Dylans Freshman Year

DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR

Chapter 14

by Donny Mumford

This will be my last work shift at Stop & Shop until after spring break. At the moment I'm in our Jeep on my way to Rite Aid pharmacy, then I'll go on to Stop & Shop. While driving I've got two things on my mind; one, does Alan Snyder really intend fucking me tonight, and two, am I going to actually let him do it if he tries? That's two parts of the first thing on my mind, the second thing on my mind is my spring break date with Willie Worthington, which is suppose to be a five day vacation in Key West, Florida.... some date! First things first: it's Alan who's got my immediate attention. I'm wondering if my sexual experience with Philip at the House Of Blues totally fulfills my curiosity about sex with someone older, and will having sex with Alan tell me anything new? I mean, that was the initial idea: see if sex with a mature, macho individual like Alan is noticeably different than having sex with cute boys my own age. The sex I experienced with Philip was hot while it was happening, but not something I look back on and get a boner over. Plus, I'm not sure how much of the heat was real; a lot of it may have been the vodka and marijuana I ingested, and in retrospect I'd have to say that night was not a particularly memorable experience. Certainly not one I'd want to do again. Oh sure, Philip was very different from anyone I've had any kind of sex with before, but he just doesn't do it for me like my gay peers do it for me. With that in mind, why do I need to experiment further with Alan? Oh man, who am I kidding? I know why, it's because he's sexy, that's why. I admit it's a mystery to me why he is, but he just is. Is it his whiskers, his abundant body hair, his clueless misinterpretation of the world around him, what? I mean, body hair normally is a sexual turn-off for me, and Alan's got this high opinion of himself which has led to his totally misreading of my interest in him; okay, not totally, I'm intrigued, but he's not my idol like he thinks he is. Actually, I'm lucky he does misread me or I'd probably get fired. And what's with Alan choosing that scabby Franklin as his boyfriend? Plus, he brags about Franklin being so desirable when clearly the man's scruffy and unattractive. Alan's judgment is questionable, to put it mildly. Of course, I'm leaving myself exposed a little with that 'questionable judgment' remark because I could be criticized for thinking Alan is hot... everyone I know thinks the opposite, or worse.

Well, here I am at Rite Aid pharmacy, it's only a half mile down from the college. Reason I'm here? Well, to buy condoms, of course... and that's a pretty good indicator that I've made up my subconscious mind to allow Alan to fuck me, so why am I still pondering it? Hmmm, I'm over-sexed, I know that that but is it my fault? I was born this way! Inside the pharmacy I'm thinking, "Oh boy, buying condoms should be fun... NOT!" Actually, I've bought condoms here once before and it was no big deal; well, except all the cashiers here are middle age women and they invariably look up with a smirk on their face when they see a young guy buying condoms. Who cares though, with a college just up the street this place probably sells a lot of them. Rite Aid certainly isn't shy about displaying a huge selection of condoms, and right out in the open too. Not at all like condom sales in the dark ages... the sixties and seventies. At least that's the way they're portrayed in movies depicting that time in the world. Oh man, so many to choose from. I probably should use them more often, but for now... hmmmm, which one should I buy? I don't see the five dollar ones Philip used on me so how 'bout I get these latex Trojan Ecstasy, Fire and Ice, lubricated ones. A brand name every kid in the world knows, Trojan, and they're not too expensive either. I grab a three-pack, the smallest quantity they have for sale, and head for the cashier.

There will be none of that nonsense of me buying ten items I don't need just to cover-up the condom purchase, that's been so 'overdone' in old-time, coming of age movies from the past... it's a yawner anymore for sure... come on, we're well into the twenty-first century! Naturally, just as I get in line two girls my age step right behind me. Christ, it couldn't happen that I just walk up and pay, could it? Oh no, I need to wait in line until half the girls from Merrimack college arrive to watch me buy these damn condoms. So, what the hell, as much as I wanted to be cool about this, I'm slightly flustered and when it's my turn at the register I do grab a comb and a pack of gum to sort of downplay the Trojans. I also make an unfortunate gulping noise in my throat as I'm putting my purchases on the counter which attracts everyones attention. I'm frowning and royally pissed-off that this isn't going as smoothly as I expected. The lady rings up the comb and gum, then looks up at me as she's examines the condoms... I glare back at her like, "Yeah, they're condoms! What about it?" as I'm hearing snickers from the girls behind me. I swear to god, one of these days I'm going to kill somebody if they don't start minding their own fuckin' business. The cashier asks, "Did ya notice the price, son, I can't scan the barcode because it's scratched." There must be five-fucking-thousand packages of condoms down there and I pick the one with a scratched barcode! Looking down and reaching for the condom packet, I mutter, "I'll get another one," she says, "No, no, wait... I've already started ringing up your order," and she picks up a phone for the pharmacy's address system, "Charles, price check! Aisle nine." From somewhere, I hear, "Okay, whaddaya got?" and literally everyone in the pharmacy stops what they're doing and stares at me... that's what it feels like anyway. The woman at the register holds the packet of condoms up to the light, and loudly says, "Um, let's see, it's a three-pack of lubricated Trojan Ecstasy condoms!" The heat rises from my neck as more snickering comes from the girls behind me. I'm frozen in place and can't make myself turn around to see who's doing all the snickering. Charles is now visible as he stands in an aisle way down from where we are; he's a man about as old as Philip. Squinting, he peers down the long aisle at the cashier who's holding the condom packet up. The man strains his eyes, then yells back, "Which Ecstasy type is it?" Over the loud speaker, the cashier goes, "It says, 'Fire & Rain'," and then she says to someone over my shoulder, "Whatever that has to do with it," and there's more snickering... it's a damn good thing we're not allowed to carry guns like you were able to in the old west or I might have opened fire. Charles yells back, "Are they the ribbed ones?" and the cashier says, "Yeah, ribbed and lubricated!" At that I actually burst out laughing myself, and so do the girls and others behind me, this is so far over the top it's ridiculous! One of the girls pokes me in the back, asking, "Whatcha doing later on, hot stuff?" and I do turn around now, and hear a girls voice further back mutter, "Cute!" The girl who poked me is wearing a Merrimack baseball cap; she's cool enough about it, so I decide not to kill her. Indicating the packet on the counter, which Charles informs the cashier is $2.99 plus tax, I go, "Oh, these? They're for my big brother," and proceed into a series of fake coughs. After finally paying, I'm walking out thinking, "Could that have been a bigger pain in the ass?!" I'm betting that those old movies about boys buying condoms, or 'rubbers' as they were called back then, never had a scene as blatantly absurd as the one I just suffered through. I wonder if that cashier does that same routine with every kid buying condoms? Hmmm, it'll sure slow down sales if she does 'cause I'm sure as shit never buying them there again. Wow! That was random!

It's a three minute ride from Rite Aid to Stop & Shop, so I arrive in plenty of time to check-in and then go outside for a smoke before my shift begins. 'Never start a shift even one second before it's scheduled to start!'", that's the bag-boy's motto. I'm sitting on the bench smoking, enjoying the nicer weather that's descended upon North Andover lately, a far cry from a few months back when snow was piled twenty feet high at some spots on the campus parking lots. Exhaling a lot of cigarette smoke, grinning about my hard-to-believe condom experience, when around the corner walks Cory Dunlevy. Ah ha, with a really hot-looking short haircut; his blond curly hair so short most of the curl is gone. His awesome head of hair was the first thing I notice when I met him. It's his best feature actually, although I discovered he has a killer smile too, one that he rarely uses, and he also has an awesome ass that's made even more obvious because of his diminutive stature. The kid's so small it's hard to believe he works here. Initially I thought Cory couldn't be a senior in high school, but yet he is. Not a cute kid like ya might think, him being so small and all... plus, he's got a bit of an edge to him, especially if he don't know you. Cory stops ten feet from me and stares hard at my cigarette, then at me. I say, "Yo, Cory," and drop my smoke, then step on it 'cause Cory has an aversion to cigarette smoke; some kind of health issue. He mutters, "Thanks," nodding at the cigarette butt I'd just squashed-out, and I go, "No problem, how's it going?" meaning his job here at Stop & Shop. I haven't seen him since that first day a week or so ago. He hesitates sitting down, then does, and says, "It's okay, I guess." Not a real chatty kid. I ask, "You getting along with Mr. Snyder, er... Alan, okay." He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes, asking, "You're mocking him with that 'mister' shit, aren't you?" I shrug, muttering, "Sometimes... I don't know, I wish I never started it to be honest with ya." He goes, "Yeah, I know what ya mean... you're sorta stuck with it now. Alan's been alright so far, I stay clear of him as much as possible though because... you know." Cory offers me a piece of Juicy Fruit gum and I take a stick as he says, "Some of the guys here are cool enough." Chewing the gum, which is yum, I go, "Oh yeah, who?" He shrugs, then says, "Um, I like Sara Pinter and Diana from produce the best... and you too," and he pulls his eyebrows together as he said, "you too", like he's embarrassed to admit it. He was a real hardass the first time I met him, but it's because he has a chip on his shoulder due to the fact he's so small and poor, and stuff like that... that's my guess anyway. At least he's got a mother who's working, apparently doing the best she can for Cory and his sisters, which is unlike Connor's mother, for example; and, where the fuck are all the fathers, anyway? I guess someone could ask the same of Chubby and me except we know where our biological fathers are, and they both have a good excuse for not being here. Chubby's dad died of a brain aneurysm when Chubby was a baby, and mine never knew about me because my mom never told him... he's a guy in the Armed Forces who was just passing through. Hmmm, he must have been a cute son-of-a-bitch though... heh heh. I'm over it, I got over it a long, long time ago. I ask Cory, "If ya don't mind me asking, where's your dad?" Cory looks right in my face, answering matter of factly, "In jail, ten-to-fourteen years for manslaughter." Well, I'm so frigin' happy I asked that question! I mumble, "Sorry," and he goes, "Fuck it! Some people have it easier than others, that's all. We're not as bad off as some." I'm like, " I guess," as I'm thinking, "Yeah, the person your father killed probably ain't having a very good day either," but that's not Cory's fault.

Not being able to think of anything to say in this awkward silence, I make a repetitive clicking sound in my mouth while nervously tapping my foot before realizing it's uber annoying and stop, after which Cory looks over at me, mumbling, "Thank God!" and then, "Hey, do you ever go bowling?" Happy for a neutral topic of conversation, I say, "Yep, I've been a couple dozen times, but not recently." He asks, "Do you do ten pins or candlepins?" and I'm like, "Mostly candlepins, but ten pins are fun too. Ya wanna go sometimes?" He brightens then, almost showing his hot smile, and says, "Sure, that's cool, yeah... um, when?" I'm thinking that I see what's happening here? Cory's homophobic, probably the victim of someone's ignorant adult influence on him, stereotyping gay people or something. I mean, I'm gay, although Cory doesn't know it, and he likes me, so maybe I'll show him a gay kid can be just like him in many ways, ya know? And, maybe, just maybe, I'll convert one homophobe into a 'diversity' fanatic... ha ha. Probably not, but why not try to do a good deed. I say, "It'll need to be before Merrimack's spring break, and since I'm gonna be home for Easter weekend, that leaves next Monday thru Thursday... one of those days." We compare our schedules for school and work, then settle on next Tuesday at three o'clock for candlepin bowling at the Haverhill Lanes; I'll pick him up. Robby's got a baseball game that day and then who knows what he and that turd Ryan Wilcox will be up to, so I'll go bowling, what the hell! Cory's likable enough although he seems lonely and is usually projecting kind of a hangdog personality. I wonder if kids pick on him at school... hell, they probably do 'cause he's vulnerable and teenagers can be such awful pricks! Good thing my friends are the exception to that rule... ha ha. I'm in a pretty good mood, but there's just this hint of nervousness in the back of my mind about Alan fucking me, ya know?... so Cory's been a nice diversion. As we're walking side by side into Stop & Shop, I ask Cory, "Ya know what the best thing about bowling is?" and Cory says, "Yeah, you can't break anything there," and I go, "Exactly!" He does smile this time; we bump fists and I head for the office to get my assignment for my work shift; he goes back to work. That smile is cute with his two front teeth just slightly longer than the others... makes him look like a little kid, the dimples are rockin' too.

Gawking at the assignment chart I see there's an asterisk next to my name, which is a first. Checking the notation at the bottom, to wit, "Newman to the loading dock...." I'm guessing Alan hasn't forgotten about us working together and that probably means I'm gonna get fucked tonight, and that thought makes me take a deep breath and grope myself quickly. I'm trying to make like, "No big deal," but my balls are tightening-up and I need to take two more deep breaths... obviously it is a big deal and I'm both nervous and excited about it. The things I get myself into! And, what the fuck, I thought Alan was straight so it's not like I planned this long- range or anything; it just happened. No one can understand how I could have an infatuation with Alan in the first place, and for the most part you can add my name to that list too because I don't know why he excites me sexually either, but he does. I don't even like him very much, and his so-called boyfriend is distinctly unattractive on any number of fronts. Oh fuck, it's like Alan's my fetish, I don't get it, but there it is. As soon as I swing open the loading dock door and see Alan, my dick firms up and I grope my crotch again, and get pissed-off at myself for having so little self control around him. He's pushing a dolly piled with boxes to the edge of the loading dock where a Stop & Shop van is parked. Alan's body is kind of boxy, not slim and tall like Robby's. His recently buzzed hair isn't particularly cool either; there's no distinctive outlining with the haircut, and his hairline is a widow's peak, which isn't good; straight across the forehead is the coolest kind of hairline, especially for real short hair styles. There's nothing special about his looks either, except his complexion is clear and youthful, but that's no big surprise since he's only twenty-one years old. On his face is ten days worth of whiskers... I know damn well his whiskers play a part in my attraction to him, they're curly and soft and I like them best when he's let them go for a month or so. Seeing Alan, I'm glad I bought the condoms, and even though I barely like him as a person my dick doesn't care about that; it wants to bone up and fire off some spunk. Alan looks up and motions for me to get over there so I jog over, saying, "Hi, Mr. Snyder, we loading those boxes in the van?" He goes, "Duh! You're brilliant, Newman!" I guess I got sort of a hurt expression on my face because he holds up a hand, saying, "Sorry for snapping at you, but this has been a bad start to my shift. These boxes," as he's pointing at the ones on the dolly, "should be at the Metheun location, and our boxes were sent to my apartment." I frown, and ask, "What?" Alan mutters, "By accident I put my apartment address on the sticker for the inventory list, and Rolly is pissed-off at me now!" I go, "Ah, man... that's.... huh," 'cause I don't know what to say. Rolly North is the floor manager, Alan's boss. Alan says, "Start loading these boxes into the van while I check on the other bag-boys 'cause some of the retirees aren't working out and I'm gonna need to dump a few to get the attention of the others." I'm looking at him blankly, feeling bad for the old guys and women who shouldn't need to do this kind of work in the first place. Alan's being officious again as he pretends to study a list on a clipboard, then he looks up, and says to me, "There just might be a promotion in this for you, Newman, if you keep up the good work," and he nods at me. Not knowing what the fuck he's talking about, I mumble, "Thanks, Mr. Snyder."

He leaves me alone on the dock and after a second of contemplation I begin lifting the boxes off the dolly and carrying them into the van, wondering if he's serious about a promotion 'cause I could use the extra money. Then it hits me: Alan's only one step up the chain of command from me! How's he gonna promote me, make me his peer? Oh, I'm so sure... what a crock! After fifteen minutes of lifting I'm sweating, these boxes are heavy and it hits me how weird it is that I'm doing this mundane work, and Alan's off doing something with the other bag-boys while both of us are expecting that we'll be doing gay sexual intercourse a little later. And, we hardly know each other... so it's weird alright, and I'm feeling funny about it too, like I don't want to do it. I got that way for a while with Philip too, but booze was involved then and it clouded my judgment. What's it gonna be tonight? Damn! My dick feels heavy and my heart's beating a little faster and so I gotta admit I want to do it; I wish I didn't, but I do. And now I'm getting a hardon just acknowledging that fact to myself... oh boy am I sex crazy or what?! Alan returns as I'm having that thought, sees I'm loading the last carton into the van and nods his head in approval. He watches me push the dolly back to its' spot on the loading dock, then he strips some paper towels off a roll and motions for me to come to him. I walk over wondering what's up now, and he says, "Stand still!" and wipes the sweat from my face with a paper towel, then over the top of my head and down to the back of my neck, muttering, "You perspire heavily, just like Franklin." He does everything roughly, like he's annoyed that he needs to do it. Then he says, "We'll unload these boxes in the Metheun store, then drive to my apartment to pick-up the boxes that were UPS'd there by mistake. When they're loaded in the van we'll take a fifteen or twenty minute break and I'll mentor you. I want to show you I'm just like anybody else, no better and no worse. You've got a hero-worship crush on me because you've built me up in your mind, like I did with Franklin, and I want to help you tear that image down some, the way Franklin helped me see him for who he is." I'm thinking, "Why the fuck am I doing this?"

Alan sees some sweat breaking out on my forehead again so this time with his bare hand he wipes across my forehead and then up and over the top of my head, getting the damp hairs all standing up. The palm of his hand is surprisingly plump and soft. For a minute or so he seems to be studying me with that normal confused expression on his face, the one I see on him so often. His little round wire-rimmed eyeglasses shiny with the last of today's sunshine, then he starts talking again, "When I'm with Franklin, I do what I'm told... you'll do the same when you're with me. Do you have any problem with that?" Still shocked that I'm going to go through with this, I wheeze out, "Na, no, Mr. Snyder." He looks around and sees no one, then cups behind my head and pulls my face to his for one of his kisses. A wet, very active kiss, using those incredibly sexy rosy bow-shaped lips of his, his tongue seemingly fully inside my mouth, his whiskers covering my chin and my nose and half my cheeks on either side of my face. His other hand cups under my ass and almost lifts me off the loading dock. Thirty seconds of this and my lap is tented out, my boner poking Alan's thigh. He backs away, seemingly unaffected by the kiss, and says, "I'm trying, Newman, but you just don't do it for me. By the way, did you get the condoms?" As he asks the question he's holding out his hand, as calm as you please. Saliva's drooling all around my mouth and dripping off my chin as I nod my head, wiping my forefinger under my nose and pulling at the front of my pants trying to get my boner sideways in my jockey shorts. He makes a motion with his hand, saying, "The condoms, Newman!" My hand goes inside my pocket to pull out the package of Trojans and pass them to him. He's like, "Yeah, these are okay," then reads the label, and adds, "Good, they're lubricated. We won't need all three though... don't get your hopes up." I'm still puffing-out panting-bursts of air, trying to get my breathing to come back to normal. "Okay, get in the passenger side of the van and use the seatbelt!" he orders as he's walking around to the driver's side. How could that kiss not have affected him???

It's only a twelve minute ride before we're pulling into the Mutheun Stop & Shop. Alan parks at their loading dock and we get out. He lights a Winston 100 saying, "Unload the boxes right near the door. There doesn't seem to be a dolly so you'll need to carry each box about twenty feet or so... sorry 'bout that." I start unloading as Alan wanders around the side of the building. He's a lazy SOB, but I already knew that. As I'm unloading I ponder the oddity of human sexuality. There's not only heterosexuals, homosexuals, but also bisexuals and something called asexuality where neither sex attracts sexual interest for the unfortunate individuals afflicted with that malady. Then there's preference within the first three types: some are attracted to older sex partners, some to younger, some prefer skinny, some full figured, redheads or dark hair, blonds and even bald heads, and on and on and on it goes. Then there's the unlimited number of fetishes that sexually stimulate individuals whether they're straight, bi, or gay. Chubby has a foot fetish, Dodger has a haircut fetish, Willie has a 'panties' fetish, although that may be just copying Larry... there are too many fetishes to comprehend. I don't think Robby has a special fetish, him and me seem to be pretty much hooked on gay sex though, so maybe that's our fetish. Anyway, it's obvious Alan prefers much older man while I prefer boys in my peer group, which Alan basically does qualify for because he's twenty-one, except that's the only thing he has in common with any of the other boys I've been infatuated with. The others are slim, cute and hot to trot with me. Alan's none of those things, plus he's got a hairy body and whiskers which are no-no's ninety-nine percent of the time with me. It's baffling as hell, but there's no sense fooling myself; I think Alan's sexually attractive... he's hot, and I can't figure it out.

I'm pooped by the time the boxes are where they need to be. When Alan returns I'm sitting on the edge of the loading dock, my feet dangling over the edge as I smoke a cigarette. "Good, you're done. Here, I brought you a canned tonic," and as Alan hands me a cold Pepsi, I'm thinking, "Canned tonic? What the fuck...?" but gratefully chug a third of the can, the cold sweet beverage feels good on my dry throat. "Thanks, Alan," I mumble, and he grumpily replies, "Get in the van," very officious, as usual. He starts up the van, explaining things to me slowly, as if I'm the dull one, "After you've loaded the van with North Andover Stop & Shop's uniforms, we'll have twenty minute for mentoring, at the most. We'll undress in my bedroom, keeping everything neat! Then I'll do the mentoring in the bathroom because your ejaculations are more easily cleaned off the tile floor than off the carpen in my bedroom. Please fold each item of clothing neatly, I'm an extreme anal retentive, especially where my home, is concerned." Hmmm, I'm thinking that anal thing sounds interesting, so I ask, "What's the anal thing all about?" and he says, "It's about being obsessively organized... neatness is paramount." I ask, "Um, are you talking about sex?" and Alan's like, "Mostly I'm talking about neatness, not leaving things disheveled." I still don't get it, but don't want to admit it, so I go, "You sure don't sound like a high school drop out." He straightens his back, pompously saying, "I could pass the GED test for my HSED like that," as he snaps his fingers, "If I wanted to, but I'm pissed-off at the system and reject their equivalency program. Most of my knowledge about my anal retentiveness comes from studying on-line, especially with Wikipedia." I go, "Huh," because much of what he just said doesn't make any fucking sense to me, but I don't want to look like a moron for asking, and just for the

record, I do know what Wikipedia is! He says, "We won't have much time for foreplay, but I'll give you a few affectionate kisses and maybe finger fuck your asshole a little bit too. You're easily aroused as I've discovered the few times I've mentored you." Okay, he's not using the word 'mentoring' correctly; he means a form of sexual interaction when he says 'mentoring', which pretty much is the whole story of my last mentor, carl, too. Not that I'm complaining... just saying.

We're parking at Alan's apartment complex as he's finishing his instructions, "You'll need to give me oral sex to get me erect, although I'm sure you'll be erect yourself almost from the start." Then he turns to me, and asks, "By the way, what do you consider my biggest turn-on for you? What is it about me you're most sexually excited about?" Well, I almost burst a blood vessel leaning forward against the dashboard, turning a guffaw into a cough, my face red, the vein at my temple ticking. What an idiot! Who would ask something like that? I do a follow-up cough as he pats my pack, then say, "I really don't know, Alan... you fascinate me, that's all I know." He squeezes my neck, smiling; then, as we're getting out of the van, he says, "Franklin's hit the nail on the head, you're a cutie alright. Not our type, but I bet you've given a lot of gay boy's wet dream... heh heh." He insists I load the van before we can take a break for the mentoring, and while I'd doing the loading he goes into his apartment to, "Make sure it's neat enough for company." Naturally, Alan hasn't lifted a single box so I'm not sure what he's taking a 'break' from, but he's my boss so I do what I'm told. As I'm doing it, the thought of him asking me about his sexiest feature turns from being ridiculous to funny, to kind of sexy. I mean, to me, Alan's uniqueness is part of the attraction, even if his uniqueness might qualify as weirdness. The rest of my interest in him might be as simple as his great lips, or hot ass, or mature, macho ways.. they're the things intriguing me. I still don't know for sure, but damn, he's got me wanting it... and he's not even trying; he's hardly even interested in me. Maybe that's part of it too, he's sincerely not interested in me sexually. The nerve!!

The van's loaded and ready to go, but no Alan, so I light another cigarette and check out my surroundings. It's a fairly small, brick apartment complex of maybe thirty units built forty or fifty years ago. Nice landscaping and well maintained parking lot... hee hee, I guess Alan wouldn't have it any other way. He reappears just as I'm finishing my smoke, "Okay, Newman, lets go on up now and I'll do the procedure." Jesus, it's like I'm at the doctors having a blood test or something. Everything Alan does, no matter how stupid, has this feel of professionalism about it, Alan's version of professionalism. There's very little humor or good feelings, it's more like doing things by the numbers; it sure don't seem like we're going up to his apartment to get laid. Alan's very business like as he unlocks the door, saying, "I did a quick inspection of the bathroom and it's in pristine condition, which is the condition I want it in again before we leave. Franklin doesn't relate to my anal retentive personality, but he tolerates it just fine. He's flexible like that, but he does prefer his place to mine when we're into each other, if you get my drift." His apartment is extremely neat, but spartan as well; very few furnishings. I keep forgetting that Alan is only twenty-one years old and works for an hourly wage at Stop & Shop... he doesn't have much money to buy a lot of stuff, but what he does have is antiseptic clean. As he steps out of his footwear, he says, "Take off your sneakers, Newman, and follow me." It's a very small apartment: living room, small kitchen and a small bedroom. The small bathroom is off the short hallway between the small kitchen and small bedroom. "Undress carefully and fold your things neatly on the bed. Everything comes off." Alan begins undressing and each piece is hung on hangers or folded incredibly neatly... I try to fold mine like Alan's doing as I silently ask myself, for the hundredth time, "Why are you doing this?" and I get the same answer I always get, "I don't know exactly, it's just that Alan's hot!"

Standing in his bedroom naked, I can't take my eyes off Alan's hairy body. I'd be humiliated if I was that hairy but Alan seems to consider it a badge of masculinity, or maybe he just has a 'thing' for body hair. Whatever, he does a lot of self fondling, or if you prefer the technical terminology, plays with himself a lot. When he's not playing with his cock and balls he'll rub the palm of his hand over his forearms, or over his calves when sitting with his legs crossed. Always running his fingers through his body hair and that should be making me want to puke, but instead I want to do it too. There must be a mysterious combination of things that strike me just right about Alan Snyder, and I'd love to know what they are. "Into the bathroom now," instructs Alan, and we pad out of the bedroom and into the bathroom buck naked, like it's the most normal thing in the world. "We have time for a few quick mouth to mouth kisses which should loosen you up. I can see you're filled with excited anticipation and I'm happy for you, but it's not healthy for a boy your age to fixate on an older man like myself when there's no hope for a relationship between us. It was different between Franklin and me, but he still needed to mentor me." All of a sudden the thought pops into my head that this can't be real, and I ask, "Do you really mean everything you say, or are you having a little fun with me? It's okay either way 'cause I'm intrigued with you, but I'd like to know if this is all sort of a put on." Alan says, "You're too young to understand, but..." and I interrupt with, "Two years, you're two years older then me; that all... two years!" He shakes his head slowly like I just don't get it, and says, "Yes, two years by the calendar, but in here," and he's tapping his head, "in my brain I'm light years older than you." Now I need to give a passing thought that he just might be crazy, except there's so many things he does at work, and even here maintaining his own home, that would indicate he's not. He's wildly eccentric though. I say, "Yes, Mr. Snyder," because if I'm honest about it, frankly he does makes me feel much younger than him; much more then just two years, so I'll just go along with his timetable and see what happens.

"We all set?" he asks with a nice smile, a rare nice smile that adds so much humanity to him, making him seem nice instead of seeming like a robot. When he kisses he's no robot, and that's what he does now. He puts his hairy arms around my neck and gently pulls my hairless body against his hairy one, naked crotch to naked crotch, and his mouth covers mine for one of his unbelievable sexy kisses. My body against Alan from head to toe with his body hair covering the front half of my body and his whiskers surrounding my face; it's a situation that brings lots of erectile fluid into my penis causing an almost instant boner... a boner that stretches and stretches as his tongue dominates my mouth and his lips suck my tongue and my lips. His kissing is similar to the way he'd go about eating my mouth and everything that's in it, if that's something he wanted to do. It's awesomely different from what I'm used to and very sexy in it's peculiar way, but I need to keep my eyes closed because he's not real good looking. My arms are around his stocky square torso running up and down his sides, my fingers on his back, every part of my arms and fingers playing in Alan's body hair. He once again has a slight case of BO which I believe is because he's into 'natural' everything, no deodorants or the like. His kiss last less than a minute but has my cock so hard I'm afraid to touch it. When he steps back it's pointing at my chin, wet at the pee slit. Alan reaches over and takes it in his fist, as I go, "Whoa! Oh..." He says, "You're not shy, Newman... don't pretend to be. You told me about all the boys you have sex with so I know you're comfortable with this or I wouldn't have proceeded this quickly with you." He strokes my boner a few time, the foreskin going on and off the stiff head of my cock, then he drops it, saying, "That's the prettiest penis I've ever seen and, like I told you before, I like the shaved pubic area... like it on you, I mean. You're quite special, you know? Almost a freak of nature in some ways; and I don't mean in bad ways, Dylan." I'm still trying to get it together from that wildly sexy make-out when he says, "One more kiss, then you do oral sex on me and then I'll fuck you. We have a full fifteen minutes left on break." I squint my eyes, thinking, "He's gotta be putting me on!" By the time he breaks from our last hairy make-out session I'm on the very brink of blowing my load spontaneously, which reminds me of Willie who used to make me do that regularly. Who's the better make-out artist, Alan or Willie? They're definitely the two finalist, although almost totally different in their approach. Robby's make-out is of course uber hot, but it's more because I'm in love with him than his technique.

Still not even chubbed-up a little bit, Alan steps back and absently plays with himself, saying, "That was very enjoyable, Dylan... did you notice I'm calling you, Dylan, now?" I say, "Yes, thanks, Mr. Snyder," and he adds, "You're welcome, I'm showing you a little love with that, huh!" and he's raising his eyebrows like he's proud of himself for bringing it down to my level, or who the fuck knows what he's thinking. It's almost impossible to believe there's only two years difference between us, we simply shouldn't be this different. He very well may be from another solar system actually, but whatever, he's still sexy to me." Playfully putting his arm around my shoulders, the hair tickling, but it's becoming a familiar feeling by now, Alan jostles me around like I'm a rag doll for ten seconds and he actually giggles while he's doing it. His body doesn't appear to be in great shape, but he seems quite strong and I've felt some nice definition under the hairy exterior. As he jostles me I'm trying for a good-natured grin, but his mild BO is floating in the air a little more now so I wrinkle my nose while forcing my grin. He stops the jostling, and says, "Wish we had more time so I could show you how Franklin and I goof on each other. Yes, I said, "goof" just like you kids do." During the jostling my boner's retreated from it's hard-as-stone condition so I stroke it a few times. Except for a few strokes of it Alan's ignored my boner completely, as if me having a constant boner is expected. He's pointing in front of himself now, indicating that I should get on my knees there, "You'll do the oral sex now. I'll be deep throating you, do you know what that is?" I get on my knees, mumbling, "Sure, I've done it a couple of times," and Alan ruffles my hair, shaking his head like he's amazed, muttering, "You kids are starting younger and younger these days." That's such an incongruous remark I blurt out a laugh, which he ignores. He holds his cock out to me saying, "Suck on the head until it's stiff enough to go down your throat." He tells me that as if he's instructing me how to stack the shopping carts at work. For me I'm expecting this is to be sexy, but it seems Alan sees it more like 'teaching'. I don't know, but I'm starting to think Alan's naivete is kinda likable, and this is the first time I've thought about 'liking' Alan; up till now it's been all about how sexy I think he is. It's been all about a game I'm playing with him and now I'm not feeling too good about myself for toying with him like I've been doing for the better parts of three semesters now.

Taking his cock between my fingers I guide it into my mouth and tongue it. There's no taste and no smell; his noticeable body odor is confined to underarms, and it's not so strong as to be offensive. As a matter of fact, it adds to the overall macho-man aura of Alan... the Alan of my game; I don't really have a handle on what the real Alan's all about. I don't want to feel sorry for him, although that thought is at the back of my mind. It's important I keep the image of an older man, like Alan feels he is, who's confidently mentoring an underling out of the goodness of his heart, and therefore is feeling good about himself... happy he can help me overcome my idolizing of him. If I think of Alan like that, I'll be better able to enjoy this unique experience on some sort of weird sexual level. Thinking of Alan as a victim makes me feel bad for him.

Concentrating on my task of getting his dick stiff I rub it against the inside of my cheeks and lick it with my tongue. Alan isn't easily stimulated but, as he's said, he's into older men not kids like me. If Franklin were doing this Alan would probably be up on his toes moaning and groaning with pleasure. Ain't it weird how that works?! Alan's pubic bush is deep making his dick look short but I feel down to the root of his shaft, through his pubic hairs, and know it's about a five inch penis, maybe a tad longer. It's thick with a bulbous head, decent looking and definitely youthful looking too; the cock of a twenty-one year old. It's better if I remind myself of that from time to time. As I feel his cock begin to stiffen up, he says, "That's feeling real good, Dylan. Nice! Would you use your free hand to rub up and down my legs now? I like that." So I rub his calf, the leg hairs running through my fingers feel soft and are not really bothering me, but they're not a turn-on either. He goes, "Not roughly, gently... begin near my crotch and ruffle the hairs lightly down the back of my thigh, then down my calf until you rub against the hairs on the top of my foot, then up the front of my leg all the way until you can cup my scrotum and gently pull the hairs there, then around and down the back of my leg again." As I'm trying to follow his instructions, while at the same time, continuing to suck his cock, he adds, "Franklin says I've got a huge fetish for my own hairy body, and I believe he's right. Oohh, that feels so good, Dylan." As soon as I begin rubbing the hairs on his leg his cock tightens-up quickly. Funny that he doesn't see anything unusual about having a fetish for himself... I never heard of that before. You'd think he'd keep that information to himself, but he seems proud of it. I guess we all cope with life the best we can... more power to him. When I've rubbed down the back of his leg and up the front, I lift his bag of balls and then pull on a fistful of hair at the bottom; he makes a hissing sound, then says, "Pull a little harder next time, okay?" and I mutter around his growing cock, "Urkay", sucking his penis into a wooden pole.

With a boner hard enough for just about anything, Alan reaches behind my head with both hands and pulls my face against his belly... pubic hairs cover my face as his boner plugs past my gag reflex area into my throat, then he pulls my head against him a little more and I feel the head of his cock go down my throat another half inch. "Swallow a few times, if you can, Dylan." I can't swallow very well but my throat muscles try and his cock gets a tiny massage. Now, keeping my nose tight against him he begins doing little humps with his hips, fucking my throat with two inch thrusts. I'm doing his leg rubs with both hands now and the feeling of being totally dominated descends on me as my cock flattens up against my belly as hard as Alan's is in my throat. He pulls his up and out so I can breathe, as he's muttering, "Feels good...," meaning his cock is feeling good, and then again that fat cock goes down my throat and the little hip thrusts follow.

I take a hand away from Alan's leg to stroke my boner and all thoughts of analyzing Alan are forgotten for the moment so I can concentrate on becoming highly aroused. When he pulls his boner out of my throat this time, precum drools onto my tongue as his heavy cock head lays there. I can hear Alan doing some deep breathing now, then he catches his breath, pulls his cock from my mouth, and says, "Here, Dylan, put this on...' and passes me a pair of handcuffs. I ask, "Are these real?" and he goes, "Sure, they're just part of the way Franklin and I do it. Snap them on with your hands in front. Here, I'll help..." and he leans over and clicks a cuff on my left wrist. I start to protest, but the right wrist is now secured. "Feel helpless, Dylan?" I go, "Not really, but I don't go for this kind of crap. What's it called, BDSM?" He goes, "I don't think so. I never heard of that." He's got a bungee cord looped through the middle of the handcuffs, asking, "Would you lean over, please?" I make a face, but go along with him as he attaches one end of the cord to my left ankle, then pulls the cord tight drawing both my hands back near my ankles to attach the other bungee cord to my right ankle. As he's doing that he has a hairy arm around my waist lowering my head to the floor. "This is what we call the tripod fuck. I'll grip your hips and lift your head off the floor while I'm pile driving your asshole. Okay? You comfortable?" I'm so pissed I'm sputtering, "Comfort? What the fuck is this? Get me outta here!" Alan chuckles, then says, "Excuse me for laughing, but you just said the exact things I said the first time Franklin got me in this position. 'Get me outta here' just like you. Heh heh heh."

"No kidding around, Mr. Snyder, I don't like this," and as I say the last word he pushes something into my mouth, a ball that taste like sour milk. "This is the ball gag Franklin and I use, but I don't mind sharing it," as he's fastening it on with straps around the back of my head. It's not possible to form words with this in my mouth because it's immobilized my tongue. "You'll be fine, Dylan... relax and enjoy the ride." With my eyes up at the top of their sockets I can see Alan rolling a condom onto his hard cock, as he's saying, "Sorry to have to show you the way adults fuck, but I'm hoping it'll help you see the light and you'll drop your infatuation with adults in general, and me in particular. You need to stick with kids your age until your mature enough to handle adult matters." He's got a hand on each side of my waist, pulling back, lifting my head off the floor. I've given up trying to protest as I'm craning my head to the side looking back at Alan. He still looks calm and barely aroused which is pissing me off! He's got me totally dominated in this helpless position and yet it's barely stimulating him... am I that undesirable? Damn! The head of his fat cock is at my anus, then it's inside me with a violent hump and Alan slowly but steadily, pushes it all the way in. I feel the ridges on the condom and my cock jumps and stiffens up. There lots of lubricant and when he withdraws almost entirely out, then pushes back up inside me more quickly I'm glad I have the ball gag in my mouth or I might have made a girlie squeal. That fucking condom is awesome. My ass is twitching and my toes curling as he does it again quicker than last time, and then he begins fast full humps up my ass, squeezing my sides as he pulls me into his thrust. The sensation in my rectum is totally erotic, and me being hogtied now is adding to the thrill of being fucked like this. I'd struggled at first but now I'm docile in his hands as he hammers my ass with that fat cock encased in a ribbed condom. Two minutes tops, and then I'm blowing sprays of spit around my gross ball gag as my cock shoots out a long string of cum; it leaves with such force my pee hole is burning. That first shot of creamy teen cum flew across my belly and chest, spraying as it went, then splatters under my chin. My body's alive with sensation of pleasure extending from my rectum out to all extremities, even making my scalp tingle. Three fast moving spurts of creamy spunk follow that first fantastic shot and I'm squealing in my mind. It all happened too fast for me to acknowledge all the hot shots and then Alan climaxed right after me, at least that's what he announced in a rather excited manner, "I'm fucking cumming!" and that was followed by hard humps against my buttocks. Another hard thrust with Alan keeping his crotch pressed against my ass, almost certainly firing more cum into the condom. Then a dozen fast humps before he pulls out of my rectum gasping. "Ooohhh, whooooa!"

My forehead hits the floor again as he lets go of me... pulling off his condom he strokes himself a few times. Then he says, "Surprised I got so hot seeing you in the position Franklin usually gets me in. Interesting!" as he's undoing the bungee cords I'm able to straighten-up, making grunting noises around the ball gag, trying to say, "Get this vile gag out of my mouth, asshole!" The climax I had was a serious trip to pleasure-ville, but I'm pissed off at being hogtied and especially pissed off because of the gag. He could have presented the idea to me ahead of time! Alan doesn't even need a key to unlock the handcuffs, just pull the two sections of each cuff apart; I could'a done it myself if I knew the damn things weren't really locked. He unhooks the strap of the ball gag and I spit it out shouting, "That really sucked, Alan! I'm pissed-off at you and I'm thinking of complaining to Rolly!" He actually smiles, then says, "No you won't 'cause you need the job, and what happened to you calling me Mr. Snyder? Is it gonna be 'Alan' from now on?" A light goes on in my head... who's been jerking who's chain here? Has Alan been playin' me like I've been playing him? But no, not entirely.There's Franklin and this neatness fetish, whatever it was he called it, and other stuff that's for real. Tell ya one thing though, he got me over any future interest in pursuing sex with him, hairy or not. I say, "Yeah, it's gonna be Alan from now on." He goes, "That's fine, just keep doing good work and no problem with that... Alan, Mr. Snyder, whatever." I'm squeezing my ass muscles reliving the feeling back there, not sure what to say. Somehow I think I've been totally outsmarted by this guy and I can't believe it. Maybe not though, I'll need to think about it, but I'm definitely over Alan Snyder, so he did what he said he'd do. Dammit! Did he 'job' me? I can't get over that. He says, "Come on, get dressed. Break's over!" and he said it sarcastically. I follow him into the bedroom and get dressed silently, not sure what I want to say. After we're dressed the two of us do a complete bathroom clean-up using Lysol Bathroom cleaner and Windex and half a roll of paper towels. The only talking is Alan instructing me on how to clean a bathroom properly. Contrasting the high of orgasm and the low of cleaning Alan's toilet is like fire and water, and it happened bang, bang... good climax one minute, scrubbing the toilet bowl the next minute. I don't know whether to laugh or dial 911... it's that weird.

It's unfair to infer I think Alan's dangerous just because he's a nut, actually I felt quite safe with him the whole time, but weird-ed out as well fer sure! And that didn't change much in the van driving back to Stop & Shop as an odd atmosphere permeated the air the whole way. Alan's comfortably back into his usual officious persona, and he's been that way ever since pulling his cock out of my ass. When he says something it's not about the fast fuck, but instead he gives instructions again; this time for what I'm to do with the boxes when we arrive back at the store, which I'm not paying attention to. Instead I'm thinking that when everything is said and done, I've pretty much satisfied my curiosity about sex with older and more mature men. Even if Alan isn't much older, Philip certainly is, and I've no desire to pursue this particular curiosity further. I'm staying with my own kind from now on: boys my age, ones who have an interest in me.

Hell, that's kind of an important part of it, being liked by your sex partner. Alan repeatedly told me he wasn't into me much at all, and I believe him. Then there's Philip who couldn't get me out of his place fast enough after fucking me, and he thought I was a call boy. Alan, Philip, and me all had our climaxes, but I'm sure that Alan's and Philip's would have had hotter climaxes with an older sex partner, and my climaxes would have been hotter with a younger one. For reasons unknown, Alan's whiskers are still interesting, although body hair definitely is not. Maybe the whiskers interest me because eventually they'll be part of things in my every day life, even though right now I'm mostly involved with a bunch of baby-faced gay boys, and liking it that way. And another thing that might come from this experience... perhaps I'll find I enjoy having sex with Robby even more now that I know I'm not missing a thing with older more mature dudes; hell, the older dudes aren't even as good, as far as I'm concerned... so I can stop wondering about it. Robby's my main man and maybe it'll turn out that Willie will be my fuck buddy on the side, like Ryan Wilcox has become for Robby... probably not, but we'll see. Willie sure knows how to pleasure his sex buddy, I know that for a fact. So, my current frame of mind is to forget about the older guys entirely and let myself go with the flow where Robby and Willie are concerned. I'm surprisingly upbeat considering the quick weird fuck from Alan, but am I disappointed? I don't think so, and it's far less complicated now that I'm more or less over my intrigue with him... and Philip was already history as far as I'm concerned, modeling career or not. I'm looking forward.

Alan left me alone to unload the van so he could check on how the other bag-boys are doing. When the boxes of uniforms are where they're suppose to be I sit out on the dock smoking a cigarette, waiting for further instructions. Bag boys aren't really into doing more than they need to. If a boss say "grab a broom!" we grab a broom and await further orders. If the boss comes by again and says, "Sweep!" we sweep then. Alan came by fifteen minutes later, asking, "Okay, what'd ya get out of this afternoon's mentoring?" He asked it in a teacher/student manner with such confidence he almost made me feel like his student. It's a little creepy that he would be this confident while I'm still not too sure he hasn't been putting me on all along, but I need the job so I play it straight. "Well, Alan, you kinda showed me that adult gay sex is too advanced for me. I need to grow into it." He does fake clapping without his hands coming together, saying, "Very good! That's exactly the lesson I was teaching." I mumble, "Thank you for showing me that," and dammit if I wasn't feeling a bit sincere about that, although it's all bullshit. It's just that Alan has a way about him that's both absurd and sexy. I've experienced the sex though, so there's no intrigue left with that and consequently I've really no desire to engage in anything with him again. I would love to know what he really thinks about all this though, but I'll bet I never find out what that is. He pompously states, "Glad I could help you out. Concentrate on someone other than me, someone in your league so to speak, and you'll be better off." "Yes, Mr. Snyder," I mutter, going back to using 'mister', and this time I was definitely mocking him. I can't help myself! He goes, "You're on bag-boy duty the rest of the shift. O'Neil's on register 11, replace him and send him to me. I'll be at my station," ... and that was it. Another anti-climatic finish, but maybe that's how it goes with older guys. So that's the end of Alan's and my dance, so ta speak, and I'm pretty much in the dark as to what it was all about, but that doesn't surprise me anymore... I'm usually pretty much in the dark.

Didn't even see Alan the rest of the shift and later, back at my apartment, I'm sick of trying to understand what I thought I was doing. Then Chubby comes home and we talk a little, which got my mind off those two strange sexual encounter I've had in recent weeks. Chubby's worried about one of his midterms, blaming Samantha for it somehow. Then when Robby gets home all three of us got into reviewing material for our last two midterms. I'm checking Robby to see if I can detect if he had something going on with Wilcox tonight, but how the hell can I tell? Chubby crashed before Robby and me; then, around midnight, we take separate showers, and jump into bed. Robby's always up-tight before a big test, and it doesn't matter if it's a test for school or a baseball game. His up-tight mood continued next morning so there wasn't much in the way of chit chat as we bumbled around in the kitchen getting juice and eating leftover pizza from the refrigerator. One of our midterms is at ten o'clock and the other at one o'clock in the afternoon. Taking a big breath and then blowing out his cheeks exhaling it, Robby says, "Ya ready for this, Dylan?" and I go, "Yep, I'm good, let's do it!" so we leave early and do some last minute studying in the quad and then bump fists and head out for room 223 where we'll take midterm exam number three, one to go after this one. Forty-five minutes into the test I glance up to sneak a glance at my beautiful boyfriend just as he's looking over to me and we exchange smiles and subtle thumbs up that screams "gay boys in love!" if anyone saw us, but no one did. Robby finishes his exam two minutes before me... he's waiting for me outside the room. We do a hug, yelling, "Yes! Dude!" then walk over to the quad for sodas telling each other how easy that test was. I'm like, "Yeah, that's because we studied our asses off, kids that didn't study will say it was an unfair, bitch of a test." This was the test we'd worried a little bit about, this afternoon's midterm is a piece of cake, but we review one last time and are over-prepared for it and finish with it in less then an hour... now we're high as a kite . We know we did good and the pressure is off for at least another six weeks when we'll have finals. For now it the Easter weekend, then we have classes next week Monday thru Thursday, which is the beginning of the last semester of our freshman year. After those few days of classes it's spring break; we're all excited and lovin' life. The Alan and Philip affairs already are fading into my past... they seem unimportant even though I feel a little sleazy about my participation and promise myself not to let myself get into compromising situations like those two ever again. I get over things pretty easily though, and by the Friday morning I'm not wasting any time thinking about Philip or Alan. I close out the discussion in my mind with this: mostly I regret both sexual encounters even though, at the time, both seemed like a good idea. After them I feel more experienced for sure, but Robby says we're not to discuss our on-the-side sex, and I'm sure as hell good with that! Those two episodes will forever be hidden in the back of my mind, never again to see the light of day.

Feeling carefree, like a weight's been lifted from my brain, I whistle my way through Good Friday, so ta speak... sleeping late, then engaging in some naughty gay-boy sex with my boyfriend that purifies my body, then he and me mess around torturing Chubby by turning off the hot water when Chubby's in the shower and then taking his towel so he needs to run around the apartment naked, cursing at us and threatening revenge. Mature pranks like that prove we're freshman, out on our own! Later we all have brunch together congratulating ourselves on being brilliant college students and then we pack-up a few things to take home with us for the long weekend. Nothing much really happens on Good Friday, that is unless you're a Christian person who goes to church, which we're not inclined to do even though we are Christians, or at least our mothers are. Robby drives me home and drops me at my condo, then drives himself to his house. Chubby drove Samantha home; then later, at my condo it was Chubby and me alone, like the old days. Chubby asks, "How'd ya really do in the midterms?" I go, "Awesome, really! I could get a B in maybe three of them and I know I passed the other one. So, no sweat. How 'bout you?" Chubby's like, "You know we always do about the same, and three Bs and a passing grade on the other seems about right this time too." I go, "We're geniuses!!" and we bump fist and then do an extemporaneous hug telling each other, "Way to go!" When we lets go, Chubby says, "I miss you so much, Dylan... we hardly did anything together this entire past year, just the two of us I mean." I go, "Well, we had the nice weekend together weeks ago, remember?" He's like, "Yeah, I do, and we need more of that... whadda ya say?" Squeezing the back of his neck, I go, "You know my answer to that..." and we hug again with Chubby mumbling, "Wish it was a couple years ago... those were such great times..." My eyes feel watery. I love hugging Chubby and at the moment it feels as though he's hugging me back extra hard. Wonder what's up with that?

to be continued...

Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com