DYLAN!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Life goes on, and the next morning, Chubby waved at me, yelling, "See you tonight, bro!" as he ran down the steps and headed to work. He was still doing the brown-noser routine of being the first one on the job, so Rickie finally got his wish of having Chubby jumping through hoops for him. My day should start nicely because Robby and I are beginning a new morning routine. We've decided it's cool to make out for a few minutes every morning in the old locker section before our massages.
After an uneventful trip to work, I was anxious to see Robby. And there he was, as cute as a bug. After saying good morning, Robby nodded toward the old locker section and mumbled, "Do you still wanna make out?" I said, "Yes, if you do." We went way back and made out in a hot and frenzied way, getting spit all around our mouths, noses, and chins. His saliva has the most subtle taste of clear, bubbly freshness.
This morning, when we both had boners, Robby whispered that he loved me. Yeah, well, I'd contemplated if this was love, but I still felt this was too soon for us to be in love. I liked hearing the words, though. While making out, I wondered who smells better, Robbie or Chubby? Answer, Willie. Haha. No, they all smell different, but Chubby's is my favorite because it's the one I've known the best and the longest. Maybe Willie's is the sexiest, though, or was it Robby?
We'd planned on only a quick make-out, and after three or four minutes, we somehow stopped, breathing hard, hearts beating fast, and smiled while nodding that this had been cool. Then, at Robby's locker, we had our coffees and did massages on each other like always. Our morning make-out satisfied us for the time being and allowed us to concentrate on the massages. We've been telling ourselves continually how much fun it is to screw around with one another sexy-like.
As Robby says, our unique relationship could be a dream come true, and so could it be for me. What we need is a long time together so we can have sex and then have a deep discussion about our relationship. We hardly ever have time alone to talk, though.
Here's another good thing: Joel left before lunch. He'll be gone for the weekend, wherever it is he's going. I still don't know why the original "overnighter" together was canceled, but I'm grateful for whatever the reason was. Anyway, there'll be no Joel to scare me for the rest of today and no Joel on Saturday, and thank God for that.
It was a hard day on the job with two of our largest properties in the afternoon, and both situated on hills. Hills are a bitch for us guys on foot. The ride-on-mower guys don't like it much either because of the danger of flipping over on the mowers. After work, Robby and I were tired, but we did half-hearted massages and a quick kiss goodbye as his parents made an earlier-than-usual exit.
After a rough day on the job, I was excited about going with Chubby this evening to our first driver's training meeting, and as soon as I got home, I hurriedly made dinner for us. Tonight, a quickie meal of big ham and cheese sandwiches with my Mom's excellent potato salad on the side and large V8 drinks as our vegetable. Quick showers, and then we made the bus that left us off close to the high school. That's where our driver's training classes were conducted.
Omigod, at first, the training class was boring! Then it became very boring, and then, after the break, it was horrific! Very horrific! They made us watch videos of traffic fatalities that the police had taken of teenagers' bodies mangled and broken from accident scenes, with blood and gore all over the highways.
Two kids threw up partway through the video, and a girl fainted. A somber group of driver trainees trooped out of class that first night. Chubby and I solemnly promised each other: always wear seat belts, never drink and drive, and never speed. We both knew we wouldn't be able to keep our solemn promises in the long run, but we meant them tonight. Okay, we survived that, and next Monday, we'll be out on the road with the bitchy lady instructor.
At home, I received a text message from Willie: "OUT TONIGHT...I'LL GET YOU SAT. AT 6 PM...LUV YA! W" I was excited and wanted to talk with him, but he's out tonight. I hope not with another boyfriend!
I was upfront about it at work and told Robby that Willie was taking me on our usual Saturday night date. He quietly mumbled, "No offense, Dylan, but I'd rather not hear about him. I'm jealous." Robby said that so seriously I said, "I'm sorry I brought it up. I don't want to make you feel bad." Then, to change the subject, looking for more details, I again asked about his smoking marijuana and trying to get Chubby to smoke some that time at the dead-end road. I wasn't accusatory, merely curious.
He claims he doesn't smoke pot. He had that one joint and was starting to worry that Chubby, and maybe me, might begin to think he was a boring goody-two-shoes guy. He wanted to impress Chubby that he wasn't like that, so he assumed it would seem cool to smoke some weed, and he asked Chubby to join him. And, as we know, Chubby declined, which surprised him as he was under the impression Chubby was the 'hot-shit type who would smoke pot.
Nodding, I believed Robby's explanation. It sounded believable and had nothing to do with getting Chubby to do anything sexy with him. I just wanted to confirm that further, and now I'm dropping this topic for good. It's a relief to not need to think of the complications that would... Well, it would have been a problem!
Saturday was another hot, difficult day at work. Robby and I were sweaty driving back to the shop in the back of the pick-up; the warm, humid air was flowing over us. The pickup truck's air conditioning isn't working, so we sit in the back with the equipment, hoping for some air to cool our sweat. No talking, but I'm thinking about earlier when, sweaty or not, we ended up in the way-back section of the locker room doing a sweet, sweaty make-out. Now, in the back of the pickup, I yelled over the traffic noise, "I'm sorry I upset you earlier, Robby. I won't mention, ah, him again. I'm with you much more than I am with him. Just so you know, I like you the same way I like him."
He nodded and hugged me, bumping against the ride-on mower. I'm starting to think Robby is in love with me. He wears his emotions right out there in full view. I'm lucky he likes me so much on the one hand but unlucky on the other because this is bringing me down off the high I was on about my date tonight. I wanted to revel in that, but now I'm concerned about hurting Robby.
Chubby has his window washer meeting with Rickie and the other window washer boys on Saturday nights, so I won't see him until Sunday morning. I shower, brush my teeth, and comb my hair that's long enough to comb over. I touch the cool hoop in my pierced ear and dress for my Saturday night date with Willie. Getting dressed includes putting on my necklace and my cool sports watch, both gifts from my boyfriend, whom I haven't seen in two weeks. I'm super psyched to see him tonight!
Gawking at myself in the mirror, I smile because I look cool and, yes, cute, too! Well, I didn't have anything to do with it, but I'm not stupid; I know I'm a cute, good-looking young dude. What can I say? Ha!
The doorbell chimes, and my heartbeat picks up; I always get excited being with Willie, but I'm a little nervously scared, too. That's because, with Willie, you never know. I don't mean I'm clown-at-midnight scared; it's more like being on alert. God, my heart is pounding like a drum. I opened the door, holding my breath, and there he was with his big bright eyes and that great smile, his nose scrunched up at the bridge where he had those little freckles. He's beautiful to me. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his neck and whined, "Willie, I missed you. I love you..."
He's chuckling and staggering through the doorway into the living room, almost carrying me, as he says, "Nice greeting, Dylan. I love you too, baby." I pressed my mouth on his and Willie did his kissing magic; he's the best kisser ever. When Robby and I are kissing, more of the action comes from me, but with Willie, forget about it! His lips and tongue are in constant motion. I don't mean making out with Robby isn't hot because it's wicked hot, but with Willie, he sweeps me off my feet, and I can't catch my breath. We almost stumble backward until Willie pulls apart from me slightly to breathlessly say, "Oh, you missed your Willie, did you? I know what you need, Dylan."
He had a cute smirk on his face when he said, "I'll fuck you in your bed, so when you get in bed later tonight, it'll remind you of me." I nodded, and he took my hand. I led him upstairs and down the hall to my bedroom. My dick was already getting hard. In my bedroom, he looked around quickly but didn't say anything. His bathroom is bigger than my bedroom. He dropped his Polo shorts, saying, "Take everything off and get up on your little bed there. What's that called? A bunk bed?"
He was neatly laying his shorts across the chair and pulling off his Polo golf shirt as I mumbled, "No, it's just a twin bed, not a bunk bed. Or, hell, I don't know." I was undressed first because I tossed my clothes in a pile while Willie folded his neatly. Grinning, he mutters, "This is gonna be hot. Get over here, sweetheart, you know what I like to start with," and he leans over on the edge of the bed.
I knew he was referring to me rimming his asshole. Getting on my knees behind him, I look at his incredible, plump ass for a second. He has thin thighs, but they're strong-looking, too; his buttocks weren't thin at all because, as I said, they're two plump bubble butts, firm, plump bubble butts. I grabbed a fist full of each, massaged both for a few seconds, then rubbed them gently before kissing one, then the other. Licking and kissing his ass was very sexy to us as I heard his steam sound as he blew air out through his tightly closed teeth, and then he followed that with a large, exaggerated inhale.
After giving wet, sloppy kisses all over his buttocks, I spread them apart, exposing that tight rosebud anus, AKA, asshole. His is very pink and very clean-looking. I lick just across the opening several times before doing long laps from just behind his scrotum, up his crack, over his asshole, and up the rest of his crack to the notch at the top of his crack. Then, again and again, Willie made a gasping sound as I reached around to stroke his hardening cock. He shivered and shuddered.
Rimming Willie is a big turn-on for me because, after this, I get to suck his cock, which I get off on. Working my tongue inside his asshole and squirming it up about an inch with my nose plastered tight in his crack, then slowly pulled my tongue out, then back up inside, until Willie cried out, "Dylan, stop, or I'm going to cum".
I sit back on my ankles and stroke my boner absently; Willie slowly turns entirely around, leaning his rear-end against the bed, looks down at me with a smile, and quietly says, "I missed you too, Dylan." His penis looked so long I had to gulp thinking about it soon going way up inside me. We looked at each other, and I saw someone with the happiest expression on their face, as if he was thrilled to be with me. His expression seemed to tell me that I was the one person in the world he most wanted to be with. That would make anybody feel special, and that's how I felt.
Willie motioned with his finger that I should start sucking his cock, so I leaned forward and took it in my hand. It had softened some during the lull. With his cock in my fist, I began licking his balls, getting his scrotum dripping with my saliva. I sucked his wet nuts, one at a time. Then, I sucked and pressed against them with my tongue until I heard a grunt from Willie, who knew I'd put pressure on that bag of nuts to get his attention. Willie muttered, "You're awesome, Dylan." He's constantly playing with my hair or rubbing the back of my head. He has an affectionate way of touching that enhances that earlier feeling that I'm special.
His balls were nicely wet and dripping, so I began lapping up the shaft of his cock, which was rigidly hard again. Then my favorite part was sucking on the head of his cock. I sucked it till he grunted, "Wait."
Looking up at him with my eyes at the top of their sockets, he mumbled, "I again felt like I was starting to cum." Sitting back on my ankles again, I rubbed all around his pubic area, which had grown out to about half an inch since the last time it was shaved. As I said, sometimes I shave Willie, and sometimes he does it himself, but he now likes the feel and the look of a shaved pubic area, as I do, too.
He calmed down a bit and said, "Get my cock real sloppy, Dlyan; I'm going to fuck you now." He was serious; Willie takes fucking seriously. I was so anxious my boner was bobbing up and down as I drooled spit on his boner. Naturally, I wish he'd use lube, but Willie insists on doing me raw, just precum, usually.
"Alright, that's enough, baby," he says. I look up at him, seeing him biting his lower lip and then licking it. Pointing, he says, "Get on the bed, on your knees and forearms." I scampered up on my twin bed and got in position.
Willie climbed up, saying, "Get that pussy up higher," and I groaned that he was using stupid Larry-speak, calling my ass a pussy. The springs creaked as Willie got on the bed, standing behind me. Then, bending his long, almost hairless legs so he was the right height to fuck my ass, I felt his boner bounce off the top of my buttocks. He had it lined up with my hole, and without hesitating, he humped it in past my sphincter ring; it went in about three inches. He immediately withdrew it almost all the way out, only to hump it back up inside my ass a good six inches this time. Then a slow push till his pubes were flush against my smooth, round ass cheeks.
I've had my teeth grinding together the whole time because it hurt like hell, but it didn't hurt for long. My tunnel quickly analyzed the situation and expanded enough to accommodate Willie's boner, which wasn't especially big, just long. He had hold of my hips during the early thrusting but now took his right hand away to smack my ass a few times hard. When I said, "Hey!" he muttered, "Sorry, but I get overexcited with you."
He was a little frantic, and the thought entered my head that Willie hadn't fucked anyone since the last time he fucked me over two weeks ago, so he was hornier than me, maybe. I'd had Robby a couple of times to relieve some horniness. Willie maybe had just his hand. That thought didn't last long in my head, though, because Willie's cock felt so good inside me, I moaned with pleasure. I didn't care if it sounded wimpy; it felt so hot and so sexy and so good that the sounds came out of me on their own.
As I made that "Mmmmmm,'' sound with each thrust, I realized that I liked Willie fucking me better than any other sex I'd experienced; it had me almost delirious with pleasure sensations in my rectum. My groin was tingling all over, my head moving back and forth; it was just fabulous! I used to give Carl the number-one spot for sexual pleasure, but Willie is so much better. I don't know why I ever thought Carl was hot.
When Willie was fucking me, I didn't want it to end because it kept getting better and better, but I was getting closer and closer to climaxing at the same time. The feeling in my balls and the head of my boner made me begin slowly stroking myself. I was huffing and puffing, my eyesight blurred from squinting, as I jerked my boner, and Willie fucked my ass, grunting and making that steam-from-a-valve sound through his teeth behind me.
We climaxed almost together, me first by three seconds. The tightness of my sphincter muscle each time my body forced a shot of cum from my balls flying up and out the pee slit tightened and strangled the shaft of Willie's cock, which was the final stimulation necessary for him. He blew his load inside my bowels while squealing out a sound that wasn't as girlie-sounding as the sound I'd just made. I'd fired cum up my chest and then down onto my pillow, the initial spray hit under my chin. I haven't cum that hard since Willie fucked me on our date in Sea Isle City.
For me, there is a definite difference in climax intensity from one load to the next; believe me on that. Every climax feels fabulous, but some are supernovas, like this one. Groaning and moaning, Willie mumbled, "Is that what you needed, Dylan? Feel good, baby? Huh?"
"Uh-huh, Willie," as I continued with the "Mmmmm," murmuring, my eyes lightly closed as I enjoyed the after-effects of my climax. For me, the glow from a Willie fuck lasted a couple of minutes, with my toes curling as I did a full-body shudder and shake. My groin area and asshole tingled, and the whole experience left me feeling vulnerable and wanting to cuddle with my man.
Willie took cuddling to another level. He pulled my legs backward so I was lying on my stomach and chest. He slowly and carefully laid down on my back, keeping part of his semi-hard penis inside my ass, his arms under me pinned my arms to my body, and then he rolled us up on our sides, where he finished wrapping me up tightly by encasing my legs in his.
A few humps of his cock in my ass and a little more squirming until I couldn't move at all. This was nice; it probably sounds silly, but captured by Willie like this made me feel so wanted, desired, relaxed, and safe. Just for the hell of it, I tried squirming out of his grasp. Willie tightened the grips of his arms and legs until I was helpless and might just as well let my muscles relax. As soon as he sensed I was totally docile for him, he humped his cock in my hole a few more times, just to show me he could, and then let up on his grip just a tad.
We lay there quietly, catching our breath and enjoying the feel of each other's bodies; the only sounds came from our breathing. I felt him rubbing his nose against the hair on the side of my head, and then he quietly said, "Ah, you smell so nice, Dylan. Stay like this," and he began another hickey. He wants me to have one of his hickeys when we go on a date.
Carl did the same thing; maybe that's where Willie got the idea. At first, it felt sexy for him to suck on a small patch of my neck, but soon it began to burn, and when I groaned and tried to squirm, he tightened everything down again, humped by hole with his hardening boner a few times, and pressed my head further to the side. That's called domination, so I lie still for him, being as docile as possible.
Hickeys are usually just red welts of broken blood vessels under the neck skin. They're caused, as I said, by someone sucking and tonguing that one small area, but Willie overdid it because he wanted a raised welt that was immediately obvious to anyone who glanced at me. It's a very visible mark of possession that said I was Willie's boyfriend. When he had sucked it so long I thought I'd scream, he finally was satisfied and mumbled to himself, "Okay, that's a good one".
Willie was breathing hard for a minute, and then, right in my ear, he whispered, "This hickey is perfect, and that was an awesome fuck we just had. Have I told you how much I love your pussy, Dylan?" I could tell he was smiling when he said that, and I should have let it pass without comment, but I didn't. I said, "I hate when you call my ass a pussy. That's Larry talking, and I don't like him. Call my ass an ass."
Willie tightened up on my body alarmingly, both his arms and legs; he mumbled, "Why do you need everything to be your way? What's the difference if I want to call your ass a pussy? Why focus on something so insignificant? When I fuck you, your ass is a pussy to me."
Holy shit, he actually believes I get my way all the time! What? Unable to think of a good retort that wasn't sarcastic sounding, I said nothing. He said, "Why can't it be a pussy when I fuck it, Dylan?" I muttered, "Okay, I guess it's a pussy if you want to think of it as that. It's not, but..." Willie took a deep breath and said, "Okay, good."
I don't really care, except it makes Willie sound like Larry, who is an asshole. And, you know, I'm starting to realize that Willie can have a new boyfriend tomorrow if he drops me. He says he loves me, but if I keep being bitchy about unimportant things, he might reconsider, and I do not want to lose him.
We were both silent for five minutes, but when I acquiesced that my ass was a pussy if he insisted on calling it that, I felt Willie's cock firming up big-time up my ass, um, I mean, my pussy. I'm comfortable with the silent treatment. I'll let it go on almost indefinitely, mostly because I can hardly ever come up with the right thing to say. Finally, in a very contrite voice, Willie took a deep breath and said, "Would you like me to do you again, baby, or are you feeling good like this?"
I guess he was trying to make up for being a hard ass about the pussy word, but I'm a world-class pouter, so I said, "I don't care," when I, of course, wanted it again. He said, "I already know about your pouting, so I'll give you another chance. Would you like me to do you again?" This time I said, "Un-huh," and I nodded.
Willie, in a more playful voice, said, "Well, you'll need to ask me for it. Tell me what you want," and I saw where this was going, but I hate confrontations more than him, so I gave in and, in my version of a playful voice, said, "Would you please fuck my pussy, Willie" and he mutters, "Good boy," and he started in with a fuck that lasted a good fifteen minutes.
We repositioned to get on our sides initially, but before we were through, he rustled me around on my bed in several positions, fucking me really good with that long cock of his. It simply felt fabulous; it's the best feeling I know in this world, and maybe it's the best feeling in any world. Two minutes before my second climax of the night, I was on my back; Willie had my legs spread out flat on the bed at my sides; he was on his knees with sweat dripping off his forehead, fucking my boy pussy like there was no tomorrow.
Feeling out of control with pleasure, I let out a squeal as a spurt of cum flew out of my cock, landing about two inches up on my belly. It felt so amazingly good that I almost passed out. It was so intense, and it was followed by a spurt of cum that never broke free of my cock head. After the first climax twenty minutes ago, only small amounts of cum this time, but they felt fantastic while my balls were working overtime, churning cum up from my nuts to my dick and out into the atmosphere. Willie took another two minutes fucking my hole before shooting his small second load up inside me.
He pulled out right afterward, laughing in a good-natured way while complaining, "Oh, my dick, Dylan. The head of my cock is super sensitive." He was serious. "It burns," he said smiling, then added, "But it was worth it. What a fuck that was. Huh?" I nodded, "I'll say, Willie. My pussy feels awesome." He looks thrilled, excitedly saying, "Damn, I almost took both of us over the side of this tiny bed when I got you on your back, huh?Goddamn, that was fun!"
I said, "I loved it too, baby." He stopped chuckling and frowned at me because I called him baby. He didn't want to start another fight, so he smirked at me, shaking his head. We flopped side by side with Willie holding his penis head away from contact of any kind. After a few minutes, he insinuated his arm under my neck, and pulled my head over to kiss the side of my forehead, and said, "Are you still mad at me? I heard that sarcastic baby comment." I shook my head and kissed me again.
A minute later, he murmured, "I love lying here with you, but we really ought to be heading out to the block party. It's been super awesome lying in your bed fucking you, but we're expected, and I want to show off my fabulous boyfriend.
We clean up in the bathroom, and then Willie admires himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, running his fingers through his short hair, muttering, "My hair is growing out faster than yours, Dylan." I took that opening to say, "Oh, I wanted to ask you something about that, Willie. Um, what do you think about me getting a buzzcut?"
I asked him that as part of my plans for the upcoming hideous Saturday overnight with Joel, who insisted my hair be no longer than half an inch as it was after my haircut at that military barbershop weeks ago. Willie looked at me and said, "Oh, um, I don't like the same length all over, but I screwed us up last time, so I'm staying out of haircut decisions. I suck at that."
Frowning, Willie asks, "Why are you asking about a haircut?" I shrug, "It's summer and..." He grins and said, "As my boyfriend, you'll have the same hairstyle as me." Saying that as if it's a joke," and he rubbed my head.
Fuck! Who knows what Joel will do if I don't get it cut? In an offhand manner, Willie mumbles, "I can take you to the Wellesley barbershop, where I first got that flattop haircut. Remember?" I'm sick of haircut talk. The Marine and Joel, and Larry, all use haircuts as one more way to show who is dominant, and I'm caught in their web as a powerless submissive. I don't know what to do, which isn't all that unusual.
Shorty, we were on our way to Cambridge and the gayborhood block party. Jeez, I couldn't help but think about the sex Willie and I just had and how good it had been. The big hickey Willie gave me burns, but other than that, I felt relaxed and wonderfully satisfied. Looking over at Willie, I'm thinking how lucky I've been since coming out as gay. Willie and I were coming together so perfectly, but I did need to admit to myself that my plan of using baby steps to get him to realize that the dominant/submissive thing was stupid was making some progress.
Most of the time Willie treats me as I'm a special treasure he was lucky enough to have stumbled upon, so it's all cool. Nobody except Chubby has ever treated me like I'm very special. Most guys ignore me, while Willie does the opposite! I remembered that rush I got when I fucked Robby, and he acted submissive to me. I can see things from both sides now, and I can see sub/dom behavior is harmless if it's just done in good fun. A madman like the Mohawk man or Joel is an entirely different story. It can be ugly with crazy people.
I'm sure I'll be in for a rough time with Joel next weekend, and it's outrageously unfair that I need to put up with it to keep my job, but no one ever said life was fair. Doing what Joel wants will be horrendous, but Cubby and I are planning on paying back everyone we need to once we've got the money we want. Me being pretend submissive to Willie during sex, is playtime. That's the toy store of life with fun and games with Willie. Of course, the fact that I love him might have something to do with how I rationalized away anytime he overdoes something.
In Cambridge, we didn't get lucky with a parking spot this time, and it was a six-block walk from where Willie parked the car to the block party. On the way, Willie walked with his arm around my waist as usual. Others were walking ahead and behind us, so I asked in a really low voice, "Ah, Willie, remember at Sea Isle you said you'd walk with your arm around my shoulders when other people were around?" In a good-natured way, Willie says, "First off, it was my arm around your neck, not around your shoulders, and secondly, yes, I do mind because I want everyone to know you're my boyfriend."
I huffed an exaggerated exhale and thought about Sea Isle and that Sunday morning after lying in bed hung over. I'd asked him where he'd gotten his ideas for proper dating protocol, such as the arm around your boyfriend's waist when walking. He hadn't known what I was talking about. It's comical the way Willie can be so unassuming, and the next thing I know, we're doing things exactly how he wants.
Willie's arm still around my waist pulled me against him, and I wondered when it was that I'd fallen in love with him. It's not as if a light suddenly turned on in my head or anything like that; it's more like an afterthought. Hey, I'm in love with him! It was sometime during the weekend in Sea Isle City; probably when he put his foot down with me, but afterward, he was so clever downplaying everything that he still somehow made me fall in love with him. He has a magnetic personality, as far as I'm concerned he does. All the things he can do and has already done, as well as all the people he knows, fascinate me.
As we walked toward the block party, sharing a cigarette, most people around us paid us little mind, except three guys around a bench, passing a quart bottle of beer back and forth. The bench they were lounging on was in this well-manicured common area we were walking by. They appeared to be about twenty years old or so. The one who looked like a young Leonardo Di Caprio shouted, "You girls look cute together. Do you want to have a good time giving us head?"
Willie flashed them the finger and yelled back, "Hey, fuck you, losers! Shouldn't you be shining shoes somewhere?" I was shocked he would call these three out, and not only that, but he stopped to challenge them to do something about it. They stayed where they were, shouting back, "Move it along, queers, you're giving the neighborhood a bad odor." They were less enthusiastic with that last insult than their initial one. Willie laughed at them, gave them the finger again, and yelled, "Practice this line, assholes: Do you want fries with your order?"
He tugged on my side, and we sauntered on our way as the three guys called after us, "Homos..." I've been in my share of fights; Chubby and I have, but antagonizing three healthy twenty-something-year-old guys isn't a move I'd recommend. Leave sleeping dogs lie, pretend you didn't hear them, or something like that would have been my approach. Not Willie's, and it's funny, too, because usually he's oblivious to surroundings that don't interest him. He seems to be aware of every step I take, of course, but all the other people walking by us might as well be invisible as far as Willie's concerned, except this time.
Maybe Willie felt he was protecting the honor of his boyfriend, who happens to be me. I'd encourage him not to do that if I thought it would do any good. The entire episode made me laugh once we were down the block. Hearing me chuckle, Willie absently asks, "What's so funny?" He had already put that incident into the junk pile. Chubby and I would go over it twenty times, embellishing the tale till it was almost unrecognizable. It's fun to do that sometimes.
Another block and I heard music, which told me we were just around the corner from the block party. It was club dance music, not music you hear
regularly on mainstream FM radio. A hot beat and no lyrics, but it's cool! The first guys we see are the two I met when we went to
the movies in Cambridge many weeks ago, Jeremy Goldman and Martin Remington. Both fellows are obviously gay, although supposedly not
boyfriends. They were both twenty-two, and we all did quick hugs and air kisses.
Willie asked, "Have you put on some weight, Jeremy?" Martin laughed, saying, "Only twelve pounds," and Jeremy muttered, "What a liar you are, Martin," and he looked right at me and said," WOW! Look at the hickey Willie gave Dylan!" Jeremy says, "Move over, Martin, let me see." Then he giggles and goes, "Oh my God, I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about Willie sucking on that tender neck of yours, Dylan. Ooooh, you two are soooo lucky to have each other!"
Willie and I smirked, and kept walking, Jeremy and Martin were with us now. I could see up ahead there were tables and many were covered with plates containing different food dishes, some hot and some cold is what it looked like. Maybe fifty different food selections. Two large grilles with barbecuing chicken and other meats. I'd guess there were at least a hundred people, probably more, and I saw a group of six just walking into the blocked-off area now, so the crowd is still growing.
All the food smelled good, and I was hungry. We got in the food line, and Martin said, "I'd like to lick your ass like a doggie, Dylan." Willie mumbles, "When did you start doing heavy drugs, Martin?" He gets a, "Humph!" from Martin, who then muttered, "I'm old, but I just love the twinks, and I always will." Willie rolled his eyes, saying, "You're twenty-two, Martin."
We got paper plates and began loading on various side dishes. There were aluminum picnic tables and chairs, plenty of modern-looking port-a-potties, coolers on tables with all types of soft drinks and beers, two bars for hard drinks, plus all the great music and colored strings of lights hanging all over, and a nice dance floor with a professional DJ playing the tunes. The whole block was alive with conversation, dancing, and eating, with a background of loud laughter and a high excitement level overall.
Willie bought twenty dollars' worth of a fifty-fifty raffle while I got everyone soft drinks. Willie says, "We'll get ourselves some vodka drinks after we eat, Dylan. Martin said we should have wine with our meal. Willie and I are like, "Yuck!" The food was very good, and we all ate our first plate without much talking. Willie finished first and me second. "Let's get another plate of food, Dylan." I nodded, swallowing the last bite on my plate, a
forkful of chicken salad. As I got up to go with him, Willie beamed at me and said, "You're even yummier than the food," then he kissed my mayonnaise-covered lips, mumbling, "Yum!" We went off for the barbecued chicken, some sweet molasses baked beans, and some kind of
Chinese noodle salad.
Willie has expanded my world, given me so many new experiences, and introduced me to new people. Speaking of new people, two were at our picnic table when we returned with our replenished plates. As soon as Willie saw them, he screamed, "Lonny! You made it! and Terry O'Neil, too." They both got right up and sweetly mauled Willie. Neither Lonny nor Terry were teenagers, but I couldn't tell how old they were; somewhere
between twenty and thirty is my best guess, probably closer to thirty.
I would have assumed they were both gay, no matter the circumstances. Lonny had make-up on, and his hair was longish, emo style, with hair covering one eye. He had rings on both thumbs and a strong cologne/perfume smell that was very spicy, not horrible, but strong. He wore dark-colored clothes and was thin and tall. On the other hand, Terry looked almost normal except for the nose ring and the tattoo on the side of his neck. He was shorter than me and pudgy with preppy clothes, a Madras button-down shirt, pleated Bermuda shorts, and topsiders on his sock-less feet. Quite a contrasting pair. Lonny did all the talking for the duo, reminding me of the twins in Wildwood.
When Willie introduced me to Lonny, he squealed, "Willie, you finally got your perfect boyfriend! How marvelous! And, is that a humongous hickey I see, or did Dylan swallow an apple?" Lonny limp-wristed a wave at me, saying, "Willie's been looking for you for years. He's so particular, and he finally found what he's been looking for. And the size of that hickey tells me you're one lucky boy, too! Give me a kiss!" He pulled my head roughly over to him and kissed my lips, leaving greasy-feeling lipstick behind. He screamed, "Oh no! Willie will get mad," meaning the lipstick he'd left on me.
He pulled out what looked to me like a lady's hanky, spit on it, and wiped the lipstick off my lips. Willie chuckled, "Poor Dylan, Lonny already has a crush on him." Terry groaned, "Oh God, not another one." Willie explained that he'd met these two a few years ago at a gay outreach program that one of the churches in Cambridge was having. None of them joined the church, but they all hit it off and have been doing things together every couple of months for two years. Lon and Terry are a couple. They own a spa/salon situated not far from where we were. Lon does make-up
and nails and Terry is the hairstylist. It's a unisex salon catering mainly to gays and rich women from Beacon Hill and Cambridge. "Oh my
goodness, the liberal, rich, straight woman can't love us enough, can they, Terry?" Lonny was effervescent about everything.
When we couldn't eat anymore, Willie, Lon, Terry, and I went to buy adult beverages. At this block party, if you have the money, you're old enough to drink. Jeremy and Martin went to the dance floor. We got grapefruit juice and vodka, for which Willie paid five dollars each. The alcoholic drinks helped cover the cost of the block party, I was told. I enjoyed being with these gay young men. This is the first time I've been with multiple gays, and it was relaxing and somehow reaffirming that we're here and we're okay.
We finished our first drinks, and Willie got everyone a second. Lon and Terry were drinking white wine that Terry let me taste. It was ghastly! Lonny said, "Do you have Dylan in girl's panties yet, Willie? That's always been your fantasy, right?" He asked that as if he were asking if Willie liked chocolate cake." Frowning, I mutter, "Girl's panties?" Lonny says, "Oh yeah, it's Willie's dream. If he ever found one, he wants his boyfriend to wear girlie silky panties with little bows and frilly lace."
I snicker nervously, assuming Lonny was trying to break my balls. Lonny grinned and asked, "C'mon, don't be shy. Can you show us a little peek at what they look like?" Willie said, "He doesn't know about the panties fantasy, Lon! Not until you opened your big mouth." Then Willie squeezed my shoulder, giggled, and added, "I'm sneaking up to tell him about the panties." Willie and Lonny were laughing, but I think they were serious. Lon goes, "Dylan, please wear them for your boyfriend. I want to see how proud he'll be if you do." I'm like, "Huh?" Willie pulls my head over and says, "Would you do that for me, baby? Wear the silky panties I buy for you?"
He seriously meant it, and although I wanted him to be able to show off for his friends, I didn't want to wear girls' panties. Nevertheless, I mumbled, "I guess I will if you really need me to." Willie nodded at Terry and Lon and said, "See..." Muttering, "You rock, Willie!" Lonny did a limp-wristed version of a high-five with Willie. Willie beamed at me, and I felt proud to have come through for him.
Lon says, "Let's dance." The four of us joined Martin and Jeremy on the dance floor. Willie and I did four fast dances in a row. I concentrated on the dance steps Willie had taught me at his mother's birthday party. After the first dance, Willie said, "You've got good rhythm, Dylan; try this move. After you do this, do this twice," he taught me a new step. It was so cool! He's a great dancer, one of the best I saw all night. We worked up a nice little sweat on our faces, and when the DJ played a slow song, Willie and I wrapped our arms around each other and swayed with the music, the sides of our sweaty faces pressed together, and I am so deeply in love with him I hardly know what to do. I'll do whatever he wants.
I could feel the vodka doing its job on my head, and I was very relaxed, having a wonderful time. During the second slow song, Lon said, "Can I dance with Dylan, Willie?" Willie smiled and nodded, then joined Terry at the table, where Terry had bought another round of drinks. I watched Willie, thrilled to be his boyfriend. Lonny was a pretty good dancer, too. I hadn't expected him to be because he was so tall. I'm five foot ten, and he was three or four inches taller. It's a minor thing, but when dancing with Willie, of course, he leads, but I wondered why Lonny assumed he'd lead. Well, I'm a good follower.
He held me close, and with him leading, we had a smooth time. He smelled good, or I should say his cologne smelled good. After the dance, he kissed me a little too long, right on the lips again, and this time with a little tongue. Then he cleaned the lipstick off my lips using that same hanky and spit technique from earlier. My eyes were looking down as he scrubbed my lips, and I could see the long outline of his semi-hard cock. The length of it made me gulp. It was even longer than Willie's.
We walked back to join our boyfriends at the table. I sat beside Willie, and he put his arm around me, pulling me up against him. Almost immediately, a fat kid who looked about our age came over and kissed Willie on the cheek. Willie looked up and said, "Hi, Walter! Whaazzz up?" Walter says, "Nothing much, I came to see your boyfriend. Everybody says he's cute," Walter is looking me over, mumbling, "What the fuck! Everyone is right, too."
I roll my eyes as he glances at Willie, asking, "Do you mind?" Willie mumbles, "No, go ahead." Walter plants a wet kiss on my mouth, holding the kiss for three or four long seconds, and then said, "Sweet!" Because Walter ignored him Lonny, Lonny muttered, "What a delightful, overweight person you are, Walter." Then, after doing something feminine, moving his head and shoulders, he sweetly said, Come on, Terry, let's dance."
We all gave a half-hearted wave, Walter frowning at the overweight comment, and then Willie, Walter, and I wandered over to one of the bars, and Willie bought us another drink. I hadn't touched the third one at the table yet, but this new one was ice cold, and I couldn't even taste the vodka, so
I drank it pretty fast. I felt dizzy right after that. Walter said, "Guess who's here, Willie? I saw him earlier." Willie said, "Don't tease me and say Charles Neil is here." Walters says, "Yep, in the flesh, and he asked me if you were here. I knew you were 'cause the guys were talking about your boyfriend."
Willie put his arm across my shoulders, pulling me against his side, asking Walter, "Where'd you last see Charles?" Walter said, "It was an hour ago near the DJ stand. Willie mumbled, "Let's see if we can find him," so we headed to the DJ stand with a jealous pang in my heart. I asked, "Who is this guy, Willie."
Walter and Willie exchanged glances, and then Willie said, "Um, well, ah...
To be continued...