Mikey and Me

By jack.straight

Published on Nov 6, 2018

Gay

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I thought 20 miles would exhaust us. Behold, the human mind: screwing itself into trouble then rationalizing a way out.

Screwing, literally: I had fucked my girlfriend's brother in the tent last night-- fucked him deliriously, fucked him till we lost the need to speak, fucked him till he begged me to cum inside him. I did, as deeply as I could.

We slept the night, our naked bodies nestled. Today, I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, could not stop, literally all day, from thinking about him, from the sweet to the wicked: loving his sweet, buoyant personality, visualizing his tight little ass wrapped around my dick and the look on his face in the throes of being taken.

But I had another problem. And that was that his sister, my girlfriend, was picking us up in two days.

So I did what any rational human would: I hiked us out. Did two decent length days in one. Took a pace that would knock us out as soon as we set up camp.

That should work.

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We were exhausted--that's a fact. Didn't have the energy to set up a campfire. I cooked up chili from a dry mix over my little Coleman stove as Mikey set up the tent.

We had not talked much that day. For me, the conflict was too wide a gap to cross. I loved Mikey, wanted to be with him, wanted to be inside him. But I can't be with him. Because I loved his sister too. For Mike, I don't know. Maybe he was happy with the situation. Maybe he was aware of the conflict. Maybe he was in love.

Once dinner was ready, we slid into the tent to eat it. The night had gotten cold--felt like the weather might be shifting--and we had no fire tonight to huddle around.

We slurped at the too-hot chili, too hungry to wait, too painful to eat. Mike took our finished bowls, stacked them in the corner of the tent. We were too tired to do the dishes.

We hadn't said a word.

"Last night..." I somewhat-bravely started.

Mikey slid into his sleeping bag, leaned on his elbow, looked up at me.

"...I won't say that I didn't want to do what we did. Because I did. I really, really did. And to be honest with you, I've been thinking about it all day."

Mikey's face lit up. He'd been thinking about it all day too.

"I'm in a tough place, Mikey."

"I know." Mikey's eyes teared up just slightly, feeling for my situation. Weird: do I want to fuck this kid more because of his empathy?

"So why don't we just talk tonight, understand better what's going on. That way we can make some good decisions and not hurt anybody's feelings."

He nodded. I continued.

"So: are you gay or what?"

Mikey smiled, closed his eyes, turned his head. He'd wrestled with this.

"I don't know. I mean, I'm totally attracted to guys. Like, 100%. So I guess, yeah, that makes me gay. But I'm not into the whole being gay thing. You know? I don't like Erasure. I don't go out to the clubs. I haven't given two thoughts in my life to Britney Spears."

"But you like guys? You're attracted to `em?"

"Men, yeah. Masculine guys. Straight guys..."

"Hmm."

"Like you."

"Like me..."

"Yeah. I, uh... I mentioned this last night. I feel bad, and I don't want to make it weird, but... I've been... I've been attracted to you since I first met you."

I worked out my discomfort by wriggling around in my sleeping bag.

"You're just, like, my ideal, man. You're nice. You're hot. You're smart. You're loving..."

Now this kid's talk was giving me a boner.

"And you're just... a fucking stud, man. And I haven't met anyone I love as much as I love you."

I was so tempted to grab him right then and fuck him senseless. But no, I was behaving tonight. Last night? We were fucked up. We were high and drunk. That's a built-in excuse. But tonight we were sober, and I had to act like it--despite my throbbing dick that could barely be concealed by my sleeping bag.

"Have you tried dating?"

"Yeah, I've used the apps a little bit. Met some OK guys, actually. Some who were a little too queen-y for me, others who just weren't good-looking enough. No one who's confident."

"Do you get laid?"

"Sure, yeah. I've fooled around a little bit. Made out, sucked each other off. I've even fucked a couple of guys."

"Do you get fucked ever?"

Mike shook his head. "Last night was the first time."

We fell silent. My dick was so hard I think I could hear my pulse beating through it.

He leaned forward towards me. "We could give each other massages. You know, after the long day."

I gave him a do-you-think-I-was-born-yesterday look.

"Nice try, Mikey." He laughed and sighed, collapsed onto his back. The quick move hadn't worked; now he moved into the slow-play.

"What about you? You ever fool around with guys before?"

"A couple of times. In high school." Mike sat up again, watched me closely.

"Who with?"

"My buddy Pete. He's actually come out recently, but he was in the closet--even to himself--back then.

"We hung out all the time in high school. We used to be pretty active--played Ultimate together, went rock climbing, drank beers...

"One night, we were at my house. It was probably 12:30 or 1 in the morning. Everyone was asleep, we were kinda high and delirious. Started talking about sex. He asked what I think about when I jerk off. I told him the usual: girls, fucking, whatever.

"He told me he sometimes thinks about guys. I was intrigued so I asked him to tell me more. He said he dreams about guys with big dicks, jerking them off... maybe sucking them off. I started to get hard, and he asked me if he could jerk me off. I nodded and I closed my eyes.

"So he reached into my pants and slid his hand down my dick. It was already hard. He pulled my pants halfway down, sorta like you did earlier. He leaned into me and... absolutely made love to my penis with his hand."

"I lasted a couple of minutes. Then I shot a huge load. All over him. He was dressed in grey cargo shorts and a Grateful Dead t-shirt, I remember. Plus a huge load of cum."

Mike sneakily reached down inside his sleeping bag to jerk his own dick.

"We did that a couple more times. We were always high. He always got me off. One time he stroked himself while he did me. He came when I did. That was hot. One other time I let him suck me. I think it was his first time. It was definitely mine. It felt pretty good."

"Where did you cum that time, when he sucked your dick?" Mike, pressing for the relevant details. He was working himself inside his bag, thinking somehow that I couldn't tell.

"I think I pulled out and shot it on his face." Mike was working himself full-on now. "That turn you on, Mikey?" He stopped momentarily, looked up, bashful. "It's alright buddy, I get it. Truth be told, I'm a little turned on myself right now."

A little?

"You know when we get back, I should introduce you to Pete. He's a real nice guy. He's a year older than me, so he's not that much older than you. But he's a good dude. Still into hiking. Still a man's man."

"That's cool, that's cool... but..." Mikey trailed off.

"But what, Mike?"

Mike stared me in the eyes. "I don't want Pete--"

Our hearts pulsed. All my senses were acute.

A second lasted an eternity.

"--I want you."

Another pulse, another half-beat of silence.

Then ripping at sleeping bags, pressing of mouths, throbbing erections drilling holes into each other's hips. We made out with the last of our energy. I reached down, ripped his briefs off, pulled my boxer briefs off. We were buck naked, pressed against each other, trying to make as much skin contact as we could. I reached around the back of his neck, pressed his head into mine. We exchanged tongues, roughly.

I climbed on top of him, pressed myself between his legs. My huge boner was already in position near his tender asshole.

I was so horned up I knew I would blow inside him in two minutes. I stalled, wanting to enjoy this for just a little longer. I played with his pecs, massaging them roughly, pinching his nipples. He whined. His hands stroked my shoulders, felt my chest, ran down my abs.

I pulled his arms above his head, stuck my nose in his armpit. It smelled like young man's sweat and B.O. from five days without a shower.

That sent me over the edge.

"I'm gonna fuck you."

He scrambled, reaching for something that he shoved into my hand. A travel bottle of lube. Where was this last night when I fucked him using olive oil? I thought. The olive oil did do the trick, though...

I squirted two, three pumps on his ass. I stuck my middle finger down there, roughly pushed it up inside him. Two, three more pumps. Got my finger in so the rest of my hand was against his ass.

I coated my dick with my other hand. I pulled my finger out, then pressed my dick against him. I looked him in the eye.

He gasped as I popped inside him. Sober, no booze to ply us, no weed to weaken our defenses, we could feel every bit of the entry: the stroke of my cockhead on his rear wall, the pressure, warmth, tightness of his ass clinching me.

I slid in gently, but I was rock-fucking-hard and huge right then. "Oh, fuck..." cried Mike, one-quarter in pleasure, three-quarters in pain.

I wanted him to feel all the way fulfilled. I held the cockhead where it was. He was gripping me tightly at his rim. I held my dick there, pressed my hands into his chest to relax him, soothe him. After a few pulses, his breathing went deeper, his leg muscles less tense, and his ass loosened.

I slid further in, insistently. God did I want to fuck him.

I looked down--I was halfway in. "How does that feel?"

He looked at me, the pain subsiding some. He choked up. "It feels good."

I pulled out a bit, squirted some more lube on my dick, then worked deeper into him. I repeated the process a couple more times until I sank myself all the way inside him.

My thick pubes pressed up against his soft butt. I looked into his eyes again. "Do you feel that? I'm all the way inside you now."

Mike nodded quickly. This was only the second time he'd had a dick inside him. And at seven-and-a-half thick inches, mine was pretty big. His legs were bent at the hip to let me in. They were probably pretty sore from the day. I reached down and unconsciously massaged the undersides of his thighs. He moaned. I kept it up, working my thumb deeply into his hamstrings. He moaned louder. I worked my hands down to his asscheeks, massaged them hard, deeply.

"Oh, Jesus," he groaned.

We held there for another minute, my balls pressed against his sweet ass, my dick impaling his tight hole.

I leaned down, kissed him on the lips. I could feel the electricity return.

As I pulled away, he purred, "you can fuck me now."

"OK, baby."

I thrust in a little bit harder, deeper. He yelped. Then I drew out a couple of inches, rammed back into him. He cried out. I looked for a rhythm, hitting his ass hard and deep, knowing that after staring at this beautiful ass all day and finally getting my chance to be inside it that I wouldn't last long. I was going to get my money's worth.

I rammed him on repeat. He cried out each time I hit him deep. I pinned his hands again above his head, pushing the whole weight of my torso on top of him, kissing him strangely, rubbing his dick against my abs. I fucked him like an animal.

I began to grunt each time I hit him deep. He bayed constantly, like the pain and pleasure together were too much to contain.

My grunts got louder. I could feel his deep insides squeezing me, trying to make me cum. I tried to hold back. My dick swelled to the biggest it has ever been.

I rutted him like a bull. I lost my conscious mind as I thrust my rock hard cock deep inside of him. I have no idea if I lasted 30 seconds or 15 minutes. I don't know... I just fucked him. So natural.

When my dick reached its maximum, I shot my cum deep inside him, yelling out as I did. I kept pumping, shooting load after load inside of him, pushing each of the last shots deeper and deeper inside of him.

He took it like a champ, kept his body in position to take the hard fuck I put to him.

When my orgasm began to subside, I looked down again. He had a look in his eye of animalistic pride, satisfied at having pleased his man. It had a female quality to it--not a passive female look, but the look of a strong, wild creature devoted to fulfilling completely a strong, male friend.

I saw a wetness on his chest, felt it on mine too--he had shot his load while I was fucking him.

I collapsed, finally exhausted by the day. I lay next to him. We breathed deeply and slowly.

A light rain began to fall.

If I'd had the energy to think at that point, I might have realized that we had now lost our excuse--sure, we'd fucked when we were fucked up. But now we had fucked stone sober.

I was too tired to think. I draped my arm over him. He turned his head and kissed my hair. We fell asleep.


If you liked the story, send me a note at jack.straight@hotmail.com.

Next: Chapter 4


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