Waiting for a Miracle

WAITING FOR A MIRACLE

by Donny Mumford

Chapter 20 'Is this a Miracle?'

In my PJ's, I'm having a rare Sunday morning breakfast with Mom and Dad. My main purpose of the breakfast is to reassure them my eye surgery was a success. Sure, my eyes still hurt a little and my vision is still kinda fuzzy but, obviously, I'm not mentioning either of those two factors. Instead, I cheerfully say, "The Lasik surgery went perfectly. I have twenty-twenty vision without my glasses. It's almost a miracle, totally awesome!"

They're not as thrilled as I am, and as mom puts a plate of fried eggs and bacon in front of me, she says, "Your eyes are very bloodshot, Matthew. You need to call the doctor! Omigod, I was so worried something like this would go wrong." I'm like, "Nothing went wrong, Mom. My eyes will clear up in a day or two. Everything went perfectly."

Dad gives me a 'look' while making a grunting sound in his throat, and mom says, "You're a very nice-looking boy with eyeglasses. I don't know why you felt you needed to have that expensive surgery." I go, "Yes, it was stupidly expensive. The whole procedure took like fifteen minutes, BUT, it would cost a lot more buying stupidly overprice eyeglasses for the rest of my life." Dad says, "I'm sure you're right long-range, Son, but you need money now to pay for night college courses." I mumble, "Uh-huh, I see your point, Dad." See I'm being maturely gracious about their unwarranted criticisms and negativity.

Then, understandably, they're very curious about what the surgery entailed, so I tell them as much of it as I recall. I'm like, "Well, as I said, it was only a fifteen-minute procedure, and the actual Lasik surgery was less than one minute per eye. You wouldn't believe the StarWars machine and, blah, blah. blah..." Hmm, I did my best to get the details accurate, but their response was to act suspiciously as if I'm not telling them the whole story.

Anyway, after that, we have a short discussion about me not going to today's Sunday cookout. I hardly ever go to the cookouts so it's not unusual that I'm not going to this one, and so that conversation peters out quickly. Next, as a reminder, I excitedly mention that in two weeks Mickey and I will be moving into our apartment.

Yeah, well, Mom and dad aren't willing to share my excitement about that either. Basically, they don't want to talk about it. The only comment was from Dad who waved his hand, mumbling, "I hope it works out for you, Son," and from mom, "I can't for the life of me understand why you need your own place when you have a perfectly fine room of your own here." That's all they had to say about that. I shrug but hold my tongue realizing they don't understand.

Having done the best I could bringing mom and dad up to date with my life, I finish my breakfast and get ready for another good day here on earth. First, I spend too much time combing my hair trying to get it to look just right, then brush my teeth again while deciding what I'll wear today.

Yeah, I've become conscientious about looking as good as I can, and, yes, it's all in an effort to impress Mickey. He's improved so much in his appearance and what he wears that I no longer grab just anything that's handy to wear. I chose clothes that are 'casual', casual but also 'appear' to be something I just threw on. That's tricky as there's a fine line between wearing clothes that are too, um, neat or too new-looking, and ones that are too much the other way.

What I'm aiming for is 'stylishly sloppy'. Oversized shirts are a good example of a 'cool' look, also too-long shorts but with the correct waist... stuff like that. Not too-oversized or too-long though, um, oh, fuck... ya gotta know what you're doing. Mickey learned what's cool to wear from observing me and now he often does it better than me, so I'm extra conscious of my choices.

I'm extra conscientious about my appearance too and that's to compensate for a couple of areas I've decided need improvement. Specifically, I can still be childish at times and I haven't made nearly the progress Mickey has in random social situations. Neither one is a huge deal, but Mickey has mentioned those items in passing and I took notice. The fact is, I'm probably more conscious of those shortcomings than he is.

Anyway, I've decided to emphasize what I think Mickey feels is my best feature... um, he thinks I'm cute. Yeah, well, that's what he says. So that's why I'm doing everything I can to highlight my appearance. That was my main reason for rushing into the Lasik surgery, for example, and it's why I was so willing to get my ear pierced, as well as why I hardly hesitated with Mickey's idea for my haircuts, and, so forth. Maybe this is pathetic of me, as I'm sure some would claim, but it's the approach I'm going with, so fuck you if you don't like it, okay?

Anyway, when I think I'm as ready as I can be for the day, I take one last look at myself in my bedroom mirror and decide, 'Nope, I should shave'. My skimpy beard looks cool when I don't shave for a couple of days; then I'm 'styling'. The fourth day without shaving, however, slips into a 'look', that 'says'... this guy doesn't give a shit how he looks. That's the area my skimpy beard is at right now. It takes three minutes to shave and put on the aftershave lotion Mickey uses. I like the scent of that aftershave lotion, not just because he uses it.

Finally, at eleven-fifteen, I get Mickey's texts that he's on his way. Good! Outside my house, I'm waiting at the curb to be picked up in my car because, obviously, it's not safe for me to be driving the day after Lasik surgery. Other than that, I'm in an overall excellent frame of mind because Mickey and I are totally copacetic about, um, well, about everything. As I said, those couple of things he's mentioned as my shortcomings aren't a real problem; basically we're golden! With the attitude I have today, what could possibly go screw this day up?

That's right, Mickey and I have no disagreements or axes to grind about anything important, and that makes my life wonderfully relaxing. And, I've no concerns on my mind that keep me awake at night. I have only good thoughts of Mickey and me living together. We're on the same page agreeing to share the workload of whatever workload there is living away from home. Things like cleaning, shopping for groceries, cooking... whatever the fuck. And, as far as Mickey's and my relationship plans go, they're simple; he's the leader, he's 'the guy' as he puts it, and I'm the other, the subordinate partner in our friendship/love-affair. Yep, I know my place, and Mickey knows his.

Yeah, and if that means he's gonna be a bit bossy sometimes, and it does mean that, I'm fine with it. We've talked about that any number of times and concluded that that's just the way it's gonna be. Mickey doesn't back down when he thinks he's right, he always sticks up for himself and his beliefs. And, he's totally won me over that he's 'right' almost all the time too.

Yeah, ya see he's mature, especially for his age, and he always has been. That's one of the reasons he got the 'nerd' label... he was too mature in middle and high school, he has too much common sense for his age. The nerd label wore him down after a while and he turned into an introvert. That is my analysis of why Mickey was the way he was when we met; my analysis, not his. All that has changed during the three-plus months we've been together.

Mickey has just the right amount of maturity if you ask me. I think he's a fabulous lover, boyfriend, and best friend. He can be humble too. Yeah, I overheard him tell his dad that he wonders if he, Mickey, is good enough for me. Ha! That's a good one. I'm working overtime hoping he'll think I'm good enough for him. Good enough that he doesn't look around at the thousands of guys about his age he'll be going to college with, looking for a gay guy who he, Mickey, may like more than me. I don't think he'll do that, but I'm not taking him for granted either. I have a history of being dumped by boys I've had sex with.

So, anyway, here I am at the curb and I don't need to wait long before I see my car coming towards me. Huh, this is the first time I've seen my car approaching and, hot damn, it's a cooler-looking car than I gave it credit for. I'm glad dad helped me decide on this car.

Mickey drives up to me, his driver-side window down. He's wearing his round sunglasses and he's even cooler looking than the car. We're both smiling as I get in and lean over to kiss him. Huh? Oh, no! What the fuck am I doing? I'm immediately thinking, holy shit, what if mom or dad was looking out the window and saw us kiss?

Mickey says, "Hi, boyfriend, why don't you have your sunglasses on?" Ignoring that, I go, "Omigod, Mickey, why'd we kiss? My parents could have been looking out the window." He shakes his head, mumbling, "No hello for me? And it was YOU who leaned over and kissed me, so why the whining that someone might have seen us?" I'm fidgety, not hearing him as I'm looking at my house, muttering, "I don't see anyone at the windows."

Then, sounding disgusted, he says. "Burke, really? You're afraid someone will see you kiss me? You need to tell them you're gay! Christ, it's so obvious!" I frown, muttering, "Why are you so angry?" He pats my arm, mumbling, "I'm not angry," and I say, "Look, you don't know my family, Mickey. Um, maybe mom and dad could suck it up and accept me being gay, but my uncles, aunts, and grandparents... oh, shit, forget about it with them."

With a shake of his head, he drives us away from the house, saying, "Screw all of them, Burke. You're a big boy now and they're gonna find out sooner or later anyway." Settling down, I mutter, "Yeah, well, I vote for them finding out later, much later." Mickey hands me his sunglasses, "Put these on! You're supposed to be wearing sunglasses after the surgery." Taking the glasses, I mutter, "Oh, yeah, Um, thanks."

Mickey drives for a minute and then sarcastically says, "It's just occurred to me that you expect me and my dad, as the only two people on earth who know you're gay, to be complicit in your, um, deceit with your parents. Dad and I are supposed to pretend you're not gay." I go, "Whaddaya talking about?" He says, "There will be occasions when both our parents are together. Rarely, but when we're living in the apartment they are going to run into each other." I whine, "Well, I can't tell my parents. We won't let our parents meet... we can finagle around that somehow."

He mutters, "No, we can't finagle shit! I don't do finagling. It's simple, Matt, you need to tell them. I'll be with you. I'll help you tell them. And, yes, I know I wasn't a help at your dad's birthday cookout, but I will help you with this." Emphatically shaking my head, I'm like, "No! I'm not doing it. Don't help me with that."

Silence for a minute and then Mickey, says, "Listen, I'll break the ice telling them there's something important you want to tell them, um, something I already told my dad. They'll know what I'm referring too, obviously, and then you simply say... "I'm gay and I should have told you sooner. Something like that." Shaking my head again, I go, "Uh uh, no way, I'm not doing that, and stop talking about it! You're smart, you'll figure a way we can work around my parents meeting your dad. Or, hey, why don't I let my parents eventually assume I'm gay without actually saying the words, the way you said your dad assumed you were gay without you confirming it."

Mickey is acting extremely frustrated, and I don't know why he's picked this time to get all hot and bothered about me not telling my parents. He's ruining my perfect day! He knows how I feel about that 'cause I've told him all summer I'm not doing it. Stopped at a red light on Baltimore Pike, Mickey says, "Burke, listen to me. I wasn't involved with anyone when I let dad assume I'm gay. And I certainly wasn't planning on sharing an apartment with another guy. Mine was a completely different situation than yours."

We start moving again as I shrug, murmuring, "Yeah, well, we're different, Mickey." He says, "I'm asking you to 'man-up' and 'come out'. You owe it to them, and to me too." I say, "Absolutely not, and stop nagging me." He gets a scary pissed-off 'look' on his face, and almost snarls, "Yes, you will tell them! And you're doing it today, right now as a matter of fact," and the tires squeal as he drives into a random driveway and turns the car around. I go, "No, Mickey! Don't turn around." He says, "Goddammit, I'll tell them myself if you won't." I grab his arm, saying, "I'm asking you, please don't make me do this. Not now, um, I'll tell them, I promise I'll tell them, but not right now, please!"

I know when Mickey makes up his mind that something is the right thing to do, he'll do it no matter what, which is why I look pleadingly at him, repeating myself, "I promise I'll tell them. Not today though." He goes, "When?" I shrug, muttering, "Soon," and he says, "No, if not today, then tomorrow. Those are your two choices. I'm serious, I'll tell them if you don't."

Omigod! I ask, "Why are you doing this to me? I was in such a good mood and you're ruining it!" He goes, "Fuck that! What's it going to be? Today or tomorrow?" I mumble, "Tomorrow," and he goes, "Your word of honor?" Nodding, I mutter, "Yes, for Christ's sake, I promise, but why are you making me do this Mickey?" He says, "Because I love you, and because you need to grow up, and because this is the right thing to do. And, mostly, because I don't want to help you live a lie any longer. No, even more importantly, Matt, there isn't any shame in being gay. If your parents think there is, that's on them."

My heart is going to beat right out of my chest as I say, "Okay, you're right. Let's do it now." We're almost back to the house anyway. Mickey asks, "Will your folks still be home?" I can't catch my breath so Mickey looks at me, adding, "Are they at home? They go to those cookouts every Sunday. Do we need to go there?" What? God forbid! That thought scares the shit out of me. I'm so nervous I'm stuttering, saying, "Uh, um huh, oh no, don't go there! Um, no, it's too early for the cookout. My parents will still be at the breakfast table." Mickey parks at the curb in front of my house, mumbling, "That's a perfect place to tell them."

I'm having what must be an out of body experience 'cause I don't know where I am or what I'm doing. Mickey pats my back, murmuring, "Let's go, get moving, Burke, I'm right here with you." We get out of the car and I stand here thinking I'm having a heart attack. Mickey takes my hand and then, somehow we're in the kitchen now, standing here holding hands, Mickey and I.

Mom and dad both look up at us with questioning-expressions on their faces. Mickey smiles his cute smile, saying, "Good morning," and dad says, "Well, good morning, Michael. It is 'Michael', right?" Mickey goes, "Yes, but I'm called 'MIckey' most of the time. Like the mouse." My mom goes, 'Oh, no, don't say that, dear. Mickey is a nice nickname." Then to me, mom asks, "Did you forget something, Matthew? Or..."

Mickey smiles at me and squeezes my hand as we stand just inside the entrance to the kitchen. Naturally, mom and dad are both staring at Mickey's hand holding mine. I go, "Oh, um, yes I forgot something." I look at Mickey and he grins, raising his eyebrows and nodding at the table, so I look back at my parents, and add, "I forgot to tell you I'm gay. Mickey here, he's, um, he's my boyfriend, and he has been all summer. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but, anyway, I met Michael, um, or, as he just said, um, I call him, um, 'MIckey', and we're gay, I guess."

Deafening silence for a few seconds as mom and dad exchange glances before looking back at me. I shrug, and Mickey says, "Yeah, I told my dad a few weeks ago. Mattie has been wanting to tell you and a few minutes ago he insisted we do it today. I asked him if I could be here, so..."

I start to protest but stop when dad raises his hand and says, "That must have been hard to say, Matt. And, it's not something parents especially want to hear. Um, hard to hear because it means our son will have a harder time of it in life, which isn't fair. But, if you think your mom or me will love you any less because you're gay, don't think that. It isn't true." He stands up then and hugs me as Mickey lets go of my hand and takes a step back, smiling.

I murmur, "Thanks, Dad," and, of course, I have tears running down my face, but I'm not actually crying... God forbid. Mom gets up and comes over to join the hug, mumbling, "My poor son." Not exactly a great thing to say, but I think she meant it as a nicer sentiment than the words she chose. Mickey goes, "Oh, what the hell," and he hugs all three of us, which makes us all sort of chuckle as we break apart. Mom asks, "Have you told your brother?" I mumble, "Not yet, I wanted to tell you first. I'll call Roger today." Mom and dad nod at that, and then we're all quiet for a second.

I'm desperately trying to think what I can say to break the awkward silence when Mom asks, "Would you boys like a cup of coffee?" I go, "Um, no, I don't think.." and Mickey says, "I'd love a coffee. Thank you, Mrs. Burke." He nods his head for me to sit down, and when I tentatively sit at my place, he sits at the open place, saying, "Mattie told me you'd both be supportive. My dad was too. Still, us gay guys get wicked nervous telling our parents, ya know, that we're, um, gay." Dad asks, "And your mom was okay with it too?" Mickie says, "Mom died when I was two-years-old, but she would have been supportive, I'm sure." Dad and mom say at the same time, "Oh, I'm sorry."

That quieted everyone again until a few seconds later, mom says, "Oh, I'll get you, your coffees," and busies herself pouring coffee for Mickey and me. Taking a deep breath, dad goes, "So, Matt, did you pick this time to tell us because of Brian?" I ask, "Brian? Do you mean Uncle Shaun's Brian? What about him?" Mom says, "You didn't know?" Shaking my head, I go, "No, what happened to him?"

My parents look at each other and then dad says, "He's gay too. He told his parents two weeks ago." Mom says, "And he's only seventeen. He has a boyfriend, although whoever he is, he wasn't brave like Michael. He wasn't with Brian." I mutter, "Bengy, that's Brian's friend, um, boyfriend, I guess. Seventeen isn't too young to know you've got gay leanings though, um, I don't think it is anyway." Mom and dad look doubtful about that but don't say anything.

Mickey drinks some coffee and says, "I knew or thought I knew I was gay when I was in like middle school, but I wasn't sure, not until I became strongly attracted to Mattie... then I knew." I go, "Mickey's my first boyfriend, although I sort of knew I was gay before I met him. No, not 'sort of'... I've known I was gay since I was twelve years old."

Mom says, "Oh my, you poor boy carrying that secret with you, um..." and then she goes, "You'll probably hate this question, but are you both sure? I know Matthew hasn't tried dating girls, so maybe..." Mickey looks at me, then at my mom, and then says, "We're sure, Mrs. Burke." Dad clears his throat because the way Mickey said that implied we're having gay sex and dad doesn't want to get into that. Neither do I.

As we drink coffee, MIckey tells my parents what courses he's taking at Drexel and that he and I will eventually be taking some courses together, which lights up the eyes of both my parents. Mom goes, "Oh, that's wonderful, Matthew. I knew you'd decide college was the right thing for a smart boy like you." I say, "I'm gonna keep working for now, although I'm pretty sure I'm gonna go to Drexel full-time, maybe in a year or... um." MIckey goes, "Well, I'm thinking we'll get Mattie started at Drexel this coming January; not next fall." I look at him like, 'what the fuck?' and then say, "Oh, um, I'd need to get a college loan the way Roger did, or... That is, um, I mean, if you'll cosign." Dad goes, "Of course, we will!"

I had no 'effing idea I was gonna say that shit about college, but this is going so well I want to keep the ball rolling with positivity. And, now with college in the picture for me, mom and dad will figure Mickey's a good influence on me, and he is too.

Finally, finished our coffees, I'm thinking enough is enough, so I stand, and say, "Mom and Dad, thank you both for being understanding. I love you, and this is a big weight off my mind. You're both wonderful." Mickey's up too, saying, "I hope you'll come to see our college apartment when we have it set up and everything." Mom and dad say, "Sure," and mom adds, "Thanks for inviting us." Mickey was clever to add 'college' to 'our apartment'. He's smart like that.

Mom and dad walk us to the front door where mom gives me a kiss on the cheek and dad pats my back. Mickey says, "Burke, don't forget your sunglasses. The Lysik, ya know." I go, "Oh, yeah," and give him back his sunglasses, then go to my room for the sunglasses I bought yesterday." Walking back, I hear Mickey saying, "Thank you for the coffee. What brand was that? I really liked it." Mom tells him and he nods his head, muttering, "I'm gonna buy that next time," and then to me, he asks, "Ready to go?" I nod and we walk to the car as he mumbles, "I'm driving." In a daze, I mumble, "I know," and get in the passenger seat feeling strange.

I've been in a trance since walking into the kitchen. Everything that happened since getting out of the car seems surreal to me now. I can hardly believe what happened just happened. And, it all happened in like ten or twelve minutes, but felt like a lifetime... in a good way. And, I had no idea my parents were so, um, so nice.

Mickey and I are quiet as he drives us away. He pats my shoulder and I finally ask, "Where are we going?" He mumbles, "I don't know, but right now you're still in shock so I'm just driving aimlessly around." I nod, and mutter, "Okay." I guess I am in shock, but, for God's sake, that couldn't possibly have gone any better, so I don't know why I should still be in la-la land? It happened so fucking fast!

And then, just like that, a great flood of emotion overwhelms me and now I start silently weeping for real, and I can't stop. I feel terrible for my parents. hope they aren't too embarrassed about having a gay son. They were so nice and I, um, oh fuck, I feel bad for them. Mickey looks at me and then pulls into an Acme parking lot. With the car in 'park', he unhooks his seatbelt and hugs me without saying anything. I grab hold of him and squeeze, continuing my silent crying jag, my tears wetting Mickey's shoulder. What the fuck, ya know?

I'm looking out the driver's side window, looking at nothing, when as quickly as my crying started, it stops. I sniffle, then say, "What the fuck was that?" Mickey lets go of me, gives my shoulder a pat, and murmurs, "Nothing. It was nothing, you're good, Burke." I'm wiping my nose with my arm, mumbling, "Christs, I was crying like a little girl. Jesus, I'm glad that's over." Fastening his seat belt, Mickey asks, "Glad the crying is over, or glad the 'telling' is over?" I mutter, "Both," and then, "Can we go to the Lake? Lake Lenape?" Mickey says, "If that's where you wanna go, that's where we'll go. We need to get gas first." Details...

He gets gas at a PB station, pays for it, and off we go without talking. The silence, not unusual for us, gives me time to rehash in my mind what happened at the breakfast table. Thinking about that makes me appreciate that Mickey was right again by forcing me to do 'out' myself, and I appreciate how much he helped me through it too. Mostly though, I appreciate how loving mom and dad were. None of these realizations would have happened without Mickey forcing me to do the right thing. So unexpected thought! Coming 'out' this morning was the furthest thing from my mind when I woke up today.

As the realization of all that resonates in my brain, I look over at Mickey, and my feelings get all mixed up between gratitude, love, and appreciation of him. Mostly, gratitude for my parents' understanding, and it all swells up in me until my heart could burst and I'm almost crying again. It couldn't have been a fun experience for Mickey or my parents, nevermind me. It probably sucked that Mickey needed to hold my hand through that, but he knew I was too weak to do it by myself.

Staring at his face and seeing him concentrating on his driving, so responsible and... And then Mickey interrupts my thoughts, saying, "Burke, you're making me feel self-conscious staring at me like that." Looking away, I murmur, "Sorry, but I need to thank you, Mickey. I haven't even thought to thank you." He smiles, mumbling, "You're welcome, but you did it, not me. Do you feel good about yourself." Nodding, I mumble, "Oh, um, yes, I do. It's such an incredible feeling of relief. Ah, I wonder if you have any fucking idea how much I love you?" He goes, "Yeah, I do."

That's nice. I nod, murmuring, "Good," and another ten minutes of silence follows. I'm not staring now, just glancing at him, and, yep, Mickey's driving skills are very good. It's rare that I'm comfortable with someone else's driving. I get nervous when driving with my mom, for instance. Or, on the rare occasion, Dean drove me someplace in his mother's Mini Cooper I was always stepping on an imaginary brake on the passenger side. Dean has a bad habit of drifting up too fast to a line of cars waiting for a light, or in stop-and-go-traffic. I was always expecting we'd run into the car in front of us, plus Dean always tailgated, and that's nerve-racking. Mickey doesn't do any of those things... neither do I, for that matter.

Mickey breaks the silence, saying, "Ya know, I was just thinking, babe, your cousin, whatshisname, the gay one, paved the road for your 'coming out' announcement." I go, "You're right. His name is Brian, and his dad, my Uncle Shaun, is my favorite out of all my aunts and uncles, and grandparents too, so I know he was supportive of Brian. They said it happened two weeks ago so, by now, everyone has discussed it and gotten okay with it. Now my mom and dad have some news to tell. They'll probably brag about how well they handled it, and they deserve to brag." Mickey mumbles, "They couldn't have been nicer or more supportive." I mutter, "Yeah, they were great."

When we're at the Lenape Park entrance, Mickey pays the entrance fee, then drives us randomly around the park until he says, "This isn't the brightest idea we ever had. It's wicked crowded and, obviously, we can't do our normal hanky panky, plus we didn't think to bring bathing suits." He's taking half the blame for coming here, although it was all my bad idea. I wasn't thinking clearly.

Looking out the window, I mumble, "What should we do, Mick?" He says, "Hmm, well, I'll turn around in that opening up ahead, and drive back to the reception center. The sign said refreshments, plus beach-wear and souvenirs and whatever. We'll buy what we need to have a nice swim and cool off." I go, "Yeah, that's how we met; in the water at the reservoir." I'm staring at him, feeling a love I previously didn't know existed.

He parks in the small parking lot and gives me two twenty-dollar bills, saying, "Get me a cheap swimsuit and a towel. Do you have money?" I nod, mumbling, "Yeah, I'll buy the same for myself."

Inside, I pick out the least expensive swimsuits, which are little Speedo knock-offs. Two medium, one blue, and one red, plus two flimsy towels. The total cost for the four items was $60.00. After giving Mickey his change, he drives around back to the locker room next to the reception center where we change into swimsuits.

I flip him the red bathing suit and he goes, "Jesus! This is smaller than the jockey underwear I have on." I mumble, "I wanna see how big a bulge your cock and balls make." We change into these tiny swimsuits giggling and then, oh my, Mickey isn't hiding much in that tight bathing suit. Big bulge for such a little fellow. He looks at me and mumbles, "Maybe you should put a sock in there to help your crotch bulge." I go, "Can I believe you? I have an average size dick! How many times do I gotta tell you that?" Mickey shrugs, looking dubious. We both look silly in these tiny bathing suits. He says, "It's a good thing we shaved our pubes or half of them would be showing."

Lockers cost one dollar to rent and we rent one to put our clothes in, and then we're back in the car with Mickey driving us to the main swimming area where there's another parking lot. When we're both out of the car, our towels around our neck, I say, "Wait a second, Michael." He stops, looks at me, and I wrap my arms around him, my forehead resting on his little right shoulder. He goes, "Wha...? Hugging him tightly, I murmur, "Thank you for making me do that with my parents, and thank you for being you; you're incredible," and I get teary-eyed again. He hugs me back, quietly saying, "It was necessary, and you handled it perfectly. I'm proud of you, Mattie."

Yeah, telling parents you're gay is a monumental achievement, or maybe it was monumental just for me. It wasn't for Mickey. His dad already knew Mickey was gay. For me, it was terrifying to contemplate, so Mickey forcing me to do it, plus helping me do it, was huge. So huge I can't even articulate how huge yet, not even to myself.

Mickey continues hugging me back as I shed another tear or two, hugging him for dear life. He quietly says, "You did great, Mattie. I'm proud that you're my boyfriend, okay? Are we good now? It's behind you. You're 'out' and better for it." I don't want to let go of him and, with a sigh from him, he lets me hug him for as long as I need to, while he lightly rubs my back.

Then, three girls walk past us from the parking lot, and, giggling, the one with big braces on her teeth says, "Those swimsuits! Um, have you been wearing them since you were twelve? And, you two, you need to get a room, dudes." Mickey lets go of me and says, "Such a clever and original thing to say, especially coming from a goofy looking bitch like you." The girls are like sixteen or seventeen, and the black girl in the group says, "Hey, no gay motherfuckers allowed in the water. You give us AIDS." I go, "Are you fucking serious?" Mickey says, "Hey, bitch, there are no nig..." and I put my hand on his mouth, saying, "No, no." The black girl goes, "I dare you to say it, ya honky motherfucking cracker!" The other two girls are pulling on her arm, saying, "Come on, Wanda..."

Mickey's face is red as I say, "Stop it! Your temper is really something, ain't it?" He mutters. "If that..." and then, seeing the tears I shed while hugging him, Mickey wipes then from my cheeks with his fingers, mumbling, "Ah, baby, you really got emotional with the coming-out party, huh? And don't worry about my temper. It only lasts for a second, and I have you to rein me in, so we're a good team." I say, "You often say out loud what I'd like to say, but I don't have the balls to say it. Not the 'N' word though."

He shrugs, takes my hand and holds it, saying, "I was pissed off at those girls because I was enjoying being loved and worshipped by you, heh-heh. They interrupted that so I got a tad upset with the cunts." I'm like, "Yeah, a tad." Mickey says, "But, why is it okay for that bitch to call me a 'honky motherfucking cracker' but I can't..." I interrupt, mumbling, "Because that's just the way it is." He goes, "Oh, that..."

We're walking down the right-hand path to the lake 'cause the girls went down the other path. Mickey keeps holding of my hand as we walk, and I say, "Those bitches interrupted us, but I'll love, adore, and worship you more a little later on, Mick. Using the "N' word, though, it simply isn't cool. Especially before I've had a chance to buy a gun." He goes, "I know you're right, of course, and I feel guilty about that. Seriously, though, I never use the 'N' word. " I nod, "I know you don't, and, anyway, when did it become referred to as the 'N' word?" He shrugs, "Good question. I don't know. Before we were born, I guess," and I squeeze his hand.

Near the lake, we see an open spot that's not especially close to anyone so we drop our towels and continue walking right into the water, Mickey still holding my hand. When the water is deep enough that we need to swim, grinning, Mickey keeps holding my hand and I'm like, "You want me to drown, or what? He smirks, muttering, "Float," and we float together with me saying, "Never let go of me, MIckey." He murmurs, "I'm never going to, Mattie."

On our backs, floating, Mickey says, "It took all my willpower not to kiss you when you blurted out to your parents what you 'forgot to tell them'. Haha, you forgot to tell them you're gay. That was a priceless 'coming out' line." I say, "I didn't realize I said that out loud. I thought I was thinking it in my head. Hell, I was somewhere floating then too. Floating out there in the stratosphere so you must have been moving my mouth by some magic you have."

He grins, saying, "Christ, seriously, I wish to hell I was half as special as you think I am." Letting go of my hand, he says, "Enough floating! Cmon, I'll race you to that raft," and he starts swimming for the raft that's in the middle of the lake. I'm right behind him, thinking, 'Hot shit, I'm 'out' of the closet!' It's fantastic that hat's what my life has become since meeting Mickey, unexpected excellent surprises.

I would have beat Micket swimming to the raft if he hadn't started before me. As it is, we touch the raft almost at the same time. He puts his head close to mine, murmuring, "Ah-ha, Burke, almost at the same time, just like, ya know," and, grinning, I say, "Like our climaxes." Omigod, looking into each other's eyes the urge to kiss is wicked strong, but neither of us initiates a kiss. Instead, Micket mumbles, "The raft is too crowded," and we swim away, heading for the shore.

I'm glad we didn't kiss in front of that raft full of sunbathing people. I don't like to draw attention to myself, to us. The handholding is already as much, too much actually, of an attention-grabber. It's all I can handle 'cause it's a little too 'in your face'. Yeah, it is, but the newness of being boyfriends will wear off in time and Mickey won't do it as much. I think it's a possessive thing for him now. Yeah, plus, Mickey doesn't give a shit what people think. If somebody doesn't like it, he says that's on them, not us. And that's true, of course, so I'm okay dealing with the hand-holding in public as long as 'they', the ones who don't like it, keep their mouths shut because Mickey won't put up with shit from anyone. Yeah, I probably should buy a gun... not!

Lying on our towels after the swim, drying off, I'm thinking how it's a good thing I don't like drawing attention 'cause, otherwise, right now I'd be all over Mickey. Instead of doing that, I tell him, "It's taking all the willpower I have not to lie on top of you and kiss you and suck your dick and worship you right here." He smiles and chuckles, then says, "You're still euphoric about coming 'out'. It'll pass and you'll be mad at me about something soon enough." I go, "What? What will I be mad at you about?" He shrugs, "I don't know, but it'll be something I'm sure. In the meantime though, please go on and tell me how fabulous I am."

I turn over, muttering, "No, now I'm rethinking everything. What if my parents threw a ram about me coming 'out'? It could have been terrible, and you'd be to blame." He says, "I know you're kidding about that. Do you know how I know that?" I frown, "No, how?" and he goes, "Because if you're serious, that would be childish-thinking, and you're not childish, right?" I go, "Perish the thought..."

We only stay for that one swim, leaving as soon as we're dry. We've come to our senses, or I finally have and it's like this... my parents are at the cookout and my bedroom is calling to Mickey and me. We get our clothes from the locker, put on shirts, and drive away wearing the tiny swimsuits. As Mickey drives us back to my house, he says, "I like being the driver, Burke. I like your car too, and, well, I think I should be the driver from now on. Whaddaya think about that?" I look at him, and say, "I know why you wanna be our driver. It's because you're 'the guy' and you think the guy should drive. Right?" He shrugs, giving me a smirk, mumbling, "Well, yeah, don't you?" I snicker before saying, "Not really, but okay, you'll be our driver. Yeah, but, um, then I won't have a car if..." He butts in, muttering, "Good, that's settled."

My dick feels good, haha. Secretly, even though I was gonna say 'now I'm without a car again', the truth is I like that Mickey feels he should be the guy driving. I don't know, he's my man, ya know? We exchange glances with Mickey saying, "I like that you were decisive, babe." I go, "Huh?" and we smirk at one another 'cause we're pleased with ourselves. I ask, "Decisive about what?" He goes, Insisting I be our driver, what else?" I go, "Oh." Big deal, we'll be living together in less than two weeks.

In my driveway, Mickey says, "Grab our clothes in the back seat, Burke. Um, which one of these keys is the front door key?" I point at it, and then get our clothes from the back seat and hurry to catch up to Mickey who's unlocking the front door.

Inside, he says, "We should probably get something to drink before we hop into bed." I nod, grinning and saying, "Sure, and that was nice driving, driver," and I'm leaning over to kiss him on the mouth... and that's all it takes for us to get into a wild make out. So wild the two of us are stumbling from the living room to the kitchen. Three minutes later our mouths slip apart, he turns me around, pulls my tiny swimsuit below my buttocks, and pushes my belly against the edge of the kitchen table. Mickey's leaning against my buttocks breathing hard, his hard cock pointing up between us dripping with pre-cum. As I've said before, Mickey is as horny as I am, or probably hornier although when one reaches a certain horniness level it hardly matters who is hornier than who.

He gets my head between his hands, turning it until he can kiss my mouth, and then he licks all around it hungrily. I whimper with desire for him, my eyelids flickering. Now he's pushing my head forward until I'm leaning over the table. He spanks my ass... four, five, six hard smacks on my ass! In my head, I see his handprint white on my pinkish butt cheek, the handprint fading, but not all the way before another smack from Mickey, and a new handprint. Ya know what? It feels sexy-hot.

It's a short, hard, sexy spanking with Mickey grunting at each smack as I go, "Ow," with each one. Out of breath, he mutters, "That was your good-boy spanking that I'm hoping maybe will take your mind off this," and he thrust his cock inside my lube-less ass, "OW!" Only the head managing to squeeze tightly past my sphincter muscle as Mickey goes, "Umpt!" I make a face at the pain that flares brightly, but I don't care... hurt doesn't register much when it comes compliments of Mickey's cock.

With both arms around me, Mickey pushes his hard-as-stone cock steadily all the way up my ass until his groin is tightly against my buttocks, and then he humps, humps, humps against me moaning, "Oooh, mmm, ooh fuck, this feels good..." He pulls his boner back and pushes it right back up my ass as I go, "Ahhh!" His cock has never felt this long or this fat or this sexily awesome before. The combination of pain and pleasure has me delirious with a strange kind of pleasure as I moan, "Ummm, Mickey, yeah, fuck my ass..."

And he obliges with a fast, hard, two-minute fuck, "slap, slap, slap!" Then, much too soon, with both of us making a strange, "Ah, ahh, ahhh!" sound, we climax together. Mickey fills my rectum with cum as I'm shooting my cum across the kitchen table. It was a fast burst of cum. One fraction of a second it wasn't there and a fraction of a second later, like a mirage, it is there. Like magic, a long strip of shimmering three-foot-long creamy white cum across the tabletop. Both of us are shaking now, then shuddering, Mickey's arms still around me, his cock still in my ass.

I'm gasping in a big lungful of air and then exhaling noisily, and then I do it again. My rasping breaths are the only sound until Mickey begins fucking me again, moaning, "Ahh! Ummm, yeah..." his boner sliding easily now in his cum, and again it's "Slap, slap, slap," sounds of his body smacking into my ass, me bumping into the edge of the table as sensations of pure pleasure continue soaring from my ass spreading to the roots of my hair down to my feet, making my toes curl tightly while I moan, writhing in a pleasure that's too intense to be believed.

This gay sex act of two 'outed' gay boys fucking goes on for quite a luscious amount of time, our nuts ferociously generating more spunk to shoot off when the time is just right. My eyes close so I can concentrate more fully on my sense of 'feel' 'cause nothing ever felt this good before. It just gets better and better for Mickey and me. He's doing full six-inch thrusting now, using as much of his rock-boner as he dares without chancing to pull it all the way out, ruining his rhythm, his perfect thrusting rhythm.

This seems so primitively 'real', this fucking without a condom or any artificial lubricant. It's only Mickey's juices like the cavemen did it. My man, Mickie, the caveman. Yeah, he knows how to fuck his pussy cave-boy just right. I'm grunting, "Um, um, um," with every hard thrust of Mickey's rock-hard boner, my grunting joining with the 'slapping' sounds of our bodies smacking together and Mickey's heavy breathing. Enticing sounds of boys fucking, both completely oblivious that the planet they're fucking on is orbiting the sun at 67,000 miles per hour.

My second climax feels like a flash-flood of cum forcing its way up from my balls and out my iron boner, but when I open my eyes I see only a small pool of glop. What the fuc...? and then Mickey blows his load as he goes, "Ahgggg," and falls forward against my back. I close my eyes again and let the after-effects of climax sweep over me. Then, shuddering, I sigh and reach back to pull Mickie's ass forward against me 'cause his cock feels so good inside me.

Mickie's breathing hard, and why wouldn't he? He did all the work, and that thought makes me smile and ask, "Are you finally done?" He snickers and goes, "Holy shit, yeah, I'm done. For now," and he steps back pulling his awesome penis out of my rectum. I'm wide open back there, so I don't move on the off chance he's still magical enough to fill me up again. Dreamer!

But, seriously, that was fantastic! Turning around, my back against the table now, I see Mickey's hair hanging almost in his eyes, sticking to the sweat on his forehead. Brushing his hair over with my fingers, I say, "Well, ain't you something! I gotta say, you did your 'guy part' pretty fucking good." He's chuckling, mumbling, "Jeez, thanks. That was a bare-dick fuck that turned out pretty friggin' hot. Did it hurt much?" Shrugging, I mutter, "Nah, your cock and my ass fit so well together the pain wasn't any more than, say, a root canal without Novocaine." He goes, "Oh, good. Only hurt that bad, huh?"

He walks over to the sink and pulls three paper towels from the roll there, passes me two towels, and uses the other to wipe his penis. I'm holding the paper towels against my asshole, mumbling, "Mick, did your dick grow? It seemed longer and fatter." He goes, "No shit? I was thinking it felt bigger too! Baby, I was super aroused! I swear to God, you make me think I'm Superman." I make a face, mutter, "Oh, yeah? Huh," and he says, "It's the way you, um, I don't know, it's the way you look at me all trusting and expecting miracles. Well, I don't want to disappoint you 'cause you don't deserve to be disappointed, so I try hard to please you."

I'm nodding 'cause I do think he's Superman. Not wanting to overdo it, I mumble, "Put your mind at ease, Michael. You've never disappointed me." Then, I do overdo it because I can't help myself, adding, "Jeez, Mick, you're my friggin' hero, you changed my life, bro. Hell, you turned my life on, Michael Miller."

Pulling his swimsuit up, he says, "Well, in that case, I'm awful glad I asked for your phone number that time... haha." I go, "Me too. Whaddaya wanna do now?" He asks, "Whaddaya think I wanna do? Let's get something to drink and then get in bed so I can show my cute pussy boy how much I appreciate him," and that's what we do. That and, then later, we fuck again, but with a condom this time. And, after that, we cuddle again, both of us feeling sexually satisfied, finally. A little later, we eat dinner at Ricky's Sub shop rehashing, once again, me coming 'out' to my parents.

Mickey's the driver now, and when he's driving me home, he says, "Your eyes will probably be healed enough for you to drive yourself to work tomorrow, Burke, but I'll be picking you up in the morning, driving you to work and picking you up after work from now on, or at least until we're in the apartment. We'll see what our schedules are then." I go, "No, it's not really necessary to drive me to and from work tomorrow, Mickey. The doctor guaranteed me my eyes would be perfect by today. Hell, I'm seeing perfectly now."

At the curb outside my house, he says, "Do it my way, please." I mutter, "Seriously?" He says, "Yes, seriously. Give me a kiss goodnight, and I'll be over to get you at six-thirty tomorrow morning." I'm hesitating, so he says, "Do what I said. C'mon, I wanna get home and get to bed."

Oooh, that made my dick quiver, that 'Do what I said', so I lean over and kiss his lips, murmuring "Goodnight, Mickie. See you in the morning." He smiles, saying, "Just so you know, I can't put words together that would tell you how much I love and appreciate you. I don't know how to do that." I grin, mumbling, "I know," and, looking into his eyes, I murmur, "Ya know, Bossy, I can hardly wait until we're finally sleeping together for real."

I get out of the car and watch him wave as he drives away. Is it even in the realm of possibility that my life could get even better than this? Hard to imagine, but it will get even better when Mickey and I move into our apartment. Then, in bed, I make a point of not taking for granted how special Mickey's and my relationship is, nor how perfect my parents were about me 'coming out'. I fall asleep easily because there's nothing to trouble my mind about, nothing to worry about, only sweet thoughts and excited anticipation of things to come. I'm pretty sure not too many of my fellow humans can say the same.

And then, another new fun thing Monday morning standing here at the curb in front of my house waiting for Mickey to pick me up. Two new fun experiences this morning. Waiting for Mickey, and seeing perfectly without glasses. That last thing, my friends, is a weird reality after wearing eyeglasses since I was six-years-old. Normally, Monday mornings blow because the entire work-week of my boring job is ahead of me. Being picked up this Monday morning by Mickey, though, changes my outlook. It kick-starts my week in a most wonderful way.

Mickey's dressed for working at his dad's law office. He's wearing pressed khakis, a white shirt, and a tie! Holy shit, he wears a tie to work! I've never seen him wearing a tie before. He shaved too, and his hair is neatly combed and he has on those ultra-cool little round sunglasses. My boyfriend has turned into a hottie.

I scramble to get in the passenger seat, immediately leaning over to kiss Mickey, 'good morning'. Our lips make a smacking sound when they part, and then Mickey smiles, saying, "Don't think I'm a dork, Burke, but I was super excited about picking you up for work. I love the thought of picking you up and seeing you first thing in the morning. Plus, wow, the way you smiled at me as you lean over to kiss me. I love all that! The only thing that will be better is when we're going to college classes together."

I'm like, "Yep, I think so too." And, me being 'out', for the first time in my life I didn't worry about someone seeing me kiss Mickey. To prove it I lean over and kiss him again, and tell him, "It's so cool you're driving now." We're still idling at the curb, unused to this situation. Mickey says, "Me too, Burke, you look yummy-good in the morning. Not that that surprises me one bit."

Fastening my seat belt, I mumble, "Jesus, we're two out-of-the-closet- gay boys in a good mood this morning, ain't we?" He drives us away, saying, "Yep, I'm quite pleased with the two of us, and who would ever have thought Mickey Miller would have a boyfriend/lover as cute as you?" I mutter, "I don't know... probably no one," and off we go, both of us chuckling at that ball-busting comment of mine.

It's only a ten-minute drive while Mickey and I talked about the most significant thing that's happened to us, maybe since Mickey asked for my phone number... me 'coming out' to my parents. Mickey tries making me the star of that episode, but I tell him, "You know as well as I do, Mickey, that if not for you I'd never have done that." He says, "Be that as it may, it was still, in the end, YOU who did it."

Our mutual admiration society has been in high gear this past weekend, and it's still red hot today. Idling at the side door of the UPS building, at the employees' entrance, I mumble, "Thanks, Mickey." I undo my seat belt and lean over to kiss him goodbye. He goes, "I'll see you tonight, babe," I grin at him, murmuring, "Babe," and I grin at him again, saying, "I like you calling me 'babe' and 'baby'." As I get out of the car, he goes, "Oh, yeah, um, good, but I don't even realize I'm calling you that... weird, huh?."

People on the morning shift are getting out of cars or going in the door but I never hesitated kissing Mickey goodbye because I'm gay and I'm out and go fuck yourself if you don't like it. That's the confidence my boyfriend gives me and it feels good.

As I'm 'clocking-in' no one says a word to me about me kissing a guy in the parking lot, and I know some of these people saw me do it. Then, that thought is replaced by, 'holy shit' when I see Bobby. He did it! He got the same haircut I have. We both have big grins on his faces as I go, "Bobby! Dude!" We slap hands and then do a 'guy' hug and I say, "You look so cool with that haircut, Bobby!" The bell sounds and we hustle to get on the line working across from one another. Bobby tells me about his experience at the Secane Station Barbershop. He's all excited about it, and, while I miss looking at his golden shining curls, he does look hot! It looks more like a guy too. He's too pretty to have curls AND that pretty face.

Christ, I find myself smiling a lot all day, which is weird 'cause it's a tedious job and not much fun at all. Thinking about Mickey though, and commiserating with Bobby about me coming 'out', plus talking about his new haircut, then switching lunches with him, and, well, I have a nice time at work today. This is the first time I really enjoyed myself on the job, um, other than on Fridays when I check my bank account and see the balance grow.

To top off this nice day, Mickey is picking me up. When I walk outside into a sunny too-hot August day I hear a car horn 'toot' and there's Mickey waiting for me. Jogging over to the car I notice he's changed clothes, but he still looks cool. I get in the car, and as I'm leaning over to kiss him I realize something; it used to be Mickey who was the one leaning over to me for a kiss, and now it's me leaning over to him.

Huh, that's the way it should be I guess, but I don't remember when it was we switched positions. I mean, Mickey is numero uno, he's 'the guy', doing all the 'boyfriend' stuff and I'm second in our two-guy hierarchy, and as Micky's pussy boy, I'm responsible for doing the 'girlfriend' part during sex, so, I guess the kissing 'hello' and 'goodbye' is an extension of our sexy-life together and since I'm doing 'the girl' part...

Plus, fuck it, I'm on a mission to please him as much as he's trying to please me. And, yes, that is exactly the way I 'see' our relationship, our love affair. Not that I've ever described it as me doing 'the girl' part to MIckey. He would object to that characterization although, subconsciously, I believe that's exactly how he sees it too. Neither of us would want it any other way. That's how we want it, although it probably wouldn't work for most and so what, it only needs to work for us.

And, yes, of course, I'm still very curious about 'topping', but not because it's 'the guy's' role, as Mickey claims. I'm curious strictly on a sexual level to see how my boner feels fucking a guy's tight ass. I couldn't care less about the alpha male role or any of that. And, somewhere in my brain, I acknowledge that my exuberance about Mickey's and my relationship has a lot to do with my youth, with the newness of it all, especially compared to my prior life. The more I overdo my willingness to be subordinate to Mickey's 'guy' role, the more he tends to overdo his part, and I suppose it's unrealistic to think I'll always be totally okay playing the subordinate role but, for now, it's fun being young and dumb and enjoying everything we do.

Getting out of the car at my house, Mickey tells me, "I had the car, so after work, I drove to the storage unit where dad's furniture is stored and, Burke, there's some really great furniture there. I'd forgotten how good some of it is. We'll have a cool queen-size bed, baby! Omigod, the bedroom set is way better than the one I have now, plus a cool sectional sofa and a small kitchen table and chairs, and other stuff. It's gonna be so friggin' sexy-hot fucking you against OUR kitchen table, babe! Seriously though, there's almost every-'effing-thing we'll need for our apartment, and dad's happy to shut down the storage unit so it's a win-win situation for dad, and us."

As he's telling me that, we're walking to the front door, me grinning and saying, "Awesome!" and then when we keep walking through the living room and out the kitchen door, I ask, "Why are we going to the back yard, Mick?" He smiles and holds up a joint, saying, "I bummed a joint off Carol." I'm like, "You hot shit you! Who's Carol?" He tells me she's the part-timer who works for his dad.

We lie together in the hammock sharing the joint, Mickey's arm under my neck and me kinda leaning against him, closely looking at his face. His is my favorite face on this planet. As I've said before, he's very youthful looking and when he smiles he's kinda cute. I can see a little space between each of his top bright-white teeth, and the spaces somehow, in my mind, adds to his youthful Huck Finn 'look'. I brush his hair off his forehead, saying, "I got a question for you. Why do you want me to have short hair when your cool blond hair is, well it's too long if you ask me?"

Exhaling the marijuana smoke he held in his lungs for fifteen seconds, he says, his voice sounding funny, "Yeah, but I didn't ask you if you thought my hair is too long, heh heh. No, I already told you why babe." Oh, there's my new nickname again. He's been calling me that for the last few days. Well, it's what the 'guy' in a 'couple' call the significant 'other' if ya know what I mean.

I go, "Oh yeah, that's right you did tell me. I need to have short hair, um, because I'm ten-times cuter than you and, therefore, you want me having a less-cool haircut than you, right? Even things out slightly." He laughs out loud, then coughs twice, still laughing, and then goes, "Yes, that's it exactly." I'm like, "Yeah, but you're assuming short hair is less cool, and that's not always the case." He says, "It's the case for me, though." I'm like, "Oh." He does have better hair than me, I admit that. Ya can't beat blond hair, ya know?

As the 'joint' gets smaller we get more mellow and Mickey, speaking quietly and holding me tightly against him, tells me about receiving confirmation of his class schedule at Drexel. He's concerned he may have overreached by taking four courses his first semester, but his father influenced him and blah, blah, blah. I like it when Micket is really serious about something like he gets when talking about college. He sort of frowns and raises his eyebrows, looking intelligent. I ask, "What's your major?" He tells me in a very serious voice, "Well, I'm majoring in political science with a minor in government, but for my bachelor's degree I could have taken almost any major. Then, law school follows." Again, I mutter, "Oh," not having a clue about any of that.

After exhaling a lot of marijuana smoke, my voice sounding funny too, I ask, "What should I major in?" He says, "Let me think about that, babe. What you should start thinking about is when you're quicking your job at UPS. I think you should do that around Thanksgiving because I'll have a long holiday vacation in December and we can do stuff together, or go someplace warm for a week."

We've decided, well, Mickey has, that I'll be going to Drexel full-time the first semester in January. He signed my name on an application he filled out for me, eventually needing my help with some personal details. Dad and mom were quick to get my college loans ready to go, so I'm all set. To Mickey's suggestion that I quit UPS some time near Thanksgiving, I nod, "Okay, um, whatever you say. I'm wondering though, after your six years at college, what will you do when you have your law degree?" He looks at me, saying, "Pass the bar exam and then join my dad's firm, of course." I go, "Oh, a father and son law firm, neither of you making any money, huh?" Mickey laughs out loud again, then gets in another coughing fit. Jeez, I wasn't trying to be funny.

I flick the 'roach' in a hedge as Mickey says, "Dad and I will make a decent living. It's just that we'll focus on helping the poor too." I go, "Getting justice for the poor people, right?" Lifting his head, MIckey goes, "Justice? There is no justice, not in America's judicial system. Dad tries to manage the injustice, and that's especially true when law enforcement members are accused of unfairly treating minorities. Sometimes killing young black men; murdering them, actually." That sounds like a scary endeavor, going against the police, so I go, "Oh, yeah, that's a worthy battle," and leave it at that. Hmm, if we get married, it looks like I'll need to make all the money. Ha, I'm assuming Mickey and I will be together forever. Well, I hope we are.

I'm quiet now and so is Mickey as we enjoy being 'high' gently swinging in this hammock together. It lasts for fifteen minutes or so, and I almost fall asleep in Mickey's arms. Coming out of 'it', Mickey mumbles, "Jesus, babe, we're sweaty as hell. Let's take a shower before getting in bed naked."

Inside I'm still feeling some of the 'pot' high when we get in the shower, as well as feeling extremely amorous, so I'm lying against MIckey and kissing him under the flow of the water, that is, until he quietly says, "Could you chill out a little bit, baby, please. I know you love me, but let's get washed now." Oh man, I take that as a slap in the face, so I need to fight off a pout. I manage to do that with a forced, "Sure, okay. Sorry." I'm determined to get past the 'childish' behavior that Mickey has mentioned. He doesn't want a child as his lover.

As we silently wash, I'm thinking about the Grand Canyon of difference in the way I perceive Michael Miller now as compared to the way I perceived him three months ago. It's almost inconceivable that he's the same person. Well, he's NOT the same person, but I mean, it's almost inconceivable that the same person could change so much, improve himself in so many areas so enormously in only three months. Glancing at him washing, he looks so, I don't know, so macho, so confident, so much more of everything that's impressive to me. And, on the other hand, I feel as though I'm still pretty much the same way I was three months ago. My most noteworthy improvement is communicating with Mickey and, whoop-dee-doo for me. I'd be retarded if I didn't communicate normally by now with my lover. I wanna get better in other ways as well. And, I'm not mentioning my excuse for not improving much thus far, meaning my Aspergers.

Mickey looks up and says, "You're staring at me again, Burke." I go, "What? No, I'm not. I just glanced over." He mutters, "Please don't stare. It makes me self-conscious." Huh, maybe he just seems confident to me when, actually, he isn't feeling confident himself. Life is a mystery. I'm choosing to continue believing Mickey's feeling wicked confident about everything. I like him being my hero, my role model who I can look up to... and adore.

That image would be easier to maintain if I hadn't overheard the nonsense he said to his dad about worrying he, Mickey, isn't good enough for me. I need to block that episode from my mind because I shouldn't have even heard it. That was a private conversation and, anyway, his dad said it was complete nonsense, and then Mickey didn't say anything else, so I'm gonna believe he took his dad's word for it.

As we're drying, I ask, "How ya feeling, Mickey?" He gives me a smile, saying, "Well, I'm with you, Mattie, so how do you think I'm feeling? I'm feeling super good, motherfucker! Yep, really, really good, that's how I feel when I'm with you!" Nodding I go, "Me too." Then, as we're walking to the bedroom I tap the back of his hand with mine, and he goes, "Oh, yeah," and he holds my hand. Haha. Yeah, I probably could use some serious psychological help.

In the bedroom, Mickey says, "Get a condom, babe," and when I get one from our stash under the mattress, Mickey spreads his legs a little, I get on my knees and do the best blowjob of my life for him. When I feel pre-cum on my tongue, Mickey says, "Get ready," and he moves my head back and, just like that, his cock slides down my throat. OKAY! I did it again!

This is the first success for deep throating since the first time we tried it. Mickey moans as he's scrunching-up his face. He's gently thrusting his cock back and forth in my throat, only pushing it down two inches or so, moving his hips slightly. It doesn't take many thrusts before he blows his 'load'. It was after the fifth thrust, actually, 'cause I was counting. Mickey moaned, "Ooooh, God..." his head back and his body shuddering and his creamy cum sliding down my throat.

And, I was right at the tipping point of climaxing myself, but when he blew his 'load' he pulled his boner put and bent over moaning and then chuckling, and loudly saying, "Holy shit, that was intense! An insane climax..." I stand, "Well, what have you got to say about me doing the deep throating again?" He straightens up, rubbing my head, mumbling, "You're an awesome boyfriend, Burke. Awesome! Let's get in bed now, babe."

Still holding the condom packet, I cuddle against him as he sighs, murmuring, "Life with you, Mattie, is perfection." Hearing that is almost as good as climaxing, although my balls do kinda hurt being so filled up with jism and all. Mickey feels like talking and he tells me how nervous he is about starting college, and about the pressure, mostly the pressure he feels from trying to make his dad proud. And, as if it surprises him, he tells me he's been sensing more affection from his dad. Mickey thinks it started when he and I started dating. Well, Christ, doesn't he realize, I mean, it's obvious to me that his dad has noticed all the improvements in Mickey's approach to life. I don't say that to Mickey though because it might seem as though I'm giving myself credit for Mickey's change of life.

Around four-forty-five Mickey uses the condom I've been holding in my hand since getting it from under the mattress an hour ago. He fucks me with me on my back and my legs pulled back. We're kissing when we climax together eight or nine minutes later. Sweet and sexy beyond what words can describe.

Sex, laughter, love, and being naked together... holy shit!

To be continued... Conclusion... Chapter 21 "How Many Miracles Can One Person Have? Is That Even Legal?" donnymumford@outlook.com

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