"Aw Mom," he said, sounding more eight than eighteen.
"Now Mikey..."
"Mom, stop calling me Mikey. I told you I'm too old for a little boy's name."
"Very well, Michael..." Mike's mom said smiling at her son.
"Mother!"
"OK Mike, I got it, but you have to give me some time to get used to calling you that."
"You said I wouldn't have to go to Wyoming if I found a job here this summer. Jimmy told me Mr. Lansing told him he's going to hire me."
Mike mentally kicked himself for referring to Jim as Jimmy. Both boys were struggling to grow up as quickly as possible.
"I know, honey, and I wish we didn't have to do this but your Aunt Molly is struggling more than anyone suspected and summer is the most critical time for her. There will come a day when you realize this is what family is about."
"But she's not even related! Not really, anyway."
Mike, apparently, was in a mental kicking mood and offered one to his Uncle Hastings for dying so suddenly last fall. Then he kicked himself even harder, mentally, of course, for being a callous jerk.
"Michael! Don't say such a thing. Hastings was my only brother and Molly was his wife. Like us, they never had much and now she's faced with losing everything. Please say you'll help her."
Mike could no more turn down the plea in his mother's eyes than he could buy her the mansion on a hill she deserved. With servants. Topless, female servants...horny ones...pretty...with great bodies...
Mike shook his head to clear it. Would such intrusive thoughts never go away he wondered? His mother brushed a tear from her eye as she watched her son retreat to his room.
Lying on his bed, Mike began contemplating the pros and cons of spending the summer on a ranch in Wyoming. Or at least he wanted to but there didn't seem to be all that many pros.
He really wanted that pool-cleaning job with Mr. Lansing. Jim had worked there last summer and was full of stories of classmates, college coeds, and even some hot moms sunning themselves in bikinis – or less! Throughout their senior year of high school, Jim had teased Mike unmercifully about the sights he'd seen on pool aprons around town.
Mike was completely jealous of his best friend and continually badgered his buddy to put in a good word with Mr. Lansing. All winter Mike lay naked in his bed masturbating, like he was doing at the moment, thinking about seeing Jessica or Melanie or any of a dozen girls at school Jim claimed wore micro bikinis.
Releasing his semen into the air above his chest, Mike groaned softly as it splashed onto his bare skin. When his heavy breathing finally calmed, he hurried to mop himself dry with a soiled tee shirt from his hamper.
This was to have been his "breakout" summer. At eighteen, Mike was still a virgin. If there were degrees of virginity, Mike would be among the purest. He had never been on a date, never kissed a girl, never seen one naked or even topless. The only things impure about him were his thoughts and those innumerable trysts with his hand.
High school had not been the best of times for Mike, and senior year was the worst. He matured late growing eight inches in the eight months before graduation. Limited family resources, a result of his father's disability, meant his wardrobe lost race after race with his body. For the most part, he looked like some gangly Huck Finn with three inches of bare arm sticking out of his shirt sleeves and pant cuffs high enough to remain dry when fording small streams.
He tried to take the ribbing of classmates good-naturedly, took what pleasure he could in the fact that he wouldn't spend his life at five feet seven inches. Now 6'3" all those features that had been oddly proportioned making him look and feel goofy suddenly fit.
Mike the butterfly has emerged from his chrysalis, he thought as he admired himself in the mirror then immediately chastised himself for such a "girly" analogy. The ugly ducking has become... Ugh! Was his the mind of a six-year-old?
Mike wasn't just adding stature to femur, fibula, and tibia either. For each inch in height, he added half that where it counted most: his cock. Mike knew because he kept precise records.
In September, he measured a rock hard five inches. By Christmas, he was sporting six and a half inch boners. At spring break he was a full eight inches, topping out at a stunning nine, thick inches in May.
His cock was not limited to a growth spurt either; there was also spurt growth. At the beginning of the year, lying in bed jerking off, Mike could hit his collarbone with the first two squirts of his five shot orgasms.
By midyear he could easily fire over his head with four or five shots and orgasms were lasting nine to twelve contractions each.
In May, Mike could blast the wall behind his bed three feet above where he lay. Not wanting to create enormous messes to clean up, he usually pointed his dick straight up shooting cum geysers four feet high before they came splashing onto his bare torso.
Sometimes, he would try to aim his ejaculation so it would land on his face, capturing some on his tongue and mouth. He was flexible enough that, as his cock grew, he was able to get his tongue, and finally, his lips around the head.
While what he did felt great, he never actually succeeded in sucking himself off. He did, however jerk himself off into his own mouth sometimes. He felt perverted, not realizing that these were the things teenage boys either accomplished or attempted.
* * * *
There was only one other passenger on the regional jet that flew Mike into Cheyenne, a man who appeared to be in his fifties and slept most of the way.
Mike guessed the solitary flight attendant to be mid to late twenties and reasonably cute. He stared at her often and she caught him more than once. She too had noticed the tall, lean, good-looking teen as he checked in and boarded her flight.
With the plane virtually empty, she knew she could either go up front with the pilot and co-pilot or flirt with the kid in seat 4A. She chose the latter. The first thing she did was to go into the galley and roll the waistband of her navy-blue skirt over four times so the hem went from the top of the knee to mid-thigh.
"Hi," she said, settling onto the aisle armrest of 6B with her legs facing Mike. "I'm Jen."
"Mike," he said dragging his gaze from her legs to her eyes.
