DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 57
by Donny Mumford
Sunday morning lying in bed I'm of course dealing with a hangover. Not at all surprising considering Chub and I were bar-hopping after dinner last night. What surprised me was the ironic cause for my recent worrisome moments. With Chubby acting as my psychiatrist we concluded the cause of my malady was Rob's ironclad blueprint for our future. I say it's ironic because for so long I thought it'd be an ideal situation to have someone taking care of me, making rules and decisions for me, and generally being in-charge.
Well, in sexual situations I still prefer a dominant sex partner but now I no longer want anyone in-charge of all the other aspects of my life. I changed my mind; it's as simple as that. My love affair with Rob hasn't changed though and it's possible, maybe even likely, his plans eventually will still play-out for us. For now, though we need to eliminate all arbitrary deadlines within our relationship. No more predetermined times as to when this or that will, or will not, take place.
This is a totally different outlook from when I was a teenager but it's not unusual for someone to change their mind about stuff as they get older.
I suppose there are individuals who know exactly what they want to do with their lives at a young age and that never changes, but I'm not one of them and neither are most young people. The majority of students at Merrimack, for example, have no idea what they're going to do after college. Hell, there's a large group that haven't even decided on a major yet! And I'm not claiming any of this is some earth-shattering revelation.
Continuing the irony theme, it's ironic that I'm the one who needs to take-charge and explain to Rob that our long-range plans can't and shouldn't be
guaranteed. It was immature of us to think they should be. It's a similar situation to Rob's ill-conceived idea a year ago, that we get engaged. Come
to think of it, I was the one who took-charge of blowing-up that idea too.
At first the idea of being engaged was a romantically cute notion, but the
reality of it as sophomores in college was frivolous and, well, stupid.
Sure, it's fine and dandy to share plans for the future but those youthful plans shouldn't contain restrictions and/or deadlines. Relationships should flow naturally with milestones happening only when it feels right for both parties. Again, this isn't a ground-breaking revelation, just one Rob and I have been ignoring. Having relationship deadlines is like putting an expiration date on the relationship. For example, Rob's proposition that beginning the first day of our senior year we all-of-a-sudden will be monogamous is unrealistic. Same thing applies for other timetables like when we move into Rob's condo or us getting married the summer after graduation and having baby a year later etc.
A timetable to do certain things at a certain time is pretty much inconsistent with Rob's and my relationship in the first place. Our relationship falls within what's called a polyamory arrangement. A polyamory relationship assumes there's a primary loving intimate relationship but it also includes one or more other sex partners with knowledge and consent of all partners involved. It overcomes jealousy and possessiveness. What most people aren't aware of is that monogamy is rather a recent development, historically speaking, and still kinda rare in cultures around the world. According to Wikipedia, of the current 1,231 societies around the world only 186 are monogamous. The other 1045 are either occasionally polygamous or frequently so.
A little history lesson there that I imagine most people will be shocked to learn. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is Rob and I need to wipe the slate clean of all timetables and see if things plays out the way we think they will. It's really not changing much of anything except an understanding that nothing is etched in stone.
Getting out of bed slowly I'm feeling confident that none of these things will be much of a problem for Rob. It's not like we're breaking-up or anything. We're still in love and sharing this apartment and I'll most likely work for him this summer and then in a few years we'll probably get married.
The only difference is that nothing is a foregone conclusion and there's no specific timetable for any of those things to happen. I want to be free from the possibility that promises might need to be broken. In business, of course deadlines must be met, but in relationships they just cause unnecessary stress.
Amazingly I remember one of Chubby's quotes from last night that's applicable to this situation: 'To control your cow, give it a bigger pasture'.
Words of wisdom from Zen master, Suzuki Roshi. It means instead of tightly controlling something, in this case our relationship, open it up and give it space to roam around and see what happens. Sure, have a goal, but give it room and let it grows organically instead of trying to force it to work.
Watch how it works on its own and you might learn something. Jeez, I feel so smart this morning, and with a hangover too. I'm anxious to share this newfound wisdom with Robby.
First though I desperately need something non-alcoholic to drink.
Alcoholic beverages dehydrate the fool who drinks in excess, meaning me. To combat my hangover, I take three Advil with a sixteen-ounce bottle of Coke and then spend a long time doing all the regular things one does in the bathroom; doing them all slowly. Coming out of the bathroom followed by a cloud of steam from the shower I need to lie down again because that was exhausting!
Gee, I hope I remember all the stuff I want to tell Rob. And I've got to do this tactfully because I do not want to hurt his feelings while I'm trashing his plans of a lifetime. Okay, I'll remember to say 'we' and not 'you' as if I'm refuting everything he's planned for us. I mean I went along with his ideas until now that I've finally seen a beacon of common-sense.
First, I'll congratulate him on the team's two wins and tell him I missed him because I did, and then have the heart-to-heart talk. Oh, and it'll be best if I do not mention anything about Chubby! Rob will mistakenly think Chub and I were conspiring behind his back. Chub and Rob are friends to a degree except where I'm concerned. They have different ideas about what's good for me. I'm humbled that they both care about my well-being as much as they do. Obviously I'll always trust Chubby's opinion above all others, but nothing good could come from me mentioning that fact to Robby.
Oh fuck, it'll be fine. After a half-hour or so I figure I better get off the bed and get dressed. While I'm doing that, I'm wondering if I've overstated in my mind Rob's willingness to acquiesce to my new outlook for us.
Dressed now, I wander into the living room and glance out the sliding glass doors to see another gloomy day outside. There's simply not enough sun during the month of March so thank God the month's almost over. What a sucky month, although it's better than January or February. I'm speaking about the weather and I suppose individuals who love skiing probably have a much different opinion of winter weather than I do.
For breakfast I settle on coffee and toast only. My stomach's unsettled and I think those fucking Guinness drafts are mostly responsible. Guinness is
a very gassy beverage. Lying on the sofa I text Rob, 'What are you doing now, Rob?' and then wonder if that sounded too much like I'm checking-up on him. Ha ha, after everything I've been thinking this morning, checking up on Rob is a major contradiction of my thesis. He doesn't text back anyway.
Hmmmm, wonder what he's doing that he couldn't text back?
After reading the Sunday Globe's sports section, and then the 'entertainment' pages, I rest my eyes for a minute and doze off. Naps are excellent things to do when hungover. For lunch later on it's another Coke along with more Advil and then soup; Lipton's dry noodle soup mix with 'real' chicken-flavored broth. I add three cups of water to the dry mixture and bring to a boil and then just let it simmer for five-minutes. Huh, 'real' and 'chicken-flavored' sound contradictory to me. In any case I down all three cups of that concoction and then evaluate how I'm feeling now. Not horrible, but not great either. Chubby texts me, 'Feeling OK this morning, bro? How 'bout lunch?' I call him and explain I had soup for lunch and I'm waiting for Rob to get back from Georgia. We talk a little about last night's revelation and I assure him I'm speaking with Rob about everything this afternoon. Chub doesn't encourage me or discourage me from doing that, but wishes me well in either case. What a perfect brother he is.
Rob finally texts me at one o'clock saying they're on the bus coming from Logan Airport and would I pick him up at the ballpark? He'll text again when he gets there. Oh yeah, I need to pick him up. I forgot about that. A half-hour later he texts me saying they just got back and he'll be waiting at the entrance to the ballpark. Well okay then, here we go. After driving on campus, I park near the ballpark and see Rob talking with Danny and two other guys. Damn, they all have that ridiculous haircut from Golden. Jesus H.
Christ, don't they ever look at themselves in a mirror?
Not particularly wanting to join their discussion I toot the horn and all four of them look over. Rob says something and bumps fists with his teammates before sauntering over to me in his pickup. Fuck the haircut, Rob's looking awfully sexy-hot today! His blond beard is really beginning to show and it's at that stage, 'the I don't give a shit', three-day's growth. Not much of a mustache with the ends not even meeting the beard on his chin. Then he has some growth along his jaw and up to his sideburns. He's got a good grin going for him too and as he opens the passenger door, he says, "Hi Dylan! Wow, don't you look hot," and after closing his door we lean over for a good hug as I tell him, "You're the sexy-hot boy, Rob." He puts his seatbelt on muttering, "Thanks, baby. Well, we won both games!" Yeah, he's mentioned that before a couple of times.
As I'm driving away, I'm like, "Yes you did win both games and congratulations!" He goes, "It was a fun time except for the sleazy motel they put us up in. That wasn't too cool, but the baseball park on that campus was awesome. And attendance for both games was like a thousand students in the stands. We never come close to attracting that number at Merrimack for our home games." I go, "Maybe because there's over twenty-thousand students at that Georgia University and barely five-thousand here." He goes, "Yeah, I guess. Hey, how ya been? Did you miss me?" I say, "I've been okay and yeah, I missed you. Um, I got a small matter I'd like to run by you. You know, to see what you think." He goes, "Shoot." Hmmm, just like that? Maybe I should bring this up when I'm feeling a hundred-percent. This hangover is hanging on a little. I ask, "Did you have lunch?" He nods, "On the plane. It wasn't very good but I ate it anyway. I'm good until dinner. What's on your mind?" I go, "Ah, you know what? I'll get into it a little later. It's no big deal." At the apartment complex I again find a parking spot on our lot.
Whoop-de-fuckin'-do! That's three times in a row. While I'm helping take some of Rob's stuff inside he tells me about the games. He's still telling me intricate details about both games as we walk inside our apartment and then carry everything back to the bedroom. After we drop his stuff on the bed, Rob finishes his retelling of the games with, "So my last at bat of the second game I creamed this ball down the left field line and way the fuck out of the ballpark. Everyone in the stands oohs and ahhs but it curves foul by inches at the last second. That's what Danny told me anyway. I lost it in the lights. That was last night's game." I ask, "Did you see any sun during the day because there's been none around here since you left?" He grins, "Yeah, the weather was great. What wasn't great was being away from you." I go, "How
about a beer to celebrate your victories." He says, "Yeah, I could go for that." As we walk back to the kitchen he tells me, "We weren't allowed to have anything to drink during the trip because half the guys are under age and, ya know, we're a team, so..." I mutter, "That's dumb," and Rob mumbles, "That was the coach's logic which made no sense to us guys who are legal age. Like I said we stayed at this shitty motel and we had no wheels so we were basically fucked." Literally?
Taking a deep breath, I commit myself to a beer hoping the 'hair of the dog' logic will help me get past my hangover. Popping the caps on two bottles of Bud and passing one to Rob, he says, "On the plane ride back I learned the seniors on the team planned ahead and a couple of the guys brought fifths of vodka hidden in their luggage. Lawyer told me about it, but only after the fact!" Rob's sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar. I'm on the other side of the bar after getting the beers from the refrigerator. We tap bottles and take a swig with me saying, "Here's to your first two wins of the season, Rob," and he says, "To the team's first two wins," and we take another swallow. I go, "Okay, here's what I've been thinking, Rob. It occurred to me during the many lonely hours spent here in the apartment by myself this
weekend that...." and I tell him almost word for word everything I was thinking about last night and this morning. Bottom line being we need to let things take their normal course and not force deadlines into our relationship. The whole time I'm talking Rob sipped on his beer making eye contact with me without saying a word. When I run out of words I look at him with my eyebrows up, like: 'Well, whaddaya think?' Rob goes, "Only 186 out of 1045 societies practice monogamy? That's seems impossible." I shrug, "It's out of 1231 actually. That what it says in Wikipedia anyway, but a lot of those societies are probably small ones. It didn't give numbers of individuals in the different societies." He goes, "Jeez, it still sounds hard to believe. Are you sure you got those numbers right?" I go, "Yeah, but Rob, you're commenting on the smallest most insignificant part of my speech!" He nods his head, "Yeah, yeah, um, well I hardly know what to say about the rest, Dylan. I mean I never thought anything was, um, what you said: etched in stone. And I might add I never wanted to be in-charge of you in the first place. Um, babe, that was your idea... just like our so-called sub/dom sex is by your choice. Not that there's anything wrong with that." I'm frowning at him so he goes, "I'm definitely not trying to hurt your feelings here, Dylan; I'm really not." I mutter, "Hurt my feelings? I thought... um, never mind what I thought. You mean we see eye to eye on everything I just said?" He goes, "Absolutely! Oh man, I'm glad we had this talk. I didn't want to say anything but since you brought it up, it's a relief not to need to feel I'm responsible for everything." I get a little defensive, "You didn't need to worry about that, Rob. I mean, I never expected you to be responsible for everything. Where'd you get that crazy idea?" He bites his bottom lip and I can hardly believe this but I think he's trying not to laugh. Rob rubs his face with both hands, saying, "You're right, Dylan. It was the wrong choice of words but I'm happy we're thinking along the same exact lines now, you know, the way you just described everything.
I'm great with all of it! Seriously!" Well holy shit, what am I missing here? Did he just turn the tables on me? I nod and hold my fist out for him to bump with his as I'm mumbling, "I mean, we're still in love and all. No need to be upset." He goes, "Why would I be upset?" and he gets off the stool and comes around to hug me, saying, "We're more in love than ever, Dylan, and we have a perfect relationship," and he gives me a yummy wet kiss on the lips and then murmurs, "Oooh, you taste and smell so sexy, Dylan. I missed you so much!" Huh. I mumble, "Nothing's perfect, Rob. I missed you too." I'm not sure what just happened here. He seems thrilled with everything I said. I'll need to sort this out later. I think I got what I wanted, but then why does it seem like Rob just got what he wanted?
He cheerily asks, "Ready for another beer, babe?" I mutter, "Uh huh," and we take our second beers out to the balcony for a cigarette while Rob tells me all about the Georgia University's baseball park. I half-listen nodding my head while trying to make sense of his agreeable attitude towards eliminating all the timetables in the life-long plans he had for us. My grand design for our new relationship apparently thrills Rob no end. If I'm reading him correctly... Well yeah, but Rob's high on life after being instrumental in both team wins in Georgia so everything is peaches and cream in his mind right now. He goes, "That freshman pipsqueak who wants my starting shortstop position had very little to say about it on the plane ride back here.
Previously he'd been quite the cocky little dink. Holding no grudges though I went over to him and patted him on the shoulder and told him he'll get his chance and if I can do anything to help him along all he needs to do is ask." I mumble, "That's leadership, Rob." He goes on to tell me about how their catcher, of all people, stole third base in a key situation. I'm sort of listening but mostly I'm thinking how magnanimous Rob's attitude was towards the freshman shortstop. It would have been more magnanimous of course if he's extended a helping hand before he had those two great games.
Previously he was calling that kid an arrogant freshman who didn't know his place.
Done our second beers and finished our smokes I'm assuming Rob gonna be hot for some reunion sex, but instead he says, "You know what, Dylan?" I shrug and he goes, "I've was thinking about this on the plane. I'd like to learn about shopping for groceries and cooking. If you're willing to help me with that I'd really appreciate it." I go, "Um, sure," and he says, "Let's get to it now if it's alright with you." I'm like, "You want to go grocery shopping now?" He nods, "If you don't mind, yeah. I gotta learn how to do this stuff so all the burden's not on you all the time. And who knows when I'll need to know how to do all that stuff myself." What the fuck? As we're putting our jackets on, he goes, "Watching you cook, well I think it looks like fun." That's news to me.
Rob's driving to Stop & Shop, asking, 'What'd you do while I was gone?" Shrugging I go, "I did like five haircuts for Pony and his boys, plus Steve Church, Ryan old roommate." Rob asks, "Has Steve heard from Wilcox?" I shake my head, "Not a peep. Ryan's fucked-up in the head I'm afraid." He just nods and I half expect him to say he told me so, but he keeps it to himself.
Good on you, Rob! I hate 'I told you so' guys. Parking at Stop & Shop, Rob goes, "What else did you do?" I go, "Not much. Chub and I went out to dinner last night and did some bar hopping afterward. I had myself a mean little hangover this morning but I got over it and I'm feeling pretty good right now. Those two beers helped." All during the ride to Stop & Shop I'm trying to make sense of this new Rob.
Inside the store, Rob gets one of the small grocery carts and says, "What do we do first?" I go, "Well, just so you know for the future, Sundays are the worst possible day of the week for food shopping. The Moms send the Dads out with the kids to shop. She gets them all out of the house for some peace and quiet I suppose. The Dads don't know what the fuck they're doing so they're always on their cellphones while the kids run wild up and down the aisles screaming." Rob grins, "We could trip a few of them to slow them down a little." I go, "You are in one awesome mood, Mister Dickers." He laughs, "Yeah, I feel great. What do we do first?" We spend a half-hour shopping for next week's groceries getting extra chicken and spare ribs knowing one or two nights during the week we'll have company for dinner. We stock up on potatoes, veggies, cold cuts for sandwiches, bread, Cokes, a half-gallon of pistachio ice cream, that's actually less than a half-gallon. Also a package of Oreo cookies, two boxes of sugar coated cereal, two boxes of Dunkin' Donuts original blend K-cups, a half-quart of medium cream and a half gallon of milk, plus other odds and ends that we throw in the cart as we go up and down the aisles. I don't feel like checking all this stuff out myself so we stand in a register line.
As we're waiting for a man of about forty to have his order checked-out we watch him snarling at two rambunctious pre-school boys. Rob nods at the kids rolling his eyes, then asks, "Did you talk with your brother about this vision you have for our future?" I go, "Sort of. It's like I was having these little spells of depression-like symptoms and wondered if he ever had anything like that." Rob goes, "Did he?" I shake my head, "Nope." He goes, "Well, I'm kinda disappointed you didn't ask me about it." I'm like, "Do you have moments like that?" He goes, "No, but that's not what I meant. I meant
I wish you'd talked with me about your moments of depression." I mumble, "It wasn't really depression; that's not the right word. It was something unknown I guess you could say. Plus, I didn't talk to anyone about it because I thought it would pass," and Rob asks, "Did it pass?" I nod, "Yeah, I think so." We start unloading the over-filled little cart putting everything on the belt for the cashier. Rob mumbles, "I still wish you'd talked about your depression with me." I shrug, "I was going to but now I don't need to." He's not connecting my depression with our 'talk'. I've decided the talk went so well I'm gonna leave it at that. No sense emphasizing that my mood swings were due to Rob's timetable-stuffed plans for us. Back at the apartment we put the groceries away and Rob goes, "That was fun." I'm like, "You thought grocery shopping was fun?" He shakes his head, "No, doing it together was the fun part and now we need to do something else together. Something with us both naked together in bed." I nod, "Oh boy," and we head for the bedroom pulling our sweatshirts off over our heads.
In the bedroom, we finish getting undressed and then hug while standing next to the bed with Rob murmuring, "I liked your talk earlier, babe, and I know the reason behind it too. It's because you don't want me taking you for granted, which I've never done anyway, but I obviously need to try harder to make you see that." Huh, that wasn't why I said all those things to Rob this afternoon... or maybe it was in a way. I murmur, "I won't take you for
granted either." And that's all the talking we do for quite some time.
Instead of talking we make-out standing here naked with our arms around one another. His taut slim muscular naked body is wonderfully sexy to rub my body against. His mouth and mine fit perfectly together, our lips kissing and our tongues licking as we make-out with quiet sounds of arousal sliding out from our throats. Rob's hands on my butt cheeks are pulling me against his hardening cock, my arms around the back of his neck keeping our faces tightly together. Our noses are pushed against one another's cheek as we're inhaling the personal scent we've known so well for so long. His hot body rubbing tightly against mine feels incredible. It's thrilling being desired the way Rob makes me feel desired.
Our sounds of arousal increase the intensity of our kissing and then we take turns lapping tongues and sucking on each other's upper lip moving our faces and rubbing noses with our now hard cocks poking one another. I'm leaning into him so hard he slowly falls back onto the bed where we roll around in each other's arms getting our legs up on the bed wrestling for control until I'm on my stomach and moaning with Rob's hard cock is at my asshole and then the head's in past my sphincter. I moan and struggling some more as he's pulling my hips up a little and then with a hard thrust his fat cock goes up my ass a couple of inches with pain exploding inside me. With a whine, "Oooh," I become very docile for him as I convince myself I'm being dominated by Rob. He roughly humps in the rest of his hard-fat cock until his crotch is tightly against my buttocks. For good measure, he humps harder against my ass as pre-cum drools from my cock and I shudder at the pain that's quickly transitioning into pleasure.
Rob keeps his hands on my hips holding me tightly against his groin and humps against my buttocks again. I moan, "Mmmm, Rob, mmmm." Oh how thrilling being physically and sexually dominated! I actually had been trying to get my cock up his ass but he overpowered me. Rob reads my docile body-language and murmurs, "Good," and lets go of my hips knowing I'll keep my ass up against him. Fully impaling me with his hard-fat cock he leaves it there and casually rubs his hands up and down my sides murmuring, "Feels good, huh baby?" and another hump against my ass as I moan, "Mmmm," and shudder with chills skipping up and down my spine. Rob drags his fingernails up my back and then slowly pulls his boner out with sensations inside me feeling so good I moan again, "Oooooh, Robby, when your cock is inside me it feel so good...." Now only the fat head of his boner is inside me. Rob gives my ass a half-dozen hard slaps and my back arches as I push my ass up a little higher and feel fantastically dominated like I can't remember feeling with Robby before. My whole body shakes as my boner throbs pleasurably even with my ass stinging and hot from the spanking.
Another hard smack on my ass makes me moan his name again, "Oooh, Robby," and he starts fucking me hard and fast with those awesome, "Slapslapslap," sounds ringing in my ears as my rectum explodes with sexual pleasure and has me writhing on the mattress getting fucked roughly and excellently. My body shimmers with delightful pleasure sensations as I submissively keep my ass up high listening to the sounds of males fucking along with Rob's grunts
with each hard thrust up my ass. I don't last long as my climax comes soaring up on me with so many incredible sexy sensations shaking my brain I squeal, my hips hump with cum sizzling out in a hard stream to splatter on the bedspread and then again with my body stiff as a board and Rob humping against my buttocks shooting a long string of creamy cum into my bowels.
Almost at the same time we both collapse, as if we have no skeleton, me on the wet bedspread and Rob on my back.
We're gasping in deep lungfuls of air with our hearts pounding as Rob rubs his face slowly back and forth against the back of my head, murmuring, "I love you, Dylan. I hope you know that." He slides off my back pulling his now floppy sloppy cock from my ass. It slides wetly over my left butt cheek and then Rob nestles in tightly against me with his arm over my backs pulling me against his side. Turning my head to him, we kiss a sweet sucking kiss and then I murmur, "I know you do, Rob, and I love you right back." He kisses me again and mumbles, "Good." We lay like this looking into each other's eyes smiling little smiles like we're both quite pleased with ourselves and each other.
Lying here my shoulders do an involuntary shudder, just a little one, as I think back on that hot sex we just had. It's was awesome and after a minute or so I quietly say, "That was exceptional sex, boyfriend. I loved it.
You were so rough and tough." He grins, "I had to be because you were trying to get me on my stomach and I'm still head of this household whether we have any guarantees or not." I mumble, "We'll see about that." He opens his eyes wide raising his eyebrows with a questioning expression on his handsomely cute face, so I go, "Oh, okay, you can still be head of the household, sort of." Grinning he says, "Yeah right, but I know, and have always known, who holds the power behind the throne of 'head of the household'." I chuckle at that because I guess I know that too, but sometimes I like to forget it. I mutter, "Not really," and he says, "Yes, really, but I don't mind because everything between us always ends-up mutually agreed upon and compromised when necessary." I say, "Let's get under the covers." Without getting off the bed we rustle around getting under the covers. My stomach is wet with my own cum and my ass is wet with Rob's, but I feel really good anyway. Being naked in bed with another naked guy is just about the sexiest situation I can imagine. We're on our sides face to face with me running my fingers through the long hair on top of his head, quietly saying, "I want to be your barber and save you from further humiliating yourself with this doofus haircut Golden does for you." He goes, "Okay, but I just got this doofus haircut last week." I nod, "Yeah, but it's my turn to be your barber the next time you need a haircut." He nods, saying, "And you need a haircut right now. We'll do it a little later." I go, "Okay, if you say so, but don't use the thinning scissors so much this time." He grins, muttering, "I will if I want to," and he takes a page out of John Smith's book by getting a fistful of my hair pulling my head over so my face is against his. I say, "You smell good," and we do a long wet sloppy kiss that ends with Robby licking his wet perfect tongue up the front of my nose. I sputter a little, then say, "Oooh, you haven't done that in a long time," and then I rub the back of my hand on my nose.
Rob pushes my hand away, grinning, "No! You need to leave my saliva there as a symbol of my renewed efforts to get you back under my thumb. I'm on a new crusade in that regard." I go, "Ha!" jeez, it's funny but I haven't felt this good about us for a while and that surprises me, maybe even scares me for a second, and then I tell him. "I haven't felt we've been this close for a while. Do you know what I mean?" He bites his bottom lip and then sort of shrugs, "I'm not sure I do," and I go, "That's understandable because I'm not sure exactly what I mean either." He murmurs, "I know I feel a great love for you, and I feel that love coming back to me. It's a pretty fucking good feeling." To demonstrate he's right about me loving him back I ask him to tell me about the hits he got in the first two baseball games of the year. He snorts out a laugh, saying, "That is so sweet of you, Dylan! Giving me the opening to tell you again all about how fabulous I was in those games," and as I grin he tells me about the team's wins in even more detail than he told me the first time. I don't know how he remembers but he tells me every pitch of every at bat he had and then, grinning like mad, when he's done telling me that, he goes, "Let me tell you about my fielding highlights now." I nod and listen for a few seconds before faking huge yawns, which doesn't deter him so I put my mouth on his and we start making-out again.
This time I don't try getting him on his stomach because I want to feel his cock fucking me again and eventually he does, but slowly this time and for much longer than our earlier sex when we were on top of the bedspread.
Constant steady thrusting of his fat hard cock in my previously open-up rectum without any pain to contrast with the exquisite pleasure I'm feeling. We fuck for fifteen-to-twenty-minutes with me aroused so much my second orgasm
seems right on the verge of blowing almost from the start but it doesn't quite get to the point of no return until finally it boils-over and we climax together shaking and moaning and then hug afterwards with me again laying in my own cum and then spreading some of it on Rob. His cum is smeared over both my butt cheeks by the time we let go of each other and I mumble, "How about a shower, Rob?" He nods and we take a shower together bathing each other. Everything just seems better and somehow new between us, or maybe it's just me, but whatever it is I feel really good about Rob and me.
Wearing pajamas we snuggle on the sofa watching a spring training Red Sox game on TV even though we don't know most of the minor league players in the game. When the game is over, Rob goes, "You want your haircut now?" I feel the shivers of anticipation I always get when I'm about to get a haircut, especially from Rob, so I nod and say, "I'll get the toiletry kit." Rob pulls over a stool and pushes the table against the wall. When I get on the stool and start unbuttoning my pajama top, Rob says, "I'll use the cape, babe. We just had a shower a little while ago." I say, "No, I like feeling the cut hairs hit my shoulders," and I finish taking off the PJ top as Rob mutters, "The head of this household doesn't carry much weight." I look at him and he smirks... but we don't use the cape.
I refrain from doing any barbershop back-seat-driving while Rob's doing my haircut although there are a few things I could comment on that he does the wrong way. Instead I enjoy the buzzing sensations in my nuts caused by my haircut fetish. Rob uses the thinning scissors too much again and it almost gives me an orgasm from hearing the "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch," sounds of the scissors cutting through my thick dry hair. I probably would have had an orgasm except I already had two of them in the last couple of hours.
Nice ones too! Then something occurs to mean I go, "Hey, Rob, you had curly hair when I first met you, didn't you?" He goes, "My hair was long back then, but yeah it was curly. Huh, I wonder if it would still be curly if I ever had long hair again?" I say, "Who knows, but keep that in mind when you're cutting the wave out of my fucking hair." He mutters, "You talk about hair too much, which is so gay." He doesn't know I have a haircut fetish, but gee, I can picture Robby four years ago, with curly endings to his longish hair. Talk about cute!!
When done, Rob's looking at the finished haircut, saying, "Goddammit! I did better last time." Ever the perfectionist, he adds, "I should be getting better at this by now." He's sincerely upset with himself but checking my haircut using the handheld mirror and the mirror over the bathroom sink I can't see any difference from the last haircut he gave me three weeks ago. I yell in from the bathroom, "It's fine, Rob. I think it looks good." He comes in to stand behind me and then puts his arm over my shoulders and around the front of my throat pulling my head back until it's side-by-side with his, murmuring, "Thank you for saying that, Dylan," and he kisses the side of my face. I feel so good!
Then a little later Robby's apparently serious about learning to cook as he stands next to me asking questions while I make a meatloaf. He says, "Damn, I never knew so many ingredients went into a meatloaf." We peel potatoes together and snip off the ends of string beans and then put a salad together and make homemade Russian dressing for it. While the meatloaf bakes and the potatoes simmer to later become whipped potatoes we have another beer and a smoke on the balcony. I feel the closeness again and can hardly believe it was my talk that's responsible for our renewed interest in one another, but what else could it be? Maybe it's only me who feels better about us.
Not the love part though; I'd been very much in love with Rob before our talk. I think it's the liking part that's increased. Sometime I forget that part. The part where you really like being with someone even more maybe than you love someone. I don't know for sure though....
Then the last weeks of our junior year goes by without anything out of the
ordinary happening. Rob and I continue the friendship and lovers trend that started that Sunday after the 'talk'. He continued with his interest in cooking too and he goes on to have the best season batting and fielding he's ever had. The freshman who was trying to get Rob's starting shortstop position only got in two games replacing Rob in later inning of a blowout game where Merrimack was blowing out a team and then a game where Merrimack was losing big. Rob had a great season personally, but the team was just average overall and didn't make the playoffs. My side-sex life didn't get better or worse these last six weeks. It was usually once a week with an ever increasingly dominant sex buddy in John Smith and an ever increasingly submissive sex buddy in Daryl Ponti. I love Pony as a fun-friend first of all, and a hot-bodied 'bottom' side-sex buddy second of all. We had some really good buddy sex the last six weeks. Not that it wasn't good before. It got hotter with Pony as I got to liking being a 'top' more and more. As a 'bottom' I had one more chance with Dennis-big-cock-Raymond in his box truck last week. He'll be a freshman here at Merrimack next fall, so I'm thinking maybe I haven't had the last sex with him. We're likely to pick it up again in the fall. He's taking a couple of summer courses starting in three or four weeks. I'm not even sure how often I'd want to have side-sex with him though. In any case, I've managed during the year to have some good side sex with guys I like, it didn't happen as often as I'd like, but it was pretty fucking good anyway. Oversexed you say?
Rob continued mostly 'topping' with our frequent sex but once or twice a week I'd switch places with him. Excellent sex with Rob and I suppose he continued getting fucked by Danny too, and by whoever else during the weekend he'd go home for 'work'. I'm thinking Greg Peters, but that's just conjecture on my part at this point. I stayed at college the two weekends Rob was at home. I went out to dinner with Chubby again. He checked-up on me the week after our last dinner together and asked, "How are thing, bro?" I said, "Peachy, bro," and he gave me a look so I added, 'Really, Chub, it's all good." That's all he needed to hear. He can read me like a book and knew I was being truthful.
Rob kept us on schedule study-wise, so our final exams were painless. Both of us did good on all the exams. After the final final-exam Rob and I went out celebrating with Danny, Golden, Chub, John Beverly, and three other ballplayers including Lawyer Ross, who I gave a second haircut to the day before last exam. At one of the bars we hooked-up with Danny's roommate, Phil Catchings, and Steve Church who still hasn't heard from his old roommate, Ryan. Neither have I. I'd said my goodbyes to John Smith but ran into him last night at Joe Blair's bar although we didn't have a chance for one last extra 'smoke' together.
After the celebration, everyone had a ridiculous hangover yesterday morning. Rob and I just lay around the apartment all day recovering. Waking up today feeling a lot better except Rob and I spent the whole morning packing up and getting ready for summer break. It's a Wednesday the second week in May and a fairly nice spring day for once. Moving day is never fun though, so we don't spend a lot of time thinking about the weather. Chubby drives over and we manage to get a lot of my stuff in the Jeep along with Chubby's stuff, but a lot goes in Rob's pickup too. Finally it's time to leave and the three of us stand here looking at one another like, 'Have we forgotten anything?' When we decide we haven't Rob and I hug with him saying, "I'll call you tomorrow, Dylan." Chub and Rob bump fists and do a quick one-arm hug.
I get in the Jeep's driver's seat as Chub get in the passenger seat. I beep the Jeep's horn, "toot-toot,' gets a wave from Rob and we're off to start our last summer break before our senior year... and then our real lives start after that.
THE END (of Dylan's Junior Year at College). Thank you for reading my story!
The next series starting shortly is: 'DYLAN'S SUMMER FOLLOWING HIS JUNIOR COLLEGE YEAR'. Watch for it.
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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