DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 40
by Donny Mumford
So far it's been an exceptionally fun and sexy Thursday evening. I'm appreciating John Smith a little more each time I see him and that sometimes happens with a new buddy-sex partner. And, as often happens, I'm feeling a little extra fondness for him after the haircut. I'm less critical of his appearance now too... heh heh. His amazing blue eyes, light red hair, sexy mouth, and cute grin... what's not to like? He sees himself as bisexual, but then don't they all? Like other so-called bi-guys I've met, John only feels comfortable performing the 'male' parts of sex. He only 'tops' in other words, with some spanking thrown in as a bonus. To be fair, he did suck my dick for about a minute the first time we had sex. Since then I'm the only one doing any cock sucking, and John's added deep throating to his 'male' sexual duties. None of this a problem for me of course. Oh, and I think he has a very nice penis and we're doing a kind of sub/dom sex. More so tonight than previously and it's encouraging.
Presently we're parked on Friendly's parking lot with an ice cream dessert on our minds. Getting out of the Jeep and walking to the front door, John says, "I'm paying for the dessert since you paid for the dinner." I go, "Ya know, maybe you should have been an accountant, John." He laughs, "You think I'm a bit too money conscious, huh?" I shrug, saying sarcastically, "No, not at all. Why on earth would you say that?" He laughs again, then says, "I just want to be fair, and have people be fair with me but I readily admit I talk about it too much. Do you think I'm cheap?" Shaking my head, "No, I don't. Not at all. I'm pretty much just breaking your balls again."
Inside we both order a sundae they call, Forbidden Fudge Brownie. It contains vanilla ice cream in addition to chunks of fudge-brownies with fudge sauce. Then there's whipped cream and swirls of caramel, with a cherry on top. I'm feeling a little nauseous just describing it. I can't finish mine although John has no trouble finishing his; that boy eats like a lumberjack and stays skinny as a rail. He looks at my half-eaten sundae, then at me, grinning and asking, "Do you mind if I finish that, Dylan?" I slide it over to him and he begins eating it with the& spoon I left sticking up from the glop. After watching him for a minute, I'm like, "Aren't you worried about my germs? That spoon has gone from my mouth to that melting ice cream at least twenty times." He grins that really cute-boyish grin of his, saying, "Germs? No one as good looking as you could possibly have germs." I mutter, "Everybody tells me that." He laughs. Okay, here's something else I like about John: he laughs easily, and at himself sometimes too, which I feel is a very good personality trait.
Watching him eat the rest of my sundae, I'm admiring the haircut I gave him. He senses me staring I guess because his big blue eyes come up to mine, as he asks, "What?" with a smile on his freckled face. I shake my head, like there's nothing, and he asks, "Am I making mouth sounds or something?" I go, "No, I was admiring your haircut and mentally patting myself on the back for being such an awesome barber." He laughs at that too, then runs his fingers back through his burr haircut, saying, "I think it looks great. You were right, you are a better barber than old Joe." That's one more good thing about him; he's very complimentary of moi. Deflecting the compliment, I say, "A really good haircuts starts with very good hair, and you have great hair," He frowns, "It's red!"
John scrapes the bottom of the bowl, and mutters, "Delicious," then picks up the check our waitress dropped off a few minutes ago. He looks at me, asking, "Considering we only had sundaes, what percentage would you leave for a tip?" I'm like, "For two sundaes? At the most fifteen percent. I mean, what'd she actually do?" He nods and puts two dollars on the table, mumbling, "That's more than fifteen percent, but I don't feel right leaving change." At the front register he pays for the sundaes and as we're going out the door, I say, "Thanks, John," and I give the back of his neck a squeeze. He sort of moves his head away from my hand, and I go, "Would you please explain what you have against me touching you. In case you've forgotten there is touching involved having sex together." He goes, "Oh man, it's just that I worry someone I know will see you doing it and say, 'Hey, John Smith's a queer.'" Making a face, I go, "Are you serious?" He nods, "Yeah, someone who knows me could be in Friendly's or one of these other stores." I go, "That's absurd! Do you watch sports on TV? Athletes are hugging and touching their teammates constantly." He says, "I'm aware it's illogical, Dylan, but.... Oh fuck it, go ahead and touch me." I mutter, "Now I don't feel like it."
Getting in the Jeep, he adds, "I'm paranoid about my family suspecting I'm having sex with guys, and yet there's nothing I like better than doing that and especially with you." Driving across the parking lot, I say, "Do you mind if I ask how often you have sex, besides with me, I mean." He goes, "Oh fuck, Only very rarely after my early days with Freddie Donovan. With him I did it maybe two or three times a month. Then that ended because he went
away to prep school and I went to Haverhill High School. We drifted apart. I don't even know where he is now; probably away at college somewhere."
I'm like, "Yeah, you told me about Freddie, I meant after him." He makes a face, "It's embarrassingly rare. I've only had sex like seven or eight times through my high school years until now, not counting you." I'm surprised, "After middle school you've had sex only seven times?" He's defensive, "Yeah, but I'm sure there are secret gay guys who haven't had sex even once. I do it when I can, mostly with strangers I'll never see again." Looking over at him, I go, "I wasn't dissing you, John. You're right about closeted guys our age who haven't had sex yet." We drive onto route 114 and John says wistfully, "One of the guys I fucked I'm pretty sure was under age. It was his idea though, but I still have nightmares about getting thrown in jail for having sex with a minor." I go, "Jesus, what a downer. How long ago was that?" He says, "It's been over two years now," and I mumble, "I think you can probably stop having nightmares about that one."
It's hard for me to relate to someone having sex only seven or eight times
in three years. No, that'd be six years: three years of high school and it's been three years since he graduated. Holy shit! And I thought John was smugly confident the first two times we did it. I thought he had brass balls, but maybe it was more desperation than anything else. Yeah, but he's right; his sexual experience is much closer to a normal young gay guy's sex-life than mine. John looks over at me as I stop at a red light near campus, "So now you know why I think you're pretty special. Just saying..." I look at him, nodding my head, "Jeez, John, I could probably take advantage of you, huh?" He shakes his head, "Some guys might, but you wouldn't."
Approaching the apartment complex, I ask, "So, you gonna take off for home now?" He goes, "I was sort of hoping I could do it with you again, um, now." Wow! Not wanting to seem too eager I mumble, "Sure, I guess. You do it good, but my butt cheeks are still tender from that last spanking you gave me." He goes, "I'll only spank you a little bit then, but we're establishing a routine that I hope we can keep going, um, like forever," and he laughs.
I chuckle, muttering, "Jesus, forever, huh?" Grinning, he says, "Yes, forever would be perfect for me. Every lunch time for the rest of our lives you suck my cock, then I'd deep throat you until both our dicks are really hard, then I'll fuck you until we both have massive orgasms. After that we wash-up in the men's room and bump fist and do it all over again the next weekday. On Saturdays you cook me awesome dinners after which we do everything we do during lunch, only we do it twice." I'm parking and muttering, "That's probably a little bit of an optimistic scenario, John." He chuckles, "Ya think?"
Just inside the front door of the apartment John smiles and unzips my coat, helps me out of it and then takes my shirt off. I'm just standing here looking at him and letting him do what he wants. He gets his shirt off, then unbuttons my jeans and pulls them down just below my ass. I make a 'face' at him, like, really? He grins looking over at the end table where he left my pack of condoms. "C'mon over here, Dylan." He has two fingers inside the waistband of my underpants pulling me with him. Picking up a single condom packet, he hands it to me and then pulls my underpants down. I'm feeling a pleasant buzzing in my nuts and I can't help grinning from watching him do everything in his matter-of-fact way. Down come his underpants and jeans, as he's quietly saying, "I want to fuck you with you laying over the arm of the sofa again. You were real stable there and it was awesome that your asshole hardly moved even when I was humping my cock up your ass extra hard." He chuckles, "Oh God, I just got a shiver thinking about doing that earlier." I'm feeling slightly submissively hypnotized by now and it's a damn cool sensation. John strokes his cock a few times, then reaches up and gets a fistful of my hair like he did earlier and slowly pulls my head down as I obligingly bend at the waist. He murmurs, "Oh man, I love this more than I can say."
Letting my body be very limber allows John to pulls my head down near his waist. He says, "Go ahead, Dylan, you know what to do." I drop to my knees,
then pick up his flaccid penis. He holds onto a fistful of my hair pulling
my face against his privates, humping his hips gently which squishes his dick that's still in my fingers. His red/orange pubic hairs tickle my face.
His scent is still fresh and male and somehow boyish-smelling. I hear a moan from John, then he pulls my head back a little so I can put his cock in my mouth. Sucking on it quietly for a few seconds gets my cock firming up nicely and I'm really liking this whole routine because it allows me to realistically play the submissive role in my head.
Soon my stroking and sucking and licking on his cock generates those sexy wet-mouth sounds. John pulls my hair, moaning, "Ummm, oooh, ummm." His feet
shuffle and his hips gently hump a few more times. He's getting aroused as
he moves my head so that my mouth and throat are pretty much aligned with
his boner. Thrusting his hips shoves his hard cock past the gag reflex area in my throat and then the head goes down about three inches and he leaves
it there. I feel it growing in size for ten seconds or so before he begins
thrusting it back and forth in my throat. There's some gagging from me and some moans of arousal from John, but it only goes on for maybe a minute before he pulls it all the way out of my mouth. His boner sticks straight out from his pubes, sloppy with precum and saliva. There's precum on my tongue left behind when he dragged his boner out.
With me looking up at him John stands there still holding a fistful of my hair, his eyes closed, as he moans, "Oooh that felt so fucking good."
Opening his eyes he grins at me, "You are so fucking awesome, Dylan," and he pulls my hair getting me to stand up. I'd like to maintain the slight trance I had there for a minute, but his grin and words of praise causes my trance to evaporate. My boner's throbbing though so all is not lost. John lets go of my hair and pats the arm of the sofa so I lie across the arm while he rolls on a condom. Then, right away the slippery nipple is at the end of the condom pressing against my asshole. It slides in easier than earlier and his cock is getting to feel familiar now making me shudder a little. John fucked me a couple of hours ago so my anus isn't as tight as it will be, say tomorrow morning. Feels just as good as ever though.
He pushing his cock steadily up my ass until he's leaning against my buttocks. After a few humps against me, he slaps the side of my ass twice and lets out a long sigh sounding very contended. Gripping my hips John pulls me back against his groin as tightly as he can get us, then he lets go of me and begins a steady medium-speed fucking. It's soon obvious to me we're gonna go on longer than previous times and I soon get into a dreamy world of pleasure with no hurt at all. He's not thrusting hard enough for us to hear the normal sounds of males fucking, only a subtle "Slap, slap," sound when he gets a little over-aroused. Mostly the only sounds we hear are breathing and contended sighing and quiet moans of sexual arousal. John's rubbing his hands up and down my back or leaning over massaging my shoulders and it all goes nicely along with the constant pleasure from my rectum. How to explain this more casual, almost lazy, sexual pleasure. It's not the thrilling kind but the kind that stays in a consistent middle zone and seems as though it could go on forever. Obviously it can't though because it inevitably reaches a point where the orgasm button ignites and then it starts building until all I can think about is climax! It gets me squirming on the arm of the sofa and then I can't friggin' stop moaning, "Oooh, ooh, ooh, John, ooh, ooh," and he gets to thrusting faster as his button gets pushed and it a totally different last minute of fucking; totally different from the seven or eight minutes preceding it. We're into the, "Slapslapslapslap," sounds now. When my orgasm is just about to bust-out, right at the tipping point, there's nothing I can or want to do except squeal, "Eeeeeiii," with cum spurting out of my throbbing boner, then another blast of cum. Sensations are exploding in my ass and all around my groin. No matter how slow the build-up the climax is as awesome as ever! Orgasmic explosion of sensations that last at their peak seven or eight seconds; sizzling sensations dancing around my cock as John's humping against my buttocks blowing out a long moist exhale, "Sssshhhh," that sprays my back and it rough and tumble nine or ten seconds as he's climaxing and blowing his orgasms into the condom. Oh man, again we climaxed at just about the same time.
We're both doing post-climax deep breathing with pounding hearts as John backs up until his cock drops sloppily out of my ass. He pulls off the condom, saying, "Jeeezus, that was good!" Then a chuckle, "But, dude, my dick is sore." I slide off the arm of the sofa wondering about my ass. Standing up and taking a step and there's no problem; my ass feels fine. John's cock probably isn't big enough to get me walking bowlegged. I'm shivering a little as the last buzzing of my orgasm takes a fast trip up and down my dick, then I feel relaxed and really good. Sex always makes me feel so fucking good! John's walking to my bedroom so I follow him there, then into the bathroom where he flushes the condom. For some reason I get fixated on his freckled-covered arms. They're skinny just like his legs. There's red hair, a very pale red, on his arms, not the longer curly hairs you see on some guys' arms. His are straight and short but there is quite a bit of curly pale-red-hair on his calves. Oh boy, he has hairy legs which is sort of a turn on for me. I'd like to feel them wrapped around me with his cock up my ass but we'd need to be lying down for that and he doesn't sleep with anyone.
Buckling his belt John snorts out a short laugh, saying, "Well, I'm finally all fucked-out and don't even wanna do it again tonight." Then he yells, "I'm sexually satisfied, Dylan!" Then a mumbled, "Never thought I'd ever be
able to say that." He seems as happy as I've seen him, I mean, during our limited time together. He goes, "It's all thanks to you, Dylan, so thank you, thank you, thank you!" Looking at that slim body of his I'd love to give him a hug, but instead I say, "Thanks to you too, John. You and me are into mutual pleasure, dude! I enjoy the hell out of our buddy-sex." He's washing his hands. Hands that tonight have no grease in the knuckles groves or dirt under his fingernails. His whole body has a creamy-white complexion which really highlights the orange and red hairs on his extremities and head.
I ask, "Do you mind telling me how much you weight?" He looks up, and laughs. "The things you ask! Jeez, lets me think. I guess the last time I got weighed was during a physical exam for my job at the Toyota dealership. I weighed a hundred-and-nineteen pounds and I'm five-feet, eleven-and-a-half inches tall. And yeah, I know... that's skinny." I go, "You look good to me, John."
As he dries his hands he grins, saying, "I'm awfully glad I met you, Dylan Newman." I go, "Me too," and he pats my shoulder, saying, "Yeah, well I better get going now. Work-day tomorrow for me. I'll shoot you a text when I get home from work." I mutter, "Sure," and he stops to put a hand on each of my shoulders and looks me in the eyes, saying, "Um, would you reassure me one more time that you'll be my date tomorrow night." I nod, "Yep, John, you can count on me. I'm gonna see what's-up in Worcester." He smiles and we walk through the living room. We both put our shirts on and after putting his coat on at the front door he does a one arm hug with a pat on my back.
"It's been one of my best nights ever, Dylan. I feel like I made a good friend." I nod, smiling, "You bet, John, see you tomorrow." Then he's out the door and on his way. I look out the sliding glass door and see his old Chevy drive out of sight.
Sitting on the sofa I'm staring at the sofa's arm; the one I was laying on. I'm recreating in my head the good fuck John laid on my ass. Oops, I didn't put my sweatshirt over the arm of the sofa this time. Curious, I get up and look at the material on the outside of the arm and see two spots of cum about the size of a quarter. Fuck, I thought I unloaded a stream of cum when I climaxed. Huh! It felt great even though it wasn't a lot. Getting a spray bottle of Lysol all-purpose cleaner I try wiping the spots of jism off the end of the sofa. A couple of spays of Lysol, then I'm wiping at the spots with a paper towel. That should do it. Laying on the sofa now I'm thinking it was a pretty good night all things considered. I text Robby, 'What are you doing boss?' Staring at my cell phone I see my message was delivered but I get no reply, then think... Greg Peters! Hmmm, I'll bet anything Rob is out with that neighbor from his past again tonight. Yeah, but why shouldn't he be out doing something? I did something and it was fun. I hope Rob's having fun too. Turning the TV on to Thursday Night Football, I see it's the Cowboys against the Eagles. It's the halftime report with the Eagles up 17 to 10. Do I care? Not really. I leave the TV on though as I lay here thinking about Robby and me. I miss him and I wonder if he misses me. I texted him twice without getting a reply although he did answer my call yesterday. I'm not going to get stupid about this though. The poor guy is working and probably putting in some study time for his final exam tomorrow afternoon. Mine is at ten o'clock in the morning when I'll see Ryan again. That makes me think about him and then poor Steve and that ugly scene in their dorm room. I don't want to think about that though, so I go back to thinking about why Robby hasn't texted me or called me.
Fuck it! I turn off the TV, take a shower and, wearing only boxer shorts, sit at the desk to put in an hour's review for tomorrow's final. With that shit in my head I get in bed and fall asleep.
Friday morning I'm up at eight o'clock feeling odd. Maybe it's because I woke up alone and I'm used to sleeping with Robby. I slept on his pillow last night. Opening the study guide I reread some stuff while eating a breakfast of OJ, coffee, and two bowls of Froot Loops in milk; that used to be called 'fruit loops' except there's no fruit in the sugary cereal. With a sugar high I get my coat and backpack on and drive onto the campus arriving at the site of my last final exam at nine-forty-five. Students are milling around as usual, some smoking while most of them have their notes out reviewing for the exam. I've done all the reviewing I can stand so I light a cigarette watching Ryan walk up the steps. He comes over to me, saying, "G'morning, Dylan. Ready for the exam?" I nod, "I'm over-ready actually. Um, how'd Steve's haircut turn out?" Ryan grins, "You're jealous, aren't you?" I give him a disgusted 'look' exhaling noisily, "No, Ryan, I'm not jealous. Just making small talk. Forget I asked." He says, "Look, you've got it all wrong. Steve got us high on pot. He's kind of a pot-head. I told him about you and me in Georgia and he said he wanted to try the experience he described having with you. So I was high and gave him a thrill. Couldn't you tell I was higher than a kite can fly when you were there?" I shrug, and he says, "I obliged the guy, so sue me. He loved it too!" I've got nothing to say to that. Nothing that wouldn't start a fight. I know he took advantage of Steve.
He lights a cigarette and takes a drag, then while exhaling he asks, "How many of these students, the ones in our class for the last twelve weeks, do you know?" I shrug, "A few, why?" He goes, "I don't know a single one of them and you know what? I don't want to know them." I'm shaking my head slowly, not even giving that remark the courtesy of a reply. He is fucked-up in
the head and there's no two ways about it. He goes, "Steve's visiting me in Georgia for spring break. He wants to have my specialty experience again so I'll be doing him and Jeff in my apartment. You can come too, but you'll need to just be one of my boys." What a sick fuck! I mutter, "I'm going in," and he follows me, saying, "It's Steve's idea to visit me during spring break, not mine. He nagged me." I mumble, "That's nice," and he goes, "How about you? Why don't you wanna visit me and all the Marietta guys you met last summer? Like I said though, if you do you're gonna get my specialty haircut too. And I know you want to experience it again, but you won't admit it." I glance at him and he goes, "All my boys get the haircut." I just shake my head. He's scary! Sitting in the seat I always sit in for this class I say as nicely as I can, "No, thanks, Ryan, and I'm not one of your 'boys'. I'll be working for Rob that week." He runs his fingers up the hair at the back of my head, asking, "Are you ever gonna get a haircut?" I move my head away, "Don't touch, okay? I'm not in the mood, and what's it to you when I get a haircut?" The professor says, "If I could have everyone's attention, please!"
Ryan and I don't say another word as the exams are passed out. Then for the next fifty-five minutes I concentrate on a rather easy final exam. I'm not the first one done by a long shot, and Ryan finished five minutes before me, but half the class is still working on the exam when I turn mine in and leave the building. I'm not sure if I expect Ryan to wait for me outside to say goodbye or even if I want him to be there. He's not here. Huh! I guess our last few comments to each other was goodbye enough considering he isn't the Ryan Wilcox I used to know. As I go down the steps it's odd that I find my eyes dripping a few tears. Walking across the parking lot to the pickup I have this deep sadness come over me. After starting the engine, I sit here and cry silently for maybe three minutes. Wiping my eyes with the heel of my hands, I drive away not at sure if I was crying for Ryan or for myself; probably for Ryan. Poor lost Ryan...
Back at the apartment, without allowing myself to think about anything, I run the vacuum, do a load of wash, then dust every piece of furniture in the apartment with Pledge spray wax; it leaves everything shiny and smelling nice. After putting the washed clothes in the dryer, I clean the bathroom until sweat is running down my face. Back to the basement I fold the dry clothes and then back in the apartment I put the clothes away, then sit on the edge of the bed and give myself a good talking to. Mostly telling myself to get over it, although I'm not sure what I mean by that. Just that I need to get the fuck over it! I'm in kind of a daze until Robby texts me saying he's sorry he didn't return my text last night, but he'd gone out without his cellphone. Huh... liar, liar, pants on fire because he hasn't gone anywhere without his cell phone since I've known him. He also tells me he's leaving home now and he hopes he'll see me at the apartment before his final this afternoon. It's eleven-twenty now so he'll be here around twelve-twenty at the latest.
I'm smelling the back of my hand thinking about that. If I want to be negative I could wonder, why he didn't leave earlier so we could have reunion sex before his exam. Or if I want to see the glass as half full I could think... what? What could I think the reason was he didn't leave earlier? Maybe because he was hungover from drinking all night and fucking Greg Peters, or more likely this asshole Peters kid was fucking Robby all night. Thinking that doesn't do me any good though, so I stop thinking that. Instead, I'm thinking how the back of my hand smells good, then my cell phone beeps and it's a text from Daryl. Reliable Pony. He said he'd text me after his final
exam, and here's his text: 'Why don't you ever text me, Dylan? Can you come over, Tommy's left for home?' Texting back I say: 'I was just about to text u. I'll be right over.' This is what I need! Some buddy-sex with hoodie boy. It'll get me thinking
positive thoughts again. Yeah, spend some time with upbeat and always complimentary, Daryl Ponti, aka Pony. I mean, I'm all done with finals! I should be celebrating. The ride over is uneventful and then the campus looks almost empty compared too to the normal activity during the semester. Many students have taken off for places near and far. Parking the Jeep close to Daryl's dormitory, I walk down dormitory row determined to let go of the Ryan-downer. I wasn't very nice to him but his ludicrous insinuation that I was jealous because Steve was getting that ludicrous haircut is mind-numbing.
And then Ryan telling me Steve was spending spring break in Georgia, as if I give a shit. Oh, and Jeff is going to be living with Ryan while attending that stupid university in Georgia. Ryan tells me these things as if he expects me to say, 'Oh forgive me! Let me be your boy again.' Grow the fuck up! That's what I say to all of it.
One knock on Daryl's door and he opens it with his cute smile and shiny eyes. His eyes look bigger because he's wearing his clear eyeglasses with the tortoiseshell frame. Not that he needs the glasses since his eyesight is twenty-twenty without glasses. And oh my God, I forgot about the haircut I did for him last weekend. I go, "Jeezus, Pony, you look awfully cute with those eyeglasses and your new haircut." He goes, "Yeah, I know. C'mon in.
You look awfully good yourself although you need a haircut." He closes the door behind me, saying, "I'll do a haircut for you." I'm like, "Hmmm, I seem to recall you didn't do a real good job cutting your roommates hair." He laughs, "Yeah, I almost pissed my pants laughing at that." I go, "So, when you
heading home?" He picks up a paper from his computer, reading from it, he says, "Um, oh here it is. I'm on flight 452 leaving Logan at four-thirty and arriving at Philadelphia International Airport at six-forty." I ask, "Do you need a ride to the airport?" He shakes his head, "I'm getting an early ride to Logan with Gene Mullins around two o'clock I think. I'll need to kill some time at the airport, but I'd rather be there early. How about you?" I flop oh his unmade bed, saying, "I'm not going home until tomorrow.
Driving home with my brother, um, sometime early afternoon probably."
I ask, "How'd you do with your final exams?" Pony flops on the bed next to me and almost falls off because it's only a twin bed. I grab him and he ends up partially on top of me looking down at me. He goes, "I didn't ace any of them, but I'm not worried about flunking any of them either. I did okay I guess." I mumble, "Don't settle for being an average student, Pony. Rob and I have a GPA over 3.0." He mutters, "Brown noser," then, "Hey, I bought a Christmas present for you, Dylan. Did you get me anything?" I chuckle, "Um, no. I wasn't aware we were exchanging gifts. How 'bout I give you a twenty-dollar bill?" He laughs and messes my hair. Damn, he's a cute guy! When he sees I'm not responding to him messing-up my hair, he goes, "Keep your twenty bucks and buy me something for when we're back here in January." I go, "Sure," and he leans over the side of the bed fishing around under it with his hand and comes up with a slim box about a foot long and four inches wide. It's wrapped in holiday paper with little white reindeer all over the red paper and a red stick-on bow in the center of the box. He gives it to me, saying, "Merry Christmas," and I say, "Handkerchiefs?" He goes, "How'd you guess? Yeah, they're handkerchiefs. You're the only person I know who carries a handkerchief in your back pocket at all times so I thought it'd be the perfect gift." I ask, "Do they have my initial on the corner of each handkerchief?" He chuckles and says, "Of course."
Grinning, I rip off the paper and open the lid to look at my present. I go, "You left the price tag on," and he says, "Well yeah, that's so you'd know I didn't buy you cheap ones." I say, "Thank you, Pony, but the sales tag is for pajamas, $39.99, not handkerchiefs." He goes, "Dammit, I didn't think you'd look that closely. Yeah, I took the price tag off a pair of pajamas." I go, "Well then, how much did you pay for the handkerchiefs? I mean, I need to know how much to spend on your present." He laughs out loud, then says, "$9.99 on sale at Macy's." I say, "Everything's on sale at Macy's,"
and he goes, "Yeah, that's why I went there." I'm nodding my head grinning because Pony's a lot of fun.
Putting the gift on the desk chair that's two feet from the bed, I ask, "Shall we have some buddy sex?" Laying right next to me on the bed, up on his elbow looking down on me, Pony leans his head down and gives me a ten-second wet kiss on the lips. Then lifts his head and stares in my eyes. I say, "We're not lovers, ya know." Pony shrugs, "Not yet we're not, but I'm making that my project for the second semester. Tell me something that sort of annoys you about your current boyfriend." I ask, "Why?" and he goes, "So I'll know not to do that, whatever it is." I laugh and reach up rubbing his head and mussing his hair in retaliation. He gets off the bed, "Hey! Dammit, don't do that. I look fucking cute with this haircut," and he combs it back in place.
Getting off the bed I give him a hug from behind, murmuring, "Thanks for my Christmas present, Pony." His body gets loose as he lies back against me and I say in his ear, "Let's get naked." He's like, "Okay," and drops his jeans without moving away from me. I go, "If I step back you're gonna fall on your ass." He pulls down his jockey shorts, muttering, "Well don't step back then." I didn't used to think he had a personal scent, but he does. I noticed it six or seven weeks ago and I like it so I give his neck a kiss and inhale a little bit of Daryl's scent. He goes, "That was nice, but I need a spanking more than a kiss," and he leans away from me with his hands on the desk and his bare ass sticking up as he looks back at me.
It makes me thing of John Smith spanking my ass and how that gives John a boner. Spanking Pony doesn't give me a boner but it gives him one. He says, "And don't stop when I tell you to. Keep right on spanking my ass." I'm still fully dressed as I push his shirt up on his back a little, then give his ass a swipe. His ass is a really good one. Two pink plump hairless mounds
that look as though you could squeeze them but his butt cheeks are taut, very tight. I ask, "Do you have that paddle around?" He goes, "No! Not the paddle, use your hand." Standing right next to Pony I whack on his ass with the palm of my hand. "Smacksmacksmack," for about a minute before his hand comes back trying to block my spanking-hand. He goes, "Ow, ow,ow! That's enough," but I grin and give him a few more smacks. Out of the side of my left eye there's motion. Turning my head, I see he's jerking off like mad. His back arches and he goes, "Ahhhh, mmm!" and I hear his stream of cum splatter against the front of the desk.
Moving away from him, I ask, "What the fuck was that?" He straightens up, still pulling on his boner. Red in the face, he does an embarrassed snort of a laugh, mumbling, "I could help it. You spank good." A milky white cum bubble is at his piss slit for a second, but with the next stroke down of his fist it disappears. Smeared on his hand I assume. I'm shaking my head chuckling at the expression on his face. My chuckling makes him laugh, then he
asks, "Why the fuck when I'm with you do I feel like I'm fifteen again? You make me say and do dumb-ass things... fuck!" I go, "It's because I'm so mature; that's why you feel fifteen." He goes, "Riiiiight!" Then he stretches out his now limp dick making it longer than it is, asking, "Would a twenty-year-old guy do this." I mutter, "Apparently," and he snickers, then says, "Now you'll need to hang-out with me until my balls churn up some more spunk for you to fuck out of me." I'd really like to suck that dick of his, but instead I'm like, "Pull up your pants, Pony."
He pulls his underwear up, then his jeans as he points to the streak of cum-wetness on the drawers of his desk, saying, "I'm letting that dry as a memento of the first time I climaxed while being spanked as I was jacking-off." Jesus! I chuckle, "You're nuts, Pony." He holds out his hand, "Ya wanna taste of my cum?" There wetness around his thumb and forefinger. I just give him a 'look' and he goes, "No, huh?" and wipes his hand on a tissue.
Glancing at my wristwatch: it's ten-of-twelve. I expect to see Robby between twelve and twelve-thirty so I gotta get going. I give Daryl a hug, saying, "I'm really sorry, Pony, but I need to go. We'll talk over the break and maybe you can visit me. You live in Norristown, Pennsylvania, right?" He nods his head and I say, "Well, that's about a six-hour-drive to Framingham." He hugs back, "Don't go! We still need to have buddy-sex." I say, "Rob's coming back any minute now. He's been working at home most of the last few days. I want to be there when he walks in the door." He nods, mumbling, "Yeah, okay. I should have texted you earlier so we'd have more time together. And I'm seriously taking you up on visiting during break." I give him a good kiss on the lips, and say. "Yeah, let's get together. Maybe meet half-way and sleep over in some hotel or something." He nods, "Awesome. I'll nag you to keep your promise." I go, "For chrissakes, you won't need to nag me," then I'm like, "Where's my present?" He hands it to me off the desk chair, saying, "Lucky I didn't spunk all over these hankies." Chuckling, I take my 'hankies', pat his shoulder giving him a smile, then I'm out the door a little surprised he didn't make a bigger fuss about me leaving. I think he was really embarrassed about jerking off and he's probably got packing to do, plus grab lunch in the dining hall and... whatever else between now and two o'clock.
Parking the Jeep at our apartment's lot I see Rob's pickup. Damn! He got here quicker than I expected. I jog to the back door and key in the code; then, going up the back stairs I get this funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. No, it's lower, closer to my nuts. I'm excited and nervous at the same time. Nothing wrong with being excited to see him, but why the nervousness? Recently I get all gooey with love and admiration for Rob. He's so, um, so something special. I can't describe it. I guess it's love, plain and simple although it feels like more.
I have my key out before I reach the door but I don't need it because Robby opens the door, murmuring, "Dylan, where ya been?" We're in each other arms just hugging as we step inside and let the door close and lock on its own behind us. He smells like my Robby alright, but the quick glance I had of him was wrong somehow. We kiss hungrily and my hand goes up the back of his head and... what? Startled I pull my head back to look at him and Robby blushes, like he often does. Shaking his head like he wishes it weren't true, he says, "It was a complete fuck-up, Dylan." He has this really short haircut that looks terrible. I'm like, "What the...?" He rubs his fingers through his short hair saying, "I was almost home Wednesday afternoon when I saw a barber poll driving down Main Street in Framingham and I thought...
haircut! My dad would be very disappointed if I went to work looking like I did. Hell, when we worked that week about a month ago he gave subtle hints I needed to get a haircut back then!"
We let go of each other with me muttering, "I would have loved giving you a haircut before you left." He grimaces, saying, "Oh fuck! I know and I wish to hell I'd have thought about it. Why didn't you say something? You know how my dad is about," and he bends the middle and index fingers of both hands making 'air quotes' saying, "professional appearance." I'm still like frowning at his hair, mumbling, "But why...?" and Rob goes. "It's all fucked up. I stopped at that barbershop, one I've never been in before, and the barber was this old Hispanic guy who didn't speak much English. There was a communication-gap and he's using these big clippers as all this hair is rolling down the cape. I was pissed, but what's the use of saying anything after he's already started. Plus, I don't think he speaks much English. It was ten minutes of clippers buzzing and my hair falling and then he just stopped, took off the cape and said something in Spanish." I'm nodding my head, then shrugging, I go, "Yeah, you got butchered alright. Makes Golden's hideous assembly-line haircuts look good."
Neither of us knows what to say next; what can you say? Rob runs his hand up the back of his head and over the top. His haircut is hard to describe other than it looks like an inexperienced home-haircut a mother might give her five-year-old son. It's very short, but when the barber changed guides for the clippers from say the quarter inch guide on the side to the half inch guide there's a ridge all around Rob's head showing the difference between a quarter inch and a half inch. The crown of his head is all one-third-inch-short bristles then abruptly the hair next to it is an inch-and-a half long then abruptly again the bangs are about three inches long. None of the different lengths of hair should be on the same head. It's comical actually. No professional barber would cut hair like that.
Rob looks so embarrassed I try not to, but burst out with a laugh, then say, "No, I'm sorry, but I mean... Jesus!" He goes, "Please don't laugh, Dylan. I had to go straight to work where I needed to tell the story of the Spanish-speaking barber to about twenty people; same story twenty times. And I don't think they believed me at first. My father was gruff with me telling me he didn't find it funny at all. As if I got this fucked-up haircut on purpose... like it was my fault. " His father can be such an asshole to Robby. Incredulously, I ask, "What'd the people at work say?" He goes, "When I convinced them of what happened most of them felt sorry for me. Then when I got home my mom initially thought you did it." I go, "What? Me? She's seen the haircuts I've been giving you for three years! What'd she think, I lost my mind all of a sudden?" He rubs my shoulder, "Don't be mad, Dylan. I told them what happened. Um, can you do something with my hair?"
His dumb-ass parents are starting to creep me out! I know they aren't going to like it when Rob tells them we're getting married but tough shit folks! In-laws blow anyway. Nodding my head, I go, "Yeah, of course I can at least improve on it, Rob." And that's the first thing we do... fix Robby's haircut. Damn, I would have loved cutting all that hair off his head. It was four-to-five-inches long on top like mine. After I've evened-out the different lengths, I cut the bangs way down to match the other hairs on top of his head. Nothing I can do about the bristly short hairs at the crown. They stick up way too short to lie over. Ironically when I finish Rob's haircut it's very much like the last haircut I gave Pony. Comb the hair forward on top and flip up the bangs. Pony calls it the middle-school-haircut and mostly it is a haircut for young guys. I've seen men in their thirties on TV with it though.
Like I said, there's nothing I can do about the hairs sticking up at the back of the top so in that regard Pony's haircut is better than Rob's.
Still, everything considered Robby's hair looks okay and a hundred times better than it did when he walked in here. Finished, I say, "Jesus, Robby, you look good enough to eat." He looks in the mirror over the sofa grinning, saying, "A trip down memory lane with this style haircut, huh?" Hugging him, I go, "Yep, but I like you with short hair anyway." Mostly I'm just trying to make him feel better. With my arms around Robby we're looking at our reflection in the mirror. I remember we did this before he left when we both had a mop of hair on our heads and now my mop looks even bigger compared to Robby's short hair. He's clean shaven again but he still looks handsomely cute and sexy to me.
Robby murmurs, "Thank you, baby," and hugs me back and we just naturally get into a lover's make-out. Slow deep luscious candy-kisses that are so sweet. I like running my fingers up the back of his head feeling his bristly short hair. It's been some time since his hair was this short. The very short hairs at the crown of his head that stick-up feel odd and look odder. Our
lover's make-out goes on dreamily for a while but all of our make-outs have a way of turning into hot passionate kisses when sexual arousal and desire raise the sexual heat between us. Our penises get harder and harder until
Rob gasps, "I need you so badly, Dylan," and he pulls at my pants. I push his hands away and have my pants down in three seconds. My boner bounces when we bump together in my haste to turn my back to Rob. He's got his jeans unbuttoned and the zipper down with his boner sticking out through the opening in his boxer shorts. The head's wet with precum and then I watch a new bubble of precum appear. Rob presses the head of his cock against my asshole smearing the precum. My head is looking straight ahead now as I'm waiting for the thrill of having his cock up my ass.
Another gasp of desire from Robby and, "Aaaah!" when his fat boner pushes past my sphincter muscle with precum partially smoothing the way. Oh, his fat cock feels so familiar it makes my shoulders shudder. This is the cock my body responds to best. There's some pain around my stretched anus but it's no problem at all because I know from past sex with Rob how temporary the pain of initial entry is. I can predict within five seconds when the pain will morph into glowing sexual pleasure as the abundant nerve endings there begin singing their sexual pleasure-song making me moan at the indescribable pleasure sensations. Robby's arms are around the front of my stomach just below my belly button and his hot moist breath is coming out in short bursts dampening the back of my neck. He kisses the side of my neck then his tongue goes all over my ear lifting my earring before the tip of his tongue goes into my ear. His scent and the familiar feel of his strong arms gives me goosebumps and shivers down my back. Tears in my eyes because I'm so in love with him and we're together again.
Robby goes, "Ummm," and thrusts more of his boner up my ass with new pain screaming for a few seconds as the fat head spread the walls of my rectum.
Another thrust and his crotch is tight against my ass as he humps hard against me while squeezing me with his arms and murmuring in my ear, "I love you so much, baby," and another hard hump against my butt cheeks. A deep inhale from Rob as he pulls his cock back and then drives it all the way back in making a whining sound before beginning a fast rabbit fuck, and we hear, "Slapslapslapslap," sounds for two or three minutes with me going, "Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, Rob, Rob, Rob, Ooooh," and then, "Eeeeeiii," with cum shooting up from my quivering cock. It flies in an arc to land four feet away.
Gasping and humping my hips sends three more spurts of cum out and I'm dizzy with the spectacular fireworks going off behind my eyes as Robby's bending me forward and leans against my back while humping my buttocks and shooting a long string of creamy cum up my ass, then again as he's making gasping breathy sounds. A last hard hump against me lifts me up on my toes and then we both sigh and our bodies go limp.
Rob hugs me so tightly I can't breathe for a few seconds, then he lets go and backs up pulling his softening cock from my ass making a wet, "Splip,"
sound. Lots of his cum runs out of my ass and down the inside of my left thigh. Robby's two feet away bent over with his hands on his knees taking a few deep breaths, then he murmurs, "Having sex with you, Dylan, makes any other sex I've ever had in my life pale by comparison. Side-sex is like watching previews at the movies while waiting for the main attraction to happen and, Dylan baby, you're my main attraction and nothing else even comes close." I murmur, "Ditto, Rob," and he gives me his awesome grin, repeating, "Ditto."
We go into the bathroom to clean-up a little with Rob doing most of the cleaning-up on my ass and the back of my legs. We're both chipper and chatty now, happy to be back where we want to be... together. As he's drying my now clean ass with a hand towel, he says, "You're so special, Dylan. I was worried you'd be royally pissed-off at me for my haircut disaster knowing how you like cutting my hair and all. Plus the fucking-up I've been doing insisting Golden be our barber and all those screw-ups. Instead of being pissed-off though you couldn't keep from blurting out a laugh." I say, "I was more shocked than anything, Rob, and then I felt bad for you imagining how you must have felt going to work like that." He mutters, "Humiliation just doesn't cover all my emotions that first afternoon."
Walking back to the living room, he goes, "I was so upset and embarrassed I tried blaming it on you at first because you're in-charge of haircutting,
but I had to admit to myself that it's all my fault, not yours." I go, "Yeah, because you took charge of our haircuts by insisting we get Golden's stupid ones, and now you see where that got you." He smirks, "I hope you're not gloating about it, but I do see your point. It got me in a Spanish barbershop with a barber who must have a hair up his ass about us Gringos." I laugh, then get serious, "Jesus, do you think he did it on purpose?" Rob shrugs, "Yes, the more I thought about it that's the only conclusion I could come to. There was a lot of Spanish being spoken with many grins from the other barber during my haircut, so yeah he intentionally fucked me up. He didn't even seem to know how the guides went on the clippers" He's right that no barber would do a haircut like that one. I go, "Holy shit, that's terrible!" He nods, "It was, but what was I going to do about it? Throw a brick through the plate-glass window?" I say, "Yeah, you should have." He says, "Nah, I have this thing about not making a bad situation worse." Huh, Chubby and I don't have that 'thing' Robby's got. If we can't get justice, we settle for revenge. I say, "Now that I think about it, I'll bet he wasn't even the barber. He was probably the barber's friend there in the barbershop shooting the shit, and when you walked in he said in Spanish, something like, "Let me pretend to be the barber," or some such shit. What incredible assholes!" Rob nods his head, "You know, I think you're right because the first guy started to get up, probably the real barber, but the other guy put up his hands and spoke in Spanish. They had this smirk on their old faces too."
Holy shit, what pricks! Picking up the comb, I re-do Rob's hair, saying, "When you see your parents this afternoon don't forget to mention to them that this is the professional way I cut your hair. I cannot believe they thought I'd give you a haircut like you went home with." He says, "They don't know a thing about haircutting, babe. All they care about is if it's neat or not. Christ, my father's had that same boring short-regular haircut all my life." To change the subject, I ask, "Did you get to review for your final?" He shrugs, "A little, but I already know this stuff." Nodding, I'm like, "Um, what about this Greg Peters character?" Rob smiles, "He's not a character. He's a good guy. Jeez, we had a little something going on between us way back as teenagers. It was a couple of years before I was ogling you in high school." Yeah, sometimes I forget that Robby's been actively gay, starting with Dodger, way longer than me.
He's checking his backpack as I go, "Um, did you have a good time with, um, what's-his-name, Greg?" Rob goes, "Huh?" then he lifts my wrist, looks at my watch and says, "Holy shit! I gotta go... my exam's in ten minutes,"
and he kisses me, adding, "I'm sorry to say I need to leave for home right after the exam, but Saturday night, tomorrow night, we have a date, okay?" I nod, and he says, "I'm taking you out to dinner and then can I spend the night at your place?" I go, "Absolutely, Rob," and he says, "Thanks, Dylan.
And we need to talk about you working for me next week, then if you insist I'll answer any questions you have about Greg, although you and I are not supposed to talk about that stuff. I'll call you Saturday." I'm nodding my head, mumbling "Sure." Robby puts on his coat and hangs his backpack over one shoulder, saying, "I love you so much." Another quick kiss and he's on his way. Huh, he told me all I need to know about Greg Peters by saying we don't talk about that stuff.
I'm lying on the sofa again thinking about Rob, naturally. Wow, what a fucked-up experience he had at that barbershop. Dammit though, I would have loved having all Robby's hair to cut, but instead that asshole non-barber got to cut most of it off Rob's head. Then there's Rob and that Greg kid. I wonder what the guy looks like? I also wonder how many Greg Peters there are in Rob's past, not that I haven't had a couple of dozen or so in my past.
Yeah, heh heh, and I've had three or four less years than Robby to accumulate guys from my past. Rob started early as a teen and it's odd I never picked-up a gay vibe from the shy Rob Dickers I was smitten with in my junior year at Framingham High. Jeez, to be able to go back and be seventeen again and know what I know now! Pipe-dreams anyone? Now I'm back to reading my John Sanford mystery book as I'm lying on the sofa. Then the next thing I know I wake-up a couple hours later with the book on the floor. Oh great I fell asleep. Actually I'm happy about that because who knows how late the party will go tonight. This two-hour nap might turn out to be a huge benefit. Picking up the book and rifling through the pages I'm trying to remember the last page I read; then, giving up on that I take a shower. After the shower I'm combing through my long hair trying to decide how it looks best. The way it's grown out the last eight or nine weeks looks strange because the sides were originally cut to a half-inch by Golden, but the top hasn't been cut since my last haircut with Ryan. Yeah, Ryan. I wasn't too nice to him this morning so, forgetting about my hair, I get my cellphone out and text Ryan, 'Sorry I was so bitchy today, Ryan.
Let's be friends again.' I don't expect a reply, but I feel a lot better leaving that text on a positive note. Then he does text back: No I don't forgive you. You had your chance with me and you blew it. Do not text me again!' What an asshole!! Good riddance! That puts me in a bad mood. He definitely doesn't need to worry about me texting him again. Dammit! Why couldn't we part as friends after everything we've been through together. My fucking feelings are really hurt. What'd I ever do to deserve that email from him? I'm really pissed at that. Then I hear the 'bing' of another text. I grab my cellphone hoping it's from Ryan with an apology. No though, it's from John Smith: 'I just got home. I'll be at your place around six.' Oh, yeah, that's right... Worcester. I text him back that I'll see him then.
Huh, guess I should pack something, but what? Calling John, I ask what kinda clothes I should bring and he tells me it's sport jacket and tie for the party. Balls! Well I just happen to have a new sports jacket from working for Robby. Looking closely at my blue sports coat and tan khakis hanging in
the bedroom closet, I decide to try ironing then a little. By the time I do that, then put some other casual clothes in my satchel it's after six o'clock. I'm back to fucking with my hair finally settling on hair gel and combing it with a part and the sides combed back. I'm not sure what I look like with this hairdo but I don't know what else to do with it.
The buzzer buzzes at twenty-after-six. I buzz John in and figure I'm ready to go although I'm positive I'm forgetting something. Looking at myself in the mirror again I don't feel like me; not with the way I combed my hair.
There's a knock at the door so I go over an open it. John's all smiles and looking preppy with his burr haircut. His awesome blue eyes stare into mine, as he asks, "Ready to go?" I nod, "Yeah, but c'mon in for a second." The door closes behind him, as I ask, "How do I look?" He says, "Beautiful, cute, handsome; all of the above." I go, "Thank you, John, but I meant my hair." He shrugs, "Nice, it's nice." I'm like, "Really?" and he says, "Well actually your hairdo doesn't go with you somehow. But it's nice hair and I already told you I'd change hair with you in a second if it were possible."
He's right, my hair doesn't go with me, but why doesn't it. I think it's because I'm used to short hair although John's only seen me with this long wavy hair and he doesn't think it's right for me. I'm still looking in the mirror pushing at the small pompadour in front, so John goes, "I'm sort of all talked-out, hair-wise, Dylan. That might be the most I've ever had to say about anyone's hair." I go, "Yeah, okay. What do you think of my sports coat and tan khakis?" He chuckles, "I think we'll be dressed alike at the party. That's exactly the outfit I brought with me right down to the brass buttons on your sports coat." I'm like, "Well it's the only one I got so let's go, twin. Born on the same day, so no wonder we dress alike."
John carries my satchel while I've got my sports coat, white dress shirt, tie, and pants on a hanger. At the parking lot he hands me my satchel, asking, "Where are you parked? I'll get my stuff and meet you there." I point at the Jeep and then go over and put my stuff in the backseat and fire up the engine. It's an hour and ten-minute drive to Worcester mostly at high speed on route 495 until we connect with route 290 that takes into the city.
John's not much for starting conversations so mostly I ask questions and he answers. He tells me he lives at home because he doesn't make enough money to get his own place but he's saving up to do that. He pays his mom $75.00 a week for room and board, he attends St. Augustine church every Sunday, he's never been on a date with a girl, and I'm his first date with a guy. He has two brothers and a sister who all get along just fine. He's full of compliments for me and really seems like a sweet guy the longer I get to know him.
I asked about that guy, Chester, who John didn't want me to meet at the bar. He explains it's his boss, Chester Mulroney. Some weird shit happened with him. For one thing they unknowingly were both at the town's Fourth of July celebration last year and after the fireworks in a bizarre coincidence Chester just happened to be walking by John's car with his fiancé when he saw John fucking this guy in the back seat of John's car. Hugely embarrassing but the next day at work Chester had a heart to heart talk with John saying it was no big deal. A person's sexuality is his own business and he let it go at that. Then an even more bizarre coincidence when both guys were at the reservoir necking and fucking without knowing the other was there.
Chester was out smoking a cigarette after probably having sex with his girlfriend when he again spots John fucking a guy in his old Chevy. It was the same guy John fucked after the fireworks although Chester didn't know that.
Next day at work Chester doesn't even bring it up. John says, "That's why I told you Chester would probably think I'm fucking you if you came over to me in the bar that first time we met for lunch. He caught me fucking twice, five months apart, and those two times were the only sex I had in those five months. Chester probably thinks I'm the gay stud in the neighborhood because every time he sees me outside of work I'm fucking some guy." I go, "That is bizarre."
John confirms that his last success with gays in the bar prior to me was three months ago and it was with a thirty-something guy who more or less came on to John. That's three of the seven successful sex episodes he's had since the tenth grade. There was a guy at mechanic school who John had some drinks with at the guy's apartment and after a while they admitted to each other they wouldn't mind screwing, and they had sex with John 'topping', but just that one time. Two years later they ran into each other and did it in the guy's delivery truck. He dropped out of mechanic's school and was a driver for UPS. The last guy John had sex with was an older stranger at a gay bar in Boston who John fucked in the bar's lavatory. He goes, "So I haven't been lucky at all, not until I met you. How about your experiences, Dylan?" That's the first question he asked me and I tell him an abbreviated versions of fat Carl, then a little about Willie, and finally me and Rob.
No point in making him feel bad by mentioning how lucky I've been with side-sex. Even without knowing about my random side-sex John says, from the limited amount I told him about that I've been very lucky and I heartily agree with him. The second, and last question from him was, "Um, not that it's any of my business, but you're in love with this guy, Rob, yet you have sex with me and even go away overnight with me." I explain about our partially open relationship and admit that for ninety-ninety couples out of a hundred it wouldn't work, except it's worked for us these past three-plus years, blah, blah, blah.... And by now we're at the hotel's parking garage, At the registration desk they can't find John's reservation but then realize it was entered in the computer using 'John' as the last name. It's seven-thirty when we're going into our room and immediately John says, "Goddammit! I specifically asked for a room with two double beds." I shrug, kinda happy at the queen-size bed mix-up, but say, "Call the desk and ask for a room change." He shrugs, then he's hemming and hawing until he admits, "I freeze-up at confrontation like that, Dylan." I go, "Hell, I'll call," and I do pretending to be John Smith. I haggle with two people and raising my voice as I get more and more pissed-off at the fact they will not correct a mistake they made. Finally, an assistant manager apologizes, but he can't do anything about the mix-up because the hotel is fully booked. What he'll do though, "And I'm doing it right now, Mr. Smith, is discounting your room charge by fifty percent." I go, Thank you," and hang-up.
I tell John, "That's the best we can do as far as the room goes." He shrugs and mumbles, "Hey, you saved me like a hundred bucks!" I nod, "Good!" and in a resigned tone of voice, he mutters, "Guess I'm forced to find out what it's like sleeping with someone for the first time in my life." I go, "Jeez, don't worrying about hurting my feelings or anything, John. I'll make sure to shower and use mouthwash." He goes, "No, I'm sorry. I've never slept with anyone before that's all I'm saying. I'm glad it's you, Dylan." I don't have anything to say to that, so John goes, "How about we get naked and I fuck you?" I'm like, "Sure, that'd be good."
We get undressed; then, looking at each other, he says, "I'm glad to sleep with you, really." I say, "Okay." Both of us are completely naked just standing here looking at each other until John reaches over with both hands and rubs across my shoulders then down the outside of my arms, murmuring, "You've got an awesome body! I wish I had your body, and your penis." I go, "You have a great penis," and he says, "I wish it was four or five inches longer," and he looks at me with those amazing multi-shades-of-blue eyes, grinning, "And I'll bet you do too." I chuckle, "Your boner is perfect for my rectum."
Our eyes meet for a few seconds more, then he says, "Stay on your feet, but turn around facing the bed and lie your head and chest on the bed. Go on,
do that." I do it and he says, "Your ass is too high," and he spreads my legs, "There, perfect height. Now push your ass out a little towards me." I do that and he says, "Good, hold it there." He stands at my side facing away from the bed and starts spanking me hard. I scrunch up my face and bare it. I don't usually get aroused by being spanked like Pony does, but I do feel my dick firming up. It's a long minute of being spanked, "Smack, smack, smack, smack," until I'm like, "OW! That's enough, John. "Smack smack!"
"OW! Goddammit!" He says, "Just a couple more. I wanna get both butt cheeks bright pink." I'm grunting through those last few smacks then he stops and faces the bed, muttering, "Nice, really nice," and he reaches between my spread legs and wraps his fist around my firmed-up cock, saying, "You were complaining, but you've got a fairly hard cock so what am I to think?" He laughs lightly, mumbling, "We both got hard cocks," and he rubs the head of his across my smacked ass, then spanks me for another fifteen seconds saying, "This is for lying. You got aroused the same as me, "Smack, smack, smack,"
"John, that really stings, please." He has his hand around both my wrist holding them away when I reached back to block his smacks. "Smack, slack,"
and he laughs, saying, "I'm gonna cum if I keep spanking your ass," and he lets go of my wrists.
I'm rubbing my ass thinking how I did get turned-on the way he did that.
This is encouraging and the stinging is already fading. Even though I complained about it I did feel some sense of submissiveness towards John which is what gave me the semi-boner. That submissive sense fades away when he sits on the bed next to me with a hand rubbing my back, asking, "Did I spank you too hard? I mean, if I overdo it a little I hope you'll let it slide."
He leans down close to my face and says, "Okay?" and for the hell of it, I ask, "How many fucking freckles do you have on your face anyway?" He laughs out loud, then says, "You prick! I'm self-conscious about my freckles." I'm grinning, "That was terrible of me, John. Anyway I like your freckles and I especially liked doing that haircut for you yesterday." He nods, "You're okay, Dylan. Now tell me though: are we on the same page with the spanking?" I go, "You decide on the spanking. You're the dom." He goes, "Dom? Oh, you're talking about submissive/dominant sex, huh?" I nod, and he goes, "That's not what we're doing; you and me. I'm the 'top' and you're the 'bottom' because we both prefer those positions. We're sharing sexual pleasure that you call buddy-sex, and I like that term. I gotta say I've never enjoyed doing it even half as much as I enjoy it with you. There, so now you know how I feel about it. Oh, and I spank you because we both like it. It adds to our arousal, right?" I go, "If you say so."
He gets off the bed and grabs a condom, saying, "You bought the last three condoms so we'll use mine now, but you buy the condoms next week." I mumble, "You really should have been an accountant." He chuckles, then mutters, "You already told me that." I ask, "Should I stay like this or was this position just for the spanking part?" He shakes his head, "No, I'm gonna fuck you just like you are now." He rolls a condom on his fairly hard cock and comes over, his firm cock listing to the side and smacks my ass, "SMACK!"
Damn, I got that tiny submissive sense back with that one smack. He gets a hand on each of my hips pulling my ass out, saying, "Keep your ass the way it was for your spanking." I push it out as much as I can, and he murmurs, "Yeah, like that. Good." The nipple at the end of the condom rubs up my ass crack as John guides the head to my asshole. He humps it in grunting, "Ummm,
fuck that feels good," and he drags his hands down my back and grips my butt cheeks, asking, "Not to get too personal, but do you think your boyfriend is having enough sex with you?" I go, "We do it a lot," and he says, "I only ask because your sphincter is so fucking tight. Maybe I'm wrong about you being a bottom all the time. Are you mostly a 'top' with your boyfriend?" I go, "Nope, you were right the first time. I like to 'bottom' and Rob mostly accommodates me, although I do 'top' occasionally with him."
John mumbles, "Well you're really tight back here and it feels fantastic,"
then he pushes his boner slowly up my ass. My cock was getting on the limp side but firms up again quickly. When his pubic hair begins tickling my buttock John does a last hard hump and he's tight against my ass doing some grinding, then, "Smack!" on the side of my ass again. Well, I did tell him he's in charge of the spanking. There's no more talking now that we're both feeling sexual arousal as that deserves our undivided attention. He does four or five deliberate steady full thrusts with that extra hump at the end.
He fully impaling me and then does an extra hard hump. That finally extra hard hump jerks my rectum up and gives me the sense he's a dominant fucker.
Of course he claims otherwise. Another "Smack!" on the side of my ass and he goes into a full minute of fast hard fucking, "Slapslapslapslap," and I'm groveling on the bed moaning, "Ooh, ooh, oooh, ummm." John goes, "Oh God this feels good," "Slapslapslap," then he stops. While breathing hard he does those deliberate thrusts with one last extra hard hump. Six or seven of those with my prostate screaming out sexual pleasure and my stretched anus sending out sizzling pleasure vibrations. I'm moving my head and moaning because John fucks me really good.
He stops and lets out a lot of air with a big exhale, then reaches between my legs and grabs my rock-hard cock and strokes it as he begins steady thrusting hard enough that I'm going up on my toes with each deliberate thrust. I'm moaning at each thrust, "Aaaah, aaah, aah, John... I'm gonna cum, ooooh," and then, Eeeeeiiii," as he strokes and fucks a hard stream of cum from my nuts. It comes flying out the gaping piss slit with force burning a little, then again and I'm up on my toes as scintillating sensations spike all around my groin with my entire rectum full of dazzling sensations of pure pleasure that crescendos at about the five second mark and then fades as my stiff-as-a-board body quickly becomes limp and I shudder all over sighing with contentment. John lets go of my cock, lying against my buttocks grunting and humping and I assume filling the condom with his youthful spunk, then another grunt and another hump as he finishes off his orgasm.
We're both breathing deeply for thirty-seconds or so, his cock still up my ass. Then he gasps, pushing himself up with both hands on my back and fucks my ass really hard for another minute before pulling out leaving me with that feeling of a gaping-open rectum. He turns around and flops on the bed landing on his back a foot away from me. I dropped to my knees when he pulled his cock out, my chest and head still on the bed. John's feet are on the floor as he lies on his back. We turn our heads to look at each other.
He says, "That was a spectacular climax I just had. I was seriously afraid it broke the condom." I go, "Doesn't matter if it did. I wish you would fuck me bareback." I reach over and put my hand on his head, saying, "Hey sailor, I like your haircut." He grins, "Funny you should say that. I almost joined the Navy out of high school. Did I tell you that before?" I shake my head, "Nope, but you'd make a cute sailor." He goes, "I'm not cute, and you know it." I raise my eyebrows and try matching his matter-of-fact way of saying things, mumbling, "You're starting to look cute to me, John."
Surprised he doesn't move his head away when I touch his hair a minute ago, I do it again. My fingers are feeling the short bristly hairs on the side of his head as he says, "You know, I've never been comfortable with someone touching me like you're doing." I say, "Too gay?" and he nods, "Yeah, too queer, and like I told you before someone who knows me could see you doing it." I go, "And they'd immediately think, oh John's queer. That doesn't make any sense." He says, "Before you interrupted me I was gonna say, but you can touch me if you want to. I'm beginning to like it because it's you." I go, "Oh, that's good to know. Anyway, I'm the opposite; I like to be touched."
Our heads are turned towards one another, as he asks, "Did I fuck you okay just now? I really want you to like it?" I say, "Dude, you fuck excellently and I've told you that before. You are one hot buddy-sex partner and I'm glad I met ya!" He grins, "And the spanking sets everything up so I'm gonna keep doing it. Have you ever been tied up? I'd love to do that to you." I go, Tied up? Are you some kind of sadist?" He shakes his head, "You know I'm not. Just some safe fun and I'm serious, I really care about doing it the way you like it." I go, "Well you're doing it the way I like it and maybe you can tie me up something." He smirks, "You know damn well you're getting a long spanking tied-up. I've often wondered and even fantasized about spanking a guy until I climax." I go, "Dream on, Sailor." But I honestly do think John fucks really good. He smiles, saying, "I feel like a fag staring into your eyes like we've been doing for the last two minutes." I mutter, "Well, don't do it then." He goes, "You don't make me feel like a fag though.
It seems like a natural thing having sex with you, and then looking into your eyes. Normally after screwing, sex is the last thing I want to talk about." I go, "I've noticed that."
He shakes his head, going, "You're going to turn me into a homo if I'm not careful. I'm bisexual ya know." He's told me that before although he's never had sex with a girl, never been on a date with a girl. Still, he has the right to think what he wants. I get off the bed, asking, "Wanna take a shower with me?" He looks at me, "See what you're doing, Dylan. Tempting me to come fully over to your side of the street." I go, "No I'm not. I simply asked if you want to shower with me." He says, "Um, yes, I want to, but I'm not going to." I pat his shoulder, "Okay, my feelings are only a little hurt. I'll take a fast shower so you'll have time for one." Walking in the bathroom naked, I turn on the shower and then look at the toiletry items provided by the hotel. Not bad. Taking the shampoo and conditioner with me, I open the shower stall door and get under the water flow, turning around getting wet all over.
I'm putting shampooing in my hair when the shower stall opens and, with a red blush on his face in-between his freckles, John says, "I don't want you to think I'm a prude," and he walks in as I step over giving him space. I say, "I'll shampoo your hair for you and then you do it for me," and I squeeze some shampoo on the top go his head. He makes a face, murmuring, "I can't believe I'm doing this."
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@outlook.com
========================================================
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
========================================================
Please consider a tax deductible donation of any size to nonprofit Nifty to help with the expense of maintaining this ginormous free story site. Thank you very much.
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html