Date: Wed, 5 Apr 2000 04:30:49 EDT From: Justin69SK@aol.com Subject: Michael's Secret Love Chapter 1 Michael's Secret Love Chapter 1 Written By: Justin Case 4/4/00 --------- DISCLAIMER: This story is about young gay love, it is between two high school boys, and will be described in a graphic manner. If this is illegal you should leave the sight now. If you are here for an education, you may stay. If you are here, and find this offensive, you should have left by now. This story is pure fiction, any similarities to actual people, places, or events is coincidental. The character names are all fictional. The places, while they may have real names, is only to create a sense of reality. --------- Words from the author: HELLO, BOYS & GIRLS, it is so good to see you have joined me once again. I hope to take you on a ride. I hope to take you places, that do, and can exist. I hope you find this story of young love, as fascinating as I do. I ask you all, to remember my words--"Walk tall my little ones, hold your heads high, fear not your shame, for you are a chosen one!"--Justin Case Many write me, and many instant message me, with kind words of encouragement. To all of you, I thank you. From the very bottom of my heart, I thank you. It is, an honor and a privilege to write for you, and to share my emotions with you. It is even better when you share yours with me. If you like the story you may e-mail me at Justin69SK@aol.com I answer all my e-mail, and love to get it. --------- "Michael, Michael,... Mike? are you up yet?" came my mother's voice through the air. I opened my eyes, and reached my right fist to them. I rubbed the sleep away. I rubbed the itches out of my eyes. I reached over to my night stand, which was right next to my bed and clicked on my lamp. It was a desk lamp, it had a brass stand, and small brass cane shaped leg, that connected to a green glass bulb cover. It only stood about eighteen inches tall, the kind you see on a desk in some office. It cast a green shadow around the room. My bedroom, my place of solitude. The nerve center of my life. I have a great bedroom. Its done in all greens. I really love green, especially if it involves dead presidents, and they're in my wallet. As you come into my bedroom the first thing you notice is my double bed. That's because I have it kitty cornered directly across from the door. When you open the door the foot of my bed is just five short steps away. Behind the headboard of the bed, I have a huge tree, the kind you grow in doors. The tree has been in my room since I was eleven, five years now. Then on the left wall as you enter my room is my computer center, and book shelf. I love to read. I save all the books I read, someday I'll have my own library. I have an antique dresser to the right of the door, and a huge double walk-in closet. The walls are a pale green. The carpet is forest green and has matching drapes. "Mikey.... Michael Joseph! Are you up yet?" Comes my Mother's voice, from the kitchen, I imagine. Sounds like she's up the hall. "Yeppur Mom, I'm up." I yell back, as I sit in my bed, and survey my belongings. I get out of my nice warm bed, and check myself out in the full length mirror, mounted on my bedroom wall between the dresser and the closet. I look at myself. Man, am I ugly in the morning. Bed hair. I hate two things, bed hair, and hat hair. I have curly light brown hair. All the girls say they wish they had my hair. Yeah, not when you have it. I mean it never curls where you want it. My hair has a mind of it's own, and I do believe it is conspiring against me. Below my short hair, are my green eyes. I think, they are too far apart. My eyes are set on top of my small pointy, slightly turned up nose. Then there's my mouth, now that's the nicest thing about me, I do have a great smile. It comes from three painful years of braces. Lets try to forget the damn retainer, I wore for six months at night. I try to. I stand about six feet even, and weigh in at 160, no flab on this boys body. No sir! I stand there in front of my mirror every morning. That way, if someone asks me later in the day for my identification, I can honestly say, I know its me, I checked in the mirror. I have to check my body everyday, you never know, if you might have lost a piece during the night. I stand there and look at myself, standing in my boxers, my red plaid boxers. Hey I got them for Christmas, what can I say. I run my eyes over my face, checking for any blemishes, you never know when one or two pimples decide your face is the place for them. These pimples always seem to know, the best time to come out too. Like before you are going to a school dance. Blap, a pimple shows up. Oh and never alone, no sir, he always brings a friend or two, you can count on it. I never met a pimple I liked. Next I check my chest, looking for any sign of hair. I really want to keep the hair to a minimum on my chest. I mean who wants to sleep with a gorilla? I hope it never comes in beyond the one I have. My lone chest hair. I hope he isn't lonely. I hear waxing is painful. I love looking at my chest, and stomach. If you cut my head off, I got a great looking body. I have a great physique, lucky about that. I never really had to work out. I inherited my muscles from my Dad. Quite the six pack. Then under my cute little innie belly button, I have the finest, and faintest little trail to my pubes. Fine light brown hairs. I love to feel them every morning. Then, I always have to pull the waist band of my boxers out from my waist, so I can look down at my prick and that huge sack that holds my chestnuts. Yep still there, and looking happy. After I look down on him, I slip the boxers down my legs, my thighs are very smooth, and the calves of my legs have fine, little hairs like my belly button, and not too many. I have to look at my friend in the mirror, he always looks bigger in the mirror, than when I look down at him. Next after checking my cock, I twist my body so I can view my butt. I have the cutest butt. Its smooth, and white, and has large dimples on either side. I love to look at the cheeks of my ass. I have some fine golden hairs in the crack, but you can't see them unless you separate the two globes of flesh. I can see my balls hanging down through my legs, in the mirror. The inventory done, and to my satisfaction, I slide the right door to my closet open to grab my bath towel. I wrap it around my waist and head for the shower. I always take my shower in the morning, so I can fix my hair. I can't sleep on my hair, and then go right out the door. I think they have a law against that. I brush and floss my teeth every day, most days twice. Once in the morning then again at night before I go to bed. I turn the shower on before I get into it, and always stick my hand in to check the water temperature. This morning the water temp is perfect. I sling the towel over the top of the shower door, and step in. This morning is no different from any other morning. I stand under the shower, and get my young smooth body entirely wet with the stream of water. When I am completely wet, I reach for the dial soap, and my wash cloth. The soap is always in the soap dish, unless some idiot forgot to put it there. Make that three things I hate. I hate getting in the shower, and then discovering there is no soap. I lather my body, starting with my face, and getting behind my ears. I remember years of, "Did you wash behind your ears, Michael?" My mother drummed it into my skull when I was much younger. Now that I'm sixteen I remind myself. After I wash my face, I rinse it, so I can open my eyes and watch me wash the rest of my body. I always finish washing my dick last. I love to wash my dick. I mean, my dick; is the most favorite part of my body, giving me the most pleasure. Right in front of my ass, and that is the truth. I lather up my cock, and wake him up. I look down at my five inch friend, he is doing his morning stretch. I can't resist wrapping my right hand around him and giving him a couple jerks. Man it feels so good. I reach my left hand up to my nipples, and pinch them, while I stroke my lathered cock. I can feel my hips tense and push my tool up into my clenched hand. MMMM, it feels so good. In my mind I visualize James, my boyfriend. I picture James on his knees with me in the shower. Oooo, I can see the water running over James's head, while he bobs up and down on my hot, hard prick. I can feel his hot mouth on me, as I stroke my little friend. I see James in my mind. His dirty blonde hair, his blue eyes, and his young sixteen year old face, looking at my hard cock while he sucks me off. MMM, I can feel my hot jiz begin its journey up my cock. I can feel my balls tighten, and pushing the cream up my dick. I begin to tremble, and thrust my hips forward. The muscles in my legs tighten, and I take a deep breath. AAA mmm, yesssss,!! The come shoots out of my five inch member, I watch the head of my dick, as it releases another shot, and then another. MMMMMM OOOooo mmmmm. I am done. I am spent. I take my right hand, to my nose and smell my fluids. Then, I lick the little bit that remains on my fingers, into my mouth. I stand under the shower, and rinse my body off. Then I wash my hair. I rinse the remaining soap, and shampoo from my head, and body. I reach up and turn the water off. I grab for the towel, and dry myself. "Michael, you have to make sure you dry your private areas, and between your toes really well." I can hear my Dad's voice in my head. The other bathing lesson, passed on to me from my parents. Dad told me that, when I was twelve. The same day, he told me about the birds and the bees. I never forgot the advice. He also, showed me where we kept the Tinactin, just in case I should ever get athletes foot, or jock itch. Dad told me if I dried really well, I wouldn't have to worry about either. Dad was wrong. From time to time I would get one or the other. Plagued with a red itchy, burning rash of sorts, either between my legs, or toes, I always knew where we kept the Tinactin. I wrapped the towel around my waist and headed back for my bedroom to dress. I felt relieved. I had to jerk off every morning. I woke up with a raging boner, and it screamed for release. I never had a wet dream. I always jerked off, ever since James, came home from Boy Scout summer camp and taught me how. That was the best damn thing, I ever learned how to do. We were both thirteen, when James showed me the way to play with my toy. James and I have gone way beyond jerking off since. I took the towel off, and grabbed some boxers from my dresser. Then, I clicked on my stereo, and "Maria, Maria" by Carlos Santanna played much to my delight. I love that song. I sang along with the radio, as I dressed. I sing in the school chorus. I love to sing. I have a pretty good voice according to most people. I grab my BOSS jeans, the really baggy ones, and my DKNY shirt. Today, I'm going to wear my beads, the tight neck beads with the matching wrist beads. James gave them to me for Christmas, he said "Give you the raver boy look, love." That's my James, straight and to the point. Well, not straight, but always to the point. I grabbed my Timberlands, if I'm going for the raver boy look, I had to wear my Timberland boots. James is really cool. I have known him since I was like ten. He lived a couple streets away. We were best of friends as little tikes, and now at sixteen, we were lovers. Secret lovers, we couldn't share our love openly. No, we always found private moments for that. James came from a Southern Baptist up bringing. His parents were very active in his church. They hated gays. James was shorter than me. He was only five six. He had these long arms. A cute little body, and the nicest four and a half inch cock I had ever tasted. Actually the only one I had ever tasted. Well, all dressed, and one more check in the mirror, had to make sure it was me. It was. So I decided it was time to grace my parents with my presence at the breakfast table. The rule in the Martin house hold, was breakfast and dinner together everyday. We started our days together, and ended them together. My parents were very strict about that. I turned off the radio, right in the middle of Savage Gardens, "I Loved You Before I Met You" my other favorite song. It made me think of James. I walked into the kitchen, and took my place at the center of my two parents. Mom on my left, and Dad on my right. Dad looked over his paper at me, and smiled. "Everything come out all right in the shower this morning?" Dad said, always the joker. "UM Dad" I said, as I blushed. I always wondered how he knew. "Now Mike. Is that any kind of talk at my breakfast table?" Mom shot him the look. Heres something else, I always pondered. How come, its Mom's breakfast table, and Dad's dinner table? Is it like that in your house? Just how does that come to be? "Hey Mom, I have to stay late tonight, chorus practice. James' Mom is picking us up. I should be here by four." I said as I shoveled down my cereal. I love Life, you know "Mikey's Life". I let the milk sit on it, for a little while, so it would get a little soggy, but not too soggy. "OK Mike. We're having stew for dinner tonight." Mom said. She always told us in the morning what was for dinner. If we forgot, she always had a menu posted on the refrigerator. "Well, I'll see you both later. I love you both." I said to my parents, as I kissed them both good bye. I cut across my back yard, and through the fence and stone wall that separated our yard from the two houses behind ours. The Diamond's house which was directly behind ours, and the Shannuck's which was next to the Diamond's and on top of the hill. We called it the Shannuck Hill, and used it for sledding in the winter. Until the Massey's moved in next door to us, at the bottom of the hill, the bastards put up a fence. Mr. Massey was the nosy one of the neighborhood, we called him Hawkeye. He never missed a trick, and knew all our names, and worse yet, our telephone numbers. Mrs. Shannuck was on her back porch. "Morning Mike, beautiful day." She said and watched me cut through her yard, like I do everyday, twice a day. Once going to meet my James, in the morning, and again coming home from his house. School or no school everyday, unless he was on vacation, I went to James' house or he came to mine. "Good morning, Mrs. Shannuck. How are you today? Yes, lovely weather." I said joyfully to her. I smiled, my best morning smile I could. "Have a nice day." Mrs. Shannuck called to me as I crossed her front lawn. I turned and waved my hand to her. I could see my James, he was walking to meet me. My James, he was a sight. Whenever we would come together, we always smiled to each other. If we got within ten feet of one another, the smiles just came on our faces, and we would look into each others eyes. God I love him. He is my everything. I could see James was wearing the outfit I gave him for Christmas. He had on the Jnco jeans, the red Nautica shirt, and the same neck beads, we each had a set. James felt it was cool, and nobody would question it. I mean we were best of friends and everyone knew that. I knew that the beads meant something else to him and I. They were a symbol of our endless love for one another. "Morning, Love." James said, as he smiled and reached for my hand to shake it. "Morning, back. I love you too." I said to him, and shook his hand while smiling. We walked to the bus stop and waited for the bus. It was a beautiful morning. Perfect in every way. No wind, no clouds, and the sky was a rich blue, the sun was just climbing up over the trees. We chattered with our school mates, well, at least the ones at the bus stop. The bus pulled up at same time every morning. Seven ten, well, not exactly the same time, sometimes it was a few minutes late. This morning it was right on time. James and I boarded the bus, and always sat in the same seat together. The privileges of being a junior on the bus. All the seniors drove, so the juniors were the oldest. We talked about the chorus practice. We were both in the chorus, both tenors, and both had great voices. This weekend was the Spring Concert, the chorus and band would perform together. Parents and Grandparents would flood the auditorium to see us sing, and play. Tonight after school was the final audition for the solo, the choral finale was a tenor solo. Both, James and I were competing against Eugene. We were the only tenors in the chours. James, Eugene and I. James and I both loathed Eugene, as most kids did. He was so godamn pissy. I can't think of any other way to describe him. No, pissy fit Eugene like a rubber glove. I had practiced for the last two weeks. The song was "Where is Love" from the musical "Oliver" our drama guild had perfromed the musical last month. The band knew the score, and the decision was made to have it sung by the chorus. I was worried, it would come down between James and I. I dreaded, but looked forward to this audition for the last two weeks. I hoped nobodies feelings would be hurt, well I didn't care if Eugene's feelings were hurt. Tonight, in the Bonnie Eagle High School, in little old, Covington Maine, the tenor would be selected. I was excited, and scared. I didn't want to loose my secret love. --------- Well my friends thats all this chapter wrote. What will happen? Will the love of these two endure the audition? You'll just have to continue with the saga. I promise not to make you wait too long. Quick word to my good friend Ryan, where the hell ya been? I miss you. The bastards, must be working you like a dog, over there in Hawaii. How's school? I am keeping the bed warm. See you in July. If you have any comments send them to me at Justin69SK@aol.com