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.
Bar Tab Buy-out! 03 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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One last matter of formality loomed on Marco Terenzi's brain. He had unlocked the front door to his modest home, but hesitated.
"You changed your mind," Scott guesses.
"On the contrary, I want to make sure you haven't changed yours?" And in the little alcove, overhung with ivy vines, it's on Marco's mind, "I mean, you could have taken the option of detouring, when I took the on ramp to the interstate and double back to your place?" Marco supposed.
"Why? So you could show up at my door and embarrass me in front of my neighbors?" Scott returns, a hint of mistrust.
"Neighbors Scott? You live at least a mile from the next nearest doorstep. But no," Marco replies, his hand turning the doorknob, "something deep down inside made you driven, so as to make you follow me." And as they step inside the door, Marco sealing them inside, "Tell me, Scott, what part of your bod was telling you you were doing the right thing in following me?"
Instead of answering about himself, Scott insinuates, "Did you drive all the way home with a hard-on? I bet your still hard!"
Taking off his jacket and hanging it on a hook by the door, Marco turns to Scott, saying, "Go ahead. Find out for yourself."
The two look down upon Marco's lower front.
Taking the bait, Scott's hand moves towards Marco's crotch. All the while they stare at each other, Marco's lips turning up in to a smile, Scott all serious, still wary of Marco's karate abilities and any other underhanded move he might commit.
Moving his hands from snug on his torso, to behind his back, like bound with cuffs, Marco says, "Go ahead."
Then, Scott smiles as his hand gives cause for Marco's head to drop back and sigh out loudly, "Ahhhh... yeah... feels real nice."
That was about to change, Scott's face filling with an evil grin. Coming into Marco's home, he wanted to leave some kind of 'mark' on him, telling him he wasn't about to revert to his position as being used as a punching bag. Instead, he uses Marco's stomach as a punching bag, after mustering up his gut-punching position.
"Whugh-h-h-h-h-h!" Marco cries out, immediately changing from a relaxed, sexually-enhanced position to a pile of rubble on the floor. "Oh man... now that's what I call fuckin'-dirty!"
With a little knowlege Marco has divested about himself, Scott sums up in a nonchalant manner, "Oh really? I would rather think you enjoyed it!" And stepping back, out of harm's way if Marco decided on retribute, like driving his fist upwards between his legs, Scott asks, "Did you enjoy it? Care for another?"
"Might be fun to have a tradeoff," Marco replies as one hand holds his gut, rubbing it, "but if that idea doesn't grab you, I'd like to see what I can take from you?"
Too, with knowledge about this bar tab Marco has run up, Scott inquires, "And to what end would all this fit into the buyout of your bar tab?"
Stretching out a hand, like asking Scott's assistance in helping him up off the floor, Marco replies, "Interested in me taking care of that back?"
Forgetting all about it, Scott flexes his shoulders. He was amazed that the eight or so swipes of Marco's belt over his blades didn't phase him more. "I could use 'something'," Scott replies.
"So?" Marco says, his hand still out.
Thinking of Marco offering his hand, was he also offering a truce? Or were they symbolizing the agreement of a deal? One thing Scott could not belittle, was the fact that since he had touched Marco's crotch, something in his pants was 'not' belittled! He reached out for the hand, helping Marco to his feet.
"C'mon. I've got a nice surprise out back."
Scott replies, with susipicion, "What? Your torture chamber?" Following Marco, he says, "I don't know if I'm in the mood for one of your surprises!" Yet, Scott did have to do some readjustments, proving he could be in the market for something, no matter how bizarre it seemed. Up until now Marco has managed to turn his world upside down. This morning when he walked into work, he thought it would be an ordinary day. How did he know a bomb was about to drop on his life! So, for now he was taking it a step at a time, seeing what lie in the aftermath.
"Like it?"
"Wait a minute," Scott stood there as he looked over the backyard, very neatly lanscaped around the full size swimming pool. From there, lifting his eyes, he looked upon a tennis court and to the right a cabana of sorts.
"It'll take a minute before the hot tub is heated," Marco said, a remote control setting off a hum as the waters churned up.
"Now I can see why you're in debt!"
"Oh, don't get me wrong Scott. It's not that all this isn't paid for, free and clear. The bar tab, I could pay it off, but it's the principal that counts here."
'Prinicipal?' Scott questioned without saying. Now things began to fog up again. But he hadn't considered turning and running, not being a spectator to Marco walking towards the cabana, leaving a trail of clothing as he stepped there. "Hey! Wait up!" But Marco didn't wait as Scott stay on his trail, picking up a sock, then the other, his shirt and by the time he caught up with him, held his pants out, as well as briefs and approaching him inside the contemporary setting, "Um, drop something?"
There Marco stood, without a stitch of clothing, his head bowed under a running shower.
Scott looks around, seeing no enclosure for privacy, but as the water cascaded down Marco's Italian-tanned bod, complete, even around the pubic region, a world devoid of privacy not phasing him.
"Oh, just throw those over a chair," Marco says, turning to Scott, a handful of gel lathering up his pubes. And then rinsing his head under the soft jet of water, "As soon as you get out of your clothes, would you mind doing my back?"
Seeming like an on and off battle, Scott does strip rather rapidly, but unlike Marco, neatly folds his apparel. Wanting to send a message, perhaps one of who is in charge, when he approaches the shower, he nudges Marco out of the way, pumps some gel out of the dispenser, a handful of the green goo placed over his shoulder, adhering to his back as he says, "Want to do me?"
"In ways more than one!" Marco replies.
"Oh really?" Scott replies. "I didn't think you were the 'type'!"
Sure, in the beginning, when they first met up in the office, Scott made up his mind Marco to be the aggressive, dominant type, but as they 'played around', he had mixed emotions regarding such. Now he was toying around, imposing the question to Marco in a roundabout way.
Having a few notions of his own, Marco replies, "On the contrary Scott. I think we're more alike than you think!"
Right away, the word 'versatility' pops up in Scott's mind. Not phasing him as completely in err, still with curiousity, he states, "Oh? And what makes you draw that conclusion?"
Having all the answers, Marco replies, "How about we get dried off, start with a '69' and then see where it leads?"
Reminding Marco, Scott says, "After you take care of soothing the stripes you put on my back?"
By now, most of the green goo had dissipated. Reaching in between Scott's arm and ribs, Marco draws a handful of the green stuff out of the dispenser. On the rebound the other hand swipes over his pubes. He makes comment, "Looks like we're both hard for each other!" His hard cock against Scott's ass proves his point.
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Meanwhile, several miles from Marco's home, city-side of the town, in the basement of Pine's Bar & Grill, another meeting of minds takes place.
Taking a towel, wiping off his brow, taking the sweat from around his head, then toweling off his hairy forearms, Vince blots his chest and stomach. Lifting the head of the man he just finished doing some heavy gut-work with, he ask, "Had enough?"
From his willing, paid victim, he hears a faint moan.
Turning to two men, decked out in suits and ties, Vince Rodgers tells them, "Okay boys. I'm done here. You can cut him down."
One of them, Jake, whines, "Oh but boss... you promised?"
Upstairs earlier, Vince, Jake, his limo driver and bodyguard, Vladimir, and the owner of the bar & grill, Eric Pine, had congregated for a friendly game of poker. Even though it were Vince getting first dibs over 'ownership' for the evening, Jake did manage to snag quite a few games to his fame, which gave him the right to enjoy the 'leftovers'. As for Eric Pine's gain, whatever he took in from the poker game, was on top of the fee he charged Vince to use his basement for his 'evening of entertainment'.
As for Vladimir, he went along 'for the ride', helping Jake to dismantle the hanging bod, propped up with leather cuffs, hanging there from the basement beams, trussed up eagle-spread for their boss' pleasuring.
However, it wasn't only Vince, Jake and Vladimir who benefitted from their victim's ordeal. The victim himself, a willing pawn in the evening's entertainment, had ventured to gain a tidy sum, enough to make it worth his while to put up with a few hours of gut-punching, ball bashing, licks of a leather strap and some other erotic play. Though Jake's and Vladimir's activities were not on his agenda, if Ramon Vasquez put on a good 'show', he could earn a substantial tip!
Upstairs, Vince had replaced his shirt, was tidying it up as Eric asks his lone guest, "What'll you have?"
"Beer," Vince replies, taking a seat at the bar, "and.." he thought all of two seconds, "since I worked off quite a few calories, give me one of your famous deluxe cheeseburgers."
Seeing the pleasing smile on Vince's face, Eric says, "Looks like you had a good evening, huh?"
"Yeah. He was great. Really could take a punch to the gut. Where'd you say you picked him up?" Vince inquires.
Setting an ice cold mug of beer on the counter, the twenty-eight year old bartender and owner of the place says, "Down at the gym. I had walked in there last week and found he had just been hired." And furthering his story, "Took a look at him and decided right then and there he would be a good addition to my special clientele."
"And I suppose you used your usual technique of finding out if he had an interest?" Vince meant in the kind of after work fun he was used to, which put a smile on his face and hard shaft in his pants.
Eric went on to tell the story, "Yeah, the usual. Worked my way slowly into being friends, found out he was gay, then after making him boast about himself... you get the picture."
It was a racket, set up over a period of time, Eric doing his part in finding young guys between the ages of eighteen and thirty-something, all for the pleasure of entertaining guests in his basement, in a tryst of willing victims taking on the position of being bound, their bods utilized for the pleasure of those in the business of the abusing. Of course, if either party wasn't feeling good about it, it would not prove to be something beyond profitable.
As for Ramon Vasquez, the new, twenty-eight year old personal trainer from the gym Eric worked out at, immensely enjoyed the rigorous punishment of having his 'punch-proof' abs tested, his balls abused, as well as his back and chest treated to a fine whipping. Sometimes a willing victim did not possess all three endurances, but this is what made Ramon special, therefore driving up the price. Of course, beyond Vince shelling five hundred bucks for two hours, if Ramon's tight ass and excellent cocksucking skills proved worthy, he could stand picking up another two to three hundred bucks or more. Off the top, Eric was taking ten percent, but still Ramon would be making a hefty sum, one in which would more than pay off taking the next few days off at the gym to recuperate.
"What was that?" Eric says, after hearing a loud sigh.
"Probably Jake pumping out his first load," Vince replies with a giggle.
Walking around the side of the bar, Eric, with concern, asks, "You closed the cellar door, didn't you?"
"I thought I did," Vince replies, all too knowing he didn't because he still wanted to hear 'the action' going on.
Returning, Eric busts his chops, "Well you didn't, Vince. You know I'm careful and you have to be too, or our little evenings of get togethers are going to have to come to an end?"
Disregarding it, Vince asks, "By the way, how's that coming along with the guy whom I paid up his bar tab?"
"Marco," Eric reminds him.
"Right. Marco." And pressing Eric, "I gave him three weeks. He come up with two guys for me?"
This interested Eric very much, in having Marco Terenzi come up with at least 'one' willing victim for his evening in the basement at Pine's Bar & Grill.
"I spoke with Marco yesterday. He's working on it," Eric replied with a smile.
But his smile weakened when Vince replies, "Well you know what happens if he can't find anyone?"
Eric knew all too well and he wasn't looking forwards to the prospects. "I know," he replied to Vince.
And to rub it in, to let Eric know where he stands, "Because if it's not another guy, I'm going to have to exercise my right and have you and Marco as my 'dungeon playmates'!"
The wry smile on Vince's face rubbed it in, Eric well aware of the fact, that since he had encouraged Vince that night to stand up for Marco Terenzi, opening his checkbook, in return, if Marco didn't show up at Vince's little get together with another 'trick', he would be deemed 'second man in chains'! He could care less if Marco were the other guy. "Like I said," Eric returned with a lazy answer, a bit of sweat forming on his palms, "Marco's working on it and I'm confident he will come through."
Right after he said it, the basement door swings open.
Tidying themselves up, Jake reports, "Man was he a tight fuck!"
"And you, Vlad?" Vince asks of his bodyguard.
Vlad replies, "Emptied two loads down his throat. First time he gagged a lot on my juices, but second time I could force myself deep enough to send my seed right into his stomach!"
"Only once for you?" Eric jokes with Jake, as he holds one mug, then another under the draft beer spout.
"Yeah," he replies, off the cuff. "Got a nice trick downtown later."
Vince inquires, "Oh? And how old are we talking here?"
Reluctant to answer, Jake knew if he spoke the truth, of the college dude, Vince would want a piece of the action. Then again, if he lied and Vince found out, it would be something worse than fate of having his own ass raped, so leveled with him, "One of the frat-boys from the university."
And true to his thinking, Vince replies, "Mmm... why don't you invite him up to the house?"
"Sure. Would be cool," Jake replies, as if it's a good thing, but really wanting the action all for himself.
"Well, I would be closing about now," Eric threw hint, adding a fake choke.
Instead of closing up the bar & grill at 2 a.m., he locked the doors at 11:30, to accomodate Vince's entertaining evening.
"So, if you don't mind finishing up your beers?" Eric had Vince's cheeseburger all ready to 'take out', the usual way if things got on running too late.
"Thanks," he says to Eric, slipping him an envelope. And to his accompanying men, "Get that, Jake?"
"Why always me?" He said, grabbing up the styrofoam container.
Vince smiled, letting Vlad and Jake battle it out, usually winding up whereas, if Jake didn't do what the boss said, Vlad would not mind blowing exhaust out his tailpipe, lodged in Jake's ass!
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Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`Bar Tab Buy-out!' 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.....