DYLAN! By Donny Mumford

DYLAN!

CHAPTER SIX

Larry was on the toilet, calling out, "Hey, you, what's your name?" I turned, and he said, "Yeah, you. You stay naked so I can see your hot body. That's it; take your shorts off and get us Cokes. Carl and I want to look at that hot body of yours. Go ahead, kid... drop the shorts."

I looked from Larry on the toilet to Carl playing with himself. Carl looked up and said, "What? Oh yeah, can you take off the shorts, Dylan? You know, Larry's in charge, so..." Larry said, "That's right, kid. What Carl said applies to you, too. Not just him; I'm totally in charge of you."

Dropping my shorts, I don't say anything, and then, upstairs, I wonder why he calls me kid. I'm older than him. Ah, fuck it! Larry's okay, a little obnoxious, but he kisses good and fucks great. It's been a fantastic afternoon so far. Gay sex in the afternoon is way cool. Then I thought there was no way Chubby and that dink Ricky were doing anything nearly this hot! I got us three sixteen-ounce Cokes and some pretzels. I put it all on a tray and carried it downstairs. Larry and Carl took a Coke and a handful of pretzels without a word of thanks. Rude bastards.

Larry asked Carl, between gulps of Coke and mouthfuls of pretzels, "How are you going to do him?" Carl said, "I'd like to do him on his back with his legs on my shoulder. You know, because I'd like to watch him giving you head while I fuck him." Larry mumbles, "We really should have a bed for that. I'll want to be kneeling over him with his head between my thighs. I'm definitely deep-throating him." Carl enthusiastically says, "Well, I definitely want to watch that, cousin."

They never included me in any of their conversations about what they would do with me and, you know what? I don't care. I need to hold back a smile, though; their acting so seriously struck me as funny. I hope I never take myself as seriously as these two seem to take themselves. Still, they're great for gay playtime, and I'm looking forward to whatever they decide. I'm new to this, and I find it enthralling. I never thought about sex as a thrilling thing, but I'm finding it to be more thrilling than anything I've ever done.

They're not treating me as an equal, but hell, I'm still a novice, and as a rookie, I know my place, and I've got no problem with it. It's not as if these guys are dangerous or anything. I could probably kick their asses if I had to. Um, well, Larry's for sure! He looked over at me then, and for a second, I wondered: did I say that out loud?

No, I didn't. He said, "We need a bed, Art." I told him my name again, and he shrugged; then I told him, "The sofa you're sitting on opens into a double bed. It's a pullout bed for when we have company." Larry gets up and says, "Get up, Carl." Then, when Carl groans, getting his fat ass up, Larry says to me, "Show me." Taking off the cushions, I pulled on the loop in the front, and the lower section pulled out to a full-size bed. It even had a fitted sheet on the mattress part. "Way to come through, Don!" Larry said, and then goosed my bare ass. Those two have put on their shorts, but I'm still naked, and I feel completely comfortable with that.

Carl flops on the bed as if he's six years old, which causes Larry to raise his voice, "For Christ's sake, Carl, don't break the fucking thing before we get a chance to use it." I can't get used to Larry bossing Carl around. I was used to Carl being the authority figure, and he still will be when Larry goes home, but for now, it's weird to see Carl do what he's told. Of course, I do what I'm told. That goes without saying.

Larry looks at me, saying, "Clean up these Coke bottles and take the pretzel bowl back to the kitchen. Then I want to make out with you again." I grin, "Really? You want to make out again. Awesome, Larry!" I collect the empty bottles and carry them and the bowl to the kitchen. When I get back down to the rec room, Carl and Larry are naked, and I guess we're ready to go. I want to make out with him again, so I'm excited.

He motioned for me to come to him. Purposely not looking at Larry's face, I came right over, and he pulled me down onto the bed with Larry under me. He immediately rolled me over so he was on top, and while grinding his crotch into mine and holding my head between his hands, we

repeated our first hot make-out. My face was surrounded by Larry's long, silky, dark brown, nice-smelling, clean hair. I thought I was going to cum before he was done with me. Larry, huffing and puffing, at one point, had to lie on me with his face beside mine and catch his breath. As with our first make-out, we had so much spit and wet hair all over our faces that you'd think we were in a spitting contest, assuming there is such a

thing. However, his saliva wasn't as fresh or clean tasting after the Coke and pretzels.

Larry's mouth and tongue were so talented for making out, though, that I almost forgot about his looks. Still, I kept my eyes closed to be on the safe

side and just marveled at how excellent it is to kiss another boy. That revelation might be the most surprising of all the surprising things I've been

experiencing over the past few months. Carl finally muttered, "Fuck, I'm so hot watching you two. Can't I join in somehow, Larry? Let me have a turn with him."

Lifting his face, Larry said, "What am I, the scout leader here, Carl? If you want to make out with him, arrange it with him. Anyway, we've got to get this fucking show going. Look at the time." Carl was like, "Holy shit! Where did the time go?" They had to be home for dinner soon, but there was still time to fuck. Carl situated me on my back in the middle of the mattress, him on his knees, between my legs. He picked up my legs and rested them on his shoulders, one on each side.

He had a condom packet in one hand and was stroking his already firm-looking cock in his other hand. He said, "Scoot closer to me so your pussy is looking at me." I did that, but I'm getting tired of the pussy references, so I complained. "Don't call my ass a pussy, or maybe you'll need to actually go find a pussy to fuck." Carl chuckled and said, "Shut up," but said it in a friendly way. I got a shiver because it's like Carl and I are boyfriends now. My first one!

Carl didn't roll the condom on. He muttered, "The three of us are clean," and without warning, he drove his bare boner all the way up my ass, his groin squishing my buttocks, his cock way up inside me. He held me in place by holding the back of my legs tightly to his chest. I rolled my head, scrunching my face with the pain, almost blowing my load simultaneously because his naked boner was inside me. I murmured, "My boyfriend," but fortunately, Carl was letting out a noisy breath that was loud like a cough and didn't hear my embarrassing, girlie boyfriend cry.

Unconcerned about my girlie moans of arousal, Carl pulled back his big, hard cock and pushed it way back up there again, then did it again, grunting, "Feels good." I was squirming on the mattress as he did it twice more. My eyes were shut tightly, but I refused to cry out, although it was still painful. Painful but the sexiest I've ever felt, too.

In a hoarse voice, Larry said, "Yeah, Carl, do him. Hump him hard!" Carl didn't need any encouragement, though. He fucks me hard all the time. He was working his boner in and out of my rectum much easier now, and as always, it began to feel so good it's hard to describe. There's something about Carl's penis that matches something in my asshole because he hits all the hot spots, all the sensitive nerve endings inside me. He gets me moaning in ecstasy, licking my lips, and stroking myself to match his thrusting.

Carefully lifting one knee over my chest, Larry sits, straddling my head, his back to Carl. He's almost sitting on my forehead with his semi-hard penis lying on my face. He moved his penis over my face, and it got hard quickly. Carl was grunting with the effort of fucking me deep and fast as Larry put his hand under my neck and lifted it as his other hand pushed down on my forehead, getting my neck in an uncomfortable backward position with my mouth wide open. Larry casually pushed his boner down my throat, his dark pubic hair all around my face, some up my nose, a lot in my mouth. He moans, "Oh, fuck, that feels good!"

Well, so much for teaching me how to do it. I was already doing it with my Marine, anyway. Larry patted my cheek, mumbling, "Keep the teeth covered, kid," and he started fucking my mouth and throat. It went in easier in this position than when the Marine deep-throated me, and Larry's boner isn't as big around. Still, deep-throating is very uncomfortable for me, but being fucked at both ends is a hot sensual overload of significant proportions, and I reached for my boner to stroke myself off. Carl batted my hand away, saying, "No, don't touch yourself unless Larry okays it. Your dick belongs to him now." Larry grins, "That's right, kid. I'll be texting you when I need a quick blowjob."

How absurd, but it's gay play, so I take my hand away and concentrate on how incredibly wonderful it feels getting fucked by Carl. Closing my eyes, I float in ecstasy, and then my throat gets filled with Larry's cock again, and I gag as Larry moans, "Ahh, ummm, I'm going to cum." He splashed a big, creamy cum shot in my throat, helping his boner slide up and back down my throat three times before pulling out, looking pale, mumbling, "Holy shit, that was intense!" His eyes close, and his head goes back as he breathes deeply. He then lifts his leg over me and gets off me, mumbling, "You were right, cousin; he's a good time."

Compliments! Ha, anyway, I'm experienced enough by now to avoid sucking cum into my sinuses, which is an enormous improvement in my

cock sucking technique. Tasting Larry's cum and feeling Carl's deep thrusting up my ass was perfection, but not for long. My climax button has been punched, and it builds and builds until I screech out, "Aaaaiii," and blow another arching string of cum, explosions going off in my balls, me shaking like a leaf, as the cum splashes down on my right knee. Carl makes a gasping sound and humps hard into my rectum, blowing cum into my bowels. All three of us were sweating and chests heaving, but what a great time!

Carl steps back, and my legs drop to the mattress as he pulls on his cock, saying, "This three-way shit is HOT!" He was breathing wheezing breaths, his hard cock pulling out of my hole. He's not done, though. He gruffly told me to turn over onto my belly. When I did that, he spread my legs out wide and went right back up inside me, then he was on my back, and I was engulfed in this huge fat body, his arms against my arms, each of his hands holding one of my wrists pulling them against my shoulders, the point of his chin at the crown or my head. I was feeling a little panicky and squirmed under him as hard as I could, but he thrusts his boner wildly, aroused mightily, humping my ass with quick, five-inch thrust for thirty seconds which got me under control, and I relaxed. Carl said, "Push your ass up," and I did. He murmured, "Good, keep it there," and fucked me hard.

He knows how to hit my pleasure spots, and soon I was embarrassing myself, moaning out, "Ahh Carl, Carl, ohhh, right there, oh, oh, oh, yeah, Carl." Larry was back out of the power room cleaning up, and he'd heard my embarrassing begging to Carl and muttered, "You the man, Carl. You got yourself a little fuck boy there any time you want." I couldn't disagree with him at that moment, but I was humiliated. Still, my asshole felt so good I had to force myself to stop that humiliating moaning and sucking up to Carl. Then I began feeling Carl's hard nuts against my buttocks and knew he was getting closer to blowing another load. His nuts felt like two oversized steel ball bearings bumping into my ass cheeks.

Using his knees, he spread my legs more. He had no problem doing that because I'm docile and very accommodating by now to my dominant top. I'm limp all over except for my penis, which was very hard for the third time this afternoon. Carl let go of one of my wrists and pushed my head to the side so he could get at the side of my neck to suck and lick one spot while continuing to fuck me. I've never been more aroused or docile, completely under Carl's control and loving every second of it. He was giving me a hickey, and I know why. It was so I'll know my ass belongs to him and not Larry, and I am agreeable to anything he wants now.

Cael had talked to me about the submissive/dominant sexual roles because of my encounters with the Marine, and now, ironically, I found myself in the most submissive frame of mind I've ever felt, and it wasn't to the Marine like I was afraid would happen. It was my mentor who taught me about those roles in the first place. He taught me, and now he's showing me, and it was surreal in the most positive way imaginable plus the sexual satisfaction was off the charts for me.

While doing the hickey, Carl slowed down his thrusting to a very slow, teasing speed, getting me whining again, "Carl, ah, ah, fuck me harder..." Moving my head never entered my mind; it was where Carl wanted it. My whining with arousal got Carl to take pity on me and give me a little of what I wanted by thrusting deeper and faster for a little bit. The hickey process was hypnotizing, and combined with a hard cock stimulating every sensitive spot in my rectum, I didn't want it to stop. Carl has stamina but was starting to grunt at the effort of hickey-making and humping me steadily, so he'd go very slow again. The pleasure sensations were all over me, and I was hoping he would keep this up until I had one more climax this afternoon.

Carl had reached his limit, though. He stopped the hickey building to do one last spurt of frenzied thrusting, and, short of breath, he let out a quiet squealing sound as he was climaxing into my bowels. I felt the gush of cum inside me, and it quickly was drooling down around his boner to run down my ass cheeks. Feeling his cum up inside my body and his vast presents on my back made me squeal like a girl and shoot a splash of cum on the mattress and my belly.

It felt so excellent I wanted to do it again, to feel myself climaxing again. Carl was damp with perspiration, but he didn't stink. His body had a neutral odor, nothing unpleasant about it. But now, after climaxing, there was simply too much of him as he humped me for about a minute, squishing in his cum. When he pulled out, a long string of cum followed his boner, and the string broke off his cock to splat on my left butt cheek, then drooled down it. Now I wanted his weight off me, and through lots of heavy breathing from Carl and me, Larry said, "Hot, hot, hot, Carl. That reminded me of that TV show, Nature. A lion mounts the female, and after a tussle, he gets her totally docile, just like you did to the kid, and that hickey was like the lion biting the back of the female's neck."

Carl appeared to enjoy the comparison and enthusiastically answered, "Yeah, that's cool, Larry. I know what you mean. And with Dylan here, it took me only a couple of fucks to get control of him, and now he follows me around, begging me to fuck him. Don't you, Dylan?" He'd rolled off my back and was lying beside me as I muttered, "Pretty much, yeah, Carl. I mean, you know, you're my mentor and dominant boyfriend, and..." He's not listening; he's telling Larry, "Every time he'd start to squirm, all I had to do was fuck him hard a couple of times, and he'd get limp and real docile for me, like that lion cunt thing you were talking about."

My thoughts consisted of basically two things: Why is Larry supposed to be in charge when most of the time he's idolizing Carl for fucking me so well, and why don't these guys ever bring me into the conversation. These two fleeting thoughts are not especially important ones. Carl's moving me around again. He's got his arm under my neck and his other hand behind my head, saying, "Put your head back further; I want to get at that hickey some more."

Weirdly, I didn't consider not doing it. I did what he said, and he went to town sucking on the hickey he'd started earlier. It quickly started to itch and

burn, and I whined, "Please, Carl, that's burning." He covered my mouth tightly with his hand and sucked on my hickey for another three minutes as I squirmed and groaned, trying to get free. Larry was washing up in the power room. Trying to squirm away from Carl was futile, and he smacked my ass, "Stop it!" Without consciously thinking to do it, I got docile again. Carl didn't bother even to comment about that to Larry, apparently not thinking it noteworthy that I immediately did what he said.

Checking his work a few times and then going back down on that raw bump on my neck, he finally pulled away, looked at his work, and laughed out loud, calling to his cousin, "Look at this thing, Larry!" When Larry came out of the bathroom, they both marveled at the size of the hickey. It was burning and sore, but I kept my head to the side so Larry could see it. He mumbled, "Holy shit, Carl! Don't try that shit on me." Carl countered, "If I wanted to do one on you, I probably would, Larry. I don't want to, though, so you've got nothing to worry about." Larry muttered, "Thank God..."

There was no love lost between those two. They were simply recreational sex buddies, but I think Carl and I are more than that. I want to please him, so I'm still in the position Carl put me in, and he casually licked across my hickey a few more times, mumbling to himself, "That's a beauty," and then he brushed the hair back from my forehead with the palm of his hand and said, "Open your lips a little."

Except for the stinging hickey, I was mesmerized and sexually happy with Carl, in a beautiful frame of mind with growing feelings for my mentor, and didn't hesitate to open my lips, knowing Carl wanted to make out the way Larry had earlier. Omigod, I didn't want to even think about making out with Carl when I first went to his house. The thought made me gag back then, but now I'm glad he wants to make out with me because I want to, too.

What followed was a very sloppy, wet, totally overwhelming make-out, as if we were lovers. That's what it felt like, us clinging to one another, our faces wet with saliva, and our cocks once again hard as two stones. We are NOT lovers, but like the hickey building, Carl's making out became spellbinding and mesmerizing for me. I melded into Carl's enthusiastic making out, eventually losing myself in who I was making out with. Larry's making out was purely sexual, and this one had a lot of that quality as well, and that's the part I concentrated on. Carl probably interpreted my participation as proof that I was so enamored with him that I'd do whatever he wanted. He might even go so far as to think I'm in love with or lust for him or something along those lines, and I don't know if he's right about that.

I am enthralled with the sex we have. And, as I've thought before, I'd like to see what Carl looks like after he loses those seventy-five pounds that he claims he will be losing this summer. He's good-looking now but too fat to be a sexy hunk. Losing the weight, though, he'd be a hot boyfriend!

After two minutes, he did the unimaginable. Using his strength, he put me in position on my back and spread my legs, and pushed his cock up inside me all the way again. I thought he was all done, but no! I was a little sore back there, but the good feeling of being filled up by Carl overrode the soreness, and it was a very fast, urgent fuck because Carl was super-hot and aroused from the make out. He fucked me hard and actually had another cum spurt of a climax while I was on my back, my legs wrapped around his waist. He continued thrusting, gasping, and a little out of control, but I never came near another climax. His last climax that drooled out of my asshole was watery cum that ran out of me as fast as it was shot inside me.

I'm seventeen going on eighteen and have had almost zero sex until recently, so I was like a kid in a candy shop here. To say it all felt good is a huge understatement. Carl and Larry have been fucking for years, and so it wasn't as big a deal to them, especially Larry. Carl got excited because he liked me and maybe more than that. Twenty minutes after they left my house, I was still lying around in a happy fog with Carl's cum dried on my buttocks and the back of my legs. The hickey is stinging under a giant Band-Aid, but I don't mind. My ass was sore, too, but I can't remember a day when I felt better. I like being the submissive bottom, who guys fuck, and deep throat.

Then, my cell phone rings, and Carl asks how I'm doing. Wow! My boyfriend is checking up to see that I'm okay. I told him, "I'm awesome, Carl. Um, can I see you later?" He chuckled and said he was busy later but invited me to his graduation party on Monday afternoon. Chubby will be working, and I can skip my running on Monday. Tom, the Marine, might not even be there. And if he was, it might be good to stand him up for once, like he stood me up yesterday. I said, "Thanks, Carl. I'd love to be there."

Before he got the window washing job, Chubby and I were always together... always! That meant I didn't make other close friends, but now I've met Robby Dickers, his brother, Dodger, Carl, and Larry. I'm feeling popular for the first time in my life. Before now, I had never thought about being popular. Now I do, and I know three guys who like fucking and deep-throating me, which is another way of being popular.

Before he abruptly ended the call, Carl told me what time to be at the party and not to cover his hickey, then he added, "And it is my hickey!" I grinned, mumbling, "And I'm your bottom boy, right?" He muttered, "Don't say embarrassing shit like that when anybody is around." Then, he clicked off the call. His hickey? What does that mean, anyway? Oh, wait. He said I wasn't to cover his hickey. How'd he know I'd already put a big Band-Aid over it? Fuck!

That's okay. Carl, Larry, and I will be the only ones who know whose hickey it is, and maybe some people will think I'm a stud and a girl did the hickey, as unlikely as that is to ever happen for real.

Feeling dreamy from that sexy afternoon, I lazily put the area rug, the fitted sheet, and the little guest towel into the washing machine and got that running. Then, I filled the tub in the bathroom and took a nice long bath. My ass was tender but getting better by the minute, much like the last time

Carl fucked me a couple of times. His big cock can put a hurting on a guy's rectum, but it's worth a little discomfort. That's the advice Carl gave me just before he fucked me for the first time. Damn good advice, too!

In the bathtub, with water up to my neck, ruining all my good thoughts about the day, I started feeling depressed. Goddammit, I got depressed after the last time I had sexual activity that might be considered over the top by most people. I guess I think it was over the top, too, not just with Carl and Larry, but also with the Marine.

It's so fantastic when I'm doing it, and I think Carl is awesome, but now, an hour later, I think it was wrong. What's up with that? I don't know who decides what is enough, or not enough, or too much recreational sex. Why does something that feels so good, that feels so right, all of a sudden feel wrong? Rational thinking doesn't give me an answer, and I know I will do it again, probably sooner rather than later.

There is always something to ponder in this life! I've been in the tub for quite a while, not figuring out any answers to my pondering, when I hear someone come in the front door. It's too early for Chubby, and Mom's working till midnight. I was quiet in the tub, hoping they would take whatever they wanted and stay out of the bathroom if it was a break-in. In about two minutes, the front door closed again. What the fuck? Why don't I ever lock the fucking door?

I get out of the tub, wrap a towel around me, and peek out the bathroom door. With wet feet, I pad over to look out the front window just in time to see that fucker Ricky's SUV pull around the corner. It's a creepy feeling thinking that prick was just in my house. Did he take something? Then, there it was, Chubby's unmistakable printing on a sheet of computer paper. He has the most perfect penmanship ever. I picked it up and read,

HI DYLAN.

LUV YOU, BRO! DON'T GET MAD, BUT MR. ORTIZ GAVE US WINDOW WASHER BOYS THE LAST TWO HOURS OFF TODAY SO RICKY COULD TAKE US ALL, AS MR. ORTIZ GUESTS TO THE FRANKLIN CARNIVAL. TONIGHT'S THE LAST NIGHT, AND I COULDN'T BE THE ONLY GUY WHO DIDN'T GO. WE'RE A TEAM. AND YES, I TRIED TO GET RICKY TO INCLUDE YOU, BUT HE'S HATING ON YOU BECAUSE, YOU KNOW, THAT TIME.

WE'LL BE GETTING BACK REAL LATE, SO RICKY INSISTED I SLEEP WITH HIM. I MEAN, YOU KNOW, AT HIS HOUSE TONIGHT. I PROMISE TO SPEND EVERY SECOND OF THE DAY WITH YOU TOMORROW. I PROMISE!

CHUB

Holding his note, I felt sick to my stomach. It was a hot, sexy afternoon; I started feeling depressed, and now this. I feel so alone. Why does Chubby have to do stuff with that piece of shit, Rickie.

Thinking about it logically, there are long odds against Ricky being gay. Supposedly, almost ninety percent of males in the world are heterosexual. That's probably a low figure, but still. And what proof, exactly, do I have that Ricky and Chubby are doing anything gay together? There's no proof; it's just an assumption from when I saw Chubby getting out of Ricky's SUV, wiping his lips, and adjusting his pants, and me assuming things from what Chubby says. That's my total reason for thinking that they're screwing around like two gay sex maniacs. Sticking with reality for a minute, it's not out of the realm of possibilities that Chubby's gay or bi or has some homosexual leanings. I've been with him almost daily, and certain things lead me to think Chubby will likely fall into one of those categories. That macho, asshole Ricky, doesn't seem gay from a percentage perspective, and it doesn't seem likely from the perspective of what I know about him, either.

So, why don't I ask Chubby straight out? Well, he's not here, so I can't ask him, but it makes me feel a little better knowing that percentage-wise and common sense-wise, the two of them are unlikely to be sexually involved, which is a swell thought, but tonight's Saturday night and I'm stuck here home alone. It seems like it was long ago that I was feeling super good from my first three-way gay-sex marathon. It was very intense, and surprisingly, looking back on it, I realize that maybe the best part was making out with both of them. Yeah, and I never thought I'd make out with a guy.

Carl's roommate, Larry, was hot. He was not hot looking, but he had a hot body, and he was a hot kisser, and he fucked me well, too. Yeah, but fat Carl is still the king where fucking is concerned, and even Larry agrees with that. Carl can get me squirming and squealing and feeling like I'm the hottest, sexiest guy in town. And he's made me change my mind about making out. Carl has brought me a long way in experimenting with gay sex, and I'm becoming seriously attached to Carl Denton. Wouldn't it be great if he lost that weight and took me as his boyfriend?

Chubby went to the carnival tonight with his new friends, so why don't I ask Carl out? It could be a gay date taking him to the carnival. He said he was busy tonight, but maybe he isn't. Wouldn't it shock Chubby to see me there with my new friend? Chubby already knows about my first new friend, Robby Dickers, so it'd be like I was suddenly popular. I'm calling Carl right now.

Carl's dad answered on the fifth ring, and I said, "Sorry to bother you again, Mr. Denton, but is Carl available?" He mumbled to someone, "It's that same boy calling for Carl again. What does this kid want to do, move in with us?" Then he yelled, "Carl, phone!"

Dammit! I need Carl's cell phone, not the landline! Making a face, I thought, "No wonder Carl acts like a dick sometimes. He gets it from his father. Carl doesn't say hello; he starts with, "Look, enough is enough. It hasn't been but three hours since I left you. What do you intend to do now, stalk me?" I'm like, "What the...?" My eyes are wide open and stinging. I'm holding the cell phone away from my ear because I can't believe that I'm hearing this kind of shit after the three of us had such a tremendous sexy afternoon together. And now he talks to me like this?

He was still blathering in a superior manner, saying, "I've already invited you to my graduation party; can't you even wait two days to see me again? I know you got the hots for me now, and Larry warned me you'd be following me around like my puppy dog. I'm damn disappointed in you." My face was red and hot and sweaty; this was way too much, so I yelled into my cell phone, "I only called to ask if you wanted to go to the Franklin carnival with me but fuck you! And fuck Larry too! I don't want to go with either of you now. And I'm not going to your stupid graduation party either!" Then, I slammed my cell phone shut, hoping I didn't break it.

It wasn't broken because ten seconds later it rang and the caller ID showed Dentons. My face is still red, my heart is beating fast, and I'm sweating. I'm mad, too! I shut off the phone, yelling into my empty house, "I'm not some dork he can treat like that! That fat fuck Carl can't dump on me like that." Throwing the phone onto my bed, I grabbed my Marlboro Lights and went out for a walk. I was steaming mad, muttering to myself, " When did I turn into someone who begs a fat fuck like Carl to be my friend. Never! That's when!"

My fingers were shaky while lighting my cigarette. I'm still fuming, muttering, "And fuck Chubby and his queer boyfriend, Rickie, too!" After walking a few blocks and taking deep inhales from my cigarette, I began to feel dizzy, and the rage slowly lifted from me. Then, I almost laughed at myself. Where did this wicked temper I've developed lately come from? I'm dangerous! Yeah, that's right, don't fucking mess with me because I'm a badass! Not really...

• Walking, I shook my head at myself because I knew this wasn't my

normal behavior, but since that fight with the Chavez brothers,

things have changed so much that I hardly know what or who I am

anymore. Feeling calmer now, I sat on a low brick wall in front of a

small strip mall and thought about what an ass I'd made of myself on

the phone. Why hadn't I just calmly explained myself and corrected

Carl's misunderstanding about my wanting him to fuck me again? I can

hardly believe that egomaniac, though. He actually thought I was

calling to get him to fuck me again only three hours after our sex

marathon! Come on! No, he's too intelligent to think that's why I

called. I'll bet he feels as bad about what he said to me as I do

about what I yelled at him. We mean something special to each other.

Carl's been a true mentor to me and really helpful, too. Oh, man! I

feel bad about the way I yelled at him.

• Well, that being said, there are still practical matters to consider.

For example, I was hungry, which made me think of pizza. I like

Bertucci's Brick Oven pizza, and Bertucci's was within walking

distance, so I headed that way. Of course, the thought of eating it

there alone never entered my mind. I'm much too self-conscious for

that. I'll get take-out.

• Later, when I got home with my small take-out cheese pizza, I began

thinking about this coming Monday and how I'd blown off that party at

Carl's. I wanted to go to the party and see Carl and Larry. How hot

was that make-out with Larry and Carl, especially Larry's make-out?

Carl fucks best, and Larry makes out best, but I've blown the chance

for another threesome by having that childish outburst on the phone.

Dammit!

• The first thing I did right after ripping off a slice of pizza was

check my cell phone. Two missed calls. The first one I already knew

about. Well, I knew who placed the call, but what would Carl say? He

probably wanted to scream, "Fuck you too!" I was nervous about

hearing this second missed call, but I punched up the missed call and

heard Carl's voice. He sounded calm, "Hi there, Dylan. I know you're

there because you just slammed the phone off in my ear. Heh-heh, it's

alright. I'm sorry I yelled at you. My old man was pissed because

we've been getting too many robocalls, and it seems it's always him

who answers, and mostly he's always pissed off about something

anyway. The calls aren't just from you, but Larry's main squeeze and

roommate, Willie, from prep school, has been calling for him here a

lot, too."

• I'm thinking, so Larry has a boyfriend. Never mind that, though. I

was beginning to feel good about the way Carl was sucking up to me in

this phone call. It's a good thing, too, because I'm not some dork.

Carl's message continued, "So, Dylan, buddy, I know you like me

fucking you, but come on, dude, it's only been a few hours. Let's

give it a little rest, okay? We'll both forget that the last phone

call ever happened, and you just came over on Monday as we planned. I

promise to take care of you because you're so cute, hot, and sexy.

Um, don't call back; just be here Monday. I'm glad you've got the

hots for me. I'll have you moaning out my name again, okay?" He hung

up the correct way after saying goodbye. Not like me, slamming the

phone shut mid-word

• That couldn't have worked out any better for me and made me ponder

whether I have the hots for him. When I second-guessed myself about

blowing off the party, it was Larry and his make-out that I thought

about just as much as I thought about Carl fucking me. Hell, I'm so

mixed up anymore; I don't know what I'm doing half the time. You

know, I think maybe I do have a crush on Carl. Even though I acted

childish, he was so mature with this mess, and I admire that.

• Thinking about Carl and the way he fucked me and the hot way he gave

me this hickey that's still stinging like mad. Still, I love it. I go

to the mirror over the sofa, pull off the big Band-Aid, and look at

my hickey. God, that's so sexy-looking! And Carl fucking me as he

sucked this hickey on my neck is so hot!! I'm grabbing my crotch,

thinking about all that. Yeah, I have a crush on Carl. I'm going to

officially ask him to be my boyfriend.

• Visualizing Carl's face, he's handsome but not what you'd call

cute. He fucks so good, too!. Jeez, can I think about something else

for once? I must be the world's biggest sex fiend. It's funny,

considering I didn't even know I was gay until two months ago. Then,

returning to listen to Carl's message again, I notice another missed

call. Robby Dickers asked if I wanted to go with him and Shaun Reilly

to the carnival. Is every kid in Framingham going to the carnival

tonight? Goddamn, this is great. I hurriedly called Robby back,

and his brother, Dodger, answered the phone. "Dodger, this is Dylan

Newman. Can I talk to Robby?" Dodger goes, "Sorry you missed him,

Dylan; he left fifteen minutes ago for the carnival with Shaun.

• I mutter, "Damn, I was out and... um, never mind. Tell him I called,"

Dodger says, "Sure, but how about coming over here for a swim with

me? I hate amusement rides. I get sick to my stomach twirling around

on them, so I didn't want to go. But you and I can have some real fun

here. Nobody's home but poor little lonely me.

• It was tempting, but I begged off because I'd have to walk, and it's

at least a twenty-minute walk. And even worse, coming back home

alone in the dark with the Chavez brothers hovering around is always

a concern. They said they weren't through with us for getting the

cops involved. "Sorry, Dodger, I'd love to, dude, but it doesn't make

much sense without a ride to and from." He nagged, saying the pool

was heated, so even though it was cool tonight, we could swim, water

wrestle, and even do some nut crunches. Have a blast. Come on!"

• He's gotta be kidding about the nut crunchers. He's too old to be

doing that. It's something we boys used to do on the school bus when

we were thirteen or so, grabbing each other's crotch and trying to

squeeze each other's nuts. Hurt like a bitch too! Sometimes you got

the guy's dick, and sometimes the dick was hard, and you'd yell,

"Homo, Charles is a homo. He's got a boner from nut crunching." The

bus driver would eventually pull over to the side of the road and

scream louder than we were screaming, "Shut the fuck up, you savages!

You're like wild animals! We're not moving till you all shut up and

get in your seats." Oh, those fond memories of early adolescence. Of

course, maybe Dodger wasn't just kidding and really wanted to water

wrestle and do nut crunchers in the pool. Yipes!

• Yeah, that would be fun with that little hottie, but Carl and Larry

pretty much fucked my horniness out of me this afternoon, and the

walk to and from Dodger's was simply too much. I finally convinced

Dodger I'd take a rain check, and he said, "Okay, but Robby will

probably be here next time, and it'd be more fun if it is just the

two of us."

• What? I can add that to my list of things I'm wondering about. Is

Dodger gay, and does he somehow know I am? Give me a break! Everyone

can't be gay, and everyone can't possibly know that I am. After

eating the rest of the pizza, I stopped thinking about all that and

spent the rest of the evening channel-surfing Comcast cable TV. Not

the most fun I ever had, but I landed a movie on cable called

"L.I.E." Long Island Expressway, and it was scary and sexy at the

same time about a pedophile and mixed-up teens. A couple of wicked

cute young teens, too. After the movie, I went to bed.

• The next morning, true to his word, Chubby was in my bedroom, waking

me up to start our Sunday breakfast routine. He looked cute, and

before going to sleep last night, I'd decided that Chubby wasn't

doing anything sexy with Ricky. If he were, he'd never have left that

thing about Ricky insisting he sleep with him in the note. Chubby

would have scratched it out or started a new note. That's where I'm

at with that at the moment--my yearning to lie naked in bed with

Chubby, smelling and feeling his fantastic body, is still on my mind.

Oh, let me add making out with Chubby to my fantasy. For the last

month or so, I have loved to stare at him and fantasize. When we were

younger, he used to stare at me, and now I stare at him.

• Chub and I ran the four-mile run after breakfast, went to a Sunday

movie matinee at the Multiplex, and ate dinner together at my place

with our Moms. After dessert, Tris' peach cobbler with Bryers French

vanilla ice cream, we watched a Sunday night baseball game featuring

who else but the Red Sox. I bumped against him, so Chubby asked,

"What is it, Dylan?" Instead of saying I love you, Chubby, I asked

him if he'd do my foot massage. He sucked on his lips a second

contemplating it before saying, "Yeah, well... er, of course.

• See that! He's lost some interest in his foot fetish, maybe growing

out of it. Too bad because it feels good. I stared at him as he took

off my sneakers and socks, then began his foot fetish ritual that

started as a foot massage and quickly slipped into foot licking and

toe sucking. I rubbed his short hair, which was growing out finally

after that, almost head shaving by Tricky Ricky. I don't have

Chubby's foot fetish, but now that I'm so profoundly into Chubby,

even his foot fetish thing is hot for me simply because it's Chubby

who's doing it. The look of concentration on his face is so

fantastic, and he always gives whatever he's doing a hundred percent

attention.

• He groped himself and sighed and moaned a little, but he had his fill

of my feet much quicker than before, and, as I said, I could tell he

was losing interest in it. Not totally yet, but I notice the lack of

enthusiasm.

• The following day, after breakfast, I went outside and only waited

two minutes for Chubby to come out. He looked bright-eyed and smiley,

and we hugged. Then, we started on a Monday morning school day.

After we'd walked six blocks, Chubby lit a Marlboro Light for us to

share. He took a drag, passed it to me, and said, "Bees make honey,

which is the only natural food made without destroying any other

life." He looked at me and lifted his eyebrows, like, "I'll bet you

didn't know that." Taking a drag and thinking fast, I had a

brainstorm, asking, "Well, what about milk

• I couldn't think what they destroyed. He made a face, mumbling, "A

cow has to eat grass to make milk, right? Grass is a living thing." I

say, "Okay, but it's impossible to lick your elbow." He shrugs, "Who

the fuck would want to?" I shake my head and grin because beating

Chubby in Trivia is tough. He took the last drag and flicked the butt

across the street. How does he get it to fly so far

• To tease Chubby and get a big reaction, I squeezed the back of his

neck and said, "Kiss me, Chubby." His face gets red as he says real

pissed-off like, "I fucking warned you against saying stuff like that

out in the open!" swinging his head around to see if someone

overheard what I said. Seeing me smirk, he knew I was breaking his

balls a little, so he calmed down and said, "Dylan, you can be such a

dick sometimes," and he reached over and squeezed my hand as he

sometimes does. We talked about last night's Red Sox game the rest of

the way to school. There was no mention of our special hug or that

kiss I gave him on the side of his head before he left to go to his

house last night

• My school day started with me daydreaming about Chubby in homeroom,

and then later, in Spanish class, I thought about Carl Denton and his

graduation party that afternoon. First, should I go, and if I go,

what might happen there, sex-wise? Many people will be at the

cook-out, adults lounging around inside the house, too. It will

probably be impossible for Carl, Larry, and me to sneak off to fuck.

I didn't know what to expect there, but I can't stop thinking about

last Saturday afternoon with Carl and his cousin. The memory made my

asshole twitch, and then my dick twitched.

• Chubby was off doing his window washing, so I walked home alone after

school, still trying to decide about Carl's party. It was a lovely

day for a cookout, so I'll go, and if it becomes awkward or

something, I'll leave. That was settled. Now what? Oh yeah, Carl had

said I should wear a tie and look presentable. Who wears a tie to a

cookout?

• At home, I said "Hi" to my Mom and Tris and told them about the

graduation party. They made a little fuss about a Junior like me

getting invited to a Senior's graduation party. La dee da!

• I took a quick shower, fixed my hair the way Carl combed it after

cutting it that time, and brushed my teeth because you never know

when a make-out might happen. Lastly, I contemplated a fresh Band-Aid

over the hickey Carl gave me, but he said not to cover it, so I

won't. It was so sexy when Carl was sucking this hickey on my neck,

but it is not too cool now, still...

• Mom had ironed me a pair of lightweight khaki slacks while I

showered. So, I wore khaki pants with a long-sleeve button-down blue

and white striped shirt and a tie with big flowers. Sandals, without

socks, of course. Mom said I looked nice, and then she handed me a

Hallmark congratulations card to give to Carl with twenty-five

dollars in it.

• I'd never thought of a gift, but as soon as Mom heard where I was

going, she dug up the card from someplace and wrote a check as a

graduation present. This party better be good for twenty-five

freaking dollars. Mom insisted on driving me so I wouldn't get sweaty

from that half-hour walk to Carl's. That was cool, but I insisted she

let me out a block down and a block over so no kid would see me

getting out of Mommy's car. As soon as I walked around the block, I

heard the music. It was a five-piece rock band from the High

School. I knew one of the kids in the band, Harvey Barnhart, who

played lead guitar, and he always called me 'old man.' He isn't from

England, so maybe he called me that because my last name is Newman.

Perhaps I'll ask him sometime.

• Last Saturday, Carl instructed me to go directly to the backyard, so

that's where I went. It was wicked crowded back there, but except for

the lead guitar player and Carl's fat sister, I didn't see anyone I

knew. Then Susan Kyle, from the school newspaper, came over and said,

"Hi, boss. Nice to see you here." She called me boss because Carl got

me next year's senior editor job, which is the job he'd had for the

last two years. Susan will be a senior reporter. We talked about the

newspaper briefly, and then someone called her away, and Carl

materialized from the crowd and waved me over. He appeared to be

holding court with three adults, none of whom I knew.

• Carl and I did a quick version of the buddy, one-arm hug, and back

pat when I arrived. He held onto my neck to whisper, "We good?" and I

whispered back, "Yeah. I'm sorry for being an ass." The band was loud

so that no one could hear our quick words to each other. The man and

the woman next to Carl turned out to be Larry's parents, Carl's aunt

and uncle, and they were even worse looking than Larry, and they

didn't even have hot bodies to compensate for their bad looks. Then,

I recognized the other lady in the group. She is Mrs. Ramsey, the

newspaper's faculty adviser. Carl introduced me to his aunt and

uncle, then said to Mrs. Ramsey, "You know Dylan," he then introduced

somebody else to somebody else as Mrs. Ramsey and I talked for a bit

about the newspaper, just like Susan and I had. Yawn.

• After that, Carl's younger sister attacked me and mussed my hair, the

fat bitch! Then Mrs. Denton came over, and Carl introduced me to her.

She told me she hoped Mr. Denton hadn't scared me too much on the

phone Saturday night, "He gets so grumpy at times, but his bark is

much worse than his bite, and you should feel free to call Carl any

time blah, blah, blah." By now, I'd been at the party for forty-five

minutes and was ready to admit defeat. This party sucked! It was

worse than simply boring; it was painful because it's a real mental

strain for me to make small talk with people I don't care anything

about.

• So, admitting defeat, I put the envelope with the gift check in a

pile of gifts on a card table and tried to make my way to the back

gate. Escaping without attracting attention was my goal. On my way, I

finally saw Larry, and he still wasn't cute, but he was talking to

someone who was: a young-looking slim boy about my height. I

hesitated to gawk at him and then continued on my escape route. I was

almost at the gate when Dean Byers materialized out of nowhere to pat

me on the back and say, "Yo, Newman, wassup?" I mutter, "Dude," and

we do a quick one-arm hug.

• Dean sits across from me in the band. Not the kind of band that's

playing here at the party, but the school band that plays halftime at

football games and so forth. He's a senior, but the Band has a

mixture of grades from each class, which is how we wound up together.

I play Trumpet, and the same goes for Dean. Band is something good

to put on your application to college, or I could happily do without

it. He led me to a grill where we had a hamburger and a can of iced

tea with lemon. Both were good, and I realized I was hungry. For

twenty-five dollars, I might as well eat my fill. Dean drifted away

as I returned to the grill for a hot dog and a root beer. Damn, the

food from a grill is delicious. I wish we had an outdoor grill at

home.

• I'm on the last bite of the hot dog, and I hear, "Hi, you're Dylan,

right." I look around, and it's the cute kid Larry was talking to

earlier. "Yeah, that's me. Sup?" He chuckles and says, "Clever

conversation starter." I mutter, "Huh?" He says, "I'm Willie

Worthington, Larry's roommate at Summersville Prep. You're Carl's

boy, right?" If this kid wasn't so interesting to look at, I might

have slugged him. I want to be Carl's boy, but I don't want anyone

calling me that. This guy is so interesting-looking, though, I

muttered, "Yeah, I'm Carl's boyfriend."

• Omigod, I almost got a stiffy saying that out loud to him, so I

repeated it. "Yeah, we're boyfriends. How about you; are you gay,

Willie?" He says, "You can't tell? Oh, thank you for that. Larry says

I'm so faggy I should wear high heels." What? Willie didn't seem gay.

I only asked because he asked me. I say, "He's wrong. You don't seem

any gayer than the straightest guy in town." As it turns out, Willie

was Larry's roommate AND his boyfriend. He said he was Larry's

bottom, which, according to my mentor Carl, means he lets Larry fuck

him, but he never fucks Larry, which makes me Carl's bottom. Ain't

that a great title? Fat Carl's bottom.

• Anyway, this Willie-bottom-boy has an innocent, pretty face; not a

perfect face like Chubby's, but nice-looking and attractive. The

first thing I noticed was his bright brown eyes that always stared

right into my eyes, but not aggressively. An innocent tentativeness

in his stare almost made me want to reassure him that everything was

fine. He has nice-looking, light brown, longish hair, but not as long

as Larry's. It was like a seventy's hairstyle, over the ears and

collar. Stupid-looking. I suppose you must have longish hair if you

go to a private prep school. Willie's hair was wavy, not straight

like Larry's; it was fuller and looked okay now that I had given it a

second look. I wanted to run my fingers through it. Haha!

• He has a longish nose, but it went okay with his slightly longish

face and slightly longish head. It's not odd looking at all; it's

just longish. It was all nice, went together well, and was

interesting. He has a very light complexion, a smiley mouth, and a

longish chin that also goes with everything else. He has some

freckles and is slim with long arms and legs. I like how he looks

• A horse walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender pours the

beer, sets it before the horse, and asks, "Why the long face today?"

• Willie smiled nicely at me and asked, "Dylan, would you like me to blow you?"

• To be continued... Please, guys, Nifty needs our help. Please consider a making a tax-deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty to help cover the expenses of maintaining and growing this wonderful free story site. Easy details for donating are at Nifty.org and thank you so much!