DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 51
by Donny Mumford
Daryl's reading the pamphlet Shawn gave him as I drive us away from the Rockingham Mall. We rarely stay-in on a Saturday night but that's what we're doing tonight because of Rob's concussion and Pony's sore tit. Speaking of which I'm was super impressed with how well he dealt with his nipple piercing. Jesus, compared to him I was a big baby getting my nipple pierced. Of course, the circumstances surrounding my nipple piercing were very different from Pony's. I got mine during my New York City trip visiting John and Billy. The reason I was a wreck the day of the piercing was John had me scheduled to get my penis pierced in what's known as a Prince Albert.
Fortunately, that didn't happen but he insisted I at least get my nipple pierced. Now I'm glad he did but at the time I was a basket case. In hindsight, I still think some aspects of that New York City adventure were pretty cool.
Overall though I'm not cut-out for what was basically a master/slave situation for those two, so I escaped in the wee hours of Sunday morning.
Pony interrupts my musings, "Ya know what, Dylan?" I go, "No, what?" He smirks at me, and says, "First off, thanks for coming with me today." I nod, "You're welcome." He taps the pamphlet, adding, "And secondly, everything the pamphlet says I should do is in this so-called after-care-kit Shawn told me I should buy. I really liked him. Anyway, I should have no trouble healing." I mumble, "Good," while thinking it's not going to be as simple as he thinks. Pony asks, "So how long did it take your nipple to heal?" I go, "Um, about two months I think. It was a royal pain-in-the-ass at times though, like when I'd roll over on it in my sleep." He asks, "What'd you do?" I go, "Usually I'd wake-up yelling, 'Ow!' and then do some cursing." He goes, "No, I meant what did you do to prevent that from happening? Do you have any helpful advice?" I mumble, "Yeah, put a Band-aid over the ring so it doesn't get snagged on anything." He goes, "That's in the pamphlet," and then he pulls his shirt up to look at his nip ring, mumbling, "My fucking nipple looks as sore as it feels. Oh man though, did you see how quickly that cool dude did the whole thing? Like five seconds." I go, "Yeah, you lucked-out having Shawn do it for you."
As we turn onto route 114, he asks, "Do you think Shawn's gay?" I nod, "That'd be my guess, not that it matters." He mumbles, "He looked kinda young too. I think he liked me. You know, the way he kept giving me pats on the shoulder. When he leaned his face close to mine doing the piercing he smelled good." I mutter, "Uh huh." Letting his shirt drop down, Pony mumbles, "I'm thinking maybe I'll go back to the Mall and flirt with Shawn a little.
Show him I'm available." I glance over and see him smirking again.
When Pony realizes I'm not going to say anything about his Shawn remarks, he goes, "Yeah, I'll bet Shawn has a big cock, and I know that ugly partner of his definitely has a big one. I'd like to feel a real man's hard cock up my ass for once." Then he can't help snorting out a laugh, adding, "Yeah, a real big hard cock would feel good for a change." His laughter gets me chuckling too, as I'm muttering, "You asshole!" He holds his hands a foot apart, saying, "Something like this long... and really fat too. Damn, that'd be something." Laughing with him I sputter out, "I'll buy you a humongous dildo and happily plow your ass with it." He's laughing so hard he hiccups, then he goes, "Oh fuck, I can't catch my breath."
When parked behind the apartment we get out and go in the back door with Pony still snickering. I go, "Apparently, there's no sense in me fucking you anymore; not with my measly six-inch dick, huh?" We go up the steps and down the hall to the apartment where Pony turns serious, taking hold of my arm, saying, "All joking aside, Dylan, don't mention anything I said about Shawn's cock to Rob, okay?" I go, "Yeah, fine, but Rob knows your gay, so...
" Pony acts startled, "Rob knows? Um, Jesus! Don't let on to anybody else.
You promised you wouldn't tell anyone." I've got my front door key out, mumbling, "Yeah, yeah. Rob's the only one who knows, so your secret's safe."
Pony's still holding my arm, "Thanks again for helping me do the piercing, Dylan. If you want to kiss me it's okay." I shake my head, "No, I don't especially want to kiss you." He goes, "You can if you want to. I mean as my way of thanking you." I snort out a laugh and unlock the door.
Rob's watching 'Wheel of Fortune' on TV and he's got scalped from his latest Golden signature haircut. It looks like someone put a small bowl on his head; one that sat on top, and buzzed off all the other hair leaving only the hair under the bowl. I don't say anything about it though. We've talked out Golden's barbering enough and by now there's nothing left to say. Rob asks, "How'd it go, Pony?" Pony shrugs, "It was like getting a flu shot, um, only you get the shot in your nipple." Rob chuckles, then asks, "Was Pony a big boy, Dylan?" I go, "Actually he was awesome. Show him, Pony." He pulls up his shirt and Rob gets off the sofa and comes over for a closer look, saying, "Cool! I'm getting one after I graduate." I resist rubbing up the back of Rob's head. It's apparent Golden used an-eight-inch guide this time... and that's really short. Pony goes, "Why do you need to wait until you graduate, Rob?" and he goes, "I don't want a nip ring while I'm on the baseball team. It would give the guys something to break my balls about. The guys are unmerciful when a teammate is especially different in some way. Our latest victim was this freshman, Marty Koons, who had wicked long hair. In just two days of practice he'd taken so much shit about it he was at Golden's when I was there. All his long curly hair ended up on the floor.
Fuckin' Golden is heartless. Anyway, teammates can exert mucho peer pressure, especially to underclassmen."
I'm using a church key popping the cap off a bottle of Bud, then holding it out to Pony. "No thanks, Dylan. You know I don't like beer. You guys wouldn't have a joint, would you?" I go, "No! Do you want a Pepsi?" He nods and I hand a cold one to him as Rob says, "So Pony, you're not going to that party tonight?" I answer for him, "He didn't want to go out after his surgery." Rob smirks knowingly at me because he knows Pony has this major crush on me and Pony likes being in the apartment; any reason will do. It's no big deal to Rob though. We've talked about it briefly and he thinks Pony's crush is cute. He's not worried about it in the least.
After chugging some soda, Pony does an exaggerated burp, then says, "Dylan
said you wouldn't mind if I hang-out here tonight, Rob." Rob goes, "He's right too... I don't mind. I gotta warn you though, we're kind of boring."
Pony mutters, "I don't think you're boring," and he sits on the sofa watching Wheel of Fortune for a minute, then asks Rob, "Anybody winning big money?" Rob shrugs, "I wasn't really paying attention. That show came on after NESN Sport's Center. Mostly I'm kinda evaluating how I feel, concussion-wise." I go, "I was afraid to ask how you're feeling. I mean after you jumped down my throat about that this morning, but how do you feel?" He goes, "Good. Really good although not perfect. I'm going to take everything nice and easy tonight and tomorrow hoping I can play ball on Monday. I need to pass Slat's concussion test before he'll let me do any baseball activities."
Pony looks over at me and pats the cushion next to him on the sofa, saying, "Why don't you sit down, Dylan." I go over and plop down while jokingly saying, "Okay, I'll sit next to you but we can't hold hands with Rob here."
Daryl blushes as deep a red as I've ever seen him blush, and angrily say, "Why would you say something like that?" I ruffle his hair, mumbling, "Just teasing you, Daryl." He grunts out, "Well don't!" Rob chuckles, saying, "It's okay, Pony. You can hold Dylan's hand; I won't get jealous." Pony's furious, his face dark red, his lips tightly closed with tears in his eyes.
Jesus! I don't know why this upset him so much, we're only joking with him. I quietly say, "Chill out, dude. I'm sorry for teasing you, relax." Thinking that's the end of that, I ask Rob, "Do you want to play one of the 'Call of Duty' games on Xbox?" He says, "No thanks, babe. I better not. Too much activity for me in my condition. Play it with Pony." I look at him, "C'mon, Pony, the Xbox is set-up in the bedroom." If looks could kill I'd be dead.
I don't know what I did or said that was so bad. Pony gets up stiffly and follows me into the bedroom as Jeopardy comes on the TV. Robby mutters, "Oh, fuck no," and changes the channel to ESPN."
I close the bedroom door and Pony's like, "Don't you ever embarrass me like that again, Dylan, or we won't be friends!" My first inclination is to yell, 'What the fuck is wrong with you, ya overly sensitive twerp?' But instead I say, "I don't know what was embarrassing, Pony. Honestly I don't." He says, "The holding hands thing. You and Rob ganged-up to mock and humiliate me. You must have told him I asked you about guys holding hands or something. Did you and him have fun talking and snickering about me behind my back?" My inclination this time is to call him an immature pussy and tell him to grow the fuck up, but instead I shake my head, murmuring, "I haven't told
Rob jack-shit about you and me, Pony. He's correctly assumed on his own you're gay, but what happens between us, you and me, stays between you and me. I've never said one word to anyone about a single thing you and I do or say. Zero, zilch, nada, nothing!" He looks startled, as I add, "And Rob's never asked either. He and I have an arrangement, an understanding that we have a discrete open relationship. So, you're totally wrong about your assumption that I discussed anything about you with Rob."
He was staring at me through my entire rational rebuttal of his misconception. Finally, he slowly nods his head and goes, "Oh, I guess it's my mistake then. You're probably wondering what the fucks wrong with me, right? You probably think I'm a big immature baby, huh?" I shrug, "Absolutely not! Thoughts like those simply did not occur to me, Daryl. I'm extremely fond of you and was therefore sincerely concerned about what was bothering you. And now I find out that it was a totally incorrect assumption on your part. I forgive you though... ya big immature baby." He tries not to grin but he does, muttering, "You're such a prick sometimes." I go, "C'mon give me a hug.
We'll hug it out." He steps over to lean against me and I give him a big hug as he nestles in filling every space available, then his arms go around my waist, as he mutters, "Prick." I have to laugh and then quickly say, "I'm not laughing at you, Pony. Don't misinterpret my silly laughter. I'm just a jolly guy." He mutters, "Jolly prick, you mean."
To break-up the hug I rub his head messing-up his hair and he steps away, "Hey! Don't do that, Dylan!" Then he asks, "Do I need a haircut?" He doesn't, but I go, "If you think you do, then you do." He mumbles, "Good. Will you do it now." It is a fact that Daryl often acts immature when it's just the two of us. With others, he can be acerbic and kinda funny, plus he doesn't take shit from anyone. He's actually a bit of a ball-buster himself when interacting with the general campus population. In fact Tom Higgins, Daryl's roommate, has mentioned to me a few times that Pony's a bossy pain-in-the-ass at times. I've never seen Pony be bossy except in a joking manner.
For whatever reason, he apparently likes to play the little brother role around me. Whatever, he's managed to endeared himself to me and I kinda love the kid.
As I'm getting out the barbering stuff Pony takes his shirt off, saying, "I guess I need to apologize for my ill-conceived tantrum a few minutes ago.
It's just that the very thought of you making fun of me behind my back is very hurtful to me." I drop a used bath towel on the carpet to collect hair
clippings and then put the desk chair on the towel, not that there'll be many cut hairs and none of them will be longer than a quarter-inch.
Haircut-wise Pony would be fine for another week-to-ten-days except he likes getting haircuts from me. And I'm positive it's not because he has a haircut fetish. He probably doesn't even know there is such a thing.
When he sits in the barber-chair I can't help but tease him a little more, saying, "I gotta tell you I'm really disappointed you'd even think I would talk about you behind your back. To be honest, it kinda pisses me off." He
holds up both hands, giving me the double-finger, saying, "I already apologized for that shit so please stop beating a dead horse!" I go, "You saying I should stop beating a dead horse doesn't change the fact you accused me of something I didn't do." He says, "Now you're just breaking my balls. In hindsight though, it was stupid of me because I know you wouldn't do anything like that. I don't know what came over me; I had a brain fart or something and I'd appreciate if you'd stop throwing my one and only mistake I've ever made with you in my face every two seconds." I'm like, "Every two seconds? I barely mentioned it in passing." He goes, "Hey, mister ball-buster, we already hugged that shit out!" I can't help but snort out a chuckle or two.
Ha ha, it'd be so easy to tease him some more, but instead I ask, "Do you want the same haircut you got ten-days-ago?" He turns his head to look up at me, "You mean the middle-school haircut?" I go, "As you call it, but yes that's what I mean?" He asks, "Do you think I should change to another style?" Chuckling, I go, "We don't have too many choices, Pony. I mean your hair is short already." He goes, "You said not too many choices, which means there are a couple, right? So what are they?" Chugging the last of my beer, I go, "I'll get myself another beer and think about that, okay?" He goes, "I guess I'll have a beer too. I can smell your beer-breath and maybe if I have a beer I won't be able to smell it." Shaking my head and grinning, I mutter, "Who's the ball-buster now?"
Rob's lying on the sofa watching TV when I walk into the living room. He looks over and smiles, so I ask, "Can I get you something to drink, Rob?" He shakes his head, "No thank, Dylan. I'm following your advice and laying off the beer tonight. I had that one beer earlier and it did make me feel a little dizzy. And obviously, smoking is out of the question." I open two bottles of Bud, saying, "I've only had two cigarettes all day myself. We could probably quit if we wanted to." He's like, "Yeah, but I'm sticking with my plan to quit at graduation." Walking towards the hall, I go, "Then I'm sticking to the same plan too. It'd be, um, uncomfortable or awkward if one of us smoked and the other didn't."
In the bedroom, I hand Pony a bottle of beer as I'm admiring his shirtless body. Really an outstanding taut body on this guy. I give his shoulder a squeeze. His body's muscle definition is perfectly proportioned to his size, which is my size. Pony mutters, "Thanks for the beer, Dylan," then he takes a swallow making a face, and says, "It's the nip ring that makes me think I need a new hairstyle, and you're the expert, so..." I go, "Not that I'm able to follow your nip-ring/haircut logic, there are three possibilities for a change. I mean, considering your hair's already fairly short." He nods, "Okay, what are the possibilities?" I go, "One, I could do a part on the side and comb your hair over for that classic preppy look. Maybe even with a little pompadour. I think would look adorable on you and I could even teach you how to do the pompadour." He goes, "More ball-busting from you." I chuckle and say, "The second possibility is the obvious buzz-cut or burr variation of a buzz. The third is a flattop. You're hair's long enough for that." He goes, "Hmmm, a nineteen-fifties' flattop, huh?" I chug some beer thinking maybe I'll tie a load on tonight. Maybe I'll buy a pint of bourbon too and have some shots and beers... get hammered.
Pony's leaning forward in the chair holding his bottle of beer with both hands and resting his forearms on top of his thighs. My beer is in my left hand as I use my right to run a comb back through Pony's hair. It's about an inch-and-a-half-long on top with the bangs even a little longer, and he doesn't need a haircut, like I said, but a flattop would work. He's got his concentration-expression on his face, I assume trying to decide if he wants the flattop or one of the other two choices. I'm impatient to get this over with so I'm like, "Well what's it gonna be, Daryl?" He mutters, "Call me by my nickname, please." I go, "Okay, Pony, but let's make a decision already!" He says, "Yeah but first, I've been thinking, and now I know why I over-reacted so badly in the living room a little while ago." Raising my eyebrows, I'm like, "Do tell." He looks at me, blushing again, "It's because I'm jealous Rob's your boyfriend." I nod, muttering, "Oh that. Yeah, well I've been jealous a few times myself, Pony. It's a normal emotion that comes from the reptilian part of our brains, which is the first basic structure of our brains. Jealousy catapults us back thousands of years of evolution to the reptilian way of processing information."
He's looking at me funny-like, asking, "Did you just make that shit up?"
Shaking my head, I go, "No, I read it once when trying to understand my own jealousy." He asks, "What were you jealous about?" I mutter, "It doesn't matter now because I'm over it... mostly. The point is it's normal to be jealous once in a while and by simply acknowledging it, like you just did, jealousy loses some of its power over you. Sharing it with me, whether you know it or not, was therapeutic for you." He goes, "You're amazing! Yes, I'm not as jealous now. Wow! And you claim it's because I told you about it, huh?" I shrug, "I'm just parroting what I've read." He goes, "Goddamn, I learn a lot from you." I say, "Ya know, Pony, you and I are forming the kind of intimate friendship that many people would be jealous of. Not a lot of people have a friend like you are to me, and I am to you." He goes, "That's an awesome way to put it, Dylan. I never thought of it that way, but you're right. We're lucky to have met one another." I go, "Yep, I feel lucky."
Thinking about that, he squints his eyes, "But.. um, the problem is I'm never quite sure if you're putting me on or not." I go, "You should be able to tell from my tone of voice and facial expression that I'm being serious now. Like I've been for the last three minutes, for example." He grins, "See, right there. I can't tell if you're breaking my balls about that tone of voice and facial expression thing, or not." I go, "I'm not, so now you know." He drinks some beer, then says, "Okay, I believe you're being sincere and I like everything you said. Should we hug it out again?" I go, "Absolutely!" so he stands and we do a tight hug. When I let go, he says, "Omigod, I feel much better about everything now. Nice fucking talk, dude!" I can't help but laugh a little. I go, "You are so likable, Pony. I'm lucky to be your friend." He goes, "Yeah, you are actually, and virtually everyone thinks I'm extremely likable." I go, "I wouldn't say extremely." He smirks and shrugs.
After a couple of swallows of beer, I ask, "Are we done with our 'talk' now?" He goes, "Yep, but it was an awesome fuckin' talk, right up there with the best ones we've ever had. Don'cha think?" I nod, "Oh yeah, this was a good talk. And, after that awesome 'talk' we can probably forget about the haircut, right? I mean for now." He goes, "Oh no! I wanna know what you think I should get?" Balls! We're right back where we started from. I go back to my last suggestion, "Have you ever had a flattop?" He shakes his head, "No, but it'd be cool to see what I'd look like as a kid living in the fifties." A decision! I think the last person I did a flattop for was Chubby a year or so ago.
Chubby asks for a different haircut about every third haircut and he looks uber good in every one of them too. Rob and I rocked flattops as seventeen-year-old boys. Those were the days my friend, as the song goes. I actually wish I could live every one of those days over again. Not that that's an original thought. For Pony, I'll do a longish version of a flattop so he can still switch, with the help of hair gel, back to the preppy hairstyle with a part if he doesn't like the flattop look. During this latest unnecessary haircut, I only take a little off the sides and back. Then use the trimmer clipper outlining around and behind his nicely shaped ears. Then I put hair gel on the top hairs getting them standing-up straight by using the hairdryer while I'm brushing his hair up and back. I tell him, "You'll need to train your hair to stand-up like this for a week or so. Then it'll stand-up on
its own without gel." When it's dry and standing tall it's longer than I first thought it was, but that's good. Now to do the flattop part of this haircut.
Combing up though his bangs, stopping when the comb's about an-inch-and-a-quarter above his forehead, and then making sure the comb is perfectly level, I run the clippers across the comb cutting the hair down to a longish flattop length. Combing back over his head, using the first cuts as my guide, I repeat the process until his hair is a flattop from front to back. He looks like he's fourteen years old as he grins at himself in the mirror. He mumbles, "Of fuck, this is so cool." I go, "Ya don't see too many flattops on campus." He goes, "It's nasty-sick and retro. Hey, you're a really good barber, Dylan. Damn!" He's using 'nasty-sick' as our current vernacular meaning 'exceeding all expectations of awesomeness'.
Pony wants to show his flattop to Rob. I follow him into the living room carrying the towel of hair clipping that I'll shake over the balcony railing. Rob goes, "Holy shit, that's so cool, Pony. Remember our flattops, Dylan?" I go, "Yeah, the good ol' days, Rob. Body massages, lawn cutting, and Bobbsey Twin's flattops." He grins, "Oh fuck, yeah." Pony asks, "Bobbsey Twins?" Rob says, "That's what the college guys called Dylan and me because we have the same shade of blond hair and we had matching flattop haircuts. We were seventeen at the time." Pony mumbles, "You guys must have been really cute teenagers." I go, "Well, yeah..."
We never do play an Xbox game. We watch a movie together instead, and without holding hands or even mentioning holding hands... thus avoid embarrassing Pony again. I don't buy a pint of bourbon either, and I don't tie a load on. None of that stuff. After the movie, I drive Pony to the campus without discussing jealousy or friendship or anything serious. He asks, "What do you think people will say about my flattop?" I'm like, "Well, Tom, your roommate, will have something to say, but most people won't give a shit one way or the other, Pony. It might surprise you to know how little the vast majority of people care how you wear your hair. I found this out when I was getting some of the most severe haircuts imaginable, and then when the rare person did comment about my goofy haircut it was usually surprisingly complimentary." He goes, "Are you saying people aren't waiting with bated-breath to see what my latest haircut looks like?" I mumble, "Sadly, yes, that's what I'm saying." He mutters, "Well that sucks, but now that you mention it I
can't ever recall giving a shit what kind of haircut anyone else has either. Not that I ever thought of it one way or the other before meeting you.
You've opened my eyes to realities I never dreamed of previously." I laugh, "Glad to help." I drive illegally down dormitory row right to the front door of Pony's dormitory. There are the usual do-gooders who comment, "Hey, asshole, ya can't fucking drive your car down here," or 'What the fuck's wrong with you? There are people walking here! " Shit like that.
Ignoring the protesters, I say, "Text me tomorrow, Pony. Maybe we can do something together." He nods, "Thanks, Dylan, um, for everything." I go, "Try not to roll over on your nip ring." He waves and walks towards his dorm's front door as I see a good Samaritan hustling towards me to explain how wrong it is of me driving on dormitory row. I back-up all the way to the street, give the guy the finger, and drive to our parking lot and then yell, "Typical!" Some asshole took my parking spot in the ten-minutes I was gone so I park in the next lot over reminding myself I need to get the Jeep back to Chubby tomorrow. Inside the apartment Rob grins at me, saying, "There you are. I believe you and I need to get reacquainted in the most intimate way imaginable." I go, "Yes, I believe you're right, but considering your delicate condition it wouldn't be advisable for you to exert a lot of energy.
It's up to me to provide that on your awesome, um, ass." Rob goes, "I was thinking the exact thing, boyfriend." I grin muttering, "Jesus, I gotta do everything around here."
Turning out the living-room lights we walk to the bedroom holding hands and smirking at one another. Rob asks, "Is Pony okay now?" I go, "Yeah, he said he was jealous we were boyfriends." He goes, "Don't blame him. We're something to be jealous about." First we make a stop in the bathroom for all that necessary stuff and then with empty bladders, clean hands and faces plus minty-fresh breath we get undressed and get in bed naked. Oh man, the feel of Rob's naked body makes me shiver at how nasty-sick it is.
We do some soft kisses while lightly rubbing our hands over each other.
Rob murmurs, "This year has been so special with just the two of us in the apartment. It's been fucking wonderful and almost like being married." I take this opportunity to rub up the back of Rob's sheared head and then over the top into his long blond hair. He has great hair. I murmur, "Knowing we're going to be married makes me feel good, Rob. You and me, babe. Hell, you're right that anyone would be jealous of what we've got with each other."
We kiss again with our tongues joining in and, damn, I love Robby's tongue.
It's the perfect size with the perfect firmness, not too hard or too soft.
I've experienced many tongues, especially when I was younger and more randy, and some tongues are too big and fat while others are too firm and still others are mushy. Different shades of pink too; some almost a brown color.
Ugh! Robby's tongue is pink and I like to rub my tongue against his. It's very sexy! Rob gets aroused quickly tonight; probably because he's had no sex for a few days now. He's getting more and more aroused and that gets me more and more aroused. We're in the most ideal circumstances imaginable being naked in bed with the one we're romantically in love with. What could be better than that? What an incredible sensation it is being sexually aroused too. It takes over your mind and becomes the only thing you can think about.
Sexual arousal begins in the brain ya know. There are several steps of mental stimuli creating internal fluctuation of hormones leading to physical changes like increased heart rate and blood pressure along with more rapid breathing. Increased erotic desire have me kissing and licking his mouth more energetically. My hands grope his body while his scent acts like an aphrodisiac to me. We squirm against one another trying for as much naked bodily contact as possible without actually wrestling, and all of this is lumped into what's called foreplay. Our foreplay inevitably causes a hard penis on both of us. Hovering over everything is the knowledge that there's imminent intercourse just around the corner. For gay guys like us it's anal intercourse, which is the only kind that interest me.
There are quiet moans that go with desire and arousal as the entire universe shrinks to just Rob and me. Mixed-saliva all around our mouths and our hard cocks leak the clear liquid called pre-cum. We're both making quiet whining sounds and then my hard cock finds Rob's asshole as he lies on his back. With my hands on the mattress on either side of Rob he lifts his legs and pulls them back on either side of me as I snuggle in a little closer pushing the head of my cock past his sphincter muscle. The expression on his face shows desire and love so when I move my hips pushing the precum-wet head of my cock inside him further, his head goes back and he moans, "Ooooh, Dylan, mmmm." My knees are spread as I hump another inch of boned-up cock inside him and incredible sensations come off my hard boner that's surrounded tightly by his rectum's tight walls. When every inch of boner is up his ass he tightens his buttocks muscles and the tightness of his rectum surrounding my throbbing hard-on intensifies making me moan at the delicious pleasure. Looking down at Rob's face I see an expression of deep sexual pleasure and that makes it sexually hotter for me. For me there isn't anything to compare to having sex with Robby.
His shudders when I hump against his buttocks slightly moving the big bone in his ass and setting of sensations from the nerve ending there. He moves his legs up to rests the calves on my shoulders. If he had hairy legs I'd probably cum right now but he, like me, has almost no hair on his legs at all. Just some short soft blond almost invisible hairs on the front of his calves and none at all on his thighs. That's just how it is; luck of the draw. I don't know when I began thinking hairy legs were sexy. One day I just did.
Moving my hips back slowly I shudder a little as sensations sizzle up and down my hard penis, but especially from the swollen head. I pull my boner back until I can feel the head against the tight lips of his anus catching just under the head. Keeping slight outward pressure on his anus for a second before sliding it tightly back up until my crotch collides with his firm
buttocks and he goes, "Ooooh, oooh... feels good, babe." He looks helpless lying there with me pretty much in charge of this sex act. I like the slight feeling of dominance when I 'top' and it's extra special watching Rob's facial expressions while I'm fucking him up the ass. I know all too well how good it feels having a hard cock fucking my ass.
After a few slow penetrations and withdrawals, I pick up the pace and then
trusts my hips faster and we begin hearing the expected sounds, "Slap, slap, slap," and the sound increase the sexiness for me and give me a little more of that slightly dominant feeling. Rob takes his legs off my shoulders and get an arm around the back of each thigh pulling both legs back almost to his chest. That lifts his ass a little and my six-inches of hard cock now slides back and forth at a slightly different angle getting more pressure on his prostate going in and coming out. It's a few minutes of pure sexual pleasure that's basically indescribable and then I gasp as feelings of impending climax takes hold and rules everything. Oh my God, what a great irresistible feeling it is just before climax! I know Rob's feeling his orgasm too because his eyes and mouth are closed as desperate sounds slip out of his throat, "Umm, umm, yum, ooh oooh oooh ooooh!" His body gets stiff as he struggles to hump his hips with creamy white cum shooting straight up right in front of my face, a few drops of spray clipping my chin as I lean over him driving my boner up his ass harder.
There goes another shot of his semen up in the air, Rob's making sounds like he's in pain while clenching all the muscles in his body. The first ejaculation reached just above my eye level. When I glanced down at his hard cock it's quivering in its tightness and sticking straight up. I watch with fascinated as from the gaping pee slit three more shorter strings of white cum shoot up as Rob's in the throes of ecstasy.
The first two cum shots came down hitting Rob's side while the last three went up a few inches and then landed wetly in his pubic hairs. He moans and strokes his softening cock with his eyes still closed. His body looks loose now while I'm stiff as a board, my crotch tightly against his buttocks humping and almost gagging as I squeal with every muscle in my body tight as a long string of cum travel up from my nuts and speedily up my six-inch-steel-cock to spatter inside Rob's bowels, and then again as I shake and shudder. I'm humping again but feeling weak now as my climax begins quickly dissipating leaving behind sparkling sensations around my groin that cause a last shudder and then a gasping, "Ahhhh, mmmm,"... and it's over already. My body goes limp as I breathe deeply savoring those ten seconds of intense pleasure. My heart's pounding as I gasp in another couple of deep breaths and then do a few lazy thrusts in Rob's cream-filled rectum before I open my eyes not even remembering when I closed them.
Rob has a red blotch on each cheek as he stretches out his legs on either side of me and gives me a little smile, still holding his cock in his fist, "That never gets old, does it, Dylan?" I shake my head, "Never, Rob.
Jesus, I had myself one helluva climax!" Another deep breath and I lean back pulling my cock from Rob's ass making an involuntary, "Ssssssss," sound at the sensations coming off the now soft head. My cock flops out and Rob says, "This usually happens to me when I 'bottom'." I go, "What?" and as he slides off the side of the bed, he mumbles, "I feel like I gotta take a dump."
I watch him go into the bathroom and close the door. Huh! Lying flat on the mattress I pull the covers up to my neck without even wiping my sloppy dick. I'm thinking, 'Hmmm, I've 'topped' Rob two or three times recently and this is a first time he thought he needed to take a dump. Yeah, but the way he said it made it sound like it was a much more frequent occurrence. So, who's fucking him besides me? I know Danny's a 'top'. He fucked me really good that one time during freshman year; he fucked me really good! Obviously, I don't know anything about this Greg Peters person back home, but he's probably a 'top' too. Hell, most gay guys think of themselves as 'tops'.
I'm the exception by preferring to bottom; well Pony too. So, who else is 'topping' my boyfriend? Maybe nobody and it's just Danny doing it frequently.
Rob comes back grinning and saying, "False alarm, babe," and he climbs back in bed, adding, "I cleaned my ass a little. Lots of semen coming out and I love that it's from you." He gets his arms around me, saying, "I didn't feel anything, concussion-wise, during that great sex with you so I'm really encouraged that I'm getting on top of that." I mumble, "It's still a good idea to hang around the apartment tomorrow with no physical activities." He nods, "Oh yeah, that's my plan."
We lie here next to each other for a minute and then I say, "My dick's sticky." He makes a 'face' like, 'Eww,' and passes me some tissues, saying, "Sorry to be a killjoy, but I'm really tired, how about you?" I'm wiping my penis, "Me too, Rob, but I loved that sex we just had." Guess that might be misconstrued as fishing for a compliment as Rob goes, "I loved the way your
boner feels so long going up my ass." Hmmm, maybe Greg Peters has a short dick. I know Danny doesn't. Or it might be a mystery side-sex buddy of Rob's who has a short penis. Rob turns out the light on the end table and we snuggle together getting comfortable. Then it's a sigh and we say goodnight... and go to sleep.
It's a wonderful uninterrupted nine hours of sleep leaving me feeling good
Sunday morning. Rob's eyes are open but he looks pretty comfortable and not ready to get out of bed yet. I slide over to him and get the way we were when we went to sleep. He puts his arm over me smiling and saying, "What a wonderful thing to wake up and see you, Dylan. I've been awake for about twenty-minutes watching you sleep. I love looking at you. Has anyone ever told you you're cute?" I'm like, "Hmmm, no I believe you're the first, Rob."
We goof around touching each other's naked body and then rub our dicks together getting them hard. Rob murmurs, "It's my turn," and I hold up a finger, like 'just a second' and get out of bed to pad into the bathroom. My boner is feeling good up against my belly, and when I come back in the bedroom I'm holding lubricant, saying, "We should keep this in the nightstand's drawer for easy access."
That's the last talking either of us does as we breathe with short breaths while I wipe lube up and down Rob's fat boner and then lube my asshole pushing lube inside with my finger and then my finger goes in two-inches to rub my prostate making me grunt at the incredible sensations coming off of that favorite gland of mine. Mmmm, that feels good! Pulling my finger out I get on my knees, my forearms on the mattress and my head on the pillow with my ass up. I glance back at Rob as he gets behind me and right away I feel his fat-headed boner at my asshole. The head spreads the slippery lips of my asshole and slides in tightly as I go, "Aaaah," and the rest of his fat boner follows, spreading the walls of my rectum painfully. Rob pants, murmuring, "Sorry, I was anxious, babe." He waits a bit and then does three slow pull backs and thrusts. His boner slides smoothly as the pain inside me is replaced by pleasure. "Oooh, Rob, that's awesome."
With his cock, fully up my ass he stops with his crotch tight against my buttocks and then humps against me while he's spreading his knees adjusting his position. Rob puts a hand under each of my hips pulling my ass up a little and then spanks my ass, "Smack, smack, smack, smack." Just on my right butt cheek leaving it stinging and hot. Adjusting his position again I get two more smacks, "Smack, smack!" and then he begins a hard-fast fucking that raises goosebumps all over me. I haven't felt Rob's cock up my ass since Thursday and it's uniquely special to me, that plus the spanking feels like a homecoming; therefore the goosebumps.
Risking life and limb, this recently-concussed boyfriend of mine is on a wildly aggressive sex act perhaps to prove to himself he's recovered. It's, "Slapslapslapslap," sounds ringing out in the bedroom with me grunting, "Ooh!" with each hard thrust. It's a quick thrill ride to climax with strong sensations from the spanking to the fucking to the CLIMAX! My really hot climax shoots out of my granite-cock and goes up my stomach. Three sharp steaks of warm creamy cum that's now drooling back down my stomach as I'm blinking at the incredible sensations shivering all around my rectum and groin.
Rob grunts and humps against my ass filling me up with his semen, then more gooey cum shoots inside me as Rob gasp a deep breath. I flop down on my stomach pushing my legs out behind me to lie flat on the bed with Rob still docked to my rectum. He lies on my back puffing out moist exhales against the side of my face. I mumble, "Morning breath, Rob," but only as a joke because he still has lingering minty breath from last night's toothpaste.
He snorts out a chuckle and then gets back up on his knees pulling his cock from my ass, but only momentarily as he pulls my hips up off the mattress and, holding them there, gets his cock back in my ass and plows it for another two-minutes. Just as I feel a follow-up orgasm begin building Rob's out of breath and pulls out to flop on the bed next to me. We're both on our stomachs with our heads turned facing each other. He grins and, out of breath, says, "Ya gotta get right back on the horse they say." I go, "Rodeo guys?" He shrugs and grins again, "I don't know, maybe it refers to rodeo guys. Or maybe those cowboys who break-in wild ponies. Some such shit like that." I go, "Horse shit?" and he says, "Or pony shit maybe." We shake our heads acknowledging that we're being goofy.
A little later we talk seriously about how he feels this morning. Bottom line: he feels really good and very well rested. I rub the palm of my hand on the back of his head and he goes, "Don't say a word about Golden latest haircut. I know it's too short." I innocently shrug as if saying something about Rob's absurd haircut is the furthest thing from my mind. He goes, "Golden said he forgot to change guides and once he started it was too late."
I go, "I wasn't going to say a thing about that. I'm feeling for the bump you had back there, and it's still there but smaller." He goes, "Good! It's healing."
We take separate showers and then make breakfast together, both in good moods. Sex before going to sleep and then again first thing in the morning will often put a person in a good mood. After cleaning up the breakfast dishes we ride together to buy a Sunday Globe and then, for old time sake, buy medium coffees at Dunkin Donuts to go. We drink our second coffees of the morning while reading the paper at the apartment. Then with the TV on the ESPN's Sport Desk we lay around not doing much of anything. Rob gets a call from Danny Monday and talks for a minute, then asks me, "Would you mind company this afternoon?" I shrug, "No, not at all." Danny and Lawyer, plus a baseball player I don't know come over and then Chubby and John Beverly come in with another case of beer. Pony calls me and ask if he can come over and then three more baseball teammates show-up uninvited. Everyone is drinking beer and talking and laughing. Much later we chip in and order three large pizzas and before ya know it it's ten o'clock and some of us are half-in-the-bag.
No sex Sunday night and Monday morning and I'm walking around in a fog getting ready for first class. The apartment looks almost as bad as Chubby's and John Beverly's dorm room. Before I can ask, Rob says, "Here's an update: I feel fine and should pass the Doc's concussion test with no problem."
He looks around muttering, "Okay, this place looks really bad but last night was fun." I'm taking Tylenol and asking, "How come you're so perky this morning? I've got a bit of a hangover." He goes, "I only had two beer all yesterday for one thing. Plus I got so much sleep the last three days I'm now invigorated and ready for anything." I mutter, "I wish I was."
Last night Chub drove the Jeep back to the campus, so this morning Rob's driving us to class in the pickup. I didn't notice that Rob wasn't drinking yesterday. When the other guys started coming in I lost track of Rob. Pony was my shadow all night and we got into a card game as partners and then some guys were on the balcony smoking pot and of course then Pony was out there for the weed, like a moth to a flame. All in all, it was a fairly normal college Sunday afternoon and evening I guess, except Rob and I had been doing Sundays alone at the apartment for the past couple of months so by comparison it was a rowdy Sunday for us.
Yesterday's party or whatever it was happened organically. Nothing planned and it starts with a couple of guys and then a couple more and six-packs appear and somebody has a joint or eight of them and before you know it things just flow and happen on their own. You probably couldn't plan it anyway.
It's not something I'd like to be part of every Sunday or even once a month, not if it's at our apartment. I mean Rob and I now need to pick up a lot of stuff and clean the whole friggin' apartment. Plus when guys drink their aim isn't good while taking a piss, so that's not a cool thing to clean.
And we're lucky the hijinks on the balcony didn't get rowdier and draw unwanted attention.
Monday's a drag for me but Rob's really 'up'. After classes Rob goes to baseball practice and I drive the pickup to the apartment and take a nap.
After dinner we give a half-hearted effort at picking up the place but decide we'll do a little each day. So, after some picking-up we do homework assignments and get to bed at a reasonable hour. Tuesday after class Rob invites
me to eat lunch in the dining hall with Golden and some teammates. I decline because I'm not a teammate and I don't want to eat in the dining hall anyway. The few times I've done it, using someone's dining hall card, I felt real uncomfortable and the food isn't that great to start with.
So, after declining the dining hall offer I text Chub and get the Jeep.
Right now, I'm heading for Joe Blair's Restaurant and Cocktail Lounge for lunch. A certain John Smith eats there quite often. I've had lunch and, um, a smoke with John only three times since coming back from Christmas break.
They were three good smokes though! That's partially because ever since the weekend in Worcester John's been doing a damn good dominant, um, smoke.
Plus, I like him but there aren't all that many opportunities to get together this semester because of my new course schedule. Anyway I hope he's there today, and alone!
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@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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