MIKE, MY LUCKY MIKE...: A true story written by Ganymed

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A true story written on May 13th 1996 by Ganymed.[1]

The first time I saw him was spring 1994. A cute boy, well slim

with a little babies' belly, medium long sandy hair, light blue eyes, light smooth skin without any hair and a warm smile on his lips. This lovely first sight captured my thoughts, my heart and my soul immediately. I knew nothing about him, not his name nor where he lived. Now every time when I walked the dog, I cruised through the apartment block and hoped fervently to see this eleven year old boy again.

A long time passed and only in September '94 did I meet him again. In this evening I stood there with some known boys from the neighbourhood, talking, joking and teasing each other. Suddenly Mike came along and stopped in front our group. My heart was beating so hard, I thought the others could hear it pumping. Quite nervously I looked around, to the trees, down to the grass.

"Hey Mike," Chris asked, "where've you been for such a long time?"

Mike was his name, M I K E. Every letter of this name I could feel running down my neck and back. I forced myself to ignore him but again and again my eyes caught his face. His view crossed mine and a smile touched his face. Something exploded in my heart like a flash of light and ashamed I looked at my shoe tips. Mike begged a cigarette from me and then told us why he was away. It turned out that he lived in our block, but his school was about sixteen miles away at the other side of the town. The whole summer holidays he had to stay with his aunt in the country. I couldn't believe that he lived so near and I never met him.

My heart jumped as they talked and talked. I felt my blood running through my ears: it sounded like waves splashing against rocks. The voices of the other boys were far away, inaudible like trees whispering in the wind. Only Mike's voice was clear as a bell. Every word he spoke burned a mark in my soul as he talked on and aon.

Half an hour passed but it seemed to be only two minutes. Mike left and a sharp pain stabbed at my soul. The whole time Mike had stayed by us, I hadn't been able to say a word.

"Hey Peter," Bernie got me back to reality, "what's the matter with you?"

"Oh, it's only a light headache," I lied. It wasn't light and it wasn't in the head.

From this time I saw him sometimes in the evening. I began to know more and more about him. He was eleven at this time and had a sixteen year old sister and a seven year old brother who was mentally handicapped. The parents didn't take much care of Mike as his little brother got all their
love. He was jealous of the care his brother got but he nevertheless loved him very much.

The more I saw Mike, the more I loved him. Then came winter and again I lost Mike off my eyes. But I didn't forget him and in Spring '95 he was back again. I sat there by the pond behind our blocks and tried to draw a group of trees. Sitting by the pond often gives me a good mood and makes me feel better. Suddenly two hands came from behind and covered my eyes. I didn't know who it could be and said the names of all the people I knew. The boy behind me didn't say a word, so I took his hands away and turned around.

It was Mike, and he was alone. This was the first time I saw him without any other friends around him. He begged a cigarette from me and sat down beside me. I wasn't able to say anything, so he just sat there. After a time my heart began to beat slower and I began to think. 'What's the matter with me?' I thought. 'Why am I so happy seeing him and why does it hurt so much when he leaves?' We talked and talked the whole afternoon and after a while I bought him a Coke and some ice cream.

In the evening I asked him "I would like to take some photos of you, but only if you want to?" With a wide smile he agreed and we made a date for the next day. I was happy like never before and that night I hardly slept at all. In the morning I checked the photo equipment over and over again. Everything had to be perfect: maybe I'd never get a chnace like this again. At noon I was at the pond and I had to wait over an hour until Mike appeared. That afternnon I took a series of thirty photos, most of his head and face. He wanted to go swimming, but he wore no swimming trunks.

"Nobody else is there," I said, " you can go swimming with your undies or nude." I hoped he would choose the second, but he kept his underpants on. I took two photos of his nude body in wet undies. As he left the water, I could see the shape of his little boyhood trough the wet fabric. It gave me a hard on and I had a few problems hiding it from Mike. He put on his jeans and sweater, even though his underpants was still wet. We fooled around that afternoon and at seven we went back home.

Next morning I put the photos in for developing and was jumping around all morning: I couldn't wait to see them. After this photo session, our paths crossed more often than before.

Nearly every evening he waited for me to come along with the dog. Often I invited him for icecream, to McDonalds or to the Italien for pizza. My love for him grew more every day.

At the begining of the summer holidays I did a hike with twelve boys and three girls. One of these boys told Mike and two days later he stood in front of me with glowing eyes. "Why do you invite THEM for hiking and ME not too?" He was a little angry and disappointed.

"They invited me and if I'd known that you'd join in, I'd loved to go much more."

I went on the hike anyway, and we had a lot of fun, although during it I kept thinking of Mike. When I came back he met me almost immediately.

"Have you missed me at this adventure?" he asked with a sad dog look.

"It was only half fun without you," I answered, and it was the truth. "Will your parents agree if I ask for you to join us in the next hike?"

"Sure," he said, "next time I'm with you, don't worry about my folks."

My heart jumped: a hike with Mike, what more could I wish for? But I couldn't go hiking every weekend because of my own family. What would my wife and our boys say? I couldn't stay outside every weekend.

After a month we planned the hike, but it rained terribly att weekend and we had to put it off until the next week. The Saturday after was good and we started before noon. There were ten boys between twelve and fifteen with us, and the sister of one of these who was twelve. And now Mike was there, I couldn't do anything but have a good time.

We stood there, a lot of nice boys and I waiting for the bus. All in all we were a dozen and for the first time I began to think about sleeping arrangements. Marty has a tent and shares it with his sister, Mike has a two-men-tent, but can take three kids. I had a five- men- iglu-tent for the other six boys and me: I was hoping that Mike could sleep next to me, but could see that as he had his own tent it was not to be.

After a ride of an hour we reached the little lake. Walking up the trail to our place turned out to be a jungle expedition, the vegetation was so wild. After a while we managed to get there, and we found that our hard work had paid off. The scenery was beautiful! We found a place, secluded from outside view, and built the tents. Then we went swimming till the sun went down.

The boys got dry branches and we lit a warming fire. We grilled some pork and potatoes: Mike ate enough for two persons! The whole afternoon I had looked pretty much only at him and now by the fire I had a delicious sight. He sat beside me wearing only his swimming trunks. His arm kept touching mine and a shower of joy filled my heart. The only thing I wished so much for on this camp had come true: hour after hour of staying with Mike. I thought nothing could be better.

The fire burned down to glowing embers and the meal was eaten. Mike leaned with sleepy eyes against my shoulder and I wrapped my arm around him. It didn't upset anyone, because in their eyes Mike was just a little boy, one of the youngest. After a few minutes he felt asleep and sank down to my thigh. He used it as a pillow and wrapped his arms around it. I sat there without moving so as not to wake him. I felt his warm cheek pressed against my thigh and a wet spot where his lips touched my warm flesh. I gently caressed his neck, hoping for it to seem to the others just like a natural gesture. But I knew exactly what I did, every touching of my fingertips gave me a great feeling: a mixture of luck, love and contentedness.

At eleven we covered the glowing fire with sand and went back to the camp. The boys played expedition or tiger hunting and had a lot of fun. Only Mike was still tired and made me carry him on my back. Oh how lucky I was, I felt!

After a while of watching them joking, teasing each other and wrestling (a beautiful sight, half naked boys pressing together and rolling through the grass), I went back to the fireplace and had a look to check that it was safe. Then I went down to the lake and thought about the day that had gone. I wished that that moment would last forever. But all good things come to an end, and soon I made my way back to the camp.

As I arrived, it was all quiet. Silently I opened the zipper of my tent and couldn't believe the sight inside. All the nine boys were strecthed out in there and there was not a square inch space left for me. Carefully I took my sleeping bag out and went to Mike's tent. I thought that with a tent for me alone, I'd at least have a good night's sleep. I opened the whole zipper of the sleeping bag and covered the tents ground with it. Then I took the thin blanket and covered myself with it. But after a quarter of an hour I still couldn't sleep: my thoughts kept me awake. I couldn't stop thinking of Mike.

Suddenly the zipper of the tent was opened. Mike's head, silhouetted by the moon, poked in through the opening.

"Are you asleep?" he whispered.

"No Mike," I whispered back, "I can't sleep and... I was thinking about you."

"About me? Why about me?"

"Because you're the nicest boy I know." It was only the truth and Mike was a little embarassed. "Hey, why are you awake?"

"Someone pulled my sleeping bag away and I'm cold and there is no space to move and... may I sleep with you? I don't want to disturb you."

My heart jumped. "It's your tent Mike, I should be asking if I can sleep here, not the other way around." He crawled in, closed the zipper and kneeled in front of me, looking around. "What now?" I asked him.

"My sleeping bag is over there," he whispered.

I lifted the blanket and he slipped beside me, but he left a space of two feet between the two of us. We talked about the gone day and slowly he moved closer and closer to me. After about ten minutes his shoulder touched mine. A pleasant shudder ran through my body.

He was quiet for a minute or two then he whispered "I wasn't asleep at the fire, I only closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. Didn't you notice that?"

"No," I said and squeezed his arm, "if I'd knew that, I'd never have... caressed you."

"Oh, that wasn't so bad," he whispered. "I'll not be angry with you, if you do it again."

It was quiet again for a minute, then I said "Hang on, I can't fondle you, because you're lying on your back. Why don't you move closer to me, like before at the fire, and place your head on my shoulder?" He did so and placed his hand on my other shoulder.

The boy pressed his face against my neck and took a deep breath. "You smell nice," he said, and kissed my neck. My fingertips gently touched his neck, went down to his neck and explored every square inch of his back, down to the waistband of his swimming trunks. "That feels good," he
whispered in my ear. "Can you do it one more time, please?" Again and again I ran my hands over his whole backside and Mike groaned a little. After about twenty minutes he fell asleep.

I couldn't close an eye for the whole night. It wouldn't look good if anybody came in and found us in such a position, but I couldn't stop fondling him.

Mike changed position a few times during the night. One time he pressed his back against me and laid with his head on my arm. My hand rested on his nude belly. Carefully I worked my fingers under the waistband of his trunks and down to his groin till I could feel the hairless pubic area of his sweet body. I felt the root of his penis between two of my fingers. I wondered of the size of his penis and balls, but I didn't move more. I felt that his little cock was about an half inch thick. The length I couldn't feel. My hand rested on Mike's pubic area for a long time, until he moved again. He turned around with his face to me and my hand slipped out od his trunks. I kissed him gently on his lips. I resumed fondling and caressing him and thought about the things I would like to show him.

In the morning Mike opened his eyes and smiled. "Have you caressed me all night?" he asked.

"Sure," I said, "a great boy like you needs this. Do you like it?"

"Hmm, it isn't so bad, I think I like it more than teethbrushing." He laughed, boxed me my belly and left the tent for a pee. Some of the other boys woke up and went swimming while I fixed the breakfast for them.

At noon we packed the tents and went back home. This evening I saw Mike again, but we had no chance to talk alone.

After this weekend I was almost crazy for him. Never before had I felt so much love for a boy. I would do anything, if I could only stay with him. Every free minute of my life I wanted to be with Mike. But he wasn't my son and his parents and would never agree in a relationship between Mike and a man who is three times older than him. Sometimes I lost my mental direction: only Mike was
in my head, and nothing else interested me. Were his feelings for me the same as mine?

During this time I walked with my dog to the places he usually hung out. I looked out for Mike whenever I left the house. The weather wasn't good enough to go hiking again this summer. But often I went to the pond where I met the other boys.

Then September came and school went on again. Mike went to a school nearby and I went out with the dog every morning at 7.30 to meet him as he went. From far away he always screamed my name and ran to me, and every day he begged a cigarette from me. I know it's not so good for a twelve year old to be smoking, but I couldn't say no. That is one of my biggest problems: I can't say no if a boy wants something, especially if it was Mike.

One or two times a month he skipped school and stayed the morning with me. Sometimes in the afternoon we went playing billiards. He was always happy if he won the game, and he won every time. I made it easy for him, but he never objected that I let him win.

One time in February as we went home from from billards I began to speak. I had drunk two beers and felt free to speak without shyness. "Mike," I said, "I like you a lot... I'll say more than my own sons. I don't know why, but I do."

"I know," he answered, "I've known it for a long time and I've often asked myself... why?"

"Because you're a handsome boy: you've got nice eyes and you're always smiling. I like the kind of boy you are, I like your jokes and your sorrows, I like your smiling and I like it when you're happy to see me. I love your face, your eyes, your nose your lips, cheeks and chin, I love YOU."

He smiled shyly and looked a little confused. We stopped talking about this and went home. After saying goodbye I thought I scared him and that night I didn't sleep well. Thousands of good and bad thoughts raced trough my head. If you're a BL, there isn't very much time to built a relationship. With a girl of your own age it's more easy, but with an underaged boy, there are a lot of problems. There are his parents, neighbours, other boys and more. I didn't want to cause trouble for him, so I had to be very careful.

How long could I wait for him? Is he old enough to object and understand my feelings for him? Shall I say it straight out and risk losing him? Maybe he's waiting for me and even is to shy to say it. He likes my gentle hands running over his body, he likes me hugging him. But will he like my kisses too? I'm sitting between a rock and a hard place. I can't ask anyone if I'm hurting him or doing harm. How far may I go and where are the borders? I love him so much, if he knew that... Whenever he wants attention, he squeezes my arm, pushes me, puts his fingers in my ears or beard. Then I pull him close to me, hold and hug him, squeeze and tickle my young love. If we are alone, he never resists or tries to move away. Mike enjoys the touching between us.

Last winter, a few days before New Year, we rode by train to buy some rockets and crackers for the big midnight-party. On the way to the shop we talked about our relationship. Mike said that he liked the way it is, but he knew that nobody else must know about our secret. And he was confused about that.

On the way back home his mood was turned 180 degrees. Mike played his game with me. The boy sat on one of my legs, facing me and pressed with his fingers my face in different forms. I held the positions that he put my face in and he enjoyed the funny pull faces that he made. He liked forming my face and playing with his fingers in my beard. He liked the feeling of the strong hair between his smooth fingers. He liked the touchings between us and that makes it doublye hard for me to resist the need to kiss him suddenly. His smiling burns a trail through my soul, a trail of love and pain. When I hug him, smelling the sweet young body, I wish I can hug him forever.

Manuel, a 16yo boy, said to me once that Mike needs a father, a father for himself, a father who has time for him. I'm not being his father. I'm being his friend, his lover. I want him as my loving boy. Since I was fifteen years old I knew the kind of life I wanted to live, but I still don't know if it's 'sick' or not. I don't think it is... I just want to love. What's wrong with that?

Sometimes I wish to be a normal straight man. But I know, I can't be happy this way. Since I was fifteen years old I've tried to resist, to lead a normal life, but the boys always win the game. I've jumped from one girl to another and always it was a boy who showed me that I can't be happy this way.

I saw Mike nearly every day in the morning and often in the evening too. In January the next year, Mike stayed a morning with me while the other kids were at school. We played some computer games and had a good time till noon. Three weeks later he stayed with me again on a schoolday. We watched "Lord of the Flies" and he lay down near beside me. I put my left hand inside his jeans and cupped his genitals outside his briefs.

"Faggot," he smiled, but didn't resist my touches or tried to put my hand away. His little prick was stiff and felt warm in my hand. I thought about getting my hand into his briefs, but I let it be. The video took all his interest and he snuggled near to me. At noon he said that he'd really like to stay longer with me, but that school closed that day at 12.00 and his mother knew that. He was sad leaving me, and I was sad too as I watched him leave.

In the evening Bernie told me that Mike was in trouble because of not going to school that day. His teacher had called his mother on the phone to say that he wasn't there. Next morning I waited for him and he came along, his look down to the trail. "Shit," he only said. I nodded yes.

-"You know?"

- "Yes, Bernie told me yesterday."

He said sadly, "I'm grounded for two weeks now. Someone in my class saw us yesterday and told told the teacher. The teacher called my mother and told about what he heard about you from this skunk. I didn't tell my mother anything about you, I said I stayed in the shopping center for the whole morning. She believed it and didn't ask any more. But next time we'll have to do it another way."

"No," I said, "we'll find another time to stay together, without skipping a school day." I refused to get him in more trouble, and from then on he went to school.

One morning in March. Mike wanted to stay the morning with me again. "You'd better not," I said.

"It's okay," he said, "I told my folks that they shouldn't take any care of me any more."

Bang. Those words of a mouth which was only twelve. That shook me and I began to think more about our relationship. I love him, but I knew that his parents loved him too. I couldn't stand between them and Mike any longer.

That evening I said to him "Mike, it's better we meet not as often as before." Mike didn't understand. I told him that I love him very much and that men aren't allowed to love boys who aren't their sons. He was sad but accepted it wordlessly.

When he left I was very depressed. I knew that everything was broken. That

night I wrote this poem:

Lovely Mike...

Heavy is my heart, like a cold locked chamber,
Heavy it hurts, when I'm sad and remember,
Remember those days wich you stay with me,
Remember this night when you sleep by me.

Big is the pain in my soul and my heart,
Big are the tears because we are apart,
Wish you were here, my son of the sun,
Wish you would say 'come on, we'll have fun!'

Did you ever think about our secret love,
Oh how I need you my boy, I can never get enough,
I know that I hurt you when I said good bye,
I know you are sad and want to ask why.

Have you ever felt the pain of fresh hot steam,
If you'll ever love a boy you will know what I mean,
Has your heart ever felt the tip of sharp steel,

I've lost my love, do you know what I feel?

Since that day I see Mike once or twice a week. We exchange a few words, but it isn't as before any more. There is something cold between us and every time he leaves, I feel a pain in my heart.

A few days ago he asked me if we go hiking this summer again. "Maybe," I answered, but even I don't know if I should do it or not. I love him as much as before, but I'm afraid of what can happen. I'm afraid of it all starting again. And I'm afraid of doing something that he doesn't really want. Maybe it's better to stop this, before I harm him mentally. I don't know how be a perfect lover to him.

What shall I do? Oh, Mike...

  1. This is a true story by a BoyLover which was originally found on the now-defunct fpc.net user pages.