| 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 (and Parker, too!). 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 mad 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: Just like Nifty can't survive without your donations, Nifty Authors can't survive without your feedback. If you're enjoying my little tale, please drop me a note and let me know (even if you've written before). You wouldn't believe how encouraging it is to hear from my readers. It won't cost you a penny, and it just might make my day. I'll keep writing if you do. ;) Chapter Five When Micah returned after his shower, with his gym bag full of clothes, extra school uniforms, and soiled bedding in tow, I very nearly broke my 'homework before fun' rule. He had dressed, apparently, to either persuade me to break said rule, or to kill me. I'd seen Micah in his school uniform, his pajamas, and, as he was dressed now, in his civvies, all before. But this time it was as if I was looking at a brand new person. Extremely odd is the only way to describe what it's like to look at the same person for years without so much more than a casual glance, and then look at them as an object of desire. I led me to wonder, had life proceeded as normal, if Kim had never brought him over this morning, would I still be looking at him with new eyes today? What was it about having seen this gawky, awkward teenager, with his bed head hair and blue camo PJs that had almost instantaneously transformed me into a boy lover? Or had I just always been this way and living in a state of denial? Then again, what did it really matter anymore? His choice of ensemble wasn't all that special, to be honest, but on him? Well, two words come to mind: have mercy. He'd chosen a blue Adventure Time t-shirt, which featured Finn & Jake performing a fist bump. Underneath were the words, 'What Time Is It? Adventure Time!' The shirt hugged him in all the right places and just barely reached to his waist. If he moved just so, you could see a lovely slice of milky white tummy. As much as it makes me sound like a big girl, the shirt really brought out the color in his eyes. I expected the immediate revocation of my man card any day for even thinking that. Keeping with the theme, he had on a pair of Adventure Time boxer-briefs. The black waistband said so and below that were multiple Finns & Jakes printed on a light blue cloud/sky background. The jeans he wore – black, low-riding skinnies that left nothing to the imagination – were what made his underwear so identifiable. So tight were these pants that you could actually see the impression of the bottom of his undies through them, which is how I knew they were boxer-briefs. It amazed me to think he'd actually gotten them on in the first place. And excited me with the prospect that I might help remove them later! His sexy-as-hell feet were clad only with a pair of blue flip-flops. Many choose to deride flip-flops as a fashion choice, but they're pretty much a staple in our warm climate from early spring to late fall. I really didn't care because it afforded me the opportunity to see more of his bare skin. His beautiful blond hair was freshly washed and as perfectly coiffed as his shaggy mop could be. Of course, the shock that hung over his right eye was there, ensuring there'd be hair flips-a-plenty this night to make my heart go pitter-pat. "Holy shit!" was all I could say when he walked through the front door, the lyrics of a Dolly Parton song immediately springing to mind. Why'd you come in here lookin' like that? I knew why. He was trying to break my resolve. He wanted to have his fun without working for it. And while it had almost worked, I'm proud to say I stood my ground. For a little while, anyway. "What's the matter, Simon?" he asked, shutting the front door behind him and trying to give me his best innocent look. "You're evil," I replied, taking the bedding from him and tossing it over by the laundry room door. "You're rotten to the core and you don't play fair." He set down his gym bag and hung the hanger containing the uniforms on the doorknob. Then, he walked over directly in front of me, stood on his toes, and kissed my neck. Damn, he smelled nice. Whether it was body spray or cologne, I wasn't sure, but the scent was definitely from somebody's 'come fuck me' collection. Then again, it could have just been the teenage boy pheromones. "I don't know what you're talking about, Simon," he said, pulling away from me. "I think you're imagining things." "Uh-huh. Take your stuff upstairs and let's go." He retrieved his bag and uniforms and brushed past me toward the stairs. I had to watch, of course, because I was dying to see his ass in those jeans. Amazing. Simply amazing. The pants hung low enough that they accentuated his pert backside, the two perfectly-shaped Finn & Jake covered cheeks bulging out the top of them. I wanted to smack that fine butt. I wanted to bend him over and— "Oops," he said, dropping the gym bag. He bent over at the waist and thrust his ass up in the air. How those jeans didn't rip right open, I'll never know. "I dropped my bag." He picked it up, stood erect, and walked up the stairs. When he reached the landing, he glanced down, catching me watching him once again, and offered a self-satisfied smirk before disappearing down the hallway. The little boy slut had known I'd be watching and had beaten me once again. I was either being played by a pro, or outwitted by a gifted amateur, but I definitely had my work cut out for me with this one. When he didn't come back down right away, I looked up the stairs. "Micah," I called, "let's go!" He emerged from the upstairs hallway and descended the stairs. "Here I am," he said, snuggling up close to me. I sighed. "I know what you're trying to do." "Really," he said, standing on his toes and kissing my neck again. "What's that?" Damn, it felt good. My cock apparently agreed. "You're trying to skip dinner," I said, "and go straight for dessert." He ever so gently began nibbling my neck. His hand moved to my crotch and began massaging my cock through my jeans. "Nuh-uh," he whispered between nibbles. Shit, this little minx is going to kill me! "I wouldn't do that," he added. "I know who's in charge and you very clearly said homework before fun." "That's right," I said, completely flummoxed and determined not to break my resolve. "So I promise," he said, giving my cock a hard squeeze, "to finish my homework before we have any fun." He moved his hand away from my crotch, stopped his assault on my neck, and looked up at me with those enchanting eyes of his. Just to add insult to injury, he flipped his hair again. Somewhere, a straight boy was weeping. "That's right," I managed. Yeah, you've got him right where you want him. Shut up! Micah grinned and said something under his breath. "What was that?" I asked. "I said, 'you'll cave.'" I eyed him suspiciously. What was he playing at? "And what do you mean by that?" "I'm willing to bet that I can get you to change your mind." "About no fun before homework?" "Yep." I had to admit, the idea was intriguing. Considering how I'd maintained such little control up to now, however, it was probably a stupid bet to take. Then again, it might be fun. Getting each other off was most likely on the agenda anyway, so why not? It wasn't as if a lot was at stake. "What are your terms?" I asked. "Keep in mind, however, that you do your homework tonight regardless of who wins the bet." "Fine, meanie britches," he replied. "Okay, the terms are this. If you win, I'll mow your lawn free of charge for a month. When – sorry, if I win, you pay me double for the next four weeks." I thought about it. I really didn't have a problem paying him the extra money, so this was all about the bragging rights. Other than feeling a little humiliation – and Micah never letting me live it down – what did I have to lose?" "Alright," I answered, "but I'm setting some ground rules. First, no more Mr. Grabby Hands tonight. Keep them to yourself. Second, no kissing my neck, because that's just dirty pool. Finally, you can't do anything overt in public that could get us – or more importantly, me – arrested. Agreed?" "Fair enough," he said. My longtime friend, Luca, just happened to own my favorite restaurant in town. That came in handy, because I could usually get a table on a busy night. Luca's whole family worked there and we received a warm greeting upon our arrival. After introducing Micah as my nephew – most of my siblings lived out-of-state, so no one would be the wiser – the hostess, Luca's daughter, Ryan, led us to my 'usual' table, a small private booth tucked away in a dark corner. I couldn't help but notice the number of lascivious looks Micah received from some of the older male patrons (and a few of the younger ones) as we walked to our table. My boy was a hit, and I was most likely the object of envy, even though it wasn't exactly clear we were together. "I've never eaten here before," Micah said, looking over the menu. "We don't really eat out a lot." "It's a nice place," I said. "I've known the guy who owns it since high school." "Wooly Mammoth High? Class of 10,000 BC?" I glared at him. He flipped his hair. And so the seduction begins. "You'd better behave," I cautioned him. "What? You were the one that said you were 'way older.'" "Yeah, but we rode buses to school, not dinosaurs!" He held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry," he said with a smirk, still studying the menu. "See anything interesting?" He pondered the choices for a couple of minutes. "I think I'll just have a cheeseburger." "You can have whatever you want, ya know," I reminded him, rolling my eyes. "And I want a cheeseburger." "Fine," I replied, not wanting to argue. As I placed my own menu on the table, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I glanced over and noticed someone, most likely our server, approaching our table. The restaurant was rather dark, so I wasn't able to make out their face until they were almost upon us. "Oh, shit," I said. "Shit, shit, shit!" "What?" Micah replied. "Nothing! Shh!" The server arrived at our table "Hi, I'm Kaz, I'll be taking care—" he stopped, recognizing me. "Hey, Simon! What's up, brah?" "Kaz. Hi," I said, wanting to crawl under the table. "What a surprise." "Yeah, really, brah," Kaz replied. "I haven't seen you in a few weeks." Please kill me. Kill me now. "Sorry about that, Kaz," I said uncomfortably. "Been kinda busy." I glanced over at Micah, who had the biggest shit-eating grin I'd ever seen on his face. He knew. Kaz was the other guy in Micah's little home movie. "That's okay, brah. I've been busy, too. I got a job!" "I see that," I said, willing myself to disappear. "Congratulations." "Thanks, brah," Kaz replied. "Oh, sorry. I should take your drink order, huh?" "Yeah," I said, "I'll just have water, no lemon." "H2O, got it." Kaz turned to Micah. "And for you, little brah?" I could tell from the look on Micah's face that he wanted to say something sarcastic. I gave him a warning glance with my eyes and received a smirk in return. There was an awkward pause while he decided what to do. Finally, he said, "Coke, please." "Awesome," Kaz replied. "I'll be right back with those drinks." "Thanks, Kaz," Micah said, giving me a look. As soon as Kaz was out of earshot, Micah said, kind of sing-songy, "Awkward." "Just a little bit, yeah." Micah laughed. "Where'd you meet him? I'm guessing not the library." "Does it matter?" "No, but I'm pretty sure you never actually had a conversation with him." "In my defense, I was lonely and horny and not at all interested in conversation." "Obviously," Micah said, rolling his eyes. "What's with the 'brah' thing?" "He moved here from California to go to school." "Lemme guess: med school, right?" He giggled, which I normally found adorable. Now, it was just annoying. "We didn't exactly trade life stories," I replied. "You be nice." "I'm always nice." "Micah, so help me, if you embarrass me—" "I wouldn't think of embarrassing you," he said in a tone that implied he very well would. "That is—" I frowned. "That is, what?" "Well, the way I see it, I wanna win our bet, and you don't want me to embarrass you." "That's blackmail." "I don't know the legal term," he replied. "Wait! I bet Kaz does. He's pre-law, right?" "Micah—" He smiled. "It's very simple. You flake out on the bet, making me the winner, and I won't completely embarrass you in front of Malibu Ken." I shook my head. "Forget it! No way! I'm not letting you win." Micah's smile grew devious. "Okay, your choice." "Micah," I warned. "Shh," he said, motioning with his thumb. "Here he comes." Kaz approached the table and set down our drinks. "Agua for you, brah," he said to me, "and a soda for the little brah." "Thank you, Kaz," Micah said, all sweet and innocent. "You're welcome, little brah." "So, Kaz," Micah began as I took a drink of my water, "you look kinda familiar. Haven't I seen you in a movie?" I swallowed the water all wrong and began to cough. Micah just grinned and flipped his hair at me. Little bastard. "You alright, brah?" Kaz asked. The coughing subsided. "Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, giving Micah a death stare. "Maybe you should just take our order now." "Alright," Kaz said. "For you, little brah?" "Cheeseburger, medium well, with cheddar cheese, and a side of fries." "Yah, you got it. And you, brah?" "Grilled salmon with rice and steamed—" I felt Micah's bare foot begin to massage my crotch under the table. When I turned my glance to him, he was taking a sip of his Coke and pretending to be interested in a picture that hung on the wall. My cock responded as you might expect. I knew then why he'd worn the flip-flops. I'm gonna kill him! "—veggies," I managed to finish. "And a house salad with—" I grunted, "—honey mustard dressing." "Okay," Kaz said, eyeing me strangely. "I'll put that in for you and bring out your salad." As soon as he was far enough away, I said, "I swear, Micah, I'm going to drive you out to the middle of nowhere and leave you for dead." I reached down and pushed his foot away. "What?" he asked, trying to look innocent. "What did I do?" "Besides embarrassing me?" He flipped his hair again. "I warned you, Simon." "You little—" I stopped, something suddenly occurring to me. "Hey! You just lost the bet." "I'm afraid not." "But you—" I began, pointing to my lap. He shook his head. "Your exact words were, 'No more Mr. Grabby Hands tonight. Keep them to yourself.'" Shit. The little bugger had gotten me on a technicality. I had apparently met my match. "That's so not fair," I said. "Not my fault," he replied, his bare foot finding my crotch again. "See? No hands," he said, holding his up. I was not now, nor had I ever been, a foot person, but even I had to admit this was terribly sexy. The boy did have some incredibly beautiful feet. Glancing down at his left foot as it toyed with my rock-hard erection, all I could think about was taking those toes in my mouth and sucking them. Wait! Stop! What are you doing? Snapping out of my fantasy, I reached down and pushed his foot away. "Stop it," I said. He offered me another wicked grin. "Flake on the bet, Simon. I haven't even got started yet." I eyed him suspiciously. He was bluffing, right? Surely, he was bluffing. He's not bluffing, and don't call me 'Shirley.' "You're bluffing," I said. He shook his head. "Nope." "I'm not letting you win." "Okay," he said, "it's your funeral." I glanced over and saw Kaz returning with my salad and a basket of bread. As he set them down on the table, Micah began to speak. "But you can't just leave me, Dad," he said, his voice taking on a sad, desperate tone. "I just found you and now you want to leave." I swear there might've been actual tears in his eyes! Kaz stared uncomfortably at Micah, and then at me. "I didn't know you had a kid, brah." A glance at Micah revealed an obvious 'I told you so' expression. It instantly switched from that back to sad orphan boy. If this were a movie, we'd be talking Oscar. Micah turned his attention to Kaz. "Simon knocked up my Mom and left her right before I was born." I shit you not; the tears were actually flowing now. Kaz looked at me as if I'd just kicked a puppy. "Brah, that's harsh." "I didn't—" I tried to say. "He's not my—" "Don't lie, Dad," Micah said. He shifted his gaze back to Kaz and continued his story. "Mom had no money so she had to go to work with a traveling carnival. She went into labor with me one night while she was working as a fortuneteller. I was born right there in the carnival, delivered by the Bearded Lady and Jacko the Wolf Boy." The story, of course, was ridiculous, but the masterful way in which he told it almost had me believing him. Kaz, however, seemed to be buying it completely. What can I say? I hadn't fucked him because he was smart. "Then what happened?" he asked. "I was raised in the carnival," Micah continued, obviously enjoying himself, "never knowing who my real dad was. My fathers were drunk carnies who were kind enough to help my mom take care of me. I lived in broken down RVs and traveled from city to city. I never even went to a real school!" "He goes to a private school, Kaz," I interjected. "I’m not his dad!" "Stop saying that!" Micah said. "I have nowhere else to go!" Another patron caught Kaz's attention. He put his hand on Micah's shoulder and gave him a comforting smile. "Stay strong, little brah." He glared at me as he walked away. "What the hell are you doing?" I asked Micah. "Winning our bet." "How did you even come up with that story?" "It was a skit me and my acting partner did in drama class. We have a kick-ass drama program." "Of course, you do," I replied, rolling my eyes. The kid was something else. There he sat, a self-satisfied look on his face, prepared to do anything to win the bet. I had to admit, I was impressed. "Give up yet?" Micah asked. "Why should I?" "Because the story's not over – I haven't even gotten to the best part. The Fat Lady falls on my mom, who then reveals as she's dying that you're my real father. The carnies then chip in and hire an attorney, who forces you to take a DNA test." I busted out laughing. I had to hand it to him. He was good. He was very good. If he was willing to go this far just to have a little 'fun' with me, who was I to deny him? "Alright, fine," I said. "You win, but only because I don't want to end up on a 'who's your daddy' episode of some sleazy talk show." "Ha!" Micah said triumphantly. "I knew you'd cave." "Yeah, whatever. But you need to tell Kaz the truth." "Okay," he relented. "But what the hell kind of name is Kaz anyway?" It was doubtful that Kaz believed Micah after being told it was all a joke. If the bewildered look on his face wasn't enough, the fact that he brought Micah a free dessert after dinner and said he was sorry for the loss of his mother, sealed it. He also gave me a disgusted look when he returned my credit card and told me I should be ashamed of myself. I tried further explaining that Micah was actually my next-door neighbor, but Kaz just didn't seem to want to hear it. Despite that, I left him a rather generous tip with the hope it might make him forget that I was shirking my parental responsibility. After dinner, and a trip to the grocery store, we were on our way home. It was actually a very pleasant drive. Micah instigated the holding of hands and I relented, rather enjoying the intimacy after being without it for so long. Even with Micah's embarrassing story at the restaurant, the evening had been perfect. So perfect, in fact, that I was rapidly moving beyond mere friendship and sexual attraction, and in real danger of falling in love. While that scared the hell out of me, I was determined not to let it freak me out. I just wanted to enjoy the euphoria for a little while. The irony was not lost on me that I had just warned Micah about us never being able to have a real relationship, and here I was tossing about the L-word with reckless abandon after only one evening. Yeah, I realized it was hypocritical, not to mention pretty damn stupid, but what could I say? It's been said you can't help who you fall in love with. I don't know if that's true, but that's what I was going with. That way, if things went south, I would have something other than myself to blame for the heartbreak that was bound to follow. Our joking and laughter at the evening's events eventually subsided and we rode the rest of the way home in silence. Just the fact that we were together was enough. We had no real need for words. As we pulled into my garage, the automatic door rumbling closed behind us, I acted on impulse. I raised Micah's hand to my mouth and gently kissed the back of it. I'm not sure why, but it felt right in the moment. "Thank you for tonight," I said. "That's the most fun I've had with anyone in a very long time." I glanced over at him. He was blushing and biting his bottom lip. "More fun than you had with Kaz?" he asked after a moment, flipping his hair. I laughed. "Yeah, way more. Not only are you cuter than him, and smarter, you're a much better kisser." He beamed, as if that was the best compliment he'd ever been paid. I squeezed his hand. "We'd better get the groceries in." It hadn't occurred to me until we started unloading that I'd bought at least twice the amount of food I normally would have. All teenage boys eat their weight every day, right? I'd told Micah, as we walked into the store, to pick out whatever he wanted. Based on the items he'd thrown in the cart, my guess was he was taking advantage of my temporary insanity by choosing all the things his mother would never let him have. I really didn't care. I'd most likely have bought him a Porsche if he'd only flipped his hair while asking for it. After about ten minutes, we had everything unloaded and put away. There was an awkward silence as the two of us stood together in the kitchen. One would think, considering how intimate we'd been over the last eighteen hours that we'd be beyond such moments. However, I think it only compounded the awkwardness. For my part, I almost felt like a teenager again, navigating those uncharted waters of dating protocol. Should I make a move? Should I not make a move? We weren't dating, mind you, but it was still a little weird. The situation was made all the more strange because Micah actually was a teenager. He seemed to look at me as the one who should know what to do. Truth be told, I hadn't really had that much experience at this, and I was just as flummoxed as he was. Just throw him up on the kitchen counter and fuck his brains out! Yeah, that's romantic. You know you want to. What I want to do, and what I should do, are two very different things. Pussy! Stop it! Pussy, pussy, pussy! "Enough!" I shouted. Micah jumped. "What the hell, Simon?" I laughed nervously. "I'm sorry. I—" He studied my face intently. "You're all tweaked about this again, aren't you?" "What? No!" I said, to which he responded with a 'yeah, right' look. "Well, maybe a little." "Geez, Simon. You're such a pain." He pushed me back against the refrigerator and closed the distance between us, standing so close I could smell his shampoo. "You really need to relax, dude." He stood up on his toes and began kissing my neck, just as he'd done earlier. Homina, homina, homina! Each kiss sent a little jolt of electricity surging through my body. For the umpteenth time that day, this boy had me aroused. My cock felt hard enough to cut through steel. It led me to wonder if this was what one of those medicinally enhanced, four-hour erections I should consult a physician about felt like. While my combined sexual experiences brought me nowhere close to the manwhore status Micah jokingly claimed I'd achieved, I'd been with enough partners to know that no one had ever turned me on as he could. He was by far the sexiest, most sensual person I'd ever met. Micah did things to me, made me feel things I never had before. The lovely assault on my neck ceased as Micah stood flat-footed again. The kisses, however, continued as he moved his mouth across my chest. I felt his hands on my ass, kneading my cheeks with his fingers. His hands moved slowly around my waist and to my crotch. I let out a moan as I felt his hand envelop my bulge. I glanced down and watched the top of his head as he slowly descended before me. He looked up and smiled as his knees touched the floor, giving my dick another good squeeze. "Damn, Simon," he said. "Happy to see me?" I simply nodded and offered what was most probably the goofiest smile to ever appear on anyone's face. My brain was too addled to signal my mouth to form anything resembling coherent speech. He simply giggled, apparently greatly amused at the state he'd brought me to. His hands went to work undoing my belt. Unlike the clumsy way I'd gone about removing his clothes earlier, he moved steadily and expertly with the precision and skill of a gifted surgeon. Before I knew it, my jeans were undone and down around my ankles, leaving me clothed only in blue boxer-briefs and a t-shirt. Micah stared intently at my bulge, as a military strategist might study a terrain map to formulate a plan of attack. He glanced up at me one last time with sexy blue eyes and smiled wickedly. Then, he opened his mouth, moved his head forward, and his sweet lips connected with the cloth-covered head of my cock. Bloody hell! My head jerked back sharply and connected with the fridge door. It hurt a little, but I hardly noticed. The boy's work on my shaft was overloading my brain with too many pleasure signals to be troubled by some minor pain. Micah reached up and grabbed the waistband of my undies. I looked down just in time to see my dick flop out. "Shit," he said with a giggle. "You're like almost twice as big as Parker." He flipped his hair and then took me into his mouth. The second his lips wrapped around my shaft, I felt myself go weak in the knees. I reached around to grab hold of something to keep myself from falling and my hand connected with the side of the fridge. Its slippery surface provided no hold and I encountered a brief moment of panic before my hand latched onto the counter with a death grip, saving me from an embarrassing tumble. Once sure of secured footing, I turned my attention back to Micah's expert working of my cock. This boy knew how to suck. His experiences with his cousin had obviously served him well, and I made a mental reminder to send Parker a thank you note for subjecting himself to what must have been a grueling ordeal serving as a test subject. I hoped for Micah's sake that Parker was just half as skilled as his talented cousin was. "Fuck, Micah," I moaned. It strangely occurred to me in that moment that I'd most likely used that word more in the last day than I had in my entire life. Sometimes, however, no other word would do. "Fuuuccckkk!" His tongue danced skillfully around the head, sending waves of pleasure straight through me. As he began to move back and forth on my dick, my free hand grabbed a clump of his hair and my hips began to thrust in rhythm with him. "Mmm," he cooed. The boy obviously enjoyed having his hot little mouth fucked. I never would have figured Micah for a cock slut, but he had mad skills and wasn't afraid to show them off. "Oh, yeah," I said. He increased his speed, pistoning his head back and forth, from side to side. The louder I moaned, the more effort he put into pleasuring me, never letting up for a second. I'd received my small share of blowjobs from both men and women over the years, but none compared to this one. This kid could make a living at it. A damn fine living indeed. "Oh, god, Micah," I yelled. "Oh, fuck!" He ramped up his oral assault on my dick, moving his head faster and faster. Instinctively, my hips bucked wildly in concert, desperate to fuck the boy's face as voraciously as possible. My heart pounded in my chest; I had to remind myself to breathe. I briefly had a flash of Micah on all fours in front of me, my cock plundering his sweet ass. And that was all she wrote, friends and neighbors. With a loud moan – and quite possibly a shout of 'hallelujah!' – I erupted into Micah's mouth with an orgasm so intense seismic sensors on the other side of the country most likely recorded a tremor. My body trembled as I unleashed load after load. I had to steady myself again as my legs were turning to jelly. To the boy's credit, he took most of it without even gagging. Some dribbled out his mouth, down his chin, and onto the floor. He slowed his back and forth motion and backed off my shaft, leaving only the head in his mouth. He reached up with his hand and milked the last bit of seed from it. I released my grip on his hair and gently brushed that adorable shock away from his face. He glanced up at me as I did and smiled, his lips still wrapped around my dick. "Damn!" I said, trying to catch my breath. "That was—amazing!" He moved away from me and stood to his feet, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm. He grinned at me and flipped his hair. "Well, Parker's never complained," he said proudly. "I should say not. He'd be crazy if he did. If he gives head like that, you're a lucky man indeed." He laughed. "He's nowhere near as good as me," he said without a touch of humility, "but he's hot, so I don't mind him practicing on me." I tried to fight off the visual. Even though my spent cock was becoming limp as a noodle, thoughts like that would firm it up again quite quickly. "I bet not," I said, leaning over to pull my pants back up. As I did, I noticed a small puddle of my spilled come on the linoleum. "Geez, I made a mess." "You came like a motherfucker." I shook my head. There was no use chastising him about his language. "Did I manage to get any in your mouth?" He smacked his lips. "Yes. You taste different than Parker." "Better?" I asked, buttoning my jeans and pulling up the zipper. He cocked his head to one side. "Not better, just different." I walked over to the sink and grabbed a dishtowel. As I turned on the tap to dampen it, I said, "You keep talking about this Parker." I turned off the faucet and rung out the towel. "When do I get to see a picture?" "Oh, hold on." He reached into the pocket of his jeans to fish out his phone. His pants were tight and the phone appeared like a small brick through the denim. How'd he'd ever gotten the phone in there was incredible enough, but to get it out? I cleaned up my mess as he retrieved his cell, and made a mental note to take the soiled towel straight to the laundry room. It wouldn't do to dry clean dishes with it. Micah pulled the cell free and began tapping and swiping at the screen. "Here you go," he finally said, handing me the phone. The boy in the picture looked to be of slightly smaller stature than Micah. His hair was blond, but a shade darker than his cousin's, and he had brown eyes instead of blue. He wore a black Gibson guitar t-shirt and had a sweet smile on his face. "Hot, huh?" Micah asked. He was indeed, but I didn't want to appear to make a big deal of it. "He's okay, but nowhere near as hot as you," I replied. This was the truth, but a purely political answer. A lie of omission was still a lie, but there was no way I was letting on just how hot I thought Parker was. "You're a terrible liar, Simon," he said with a laugh, jerking the phone away. "First, he's way hotter than me, and, second, you've got that look." Stupid, perceptive little punk! "I don't have a look!" He nodded. "Yeah, right, and you weren't checking me out this morning, or scoping out the dudes at my school." Geez! There's was no way to win. "Fine," I conceded. "What do you want me to say?" "The truth." I sighed heavily. "Okay, Parker's hot – though not as hot as you – and I wouldn't mind him practicing on me either." "I knew it!" he said triumphantly. He added, "Perv!" Shaking my head, I lightly smacked the side of his. I really couldn't get over this boy. It was going to be next to impossible to keep from falling in love with him. Actually, I was afraid it might already be too late. All day long I'd been sitting in the front seat of the roller coaster, my arms extended high above me, the car slowly click-clacking its way up the first hill. I was approaching the top, and any second now the coaster would crest that hill and shoot down the other side, taking my stomach (and my heart) with it. Bloody hell. Bloody fucking hell. In forty-two years, I'd never fallen in love. Crushes, sure, and I'd fallen in lust numerous times, but never love. I'd even begun to think I was immune, which was actually okay with me. Being in love was a complicated, messy business. It affected your judgment, screwed with your emotions, and opened you up to having your heart broken and your spirit crushed. Who the hell had time for that? That was me, Mr. Immune. No, it won't ever happen to me. I'm far too enlightened a being to get caught up in all that silly love crap! Yet, here I was, at high risk of falling in love. And to top it all off, I'd chosen a hot, sexy-as-hell, premium, Grade A cut of jailbait beef as my potential first. Could I pick 'em or could I pick 'em? What is it those thrillseekers are fond of saying? Go big, or go home. Yeah, I'd gone big all right. Yay me. Nice move, dumbass! Shut up! You don't have to love him to fuck him, ya know? Maybe I want more than just a fuck. From him? You said it yourself – you can't have a real relationship. Just fuck him and save yourself the complications. For once, I can't argue. You can't just fuck him though, can you? No, not him. Not without feeling anything. He's just another piece of ass. An illegal piece of ass, but a piece of ass just the same. He's not. He's different…special. Dude, you don't have to worry about falling in love. I don't? Nope, you're already there. Shit! The whole arguing with myself thing was getting pretty old. It made me feel as if I were losing whatever perilously loose grip I still had on my sanity. That's why I was extremely grateful for the distraction when Micah's cellphone rang. He was still holding it from when he'd shown me Parker's picture and jumped a little at the sound. He glanced at the screen to see who was calling. "It's Mom," he said, tapping the screen. "Hi, Mom." He immediately frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" There was a long pause as Micah listened. "No, that's fine. I understand. I love you, too. Hold on." He handed me the phone. "She wants to talk to you. Grandma died." "Kim, I'm so sorry," I said. She sort of unloaded on me. Between her sobs, she relayed the story of how all had been well until late in the day. Her mother had taken a turn for the worse and finally succumbed about a half hour before she called. I listened intently as she spoke and offered a few comforting words. "Do you want me to drive Micah up there?" I asked her. "No, he really can't miss school. And he wasn't as close to my parents as he was to his dad's." "I certainly don't mind," I replied. "I know you don't and I appreciate it. I’m already asking too much." "Not at all." "Simon, I'm sorry, but I may have to be here a little longer than I had intended. Dad can't stay by himself, so we'll need to make some arrangements for after the funeral. I may be a couple of weeks." While I felt terrible for Kim, I had to admit that I relished the idea of having Micah all to myself for a little while. I was surprised that it no longer made me feel guilty. Well, not as guilty anyway. "Take all the time you need," I told her. "We're good here." She sighed and got all weepy again. "Thanks, Simon. I'll keep you updated." "Okay, Kim. Take care." I ended the call and handed the phone back to Micah. "You okay not going to the funeral?" He gave me small smile. "Yeah, I guess. I think I feel worse for Mom than I do about Grandma. I mean, I'm sorry she's gone and all, but I didn't really know her that well." I stepped forward, took him in my arms, and gently kissed the top of his head. "I understand. I'm here if you want to talk about it." "Thanks," he said, returning the hug. "I guess I should get started on my homework." "Good idea," I said, breaking our embrace. "I think your backpack is still in the truck. You can work at the kitchen table. I'll be around if you need me." "Okay," he said. As Micah made his way to the garage to retrieve his backpack, I retreated to my study. I was dead tired and wanted to sleep, but I had a feeling that sleep wouldn't come easy that night. Sitting down at my desk, I opened my laptop and found the same blank Word document from earlier staring back at me. Trying not to stare at the mocking blink of the cursor, my thoughts shifted back to the events of the day, wishing I could place them within a context in which they all made sense. Coming up with nothing, I did the only thing I knew to do when I was trying to sort things out. Something I hadn't done in quite awhile. I started to write. This is not the end. There's more Micah and Me coming your way in two weeks! 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. |