Dylans Junior Year Summer

DYLAN'S SUMMER FOLLOWING HIS COLLEGE JUNIOR YEAR

Chapter 20

by Donny Mumford

As we're getting out of the car at the Dickers' house, Danny goes, "Whoa, look at that big-ass motorcycle! Who do you suppose owns that?" I say, "It's Dodger's, Rob's brother. He rode it from Las Vegas." Walking up the driveway we can hear talking coming from the backyard. Danny mumbles, "Dodger, huh? Yeah, I remember him from many summers ago. Funny name... Dodger. Um, he was in the Army, right?" I go, "Yeah, he got an early discharge from active duty, but now he needs to do two years in the Army Reserves." Danny asks, "Have you seen him since he got back?" I go, "Yes, a couple of times." Apparently, Rob doesn't spend a lot of time talking about his brother to Danny. I think Robby is pretty closed-mouth about everything, which is an admirable personality trait in my book.

Danny grins at me and squeezes the back of my neck, saying, "You always look so, um, neat. It makes me want to muss your hair or something." and he ruffles my hair adding, "Sorry. You're fun to touch." I frown, muttering, "Get real," and finger-comb my hair. What the hell, Danny's big on touching but I don't really mind. I find him to be kind of an affectionate guy in a nice friendship kind of way. Something I never knew about him because we're just recently getting to know each other.

He stops to light a cigarette and, while exhaling, mumbles, "I forget the details, but didn't that fucking brother of his caused Rob a lot of trouble? His parents too I believe. A few years ago, I mean." I'm remembering how Danny caused Rob a lot of trouble too. He quit Rob's grass cutting crew early last summer. Danny was supposed to live with the Dickers all summer while his Mom and Dad were going through their divorce. Of course, Danny supposedly living with Rob was the main reason I was in Georgia and only heard about Danny's early exit from Rob's crew later on. Hmmm, maybe that's when Mrs. Dickers got her crush on Danny or whatever it has she has for him. It's something and maybe it happened the couple of weeks he lived with them. Without bringing that up, I mumble, "I think the brothers have reconciled their differences." Danny goes, "Ya know, I was too harsh about Rob's brother a minute ago. I don't really know him or what happened between him and the family. I shouldn't have been so critical. Just sticking up for Rob I guess."

We continue up the drive to the backyard-gate where Danny sees Dodger and puts his hand on my chest to stop us outside the gate. Dodger's facing us sitting at the outdoor table, but not looking at us. Danny murmurs, "Jeez, he's, um, a good-looking fuck, huh, and tall?" I go, "He's only an inch or so taller than you or me but he's slim and looks taller I guess." Danny just nods his head, apparently taken aback a little at how well Dodger turned out. He barely knew him when Dodger was twelve or thirteen. Finally I mumble, "Dodger resembles Rob, don'cha think?" Danny shakes his head, "No, not really, but he's awfully, um, good-looking and, um, sexy. I'm assuming he's 'straight'; he sure looks 'straight'." I mutter, "Gee, yeah, he does look straight," as I open the gate.

The Dickers family, all four of them, are sitting around the outdoor table, the round one with the big blue umbrella opened over it on this sunny day. Rob and Dodger have beer bottles in front of them while Mr. and Mrs. Dickers are drinking what appears to be gins and tonics. The slices of lime are the reason I'm guessing they're having gin and tonic drinks. Gin and tonics are made with a gruesome concoction of bitter stuff and I can't say I recommend that particular cocktail but perhaps they're just right for Rob's parents. No, what a horrible thing to say!

Rob holds his hand up and goes, "There they are. We didn't think you were gonna make it." We walk over as Danny cups his cigarette and says, "We had some fun this afternoon. First a fight and then we played some half-court basketball." They're like, "A fight?" and Mrs. Dickers goes, "Omigod, you boys and your fighting! Are you alright, Danny?" He goes, "Yes, I'm fine, Mrs. D.." Yeah, I'm fine too, Mrs. D.. To Danny she says, "Good, but please put that cigarette out." Danny mutters, "Oh, sorry," and looks around for a place to put it out, finally settling on flicking off the lit head and putting the rest of the cigarette in his pocket.

Rob's like, "Well, what happened? How'd you get in a fight?" I let Danny tell his version. He puts his arm across my shoulders, saying, "I'll give you the Cliffs Notes version: walking up to the basketball court we see three guys from the high school baseball team we were on, Rob. Anyway, they're shooting hoops, Dylan loses his cool and throws a punch at one of the guys and I had to jump in to save Dylan's life." He looks over at me with a gleam in his eyes, smirking, so I go, "Yeah, that's exactly what happened." Mrs. Dickers goes, "Dylan, you're damn lucky Danny was with you." I mumble, "Yes, that's what Danny told me." Rob's like, "Really?"

Mr. Dickers says, in a bored voice, "You both look like you survived the fight pretty well." I go, "I lost three buttons off my shirt, but yeah, it wasn't much of a fight." Rob asks, "How'd it end?" I shrug, "After about thirty-seconds a baseball coach from high school came along and broke it up." Rob ask Danny, "Which coach," and Danny goes, "Coach Rush." Rob's like, "Oh yeah, he was a pretty good guy." and they go on to tell a couple of glory-day stories involving past victories from high school baseball games.

Mrs. Dickers get up from the table, an empty cocktail glass in her hand, and says, "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I've got to prepare some food or we'll never eat dinner." She looks at Mr. Dickers, saying, "Robert, you haven't even started the grill yet." There's a subtle hint if I've ever heard one. In a monotone, Mr. Dickers says, "Yes, I realize that, Emily. Dodger's going to take me around the block on his motorcycle," and she goes, "Omigod, you're too old for that." Dodger says, "No he's not, Mom, and neither are you. You're never too old for a motorcycle." His Dad says, "He's right, Em. Surely you've seen groups of old fat gray-haired-hippies riding their 'hogs' with their gray ponytails flying in the wind behind them?" She goes, "Ugh! Yes, now that you mention it. Awful, but you're not a left-over hippy." Then she says to Danny, "Can you give me a hand with these glasses and beer bottles?" Eager to please, Danny, nods his head, "Oh, of course, Mrs. D."

Getting up from his chair Mr. Dickers waves his hand dismissively at his wife, saying to Dodger, "C'mon son, let's fire-up at that machine of yours." Dodger grins at me and, as he's getting up from the table, Mrs. Dickers flashes Dodger a disapproving 'look' and goes inside followed by Danny. Huh, I'm relieved to see that Dodger, actually all of them are apparently more or less starting fresh and moving on, putting the past behind them. Or at least on the surface that's what they're doing. As he walks past me, Dodger pats my shoulder giving me his cute smirk. My ass puckers as I watch him leave the yard.

Robby gets up and stands next to me lighting a cigarette with his Mom calling from inside the screen door, "No cigarettes near the house!" Ignoring that Rob exhales his first drag and passes me the cigarette, asking, "You okay, babe, really?" I take a drag and pass the cigarette back to him, mumbling, "Yeah, it was no big deal, Rob. This guy, Mike-somebody, said some rude things about me and Chub, some of which I took offense." He asks, "Mike? Was it Mike Gross?" I shrug and Danny, back out to get more glasses and a bowl with a few disgusting looking cheese-soaked nachos stuck to the side, says, "Yeah, Rob, it was that asshole, Mike Gross. He was a bully in high school and he still is." Rob mumbles, "Damn, I wish I was there. I'd love to knock out a couple of his teeth. I gotta admit though he was a hell of a pitcher." Danny nods his head, and then asks, "You want a beer, Dylan," I go, "Yeah, thanks, Danny," and he carries the bowl and two beer bottles inside. Rob points at my shirt, "Look, your shirt's ripped where a button was torn loose." I shrug at that although I'm actually pissed-off because I liked this damn shirt.

Flicking my fingers at the rip in my shirt, I mutter, "My own fault. I should have changed clothes after brunch." He goes, "Oh, you had brunch, huh? That explains your dressy clothes. I didn't think you got dressed-up to see me." I grin 'cause he looks good enough to eat. He goes, "Tell me something, did Danny help you out with more than just the fight?" I go, "Do you really want me to spell it out for you?" He shakes his head, "No, that tells me all I need to know and I'm glad. Hell, I suggested it." I go, "That was nice of you, Rob," and he says, "Honestly, I got to feeling bad that I couldn't be with you like that, and even though I know Dodger and you got, um, reacquainted on Tuesday, you and I are used to regular, you know, sexual outlets. So, I thought Danny and you could sort of help each other out. He's missing his boyfriend too. Ironic, huh?" Robby looks exhausted but I don't mention it. Poor guy isn't recovering very quickly.

I take the cigarette from him and after exhaling, mutter, "That was actually a pretty fucking magnanimous suggestion of yours and about me and Danny." He shrugs, saying, "You and Danny becoming better friends is a good thing too. I'm really hoping we can all be close friends. The four of us, including Hayden, who I'm not crazy about but Danny's stuck on him so I guess he must be okay." I say, "Actually, Danny and I have never had a problem with one another." He nods, "Yeah but, ya know, you've never been real friends either. I'm hoping the four of us can start doing things together, and I don't mean," and he leans close to me lowering his voice, although we're the only two out here, "I don't mean sexual things. I mean the four of us doing guy stuff together and be a tight group go friends. We're," and he lowers his voice again, "Gay friends and we should be tight and stick together. Maybe become life-long friends." Nice sentiment I guess. I say, "You okay, Rob? You look really tired." He says, "I am really tired but Goddammit I should be better by now."

Danny comes out the back door with a beer for me and one for himself, asking, "What are you two whispering about?" Glancing at the back door, Rob quietly says, "Just talking about how us gay guys need to stick together." Danny puts an arm across Rob's shoulders again and squeezes him so tightly Rob's left foot goes up on my toes. Grinning at me, Danny says to Rob, "I think Dylan and I are bonding very nicely. Right, Dylan?" I say, "Yeah, we are," and he lets go of Rob's shoulders. Rob grins at Danny, and says, "Yeah, well that's cool, but don't you two, um, over-bond, if you know what I mean." We all snicker as Danny mumbles, "No over-bonding. Got it, Rob."

Actually I do sense a new closeness among the three of us, especially me and Danny and I like it... it feels nice. Danny and I spending time together while visiting Rob is allowing us to know each other, certainly much better than we did before. I also think I know what Rob means about being with gays guys and how it's got a different vibe to it. Our 'straight' friends are great too, just different. Certainly, we talk about different things when we're with 'straight' friends even when they know we're gay. It's a small point and not worth bringing up, the idea of us becoming good friends I think was originally Danny's.

We talk more about the so-called fight, the skirmish as Rob calls it, and then we talk about the half-court game we played and how Coach Rush still has some moves on the basketball court even though he's gotta be in his late thirties or early forties. Rob goes, "Oh man, I can't wait to be a hundred percent again so I can get in the game too." I'm pretty sure he means both 'games', although he's sort of been in the 'gay game' if I'm right about Danny fucking Rob earlier today. That had to be a wet cum spot on the back of Rob's shorts.

Danny talks again about the openings on the summer baseball team and they talk about Rob playing on the team this summer and how I should try-out too. They both think it'd be awesome if all four of us could be on the same team. I don't want to be the wet blanket here so I don't protest although I saw some of those games late last summer and I'm simply not good enough to make the team. Plus, I don't see how the hell Rob expects to play baseball in his condition.

Dodger and Mr. Dickers are back from their motorcycle ride coming through the backyard gate laughing about something. Jesus, I think this is the first time I've seen Mr. Dickers laugh that hard, or laugh at all. It looks like Dodgers winning them all over and I'm happy about that. Dodgers' very casual and low key about everything and appears as comfortable as it's possible to be, so good for all of them.

The grill gets fired-up and we all drink some more beers and then Mrs. Dickers brings out various side-dishes and sets them up for self-service on a side table while Mr. Dickers cooks the ribs. The sweet and spicy barbecue sauce he makes from scratch, but then doesn't brush it on the ribs until just before serving because the sugar in the barbecue sauce would burn black on the grill. A little grilling tip there. When everything is said and done we don't sit down to eat until after seven o'clock, more than an hours later than anticipated, but everyone's in a good mood. The six of us just fit around the outside table eating, talking, and drinking our drinks with some laughter thrown in for good measure.

Maybe it's because Dodger is so casually comfortable tonight, but I can't remember ever feeling this comfortable myself with Rob's parents, but then I don't believe they've ever been this sociable before, especially Mr. Dickers. Of course, both parents are fairly well hammered from the numerous gin and tonics they've both had all afternoon, so that's a factor I suppose. Mostly though I think much of the convivial mood is compliments of Dodger who has managed to smooth things over without anyone needing to say they're sorry even though both sides have legitimate reasons for saying they're sorry. I will say there are topics noticeably absent from the conversation. No mention of the singular 'son' being part of the company's name, Dickers and Son Inc. Also no apartment or Army talk. And no talks about how fast Dodger's spending his winnings. Somehow everyone knows intuitively not to bring up those topics.

The current summer baseball league is again the topic of conversation, mostly about Rob's possible participation. Mr. Dickers, of all people, is saying there shouldn't be any reason Rob couldn't be on the team when he's fully healed. He tells us that everyone in Westborough is satisfied with Rob's replacement there and I think he's sincere when Mr. Dickers claims he's sorry Rob's disappointed he won't be able to participate. His Dad adds, "Rob, that young man, Neal Trenton, has impressed me and Art Kyle. You know Art is heading-up that project, right?" Rob mutters, "Yeah, I know Art, but that intern, Neal, is a suck-up, Dad." His father goes, "Yes, I see some of that, sure. Art's insisting he needs the guy full time though and he's asked me to assign Neal there for the whole summer. Just so you know, Art sees the job as basically a gofer-job, Rob." Rob shrugs and his Dad goes, "But listen, they'll be plenty of big projects, better projects than that one, that you'll be involved with in the future. For this summer though, join the baseball team and enjoy your last college summer, Son." Rob mumbles, "I really wanted that Goddamn job although I didn't know it'd be mostly 'gofer' work. Do you mean Neal won't be working back in our office at all?" His Dad nods, "It wasn't expected to be like that, but it's Art's call so, yeah, Neal's strictly working in Westborough for the entire summer." Rob glances at me and then back at his Dad, saying, "Well, I wouldn't want to be in Westborough all fuc... all friggin' summer!"

I'm thinking this work topic is becoming tedious and Danny apparently thinks so too because as soon as there's a pause in that conversation, Danny jumps-in with, "Rob, you're basically on the team already. I talked to the summer league coach and he recognized your name of course. He said, 'Bring him around!' meaning I should bring you to tomorrow's practice." Rob mumbles, "I don't see how I could show up tomorrow!" Danny goes, "Whenever, you don't even need to try-out is what I'm saying. With Hayden, that's another story. He'll need to try-out." Rob just nods his head, apparently still disappointed the Westborough job turned-out like it did. I think he was enamored by the idea of going on business trips every other week, staying in hotels and having an expense account. Hell, I'd like that too.

It's quiet for a few seconds before Dodger, who has had nothing to say about the Westborough project one way or the other, changes the subject again with, "Well guys, I made my last big purchase today." Mrs. Dickers, whose been unusually quiet too, wipes the edge of her mouth with a napkin, asking, "Oh, what'd you buy now?" He goes, "A car. The motorcycle is fine during the summer but I need a car too. I bought a Mini Cooper at the Boston dealership today. Well, I put a down payment to hold it. Tomorrow I make the final purchase with a bank draft of the exact amount." Everyone has a comment about that but they're all encouraging and congratulatory in nature, not negative. I'll bet dollars to donuts both his parents are biting their tongues to keep from asking if Dodger has anything from the hundred-thousand left.Of course, they don't know Dodger has another two-hundred-thousand in the bank.

So, Dodger and Vinnie were in Boston buying the car today, and probably doing other things there as well, which explains why we didn't see Dodger until later this afternoon. I'm getting antsy to head for home. I only had four beers all evening and I didn't finish two of them before they got warm and I poured out the warm beer, so I'm in good shape. It's a work day tomorrow so I say my goodbyes around nine-thirty and then drive the pickup home. I'll be back tomorrow morning to get Robby at seven-thirty. He wanted me to be here at seven and I was thinking it should be closer to eight. We compromised on seven-thirty. When I take the bus to work I don't even leave the house until eight o'clock, but Rob likes to be in the office early.

Parking at the curb below our condo I'm feeling good. I liked almost everything about today. Sure, it started off shaky with a hangover at Dodger's place but my day turned around quickly after I got a couple of extra hours sleep at home. From there everything kept getting better and better from the brunch with Chubby and our family to my visit with Rob even though he had that cum-spot on the back of his shorts, and then I really liked sex with Danny even though it was quite different from what I expected, and finally the way everyone was intent on getting along at the Dickers' dinner tonight. Good food and, surprisingly, almost a stress-free time even with Mr. and Mrs. Dickers there.

Inside my condo I'm like, 'Oh, what's this? Hmmm, a note from my Mom?' She writes that I shouldn't expect her home tonight and that she loves me. Jesus, what a tramp she's turning into... ha ha. Not! I'm very happy she's happy and I'm very fond of Thomas Rider too. He's an almost perfect fiancé for Mom and it's good that they like to spend their nights together occasionally. I don't want to think too specifically about that obviously, but it is the natural order of things. My Mom and Chub's Mom have always been happy, upbeat women with positive-attitudes, but truly this past year they've both been happier than ever before. Ain't love grand!

In my bathroom brushing my teeth, wearing only my jockey shorts, I'm thinking about that sex with Danny. I'd forgotten all about my sore ass because somewhere along the way it lost its soreness. But what if it hadn't? That could have complicated things. I mean if I was going, 'Ow, ow' when we were just starting, how would I explain my sore, over-fucked ass to Danny? Heh heh, especially since he thinks I'm inexperience with side-sex. Robby knows better of course, but obviously he has never advised Danny of that.

My rectum was fine although Danny's and my sexual experience had some surprises for me. Mainly I was surprised that Danny's apparently not all that experienced with side-sex. And what unusual side-sex it was too! Jesus, Danny does side-sex, at least with me, closer to lover's sex than buddy-sex. Maybe that's the only way he has sex with anybody, in which case whoever he has side-sex with is going to think Danny's much fonder of them than he probably is. Or maybe he actually is that fond of me. See, this is why I need to get Hayden into a discussion about his sex with Danny.

Here's another thing. If Danny does sex with Hayden like he did it with me, well that might be the reason Hayden thinks he's in love with Danny. Yeah but Hayden already told me he doesn't think that's how Danny feels about him. He surmises that if Danny's in love with anyone, it's probably with Rob. So ya see, the four of us could have ourselves a very complicated relationship should we becoming the close friends who do a lot of things together like Rob and Danny envision. And then there's my current hot infatuation for Hayden. Still, being a close-knit-foursome is intriguing and I'm liking the idea of us being closer buddies. So, Danny was right when he claimed Rob's appendectomy had a silver lining, although it may have created a bit of a tinderbox situation too with all the possible side-sex that could happen.

Rinsing my mouth out, I stop everything to listen because I think I heard something in the condo. The front door locks on its own, so hmmm? I walk into my bedroom and then hear my cellphone ringing in the kitchen. Oh, maybe that's what I heard. I left it on the kitchen bar when I first came in. I get to it before it goes to voicemail and see the caller ID: Dodger Dickers. Huh, my hand goes to my ass on its own for a second, and then I'm like, "Hello, Dodger?" He goes, "Hey Dylan. Did you think someone borrowed my cellphone?" I go, "Why do you say that?" and he chuckles, "Because you definitely included a question mark while saying my name." I go, "Oh, I guess I'm surprised you're calling." He's like, "Is your Mom home?" I go, "Um, well no, she isn't. She's staying the night with a friend. Um, why?" He chuckles, "Oh, no reason. Can I come over?" Oh boy! I take a deep breath and say, "Of course," and he asks, "Do you feel like screwing around?" Okay! Now wait a second! This is the perfect time for me to get on top of things by saying something like, 'Damn, I'm beat tonight, Dodger. Can I take a rain check?' That way I'd establish that it's not automatic that every time Dodger feels like it that I'll go along with him. Put some mystery in it for him. I go, "Well yeah, c'mon over." He goes, "Ha ha, I'm parked at the curb. I'll be right up." Huh, he knew I'd say 'yes' and I think what I primarily heard in the bathroom was his motorcycle's mufflers roaring, not the ringing cellphone.

Oh jeez, now I'm jittery for some reason. Then I look down and realize I'm only wearing underpants. He'll think I took off my clothes in anticipation of his visit! Goddammit, why does shit like this always happen to me. And there's the knock on the door already! Oh fuck, too late. I open the door, saying, "I was like this when you called, Dodger. I didn't take off my..." He has an armload of clothes as he smiles putting a finger to my lips, saying, "Ya wanna do our regular sex routine?" Well basically it's his sex routine but I nod my head too fast and we walk to the bedroom where I pull my underpants off and lay my chest on the bed with my ass sticking up to be spanked. Okay, I admit I love this shit! Dodger drops the arm-load of clothes he carried in with him on the desk chair, clothes he borrowed from me last Tuesday. They're all washed and folded. He says, "Thank you for letting me borrow these clothes, Dylan."

Fuck, my heart's beating fast and my dick feels funny. This is so different from Danny and me this afternoon. Dodger gets undressed, saying, "The entire time we were all sitting around the table in the back yard I was thinking that maybe you and me could do this tonight. I waited ten minutes after you left before leaving, plus Danny was leaving then too, so it's cool," and "SMACK!" on my ass and I look back and see he's naked, and there's that fire-hydrant fat cock of his. He grins and says, "That'll do for tonight's spanking. I don't understand the allure you have with being spanked." I rub my ass standing up, saying, "It's a mystery to me too. Maybe it was programmed into my brain when I was first introduced to gay sex."

Dodger, standing behind me, puts his arms around me pulling my back against his chest. My buttocks bang against his genitals as he's saying, "Yeah, how did your first gay sex happen? I don't recall you ever telling me." I go, "Oh it was weird. I'll tell you sometime, but not now." He turns me around and I drop to my knees anxious to suck his cock. Dodger smells really clean, like he showered just before going over to his parent's place. Taking his flaccid cock in my fingers, I ask him, "Don't you get turned-on at all by spanking your submissive sex partners?" He says, "Not even a little bit. Like I told you, I don't fucking understand it." I mutter, "Me neither," and then, after pushing back the foreskin it's, "Slurp, slurp, slurp," sounds from me as I suck the fat head of his cock.

Ironically Dodger's foreskin is longer than most I've seen while his penis is not. Although it has a lot of girth to it, his dick is under the average length at slightly over four-inches. Foreskin, for guys who don't have much of one, is a retractable sheath. A doubled-layered fold made up of smooth muscle tissue, blood vessels, neurons, skin, and mucous membranes. The outside of the foreskin is simply a continuation of penis skin while the underside is a mucous membrane much like the underside of an eyelid. If a guy doesn't have much foreskin it's because his parents for religious or other reasons had it removed. The other reasons usual consists of a parent figuring: Everyone has it done, right? No, not right. Circumcision is an ancient practice that has religious origins that's now too often done routinely in America from ignorance. That's a shame too because the foreskin makes a nice hood for the head of a penis. There are some possible problems associated with foreskin but mostly they can be avoided by simply pulling it back and rinsing it with warm water in the shower. I find it's fun to have a friend help me with that. If you neglect washing under the foreskin something called smegma may develop. Dodger doesn't have that, that smegma stuff. His foreskin is clean and healthy looking.

After sucking the head of his cock for a minute I pull the foreskin back over the head and stroke his cock by pulling the foreskin over-and-off-the-head, back and forth with the mucous membrane on the inner side making for a smooth trip both ways. The foreskin also makes penetration easier and provides a gliding action for thrusting. I prefer uncircumcised guys for anal sex although I make do with the others as well. Uncircumcised cock heads usually have a darker red color and are shiny with mucosa. Circumcised Caucasian's penis heads are pale pink with like a matte finish. They're okay but, ya know, if I have my choice... Also, there are between 20,000 and 70,000 nerve ending in the foreskin depending on which study you choose to believe. They add pleasure to the 'top' but none for me when I 'bottom' so mostly I don't care about those nerve endings unless I'm the 'top'.

Still stoking his hardening penis, I put some of it back in my warm mouth to lick and suck on it. I hear some breathy breathing so I assume Dodger's enjoying me stimulating his dick with my mouth and hand, and I like doing it quite a bit as well. My dick's getting hard almost as quickly as his. A louder grunt from Dodger now as he pulls my hair to move my head back while he's pulling his cock out of my mouth. A saliva/pre-cum string connects my mouth and the head of his cock so I wipe it away with my hand before it can drift down wetly across my chin and onto my neck. Dodger takes a deep breath and then mutters, "A little more," stepping forward again. I guide his boned-up-cock back into my mouth and push my head forward forcing the head into my throat, bulging it out under my chin. Bobbing on and off the head a number of times gets Dodger stepping back and again pulling his boner from my mouth. This time there's a thicker string of his precut and saliva. I wipe that away too as Dodger nods to the bed.

Quick as a cat I'm on my knees on the mattress with my face on the pillow and my ass sticking way up for him. I get aroused sucking cock but I also get turned-on during sex by being the submissive partner. It was submissive of me to immediately get in this 'bottom' position Dodger's been insisting on. I'm like a trained seal in that regard awaiting my treat. Yep, that's the submissiveness in me, and I'm like that without Dodger needing to be any more dominant than the inherent dominance involved in being the 'top'. A 'top' has inferred dominance in my mind. How could it not? I'm a willing submissive partner during sex so I help along the submissive sense in my head in order to further my pleasure. Dodger doesn't do classic sub/dom sex and he never has, although sex has to be done his way. At least when he and I do it and that goes back to our first time together. I was seventeen and Dodger fifteen as he stalked me in the pool and then pulled my swimsuit down with me fighting him off until he got his boner up my ass. From then on, I was docile for him while he fucked me hard. Awesome! That was absolutely fantastic sex in the swimming pool.

Dodger gets up behind me on the bed and rubs my ass, murmuring, "Ready for this, Dylan?" I look back at him, the side of my face on the pillow, as I murmur, "Uh huh," and he gives my ass a mighty smack, "SMACK!" mumbling, "Me too." Even though I know what to expect, his first two hard thrust up my ass cause pain and so do the three withdrawals and hard follow-up thrusts. Pain yes, but my rectum is becoming adjusted to this and the nerve endings soon turn to pleasure... and then it's hard fast, "Slapslapslap," sounds in the bedroom as his hard, fat cock slides very tightly back and forth in my rectum with his groin slapping against my butt cheeks creating the music of anal sex!

The thrusting stimulates as many, if not more, nerve endings in my rectum than he has in his own thrusting hard fat cock. It's a breath-taking experience that usually lasts less than five-minutes, the majority of that time without even a memory of the earlier pain... and then the climax. I felt Dodger's hard steam of cum splash off my inners first, while my climax waited until he was thrusting in my cum-filled ass another thirty seconds and then my squeal with sensations bursting all over me, an intense explosion all around my pelvic region. Just an overwhelmingly satisfying sexual experience as pleasure sours around my body. And then it's over.

Hmmm, the newness is wearing off some so the thrill has lessened noticeably. Still awesome, but not as awesome as the first few times we did it this way and as crazy a thought as this may be: I think I'm tired of doing side-sex. I need lover's sex with Robby. Side-sex is seeming more and more like just going through the motions. Fuck, I can hardly believe I'm thinking like this.

Dodger's pulled his dick out of my ass and is standing next to me as I slowly push my legs out and lie flat on the bed in my own cum. He puts his hand on my back and rubs up and down my spine, asking, "Dylan, do you think it's time for us to try a new position?" How perceptive! I turn my head to look at him and avoid the question by saying, "I'm lying in my own cum again." He snickers, "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm thinking I've worn-out the novelty of fucking this way. Whaddaya think?" I go, "Yeah, I guess, but I get a submissive sense automatically getting in the position you want." Shaking his head slowly, he goes, "I don't understand how you are submissive when I'm not dominant?"

Pushing myself up off the mattress and then sitting on the edge of my bed, I mutter, "You're dominant, and you know it." He sits next to me, asking, "Is my brother dominant?" I mumble, "That's for Rob and me to know." He pats my shoulder, "You're right. My bad for snooping. Hey, I wanted to see you tonight, um, alone. I'm sorry to tell you I'm flying out tomorrow afternoon." I look at him, "To California?" He nods, "Yep, Josh needs my help with something so I'll be going sooner than I expected or wanted to go. Maybe for two weeks." I go, "Oh shit. I'm just getting used to having you around again, and now you're off already." He shrugs, "Not ideal for me either, and I can say the same about getting reacquainted with you too, but I'm hoping it won't be longer than two weeks." I'm dying to know what kind of help Josh needs but if Dodger wants me to know he'll tell me. I'm not big on interrogating people.

This is fortuitous news though because it's probably a damn a good thing to take a pause from this frequent sex. While Rob's on the mend I've been overdoing it with Dodger and it's beginning to bring on some guilty feelings. I mean especially since Rob's been so generous in getting Danny and me together while he recovers. I can't think of anything to say to Dodger though, so I rub his head, asking, "Ya want a free haircut?" He gives me his great smile, "Oh man! Do you remember those haircut with Vinnie and me together?" I go, "Of course I do. And you two taking turns having your way with me." We laugh and then he says, "When I get back, for old times' sake, you gotta do haircuts for Vinnie and me together. We'll use the way-back machine if we need to." I frown, "The what?" and he goes, "It's an old cartoon." I'm shaking my head, and he goes, "The time machine in Peabody's Improbable History." I go, "I missed that one, dude." He shrugs, "Yeah, it's from the sixties but all the episodes are on YouTube now. Corny and primitive drawings but kinda funny too. An Army buddy turned Connor and me onto the show." I mutter, "Yeah, maybe I'll check it out."

Dodger goes, "Anyway, I wanted to ask if you'd do me a favor and check my apartment a couple times a week. See if there are any deliveries on my front stoop." I go, "Sure. So you're expecting more deliveries?" He goes, "Yes, but smaller items that the postal guy will leave on my front step on in my mailbox. When I ordered them, I didn't expect to be going away this soon. Here's the key to the front door. I trust you more than anyone else I know." Taking the key, I mumble, "You can depend on me, Dodger." Again, curiously I'd like to know what's in these packages but I don't pry.

He stands and asks, "Hey, for the hell of it, do you wanna have a prostate orgasm?" I go, "I don't know what that is. Does it have anything to do with the way-back machine?" He laughs, "Nooo! It's a watery climax of juices from your prostate. You know, when it's too soon for the rest of your sperm to form. The G-spot is an awesomely super-sensitive little invention of Nature. It stores seminal fluid for a gooey climax filled with your sperm guys trying to mate with a female's egg." I go, "For chrissakes, Dodger, I know what the fucking prostate gland is." He shrugs, "Of course for your guys to impregnate an egg you need to be having sex with a female" I go, "Yeah, Dodger, I was there the day that was covered in Middle School health class." He laughs and goes, "Didn't you love how awkward health class was in middle school with Sally Q sitting next to you?" I go, "Mostly I was staring at Johnny Q's lap and not knowing why I was doing that." He laughs, "Anyway, I could give you a prostate orgasm right now by rubbing your prostate with my finger, although for me it'd be more fun doing that with my dick." I immediately think of Marietta and Timmy's two-inch cock. That's the second time I thought of Tim today."

I ask, "Have your sperm guys ever tried impregnating a female's egg?" He's like, "If you're asking have I had sex with the opposite sex, the answer is yes. Numerous times actually and it feels good too although I much prefer doing it with someone like you. Well, there is no one like you. What I'm saying is, generally speaking I prefer anal sex with guys." Huh, why should I be surprised he's bisexual? For some reason I am though, and knowing he's done it with girls disappoints me and I'm not sure why. He says, "Lean over with your hands on the bed." I'm tired of side-sex, so I try out the word 'no'. Looking at him, I say, "Um, no thanks, I'm not feeling it, Dodger. Anyway, I've had my nuts milked a number of times by someone rubbing my prostate. It feels good but I'll pass this time." He goes, "No problem. How 'bout I spend the night though and I'll get you off to a good start tomorrow morning? You know, as a thank you for checking my mail and for all the other help you've given me." Shaking my head, I mumble, "Not tonight, but thanks anyway." He shrugs, "Well then, I'll see you when I get back." I'm like, "I'll look forward to it, Dodger."

As he gets dressed, I feel kinda bad refusing him so I mumble, "I'm glad you called tonight." He grins, "Oh, hell Dylan, me too. The pleasure has been all mine." Huh, saying 'no' to Dodger was easy and, interestingly, he didn't appear to be the least bit upset or disappointed. While tying his sneakers, he goes, "Would you be so kind as to shoot me a text when a package arrives at my apartment? I'd appreciate it." Nodding, I mutter, "Sure, no problem." I've got my underwear back on, just standing here and still marveling at how easy it was to say 'no'. I should really do that more often. Dodger's ready to go, so to say something, I mumble, "No sense in me getting dressed since I'm just gonna take a shower and then get to bed." He smiles, "Good plan, buddy." I walk him to the front door, and say, "Hope everything goes okay in California." He grins, "Yeah, me too," and then he gives me a hug, "See you in a couple of weeks, Dylan, and thanks again for everything." No kiss, just the quick hug and he's out the door.

I feel odd somehow, and then say out loud to the empty apartment, "What I really want, what I really need, is for Rob to be one-hundred-percent put back together!" Yeah, I want everything to be back to normal. At the front window, I watch Dodger going down the steps. It's been a whirlwind of activities with him, and Hayden, and Danny too these last ten days and frankly it's been kind of exhausting too. Ya know, without Robby to balance it all out it just doesn't feel right. Damn though, that's a new thought for me to have!

In the shower, I try figuring out why I rejected Dodger's offer to spend the night. The other times we slept together I got off to an awesome start in the morning and felt invigorated all day, so why not tonight and tomorrow morning? Maybe it was hearing that Dodger's screws girls. Yeah well, that did put me off a little but then Tracy, of speakeasy fame, goes both ways too and that never put me off with him. When I get right down to it though they're both just side-sex buddies of mine. Maybe I'd like to think Dodger is more special than that, and he is in a way, but in the end, I'm just a sex-buddy to him too. We're guys doing buddy-sex together and except for the fact I've known Dodger longer than any other side-sex buddy of mine it still doesn't change what we are... sex buddies. All Dodgers innuendos that he's going to take me from Robby and that he and I are destined to be a couple was most likely just Dodger being in competition with his brother. It's me who tried to make it out to be more than it was.

Out of the shower drying myself I'm fixated on the matter of zero affection from Dodger. No, that's not entirely correct because I did feel a sincere friendship affection from him even though he isn't demonstrative about it. Yeah, that fits because as I've said many times... there's rarely true affection during buddy-sex. Hell, Dodger's shown me basically the same friendship affection for as long as I've known him. It never went beyond that though. Sure, he talks a good game but talk is all it's ever amounted to. Bottom line: I don't know exactly what the reason was for me saying 'no' tonight, but I guess I'm glad I said it. Putting on pajamas I go to get in bed and stop because I don't feel like sleeping in wet cum tonight. I strip the bed and then make it up with clean crisp sheets. It's like I'm getting a fresh start to, um, to everything. Getting under the covers I fall right to sleep.

Monday morning I'm feeling okay, I think. The last ten-days or so have been complicated, wild, unpredictable and consequently I now need normalcy and that starts and ends with Robby. That'll begins today when I pick him up for work. I want him to be his old self as soon as possible. I yearn for Rob being well and driving his own truck and me back taking the bus to work. I'll tease my bus-buddy, Ryan, a little, and get back on schedule with everything. Without Robby being my anchor, my soul mate and lover, all the rest seems like a senseless orgy of self-gratification without any other purpose. Or sometime akin to that. Robby and I making love together renders the rest, the side-sex for both not us, irrelevant and therefore guilt-free sexy fun.

After getting dressed and eating a nourishing breakfast of orange juice, coffee, and two bowls of Froot Loops in milk I'm anxious to see Rob. I make my lunch, check that I have what I need in my backpack, re-comb my hair and straighten my tie and now I'm ready to go. It's only seven-ten but Rob likes to get to work early. The drive through the center of Framingham is easier this early in the morning so maybe I should get in the habit of getting to work earlier, like Rob. Maybe I should do a like lot of things like Rob.

At Rob's, idling in the driveway, I can't decide if I should blow the horn or knock on the door and then Rob comes out the backdoor so I don't need to do either. He gets in the passenger seat smiling, "Good morning, Dylan," and then gives my shoulder a squeeze. I go, "Good morning. How you feeling, Robby?" and then unhook my seatbelt and slide over to tightly hug him. Fuck, I feel like I might cry. He kisses the side of my head, murmuring, "Ow, my side is still tender, babe." After all this time? I start to pull away but he tightens his arms around me, "No, this is nice," and another kiss on the side of my head as I mumble, "I've really missed you, Robby." He lets go of me, "Same here, Dylan, although that might be the understatement to top all understatements ever uttered. It's been a long ten days." I sit up and, adjusting my tie, say, "Yeah, it has been a long ten days."

Clicking my seatbelt, feeling embarrassed for overdoing it, I ask, "Are you feeling okay?" Jesus, I need to get a grip here! As I drive us away, he goes, "I'm a little shaky actually, but I wouldn't admit that to anyone but you." He goes on to tell me how unexpected it was that it exhausted him just getting ready for work. He says, "For a second there I began doubting myself about being ready to face the world again. And it was only a minor operation and it happened ten-fucking-days-ago, but I'm still not myself. I'm a wimp I guess." I say, "Nonsense! Any cutting and removal of something inside your body is a big deal. Um, tissue and nerve endings are super traumatized so you needed to rest. And then after spending a lot of time in bed you need time to get used to being up and around again. And, yeah, remember! Those stitches came out setting you back." His hand goes to his side as he mutters, "Yeah the stitches came loose."

A minute later, he grins at me, muttering, "Thank you, Dr. Newman. You make good excuses for me," and I go, "I'm serious!" He says, "You're sweet to make excuses for me but according to testimonies online about recovery from my type of appendectomy I should be doing a lot better; a hell of a lot better by now. I don't think I pushed it enough in the early going." I mumble, "Your body was cut open." He goes, "Yeah, but just a little."

To be honest though, I found myself sort of thinking along the same lines as Rob. I too kinda expected he'd recover sooner, but to be supportive I mumble, "Well, like I said, you had the stitches pulled out that time you were doing sit-ups and maybe it was like starting over." He laughs, "No, Dylan, I wasn't doing sit-ups! Mom said that. I merely sat up in bed one time." I look at him, grinning and muttering, "Lucky we're not working the lawn cutting crew, huh?" He nods, "Heh heh, yeah, I'd probably need help carrying that bad-ass ride-on mower off the truck." I chuckle because we never carried it off the truck, we drove it off. Anyway, I just wanted to make him feel better and now I guess enough is enough. We switch topics to one every-fucking-body talks about... commenting on the weather. We both agree it's nice June day and we also agree to text each other around lunch time to maybe have lunch together. The last thing we agree on is if he should need to leave work early for whatever reason I'll drive him.

Truth is though I don't really expect Rob to leave work early because of his conscientiousness. He still doesn't look himself though. He's lost some weight and he still looks pale and frail to me. I let him off at the front door and then watch him walk in the main entrance. A part of me hopes he needs my help, but that would embarrass Rob so I'm glad he doesn't need help going through the front doors. After parking the pickup, I walk around to the back picnic area for a smoke. It's only seven-thirty so I'm the only person back here. Wandering toward the picnic table near the dumpster I think about how it makes me feel good having Rob back at work. It's just nice knowing he's here. Finally, a first step back to normalcy.

Last night saying 'no' to any further side-sex with Dodger isn't a reflection on him specifically. I'm not interested in having it with anybody. At least not until Robby and I have some serious lover's sex together. I need that affirmation of our love before anymore side-sex will interest me. I'm thinking Rob's and my lover's sex is ironically what makes the rest possible. That's a new revelation to me but I believe it's a fact. Robby and I have been each other's, um, foundation... we're best friends who are destined to be life-long lovers. I know that to be true but I need the physical proof of it before anything else will interest me. It's weird finding that out about myself at this late date but I'm glad I did. It was never going to be anyone else but Robby and me. The rare times I've speculated a possibility of me being with someone else, whether it was Ryan or Willie or Dodger or anyone, I've always quickly realized that was frivolous thinking. It's scary to think of my life without Robby being right where he is; the center of my present and future.

Rob and I will undoubtedly further cement our place in each other's heart with lover's sex, hopefully tonight, and then I'll feel safe and secure enough to allow other parts of life to intrude. So yeah, without the stability and seriousness of Robby's and my love affair I'd simply be a loose cannon having meaningless sex without direction. With Robby as my true lover the rest becomes merely recreational side-sex that's harmless and temporary. Jesus, it's a revelation to know my love for Robby allows me to do my side-sex without feeling I'm wasting my life away. Without him that's what it's beginning to feel like. When the time is right Rob and I will shut out the rest, and live our lives monogamously. That thought used to give me pause but now it doesn't scare me in the least. The possibility we wouldn't eventually be monogamous is what would scare me.

Sitting at the picnic table thinking these thoughts I notice two women lighting cigarettes outside the back door. They both hold their cigarette in that funny way women do it. They hold the cigarette at the tip of their forefinger and middle finger while their elbow is against their side. Their hand and wrist are limply held away from their body after each drag. Ha, I saw Hayden smoke like that once! Yeah, Hayden. What am I going to do about Hayden? Maybe nothing because I'm not exactly chomping at the bit waiting for his return from California. The kind of nuclear heat we generated in one another has a short shelf life, or at least it has in the past. Of course, a short shelf live might mean this entire summer, which could be problematic although presently I'm not feeling any inclination to have sex with him at all.

Stepping on my cigarette butt, I get up and walk slowly toward the back door where the two women have gone inside leaving half smoked cigarette butts smoldering on the ground. Both butts have a lipstick ring on the filters. Christ, imagine having gooey lipstick on all day, every day! Ghastly! Considering the cost of cigarettes those two women should have shared one if they only wanted half a cigarette. I don't think women share cigarettes though. Okay, so I'll start work almost an hour early for the first time and see how that goes. Be more like Rob... that's my latest motto.

After dropping my backpack off in my, um, office, I put my lunch in the Accounting Department's refrigerator and then get my own coffee this morning because Eileen isn't here yet. Huh, the donuts aren't here yet either. So far, I don't see much benefit starting work early. Hell, my boss probably hasn't rolled out of bed yet.

In the meeting room that serves as my office I'm determined to do something worthwhile so I get out my computer list and begin summarizing the first few weeks' results on a yellow paper-tablet. A recap for Carl with a projected completion date of the Accounting Department. I highlight individuals I've interviewed, ones who were out of the ordinary, by putting a number next to their names. At the bottom of the summary I jot down a quick note next to each number explaining why I highlighted these employees. When done that I readjust the format so it's more professional looking and then type it into the computer so I can print it out. Nice!

That took forty-five minutes so, feeling very pleased with myself, I go for another cup of coffee. Everyone in Accounting is working at eight-forty-five of course so I again get my own coffee. I can't help but smile at Eileen, who beams, and then I pick up the last glazed donut left in the box. The Accounting Supervisor, whose name I've forgotten, makes eye contact so I walk over, saying, "If it's okay with you we can start the interviews in fifteen minutes. One right after the other this morning." She says, "Do you think you'll finish up this week?" I nod, "Yes, by Wednesday. That's my plan." As I'm walking back to my office I'm remembering erroneously telling Mr. Dickers I was one-third of the way through the Accounting department. He seemed fine with while what I meant to say is that I have a third of the Accounting employees still to do. After doing this summary I see I'm actually closer to three-quarters of the way through. Mr. Dickers seemed pleased with whatever percentage I mentioned, but then he's got other things on his mind, and being crude, he doesn't know jack-shit about this project.

I get back to the small meeting room at the same time Carl gets there. He seems frazzled, but mostly I'm surprised to see him in any condition this early. Since my first day working here this is at least ten minutes earlier than Carl has ever showed-up for work. And then, uncharacteristically, he sternly asks, "Where's your suit coat, Dylan?" Taken aback by his aggressiveness I smile uncertainly while pointing to where my sport coat is hanging on the back of my chair. It's incongruous he should mention a suit coat to me when he's wearing a short sleeve patterned sport shirt that should never be worn with a tie and yet he has on a thin maroon knit tie that clashes so much with the multicolored shirt it's like a blinking neon sign. This is the first tie I've seen Carl wear. I ask, "Why so dressed-up today, Carl?" He says, "It just so happens I have a nine o'clock meeting with my boss about this benefits re-introduction program that you and I have been working on." Ha, he means that I've been working on. I go, "Oh, and how..." but he interjects nodding at my hands that are holding a Styrofoam cup of coffee and a donut, "And, um, not to be a prick about it, but coffee break isn't for another hour-and-a-half."

Normally something like his bullshit would piss me off royally, especially considering I actually started working almost an hour ago. Carl does not put the fear of God in me however, so I keep the smile and ignore the coffee break comment, saying, "Actually I've been here since seven-thirty working on something for you, boss. It should fit right in with your meeting this morning." He brightens-up, "Oh, I could use a little something. What have you got?"

Setting the coffee and donut on my desk I hand him the summary report and his eyes bulge out as he glances over it. He smiles his lopsided smile, exclaiming, "This is perfect! Just what I need for my monthly report to my boss." Then he sort of catches himself and takes the enthusiasm down a couple of notches, saying, "Um, this is a good start, Dylan, and I'll take it to the meeting but I'll need an update, an entirely re-done report for the whole month of June." He said that as if this report was his idea and I've somehow screwed it up a little. Looking at me through those large thick eyeglasses he wears, he says, "I went to the trouble of summarizing results for the short month of May myself. I'll expect this month's full summary done by you and I mean by the middle of next week." He looks at the report again and taps the top of the page with the back of his fingers, saying, "Um, you don't need to include this salutation to me though. I'll, um, include it as a part of my monthly reporting." In other words, he'll add a salvation to his boss as if he prepared the report himself. What a dick!

After checking to make sure he's serious. He looks serious, so I mumble, "Sure thing, Carl," and hand him my normal Monday report of last weeks list of employees interviewed. At the door, still looking at the summary report, he looks up and points to my sport coat, "Put that on, please. I may call you into the meeting if, um, something doesn't look right to my boss." He means if his boss asks him a question he can't answer because he hasn't done jack-shit to help me. I put on the sport coat as he nods his head and backs out of the room. Then, stepping back in the room, he goes, "Um, thanks very much, Dylan. This is just what I needed. You did good." He must have gotten yelled at by his boss and initially passed that vibe on down to the only person lower on the totem pole than him. Actually, I feel bad for Carl and I'm glad that I helped him out.

Then my first interview of the week is here. George Gleason, an all-business-type slim young man with an attractive smile. His striking jadeite-jade, pale-green, eyes and medium ash brown hair, that's combed like mine, gets my juices running this morning. I'm wearing my sport coat because after all Carl is my boss and, even though it's stupidly unnecessary, if he wants me to wear it, so be it. These interviews have become so routine for me by now that my number-one concern is making sure the interview doesn't come across as routine to the employee. I need to keep reminding myself before each interview that this is the first time this person has ever heard the presentation and it should be presented with enthusiasm as a big deal because it is a big deal. The benefits are much improved at a lot of company expense and I'm getting paid to impress each employee with that reality. Hey, it's my job, dude!

I'm probably overly enthusiastic, but I feel good knowing I'm doing what I'm being paid to do. George is stoic but says 'Thanks' when I'm finished. He could use a personality transplant, but so could a lot of people. As noon rolls around there's been no summons from Carl so I assume his meeting went well. And then as I'm getting ready to have lunch Carl pokes his head in the door smiling and saying, "We are studs, Dylan! Many accolades from the bosses on how well the new benefit package is being received. Don't get a big head but I heard glowing feedback for the job you're doing. The employees love ya, dude. Great job! Gordon told me that report I, um, you did summarize perfectly what he needs to know for his Monday afternoon meeting with the heads of all departments. Just wanted to share that with you." I'm startled but manage, "Thank you, Carl. I appreciate it very much that you shared." He says, "Um, if it's uncomfortable feel free to take the sport coat off." He gone before I can say, 'Thanks.' I don't know who 'Gordon' is but I'm pleased he found the summary exactly what he wanted.

Huh, what a fortuitous coincidence though that I put together that summary list this morning! When I left the house, I had no idea I'd be doing that. Sure, Carl was not himself when he first saw me this morning but I found out why; he was nervously unprepared for the meeting with his boss. Then I had exactly what he needed without him knowing he needed it until he saw it. He acted like a prick to me at first but in the end, he reverted back to himself, which is basically a good guy albeit a bit goofy, and he just thanked me sincerely. That little saga with Carl turned-out very well and all because Rob likes to get to the office early. Since I drove him I too had the extra time to do that report. Be like Rob is my new motto and it's paid off for Carl and me already.

Feeling good, I text Rob about lunch and he text back. 'Babe, Max Renoldie asked me to have lunch with him. Sorry, but he is letting me share his office, so....' Well damn! I really wanted to see Rob and share my tale of the summary report. Okay, maybe I wanted to brag a little too and impress him. It's odd though that he didn't invite me to join him and that blowhard, Max. Of course, Rob thinks Max is a loud-mouth-bore so he either didn't want to subject me to that, on the one hand, or he and Max are eating with someone else and I'm too low on the organizational chart to qualify for their high-level power-lunch. Of course, it doesn't need to be one or the other of those two extremes. There are many levels of possibilities in between and I'm simply assuming Rob had a good reason for not inviting me.

Retrieving my lunch from the refrigerator I step outside and see it's turned into a cloudy, humid day which is not conducive to eating outside. I eat at my desk in air-conditioned comfort instead. Anyway, with Marty working on the lawn cutting crew I'd be eating along at the picnic table near the dumpster and would probably feel self-conscious. Taking my time eating a slice of vanilla cake I'm thinking about me and Robby and feeling all warm and gooey inside, or maybe it's the vanilla icing.

Omigod, Rob's and my first summer together was so special. Our massages became so sexual with both of us breathy noisily, greatly aroused, but not saying a word. It was just warm palms caressing bare skin under damp T-shirts and then under the waistband of our shorts getting teasingly close to touching private parts with never a complaint or discouraging word. It got hard for us to catch our breath. Robby hovering over me with his personal scent in my head and me wanting him to kiss me so badly it hurt. Christ, it took us long enough to work up the courage for that first tentative kiss. After everyone else had left for the day Robby and me in the locker room taking turns pretending to massage each other's sore muscles when we were basically trying to crawl into each other's skin. I almost shot off in my jeans when our lips met, both of us sweaty after cutting lawns in the sun all day. What a rush! Nothing has ever matched it for a single thrill of a lifetime. And... oh, that was a text message ping.

Taking out my cellphone I see it's a text from Hayden. 'Flying in Tuesday. Prepare yourself. I have ten days of yearnings to fuck you built-up and it's all for you. Be ready.' Holy shit, that's giving me a boner. Okay, I might need to make an exception for Hayden. I'm feeling heat from just thinking of his face. I can see the grin on his face as he typed that ridiculous text. That hot little body of his with his sometimes-swishy mannerisms as he somehow dominates my ass. And that huge dick! God!

I'm Adjusting my junk pissed-off I'm having this reaction after all my earlier talk to myself about being sick of side-sex, or at least until Robby and I are whole again as lovers having lover's sex. Damn, this surprises me because I wasn't especially concerned when Hayden was going to get back from his debating competition. Obviously, he and his partner did better than they thought they'd do if he's still there. Oh man, cutting all that hair off Hayden's head was really hot too. Awesome haircut for him and he looks sooooo much better now too. That tight little body on his slim frame with his ginormous cock... damn, he's sexy hot!

Huh, there have been other side-sex buddies this summer, but not many. There's only been Sonny and Danny, plus Dodger of course, other than Hayden I mean. Four, huh? Plus turning down Marty and Ray... twice. That's a lot of activity in what's basically been a month since the end of the last semester at Merrimack, especially considering the frequency of Dodger's contributions. Yeah, but I seriously don't have any desire for any of them. That's except for the one I'd least expect to be hungering for... swisher Hayden. Damn I'm messed-up.

I text Hayden back: 'Don't get ahead of yourself, hottie.' and I'm back to daydreaming about me and Robby. Dodger said getting married is stupid... well fuck him. He said that as a direct repute of his brother's wishes for him and me. I want to be married to Robby and live with him and be together for meals and sleeping and all the sex we want. I love thinking about that.

Finished my cake I wrap up the paper bag and realize I need to take a piss. Yeah and I should wash-up for this afternoon's interviews. In the Men's Room, at a urinal, is George Gleason, my first interview this morning. George with the pale jade eyes and a haircut like mine. I've never seen eyes the color of his before in my life. He barely turns his head to glance at me as the door's swinging shut. I take the furthest urinal from him mumbling, "G' afternoon, George." It's surprising I remember his name, but those eyes of his! He nods, "Yo, how ya doing? Um, nice presentation this morning," and he steps back pulling up his fly. Huh, he doesn't remember my name. See, I'm not the only one who isn't good with names.

George is washing his hands with his head down so I can't see the reflection of his amazing eyes from the mirror in front of him. I see the top of his head though and I'll be damned, his hair, while combed like mine, is a lot longer and thicker on top. Maybe I'll ask Robby to leave the top hairs longer and thicker. He goes overboard with the thinning shears. George's longer hair on top looks good. I can't think of anything to say to George though, and why the fuck do I want to say anything more to him anyway. Maybe because he has a baby face and I'll bet he doesn't shave, or need to. Not anymore than I do anyway.

After drying his hands, he takes out a pocket comb and combs his hair squinting his eyes as he does it. Ha ha, that's cute. I'm pulling up my zipper, asking, "What do you do in Accounting, George?" Looking over he says, "Accounting work, whaddaya think I do in Accounting?" He winks at me, turns around and leaves. What a flaming asshole!

I wash-up fuming a little and then re-comb my hair while noticing the hairs on the sides is just growing over the top of my ears. It looks raggedy and that's the problem with short haircuts. It looks raggedy after say two-or-three-weeks where with long hairdos ya can't tell the difference for a month or two. If Robby wasn't still recovering from that minor operation he'd have mentioned that I need to be neat for work and insisted I needed a haircut. He's just like his Father in that regard. Ya know what? I miss that sort of thing from Robby. Not bossy exactly but on top of things for both of us. Hell, I miss Robby... period!

Yeah, my boyfriend, Robby. Somehow, I'm gonna jump his bones after work. Hell, he was well enough to let Danny screw him yesterday so he's well enough for me to do it too. Except what I really want, and need, is for him to do me. I don't know if he can do that yet but he should be able to by now. Just saying...

My first afternoon interview is waiting for me when I get back to the meeting room. An older woman wearing too much cheap perfume. She turns as I come in the room and I do my automatic smile, saying, "Hi, I'm Dylan Newman. Sorry to keep you waiting." I could have said, 'What the hell are you doing here?' because they're not supposed to start sending people until I tell them to. She says, "I saw I was next on Marge's printout so after lunch I came here instead of back to my work station." I say, "No problem," and look at my computer list seeing her name is, Rose Kennedy. I do not say the obvious about the name, but instead get out a new brochure and begin the presentation with as much enthusiasm as I can muster up. She proves to be a good listener and politely thanks me after the presentation. No problem signing on the dotted-line either. So good, I'm off and running.

The presentations go so well this afternoon and I'm sort of shocked when I tabulate how many were completed by the end of the day. Well, four-ten is close enough to the end of the day so I tell the last interviewee to ask her boss not to send anyone else for interviews today. Whew, another Monday is in the books. Hmmm, should I text Rob or wait for his text? Putting my paperwork in my backpack I decide not to text Rob until four-thirty, which is the official end of the workday. When I've got everything ready to go I make a final trip to the Men's Room.

Yeah, I need to pee again plus I want to check how I look. Always looking my best for Rob is what I try to do. Two men I don't know are coming out of the Men's Room as I'm going in. We nod at each other, friendly like. After a nice long piss, I wash-up rubbing my face vigorously getting some healthy color on my cheeks. Then I wet my hair a little so I can re-comb it like I had it this morning. I'd loosened the knot in my tie around two o'clock so I tighten that and with one last pat on the hairs in front of my head I'm satisfied with my appearance.

Back in my 'office' I force myself to wait for Rob's text and it comes at four-thirty-five. Good! His text reads: 'Well I made it, but just barely. Dylan, please drive to the front doors where you dropped me off this morning.' I text back, 'I'm on my way.' He's probably too tired to walk to the parking lot. Wait, what am I saying? He doesn't know where I parked the pickup so of course I'll get him at the front of the building. I drive the pickup slowly around to the front, which is like two blocks from where I parked. It's slow going though because I don't want to run over employees who naturally assume they have the right-of-way in the street. They don't even look, just walk right out heading for their cars or the bus or whatever the fuck.

It's almost ten-minutes after Rob texted me before I'm able to get around in front of the main building where Rob is leaning against a light standard with his suit coat off and his tie pulled down. He gives me a 'look' like maybe he expected me sooner, or he wants me to get closer which I can't do without driving on the sidewalk. Slowly he walks towards the car until a man touches his shoulder and they both stop to talk for two minutes. When the man walks off Rob shakes his head slowly and takes a deep breath squinting like he felt a pain, and then he starts his slow walk again. I almost want to jump out and help him to the pickup. It's like I feel when listening to a guy who stutters: I want to finish the sentence for him except I don't because that would be rude.

Rob gets in the passenger seat and mumbles, "Hi," and I go, "Hi, Rob. Rough day, huh?" I'm looking both ways before pulling away from the curb and then I coast the twenty-feet to a stop sign which is where we'll leave the company grounds. This secondary road, Rosemont Street, leads to route 9. Cars are going by so I wait and then glance over at Rob, who hasn't said a word. Oh, he's sound asleep. Poor bastard!

Leaning over I snap his seatbelt around him and then pull out into the flow of traffic. At this time of the day it's rush hour traffic and therefore very slow going. It's a silent twenty-minutes' drive before I'm in Rob's neighborhood. I pass Hayden's house one street over from Rob's, while Danny lives two blocks away. It's funny realizing those three grew-up as neighbors. They met at a neighborhood block party one summer when they were like fifteen-years-old. Dodger was around too, then twelve-or-thirteen-years-old, but he obviously hardly registered with Danny. Chubby and I live on the other side of downtown Framingham. The poorer side, but not by a great deal.

Parking the pickup in the driveway next to his Mom's car I touch Rob's shoulder lightly while quietly say his name. He doesn't even stir. He's out of it! God, he looks a lot paler then this morning. I wonder if somehow an infection has formed in the incision? Yeah, hasn't anyone thought of that? Touching his forehead he feels hot, so yeah maybe an infection but wouldn't Rob realize that himself? I undo his seatbelt and then go around to his side of the truck and open the door. I'm prepared to catch him if he falls out but he doesn't. He opens his eyes and mumbles, "We home?" I nod and help him out as he drops his coat on the driveway. He mutters, "Fuck," as I get the coat and drape it over my arm.

Standing here Rob rubs his face with both hands, mumbling, "Let me get it together for a second. I don't want to go in there like I'm on my last leg or Mom will freak out." I say, "Rob, you feel hot. Do you think maybe there's an infection or something in the incision?" He mutters, "Oh, Dr. Newman, I believe you've discovered my secret." Whatever that means. He starts to go through the gate with me asking, "Do you want me to, um, come in with you?" He shakes his head, "No thanks, I'm gonna go in and lie down. Thanks, Dylan." I go, "We'll here's your suit jacket." He mutters, "Oh yeah," and he takes it before going in the back door.

Huh, I'm guessing he's not up for sex tonight like I was hoping he would be. Getting back in the pickup I see his backpack on the floor where his feet were. Oh man! Guess I'll need to deal with Mrs. Dickers. Taking Rob's backpack with me, I knock on the back door and then look through one of the six-panes of glass that make-up the top half of the door and see Rob sitting at the kitchen table with his mother placing a glass of water next to him. He looks over at me, so I hold up his backpack. Rob motions for me to come in. As soon as I walk through the door Mrs. Dickers asks me, "Didn't you think to check on Rob, Dylan? He should have come home hours ago." Rob says, "Don't, Mother! Don't talk like that to him. It's not Dylan's job to babysit me. He had his own job to do and I wouldn't have come home sooner in any case. So drop it!" He talks to his Mom in ways I've never talked to mine, but maybe he has more of a reason to than I do.

Ignoring both of them I put the backpack next to Rob's chair, saying, "I hope you feel better, Rob. Check out that infection possibility, will ya?" Mrs. Dickers' head snaps around and she asks, "What infection?" I shrug, "I don't know. He has a fever." She bustles over to a kitchen cabinet as Rob rolls his eyes at me with a grin on his lips. She comes over with a thermometer and Rob opens his mouth. Its battery operated and beeps almost immediately. Mrs. Dickers looks at it and says, "You do have a fever, Robert. It's an even one-hundred. I'm calling your father." Rob looks at me again smirking and mouthing, 'Thanks a lot, boyfriend.' I shrug, "That's why you haven't felt better sooner." He goes, "I was worried it might have gotten infected when I pulled those stitches out last week. The incision is swollen again and very tender." I go, "So you thought if you ignore it... it would cure itself. Is that it?" Rob mutters, "I was hoping, yeah."

I leave when Mrs. Dickers tells Rob his father is on his way home and they'll be off to the hospital again. Driving home I'm thinking it's a relief to have a reason now for Rob's slow progress recovering. It's like after some antibiotics Rob should now quickly be on the mend... finally.

At home, I text Chubby about dinner and then take a shower. We make cheesesteaks from frozen shaved beef. The shaved beef is an over-priced but really good new product available at Stop & Shop. Not the healthiest dinner we've ever had but Chubby's in a hurry to meet some guys for a few beers and to shoot some pool. I'm invited but don't feel like drinking so I tell him about Rob's latest medical set-back, saying, "So I'm gonna see how he's doing later tonight."

When Chub's gone I have a dilemma: do I intrude by texting or calling Rob when he might still be at the hospital? No, I don't feel like being pushy so if Rob doesn't text me I probably won't see him until tomorrow. It's only six-thirty though so I'd really like to see him tonight and then Danny calls to resolve my dilemma. He goes, "Dylan, babe, Rob's at the hospital again." I tell him I know about it and he asks me if I'll keep him company at baseball practice. Well that's odd, so I hesitate and he explains. "I'm sure you want to visit Rob when he's back from the hospital, and so do I. The thing is I've gotta let my Mom use my car after practice and I'm hoping I can get a ride to Rob's with you." I'm still not sure why I need to watch him practice though, so I go, "Oh, you need a ride. Um, no problem..." and he says, "Practice is less than an hour or so and you'd be right there. Would you please?"

I don't feel like arguing so I agree to meet him at the high school. During the drive over I reconfirm my lack of interest in side sex with Danny or anybody else, and I'm determined to use my new word 'no' if Danny hints around for some buddy-sex. Of course, it's presumptuous of me to assume he'd hint around. I was the one hinting around to Danny the last time I checked, and he's the one who isn't doing much side sex.

We both arrive at the high school parking lot at the same time. He greets me with his friendly smile and buddy-buddy demeanor with a nice tight shoulder hug pulling me against his side and looking me in the face, mumbling, "Looking good as usual, Dylan." I thought for a second he was going to kiss me on the lips right here in the parking lot. He affectionately ruffles my hair instead, saying, "Thanks for helping me out, babe. It's so cool we can do things together now, just the two of us. Hey, that reminds me, Hayden's flying in tomorrow. Would you like to come with me to Logan? We'll be Hayden's welcome home committee." I gulp and managed to say, "Hayden, huh? What time does his flight get in?" Danny says, "Around six o'clock. At night I mean." I mutter, "I don't know, Danny, it would be awfully tight. I don't get out of work until, um, maybe I can go if Rob's finally on the mend by then." He squeezes the back of my neck, mumbling, "Rob's gonna be fine, but he doesn't like Hayden like you and I do so I'm pretty sure he won't come with us." How's Danny know I like Hayden like he does? Or, what the fuck was that he said exactly?

Now Danny's introducing me to two guys who are putting on baseball cleats. They look like jocks; very average looking though. I mutter, "Nice to meet you," already forgetting their names. There are maybe twenty people in the stands watching practice and as I take a seat and think of all the times, first as a senior in high school and then the past three years at Merrimack, that I've enjoyed watching Rob's baseball practice or playing in actual games. Huh, watching Danny's isn't hard on the eyes either. He's like a big puppy dog out there joking and running around pointing at guys acknowledging that when they make a good play, shouting compliments and generally having a good time. He seems very popular with the other guys too and I see some younger players looking for Danny's approval when they make an especially acrobatic catch or a great throw from third to first. Danny always has something nice to shout at them but he also joins in with the normal ball-busting you'd expect from jocks. Lots of pats on the back or shoulders for different guys, shoulder hugs, and laughs... he's quite awesome actually.

In high school the better players usually were both pitchers and position players. Robby made his name as a pitcher primarily but he was such a good hitter that days he didn't pitch he'd play the infield. At Merrimack Rob concentrated on the infield although I've always told him he should have stuck with pitching. His point was he wasn't good enough as either a pitcher or an infielder to play at the next levels so he concentrated on his infield play because it's more fun that pitching.

Danny of course was on the same field with Robby back then, and now too, but I never paid a lot of attention to him before. From junior year of high school on I was fixated on Robby the pitching star. God, he was so beautiful and athletic and now I'm noticing the same things in Danny. Not that they look alike because they don't, although they're both extremely attractive in their own way. Rob's got the cute handsome looks while Danny's less boyish-looking but with an awesome smile and easy manner. He's graceful about everything he does and I'll bet he's a good dancer too. Yeah but then Rob's very coordinated with sports but a terrible dancer so maybe Danny is too. They're both natural athletes doing everything with a graceful smoothness but without apparently a need to even think about what they're doing.

Huh, what if I happened to fixate on Danny Monday with his wide shoulders instead of Robby in high school; just arbitrarily chose Danny. What then? They were both sexually active back then although I didn't know it. Would I have become as infatuated with Danny as I've become with Rob? Have a crush on Danny like the one I had on Robby, a crush as big as a glacier. If my eyes had looked a little to Rob's left back then they'd have settled on Danny with his wide shoulders and slim hips and long legs and sexy ass. Jeez, I'd probably be like Hayden now fixated on everything Danny does or says and ready to do whatever he wants me to do. Ha ha, I'll bet Danny wouldn't have resisted my urging for him to be my dominant 'top', to be in-charge of us. Not the way Robby fought off my urgings. It's ironic that he's more like in-charge at times after I told him I changed my mind about it. Fucking ironic! No, Danny would have embraced that role the way he has with Hayden.

It's so weird that previous to these past ten days I hardly gave Danny more than a passing thought. Oh, I always admitted he's sexually attractive but that's about it. Now that I'm getting to know him well I'm seeing him in an entirely different light and it makes my dick feel heavy. It's fun watching him do his thing with his baseball cap a little to the side and his cool sunglasses. Yeah, he's quite the show out there. The time passes faster than I can believe and all of a sudden everyone just starts packing up their shit. I ask two girls sitting behind me in the bleachers, "Is that it? Practice is over already?" A girl with incongruously long pigtails, says, "Yep, Mondays are like fifty minute practices," and her girlfriend, who has over-sized front teeth, lisps, "C'mon, Connie, there's Roy waving at us." They get up and so do I. Danny's talking to one of the coaches so I walk down the bleachers and sort of stand there feeling self-conscious waiting for him.

He jogs over to me with his signature big smile and puts his arms across my shoulders pulling me tightly against him the way he's been doing lately, saying, "That was a good workout! I wish you were out there with us." I shrug, "Yeah, well..." and Danny gives my shoulders another hug, saying, "Follow me to my house and I'll drop my car off for Mom." I mutter, "Sure," and he drops his arm down to rub my back grinning at me. I do a nervous smile not sure what's up and he chuckles ruffling my hair again and then says, "C'mon" as he jogs on ahead toward our cars.

Damn he looked cool with all that perspiration on his face and his pale just-beginning mustache, his bow-shaped lips formed in that smile of his with those dimples, one on each cheek. Danny shows lots of affection by being a touchy/feely kind of guy although from what I can tell he's apparently more sparing with actual sex. Maybe his sex habits of two or three or four sex acts, some with Hayden and some with, gulp, Robby, is normal and I'm the outlander overdoing it. I can see how less-frequent sex might make it more special... maybe. I quickly try combing my hair with my fingers one time trying to undo the mess Danny made of it, but I'm feeling funny in my stomach, or is it my groin, and then I start jogging after him.

I follow him in the pickup and it's less than a ten-minute drive to Danny's house. He parks giving me a wave and his big smile and then runs inside for a minute. Out he comes jogging over to the pickup. He gets in and casually leans over to do a quick kiss on my lips, and then says, "I didn't get a chance to do that at the high school." He's putting on his seatbelt with me thinking I should protest the quick kiss but find I don't want too. Instead I go, "Yeah, our one big happy family's quick-as-a-wink-kiss on the lips, huh?" He smiles, 'We're like gay brothers, bro. You, me, Hayden and Rob." Damn, the full weight of Danny's personality is, um, really something. And Rob sort of inferred Danny's not too bright, huh. I haven't picked-up on that yet. I'm staring at him until he grins, asking, "What?" I shake my head, muttering, "Oh, nothing, but are you sure it's okay for us to just barge in on Rob at eight o'clock, um, tonight without calling first?" He goes, "Sure, why wouldn't it be?"

See, that's a level of self-confidences that I don't have. I'm always second guessing myself. I grin at him, mumbling, "Well okay then, if you say so."

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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