Micah and Me Copyright© 2014 by Simon Campbell The following is a work of fiction. It contains graphic depictions of consensual sex between an adult male and a teenage boy. It exists for entertainment purposes only. There is a real boy named Micah. I was briefly acquainted with him and his Mother (actually named Kim) a little over two years ago. Liberties were taken with the details of their lives for the sake of the story. Obviously, I changed pertinent details (outside of their first names) to protect their privacy. This story has been percolating in my head since I first laid eyes on this beautiful lad. As much as I would like for the events in this story to be true, they are not. My most sincere apologies for any typos that remain. I have no one to beta read and check my work. Volunteers for early readers are welcome. Please apply at the email address below. Feedback is always welcome. Drop me a note with your thoughts, constructive criticism, or ideas to micah.parker@live.com. Chapter One One of the universal laws of life states that it's rarely good news when your phone rings in the middle of the night. People don't call after the witching hour to tell you you've won the lottery. Of course, the cover of darkness doesn't see just any bad news delivered. No, sir, the dreaded tolling of the bell at all hours usually means one of two things: somebody's either very sick, or very dead. Rousted from my sound sleep, I almost hoped someone had died. Otherwise, I was going to have to kill whoever was on the other end of the line. The cursed cell phone continued ringing, the sound stabbing at my brain like a thousand ice picks. I pawed blindly at the nightstand in the darkness and let out a string of expletives as I nearly sent the phone spiraling to the floor. I quickly recovered and tapped the screen. "Hello," I mumbled while flipping on the lamp and wincing at the sudden brightness. "Simon," a familiar, yet slightly frantic voice began, "its Kim, from next door." Kim Gibbs had been my neighbor for the last five years. She'd moved here with her then nine-year-old son, Micah, after the death of her husband in a work-related accident. As she was around my age (early-forties) we'd become good friends and excellent neighbors. I'd helped her out with simple home repairs and she'd had me over for dinner on more than a few occasions. I'd actually taken care of her yard for the first few years before Micah was old enough to mow the lawn on his own. Now, Micah cut my grass as well, even though I paid him to do so. We were so close, in fact, that Kim had even listed me as an emergency contact at Micah's school. Additionally, she had authorized me to drop him off, and pick him up from school when necessary. I always tried to be there for Micah. Whether it was to toss the football around, or just serve as someone to talk to other than his mother. I hesitate to say I was a surrogate father to him. I preferred thinking of myself as his cool uncle. "What's up, Kim?" "It's my Mom," she replied, trying to fight back tears. "She's had a heart attack. I have to go home for a little while. Can Micah stay with you? He missed so much school earlier this year and I'm afraid for him to miss any more." Micah had been very sick about six months back, and not expected to pull through. Thanks to some excellent care, and in no small part to the power of prayer, he'd made it. "Of course," I said. "When do you need to leave?" She sighed. "Right away, I'm afraid. Is it okay if I bring him over in a few minutes?" "Absolutely. Can I help you do anything?" "You're already doing it." "Okay, see you soon." I hung up the phone and scrambled to get dressed. As soon as I'd deemed myself halfway presentable, I made my way down the hall to the linen closet for some clean sheets and towels to make up the guest room. After changing the bed, and making sure the spare bathroom was reasonably clean, I made my downstairs to the kitchen. Figuring Kim would need some coffee for her trip, I set a pot brewing and fumbled through my cabinet for a thermos. It was no small feat finding it, and I'd only just done so when I heard the doorbell ring. I rushed to the foyer and opened the front door. Poor Kim looked a mess. She'd done her best, but still had that "I've just fallen out of bed" look about her. "Thank you so much," she said as she stepped in the foyer and embraced me. "I'm sorry to be such an imposition." "Not at all," I said, breaking the hug. "You know I don't mind. You okay?" "I'll be better when I get there. I hate being four hours away from my family." She stepped aside and I saw Micah still standing on the front porch. He had a sleepy look on his face and his shoulder-length blond hair was sporting a terminal case of bed head. "Come on in, kid," I said with a grin, "unless you want to sleep out there." He smiled, one of his azure eyes sparkling at me (the other was obscured by a golden patch of hair that hung over part of his face) and stepped inside. He had his school backpack strapped over his shoulders, two plastic grocery bags in one hand – one filled with shoes, socks and underwear; the other with various toiletries – and a plastic hanger with a pair of khakis, dress shirt, and tie hanging on the other. "Hi, Simon," he said with yawn. While I'd never gone to the trouble of pigeonholing myself to a particular sexual orientation or inclination – I'd been with both guys and girls, enjoying each one equally – I can honestly say that I'd never thought of myself as a boy lover. Certainly, I appreciated the beauty in all things, not the least of which the loveliness of adolescent males, but I'd never found myself sexually attracted to one. Apparently, the old saying "never say never" is correct. For some mysterious, unnamed reason, I looked at Micah with new eyes. It was if I'd never seen him before. A lifting of the veil, so to speak. While as before I'd observed an awkward, skinny kid with blue eyes and messy blond hair, now I beheld an adolescent Adonis who I had to have in my bed. It scared the hell out of me. I'd known this kid for five years, and outside of occasionally admiring his shirtless form while he mowed my lawn, I'd never so much as given him a second glance. Now I couldn't help myself. Heaven forgive me, but in that moment, I found myself ogling him. It's a wonder I didn't start panting. I'd like to tell myself it wasn't obvious, but I'd be lying. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, which he'd definitely outgrown. The cotton fabric hugged greedily to his chest (can you blame it?), providing a clear outline of his nipples. The tee rode up ever so slightly at the bottom, revealing an adorable "outie" belly button. Beneath that, he wore a pair of Calvin Klein pajama pants with a blue camouflage pattern. They weren't too small, but tight enough to hint at the glorious treasure that lay beneath them. His feet (bloody hell, even they turned me on!) were clad with a pair of blue flip-flops. "Uncle Simon," Kim corrected. "You know better than that." Broken from my lust-induced trance by Kim's voice, I found myself staring directly at Micah. He was still smiling at me. Then, as if he could psychically divine the one question on my mind (did he notice me checking him out?) he gave me a sly wink. Fortunately, he disguised it with an adorable hair-flip (quite possibly the sexiest damn thing I'd ever seen) so his Mom wouldn't observe it. She didn't, nor did she notice that I turned eight shades of red. I could feel it happening. Micah did notice and grinned even bigger, perfectly executing another hair flip. Hand in the air; I almost jumped him right then. The boy was sex. I can't say if it was the wink, the hair flips, or a combination of both that caused it, but I sprang instant wood. All I can say is thank goodness I was wearing loose-fitting jeans and a long, baggy t-shirt! Kim sighed. "I swear, Micah, you're going to get whiplash with all those hair flips. I wish you'd get a haircut." She reached over to brush the hair from his eyes, but he backed away as if her hand was leprous. "Mooooooom," he whined in protest. My inner voice spoke loud and clear: Don't cut the hair! Don't ever cut the hair! At least I hoped it was my inner voice. Wait a minute. When did I become such a girl? "Yeah, Mooooooom," I replied with a grin. "Leave the kid alone about his hair. And you know I hate it when he calls me 'uncle'. It makes me feel old." She threw her hands up in surrender. I turned back to Micah. "Why don't you take your stuff upstairs to the guestroom? You know where it is." Oh, how I wanted to tell him to take it to my room! He nodded and turned to walk up the stairs. I swear on all that his holy I couldn't help but watch him as he did. My eyes started at his feet, straight up his long, slender legs, and fixed on his pert, blue camo-covered ass. Once again, the pajama pants weren't too small, but they did a great job at hinting at what was underneath. Just as I thought I'd gotten away with ogling him again, he turned, looked down from the landing, and locked onto my stare. He smiled devilishly before disappearing down the hall. Thank heaven Kim's head was with her Mom four hours away, because she was oblivious to it all. "Thanks again, Simon. You don't know how much this means to me." And you don't know how much I want to bone your kid! "It's no big deal," I replied. "You know how I feel about Micah." Actually, she didn't. Neither had I, in all fairness, until just a few minutes ago. What was up with that, anyway? Maybe this wasn't such a great plan after all. "I know, but still," she said. "Not another word about it. Now come into the kitchen. The coffee should be finished brewing." We chatted briefly about how to deal with aging parents who lived far away while I transferred the piping hot coffee to the thermos. It sucked, we both agreed. She lamented the long drive at night and I cautioned her to be careful. "Do you have any cash on you?" I asked. She shook her head. "I'll just stop by the ATM on my way to the Interstate." "No," I objected, "absolutely not." I reached behind me and fished my wallet from my jeans. "No, Simon, I couldn't." "You can and you will." I opened the wallet and pulled out all the cash – seven twenties and a couple of tens. "I'll be worried enough with you out there on the road at night by yourself. Don't add to my anxiety by stopping at an ATM. Use what you need and bring back the rest. You can pay me back later." She laughed and tucked the money into the front pocket of her jeans. "I should be giving you money. You're looking after my kid! You're so infuriating sometimes." "I know," I said, putting an arm around her, "it's my job. And don't you even think of not using that money." "Okay, Dad," she said in a mocking tone, pushing away from my embrace. "Geez!" Kim and I had a good relationship. A number of our friends kept inquiring why we'd never gotten together. The truth was we were far more comfortable being friends. We rarely dated, and neither of us was looking for a relationship. Besides, we both preferred the brother/sister dynamic we had going. Why screw up a good thing? I handed Kim the thermos and we made our way back to the foyer. "Micah has enough clothes for school tomorrow, but we didn't have time to pull everything together. Please go over to the house with him tomorrow and see that he packs enough, will you?" "Of course." "Do you still have your key?" "Yep. Micah has one, too?" "He does. I want him over here with you, okay? If he spends any time in that house by himself, he'll do nothing but play video games. Don't let him bring his gaming system over here! Oh, gosh, you don't have a gaming system, do you?" I shook my head and tried not to laugh at her last-minute hysterics. "You'll make sure he gets to school on time? He has to be there by eight-thirty. I'm sure you remember where the school is. You'll make sure he does his homework. And that he eats?" I held up my hand. "Kim! Chill! I got this. I was taking care of younger siblings long before Micah was born and I've taken care of him before, too. You can rest easy." "I know," she said, still flustered. "I just want to make sure I don't forget anything." I held out my hand and used my fingers to count off the list. "Get Micah up in time for school. Get Micah to school. Get Micah some clothes. Get Micah to eat and do his homework." Get into Micah's pants. Get Micah off as much as possible. What the hell was wrong with me? "Last, but not least, no video games under penalty of death. I assume, since they weren't on the forbidden list, that recreational drug use, high-priced hookers, and Satan worship are perfectly acceptable activities?" She busted out laughing. "Smart aleck. You're worse than my brother, I swear." "You need help packing the car?" "No, Micah took care of that." She turned and looked up the stairs. "Micah, I'm leaving." "Oh, I just happened to think," I said. "Do you have plenty of gas in your car?" "Yeah, I filled up on my way home from work yesterday. That should be enough to get me there." I nodded. "Okay, don't stop anywhere unless you have to, and only in a well-lit place." "It's my turn to say 'I got this.'" We laughed and embraced again just as Micah came barreling down the stairs. "Bye, Mom," he said as he collided with the two of us, wrapping his arms around our waists. "Love you." "I love you, too. You behave, okay?" She pulled away from us and opened the front door. As she stepped onto the porch, I couldn't help but notice Micah still had his arm wrapped around me. "I'll be good, Mom," Micah said. "I promise." On the word promise, I felt Micah's hand move slowly down to my ass and give it a squeeze. I sprang wood again. "Bye," Kim said as she turned and walked down the sidewalk, oblivious to the fact that her fourteen-year-old son was groping his babysitter. "I’ll call when I get there." I waited until her car was backing down the driveway before I closed and locked the door. Feeling Micah's hand still firmly planted on my ass, I turned to face him. He was looking up at me, sporting a wicked grin. Not knowing what to do or say, and not really wanting him to remove his hand from my backside, I did nothing as a seemingly eternal moment of silence passed between us. Where his body touched mine, a sensation of white-hot electrical current scorched directly into me, zipped through my central nervous system, and straight into my cock, which bulged so intensely I was afraid it would bust right through the denim. If Micah's free hand made a move in the general direction of my crotch, I'd blow my load clear across the street. This little minx seemed to know what he was doing to me, and was fine with drawing out the torture as long as he could. Our eyes locked in a penetrating stare, the two of us engaged in a battle of the wills, each one silently daring the other to make the first move. Micah, however, held the winning hand – in addition to my butt – and he knew it. He was in complete control. At that moment, I would have done anything he wanted. Had he asked me to kill my own mother, I might have actually done it. I would've given him the world if only for another seconds glance into those eyes. He owned me. Signed, sealed, delivered, I was his. And he bloody well knew it. He broke the silence. "I lied to Mom, you know." If I answered him at all, I wasn't aware of it. I was lost in his eyes. He negotiated a gold medal-winning hair flip, winked at me again, and gave my ass a hard smack. "I'm not going to be good." He removed his arm from my waist and turned toward the stairs. "Nope," he said, as began to climb. "Not one little bit." Paralyzed with a toxic combination of lust and fear, I could do nothing but stand there (with what I'm sure was the silliest of grins on my face) and watch him ascend the stairs (to heaven?). My eyes fell upon his bare feet, moved up his thin, perfect legs, and rested on an ass that would make straight men weep. I wanted to weep myself! Micah stopped at the top and turned to face me, the warm glow of the ceiling fixture formed a perfect corona around his head. He was more beautiful than any actual angel had a right to be. Speak to me, I thought. Speak to me, my angel. He let out a boyish-sounding giggle as he negotiated yet another hair flip. "Geez, Simon," he said. "Put your tongue back in your mouth." I quickly broke out of my trance as he disappeared down the upstairs hallway. I was finally able to take a breath. My heart pounded inside my chest as my poor balls ached to release their burden. Never in my life had I needed to come so badly. Since I really didn't want to shoot in my pants, I rushed to the bathroom. Saying to hell with privacy, not caring who saw or heard me, I frantically unzipped my jeans and yanked down my boxer briefs. I'd no sooner whipped out my cock that I shot six or seven creamy loads of spunk into the toilet bowl. I wasn't quiet about it either. Micah had  most certainly heard my scream of release and was probably laughing about it. He knew he was responsible for driving me to the brink of sexual insanity and he'd gladly do it again. The leash he'd lassoed around my cock had only begun to tighten. I didn't care. As long as I shot my next load on his face, in his mouth, or in his ass, I'd gladly hang by the neck on the gallows from that leash. My mistake, however, was thinking I had any control over this situation. To tell the truth, I was in way over my head. Next time, on Micah and Me... "Fuck me," I said aloud not as a request, but as a way of expressing my disbelief. I'd never been one to hurl the f-bomb around, but this wasn’t just any occasion. On a lighter note, my guesstimate of his cock size was spot on. He giggled. "Sounds tempting, but I was hoping it'd be the other way around." My life had gone from completely normal to FUBAR in less than an hour. "Not tonight, though," he continued. "I've got school tomorrow." "Yeah, me too," I said, finally managing to overt my eyes from his raging boyhood. "I mean—yeah. I should really get to bed." "Definitely," he said. "You don't look so good." I don't feel so good either. "Good night," I said, turning toward the door. "Good night, Simon," he replied. "Oh wait, don't forget these." Sweet mother, what now? Remember, your comments are appreciated. Drop me a line at micah.parker@live.com to let me know what you think.