Date: Sun, 19 Mar 2006 12:43:41 -0800 (PST) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: The Tidelight Zone 05 The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?' "The Tidelight Zone" 05 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "You know you're a rightly fun guy to be with, Steve." "Thanks, Tom." "Hey, you care to dance?" In his few years on the island, Steve has never once set foot on a dance floor with any guy or other variations of the species. "Um.. ah, I'm not sure." "Honest answer, however if you notice Steve, on the dance floor there's only guys dancing with guys?" Steve figures how stupid can he be, by looking around the gay club. Sure enough, guys abound, waving their arms or bopping to the rhythm. "So, what do you say?" "Um.. okay. But one thing, Tom." "What's that Steve?" "I've been meaning to ask you this since we came in." "Don't keep me in suspense, Steve." "Aren't you a bit worried coming into a gay club with your police uniform on?" Tom belts out with laughter. "Sorry `bout that Steve. Here, let's get up and boogie!" On the way to the dancefloor, the twenty-four year old police officer points out the two sweaty men, shirts stripped, dancing close to one another. "See the guy in the jeans?" "Which one?" Pointing to his own ear, Tom says, "The one with the earring." "Yeah, I see him?" "His locker is on the other side of mine." "He's a cop?" Turning, Tom takes Steve's chin in his hand, as if pointing a compass needle. "The blonde stud, dancing with the guy with the navy tank top.... Mike Phillips, two lockers down from me." Steve began feeling his neck loosen up, as Tom pointed out four more police officers. "Damn, the place is crawling with them!" "Yeah. The management likes it when the force is `out' in numbers!" "I'll bet." With that out of the way, Tom began to concentrate on one man. Even though the music streamed through the club, fast as a locomotive, it didn't keep Tom from loosening up Steve's shirt, pulling it from his pants, unbuttoning the gauze fabrice and letting it hang from his shoulders. "Your turn!" Tom yelled to Steve. Being on the shy side, Steve wouldn't have offered to do it on his own, especially it being a police officer's uniform, but with the offer he made light work of unbuttoning Tom's police officer's decorated shirt. With three beers in him, the stepped up pace of the club music, plus the stirring in his loins at the sight of Tom Morito's hot, hairy, beefy body, Steve had no problem in stripping it. He had the look on his face of `what do I do with it'. Unlike his gauze shirt, the navy blue policeman's shirt, laden with patches and name plate weighed ten times more. Grinning, Tom rolled it up into a ball, called out, "Gimme your's!" Incorporating Steve's white, gauze shirt in his own bundle, Tom turned towards the bar, hollaring, "Hey Slim!" A beefy, muscled bartender turned in Tom's direction. With quick reflexes, he caught the tossed bundle, acknowledging the receipt. "How convenient," Steve replied. "He'll be looking for a big tip!" Tom commented. Steve looked down. "Oh, not `that' kind," Tom told him. "The real, paper kind!" Laughing, Steve got even more sweaty when Tom's hairy body sweat mingled with his own. % Five minutes into working over Jay's ass, John said he felt damn funny that Anthony sat there watching. So, a half hour ago, Anthony mounted Jay's chest and began to slowly feed his 8.5c down Jay's throat. Holding onto the metal frame, at the top of the bed, Jay went for the ride of his life. "Here, switch!" "Switch?" Anthony questioned John's idea. "Yeah. I feel like choking Jay for the last time!" Anthony wasn't so sure about that, knowing he himself was an 8.5c and John measurably longer. "Are you sure, John?" "Hey, who do you think taught Jay to deep throat cock?" Anthony got up to change places, even though he wasn't sure that Jay could take that monster down. But it felt so nice replacing his cock into Jay's warm chute that he forgot about John deep throating Jay. Not that he was listening for it, but he didn't pick up on Jay getting strangled of anything, either! After an hour so, pumping at both openings, John and Anthony yelled out. John's semen wound up in Jay's belly, but Anthony pulled out to spray the biggest orgasm he's ever had, through the valley of Jay's legs. "Hot, literally speaking, orgasm!" John told Anthony, wiping it off of his back. "Oh, sorry about that, John. I didn't mean to..." "No problem, Anthony. Our little cumslut here wouldn't mind cleaning me off!" Giggling, Anthony thought John hilarious, but also caught onto the possessive slang. He didn't mind sharing Jay at all, not feeling an ounce of jealousy or anything. "Hey, anytime John." "Don't wish for something you might regret, man." "I'm not. I think it was kind of hot, John." Jay lay there, kind of hoarse. "Hmm... how about catching a shower with me, Anthony?" "Shower?" "I don't know about you, but I feel all sweaty and gritty." "Same here, but what about your businessman?" "He's a quick trick. He can wait." Entering the jon, Anthony got more of a visual perspective of John's naked bod. "Wow!" "What?" John said, standing before the toliet, tinkling. "You're... um... gorgeous!" John laughed his ass off. "You think so, do you?" "That's a def. Do you workout?" Anthony didn't rightly know much of a conversation to carry on, but his immediate question was drawn out enough that he could take on the view of John's features, without making it seem like he watched the twenty-four year old, six foot tall jock, pissing. Resembling a cross, John's light brown body hair extended from one side of his pec to the other. From mid-chest, it it ran up to his neckline, in a single path. Shooting downwards, it became more defined when hitting the border of his chest and stomach. Then, swirling around his deep navel, it formed a defined path to his pubes. Of course it looked darker, being glued to his body by sweat, plus his hand that had smeared some of Anthony's cum into it like hair gel. "I'll start the shower. You gotta piss?" "Um, yeah." Like he watched John piss, when his heated liquid came out, it first had to blow the plug of semen. Then it squirted out with no problem, adding to John's smelly. Smiling a toothy grin, John appeared, his hand on the handle. He flushed. "Kind of funky, huh?" "Good thing you arrived. I was ready to keel over!" Anthony joked back. "C'mon. I think I need a nice `long' shower." Something about John, drew Anthony into the shower, expecting more than getting clean. Entering the pulsing jet streams, John got in first, leading Anthony. "Oooooh, does this feel awesome!" Anthony bellowed out. "Yeah, does," John agreed. Anthony felt something amiss, but let it go. He figured it just weird being in the shower with a guy he met only hours ago. "C'mon, take the soap and do my back." "Yeah, okay," Anthony agreed, taking the bar of soap from John, whom had picked it up from the soapdish. "By the way, I was wondering something, John." "Shoot!" He replied, waiting for the question. Being three inches shorter, Anthony stood behind John, waxing his back with the soapy lather. He got down to John's waist and began swirling it around the sides of his bod, cutting off at the small of his back. In the middle of telling his tale of how he and Jay met, about eight years ago, John tells Anthony, "Keep going." "Um, beg your pardon?" Reaching behind himself, John moves Anthony's hand right over his ass crevice. "Um, you want me to..." "If you don't mind?" "Um, okay." Anthony didn't mind it at all, to slip his soapy hand into John's lightly haired ass crack. "Oooooooh, that feels so good!" Not believing what he was hearing, the proof came about, as his finger made contact with John's asshole. Instead moving forwards, John encouraged Anthony, pressing backwards. "Um, John, I thought..." "Two fingers, please." "But, you're a top?" "Yeah, but what man doesn't like having his ass played with!" "Are you serious, John? You want me to stuff two of my fingers inside you?" "Sure. Why? Haven't you ever done that to a guy before?" A moment of silence fell upon the shower. "You're being serious, Anthony?" "Well, I've felt up my own asshole. Does that count?" "Let me ask you, Anthony. Is it more pleasurable to jerk yourself off or have a hot bottom's lips wrapped around it?" "Oh," Anythony got the analogy. Turning back around, his ass towards Anthony, John once again places the hand to his ass. "What do I do?" "Same as if you're doing to your own ass, only more so." "More so, huh?" Anthony said, as he probed the small cake of soap inside the twenty-four year old's crevice. "Oooooh yeah... yeah... move it against my sphincter... yeah, force it in, Anthony... that's it..." "Um, isn't this going to like, stretch it, John?" "A little. Feels real cool, though. Keep pushing it." As Anthony did what John requested, he noticed the thin cake of soap bend. "Uh-oh!" "What?" John questioned. "Nothing, John, other than I lost the soap!" "No problem." "No problem, John? The bar of soap is in your ass!" "It's small. It'll come out. But thanks. It felt real hot while it lasted. Besides, then maybe I wouldn't need as much lube." With a strange look on his face, Anthony asks, "Lube? For what, John?" Turning, John had a smile on his face. A hand behind him turned off the water. Then both came to rest on Anthony's shoulders. "I know Jay would tell you this himself, only he's kind of got a `sore' throat." "Tell me what?" "Our childhood bet." "Wait. You don't have AIDS do you or anything?" "No, nothing like that. Trust me." For whatever feeling pervaded, Anthony did trust John. "I do, John." Smiling, Anthony wasn't ready for the next course of action. Moving his head forward, turning it slightly, John cupped his lips over Anthony's. The nineteen year old didn't fight the feeling. In fact, when John pressed his wet chest against Anthony's, he let it happen. "Wow! You're a great kisser, too." "Not so bad yourself, hot shot!" John grinned, as he complimented. It then occured to Anthony, "Hey, isn't there like a few years difference in your ages?" Meaning John and Jay. "You know, there's a lot of explaining to do. Why don't you and I get dressed and get some dinner?" "What about Jay?" "Sore throat. Remember?" "Oh yeah." "Besides the guy would be walking kinda funny!" It was Anthony's turn to laugh and he did it with heartiness. He was finding John to be fun with. Exiting the jon, Jay entered, brushing chests with John. "Dumb, Jay. Real dumb. I just got out of the shower and your sweaty, cummy bod slithered all over my fresh skin." Before Jay could respond, Anthony checks out, "Um, John and I are going to dinner. You want to join us?" "Oh no," Jay replies, with a yawn. "You two got me all tired out. Go on. Have some fun." Anthony more thought that Jay would object. He wondered about the response, adding `have some fun'. If in Jay's place, he would be questioning John and Jay going out without him. Right now, one of his opinions of John included being a hot fox. "Here, wear this." "Where did this come from?" Holding up a pair of jeans, torn here and there, he wonders. "I think you're Jay's size. They'll fit." "Might be a bit tight, John." "Show off your shapely figure?" "Besides, I thought you wanted to go to dinner." "Sure, at the gay club. Here, throw this tank on." "Um, okay." However, even though John put his jeans back on, he fed his arms into one of Jay's white tees over. Walking out the door, John commented, "Just for show. Soon as we hit the club, it'll be coming off. Oh, almost forgot..." Anthony watched John comb through Jay's pants pocket, producing a set of keys. "Hey Jay, borrowing the jeep," He yelled to the jon, loud enough to wake up Elton and Marc, but didn't. "Yeah, okay," came the response, with the toliet flushing. One last time, before they departed, Anthony asks Jay, "Sure you don't want to come, Jay?" "Oh no. I don't know what it is, but my throat feels real scratchy. You two go. Live it up!" "Okay. If you say so," Anthony replied. Feeling good about going out with John, he did have reservations about leaving Jay there. Only a couple of hours ago, it seemed like Jay was pledging his love to him, making him feel convinced they had been a couple. With John in the picture now, that vision seemed foggy. "You coming, Anthony?" "Yeah. Sure." Watching Jay fall face first into the pillow, he turned to be escorted out of the room. "Poor guy," Anthony said to John. "Yeah right. Wouldn't be the first time he wound up with a sore throat. "John can I talk to you about something?" "Sure." "Can you keep it confidential?" "From whom?" "Jay. I know you're buddies and go a way back. You seem to know a lot about him." "There isn't much we don't know about each other," John confides in Anthony. "I kind of got the feeling tonight that Jay and me... well..." "Want to be a couple. I figured that's what Jay was getting at. I think it's nice." "But John, it also seems like. Well that there's this attachment between you and Jay. Meaning, close?" Starting up the engine, John smiled, replying, "Only in friendship. Sure, he's a hot fuck, but as far as the `newlywed game', nada!" "Do you have a man in your life right now that fits that cliche?" "Might be." Anthony thought that John was getting too close to him, or on the other hand, taking Jay away from him. With the aspect of a man in his life already, he lightened up on the subject. "What's he like?" "Average guy. Young, good looking, innocent, nice bod." "Sounds dreamy." "Oh, he is." "Will I meet him tonight? Is that where you're taking me? To meet him?" "I guess you might say that." "Cool!" "Does he work there?" "Where?" "At the gay club you're taking me to!" "Oh! Yeah... I mean no. No, he doesn't work there." Still, Anthony put together his own facsimile of John's boyfriend. % At the Triple Army Medical Center, Mehmet waited outside the examination room, with Keffen Naegelen. "Why did you bring him to an army hospital, Keffen?" "Loyalty, I suppose." "You were in the US Army?" "Yes. Almost wound up medical, but other things transpired." Mehmet, shy about people, didn't pry, letting the explanation go. "Tell me about you, Mehmet," Keffen `did' pry. "Not much to tell about me." "I take it you're gay." "Yes, sir." "How does your parents take that fact?" Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, "My mother doesn't mind much. My father doesn't like the idea. I try not to bring up the subject." "So, they both know you are." "Yes, but my father doesn't want to believe it, I think. In my country we have traditions." "Like anywhere else, but I suppose... is it that you're from Egypt?" "Yes, sir." "Then I can see where being gay would give your father thoughts. Would you ming sharing them with me?" Taking a deep breath, then swallowing, finally clearing his throat, Mehmet got up the nerve to say, "He didn't like it very much." "Um, you father?" The nineteen year old nodded `yes'. Bending over in his seat, placing his elbows on his knees, Mehmet looked at the floor tiles, revealing, "I couldn't get much in, other than telling him I was gay. He got so violent." Keffen leaned forward, putting his arm on Mehmet's dark, hairy forearm. "I'm sorry to hear that. What happened, if you don't mind sharing?" Keffen Naegelen didn't let on that his original area of medical endeavor had been psychology. In reality, their conversation resembled a therapy session. "First he told me that I couldn't be gay. I told him I was and that nothing could change that. I wanted to speak my mind. Don't you think that it was alright to do that, Keffen?" "Of course. If you feel strongly about something, you should talk about it." "But my father didn't want to hear anything of it." "Question, Mehmet?" "Yes?" "How old had you been when you told your father?" "Sixteen." "What made you come out to him?" "I don't know. I had met this boy in school. We talked that afternoon. He told me that he was going to tell his parents that night. I wanted to be brave like him... only." Again Mehmet's head sank down between his shoulders. "What is it, Mehmet?" Keffen pursued, putting his arm around Mehmet's shoulder, the opposite of his sitting position. "He didn't tell his parents. I wound up telling mine, but he told me he chickened out." "How did you feel?" "Livid. I was, as Marc put it, `angry as all hell'!" "Marc you say?" "Yes. We're all related, Marc, Elton and I." "Cousins?" "Yes and we're all gay. Anyway, that's when I began going over to Marc's house a lot. His dad had passed away and he welcomed the company." "You're telling me a lot here, but let's get back to your father. I take it he still doesn't recognize your gay sexuality?" "Never did. He made it clear, after the first beating that..." "Wait a minute. He beat you?" "Dammit! I wasn't going to ever tell anyone!" Mehmet's throat then filled up, his sinuses feeling congested. "That's alright," Keffen forced the nineteen year old Egyptian teen into his arms. "Let it all out, Mehmet." "I was scared." "Of course you were." "He pulled so hard on my shirt that he tore it. Then he unbuckled his belt and took it off. Pushing me over the end of the sofa, he whipped me and whipped me, telling me, `no son of mine is going to be a faggot!'" "That's alright. Let it out Mehmet." "Hey, what's happening here." Suddenly, in the face of the guy he only met an hour and a half ago, Mehmet quickly wiped his tears away, dousing his aggravated attitude. "Are you okay, Mehmet?" Sitting down on the other side of Mehmet, Sean acted all concerned. "Are you okay?" Mehmet hit Sean with. "Doc says I checkout okay. Man, do you see all these hot looking jarheads?" It made Keffen laugh, carrying Mehmet along on the comical manner in which he giggled. "So, what's with you?" Sean didn't let whatever was troubling Mehmet, subside into a meanlingless matter. "Nothing." However, Keffen chanced cluing Sean into Mehmet's personal matter. "Mehmet was telling me about his first coming out moment with his parents." "Damn, I hope it was happier than mine!" "Um, I don't know," Mehmet replied. Before he had to tell Sean, he asked, "What happened to you?" Sean was nonstop into the explanation, "Oh shit! When I told my dad, he went ballistic! Started slapping me around. Broke the lamp and forget it when my mom came in. My dad told her I just told him I was a faggot." "Faggot?" Keffen asked. "I didn't tell him I was a faggot, I said I was gay. Still, he didn't care what it was called. But I figured at least my mom would understand. But she was into one her drinking fits and joined forces with my dad. The first thing she did was slap me across the face, telling me she was sorry she had my worthless little ass." "I'm sorry, Sean," Mehmet replied, in earnest. "Yeah. Well thanks. It was a long time ago." "How old?" Keffen inquired. "I was seventeen." "And you're how old now?" "Nineteen. My birthday was three days ago." "Wonderful!" Keffen replied. "Happy Birthday, Sean," with a hand to his back. "Thanks Keffen." "Happy birthday," Mehmet also added. "Thanks. It's no big deal though." "Surely your mother offered her congratulations, Sean?" "Nah. She's a go-go dancer. After work, she brought home some trick at two in the morning. I couldn't sleep from hearing the bed banging on the wall for two hours!" Keffen could see that Sean didn't have any real family life. As for Mehmet, he had this constant loaded grenade over his head. "What would you boys say going out for a drink?" "I don't drink," Mehmet told them, "except spring water." "You've never had a beer?" Sean asked him. "Oh yes. Elton and Marc buy me one at the club." "And?" "Hold it a sec," Sean put his hand on Mehmet's thigh. Sean's attention had been drawn to the rear of two passing jarheads. Keffen called, "Hey, Phil... Joaquin!" "What are you doing?" Sean asked Keffen. Before Keffen could give the explanation, he was introducing the two. "I want you to meet my friends, Sean and Mehmet." The two youthful jarheads didn't look much older than Sean and Mehmet. "Nice to meet you," Phil said, taking Mehmet's hand in his. "Are you boys going off duty?" "Matter of fact, we are, Keff," replied Phil, scanning the two. Coincidentally, it's the bod that Sean was admiring. "My friends here and I are on our way to the club, for a birthday celebration. Would you care to join us?" "Who's birthday?" "Sean's," Keffen relayed to the two. Sean wasn't any dumb bunny. He's seen it a hundred times when a man has given his mother the once over, three times! He came right out and asked, "You gay, Phil?" Acting like it was preposterous... how could Sean tell, Phil gave in, saying, "Yeah and I hope `you are'!" "Only one way to answer that." Boldly, Sean stepped forward, cupping Phil's head in his hand, bring their lips together. "Damn, you move fast!" Phil replied. "Don't like fast men?" Sean joked with Phil. "I `love' fast men!" Phil replied, his hand cupping Sean's left ass cheek. On the other hand, the other jarhead took Mehmet's hand, saying, "I guess I know who my date is. Let me introduce myself... Joaquin Alejandro Martinez, at your service." Phil replies to that, "Joaquin here is a little old-fashioned!" "Shut up, Phil," Joaquin elbows him in the gut. "Can't you see I'm trying to make an impression?" Cutting up, Phil retorts, "Yeah. Any lower and that would have been `some impression'!" Keffen laughed along with the quartet, Mehmet smiling, but not exploding with as much laughter as the other four. "Hey, do we get to change?" Phil inquires. "Yeah, we won't be caught dead at the club in our uniforms!" Sean asks, "Need some help with those buttons, Phil?" "Hmm!" He replies, wiggling his eyebrows. Phil and Sean pair up, already good buds, walking, arms over shoulders, down the hospital wing. "You can come along too, if you want Mehmet?" Mehmet looks to Keffen, as if asking permission from his father, which would be totally ludicrous anyway. Keffen boldly replies, "I think you should! I'll wait here." "C'mon," Joaquin replied. Not as gruff, he added, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I'm... I'm not like Phil. Really I'm not." "Okay," Mehmet replied. Unlike Phil, Joaquin took hold of Mehmet's hand. "It okay that we walk holding hands, Whakin?" "Joaquin.... like in keen?" "I get it. Where are we going?" "Lockerroom. Oh but you can wait outside if it bothers you." When they arrived, neither Phil, nor Sean had been outside. Entering, Joaquin and Sean heard soft sounds coming from the shower area. "Son of a gun!" Joaquin shouted. Lying on the bench, tumbling onto the floor, was Phil's uniform, white tee shirt and briefs. Strewn, intermixed, Sean's clothing lay nearby. "Those are Sean's clothes!" Mehmet replied. Already unbuttoning his shirt, Joaquin told him, "I'll only be a second, Mehmet. I don't need to really shower." It suddenly hit Mehmet that for the last few years he's been living his life in the shadow of his father. All the fun the guys, Elton, Marc and Anthony had, he's been reserved on participation. He even figured his lack of confidence had robbed him of his opportunity to seize a relationship with Steve. As he watched Joaquin undress, pull the tee shirt out of his pants, strip it, divulge the dark brown hairy pits, lifting the tee shirt up. Around each brown, perky nip, ran an inch of chest hair. A small patch, midchest, fanned out, then came to a trickle, as it descended Joaquin's taut stomach, dipping into his deep navel. "I think you should shower." "Huh?" Joaquin questioned, unbuckling his belt. "I think you should shower and I can shower with you." "Shower with me? Are you sure about that?" Mehmet then thought twice about it. His intentions hadn't been at all like Sean's. He wasn't trying to make a fast play. "I don't have to." All along, Joaquin had detected the shy repose of the Egyptian teen. He also knew that along life's highway it was each of our jobs to help bring guys out, develop their true self. "You know, Mehmet, if probably wouldn't hurt?" Not fully understanding what Joaquin meant, Mehmet asks, "Do I smell?" Joaquin couldn't help laughing out loud, which fortunately brought a slight grin from Mehmet. With only his belt unbuckled, he approached the nineteen year old. They stared at each other before Joaquin made the first advance, doing what Sean did in the hallway. Mehmet let the latino place his hand behind his head and touch lips, with his own. Standing there, hands at his sides, Mehmet let it happen, allowing Joaquin's hand to slide down the back of his shirt, then use two hands to pull the dress shirt out of his pants. He stood there, still embracing their lips, allowing Joaquin to feel his hairy body, allowing the latino to move his hands flat against his sides, then feel up his stomach and chest. "I'll undo my shirt, okay?" "No babe, allow me," Joaquin announced, withdrawing his hands from their wanderings. "I liked your kiss." "Me too," Joaquin said. However, when he had Mehmet's shirt fully opened, draped behind his back, Joaquin had the best comment. "Beautiful!" "What is beautiful?" Mehmet questioned, looking down his front. "All this beautiful hair!" All Mehmet could do was sigh in pleasure, as Joaquin leaned down, forward, his tongue making connection with the black hair follicles on the nineteen year old's chest. Sticking his tongue out, he painted a path around Mehmet's left nip. It seemed that Joaquin did more moaning than Mehmet. Being not totally confident about meeting a man, Mehmet asked the first question that came to mind. "How old are you?" "Twenty. Is that okay? Why? How old are you?" Mehmet felt overpowered, but also answered, "Twenty is okay. I'm nineteen." "We're almost the same age. I'll be twenty-one next month." "I turned nineteen two months ago." "Oh," Joaquin then felt a let down. "But you not too old for me!" Mehmet assured him, with a wry smile. "That's good." "Why?" "Um..." Trying to find his own path of words, Joaquin said something stupid, like, "because... because I'm really getting to like swirling my tongue around your hot nips?" Like an idiot, Joaquin stood there, looking at Mehmet's face, waiting for a reaction. Not sure what to say, nor think, Mehmet came back at Joaquin with, "Can I taste your nips?" Joaquin laughed, which made Mehmet join in on the laughter. % 5 Continued.... Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.