% This work of fiction is set in the format of real-world situations. Identifying details to real people, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental in nature.
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% If sexual scenes involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if dude-to-dude sex & related stuff makes you wanna barf or is gonna screw up your mind, you should not read this story.
% Sexual safety matters. Guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection and I don't mean going out and hiring a security guard...unless he gives your nuts and bolt a jolt!
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'SiLeNTLy PoPuLAR' o7
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
Within 15 minutes of Carl and Tom arriving back at Tim's room, Andris opens the door to a familiar face and voice, "Andris, you've got to do me this huge favor," he presses on the swim jock's fuzzy chest, pushing him inside, the other hand slamming the door closed.
Andris was more than reluctant to do so, having he was the one who had pinched Eric's nips, gave him a nice hard on and came with a fury, leaving the college student to jerk himself off, like it was a hit and run.
"Favor, Eric?" Andris played hard to get. "Seems to me, if anyone owes anyone a favor, it's you owing me?"
Eric bit a lip, proceeding, "I know. I'm sorry. The least I could've done is given you a blow job back, but I'm desperate."
Tim, he just sat there, like he was a fly on the wall.
Folding arms across his pecs, Andris says, "what could be so desperate as to interrupt my new room mate and I getting to know each other."
He hadn't noticed, Eric glancing at the bed, "oh. Hi," he offers a forced smile to Tim.
"Hey," Tim says, with more interest in this hot dude's business with his room mate.
That was it, short and sweet, Eric turning his attention back, "Andris, you've got to do me this one favor and I'll never ask again?"
"Depends," Andris complies, dropping both arms like he was disgusted, "on what you've gotten yourself into this time, Eric."
Eric went on to say he perused the internet, finding this chatroom which catered to S&M and after he got himself deep into meeting up with two really hot, alpha-looking dudes, giving him an address and all, "they sounded really scary and I'm sorry that," he hesitates.
"For?" Andris cocks his head and waits.
"I gave them this address."
"The college?"
Biting a lip, Eric says, "um, a little more than that."
Minutes ago Andris was calling Tim smart, which has him step off the edge of the bed and say, "he gave them our room number?"
"What the fuck, Eric?" Andris was ready to go berserk.
Eric tried to sway things in a more friendly direction, pointing his thumb to Tim, "hey, nice looking room mate," and in silent, wording it, 'is he, you know?'
Tim was dying to put his skills to work, after many a time he's observed how cruelly delightful Carl put Tom through and no, as opportunity has presented itself, "yeah I'm gay and," like Carl used to put it to his brother, "you better watch your step or," Tim cradles his crotch in one hand, like Carl did, "I'll run all ten inches up your ass, faster than a freight train!"
Neither Carl, nor Tim were ten inches, but it drove a point home!
Both Andris and Eric stood there, jaws dropped open, his room mate not saying a word, but the submissive bottom remarking, "hell yeah, Tod!"
"It's Tim," both Tim and Andris say in unison, looking at each other.
As Eric had signaled to him, about whether Tim was gay, Andris mouths silently to his room mate, 'really? Ten inches?'
Tim smiles, a deeper grin, which tells he was joking.
However, Eric had bought and watching out for his own interests, "maybe you can work my ass over real quick before they get here, Tim?"
Andris, bottom at sex, was differently inclined when it came to s&m and feeling a little horny himself, "I guess we could take Eric at both ends?"
Tim was now sorry he acted out, especially about the ten inch part, "I think I'll pass, but I'll keep myself 'hyper', being a spectator?"
As Tim had done when Carl and Tom played out a fantasy. He loved it, Tom, older, bending and bowing, bowled over when the time came, Carl working his brothers ass over hard and rough. Sometimes Tim, cupping his own balls and jerking his shaft, felt like he was working with ten inches!
Then Eric's cell rings with a tune, "that's the guys. What do I tell them?"
Tim suggests, "answer, before they think you're not being serious."
"Right," Eric, a bit flustered, tabs a key and holds the phone to his ear, "hey."
Tim and Andris remain attentive.
"Um, right. Yeah, you've got the right place, but."
Again, rembering how Carl put it, Tim takes the cell from Eric and says in the best imitation of a mean ass SOB, "hey, just get your asses up here. My hard shaft is leaking, thinking of us working this bad boy over!"
'Wow!' Andris was thinking. Not at how he pictured Tim upon meeting him for the first time.
"Cool," Eric says, "you going to join in, Tim?"
"Let me just ask," Tim is curious, "I take it you've never played with these guys before?"
"Uh," Tim says, like he's already got a strike against himself, "right."
Carl was a good teacher, Tim saying, "you're meeting pair of guys you know nothing about, have never met and don't know how cruel they can get?"
Andris answers for his campus buddy, "well, when they show up, Eric, you could always tell them the deal's off?"
"Um," Eric says, with the jitters, "I don't think they're the kind that take kindly to being stood up?"
A loud pounding on the door has the three jumping, looking at each other, silent reflections on what are they supposed to do.
"Tim, it's Tom."
At least Tim and Andris could relax, but Eric was still on edge.
Returning to campus, Carl had directed Tom to park in some slot which apparently had been designated security. It's then Carl cursed, saying Phil indeed had a vehicle and it had been parked in the 'head of security' parking space, that they had been duped into providing Phil uber service!
One of the reasons Carl didn't mind going back to fetch Tom's cell phone, is with a silent agenda.
"Hey," he says, pointing to the number on Tim's door.
"What am I supposed to be looking at?"
Tom didn't know, Carl wanting to surprise him when he sprung it on him, "a little surprise I had for you, but I guess since we're here now?"
"Surprise? What are you getting at Carl?"
Cool, calm and collectively, Carl says, "you're about to find out."
Tom entering first, Carl trailing, looks directly at the assistant swim coach, saying, "so, you're Eric?"
Little did Tom know, back at their hotel, Carl had been on a website, trying to find a playmate for Phil.
"You're those guys?" Eric says.
"No," Tim butts in, "you're mistaken. These aren't the guys from the internet. This here is my brother, Tom and his boyfriend," he swaps phones with Tom.
In their online chat, much information had been passed, which encompasses what both Carl and Eric like and what their expectations could be. Such as that, when Carl realizes it, he walks up to Eric and plows his fist into his stomach!
"Oh shit, Carl!" Tim says, bending to help Eric from the coddling of his abs and on his knees.
Andris, witness to Eric's favorite past time tags Tim's shoulder, "leave him be. He's loving it."
"Loving what?" Tim doesn't get it.
Carl stands there, rubbing his crotch, belittling Eric, "what a woosie. Can't take a little tap to the gut?"
For Tim and Andris, the apparent fierce S&M couple now fit the description of Carl and Tom, which had them relaxing a bit. The only thing which didn't fit, after speaking with Tim's brother and Carl, is why Eric needed an accompanying bottom-boy.
"Two?" Carl questions, then dictates to Eric while still on his knees, "what kind of lies have you been telling about me, boy?"
Tom was loving it, thinking Eric really cute, which made him put a hand in his pants pocket, thinking of being teamed up with college boy.
Back to folding arms across his middle, Andris says, "that's what I'd like to know," he enunciates, "Eric?"
Eric's played the game before, staying with knees on the floor, explains, "okay, so I was supposed to go by myself, but I needed someone to watch out for me, y'know, Andris?"
Looking up at Andris, he didn't know whether to kick Eric or kiss him, "oh."
Carl lets up, "oh. Okay. That's understandable, but you should have mentioned that when we were chatting."
With slight hesitation, Eric says, "so, are we still on?"
The brothers had taken to checking out the lay out of the room, Tom making sure Tim had everything he needed.
Tapping his lips, Carl made it like he was deciding, when in reality he wanted to give Eric the attention he deserved and lusted over, "I suppose I could give you another chance, but it's going to cost you."
Eric jumps at the opportunity, "anything. You can even use me, no limits."
"Now that definitely sweetens the pot," Carl says.
After Eric had mentioned, the two of them playing with the S&M couple, Andris had some good vibrations going in his loins, "and I think I 'should' go along, so as to, 'you know'?"
Carl thought it an interesting prospect, being he would be teaming up the college head of security and Eric, swim coach, wondering if they knew each other?
Eric really wanted all the attention for himself, suggesting, "I don't know about you, Andris, leaving Tim his first night on campus alone?"
Looking at Tim, Andris says, "yeah. I didn't think of that. I should stay."
But thinking of Carl and his methods of play, Tim knew Andris would love the kind of play, "no. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Maybe I'll take a walk down to the commons and make friends."
So. There Tim was, after saying his goodbyes, all alone for the night.
%
Carl and Tom, after traveling back to the motel, didn't have a pair of cuffs, but did make Eric strip down naked for the walk to their room. They cut Andris a break, allowing him to walk naked from the waist up.
%
Tim, he thought about going out, but then shy about it. He was about to give up on the idea all together, surf the net a little, then conk off in bed, when a knock came at the door.
Opening it, Tim says, "yes?"
Surprised, the lad lifts his eyebrows, "you're not Andris."
"Nope. I'm Tim. Who are you?"
The college freshman smiles, holds up a book and says, "I'm Bill. Andris lent me this book. I'm returning it."
Bill had already learned, after returning a book or tossing a football around out on the grounds, called 'the commons', Andris liked going shirtless. He also thought how unabashed Andris was when he came to call, standing there at the door, flashing all that black pec-covering, the wide stripe down the abs, the swirl around his navel. He was surprised to find another standing there in Andris' place.
Tim had a hold on the book, but Bill wasn't letting go until it became obvious, "oh. Sorry about that."
"No problem," Tim set the book down without breaking the fixation on Bill's face.
"So. I guess you're Andris' room mate?"
"That I am. Did he mention I'm Tim?" was Tim's way of introducing himself, again.
"No. He just mentioned he was getting a room mate. Lucky him."
It made Tim smile, thinking Bill had just paid him a compliment, of which he reciprocates, "your room mate must be pretty lucky himself!"
That drew a smile on Bill's face and realizing it himself, that they had struck up a friendship, "say, have you seen any of the campus?"
"Nope. Was thinking of going out tonight and have a look, but chickened out."
Bill couldn't explain it, but had this urge. Not something sexual, but more along a brotherly friendship. Strange, because he didn't have siblings, that he should feel it that way, but also thought of it as maybe something more. He was gay and with all his might wished Tim could be the same. Childish, yes, but nonetheless had this unrelenting draw.
"Well, if you wanted to reconsider, I've heard they have good beer down at the campus pub?"
"Okay," Tim thought it okay.
Another distraction, a knock comes at the door.
"Expecting anyone?" Bill asks.
"I don't know anyone, to expect!" Tim giggles, flailing limbs to his sides, a gesture to show 'its only me'.
Tim opens the door to a rather hot man, but definitely not within their age range, "yes?"
"Oh, there you are, Bill," the older dude says.
"Professor Santini. What's up?"
"My cell phone died, and I was wondering if you would be interested in going over that flute concerto you've been working on."
It took Bill seconds, thinking 'how many times' Prof Santini's phone has died, showing up at his door!
His door, but at Tim's dorm room, it irked Bill, "but how did you know I'd be here?"
"Your room mate. He said you were on your way to meet some new student who moved in," the professor says.
Inner thoughts have Tim cracking a little smile, thinking Bill was here for him and not Andris
"Room mate?" Bill questions. "But I don't have a room mate," at which point Bill sets out into the hallway, a man with a mission.
With the short walk down the hall, Professor Santini and Tim get to know each other with handshakes and an exchange of names, Santini trusting Tim with his first calling, 'Mateo'.
Tim had recognized the case Bill carried, having played the clarinet a short while, but regardless, right now, standing there and staring into Mateo's bearded face, wishes he had stuck with high school band class!
When Bill finally reaches his room, he throws open the door and stands there in shock. There are clothes strewn all over the room and this dude is sitting on 'his' bed, no shirt, no shoes, playing a guitar.
"Hey," he gets up, placing the guitar on the bed and flaunting his hot Latino bod, "I heard you were a musician like me!"
Maybe they shared music in common, but Bill didn't think the dude resembled a guitar player at all. He didn't fit the image. They learn that 'Rio' never played the guitar till last year and with no major, decided this instrument was his thing.
Mateo didn't mind the eye candy, the chubbiness, hairy pecs, stomach, which made a cushy pillow for the guitar.
It made Tim smile, watching Professor Santini's eyes check Rio out, from head to toe and back again. When the Prof's eyes returned, lifting up after a detailed stalking, he could very well guess the sexual orientation, which had Tim giving himself away by flicking his flat hand in front of the musician's face.
"Oh," Professor Santini says, noticing Tim had noticed his gallant stare, "was I that obvious?"
Realizing he had his attention fixed on the prof, Tim says, "somewhat."
And of 'Rio', he wasn't reluctant at all of what he said about himself, "man, you gringos sure are damn hot!"
It made the three of them laugh, when Rio shouts like a wolf, "oww-ooh," beating his meaty pecs, as a jungle beast would!
Bill finally comes to his senses and all he could think of at this moment, is how neat the room was when he left. In the course of seeking out the handsome guy down the hallway, not only did things get out of whack, but a planter he had sitting on the window had tumbled over.
Bill visibly goes to its rescue, saying with attitude, "really, Rio?"
"Oh, sorry about that," Rio says, finding excuse, "it looks half dead anyway."
Standing in the doorway, Mateo didn't really want to interfere, but Tim could tell he was holding back.
Tim says to Mateo, "I feel sorry for Bill."
"Yeah, me too," Mateo says, his eyes having gravitated from Rio to Tim.
Their attention span is drawn back to Bill, when he says, "I'm going out now, but when I get back, if things aren't the way they are when you arrived here Rio, there will be hell to pay!"
When the three get outside the door, Tim smiles, saying, "hell to pay? Really, Bill?"
He backs down, saying, "no. Not really, but if I don't say something from the beginning, he wouldn't do a damn thing."
Mateo interjects, "and if you come back and find the room the same as you left it this time?"
Like he was a commercial artist, trying to sell a product, Bill smiles, jokes, "there'll be hell to pay!"
Mateo laughed along with the two freshman, as if he were their age and not thirty-four.
It connected with Tim's memory center of his brain, of how Carl and Tom used to play. Sometimes punishment meant Carl, taking his older sibling, with pants down, over his knee and giving him a spanking as if he were a little kid. Other times it a strap across Tom's back. First time it had Tim stealing the leather whipping implement out of Carl's hand, barking, 'are you crazy?' But after Tom explained how hard and leaky it made him feel...well, it was just another one of life's lessons, of what guys can get off on.
Bill could have sworn the campus pub was due west, but Mateo pointed them in a direction he hadn't intended.
Tim says of Bill's blunder, "I take it the other way is the east gate?"
"You were right," Bill says, coming upon the gaily lit one story building.
"Aren't I always?"
"No," Bill says.
"Oh. Right. You got me," Mateo replies.
Tim could see some chemistry between them, which led to conversation, "so, how did you two meet?"
It was perfect for Mateo, wanting to expose the truth for the past couple of days, "geesh, Tim, you make it sound like we're a gay couple?"
He giggled, Bill outing him, along with himself, "I could only wish!"
"Oh. Well. I guess our secret is out."
They all laughed and soon the truth about their sexuality was known between the three of them.
It was Tim who fielded the question, "so Mateo..."
"Mat," he shortens it.
"Mat then, do you have a crush on Bill?"
Bill wondered that too and soon enough Mat had two pairs of eyes staring him down for an answer.
It's not like Mat didn't think of it. What he did think of, is never getting involved in students' lives, but here he was, sitting in the campus pub and casually sharing a beer with two freshmen.
When he first met Bill, it didn't take long for him to more than want to accompany him on a Mozart flute concerto, but after meeting Tim, "no and yes."
"Not yes and no?" Bill says.
Mat was in a fix. He was putting a lot on the line, not to mention his impeccable career as a former concert pianist, retiring into college life, "maybe, but."
Bill jumps in with, "you have a crush on me?"
"I did."
A feeling came over Bill, like someone had busted his favorite balloon, "oh."
He hated seeing Bill like this, because maybe what started out as accompanying him, turning to digging him to the point that he wanted to tear that flute out of his mouth and replace the silver instrument with his lips, "well, maybe I have two crushes now?"
It was his turn to wait for reaction, "there. I've said it and I hope now that I have, I'm not going to lose my teaching license."
Another reason for Tim, if he had never met Carl and how off the wall offensive he could be in situations, asks, "well, one thing I'm not clear on."
"What's that, Tim?" Mat asks.
"Are you a top or a bottom?"
Good thing the pub wasn't packed to the gills, the trio off to the side, laughing their asses off.
When the laughter dies, Tim pressures, "well, which are you, Mat?"
Two beers was enough to cloud Mat's judgement, talking about matters like this, and with no reluctance, "I wonder which one of you tastes the best?!"
Bill, more reserved, says, "well I guess we'll never learn the answer to that question."
More bold, Tim says, "why not? I'd love to see how much of me Mat can get down his throat!"
They laughed again, Bill, feeling pretty good, says, "hell, Tim?"
Putting Mat on the spot, " I don't think we should even be talking about this. Let's get real, fellas?"
It's then that Tim decides to not let it go, lifts his foot under the table and knocks Mat between the legs.
Jumping his chair backwards, Mat yells, "okay, which one of ya's was that?"
"Was what?" Bill questions.
Tim laughs out loud.
Unfortunately for Mat, his 9c was already to bust out of his jeans and the touch of a toe only irked it on, "I think I better see myself to the little boys room."
Acting like a little kid, Tim now blocked Mat's escape with a foot to his side, complaining, "oh come on Mat. We wanna see!"
Less enthusiastic, but curious, Bill says, "we do?"
With 2 beers a piece in them, the beer was talking, Tim no way reluctant to whine, "oh come on, Mat, aren't you dying to see what we're packing?"
He was, but Mat had already gotten himself in way more deep than he anticipated, "no. This is ending here. Get it, boys?"
Tim answers, all smartalecky, "no, we want to see daddy's big shaft!"
"Shaft?" Bill questions. "Is that the same as a cock?"
Mat, just sitting there, could just bust out laughing, but his 'shaft' was feeling differently, listening to their definitions.
"Same, except it's bigger. So big," Tim lifts hands wide apart, making it seem like Mat's shaft was three feet long, "and wide," he narrows his hands a bit, "I bet he can tear an ass apart!"
Mat was ready to hide under the table, only that would make him so horny he'd prolly wind up giving two blow jobs right now!
"C'mon guys. I think we've had enough."
This time he could slide out of the booth with no threat of confinement, saying, "let's go."
Again, Tim brazenly says, "we don't get to finish our beer?"
Bill too wanted to stick around, "same?"
"Very well," Mat says with rolling his eyes. However, he wasn't taking it off the table, the thought of alternating between two thick shafts, "think I'll take a little snooze. Bill, you know my car and where my parking space is. Come find me and I'll give you boys a lift home."
Tim laughs, "who's home would that be?"
"The dorm?" Mat says, shaking his head back and forth.
In reality, on his way back to his parking space, Mat entertained the thought of himself following Tim and Bill into the dorm, up to either one of the rooms they inhabited.
Whistling a happy tune from a piano concerto he studied when in his youth at a music conservatory, Mat dropped out of it, upon looking up at the sky. It was dark, except for the lamps which lit up the campus grounds, enough that he could tell there was a change in the weather. Being from the midwest, Mat could compare a simple rain shower to that of a more wild weather pattern.
He said to himself, "this is not good."
With mixed reaction, he thought of going back to the pub and alerting Tim and Bill, but then the night sky seemed to subside. Pleased with that, Mat got in his car. Since he was going to wait for Tim and Bill, he neglects to plug the seat belt in. He's done it before, in need of relieving himself, looks to the left and right, forward and through the rearview to make sure he was the sole human around the vicinity of his parked car. He unbuckles his belt. Placing his feet on the floor he pushes his butt off the seat, grabs the top of his pants and unzips. That was the hard part. Unbuttoning is easy enough. Unparting the flaps of his pants, Mat feels up what he already knows it true.
"Oh-h-h yeah," he says, pleased to find his shaft had filled up the capacity of his briefs.
Mat grew up with tightey-whities, but when he turned seventeen, found himself to be quite the sexually active teen, switching to boxer shorts. In high school, he thought that guys who wore boxers were nerds. In the locker room one day, Mat had been prepping for the shower. In the valley of this one set of lockers, sat him and another athlete. Mat took up tennis, but been blessed with a hunky football player, returning from the weight room downstairs, sharing the same row of lockers.
He doesn't know where the moxie came from, because the footballer was twice the girth of himself, Mat says, "boxers? Really?"
When the footballer got up off the bench, the only article of clothing he had on were the boxer shorts, which as he stood, his cock popped out of the fly, "you got a problem with that Santini?"
He had showered with the other tennis players and on purpose had studied the schedule of this one athlete, slowing his progress, which had the other tennis team members shower, dress, leave. Five minutes past that, while Mat sat there with nothing on, Trevor appears from around the side of the lockers.
As routine goes, right before the strip down, Trevor whips off his sweaty tank top, peels his gym shorts and just drops them on the floor as he dials the combination to his locker.
Mat had it down pat, pretending he was looking at a tennis catalog, but peering to his right, catching as many glimpses as he could, without getting caught.
By this time Trevor has stuffed his sweaty gear in his locker, taken out a jug of protein powder and after pouring water into a sports bottle, gives it some hefty shakes. He knew Mat Santini was there, but played it like he was the only occupant of the locker room.
Mat had never noticed, until this day, questioning Trevor on his apparel, that through the slit of the boxer shorts, how 'big' he had hoped the football hero could be.
Now, wishing he had kept quiet and opinions to himself, Mat watches as Trevor walks over to him. On purpose he focused on the athlete's handsome face. Mat fought like never in his life, to keep his chin up!
He was totally whacked out of his gourd when Trevor looks down at his crotch and says, "I hope that's not an erection between your balls, Santini?"
Yeah, it had been kind of obvious, Mat sitting there after his shower, the towel that was around his waist, now lying out on the bench, his butt perched on the terry fabric.
Perhaps Trevor had done some locker-room-stalking himself, reaching down into his boxer shorts, grabbing his meat and hauling it out, parking the elastic rim of the boxers under his big balls, "you're Italian. How about tasting these meatballs, Santini?"
Mat didn't want to play easy to get, standing up bold and proud, "what the fuck, Trevor?"
They were both of the same height, Trevor maybe having an inch or two on him. Much as Mat intended, to keep eye-to-eye, he couldn't help but take in the view below.
Without Mat even voicing opinion, Trevor says, "yeah, Santini. I know you want it. Go for it!"
Still, Mat didn't want things to go that easily, retorting, "I will if you will."
Looks can be deceiving, as Trevor has found out, with Mat sitting and his junk corralled in by his thighs. Also, less shy, Trevor reaches down and while his own balls and cock are cupped in one hand, he holds Mat's rod.
"I suppose that would be fair."
One of his better fantasies, even though based on truth, with Mat's hand fondling himself, he follows Trevor to the weight lifting room, where they lay down on rubber flooring. Trevor's head is towards Mat's feet. Mat's head is in the direction of Trevor's feet.
"You first Santini."
Still playing it cool, even though the saliva was building up on his tongue, with an insatiable hunger, Mat says, "no. You."
Whether or not Trevor had the same hunger, Mat's bluff works, the footballer's lips sucking in the tip of his shaft. Without even a hint, Mat's lips were on Trevor and soon they were each sucking cocks and licking balls.
Back at his car, like it was yesterday, thoughts come to fruition, Mat pulling the lever of his seat, falling into a lying down position as his hard shaft fills with semen from his boiling balls. Like lightning, Mat's fantasy changes to chapter two, feet in the air, Trevor pounding his ass.
Strictly coincidental, as Mat's shaft spurts out wave after wave of spunk, an ugly bolt of lightning courses through the sky.
"Shit!"
Then, from out of nowhere, the clouds unleash their wet burden, the dash window pounded with rain.
At that very same moment, he hears pounding on the passenger side window.
With a tweaking of his key fob, Mat says, "c'mon," he yells, "get in."
Instead of the front, Bill and Tim sit in the back of Mat's car.
"Oh good," Tim says, "he's taking us home."
"To your home," Mat says, "but not until this lets up a little," he didn't make a move.
If he did, the fact that Mat had just jerked off, would be totally out in the open.
They sat tight, waiting for the storm to pass.
"Man, this is some storm," Mat says of the incredible sound and flashing lights.
What he was really thinking, is how he hoped the boys would not pick up on the scent of the buildup in his pants. Normally, two or three tissues could sop up the mess.
Then, Tim exclaims, "oh shit, what was that?"
Bill had a clearer picture, saying, "wasn't that a car?"
"Shit, I think you are right," Mat says, after watching a dislodged tire whiz by.
Then all hell broke loose, the prof's car being bombarded by metal. Loosening his seat belt, Mat climbs in between the seats to the back.
Right now there wasn't any 'cute' conversation about all things sexual, but rather scared to death that they wouldn't survive the storm. Mat literally became the cover over Bill and Tim's heads, feeling every window of the car break in, with the pelting of objects being thrown against it.
Tim didn't do it on purpose, but actually did feel his hand graze Mat's midsection. Even in the face of death, it made him crack a small smile, which lasted seconds and then went back to being terrified!
%
Meanwhile, ten miles away, Carl, Tom, Eric, Andris and Phil were all jam-packed into the motel bathroom, a mattress over their heads. They had heard the tornado siren blaring, taking refuge best they could. Eric couldn't believe, in their haste, the clamps on his nips weren't removed. He had a feeling of fear and wanting to come so, so bad, all at the same time!
%
Minutes later Mat was uncovering himself from protecting Bill and Tim.
"Whew, that was a close one," Matt says, gazing all around his car, ceiling, left passenger, right, and then realizes his head had been wedged in between the two frat boys' thighs.
Tim and Bill agreed. When they stepped from Mat's car, all the other cars in the lot had been blown by the wind and amassed into one giant heap. The one tree, planted in front of Mat's car, was the only one left standing.
Strange when that happens!
Outside his vehicle, Mat says, "will you look at that!"
Of the massive amount of music stands, they were piled up on the sides of Mat's car, providing somewhat of a shield, which has Bill saying, "I'll say."
It shielded them from all kinds of debris, which could have entered through that side of Mat's car and exited the other, killing the three of them.
Then they heard a cry for help.
Mat thought he recognized it, "Rio? Where are you?"
"Over here."
About ten feet away they found Rio, bare-naked and clutching his guitar.
"That was something," Rio exclaims, guitar as cover up for his pubes, "tore the shirt right off my back!"
As Bill recalls, "only, you didn't have one on, remember?"
"Oh. Right."
Tim says, "but the wind tore the pants clear off ya!"
Mat hadn't realized it, until he plucked Rio from a pile of debris, his shirt must've caught on a piece of metal and tore open.
Rather than draw attention to his own bare chest, Mat says, "I think you're guitar is okay."
Such was the destruction all around and the darkness, Mat salvaged some camping blankets from his car. From Rio's account, he had just stepped out of the pub when the sirens came blaring.
"I held onto my guitar for dear life!"
Rio showed the implications, that if he allowed the guitar to slip out of his grip, it would be a no-brainer that eyes would be stalking his bod below the belt.
Because they hung at the pub till the wee hours of the morning, daylight would begin in a couple of hours. Until then the four survivors of the wicked storm looked for shelter. Looking across the commons, the glass and metal performing arts center was still standing, but all the large glass windows were blown out. Heading to the campus pub for refuge, they found it left untouched and like the lone tree at the hood of Mat's car, it looked like an oasis, lawn and foliage a contrast for the wrecked environment all around.
%
Crosstown, at the motel, firefighters came to rescue of those stranded. One by one they were extracted from the bathroom. Last one to leave was Eric, but before he left the bathroom, a firefighter picks up a chain with two clamps attached, lying on the floor, "this belong to you?"
Eric tests, "do you even know what they are for?"
The firefighter, cocoa skinned, soft spoken, says, "I think maybe I should take you home tonight, boy."
Well, there was no home to go home to, but the fire station has a nice cozy boiler room!
%
Tim had to make sure no one was listening, looking to the left and right of the pair, hunkered down next to Bill, at the base of a secluded wall.
Mat had wandered away to seek some bottles of water.
The frat boys began to compare notes.
Bill was the one to bring up wise words of wisdom, "y'know, I've heard it said, that in the face of clear and present danger, it helps to think outside the box and get your mind off of a bad situation, which, the outcome..."
"Um," Tim taps Bill's leg, "can we dispense with the long, drawn out explanation, Einstein?"
Bill, who when he turns his head, is about six inches from Tim's chin, upon seeing the revelation, smiles and says, "what I'm getting at, we should think of something good."
So, for the past five minutes, Tim's attention has been shifting between Bill, at his side, Mat, who has abandoned them to help with the helpless and that hunky campus pastor, rushing around, making sure those who need attention, get it.
"Well, I don't know about you," Tim giggles, "but I tend to like guys kind of hairy!"
"Hmm, I never thought about it," Bill responds.
Apparently, somewhere in the shuffle of the storm people lost bits of, or whole articles of clothing. Such was one 'man of the cloth', who now wore only bits and pieces of his shirt, Brother Flint!
With a nudge to the ribs, all it took was Tim's nod to draw attention to the subject of his comment.
"Him?" Bill questions, tossing a thumb towards the campus 'religious guy'.
His lust way ahead of much thinking, Tim says, "I'd sure wish he'd lose the shirt. That parting of it down the middle, I'm sure it's not giving him full justice," he giggles.
Being a 'church guy', much of his life, but at present reluctant at late to accept doctrine that being faithful does not include the gay lifestyle, Bill forgets what he's been brought up on, "oh yeah, I see what you mean."
It's then Bill whets his lips, catching glimpses of Flint's medium brown hair, which if the shirt was fully parted, like Tim wished for, could possibly cover the whole of his chest and stomach. Oh man, was Bill's balls tingling at just the thought!
"Yeah, I think hairy guys could turn me on."
"Could turn you on, Bill?"
Bill was feeling what was evident, Tim first glancing down to the divide of Bill's legs, but then taking the liberty to use his hand to trace the bulge!
Of the hand touching his pants, "I can't believe you just did that!"
Out of courtesy, Tim withdraws his hand. He reflects back on how Carl, when at a gay club, would caress a stranger's cock and balls without any vocal contact and how a guy would 'just love it'.
And as Carl would render, Tim copy-cats, "oh come on, Bill, I know you're loving it?"
Softening his reproach, Bill says, "uh. Yeah. I guess I am."
Being daring, Bill takes Tim by the wrist and moves it over his crotch, "but, just to be sure?"
Tim would have no problem at that, but as fate has it, that brown-haired preacher boy begins heading in their direction!
"Oh shit!"
Copying Tim, Bill says, "yeah, oh shit is right!"
Flint stands there right in front of them, looking down and without further ado, "say, either of you wearing a belt?"
Both stand, Tim jumping the gun, even though Bill wears a leather belt as well, "I am."
He didn't ask pretty please for it, but rather in a dominating vocal manner, "c'mon. Take it off. I need it."
So infatuated with that massive amount of medium-brown hair in the parting of Flint's shirt, Bill goes for his belt buckle, "you can have mine too?"
"Good," Flint says, "I might need it. In the meantime..."
Standing there, each fratboy holding their belts in hands, feel like they're died and gone to heaven, Flint stripping off his ragged shirt!
"Here," Flint exchanges his shirt for the two belts, "tear this into neat strips."
As Flint walks away, Bill holds the shirt, Tim saying, "oh man, would I love to get my tongue on those nips and suck'em raw!"
That's one thing Bill had picked up on, pinkish-orange nips visible through the fabric of Flint's chest hair. Only, he was too shy to say anything. But now, with Tim's influence loosening his tongue, "me, I was thinking more of digging my tongue in his navel. Is that too weird?"
"Ha," Tim laughs a one-syllable sound, "when it comes to getting oral on a man's bod, no place is forbidden territory!"
Bill had seen it on the internet, even though a still pic and not a gif, "have you ever had your tongue in a guy's ass?"
Of his adventures with Carl and his bro, Tom, Tim was being reluctant on sharing too much with a stranger, but all this talk was driving his balls crazy, "not me, but brother did Carl a number of times."
"Your brother, Tom, he's gay?"
Tim was good for the interruption, Flint yelling across the room, "hey, how's it going with those strips?"
"Fine, fine, fine," Tim yells back.
It was so fine to see Flint turn his attention to them, flaunting that hairy bod once more, as he holds one of the two belts in hand.
It gets Tim to thinking, "I wonder if he's a giver or a taker?"
Thinking thoughts of his own, Bill says, "do you think Flint even is even gay, that he's into licking or sucking a dude?"
It wasn't sex that Tim was thinking on right now, "no, dummy, I'm talking about the belt he's holding."
"Yeah, it's mine. So?"
It made Tim smile, thinking how naturally ignorant Bill was, but also excited him, assuming the identity of a mentor, "you and me," he tears Flint's shirt, "have a lot of exploring to do."
While Bill's mind was on oral sex, Tim was thinking about the kinky stuff Carl and Tom did, not which he was a total s&m junkie, but bdsm has its place and time and only time would tell. For certain, Tim could get an erection over a guy tonguing his navel, which could be a start for him to get Bill interested in branching out.
However, silent thoughts would need to be sidetracked, Mat returning with a dude in tow.
"Hey guys, this is Kristjan. He's going to wait with you till we figure things out."
"Hi," Kristjan says, with a cordial raise of hand.
Both sat there on the floor, probably with the same thoughts in mind, Tim finally saying, "well, have a seat, why don't you?"
Tim and Bill nudge away from each other, making room for Kristjan's butt, which lands on the floor with a minimal amount of a thud.
"Thanks."
Whether the other two boys realize, rubbing elbows did make Kristjan smile.
Meanwhile, Mat said he had to go, for Tim and Bill to stay put until he returned. In a way he was sorry he made the committment to help out. Certainly, it could be his butt sitting between the two college boys. Sometimes some things were more important, even though he was wishing Flint didn't need his help.
'Oh well,' he hopped to it, hearing Flint call his name.
In a couple of minutes Tim, Bill and Kristjan had become friends.
Tim made it no secret he was checking out what lay between Kristjan's legs, Bill keeping his cool and strumming up conversation.
"So, what's your major, Kristjan?" Bill asks.
Kristjan, for his own sake, or rather that of what the elbow-nudging had started to affect him, jumps into the conversation, "when faced with that exact thing, I had changed my mind a few times, but right now I'm set on vetinary science."
Everyone had their private thoughts and for Tim, Kristjan's shirt was missing a couple of buttons, which gave him a birds eye view of his pecs, and that hair, man was it giving Tim flip-flops, wanting to reach out with his tongue and touch!
Instead, he nervously jokes, "so, you want to open your own pet shop?"
Bill, who gathered, whenever Tim was nervous, said something stupid as a coverup, scolds, "you don't need a college degree to run a pet shop," he turns to Kristjan, "so, what is it you plan on doing with your degree?"
Realizing Bill has stolen the conversation away from him, was like stealing Kristjan, which has him saying, "uh, yeah, that's what I meant."
Seeing Tim look to him, Kristjan slightly blocking his view, Bill says, "yeah, right, Tim."
"I did," Tim contests, "really I did."
Seeing a jealous attitude among the two, Kristjan takes the initiative to place Bill's right hand on his left thigh, Tim's left hand on the right and settles the dispute, "hey, there's plenty of me for both of ya's!"
He was sure he made the correct assumption, Bill and Tim gay, or else Kristjan would be up for a huge apology.
Tim follows with, "okay, but I get first dibs."
"Not," Bill says, catching Tim's hand, feeling free to slide down the inside of Kristjan's thigh.
Shocked at Bill's insinuation, Tim says, "really, bro?"
Being a little shocked himself, Bill being more of an observer than putting himself out there in the gay world, "ya think?"
Again, the 'peacemaker', Kristjan says, "oh come on guys," outing himself, "I love to suck cock and would love to have the best of both worlds, if you know what I mean?"
Bill was shocked out of his gourd to hear Tim say, "no need to get greedy, Kris. We can share." He looks over Kristjan, "ain't that right, Bill?"
In his rightful mind, Bill had all intentions of capturing Tim in the right place and moment, to explain that he pictured himself as a total top, having no taste for giving a blow job. Yet, the more he got to know Tim, that possible scenario had dwindled, thinking it not so bad, wrapping his lips around a man's tool.
"Uh, no. I mean, yeah," Bill was nervous, "I guess I wouldn't mind having two guys lick me all over."
Tim stuttered into silence, thinking over what he had just said, 'did I?' Yeah, he realizes, he had as much as said he was placing himself on himself facedown over Kristjan's parted legs and opening wide. Another thought flooded Tim's mind. With the ensuing position, it gave Tim silent thoughts, which flourished.
"Um, I think you got the wrong impression here, Bill."
The pair had taken to slumping forward and talking around Kristjan, Bill saying, "Not at all," he can't believe he's standing up for himself, something Bill caved in on for the past years of high school life, "you said as much as, you were all ready to give us blow jobs, isn't that right, Kristjan?"
"Not a problem, I assure you," Kristjan tried calming his new friends. "I like giving blow jobs. I am really good at it."
Tim, curious, shifts his attention, "really? Like, how many and who have you given a blow job to?"
"I can't believe you're putting Kristjan on the spot like that," Bill questions.
Tim differs, again pounding Bill with his thoughts, "it's like, like," he looks between Kristjan's very good looking face, the nighttime bearding coming in at twilght, and his friend Bill, "oh what the hell," he sits back.
Leaning almost all the way forward, Bill stares his friend in the chops, "what, Tim?"
Always the bold, proud one, putting himself on the 'top' pedestal, Tim caves, "so, I don't get this impulsive feeling often, but," he glimpses down at Kris' crotch, "yeah, I have this strong desire to give Kris a blow job. Happy?" he looks for Bill's reaction.
Bill felt for Tim, saying, "I'm sorry. I never meant this to be a contest, Tim."
Kristjan was getting good vibes and not only the ones deep down in his crotch. Certainly, if he had met the two on other terms, there could be a love interest, rather than jumping right in between the sheets.
%
Meanwhile, the need to have Matt at his side became history, Flint watching the music department faculty member bandage up a sore hand. One of the reasons he left the order, becoming a sanctioned priest, Flint got tired of following the rules. How many men, he didn't begin to guess, had he wanted to stand behind them, pull down their pants and work their asses over? He didn't know, but watching Matt bend over to tie his shoe, that hairy crack looked might inviting!
"Well, that about does it," Matt says, uprighting his bent over self, after hands left his knotted shoe.
Being a man about campus, Flint knew who 'was' and wasn't gay, which is why he chose to purposely seek out a private place, while everyone else rushed here and there at the pub.
Feeling both innocent and guilty, Flint says, "hey, can I show you something?"
At first, the fuzzy front is what got Matt going, but as they carried on with their duty to the injured, Matt lost track of guessing the size of Flint's crotch. He was tired, but also edgy, "sure."
Lying through his teeth, probably a terrible and deliberate thing to do, taking advantage of a weary worker, Flint leads Matt to a door.
"What's up?"
Flint silently thought, 'if you only knew', but rationalized, "I think I heard some moaning from back here," he opens the door.
Matt smiles, hoping it wasn't from anyone's injuries!
Opening in on the door Flint cordially holds it for Matt to walk through.
"Thanks," Matt says.
Door closed, Flint grabs hold of Matt's arm, "oh, you can thank me later!"
There was no planned scenario, but the way Flint always went about it was tasting a man's lips first.
"Oh my!" Matt says, after their lips part. "Really, reverend?"
They had already covered those bases, during the rescue operation, creating small talk. Flint had told why he left a very good position in a cathedral, for campus lifestyle and Matt, much the same, a professional musician, destined for greatness on the stage, abandoning that goal, to instruct incoming college instrumentalists.
Reading the situation like a porn novel, Matt's ankles grow weak, sinking down, taking Flint's shorts with him as he jokes, "y'know, in music school my best instrument was the clarinet? Yeah, "he lusts form the hairy shaft more than the woodwind, "I could really make that reed vibrate!"
"Oh then," Flint orchestrates the beginnings of the blow job, "I'm counting on a sweet symphony!"
In no time Matt had Flint's back thrown up against the door, hands pinned behind his head, hips jutting forward, marvelling at the way Matt fluttered his lips and tongue!
%
The trio, seeing the atmosphere lighten up, had taken to leaving the pub. They had wondered what became of Matt, but was more interested in finding a more suitable place to crash, than the cold marbled floor of a pub.
As he sat between the two, Kristjan walked, separating Bill and Tim, "y'know, I was having a hard time fitting in here, so I'm glad I met you guys."
Having already shared some history, Tim sarcastically says, "it's been like, two days, Kris?"
It made Kristjan smile, thinking there's not much he could put over on Tim, "uh, yeah. Right. Just seems like it's been more than a week."
Bill, more cordial, "doesn't matter. I'm really glad I met you Kristjan."
"I'm not saying I'm not glad I met Kris, Bill?"
There it was, Kristjan picking up something which happened minutes ago. Was it jealousy, or something else, "can we just get along?"
He had self-appointed himself as mediator, Kristjan's back to Bill's front, chest towards Tim and held his stand.
"Yeah. Sure," Tim says. Looking over Kristjan's shoulder, "sorry Bill. I didn't mean anything by it."
Tim was aware he was having these feelings and was sorry Carl was not there to talk it out.
"Apology accepted," Bill shrugs it off.
The trio, walking down the main campus center had to walk around fallen trees, overturned garbage bins and several items not particular to campus grounds, like a row of washing machines from the basement of one of the laundry rooms.
Kristjan breaks the icy air, reaching down, pulling open the door of a machine and extracting a sexy pair of briefs, reading the white stretchy band, "DADDY?"
Original thoughts of being the alpha counterpart of the three friends, Tim relinquishes his throne, "why don't you stuff it in your pocket, Bill? Y'know, see if they fit later?"
Bill did have thoughts of someday meeting Mr. Right, shacking up, having some kids and being a 'daddy', but at the age of nineteen, "not rushing things, okay?"
"No problem," Tim accepts it, stuffing the yellow 'banana' looking brief in a pocket and continues walking with the two.
It was like an ache in Tim's pocket, smiling because he wondered if Kris' hardened shaft would be aching for room, that maybe he would take a larger size?
Passing by a building, watches himself lag behind, but probably for a reason unknown, when a man comes out of a doorway, pleading, "can you give me a hand?"
"Sure," Tim says, not really studying the dude, who appears to have had his shirt ripped from his bod.
"Thank god you are here," he says.
Mild, dark skin, Tim gets the impression of him being Italian, after a holiday in the sun, but losing his footing, gets more of a closeup look.
"Oh," the barechested man says, doing a pushup, "I'm so sorry."
Well, for certain, Tim would have preferred a different circumstance, having a tall, dark and very hairy man lying on top of him, "not a problem."
Halfway into his pushup, the dude says, "I made my way out of the basement where I spent the storm."
Tim didn't know which building the basement was in and didn't care!
"So, you're okay?"
"A bit tired. That's all."
But that was not all, pinned to Tim, his crotch was feeling a-stirring, which he knew what it meant, just embarrased to say so!
Not oblivious, Tim, seeing the guy not seriously hurt, jokes, "well, it certainly feels like you're okay?"
He lost his shirt, but not his pants and rising up to a standing position, informs Tim, with a smile, "I am more than okay." Reaching out, "need a hand?"
Whether it was Tim on the rebound, more force needed than necessary to stand, or the hairy stranger, they came within inches of kissing distance.
Bill and Kristjan, realizing Tim wasn't behind them, had doubled back.
"Who's this?" Bill says.
He was still attached to the tanned hand, Tim saying, "I don't know."
It was then that introductions were in order, "Nahir Hathaway," he says.
It's something Tim was trying to guess, European, Arabic, but sincerely, he looked like any other American, with a surf tan, "I'm Tim. Nice to meet you."
Sensing something weird, Bill and Kristjan look at eat other and smile.
They did finally part hands, but walked as buddies, behind Bill and Kristjan.
%
As for the pair in the wine closet, Flint had taken the upper hand, making Matt strip his pants and doubled him over a barrel that had fallen on its side.
% THe EnD!
% Copyright 2022 T. Chase McPhee
Developing segments of 'SiLeNTLy PoPuLAR' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the author.