Sorry that this took so extraordinarily long to produce- I've been a bit busy with moving, an accident, starting a new job and trying to get life organized and simplified. Thanks to everyone who kept emailing me to check up on me- I'm very grateful that you thought of me at all. Here is Chapter 11 to Kiss of Life- Hope that you enjoy. Any comments can be sent to Nonimouse440@hotmail.com. Thanks again!
-NM
Kiss of Life Chapter 11
"Please... save me...I don't want to be alone..." a whisper that softly quivered its way into the otherwise silent room. It flickered through the room, losing strength and speed as it moved away from its origin. By the time it reached the ears of the sleeping dog, it was just a puff of air, and beyond him, it faded into nothingness. It was far too weak to arrive at its intended destination, the ears of a certain young Detective John Anderson, not all 6'4", 230lbs of his stunning physique. Only the parts that lead to about the 4 lbs of gray and white matter in his body that mattered the most- the part of him that enabled him to be quick, be wise... to love... to be a hero to a certain young Mr. Michael Dana.
But when all one does is whisper, chances of being saved become very slim. No one rescues the quiet man lost at sea...
Already broken through the clouds, the sun's rays reached down to the troubled face of one Michael Dana, contorted in the misery of his dream. He was alone- alone and trapped in a windowless room with nothing but a table and a chair. And he could hear, just outside the walls, a warm strong voice that he recognized, speaking with someone else. A sliver of fear streaked down his spine, and he realized what was about to happen- his savoir was about to get away. And as he heard the voice receding away from him, he whispered over and over again, "please...save me... I don't want to be alone... please save me... please don't go and leave me... please..." Tears rolled down his sleeping face, and he woke, with the words, "save me" sighing from between his lips. As he lay there, he burst into tears, remembering the confinement of the dream- the feeling of doom that trapped him into near inaudibility.
Across town a certain Detective John Anderson, still asleep and naked beneath his sheets, suddenly sat bolt upright and reached for his telephone. He was in between the land of sleep and consciousness. In the haze of his semi-alertness, he was only aware of an urgency to...well... reach out and touch someone... His fingers dialed the numbers, and he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to contact until the person on the other end of the line picked up.
"Hello?" the sound of a concealment in progress- trying to hide tears that painted the voice like a blank canvas. John was not fooled.
"Why are you crying, Michael?" His voice was gruzzled, an indication of his post-sleep status.
"...John?!" Mike couldn't believe it- John's voice on the telephone??
"You're not answering my question? You know what- I'm coming over to ask it in person. Don't move" and just like that he was gone. Mike couldn't even respond for a few moments. Joe had awoken, and shook himself. He was already thinking about his morning walk, and checking the map of his territory in his mind. He stood wagging his tail by the bedroom door, and when Mike still hadn't moved, he let out a loud woof to get his attention. Mike started, and looked towards the doorway and his beloved friend. He beamed, suddenly elated- John was coming over. It was time to get up then. He shifted himself out of bed, and into some sweat pants and a grungy tee shirt- he might as well go for a morning jog while Joe went out.
John got himself up out of bed. He looked down at his morning wood, throbbing proudly in the slightly chilled morning air. He stroked his cock, looking down at it lovingly. He wanted to share it with Michael so much. He wanted to present it to Michael- an offering to his temple for him and him alone. But for now, he'd have to settle for imagining Michael's tight, hard ass settling down over his thick shaft- gliding into that sweet honey hole of dark, shuddering pleasure. He closed his eyes, and leaned back against his headboard, his legs splayed and his hand traveling up and down his hard cock. His hand kept at it, the dark of his mind a perfect projection screen for the golden naughtiness of his thoughts. Michael's face, lips open in a ceaseless "O" of rapture and pain-pleasure, his eyes oscillating between wide and contorted with an expression almost like torture. Himself, on top of Michael, pumping into him, making him breathless with that deep-down tickle of an impending orgasm. And then, his own nearing climax, his rod thickening to an almost painful breaking point, the mini tremors and then a great roaring surge, almost as loud as his own grunting gasp and his release, the smell of his sperm cutting through the air as giant ropes of cum spilled out and up onto his chest, pooled on his stomach, and coated him with his own manly juices. He sighed, and squirmed with a satisfied smile on his lips, eyes still closed. He wished that Michael could see him, naked and soaked in his essence, and all for the man he wanted in his life more than anything else. He shook his head- he at least now had legitimate reason to shower....
John and Joe set out at a good pace, both enjoying the rush of cool air that flew past their faces. It was a clear morning, bright blue and golden yellow- just the way they both liked it. Mornings like this made Mike feel most alive- as though everything were fine. If he could capture a feeling, bottle it, and live off of it forever, it'd be the feeling of a brisk morning jog with Joe... or perhaps a brisk morning romp with John... He had to stop thinking of John at the moment- he hadn't worn underwear beneath his sweat pants, and his piece was rudely flopping around as it was- the added heft of a semi-plump sausage was not something that he wanted to draw attention to himself. But then again... the thought of John's hard cock pressing up against his ass... the thought of it sliding into his satiny chute... the thought of John finding pleasure inside of him, thrusting uncontrollably and reaching orgasm through Mike as a vessel... he boned up hard instantly... AND it was VERY noticeable. He ran on, shudders running through him as his cock head bounced against the cotton fabric of his bulky sweatpants with every jouncing step he took. He doubled over, and could take it no longer- he had to find relief.
Looking to his left he saw a grove of trees on the shoulder of the road, and made a beeline for them, nearly choking Joe in the process. Once he got to the trees, he wound his way deeper into the grove, and emerged at the edge of what appeared to be a clearing in the grove. He unleashed Joe, who darted off, excited to be free, and then yanked down his own sweat pants and grabbed his dripping prong. He threw back his head and moaned, pulling at his cock, totally engrossed in himself. His body shuddered and he threw his head back as his balls contracted within their sac, his hand already coated generously with pre-cum. He held his breath let out a low guttural grunt as his orgasm overtook him, and thick gobs of cum flew up into the air and landed on the ground before him.
Standing against the tree, he shuddered as a breeze gently fingered his shoulders and kissed the fine layer of sweat that coated his perspiring body. Weak, he reached for his sweat pants and pulled them slowly back up his muscular thighs, over his tight, aching buttocks, and finally over his semi-plump, red and still cum-oozing cock. He bent over double, inhaled one last time, and hauled himself up to call for his dog. "JOE!!" he hollered into the grove. A resounding woof echoed back to him, and soon his pooch was jouncing out of the wood, tongue lolling about, pretending not to notice the obvious odor of man-spunk around his master's feet. He knew at this point to ignore it- after his first few experiences with the weird smelling and definitely weird tasting stuff. In fact, he remembered his first time encountering his master's... well, "scent." He was a wee puppy, and one day he'd nosed his way into his master's bedroom while he was asleep. He was on the bed, naked and... he smelled peculiar- somehow stronger than usual. Joe climbed into the bed, and put his nose down to his master's belly. The smell that usually emanated from his crotch was here all over his belly- and it stood out quite starkly in contrast against his tanned skin. Joe nosed it cautiously, not sure what it would feel like. It felt a little slimy against his nose, and so he decided that it was safe enough to give it a lick test. He began to lick his master's belly, tasting the slimy substance that was there... which was about when Michael woke.
"JOE! What in the HELL are you doing?! Get off of me! And stop licking up my JIZZ you dumb DOG!" Joe scampered away, tail between his legs, still licking at his muzzle to get his master's... "scent" off of him. It was so weird- he decided it was definitely not something that he wanted to stick his nose into again. But of course, being a puppy, he forgot from time to time, and ended up nose down in the same situation a couple more times. And each time, one would think that Mike would just learn to wipe up his jizz afterwards...
The two cohorts got themselves together and returned to the road to continue their jog. By the time they arrived back at Mike's apartment, a familiar black Volvo was sitting in the parking lot, with a well built, handsome, tall man sitting-standing on the hood. Mike beamed, squealed and darted across the parking lot. He flew into John's open arms, and planted a deep tongue kiss across his lips. They stood there for a few minutes, dog sniffing around both of their feet, looking up occasionally, patiently waiting to be noticed. When he understood that the two men only had eyes for one another at that time, he set about to get in on some of the action by doing some planting of his own. He planted his bottom down onto John's foot, slapping his leg with a wagging tail. He looked up, an expression of innocent joy dancing across his muzzle.
John tore his eyes away from Mike's face, and looked down to Joe. He laughed, and reached down with one hand, keep the other firmly wrapped around Mike's waist, and patted the dog on the head. It was good enough- Joe accepted, and turned his attention elsewhere.
"Do you want to go inside, darling?" John asked. He looked up to the balcony, where Widow Green was shuffling her way over to the sliding glass doors.
"Geez you boys need to get a room! At your age you go at it 4, 5 times a day and still come back for more! Mr. Green, God rest his soul, used to come after me even if I was sitting on the toilet to pee! I used to say, 'Albert! I'm taking a piss! Let me wipe my cunt, for fuck's sake!' Would he... boys? Boys? I swear, you think the two of you never seen a cock before, running after each other like that! You come visit me, ya hear!"
By the time the two of them reached Mike's apartment, John, choking with his own laughter, had turned purple. Mike, already having burst out laughing, was gasping and had developed a bluish tint.
"While she sat down to pee?! Oh grief- I'm kind of sad I didn't get a chance to meet the old coot! HA! Do you think we'll have stories like that for our neighbors in 50 years?" John laughed, and then looked to Mike's face. Mike pulled John inside the door and closed it behind him.
"I'm sure we'll have plenty of our own stories to share with neighbors, kids and family for years to come," Mike said, laughingly. John grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop.
"I'm serious, Michael" John said quietly. Mike looked into John's eyes, and saw something there that he wanted so very much. He saw his salvation in John's eyes- precious safety... and his fear doubled up on him so sharp that his vision narrowed, everything crowded out by a black veil of anxiety.
"John... please... I... I want..." but he couldn't get it out. To say it- to admit it- he knew what he wanted, but he knew the price. It wouldn't be cheap. He'd have to lay his soul down on the line- risk the rejection, the depression, the suicidal thoughts. That was a check he just wasn't sure he had the emotional currency to cash. But if it went well- if John took him... what if?
"Michael... I don't know why, but I got the urge this morning to call you- I don't know why, but I wanted to be here with you- be here with you like nothing else in this world. There's so much I want to share with you- so much of me that I want you to have. I don't want to push you... I just... can I spend some time here? With you? Do you mind?" Mike just stared at him, open mouthed. Did he hear right? That John wanted to spend the day with him? Something close to fear ran trough his body, and he had to calm himself down before he could respond.
"Uhm... yes... you can spend the day here... or however long you want... I'm sure Joe can keep you busy if you run out of things to do... I just have some paperwork that needs to get done today that I can fax into the office from here... uhm..." he turned away. What he wanted more than anything was to see his sexy detective butt naked and engrossed in something, completely oblivious to being mentally devoured by Mike's hungry eyes.
" I don't really have anything that I need to get done today... if I'm going to be in your way, I can leave... I don't want to..."
"NO! you're not going anywhere! Take off your... shoes... and just relax. Have a beer, turn on the television, play with the dog, but give me an hour and a half and I'll be ready for you. Just... don't leave me... please?" Mike looked into his detective's eyes, and bit his lip. John's face broke out into a warm smile, and he scooped Mike off of the floor and into a tight hug.
"I wouldn't leave you for the world, Michael Dana..." He whispered into Mike's ear, and turned into his face to share a passionate kiss whilst Mike's feet dangled in the air, toes pointed downward. To anyone gazing in on this scene, it would have appeared that Mike was dancing on air, sharing this kiss with his prince charming.