Dylans Freshman Year

DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR

Chapter 30

by Donny Mumford

Teenagers love shopping malls, at least the teenagers I know. Awesome place to hook-up and hang-out with your buds. I can't help but think how much simpler my life is here at home as compared to being in Key West with Willie; oh my God, there's no comparison. Okay, just thinking about Willie's name has me sucking on my lips as my anus quivered. It's not that I'm not sexually satisfied because my homeboys have taken excellent care of that. It's just a reflex action left over from my week with Willie. I've never felt as submissive before in my life; not anything like Willie made me feel during the last few days of our Key West trip. He was following some sort of plan he'd concocted that apparently worked; a plan to get me hanging all over him and treating him like my idol. And I'm not going to lie to myself and pretend that I'm not drawn to that feeling again either, because I am. It has nothing to do with Robby and me; I love Robby so much it's almost stupid, and my bro, Chubby, was so awesome I can't articulate exactly how wonderful my time with him this morning was. Plus, Robby and me had that fantastic reunion, and his little brother who ain't so little, helped me out with the horniness problem I had; the one Willie created. And Dodger is hot too! But they're all sweet friends and/or lovers, and Willie's what? I don't know what Willie is exactly. I have to shake my head because it's unbelievable how hot the sex Willie laid on me in Key West was with Willie dominating me like no one else ever has. Maybe no one else could do it to the degree he does it. It's a much more powerful force now than it was during our first time together. It's become addictive; that is, me being submissive to Willie. In Key West it probably should have scared me, but it didn't. I reveled in it. Willie knows me so well and obviously knows every button to push in order to get me doing his bidding. Half the time he makes me feel like a little boy, and that sounds as weird as it feels; except I loved it. Oh man, I don't know what I'm going to do about Willie, I really don't. It really isn't a serious love thing at all, except that I love the sex we have together. No, my true love is Robby and when he and I have sex together my world is an extremely happy place. I love that boy! Chubby too of course, although in a very different way. It's just that I got a humongous thrill being dominated by Willie and I know I want some more of it. And, I haven't even mentioned his eight inch cock, and the fact that he knows how to use it too. Truth is though, I haven't spent much time at all thinking about Willie since coming home because it makes me all gooey inside and, like I said, my ass starts clinching and the lips of my anus quiver. Ordinarily that'd be okay, but it's a little scary now that I'm home; it wasn't scary in Key West, but here at home it is because it's like he's controlling me from a distance. So, like I said, I don't know what I'm going to do about Willie. I know what I'm going to about him for the moment though: I'm going to stop thinking about him and enjoy being with my friends. I'm hoping the longer I'm home the more his influence will fade.

Helping me forget Willie for the moment are all these people in the mall. The good thing about that is you can get lost in the crowds and not stand-out, which is just one of the reasons us teens like it here. Chubby and I currently are with Connor, Elliot, Elliot's boyfriend, Jay, and Elliot's brother, Ray, who's just spotted one of his homeboys and has broken away from our group to hook-up with his friend. I'm walking with quiet Connor at the moment. No more thinking about Willie for now; instead, since Connor's not talking, I think about the encounter I had with Ray just before he saw his homeboy and left us. It makes me smile at what a clueless-wonder Ray is. His suggestion was that I blow him so he can try to determine if he's bi and that's just nuts right there, but a perfect fit for Ray. If I suck him off the right way, he says he might even fuck me a little too, as if that would be a special treat for me. He considers me his sex counselor, and over the past two years I've counseled him twice; both times it was him doing the fucking because he assumes I'm gay or bi, and therefore won't mind "doing the female part" of gay fucking; that's the way clueless Ray explains it to me. The plan he'd come-up with for today is the two of us sneak away from the group for his "experiment". He's delusional, of course, but I pretended to go along with him because, who knows, there's always the chance I'm hard-up sometime and need a fuck... haha. Ray's a nut-case, but I think he's hot too, in his own very peculiar way. But I'm definitely not hard-up now, not in the least, so it ain't happening with him although it's fun to lead silly Ray along a little. Rays gone for now and as I said, at the moment I'm enjoying Connor's company, who hasn't said anything for a few minutes. This isn't unusual for Connor. The thing I've noticed about him today is that he seems to get more attractive every time I see him, and I'm crazy about him anyway... as a good friend mostly, although we've had a couple of very quick buddy sex experiences too. I'm totally sexually satisfied at the moment though, as I've said, so even that isn't really on my mind. Here's why I'm totally sexually satisfied: Yesterday, when I got back from Key West, Dodger met Willie and me at the airport to give us a ride home. Willie and Dodger got along like water and oil of course, but that's to be expected 'cause hardly any of my friends like Willie. It wasn't a real problem between those two though, just slightly awkward. After we dropped Willie off, Dodger and I went to my place because Dodger wanted the same haircut Willie made me get. During the haircut Dodger somehow manipulated things and he ended-up giving me a hard fucking, which I'm not complaining about one bit... just saying. Then, last night Robby and I had our reunion and that was a total success! I fucked him and later he fucked me, and believe me, it was far better than that brief description might sound in the telling. And, to top off my good fortune, last night Chubby slept with me and, surprise-surprise, in the morning he fucked me too, and it was one of the best fucks I've ever had; primarily because it was Chubby doing the fucking. So, that's why young Ray Ellis is totally out of luck as far as him thinking he's going to fuck me. Frankly, it's been an embarrassment of riches for me lately, my complications involving Willie not withstanding.

Chubby, Connor, and I have just decided to hang-out together; it's a Saturday night but we have no specific plans. We're going to see what develops. All of us drift into the GAME STOP store to check-out the latest video games. We browse around, but don't buy anything. Then it's into the cool atmosphere of the Abercrombie & Fitch store where everything is too expensive for any of us to buy, but we browse though there listening to the hot music anyway. We get bored with that after awhile, so it's down to the food court to get something to eat and drink. We all get different stuff for our lunches except for Connor, who says he's not hungry. I know his money problems, and his pride, so I buy a double cheeseburger and large fries, with a large root beer to share with him, although I'll need to make it seem like he's doing me a favor. We snag a table and sit down to eat our lunches. After a minute or two I say to Connor, "Dude, my eyes were bigger than my stomach, help me with these fries, will ya? I'd hate to throw them out. He hesitates, staring at the delicious things, then asks, "Are you sure, Dylan?" I go, "I'm positive, you'll be doing me a favor." After a bit, I say, "Connor, these fries are salty as hell, here take some of my soda." He looks at me, then says, "Are you..." and I interrupt him to say, "Yes, I'm sure. You don't have any cooties, do ya?" He grins, saying, "A few," as he sucks down some soda using my straw. I really am getting filled-up now and pass a third of the cheeseburger to Connor, "Can you finish this for me Connor?" He grins again, looking at the cheeseburger that I've chewed away about two-thirds of, and he asks, "You don't got any cooties, do ya?" I laugh at him, grinning, then say, "Just a few," and he picks up the cheeseburger and finishes it quickly, then drinks more soda and goes back for a few more french fries. Not hungry, my ass.

Done eating we slurp on our drinks and rag on each other, laughing at one another. My haircut gets a lot of attention, some negative and some good, like Ray's opinion of it. Finished our drinks we still linger, having fun being together, then I spot Travis Hunter with his girlfriend. Chubby and I went to high school with Travis, although we never hung-out with him. We were on speaking terms though, and in a couple of the same classes, but that's about it. Travis is going to Merrimack college now too, and whenever I see him on campus he's very friendly, making me wish we had hooked-up in high school once in awhile. He's very good looking, but not what I consider "cute". Older looking than his age, which is nineteen... same as all of us. Maybe it's his horn-rim glasses and the fact he wears his hair long in an eighties style, that makes him look older. He's got a killer smile though, and that's very cute. There's a nerdy/hottie thing going on with Travis that's kinda unique, and he's very deferential to me; like he thinks I'm cooler than he is or something. Overall he's very likable, and kind of funny too... I mean the things he says and the way he says them strike me as kind of funny. To be honest, even though he's had the same girlfriend since his junior year in high school, I always get the feeling he's coming on to me; it's weird and I can't describe it, but I think he is. And that goes for our infrequent times together at Merrimack. I wave at him now and he and the girlfriend drift over and pull up chairs to join us.

A few introductions, then Travis, looking at me, says, "My parents have made the mistake of going away for the weekend, so naturally the first thing I thought of was 'party time'." That's what I mean about him being kinda funny, not laugh-out-loud funny, but clever-funny in the way he puts things. He adds, "And you're invited," then he includes my friends, "I mean, all of you are invited. My older brother is getting a couple of quarter kegs of beer, and we'll grab some vodka and stuff from my old man's collection. George, that's my brother, had a smash of a party the last time the parents went away so the old man put a pad lock on his whisky stash, which didn't slow down George all that much. He's already used a screwdriver and a hammer to tap out the pins of the door's hinges, so the lock's no problem. The door's just hanging there, open. He'll have some of his rowdy friends at the party, of course, but they won't bother with us nerds, so what do ya say?" I raise my eyebrows looking at the guys, and we're all shaking our heads "Hell yeah!" So I say, "Yeah, we're in, Dude." He's like, "Awesome, my babe and I are buying some snacks for tonight, but feel free to bring anything you can scrounge up; food or booze." We all talk about that for awhile, as I scrutinize Travis' girlfriend. She doesn't have much to say and she ain't much of a looker either. I don't remember seeing her around last year in high school; not that I spent much time looking at girls...haha. Her eyebrows almost connect over her nose and she just doesn't look all that "girlie" to me. Her hair is cut almost exactly like Travis' haircut. She's wearing guys clothing too: a hoodie sweatshirt and boys Lee jeans, black ones with skinny legs. I can't even see her boobs, so they must be small. It's none of my business though, and then I glance at Travis and catch him staring at me. Don't know what that means, but it's not gonna keep me away from the party. I drank a little beer in Key West, plus two mixed drinks on the beach, but other than that I haven't imbibed much alcohol recently. Sounds like fun getting a little skunked; good way to end spring break. Travis quickly averts his eyes when I look at him, and says to Connor, who hasn't said a word except to me, since we all sat down, "My brother's got a killer sound system and we're having a live band, so bring dates if you want, 'cause there'll be a lot of dancing. The more the merrier. George and me are gonna get our asses reamed out by our folks when they get home tomorrow, so we want to make the party worth the aggravation of that, ya know?" Chubby goes, "No problem, dude. We know how to party." Then I add, "We're going stag tonight, Travis, so round-up some extra babes if you can, maybe we'll get lucky tonight. I know I'm feeling lucky." Chubby deadpans, "Yeah, Dylan a real womanizer so keep your woman at your side." Travis looks at me, and asks, "You more of an ass guy or a boobs guy?" Thinking of no-boobs Tootsie here, I say, "I probably lean more along the lines of being an ass guy." He chews the inside of his cheek, frowning at me for a second like he's disappointed, then goes, "Whatever, they'll be plenty of girls there tonight. My girlfriends invited her sorority from college, didn't ya, Tootsie?" She rolls her eyes, but doesn't respond. What the hell's with her? I know she doesn't go to Merrimack, but that's all I know about her, except Travis called her "Tootsie", maybe that's even her name... weird name for a weird girl.

We sit around talking about the upcoming party for a bit, kind of excited because what teen doesn't want to go to a booze party. Then Travis writes his address on a napkin, and passing it to me, saying, "We'll get started about nine o'clock and it'll roll on until two or three in the morning, or until the cops break it up. See ya all there..." We all say, "Later, dude," as Travis and Tootsie go on their way. Chubby looks at me, and says, "You think you're an an ass man, huh?" Then he laughs, and Elliot, looking at me kind of funny, says, "Probably Connor and Chubby are the only two at this table who the girls need to worry about, right?" That's quite a provocative statement coming from shy Eliott. Jay mumbles, "Chubby fer sure." I guess Jay's gaydar has Connor pegged correctly, but no one else at the tables does, so no one comments on that. Connor blushes slightly and looks at me, and in almost a whisper, asks, "Ya gonna tell Robby about the party?" I go, "Sure thing, I'll text him now. We hope you'll hang out with us at the party, Connor; that's if you want to." He initially looked disappointed when I said I'd text Robby, but when I asked him to hang-out with us he gives me his little grin, saying, "If it's okay with Robby. I'd, you know, like to do that. I probably won't know anyone there," as his voice fades out and he makes a face like maybe he's uncomfortable. I make a face myself, like, "Are you kidding, Connor, Robby won't mind, he thinks you rock." Then add, "It don't matter if we know anyone there or not, we'll have a good time ourselves. I'll tell him in my text that the four of us will be the four Musketeers tonight; you, me, Robby and Chubby. We want you to hang with us!" As I'm texting Connor, Ray reappears, walking down the crowded corridor towards us. Elliot sees him and whispers to all of us, "Don't tell Ray about the party, he's too young, and Jay and I can't go anyway. We have a thing to go to at our Community College." Chubby says, "Sorry that you guys can't make it, but ya don't have to worry about me telling your brother about the party, he's a little bit of an odd-ball, isn't he?" Elliot goes, "Oh no! Ray's cool, but just too young." Ray gets to our table and plops down, asking, "What's everyone so quiet about?" Elliot says, "We're talking about big boy stuff, and you're not a big boy yet." Ray asks, "Oh man, is it gay stuff?" and now it's Elliot's turn to blush. Chubby goes, "Okay, Ray's question makes me realize I'm over my head intellectualize-wise, I'm ready to head for home and watch dumb stuff on TV like the Red Sox. You ready, Dylan, how 'bout you Connor." We both say, "Sure," then Ray looks at me with desperation in his eyes, and asks, "Anyone need to go to the bathroom? Um, do you, Dylan?" Chubby says, "It's getting weirder and weirder." Then, Chubby's smiling when he asks, "What the fuck is with you, Ray?" Ray doesn't answer Chubby directly, just looks away mumbling, "Nothing's wrong with me." Chubby's a little on the short side, but he still intimidates some guys... Ray being one of them. Ray mumbles to me, "What's so weird about needing to go to the bathroom?" and he stares hard at me, trying to get me to understand this is his "sign" for him and me to sneak off so he can fuck me in some random supply room he knows of. And, oh, I forgot, he wants me to suck his cock, then he'll do me the favor of fucking me. oh brother! The boy's so delusional, it's actually funny. I play it straight, merely saying, "Nothing's wrong with needing to go to the bathroom, Ray... it's just that nobody has to go, but the restroom's over there in the corner if you need it." Chubby's says his 'goodbyes' and is already leaving, so I get up and lean close to Ray, adding, "Sorry, dude, but my ride's leaving." He puts his lips close to my ear, and whispers, "Yeah, well don't be too disappointed, Dylan; I can see you are, but you missed all my signs earlier, dude! Fuck it, just call me and we'll make plans. I'll still let you blow me, at least." I do my fake cough to cover my laugh, and say, "You betcha, Ray." And as I'm leaving, I hear Ray ask Elliot, "What time we leaving? I got stuff to do, bro." I didn't hear the answer to that 'cause Connor and I are hustling to catch-up with Chubby, but I'm chuckling to myself; Ray's in a world all his own.

On the walk to the car, in the parking lot, I give Connor a smoke, while Chubby and I share one. Chubby's walking ahead of us a little, so Connor takes the opportunity to ask, "What did that kid whisper in your ear, Dylan?" I say, "He wants me to blow him, it's a long story. Ray's not to be taken seriously, on any level." Connor says, "Everyone wants a piece of you, don't they?" I go, "I wish, Connor, but that's not true." He doesn't look at me as he mumbles, "I do too, actually." I give him a neck hug with my free arm and he takes a big drag on his cigarette, grinning. How the fuck is he going to make it in the Army? Dammit all! Chubby reaches back for our cigarette, and asks, "Hey, the Red Sox are on TV this afternoon, like I said... are you guys up for catching the last couple of innings?" I go, "Sounds good," to Chubby, then to Connor, "You might as well stay with us until the party, Connor." He goes, "Thanks, Dylan, I'd like that." Then he says, "I should change though, what do you think everyone will wear tonight? Dress-up or, I don't know..." He doesn't get out much. I go, "You're fine as you are, but you can look through my stuff to see if you want to borrow something; a sweatshirt or something." He nods his head, mumbling, "That's cool. I'd like to wear something of yours." Connor and I catch up with fast walking Chubby. He's chuckling, he must have heard what Connor said and he's probably wondering how Robby's going to like the way Connor sort of hangs on me. I glance over at him and see him smirking his cute smirk, so I go, "What?" Chubby's shakes his head, smiling harder, so I guess I was right. Chubby's wrong though, Robby likes Connor; everybody likes him... except maybe his asshole roommate, or maybe his asshole roommate likes Connor best of all and doesn't like it when Connor wants to be with anyone else. That's a disturbing thought. Here's another one: There's no way Connor and that asshole Josh are getting it on, is there?

We watch the ball game in Chubby's condo sharing three of Tris' beers; just a little front loading for the party. I get a text from Robby wanting the address of the party. He's hanging out with guys from the baseball team and won't be back until nine and then he'll need to shower, so he won't be arriving at the party until ten-thirty or so. That's cool. I remember his proclamation that I'm not to get pissed when he's doing stuff with the baseball team. He told me that's because I sort of strayed with Willie in Key West a little bit; well, it was more than a little bit, but I don't think Robby wants to hear about the extent of that. Thinking of Willie for a second, my anus lips vibrate. Goddammit! Willie did a number on me in Key West and I can't get it out of my mind! I guess I don't really want to forget it; not yet anyway. But I need to stop thinking about him so often! Shaking my head to clear it, I text Robby the address. Connor and I are on the sofa. Chubby's in an over-stuffed chair with his feet on a footstool drinking his beer; then he gets a cell phone call. I'm thinking, 'Dammit, if that's one of his girlfriend I'm going to be pissed! He's suppose to hang with us guys tonight'. Listening to him talk, it doesn't sound like he's talking to a girlfriend. Then I hear, "I'll ask him, mom." Chubby looks at me, and says, "The moms want us to come to the restaurant for dinner during their break, which is six o'clock tonight. Whadda you think?" I go, "A free restaurant dinner? Are you kidding me, hell yeah! Tell them Connor's with us." Chubby goes, "Oh yeah," and talks some more on the phone. When he's done, he tells me. "Prime rib is tonight's special again. "Hot shit!" I yell. Then asks, "What about Connor?" Chubby's like, "Of course it's okay with the moms. You know that any friend of our is always welcome as far as the moms are concerned. Geez, Dylan, get real! We should clean-up a little first, don't ya think?" I go, "We both had showers this morning, dude. That's clean enough for me." He says, "Yeah, I know that. I meant change our clothes for dinner." I mutter, "Oh yeah, good idea. It's a pretty nice restaurant." Then to Connor, "Come on down to my place and pick out some stuff, it'll all fit you as good as it fits me." He nods again, but I think he feels self-conscious like he's butting-in on the dinner or something. I don't know that for sure, but to be safe, I say, "This'll be fun, Connor. I'm so glad we ran into you today. I missed you, dude." He brightens up, "I'm the lucky one, Dylan, but thanks."

When we're in my bedroom I show Connor some of my shirts, not that I have very many here at the condo, most of my clothes are at our college apartment. Connor chooses my polo blue, button-down-collar shirt and khaki pants, the same thing I had on for my reunion with Robby yesterday. I only had those things on for an hour or so, it's not like I wore them all night. Still, I get out the ironing board to iron them. Robby says, "Let me do that, Dylan. I'm not used to being waited on." I go, "Sure, Connor," and choose a crew neck sweater to wear over a t-shirt for myself, and clean jeans that I got for Christmas. They look presentable, certainly more so than what I wore all day today. Connor, standing at the ironing board, is now wearing just his jockey shorts and t-shirt, and he looks hot. He's doing a meticulous job of ironing the shirt. It wasn't really wrinkled to begin with, but I don't say anything. As I'm changing into my clean jeans and crew neck sweater, he asks, "How do you think I'd look in that cool hair style you're rocking nowadays. You look really, um, cool with it! You look kinda like a cute tough-guy." I go, "Really?" as I check myself out in the mirror. I do look a little bit like a badass, at that. Fuckin' Willie, maybe he knows what he's doing after all and, of course, my damn anus begins to quiver again as I think his name. To put a stop to that I remember Willie didn't get his hair cut like this, so maybe he don't know what he's doing, after all; and that thought calms my ass quivers. But still, Willie's there in my head. Shaking my head, like I did earlier to clear it, I say, "Gee, Connor, this haircut's a bit radical for you, don't ya think?" He's like, "Hmmm, maybe, but I like it on you." That makes me feel good, but we leave his next haircut up in the air. It was fun cutting Dodger's hair like mine, but I'll let Connor mull it over some more. I don't want to sway him one way or the other. My haircut has been more accepted than I expected it would be, it's about fifty-fifty for thumbs-up and thumbs-down. I really like the two pierced-ears look too, they add to my badass image. I also like that Connor added "cute" in his description. Hope I'm not getting conceited with all the compliments I've received this past week; Willie went overboard with compliments, and then Robby too, and now Connor. It's all good, I guess. Then I adjust my dick when I realize I'm thinking about Willie in Key West again.

But damn, I look at Connor's ass and put Willie out of my mind. I mean, Connor's got himself a killer boy's-ass. I'd like to goose him except I don't want to encourage him; it seems he's working up a little crush on me. Man, he's going to make some gay boy awfully happy someday. To return his compliment to me, I say, "In case I haven't mentioned it lately, Connor, you're looking mighty good, as in hot, yourself." He turns his head, biting his bottom lip, to look at me. Then he mumbles, "Thanks, um, do ya think we can mess around a little?" I go, "I'd really love to, but we gotta leave for the restaurant to meet the moms." My dick swings from the left side of my underwear to the middle and I unconsciously adjust my package. Whew! See, I do have some self-control, some will power. I gotta admit though, Chubby's awesome fuck on my ass first thing this morning seems like it was a long time ago by now. One last grab of my dick, then I call Chubby's cell. He goes, "Dylan, whassup?" I tell him we're just about ready and he says Connor and I should meet him at the car. Connor's finished ironing and he's put the iron and ironing board back to where I got it. He's almost dressed, just finishing buttoning-up the shirt. I grab a brush and cup his chin in my hand, saying, "Damn, your lucky. Your hair grows fast," as I brush front to back at his hair. He stands still for me as I do it, his sweet beer-breath on my face. Looking into his beautiful dark blue eyes for a few seconds, I smile and he blushes. Geez, he blushes more than me and that's saying something. Done his hair, I brush mine, but there's not much to brush. I can't resist running my fingers through Connor's hair though, and then brushing it again; it was a buzz cut but it's grown in quickly and now feels soft and fuzzy. "Nice hair," I say, and he leans in to give me a quick kiss on the lips. "You're my best friend, Dylan." That takes me by surprise and I stammer, "Um, ah, well thanks, for that, Connor. I'm honored."

It's slightly awkward for a second there, then I go, "Well, ah, Chubby's ready. Let's meet him at the Jeep. Oh, do you want a jacket, it'll get chilly at night." He goes, "How about a sweatshirt?" I go "Better idea, I'll bring one too." I grab my hoodie for him 'cause I think a boy with the hood up looks really hot. I only have one hoodie here, so I'll let Connor wear that and I'll take a regular sweatshirt for myself. Carrying the sweatshirts, we hustle outside and down the steps to where I parked the Jeep at the curb. Checking my watch, it's already six o'clock so we're late again, naturally. Chubby's got the car running and off we go with Connor in the middle and me riding shotgun. Chubby goes, "You two look sharp!" Connor mutters, "Thanks," and I say, "You too, Chubby,". I can tell Connor's happy hangin' with us and that makes me feel good. The drive is only about ten minutes. The moms work at a slightly upscale restaurant/lounge that serves good food at reasonable prices, especially for us because it's free. My mom meets us as we're walking in and comes over to give me a hug and a kiss on my cheek. She says, "Dylan, I love that stylish haircut!" I blush, naturally, and mumble, "Thanks, mom," but I am relieved she said that. Of course, she thought the mohawk haircut the mohawk man gave me last summer was cool too, she'd say it looks good if I wore my hair in braids. My mom is super supportive of me. She gives me another kiss, then hugs Chubby and kisses him too, and says, "Chubby, you have a fresh haircut too. Did Dylan cut it for you? It looks great." Chuby says, "I wouldn't dare let anyone else cut it, Dylan would pout for a month." She laughs, saying, "Oh, he would not. Would you, Dylan?" I go, "Yeah, I would," and Chubby squeezes my hand, going, "Well, no one but you touches my hair, dude, so ya got nothing to worry about." Mom is busy making a fuss over Connor as I think back to the first time I met Ricky, of the infamous window washing boys. He and Chubby came to my condo so Ricky could use my barber clippers to give Chubby his first buzz cut since we were kids. Chubby said Ricky insists his window washer boys all have buzz cuts. I was so jealous and pissed-off I almost got in a fight with Ricky. We didn't get along from the start. He had his eye on Chubby, I have no doubt, and before it was all done he really fucked Chubby up too. We got him though, we got revenge on his ass good!

By the time my mom's done hugging and kissing Connor, and telling him how handsome he is, Connor's face is the color of blood. Boy, I feel bad for him, but my mom loves my friends, and Connor really is wicked handsome, so she's just being honest about it. She leads us to a table for five near the kitchen. It's out of the way of the regular diners. Crisp white tablecloth, with dark blue cloth napkins and shiny silver wear. Nice! We sit down, making small talk, and a few minutes later Tris comes out of the kitchen with a tray containing five cups of New England clam chowder. She serves us, saying, "You boys are ridiculously good looking! College boys too, you make us so proud, and it's awesome seeing you again Connor. It's been awhile; since Easter at the Dickers, right?" He says, "Yes, ma'am. It's very nice seeing you and Mrs. Newman too. And thank you for allowing me to join you for dinner." She says, "You are so sweet," and then Connor needs to endure the same treatment my mom gave him as Tris hugs his neck while kissing his cheek. Chubby and I exchange knowing glances. This is what you get from our moms. Then it's me that Tris attacks with a kiss and a neck hug, saying, "Oh my, that's a short haircut, Dylan. It looks great on you too." I mutter, "Thanks, Tris. I gave Chubby a haircut last night. Do you like it?" Why not milk out a compliment. She gushes about how nice Chubby's haircut is, as she's kissing her son. With all that out of the way we try the soup as my mom asks me about Key West. I tell her about the things we saw on the bus tour, and describe the beautiful water with it's various shades of blue, and how the beach sand is so fine and needs to be imported from other places because there's no natural sand in Key West, and how the weather's so great there, except for the first and last days when it rained. I didn't mention Willie or his suicide attempt, or that he fucked me into a constant state of sexual arousal because that would be too much information, ya know.

After my travel-log, my mom goes, "Oh my, you got your other ear pierced again too, and you bought new earrings. They're very nice, are they gold?" I go, "How could I afford gold, mom?" and I change the subject from me to Chubby, by saying, "Chubby's finished with his part-time job." They both look at Chubby and now it's Chubby's turn to be grilled by both moms. They laugh as Chubby mumbles, "Thanks a lot, turncoat," to me. It's every man for himself when the moms get their mitts on you. Chubby has to fill them in on his last days working for Mary Jo's father and then they get into Chubby's love life, asking about Samantha and Mary Jo and getting very little information from Chubby for their trouble. Chubby's an expert at talking without saying much. We're done the soup, and my mom clears the table and ask what we want for dinner. Chubby and I tell her, medium rare prime rib with a baked potato lathered in sour cream, butter, and chives... hold the vegetables. My mom says, "Oh, don't be silly. Vegetables are delicious here; you boys liked the kernel corn the last dinner we had here." I go, "Okay, I'll have the corn." She giggles, then says, "It's not our vegetable of the day, how about creamed spinach?" Chubby and I both act like we're gagging, muttering, "God, no!!" We settle on a salad with Russian dressing. My mom says, "Connor honey, does that sound good to you?" He says, "Yes, please. It sounds delicious, but I don't believe I've ever had prime rib. Is it like roast beef?" Mom says, "Yes, only better. Same potato and salad that the boys are getting?" He goes, "Oh yes, please. Thank you." "Aren't you the sweetest thing though! I'll put the order in now." I know Tris and my mom will have something very light to eat, like a Caesar salad. Maybe with salmon, or something equally yucky on top of the salad. The conversation comes easily once the grilling period is over. Chubby and I relate some half truths, and a few outright lies to the moms about college; things we know they'd like to hear. We can't very well concentrate on the beer parties and classes we skip. We skip to the limit for each course, but our grades are actually pretty good although we still exaggerate what we're expecting for grades the last semester. What's the harm, it makes the moms feel good. If the actual grades don't match our predictions we just say that the professor's turned-out to be a hard grader, or he has it in for us for some vague reason. We get "C's" and "B's" and that's pretty good. Connor only speaks when one of the moms asks him something, which they do every so often trying to include him in the conversation. Then Chubby regales us with some factoids that the mom's marvel at. "How do you remember all these factoids?" my mom wants to know. Chubby says, "I've got a photographic memory," which gets me into my fake coughing bit. The moms never doubt Chubby's factoids, like I do. They assume he's right. Ya gotta love our moms. They'll both be supportive of me being gay when I "come out" to them, and of course there's always the possibility they already suspect I'm gay because they never ask me about girlfriends like they do Chubby, and even Connor gets quizzed on that topic. He blushes, saying, "I don't have a girlfriend at the moment," and the moms don't push it, probably they figure he doesn't have a girlfriend because he's so shy.

Our dinners come out perfectly cooked. The moms do indeed have salads; this time with strips of chicken on top. That's not so bad and it's surprising they had both the clam chowder and a salad. They're not big eaters, concerned with their figures I suppose. They both are dating and Tris has been going with the same guy for two years. I thought my mom found Mr. Right with her last boyfriend, but it didn't work out. Both Tris and my mom had babies when they were seventeen, Chubby and me were the babies, so that makes them both thirty-six years old. Hard to imagine being that old, but there you have it. The food is awesome, the prime rib tender, juicy, and delicious. The moms eat only half their salads, then my mom says, "Our break is over, Tris, we better get back before the boss has a conniption." Tris says, "Wow, that went fast. Well boys, it's wonderful seeing you, thanks for coming to dinner. We don't see enough of you guys. Connor you're invited any time, honey. Don't be a stranger." My mom goes over those same basic sentiments, then adds, "And Dylan, sweetheart, I'm so glad you're back safely and that you had such an interesting trip to Florida." Us boys thank the moms for dinner and promise to make them a great brunch tomorrow morning. It's what we always do on the Sundays we're home. More kisses follow; goodbye kisses, then Chubby spreads his hand, saying, "What? This is it? How 'bout dessert?" Tris says, "How'd we forget that? We'll bring you dessert menus when you finish your dinners." Then they're away in a burst of energy. Our moms are awesome!

We continue eating, but now the table seems calm, the moms took their energy with them. They can wear you out, but in a nice way. Our prime ribs came with the bone in. When we'd cut and eaten all the meat we can get at, both Chubby and me pick up the bone and chew off the remaining bits like we do with baby back ribs; this is a much bigger bone though. We wouldn't do that with the moms still at the table because ya get a lot of fatty juice on your cheeks while chewing the tidbits off the bone, get greasy fingers too, but it's worth the mess. Anyway, that's what we have napkins for! Connor ate everything, including every bit of his salad, but he didn't pick-up the bone. Probably too polite. I get filled-up before finishing the salad, although that Russian dressing is sweet! I can make it from scratch, and often do for us guys at the apartment. Chubby even ate the skin of his bakes potato. I've never thought the skin was all that tasty, and say so. Chubby goes, "That just proves ya don't have a gourmet's tastebuds." I go, "Seems a tad brutish eating the skin, got nothing to do with being a gourmet. What do you think, Connor?" He says, "I think you're both right," and we chuckle at that with Connor going, "What?" He wouldn't disagree with either of us although I win the argument with Chubby because Connor didn't eat his potato skin either; a fact I point out to Chubby, who says, "That don't prove anything, Connor's probably full. That's all." We chat about the party tonight and then my mom comes with dessert menus as a uber cute busboy clears the table with me going into my clumsy mode: first, getting a touch on his hand, and then standing up too quickly, bumping into him. He's all apologetic, but I'm betting he's calling me an asshole in his head, heh heh. Damn, he's cute, but probably too young for me. When he leaves with a full tray of dirty dishes Connor nods at the departing busboy, saying, "That's what I do in the restaurant I work at. I usually work weekends, but they didn't need me this time. I'm lucky, I'd have missed this great day with you two, and this delicious dinner too. It's the best meal I've ever had." That's the same thing he said after Easter dinner at the Dickers. He's so sweet, like both moms said about him earlier.

For dessert, it unanimous, we all choose fudge cake with dark chocolate icing and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Chubby says, "You were too full to eat your salad, Dylan, but not too full for dessert. What's up with that?" I go, "That's right, mommy, I got my big boy's appetite back." He laughs, "Yeah, I hear ya, bro." After every crumb of that fantastic dessert is devoured, Chubby goes, "Ya know what would top off this meal perfectly?" I go, "Um, coffee?" He says, "Your close, bro, I'm thinking: Irish coffee." Connor asks, "What's that?" Chubby says, "We'll surprise ya." When he can get his mom's eye, Chubby motions her over and begins conning her. "Mom, I just wanted to say how much fun this has been. Thank you so much for treating us to dinner." She hugs his neck cheek to cheek, saying, "We love you boys so much. You bring so much joy into our lives." Chubby endures the neck hug, and the kiss on top of his head, mumbling, "That's really sweet, mom. Ah, by the way, Dylan wants to ask you for a favor." She says, "Sure, honey, what is it?" Then Tris looks at me, as Chubby says, "Dylan?" I go, "What? It was your idea." Chubby goes, "Dylan's embarrassed to ask, mom, but he thought it would be a great idea if we all had an Irish coffee, just one isn't going to hurt us. You know, it's for Dylan's welcome home dinner. As a special favor to him." I go, "Oh brother!" She laughs, saying, "You're so sneaky, Jeffrey Romero. But for Dylan's home coming dinner I'll see what I can do." Chubby and I both say, "You're the best!" She's shaking her head, knowing she's been buttered up something terrible, but ten minutes later a friend of the mom's, and older lady, brings us the Irish coffees, saying, "You didn't get these from me, boys. My, but aren't you a good looking group though. My goodness! No wonder your moms are so proud of you all." We give polite thanks. Irish coffee has that tasty whipped cream on top, which I stick my tongue in as soon as the waitress leave, "Yum!" is my conclusion. Even though the coffee's are too hot to drink we all take a sip anyway, and Connor says, "Hot! Taste like whiskey, but really good too." Chubby says, "Bingo, Connor. There's Jameson whiskey in your Irish coffee, plus real whipped cream on top. The Irish know how to enjoy their coffee." Connor says, "I'll say," and he takes another swallow. "Still really hot," he goes, and I say, "That's why Chubby and I are waiting." He grins, saying, "You boys are way smarter than me," as he takes some more too-hot coffee, mumbling, "This is delicious stuff."

We take our time drinking the Irish coffees while talking about funny things that happened at college during the year. When we get tired of sitting we decide to smoke cigarettes outside. Standing, I go, "Shouldn't we leave a tip? I mean, a free dinner with all the extras deserves something from us." Chubby goes, "You got class, dude, leave about forty bucks." I go, "Nice try cheapskate," as I throw a twenty on the table. Connor says, "I've got eight dollars, I, um, forgot to bring my wallet this morning." I go, "You're our guest, you get it next time, okay?" Chubby gets out a twenty, we all know Connor's money problems, and says, "Oh yeah, Connor. Keep your money, we wanted to treat you. I was just jobbing Dylan, here's my twenty." Connor blushes, mumbling, "Thank you, you guys are so nice. I, ah, well thanks very much." A little bit awkward again, so Chubby and me say no more about the tip. We see Tris on the way out and she repeats the goodbye hugs and kisses. When we break away we hustle out the front door before my mom can grab us. It's a really nice night for a party, especially for this time of year. I get inside the Jeep to start it and then get some tunes going on the radio. Back outside I pass Connor a Marlboro Light, then light one for Chubby and me and take a drag before passing the smoke to Chubby, saying, "I'm glad they have a live band, I feel like dancing tonight." Chubby goes, "Where'd ya learn to dance so good?" I say, "A couple of years back a friend taught me," not wanting to bring up Willie's name because it usually gets negative comments and that's so unfair to Willie because these guys don't really know him at all. With exhaled cigarette smoke drifting from his nose and mouth, Connor asks, "Can you dance too, Chubby?" Chubby goes, "I'm damn good, dude, even if I do say so myself." I go, "Ha! That's a good one. Here's Chubby's fast dance, Connor," and, to the song that's playing on the radio, I mimic the two dance moves Chubby uses over and over." Chubby laughs, saying, "You suck so much, bro! I don't dance like that." I say to Connor, "I did it exactly like Chubby, except I kept time with the beat, Chubby ignores that detail." Chubby blows smoke in my face, saying, "That's so not true! I roll like this," and he does exactly the moves I just mimicked him doing." Connor says, "I think you dance cool, Chubby. Wish I could dance." He wouldn't say anything negative about anyone if you put a gun to his head; God forbid that anyone would ever do that. Then I remember he's going into the Army and that thought brings me down a little.

The beers we had before coming to the restaurant, plus the whiskey in the Irish coffee have combined to give me a little buzz. I hardly ever drink whiskey. The booze definitely has something to do with me dancing. I say, "I'll show you a couple of moves, Connor." A new song comes on, and I go, "Try this," and do a basic dance step, saying, "Be sure you move your arms and feet, and that ass of your's a little too. Getting your whole body moving is ideal, but those parts must be moving." He tries to move like I did, then says, "That's not too hard," and he tries it again. Maybe the reason he doesn't think it's hard is because he didn't come close to doing it correctly. I go, "You almost got it," as I glance at Chubby, who's smirking again, his lips trying not to smile. Chubby holds his tongue as I do the move, point by point, and have Connor try each step, "Now try doing all four parts, Connor. You're doing good." There are people coming and going, but the whiskey was just enough to allow us to ignore them even though they all gawk over at us. Most of them smile a nice smile, but one of the groups includes two teenage boys, one of them calls out, "No dancing in the parking lot, girls." Chubby's head snaps around and he snarls, "Come over here and say that, toad!" I go, "They're with their parents, Chubby." To the father's credit, he keeps his attention on his son, yelling at him, "Get in the car, wise guy!" and that's the end of that, but it reminded me that it isn't out of the realm of possibility that Chubby will get us in a fight before the party's over. I say "we" because if one of us gets into a fight the other one will automatically jump right in. It's always been that way: starting a fight with one of us is the same as starting a fight with both of us. I take a deep breath hoping we can avoid fighting, I'm not as anxious to fight as Chubby always seems to be. We lose half the fights anyway, fer christssakes...

The wiseass's comment puts a damper on the dance lesson, so I check my wristwatch, and say, "Jeez, it's almost nine already, lets hit the road," and that's what we do. It takes fifteen minutes to get there, but we need to park three blocks away near the highway, there aren't any open spaces closer. Must be a big party. When we get to the front door I can tell the party has spread out to the back yard, because I see the lights back there and hear music, but we don't see a way to get back there in the dark. "Should I ring the bell?" asks Connor. Chubby tries the door knob and the door opens. He says, "We're invited, no need to ring the bell," and in he goes with Connor standing there waiting for me to go in next. He says, "I feel nervous, Dylan." I smile and pat his shoulder, saying, "There's no reason to be nervous, Connor, stick with me." I know what he means though because I used to be like that with new experiences too. I'd always stick close to Chubby, who I don't believes has ever been nervous in his life. I'm not nearly as bad as I once was 'cause I've discovered there isn't anything to be nervous about; just go with the flow and don't make a spectacle of yourself. I think I had a bit of an inferiority complex when I was a kid... something like that. Chubby says, "Try the door," and it's unlocked so we go inside where we find maybe ten boys and girls in the living room, all of them ignore us as we walk through to the kitchen where we there's a big crowd, including Randy. "Dylan!" he yells, "Come on over here, dude." We make our way through the people and I'm noticing that no one here looks familiar, most of the group must be Randy's brother's friends because they look older than us. Randy gives me the one arm hug, his cheek rubbing mine which is basically a no-no when doing this one-arm hug greeting but I don't mind, and he shakes hands a little too long as well. Strong booze odor on his breath, but he's talking okay. Ignoring Chubby and Connor, Randy gets his arm across my shoulders and pulls he over to one of the kegs, "I'll get ya a beer, dude," and he fills a plastic cup, saying, "You know Harry Black, right?" I go, "Your roommate? Yeah, I know him a little, where is he?" Travis laughs, saying, "That boy is hammered already. I want you to see him, he's pretending he fell asleep in the powder room. Everyone just ignores him when they use the toilet. It's a riot." I'm thinking that this party started way before nine o'clock. I mutter, "I can't wait to see that, Travis, but right now I gotta get my homeboys some beers." Travis starts to say something, but somebody grabs his arm and yanks it. Travis says, "Whassup, George?" George says, "Get that dork roommate of yours out of the fucking powder room. He's goosing the girls when they sit on the toilet." Travis goes into gales of laughter, but allows his brother to drag him off, to the powder room I assume.

Chubby's already poured himself and Connor cups of beer. "Lets go outside, Dylan," Chubby mutters looking around, adding, "It's too crowded in here". Outside a girl screams, "Jeffrey Romaro, what are you doing here?" Then she yells to her girlfriend, "Dottie, Jeffrey's here." Two girls surround Chubby, as he goes, "Yo, look at you two." Chubby and the girls drift over to a group that includes a couple of guys I recognize from Merrimack, but I don't remember their names. I recognize both the girls too, who are both from our college, but I've never spoken to them. Connor asks, "What should we do, Dylan?" I mutter, "We'll stroll around to see if we know anyone, and then maybe just find ourselves a comfortable spot and tie a load on. Okay?" Connor says, "Hope we don't find anyone we know," then he chuckles. He's not very subtle. We do run into Tracy Drake, who's throw all those beer parties Saturday or Sunday afternoons at Merrimack. We stop to talk with him, but he's with his main squeeze so we don't stay long. Other than that I only recognize some kids from high school, but like I said, I never hung out with Travis or his crew so I don't know them. "Looks like it's just you and me for now, Connor," I say, squeezing the back of his neck. We light cigarettes and it obvious Connor's happy to hear we're not going to hook up with anyone. He actually starts a conversation describing his interview with the Army recruiter; he tells me some of the things he expects to encounter at basic training. Connor's very sincere about everything and I can tell from what he's telling me that he's done a lot of background research on what he can expect in the Army. He also appears to be scared to death. I mean, he was nervous coming to this party, so how nervous must he be about what's ahead of him in the Army. My heart aches for him, but he's already joined so there's no turning back. I try saying positive things about how professional our modern Army is, and stuff like that. He gives me his undivided attention for anything I say. Hell, I just enjoy looking at him while he talks or he's listening to me and try not to get too down about his Army talk. I'll always be supportive of him; what a courage life he's led, and will now probably lead once he's in the Army. I admire him tremendously, but I don't want to get maudlin about it. He might misinterpret it as me feeling sorry for him. I do, but no one likes to be pitied.

We see a couple of empty lawn chairs situated just outside the main mass of people and plop down in the chairs; Connor and me, just a couple of wallflowers. Soon we're now on our second beer and second cigarette, mostly just listening to a live high school band that has a pretty good lead singer. This boy singer registers an eight on the cute-o-meter in my brain, but he's young. Connor and I are comfortable and contended enough until two girls come over. I noticed then a little while ago, they were whispering to each other and looking in our direction. They look like twins, cute enough, but I can't tell their ages. One of them says, "Okay, boys, you can't hide over here by yourselves. Dance with us, that's our little brother's band that's playing. They're pretty good, aren't they?" I go, "Yeah they really are, you girls in high school?" The one doing the talking says, "Hey! We're college girls, we go to UMass Amherst. We're sophomores, how about you?" I say, "Merrimack college, but we're too young for you guys, we're freshman." She asks, "Can I have a cigarette?" I hold the box of Marlboro out to her, and she adds, "For Mary too?" I go, "Sure, but we don't dance." She says, "Liar! I know you party-hardy 'cause Travis told us. You can't party without knowing how to dance." I ask, "What else did he tell you?" Then I hold out my Bic and light each of their cigarettes. The talky one says, "Travis says you're a ladies man, and I can already see that you are. Cute too!" I go, "You've been misinformed." She says, "Liar!" and waves a hand at me, saying, "We're twins, I'm Jo and this is Mary." I point at myself, and say, "Dylan," then point at Connor, saying, "We're twins too, he's Connor." She says, "Liar! You're not twins, and we knew your names already, we asked Travis." I can't think of anything else to say and obviously Connor can't, but Jo can. She goes on to tell us much more than we need to know about their sexual activities at UMass. I don't look at Connor, but I'm betting he's blushing. We're finished our cigarettes, so to shut Jo up, I say, "Okay, let's dance, you and me. Mary will need to teach Connor how," glancing at Connor as I say it. He looks like he's going to the guillotine, but he's had enough booze tonight to at least stand up and walk a few steps towards the kids who are dancing, with Mary leading him by the hand. I hear her voice for the first time, she says, "We're the quiet ones, Connor, you and me. We'll do good together." Jo and I take a few steps over to the edge of the dancers and start dancing. I've danced with girls before, it's okay because fast dancing involves almost no touching. Jo kind of has a guy's personality anyway, it struck me kind of funny how she casually says, "Liar!" at each of my lies. It made me smile each time.

We dance through two songs: I'm a better fast dancer than she is, but she's pretty good too and we probably look good together. A group of about a dozen guys and girls took notice and gave us a little hand when we finish. Jo takes my hand on the way back to our seats. Her hand does not feel like a boy's hand, but it isn't giving me the creeps or anything. She sits in Connor's chair and I light a cigarette and hold the box out for Jo, but she shakes her head, and says, "No thanks, for now. I'm going to get us all fresh beers." I like that, usually the girl wants the boy to do the fetching. She's back five minutes later with four cups of beer balanced on a plastic dish just as Connor and Mary return. Mary's still holding Connor's hand and sort of pulling him along, with Connor chuckling and blushing. "How'd it go?" I ask Connor, and he replies, "Not good, I suck." Mary says, emphatically, "You do not suck, Connor! You learn fast." So I don't know who's closer to the truth, not that I care particularly. I'd just as soon go off with Connor and hang out, but how to accomplish that without being rude or hurting the twin's feelings? They're nice looking, average height with nice girlie figures and good personalities, but they're girls and I'm interested in boys. Now I wish Travis was coming on to me again. It's my fault Connor and I got involved with the twins in the first place. It's because of me pretending I'm a straight dude, who's looking to pickin-up a hot chick tonight. That's the impression I gave Travis when we were in the food court at the mall. Travis probably thinks he's doing us a favor turning these girls loose on us, when my purpose in hinting I was a hot-to-trot straight boy was to persuade Travis he's wasting his time coming on to me, if he even actually was coming on to me; I'm not sure about that. Anyway it led to this. How the fuck do I get myself in so many jams?

We drink and smoke with the Jo doing most of the talking. She's pretty funny, self deprecating and all, and when we're just about done our third beers when a rescue occurs. Two guys, older looking guys, come over saying to Jo and Mary, "So this is where you're hiding! Trying to pick-up young meat, huh? Come on, we wanna dance." Mary introduces Connor and me to Hot Dog and Paul; they're the names they go by apparently. Paul says, "Goddammit, Mary, were you smoking again. You said you quit." She goes, "I lied, Paul, get over yourself." He makes a face, resigned to being pussy whipped I guess. The guys are nice enough, but as it turns out they're Mary and Jo's dates for the party and after a few minutes they bid us goodbye. Last words from Mary to Connor and me, are these, "We'll ditch these guys as soon as we can and be back for more dancing and maybe much more than that... hahaha." Connor and I wave, both of us with goofy grins on our faces, happy to be free at last. As they walk away I hear Mary say, "Oh, they are so cute, we had to meet them. They're Travis' friends from college. So innocent that..." and that's all we could hear as they get lost in the crowd. "Whew!" I say to Connor, "Well, we can't stay here any longer. They might be back!" We both laugh with relief and work our way to one of the beer kegs, looking for Chubby as we go. I see him doing his silly dance with a well endowed girl who's even shorter than Chubby. They're both laughing at something, so he's gonna be occupied with her for awhile. Connor says, "We have the time now, Dylan. Um, I mean, can't we mess around just a little bit. I hate to be a nag, but being with you gets me kinda, you know..." I go, "Hot?" He makes a face, mumbling, "Please don't make it sound dirty or, you know..." I say, "Connor, I'd love to mess around with you, but I'm trying to turn over a new leaf and be true to Robby. I wasn't as, um, 'true' to him as I wanted to be in Key West." Connor shrugs, saying, "Okay, I understand. That guy in Key West is lucky though." This sucks! I feel bad for Connor, so I say, "How about a little making out. If we can find a safe spot, that is." He brightens, "Okay, if you want to. I feel bad constantly nagging you, but, you know, I can't help it. Damn, I wish I wasn't gay." I ask, "Who knows you're gay?" He says, "Just you as far as I know." Hmmm, good, he isn't fucking around with that turd, Josh.

We wander around a little, sipping the last drops of beer from our cups, then find a good secluded spot. Connor says, "How 'bout over there, Dylan?" It's a dark area, no light reaches it, except some moonlight, and there's nobody around. We can still hear the music and the conversations that blend together into noise, so we're not very far from the party. But even if someone stumbles by, they probably couldn't see us. I go, "Yeah! Let me taste those lips of yours." Connor makes a strange gulping sound in his throat trying to say something. I take hold of his arm and steer him into some kind of cupola; it's round with a railing and a roof. Wooden benches at the back; there's the sound of a small waterfall close by. Probably a nice spot in nice weather. Im pretty sure the waterfall is fake, but it sounds cosy. Our eyes adjust to the darkness allowing us to see where we're at, and each other. Connor's not too interested in the cupola, he's staring at me with his lips parted. He looks awesome in the limited moonlight available tonight; he looks awesome in any light actually. Without a word, I cup my hand behind his head and bring my lips to his. Of course it feels sexy being lips to lips with him. He hugs around my waist as my tongue meets his for a long French kiss. I slide my wet lips off his and spread some of my saliva on his cheek, then lick around his lips before beginning a long sloppy kiss, and follow that by sucking on his bottom lip, pulling it out some before returning my tongue to his mouth. Connor's tongue is in constant motion as my hand reaches down between his legs to grope his very firm cock, then massage it into a hard boner as a groan escapes his lips. My cock is getting hard too as our mouth-to-mouth sucking and licking continues for another two minutes. The khaki pants of mine that Connor's wearing are very light weight allowing me to get a couple of fingers around his boner to do short strokes near the head, which is now up near his his belt and very hard; I stroke his boner up and down as Connor begins making little squeaky sounds and humping his hips into my hand. Soon he gasps, pulls his mouth off mine and slides his lips to my ear, quietly moaning, "I'm going to cum." His cheek is against my cheek and he moves it slightly, gasping. His hips continue small humps into my boner now. It's so sexy, he smells so boyish as he's continuing to make sounds of pleasure. They're almost cooing sounds, and they create a dreamy intimate atmosphere in the cozy cupola. I stoke his cock up to the head of his boner and now feel wetness where his precum has soaked through the front of the khaki pants. He's total docile, laying against me making his moans of pleasure, his forehead on my shoulder as I give him kisses on the side of his face. The wet spot gets wetter, as he mutters, "This feels so good, Dylan.... sooo good. Please, make it last." My hand is resting on the back of his neck now, and I begin ruffling the hairs at the back of his head, still stroking his incredibly hard boner. It's so nice to be holding this wonderful boy and making him feel good. Who deserves to feel good more than Connor? Tightening my fingers on his cock, I stroke faster, and in less than a minute he humps his crotch hard against me going, "Ahhhh," and apparently he shoots a stream of cum into his pants, then another even harder hump of his hips with him holding his crotch against me doing little up-lifts. My hand has come off his cock so now we're dry docking each other, except he's not dry. Another quick lift of his boner against mine with another moan of ecstasy, then a louder, "Ahhhh!" and the wet spot spreads to cover the entire front of his pants. My fingers are wet with soaked-through cum before I pulled my hand from between us. By now I've dropped a few drips of precum in my pants too. It's so exciting and arousing to bring out a climax for another boy and I share with the immense pleasure Connor's feeling from his climax; the pleasure that comes from climaxing is huge. Connor does one more half hearted hump into me, with a quiet sighing, "Ooohhh," and I assume he's finished. His arms remained hugging me around the waist the whole time. He's basically just laying on me moaning quietly, still pressing his groin against mine.

We stay like that for a minute, then Connor says, "Well, I guess I made another fool of myself. I shoot off so fast when I'm doing anything with you." He sounds embarrassed and the side of his face next to my chin feels hot, so he's probably blushing, but man, I enjoyed that. I wish I could have been there for him for more than basically a kiss and a hand job, but I gotta start using some will power eventually, and this is a decent start. Not totally an example of will power, but not bad... for me anyhow. We back away from each other as we both feel our laps with our fingers. The front of my jeans is almost as wet as his from Connor's lap pressing against mine. He says, "My cum is running down my leg now," which strikes me as funny. The way he said it, like... 'Not only the wet lap, but my cum's running down my leg too!' At least that's the way it sounded, and I chuckle, mumbling, "Aww, that's a shame," and he laughs then too, asking, "What are we gonna do now? Everyone will see our wet crotches." I say, "There's only one thing to do, we'll go back to the Jeep and get our sweatshirts, they hang down below our wet crotches." He's in good spirits after getting his rocks off, and he goes, "You're brilliant!" then, "That felt so good, Dylan. I bet you could make me cum just talking to me." I go, "That'd be a good trick! Let's walk around this way and see if it leads to the street." It does, and we walk the three blocks back to the car, smoking cigarettes. Connor's actually chatty as he describes his orgasm in detail, which surprises the hell out of me. At our car I spot Robby's pickup parked in the last block before the highway. He apparently arrived at the party when Connor and I were having a little fun in the cupola and he's undoubtedly looking for us.

Connor and I put on our sweatshirts, then I put the hood up on Connor's, and look at him. Yep, cuter than it should be legal to be. Love boys in hoodies! I mention to Connor that Robby's pickup is parked back a ways, and he gets flustered, "I hope I haven't gotten you in trouble, Dylan. That's the last thing I want to do." I go, "No worries, Connor. We're getting our sweatshirts, that's all." Then I feel guilty lying so easily to Robby, but, wait a second, I'm not lying, we are getting our sweatshirts. Now, if I can sneak in that Connor wanted a kiss, I'd be telling him almost the whole truth. Yes! That makes me feel better. It's almost like I'm being completely truthful. Okay, that problem's solved. I say to Connor, in an offhanded way, "No need to add anything to what I tell Robby. Okay, dude?" He goes, "I won't say anything." Well, that's normal for Connor anyway so we're good there. Robby's out front when we get back. "There you are!" He says, "Where ya been?" I say, "Nowhere, just getting sweatshirts, it's getting cool out here." He goes, "Yeah, it is. I didn't think to bring one," and he rubs my hair, saying, "I can't get used to that haircut. I saw you two walking up the sidewalk, but that haircut didn't register for a second; I fuckin' didn't recognize you at first. Isn't that weird?" I say, "Nothing about you is weird, Robby," and give him a kiss on the lips. Connor looks down the street as if he's looking for someone, as I kiss Robby. Then Robby says, "Whassup, Connor? Getting drunk yet?" Connor grins, then says, "I guess, Robby," and we walk through the house to the kitchen to use the keg that's there. Filling up a cup, Robby asks about the party, and I tell him about the twins. He goes, "Oh man, I wish I'd seen that scene! How was the dancing, Connor?" Connor goes, "Okay, I guess, Mary was nice. She's a sophomore." Robby starts to say something, but somebody hugs me from behind, startling everyone. It's Chubby of course. He goes, "Come on you deadbeats, we're doing shooters of rum; they're horrible, but it's fun. A couple of the older guys and girls light there shots on fire before chugging them down." I go, "Fuck that! We can't do shooters because Robby just got here and he needs a few beers before tackling something like shots of rum." Chubby goes, "Okay, yeah, that makes sense." He gets Connor around the neck then, saying, "You got no excuses, do ya dude? Come on, I need at least one of my homies from Merrimack to represent our college with me." Connor tries protesting, but Chubby's much too persuasive and Connor obediently walks outside with Chubby's arm around his neck. Poor kid, he doesn't have a chance when Chubby insists on something.

I'm sorry Connor had to be sacrificed, but Chubby will take good care of him, and Connor needs a little walk on the wild side once in awhile anyway; get him ready for the Army. He's with the right boy for that, fer sure. Robby asks, "Is Connor gay?" I go, "Good question," which is a convenient way of avoiding answering him. He goes, "He always seems to be coming on to you; no it's not exactly coming on to you, it's more like he idolizes you. Have you noticed?" I go, "A little, I guess." Then I figure I can slip this in, I say, "It's funny you should asks if he gay because tonight he asked if I'd kiss him. He says he's never kissed a boy before." Well, except me, but that statement is mostly true. Robby opens his eyes wide, saying, "Connor said that?" I go, "He said something like that.' Robby's interested, "Well, did you? Did you kiss him?" I go, "Well, yeah, wouldn't you? We found this hideaway spot, a cupola or something around the side of the house and I kissed him in there." "Did he kiss back?" I shrug, mumbling, "Oh yeah, it was a pretty good kiss, actually." Robby wants to know, "What'd he say after the kiss?" I answer, with another shrug, "I don't remember exactly, something about it was better than he thought it would be, or something like that." Robby's drinking his beer, seemingly more and more interested in this unexpected development, "Well I'll be damned," he says, then laughs, adding, "Oh shit, another boy I've got to keep my eye on when you're around." Then he gets his arm around my neck, pulling me face to face, saying, "You might be more trouble than you're worth, alley cat." I act like I'm hurt, "Don't call me that, Robby. Connor's harmless, and a damn sweet kid too." Robby goes, "I know that, I'm kidding you. Who wouldn't want to kiss you?" and he gives me a big kiss. I'm smiling as I adjust my pecker, saying, "You can get me hard just kissing me, Robby." He says, "Lets find that cupola and we'll test your theory; actually, I need to do you real quick too, hee hee. Is it safe back there?" I go, "I don't know if it's safe enough for that." He says, "Let's take a chance, we've got Connor with us so we might not get a better chance to do it tonight." I take a deep breath, amazed at how much I want Robby's cock inside me. I was calm until Robby mentioned fucking me, and now my dick is all aquiver... I think that's a word. "Okay, Robby, you're the boss of me. If you want to do it in the cupola, then I guess I do too." He says, "I'm a little nervous about it, to be honest, but the thought of doing you there, in the open, has me all horned-up, dude. I'm excited! Let's go. Bring the beers as our cover."

This is crazy, but it's the way lasting memories are made... spur of the moment shit. When Robby and me are thirty years old, God forbid, Robby will say, "Dylan, remember that night I fucked you at that party. We fucked outside, twenty feet from fifty college kids... hahaha." Or something like that. Of course if we get caught doing it, we'll probably want to forget it, certainly by the time we're thirty. We go out the back door and there's Travis with a large group of loud kids around a table. He yells, "Dylan! Get your ass over here for a flaming shot." I say to Robby, "I'll do one to be sociable, you can say you just got here and need a beer first." Robby says, "Hell no, I'll do one too if you're going to." So we go over with fake high spirits, me saying, "What's this nonsense about, Travis?" He says, "Your brother and his friend from Merrimack are doing shots there at the back table in the college competition." I mutter, "He's not my brother," as a thought hits me, and I'm thinking, "Oh fuck, Chubby's probably going to be throwing up tonight and hung over tomorrow, which means I'll have to prepare the Sunday brunch myself while making up lies why Chubby didn't help. And, horrors, I'll have to absorb all the mom's attention alone. And, poor Connor can't say no to Chubby, so he'll probably be fucked-up too before the night's over." Resigned that I can't do anything about that situation, I say, "Okay, but I can only do one shot, or I'll barf all over the table. That's a guarantee! Am I right, Robby?" He goes, "Yeah, and he sprays his barfs, sometimes he does a tilt-a-whirl barf, turning in a circle as the puke's coming out." The guys are frowning, and one of the older girls gets up and takes a step back, saying, "Do a shot cutie, I'd like to see that tilt-a-whirl thing, but from a distance." I grin, saying, "That's a slight exaggeration," nodding my head in Robby's direction. Ten shots glasses are poured by Travis, including one for Robby. Travis says, "Ready?! On the count of three, all the way down." At least they didn't light the rum on fire. At the count of "Three" we all throw the rum in our mouths and swallow. It takes me three horrible swallows to get the ounce of rum down my throat. Oh my God, the burn, then the nauseous feeling as saliva invades my mouth and it appears that I actually am going to puke, but my system rallies and the need to throw-up fades. Tears run down my cheeks as I gag, everyone except Robby is laughing at me and patting me on the back. When I can stop gagging and coughing, I laugh a little with relief. Then look at how calm Robby is, and just know he still has the rum in his mouth. I say to him, "Let get some water." Then to the group, "Thanks, that was delightful, lets all meet here in ten years and do it again," and everyone laughs, even though it wasn't very funny. So, that went pretty good, mostly because they're all drunk to start with.

Robby and I go back inside the kitchen where he spits the rum in the sink, and chuckles. "I almost swallowed this shit trying not to laugh at you. You're face was so red!" He looks really cute with that smile on his face. I squeeze the back of his neck and run my hand up the hair on the back of his head. Such soft hair; like I used to have. Chuckling with Robby, I say, "You prick, I knew you didn't swallow it! And, I saved your ass too." He goes, "How'd ya do that?" I go, "By suggesting we get some water, of course." "Oh yeah, but ha ha, you were so funny." He goes, "Okay, enough about that, I'm going to fill your ass up again. Come on, we'll go out that side door off that room with the washing machine and dryer." I ask, "We really going to do this outside with all those kids milling around?" He says, "Get moving, I need me some Dylan ass." Gee, I like his take-charge attitude here; it's hot! Robby's got a hold of my arm pulling me out the door, chuckling again. Damn, this is cool, but oh so stupid too! The door's locked and Robby needed to fiddle with the latch for a few seconds, mumbling in frustration, but then the lock clicks, and out we go into the night. The cupola is twenty feet away; only half of it is visible in the moonlight, which is a good thing. We can stand in the back part and maybe we won't get caught fucking in a outdoors cupola; I guess saying 'outdoors cupola' is redundant, it would have to be outdoors. My heart is pounding; a little from the expectation of Robby fucking me and a little because I'm nervous we'll be caught doing it. Robby keeps pulling my arm, leading me to the cupola. "Is that it? We're heading in the right direct, right, Dylan?" I whisper, "Yeah, but keep your voice down." He whispers back, "Scaredy-cat." I whisper, "What's with all the cat references tonight? Alley cat, scaredy cat..." No reply from Robby, just a nervous sounding giggle. As soon as we're at the back of the cupola I pull my pants down to my knees right away; I don't want Robby to do it because he might feel the cum wetness on the front of my jeans. He says, "Aww, you're anxious, aren't you?" I mutter, "No, I just want us to hurry." He does his nervous giggle again, like we're two little kids sneaking down to the Christmas tree before our parents get up. Robby says, "I'm not hurrying, I need to fuck my boyfriend properly". That comment sounds a little like one Willie might make and it has me groping my cock. Robby says, " No, Dylan! You know I like to fuck your spunk out of you; put your hands at your side." I like that too, and do what he says. He wraps his arms around my belly and pulls my back against him. Robby has his pants down to his knees too; I feel them at the back of my legs, and I feel his bare cock against my buttocks. He squirms a little to get his soft cock in between my ass cheeks, asking, "Feel good, Dylan?" I say, "Yes, but keep your voice down, Robby." He does the giggling thing again, and then moves his hips making his cock slide up and down in my crack. It firms up quickly. I exhale a long breath, thinking that the exhale sounded too loud coming out of my mouth.

In the background the music and loud voices are very clear and seem very near, not more than twenty feet away, just around the corner of the house. Except for that, it's very isolated here. There aren't any houses close by which is probably why the cops haven't broken this party up yet. As Robby's cock becomes a hard boner, my cock firms up too, feeling very nice. The sexiness of Robby's body against my back, and his hard cock against my ass makes me temporarily forget the craziness of doing this here. I take another deep breath, letting it out slowly and quietly, as I finally feel relaxed in Robby's arms. As usual I concentrate on the smell of him and the feel of him and my cock gets harder. Soon my dick is hard enough to make the transition from being sideways to pointing up at my chin; oh God, this feels so good! Still holding my arms against my sides with his arms around my belly button, he whispers, "Here we go, Dylan," and he moves his hips back. I feel the head of his boner, which he had pointing down, move up my right buttocks, and he pokes the head but misses my asshole. "Damnit," he mutters, and takes his right arm from around me to line up his boner. "There we go," he whispers, as his arm comes back around me and I wait impatiently for penetration. He's pressing my anus with the head of his fat cock, just parting the lips there. I wait a few seconds, licking my other lips, then whisper in kind of a whine, "Come on, Robby..." He giggles again, quietly saying, his lips touching my ear, "I love that you want it so badly, Dylan. I love that," and he pushes in, just the head of his boner. I take another big inhale as my boner gets harder yet. "Ohhh," is what comes out of me, I couldn't help it. This feels ridiculously good. 'Do I really need it so badly?' I ask myself, in my mind. The answer I get back is, yes you do. It's because Willie broke me in, or something, I always liked sex before, but now, after Willie dominated me and fucked me so often in such a short period of time, I think I need it too. Why do I over-analyze everything? 'Just enjoy yourself', that's what I tell myself now... good advise. Robby bites my ear, then sucks on my earlobe and earring. I leans my head against his face and he sticks his tongue in my ear filling my ear with saliva as he's pushing his cock up my ass, filling me up back there too. It doesn't hurt at all; my rectum has been properly conditioned by the last ten days of frequent fucking. When he withdraws and then drives his cock back up my ass, I moan and try arching my back and pushing my ass back at his boner, but he's holding me too tightly; my back only arches a little bit, but I can still push my ass at him. He moves his tongue from my ear and takes a few quick breaths, then asks, "Feeling good for you, Dylan?" I gasp, nodding my head slightly, mumbling, "The best, Robby; it feels the best," and he begins fucking me fast, a dozen awesome thrusts inside me, then stops as precum drools down my boner to wet the front of my nuts.

Robby's breathing hard for a second, then we hear a roar from the backyard. Somebody doing shots probably hurled. Robby does his nervous giggle, followed by, "I'm getting nervous hearing all those voices, Dylan. It sounds like they're right next to us. I'm going to do my famous rabbit fuck to get us both off so we can get the hell out of here." He means get the hell out of the cupola, I guess; or maybe this situation. We're both too far gone to stop now. Holding me even tighter he begins fucking me as fast as I've ever been fucked, bringing to mind Dodger doing me like this when he interrupted his haircut to fuck me. Robby obviously does Dodger like this when they don't have much time, and that's where Dodger got the idea. Whatever, the faster Robby drives his cock up my ass the harder my boner gets until it almost aches with tightness and begins to drop down to point straight out from my body. I'm making little "Un" noises with each fast hump and my balls quickly move heavily to the top of my scrotum. When I feel Robby's first shot of cum inside me, he grunts and moans quietly, and I fire off a long stream of cum and writhe in his arms, my hips thrusting out to fire off fast moving spurts of creamy teen spunk that splats on the floor, spurt by spurt. I want to scream with the awesome sensations on my cock and in my ass, but somehow change a scream of pleasure to whimpering sounds that have Robby going, "Shh, shh, Dylan," in my ear again. It's the same ear he filled with his spit so his words sound like they're an echo from some place else. My breathing is fast and my heart's beating faster. My shoulders shake and chills run around my body as the waves of climax sensations abate and I can see clearly again. Robby's out of breath when he, in a hushed voice, says, "Oh God, Dylan, that was fantastic!" Then he pulls out, saying, "Let's get out of here," as cum drools from my ass to run down the back of my legs. I feel dizzy, but wonderful at the same time. Sort of begging, I whisper, "Please, Robby, put it back in me for just another minute." He sounds exasperated, mumbling, "Oh, okay, but just a minute," and then slides his still hard cock back up my ass as I go, "Ahhhh, yeah." Robby humps my ass a few time, again doing his nervous giggle, muttering, "If you get us caught..." and then we hear two voices right in front of the cupola, not eight feet away from us.

to be continued.... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com

Please consider a tax deductible contribution to nonprofit free site Nifty. Details on the site. Thank you.