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 (Kim) a little over two years ago. Liberties were taken with the details of their lives for the sake of the story and to protect their privacy. As much as I would like the events in this story to be true, they are not. Thanks to my intrepid beta readers (M & T) for their editing skills and invaluable suggestions. Please show Nifty some love with a generous donation. Feedback is always welcome. Drop me a note with your thoughts, constructive criticism, or ideas to micah.parker@live.com. The more you write, the more I'll write. ;) I'm also on AIM/MSN (micah.parker@live.com), Google Talk (simonwritesgood@gmail.com), and Yahoo! Messenger (ridethaskater). Author's Note: Thanks to some great advice from one of my early readers, I did some minor revisions to Chapter Three. As a result, the teaser snippet at the end of Chapter Two no longer correctly reflects the actual version of the story. I believe the changes enhanced the story and made it more true to the characters. My apologies for the inconsistencies. Previously... My cock erupted like a massive volcano, shooting load after load of jizz into the black cotton. The boy's hand didn't let up. It moved up and down at the speed of light, milking my shaft and sending almost painful waves of ecstasy through my body. I felt my hips continue to buck upwards into his hand, even though doing so increased the pain. He stopped pumping and, using his thumb, teased my cock head through the fabric. If you've tried to touch this area after an orgasm, you know the intense painful pleasure I'm talking about. It's torture. "Stop," I begged, struggling for breath and trying not to squirm. "Fucking...stop." "Watch your language. A dirty mouth like that will never suck my dick." "Please stop." He teased me for a few more seconds, and then squeezed my shaft one last time, milking the last drop of sperm before he stopped. As if to torture me a few seconds more, he made a production of wiping my cock clean before pulling my briefs away. "That was fun," he said. The mattress shifted again and I gasped as I felt him straddle my midsection. "What the—" I said, opening my eyes and raising my head, causing his undies to fall from my face and onto my chest. Chapter Three He was on his knees, resting his sweet ass on my pelvis. His dick still stood at attention. I desperately wanted to grab hold of it and return the favor. My eyes drifted up his torso and to his face. He didn't notice me looking at first; he was too busy staring at my cock, like he knew what to do, but then again wasn't sure. "No, don't look!" he exclaimed. He was holding my sticky-with-come briefs in his left hand. With his right, he reached up and grabbed his undies from my chest. "Close your eyes," he said pleadingly. "What? Why?" He giggled nervously, a slight pink in his cheeks. "I—I don't want you to watch." I nodded and closed my eyes, leaving them open just enough to watch him. Satisfied he wasn't being observed, he draped his shaft with his briefs and looked down at the globs of come I'd shot into my own. "You came really hard. I must really turn you on." He looked at me. "Do I turn you on?" "Yeah," I said. He smiled and pressed his tongue to the sticky fabric, giving it a taste. After a second or two of consideration, he gave them another lick. His face didn't wrinkle into revulsion, so I assumed he liked it. He tried it one more time, and then dropped my briefs off to the side. His right hand began jacking his dick through his shorts. He closed his eyes and increased his rhythm. Had it even been remotely possible, I would've shot a third time. After two hard orgasms, however, I doubted very seriously that it was in the cards. It was the hottest thing I'd ever seen. My cock got hard again. I felt it poke against the smooth skin of his ass crack, ever so close to the Promised Land. He was so damn sexy. All I wanted to do was to touch him. I reached my hands out and placed them on the insides of his milky white thighs. "Hands off, Mister," he said, teasingly. "I didn't say you could touch." I pulled my hands away. "That's better," he said.   I could do nothing but gaze longingly as he pleasured himself. Had I woken up to find this to all have been a dream, I would have seriously been pissed. "Oh, fuck!" he shouted. He arched his back. I watched his body convulse, shaken by the throes of a massive orgasm. With every jolt, his weight pressed against me. Micah tugged at his cock with primal fury. When he finally stopped shaking, he fell forward on top of me, panting heavily. "Damn, that was hot," he said after a moment, raising himself up. I opened my eyes fully. "Now who needs to watch their language?" "Shush!" Micah gave his cock another squeeze and pulled his underwear away from it. One small drop of spunk remained on the head. He scooped it up with his finger, leaned forward, and thrust that finger towards my face. "Do you wanna lick it off?" I willingly took it into my mouth and sucked with passion, willing it to be his slender cock. As if wishing made it so, I went to town, all the while staring into those sexy blue eyes. He offered his approval with a nod and a smile. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, as if considering something. His mouth formed into another mischievous grin. "You want to eat it, don't you?" he held up his come-filled shorts. I nodded. "Say please," he taunted. "Please." He giggled. "Okay, stick out your tongue." I complied. He pressed the briefs against it and I licked his spunk greedily. Nectar of the gods. He pulled his undies away and climbed over me and off the bed. "I'd love to stay and have some more fun," he said, walking toward the door, "but I'm tired. You kept me up too late. If I fall asleep in class it's going to be your fault." With that, he turned off the light, shut the door, and left me in the darkness. I laid there in silence, undies still pressed to my face, for several minutes. Now that I was alone, the tsunami of guilt came crashing back. What the hell was I doing? Having always considered myself a person of sound judgment and reasonable intelligence, I had to ask myself if I'd suffered an acute attack of stupid. I ripped his shorts from my face and tossed them to the floor. Thus began the strangest back-and-forth conversation I've ever had inside my mind. My sub-conscious began to battle itself, not at all unlike the proverbial angel and devil sitting atop alternate shoulders, each one whispering into an ear. He's fourteen, for shit's sake! Fourteen! Yeah, fourteen going on forty. He instigated this whole thing. You never touched him. No, he wouldn't let me. You didn't touch him. No, wait! I did touch him. Okay, so you touched him. What's the big deal? All he has to do is tell one person and it's all over. Do you really think he's going to tell? He might. He seduced you, remember? Why would he go to all that trouble just so he could turn you in? I don't know. Maybe he didn't know what he was doing. Really? You really don't think he knew. The kid played you like a fiddle. That he did. What was up with that? Since when do you roll over and take it from some little bitch? This isn't just any little bitch. Answer the question! Why'd you roll over? I don't—I don't know. I was afraid, I guess. I thought if I let him take charge, then— Then what? It would be all on him. That it would absolve me of any guilt. How'd that work out for you? Shut up and let me sleep! A quick glance at the clock revealed it to be four-thirty. Kim had only left us alone a little over ninety minutes ago. That's how little time it had taken for my life to fall apart. I should have stopped him. You couldn't have stopped him, stupid. Nobody could've stopped him. Who could say no? Besides, that kid did nothing he didn't want to do. Maybe. Maybe nothing! He used seduction methods that would put even the most seasoned seductress to shame! But— Let's recap. He grabbed – and smacked – your ass. He stripped down to nothing right in front of you. He gave you his bloody underwear! You don't think he knew exactly what he was doing? Okay, he did. He did, and so did you. You enjoyed every minute of it. He used you like a weak little nancy-boy and you enjoyed it. I did. You wanted it to happen, but you were too afraid to do anything about it. He wanted it to happen, too. The only difference is he wanted you to take charge. When you wussed out, he took the lead and he made it happen. You can forget about absolving yourself of any guilt. So what now? You want him; he wants you. See where it leads. Seriously? Seriously! This has gone too far to turn back now. As long as you're balls deep in the situation, you might as well be balls deep in him. Don’t start! Another orgasm might just kill me! As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder if that might not be such a bad thing. Kim called three hours later to tell me she'd arrived and her mom was still in serious condition. If she even realized that I sounded like a zombie, she didn't let on. We spoke briefly until she said she had to go and speak with one of the nurses. She'd check back in later. I could hear the shower running in the guest bathroom, so I knew Micah had made it up for school. This was quite unusual for your typical teenager. I had envisioned having to throw a bucket of ice water on him to wake him up. As I stepped out of the bed, my foot landed on his damp undies, an all-too-serious reminder of our recent activities. I picked them up and tossed them into the hamper. There was no need thinking about that right now. Since I wanted to be completely dressed before I saw Micah, I needed to make quick work of cleaning myself up. It was quite a surprise when I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I'd gone to sleep with nothing on, a rarity for me. There was still the faint taste of jizz in my mouth, so I made sure I used a little extra toothpaste on the brush and used a little more mouthwash than usual. As I gargled, I observed my body in the mirror. I certainly wasn't a bad looking guy. I wasn't in perfect shape, but thanks to my slightly above average height I looked okay. I'd once had someone refer to me as a bear, so I guess that pretty much sums things up. I was just moderately hairy – not a total wookie – with no facial hair. My cut cock was six inches fully erect and moderately thick. Appearance wise, I would never win any awards, but I wasn't scaring children or old people on the street. Not bad, I thought, spitting out the mouthwash. It was a mystery, however, just what a hot piece of ass like Micah saw in me. Then again, the last guy I'd fucked had been nineteen and hot, and he'd been all over me. Perhaps I shouldn't sell myself short and just enjoy the attention where I could find it. Stop obsessing. Get cleaned up. Twenty minutes later, I was shaved, clean, and dressed in my normal work uniform – jeans and a t-shirt. Being a full-time writer definitely had its benefits. I wasn't wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but I'd been fortunate enough to have some moderate success self-publishing my horror novels. I would never be Stephen King, but it paid the mortgage, kept the lights on, and put some food in my mouth. More importantly, I was happy. Happiness trumped riches any day in my view. I had worked very hard to get where I was. It had taken me two years of late nights to write my first book, back when I was holding down an actual nine-to-five job at a local accounting firm. After shopping the completed work around to dozens of publishers, I finally decided to do it myself. It paid off. The book was an overnight success, landing number one on several eBook bestsellers lists. While the money didn't roll in (it mainly just stumbled its way) I realized I might be able to make a go of it. In a radical move that shocked family and friends alike, I put in my notice and became a full-time author. Two books and three years later, I was living comfortably. I even had an agent shopping my first book back around. Several publishers were interested in a re-release, and another wanted to take a look at my current project. Speaking of that current project, there wasn't one. There was an outline, but nothing more was written. I had work to do. My daily goal was to write four to six hours. On a productive day, I could crank out one to two thousand words. Some days, however, as was the case recently, I didn't write anything at all. If I was going to buck that trend, I needed to do some serious, hardcore writing. For that to happen, I had to get my little distraction off to school and out of my hair. Of course, that presented another problem. What the hell was I supposed to say to him? I wasn't even sure if I could face him again, after what happened. It was going to be awkward, but I had to do it. Don't say anything about it. Act as if nothing happened. Play it cool. Yeah. Easier said than done. This really needed to be a drama-free morning. Upon stepping into the hallway, I noticed the door to the guestroom was open. Micah was talking to himself inside. "Shit!" he said quietly. "Micah, are you dressed?" I asked, not wanting another surprise like the one I walked into earlier. "Yeah," he said with a loud sigh. I stepped into the room and found him standing in front of the mirror mounted above the dresser. He had on a white dress shirt (with the school's logo) and khaki pants – his school uniform. It was difficult not to notice how cute his little butt looked in those pants, but I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead. He was struggling with his tie. I'd had a devil of a time teaching him. I thought he'd mastered it. "Problems?" I asked. "Stupid fucking tie!" "Hey," I said, lightly smacking the back of his head. "Watch your language." He shrugged, unknotting the tie and handing it to me. "Sorry. Can you help?" "Sure," I said, stepping up behind him. "I thought you had this down pat." He shrugged again. "Okay, watch." With my arms around him, I slowly worked my magic with the tie. He watched me intently. "See? Not hard at all." "Yeah," he said with a smile, locking eyes with my reflection in the mirror. "Thanks." A moment passed between us before I felt him lean back against me. I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and never let him go. But I had work to do and he had school. "All right," I said, mussing his hair and gently pushing him away. "Let's get you out of here." He turned around and I found he had a wounded puppy look on his face. "I don't want to go to school." He thrust himself forward and wrapped his arms around me. The top his head was level with my neck. I could smell his shampoo. "I want to stay home with you," he added, looking up to me with those eyes. For good measure, he planted his hands on my ass and squeezed. "Think of all the fun we could have." I couldn't stop thinking about it. That was the problem. Well, it was one of the problems. There were so many things wrong with this situation that I didn't know where to begin. Now was not the time. The only thing I could do was to take charge of the situation. As gently as I could, I pushed him away from me. From the look on his face, it was apparent he felt rejected. It was heartbreaking. "Oh geez," I said. "Please don't look at me like that." I swear his lip began to quiver. How Kim ever said no to him was amazing. After a moment of silence, he said, "Don't you like me?" "What?" I replied, taken aback. "Of course, I like you. Wow!" My hand went to my head, rubbing what little hair a close buzz cut allowed. This thing between us, whatever the hell it was, was spinning out of control. Somehow, I had to get a handle on it. The future all hinged on what I said next. How ironic that a writer was having difficulty coming up with the right words? "Micah, buddy, listen to me," I said, for no other reason than to stall for time. I desperately tried to read his expression. It was halfway between bursting into tears and telling me to fuck off. Then again, it wasn't totally outside the realm of possibility that he could do both. "I like you, okay? The problem is I'm finding I might like you a little too much." That drew a small smile. "What happened earlier—" I began. The smile grew. "Well, I don't know what to say about what happened earlier." "You liked it?" A nervous laugh escaped me. Not that I meant to laugh, but I couldn't help myself. "Yeah," I nodded, adding a smile. "I liked it a lot." "Me, too." "Here's the thing, kid. As much as I liked that, and rest assured we're going to have a long talk about it later, I like you" – I emphasized the point by touching my index finger to his chest – "a whole lot more. What that means, my friend, is that you need to get your ass to school. Because as much as I like you, and your mom, I'm not afraid of you like I am her. She put me in charge of your lazy butt and she will skin me alive if you miss a day of school on my watch. Understand?" He nodded. "Good man," I said, mussing his hair again. "Hey!" he yelled, giggling. "Get your stuff together. We need to go or we'll be late." Remember, your comments are appreciated. The more notes I receive, the more I'm inclined to keep writing. Drop me a line at micah.parker@live.com to let me know what you think. Many thanks to those who've written so far.