DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 29
by Donny Mumford
At a little after seven o'clock Sunday night Daryl and I are in the Jeep on our way to Tracy's Speakeasy. As we approach Tracy's we see an overflow crowd on the outside deck so I drive on by, muttering, "Nah, too crowded.
Everyone's returning from Thanksgiving break and reconnecting with roommates
and friends over a few beers. Let's forget about stopping there." Daryl points at the throng of college students partying outside in the cold, saying, "I'll bet I could score some grass in that crowd." I'm like, "Jesus, we're the odd couple, Pony. I don't like grass and you don't like booze." He says, "I don't like beer, but I'll do shots with you. Liquor gets you high quicker, and getting high is the only reason for drinking, right? I mean you don't 'drink' because you like the taste."
Stopped at a red light, I give him a tongue-in-cheek lecture, "Drinking a few beers isn't just about the taste or getting high quickly. Having some beers with your buds is a social occasion. Anyway, beer doesn't taste too awful after getting past the first one or two." He sarcastically replies, "Oh, thank you for explaining that to me, Professor Newman," and I go, "I'm just trying to help you with social skills." He goes, "Seriously though, you're like most guys, Dylan. I'm the oddball who only reluctantly will have a beer or two if I absolutely must because of peer pressure. The only other guy I know who feels the same way is that Markie kid at the card games." I'm like, "Um, have you ever spoken to him?" Pony shrugs, "Not really. I'm not good at starting a conversation with someone I don't know. I mean without seeming dorky." I go, "Dude, you could casually commiserate with him about how you both hate beer. Or compliment him by saying, 'Good hand' if he wins a pot, something like that. You're not a social nitwit, are you?" He says, "Yeah, that's right, I'm a social retard, okay?" I pat his shoulder, "Don't be so sensitive, Pony. Hell, you didn't have any trouble talking with me when we first met." He says, "We'd already bumped into each other a few times before we spoke, plus you're, um, very approachable. Didn't you notice I
was a little tongue-tied at first?" I go, "No, you seemed fine to me."
I'm apparently not a very good matchmaker. I've introduced Mark and Pony to one another but it hasn't gone any further than that. I go, "Anyway, let's get some dinner and maybe stop in at Tracy's later. You can try scoring some grass if you want. I wanna buy a case of beer because there's only two cans of Coors left in the apartment refrigerator." Daryl's patting his hair, asking, "Do I really need to get mousse for my hair? I think it's trained
already." I glance over at him, smirking, then say, "Hey, cowboy, where'd you get that awesome haircut?" He says, "It looks good, doesn't it?" I begrudgingly agree, "Yeah, but only because I was able to make even that abomination of a hair-style look okay. And yeah, maybe you can skip the mousse."
He goes, "This is the first time since third or fourth grade I've had a hair-style other than a buzz cut, and I'm feeling kinda cool about it." To my delusional side-sex buddy, I say, "Me too, but for your next haircut I'll do something that actually is cool." He mumbles, "No thanks, I don't want anything different... I like this haircut." Jesus Christ, I wanna scream! Nobody 'gets' it.
Driving to the restaurant/bar, the one where I met Markie, I'm thinking maybe he'll even be at the bar tonight. Yeah, but so what if he is? I've given up trying to be matchmaker for Pony and Mark, and... Hey wait a second; a little while ago I was thinking Daryl was my one and only side-sex-buddy, but that's not totally true. I forgot about Markie and me on Halloween night. Huh, and now that I think about it, it's kinda odd he hasn't hinted for an encore. I mean, he's played cards at the apartment two or three times since Halloween but he acts like it never happened. Or maybe he's waiting for me to hint around for an encore. Then I get this thought: 'How hot would a
three-way be with moi, Pony, and Markie? Whoa!' Then I'm like, 'Get a fuckin' grip on reality, dude!' I'm so sure they'd both be comfortable having a three-way-sex-a-thon... NOT! Well, Markie might be okay with it, but not Daryl. He's too deeply in the closet.
At the restaurant there's a couple of open spaces in the small parking lot so I slide the Jeep in between a pickup truck and a Volvo station wagon.
Pony whines, "Why are we even eating at a bar?" I'm like, "What's your problem now?" He goes, "I can't get served and I'll get humiliated trying."
Getting out of the Jeep, I chuckle, "My man, you don't like beer so why are you whining about not getting served. We'll sit at a table and order dinner.
I'll have a beer and you have something else like a Coke or iced tea." He nods, then in a wise-ass manner says, "You're so knowledgeable when explaining complicated things like this to me." I go, "Hey, you're the one whining about being humiliated." Walking toward the entrance, he says, "I'm just breaking your balls. Hey, have you given any thought about my idea of you and me taking a bath together?" Pretending I've never taken a bath with another
guy, I go, "It's hard to wrap my head around that one, Pony, but it might be fun at that. Which one sounds like more fun; the bath or a shower?" He shrugs, "Let's do both." What a sexy, hot-shit idea! Inside it's not crowded at all, but then it is fairly early on a Sunday night. As soon as we sit at a table a waitress comes right over. She sort of smirks, then says, "I'm gonna need ID boys, and it better be really good 'cause local law enforcement frowns on us serving alcohol to high-school students." Her name tag reads, 'Kitty'. Huh, really! As I'm getting my wallet out, I say, "Well, Kitty, what if we only want dinner?" She goes, "Yeah well, the law's a little sketchy on that one, honey. Different interpretations from town to town and bar to bar. In here, if it's before say nine o'clock, and the minor is with an adult, then we usually let it slide. Not at the bar though; just at the tables." Smirking, I hand her my driver's license and she goes, "Wow, you fooled me. How about you, honey," speaking to Daryl.
He gives her his license and jabs his thumb at me, saying, "I'm the minor with my adult friend here." She flips the license back at him, saying, "I was referring to an adult, as in a parent. It's slow tonight though, so I'll serve you boys dinner." She lays two menus down, and I say, "Yeah, swell, but I will have a drink. A bottle of Blue Moon Ale, if you please." Kitty says, "It's a larger, not an ale, honey," and off she goes. What's with the 'honey' bull shit? Pony and I exchange 'frowns', like, what the fuck? Then we check-out the menu.
Same menu as the one at the bar the other two times I was here. Daryl, who's sitting across from me, says, "This is just burgers and tacos. I was thinking you were treating me to a real dinner. Like a streak dinner or something." I give him my dead-eye stare, and he laughs, "No, seriously, that's what I thought." Ignoring that, I go, "You know what, Pony Boy? You're a very good looking guy." He goes, "It's just, Pony, if you don't mind. Drop the 'boy' part." I nod, "Ya don't take compliments very well, do you?" He actually blushes a little, "Yeah, that was a nice compliment, but the thing is it came from the best looking guy I've ever see in my life, so I'm thinking you're laughing at me again." I go, "You'd be wrong about that, but you're right about us needing a real dinner. So, do you wanna get a soda while I drink a beer or two? Then we'll go to a real restaurant for dinner." He says, "Jesus Christ! I was teasing you. This place is fine."
The beer comes with a slice of orange. Kitty sets it down, asking, "Do you know why a slice of orange comes with Blue Moon beer?" I shrug, then say, "For the same reason a piece of lime comes with the Mexican beer, Corona, I guess." She says, "No. The lime gets rubbed on the rim of the Corona bottle to keep the Mexican flies away. The orange slice with Blue Moon was just a gimmick. When Coors began brewing Blue Moon a few years back their promotion people came up with an orange slice to differentiate it from other beers, and it worked too." I go, "Huh!" Daryl says, "I guess I'll have a Coke," and Kitty says, "Oh, goodie. Let me ask you something: are you two planning to order separately so I'll need to come to the table twice as often, is that it?" I go, "Nope! That's not it at all, Kitty. When you bring the Coke, bring the check too." She looks startled, so I add, "Um, the minor lad sitting across from me can't find anything on the menu he feels like having for dinner." She goes, "Wheesh! It's the menu then... whoa, I was afraid it was something I said." I go, "Not at all, you've been a wonderful waitress so far." She shakes her head and goes off to get Daryl's soda. He says, "You can be a real ball-buster when you wanna be, can't ya? You're still on that kick about being a prick, right?" I say, "What the fuck is its now, Pony? That wasn't being a ball-buster. I was politely explaining the situation to Kitty." He makes a face, "I don't know, Dylan, the tone of your voice oozed sarcasm, plus you threw me under the fucking bus." I'm like, "She sucks as a waitress, and you're the one complaining about burgers and tacos."
He goes, "I fucking told you I was fine with a burger for dinner." I shrug, grinning to myself. It's fun busting Pony's chops.
Kitty brings the Coke and the check; then, with nothing else to say, she walks away. Looking at the check, I'm like, "Hey! Kitty is okay after all! No charge for the Coke and she wrote 'Have a nice day' on the check." Daryl mutters, "Yeah, well the day is over; it should say, 'Have a nice night'.
don't ya think?" I mutter, "Nobody says, 'Have a nice night'" He chuckles, then asks, "How much was your beer?" I go, "Five bucks." He shakes his head, "That's ridiculous!" Yeah, when you think about it, it is ridiculous.
That works-out to $30.00 for a six-pack that I'd pay $9.00 for at a package store. Plus, you know damn well the bar buys beer by the case and pays less for it than I'd need to pay for a case. That's like a 400% mark-up on each bottle. Still busting his nuts, I go, "Jeez, Daryl, since you don't drink beer, why concern yourself with how much it cost? Anyway, there's a cool kind of atmosphere drinking in bars and that almost makes the inflated prices worthwhile." He goes, "Keep trying to talk yourself into that BS." I mutter, "Yeah, ha ha, it is pretty stupid. You done your Coke yet? Let's get outta here." We drink up and I leave seven dollars on the check; basically a 40% tip. Well, there was tax on the five-dollar beer, plus she comped Pony's Coke, and I'll be in here again so I don't want Kitty thinking I'm cheap.
I drive to the Methuen Mall and we eat at 'Not Your Average Joe's' restaurant. I order a Blue Moon beer and get carded, of course. Then find out they don't carry Blue Moon so I get a Bud. For dinner Daryl has Angus Beef sirloin tips with garlic mashed potatoes and sautéed green beans. I have spice-rubbed pork tenderloin with sweet potato wedges and something called Mexican street-corn, which is kernel corn with little pieces of green and red peppers. I don't eat that on general principal. For dessert we both have the strawberry shortcake with fresh strawberries, vanilla ice cream, and fresh whipped cream. They double-dipped by including both the ice cream and whipped cream. Maybe someone couldn't decide which would be more popular, so they serve both. The dinners were overpriced at $17.00 each, and then they really screwed me with the desserts which were $8.50 each. Walking out after dinner, I'm like, "That meal struggled mightily to make its way up to 'okay', don't ya think?" He goes, "I liked mine and I want to thank you very much for dinner. I'm so grateful for the free meal that I'm willing to suck your cock and let you fuck me." We both chuckle at that because that's nothing new; it's what we've been doing for over two months now, with or without a free dinner.
Back at the apartment we smoke a cigarette on the balcony deciding we'll do both a bath and a shower together. Done our smokes we walk inside shivering from the cold out there. It hasn't hit below freezing yet, but the forecast calls for below freezing temperatures at night all week. So far there's been no snow at all, which is fine with me, but like they say on Game of Thrones, 'winter is coming'. In the bedroom we get undressed. Naked, I pad into the bathroom and turn on the water for the tub. As odd as it probably sounds to most people, giving Daryl the haircut this afternoon makes him seem especially sexy to me tonight, and obviously that's a nod to my haircut fetish.
Pony's standing naked at my desk tapping on my computer. He's one sexy-hot looking guy, so I come up behind him and rub my hand up the back of his head, saying, "My computer is password protected so snoops like you can't see my private surfing " He turn around, "Is that right? I wasn't even thinking about that," and he chuckles, adding, "This might sound weird to you, but I was just wondering how come I'm comfortable being naked with you? I never feel comfortable being naked around anybody else." I go, "Ya got me there; I don't know, Pony. As for me, I like being naked." Then, gently touching his right butt cheek, I ask, "How's your ass?" He says, "It feels okay.
How's it look?" I'm like, "It looks sexy, dude," and he goes, "I mean how do the welts look?" Chuckling, I mumble, "I knew what the fuck you meant.
They're gone, that's how the welts look." He feels both buttocks, mumbling, "Yeah, they're healed already. It was that awesome cream you put on them, Dylan. You deserve a reward," and he awkwardly kisses my mouth after first bumping his nose against mine. I go, "Oh my God, another hot kiss from Pony Boy." He goes, "It's not Pony Boy, just Pony! And you're laughing at me again." I get him in a headlock, saying, "No I'm not!" Gee, I love the feel of a guy's naked body against mine. Pony isn't struggling to get loose though, he's hugging around my waist with both arms, mumbling, "I think I love you, Dylan." I let go of him, "Oh no! We don't go there! We're buddies who occasionally do some buddy sex." Blushing a little, he mumbles, "Don't fucking worry about it. I'm not gonna stalk you or anything, and I don't expect any love back from you. Anyway, I know you're in love with the shortstop. I just happen to love you too, that's all."
Nodding my head, I go, "Well, if I wanna stretch matters to the max, I could say I love you as my buddy-sex partner, so there's that." He grins, shouting, "I'll take it! Sold! That's more than I hoped for." I go, "You realize of course you've just made both of us feel totally awkward, right?" He goes, "Yeah, I figured that would happen, but I wanted to hear how it sounded
saying out loud, I love you, when you were present to hear it." I go, "How'd it sound?" He shrugs, "A little awkward." Grinning, I hug him, and he melds in against me. My fingers ruffle his hair as I fish for another compliment, saying, "Great fuckin' haircut," and he laughs, muttering, "Well, yeah, it is awesome." As we let go of each other he mutters, "How many fuckin' times do I gotta tell you that?"
I smirk at that and he murmurs, "But that was a smooth transition from that awkward moment by getting me to tell you how much I like the haircut instead of how much I love you." I go, "Jesus! We both like each other, Daryl.
Can't we leave it at that?" He nods, "Sure, I already said what I wanted to say." I hear water splashing on the tile floor and mutter, "Shit," then run into the bathroom to turn off the bathtub's spigot. Following me into the bathroom, Daryl goes, "Oooh, what'll we do now, Dylan?" I shrug, "Nothing much to do. The water is draining out the tub's overflow drain, so we'll mop this water off the floor with a couple of bath towels." We do that, then test the water, "Hot," says Daryl. Picking the sopping-wet towels off the floor, I'm like, "We'll wait until some more water drains out before getting in," then I drop the wet towels in the shower stall so water from the towels can run down the shower's drain. I go, "Oops! I almost forgot something," and step back into the bedroom to retrieve Rob's tube of lubricant. I know from experience that, generally speaking, fucking in water can be challenging, but the lubricant will help; water will merely bead on it.
Back in the bathroom I put the lube on the shelf next to the oversized bathtub. Pony's watching and grinning, then he mumbles, "Lubricant is an awesome idea and shows what a considerate guy you are." In our early weeks of fucking we used lubricated condoms. Then Daryl didn't have a condom one time and we fucked anyway, so now we rarely use a condom. We're standing side-by-side outside the tub watching the water level drop as it continues going down the overflow drain. Daryl looks at me for a few seconds, then asks, "How the fuck can you have such a hot body when you've never worked-out or trained like I did for the swim and gymnastic teams?" I go, "It's Mother Nature's gift to me, but I've also lifted weights. I lifted regularly all last year and I've been doing those three-mile runs with you, so I'm in good shape." He goes, "I'll say," and he flicks a finger at my nip ring, asking, "Did that hurt?" I go, "Yeah, like a mother-fucker. It's cool-looking though, don't ya think?" He nods, mumbling, "Your tattoo's cool too and your shaved pubes... oh man, sexy as hell. You're the coolest dude I've ever known."
I squeeze the back of his neck, grinning at him, "Well thank you, Daryl.
You're pretty fucking cool yourself." He shrugs, "Nah, not really." I dump a clean bath sponge in the tub, then put a plastic container of Stop & Shop bath gel on the shelf next to the lube tube. I go, "Let's get in the tub now."
Stepping one leg in I find the water's still really hot, but my other leg goes in anyway, and I'm like, "Hot!" Daryl puts a hand on my shoulder steadying himself as he steps one leg in, then the other. He makes a face, "It's gonna burn our nuts when we sit down." Holding onto his arm, I slowing sit down, saying, "Whoa! No, it's not too bad." Sitting with my back against the curved-end of the tub, opposite the faucet, then Daryl sits down with his back to me and slides backwards in between my legs. He lies his back against my chest, groaning, "It's too fucking hot for me." I put my arms around him, mumbling, "This is nice, Pony." He goes, "Yeah, actually it is." The back of his head lies against my shoulder, the side of his face partially against the side of mine with his firm buttocks pressing against my privates. I murmur, "Very soon you'll feel a hard part of me poking your butt cheek. Do not become alarmed." He murmurs, "You have no fucking idea how awesome I think this is. Being in a bathtub full of water with another gay guy just rocks so much! It's sort of my number one fantasy of all time, even more so than the sex toys." I reach up and rub his head, "It's pretty nice for me too." Not counting the hundred times Chub and I as youngsters took baths together, I've been in a tub with another guy maybe ten times. Willie liked to get in the tub with me, and I've been in the tub with Rob a few times as well. Huh, I can't remember bathing with Ryan, although I must have. I still feel bad for my over-medicated and confused friend.
Pony and I lie in the water like this for a minute or two without talking; the only sound in the bathroom is the rippling water whenever one of us moves slightly. Sweat beads on both our foreheads in the overheated bathroom with the very hot water up to our nipples. Then Daryl starts squirming against me, quietly saying, "Look who's come up to join us." Looking over his shoulder I see all five inches of his cock boned-up tightly and sticking straight up in the water; the head about eight inches below the surface. I reach down and get it in my fist. Daryl goes, "Don't, Dylan! I'll cum too fast and I like feeling my dick hard like this." I stroke it anyway: stroke, stroke, stroke. Daryl leans back heavily against me grunting and trying to push my hand away. Letting go of his boner, I say, "Turn around, Pony, and get on your knees. I'll suck on your boner a little bit." He says, "Really?"
I nod, "Sure," and he slushes water over the sides of the tub onto the tile floor as he's getting around facing me, then lifting up on his knees.
Looking into my eyes, he says, "You do realize this will make me climax in two seconds, right?" I go, "Nah, more like ten seconds."
On his knees, with his body up straight, his boner sticks straight out from his groin about two inches above the waterline. Leaning my head forward, my chin in the water, I take his hard penis in my mouth. It slides back on my tongue until the hard, smooth head bumps the back of my throat. Closing my lips, I press my tongue tightly against the underside of his boner and I pull my head back slowly dragging my tongue along his cock until just the bulbous head is left in my mouth. Pony shudders as I suck on the head and twirl my tongue around it. Gasping, he grabs my shoulders and goes, "Aaaaah,
mmmm," and a big drool of precum slides out onto my tongue. He grips my shoulders even tighter and goes, "Aaaaaah, I'm gonna cum." I'm still licking and sucking, sucking, sucking on the head of his boner for another five seconds before Pony's hips buck, then, "Oooooh, fuuuuck," as cum pumps up from his nuts and spurts out his gaping piss slit. Creamy cum covers my tongue, then another spurt of cum as I try sucking more cum from his nuts. As usual, I've got a roaring-hard boner myself from sucking cock. By now, after three good streams of cum from Pony's boner I've got cum drooling out the sides of my mouth. Pony's hips hump hard pushing his boner to the back of my throat again, both his hands at the back of my head now as a couple more spurts of cum ooze out to drool down my throat.
With a gasping inhale, he lets go of my head and sits back pulling his cock from my mouth. I'm twirling my tongue around tasting his creamy load and grinning, then I'm like, "Ain't buddy-sex more fun than a truckload of monkeys?" He inhales and exhales again, exclaiming, "Holy shit, that felt good.
Oh my God.... whooooa!" He pulls on his softening pecker, then turns around and slides backward until his back is against my chest again. Snuggling in tightly, he murmurs, "Goddamn, this is awesome!" I've got my arms around his chest giving the side of his head a kiss, murmuring, "I think you're probably going to win the cutest and most fun gay-playmate of the week award." He mutters, "There you go again, laughing at me. I don't give a shit though because from now on you're going to need to suck me off daily. That really felt good! Awesome orgasm and it wasn't as fast as I thought it'd be."
I mutter, "Your cum had a faint taste of strawberries." He chuckles, muttering, "Bull-shit." I'm like, "No, it does," as I smack my lips. He goes, "You're spoiling me, Dylan. And I don't mean in a good way either. It's like, what am I gonna be left with when you're gone? Zilch, that's what." I go, "Well, find yourself a fucking boyfriend and stop trying to lay guilt trips on me." He laughs, "Do you realize we argue a lot?" I mumble, "That's because you're such a pain in the ass." He goes, "I know you don't mean that."
We lull in the water silently for a bit, then Pony says, "We should have the CD player in here. Some tunes would go good." I say, "Yeah, well... "
then tell Daryl, "Lean over to the spigot, Pony, and turn on the hot water again; it's getting like lukewarm now." The water level is at the level of the overflow drain so when he turns on the hot water full-force we hear the sound of water gurgling down the overflow drain again. Pony gets right back between my legs lying back against my chest, and when I don't put my arms around him, he picks them up out of the water and does it for me, murmuring, "Show me a little affection, for chrissakes." I hug him one time hard, then say, "There isn't normally a lot of affection involved in buddy sex, Daryl. Don't you know anything?" He says, "Fuck that, I need some affection."
I go, "This from a guy who doesn't kiss." He goes, "That's correct; I don't." I go, "Well screw your affection desires then," but I keep my arms around him because he's got a hot body and I like him a lot.
With the back of his head on my shoulder, he says, "Tell me again about the first time you had sex, Dylan, and don't make-up some bull-shit story.
The real first-time for you." I mutter, "If I told you the truth you'd think I was bull-shitting you." He says, "Tell it anyway." I shrug, then tell him my true story. He listens without commenting for like five minutes until I'm at the part where fat Carl made me nag him for sex and how, generally speaking, he treated me like shit, humiliating me regularly" Pony goes, "I don't know whether to believe that part. I can't see you nagging that fat prick for sex, or for that matter fat Carl waiting for you to nag him. Not if he was as unattractive as you say he was. He should have been thrilled having sex with someone like you." I go, "He was a mean bastard and got off being mean to me. Plus, he was fucking his cousin too, so it's not like he wasn't having sex. Surprisingly, a few years later, he lost a lot of weight and his acne cleared-up and he was kinda good looking. He remained the same deep creep he'd always been though. Basically I didn't know any better at the time; I was naive and only seventeen-fucking-years-old." He nods his head against my shoulder, saying, "Yeah, but at least you found Willie and had those cool adventures with him. I was seventeen when Sam dumped me because I was still in the closet, and then there wasn't anyone after that. Not until I met the fabulous Dylan Newman who's taken me under his wing because he's fallen in love with me." I chuckle, then say, "You flatter me too much, Pony." He goes, "I lie a lot too." I mutter, "Ah, being seventeen again.
Wouldn't that be cool, assuming you knew then what you know now? The things we learn between seventeen and twenty-one is one helluva lot!"
He tells me more about how he felt being dumped by Sam... mixed emotions mostly. I mutter, "Sorry, Pony, but shit happens. Anyway, story-telling time is over and now we need to bathe each other. I'll do you first." Then, looking around, I'm like, "Shit! I forgot to bring the shampoo from the shower stall." He says, "Well, won't we want to rinse off in the shower after bathing? We'll do the shampooing then." I grab the sponge and dunk it under water, then add bath gel, saying" Yes, excellent idea, Daryl. We'll shampoo in the shower." He goes, "Call me by my fuckin' nickname! Jeeezus!" I go, "Close your eyes and mouth, Pony, I'm going to wash your face now and, heh heh, I wouldn't want to get a lot of soap in your potty mouth." Hoping he took me at my word, I reach around in front and rub the sponge all over his face, then his ears and neck; he has the smallest Adams apple. "Dunk your head under water, Pony," He dunks twice, then wipes water off his face with both hands, saying, "That bath gel smells awesome. What kind is it?" I go, "Yeah, I think it smells good too, and it's the inexpensive Stop & Shop store brand, if you can believe that." I wash his back as he's leaning forward, then reach around in front of him again washing his chest and stomach.
Muttering, "We need to change positions, Pony," I slide him forward a little, then stand up and step past him. Damn, but I like bathing with another guy! Rob and I need to do this more often.
On my knees, in front of him now, I pick up his right arm and drag the sponge, spreading gel up and down and all around his arm and hand, then his armpit, saying, "You hardly have any hair under your arm." He gently rubs his fingers on my chin, saying, "And you don't have any beard." I go, "I shaved yesterday." He goes, "Ha! Maybe you did, but you still don't have any beard." I go, "There are Navaho Indians in my family-tree sometime long ago, um, in like frontier times." He goes, "Navaho?" and I'm like, "Actually I forget what it was someone told me about something genetic, um, about a group of my relatives way back who had almost no facial hair which probably effected my facial-hair gene. I'll look it up sometime." I'm washing his other arm kneeling in front of him, his legs spread out on either side of me. He mutters, "Whatever, you still don't have a beard." I stop, and yell, "Would you drop the beard talk already?" He lifts his eyebrows, "And you say I'm sensitive?" Lifting one of his legs by the ankle, I wash his leg, mumbling, "Nice leg for a guy." He goes, "Did you notice I have curly hairs on my calves? Um, like most guys have, I might add." I laugh, then say, "Yeah, and I don't have curly hairs on my fucking legs, but so what?" He shrugs, "Just saying..." I wash his foot, mumbling, "This is a very nice foot. If I had a foot fetish I'd be sucking on these toes of yours. Look how perfectly they're formed. Even your little toe." He goes, "Um, are you sure you don't have a foot fetish?" I go, "Yeah, I'm sure, but if I did..."
After washing his other leg and foot, I'm like, "Do you want to wash your privates?" He goes, "No, you're bathing all of me." Shrugging, I'm like, "Get up on you knees then." He gets on his knees slushing more water over the side of the tub onto the floor. I pick up his dick with my left hand and make a production out of washing it, then his nuts and we both snort out a chuckle. "How old are we anyway?," Pony asks. I'm shaking my head, "I'm just trying to get everything nice and clean for my special buddy-sex partner."
Reaching between his legs I wash his buttocks, then drag the sponge up and down his short ass crack. Done that I squeeze the sponge getting most of the soap and water out, then toss it in the direction of the hamper, saying, "No way are you using that sponge to wash my face; not after I just washed your ass with it." He laughs, "Damn, I was just thinking the same thing, and I had every intention of doing it. Heh heh. Anyway, my ass was clean to start with." I go, "Well, I need to get another sponge. Hmmm, the floor has water on it already, so," and I step out of the tub, dripping lots of water on the floor on my way to get a clean sponge. Rob and I put the bath sponges through the wash after each time we use one. Mostly we used a washcloth.
Tossing the clean sponge in the tub, I step back in and sit down. Pony says, "I feel so shining new and clean. You did an awesome job! Ya know, it's a damn good thing you sucked an orgasm out of my dick a little while ago or
there would be cum floating around in this bath water right now. You bathing me was super sexy-hot!" I go, "Glad you enjoyed it," and he says, "Yeah, but now you need to slide between my legs, the way I was sitting. I'm taking over." I slide backwards between his legs and lie back against his clean chest. He hugs me for a while, murmuring, "Oooooh, this is so nice." The hot water is still coming out full force, so I finally ask, "Is this water getting too hot for you again?" He goes, "It's fucking hot alright, but I'm used to it by now." He traces his finger across my shoulders, saying, "You have a birth mark on your left shoulder." I go, "That's a freckle." He goes, "It's a mole actually, I was trying to be nice about it." I say, "Okay, we'll settle on birth mark." He begins soaping up the sponge and then does a very conscientious job of bathing every inch of me. He takes twice as long doing it as I took and I almost fall into a trance near the end. It's like neither of us says anything for like fifteen minutes with Pony slowly dragging the soapy sponge over my body and it becomes mesmerizing to me. I'll bet I could be hypnotized easily. Daryl does everything the way I did it but much slower, and after like twenty minutes he finally squeezes the water and soap out of the sponge and tosses it over where I tossed mine. Then we get back in our original position of him lying his back on my chest as he sits in between my legs.
We continue with quiet time while I lightly rub my hands over Pony's nicely formed shoulders and then reach around in front and rub his nipples, one at a time, between my thumb and forefinger until both nipples are hard points sticking out of his tight pecs. As I've mentioned about twenty times, he has an awesome swimmer's/gymnast's body. Pony sighs, his body totally relaxed against mine. I'll bet his eyes are closed as we lie here with soap suds floating on top of the water. I'm watching them dissolve slowly, one little cloud after another turning the water the slightest bit cloudy. Finally I go, "I hate to interrupt your nap, Pony, but my boner is aching." He turns his head, straining his neck, to look at me, "I almost did fall asleep, but your boner felt so sexy against my butt cheek I couldn't doze off." I go, "I've got a wicked hard boner alright." He goes, "It sure is, and I was wondering how long you could hold-off putting it up my ass." I go, "Well now you know. Pass me that tube of lubricant." Pony leans forward and gets the tube, then passes it back to me. I stand just high enough to get my boner out of the water so I can wipe slippery lubricant up and down my hard penis and, oh my, does that ever feel good! Passing the tube back to Daryl, I sit back down in the water. It's become too hot again from the steady flow of really hot water from the spigot. "Pony, lean over and turn off the spigot, then when you sit back down I'll guide my slippery boner to your, um, rectum opening." He nods, turning his head to grin at me, then lifts up and leans to the other end of the bathtub turning off the water.
Looking back at me, Pony lowers his ass slowly until his buttocks hits the head of my boner. I'm holding it straight up in my fist and only need to slide the head an inch to the left to make contact with his asshole. "Okay, it's all up to you now." Another head nod from him and I feel pressure on the head of my cock for a second, then, "Oooh!" it slips inside Pony's body.
He's holding onto both sides of the free-standing tub, barely lowering his ass. Then he says, "I felt water go up inside me, Dylan," and he lifts his ass off the head of my boner with an, "Ahhh!" from me. Partially standing, with his ass out of the water, he asks, "Do you see water leaking out of my ass?" I go, "What's your concern about water up your ass?" Shrugging and looking back at me, he goes, "I don't know. Maybe it would be like an enema or something." I'm like, "An enema? That requires a pint of water at least, or maybe eight ounces would do it, I'm not an enema-ologist so I'm not positive. But certainly an enema needs more than a teaspoon of water." He's like, "Alright already! I'll forget about the water going up my ass," and he sits down again, slowly. This time the head of my boner hits under his balls. I drag it back a little, and, "Oooh!" as the head slides in past his sphincter muscle with Pony's grunting, "Ooh fuck, my ass already feels nice and full." Yeah, I know what he means, but oh man, a hard cock inside a friendly tight rectum feels ridiculously good too, and I'm sort of holding my breath so my moans of pleasure are under control, but wow it feels awfully good! Pony asks, "Ready?" and I grunt, "You're the boss during this endeavor, baby," and he lowers his ass two inches as I squirm on the slippery bottom of the tub; slippery with bath gel residue. Pony's goes, "Aaah, shiiit," as his heels slip forward and he plops down fully on my lap creating a wave in the tub that goes forward and then drifts back as I make a loud breathy sound with Pony going, "OWWWW! Fucccck!" He sat all the way down on my boner! Oh man, that must have hurt! Holding my breath again; this time because I feel on the verge of a premature ejaculation. Taking quick little breaths now, I rub Pony's shoulder trying to help him deal with the pain in his rectum. He's perfectly still taking short fast breaths like mine. My eyes are blinking from the sensations that are sparkling off my cock. Oooh, such sexual pleasurable from my hard penis! After a few seconds, I tentatively ask, "Are you okay, Daryl?" He holds the back of a hand up, like, 'Just a second', then he goes, "That hurt, but it's getting better quickly." I'm still rubbing his shoulders and the back of his neck, then up the back of his head with Pony moving his head back, murmuring, "Do that head massage thing again, Dylan." I do that for a minute or so, and he seems fine.
While I'm massaging his scalp, he asks, "How's my haircut look?" and I bark out a laugh, not expecting him to ask that. I go, "It looks the same,"
then rub my finger up his spine and squeeze the back of his neck with his body shivering as I ask, "Are you planning on lifting up on my boner sometime tonight?" He chuckles, "Yeah, but you just gave me chills." With a hand on either side of the tub he lifts his ass a few inches, then comes down, and lifts up a few inches again and then sits flat on my legs again, murmuring, "It's feels awesome, but it's awkward lifting with my arms. This tub is too wide." I say, "Ya wimp. Okay, we'll get up together and I'll fuck you on your hands and knees, doggie style. That's always a favorite position for fucking." He says, "Yeah, let's try staying docked together though." We try getting our feet under us with my cock still up his ass. Lots of water slushing around and splashing outside the tub making me curse under my breath and then we both get the giggles. I slip backwards pulling my cock from his ass and grabbing his waist with both hands to stop my fall. Of course we both flop down in the water on our asses. More water slushing over the rim of the tub onto the floor as Pony sarcastically mutters, "That worked pretty well." His ass missed crushing my boner by a cunt hair. Jesus! I splash some water at his back like you do in a swimming pool, then stand up dripping with water. Reaching down and grabbing his hips, I'm like, "Just get on your knees." He mutters, "I'm trying," and I go, "All you gotta do is lean forward, for chrissakes." He's laughing, quietly mumbling, "The Two Stooges." More water slushes out onto the floor as I pull on his hips helping him get forward on his hands and knees. Pony goes, "Let me back up or my face will hit the spigot when your thrusting gets me swaying to and fro." As he backs up, I mutter in a questioning manner, "To and fro?" He goes, "Fro's a word." I'm still standing, getting chilled from the relatively cooler air. The hot water seems inviting as I stroke my slippery cock that's
unfortunately lost a bit of its hardness. Pony, on his hands and knees now, looks back, "I'm ready, Mister Top." I slap his wet ass, "SMACK!" and say, "So am I, Mister Bottom." It's probably a wise move on my part to get on my knees or I could slip and fall on my ass again. The bottom of the tub is slippery and slightly hazardous.
After carefully getting on my knees, I give his ass a couple more smacks creating wet, "SMACK! SMACK!" sounds bouncing off the tile walls as Pony grins, saying, "I've been a naughty boy." I mutter, "Maybe I need to get that paddle." The head of my still fairly hard cock pokes around his asshole; three pokes and I hit the center of his anus and with a hump of my hips my boner's head disappears inside Pony's tight warm rectum and he goes, "Oooh!"
His sphincter muscles tighten around the neck of my boner and, as my cock grows harder and slightly longer, my shoulders do their shudder with some zipping sensations prickling around my groin like little electric shocks.
Another little shudder and then my hips trust, seemingly on their own, driving
my boned-up cock another three inches up Pony's ass. His head strains back as he moans, "Aaaaaah, oooh fuuuuck," and there's some thrashing in the water between his legs as he strokes his submerged boner.
With three inches or so of hard cock up Pony's ass, I rub both my hands up and down his sides, then up his back before another thrust of my hips, on purpose this time, and the rest of my boner disappears inside his rectum.
Pony lifts up moaning, "Oooh fuck, that feels good." I push in another half inch and I'm tightly docked against his buttocks. Grinding my hips gets Pony's shoulders doing their little shudder again as he settles back down on his hands and knees. Oh my God, the sensations coming off my hard penis from millions of nerve ending makes me close my eyes and moan, "Mmmmm, jeez that's awesome." His tight rectum squeezes my boner, and then his muscle contracts spastically further stimulating the nerve ending at the head of my cock making my shoulders imitate Pony's shudder. Fuck, this is really hot! Letting out my held breath, I cup my hands on his shoulder and begin fucking him steadily, hard and fast disturbing the water in the tub as it splashes all around us, waves splashing over the sides onto the floor. Pony's moaning, "Aaah, aaah, aaah," and the tile walls sing the males' ass-fucking song, "SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP," in concert with Pony's moans. My eyes close again to fully concentrate on the sexual pleasure as more and more sensations are coming off my cock, "SLAPSLAPSLAP," for two, then three minutes until Pony shudders, lifts up on his knees, his hips humping out a surprisingly long stream of cum, especially considering he had that orgasm in my mouth less than an hour ago. He's groaning, "Awwwww, oooh," then "Aaah, aaah, aaah," his
cum splattering against the spigot. My arms wrap around him tightly with my hips thrusting fast, like a dog fucking it's bitch. Quick short thrusts, "Slapslapslap," now, with every nerve ending in my body sparkling out intense pleasure, then the apex, the peak of human pleasure as my orgasm explodes... my climax has my body quivering as cum blows out of my cock saturating Pony's bowels... then another stream of cum with red dots flashing behind my tightly closed eyes. My teeth clenched, I savor this spectacular eight or nine seconds of ecstasy.
Then I'm gasping for air, my heart pounding, as the world begins spinning on its axis again. I hear Pony quietly moan as he drops forward and my arm fall away from his body. After taking a huge inhale, reality begins replacing euphoria. My cock's still hard so I lazily thrust it back and forth in his ass watching his shoulders do their little shudder as he says, breathlessly, "Feels good... ooh man, that was sooooo fucking good." Nodding my head in agreement, but still gulping in air, I pull my cock out and sit back in the water watching my cock go limp and sort of float arrogantly between my legs as it smugly lets my brain regain dominance again. Pony slides around, sitting on his ass, water slushing out of the tub, to say, "Cool fuck in hot water, huh?" I nod, muttering, "Nice ass ya got there." He grins, then says, "It's over already though. Damn, I wish it lasted longer." I nod, "Yeah, I've had that thought myself after climaxing, oh, say five hundred times." Rubbing his nose, he mumbles, "You're probably only exaggerating by four hundred-and-fifty times." I go, "I was including my early teen jerk-offs." He chuckles, then goes, "Oh, in that case you've probably underestimated by about a thousand." I snort out a laugh, "You're thinking of your jerk-off history, not mine."
There's soap scum and cum floating in the water, so I go, "Let's get out of the tub and into the shower stall. We need to wash each other again." We both stand up and step out of the tub splashing more water on the floor.
Shaking my head as I'm pulling the bathtub's stopper, I go, "Balls! We should probably mop up this water and wash out the tub first." Without much conversation that's what we do. It takes fifteen minutes and requires all the towels Rob and I own except the one I save to share with Pony drying ourselves with after our shower together. The floor is relatively dry when I pile up nine sopping-wet bath towels, plus the two we used earlier and left on the floor of the shower stall. I pile them all just inside the bathroom door.
Next I use Lysol Basin Tub and Tile Cleaner on the tub scrubbing with a washcloth leaving the bathtub sparkling clean. Pony watches me do that and then sarcastically asks, "Should we scour the kitchen now too, Dylan?" I'm like, "What? You think I'm overdoing it?" He shrugs, grinning, "Nah, just breaking your balls again." He's a good buddy-sex partner, meaning he really gets off on the sex, but then it's over and you move on to something else.
When he said he loved me earlier I was afraid he'd want to be affectionate after our sex, but not so. Good for him! People use the word 'love' way too much anyway. I loved that grilled cheese sandwich. I loved that song. I love that .... fill in the blank. Ya know? In the shower we shampoo each other's hair and then mostly wash ourselves using soap and our hands. The exception being we wash each other's genitals and spunky Daryl springs another boner but says it's a bit sensitive so we let it go down on its own. Rinsing off until the water becomes lukewarm, soon to be cool, I turn off the water and we use the last dry towel in the apartment to get mostly dry. In the bedroom Pony goes, "Can I borrow underpants, Dylan. After a bath and a shower, I'm clean, dude. Putting on old underwear just ain't right." I nod, "I hear ya," and toss him a pair of my jockey shorts. He goes, "Thanks. You wouldn't happen to have a clean pair of sweatpants, would ya?" I toss him sweatpants, a long-sleeve t-shirt and sweat socks." As he's getting dressed, he mutters, "I'll probably keep these clothes permanently, but after you wash my dirty clothes that I'm leaving here, I'd appreciate getting them back." I go, "Sounds like a logical assumption from your perspective, Daryl, although one that probably won't come to fruition." He chuckles, "Fruition, huh? I'm gonna look that word up and then give you a smart-ass comeback." I step into sneakers, mumbling, "I'll wait for that with bated breath." We walk out of the bedroom as he goes, "I'm looking up the word 'bated' too." I go, "Shakespeare used the phrase, with bated breath' in 'The Merchant of Venice'." Pony asks, "Is that rock group?"
I go, "Um, sort of, yeah, in its time."
Without discussing it, we both know the night is over as we put on our coats and head down to the Jeep. I drive him to the front of his dorm, then a fist bump is our 'goodbye' along with, "See ya around campus, dude." I get a wave and a smile from Pony, then I drive back to the apartment. I'm tired, but that was a fun night with my side-sex buddy. Maybe everyone needs to have a side-sex buddy; all of us. A serious lover too of course, one who you'd give your life for, and then a playful side-sex friend to relieve tension or whatever. Probably only the super-rich can pull that off though.
Their spouses put up with it in order for them to continue living an opulent lifestyle. Yeah, but that makes them whores, right? Sort of, but maybe not. I
mean if there's true love between the spouses. Oh to hell with it; it's too complex a human dilemma for my brain, plus I'm not expecting anyone I know to become super rich... so ya know...
I'm in the bathroom looking around, satisfied the place sparkles, but this big pile of wet towel might raise some questions. Hmmm, looking at my watch: it's almost eleven o'clock. Well, I never did do my laundry so I dump everything out of the hamper and put the wet towels in it to carry them to the basement laundromat. Huh, the fucking lights are off in the basement.
That's a first. After enduring a few scary minutes in the pitch-black basement, I find the light switch and them load the towels in the larger of the two washing machines. The towels overload the machine but so what? I dump in some detergent put three dollars in the machine's money slot and turn it on.
The towels aren't dirty, or hardly dirty, so this will work okay. I wait for the machine to fill with water, then listen for it to start cleaning.
It's laboring a little, but this is the heavy-duty washing machine so it'll do the job. Carrying the hamper back upstairs I put the dirty clothes I dumped-out back in the hamper and carry it back to the basement. On the way I tell myself, 'Numb-nuts, why'd you dump the clothes out and put the towels in the hamper? Why not take the hamper down and put the dirty clothes in the washing machine, then fill the hamper with the wet towels?' Who knows why we do dumb things? I get the second machine paid for and running, then it's back upstairs where I drop the hamper inside the front door and turn-on the TV. The fourth quarter of the Packers/Eagle Sunday Night Football game's just started, so I plop down on the sofa and watch that. I'm sort of watching it while thinking how odd it is that after spending these past hours with Daryl my thoughts are totally on Rob now. Buddy sex with Daryl is like lite beer compared to my sex with Rob, which I'll say is like champagne. Yeah, except that's a shitty analogy because I don't like champagne. How about this: buddy sex with Daryl is like a Volkswagen Beetle, at about $18,000, as compared to sex with Robby that for me is like a Maserati Gran Turiso Convertible, at about $147,000. And that's not disrespecting Daryl because I like VW Beetles, they're cool little cars, but if I had my choice I'll go with the Maserati convertible and have the Beetle as a back-up for when the Maserati is in for service. Yeah, but that's still a harsh comparison, and doesn't do justice to Pony. I'm too tired for metaphors anyway. Daryl's a really good buddy-sex partner, but buddy-sex can't compare with the real thing, and I'll leave it at that.
The football game ends with the Eagles winning on a Hail Mary, forty-eight-yard pass. I chuckle 'cause I've never cared for the Green Bay Packers.
Putting on a coat I go out on the balcony for a smoke. New England's weather can get really cold the last couple of day in November, so no use bitching about that, but the fucking wind tonight is uncalled for! Well, this unpleasant weather is what smokers need to put up with if we want a cigarette.
Someone told me that say twenty or twenty-five years ago when you finish your dinner at, let's say the Ritz, you could light up a cigarette to smoke with your coffee, and fuck the diners at the next table who were just served their entrees. Ha ha ha, oh man, those must have been the days with an ashtray on every table. Like the wild, wild west or something. Flicking my cigarette butt about forty feet into the night, I'm thinking, 'Damn, why can't I do that when I'm with someone?' Down to the basement I go and, yes! Both washing machines have done their job, so I haul out the wet clothes and towels putting everything in the two dryers, pay the exorbitant fee for each machine and hit the 'ON' button.
Both dryers begin turning the clothes. Good! Back upstairs in the apartment I watch a 'Breaking Bad' episode on AMC... The next thing I know I almost fall off the sofa. What the fuck? Looking at my wristwatch I'm startled to see it's five minutes of six on a fuckin' Monday morning! Oh balls.
Getting up I wash my face at the kitchen sink and head for the basement. First folding the dry towels, then folding what seems like six million pieces of clothing, I carry the big pile of towels to the apartment and, on my way back down to get the folded clothes, a neighbor is heading out to work. A middle age man with a severely receding hairline gives me a smile as he says, "Well, you college boys are up and at 'em early." I nod, mumbling, "Not really, I'm just getting in from a frat party." He laughs, muttering, "Liar,"
and he's off for a day of tedium at some desk job. Carrying the pile of folded clothing upstairs, I'm thinking, 'a tedious desk job?' Is that what Rob's got to look forward to all his life? Then going into the apartment I realize that Robby's part owner of Dickers & Son Inc. and he'll be the full owner when his dad passes on to the great unknown. That's different than a tedious desk job. He'll be the boss! I leave the pile of clothes on the sofa, too tired to put them away. As I'm undressing the bed looks so inviting. A quick stop in the bathroom for this and that, then into bed and right to sleep. This time the next thing I know is I wake-up to a cloudy day with tiny little snowflakes coming down outside the bedroom window. It's not quite December and already our first snow of the year. Balls! I don't care for snow. I feel pretty good though, and why wouldn't I? I mean, it's almost eleven-thirty. That's a good night's rest, especially if I include my sofa-sleeping time. I'm certainly clean enough, so I get dressed and do some bathroom necessities. As I'm walking out of the bathroom I hear the front door close. Rob! Another Monday morning, but this is the first one where I haven't seen Rob for five days. Telling myself not to overdo it, I walk down the hall with a welcoming smile on my face and, even if I do say so myself, I have a killer smile. Then it fades when I see Rob staring at his cellphone frowning to beat the band. "Rob, what is it? What's wrong?" He looks up at me, and mutters, "Dylan, that Frankie bitch says she's pregnant and I'm the...."
To be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumforf@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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