Date: Sat, 4 Dec 2010 14:29:20 -0800 (PST) From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com> Subject: MIKE and RICHIE Chapter 8 by Donny Mumford MIKE and RICHIE Chapter 8 by Donny Mumford Mike thinks our new neighbor, Tom Brown, is gonna be trouble, but I'm not so sure. He's kinda hot, and a lot arrogant, but maybe the arrogance is covering up something; like maybe he's nervous about being in a new neighborhood without friends. I know how that feels; of course, I didn't get arrogant because of it, but that's just me... Tom could be different. I'll give him a chance. Anyway, we haven't seen him in the neighborhood since his move-in day a couple months ago. I've seen him in the halls a few times but he isn't in any of our classes so he sorta faded into the background completely. A few of us guys are talking during lunch break. We're outside on the other side of the school's parking lot with Tony's into a lisping diatribe about a new kid in his homeroom, "He's got the smallest dick I've ever seen. This new kid's taking a piss in the urinal right next to me so I couldn't help but notice. Okay, I purposely glanced over to look, and I don't know why; I never do that. Seriously, I don't! Something made be look and I swear to God I thought he was peeing through a short straw. Big head on that baby though, I''ll say that for it." Tony's nodding his head at Joey, and then at me, trying to get confirmation from one of us that this is an awesome discovery. Then he acts annoyed when we give him only blank stares. He preservers trying to get us excited about it just the same, "I mean, fuck! Ya know, a little tiny dick on a kid in the 10th grade? It's funny as hell, and unheard of, no?" More blank looks from Joey and me has Tony's running out of energy with this, mumbling, "Ya gotta check him out in the showers after gym or something? The new fucking kid, the one with the tiny dick." Ignoring that, Joey takes out his pack of cigarettes and offers them around, asking, "Why do you keep going on about this, Tony?" We all take a cigarette and light up with Joey asking, "What's the new kid's name, and who looks at a guy's dick anyway? What the fucks wrong with you?" Tony says, "I don't remember tiny dick's name, what the fuck difference does that make..." and Joey argues back, but by now I'm not paying attention, it's a 'Tony and Joey' moment so I just let their words evaporate into thin air before they reach me. This is right after the first of the year, we'd eaten lunch with Mike and Kyle too, but for some reason those two aren't out here yet. The rest of our gang has the second lunch break so it's usually just the five of us. I'm looking around at nothing special, just watching the light snow swirling around in the air and eventually melting on the blacktop. It's typically cold weather for this time of year in Wildwood; hard to believe in less than six months people will be laying on the beach, almost naked, sunbathing. Today my head's full of happy thoughts because last night Mike, his Mom, my Dad, and me went out to dinner and discussed Mike staying at my dad's house for the remainder of the school year. Everyone agreed it's the best arrangement, with me probably more in agreement than anybody else because I'm in love with Mike who's pretty much completely recovered from the stabbing incident of last summer and is now on a weight lifting program that he insist I participate in. Tony intrudes into my daydreaming, "Do you know his name, Richie?" I look up, and go, "What?" which is something I say quite often. Tony patiently repeats himself, "Small dick, he's the new kid. What's his name?" We're back to this. I put my index finger to my lips as if I'm deep in thought, then say, "Hmmm, let me think! Small dick's name wouldn't be Tony, would it?" This goes over Tony's head, and he goes, "No I don't think so, that don't sound right." I really like Tony, what you see is what you get; he's exactly as he appears to be. No subtlety and no sarcasm in this boy; not a lot in the way of brains either, but he's got a sweet nature and a he's good friend. He'd assumed my guess was sincere, the thought I'd be teasing him never entered his mind. Shortly the conversation drifts on in another directions but Tony mentioning a new kid made me think of Tom Brown. He's been in school for a few months, but Tony doesn't know him; wouldn't it be funny if it's Tom that got transferred to Tony's homeroom and he's the tiny dick boy. That made me smile because no way is it Tom Brown, not if a small dick is part of the package. I'm remembering his bulging crotch in the gym shorts that day we met on our porch. As I think about him I glance through a window and see Tom in the cafeteria; what a coincidence! He's holding court at his own lunch table. Tom and his bulging crotch never eat lunch with us; he mostly hangs out with the snobby Abercrombie and Fitch crowd... not that any of us give a shit. Still, he intrigues me for some reason. Mike and I have discussed Tom Brown a few times after that first encounter; we can't figure out if he's gay or if it's just that he thinks Mike and me are; or maybe it's something else altogether. I know that Mike doesn't like anybody thinking he's gay so that may be one of the reasons he has no interest in Tom who, after all, lives only two doors away from us. As I'm thinking about these things, Mike and Kyle finally do show up... cigarettes between their lips, looking very pleased with themselves. They smugly tell us they've been successful getting dates for the school's "Winter Dance". That's where they've been. Amazingly, they talked the Baxter twins into going with them to the dance. These are two very popular girls and they rarely date outside their own species. They're apparently making an exception for the Winter Dance because Mike and Kyle are closer to the Gothic crowd than the Abercrombie & Finch crowd. We give congratulating high fives and fist bumps; almost as if we care. I didn't show it, but I did care; I care a lot, and I'm unhappy and disappointed because I wanted Mike to go 'stag' like me and the other guys. I'm jealous too; jealous that Mike was taking a date for one thing, and even more jealous that he was double dating with Kyle and not with me. I could feel my face getting red so I mumbled something about needing to get to my next class early. Embarrassing, but I was afraid my freaking eyes were going to start tearing-up. Man, I need to get a grip, and I need to remember Mike doesn't belong to me. While doing our homework later in the afternoon I work up the courage to ask Mike why he and Kyle had come up with this crazy idea to take dates to the dance. I needed to, "work up the courage" because Mike doesn't like me questioning what he does; he takes it like I'm being critical or something. And sure enough, when I ask he looks at me with his stern face, and says, "Why the fuck do you think I need to explain my every action to you?" I shrug, and go, "You don't, Mike, I'm just wondering, that's all." He lightens up a little, and says, "Just so ya know, I've been trying to get a date with Tonya for a year now. You get to suck my cock, Richie, and you get fucked regularly so be happy about that and don't pry into my personal life." I mumble again that I was just wondering, that's all. Mike, like he does more often now, feels guilty about being gruff with me and, after a few seconds, his face softens and he mutters, "Sorry I jumped down your throat, Richie." I shrug, and go, "It's cool, I'm good." He squeezes the back of my neck, and says, "Hey, even though we're not done our homework, go on in the bedroom and get undressed and I'll let you suck me off. I hate seeing you pout." I hesitate, not sure he's serious, and he adds, "Go ahead now, and I'll give you a good hard fucking too." Now I give him a blank look because this is his answer to everything; he does me the favor of letting me suck his cock into a boner so he can fuck me good and hard. Jesus! I only did the blank look for about a second though, then I hurry to do what he told me to do 'cause I'm always up for some sex with Mike. Sucking Mike off never gets old; it's great. This afternoon, when I've sucked his dick into a rock hard boner, he wants to fuck me on my knee with my forearms on the floor, my forehead resting on my wrist, and my boy pussy up in the air waiting to get fucked. He straddles me from behind and really fucks my ass fast and hard. It has my head bouncing as he stands behind me holding onto my hips, humping into me and making a slapping sound every time his crotch smacks up against my ass. When he gets his rhythm going, driving into me hard, fast, and deep, every penetration inches my body a little bit forward and causes me to grunt "Ohh!" at each slam up my ass. I eventually hit my head against the base board of the bedroom wall and shoot off so forcefully cum splashes all over my chin. Mike climaxed right after that and really filled me up with a huge, creamy load that drools out of my hole with each additional thrust of that great cock way up inside me. Whoa, I can't wait for the next time Mike gets a guilty conscience! He pulls out with a slap across my ass, asking, "How'd that feel?" I put my hand over my hole scrambling up on my feet to head for the bathroom and some tissues to soak up the cum drooling out of me, saying, "You know how much I like it, Mike!" wanting to add, "and you like it just as much as me!" but I don't say it. We still share my bedroom which has only the one twin bed and a sleeping bag on the floor next to it. Supposedly we're taking turns with the bed; dad said he'd buy us another bed except the room's not big enough to fit another bed. Of course, the truth is Mike and I share the bed most of the time. Well, except for recently when I get carried away and show too much affection toward him; too much hugging and kissing. He'll get pissed and I'd rather sleep on the floor in the sleeping bag when that happens. Mike hugs and kisses and licks me often, but that's different. He considers it my "reward" for being his personal cock sucker which, as I've said a million times, is ridiculous and I can't believe he believes his own preposterous rationalization. Anyway, the Saturday of the dance arrives and Mike's borrowed his brother's pickup for the double date. I'm getting a ride with Tony in his dad's big SUV which is not a cool ride, but better than my alternative which is to ride Mike's motor bike in twenty degree weather. Lately Mike's been acting pre-occupied when we're alone and I'm beginning to think he might be losing interest in me. It's a real fear I have and I spend too much time worrying about it. I'm always looking to do something that will impress Mike and make him like me more, so this morning when he says he's going to Manny's for a haircut it hits me that this might be one of those things I can do to get on his good side. I casually asks if I can come with him and get a haircut too; I've never been to Manny's. Mike nods his head that I can, saying, "Yeah, but since you've never been ya better let me give the barber instructions." Asking to go with him does seem to pleas Mike. I bump into his side, on purpose, and he hugs me around the neck, then gives the side of my head a quick kiss. This is more like it! We take the pickup and when we get there nobody's in the shop this early on a Saturday morning, and no Manny either. Inside Mike says, "Yo Tito, sup?" Tito nods his head towards me, and asks, "Who's this?" and I feel proud when Mike says, "He's my best bud, that's who he is. I want you to give him a Mike Sullivan special." I gulp and try to object, but I'm ignored. Tito's goes, "Oh swell, just what I need to start my day! Let's go, kid!" He's a gruff bastard and I'm not great handling unexpected situations, especially with gruff people, so I do what he said while still trying to convince the barber that I just want a regular haircut. Mike sees me blushing and knows I'm stressed, but he's firm, "Cut it just like mine, Tito!" and that made it kinda final 'cause Tito sure as shit wasn't paying any attention to me. With slumped shoulders and a pout on my face, I sit there in the barber chair as the clippers buzz for five minutes causing most of my hair to relocate from my head to my lap. Then Tito used a straight razor to outlined across my hairline and down the hairline on the sides, finishing by bringing my sideburns to points like Mike always has. When I get out of the chair, my head hanging, feeling like a different person, Mike squeezes the back of my neck and whispers to me, his nose bumping my ear, "I want you to keep it this way, Richie." I lean briefly against him, loving the feel of him, and mumble, "Okay Mike, I will." Mike gets his cut the same way of course, and it is kinda cool being like Mike. On the way home, stopped at a red light in the pickup, Mike reaches an arm over to get me around the neck pulling me to the side so he can take my hat off and rub my bristly head, saying, "Thanks for going along with this, Richie, and thanks for being the most special friend I've ever had." Whoa, it looks like for once I scored some points with Mike. He always likes it when I agree with him or take his side in an argument, but generally speaking, he's happiest when I do everything exactly like he does it. I really needed this affirmation that Mike's not losing interest in me though, so getting the buzz cut proves to be just the right ticket today; I can sense Mike's approval and I'm beaming and basking in the glow. My dad's working this weekend so the house is empty when we get back. Mike's in a real good mood, saying, "Okay, buddy, you earned an early morning reward. Take your clothes off and you can suck me off real quick like." Oh man, yesterday afternoon, and again this morning, with Mike suggesting it both times! Hot shit!!! It takes me only thirty seconds to get naked, which has Mike chuckling and running his hands over my slim body; a body that showing some muscle definition from the weight lifting we started some time ago. He murmurs, "I swear, you've got the most perfect skin; it's so smooth, firm, and pink." And he takes my dick in his hand then, looking me in the eyes as I breath in little burst, getting all hot and bothered. Oh man, if getting a buzz cut gets Mike complimenting me like this and playing with my naked body, I wish I'd gotten one months ago. He drops my dick when it's firmed up a bit and motions for me to get down on my knees, which I do sort of in a trance, then unzip his jeans and pull his dick out; he already has a semi hard-on himself. Is that from running his hands over my naked body or playing with my dick, I wonder? I start right in licking under his balls and back near his anus, which is giving off a slightly shitty odor 'cause we haven't showered since yesterday morning. I keep my own ass super clean using a wet washcloth each time I do number two; and I'm lucky not to have a single hair on my ass, so with that on my side and keeping it clean back there I'm hoping Mike never has a reason to complains about a shitty smell of mine. His, I don't mind 'cause anything about Mike is good by me. Mike's constantly running his fingers over my newly buzzed hair as I lick around his private parts. I guess he's thinking how this is just one more triumph for him, but that's okay 'cause I'll do a lot to keep Mike interested in me. I cover his groin in saliva, going almost over his asshole. I'm like a dog marking his territory, and then I take his cock in my mouth and suck on it drinking his precum as I stroke my own hard cock. He continues rubbing all over my buzz cut head until he shoots a large load of creamy teenage cum into my mouth, it's sticky and salty and yummy. Mike pulls his cock out, grunting and breathing hard through his nose, his lips tight together as he strokes his steal-pipe hard boner firing off a string of spunk that hits on my forehead and then going up on his toes he squeezes our another string of creamy spunk that lands on the top of my head. Mike's very aroused today... red faced and breathing hard. Two flying drops of spunk hit on my cheek as he slows down his stroking and relaxes his posture. The barbershop experience that led up to this oral sex was both weird and kind of sexy in it's own right. Mike has tried talking me into getting this buzz haircut almost as long as I've known him; he really likes getting his way so this morning he gave up with convincing me and just ordered me to do it. Sitting in the barbers chair I pouted some, but at the same time it gave me a buzzing in my balls as the barber buzzed my head, and I think that's because Mike had taken things into his own hands. For some reason that's a turn on for me; I kinda like it when Mike bosses me around... when he's nice about it especially. Now I get to suck him off, so it's all good; I like my buzzcut already! On my knees in front of Mike,with the last of his cum shots hitting my cheek, I shoot off my own long juicy stream of creamy spunk, and it feels sensational. Making sure my boner is pointing at the floor so I don't shoot off on Mike, I tightened every muscle in my body and fire off a hot stream of spunk that burns my pee slit coming out so hard and fast. Awesome! After coming down off the climax high, I clean up the mess on the floor and then Mike gets very affectionate with the two of us on the bed, me still completely naked the way Mike likes me. Near the end of our making out Mike, for the very first time, begins stroking my boner and I shortly have my second climax of the morning. It wasn't much but it sure felt awesome to have Mike stroking my cock. He started fondling my body right after I got my haircut and now this new development. God, I love this boy! I cuddle with my head on Mike's shoulder and the sides of our faces touching. Mike has his arm under my neck and I feel so safe and loved, yes, he loves me; he just won't say it. And to think, just a few hours ago I was worried he'd lot interest in me. Wish I had more confidence. A half hour later I slide down on the bed and suck Mike's cock and balls until he blows his second load of the morning. All in all, a fabulous time. A wonderful day follows after that too, and then a pizza for dinner and all is right with the world. Oh yeah, I get another compliment too: Mike tells me I look 'hot' with this new haircut. I smirk at him like I knew I looked hot all along. So that's the good part, then around seven that evening Mike takes off to get Kyle for their double date with the twins and jealousy flares in my head for a bit, but I get over it by remembering how Mike and I seemed to grow closer today. Tony comes by for me with Joey and Mac already in the car. Mac naturally insists on riding shot gun so I sit in the back with Joey, who smells like he'd been drinking beer. Turns out it was rum and coke, not beer, and all three of them had half pints of Captain Morgans Rum in their pockets, plus cups of coke with lids and a straw sticking out of the lid. I go, "Yo Tony, you drinking and driving?" He tells me he's only having the one drink, no more. He lisps out that he needs to get a little high because he feels he had a better "rap" going for him with the chicks when he's had a little booze to smooth the way. He says, "It gets so I'm pretty much a chick magnet once I get a little booze in me." Of course he's serious, so Mac turns his head to look back at Joey and me, sharing grins that we're trying unsuccessfully to hide. We park, then hang out outside with a bunch of other kids smoking and drinking. Tony finishes his drink, then givers me his cup and I fill it part way with coke and add some rum. Plain coke is much better tasting, but at least coke and rum is drinkable. I've found that wine is totally undrinkable and 'shots' of anything alcoholic fall into the same 'undrinkable' category. Beer can be handled, but it's not tasty. Booze needs to be hidden in orange juice or soda, or something like that, in order for me to get it down. We all smoke which helps us swallow the drinks. I naturally get a lot of good natured razzing about finally joining the gang for real by getting my buzz haircut which all of them have had as long as I've known them. By the time we go into the high school and down the hallway to the gym where the dance is going on, I'm feeling the rum. I might even have enough false courage to ask someone to dance. I wish I could ask Mike. After being dared to, I do ask a couple of different girls to dance and surprisingly both of them said "yes". The first one is Judy Goldstein who's short, but real cute and perky. She slow danced with me and then stayed with me for a long time talking about boring stuff. It may be she likes me, so when she insist I try fast dancing, which I feel silly doing, I went along with her and tried. She actually taught me a basic dance move that we practiced together and I was actually having fun when Mac came over to say it's important I come with him. I excuse myself, but Judy's looking disappointed, and somehow I feel bad about that. Then I get mad at Mac because the only thing that was so important is that I keep him company having a smoke and another rum and coke out in the car. I'm pretty good at controlling my temper so I just mentioned that it's rude of him to make me hurt that girls feelings. He gave me the finger and said, "Rude this!" which makes no sense. I smoke in silence for a minute, then asks if he's seen Mike or Kyle. He hasn't, which is strange because the dance is half over. Back inside I hook up with Tony who tells me he almost got laid in the library a few minutes ago, but the girl chickened out at the last second. That's the reason he's decided to have another rum and coke. This time it's a can of coke from the vending machine that he'd added rum to. We passed it back and forth till it's done, then Tony spots a girl he says wants his body and he goes over to talk to her. Judy's now dancing with Tom Brown, of all people, so I ask my second girl of the night to dance. She's almost as tall as me and I don't even know her name, but with the false courage of the quick rum and coke I go right up and asked, "Ya wanna dance?" She said, "I'd love to, Richie," so somehow she knows my name, but as soon as we start our slow dance she tells me I smell like an ashtray in a bar. Sweet! We do just the one dance and I head for the boys room to pee out the rum and cokes. Right away I spot Tony in the hallway leading; he's deeply involved in a hot make-out which, unfortunately for him, is with an extremely fat girl. They're right there in plain sight. Tony's little ear rings bobbing around and a light sweat glistening on his buzzed red hair. The lower lip stud reflects the overhead light as the girl's fat thighs, in spandex pants under a short skirt, grip Tony's diminutive body in a dead grip; he's going nowhere. What a picture! He sees me now and takes a hand off the girl's meaty shoulder to shoot me the finger, then pulls his head away from hers to smirk at me. I somehow managed to return a look like, "Way to go Tony! without laughing out loud. The fat girl's huge, spandex-encased ass is jiggling like a huge bowl of jello as she sucked on Tony's face. Yuck! Inside the lavatory, after my pee, I'm chuckling to myself about Tony and his obese girlfriend. Then, slowly washing my hands, I notice a kid at the urinal and two feet pointing out, under the door in the first of the two toilet stalls. Some kid's taking a crap in a stall with a broken lock on the stall door, which I admit to having made the same mistake earlier in the year. It's awkward when someone swings open the door and there you sit with your dick swinging between your legs as you look up, smiling like a fool. Ah, the problems of high school life; particularly in a poor town like ours without enough money to keep things repaired, things like lavatory stall locks. I finish drying my hands and am about to leave when the heavy door to the lavatory is flung open so hard it bangs back against the tile wall startling me. Looking up I see a tall kid hurry through the door. He's got two fingers pressed to his lips, his cheeks puffed out, and his face stressed and red. Sweat shines on his forehead as his eyes blink in panic mode. This kid needs to throw up, and he's about to do it too. Unsteady on his feet, like maybe he's drunk, he glances in my direction as I'm shaking my head back and forth, meaning, "No! Please don't come near me." The boy at the urinal is doing pretty much the same thing as me so, with a grunt the drunk kid spares us, takes two steps to the first stall, flings open that lock-less door and there sits Henry Fisher; his pants down around his ankles. Henry's in the process of straining a stool and my very first thought is, What the hell is that fat fuck Fisher doing at a dance?" He wears little oval eye glasses on his flat, fat face. He's about five foot tall and a hundred-eight pounds. Quite a sight, five by five walking down the hall. Not walking anywhere at the moment, and to his credit Henry tries the same pleading head shake that me and the urinal boy used; Henry even got out a weak "no," but it's too little, too late because the drunk boy's committed to hurling up his puke in that toilet and Henry is simply in the way. The ultimate wrong place at the wrong time. We all watch in silent horror, Henry's eyes as big and round as pie plates, as a two inch wide cylinder of yellowish boozy puke leaves the drunk boy's throat and splashes into Henry's forehead. Henry's glasses are pulled off his face by the weight of that revolting mess and land in his lap along with much of that first hurl of vomit. Me and urinal boy head quickly for the door with the disgusting smell of vomit in our wake. The last thing I see before getting out the door is drunk boy's second volley of puke, aimed at the wall of the stall, spattering off the wall all over both of them. Urinal boy and me are barely in the hallway when we hear a distinctly different regurgitation sound. This is undoubtedly Henry's involuntary response to his misfortune. He's throwing up too, and probably aiming his river of vomit at drunk boy's crotch. If it happened to me, thats what I would have done, just before dying. Outside, urinal boy looks at me shaking his head. He says, with a smirk on his face, "That's a shame." then adds, "Awesome! Wasn't it!?" I couldn't help but smile, saying, ironically since I'd done it myself, "What kind of a numb nuts takes a shit in a stall with a broken lock?" We both make a face at each other like, "Oh well, what the fuck, we're good," and we high five, celebrating our good fortune; then both go off looking for our buddies to tell about this once in a lifetime disaster. The first person I see is Kyle. He runs up to me and, before I can say anything, tells me he's worried about Mike who's had too many vodka and orange juice drinks on the way to pick up the twins. Kyle says, "What do you think, Richie? Mike's never been real drunk before. He's outside smoking and the girls are in the dance getting wicked pissed off." Worried, I go, " I don't know what to think, or do for that matter. Take me to him, Kyle, and maybe something will occur to me or you about what to do." We hustle out the side door and around to the common area in back. Mike's sitting there, on the back steps in the dark. Someone has broken the door's overhead light so all we see is the lit tip of Mike's cigarette. Kyle says, "There he is, Richie. Good luck! I'll go back inside and try pacifying the girls somehow." As Kyle jogs off I approach Mike slowly, talking in a casual manner, keeping worry from my voice, "Yo, Mike, what the fuck ya doing out here?" He looks in my direction, and slurs, "Richie? Is that you?" I go, "Ah, yeah... it's me. Whassup?" His reply, "Come over here. Anybody with you?" Taking the last few steps towards him, my eyes adjust to the dark and I can now see Mike's extraordinary face shining in the moon light. He's something special to see alright; sometimes it takes my breath away. Sitting next to him on the step I pat his thigh twice, repeating "Wassup, dude?" and he hugs me around the shoulders, but doesn't say anything. Then he lays his head sideways on my shoulder, takes a drag from his cigarette, and sighs. The bristly hairs on the top of his head tickled along my jaw as I notice Mike's awesome natural scent, along with his booze breath when he exhales. We sit like this for a couple of minutes, then Mike flicks his butt into the night, and I ask him again, "Whatcha doing out here, Mike?". He starts talking nonsense, slurring his words, obviously drunk. I interrupt to ask, "Why'd ya drink so much, Mike?" His answer is long and hard to follow but it has something to do with the fact that his date, Tonya, is too bossy and on top of that she's a "stuck up cunt". Mike says, "Richie, she pisses me off thinking she can tell me what to do. The bitch said I drank too much, and she says I drank because I'm afraid of her, afraid of a real woman she said. Can you believe that shit?" Little by little I get the picture: apparently Mike and Tonya got into an argument, initially about Mike's drinking and who should drive. The compromise was for Kyle to drive Mike's brother's pickup because Mike sure as hell wasn't letting some girl drive it. Then, the fighting continued, but the subject matter changed to who's in charge etc... Mike seems tired, I guess getting drunk can do that. More details pour out of Mike's scrambled brain and I have no way of knowing how slanted his version of what happened is. Things escalated as the argument continued resulting in Tonya and her twin sister stalking off as soon as they arrived at the dance as Mike stumbled around to these steps. Klye came to find the guys and ran into me first. Obviously he plans on turning this problem over to somebody else, in this case me, so he can salvage as much of his date as possible. Guess I can't really blame him. I make noncommittal comments to whatever Mike says and then the conversation turns personal. He's telling me I'm his best buddy ever and he loves the fact we're special, special friends who can give pleasure to each other in ways most guys don't have the guts to try. I swallow hard listening to things I've wanted to hear, but haven't heard Mike say until now. There's a temptation to lead Mike into saying he loves me, but I resist that because I don't know much about being drunk and I'm afraid Mike will remember everything that happens out here and I do not want him thinking I took advantage of him in this weakened condition. I listen and mutter, "Thanks," once in a while at complimentary things he says about me. He continues talking about the two of us for another five minutes or so and, while some of it is gibberish, among other things, he says he really thinks about him and me a lot and he hopes we'll stay together as special best friends the rest of our lives. Yeah... I know, I know! I should be thrilled to hear this, and it is great to hear, but a reality intrudes: when he sobers up and recalls the essence of the things he's said to me tonight he'll be humiliated and then he'll turn it all around making it somehow my fault, and be mad as hell at me. It won't be fair, but it's what I'm afraid will happen. He'll contend that it's my bad influence on him that made him say "all that queer stuff" or something along those lines. Mike probably has just said pretty much exactly how he feels in his heart of hearts, but he's not ready yet to say these things to me; it's the vodka that's loosened his tongue. No matter how much I love hearing Mike say all those things, a feeling of impending doom makes me cut him short by lightening up the mood and giving him an out, saying, "Hey dude, you're so nice to say those things, but I know you're only saying them 'cause you know I like hearing that stuff. You're the best, Mike! Thanks, man!" He looks over frowning, trying to get his mind around what I just said. I quickly add, "Hey, you stay put, have another smoke while I find Kyle and see what we can work out. Everything's cool, but we all still needs a ride home after the dance." Mike's not comprehending everything I'm saying so maybe he won't remember a lot of what he said tonight. He listen to me, still frowning like maybe I'm speaking Greek, then interrupts, saying, "Fuck the dance. I'm gonna sit here and smoke so hurry up and do whatever you just said and hurry the fuck back." Getting up, I pat his shoulder, and say, "Good plan, Mike!" and he goes, "What? Oh, and Richie, see if you can get me another screw driver." Riiiight, I'll get Mike another drink! I find Kyle and tell him to keep the pickup for the night and, "Make up some bull shit about Mike's medication for the stabbing didn't mix with the vodka so he's having this bad reaction. He's sorry and all that, but he's gotta get home. You get both twins home, dude, okay?" It's great by Kyle, he loves this idea of him being with both twins. I round up Tony and together we drag Mike into the SUV and take him to my place. I stay with Mike, naturally, but Tony goes back to the dance because he's almost positive he gonna get in the fat girl's spandex pants. I'm slapping him on the back, going, "Good luck with that" Mike's crashed on our bed and is already sleeping, fully clothed. I take a shower and do all my bathroom stuff, then lay awake in the sleeping bag worrying about what might happen in the morning. That dating thing hadn't worked out too well for Mike and somebody's gonna need to pay for that; I'm still thinking it's most likely gonna be me. Unsuccessfully trying to sleep, I think back over these past months with Mike; seven months now and in some ways it's seems a short time while in other ways it seems like a lifetime. How great, how fulfilled my life has become since meeting him. I understand him; maybe better than anyone else, including his very nice mom, and probably better than he understands himself. He's worked hard at being the image of himself he has in his head; the tough guy... the "Don't fuck with me" guy. Truth is, Mike's basically shy and, believe it or not, lacks self confidence when he's confronted with new situations. I've witnessed that side of his personality... when he moved in with me, for example. Also, maybe he thinks he's too pretty to be the macho guy he envisioned himself to be so he fixes a scowl on his face, plus buzzes that beautiful blond hair of his and wears two, not one, but two earrings, to be different. Then there's the obvious sexual issues; the inner urges he tries to control, but can't. There isn't a shred of doubt in my mind that if I'm gay, Mike is too. I say "If I'm gay" although I'm sure I am; it's just that I still hadn't been sexually aroused by anyone except Mike. I think Mike secretly thinks he's gay and that's why he acts aggressive and mean at times, he's desperately covering up his true feelings. Of course, knowing, or thinking I know something, doesn't mean I know what to do about it. Best idea I come up with, before falling asleep is too hope Mike was so drunk that tomorrow morning he won't remember exactly what he said. In the morning Mike lay in bed silently... I stay put down here in the sleeping bag with my fingers crossed. I'm pretty sure we both dozed back to sleep for a while because the next thing I'm conscious of is Mike flushing the toilet and then stalking back into the bedroom. I make eye contact with him and he's definitely pissed-off. He gives me a hard look, then he looks away and without a word climbs back into bed and turns away from me, facing the wall. I'm guessing the "fingers crossed" hasn't helped: he remembers last night and is reacting, unfortunately, the way I expected. Fuck!! A little later, leaving Mike in bed asleep, I walk over to Kyle's house to get the pickup. The cold air did me some good and I feel pretty good back at the house. Unfortunately, Mike isn't feeling pretty good. As I pace around the house, Mike stays in bed; he stays there until two o'clock in the afternoon. I'm watching the Eagles play the Redskins on TV in the family room when Mike pads into the kitchen. I hear the refrigerator door open and close. He gets himself a large, cold coke and drinks half of it in one long swallow, then drinks the rest along with three Tylenol. He's horribly hung over and when I meekly ask how he feels, without looking at me, he mumbles, "I feel like shit' whaddaya think?" At least he answered me. He stays in bed the rest of the day and only gets up for another large coke; and then later he opened a can of soup and micr-waves it. I didn't try to talk to him, just watch TV and worry. Tony calls and I tell him Mike's just wicked hung over and that I'm staying in today myself. Kyle calls to make sure it was me that got the car and other than that it's quiet. My dad left for work before Mike and I woke up. Around ten at night I go to bed in the sleeping bag again, and that takes care of that day. Damn those adult beverages! Monday we had school, but Mike didn't go. I called him in sick pretended it was my dad calling. When I rushed home after school my worse fear is realized, Mike's gone and so is all his stuff. I call his mother and he answers. He's nice, but lies saying his brother got a job as an assistant ski instructor at a resort in the Poconos. It's seasonal, but his brother needs to live there in a dorm with the other assistant ski instructors. Mike tells me he'd had a talk with my dad while I was at school and thanked him for the hospitality but he needed to stay with his mother now that Danny's gone. What bullshit! My dad told Mike he's welcome back whenever he wants. I say nothing, tears running down my face. Mike says he'll see me in school tomorrow and hangs up... he didn't say thank yo this time either, he didn't say he loved me, he didn't say he'd miss me, he didn't say a lot of things. I hang up the phone and sit at the kitchen table looking out the window at the exact spot across the street where I first met Mike. How happy I was just last week after we all went out to dinner and it was decided Mike would be staying with me at least through the school year. And now, less than a week later he's gone "for the foreseeable future," I try to stop crying 'cause I'm sixteen years old,for Gods sakes, but I cry for quite a long time. Mike's friendly to me in school the next day, but nothing special; it's like all of a sudden I've become just one of his acquaintances. I can understand how someone might think, "Why don't you try talking to Mike about this, about what happened at the dance." I can see that someone might suggest that, but that would have to be a person who doesn't know Mike like I know Mike. My only hope is to outlast him and wait for him to start the conversation that will lead him out of his self imposed exile. Nights are lonely, lonely, lonely. I cry from desire for Mike's touch and I chastise myself for being weak and wimpy, and too emotional; like a girl. I scream at myself that just because I'm in love with a boy I don't need to be like a girl... toughen-up! I lift the weights the way Mike showed me, lift them until I start crying again, then I do the screaming at myself all over again. It sucks! My jerking off returns to pre-Mike levels of stimulation which seems boring and routine compared to the sexual highs I've had with Mike. My life's not as lonely and boring as it was before I met Mike because I have friends now, but it's nothing like it was with Mike fully in my life. I miss him so much, it's all I think about and it's effecting my grades at school. It's so lonely here at the house without him; I've no interest in doing anything except lift weights, and the hell with homework! Time drags by and after three weeks or so I've established a dull routine that gets me through the days, but the nights are still a torture. At night I try not to think of our times together at night, but those sexy memories of Mike and me always drift back into my head and I ache for him. Then, one day out of the blue, Mike walks right up to me at my locker, and says, "Yo, Richie. How ya been, man? I really miss staying with you and I'm hoping you'll let me move back in." Just like that, it's overloading my emotions and I can't remember how to speak so I stare at him with that dumb ass expression on my face that I wish I wouldn't make. Getting no response to his question, and it must have been very hard for him to ask in the first place, Mike, stammers, "Like I said, Richie, jeez, I... that is, ya know, I miss the place and, well, I miss you too, a lot." My eyes are watery and I remember how to say, "Me too," as Mike grins,'cause he knows me as well as I know him. More confidently now, he says, "Mom doesn't really need me there anymore and she kinda suggested I seemed happier when I was, ya know, with you and your dad and all. Whaddaya say?" I'm nodding my head like an idiot, and manage, "You know my answer, Mike." He reaches over tentatively and rubs my arm, I lean into him a little and he smiles into my eyes and squeezes the back of my neck. Then, in a breathless manner, he says, "I'll call ya in a days or two and you can help me move back in. Okay?" I put my hand on his chest just to feel him, and mumble, "Sure, Mike." He nods his head with a little smile on his perfectly shaped lips, and quietly says, "I... ah, thanks," then he hurries away to his next class leaving me dizzy, but relieved and excited, and happy. Taking a deep breath I congratulated myself on doing the right things the night of the dance, and then holding out for Mike to decide when he 's ready to return. I'd resisted the urge I've had to pester or even beg Mike to return, and now he'd done it on his own. After school I walk to Manny's barbershop and get my hair re-cut like Mike's again, and later I have the most wonderful climax jerking off thinking about what a hot time we're going to have the first night Mike's back, and the night after that too. Next morning the sun seemed brighter than it's been for a while now. It shines through my bedroom window and reflects off the new fallen snow. Every day I wake up without Mike next to me has been a sad day, but knowing he's moving back, I'm not sad today. I wake up with a smile on my face, but I still have a job to do for my dad so I hop out of bed, dress, do the bathroom stuff and walk through the snow to the convenience store. There I get the coffee and other stuff my father likes to have waiting for him each morning. It's his turn to work this Saturday at the casino so he'll be up earlier than usual for a weekend. Back at the house I hop back into bed, but after laying there for forty-five minutes it doesn't look like falling asleep is going to happen, so I get up again and wander into the kitchen where my dad's just about ready to take off for work. I tell him Mike's coming back to stay with us and Dad's happy for me, but he already knew Mike was returning as he's been 'seeing' Mike's mother and the two of them discussed it a few times. Hmmm? I'm wondering who knows what, but to hell with that; Mike's coming back, that's all I care about. Dad leaves for work and I drift into the bathroom for a quick shower. As I'm drying off after the shower I hear a loud knocking at the front door. Shit, it's probably the old man forgetting something again. Wrapping a towel around me I hurry over to open the door, but it's not dad. It's Tom Brown... wha the? I've been meaning to offer a sign of friendship for Tom, who's a pompous ass at school, but I'm willing to give him a chance. He's caught me totally off guard though, first that loud knocking, and this is a totally unexpectedness visit, I go, "Um, oh, Tom. What ah..or, that is, I thought it was my dad. Ya know, forgot his keys, or maybe it's...." I bumble-out words in spurts and fits. Tom Brown finally says, "Jesus Christ, Richie, I never know what the fuck you're talking about. I just helped push your old man's car over the snow bank and onto the road and I thought I'd give you a break and stop in to say hello. Hey, dummie, you're suppose to invite a neighbor in out of the freezing cold. Especially one who has just helped your old man get to work. Richie, wake the fuck up! Have some fucking manners!" I go, "Huh?" stepping back and motioned for Tom to come in. It's freezing out there alright, and all I have on is a towel, and not a very large one at that. It barely reaches around me. Holding the towel's ends tightly in my left fist, it still leaves the side of my left leg exposed. I go, "I'll put some clothes on, Tom, and be with ya in just a second." "No, before you do that, Rich, I have a quick question to ask you. And, I believe I already know the answer, but I," he stops in mid-sentence and points at the large take-out coffee I bought for myself when I got dad's stuff. Tom's got his hand on my bare shoulder now, asking, "Hey, wait a minute, is there any coffee left in that take-out cup? I could go for a cup of coffee." He walks into the little kitchen and I followed him, explaining "Yeah, it's full, but it's cold." Tom wants me to heat it up so we can each have a cup, and he's kinda blocking the kitchen door so, what the hell; using my free hand I get two mugs and divide the coffee between the two. Into the microwaved they go as I awkwardly get some milk and sugar out, and a spoon. Tom can see I need to do all this with just one hand, but he doesn't offer to help. Instead, he asks questions about Mike; like, he hadn't seen Mike around here lately and wants to know if he's still staying here, and what's the story with him living here anyway. Stuff like that. I give quick vague answers indicating he's been with his mom for a little bit, but he'll probably be back in a day or so. "Sit down and have some coffee with me, Richie. Fer chrissakes, you're really not into 'manners' all that much, are you? I help your dad get to work and you want to give me the bums rush out of here or something." I go, "Aw no, it's not that... I been meaning to stop down and say hi to you myself; it's just that I'd like to throw some clothes on, ya know? Heh heh." He grabs the arm I'm using to hold my skimpy towel around me and pulls me towards him, saying, "Sit down and drink your coffee, Richie." I go, "Um, I..." and he yells, "Sit the fuck down! Sit down!" I plop right down in the chair next to him, thinking, "Drink some coffee, make nice, and then get dressed. This is an opportunity to get to know Tom." I've already suspected Tom has some bossiness and even bullying in his personality, but he seems to have made friends at school so why not try being one of them. I can't think of anything to say so I take a gulp of my coffee and burn the roof of my mouth; it's way too hot right from the microwave. I yelped spitting the coffee out as Tom stares at me with a wry half smile on his face, which is beginning to make me a little uncomfortable. Maybe it's best that I don't say anything because, as I recall, on the front porch that day, Tom has a way of turning around what I say into something different than I intended. Plus, I've discovered after all these years of life that not saying anything isn't usually a bad idea. Keep myself out of trouble that way. I can't return his stare though, and the silence is getting weird. I try making eye contact one more time but he seems so fucking smug and confident I look down at the table top and squirm in my seat, still grasping the two corners of my towel around my waist with a hand that's cramping up. It's so quiet in here I can hear Tom swallow his coffee, and while it's getting weirder and weirder for me he seem perfectly comfortable in the dead silence, sipping the scalding hot coffee and staring at me. Finally, I can't take it any longer, and ask, "Ah, what was the question you wanted to ask me, Tom?" He goes, "Whaddaya mean?" Conversation at last, so I quickly add, "Ya know, when you first came in, before you saw the coffee container, you said you had a question for me." He snaps his fingers, amazingly loudly, startling me, then says, "Oh yeah, do you have any fetishes?" Just like that; "Do I have any fetishes?" I get my dumb ass expression on my face, eyebrows furrowed, my nose wrinkled, I ask, "Fetishes?" He slurps coffee, then says, "Yeah, fetishes." Hmmm. I'm hesitating because I'm not really sure I know what constitutes a fetish; plus, why in the world would he think I'd have one. I say, "Jeez, I don't know for sure; why do you ask?" He quickly looks up, pulling his head back and making a face like he's astonished I'd need to ask such a thing, then he says, "Well, because you're gay, of course. Many gay guys have fetishes. I have one and I wondered if you did too; that's all. No big fucking deal. Do you, have one?" My mouth moved but nothing was coming out, I'm speechless. Shaking my head, trying to come up with something to say, I blurt out the obvious, "I'm not gay! Why would you think that?" He tells me it was apparent to him from the first day he'd meant Mike and me that we're gay, and what's the big secret anyway. Tom says, "Hell, I just told you I'm gay so you really have no reason to continue this phony crap about not being gay." I start to stand-up, trying for indignant, but he grabs my arm and pulls me back into my seat; strong kid. He's pissed now, "You kill me, Mealey; I've been trying to be friends with you from day one, but you act as if I'm not good enough to hang out with you. What gives? That really hurts my feelings." I'm flabbergasted because he's the snob, not me. I've waved at him or said "hi" to him on the rare occasions I see him at school, but he rarely said 'hello' back. When he's with one of his friends he doesn't even look at me. He's never invited Mike or me to his house. I'm biting my bottom lip, a little pissed, when I say, "You know perfectly well that's not true," and he goes, "What? You're saying I'm not gay? I think I'd know if I'm gay or not!" There he goes distorting what I said; he knows damn well I was referring to what he said about me being a snob, and I tell him so. I exhale exasperatedly, as he says, "Richie, I swear to God, you are impossible to have a conversation with. I never mentioned the word 'snob'. Let me get this straight, and pardon my choice of words here, I don't mean to offend you: If I understand what you're saying, you're admitting that you're gay, but not a snob. Is that about it?" I say "Yeah, except, no... not that part about the snob, or rather ,that's the part I do mean." Tom laughs, and tells me, "I can't imagine there's anybody who knows what you're talking about; I surely don't, but not to worry, I like you anyway." He's exhausting and like Mike said on the porch that time, Tom knows exactly how he's mis-saying things; he's doing it on purpose but he does get me talking in circles. I drink some coffee as he's saying, "As a matter of fact, I not only like you Richie, I've even had a little bit of a crush on you from that first day on your front porch. You have a cute routine going for you, the way you bumble along with things. It's really kinda cute." This is something new, this BS about a crush... he keeps surprising me and changing the subject! I go, "What? What do you mean, a crush? And, I don't bumble, cutely or otherwise!." I"m sputtering now and almost let go of one end of the towel. Without a word, Tom gets up and walks around behind me and before I can do or say anything he hugs me around my neck tightly with his left arm, saying "You're cute as a bug and you do bumble cutely; you're always bumbling cutely," the side of his face is pressed against the side mine; cheek to cheek. My free hand flies up to his wrist trying to loosen his arm from around my neck, gasping, "Tom, what the fuck are you doing?" He talks right into my ear, I can feel his breath on the side of my face as he's saying, "Oh yeah, that's right, you asked me to tell you about my fetish. Thanks for reminding me, Richie." I go, "Huh? No, I meant what the fuck are you doing hugging my neck, I didn't ask anything about your fetish. I don't even know what that is to be honest with ya." Tom chuckled, "No silly boy, hugging you isn't my fetish. You maybe wish it was, but it isn't. I like to spank boys; that's my fetish. Didn't I tell you that earlier." I only got one hand free, but I still struggle in his grip, yelling, "Stop double-talking me and let go of my neck!" He hugs me tighter, rubbing his cheek back and forth against mine, saying, "Oooooh, nice skin. You ever been spanked, Richie? Reason I ask is because you really need a hard bare ass spanking and I just don't believe for a minute Mike's up to the task, so I'm gonna do it for him. What do ya think about that, cutie? Huh?" to be continued.... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com