Geeks

Oh my gosh ... it looks like Jeremy is going through with it. He is going to try to get our shy, little Mikey boy in the buff! Good luck dude. You might as well try to pet a cobra or get the Pope to celebrate Black Mass. Michael is modest to the point of neurosis. Anyway ... I just don't think it's going to happen.

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I feel myself sucking in air like I'm underwater and breathing through a soda straw. There is this huge, instant stab of panic. Now don't get me wrong, I totally trust Jeremy with my life and I know he would never ever do anything to physically harm me. However, one of his passions in life has been to embarrass the hell out of me and watch me blush. For instance, the last time I spent the night at his place - he stretched Saran wrap across their toilet bowl so that I ended up peeing over half the bathroom and my pajama bottoms. I know ... I probably bring it on myself because I am so body conscious and everything ... shy, in other words. And I swear he is forever trying to get a look at my stuff ... if ya know what I mean. It was only a suspicion until he accidentally 'outed' himself to me - and now I am quite certain he wants to see my wee-willy-wanka. So, as soon as he said he was going to call in that giant favor I owe him ... I felt my bum-hole pucker up like my Mom was waving a thermometer at it. I knew with a certainty what he was going to command of me.

Now ... I guess it is time for some real honesty here, since I am just talking to myself. I suppose ... on some level, some deep, deep underlying, subliminal and totally submerged level ... I kind of want to show him my stuff. 'Oh geeze, there I go. Once I admit that then there is no calling it back.'

I guess I want to have him look at it and say, I dunno, maybe ... "gee Michael, that's some pretty nice stuff there." Or "it's not shrimpy Michael, it's a good, normal sized dick and ya should be proud of it." Okay, okay ... I know that's totally stupid. But the thing is, I realize that I have this shrimpy little dick. That is the reason I'm so modest about my body. I'm sensitive about my little 'button,' as my Mom used to call it. God ... how is that for embarrassment, when yer Mom refers to yer dick as a button. Of course it's bigger now than when she used to see it but not a whole hell of a lot.

And I guess the biggest reason that I kind of want this is because I have this thing for Jeremy ... these feelings. I way more than like him as a friend. Yeah, that's right, I guess I'm not ready to say the 'L' word yet ... but you get the picture.

I find myself looking at him a lot lately. And I don't mean just his naked parts either, although they are definitely fun to look at, and he seems to find excuses to show them. I've been noticing little things about him ... like the exciting way his neck tapers to his shoulders or that cute little 'v' cleft just below his adam's apple. And his 'skin' ... I can't begin to describe the sensations I get from looking at his skin. He has this ... velvety seeming epidermis that just begs me to reach over and stroke it. And ... I know I make fun of those glasses and everything - but if that kid were to get contacts, or something, I think I would melt right off my bones from looking at him. His face is that pretty.

When he strutted his stuff to me Saturday at Potter's field, I felt this sense of panic - because I wanted to see him but I didn't want to admit to myself that I wanted to see him. But later, that night ... lying in bed, his nude body was all I could think about. I cried that night ... I was so confused. He told me he was gay and then part of me wanted to throw my arms up and whoop for joy ... but my secret self crammed all my emotions right back into that little box. And because I wasn't honest with him and wasn't honest with myself ... I was so ashamed. And so it was tears of shame that soaked into my pillow that night. And the tears were also from the aching and longing and desire that some part of me kept wanting to stuff way down deep and bury. Only they didn't stay buried that night. Before I fell asleep I knew for a fact, and admitted to myself, that I was a gay boy too. I am a gay boy and wishful thinking and denial isn't going to change that fact. Either I accept it and get on with life or I know I have years of misery ahead of me. I finally felt some sense of peace when I at last dozed off.

But, that was then ... and this is now. Ya don't shed that automatic panic feeling as easily as a snake sheds its skin. It was going to take real, honest effort on my part to open up. And who, in this world, did I want to open myself too? Stupid question!! It was the boy sitting on the edge of my bed - the one who just grinningly said he was going to call in his giant favor. As if I don't know what that favor is.

"Ahmm" Jeremy clears his throat. "So here's the thing Mic..."

And before he gets any further, I just grab the hem of my t-shirt and pull it up and over my head ... dropping the shirt at my feet. Then I use my toes to push the heels of my Nikes down and kick them off my feet.

Michael is in the process of saying something but then his words just kind of taper off into silence while he watches me ... spellbound. He is just observing me now ... looking kind of mesmerized - this wistful expression on his face. And I swear his eyes are kind of tearing up ... but he never says another single word.

I have dropped my board shorts now and just step out of them. I am standing there in my jockeys and socks and then I tell Jeremy ... "finish for me."

I hear this intake of breath. He doesn't move for a few seconds, just sits there while understanding dawns on him. Then he kinda slides to his knees in front of me and, looking into my face, he reaches down and wraps his hand around my left ankle. I place my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, and raise my foot slightly. Jeremy slides my sock off. I put that foot down and raise the other one. Still looking into my face with this warm smile, this almost glowing expression, he reaches for the other sock and slips that one off as well.

I kind of glance down to my jockeys and then back up to his eyes again. He catches the gesture and places his hands on my hips. That is when he finally lets go of the eye contact and his eyes slowly travel down my chest and then to my belly and finally rests on my groin. I'm sure he sees the bulge. It isn't big, as bulges go, but it is as big as mine ever gets.

Jeremy's hands are shaking a bit now, as they rest there on my hips. I see him biting at his lower lip. That's kind of funny, I'm thinking; here I am - old shy boy himself - and yet I am feeling this sense of peaceful resolve. Jeremy, on the other hand, is breathing like he has giant rubber bands wrapped around his chest. He wets his lips and then lets his hands slide down my hips until they rest at the leg openings of my jockeys. Then he slips his thumbs under the fabric and starts inching my underwear down. When the waistband reaches my pubes, or where my pubes will hopefully be one day, he stops for a second and takes in this long, indrawn breath. He continues tugging at the fabric until I feel the waistband pushing against my engorged dick, forcing it to bend downwards to accommodate the tight elastic. Soon, only the head is covered, and then I feel my dick snap upwards and slap me in the groin ... all three inches of it. Jeremy's breath comes out all in a rush and he is just staring at my dick ... and staring at my dick ... and staring ... 

My underwear hasn't traveled another inch and neither has my Jeremy's eyes ... until he raises his face and looks at me once again. There is a tear on his cheek.

"You're beautiful Michael! You ... are ... so ... beautiful!"

I feel my eyes tearing up big time now. He couldn't have said anything more meaningful to me. He didn't call my dick 'nice' or say it was 'cute' ... he told me I was beautiful. I feel a tear slide down my cheek and I watch it drop onto my sweet Jeremy's cheek. I raise my hands up from his shoulders and cup his angelic face. I pull on him and he, taking the hint, raises up off his haunches and stands before me. Still holding his sweet face, I pull him into me until his ... oh so soft, warm and flawless lips are touching mine ... 

"SLAM" from downstairs, and then "MICHAEL ... Michael are ya home?" 'Son-of-a-bitch ... its SUZZANE.'

I feel myself go into this panic mode. Jeremy, always the fast reacter, pushes me back and says ... "grab yer clothes and run into the bathroom. I'll tell her you're in the shower."

He helps me scoop up my clothes, shoving them into my arms and, with my underwear still at half mast, and my dick at full mast, I run for the bedroom door. Jeremy reaches it a second before I do, pops it open and sticks his head out. Then he opens the door the rest of the way and, grabbing my shoulder, he pushes me out and down the hallway. Jeremy walks over to the railing and looks downstairs. As I am opening the bathroom door I hear him holler ... 

"We're up here Suzzane. Michael's taking a shower."

With the door closed behind me I just drop my clothes in a heap and lean back against the sink. A huge 'whoosh' of air escapes my lungs as I feel my heart pummeling in my chest. Oh my God ... that was so scarey. I don't ever remember being so frightened. Then I recalled how quickly Jeremy had reacted and rushed me out and down the hallway. My sweet Jeremy ... my little hero. I guess this tells me, once again, that he puts my welfare first.

I walk over to the tub and slide the glass shower door open. While starting the water and adjusting the temperature I'm thinking about everything that's transpired in just the last few minutes. I glance down at my dick and I'm still hard as a boulder ... well, a pebble anyway.

When I've adjusted the spray I step inside and slide the door closed. I just enjoy the warmth of the water easing my tensed muscles. A minute later I hear the bathroom door open and then quickly close again. I can see the wavy outline of Jeremy through the shower door as he approaches me. He stops, slides the door open just a bit and sticks his head inside.

"What's Suzzane doing?" I ask him.

"Relax Michael. She's downstairs talking on the phone."

And Jeremy's eyes and lips are smiling at me as he slowly looks me up and down. Had he done this a few days ago, I would have freaked out. I would have been screaming at him to get the hell out and give me my privacy. Now however, I just feel myself smiling back at him, giving him a show.

"So, do ya like what ya see?" I ask him.

"No" he responds, "I love what I see. I absolutely love everything I see right now. And ... right now, I absolutely hate yer stinking sister ... giggle, giggle."

"Yeah" I respond, "she sure has some sense of timing doesn't she."

We are both chuckling now at what had been a frightening experience just a few minutes ago.

"Well, OK" he says. "Guess I'll wait in yer room in case Suzzane wanders upstairs to her bedroom. Don't take forever huh?"

I just nod my head. Jeremy slides the shower door closed and kind of bounces over to the bathroom door, giggling the whole distance. I think my boyo is feeling as light hearted as I am.

I finish my shower, dry off and slip my clothes back on. As I walk past Suzzane's room, heading for my own, I decide to run downstairs first and see what my sister is up to. I want to know that I can have a little alone time with Jeremy in my room without fear of her sticking her nose in the door. As I get to the bottom of the steps I can hear her talking on the kitchen phone. I can tell by her 'Valley Girl' talk that it must be one of her empty-headed cheer leading friends on the other end.

"Oh I know, Tiff" I hear her say, "they say it was some kind of glue in his shampoo bottle."

I freeze on the bottom step when I hear this. She could only be talking about one thing - SAMMY BOY! I turn around and run back upstairs.

"Jeremy" I say, as I stick my head into my bedroom door.

He glances up from reading a comic book on my bed.

"Come down stairs with me. Suzzane is on the phone with a vacuum-head and talking about SAMMY!"

Jeremy bounces off the bed and drops the comic book on his way to the door.

"What's she saying" he asks as we bound our way down the stairs. I just turn back to him and give him a shushing gesture with my finger to my lips. As we approach the kitchen we can hear her end of the conversation.

"They tried" she was saying "and they used everything they could think of to dissolve the glue but nothing worked. I think they made it worse. The top of his head is like this sticky, gooey glob!"

Suzzane's twirling her front lock of hair around a finger in her typical, empty, phone-yakking gesture. She's snapping her gum and looking at us as we saunter casually into the kitchen, pretending hunger. Her ear is glued to the phone receiver the way it normally is. She looks away from us (after all it's just the geeks), and leans over the snack bar, absorbed in her conversation.

Meanwhile I gather the stuff to build a couple of pb & j sandwiches.

"Yeah ... " she giggles. "Like a Ronald McDonald fright wig! And he was so cute too ... I was even thinking about going out with him! Not now though ... because he looks absolutely hideous. I do have a reputation to protect ya know."

Jeremy and I just grin at one another as we listen to this one-sided conversation and whip a couple of sandwiches together. Suzzane's off on another topic now and so I walk to the fridge to grab a jug of milk. Jeremy gets a couple of glasses from the cupboard and, of course, a bag of potato chips. That boy can't eat pb & j without sticking potato chips in his sandwich.

Just then Suzzane's own cell phone begins to ring.

"I'll talk to ya later Tiff, my cell's ringing." And she hangs up the kitchen receiver. She glances down at her caller ID and then puts the phone to her ear. All this while she is leaving the kitchen and heading towards the stairway and her bedroom.

"Yeah, yeah Barb, I know, I was there."

On the stairway now she giggles and says ... 

"He just crammed a baseball cap on his head and slinked out the back door."

Any further conversation is lost as she makes her way to her bedroom. I just look over to Jeremy, he looks at me and then we bust up. Oh my God! Sandwich in one hand, we loop our other arms together and dance around in a circle. Jeremy is singing around a mouthful of sandwich ... 

"Sammy and Suzzane, sitting in a tree, f - u - c - k - i - n - g." And we howl!

"I don't know Jer. I don't think that boy is going to get anywhere near Suz for awhile ... or any other girl for that matter." And we are near collapsing from laughter. Jeremy has to spit his mouthful of sandwich onto the counter so he doesn't choke to death.

I'm watching him and feeling slightly ornery, remembering what he did to me last time we shared sandwiches in Potter's field. He had me spraying bread, pb & j and coke all over the rock ... and himself. Jeremy gets his second wind and takes another bite; I give him a minute and then ... 

"So, Sammy has a Ronald McDonald fright wig now eh?"

Jeremy loses it: he sprays all over the kitchen floor.

"Har ... har ... har." snort, giggle.

We are off and running again. He would laugh and that would set me off and then I would laugh and it would set him off. Finally, Jeremy just holds his sandwich up and says ... 

"We aren't going to get to eat these are we Mic?"

I just shake my head no, grinning like a pig in a pile of poop.

We walk over to the sink and just cram what's left of our sandwiches down the garbage disposal. Jeremy cleans his laughter debris off the floor and counter while I turn on the water and run the disposal. Oh well, the sandwiches were just an excuse to come down to the kitchen and eavesdrop on Suzzane anyway.

Jeremy sticks his hand out towards me and I realize he wants me to slip my hand into it - so I do. He grasps it and gently tugs me towards the stairway. 'Looks like we are going up to myroom. Hmm, what do ya suppose wonder boy has in mind?' We can't do much, not with Suzzane here, but I think I have some unfinished business with Jeremy's lips. And the way he keeps looking back at me, grinning, he is thinking the same thing.

Jeremy opens my door and guides me through it, closing it behind us.

"I think, Michael, that you and I are going to have to invest in some locking door knobs for our bedrooms."

"I think you're right" I grin back at him.

He tugs me over to the bed, turns me by the shoulders and gives me a push. I fall backwards onto the bed, my feet just off the floor. Jeremy sits alongside me, leaning on his right arm while he places his left hand gently on my stomach. He starts making little swirling motions with his hand on my belly. All the while he has this dreamy, happy look on his face as he stares into my eyes. I'm pretty sure that my own face reflects that look. Then I see his eyes tear up all of a sudden and, just that quick, the tears are rolling down his cheeks. His lips are quivering. He lies his head down on my chest, pushes his arms underneath my shoulders and just clings to me real tightly.

Funny how that works. Now my own water works are flowing. I place my left hand in the small of his back and start rubbing him the way he had rubbed my belly. With my right hand I reach over and pull off his glasses, setting them down on the bed away from us. Then I start to caress his cheek and run my fingers through his hair. And all this while I'm crying but making these soft shushing sounds to try and comfort him. His answer is to raise his head and kiss me gently on my cheek. Oh ... that takes my breath away! Then another kiss and another and soon his lips are softly traveling around my face with little kisses. His tears drip on my face as his lips peck their loving route ... leaving no area of my face unkissed. My own tears are running in little rivulets from the edges of my eyes, down my temples and trailing to the back of my neck. Slowly, his tears ease up and he raises his head a little to look into my eyes ... such a sweet, gentle and loving smile. I feel like I'm hovering above the mattress. He's looking at me like I'm the most important and loved thing in his life. And I just wrap my arms around him and then I wrap my heart around him and hold him close. He lowers his lips on top of mine and we, slowly, practice that age old lover's routine of the tongue stroll. Our tongues do the Samba and then the Tango and then a bitter-sweet waltz. I suck his tongue like a miniature dick and he shoves his tongue deep into my mouth as though he's trying to burst my hymen.

By now Jeremy is laying on top of me and my hands are exploring his shoulders, his arms, his back ... his sweet butt. I take a double hand full of those wondrous boy cheeks and squeeze them, pulling him hard against me. Jeremy's groin crushes against my own and he starts spastically twitching his hips back and forth. He pulls away from my lips and presses his cheek against my own and I hear him wheezing, moaning in my ear. He makes four or five groin thrusts against me and then he starts shaking and groaning into my ear ... 

"Oh my God, Michael ... oh, Michael ... ohh ... ohh ... oh!" And then my sweet boy just reposes there, his tensed muscles slowly relaxing - his breathing returning to normal. I knew what had just taken place. Sexual neophyte that I am, I recognized his orgasm. I just continue to hold him close and rub his back and shoulders. I feel so mellow and complete because I caused this thing for him. I gave him this immense pleasure and that, in itself, gave me such immense pleasure in return. My right hand goes back to playing with his hair and stroking his cheek. Whenever my hand gets close to his mouth he reaches over and kisses my fingers.

All this and, aside from his orgasm, not a word has passed either of our lips. We've been busy speaking a much older and concise language: it is a body language that doesn't need any interpretation because it's communication on the most basic of levels ... it's the language of eros. And, without a single language lesson, we're able to converse just fine. What we don't know ... doesn't matter. We don't feel as though we're missing anything. In fact the whole world is complete. I'm not feeling the need of an orgasm of my own. We had just shared our first together and it didn't matter that it was Jeremy's and not mine ... it was ours. Sammy could burst into that room and stab us both to death right now and it wouldn't matter a bit. My life is fulfilled and every Christmas and birthday has just been celebrated in that one short orgasm. I feel myself drifting to sleep, the most luxurious boy blanket resting atop of me.

I don't think I sleep very long. I'm awakened by a hand inside my shorts and, indeed, inside my underwear as well. Jeremy is cupping my small handful and making little swirling motions with his hand. It doesn't take my button long to stretch out its full three inch length. I am still lying with my feet hanging over the side of the bed. Jeremy has moved perpendicular to me, his feet resting at the head of my bed. He's leaning on his left elbow and his right hand is deep inside my pants. He's looking up at me, smiling, waiting for me to wake up. Well, I'm awake, and so is little Michael.

Jeremy gathers his knees underneath him and, kneeling, he uses his left hand to start undoing my pants. I glance over at my door and then look, worriedly, at Jeremy.

"It's all right. I heard the front door slam. She went somewhere." He tells me.

I just smile at him and leave him to his own devices, my little button all excited by his ministrations. He gets my snap undone and the zipper pulled down. He slides off the bed and stands between my knees. Jeremy grasps my shorts at the bottom of the legs and starts tugging. I raise my butt off the bed to accommodate him. The shorts fall into a heap at my feet. Jer bends down and is kissing me through my underwear. I have to grab a double handful of bedspread as I gasp. I have never been touched this way. Hell, I had never been touched in any way ... not there. He's blowing his hot breath through the fabric of my underwear and against my dick and balls! I don't know what books this boy's been reading but he's picked up a few tricks along the way. Now he's using his lips and teeth to just nip at me ... not hard or anything, but I feel my dick swelling up like an over-pumped blood pressure cuff. He lays his lips lengthwise against the underside of my peter and he's humming, softly. It isn't a sound I can really hear but the vibrations of his lips are unbelievable. In ten or fifteen seconds the muscles in my stomach are twitching and my butt cheeks are clenching and I hear this tremendous roar in my ears as the mother of all orgasms starts at my toes and rips up through my insides! My whole body is jerking like I'm having an epileptic seizure. I'm making these nonsense sounds that I couldn't repeat to ya if I tried.

'Oh my God ... oh my God ... ' I'm thinking. 'And he never even took off my underwear.'

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Can this even technically be called sex? I mean, they were still dressed for gosh sakes. I know ... I'm just whining because I was wrong. Jeremy got into Michael's pants after all. Who would'a figured? But then, it kinda seems like Michael was ready ... oh boy ... he was ready! And oh boy ... I gotta tent of my own! Well, let's all go take a cold shower and we can meet at my place later for dinner. Don't be late and bring some wine. I have to go take a wank.

© 2007. All rights retained. No duplication without author's permission. No posting on another web site without approval. No ... not without a condom. Wow ... that's a lot of condoms!