Michael opened his eyes and quickly gasped in some air. He lie still panting for a moment trying to understand what had happened and where he was. Much to his relief, he soon realised he was alone in his room at the Jackson family estate in Encino. He was lieing flat on his back in bett it was still very dark with the exception of a night light. His wide eye searched about the room for comfort; answers. Did he really just dream that?

His own hand, he discovered, was wrapped tightly around his own manhood which was distressingly hard. He quickly released it and sat up covering his face with both hands.

"Oh my God. What is wrong with me? Why'd I dream that? I didn't mean to! I couldn't help - ." Michael stopped himself and turned over punching his pillows. "I am not gay, " he sagte defiantly. But another voice inside chided him.

Michael could still feel his erection throbbing between his thighs just begging for attention. Where was his underwear? Michael didn't normally sleep in the nude and he certainly knew he'd had them on at bedtime. He looked about and found that his briefs lay crumpled, Alles steht Kopf on the corner of his bed. They had obviously been removed in a hurry.

What could he have been thinking? He was not brought up this way. The thought alarmed Michael as Fragen began swarming Von the masses in his tired head. He curled up in a ball under his warm comforter as though shielding himself from his thoughts.

He had never made Liebe to a woman, but that was simply because he had never found the right one. Right? He wanted to be married first so that when he did make Liebe it would be beautiful and pure and what he had just dreamt was about the most impure thing he could think of! Maybe it was something he ate.

The fact remained, however, that Michael was still quite horny, but for what, he wasn't sure. He wasn't ready to admitt that what he'd just experienced (or thought he had) had turned him on emensly. There must be a cure for this, he thought. And whatever it was he'd find it - in the morning.

Michael slowly rolled onto his back. His manhood was straining against the comforter poking it higher. He slid his hand underneath the sheets and reclaimed himself. Michael quickly heeded to the pleasure, as he was already so aroused. He began moving his body against his grip. Then he slid his other hand beneath where he cupped his testicles.

"Ohhh," he moaned soft and high in the darkness. He couldn't stop now. Not for anything in the world. He squeezed his balls firmly as he twisted his cock up and down in his hand. Thoughts of another man doing this to him drifted lazily to the surface of his mind. He opened his eyes about to panic. Then he shut them tightly hoping no one would know he had thought this. He pulled on himself faster feeling his veins throb beneath his fingers. Yes, he thought defiantly, a sexy guy with...dark hair. And dark eyes! Michael moaned a little. With smooth skin...and soft, full lips.

"Oh...OH...Oh my God...," Michael gasped trying to be quiet. Then he boldly began pushing his perineum. "Uh! God...," he whimpered. Far too excited and feeling so dirty, he moved his fingers to his lips where he began to lick and suck. The movement between his lips felt so good; and they were a bit swollen as well. They always were when he was sexually aroused. He only wished he had something...else to suck on.

"Ummm," he moaned against his finger. Then he had an idea. Michael moved his hand back under the covers and spread his legs. He gently eased a finger into hmself. It didn't hurt, but he was tight. "Oooo," he crooned.

Michael continued to masterbate and Suchen depper inside himself for that pleasuring spot he'd felt in his dream. He licked his full lips and let the thoughts of the sexy, dark-haired guy overtake him.

"Ohhh!" Yes, a hot, sex-stud that would f*** him so hard. "Oh my God! Ah!" Michael cried so turned on and yet so shocked Von his amazingly dirty thoughts. All feelings of guilt had vanished for the time being allowing Michael to make peace with his sexual fantasies.

His cock throbbed with every pumpe and his so-tight balls bounced with every twist of his fist. Michael bit his lip and his toes pointed into the mattress as he pressed his finger deep and hard upwards and a wave of pleasure washed over his trembling body.

"Uh! OH! OH!...Oh my God! Yeah!" He felt as though he'd struck Gold between his legs. Michael was shamelessly envisioning the dark-haired guy f***ing him violently as he thrashed about in bed.

"OH! OH!...Yeah!..Uh!...Ahhh!," he shrieked as he watched his hot come splash up his chest and run down his hands. His orgasm was so sweet and juicy. "Ohh my God...," he moaned quietly now. Michael felt like little stars were popping out behind his eyes. He lay there Frozen in his moment. He couldn't ever remember coming so hard before.

Michael slipped his finger from himself and lay back gasping heavily; a damp curl hung exhausted across his nose. Reality was about to set in and he felt it creeping up on him.

"Oh", he began to fret, "oh no, I can't be...but I didn't want this". Michael was coming out of his sexual euphoria and wondering what he should do. "I can't tell anybody. Maybe if I ignore it it'll go away on it's own. Maybe as long as I don't act on it I won't go to Hell. Does masterbation count though? Oh, geez."

He rolled over to reach the tissues on the night stand. He sat up and cleaned himself off and then lay down again. Boy, that sure had relaxed him, though. Michael slipped his underwear back on along with a pair of sweatpants. For some reason this made him feel safer - and a little less guilty. He nestled himself snuggly under his comforter and drifted back to sleep trying to keep the image of the dark-haired guy from his mind. For one, he did not want to go to Hell, and two, that guy was Mark.