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Thread: Out of The Mist

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    Out of The Mist

    (This is NOT "Public Domain", and may not be copied/republished, in any form, without the author's expressed, written, permission.)

    Chapter One of ? ...

    “Get in here!”, shushed through the fog, as my right wrist was firmly grabbed, and tugged. I stubbed my toe while stumbling.



    “Huh? Ouch!”


    “Ssssshhh!”


    It had only been maybe 20 minutes ago that I'd woken up on the boat. I'd laid down for a brief nap after working a long summer day on Captain Rob's charter. He'd left me to swab down the deck, and put stuff away, after he'd filleted the fishing party's catch, and bid them farewell. Thankfully, the four middle aged guys had added a nice tip for me when they paid Capt. Rob for their successful trip. That was around 5pm.


    Getting everything shipshape, for the next day, took a little more than an hour, or so. When I first started this job that took me at least twice as long. Capt. Rob had been patient in his training,. It was only a few weeks until I'd gotten good at it, and he'd become confident enough to leave me on my own to do it to his exacting specifications.


    Normally, I would have gone to “Mother's” to treat myself to a nice dinner, and see who was out and about, before going “home” to Mrs. Neumann's boarding house. However, I'd felt more like stretching out on the cockpit couch, on the port side of the 46' cabin cruiser, under the fly bridge. I'd kicked off my boat shoes, and lay down for just a few minutes.


    I woke up to SILENCE! No creaking dock lines. No lapping water. NOTHING! It took me a few groggy moments to realize where I was, and that night had fallen. I swung my feet to the deck as I sat up, ruffling my hair with both hands, as I tried to clear my mind.


    I looked out over the open stern, and to starboard. The harbor's surface was strangely glassy smooth. It had chilled a bit when the sun had set. The tendrils of mist, rising into the full moon light, told me that the air was cooler than the water. About 4 feet off the surface everything was perfectly clear. There wasn't even a slight breeze. I was momentarily transfixed by the ghostly beauty.


    What time was it? How long had I been dozing? Why was it so QUIET?


    There weren't even any sounds from town. That meant it had to be fairly late. Most shops in this little New England tourist trap closed at 10pm, with the bars, and some restaurants, staying open until 1am. However, with the recent “troubles”, the City Council, a majority of which were also members of The Chamber of Commerce, had gotten everyone to agree to shut down by 11pm on full moon/new moon nights.


    Though that seemed contrary to robust business, even the bar owners realized it would be much worse if any of their precious tourists disappeared while vacationing, and word of “the troubles” gained further broadcast. It was far better to subdue the possibilities of negative publicity than to have all of the tremendously profitable summer trade dry up entirely. Therefore, without it being officially declared, a pseudo curfew, of sorts, had been agreed upon, on “those” nights.


    The first one that went missing, without a trace, was an eighteen year old named Talon Mason. And, yeah, that was his real name, not a nickname. He was a “local”. Both of his parents were teachers, and yearlong residents. Talon was set to graduate from High School in June. He disappeared during the March full moon while walking home after studying at a friend's place. At least that what he had told his parents that he was doing.


    There were some “hints” around town that he, and Gabe Collins, were maybe more than just “study buddies”. Both were on the wrestling team, very fit guys, and it had been noted that they spent more time with each other than they did with anyone else.


    Just like any other small town, everyone knew everyone else's business, and except for a few gossips, most kept it to themselves. Even so, had there been “something more” going on with those two, around here it still didn't matter much.


    This old seaside village has a reputation of being one of the country's “Gay Meccas”. It's location has attracted an almost overwhelming summer population of artists, potters, playwrights, jewelers, and all sorts of other craftsmen cashing in on the summer trade. I'm not saying any of that is “Gay” per se, it's just that the place became known as being tolerant of just about any, and every, one.


    I don't know when the town was actually founded, but I do know it dates back to the earliest of Colonial times. It was a small working fishing port long before it became today's mainly tourist destination. It has seen it's up and down times. It's nearby sand dunes, and extensive beaches, are what has sustained its survival all the way up to these modern times. It's “Gay Reputation” is FAR surpassed by its Family Friendly Summer FUN attractiveness, not to mention it's picturesque Historical atmosphere.


    The next to disappear was Mike Taylor during the early April new moon. He was in his mid 30's, managed the local hardware store, and lived with his “house mate”, Carl Heathers. Carl had kept dinner on “warm” waiting for Mike to get home after closing the store. When dinner had approached “too well done”, Carl had turned it off, and eventually dinner become cold. Mike was never seen again. Carl was found Cold, of an apparent suicide, just one week later.


    April full moon brought about the vanishing of Amy Gates. She, and her “known partner”, Marsha Wells, successful owners of one of the art galleries, had arrived just the day before, to begin setting up inventory, etc. Granted, that was a bit early for most seasonal shop owners, but those two considered that time a “working vacation”, being able to take it slow and easy, after closing their other location in the Florida Keys.


    Since they hadn't had time to fully stock groceries, and stuff, Amy had headed off to “Mother's”, which was open year round, to pick up dinner to go. She was the last customer right at closing time. Marsha never did eat anything that night.


    By this time, the small local police department saw a pattern emerging with full moon/new moon. And, sure enough, May new moon was the last they saw of their own officer, Hunter Winter.


    Hunter had joined the department, as a locally raised former Marine MP, two years ago. Though he had been stationed in several posts around the world, Home was where his heart truly was. His family owned one of the oldest hotels, where they also lived, right across from the town square. However, Hunter, and his “buddy”, Brian Taylor, from Kansas, had bought a good sized house out in the dunes.


    Hunter had turned over his squad car keys to his fellow officer, Carey Evans, jumped in his Jeep, and headed on out. His Jeep was found the next day, with the keys still in the ignition, on the bluffs at “Break Point”, several miles in the opposite direction of his and Brian's place.
    Hunter was never seen again. Nor was he the last to “Evaporate”.


    The local newspaper had reported the mysterious vanishings, but being of limited circulation, especially during “off season”, the stories had not gained much attention beyond the general area, which, come to think about it, was rather amazing in, and of, itself. However, that was also somewhat of a boon to The Chamber of Commerce/City Council which valued, perhaps one might say “Greedily”, it's own interests, as harsh as that may sound. They managed to keep it all mostly “under wraps”.


    The local journalists had been coerced, some say with Lots of bucks, to stop reporting such things, even though the pattern continued, and is still continuing. Luckily, if you think of it that way, the ones that were “taken” later, even as “The Season” began, were also locals, or workers, and not any of the freely spending tourists.


    Most of those who were the prime components of “The Money Machine” had NO idea of what had been happening around here. And, though the early closing hours, on what they thought were “odd” nights, had some of them wondering, the overall financial windfall was kept throbbing.


    Did I mention that those soft, fragile, silvery, mists that I was fascinated with, rising off the becalmed water, were illuminated by the full moon? It suddenly stuck me that I might be in danger!


    I'd made it up to, and along, the dock, through the mostly empty (huge) central town parking lot (which was usually full of cars), and turned left along (the very aptly named) Commerce Street. A block later I was passing “The Crown and Anchor Hotel” (Hunter's family place) to my left, and Town Hall Square to my right.


    The mist, also rising from the ground, was quickly becoming fog. Though the air was chilly, the cobble stones under my bare feet were still warmish. Yeah, in my haste to get moving, I'd left my shoes on the boat.


    I'd thought of staying on the boat for the night, but given the chill, I'd decided to chance the dash for my warm bed at Mrs. Neumann's. And, perhaps it was a good thing that I'd left my shoes on board. I wasn't exactly running, but I was walking quickly, and the cobble stones were a bit slick with moisture. Without my shoes, I was able to move more stealthily, being able to “grab” the slippery stones with my toes and soles, silently padding through the thickening cloud around me.


    Though some might call Commerce Street the main drag, there was no way anyone could race along it, at least not in a car. It was a one way, very narrow, Colonial path. Driving down it, especially when the crowds were out, amounted to very carefully letting pedestrians move out or your way in the (perhaps) four feet of space, on either side, between your car doors and the doors of the close set shops lining both sides. Sidewalks, except in front of Town Hall Square, were nonexistent.


    A block later, I passed the blacksmith shop, and turned right between it and “The Atlantic House”, which was a big gay bar, and hotel, also known as “The A House”, into what was a walkway/alley that ended in a stairway up to First Street. As I made my way to those stairs, at the back of the blacksmith’s …


    “Get in here!”
    Last edited by Kyanimal; August 17th, 2014 at 12:54 AM.
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Great start Chaz - you have got us guessing and eager for more of this mystery tale!



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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Love the beginning Chaz. You have me wondering what is happening and where this story is headed.
    I can now not only look for your story comments on others but can look forward to
    more chapters "we hope" from your story.

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Eerie and intriguing, Chaz. As I know the fog well, there are areas that you may not want to explore. "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!" Please continue with the tale......

    Craiger

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Thank You, Guys, for your comments and encouragement! Please forgive my errant proofreader (Me) for the things he's missed.

    Chapter 02 of ? …

    When people find out I work in a blacksmith shop they usually get a “Huh?” look on their face or go, “Aw! That's interesting.”, thinking they already know what it's about. Both of those reactions are wrong.

    This building originally was a blacksmith shop, and then something else, and something else after that, etc., etc., until Dan, a real (modern) blacksmith, bought it under the condition that he would convert it back to it's historic use, sort of.

    Yes, there is a real forge, and bellows, at the back of the big open front area, with it's high timber beamed roof, barn wood walls, and planked floor. The place had to be gutted in order to restore it. Most of the wood is far newer than it looks.

    To complete the picture, we all work in period attire. Dan, and his son Tim, wear their leather-look Kevlar bib aprons, pants, and steel toed “hob nail” boots. Frank, and I, sport loose fitting “henley” style linen shirts, with matching breeches, and rope for a belt. We're also encouraged to loose the shirts, when it's warm enough, to “impress” the gals and guys.

    Dan, and Tim, work the forge, making lots of banging noises while working molten metal into touristy chachkas, and stuff. Frank, and I, deal with the walk-in traffic, telling them stories, and giving them little tours, in the hopes of selling them a nautically themed weather vain, or the like, to hang on their wall back home.

    The vast majority of our inventory was made during the off season, but sometimes we'll sell something that they've watched taking shape on the anvil. We'll take custom orders, too, which can be quite interesting at times. I've never known Dan to turn down a request no matter how “weird” it might be. I'll leave those to your imagination.

    I'm the manager, and though Dan is the owner, he gives me free reign. He'd much rather just make his hammer sing than deal with all the hassles of running the business. And, it's a mighty successful business at that. With orders from the ship yard up the coast, architects, and other businesses, and “regular” folks, we're kept busy enough to be year round residents. Who would think that blacksmithing would still be in demand today?

    In fact, I live on the premises. My modern quarters are behind the overall facade which includes a little Colonial room, complete with a dutch door that leads to the alley/walkway between us and “The A House”. During the day we'll leave the top of the dutch door open so passersby can peek into what looks like a common room from those times. It tends to tweak their curiosity, and encourages them to check us out. It's just another little part of our marketing plan.

    I'd tracked our walk-in sales to begin around 10am, build throughout the afternoon, begin to taper off around dinner time, and peter out by 10pm. I'd thought of closing earlier, but during “The Season” every buck counts. So, at 10pm I'd roll the front double barn doors closed, no matter what the moon phase was, as disturbing as that current requirement was.

    I'd also been a part in bringing that agreement about. Dan was also aware of the “why”, but I was the one attending the meetings, and knew more of the horrid details than he did. That's why I made sure that he, and Tim, and Frank, left in plenty of time to get to their respective homes on “those” nights.

    Maybe it was because I knew it was a full moon, or maybe I was stressed over some other business stuff, or maybe I was wondering why I was still single at 26, or … well … who knows? In any case, I couldn't manage to get to sleep. Something was nagging me. I had a “feeling”.

    I rolled out of bed, pulled on my comfy linen breeches, tied my rope belt, and went to check outside. On my way through the little Colonial room, I lit the oil lamp on the table, and turned on the gas flame in the fireplace since there was a bit of a chill.

    I was soon leaning on the door frame, one bare foot on the threshold, the other on the ally/walkway cobblestones, my arms wrapped around my chest, and just staring into the fog, enjoying the coolness, the odd quiet, and beauty of the night. Come to think about it, I really shouldn't have been out there.

    Was that someone coming toward me? Should I duck back inside? There shouldn't be Anyone out here, including me! I tensed up, but didn't move.

    As the figure drew closer, I could see that he was hurrying toward the stairs to First Street. That gave me a clue that he thought he might feel that he was maybe in danger, too. I decided he wasn't a likely threat, even though I couldn't tell who the heck he was. And, since he hadn't paused as he silently approached, I was pretty sure he hadn't seen me, and didn't know that I was there.

    Why was I thinking “He”? Was it the gait? Was it the general slim shape? Was it a wish?

    As “he” passed, I instinctively reached out and grabbed “his” wrist.

    “Get in here!”, I shushed.
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    OMG! I love this, Chaz. . . I hope that there is more to come! Thanks for sharing your literary talents with us. . .
    I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask them where they're going and hook up with them later."
    -- Mitch Hedberg

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    This could be exciting....two young men, frightened by the fog and full moon, both searching for safety..... Well, you know odd things can happen during such times.... At least I hope so. Thanks, Chaz, anticipating more very soon.

    Craiger

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Love the nostalgia - I recall watching the blackmith at work as a kid - sad to say the old forge is now an office. But I digress, this tale is so full of intrigue, can't wait for more!



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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Hey, Buds!

    THANK YOU! I can only hope that I might be able to live up to your expectations.

    Chapter 03 of ? …

    I'd been grabbed, thrown off balance, stumbled, and then nearly tripped, as I was tugged over a wooden threshold. Everything went totally dark as the figure beside me pivoted to close, and latch, the door behind us. I was feeling a bit baffled, and, yes, a little scared. I just stood there as though my feet were glued to the plank flooring. He was still holding my wrist.

    I guess what amounted to a blackout curtain was swept aside, and my vision returned to flickering firelight. I felt as though I was stepping back in time as I was led into a Colonial era room that I was familiar with. I hadn't been in it before, but I had seen into it many times.

    “What were you doing out there? Are you crazy?”, he said rather sternly as he turned to face me.

    I found myself standing toe-to-toe with, and staring up into the green eyes of, David Benicek. He had a look of concern on his handsome face, under those curly black locks of his. He reminded me of the actor Adrian Grenier. I felt my knees buckle slightly, for several reasons.

    He must have felt that, because he placed his other hand on my shoulder, and maneuvered me to sit in one of the two chairs at the small table. That brought my line of sight directly in line with his navel, surrounded by tanned abs, and I couldn't help but let my glance travel down his dark treasure trail to a little showing of his pubes peaking out over his rope belt. I looked back up over his rounded pecs, into those green eyes looking down at me, and I think my mouth just fell open. Hopefully I wasn't drooling, too.

    “Ollie! Are you all right?”, he soothingly asked, in his silky baritone, as he was now gently holding both my shoulders.

    I wasn't sure if I could speak! Was this really happening to Me?


    Dave:

    The wraith that I'd snagged out of the fog turned out to be Ollie (Oliver) VanHengst. His mid-length blond hair was all ruffled, and his blue eyes seemed to be a little out of focus, as he stared up at me from the chair I'd sat him in. He had one of the cutest faces I'd ever seen. His features made him look younger than his 21 years. Now he was looking a bit stunned. Why had he been out there on “this” night?

    We were acquaintances, as were most everyone working in town for the season. Even us locals could relate to the mostly college kids who were helping us pry the tourists' wallets open. Most of us didn't mingle with “The Visitors” after hours. After all, relating to “Them” was considered work.

    We did have our own places where we'd socialize, and maybe party a bit, away from the mainstream. One of those central places was the basement of “Mother's”, accessed by an unmarked back door. Well, it wasn't really a “basement” as much as it was a semi-sublevel, given the high water table along the harbor.

    It was our own full service restaurant, but even more casual than the main level. It was common to just walk in, spot an empty chair, join a table, and slip into whatever conversation was already in progress. We had our own dedicated staff that would often sit, and chat, too, while still doing their job of seeing we were well fed.

    Ollie, and I, had occasionally broken bread together before, but always with others. He came across as a slightly shy/quiet guy, which only added to my attraction to him, which I never let on, or let him know of.

    He was about 5'8”/5'9”, with a slim build, which was more lean than lanky. I'd seen him around the dock without his shirt. He definitely had well defined muscles. I guess I'd describe him as generally long and slender, as was quite evident in his hands, fingers, feet, and toes. He had a good summer tan that accentuated the lightness of his hair, and eyes. The sight of him made my back molars water.

    I'd never made a move for him, nor ever hinted I might be interested in him. I really had no idea if he might be gay, or not. It was known that he was single, with neither a boy, or girl, friend in town. He was just a pleasantly social, nice, friendly guy that also kind of kept to himself. Everyone liked him.

    And, now, here he was in my parlor, with my hands holding him down in a chair! I squelched the feeling of me suddenly being a spider contemplating a fly. I was still too young to be a perv! Right? Maybe?

    Well … when I first got him into the light, I saw that he was wearing one of his usual T-shirts with the name of Capt. Rob's boat emblazoned on the front, and back. “What A Catch”. HA! Now how appropriate, or not, was that?
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Way to go Chaz! I can let you do the work and I'll sit back and read for a change. I think I will like that

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Some GOP bigots are trying to frame a local pagan outfit by making people vanish on a lunar cycle.

    "Thirty-one* states allow all qualified citizens to carry concealed weapons. In those states, homosexuals should embark on organized efforts to become comfortable with guns, learn to use them safely and carry them. They should set up Pink Pistols task forces, sponsor shooting courses and help homosexuals get licensed to carry. And they should do it in a way that gets as much publicity as possible. "

    --Jonathan Rauch, Salon Magazine, March 13, 2000

    *the number is now forty

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Fianlly had a chance to catch up. Love where this is headed and am
    looking forward to more chapters. Keep up the good work.

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    THANKS! to Everyone for your kind words, and replies, here in the thread, and elsewhere.

    As for this ...

    Quote Originally Posted by Kulindahr View Post
    Some GOP bigots are trying to frame a local pagan outfit by making people vanish on a lunar cycle.
    You've been cheating by reading ahead, haven't you?



    "Out of the Mist"

    Chapter 04 of ? …

    Ollie:

    “Um … I fell asleep on the boat, lost track of time, and since it got chilly, I thought I'd better head home.”, I stammered.

    “Do you know what kind of risk you were taking?”, Dave asked quietly.

    “Well, it certainly crossed my mind when you grabbed me!”, I said with a weak smile.

    “Damn, he's adorable!”, Dave thought, but didn't voice it.

    “You're lucky it was just me that caught you!”, Dave smiled. “Are you O.K.?”

    I nodded.

    “Here, at least let me look at that foot.”, Dave said as he pulled the other chair in front of me, sat down, spread his knees apart, and held a hand out.

    I raised my foot, Dave took my heel in his hand, and positioned the ball of my foot on the edge of his chair making my toes curl forward.

    “That big toe is looking a bit red.”, he said. “Sorry about that. Does it hurt?”

    “Just a bit.”, I said.

    I winced a little as he softly pressed his thumb down on my big toenail, and then joined that thumb with his other one, and applied some light pressure moving out to both sides, and up along the toe.

    “There's just a bit of blood pooling there. I want to try to disperse that a little.”, he explained. “Hold on for just a minute.”

    Before I realized it, he'd moved my heel onto his chair, and was using both hands to massage the top, and sole, of my slightly injured foot. He'd gently push his thumbs into the middle of the ball of my sole, and then circulate the pressure outward, spreading my toes. Then he'd run his knuckles along my arch, and a thumb along the outer blade, from my little toe to my heel. I'd forgotten I'd even stubbed my toe.

    I was in heaven. My entire body relaxed into the wooden chair. All tension that was in me simply went away! My foot flexed forward, and came into contact with his linen covered crotch. Was that his dick I was touching? Did I just feel it twitch?


    Dave:

    I can't claim to have a foot fetish as much as I'd call it a fascination. I think feet are incredible when it comes to their design and function. I find myself drawn to the visual aspects of their myriad curves and arcs. The way they translate weight while moving us forward, or in any other direction, is absolutely miraculous. Besides, just like our hands, they're the second most sensual parts of us.

    Given his general build, Ollie's feet were proportionately long and slender. He also had nice deep arches. The tops of his feet were darkly tanned, which served to set off his well trimmed nails like pearly insets. That also accented his lighter soles. I found myself intrigued by those color contrasts as I let my hands experience the firmness of the underlying smooth layers of muscle, and bone, of his beautiful foot.

    My main purpose was to relieve any pain he was experiencing, and get him to relax at the same time. Perhaps I was better at this than I thought because I could see him almost melt into the chair he was in. When his toes touched my crotch, I was surprised to feel my dick twitch. Maybe I've got a foot fetish after all.


    Ollie:

    Dave smiled at me, patted the top of my foot, kind of tapping my toes further into his crotch (I felt I'd nearly faint), and then he lifted my heel, and set my foot back on the floor. I was kind of hoping he'd ask for the other one, but he didn't. (Darn!)

    “I hope that's better.”, he said, as he placed a hand on my knee.

    “Yeah! That's MUCH better.”, I smiled, and heard him take a deep breath, which also made his bare chest puff up, and abs contract. I felt my own dick twitch just then, too. What had I been pulled into? Was I still on the boat merely dreaming?

    “Look!”, he said, as though I wasn't.

    He continued, “You're all damp, and still chilly. I'm not letting you go out there any further tonight. You're staying right here. You don't have a choice, so resistance is futile. Let's get you warmed up, and settled down.”

    I just nodded.

    He took my hand, and gently pulled me out of the chair.

    “Come with me.”, he stated, and guided me toward a door at the back of the room. I gladly followed, with my hand in his.

    I didn't know where he was leading me, but I went more than willingly as I took in the vision of the muscles in his shoulders, the way his shoulder blades glided under his skin, the dimples on either side of his lower spine, and the slight view of his butt cheeks, with a hint of crack, as his hips swayed under the linen of his knee length breeches.

    This HAS to be a Dream!
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    And I'm going to have a sleepless night after this cliffhanger...... You are a tease, Chaz! But, what good story doesn't have it's cliffhangers. It's getting much more intense and I can hardly wait to find out what the accommodations Dave is going to give Ollie.
    Hurry back, Chaz.

    Craiger

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    I didn't know where he was leading me, but I went more than willingly as I took in the vision of the muscles in his shoulders, the way his shoulder blades glided under his skin, the dimples on either side of his lower spine, and the slight view of his butt cheeks, with a hint of crack, as his hips swayed under the linen of his knee length breeches.

    This HAS to be a Dream!
    The very stuff that dreams are made of! This is getting so good!



  16. #16

    Re: Out of The Mist

    So great to see you doing this Chaz! Your comments have always provided me with much motivation to say the least.

    I always been a huge fan of mystery/suspense, and I LOVE how you build it up at the beginning. Will Dave and Ollie come across it soon? What will it entail? My mind is racing now please keep writing!!!

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Chaz,
    Thanks for heading me to your literary endeavor! I'm sorry it took me a few days to get here - I just got caught up.

    Started out great and it's getting even better/warmer.

    You are doing a fantastic job.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  18. #18
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Interesting style, with the sections labeled with the two names.

    This last just makes me want to go to bed and curl up against a young stud, with Bammer on my other side.

    "Thirty-one* states allow all qualified citizens to carry concealed weapons. In those states, homosexuals should embark on organized efforts to become comfortable with guns, learn to use them safely and carry them. They should set up Pink Pistols task forces, sponsor shooting courses and help homosexuals get licensed to carry. And they should do it in a way that gets as much publicity as possible. "

    --Jonathan Rauch, Salon Magazine, March 13, 2000

    *the number is now forty

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Finally had a chance to catch up. So many different ways this story
    could go. Looking forward to seeing your direction.

  20. #20
    HA! ;-)
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    I have to admit I'm Thrilled, and Pleased, with your replies, and comments, Dear Friends!

    I'm also surprised at your positive interest in my ramblings, and appreciate that more than I can put into words.

    I only hope that I might be able to continue to deserve your kindness, and thoughtful attention.



    “Out of The Mist”

    Chapter 05 of ? …

    Ollie:

    Following Dave through that door was another Time jump, but forward to Now. Light immediately filled the space as soon as he entered. It was kind of eerie in that there was no obvious source. (I'd find out later that it was a rather intricate, indirect, LED system triggered by motion and infrared sensors.)

    I was also very surprised to find myself in a mini locker room. There was a central bench between two rows of four full height lockers, eight in all. Dave led me to the far end of the bench.

    “I'll explain this later.”, he said. “For now, I want you to leave your clothes here, walk forward into that hallway, and turn left.” With that, he turned left around the lockers, and left me standing there all alone.

    I was thinking, “What the … ?” I decided to do what I'd been told, though.

    As the middle of five boys, I had no problems with nudity, especially in a locker room. It was familiar surroundings, even though it didn't smell like a typical locker room, and I was by myself. When I headed north, through the open arch to the tiled hall, the light “magically” followed me.

    On my right was another open arch to a room I just had to peek into, so I ducked my head in. The light went on in there to reveal two closed toilet stalls, two partitioned urinals, and a counter with four sinks in front of a big long mirror. It was a nice little set up.

    To my left was another arch, with a 6” high tiled threshold. As I stepped over that, the tiled room beyond lit up, too. In the center was a column with four massager shower heads, at it's top, aimed toward the room's corners. I also felt a gentle warm breeze waft around me as I chose one of the “back” showers (so I could watch the doorway), and pulled the single control which was already pointing more to the “hot” side.

    I braced myself for the expected initial blast of cold water, but it was already a near perfect temperature when it hit me, and it felt SO good. How did it do that?

    There was an assortment of body wash, bar soap, shampoo, hair conditioner, even a few loufas, etc., on the pillar's various shelves. After I'd warmed up under the plain spray setting, I sudsed myself down, and rinsed off under a gentle pulse stream. I'd really needed that!

    Turning off the water, with no sign of Dave around (Darn It!), I padded back to the bench. Where I'd left my clothes there was now a big fluffy towel, a robe, my wallet, comb, keys, and phone.



    Dave:

    The temptations going through my mind were nearly killing me! But, I decided I was going to behave myself, and be a “good boy”. (DOH!)

    I left Ollie standing there, with that adorable, bemused, look on his cute face, and headed upstairs to get him one of my robes. Perhaps I wasn't being all that “good” as I devilishly chose a knee length one with short sleeves.

    As I came back down, I listened for the shower to turn on before moving to the bench. I grabbed his T-shirt and beige “river” shorts. The shorts were a soft nylon, or something similar, with various sized zippered pockets, which I went through and emptied. I was surprised to only find four items. I also noted that the shorts had a mesh inner liner, so that explained the lack of any underwear, as though there needed to be an excuse for that any way. HA!

    Behind the east row of lockers was our towel cupboard, and a washer/dryer set. I tossed his shirt, and shorts, into the washer. Being such a small load, it would cycle fairly fast. I grabbed a towel to add to the new pile on the bench.

    I ducked back south into what we called “The Cabin”, blew out the oil lamp, clicked off the fire, and forced myself to go back upstairs, to get some food going, instead of “wondering” into the bathroom across from the showers.

    I have to admit I did have an ulterior motive for getting him in the shower, and washing his clothes, but it's not what I'm sure you're thinking! I wanted to rid him of the slight fishy smell he had about him from working on the charter boat.

    When I came back downstairs the shower was still running, so I just sat on the stairs. I finally heard the shower shut off, and patiently bided my time to allow him to get dried, and robed.

    Of course I could have walked in on him, as he was headed back to the bench, all dripping wet, and naked, and such, but I wanted to give him some space to feel comfortable about where he was. I didn't want to obviously push things. I wanted him to trust me. I certainly didn't want this possible “catch” to get away until I'd had a chance to see how our encounter might go, or not. Baby steps can get you to where you'd like to end up being.

    When I did go back to the bench, he wasn't there, but the robe and his things still were. I then heard a hair dryer click on, and I found him in front of the bathroom mirror, towel around his waist, air blow drying an arm pit.

    What a sight! My eyes were dancing in their sockets as I checked out his back, and the reflection of his front. So much smooth tanned skin, quarter sized brown nipples, tufts of darker blond hair under his arm, which was raised straight up toward the ceiling, and a huge smile on his face as he moved the dryer causing his pit hair to practically wave at me! I'd managed to “walk in on” him after all! I stopped dead in my tracks. I'm sure my mouth sagged open. Now it was me feeling like a deer in headlights. My dick jumped again!

    “Calm the fuck down!”, I urgently thought to myself.

    “Oh, hey, Dave!”, he said, as he saw my reflection behind him. “This is awesome! Thank You!”

    “It's more than that!”, I heard in my head.

    “No problem, Buddy!”, I smiled. “Your clothes are in the washer, by the way. They should be ready for the dryer, soon. In fact, they might be done now.”

    “Yeah, I was kind of wondering about where they'd gone.”, he grinned.

    “Tell you what … I'll go check on that while you finish making yourself beautiful. Then, we'll see about getting some food into you.”

    “Making yourself beautiful”? Did I just say that?

    It took more effort than I thought it would to turn, and head for the washer. His clothes were done, so I tossed them in the dryer, on low. The machine would sense when everything was dry. I heard the hair dryer flick off. I just stood there, slowly counting to myself, taking some deep breaths, to give him some more private time.

    “Um … Dave?”, I heard in just a few moments.

    “I'm right here.”, I said, as I stepped around from behind the lockers.

    The towel was on the bench. The robe was on him. He must have put his things in the robe's two big pockets. I noted, with more than just passing interest, that he'd wrapped the robe rather loosely about himself. The robe's belt was looped in a single twist, off to one side, right at his waist line. The “V” of the white terry cloth was framing his smooth skin down to just above his navel. He'd combed his hair. There was a slight wave in his blond locks, which were parted in the middle, and framed his forehead with a curl on either side, pointing toward his nearly white eyebrows.

    I was momentarily stunned speechless by his wide smile, the light dancing off his white teeth, which he aimed right at me when he saw me. Did he have any idea how powerful that particular “weapon” was that he possessed, not to mention those deep blue eyes, like lasers firing, sparkling, right into my heart, which I swear just skipped a beat, or two?

    “O.K., then!”, I stammered. “Follow me, Stud.”, I muttered, as I headed around the west locker bank, and toward the stairs leading up to my private lair.

    Did I just call him “Stud”? He's turned me into a drooling idiot!
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    *Starts licking chops as drool drips out of open mouth . . .*

    You describe the catch of the day . . . month . . . YEAR quite nicely.

    Definitely enjoying your literary lasciviousness - and you're only baby steps on the path!


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  22. #22
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    What great restraint Dave has.....I couldn't possibly have shown that. I can hardly wait to reach his "lair" and I'm sure Ollie is just as intrigued. There are some curious things rolling around in my head, but I will hold them at bay. Hurry back, Chaz.

    Craiger

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Well gents- Lets show Chaz our gratitude. . . By rating this thead!

    A 5 star effort for sure ;-)
    I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask them where they're going and hook up with them later."
    -- Mitch Hedberg

  24. #24

    Re: Out of The Mist

    The buildup will no doubt make the final result all the more amazing.

    Keep it up Chaz!!!

  25. #25
    HA! ;-)
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Your replies are cherished, DQ and Scream!

    Quote Originally Posted by Craiger View Post
    There are some curious things rolling around in my head, but I will hold them at bay.
    Please feel free to PM me, if you'd like.

    Quote Originally Posted by rocabar View Post
    Well gents- Lets show Chaz our gratitude. . . By rating this thead!

    A 5 star effort for sure ;-)
    Oh, WOW! That hadn't crossed my mind. THANK YOU, Buddy!



    “Out of The Mist”

    Chapter 06 of ? …

    Ollie:

    Yeah, I kinda gave myself a little inward grin when Dave said “beautiful”. But, he also said it in such a nonchalant way, as any guy might, in a joking kind of manner. And, when he called me “Stud”, well, to be honest, that barely registered, since it's one of my old school nicknames.

    Translated from Dutch, my last name, Van Hengst, means of/by/with stallion. Since my family raises horses, in a mountain valley a couple hundred miles inland, and my schoolmates tended to comment on my long, slender, uncut dick, “Stud”, and “Hoss”, were something they called me in a comradely, teasing, maybe envious, mostly affectionate tone. In fact, if I was with my brothers, and someone yelled, “Hey, Stud!”, all five of us would turn in answer. We'd all been, and my two younger brothers still were, subjected to the same friendly razzing.

    After a moment, or two, it faintly pinged in my brain. How could Dave possibly know that? Plus, as far as I knew, he hadn't even seen my dick, yet! HA!

    “Hmmm ...”, I was thinking, as I followed him past the lockers, through a propped open door, and into a battleship gray hallway. The light followed us.

    The hallway was a wide one. To my right (north) it lead to what looked to be a door to the outside. Immediately to my left, Dave began ascending a curved stairway that was as wide as the hallway. The carpeted treads were lit from both sides by recessed lights in the iron framework. I would learn that it had been designed, and built, by Dan and Tim.

    I kept four, or five, steps below Dave, which allowed me to appreciate his muscular calves, flexing thighs, and though his linen breeches were loose fitting, there was a pronounced bounce in his hips as his ass sinuously jiggled at my eye level.

    I also took in, with flaring nostrils, the faint, definitely masculine, musky scent of his body, permeating the air he'd just vacated above my nose. I could feel my “horse cock” begin to grow. “Down, Boy!”, warningly erupted throughout my cerebral cortex, to no obvious avail!

    I was almost panting, and I don't mean from exertion, when we finally reached the top, and were now facing east. Dave turned right into an expansive “open concept” living, dinning, kitchen area.

    I'm not exactly a scholar when it comes to wood, at least the cellulose kind, but I recognized the flooring as teak, just like a boat deck. I wasn't paying much attention to the living/dinning part as Dave padded toward the three sided kitchen area that took up the entire south end of the space. We were approaching a middle island/counter, with six bar stools in front of it, and hanging cabinets overhead. As he walked around one side, into the working area of the kitchen, he motioned for me to perch on one of those stools.

    “Park your butt.”, he said over his naked shoulder.

    The cabinetry was honey colored with a complex, darker, swirled grain. The counter tops were granite. The appliances, and double sink, under a window that must look out over the alley/walkway, were brushed stainless steel. There was an iron pot (that Dan likely made) simmering on the gas stove. Dave lifted it's lid, and stirred it's contents with a wooden spoon.

    “I'm guessing you might be a little hungry since you slept through supper time.”, he said. “I hope you like beef stew.”

    So that was what was smelling so good (in addition to the beefy hunk in front of me)!

    “But first, how's that toe doing?”, he asked.

    “Um … uh … I know it's still there.”, I replied, even though that was the last thing on my deviant mind.

    “Now that it's all squeaky clean, let me take another quick look.”, he said, and came back around the island/bar to swivel the stool's seat, and me, toward him. “Prop your heel on the top rung there, and level out your foot.”

    He looked down and said, “It's still looking a bit too pink. I've got something here that will likely help.” He reached over the bar, down to a lower level, and withdrew a small, flat, round white jar.

    “This is something that Gary, the pharmacist, made up for us. It's an antiseptic, anti-inflammatory, anesthetic topical creme. We tend to go through quite of bit of it around here, in the blacksmith shop, with hammers flying, and all.”, he smiled. He undid the lid, and squatted down on his heels in front of me, holding the open jar cupped in one palm.

    He gently daubed a bit of the creme, using his thumb and forefinger, over, under, and along the sides of my big toe. It felt nice, and he didn't seem to be in any big hurry.



    Dave:

    Was I really concerned about Ollie's big toe? Well, yeah, but I also knew it was going to be fine with, or without, Gary's wonder creme.

    Did I have to scootch down on my haunches to administer it? Well, not exactly.

    With my head down, as though I was concentrating on rubbing his toe, I was surreptitiously glancing up under the robe that his knee was now holding up. I let my gaze wonder along the back of his raised thigh, past the mid way tan line, and visually caressed the pale skin leading to his slender butt, which was nestled on the cloth of the back of the robe.

    Flicking my gaze to the inside of his thigh, I was awarded with one egg sized orb, and …

    Damn it! That was it! While looking down to watch me, he'd learned forward, hands in his lap, and the robe had draped over his left leg, and the rest of his crotch! Doh!

    The best laid plans, even those contrived “on the fly” … “Shoot!” At least I'd tried!

    Still … the view of just one of Ollie's impressive balls was enough to get my member to begin snaking along my own leg, and oozing a bit of moisture in the process!

    I continued rubbing the creme into his toe, until it was dry again, then launched myself back up, not caring if I might be sporting an obvious bit of bulge, and likely a little wet spot.

    “How's that now?”, I asked, noticing that his eyes paused at my crotch, for a split second, as he quickly scanned up my body, before directly meeting my own eyes.

    “Feels like it's working. Thanks!”, he grinned, briefly flashing his pearly whites.

    Did I mention he has dimples? Heaven help me!

    I also knew the creme was working because my thumb, and forefinger, were becoming a little numb. I needed to wash my hands.



    Ollie:

    Looking down at the tangled mass of Dave's raven curls, I barely managed to keep my hands resting in my lap, instead of reaching out, and running my fingers through his hair. I wondered how soft it might be.

    I also imagined gently grabbing his ears, and guiding his head to a higher location, other than being bent over looking at my foot! His ears? Heck! I hadn't even seen them, yet. They were hidden under his bouncy locks.

    “Rein it in, Stud!”, I reprimanded myself.

    He'd been nothing more than kind, caring, and concerned about my well being. Returning his gracious hospitality, by making a move for him, might be taken as an insult, or maybe something even worse. I didn't have any concrete indications, or even second hand knowledge, whether he might like guys, or not. I didn't want to take a chance of possibly offending him.

    Since I'd first met him (What? Six weeks ago, or so?), Dave seemed like a great guy, and looked even better! His actions tonight only served to reinforce all of that. I could always use a good friend, and I didn't want to jeapordize that. Still …

    I could feel my toe becoming slightly numb as he was coaxing that creme into it. Any faint lingering sensation of pain was subsiding. That stuff certainly worked! Maybe I should ask him to rub some of that on “Hoss”. HA!

    He suddenly stood up, and I scoped his body out, again, as I raised my eyes to his. Was that a lump in his breeches? Was that a little damp spot? Was he that much into feet? What was I thinking?

    The linen was cut too loosely to tell for sure. I simply grinned my appreciation as “Hoss” bucked a bit. Yeah! “It” was working, all right!

    Dave quickly glided around the bar, and began washing his hands at the sink. I could understand why. As he turned back toward me, he was drying his paws with a kitchen towel, that he'd snagged from a hook on the side of the cabinet framing the window.

    “Ready to put something in your tummy?”, he asked.
    Last edited by Kyanimal; August 23rd, 2014 at 12:42 AM.
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Putting your guest/patient at ease, such a humanitarian!

    I wonder where hands might wander as the evening progresses?

    Only your doctor knows for sure . . .


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  27. #27

    Re: Out of The Mist

    My God, I would give anything to have a Dave to rub/worship my feet after a long day of canvassing!!!

  28. #28
    JUB Addict Craiger's Avatar
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    The intense buildup on both our boys is getting so strong something has to give. Which will make the first move???? Full tummies will help calm both and lull them into unabashed desires. A quick touch here and there will allow both to bring about the needed release of tensions. A full five stars from me...... Thanks, Chaz.

    Craiger

  29. #29
    HA! ;-)
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Since this is my first attempt at writing a continuing, long, story, I can't put into effective words how surprised, and tremendously pleased, I am that y'all have expressed that you like it!

    Thank You! THANK YOU! It all means more than I can possibly let you truly know!



    “Out of The Mist”

    Chapter 07 of ? …

    Ollie:

    I was more than ready to swallow “Something”, for sure!

    “Sounds like a good idea!”, I smiled at Dave.

    “Coming right up! At your service!”, he grinned.

    (OMG! I wished!)

    The top of the bar I was seated at only extended half the depth of the island. There was a lower level, on the kitchen side, that must go under where I was resting my elbows, with my forearms raised, and clasping my hands together.

    Dave reached under and extracted a wide, deep, stoneware bowl that had obviously been thrown by Bernie, the potter up the street. He also brought out a tablespoon, which he placed next to the bowl, on a half folded paper towel.

    “Sorry about the informal napkin. We don't stand on all that much ceremony around here.”, he said.

    Next up was a smaller, matching, “Bernie” plate, with several thick cuts of heavily buttered, crusty, bread. He must have set this all up while I was getting wet downstairs.

    He then swiveled to his right, took the wooden spoon out of the pot, set it on the upturned lid on the counter, further to his right, turned off the low flame, then lifted the pot by it's handle with his left hand, and turned back to the bar. With his right hand, he slid open a drawer and brought out an iron “Dan” ladle, and proceeded to scoop the beef stew into “my” bowl.

    I grinned to myself as an odd thought flickered through my mind, as they often do. Given his mop of hair, the pelt covering his chest and abs, continuing all the way down to his crotch, not to mention the fur on his arms, maybe I'd find a “dark curly one” in my food, and I could imagine it was one of his pubes. HA!

    I realize that would bother most folks, but I'd just consider it added protein, and wouldn't really mind, as long as it didn't get stuck in my teeth, or make me choke. Like I said, just another pervy weird thought. It wasn't to happen, though.

    After placing the pot back on the stove, which was under a lit, Dan/Tim built, copper vent hood, Dave sauntered to the fridge, on the other side of the kitchen area, opened the freezer side of the double doors, and with his left hand grasping their handles, produced two frosty, glass, beer mugs. He set them on the lower counter top.

    Going back to the fridge, he opened the right side, and grabbed two bottles of ale. Back at the bar, he deftly flipped open both bottles, with an opener he produced from underneath, and expertly filled both mugs, with suds just a tiny touch above the rims. One he place in front of, and to the side, of my bowl.

    “I hope you like pale ale.”, he said, as he raised his own mug.

    I grabbed my mug, and raised it to clink against his.

    “You bet I do!”, I said.

    We both took a sip, set our mugs back down, and I grabbed the spoon to dive into the stew. Dave looked on, sort of expectantly, as I tentatively took my first taste.

    WOW! This stuff was Fantastic! And, that wasn't just because I was “starving”.

    “Do you like?”, he asked, with one dark eyebrow raised.

    “Awesome!”, I practically gushed. “Where'd you get this?”

    “I made it yesterday. You're eating leftovers.”, he grinned.

    “You made this?”, I asked incredulously.

    “Yeah. It's an adaptation of my grandmother's goulash recipe.”, he stated.

    “I love your grandma!”, I nearly shouted, as I proceeded to dig into the very savory contents of the bowl before me.

    That brought a huge smile to Dave's face!



    Dave:

    I was more than pleased as I watched Ollie shovel the stew into his face, take some bites of bread, a gulp of ale, and repeat the process. I'd swear the “kid” hadn't eaten for days. It was that, or he'd honed his eating style coming from a large family, I supposed. Eat as fast as you can, so if you want more, there might be something left before everyone else gets it.

    However, I'd not seen him do that at “Mother's”. This was a bit of a revelation. Maybe, I was a better cook than I thought I was.

    I any case, it didn't take him long to finish everything off.

    “I'm sorry, but that's the last of the stew. I wasn't expecting company.”, I said. “Can I refill your mug, and maybe get you something else to eat?”

    With a little pout, if that was what I was seeing, he said, “Yes, please, and Thank You!, at least about the ale. I'm definitely not feeling hungry any more. That was delicious!”

    Since my mug was still half full, I only grabbed one more ale from the fridge, and refilled his. I also cleared away everything else, rinsed what needed to be, including the pot, and put it all into the dishwasher that was built in under the counter beside the sink.

    “Do you have to work tomorrow?”, I asked, as I turned back toward the blond, cute, smooth, hunk of testosterone, wrapped in terry cloth, who had ghostly solidified out of the fog, and into my heart. Well, to be honest, I wasn't entirely sure how deep into my heart he'd materialized, but he'd certainly managed to thoroughly drift into my visceral lower regions, if you know what I mean.

    “Naw! Capt. Rob's wife won't let him work on Sundays, and Monday is an off day, too, 'cause of the lower demand.”, Ollie said, as he took another sip of ale.

    “Same here.”, I said. “Dan's wife laid down the law about no Sundays, and we're closed on Monday, too.”

    “Sweet!”, he nearly gushed.

    After a brief pause, “So, I have to ask.”, he said. “What's with that whole locker room set up downstairs?”

    “That was put in at the insistence of Dan's wife. She didn't want her men coming home all sweaty and sooty.”, I explained.

    “Makes sense!”, Ollie grinned. “I wish we had something like that at the dock. We can be smelling just a tad fishy when we come off the boat.”

    “Yeah! I kinda noticed.” I chuckled.

    “Sorry about that!”, he said, while bowing his head in what could be perceived as a gesture of mild shame.

    “No problem! This entire town smells fishy when the wind is just so.”, I smiled.

    “Yeah! I know!”, he said, with a flash of his dimples. “Still, it would be nice if we had such facilities dockside.”

    “Tell you what. You can always drop by and use it whenever you want to.”, I encouraged.

    “By the way”, Ollie continued. “Why wasn't I hit with a blast of cold water when I first turned on the shower?”

    “Well, there is a huge water tank in the rafters above here. It's main purpose is possible fire suppression, which we pray we'll never need. It also feeds all of the building's plumbing. Those showers are fed from the top down through gas heated coils. The showers' knobs may look, and feel, standard, but it's actually a digital system that opens the valves, and controls the water's temperature before it get's to the shower heads.”

    “It seems this place has many secrets.”, Ollie said.

    “More than you can possibly know, yet.”, I said, and took another sip of ale. “Tomorrow, or rather later today, I'll let you in on some more of them.”

    “What time is it?”, he asked.

    “According to the microwave over there”, I nodded toward the stove, which the mic was next to, over the counter, “we're coming up on 2am.”

    “I han't notiched that.”, he slurred. “I din't realizh it'sh tha' la'e.”

    He was leaning forward, with his forearms on the bar. He was cupping his mug in both hands. His eyes weren't all the way open as he looked at me. His head was drooping slightly.

    I made a mental note to be sure to thank Gary for the effectiveness of the sleeping powder I'd dissolved in the stew.
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    I love the way your story is headed. Can't wait for more buddy.

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    . . . Uhh Oh !
    I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask them where they're going and hook up with them later."
    -- Mitch Hedberg

  32. #32
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Sleeping powder?

    Somebody is crossing the line.

    "Thirty-one* states allow all qualified citizens to carry concealed weapons. In those states, homosexuals should embark on organized efforts to become comfortable with guns, learn to use them safely and carry them. They should set up Pink Pistols task forces, sponsor shooting courses and help homosexuals get licensed to carry. And they should do it in a way that gets as much publicity as possible. "

    --Jonathan Rauch, Salon Magazine, March 13, 2000

    *the number is now forty

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    I sure hope the Sleeping Powder is only to help persuade him that he needs to SLEEP there tonight - no taking advantage of - until all parties are well rested, awake and alert - and consenting!


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  34. #34
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Well, hopefully Ollie wakes up with Dave next to him in bed. I'm sure Dave will be the gentleman and not seduce Ollie before. What fun would that be. It's getting deeper and deeper though. I'm interested in the other secrets of the house also...... Much to learn.

    Craiger

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Wait for after work group shower time - the two of them and the other guys. All around a center column shared shower.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  36. #36
    HA! ;-)
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Lovin' all of your comments, and suggestions, everyone! Keep it UP!


    “Out of The Mist”

    Chapter 08 of ? …

    Dave:

    O.K.! I'll admit it! Spiking the stew wasn't one of my greatest moves, but it seemed like a good idea when I did it.

    When Ollie was downstairs in the shower, the thought crossed my mind that he might want to try to make it to Mrs. Neumann's after he'd gotten cleaned up. Given this was one of “those” nights, there was no way I was going to let him take that chance, and I wasn't sure I could talk him out of it, if that's what he wanted to do! I couldn't keep him here against his will.

    So, the “brilliant” idea I came up with, justified or not, was stacking the deck in my favor, just in case. I was convinced I was doing it for his own good.

    Sometimes I had trouble sleeping. It wasn't often, but I had mentioned it to Gary, and he'd kindly made up his own little concoction for me. He'd assured me it wasn't anything that required a prescription, and would only act as a mild nudge. I'd taken it a few times, and it always did the trick, leaving me refreshed in the morning.

    Since Ollie was smaller than me, I only used three quarters of my own dose. By the time I grabbed the ale out of the fridge, I'd actually forgotten about it. I was also not counting on the additional effects of a warm full belly. Now I was a little concerned, and mentally smacking myself upside the back of my head for being such an idiot. The stew, and ale, likely would have been enough.

    “How are you felling, Buddy?”, I asked.

    Ollie shagged his head back and forth a few times, sat back up straight on the stool, gave me a sheepish grin, and said, ”Oh! Sorry about that! I must be more tired that I thought I was, or that ale is stronger than what I've had before. Felt a bit groggy there, for a moment.”

    At least he seemed to have cleared his head, and wasn't slurring his words anymore.

    “What say we get you tucked in? The first door on the left, past the stairs, is a bathroom, if you feel the need. The other door in there leads to the guest room.”, I told him.

    “Yeah! That sounds like a good idea.”, he said, as he pushed off from the bar, with both hands, and stood up. “I'll certainly take you up on that. Thanks!”

    “Glad to be of service! Just shout if you need anything.”, I instructed him, and watched him closely as I let him make his own way. “Sleep tight!”

    Yeah! I easily could have shepherded him, but I wanted to observe, see that he was truly O.K., and could navigate under his own steam. Besides, I also couldn't entirely trust myself not to give in to temptation, jump his bones, and become a predator instead of his “knight in shining armor”. I preferred he'd possibly consider me the latter.

    There may have been the slightest wobble in his gait, as he headed away from me, but he appeared to be doing all right. I'd still keep a sharp eye, and ear, out.

    A moment after he'd found the light switch, he entered the bathroom, and closed the door. I silently followed to stand in the hall, and listen, just in case. Soon I heard his strong stream splashing, no, gushing, into the toilet's water. “Damn!”, I thought, “That boy sounds like a horse!” Little did I know!



    Ollie:

    I was a little disappointed that Dave had just let me walk away from him, instead of playing guide, but I was feeling drowsy, and realized I needed to get some sleep.

    It was a squeaky clean full bath that I entered, complete with tub and shower. Having the urge to go, I flipped up the toilet's lid, and seat, untied the robe, and holding it open with my forearms, both hands cupping my bare hips, just let it flow. I was able to maintain proper aim even though I was swaying just a tad.

    After a flush, I turned to the sink, and washed my hands, while looking into the mirror above the granite topped vanity. The image reflected back at me was a bit rough, but still passable. I splashed some water on my face, and dried my hands by running them through my hair. Why dirty one of the hand towels?

    There was a closed door, leading north, at the back of the bathroom. When I opened it, and reached around, there was a light switch right where there should have been. As I stepped through, I reached back, and flipped off the lights in the bathroom. So much for “magic” light.

    I wasn't paying all that much attention to the room's details, as I headed for the queen sized bed, that had already been turned down. I shrugged off the robe, tossing it into a handy chair, and flicked on a bed side lamp. I turned off the room's lights with a switch next to another door that must lead to the hallway.

    Completely naked, which is the way I generally sleep, I crawled into what turned out to be flannel sheets, reached out to flip off the lamp, and curled up on my right side, head nestled on a fluffy pillow.

    I remember wondering if, and wishing that, Dave would actually come in to tuck me in. Before I knew it, though, it was “lights out” for me, too.
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Hmmm,
    Was this the guest bedroom, or did our young guest take the wrong door?

    I have a sneaking suspicion . . .


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    I wonder the same thing too Don.

    Another great chapter my friend. Looking forward to the next one

  39. #39
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    ^^^We can only hope that is the case...... Surely something has to give. But, luckily for Dave, Ollie wasn't completely drugged out. Even though it's 2 or so in the morning, the nights still young.

    Craiger

  40. #40

    Re: Out of The Mist

    Twists and turns are sure to abound around every corner. Keep it up Chaz!

  41. #41
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    THANKS!, again, Everyone! Please keep your thoughts coming, and let me know how I'm doing. You're reactions are the main driving force behind this.

    “Out of The Mist”

    Chapter 09 of ? …

    Ollie:

    I drifted up to consciousness feeling all warm and snuggly. I'd been dreaming I was spoonig with the sexiest guy on Earth. I could feel that “Hoss” was rock hard, and I also needed to pee. I slowly opened my eyes.

    Wherever I was, there was just enough soft gray light to vaguely make out shapes. The events of last night flashed through my brain, and I realized I was in Dave's guest room. I stretched my self out, squirming a little, hoping to detect him curled up against me. Alas, I was alone (Damn It!).

    I rolled onto my back, raised my head, with my chin almost touching my breast bone, and looked around. The muted glow was coming from an open door, at the foot, and to the side of, the bed. I knew that was a bathroom. Must be a night light in there.

    I reluctantly scrambled out of my new found nest, and padded toward the low level radiance. I can't say I was exactly following “Hoss”, because he was standing straight up against my belly. I headed right over to stand in front of the open toilet.

    I grabbed my erection, and forced it to point down toward the water. That “special silvery tingle”, in my glans, was becoming painful! It took me longer than I was desperate for, through intense prayer, augmented with concentrated mental commands, to get “Hoss” to relax enough to achieve release.

    It started with a trickle, the feeling of which caused me to reflexively clench it off! Damn It! I planted my feet further apart, stood tiptoe, took a deep breath, and tilting my head back, urged my entire body to freaking relax!

    “Please! Oh, God! Please!”, I silently pleaded, up, and through, the ceiling.

    The trickle began again, and I considered myself extremely lucky that I was able to get myself to calm down more, until it evolved into full stream. I almost had to employ my other hand, too, in order to maintain aim! Maybe I should consider becoming a fireman.

    After I flushed, I flicked on the lights, and stepped directly in to the tub/shower, sporting a “semi”. I slid the clear glass door closed, pulled on the shower control, was greeted with an ideal temperate spray, and reached for the soap.

    Normally, the first thing I'd wash was my face. However, given my current state, I immediately sudsed up “Hoss” for a quick rub down. It wasn't long before my knees became weak, and I nearly stumbled, as I experienced the most powerful orgasm of my life! Cum was everywhere!

    I was practically bent in two, panting, gripping “Hoss's” base, and his “boys”, in both hands, when I came out of my self induced cerebral fog, swirling around my dreamy images of Dave.

    “Damn, that was Hot!” And, I didn't mean the water.

    “Back to Earth, Stud!”, I thought, regaining a semblance of deliberate control.

    Fortunately, the shower head was a hand held massager. I lifted it out of it's wall bracket, turned it to it's narrowest, most forceful, steady flow, and rinsed down the shower's walls, door, the tub, and me, from crown to soles. (Can semen clog drains?)

    Anchoring the shower head back to the wall, I took a quick “proper” shower under a medium pulse.

    After punching off the water, I slid the door open, and grabbed a thick bath towel from it's rack on the outside of the stationary half of the shower door. I stayed standing in the tub as I dried most of me off. I stepped out, after drying my right foot, and then toweled off the left one before stepping out completely. I rehung the towel.

    Standing in front of the vanity, I found an unopened tooth brush, a hair dryer, and a disposable razor set out on the counter top. Opening the mirror revealed toothpaste, shaving gel, Q-tips, unopened deodorant, and various other things. It was like a small tableau of Gary's drug store. I wouldn't be using the razor, though, since I only had to shave every three days, or so.

    Having made myself “beautiful”, I walked back into the bedroom, switching off the bathroom lights, and the bedroom's on. I spotted my clothes neatly folded on the top of the low dresser, at the foot of the bed. Dave must have stepped in while I was asleep. Hmmm ...

    I also noted, that as I'd exited the bathroom, I'd gone right past a high dresser, that was in a cove, next to a panel of louvered folding closet doors, that defined the rest of the west wall. Thus, the room had no windows. That explained the darkness I'd woken up to.

    I chose to only wear my shorts. As I was stepping into them, I glanced into the low dresser's mirror, and saw that “Hoss” was rather pinker than usual, and still a bit plump. I smiled as I tucked him into the shorts inner lining.

    Turning around, I made the bed, took a deep breath, tugged down my shorts “just so”, and opened the door to the hallway. I felt as though I was stepping out into a new day, and, hopefully, something more, as I followed the smell of bacon toward the kitchen.



    Dave:

    After I'd assured myself that Ollie was O.K., and successfully settled in, I went downstairs to get his clothes out of the dryer. Back upstairs, I gently opened the bedroom door, and peeked in to see the back of his head cradled on one of the pillows. The bed clothes covered him up to his neck.

    All kinds of lascivious thoughts were fighting for attention, in that alternate world within my skull. I stood looking down at him for several seconds, then urged myself to take a few steps and place his clothes on the dresser. I reluctantly returned to the hall, silently closing his door behind me.

    “There is plenty of time.” I reminded myself, as I strode to the linen closet at the north end of the hall, and turned to the right into my own bedroom, fully aware I'd be taking care of some “personal business” before I could get to sleep. HA!

    It was shortly after 9am when I heard Ollie making “interesting” noises in the bathroom. So, I stepped out of my den/office door, which was directly across the hall, went to the kitchen, and started breakfast preparations. While getting things ready, it didn't escape me that he was in the shower for longer than might be expected. “Hmmm …”, I smiled to myself. “Interesting, indeed!”

    As I was wrapping things up (not literally), I heard the guest bedroom door open, and was soon gazing, somewhat stunned, at the ideal “Barefoot boy, with cheeks of tan ...” striding toward me. I almost reached to pinch myself to check I wasn't dreaming!

    My brain nearly went into total “Overload” as HE, shirtless, fluidly glided closer, in what seemed like slow motion. His shimmering bond hair, sparkling blue eyes, beaming smile, flashing dimples, prominent Adam's apple, long graceful neck, pronounced collar bones, slab pecs, perky brown nipples, “winky” horizontal navel, defined abs, and his dust of treasure trail, melded into a vision of sheer young testosterone “on the hoof”!

    He was wearing his beige shorts low on his swaying hips. And let's not forget his shoulders, rounded biceps, lightly furred arms, long fingered hands, lean fuzzy legs, and his slender toes, that he was repeatedly pointing right at me, as he effortlessly “floated” to end up perching his butt on “his” bar stool.

    My dick had jumped several times, and was approaching full mast. Thankfully, or maybe not, I was standing behind the island, holding myself up, both hands firmly planted on the lower counter top. I had no doubt my expression was slack jawed. I only hoped that I wasn't obviously drooling!

    “Good morning, or whatever it is!”, he gleamed.

    “Morning it still is.”, I sort of stammered, as I emerged from my trance. “Did you sleep well?”

    “Better than I've ever before.”, he said. “That bed, though lonely, has got to be the best I've had the pleasure to occupy.”

    Did he just say, “Lonely”? Hmmm … Be still my pounding heart!

    “Coffee?”, I asked.

    “Oh, yes, please!”, he enthused.

    “Cream? Sugar?”, I inquired.

    “No, thanks. Naked is best.”, he smirked.

    I didn't know, for sure, how to take that. It was a common phrase. Or, was he (hopefully) implying more than that?

    “Coming right up!”, I intoned, with a sheepish grin of my own, as I went about pouring him a “Bernie” mug of deep, black, rich Kona.

    “How about some brunch?”, I asked, as I placed the steaming mug before of him.

    “Brunch? What time is it ?”, he inquired.

    “It's just about 10.”, I said, while glancing toward the microwave display.

    “Oh! I should call Mrs. Neumann, and let her know I'm O.K. She tends to worry about her boarders like an old mother hen.”, he chuckled.

    “I know! So, I gave her a ring shortly after I woke up around 8. She was pleased, and relieved, to hear that I have you here.”, I assured him. (I could only wish I “had” him!)

    “Thank you, Buddy, from me and her!”, he said, flashing his perfect white teeth. “That's a relief for both of us, I'm sure.”

    “No problem! I've known Elsa for several years.”, I told him.

    “Elsa? That's the first time I've heard her first name.”, Ollie said.

    “Well, I can tell you some stories behind that.”, I grinned. “But, first, let me get us fed.”

    I swear I meant food. HA!
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Still on the edge of my seat to see where you are headed here.
    Love the new chapter buddy. Looking forward to the next one.

  43. #43

    Re: Out of The Mist

    I resisted this one a little bit... but now I've been hooked.
    Now another story I'm going to be anxiously following for awhile!

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Oh, Chaz. You Devil. You are definitely living down to the stereotypical Preacher's son.

    Keep up the good work!


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  45. #45
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    How fiendish of you, Chaz. I was sure there would be someone nestled quite comfortably behind Ollie. But, that leaves us with more to anticipate with this awesome story. Now, what are the secrets around the Blacksmith Shop and the stories about "Elsa?" The intrigue is growing.

    Craiger

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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Elsa is such a "witch" of a name, methinks . . .


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  47. #47
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Welcome aboard, FastOne! As for the rest of you, am I catching a whiff, of you're slyly letting me know, that I may be a bit too long winded?

    “Out of The Mist”

    Chapter 10 of ? …

    Dave:

    I have to admit I wasn't moving very efficiently while setting things up to serve brunch. I found myself having to forcefully concentrate on what I was doing. There were too many thoughts roiling around in my head, my big one as well as my little one.

    Yeah! Ollie was definitely teasing me, from my perspective. But, was he doing it on purpose? Was he really implying “more” through his comments? As for sagging his shorts, was that his usual way of wearing them? When he'd had his T-shirt on it's tail was out over his waist. Was he actually dancing around coming on to me? Clues were there. They just weren't solid enough to be sure!

    I needed to calm down, play it cool, carefully set out my bait, and steadily coax him into my trap. One false move and he could scamper away. “Slowly, slowly, catchy monkey.”

    Then again, I might be barking up the wrong tree. He might not be into guys at all! Of course, I could come right out and ask him. And, maybe I should! At least if he reacted negatively, or even outright bolted, my current torment would be over.

    One thing about guys his age, even if it wasn't how they truly felt, the boldness of that question could get them all defensive, and cause them to reflexively run. One of my own regrets is that I'd been known to have done that myself, on a few occasions! Why did this have to be so damned complicated? I'd just have to take my time, and see how this turns out.

    Upon retrieving two Oneida stainless place settings, I momentarily froze trying to decide if we should eat at the bar or the table. I settled on keeping it casual, placing one set on the upper level for Ollie, and the other on the lower level for me. Though I'd rather sit beside him, being face to face would be better for chatting.

    I got two plates from the overhead (Of course, all of my pottery was from Bernie), and put them by the stove to begin dishing out the food.

    I turned toward Ollie and asked, “Would you like anything else besides coffee? Milk? Juice? Water? Bloody Mary? Morning Glory? Beer? Wine? Whatever?”

    “Um, no thanks.” he said. “Just coffee is fine for now. Maybe we can hit the booze later.”

    “Later?”, I'm wondering. That glimmer of Hope was still alive, and sounding ever stronger!



    Ollie:

    My devious plan looked like it might be working. When I'd sat at the bar, Dave was looking a little dazed. As he'd gotten me the coffee, and continued moving about, his motions sometimes looked tentatively halting, unlike his normal sinuous grace. Maybe some of his servos were short circuiting. HA!

    Several of my relays were approaching maximum capacity, too. That gorgeous hunk of all-man was only wearing emerald silk boxers! Though they were half way down his moderately beefy frame, but not as low as I was wearing my shorts, that color still manged to accentuate his awe inspiring eyes!

    Being slightly tighter than his linen breeches, the shiny material was bulging, vaguely outlining his penis, which curved out, and downward, over his testicles. I couldn't tell it's ultimate length, but I could see he was consistently thicker than me, and probably cut! “Lord, help me!”

    I'd made the mistake of taking a sip of coffee half a second before he reached up to grab the plates. I nearly spewed it into his black arm pit hair! I'm sure that would have made him jump! (“Hoss” certainly did!) And, I wouldn't have minded licking his pit, pec, and lat clean afterward! I was hungry for more than food!

    “Tone it down, Stud!”, I heard alarms clanging in the back of my gray matter. Don't be getting ahead of yourself! You don't want this one slipping the hook, or breaking the line! Steady as it goes while reeling this one in! Baby steps, Buddy!

    His offer of various intoxicants might have been a portent of attempted seduction. Then again, imbibing with Sunday brunch wasn't exactly uncommon. And, though I was tempted to see where that might lead, I was also intrigued to find out more about him, this place, Mrs. Neumann, and whatever else he might be able to fill me in on. There was much more here to be had than getting off.

    I was quietly watching Dave as he prepared our plates, and nonchalantly adjusted his boxers a few times, before he presented his latest culinary accomplishment, pulled a lower wooden stool from under his side of the island, and plopped his bubble butt down upon it. (If only that stool was my face! “STFU, Damn It!”)

    “Allow me to introduce you to Eggs Benicek.”, he grinned. “You'll need the knife.”

    I found myself looking down at four strips of perfectly browned bacon, two on each side of the plate, two sprigs of bright parsley, crossed along the upper rim, all framing two mounds of “something” covered with a pale yellowish sauce.

    “Looks interesting!”, I said, and proceeded to dissect/attack the left globule.

    Here's the “Van Hengst Technique” of mining food that needs to be cut, as opposed to what can be scooped, or impaled, in already mouth sized units, which only requires supporting yourself, with one forearm on the table, while leaning forward and dredging with the opposing paw:

    Hold the fork inverted (prongs curved down) in your left hand, with your forefinger pressing the back for maximum pressure. Hold the knife in your right hand, forefinger extended along the top of the handle and blade. Stab with the fork, cut in front of it (to the right) with the knife, then lift your skewered bite-sized morsel, while pivoting your wrist, into your gaping “pie hole”.

    Pierce, slice, elevate, chomp, and while you're chewing/swallowing, start the next cycle.

    As I was raising the fork toward my gob, I was simultaneously inspecting the exposed layers of what I was about to put on my tongue. The foundation was a toasted (and, as I was soon to discover, well buttered) half of an English Muffin, topped with what looked like striations of shaved ham, under scrambled eggs, coated with that “mystery” sauce.

    The sensations that hit my taste buds were AWESOME!

    “Fuck me! This is beyond Good!”, I blurted, as I went in for the next mouthful. “What are your secrets?”

    (“WARNING!, Will Robinson!”, flashed through my brain. What the HELL did you just say?)

    Dave was grinning, ear to ear, as he said, “So, I guess you like it. Yes?”

    “Mmmm, mmmm!”, I muttered with my stuffed mouth.

    “Well ...”, he began, “I'm sure you can identify most of it. The ham is Black Forest from Pemberton Farms in Cambridge. I order it online.”

    “The sauce”, he continued, “is condensed cream of mushroom soup, made with only half a can of milk, with three American cheese singles melted into it. Not all that complicated.”

    I paused, swallowed, and said, “Excellent! Now tell me about Elsa while I get to the point of licking this plate clean.”

    “At the rate you're going, I”d better talk fast.”, he chuckled.
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

  48. #48
    Slut
    Join Date
    Jun 2008
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    Forsyth
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    Single
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Another great chapter my friend. I look forward to dessert....hehehe.

  49. #49
    Defender of Downtrodden
    DonQuixote's Avatar
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    Dec 2008
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    Western New York
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    After he's done licking HIS plate I suspect he'll come around the island to lick your plate, then continue to the next lower convenient breakfast "meat" to lick.

    Loving it, Chaz.


    And I know, if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest . . .

  50. #50
    Queer enough
    EJMichaels's Avatar
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    Apr 2010
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    Female
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    Re: Out of The Mist

    Outstanding story! So many interesting details and twists along with all the sexy bits (and that secret sauce recipe). It's great to see your talents put toward a longer piece.

    More info here. Free copies by request.

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