Date: Fri, 21 Jan 2011 17:14:52 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: THe FoiLs of FLeTcH VaN DaM 02

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 FoiLs of FLeTcH VaN DaM 02
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"You shithead, Kristofr!"

"What'd I do?"

Walking in the door, shirtless, Jason confronts his live-in roommate, the
gym teacher at the elementary school with hand to the back of the head,
giving him a good reprimanding slap.

"What was that for?" he says, picking up his glasses which fell off the
bridge of his nose and into the newspaper he was reading.

"Jerking off in front of the little kiddies in school?"

"How would you know a thing like.... hey, what happened to your shirt?"

Jason exclaims, "Oh shit! My shirt! The kid's still wearing it!"

"What kid?" Kristofr asks.

"Never mind about me. What the fuck you think you're doing..."

Even though the house remained a little cool, things began to get steamy,
Kristofr moving from his easy chair to standing in front of Jason, taking
advantage of the bare bod, sweat and smell, everything combining to
replicate what would happen if a flock of flies were drawn to a free
hamburger at a picnic.

"Mm-m-m-m, fuck the shirt!" Kristofr replies, lifting Jason's arm and
licking up towards his elbow.

"Ewe. Can't you at least wait until I hit the shower?"

"By then," he stops and looks Jason in the eyes, "all this luscious
man-scent will be down the drain!"

Don't get Jason wrong. He wasn't fighting the feeling. After all, this
would not be the first, foremost time he's come home, his whole bod reeking
of man-sweat and on Kristofr`s part, begin to feel the aura of sexual power
a man's tongue could have over him.

"I really would like to get this grit off and....."

What Jason wanted to do, was compromised by Kristofr, by now, both hands
sliding down the sides of Jason's bod, tongue lapping away at the hairy
little trail, "Mm-m-m this smells so pungent and nice," he sniffs at
Jason's deep bellyhole, then darts his tongue in fucking away at Jason's
navel.

"Sorry. I'm not feeling it," Jason replies, backing away.

Leaving Kristofr's tongue curled up, he unfurls it, saying, "Okay. What's
up?"

"You know you could get in big trouble jerking off in school, especially
now that two kids saw you do it?" Jason tells it, walking away towards the
jon, Kristofr trailing.

"They're just kids."

"Right," Jason replies, turning on the shower, "and did you know one of
those kids has like biggest mouth in the whole town?"

"Wait," Kristofr looks at him with puzzlement, "how would you know..."

"It happens I know both boys very well," him not mentioning at the moment,
knowing Wally a little more, "and one of them could probably be trusted,
but the other," and it occurs to Jason, "Hey, why in the hell did you tell
them to go home and ask their dads about... whatever you asked them to do?"

"Masturbation."

"Big mistake Kristofr. Whether you realize it or not, one of the kid's
father is the minister at the church. Shit! You would not only get fired,
but probably railroaded out of the state, not to mention brought up on
charges of sexual harrassment, with two minors? Oh man, you would be sent
away for life!"

"I hadn't realized."

"All because you couldn't wait to get home to jerk off? C'mon Kristofr,
where's your priorities?"

"At the moment it was finding relief."

"I'm just curious," Jason begins again, unbuckling, shucking his sneakers
and stripping off below.

"What?" Kristofr replies, unbuttoning his shirt.

"First place," he hesitates, "it wasn't the kids, which started your balls
boiling?" He steps into the shower.

Hurrying along, because he doesn't want to miss any shower time, Kristofr
says as he denudes himself, "No, it wasn't the kids. I'm no child
molester!"

In 1998, things were hopping on the gay scene, more clubs opening up than
you could count, catering to gay clientele.

About three months after being kicked out of his house, Jason found himself
finding refuge at one of these clubs, asking for a job. He couldn't dance,
but had knowledge of how to mix some drinks. Working there for awhile, he
met Kristofr one night. It happened to be the night the management also
discovered him being seventeen!

Taking him home, the two became compatible, Jason working odd jobs to save
for college tuition. Already a Junior in college at the time, Kristofr had
ownership rights to the family house, so the two lived and worked out of
the home.

Five years later, Jason has been going to college, off and on, full time
and part time, working odd jobs to pay it off. At first Jason offered to
pay rent, but the pay check didn't stretch that far. Kristofr offered to
call off the rent part of the agreement, if they `shared the same
room'. It's been this way since, including sharing the same shower!

At first Jason wanted to `talk about it', but now, since the hot water play
on his skin, along with Kristofr's hands, lips and the bar of soap, he gave
in to being tantalized.

"Oh-h-h-h-h-h... now I know why it pays to get all gritty and sweaty!"

Contrary to belief, Kristofr replies, "So I can work you up into a hot,
fucking stage?"

Not saying any rebuttal, Jason knew it to be as true as it ripped off of
Kristofr's lips. Even though he felt Kristofr's hard meat teasing his ass
crevice, he knew it would be reversed, him drilling ass with his nine inch
jackhammer.

As good as it was, it was going to get better, Kristofr curious and like
whispering something sweet into Jason's ear, asks, "Now how did that kid
get your shirt? You didn't say?"

He `had' to remind Jason. With swift action he turns a complete 360 and
says, "Oh damn I hope Wally knows to hide that shirt!"

With jaw dropped down, mouth gaping open, Kristofr accuses, "You made it
with a fourth-grader?"

Repulsed by the idea, "No fuckin' way! I'm not a child-molester like you!"

Following Jason out of the shower, dripping wet, some slimy soap still
clinging to both their bods, Kristofr shouts, "I'm `not' a child molester!"

"Well at least I don't go jerking off in front of little kids!"

"I didn't do it on purpose you know? In fact those little bastards came
barging in on me?"

Both toweled at the waist, the two rendezvoused in the kitchen, Jason
saying, after opening the refrigerator door, then slamming it shut,
"There's nothing to eat."

Kristofr follows up, "Don't change the subject!" Too, even though Jason
faced the fridge, Kristofr could debate `nothing to eat', with something
hanging down, visible between Jason's legs!

Heated up, the atmosphere began to level off. Jason's chest plastered to
the refrigerator door, Kristofr moves his hairy front up, rubbing his chest
against Jason's back, his hands gently massaging arms and shoulder. Sweetly
his voice carries, "I'll tell you about my day if you tell me about yours?"
He ends it with a sweet kiss to the side of the neck.

Too mellowing out, Jason says, "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"We were both angry. I think we should take turns explaining what happened
and," hands caressing Jason's sides, "I know we can work this out."

They did. It started in the kitchen, Jason asking to lie down. Retreating
to the bedroom, Jason told about his short day, leaving out the part about
Wally, in about the same manner as coming out, saying he's gay, he left
leaving his shirt with Wally as, "I let him borrow it so he wouldn't get
his school clothes dirty. It's as simple as that." According to Jason it
was the truth, so he wasn't telling any lies, just leaving out some
unnecessary parts in order to keep his end of the bargain, Wally's
secret. "Now you?"

A bit more complicated, Kristofr rolled over on his back, his black, hairy
pecs rising above the rest of his bod. While Jason talked, he coddled,
running his hands over Jason's bod, hitting all the places which he knew
would turn his twenty-two year old bedfellow on, sweetly nibbling at his
nips, while a hand tumbled his balls over and over.

As for Kristofr, anywhere was game. Jason would pocket his shoulder in an
armpit and tease the immense amount of hair, whether on Kristofr's pecs,
stomach, or pubes. Likewise, Jason fumbled with his balls or stroked away
at Kristofr's eight inch tube, the whole time Kristofr told his rendition
of what happened at school today. He concludes with, "And that's what
happened."

Inquisitive, Jason asks, "And you don't know what made you want to all of a
sudden have this urge?" Jason meant the part about wanting to jerk off in
his office.

"Yeah, I know."

Getting up, poking an elbow in the mattress, Jason asks, "What?"

After a lull Jason asks again with agitation, "What? Don't tell me after
five years of sleeping in your bed you're going to start keeping secrets
from me, Kristofr?" It then dawned on Jason, he was keeping a secret, but
thought of it in a different light.

Smiling, Kristofr replies, "No." Thinking on it a second more, "Would you
believe I enjoyed feeling that dodgeball hit me in the balls?"

Totally objectively, Jason replies, "So? What's wrong with that?"

Explaining it like text book knowledge, Kristofr replies, "The ball hit me
in the cock and balls. My balls were like killing me. The pain was so
immense, but at the same time it was like we were having sex and I just
`had' to come. Get it?"

Jason just smiled, went back to tugging at Kristofr's chest fur.

"What I'm saying is the pain from my balls made me want to jerk off. You
get it, Jason?"

"I get it."

"You do?" Kristofr questions, surprised to say the least.

Falling forwards, his chest about where Kristofr's stomach is, Jason
replies, "Do you remember the night you met me at the Pink Triangle?"

"Yeah."

"The night before, a motorcycle gang comes in, at least that's what I
thought, until Wade tells me they are a leather gang. Of course I hadn't a
clue to what he was talking about, until he took me downstairs to observe."
Jason laughs, not because it was fun to him, watching two guys holding
another guy, a third kicking the shit out of his balls, but, "You think
getting hit in the balls with a dodgeball was bad? You should see this dude
howling like a banshee as this other dude was kicking him between the
legs!"

Kristofr interrupts, "Owch!"

"Right and guess what?"

"They had to dial 911?"

"No, the dude getting his balls bashed was oozing fluid out of his cock
like Niagra!"

"Cool! I mean... like how hard was he hitting him?"

"Hard," Jason replies, "and with steel-toed boots!"

"Awesome! I mean... man that's got to hurt!"

Again Jason smiled.

"What?"

"I feel a disturbance in the force!" With that, Jason slips his hand
between them. Feeling something wet he sits up on his knees. "Oh man
Kristofr! I just showered and you got me all slimed up!"

"No problem.... no problem," Kristofr replies, getting up and placing
Jason's bod on the bed real gentle. "I'll have you cleaned up in no time!"

As if nothing had come between the two, their relationship went on as if
any other night, only starting a bit earlier. Still, Kristofr kept his
word, cleaning his own precum from Jason's stomach, same time cleaning out
Jason's bellyhole properly.

The only variation, Jason, with new knowledge about his companion, did what
he learned from the leather motorcycle gang, handled Kristofr's balls,
testing each time if he was squeezing too hard. He was amazed too, while
Kristofr was sucking him, taking his cock deep into his throat, how much
more pleasurable it became, with a squeeze of one or both of his big balls.

%

As Jason had hoped, not only did Wally make their conversation mute between
himself and others, but evaded his mother's question of having a good day
at school, jogging up the stairway to his room. He dropped his things on
his bed, unmade since this morning and hurried off to the jon, a small
half-bath attached to his room. Still, it composed of a toilet and sink,
Wally was able to stand on a small footstool to peer at himself in the
mirror.

Jason's shirt sagged over his bod, looking at least three times bigger, but
to Wally he pictured himself as a muscle man of sorts, flexing those
`mighty' biceps. Talking to himself in the mirror he speaks like a threat,
"Someday I'm going to be a muscle man like you, Jason!"  Smiling, he picks
up the shirt, catching many folds of it in both hands and looks down upon
himself in the mirror.

"And someday I'm going to have a trail too," like he did have a choice,
"and a deep bellybutton just like you Jason!" Concluding, he stuck his
finger in his own bellyhole and was amazed, "Wow! That feels good!"

To complete the ensemble of feeling good, Wally lifts the hand holding the
bulk of Jason's tank top to his face. Breathing in heavy, he
inhales. Letting out his breath he sighs, "Mm-m-m-m Jason... you smell
good!"

Staring in the mirror, he allows the tank top to fall down over his
stomach, however his thoughts have switched from his upper bod, to
lower. Biting his lip, Wally is thinking about what Jason said about
sniffing his underwear and `Should I?'

Hearing `something', he jumps down off the bench. His mother's voice
carrying, "Walloo-o-o-on!" he figits with Jason's oversized tank top, gets
it off his bod and running out his half-sized jon, flings it under the bed,
approaching the door to his bedroom, right as the knob is turned.

"I didn't receive a report of your day at school today, Walloon, dear?"

Facing his mother, `Walloon' replies, "It was good mother." And as always,
reflecting in a manner which gave her the rundown, "We had a test,
something called a `lab', our first science project and I'm about to do my
homework. And oh, Tyler is coming over tomorrow to work on a project for
social studies. That's okay, isn't it?"

The rundown was fast and furious, all good and left his mother with no
choice but to accept in the affirmative.

However, things did not run the course as yesterday and years prior, his
mother saying with sincerity, "I have something to speak with you about
Walloon, if you would meet me in the parlor in a few minutes?"

"Sure, mother," Wally replies with skepticism. Then, after shutting the
door and getting on with changing his clothes, he questions himself, "I
wonder what this is all about?"

In the usual sense, as things went in the Fletcher-Van Dam household, when
called for a family meeting in the parlor, an old-fashioned word for living
room, of which Wally associated with a funeral parlor, because of the drab,
Victorian furnishings, the conversation had to be of a serious nature.

Dressed appropriately for their meeting, Wally asks about his absent
parent, "Where's father?"

"This actually concerns your father and... it is not necessary for him to
be here."

He got a talking to, one which he had questions, mostly `how come?', his
mother telling of his father staying in the city and he would not be coming
home. Back in his room, Wally pondered away, thinking of what it all
meant. He knew about kids his class, parents being separated, a byproduct,
the future of the kids in the balance of the marriage. Thinking on it,
Wally hung on his stomach, across his bed. Then something went `click' and
he reached over the edge and underneath, swiping Jason's sweaty tank top up
in the grasp of a hand. Immediately, like it was a stuffed animal, a
personal friend, he clutched the tank to his face and cried. Like Jason was
there this afternoon to vent, the scented shirt replicated Jason's being
and he used it as a tool to work out his frustration, "Dad is not coming
home anymore. What are we gonna do Jason?".

%

Tyler didn't know what to expect, however one thing he could not possibly
do is keep a secret. Not just this secret, but any secret. The parsonage
right next to the church building, he knew his father would be hard at work
preparing for next Sunday's sermon. Between school and three minutes ago he
had pondered on the way of how to approach his father, without getting
Mr. Astopolis into trouble. The quickest way to address the issue would be
to leave Mr. A out of it, so after settling into the chair in front of his
father's big mahogany desk, he says to his father, "I saw something in
school today and I need your help with it."

For now there was no quotes from the Bible, his father responding, "Oh? And
how would that go?"

As planned, he left Mr. Astopolis out, saying, "Wally and me found some
white, gooey stuff on the floor today and was wondering what it was."

His eyebrows depressed, Pastor Cook quizzes his son, "White, gooey stuff?
Glue perhaps?"

"No, glue is sticky. When Wally pushed it around with his foot, it was
slipperyish."

"Hmm," Pastor Cook furthered his investigation, asking, "and where in the
classroom did you find this?"

His plan was to volunteer the information, lying, saying it was found in
the boy's jon, but off guard he panicked, replying, "The gym."

"The gym? Where?"

You don't know Tyler's father. Demanding information was like you were
being water-boarded, clamming up under interrogation, loosing all sense of
control, so much you panic and say anything, just to clear the air.

"Mr. Apostolis'ses office." There. Tyler had just blurted out what he
planned, trying to avoid pointing the finger at his gym teacher.

"I see," his father replies, then sits back in his chair and his usual,
puts his left hand on his stomach, winding it around the side of his bod,
then as if looking to Heaven, taps a finger on his lips.

For Tyler, this is the interim period in which his father is dreaming up
some Bible verse, followed by a lecture, which could be something from one
of his past sermons. However, he's busted out of his gourd when his father
excuses him from his office.

"What?" He exclaims, "No sermon?"

"Not unless you would like one?"

Scurrying out of there, leaving the church building and running the alley
way back to the parsonage, he's so amazed, yelling `Hooray!' for not being
detained with a boring lesson of words. Back in his room, as he pulls out
his social studies book, he puts it down, suddenly puzzled of why his
father didn't lecture him.  Shrugging his shoulder he continues his
studying.

%

Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee

`THe FoiLs of FLeTcH VaN DaM' 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.....