Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2011 09:57:12 -0800 (PST) From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com> Subject: MIKE & RICHIE Chapter 13 by Donny Mumford MIKE and RICHIE Chapter 13 by Donny Mumford I'm riding shotgun with Tony at the wheel of his brother's 1992 shit-box Chevy; we're on a road trip to Atlantic City, running an errand for Troy, Tony's brother. Mike's working at the tomato farm so this trip's mostly just a way to kill time until I hook up with him later this afternoon. Along the way I'm planning on sneaking in some questions about Tony and Tiny's possible gay activities, as well as maybe finding out what Mike and Tony were into way back when Tiny joined the gang. But Tony beats me to it by springing a question on me: "Ah, Richie, are you and Mike doing queer stuff together? Tiny thinks you are; how 'bout it, Richie?" I'm stunned, and gasp, "What?..." Tony's cool, he says, "Hey, it's okay if you are; doesn't make you a homos or anything." I mutter, "Wha...? Homo..?" He's fumbling his cigarette pack out of his side pocket, saying, "Tiny explained it to me; if no girls are available, what the fuck, screw each other... we're basically just kids experimenting with different kinds of sexy stuff, trying to understand our bodies." I'm thinking, "Jeez, I can't imagine who Tiny heard that rationalization from!" Tony continues explaining it like we're evaluating a rock group or describing a movie, "Yeah, you name it, and Tiny's probably done it to me. I kind of like it too, but I don't think I'm going to make a life-long commitment to it, if ya know what I mean?" I manage to mumble something other than "What?" I go, "Yeah, I guess," but now a new concern: Tony's driving is distracting me in a major way. He's attempting a really dumb way of lighting his cigarette and it's causing us to swerve out of our lane. Looking over at me, Tony says, "Jesus H Christ, I never had any idea that that little dick of Tiny's would find it's way up my ass, or in my mouth; it's like I'm fuckin' hypnotized by Tiny or something, but I thinks it's cool, like I already told ya." My eyes are glued to the road as our car swerves in and out of our lane. What Tony just said is way past unexpected, way past weird too, and I'm not sure how I should respond. Still trying to light his cigarette, Tony asks, "How 'bout you, Richie? You like it when Mike does that kind of stuff to you? Um, if he does that kind of stuff to you, that is." His question hangs in the air unanswered while he continues to steer the car with one hand and tries lighting a match from a pack of matches with the other, his unlit cigarette jumping in his mouth as he talks. Lighting a match with one hand isn't easy when you're sitting in your living room, never mind trying to do it while driving a car eighty miles an hour. He's glancing up at the road, then down at the match, as I'm frantically searching my brain for the right thing to say, but coming up blank because most of my attention is focused on Tony's death defying driving technique. I'm too busy looking first at the book of matches in Tony's hand, then at the road, and then back to the match, to come up with a good response to his assertion that Mike and me are doing queer things together. Tony's buzzed head bobs up and down as he tries time after time to light the match, the bright sunshine is reflecting off his red hair and off those absurd fake-gold pirate earrings. Quite the picture with the old Chevy swerving from one lane to the other at high speed; it brings to mind Tony's earlier rant about people who drive while talking on a cell phone, but that bad habit seems a safe and sane maneuver compared to this dare-devil circus act of Tony's. I've been holding my lighter out to Tony the whole time he's trying to strike the match, but he waves it off, giving me a look like, "Why would I need a match, and a lighter?". This whole scene: his question, his appearance, his rationalization, his efforts to light the cigarette, and his driving has me stuttering and stammering, clearing my throat, and nagging; like, "What the fuck, dude, look at the road. Use the friggin' lighter, Tony!" He gets the cigarette lit, but now he's begun one of his laughing fits. In between smoking, coughing, trying to catch his breath and his guffaws, he's like, "You're a fucking riot Richie! Jesus, you make me laugh. Oh fuck, avoiding my question and pretending your scared." Now I'm begging him to get his foot off the gas pedal a little but he's caught-up in one of those laughing jags in which no matter what I say he laughs all the harder, horns blaring in the background. My best bet is to tighten my seat belt, and just shut-up. Which is what I do, and it works; Tony's laughing jag slowly runs out of steam. "Fuck Richie, you almost had me peeing my pants. Holy shit that was funny." Still upset at the dangerous driving, I ask, "What'd I said that was so god-damned funny?" He chuckles and tells me its the way I was doing all that coughing and stuttering and all that other shit just to avoid answering his question. Damn, he's sharper than I gave him credit for. I wasn't doing all that stuff on purpose, but I am trying to avoid answering his question and I'm surprised he saw through it so easily. I make a face, and go, "What, you think I did all that shit on purpose? No way!" Tony's done laughing, but he won't be deterred about his question, asking again, and now I act pissed-off when I say, "You think Mike would do queer stuff? Is that it?" I'm hoping he'll accept that question as an answer to his question. He excitedly exhales a lot of smoke, his eyes big, as he screams back, "I told Tiny he was full of shit about that, I knew it wasn't true, but he told me to ask you anyway," I mumble, "What an asshole he's turning out to be," and Tony goes, "Ahh, he ain't so bad. TD's cool." We're both quiet for a few minutes as Tony flies down the Parkway in that beat-up old Chevy, and I'm thinking, "Jeez, I guess I avoided answering his question, and lied by omission, at the same time!" I begin to feel guilty because Tony's always so truthful about everything and I did just sort of lie to him. Finally I say, "Oh hell Tony, I gotta be honest with you 'cause you and me are tight, but keep this to yourself!" Tony's nodding his head like a bobblehead doll now, as I continue, "Mike and me have messed around a little bit. I kinda did to Mike what you did to Tiny. You know, suck him off a little just to see what it's all about. Also Mike has, you know... um, screwed me a few times. We're just experimenting like you guys do." Tony asks, "How'd ya know I blew Tiny?" I go, "Ah, what? Oh, well, I kinda walked in on you and saw ya doing it at the graduation party, by mistake... me walking in on you was the mistake, not you....." and I let my explanation trail off without finishing the obvious. Tony burst out laughing again, and says, "Jeez, that was a first for me, for sure, and was I ever drunk! That god damn Tiny can get me to do anything. He's really cool when ya get to know him, Richie!" We both light up another cigarette and babble on, reinforcing each other's image that both of us are just regular guys having a little teenage fun with sex, that's all... and, you know, it comes natural with us wild and crazy teenagers; we're not afraid to try stuff, to be daring. When we find ourselves repeating things we said a minute or so ago we have another awkward silence for a few miles, until Tony asks, "Ah, when you and Mike are messing around, ahh, are you kind of acting out the part of the, you know, the one who's the girl, kind of. Not really acting like a girl, but the one who has stuff done to her, or, I mean, him?" To hell with it, I'm honest, "Yeah, Mike's always the one doing the stuff to me. It's like you said about Tiny doing it to you,Tony; I kind of like it that way too, ya know?" He quickly replies, "Yeah, I guess." And then we drive in silence for fifteen minutes more, feeling weird to have talked about queer sex. We smoke heavily 'cause we're feeling uncomfortable, lighting our cigarette off the one we just finished. I crack my window, and to hell with the air conditioning, the cigarette smoke is burning my eyes. It's still awkward as hell for the two of us, but finally Tony mutters, "Gee Richie, I wish I never brought all this shit up. Tiny told me to; he's one bossy mother fucker, let me tell ya." I don't say anything to that, and Tony adds, "I kinda like that too, the bossy stuff, I mean. How about you?" I take a deep breath, then let it out slowly, saying, "Yeah, me too. You and me, we're submissive types, Tony." "Sub, what-the-fuck?" Tony squawks out, and I say, "That's what it's called; being submissive to a dominate sex partner." Tony shakes his head while activating the electric window and flicking his cigarette butt out, muttering, "I don't know about all that shit, all I wanna know is does it make us queer?" I probably should say I don't know, but I say, "Well, if we like it, it makes us at least bi-sexual, I would think." Tony's like, "WTF, Richie?" So I clarify, "You know, bi... we can go with girls or go with boys." Tony jumps right in on that, "Yeah, with girls too! That's the one I choose, that bi thing. That's me 'cause I'm no queer." We talked in a very general way about our sexual experiences then, and the more we talked the closer friends we became. It's kind of a'birds of a feather' situation at the moment, but still, I didn't admit to having that pool party with Tiny. From what I experienced with Tiny, and from what Tony tells me, I've got to believe Tiny, AKA Tucker, is extremely clever and adept at dominant/submissive dynamics. He must have experience from his prior neighborhood. As a matter of fact, Tiny told Tony he'd been initially drawn to our little group because he thought he detected something in Tony's manner that might lead to a little sexual fun and games. Tiny probably recognized the same thing in me except he quickly realized Mike was a factor where I'm concerned, so he concentrated his efforts on Tony. After another short silence, I hesitantly asked what else Tiny said about me, other that he thought Mike and me were into queer behavior? Tony shrugs, and goes, "Nothing much. He just mentioned about you and Mike probably playing around." I go, Huh," and Tony says, "Remember Tiny tried, in the early days, to hook up with Mike, but they ended up butting heads about something. I don't think anything like we're talking about happened between them." Wow! This is awesome news: Mike most likely didn't do anything with Tiny, at least that's Tony's opinion. We continued talking the rest of the way to Atlantic City, but I didn't really learn anything else; except this, there is no affection between Tiny and Tony. Not like Mike and me, the best I can say is their relationship is based on satisfying mutual needs; they both want and need what the other offers as far as sex play goes, but that's it. No kissing or hugging at all, and I'm not being judgmental, personally preferring a relationship filled with affection, hugging, kissing, and that special thing... that magical word, love. This concept I did not share with Tony. We found our way into Atlantic City and then to the Apple store located in a huge Mall. Tony picked-up the computer part his brother needed and we drove over and tried the Atlantic City boardwalk for an hour or so. It sucks compared to our Wildwood boardwalk. Almost no kids our age here, mostly older adult types. Tony said these people were all gamblers, walking off their losses. We walled past the casino my dad works at, but I knew not to bother him at work. not that we're old enough to get in a casino anyway. Tony's being very chummy with me doing a lot more bodily contact stuff than normal, like grabbing my arm or the back of my neck, that type of thing which he usually doesn't do. Sexually, I have zero interst in Tony and feel uncomfortable about his extra touching, especially now that we've both more or less admitted we're bi. I know I'm gay, not bi, but what would be the point of driving home that fact to Tony. He's obviously content, or relieved, or whatever that he now knows he's not alone in the boy-on-boy sex experimentation department. He knows Mike and me are doing the so-called experiments too, and he now knows that I'm playing the same part in my duo that he's playing in his. Neither of us referred to the word 'gay', not out loud anyway. As we begin the ride back to Wildwood, Tony grudgingly admits that Tiny gave him another order too: Tiny instructed Tony to ask me this, "Richie, do you ever think you'd like to join Tiny and me for a little messing around sometime; maybe Mike too?" I'm slow answering because I want to word it right. I tell him he's one of my top friends and that I'm simply not willing to take a chance on screwing that friendship up. Sexy games can sometimes cause jealousy and stuff like that, I tell him. Then I half confess to having messed around with two other boys, one time each, but in the future any messin' I do will be with Mike. Tony said he respects that decision and that I'm one of the best friends he's ever had and he totally agreed with what I'd just said about not fucking up a good friendship. Then, to put a stamp of approval on the decision, we do a half-ass one arm hug while flying eighty miles an hour up the Garden State Parkway. Whew! I think we're both relieved that that topic is finally put to bed. When I said I'd be doing no more messin' with anyone but Mike, I realized immediately that I really meant it; I'm going to be faithful to Mike from now on. I've played with fire and had my taste of the submissive/dominance thing; twice, as a matter of fact. Both Tiny Dick and Tom Brown recognized the submissive side of me and exploited it for their pleasure, but, to be honest, I was more of a willing accomplice than a victim... that's over though. The idea that I'd actually contemplated hooking up with Tom Brown earlier today really pisses me off; I'm pissed and disappointed in myself for being weak. I feel relief that I've made that loyalty pledge to myself where Mike is concerned; they'll be no more screwing around with the likes of Tiny or Tom Brown. And it's also strangely a relief to have finally admitted to someone besides Mike that I'm gay; well, sort of admitted it. This had been quite a road trip; some stuff got out in the open, and other stuff got clarified and is now off my mind. Still, I feel an odd nervousness... an almost natural state of mind for me. I'm not nearly as nervous as I was in the old days maybe, but I still have nervous feelings quite often, mostly worries that something will happen to screw up Mike and me. Anyway, this afternoon I learned some things I hadn't known before and I didn't need to use a sneaky trick because Tony came right out and started the conversation on an honest basis. With Tony it's always "up front" and sincere; well, with a little rationalization thrown in for good measure at times. Granted, he isn't going to be heading-up up any NASA progam to Mars any time soon, but what you see is what you get with him. And he's always interested first and foremost in accommodating his buddies. Nice friend to have, gay, straight, or bi. Later that day Mike hooked-up with five of us at our meeting spot on the Wildwood boardwalk, and right off I felt this extra closeness to him. I don't know, maybe it's because Tiny almost assured me that nothing sexy happened between Tiny and Mike, or maybe it's because Mike's been away for three weeks and just got back, or maybe I liked the way Mike, two hours after picking him up yesterday, had me completely straightened out and looking good; it's an awesome thing to have Mike take charge like that. Whatever the reason, it's taking all my will power not to run over to give him a hug and a kiss. Mike had obviously gone back to the house after work for his second shower of the day because he's looking squeaky clean, cute and hot too; it's like a physical thing for me just looking at him. Is it possible he's gotten even better looking and sexier during the three weeks in California? He gives me a hot smirk and then a smile as all six of us are off walking the boardwalk, looking for trouble... not really looking for trouble although it might look like that to some. Just to get a quick feel of Mike's body I purposely bump into him every now and then, and after doing it a couple of times he looks over at me with a knowing smirk on his face, then squeezes the back of my neck and rubs his hand up the back of my head. He has us drift back behind the guys a half a block or so, then roughly pulls my head next to his so our foreheads are touching, and without caring if strangers see us, he kisses me on the lips, and then with a smile, quietly says, "I know you're doing all that clumsy bumping into me on purpose, Richie. You are so gay, but god damn, your funny." He'd kissed me so fast a few seconds ago I wasn't able to open my lips, but now I moving my tongue between both lips to catch any of Mike that he'd left behind. I've got a raging boner in my pants as we hustle to catch up with the guys. When we do they're circling around three girls, who look to be about our age; two cute ones and one rolly/poley heavy weight with a potty mouth who's working hard at being funny, buts not quite making it. Mike and me walk away to the outside railing and lean against it sharing a cigarette. That is so sexy, sharing a smoke. He's telling me about a fight at the farm and how one guy broke his finger during the fight. Sarcastically I say, " Sweet!" Then Mike tells me how he felt sick to his stomach when he heard the guy's finger snap. "You could actually hear it break, Richie, the finger was bent out from the side of his hand at an impossible angle." Guess it wasn't so 'sweet' after all, so I had nothing to add to that. Looking out to the seemingly endless ocean, out to where the ocean and horizon meet, I get this sentimental moment. Turning to Mike, with what must have been a strange expression on my face because he puts his hand on my shoulder, and asks, "What... what is it, Richie?" I mumble, "I dunno, except, ya know... I love you more than anything in the world, Mike." My eyes get that stinging feeling as Mike's staring back at me, dragging on our cigarette; then casually blows a smoke ring in my face... he can blow the most perfect smoke-rings! I wave at the smoke, as Mike quietly says, "Me too, Richie," looked away as he said it, but he'd said it alright. Then he says, " Come on, lets get one of those fresh squeezed OJs." And off we go, my feet barely touching the boardwalk. Mike continued being really nice to me all night, never embarrassing me in front of the guys. In fact, he told Kyle to knock it off when Kyle and me got into an argument over who owes who a cigarette. Mike stuck-up for me. Kyle yells, "Fuck you guys, you're always dumping on me," and he stalks off down the boardwalk. Ever since school got out he's been having problems at home, and so he's been bringing bad vibes with him wherever he goes because of it. Initially I felt great that Mike stuck-up for me, but then when I see Kyle walking away by himself with his head down I felt bad for him. Looking over at Mike with a pained expression on my face, I'm noddeing toward the retreating Kyle. I know Mike so well, I can read him like a book. And why not, I've never studied anything as deeply as I've studied Mike Sullivan. I can tell he's pissed at himself for snapping at Kyle like he did. Mike angrily flips his cigarette butt over the boardwalk railing and hocks a lugie after it; then all us boys look at Mike to see what we should do. He takes a deep breath, looks over at us all bunched together, and mutters, "Shit! I shouldn't have yelled at him! Come on, lets catch up with Kyle." We start jogging, as he's adding, "Kyle's been having it rough at home with his parents' nasty divorce and I forgot about that for a minute. We should be there for him, showing him we give a shit about him. He's our bud! God damn it; I didn't think before I yelled at him." We're all following Mike, nodding our heads in agreement, as he jogs through the crowds. It soon turns into a laugh-a-thon as we collide with slow walkers and the ones with poor reflexes and, of course, the over-weight ones. We're all going, "Oops, sorry. My fault, sorry," and that sort of thing as we laugh at each other's clumsiness; it ain't easy running six across on the Wildwood boardwalk. We catch up with Kyle in about three minutes because he's slowly dragging his sad ass home carrying a major 'pout' with him. We circle him and jostle him and sing happy birthday, although it's not his birthday. We take turns rubbing his buzzed head and telling him he's our buddy and to stop pouting and Mike was only kidding. We all offered him lit cigarettes and he ends up with two in his mouth and one between his fingers. Right in the middle of the boardwalk we're all chanting "We're sorry, Kyle." Of course it's all done sort of sarcastically, in pretend 'baby-talk' voices, and with lots of laughing so none of us feels like a dork or a fairy, or something. The other people on the boardwalk mutter negative comments about rude teenagers monopolizing the boardwalk so normal people can hardly pass, and the angrier ones want to know where are the boardwalk patrol is when you need them, and so on and so on. Joey's yelling at some of the mutterers, "Call the police you dweebs; tell them that kids are singing happy birthday on the boardwalk... how horrible!!" Kyle was quickly laughing with us because being goofy always gets laughs, and this is a good way to get over his pouting-stalk-off without losing face. After a bit Mike's walking with his arm around Kyle's shoulders whispering to him ahead of the group, and I didn't even feel jealous. A tight little grin on Kyle's face, quickly became a big grin, and then a laugh as he realized how much us guys like him and care about him. I have this wonderful feeling in my heart that we helped make Kyle feel important and maybe he can forget his troubles at home while hanging out with us. Actually, I got the teary eyes again for a moment there from realizing how important friends are, and how much these guys mean to me. Mike and me called it a night at nine-thirty because he's beat, his day began at four o'clock this morning, and yesterday he'd been up for twenty-two straight hours coming back from California. Because of that, his second night back got me a hug and a quick kiss goodnight. I lay there in bed, with Mike's arms around me, facing away from him with my bare back up against his bare chest. He fell asleep almost immediately and in his sleep he mad low hissing sounds as he exhaled his breath against the back of my neck. Again I get the hardest boner ever and desperately want to stroke, but don't... and, oh my God do my balls ache. Finally Mike rolls away from me slightly while calling out something in his sleep and I hop out of bed and wank my cock right there, standing next to the bed. After only a dozen tight, fast strokes I arch my back and piss out a long stream of creamy spunk that lands on the sleeping bag; a thin line of spunk about a foot long. We have the sleeping bag there give the impression we sleep in separate beds. That first long shot of cum was followed by shorter versions and I'm soon panting, sweat breaking out on my forehead from the effort of spunking and containing my squeal. What a fantastic Mike-induced climax! Wow, after shooting off that load of spunk I feel good crawling back in bed, a pleasant sigh on my lips. This time I get my arms around Mike and, being careful not to wake him, pull the sleeping body of the boy I love tight against me inhaling his Mike-smell along with all the boardwalk smells that attached themselves to him tonight. I hug him to me and kiss the back of his head until I begin getting another boner; fun! Finally I fall asleep, a happy teenage boy. Mike was called to work again the next morning, but before he left he told me, without giving me a reason, that he wants me here and not up on the boardwalk when he's finished work. I nod my head that I'll be here, and then fall back to sleep. Waking up four hours later I'm wondering why Mike wants me here when he finishes work, and I'm wondering why I didn't ask him. Guess I'm used to doing what Mike wants, and maybe I like it that way. Oh well, I'll hang around the house today and do something useful. A few days ago my dad asked me to paint our little front porch, and he's promised me fifty bucks to do the job, so this is the perfect opportunity to do it. Also it's a convenient excuse if the guys call wanting me to hang with them on the boardwalk today. Heh heh, it's better than saying Mike won't let me out to play today. Then I'm thinking, if I didn't have the porch to paint I'd probably spend the morning on the boardwalk alone. What I do some mornings Mike works is hike to the boardwalk and sit on a bench with a coffee and a cigarette watching the endless stream of tourist parade by. People-watching is fun. Of course, since Mike's showed me my sexual nature I'm looking particularly for a certain type of people; the teenage male variety. Up until noon there's separate lanes on the boardwalk in each direction; one for walkers, one for bicycles, and a third for joggers. Six lanes in all, plainly marked. In the jogger lane I watch for pods of young teen boys jogging in unison. They're probably on the same sports team in either middle school or high school and now they're on vacation here with their respective families. For teenage boys hangin' with their families is no fun, so they search out and hook-up with buddies from school. The joggers go five or six boys across; synchronized jogging with each boy's legs and arms moving together. I love to watch them, and in any two hour period I can see ten or twelve different groups of young teens doing synchronized running. It's definitely a young-teen thing; they like to be noticed. The boys come in many types and sizes; long haired boys, their hair streaming behind them ranging down to boys with real short haircuts like Mike and me. There are dark skin and light skin boys and the beautiful tan skin boys too; tough looking boys and cute looking ones, some with smiles on some faces and arrogance on the faces of others. They all look fresh starting out, but a half hour later when they're heading back-up the other way they're drenched in sweat. People hand them bottled water as they go by; I bring a few eight ounce bottles myself to pass out to the cutest boys. Some of them give me mean looks and others give me that beautiful youthful teenage boy's smile with shiny innocent eyes. I can tell when the boys are from affluent neighborhoods because half of them have braces on their teeth. It's a fun way to enjoy a morning; the coolest weather of the day, beautiful bright sunny skies, watching the boys go by. The boys in the pods need to concentrate so as not to breaks the rhythm. They always run without shirts, clothed only in skimpy running shorts and sneakers showing off strong, tight, hairless chests and recently acquired sparse hair on their calves they strut their stuff. I want to join in and run with them all. Those bright youthful faces that I never appreciated until Mike showed me the way; if only he could see it for himself. I wonder how many of these jogging boys is gay, but won't admit it to himself? Some mornings when I'm horny I pick out the boys in the pods who I'd most like to kiss on the lips; it makes me laugh to think what the straight boys would do if I did kiss them. Ha! If I could just have one kiss on the lips from each of them, what a morning that would be! Oh yeah, the runners are hot and, at the same time, so kewl too. Watching them is such a hoty treat, but that's for other mornings; this morning I'm painting a porch. I procrastinate until almost noon, but once I get started the painting doesn't take a hellava long time and I'm done before I hear the roar of Mike's motorbike at one-thirty in the afternoon. I'm sitting at the kitchen table eating a fried egg sandwich, enjoying the little cooler temperature inside while looking at the door in anticipation, and then Mike comes bursting in all sweaty and hot; hot in every way possible. He brings a lot of energy and heat with him. I try to say "Hi" but gulp and cough instead; he really takes my breath away sometimes. Mike smiles and shakes his head slightly, then squeezes my shoulder and rubs my head as he walks by me. There's new sunburn on his nose, his tan face shiny with perspiration, and his blond hair's as long as it was when he was recuperating from the stabbing; he hadn't been to the barbers since before his California trip and his hair is now about three-quarters of an inch long; I like to run my fingers through it and feel how soft it is, although I know it'll soon be bristly short again. Mike pulls off his tank top as soon as he walks by, showing off his tight body and the most perfect looking nipples anyone could ever have. They look like an artist painted them on his hairless chest. Mike has nice musculature definition, but not like a body builders build even though he lifts weights on a regular basis. I feel like licking him at times; he looks that good. He's just standing there shirtless, staring at me staring at him. I don't want to break the silence, but Mike does, "Did I ever tell you that for a guy you're really cute?" I cock my head to the side a little and grin at him goofily, in case he's joking with me, but he only nods his head, and says, "Make me one of those fried egg sandwiches, will ya? I'm gonna take a really fast shower," and he's off to the bathroom; was he serious about saying I'm cute? I get up and look in the mirror that's over the sofa and, he's right, I am cute! The eggs are fried, the toast has popped-up so I butter it, then lay the fried eggs with melted cheese on one piece of toast, add ketchup and a little salt and pepper on it, then cover with the other piece of toast. I'm cutting the sandwich in half as Mike comes out of the bedroom mostly dry, but naked as the day he was born. He has this real playful smile on his face as he sits at the table and eats half his sandwich in three bites. I sit down across from him and drink a kiwi-strawberry Snapple, watching Mike eat. I still haven't said a word since he got home, and now he's being quiet too. He takes the bottle from my hand, staring into my eyes, and drinks the rest of it without swallowing; just let's it roll down his throat. Almost finished the other half of his sandwich, he holds the last bite out for me to eat. I open my mouth like I'm in a trance and he pushes in the end of his sandwich. As I'm chewing that last bite of his sandwich, Mike wipes his mouth with a paper napkin, balls it up and tosses it towards the kitchen trash can only to have it bounce off the rim making Mike smile as he lights a cigarette. After a few puffs he gives it to me, so I take a drag, then let the smoke curl out of my nose in a cool way. The filter's wet where Mike purposely lipped it. He motions with his index finger for me to come to him and now I'm thinking I actually am in a trance as I slowly walk around the little table and sit on Mike's naked lap, facing him. We stare into each others eyes; his are sparkling and alive with energy as he takes the cigarette from me and inhales a big drag, then blows it in my face. We're both squinting our eyes from the smoke as Mike snuffs out the cigarette in an ashtray. His mouth's slightly open as he cups the back of my head to pull my head over to his, our noses bump just before our lips meet and then our tongues. We both have remnants of cigarette smoke drifting out of our mouths as we kiss, gently embracing each others neck. The mutual taste of nicotine, kiwi-strawberry Snapple and fried egg mix with our saliva and is sexy to me; anything shared with Mike is sexy to me. Our teeth scrape together and our mixed spit begins to wet our lips, chins, and cheeks. I moan a quiet moan, my cock feels like it's ready to snap off in my shorts. Mike puts his hands under my thighs and I lift up so he can undo my cargo shorts and pull them down, along with my boxers. It's clumsy for a bit as I step out of my clothes, but I'm quickly back on Mike's lap, naked from my waist down now. Mike's cock's standing there, straight-up between us, it's so hard and long I grunt thinking about it being up inside me. My cock's there too, right next to Mike's and it's as hard as granite; the very tip of mine reaches to where the head of Mike's cock begins. We hug together, then kiss as our bodies move against one another. Mike fingers my hole, his other arm holding me tight against his naked body and I finally break my silence, saying quietly, "Please Mike, I'm gonna cum too soon. Can we stop for a second." Mike shakes his head 'no', then sucks on my upper lip, then my tongue, while pushing his finger way up inside me. I blow spit into Mike's mouth as a squeal comes out of my throat and my cum shoots up between us. It's all over my T-shirt, and Mike's bare chest and belly. I think I black-out for a second, the intensity was so great. I'm dizzy now, but everything gets quickly back in focus as my entire body shudders against Mike. He's aroused, I know that; he's breathing hard and scooping up my cum, then pushing it in my hole, lubing me with my own cum. In less than a minute after climaxing, I'm up off his lap, crouching face to face, as Mike positions his hard cock, shiny and wet with pre cum, at my hole. "Okay, Richie! Do it now; go ahead, sit down on it." Mike's blowing short puffs of air in my face, his blue eyes closed, as I begin my descent on that pole of his. It's tight and it hurts some, but I'm biting my lip with the thrill of it all. When I'm all the way down, sitting flat on Mike's lap, we do some tentative kissing, working our way up to full blown French kissing, then sucking on each other's tongue and lips, our arms around each other tight. Mike, with his lips against mine, says, "Oh fuck, this feels ridiculously awesome! I love your ass!" and he starts a slow humping of his hips as I make little squeaky sounds, a mixture of pleasure and pain that quickly becomes all pleasure; erotic pleasure. Our faces our close together, perspiring foreheads touching, our breath mixing moistly, my arms around his neck, and oh my God does he ever smell good! His boner's going up and back easily now; I'm lifting up slightly as he's humping forward which somehow make the penetration seem longer; then I sit back on his lap as he pulls out of my hole and that seems to extend the pleasure too. Afternoon sex can't be beat. Mike's mumbling, "Go ahead Richie, fuck yourself on my boner," but the words barely come out in a whisper; he's very turned-on which excites me and adds to my pleasure. I begin riding his cock steadily while holding onto his shoulders with both my hands, his hands at my waist; the sensations in my rectum gets me grunting with with each plow up my ass, and gets my balls working up more spunk. Mike, still with his eyes closed, starts making some of the sounds I'd been making earlier, and everything is perfect and I want it to last forever. Mike gets a hand it in between us and begins stroking my cock; within a minute I'm hard again. Dipping my knees, then straightened up, I ride Mike fabulous cock feeling it grow inside me; my eyes are watering and my toes begin to curl as the sensations in my ass increase until it's impossible to describe how good it feels, and all the time I'm inhaling Mike's sexy scent and clutching his awesome body and rubbing my sweaty face against his; it's ecstasy for me! "Faster...do it faster Richie," and almost as soon as I pick-up the pace Mike grabs around my waist and humps violently twice, moaning like he's in pain, then I actually feel the cum shoot up my hole; one sharp shot, then smaller shots of his creamy spunk. It goes up my rectum and then drools back out around Mike's cock as he's making weird, "Awwwkkk!" sounds, He humps me twice more, with less energy, sending a couple more squirts of spunk up my ass replacing some that's drooled out. He's moaning pleasure sounds now, continuing to fuck me slowly, then a long sigh with his face all scrunched-up as he experiences the after shock of his huge climax; his body shudders, then relaxes. I feel overheated with mixed feeling; I loved my wonderful earlier climax, and this great fuck on my ass too, but I was close to another climax and I'm greedy and wanted that too, but I couldn't quite get there. Mike had stopped stroking my cock when he had his orgasm, so, what the hell, I grab it now myself and stroke it to beat the band, grunting and squirming on his cock, that's still awesomely up my ass, and sure enough, in less then a minute I get over the top for my second climax, shooting a little squirt that mostly just drools onto my hand. It wasn't much at all, but it felt wicked good just the same. We're resting our head on each others shoulders, the sides of our faces touching; we stay like this for five minutes or so, coming down from our mutual high. Mike's still up inside me and what a great feeling that is; a filled-up feeling that you either love or you don't. Finally, Mike rubs up the back of my head, and say, "Richie, that was special! Just like I imagined it in my head all morning at work." I kiss the side of his face, and he wearily mumbles, "Fucking you was so good, but man, I'm so tired. I need to catch up on some sleep and I want you to lay down with me while I do it. It's become a part of my addictive personality that I can't hardly sleep without you next to me. I'll get a couple hours of sleep, then we hit the boardwalk; okay?" I'm uber flattered he needs me sleeping next to him! Enthused, I go, "Sure thing, absolutely, Mike." So that's why he wanted me here and not on the boardwalk... he wanted sex with me, and then a nap together; so cool!! As I'm taking off my sticky T-shirt, I lift up off Mike's lap and his semi-firm cock slides out as we both go, "Ahh ohh!" Mike strokes his cock a few times as I'm wiping my ass with some tissues; then Mike takes my T-shirt and uses it to cleans his penis, belly, and chest. After that we're in the bathroom using wet, warm wash clothes to wipe ourselves down, "Be quicker to shower," Mike mutters as we climb onto the bed and get under the sheet naked, Mike wraps his arms around me, followed by a little bit of rustling around until we're cozy, cozy, cozy, and Mike's doing his almost inaudible snoring thing in less than two minutes. I rub my nose against his neck enjoying his special smell, and next thing I'm aware of is my dad coming in the front door from work. I can't believe I slept this long; Mike's still sleeping soundly as I get out of bed and put some clothes on, then pad out of the bedroom to say "Hi!" to my dad. He's in an especially good mood, first because I painted the porch, and second because he had a really nice reunion with Mike's mom last night. And thirdly, today at the casino, a high-roller won big at my dad's blackjack table, and when done gambling, the guy flipped my dad a five hundred dollar chip as a tip. Dad said the guy did win a lot, but he was drunk too, which may have contributed to the size of the tip. Dad goes, "Ya gotta love the drunk gamblers!" He went on to tell me he's taking Mike's mom to dinner to celebrate the five hundred dollar tip and wants to know if Mike and I care to join them at a fancy, expensive restaurant. I begged off saying it might be awkward, but I was mostly thinking that it would be awkward for Mike; I'd like to eat in an expensive swanky restaurant. Dad says he understands, "You two hot shits will have more fun with your friends, right? You guys don't need to be hanging-out with your old parents. That's okay, Mike's mom and me were saying just last night what great kids you two are. We're both proud of you guys and we hope you both know that. And you should also know that we'll support any important decisions you guys make. We'll be there for you, in other words, 'cause we care about you." When dad finished with his puzzling, but nice, speech he gives me two fifty dollar bills and tells me to treat Mike to a nice dinner wherever we want to go. Without thinking, I hug him while thanking him. Dad looks a bit uncomfortable with the hug because he and I have never been real big on hugging, to say the least. As a matter of fact our first hug was our last one, that was around the time of Mike's stabbing; a lot of things changed since then though, and changed for the good if ya ask me. My dad's changed so much from the first day I moved in with him it's hard to believe; neither of us is the same person we were back then; it's all good. Dad's in the bathroom getting ready for his date now, and I'm feeling awesome, drinking a coke, and watching ESPN; with a hundred dollars in my pocket, hot shit! I do wonder a little about that, "We'll support you in your decisions," comment dad made in his speech, but I'm feeling too nice to linger on that right now, although it is baffling. I thinking maybe dad came on too strong with it; and what exactly is he referring to anyway? Whatever, it's wonderful just to be able to relax, especially for me because of my normally nervous state of mind. I imagine that most guys take relaxation for granted, but I'm from a broken home where my mom chose her boyfriend over me, sent me packing to my dad who regularly smacked my face. My life had no love in it and no friends here at first either, so... no nothing! Now everything's changed a great deal; it's sweet now, but I have physiological scars from tensions and worries in earlier childhood. It's all about Mike now though, as I said, everything changed when he came into my life. I can hear my dad humming in his bedroom, badly out of tune, but it makes me feel good and puts a smile on my face to see him happy and smiley. Actually it's getting so that's a routine thing and it's mostly do to the fact that dad and Mike's mom are having a wonderful time together. Mike and me do not want to know what those two do together that pleases them so much, we simply do not want to go there; we're just glad they're happy, and that it works out well for us too... I'm just saying. On his way past me dad lightly raps his knuckles on my head, saying, "That's some hairdo you got there kiddo, and those earrings are something else all-together too; boys wearing earrings, what's next? But what the hell, it's not hurting anything so, go for it. Well, it's best be true to yourself anyway, I suppose... enjoy being young, Richie, 'cause youth don't last nearly long enough." And then he's out for the evening. More mysterious musings from dad, he must be getting this stuff from Mrs. Sullivan. I wander back to the bedroom and, with my shorts and t-shirt on, climb back into bed with Mike. He looks like he's fourteen years old when he's sleeping. I do my usual deep staring at him, trying to memorize every individual atom that makes Mike who he is. Looking at his lips now, the lips I've kissed so often, makes me wonder how they'd feel around my swollen boner? What would it feel like having my cock slippery wet with Mike's spit? I know I love sucking his cock, but will he ever suck mine? Lying on my back now, looking at the ceiling while contemplating this hot subject of Mike sucking my dick. I casually play with my stiffening cock at the very idea of it. Ha ha, I really am over-sexed ya know? "Having fun?" Mike asks, in a sleepy voice. Turning my head I see he's giving me his cutest smirk and I bark out a laugh, embarrassed he saw me so openly playing with myself. "Okay, you caught me again, Mike; it's amazing you catch me so often because it's rare that I play with myself." We joke about me being hopelessly gay, and about the way we'd had wild sex, not five hours ago, and here I am playing with myself already. Mike says, "It's like you only have one thing on your mind, Richie... it's exhausting trying to satisfy your insatiable appetite for gay sex." I go, "You poor boy, it must be a real burden on you; how ever do you manage?" he shrugs, and I say, "You're such a marvelous actor too! In your efforts to satisfy my outlandish sexual needs, you make it seem as though you can never get enough either." He calls me a pervert, and we have fun pretending to insult each other for a few minutes. When we're both quiet, I get brave, and take a chance, "Mike, will you show me what it feels like to have a special friend suck me off; will you suck on my tiny, insignificant, and lonely, little pecker? Just once, please." Mike immediately goes, "Are you kidding me, Richie?" but I can't place his tone of voice exactly, it didn't seem angry, so I say, "No Mike, I'm serious; it's something I've wondered about for a long time." Mike tells me, "Well, honestly Richie, I've never blown anyone; never really thought about it actually. I'm under the impression the two girls at school who were giving guys blow jobs did it because it turns them on... and, ya know, I thought the same thing about you. I mean, you're a hundred times more special to me than those girls at school, but you know...." and he kinda ran out of words then. He doesn't appear to be pissed off about it, so I press the point, "Well, I do like to do it to you, Mike, but I'd like you to do it to me too and see what it's like; both of us can see what it's like." Mike's making a face like, "I don't know about this," then he shrugs again, and says, "Christ Richie, I didn't think you were interested in me doing that; you've never brought it up. But what the hell, what's the big deal? Okay, I'll try sucking on that cute dick of yours. Do you have any special time or place in mind for this momentous occasion to take place?" My heart's pounding, and now I'm not sure if this feels right, but damnit, I do want his mouth on my dick, so I answer, "Well Mike, hows about right now, dude." Mike mumbles, "Don't call me dude, Richie. Let's try this as a sixty-niner for my trial run, what do you say, Richie?" Putting my face right up close to his, I ask, "Is that one of those questions you ask that's not really a question, but is really just telling me what we're going to do?" He says, "Yes, that's exactly it!" I go, "I'm good to go, dude!" Mike punches my arm playfully, saying, "Don't fucking call me dude!" I chuckle, thinking, "Okay, no more chit chat, let's get to it!" scooting down under the sheets while pulling my shorts off, then struggling out of my underwear, I put Mike's cock in my mouth and wait to see what happens. What happened is: Mike jerked on my cock a few times and then I feel his tongue tentatively licking it. Another tentative lick on my cock head with me in shock, just barely stroking Mike's cock. He begins repeatedly to lick across the head of my cock. which I get a picture of in my head; his cute face, eyes probably closed, his awesome pink tongue lapping across my cock. The feel of it, and that picture in my head, quickly turns my dick into a very tight boner. I'm telling myself, "Concentrate on every sensation; don't miss anything!" Mike's doing very nicely with big fat tongue licks combined with lots of saliva. I'm trying not to over do it, but can't help going, "Umph...aggg!" as he licks up the shaft of my cock from my nuts to the head. Then my cock is in a very warm juicy place and I have shivers up and down my spine, followed by shoulder shudders, then a body spasm as my body jerks around, seemingly involuntarily. More strange noises from my throat as Mike's chuckling around my pulsating boner, his tongue covers his bottom teeth as he begins sliding my cock in and out of his mouth on that fat wet squishy soft pink tongue of his. Soon it feels like I'm about to shoot off a waterfall size load, but that's crazy 'cause I've already had two orgasms earlier today. Then, something new, Mike uses his top teeth to scrape down the shaft of my boner, the sensation is right on the borderline between uncomfortable and awesomely sexy; I don't know what I'm feeling, but I like it... brand new sensations. My body's almost as stiff as my boner 'cause I don't know what's coming next, and the anticipation has me tense, but also excited. Mike does a light bite on the head of my cock then, and I make a weird squawking sound that gets him laughing again, then pushing my cock back in his mouth and this time he sucks it and licked it until I shoot off a fantastic-feeling climax, bucking my hips so hard my boner pulls out of Mike's mouth and I grab hold of it to stroked my saliva-soaked cock pulling up every drop of creamy white cum my nuts can manufactured, which isn't much; maybe they're overworked. During the orgasm I made a weird, "Eeeeeeeeee..." sound, feeling foolish as I did it, but the climax felt really good and the sound just came out of my mouth on it's own. Mike's laughing again, pulling a pubic hair out of his mouth, then going, "Yuck!" I pull my head full out from under the sheets, and Mike says, " I enjoyed my maiden blow-job, what'd ya think about that?" I mumble, "Maiden? That don't sound like a guy word, ya know?" He goes, "Okay, fuck you then; they'll be no more blow jobs for you unless you watch your fresh potty mouth, and those pubes gotta go!" Smiling up at him, I rustle around getting beside him at the head of the bed, and quietly mutter, "I'm sorry, Maiden, I'll wash my mouth out with soap." My dick's feeling different somehow, and I stare at it trying to picture it inside Mike's mouth, a very nice visual for my head. Mike says, "Maiden, my ass! And, hey, I hate to have to tell ya, but you don't know shit about sixty-nining, do ya Richie?" I'm still in the clouds a little, I mean, Mike just sucked me off! Catching my breath, then shaking my head, trying to clear my brain, I go, "What..? That blow job was awesome, whaddaya mean?" Mike says, "Well, one of the important things about sixty-nining is both guys, at the same time, suck each other's cock." I look confused for a second, then realize all I'd done was absently stroke Mike's cock; I'd been so overcome with the sensations of Mike licking and sucking my cock that I never once tasted his. We both laughed at my minor oversight, once Mike's tongue touched my dick all thoughts of sucking his flew from my head; I was all about enjoying myself on the thrilling new ride Mike took me on... awesome! on. It's amazing to me is how different Tom Brown's blowjob was compared to Mike's. Tom's, which I thought was hot as hell at the time, now seems very tame when compared to this one and, obviously, knowing it's Mike, my true love, who's sucking my cock is a much bigger turn-on than knowing Tom Brown's sucking it, but there's simply no comparison at all, and I thought there would be. I spent some time telling Mike what a fantastic blow-job this was, especially for his first!" He looks at me with a questioning expression on his face, so I clarify, "Not that I'm an expert on blowjobs, all I know is I loved every second of yours, Mike!" Mike again insisted it was the first one he's ever given and I believe him, but not because he didn't do it great, I believe him because I don't want to think he'd lie about that. He said he was sure that I'm the only person he'd ever do it for, but for me he'd consider doing it again, "If you're a good boy, Richie, and if you cut those pubes 'cause I don't like 'em in my mouth!" I say, "I'm flattered to be the only boy you'll suck a cock for, but I can't cut my pubes, what will the guys in gym class say?" He reaches over and picks up my mostly limp cock, saying, "You got a nice looking pecker here, dude. It's so clean looking," then he pulls on my bush, saying, "But these are evil!" I say, "There must be room for compromise because, with a hell of a lot of practice, I can envision you getting good at sucking my dick." Mike's like, "Oh boy, are you delusional!" Playfully, I say, "Okay, the cock sucking's out of the way for now. Next on the agenda is finding a lube of your choice so I can begin fucking you on a regular basis. Do you want to try the same lube I use?" Mike's getting out of bed, talking normally. "You are such an asshole, Richie, and you're way out of your league with talk like that. Way ahead of yourself, dude." He chuckles a little when he says it, but I felt an under current of force, he means what he's saying. Hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I'm sure Mike's thinking, "Give 'em an inch and they'll take a mile!" Okay, so my boner won't be testing those waters any time soon, and I'll remain a bottom, but believe me, that ain't bad at all! Anyway, I finally asked him to do it, I'm proud of myself for broaching the subject, and I'm really proud of Mike for the way he handled himself too. Around eight o'clock at night, after dinner, we head out to see what the boardwalk has in store for us tonight. Nothing special as it turns out, and nothing different from Mike either; he's just the same as he was before the blow-job. I haven't been able to detect the slightest change in him although I scrutinizing him even more carefully than I usually do. We spend some time with four of the guys, but split up early. Mike and me make our way over in front of the boardwalk railing on the beach side to sit on one of the benches that line the railing. We aren't especially hungry but we're eating a slice of pizza anyway while quietly watching the human side-show pass by us. Mike groans, "Oh Jesus... what the..?" and almost at once I catch a whiff of the odoriferous winds emanating from a large black woman who'd stopped right in front of us, her wide backside in our faces. She says to a cute little girl, as the woman's skirt puffs away from her fanny and noxious gas surrounds Mike and me, "Mommy's not feeling too good, honey. I'm going to have to get back to the motel quickly." Off they walk with the little girl asking, "Was it those chili hot dogs, mommy?" Mike and me look at each other for a second, get up together pinching our nostrils, and dump the rest of our pizza slices in a large trash can near the steps leading down to the beach. "That was delightful!" Mike absently says, and I go, "Sure thing, Mike." He motions us towards the steps where we both get the giggles at how bad that fart was; we're laughing as we go down the steps to the beach, with Mike asking, "Haw many chilli dogs do ya suppose she had, Richie?" I go, "It surprised the hell out of me her skirt didn't burst into flames." The afternoon nap has revitalized Mike and me so we're staying out late tonight. Walking on the beach at midnight, down near the water, smoking Marlboro Lights, it's a cool feeling, especially when you're with the number one person in your world. It's almost chilly tonight, with a fairly strong breeze off the ocean, waves breaking on shore at our feet. Mike says, "Come over here, closer, Richie," and when I get real close he does his arm across my shoulders thing, which always starts with a quick hug around my neck that pulls me into his side and sometimes he'll kiss the side of my head showing affection for me that he usually won't admit he feels. We walk real close together, his arm across my shoulders; sometimes it's okay for me to put an arm around his waist. When we walk like this I feel so close to him, in so many ways too. I love it! Our bodies rub against one another as we silently walk on the hard- packed wet sand, carrying our sandals in our free hand. The moon's bright and full, but when it goes behind an occasional cloud it's dark and we look carefully where we step so we don't cut our feet on a broken clam shell. It's a sweet feeling being alone with Mike like this, and like I said: in the entire world there isn't a single person or a single place I'd rather be than right here with Mike. We walk for twenty minutes without either of us saying a word. I'd feel awkward, and the silence would become 'deafening' if I were alone with anybody else, but not with Mike. I squeeze Mike's waist from time to time, my feelings for him over-flow with love for him. I want to go into a long dissertation about how much he means to me and how deeply I love him, but I know Mike too well to do that. It would make him feel uncomfortable and that's not good. Mike turns us around to head way back up the beach to the spot on the boardwalk were Mike's motorbike is chained. Mike says, "What would you call the two of us, Richie? How would you describe our relationship?" This is a question fraught with danger. I think carefully and say, "The two best buds the world has ever seen." He said, "Yes, that's it." We walk some more, and Mike asks, "You remember when I told you about my addictive personality and how I've somehow become addicted to you, right?" I nodded my head, and say, "Yeah, sure thing, Mike. You mentioned about that a day or so ago." Mike mumbles, "Well, yeah, I guess I did at that. Anyway, there's no improvement of my condition, I'm still addicted; just to keep you updated." Oh brother, it's hard not to burst out with a laugh sometimes, but I keep it under control. That was it for our conversation till we got back to his bike. Mike unlocks the chain, saying," I feel really good about things Richie, and you've got a lot to do with that. Thanks. I really mean it... thank you, buddy!" I mumble, "Sure thing, Mike. You too." We ride home, and later in bed, we did the best and sexiest sixty-nine the world has ever seen. Another world record established by us. I spunked into Mike's mouth first, but he followed with spunk of his own, some in my mouth and some shot in my eye. I scrambled around up and out from under the sheets after our orgasms and swapped cum with him as he laid back on his pillow. What a hot make-out we had after that too, and later, gasping for breath, Mike goess, " Oh my God, you're a hottie, Richie. I'm being tested by a higher power somehow!" I go, "That BS is even over the top for you!" He goes, "I don't know what you mean... pass me a cigarette, will ya?" We share this smoke too, our little ashtray resting on Mike's bare belly. Finished the cigarette, Mike says, in a phony serious manner, "Richie, I've been thinking. Are we sex deviates or something! Ya think we should seek professional help?" I say, "Sure thing, Mike. That's just what we should do!" He looks over and smiles, shaking his head a little, before saying, "Sure thing, Mike!" I open my eyes wide, like, "What?" and he says, "No matter what I say, you say... 'Sure thing, Mike'... I may have heard that a few thousand times this past year. Haven't I?" I go, "Sure thing, Mike". We fell asleep shortly after that because I don't recall anything else. All I know is it's been a hell of a couple of days since Mike's been back, and I love it all!! to be continued.... Donny Mumford thinkat20@yahoo.com