WAITING FOR A MIRACLE
by Donny Mumford
Chapter 12 "The Real Deal 2"
Thursday was a rough day at work because last night, I didn't get to bed until midnight and then was up at six o'clock this morning. So that's not ideal, but I made it through the day, and now I'm reenergized on my way to pick up Mickey. Tough day, but I'm glad I agreed to go to Lake Lenape Park or, as Mickey calls it, 'our spot.' It was his idea and kinda crazy for a weeknight, but it was sexy fun. Yep, extemporaneous sexy fun and good for bonding with a boyfriend, making memories.
As I coast up to Mickey's house, I see he's standing at the curb again. He looks like a kid waiting for the school bus. Yeah, he's not big, and he looks, age-wise, closer to fifteen than nineteen. No, he wasn't blessed with a cute face, but it's a friendly sort of innocent 'looking' face, and youthful; plus, his haircut has REALLY improved his appearance. I'm very pleased with my boyfriend, and when he sees me, there's his smile! That's a cute 'look.'
I grin at him, stopping next to where he's standing. Putting the window down, I'm like, "Hey little fellow, do you like candy?" He laughs out loud and then goes, "Do ya got Reese's Pieces, mister?" I feel good he was standing there waiting for me. He has trust that I'll come for him, and trust is good.
Mickey gets in the car, saying, "Sorry I konked-out during the drive home last night. That was rude of me." I'm like, "What, no kiss, 'hello'?" He goes, "Hell, I'll do it right here. You know I want to." Shaking my head, I mumble, "Nah, I was practicing my joking-around-technique. I'm not into kissing 'hello' or 'goodbye' although I really like our 'hot' make-outs, our hidden, hot make-outs."
He mumbles, "Because we're in the closet, right?" I nod as I'm driving away, saying, "That reminds me. I've been meaning to ask you, ah, well, does your dad suspect? Ya know, that you're gay." He shrugs, "It's unspoken, but we've both acknowledged it, um, yeah, it's sort of understood I'm gay." I'm like, "How so?" Mickey makes a 'face,' saying, "I don't know, um, I'm pretty sure he's known for like two years or so, but neither of us has said the word 'gay.' Maybe he's waiting for me to make it official or something like that."
I'm like, "How does that work? I mean, what happened that made you think he knows?" Shrugging again, Mickey says, "Well, because I've never said I wasn't, I guess. Like when dad and I are watching our HBO series on Tuesday night, he might say, 'that babe's a hottie, huh, Mickey?' and before I can answer, he'll add something like 'but you're not interested in that, huh, sport?'. I'll roll my eyes and shrug like, 'Whaddaya gonna do?' It goes like that."
Nodding, I mumble, "Oh, I see. Well, when are you going to, as you said, make it official?" He laughs, "It's only been official to ME since you and I met. Before that, I assumed I was gay, and finally confirmed it with you, so thanks for that." After parking, I say, "I'm never making it official. I'm never telling my parents 'cause I don't have the balls. Plus, they don't suspect a thing." Mickey touches my arm, saying, "Don't kid yourself, Burke, they probably already know. You've never dated a girl in your life, right?" Shaking my head, I mutter, "No, but..." and he says, "They're pretty sure you're queer. Parents know shit like that."
Going inside the house, I ask, "How about your older brother, is he gay?" He goes, "Joshua? Nah, he's living with a girl in California. They've been together since high school." In the kitchen, I get us Cokes, asking, "How old is your brother?" Mickey says, "Josh is twenty-seven," and he adds, "We were never close. When I was ten, Josh was already in college." I'm like, "Christ, that's so similar to me and my brother, Nicky. He's seven years older than me, and he's living with some girl in Philly. We weren't close either, Nicky and I, but he's always been super nice to me."
Finishing our Cokes, Mickey says, "Now that we're caught up on our family album, I wanna try fucking you on your stomach." We start walking to my bedroom as I ask, "Didn't we sort of do that already? Remember, um, yeah, we started out in another position, but we changed, and you were driving your cock straight down my ass. I liked it."
Mickey isn't sure about that, "Yeah? Did we...?" Eventually, we fuck three times, and I suck Mickey completely 'off' between the first and second fucks. He told me he'd go to the trouble of washing his dick if I'd blow him until he shot his load in my mouth, which happened. So, he had four climaxes to my three, but I do enjoy sucking that boy's penis, so I didn't mind. Plus, he does the 'guy stuff,' and so he gets an extra orgasm if he says he wants one. Pussy-boys do what they're told.
Then, after our third fuck, with my rectum still wide open and feeling funny on the car's seat, I drive Mickey home and then, after dinner, we hook up and meet some guys at the St. Andrews' Church's gym to watch Clifton Height's guys play Drexel Hill guys in a 'pick-up' basketball game. There are no referees at 'pick-up' games, obviously, so the guys call their own own fouls. Needless to say, very rarely does someone feel they've fouled another player, so there's as much bitching and arguing about that as basketball. It goes without saying, MIckey and I do not get picked to play on a team, but there are other guys who weren't picked, plus some girls. So, we watch the game yelling 'airball-airball' when someone shoots but misses the basket entirely.
Mickey and I get bored and leave early, but not to fuck. We go to Dairy Queen, where I have a chocolate-dipped cone and Mickey gets a strawberry sundae. We're at one of the picnic tables with Mickey giving me spoonfuls of his sundae as he takes big licks off my cone. Looking into each other's eyes as we share our imitation ice cream, it's obvious we're both horny. I'm squeezing my junk as Mickey asks, "Are you getting tired of fucking, Burke?" I go, "Very funny... haha. Are you?"
He eats a big spoonful of his sundae and shrugs, saying, "No, not me. It's you who suggested we come here instead of doing 'it'." I'm like, "Where the hell could we fuck?" He shrugs again, then uses his spoon to get a big glob of my cone, mumbling, "Well," he licks off his spoon, and goes, "I've heard of guys doing 'it' with girls at the reservoir."
The reservoir? I go, "Oh, no! Someone would recognize my car! Jesus, Mickey, that's the first bad idea you've had." Shrugging again, he mumbles, "I just wanna fuck you again today, Burke. I'm a horny guy. Christ, I told you about me jerking off a lot, didn't I?" I go, "One of our fucks equals at least three jerk-offs. Don't ya think?" He goes, "There isn't a comparison between fucking and jerking off. Ten jerk-offs don't equal even one fuck." I go, "Heh-heh, not when you're doing the 'guy stuff' they don't. You be a hot 'top,' Mickey!" He snickers, "Christ, I love how you worship me."
We chuckle 'cause neither of us worships the other, but maybe I'm starting to idolize Mickey a little bit. I tell him, "No, not worship, get 'effing serious! I will admit, um, I'm idolizing you a bit. You know, sort of how we've idolized Jello since we were like twelve." He goes, "Whoa! You idolizing me is BIG news, but I sort of could tell you're starting to look 'up' to me, which is only right because," and I say, "Because you're doing the 'guy stuff,' so..."
Feeding me another spoonful of his sundae. Mickey mumbles, "Well, yeah, that's true, but mostly, I was just reminding you that your boyfriend is a horn job." I take a deep breath and adjust my dick because sometimes, like now, I get a hard-on just being this close to Mickey. He looks up and catches me staring at him. With a smirk, he mutters, "You've got that 'look' in your eyes again, Burke." Looking down, I mumble, "Yeah? Well, I hope I have it a month from now too, then six months after that, and so on."
He tosses his empty sundae cup in a trash barrel, mumbling, "I know what you're saying. Don't worry; we'll be together six months from now, and after that as well." I hold my cone to him so he can eat the last of it, as I murmur, "Promise?" He eats the end of my cone, swallows, and says, "Yeah, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Mattie. You've changed the image I had of myself, changed it like a hundred-and-eighty-degrees for the better. You make me feel like a winner, Burke; you make me feel like I'm cool." I nod, looking serious, but don't say anything because I'm choked up a little.
Guys like Mickey and I form low opinions of ourselves because we get labeled as geeks or nerds early in the education process, and the designations stick to us all through our high school years. Compared to super-cool and star athletes, guys and girls, compared to them I guess we are nerds, but most guys and girls are average 'nothings,' they aren't super-cool or star athletes and yet they feel it's okay to call us nerds just because the cool 'in' kids do.
Anyway, we're back in the car with me driving around randomly until Mickey says, "Hey, how about if we go to your house so I can at least meet your parents? Just a quick 'meet and greet' so it'll be less awkward for me Sunday at that cookout." I'm like, "That's a ballsy idea, one I'd never suggest I do with your dad. It's a good idea, though, I mean, for those ballsy enough to pull it off."
When I park at my house, I smile at Mickey and say, "You actually are a cool guy, and a winner too, MIckey. I'm lucky to have you as a boyfriend." He mutters, "Thanks, Burke."
We find my parents in the back yard sitting on beach chairs talking with Uncle Shaun, all three drinking cans of Budweiser beer. Mom, Dad, and Uncle Shaun are all nearing fifty years of age, that's assuming they haven't already reached that milestone. Yeah, but yet, they don't look like 'old people.' Dad is slim and fit-looking although he had the same hairdo he had when he was a teenager in the nineteen-eighties, which is to say longish hair in an out-of-date-style, but other than that he's okay looking. Still, it always pisses me off when he's critical of my hair needing cutting. Uncle Shaun is much more up-to-date, hairstyle-wise. He has almost shaved-sides and long hair on top. Not that it looks less absurd than dad's hair.
Uncle Shaun is a 'hugger,' and he hugs me, saying, "Hi, stranger!" my glasses getting pushed up my forehead against his shoulder. I mumble, "Hi, Uncle Shaun." Mom wears eyeglasses too, and even though she's a bit roly-poly, she always looks like she's ready to go to a party with her subtle make-up, her hair done on a recent trip to the hair salon, always wearing nice clothes, and so forth. She looks nice, in other words. No, my parents don't embarrass me in that regard. They're naggy, but kinda 'with-it' too.
I introduce Mickey as 'Michael Miller,' a friend I graduated high school with, and add, "Everyone calls him Mickey." Mickey mutters, "Nice to meet you all." I'm like, "If it's okay with you, Uncle Shaun, I'd like to bring Mickey to the Sunday cookout." He says, "No, that's out of the 'effing question, Mattie!" My face is getting red from embarrassment even as everyone, including Mickey, laughs because, obviously, the way Uncle Shaun said that... he was kidding, joking. Of course, it's okay to bring a friend.
Gulping, I force out a laugh and mumble, "Yeah, haha. I know that was a dumb question. I just wanted to ask, um..." Uncle Shaun hugs my shoulders, saying, "That was very polite of you, Matt, but you know you can bring a friend whenever you want." Mickey's shuffling his feet, so I go, "Well, um, I wanna show Mickey my room because, um..." and Mickey says, "We're gonna Google, ah, what are we gonna Google, Matt?" I go, "My car. Um, my car has a knock in the engine, and we think, well... you guys enjoy this nice summer night."
Mickey and I both, for unknown reasons, back up a few steps before turning around and walking into the house through the kitchen door. Uncle Shaun and my mom were grinning because my awkwardness with social situations is no secret. My dad looked like he felt bad for me.
Inside, Mickey says, "That went pretty well, doncha think?" I go, "For me, yep." We are actually going to Google something, although it has nothing to do with my car. We Google, 'Normal frequency for sexual intercourse among humans.' Many responses appear, but there are too many general statements to be helpful. Nothing definitive, and no mention of doing 'it' three or four times a day either. Three or four times a month was frequently mentioned. Mickey goes, "This is disturbing. Let's Google, 'do some people have sex repeatedly the same day?'" I nod and type it in.
We read a few responses and look at each other, nodding our heads. I say, "This is more like it." There are some extravagant claims of fucking a dozen times during one night that we discount, but many younger people claim to have had sex three to six times the same day. Yes, some said they could do more of it, but for one reason or another, they didn't. Something interrupted them, I guess. Mickey goes, "Okay, I thought so. We're young, and therefore it's within normal boundaries that we're screwing as often as we do."
I'm like, "Uh-huh, but not one of the responses said anything about doing it three-to-six-times 'every day.' The way they wrote it, it was like they were bragging about a 'one-time' special occasion." MIckey says, "I see what you're saying, but if we read more, we'll find examples of our situation, and don't forget, none of these people said they'd gone like forever before having their first sex." I go, "You're right, Mickey, like you usually are." He grins at me and asks, "Are you gonna keep pumping my tires forever? Building me up. I certainly hope so... heh-heh." I shrug, 'Seriously; I'm just being honest." He says, "I love you," but it was said in a 'funny' manner, so it wasn't awkward.
I'm in front of my bureau combing my hair, muttering, "I wish my hair grew faster. Do you think I should try putting a hair product in my hair so I could comb it more like, well, more like yours and Jello's." Mickey is right behind me, pushing against me. Sounding breathless, he says, "I've got a condom in my pocket, Burke, and I want to use it. Okay?" I gasp, feeling his body against my back, pressure on my buttocks, my cock against the front of the bureau's top drawer. I gasp again, and ask, "Um, here, ya mean?" He says, "We'll be quiet, and everyone is outside."
He pulls my shorts down till they're under my buttocks as I feel my heart beating fast... rat-a-tat-tat. I take a deep breath and say, "You're our leader, so..." It's cowardly of me pretending I'm just doing this because Mickey's our leader. I wanna do it as much as he does, so I murmur, "I'm glad you thought of this, Mickey." He's fumbling around behind me, and then I feel his cock against my butt cheeks. Mickey slides the smooth head of his pecker across my ass, back and forth.
As he told me, he's a horny fellow, and his dick gets hard pretty fast. He says, "Help me with this, Burke." I turn around to see him fumbling with the condom packet. I take it and tear it open with my teeth and then roll it onto his boner. He mutters, "Thanks, I couldn't get that thing open. We're a team."
I turn back facing the bureau again, flat against the front of it, and then Mickey forces his boner all the way up my ass, all six-plus inches of it. The pain is immediate, and I go up on my toes, leaning over the bureau, a silent scream in my head, but only a quiet, "Aaahhh," slipping out my mouth. Without needing to think about it, I'm bending my knees to accommodate his shorter height. What he lacks in height he makes up for in penis length, and he begins thrusting its full length driving in hard and pulling it back just as fast. I was hoping there wouldn't be the slapping sounds, but Mickey's on a mission or something, and while I'm still in pain, it's "Slap, slap, slap," from the hard fast thrusting. There are no sounds coming from Mickey except quiet puffs of him exhaling against the back of my neck.
His right forearm is putting pressure on my back, keeping me forcefully against the bureau as he pounds away with his excellent cock, "Slapslapslap." The pain reigns thirty-seconds or so, but I grit my teeth and bear it, and then there's the appearance of noticeable sexual pleasure too. It matches, it's equal the pain, and the combination is so sexy my dick gets as hard as a stone. It's pointing straight up between the bureau, crushed a little, but that feels sexy too. This is by far the roughest sex we've had, but the pain evaporates, and the pleasure pours in... and then it's hard keeping my moans of pleasure quiet.
Mickey's hard cock has never felt this big, and I'm so aroused by it, so turned on, I feel my climax ready to blow already. It feels so good I'm whining quietly, "Mickey, Ummm, oh, Mickey," calling his name. Or, maybe I'm just saying it in my head. It's confusing because wave after wave of pleasure is flowing over me. The immense pleasure from my rectum and my throbbing cock has me dizzy; my hard cock still squeezed in between my belly and the bureau. Mickey's wilder than he's ever been thrusting that big cock and pushing against me until I make a squealing sound as cum bursts from my cock to squish between the bureau and me. Squish, squish, squish as my head swims in fantastically blooming fireworks of splendid color.
Streams of orgasmic after-effects streak over my body feeling deliciously sexy, but when they fade, I notice the hard piece of furniture I'm bouncing into, and Mickey's thrusting becomes uncomfortable. Only for another ten-seconds though and then he does his final thrust, makes a squeaky noise, and I assume is filling the condom with his creamy cum. His forehead on my shoulder, I feel his body shudder, and then he does his familiar sigh, a sigh of contentment.
He lies against me for a few seconds before stepping back, pulling his cock from my ass. He does a short chuckle, then says, "Sorry if that was too rough, Mattie, but, I don't know, it's like I needed to do that. I had such a strong urge to fuck you." I'm looking at my reflection in the mirror over my bureau. Huh, what a nice smile I have on my face. Haha, I just complimented myself, to myself. To Mickey, I say, "I see at my reflection in the mirror smiling back at me, Mickey, so it wasn't too rough at all. Boyfriend, you just gave me the best fuck yet! You're incredible!"
Turning around quickly, I see Mickey with a surprised expression, as he says, "Really? I thought you'd be pissed off at me for being selfish. I was knocking you against that, um, bureau, that hard piece of furniture only caring about my need to fuck you." I go, "Well, that's a compliment to me. Seriously, bro, that was the sexiest sex we've had yet." He's massaging his cock, holding the used condom in his other hand as he chuckles and says, "Yeah, I thought it would be. I did it for you, Burke," and we both snicker 'cause even I know that was bullshit. He'd just told me he only cared about his own 'need.'
I pull some Kleenex from the box on my bureau, saying, "Ya know what I wanna do next time?" He gets some Kleenex and wipes cum off the front of the furniture, asking, "What?" I say, "You fucking me with just your cock. Ya know, without a condom, so I feel your jism shooting inside me when you climax." He hunches his shoulder, making a 'face,' mumbling, "Omigod, that sounds so fucking hot! Yeah, we'll do it. Good idea, Burke!"
We get our clothes back in place and take a look out the bedroom door before heading to the bathroom. I'm like, "Oh, man, that was good sex. Mickey. Goddamn, didn't I tell you you're my idol? Dude, you rock!" He grins, shrugging and mumbling, "That was some hot sex, alright, you got that right, pussy-boy."
In the bathroom, I'm ecstatic 'cause that climax I had was the best. I go, "I'll be your pussy-boy as long as you'll have me." He turns on the faucet, mumbling, "Get ready for a long ride, then 'cause your ass is primo." I could ask how he knows that. How does he know my ass is 'primo,' meaning better than anyone else's if he's never fucked another ass, but why would I ask that? Instead, I mumble, "Thanks, but it's you who is the shining star. You fuck like you've been doing it for years."
Mickey's done washing his hands. As he's drying them, he goes, "Our mutual admiration society is still blooming brightly, I see." I mumble, "Just telling it like it is." We go back to my bedroom and lie on the bed together. After two minutes of comfortable silence, I say, "I can't do this; I can't lie here with you because the urge to make-out with you is too strong," and I hop off the bed, adding, "Let's ride around. It's only nine-thirty."
We go out the front door to avoid the people in the backyard. In my car, I start the engine and then look at Mickey, saying, "What a spectacular idea you had to fuck in my bedroom. I feel fantastic now." He goes, "Yeah, I do too, but I was only thinking of myself, and coincidentally you liked it too. What if you didn't? What if I hurt you bouncing you off the furniture like that?" I go, "Just assume, for future reference, I'm gonna like whatever sex you decide for us. Okay?" He goes, "You're too nice, Burke. You let me take advantage of you, and that's not right of either of us."
I'm like, "Will you chill! It was great. Don't overthink things. Um, where should we go?" He says, "I could go for a McDonald's cheeseburger." That's what we do, and then we park far away from the stores at the mall and have an intense five-minute make-out. That was my idea. We've both got boners again, and I look at Mickey, but he goes, "Oh, NO! Not here. Jesus, Burke!" Making a 'face' at him, I get my arms around him and make-out for another minute. Then he pulls away from me, saying, 'We've used up all the luck we're lucky to get tonight. No one has seen us, but let's get out of here now."
As I'm driving to Mickey's house, I say, "Sorry if I overdid it, Mickey, but I already admitted to you I've got this ginormous 'thing' for you." He nods, mumbling, "Yeah, we already talked about that, Burke, and I couldn't be happier that you feel that way. Hell, you've improved my whole life. Um, gave me a life, actually." Oh, fuck, that sounded good, and I don't want to overdo it anymore than I already have, so I keep my mouth shut.
At the curb outside his house, Mickey takes off his seatbelt, leans over, and kisses me. He says, "I don't care if you liked that kiss goodnight or not. Thanks for a fantastic time tonight, Burke, thanks for everything and I can't wait to see you tomorrow. Hey, and it's Friday already." I hold onto his arm as he's about to get out, wanting to say something meaningful to him about how I feel, but I can't think of the right words, so I merely say, "Yeah, see you tomorrow after work." We both give a little wave as he walks up to his house. A simple wave doesn't seem a sufficient goodby, so I should have kissed him back.
In bed later, I'm trying to name the reasons I've got this enormous crush, this love for him, or am I 'in love' with him? As Mickey said, neither of us knows what we're talking about when it comes to love. Or did I say that? Whatever, I do think he's amazing. We're boyfriends, that I'm sure of; gay boyfriends. But how the hell can he become this special to me in so short a time?
But, has it been such a short time? I mean, relatively speaking, it hasn't. When considering the amount of sex we've had together and all the time we've spent together, it's as much time as boyfriend/girlfriend or boyfriend/boyfriend spend together in a few months. I know, intimately, every part of Mickey's body, especially his mouth and penis, but also his scent, and I've touched every inch of him too. Plus, I know a lot about him personally because when we talk, it's talk of honest things about ourselves instead of the inconsequential small-talk most people do.
Still, it doesn't add up. Or, yeah, I guess it does add up when I think again about the frequency of the sex we've had together. Mostly there's the coincidence of us matching so well together, and I mean in many other ways besides the sex. Yeah, but what about my fantasizing about Adonis-like cute guys? Mickey isn't the guy of my fantasies. Mark and Bobby fit my fantasy lover much better, although I obviously didn't interest them enough to overcome the interest they had in others. As nice as they've been, the truth of the matter is I am in second, third, or fourth place buddy-sex-wise to them.
Just before falling asleep, I'm like, "Oh, yeah. Maybe the biggest reason I like Mickey so much is for an obvious reason, which is, he likes me so much. Uh-huh, that matters.
Friday at work, I'm processing packages without thinking much about what I'm doing because it's so stupidly easy to do. I can't believe UPS pays me this much per hour to do this work that they could teach monkeys to do. It gives me the opportunity to think about stuff besides work, and the primary 'thing' I'm thinking about is my boyfriend, Mickey Miller. Specifically, the cringe-worthy words of affection I was throwing around about him last night. I need to get real. Yes, we're excellent together. We're considered losers by most of our peers, but fuck them because Mickey and I are having sex like winners. Then last night, I was acting like a loser again by going overboard, telling Mickey how fabulous a guy he is.
So, yes, we get together with spectacular results, at least as far as we're concerned, and I think I can speak for Mickey in that regard as well, but it's best if I don't overestimate his feelings for me or overstate my feelings for him. That's a bit childish on my part. I know, yeah, he's said wonderful things about me too, but he probably said most of the complimentary things because he felt obligated to do so since I was off the rails with compliments about him. I need to put the brakes on that for a while. Settle down and cool it. Act like a 'winner' Mickey and I are quickly becoming.
After thinking about all this, it's still all good. I overdid it but in a positive way, and now I don't want to fuck it up by going overboard the other way to compensate for overdoing it last night. Leave well enough alone. And, the word 'miracle' never popped-up in all my musings about Mickey. This is a real-life I'm dealing with, two lives actually, and while luck is certainly involved, so is free choice, and I've made some good choices. I'm fine. I just need to calm it all down a bit, that's all. Huh, yes, good talk!
And, at work, I didn't need to help Bobby today because he called in sick. The union covers us on that; we have sick days, so Bobby shouldn't get in trouble. Since I didn't help Bobby, I have a great day of production, and Tully looks for me as I'm clocking-out to tell me, "Awesome workday, Matt! Good job!" Nice to hear that, although I just shrugged and muttered, "Thanks." Ya know, act like you've been there and done that. And I need to be a little more like that with Mickey.
While that is most likely true, I'm wicked excited as I drive to pick him up after work, and there he is waiting for me at the curb. Oh shit, he looks cool with those sunglasses he's wearing. That little fucker is so friggin' hot. He has his great smile going for him, and he's still showing me it as he gets in the car. I go, "Hi, Mickey, good to see you and, dude, you're a cute motherfucker when you smile." He goes, "You're always a cute motherfucker, Burke," and he grins, saying, "Thanks, for the compliment," then he leans over and kisses me. Oh, I guess I should have expected he'd do that after last night's kiss. No matter, I'm not going to make a fuss. And, dammit, I already did what I said I wasn't gonna do by telling him a gooey compliment about his appearance. Damn!
Getting over that, I jokingly ask, "So, whaddya wanna do this afternoon?" He laughs out loud and then says, "Fuck my pussy boy; that's what I wanna do."
And, that's what we do, three times. Well, after the first time, we have the most excellent ten-minute make-out, and then the second fuck and so forth. Lying on the bed after cleaning up, including Mickey cleaning his dick to get the gunk off it from the condom, I go, "Hey, you weren't gonna use condoms. You said we'd..." and he interrupts, 'Yeah, well, I forgot. You could have reminded me to do it without a condom, ya know." I nod, "Yeah, except I only remembered that now. Next time, right?" He nods and says, "Yeah, but that won't be today. I washed my penis so you could blow me later. You know, suck me off all the way this time. I love when you're licking around my nuts and everything 'cause that feels unbelievable." I'm nodding again, mumbling, "Yeah, I like doing that too."
We have one of our quiet times. And then, as seems to be frequently happening, it's me who breaks the silence again. I ask, "How long before we need to use the new hair removal stuff again?" Mickey goes, "I don't know, but let's be sure we use the new stuff. Um, maybe Sunday." I mutter, "Yeah, okay," and then a minute later, "We're gonna hang out together after dinner, right? It's Friday night, so..."
Mickey turns his head, saying, "Yeah, of course, but let's see a movie tonight at the Multiplex." I like going to the movies but not alone, and Dean and I hardly ever went, so I'm like, "Awesome idea!" He says, "You pick out a movie, okay?" I resist what I wanna say, which is, 'any movie is fine with me.' That's what the old 'me' would say. Instead, I'm like, "Yeah, okay. Something with a lot of action, obviously."
Mickey rolls over on his side to look at me, grinning as he plays with my hair. Then smirking, he asks, "Well, I'm waiting for you to tell me how much you love me and how awesome I am. Aren't ya gonna do that?" I snort out a laugh and mutter, "I said too much last night. That'll need to last you a few days." He goes, "Awm c'mon, Burke, tell me some complimentary stuff, please. You know, in the spirit of our mutual admiration society?" I come up with a perfect thing to say, and I'm doing that more often of late. I mumble, "Instead of telling you how much I think of you, I'm going to show you," and I suck his cock for almost fifteen minutes, licking around and under and all over his scrotum before he blasts some spunk. His cock wasn't in my mouth, so his semen hit my forehead, and some of it went in my hair. I look up as Mickey moans with his eyes closed. Then, red-faced and smiling, he opens his eyes and murmurs, "You're the best boyfriend anyone could have, Burke."
Driving Mickey home later, we're both giddy, laughing at dumb stuff. Then Micket goes, "Hey, when a lady asked the waiter, 'What's this fly doing in my soup' the waiter looks at her bowl of soup and says, 'I believe it's doing the backstroke, Madam.'" Looking over at him, I go, "Um, that was a joke, right?" He goes, "DUH!" and I'm like, "Corny, that's a corny joke!" and then I snort out a laugh, repeating, "I believe it's doing the backstroke."
Chuckling, Mickey goes, "That's one of my grandmother's jokes. She'd tell me lots of them when I was in my early teens. She had a million corny jokes like that, most of which I've forgotten. Oh, here's another one. 'Waiter, there's a needle in my soup.' The waiter says, 'I'm sorry, madam, that's a typographical error. That should have been... a noodle'." I go, "Typographical? What's that mean? I don't get that one," but I giggle anyway.
At his house, before getting out, Mickey goes, "I thought of another grandma joke. At the store, a lady asks the clerk, 'Why do you charge so much for milk?' and the clerk says, 'I believe it's because the cows hate to squat on the tiny opening of the milk bottles.'" I force out a laugh, and then ask, "Shouldn't that be 'milk carton'?" He yells, "These are my grandmother's jokes. There were milk bottles in her day." The joke didn't really make any sense, but we're busting a nut laughing at silly shit anyway, so...
Mickey gets out and, standing next to the car, he says, "Here's one my grandfather told me. 'A guy asked a girl if she smoked after getting fucked,' well granddad said, 'Do you smoke after intercourse?' and the girl said, "I don't know. I never looked." We laugh at that so hard we're spitting, and gaging, laughing our nuts off. Finally, I go, "Omigod, those are perfect corny jokes for us nerds." Mickey taps the car door twice and says, "I almost peed my nerdy pants, Burke. Your laugh is contagious." Two more taps on the door, and he closes it, saying, "Well, yeah, okay, I'll see you tonight, Burke."
On the way home I'm laughing every time I think of the punch line, 'I don't know, I never looked.' Haha, do you smoke after getting fucked? Oh, God, that one was funny!
When I pick him up after dinner, Mickey and I change our minds about the movies tonight. Tomorrow night we might do that, but tonight we'd kinda like to get drunk or high. Kent Park is the place where that can happen, so we go there. Dean is there, but he's up on the hill under the bridge with Grace Falco, so I guess she's his girlfriend now. He sees us but waves us away.
Other than Dean, none of our 'regular' guys are here tonight. Mickey knows, or sort of knows, a loudmouth named Chuck Dawkins, who is here with two other guys and two girls. They're screwing around at the picnic table. Mickey and his big balls walk over to tap Chuck on the shoulder while I watch from ten feet away. Chuck and the guys he's with all make a big deal out of Mickey finally getting his hair cut, mocking him unmercifully. Mickey laughs along with the assholes and, eventually, Chuck sells him two joints for ten dollars each, a rip-off price, but whaddya gonna do? When Mickey pays, Chuck points at me and tells Mickey, "Now, you two geeks go away and leave us alone. Smoke the joints someplace else."
As I said, he's an asshole! Well, we don't want to smoke the pot with him, his asshole friends, and those skanky girls anyway. As we walk back to the car, I'm like, "You've got balls, Mickey. That's what you've got asking that dipshit if he had joints to sell." Mickey says, "I've bought joints from that prick before, and he always tells me to get lost after he sells me overpriced stuff. It's usually good shit, though. Good marijuana."
We want to smoke the grass where our friendship started, so I drive to the reservoir, and we sit on that rock overlooking the water. It's where I was sitting by myself when Mickey brought me the beer and asked for my phone number. That's where we smoke our joints. I don't care if my car is recognized tonight because MIckey and I are in plain sight and not in the backseat doing queer stuff.
A million bright stars are out tonight, a beautiful summer night. There are other guys and girls here, but we don't know them, and they're not near us. They're younger high school kids giggling, and then there's some squealing that's coming from the girls who are with the guys, probably because the guys are squeezing the girls' tits for 'something' sexy to do.
Mickey and I pass the first joint back and forth, taking our time smoking it, without saying anything. As cannabis takes hold during the second half of the joint, we look at each other with what I believe is 'love' in our eyes, but we still don't say anything. I burn my fingers, trying for one last toke on the roach before sending it on its way twenty feet below to the water.
Mickey's big black eyes with the rim of dark-blue pupil shine in the moonlight as he lies back, murmuring, "I'd love to kiss you, Burke, but I'll hold that thought for later." I'm sitting up, my arms around my knees, looking down at Mickey and marveling how his silky blond hair shines in the moonlight, shines like his eyes. Mickey's shining, so I murmur in my pot-altered mind, "Do I shine, Mickey?" His eyes close as he murmurs, "Yeah, you do, Burke, you shine." I nod to myself, adjust my glasses, and then watch three guys walking into view from the parking area with one of them carrying a case of beer. They've probably been drinking before this because they're talking much louder than necessary, older guys, probably in their early twenties, with beards. I hate that current 'in' beard-fad.
My hand drops down to casually feel Mickey's silky hair as I watch the older guys light up joints, drink beers, talk and laugh as they sit on a log. One of them lights a firecracker and throws it, so it burst with a loud bang over the reservoir. It spreads out, lots of sparkles, as it falls to the water. Every minute or so, he lights one and throws it. Mickey sits up to watch, mumbling, "I can't think of a better way to get the cops visiting us here then what that asshole is doing." I go, "It looks cool, though."
Then Mickey stands up and brushes off his shorts in back, muttering, "I'll see if I can bum a beer off of those guys." I'm like, "Are you 'effing crazy? Sit down," but he pulls away from my hold on his arm and walks over to the beer-drinking, pot-smoking, firecracker-tossing bearded older guys. They're twenty yards away from where we're sitting on the rocky ledge. Cleaning my glasses on my t-shirt, I then watch in horror as Mickey talks with them. I'm expecting the worst, but then here comes Mickey with two cans of beer. It takes him longer than it should to get back to the ledge 'cause he's stoned. I get up to meet him halfway, and he hands me a beer, mumbling, "They wouldn't even take any money. Good guys, huh?"
I wave at the guys, just a little wave of 'thanks,' and one of them yells, "You're welcome." Nice! We sip on the beers but don't light the other joint yet, wanting to stretch out the night. I'm like, "See why I say you're my idol, Mickey. I'd never do that." He shrugs, saying, "I just do shit to impress you, Burke. I was almost peeing my pants, walking over to them. It was fifty-fifty they'd throw me in the reservoir. That was as likely as them selling me a couple of beers. Instead, they gave the beers to me." It's nice being 'high,' beer even tastes good when I'm 'high.'
Mickey tells me a couple more of his grandmother's corny jokes, and we giggle at the jokes like girls. Later, I light the second joint, and as we smoke it, we have serious expressions as we're watching each other inhale, hold the smoke in our lungs, then exhale. It's like a sacred ritual. Our shoulders touch as we sit close to one another and finally my head droops, my forehead against Mickey's. I kiss him, and he pushes me away. Looking around, he murmurs, "Not here, Mattie."
My eyes open wide as I come back, metaphorically from the land of Oz, and Mickey quietly says, "I want to make-out with you just as bad as you do, but not here." 'High' as a kite, I say, "Okay, you're the boss, Mickey, but I gotta tell you something." He nods his head, and when I don't say more, he goes, "Tell me what?" Blinking my eyes, I murmur, "Huh? Oh, it's nothing, um, except that I've never loved anyone in my life half as much as I love you." He sways, murmuring, "I told you this was good shit." I go, "I'm not talking about the pot! I said I Iove YOU. I never loved anyone as much as I love YOU.'" I'm 'cooked,' and I may have yelled that. Mickey and I glance over at the older guys, but they are obvious to us. Mickey looks back at me and mutters, "Me too, Burke. You and me, we're cool motherfuckers now, and, I guess, lovers too."
As if we planned it ahead of time, we both lie back on the smooth rocky ledge to finish the joint, passing it back and forth. He gets the last of the roach and flicks it over the ledge. Mickey holds my hand then, and I squeeze back. That's how we are for another long time. Probably forty-five minutes holding hands lying on this rocky ledge of the reservoir, and we may have dozed off even with the clammer of the young people's giggling within hearing distance. This pot was laced with something. That's the reason it was more expensive than normal. That thought enters my mind, and I may even have said it out loud. I'm not sure.
Later, Mickey and I are helping each other down the slope to the car, a steeper slope than I recall going up it. In the car, Mickey says, "Those fucking mosquitoes, ya know?" Oh, so that's why we're in the car. We wait for another ten minutes, just sitting here before I start the engine to put the air conditioner on.
We're talking now, mostly telling each other how important we are to one another and how much we love one another. I don't know how we fell in love so soon, or if we are in love. Well, we are right now, right this minute, which I guess is all that matters. It feels good to hear someone say they love me. I don't know why I rejected us being in love earlier. Or was it Mickey who rejected that? . As I'm driving MIckey's home, he says, "Tomorrow I wanna do something bold, Mattie Burke. I want both of us doing something bold." I go, "Bolder than what you did tonight, two times. You were super bold twice tonight already." He looks at me, "Whaddaya mean?" I let out an exasperated breath and mutter, "Nevermind. Okay, what bold thing are we doing tomorrow?" He says, "We're getting our ears pierced."
He forgets to kiss me 'goodnight' and, as I drive home, I'm half-hoping he'll forget about getting our ears pierced tomorrow too. On the other hand, I hope he doesn't. I'd never do that on my own, but it would be a cool thing to do.
To be continued... Chapter 13 "More Mickey Miller" donnymumford@comcast.net
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