Waiting for a Miracle

WAITING FOR A MIRACLE

by Donny Mumford

Chapter 9 'Boyfriends'

Driving to work Monday morning, my ass is again feeling normal. That's good news, but I'm super nervous about how I'm going to act and what I'm going to say to Bobby Smart now that MIckey and I are boyfriends. Mickey's boyfriend 'rule' could cause an awkward situation for me if Bobby decides he now wants to do what he said he was gonna do last week. In other words, come over to my house so we can have sex.

Parking at UPS, I see Bobby's motorcycle and my anxiety about seeing him grows. Complicating matters is the fact I really like him, and he was super nice to me, and he's so fucking good-looking it's sick. He's the prettiest guy I've ever seen, haha, yeah, I know... ya don't think of a 'guy' as pretty, but I do when thinking about Bobby. He's pretty, but not, um, not 'girlie-looking-pretty'. He wasn't 'girlie-looking' even when he had curls. And, he doesn't have the curls now anyway, not after his bitch-girlfriend cut them off. She's in hairdresser school and talked Bobby into letting her give him a stupidly short haircut.

Walking inside the building, I realize I'm getting some details of my extraordinary past month jumbled in my head. Not on purpose, it's just that so much has happened recently, starting with Mark and Dennis, and then Bobby, and now Mickey, it's overwhelming. Especially for me, who had no sexual success for nineteen years, and then, all of a sudden to have the unprecedented success I've recently had, well, it's not easy making 'sense' of it all.

But, no, I'm not complaining! No, no... these past few weeks represent, hands down, the best part of my life so far. Nothing else is even close. It is confusing, though, and as I'm thinking these thoughts, Bobby comes up behind me and slaps me on the back, saying, "Matt, I've missed you!" I startle easily, so I jumped a foot in the air, and Bobby laughs as I go, "Omigod! Um, hi, Bobby."

Jeez, his hair looks worse than I remember, what a shame. He's energetic as usual, as he says, "Yeah, I see you staring at my hair, Mattie." Dropping my eyes to look over his shoulder now, I mumble, "No, um, sorry. It's just that I guess I liked your curly hair better." Fuck, I'm regressing on my eye-contact efforts, so I look right into Bobby's eyes and do a double-take because I forgot about his different-colored eyes.

He didn't notice my 'double-take,' and says, "You were looking at my hair because it sucks. Omigod, haha, I liked it better before Bab's did this to it too" Chuckling, he adds, "I don't want to rub it in, but, dude, your hair ain't too cool either." I nod, "I know, you're right. I'm getting a haircut today after work." He winks at me with his blue eye and says, "Good idea, my friend."

We 'time-clock' in and head to our work station as Bobby asks, "What kind of haircut are you gonna get, bro?" Shrugging, I try to sound confident, like it's routine, "Just a regular one," although I don't know what I mean by that. Bobby doesn't care, and changes the subject, saying, "I took your advice and looked at videos online about working better at package handling." I nod, "Did that help?" He goes, "No, not that I noticed. Can you help me out a little this morning? Get me started offon the right foot."

Bobby has such a nice 'way' about him that now I can't get the Friday night we had together out of my mind. Then, reminding myself how Bobby dumped me for his old girlfriend, and then the next day for his long-time sex buddy, I get a little pissed and hurt all over again. Nevertheless, I work on his line, increasing his packages handling score for the day. After forty-five minutes, I begin on my packages and need to skip lunch, working my ass off to meet my quota for today.

There's never much talking as we work, so it's not until I'm driving to Mickey's house that it registers in my head how Bobby never mentioned him and me doing 'it.' I mean, ten days ago he wanted to come over every day after work. Um, not that we could have done that now that I'm with Mickey, but it hurts that he never even mentioned it. I don't want to think about how catastrophic Bobby completely dropping me as his sex-buddy would have been if I didn't have Mickey as my boyfriend. Thank God for Mickey.

I never knew a situation such as I experienced with Bobby could happen. From what for me was a perfect day that time with Bobby, where he said confidently that we'd be having many more days like that, and then zero, nothing. I suppose it's totally possible there isn't anything unusual about Bobby, or Mark, for that matter, having a casual buddy-sex fling with me and promising things in the heat of the moment that they had no intention of backing up. Sure, we're still friends, and we may even hook up again someday, but it doesn't matter to either of them one way or the other. Buddy-sex-wise, I guess, it happens all the time, but it does surprise me. Buddy-sex appears to be a game, not for the faint of heart.

As I'm approaching Mickey's house, what other conclusion can I come to? Dumping buddy-sex-buddies must happen routinely as it happened to me twice in eight days. Huh...

Mickey isn't waiting at the curb today, so I beep the horn, and he comes right out. I can tell from one quick glance that he's shampooed and used cream rinse on his hair because it's shiny and puffy looking, like a women's hairdo. He gets him and says, "Hi, Burke," and he chuckles, adding, "You'll think it's creepy, but I was wondering if boyfriends are supposed to kiss 'hello' when they meet. Ya know like you see boyfriends and girlfriends doing that. Do you know?" I go, "My creepy-meter just went off, so you're right about the 'creepy' part and, no, I'm not sure if we're supposed to do that or not. In either case, I don't wanna do it." He goes, "Good, just checking 'cause I don't want to disappoint you again. I already disappointed you by not being able to, well, you know." He means him bombing-out as a 'bottom.'

I mumble, "Don't be so hard on yourself," and then add coyly, "Spend a lot of time on your hair, did ya?" He blushes, "Whaddaya mean. Oh, um, sure, I shampooed it. I don't want to gross-out the barber, but shampooing isn't weird. Everybody does it." Touching my hair, I go, "Heh, heh, I probably should have thought of that. Well, I didn't have time this morning, and I'm not about to do it now." He shrugs, and I go, "Hey, have you notice how we're conversing like normal people?" He goes, "Except for what we were talking about, yeah." We both snicker at that.

The Ace Hardware plaza is in Drexel Hill, so I drive across the bridge, and Mickey does what I always do, which is looking down at Kent Park that's sixty feet below. Ya know, to see if any guys are there drinking or smoking pot. When we've been silent for two minutes, Mickey asks, "How do your hairless balls feel?" Feeling self-conscious, I chuckle and mumble, "Jesus, um, they feel awesome, haha. We're sick for doing that, ya know?" He goes, "Yeah? I think it's cool doing things most guys don't have the balls to do, no pun intended." I mumble, "Or they have enough common sense not to do it." He goes, "Well, that's another way of looking at it, yeah."

Parking in the Ace Hardware parking lot, we sit here with the car idling. It's as if we don't want to do this haircut thing. Finally, Mickey says, "I'm more nervous about doing this than I was about the failed attempts to be a bottom boy for you." I go, "Huh? Oh, I guess because you've never been to a barbershop. But, fuck, I'm nervous too. I mean, I've never been in a, um, formal 'chain' barbershop like Sport Clips. They're all women barbers in there, and it's a chain, so there are probably procedures, protocol to follow. Things like signing-in at the receptionist and maybe there are numbers representing different haircut styles or whatnot. Sal's barbershop, all you do is sit down and wait your turn. Plus, I don't know what to tell the lady barber. Oh, and I think they shampoo our hair! A wasted effort in your case, and an awkward one in mine. Also, I saw a TV commercial that they use hot towels for some reason. Or, I'm not sure if it's here or Supercuts."

Mickey looks at me frowning, so I go, "What?" He's like, "Is all that supposed to make me less nervous about this?" Running my fingers through my hair, I'm like, "Do you realize we're the only two guys on earth agonizing about getting a friggin' haircut?" He shrugs, "How the hell would I know." I go, "You're our leader. What should we do?"

He bites his bottom lip and thinks. Two minutes later, he says, "Let's go to your barber. At least you know what to expect there, and neither of us, let's be honest, neither of us has the balls to show the lady barber a photo of Jello's haircut. We're nerds, but not that nerdy." I go, "That's not so nerdy! People show pictures in magazines, or point to pictures of different haircuts on the wall of the barbershop indicating what they want." He asks, "Will you show the pictures then?" I shrug, "Sure! I mean, I would if we were going in Sport Clips, but since you want us to go to Sal's, forget it."

Still sitting here in the idling car, we watch two guys in their twenties walk out of the barbershop talking to each other. I mutter, "You know damn well they're not talking about their hair. To them, getting their hair cut was just a routine thing to do once a month." Mickey shrugs, and I mumble, "We need to get our shit together..."

Mickey looks at me and asks, "Well, why are we still sitting here?" Shrugging, I back out of the parking spot, and Mickey almost whines, "Do you wanna forget about the haircuts today?" I'm like, "Seriously?" He goes, "Let's go to your house, and I'll be 'the guy,' and we'll fuck. We know that'll work. Maybe go online to find out more about Sport Clips and what the protocol is before coming back tomorrow."

My ass actually twitched when he suggested sex at my house. I resist the urge to poke at my asshole and say, "That's wicked tempting, but I wanna get this damn haircut done once and for all." He says, "Drive to whatshisname's barbershop then." I look at his youthful sort of homely face that's growing on me, and mumble, "Good decision," and then drive out of the parking lot.

Sal's Barbershop is in downtown Clifton Heights, which isn't much of a downtown. I park at a meter, and Mickey puts some change in it to cover us for an hour. As we're walking the half-block back to the barbershop, Mickey says, "I'm so nervous I'm gonna pee my pants." I make a 'face' at him but can't think of anything to say that's not insulting.

Sal's is a very old barbershop. Years ago, he told me it was his father's shop back in 'the day.' The old barber chairs are original ones going back many years. They're big old fashion barber chairs and the floor creaks, and there's an 'old-timey' smell to the place, like a cheap aftershave.

When we walk in the door a bell sounds, Mickey gives me a 'look' that I ignore. There are two kids about seven or eight years old and a woman waiting for haircuts. Not the woman, she's obviously the kids' mother. In the first barber chair, Sal's cutting an old man's white hair. In the chair next to Sal's is a very fat barber named Dominic. I always try to get him, but it rarely works because Sal knows me by name after fifteen years and tells me to wait for him 'cause he knows what I want. No, he doesn't!

Christ, it's hard for me to believe it, but I came here with dad as a little kid, and then when I was older, my brother, Roger, would drive us here. When he went away to college, I'd ride my bike here, never giving a thought about going to another barbershop.

Inside, Sal looks over at me and shakes his head. He's pissed that I've gone over two months between haircuts. Pathetically, that intimidates me and mumble, "Hi Sal, sorry," and gesture with my hands, like...my bad but whaddya gonna do?

I feel like a turd for being intimidated by a friggin' barber. I hate that sometimes I don't know how to act. That fucker, Sal! I'm the client giving him business and helping him earn a living, and yet... oh, forget it! Mickey and I sit as I'm thinking those thoughts, and I guess I have an odd 'look' on my face because Mickey whispers, 'What's wrong?" Shaking my head, I whisper back, "Nothing." And why are we whispering?

Mickey picks up an old copy of 'ESPN The Magazine' and starts turning pages as I'm talking myself into being firm when I explain to Sal what I want for a haircut. And, I'm going to let Mickey get Dominic because Dom is a pussy cat compared to Sal. Dom listens to what you say, and he tries to give the haircut you want. I'll deal with Sal myself. I'm telling him right off that I want a regular haircut, Sal, but not a 'boy's special,' and do NOT use the clippers on the sides! Then I'll remind him calmly, sort of in a light-hearted manner, that I'm an adult now and I want an adult's haircut.

I'm going over this in my mind when Mickey taps my arm and whispers, "Please, tell me what to say when I get in the chair." I whisper, "It's simple. Tell him you want a regular medium-length haircut. He'll know what you mean. I'm letting you get the fat barber because he pays attention to what guys want." Mickey nods, mumbling, "Thanks, Burke."

Both Sal and Dominic finish at the same time, and after the two customers pay, the young boys climb up into the barber chairs. The mother stands up and, smiling, nervously says, "Summer cuts for the boys, please." Sal intimidates even mothers. He says, "We'll do burr haircut for them. Dom, that little fellow our special Sal's burr haircut for the summer." The little kid is sitting on a board across the arms of the barber chair while the older boy goes, "Nah, uh-uh! I don't want a burr haircut! Mom, tell him!" She says, "Sal knows best, Robert. Please, shut up." Delightful.

As the clippers buzz and hair falls off the boys' heads, Mickey looks at me like... what the fuck? I whisper, "Don't look. Just tell the fat barber what I said." The phone on the wall rings and Sal answers it. I hear him say, "If you come over right now, you'll only need to wait a minute or two." Liar.

Then, because of the phone call, Dominic finishes the little boy's burr haircut first, and I nudge Mickey, who stands up tentatively. Dominic is shaking the barber cape, and I motion with my head for Mickey to go over and sit in the chair. He does that, and Dominic spreads a barber cape over Mickey while saying in broken English, "You no come for long time, eh?" Mickey looks frightened as he glances at me. Dominic chuckles and pats Mickey's shoulder. I nod my head encouragingly at Mickey, and he tells Dominic what I told him to say. Dominic nods, "Okay, boss, you got it." Dominic's about sixty years old and so fat he can barely walk, but he's a good guy.

I turn my attention to Sal with his pencil-thin mustache and longish unruly thick pitch-black hair. When he finishes butchering the boy's burr haircut, there's a serious 'puss' on that almost bald kid when he gets out of the chair. He stalks out of the barbershop as his mother is like, "Robert! Where ya going?" Outside, Robert kicks a parking meter as the mother pays for the haircuts and then gives each barber a dollar tip.

I'm standing, waiting for the money transaction to be completed, and then Sal gruffly says, "What are you standing there for, Matthew? Get in the chair." I sit, and he spreads the barber cape over me. Okay, I'm waiting to be chastized for how long it's been since I was last here. Get that out of the way before I tell him my rehearsed instructions for this haircut. Sal fools me, though, and doesn't say anything about me not showing up for over two months. He doesn't say a word about my unruly long hair. He merely turns the clippers on and runs the clippers up my head, and a large bunch of my hair hits the cape, and it's too late to tell him anything. That first 'clipper run' dictated my choices of a haircut, which is to say, I don't have any. Sal proceeds to give me a 'boys'-special' haircut like I've been getting since I was six years old.

I'm quickly resigned to it. My excuse to myself for accepting this inappropriate haircut is he never gave me a chance to tell him what I wanted. Sal outsmarted me, and that is nothing new. Dominic finishes Mickey's haircut first and, Omigod, Mickey looks so different and so much better. His haircut is a longish-version of a 'regular' haircut, but the hair at the front is too long for a pompadour like Jello has. Mickey looks good, though.

Sal is finishing up on my haircut, and I'm looking at it in the mirror that goes along the side of the barbershop's counters where clippers and whatnot hang from. My haircut is the opposite of Mickey's in that my hair is too short for a pompadour like Jello has. My hair is barely long enough to comb, and the hair at the crown is so short it won't lie down. The hairs in front are just long enough to comb over to the side. It's so short on the sides my ears appear to be sticking out like Mickey's. Yeah, this haircut blows!

Finishing up, Sal uses a hundred-year-old smelly-brush to brush around my neck and across my face, saying, "A little shorter than regular for the summer, Matthew." I mumble, "Thanks, Sal," as I get off the barber chair. Mickey's frowning, but he doesn't say anything; what can he say? As we pay, I'm like a defeated loser giving Sal a two dollar tip as if he did a good job and deserved a tip. He says, "Don't be such a stranger, Matthew." I go, "I won't, it's just that last, this past um..." I don't finish that thought because a man with an old fashion flattop that needs cutting comes in, saying, "Yo, Sal. Sorry, I got held up." There isn't another customer, so Dominic sits in his barber chair and lights a cigarette as Mickey and I leave.

Outside, Mickey asks, "What'd you tell that old barber you wanted?" Shrugging, I go, "Nothing, he didn't give me a chance. Nevermind this butchered haircut of mine, how do you like your haircut?" Mickey gives me a big smile, saying, "I love it," and he rubs his fingers in the hair at the back of his head, repeating, "Love it!"

Well, good, fifty-percent satisfaction between us two. I'm pissed, but I don't know how I could have avoided this. Sal's programed to outsmart me and, I don't know, I fucked up, I guess. Mickey pats my shoulder, saying, "You're upset; I can tell." I go, "Nah, it's the haircut I always get. I like really short hair." He looks dubious, mumbling, "If you say so."

In the car, Mickey won't stop looking at himself in the rearview mirror and telling me how happy he is with his first haircut." He goes, "If it weren't for you, Burke, I may never have gone to a barber." I go, "It's no big deal, dude." He goes on, "I feel so, um, like a normal guy now. Thank you! Seriously, thank you, Burke, you're the best!" I mumble, "Christ, we're being weird again, Mickey." In this case, he is.

I wait for an opening in the traffic and then pull away, saying, "Well, how about if we try fucking with me being the 'top'?" Mickey's a lot less enthusiastic all of a sudden, saying, "If you want to, sure. But, as I said a while ago, we should do what we've had success with to get back on the right path. We were doing really good until I screwed up, why not do something we know works?" I go, "In other words, you want to be 'the guy' doing the guy's part." He nods, "Yeah, uh-huh. Don't you agree we know that works?" I mutter, "Yeah, okay," and a minute later, I mutter, "We should have gone to Sport Clips." He says, "We'll do that next time, okay?" He pulls the rearview mirror over again and checks himself out, mumbling, "Christ, why did I go this long before going to a barber? I really enjoyed the whole experience." Uh-huh.

So, I'll be the pussy boy again. Hmm, the thing is, I like being the bottom pussy-boy! I have another thought; maybe I'll firebomb Sal's barbershop. No, that's probably too radical, but I can't get past my failure to do something as simple as telling a barber the haircut I want.

Mickey asks, "What was that?" Oh, haha, I must have been 'talking' my thoughts out loud. I say, "Oh, nothing. Well, the haircut I want is in between the one I got and the one you got. Sport Cuts next time." He mutters, "I kinda like Sal's barbershop." Ignoring that, I mumble, "Yeah, I'll try a lady barber next time." Glancing at Mickey's haircut, I think it's still too long, although I admit it's Grand Canyon size improvement over what it was.

At my house, we have Cokes, and I make grilled cheese sandwiches. I left my work-lunch in my locker for tomorrow. Mickey won't stop babbling about his haircut, which, in a way, is good because we're talking more now. A different subject might be better, but our improved communication is encouraging. Seriously, Mickey and I are good for one another. It's almost comical. Without trying to, we're helping each other move closer to a 'normal' rating for nineteen-year-olds. We're up from thirteen to maybe fifteen-year-olds.

Finished eating our grilled cheese snack, we go to my bedroom and start getting undressed as Mickey asks, "Your ass is okay, right?" I go, "No, it's good, and I'm anxious to do this." He mutters, Me too." As usual, Mickey's naked before me so I nod at the corner of the mattress where I store my condoms, and he lifts the mattress and then takes out three condoms, mumbling, "We'll need one of these for maybe trying again with me the 'pussy boy' after I do a number on my pussy boy's ass."

He means after he fucks me twice, and you know what? I'm good with that. I'm antsy to do it, actually." I know, maybe a month from now, or something like that, this will be more routine. Still great, of course, but I won't be almost climbing the walls anxious to feel Mickey's cock up my ass, him pounding away. Now, that is exactly the situation, though, as I'm so anxious, I can barely wait for it.

Mickey is just as anxious, so we don't even get in bed. I'm leaning over, my hands on the side of the mattress, sticking my ass out while Mickey's fucking around getting the condom packet open. I almost say... c'mon, Mickey, let's go! I don't say that, though. I turn my head to watch him stroking his cock a few times before he asks, "Would you suck it for me? It'll get hard faster." Turning around quickly, I bend over and grab his cock, put it in my mouth, and suck on the head as I stroke the shaft with two fingers and my thumb. Thirty seconds later, he's going, "Umm, mm, oooh, oh yeah!" I'm slobbering all over his cock, spit running down my chin, and my cock gets hard faster than his. Yeah, this turns me on, this cock sucking.

I'm licking his hard cock from his shaved balls to the head and then sucking on the head, doing it until Mickey gently pushes my head away, murmuring, "You better stop, or I'll cum." Reluctantly, I let his boner slip out of my mouth and mumble, "Yeah, well, I really like doing this." Taking a deep breath, Mickey's rolling the condom onto his long-looking boner, then nods his head at me, indicating I should turn around. Muttering, "Oh, yeah," I do that and then bend over, my hands on the mattress as MIckey goes, "Bend your legs a little so I can reach that pussy of yours." We both snicker as I do what I'm told. I need to lower my ass because he's shorter than me.

Looking back at Mickey... oh man, his boner is so hard it's sticking straight out, all six-plus inches of it. I wanna measure that boner of his 'cause it might reach the seven-inch mark. Mickey moans, "Mmmm, oooh," and his cock hasn't even touched my ass yet. We're both stupidly hot to do this, and then his cock aggressively does touch my ass, pushing against my asshole, and I'm like, "Ow, fuck, that hurts..." quickly adding, "No, don't stop, keep going..." I grit my teeth as Mickey pushes on the head harder, and it pops inside. He goes, "Ahhh..." A spray of red color flashes in my head as the pain blossoms while, at the same time, I feel Mickey shudder and move his feet as he again quietly moans, "Aaaah, oooh..."

Wanting to experience more of the sexual pleasure coming off his boner, Mickey pushes this boner tightly but smoothly, all the way in my ass until his shaved crotch hits my butt cheeks, then he humps it in even tighter, very tightly and humps again as he's making a hissing sound letting air out between his teeth. The sensations must be awesome for him. As for me, it hurts like hell but feels good at the same time.

It's not painful for long before there's like a neutral period of no pain or pleasure for ten seconds or so, and then there's a noticeable vibrating pleasure coming from my prostate as it begins pulsing, and I go, "Ahh..." Next, here comes a rush of pleasure, making me shiver. Mickey is pulling his boner back, his long, incredibly hard boner, and my shoulders shudder. When he shoves it right back up my ass, I go, "Mmmm, ooooh, fuck yeah, Mickey!" He's feeling 'it' too as he slaps my ass and immediately gets a steady thrusting going, and it's, "Slap, slap, slap," sounds. And, oh yeah, along with the 'slap-slap' sound are waves of pleasure sweeping over me, making my back arch as my head goes back. Hot-shit, Mickey's getting better at this each time he does it, and I can hardly believe how good this feels now.

Getting more and more comfortable with his 'topping', Mickey slaps my ass again, grips my hips with both hands, and drives his cock in my ass quicker and harder as he breathes noisily, the thrusting not only quicker but rhymic now too. I do believe he's got it going about as good as Mark or Bobby, and, oh, man, I want this to last.

The "Slap, slap, slap," sounds are so cool, but my climax is building ridiculously fast. Too quickly, I find myself right at the tipping point of a monstrous climax and gasp, "Ahh, Mick... ahh," and then an explosion of pleasure with cum shooting straight out from my hard-as-steel cock. My eyes spastically blink, my brain still getting used to this level of pleasure, impossibly fabulous sensations, too many to handle, almost. The thing is though, I'm bending over, so my boner is parallel with my stomach, and the spray from that first semen blast flying past wets my chin before arching up to come down 'splat' on my pillow. Not that I care, and I should have seen that happening. Mostly, I'm shaking as the flow of pleasure covers me from the roots of the hair that's left on my head, to my feet, making my toes curl. It's an indescribably delicious sensation. Still unique to me, although I can't imagine ever taking it for granted no matter how often I do this.

Savoring every bit of that climax, unable to catch my breath yet, Mickey yanks on my hips, humps against my ass, and makes a scary sound as, I suppose, he's climaxing now. He bumps against my ass, moaning weakly, "Oooooh, umm." He takes a staggering step back, pulling his cock from my ass, and the cool air-conditioned air of the room flies into my opened-up asshole creating a weird sensation as I'm still pulling tightly on my cock, my eyes squeezed closed, as "Mmmmm," comes from my throat. That was awesome!

As those fantastic sensations drift off, I'm shaking my head, a little dizzy. Straightening up, I turn around to see Mickey sitting on the desk chair with his dick in his hand, looking dazed. The used condom is hanging half in and half out of the little trash can next to the desk. Mickey slowly looks up at me and snorts out a chuckle, then says, "Holy shit, that felt better than the other times. Do ya think it'll get better each time we do it?" Letting go of my cock, I mutter, "Hard to imagine, but I can hardly wait to do it again and find out."

With sensations quieting down in my body, I take a deep breath and go, "Goddamn, you're really good at this, MIckey! Can you believe we've been missing out on fucking for years?" He grips his cock tighter, making a 'face,' as he mutters, "That sucks, but thank God, we're doing it now, Burke. That felt so good..." I go over to him and put my hand on his shoulder, asking, "How would you describe climaxing? The pure pleasure of it leaves me speechless. It's something so new... I mean, forget about climaxing after jerking-off, this is something totally different." Standing up, he shrugs, "I can't describe it. Do you think it's just us having some freaky Guinness Book of World Records sex, or does everyone almost have a heart attack 'cause it feels so good?"

Hmm, I'm thinking how great it felt with Mark and Bobby too, and mumble, "I'm not sure. The other three times, I was the pussy-boy bottom like I am for you, so I know it's fairly spectacular all the time, but this is not blowing smoke up your ass when I say you're the best 'top' for me. You're better than those other guys, seriously!" He looks at me, "Thanks, but you're just saying that to be nice."

I don't accept compliments very well, either. Guys like Mickey and me don't believe we deserve compliments. We've gotta change that 'loser' mentality. To keep from getting too maudlin, I run my fingers through his newly quaffed hair, saying, "And you've got a better haircut than those guys too." He makes a 'face,' chuckling and mumbling, "I can almost believe that part."

Patting his shoulder, I say, "Seriously, Mickey, you're the best 'top' so far in my life. No bullshit, you are, and I think that's because we're boyfriends, and I mean more to you and you to me than the other two guys I had sex with." He says, "Okay, thank you! No one could possibly try harder to make you happy than me." Shrugging, I mumble, "Me too, Mickey. We're a good match."

Standing, he grins, saying, "I liked smacking your ass too, spanking you is cool. Heh, heh, do you mind me doing that? It just happens without me thinking I'm gonna do it." Smirking, I go, "Well, if I don't like it, I can always kick the shit out of your skinny ass. That'll be your clue I'm displeased." He smacks my ass and says, "I'm tougher than you think. Dancers are in better shape than most athletes." I'm like, "It is okay if I kiss you?" He nods and lifts his face, and we kiss." I say, "I'm becoming very fond of you."

Patting my ass, instead of smacking it, he says, "I can tell you really do like me, although I'm having a hard time believing it. It's something brand new for me." Trying to lighten things up, I go, "That's because I'm the first guy you've had sex with. The next guy you fuck will fall under your sexual spell as I have." Picking up on my joking manner, which is also a new 'thing,' he goes, "Oh, I don't doubt that. Um, I'm not bragging, but did the two guys who bopped you have a cock like mine? I doubt it!" I go, "Omigod, no, your's is better. Yours is longer than this one guy's cock and definitely heftier. It's nicer looking too, yours is." He mutters, "Really? Yeah, well, thanks." I go, "You realize, of course, that we're back to our young teen conversation." He goes, "Well, that's because neither of us had a chance to have this type of conversation when we were young teens." I mutter, "Still, it's embarrassing at our age."

We walk down the hall to the bathroom and wash up a little, and then Mickey picks up the Nair bottle, and we both chuckle and rub our junk. He puts the bottle back where he got it, and I'm like, "Seriously, all kidding aside, I really like this feel down here, the 'hairless' feel. And, let me tell you, sucking your dick without pubes tickling my nose or getting in my mouth is way better." He nods and says, "If I wash the stuff from the condom off my dick, would you blow me again?" I mutter, "Pushy," and he goes, "No, I don't mean right this minute, but in a half-hour or so." Shrugging, I go, "If you really mean it, sure. You're my 'lead' boyfriend, so I'll do what you say, but do you mean you want me to suck you off until you cum in my mouth, or just to get you hard?"

He's getting a washcloth from the cabinet under the sink, saying, "Sorry if this sounds, um, pushy, as you said, but I meant suck me off all the way 'cause that's an incredible feeling. I can't explain in words the powerful feeling I have cumming in your mouth. It's something I never even fantasized I'd ever have the chance to do with anyone, nevermind someone special like you." Nodding, I mumble, "No problem," but I'm wondering if I should tell him what a 'high' I get from him 'cumming' in my mouth. No, it might seem as though I'm trying a 'one-up' on him. Grinning, he chuckles and adds, "Then later this afternoon you can suck my dick just to get me hard and, as your reward, I'll fuck you one more time before you need to drive me home. I have dinner at six..."

I'm nodding again, but not sure how much of what he said was said jokingly, tongue-in-cheek, and I'm not going to ask. Anyway, that ballsy 'reward' comment of his gave my dick a jolt. It was sort of a turn-on, and I don't know why. In case Mickey was half-joking, I snicker, and then I go, "Sure, but what about you sucking my dick? And you being the pussy boy on the bottom." Making a 'face', he says, "You were supposed to laugh when I said that thing about 'your reward.'"

He wets the washcloth as I shrug, saying, "Hey, I got the joke. Didn't you hear me snicker? Anyway, how about you trying to be the 'bottom' boy again?" He takes a deep breath, and looks sincere, saying, "I really want to, Burke. I really do, but would it be alright with you if we put that off until tomorrow?"

Ya know, I'm pretty sure many guys in the position I find myself in would take offense at this buddy-sex thingie being too one-sided. Mark broke up with that early fuck buddy of his for that very reason. With Mickey and me, it's been one-sided so far, except I don't find it a problem so far because I like sucking Mickey's cock, and I like being his pussy boy bottom. And, of course, I wanna try the other position, but not enough to make waves and possibly screw-up what we've got going here. We're both new at this, and I'm okay with what we're doing. Plus, his ass might be one that can't take a cock, and it's not his fault. I'm not letting that situation split us up. Nope, Mickey and I aren't splitting up over the one-sided technicality. We're doing sex regularly, and for now, that's good enough for me... and obviously, it is for Mickey too.

This one-minute interlude from when Mickey asked about delaying his attempt as the pussy boy bottom would perplex most guys, but not us. We're used to these silent periods that give us time to think of the right thing to say. Why blurt something out if you don't have to? Not that we always think of the right thing to say anyway.

Wiping off his cock with the washcloth, Mickey looks at me, asking, "Well, um, whaddya say, Burke? Is it okay with you if I try to be the 'pussy' tomorrow?" I nod, "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. We're a team, dude, I assumed you knew it would be okay with me. And, anyway, you're the lead boyfriend."

He chuckles and goes, "Haha, I forgot I'm the boss. Seriously though, I promise to try it tomorrow three or four times if need be. I'll bring a stick to bite on, ya know, for the pain." We both grin, but I'm thinking if, hypothetically, he's never able to be the 'bottom', is that gonna be okay with me? I don't know because, it's like, I really do wanna be the 'top' but, even long-term I can't conceive of Mickey and I splitting up over it. I just can't. And, you know what? I'm optimistic it'll work if we keep trying.

The other thing to think about is the fact I've had sex with three guys now, three exceptional guys, and none of the three have let me be the 'top.' Is it something I'm doing wrong? I can't imagine what that would be, except maybe I'm acting too anxious, or too willing to do the pussy part. If so, what's wrong with that if I like it, which I do? Hmm, whatever. No problem for now, and Mickey is willing to keep trying, and if I'm patient, it'll work eventually, and I'll see what I'm missing if anything.

In my bedroom, we get under the covers and lie next to each other, not talking again. That's normal for us, and anyway, we've done a lot of talking today. I'm almost dozing off when Mickey says, "I'm sorry about your haircut, Mattie. You predicted whatshisname would fuck it up, but you still let me go to the other barber. That was nice of you." I go, "Well, you're my boyfriend, and you've never been to a barber before, so..." He mumbles, "Still, that was really, really nice of you." I'm feeling the bristles on my head, muttering, "Sal got me worse than he usually does. I think he was pissed I went like ten-weeks between haircuts." Mickey mutters, "What an asshole that guy is."

We're quiet again until Mickey asks, "Do you believe in flying saucers?" Huh? I go, "Whaddaya mean?" He shrugs, "Aliens are something I'm kinda interested in." I go, "Jeez, I haven't thought much about, um, them. I don't know, though, do you believe that extraterrestrials have visited earth?" He says, "Not really, but it is odd there have been no nibbles from out there, from outer space. I mean, considering SETI been around for quite a while now." I'm like, "SETI? What's that?" He goes, "It's a system of, I guess some kind of radar detection devices monitoring electromagnetic radiation for a message from outer space." I go, "Oh, that SETI." He mumbles, "Searching for intelligent life from among the stars, ya know? A civilization likes ours, or way more advanced most likely."

Huh, yeah, I have heard of that, obviously. It was those letters SETI that threw me off. I go, "What makes anyone think they'll be like us?" Mickey's like, "Do you really wanna go into it?" Shrugging, I say, "Just start out, and I'll decide if, um, I wanna hear more about it," and we both snicker. It's as though I'm the moron, and he's the genius. He says, "Well, you know intelligence equates to technology, right?" I mumble, "That's one way of putting it, I suppose." He says, "Without technology, how the fuck are they going to signal us?" Shrugging, I'm like, "I don't know."

After a minute, he says, "Okay, there are unchallenged assumptions about intelligence inferring technology. We assume Aliens would evolve technologically along the same lines as we did. Basically, that is born out of anthropomorphism colored by bias, and perpetrated by the arrogance of human hubris... haha." I go, "Obviously," and we both snicker again. Then I go, "Anything else?" He shrugs, "Only that popular belief about alien civilizations are built mostly by taking the best parts of our humanity and extrapolating those features as being what aliens should be like. Pure nonsense, right?" I mumble, "Perhaps, but then perhaps not." He grins, "Yep that covers it pretty well." I'm like, "The next time I insist you explain something, don't do it, okay?" He goes, "Okay.'

I roll over against him and say, "You're pretty smart, huh?" He shakes his head, "No, not really. I read and remember stuff, but mostly what I remember is worthless without a lot more education about, um, whatever I'm reading about," and, looking serious, he changes the subject, asking, "Do you think most gay boyfriends kiss a lot? I mean, I like kissing you, but I'm worried that kissing is too girlie?" Taking a deep breath, I say, "I can confidently say I have no idea," and we both snicker again. Then I add, "No, that was a joke. I've seen lots of gay guys making out on gay sites, and there's a lot of it on YouTube as well so, we, as legitimate boyfriends, should probably be doing more kissing." He goes, "Good," and we make out for a while, both of us again springing a hard boner.

Both our faces are red after ten minutes of exuberantly making out, making out that was borderline wrestling. I can't imagine, in my past fantasies, why I thought a guy needed to be super cute for me to enjoy making out with him. That was dumb because now I don't want to make out with anyone other than Mickey, no matter how cute he is. I want to make out with non-cute Mickey Miller.

Mickey stops to catch his breath and then says, "Would you blow me now?" and he nods at his lower extremities as if I didn't know where his dick was. I'm like, "Oh, now ya mean?" He nods, "Yeah, if you'd be so nice." I nod, mumbling, "My pleasure, boyfriend," and then I get to it.

This time I lick all around his shaved groin and then his nuts before I even touch his dick. It's insane how excited and aroused I get from doing this. My only disappointment is how fast Mickey cums. It's like two minutes after I finally take his cock into my mouth that he makes a garbled strangling sound, humps his hips, and a hard stream of cum fills my mouth. This time I gulp it all down, and after swallowing, I suck his cock until he says, "Don't, Burke, it's getting sore." I shimmy up the mattress until I'm alongside, and say, " You've gotta suck me off now. My nuts hurt."

Without saying anything and without hesitating, he nods and goes under the covers to do an awkward job of it. There were some teeth-scraping and too-hard pulling on my dick but nevermind that, I blew out a load as fast as he did and, as good as it felt, the sense of relief I felt was even better. Yeah, I got aroused like mad when sucking him off, and that caused a 'blue-balls' situation of needing to cum wicked bad, and when you need to cum, really need to but just can't get over the hump, that can drive a person to distraction. Inexperienced or not, Mickey's mouth quickly did the trick for me. His warm wet mouth, for sure, but it was also the arousal of me knowing it was Mickey's mouth that caused my orgasm almost as much as the blowjob itself. I pictured, in my head, seeing my cock in Mickey's mouth, and it was like POW! Super arousing!

He pokes his head out of the cover, and, with some of my cum on his lips, he goes, "Jesus Christ, you're the best, Mattie. You did an awesome blowjob for me, and then I didn't do it nearly as good, but you blew your load anyway." I'm like, "Isn't it a wild turn-on sucking dick?" He shakes his head, looking confused, "Do you mean when I'm sucking your dick?" I go, "Yeah!" He goes, "Well, no offense, but no, not really. I sucked your dick because you did mine, but I can't say I was turned on by having your penis in my mouth."

Well, what the fuck? I must be some kind of a pervert. I drop that subject and ask something totally different, "What do you think your dad will say about your haircut?" That question popped into my head because it's startling every time I look at Mickey. He looks so different, so much better! He goes, "Oh, I told dad I was doing it, and he said he wanted to pay for it. He gave me twenty dollars." Heh, heh, yeah, I guess so.

We're lying here contentedly, not talking, and I have another thought. It's that after seeing Mark at the softball game, my memory of him and me makes me realize how fascinatingly similar the two times I was with Mark's and what Mickey and I are experiencing. I mean, blowing my load from making out, right down to Mark's sex-buddy who couldn't handle a cock in his ass, and other similar things I can't remember right now, but similar things to what's happening between Mickey and me. It's a coincidence of similar experiences.

That was in our early 'dates' while now, of course, Mickey and I are moving past anything Mark and I did together. Some similarities, but what I do with Mickey is better, for real, although I can't pretend I don't wish both Bobby and Mark could do 'it' again with me. As I say that, I know I'm not going to break the rule Mickey has because he's more important than having buddy sex with the other two. Still, there's nothing wrong with variety as long as both buddies agree, which Mickey doesn't. Just saying, IF he was okay with it, ya know?

Putting those thoughts out of my mind for another time, I ask Mickey, "Are you close with your dad?" He's like, "Well, family-wise we're all we have; just each other and my brother, of course, although he's out of town. Just each other at home, and I think Dad partially blames me for my mom's, um, suicide." I mutter, "What little you've told me about that, I can't imagine why your dad would blame you." He shrugs, "Maybe I'm paranoid, but mom seemed fine until I was a baby. I don't know."

I'm not one to pry, but I feel I should say something more about that, you know, so he doesn't think I'm not interested. I ask, "So, your dad is still morning your mom's passing after all these years?" He goes, "Oh, not really. For the past four years, dad's had a girlfriend who spends some nights at the house like on a Saturday night, sometimes Friday night. I hate that 'cause it's so unbelievably awkward for me in the mornings. I don't want to stay in my room because that would be dissing dad, and I guess Carmen as well." I go, "Her name is Carmen?" He shugs, and mutters, "Yeah, strange name, huh?"

For something to say, I go, "Ya don't hear that name much." He goes, "It's her name, Carmen Tallman. I guess she's alright. I heard them talking about her moving in with dad, but he told her not until I go away to college." I ask, "Where ya going?" He says, "Drexel University in Philly. It's known as excellent for students with an engineering major, and I'm going for an electrical engineering degree." I go, "Oh, uh-huh." Jesus, what's that?

We get out of bed and put on our shorts to get something to drink. I offer a beer since there is a case in the pantry from which I'm could replace any we take from the refrigerator. Mickey doesn't want booze though, so that's good as I've never taken one of my dad's after-work beers. We both have a Coke and some Cape Cod potato chips talking about high school and the times we saw each other there, but never connected. I'm looking into Mickey's eyes as we talk, and it is easier for me to do with him, although not with just anyone. His eyes with the big black pupils and the very dark-blue ring around the pupils are very cool. He has the narrowest irises I've ever seen on anyone, not that I'm an expert since I usually avoid looking into eyes.

Finished our sodas, Mickey says, "It's getting late." I look at the clock on the kitchen wall and see it's five-fifteen. Hmm, I mutter, "Yeah, but it's usually around six o'clock before mom or dad get home. Patting my ass, he says, "Okay, I see I've gotta fuck you one more time this afternoon, and then I need to get going. Dad and I eat at six, as I mentioned."

I ask, "In my bedroom?" and he puts his Coke can down and, with a smirk on his face, he pulls my pants down, mumbling, "Let's do it in here for a change. Lean over the kitchen table," and he smacks my bare ass, "SMACK!"

I go, "Ow!" and turn around to put my hands on the table. Mickey pulls down his zipper, muttering, "I'll get us both 'off' fast." Looking back, I see him pulling his penis out through the zipper, and then he goes, "Oh, crap, I left the second condom in the bedroom." I mumble, "The third one is next to it, but isn't there enough lube from the earlier fuck?" He goes, "Yeah, probably," and I'm like, "Don't use a condom this time."

Before I even finished saying that, Mickey's rubbing his long cock against my buttocks. He murmurs, "You're right; this is even sexier, Burke." I mutter, "Yeah, bareback." He's stroking his cock now, and it's looking pretty tight already, but, just to show I'm willing to help, I go, "Do you want me to suck it for you again, Mickey?" Shaking his head, he mumbles, "No, not necessary," and he plugs the head in my asshole. I go, "Awk," and grit my teeth. It didn't hurt much 'cause my ass is still limber from the earlier sex.

Gee, the confidence Mickey shows now as compared to the first time we had sex is unbelievable. He's almost blase as he puts a hand on my back and thrusts his hips driving his four inches of hard penis inside me. My back arches as he mutters, "Don't jerk around, okay?" Then he casually shoves the rest of his hard as a rock boner in. It feels fantastic! The pain of that too-fast entry is in the background, and, as pleasure-sensations soar, I moan, "Um, oh, Mickey. Aaah, nice. Feels good, yeah..." He smacks my ass, mumbling, "Can you push your ass out more?" and when I do that, he grabs my hips and fucks me hard and fast. Excellent fuck, and he has the cock for the job, for sure.

Oh, jeez, this is the best one yet. We fuck for almost ten minutes before he's tightly against my butt cheeks, grunting and shooting his load into my bowels as I make a quick screeching sound, ds as my load blows out across the kitchen table. Christ, I'm trembling after that intense climax. Mickey groans, "Oh, oh, man." He backs up, pulling his cock out, and takes a couple of deep breaths as if he just did the fifty-yard dash, he smacks my ass again and then puts his cock back in his pants. Its job is done.

I'm still leaning over the kitchen table feeling some buzzing-after-effects of that orgasm Mickey just fucked out of me. Jesus, can I believe this? Mickey pulls my pants up and pats my ass and holds his hand there. I feel his cum drooling out and soaking into my underpants. I love that gooey feeling! Hell, I love everything about what we've been doing.

Turning around, I'm like, "You're, um, you're amazing! That was awesome, Mickey, jeez, dude! You're really special." Still holding his hand against my ass, he says, "I'm a different person when I'm with you, Burke. It's so good, such a good feeling too. For me, I mean. You're the special one... special to me."

His hand is still on my ass, so chuckling, I mutter, "Has it soaked through my shorts yet? Your cum?" He grins, "That's what I'm waiting for, but maybe I didn't have a big enough load after three or four climaxes. This is the most fun!" Man, he fucks fantastic, and he looks much cooler too. I mean, now that he got that haircut. As I ruffle his blond hair, I go, "And we didn't need to use all the rubbers." He squeezes my ass and takes his hand away, mumbling, "There's always tomorrow. C'mon though, I need to go."

I'm feeling my ass to see if there's a wet cum-spot as we walk out the front door with Mickey saying, "That's the best afternoon I've ever had," and then at the car, before getting in, standing next to the open passenger door, he says, "I want to kiss you 'goodbye' here. I mean when we get in the car. We can't do it in front of my house because of the neighbors' prying eyes."

We get in the car, and he leans over. We kiss the lips, and then Mickey says, "Don't freak out, and you don't need to say anything at all. Well, in fact, I hope you don't, but I'm in love with you. I just wanted you to know, in case you couldn't tell." Recalling my bone-headed move saying that to Mark, I murmur, "I gotta say something, and it's that I'm not sure either of us knows if we're in love or not. I mean, due to a lack of experience with that, um, emotion, but for now, I'll say I am too." He nods his head, mutters, "Good, thanks," and I drive us away.

At his house, we bump fists as Mickey asks, "Tomorrow?" I nod, "Definitely; I'll be here to pick you up. You're awesome, Mickey. I'll bet there aren't too many 'top's as proficient as you are." He shrugs, "I don't know, you really don't think so?" I go, "I can't imagine there sare," and he shakes his head, "Nah, I'll bet millions of nineteen-year-old gay guys would be sexually aroused by the likes of you. If they were a 'top' for you, lots of guys would exceed my stamina." I say, "I still maintain that is hard to imagine, and I'm thinking that maybe we haven't yet explored your full potential in that regard. We need to have a sleepover and see how many times you can fuck me when you have the entire night."

He's chuckling as he unbuckles his seat belt, and says, "We've regressed to our tweener years. That's twelve-year-old gay boys' logic. And, embarrassingly, I was just thinking the same thing... we need a sleepover." We're both laughing at ourselves again. Then I mumble, "Well, maybe our parents can arrange a 'play-date' for us."

He gets out, mumbling, "We need to get a grip on ourselves and chill." I mumble, "Ah, don't be a killjoy." He waves, "See ya tomorrow, Burke." I wave back and watch him as he goes up to his front door, and then disappears inside. Driving away, I'm thinking he's a cool guy now, and ten days ago, I thought he was a goofy-looking dork who I had zero interest in. Ha, and now I get a boner just thinking about him, and he's so much better looking with a normal guy's haircut. Perspective is everything.

Waiting for dinner, I'm in my room surfing on youtube when the thought occurs to me... when is Dean going to realize I'm not calling him every day and driving his ass wherever he wants to go?

To be continued... Chapter 10 'Sex Week' donnymumford@outlook.com

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