Date: Thu, 4 Jan 2007 11:41:16 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: For The Love Of Michael 03

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblances to real people,
alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in
nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon
persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene
involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then
you should not read this story. Additionally, if you
are under 18 years of age, in most state and
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by
law. Check with your local laws regarding such. %
Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction.
In real life, use protection.

%

"For The Love Of Michael" 03
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

That night, in his room, Dean raced through his social
studies book, searching for his mind to latch onto an
idea. He knew the subject needed to do with something
ethnic about any society of peoples, native to the
United States. Native Americans hit him, part of the
notes he had taken down from the blackboard, during
class time. For all due purposes, it was all Dean
needed to segregate and jot down.
With social studies out of the way, he could move on
to english. Eleventh grade English dealt with `The
American Dream'. From all perspectives, the only
`American Dream' Dean could think about is `Michael'!


With recollection, he lay there on his bed, thinking
about how mean Jim Hart could be with him, which took
all of thirty-five seconds. But when it came to
thoughts with Michael, he took his time recalling
thoughts of him as Michael's lithe body cut through
the small, choppy waves of the gym swimming pool, the
kind way in which he spoke, his little smile in the
lockerroom. Another big discovery occurred when, at
the end of his reverie, he found his hand wrapped
around his own dick, mildly stroking it!

Then thoughts began flooding into his thinking center.
He wondered if Michael got hard like himself. And, if
he did get hard, how big was he? Next thoughts to
enter his mind, he wondered how it would feel to get
`dicked' by Michael. He's often read about it, except
it was called getting `fucked'. He's seen pictures on
the internet of some guy get plowed by another guy's
dick. It `looked' like the guy getting dicked, likened
to the idea of getting dicked. Dean then got an idea.
His finger surely wasn't as wide as any guy's dick.
Maybe he could try a little experiment. Entering the
private jon, attached to his very own room, Dean made
sure it was locked. He took down his shorts and
briefs, letting them lie at his ankles. Bending over
he tried finding his own asshole, with his index
finger. Being a lean swimmer, it wasn't tough to keep
balance, bend in half and reach around behind himself.
First time anything's been there, except toliet
tissue, meant for another purpose, it felt `weird'. He
pressed the tip of his finger a little beyond the
opening. Right away the sixteen year old withdrew it.

`Wow'! came his only reaction.

Spreading his legs, he almost fell over. So, Dean
stepped out of both circles, composed of his shorts
and briefs. With a more widespread gap, he found he
could be more flexible, reaching into his ass crevice.


`Ouch'.

This time, pressing beyond the tip of his finger hurt.
He wondered why it just didn't slip in. Then it
occurred to him. When he peeled an orange, sometimes
his thumb slipped right on in because the juices
squished out. He needed something juicy, to grease up
his asshole. A lot of options were available;
toothpaste, quickly nixed because he knew it might
burn. Next was deoderant. It wasn't pliable enough,
but the next item would surely be a great advantage,
he thought, shampoo. Squeezing a fingerful onto the
tip of his index finger, he spread it around,
utilizing his thumb.

`Here goes', he thought.

Bent over, feeling around, his fingertip approximated
where his ass hole should be. Finding it, he depressed
his finger. It slipped right in. Once in, Dean had a
great time feeling the inside, til he touched
`something'.

`Ewwwieeeee'! he exclaimed, semi-outloud!

When he pulled his finger out, it had a light brown
stain to it. So, his adventures in his ass region came
to a close.

Back, lying down, he again drew on recollections of
Michael. This time he pictured Michael having a skinny
dick, about the size of his finger, moving it up to
his ass. Like an out-of-body experience, he watched
Michael, his voice calm, instructing him to bend over
the sink in the jon. Watching, he saw Michael tilt his
own bottle of shampoo, greasing up the thin barrel.
Suddenly, he became aware of stroking his own cock. It
became one with Michael entering his asshole, pressing
his dick in, even with the stroking pattern. His own
hips bucking, he pretended Michael bucked his hips,
sending his dick in and out of his ass. When he came,
his teen jizz shooting out, he pictured Michael's
jizz, soaking the inside of his body.

`Wow'!

Settling down, Dean noticed the front of his shirt,
dead center, middle of the chest, all sweaty, along
with his armpits. Some of the white, milky jizz was in
his navel, a coupla small puddles on his shirt.

`Wow! I shot all the way up here?'

Looking down, some white driplets lay near the bottom
of his chin.

`That sure was some `dicking'!

%

2B continued...

Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.