Punking Mike

Punking Mike, Part 2

Punking Mike, Part 2

Max H.  lilperv76@yahoo.com
Chapter 4

This story involves sex between guys.  If you shouldn't be reading stuff like that, move on.

The characters in this story, this fantasy, may not always practice safe sex.  In the world we live in everyone should practice safe sex.

It's okay to print this story out or save it to disc, but it remains my property.  Don't transfer it to another website or archive without my permission.

GP = Gage Patrick  MK = Mike Cronin

GP:      

We took care of getting Mike an Ohio driver's license and a membership in my gym.  The Tuesday after we had gone car shopping, he drove to Kent and enrolled.  He called IU and arranged to have his transcript sent, and, against my better judgment, he tentatively declared himself an English major.  Of all people, Terry, my yard boy, went with him, took him around, helped him find all the right offices, and generally introduced him to the campus.  I thought the University of Akron, being closer, would make sense, but he wanted to go to Kent, and I wasn't going to complain.  Kent isn't really all that much further from this part of the county, and it was good to see him excited about going back to school.  I was also glad he'd found a friend already.  Terry had always seemed to be a nice, steady kid.

I realize I'm sounding like Mike's father!  I worried that he saw me as an old guy, more a father figure than a partner.  And whatever happened to him earlier that summer, it left him skittish as newborn colt.  Mike was by nature, I think, a happy, high-spirited guy.  But sometimes when he thought he'd ticked me off, he became almost abject, cowed.  He must have come awfully close to having his spirit broken by the events of the summer, both at home and later in Key West.  I still hadn't heard that story, and, though I didn't want to pressure him to tell it before he was ready, I thought I needed to know what had transpired if I was to be what he needed me to be.  And I resolved to be very careful what I said to him so as not to bring on one of those whipped pup states he occasionally went into.

Part of the problem seemed to be that, though we were having, I thought, wonderful sex, he seemed to want something more from me than I was giving him.

One night we had gotten into bed and I was flicking his nip rings with my tongue and then gently tugging on them with my teeth.  Afraid I'd hurt him, I was being very gentle.  He obviously liked what I was doing, and the more I played with and pulled the rings, the more he groaned his pleasure.  Mike would top me when I asked him to, but his preference was always to bottom.  That night as we lay there spent after our sex,  coming down from our mutual high, Mike, looking at the ceiling rather than at me, said, "Gage, have you ever thought about getting a piercing?"

"Not really."

"Don't you like mine?"

"Mike, on you, stud, they're great."

"How about having an ear done?"

"A broker with an earring?  I don't think so."

He chuckled.  "You never know, some of your clients might see you in a whole new light."

It was my turn to chuckle.  "I'm sure they would, but it probably wouldn't be a favorable one.  They have to see me as someone totally solid, someone they trust to give them advice about their financial strategies."

"Well, if you got your nips done, we could match, and nobody at the office would ever know."

"They'd know at the gym, and word gets around."

He rolled over and rose up on an elbow.  "You could get just one done and take it out before you used the gym.  Word must have gotten to your clients what a beautiful cock you have, big boy!"  

I was about to tell him I'd think about it, but my reply was stifled by a kiss.

MC:

Kent State has a nice campus.  I was surprised to learn it has as many students as the Bloomington campus of IU.  I had no idea it was that big.  I was glad Terry was there to show me around. Even though fall term classes weren't starting for a week or so, I still had to stand in a lot of lines.  But they handled things efficiently.  I was accepted provisionally upon receipt of my transcript from Indiana.  I had called the registrar's office there, given them my name, social, and credit card number, and they said they'd send a transcript to Kent State.  

Terry spent the rest of the morning showing me around.  We had lunch at a pub he liked called Noplace, and then drove back home.  He was majoring in landscape design and loved it.  He had been on the swim team in high school and had that kind of build, but he said he didn't think he was good enough to swim for the university, so he hadn't gone out for the team.

>From all his outdoor work during the summer, he had a great tan.  His dark blond hair was cut short and he left it flat on his head instead of using gel and spiking it up.  He had very pale blue eyes.  One great-looking dude.  And I enjoyed being with him.  He was sort of quiet, but he had a sense of humor, and once in a while I'd see a kind of flash in his eyes that I thought was pretty hot.  For sure, I was glad I had him for a friend.  He promised me he'd introduce me to his friends when classes began.

As we were finishing our burgers, fries, and beer, he said, "Uh, Mike, there's something I've got to ask you."

"Yeah, dude?"

"Let's wait until we get outside, okay?"

"Sure."

When we were back in my spiffy new SUV, he asked, as he buckled his belt, "Are you gay, Mike?"

"More or less."

He grinned at me.  "What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Cronin?  How can you be more or less gay?"

I relaxed.  Gage never denied being gay, though he tried not to flaunt it.  I supposed there wasn't any problem about coming out to Terry.  "Until last spring I was as straight as they come, or so I thought.  But, let's just say, some things happened over the summer to show me that I like sex with guys.  So I suppose I'm bi.  Why?  Is that a problem?"

"Not at all.  I knew Mr. Patrick was gay, and since you're suddenly living with him, I assumed you were gay."

I grinned.  "I could be his nephew or something."

"Yeah, but you're not, are you?"

"Nope.  I'm his partner, strange as it seems."

"Why strange?"

"Well, there's fifteen years difference in our ages.  Sixteen actually."

"Mike, you and Mr. P. are both great looking guys.  If you are happy together, what difference does age make?"

"I hope you're right, Terry.  I owe him a lot.  And I want to make him happy."

"Dude, it's none of my business, and we don't know each other all that well, so if I'm out of line, just tell me . . ."

"Yeah?  Go on.

"Do you want to make him happy because he's a meal ticket, or do you really care about him?"

"Damn, man!  You believe in just puttin' it out there, don't you?"

"Sorry.  Didn't mean to piss you off."

"I'm not pissed.  Just a little surprised.  But you know, I worry.  I don't want Gage to think I'm just using him because he's got money and is good to me.  I really care about him.  And he IS gorgeous."

"He is that!"

"So, Terry, I assume from this conversation that you're gay, too?"

"Gay all the way, man!"

"So tell me, do you know other gays on campus?"

"Yeah, I know several.  There are even some openly gay faculty members.  I know one in the English department who's pretty popular.  Sad case there.  He had a student lover last year, and they're not together any more, or so I hear. I also hear there's a new hire in that department, a young guy who's supposed to be gay."

"Word gets around fast, doesn't it?"

"Sure does.  You know, there's a growing group called the SGA, the Straight/Gay Alliance.  Last year's president was a cool dude, but he graduated and I don't know who'll get elected this year.  Would you like to come to a meeting with me?"

"Yeah, why not?"

We drove back to Gage's place, where Terry had left his truck.  We bumped fists and I thanked him showing me all around.  "It's good to have a friend already, Ter.  Wanna come in for a while?"

"Thanks, Mike, but I gotta get home."

"Okay.  Thanks for showin' me around."

"No prob, guy.  See ya."

I didn't want to tell Terry, but his meal ticket question touched a raw nerve.  First of all, I was grateful more than I knew how to say to Gage for hauling my ass off that beach in Florida.  I don't really think I'd have come north with him, though, if I hadn't really liked him.  The time we spent together in Key West was enough that I knew I really loved being with him.  For openers, he's totally hot.  I never looked at him and saw an older guy.  I just looked at him and saw a beautiful blond bear.  Age never came into it.  But the more time I spent with him, the more impressed I was with the guy who lived inside that hot bod.  He was hot, but he was SO cool.  He reminded me of some of my dad's friends, guys who had been places, who knew their way around, who had the world by the ass and were enjoying it.  So I knew before we left Key West that I wanted to spend some more time with this amazing guy who for some reason had taken a liking to me.  It took me weeks, by the way, to realize that he did like me and that I wasn't just some charity case in his eyes.

After we got to his house, I couldn't believe how generous he was to me.  He bought the Range Rover and put it in my name jointly with his.  He bought me all kinds of clothes.  And a computer.  He got me a membership in his gym so we could work out together.  And he was paying my tuition at KSU.  I couldn't really understand why he'd do that.  I'm not a special person, and I was a boy slut when he found me.  

I'm not putting this very well.  Here's the deal.  I was totally grateful to Gage.  I thought he was maybe the hottest man I'd ever seen.  I loved being with him.  We had great sex together, even if it was – well more about that later.  I wanted to make him happy.  But I didn't want to be just his kept boy.  I wanted him to know how grateful I was to him and how much I enjoyed being with him.  Sometimes, though, I'd be so relaxed and having so much fun, I'd forget how much I owed him.  He was always patient with me, but when I thought I had said the wrong thing or hurt him or pissed him off, I was really sick.  I knew he didn't deserve that from me, and I felt like I should just thank him and leave.  He was always great, though. He kept reassuring me that we were equal partners, and that I should always tell him what I thought.

Equal partners.  Right.  How could I ever be his equal?

I had another problem, too, but that one turned out to be easier to deal with.  That first time I was at the Cross's, Gus had been pretty distant.  I could tell he wasn't sure about me.  Afterward, as I thought about it, I realized that he might be jealous.  Obviously he really liked his "Uncle Gage."  They had a special relationship.  And now here was this guy who was a lot younger than Gage, closer to Gus's age than Gage's actually, who'd moved in and assumed an important place in his "uncle's" life.  

One evening the next week I called the Cross house and got Bev.  I chatted with her for a few minutes and then told her I'd like to take Gus to a movie and then for something to eat afterward if she thought he'd like that and it was okay with her and Brent.  She said she thought that was a great idea, and she'd put Gus on the phone.

Gus wasn't as enthusiastic as I'd hoped he'd be, but when I told him he could chose the flick and the place where we'd eat, he agreed.

The film he wanted to see was an action adventure story rated PG-13.  I checked with Bev to make sure it was okay, and she said she thought there'd be no problem.  The ticket taker gave him a funny look, but I said, "It's okay, he's my brother and he's 13."
The guy took our tickets and waved us through.   After we got out of earshot of the ticket guy, Gus, carrying a big carton of popcorn, looked back over his shoulder at me.  

"Your brother, huh?  Cool!"  Then he gave me one of his smiles, which had been pretty rare up to that point.

He asked if we could go to Applebee's for ribs afterward instead of getting a burger, and that was fine with me.  We talked some about the movie, but he was, as usual, pretty quiet.

"Gus, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Mike."  

"You don't like me much, do you?"

He seemed embarrassed and looked down at his food for so long I thought he wasn't going to answer me.

"Hey, sorry, little buddy, I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

He looked up.  "There isn't any reason why I shouldn't like you, Mike.  You seem like a nice guy, and all.  And I appreciate you bringing me to the movies and here this afternoon."  Then he gave me the tiniest grin.  "And it's kinda cool bein' with a college dude."

"But there IS a problem, isn't there?"

"Nah.  Not really.  I think I've just been a little jealous, and I hadn't realized it until you asked me what was wrong a minute ago."

"Gus, would you tell me why you're feeling jealous?"

"Well, Uncle Gage has always been real good to me."  He paused for a minute and then gave me a pleading look.  "Promise you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell ya?"

"You got it!"

"Gage is a lot more fun than my dad.  Dad is just, like, real serious all the time.  I mean, I know he loves me and all, but he doesn't seem to want to do much stuff with me.  Gage is the one who does things with me like we've done this afternoon.  He always has, ever since I was a kid."

"And you think because I'm here that will stop?"

"Yeah, well, I guess."

"Gus, dude, look at it this way.  You still have your Uncle Gage, and now you have a big brother, too.  You said you thought that was cool, didn't you?"

He thought about that for a minute while he chewed on a French fry.  Then his face broke into the biggest smile he'd ever given me, and I wanted to hug the daylights out of him.  He was across the table from me, and besides, I didn't want to embarrass him, so I didn't.

"You'd be my big brother?  Honest?"

"Absolutely.  In fact, Gage and I were wondering if you'd like to come to a Browns' game with us."

"Oh, man, that'd be way cool!  You mean it?"

"For sure, dude.  We'd ask your dad and mom if they wanted to come, too, of course."

"Oh, Mom wouldn't want to come.  I don't know whether Dad would or not."

"Well, I'll talk to Gage and he will talk to your folks, okay?"

He grinned again.  There was a little catsup on his chin.  I reached over and wiped it off.  "Wow!  Maybe we can go to the Colts game and watch the Browns whip their butts!"

I chuckled.  "You wish!"

Later on, as he was devouring a big fudge nut sundae, he looked up at me, his spoon poised to shove another load of ice cream and chocolate syrup into his mouth.  "Mike, I know Uncle Gage is gay, so you must be, too, right?  I mean you're two guys living together."

I swallowed.  "Well, yeah, Gus.  Neither one of us will lie about being gay.  He just doesn't want to broadcast it too much because of his and your dad's business, you know."

"Yeah, that's what Dad told me."

"Is that a problem for you?"

I was beginning to think the restaurant wasn't the place for this discussion, but it was pretty noisy, and I figured no one could hear us.

"Not really," he answered.  Then he gave me something like a leer.  "Not unless you come on to me."

"Whoa, Gus.  You just punched a button.  You need to understand that most gay guys aren't pedophiles any more than most straight men are."

"I remember that word from a discussion we had in class last year.  Pedophiles are guys who like boys, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm not a boy.  I'm a teen!  Or at least I'm gonna be in a couple of weeks."

"Speaking of that, Gus, how do you feel about girls?  Or female teens, if you prefer," I said, winking at him.

"Oh, I used to never want anything to do with girls.  I always thought they were bossy and silly and giggly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  But now I bone up every time I see a cute girl.  And even when I think of a cute girl.  In fact, it seems like I'm on the bone about all the time."

I chuckled.  "Well, that's about par for guys your age.  Seems to me you're right on schedule.  Have you and your dad talked about sex yet?"

"Yeah, I've had `the lecture,' and, of course, we talked about it last year in school.  I mean in class.  My buddies and I all talk about it when we're together after school."

He finished his sundae and put down his spoon.

"Mike?"

"Yeah, dude?"

"When you were my age, did you throw wood when you looked at cute guys?"

This was getting uncomfortable, but I thought I had to answer him.

"Gus, when I was your age, I boned up looking at anybody cute, male or female.  And, to be honest, I ignored that when it happened around guys.  I dated all through high school and last year at Indiana.  Had a great steady girlfriend when school ended last spring."

"Yeah?  Did you prong her?"

"Gus, I'm not sure that's any of your business."

"Oh," he grinned.  "Then ya did!"

It was my turn to grin.  "Yeah, I've had sex with several women."

He sucked the last of his Pepsi through the straw and made that gurgling noise mothers hate.  "So was it Gage that turned ya gay?"

Oh, boy, this was getting more and more uncomfortable.

"There's another misconception, Gus.  People can't turn gay.  Everything I've read suggests that we're born with our sexual orientation.  Now I realize that doesn't seem to make sense after what I've told you.  In my case, if I realized anything like that back when I was your age, I just stifled it.  I couldn't be gay.  No way!  And I was a happy `straight' until something happened last summer."

His eyes got big.  "Wow!  What happened?"

"Gus, I'm going to have to draw the line there.  Some of it was pleasant and some of it was really painful.  I haven't even told Gage about it yet.  Let's just say that I learned that I like sex with the right guy even more than sex with females."

"Aww!  Aren't you ever going to tell me?"

"Maybe, some day.  After I've had more time to process it.  Now, do you want anything else to eat or drink?"

He burped and then blushed.  "Oops!  I'm sorry!  Mom really gets on my case when I do that."

I laughed.  "Yeah, moms are like that.  Mine did, too.  But I guess when it's just us guys, it's okay.  So, ya ready to go?"

"Yeah."  He gave me another of his big smiles.  "Thanks, Mike. You're a cool big bro."

GP:

One evening when I got home from work, after we had hugged and kissed, I told Mike I thought he really needed to tell me what had happened to him the previous summer.  "After all, if we're really partners, we have to share, don't we?  I need to try to share that pain you've been carrying around ever since you left home."

"Can we wait until after supper?"

"Sure, babe."

We fixed the meal together.  Mike knew how to do some basic things, and we had fun as I taught him to prepare things he'd never made before.  That night, however, he didn't eat much, and he seemed subdued, but I understood why.

After the dishes were in the dishwasher, I led him into the great room.

"You want a beer or something before you start, babe?"

"Nah, Gage, that's not going to help.  Let me just lay it out for you."

And he did.  The whole sad story.  I was simultaneously sad for Mike and furious with Seth Watkins.  And I couldn't understand the actions of his parents, either.  How could they both have deserted him after what happened?

When Mike finished his narrative, I was crying, but he wasn't.  He just looked – empty, blank.  I got up and went over to him, pulling him up.  I hugged him tight, nuzzling his hair.  "Mikey, sweetheart, I've got a million questions, but not right now, okay?  Let me just hold you.  And, baby I understand now why you've put off telling me.  I hope it didn't hurt too much.  I love it that you'd trust me enough to tell me all this."

We went to one of the sofas and sat.  He kicked off his sandals and sort of stretched out, leaning his head against my chest.  I wrapped my arms around him and put my nose back into his hair.  I could feel his tension at first, but gradually it ebbed.  We must have stayed that way for an hour.  My right arm had gone to sleep, but I wasn't about to move as long as he wanted to stay there.  Eventually, he pulled away, gave me a wan smile, and said he was hungry.

"What'll you have, babe?"

"Oh, I think just some cookies maybe."

"We got that.  Maybe this weekend we can make some cookies, but right now there are store cookies in the cookie canister.  Sure you don't want a drink?"

"No, thanks.  I'd rather just have the cookies and milk."

"Well, I think I'll have some JD."

We sat at the kitchen table. He was pensive, looking down at his glass of milk.  I set down my drink and put my forearms on the table.  He continued to look down.  "A penny for your thoughts."

Without looking up, he said, "I'm just wondering why you haven't kicked me out, now that you know what I've done."

"Mike.  Look at me.  Give me your hands."

He looked up, surprised, I think, by the command in my tone.  He reached both hands across the table and I took them in mine.  "Listen to me.  You were a victim throughout the whole sordid mess.  Seth Watkins is a bastard who deserves to be where he is.  You and Jason and your father were all used and exploited for Seth's pleasure.  Or his desire to please his dad.  Whatever.  But none of that was your fault.  None of it, babe.  You've got to know that."

He continued to look at me.  His face still showed distress.  "I tell myself that, Gage, over and over.  But I can't get away from the fact that I ruined my dad's career and now he doesn't want anything to do with me."

"Mike, If someone cuts down a tree with an axe, is it the axe's fault if the tree falls?"

He thought about that.  "Well, only in a very literal, legalistic sense."  

"If the tree shouldn't have been cut down, whose fault was it?"

"The guy who used the axe, I suppose."

"And . . . ?"

He gave me a faint smile. "I was the axe, Dad was the tree, and Seth was the bastard who brought him down?"

I squeezed his hands.  "Exactly."

"Well, Mom still doesn't want anything to do with either one of us.  She said she was getting a divorce when she left home.  And Dad couldn't face me, avoided me until I left town.  I did hear later that he'd quit his job."

"I can imagine the publicity would make keeping such a high-profile position pretty difficult.  But he was manipulated, too.  I'm sure a man as smart as he is would realize that you and he were both Seth's victims."

"Well, I heard he moved to California."

"Mike, I said I'd hold my questions until later.  Do you want to drop all this for now and go to bed, or watch tv, or something."

"No, actually, Gage, it's good to talk about it, to get some of it off my chest.  And to get someone else's perspective on it, you know?"

"Okay.  Then another question.  Do you have any idea what became of Jason?"

"No.  I didn't see him again after we danced for the Cadre.  He was supposed to start to college in the fall, and the original plan was that he'd come to Indiana.  We'd talked about rooming together."

"Aren't you curious about what happened to him?"

"Yeah.  Very."

"What about your dad?  Wouldn't you like to at least tell him you're alive?  You wouldn't have to tell him where you are if you didn't want to."

"I don't have any idea how to find either one of them."

"Isn't there anybody back home you could call to ask?  A high school or university friend who lives there?"

"Well, maybe, but they all know I'm gay and probably won't want to have anything to do with me."

"How about that roommate you mentioned.  I suppose he's back at IU."

"Yeah, but he told me that night I'd betrayed him or something.  I don't think he'd give me the time of day."

"Even if he knew Seth was blackmailing you into doing what you did?"

"I don't know . . . ."

"Well, babe, keep all this in mind.  That's enough for now."

"You're sure you're okay with all this?"

"Mikey, I could cry, babe.  But I'm glad you felt you could finally tell me about all of it.  I not only care for you, but I respect you.  You've come through all of that and you're still one of the most decent people I've ever known.  Besides," and I winked at him, "you're a really hot fuck."

He chuckled and stood up.  He put away the cookie tin, rinsed his glass, and put it in the dishwasher.  "Then it's about time to go upstairs, don't you think?"

After we showered together, I put some bath towels down on the bed and told Mike to lie down on his stomach.  Straddling him, practically sitting on his bubble butt, I poured some massage oil into my hands and then began to work on his neck and shoulders.

"Ooh, Gage, that's soo nice.  Where did you learn to do that?"

"Well, let's just say there used to be someone else in my life who liked me to do this."  He was tactful enough not to ask the question that must have popped into his mind, and I was grateful.

I worked down each arm as he lay there, eyes closed, smiling and groaning occasionally.  When I'd finished with the arms I worked the heels of my hands down the ridge of muscle on either side of his spine, replenishing the oil as needed.  When I got to his waist, I got up and moved to a position at his feet.  I lingered over his toes, playing with each, then massaging the entire foot.  After the feet I moved gradually up his right leg, stopping at his ass.  Then I did the left leg.  This time I didn't stop at his ass.  Instead I kneaded the firm muscles in each beautiful globe, moving gradually toward the crevice between them.  I got some more oil, put it on my fingers, and then began to slide them slowly into his crack.  This wasn't massage any more, but I'm not sure whether Mike noticed the difference.  At least he didn't complain.  When I got to his pucker, I tickled it with the end of my finger and said, "Roll over, studly."

"I'm not sure I want to, but if you insist."

"Trust me, babe, you'll want to."

After he rolled over, I went right to work on his neck and chest, rubbing oil into his skin.  I spent a lot of time on his hard, flat pecs, playing with his nipples, not forgetting to flick the rings in them from time to time.  Those rings did make the most interesting playthings.  I couldn't help wondering what it felt like to have them and to have someone fiddle with them.

Mike's belly was beautifully flat, but his abs weren't particularly pronounced.  As he'd remarked, he hadn't been able to work out much since school was out the previous spring.  But I enjoyed sliding my oily hands around on his belly, sticking my finger in his innie navel, and sliding on down to his still bare pubic area.  By that time his cock was hard and I had to lift it off his abdomen to get the oil rubbed in properly.

I didn't put my oily hands on his tool or his nice fat balls because I thought my mouth would be there very soon.  Mike had other ideas.

"Gage, c'mere."  He put out his arms.  I straddled him on all fours and he pulled me down for a kiss.  A long, hot kiss.  When we finally pulled apart, sucking in lungsful of air, he said, "Gage, fuck me.  Please?"

"I don't want to do that, Mikey."

He looked panicked.  "What?  What have I done?  Why not?"

I chuckled.  "Relax, babe.  I don't want to fuck you.  I want to make love to you."

He thought briefly about that and then grinned.  "You know, that's coming pretty close to saying you love me.  Better be careful."

"Well, stud, you've never said you love me, either."

"I'm sorry, Gage.  I thought you knew that."

"Mikey, I WANT to say it.  I love you, babe."

He gave me a pulled me down on top of him.  "Oh, God, Gage, I've never felt about anybody the way I feel about you.  It's got to be love, man."

We made long, slow, beautiful love before going to sleep in each other's arms.

To be continued.