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From: "T. Chase McPhee" <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: "The Tidelight Zone" 07 (M/M oral anal)
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===================

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" 07 (M/M oral anal)
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

As the sun peeked up over the ocean breakers, morning
began to turn to its normal mode, on the island. For
some, the island holiday paced itself with a countdown
towards the end of rest and relaxation. For Elton,
Marc, Anthony and Mehmet, their escapades would be
coming to a halt within two days time. 

And where have you been young man?

Sleeping, father.

The nineteen year old could tell he was in deep shit.
Part of the proof came, when his father walked over to
him.

Liar!

Mehmet nearly fell over from the back hand across his
face. From the long talk he had with Joaquin, which
bolstered his confidence, Mehmet stood right back up,
as if a retracting bowling pin, getting back in
formation.

I called your room twice this morning. Elton told me
he hadnt seen you since two oclock. Now, cut the
malarkey and tell me this instant, young man, where
you have been?

Already Mehmet could see his father losing control,
undoing his belt buckle. Instead of thinking about
giving in, confessing his unorthodox lifestyle, in his
fathers eyes, he began to take on a notch of
confidence.

I dont have to answer to you.

Watch that tone of voice, Mehmet. Im warning you.

I have taken enough warnings from you father. I am
nineteen... almost twenty years old. I am a man. I
have a right to choose how I want to live.

The leather belt began to slither through the belt
loops of his fathers pants.

As long as I am supporting you, Mehmet, you will do
as I tell you.

Maybe its time that I started to carve out a life of
my own, father.

You? On your own? His father giggled. Your mother
and I have cared for you since your birth. What do you
know about what you want, Mehmet?

I know that Im a gay man. I will not find peace
until I am living the life of a gay man!

Its the exact opposite glib Mehmets father wanted to
hear out of his sons lips. In the past, a good
licking of the leather belt across the boys flesh
seemed to take all feelings, all emotions of the gay
lifestyle from his sons mind. 

The shirt. Take it off.

No.

Mehmet, Ill caution you only once more. The shirt!

Standing there, letting his fathers dictating lines
go over his head, the defiant teen stood his ground.
Even though he had a shirt on, the belt, winding
around his waist, caused him much pain. However,
Mehmet had already programmed his mind that this would
be the last act of punishment his father dealt out to
him. 

>From the first lash, Mehmet had fallen to the floor,
crunching himself up into a little ball. The second
lash of his fathers belt cracked over his shoulders.

Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk! Mehmet called out.

As his father launched the belt a third time, the door
swung open.

Who the hell are you? Mehmets father said of the
uniformed man standing in the doorframe.

Your sons lover!

Looking up, from his hunched over position on the
floor, Mehmet emitted, Joaquin?

Good thing I followed you. Cmon, Mehmet. Im taking
you away from this monster!

The nerve. Are you as insuboordinate with your
superiors?

Totally ignoring Mehmets father, Joaquin reached for
the nineteen year olds arm, helping him up. Its then
that Mehmets father made a dreadful error, on his
part.

Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkshit! What tha fuck? Joaquin called
out as the leather belt struck the back of his hand.

Mehmet wound up saving his father from getting choked
to death, in Joaquins death grip.

No, Joaquin... Stop... this is not the way to handle
this. You be just as bad as my father.

The death grip around Mehmets fathers throat, pinned
to the wall, loosened. Belt dropping from his hands,
Mehmets father dropped to his ass, sitting there,
trying to recuperate from the loss of oxygen. Picking
up the belt, Joaquin tore open the sliding glass door
and tossed it over the balcony. Hours later, the pool
company would wonder how a mens leather belt got
tangled up in the filtering system!

Cmon, Ill help you get your things, Mehmet. If
youre smart, youll stay down, pops!

Mehmets father played it smart. With two suitcases
packed, Joaquin held one, opening the door. 

Where are you going Mehmet?

In from her morning jog, Mehmets mother stood, her
keycard all ready to swipe the lock.

Mother... I... have to go.

She looked not at Mehmet, but the latino that held the
second suitcase.

This is Joaquin, mother. He is my lover. I am leaving
to stay with him.

Leaving? But Mehmet.

Setting down the suitcase he  held, Mehmet embraced
his mom.

Does your father have anything to do with this?

Joaquin stepped from hiding Mehmets father, still
sitting on his ass, against the wall. Mrs. DuValier
really didnt have to ask, nor guess why Mehmet was
leaving. However, when she saw the crumbled up look on
her husbands face, it told all. For now, she could see
the only recourse for her son.

Where will you go?

Im going to stay with Joaquin.

Mrs. DuValier approached Joaquin. Not at all like
Mehmets father, distant from the homophobic view,
mainly because of her talks with Eltons mom. 

The woman, still crude in her gender education, asks,
Are you gay?

Yes, maam, Joaquin answered, the pitch of his voice
much more subdued, understanding.

How long have you known my son?

We met a few hours ago.

I see.

Very different from Mehmets father, Joaquin could see
the genuine concern the mother had for her son, in her
eyes, plus the way she conducted the gentle
interrogation.

He tried to make the transition for her as soft as
possible, telling her, Maam, I like Mehmet very
much. Its only been a few hours Ive known him, but
Im hoping with time, we can both develop some strong
bonds.

Mother, Mehmet adds, I like Joaquin. I want to be
with him. I cannot live forever with you and father. I
have to find my own way.

Tears came to his mothers eyes. She returned to
Mehmet, hugging him.

We have two more days here. You will call and tell me
where you are staying, Mehmet, please?

I will mother.

Joaquin offers, You can come and visit us before you
leave, Mrs. DuValier.

Id like that, thank you.

We better be going. I have to get to the hospital.

Hospital? Whats wrong.

Mother, Joaquin works at the army hospital.

Before leaving, toting the two suitcases, Mehmets
mother took out her wallet and offered her son the
rest of the spending money for their vacation, five
hundred dollars. He took two hundred. Taking off in
his 4x4, the two headed for Joaquins condominium. 

Having been there once already, Mehmet already knew
that Joaquin shared the spacious condo with Phil
Barrduc, whom paired off with Sean Nash, at the
hospital. When they walked in, Phil asked to talk with
Joaquin.

There wasnt much to say. Joaquin could already see
that Sean was making himself at home. Not much new
could be conjured up, Phil seeing Mehmet walk in,
Joaquin toting one of his suitcases. 

Both boys, on pins and needles, yet confident things
would come out rosy, lightened up when both
house-mates okd the clearance for both teens to move
in.

I think we should celebrate, but later. Im already a
half hour late.

It was good news to Phils ears. His car was in the
shop and it saved him taxi fare. Wishing the boys a
good day, the two jarheads lit out in Joaquins 4x4,
telling them theyd be back around four.

Cmon Mehmet, lets see whats in the fridge! Sean
said, making a beeline for the kitchen.

Not knowing where it is, Mehmet called out, Wait up,
Sean.

When the two young men opened the fridge, they looked
high and low. 

Sean asks, Want to split an olive?

I have idea.

Turning his head to the right, he waited for it to pop
from Mehmets lips.

Shoot, he replied.

My mother gave me some money. We can go buy some!

Liking the idea, rather than starving from the lack of
essentials, nor caring to sort through the ten or so
Chinese food containers, nor the uncovered, dried out
pizza, the two decided to set on their own, for their
first food shopping trip.

Exiting the Koolani unit, Mehmet and Sean boarded an
elevator.

I just thought of something, Mehmet.

Whats that, Sean?

No wheels.

Wheels? Mehmet made a looping motion in the air.

Yeah. Auto... car... jeep... SUV... something.
Anything to drive.

How about taxi?

Throwing his hands up, Sean replied, I suppose thats
something!

Mehmet smiled. Sean was a funny guy.

Stepping from the elevator, into the main lobby, the
two headed for the door. Sean, the spokesman for the
two asks the doorman, Say, how do we get a taxi?

What unit? The doorman asked.

Poking Mehmet in the ribs, Sean asks, What unit?

Mehmet shrugged his shoulders.

The doorman, whom looked to be no more than
thirty-five, burst out laughing. Mehmet and Sean
looked at him, as if he had two heads.

Forgive me gentlemen, but I know for a fact that you
couldnt have made your way in without being attached
to someone living here.

The guy got that right, Sean thought for a few
secs. A quick recall had him thinking about his ass
attached to Phils cock last night.

Were staying with Phil Baraduc, Sean told him.

Mehmet put in the name of his companion, ...And
Joaquin Alejandro Fernandez, giving the full
recognition.

Lucky gentlemen. That would put you in penthouse
number eleven.

Yeah, its up there, Sean responded.

Sure is, the doorman giggled. Best damn penthouse
in all of Koolani.

Wait, say that again, please? Mehmet asked.

What?

Sean spoke for him, saying, Koo-whatever.

Koolani?

Thats it. Kind of fancy place, Id say.

Fancy, you say? I suspect that Misters Baraduc and
Fernandez didnt fill you in on the real estate
values?

The what? Sean asked, not understanding.

However, Mehmet comprehended, saying, I think we are
staying at expensive place.

You think? Sean asked, now turning his attention
towards his friend.

So, where is it that you young men are headed? 

Shopping.

Very well.

Hey, wheres he going? Sean asked.

I dont know, Mehmet replied.

Kinda rude of the dude.

In seconds, the doorman came back.

Your limosine will be arriving in seven minutes.
Would you care to wait in the lounge, sirs?

Sirs? Sean questioned. Were college jocks. Im
Sean Nash and this here is Mehmet.

Mehmet, realizing he never told Sean his last name,
shook the doormans hand, saying, Mehmet DuValier.

Not one of thee DuValiers?

Mehmet shrugged his shoulders. The only two DuValiers
he knew had been his father and mother.

I dont think were related, Mehmet informed him,
not knowing whom he even referred to.

However, Sean wasnt letting this slide. 

Who you talking about, um....

Jerrys the name. Anytime you need anything, you pick
up the phone and ask for me.

Cool! Sean replied.

Mehmet, wanting badly to fit into any scene,
mimiced, Cool!

It didnt come across as natural as Seans endeavor,
but it was cool!

As for the DuValiers... well, the plural no longer
applies, since the parents passing. Regis DuValier.
Penthouse number ten, which would put him in your
neighborhood and your age bracket.

Jerry chuckled for the umpteenth time.

Cool!

Oh, theres Mr. DuValier now.

Mehmet and Sean swung around, looking in the direction
Jerry faced.

Where? Sean asked, seeing no one distinguished.

Just a moment. Ill introduce you two.

Watching Jerry walk away, the two saw him approach a
highly unlikely candidate, matching a distinguished,
French gentleman. 

What a fuckin hottie! Sean said out loud.

Agreeing, Mehmet tried to be natural replying in the
same manner, He is sure a fuckin hottie!

The two could tell that the guy was giving Jerry a
hard time, until he pushed his sunglasses down,
looking over the top, at the two, standing on the
other side of the lobby door. Neither knew whom Regis
talked about, but Sean made out Regis lips, saying,
Fuckin hot!

Hes coming over. How do I look?

You look fine, Sean. How do you know hes coming
over?

I just know. Let me do all the talking. We dont want
to blow this.

But... Mehmet could guess why Sean wanted to do all
the talking. 

He didnt figure himself out as much the cool dude
that Sean could be. Even Phil could be cool. Then,
his mind began wandering away from the cool dudes. He
thought about Joaquin. He wasnt at all like the other
two. True, he could fake a cool attitude when around
Phil and Sean, but when the two had been alone, he was
more down-to-earth.

The closer Regis DuValier came, the more Seans cock
twitched. He immediately picked up on the good looks,
the hot looking bod, lusting to see what was hidden
underneath the threads.

Gentlemen, Mr. Regis DuValier of penthouse suite
number ten, meet Misters Sean.. 

Jerry had a memory lapse for last names.

Hi! Im Sean Nash and this is Mehmet.. um, DuValier.

Jerry was telling me. How wonderful to meet you.

A bit on the fem side, Seans testoronic rate still 
measured him right up there around the perfect ten
mark. However, Regis rating began to drop, as he
sideswiped the nineteen year old, light brown-haired
jock.

Mehmet, is it? Where are you from?

Originally Egypt. My father is part French and part
Egyptian. My mother is French.

How interesting, Regis spoke rather flamboyantly.
So, where is it that you are headed today?

Grocery shopping, Mehmet let on.

Grocery? Regis looked kind of queerly at the two.
Then, turning to Jerry, he more less dictates the
order, Handle it Jerry.

Yes, Mr. DuValier, sir.

But, he doesnt know what to buy, Mehmet relayed.

Do you have a list?

Mehmet smiled, saying, Yes. Here, he pointed to his
forehead.

Again, Regis snipped, Pen... paper, Jerry.

Right away, sir.

>From his pocket, Jerry whipped a paper and pen.

Jot down whatever you would like.

It might take some time, Mehmet replied.

By this time Sean began to get bored. Looking around
the lobby, he spotted something very interesting.
Wandering away from the little group of grocery list
writers, he mosied on over to a ladder, with a man
atop it. 

Oh shit! Came the first words out of the guys
mouth. Looking down, he realized a resident stood,
looking up. Hey, sorry about that.

Sean, looking up, not only up-up, but up the guys
gray shirt, replied, What the fuck!

Shrugging his shoulders, the guys face lit up with a
bright smile. He began descending the ladder.

Last time I cursed in front of a resident, it went on
my record.

What are you trying to do?

Hopping off the last step, the guy said, I thought it
might be the bulb, but the whole unit needs
replacing. Then, wiping his hand on his shirt, he
offered his hand, saying, Im Kip Sholten, by the
way.

Sean Nash. Cool to meet you.

Same here. Cool. I havent seen you around here
before.

Only moved in yesterday.

Oh? Which unit, if Im not being too nosy?

Not at all. Penthouse, number eleven.

Whooaaaaa, Kip replied, taking his baseball cap off,
then replacing it back on his head, whistling.

The number impressed Kip, but didnt mean anything to
Sean.

Why is it that people do that, Kip?

Do what?

Act like its a big deal?

Well, no disrespect intended, Mr. Nash, but youve
gotta have a big bankroll to live in one of those
penthouses.

Sean and Mehmet already knew that, figuring Joaquin
and Phil must have to pool about $1500 a month, to
rent the condo.

Were actually staying with two guys.

I know who you mean. But whos the we?

My friend over ther, Mehmet.

Kip glances over toward the three, Mehmet busily
writing.

Oh, next to that freak, DuValier.

My friends not a freak! Sean defended, before
realizing he mustve meant the other DuValier.

Too late, Kip thought he was in deep shit, opening his
big mouth.

Hey, look. I didnt mean anything about your friend
there. Its just that...

Sean starts laughing his ass off. Kip then keys his
attention in to the nineteen year old. For the first
time he has a chance to really study him up close. 

Sorry, Kip.

No, Im the one who should be apologizing.

You already did, but its okay.

It is? You know your friends a jerk?

Kip, my friends name is Mehmet DuValier. Hes the
darker skinned guy over there with Jerry.

Whew! You had me going there for awhile, Sean.

Sean could see that. Kip seemed to get all clammy,
sweaty, plus Sean already noticed the bulge in his
pants, his hand in his pocket, trying to push it to
the side.

I know.

Know what?

I got you going?

Looking down, Seans glance could tell more than words
could say, at the moment.

Yeah, um... well... Kip stuttered.

Making sure no one was in earshot, Sean told Kip, If
I wasnt headed out with my friend, Id take care of
that for ya!

Um, youre gay?

No more or less than you are!

Cool! Kip exclaimed.

What time you get off?

I get that a lot around here.

Oh, sorry, Sean giggled. But I mean it.

Tell you the truth, I havent made it with a guy in
awhile. Could use the relaxation.

Oh? No chance of that when youre in bed with me!

I get off around two, but I got a class.

Class?

Yeah. At the community college. Five minutes up the
road. Off of Dillingham.

Im not from the area.

Where from?

Sean didnt want to say the hole-in-the-wall room
his mother rented by the month, so alluded to,
Waikiki.

Up there in the big bucks.

Yeah, well, Sean brushed it off, changing the
subject to, What do you study?

Art.

Art?

Yeah. I just change light bulbs to pick up extra
money. With a quick glance over to the other side of
the lobby, then back to his conversation with Sean,
Kips alerts, Oh, your friend is trying to get your
attention.

Okay. Hey, will I see you again, Kip?

Im counting on it, He returned, with a smile.

Cool, Sean responsed.

Before Sean left Kips presence, he warned, Stay away
from DuValier.

Why? Whats wrong with him. He looks harmless.

Hes into that bdsm shit!

Into what?

Bondage, Discipline, Sadism and Masochism. You know,
getting pleasure out of hurting guys?

I think Ive heard of it. What do they call it
again?

Bds&m. Take my word for it. He tried to get me
interested. Hell do the same with you and your
friend.

Yeah, thanks. Ill let Mehmet know.

See you around, Sean. Kip thought he said it to
himself, I gotta hit the jon and take care of this!

Sean laughed, yelling back over his shoulder, Yeah,
me too!

%

7 Continued.

© 2006  T. Chase McPhee 
This story may not be sold or made part of any
collection without prior written permission.


The more you stretch, the more you can fit in...
'spread' happiness!






The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness!
TCMcP.....visit my 'Bellyholes Gallery' at www.kinkygayposts.com

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