Too defiant to Abuse

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence and rape which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

Introduction:

Longer-read: After college, the 23-year-old Michael J Cox moved clear across the country. Finding a new house, job, and a heap of trouble. Getting to know the friends and enemies he encountered. And the great sex he had with both. However much he liked the thuggish type, the defiant Mikey Mike hates to be dominated, bound, or abused. 
This is a 9-part dramatic depiction of what Mike had to endure setting up shop.

Disclaimer:
This story is strictly fictional and contains male-on-male (gay) sexual content, both implied and explicit. 

• If this offends you, please do not continue. 
• If you are under 16 years of age, please exit this story now. 

All character names, implied situations, parties, or locations are strictly fictional. Any similarities with real people are unintentional and purely coincidental. This fictional story is the author's imagination and is not based on real-life events or people. The author does not endorse any products or parties named in this story.

Copyright:
Any and all copyrights to this story remain strictly that of the author. No other publication, use, or reproduction of this story or parts of this story is allowed without the author's written consent. 

Too defiant to Abuse - Part 4.

Michael got greeted in the parking lot by Frank Grunnings. Frank called over: "Go park your car by the warehouse, Michael... All staff park there... See you in a moment upstairs..." Mike stuck up a hand in thanks and parked around back.
Taking the lunchroom entrance, Michael was greeted by one of the older ladies working the counter there. "Hi, son... What shall it be?... I heard you're our new manager... I am Martha, by the way..." She beamed at Michael. It looked as if she had high hopes for this 23-year-old college graduate.

"Hello, Martha, nice to meet you... I am looking forward to working with you... But nothing right now, thanks... Have to meet the bosses to talk contracts first... But I'd love something with a lot of fruit later... Those look nice..." Michael pointed at large Danish pastries with a fruit mixture on display. "Do those have a lot of sugar?... I am trying to watch my weight a little..."
"Ah... Good for you, Michael... I'll make a few without the sugar glaze then..." said Martha as Michael went in search of the Grunnings's. The friendly beaming staff gave Michael a warm and fuzzy feeling. It had cleared any nerves he might have had right up. The job interview with Frank and Ellise turned out to be a mere formality. The Grunnings's discussed his pay, his work schedule, and benefits. The salary for the 28-hour-a-week job was better than expected. 

Michael thanked mister and misses Grunnings for their trust. Running some initial ideas for shop improvements past them. He got introduced to the staff after the signatures were set. The rest of Mike's life could now begin. He was more than ready for it.

But he still had a lot left to do. So he was actually thankful this was only a part-time job. For one, his house was filthy. And he did not have anything to clean it with. So Michael went on a shopping spree at Grunnings like no other. Buying everything but the kitchen sink. Mike had one of those. But he got buckets, mobs, cleaning supplies, a vacuum cleaner, a ladder, and a steam cleaner. As well as some items for the kitchen like a toaster and coffee maker. He laughed to himself. Grunnings was the one-stop shop you could get all you needed for that. And then some. If it was manufactured, Frank seemed to stock it. 

When the staff curiously asked what he was doing, Michael explained he had found himself a house. But that it had not been cleaned or maintained for eighteen months. Spontaneously the lunchroom ladies and misses Grunnings offered to help Michael. The boy wanted to pay Frank for the items. But Frank just gave him a shop discount, added the employee discount, and a bulk discount. Making the grand total of one dollar. There was no way to talk Frank Grunnings out of this. So Michael paid the dollar and went back to shop for more. He bought his new bed linens, towels, washcloths, tea towels, and toiletries. Paid for them in full when Ellise worked the till.

Michael returned to the lunchroom after everything got stowed in his hot hatchback. Eating a Danish with the ladies in the kitchen bakery. Getting to know this side of the Grunnings's businesses as well. One of the women saw Michael's furrowed brow. She asked: "What's wrong, dear?..."
"Oh... It's okay... Setting up a first-time home is hard work... And I have not even begun to look for a doctor or a dentist yet... Ha... But I need a haircut first..." said Michael looking around the group.

Martha motherly said, "Ellise told me you wanted to get an earring to... Don't let her talk you out of it... Frank used to have an earring as well... Use that if she gets mad... An earing would look nice on you, dear..."
Some of the other women handed Michael bits of paper with addresses for doctors and dentists. And Martha added: "And as for a hairdresser, son... I think you want to go to Chandan's... He has a shop a few blocks up Main street... Near the Galaxy, a gay nightclub, and the redlight district... Chandan Chanker is of the men-love too..." She chuckled naughtily as the rest looked at her in shock. Wondering how she knew all this. "My grandson used to go to the Galaxy too... He's gay as well... And for young guys like Michael, Chandan is the best Barber in town..." she told the other women.

It became clear that the other women were not used to hearing Martha speak this freely about homosexuality. One even asked if Michael had told this to Ellise. He nodded, and her eye's widened. "How did she take that?..." she asked, astonished.
"Okay... I think... Ellise did not say much... Frank wasn't put off by it, though..." replied Michael openly. "But I'll keep my love life locked behind my bedroom door... So don't worry about me... I can work with everyone as long as there is respect on both sides..." That cleared the air up with the lunchroom ladies.

With butterflies in his stomach, Michael left Grunnings. Feeling that he could do no wrong there. The team had excepted the queer boy as one of their own. Walking past the shops on Main street Michael spotted a shop he wanted to visit later. It sold leather jackets, boots, and bags. It was aptly named The Leather BootBag. Not the biggest shop in town. But three rows of all kinds of jackets hung on racks on either side of the narrow building. Mike loved the butch manly leather jacket Brandon had given him. But it was a tad too macho to wear around fragile folk like Ellise Grunnings. Mike wanted something much planer that he could wear to work. A plain leather bomber jacket would suit him nicely.

Michael arrived at Chandan Shanker's salon. The door was locked, but the lights were on. So Mikey read the text on the shop window. It read in bold lettering: "Chandan's... Barber, Hairdresser, Tattoo and Piercing art." Judging by the look and feel of the shop, Mike could tell that this haircut would cost him a pretty penny. Because a notice read: "By appointment only, waiting time three months!..." 

The door swung open. Out billowed an extravagant Indian man. He was obviously homosexual, judging by the pride color beads knotted in his shoulder-length wavy brown hair. The ego was nearly too big to fit through the door, smirked Mikey to himself. Not a bad-looking person. Reasonably well built, nicely dressed too. Although, very camp. As Chandan greeted the boy. The limp hand he gave Michael told Mike everything he needed to know. Chandan was firmly in touch with his feminine side. And that was the only thing Michael disliked about the guy.

"Don't just stand there!... Come on in... Nice to see you... Come on in, darling!..." said the hairdresser. Dragging Mike from the street into the shop.
"Hello, sir..." stammered Michael, a little bewildered, "Nice place you got here... I am looking for a haircut... I saw we have to book in advance... But I don't have an appointment... sir..."
"Oh... so polite... Don't worry... I have nothing else to do today... 2 cancellations and 1 no-show... He won't be coming back..." chuckled Chandan, "You do need a lot of work..." With both hands running through Mike's hair, he muttered to himself for a while. Then twisting the boy around, he looked at the back of Michael's head. Taking a step back and quickly moving two steps forward again. 

The hairdresser lay his head over Mike's shoulder as he pressed his hips to the boy's bubble butt. Asking: "Does this make you uncomfortable, darling?..."
"A bit... Yes... sir... I am here for a haircut... I had not expected this..." stammered Mikey. Watching the hairdresser via one of the many mirrors.

"Well, don't be shy, son... I must be greatly mistaken if we're not all on the same team here... And I think you're ready for a full-body make-over... I do tattoos and piercing work as well... And I cut more than just the hair on your head... If you want... They do not call me Shanker for nothing, love!..." chuckled Chandan camply as he cupped a feel of the hot prick hiding shyly in Mike's office pants.

"What do you mean... sir?..." asked Mikey, disturbed. The boy was starting to feel a lot more uncomfortable by now.
"Ah... I must be mistaken if a cool cat like you doesn't want something tattooed or pierced as well... And... I do a mean little Back-Sack-and-Crack job... Even if I do say so myself, sweetheart... Although, the men I normally do are a tiny bit older and bigger than yourself... Uhmmm... Sorry... I have not introduced myself... Have I, darling?... I am Chandan Skanker, master hairdresser and tattoo artist extraordinaire!"

"Ah... Uhmmm... Hi, Michael J Cox... My friends call me Mikey Mike... sir... I am afraid that a nice little haircut will have to do, for now, sir..." replied Michael.
"Well, nothing little about that... But it's a start... Sure you don't like a tat or a piercing?..." Chandan said as he pushed the boy into a barber chair.
"Maybe an earring later... But I have no idea what I want..." said Michael. Feeling a little overwhelmed by now. Michael explained that he did not know what kind of haircut would suit him. He wanted some curls left on the top of his head. And maybe get some highlights or something to make the redness less obvious. 

"Stunning... Darling... We can do that... But no highlights... If anything, we need to go a little darker... It is just that the ends of your hair are bleached reddish by the sun... You are naturally medium brown... So a few darker and lighter brown curls, with tapered layers around your ears and neck, would accentuate the beautiful shape of your face... You should do modeling work!... You are gorgeous, darling..." explained Chandan excitedly.

"Sounds cool... What is this going to cost me?... I am on a bit of a budget... I have a house to buy from Roderick Steel later this week..." the Barber chuckled ominously as he heard Steel's name.
Chandan named his price indifferently, and the boy agreed to it. It was pretty expensive but well worth it, Michael thought. The two chatted as if they were old friends. Chandan even explained that he was in Steel's biker gang. He loved riding on the back of one of the other eighteen members. Mike was stunned to learn so many were in Roderick Steel's biker-friends group. And even more so when Chandan Skanker told him the men were all pretty rude alpha tops. 

Reducing the full head of thick reddish-brown hair took a little getting used to. But the effect was remarkable. As promised, the extra colors in Mike's hair and the short layered sides made Michael's face pop. It made him even look a little more mature.
Once the haircut was done, Chandan looked a little oddly at Michael in the mirror. Without warning, he jumped up and returned with two sets of identical button earrings. One in silver. The other was in black. The earrings had two intertwined circles engraved in them. The tattoo artist pulled a black earring out of the card and held it up to Michael's left ear. Whispering: "Suits you, Michael..."

Mike smiled, saying: "It does... But I think I would prefer the silver one... And in my gay ear..."
"Whoopsy... Are you out then?..." asked Chandan.
"Yup... Came out on my 16th birthday... And despite the issues this town has with hate groups... I don't mind standing up for who I am..." said Michael proudly.
"And so you should!... But you're taking an awful risk, Michael... Those idiots constantly try to scare my customers away if I don't pay them... The buzz is they caught the ringleader earlier today..." said Chandan Skanker happily.
"I know... I was at the T-Bone when they tackled the fool... Heck... I made the call to Sergeant Peterson myself!..." confirmed Michael. "But he's only one of the assholes... They still have to round up the rest of the skinheads..."

Chandan sterilized Mike's right ear and ruthlessly drove a wide syringe needle through the earlobe. Michael did not know what hit him. It was like someone took a bite out of his ear. But after the initial shock, the pain went away surprisingly quickly. The cold steel and some ointment did the rest.

"Now then... Darling... Follow me into the back... Let's mow the backyard..." laughed Chandan sneakily.
"You want to do what?... No way!... I... am... Hey now... I can take off my own pants... sir..." muttered Michael defiantly. Struggling against mister Skanker.
"Kid... shut up!... You'll thank me later... Let's get the hedge trimmer out... Oh, that's not so bad... Not bad at all... Nice ass, BOY!... Now spread them!... Let me in there... I have that crack smooth as a baby's butt in no time... And if you're a good boy, I'll give you a lolly to lick afterward if you like..." smirked Chandan in a totally different tone of voice. He went from soft-spoken and feminine to deep-voiced and brutally dominating in a heartbeat.

As Mike bent over on the massage table with his pants around his ankles, Chandan grabbed the eight-inch boy toy from behind. Enclosing the sack and shaft and pulling it harshly down. Mikey felt cold shaving cream get smeared between his buttocks. Followed by the sharp steel of a cut-throat razor. Even before the boy could protest, his butt was wiped clean, and two firm fingers penetrated his sacred spot. Chandan clearly knew what he was doing back there. This obviously wasn't his first rodeo. Quickly finding Mikey's prostate. Giving the boy's guts a complete workout. Yanking on the boy's dick with one hand and finger fucking his smoothly shaved hole open with the other.

This was all a bit much for the boy. Michael started leaking copious amounts of precum in seconds. And Chandan gobbled all the glorious juice up. Sucking on Mike's manhood from behind. Without so much as a friendly warning, Skanker stood up. Dropped his thin linen pants and shafted the boy hard and fast. Nailing Mikey rougher than even mister Steel had done earlier that day. But somehow, Michael loved it. Chandan wasn't hung. If anything, his light-brown dick was shorter and thinner than Mike's. But his technique was to die for. The Indian man plowed himself to a raging ecstasy with full deliberate strokes and short punctuated breaths.

Just before the moment supreme, Chandan pulled out and swiftly walked to the other side of the massage table. He lay a hand under Mike's chin and the other on top of his freshly cut curly hair. Feeding the beta-boy a hefty dose of Indian milk. Making sure that Mike had swallowed all of the man-juice before pulling the rapidly diminishing cock out. Smacking it limply against Mike's nose. Commanding Michael: "Lay on your back on the table, BOY!... Let's weed whack the front as well..." Giving Mikey no time to protest, he twisted the boy's legs onto the table and turned the well-screwed ass over.

Chandan hooked Mike's legs in the stirrups on the side of the table. Gruffly pulling the boy's legs apart. Asking: "Full wax... Or should I leave some pubes?..."
"Ha..." laughed Michael stunned. "Do I even have a choice in the matter?..."
"Not really... merely a formality..." grinned Chandan Skanker as he lathered up the nut sack and pubic area. "I think we can give it a bit of a styling reduction... You seem to take care of that quite well yourself... I don't like hairy coconuts..."

And again, the action was over before it had good and well started. This fucker was a true artist. How well he knew how to handle Mike's nether region became unmistakably apparent. After that shave and cleaning, Chandan gave Mikey a tantra blowjob that was out of this world. Edging the dude until he could not hold the explosion any longer. Injecting stream after hot and sticky stream directly into Chandan's esophagus. Gasping for breath and thrusting his hips upward. Throat fucking the rude hairdresser until Michael was absolutely spent. The boy had never come this hard, not once in his entire 23-year-old life. And the 32-year-old Indian Kamasutra artist loved every drop of it.

The men cleaned up and drank a small cup of tea. Spiked with a hefty shot of alcohol. Michael paid Chandan Skanker for the service and left. Leaving Chandan his new address and contact details. Making an appointment in four weeks with him.
A few moments in the fresh morning air, Michael realized what had happened to him. He got serviced in more ways than one. Quite brutally and without giving Chandan full permission. And yet, Mikey felt as cool as he looked. The new, much shorter haircut was terrific. Butch, youthful, and stylish. 

Walking across the street, Mike went straight to The Leather BootBag. He talked with the bearded Arabic-looking man, explaining the look of the jacket Mike wanted to buy. The dude smiled. Measured Michael and went all the way into the back. He returned with the exact jacket Mike had described to him. Saying: "This was handmade for someone else... It's one size too big for you, though, brother..."
"Ha... That's it... Let's put it on... Do you have a mirror?..." asked Michael beaming at the bearded macho.

"Sure..." he pointed Michael to the mirror next to the tiny changing rooms. The boy was instantly sold when the jacket sucked itself onto Michael's shoulders. "We made this for an older trucker... But he never collected this... So I'll give you a discount..." said the salesman.
"Gosh... That's nice... Thanks... It does suit me... And I can grow into it a little... Plain but sexy... Just like me... Do you know a good gym around here?... I am new in town..." grinned Michael to the Arabic salesmen.
"Try Hardy's... The gym on the business estate on the west side of town... You can't miss it..." The salesmen smiled as Michael paid the thirty percent he asked for the rejected black leather bomber jacket.

Cox walked back to the Grunnings diner for a cup of coffee. And to pick up his car. When Michael saw his reflection in a shop window, he thought: "Damn, that's a cool look, stud... You're no longer the boy... You, the man!..."
The ladies at the lunchroom seemed to agree. The boy got a bone-crushing hug from Martha Stewertson, one of the lunchroom ladies. "Dang, son... You do clean up nicely... Love that earring... It suits you, Michael..." she said motherly.
Secretly Mike had hoped to bump into Roy Peterson, the police sergeant. Just to hear the latest about the B I H gang. But figured that he would be busy. 

There were a few more things to buy. Mike wanted to visit the local Home Depot and Lowes. And get some much-needed groceries for his pantry. Maybe even drop by Hardy's gym to see if he could get a membership there. Michael had liked to look of the biker Hardy Simons. Michael saw the extreme bodybuilder washing his Harley in his kinky leather pants earlier. But then. Michael realized he enjoyed the look of any man wearing even the most straightforward leather gear. He smiled at himself. Stroking a hand over the plain supple sheepskin bomber that he sported now.

Home Depot and Lowes were at the same business park as Hardy's Gym. He parked his car in one of the large parking lots and bought himself a pressure washer and what seemed like half the supplies in the paint aisle, including an air compressor and a paint sprayer. Renting two fifteen-yard dumpsters to get rid of all the stuff the former tenants had left behind. It seemed they had left in rather a hurry. The fridge was still filled with 2-year-old food, and the garbage was dumped in the oddest places.

The only thing that was missing was a slightly better physique. Michael loved to get a bit broader in the shoulders and strengthen his core. But whatever he tried in high school and college, Mike did not seem to get any bigger. He became stronger but not much more muscular. So Cox walked inside Hardy's Gym to get a membership. Arriving at the sports school with a good feeling and a slightly sore ass. But upon entering, he was greeted coldly by the receptionist. A buff young lady in a bikini top and lycra training pants. At first, she tried to ignore Mike. But she looked at him when Michael did not go away. Muttering harshly: "Oh...It's you...Sorry, I don't have an appointment for you!..." 

"Ah... But you don't even know who I am..." Michael said in astonishment to the terse woman, "And I do have an appointment with Mr. Simons..." Okay, that was an outright lie. But Mike took the receptionist's attitude as highly unprofessional and rude. This was not the kind of customer service that the professors at college had taught him.

Michael heard Hardy Simons and Rick Steel talking in the distance. So he left the receptionist's desk and followed Hardy's voice. Mikey found the guy in conversation with Rick Steel, Vincent, Conner, and two others Michael did not know. He knocked politely on Hardy's open office door. Entering the place before being asked to do so. The five powerful men fell silent when the boy announced his unexpected presence. Followed by the flustered young lady from reception. "... I am sorry, mister Simons... This twat just walked past reception... I could not stop him!..." she said frustratedly.
"It's okay, Sandra... This is the perverted asshole Steel told you guys about... Are you here to beat up any more of us, BOY!..." half shouted Hardy at Michael.

Mike squinted his eyes. Who the hell was Simons to call Mike a boy as if he owned him? But Michael kept his cool. Looked unabashed around the room. These men were all very powerfully built, thought Mike as he politely beamed at them.
"What do you want, BOY?... Can't you see I am having a staff meeting?..." said an exceptionally furious mister Simons.

"Well, mister Simons... sir... I was wondering if you could train me up a bit... Your receptionist wasn't accommodating, so I thought I would go straight to the source..." replied Michael calmly. But still Hoping to find some support from either Conner or Vincent Kumsukba.
"That's obvious, but again, BOY... What do you want, BOY... What are you looking for?... Do you want some cardio... or a full bodybuilder-look, BOY?..." said Hardy gruffly.
Clearly not giving a shit about what the boy actually wanted. He just wanted that kid gone. Hardy Simons had his answer ready for Michael. And Mike knew it. So he said: "Ah... Sorry... I miss understood... I would love some core body strength and endurance training... And maybe get me to grow my arms and pecs as well... But it seems like I caught you at a bad time... So I better find a different gym where I can train instead!..." said Michael carefully. But staring Hardy down anyway. Mike could see Hardy thinking. 

Vincent said happily: "Sure, I would love to train you, Michael..." But Hardy Simons gave him a quelling negative look.
The gym owner pressed a button on the intercom and half-shouted: "Sergeant, get your ass in my office!... a.s.a.p."
The biggest, buffest, and meanest-looking brick shithouse marched himself into Hardy's office on the double. Dressed in brown combat boots and army sportswear. This guy had muscles bulging in places ordinary men did not have any. This powerhouse was easily the most muscular man Mikey had seen. Probably an ex-marine, judged Michael by his outfit. The thing was, Mike just smiled friendly at the guy. Wondered what was wrong with his hair. A lot of spiky hair up top and nothing around the back and sides. The dude looked like a toilet brush to Mikey.

Hardy Simons had clearly called him in to intimidate the five-foot-seven boy. But Michael - to the apparent surprise of Hardy - stood his ground. Helped by the fact that Vincent called out: "Hey now!... I would love to train our neighbor myself!..."
What happened next was just too much for Michael, though. Hardy said to the guy he called Sergeant: "So this little bullying homo wants to be turned into a fucking bulldog... Show him the gym and work his sorry ass... Maybe that will set him straight..." said Hardy Simons. 

Rick Steel butted in, saying: "But be careful, Serge... Don't call him BOY, or that little dominating pervert will cave your teeth in!... Cox here thinks he's all that... Knocking the stuffing out of me with his brass knuckles... You need to be taught some respect, BOY!..."

Stunned, Michael glanced over at Conner. He just lifted his shoulders. As much to say as: "I can't help you, bro..." With wide eyes and raised eyebrows, Mike looked at his neighbor Vincent. Vinney gave him an apologetic look as well. Clearly, Vincent was just as baffled by Hardy's outburst as Michael was.
Regaining his composure, Mike harshly said to the people in the office: "This little homo, am I?... Softy Simons, you don't know what you're talking about... It's clear that you have made the wrong ass-sumptions about me... Probably helpt by the lies Rapist Steel told of our encounter this morning... Haven't you, Steely?... Do I really need to get the police involved?... Softy Simons, don't stick your dick in places it does not belong!..."

"Look..." said Steel, abashed... "I said I was sorry... I admitted I was wrong... I wanted to make it up to you, but you slammed the door in my face... Little prick!..."
Hardy Simons started to say something like Michael was lying. But Vincent jumped off the office couch and bellowed: "We fuck'n heard Steel abuse the boy... Michael has nothing to do with those skinheads... And you know it!... So don't you start lying to us... I've had enough, Simons... I am out... Come on, Cox... I'll train you myself..."

This stunned the gym owner into silence. It was his plan to intimidate young mister Cox into total submission. Making Mikey the plaything that Hardy perceived him to be. Hardy Simons had not expected his plan to backfire this badly. He was actually a little impressed by Michael J Cox now. Hardy Simons had assumed the boy would crumble and beg. But Michael showed Simons, Steel, and the rest his worth. He wasn't even acting the tough guy. He knew he was right. Saying to Vincent: "No... That's okay, Vinney... You stay here... Thanks for the offer... But I will find myself another gym..." 

Michael meant to turn around and leave. But that brick shithouse of a man they called Sergeant blocked his way. "Softy Simons... This toilet brush is in my way... Call off your junkyard dawg..." Well, that could have gone very badly. The Sergeant was at least three times more muscular than Michael. But the big fellow just grinned impressively at the boldness of the young college dude. Stepping aside for him and Vincent.

"Shit, bro..." said Vincent once they were outside. "Do you have a death wish?..." But he laughed while he said it. "Nice jacket, by the way... New?... And I love what you've done with the hair... Oh, and a butch earring too... Things are looking up... Aren't they, bro?..."
"Thanks, Vinney... But I simply can't stand people who make stupid comments like that, Softy Simons... Assuming Steel was correct and I was wrong... Calling me a little homo... A bully... Abusing my ass without thinking of the consequences... Oh god... I am so angry I want to kick someone's face in..." said Michael as the two twinky neighbors walked together toward their cars.

"I know that feeling, bro ... It's been a long time coming... I just needed a good excuse to leave that gym..." said Vinney Kumsukba angrily.
"But what about Con-man?..." asked Michael.
Vincent explained that he and his brother also worked at Hardy's nightclub, the Galaxy. Conner was a DJ there but started his own music production company. Vinney seemed to use the club to hustle. Picking up well-paying customers. He told Mikey he could make a couple of thousand dollars a weekend there. Hoping the Galaxy would open back up soon. 

When Michael asked why the club had closed, Vincent explained: "Those skinhead hooligans put a stop to the operation... I do hope it can open soon, though... My dick has been missing its sugar daddies..." Vincent saw Mikey's jaw drop. "But you kiddo... can have all of me for free... Any time, anywhere..."
Michael just grinned bashfully and muttered: "Really?..."
"Yeah, of course... Just drop by if you need to borrow a cup of my... Uhmmm... sugar..." grinned Vinney, dirty.
"I'll keep you to that... It's a date... See you, Vinney... I got to get home..." replied Michael as they stopped next to his car.

Michael had hoped to park his car inside one of the garages. He had not been in there yet. So the sight that greeted him astonished Mike. Both garage bays were loaded with possessions from the old tenants. Mostly junk and garbage that Steel's men had moved down there to sell the house. But Michael also saw gym equipment hiding underneath. 

What Mike found in the other bay was even more surprising. Sure, Michael knew about the garden equipment. Steel had told him he would find some in the garages. But with these things, he could start his own lawn care business. And that was not all. It also had a full workshop along the back of the garage block. Stacked with every tool imaginable. Mike could kick himself. He wished he would have looked in here before buying all the DIY equipment. He laughed and thought: "Oh well, at least you have a back-up now..."

But the biggest surprise was still to come for young mister Cox. Half hidden among all the boxes, he saw a motorbike. His favorite kind of bike. The one Mike had been dreaming about since his early childhood. A custom black 750cc Yamaha dirt bike. But this one had been tricked out with all kinds of extras. It had a bigger gas tank, and the motor block had received several upgrades as well. Even standing still, it looked fast. This, frankly, was every boy's wet dream. On the wall beside it hung a lot of army green work gear and black leather biker clothes. And a rack of all kinds of rugged boots. 

Mike stripped off and put on a two-piece biker combo. The pants had zips from front to back. The jacket had all kinds of protective pads. He strapped on some tough dirtbike boots and a helmet and sat on the bike. Sticking the key in the ignition, the motor revved into life. Opening the zip, Michael started to stroke one out. Banging his rock-hard dick on the gas tank. Fapping it hard. Until Michael's stomach gave a rumble. Mike put his boy toy away and continued to empty his car. Making his bed with the newly bought sheets and duvet. He put the stuff he bought for the kitchen in their place and dumped the rest into the garage. He undressed and jumped in the shower to wash off the grime of today's adventures. Full well knowing that the day wasn't over yet.

Mike got dressed in the leather pants Steel had bought for him. Brandon's flat-nosed boots and one of Mike's gray hoody vests. The hoody had a macho tribal tattoo print. Overall, thought Michael, he should be commended for the new look. He felt as butch as he looked. Just in the couple of weeks since he left college, he had changed from a good-looking boy into a buff-looking man. This suited Mike just fine. So far, all the men he had met out here were big, strong, and pig-headed. And this new sexy look made Michael blend in well.

Mike jumped in his car. He headed back to the T-Bone. Wanting to try their famous T-Bone steak platter. And show off his new look to Tomas Johnson. The virile-looking owner of the truck stop, who fucked Mikey's brains out last night. Wanting to talk with him about today's adventures. The attack by Steel, The meeting with Vincent and Conner Kumsukba. The new contract with Grunnings and the rough sex with the Indian hairdresser Chandan Skanker. 

Mike laughed to himself. He thought he might want to limit the number of men that used his ass. Feeling that he had had more sex in the last couple of days than in the past year at college. Still, who was Michael to complain? Apart from a couple of exceptions, he loved every second of it. And even those exceptions weren't as bad as they could have been. Thought Mike, as he screeched to a halt outside the T-Bone restaurant.

Michael J Cox strolled casually inside and got greeted warmly by the truckers he met this morning. One even stuck out a fist. Mike gave the brawny-looking man a fist bump and a smile. He spotted Tomas helping some customers at one of the booths. Mike made a b-line for him and beamed as their eyes met. He had meant to give Tomas a bro-hug. A group of nearby regulars had already started a chant. Calling: "Floor show... Floor show..." Expecting the two hot-looking twinks to hug and kiss. But Tomas stepped back and just chook Mike's hand instead. He moved away to the other side of the busy restaurant to take another order.

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael spotted the head chef. The man gestured for Mike to come into the kitchen. Mike did so, and Peter told him: "Since you left, Tomas dropped into a deep black hole again, Michael... He has been sulking all day... Do try to cheer him up if you can, Mike..." The chef rang the order bell and called to the front-of-house waiters: "Table 3 is up..." When no one replied, Mike threw on an apron, grabbed the platters, and delivered the food himself. This was to the absolute pleasure of the chef.

Tomas saw Michael working the tables. Picking up empty glasses and taking drinks orders. He gave Mike a friendly nod, and once the customers were served, he walked over to Mike. "Thanks for the help, man... But you don't have to do that..." said Tomas, a little abashed.
"Hey... How else can I pay for my dinner?..." laughed Michael.
"Oh... I can think of a few-... No... I should not... I... Uhmmm... We... Mike... We need to-..." stuttered Tomas. Tiers were welling up in his eyes.

"Let's go in the back... I guess you're trying to tell me something... I want to hear it... But you have to calm down a sec, bro... I have some things to tell you too... But that can wait..." said Mike as he hooked a pinky finger on Tomas's.
The men walked into Tomas's apartment. Mike placed Tomas on the bed. Grabbed a chair and sat right across from him. "Wassup?... Not feeling all that well?... Talk to me, T-man..."

Tomas explained that his feelings were all screwed up. The sex the two twinks had last night brought up all kinds of twisted emotions. On the one hand, he was happy. But on the other, he felt utterly guilty. Mike did not understand a word until Tomas started to cry and showed a video of a badly burned guy in the hospital. Mike put his hands into Tomas's, and Tomas explained: "That was my boyfriend... You reminded me so much of him last night... I... He... Robert Preston was... Oh fuck... What have I done?... I don't want you to get hurt too, Michael..."

"Ah... But it's okay, Tommy... I think I understand now..." said Mike as he got up, pulling Tomas off the bed. Giving the sad stud the hug he deserved. After Tomas calmed down, Michael said: "One thing... Tommy... I am not here to replace that Robert... No one can... I guess he was the one you rescued after the fire attack?..." Tommy nodded and started to cry again. Mike just gave him an extra firm squeeze. "It's okay, buddy... I am not going to leave you... I need a good fuck buddy if you want the job?... But one thing Tom... Don't dwell on the bad things that happened... Think of all the great sex Robert and you used to have... The fun memories will keep him alive... He must have wanted you to be happy..."

Tomas Johnson tilted his head like a puppy and thought for a second. Then he said quite composed: "Oh... Shit... Your right, Mike!... I was stupid... But I don't want you to get hurt too..."
"That's okay... But you can't live in fear all your life... You got to take it as it comes... Now dry your tears... Give me a kiss... And let's serve those bastards out there some food and drink... After the rush hour, we can get it on back here... Maybe fuck around a little... I've got loads to tell you too... I have to leave before morning, though... I found a new house, but it's in bad shape..." said Mike warmly. The two men started to play a fierce game of tonsil hockey. Groping and stroking each other. Tomas spotted the new earring and Michael's much shorter haircut. He tried to congratulate Mike. 

But Michael had other ideas. He unzipped and worked his cock and balls free of the leather jeans. Revealing the stiff member, after Mikey had removed the T-Bone's apron. He pressed the alpha top, Tomas, to his knees and ordered: "Suck it!... You can do with a mouth full... It always calms me down... Have at it, Tommy... Suck me dry, quick..." Tomas lustfully sucked on Mike's eight manly inches. Kissing the macho leather and sucking the balls of his new fuck buddy. Grunting and whispering: "Fuck, this is nice... But we really need to feed those truckers out there too... I do hope we can pick up where we left off later, though... I want to hear about your day, baby..."

"Ha... I hope you're in the mood for more horror stories..." laughed Mikey. As both men walked back to the restaurant. Mike helped clear tables after he had the best meal he had ever enjoyed. And afterward, Tomas asked Michael in front of the rest of the staff: "Want my dessert?..." The kitchen staff laughed as they saw Tomas drag Mike into the back. They knew what kind of dessert Tomas Johnson would serve Michael. It was well past one when Mike said goodbye to Tommy, heading for a well-deserved rest in his own bed.

< Continued in chapter 5 >

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And if your hands are not too dirty from all the spunk! ;-)

(C) StrykerJ - 09-2022