MIKE and RICHIE
chapter 4
by Donny Mumford
He's standing there in his boxer shorts looking good, and it's an awesome thing, but it's a little bit unnerving too because we really don't know each other all that well. Also, the quiet in here seems to highlight the awkwardness of the situation for both of us; I should have turned the radio on or something. This bedroom's so small and Mike's almost naked and I'm in such close proximity to him I feel overheated and uncomfortable, and there's desire on my part too. I gulp, clear my throat, then look away for a second, thinking,"Say something, do something! But I can't think straight! Then I get a rational thought, "It's just our first night... let's give it a chance." That's what I wanted to say to Mike, who looks as uncomfortable as I feel, but I don't say it... instead, I look at the floor, and mumble, "See ya in a few minutes," then go into the bathroom for my shower, all the while worried Mike won't be here when I come out. There's a pounding in my head and a firmness in my dick as I turn on the water and step under the same shower Mike stood naked under a few minutes ago; it's a turn-on for me and my dick lists to the side as I reach down to stroke it a few times, then fondle the bar of soap thinking, "Mike just washed his hot body with this very bar of soap." I know... it's a dumb thing to think and I need to get real before I embarrass myself. Hurrying, I wash, dry off, and get back to the bedroom anxious to see if Mike's still here, and there he is in my bed, under the top sheet. He's looking sooo good there too. His head's resting on my pillow; can I believe this, my pillow is under Mike's head! Okay, he's still here with me which is giving me this exciting, surreal feeling of, 'this just might be too good to be true!" Earlier, on the boardwalk, we'd agreed to take turns sleeping in the bed. One night Mike has the bed, and I'm in the sleeping bag, and the next night we switch, and so on. As my guest, I insisted he have the bed the first night and of course Mike got annoyed with me because he doesn't care for anyone 'insisting' anything on him. Then, resigned to it, he goes, "It's your house, hot-shot; you're the boss." I left it at that, but I don't really believe, especially where Mike is concerned, I'm ever going to be the 'boss'.
Taking a deep breath, I ask, "Um, can I get you anything, Mike?" I'm in boxer shorts too, my arms crossed over my chest 'cause I'm kinda skinny and self conscious about it. Mike doesn't look over at me though, he just says, "Nah, I'm good." "Okay to turn out the lights, Mike?" I ask, and he snaps back at me, "You gonna ask my permission to take a pee too?" He's right; why am I such a wimp around him? Dammit! I force a chuckle, and ask, "Well, can I? Can I take a pee?" and force out a phony laugh to show him I'm kidding. He blows out a lot of air, disgusted. The lights are off and I'm lying on top of the sleeping bag when he says, "Oh, before I forget. My mom probably will be calling on my cell phone tomorrow morning. It'll be around 4am but don't worry, I'll be up and out of here without making a sound."I say, "Sure thing, Mike. No problem." He's mumbling now, "I don't want to disturb your old man so I'll push the bike up the block before starting it." This is just a guess on my part, but I don't think Mike likes having to explain himself to me and that's why he sounds annoyed telling me about this. I better not say anything though. After ten seconds of silence, he's like, "You good with all this, Richie?" I'm like, "Yeah, great! Thanks." I know damn well he's staring into the night wondering if I just dissed him somehow, so to change the subject, I ask, "Mike, are ya gonna come up on the boardwalk after work tomorrow?" He sounds better when he goes, "Yeah, I'll see ya on the boards around two." I say, "I'll be waiting for ya with the guys." Mike says, "Alright then, goodnight." I say goodnight thinking, "Yes! He seems okay with everything, He even sounded friendly when he said goodnight." Still, what a strange feeling to be laying on top of my sleeping bag next to Mike, who's in my bed. How very odd; what a deliciously unexpected development this is. Just this morning I had no inkling this could even be a possibility, and now it's a reality... here he is. I'm getting this wonderful, contended feeling of happiness, then I wonder: when was the last time I felt happy, like I do now? Hmmm, I can't think of a time which is just plain pathetic. No! Don't let yourself be dragged down by the past, enjoy the present. To that end I'm picturing Mike's head on my pillow, the same pillow my head will be on tomorrow. Yes!!
It's warm tonight and we don't have air conditioning in here, just a window fan that's blowing on Mike; I hope he's comfortable. He's receiving whatever cooling benefit the window fan's providing because it's level with the bed. On the floor I can't feel much of the breeze and, as I said, it's a warm night which is why I'm on top of the sleeping bag instead of inside it. Mike will be sleeping down here tomorrow night so what I'll do is buy a fan that can be directed onto the guy who's stuck with the sleeping bag. "Okay!" I thought to myself, "good thinking!" Not being real tired, my mind wanders a bit and lands on the so-called "test" Mike gave me on the front porch a while back. He said it would reveal if I'm gay or not. It's a vivid memory for me, one I've jerked-off to a number of times. In my mind I can picture me sitting on the porch railing when Mike unexpectedly spreads my knees apart, each one up against the railing. I would have fallen over backwards if I hadn't grabbed around Mike's neck. Right now I can almost feel my arms against his neck and his hands massaging the inside of my thighs, and then him putting both hands up my baggy shorts. He'd grabbed my balls, the only thing between the palm of his hand and my nuts was the thin material of my boxer shorts. Then he'd squeezed a little before getting my dick with his other hand. It's not at all surprising that my dick quickly got hard; who's wouldn't with Mike gently massaging it. He fisted my cock and squeezed my nuts for a few minutes; me gasping and begging him to stop. My arms around his neck had pulled out faces together and our noses rubbed. He has an awesome natural smell too; I guess you'd call it sexy 'cause it gets me hard right now just remembering it. Of course he ignored my pleas to stop; instead he'd established a steady rhythm stroking my boned-up dick and it had felt so good I humped my hips against his hand in time with his stroking. Eventually he picked up the tempo; it got faster and faster till finally I squealed out against the side of his face and gushed cum all over the inside my boxers. I'd flunked the 'test' which proved I'm gay. What nonsense, but at the same time, what a rush reliving that experience.
Going up on my elbow I look at Mike; he's sleeping already. He's so fucking good looking, so fucking cute! Jesus, any other night I'd be jerking myself off in bed, can't do it with him sleeping right there. Still, I gotta relieve myself so I quietly get up and, with my hard cock leading the way, slip into the bathroom, turn on the water as cover-up noise, and wack-off to beat the band. Thinking not only of the 'test' but also about Mike being right here tonight, in my bed, on the other side of this thin wall, and I soon shoot a hard, long stream of cum against the shower curtain, moaning quietly as the second stream of spunk splashes against the tub, and the a third falls short landing on the floor. Then, tight slow strokes pulls up cum-drippings as my shoulders shudder and an electric buzzing travels around my balls and up to the head of my dick. Another shudder of pleasure and then the feeling of weakness I get after climaxing hard. Slumping on the closed toilet seat I wait for my heart beat and breathing to return to normal. Wow! What an awesome thing it is to climax like that. I never had climaxes like this before I met Mike! Feeling good now I take a deep breath, smile at the good fortune of having Mike as my roommate, then clean the cum off the shower curtain, tub, and floor. Can't have Mike spotting the telltale signs of the favorite pastime of adolescent boys... hee hee! I'm in such a great mood!
Back on top of the sleeping bag trying for some sleep and the next conscious thing I notice is musical notes repeating themselves and, what the hell am I doing on the floor... what the? My eyes open a little and it all comes flooding back to me; Mike is in my bed and that noise is his cell phone. In a flash Mike sits up and quietly mumbles into his cell phone, "Yeah, yeah...I'm up. I'll see you there. Yeah, thanks." He clicks his phone shut, slips into shorts and a
t-shirt, then into the bathroom, and out quickly. From the first tone of his cell, till Mike closes the front door, took maybe three minutes. As the front door clicks shut, I jump up and pad into the kitchen to look at him through the window. I watch him push his bike down the sidewalk until he's out of view; he isn't having any trouble pushing it. Why is it so difficult when I push it? Thirty seconds later I hear the muffled sound of his bike starting up, a semi-quiet wheelie and away he goes. It's 4:05am. I tip toe quickly into the bathroom for a quick pee and then right into my recently vacated bed that's still warm from Mike's body. Pulling the pillow over my face I inhale his aroma, then flip over on my belly to wiggle back and forth where he lay and hump the bed with the subtle scent of Mike wafting from the sheets. A slow humping of my mattress as I fantasize Mike being here with me. Then, reaching under, I begin stroking my cock and lightly squeezing my nuts like Mike did during that bogus 'test'. Oh, what a sweet feeling all around my crotch, belly and thighs. It isn't long before I'm making quiet desperate sounds, "Ooh, oh, aah, ah, ah," as I stroke myself and hump the imaginary Mike. Then that unmistakable sensation in my groin, two last fast strokes and I squeeze out a long stream of spunk followed by three short ones as lights stream behind my eyes and my body stiffens, then shudders and shakes with the awesome after effects of orgasm.
I feel slightly drained, but fabulous too as I squirm on the mattress with the pleasure of this part-fantasy, part-true experience. As the sensations fade away I realize I have tears on my cheeks. "I must be really fucked up in my head.
What's wrong with me?" Then I chuckle to myself; I'd gotten so hot so fast this morning I forgot to use my handy masturbation sock to shoot off in. Ha ha, I keep it between the mattress and the wall. Oops, what if Mike discovered it there? Flipping over on my back, I squish in my own cum feeling weird and disoriented, but good too. Mike's got my head totally screwed up, and he's not even aware of it; not that it's screwed up in a bad way. I wonder where all this will take me, and then the next thing I'm aware of is the sound of the shower. SHIT!! The old man!! I'd fallen back to sleep without setting my alarm. Up and dressed in a flash, dried cum on my boxer shorts, I run all the way to the convenience store for the coffee, danish and pack of cigarettes my dad expects will be waiting for him when he's out of the shower. He smokes exactly one pack per day; by buying cigarettes one pack at a time he controls his habit. Every morning there's a $20 bill on the kitchen counter intended for the purchase of those three items, and I get to keep the change. One or two times per week, depending on how he's doing with tips at the casino, there's an extra $20 bill for me to help cover my meals and on Saturdays there's my $50 for the chores I do. Dad told me this all adds up to the amount of money per week he previously sent my Mom for my child support. Now he gives it to me to use here. Seems fair and I'm grateful. And something else: the more he gets to know me the fewer times he feels it's necessary to slap me; I'm grateful for that too. And him being okay with Mike living here is cool too so, all in all, I'm satisfied with my dad, pleasantly surprised, but happily so.
This morning seems to drag on because of extra chores today. I did all my regular jobs which including washing our clothes and cleaning the kitchen, plus I washed the sleeping bag 'cause Mike will be using it tonight; it's my turn for the bed so I left the cum stained sheets in place. Then I cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom. I don't want Mike thinking he's bunking down with slobs. Of course I'm anxious to see Mike again, but I can't help wondering if anything will be different in our relationship now that he's staying here. Maybe Mike will feel closer to me now, give me a little slack with the ' rookie treatment; maybe not embarrass me in front of the guys so much for laughs, that kind of thing. Then I worry the opposite might happen, that he'll gets harder on me to prove... to prove what? I don't know what. I guess it comes down to this: I'm afraid something, something I can't even imagine, will screw-up Mike staying with me. During my forty minute walk to the boardwalk I analyzed everything that happened from the second Mike arrived at my house until the second he left and couldn't come up with anything that might have pissed him off, but ya never know. Up on the boardwalk I find five of the guys goofing around, smoking, and pitching quarters against the side of Annie's used book store. Tony sees me and comes over to greet me. We go, "Yo, whassup?" at the same time, then do a quick hand shake, one arm hug, and a pat on the back. I feel close to Tony and I can tell he likes me too. It's important for guys to be liked; in my old neighborhood not everybody who hung out together got along, but here with Mike in charge everyone seems to go along to get along; very little tension, unless Mike's creating some. Tony pulls out a half pack of cigarettes and offers me one. It's part of the gang's social order to offer cigarettes around whenever you're getting one for yourself. It's considered rude to decline the offer so we all end up smoking more than we want. As we smoke, Tony tells me about last night and his latest attempt to pick-up a 'babe' on the boardwalk. "She won't win no fucking beauty contest, Richie ... but, fuck! you gotta see the lips on this bitch. Wheee, oh boy! She could suck a golf ball through fifty feet of garden hose! I want those lips around my snake trying to suck my balls up through my dick!!!" Tony often gets himself laughing hysterically and it can become contagious. He's leaning into me and really laughing so I have to laugh too, at Tony's reaction, not that old garden hose line. We get over the giggles as some of the other guys wander over to screw around; we tell lies to each other about this and that and do nothing special, just hangin' on the boardwalk with the troops, having our version of fun.
Around 2pm I hear Mike's motorbike. Looking over the railing I see Mike park the bike on the street and then swagger up the ramp to the boardwalk sporting a bright red sunburned nose. It's been hot with bright sunshine today and Mike works outside on that farm doing whatever it is he does. Tony lisps, "Yo Mike, your fucking nose is wicked sunburned." Everybody likes good hearted Tony, so Mike smiles, shaking his head slightly, saying, "No shit Tony; I wonder how that happened." "Maybe 'cause you work outside Mike, the sun's pretty hot, so maybe that's it." Tony's sincere about his obvious observation, Mike chuckles as he lights a cigarette. We all smile to ourselves because Tony's so clueless. Smoke drifting from his nose and mouth, Mike looks over at me, and asks, "Everything cool, Richie?" "Couldn't be cooler, Mike!" I say, and we're off walking the boards, doing our usual routine. It sure seems that all is good to go for another night at my place. Later that afternoon, Mike says to me, "Man, it's so hot and humid, how about we head out to your place early; I've been up since 4 a.m." As we're walking towards his bike, he says, "Hey, maybe we can stop and get some Chinese take-out for dinner. Whaddaya think?" At times Mike seems to be asking a question or asking if something's okay, but he's actually not doing that; what he's doing is telling you what's going to happen next, but telling you in a nice way. It's all fine by me. Over the next few days that's pretty much the routine: Mike's up at four in the morning, I sleep in, then do my chores, and meet Mike later in the day on the boardwalk... later he decides what we'll do for dinner. I'm loving it except me we haven't taken one of our private rides or done any of our wrestling lessons since Mike's moved in with me. We've had some good conversations while eating our dinner and even in the bedroom before sleep, but absolutely none of the touching that wrestling allows, and I really miss the bodily contact. Riding behind Mike on the motorbike is a little different too. Shortly after the first night he stayed with me; we're riding somewhere when Mike turns his head to me, and says, "Yo! Stop trying to grab my balls when you're hugging me low on my stomach like that!" Then another time he says, "Richie, stop hugging me like you're my girlfriend. You're not a pussy are ya?" When he says things like that it hurts my feelings but I let it slide and try to accommodate him, "Hold on to my waist with your hands, don't put your arms around me, fer christsakes! Ya know, Richie, I overlook some stuff you do, but I can't have you mauling my body. It's embarrassing to me and it should be to you too." The more he talked, the angrier he seemed to get and I get the feeling it's himself he's angry with but I'm not sure why. Anyway, he finished this latest complaint with, "Keep your hands to yourself or I'm gonna smack ya in the mouth! Ya got that?" Mumbling, I go, "Yeah, I got it but why be mad at me, Mike? I was just trying to do what you told me to do earlier." He's not paying attention though, some asshole pulled out from a McDonalds cutting us off and Mike's screaming at him. Fuck, what difference does it make if he heard me or not. It will just sound like I'm whining if I remind him he's the one who told me to hold on tight, especially when I almost fell off the back of the bike that first time with those guys chasing us. Looking at the bright side of things, he's calling me 'Richie' now, he's dropped the mocking 'Richard' stuff, and he hasn't grabbed a fistful of my hair for a long time, so it ain't all bad. Later that same day he chastised me for not holding him tight enough when we were taking a sharp turn and I began sliding over the side, "God dammit, Richie! Hold on tighter than that! Don't be a smart ass!" So, it's hard for me to win, but I am back to a hold that's closer to a hug than anything else, and I haven't heard any complaints about it recently.
On the forth day Mike met my old man and they hit it off really well. Quick meeting but relaxed, no tension. My dad sounded sincere,"Hi, nice to meet you, Mike. Sorry about your trouble! Hey, I ran into your mother at the drugstore today. She heard me give my name when I was picking up my prescription and introduced herself to thank me for taking you in. She seems a very nice lady, very attractive." Man, that's a long speech for my dad, really long. Mike's like, "Oh, thanks. Yeah, mom's great. Thanks for letting me stay here, Mr. Mealey." Dad's all smiles, "Glad we can help, son. Nice meeting you." That's about it, but it relaxed Mike even more and I can tell he's settling in for the long haul. That's a good thing... A few nights later I'm in the bed, Mike's on the sleeping bag, exhausted after another day on the tomato farm. He's like dead to the world lying there, the rotary floor fan I bought blowing warmish air over him. I couldn't sleep and soon found myself staring down at Mike as he glows in the moon light streaming through the window. Laying on my stomach at the very edge of the bed, I look down at him. He appears long and slim laying there; geez, this is cool being able to study how he looks. Of course, if he opens his eyes he'll be startled as hell to see my wide-eyed stare; it would probably totally freak him out. I chuckle at the thought of how pissed-off he'd be that I'm ogling him like this, but I can't stop looking. He's deep asleep anyway so he's not going to catch me at it. His face is completely relaxed; a very youthful looking face which most people over-look because he acts so tough and confident. Whoa, he's special! Turning away then, feeling like a stalker, I rub my dick into a boner and can't resist rolling back over again for another look at Mike as I stroke myself. His buzzed haircut highlights the perfect shape of his head, and his perfectly straight, blond hairline. He has thin light brown eyebrows and longish, slightly curled eyelashes. His nose and lips and chin and cheeks and every god damn feature of his face is like a Leonardo da Vinci drawing of the perfect boy's face. Wonderful symmetry of facial features and the unbelievably healthy skin tone; altogether an example of real physical beauty for a boy... something, until recently, I wouldn't even recognize or acknowledge existed. Did I just think the word 'symmetry'? Ha ha! He requires I elevate my vocabulary! Oh man, he's awesome! Back to evaluating every inch of Mike, I'm in wonder at his perfectly formed arms with the definition of muscle in his biceps and the fine, almost invisible, light blond tiny hairs on his forearms. And look at the great hairless chest and taut stomach on this kid; it's ridiculous! He doesn't have the classic 'six-pack' of stomach muscle exactly, but very firm and tight and real... and sexy too. I've felt his taut, tight stomach any number of times with my arms around him riding on his bike, and during our wrestling matches, and I've had my arms around his narrow waist, and rubbed over his innie belly button.
Stroking my dick slowly, I close my eyes and let out a low moan of desire yearning to touch him and be held in his strong arms; you know, like when we wrestle. With my eyes closed I picture him in my head and I've never seen a more perfect looking boy. I've acknowledged to myself early on, in a general way, that Mike is cute and, you know... hot too, I guess. He's the first boy I've ever had any kind of thought like that about, but now it goes even deeper; his perfection is something to be realize and absorbed, and for some reason that thought scares me. Am I a freak to think these thoughts? And I wonder about his hidden private parts inside his boxers too. I've felt his boner through his shorts a few times while wrestling, but I can't tell how big it is, and I hate myself for even thinking about it, but I do. As he lay on top of the sleeping bag my eyes open and travel down to his legs. Can they be as perfect as the rest of him? Of course they can, long and sleek with the same good muscle definition, and almost invisible little blond hairs on the calves, as his arms. Mike's the perfect 'male form' and how lucky I am to be able to appreciate it up close and personal like this. I chuckle to myself because I can't take my eyes off him. Okay, I'm obsessed with him, infatuated and overwhelmed by him. Jeez, I wonder if Mike has any idea how lucky he's been with the mix of genes he's blessed with. Starting with his parents, and going back to generations of mixed genes before theirs; all of them mixed together came up with this aggressive, dominate, and almost perfect looking boy, and Mike probably takes it all for granted. The word 'exquisite' enters my mind, but I quickly reject it because it's too faggy; first symmetry and now exquisite! What's happening to me? Ha ha. Anyway, I still gotta admit I think Mike's beautiful, and that's awful faggy too. It's no wonder my hard boner is throbbing and dripping on the sheets. I'll need to change the sheets again tomorrow night, Mike might get upset about sleeping in stiff sheets. Ha! Yeah, a little!
Casually playing with myself, remembering how Mike feels and smells when I'm riding behind him on the motorbike, or even better, our wrestling matches; his personal scent is so nice, so like Mike in a way I can't articulate. Humans apparently emit some kind of chemical fragrance that other humans detect in their own unique ways. I read on line once that the chemical emitted is called pheromones; whatever it's called I'm detecting Mike's in a very positive way. Continuing to look at him while playing with myself creates an ache in my balls and when it gets to be too much, I turn over to face the wall and quietly jerk-off; I'm comfortable doing this because I've learned that Mike's a deep sleeper. Oh, this feels so good! I wish the feeling could last, but I'm much too aroused for that; in two minutes, grunting quietly and breathing raggedly, I shoot a lot of creamy cum into the sweat sock I hide between the mattress and the wall. Whoa! It's going to take a while for that sock to dry out! My second squirt has me moaning, knowing the noise from the window fan cover these moans of pleasure. Jerking off is a very good way to spend some quality time with oneself. Mike heard nothing, didn't even move. My orgasm calmed me down considerably and I'm ready for sleep. The last things I remember as I doze off, with a smile on my lips, is the hot after effects of that awesome orgasm that buzzed in my groin. Then, with a picture of Mike in my head I go to sleep happy. If I dreamed of him, I don't recall the dream.
Today's pretty much like most days except Mike is beginning to act towards me more like he did before moving in. Maybe the exchange with my old man convinced him that this sleeping arrangement is set, and that worry's off his mind. He's back to embarrassing me for laughs like he did in the early days. Maybe he's doing it because he's sharing my bedroom, he feels he needs to prove to the guys that nothing's changed; I'm still the new kid. Today, for example: Mike gets pissed at me because I wasn't paying attention when he asked me something and I held up my hand, like... "I'll be with ya in a second, Mike." He was not pleased and he clamps his left hand on the back of my neck, his thumb on one side and his fingers on the other side squeezing. I'm like, "Owwww... ouch, ..ah ah Mike, please!" He bends my head down almost to his crotch and sarcastically mimics me, "Just a second, Richie. I'm busy now," squeezing my neck harder.
"Oh," he says, "perhaps you can give me a hand. I burned my thumb at the farm today. Did you ever burn your thumb Rich? Huh, did ya?" I'm like, "Oh, ah ...please, you're really hurting my neck, Mike." The guys are snickering naturally. Mike continues, "My thumb is too sore to pull down my zipper. Can you do it for me Richard? Please?" Everything he says is in a mocking manner; I'm getting a headache from the pain at the back of my neck, but I manage to mumble, "Sure, I can do that for ya." After accidentally groping his crotch, I finally get a hold on the little metal "pull" and zip it down. Mike squawks, "I didn't mean here you dumb shit! Ya think I'm going to pee on the boardwalk? Zip that back up!" The guys are laughing, Mike has a full audience today as all six of his loyal followers are here. Casual boardwalk walkers might notice two teens messing around, but Mike has us facing the ocean over near the railing and his fly isn't visible to most. The guys laugh, but they don't hate me; it's like I said, I'm just low man in the group experiencing some hazing. Mike's got a bully streak in him, but I think it's to cover up the fact that he's basically a quiet nice guy who's forced to grow up in a rough neighborhood and, as a result, he's developed this bullying side to project toughness; although that's just a theory.
While pulling his zipper back up I feel the impression of his limp dick. This is the first physical contact we've had since he moved in with me; obviously not the kind I was hoping for. Mike blurts out, theatrically, "You touched my dick; I think you need a spanking." The guys are laughing nervously, wondering if Mike's going too far. "Come over to this bench you naughty boy!" People passing by can hear Mike and they begin gawking at my embarrassing situation although I don't imagine many of them can make-out exactly what's being said; my face is dark red with embarrassment just the same. Mike keeps me bent over as both my hands hold onto his arm. He's pulling me through the boardwalk crowd to the bench he's chosen, and then drags me down with him when he sits. Arranging me across his lap gets the guys hooting and hollering; this is one for the books. They'll be talking about Mike spanking the new kid on the boardwalk all summer. The only exception is Tony, he's concerned for me, "Okay, Mike that's enough.
Let him up, Mike, it's not funny!" Mac finally yells at Tony, "Shut the fuck up Tony or I'll give you a spanking too." Tony yells back, "I'd like to see you try it, you homo." And while that was going on, Mike has fumbled around trying to pull down my shorts, but finally settles for grabbing my ass, saying, "Which ass cheek do ya want me to spank?" Then, from some where to our right I hear a screechy lady's voice, "Just what do you think you're doing there, young man?"
Mike says, "Excuse me, say what, Ms Butt-in-ski? Surely you're not talking to me." I couldn't see the lady, but she sure has a bossy ring to her voice. "Let him up this instant you fresh mouthed thing, or would you prefer I call the boardwalk police." "Hey lady, he's my little brother and he needs a big bad spanking for being naughty, but you go ahead and call all the police you want, Ms Busybody. See if I give a shit!" She's like, "Well, I never...! That kind of language doesn't belong anywhere, and certainly not where little children are about!" Mike ignores her and gets my head low to the boards on his left, pushing down at the back of my head, me laying across his lap with my left leg on the bench beside Mike, my right foot on the boardwalk. This is another one of Mike's incredibly intimate positions that he gets us into. His knees spread open a little so that my crotch fits right down tight on top of his. Our cocks rub against one another as I squirm to get free. Mike moves his knees back and forth generating extra stimulation for our dicks which begin forming into boners; I stop my squirming and enjoy the feel of Mike's hard cock.
With his strong right hand he's settled on a firm grip of my left ass cheek, the tip of his index finger probes the back of my nuts, his hand pushed sideways into my ass crack; the full length of it like a wedgie. He's massaging my bum and my crack, and every few seconds squeezing it, but not so it hurts, actually it feels good.
Mike's run out of ideas for humiliating me and I've stopped fidgeting anyway; this entire episode on the bench has lasted only about a minute and yet sensations all around my groin, up into my stomach,and all around my ass, are sexy and hot. Tingling, humming sensations all over my lap and buttocks areas... it's too awesome to describe. I've forgotten all about the humiliating aspects of this and let myself submerge into a Mike induced orgy of good feelings. In my aroused state I'm blowing out little burst of air while feeling my balls begin to tighten up and that pre-ejaculation sensation comes on me. All the activity surrounding me on the boardwalk had receded far into the background, the arousal feelings in my groin rules. From far off I hear, "She just called on her cell phone, Mike." It's Marty updating Mike about the nosey lady's actions. Mike asks me, "Do you by any chance have a wooden or mental tube of some sort in your pocket, Richie?" And from Marty again, "I see the cop's hat bobbing up and down as he rides his bike up the boards, Mike." It's getting too close, so Mike says to me, "I owe you a spanking," and he sits me up by pulling my head up by my hair, then releasing me. "Tony, give Richie your hat and you come over here and take my place." To me he mouths silently, "Cover up your boner!" Then he casually walks over and takes Kyle's hat and puts it on his head. All the boardwalk walkers block these minor outfit alterations and position changes. Mike has now moved away from the bench and is talking to some of the guys when the cop rides up to the lady who's waving at him. We can hear her piercing voice say, "They're over here, officer." She leads the cop over, then gets confused. She looks at Tony sitting on the bench, then at me, but we don't look like the two on the bench just a minute ago. Tony's short and I'm wearing a baseball hat, smiling sweetly. After a few seconds, as the lady looks from me to Tony, then to the other boys standing around smirking, Tony and me get up slowly to walk over to the steps leading down to the beach twenty feet below. We know Mike will shortly have them all talking in circles and Ms Busybody will be so confused about who did what to whom it will end up making her look like a fool. This is exactly the kind of thing all the guys love and it will be discussed for days and create lots of laughs as the story gets better with each telling. Eventually it'll be me bare assed with my dick hanging out for Ms. busybody to point at, or something just as crazy.
Tony and me walk down the steps and onto the beach heading for the ocean, which looks calm today. Tony's agitated, "Mike can be a major prick, Richie. Are you okay?" "Oh yeah, I'm fine, although it was wicked embarrassing." Tony tells me not to worry about it because all the guys have had embarrassing things done to them over the years by Mike. "Ya know, Richie, Mike's the strongest and can be a bully at times, but he's smart and wicked cool too, and funny as hell. Don't ya think?" I say, "Yeah, sure, Tony, I agree. I'm cool with everything, I know it's just Mike being Mike. I get over stuff quick." Tony reaches up to take his hat back and then gives my head a rub and my arm a squeeze showing me he approves of how I handled myself, and he's showing me that I have his support too. We'd slipped off our sandals when we got to the beach and then walked across the beach to stand in about six inches of ocean water as it flows in around our ankles all foamy and cool, and then just as fast flows smoothly back out to sea. It feels good. These guys who've lived year round in Wildwood hardly ever go in the ocean because after a while the ocean is just there. A seaweed strewn expanse; just waves of salty water rolling up on the sand. To tourist it's exotic and fabulous, but the locals have long ago lost interest. Strange how that works. After a while Tony and I wander back up onto the boards where we find the guys smoking and horsing around, like always. They all look up when we appear at the top of the steps, then all the guys follow Mike as he walks towards us. I kind of cringe when Mike reaches over to put his arm across my shoulders, and asks, "You okay, Richie?" I shrug and say, "Yo, I'm fine!" and everyone starts talking and laughing at the same time. They talked over each other telling Tony and me how Mike made fools of the nosey lady and the stupid cop.
After a bit Mike walks me away from the group and over to the side of the boardwalk opposite the beach; the side with all the stores and shops and miniature golf courses, and water parks and amusement rides, and just about anything you can think of. He says, "Richie, I want you to try something fabulous, something new; crusty french fries. They're simply the best french fries you'll ever taste. Have you ever had 'em?" I don't know what to expect, I shake my head 'no' and he guides me down the boardwalk to the shop that sells them. Along the way he has a long string of things he wants to tell me regarding what happened between him and me a little while ago. Many words and rationalizations that all added up to less than an apology, although Mike probably thought it was one. No matter, with his arm around my shoulder I feel special that he cares enough about me to give this rambling explanation. At the shop he buys me an order of the special french fries which come in a paper cup with a small container of ketchup. "Watch out cause they're wicked hot right out of the fry-o-lay-tor. Pick out a long one and dip the end in the ketchup."
I did that and damn if it wasn't the best french fry I've ever eaten.
Crunchy on the outside with lots of salt, but creamily delicious inside. "Yum yum!" I say. We finish the cup of fries without saying another word, then Mike buys us both lemonades made with fresh lemons squeezed right in front of you. After silently draining our lemonades, Mike puts his arm across my shoulders again and we walk down the boards, neither of us in a hurry. He's quietly telling me, "Ya know, you really handled that situation okay back there, Richie.
I was just fucking around with you getting some laughs for the guys, right? I could tell you were cool with it; I respect that." Looking for some more compliments, I say, "It was wicked embarrassing, but I know the routine, I'm no baby." Mike lets his arm drop from my shoulders to drape it around my neck, and says, "Ya know Richie, you are quickly becoming my best bud out of the entire 'gang' and that's a surprise because I've only know you for weeks as compared to knowing most of the guys for years." Boy oh boy, was I ever getting a great feeling hearing this; I can't tell you how good it makes me feel knowing Mike really, honest to God, likes me; maybe best out of everyone. The entire humiliating spanking scene is totally ancient history!
We hook up with the guys again; most of the talk for the rest of the afternoon is about the spanking that almost happened, and the old busybody calling the boardwalk police, and how Mike and the guys outsmarted everyone. Finally, to me, Mike nods his head in the direction of his bike indicating "we're outta here"... we exchange friendly insults with everyone and then I follow Mike to his bike. When I get on the back, I give Mike an extra tight hug around his waist; he fires up the motorbike and drive us away from the boardwalk without objecting to my show of affection. It's like we passed some invisible barrier into a tighter friendship and it all evolved from that humiliating spanking that never really was a spanking. I think Mike's very smart, but I don't think for a minute he knew where it was headed when he started bullying me this afternoon. By happenstance it turned out great for me; and I think Mike's happy with the conclusion too. TI'm looking up because the sky's getting dark fast as it sometimes does on real hot summer days in South Jersey. As the sky got darker the temperature drops quickly and it's kinda spooky flying along the back roads heading home. Then there's booming thunder clap so loud it' scares the hell out of me. The winds picked up and I'm thinking we're in for a wet time of it during the last half of our ride. Another boom of thunder followed by a streaking bolt of lightning. Mike turns his head, and yells back to me, "Get ready for a hard rain, hold onto me tight, Richie!" He didn't need to tell me twice, I'm squeezing him against me with the side of my face against his back, my long hair flapping against the back of his neck. A thought hits me: There isn't anyplace in the world I'd rather be than right here where I am right now with him.
More thunder and lightning, then a few fat drops of rain hit the street around us, splattering wetly, followed immediately by more, and then a deluge! Rain so thick it's almost as if we're under water. Mike yells, "Fuck!" and steers the bike to the side of the road, then to a complete stop 'cause you can't see two feet in front of your face. The two of us are totally drenched within seconds. It's a wild scene and even Mike says he's never seen rain like this before. In two minutes the gutters are
backing up; there's an inch, then two inches of water on the road. It lasts maybe five minutes total, then began quickly tapering off, and then it stops altogether and the sun comes out. Unbelievable! It was a short thunder storm, but we couldn't be any wetter than if we'd jumped into the ocean with all our cloths on. Mike fires up the motorbike, then takes it slow because there's a lot of water on the roads. When it's safe he punches the power up and we pick up speed. The air's fresh now, then,
out of nowhere a dazzling rainbow appears in the sky ahead of us. I've never seen colors so stark and bright in a rainbow before, and I think, "That's Mike and my rainbow!" Wow! It's celebrating our new bonding today! He goes, "Holy shit! Look at that, Richie!" I'm speechless staring at it and feeling his weird sense that it's a sign for us of some sort. It fades away completely just as Mike pulls up in front of our place.
Parking the bike, we drag our soaked bodies up onto the porch and I hop up on the railing to have a cigarette. Mike pulls his pack of Marlboro Lights out and they're sopping wet, of course. With a single word, "Fuck!" he tosses the useless pack of wet tobacco in the trash barrel at the curb for the trash collection. It makes me wonder about the money in my pocket so I pull out about thirty dollars of wet paper money, which I do not throw in the trash. Mike's like, "Let's get dry, the hell with a
cigarette." I lay the money on the porch chair so it'll start drying in the sun, then head inside. As I walk through the front door Mike's coming out of the bathroom with a towel, drying his head; he's completely naked, saying something under the towel. I think it's, "Get out of those wet clothes", but I can't take my eyes off his totally naked body. His small pubic patch surrounds what looks like about a six an a half uncut dick above nice, round balls. Everything's proportioned and just as
perfect looking as the rest of him. I'm still staring at him with my lips parted when Mike pulls the towel down and sees me in almost a hypnotized state, he nods his head like he's confirmed something to himself, and says, "Richie, get out of those wet clothes and I'll let you suck my cock, but hurry before I change my mind." I go, "What? Suck your cock? I'm not queer. I don't blow guys." "Just get out of the wet clothes," is his quiet response.
After hesitating another second, I pull my soaking wet T shirt over my head and step out of my sandals. Almost in a trance I drop my cargo shorts, realizing then that my dick's half boned-up
pushing out the front of my wet boxer shorts. My face turns scarlet, as Mike says, "Drop those boxers and get over here." That's what I did. Standing in front of him naked, he says, "Whether you know it or not, you've been wanting to suck my cock since the first minute you saw me and, like I told you earlier today, I've come to like you a lot so as a favor to you I'm going to let you do it. My girlfriends have sucked me off and it's hot, but I can't help wondering if a guy can't do it better.
Obviously you're queer, or I'll say 'gay' if you prefer; whatever, you want my dick in your mouth, so here's my chance to find out who's better at sucking cock, a guy or a girl... and, I can make you happy at the same time." I'm slowly shaking my head, 'no' as my dick gets harder. Mike continues, in a low conversational manner, "As you know, I'm totally straight, but why shouldn't I take advantage of a mutually agreeable situation between friend, right? And listen to this, Richie, it's
important... even though you're a homo, I don't judge. I still like you best of all the guys. So what do ya think about that?!" What do I think about it, indeed! Why fight it? Without further hesitation, I step towards him, he smiles and says, "Good boy! How about a hug?" and our naked bodies come together, me captured within his arms. The feel of his bare skin against mine sends shivers all through me. The smoothness and tightness of his body is a dreamy combination. I shudder, and as
he lightly kisses the side of my neck, he's mumbling, "I kiss you because I know you want to be kissed, and to say 'thanks' for sucking me off. After moving in with you I figured I better educated myself about gays. On line I read all about what homos like and dislike and I've even watched some reruns of that old show, "Queer As Folk." As for straight guys like myself, while I'm tough, I'm also open minded and compassionate too; plus, I feel for minorities of all types. Hell, you didn't choose to be gay, so I'm willing to help out a friend." As he's saying all this I happily stand still in his arms, thinking, "me thinks he protests too much!" and it is an impossible rationalization on his part, but I sure as shit ain't gonna to do anything that might slow up this fast moving awesome
development!
Mike says, "Just for you, Richie," and he does slow kisses all over the side of my face. Then he drags his tongue across my cheek and, finally, kisses me on the lips. Let me tell ya, I've never in my life had a boner as hard as the one I have right now! It's pressed tight in between our taut bellies; I'm taking deep breaths whenever I can, occasionally letting out a quiet moan of ecstasy. His tongue enters my mouth and we French kissed till I'm dizzy. Kissing another boy is something I've never even thought about until meeting Mike. As a matter of fact, I'd only made out with girls three times in my life. On each occasion it was at someone's birthday party and I can't say I liked it especially, but I didn't think about it all that much either. I've certainly had very little experience with kissing while Mike appears to know exactly what he's doing. He rubs the hair up the back of my head, his fingers running through it and then up to the top of my head leaving my hair in a wonderful mess. He rubs my back and then both his hands cup my buns as he presses my crotch into his and humps gently into me. I groan and moan feeling like I've left earth for another place in space and time; where, I don't know, but I want to stay forever. My rock hard naked boner, skin to skin next to Mike's, is leaking between us even as Mike's hard, dry cock pokes at my belly button.
To say it's surreal totally doesn't do it justice. The suddenness, the unexpectedness, the lusciousness of this for me is so far above any thrill I've ever experienced it staggers me. Taking his lips away from mine, he says, in a breathless voice, "Okay, Richie, get down on your knees before I change my mind." I hesitate then; not sure what to do... is this another test? An elaborate test... no, that's stupid, stupid, stupid!!! Mike pushes down on my shoulders and all of a sudden I'm on my knees in front of him and his hard cock is right there in front of my face. He's got it in his hand tracing the head across my forehead, then down one side of my face and across my chin and up the other side. Precum begins drooling as he moves it over my face and now leaving a wet trail in it's path. Without thinking, my tongue comes out and Mike coos,
"Good boy, I'll give you a quick taste," and he wipes the wet head of his cock on my tongue, then lays it there and slides it in all the way to the back of my mouth. "Suck my cock, Richie!" Tentatively I tongued it's shaft, then put my fingers around it close to his belly, my little finger against his blond bush, and lick up and down the shaft, sucking on the fat head each time I get to it. Mike gasps, and says, "Yes, good! More tongue... oooh yeah!" The truth is, I've never had a dick in my mouth before so I have no idea if I'm doing things correctly, but I've already noticed a few things: for one, I like having Mike's cock in my mouth. I like feeling it in my fist too, and feeling it grow and get harder as I suck it, and I like his smell, his scent, which is stronger here then smelling his pillow or smelling him when we wrestle. I like him holding my head like he's doing, and I liked the feeling of being under his control, doing what he tells me to do. I can feel his pre cum drooling into my mouth and I like that too; there's nothing to do but swallow it, which I surprise myself by doing without hesitation.
After sucking Mike off for about five minutes, I begin stroking my own boner and I do it in rhythm with my sucking and stroking of Mike's cock. His breathing becomes short and fast, and all of a sudden, without warning, he pulls my hand off his boner, grabs my head with both hands as his hips hump forward and his hard boner pokes into my throat. He makes noisy breathing sounds fucking my mouth and throat with fast deep strokes; the breathing sounds turn to grunts and groans as if he's in pain. Tears stream down my face as my heart hammers in my chest; it's frightening at first having my throat full of cock and unable to breath, but I don't panic and soon learn to suck in air when he pulls back, then relax my throat as he's driving his boner back down until pubic hairs surround my nose and chin. I let go of my boner and hug around his thighs with both arms to steady myself as Mike roughly fucks my face. His's bizarre rationalization aside, it's possible Mike's using me strictly for his pleasure and, weirdly, just thinking about that keeps my cock boned-up hard. Mike's aroma, plus the feel of his legs in my arms, and his cock is in my throat... it's so hot!! My boner's at it's full six inch status, throbbing and dripping as Mike screeches out a sound, then does exaggerated grunts and gasps followed by a rush of liquid flooding my throat. I panic for a second at that, and then stupidly inhale which allows a lot of his cum to get sucked up into my sinuses and then blown out in spraying strings from my nostrils; Mike's cum and my mucus cover my upper lip, then slowly drools in rivulets around my mouth and onto my chin. I'm choking and desperately trying for some oxygen as Mike's cock comes out of my mouth entirely and a shot of creamy teen cum splatters against my face, then a spurt hits the hair at the front of my head before Mike gets his cock back in my mouth where I suck out drippings of his sweet tasting spunk.
His face was scrunched up and he made all kinds of stressed pleasure sounds as he climaxed and it seemed Mike had totally forgotten me; I was merely a means for his pleasure and with that thought in my head I stroke my boner tight and fast, humping my hips and a long stream of cum shoots out feeling so good I almost pass out, the first shot is quickly followed by another, and then another. The feeling's so intense I'm still yanking on my cock trying for more cum shots long after I've milked myself dry. It's so incredibly arousing I grab Mike's cock again and suck it back into my mouth, he's like, "Alright, for Christ sake, that's enough, let go of my dick! The damn thing's too sensitive as it is. Let go of it, Richie!" I'm in a fog of pleasure, I go,
"Huh? What? Oh, oh yeah... sorry, Mike! I Ah ..that is..." Then I look down and stupidly mumble, "Oh look at that; I spunked all over us Mike." He smirkes at me, friendly like, and says, softly, "You're quite the cocksucker Richie.
You're my personal cocksucker from now on, that's for sure! You do know that right?" I look up at him with my dumb look, and he asks, "Who's cocksucker are you, Richie?" I stop pumping my softening boner, and manage, "Huh? Whaddaya mean, Mike?" He's casually wiping cum dripping off my chin and then spreading it around my face with the palm of his hand, saying, "It's really quite simple, Richie; when I want my cock sucked, you get busy sucking it, which makes you my personal cocksucker. That's not too hard to understand, is it?" I wish I didn't do this dumb-ass frowning thing with my face, but I do again anyway; it's like this concept is beyond my ability to comprehend. He pats my cum-smeared cheek, and says, "It's for your benefit too. You like sucking my cock, Richie; you shot-off harder than I did! When there's no girlfriend to do it, like today,
you'll suck me off 'cause you're my personal cock-sucker. Now, who are you?"
He's beginning to act frustrated, or maybe he's angry, but at who? At himself maybe? I don't know. Mike repeats his question, "Who are you?" grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking it. Like a robot, I respond in a flat tone, "I'm your personal cock sucker." "And what else, Richie?" I thought for a few seconds, and add, "Oh yeah, like you said, I like it, Mike."
Mike smiles a real nice smile then, and says, "That's my good boy, Richie! And you get a nice reward for accepting who you are." Sure, I've accepted who I am; now who's turn is it to accept who they are? Needless to say, I keep that observation to myself. Mike guides me up off my knees with a hand on the back of my neck, then licks some of his cum off my lips before giving me a nice kiss. When I coo and put my arms around his neck he gives me passionate kisses for several minutes until both of us have semi-boners again. He could have continued all night as far as I'm concerned. Eventually, with his arm across my shoulders, we walk slowly back to my bedroom, while Mike asks, "How long have you known you're gay, Richie?" I say, "I didn't ever think I was until I met you, Mike." He chuckles and gives me another hug and a long wet kiss. I understand that I'm gay for Mike, but again I gotta wonder... what about him? I'm enjoying everything too much to argue about that point now though. Mike has the right to believe what he wants; he's convinced he's a straight stud and I think I'll leave it at that. This turn of events is too wonderful; I'm not doing anything to screw it up! Done with making-out, Mike wants to talk. We talk quietly about what we'd just done together, and as we talked about it the realization hit me that I actually sucked his cock, it's a real life fact, and I'm good with it. No remorse or guilty feelings; just the opposite, I feel alive and happy and relaxed about who I am. We're leaning against the counter in the kitchen as Mike quizzes me again about any previous gay experiences I've had, but there simply aren't any to tell about, although I don't think he believes me. He squeezes my shoulder and as we wander slowly through the family room Mike decides he wants me to describe every detail of my cock sucking adventure with him. He's especially interested in what I was thinking while I was doing it so I describe it as best I can, but it all happened so fast I mostly hadn't been thinking about anything except what was happening from one second to the next.
When we get to my bedroom Mike puts on boxer shorts, but won't let me put anything on. He kept guiding the conversation back to how much I liked gay sex as if I've a lot of experience with it, and I keep insisting this is the first gay sex I've ever had. Well, assuming we don't count the two times he jerked me off; I'm pretty sure he doesn't want me mentioning that, so I don't. Mike finally appears content that I'm being honest about never having had gay sex before this and he gets back to being real sweet. He drags me onto the bed and we do some cuddling, me naked and Mike almost naked. No talking, just grinding our bodies together with dueling boners. After ten minutes or so, Mike tells me to pull his boxers down and suck his cock again. I do it and it goes pretty much like the first time, except there isn't any hugging and kissing after this one, and I didn't have an orgasm myself. Mike had a pretty good one though, especially considering his first one exploded less then an hour ago. Apparently Mike's satisfied his sexual urges by now, so he eliminated the kissing part, which I miss. Getting up and pulling on a t-shirt, Mike says, "Oh, ya don't need to worry about me telling the guys you're a cocksucker; I'll keep it a secret, okay?" I mumble, "Yeah, thanks, Mike," but, at the same time I know damn well he doesn't want the guys knowing he let another boy blow him either, just like he doesn't want anyone to know he jerked me off on my front porch doing that so-called 'test'. Just the same, I'm happy he won't tell, 'cause I wouldn't want to have to face Tony if he knew. He kind of looks up to me and he'd sure as hell stop doing that if he knew I was sucking cock. Later we ate sub sandwiches for dinner, spent some time on the boardwalk, took separate showers and went to sleep like nothing monumental had taken place today. It's my turn to sleep in the bed and as I lay here going over this afternoons activities in my head, I'm convinced that rainbow today was a signal my life was about to change and it sure did. All in all, this is the best day of my life, so far!
to be continued
Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com