Date: Sun, 01 Jun 2003 14:34:21 -0400
From: Noni Y. Mouse <nonimouse440@hotmail.com>
Subject: Kiss of Life: Chapter One

Thanks for reading the story. It's my first attempt and I'm not entirely
sure where the story will go, or how the format will change. All too many
times, Love is presented as something slightly tainted, or slightly
complicated. This story is going to complicate Love, so bear with me, and
we'll see where it goes together. Please feel free to send me some feedback
NoniMouse440@hotmail.com , and let me know what you think of how it's going.
This work is MY creative property, so no one had better copy it. Go get your
own! If you're not allowed to view this kind of material in your state, I
think that you should try to change the legislation. Thanks much-
                                       NM


Kiss of Life: Chapter One

	He sat in the dimness of the movie theater actively trying to tune out the
couple in the back row as they engaged in some heavy petting. Their smacking
and slurping and soft groans became louder and louder, all the while Mike
tried to keep his eyes focused on the screen, his ears tuned in to the
movie, and his temper in check. It was bad enough that they were the only
people in the theater, and it was even worse that he was there alone; but to
be assaulted by retro-hetero-romance took the cake. NO ONE went to a movie
theater to make out anymore... or at least so he thought. It didn't matter
anyway. Mike sighed. None of it seemed to matter, and with that, his anger
deflated. He shrank down into his seat and pulled his jacket up over the
back of his head. He'd ignore it- live and let live, he muttered to himself.
Tears stung the corners of his eyes- he wanted to get up, to whip around on
them with fury and scream at the top of his lungs "IT'S NOT FAIR!" But that
would be very unbecoming.
	He heard the guy grunt, and then begin to pant- soft, pleading sounds
uttered from the back of his throat. Mike could picture it in his mind: the
boyfriend urging his girl to jerk a little faster, grip it a little harder,
flick her tongue in his ear a little more. The boyfriend, grasping the arms
of the chair, head thrown back in ecstasy, imagining himself pounding into
his woman over and over again as the feelings shot from his cock up thru his
spine and back down again. The boyfriend's hips, bucking up and down, and
his balls contracted with his constricted sack, and finally, sweet, sweet
tingling, wet, sticky release.
	Mike shook his head, realizing that his own cock was rock hard and
throbbing uncomfortably in his jeans. He moved a hand down to trace the
outline of his turgid prick- caressing it lightly, and shivering as the
sensations raced up its 7" long length, and down through his balls into his
toes. And for a second, he almost forgot. For one minute, he as blissfully
entranced by the almost-tickle of his cock surging pre-cum into his already
soaking briefs. And then he heard the girlfriend gasp and groan with her own
orgasm, and that brought him back to reality.
	He sat up, took off his coat, and got up, placing it carefully in front of
his crotch. He didn't look at either the guy or the girl on his way out, but
he clearly heard their conversation.
	"Did you see him jerking his dick, Tom? He was totally perv-ing on us!!"
	"Yeah baby- maybe he wants to lick my cum off your hand, eh? What do you
think? You should offer him some."
	"Tom! You're SO gross!" she cried, laughing, "Hey mister! Hey mister! Do
you have a napkin by any chance?"
	Mike kept walking, not looking back to acknowledge what he'd heard. It
already hurt- the being alone. Being ridiculed was not something he wanted
to empower these strangers with.
	Back at home in his apartment, Mike stretched his 6'1" frame, and when he
came back down, gave his 190 lbs a good shake. As he walked over to the
fridge, he threw off his shirt, and rubbed his stomach, appreciating how
flat it was. At 30, he knew a lot of guys who'd kill to have a body that
looked even nearly as good as his. But at 30, he'd kill to be almost just
about anyone else...
	Mike shook his head; better to not think about things which one cannot
change. But then the simmering rage which always lay inside him bubbled over
for a second, and he lashed out and slammed his fist into the refrigerator
door. Looking down at his bleeding knuckles, he began to sob, and sank down
to the floor, unaware of everything, even his frightened pooch, Jeff. He
Doberman stood in the doorway, head cocked to one side, ears standing
straight up, and whining softly. Jeff licked his chops, lifted one paw, and
started to walk into the kitchen, but then paused, uncertain. Mike's
shoulders shook as his sobs got stronger, and Jeff padded over to him,
finally certain. He licked the back of Mike's neck, and then sat down next
to him. When Mike reached out with an arm, and wrapped it around Jeff, the
dog began to lick the tears from his face. Mike sighed as the dog's warm
tongue washed away his tears and cooled his outburst. He'd always known the
dog was special- but it was almost uncanny the way the pooch seemed to make
him feel better.
	He sighed, and then slowly stood. He was so tired of breaking down, and
lately it seemed to be happening more and more. Mike looked at the dog, and
Jeff looked back up at Mike. He smiled down at the dog, and then reached for
the box of doggie treats on top of the fridge. Jeff's tongue exploded out of
his mouth, and he leapt up to his hind legs. He barked twice, and then when
the treat dropped to the floor, snagged it in his mouth, gave Mike one final
look, and then trotted off to the living room to consume his snack. Mike
looked at the wagging behind traipsing out of the kitchen, and chuckled to
himself. Jeff had been the best present he had ever bought for himself...
and the only thing keeping him alive at that point.
	Subdued, Mike opened the fridge and stared at the empty shelves and lone
box of baking soda that inhabited his fridge. He closed the door, and
stumbled to the phone, knowing that whatever WAS in the freezer wasn't in
danger of getting up and walking out in the middle of the night. Thank
goodness frozen food stays frozen. But if the power went out... he
shuddered, and kept walking to the phone.
	He dialed the number for the nearest pizza place, and waited for someone on
the other end to pick up.
	"Sal's Slices, this is Joe. Is this a pick up or delivery?"
	"Hi Joe. It's a delivery."
	"Mr. Dana, how are you? Your usual?" Mike stuttered.
	"Ho.. how... how did you know it was me?" Joe laughed.
	"Your number pops up on our screen here, Mr. Dana. That and I recognized
your voice." Mike blushed. So he DID call there a little often... it wasn't
exactly a crime...
	"Uhm... yeah...Joe, thanks. I'll take... my usual..." And he had a "usual?"
	"Ok Mr. Dana- should be about 30 minutes. Oh! Mr. Dana- we also have a new
driver this evening- his name is Chris. Just wanted to give you a head's up
in case you were wondering why it wasn't Sam." And now they were UPDATING
him on their personnel affairs?? Mike blushed again and realized he needed
to learn how to cook- and fast.
	"Uhm.. thanks... Joe... for the head's up. That was... very considerate...
of you..." Gosh he sounded like a dork. He had been in a few times, and
could just imagine Joe standing there, slightly sweaty, black hair cut
short, blue eyes sparkling... 6'3" frame leaning against the counter with
one hand resting on the wall, jotting down the order. Mike shook himself
back into reality, and gently thumbed his rigid boner in his jeans. "Thanks
so much Joe. I'll be here waiting." And then he hung up. Still standing
there, his left hand lightly grazing his solid cock, his right hand trailed
up to his left nipple, and he began to lightly circle it. As it grew harder,
his touch became rougher. A direct line of tickling electricity between his
cock and his nipples kept his body shuddering, and his breath coming in
gasps. He heard a bark, and shock himself. His already soaked underwear now
felt cold with rapidly cooling pre-cum. He was so close to cumming. He'd
make sure that before he went to bed, he'd have a climax that curled even
his hair.
	What in the hell was Jeff barking about?? Mike gingerly adjusted his
deflating and still sensitive crotch, and moved towards the living room. He
had just stepped thru the entryway when a large brick came hurtling in
through the glass, and slammed into his right shoulder. He groaned, and
staggered back, as Jeff began to howl, dancing about, snarling and barking
enough to call attention to the apartment. Holding his bleeding shoulder,
Mike staggered over to the broken window, not conscious of the glass
crunching under his sneakers. He looked out and saw a black car speeding
off. The shouts and whoops coming from the car bounced off the walls of the
lot and back up to his window. Mike growled, and ran to the phone, clutching
his right shoulder. He punched in 911, and waited.
	"911 what's the nature of your emergency?"
	"I've just been attacked in my home. Someone threw a brick through my
window, and it struck me. I'm bleeding, but I'm ok."
	"Sir where are you?"
	"I'm at 99 EverGlade terrace, apartment 2B. My name is Michael Dana."
	"Ok Mr. Dana we're sending out a police unit and an ambulance to your
location. Are the assailants still nearby?"
	"No. They've left in a black 1986 Chevy Camero."
	"Did you get the license plate number, Mr. Dana?"
	"Yes ma'am." Mike told her the license plate number, and then felt dizzy.
	"Ma'am... I'm not fee...ling...so...." He fainted dead away on the floor,
the phone a few inches away from his head. The pool of blood on the floor
began to spread rapidly, and Jeff continued to howl and bark away into the
night.