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?'
"Living In The Lap Of Luxury" 04 The continuing epic fantasy of the `Buffalo Boys' wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"What do you think you're doing, Peter?"
"Eating my lunch."
"Don't give me that bull. Who's this guy? And where are Steve and Matt?"
"They're at the bar with Dil's friends. Why?"
"Excuse me," Dash Newman says, pulling Peter out from under the table ledge.
"Dash, I think it's okay, if..." Boone tries to settle Dash's hyper-temper.
"No, it's not okay. I left Peter in Steve and Matt's care and they were supposed to take care of him."
"But I'm sure if..."
"No!"
Following Dash, pushing his brother in the handicapped chair, around the maze of tables, he headed to the bar, Boone behind him, with Dil bringing up the rear.
"Steve, what's the meaning of this?"
"Is everything alright?"
Boone tries to say, "Everything is fine."
"Everything is `not' fine. I thought you had been taking care of Peter?" Dash badgers.
Steve Kestner tried to get the point across that he was sure no harm could come to leave him with Dil.
"How do you know, if you just met these men a half hour ago, Steve. I'm really disappointed in..."
Peter didn't go unheeded in the matter. Grabbing hold of his eighteen year old brother's arm, he gives a hefty pull, knocking him off balance, falling to one side, almost onto his lap.
"Dash, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Protecting you, Peter. What the fuck do you think?"
"Protecting me from what, bro?"
At this point, off of his feet, Dash knelt on the floor next to the arm of the handicap chair, peering over the side, almost even with his brother's face.
"From..." he looked around. "From...."
Dash couldn't find a reason. If the bar had broken out in a wild brawl, that would be a good one, but everyone acted calm, except Dash. Right then and there, the only moment held Dash and Peter, whom put his arm over his younger brother's shoulder, bringing him to his chest to hug. The others around him, Steve, Matthew, Nick, Dougie, Dil and Boone, plus a coupla other patrons, took it all in, like a scene from a family drama.
"Look, bro, I know it's been tough for you, with mom and dad gone. I totally appreciate everything that you've done for me, taking me to therapy, cooking for me, doing my clothes, cleaning up after I accidentally don't get to the jon in time, stuff like that, plus juggling your own job and college, but Dash, it's time that I start looking for a life of my own."
Except for the Juke box, the place remained quiet, attuned to the two brothers, emptying out their lives to each other.
"Look, you've got a nice guy, Boone here, and I've got to find one for myself."
"I know," Dash finally admitted.
" Look, Steve foots the bill to bring us out here, so you and Boone can be together and not leave me alone at home. Hasn't Steve and Matt been great to us?"
Starting to feel bad, but recovering from his fit, Dash replies, "Yeah."
"Well, I think you better start your round of apologies with him?" Peter's nod throws a glance in Steve's direction.
Taking the bends and folds out of his clothing, Dash's clothes fill out with a hard, but a beefy musculature, as he stands up. Turning, he faces Steve at the bar. Reaching out his hand he asks for forgiveness.
"Steve, I'm really sorry for all the things I said. I have nothing to accuse you or Matt of anything malicious. Peter's right. You two have been great to us."
Taking Dash's hand, Steve hops off his bar stool, one arm going in between his arm and torso. Soon the two are in a loving hug.
"It's obvious that you've been under a terrific amount of pressure, Dash, so don't go being too hard on yourself."
"Dash?" Peter calls out.
Turning, Steve releasing one side of Dash's bod, they face the handicapped twenty-three year old.
"Huh?"
"I want you to meet Dil."
"Dil?" Dash asks, as if there's more.
"Yeah," Peter gives out a slight giggle, "that's all I've got out of him so far!"
Dil walks up to Dash and extends his hand, offering, "I'm Jon Diliberto, but the guys call me Dil."
Steve helps pressure Dash's arm out from his stomach area.
Slowly he replies, taking Dil's hands, "Um... it's... nice to... um, meet you... Dil."
"C'mon, you can do better than that guys," Dougie offers.
Taking his palm, he positions it against Dil's back, giving a slight push. In order to keep himself from tripping, his arm goes behind Dash's back, as his body is flung forwards, plastering their chests together. Steve partially benefits from Dougie's move.
Nick scolds, "Douglass, you're being pushy again."
Even though Nick has impressed upon Dougie his inborn instincts of being a matchmaker, he's done it again.
Matthew laughs, as Dougie announces to the world, "Dil and Dash are almost inlaws. They should be `closer' friends!"
Breaking their forced hold, Dash asks, "Is this true, Peter? Are you falling for this guy?"
"For God's sake, Dash, Dil and I just met..." Then as matter-of-factly, Peter says, "I could be..."
Then Dash turns on Dil.
"Is this true, Dil? Do you like Peter..."
"Well, I..."
"You know he's a lot of work... you have to launder and cook and clean and..."
"Yo! Time out!" Peter yells out, his hands making the `T' signal, as if playing sports. "Don't you remember that just this past week, Dash, I did the laundry and tried to cook dinner?"
"Tried to cook dinner?" Nick asked.
Dash says, "Yeah, big deal. He took some frozen pizza out and nuked it."
Suddenly all the gleam goes out of Peter, as if air from a surprise gutpunch.
Again, Dougie, the outspoken one' says, "That's right, Dash. Go ahead. Your bro did something for himself and' you, so go ahead and hit'em in the balls!"
One of the patrons says, "Nice goin', kid."
Boone ventures to say, "He's right, Dash."
On one knee, Dash bent. His hand picked up the chin that had been pasted up against Peter's chest. Boone's hands remained on the sides of Peter's shoulders, where they had been comforting him.
"Look, Dash, I'm sorry."
The two conversed.
"You know Doctor Hollis said there's a chance I might gain back some feeling in my legs."
"I know."
"Well, I have to start getting around better. You've done everything for me and now that I'm feeling up to par... well, except for walking around, I've have to get on with my life and so do you. I can't be the millstone around your neck, holding you back, Dash."
"But I promised..."
"I know you promised mom, before she passed on and you've done a great job. I'll be forever grateful for everything you've done for me, Dash. I'll never be able to pay you back."
"I'm not expecting that, Peter. We're brothers," Dash gave the reasoning.
Their heads now close enough to the position lovers take, the conversation became more hushed. Steve, Matt and Nick returned to their beers. Dougie hopped off his stool and closed in the gaps around the small circle of guys.
"Hi, I'm Dougie Hazard."
"Boone Diggles," he offered his hand.
"I feel like I already know you. Your bro, Matt, has told us about you."
"Good stuff, I hope."
"Mostly," Dougie kids.
Dil is sucked in to Dash's and Peter's conversation, as Dougie and Boone pair off.
"Can I buy you a beer, Boone?"
"Are you legal enough to drink it, Dougie?"
"I'm only required to show my license to the bartender, but you can take a look, if you want to."
"Nah," Boone shrugs it off.
With beers in hand, the two head back to the table Dil and Peter once ate at. They watch Dil pushing the handicapped chair in the direction of the restrooms, Dash still on their trail.
"What do you think?"
"About what, Dougie?"
"Dash. He finally going to let go?"
"I think it'll happen in stages. A little at a time."
"You're right. I sure hope Dil and Peter hit if off."
"What's his story?"
"Who? Dil?"
"Yeah."
"He's had if tough, but is finally getting his life on track."
Dougie didn't go into the fine details.
"Is he a student? What does he do?"
"Checking him out, are you?"
"I have an interest in Dash. I think... no, I know I'm falling for him."
"And him?"
"He likes me... a lot..."
The two laugh, getting more into the friendship mode.
"Dil is an artist."
"Really? Cool! So is Peter, `cept he's not exactly sure in which direction he wants to take his talent."
"Oh? How's that go, Boone?"
"Before the accident he threw pottery and had his sights on setting up a studio, maybe teaching art, but the accident changed all that."
Of course, Boone's statement turned to Dougie asking all about the crippling accident. Near the end of the heart-wrenching account, the three returned, all freshend up.
"What's Boone telling you?" Peter asked.
Obviously, their demeanor spelled out the fact of the matter.
Dougie lies through his teeth, "Oh, he's been telling me how you've relied on your poor brother to have to go through the trouble every night of spreading your legs out on the bed and jerking you off. Dash, I really feel bad for you man!"
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"Oooooh...oooooh...oooohhh," Dario gasped, as he felt his pubes get wet, his cock pump out whatever liquid could squeeze through the confining wraps around his balls.
"Ooooooooooooooaakkkkkkkkkkkkkkhhhhh!" Zek soon followed, his semen shooting out in thin squirts. He followed with, "This torture too much!"
"I'll say..."
After some labored breathing, the two mellowed out, falling under the spell of sleep.
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Looking around, James Whatley, the twenty-three year old EMT, turned nurse, at the hospital staff physician's request, spied around the room to make sure no one was looking. Bending over Marat's sleeping composure, he placed lips on his. As if Sleeping Beauty coming back to life, Marat flicked his eyelids, waking.
"Good morning, my love!"
"Wha-what time is it?"
"Is that all you can offer?" James stood up, backs of his hands stuck to the sides of his torso.
"Oh yeah. Kiss me."
"How romantic!" James said. Then giggling, he bent over, saying, "I guess I better take it while the gettin's good!"
However, it became more than a quickie, as Marat found favor in the sweet lip-lock, his hand going behind James' neck, forcing them to linger more than a moment.
"Ahem!"
Fighting to be released, James stood up, his face a slight discoloration.
"Sorry to break up this sweet moment, but I need these papers signed for Mr. Saint-Marc's release?"
Dr. Joubert, totally at ease with what he viewed, stood there, watching James hold the paper, as Marat signed off his `John Handcock'.
"James, I've made arrangements for your release from the EMT squad, indefinitely and you are to accompany Mr. Saint-Marc to my home to convalesce, until he's fully regenerated."
Then it dawns on James, "Then what happens after that, Dr. Joubert?"
"That's entirely up to you."
With his own thoughts, James says, "What happens if..."
Dr. Joubert reads James' mind, "You'll be missed around here, but I know you'll make a fine doctor. I know many fine staff members at NYU and I'd be happy to write any letters of introduction, based on my experiences with you."
"Um, all my experiences, Dr. Joubert?"
Marat looks up from signing the papers.
"We'll leave out the non-professional matters!"
"You didn't tell me..."
"Ahem! Yeah, I'll fill you in later, Marat," James catches him mid-sentence.
"I'll have an orderly bring a chair in and we'll have you out of here. And James?"
"Yes, Dr. Joubert?"
"When you're in the pool, don't get his arm wet. Keep blotting his arm when you're in the sauna and unless you can keep his arm dry, I'd skip the hot tub for now."
"Yes, sir!"
"And James?"
"Yes?"
"You `do' remember where the condoms are kept?"
"Really, `Francois', you're giving away all our secrets!"
Dr. Joubert smiles, grabbing up the signed papers, closing the door behind him, as he leaves.
"Is it true, James? Did you fuck Dr. Joubert?"
"We'll talk about it some other time, okay? Let's get you up and into some street clothes."
Peeling back the sheet, he notices the edge of the hospital garment nearly up to Marat's pecs, the dark-haired, defined trail down his stomach, tiny veins of follicles stretching outwards.
"Another mess for me to clean up!"
"Sorry, James. I couldn't contain myself."
"I know what you mean. Wet dreams can bring out the best in a guy. C'mon, let's get you into the shower."
"I'm not an invalid, you know. I can...owwwch..oh.. oh..."
"What'd you say, Marat?"
"I said, `better help me into the shower."
"That's what I thought you didn't say!"
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"Have you boys all kissed and made up?"
Steve, Matthew and Nick have arrived at the table with Boone, Dash, Dil, Peter and Dougie roundabout it.
"We've made up, but we're waiting to have a fivesome, for the kissing," Dougie replies in his usual smart alec fashion.
"I'm afraid you won't be seeing anything but a twosome tonight, Douglass" Nick pulls Dougie, forcing him up out of the group of five.
"I think I can settle for that."
Steve opens the conversation back up with, "Nick has invited the five of us to stay at the Joubert mansion, if that pleases the rest of you?"
"I'm not sure," comes out of Dash's mouth.
"I think it's a good idea," Peter directly contradicts, with a smile.
"Yeah. Okay," his brother concedes.
Getting up from the table, Dash purposefully neglects to gather the handles of Peter's handicapped chair.
"Hey, what about me?"
"You've got Dil. What do you need me for?"
Of course, Dash's remarks had been meant in a satirical manner.
He closed, before walking out, "Get used to it, Dil!"
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"What the fuck is this? Who gave you permission to cum?"
It's strange, even though virtually having their pubes tied together, how Zek and Dario each felt the other shutter, at hearing Reinken's bellowing voice of disapproval. Reinken took off both blindfolds. The first thing Dario and Zek did is look down their chests, over their stomachs, to peer at their messed up pubes.
"Oh shit!" Dario called out, seeing his cock, all red, even though drenched in his self release.
Zek didn't say anything, but Dario watched his eyes open as wide as saucers, gazing at his hairy pubes, his almost purple balls showing through the massive amounts of black pubic hair.
"You untie the other slaveboy and then get in the shower. I want you out here in ten minutes. Got that boy?"
"Yes, sir," Zek replied. Then Zek, changing his demeanor, shying away from the `boy' attitude, asks, "Reinken?"
He got a dirty look in return.
Sitting up, as Zek untied his hands, Dario cautiously says, "I think what Zek is going to say is... well, I don't think this bdsm stuff is for us. I mean what just happened is kind of erotic, but..."
"Too much pain for me," Zek, "but I thank you for trying it with me..." getting up from the bed, after untying Dario, he continues, "it good experience!"
Smiling, not the evil smile he's capable of, Reinken walks over to the mid eastern man. Placing a hand behind his head, the German reels him in for a kiss.
"Debt pain!"
"Um, don't I get paid, too?"
Dario didn't receive that kind type of payment.
"Owwwwwwwwch! That was fuckin' dirty!"
Reinken now smiled the evil way, after swatting the head of Dario's dick. Not paying much attention, he left, closing the door, just in time to miss the pillow being thrown at him.
"Now we clean up?"
"Yeah. Come over here?"
"What?" Zek inquires, standing at the side of the bed.
Taking Zek's hand, the Italian-Latino gives a pull, wanting him to take the hint to kneel on the bed.
"Your balls still hurt?"
Zek feels his own balls up, replying, "A little."
"They still look awfully sore, if you ask me."
He doesn't give Zek the chance to decipher for himself the condition of his big, red orbs. Lifting one of them, he licks the hairy ball sac.
"That feel real good."
"C'mon. Lie down."
"What you do, Dario?"
"Get you cleaned up?" Dario replied, as he exchanged places.
Hovering over Zek's pubes, Dario lay down between his out-stretched legs. Again, lifting the hairy ball sac, he licks. Then licks again. After two more times, he stuffs it in his mouth.
"Oooooooooooh that feel very good!"
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"This is `some' place!"
"Yes it is, Marat. That it is. C'mon. Let's go inside. I'll show you around."
Wondering about the second chapter of James' life, Marat allows himself to be helped from the car that had been sent to the hospital to pick him up and brought out to the Joubert estate.
"I'm dying to hear all about you and the doc, James."
"In good time. How about a swim?"
"I just got out of the shower."
"Oh. Right."
"But, most likely my friends are out by the pool, so if it's okay?"
"Sure."
Only his friends? To Marat, it looked like the entire stock of Timber Creek had been invited to stay at the mansion. Spied entering the pool area, Mac and Ron cheered, running towards the two.
"Oh my!" Marat said, his French accent beaming through.
More than glad to see his friends, he watched with keen eye, waist level, the two eighteen year old jocks, jogging to him, their jewels bouncing all around. As more of his friends spotted him, more bouncy-bounces occured, resembling a keenly coreographed dance of sorts.
Marat said out of the corner of his mouth, "This is making me hard."
"You're not the only one," James told him back.
Looking down, to his left, Marat spied what looked like Jame's sausage getting ready for a feast.
"You better hide that thing til I can take care of it."
Not being in the limelight, James ducked to the side, his hand reaching in his pocket to make some adjustments. No such luck for Marat though and it was noticable.
"Shit! Marat really missed us. Look at this, Ron!"
"Will you fuckin' cool it, Mac?" Marat said, brushing his hand off his crotch.
Of course, it became the joke of the hour, others catching on to the bulge in Marat's pants. After some chit chat and `how are you doing?', the gang returned poolside or in it.
"Ready for me to take care of that, James?"
"Oh no you don't. I'm here to take care you and don't you forget it!"
"Yeah, I know. When I'm better, I'll make it up to you."
But for now, all that mattered to James is holding Marat in his arms and delivering some sweet affection, falling deeper into the spiral of deep love.
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"You're heavy."
"Here, let me help," Peter says, flicking the switch on the side of the chair.
Dil stands there, watching him whiz away, under battery power.
"Why didn't you do that before?"
While Nick and Dougie helped Steve, Matt, Boone and Dash gather their remnants from the hotel, Dil and Peter had some fun in the lobby.
"Careful!" Dil yelled out.
"Oh shit! Almost killed that coffee table! I don't rightly have the hang of this yet."
"Looks like fun."
"Believe me, it's not. I'd rather be.... never mind."
Dil could see he put a downer on the fun they had.
"Sorry there, Peter."
"It's okay. No harm meant. The way I figure it, you have to get used to me being like this... I mean... Damn!"
"What's the matter, Peter?"
"Here I am talking like you're going to be there for me."
"I am... aren't I?"
"I don't know. We just met. I'm talking like we... you know."
"Peter?"
"Yeah, Dil?"
"Why don't we make... make a pact."
"A pact? How would that go?"
"Well, we're going to be together til... when is it that Steve is going back to New Jersey?"
"Another few days. He called and can take some vacation time."
"Fine. While we're together, let's see where it goes."
"That's cool, Dil and no hard feelings if we don't work out?"
"Exactly what I was thinking."
As Peter watched Dil, going to help the others with their luggage, a warm, melancholy moment began to emanate from his inside being. Dammit, this better work out!', he demanded of himself, watching the blond, blue-eyed twenty-two year old run to give hands. I need a... no, I deserve a break.' Reminiscent of Scarlet O'Hara's performance, right before intermission, her reference to raising up Tara from the ashes, Peter, not a religious guy, pleaded with God to make Dil his own. His plea to God, to make Dil the happiest of men, he swore with crossing the heart-side of his chest.
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To Be Continued.....
Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.