Micah and Me Copyright© 2014, 2015 by Simon Campbell The following is a work of fiction and is not based on true events. It contains graphic depictions of consensual sex between an adult male and two teenage boys. It exists for entertainment purposes only and should not be construed as a primer for acceptable behavior. Please show Nifty some love with a generous donation. Feedback is always welcome. You can reach me at micah.parker@live.com. Author's Note: The final chapter ended up being crazy long, so it's been split up into the three smaller chapters. Chapter Ten Parker's mom had said she would pick him up mid-afternoon on Sunday, so when we awoke at eight o'clock, the assumption was there would be plenty of time for more play. The three of us enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of waffles (yes, I'd found the waffle iron) and the two boys chose to ride their skateboards outside while I wrote for a little while. Laura spoiled our half-day's worth of fun when she called around ten to say she'd be there at eleven to pick up her son. Micah's cousin pouted when he realized there'd be no time for what he called a 'proper send off'. "Aww, man," he'd said. "I wanted you both to fuck me again." To be honest, I wouldn't have minded another go at him. I'd enjoyed my time inside Parker and the boy had proven to have a preternatural talent as a bottom, remarkable for someone only thirteen years of age. On the bright side, I looked forward to having an entire day with Micah. I just hoped his promise from yesterday was still good so that I would get the chance to make love to the boy of my dreams. With precious little playtime available to us, Micah and I came up with our own consolation prize for Parker. The two of us sucked him off, a slow and torturous routine in which one of us would bring him to the brink of orgasm. Once there, we'd let him cool down for a few moments before the other would take over. It became like a game, to see how long we could keep him going, but still bring him to climax before his mom arrived. The knowledge that she might arrive at any second provided an additional element of excitement and naughtiness to the whole endeavor. We cut it close too. Parker came like gangbusters just as his mom rang the doorbell downstairs. "Fuck," Park shouted when he unloaded. "Fuck is right," I said in response to the doorbell. "Your mom's here." I rose up, rolled off the bed, and savored one last look as my lover milked the jizz from his cousin's dick. "You guys make yourselves presentable while I answer the door." I headed out of the bedroom and into the hallway. "And don't be too long!" I rushed down the stairs, trying desperately to wipe the 'I just had your son's dick in my mouth' look from my face. While I wasn't exactly sure what that expression might look like, I imagined it somewhere between 'shit-eating grin' and 'the cat that ate the canary.' As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I did my best to void my face of all emotion. When I noticed Park's things organized next to the door, I was glad we'd thought to gather it all together beforehand. I had never been terribly confident in my poker face, but I did what I could to throw it on as I pulled open the door. I hoped to heaven I didn't have a tell. Did I look guilty? I didn't really feel guilty – well, maybe a little guilty – but did I look it? There was also the matter of the massive erection that was tenting my jeans. I hoped Parker's mom wouldn't notice that. Speaking of looks, the one on Laura's face was somewhere between surprise and puzzlement. I'm not sure what that was about, so I just threw on my best 'Why no, I didn't just fuck your son. Why do you ask?' smile and greeted her warmly. "Hi, Laura, did you have a good time?" "Sorry, Simon," she said with a chuckle. "I half-expected the house to be a smoking ruin. If you'll just give me a list of the damages, I'll be glad to cut you a check." I laughed. "Totally not necessary. As miscreants go, he wasn't much of a bother. I enjoyed having him." Oh, you had him all right! Quiet, you! "Really?" she asked as if she didn't believe me. "We haven't been invited back to many places." "Nonsense," I countered, wondering what worse behavior the little hellion might have exhibited elsewhere to find a place on some universal naughty list. "He was no trouble at all. Actually, he's welcome back any time." She apparently wasn't buying it. "We are talking about Parker, right? My son?" I smiled. "Yes. While I wouldn't say he was a perfect gentleman, there were very few problems. We all had a great time." "Wow," she said, still incredulous. "Nothing was broken? No fires started?" – Wait...fires? Really? Was she kidding? – "No small countries were overthrown?" "No on all counts. I didn't even have to taze him." "Huh," she replied, not entirely convinced, but cautiously optimistic. She was about to speak again when she was interrupted by the sound of the boys thundering down the stairs, both giggling as if they shared a powerful secret. Which, of course, they did, but was it a secret they both could keep? "Hi, Mom," Parker said cheerfully as he walked over and gave her a hug. Laura was genuinely surprised. "Hi, Park. Did you have a good time?" "Yes, Ma'am," he replied. "Not that I'm complaining," Laura began, "but who are you and what have you done with my son?" Parker giggled. "See?" I said, "Just yesterday you were threatening to sell him to the circus." "Yeah," Laura replied. "What a difference a day makes." What a difference getting his ass plowed made! Shush! No talk of ass plowing in front of the parental unit. You should start a service for hot, troubled boys. Fuck the delinquent right out of them. Yeah, that would go over well. Great business opportunity if the writing gig ever falls through. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's illegal. I'm just trying to help, Simon. You're actually no help, but thanks for playing. We have some lovely parting gifts for you and a home version of our game. You're an asshole. Well, you're me, so that makes you an asshole, too. Oh, yeah. Carry on. That's it! No more conversations with myself! I suddenly realized everyone was staring at me. Was it my turn to speak? Crap. "Laura, I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of telling Park he's welcome to call me if he ever needs to talk about, you know, guy stuff." She smiled. "Not at all. That's actually very kind of you." "I also loaned him a few Stephen King books. I hope that's okay." She mussed Parker's hair. It's worth noting that he didn't flinch away as he'd done the day before. "I wish he wouldn't read that stuff, but at least he's reading." She turned to her son. "Well, Park, I guess we'd better go. What do you say to Simon?" Parker pulled away from his mom and stepped forward. I was surprised when he gave me a quick hug. "Thanks, Simon," he said as he pulled away, "for everything." I smiled awkwardly and hazarded a glance at Laura. She looked surprised, but not suspicious. I hadn't expected him to show me any sort of affection in front of his mother. I didn't mind, of course, but it just caught me off guard. The little guy was full of surprises. "You're welcome, Parker," I replied, turning to Micah. "Why don't you help your cousin with his stuff?" "Okay, Simon," Micah replied, grabbing Park's duffel. "Come on, assface," Parker said, picking up his skateboard and plastic grocery sack of the books I'd loaned him. Then, realizing what he'd said, paused. "Sorry, Mom." They scurried off toward a blue, tired-looking Honda Civic, leaving Laura and me to say our good-byes. Laura smiled. "Thank you, Simon. I was thinking on the drive over that it was terribly presumptuous of me to ask you to look after Parker." "Oh, stop," I said. "It was no trouble." "Well, I can't say I'm not glad I did it. I really needed the break and it looks like Park's time with you paid off. I don't know what you did, but I appreciate it." Anal penetration. That's what he did. Shut up! Tell her to buy the kid a dildo and shove it up his ass the next time he acts up. That's it. I'm finding a new subconscious. You're so fired. "It's a trade secret." "Fine," she said with a smile. "Just know that I'm grateful." "It's no problem. And know that I was serious about him calling me if he needs to talk. Micah told me a little about Park's dad, so it occurred to me there might be some things he'd like to talk to a guy about." The boys returned from the car. Parker retook his place next to his mom; Micah stood at my side. I almost put my arm around him, but quickly thought better of it. No point in rocking the boat. "Thanks, Simon," Laura said. "Say 'goodbye,' Parker." "Goodbye, Parker," he said with a smirk. Laura laughed. "And the smart ass son returns." "Bye, Park," Micah said. "Bye, Aunt Laura." "Bye, sweetie." "Goodbye, Parker," I told him. "Don't forget what I said. Call anytime." He nodded. Both he and his mom turned and walked toward their car. Micah and I stepped back into the foyer and he shut the door behind us. He stared up at me with a lustful gaze. "I thought they'd never leave," he said, stepping forward. He reached up, placed his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me down toward him. Our lips met and we shared a long, passionate kiss. As our tongues danced together, I could feel myself boning up. Micah turned me on to no end, but now was not the time. I hated that it wasn't, cursed the fact that I could not just simply give in to my baser instincts, and take this boy upstairs and make love to him all day long. Unfortunately, someone had to show some responsibility, and since I was the only actual adult, that duty belonged to me. The boy had yard work to do and his mom knew it. If she came home to find it not done, she would wonder why. While that in no way would confirm what we'd actually been up to, it would at the very least get him into trouble for shirking his responsibility. I, myself, had to finish some laundry and writing those chapters. It sucked, but there we were, with adult obligations staring us in the face. Between pouting in my room and dealing with the boys yesterday, I'd put off what needed to be done and that simply couldn't happen today. I fucking hated being the adult. I gently broke our kiss and nudged him away. Micah pouted. "Why'd you stop?" "We both have stuff to do, buddy." "Aww, man!" "Don't 'Aww, man,' me. You still have two lawns to mow and I need to work. I let myself be distracted yesterday with you and your cousin and got behind. I have three chapters due tomorrow and I'm only about halfway there." Micah smiled and grabbed my denim-covered cock. "Admit it, you enjoyed being distracted. All work and no play makes Simon a dull boy...and Micah a horny one." I pushed his hand away. "Be that as it may, there was too much play yesterday. Today we have to work. When the work is done, we can play." He flashed me the puppy dog eyes. Effective, but I refused to cave. "Nice try, Punky, but it's not going to work. Now get upstairs and change into something more appropriate for yard work. And don't forget the sunscreen." Micah had extremely fair skin. He'd forgotten the sunscreen one day last summer and received a nasty burn for his trouble. "You're mean," he said, trying to frown but failing miserably. I could see very well the traces of the smile he was trying to hide. His poker face was at times unreliable. He knew very well what needed to be done, but was trying to get out of it by playing the 'cute and wounded' card. I wasn't having any of it. "Yes, Punky, I'm a horrible ogre for making the two of us live up to our obligations. I should be stoned in the town square for inflicting such cruel and unusual punishment." "I'll throw the first rock, Shrek," he said with a smirk, something he'd picked up from his cousin. I laughed. "You'd better get that fine ass of yours up those stairs before I spank it raw." "Kinky," he said with a snicker. He turned around and started toward the stairwell. I reached out and gave him a good pop on his skinny-jean-covered butt. "Ooo!" he said in surprise. "Thank you, Sir, may I have another?" I took a step towards him and he scurried, quick as a bunny, up the steps, giggling as he went. "Yeah," I called after him, "you'd better run!" "Asshole," he said through the giggles. "I love you too," I shouted up at him. "I know," he replied as he hit the landing and disappeared down the upstairs hallway. As I walked toward the laundry room, I smiled as I thought about how bat shit crazy in love with him I was. I had always wondered what it might feel like to be so far gone over another person that you became stupid. That's how I felt. It's what my grandmother had called 'taking leave of your senses.' Love caused you to do that, but I didn't really care. It didn't matter if it made me stupid, or crazy, because it was the greatest feeling in the world, especially considering he loved me back. I wonder if he feels crazy and stupid. Most likely not. He'd been handling this whole situation far better than I had. It seemed that I was the adult in age only. Micah was wise beyond the twenty-eight years that separated us, and acted as if none of this troubled him in the least. I'm sure he knew the chances of this thing between us lasting were slim, but he was more than willing to take the chance. He'd jumped into the deep end of the pool, not knowing how to swim. He was treading water just fine. He was the Obi-Wan Kenobi to my Luke Skywalker, the Master Po to my Grasshopper. He was my better in more ways than I could count and I didn't even come close to deserving him. Nope. You certainly don't. I know. Isn't that what I just said? Sure. I just felt the need to remind you. Thanks a pant-load. Upon entering the laundry room, I noticed that Micah's bedclothes – the ones we'd soiled with his seed on Friday night and put into the wash yesterday – were neatly folded and stacked on top of the dryer. Even the fitted sheet, which I was convinced one could only fold through the aid of witchcraft. This was more of my boy's handiwork, no doubt. He'd obviously done this during the time I'd spent holed off in my room the previous afternoon. He could handle laundry and kept his room, and bathroom, as neat as a pin. If I found out he could cook, I might never let him leave. After throwing some whites into the washing machine and leaving it to do its thing, I went to the study to work. I had to finish today or Jake would give me hell tomorrow. He was not someone you wanted on your case, especially when there was money involved. Though I occasionally resented him for doing so, it was good that he pushed me. He was an excellent agent (and friend), and though I knew he was also looking out for himself, he did have my best interests at heart. As he was fond of saying, 'the more money you make, the more money I make.' I didn't begrudge him his percentage because he had always done right by me. This new contract was a game changer for me and he'd negotiated it. My continued success was his continued success. It would work out well for the both of us. I'd worked hard to get to this point and Jake wanted to make sure that effort paid off. Once in the study, I fired up my laptop and grabbed myself a bottle of water from the mini-fridge that sat next to my desk. I opened it and took a sip as I tried to get back into the writing zone. That was always the hardest thing for me, to start the flow of words again after stepping away for any amount of time. Whether it took a few minutes to get there, or a few hours, I was always at the mercy of the muse. There were times it cooperated and times it didn't. I was in desperate need for some cooperation today. After re-reading the few paragraphs above where I'd left off, the words began to flow. The wonderful click-clack of the keys was music to my ears. This is what it was all about; this is what I was born to do. I never felt more comfortable in my own skin than when I was writing. It was a part of me, my one and only talent. Some people sang; some people played music. I wrote. It's what I was born to do. It's just too bad that I'd waited so late in life to do it seriously. I'd been writing at a solid clip for about ten minutes when Micah's voice interrupted me. "Simon? Where are you?" It humorously reminded of that moment in the movie version of The Shining when Jack is working on his play and his wife, Wendy, commits the mortal sin of interrupting him. Of course, I could never really be angry with Micah, and I certainly had no plans to go whacko and chase him through the house with an axe. However, I couldn't help but be reminded of that iconic scene. "I'm in the study, Punky." I continued with my typing until I realized he was standing in the doorway. I looked up and felt my eyes go wide. He wore nothing but a pair of white basketball shorts (which hung dangerously low on his waist), ankle socks, sunglasses, and a beat up pair of sneakers. This was his go-to outfit for yard work. I approved. He smiled at my reaction as he walked over to my side of the desk. "Sorry to interrupt." Thinking back to the aforementioned scene from The Shining, I decided to have some fun with him. "Wendy," I said in my best Jack Nicholson impression, "let me explain something to you. Whenever you come in here and interrupt me, you're breaking my concentration. You're distracting me. And it will then take me time to get back to where I was." He looked at me as if I was nuts. I kept forgetting the number of years between us. "Never mind," I said. "You know you don't ever have to apologize for interrupting me." I couldn't help but stare at his bare torso. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him. He wasn't exactly muscular, which was okay with me, but no one could argue that he wasn't in good shape. His brown nipples, erect in the cool of the conditioned air, stood out prominently against his milky-white skin. His tummy, where there was not a hair in sight, was as flat as a board, making his adorable 'outie' more noticeable. Below his navel (and a lovely patch of bare flesh), much further south than some might be comfortable with, was the waistband of his shorts. Just like the skinny jeans he'd worn earlier, I didn't know what could possibly be holding them up. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't complaining, but holy cow. They appeared perilously close to falling right off of him. The shorts hung to just above his knees, revealing the lower three-quarters of his alluringly long legs. The boy was all leg, and I longed to have them wrapped around my waist as I made love to him, which I hoped would be soon. How anyone could look at a boy like this and say he wasn't sexy was completely beyond me. Boys could be beautiful, and my boy was. "Put your tongue back in your mouth," he said with a giggle. "You can't possibly complain about people gawking at you when you're looking like that." He shook his head. "Not complaining. I like it when you look at me like that. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna give you shit about it though." "What do you want, smart ass?" Micah extended his right hand, which held a bottle of sunscreen. "Rub this on me?" "You want me to touch you?" I asked, making a face of mock disgust. "Eww, gross! Cooties!" "Ass!" He tossed the bottle at me and I scrambled to catch it. "Well," I said, "someone doesn't play well with others. I'll have to make a note of that on your report card." He flipped me off. "Someone won't be touching me at all if he doesn't rub that lotion on me." "It rubs the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again." Micah gave me his best 'what the fuck?' look. "Man," I said, "do we have a lot of movies to watch." "Lotion," he said firmly. "Now." "Yeth, Mathter," I said in my best 'Igor' voice. He stared at me as if I'd grown another head. "You're goofy." "Yet you love me anyway." "Whatever, manwhore," he said, pointing to the bottle of lotion in my hand. "I ain't got all day." I stood up, popped the cap on the bottle, and squirted a generous amount of the white goop onto my palm. "Take the shades off, Hollywood." He removed the sunglasses and flipped his hair away from his face. I lifted my hands and began to work the lotion into the exposed skin of his face, ears, and neck. The strong aroma of coconut filled the air. "You should be wearing a hat, Punky." "It's too hot to wear a hat." "I know, but your scalp can blister just as easily as the rest of you. I know from experience." I had once been an extra on a television show that had filmed on location at a beach in Florida. While I had applied sunscreen to my face, I'd neglected to put on the upper part of my forehead. After eleven hours in the exposed sun (for a scene that ended up lasting only forty-five seconds in the final cut of the episode), I'd received a nasty burn on the top of my noggin. It was not a pleasant experience. "Okay, Mom," he said with a smile. I pointed the bottle at his chest and squeezed. A nice big glob of the cool lotion shot out with a splurt and landed on his chest. "Ahh! Cold!" he shrieked. "Fucker! "Sorry. Accident." I was trying to hide a smile, but he saw right through it. "Watch where you point that thing!" Quick as a whip, I replied, "That's not what you said last night." He giggled and flipped his hair. I winked at him and began rubbing the sunscreen into his chest (paying particular attention to his nipples, which he seemed to enjoy), shoulders, and arms. My hands moved down to this tummy and slowly spread the lotion over it. He flinched when I reached his sides. "No fair tickling," he said. An evil smile crossed my face as I moved further south, my fingers slipping inside the waistband of his shorts. I was surprised to find out that he was going commando. My jeans immediately began to tighten as my dick sprung to life. My hand slid around his waist and cupped his ass. "What are you doing, Simon?" "You asked me to put the lotion on you, didn't you? "Somehow I don't think my ass will get sunburn." "You never know," I replied, squeezing his cheeks. "Those UV rays are sneaky buggers." He rolled his eyes and flipped his hair. "You just wanted an excuse to touch my ass, weirdo." I pulled my hands from his shorts. "You're not wearing underwear and I'm the weird one?" "It's too hot for underwear." "Too hot, huh? Well, why not just mow the lawn in the nude?" "Can I?" Quite honestly, I couldn't tell if he was serious, or just yanking my chain. He'd switched on his poker face again, the one he could turn on and off at will. Whether or not he was kidding, there was one thing I knew for sure: Micah was a dirty little boy. And I loved him for it. "No, Punky," I said. "Turn around." Before he could comply, I glanced down and noticed the beginnings of a tent in his shorts. He was certainly enjoying this. I squirted some more lotion and worked it into his back. His skin was so baby-soft, and the more I rubbed it, the harder I became. I wanted this boy in the worst way. It would have been so easy to yank down those shorts, whip out my cock, bend him over the desk, and fuck him like a beast. I couldn't wait to feel myself inside him. Do it! Give that dog a bone! Shut up! Fuck that little bitch! You need to stop. Right fucking now! Come on, Simon. This has gay porno written all over it! The older daddy-bear putting suntan lotion on his little cub, one thing leads to another, and whammo! Daddy teaches son what it means to be a man. You are so. Not. Helping. Bow chicka bow bow. Shush! Wokka chicka wokka chicka. Zip it! "Not now, Simon," Micah said suddenly, startling me from my inner monologue. "What?" My hands moved down his back, working in the lotion. "I know what you're thinking about – what you want – but you're gonna have to wait. I've got it all planned out." This kid definitely had my number; there was no doubt about it. "You do like to plan ahead, don't you?" He smiled. "More like I love to keep you guessing. Well, that and torturing the shit out of you. The longer you wait, the more you'll appreciate it." Sneaky little bugger! "You have a devious little mind, Punky," I said, moving my hands inside the front of his shorts. "And I think you liked it when I touched your ass." He flipped his head around. "Did not." My hand slipped deeper inside his shorts and grabbed hold of his raging boyhood. "Explain this, then." "Mmm," he cooed, before recovering and playfully slapping at my arm. "That has nothing to do with you. I was thinking about someone else." I began jacking his dick. "Someone else, huh? Who is he? I'll kick his ass." I pulled him closer with my other arm. He leaned back against my body in response; his head tilted to one side as he moaned softly. I took advantage of his exposed neck by pressing my lips to it, planting gentle kisses. I began thrusting my hardness against his back as the kisses turned into playful nibbles. My free hand moved up his torso to tweak one of his nipples. "Oh, god, Simon," he said breathlessly. "Even if you were thinking about somebody else – which we both know you weren't – I could make you forget about him." My hand sped up, pulling his cock more aggressively. He moaned louder. "Fuck, Simon. You need to stop. I'm gonna shoot in my shorts!" I gave his neck one last little nibble and moved my lips to his ear. "Would you rather shoot in my mouth?" I whispered. "Yes. Oh, fuck – yes," he moaned. "But you better hurry." Quick as a flash, I let go of him and yanked his shorts down with both hands, leaving him naked but for his shoes and socks. He stepped out of the shorts as he spun around to face me, his rock-hard member sticking straight out from his body, begging for more attention. I stepped out of the way and pointed him towards my desk chair. "Plant your ass down on the edge of the seat and spread your legs." He did so, and leaned back, looking up at me with a lascivious smile. I took a moment to gaze at his gorgeous body. He was absolute perfection, not a flaw anywhere. How lucky was I that he'd chosen me to fall in love with? If what we were sharing didn't last forever, if it lasted a year, a month, a week, or, hell, just through the weekend, I would still count myself as the most fortunate guy on the planet. Perhaps even the luckiest man who'd ever lived, because Micah Gibbs, whom I was convinced was an angel fallen from heaven, had loved me and let me love him. There was no greater gift I could be given. As I fell to my knees, I stared him straight in the eyes and said, "I wish you knew how beautiful you are." He blushed as his eyes fell. I knew he didn't believe it, that I'd never convince him. That didn't mean I'd ever stop trying. "Love you, Simon," he said, almost in a whisper, his eyes still looking down. I placed my hands on his inner thighs and rubbed them gently. "Look at me, Punky." He did. My head descended and hovered over his erect cock, but I never broke eye contact. "I love you, too. If only you knew how much." He flashed me a coy smile. "Show me." My mouth opened and I sucked in the entire length of his hardness. Micah breathed out a sharp hiss of air. "Damn." When I'd blown him the previous evening, I'd moved quickly because he was so desperate to achieve orgasm. There was no such urgency today, so I worked him slowly and deliberately. I wanted him to enjoy himself for as long as possible. Per his request, I wanted to show him exactly how much I loved him. Micah placed his hand on the back of my head and gently pulled it down, thrusting himself upwards into my mouth as he did so. His lithe body shuddered in ecstasy as my tongue teased and bathed every inch of him. My reward was the familiar taste of his pre-cum, smacking of youth and feral lust. It felt right somehow, having his hardness surrounded by my lips, and I savored every second of pleasuring him this way. "Shit, Simon," he moaned, fucking my face with greater intensity. "Feels so good." Those three words made me work harder, to give him the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life. I wanted – no, needed – to prove my love, to show him that I existed to be his and his alone. One of my hands slid from his inner thigh and cupped his sack, gently milking the junior-sized orbs. I slowed the working of his cock, wanting this to go on forever. I positioned my other hand at the base of his shaft and opened my mouth, allowing the mixture of saliva and pre-cum to drip down and coat my fingers. When they were nice and wet, I moved them down to his hole. Immediately, I felt his sphincter relax. The boy knew just what to do; he wanted me to invade his most holy of holies. I was certainly glad to oblige. Gently, I pushed a finger inside him. "Oh, fuck," he moaned as I slid all the way inside him. His ass clamped down on my finger. I pulled almost all the way out and when he relaxed, I slid back in again. The way he was relaxing and flexing his muscles told me he was ready to be fucked. Just like his cousin, this boy seemed perfectly suited to take it up the ass. When he finally allowed me to take that step, I hoped he would enjoy it as much, if not more, than Parker had. While you could teach someone how to be a good bottom, there were those who were just meant for it. Park was a born catcher. Micah, on the other hand, I hoped, could both pitch and catch. He'd enjoyed giving to his cousin, so I prayed he'd enjoy taking it from me. His entire body shuddered."Oh, god!" I slowly finger-fucked him as my mouth and tongue continued their work. His moans grew louder, indicating that he must be close to giving in to orgasm. "Oh, Simon," he said. "I'm gonna – I'm gonna—" My head pistoned up and down, twisted side to side, over his cock. I knew it would come soon, and I couldn't wait to receive the reward for my efforts. "Oh, fuck, Simon! Unnnggghhh!" His hips thrust upwards and his cock exploded. My mouth filled with the salty-sweet taste of his boy jizz and I worked furiously to lap up every drop. The hand that had been massaging his balls moved up to the base of his shaft and wrapped around it. Only the head of his delicious dick remained in my mouth. As my hand stroked him lovingly, my tongue darted back and forth over his dome, lapping up his nectar and teasing the sensitive skin. My finger continued to slowly piston in and out of his hole. His body squirmed as he tried to recover. "Damn, Simon," he said with a quiver in his voice. "Just – holy shit." Satisfied that his well was dry, I pulled back from him, removed my finger from his hole, and looked at him with a smile. "You're amazing," I said, my hands rubbing his inner thighs. "You're amazinger," he replied with a wink, placing his own hands over top of mine. Fuck, I loved him so much it hurt. It was because I loved him so much that something lingered in my mind that wouldn't let go. It wasn't guilt – I'd gotten over that – but another emotion that gnawed at me, born out of my own rampant insecurity and self-doubt. Though I hated even to bring it up, I knew I wouldn't feel better until it was out there in the open. "I need to say something, Punky." "Okay." I took hold of his hands. "You know I love you, right?" He smiled. "Of course." I wasn't sure how to say it. I was embarrassed to say it because if I did so it would be an admission of something I didn't want to own up to. "What happened with Parker—" He rolled his eyes."Simon, you don't have to—" "No, Micah, I do." I didn't have to, but I was a certified crazy person (with the membership card to prove it), and my brain forced me to go there. "Was what happened with him a mistake?" He sighed. "No, it really wasn't." I was right – he didn't want to hear it. "Then why do I feel—?" "I have no idea, and we talked about this last night." "I know." "You have nothing to feel guilty about." "I don't feel guilty. It's just—" "Just what?" "I don't—" He let go of my hands and gave me a light slap to the side of my head. "You are such a pain in my ass. You need to let this shit go." There was not so much anger in his voice as there was frustration. He was right in that we'd been down this road before, and picked up our fair share of t-shirts along the way. This is why you've never had a fucking relationship. Yep. You can't handle a relationship. Tell me something I don't know. Can you be any more of a pussy? I'm fucked up enough without you making things worse. Somebody needs to tell you the truth about yourself. I know the truth. I'm a hot fucking mess. "Simon?" "Yeah?" "What's going on inside your head when you go all quiet like that?" I couldn't tell him I had long, drawn-out conversations with myself, in which the two halves of my psyche bickered like an old married couple. He'd think I was nuts. You are nuts. I'm not crazy, for fuck's sake! Then why are you arguing with yourself? That's a fair question. Maybe I'm a little crazy. They're gonna lock you away. What's wrong with being a little crazy? We all go a little mad sometimes. So you're Norman-fucking Bates now? Yeah, don't mess with me, or Mother will fuck you up. You've flown over the cuckoo's nest. You're one-step away from sharing a stick of Juicy Fruit with a big guy named 'Chief', right before he smothers you with a pillow. Make up your mind. Am I Norman Bates, or R.P. McMurphy? Does it really matter, Simon? Probably not. Micah shouted me out of my inner monologue. "You're doing it again!" "Sorry?" He had a puzzled look on his face, one that signaled he might be questioning my sanity. "Well?" "Well, what?" He threw his hands up in frustration. "What's going on with you?" "I love you." "Ugh! You're talking in circles!" He flipped his hair. "I already know that, so what's your deal?" I thought for a moment before I answered. I was not entirely sure any of this would make sense to him. "You're the only person I've ever loved, Micah, and at forty-two years old, it’s a safe bet you're the only person I'll ever love." "Okay, but I still don't see the point." This was not going well. I should have never brought it up in the first place. His aggravation was palpable. "My point is—my point—" Micah leaned forward, grabbed hold of my t-shirt, and pulled me toward him. While on occasion I had found it difficult to read his facial expression, this was not one of those times. I wouldn't say he looked pissed as much as he looked serious. I was about to experience what my mother liked to call 'a come to Jesus moment'. "Listen to me, Simon, and you'd better listen good because I'm only going to say this once. This. Shit's. Getting. Old. Are you listening?" I nodded. "What happened with Parker was no big deal. We all wanted it to happen, so I let it happen. The reason I let it happen, other than the fact that it was insanely hot, is because I love you and I trust you. I knew it was just sex for you; that it didn't mean you didn't love me any less. Second, this insecurity thing of yours is total crap. I'm with you because I want to be. I love you, and nothing is going to change that." "But—" "Shut up, I'm not finished." He paused, in what I assumed was an attempt to regain his train of thought. It didn't take long for him to find it. "I've never been in love either, and you know what? I'm scared to death. This is the most wonderful, yet crazy-terrifying, thing that's ever happened to me. I don't know how long this is going to last – though I don't plan on it ending any time soon – but we're here now. We should enjoy being together as long as we can. If you keep holding on to whatever's crawled up your ass and built a nest, we can't do that. "What happens when Mom comes home tomorrow? I don't know, but we love each other and we can make it work. I'm not going anywhere because I want to be with you no matter what. In other words, cut out your annoying bullshit, put on some big boy pants, and fucking deal with it. I'm tired of it, Simon. You have no confidence in yourself, or in me. If you don't believe in us, then what's the point of all this? You're just wasting our time and making yourself miserable in the process." He fell silent. His hand still gripped my shirt; his eyes still locked on mine. It was a good thing I'd found myself without words. To be quite frank, I was afraid to speak. If the speech hadn't been over, the smack down would continue. It reminded me of all the times my mother had gotten into my face to give me a 'talking to', and got pissed if I interrupted her. The same fear I felt then is what I felt now. For all I knew, Micah had a switch hidden; one with which he was prepared to beat the hell out of me. Nothing would surprise me at this point. He was frustrated with me, and had every right to be. The unfortunate thing was, while I had let go of the guilt I'd wrestled with since all this began, there was still a bundle of issues left in my emotional bag of tricks. Micah had been correct to call me out on my insecurity, which was the root of all my problems. I'd carried it with me since middle school, where I'd suffered bullying and verbal abuse, each one robbing me of my identity and my self-esteem. That psychological baggage, along with the depression, was the reason I'd never been in a relationship. I'd never thought myself worthy of love, much less from someone like Micah. I wasn't sure I could tell him the truth of what bothered me. It came with no small amount of shame that I had no confidence in myself, or that I was not strong enough to fight off the depression. The fact that it all stemmed from a time when I'd been too afraid to stick up for myself, to stand by and let it happen, made me feel even more afraid to tell him. Even if I did tell him, would he be able to understand? Then again, I had to say something. "I'm sorry." He let go of my shirt. "I don't want an apology. I want to know what's wrong with you." "Do you want the long list, or the short list?" "Don't be a smart ass. There's more going on than you're telling me, so out with it." "You want the truth?" "Yes." "I'm not worthy of you, Punky." I hung my head in shame. "I'm not worthy of being loved." He stared at me with wide eyes. "That's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard." He stood up from the chair, pushed me out of the way, and retrieved his shorts from the floor. As he pulled them on, he said, "And you are the biggest horse's ass I've ever seen." "Punky—" He pushed me down on the chair and hopped up onto my lap. His legs straddled my body and dangled behind me. He put his finger to my lips and grinned. "Shush! Daddy's talking." I laughed. He removed his finger and his face turned serious again. "There's no one in the world more worthy of being loved than you. You're an amazing person. You're kind and generous. Hell, you've helped me and Mom more times than I can count. You've fixed stuff at our house; you mowed our lawn long before I was old enough to do it. Now that I am old enough, you pay me way more than most kids get. You've taken me on trips with you, picked me up from and dropped me off at school, and even helped me with my homework before. You've been almost like a father to me, Simon. "Look what you did for Parker. He's had issues with men since his own asshole dad beat the shit out of him. The fact that he was able to trust you enough to let you do what you did to him says a lot about the type of person you are. Is any of this getting through to your stubborn ass?" I nodded and tried to keep from crying. My arms reached out and pulled him into an embrace. There was no possible way for me express the depth of my love for him. If what I'd said was true, and I never did love again, I was okay with that. Ours was a love for the ages, and I would carry it with me always. "I love you, Micah. I know you don't want an apology, but I am sorry. Sorry that I'm fucked in the head, and so incredibly insecure that I find it hard to believe in myself, or that someone, most of all you, could ever love me. I wish I could explain everything, to tell you why I am the way I am. I should explain, and maybe I will soon, but for now just know that I’m trying. I want to be with you more than anything. You mean the world to me, Punky." He hugged me tight and laid his head on my shoulder. My hands acted on instinct. They moved down his back and inside his shorts again. "I'm sorry, Simon, for whatever was done to you to make you feel this way about yourself. I understand, I guess, and when you're ready to talk about it, I'll listen. You need to know that none of it is true. If I didn't think you were worthy of love, I wouldn't waste my time with you." He pulled away from my shoulder and grinned. "Especially not when I have Captain Creeper from the pizza joint as a backup plan." I laughed. "I knew it! I knew you had a thing for him. Were you thinking of him when I went down on you?" "Eww, gross! I'd rather have sex with Bigfoot!" I shuddered. "There's a visual." "So are you okay now, or am I gonna have to kick your ass?" "I don't believe any ass-kicking will be required." He flipped his hair. "That's too bad. I was looking forward to kicking a little ass today." "I could take you." Micah shook his head. "Don't be so sure. I may be small, but I'm scrappy." "Alright, Scrappy. Get out there and mow those lawns." He saluted. "Sir, yes, Sir!" My lover leaned in, gave me a quick peck on the lips, and then wrapped me in another tight embrace. The strong odor of pineapple, the scent of his shampoo, and coconut invaded my senses. "You smell like a piña colada." Micah pulled away. "Whatever, freak show. Now quit feeling me up, I've got work to do." I removed my hands from his shorts and he climbed off me. "See ya in a little while, Punky." "Later, manwhore." He threw me a wave and walked out of the office. I smiled as I realized how lucky I was and went back to work. This is not the end. Chapter Eleven of Micah and Me will be here in a few days! :) 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.