DYLAN! By Donny Mumford

DYLAN!

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Oh, shit, Jake Rollin's car is parked in front of our condo. Mom is at work, so what's her boyfriend doing here?

I took out my cell phone to call Mom and see if she knew why Jake was there, but no, I couldn't do that because Mom gets yelled at by her boss if I call her at work. She says, "Major emergencies only, Dylan!"

Fuck! Instead of going inside my condo, I walked up the block smoking a cigarette to kill some time, hoping Jake will leave. The cigarette was giving me a headache but I need it because there's so much going on right now, some really good things and some not so good, namely Jake. It took twenty minutes to walk to the convenience store, buy an eight-pack of strawberry/kiwi Snapple, and slowly walk back to the condo. Jake's car is still there!

Reluctantly I climbed the steps to the condo's front door and tried the knob... it's opened. Jake is inside, I guess. I scrunch up my nose, thinking, "Wait a minute, is Mom off work today? Could they be in there doing the nasty together? God, I hope not, or I'll be hurling all over the condo."

I pushed the door open, and no Jake. Putting the Snapple in the refrigerator, I hear some noise from the finished basement and, with trepidation, go down to check it out. There's Jake building shelves in the washer/dryer area. He turns around and says, "Well, if it isn't the sexy puppy himself, wassup?"

Jake is looking good. I hate to say it, but it's true. His face was mature, but yet somehow still boyish. He was bare-chested; I could see he'd lost a little weight, so his body was tight and white, the kind of white skin that redheads often have, a few freckles on his shoulders. He had a hairless chest, just a wispy red-haired happy trail from his belly button downward, disappearing into his nylon sweat pants. Nice muscle definition, too. He's strong looking, but not in a grotesque way like some bodybuilders.

The sweatpants he was wearing outlined a really nice-looking ass that I consciously didn't look at after that first quick glance. Jake is a good-looking dude, alright. Mom and Tris think he's the cutest thing they've ever seen, and he's definitely younger looking than his age, which I think is twenty-eight or there about. As I said before, he's too young for my Mom and too old for me, but he won't stop coming around.

He'd just gotten a short haircut that further enhanced his youthful appearance. Damn, the haircut looked cool and made me wish Willie would change his mind about our long hairdos. I gotta agree that most gay guys, and straight women, probably think Jake's hot and I guess he is, but I just don't like him. He makes me nervous and intimidates the hell out of me. I stood-up to him that one time, but it was only because I felt I'd got the goods on him when he drunkenly kissed me.

To Jake's, "wassup?" I mumbled a stuttering, "Wha...? I mean, are you supposed to be here?" He shakes his head and sarcastically says, "Oh no, phatboy, I'm breaking and entering so I can build these fucking storage shelves for your mother. What ya think, Stinky?"

I mumble, "Oh, I knew you didn't break in, I just didn't expect you to be here, that's all". He put the power screwdriver on the washing machine and leaned back with his arms folded across his chest. "Let me ask you something, moptop. What's with the girlie long hair? You used to have a nice neat haircut. Hey, you want me to cut that shit for you? I don't know anything about cutting hair, but I found those barber things over there. I could use them, and anything I did would be an improvement."

Jake was pointing to the satchel I keep Chubby's and my barber clippers, scissors and combs in. Trying to sound indignant, I say "That satchel was in the bottom drawer of my desk, in my bedroom. What were you doing in there, and what's the satchel doing down here?"

He makes a face and says, "Jesus Christ, drop the drama queen act. I was looking for some power tools." Nodding his head at the power screwdriver, "I finally had to drive to Lowes to buy that, don't you got any tools in the house?"

I shook my head, and sounding whinny even to myself, I asked, "Why's that satchel down here, it don't have any power tools in it?" He slowly walked over to me, get close, infringing on my space ,and said, "You obviously don't use the barber stuff yourself, not with this long hair."

I said, "It's like guys at prep school have. It's cool, but you're too old to understand cool." I don't believe it's cool, and I don't like that Willie insists on it, but I'm not going to agree with Jake.

He snorts and says, "Bullshit, this hairdo looks like you're living in the fucking nineteen eighties or something," and he ran his fingers back from my forehead into my hair and took a big handful of it to jerk my head forward, close to his face. I went, "OW! That hurts!" Holding the fistful of hair even tighter he ignored my complaint of pain and in a stilted, exaggerated manner says, "You don't use the barber stuff, as is obvious, so I was going to ask your mother if I can have it for my Scout Troop. We sometimes give the boys buzzcuts at summer camp. Is that OK with you, Whiny?" another pull on my hair makes me go "OW! OW! Stop... I do so use those clippers. I use that stuff to cut my friend's hair."

Jake slowly appeared to be forcing himself to calm down, our faces were close together. Then, a two-toned, blond, pulled-out hair drifted between our eyes. His fist still held the fistful of hair, but he began letting up the pressure and breathing more regularly. Jake appeared to be getting control of himself.

I stared at him as he stared at me, and his expression gradually was back to normal. Finally, maybe twenty seconds of scary silence later, he released my hair altogether and rubbed my head, then massaged it with both hands as I stupidly stood there. He said, "Jesus, hot stuff, that's the silkiest hair I've ever felt. Okay, the barber tools are yours. I won't ask your Mom about letting me have them." He turned around, picked up a shelf board and fitted it in the unit he was building. It looked like a very professional finished carpentry job to me.

I stood there, my heart pounding and my scalp aching in the front where he'd pulled my hair. Absently finger-combing my hair where Jake had mussed it, I took a big breath and worked up the courage to say, "You can't treat me that way, Jake. It ain't right, man. You hurt me, and for no reason."

Over his shoulder he mumbled, "I'm sorry, Dylan. I was just messing with you, that's all. Don't tell your Mommy on me, little girl. Okay?" My face was hot and I didn't like that little girl reference one bit. Gaining a little confidence from his half-assed apology, I go, "You're a psycho...ya know that? You should seek some fucking professional help."

Jake kept working without speaking, so I felt I'd better quit while I'm sort of ahead. You know, getting in the last word. I climbed the steps and went outside for another cigarette. When I'm stressed it's the first thing I think of; have a smoke. I smoked my Marlboro Light, got the mail out of the mailbox, sauntered inside the condo and went directly to my room. That fucking Jake! Maybe I would tell my Mom. Nah, I'm no baby, plus it could lead to other things. Things like the revelation I'm gay, or something. I played with my computer a while and then laid on my bed thinking I'd jerk-off as soon as the asshole leaves. It looked to me like he was almost done the shelving unit a half hour ago. Then my door is pushed slowly open and Jake comes in with the satchel in his hand. I think, "Uh-oh!"

Back to using a sarcastic tone, Jack says, "Well homo-pussyboy, here's your precious barber stuff," and he throws the bag against the bottom of my desk drawer, the clippers fly out and the various length comb attachments flying around the room. "Oops, so sorry... it slipped. I'm clumsy, but us psychos are known for being clumsy, right Pookie?"

I was scared of him. He's unbalanced and how come my Mom doesn't notice that? I meekly say, "I'll get them; don't worry about it." He starts to leave, shakes his head and turns around to snarl, "Nobody calls me a psycho, you skinny, girlie, spoiled brat. Who the fuck do you think you are?"

He was getting all worked up again, so I just stared at him, probably looking like a deer in the headlights. He says, "You think you're special, is that it, faggot?" and he came over to my bed and roughly pulled me off the bed, got me turned around so my back was against his chest, my arms wrapped tight to my sides. Jake leaned over to talk right into my ear, "You need to be taken down a peg or two, little girl. You need a good fucking is what you need, get your pussy all filled up with some manly cock, not the little boy cock your skinny boyfriend has. If he even has a cock."

I mumbled, "Jake, I'm sorry I called you a name. I was mad about my stuff being moved, that's all. Let me go." He licked my ear and then a long lick on my neck behind my ear, going "Mmmmm, whoa, you taste good, sweetie."

I tried moving my head away, while whining, "Stop it! I'll call the cops on you." He goes, "Your Mom's my girlfriend, for Christ sakes. I have to hear about every little thing you do. She never stops talking about you, I know when you go poo poo or pee pee." He put his tongue in my ear. I start squirming for real now, and he whips my body around, pulling me off my feet while still holding me in the bear hug, my arms still pinned to my side. I'm struggling, but it's futile. He's very strong, scary and out of control.

I'm quickly out of breath and need to rest. He's sounding shrilly excited when he says, "You got me really horny now Dylan, there's no use me trying to avoid it. You and me are doing it here and now and the hell with the consequences. I'm like, "You'll go to jail for this. It's not as simple as a drunken kiss, you know!"

Seemingly rational, he says, "Hell, you're eighteen, you're gay, and you've been sucking cock and getting fucked for at least a year now. I saw the way you two boys were going at it behind the refreshment stand."

I frantically say, "It's still rape, Jake. You'll be fucked." He mutters, "No, I won't," and starts kissing the side of my face. I try struggling with all my might again, kicking at his shins and ankles, throwing my head back towards his face trying to hit his nose or chin. He gets wicked pissed when I finally do connect with his nose. It was a hard blow with the back of my head, and it hurt him. Jake is much stronger than me, though, and he literally throws me on the bed; then, with shocking quickness he grads my left hand with both of his and bends it back toward my wrist. The pain was immediate and incredible. I stopped all movement to concentrate on the pain, a pain so bad I couldn't even cry out.

This was an incapacitating hold he had on me. I was completely at his mercy. He didn't seem to have much mercy at the moment, though, as he maintained the pressure, tears running down my face. I was finally able to say, "Please, you don't need to do this."

He said, "Yes, I do, and we're doing it. You can be part of it the easy way or the hard way, so what's it going to be stud?" He was sounding more normal again, although this was hardly normal behavior. I said nothing because I'm not cooperating with him. I was resigned to the pain.

After a bit, he mumbled, "The hard way, then. Okay, fine with me. Get up."

"No!" is all I could manage to say. He put the tiniest extra pressure on my hand and the pain level in my wrist soared upward. I realized I couldn't fight the pain, so I struggled off the bed and stood bending forward at my waist with my tortured arm behind me. Jake only needed one hand to apply the pressure now that I was standing. With his other hand he reached in front to unsnap my jeans and pulled them down, first below my balls in front, and then in back, below my ass.

He said, "Pull your pants down further, then get your underwear down," and he put more pressure on my wrist. Guess I wasn't resigned to the pain after all. Without saying anything, I did what I was told. He said, "I'm going to let up on the pressure some so you can turn around and get on your knees. If you give me any shit, I'll just reapply the pressure, got it?"

I managed to say a strained, "Yeah," and was I ever looking forward to that release of pressure. Looking forward to it so much a sob slipped out. Jake said, "Hey, you're the one who wanted it the hard way, Slim, not me," and he let up quite a bit of pressure, and tears rolled down my face, tears of relief this time. It wasn't a boo-hooing kind of crying thing, just tears coming out on their own.

I slowly turned around with my hand still in Jake's grip, "Down on your knees, and take it out." It was awkward getting down with my pants just below my knees, but I managed. His sweat pants didn't have a zipper at the fly, instead there were a number of snaps which I got apart, and then I put my hand inside his boxer shorts fly opening. Yuck, I felt it, a fat, long, mostly boned-up cock with a large helmet shaped head, very large. It was difficult getting that big hunk of meat out past both fly openings because of it was in a boned condition, but I managed that too.

It was big!

Jake muttered, "Into your mouth it goes, skeeter. Suck it nice now, no teeth. You've sucked a lot of cock, I'm guessing, so make it good."

Normally I like sucking cock, but that's when I'm sucking young cocks, not this old fart's cock. There were a number of long pubic hairs, pulled out during my efforts to free that dragon snake from his pants. They were sticking to the bulbous head of his seven-inch, fat cock. I had to deal with them before putting it in my mouth. After brushing them off I covered my teeth with my lips and took his cock into my mouth, and it was a mouthful alright!

Jake moved his hips sliding that fat cock back and forth, then sideways and all around as it grew larger. Soon, I was gaging whenever it poked at the back of my throat. After a few repetitions of that, he said, "Suck it, too, dummy."

It was nerve racking, but I did the best I could with that monster, while all the time scared he'd put the hard pressure back on my wrist. Three or four minutes, with Jake going, "Mmmmm, oh yeaaaaah, suck my cock. You like it don't you, Dylan? Suck that big cock."

With no pain to speak of from the wrist, I kept sucking until I felt and tasted precum drooling at the back of my throat. Jake's precum, gross!

He felt it too, and said, "Reach in my pocket and get the condom. You're gonna get the fuck of your life now, poopsie."

My heartbeat picked-up because this big thing in my mouth going up my ass might be more than I can take. Thinking about that painful experience with the Marine a year or so ago, I tried reasoning with Jake one more time, "Please Jake, no rape. You'll ruin your life, man. Jail and all that, so please use your head.

He calmly said, "I'm not worried about it because I don't believe you'll tell anyone about this, spunky. If you do, it's one adult's word against another. Oh, and I'm taking a little of your creamy juice with me for DNA purposes. Just to prove you climaxed too. What do you think about that, wiseguy?"

He seemed so sure of himself, but I got a topper for him, I go, "I hate to break the news to you, Jake, but you fucking me isn't going to make me cum," and then I got infuriated about this whole thing, and yelled, "Maybe I'll vomit, but I sure as hell ain't gonna cum. What do you think about that?"

Jake actually laughed, then said, "You'll be cumming like never before, fag boy. You don't know shit about real homo action, you're playing at being gay with that sweet looking little boyfriend of yours. You're like a couple of girls."

I screamed, "We are not! Willie's got a longer dick than you do, psycho!" He laughed again, and said, "Good to know, I'll be sure and mention that to the police you're going to call on me. You know, Einstein, that will show how you confided in me about your boyfriend. You and me being good buddies and all. You're so naive it's pathetic. Just shut-up, okay?"

My tears had stopped, but now perspiration was running down my face as Jake maneuvered me up onto my feet. I couldn't stop staring at that large cock, his big boner dripping with my saliva, pointing upward, the large dark red helmet head extended past his belly button, the shaft blocking out his happy trail. All in all, looking way too big to fit up my ass. But it was hopeless, I can't stop this. I'm resigned to getting fucked by Jake Rollins.

He had me use my teeth to tear open the condom wrapper I'd just retrieved from his pocket, and then he slid it on that big cock of his with one hand. It was a tight fit over the head and barely covered two thirds of that pulsating organ. "I've been wanting to do this to you from that first day I saw your pretty baby face, and that matching pretty bubble butt of yours. As you surely know by now, I fly round-trip, both ways, and you're about to discover that I know how to please."

Feeling slightly sick to my stomach, but not afraid anymore because I'm resigned to it. I won't participate, though. No helping and no more trying to stop him, either, but a great hate of him has crowded my mind creating an I don't give a shit what you do attitude. Mostly I was concentrating on my revenge, and I thought of my boyfriend Robby who almost caused Joel's death removing the axle pin of his ride-on mower last summer. Robby did it because he loves me and wanted to protect me from that maniac, Joel. But this revenge I want to handle myself. Jake is right about one thing, and it's that I'm not telling anybody he raped me.

I'm not for the same reason many woman don't tell that they've been raped; because it would just make a horrid situation even worse.

I'll still be raped whether I tell about it or not, so why add-on all the other humiliation. Humiliations like Jake revealing how I tolerated his previous offensive behavior, including that drunken kiss last summer without telling anyone, and the humiliation of admitting my sexual activities with Willie which Jake would surely bring-up, the humiliation of everyone knowing I was fucked by Jake, and other things that a police investigation will likely turn-up. It would definitely involve Willie and probably Robby, maybe other boys, and I'm not going to take that chance.

No, Jake won't have the police to worry about, but he'll have me to worry about, and probably he won't think he needs to worry about me, which is what I'm depending on.

Anyway, while I've been pumping myself up with these thoughts of revenge, Jake has been fumbling with his pants. He's obviously decided he wants them down like mine rather than have that huge cock sticking out through his fly. He continued to lightly bend my hand back toward my wrist, but not to the real painful level, it just hurt enough to hold my attention.

Satisfied his pants were where he wanted them, he said, "Fun, huh?

Gotta admit kid, you got me really hot to trot. Lay across the bed," and he lowered me there, guided by my captured hand.

As soon as my belly hit the bed he let go of my hand and, as he'd done earlier, he grabbed a fistful of my hair. Goddammit, Willie's long hair style provides a perfect way to hold me in place. Jake couldn't have grabbed my flattop hair.

"Get your ass up some, Dylan, take this like a man. Don't embarrass yourself." I lifted my ass slightly and he yanked on my hair, saying, "Don't piss me off again, sweetie. Get it up more," so I pushed my ass up higher, expecting a spanking, but Jake wasn't into that. He spread my legs and pushed the head of that big pole against my little asshole. My precious erogenous anus quivered at the cold lubricant on the condom. Using the handful of my hair, Jake really had my head pulled back, like I'd done to Robby's head in the equipment room's little lavatory.

Frankly, I was surprised with the patience Jake was exhibiting getting his cock inside me, applying subtle pressure at my hole, not abrupt penetration, which might tear my sphincter muscle, or worse. I could feel myself slowly opening-up back there and it was burning too, which wasn't surprising considering the size of Jake's cock.

My anus was soon open enough to take in the first, more pointed, part of that swollen cock head, and then it started sliding in more, and then it was inside me and I groaned, "Owwww, that hurts, Jake. No......." He was breathing loudly through his nose, not saying anything, but he still wasn't forcing the issue. More patience, waiting for my sphincter muscle to accommodate this intrusion. I felt so opened-up, so spread out, so filled-up. The hurt faded and with gentle pressure Jake coaxed his large member further into my rectum, a quarter inch at a time at first. Soon it was going smoother and the feeling of having a large weight inside me began replacing the pain.

I grunted softly as he continued pushing his hard, long, fat boner inside me. Even though I swore to myself I wouldn't help. making a quiet moan, I spread my legs further apart to make the passage easier, then I pushed my ass up more. I couldn't help it; the easier I made it for him, the easier it was for me, too.

Jake stopped when he had about five of his seven-plus inches inside me. I heard him let out a large exhale, then ask, "You doing okay, buddy?" I said, "No, stop this!" and he pulled on my hair halfheartedly, and said, "You'll enjoy it before it's over, hot stuff," then he resumed plowing slowly up my ass. He'd waited plenty long enough, and the going was easier now. I felt the tickle of his considerable bush on my buttocks and then the tickling faded as his large balls lay against both buttocks. His groin tight against my ass cheeks, Jake's enormous cock was completely inside my body and with very little pain, so he sure knows what he's doing. No pain, but it wasn't giving me the thrill of sensations that I get when Willie fucks me.

All those hot sensitive spots in my ass usually have me groaning and moaning in pleasure. Then, he began pulling that fat boner back out and it started feeling better than anything I've ever felt in my life. That huge boner was hitting all the hot spots at the same time. I stifled a moan and put the back of my index finger between my teeth. Oh my God, that big cock of his feels fantastic. Jake knew exactly what he was doing, taking it slowly at first and using that extra lubed condom, and now taking his boner back slowly until it was almost out, then sliding it smoothly all the way back in.

I couldn't stop my moan of pleasure, "Ahhhh. Oh, oh, oh. Mmm..." and Jake murmured, "There you go, little buddy. What an ass you got here," and he took a huge inhale, then pulled back and pushed it in faster. I started wiggling my ass around, nothing can feel better than this, but I was wrong. Jake let go of my hair, he knew I wasn't going anywhere, grabbed me at both hips and picked my pelvic section up off the mattress a few inches which changed the angle of penetration and he began a smooth, quick-paced thrusting using all the seven-plus inches of boner.

My cock started getting hard and I couldn't even pretend this wasn't the most erotic feeling I'd ever felt. The way he moved his hips driving that big fucker up my ass was fantastic. Every hump into me was so firm I felt my body dip an inch, even with Jake holding me up with both his powerful hands. As he pulled his enormous boner back, my pelvic area would rise back to its previous position, then the solid thrust forward up inside me again and I'd dip and inch or so again, and back up, and dip down, and the ride continued, me moaning with pleasure; what an awesome sensation.

Every thrust into my ass I went "Ahhh," and every withdrawal I went "Oh, oh, oh," as he pulled that organ of his out to my sphincter muscle, then immediately he'd slide it back inside till his nuts bounced off the bottom of my buttocks, over and over. My cock was so hard the skin on the head felt like it would split, precum drooling, literally drooling from my pee slit. "Ahhh," Oh, oh, oh," and then I added his name, "ahh, ooh, Jake, ooh.."

After his comment about my ass being awesome, Jake made no sounds except grunting and heavy breathing. The grunting and heavy breathing, though, could only be interpreted as pleasure sounds. He was as aroused as I was. I felt my balls tightening up, getting ready to spew up some spunk, quite a bit of it if the weight of my nuts was any indicator.

Sexual pleasure rolled over me for four or five minutes before Jake grunted out a few words, "Are you just about there, kid? I'm right on the edge of popping off. Sorry it's so quick. Stand up now," and he held me around the chest with both hands, and lifted me off the bed. My feet didn't touch the floor, his cock fully in me throughout the move, and I didn't fight him at all. Now standing, Jake's thrusting hit new sensitive spots as the angle of penetration changed again. "Ah, ah, ah," with each thrust.

I was leaning back against Jake as his hip movements created a quick piston effect with that monstrous cock driving straight into my rectum now, in and out, in and out, in and out. The smoothness and rhythm of his hip thrusts made a thought whiz past my consciousness: Mom has said what a great dancer Jake was, and this hip movement was definitely like a dance. All the way up my ass went the huge swollen head at the end of his seven-inch boner, and then out again, wet now all around my asshole, making a "Slap" sound every time his groin smacked against by ass, "Slap, slap, slap," with Jake grunting with the effort, and me going "Ah!" with each slap because it felt so fucking good.

Saliva was running down the side of my mouth as I moaned with pleasure, rolling my head against Jake's shoulder, the side of his face rubbing my ear. I was up on my toes, pushing back on his boner with each thrust, babbling my mantra of, "Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh." Simply the most amazing feeling I've ever felt. All around my groin, my anus and rectum, especially my rectum, buzzed with itchy pleasure, wave after wave of it. I can't even begin to explain how that cock of his filled me up and hit every spot that exploded with pleasure!

My boner was so hard now it stood straight out from my shaved groin, and that rarely happens with a six-inch cock. Usually, it's pointing up, not straight out. I'd been feeling like it was time to climax for the past two or three minutes, and then it just happened. With Jake loosely holding me around the belly, my hands holding onto his wrist, he grunted and noisily breathed through his nose, all the time fucking my ass almost too fast to count the thrusts. Right on edge, needing to cum more than ever before, and then cum was flying up from my balls. I squealed, bouncing back off Jake's body.

He held me tightly as my shoulders shuddered my cock began shooting thin streams of cum, hard streams that shot out about a two feet before heading downward to land on my bedspread. Each string of cum felt so good coming out, I squealed girlie-sounding, "Eeeee," sounds, like a girl seeing a mouse running over a bare foot.

It was extraordinary, as I'd never climaxed like that before. Three, four, five strings of cum shooting out of my hard, hard cock. It burned and, at the same time, felt better than anything could feel. Then, another hard squirt and another "Eeeee..." each ejaculation clamped down my sphincter muscle on Jake's huge boner. He shook, shaking me, and in a low husky voice, he muttered, "Jesus fucking Christ," filling up his condom.

I let go of Jake's arms and began stoking my cock. Ohhh my, did it feel so good. The aftershock of climax had me shivering all over, my toes curling, my head involuntarily bobbing around, and my eyes blinking.

Then this luscious feeling down my thighs and all around my ass and crotch. Finally, I was as limp as a dishrag in Jake's arms.

He pumped my hole slowly a couple of times, and while pulling out of me, murmuring, "Lord have mercy. Pretty boy, you've got yourself one fine ass."

I couldn't speak, I'd never before had this feeling of being so wide open back there, and because he used a condom, there was no cum rolling out of me like usual. Jake pulled away from me, and I fell forward on my bed, avoiding strings of cum on my bedspread as I fell. The wonderful feeling faded fast because my brain took back control of my dick and reminded me that I was just raped. Frankly, I was weak with it all and couldn't work up the rage I should be feeling. I refused to dwell on the fabulous way my entire body had felt just a minute ago. Mostly, now I felt empty.

Jake was in my bathroom, the toilet flushed, and the tap water was on as he was cleaning up, getting ready for his evening, I guess. I hear, "Dylan, do you mind if I use your comb?"

He'd just raped me, but he asked permission to use my comb. I said nothing and tried to work up some rage instead, but I still couldn't. He came out of the bathroom all put together, and looking good. He sits on the bed next to me. "I know that was the best fuck you've ever had, but I'm not going to make you admit that. It's one of the best fucks I've ever had, too, and I don't mind admitting it. I also know you hate me for punking you out, but there isn't anything I can do about that now."

I wouldn't look at him as my ass, wide open was still quivering with pleasure. He added, "Oh, another thing I know is that you aren't going to tell anybody about this because, frankly, you couldn't take the negative backlash on you that making this public would generate. If it makes you feel any better, I feel like a real shit for doing this to you, and I really do like you, but I don't know, Dylan, there's something so fucking attractive about you I lost control. I'm not blaming you, but Jesus, you're a hottie; you've got to already know that. I'm sure your skinny boyfriend knows it."

He pokes me gently in the side as I lay there on my belly, my face encircled by my arms, "You awake, sexy?"

I muttered, "Just leave, will you, please?"

He says, "I'll make a couple of promises for you. One, I'll never lay another finger on you, ever. I scratched my Dylan itch big time with this and I'm an adult who can admit I made a mistake. I won't make another one. That's a promise. The other thing is this, I owe you. If you get in a jam sometime, get in over your head with something a little shady or anything you can't handle, anytime you don't know who to go to for help, you got me. That's the one I owe you. And, without getting specific, I got the kind of contacts that can handle any situation. It ain't legal, but it's wicked effective, trust me."

That was a helluva long speech and I tried to remember all of it because, at this moment, I have no idea what my revenge is going to be. I was totally drained, though, exhausted from the tension created by Jake the last hour or so, the fright, and finally the fear of the rape and then the actual rape. Yes, it felt amazing, but it was done against my wishes and, like Jake said, I feel punked-out, really bad, and that makes me feel like a powerless punk.

I've got to do a lot more thinking about this disgusting experience. Jake was leaving, but he was still hesitating, standing at the door to my bedroom. He coughed, then said, "There's no reason to be down on yourself, Dylan. I'm the low life in this, not you. Hey, I'm really sorry I did that. I thought I could win you over slowly, but you're so hot, kid, and let's face it, you're a bit of a smart-ass, too. By rejecting me so out-of-hand like you do, I don't know, I lost it today."

I didn't say anything, so he muttered, "I left a card with my cell phone number on the toilet tank lid. When you need Batman and Robin wrapped-up in one, call me and whatever you need is what you'll get, and we both know I'm not talking about anything to do with sex. I already gave you my word on that. I gotta go now," and he left.

I lay in bed for a long time, not realizing I was crying until I noticed my wet pillow. I shook myself to get control of my emotions, and then, staggering off the bed in a fog, I stripped the bed completely, and took the linens downstairs to put them in the washing machine. As I did that, I glanced at the really nice shelving unit my rapist had made. He must have been a carpenter sometime in his life, except he isn't old enough to have had two careers already. Fuck him, though.

In my bathroom, I showered and washed my hair twice thinking how grateful I was that he'd used a condom because the thought of his bare-skin cock touching my asshole... oh, fuck it! I don't want to think about it.

Naked, I made up the bed, then put on some pajamas and climbed under the clean, crisp sheets and cried a little bit more, feeling sorry for myself. I fell asleep and didn't dream.

Chubby woke me an hour later, frantic, "What the fuck you doing in bed, Dylan? When I walked into your condo, I couldn't find you. It scared the hell out of me. I'm looking downstairs and all over, then looking in here I got scared all over again seeing you there in bed with PJs on. It's ten minutes after six; what's wrong?"

I wasn't mad at him for yelling, I know he was yelling because he was afraid something had happened to me, and it had, but I'm not telling him about it. I said, "I thought I was coming down with a cold, but I'm feeling better now."

Chubby was taking off his shoes as I told him that bullshit lie. He said, "Scoot over. You tell me so many lies I don't know what to believe anymore, any one of those lies would cause a polygraph machine to explode, for Christ's sakes."

I had to grin at his outrageousness, when I moved over he got under the covers with all his clothes on, and got his arms around my neck pulling my head to his until his forehead was against mine. He whined, "You've got to stop scaring the shit out of me like this."

When we were little kids, if one of us got hurt and started crying, the other started crying in sympathy. I said, "I'm not the only one. You've scared me after we got our asses kicked by the Chavez brothers and you were in the hospital, and anyway I need some loving from you, so would you make your fabulous homemade chicken soup for dinner, and when it's ready come back and feed it to me here in bed?"

He looked outraged, "Are you out of your fucking mind? Feed it to you?" I got a pathetic look on my face, and said, "Please, Chubby." Getting out of bed he rustled the covers in an exaggerated manner, saying, "I'll make the fucking soup, but I'm not feeding it to you in bed." As he was walking out of my bedroom, I said, "Use the chicken thighs, they're the tastiest part of a chicken." Halfway down the hall, he yells back, "You'll get whatever's in the freezer."

It felt so surreal to me then. In a such a short period of time my life had gone from the horror of Jake Rollins to the beauty and love of Chubby's friendship of a lifetime. Lying in bed, listening to Chubby banging around in the kitchen, I realized I didn't want to mope in bed any longer, and I especially didn't want to think about what to do about the Jake Rollins rape. I'll think about that later. I want to be with Chubby.

He'd picked-up my self-image tremendously with that out-pouring of affection and I needed to be with him for some more of it. It might not seem like an out-pouring of affection to outsiders, but I recognized that it was, and I felt so good about it. I got out of bed, put on a bathrobe, and with bare feet, padded into the kitchen. Chubby was opening a cardboard container of Stop & Shop's Nature Promise brand of Organic Chicken Broth while singing along with a song on the radio. It was the rock group Snow Patrol's song Crack The Shutters ... at the chorus part, Chubby was singing... "Crack the shutters open wide, I want to bathe in the light of day " He sung on with the group even after the chorus was done.

He's got a really good singing voice, but is self-conscious about singing in front of anyone, but me. Looking up to see me, he smiled and sang louder. I know the words and I'd join in except I can't sing nearly as good as Chubby and it would ruin the sound. I like the song... I liked the sentiment, I needed that kind of feeling about bathing in the light of day, that sounds like a positive frame of mind and not about being gloomy or down in the dumps. I need to keep my head up in the aftermath of that horrific Jake experience.

No, it doesn't matter how good it felt during the fuck, it was against my will and that's what matters. Jake knows it was wrong, he admitted it.

What the hell, though, I said I wasn't going to think about that stuff now. The song finished as I was climbing onto one of the kitchen bar stools at the kitchen counter to watch Chubby put the soup together.

I say, "Chubby, you sing good, bro," and he said, "I know," and opens a package of Lipton Soup Secrets Noodle Soup made with real chicken broth. It's a dry soup mix that you're supposed to add water to, but Chubby adds it to the Organic Chicken Broth making that richer tasting. I asked, "What kind of chicken was in the freezer?"

He mumbles, "Chicken thighs, your favorite. Your mother spoils you." I'm like, "Hey, it's my fucking condo, what kind of chicken is in your condo's freezer?"

Chubby strains the dried soup mixture through a strainer to eliminate the tiny noodles. Later he'll add wide egg noodle to the broth; we like them better. Chubby says, "We got chicken breast in our freezer cause they're better than thighs." He sifts just the yellow power from the dry soup into the pot with the broth and then adds five skinless chicken thighs and half an onion, then turns on the stove, and covers the pot so it can simmer for an hour. Chubby looks up at me, reaches over and squeezes my hand, saying "Let's do our homework while this cooks," and that's what we do.

An hour or so later Chubby took the thighs out of the pot and forked the tender meat off the bones, discarded the bones and sinew, and added the wide noodles along with sliced carrots and celery. Those items will cook with the soup for ten minutes. We ate the soup from large soup bowls, our drink for the evening was my Strawberry/Kiwi Snapple, which went perfectly with the soup, but let's face it, it goes perfectly with everything. We also had buttered French rolls.

The flavor from the two types of chicken broth combined with natural flavor from the chicken thighs made a very satisfying soup and the tender pieces of chicken were yummy. I said, "This soup sucks, Chubby. What the fuck did you do wrong?" and he's like "Fuck you then, don't eat it. Here give me yours," and I'm like, "Get the fuck away from my soup, I'm still recovering from the beginnings of the flu."

We're grinning at each other to beat the band. I love him so much. We get in our F-bomb frame of mind at times because we think it's fun to say fuck, and we break each other's balls with insincere insults to show we love each other... brothers love. After finishing the rest of our homework, we went outside to smoke a cigarette and talk about unimportant stuff, goof around with each other. Then a little TV, around ten o'clock Chubby went up to his place for bed. Back in my bed I thought about the rape.

Where is my rage? Am I such a slut that a guy can rape me and I don't care as long as it's the best fuck I ever had? Is that really me? Damn, maybe the way he sincerely apologized, if he even was sincere, is why I'm not in a rage. I believe that he'll never bother me again, and I believe he owes me one. I also believe he knows nefarious individuals that can get just about anything done outside the law to accomplish some revengeful goal. Hmm, I hope I'm never in another situation like that Joel fiasco, but if I am.. .

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com

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