Life Mike True Love

**Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional. Any names

• given in this story are completely imaginary although some

• characters are based on actual people. The events described

• here never took place and any similarities to actual

• occurrences are completely coincidental. If you are offended

• by sexual relationships between teenage males, you should

• probably not read this. I would include a clause here about

• under-aged people viewing this document but those of them that

• get this far aren't going to stop here. Use good judgment. **Distribution: This story may be archived and distributed freely

• but only if unaltered. This segment must remain as well as

• the text at the bottom. I would also appreciate an e-mail

• stating where it is being posted but that is not totally

• necessary. **Comments: This was intended to be as much a love story as

• anything else. A lot of thought went into this story, if you

• enjoy it you may mail me at clarke99@flash.net. Comments are

• appreciated and I will reply to any I receive. Flames will be

• ignored and deleted. It may start off slow, this is my first

• post. Enjoy.

Life, Mike, and a First Taste at True Love

By Paul Clarke

4/17/98 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We had moved to Tucson the week before I started school there. It was a calm Thursday morning in the middle of March when I stepped out of the car and into the arms of Sahuaro High School. After living in Montana for the first sixteen years of my life I was ready for the change but not pleased about leaving my friends behind.

My first impression of Sahuaro was somewhat barren. Grass school grounds inside the campus were replaced by solid floors and the dry sports fields were unpleasant to look at but it was my first day of school and I was determined to make the best of it.

Walking across the campus, I noticed a huge lack of students. A quick check of my watch told me I was a good five minutes early for the school day, which I understood to begin at 7:34. Where was everyone? I pulled out my schedule and campus map and walked to my first class: Algebra.

"Uh, my name is Ryan and I'm in your first period class, I think.." I mumbled to Mrs. Perkins as I walked to the front of the room.

"Hi, Ryan," she replied as she pulled out a seating chart.

"This might seem like a stupid question, but why isn't anyone here. Shouldn't school be starting right now?" I asked. She smirked at me slightly and picked up a time schedule.

"We have conference periods on Wednesday and Thursday. Classes don't start until 8:40 and you have periods 1, 2, and 3 on Wednesday and periods 2, 4, and 6 on Thursday," she answered. I blushed.

"Well I feel dumb. I knew I should have read the student handbook," I muttered as I turned to walk away.

"Hey we all make mistakes. First day?" a voice asked from behind as I walked toward the door. I turned around and found myself facing the most gorgeous boy I had ever met. I walked stopped for a minute.

"Yeah. I just moved here," I said, still embarrassed by mixing up the schedule.

"My name is Mike," he said. His look was almost inviting me to sit down. I did.

"Ryan," I introduced. "Are you in Mrs. Perkins' class?"

"Yeah. First period. I just came in here to finish my homework," he answered.

"Me, too. So is it easy?" I was hoping the class wouldn't be too tough, my algebra class back in Montana had been hell.

"Mostly. This FOIL stuff is confusing me, but I'll get through it. How long have you been here?" He was obviously trying to keep off of the subject of school.

"I moved here last Friday. From Montana," I replied.

"Cool. Cold even. I'd hate to live that far north," he said.

"Yeah. It's really hot here, though." Something I said must have been funny because he laughed at it. It might have been the comment about the temperature but I wasn't really paying attention. I was lost in his eyes. They were a light brown but had detail beyond anything that could be put into writing.

He said something but I didn't hear it. I wasn't aware at the time that I was staring as much as I was. He must have noticed.

"Hello? Ryan? What other classes do you have?" he asked loudly.

"Huh? Oh.." I pulled my schedule out of my pocket and read down the list. "Algebra.. P.E.. English.. Science.. Business tech.. Spanish.."

"Cool. Lemme see the schedule," he said. As he grabbed the wrinkled paper from my hand his fingers brushed against mine. They were sweating slightly but were soft. My eyes widened for a split second and I turned away hoping he wouldn't notice.

"We have algebra, P.E., business tech, and Spanish together, bro. Neat," he said. I took the schedule back and folded it into my pocket. He asked, "You got clothes for P.E.?"

"Red and blue. Yeah. I bought some when I picked up my schedule," I replied.

My day had gone from awful to incredible. In my first thirty minutes I met the hottest guy on earth. He thought it's "neat" to have classes with me. He called me bro. He was in my P.E. class. I'd get to see him change his clothes. I said the first thing that came to mind.

"Do we have to shower in P.E.?" I asked hopefully. He shook his head.

"Naw, they don't do that here. None of it is hard work anyway. You got Mr. Barnes, that's volleyball. It's all indoors," he said. I was disappointed but managed a smile.

"You wanna go get a soda or something? Class doesn't start for another hour anyway," he asked. I nodded. It was the beginning of what I would hope to be a beautiful friendship.

Mike and I hung out at school every day for the next week. I did it because he was hotter than hell. His hair was a dirty blond and came down to about the center of his ears. It was shaved under so that it looked almost like a mop at times and the front was pulled back behind his ears. His face was slightly freckled and his nose turned up slightly. As I mentioned before, he had beautiful light brown eyes. He had braces on his teeth which were displayed when he stood with his jaw slightly open. I thought it was cute.

Mike was maybe two or three inches shorter than I was. That's ok, I like short guys. He was also fourteen months younger. I was a sophomore and he was a freshmen. Not the best possible combination in High School but I liked it. My hair was light brown and parted neatly in the middle of my head. I wasn't long but not short either. For the most part it was just there. I didn't do anything more than comb it in the morning.

Anyway, we were sitting in Spanish at the end of Friday waiting for the bell to ring. In the eight days since we'd met our friendship had grown beautifully but remained school-based. I didn't even have his phone number. That would change.

He looked down from the clock and asked, "Hey Ry, how do you get home from school?" It hadn't occurred to me that he was planning something. I was loaded on sugar and caffeine and was just wanting class to end.

"I drive. A Buick LeSabre," I mumbled, not looking over at him. My watch was somehow more interesting at the moment.

"Want to hang out this weekend?" he asked. I turned my head at that. Lights ignited inside me I was so overjoyed. I tried to hide it.

"I dunno. What do you want to do?" I asked.

"You could spend the night at my house tonight and we'll take it from there. Maybe go to Golf'n'Stuff or the mall or something. My mom won't care," he said.

"Sure," I said. I was ecstatic but tried to hide it. He was a friend and I would do anything to not ruin that. Sure he was cute but was he gay? I didn't exactly think so at the time but I sure as hell prayed.

"Good. You can drive me home then. I hate walking." He grinned. I smiled. The bell rang.

"Nice car, dude," he laughed. My LeSabre was nothing to look at. It was a bit rusty from Montana life and nine years old on top of that.

"Thanks Mike. You're walking," I said as I unlocked my door. I sat in the car and closed the door. He pounded on the window.

"I didn't mean it sarcastically. At least you have a car," he said. I pressed the unlock button. He jumped into the car and I started the engine. I turned to him and laughed.

"You think I'd make you walk? Without you I'd be trying to make friends with some other losers," I said. He punched me in the arm. It wasn't a real punch, just a response to my comment.

"So where'd you get this rust bucket?" he asked. Cars in Tucson were noticeably less rusted as the climate was drier and warmer.

"It was my dad's car. He got it used a few years back. He got a new car and gave me this one so I'd have something to drive to school," I answered. "We're going to my house first to pick up some shit."

"You're driving. Go where ever the hell you want," Mike replied. He was watching the surroundings as we cruised down the street, apparently trying to memorize the route to my house. It was only a couple miles away and not a hard path to learn.

We talked about school and life and things on the way to my house, but the subject of girls never once came up. He dressed kind of like a skater but said he didn't skate. That was ok, neither did I. I just thought skaters were hot. Good taste? I like to think so.

I parked in the driveway and Mike and I walked into my house. It was still a bit boxed as we'd only lived there two weeks but for the most part it was furnished. The vaulted ceilings made the living room look like it never stopped going.

"Nobody home?" Mike asked as was stumbled through the door. I shook my head.

"My mom works at the hospital and my dad is probably out job-hunting again. My sister is probably going to a friend's house. If not she'll be home in fifteen minutes," I replied.

"Cool. I wish I had a house like this," Mike said staring around. We headed for the kitchen and I tossed him a Pepsi.

"Thanks. Hey, here's a note: 'Ryan, Erin and I are at the mall. Be home later. Love, Dad.'" Mike looked a bit sad as he read it, but I wasn't sure why.

I moved closer to him and asked, "Something wrong?" He leaned on the counter and stared at the floor for a minute and then looked up at me.

"It's nothing. Really," he replied. We went to my room.

"Lets see, I'll need a change of clothes, a toothbrush.." I ran down the list replacing the books in my backpack for items for the night. I wrote a note and we left.

Mike's house was quaint, but nice. His mother had spent a lot of time decorating, I suppose. The decor showed a lack of travel interest. His family probably couldn't afford it. I noticed for the first time that his clothes weren't new. It hadn't occurred to me that his family wasn't as well-off as mine. I never really thought about it.

"Where are your parents?" I asked. It upset him somehow. There was obviously something wrong and despite the fact that I'd only known him a week, I had never seen him act so down.

"Parent. She's working, probably," Mike replied. He led me to his room and I tossed my bag in the corner. It wasn't clean, but it felt like home. We sat. His mood changed slightly but it felt like he was just trying to lighten the mood.

"Like my room?" he asked. I smiled in recognition of his attempt to entertain. The room was certainly a sight. His bed was small and unmade. He had kicked aside the clothing that was strewn on the floor. A 13-inch television topped by a Super Nintendo was poised precariously on his dressed and the drawers were hanging open.

"It's a nice.. habitat. Looks like my room would if I'd unpacked any of my shit," I said. He laughed.

I glanced around again briefly in an attempt to become more comfortable with the surroundings. His closet door was open and inside I could see a huge pile of items that had been tossed there for lack of better place. Poised in about the middle of the pile was a magazine displaying a man with no shirt on the front. I could make out some letters and could easily tell that it was filled with male pornography. I stared for a moment.

"Yeah, it's a mess isn't it?"

"Huh?"

"The closet. It's a wreck."

"Oh, yeah. I've seen worse," I said. Maybe he hadn't seen me looking at the magazine. He didn't comment and neither did I.

We spent the next few hours playing video games. It was mostly competition with Ultimate Mortal Kombat and some Street Fighter, but we went for the classics and played some Mario Brothers too. He glanced over at me occasionally, but I played little attention. I knew I made some funny faces while playing video games and figured he was just mocking me. I looked over at him almost just as often, but for a totally different reason. I wanted to look at him as much as possible. It was one of those times when one just can't stop staring.

We were probably on world three or four of Super Mario Brothers when Mike reached over and turned off the Super Nintendo. I set down the controller and looked over at him. He was obviously frustrated as he sat with his head resting against his arm and his elbow being supported by his knee. I turn to face him completely.

"Mike.." I began. He lifted his head up and looked me right in the eye and a tear ran down his face. "Mike, what's wrong?"

"Is something wrong with me? Is that it?" he asked. His frustration was almost anger but it was also sadness. I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"What?" I asked.

"I seen you staring at guy in the locker room and I saw you looking at the magazine in my closet and I seen you stare at me," he said. This just added to the confusion. "Is something wrong with me?"

"You.. I.. What?" I could do nothing but studder. He caught me totally by surprise.

"I know you like guys, Ryan. I see you staring all the time," Mike said. His face was half-covered with tears by that point.

"If you're worried that I'm going to try to pick you up or something I won't," I said, trying to help.

"Why the hell not? What's wrong with me?" he asked. This took me almost totally by surprise. I had never seen him so emotional and was already so confused by his actions that it didn't make sense.

"No nothing's wrong with you. Do you want me to hit on you?" I asked. It probably wasn't the best reply but it was all I had. I moved next to him and put my arm around him. It was meant to be friendly more than anything but I'm not sure he took it that way.

"I just really like you, Ryan, and I need someone who can feel the same way about me," he said. He lifted his head and looked over at me.

"I do. I've been completely dazed since the first time I looked in your eyes back in Mrs. Perkins' classroom. I'm just not good at making the first move," I replied sheepishly. Anyone who has ever told anyone how they really feel knows how hard it can be.

"It's usually the guy's job," Mike said. A smile formed on his face as he sat there looking at me. "But I figured since we're both guys it was your job."

"Yeah so you wanna go out.. like as a couple or something?" I asked. I hadn't had a real relationship since before I actually admitted to myself that I was gay. Hell before that I didn't date much anyway. I was too young. I had some girlfriends back in sixth grade but that was the beginning of middle school and I was just in it to be more "normal." It was really something new.

"I thought you'd never ask," Mike replied. I realized I was holding my breath and let it out somehow more easily as he said that.

"We've known each other a week, Mike," I said sarcastically.

"I'm impatient. You gonna kiss me or is it my turn to make a move?" I smiled. In just a few minutes this emotional wreck had become a normal, joking teenager.

My smile became a smirk as I moved closer and pressed my lips to his. His tears had run across them so the taste was a bit salty. They were also cold. Mike had commented at lunch once that he'd never actually kissed someone and it had been so long since I had that we just kind of improvised. I tilted my head slightly and he replied with a similar motion. I cracked open my mouth and began to explore. I realized he was perfectly matching my actions and took advantage of it. That was probably the most passionate moment of my life to that point.

We were locked in an embrace for what felt like it could have been decades. It was only a few minutes, but it was something we both needed. Both totally shocked, we tore away from each other and leaned back against the bed.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Mike sighed. He looked down again in a sad manner. I put my arm around him and rested my hand on his shoulder.

"It's ok," I answered.

"You don't understand. My life is just so.. confusing right now," he said. I never really had to deal with problems myself because my life had been easy, or so I had been told. I didn't understand how he really felt.

"Wanna talk about it?" I asked. I was doing my best to support a friend and was afraid I wouldn't be able to help.

"Yeah. My dad died last month in a car accident. He and I were kinda close and it's just hard to deal with," he confided. Suddenly it all fit.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's not your fault, you know."

"It is, though. I.." A tear dropped from his eye as he stared at the floor. His voice had trailed off suddenly like he didn't want to talk about it, but I knew he did.

"If you don't want to talk about it it's ok. I know this shit isn't always easy to deal with. My uncle died when I was eleven and I remember how my mom felt about it." My response could have been better, I suppose, but I wanted to give him something to cling onto.

"I didn't want to hide anything from him. I told him I was gay and he just kind of left the house," Mike said. It was possibly the saddest voice anyone could ever use.

"You can't blame yourself," I said. We just sat there, my arm around him, for an hour or two. It was the most support I could give.

"Mike, honey, I'm home," came a woman's voice from the hall. It pulled us both out of the trance we had been in sitting there on the floor. Mike glanced in the mirror briefly to clean himself up before walking to greet his mother. I followed.

"Mom this is Ryan Zimmerman. He's staying the night," Mike introduced. His mom looked to be in her late thirties. She had eyes rather similar to Mike's and her hair was dark brown. She had a look characteristic of a single mother, I thought. I extended a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Roberts," I said.

"Jamie." She shook my hand. I smiled. She led us into the kitchen in an attempt to make me feel more welcome. We talked about how Mike and I met at school and my old school back in Montana and things like that. Then came the subject I really hadn't planned on discussing.

"Anyway, Mom, Ryan and I are kinda dating and I figured you should meet him," Mike said. I expected her to drop the spoon she was holding but Jamie just kept stirring the macaroni noodles in the pan.

"It's nice that you finally found someone who can put up with you, hon," she joked. A smile crossed her face as she looked up for a reply from her son.

Mike didn't stop to think of a snappy come-back. "Funny, mom. How was your day at work?" It seemed to do the trick. Her expression changed.

"Awful. It's more work than any person should ever have to do and they don't pay enough," she answered.

"Mom's a receptionist downtown," Mike commented. His mother went on to complain about her job and how they give her too much work until dinner was done.

The macaroni and cheese were all right considering they had come out of a Kraft box. The impression I got from the house was that they ate a lot of food like that. It became clear that Mr. Roberts had brought home most of the money and without him they were left to fend for themselves.

All in all the night went smoothly and we spent most of the weekend at the mall. Sunday evening I was driving the long stretch home from the Tucson Mall on the northwest side of the city to Mike's house on the northeast side when I made a huge decision.

"I'm going to tell my mom," I said. I looked briefly to Mike for a response.

"You sure? That can be a huge thing for a parent to accept," he replied.

"Her brother is gay. I guess it runs in the family," I said, trying to convince myself. "She'd be the best person to start with, I think."

"Maybe you're right. What about Erin?" he asked. I hadn't even thought about telling her.

"She and I are pretty close. I suppose I should. Mom first, though."

"Go for it then. I guess it'd make things easier for us that way."

I agreed completely but no matter how much I wanted to I couldn't think of a good way to say it. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind at once and I began to wonder. Would she be disappointed? Would she accept it? Would she be angry? I honestly didn't know.

"I'm home!" I shouted as I walked through the door that linked the house to the garage. My mother was standing over the sink washing dishes.

"You don't have to shout, I'm right here," she said. Her calm voice always bothered me. My mother was a small woman, making it that much more intimidating. I had to tell a sweet little 39-year-old lady the biggest secret I'd ever had. It was nerve-wracking.

"Dad and Erin?" I asked, secretly hoping they weren't home.

"They're at the grocery store getting some dinner," Mom replied. It was a good sign.

"Can we talk, Mom?" I said it in such an anxious voice that she knew something was up. She rinsed the soapy water off her hands and dried them on a towel. We sat at the table.

"What is it, Ry?" she asked. I looked her right in the eye and swallowed nervously.

"Mom, I'm gay," I said. It may sound simple but that was likely the hardest thing I ever said to her. She put her hand on mine and I knew she understood.

"I'm glad you feel that you can tell me that, Ryan," she said. I nodded. It was too hard to talk. "Do you want to talk to a professional or something? It's not always easy to deal with at your age."

I shook my head.

"Have you told anyone else?" she asked. She was doing her best to offer support but it was apparent that I had inherited my own talent (or lack thereof) at it from her. She was as lost as I was with Mike on Friday.

"Mike's mom," I replied. Mom understood.

"I'm happy for you," she said. "Are you planning to tell Erin?"

"I'd like to. It's just not easy. It's hard enough to be a teenager as it is. Maybe I'll tell Dad."

She frowned and her look turned to concern. "To be completely honest with you, Ryan, I don't think you should tell your father."

My mood turned sour. I hadn't thought past telling my father. His possible reaction was not yet fully developed in my mind. Uncle Theo, on my mother's side of the family, was the first person who came to mind. Uncle Theo was gay and every time we'd been on vacation near his house we'd visit and Dad would stay at the hotel. Hell, we could have stayed at Uncle Theo's house and not even had to pay for a hotel. It was big enough. Something clicked in my mind. Could Dad really be that homophobic though? I was suddenly not sure about anything.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. On the third ring Mom stood up and answered it. It was Mike.

"What's up?" he greeted as I put the phone to my ear.

"Nothing. What are you doing?" I asked.

"Did you tell her yet?"

I looked up at Mom and said, "Yeah."

"You don't sound too happy," was Mike's response. He was right. I didn't sound happy. "Listen, my mom is at work for two hours. You wanna come over?"

"Sure. I'll be there in five," I replied. Mike had a way of taking my mind off of things. I think it was his eyes. Or maybe it was his boyish features. Either way I'd chose seeing him over talking to Mom any day.

"Come in!" was the response to my knock on the door. I turned the knob and entered the surprisingly clean house. Mike was nowhere in sight. "I'm in my room," he shouted.

I could have fainted as I walked through his bedroom door. The pigsty I had left him in just half an hour before was transformed. It was a palace at least.

"You cleaned your room?" I asked in astonishment.

"I was bored. Mom wanted me to clean up and I figured here was a good place to start. The closet is still a mess but I figured I'd rather have you here than do chores," he explained. Something about him was different, too. He was shaking nervously. What was he up to? I nodded in acknowledgement of his reasoning. He tossed me a handkerchief.

"What's this for?" I asked.

"Tie it over your eyes," he replied. It was more of an order than anything. I like people who take charge like that and I think he knew that. I complied. The dark cloth made it nearly impossible to see and he quickly fixed it to make me totally blind. He led me to the bed.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

"Don't ask stupid questions Ryan. We're having fun. I told you I was bored," he replied. I was quickly forced to lay on the bed. His actions were turning me on. Maybe he knew that, maybe he didn't. Either way I was anxious to see what evil plans he had in store.

Mike stopped making noise. I was stretched across his bed with my hands folded behind my head. The anxiety built quickly and the cool air of the room began to bother me. I soon forgot all about it. My shirt was tugged up so that it no longer covered my chest and stomach. I think Mike was waiting for a reaction but I didn't move.

A finger ran across my stomach and up my chest. It tickled as it spun around my bare flesh and I might have made a small noise as it flickered across my left nipple. Soon the finger was replaced by a tongue. It was warmer and produced a sensation more erotic than I could possibly have imagined it would. This was getting interesting.

I have to give him credit. Mike really acted like he knew what he was doing although I know he was just guessing. He could probably see by the growing bulge in my pants that I was enjoying what he was doing.

His tongue alternated between running across my chest to circling my nipples. It ran up to my sternum and then raced down across my navel and to the elastic waistband of my boxers. My jeans, which were loosely fit, were probably another two inches below there. I wasn't really paying attention.

The seismic waves of pleasure his tongue alone were sending through my body were phenomenal. I was not sure what had gotten into Mike. He had been so shy before and suddenly he blindfolds me and starts exploring. I had stopped to think about it for a second because his tongue had stopped at my boxers. Speculation rolled through my mind until I was surprised by a blast of cool air to my groin.

I had not been paying attention and missed what had happened completely. Mike had moved so swiftly that I didn't know what happened. My boxers and jeans were down and I was laying on the bed fully exposed.

Before I could even think to protest Mike's warm tongue gracefully flowed across the shaft of my throbbing cock. My teenage organ was at full attention as his mouth caressed its seven inches. It was a new experience and I liked it.

Mike's tongue flicked across my glans briefly and then ran back down my shaft and stopped there briefly. Before I could collect my thoughts about it he was massaging my balls with his mouth. It was intense like nothing I'd ever imagined. I could have came right there. I had no idea that it was about to get better.

I shuddered as Mike's cold hand pulled my hard-on into his mouth. His teeth scraped briefly on the head is it entered. Mike probably felt my reaction to that as he was more careful. I couldn't quite see it but I think on the first attempt my cock made it about two inches into his mouth. He wrapped his lips tightly over it and placed his tongue against the shaft.

I let out an erotic moan as Mike pulled his head up and then ran it back down again. I was certainly aware that he was trying to get more into his mouth but I paid little attention. It was probably on the fourth dip that I felt a tiny gag in the back of his throat. It triggered more pleasure for me but he pulled up fast. I thought he might release my dick on that rise but the boy was determined. He just kept going.

"Oh God," I moaned. With most of my cock inside his mouth and the fast-moving action of his head I was completely in his control. "Oh yeah," I moaned. It wasn't a whole minute into the activity when I felt a familiar sensation begin to grow.

"Mike, I'm going to.. uh.." I studdered. He pulled off and I instantly regretted telling him. His hand ran up my member and he proceeded to jack me off for all three seconds that it took me to reach orgasm after that. Some six blasts of my wad slammed vigorously into my stomach and surrounding areas.

"Sorry, I just didn't want to swallow yet. It would be moving too fast for me," Mike apologized.

"We've been going out for all of this weekend. How much faster could you move?" I asked sarcastically. I couldn't see the look on his face but I'm sure he smirked at that.

I had come and thought the experience was over. Mike had removed his hand from my shrinking cock and I assumed he was wiping it up. I was wrong.

As fast as it he had ended the action he resumed. I found it strangely erotic to have my newfound lover licking my jizm from my body. He lapped it up like an overheated dog with a dish of fresh water. It turned me on.

"That was intense, Mike," I said, still shocked. "How often have you done that."

"Done that? Never. I just wanted to have a little fun," he said. I tore off the blindfold and looked at him in shock. He was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You can't be serious," I mouthed. He nodded. "That was like.. like a religious experience."

"Yeah well I tried my best," he replied. "My mom'll be home soon, you better get dressed."

Something about Mike's voice connoted distinct disappointment. He was looking at his alarm clock.

"How long?" I asked.

"Fifteen minutes."

A slight grin crossed my face. He was standing up at that point and I fell to my knees before him. He wasn't getting time to respond from me. Not after what he just did to me. I pulled his pants open and ripped down his jeans and orange boxers. His cock was slightly smaller than mine, probably six inches or so. There was a distinct patch of brown hair over it and his balls dangled handsomely below. I had never actually seen another guy's penis first-hand and it was beautiful.

"Oh," was the noise that escaped Mike's lips as I took his cock into my mouth. I was determined to start off right and let it go as far in as I could. From the kneeling angle it wasn't easy. I got a good half-way down before I felt inclined to pull out. I stopped briefly.

It felt.. well.. it felt unique. His cock was throbbing in my mouth. It may have been a thin, six-inch prick but it felt huge--and warm. Having a giant probe in my mouth was definitely a curious sensation. I remembered how it felt when he pressed his tongue against my own dick in addition to his lips and realized my tongue was pulled back at the base of my mouth. I quickly solved that.

With his member in my mouth I explored it with my tongue. He moaned intensely as I did so and proceeded to caress my hair. He wanted more. I could taste precum. The salty tang flavor was not unfamiliar as I had on more than one occasion tasted my own, but it was somehow sweeter. It was Mike's.

Being careful with my teeth, I pulled my head back until I felt the head of Mike's cock against the end of my tongue and moved forward. I repeated the movement slowly several times, each time attempting to get more in my mouth. Never having given a blow job before I made the attempt scientifically.

On one thrust I felt the boy's pubic hair tickle my nose. That was far enough; time for the real thing. I increased my pace and was met by Mike's bucking hips.

"Oh God, Ryan, that feels good," he moaned. I thought it unfair that he could get out whole sentences while I had struggled with syllables. I moaned slightly in response, liking the feeling of his manhood rubbing against my tongue.

"Ryan I'm going to cum.." Mike wasn't going to get a whole sentence out on this one. His muscles shook and tensed and his cock pulsed as his warm juice splashed against my throat. There were at least five blasts before the hot jets cooled to a cool drizzle. I licked up the last of it and stood.

"That was incredible," was all he could say. I winked in acknowledgement. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

This is actually my first story and I do intend to write more, possibly continuing with these characters. Input would be appreciated. I value plot lines in stories rather highly as well as good composition. As stated at the top of this document, my e-mail address is clarke99@flash.net. Just for the record, I've never given a blow job on my knees. I tried to guess at that one, but I imagine it's similar to other positions. I hope you enjoyed this little story. - Paul