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. Enjoy.

Life, Mike, and a First Taste at True Love

Part II

By Paul Clarke

4/19/98 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life was looking up. I had lived in Tucson, Arizona a mere two weeks and already found a group of friends and an interesting relationship. In the week that I had known Mike sparks had flown between us. He had proven already that he was an ambitious young man in blindfolding me and giving me the best blow job of my life. There were just some small problems.

In telling my mother about my feelings towards men I had first opened a line of communication, then broke it. Her words would echo in my head for the rest of my life, I'm sure. "I don't think you should tell your father." The road ahead was bleak. Dad was homophobic and Mom didn't think it was safe to tell him. I decided to make the best of it.

"Get off the phone Ryan," came the usual nagging voice from the other side of the door. I looked briefly in the direction of the disturbance.

"Hold on, Mike," I excused myself and placed the phone against my shirt to muffle sound. "What do you want Erin?"

"You've been on the phone for two hours. It's my turn. I need to call George," my little sister whined. Maybe little isn't the best word. She's just younger. Erin was fourteen at the time and I was sixteen. She was a freshman at Sahuaro High School that year. I suppose, having just moved into the area, it was probably harder for her to make friends. Might as well just give her the phone.

"Mike I gotta go. Erin needs the phone," I apologized. He loved hearing my voice, or so he says.

"Aww, why? Make her wait. You're killing me here," he replied. I didn't want to hang up any more than he did.

"Sorry. See ya at school tomorrow," I said and turned off the phone. I got up from my seat on the edge of my bed and placed the white cordless phone on the charger. I heard the familiar sounds of dialing in the next bedroom.

Something about Erin always bugged me. She and I were pretty close because she was only sixteen months younger than I but she could get real bitchy when she wanted her way. Generally speaking, she was the smarter sibling. When I had trouble with school work she would always be able to help. I envied that occasionally.

I stood and exited my slovenly room. The hall was empty. No sign of the cat or either parent. The only noise came from Erin's room. I stood at her open doorway. She laying on her bed and talking on the phone.

"Make it quick, Erin. I need to talk to you," I said. Now was as good a time as any to tell her my big secret. She should probably know.

"Whatever," she mumbled, glancing briefly in my direction. Her telephone conversation continued.

This could take a while, I thought silently to myself. I walked into the living room and sat on the couch. Maybe there was something on TV.

I was almost thrown from my seat as I pressed the power button on the remote control. Somebody had been watching MTv and didn't have the sense to turn the volume down when she was done. I glared in the direction of my sister's bedroom and adjusted the volume. At least the song was good. It was N'Sync singing "I Want You Back." I watched it simply to stare at the blond singer. I'm not sure what's up with blonds but I don't think there are many I can resist. He was certainly attractive.

Thirty and some odd minutes of music videos, cartoons and news passed before Erin walked out into the living room. She sat down on the opposite end of the couch and snatched the remote control from the center where I had laid it.

"So what did you want to talk about?" she asked. Now off the phone with George or whoever she had been talking to her attitude mellowed out enough that I could have a serious conversation.

"Erin, I'm gay," I said. My eyes turned from the screen to look for a response from her. She turned and looked at me with a confused eyebrow raised.

"What?" she asked. She had a tendency to double-check things people said when she wasn't really paying attention. Thanks, sis.

"I'm gay. You heard me," I said. She turned off the television and sat cross-legged facing me.

"And this concerns me how?" she asked. That's my sister for you. She's more egotistical than I could ever hope to be.

"I just figured you should know. You're my favorite sister and all," I said. She was somehow easy to talk to even if I did think she wasn't listening most of the time.

"Ok. So? What do you want me to do, stand up and applaud?" she asked sarcastically. This time I caught a note of humor in her voice. It made me feel better.

"Well you could start by being supportive," I snapped back. Two could play at this game.

"I could hook you up with some guy at school," she offered. I smiled. The conversation that ensued was sketchy.

"Sorry, I'm spoken for."

"You move fast."

"I try."

"Who is it then?"

"Mike."

"Ooh, he's cute."

"Yeah. I got him first, back off." The humor in that was somehow unbearable. Erin broke out laughing. I felt relieved to have told her. It made life so much easier.

School on Tuesday was less than up to par. There was a test in Algebra that I wasn't ready for and I ended up reading answers from the paper of the girl sitting next to me. It was a difficult task because not only did Mrs. Perkins have an eagle-eye, but the desks were placed far apart in the over-sized room. Still, I had little choice.

P.E. was ok, but a ball hit me in the head and I had a headache afterwards.

English was miserable. The first class of the day that I don't share with Mike and it was never fun. The side of the room where I sat had a perfect view of all the girls in the class. That'd be great if I was straight. Mrs. Praters wasn't all that exciting of a teacher, either.

English did have one redeeming quality, however: Lunch came next. At lunch I grabbed a bottle of Mr. Pibb and a ham and cheese sandwich from the snack cart and went to the table to join Mike, Jim, Sean, and Dave for lunch. I walked in during Mike's recount of second period.

"Yeah, he was just standing there staring at the clock and the ball hit him in the forehead," he said, slapping his hands together to simulate impact. I rubbed my head and sat down.

"Still hurts, too," I said. The group erupted into laughter after the tale. Somehow my physical pain was their idea of a joke.

"So you guys wanna hang at Golf'n'Stuff this weekend? Chris and I are going Friday after school and decided it should be a group thing," Jim offered. Mike looked over at me.

"You wanna go, Ry?" he asked.

"Sure," I responded with a smirk. "It's a date."

Dave, who was sitting next to my left, punched me lightly in the arm. "Fag," he said. I couldn't tell whether or not it was meant to be sarcastic. I decided to leave it at that.

It was a rather long week. The end of Tuesday dragged on endlessly with Sean and Dave's lunchtime conversations about girls they found attractive. The rest of us joined in simply to humor our reputations at school but it seemed to me that only Sean and Dave really got into it.

Chris, who had been absent Tuesday, returned to school Thursday with a broken arm and bruises on his face. When I inquired as to the afflictions retrieved nothing more than a quick excuse and obvious resentment. I would soon learn the reason.

"Fight!" was the shout I heard. School had ended three minutes before and people were pooling in the courtyard for parting words with friends before going home. I assimilated myself into the pool of students to get a better look. Any teenager will tell you that fights are a highlighted group event.

I was ready to see a fight. I was not ready to see the combatants.

"Fag!" Sean shouted between blows to Jim's chest and side. His blows were causing bleeding against the concrete ground. Jim did little to fight back. He was powerless against the musclebound bully.

Jim's screams of terror left me little choice but to intervene. As many adults will attest to, children rarely think before acting. I didn't.

I moved swiftly into the small arena. I caught Sean's arm as it pulled back in an attempt to gain momentum for its next blow. I used his own surprise to knock him back and was aided by a spectator who pulled Jim from the fight.

"What the hell are you doing? He's a fucking faggot!" Sean shouted. My persistence in stopping him resulted in a swing to my face. His fist collided with my jaw without much power. His fatigue from the fight gave me an upper hand and an administrator stepped in as I attempted to restrain my adversary.

As far as I was concerned, the fight was over. Sean and I were taken to the nurse's office while Jim was taken to the hospital for his injuries. Sean continued to justify his actions with his ideas about Jim's sexuality. Witnesses got me off with a warning about involvement in fights and a bruised face.

It was a lot to think about. I found it hard to believe that people could be so arrogant as to fight over something like that. It was an uncomfortable feeling for me.

"What the hell does 'It's the nineties' mean?" I asked aloud as Mike, Chris and I drove down toward Tucson Medical Center Friday after school. Neither of them were old enough to drive but they wanted to visit their injured friend. I had volunteered.

"Huh?" Mike asked.

"Nothing. It just seems like everyone excuses activity with 'It's the nineties.' Everything goes, right? Now Sean figures out that Jim is gay and he beats the shit out him. They were supposed to be friends!" I said angrily. It seemed like nothing made sense any more.

"Sean's a bigot. Can't change him. Glad I wasn't there, I'm busted up enough already," Chris commented. Mike and I both smiled at the humor in his voice despite obvious anger.

"You want to talk about what happened to you, Chris? It's bad enough trying to deal with Jim and we know where his bruises came from," Mike said. He turned to look at Chris in the back seat.

"Can you guys keep a secret? I mean I don't want people in trouble over this one and it's mostly my fault." He was talking slowly and nervously. I knew Mike had been his friend for a long time and he'd probably tell him but there was more there.

"You know we can Chris. That's what friends are for," Mike said. I watched in the rear view mirror as a tear rolled down Chris' face.

"Chris, listen man, if this is something you don't want to talk about.." I trailed off.

"No. It's ok. It's just my mom and she has a lot of stress. I guess she just snapped when I told her.." and Chris trailed off. It's a great way to have a conversation, nobody finishing sentences.

"Geez, man, I don't ever remember her hitting you like that. What the fuck did you tell her?" Mike asked. Again, a tear from Chris.

"Well.. Jim and I are kind of.." The pieces fell together. "Well.. dating, I guess."

"She hit you because you're gay?" Mike asked. Now he was mad at Chris' mom. I could tell.

"Yeah, I guess. It's mostly the stress," Chris responded.

"Wow. My mom just told me not to tell my dad," I snickered in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"My mom offered to buy me condoms," Mike added, catching on.

"You guys are.." Chris began. There was the trailing thing again. He was still a bit teary.

"We eat fruit loops for breakfast," Mike joked. We shared a nice laugh as the car turned into a parking space in the hospital lot.

The receptionist directed us to Jim's room. We were informed that he had mostly broken bones and few other injuries. That was good news, I think.

"Hey, you came to visit!" he said enthusiastically. He was lying in a hospital bed recuperating. There was a little internal bleeding from the broken ribs jabbing into him but he was really healing well, we had been told.

"Yeah, it's the least we could do," I said.

"Other than breaking up that fight. Thanks Ryan," he said. It suddenly felt good to have helped someone.

"Jim I told Ryan and Mike," Chris said.

"And?" Jim asked. I think he was hoping we wouldn't beat him up, too. I laughed at the thought.

"And maybe we can double date sometime," Mike added.

"He always has the right thing to say, doesn't he?" I commented. Again, laughter was shared. I had a feeling our friendship was secure.

When I got home dinner was on the table. Erin, Mom and Dad were already sitting at the table eating. I washed my hands at the sink and sat.

"Sorry I'm late. I took Mike and Chris to see Jim at the hospital," I apologized.

"How is he?" Mom asked with concern.

"Broken, mostly. His ribs aren't looking very happy, but he'll be okay," I detailed. It didn't look to me like my family had been eating very long. Mom hated it when I was late for dinner, but at least I had an excuse.

"So you and Mike and who went?" Erin asked, trying to keep the conversation fueled.

"Chris," I responded.

"Oh. That's nice. Fruit salad?" She was offering me some food but that's not how I took her question. She smiled and I laughed slightly as I took the dish from her.

"Something funny, Ryan?" Dad asked. He liked serious conversations over dinner and laughing was not always sufficiently serious.

"No, father." I gave Erin a sharp glare. She grinned back and I could have laughed again if I wasn't so sure Dad was in a bad mood.

"What the hell was that?" I asked after dinner as I walked into Erin's room.

"What?" she asked with a hinted smirk.

"You know damned well what. Fruit salad?" I said in a mock-shouting voice. She grinned.

"I thought it would be funny. So?"

"So this isn't something that you need to do in front of Dad."

"Not going to tell him?"

"Mom said I shouldn't."

"Oh." Something clicked in her mind just as it had mine. She knew all about the fight at school. She was as hesitant as I was. She thought about it and asked, "So when can I meet Mike, you know, more than just a 'Hi' thing?"

"We're going to the mall tomorrow after school. You can come if you like, he won't mind," I replied.

"Naw. I'd hate to ruin your date." There was her smile again.

"Who has a date?" came Dad's voice from the door. He walked in wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt. With dinner over he had changed into more normal attire.

"Ryan has a date, Dad," Erin said teasingly.

"Good for you, Son. Who's the lucky lady?" he asked. Lucky lady? I would have to get some sort of revenge on Erin for this.

"Just someone from school. We're only going to the mall," I replied. It was the truth, I wouldn't lie even if I was deceiving him.

At least it was a nice date. We didn't hold hands or anything. We both let Jim and Chris' common misfortune scare us. We did little more "gay" things at the mall than check out cute guys. That's probably the biggest advantage to homosexual relationships; being able to look at attractive people and have the sentiment shared by one's partner without too much jealousy. Women never seem to understand that guys will stare at anything that passes if the opportunity is there.

The mall was fun. We played Mortal Kombat 4 in the arcade, ate lunch in the food court (Chinese food, another shared interest), and cruised the stores for nice clothes and accessories. We didn't buy much but it was fun to look.

The real fun would perhaps come later. Or maybe I would. We were in the car and driving home and I caught one of Mike's trademark smirks out of the corner of my eye. What would he have in mind this time?

"Turn right here," he instructed. I checked over my shoulder and switched into the right lane. I'm sure I cut someone off but I figured whatever Mike had in store for me would be more fun than having to continue and make a u-turn. He was devious like that. I made the turn.

The street was more or less an alley behind a small shopping center. The left side was residential but the houses looked more or less deserted. We continued down the road slowly.

"All right, now left," Mike instructed after a minute or so. I had always fancied myself as being dominant socially but Mike had full control and we both knew it. His directions lead me to a final turn to the left.

"Mike this is a dead end," I said. He looked toward the clock. I did the same. Eight o'clock. His mother knew he was coming back to my house for the night and mine knew we'd be out late. Mike had something planned and I had a good idea what it was.

"No shit," he said cooly and then asked, "Feeling adventurous?"

The streets we followed led us to a totally deserted dead end. There were no houses this far back and I felt rather secure about the area. I was also a horny teenager and figured what the hell, might as well please the boy.

"How adventurous?" I smirked, mocking his own devilish grin. He and I both slid our seats back and reclined them for more room. He peeled open my shirt and pants almost expertly and moved closer to my face.

"No warnings," he whispered as he gave me a short, but passionate, kiss and moved his mouth down my rigid body. I loved the feeling of his warm tongue caressing my lightly tanned skin in the cool spring air. Like the previous Sunday, no objections would escape my lips. I don't even recall a noise other than sensuous moans of recognition.

As I had anticipated, my teenage cock (which had been standing at full attention since I caught the grin on Mike's face) was quickly his target. He had an expressed interest in it and I liked it. I'm not sure why, or if it's normal to do so, but during sexual activities I have a tendency to over-analyze the situation. I was honestly thinking about how he had tried to get a good look at my equipment since we had first met. Thinking about it, that is, until he went down on it.

Mike wasted no time. He was exuberantly going at his business without question or hesitation. I can't blame him, though. I like it too. The rhythmic vibrations of sensuous pleasure pulsed across my lower body and up through my spine and assimilated my thoughts almost instantly. I was no longer thinking of anything else. Mike was an expert in the field doing little more than experimenting. Everything down to the position of his tongue and the angle of his neck could not have been more perfect if choreographed. It was a sensation to worship.

"Oh God.." I moaned, feeling a familiar sensation. Familiar may not be strong enough to describe it, however; it was never this good alone.

I was ready to say something more but Mike had requested no warnings. He was brave, I'll give him that. As his head drifted erotically up and down my throbbing member I tensed my muscles and shot what I had to give into him. He was on an up movement so most of ended up on and around his tongue. He moved away and paused to do what appeared to be analyzing the taste.

"Cum'n get it," I said playfully. It was funnier than I had intended, he laughed. If you've ever laughed with your mouth full you know that things tend to be spat from one's mouth. It wasn't a pretty site.

"Are you trying to ruin the inside of my car?" I asked. He was giggling like a school girl for some reason or another. I knew I shouldn't have let him drink so much soda at the mall.

"Next time don't make me laugh," he said. I liked next time.

"Next time swallow," I replied.

"I just wanted to get a good idea of what I was dealing with," he defended. Maybe analyzation isn't so abnormal? I quickly tried to think of a good response.

"Don't play with your food," I snapped. He began to giggle again and opened the console for napkins. I leaned over and we kissed.

In the immortal words of James T. Kirk, "It was.. fun."

All right, I realize this is shorter than the first segment of the story but I was going for the impact of the issues at hand. Again, comments are appreciated and I will answer everything sent. This is part two of a story and if you don't have part one it can be found either where you found this segment or by mailing me. I hope you enjoyed the more recent developments in the plot, I'll work more on sexual aspects next time. I know a lot of you are waiting for that. -Paul