The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. % Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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"For The Love Of Michael" 03 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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That night, in his room, Dean raced through his social studies book, searching for his mind to latch onto an idea. He knew the subject needed to do with something ethnic about any society of peoples, native to the United States. Native Americans hit him, part of the notes he had taken down from the blackboard, during class time. For all due purposes, it was all Dean needed to segregate and jot down. With social studies out of the way, he could move on to english. Eleventh grade English dealt with The American Dream'. From all perspectives, the only American Dream' Dean could think about is `Michael'!
With recollection, he lay there on his bed, thinking about how mean Jim Hart could be with him, which took all of thirty-five seconds. But when it came to thoughts with Michael, he took his time recalling thoughts of him as Michael's lithe body cut through the small, choppy waves of the gym swimming pool, the kind way in which he spoke, his little smile in the lockerroom. Another big discovery occurred when, at the end of his reverie, he found his hand wrapped around his own dick, mildly stroking it!
Then thoughts began flooding into his thinking center. He wondered if Michael got hard like himself. And, if he did get hard, how big was he? Next thoughts to enter his mind, he wondered how it would feel to get dicked' by Michael. He's often read about it, except it was called getting fucked'. He's seen pictures on the internet of some guy get plowed by another guy's dick. It looked' like the guy getting dicked, likened to the idea of getting dicked. Dean then got an idea. His finger surely wasn't as wide as any guy's dick. Maybe he could try a little experiment. Entering the private jon, attached to his very own room, Dean made sure it was locked. He took down his shorts and briefs, letting them lie at his ankles. Bending over he tried finding his own asshole, with his index finger. Being a lean swimmer, it wasn't tough to keep balance, bend in half and reach around behind himself. First time anything's been there, except toliet tissue, meant for another purpose, it felt weird'. He pressed the tip of his finger a little beyond the opening. Right away the sixteen year old withdrew it.
`Wow'! came his only reaction.
Spreading his legs, he almost fell over. So, Dean stepped out of both circles, composed of his shorts and briefs. With a more widespread gap, he found he could be more flexible, reaching into his ass crevice.
`Ouch'.
This time, pressing beyond the tip of his finger hurt. He wondered why it just didn't slip in. Then it occurred to him. When he peeled an orange, sometimes his thumb slipped right on in because the juices squished out. He needed something juicy, to grease up his asshole. A lot of options were available; toothpaste, quickly nixed because he knew it might burn. Next was deoderant. It wasn't pliable enough, but the next item would surely be a great advantage, he thought, shampoo. Squeezing a fingerful onto the tip of his index finger, he spread it around, utilizing his thumb.
`Here goes', he thought.
Bent over, feeling around, his fingertip approximated where his ass hole should be. Finding it, he depressed his finger. It slipped right in. Once in, Dean had a great time feeling the inside, til he touched `something'.
`Ewwwieeeee'! he exclaimed, semi-outloud!
When he pulled his finger out, it had a light brown stain to it. So, his adventures in his ass region came to a close.
Back, lying down, he again drew on recollections of Michael. This time he pictured Michael having a skinny dick, about the size of his finger, moving it up to his ass. Like an out-of-body experience, he watched Michael, his voice calm, instructing him to bend over the sink in the jon. Watching, he saw Michael tilt his own bottle of shampoo, greasing up the thin barrel. Suddenly, he became aware of stroking his own cock. It became one with Michael entering his asshole, pressing his dick in, even with the stroking pattern. His own hips bucking, he pretended Michael bucked his hips, sending his dick in and out of his ass. When he came, his teen jizz shooting out, he pictured Michael's jizz, soaking the inside of his body.
`Wow'!
Settling down, Dean noticed the front of his shirt, dead center, middle of the chest, all sweaty, along with his armpits. Some of the white, milky jizz was in his navel, a coupla small puddles on his shirt.
`Wow! I shot all the way up here?'
Looking down, some white driplets lay near the bottom of his chin.
That sure was some dicking'!
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2B continued...
Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.