DYLAN"S FRESHMAN YEAR
Chapter 33
by Donny Mumford
Spring break is over except for the rest of this Sunday afternoon, but what an unbelievable spring break it was for me! These last ten days I'll remember all my life. So many things happened to me during a relatively short period of time that it'll take me awhile sorting it all out. The highs and lows were, at times, very high and very low; exhilarating, terrifying, and annoying at times too. The annoying parts came at the beginning of the Key West trip, and Key West is where the terrifying moments were too. In Key West there were so many twists of fate it boggled my mind any number of ways. As I drive, letting these thoughts cross my mine, there's a calmness in our Jeep; the music is low because Chubby's sleeping against Connor's shoulder, and Connor's been dozing on and off for most of the ride too. They're both suffering the after effects of that shots-of-rum drinking contest that's left them hungover and beat-up; only college kids would be dumb enough to engage in that sort of nutty endeavor. Anyway, I'm more or less alone with my thoughts at the moment, and I'm enjoying this quiet time. We're driving back to North Andover and our apartment; tomorrow morning it's back to Merrimack College. Our freshman year has been a success thus far although not quite the awesome experience I envisioned when I was contemplating college during my high school senior year. It's been wicked cool fer sure, but we still need to work part-time jobs and the academic workload has been more than I anticipated, so the party-time has suffered. Not that we haven't partied because we have, but our other responsibilities of school work, jobs, and keeping up the apartment turned-out to be more than I expected. No, no... I'm not complaining; like Connor, I thought this was the best year of my life; maybe except for my early years when it was just mostly Chubby and me. Obviously growing-up has it's plusses and minuses, that's something that become more apparent to me with each year that passes by, but the plusses are still outnumbering the minuses by a wide margin. Of course we're still just college students, and that's helping with the plusses, but when we're working stiffs, what then? That's a lifetime away though, so I'm not going to spend more than a few seconds thinking about it.
The Willie fiasco early in the spring break is, by far, the most noteworthy development on a number of levels. I mean, how often does someone you're with try killing themselves? That trip to Key West had it's bizarre moments; lot's of them actually. Willie started out with his woe-is-me feeling sorry for himself attitude, and then it got ten times worse when his father cut him off financially, culminating in Willie's attempted suicide. What a horrific experience that was, for me I mean. Willie too obviously, but he was the 'cause of it all so it's hard to feel sorry for him on that count, although I did after the fact. I helped him build up his self-confidence and then he took-off totally in the opposite direction, turning the tables on me by becoming more dominant then ever. That quick turn-around is curious. Willie told me, when he was totally in charge of us again, that he was just following his "plan". He'd apparently formed some plan in his head to 'win me back', which should be flattering to me except, like I said, it's curious. Was he faking his doldrums to get my sympathy? He couldn't have faked the letter from his father, and his reaction to the letter was too real to have been faked; he'd need to be the best actor since... I don't know who, if he was acting. No, the letter and his reaction were real, but was the suicide attempt faked? Could he have caught himself by grabbing the railing if I hadn't caught him first? It would have been just as dramatic either way. Hmmm, that's pretty far fetched, but he did mentioned that 'plan' he had. I should have pressed him for more details, but by then I was so deeply into my submissive fetish and enjoying myself to the fullest. Ha ha, that submissive shit is money, pure gold for me. I mean, if you get off on it like I do it's a rush like few others. Damn, I really let myself go with the flow, full steam ahead with the submissive stuff. It's probably a bad thing to allow a fetish to overwhelm one's common sense, but it was only for a few days; a trip to fantasy land for a few days... what the fuck. Guess it was lucky Willie got the food poisoning because that put a stop to my run-away submissiveness to him. I can't explain the thrill of having sex under that dominant/submissive umbrella; it's there, that's all I know. I attribute unknowns, like strange things in my subconscious brain which I'm totally unaware of, as influencing me to certain degrees. Maybe the subconscious thing is another rationalization on my part, but it's the best I can come up with.
The submissive thing is a fascinating topic to me. For Willie to be fucking me with his dominant state of mind, the one he was in by the end of our trip, requires both his dominance and my submissiveness; if either one is missing it would just be a big mess. A guy with a dominant personality would never put up with the stuff Willie did with me; it'd end-up in a fist fight. Even a guy without a dominant personality who was submissive, wouldn't put up with Willie's act and I wonder if that's what finally happened between Andy and Willie. There's more to that tale, fer sure! But with me, the stronger Willie's dominant behavior became, the more submissive I became. It was a sexual thrill for me, a short sexual thrill that nothing else can match. And, who doesn't like a momentary short-term thrill that takes you someplace you rarely, or never go. Most people yearn for a thrill, not just me. Not necessarily a sexual thrill; I mean, why else do people flock to roller coaster rides and the other thrill rides on the Wildwood boardwalk, like the double-shot or wild mouse, and others too. They stand in line paying good money for a momentary thrill they don't experience in their normal lives. Sexual relations are always a thrill for me anyway; I'm hooked on the high I get from sex, big time! Certainly not just with Willie's kind of sex. When Robby and I fuck it's thrilling for me too, but not to the extreme of Willie's dominant fucks. There's the awesome climax in both, of course, but the hint of danger, the thrill, isn't the same with Robby. That being said, I much prefer having sex with Robby and the reason for that: love is involved. But that doesn't mean I don't get off on the other kind as well. Robby and me making sexual love is my normal life, but what's so wrong about taking the roller coaster ride with Willie once in a while too. Especially since Robby changed his mind again about having a closed relationship; he wants some leeway so he can alley-cat around a little while we're young. There's something else about this thrill ride thing: when I was boyfriends with Willie, for almost two years, and routinely experiencing the thrill-sex with Willie, that became my "norm" and the love between Robby and me, with lesser-thrill, became sort of my new thrill-sex. Jesus, my head is spinning, but I think I hit on something here; cracked one of the mysteries I've run into in life. Taking it a step further, that's probably exactly what happened nine months ago. Ha! Yeah, I got so use to Willie's kind of dominant sex it wasn't as thrilling anymore, it became familiar. Robby's loving sex became what I craved for more and so I broke-up with Willie. Man, am I fucked-up, or what! Anyway, I made the right decision back then because I realize it's Robby's love that trumps everything else. It's just a matter of moderation with Willie, and that I should only play with that kind of fire for awhile; I don't want to get burned. My goal is to end it by the end of the summer, that seems like a realistic time frame. Need to start growing-up for real when I'm twenty years old... until then play with fire a little, but be careful too.
I'm still trying to figure out Willie's mysterious mention of his "plan", which he claims resulted in me falling back in love with him. I almost thought I did for a couple of days there, but as soon as I got back to the real world I realized that I hadn't fallen back in love with Willie. Certainly not the way Willie claims I did. More thoughts just occurred to me regarding Willie possibly staging his suicide attempt. They seem farfetched on the surface, but he just might have done it because of two factors. One, he's athletic enough to think he could pull it off and, two, he was as drunk as you can get... a potentially lethal combination. I watched him drink about ten little bottles of various kinds of hard liquor in an hour and a half, so he wasn't faking being drunk. Okay, on the one hand he was drunk enough to hatch that plan, but on the other, he was probably too drunk to pull it off. Of course, being as drunk as Willie was, to him the impossible may have seemed plausible to his drunken brain. I've never been nearly that drunk, I've never even been as drunk as Connor was last night; so I'm only guessing that a totally inebriated Willie may have thought. Maybe he thought that attempted suicide would be just the thing to bring me to my senses, and make me realize I need to love him. It's insane and makes no sense on numerous levels, but drunks don't care about what makes sense. Still, it seems unlikely, but then, what is the 'plan' he mentioned? Enough already! I want to think about something else. I'll come right out and ask him about it when I see him; maybe I can detect if he's lying from his explanation.
Wishing I could smoke a cigarette now, but realizing that's a no-no in the Jeep, I stop thinking about that too. Thinking about a cigarette though, brings to mind Dodger smoking one while fucking me. God, that was kind of hot! That kid wasn't my only fuck the past ten days though, not by a long shot. I've never had a ten day period like the past ten days. Willie fucked me so much my rectum toughened-up. It's led to more enjoyable fucks since then too, so I gotta give him props for that. Oh my God, there was also sexual activities with Pedro, Dodger, numerous fucks from my true love, Robby, and then, of course, my bro Chubby surprised me with a nice fuck too. And that's not even mentioning me fucking two climaxes out of Connor. And, it seemed like there was more sexual activity than the ones I've thought of too, not that that's not plenty already. Thing is, the more I fuck, the more I want it. Oh well, that won't be a problem since I'm sleeping with Robby for the next month. But after that, I'm not sure what the case will be. Without our apartment this summer Robby and I will only have his pickup to fuck in. Can't use my condo 'cause I never know when Chubby might bop in to surprise me. Or mom will come home early from work to get something she forgot; who knows what that might be, but it's not unheard of at all. But why should I waste my time worrying about a month from now, that seems far away to me at this moment. Oh, I do have something else to consider: Willie's projected trips to Merrimack, and he's expecting they will be a sleep-overs for me and him in a motel room. Oooh, that'll be dicey to say the least. Yeah, that's a concern. I'm surprised I haven't heard from him, actually because it's been over two days. He said he'd call me Saturday. Guess his food poisoning is still bothering him. Maybe I should call to see how he's doing. No, he'll misinterpret that as me needing him to fuck me, like he predicted I would. I don't 'need' him to fuck me, although it'd be nice. And he told me not to call him for some reason. Hell, I've got Robby and a few other candidates that'll be happy to keep me busy, if this past few days are anything to go by, that is... haha. Alley-cat existence indeed! Robby coined that phrase for me, but he didn't mean it in a mean way. Of course if he knew the whole story, then he'd mean it in a mean way. It's just for the summer though, then we've agreed to be true to only each other, which will be just as good, maybe. There might need to be an initial adjustment period, but there is with all new things.
Connor opens his eyes, asking, "Did I doze off, Dylan?" I go, "Only for forty-five minutes, Connor. We're on route 125 and we'll be back at the college in about ten minutes." "Wow," he exclaims, "I'm still feeling remnants of my hangover, but I'm not complaining because I've a great time the past couple of day, Dylan. It's like I've actually done something on a spring break; never could say that for my high school spring breaks." It's heartbreaking to hear something like that. Chubby and I didn't do anything special in our senior year, but before we were working stiffs the moms would plan their vacation around either our winter or spring break, and we'd all go away together. When we were younger, we'd go to to Disney World in Florida. We never stayed in the park because that's too expensive, but the moms would look for bargains at motels or hotels within driving distance, and they'd rent a car. Man, was that fun! Some years, after middle school, we'd concentrate on the Universal's theme park, and places like that. Getting away from the New England winters, or even the cool springs was a blast. Chubby and me would go on all the rides together... those were the days. It seems that the older we get the less options there are to indulge the 'child' that's still part of us. The moms did contemplate taking us to a warm place this winter break to just swim. There aren't many places that have warm weather and a night life for teenagers though, like summers in Wildwood with it's beach, swimming pool at the motel, and then the boardwalk at night. None of this would I ever mention to Connor 'cause it might bring him down. You know, realizing all he's missed in his childhood because of his dysfunctional parents. I skirted his comment about the last two days with us guys; the one where he said this is the best spring break he's ever had, and instead say, "Lets do more stuff together this last month of our freshman year, Connor. I'm gonna miss you when you go away in the Army." He says, "I'd love that, Dylan, and maybe we could do what we did together, um, in bed again too." I was afraid of that, but I say, "Maybe, Connor. That was awesome, dude." He goes, "It sure was. Best thing that ever happened to me. It was my lucky day running into you at Dunkin' Donuts." I ask, "Why don'cha ever call me on my cell phone, Connor. We can hook-up, and even if we don't do the bedroom stuff, there's other things to do; like the bowling I mentioned. I need to see when Cory's up for it again first." He says, "Count me in, just give me a holler. And I don't call you because I don't want to bother you." I say, "Beliieve me, you never bother me. I'll call you, how's that?" He goes, "Anytime, Dylan."
As I'm pulling into the entrance of Merrimack college to drop Connor off at his dorm, Chubby wakes-up, and without opening his eyes, asks, "Where we at, Dylan?" Giving Connor a smirk, I say, "We're just getting on route 128, dude." Chubby mutters, "Fuck it then, I'm going back to sleep." Connor chuckles. Two minutes later we're right outside Connor's dormitory. I park illegally at the door, then give Connor a hug, saying, "It's been real, dude. Don't take any shit from your roommate or Chubby and I will need to kick his ass." Connor give a nervous chuckle at my comment, then says, "I don't know how to thank you enough for letting me hang with you and your homies, it's been wonderful, Dylan." Before I can say anything he leans over and gives me an awkward kiss near my mouth. A blush comes up on his face, as he asks, "Shall I get out your side, Dylan?" Glancing at the sleeping Chubby, I murmur, "Good idea," and get out, with Connor following right after me. We stand there a second, taking awkwardness to levels never reached before, until I squeeze the back of his neck, mumbling, "Don't ever change, Connor... you're perfect just like you are." He mumbles, "Oh, I'm so sure that's true. Thanks again, Dylan," and he holds his hand out to shake. I take a look around, then take his hand and pull him over to give him a quick kiss on the lips, saying, "See ya around campus, dude." He does a little grin, then reluctantly heads up the three steps to the dormitory's front door. At the door he turns back, I knew he would, so I waited for it before getting back in the Jeep. One last wave and one last grin from Connor, and then he's inside. I climb back in the Jeep wondering if I've done any good for him the last couple of days, or have I planted false hope in him for doing, um, whatever. Taking a deep breath, I tell myself to think positively and take Connor at his word. He said he had a great time, so feel good about that; and that's what I do.
There's no close parking spots to our apartment when I drive into the Royal Crest's lot, so that's a pain in the ass. They should have assigned parking, ya know? Morons! I park a block away, then shake Chubby's shoulder, "We're back, Chubby, wake-up." He says, "No way, Dylan, don't pull my chain, dude. No way you got from route 128 to our apartment this fast." Then he opens his eyes, asking, "Where's Connor?" It's just after four o'clock in the afternoon. The days gloomy, but it isn't raining at least. I say to Chubby, "Connor's in the trunk, he was snoring so I made him get in the trunk." "What the fuck...?" Chubby sputters, shaking his head to clear the sleep cobwebs. Then he says, "Hey, we are at the apartments, but you parked in front of the wrong building, ya knucklehead." I go, "Duh! You mean this isn't our building?" He looks at me with a little grin on his face, saying, "Quit breaking my balls, bro, I'm wicked hungover. I didn't have you to take care of me last night, so I didn't get a head start on dealing with this hangover; it's your fault I'm so messed-up. That damn Robby dropped me off like a piece of luggage. Didn't even have the decency to take my clothes off and get me in bed so I could get a good night's sleep. What's with...?" I don't hear the rest of his rant, I'm outside the Jeep getting our satchels out of the back seat. Chubby's like, "Hey, where'd ya go, Dylan?" I have myself a little chuckle imagining the horrible hangover Chubby's still dealing with. It takes a full twenty-four hours, at least, to get back to feeling normal again. I call out, "I'm letting Connor out of the trunk." Chubby mutters, "Our Jeep don't even have a trunk, dude. What kind of bullshit are you feeding me?" He gets out and I give him a hug, saying, "Thanks for the entertainment, Chubby, hehheh." He goes, "Entertainment my ass, I need some Tylenol." I hit the lock button on the Jeep's key thingie, saying,"Come on, bro, follow me. We got Tylenol at the apartment." I'm carry both satchels 'cause Chubby would probably drop his halfway down the block and leave it there. I ask, "What happened to the Chubby who had everyone laughing while telling lies about him fixing brunch, earlier today? Huh?" Chubby mumbles, "I was still half drunk then and when I finally sobered-up all hell broke loose. I've felt likes shit since about one or two o'clock, and how come you're not hungover?" I go, "Because I'm mature and don't indulge myself in childish shots-of-rum drinking contests. That why?" He mutters, "Well ain't you special though," and I break-out laughing. It just struck me as such a funny statement from Chubby. He tries to stay pissed-off, but ends up hugging my neck, laughingly saying, "You're basically a prick, but no one knows it but me. Everyone thinks butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. You know, they think you're like sweet, considerate, Dylan Newman, but I'm onto you, dude, and I'm spreading the word too." I go, "Oh no, not that!" He's chuckling, muttering, "I can't wait till the next time you tie a load on. Oh boy, you'll get no sympathy from me, bro." Then, "Here, give me my bag, Dylan. It's too late to try being Mr. Nice guy."
Inside the apartment I'm expecting an awesome greeting from Robby, but there's no sign of him. Hmmm, Ryan Wilcocks lives in a dorm room with a roommate, so they're not getting it on there. Then I think, "Oh no! Not in Robby's pickup, that's Robby's and my spot for doing sexy stuff!" Chubby looks at me, asking, "Why are you just standing there holding your satchel?" I go, "Huh, what? Oh, yeah, just chillin' after the drive. The traffic was a bitch." He gives me a funny look, asking, "Ya sure? You okay?" I say, "Just a touch of the hangover you don't think I have." He's not buying it, but has other things on him mind, "Where are the Tylenol, Dylan?" Then, "Where's Robby? I thought he beat us back here." Then I remember, "Oh, they also have an afternoon baseball practice, indoors. I forgot." Chubby ask again, "The Tylenol?" I go, "Oh, yeah. I'll get it for you, Chubby. It's in the kitchen cabinet." Dropping my satchel I go in the kitchen feeling relief. How'd I forget Robby was at practice? I'm always ready to assume the worst. Maybe that's because I'm usually doing 'the worst' myself. I mean, in Robby's eyes, if he knew it all. End of the summer, it's over! Then my alley-cat days are history; I hope. "Do ya want a Coke with the Tylenol, Chubby?" He's plopped himself on a chair in the living room. He goes, "God yeah, that sounds great. I can't get enough liquids in me." I give him the Tylenol bottle and the Coke, feeling relieved about Robby. That green monster, jealousy, was on me for a second, but I'm good. Taking my satchel into Robby's and my bedroom, I give another thought to how curious it is Willie hasn't called. Checking my cell phone I see a text message from Robby saying, "Don't you dare leave the apartment till I get there." And one from Connor, sent five minutes ago, "Thanks again, Dylan!" and one from Cory Dunlevy, "I think we're on the same shift Monday." Wonder why he texted me that, but it reminds me to call our supervisor and ask for next week's schedule. Stop & Shop is open seven days a week, so I might need to work next weekend. "Chubby, I'm gonna get my schedule for Stop & Shop, do you want me to ask for yours too?" He's on the hopper in the bathroom, with the door open, so we can talk conversationally. He goes, "Yeah, I guess, but I hope I'm not on tomorrow! I need to recover."
"Whatever, " I mutter, and call the store getting Rudy Rider on my first try. He's taken over as supervisors for us part-times. Asshole, Alan Snyder, got promoted and at Stop & Shop that means you get transferred to another store. In Alan's case he's now working at the Methuen store. I'll be sure to stay away from that place. I still get embarrassed thinking about what an ass I made of myself with that guy. I made an ass out of myself, then he made a bigger ass out of me. It hurts to get so outsmarted by a dork like that. I can't believe I ever thought he was hot. 'Forget it, Dylan,' I tell myself. Our new supervisor, Rudy, is okay. He's not cute or anything, and definitely not gay; most guys aren't actually... haha, and too bad for them. Rudy started working at this store in his junior year of high school and this is his fifth year, so he's not much older than me. He's a regular enough guy, no self-importance or arrogance, but he could use a little personality transplant, and he's not good with names. I go, "Yo, Rudy, how they hangin'? This is Dylan and I'm calling... He says, "Right, you're Dylan Romero, right?" I go, "Um, no, not Romero, that's Jeffrey. I'm Dylan Newman, and I need to know my schedule for next week." He asks, "Your wrist is healed already? That's fast, dude." I'm confused for a second, "Huh? No, I was on spring break, you're thinking of Danny Neusone, he has the broken wrist." "You the new kid?" he asks. I'm making a face, then say, "Un uh, that's Cory Dunlevy. Um, Rudy, could ya just read Dylan Newman's schedule to me, I'll reintroduce myself on my first shift." He goes, "Oh, okay," and reads it to me. I write what he tells me on a paper towel that I ripped off for that purpose. When I've got it down, I ask, "And what's Jeffrey's schedule?" He asks, "Um, is that Dunlevy? I go, "No, it's Romero." And I copy Chubby's schedule, then say, "Thanks, Rudy!" He goes, "No problem, Jeffrey." That could have gone better, but hey, maybe Rudy's just plain stupid; forget that other stuff I said about him. Well Cory was right, I am working tomorrow... at four. I'm not really hurting for money, but I want to finish out the semester with Stop and Shop so I don't leave them short handed, and also I'll have a better chance of getting a job next year if I fulfill my commitment this year. Chubby comes up behind me, done with the toilet. He asks, "Did ya get my schedule?" I go, "Yeah, hey, did ya wash your hands? Don't be touching my paper towel if you didn't." He laughs, saying, "Yes, I washed my hands, mommy. Let me see!" He reads it going, "YES! I don't have a shift until Wednesday. I should be recovered by then." I go, "That's if you don't tie another load on between now and then." He goes, "No way, dude! I learned my lesson. Hangovers suck!"
I'm putting a few things away, and then getting ready to take a wash load to the basement when my cell makes that little sound that tells me a text message just came in. It's another one from Connor. "How 'bout that haircut, Dylan?" I text back, "I'd rather not today, how 'bout tomorrow night?" A text comes right back, "It's a date!" Hmmm, wish he used a different word, but it's okay. Carrying a basket of clothes to the basement, it's the the load of dirty clothes I should have done before leaving for spring break, I yell to Chubby and tell him where I'm going. On the way down in the elevator, a troubling thought pops into my head: 'What'd I do with those girlie undies I washed with my stuff at home? Jesus! I think I put them away with my regular clothes, probably mixed in with my underwear. Damn! Well, mom never goes in my drawers; why would she. I'm not working this coming weekend so I'll drive home and bring them back here to hide them someplace in our bedroom, but wait... I did hide them. Don't know why I don't just throw them out. And why do I always have something to worry about? Outside the laundry area I use our apartment key to open the door and find Scott Tinsdale dumping a load of dirty clothes into one of the washing machines. I ask, "Scott, dude, wha'cha doing here? You live in a dorm." He's like, "Hey Dylan, you guys live in this building?" I ask, "Where's Ears?" Scott and Ears are roommates, seemingly inseparable. It's the first time all year I've ever seen one without the other. They are not gay, however... they're just a little goofy, although both have a GPA's near the top of our class. Scott dumps in some detergent, asking, "How was your spring breaks?" and I laugh because he answers all my questions with one of his own. I go, "Scott, between the two of us, we've asked about a half dozer questions, without either of us getting a single answer to any of them." He goes, "Whaddya, mean?" smiling, 'cause he purposely asked another question. I say, "Okay, here's my answers to your questions: Yes, we live in this apartment building. My spring break was awesome. And the answer to your, 'Whaddya mean' question, I refer you to the same three questions I asked you a minute ago." Scott's smirking, taking a pull on a can of Becks beer. He goes, "I know that I live in a dorm, Dylan, but the washing machines are always in use there, plus ya gotta pay for the fuckin' things. I'm here because these are free, and available. As to where Ears is; he's at the dorm suffering from a wicked case of sunburn that he got when we were in Fort Lauderdale; he refuses to use sun screen because he says it's got chemicals in it. We got back yesterday, and our spring break was awesome. Plus, we came this close," as he holds his thumb and index finger an inch a part, "to getting laid too." I say, "Ouuu, that close, huh?" He shuts the lid to the washing machine, muttering, "Yeah, two Babson babes. A tad overweight, but hugh racks and big asses, it would have been something." I'm not interested in that, so I ask, "How'd ya get in here, Scott? Ya gotta have a key for the door." He takes another drink of beer, finishing it off; then opens another one from three he's brought with him in his laundry basket. Holding the beer out to me, he asks, "Ya want some?" I shake my head, muttering, "No, thanks." Taking a swallow, and he addresses my last question with, "You need a key, Dylan, not me. I have other ways of getting in here. I'm surprised I haven't run into you before 'cause I'm here once a week." I go, "Yeah, it's a miracle since I'm in here once a week too, on different days at different times. Don't know how I missed ya." He chuckles, mumbling, "I hear ya, dude."
I get my washing machine loaded and running and then, even though you're not suppose to smoke in here, I light a cigarette, offering one to Scott. He declines, then stumbles over this bizarre question, "Um, Dylan, dude. I, ya know, been wanting to ask you something. Heh heh, it's kinda awkward though. Ah, just wondering, are you gay by any chance?" I totally did not expect that from him. Raising my eyebrows, I go, "That's an unexpected question, Scott. Why would you ask me that?" He goes, "Oh, no offense intended! I just, um... maybe I will have a cigarette, if you don't mind." I get my pack out, looking at Scott a little closer. He's not really cute at all, but his smile is. A lot of boys aren't particularly cute until they smile. Scott has thin, really red lips in the perfect bow shape, plus big dimples when he smiles and, like someone else I've seen recently, he's got narrow teeth, pure white and the front two are slightly longer than the other top teeth giving him that very youthful appearance. I hold out my bic for him, and as he leans over, cupping my hands to steady the flame and I notice he also has nice eyes with those narrow, well formed, eyebrows I admire. That being said, I have absolutely no intentions of getting into anything sexy with him. He takes a drag, going, "Mmmm, nice. I quit smoking when I started here at Merrimack, but maybe I'll take it up again; kind of a rush, ya know." I just look at him, without comment... a questioning expression on my face, like it's time for him to explain himself. He chuckles nervously, then goes, "The reason I ask is, I've been thinking of expanding my horizons a bit. You know, delving into the world of bisexuality. Jeez, that thoughts been there at the back of my mind since middle school fer chrissakes, heh heh. But, I'm basically hetero, I know that, and I never have had the guts to give my curiosity a try. Heh heh, and like I said, Ears and I have totally stuck-out with the babes here at Merrimack, so..." He stops there, so I ask, "Yeah, but why would you ask me?" He looks surprised, then says, "Come on, man! You're sexy looking, surely people, guys and girls, have told you that. I just took a chance and I've been pounding down beers since one o'clock so my inhibitions are pretty much under wraps at the moment, hahaha. So I worked up the balls to ask you. No offense, like I said. I just took a chance." I go, "Oh, I see, and no offense taken, although I probably should be offended." He's working at the beer pretty good, and puffing away on the cigarette. Oddly, I'm being cool about this. Probably because Scott is harmless, and I kinda feel sorry for his obvious discomfort. I keep quiet though, mostly because not saying anything usually doesn't get me in any trouble.
Scott's biting on his bottom lip, as I stare at him. He's probably feeling a lack of confidence about how this is going. Then, without looking at me he mumbles, "Hey, it's nothing earth-shattering, but I thought maybe you'd go for me sucking your dick. I've certainly never done that before, but a girl in high school sucked me off twice and it was kinda hot, so I figured I'd try that the other way around and see what that's like, ya know?" I have to grin because he's got the cigarette between his teeth and is groping himself, which he's probably unaware he's even doing. I'm betting the 'girl' who sucked Scott's cock had a cock of her own between her legs. Scott's babbling again, similarly to his initial rambling, an almost endless sentence that started this discussion. He says, "Ha ha, yeah, I asked Ears if he wanted his dick sucked and he said, 'Yeah, you bet' did ya meet Ms. Right and I told him I meant sucked by me, which just got him laughing and when I asked again he just gave me a dirty look and said 'No' firmly, so I dropped it. It's no big deal like I already told ya." Scott's actually a real good guy, but I can't help enjoying myself watching him squirm. He's apparently not the blushing type, because if he were, he'd surely be red in the face by now. I utter a neutral, "Un huh," and he looks up at me now, asking, "Do ya mean you'd like to?" I go, "Uh uh," and he scrunches his face up like he almost had me, it was that close; thumb and forefinger an inch apart...haha. I go, "Not interested, Scott, but, um, thanks for thinking of me." He goes, "Hell, you want to stick your pecker up my ass, I'll try that too." I have to laugh out loud at that, patting Scott on the shoulder, going, "No thanks, that's where doodies come from." He says, like he's giving me inside information, "Yeah, but gay guys do it all the time, I've watched them on some over-eighteen web sites." I go, "Ya don't say," then I ask him how he's doing with his grades this semester, and he says, "Ears and I are competing to get the best grades we can; that's how we roll, dude. I might not get to the 3.7 mark that I'm shooting for, but 3.5 is already in the bag. How 'bout you?" and we talk about that for awhile, smoking another cigarette with me taking swallows of the bitter Beck beer every now and then to wet my dry throat from the cigarettes. It's a vicious circle; cigarettes make drinking beer seem easier, and drinking beer makes smoking seem a necessity.
We take our cleaned clothes out of the washing machines and dump them in dryers. To have access to the laundry room we roommates pay twenty-five extra dollars a month; a fee Scott has avoided by somehow getting in here without a key. The dyers are doing they're thing and Scott's back on the bisexual topic explaining to me that there are many guys who have delved into the gay world on the side. They're not really gay, but just want to experience what life has to offer. I ask, "You get laid very often, Scott, I mean before coming to Merrimack?" He's already told me he's had no luck with the girls here. Scott wrinkles his forehead as if he counting up the times he's had sex with a girl in high school, then give a noncommittal, "Not too many, no. Certainly not as many times as I'd like to." I ask, "How many, would you guess it's been?" Another wrinkle in his forehead, then his boyish, cute smile, "Um, that would be none, with one almost successful time." I go, "Oh, so ya came close once, huh?" He nods his head, with a firm, "Damn close, dude!" I go, "Good for you." He says, "Hey, if you'd rather, you can suck my dick, how 'bout that?" I chuckle, saying, "Isn't your dick used for peeing, I mean maybe the last drop of your last piss is dried on your dick, or something." He laughs, finishing off his beer, muttering, "You're jobbing me, right?" I go, "Yep, but our conversation will go no further than you and me, and a few of my closet friends." He goes, "I don't care who ya tell, maybe somebody will hear about it and want to experiment. I know I ain't gay." I've milked all the fun out of this situation that I can, so we talk about our spring break adventures, both of us lying our asses off. When we're both folding the clothes from the dryer, to tweak him just a little bit more, I say, "Okay, just to see what it's like, how 'bout we do a sexy kiss together?" Scott's shocked, "Oh, dear mother of pearl," he goes, "That's so disgusting! No thank you!!" Man, I got a good laugh out of that, as Scott's saying, "Oh, you're putting me on again. Damn, you're good, Dylan. Hey, if ya ever change your mind, I'm still up for it. Like I said, I don't know what it is exactly, but you're one sexy dude." I go, "That's so fuckin' flattering, Scott. It's going right in my journal." He's like, "You keep a journal?" and I make a face that I hope conveys, 'Are you out of your mind?!' He chuckles, muttering, "Ya got me again, didn't ya? hahaha." All my clothes are clean, dry, and folded in my laundry basket, so I say, "It's been fun, Scott. Tell Ears I hope he recovers quickly." He mutters, "Oh, he ain't recovering quickly, that boy is gonna suffer for a week. I told him he needs sunblock, 'cuase we were so pale from this New England weather..." He was going to go on, but I cut him off, "Hey, Scott, I really gotta go. See ya around campus, dude." He's like, "Yeah, see ya, Dylan." I leave first pondering, "How does he get such good grades, yet seem so clueless about other things in life?"
In the apartment Chubby's still moaning about his headache. I go, "Yeah, yeah... take some more Tylenol, Chubby. You're such a baby when it comes to the slightest little discomfort." I'm in my bedroom putting stuff away. Chubby comes in, saying, "Don't be mean, give me a hug," So I do, and he feels good in my arms. Like Robby and me, Chubby and me fit together so well. Of course, now that I think about it, so do Willie and me. Hmmm? Then I hear Robby yell, "Anybody home?" Chubby and I go out to greet him, Chubby with a fist bump and Robby and me with a hug and a lip smacking kiss. Chubby's yelling, "Yo, yo! Take that shit into the bedroom, boys. Us straight guys do not want to see it!" To torture Chubby, Robby and I do a nice thirty second French kiss with lots of "Hmmm's, and Mmmm's". Chubby's taking more Tylenol, muttering under his breath. Robby takes his stuff into our bedroom as Chubby says, "Dylan, you need to make me a comfort food dinner tonight, and I'm thinking Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes." I go, "Jesus, Chubby, that takes a long time to cook, and it's after five o'clock." He says, "So what? We'll eat at seven or whenever. Pleaaaase!" I shrug, "Sure, for you, Chubby. But I need to go to the store." Robby calls out from the bedroom, "I'm coming with you, Dylan." I ask, "Don't ya need a shower?" He says, "I'll get one when we get back. Our manager ran us hard inside the field house today; he said we need to get back into baseball shape after the ten day layoff." I'm like, "Okay, let's go." Robby says, "I'll drive, I got my keys right here and the pickup's warm inside; it's getting nippy outside again. Damn weather is not baseball weather." Chubby lays down on the couch and I rub his head when I pass by the couch. Robby's telling me, "I missed you, Dylan!" I say, "Yeah it's been how many hours now since we've been together?" Robby says, "Too many!"
While driving Robby tells me, excitedly, much more about the baseball activities he went through today than I need to know, bragging especially about his batting in the cage. I did my best to seem interested, although mostly I'm waiting for Robby to mention Ryan Wilcocks, but the name never comes up, so I ask, "Did you drive Wilcocks back here this morning. Robby says, "Yes I did. I told you about me and Ryan, so I don't need to sneak around the subject. I'm not going to ask you what you're up to and I wish you wouldn't ask me either, but if you do I'm going to be totally honest with you. So, if you don't want to hear the answer, don't ask the question." I ask, anyway, "Did you two do anything sexy today? I mean, this pickup should be our place, your's and mine, and nobody else's." Robby says, "I'm sorry, but I can't validate what you want to hear about that. And, no, we didn't do anything sexy today. I'm saving myself for you, Dylan. I told you, it's you I love! Ryan's merely recreational sex, no more than that. Nineteen year old boys have needs and sometime when opportunities present themselves, some of us slip-up, including you." God, I love the way he's talking... very confidently, sure of himself and quite matter-of-factly. He's like that after baseball practice, and especially after a game. My dick squirms in my pants and my anus tightens and loosens. That goddamned Willie fucked me into this almost constant arousal state and while it's pleasurable, it's also frustrating at times. Groping my crotch as casually as I can, I mutter, "I appreciate your honesty, Robby, and I, um, really like your level of confidence in our love making, and, you know, that you're setting the perimeters in our relationship. I respect that you've stepped-up and taken the responsibility for that. "Robby pulls his pickup into the Stop and Shop parking lot, saying, "Well, thanks. And, as I've said before, you're showing the best attitude ever lately, and I appreciate it. It makes me feel comfortable about us and our loving relationship; as you've said, one of us needs to take the lead and you sure-as-hell don't want to, so I did." I could kiss him; hee hee, he's saying all the things I've said to him, repeating to me my own ideas of how our relationship should be. Awesome!
First person we see inside the store is my supervisor, Rudy, he hustles by on a mission of some kind; he's usually is in a hurry. Passing by us, he says to me, "Yo, Jeffrey, whassup?" and I bump fist briefly, saying, "Yo, Rudy!" It's very rare anyone answers the "Whassup?" question. Then Rudy does a double take glancing at Robby, probably because Robby worked at the store for about a month. We couldn't get on the same shift so Robby quit, not really needing the money. I grab a basket 'cause we don't need a cart, and head for the meat counter. "Jusus!" I exclaim, "Friggin' ground sirloin if $5.89 a pound, for hamburg!" Robby's like, "Is that good or bad?" I mutter, "Well it ain't good," and sort through the packages for one with the least amount of hamburg. When I choose one, Robby says, "That's not enough, Chubby and me will eat two patties each," so I toss it back and get a bigger one that has a dollar-off sticker on it because this is the last day of it's used-by date. I'll save a dollar off the $8.49 price anyway. "What else," I ask myself, then to Robby, "We need a quart of the low salt beef broth, and some marrow bones to punch up the flavor of the broth." He goes, "Bones?" Robby doesn't do much cooking. Chubby and I have been cooking since we were nine or ten. I go, "Yes, bones. They give off a good flavor." I'm looking for some that also have some beef still attached and find a good package, and now Robby exclaims, "They want $2.89 for bones? Christ, these look like they should be in the garbage." I go, "No they don't, Emeril," and we head for produce where I see one of my favorite boys to gawk at. His name is Matthew, don't know his last name 'cause I've never talked to him. He's one of those teens who feels they need to appear grumpy, for some reason. I love his slim body; he's an inch taller than me. All us Stop & Shop workers wear aprons, not girlie ones; they actually look cool, the type apron we wear. Matthew's thin body and great ass interest me, cute face too, but the thing that's caught my attention lately is his hair. He used to have thick dark brown hair at the back of his head, and the sides too. I've never seen him without the baseball cap all the guys wear in produce so all I can do is imagine how luscious his whole head of hair is. He gets a haircut only rarely, and when he does it's that kind of haircut that you get in saloons where they never use clippers. I gotta admit the rare haircuts he's gotten looked cool, but I'm a clippers barber. Anyway, two weeks ago, just before spring break for us college kids; Matthew's not one of us, by the way, 'cause he works full time, although he's obviously just out of high school. Back then I spotted him when I was shopping, and drifted up towards him pretending to check-out the fruit, and get startled that it's a buzz cut he's rocking now. Strangely, his hair looked almost reddish when real short, not dark brown. I can see that it's the same length further up his head too, from the opening in back of his cap, so it's definitely a buzz cut. But here's the thing: around the ears and back it'd very amateurishly done with some bare spots showing his scalp, like the person cutting it, obviously a friend or member of his family, is cutting hair for the first time. Naturally, I fantasized that it was his boyfriend who cut it for him, even though I have no reason in the world to think he's gay, except he'd be an awesome addition to our team. It gave me a quick thrill to imagine cutting that buzz cut for him, one of my intimate haircuts, ya know? Gawking at him that time, it was kinda like I had Dodger's haircut fetish for a second, but mostly it was the speculation that a boyfriend cut Matthew's hair that what got my dick moving around. Matthew seemed self-conscious of his butchered hair cut too, and I surely can relate to that... haha. I know that self-conscience feeling Matthew's feeling because my boyfriend-barber, Robby, isn't what's ya might called skilled. Anyway, I see today that Matthew's hair is growing back quickly, so maybe before the end of this semester I can befriend the lad and give him a professional buzz cut with a tough of intimacy. Probably not, but there's always the long shot that comes in once in a while. I'm gawking at Matthew while Robby's trying to figure out why we're checking out the vegetables, which is where we're at because Matthew's restocking broccoli and asparagus.
I'm sneaking glances at Matthew who looks so serious, concentrating on arranging everything neatly; so fuckin' cute! Robby says, "Dylan, nobody eats vegetables, the lettuce is over there. Let's do wedges of iceberg with your awesome Russian dressing that you make from scratch." I go, "Oh, yeah, what the fuck am I thinking," and Matthew looks up at the word "Fuck" so I look him right in the eyes, and say, "Dude, whassup?" He frowns and I smile, so he gives me a little smile, mumbling, "Whassup yourself?" I shoot him with my index finger, saying, "Awesome job you're doing here," he asks, "You work here, dont'cha?" I go, "Yeah, but I'm just a bag boy, wish I could get a job like yours." He's very serious, when he says, "Oh, don't worry, I started as a bagger too, then I worked the register, then stocking shelves, and finally I applied for an opening in produce and here I am. You need to be a full time employee though." I act as serious as he is, saying, "Thanks for the advise, Matthew... see you around." He asks, "What's your hame,?" so I hold out my hand, saying, "Dylan Newman, nice to meet ya," and he goes, "Yeah, me too. I'm Matthew Flowers." And that was it, but what a good start. Walking to the lettuce area, I look at Robby, who's shaking his head slow, with a puss on his face. I ask, "What?..." He chuckles, then says, "You're unbelievable! I'm going to put a cow bell around your neck so all the cute boys can hear you coming and prepare themselves." "Whaddya mean by that?" He goes, "Nevermind, it's fine. You're just being you, and I love you, so it must be okay." I mutter, "Damn straight, it's okay. I didn't do anything wrong." Robby mumbles, "Guess you're right, that is, if flirting in front of me with another boy isn't doing anything wrong." I say, changing the subject, "We need a heavy iceberg head, the light ones don't have much to them," so Robby weighs a few in his hand, then says, "How 'bout this one?" I go, "Perfect," and put it in the basket. Then we head over to the potatoes, "There are so many kinds, Dylan. Which one do we want?" I go, "Yucon gold," and we put half a dozen of the larger ones in a plastic bag. "What else he asks," and I say, "Let me think," as I steal another glance at Matthew; and think, "Damn, that went really well. Hard to break the ice sometimes, but now it's broken". I say, "Light cream for the mashed potatoes, but first some mushrooms and a couple of onions." We get those items, plus a long French bread roll that'll be good to sop-up the sauce with, and we head for the cash registers. In a hurry, we get in the express line for shoppers with twelve or fewer items. We're behind a lady with closer to twenty items, so I roll my eyes at Robby. He goes, "What?" He doesn't do a lot of food shopping. And just as I expected, when the cashier's rung all nineteen item, she waits a few seconds, then says to the customer, "Ah, the total is $24.56." The lady looks at her, asking, "Did I give you my coupons yet?" "No," says the girl behind the counter, who's name tag reads, "Jalita". What the fuck...?" The customer goes, "Oh, I thought I gave you my coupons," and begins going through her purse. A minute later she's got three coupons that the register girl scans and only two of the coupons are valid. Her and the customer examine the bogus coupon, then it's, "Oh, this expired last week," from Jalita. The customer argues that it's used-by date should be more prominent, Jalita shrugs and puts her tongue against the inside of her cheek, waiting. Another silent period, Robby whispers, "The sign says, 'Express'," and I say, "Yeah, it says 'Express', but it doesn't really mean express." Jalita and the customer look over at me with disgust in the eyes of the customer, and mirth in Jalita's eyes, so I smile brightly staring back at her. The lady turns back to look at Jalita, who nods at the big digital image showing the amount owed, and says, "The total now is $22.06." The customer utters, "Oh, yeah," and goes digging in her big pure again. I give Robby another eye roll, then look at the line next to us, the line with orders of more than twelve items; the person who was behind two others is now being checked out. I'm muttering, "Oh man!" as we wait for the lady to go through her wallet looking for the credit card she wants to use. When she finally finds it and slides it through the machine, Jalita says, "It comes up 'declined'." The lady behind us in line makes a "Humpth" sound, and then goes to the next line and is rung through before the moron in front of us finds another credit card and completes her order. That is, after she signs the credit slip, which she does meticulously and slowly. I've got a look, like, "Really?" on my face as Jalita says her canned speech to me, "How are you today, find everything you need?" I say nothing and we're through the line in less than a minutes. I paid with cash, which I had in my hand before the total even came up.
Outside Robby says, "What a pain in the ass shopping for food is!" It is sometimes, but I like to ogle the boys, some of whom aren't on my shift; not all of them, just certain ones. We have the overweight and/or unattractive boys working here too, but some of the others are of interest, like Matthew. Inside the pickup, I'm looking at Robby and feeling real horny. I go, "Um, Robby, you're so sexy to me, more and more every day it seems. Do ya think you could, I mean, how about you give me one of your quickies, ya know to hold me over until tonight. I can't get enough of your sexy self lately." He yells, "Here??" I'm like, "No, not right here, but see over there where no one's parked, it's in the shadows of the store. No one ever parks there, it's too far from the front door." He purses his lips, thinking: then says, "I like the way you've been acting towards me lately, You've been, um, I guess submissive is the word for it. I like that you're asking me to fuck you too instead of telling me when and where we're going to do it. But, there's probably hidden outside cameras that we can't see, so I know a place that better; it's behind the Japanese restaurant down the street," and he starts the car to drive us there. I'm thinking. 'That's the ticket, Robby, take charge', but I don't say that. I also don't know why he doesn't think the Japanese restaurant wouldn't be just as likely to have a hidden camera, but I don't mention that either. My ass is itching to be fucked and Robby is looking more sexy to me of late... and I'm not sure why. He parks behind the restaurant, turns off the truck, then looks over at me, saying, "We do it my way, okay?" I nod my head a couple times more than I needed to, looking back at Robby as he's pulling down his fly, muttering, "Okay, take my dick out and suck it into a hard boner." I go, "Yessir, boss," and he adds, "I've got an idea; actually, I've thought about trying to fuck you this way for a while, but until now I didn't think you'd go for it. It's kooky, but you're going to do it!" Oh my God, my cock starts firming up even before I get Robby's cock in my mouth. Love this version of Robby! Leaning over on my side I put my finger in his fly and pull his limp penis out and suck the soft thing into my mouth, immediately remembering he hasn't showered after baseball practice. His balls are sweaty as I get a finger under then to pull them out of his fly too, but my finger slip in the sweat. Robby says, "Yo, easy with my nuts!" My mouth is occupied so I don't answer, and using three fingers I'm able to extract his big sweaty balls and, lightly fondling the sweaty things I continue sucking his sweaty cock. Robby's running his fingers over my wicked short haircut, saying, "You've becoming the best boyfriend ever. Are you trying to make-up for whatever you did in Key West?" Taking his cock between my fingers I pull my mouth off, to say, "It's not that, well it's a little that, but I think it's this partially open relationship you outlined for us. Simply put, because of the open relationship I want to make sure you remember it's me you love," then get my mouth back on his cock. Robby goes, "Well, keep on behaving like the way you've been since coming back, and maybe I won't even want anyone on the side. You know damn well it's you I'm madly in love with, and I actually am starting to believe you're finally returning some of that love." Jeez, sometimes Robby sounds so innocent, but I love that about him. Willie, on the other hand, is full of deviousness. Damn, I guess I'm really falling for Robby even more then before. Is Willie somehow unintentionally responsible for this? I gotta wonder because nothing else has changed between Robby and me except that little attitude adjustment Willie made in me during those hot days in Key West, hot in more ways than one. And, oh yeah, Robby's practicing his fucking technique in Ryan's ass too and I'll bet Ryan is a submissive so Robby probably laying some dominant sex on that little weasels's ass.
Dropping all thoughts from my head except sucking Robby's awesome sweaty cock, I suck it into a real hard boner in about three minutes. Robby's rubbing my shoulders and neck making, "Mmm Hmm," sounds in his throat. I've got saliva running down my chin as I lift my head, asking, "Is this good, Robby?" Truth is the lips of my anus are quivering, wanting his cock, so I want to speed things up 'cause I can almost feel Robby's boner up my ass. Normally, I'd be happy sucking Robby's cock until he cums in my mouth, but my ass has other ideas. Robby says, "It's an awesome boner, feeling real good," as he's rubbing my shoulder under my shirt, adding,"But this hickey from whats-his-name still hasn't gone down yet. You're going to get one from me, one for the ages, tonight. It'll make that thing on your neck look like a mole hill compared to my mountain of a hickey, and it's gonna sting like fire... hee hee. You know you deserve it too. And you'll get some more smacks on your ass to go along with the hickey." I don't say anything, but why the hell do I get smacks for messin' with Willie, and Robby gets off scott free with Ryan? Instead of asking that question, I ask, "How ya gonna do me now, Robby?" As I'm unbuttoning my jeans, he goes, "Get your pants down to your knees, then we're going to adjust this seat all the way back. It ain't gonna be the most comfortable position for you, but you want it so bad I'm betting you're gonna go for it anyway." 'Intriguing', is what I'm thinking. And, he's starting to sound a little like Willie too. My pants are down and I'm sitting with my bare ass cold on the seat. Robby pushes the lever to automatically move the seat back to where a guy seven foot tall might need it for driving. He reaches behind the seat for the sweatshirt he worked-out in today, saying, "That's as far back as the seat goes. Put the sweatshirt on the floor and twist around so you're laying down in that area on the floor, under the dashboard, with your legs on the seat. I'll get between your legs and drag your ass in position to fuck you fast and hard." Robby's really into this and I gotta wonder what brought it on. I give him a look, like, "Ya gotta be kidding," but Robby goes. "Try it, will ya?!" I hesitate, frowning, so Robby explains, "I had this fantasy awhile ago thinking about you. I'll bet we both have new sensations in store for us in this upside/down position, me for my boner and you in your asshole. Now do it!" That last part would have been perfect except he broke-out in a giggle. I go, "You're just getting even with me some more, ain't ya?" He says, "No, it's a cool way to fuck," and the way he said it tell me he's done it with someone like this before. Duh, I wonder who? Well, okay, if it worked with Ryan, I don't mind being second in line for this, but I choose to believe he experimented with Ryan to see if it works, before making me do it. Once my head and back are on the floor, it's not all that uncomfortable, but looking up at the underside of the glove box gives me little claustrophobic feeling. Still, I have a buzzing in my balls because Robby's actually making me do this. It's a dominant thing to do so I shouldn't bitch about it, and I don't. Instead I say, "What do I do now, Robby?" Another giggle from him, then, "Wait till I get over between your legs," which is clumsy and awkward in the doing, to say the least, and I almost get a foot in my face during the process. Robby says, "You're the one who wants to be fucked, so stop the complaining." I shout, "I haven't said a word!" He goes, "Oh, yeah, okay then. Now I'll stand up as much as I can and you scoot yourself over near the front of the seat." I do it and now my neck and the back of my head are supporting me on his damp sweatshirt, and he pulls my thighs up further, getting my ass in position. Then, pushing my legs back against the dashboard, he's mumbling, "Oh yeah, there's your asshole. Um, can you spread your legs a little?" This wasn't what I had in mind. I say, "Well, I could, except my jeans are around my freakin' knees!" Another giggle, then, "Just stay there, you wanna get fucked we're doing it my way from now on. I get no complaints from Ry... from anyone else."
Guess I'm put in my place alright, but Robby's certainly right when he says I wanna get fucked! Again I think, 'That damn Willie did this to me'. Maybe he didn't do me any favors creating this arousal condition in me. I definitely need it though, especially after all the fucking that's gone on the last ten days, not only by Willie, but my homies too, Robby being number one on the list. Damn, I can't wait; forget all the other stuff. "Come on, Robby," I whine, even as I'm mad at myself for being such a wuss. He says, "I gotta get your asshole in just the right position for maximum pleasure. I've discovered, or rather, assume, that I need your ass up a little bit higher... a little above the seat, ya know?" I go, "No, I don't know." He smacks my ass, giggling again. "This is fun, Dylan! Thanks for going along with me." "Robby, my neck is getting stiff." He's cupping the front of my thighs with his hands pulling me up, and then I hear him mumble, "Good, right there," and he pushes the front of my legs back firmly against the dash board again and now holds them there with one hand as he smacks my ass with the other. Willie can get me in some kind of arms and legs hold, maybe it's a wrestling hold, but whatever it is I can't move in it. Same for this position I'm in now. "SMACK! SMACK!! SMACK!!!" "Ow, godddammit, Robby, that really stings!" I can see his face through the couple of inches between my legs, that's all the further I can spread my legs because of my jeans, which Robby's worked up to my ankles. My toes would be touching the windshield if I wasn't wearing sneakers. Robby's spanking caught my attention though, so I better knock off the bitchin', but it's also caught my dick's attention and little Dylan begins to firm-up now. When Robby's finger pushes through the lips of my anus, not only are the lips sucking on his finger, but my balls wake-up now too and get to work producing ingredients for my impending ejaculation, which I can't wait for. Robby's boner bumps the back of my buttocks as he finger-fucks me. He has a look of concentration on his face, his eyes look dark in the shadows, and I realize it's getting dark outside now.
Apparently satisfied my ass is ready, he pulls his finger out of me, and grins, like he's real pleased with himself. Then his eyes find mine, and he says, "Your ass tried holding my finger inside; that's a first!" He's excited. Two more hard smacks on my red ass-cheek, the left one 'cause it's easier for him to hit that one with his right hand. I grit my teeth at the, "SMACK!! SMACK!!!" then he lines up his boner and drives it down into my rectum and I let out this long, "Oooohhh, aaaahhhh!" "Does it feel different, Dylan?" Robby asks in his excited voice, without a touch of maliciousness in the tone of his question. I grunt, "Oh yeah, the fat, hard, head of your cock is pressing right on my magic button in there. Oh jessuuus! Feels good!" He nods his head, like he's confirming what he already knew, then he begins straightening his knees a little, pulling his boner out, then driving his cock down hard and with each thrust his balls bang against the back of my buttocks. He does this continuously for a minute or so and with each drive into my ass his balls feel a little harder against the back of my ass. I'm soon squirming with pleasure trying to push my ass up at his thrusts, but in my position Robby's totally in charge. It's captivating, and even though I'm very uncomfortable in this position all I can think of is the sexual erotic sensations on my prostate. Those sensations expand outward to my ever hardening cock and balls. Now that he's got my ass openly accepting his fat rod, I watch Robby'e eyes squeeze tightly closed, his head goes back and his cheeks puff-out as he starts a relentless fuck of my ass. "Oohh, Robby," is all I can think of to mutter as my cock reaches full hard-on status, pointing at my face. After about two to three more minutes, he pulls totally out of me and, "WHACK! WHACK!! WHACK!!! on my stinging, bright red left ass cheek. Then his cock hammers into me again for another couple minutes of hard fucking with me writhing in pleasure on the floor, the front of my legs sweaty against the dashboard, my toes wiggling in my sneakers, and my orgasm building. It appears he's going all the way to climax time; he keeps fucking me, grunting and breathing deeply from the effort, with no indication he's about to stop anytime soon. There's sweat on his face as I grunt, "I'm cumming, I'm cum..." and a spray of spunk reaches as far as my neck. I squeal out, like I haven't done in awhile, then tighten every muscle in my body to force out a long stream of cum. Turning my head slightly on the floor, the string of fast movie spunk splashes against my cheek followed by three smaller streams that reach only to my chest as my whole body jerks around spastically and a dark cloud with sparkling bright lights clouds my vision, and then Robby screams, "Auuuhhhhggg," and his cum gushes into my rectum. Now he's jerking around like I attempted doing with my climax. Hammering his cock in my ass wildly, his cock comes out of my asshole to shoot two spurts of spunk on my red, stinging left butt cheek. He grips his cock and strokes it twice, then in me it goes for another dozen thrusts inside my slippery ass. Robby's face is red and sweaty. He's gasping for breath and at this moment of exhilaration, if he were hooked up to a lie detecter, I'm betting he couldn't tell ya who he just fucked. It's that solitary moment in time when only the incredible sensations of climax register in the brain.
It doesn't last long, those intense seconds of extreme pleasure, but the after effects are nice too and they can drag on for a few minutes. Back in the real world again, Robby gasps for breath, muttering, "Stay like that, Dylan. I need a minute to catch my breath." He pulls out of my ass letting go of my legs, and sits back on the seat. He never did pull his pants down; just unzipped. My legs flop down on either side of him as my body relaxes and I scoot further under the dashboard so now I'm laying more on my back in a slightly more comfortable position. My cum has drooled down my cheek to my neck. Neither of us says anything as we breath deeply savoring all the those aforementioned sexy sensations in our bodies. A minute later, Robby takes one last big breath, opens his eyes, then smiles at me. "How was that, Dylan? Feel awesome?" I go, "Holy shit! My dick almost came off with my climax." He struggles up, getting my legs back against the dashboard, then he pulls my ass up again so I'm resting on the back of my neck once more, and his boner goes back in me to slush around in his spunk for another ninety seconds of fucking. I'm biting my lip with the awesomeness of it all, letting a quiet, "Mmmmm, Mumm, oooh," sound of pure sexual pleasure escape from my throat, seemingly without me having anything to do with it. Finally he pulls out again and gives my ass a last swat, "SMACK!" and says, "Did that take care of your itch, Dylan? It sure took care of mine." I mumble, "It was great, Robby. Yeah, dude, I've been fucked fer sure, no doubt about that. You just keep getting better and better." He's looking pleased with himself, then he says, "You have the most primo boy's ass! I know I'm always saying that to you, but it's so true." He puts his softening cock back in his pants, and zips-up, saying, "I'll move over behind the steering wheel so you can get up. Ya got cum on your face, ya know." I mutter, "Oh, is that what that is? I'm surprised my dick isn't sticking to my forehead after that freakin' awesome climax I just had." Robby's on his side of the seat and he swings his legs up on the seat so I'm able to swing mine on the floor; then, before I climb up backwards to sit like a human being on the passenger seat, Robby puts a handful of tissues on the seat. "Fuck! I'm beat-up Robby. How'd ya come-up with that fucking position?" He's like, "We've, um, you and me have tried different positions and this just popped into my head a few nights ago. So I tried it out and it works for both parties." I go, "You tried it out?" He goes, "Oh, um. Hey, remember we don't bring anyone else into our conversations about sex." I mumble, "Yeah, yeah, I remember, but I'll bet that little turd Ryan fit under the dashboard a lot easier than I did; he's smaller than me." Robby shouts, "Dylan!!" I drop it. Hell, I'm feeling real good, a little neck stiffness, but it was worth it. Robby says, "Pull up your pant, Dylan, here are some tissues to soak up my cum," and he leans over to help me do that. Then, in a quiet voice, he asks, "You're not mad at me, are you?" I shrug, saying, "It's a little bit humiliating for the guy on the floor, just sayin'." With his hand massaging my neck, he says, "But it was a good fuck wasn't it?" I go, "Oh yeah! I gotta give you props for that, Robby." He kisses me, than rubs my head, murmuring, "I love you so much," then a kiss on my cheek. I turn my head to him and we do a nice kiss on the lips. Then Robby asks, "Did ya shoot any cum under the dashboard, or did it all go on you?" I mutter, "It's all on me. Damn, give me some more tissues, my face is sticky." He grabs some tissues, then leans over to lick my cummy face a little bit, "Mmmmm," he murmurs.
Sliding back behind the steering wheel, he says quietly, "You always say you want me to be dominant with sex, and that was pretty dominant, wasn't it?" It's sweet that Robby needs reassurances that he did good, so I say, "Fer sure, Robby. You were totally dominate, dude. It rocked!" I'm using more tissues wiping my face, then my shirt where two spurts of cum landed. Robby starts the car, grinning, "That's the way I roll, Dylan. You liked it, right?" I laugh because he can't get enough confirmation that he is good at fucking. I want to ask, "What's Ryan say about that?" but instead I say, "You fuck awesomely, Robby... swear to God, dude." He's satisfied finally, saying, "Okay, that was our fun sex for the day. Tonight it's our lovers sex where I get to hug and fondle and love you. That's my favorite kind of sex." I say, "Mine too." Robby backs the pickup onto the access road and we're soon on route 114 heading back to the apartment where I need to make our Salisbury and mashed potato dinner, and take a friggin' shower. Pulling into our parking space, Robby goes, "It'll be our lovers sex tonight, except first I need to teach you a lesson about hickeys. I mean, in the sense that if someone else gives you one, I'm going to give you a bigger one. How's that for dominant?" I go, "Do we have to do that tonight, it's our lovers sex." Robby goes, "Okay, if you don't think those two things go together, I'll skip it. But one of these times you're getting a humongous hickey from me." I smile at him because he's trying to get the dominant thing down, but when push comes to shove he's too nice for it to ever really happen. Now in short spurts he can do it and in the past he couldn't even manage that. I did have one helluva climax though. When we're parked and our seat belts are off, I ruffle his hair, saying, "Love you so much, Robby. You were awesome today." He tries to be cool, but a big grin wins out over coolness, and he goes, "We both were great today. Doing you that way was so much better than doing it with... um, anybody else, but you." I say, "Thanks, Robby," and get out of the pickup, then grab the two plastic shopping bags of groceries. I'm grinning at the contradictions that make-up Robby with a deep loving feeling in my heart at the same time. I can still feel the fat head of his boner pressing constantly on my magic button, sometime referred to as a prostate gland. Man!
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
Please consider a tax deductible contribution to nonprofit Nifty. Details at the site. Thank you.