WAITING FOR A MIRACLE
by Donny Mumford
Chapter 8... "More Mickey and Me"
I'm just now waking up Sunday at twelve-forty-five, the third Sunday in a row I've slept right through the morning. That's not surprising considering how late I've been staying out Saturday nights recently. Hey, lots of nineteen-year-old guys sleep late. For me, there is a difference this Sunday, however, and it's that my ass is wicked sore. There's a good reason for that too; it's that I was fucked five times last night. It's not hurting inside but rather around my hole, my anus. Hmm, I don't know why I didn't notice it last night.
Looking at the bright side of things, from my bed, I can see out the window, and it looks like a beautiful sunny day this June 18th, which makes me happy. So, yeah, everything is good, except for my sore ass. Hmm, lying here, I hear mom and dad talking in the kitchen. It's a smallish house you see, so I can hear voices from the kitchen, although not what's being said. My plan is to stay in my bedroom until they leave for the cookout at one of my uncles. I used to go with them, but not so much this past year. The main reason I attended those cookouts was my cousin Lewis. Yeah, I was 'crushing' on him big time, but that seems ancient history now.
Other than my sore ass, it's mostly Mickey Miller who's on my mind. I'm not feeling the same affection for him I was sensing last night, and I don't know why that is. Oh, I'm still wicked happy with him, as well as with everything about last night. It's just; I don't know, I'm more realistic about things this morning. Last night I thought I'd hit the jackpot with him like he was a rock star or something. This morning I'm thinking clearer and, no, he's not a rock star, not even close. He's a five-foot-six, skinny and goofy-looking guy who, like me, is not a member of any 'in-crowd.' No need for me to put either of us down though, we are what we are. Nerdy, perhaps, and inexperienced sexually, although I assume, so are many others our age.
It was nice to hear Mickey say I was cute. Glad he noticed... heh heh. No, I'm not conceited, but it's good to know your boyfriend thinks you're cute, whether you are or not. Then he was wildly inaccurate in thinking I'm a popular guy who has had boyfriends, and sex regularly. I corrected his misconceptions even though there's the possibility he was facetious about all that in the first place.
Whatever, we had a great time last night, and I do like him, but I simply need to pump the brakes on the 'I'm in love' again crapola, and the 'we'll be going on lots of dates' hysteria of last night. Well, haha, getting fucked pretty damn well five times tens to get my perspective out of kilter. As I said, I'm thinking clearer this morning, and I think it's the 'ultimatum' he gave me that has me thinking a little negatively. That was presumptuous of him; I'm pretty sure I'm right about that. And then all his contentions that he's 'the guy' and I'm something less than 'the guy.' And, again, I'm never sure how much of that was said jokingly. Asperger's affects me, and even though there's some truth to Dennis saying I use it as an excuse, it is a factor.
Yes, it's a factor, but I'm getting better with the social stuff lately. For instance, I got Mickey and me talking almost like normal guys. Not at first, of course, but we didn't know each other then. Later in the night, though, we were talking more freely. He told me he was 'crushing' on me from middle school until now, but again, I don't know if that was said tongue in cheek, or if he was serious, or what? I wasn't sure but felt I should give him a compliment, so I told him his youthful appearance is cute in and of itself, although I'm not sure if he believed me or not. It's sorta true.
That's all small stuff, though, so I don't know why I'm having these second thoughts about Mickey. Ha, it's because I always have second thoughts about everything. Hell, Mickey and I were good together, that's the bottom line! If I'm honest with myself, I respect him for his rule that a boyfriend of his can't be screwing around with anyone else. That shows he respects himself. It's even more impressive because he didn't think he'd ever have a boyfriend, but now that he does, he still claims he'll dump me if I'm unfaithful. You gotta respect a guy who stands up for himself. Actually, I think he's kind of intelligent. We didn't talk about him going to college, but I'll bet he is.
The more I think about it; we were better than just 'good' together; we were 'awesome' together! We're a lot alike too, and, oh hell, I've just gotta make sure I don't fuck this budding relationship up. As a matter of fact, I'll text him right now. Jumping out of bed, I grab my phone, but before I can text, I hear mom yelling at me, "Matthew, are you up yet?" I yell, "I've been up for hours working on a better way to handle the UPS job. I'm studying online procedures." She yells, "Studying what? Well, nevermind. Dad and I are going to your Uncle Nick's. Why don't you come over when you're ready. Everyone was asking for you last week." I yell back, "Yeah, okay, maybe I will. Have a good time."
I listen closely until I hear the front door lock. It makes a 'click' sound as it locks automatically when the door closes. Going over to my window, I watch until I see their car pull away. Okay, good! I text Mickey: 'You up yet? Text me. Matt Burke.' Shaking my head, I say out loud, "Why in the name of God, did you include your last name?" What a geek move! And, how many times have I told myself to reread texts before I send them?
Then, I almost drop my phone when it rings. Dammit, I always do that; I'm too easily startled. Caller ID says, 'Michael Miller.' That's Mickey, he's on his dad's AT&T cell phone program, and Mickey's first name is Michael too, and, all of a sudden, my dick twitches. Any negativity about him I may have had earlier has flown the coop. Damn though, I'm regressing with this socializing shit, sounding hesitant, like I'm asking a question, I say, "Hi, Mickey? Um, did I wake you up?"
No response from him for a second or two, and then he mumbles, "Wake me up?" I mutter, "No, not wake you; I didn't mean that. Um, I don't guess a text would wake a person up, but..." He says, "Um, no, probably not. Hi, Burke, um, I've been up."
Oh balls, we're both back acting like social-misfits again. Jeez, though, I thought he'd be happier to hear from me; happier than he sounds anyhow. And now I realize I've waited a few seconds before talking, and it's my 'turn'! I quickly ask, "Um, do you wanna hang out?" He asks, "With you, ya mean?" I almost say... who the hell do you think I mean?' except I'm pretty sure he's joking, which is a good sign, I think. Anyway, I go, "Haha... yeah, with me," and he goes, "In that case, definitely! Can you pick me up?" Oh good, we're communicating okay now. I go, "Of course," and then he feels the need to explain, saying, "I can't use dad's car 'cause he took it to work." His dad goes to work on Sunday?
Hmm, I ask, "So, your dad isn't home, huh? Do you want to hang out at your house?" He says, "Not necessarily, but sure if you want to. I can't be sure when dad will be coming back home, though." I say, "Oh, so, um, well, what if I pick you up in half an hour, and we'll hang out here?" Mickey doesn't hesitate; he goes, "Okay," and my phone goes 'dead.' Nobody ever says, 'goodbye.'
Obviously, we're still acting a little bit awkward, but that's okay 'cause we'll loosen up like we did last night. After all, it's not like we've been friends for months or years or even days. We spent one night together. It was quite a night for sure, but still only one night, one 'date.'
Dropping my phone on my desk, I get off the chair too abruptly, banging my knee on a desk drawer that I hadn't closed. Dammit, that hurt! Calm down, Matt! And it's weird, but now I can't imagine why I wasted any time this morning trying to find something wrong about Mickey. He's a really good guy, although anticipating seeing him shortly has me jittery. Excited too, but... Oh, jeez, I better take a shower and shave. If he was serious about thinking I'm cute and having a crush on me, I don't want to disappoint. I need to look good, as good as I can look. Yeah, especially because he's the one who insisted 'looks' count.
Starting for the bathroom, I get sidetracked, staring at myself in the mirror over the bureau. Hmm, I pull my hair back with both hands. Christ, I look like a hillbilly with my raggedy head of hair and skimpy whiskers. I have a lot of nerve criticizing Mickey's 'looks.'
In the bathroom, damn, my ass hurts wicked bad when I'm forced by necessity to do 'number two' in the toilet. Fuck! Omigod, and what am I gonna say when Mickey wants to be 'the guy' during sex today? It's way too embarrassing admitting my ass is sore. Yeah, but I was telling myself last night that I'd do whatever I need to do to keep Mickey from doing what Bobby and Mark did, which was basically dumping me. That's what they did, dumped me in favor of a guy or girl they obviously preferred over me. I don't blame either of them though, their other guy and girl were probably better choices, but I want to be Mickey's better choice.
In the shower, as I'm shampooing my hair, it occurs to me that today is Mickey's and my second 'date,' and we partially agreed that maybe it'd be my turn to 'top,' to be 'the guy.' Or did we override that by agreeing he's probably better suited for that role? Well, I'm prepared to grin and bear it if Mickey wants to do 'it' the same way as last night. He's my boyfriend now, and I mean a real boyfriend and not a one or two night-stand sex-buddy. That is what I was with Bobby and Mark. Hey, maybe Mickey's the miracle that Dennis said I'm waiting for. That's a real possibility!
I finish showering and then hurry to dry and get dressed. I told Mickey I'd pick him up in half an hour, and he'll probably be standing at the curb early. I don't want to keep him waiting. We need to be able to depend on each other, trust each other. After blow-drying my hair for two minutes, and it's still wet because there's too much of it, I grin to myself and then comb it straight back the way Mickey combs his hair. Yeah, I've got Mickey on the brain for sure, but only in the best way now.
Driving to Mickey's house, I'm wearing what I always wear, a clean t-shirt, this one dark blue with gray lettering on the front that says 'CHANGE IS GOOD' and I don't know what that's referring to, also my good baggy khaki shorts. My normal white socks and my new sneakers. Damn, I forgot my wallet! Well, no big deal unless a cop stops me, and that's not happening.
As I expected, Mickey is again standing at the curb in front of his house. He gets in the car and says, "Your hair!" and I go, "Yes, I combed it the way my boyfriend combs his hair," and Mickey blushes. Jesus, I was trying to make a joke. I didn't expect that reaction, and I'm not sure what it means, so I ignore it and say, "Hi, Mickey." He chuckles at that, "Hi, Burke. Um, are you making fun of me combing your hair like that?" God, he's as bad as I am. I go, "Noo! It was sort of a joke." Nodding, he chuckles now, "Yeah, I knew, that, but I turned the tables on you. Haha." I go, "Well, don't. I can't pick up subtleties like that."
He doesn't say anything as I drive back to my house. I'm thinking, 'Dammit, did I screw that up?' As I'm parking in our driveway, Mickey says, "You've mentioned a couple of times that you don't 'get' jokes, or you don't 'get' them. Why is that, do you suppose." Shrugging, I mumble, "I don't know." He mumbles, "I'll try to make my jokes more obvious. Okay?" Asperger is an embarrassing handicap.
As we're getting out of the car, he says, "You wouldn't believe how happy I was to see your text this morning. Thanks." Shrugging, I'm like, "I've been trying to be more proactive, ya might say. Texting and reaching out, sort of." He frowns, "Huh? Whaddaya mean?" I mumble, "Nothing. I was joking," and I unlock the front door.
Inside the house, I say, "Here it is, my house, all six rooms of it." That was 'weak' of me, putting down my parents' house. Mickey asks, "Can I see your bedroom," and he grins, adding, "I wanna see where my boyfriend sleeps. See if he has a messy bedroom, or maybe you're a neatnik." I nod at the hall, mumbling, "It's down there, first door on the right. I'm in between sloppy and neat. My parents got me in the habit when I was too young to know better to make my bed every morning." Mickey goes, "Nothing wrong with that; I make my bed every morning too."
In my bedroom, he looks around and mutters, "Nice," but he's generous. My bedroom is small, and I don't have any cool things, like posters on the walls or anything like that. No trophies for participating in kiddy baseball games on the bookcase, and I don't own many books either. I'm again feeling uncomfortable being with Mickey. The fact that I hardly know him ballons in my head. He looks the same as he looked last night, and he may even be wearing the same too-short shorts. Or more likely he has another blue shorty-shorts. As a matter of fact, I'd wicked curious about those odd shorty-shorts he wears, but I won't ask him about them because it might insult him or hurt his feelings.
Mickey's just standing here fidgeting so, huh, he appears to be a little uncomfortable. That's how last night started for both of us, and it turned out great. I tentatively touch his shoulder, saying, "I wanna tell you that, um, well, last night was the most fun I've ever had so, um, well, thanks." He goes, "You're thanking me?" I shrug, "Well, yeah, you were mostly responsible for how good everything turned out, so, um..." and then I do a phony nervous chuckle and abruptly pull my desk chair away from my desk. I don't know why I did that. Mickey says, "I agree that last night was awesome fun, but it was because of you as much as me." I push the chair back and mumble, "Oh, I don't really..." and let that thought peter-out.
Nodding his head, Mickey murmurs, "Can we kiss? Maybe that'll get us over this awkward phase we're in." I snort out a laugh thinking he's kidding and then get serious 'cause he wasn't kidding. He lifts his face, and we kiss on the lips. I go, "Good idea, Mickey! I wasn't sure what to do." He pats my arm, "We're good, Burke, doncha think?" I nod, and he asks, "Is it okay if I sit on the bed?" I shrug, and he sits, then he lies on the bed, saying, "Lie with me," so I do.
We have nothing to say for a minute or so. Actually, I'm hoping we'll slip into a heavy make out, but Mickey goes, "You know, you're my first boyfriend so, like you, most of the time I'm not sure what I should be doing or saying." I turn my head to look at him, thinking to myself, 'He's not so dopey-looking, plus he looks so young I'd like to lick his cheek.'
I go, "You're my first boyfriend too, and I think you're doing better at this boyfriend, um, thing than I am. What I was thinking is you should be our leader. The lead boyfriend." Looking at me, he says, "Yeah, oddly enough, I'm inclined to agree with you, although, technically, I don't believe there is an official title 'lead boyfriend.'" I laugh until I realize he was serious again, so stop and say, "No, you're right. Um, there isn't, but between you and me, you're it." He nods, mumbling, "Okay."
Another silent couple of minutes during which, for a change, I'm not second-guessing anything. Nope, with him as our leader, I don't feel any pressure about not talking because if he thinks it's okay being quiet, I do too. Then, thinking about that, I feel immature for wanting a leader. What's that all about? Yeah, but some people are leaders, and some aren't. I'm not, so why not be okay with Mickey being my leader? No need to feel pathetic about it. Ya see I second-guessed myself with that, but in a positive way. My second-guessing can, at rare times, be useful. Second-guessing is a way of analyzing situations.
Mickey interrupts my thesis on second-guessing to ask, "When will your parents get back from church?" I'm like, "Church? They're not at church; they're at my uncle's cookout. Jeez, they won't be home until like eight o'clock tonight." Mickey goes up on his elbow and, looking down at me, asks, "Ya wanna get naked and get under the covers?" Yeah, I do, but now I'm noticing my sore asshole again. While driving over to pick up Mickey, I'd put my sore ass out of my mind until now.
Hmm, I go, "Ah, Mickey, I wasn't going to tell you this because it's embarrassing, but my, um, my ass is very sore." Looking at me with a concerned serious expression, Mickey goes, "Seriously? No, joking..." I nod, "Seriously," and he goes, "I'm sorry. That's my fault. I overdid it because it was my first time ever having sex. Um, but why didn't you say something last night?" I shrug, "I didn't notice it until this morning. I can't... you know. We can't do it, not today anyway, but I'll bet by tomorrow I'll be fine." I'm kinda hoping he'll say this is our second date, so it's my turn to 'top.' He doesn't say that, so I guess we did agree last night he'd be 'the guy' all the time. I can't remember exactly how that discussion ended, but I'm not bringing it up unless Mickey does.
He gives me a 'look' as though he's not sure if I'm putting him on, joking about the sore ass. Maybe he has Asperger's Syndrom too. No, that would be too big a coincidence. He asks, "So you're saying that you're okay with me being 'the guy' when we have sex, right?" I nod because I'm determined to keep him happy as my boyfriend. I've had experience with this sort of thing, and if they find a better option, they dump you... that's what I've discovered two times already.
He goes, "Jesus! Wow, that's awesome of you, Burke, thanks. I'll do the 'guy part' when we have sex and you, um, do the, ah, well, the 'bottom' part." I make a 'face' mumbling, "Sure, okay," and he goes, "I was worried you might feel that being the, um, 'other guy,' you know, you might take it the wrong way. Although, well, you're the one who said we're both guys no matter that it's me being 'the guy' who does the guy part." I nod again, and then I grow a set of balls and mumble, "Yes, but you might want to try the 'other guy' part sometimes too. We did talk about that, and I'm good with that as well." Jeez, I didn't grow a very large set of balls 'cause that was weak.
Side-stepping that, Mickey says, "So, obviously, with you having a sore ass, we can't do 'it' today, but we can still get naked and make out. You showed me how awesome making out is." Nodding again, I go, "Yeah, let's do that!" As we're taking our clothes off, I ask, "I was wondering if you can come over in the afternoons this week. Say about three-thirty or four o'clock? That's when I get home from work. Oh, and I never asked you... do you work?" He's naked already, and I can't resist taking a quick glance at his dick. Yes, it's as big as I remembered from last night... that's good. Mickey's absently pulling on his pecker, saying, "Yes, I work five days a week at my dad's law office, but only until noon, or sometimes one o'clock. Then, we sometimes eat lunch together, but often I take a bus home, so sure, I can come over. I mean, you'll need to pick me up."
Oh, boy, this is great! I'm naked now too, mumbling, "No problem. I'll drive right from UPS to your house, and, hey, we could hang out there if you wanted to." He goes, "Yeah, except a lady comes in to clean and do the wash, change the bed linens, and whatever. It's not always the same day, though. Oh, and then on Wednesdays, I have something to do after work, but other than that, we could hang out at my house." Nah, that's a tad dangerous. What if the cleaning lady came and caught us screwing? I'm like, "Or, my place is good too, ya know."
Naked, we're standing next to the bed with me looking at Mickey as he's looking at me. Without saying anything, he gently takes my glasses off to put on the bureau. I mutter, "Thanks," and we continue standing here until, finally, he goes, "Um, are you waiting for me? I was waiting until you got in bed. It's your bed." I go, "Okay, but you're supposed to be the leader, so..." He laughs out loud, so I grin and chuckle with him, although I was serious. Yeah, well, I can also see how he might think I was breaking his balls by joking around about the 'leader' thing.
We get in bed, under the covers, and lay without moving for a minute. He says, "I like your bed. It's a double bed, huh?" I nod, and he says, "I have a single bed called a twin, although the twin to my bed isn't in my room." I frown, muttering, "I wonder what happened to the other bed." He snickers and says, "That was another of my joking remarks. Another one that wasn't funny," and then he gets his arm behind my neck and I scooch over to him.
We lie like this, casually moving slightly, getting comfortable until finally, I'm on my back looking at the ceiling while Mickey is on his side looking at me. He says, "This is so much better than the back seat of your car." I'm like, "Uh-huh, for sure." Then turning my head to look at him, I murmur, "Ya know, I like the feel of your skinny body." He snickers, "You're not exactly fat, ya know." Then, with another snicker, he lies on me as he did that time we were at the reservoir. Squirming against me, he murmurs, "I never dreamed anything could be this good," and I put my arms around him and murmur, "Me neither." He rests the side of his head on my shoulder, and our bodies seemingly meld together.
Jesus, I wasn't lying... I like the feel of his body. Omigod, this is so fucking sexy I get a hard boner in like a minute. It bumps against his leg, and he goes, "I think that's flattering, Burke. You getting hard from my body touching you." I nod and murmur, "Touching me all over, plus I like how you smell. What shampoo do you use?" He goes, "My dad's. Whatever he buys. The current bottle is Suave shampoo and conditioner. I think he buys it 'cause it's inexpensive." I mutter, "Oh, I'll have to try it when I get my own apartment."
Meanwhile, my boner is getting tighter and tighter to the point now where I need to stifle a groan or a moan. He goes, "I can hardly breathe," and I realize I'd been squeezing him too tightly. I go, "Sorry," and relax my arms, then I'm like, "Mmm, oh, my boner is so hard. I'm not used to a guy's naked body on me. I feel like I'm gonna cum."
Mickey lifts his head, murmuring, "Maybe this will calm you down." He giggles and then gives me an open mouth kiss, his pink perfect tongue in my mouth, and after fifteen seconds, he sucks on my upper lip. Oh God, this is better than my make-out fantasies. I'm kissing back, our faces squished together, his cute pug nose bumping against my nose, and it's me who can't breathe now. Mickey licks across my mouth and lightly bites my lip, and I hump my hips and go, "Ahhh, ooh," and climax as my entire body shudders. It's a long delicious-feeling stream of cum; then I'm limp. Mickey stops kissing me and giggles, then mutters, "Yuck," you shot spunk all over my stomach and chest."
Catching my breath, I mutter, "Sorry, I couldn't stop it. You're the cause of it anyway. And, oh man, I feel faint." This reminds me so much of that night with Mark. Mickey quietly asks, "Has extemporaneous ejaculation or spontaneous orgasm happened to you before?" I go, "Once, and it wasn't spontaneous. It's the bodily contact and kissing which turns me on!" Then, taking a few deep breaths, I start to feel better and mumble, '"That felt good." He chuckles and says, "I've got a boner now too." Nodding my head, I say, "I'll suck it for you," and he goes, "No, you won't. Um, will you? I dare you!"
Ha, that's what he said to me at the reservoir when he was hovering over me threatening to lie on me... 'Do you dare me?' That's what children say, and Mickey had a 'look' of excited childish mischief in his expression when he said it. It's actually kinda sweet, and kinda cute too... 'I dare you.' There are cute things about Mickey that I'm realizing the more time we spend together.
Lifting the cover to look under them, I see his cock is hard but not sticking straight up as mine gets before I blow my load. Well, a minute ago, my boner would have been sticking straight up except it was squeezed between our stomachs. I say, "Yeah, I see your boner, Mickey, but you don't need to dare me. I already said I'd suck it for you." He goes, "Omigod, no one has ever offered to do that for me."
Smirking at him and feeling cocky, I go, "Well, ya know, giving my boyfriend a blowjob seems like the right thing to do. The other thing is, though, I've only done it once before and had it done to me once, so this will be an amateurish blowjob at best." He goes, "I've never done it, and no one has done it for me, so you shouldn't have told me that. I wouldn't have known the difference," and then he laughs. Was that funny? To be safe, I chuckle... haha.
I go under the covers and reach for his cock. It's dark as a pocket under the covers, so my hand misses his cock and bumps into his stomach. Well, it ain't hard to find his cock from that starting point. He begins wiggling on the bed as soon as I get his fairly hard dick in my fingers. I hear him giggling as I stroke his cock using two fingers and my thumb. Yeah, he's fairly 'boned-up' already, plus he was circumcised, so there isn't a lot of 'give' to his foreskin. I wrap my fist around that six-plus inch organ of his and stroke it the same way I stroke my dick, meaning every fourth or fifth stroke, I drag my fist up to cover and then squeeze the head.
His cock gets very hard, very fast, and then I drop my head and lick it from his nuts to the head of his hard penis and then suck the head into my mouth and lap it with my tongue. It's insane; it's crazy how I've 'taken' so quickly to cock sucking. Going from being a germ-a-phobe to cock-sucker almost instantly.
Mickey's cock is the bigger of the two cocks I've sucked but not by a lot, maybe an inch-and-a-half bigger. I'd rather suck Mickey's because I like him more. I trust him and want to continue being his boyfriend, a really important long-lasting boyfriend. Common sense is telling me that we're a good match, but it's more than just that. I don't know; I feel something 'special' between us. It may be those vibrations of true affection I felt coming from him last night. I didn't get anything similar to that from Mark or Bobby.
Spit is running down my chin now, so I take his cock out of my mouth and hold it in my fingers down close to his balls. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I put his hard cock back in my mouth, moving it on my tongue and then against the inside of my cheek, and then I'm sucking on just the head. I've got another hard boner myself because this turns me on. I really like sucking a guy's dick... it's very intimate. And then he pisses in my mouth, and I pull his dick out fast, quickly realizing he didn't piss. It was a spurt of pre-cum. Mickey asks, "What's wrong, Burke?"
Holding his saliva-slippery boner in my fingers, I stick my head out the top of the cover and grin, "Um, false alarm, No problem though. Um, I thought you pissed in my mouth, but it was pre-cum." Now it's Mickey who doesn't know if I'm joking. He still has a questioning expression on his face, so I say, "It's all good. I'm gonna suck you 'off' now," and go back under the covers to put his boner in my mouth again. This time I lick and suck on his cock while stroking it as Mickey's flopping around a little grunting and touching my head on top of the covers.
It doesn't take long before a steak of cum hits the back of my throat, and I take his cock out a split second before another much longer burst of semen is streaking across my cheek. That makes me jerk my hand, and the streak of cum extends down my neck to my chest. It all happens in one-tenth-of-a-second. My hand jerks his cock towards Mickey now as another smaller streak of cum lands in a line across his stomach. Oh fuck, that was a random spastic panic-move on my part, pushing his cock all around like that. I should have just swallowed his cum.
Then, letting go of his cock, I get cum on the sheet as I'm coming out from under the covers and see Mickey has bright red spots on each cheek. He breathes deeply, mumbling, "That was un-fucking-believable." I'm wiping saliva and cum drippings off my chin using the sheet, and then say, "That was fun! Bro, you ought to try it sometime." He goes, "Omigod, Mattie, you're awesome! Thanks, man that felt wicked good," and then he tussles my hair, his fingers going all through it while he's smiling at me. Aww, that's sweet.
Wow, though, doing sexy stuff with Mickey seems so much more 'real' than doing it with the other guys because Mickey's more receptive and appreciative. And I believe what Mickey says. By comparison, Bobby and Mark seem insincere. The sexy stuff I did with them didn't resonate with either of them the way it seems to with Mickey. Yep, Mickey, and I appreciate one another; that's the main difference.
Using my elbows, I drag myself to Mickey, right up face to face and, grinning, I say, "Give me a kiss," and I let a little spit drool out with some of his creamier-than-spit cum mixed in. He giggles and pushes my head away, "No, gross..." as he laughs. I go, "Hey, it came from your body," and then I make it obvious I'm swallowing the few drops of his cum left in my mouth. There wasn't much of it because I pulled his dick out so fast I only got a spurt of it in my mouth. It doesn't taste like anything.
I crawl on top of Mickey now and realize, even more than when he was on me, how much smaller he is than me... and I'm not that big. I'm mentally patting myself on the back, you know, congratulating myself for making this huge leap from what I was a few weeks ago to what I am now. Compared to my past, now I'm like a crazed sex maniac. I really do love guys, and having sex with them is, well, nothing's as good as that.
Mickey's content having me lay on him for a minute as I suppose he savors his orgasm. He's also telling me it was a unique experience, and he wouldn't mind at all if I want to do it a second time... maybe in a few minutes, and he chuckles. I'm like, "Next time, it's your turn." I notice his hair is spread out on the pillow, making me think of a girl's hair, which isn't what I'm into, so I roll off him and lie next to him, saying, "We've got cum all over us." He mumbles, "Yeah, you'll need to change the sheets." I go, "Ha, yeah, I guess so, but I was thinking more along the lines of taking a shower. How about you? We can do it together." He goes, "Sure, but can we just lie here a couple of minutes more?"
We do that without talking, and then I break the silence, asking, "Have you ever thought how strange it is that we like sex with guys?" He nods, "Yeah, sure. I fought off gay inclinations for the longest time, never giving myself away, not until with you at the reservoir. And I didn't really give myself away then either. It was when you called me and asked what I wanted to do. I thought, fuck it, I'm gonna be honest, so I told you I wanted to screw around with you. I somehow felt I could trust you even though we hardly knew each other. Weird, huh?" I mumble, "Mess around, not screw around. You said, mess around." He goes, "It's the same thing," and we're silent again, I have no idea why I corrected such an insignificant point.
I hear a dog bark down the street, but other than that, the only sound is the subtle clicking of my small alarm clock on the bedside table ticking off the minutes. Finally, I mumble, "I wonder why we're gay, though?" He goes, "It's genetics and environment, some combination of those factors. Ya know, it's the phrase Francis Galton coined... nature and nurture." I go, "Huh, really?" He says, "Yeah, and what a coincidence Galton is a half brother of Charles Darwin. Did you know that?" Turning my head to look at him, I go, "I never heard of Francis Galton before in my life."
That's the end of that discussion, and we're quiet again until Mickey asks, "Can I have something to drink, Matt?" I say, "Yep, soda or water?" He goes, "A bottle of water, please," and I go, "Yeah, most homes would have bottled water, but we don't. Mom says she's not spending money on bottled water when we have all the water we want from the tap." He goes, "My dad won't buy it either, but not for that reason. He says plastic is ruining the environment." I go, "Oh, that. Well, I'll get my boyfriend a glass of ice water. You lie there and let your pussy boy wait on you." He snickers, saying, "It is good you've accepted your position as my pussy-boy boyfriend. And, by the way, is your pussy feeling any better yet?" I get out of bed and mutter, "No, it isn't."
As I'm walking out of the bedroom, he yells, "You're not a pussy boy! I'm kidding you!" I know that, hell, I was joking too. He doesn't get my jokes or, more likely; I don't say them correctly. In the kitchen, I get Mickey a glass of water and ice and then get myself a cold can of Coke.
We sit up in bed drinking our drinks, and then Mickey points to dried cum here and there on his body. I go, "Christ, I've got more cum on me than that." He says, "We need to take a shower together." I go, "Ya see, that's why you're our leader! I'd have never thought of that." He snickers and says, "But first, it's your turn to be 'the guy.'" I go, "Oh man, really? You mean you'll be the 'other guy' on the bottom?" He goes, "Yep, you were right that we talked about doing it that way once in a while?" I nod, mumbling, "Uh-huh, now you're talking." He asks, "Can you get it 'up' with your sore ass?" Nodding, I'm like, "For you? Absolutely. A sore ass has very little to do with getting 'it' up anyhow. By the way, I knew that you'd be fair about this. Taking turns being 'the guy' during sex is the fair thing to do."
He shrugs, "I don't know about," and he does air-quotes with his fingers, "Taking turns. That isn't exactly what I have in mind, but once in a while, yes, that's fair. I'm still 'the guy' most of the time, though, and you're the 'bottom.' Okay?" I nod, "Okay, yeah, I knew that. I don't mind being the pussy guy. Hell, I really like it actually... and I'll probably prefer it although that's a premature conclusion considering I've never tried the 'top' part."
I'm super excited to see what that feels like. We're still sitting up in bed, so I take Mickey empty water glass and put it next to my alarm clock on the bedside table, then take the last swallow from my Coke and set the can there too, then ask, "How should we do this?" Mickey shrugs, "You've never done this before, the 'top' part, for real?" I'm like, "Nope, never, but it doesn't seem all that complicated. I've watched the gay models on videos fuck a hundred and fifty-seven times, and you fucked my brains out last night, and I was the 'bottom' two other times, plus I'm a quick learner so, um, well actually... hmm, I'm not sure how to start...hahaha."
He grins and then laughs and says, "Do it the way I did it last night." I smirk and ask, "Where's the Vaseline?" He goes, "NO! Not that... you were right; a condom is better." Mumbling, "I told you that," I get off the bed and lift the corner of the mattress to take two condoms out of the pack of condoms I have hidden there. Mickey goes, "Two? You're an optimistic, huh?" I mutter, "At least I didn't take five out of the pack." He snickers and says, "I have a confession, Burke, I'm petrified. Does it hurt bad?" Shaking my head, getting back on the bed, I go, "Don't be a pussy about this. Yeah, it hurts a little when my tiny dick stretches your a-hole to start, but, 'it' will feel fantastic after that." He doesn't appear reassured, so I say, "I'm gonna go very slow and stop if you tell me to."
Putting one of the condom packets next to my Coke can, I hold onto the other one and ask, "Are you ready?" He nods, mumbling, "I guess," and I push the covers down and scramble to get between his legs. "Pull your legs back." He looks doubtful but does that, and I go, "Wow! Nice ass," and I squeeze the left butt cheek, mumbling, "Christ, that's firm. Do you exercise?" He says, "I take dance," and I laugh out loud at that, but stop laughing immediately when I notice he's serious.
Acting seriously myself now, I go, "Dance, huh? What kind?" He says, "Um, different kinds, ah, ballet and some modern dance, like that." Holy shit. I nod, "Gee, that's um, ah, different. Is that what you do Wednesdays after working for your dad?" He says, "Uh-huh. Do you wanna do this, or what?" I go, "Oh yeah, but um, maybe you can teach me to dance. I mean, regular dancing like fast dance for club music." He says, "Sure, I'll teach you."
Taking a deep breath, I go, "Okay, then. Ya know what? This position, you on your back, um, it looks challenging. How about, um, the gay models on video do this with a guy on his hands and knees. I'll get behind you and, ya know." He shrugs, "Yeah, I've seen that a lot too." He flips around and gets on his hands and knees, mumbling, "Don't forget to go slow." For a joke, I say, "Isn't this romantic?" and for once, we laugh together, and then he says, "Fuck, romantic, I'm nervous!"
Okay, here we go. I stroke my dick and then rub it on his ass a few times while visualizing in my head, my dick disappearing up his ass. That gets me stirred up a little... it isn't very long before I've got a half-decent boner. Mickey's nervousness has reduced some of the anticipations I was feeling. It'd be so much better if he were saying something encouraging like 'he can hardly wait to experience this'. Instead, he's acting as if he's facing a firing squad.
Anyway, I roll the condom onto my decent boner that's, at the very least, five inches long with a normal heft to it. My dick looks similar to many guys' dicks I've seen, so I'm okay with it. Mickey has an exceptional cock, but since he's never going to feel his up his ass, he won't miss the extra length.
My fingers get sticky with lube, so I wipe them on the sheet, then tell Mickey what Bobby told me, "Try to relax, especially your ass muscles." Man, I'm trying to act calm, but I'm anxious. Holding my dick in my fingers, I poke the head at Mickey's asshole, which I admit doesn't seem big enough, not nearly big enough, but theoretically, it'll open as mine did. Why wouldn't it, ya know?
And it does a little but not willingly, so I exert more pressure and MIckey tenses his muscles, the opposite of what he should be doing. His body is as taut as a fist. Damn, I exert even more pressure, and the head of my cock slides very tightly in. That would be a success, except Mickey screams.
I never screamed; why's he screaming? The scream scared me, so I immediately pull my cock out, and ask, "What's wrong?" He goes, "Oh Christ! That 'effing hurt!" He turns around and sits, looking at my condom-encased cock. Frowning, he mumbles, "Oh, it's not big. I thought, um, it felt like a log or some damn big something." I don't know what to say to that, and then he mumbles, "I'm sorry, Burke. I'll be alright now that I know it's not, um... Ah, I'm sorry," and he gets back on his hands and knees.
Now my dick isn't as hard as it was ten seconds ago. Well, his dick wasn't especially hard last night the first couple of times he did it. I push the head against his asshole, and with some effort, it goes in again. I don't push it further, waiting to see if Mickey is gonna scream. He doesn't, but I sure wish he'd give me encouragement, saying something, like 'go ahead' or 'I'm good' or something. I look at my dick, the head out of sight, but this seems okay. My dick is feeling fine, for sure.
Okay, everything is normal as far as I can tell, so I push in a little more and so far so good, but when I push it in another inch, he screams and pulls away to lie flat on the bed. It was a short, high-pitched scream this time, but now I think I hear a sniffle. Aw, the poor guy.
I lie next to him, attempting to keep my condom-encased boner off the bed, and ask, "You okay, Mickey?" Dumb question 'cause, obviously, he's not okay. He shrugs as he's mumbling, "I'm sorry, but it was painful. I'll try again, though." Well, hell, it's not worth it. I say, "That's okay; you don't have to," and he goes, "No, I don't wanna let you down." His face is in the pillow, and I think he was crying. I pull the condom off, saying, "Sure, we'll try again, but not today. I don't wanna do this now. Seriously, I don't. Some other time."
He mutter, "Really, you don't wanna try it again?" I go, "Nope, not now. Ah, I'm not feeling it. I already took the 'effin condom off. We're good," and I rub his back. He moves his face back and forth on the pillow... as if I don't know he's wiping off tears. I'm not gonna say anything about that, though. Instead, I go, "I was probably doing it wrong." He flops over on his back, his eyes looking red as he says, "I fucked this up royally, Burke. It's all my fault; you were doing fine. I don't understand why it hurt so much, though."
I can't think of anything to say to that, so I make one of Mickey's and my favorite responses, I shrug. He holds onto my arm, looking at me and murmuring, "Seriously, I'm sorry," and I shake my head, mumbling, "Don't, um, you don't need to keep saying 'sorry.' No problem. Christ, I'm sorry I hurt you. Let's forget about it for now, okay?" He quietly says, "You're a really, really nice friend, Burke. I'm so glad I jumped in the reservoir with you." I mumble, "Me too."
Then we both lie back and don't say anything for a few minutes. These silent minutes are handy 'cause they give me the time to think what to say next, and I come up with this, "Mickey," and when he looks at me I go, "Please don't let this temporary, um, not-perfect-attempt of ours put a damper on the rest of the day for us. This is a minor, only a minor setback. You and I have something good happening, and nothing's perfect anyway, so let's move on from it." Mickey nods, looking serious, and then asks, "What are you referring to?" I'm making a 'face' like, 'what the fuck?' and he grins, saying, "I'm kidding you." I go, "I knew that," and he goes, "No, seriously, good talk, Burke! And I mean that! You're an awesome boyfriend."
Sitting up, I mutter, "Sure," and reach down to pull the covers over us and we sort of snuggle together for a few minutes until Mickey asks, "Do you wanna take that shower together we talked about?" I go, "What an awesome idea; let's do it now."
We both get out of bed, still naked, of course, and walk out of my bedroom as Mickey asks, "Which way?" I point to the end of the hall, and as we start walking, Mickey takes my hand, saying, "You should be our leader, Mattie. I mean, that was a seriously good 'talk' about the setback." I squeeze his hand, "Oh, no, you don't. You're our leader," and he goes, "Yeah, you're right. Or, we'll take turns depending on, um, whatever."
In the bathroom, I turn the water on in the tub and get the shower going. Mickey points at my crotch and says, "Shame about your small dick," and I grin, mumbling, "Yeah, it's tiny, and yet it's too big for your pussy." He snorts out a laugh and goes, "Good one, Burke! I 'teed' you up for that one." We slap hands, and then I get in the tub and say, "Oh, before you get in here, Mickey, grab a washcloth from that cabinet under the sink."
He does that and hands it to me before he joins me under the shower's flow of water. This is a smallish house but with a monster water flow, which is to say, excellent water pressure. After putting generic body wash on the washcloth, I wipe the condom's lubricant off Mickey's ass, swipe the washcloth up and down my dick, and then toss it in the hamper, saying, "I wanna bath your body with my hands." He mutters, "Oh, good." We wash each other but mostly just where we got cum on ourselves and, of course, a little unnecessary penis-washing just for the hell of it, us giggling like girls although we both manage to spring boners, which girls can't do.
Mickie says, "Have you ever noticed some guys' pubic hair just keeps going up onto their stomachs and even their chests." I go, "Yeah, icky look, although I guess some would say it's uber-masculine. All that disgusting curly body hair is supposedly masculine, and me a queer, I'm supposed to like masculine, but I simply do not like hairy bodies. I like bodies, male bodies, free of body hair. And, also kinda skinny as opposed to either fat bodies or body-builder bodies... those I don't like."
He goes, "Yeah, in other words, bodies like your own. You're in love with your own body, no problem," I go, "No, um, that's not what I mean." He smirks at me, "I was kidding with you again. That was obviously a joke!" and then he turns around and gets under the water flow rinsing off. Turning back around, he says, "In my junior year I went crazy one time and shaved my pubes. Dude, what a gay thing to do, but it looked so cool and made my dick look bigger." I go, "What'd you do about gym class and taking showers with all the guys?" He moves aside so I can get under the water, as he mutters, "I didn't have gym junior year."
The hot water flowing over us feels good, and the shower seems to be also washing away the awkwardness of our failed sex attempt. Hoping to keep us moving away from that, I say, "Let's shave our pubes. Nobody but us will know." He nods his head really fast and goes, "Oh fuck, I dare you." I'm like, "Why do you keep daring me when I've already indicated I wanna do, um, whatever it is you dared me to do?" He shrugs, "I don't know," and we laugh together. I go, "Hey, we're getting on the same page with our laughing."
Staying in the shower, we use lots of my shaving cream to carefully shave each other's pubes, and, naturally, I get the most monstrous boner while doing it. Oh, Christ, I'm like, "My dick is gonna split; it's so hard." Mickey gets behind me, and, reaching around; he jerks me off with the same motion he'd use to jerk himself off. I'm leaning against his chest until I get ready to blow my load, and then my back arches away from Mickey as I gasp and go, "Ahhh, ooooh," and a long string of cum shoots out almost four feet. He chuckles, murmuring, "Holy shit, look at that," and then squeezes drools of cum from my softening cock as I sigh, "Ohhh, man. Jesus... whew."
Mickey lets go of me and then moves the showerhead, so the water reaches the other end of the tub where I shot my load. I go, "Did you see that string of spunk?" He mutters, "Yep, it was impressive. Maybe it's the secret ingredient in the physics' string theory." Looking at him, I go, "I didn't take physics, but if I'd known it was about cum and string, maybe I would have." He snickers, "Yeah, for me, it was either physics or shop, and I took the easier physics course."
Turning off the water, we get out of the tub and grab towels. I'm like, "Okay, what's string have to do with physics?" He shakes his head, "It's not something I can summarize in a sentence." I go, "Try," and he says, "Vibrating strings unify physics, theoretically. Um, string theory is the theory of everything. We exist in three dimensions, but string theory adds 'time' as a fourth dimension, although ten or eleven dimensions work better." I hold up my hand, saying, "Stop! You were right. Don't tell me any more, please." He goes, "I told you," and then he goes, "Oh, look, I missed some pubic hairs under your small nuts," and I snort out a laugh, then say, "The size of my privates are average. Yours are in the above-average category."
Then I'm holding my nuts up, "Oh yeah, you missed some." We dump our towels in the hamper, and Mickey goes, "Look at this." He has my mom's bottle of Nair. I go, "Oh, no," and he says, "Yeah, let's do it." I'm like, "Omigod, um, okay." He reads the instructions on the bottle and says, "It's not supposed to be used around genitals, but I think that's for females, it could get into their snatches."
He squeezes some in my hand, saying, "Just rub it lightly all around your nuts, it's harmless." As I do that, I'm like, "How's it work?" Mickey's smoothing the cream all around his privates, mumbling, "It's a depilatory, um, it dissolves the hair and should last longer than shaving." That took forty-five seconds, and now we're washing our hands standing next to each other at the sink.
Then, standing back, we're both looking at our Nair-covered junk. I ask, "How long do we leave it on?" He goes, "It says three to ten minutes." We can't wait the full ten minutes, but we last five minutes, so that's pretty good, and then rub it off using a clean washcloth. I go, "Wow, that shit really worked!" Our cock and balls haven't been this hairless since we were six years old, um, I mean six seconds old.
To be safe, we wash our privates, and then I'm like, "That was random, Mickey. Kinda cool, um, but would you mind if I did a washload now? The towels and washcloths we've used are feeling up the hamper and, um, mom will notice we were up to something." He goes, "Why would I mind? But, Jesus," and he lifts his dick to check all around his nuts, "That Nair is amazing." I go, "Do you think we might be a little bit too fixated on this?" He nods, "Yeah, you're right," and we go to the bedroom and get dressed. As I'm putting my sneakers on, Mickey says, "I'll help you with the wash."
In the basement, we get the washing machine working and lean against the dryer, not saying anything until Mickey goes, "I'm sure you realize we're doing the type of sex and messing around normally done by experimenting thirteen-year-old boys. Ya know that, right?" I go, "We're catching up with the advanced boys who were thinking they were gay early on." He snickers, "Good rationalization, Burke! I like that."
We didn't shampoo our hair, but it got soaking wet in the shower. I lean over and rub through my hair, getting excess water to drip on the floor, then straighten up, I mumble, "Our hair blows, MIckey." He goes, "I know. I gave up trying to dry mine after a shower because it takes too long, and hairdryers are too noisy." I'm like, "So, tomorrow after I pick you up, we get haircuts, okay?" He goes, "Hey, mister, I'm our leader." I nod, "Yeah, so what should we do." He says, "After you pick me up tomorrow afternoon, we'll get haircuts." We snicker, and I mutter, "Good plan."
While the washing machine is doing its thing, we put Totino's Pepperoni Pizza Rolls in the over and then get cans of Coke. Waiting for the snack to bake, I say, "I'm starving 'cause I never had breakfast or lunch." He mumbles, "That's why you're so thin." I finger comb Mickey's hair off his forehead, asking, "What are we gonna tell the barber?" He shrugs, then goes, "I've got an idea. Who's our idol for 'coolness'?" and we say together, "Jello!" Mickey says, "Yep, and this works out great for us because Jello had a haircut a few days ago. I saw him at the bowling alley. We'll take pictures of his haircut and show it to the barber and then get haircuts like Jello's."
I'm nodding, mumbling, "This is just one more example of why you're our leader. Awesome idea!" Mickey says, "It's keeping with our thirteen-year-old-boys' theme as well," and we both bust a nut laughing even though it's true. When we stop laughing, I take the pizza rolls snack from the oven, saying, "Actually the hair conversation is more like thirteen-year-old girls, not boys," and we laugh at ourselves some more. It's gotten into the area where we want to laugh and, therefore, we laugh harder than warranted.
I eat most of the pizza rolls, and then we put the towels and clothes from the washing machine into the dryer and head out to find Jello. After Mickey fucks around for thirty seconds with his seatbelt, getting it hooked up, I drive away, asking, "Where should we look for our idol?" Mickey says, "I know where he probably is. Doug Fisher texted me to play softball this afternoon. I told him I had to do something, but I'll bet Jello is playing in the game." I go, "Doug Fisher texts you?" Mickey's like, "Yeah, I'm pretty far down the list when they're rounding up enough guys for a softball game, but I am on the list, albeit near the bottom, as I said."
Hmm, I take out my phone, and there's the text I expected. It's from Dean, 'Yo, Matt. Wanna play softball this afternoon?' Yep, Dean is on the unwritten 'list' for texts about things like ballgames, and I'm on Dean's list. Haha, I've never been on 'that' other Dean's list though, the one in high school. Anyway, Dean's text was sent over two hours ago... a rare text from Dean. Too bad I didn't see it when it came through, it would have been kind of exciting. For the record, I text Dean back, 'Sorry, Dean, I just checked my phone. It was charging.' A small lie.
I texted him back even though it's useless information by now, but I don't think it's right, ignoring texts the way a lot of guys do. Plus, this gives me a good reason to be at Kent park, where they'll be playing softball. So it's all good, assuming we find Jello there.
Mickey and I are quiet during the drive to Kent Park, but I feel okay with that. As I'm parking, Mickey says, "How do your balls feel? Mine feel great." I go, "I can't wait for my pubes to grow out so we can do it all over again." He snickers and mumbles, "I like the Nair treatment best. Smooth as a baby's ass, that's what my nuts are now."
As we're getting out of the car, I go, "Yeah, that's true, but I can't seem to stop the creepiness I'm feeling about it. It's bothering my common sense. I'm fighting it off, but it is a bit creepy, ya know?" He goes, "Nooo, it's cool, Burke. Um, but don't tell anybody we did it." I go, "Are you crazy? Jesus, this is going to the grave with me."
We can see there's a softball game going on way down the other end of the park, and that there are more guys and girls there than just the players in the game. Mickey says, "I'll bet you ten bucks there's a quarter keg of beer involved in that ballgame." As we walk across the grass field, he says, "Do you really think it was creepy we shaved our pubes together?" I shrug, "Yeah, don't you? Still, I guess it's alright because it was you and me who did it, and we were just having a fun, goofy gay time, but as you said, we'll keep it between us."
Walking near Darby Creek, so we don't interrupt the game, I see Dean pitching, and three girls on his team in the outfield. I go, "Look, Mickey, girls are on the teams." He says, "That ruins a serious softball game, but 'straight' guys are more interested in girls than the softball game." I mumble, "How can they stand all the giggling?" He shrugs, "I don't know, but I like girls, don't you?" I drop the subject because I'm not sure if I do or not. Yeah, I guess I have nothing against girls except I hate that girl who humiliated me when I was six years old. Actually, most girls were nicer to me in high school than guys were. And now that I think about it, it's only girls giggling that annoys me; not when Mickey and I giggle.
We walk behind the backstop to join about fifteen guys and girls watching the game. We're stopped by Mark Baker's brother, Terrence. He can be depended upon to always be an asshole-bully, and he doesn't disappoint. Terrence grabs Mickey's arm, saying, "Hey, you two fags need to come up with three dollars each if you wanna drink any of this beer." Mickey says, "I don't want any beer. And you can bite me, Terry, with your 'fag' remark. You're the fag." I'm like, "Hey, no! Let's have some cold beer," and I give Terrence six bucks. He puts the money in his pocket. Nodding at me as he says to Mickey, "This skinny mute fucker saved you from getting your teeth knocked down your throat, Miller."
We get plastic cups, and I pour some beer from the keg and see my old sex-buddy Mark playing shortstop. Jeez, I try not to make eye contact... this is awkward. He looks cute, really cute, actually, and he's very youthful-looking, like Mickey. I don't know who looks younger between the two. Christ, and then I think of how pretty Bobby is and then glance over at Mickey. No, looks, aren't everything! They aren't as important as I used to think they were. My dick buzzes a little as I notice Mark's pretty red hair, pretty shade of red. Christ, Mark is wicked cute! When I blew him, his pubes were sorta orange... no, stop thinking about that! Mickey's got better-looking hair anyway; it's that white/blond color that's rare.
Mickey takes the cup of beer I'm holding out to him, and says, "I hate that cunt-lapper," meaning Terrence, obviously. I wave my hand at Mickey for him to keep it down, and, as we're walking away from the keg, Mickey goes, "Oh, there's Jello talking with some girls. He's got a bat on his shoulder. That fucker is so cool!" I'm like, "Where is he?" He goes, "Over there," and he points. I go, "Oh, yeah. Gee, he has a wicked short haircut. It's not usual,ly that short, ya know?"
We walk towards Jello, who is holding 'court' with three girls, all of whom are flirting with him. Grace Falco is standing next to the overweight girl, Ronnie, whatshername. Ronnie's wearing stretchy shorts, which exaggerate how fat her ass is, and Brenda is with them too. She sees me and yells, "My cutie boyfriend, Mattie Burke." Oh, fuck!
She comes over and puts her arm around my waist, guiding me away from Mickey as she says, "Can I have some of your beer, Mattie?" I go, "Hi Brenda, um, sure," and give her the cup. After taking only a sip, she hands the cup back to me, leaving a lipstick impression on the rim. Lighting a cigarette, she says, "Dotti Cummings is having a birthday cookout next Saturday afternoon, and I want you to be my date, okay?" I go, "I'd love to Brenda, but that's my day to be Tommy Singleterry's caregiver." That's a lie, but a believable one because most of these guys know I do that. I get mocked for it occasionally, but not so much anymore.
Brenda says, "Dammit, Mattie, on the one hand, that's so sweet of you to help that poor bastard. Ya know, I almost volunteered myself but came to my senses before doing a crazy thing like that. But, fuck, I really wanted to get you drunk at the birthday cookout and show you the intricacies of sex." I go, "That sounds very, um, interesting but..." She goes, "Yeah, but you need to be Tommy-the-prick's caregiver. Damn, Mattie!" She takes my cup and drinks some more beer, but from the other side this time, so now there are two lipstick outlines on the cup. Walking us back to the group, she says, "How come you never ask me out?" I go, "I don't know," and Dean comes over, saying, "Mattie! Wassup, bro?" Then he goes, "Take a hike, Brenda," she gives Dean the finger, saying, "Mattie and I have finished our talk, or I'd tell YOU to take a fucking hike."
This kind of interaction tires me out. Brenda struts away. Dean ignores her and asks me, "Did you see me strike out the last two guys?" I shake my head, and he goes, "Hey, what'd you do last night?" To avoid answering that, I'm like, "What'd you do?" and he says, "I took Jadeen White to the movies, bro, and later, well, you wouldn't understand." Someone yells over, "Yo, Morris, you're 'up' next." He says, "I gotta bat, dude. Stick around; I might need a ride home."
I'm looking for Mickey and then see him waving at me, so I go over, and he says, "I took two pictures of Jello, but I think I was too far away. You need to talk to him, so I can get close." Nodding, I mumble, "What can I say, though?" He shrugs, "Ask him where he gets his haircut," and I'm like, "I know where he goes. It's that barbershop in the ACE Hardware plaza, Sports Clips." He goes, "Oh, okay, ask him why he goes there, and I'll get close-ups of his haircut." I go, "This is just more girlish-thirteen-year-old shit we're doing. You know that, I hope!" He goes, "We're almost done with it, though," and we both burst out laughing as I mutter, "We're fuckin' sick."
Resigned to do it, I walk over to Jello, who has his hands on Grace Falco's stomach, saying, "If I move my hand up accidentally, would you be offended?" She says, "Would I get offended if you feel me up, ya mean?" She's not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Jello goes, "I mean if it's accidental touching..." and he sees me and goes, "Burke, come over here and feel-up Grace. I wanna see what she does before I try it." I go, "Hi Jello, um, hi Grace. I'm not going to do that," and she says, "I wouldn't mind if you did do it, Mattie." I shake my head and make a face at Mickey because now's a good time for him to take the stupid pictures. There's a subtle sound when Mickey clicks his cell phone picture-button, and Jello goes, "Hey, Miller, did you just take my picture?"
Mickey goes, "Huh? No, why would I do that?" and, turning back to me, Jello goes, "Oh, Jesus Christ! I just remembered! I owe you five bucks, Burke. Why the fuck didn't you remind me?" and he hands me a five-dollar bill as Mickey takes pictures behind Jello's head. I can't help grinning and then snickering because this is so fucked up. Jello goes, "What the fuck you laughing at, Burke?" and he turns, saying, "Miller, are you queer for me, or what? You took my picture again?" Mickey sees me snickering, and he starts laughing while shaking his head, mumbling, "As I said, why the fuck would I take your picture, Jello?" Jello laughs and says, "Because you worship me, of course. Don't you dare jerk off staring at my picture, Miller."
Jello looks so awesome with his perfect hair and a tannish, like a tannish complexion, and with the birthmark or beauty mark on his cheek, and his awesomely cute grin, and his super white teeth. I'd love to kiss him except my boyfriend would dump me. That makes me think about Mark again, and I look for him but can't spot him right now.
Mickey and I stay for forty-five minutes, so I'll get my money's worth of beer, and then we leave because Mickey wants to try being a 'bottom' again. I have no problem with that, except, in my head, I'm hearing him scream. I'm not optimistic it'll work this time either.
So, anyway, we successfully accomplished our mission haircut-wise, and as we're walking back to the parking lot, I look at the pictures of Jello's haircut on Mickey's phone, and mumble, "Jeez, it's a short haircut, Mickey, but it's still a haircut with a part on the side and that awesome retro-pompadour in front." He says, "Ya don't see red hair on guys with an olive complexion, like ever." I'm like, "Is that true? I never thought about it before."
Ignoring that he goes, "To be honest, Mattie, that haircut Jello got is not a haircut I'd choose, but then I don't know what I would choose so if you're happy with it, that's what we'll ask the lady at Sports Clips to replicate." I'm like, "I've never had a lady barber," and he goes, "I've never had a barber, period." I look at him, mumbling, "That's hard to conceive." He shrugs.
We go back to my house, and ten minutes later, we're attempting a fuck with Mickey the 'bottom' again. This time I get maybe as much as two whole inches of my dick in before Mickey waves his hand, saying, "No, no! This hurts too much," and I pull out and, trying not to sound too discouraged, mumble, "Well, anyway, you were brave to try again." He goes, "I'm gonna keep trying too, but not for a few days if it's okay with you." I nod, "Sure, okay, you decide." At least he's still willing to try it again and, while it's a small matter, there go three more condoms down the toilet. Two from our earlier attempts and then just now. I'm not saying anything about that, though. I mean, Christ, I'm not that cheap.
We mess around combing our hair, trying to imagine what we're gonna look like after our haircuts tomorrow, but our hair is way too long to get an idea of how it'll look. I'm like, "We're doing girl shit again. All this fucking around with our hair is very girl-like." He goes, "We won't need to worry about it after our haircuts." We drop the combs we were using, and I go, "Jeez, what's Jello gonna say when he sees us?" We both chuckled at that. It will be funny the three of us with the same exact haircuts, funny but weird too.
As we usually do, we're soon having second thoughts about following through on our Jello-haircut plans. We go online to look at guys' haircuts. Wow, there are some extreme-haircut styles nowadays. Then we Google anal sex and why it hurts some, but not others. As usual, there isn't anything definitive one way or the other. I've found that to be true. There are a lot of vacillating about every subject you can think of online; no one is willing to say anything definitive. It's as though no one wants to be on the record stating anything that might get them sued later when an exception to their conclusion occurs.
At five-thirty, I give Mickey a ride home, and then I have a quiet couple of hours playing video games on the family room TV. When my parents come in loud and slightly inebriated, I go to my room to begin thinking about work tomorrow. I'll see Bobby and what will I say if now he wants to do what he said he was gonna do last week? And what if Mark gets around to calling or texting me? Those two possibilities make me very nervous, but Mickey is my boyfriend, and I can't mess around with the other two, each of whom has half my cherry, so to speak. Jeez, there is always something for me to worry about...
To be continued... Chapter 9 'Boyfriends' donnymumford@outlook.com
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