Storybook

My name is Pete, and I'm going to tell you a story. Now, It might be long, but I like to think its a good one.

The thing about most good stories though, is that you rarely know when when ones begun, until you're already in too deep. Chapters have unfolded, and you feel like you've almost reached the end. If you're lucky, you start to realize what it was all about, even if you have no idea what's going to happen.

From what I can recall though, my story starts like this...

* * * * * * *

I looked out through the frosted window at the snow covered sidewalk, nervously awaiting my guest. It was a week after New Years, and the neighbours hadn't taken their lights down, so the few flakes in the air twinkled as they spun to the ground. I could see a figure crossing the street, his hands buried into his pockets, head bowed as he walked. He approached my porch and quietly knocked.

Opening the door let in a gush of cold air, and I gestured him inside. He stomped the snow off his sneakers and pulled his toque off.

"wow, all this yours?"

"Yup, for now anyways,"

He was a stringy kid with a shaggy mop of brown hair on his head, and a dusting of fuzz on his chin. he took off his heavy winter jacket, his wide shoulders tenting his t-shirt out over his skinny build. He was tall but delicate.

I closed the front door, shutting out the brutal cold and followed him down the hallway. This kid was a complete stranger, and obviously new to my place, but I let him tour me as he walked around trying to get his bearings. With his back to me, I checked the app to make sure I remembered his name. "So Mikey, did you want a drink?"

We were practically in the kitchen by that point anyways.

He turned on heel, and kissed me, his hands grabbing at my ass, pulling our groins together. Even through our jeans, our hard-ons were obvious, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, gripping tight as we made out with increased passion. My body leaned into his, and pushed him against the fridge, magnets falling to the floor with a clatter. His hands slipped past my waistband and under my briefs until he was kneading the hairy flesh of my ass cheeks. We were panting at each other as we ground our bodies in a crude embrace.

A break between our lips allowed him to speak "Where do you—" his voice trailed off as I began to nibble his neck.

"Bedroom's upstairs,"

He slid his body out from underneath mine, and grabbed my hand. I trailed his youthful energy as he blindly drug me upstairs.

After we both got off, there was some polite chit chat before he left. Nice kid, I thought. Cute, but sexy. I figured I would never hear from him again.

* * * * * * *

My profile had a picture of me hefting a large fish in a boat. I thought the tank top, the muscle and the easy smile worked best online, selling me as a pretty basic bro who just so happened to be looking for dick. 33, 6'1, fit jock type. Enjoys beers with guys, sports and architecture. It got me play. What it didn't say of course, was that I was perpetually in the gym and eating the most boring shit known to man. That I was nervous about whether or not my dirty blonde hair was receding, that I was dying in a horrible office job, and feared that the older I got, the fewer options I would have in love.

I didn't come out until I was 25, and when it finally happened I threw myself into the lifestyle full force. I moved to the village, became a club queen, fucked a lot, took a lot of drugs, and fell hard for a guy. I would learn though, that we were all incredibly fucked up.

I had this theory about it too - that at that point in time, before Glee and Will & Grace and Ellen, before marriage equality - all us gays were still incredibly on the edge of respectability. And that even as acceptance and law fell on our side, the greater number of us still suffered from a post traumatic stress thing. It was the guilt we'd lived with our entire lives, compounded with the desperate grab for sex and intimacy, turning into even more guilt and shame for not having more self control and self respect.

The guy I fell hard for, I still don't know what it was all about. Like, I felt as though when I met him, that I suddenly wanted all the usual trappings of a straight relationship. I wanted to be his, and him mine - with nobody in the picture or on the horizon. I wanted out of the clubs, and onto the couch. I wanted to shop at Costco on the weekends with him, and be boring. Like I said, I still don't know why, but he flicked that switch for me.

But he didn't feel that way back. We had mutual attraction and lusts, just not the same feelings.

The thing that I didn't understand about his reaction at first, was that while I wanted all that I wanted - he was scared, and non-committal. We'd both grown up as the despised other, grabbing at each others cocks in the dark, away from prying eyes, the judgement, the ridicule. We were both used to feeling like we had to hide, and be ready to run. At the time, there was no role model for the "respectable" gay life, just a branded idea of what being gay really was. Marriage wasn't granted to us, so we rejected it and defined ourselves by it.

But when I fell in love, like real, hard, difficult, love - everything I really wanted was seen as "straight".

As one could imagine, picking up the shrapnel of an "exploded" heart with all the anger and resentment possible, made it that much easier to prescribe to that theory. If I was gay, I wasn't going to let the norms of straight society tell me about monogamy. I was going to celebrate my sex and do whomever the fuck I wanted.

By the time I hit thirty though, I was hit with a wall of regret. I could easily feel my relevancy on the scene dissipate. Where do old fags go exactly? Again, I was short of role models - the generation before mine didn't have the luxury of old age.

Great. We could marry now and have stable and public relationships. Except me, and everyone my age was taught that that was wrong, so...

I tried my hand at boyfriends in the last couple years, seeking out guys like me in my early thirties. But I would either find a guy who showed up with "couple goals", or one who loved stability, so long as they weren't the ones providing it. I was probably also caught somewhere in between, I suppose.

It was fucked up. I was fucked up. And with my job being so incredibly meaningless, I did nothing but focus on my failures to find and keep love.

But as John Lennon said "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans"

* * * * * * *

— You up? —

I heard the blip on the app while talking to an older guy about kink. His responses were lagging, and the probability of a hook up with him was falling fast, so I flipped over to the messages and saw what was sent.

It was Mikey. The kid from January. Mikey was back.

If I was being completely honest, the stages of emotion that follow were something like this.

Yes! That cute guy I hooked up with! Now I don't have to make do with someone else. Maybe he DIDN'T think I was ugly/awful in bed/smelly the last time He's probably just drunk and horny and doesn't care.

Despite the rollercoaster ending in a dip, I wrote back and hoped for the best.

— Yeah man, hey, long time no see, how's it been? —

I tried hard not to seem too eager or insulted... or human. If it helps to make this exchange feel more real, just read each new response about five minutes apart or so, and you'll get the drift.

— Ah, its been a bit tough. Just busy. HBU? —

That means "how 'bout you?" in case you needed a translation.

— Sorry to hear... anything I can do to help? —

— I'm a bit horny. Can you help with that? —

— I think I can ;) —

— I think I want you to fuck me tonight —

— Really? —

— yeah. I just haven't done it in a long time. So you'll have to be slow about it —

— okay... when are you available? —

— is now okay? —

— cool, just need to clean up here —

— cool. I need to shower. Be there in half an hour? —

— Sure man. See you soon —

* * * * * * *

Mikey arrived on time wearing a tank top and jogging pants, it was a warm spring night. His hair was still damp, and though he had just washed up, he was actually looking a bit dishevelled.

"Hey man, glad you could make it," I waved him through the door, and shut it behind me. He stood silently at the foot of the stairs, so I sidled up behind him, wrapping my arm around his waist. His body sank into my grip.

"Could I actually get a water?"

"Sure," I started towards the kitchen, noticing over my shoulder that he just kinda stood there at the bottom of the stairs, lost in thought. I took a glass from the cupboard and turned the faucet on, trying to think of something conversational to say. Drawing a blank, I filled the glass and returned to the hallway where he stood motionless.

"You okay bud?" He took the glass and gave me a strained grin. My hand went to his shoulder as he took a sip.

"Yeah, I'm good - shall we?" We climbed the stairs, and I lingered just behind him, eyeing that cute little butt in those jogging pants. Remembering where the bedroom was, Mikey just walked in, and set his glass on the night table. He turned into my arms, and pressed his lips against mine.

Sometimes familiarity is just hot.

Methodically, we stripped off our shirts, and moved to the bed. I lay on top of him, my hands moving over his biceps, sliding along his forearms, until i held his wrists against the pillows. We ground our covered cocks together as we hungrily made out. Pulling back, I looked down at him, his foppish hair falling in his eyes, his little goatee. I scanned his body, a hairless torso juxtaposed against the thick dark curls covering his armpits. His ribs rose and fell with his rapid breath. A treasure trail moved over his flat stomach, disappearing under the waistband of his jogging pants. He was young and beautiful. I kissed him deeply, as he happily submitted to my control.

I retreated once again, but this time grabbed his pants as well. I lifted his legs and stripped him to his socks and underwear. There was a mere second of reflection before he sat up and kissed me hard. His tongue jabbing into my mouth, his arms and legs wrapping around my body. I thrust upwards into his bottom and he began to ride me, grinding against my dick. It's the build up right? It's all about the build up.

There was a moment though, where we slowed to a stop, and I felt Mikey lower his head to my shoulder. We just sat like that, in tight embrace for a minute, before I lowered us both back onto the mattress, onto our sides. Facing one another, I got another brief smile. My hand instinctively went to push the hair off his face, before delicately tracing his jawline with my thumb, and bringing his lips back to mine.

"How would you like me to —" I trailed off this time, unable to finish the question elegantly I suppose. He looked at me and bit his bottom lip.

"I don't know - um, doggy maybe?"

There was something about the lack of conviction in his voice that made me think, this kid doesn't have a lot of experience as a bottom. Maybe not at all. Part of me wanted to ask him if he was virgin there, but the greater part of me just wanted to give him my best effort.

"Sure," I gave him a quick peck before jumping off the bed to get my gear. When I returned, Mikey was on his stomach, pushing his underwear off, and kicking it off his stockinged feet. His ass was pert and full for such a skinny guy, and it was covered in hair. It made me think of a guy back in high school named Gus, who looked completely normal until he was naked in the locker room. He had a thick pelt of dark pubic hair that seemed to creep all the way around to his ass. His crack was bushy, and he used to get made fun of a lot because of it. I'd wondered if Mikey was teased about his skinny, hairy body.

Moving to the foot of the bed, I spread Mikey's legs and kneeled in between. I could just spy his tiny pucker as I placed the lube, condoms and towel on the bed sheet beside us. My hands began to massage his cheeks, as he rested his head across his folded arms. If he was nervous, I couldn't tell. I was just about to pop the cap on the lube, before I thought - hey, why not give the kid a treat. Lowering my body to the mattress, I pulled his cheeks open and thumbed away the hair. My tongue darted out, and I braced for the moment it made contact with his hole.

"Oh fuccckkk!!!!!" His body bounced on the bed as I licked his ass, my hands holding his midsection in place. "Ohhhhhh fuck me!!". I wasn't big on rimming, and only usually under certain circumstance, but I wanted to do it for Mikey. I had clearly chosen right by his incoherent moaning and babbling. I could taste the soap and body wash, amongst the general funk of ass - the soft sweaty skin contracting and relaxing against my mouth. I stabbed into him with my tongue, eliciting a deep bellow, and fists pounding the pillows. I worked at getting him hot and loose, only stopping once he felt ready to move on.

I reached for the lube and opened the bottle, settling my hand along his bottom seam and pouring it down his crack. I used my thumb to probe, while collecting the spill-off with my other hand, working it into his rectum. I could see the fine muscle on his back and shoulders tense as I opened him up, working a single finger inside, then two. His whimpering was tight and strained, but he soldiered on. I added more lube, and went deeper, until I found the little walnut of his prostate. I barely stroked it with the tip of my finger, and felt him melt at my touch. I played with him a little while longer before withdrawing to strip naked and put on a condom.

Mikey lifted his hips off the bed as I crawled up behind him, his hole slathered in lube. I squirted more on my cock, before pushing the tip between his cheeks. There was resistance at first, but I gently worked my shaft slowly inside of him. Mikey quietly whined as I strained his sphincter. I would pull out ever so slightly, before dripping more lube on my dick, and pushing further in. Finally, I felt the muscle grip, and knew he had taken me fully.

"You okay bud?"

"yeaaah," came the tentative reply.

"I'm just going to go slow okay, try to breathe. If its too much, let me know,"

"ok,"

I didn't want to hurt him. He had said he wanted to get fucked, but I wanted badly for him to enjoy it. Gently, I began to rock my hips against his backside. Half an inch out, half an inch in. If it felt like there was too much friction, I would pull out further, and re-lube, before pushing back. It took awhile before he finally felt loose and relaxed, which was when I felt good about quickening the pace. Dropping the lube, I grabbed his slender hips in my hands, and began to fuck in earnest. I could tell he was enjoying it, because he went back to those deep moans, and seemed to be eagerly backing up against me.

I looked down across his back, and smelled our musky sweat. My cock slid quickly through his hairy ass, and I felt myself getting closer and closer as I pounded Mikey's prostate. He yelped the harder I went, and before I knew it I was adding to the noise, filling the condom inside his ass, groaning in ecstasy as my legs began to shake.

I meekly kept fucking until I could feel myself go limp, withdrawing and leaving Mikey to collapse in bed. I dashed into the bathroom to remove and trash the condom, and to wash my hands. Looking over at his unmoving form, I called out to him.

"Hey bud - why don't we get you in the shower to clean up,"

* * * * * * *

The water from the shower head rained down on us as we sat in the slowly filling tub. We sat across from each other in the dark with just the water making noise.

While no worse for wear, Mikey was moving extremely gingerly as he tried to get up from the bed. I told him to lay back down again, so I could get a warm hand cloth and begin to clean his ass. I also gave him an inspection. No blood. No tearing. Just soreness. I helped him into the shower, but figured I would plug up the tub and have him sit and soak his butt in the warm water. He asked me in for company.

Squished into that tub, the spray hitting him in the back, we talked a little.

Mikey was finishing school as a video game designer. He liked to sketch, and make things. His family lived in the suburbs of the city, but he had been living downtown during the school year. He liked girls as well as boys, but always felt more drawn to guys as relationship material. He had come out when he was 16, after getting into a late night three way with his girlfriend and another guy.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?!"

He grinned, pushing his wet hair out of his face. "I shit you not! Like, it was a drunk thing - but, I wasn't like totally drunk. I liked it A LOT. And that made me think that I could actually be with a guy, like holding hands and stuff. A relationship."

"And did you? You've had boyfriends?"

"yeah. two."

"So what happened to the original girlfriend?"

"We fucked for awhile, then she cheated on me, with like, her dad's best friend! It was fucked up. She's awesome though, we stayed friends. She said after that she knew I would like guys better. Never explained why." Mikey brought his legs up and rested his chin on his knees.

"How's your ass feeling?" I asked him sheepishly.

"It's okay. So long as I don't move." He grinned, and his eyes went wide. "Your dick feels huge!"

I laughed and looked away, into through pooling water at my shrivelling dick. "Are you saying its NOT huge? It just FEELS huge?" We both laughed, and Mikey splashed me with his hand

"Nooo, I'm just saying. Y'know, fuck it — you got to fuck my twink ass. I don't owe you nothing!"

I grinned wide, and spread my legs along the sides of the tub. My feet crept around Mikey, settling behind his back.

"Did you like it?" I asked, Mikey looking away in thought. I searched his face for reaction.

"I did." His eyes returned to mine. "I'd only done that twice before, and this time was kinda the only time I enjoyed it." His eyes grew pensive. "It was nice. Like, I could tell you weren't just trying to fuck me, you were — like, thats more like making love I guess."

We both looked away, trying not to acknowledge to awkwardness in the word "love". I liked him, and he seemed to like me, but...

"thank you," With water pouring over his head he leaned forward and kissed me.

* * * * * * *

Mikey and I washed and dried, making light conversation as we slowly got dressed. I made fun of him for keeping his socks on during sex. He called me a kinky old man who liked that kind of thing, and we continued poking fun at one another as I walked him to the door.

"Seriously though, thanks for coming over... again," I put my shirt on as we walked towards the front door.

"Well thanks for having me," He smirked and raised an eyebrow. A silence hung in the air. "So, I was thinking - like, this is fun -"

"totally-"

"I was thinking maybe we should exchange numbers, y'know - so we don't have to use the app anymore,"

Simultaneously, I was elated and scared.

"Sure!" I fumbled around looking for my phone, before handing it to him to punch in his numbers. I was happy that he was interested in seeing me again, but scared shitless of what his expectations were. He was this beautiful young guy with the whole world in front of him, and I was this schlub 11 years older, and paralyzed by a fear of where my life was going. I couldn't be his guide. I wasn't a 'daddy' type.

But I did like him. Was just starting to get to know him.

"So I put my number in there, I put it under Mikey - though most people know me by 'Michael'"

I took my phone from his hand.

"Of course... Mikey,"

Our bodies neared as we both shared a grin.

"You're a dick, you know that right?" He kissed me quickly on the nose.