OTR (P. V): Home Alone with Mike

On The Road (P V): Home Alone with Michael

This is part five in an ongoing series of my life on the road. Other installments can be found on this site.

...My Trooper friend woke up from his nap around noon and found me nude, dozing behind his house. He shook me awake and told me that he had to attend to some errands and offered to run me to the Indiana border, as previously promised.

I was hoping for a little more fun, but it was clear that wasn't going to happen.

I went back into his house, through the kitchen, to his bedroom and found my bag and my clothes. He came in while I was dressing and said, "wish you were local, it would be fun to hook up occasionally." I almost offered that I could stay for a few days, but I wasn't getting the vibe that he was offering that. So, I told him you never know, I might come back through this way. He wrote his first name and phone number down on a piece of paper and said, "please do."

So, within the hour I was standing on I 90, just across the Indiana border. "Be careful," he said, as he lifted my bag out of the trunk and set it down beside me. With that, he was heading West to the next cut out across the median. He waved as he went back east on the other side, about 5 minutes later.

With Willy Nelson's "On The Road Again" playing in my inner ear, I stuck my thumb out and waited for a ride. Three uneventful car rides later and a short ride on a north-bound commuter train from the Loop, I was standing at my friend's apartment in Evanston at about 7:30 p.m.

My friend, Tim, was a sophomore at Northwestern. He lived alone in a studio apartment near campus. It was a small place, but he and I had been friends since grade school. While it had been many years since we shared a bed as kids, it didn't seem like a big deal to share one now. He had a full bed, which was ok since between us we didn't weigh 230 pounds.

Tim did not know that I was bi and I didn't feel the need to share that with him.

We hung out that night—drank some beers and ate a pizza—and reminisced about our "glory days" in high school. He asked about my plans. "Living life," I told him. "Just living life." He shook his head at that. Look, I said, "'Whatever satisfies the soul is truth.' I'm satisfied right now just exploring the world around me."

"Geez," he said, "half the kids at Northwestern can't quote Whitman. Yet, here you are, the most literate hobo around and you wouldn't be caught dead sitting in a college classroom."

"Not true," I replied, "I doubt it's 'half,' more like a quarter." We laughed and left that subject alone.

He had an early class. I slept late. When I awoke, I went outside. There was a coffee shop around the corner, and I went in to get a morning fix and a muffin.

While waiting in line I noticed a bulletin board that had all kinds of notes hanging off it. One caught my eye. It said: "Help Wanted. Multi-State cleaning crew. Must be able to travel and not mind working nights and weekends." There was a number listed. I couldn't tell how long the notice had been posted but I wrote the number down. I had to do something for work and that job sounded fun; I was intrigued.

I ate my muffin and drank my coffee. And eyed all the young guys and girls with bad intent. When I got back to Tim's place, I called the number for the cleaning job and left my name and Tim's number.

The next day I walked up to the Bahai House of Worship, which is right on the edge of Evanston and Wilmette. From there I walked over to Gilson Park, which is east of Sheridan Road and just north of the Bahia Center. I sat on the beach and enjoyed the warm air, slight breeze and the feeling of freedom.

I noticed a guy sitting on a bench about 50 feet away from me. He looked to be about my age, maybe a little younger. I caught him stealing a glimpse at me. That's all the invitation I needed. I got up and walked over to where he was sitting.

He had shoulder length black hair, parted in the middle. His face was pale white and unblemished. He looked up at me with big dark eyes. He was cute, with a thin nose and full lips. Like me, he was skinny.

"Hey," I said, "what are you up to?"

When he didn't respond I turned and started to walk away. "Just sitting here," he mumbled.

I turned around and said, "mind if I sit with you for a bit?"

He didn't say anything. There was plenty of room on the bench, but he eventually scooted over a little and waved at the seat beside him. "O--kay," I thought to myself, not much of a conversationalist.

But I sat down and stared out at the lake beside him. Again, I was just about to get up and walk away when he said: "I like to come here at this time of the day. There's no one around and it's peaceful." I nodded my head and asked, "do you live around here?"

"Yea, a couple of blocks up."

I figured that this "conversation" wasn't going anywhere, so I stood up and said, "Well, have a great day" and started to walk away.

Not for the last time that day he surprised me when he asked: "you must be thirsty if you walked all that way?" I told him I was and then he responded with a new surprise: "want to come back to my house and get some water?"

He was cute but hard to read. I sensed that there was maybe a slight gay vibe but I really didn't think that this would lead to anything, but I was thirsty, so I agreed. He stood up and then we started walking north together. After less than 10 minutes we were standing in front of one of the biggest houses I'd ever seen.

Stupidly I asked him "you live here?" "Yep," he said and then in a flurry of words he said, "I'm a freshman at Northwestern and actually live in a dorm, but my parents are away for the month and I've been staying here; it's been nice not being in the dorm."

He told me that he was the youngest of three kids but that he was a lot younger than his older brother and sister. They were both married and living elsewhere. His parents were retired and traveled a lot, so he often got this big house to himself.

"Cool," I said. He nodded his head but then mumbled that sometimes it gets a little lonesome.

So, we proceeded up the front walk and up five steps. A massive front porch stretched from one side of the house to the other. A huge wooden door with a big glass window sat in the middle. He opened the door (it hadn't been locked) and we went inside. I followed him down a long hall to a big kitchen. It was cool inside.

He retrieved two glasses and poured us each a glass of water, handed me one and then walked out a door onto a back porch. We sat in two chairs. Spread out in front of us was a long, green, well-trimmed lawn that stretched to a white sand beach. The Lake then spread out big and dark blue from the beach.

He told me his name was Michaeal—Mike for short. He asked me where I was from, and I told him that I'd come out from the Boston area. He was fascinated that I had hitchhiked all that way. I told him all about my trip—leaving out any mention of Val, Seth or the gorgeous Ohio State Trooper. He kept looking at me like I was some stranger from a strange land.

He slowly became a little more talkative. He asked me about where I was staying. I told him about Tim's place, noting it was small but temporary.

He opened up a bit. He was clearly shy, but his shyness faded as we talked. It was getting late in the day. And I figured I'd better start back. I told him that. He looked sad and said, "I was hoping you might want to hang out for a while. We could get a pizza or subs or something from a place in town. I can always drive you down to Evanston later."

Another surprise: this was a pretty far cry from the kid who barely spoke to me when we first met. But I thought about it. I didn't really have any place to be and how often do you get to sit on a porch at the back of a Wilmette mansion staring at Lake Michigan. "Sure," I said.

We ordered a pizza and ate it out on the back porch. We talked about all kinds of things. Mike was clearly a pretty well-educated kid. We'd read a lot of the same books. We got into a pretty animated debate about capitalism and individualism and the real reason why critics hated "Atlas Shrugged." Once he got going, it was hard to get him to stop. Another surprise.

While the verbal discourse was fun it was not lost on me that Mike was a seriously cute guy. And I couldn't help glancing down at his crotch, imagining what might be hiding behind that zipper. He caught me looking and each time he caught me he gave me a shy smile. I caught him looking too, but I could not move the conversation to sex.

I stood up and stretched and told him I should probably be thinking about getting back to Evanston. He once again looked sad and didn't say anything. After a few seconds he said, "I've got all kinds of space here. Why not spend the night? I can run you back tomorrow when I go to my first class."

That sounded fine to me. So, I called Tim's phone and left a message on his answering machine telling him I wouldn't be back that night.

We sat and talked some more. Around midnight Mike suggested that we go to bed. He led me up a grand, wide staircase. Its dark wood was offset by a red and dark blue patterned runner that had to be four feet wide.

There was a master bedroom to the left at the top of the stairs. He showed me that room, which turned out to be his parents' room. We went back out and down the hall. At the far end there was a door and he headed for that. He opened it up and there was a room that was about the same size as the master. "This is my room," he said. He showed me around. It had its own bathroom (bigger than Tim's apartment, I thought) which connected through a separate door to another bedroom. Mike said, "there's 7 other bedrooms up here and on the third floor, but I thought you might be comfortable in here?"

"Sure," I said. Not quite as big as his bedroom, this room was still bigger than any bedroom I'd stayed in.

He went into the closet and came out with a towel, wash cloth and a toothbrush that was still in its package. He then crossed back through the bathroom to his room, saying goodnight as he walked away.

I waited for him to use the bathroom. I suppressed an urge to try to sneak a peek through the crack of the opened door at his cock. I then went in and brushed my teeth. It had been a long day, and I hadn't showered, so I figured "what the hell, I'm sure he won't mind." I stripped down and got into the shower. I noted that it could fit me and a couple of friends.

I was working up a good lather when the shower door opened. Mike was standing there. He was naked from head to toe. He smiled shyly at me and said, "would you mind if I joined you?"

This was, I thought at the time, the biggest surprise of all. You could have knocked me over with a feather. While I knew that this whole encounter had been a bit odd from the outset, I couldn't move us to even remotely discussing sex. So, you'll forgive me if I tell you that even in that instant I was thinking that maybe he was just looking to conserve water...

Anyway, the door opened and there he stood. His skin was the color of alabaster, pale white from his forehead to his feet. His skin looked even more white against the shock of black hair on his head and a very dense bush of black pubic hair that sat above a semi-erect cock. Dark strands of hair poked out from under his arms, too.

His nipples were small and hard. He had no hair on his chest or abdomen; there was no pleasure trail to speak of, which made his pubes stick out even more.

His cock was cut and looked to be about 3 inches or so in its semi-hard state.

"Wow," I said, "where did this come from?" For an instant he looked like I had just slapped him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He started to back out of the shower, and I said, "Wait. Stop. C'mon in. I'm not saying you're not welcome, I'm just surprised is all. I mean, I had no idea. Come in. Come in." I stepped forward and reached out to him.

He stood still. My hands reached his hips, and I pulled him toward me. I murmured to him, "this is great. Everything's ok. This will be fun..." and a bunch of other things, all in a soothing tone.

He clearly wanted to play but was pretty unsure of himself. I can't even imagine what it took him to screw up his courage to get naked and open the shower door.

I pulled him toward me. He was looking down toward the shower floor. When he was close enough, I lifted his chin up until his lips met mine. I leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. He moaned and fell toward me. The water from the shower head was now spraying down on both of us.

I opened my mouth and slipped my tongue between his closed lips. He didn't try to stop me and soon we were engaged in full throttle French kissing. My tongue explored every bit of his mouth while my hands swept behind his hips and grabbed his ass cheeks, pulling him closer to me. I spun him around so that he was now closer to the shower wall and my ass was facing the glass door.

I looked down and saw that both our cocks were sticking out. They looked very similar. Both cut. Mine was maybe a half inch longer. But they were both fully erect.

I took a bar of soap in my hands and lathered up. I started at his shoulders. I then moved to his torso, rubbing the soapy mixture into this chest and then down to his belly and then up again. I went up under his arms and, taking the hint, he raised them toward the ceiling. I lathered up first his left and then his right pit. And then I cupped some water and splashed it on him to rinse away the soap.

After I'd rinsed away the soap, I leaned in and started to lick under his arms. He was squirming but did not tell me to stop. I ate first one pit then the other, savoring the delicious flavor and sucking the black hair between my teeth. My tongue licked and my lips kissed the tender spots under his arms.

My lips and tongue then traveled down his chest. I sucked on his nipples, alternating between the two of them. My hand reached down and took his cock. I stroked it a few times and then found his balls. All the while he just stood there like a statue, letting me explore him with my tongue. I turned him around and kissed his cheeks, first one and then the other. I opened his cheeks and looked at his hole. Naturally bare and clean. I licked the sides of his ass and then my tongue found his hole. His knees started to wobble, so I pressed him against the wall to steady him, bending him a bit at the waste.

I laid my tongue out as far as it would go and licked from the bottom of his crack up to his hole, darting in to fuck him with my tongue and darting out. He pressed back against me.

I was on my knees. I turned him around and his cock—it was probably a little over 5 inches—was rock hard and mouth level. His big black bush was soaking wet and glistening with water. I stroked his cut cock up and down, the shower water making it slick. I held the base with my right hand, my thumb twiddling his balls. I pulled his cock to my mouth and took him in, all the way down to his luscious black pubes. With my hand now playing with his balls, I started going back and forth on his cock—in and out and in and out. I felt his hands on my ears pushing me and pulling me. Then his hand was on the back of my head, pulling me in and pushing me out. At the same time he was thrusting his hips forward and back.

We kept this up for a while and then he pulled back and took his cock in his hand. He rubbed it on my lips and cheeks. He stuck it in my mouth. He slapped my cheeks with it. He rubbed it across my lips and then he stuck it in my mouth. He fucked my mouth some more and then pulled out again.

He took his cock in his hand and put it on my tongue. He was stroking the base and I was licking the tip. He groaned and his knees started to shake. I continued licking the tip and his stroking got faster. I held his balls in my hands and was rubbing and rolling them. He was now in command of his cock—rubbing it against my tongue and stroking it.

His ass muscles tightened and he shot a volley of thick cum on my tongue. One after another, the volleys kept coming. I kept my tongue out so that he could see the cum accumulating and when it appeared he was done I let it swirl in my mouth before swallowing.

His cock shrank a bit, and he leaned back against the wall.

He rinsed himself under the shower, stepped out, grabbed his towel, toweled himself off and disappeared into the bathroom fog. Not a word was spoken.

I smiled. This is an odd one, for sure, I thought to myself. I reached down. My cock was still rock hard but the water was turning lukewarm and I needed to get out.

I rinsed, dried off and went to my room. I could still taste his sweet cum in my mouth.

There I got the biggest surprise of the night: he lay in the bed, his arms up and holding the back of his head. "Hi," he said in a whisper, "I hope this is ok?"

I stood beside the bed, naked. My cock, hard again, was jutting straight forward. I stood there with my mouth open, but no words came out.

I took a minute to appreciate what I was seeing. He was skinny, not at all muscled; I could see his ribs. His cock—now semi erect—lay on his lower belly, pointing up toward his head. His skin was pale white. I again noted the contrast between his unblemished skin and the very dark, very luscious thatch of pubic hair in his mid-section, the two patches under his arms, now fully exposed, and the wonderful mop of hair on his head.

"Thank you," he whispered. "My pleasure," I said, and I meant every word of it.

He was looking me over. He noted that we were pretty similar looking. Both skinny and both relatively hairless except for our pubes, pits and head. My hair was curly and my complexion was more Mediterranean, but I knew what he was saying. "I like your body," he said.

He rolled on his side, his left arm now crooked with his hand supporting his head, just behind the ear.

His right arm reached out and he put his hand around my cock, pulling me toward the bed.

"I'm not too experienced," he said, "but that was without a doubt the best blow job I've ever had. I really liked what you were doing to my butt," he continued, "I'd read that a male's ass is an erogenous zone, but I never really believed it."

He kept talking about what we'd just done. I just stood there. I was amused. This guy who I could barely get to talk a few hours earlier now wouldn't shut up about the sex we just had. But the way he described each move we made was really turning me on.

I was now right next to the edge of the bed, bending forward a little bit. He pulled and I fell into the bed. He moved out of the way and once I was on the bed he reached over and raised my arms above my head. I took the hint and laced my fingers behind my head. I was now prone and he was up on his left elbow looking down at me.

He moved his head closer to me and lightly kissed my forehead. Then he kissed my nose. And then he lightly kissed my lips. He pulled away slightly. His tongue came out and licked my top lip. I opened my mouth. He did not stick his tongue in my mouth. He continued to lick my top lip. He then licked my tongue and started to lick my bottom lip. He continued on like this, first licking the bottom lip and then licking the top and then the bottom. The feeling was intense. So sexy.

After a bit his tongue did enter my mouth and we kissed. He then pulled back and kissed my chin and then licked his way down to my chest.

He lapped my left nipple with his tongue and then closed his mouth around it. He sucked on my left nipple for a little and then went to my right nipple. My arms were still stretched over my head. He went over to my left armpit and started to kiss and lick it. I was squirming on the bed. I couldn't feel it, but my guess is that pre-cum was gushing out of my rock-hard cock. He moved over to the right armpit and licked and sucked and kissed.