Oh my gosh ... it looks like Jeremy is going through with it. He is going to try to get our shy, little Mikey boy in the buff! Good luck dude. You might as well try to pet a cobra or get the Pope to celebrate Black Mass. Michael is modest to the point of neurosis. Anyway ... I just don't think it's going to happen.
By Paul Schroder
A brief recap of Chapter 6: Jeremy is speaking:
"Your sister have cheer leading practice tonight?"
Michael just nodded his head yes.
"That means no one will be home for at least an hour right?"
Again he nods his head yes.
"Well then Mic" I told him..."I think I may just be calling in that giant favor you owe me buddy."
Michael gets this oh-oh look in his eyes ... and I can't say I blame him.
"Ahmm," I clear my throat. "So here's the thing Mic..."
Our story continues from Michael's perspective:
I felt myself sucking in air like I was underwater and breathing through a soda straw. There was this huge, instant stab of panic. Now don't get me wrong, I totally trust Jeremy with my life and I know he would never ever do anything to physically harm me. However, one of his passions in life has been to embarrass the hell out of me and watch me blush. For instance, the last time I spent the night at his place - he stretched Saran wrap across their toilet bowl so that I ended up peeing over half the bathroom and my pajama bottoms. I know ... I probably bring it on myself because I am so body conscious and everything ... shy, in other words. And I swear he is forever trying to get a look at my stuff ... if you know what I mean. It was only a suspicion until he accidentally 'outed' himself to me - and now I am quite certain he wants to see my wee willy wanka. So, as soon as he said he was going to call in that giant favour I owe him ... I felt my bum-hole pucker up like my Mom was waving a thermometer at it. I knew with a certainty what he was going to command of me.
Now ... I guess it is time for some real honesty here, since I am just talking to myself. I suppose ... on some level, some deep, deep underlying, subliminal and totally submerged level ... I kind of want to show him my stuff. 'Oh geeze, there I go. Once I admit that then there is no calling it back.'
I guess I want to have him look at it and say, I dunno, maybe ... "gee Michael, that's some pretty nice stuff there." Or "it's not shrimpy Michael, it's a good, normal sized dick and you should be proud of it." OK, OK ... I know that's totally stupid. But the thing is, I realize that I have this shrimpy little dick. That is the reason I am so modest about my body. I am sensitive about my little 'button,' as my Mom used to call it. God ... how is that for embarrassment, when your Mom refers to your dick as a button. Of course it's bigger now than when she used to see it but not a whole hell of a lot.
And I guess the biggest reason that I kind of want this is because I have this thing for Jeremy ... these feelings. I way more than like him as a friend. Yeah, that's right, I guess I'm not ready to say the 'L' word yet ... but you get the picture.
I find myself looking at him a lot lately. And I don't mean just his naked parts either, although they are definitely fun to look at, and he seems to find excuses to show them. I have been noticing little things about him ... like the exciting way his neck tapers to his shoulders or that cute little 'v' cleft just below his adam's apple. And his 'skin' ... I can't begin to describe the sensations I get from looking at his skin. He has this ... velvety seeming epidermis that just begs me to reach over and stroke it. And ... I know I make fun of those glasses and everything - but if that kid were to get contacts, or something, I think I would melt right off my bones from looking at him. His face is that pretty.
When he strutted his stuff to me Saturday at Potter's field, I felt this sense of panic - because I wanted to see him but I didn't want to admit to myself that I wanted to see him. But later, that night ... lying in bed, his nude body was all I could think about. I cried that night ... I was so confused. He told me he was gay and then part of me wanted to throw my arms up and whoop for joy ... but my secret self crammed all my emotions right back into that little box. And because I wasn't honest with him and wasn't honest with myself ... I was so ashamed. And so it was tears of shame that soaked into my pillow that night. And the tears were also from the aching and longing and desire that some part of me kept wanting to stuff way down deep and bury. Only they didn't stay buried that night. Before I fell asleep I knew for a fact, and admitted to myself, that I was a gay boy too. I am a gay boy and wishful thinking and denial isn't going to change that fact. Either I accept it and get on with life or I know I have years of misery ahead of me. I finally felt some sense of peace when I at last dozed off.
But, that was then ... and this is now. You don't shed that automatic panic feeling as easily as a snake sheds its skin. It was going to take real, honest effort on my part to open up. And who, in this world, did I want to open myself too? Stupid question. It was the boy sitting on the edge of my bed - the one who just grinningly said he was going to call in his giant favor. As if I don't know what that favor is.
"Ahmm" Jeremy clears his throat. "So here's the thing Mic..."
And before he got any further, I just grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it up and over my head ... dropping the shirt at my feet. Then I used my toes to push the heels of my Nikes down and kicked them off my feet.
Michael was in the process of saying something but then his words just kind of tapered off into silence while he watched me ... spellbound. He was just observing me now ... looking kind of mesmerized - this wistful expression on his face. And I swear his eyes were kind of tearing up ... but he never said another single word.
I had dropped my board shorts now and just stepped out of them. I was standing there in my jockeys and socks and then I told Jeremy ... "finish for me."
I heard this intake of breath. He didn't move for a few seconds, just sat there while understanding dawned on him. Then he kinda slid to his knees in front of me and, looking into my face, he reached down and wrapped his hand around my left ankle. I placed my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, and raised my foot slightly. Jeremy slid my sock off. I put that foot down and raised the other one. Still looking into my face with this warm smile, this almost glowing expression, he reached for the other sock and slipped that one off as well.
I kind of glanced down to my jockeys and then back up to his eyes again. He caught the gesture and placed his hands on my hips. That was when he finally let go of the eye contact and his eyes slowly traveled down my chest and then my belly and finally rested on my groin. I'm sure he saw the bulge. It wasn't big, as bulges go, but it was as big as mine ever got.
Jeremy's hands were shaking a bit now, as they rested there on my hips. I saw him biting at his lower lip. That's kind of funny, I was thinking; here I am - old shy boy himself - and yet I am feeling this sense of peaceful resolve. Jeremy, on the other hand, was breathing like he had giant rubber bands wrapped around his chest. He wet his lips and then let his hands slide down my hips until they rested at the leg openings of my jockeys. Then he slipped his thumbs under the fabric and started inching my underwear down. When the waistband reached my pubes, or where my pubes would hopefully be one day, he stopped for a second and took in this long, indrawn breath. He continued tugging at the fabric until I felt the waistband pushing against my engorged dick, forcing it to bend downwards to accommodate the tight elastic. Soon only the head was covered and then I felt my dick snap upwards and slap me in the groin ... all three inches of it. Jeremy's breath came out all in a rush and he was just staring at my dick ... and staring at my dick ... and staring ...
My underwear hadn't traveled another inch and neither had my Jeremy's eyes ... until he raised his face and looked at me once again.
"You're beautiful Michael! You ... are ... so ... beautiful!"
I felt my eyes tearing up big time then. He couldn't have said anything more meaningful to me. He didn't call my dick 'nice' or say it was 'cute' ... he told me I was beautiful. I felt a tear slide down my cheek and I watched it drop onto my sweet Jeremy's cheek. I raised my hands up from his shoulders and cupped his angelic face. I pulled on him and he, taking the hint, raised up off his haunches and stood before me. Still holding his sweet face, I pulled him into me until his ... oh so soft, warm and flawless lips were touching mine ...
"SLAM" from downstairs, and then "MICHAEL ... Michael are you home?" 'Son-of-a-bitch ... its SUZZANE.'
I felt myself go into this panic mode. Jeremy, always the fast reacter, pushed me back and said ... "grab your clothes and run into the bathroom. I'll tell her you're in the shower."
He helped me scoop up my clothes, shoving them into my arms and, with my underwear still at half mast, and my dick at full mast, I ran for the bedroom door. Jeremy reached it a second before I did, popped it open and stuck his head out. Then he opened the door the rest of the way and, grabbing my shoulder, he pushed me out and down the hallway. Jeremy walked over to the railing and looked downstairs. As I was opening the bathroom door I heard him holler ...
"We're up here Suzzane. Michael's taking a shower."
With the door closed behind me I just dropped my clothes in a heap and leaned back against the sink. A huge whoosh of air escaped my lungs as I felt my heart pummeling in my chest. Oh my God ... that was so scarey. I don't ever remember being so frightened. Then I recalled how quickly Jeremy had reacted and rushed me out and down the hallway. My sweet Jeremy ... my little hero. I guess this tells me, once again, that he puts my welfare first.
I walk over to the tub and slide the glass shower door open. While starting the water and adjusting the temperature I am thinking about everything that has transpired in just the last few minutes. I glance down at my dick and I am still hard as a boulder ... well, a pebble anyway.
When I've adjusted the spray I step inside and slide the door closed. I just enjoy the warmth of the water easing my tensed muscles. A minute later I hear the bathroom door open and then quickly close again. I can see the wavy outline of Jeremy through the shower door as he approaches me. He stops, slides the door open just a bit and sticks his head inside.
"What's Suzzane doing?" I ask him.
"Relax Michael. She's downstairs talking on the phone."
And Jeremy's eyes and lips are smiling at me as he slowly looks me up and down. Had he done this a few days ago, I would have freaked out. I would have been screaming at him to get the hell out and give me my privacy. Now however, I just felt myself smiling back at him, giving him a show.
"So do you like what you see?" I ask him.
"No" he responds, and I feel my heart drop. "I love what I see. I absolutely love everything I see right now. And ... right now, I absolutely hate your stinking sister ... giggle, giggle."
"Yeah" I respond, giggling back, "she sure has some sense of timing doesn't she?"
We are both chuckling now at what had been a frightening experience just a few minutes ago. I can feel my heart touching his and my soul swells ... I have never felt more alive or more in love.
"Well, OK" he says. "Guess I'll wait in your room in case Suzzane wanders upstairs to her bedroom. Don't take forever huh?"
I just nod my head, my mouth too full of my heart to speak. Jeremy slides the shower door closed and kind of skips over to the bathroom door, giggling the whole distance. I think my boyo is feeling as light hearted as I am.
I finish my shower, dry off and slip my clothes back on. As I walk past Suzzane's room, heading for my own, I decide to run downstairs first and see what my sister is up to. I want to know that I can have a little alone time with Jeremy in my room without fear of her sticking her nose in the door. As I get to the bottom of the steps I can hear her talking on the kitchen phone. I can tell by her 'Valley Girl' talk that it must be one of her empty headed cheer leading friends on the other end.
"Oh I know, Tiff" I hear her say. "They say it was some kind of glue in his shampoo bottle."
I froze on the bottom step when I heard this. She could only be talking about one thing - SAMMY BOY! I turned around and ran back upstairs.
"Jeremy" I said, as I stuck my head into my bedroom door.
He glanced up from reading a comic book while sitting on my bed.
"Come down stairs with me. Suzzane is on the phone with a vacuum-head and talking about SAMMY!"
Jeremy bounded from the bed and dropped the comic book on his way to the door.
"What's she saying" he asks as we vault our way down the stairs. I just turn back to him and give him a shushing gesture with my finger to my lips. As we approach the kitchen we can hear her end of the conversation.
"They tried" she was saying "and they used everything they could think of to dissolve the glue but nothing worked. I think they made it worse. The top of his head is like this sticky, ugly glob ... eww!"
Suzzane was twirling her front lock of hair around a finger in her typical, empty, phone-yakking gesture. She was snapping her gum and looking at us as we sauntered casually into the kitchen, pretending hunger. Her ear was glued to the phone receiver the way it normally is. She looked away from us (after all it's just the geeks), and leaned over the snack bar, absorbed in her conversation.
Meanwhile I gathered the stuff to build a couple of pb & j sandwiches.
"Yeah ... " she giggled. "Like a Ronald McDonald fright wig! And he was so cute too ... I was even thinking about going out with him! Not now though ... because he looks absolutely hideous. I do have a reputation to protect you know."
Jeremy and I just grinned at one another as we listened to this one-sided conversation and whipped a couple of sandwiches together. Suzzane was off on another topic now and so I walked to the fridge to grab a jug of milk. Jeremy got a couple of glasses from the cupboard and, of course, a bag of potato chips. That boy can't eat pb & j without sticking potato chips in his sandwich.
Just then Suzzane's own cell phone began to ring.
"I'll talk to you later Tiff, my cell's ringing." And she hangs up the kitchen receiver. She glanced down at her caller ID and then puts the phone to her ear. All this while she is leaving the kitchen and heading towards the stairway and her bedroom.
"Yeah, yeah Barb, I know, I was there."
On the stairway now she giggles and says ...
"He just crammed a baseball cap on his head and slinked out the back door."
Any further conversation was lost as she made her way to her bedroom. I just looked over to Jeremy, he looked at me and then we busted up. Oh my God! Sandwich in one hand, we looped our other arms together and danced around in a circle. Jeremy was singing around a mouthful of sandwich ...
"Sammy and Suzzane, sitting in a tree, f - u - c - k - i - n - g." And we howled.
"I don't know Jer." I said, between stomach spasms, " I don't think that boy is going to get anywhere near Suz for awhile ... or any other girl for that matter." And we were near collapsing from laughter. Jeremy had to spit his mouthful of sandwich onto the counter so he didn't choke to death.
I was watching him and feeling slightly ornery, remembering what he did to me last time we shared sandwiches in Potter's field. He had me spraying bread, pb & j and coke all over the rock ... and himself. Jeremy got his second wind and took another bite; I gave him a minute and then ...
"So, Sammy has a Ronald McDonald fright wig now eh?"
Jeremy lost it; he sprayed all over the kitchen floor.
"Har ... har ... har." snort, giggle.
We were off and running again. He would laugh and that would set me off and then I would laugh and it would set him off. Finally Jeremy just held his sandwich up and said ...
"We aren't going to get to eat these are we Mic?"
I just shook my head no, grinning like a pig in a pile of poop.
We walked over to the sink and just crammed what was left of our sandwiches down the garbage disposal. Jeremy cleaned his laughter debris off the floor and counter while I turned on the water and ran the disposal. Oh well, the sandwiches were just an excuse to come down to the kitchen and eavesdrop on Suzzane anyway.
Jeremy stuck his hand out towards me and I realized he wanted me to slip my hand into it - so I did. He grasped onto me and gently tugged me towards the stairway. 'Looks like we are going up to my room. Hmm, what do you suppose wonder boy has in mind?' We couldn't do much, not with Suzzane here, but I think I had some unfinished business with Jeremy's lips. And the way he kept looking back at me, grinning, he was thinking the same thing.
Jeremy opened my door and guided me through it, closing it behind us.
"I think, Michael, that you and I are going to have to invest in some locking door knobs for our bedrooms."
"I think you're right" I grinned back at him.
He tugged me over to the bed, turned me by the shoulders and gave me a push. I fell backwards onto the bed, my feet just off the floor. Jeremy sat alongside me, leaning on his right arm while he placed his left hand gently on my stomach. He started making little swirling motions with his hand on my belly. All the while he had this dreamy, happy look on his face as he stared into my eyes. I'm pretty sure that my own face reflected that look. Then I saw his eyes tear up all of a sudden and, just that quick, the tears were rolling down his cheeks. His lips were quivering. He lay his head down on my chest, pushed his arms underneath my shoulders and just clung to me really tightly.
Funny how that works. Now my own water works were flowing. I placed my left hand in the small of his back and started rubbing him the way he had rubbed my belly. With my right hand I reached over and pulled off his glasses, setting them down on the bed away from us. Then I started to caress his cheek and run my fingers through his hair. And all this while I was crying and making these soft shushing sounds to try and comfort him. His answer was to raise his head and kiss me gently on my cheek. Oh ... that took my breath away! Then another kiss and another and soon his lips were softly traveling around my face with little kisses. His tears dripped on my face as his lips pecked their loving route ... leaving no area of my face unkissed. My own tears were running in little rivulets from the edges of my eyes, down my temples and trailing to the back of my neck. Slowly, his tears eased up and he raised his head a little to look into my eyes ... such a sweet, gentle and loving smile. I felt like I was hovering above the mattress. He was looking at me like I was the most important and loved thing in his life. And I just wrapped my arms around him and then I wrapped my heart around him and held him close. He lowered his lips on top of mine and we, slowly, practiced that age old lover's drama of the tongue caress. Our tongues did the Samba and then the Tango and then a bitter-sweet waltz. I sucked his tongue like a miniature erection and he shoved his tongue deep into my mouth as though he were trying to burst my hymen.
By now Jeremy was laying on top of me and my hands were exploring his shoulders, his arms, his back ... his sweet butt. I took a double hand full of those wondrous boy cheeks and squeezed them, pulling him hard against me. Jeremy's groin crushed against my own and he started spastically twitching his hips back and forth. He pulled away from my lips and pressed his cheek against my own and I heard him wheezing, moaning in my ear. He made four or five groin thrusts against me and then he started shaking and cried out ...
"Oh my God, Michael ... oh, Michael ... ohh ... ohh ... oh!" And then my sweet boy just sank down, his tensed muscles slowly relaxing - his breathing returning to normal. I knew what had just taken place. Sexual neophyte that I was, I recognized his orgasm. I just continued to hold him close and rub his back and shoulders. I felt so mellow and complete because I caused this thing for him. I gave him this immense pleasure and that, in itself, gave me such immense pleasure in return. My right hand went back to playing with his hair and stroking his cheek. Whenever my hand got close to his mouth he would reach over and kiss my fingers.
All this and, aside from his orgasm, not a word had passed either of our lips. We had been busy speaking a much older and concise language. It was a body language that didn't need any interpretation because it was communication on the most basic of levels ... it was the language of eros. And, without a single language lesson, we were able to converse just fine. What we didn't know ... didn't matter. We didn't feel as though we were missing anything. In fact the whole world was complete. I wasn't feeling the need of an orgasm of my own. We had just shared our first together and it didn't matter that it was Jeremy's and not mine ... it was ours. Sammy could have burst into that room and stabbed us both to death right then and it wouldn't have mattered a bit. My life was fulfilled and every Christmas and birthday had just been celebrated in that one short orgasm. I felt myself drifting to sleep, the most luxurious boy blanket resting atop of me.
I don't think I slept very long. I was awakened by a hand inside my shorts and, indeed, inside my underwear as well. Jeremy was cupping my small handful and making little squeezing motions with his hand. It didn't take my button long to stretch out its full 3 inch length. I was still lying with my feet hanging over the side of the bed. Jeremy had moved perpendicular to me, his feet resting at the head of my bed. He was leaning on his left elbow and his right hand was deep inside my pants. He was looking up at me, smiling, waiting for me to wake up. Well, I was awake, and so was 'little' Michael.
Jeremy gathered his knees underneath him and, kneeling, he used his left hand to start undoing my pants. I glanced over at my door and then looked, worriedly, at Jeremy.
"It's all right. I heard the front door slam. She went somewhere." He told me.
I just smiled at him and left him to his own devices, my little button all excited by his ministrations. He got my snap undone and the zipper pulled down. He slid off the bed and stood between my knees. Michael grasped my shorts at the bottom of the legs and started tugging. I raised my butt off the bed to accommodate him. The shorts fell into a heap at my feet. Michael bent down and was kissing me through my underwear. I had to grab a double handful of bedspread and gasp. I had never been touched this way. Hell, I had never been touched in any way ... not there. He was blowing his hot breath through the fabric of my underwear and against my dick and balls! I don't know what books this boy's been reading but he has picked up a few tricks somewhere. Now he's using his lips and teeth to just nip at me ... not hard or anything, but I feel my dick swelling up like an over-pumped blood pressure cuff. He lays his lips lengthwise against the underside of my peter and he's humming, softly. It isn't a sound I can really hear but the vibrations of his lips are unbelievable. In ten or fifteen seconds the muscles in my stomach are twitching and my butt cheeks are clenching and I hear this tremendous roar in my ears as the mother of all orgasms starts at my toes and rips up through my insides! My whole body is jerking like I'm having an epileptic seizure. I'm making these nonsense sounds that I couldn't repeat to you if I tried.
'Oh my God ... oh my God ... ' I'm thinking. 'And he never even took off my underwear.'
Can this even technically be called sex? I mean, they were still dressed for gosh sakes. I know ... I'm just whining because I was wrong. Jeremy got into Michael's pants after all. Who woulda figured? But then, it kinda seems like Michael was ready ... oh boy ... he was ready. And oh boy ... I gotta tent of my own!
Well, let's all go take a cold shower and we can meet at my place later for dinner. I'm at email@example.com . Don't be late and bring some wine. I have to go take a wank.
Copyright February 2007. All rights retained. No duplication without author's permission. No posting on another web site without approval. No ... not without a condom.