Michael and I

Michael and I, part 1 by Jim Foster

The bus lurched forward on ancient wheels, its frame creaking and groaning as we headed west across the city. They always used the old-model electric buses for the midday routes, probably because they carried fewer passengers and, if one broke down, would inconvenience fewer people. The bus I was on was probably making good time, given the noon-hour traffic and narrow streets. But with my heart fluttering and my stomach tense, to me it felt like we were barely inching along.

I'm never going to make it to Michael and Nate's, I thought.

Instantaneously, I felt a pang of guilt mixed with a pulse of pleasure. I was going to Michael and Nate's house, but Nate wouldn't be there. Just Michael... Michael and I.

I didn't want my time with Michael to be rushed. Officially, I only had my lunch hour free. But, I'd managed to slip out of work about 15 minutes early. Heading back, I could also probably be about 10 minutes late before anyone noticed. So, we had a little over an hour to be together. I'd immediately caught a bus outside of the lab where I work, and I figured the ride would take at least 10 minutes to get to my stop. But so far, it was taking 15. The delay made me more nervous, largely because it compounded the sense of anticipation that I'd been keeping locked up inside of me.

After all, Michael and I had been talking about this for more than a year. And now, we were finally acting.

Michael works for a tech company out in the suburbs. But he and his husband live relatively close to my lab, just one creaking midday bus ride away. Late last week, Michael let me know that, due to some renovations at his office, he'd be working from home the coming week.

"Maybe you could come over during your lunch hour on Monday," he had texted me.

I sent a two-word reply: "I will."

Michael and I had met through his husband. Over the years, I'd gotten to know them pretty well. We were all gay nerds who worked too much and worked out too little. We would get together occasionally, sometimes with my boyfriend Kent, and talk about politics, science fiction, books, life. At some point, Nate, the more extroverted of the pair, hinted that he and Michael were attracted to me and wouldn't mind having a threeway with me. I'd been flattered, and more than a bit interested. But Kent and I had been going through a rough patch at the time, and I wanted to devote my attention to my relationship with him. Nate and Michael understood, and we left it at that.

But over the years, through texts and occasional gettogethers, Michael and I had gotten to know each other better and better. We discovered a connection, which developed quickly into a spark.

The driver interrupted my reminiscence about Michael.

"Quarry Street," she said. "Next stop, Quarry Street."

I pulled the cord and grabbed my coat and bag. My heart was pounding.

I was the only passenger to get off at Quarry Street. I looked around. It was an overcast day and cool, typical for early autumn. I was cold, but I didn't put my coat on. I was too anxious to get there, see Michael and let this happen.

I crossed Quarry Street and walked two blocks into the neighborhood. Michael and Nate (there's that pang again, as well as that pulse of pleasure) lived in a dark blue house halfway down the third block. I hadn't been to their place in about a year, but not for a lack of invitations. I'd started coming over less when Michael and I started to feel more of a connection.

Their front yard sported a newly raked pile of leaves. Lights to the living room were on.

As I rang the doorbell, I realized my hand was shaking.

I felt myself being scrutinized through the peephole. I heard the deadbolt being unlatched. The door swung open, and there stood Michael in a white bathrobe. His lips curled into a smile, and his brown eyes glistened.

"Hey," he said.

I swallowed hard.

"Hey," said in reply.

Michael was a few inches taller than me, with a long face, broad shoulders and pale skin. He had red hair, something I always loved about him. We were both in decent shape for guys who spent most of our days at work and most of our evenings at home, but still working. He'd just turned 40, while I was a week away from my 38th birthday.

We stared at one another momentarily, almost unsure of what to do. Then Michael, shaking himself out of it, placed one arm on my shoulder.

"Why don't you come in, Jason?" he said.

I couldn't be sure, but it almost felt like his grip trembled a bit as he guided me inside and shut the door behind us.

In the entry way, I set my bag and coat down. I gazed up at him and we embraced.

"Thanks for inviting me over," I offered.

"Thanks for coming over, Jason," he said. "I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too," I said. "But is it okay to admit that I'm nervous?"

"Yeah. I am too."

Michael offered me water and I accepted. We walked into the living room and sat down on opposite ends of their sofa, with an empty cushion between us. I held the water but didn't drink it.

For a few moments, we talked around our agenda.

"Did you have any trouble getting here?"

"Bus took forever, or at least it felt like forever. But other than that, no problems. Are you enjoying working from home?"

"Yeah, though to be honest I didn't get much work done this morning. I was too distracted."

"Yeah. Me too."

With that, I set the water glass down and reached out with my left hand, taking Michael's right. I drew his body toward mine into an awkward sideways embrace. His head rested on my shoulder, and he wrapped both arms around my torso. I rested one hand on his shoulder, and stroked his face with my other hand.

For a few moments, we were silent. Then I turned my head to look into his eyes and lowered my lips to his. We kissed gently, slowly, softly. Once, twice, then three times. The fourth time, I opened my mouth and licked his lips. Michael to open his mouth as well. I suddenly realized that my stomach was no longer tight. I was no longer nervous. Nor was he.

Michael withdrew his hands and sat upright, moving his leg up against mine. He held my face in his hands, stroking my beard with his thumbs.

"You are so beautiful, Jason," he purred. "You get me so hot."

"So do you," I replied, kissing the tip of his nose.

"Here," said Michael, standing up. Turning to face me, he untied his bathrobe and let it fall to the floor.

With a whimper, I took in the scene. Michael was wearing only a white jock strap with a green waistband. His chest was mostly hairless, but below his belly button he had a treasure trail of red body hair that led to a thick nest of pubic hair. Whether on purpose or as a consequence of his engorged cock, his jock strap rested low, with the waistband positioned at the base of his cock and his pubes poking out above.

Michael breathed deeply. Looking up, I could see that he was flushed. He was so beautiful.

I wanted to put my hands all over him. I wanted our bodies together.

Heart pounding, I stood up and kissed him roughly, putting one hand on the back of his neck and drawing our faces together. My other hand reached around and stroked the small of his back. Through our kiss, Michael moaned. Then I let my hand travel down his back and felt his ass. Michael embraced me, running his hands along my back.

Awkwardly and eagerly, I kicked off my shoes and tried to pull off my socks using my toes. It didn't work, and our embrace faltered. Stumbling, I broke our kiss and Michael laughed. I smiled and thought to myself how natural this felt... us together.

I reached down and removed one sock, and then the other. As I raised myself back up, Michael put his hands at the base of my hips and lifted up my sweater. My arms went up, and we laughed our way through the awkward task of getting my head out of my sweater without damaging my glasses. I removed my undershirt myself and stood bare-chested in front of him.

"Much better," Michael said, running his hands along my chest. With one finger, he drew an outline around one of my nipples.

As I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants, I stood on my tip-toes and kissed Michael deeply. I was being as unceremonious as he had been moments ago. All I wanted to do was to stand before Michael wearing as little as possible. With one quick gesture, I lowered my pants and underwear and kicked them behind us.

Michael stepped back to take in my naked body. Like him, I didn't have much chest hair. What little I had, however, was black. My dark pubes contrasted with my pale skin and hard, 7.5 inch cock. The look of amazement on Michael's face aroused me even more. I grabbed my cock and gave it a few playful strokes, rubbing precum along the shaft and making the head engorged and dark red.

"You like?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I love it."

I stopped stroking and felt myself blush. Then Michael reached down and tenderly stroked my balls. He ran the back of his hand up the underside of my hard cock. Reaching the tip, he rubbed my slit, collecting some of my precum on the tip of his finger. He raised that finger to my lips and I took it into my mouth.

I closed my eyes momentarily. When I opened them and released his finger, I saw Michael grinning widely.

He reached down, grabbed my cock with one hand and guided me into their bedroom.

"This is what I do to Nate when I want him to fuck me," he said.

At the mention of Nate, my cock twitched violently and I shuddered with pleasure. Had Michael's hand been pumping my cock, I would've shot my load right there in the doorway to their bedroom. Michael must have felt the pulse through his hand. He looked over his shoulder and gave me a knowing smile.

"Yeah, I noticed that," said Michael. "You like that we're cheating, don't you?"

I stopped walking and touched his shoulder. Michael turned to face me and we kissed again. Pulling back, I smiled.

"Yeah, I do," I said, feeling simultaneously embarrassed and bold. "I don't know why I like it. But I'm so glad we're together."

"Me too," said Michael. "I love that you're a cheater."

"I am with you, at least," I said.

We were nearly to their queen-size bed. Michael turned and crawled into the center of the bed, posing on all fours. He rocked his hips to open his cheeks, giving me my first clear glimpse of his hole with its light dusting of red hair.

I needed no invitation. I crawled onto the bed, arching my back so I could wrap my body over Michael's in an embrace. I slid my cock up against his hole, feeling his ass wrap around my shaft. Michael moaned as I kissed his back. I ran one hand down his chest, feeling the hair thicken as my hand drew closer to the line of pubic hair and the waistband of his jock strap. I slid my hand under the waistband, found his cock, and gave it a few generous strokes. His shaft had already been lubed up with pre-cum.

"Mmmmm, Jason... that's it," said Michael. "Now get me ready for your big cock."

I felt Michael reach toward the pillows with one arm. I looked up and saw that he was fetching a bottle of lube he'd left at the head of the bed. Wordlessly, he passed it over to me. I situated myself on my knees behind Michael and applied lube to my hands and his hole.

Michael moaned. I ran my fingers around the edge of his hole, teasing him. He lowered himself onto his elbows and breathed deeply. Almost unconsciously, I inserted a finger.

"Damn, Michael," I said. "You're nice and tight."

"Yeah, I need a man like you to open me up," he said.

I silently pumped my finger into him for about a minute as he loosened up and relaxed. Outside, birds chirped. From a yard down the street came the familiar hum of a lawnmower. I slipped in a second finger and continued pumping, mixing the wetted sounds of our carnality with the neighborhood's everyday symphony. Michael's breath was deep and low, mine high and shallow.

"Open me more," grunted Michael. "Open my ass for your cheating cock."

In a trance, I inserted a third finger. He moaned and buried his face in the covers. I placed my free hand along Michael's back. His whole body seemed flushed and sweaty.

"Oh God, Jason! I can't stand it anymore," he shouted. "Give me your cock."

Wordlessly, I withdrew my fingers and lubed up my cock. I positioned myself right behind Michael, hands on his hips. I closed my eyes as I entered him, listening to Michael squeal and grunt with delight. I opened my eyes and looked down. My cock was fully inside him, Michael's pale ass up against my black pubes.

My breath was so shallow that I was afraid of cumming too quickly. I slowed down, drawing down my breathing rate and focusing my mind on the sensations of our bodies together: his warmth against my cock, hips and thighs; the pulses of his breath gently rocking through his hips; the musky scent of his sweat spreading through the room; the sight of his torso heaving with each breath. He reached back with one hand, placing it on top of mine.

With the birds singing and lawnmower buzzing, I began to fuck him. We started slow, wordlessly building up a rhythm and intensity. My impromptu breathing exercises kept me from shooting my load and helped me build up speed.

Michael raised himself up on all fours again. He looked back at me over his shoulder. His face was flushed deep red, like his hair. His eyes were half closed and mouth hung open. He was focused on every inch of my cock, pumping in and out of him.

"Fuck me," he sighed. "Fuck me..."

It was all he could say for the next few minutes. I slowly built myself up to a climax, but I didn't want to shoot yet. Nearing the point of no return, I slowed and reluctantly pulled out of him.

"Turn over," I said, rubbing his ass. "On your back."

Michael rolled onto his back and raised his legs, resting them up against my shoulders. He placed his arms behind his head, giving me a gorgeous view of the thick red hair of his armpits. Wet with sweat, their scent deepened the sexual energy of the room.

I guided my cock back into Michael's ass, and lowered his legs around my torso so I could lean in and over him. This time, my thrusts were rougher and faster. Michael let out a gasp or grunt with each pulse from my cock.

"That's it babe," he said. "Give it to me."

Leaning down, I licked sweat off of his torso and teased his nipples with my tongue. Reaching down, I freed his hard cock from the pouch of his jockstrap, adding lube and pumping it with my hand. If I was going to cum soon, so was he.

We locked eyes. I took my hand off Michael's cock so I could support my frame with both arms. I leaned down and made out with him. Our tongues met first, licking and dancing with one another with our mouths open. I thought of what Nate would see if he walked in, or one of our friends. The fantasy brought me closer to the edge like nothing else.

There was no turning back. This was happening.

"Oh God, Michael," I gasped. "I'm gonna cum."

"Give me your load, Jason," said Michael, as he reached down and jerked his cock.

I felt my cock stiffen and I slowed my thrusts to a crawl. Michael leaned up and kissed me deeply. Trembling and suddenly covered in sweat, I shot my load deep inside of him. Michael's breathing rose rapidly into shallow gasps. His body tensed and I felt and smelled his warm wet load hitting my stomach. Looking down, I saw that Michael was shooting rope after rope of semen all over his chest and stomach. The first few volleys had hit me.

I love cum. I lowered my chest onto his and pressed our bodies together. My cock was softening, but I stayed inside of him a few more moments as we made out with our arms wrapped around each other.

My cock, warm and wet, slipped out of his ass. We rolled to our sides and stared at each another.

"Hey Michael," I said.

"Hey Jason," he replied.

We stared at each other for a few more minutes.

"How're you feeling?" I asked.

"Wonderful. That was amazing."

"I'm glad."

"You?"

I anticipated his question, but didn't have an easy response. I felt warm and sexy and, in a way, loved. I also felt a little worried. I felt a little guilty about what we'd done, particularly since I'd gotten off on thinking of myself as a cheater. I wanted to know whether he was okay, and if we were okay.

"I feel good, really good," I said. "And loved. What we did was wonderful. How do you feel about it?"

Michael paused. He seemed deep in thought.

"A mixture of feelings," he said after a few moments. "We're a pair, you and I. I loved this. But I also have Jay, and you have Kent."

He paused again.

"I don't know what to do about that reality right now," he said. "But to be honest, I don't really want to do anything with that reality right now."

"Me neither," I said, rubbing his cum-covered belly. "And if I can be honest in return, I feel the same as you, but I also want to explore this more."

"Me too," said Michael.

I leaned down and began to kiss his chest and belly, getting his sticky load all over my lips and beard. Sighing, Michael rolled over onto his back and put his arms behind his head again. The room stank of sweat and semen. His cock, now half hard, lay outside the jockstrap. I gently removed the strap, tossed it to the floor and took his cock in my mouth.

"Careful," he said. "I'm sensitive."

I was gentle, cleaning the cum off of his cock.

"I wish you could stay," Michael said. "In a few hours, I'll be ready to go again."

I pulled off of his cock. My mouth tasted like his load. I realized that I would keep the taste of his seed in me for the rest of the day. A wave of pleasure washed over my body.

"I wish I could stay, too," I said, glancing at the bedside clock. "But, I need to go soon. Could I shower quickly before heading back?"

"Of course," he said. "I'll get the sheets in the laundry while you get cleaned up."

I looked across the bed, at the cum and lube and sweat all over the sheets. Outside, the birds were still chirping. The lawnmower had stopped.

I felt the cum on my face and belly. Swallowing hard, I savored the taste of his load in my mouth.

"Hey, you're still working from home for the rest of the week, right?" I asked. "So, how about round two tomorrow?"

"I'd love that, Jason," said Michael, beaming. "Let's do it!"