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" 04 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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At the morn's early light, shining through the custom blinds of his room, Michael awoke. As usual, his hand lay in the vicinity of his crotch, on his right thigh. All it took was a slight move to detect his cock. So easy to touch, it was all ready for one of two things. Michael gave up a long time ago, thinking why he had to piss or for whatever reason it was he had to stroke his cock into oblivion, shooting his wad. Sitting on the side of his bed, he started to get up. It's then he realized he wasn't ready to empty his morning piss.
Lying back down, his right hand went right for his barrel, the other hanging loose, today flat on his stomach. It was one of his favorite places for `feeling himself'. A thin coating of hair already covered his chest, barely visible to the naked eye, but something else, the minute stripe from midchest, down to his navel could be more to feel up than see, but there was something there. Then, the dark, thin strip acted like it entered his deep bellyhole and exited the other side. Eventually, when it hit to top of his pubes, the place right above where the elastic held up his briefs, it fanned out. Michael always marveled how a guy's pubes, at least his own, at sixteen came in darker and more profound than anyplace else on the body, below the neck. That's with the exception of his armpits. When he lifted each pit up, noticing for the first time he had tufts of hair there, is when he took notice of how dark his bod hair was most likely going to sprout.
With his hand stroking his cock, he at first wondered why he was so horny.
Snapping his fingers, he thought out loud, `I betcha it's the Savage kid!'
When Michael thought about and made his sweet comment about Dean, he realized it now how true his comment to himself. As he stroke, he pictured an innocent face looking up at him. His left hand was playing with his stomach trail. When he thought about Dean getting surprised Michael giggled out loud. But then he had to get serious again, wanting to `build' the moment, stroking onward. Sometime during the year he hoped to catch Dean in the shower, seeing what he was packing in those swimming trunks.
Michael stopped stroking, thinking a thought. `Maybe that's why he's so shy?'
He thought about Dean's package. Maybe it was this tiny little thing? It didn't matter. For now, Michael was taking things as they are. He stroked away, going on his original thoughts. When he came, his 7.5c shot out a nice load. Being adventurous, he scooped a little of it off his stomach and tasted it.
`Honey-sweet!' he thought.
Was it sweet-tasting because he build up to his orgasm, thinking of Dean Savage? For now, it's the reason he was guessing. He savored another fingerful. His alarm clock going off made him wipe his hand off on his stomach, before touching the clock. Another development flooded Michael's mind. This is the first time he beat his alarm clock awake!
Hopping up, it was pissing time, then shower. With unusual haste, he got ready for school. When he saw his social studies book lying on his desk, he thought of Dean. This was unusual for Michael to think of only one particular guy. He himself wondered about it. He stuffed it in his bookbag, he proceeded to get ready.
As he thumbed over the tops of the hangers, in his closet, he wondered which shirt would interest Dean, catch his eye. He picked the orange A&F polo, with what looked like a careless painter, flicking white spots on the front of it.
`I sure hope Dean likes orange!'
Then he spotted almost the identical shirt, in blue. After stripping the orange shirt, he donned the blue.
From downstairs, he heard Raj, the butler knock on his door, call out, "Time for breakfast, Master Michael."
"Okay," Michael yelled, followed by, calling his name, "Oh Raj?"
Pulling the door open, he asked Raj's advice, "Do you think I look better in orange or blue?"
"You know which color I prefer, sir!"
"Come on Raj."
Nobody in the house, except Raj, knew of Michael's peculiar' ways. It's one of the things keeping their friendship tight'. Raj knew all about being gay, becoming sort of a mentor for the sixteen year old.
"Is he special to you?"
"I think he's going to be," Michael replied.
"Try the blue. The orange is a little splashy, pardon the pun!"
Michael laughed anyway. Leaving the door open, Michael allowed Raj the view of him throwing the shirt over his shoulders, donning his jeans.
"Anytime you want to come in and watch, you can, Raj!"
"Oh no you don't. I don't do little boys."
"I'm sixteen!" Michael replied, defending his teenaged status.
"Still, I stay on this side of the door ledge until your eighteenth birthday." Then, as done a million times before, the twenty-six year old butler leans in and jokes, "On that day I'm gonna fuck the hell outta ya!"
Ever since Raj came into his family's employ, two years ago, Michael had always wondered why Raj `knew' about him, yet his mom and dad never said anything. Oh yes, they have spoken at times about someone they knew whom was gay, but not too favorably. On the other hand, Michael found he could talk to Raj as if a big brother. Being an only child it's something Michael missed and something Raj loved being.
"Are you really going to fuck me?"
Smiling, Raj retorted with his favorite answer, "Of course not! You're going to do me!"
They laughed, but Michael wondered how true or false the answer would turn out. He had two years before finding out!
There was one `promiscuous' thing Raj did though. Recently, as Michael left for school, Raj would look around, making sure no one was looking, take Michael's chin in his hand and place a kiss on his cheek.
"Don't forget to kiss your new boyfriend!"
"How do you always know stuff like that, Raj?"
"Trade secret. Bring him home someday so I can F-fa... I mean `meet' him?"
Michael wasn't totally dumb. He knows why Raj always ends jokes strangely. For several months now, he's had an inkling about Raj's status. Not the class thing. He's thought of Raj as a top. Over quite a few wet dreams, Michael has wondered about his eighteenth birthday!
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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.