MIKE and RICHIE
Chapter 7
by Donny Mumford
After three days in the hospital Mike's acting more like himself easily winning over his fifteen year old roommate, Ronny Dwyer. Ronny's a cute kid; he tells me he "knows all about me." I wonder what that means; the way he said it sorta implies Mike's told him some big dark secret about me. Well, I do have a secret that only Mike knows about, but I can't imagine he'd tell Ronny I'm gay 'cause that might implicate him. Anyway, I'm not too concerned what Ronny knows so to his assertion that he knows "all about me" I act uninterested, and mumble, "Oh yeah, he told ya about me, huh? How so?" Ronny goes, "Oh, never mind, for now," and he and Mike chuckle as if they share a private joke. Okay, I admit to feeling a twinge of jealousy at that, but mostly I'm glad Mike's got enough energy that he can break my balls a little. As Mike and the new kid chuckle, I check Ronny out and there's no doubt about it, he's got a lot going for him.Those beautiful big brown eyes are something; three shades of brown, shining brightly. Very light brown hair cut short, but not as short as Mike's. Ronny combs his down on top and flips up the bangs in front; like I said, cute! Jeez, he's the second boy in my life I've thought of as 'cute'; not that I've ever said it out loud. There are a few freckles across the bridge of Ronny's ski nose, but other than that he's got a perfectly clear pale complexion, and a great smile to go with it. And it does seem he's always smiling, showing off his dimples and milk-white teeth, the top ones slightly separated. He's slim like Mike and me, but lying there in bed he appears to be shorter than me by maybe two ta three inches. Ronny's got a funny way about him too, as in 'humorous', and he appears very alert as in 'quick witted and smart'. There's something mischievous about him as well... any of these personality traits would be reason enough for Mike to befriend him.
Gee, I guess Mike didn't see enough of those traits in me 'cause it took him a lot longer to befriend me. I'm not much into self pity though, and therefore won't be spending much time thinking about that. I wonder if Mike's taken to Ronny so quickly for reasons he won't even admit to himself; like Ronny's cuteness, maybe. As far as I can tell Ronny's not gay, but that don't mean he isn't. While musing about all this, I'm half listening to Ronny and Mike spout-out their complaints about hospital life: the food, the nurses waking them up in the middle of the night to take vital statistics, the bodily function humiliations where orderlies or nurses assist, sponge baths, and blah, blah, blah. They're mostly laughing about it all, and since I've no personal hospital experience the boys are trying to fill me in on some of the more bizarre aspects of their daily activities; I can only hope they're exaggerating. A half hour later Ronny's tired and needs a nap so I pull the curtain between the two beds and then sit on the edge of Mike's bed so we can talk quietly. Mrs. Sullivan arrives about fifteen minutes later, gives me a hug and Mike a kiss, then the three of go about making plans for Mike's upcoming release from the hospital. The plans include Mike staying with me because his mom simply can't afford to miss work. I eagerly volunteer to look after Mike and I'm thinking things are shaping up, and beginning to look real good once again! Mike's only got a couple more days in here and he's antsy to get out. Occasionally he'll get a little snippy with me, but I don't mind all that much, I'm more interested in the fact he's healthier now, and his frisky attitude means he's feeling stronger too. Mike, his mom, and me talk about things until a nurse shows up to give Mike a sponge bath. His mom goes back to work then, and I say, "See ya later, Mike," then hustle outside to take a big inhale, happy to be out of that hospital room myself. Hopping on Mike's motorbike I ride to nowhere in particular. It turns into a long hot ride speeding down dirt roads with my longish hair blows back flat on my head. I love riding this motorbike; the roar of the mufflers in the background and the wind in my face. Mike and I have been warned a number of times by police to wear helmets, but Mike refuses and I do like Mike does. There's a connection I feel with this bike; it's almost like it's been instrumental in getting me and Mike together. On my rides I often think about the disaster that almost was, how we all narrowly escaped a terribly fate. Maybe it babyish of me, but I cry with relief almost every day; the tears drying on my face as I fly down the road thanking God for sparing Mike. We seem to appreciate what we have so much more when we've almost lost it... human nature, I guess.
Next day, after my chores, I ride to the hospital, park and lock the bike, flash my special pass at the big black guy at the desk, and proceed up to Mike's room... it's routine by now. Inside, Mike tells me his roommate's having a procedure done this morning so we have time to do a quick couple of kisses. I'm surprised, shocked actually, but pleased too that Mike initiated this. Then I find out why. He begins by accounting for every possible intrusion into this room over the next hour. I've got a puzzled grin on my face hovering near the head of his bed listening to him, then he reaches over and cups behind my neck to pull my head down and we do a long luscious French kiss. I'm breathless as my semi boner moves in my shorts. He kisses my cheek, and says, "I'm in desperate need of having my dick sucked and since there ain't no way anyone's coming into this room for a least an hour, get to it!" He's being light and funny about it, but there's a seriousness and desperation in the way he said it too. It occurs to me that Mike's gotten used to regularly having his dick sucked, and getting his rocks off fucking me, and now he's had to go without it cold-turkey. I can see how that might be a hard thing to deal with 'cause I've missed sex with Mike too, but in my case the worry about him, plus frequent hand jobs have kept my teen sex drive under wraps. Mike can't jerk off in here with a roommate, so he's had no relief of any kind. I'm sympathetic to his plight; nevertheless, to break his balls a little, I say, "Are you out of your fucking mind? You expect me to do it here?" I'm teasing him of course; I want to suck his dick as much as he wants it sucked. Still, it's a tricky and dangerous proposition because, no matter what Mike's says, we don't really know if someones going to walk through that door from one minute to the next; this is a hospital fer chrissakes! Mike and me joke back and forth about it for a couple of minutes, with me pretending to resist the idea; plus I'm also kinda enjoying having Mike nag me for sex. God knows, I've nagged Mike for it any number of times on the boardwalk, I'm like, "Let's get going, Mike... we oughta be getting home, don't ya think?" He, of course, knows why I want to get home so he'd tease me with, "Ah, let's grab an Italian ice first," or something to prolong my yearnings for him. Now, the worm has turned... temporarily anyway.
When Mike's had enough of my teasing, he's like, "Okay, Richie, just stop it!
We both know you want to do it so get your head under these covers!" Something about the way he said that gets my dick stirring again, and I'm definitely ready to take the chance. I say, "Get under the sheets, my ass," then grab his sheet and fling it back exposing his hot legs, which I run my hands over smiling my best smile at him. He's wearing a hospital johnny, laying on his right side; the damage being done to his left. I take one last look at his youthful cute face, the tip of his pink tongue showing between his lips as his eyes shine with anticipation; I have so much love for him it's almost scary. Lifting the johnny, I glance at his cock and balls, then lean over to get my face near his crotch and it's immediately obvious the sponge baths aren't making it down this far. Strong teen crotch odor, an over-ripe, sickeningly sweet smell, but it's Mike's odor and I can't turn away from it. I get his semi-firm penis in my fingers and ruffle his blond pubes, then palm his nuts realizing that the raunchy smell down here is sexy to me; I inhale the odor feeling my dick tighten up... okay, guess I'm into raunchy a little bit. Leaning down near his groin I lick the inside of both his thighs, my hair fluffing against his dick. Then long licks in the same area, followed by a full tonging up the backside of his cock's shaft, then down the top side with my longish hair resting on his belly now. Mike let's out a lot of air, and mumbles, "This feels so good, Richie." As I move my head licking into his raunchy smelling pubes, he giggles, and goes, "Your hairs ticking me," so I purposely move my head side to side and he puts his 'good' hand in my hair to push it back against the top of my head. Taking his cock in my mouth now, I rub the head of it against the soft, smooth parts along the inside of my cheeks and caress it with my tongue; it quickly firms-up tight and hard. The aroma is strong, definitely one hundred percent Mike Sullivan, and then some. I stop sucking to again inhale deeply, then again so that the odor is totally in my head, then I rub my nose against his balls holding his cock against the outside of my cheek and immersed myself in the odor of this unwashed part of Mike, this area of his body that gives me so much pleasure. This is a new sensation, this feeling of sexual arousal caused by the natural, but nasty, aroma from the unwashed body of the person I love. I don't understand it, but it's got me hot and totally aroused; my cock's so hard it hurts! My eyes close on their own as I lick down his cock, around it, and down on his nuts with that hot sexy odor dominating my world. A wet drop of precum appears at Mike's pee slit, it balances for a second before drooling over my fingers where I lick it off. Mike moans and humps his hips gently as I suck on his cock and pull up more precum to swallow. I take his saliva slippery boner out of my mouth and wipe it all over my face... I love doing this with his penis! Then, putting it back in my mouth and leaning my head forward I take it into my throat; all the way down until my nose presses into his pubes and then flattens against his belly. Pulling my head back off his boner till just the head is at my gag reflect area, then quickly going down on it again and now my dick is dripping and wetting through the front of my shorts. Mike's making hissing sounds, blowing and sucking air between closed lips, his eyes squeezed shut, his hips doing tiny thrusts. He's ready to blow any second now so I continuously bob my head up and down on his rock-hard cock for the better part of two minutes, then my throat gets the first squirt of spunk from his boner. I pull his boner from my throat to suck cum from the head, then stick the tip of my tongue in his quivering pee slit... a long muffled moan escapes Mike's throat, along with a spastic hip thrust, which had to have hurt his incision... then a long hard string of cum pours into the back of my mouth. Swallowing quickly, and then again, and more sucking gets more spunk. My boner's trapped in my shorts needing to be stroked badly and now there's a big round wet spot right at the crotch of my shorts, just below the zipper. I'm massaging the wet spot and moaning quietly while still lightly sucking Mike's cock. The taste of his spunk and his raunchy odor has me delirious with sexual pleasure, and deeply in need of climaxing.
Mike's quietly moaning along with me, his free hand playing with my hair and rubbing my shoulders, and the back of my neck. I've swallowed every drop of his cum and am now gently sucking for more when there's a distinct bump on Mike's door. Pulling my head out from under his johnny, "Huh?" I whip my head around to see a candy striper backing into the room pulling a cart with lunch trays on it. I gulp, "Oh!" and take five quick steps into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. The last thing I see before closing the door is Mike's big smile as he's pulling his sheet p to his chest. My heart's pounding fast as I look at the mirror over the bathroom sink and see my dark red face of embarrassment. Dammit! I can't be sure what she saw of course, but surely she turned her head at some point while backing into the room just to see where she's going. She had to see my head under Mike's johnny. I check my watch then, thinking,
"Lunchtime?" It's quarter to eleven in the morning fer chrissakes! Who the fuck eats lunch at this time? I'm taking deep breaths, then realize, "Candy striper or not, I gotta finish getting off!" It's an awesome turn-on sucking Mike's cock, but it's his raunchy crotch odor that's mostly in my head now as I pull down my pants and jerk myself off, grunting with sexual pleasure at each stroke; his odor, his sexy raunchy odor and... "Ahhh, ooh oooohh!" cum literally pees out of my boner. That's how hard and fast it came out, like a hard pee stream. I almost pass out with the sensations... the buzzing all around my groin and all along my cock and especially at the head. My toes curl in my sandals as I hold my breath to keep from squealing out loud, waiting for the after effects to calm down; then, collapsing onto the toilet seat, I absently stroke myself. What a climax! Whoa! Taking a few deep breaths, I wonder again what the candy striper saw, then get up and clean-up my spunk with toilet paper. After flushing the soggy paper, I unlock the door, open it a crack and peek out. No candy striper, just Mike, who says, "What the hell ya doing, Richie? Help me open this damn milk carton, will ya?"
Hmmm, I cautiously check that we're actually alone, pull out my T-shirt to hide the wet precum stains on my shorts, and say, "Well, well, well, Mikey. I'm quite sure you said no one would be joining us during our little playtime; didn't ya?" He says, "Don't call me Mikey. My mom's the only one allowed to do that. Here, open this damn thing; I can't do it with one hand. You're gonna be my nurse, so get busy." Being sexually satisfied for the moment, he's enjoying himself; having himself a good old time. I open the little milk carton, but before I can make a big deal out of the candy striper interrupting my cocksucking, Ronny's wheelchair is pushed in by an orderly; it's like grand central station in here. Us three teens yell, "Dude!" at the same time, startling the orderly who then gets Ronny situated back in bed. When the wheel chair is pushed back out, the three of us exchange wise cracks while the two bedridden boys eat their ten forty-five a.m. lunches. They bitch about each item on their tray in between telling me about Ronny's procedure just a little while ago. He had an ultra sound of his stomach in an attempt to discover why he's experiencing pains there. His other problem is a serious high ankle sprain which he sustained in conjunction with the onset of his stomach pains. It came on him unexpectedly while roller-blading and the sharp pain caused him to go down hard on the sidewalk, doing damage to his ankle. Ronny slurps down his Jello cubes, saying, "Mike, dude, ya seem to be in awfully good spirits over there so I'm guessing ya got your wish." Mike's like, "Oh yeah, absolutely, and it almost busted a nut too." My eyes narrow; it sounds like they're talking about the blow job I just gave Mike, but how the fuck....? Why would Mike tell Ronny about us? I'm a little hurt, and a little angry too, but I'm not positive they're talking about that, so I say nothing.
Ronny burps, then asks, "Could ya push this thing away for me, Rich? I'm done. Oh, and if ya
want that brownish thing on my plate, you can have it." I sarcastically say, "Ahh, no thank you," as I push his eating table over to the window, and he comes right out with, "Any chance you'd give me a little head today?" My face gets red immediately! So they were referring to me sucking Mike off! Those bastards. Both Ronny and Mike are staring at me, smirking of course, and holding back laughter. I look over at Mike with my mouth hanging open. "Why... wha...?" He goes, "We're kidding with you, Richie! Here's what's up... Ronny told me, the first night he's here, that he and his cousin fuck around with each other. They've been doing it for over a year... so I hear that and, you know, for conversation purposes, I sorta told him about us. What the fuck's the difference, anyway?" Ronny's like, "Oh yeah, it's no big deal... it's cool, and what else we got to do on a farm twenty miles from our nearest neighbor?" Mike's playing with his Jello cup now, then looks up and says, "Yeah, he's from the Midwest; lives on a fucking farm with cow pies, the whole deal. He's here with his family visiting relatives when he had his accident." I'm still speechless, feeling a trust has been violated. Mike adds, "And another thing Richie, Ronny and his cousin aren't any more gay than we are; they're just messin' around and seeing how everything works, ya know?" I'm thinking, "I'm sure they're not any more gay then we are... or any less gay." But, as usual, I keep that thought to myself.
I'm standing here a little bit stunned, staring at Mike as he talks casually about gay behavior, like it's routine for all teen boys. I mean, can I believe this? He never wants it mentioned between the two of us, but with this stranger he's open about participating in gay sex. Of course, neither he nor Ronny are gay... oh no! What a crock! I'm legitimately angry and and embarrassed which isn't like me. Well, the embarrassed part is like me, but I rarely get angry at Mike. Oh hell, I want him to be more open about our relationship, our gay relationship, so why aren't I pleased with this development? Ronny interrupts my thoughts, "Um, Rich... dude, ya got something on your chin that looks suspiciously like spunk." I reach up to rub my chin, horrified. He chuckles, saying, "Gottcha!" I'm shaking my head, embarrassed again, as Mike quietly says, "Come on, Richie. This isn't like you; we're goofing on you, that's all. Ronny here is going back to Kansas or wherever, and we're going back to Wildwood; all this stuff is just between the three of us. We're kindred spirits, come on... lighten the fuck up!" Yeah, I guess he's right. Making a face at him, then shrugging, I mumble, "Whatever." Then, still feeling out of sorts, but wanting to show Mike I'm good with everything, I ask, "You done with your lunch, Mike? I'll take that thing away for ya, that lunch tray thing," and, as I'm doing that, Ronny asks, "Can ya help me get to the bathroom, Richie? I hate when it's the nurse or, god forbid, a candy striper helping me. I just know they're making fun of my tiny penis." He giggles at that, so I'm not sure if this is another joke on me, and I hesitate until he says, "Please!" Suspicious of a trick, I help him out of bed, and then, with an arm around his narrow waist, assist him into the bathroom. His body feels good, and this close-up his face is almost pretty... wow, Mike and Ronny in the same hospital room! I'll bet there's horny nurses making up excuses to do something for these two; just to get a look at them. Candy stripers for sure; and what about gay orderlies... ha ha, no wonder there's so much activity in their room! Ronny says, "Would ya close the door, there's a lot of traffic coming and going in out there." That makes me smile to myself because of what I was just thinking. I'm steadying him now as he stands on one foot in front of the toilet, pulling up his johnny; he says, "Don't look, okay?" He seems sincere, no joking around as he starts peeing in the toilet. I'm rolling my eyes at the 'don't peek' remark, then of course I peek, and sure enough his dick is small. About three inches and I can't help but snicker, and ask, "How old are you, anyway?" He snorts out a laughs, and says, "You prick! You looked, didn't you?" But he says it in a funny way, not like he's really mad at me or anything, so I go. "Yeah, ya got me there, I glanced over your shoulder and then had to take another look because I missed that worm of yours the first time." He gets a good-natured laugh going for him, his head back against on my shoulder, leaning against me. After the laugh, he's sort of laying against me and, like I said, he feels good. Looking up and sounding like a little kid, he goes, "How 'bout giving it a suck, Richie. I miss my cousin sooooo much!" I go, "Nah, I don't think so, but if I need a toothpick I know who to come to." He's laughing again, then says, "Oh man, you're getting me all hot and bothered, dude." Hey, he's a pretty good kid after all; I should have known Mike wouldn't hook up with an asshole.
After getting Ronny back into his bed, the three of us waste a half hour joking about gay sexy matters using synonyms and double entendres, pretending we're not talking about gay sexy matters. You know, for laughs, and as we're doing that it occurs to me how relaxing and comfortable it would be if Mike was open about gay matters all the time, and how nice it would be if we had other gay friends to do things with. I don't mean do sexual things with, I mean to just hang with as openly gay buddies. Are there guys like that, I wonder? Sure, there has to be. I don't know any of course, but Mike did mention that old gay TV show, 'Queer As Folks' where there are gay friends doing stuff together; stuff like straight friends do, or sorta like straight friends do. I've never seen the show; hell, I don't even know what the title of the show even means. Anyway, like I said, it turns out that Ronny's very likable; maybe a little brash and overly confident, but I like him anyway. Oh, and he's got a lot of jokes too, so I'm happy for Mike that he's got a good roommate, if only for two more days. During the last two days of Mike's hospitalization there's no further discussion of oral sex, nor gay behavior. Sucking Mike off like I did was reckless and we'd stretched our luck enough already. If the candy striper saw anything, she didn't mention it to either of us. So, today's the day; the doctors say Mike's improved enough to go home, and Mike can't wait. Saying our goodbyes to Ronny, I push Mike's wheelchair to the elevator and then, when on the main floor, past the receptionist and out the front door to where his mom's waiting beside her car. She's been great, although overly appreciative of my help; it gets awkward being thanked so much. Of course, she has no idea of the deep relationship I have with Mike or that I love doing things for him; she assumes I'm just a friend, which is fine for now.
Mike still gets tired easily and even the relatively simple move from the hospital to our bedroom exhaust him. His mom and me get him settled in bed and he falls right to sleep. Having a cigarette on the front porch, she says to me, "You're really something, Richie. It's so nice of you switch places with Mikey; I mean, you give up your bed to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor... it's just so kind of you." See what I mean about 'awkward situations' ? I say, "Oh, that's alright, it's only temporary and I like sleeping in a sleeping bag." She stubs her cigarette butt out in the ashtray, shaking her head slowly, "You're one in a million, honey. I'm glad Mike has you as a friend." Sitting in the rocker after Mrs. Sullivan drives away, I feel guilty; like I'm accepting praise under false pretenses, but can I do? I can't say, "Oh, Mrs. Sullivan, I'm in love with Mike! It's my pleasure being his nurse, and don't worry about the sleeping bag thing... neither of us uses it." No, I can't say that, and anyway, I will need to use the sleeping bag until Mike's wound heals. Hopefully he's a quick healer! Yeah, I'm glad to act as an orderly or a nurse for Mike, but I'm nervous about it too. It's a big responsibility and I'm not a super confident kid so I'm afraid I'll screw something up. There's medication to consider; Mike needs to take certain pills every four hours, and there's pain pills that I need to be careful he doesn't take too many of, and his back still aches deep inside the muscle tissue so getting the pillows situated just right is a constant concern, and there's awkward bathroom matters too. It's a bit overwhelming, but I'm determined to make it work... and, right from the start it does work too. Mike's a tough kid, but it's no picnic recovering from the injury inflicted on him so on some days he takes his frustration out on me; then, a little while later he'll mumble an apology which for him isn't an easy thing to do. The potentially embarrassing bathroom activities go more smoothly than I'd have thought, but that's mostly because we combine it with oral sex. Both Mike and I quickly get through with the necessary bodily functions and daily bathing 'cause looking forward to the sex that follows. There's some friendly kissing, but no hugging, then oral sex, and all things considered, I can't see how a professional nurse could do a better job than I'm doing; it's something I'm proud of. Of course, a professional nurse wouldn't have the advantage my oral sex to get Mike's total cooperation. Ha ha!
School's in session now so we adjust our schedule a bit, and it works okay because Mike's progressed enough that he can be left alone for a couple hours at a time. His mom's arranged for Mike and me to be in all the same classes so I can tutor Mike with school work each night, plus I get to come home for lunch and since the class before lunch is a study hall, my lunch period is an hour and a half which is plenty of time to do what needs to be done. In the morning I take care of his needs before I leave for school, then the long lunch break, then after school I'm home for the rest of the day. It's certainly not ideal, but it's working better than any of us expected. After two weeks Mike's off all pain medication and I'm now able to climb into bed with him. While sleeping I take the place of three of Mike's support pillows and the bodily contact is wonderful. I gently wrap my arms around him, without any complaints from Mike, I might add. We're close to attempting a gentle form of screwing, and as for me personally, I can hardly wait to feel him inside me again, but jostling his body in any way still causes some pain so he's not quite there yet. That being said, I'm still thinking we'll be giving it a try real soon. And a couple of days later we do, and it's at Mike's suggestion too. His romantic way of bringing it up is the same as before the stabbing: "I know ya wanna try some cornholing, Richie, and I'm ready to oblige you the best I'm able." Ha ha... I almost laugh out loud. Does he hear himself? Oh man, he can't possibly believe I don't see through his assertion that he's doing this only as a favor to me! What the hell though, I say, "Sure Mike, I'd appreciate whatever you can do." I mean, I say it with a straight face and all, but come on... Mike's gotta know I'm kidding. He maintains the facade though, and says, "Alright, but don't be nagging me to fuck you every day, my shoulder is still wicked sore." Oh man!
In an exaggerated little boy's voice, I go, "I promise not to nag," and this time he looks over at me like the old days, frowning; like he's trying to figure out if I just dissed him. I return his stern look with a little smile and run my fingers through his blond hair a couple of times. It's been over a month since his last buzz cut and his hair's about an inch long. It's long enough to be wavy so maybe that's why Mike keeps it buzzed; wavy hair isn't a tough enough style statement to satisfy the self image Mike has of himself... or maybe he knows he's not projecting his true self image, but feels he needs to project a false one for some reasons I'd probably never be able to guess. Mike, forgetting about being dissed, responds to me running my fingers through his hair by saying, "Yeah, I need a haircut bad," and I say, "I wish you'd let it grow out like mine; it would be so cool." He moves his head away from my hand, and says, "Do ya want me to fuck you or not?"
Of course I want him to fuck me and, to prove it, I get undressed right away. Then, standing in front of the bed naked, I say, "Does this answer your question?" To me it seems Mike devours my body with his eyes for a brief couple of seconds, and I love that 'cause from his encouragement the exercise and weight lifting has turned my skinny body into a skinny body with some definition here and there. Mike bites his bottom lip, then reaches down with his free hand to pull his cock through the fly of his boxer shorts and stroke it a few times before motioning with a nod of his head that I need to get down to his cock. I bent right over and take it from his hand to stroke it a few times myself, then lip it into my mouth and suck the head while lapping it with my tongue. Mike grunts and moves his hips as his cock firms up quickly. He tries not to cry out in pain when he humps his hips too hard, but it's like an involuntary response; ya can't stop the "Aaaah!" When his boner is so hard it's sticking straight out from his crotch, I lube my hole, then slowly apply jelly lube to his shiny-hard boner before climbing onto the bed to lay on my side facing the wall. This is how we did it the first time. Reaching behind me I guide his boner to my anus and push back with my ass until the head pops inside me... we both go, "Oooohhh," as I slowly press back forcing his boner inch by inch up my ass, and each inch feels wonderful. It's tight and a little painful at first, but that's temporary; the wonderful part far exceeds a little hurt. Mike goes, "Ahh, oh my god!" then he can't resist humping me twice for which he pays the price, grunting, "Owww, damnit!" I say, "Please, Mike, just stay still and I'll do the moving." He doesn't say anything, probably because he's holding his breath waiting for the pain in his back to subside, but he squeezes my shoulder showing support for my idea. Pulling forward and then pushing back on his awesome cock; then again, and again, and we both go, "Oooohh, yeah," it's magic time again... oh my god, it feels so fucking good I'm the one biting my lip now. I'm biting it to keep from embarrassing myself by squealing like a girl. Getting into a nice rhythm of pulling forward and pushing back, it becomes a smooth sexy ride that feels so fantastic; so much so that Mike can't help but do some more humping too and, as a result, he's making sounds of pleasure matched with grunts for the sharp pains in his back. We do it until climax and both of us sounds a bit wild when we blow our loads. Whew! Nothing like it, awesome stuff tonight and afterward I lay there breathing hard with Mike's cock still inside me. He mumbles, "Did ya enjoy that, Richie? It's my way of saying thanks for all your help." I say, "It was great, Mike!" I'd splattered the wall with my spunk; Mike's climax was even bigger than mine and he'd filled up my bowels alright... there's a chance he enjoyed it as much as I did. Duh, ya think? "my way to say thanks, Richie" Oh sure! that's okay; I love him to death and I don't really care how much he rationalizes our sex; I really don't. If I'm patient, some day he'll acknowledge our love for each other.
Cum is drooling from my ass as I pull off Mike's still semi-hard cock and rustle around to face him, and lay in his cooling spunk in the process. I don't care, it's Mike's cum. His face is still a little redder than normal and his expression a little stressed, but he starts casually pulling on his dick so our sex was apparently worth all the aches and pains Mike experienced; he gives me a sweet smile now and I get up tight to him so our dicks are rubbing together and we do some
nice kissing. Then, Mike quietly says, "That's just a little thank you for all you do, Richie." I give him my usual silent smile, and he gets real sincere, saying, "Did I ever tell you how much you mean to me, Richie?" This is unusual, so I do a fake dramatic pause, my eyes going to the top of their sockets like I'm trying to remember, then I say, "No, come to think of it, ya never have." He seems a little irritated, saying, "No, I didn't think so. Let me get to sleep now, will ya?!" Doing a phony chuckle, I get off the bed. He does look exhausted and I know he needs lots of sleep to help the healing along, so maybe he does want to get to sleep early tonight. I bring in his toothbrush and a cup of water, plus a washcloth for our quick before-bed ritual. Mike brushes his teeth, rinses and then I wiped his face and hands, then he takes the washcloth and washes his dick. Handing it back to me, Mike goes, "Take this away, boy!" and I go, "Ewww, it's all messy!" I bend down and kiss Mike, saying, "That was great tonight, Mike!" He nods his head, and goes, "You better come to bed soon too, I need you to lean against." As I position a pillow case over the wet cum spots on the sheet, I say, "Sure, five minutes; I'm gonna grab a quick shower." In the shower I'm pissed at myself because I fucked up that rare tender moment of Mike's by trying to be funny. When he asked, "Did I ever tell you how much you mean to me, Richie?" I should have returned his sincerity with some of my own instead of giving him a flip response. Okay, I fucked it up because he took be completely by surprise, but it's encouraging that he had a tender thought like that and I'll be ready for the next one. I'm winning him over, finally.
Anyway, sex for the next couple of weeks went pretty much like that: still hurting Mike's incision, but not enough for him to stop asking, at least once a day, "You want your corn-holing "thank-you" now, Richie?" By the way, that's another example of how Mike asks a rhetorical question when actually it's not a question at all... he's informing me what we're going to do, but informing me in a nice way. I'm always up for it and I'm too smart to tell Mike I know he's fucking me for more reasons than a "thank you". The days are moving along okay, but it's getting more and more tedious for Mike. As his recovery drags on he has some bad days when he gets those moody feeling-sorry-for-himself days where he'll snap at me; for example, when I'm trying to help him with his one-arm bath and I bump him the wrong way, it's, "Jesus! You're so clumsy. Richie! or if I get too pushy with the homework, it's like, "Ya don't need to be so fucking conscientious, Richie! We can take some short cuts once in a while, ya know," and lots of little things like that, but I understand how it's gotta be nerve-racking for Mike to constantly have stabs of pain day-after-day every time he moves the wrong way, so I cut him a lot of slack. Then, like I said, a little later he'll mumble he's sorry or he'll squeeze the back of my neck and thank me for something. It's cool, we're good! He likes company too and the guys are always coming over, same for his brother, Danny, and his mom. Danny, by the way, isn't as lucky in the looks department as Mike, but that's not to say he isn't an attractive guy 'cause he is; he just isn't in Mike's category where looks are concerned. It's obvious Danny and Mike are tight though and that's nice, but I wish Danny paid a little more attention to obeying the law once in a while.
Then, a big breakthrough after weeks of the status quo, Mike getting back the use of his left arm. After a check up at the hospital, it's decided the arm no longer needs to be secured to his side. He's been warned to use it only in the way the rehab staff advises. It's a big step forward, and even better than that, Mike's coming to school with me on Monday. He has five tests to make-up and if he passes them, which I'm confident he will, he'll be caught up with our
classes. The guidance counselor is full of praise for the job Mike and I did keeping Mike current with school work. In a smirky way I casually mention to Mike that my conscientiousness has paid off for him! He smiles sarcastically because my conscientiousness gave Mike fits. Speaking of big breakthroughs, the so-called corn-holing has also made big strides now that Mike's up and about. He still needs to go easy, but it's him that's now doing the fucking of my boy pussy, as he calls my ass, and it's no longer me more or less fucking myself on his boner. Mike prefers me on my back, on the bed, with my legs back near my head and my hole up, lubed, and ready to get fucked. He gets on his knees near my waiting asshole, a smug look and a little grin on his face. It's a great way to fuck because I get to see Mike's face and he can lean down to lick my face or kiss me, which he seems to do a lot of... especially for a straight boy who's only doing this as a favor to me. Sometimes the favor includes him sitting on my chest while I suck his cock into a boner, and then he slides back down my body and, with one smooth hip thrust, drive his cock three or four inches up my ass. Oh my, it feels so good I lick my lips and moan with pleasure. He'll lean forward then and push the rest of that hard boner of his inside me slowly, up, up, up until his crotch is snug against my buttocks. A few slow thrusts until it's going real smoothly and then he fucks me steady for fifteen to twenty full deep penetrations, getting me bucking my buttocks against his thrust and squirming on the bed making sounds of excited pleasure, and it's an awesome thing to be part off. Often I let my climax happen on it's own, without stroking myself; that's my favorite way to climax. Spontaneously climaxing isn't always possible though, Mike fucks me so good that that, plus being able to stare at his unbelievably cute sexy face, sometimes brings on the irresistible urge for orgasm and I can't stop myself from stroking my boner, and do I ever climax hard! Oh my god, I almost black out every time. Sometimes I can feel when Mike fire that first hard spitball of spunk inside me and if I haven't had an orgasm yet, that'll bring one on immediately. I love being filled up back there with Mike's warm, sticky, creamy, teen boy cum; it feels so good, it's indescribable!
The sex is amazing, but it's not our whole relationship. We like being together and sometimes we'll go a couple of hours without talking; maybe watching TV or doing video games or reading; whatever, we're perfectly comfortable with the silence. Don't get me wrong, ours isn't a fifty-fifty relationship; Mike's in charge although neither of us puts it that way, we just both know it's that way. I do things Mike's way because I want to, and that's all there is to it. I want to because it makes him happy and when Mike's happy, I'm happy. This type of one-sided relationship might not work for others, but it works for us. His rehab doesn't work for us all that well though, it turns out to be one more way to cause Mike pain and many a day he's cursing Jose for that cowardly act of stabbing him in the back. And speaking of that shit-bag, Jose... there won't even be a trial for his crime because Jose's lawyer accepted plea bargain that'll put Jose behind bars for two to four years, and while that sounds okay, Mike's brother says Jose, with good behavior, will be out on probation in a year. Mike and Danny talk some nights of revenge, but I'm thinking they're both too smart to stir that wasp's nest again. There are other disappointment too; like Mike being unable to join the wrestling team this year although, from my point of view, I can't say I'm all that disappointed about that because those guys go through hell at practice every day and I know if Mike's on the team, I'll be on it too.
After a few disappointing set backs, Mike finally completed his rehab today and, except for an occasional shooting pain in the area of the nasty looking scar, he's pretty much moved on from that unfortunate incidence. It's become obvious to us that during Mike's recovery period his dad and Mike's mom began dating regularly somewhere along the way. Mike and me roll our eyes over that, but what ya gonna do? We think they've probably been dating for longer then we realize and that's significant to us only because it means Mike's pretty much a full-time, long-time guest here; now it's an accepted fact that he's like a member of the family. And I get to kid around with him like, "Aw, I never had a brother before... he ain't heavy, he's me brother!" Mike and I go to school each day although it was me driving his motorbike the first couple of weeks, then after school we hang out with the guys on the boardwalk or the mall, later we fix our dinner together, then do our homework, then chill until bedtime. Sprinkled in with those activities we do sex whenever we can sneak it in and as a result we're not horny boys anymore; we don't even need to get fucked every night. If Mike's tired or he needs to do one of those mystery tours with his brother, we'll skip it for the night. We usually sleep together in the twin bed though, the sleeping bag's only a decoy. Mike's become very affectionate; maybe he even likes making-out and dry docking more than than I do; well, okay, let's not gets crazy here. Not more than I do, but a lot more than he'll ever admit to himself. We still have occasional disagreements of course, but I usually give in so the spats don't last long, certainly never more than a day or night. Mike's back to like ninety-five percent of full strength and getting stronger each week. Life is good.
One lazy unseasonably warm Saturday morning in November Mike and I are enjoying the nice weather chillin' on our little front porch. We're reading the paper, we've got a cup of coffee and a cigarette going for us, and very little conversation. The radio's playing some rock tunes inside the house which we can hear on the porch, so it's cool. Hearing a truck coming down our back street, I look up from the sports page and see a moving van parking at the curb of the vacant row home two doors down from ours. I mumble to Mike, "Someone's moving into the Arnolds place already." Mike goes, "Oh yeah? Man, I hope there's a cute girl in the family, a hottie who's around my age!" I go, "Riiiight!" as two guys get out of the truck and a new Toyota Camry parks next to the van. Getting up to get a better look I see as a middle age lady get out the driver's side of the Camry and a boy about our age getting out of the other side. There's a tree blocking a clear view for me so I don't get a good look at the teenage boy, but the little I saw of him was okay. The lady unlocks the front door of the house and the two men begin hauling the furniture into the house. I ask Mike, "Did ya see what the kid looks like?" Mike goes, "Good grief, Richie. Can't ya keep your homosexual nature under wraps once in awhile?" All I can think of is: in the hospital, talking to Ronny, Mike claims neither of us is gay, but when it's just Mike and me, I'm the gay boy and he, Mike, is straight. Oh brother! He sounds a little pissed when I asked if he saw what the new kid looks like, but it might not be for the reason he said... maybe he's a little jealousy that I'm interested, ya know? In any case, Mike's gotta be the greatest rationalizer who ever lived. I mean, if he can pull it off in his head that he's straight after all the making-out and fucking he's done with me, that's some kind of rationalizing alright! I smile to myself, but don't say anything except an exasperated exhale. Mike, sitting in the old rocking chair, looks over at me with a stern expression on his face and I give him back a big bright smile, he tries not to, but can't help smiling back. Shaking his head, he mutters, "You're something else, Richie..."
The two middle age men unloading the furniture are of no interest to me, and the teenager hasn't reappear so I lose interest and go back to the sports page. After a bit Mike says, "Richie, do me a favor and scratch that goddamn scar on my back. I can't reach the fucker with either hand." It's still hasn't healed all the way down to where the point of the knife penetrated, but as it does heal, a fraction of an inch at a time, deeper and deeper, it itches like crazy and it's not scratching he needs so much as deep massaging of the area around the scar, which I do. I'm rubbing hard on Mike's sweat shirt at spot I know the scar is, and as I'm doing it, I light-heartedly say, "God! I love the way you smell, Mike," and then I purposely bump my nose on the top of his recently buzzed head, almost laying on him." Before Mike can give what I expect will be a rude response, we hear, "Oh, sorry, guys. Didn't realize you're into something here that you'd probably rather do alone." I go, "Huh?" and look over to see this nice looking boy, the one who got out of the Camry. What'd he mean by we're, "Into something?" I'm flustered, and say, too fast, "Nah, no! We're not into that... not into what you said!" I point to Mike's shoulder and add, "He has an itch he can't reach. Whaddaya mean, anyway?" Mike interrupts my sputtering, calmly asking, "You the one just moved in down the street there?" I'm pissed at myself for letting this new kid get me flustered so I turn away and look inside the house, through the front window, at nothing. My face feels warn as I'm wondering, "Did this kid hear me tell Mike he smells good?" The new kid answers Mike's question in kind of an arrogant tone, "Yeah I am; geez, you're smart! That place is kind of a dump though, ain't it?" Mike doesn't respond to that, so the kid goes on, "Me and my mother are merely renting that lovely dump. You both live here?" Mike answers for us because I'm still intently staring at nothing, hoping my blush runs out of steam. Mike goes, "Richie lives in, as you put it, this dump. Him and his old man; I'm a dump guest."
I hear the kid climbing the three steps, joining us on the porch. He goes, "Your buddy a masseuse or something?" Mike has an edge to his voice, "What do you think?" The new kid, displaying a smart ass attitude, says, "Hell, I don't know. He was massaging you, ya know? So I wondered... that's all." Mike goes, "To be a masseuse, he'd need to be a woman. Does he look like a woman to you?" "Huh?" from the stranger. Mike says, "Yeah, a guy who does massages is called a masseurs." I sneak a peek at the new kid as I'm lighting a cigarette, he's saying, "Whoa! A brainiac! I knew you were smart right off the bat. The way you guessed I'm the new kid and all. Now all this masseuse, masseurs information. Wow, but come on, you knew what I meant, right?" Mike goes, "Yeah, I know exactly what ya meant." There's no shortage of testosterone floating around so the new kid hesitates a second, and I guess decides to drop that, instead he says, "Well, anyway I'm Tom Brown and I'm glad ta meet ya." He takes a couple of steps over to Mike who gives a one-shake handshake, half standing out of the rocking chair, saying, "Yo, how ya doing? I'm Mike Sullivan, and this shy buddy of mine is Richie Mealey. If ya really wanna know, I'm rehabbing a knife wound and Richie was massaging the scar tissue cause it itches like a bitch down deep, and he's nice enough to help me out with it." That of course generates questions about the knife wound, which Mike gives a sketchy account of. We discover Tom will be going into the same grade as us and blah, blah, blah. The more he talks the more it seems to me there's something 'off' about this kid. His appearance is very good, but his personality is 'off'. I check him out as he spouts off a long seemingly braggadocio story about his exploits at his last school. His body is kinda hot actually, and I can tell it is because even though it's November in New Jersey, he's wearing flip flops on his feet and tight gym shorts, and that's all. Mike and me are wearing sweat shirts and jeans. Okay, this kid's odd, but he's got a smooth taut torso, a nice face that doesn't quite make it all the way to cute, and an okay regular haircut with no piercings or tattoos.
Just to get in the conversation, I ask, "Your name really Tom Brown?" I ask it like I find it hard to believe and I'm kinda trying for a little humor here too. He takes it as a challenge though, and taking a step towards me, he says, "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" Intimidating! I step back, and mumble, "Ya know. Tom Brown School Days or school house, or something. It's a book or an old movie. I don't know... forget about it already." He intimidates me, and I don't like him. Tom stares at me hard for a few seconds, then looks over to Mike, and asks, "You have any fucking idea what he's talking about?" Mike nods his head up and down, and says, "Yeah, I do. But here's a more important thing to consider: Richie's my best bud so if you're thinking ya might dump on him a little, or maybe try to ridicule him, or something like that, I'm strongly advising you against it... that's all." Mike said it all calmly, and Tom's cool as a cucumber too, he says, "Well, thanks for the advise. Advise is a good thing sometimes and once in a while I even follow it, but not too often. Ya know?" I'm staring at him with my lips parted; I'm wondering, "What planet is this kid from?" and then I notice he has the same shade of green eyes as me, and to be honest I gotta admit he's sexy. And no, I don't mean just because of his eyes; although we both do have sexy bedroom eyes. I'm joking again... even though it's true! Maybe he's looking hot because he's almost naked, I don't know... but he is hot, except he's also an asshole so maybe those two things cancel each other out and leave him as a zero.
Mike appears to have lost interest in Tom Brown as he lights a cigarette staring down the street at the movers; they're having trouble getting a large sofa through the front door. Mike takes a drag and exhales a long stream of smoke that he must know will drift right into Tom's face. I control a grin at that, then light another cigarette of my own from habit; when I see Mike light one, I light one whether I want it or not. Then, trying to bury the hatchet, I offer Tom a cigarette; what the hell he's our neighbor, two doors down. Tom looks at me intently while running his tongue over his lips; then he probes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, maybe imitating a cock in there, and says, "Oh, no thank you, Ricky, I don't smoke." I mumble, "It's Richie," and he adds, "By the way, have either of you children heard the rumor going around lately; it's been, oh I don't know; something like twenty-five fucking years. Ya know, the rumor that cigarettes cause lung cancer and heart desease and all kinds of bad things, including bad breath. Yeah, and I believe even the owners of the cigarette companies agree with that. Did ya hear anything about any of that?" Mike blows a couple of smoke rings, and says, "No shit. Bad breath too? Whoa!" The exhaled smoke curls around Tom's head and he waves his hands at it like a girl. Mike says, "Tom, you forgot to get dressed today. What's up with that?" Tom laughs a phony sounding laugh, and says, "What, you don't like flip flops?" Then he asks, "You guys aren't brothers are you, ya don't look alike. Oh wait, that's right, you're just a dump guest; right Mike?" Mike blows out more smoke, and says, "You don't retain information all that well, do ya,Tom? I told ya that before, plus I told you that Richie's my best bud. So, no... we're not brothers, not really... not in the sense you meant."
Tom's tight gym shorts bulge at the crotch and I find myself staring at it as he banters negative vibes back and forth with Mike. I gotta admit, that's a hell of a body on this kid, and then I feel him watching me stare at his package. My face turns scarlet as I slowly lift my eyes to verify what I felt; he's looking right back into my green eyes, a big smirk on his face as he cups his package and squeezes it lightly. The heat off my face could start a forrest fire as I turn to once again look into my house, at nothing. Tom changes the subject and tells us he and his mother lived in New York for a few years but it got too expensive there so they're having a home built in Camden, which will take the better part of six months. They're holing up here, in this hole, until the new home's completed. He manages to insult us again, while exempting himself. He says, "What a pain in the ass the drive from New York was. We got stuck behind an accident on the New York three-way for almost an hour." I turn, to correct him, "It's the New York thru-way, not three-way?" He goes, "That's what I said," and I insist he said three-way. Mike flicks his cigarette butt into the street, and interrupts me, to say, "Richie, he said three-way, and he knows it. He said it on purpose 'cause he's a wise-ass with a wrong idea in his sick little head." Tom laughs, and says, "Oh man, you guys are funny. A lot of laughs and it's gonna be fun living so close to you all. Yeah, but I gotta take off now. Great meeting ya both! Ciao for now." He swaggers down the steps; he's got a great ass on him too... and now I'm pissed at myself for having that thought. Mike lights another cigarette, takes a big inhale snaking his head slightly side to side, and then, with smoke's drifting from his mouth, he says, "There goes trouble, Richie! Trouble with a capital fucking T.
to be continued...
Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com