Beginnings, Part III

The city bus deposited me at the end of Michael’s street. I was glad to get off it; a few young kids sitting in the back decided to share their food by throwing bits of popcorn around the bus. I got pelted at least three times. Evening had already set in and it would be dark soon. As it began to drive away, I looked around in awe at the houses on all sides. They seemed like mansions, towering over my small figure, each house surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns and decorated with shiny new cars. I knew I imagined it, yet I felt the piercing stare of everyone around me, as if they knew I did not belong there. Strictly lower class, from an apartment on the bad side of town, I felt like a beggar on Park Avenue.

Pulling a slip of paper with Michael’s address from my pocket, I double checked the street sign and walked in the direction of his house. Awestruck, I wondered how one could afford these places. Certainly I never could, I thought to myself.

Near the end of the street, I finally reached his home. I looked at its modern, minimalist design of grey stucco, emblematic of fashion and taste. Somehow, it seemed to suit Michael. Two cars sat in the driveway, a white suburban and a green sports car. The latter was most certainly his. I walked to the front door, took a deep breath, and pressed the doorbell. Elaborate chimes echoed through the cavernous home.

In less than a minute, I heard the deadbolt slide and the door opened. Michael Smith stood in front of me, sporting a sleeveless top that accentuated his perfectly defined arms, a pair of gym shorts, and no shoes. I don’t know why but even to this day, I find few things sexier than a man in casual, sporty attire. For this, I blame Michael.

“Hey Jake,” he said with a wide smile. God but he was beautiful.
“Hey.” I replied.

Michael ushered me into his home, reminding me to remove my shoes at the door.

“You should have let me pick you up. The bus takes forever to get here!” he told me as we finished climbing the stairs and walked into his room. Michael followed behind me and, once in the room, he shut the door and pressed the lock. I gulped.

“No, its fine, really. I enjoy the ride. You always see such weird people on the bus.”

Michael laughed at this and, each of us taking a seat on his bed, we shared some chat about all the strange people we had ever seen on the street. I told him about the kids throwing popcorn—he found it hysterical. I returned his laughter with a level stare. He wouldn’t find it so funny if he’d been on that bus… As we continued to talk, my nerves calmed and I began to return to normal. After ten minutes or so, Michael pulled his backpack off of the floor and pulled out a notebook.

“Right… I guess I shouldn’t waste your time here. You probably
have a thousand other things you need to do.”

I cant think of a single one, I thought to myself.

He opened his notes and handed me his story. I began to read it, noticing out of the corner of my eye that he watched me with anticipation. Our assignment was “a love story with a twist.” Mrs. Beal enjoyed cryptic topics.

When I finished reading it, I laid the story in front of me on the bed. I took a breath.

“Well…?” Michael asked. He sounded so nervous, like my approval meant a great deal to him. How odd that he would even care.

“It’s great,” I replied simply.

“No, really, what did you think?”

“Seriously. It’s really good. I don’t know why you even asked me over, ‘cause you write brilliantly!”
He blushed a little.

“What about the end? You know, right here…”

He reached forward to point at a sentence and his hand brushed against my knee. I gasped slightly; just like in my daydreams, a shock ran through my entire body. My head involuntarily jerked up, ready to meet his beautiful green eyes in a stare. It was all coming true! Instead, I found myself looking at his ear as he kept looking at the paper laying in front of me with a concerned expression. My heart plummeted.

“Well, the ending, it’s a bit rough. But there’s a word limit so it’s expected.” I delivered the answer mechanically. I’m such a fool, I thought angrily. My cheeks began to redden in a quiet embarrassment Michael wasn’t even privy to.

Michael continued to look at the paper, lost in thought, and I began to feel sick to my stomach. How did I ever believe that Michael Smith could be interested in me? He’s far too beautiful for me and so obviously straight! He probably even had a girlfriend! I hated myself for thinking this all meant something. Part of me was so angry, and part of me just wanted to cry. The room felt colder for some reason, and I felt painfully alone. I wrapped my arms around myself.

Michael sat back, obviously satisfied that I was right about the word count. I decided it was time to leave before he realized something was wrong. I pushed myself off his bed and stood up to reach for the door. Michael stared at me, but I couldn’t look at him so I just turned my face away and looked down.

“Hey Jake, you’ve got something in your hair, dude.” He reached over and brushed his hand across the side of my head, just behind my ear.

“There, just a piece of popcorn, probably from those kids” he said, and smiled.

It was gone, but his hand remained where it was. I turned my head to face him and met his green eyes. We paused for a moment, then his hand guided my face down towards his. I opened my lips slightly and met his. Our kiss began so gently, so hesitantly. My head spun, I wondered if I was dreaming this. I felt Michael’s tongue caress my lips, so I opened them to let him in. It was all too much. I broke the kiss, pulling back about two inches, and opened my eyes.

“Is this real?” I asked.

His eyes remained closed, and a smile played across his perfect lips.

“I hope so,” he replied.

With that, I leaned forward and kissed him deeply. I stepped forward, sliding one arm onto the bed and another around his shoulders. As I leaned into him, Michael lay down in a synchronized motion. I found myself on top of him, his arm reached for my shoulder, slid up my arm, and he clasped my hand. Our kiss became more feverish, more passionate.

My free hand began to explore Michael’s body. It was so hard, so powerful. I sported an erection so intense it was painful. In one quick motion, Michael grabbed me around the waist and rolled us both over so he lay on top of me. His tongue dove into my mouth, our bodies pressed against each other, our fingers still entwined. Perfection. My heart was a jackhammer but my mind completely blank, surrendered completely to this moment. My free hand still explored his body, first his chest, down to his waist, and finally I slid it under his gym shorts and made a move towards his dick, ready to feel it in all its—

Michael grabbed me, broke our kiss, and stopped my hand. I opened my eyes, confused, and saw him staring at me with a slightly serious expression.

“No, Jake. I…” he paused.

In an instant, a tidal wave of embarrassment ripped through my entire body. It was just a fluke; I felt the crushing sting of rejection. I had to escape before Michael could figure out the best way to turn me down. I maneuvered out from under him and flung my body off his bed.

“Wait!” he grabbed my arm but I shook him off. Scooping my bag up with one hand, I wrenched open the door to his bedroom and bolted down the stairs. I heard him following me, barely a second behind, but I had to escape before I began to cry. I pulled the front door open and made it to his porch before he grabbed me.

“Jake, wait a second, will you?” His grip was too strong this time; I couldn’t break it.

“What do you want?” I shouted, turning around. I hoped the darkness hid my humiliation.

“I want you to hold on, I want to talk.”
I couldn’t bear hearing rejection. I tried to break free but he was too strong. He grabbed my other arm and held me firmly, inches from him. His eyes stared into me but I couldn’t meet them.
“Look,” he began. He seemed to struggle to find the right words. “It’s just… I just… I want to wait, okay? I like you, but I don’t want things to go too fast. I know it sounds dumb but…”

I finally looked at him.

“You want to wait…?” It amuses me today how the concept of “waiting” never even occurred to me as an option. At eighteen, hormones pretty much run your life. Wait to have sex? I thought he was joking. Then I saw how serious his face looked.

“You mean you like me? You’re not turning me down?”

“What?” Michael’s face broke into a smile. “No, of course not! How could I? Look at yourself!”

He turned me towards the window of his front door. Michael and my reflection stared back, him positioned slightly behind me, the image of a god next to a mortal. Look at myself? I thought. What is there to look at when I’m next to him? I turned back to Michael. The kid was obviously crazy… but he was beautiful so I was willing to overlook that.

“Umm… okay, I guess I can…wait. For a little while, anyway.” I tried to imitate that cocky grin of Ryan’s. It didn’t work.
With that, Michael pulled me up against him. He leaned down and our lips met again. For a long time we stood there under the light of the nighttime sky, kissing silently.

I laid down on my bed that night, ready to go to sleep. My room was quiet except for the sound of the occasional car passing by below and my mother’s light snoring from the next room over. The only illumination came from a street light just outside my dingy window. I thought of Michael. I had refused to let him drive me home, despite his insistence. The last thing I wanted was for him to see where I lived. Worse yet, to try to come inside.

There was no doubt that I had opened Pandora’s box when I first went home with Mark. I wondered if every gay man’s life was like this. I imagined what it would be like having Michael here, right now, holding me. Then I upgraded my fantasy to us both naked. Not romantic, but that was definitely more interesting. My dick started to get hard, so I reached down to stroke it. I felt him touching me, exploring my body while I explored his. My hands ran down his muscular, curved back, and reached his smooth firm ass, grabbing each cheek in turn. He rolled himself on top of me, kissing my neck, nibbling at my shoulder.

My dick reached its full eight and a half inches and I continued to stroke it slowly, savoring the events of my imagination.

In my head, Michael kissed down my chest and spent time licking each nipple gently. I arched my back with the intensity of sensation this caused. He laughed, loving to see me so pleased. He moved down my abs, then used his hands to rub my thighs while licking across my lower body. What a tease.

I began to jerk off harder and faster and reached down to play with my balls while I did it.

Mark kept teasing me, but finally couldn’t stand it anymore. He stuck his tongue at the base of my cock and licked all the way up, then, without breaking contact, sucked my dick into his mouth and deep throated it down to the base. A spasm traveled across my body as the head of my dick went down his throat. He sucked me off like a pro, deep throating me effortlessly. I put my hand on the back of his head and began to move my hips to face fuck him, slowly at first and then with greater speed. He moaned, loving every second of my dick sliding in and out of his mouth. I looked down to watch it all, and met his green eyes staring at me. At that moment, he swallowed my dick whole.

In my bed, I pulled at my dick mercilessly, and moved the fingers of my other hand towards my asshole. I began to finger myself as my fantasy continued.

In my dream, I grabbed both sides of Michael’s head and pulled him up to a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue thrust inside my mouth and he pressed his body against mine. I reached down to grab his dick, a nine inch monster like Mr. Jordan’s, but he batted my hand away and laughed.

“Not tonight, baby. I’m gonna make you cum.”

With that he pushed himself off of me, placed his hand on my chest forcing me down so I couldn’t move, and swallowed my dick in one instant. He continued to suck it, his tongue rubbing all over the bottom. Involuntarily I bucked my hips; I couldn’t stop myself from reacting to the intense sensation of his hot mouth. He loved it, grinding his nose up against my pubic hair.

“Oh Michael…Oh…” I gasped out. “Gonna..cum…!”

His hand moved to the base of my cock and started stroking it while his mouth bobbed up and down at the top. I couldn’t hold back anymore. In my fantasy, I came hard, shot after shot straight into his hungry, waiting mouth. He swallowed every last drop, even licking what leaked out off of his lips.

In my room, my body spasmed as the fantasy took me over the edge. I shot harder than I ever had before, across my abs and chest, some flying onto my face. A bit landed on the wall behind me.
“Shit!” I whispered.

After cleaning myself up, I wondered: if my fantasy was this hot, what will the real thing be like? I fell asleep feeling very satisfied.