CHAPTER SIX (of NINE)
Surprisingly, sleeping at Richie's house is working out okay. It's not a fabulous situation certainly, but it's far better than staying at my aunt's house or paying to sleep at a sleazy motel. Our arrangement is, Richie sleeps in the bed one night, and I use the sleeping bag, then the next night, we switch. Fortunately, neither of us has a germ-phobia, so we're not especially concerned about the other guy's 'cooties,' so to speak. And, as a side benefit for me, that boy has a nice natural scent. Seriously, he smells good. It's weird, maybe, but I can detect his scent from the bed linens. It's subtle but pleasantly noticeable; to me, it is.
Sure, staying here, it's a bit awkward for me, but it would be for anybody moving in with almost strangers. And, I haven't even met Richie's old man yet, so that still needs to be dealt with. On the plus side, my job at the farm is going well and, considering how devastating that fire was, everything is turning out to be, as I said, 'okay.' No, actually, it's better than 'okay' because I'm secretly enjoying the extra time I get to be with Richie. He's the most agreeable and likable person I've ever known.
And then, today, after work, I finally do meet Mr. Mealey. Whoa, he's younger-looking than I expected, and he's nice-looking too. Well, considering how good-looking Richie is, his father being good-looking makes sense. Yeah, Tuesday after work, when I got to the house, Mr. Mealey was unexpectedly there. He didn't make a big deal out of our meeting, saying, "Oh, hi there! How are you doing, Mike? Sorry to hear about your troubles." I stuttered a little, mumbling, "Oh, hi, Mr. Mealey, um... that is, I want to thank you for letting me stay here."
In a rush to leave for work, he stuffs a carton of Camel cigarettes in a satchel while telling Richie that he'll be staying in Atlantic City overnight again, and then he tells me, "Hey, I ran into your mom at the drugstore a little while ago. She heard me give my name to the pharmacist when I was picking up my blood pressure meds, and she introduced herself to thank me for taking you in. She's very nice and beautiful too. I see where you get your good-looks, son."
Holy shit, that was awful nice of him to say. Caught off guard again, I stutter again, "Oh, um, thank you. Yes, my Mom is, ah, that is, thanks a lot, Mr. Mealey. I mean, um, yeah, Mom is great." He smiles at my awkwardness, and, jeez, his smile is exactly like Richie's. Anyway, he's a blackjack dealer at a casino in Atlantic City, which sounds like a cool job, and, as I said, he's in a hurry to get there, so he only mutters, "Glad to help you out. Nice meeting you, Mike," and that was it... he's out the door, and gone.
Yeah, that's all there was to it, but now I'll be able to relax further after seeing for myself that Mr. Mealey is cool with me staying here. I watch Richie wave 'goodbye' to his dad as I'm goofily grinning, feeling good about the way that introduction went. Sweet!
Richie turns to me, smiling. He pats my shoulder, mumbling, "See? I told you dad was 'good' with you staying here." I shrug as if I wasn't worried about it, but, yeah, sometimes 'things' do work out pretty 'effing good. That's a worthwhile thing for me to remember; maybe it will help me be more optimistic about life in general.
Even though everything is going okay, the next couple of days on the boardwalk, I find myself being kind of hard on Richie again. I figure since I'm sleeping at his house, I need to prove to the other guys that Richie's not the 'teacher's pet.' That's the reason I'm tough on him, and it's for Richie's benefit too. The guys might start resenting him if I was treating him special.
That sounds like a feasible rationalization, although a lot of my harsh treatment of Richie is to hide the fact that I've got unnatural desires for him. I find myself fantasizing about being intimate... being 'gay buddies,' you might say. It's getting so bad I don't know how to act when we're in his bedroom getting undressed for the night.
When we're not with the guys, though, when it's just Richie and me, I often treat him as if he's my favorite little brother, although I don't have a little brother and, anyway, Richie's basically the same age I am so he's the wrong age to be my little brother. Yeah, well, that's an example of how I'm a bit fucked up in the head where Richie's concerned.
Anyway, I've been putting my arm across his shoulders when we're walking, just us two. I've never done that with anyone before in my life, but I like the 'feel' of Richie's body. In that regard, I especially look forward to showing him wrestling 'holds.' Yeah, we wrestle most afternoons for ten minutes or so, and it's apparent to me that Richie enjoys our wrestling at least as much as I do, so...
Today, when the other guys are busy busting some poor sap's balls, I take Richie aside and treat him to hot and greasy curly fries on the boardwalk. I want to ease my guilty conscience about being hard on him by showing him some special treatment without the other guys knowing about it. After we finish eating, we're walking on the boardwalk, my arm across his shoulders again as I'm telling him, "Seriously, bro, I'm super impressed by the way you handle yourself when I'm goofing on you in front of the guys. I admire that." He grins, shrugs, and sort of leans against me, so I squeeze his shoulder, adding, "You know, while it may seem I'm a prick to you at times, you've become my favorite buddy to hang out with."
Now he turns his head to look at me, probably to see if I'm smirking or making fun of him. I'm not, but what I said was so out of the ordinary I'm even blushing a little. To cover up the blushing, I mutter, "Don't get a big head about it or anything. I'm just saying, well... yeah, well, I said what I said. You're a good friend, Richie." He still appears in shock and, frankly, so am I. That was definitely more than I intended saying, and now it occurs to me that we're walking as if we're boyfriend/girlfriend, so I take my arm off his shoulders and move away from him a little, mumbling, "Christ, don't lean on me like that!"
He has a smirking grin on his face as he mutters, "My bad." Hmm, I'm pretty sure he knows more about my feelings for him than I think he does. Well, whatever, we see the other guys on the beach, so we join them. Yeah, I got a little carried away telling Richie that embarrassing 'best buddy' bullshit. That sophomoric 'best friend' crap is dumb, but so what? I'm glad I said it.
Then, in a matter of minutes, Wildwood's normal satin summer sky quickly darkens. Oh man, we get some wicked summer thunderstorms in South Jersey, and I think we're in for one now, so I go, "C'mon, Richie, let's head for the house before we get soaked." He nods, and we run up the steps to the boardwalk and jog back to the ramp where I parked my bike. The other guys want to hang out in the storm. Yeah, they can be nuts like that.
It's become routine by now when I'm leaving the boardwalk; I bring Richie with me. Well, duh, I'm living at his house, so how could I leave him behind?
Looking up at the darkening sky, I get on the bike, and Richie hops on behind me, his arms going around my waist before I even fire up the engine. Sweet! Then, big fat raindrops hit the blacktop... splat, splat, splat! Richie's lips brush my ear as he says, "We're going to get wicked wet, Mike." I mutter, "No shit," and stomp on the starter as lightning crackles in the dark clouds, followed quickly by thunder. A lot more of the fat raindrops splatter around us as off we go.
We get out of the congested downtown area before a deluge of rain pours down on us. The rain comes down so hard and thick I can't see five feet in front of me, and we're instantly soaked to the skin. I yell, "Fuck!" and pull over to an overpass to shelter from the storm. The road quickly is inundated with an inch of rain. Neither of us says anything, both of us enthralled at the power of nature.
Richie's sitting back, but he keeps his hands on my waist, and it feels so 'right,' so perfect that he's with me, almost a part of me. I bite my bottom lip, realizing how important this boy has become to me. Yeah, I acknowledge that fact to myself, but as good as I feel about it, it also pisses me off. It pisses me off because it seems 'weak' of me to feel needy for him. That's a totally new and almost scary situation for me; caring about someone this much is almost a burden.
Thunderstorms this strong don't last long, and this one has run its course in less than ten minutes. Richie leans his head close to mine, saying, "That was really something to see, huh, Mike?" I nod my head, my dick feeling heavy as I take off, being cautious on the wet road. Dammit, I want to start treating Richie a lot better. That's a fact and the hell with my phony tough-guy act. The thing is, I keep telling myself to treat him better, but then never do much about it. The smallest deed is far superior to the best intentions in the world, so I need to do something positive!
I'm keeping the motorbike at a reasonable speed because of the wet conditions, but other than that, the weather has become delightful now; the air freshening up a lot after that quick storm. And then, appearing in the pale blue sky right in front of us is a dazzling rainbow. I've never seen a rainbow with such brilliant colors before, so I'm like, "Holy shit, Richie, look at that mother-effing rainbow!" Turning my head to watch his reaction, I see him staring up at the magnificent rainbow, his mouth slightly open, his blueish/green eyes just as dazzling as the rainbow. He goes, "Wow, the colors of that rainbow are beautiful, Mike!" Uh-huh, and so are you, but I don't say that, obviously.
Forcing that last thought from my mind, I mutter, "That fucker doesn't even look real." Yeah, well, there it is in the sky right in front of us. Oh man, I don't know, but somehow experiencing that unreal rainbow, the wonder of it with Richie, um, it gave me shivers. Yeah, I had friggin' shivers all over for a second there.
Christ, I'm turning into some kind of a nerd, allowing a rainbow to blow my mind. I need to get a grip, but that smile I saw on Richie's face! That kid has the best smile I've ever seen on anybody. I was frozen for a few seconds stupidly staring at him, but I shake my head once, turn back around and pay attention to where I'm going.
At the house, after parking and locking the bike, we walk, dripping with rain, onto the porch where I pull a soggy pack of cigarettes from my pocket, muttering, "Fuck," before tossing the useless pack of wet tobacco in the direction of the trash can at the curb. When it goes in, Richie says, "Score!" Yeah, well, we need to get out of these wet clothes.
Richie's taking wet dollar bills from his pocket and laying them on the railing to dry. I watch him do that for a minute before mumbling, "C'mon, let's get some dry clothes." He nods his head but continues laying each wet dollar bill out. Money is hard to come by for Richie, so he's extra conscientious about taking care of what little he has. I go inside and then into the bathroom, where I take off all the wet clothes. I'm thinking again how it was so unlike me to get excited about that fucking rainbow! Am I turning into a geek?
As I'm thinking that, I walk out of the bathroom naked, drying my head with a bath towel, and Richie is staring at me. Well, he's staring at my dick. There's nothing special about my dick. Okay, yeah, it is a little above average at six-plus inches; um, I think that's above-average. Ha-ha, I've never Googled penis-sizes to know for sure, but Richie's staring at it as if it is something special. Uncomfortable now, I wrap the towel around my waist, muttering, "Get out of those wet clothes and, um, maybe I'll let you suck it... suck my dick." What? Did I just say that? No, I'd never say something like that out loud... would I?
Richie's face gets bright red as he slowly pulls his wet t-shirt over his head, asking, "What was that, Mike?" Oh fuck, I did say it out loud. Five minutes ago, I promised myself to be nicer to Richie, but to save 'face' after saying that outrageousness, I act mean, saying, "You heard me. Drop your boxer shorts and get over here." He appears to be in a trance as he drops his wet shorts, and, now, as naked as me, he steps over in front of me.
What's happening here? Richie is looking at me expectantly, so I start babbling, "Ya know, ah, um, I know you've wanted to suck my dick... I mean, I like you a lot, so I'm going to do you a favor and let you do it. My girlfriends do it all the time, so it's no big deal. Ah, and now I'm wondering if a fag might do it better than a girl." What in the hell am I talking about? I've never had a blow job!
Richie still has an expression on his face like, 'what the...? He doesn't say anything, though, so I go on babbling, "Now I'll find out, um, if a guy can suck me off better than a girl, or..." I don't even know what I'm saying. It's mumbled nonsense. I feel like I'm drowning here, and why doesn't he say something? My words echo in my ears like 'thud' sounds making my ears 'pop' as I go on muttering, "Even though you're a homo, Richie, that's okay, um, I don't judge people, and, um, I like you the best, and, ah, that's, um..."
In retrospect, I realized that Richie made the first move while I said all the words. He was the brave one nodding his head as if to say... okay, let's do it then. He leaned his naked body against mine, which is what started it. I don't think I would have done anything if he hadn't done that.
But he did do it, and, dropping the towel, my arms go around him as his arms go around me, the side of his head against my shoulder. Omigod, the feel of his naked body is so sexy I need to stifle a gasp. His skin is awesomely tight and smooth. A guy's body feels so much better than a girl's body. We both shudder as we're tightly holding onto one another.
His scent is apparently acting as an aphrodisiac to me because, not knowing I was going to, I kiss him on the cheek. Oh no... I didn't just do that! I quickly mumbled, "I did that because, ah, because I know that's what you were hoping I'd do and, um, I owe you a few favors." Richie still hasn't said a word, so, as we hang onto one another, I keep mumbling my nonsense, "The kiss was a 'thank you' for when you suck my dick, and for others, ah, stuff..."
The way he's hugging me feels completely different from when we're in each other's arms wrestling. It also feels much different, in a better way, than whenever I was hugging a girl. So, that's interesting, but Richie still won't say anything, and I continue mumbling inanities, "You see, I knew you were gay, but I'm openminded and compassionate and have nothing against minorities like gays, or... um, II guess I already said that. Still, I'm willing to help out a friend too... a good friend, my best friend. That's what I'm basically telling you."
He lifts his head to look into my eyes but still doesn't say something? I murmur, "Just to show you I'm okay with you being gay," I kiss him again, on his lips, and my dick gets as hard as a steel spike. Not able to stop, I kiss his lips again. Oh, that was so good, but I'm lightheaded now and seriously worried I might faint. Richie's moans, and it sounded like a moan of desire. That encourages me, and, even better, he kisses me back and then opens his mouth slightly so our tongues can slide together.
Omigod, nothing I've ever imagined was nearly as good as this! My fingers run through his wet hair, and I notice his cock is as hard as mine. It's sticking straight up between our bellies and feels almost identical to mine, our bodies as tightly together as it's possible to be.
In one way, I don't believe I'm comprehending what's happening, but in another way, I feel I'm experiencing ecstasy for the first time in my life. How did this happen? It's as if we're both letting out all the desires, the feelings we've had for one another from when we met. The desires were previously known but kept secret. This is a hugging-and-kissing make-out how boyfriends and girlfriends do it, but I don't care anymore. Sure, before this minute, I'd have said this was an impossibility, something inconceivable, something I'd never do with another guy in a million years, but I'm glad I'm doing it.
Normally, something as unprecedented as this I'd call surreal. In this case, 'surreal' doesn't do it justice; it's way past surreal, and yet it is happening. It's as if I've suspended disbelief, suspended everything I thought I believed in to allow this impossible experience to happen. Again, it can't be happening, although it is happening. Huh, what? Um, and, what about Richie... I wonder what he's thinking?
I'm bewildered and totally lost in this quagmire of forbidden pleasure. Still, finally, I exert enough willpower to slide my lips off Richie's, and then, with just enough willpower left, push him away at arm-length and, in short gasps, mutter, "Okay... okay, since we've already crossed... um, crossed the line into insanity... ah, um, go ahead and get on your knees." He looks at me as if he wants to be sure I'm serious, so I say too loudly, "Do it before I change my mind." What mind might that be? I've lost my mind... I have no mind to change.
Richie doesn't hesitate now. He drops down to his knees, which makes me wonder for a second if he's done this with other guys? No, he hasn't! He looks too befuddled and uncertain about having ever done this before. And, he's looking at me as if he's waiting for instructions. Well, he won't get any from me. We're two novices who don't know what we're doing but bumbling on just the same.
In my 'hopefully' temporary-insanity, not knowing what else to do, I rub the head of my bone-hard dick against Richie's forehead. And, no, I don't know why I'm doing that. Hmm, Richie looks even more confused than me, and why wouldn't he be? Omigod, though, my dick is leaking pre-cum leaving a streak of wetness in its wake, so I pull my cock away, and Richie tentatively sticks out his tongue. Yeah, well, I guess that's, um, I don't know...
More aroused than I've ever been before in my life, I hold out my boner. With a shrug, Richie tentatively licks it, and my entire body shudders so hard my hand, the one holding my dick, trembles. Richie takes over by taking my boner in his fingers and then moving his tongue around the head. I can't breathe. I've never felt sensations like this... ever!
Now it's as though someone has taken control of me, an invisible puppet-master. He's in control during this awesome insanity making me say stuff, like, "Yes! More tongue, Richie, mmm, oh yeah." My voice is the puppet-masters voice, not mine. His voice is much higher pitched than mine, and it sounds as though he's having trouble breathing. Puppet strings are pulled, and my hands go to Richie's head again, my fingers in his hair as my heart pounds against my ribs, and then I almost pass out when Richie's teeth scrape my hard cock, then he jerks on it... and then sucks on it.
After maybe a minute of licking, sucking, and stroking my throbbing boner, Richie begins stroking his own cock. He strokes it in time with his stroking of mine. The head of my hard dick slides deliciously on his soft, warm tongue, sliding easily in his slippery saliva. It feels so good my other head goes back as I quietly moan, "Umm, ooh, mmm."
My climax is about to explode already; my breathing is a struggle of short gasping inhales and exhales, my hands tighten on Richie's head, and then my hips, on their own, jerk forward, forcing my hard cock into Richie's throat. Again, on their own, my hips pull back and thrust forward, creating an otherworldly spectacular series of sexual sensations such as I never knew existed.
Richie's gagging but not pulling his head away. And, just like that, I see brilliantly bright, too-bright stars exploding in my mind like the world's most extravagant fireworks as cum bursts up and out my boner. It comes out in a long stream, seemingly lasting for eternity, most of it shooting into Richie's throat. He gasps, gags, and then inhales and snorts cum out his nose. Not on purpose, obviously, but neither of us knows what we're doing. Omigod, nothing could feel this good!
Richie's having a different reaction snorting more cum from his nose and yanking his head away from me, my cock coming totally out of his mouth. I stagger back two steps, horrified at the cum coming from his nose. He gasps a huge noisy inhale while I can barely breathe at all because the sensations continue soaring from my penis, reaching my toes until they curl as the roots of the hair on my head sizzle.
Sniffing air through his nose now, clearing it of cum, Richie takes some deep breaths. I stare at him, hardly believing any of this. I'm still shuddering with pleasure as Richie again strokes his boner, once, twice, and then with a moan of pleasure or pain, out from his pretty boner comes an amazingly-long string of cum, then another... the third streak of semen is a short one. Then he lets go of his cock and sits back on his ankles, his eyes shining. I think I'm in shock standing here; I don't know what to do or say... what can I say?
Then, it's not over. Richie's hand comes off his still fairly firm penis; he looks up at me with a cocky grin on his lips and reaches over to take my dick in his fingers. I'm stupefied watching him squeeze my super-sensitive pecker, getting a bubble of cum to pop out, then he leans forward and sucks the bright pink head of my dick again. Immediately, I go up on my toes, gasping, but yeah, well, nothing should surprise me by now. Ooh, fuck, that felt good, but as he sucks on it some more, my penis becomes wicked sensitive, so I mutter, "That's enough. Let go of it, Richie." He's like, "Huh? What? Um, oh, yeah... sorry. I, ah..."
He's looking dazed, the cocky little grin is gone, and it's as though he was in a trance, or hypnotized, and just now is coming out of it. Anyway, his current confused state of mind gives me an opening to allow my phony tough-guy persona to come out, hopefully, to make it seem as if this was all 'on him'; all Richie's doing. Being a prick, I use my index finger to spread a drool of cum from his chin, moving it all around his face, saying, "From now on, when I want my dick sucked, you'll get busy sucking it, right? You'll be my personal cocksucker."
He frowns at my unwarranted and unnecessary crudeness. Then, realizing in some normal part of my brain that what I just said was absurdly out of line, I try making up for it by lightly patting his cum-smeared cheek, murmuring affectionately, "Just kidding. Hey, you did great, Richie. Are you sure that was your first time? I only asked that because it felt so special." He shrugs, probably not sure if I'm sincere or sarcastic.
I want to continue being nice to him, but I'm pissed off he won't say anything, so, grabbing his hair, pulling his head up, I ask, "Well, who are you, dude?" Shrugging again, he grins, muttering, "Um, I guess I'm your personal cocksucker, Mike." Omigod, and then he goes, "And you know what? I think I liked doing it too, and I'll bet I can do it better if you give me a chance."
Nope, I did not expect that response! I mean, what did I ever do to deserve someone as perfect as Richie? And, he doesn't care that I'm insinuating this is all on him. That's because he knows very well that it's on both of us. It occurs to me that Richie is comfortable in his own skin, much more so than I am. He's still sitting back on his ankles, so I try again to be nice, saying, "Seriously, that was awesome, Richie," as if I'd recognize an awesome blow job from a crappy one. I'm pretty sure teeth shouldn't be part of it, but...
Anyway, I'm like, "That was better oral sex than I ever got from a girl! That's for damn sure." Yeah, I guess so since I never got oral sex from a girl or anyone else. I'm like, "Ya know what? You deserve a reward. Let me help you up..." I take the hand he holds out to me and help him get to his feet, then hug and kiss him as I did before the sex. Yep, I can't fuckin' help myself. We hug and kiss a little, but when I get the sense Richie would go on doing this all night, I make myself stop, muttering, "Yeah, okay, that's, um... we're good."
This totally-impossible gay sex we just had is THE monumental event of my life so far, and I need to exert all that remains of my feeble willpower to push Richie away. Then ask a stupid question, "How long have you known you're gay?" He shrugs, "I didn't know I was. Um, until I met you, Mike." I could say the same about him, but I don't. Instead, I continue to act as if this was all about doing him a favor.
Yes, while I know perfectly well it has nothing to do with me doing him a favor, the point is.. does he know that? I go, "Yeah? Well, um, huh... that's, um... Anyhow, I felt I owed it to you to do that gay shit. I mean, you've been such a good sport about my goofing on you... my, um, ya know, that boardwalk initiation crap. It's childish, actually, but the guys, um, they expect me to do it, so..." and I shrug as though we both understand it's the guys' childish behavior.
He nods his head as if he does, but, at the same time, the smiling-smirky expression he has on his face tells me that he knows better. He won't say as much, though, because, somehow, we both understand I need time to come to grips with all this. Um, all this gay behavior. That's assuming, of course, I can ever come to grips with it.
We're both still naked, and I'd really like to get dressed before something else happens, although Richie seems comfortable. Without a better idea, I put my arm across his shoulders and try to be as blasé about all this as Richie appears to be. Without any reason for it, I guide him into the kitchen while he again insists this was his first time, and, "I don't know Mike. It's as if I did everything in a trance," and blah, blah, blah.
As I just said, there isn't any reason for us to be in the kitchen, especially naked, but we stand near the sink anyway, my brain scrambling to try coming up with what to do next. When Richie takes a breath, I mumble, "Yeah, well, um, obviously, that was the first time my dick was in a guy's mouth, but you did it so good are you sure you've never, um..." and then take the opportunity to guide us back to the bedroom as Richie's emphatically assuring me, he's never even considered doing 'that' before today. Then he adds, "But, Mike, it was so weird how it seemed 'somehow' okay for me to do it with you." I go, "Huh, that's, um, yeah, that's weird. Um, I don't know what to say about that."
Of course, I totally believe this was his first attempt at oral sex, but I keep up the facade of being slightly skeptical, saying, "I guess I believe you, but you were really good at it." He mutters, "Thanks," and without thinking about doing it, I pull him onto the bed, grinning at him and adding, "You probably wouldn't have bitten my dick twenty times if you were experienced, right?"
Then it seems we're both startled that we're lying together on the bed naked. I certainly am! Richie recovers quickly though grinning mischievously at me, asking sarcastically, "Are we wrestling?" Oh, good save! I mutter, "Well, what's it look like?" and I get his arm up behind his back. He struggles, snickering a little, but after a few seconds of awkwardness, we give up on the wrestling charade and cuddle face to face without talking. Richie looks serious now, our chests heaving and our hearts pounding too fast against each other.
Our brief cuddle morphs into us, rubbing our bodies lightly against one another, still not saying anything. Soon, we're openly grinding our once again hard boners together, both of us becoming enormously aroused while moaning quietly as if we're animals in heat. I'm embarrassed by my helplessness, by my neediness for him, but I finally manage to gasp out the words, "Since you like doing it so much." I suck in some oxygen, then add, "I'll let you suck my cock again."
Richie is such a cute motherfucker I need to force myself to look away from him to keep from staring, and two seconds later, Omigod, Richie's mouth is on my boner again, and it's not long before I have another incredible climax. I kept looking away the whole time, my eyes closed, so I don't know if he jerked off or not. This is all completely impossible to be happening. Yeah, I keep having that thought 'cause all of it feels so good, um, so impossibly good!
Afterward, with both of us breathing deeply, I have Richie in my arms, my heart pounding so hard against his chest he has to feel it. He must feel my entire body vibrating as well, as I mutter, "Don't worry, Richie, I won't tell the guys you're a cocksucker. I'll keep your secret." I couldn't look him in the eyes when I said that, so I don't know what his expression is when he says, with a sarcastic hint to his voice, "Oh, wow, thanks, Mike." Heh-heh, I deserve to hear sarcasm after saying that bullshit. Richie knows I wouldn't want anyone to know I let a guy sucked me off.
I'm still holding him close, amazed that he seems so comfortable while I'm not, but helplessly unable to let go of him at the same time. I hate letting go, but when I notice the clock on the nightstand showing five-thirty, I start worrying his old man might come home. Plus, it's a bit early to go to bed. Ha-ha, yeah, we haven't even eaten dinner yet, but this feeling of being on the bed naked together is so, um, so new, so irresistible. Well, no, I'm not adequately describing how good this feels because I don't have the words to adequacy describe how good this feels but, once again, I can tell Richie isn't objecting, and he isn't likely to object any time soon, which is wicked nice, but we REALLY NEED to get off this bed!
Stifling a sigh, I mutter, "We gotta get up, Richard," and I take my arms away. We roll off opposite sides of the bed and silently get dressed as I'm thinking... 'Can I even believe I'm probably in love with a boy?' Jeez, I'm pretty sure I am, and admitting that to myself was easier than I thought it would be. On the other hand, admitting it to him, Richie, or anybody else... another impossibility.
He's dressed, asking, "Do you think that fantastic rainbow we saw this afternoon somehow sprinkled magic on us, Mike? Something happened, huh?" I frown, going, "Please! What a crock of horseshit that is!" He shrugs and grins, saying again, "Well, something happened." Yeah, seriously, whatever it was allowing this to happen, I'm grateful for it, but I have nothing to add, so I shrug and pat Richie's back. He's so awesome!
Yeah, he is, but now that it's over, I realize how humiliating and embarrassing it would be if anyone knew we did what we did. That thought makes me fall back on my phony cool-tough-guy act again. While tying my sneakers, I give Richie a hard look, saying, "Don't expect a repeat of all that gay shit any time soon." Then, in my head, I finish that thought with... not until bedtime anyway. Richie nods his head, mumbling, "I know."
Later, for dinner, we eat sub sandwiches at Dimarco's sub shop off Fifth Street, and then ride to the boardwalk and meet up with a couple of the guys. Richie won't tell our secret... no way he'd do that! Yeah, no one will ever know about our gay-sexy roommate-shenanigans. Feeling safe in that regard, I share a few knowing glances about our incredible secret with Richie. He smiles 'knowingly' back at me, and I can't help grinning because he's so fucking perfect. We manage not to give ourselves away by hugging and kissing on the boardwalk... ha-ha! Yeah, fat chance of that ever happening.
That night we take separate showers, and then it's Richie's turn to sleep in the bed. Standing next to the bed, he hesitantly asks me if I want to share the bed with him. Sweet! I pretend to be too tired to argue and, instead, shrug and get in bed under the sheet. He mutters, "Cool," and gets in next to me. It's a struggle keeping my hands off him, but I manage to stay on my side of the bed, trying to sort all this out. Ya know, what I should do about it... if anything.
He's right that we somehow got into that oral sex shortly after seeing that incredible rainbow. And, yeah, he appears to believe our gay sex had something to do with the rainbow, but that's too corny and absurd for me. Yeah, it is, but at the same time, it's kind of, um, kind of a romantic idea too. Rainbows don't happen every day, though, so waiting for another one to get us doing sex again seems like a long shot. Hmm, so how can I make it appear as though Richie initiates a repeat performance, san rainbow?
I'm only half-joking with myself about that, and then I get serious because I should be devastated by this 'gay' development. Why aren't I? If not devastated, why am I not at least more disturbed about it than I am? I not only allowed myself to participate in all that gayness with Richie, but I got swept up in it, and even worse, I got turned on by it like nothing else in my life has ever turned me 'on.'
So, why even bother lying to myself? I mean, sure, I admit being infatuated with a few other guys before this major infatuation for Richie, but, no, I never thought for one minute of acting on those earlier mysterious forbidden desires. The fact that I did it with Richie is what should be devastating to me, but it's not.
No, I know I liked it too much to pretend I'm devastated. Frankly, it's more a sense of relief I'm feeling, relief to experience, um, something sexual finally. That's probably the answer to my query of why I'm not devastated; I've finally been sexual with another person. Wait for a second here... I just used the word 'query'? That's an odd word for me to use! I can't ever recall using that word before in my life. Hmm, it sounds a lot like the word, um... No, forget it! And... that was my last thought before sleep overtakes me. Yeah, sleep... the closest thing to death we humans experience, um, before the real deal, that is.
Four o'clock the next morning, my cell phone beeps me awake, and the very first thing on my mind is Richie. And, yep, there he is right next to me, looking as cute when sleeping as he does when awake. I stare at his lips, remembering how they felt against mine. At that thought, my groin pulses, and I quickly slide out of bed and pad into the bathroom. Mr. Mealey stayed overnight in Atlantic City again, and thank God for that! I don't need to worry about waking him.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I decide to shave my upper lip and chin. I care about looking, um, what... young? I know I look young for my age anyway. Do I want to look my best for him, for Richie? Is that it? And why the fuck am I thinking about shit like this? It's been like this ever since I met that kid. What have I got myself into? I'm spiraling into a hole I'll never get out of, not unless I change the direction I'm heading immediately. Yeah, but how can I change the way I feel about him? You can't switch emotions on and off when it's convenient. That fucking boy is driving me nuts!
Quickly shaving and then brushing my teeth, I fight off any more thoughts about Richie and, instead, think about what I need to do on the job today. Oh, man, he's in my head, though, Richie is. Before I leave, I need to take another quick look at him, and when I do, he's looking right back at me with his incredible smile. I give him the finger and smirk at him, then take off, grinning. Damn, that boy is cute!
Working at the farm in July is hot work. The sun is relentless, and all of us workers are sweating bullets by eight o'clock. There's very little chatter, so my mind is once again mostly about last night's gay activities. That's the first sex I've ever had with a boy or a girl. I was a virgin in every possible way, and now I'm not. Hmm, does oral sex count, though? Maybe I'm still a virgin in the truest sense of the word, and, Omigod, why am I thinking geeky thought again?
Well, for one thing, last night's gay sex was more special than I expected it would be. It's also frightening to imagine someone finding out that I allowed a guy to blow me, especially considering I kissed and hugged the guy afterward? Jesus, that might be construed as me being very GAY! Yeah, duh!
And, Omigod, what would Danny think, what would my mom think, what would my 'gang' think? Nobody I know would think it's okay. I need to figure out if the sex is special enough to make taking the chance of someone finding out worth doing 'it' again. I don't think Richie cares if someone knows he did what he did. After all, he initiated everything. Well, he did! So maybe he'd already decided he doesn't care who knows.
It's like this: what should have happened is, when I told him I'd let him blow me, he should have taken it as a sick joke and said sarcastically, 'Oh, sure, right away" or something like that. Every guy I know would have, but, oh no, Richie had to take it seriously and then actually do it. Yeah, but I'm back to the reality that... I LET HIM DO IT.
Goddammit, that kid has put me in the terribly awkward position of him having something 'on' me. Something to hang over my head if he got really pissed off at me. He could threaten to tell everyone. Well, I'm not going to be held hostage by that threat, not that Richie ever would do that. Yeah, but the reality of that 'possible' scenario is sinking in now. Holy shit!
Okay, to bolster my contention that it was all done as a favor to him and nothing more, I'm going to get my stuff from his house and move into that dump of a motel and fuck what it cost. That will prove I don't want any more of Richie's gay bullshit. I've paid him back for all my bullying, and now... that's that.
As I'm thinking those deep thoughts, I hear my buddy Denny, from the other side of the monster machine, yelling, "Mike, what's wrong? C'mon, catch up, bro!" Huh? Oh fuck, I'm five yards behind everyone! Then, my arms get cut from the sharp leaves of the corn stalk catching up. That fucking Richie!
After work, dripping with sweat, I'm riding my bike to the house, intent on taking a shower, and then clearing out my stuff and checking into a motel. I'm not gay like Richie. He's been a bad influence on me from the first day I met him. I'm the one who's been suffering from gay thoughts while Richie appears fine with the gay stuff. Plus, he's casually become best friends with most of the guys in my 'gang', so maybe he will tell. That's why I've got to move out. That will show I'm appalled by Richie's behavior.
Yeah, all the guys are falling for Richie's act, that friendly-smiling-and-never-making-waves 'act' of his. Christ, Tiny Dick and Mac are the only ones who see-through Richie's 'goody-two-shoes' act. Mac basically ignores Richie while Tiny bullies him. Yeah, Tiny's always got Richie around the neck and bent over in embarrassing positions, or he's mocking Richie and sending him on errands... the prick. Hmm, Richie appears to like Tiny's bossiness, though! Two-faced; that's what Richie is.
At the house, I use the key Richie gave me to let myself in. I NEED a shower! Not taking one after sweating my balls off at work is not an option. I'll do that and then clear out of here. I look at the bed in the bedroom and notice that Richie has changed the sheets and made the bed up perfectly. Everything is so neat in here.
That's another trick of his; he's conscientious as a motherfucker. Then, my eyes start stinging. What the fuck? I never cry, and why would I cry now? Sitting on the bed, my head in my hands, I realize I don't want to move into a motel. I don't want to leave here; I don't want to leave HIM. Finding myself in this situation isn't all Richie's fault. It's mostly his fault, but not ALL his fault. I need to give him another chance.
As usual, I feel so, um, so alone. There isn't anyone I can talk to, and what would I say to them if there was someone? Maybe everybody on earth is alone, alone in most ways. Hey, is this what feeling sorry for myself feels like? Fuck that! Getting up off the bed, I get undressed and shower while not thinking about anything. Then, refreshed after the shower, I'm getting dressed when, all of a sudden, I say out loud, "I'm not leaving."
No, I'm not leaving because that would be the same thing as running away from a fight, or sort of like that. I'm staying, but there will be no more gay shit, and that's definite! I'm telling Richie that 'rule' right off the bat.
As I ride my bike to the boardwalk, I'm mellowing-out, thinking more clearly. It was good sorting out in my head all the possible moves I could make. It gave me the time to get all the negativity out and be rational by eliminating emotionally-charged-impulses like abruptly leaving. No, leaving is not in my best interest. I mean, what would I tell people my reason for doing that was? The much better approach is staying but setting Richie straight about the gay shit. That oral sex was a one and done deal or, um, two and done, actually. Okay, we experimented in a weak moment, and now we go on with our lives as normal teens. I don't hate him or anything, but that gay stuff he likes so much can't continue. I'll be nice about telling him it's over. Nice because Richie's basically very nice himself.
Parking and locking the bike at a boardwalk ramp, I go up on the boards, and there's Richie with four of my boys, all of them laughing their nuts off about something. Huh, Richie's like the pearl among a bunch of oysters. What? Why would I have an outrageously stupid thought like that?
Well, I simply meant he's so, um, so good-looking and clean-cut compared to the 'pirate' appearance of most of the guys, and Richie's smile is so awesome. Hell, I'm grinning from just watching him laughing. Then Tony sees me and yells, "There's Mike!" The guys all come over to tell me some convoluted story about why they were laughing. I'm not listening very closely, though, as I'm mostly concentrating on not looking at Richie.
Work sucked today, but even so, there were a couple of funny incidents during lunch that I tell the guys about. Yeah, a couple of girls applied for jobs today, and the foreman tested them. We all got a laugh from the foreman explaining how he quickly blew them off. Jesus, I wish I hadn't used the 'blew them off' phrase. What happened was, the foreman asked the girls to try lifting some of the bushels of corn and, of course, they couldn't. It was the way he told the story that was so funny. He's a funny fucker.
I'm embellishing the story to get laughs. Later, I hugged a couple of guys around the neck, rough-house style, purposely not doing it with 'him.' Then, we have pizza and sodas, smoke too many cigarettes, get yelled at by the boardwalk cops, and, generally-speaking, spent a very normal couple of hours on the boardwalk.
Feeling apprehensive about confronting Richie, telling him about the cessation of gay activities, I put off leaving until much later than normal. When I can't put it off any longer, I mumble to Richie, "Let's go, numbnuts; I'm wicked tired." He comes right over with his irresistible smile and cute face, asking, "Can we stop for Chinese food again tonight, Mike? I'll buy it."
Trying to be gruff, getting myself ready for the confrontation, I mutter, "Christ! Chinese again?" He shrugs and quietly says, "Or whatever you want for dinner." After giving him a hard 'look,' I ride us to the Chinese restaurant and smoke a cigarette while Richie goes in to order our take out and, while I'm smoking, I let the thought drift into my head that maybe I don't need to make a big deal out of laying down the 'no-gay-sex' law. I don't actually need to say anything. I'll simply refuse to participate in any gay sex with him. I'll just say 'no.' That's a much more mature approach. After all, Richie follows my lead, so when I nicely tell him 'no,' he'll just accept it.
That's a better idea by far. Then, after riding to the house, I'm watching the always cheerful Richie carrying the bag of Chinese take-out containers inside, and my heart starts beating faster than a motherfucker. Yeah, no matter my best intentions of telling Richie 'no'... I don't want to say 'no.' I can't help myself. He's too desirable, desirable in every way I can think of. I mean, look at him for Christ's sake!
Be that as it may, after eating dinner, I get impatient waiting for him to initiate something so, still managing to be a prick about it, I mumble some bullshit story about me looking for a girl to blow me and, unable to find one, he'll need to do it. Yeah, after all my musings today about Richie being a bad influence... I initiate our oral sex!
Then, honestly, what happens after that is a blur to me. My brain is so fucked up I don't know my ass from my elbow. Well, I mean, I know he's on his knees, pulling my jeans down and picking up my dick in his perfect fingers. What am I saying? Perfect fingers? Why the fuck would I think he has perfect fingers?
To make it even more embarrassing for me, I have the beginnings of a boner before he even touches my dick. It's almost a boner from me anticipating this blow job from the perfect gay friend imaginable... the perfect SECRET gay friend. I'm lost!
This time Richie doesn't act unsure of himself, starting right in licking my dick. My fingers, on their own, run through his light brown hair. He does a long lick up my cock and then begins sucking on the head, then rubbing it against the inside of his cheek. Omigod... ecstasy! I think I'm mumbling encouragement, although I'm not sure of the words exactly. When the sensations have me going up on my toes, I moan, "Ah, ooh, umm!" His eyes look up at me, and we smile at each other. Holy shit, yeah, Richie still has a beautiful smile, even smiling around my hard cock. And, Jesus, that is really something special to see.
My cock is a steel rod, and after less than two minutes of incredible stimulation from Richie's mouth, plus several sharp teeth bites, I need to cum so bad it's almost painful. And, like the first time, without knowing what I was intending doing, I get his head between my hands and thrust my hard cock into his throat. We're both new to sex, amateurs at this oral sex thing, so the thrill of doing it is extra mind-blowingly intense. Richie's gagging, but he doesn't appear to mind, and I can't stop thrusting my boner in his throat... nothing has ever felt this good.
I'm pulling his hair to keep his head back as I moan with pleasure, "Oooh. Ummm." Somewhere in my brain, I realize Richie has taken his arms from around my legs, and he's stroking his cock, although I'm mostly concentrating on the sizzling sensations coming off my penis... sensations that feel otherworldly! Then, in between my moans of sexual pleasure, I glance down at him and see his climax explode. It's an impressive long stream of cum shooting out wicked fast going between my legs. Quickly turning my head, I see his cum-shot splashing off the bottom drawer of the bureau. Christ, that was so cool!
Also, sexy as hell, and seconds later, worlds collide as my climax explodes. Holy shit! I almost pass out, shuddering all over. The power of my climax was incredible. Most of it shoots down Richie's throat, and, like the first time, he's snorting cum out his nose, but he quickly clears his sinuses. I compliment him enthusiastically, "Fuck, that was awesome, Richie! You did great."
He's nodding his head, looking quite proud of himself; I add, "I was thinking about you doing 'it' all day." We're both smiling again, but, Jesus H. Christ, I can hardly believe what I'm saying. I mean, I sound more golly-gee-whiz than Richie. That isn't me! And Goddammit, did I just say I was thinking about this all day? I meant I was thinking about not doing it all day... or, oh, never mind.
But, dammit, look how proud Richie is. Oh man, he's really something! I tussle his hair, saying, "Your sweet lips on my dick... and me fucking your cute face, what a blast, bro! What a team we are."
What am I saying? 'Sweetlips?' I've got to shut the fuck up! Stop this golly-gee-whiz bullshit! Well, I can't say anything more anyway because Richie's on his feet, his lips against mine. I make a gulping sound in my throat as we fall back on the bed to hug and kiss. I think we do some French kissing. I'm not positive about that, but it's what I call French kissing anyhow, and Richie seemed to like it.
Hmm, whatever kind of kissing it is, it's blatantly obvious I'm unable to resist doing it with him. Why should I even bother trying not to? It's one thing to spout off to myself about how fucked-up doing this gay shit with him is, but then it's a totally different story when I'm with him. And, I'm not fooling him; he can tell I'm as 'into' him as he is into me.
Nonetheless, we're both still pretending I'm doing him a favor--Richie's magnanimous like that. I could eat him up! We hug and kiss too long, though, and it's me who again manages to put a stop to it. Then, I'm joking around that I know he'd love taking a shower with me. Which is admitting I'd love to take a shower with him.
We both joke about it but don't do it. I shower first, and then Richie takes his shower. After we've done the gay sex, like last time, I feel guilty about doing it, so, consequently, I'm quiet during dinner and then go to bed early. Well, I have been up since four o'clock this morning. Tomorrow I'll get to sleep much later because I don't have work. Richie stayed up, so I'm not sure if he intends to sleep in the bed with me again tonight. I didn't have the balls to ask.
When I wake up, Richie's in bed right beside me, and, as usual, he's smiling. He was awake before me and staring at me, apparently. Well, I'm glad he had the balls to get in bed with me even though it was his turn in the sleeping bag. I can't help smiling back at him. We've done the oral sex two days in a row, and, yeah, we're going to keep doing it. We're going to keep sleeping together as well. We're gay, so why wouldn't we?
Chapter seven of nine will follow in a week... or so. donnymumford@outlook.com
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