DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR
Chapter 47
by Donny Mumford
I see from my iPhone's caller ID that Willie's calling me after all this time, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm considering taking a voice message, but then I hit 'talk' and go, "Hi Willie," and just saying his name and knowing he's on the other end of the connection gets my dick squirming. That's weird! He says, "First off, I've missed you so much it's embarrassing. I'm so head over heels in love with you I feel stupidly helpless 'cause you're all I've thought about the past couple of weeks. And, I had two opportunities to get laid and passed them both up because the guys were so infuriatingly inferior to you. No one can stack up against you, Dylan; you've ruined me for anybody else." I go, "Um, thanks Willie, where ya been?" He goes, "That's another thing, you didn't call me to find out where I've been because I told you not to, so good for you! You did what Willie said; you know how to follow orders. That's just one more reason you're the best boyfriend ever. Did you think about calling me, Dylan?" I mutter, "Yeah, I did a number of times, and wondered where you were a number of other times, too. Where were ya?" "Did you miss me?" I stutter, "Um, ah, ah... that is, I needed you this week especially, yeah I missed you. What, you think I wouldn't miss you?" He goes, "No, heh heh, I have to admit I never thought you weren't missing me. It's just nice to hear it from you. I was in Montana for two weeks with the grandparents. Didn't want to stay that long, but granddad bought me a new Porsche Boxster convertible. It's blue and beautiful, so I stayed an extra week to show them how grateful I was, and then drove across country with it. Both granddad and mommom are still pissed at my parents for not coming to my graduation, really pissed! Hee hee, I may have added fuel to the fire by telling them about that terrible FED EX letter father sent me. That's when they bought me the car, as a belated graduation present." I go, "Huh," but I don't even know what a Porsche Boxster is, although the name 'Porsche' being associated with the car means it's expensive, I know that much. I work up some excitement in my voice, and go, "That's awesome, Willie! Congratulations." He mutters, "I thought you'd like that." Willie doesn't ask me what I've been up to because he doesn't care. He only cares about what I do with him and I already told him about Robby in Key West, so the rest is immaterial to him; he's a little narcissistic. "Okay, Dylan, I'm going to show you the car Wednesday. When's your last class?" I say, "We're into final exams next week. I'm done at one o'clock Wednesday, or earlier if I get through the exam quickly." Willie says, "Good. Meet me at the Candlelite Motor Inn right after your exam. I've got a room with a kingsize bed and it's got a heart shaped jacuzzi too. Haha, we'll have some fun in that thing. Remember Key West when you sucked my cock underwater in their jacuzzi? So cool! Anyway, the Candlelite Motor Inn is right on route 114 about five miles from Merrimack. I'll be in the Dunkin' Donuts, right next door to the motel. I checked the place out on my computer and it looks okay, not great but it'll have to do because it's geographically desirable." "Huh," I go, because it's a run-down dive. Robby and me have been to that Dunkin' Donuts and the motel next to it is a dump! I go, "Ya sure you wanna stay there?" He goes, "We're staying there, not just me. I've got another call that I should take, just meet me there!" I go, "I don't have any way of getting there." Willie says, "I'll call you back." For a minute I'm wondering if I should spend the night with him. Then it's like, what?s the problem? Of course I'm staying with Willie that night. Robby asked me where Willie was a couple of days ago, he wants me going out with Willie so he won't have as big a guilty conscience about Ryan.
Yeah, Robby wants me to hook-up with Willie about as much as I want him hooking-up with Ryan, but it is what it is at the moment. Things change abruptly sometimes, and then they change again. Hell, very few of us teens know what we're gonna do next. Still, I don't want to go overboard again with the submissive stuff; Willie takes me too far sometimes with his dominant ways. I'm a little nervous about that, while at the same time my dick is twitching and I have a funny, excited feeling in the pit of my stomach. And anyway, I need to show Robby that I've got options too. And I'm committed, for the next couple of months anyway, to being more open to buddy sex; you know, not be as choosey as I've been in the past. Oh man, I need a cigarette before Willie calls me back. I've got to plan my approach to show Willie, right from the start, that this ain't Key West. Out to the stoop I go, and then light up a Marlboro Light. I'm thinking that my best approach with Willie will be to put my foot down about something he suggests early on. Refuse to do what he wants me to do, just to set the tone of how things are going to be now that we're back in the real world. But I don't have time for any other thoughts because he's calling back already, and I'm not even half way through my cigarette. "Oh, hi Willie. That was fast." He goes, "Hi again, Dylan. I meant to ask you if you've been okay without me?" All I can think about when he asks me that is the Robby and Ryan situation all last week, so I mutter, "I've been better, Willie." He goes, "I know, I know. I'm sorry for staying away so long, but the grandparents trip developed in a hurry, and on top of that I got that damn food poisoning which ruined our last day at Key West, but I'll make it up to you. It'll be okay. Now, give me a landmark near your college and I'll find it and pick you up there. I don't have a GPS device in the Boxer yet, so be specific about where you'll be." I go, "Okay, from the Candlelite Motor Inn, take a right on route 114 and a few miles up the road, before you get to Merrimack College, there's a strip mall with a Fuddruckers on the far end. I'll be standing outside the restaurant by one-fifteen on Wednesday." Willie goes, "Fuddruckers? Great, we'll eat lunch there and then I'll take you for your haircut. I looked up a place in Lawrence where they advertise short clipper cuts." As my hand goes to my hair, I'm thinking, 'Ah ha, this can be where I put my foot down'. I say, "No, I've decided to let my hair grow out some, not long, but like a buzz cut length maybe." Unfortunately, Willie's got me so used to not contradicting him that my protest came out of my mouth like a nervous whine. He says, "Forget that! You're getting your hair cut the way Willie likes it, so get used to it. I'll see you on Wednesday at one-fifteen and, Dylan, I can't wait to see your cute face and fill your pussy with my big dick. I'd like to talk longer but mother's taking me shopping for summer clothes. I hate going shopping with her, but she insists, and anyway we're trying to have a better child/parent thing, so I agreed to go. See ya soon. Bye for now, baby." I go, "Oh, okay. Bye Willie." Hmmm, well that was a first feeble attempt at putting my foot down, but I like that one-eighth inch haircut so I'll put my foot down on something I don't like, and it'll come out of my mouth better. I'm feeling kind of good actually; another adventure with Willie. They're never dull and I need a pick-me-up right about now.
Dodger and Vinnie are late so I text Dodger and he texts back that they're on their way. My mom's ready to go off to work so we kiss goodbye and she tells me to have fun and that she's looking forward to Sunday brunch. We'll have it at our condo this week and Chubby and I can plan something special while we're at dinner tonight. That'll be fun too, so things are looking a little better for me. I'm putting my concerns about Robby, Ryan, and me on hold until tonight when I see him in the pickup. Should I mention my concerns to him then? No, it'll seem like whining, or that I'm throwing the sex he had with Ryan last night back in his face. I'll see how things go for a few more days, and I'm not mentioning my Wednesday night with Willie until Robby's going out with Ryan, which will probably be Monday afternoon if his pattern holds true. In addition to Wednesday with Willie, I've got Shaun coming over for a haircut and some sexy messin' around on Tuesday, and before that Matthew may be coming over on Monday. He'll text me after my Monday final exam. No sexy stuff promised by Matthew, but he did say he's been giving it some thought, so.... ya know, we'll see. Then the doorbell rings and someone knocks loudly on the door at the same time; kinda like a guy with suspenders and a belt holding his pants up... redundant! It's gotta be Dodger of course, and it is. In comes the hurricane named Dodger, followed very closely by a shy-grinning Vinnie. Dodger has his arms spread like, 'Ta da! I'm here', and he's talking fast. "Dylan, this is your lucky day again!" as he's getting his arm around Vinnie's neck now, and rubbing Vinnie's hair, while talking without taking a breath. "My lucky day too 'cause I get to watch my boyfriend get his hair cut ultra short, and I might even have an accident in my pants during that. Seriously, I'm excited about this. Here's the thing, as your reward, Vinnie's going to fuck you during the haircut the same ultra cool way I did when you gave me my last haircut right after your Key West trip with that rich gay kid, and that was over two weeks ago so you get to cut my hair again today too. Isn't this just the greatest!?" I go, "I'm sorry, Dodger, but I wasn't listening. What was that stuff you rattled off?" He laughs, "Let's get started, and don't worry; I promised you there'd be no three-way, and there won't be one. I'll just get myself off watching you cut Vinnie's hair, or during my haircut, maybe both times. My haircut fetish is a little sick, I know that, but I think it?s kinda cool too. This might be the best haircut fantasy I could even make up in my mind, except for the time I cut all Vinnie's long hair into a buzz cut a couple years ago. Remember that?" I do, but claim I don't so he doesn't get the idea these are moments for my scrapbook, if I had one, which I don't. With my hand on the back of Vinnie's head I pry him from Dodger, and say, "Come on down to the finished basement, Vinnie." Dodger flies down the steps ahead of us, as light on his feet as a cat, and sees the barber tools I brought with me from the apartment. He handles the clippers, saying, "These things, not just yours either, other barber's clippers, too. They've given me some really good spontaneous orgasms, and all the other barbers before you were completely oblivious to it. What a fetish! Of course, since you started cutting my hair it's been even better. Hey, I thought you'd give me a hard time about Vinnie replicating the way I did you during my last haircut." I go, "Well, for one thing it's hard to get in a word because you talk so much, and for another I obviously thought you were kidding." He goes, "Oh no, I wasn't kidding, was I Vinnie?" Vinnie goes, "No, Dodger, you've gone over that fuck with me a number of times, so I know how you did it almost perfectly. I may forget something though." "Don't worry, Vinnie, I'll remind you," says Dodger, with a huge smile on his face. Then he asks me, "Isn't this the best fun?" He's patting the seat of the stool indicating that Vinnie should get up on it. Vinnie's eyes are big as he looks at the stool, then Dodger, then me.
Finally, Vinnie says to me, "I'm a little nervous about the haircut, Dylan, 'cause it's so short." I say, "I'll cut it any way you want, Vinnie. Screw Dodger." Vinnie blushes, and quietly asks me, "Remember when you and me had our boners up Dodgers ass at the same time?" I go, "The double fuck? Yeah, I do remember since it was only last weekend, and it was hot sharing his rectum with you." Vinnie's very likable and maybe part of the reason I like him is the way he acts around Dodger, it reminds me a little of how I act around Willie at times. I definitely need to get Willie and Dodger together though, for yucks. That ride from the airport doesn't count because Willie was sick then. Laughing out loud just imagining those two over-confident boys clashing causes Dodger to ask, "What's so funny, Dylan?" I tell them the joke about the three women wearing only black bras and black eye masks. At the punch line Dodger and Vinnie exchange blank looks, then Dodger asks, "Who's Zorro, and why's that funny?" I go, "Never mind, it's an adult joke. Take your shirt off Vinnie and sit the fuck down. I've only got an hour, and then I need to get ready to go out tonight." Dodger pulls up another stool so he has a close-up view of the impending haircut, and asks, "Where ya going tonight, Dylan?" Vinnie's pulling his sweatshirt over his head and then he sits the fuck down, like I told him to do, a very obedient lad. Answering Dodger's nosy question, I go, "Chubby and me are going out to have dinner at a restaurant tonight." Dodger says, "Can I come along?" I go, "No, you can't. Chubby and I don't get a chance to catch-up on each other's lives very often, so that's what we're doing tonight. Also, we're celebrating something." I'm plugging in the clippers and trimmers as Dodger wants to know, "What are you celebrating." I go, "It's personal," and Dodger asks, "Is it of a sexual nature?" and I go, "No, it's not," and then I ask Vinnie, "What's it going to be?" Dodger mutters, "Cut his hair just like mine," and Vinnie goes, "Oh, Dodger I'm afraid my mom will freak out. I think I'll just get a regular buzz cut, Dylan." I say to Dodger, "It's his hair, and he's my customer at the moment, so I cut it the way he wants it. Then I'll cut your's the way you want it. That's the way it works." Dodger stretches out Vinnie's name, "Vinnieeee!" and Vinnie goes, "Okay, I changed my mind, Dylan. I want the same haircut Dodger has. Is that okay, Dylan?" I'm getting exasperated, "Tell me how you want your hair cut, Vinnie!" He's looking at Dodger, mumbling, "Like Dodger's," and I put an one-eighth inch comb on the clippers and run the clippers down the middle of Vinnie's head shearing off about an inch and a half of his dark hair. Dodger grabs his dick, muttering, "Oh yeah." I say to Vinnie, you smell good Vinnie," and then run the clippers on top of his head next to the first cut... many more hairs tumble from the clippers to my hand and then to the floor. Vinnie says, "I took a shower and washed my hair just before I came over for my haircut, Dylan." I mutter, "Very considerate of you," and hold the clippers away to feel his extremely short hair after the two runs of the clippers; it does look sexy on him. Vinnie reaches up and feels his shorn hair too, going, "Oooh my God." He's cute in the way Italian boys sometimes are, cute and handsome. To bolster his confidence about the shortness of his hair, I put the clippers down and get a hand on each of his skinny shoulders massaging him a little, saying, "It's just like Dodger's and my haircut. Well, ours has grown out some, but I'm getting mine cut again on Wednesday and Dodger's getting his cut again right after you, so we'll be the three musketeers." Vinnie has a real nice body, smallish but nice, although he does not have a smallish dick.
Dodger's staring at Vinnie's extremely short hair with shiny eyes, casually playing with himself. I smirk at him, then pick up the clippers and finish the top of Vinnie's head. Dodger, staring at Vinnie's very short hair, gulps, then says, "You're suppose to say something now, Vinnie." Vinnie goes, "Huh? What? Oh, oh yeah! Dylan, would you please, please, please suck my dick for just a minute?" Due to my current situation with Robby I've decided to go along with any reasonable buddy sex that comes my way, and Vinnie fucked me good during our three-way, so he fits the parameters. But, to tease him a little first, I ask, "Why should I suck your dick, Vinnie?" He furrows his eyebrows, thinking. After a few seconds, with me rolling my eyes at Dodger, Dodger says to me, "He'll remember, give him a second". Then Vinnie goes, "Oh yeah, it's because I'm so turned-on by this short haircut." I laugh, going, "Vinnie, you don't have a haircut fetish, so why ya turned-on?" He shrugs his little well-defined shoulders, muttering, "I don't know, but Dodger said you'd go along with it. Will you, Dylan?" Vinnie has two levels of intelligence; the one for school which produces a 'B' average, and the one he utilizes around Dodger, which is probably closer to a 'D' average, but he's a sweet kid and I think he and Dodger make a hot boyfriend combo. But, that's just me. I say, "Oh, okay. That makes sense," and Vinnie mutters, "Hey, thanks, Dylan!" Putting the clippers down again, I say to Dodger, "If you think we're going through this charade every time you or Vinnie gets a haircut you're mistaken. And if you insist on it, you'll need to find another barber." He says, "Dylan, I'm looking out for you like I always do. I happen to know Robby's got that damn boyfriend on the side so I figured you might need a little relief from the over-active sex drives you and me both have in common." He's serious, which is the scary part... also, he's right.
Vinnie's squirming on the stool getting his jeans unbuttoned, then pulling out his thick, five-inch cock. He strokes it a couple of times and, while digging his balls out, he asks Dodger, "Do I sit on the stool?" Dodger nods his head, saying, "Yeah, Dylan gets on his knees in front of you, it's just the right height for him." When I'm between Vinnie's legs, in front of him on my knees, I rub his legs through his jeans; the lad's got awesome legs. Looking up, I see him grinning with his eyes shining now too, like Dodger's, so I grin back and take his cock in my fingers to stroke it a half dozen times. He mutters, "Mmm, that's nice," then the head goes in my mouth and I do my usual sucking and licking, while inhaling Vinnie's clean scent. That describes it perfectly, clean. Not a particularly sexy scent, just fresh and clean. A few inches from me, his curly pubes are peeking out from his opened zipper; pubes that'll be shaved this summer just like Dodger's will be. When I've got Vinnie squirming on the stool and as he?s squeezing my shoulders, I suck his whole cock into my mouth and lap at it until it's firm, then take it in my throat to work on it there and after twenty seconds Vinnie stands up, going, "Oh, oh, oh," backing away, pulling his cock from my throat and mouth, knocking over the stool behind him in the process. Vinnie's stroking his boner while explaining to a chuckling Dodger, "I didn't want to spunk too soon." Then, remembering what he's supposed to say, he mumbles, "Please let me stick it in you, Dylan, for just a minute. I promise I won't cum inside you." I roll my eyes to indicate this is all very silly, but stand up not complaining, as he's pulling my sweatpants down and turning me around at the same time. Vinnie likes me, but he doesn't have any of the deferential behavior with me that he shows Dodger, none at all actually. Strangely, with my pants down, I'm not feeling that this is silly anymore; the fact is, I want his cock up my ass. It's a left over need from Willie fucking me so often in Key West, and also all the fucking my first week back here when everything fell perfectly in place for me. I had sex a couple times a day that first week back. Combine that with an almost barren week of sex last week and the need is very much there. Never mind that fast fuck Robby laid on me some hours ago, I'm looking forward to Vinnie's fuck now, and Robby's fuck in the pickup later tonight. God only knows how hungry I'll be for it after Willie's done fucking me Wednesday afternoon and night, plus probably Thursday morning too. Wow! I'll be walking bowlegged.
Vinnie's pushing at the back of my head, which gets me bending over and looking back at him. He has a hungry look of his own by now, the grinning is replaced by a look of anxiousness. Maybe Dodger's fucked Vinnie into needing sex too, like Willie's done to me. There are worse things, fer sure. Especially for those of us lucky enough to be born with an extra strong sex drive. Vinnie asks, "Can you bend your knees to lower your asshole to the level of my dick? I'm not as tall as you and Dodger." I mutter, "Yeah, of course." When I'm where he needs me to be there's no sexy teasing from Vinnie, he simply pushes the head of his boner past my sphincter, then grabs my hips and pulls me back onto his boner, inch by inch. It takes only about ten seconds before I feel a hard hump of his hips, accompanied by a grunt, and Vinnie's pubes are tight against my ass and his balls bounce against the back of my thigh. He reaches between my legs, past his scrotum, to grab my nuts with his smallish hand and pulls my scrotum sack of nuts towards him painfully. I go, "Ow, goddammit, Vinnie, that hurts." Paying no attention to my complaint, Vinnie holds onto my nuts, keeping me stationary. After re-gripping my scrotum with a firmer grip, getting a groan from me, he begins fucking my ass roughly. The times he's fucked me during our three-ways were both rough. I assume that's the way Dodger taught him to fuck. It's also a function of recreational fucking, in my experience anyway. Lover's fucks are much different, although recreational fucks between lovers can be rough too. I've come to like it rough of course, so it's all good.
After only a few drives up my ass of Vinnie's sizable cock, I'm already biting my lip trying not to moan with pleasure. My hands are on my knees, and I stay in position to be fucked submissively. My sore nuts are squeezed harder as Vinnie gets into the fuck, grunting and breathing loudly, but the great sensations in my rectum have captured most of the attention in my brain and the pain's been mostly negated. Vinnie's really going at it and the slapping sound of his groin against my ass, along with the quiet grunts of pleasure from Vinnie and me, are unmistakable as butt fucking; a blind person would know what's happening almost instantly. It's a very satisfying sound when it's being made between consensual participants; to me it is anyway. After a bit, Dodger mutters, "Hot, Vinnie! Very hot, you're doing it just right". Then I let a louder moan slip out as I glance at Dodger who's massaging his junk through his sweatpants, grinning from ear to ear. Dodger enjoys sex like I do, but I don't get to watch it very often, which makes me remember how hot it was watching Robby fuck Ryan, so I know where Dodger's coming from. When Vinnie hears my louder moan of pleasure, he smacks my ass a stinging blow and picks up the speed, grunting out a question, "Ya like my cock in your ass, dont'cha, Dylan?" I don't reply, but two minutes later my boner's hard against my stomach as Vinnie shouts out, "I'm gonna cum, Dodger." Dodger says, "Slow the fuck down then, Vinnie. Ya wanna give Dylan the kind of fuck he deserves, dont'cha? Not some half-ass quickie. You gotta hold off until you get Dylan's orgasm fucked out of him." Vinnie slows down, but it's still feeling awesome. His hand is sweaty on my balls and I realize even his grip on my nuts feels good now. My balls are buzzing, busy generating sperm, and there's a wet spot of precum around my belly button as my dick leaks and vibrates nicely. Very enjoyable sensations in my rectum, balls, and cock and these sensations are spreading out now too. After a minute of slow fucking, Vinnie mutters, "I'm good," and he begins that fast, hard slamming of his cock up my ass again. I go, "Oh, yeah, do it, Vinnie..." He squeezes my nuts a little harder and slaps my ass again, then really gets a rhythm going and it's constant pleasure for three or four more minutes. I close my eyes and bite my lip as the feeling grows and then it?s here and I tighten my muscles to help it happen. With only a loud grunt from me, cum streaks from my cock splashing against my belly and Dodger's somehow immediately underneath me, the top of his head resting in the cum I just shot on my belly and quick as a flash my cock's in his mouth and he sucks out my next three strings of cum, swallowing them. Dodger's sucking, coupled with Vinnie's fucking, creates such sensations of pleasure I can't help but let out another patented squeal... it feels so fantastic. Vinnie goes, "Gawd! Umph! Ooh oh," and my rectum is warmer and much squishier now as Vinnie babbles while driving his boner up my ass in his own young creamy spunk. Dodger's drained my nuts and now the after-effects of my climax are all too quickly draining away, leaving me with that familiar weak feeling, but it's a calm wonderful feeling of satisfaction, too. I take a big breath as Dodger's standing, laughing, and feeling the cum in his hair. "That was not a three-way," he yells, still laughing. Then, "Awesome!" It was too. Vinnie's breathless as he mumbles, "Yeah, it was awesome alright. Best ass in town, Dylan," and he pulls out stumbling over the stool he knocked over earlier.
I straighten-up, pulling on my softening cock, as I'm contradicting Dodger, "Oh, yes it was, Dodger, that was a three-way. Another lie from you." He goes, "Uh uh, it was a two-and-a-half-way!" I can't help but laugh. He's dead serious, not being a wise guy; he believes it. Vinnie's catching his breath, muttering, "That was great, Dylan. Did you like it?" I go, "I sure did, Vinnie," and he comes up behind me to wrap me around the waist with both arms and then he slides his half-boner up my ass to do a hips-only fuck, mumbling again, "Nice ass, Dylan." His bare chest against my back feels sexy, but I only tolerate this for a minute or so, and then pry his hands and arms away from me to walk a couple steps away, his dick flopping out of my ass with the first step. "I've had enough, Vinnie. It was really good though." I wasn't feeling the encore with Vinnie, but I let it go on for that minute so his feelings don't get hurt. He doesn't look hurt; he's beaming at Dodger, waiting for approval. Dodger gets a hand on either side of Vinnie's face, then kisses him on the lips, saying, "You're awesome Vinnie, I couldn't do it better myself.? Vinnie puts his sloppy cock away and zips up, saying, "Yeah, you could, Dodger, but thanks." In the half-bath I clean the cum off my ass and legs and then pull my pants up. Some cum will be drooling out, but cum in my pants doesn't bother me anymore. When I walk out of the half-bath, Vinnie's back sitting on the stool, feeling the very short hair on top of his head while Dodger's explaining to him, "No, don't be defensive. Tell your mom this haircut's the latest style. She's seen it on me and never said anything about it." Vinnie goes, "She said stuff to me." "What?" Dodger asks, and Vinnie goes, "She said it was too short, that's what." Dodger dismisses that with a wave of his hand, muttering, "I told ya what to say, just say it, you'll see." I've had enough of the Dodger/Vinnie drama so I pick up the clippers and do the sides and back of Vinnie's head. Then outline around his entire hairline carefully with the trimmers. "Do you want a little part shaved in, Vinnie?" He asks Dodger, "Do I, Dodger?" Dodger says, "No," and that's what Vinnie tells me as I roll my eyes; then, because he looks so innocent I squeeze his sexy shoulders, saying, "That's it, Vinnie, you're done and no matter what your mom says you look cool, dude!" He mumbles, "I'm gonna check myself out," and he goes into the half-bath to gawk at himself in the mirror. Dodger sits on the stool and takes his shirt off. Then he says, "Do the haircut slow, Dylan, okay? I'm almost to orgasm right now, and lets not talk either because I want to savor my fetish." I ask, "Does your fetish ever make you feel like you're ten years old, anything like that?" He turns his head, asking, "What the fuck you been smoking, Dylan? Why would I feel like I'm ten years old, fer chrissakes?" I go, "Just kidding, forget about it," and start Dodger's haircut the same way I started Vinnie's, running the clippers down the middle of Dodger's scalp. Much less hair comes of with this haircut because I cut Dodger's hair a couple of weeks ago. It's grown maybe a quarter inch, which is about the length of the clippings. It'll all soon be back to one-eighth inch like mine's gonna be after my haircut on Wednesday. The cum in Dodger?s hair makes those hairs stiff but these are professional clippers purchased a few years ago, used, on eBay. Maybe five minutes into the haircut, with neither Vinnie, me, or Dodger saying a word, the clippers the only sound any of us hears, Dodger's body gets tense as a steel wire with him grunting quietly and subtly humping his hips. I assume he's having a spontaneous climax, just like Willie can give me from just making-out with me and messin' with my anus. After some deep breaths, Dodger goes, "Ahhh, that was awesome. I just had a orgasm in my pants, and it felt great. Oh man! What a rush, love this fetish!" For the rest of his haircut Dodger talks non-stop describing each phase of arousal he experienced prior to his spontaneous climax. He makes it sound hot, too.
With both haircuts completed, I help by rubbing hairs off Dodger's and Vinnie's shoulders, enjoying the feel of their youthful skin texture. They then put their shirts on and we go outside for a cigarette, and to compare climaxes. Vinnie's climax seems to be the most explosive, and while I did exaggerate mine quite a bit to make Vinnie feel good, it was pretty hot to begin with. Certainly it wasn't up there with the best climaxes I've had, but good enough. As I always say: the worst orgasm I ever had was pretty damn good. We goof around for a while, but then I need to shoo them on their way so I can clean up the hair clippings and take a shower. Gotta get ready for my dinner with Chubby. Right now I'm feeling the best I've felt since finding out about Ryan. It's a combination of things: one, Robby fucked me a quickie this morning, and he's doing a better one tonight in his pickup; I hope he is at least, he said he would. There was a time I'd stake my life on Robby's word, but lately Ryan's clouded Robby's thinking and his word hasn't always meant what he said. The second reason I'm feeling better, though not great, are the prospects I have lined up for this coming week, which include the hottie Shaun, and possibly even Matthew. At the very least there will be two very nice heads of hair I'll get to cut, and that's fun and sexy for me. The third thing is Willie on Wednesday, which I'm getting more excited about the closer I am to it. I'm going to let myself go again with Willie, but not to the degree I did in Key West. Truth is, I want to experience that ten year old feeling again. It's an indescribable state of mind, calming and dreamy and sexy, and there's a scary little bit of a powerless feeling associated with it too. At least that's how it's been with Willie. And the forth thing making me feel better about things is the fact we're almost finished with our freshman year, and we're all doing pretty good with the grades. So, my life's looking much better than it did yesterday or the day before; things are trending in the right direction. The hair cleanup is no problem and the shower is just what I needed to perk me up further. Out of the shower and dried off, I check my watch and see it's only six-thirty so I'm in good shape time-wise, too.
Light tan kakis, blue button-down-collar shirt, dark blue Merrimack V-neck sweater, and oxblood loafers is my outfit for Ken's Steak House. Chubby calls me on his cell phone saying, "I got home earlier than I expected, so I'm showered and dressed already. Our reservation's not until eight o'clock, so come on up and we'll do some front loading 'cause we sure as shit won't get served booze at Ken's." I go, "I'll be right up, Chub." First I'm checking myself out in the mirror while trying to brush my quarter-inch long hair. I'm thinking, 'Looking good, dude'. My earrings are cool, two little gold hoops, and I again think of that hot stud I met on the Wildwood boardwalk a couple of years ago; him and his sexy cute boyfriend, Richie. Cool dudes and I'm feeling kinda cool myself tonight. A little too dressed-up maybe, but I'll rock the preppy look tonight. I'm wearing the oh-so-cool watch that Willie bought me in Key West and the cross necklace too; it's hanging around my neck, laying on the sweater looking sexy. Last thing is to check that I've got my wallet and money, and I'm good to go. Upstairs at Chubby's condo I remember I forgot cigarettes, but let myself in anyway and see that Chubby's wearing almost the identical outfit I'm wearing. He says, "Ah ha, brilliant minds think alike", meaning we're dressed the same. I go, "You look marvelous," saying it like that guy on Saturday Night Live does in the old reruns of that show. Chubby's got two shot glasses set-up on the kitchen bar along with a bottle of Maker's Mark 46 bourbon, two unopened pony bottles of Rolling Rock beer, and a can of Planters honey roaster peanuts and cashews. I'm like, "Oh no, not shots and beers!" Chubby laughs, saying, "Yeah, but we're not in a contest defending the drinking prowess of Merrimack students tonight, so we should be okay with a few shots and beers." That gets me muttering, "I'm not worried about me 'cause I know my limit, but shots and beers have been known to be your downfall, Chubby." He goes, "Give me a hug, and shut the fuck up with the lecture, mommy." I chuckle, saying, "We need to adopt the Dickers? brothers quick as a wink kiss; you know, when we meet after a long separation." Chubby hugs me, asking, "What qualifies as a long separation?" I'm like, "Four hours," and I do the quick as a wink kiss on his lips making Chubby smile. He goes, "Looks like I don't have much say in the matter," as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. "Hey!" I yell, "You just wiped my kiss away. We'll need to do it again, and this time leave the fuckin' kiss there." He imitates my eye-roll and stands there while I kiss him again, and this time it's longer then a quick as a wink kiss. Chubby asks, "We good now?" I say, "I guess, but you're supposed to kiss back." He mumbles, "The boy's never satisfied," as he pours two shots of his mom's Maker's Mark bourbon, then takes the caps off the seven-ounce bottles of beer and holds up his shot glass of bourbon, saying, "To us, the best friends the world's ever seen... to quote you." I'm like, "Well, I'll toast to that," and pick up the other shot glass to touch Chubby's shot glass, and we both go, "Cheers," then dump the whole ounce and a half of bourbon in our mouths and swallow. I'm immediately gagging as all kinds of saliva invades my mouth and the feeling of hurling coming on me fast. I grab the beer bottle and chug a few swallows, tempering the danger of vomiting just enough to avoid throwing up; then I gobble a half dozen sweet nuts to further kill the taste of the bourbon and beer. Gasping, with tears in my eyes, I exclaim, "That was awesome!" Chubby's smirking as he sips at his beer, then says, "You almost tossed your cookies, didn't ya?" I'm indignant, "Surely you jest. Shots and beers are one of my favorite things," as I'm burping and wiping the tears from my eyes, adding, "I need a cigarette after that."
He's laughing, muttering, "One of your favorite things, my ass!" and I go, "That too," and goose his ass as we're going out on the balcony. In the fresh cool air my head clears and my stomach settles down. Chubby says, "My mom says that when she was our age everyone smoked in their houses, cars, bars, at work... you name it; there was cigarette smoking going on, and most people smoked back then too. Now smokers are like outcasts." I mumble, "Stupid social mores rule our lives. Humans are lemmings." He says, "Well, that ain't the way I roll, lemmings-wise I mean. I think for myself, which reminds me; how about we hit the mall tomorrow 'cause I want to get my other ear pierced. That's a cool look." I go, "Uh huh, where'd ya ever get that idea?" He's indignant, "Not because you have both ears pierced, if that's what you're inferring. I had the idea way before you even got your first ear pierced." I've got an expression on my face inferring I'm dubious about that last statement, Chubby lights a cigarette, muttering, "Think what you want, but, like I said, I was thinking of getting both ears pierced before you got your cute ear pierced." He takes a drag as I'm saying, "I believe you made fun of my pierced ear initially, and then got your left ear pierced just like mine a couple of weeks later." He exhales smoke through his grin, mumbling, "Revisionist history," and I grin now too and, taking the cigarette from his fingers, ask, "How'd your day go with Mary Jo's father?" After I take a drag Chubby takes back the cigarette, "Mary Jo and I now hate each other so the day was pretty awkward actually, but I made seventy dollars. Seven hours of work at ten bucks an hour. If I'd worked slower I could have dragged it out to eight hours. Her father can't hire anyone as cheap as I work, so he's stuck with me. He even offered me a job this summer, but it's a part time gig and I'd rather work with you and Robby full time this summer." He burps up some bourbon and spits it over the balcony. I go, "Cheap bourbon," and Chubby says, "The hell it is, the price tag on the bottle says thirty-one dollars." I exclaim, "You're shitting me," and he goes, "I shit you not, take a look when we go inside." To get the last word, I say, "Your mom got robbed, dude." We finish the first cigarette and Chubby flicks it twenty feet out from the balcony. Back inside we grab our pony bottles of Rolling Rock beer, then back outside again to light a second cigarette, which we'll share like the first one. This time we do the childish exaggerated lipping of the cigarette's filter each time we pass it back and forth, which gets us giggling like nine-year old boys. I don't know why we think that's so funny, but we do. Gulping down the rest of our seven-ounce beers, I take a last drag off the cigarette butt and flick it off Chubby, but it does go over the balcony after hitting him. I laugh, saying, "I did that on purpose." He goes, "You're gonna set me on fire one of these days, bro," and I get the last word in again, "You're so hot, Chubby, I expect you to spontaneously burst into flames every time I see you." He squeezes my hand and we go inside for another beer.
"These pony bottles are the way to roll, Dylan. Ya don't get as drunk drinking these." I'm like, "That's insane! Ya just drink more of them, it's no different than drinking from twelve-ounce bottles." He taps his head with his forefinger, "It's psychological, my friend." I go, "It's idiotic, is what it is." Taking the offered second bottle from Chubby, I ask, "How come you and Mary Jo went from being boyfriend and girlfriend to hating each other? Isn't there some middle ground? I mean, Robby and me are at some sort of crossroads, but we'll never come close to hating each other. That's inconceivable. And we're never going to be just-somebody-that-we-used-to-know either; we'll be lovers or, at least good friends forever." He shrugs, takes a long pull on the pony bottle, and says, "Maybe you'll think differently if you break-up. And it beats me why Mary-pain-in-the-ass-Jo and me hate each other, Dylan. All I know is I hate her and she hates me." I ask, "How 'bout Sam, do ya hate her yet?" He chuckles, saying, "Pretty much," then laughs some more, shrugging his shoulders again. I mutter, "Weird," and Chubby explains that he's never been close to being in love with a girlfriend, and he thinks that's the difference; Robby and I are in love. I'm like, "It may just be a 'straight' thing too, the hating. I've read that husbands and wives who've loved each other, and then get divorced for some reason, can often hate each other. So it's not just when there's no love was initially involved, it's that it was straight love." Chubby says, "You're giving me a headache. Why do you always need to over-analyze everything when some things are just the way they are? And anyway, all straight marriages that end in divorce don't end with the two hating each other." I go, "Some do," and he says, "Some gays probably do too." It's my turn to shrug, as I mutter, "You don't know that." Chubby's grinning as he pours us another shot of bourbon, then he says, "Your turn for a toast, mister get-the-last-word-in." I smirk at him thinking how cool he looks, then pick-up my shot glass, and say, "To friendship and our love of a lifetime." We click glasses and swill down the vile booze. It's horrible this time too, but the urge to throw-up isn't as noticeable, although sweat does break out on my forehead. I guzzle the beer to kill the taste of Maker's Mark 46. When my stomach stops heaving, I say, "Just a suggestion, but your mom might want to consider trying Maker's Mark 47 next time. This is a little rough." Chubby laughs and plops half a handful of peanuts in him mouth and chews them, going, "Mmmm, good!" Then he says, "This is a top of the line booze. There isn't a 47 variety." I mutter, "I knew that," and Chubby says, "Last-word-Dylan. That's what I'm going to call you from now on." I look at him with affection in my eyes, and say, "I love doing things with you, Chubby. We gotta do more stuff together, just you and me." He gets up, ruffling my short hair, saying, "I gotta use the little boy's room. Ya wanna do that together too, just you and me?" Realizing the booze is affecting me a bit, I say, "Splendid idea, Chubby," and follow him into his bathroom to exclaim, "Oh my God, Chubby! When was the last time you picked up in here?" He takes out his dick while lifting up the toilet seat, mumbling, "I'm gonna clean up in here soon, mister neatnik." Pulling out my dick, I start peeing, crossing streams with Chubby's pee stream, asking him, "Do ya notice a difference in our dicks?" He yells, "That's a low blow, Mister Big Dick!" And I say, "Stop calling me names." Finished his pee, Chubby hugs my shoulders and kisses my cheek, saying, "I love you, Dylan Big Dick." I can't help but smile, muttering, "Me too, Chubby."
We do a third shot and then Chubby puts the bourbon away, saying, "That's about all we need of this dangerous substance," and we finish our third beer on the balcony smoking again. We're both pleasantly affected by the booze, but we're not drunk. Now if it were Robby, he'd be drunk. Funny how some guys have a better tolerance for alcohol than others. Finished the beer and cigarette, we go back to Chubby's messy bathroom to take turns with his toothbrush, then gargle to lesson the smell of booze on our breath. Chubby says, "I'm feeling great and I'm hungry too, but we gotta stop for cigarettes 'cause those were my last two." I go, "Good planning, Chubby. You could have bought a pack in Salem, New Hampshire, which is six miles from our college, where they cost five dollars and change. Instead you're cleverly buying them in Framingham where you gotta pay eight dollars and change, plus they add the sales tax, they're taxing taxes, fer chrissakes. I'll get a pack from my condo." He says, "That's the second lecture from you tonight. You've reached your lecture limit for the evening, and I'm buying my own pack. I don't mooch." Shrugging, I go, "Suit yourself," and expect Chubby to say something about me getting the last word again, but he squeezes my hand and smiles instead. He was thinking of saying something though. We go down one fight of stairs to the level my condo's on, and then down another longer flight of steps to our Jeep that's parked at the curb, and I get in the driver?s side, asking, "Where ya wanna get the cigarettes?" He says, "Joe's Variety store," so I drive there using my will power not to say something along the lines of 'Not only are you paying way more for cigarettes in Massachusetts, but you're buying them at a convenience store where the price is jacked-up further on everything'. It's not my money, but it's not real smart. I park at Joe's and Chubby says, "Come in with me, Dylan, so I don't do anything else that's dumb." I go, "I'm sorry if I inferred that, Chubby. I don't think you're dumb; far from it." He gets his arm around my neck affectionately, mumbling, "I'm kidding you." I go, "I knew that," and we go inside where I spot Ray with one of his friends. Ray comes right over, to say, "Hiya, Dylan. Um, do you think we can get together this weekend?" I ask, "Where's our hug?" We do the one arm hug with a pat on the back, then I say, "Maybe, Ray. I've got a lot of stuff I gotta do though. It's final exams week, but I'll call your cell phone if I can find some free time. I'd really like to help you further in your quest to determine if you?re bi. What's your cellphone number?" He gives it to me and as I'm typing his number into my cell phone, he asks, "Have ya given any more thought to us being, you know, boyfriends? I'll drop the girlfriend if that would help." I pat his shoulder, saying, "I'm kinda tied up with boyfriends and girlfriends right now, Ray, but it's a long summer so ya never know. You're cool for asking though, dude." He smiles, "Thanks, you too. We'd be good together 'cause you're a bottom and I top awesomely, don't ya think?" I go, "You're hot alright." Chubby's got his pack of cigarettes now, so he comes over, asking, "Yo Ray, you do anything weird lately?" Ray shrinks away from Chubby, muttering, "I don't do weird things," then to me, "I gotta see what my bud's up to. See ya later, Dylan." I shoot him with my index finger, asking Chubby, "Why are you so mean to him?" Chubby shrugs, "He's weird, that's why," and we have no more to say about that, except to get my last word in, I mutter, "He's not any weirder than most."
Back in the Jeep Chubby says, "We're late again, it's five of eight." I answer with, "It's not necessary to be there exactly at eight. Anyway, they keep us waiting sometimes with that bull crap about,? and now I mimic a person at the reservation station when they give the line, "We're setting up your table now. It'll only be a few minutes." At the restaurant we get seated right away which is disappointing because I wanted my prediction to happen. Well, we're ten minutes late so I guess they had time to set-up our table during those ten minutes. All the booze I drank is now into my bloodstream, and I'm feeling it. Booze loosens up one's inhibitions, so while we're looking at the menus, I ask Chubby, "How many times a week do you have sex with one of your girlfriends?" He says, "If I'm lucky once or twice, how 'bout you?" I blush, saying, "That's kind of a personal question, isn't it?" Chubby laughs, muttering, "You are one of a kind, Dylan. I love ya, dude." I'm thinking, 'Jesus, twice a week? If I don't get it twice a day I'm moping around.' In a serious manner, 'cause I'm seriously interested, I ask, "Is twice a week about average for straight guys?" Chubby says, "Hell no! It's way above average for the majority of guys that I know, not that we have frank discussions about it. I'd say there's probably only fifteen percent of guys at college who will stay virgins right through college, but that don't mean they're getting it regularly. Some maybe get laid randomly only a few times by the time they graduate, and that includes random fucks they may have managed in high school." That makes me think of Ears Henderson and his roommate Scott Tinsdale. Scott told me neither of them has 'scored' all year. Glad I'm not straight. Before I can say anything else, a waitress, looking a little like Chubby's mom, says, "Hello boys, what can I get for you tonight?" Chubby asks, "What's the prime rib look like tonight?" Our waitress says, "All the rare slices are gone, but we have some that are almost medium rare." Chubby looks at me and I go, "Nah, why take a chance?" Then to the waitress, "I'll have Ken's special-cut steak on the rare side, french fries and the house salad." She says, "You get a choice of vegetables too," and I go, "Do deep-fried onion rings count as a vegetable?" She laughs, "For you they do, good looking," and I blush slightly, mumbling, "Thanks, I'll have those." Chubby goes, "I'll have everything Dylan's having, sounds good." She's writes stuff on a little pad, asking, "Something to drink?" I go, "Iced tea with lots of sugar and two slices of lemon." Chubby asks, "What beers do you have on tap?" and she smiles, saying, "I hope you have a good fake driver?s license because you look way too young to be ordering beer." I say, "There's actually no age limit for ordering it," and she laughs again. Then she says, "No, you're right there, Dylan. Are you two good-looking boys brothers?" Chubby goes, "Are you kidding? He's a foot taller than me." She's a real nice lady, telling us, "My two sons look alike, but one is five inches taller than the other, and they?re over twenty years old so their growing years are over." Chubby's like, "No kidding, but we're not brothers. Instead of beer, 'cause I left my fake ID at home, I'll have a Coke. That goes with steak, right?" She has such a nice easy smile as she's saying, "Coke goes with anything in my book. Thank you, guys. It'll be a few minutes, we're busy as hell tonight." Chubby and I mumble, "No problem," and she says, "Your drinks will be right up, along with a basket of rolls."
When she leaves, Chubby's like, "That's a good waitress," and I tell him about the coughing waitress-from-hell Robby and me had last night at the second restaurant we tried. He says, "You guys did the right thing in walking out. Usually us teens get no respect." I go, "I think it's a tipping thing; some teens aren't into tipping, ya know." Chubby's like, "Assholes. Hey, did I tell you my mom's already rented a place in Wildwood again this year?" I go, "Hot shit!" although he'd already told me some time ago. I go back to my alcohol-assisted frank discussion about sex. "Chubby, um... that is, you and I have experienced my kind of sex a couple of times, how come straight sex is better?" He goes, "Fuck, I wish I had another beer," I go, "And a cigarette." He makes a face, then says, "It?s hard for me to really differentiate the two, Dylan. Gay and straight sex, I mean, and not the beer and cigarettes." We're not slurring our words in the least, but the booze has loosened our tongues. I ask, "Why's that?" and Chubby's like, "Because I'm prejudiced where you?re concerned and I haven't done it with any other boy, so I'd say having sex with you, while it's not a good idea because it gives you false signals, is just as pleasurable for me as having sex with girls. I don't have anything else to compare it with except you and the girls I've been lucky enough to have sex with." I ask, "How 'bout Ricky?" He says, "You know I hate talking about that, Dylan. It's the low point in my life, and anyway I never fucked him; it was always the other way around." Pressing my luck, I mutter, "You told me you were getting to like it." He gets a disgusted expression on his face, then says, "Goddammit, Dylan, will you ever let me forget that? I was brainwashed or something. Him and his father were master manipulators of all us window washer boys. We were seventeen fer chrissakes! It was the money crunch, too and I wanted to make my share because you were making yours. We needed driver's licenses and that meant driver?s training costs, then we needed to buy our Jeep, and that meant auto insurance. All that shit cost money. I let money fool me into believing in Ricky and his father, maybe because I wanted to impress you by contributing more than you to our cause. I don't know, but it's a humiliation that will stay with me all my life. And it started out like a simple game of merits and demerits; I told you all about it. Spankings in jest became real spankings, then it was bare ass spanking after awhile, then we had to take our pants off completely. It's was like, every little new indignity I'd think, ?Well I've come this far so what's a little more?? And then the playful fingering of assholes of the guys who were that day's demerit leaders, with the rest of the crew laughing and egging Ricky on until penetration and then, you know..." Chubby's got tears in his eyes by now, so I say, "We paid those assholes back, Chubby. They're the ones who won't forget that payback all their miserable lives." He nods his head, "Yeah, thanks to you we paid them back," and that makes me remember Jake's rape of me. He took care of the payback with my promise not to tell anyone about him raping me, and we both kept our word. Chubby goes, "The payback you arranged scared the shit out of me, to tell you the truth. Burning their house down and kicking the living shit out of them was maybe a little over the top. How'd you manage to get in touch with that motorcycle gang? I forget." I go, "Through my mom's boyfriend at the time. Neither he nor I mentioned that to mom though." Then we're both pensive and I'm wishing I'd never brought the subject up. In my convoluted thinking I was hoping to get around to somehow convincing Chubby that boy-on-boy buddy sex wasn't so bad, and so maybe later tonight... you know. But now I can see I accomplished the opposite, and it was a stupid booze-induced idea in the first place because I'm going to be with Robby later tonight anyway.
Another waitress interrupts our pensiveness by putting a basket of French rolls on the table along with a saucer containing balls of butter in ice, then she asks, "Who gets the Coke?" Chubby raises a finger and she puts a large glass of Coke in front of him and a similarly sized glass of iced tea in front of me. We mumble, "Thanks," and both take a drink, then grab a roll and butter it. With a mouthful of roll, I say, "I'm sorry I brought that Ricky memory up, Chubby." He rubs his nose, then says, "No, it's okay, Dylan. I was just thinking about how the memory doesn't cause me as much anguish as it used to. Maybe I've rationalized in my mind that I couldn't have done anything differently than I did at the time. I finally stopped putting up with it and then, before I could get fired, you brought hell down on their heads when I told you about it. The only thing I hate is that I didn't figure things out sooner, but I learned a lesson. If something doesn't seem right for any reason, I'm not doing it. I'll bet nobody will ever be able to fuck with my head like that again." I grin, saying, "I'm sure you didn't over-rationalize anything. When have you ever used convenient rationalization?" He spits out some crumbs of roll laughing. Then chuckling, he goes, "Okay, fine... once in a while I rationalize. It's a very useful tool." We both grab another roll, as Chubby asks, "What would you imagine the first product in America with a bar code was?" I guess, "Condoms?" He says, "Good guess, you're close, but it was Wrigley's gum." I mutter, "That was my second choice." He asks, "In a deck of cards which king is the only one without a mustache?" I guess, "King of diamonds?" He says, "Oh my God, everyone knows the king of diamonds has a mustache. It's the king of hearts, of course. Use your head." I laugh, asking, "How many planets rotate clockwise?" Chubby drinks some Coke, then says, "Just one, Venus." I go, "Yeah that was too easy," thinking, ?How the fuck did he know that?' I looked up a couple of factoids online knowing we were going out to dinner and I wanted to turn the tables on him. Chubby's the king of factoids though. He's got another, "This is an ironic one, Dylan. What scared Walk Disney more than anything?" I'd really like to get this, so I'm thinking ironically, and, thinking about Mickey Mouse, I come up with, "Was it mice?" Chubby goes, "I forget," and we both laugh. Good, I finally guessed one correctly. Then our food comes and we dig in, and it's delicious. In between a big piece of steak and a french fry, Chubby mutters, "Good choice, Dylan," and that makes me think of Willie always ordering my food for me when we're at a restaurant.
During dinner, we talk mostly about our freshman year at Merrimack highlighting the good times, which consists mostly of living on our own and the parties, and the low points, which consists mainly of long boring classes and the unexpected amount of out of class work we need to do at night. See, college would be almost perfect if there wasn't any formal education involved! But, as I always say, few things are perfect. We eat everything on our plates as we talk, and maybe our so-called vegetable was the most delicious part of the meal, which is saying something because all of it was excellent. After the table is cleared by an average-looking and slightly stuck-up busboy, our cheerful waitress appears, asking, "Any room left for dessert, fellows?" Chubby asks, "Do you still have the white cake with white icing and sprinkles?" She says, "Yes, we do," and Chubby says, "I'll have that, please. Oh, and a cup of coffee too." Naturally I go, "Me too. The same thing." She chuckles, "You guys are two peas in a pod, ain't cha?" I go, "Exactly!" and Chubby mutters, "Not really," but he's smiling at me with that look of love in his eyes that I see in Chubby's eyes from time to time, and it makes me feel warm all over. When our nice waitress leaves, I say, "We are too like two peas in a pod. We tell each other everything, dress alike, people say we look alike, and we're identical best friends like the world has never seen before." Chubby goes, "Well, we don't tell each other everything. For example, I got a huge secret that I'm not telling you; two of them actually." I ask, "What are they?" He laughs, saying, "That's what makes them secrets, me not telling you. If I told you, then I wouldn't have secrets, would I?" I nag him to tell me until our desserts arrive and then we dig into them. After we've eaten every crumb, Chubby takes a sip of coffee, without slurping it, and says, "I've got to let someone else tell you one of the two secrets because I'm not supposed to even know about it; and the other one is my own, but I don't know if telling you it is the right thing to do." The waitress is back, "Ready for the check, fellows?" Chubby goes, "Oh, that won't be necessary because we're going to sneak out without paying." She smiles, saying, "Somehow you two don't seem the type to do that," and I say, "You're right again, and I'll have another piece of cake and another coffee; then we're ready for the check." Chubby mumbles, "This pea would like the same thing Dylan's getting." She laughs her easy laugh, saying, "You too are awfully cute, or I guess you'd prefer handsome." I go, "No, cute's good." Another smile and she's off to get more cake... let 'em eat cake!
After eating the second piece of cake, I'm finally full. The bill comes and Chubby leaves the entire eighty-two dollars we stole from the would be rapists, saying, "We need to throw in five bucks each of our own money to get the tip to twenty percent." I pull a five-dollar bill from my pocket, saying, "Jeez, the price of eating out has gone up since the last time we were here." Chubby says, "When was the last time you got a meal like this for five dollars?" I go, "The last time we had dinner with the moms; that was five dollars less, actually." He goes, "Ya got me there, bro," and then we're off for the parking lot and an after dinner cigarette. After lighting up the cigarette and taking a drag, Chubby passes the smoke to me, asking, "Ya wanna go to a party tonight?" I say, "Let me text Robby. We're supposed to hook-up later tonight." Chubby goes, "That's cool, we don't need to stay long anyway. I was up early this morning and worked all day so I'm kinda tired, but a little partying I can handle." I text Robby and he texts me right back saying, ?Due to Dodger not getting home until eight o'clock from whatever he was doing with Vinnie, and I don't even want to know what that was, but he told me anyway which made me think of you and me, we're late. We're just sitting down to dinner now at Bugaboo Creek. I'm getting a steak. I'll pick you up at your place around eleven thirty. Okay?? The original limits of early texting don't hold true for iPhones anymore; we can send texts like it's a short email. I text back, ?I'll be ready and I'm looking forward to it.? I ask Chubby, "Where's the party?" He goes, I don't know. I wasn't invited, but it's sort of an open party for friends I hear, so that's no problem. Mary Jo's father mentioned that she was going to the party tonight so that's how I know there is one." I ask, "What's your plan? Go door to door until we find it?" He says, "We could do that, or I can call Mary pain-in-the-ass Jo's cell phone and ask her." I go, "But you hate each other?" and he's like, "That don't mean she won't tell me where the party's at," as he's hitting her speed dial number. He holds his hand up, meaning he needs to talk. "Yes, it's me and no I'm not apologizing." He waits a second, then says, "Well, I hate you even more than that. Where's the party?" He listens, then says, "The same to you! Now where the fuck's the party?" He's nodding his cute head, then, "Yeah, I know him. He's cool." Raising his eyebrows, he gives me a look, like 'what a pain in the ass she is'. His last words to Mary Jo are, "Yeah, right after hell freezes over," and then clicks off the connection, telling me, "It's at Jesse Butler's house. Plenty of booze, of which I'm not going to overindulge, so save the lecture." We get in the Jeep with Chubby driving, because he knows where we're going. I ask, "Who's Jesse Butler?" Chubby tells me, "He's a junior from Amherst College; pretty good guy. You'll think he's very hot too. He dates one of pain-in-my-ass Mary Jo's girlfriends from her neighborhood." I go, "It should be interesting being an uninvited guest at a party where most of the attendees are probably agreeing with Mary Jo's point of view regarding you guys breaking up." Chubby laughs, saying, "Yeah, sounds like fun."
to be continued...
Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com