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 III

By Paul Clarke

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

Perhaps Friday had been a spur of the moment event. I decided that the blowjob in the car was a nice hybrid of Mike's horny teenage outlook on life and his curiosity about the delectable taste of human excretions. Either way it had been fun.

My dreams that night turned to sex. I suppose they always had but since I'd met Mike it was so much more intense. Before, the activity in the dreams had no substance. Now it was more real. I knew what it was like to receive and give a blowjob. It felt solid.

Solid, yes, but with a new frontier. Still the sex in the dream was incomplete. It was a dream of Mike, Chris, and I as well as someone I'd never seen having passionate sex rotationally. We took turns. I would give details here, but as I said, there was no substance to it. I woke feeling incomplete, but quite erect.

There was a noise. Light from my window broke open my eyelids like hot daggers in the snow. The noise again. I was too tired. What was it? Again. The phone!

I reached for the familiar plastic object on my bedside stand and activated it.

"Hello?" I mumbled into the receiver. I rubbed my eyes to look at the clock. There was a need to focus but I couldn't do it.

"Why did the chicken cross the road?" came the voice. It, too, was familiar--Mike.

"Do you have any idea what fucking time it is?" I muttered at the phone.

"8:22. Why did the chicken cross the road?" he replied. It was somehow intimate the way he could not understand that I needed something as fundamental as sleep and try to make a joke even though I was obviously not in the mood.

"You'll regret this. I do not wake up at 8:30," I growled. It was Saturday. Who the hell gets up that early on Saturday?

"You seem to be up at 8:22, I'd image you'll be awake at 8:30, too. Answer the goddamned question," he insisted. What question?

"What?" I asked. I suppose it could have been the exhaustion, the dream, or the events that had transpired on the previous night, but I couldn't even remember what he'd asked.

"Why did the chicken cross the road?" he repeated.

"How the fuck would I know?" I asked, still grumbling from weariness of sleep.

"You wouldn't. To get to the other side," came the answer. I wasn't hardly tired enough to laugh at that.

"Where did you get that?" I asked sarcastically as I sat up in my bed.

"Just seemed like it would wake you up," he replied. I looked down at my crotch.

"It worked. You've got my full attention," I answered coyly.

"Kinky. Wanna catch a movie?" he offered.

"Who's paying?" I asked, almost dreading the answer.

"Lets review," he began. It didn't sound good for me. "In a straight relationship the guy pays. We're both guys so we need a better way. You're older."

"Didn't you use that excuse before?" I asked hesitantly.

"Might have. You're the little rich boy," he said. I wasn't hardly rich but his mom was pretty short on cash and nobody in Tucson hires fourteen-year-olds so he always lacked lucre.

"Whatever. Lemme shower and I'll pick you up in an hour or so. We can get some coffee or something till Century opens," I offered.

"See you then" were his parting words as I heard the familiar click of his voice embarked on a journey too far for my deprived ears to hear. It was poetically sad how much I loved to hear his voice. Such is life.

Stepping into the flush coral hallway I found the house to be quite tranquil. Odd enough, I knew how my family liked to be in the mornings. I was the only one to sleep in. Mother was usually playing Klondike on one computer with Dad sitting at the other cruising the NHRA homepage for latest race results.

I paused. No keyboard. No familiar shuffling of virtual cards. No television. Nothing. I stumbled to the kitchen.

"Ryan, gone to Lucille's house to visit with the family. Aunt Kathleen is in town, we'll be back this afternoon," I read aloud. It was signed by Mom. Good enough for me, less questions to answer about where I was going. I headed for the bathroom.

After micturating briefly I stepped into the shower and turned on the water. I jolted back as ice poured from the faucet. It certainly woke me up. I adjusted the temperature and waited for the febrile liquid to warm my arctic integument. Soon I was virtually in a sauna. I like my showers hot.

There was no way around it. I had a raging hard-on not only from my erotic dream but from waking to Mike's idyllic voice. He wasn't a completely reliable source of pleasure, I would have to make do.

Standing in the burning stream of water I ran my smooth hands up my thin chest. Chances are I was trying to mock Mike's tongue movements as they had crossed my tepid flesh, but all I could think of was his voice.

My nipples petrified in place as my hands caressed my body. When one cannot be intimate with a partner, one is intimate with one's self. A moan escaped my lips as my hands raced to my waistline and beyond.

I grasped my nearly seven inch cock in my right hand and massaged balls gently with my left. Stopping only for a soapy lather I stroked my tool cadencingly, imagining with each stroke that it was Mike's warm mouth and that the flat fronts of my fingers were his sensuous tongue. I felt every fluid in my body boil as the undulating pleasure annexed my nervous system.

Why did the chicken cross the road? Hell if I could remember but just thinking it was enough for me.

I swear the cum hit the opposite wall of the shower but nobody ever wants to believe me. I don't know if my dreams had anything to do with it but it seemed lately that I'd have to do little more than think of Mike and I was blowing my fortune all over. It was mind-numbingly intense and I loved it.

I washed myself and prepared for the day. The contacts--oh how I hated them--slid easily into my eyes and the toothpaste cascaded over my teeth with the toothbrush almost like they were a part of my body. The metal blade of my razor skimming my young flesh with a wicked grin all its own even felt like a part of my body.

A date with Mike meant everything to me. Everything. I selected from my closet my favorite blue boxers, some faded, semi-baggy Jincos, and a white Levi Strauss shirt. Towel-drying and parting my hair with a comb, I slid into my Airwalks and grabbed my keys.

I pulled up to the curb outside the quaint house where dwelled the object of my affection. My head turned as he raced out the door. Mike was majestic. The dirty blond hair and light brown eyes were illuminated by the maroon shirt on top of his black jeans. I couldn't see his shoes, they were covered by the torn ends of his pant legs. That's ok, I wasn't looking at his shoes.

He dove into my car in an Olympic fashion. I was likely staring but I guess that's ok.

"You're beautiful, Mike," I said without digressing from his subdued eyes.

"You aren't so bad yourself, Ry," he replied. I slammed my foot on the gas pedal without more than a glance to the front. It was an empty residential area, nobody was on the street.

"We're off," I said.

"To the Bat Cave!" Mike shouted in response to my acceleration.

"Bats, balls, that's my kind of cave," I replied with a smirk. It would be a great day, I could feel it.

"This is really good," I commented on the flavor of the coffee. It was a cafe mocha, I think, but I wasn't paying all that much attention. Neither Mike nor I were good at keeping a conversation going most of the time. I had to try something.

"It's ok," he replied. That didn't work well. I rested my chin on my hand and stared at Mike across the table.

"What movie do you want to see?" I asked. It had been his idea to see a movie, might as well let him resolve the choices.

"Good Will Hunting," he said without hesitation. I'd heard it was good, what the hell.

"Isn't that the one with Matt Damon and that Ben kid?" I asked. I'd only seen previews.

"Yeah. Chris said it was good," Mike answered. Well if Chris said so it was good enough for me. Chris liked Jim Kellogg and Jim Kellogg was hot stuff. He had good taste.

"Good enough for me," I said. There was an abandoned newspaper on a near-by chair. I grabbed it and turned to the movie section.

"Looking for the movie?" Mike asked.

"Are you high? What else would I be doing?" I asked. "Century Gateway 12 at 12:15. That's two hours from now. We can go to the mall first."

"Cool. We'll do that then," Mike said obtusely. He was completely absorbed in his drink. I laughed. He looked up with a "What?"

"Something wrong with you today?" I asked, putting my hand on his.

"Just nervous," he replied. His eyes elevated to meet mine and he changed the angle of his neck to match.

"Want to talk about it?" I asked cautiously. He grasped my hand securely.

"Well I kinda like to experiment with things and that shit in the car last night and all.." he trailed off.

"That wasn't your fault. If you don't like the taste you don't have to drink it," I offered supportively.

"It's not that it's just that I messed up. I was trying to be romantic and playful and all and it kinda blew up in my face," he said. It was one of those crying moods but I knew he wouldn't in public.

"Actually it kinda blew up in my car," I joked. He kinda smiled, but not much. It wasn't helping. He looked down.

"See I want to go further. I really love you, Ryan," he said. It pierced my heart like a butterfly on a rainbow, I felt blithe like never before. He looked up into my eyes.

"I love you too, Mike," I said. My passion could not be expressed in words. I stared into his soul in search of the description of my lasciviousness.

"Then you understand my nervousness. I asked Chris about ramming ass and he says it kinda hurts at first. I don't want to mess that up, too," Mike admitted. His whole problem was centered around a fear we both shared. It was all falling together once again.

"Maybe we'll just figure it out as we go and agree not to complain," I suggested with a wink. Mike got the idea. He wasn't alone. It felt spectacular.

The hours shambled along like laggard mollusks in December. It was finally noon and we finally settled into the padded theater seats. The place was empty other than an overabundant man in the front and a young couple sitting in the right-center of the vast room.

I didn't wait for Mike to think. I sat in the back row on the left side of the theater. He grinned to himself and sat beside me with his huge bag of popcorn and large soda. I felt exploited but somehow happy that it was Mike doing the exploiting.

And it began. The lights dimmed, the movie rolled, and the chamber was mine. Three minutes into the movie, I had my arm around Mike. Not loosely, but really imposing. He got the idea and winked at me briefly. The movie dragged on--I let it. There was a kissing scene somewhere around the middle and I took advantage of the romance on the screen.

Mike turned as he saw me move. I slid my left arm closer to my shoulder and pulled him toward me with my right arm. Moving quickly, I had my lips pressed to his without a sound.

I moved slowly from there, letting my tongue explore his mouth. His tongue responded. It was warm and intimate in its gestures and my hands explored Mike's body. He was warmer than I expected in the cool theater. I loved it. The passion caused a fast response in my pants but I chose to ignore it. Sex in a theater might not be kosher. I simply explored.

I felt a response inside Mike almost empathically as my hand ran up under his shirt. His flesh was hot and lightly sweating. He was liking my action. My hands ran from his back along his lower ribcage to his sternum and up to his right nipple. I was rewarded quickly by his ferreting tongue and orchestrating lips.

My young beau begin to explore with his own hands, but over my clothes. He trifled with me like a plaything knowing I was savoring every minute of it. I glanced briefly around the room through the corner of my eye. Nobody would see us even if they looked. There was room to breathe.

I dissolved the vehement osculation and moved to where my hand had so recently fiddled. I flashed my tongue zealously over Mike's stunningly chiseled chest. He was doing his best to be quiet, I could tell. I was not about to let him get off that easy.

Or maybe letting him get off was a concept with some merit. I undid his belt buckle while continuing with the rhythmic action on his stomach and chest. I don't think he noticed.

I paused briefly as his pants unbound and I extracted his adamant young virility from its textile oubliette. No objection. I went for the goal. My tongue rolled around and around Mike's cock. It was hedonistically evil because I knew he wanted it but he had to try to remain quiet. Any enunciation may have ended what pleasure he was receiving. It wasn't worth the risk.

After taunting him with my tongue for several minutes I ran my mouth onto his penis. It was warm and already oozing a warm fluid. The semi-salty taste was like a harmonica rhapsodizing in the cool spring wind. I enjoyed it.

I took Mike's entire six inches into my mouth quickly. I'm not sure exactly how. I was crouched low over him with my knees on the unclean theater floor. His spindly organ tickled my throat precariously as it threatened to cause me to choke. I didn't mind.

My head moved apace to and fro along his cock as if there was no tomorrow. I wanted to work quickly to avoid being caught and he wanted the blowjob. Good enough for me.

Mike began stroking my hair in rhythm with the movements of my head and neck. It was sensuous and kept me going with more intimacy. Only a minute or two passed after that before his hands tightened against my head and his muscles tensed in a familiar pattern. I braced myself for the blasts of molten candy that came roaring out of the delectable organ that was buried in my mouth. I counted seven of such spurts and swallowed every drop.

"Great movie" was Mike's comment when we finally dropped onto his couch hours later. He had been mostly quiet since and was really seeming happier than earlier. I was pleased.

"I don't think it's the movie you liked," I argued. He grinned at me and moved himself on top of my body. We engaged in a fervid display of intimacy as his lips took control of my mouth. I wouldn't have moved if I thought I could. It was wild.

I don't know how long that kiss lasted but it wasn't brief by any measure. Looking into Mike's eyes I knew two things. The first was that I was totally in love. The second was that something would happen within the next hour and it would be good.

I was right on both accounts.

"Ryan?" he asked with the same nervousness he'd had that first Sunday.

"Yeah?" I replied, knowing full well what he was about to ask.

"Feeling adventurous?" he teased. I smiled.

"Who goes first this time?" I asked cautiously. He was fully ready to volunteer.

"Me again. Youngest first." I don't think it bothered me much that he used age against me. It wasn't even that long, a mere fourteen months!

Mike led me into his bedroom which was again a mess of junk. He grabbed a jar of Vaseline. I sighed with relief. He might have been dumb enough to try it without lubricant the first time and I was dumbfounded enough to let him if he had.

Not knowing what to do, I simply stripped my clothes and got onto my hands and knees on the floor. By that point he, too, was totally disrobed. I stared at him briefly before he moved behind me. Mike was thin as a reed. I liked it.

A frigid feeling came from behind as Mike spread some Vaseline onto my hirsute posterior. He slipped a finger quickly inside. It felt large, much like his cock had that first time in my mouth. He spread the arctic cream around and withdrew his finger.

"Be gentle," I said in a mocking tone. I didn't look back, but I knew he was grinning. I anxiously awaited what torture he had in store.

As I was positioned there I presently felt a pressure on the entrance to my bowels. Mike left his cock there briefly and then exerted more pressure. I felt it enter slowly. It dwarfed the finger that moments before had passed a short distance into the depths of my breech. It hurt just enough to make me jolt.

"I'm sorry," Mike apologized.

"No. Keep going, it's just cold," I said excused. He was unsettled enough as it was, I wouldn't even consider making him hesitant at that point.

Slowly Mike pushed farther and then pulled back. As with the first blowjob he worked his way up and within minutes had a good rhythm going.

"That's really great," I said enthusiastically between moans. The pleasure it gave me having his cock in my ass was like nothing I'd felt to date. It rolled over my skin and throughout my innards like as seismic tremor pulsating across the fault lines of the earth. It was certainly that Herculean.

Mike just kept at it while I stroked my cock lightly. I wasn't complaining and he was moaning more erotically than I'd ever heard him moan. I contracted the muscles in my lower end in an attempt to give Mike some sort of further pleasure. It worked.

My inamorato groaned as I felt a pulse of warm liquid fill my body. The utter feeling of Mike ejaculating inside of me sent my rockets flaring as well. I came on his floor inadvertently as he pulled out of me. He didn't seem to mind.

We kissed passionately once again, not letting up for a good minute. I caressed his body and he returned the favor. Collapsing on the floor, we both knew we would likely be intertwined for hours. I looked over to him.

"When we finally get up, it's my turn," I said. The day was still young.

A third story complete, I hope all of you who have been following the plot are still out there. Please e-mail comments, I really like getting it. To date I have answered every e-mail sent to me with a unique letter and will continue to do so. Don't, however, send me advertisements and such please. I got three or four of them and it bugs me. Am I bothered too easily? Oh well. Hope you enjoyed the story. -Paul