DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 7
by Donny Mumford
It's Wednesday, the fourth of September... the day Rob and I finally go back to Merrimack. We got out of bed at seven-fifteen and then rushed to do everything we needed to before leaving the house, including eating breakfast. At eight-thirty we're walking out the back door officially beginning out senior year of college.
Fully expecting this to be an annoyingly hectic morning I wanted to be alert and feeling my best. Instead I stupidly had 'shots' of bourbon at the Labor Day cookout yesterday and consequently, I woke up dealing with a slight hangover and therefore began the day grumpy and stressed about all the things we need to do in the next few hours.
Fortunately, most of my early grumpiness passes once we're in the pickup driving away from the house. Rob drives us out of the neighborhood and onto route 9, as he asks, "How's your headache, Dylan?" I'm like, "It's getting better, thanks. How you doing?" He goes, "I'm feeling okay. I really want to get off on the right foot this last year though." Nodding, I go, "Yeah I guess, but we've been getting educated since we were five years old and by now I'm mostly looking forward to being done with all of it." Rob goes, "Ahh, it's not so bad." When Rob thinks about schooling, he thinks first...'athletics'... and then much later his brain acknowledges everything else. He adds, "Ya know, we'll look back, particularly on these college years, as some of the best years of our lives. And anyway, now we can clearly see the light at the end of the tunnel."
Yeah that's true, but first things first, meaning this fucking rush hour traffic. It's normally an hour's drive from Framingham to North Andover, but in this traffic, it'll take longer. And then, after dealing with the traffic we need to drop off the duffle bag full of baseball gear at Merrimack and then go to our college apartment, assuming we can find the building it's in. And as an aside, I know that sounds stupid but we had a problem finding the building when we rented the place last week. We rented really late this year so our apartment is in the last building, way in the back of the complex. It's a huge complex and once you get in the middle of it there's like a rabbit-warren of roads leading all over the place, and all the buildings look identical so you can get lost in there very easily. And that's only one of my 'time-constraint' concerns.
Continuing with our itinerary, assuming we do find the apartment building we'll then need to unload everything from the pickup and, knowing Rob he'll want to put most of our stuff away, so that'll take more time. After that, we need to be at the dumbest thing ever, a senior orientation meeting that starts at eleven o'clock. And I've just mentioned a couple of time constraint concerns. This whole morning feels to me like it's gonna continue to be rush, rush, rush like it was back at the house when we were getting ready to leave.
And we don't know how long the orientation will last and then more time constraints getting a quick lunch somewhere and still getting to the baseball tryouts before it starts at one o'clock. Last year's baseball team co-captains are expected to assist the coaches with the tryouts, so Rob wants to get there early... naturally. And oh yeah, I'll be one of the goofs 'trying out' for the team. That right there, plus our tight schedule, are reasons enough for me to be apprehensive.
After the baseball tryouts, I'm guessing my apprehension will disappear like a bad dream. I can say that with some certainty because there isn't anything I'm not familiar and comfortable with about the normal, everyday Merrimack college experience. I just need to survive this morning and then I'm good. Yeah, then I'll be on cruise-control and relaxed, happier than Pavlov's dog when the bell rings, happier than Kim Kardashian at a Spandex sale, happier than a pig in shit, happier than a puppy with two dicks, happier... well, that's enough metaphors for how happy I'll be. Bottom line, I'm very much looking forward to later this afternoon.
Uh oh, Rob's muttering under his breath about the traffic again. Watching him getting tense fighting this traffic, and him checking the time every two minutes, I can't help but think of past years when I've made this trip to college with Chubby. I don't recall being especially apprehensive or tense about anything when driving back with him. Chubby has a calming influence on me, although to come to think of it he was hungover like a mother-fucker last year and slept all the way back, but still...
Anyway, Chub's already at the college. He drove our new car there two days before classes even begin. That's basically unheard of for him, but his roommate, John Beverly, hooked-up with a couple of girls online. Girls the guys knew from last year and supposedly they all wanted to be at the campus Labor Day cookout yesterday. I'm just guessing here, but I'm thinking the cookout wasn't the primary reason for the guys' early return to college. Whatever, I hope the real reason worked out perfectly for Chubby and I'd be way past astonished if 'time constraints' were even a remote issue for my brother.
Haha, no way! Chubby's usually late for everything. He's not the type though who arrives late carrying a steaming take-out cup of coffee acting breathless like he ran all the way. And he wouldn't bother pretending being late was cool or like, um, bohemian or something. No, Chub will arrive late with his awesome smile, hugging everyone saying something funny, and basically acting like his lateness never even happened. He'll make everyone feel as though they arrived early, rather than he got there late. Rob and I can't pull that shit off like Chub though, so we're pretty much slaves to the ticking clock.
Okay, we're making progress as Rob just drove us onto route 125, which will connect with route 114 after like ten miles, and then Merrimack is right there at the intersection. Unfortunately, the driving is obviously getting to Robby who mutters through clenched teeth, "If one more asshole cuts me off I'm crashing right into the back of the fucker's car!" Checking my seatbelt, I mumble, "We're in good shape, Rob. Relax!" I could mention to Robby that by skipping the orientation we'd have plenty of time to take care of everything we need to do without even breaking a sweat. Hee hee, but I'm not the kind of guy to rub-in the obvious ...
Seriously though, Rob has every right to be pissed-off at this traffic. On route 128, for example, we basically sat in traffic on route 128 like we were in a three-lane parking lot. Then when we did start moving it was ten feet and stop, ten feet and stop, ya know, stop and go traffic and it went on for twenty frustrating minutes. So that's stressful right there and made worse by drivers butting in front of us switching lanes because they thought our lane was moving faster, and then switching back when they found out it's wasn't. Yeah, more assholes!
As if that wasn't bad enough when we finally got to the reason for the backed-up traffic we see three cop cars with all those blinding blue lights flashing. They've parked their cruisers around a minor fender-bender with two cars in the breakdown lane so it's actually the three cop cars that had one lane blocked and therefore turned a three-minute delay into a twenty minute one. Surely three cop cars aren't necessary for a minor, no-injury car accident! So, ya know, stupid shit like that gets drivers pissed-off and they make bad choices out of frustration. And, oh man, on top of everything else it's uber annoying seeing six cops just standing around shooting the shit doing nothing. How about catching a crook... or doing something useful?
Finally, at twenty minutes to ten, we're at the intersection of routes 125 and 114. Rob drives the back roads to the baseball complex so we can drop off the baseball duffle bag. Backtracking off campus and then crossing route 114 Rob drives into the entrance of our apartment complex and then, abruptly he cuts to the left and stops the car, just staring straight ahead. Huh, Rob's upset about something else. So what the fuck is it now? Rolling my eyes, I wait a few seconds before asking, "What's wrong?" Looking at me, he asks, "Did you bring your key to the apartment?" Shrugging, I go, "Yeah, why?" and he lets out a long exhale, mumbling, "Good," and pulls back onto the road and then we basically flip a coin to decide which way we'll go at the first fork in the road. Rob obviously forgot his key and is therefore furious with himself, and there's nothing I could say that would help with that situation.
After choosing two wrong roads inside the complex Rob decides to drive to our last year's apartment building. We used that as a landmark when we rented the apartment a week ago. When we're driving past last year's building I'm right away thinking Rob should have turned right instead of continuing straight, but I don't mention that because he already looks as though he's in pain, or maybe he's about to blow his top.
Finally, as he's backing up to turn around for the third time, he mutters, "It's a damn good thing you have your key because I don't have mine, and this exercise in futility is taking us forever." Ignoring the 'futility' comment, I downplay the fact he forgot his key by saying the catch-all phrase, "No problem, Rob." That's also what people say instead of, 'You're welcome', and those two words 'no problem' are also used anytime you can't think of anything better to say... like I just did.
Holy shit though, if we both forgot our keys that would have been a major fucking problem! There's a master key I suppose in the rental office but getting someone to use it would undoubtedly be a time-consuming pain in the ass and put us way the fuck behind schedule and thereby increasing my apprehension exponentially.
I'm sort of expecting Rob to explain why he didn't bring his key as he drives to another dead end, and yells, "Goddammit, would you help me out here, Dylan!" I go, "Okay! Um, back up and turn around. Try the other road. You know, at that last fork." He's red-faced and stressed but he can't help snorting out a laugh, muttering, "No shit." I go, "Yeah, if this road isn't right, try the other one." He chuckles, "What would I do without you?" Actually, I sympathize with Rob and feel bad for him because I'd probably be just as stressed and pissed-off if I was the driver and didn't know where I was going.
We run into another dead end before finding the correct road and then it's like obvious, and why the hell didn't we think of going this way in the first place? It's like the guy who's looking for something and then when he finds it, he screams: why is it always in the last place I look. Well for one thing, why would you continue looking after you found it, numb-nuts?
Parking illegally, partially on the sidewalk at the front door of the building, we both get out and the first thing we need to do is take the tonneau cover off the bed of the pickup. As often happens, the faster you try to do something the longer it takes. Shortcuts seldom work. So it takes us almost ten minutes of struggling, plus eighteen F-bombs before the tonneau cover comes off. That tonneau is a tricky fucker! And it didn't even rain last night as the incompetent weatherman forecasted. In fact, it's sunny as hot as a regular summer morning. Well, it is still summer actually. It'll be summer until the fall equinox, which this year is around the twenty-first of the month. I don't have it exactly memorized and I'm pretty sure at this point Rob's not really interested in that anyway.
When the tonneau cover is totally off and folded by Rob and me, which takes some additional minutes and a couple of more F-bombs, it then takes us three trips back and forth to move everything from the truck to our apartment. We're dropping stuff on the way up the steps because we're trying to carry too much at once and consequently, we're both dropping additional F-bombs along with other expletives and I can only imagine what our neighbors are thinking about us by now? After all, we'll be neighbors for the next nine months and the rental agent told us that all of the renters in our building are 'regular' renters. That means I assume, they're not Merrimack students.
Finally, we're standing inside the apartment door with all the satchels, suitcases, duffle bags, and electronic equipment, TV's... everything we brought with us at our feet. We're both quietly looking around until Robby mutters, "Huh, this apartment looked larger when we rented it." Nodding, I go, "Yeah, it did. And we were going to buy slipcovers for that ugly sofa." He goes, "We were gonna do a lot of things. I wrote them all down and that list is, um, someplace, but the only thing I believe we actually did was get the mattress cover for our bed." I mumble, "Uh-uh, and actually it was your Mom who got that for us, remember?" He snorts out a laugh, and goes, "Yes, you're right."
Exchanging shrugs we take our luggage to the bedroom, and then Rob goes, "Fuck it, we don't have time to put this stuff away and forget about setting up all that other shit at the front door; the TV's and all that other stuff." I shrug again because he'll get no argument about that from me, and he adds, "Yeah, fuck it. Let's try to find our way out of this maze and get a coffee on campus."
As we're leaving the apartment, I ask, "What happened to your key?" He puts his hand on my shoulder, "Well, Dylan, me being super conscientious like you claim I am, I had a duplicate of my key made so I'd have one to carry in my wallet in the unlikely event I lost my original one." We get in the pickup, as I go, "Nice! So what happened, you left both of them home?" He goes, "Yep, on the bureau." I nod, mumbling, "Of course you did. Um, your idea of getting a coffee is a winner though."
As we're driving back to the route 114 entrance/exit Rob's calling out landmarks and repeating them out loud a few times so he'll remember how to find our building later today. That reminds me of that guy, whats-his-name at the Holiday Inn telling me ways to remember names. Saying the name a few times out loud was one of his suggestions. Huh, I remember the two of us screwing because that was pretty good, but I can't for the life of me remember his name. Was it Tommy? No! Um.... something like that though.
Robby and I brighten considerably when we're driving onto Merrimack's campus. We know our way around here very well and why the fuck wouldn't we after three years? The thing is though, as we drive through the campus now we're noticing there have been a lot of changes made over the summer. Good ones too! They've put up a couple of hundred light poles with cool light fixtures all over the campus and then the miles of sidewalks inside the campus have been repaved and look great too, plus new shrubbery and... the campus looks classy is what I'm saying. Last year they put that foot traffic light for crossing route 114 from the apartment complex, and then the cement sidewalks were laid around the exterior of the campus, plus a white fence on the outside of the sidewalk and other things I've forgotten but there have been lots of improvements is what I'm saying.
As Rob comes to a stop at a crosswalk, he goes, "Check that out, babe. They've finished that huge new academic building, and another one has just begun to go up." Damn, the campus looks really nice! I go, "Uh-uh, I hope we have some classes in the new building." I suppose a rich alumnus dumped a big donation on Merrimack because every year there are more improvements, and these new additions have noticeably upgraded the atmosphere, the ambiance of being on a college campus. Jeez, thinking back to our freshman year the campus was dumpy compared to now.
There aren't very many cars in the parking lot closest to the Quad, but then why would there be? I mean it's almost two days before there's any real reason to be here unless you're a freshman. We get a parking spot close to the front door and then walking up the steps to the Quad and going inside a flood of memories soar from my brain... three year's worth. All the loud familiar sounds and smells of the huge Quad make me feel good somehow.
And, Jesus, there are many more students here than I expected. As always there's music playing and a din of students shouting and laughing loudly and, well there's nothing new in here and that's somehow reassuring; same tables, snack bars, coffee bar, vending machines and so forth, but I do see a second pool table, a brand new one in the game room. Rob's obviously recalling all these familiar sights and sounds too and, like me, he's got a little smile on his face. It's almost like we're home. Fucking corny, huh?
We get coffees and sit at a table to wind-down after the last harried couple of hours. It's a feeling of relief knowing our clothes and all that other stuff is already in the apartment and we still have enough time for a coffee before the orientation. Yep, we're progressing through our lists of things to do and beginning to calm down noticeably. Rob looks pleased with himself, so that's good.
I take a sip of coffee as Robby does the same and then I grin to myself because I'm so happy my boyfriend doesn't slurp. It's a small thing to most people maybe but I hate hearing people slurp hot coffee or soup! If your coffee is too hot, dick-wad, wait a fucking minute or two until it cools a little! It'd be awful listening to Rob slurping coffee the rest of my life.
Rob's looking past my shoulder, muttering, "Don't look now, Dylan, but Travis Hunter just walked in with two of his ex-roommate, Harry Black, and Mike, um Mananski. I think that's his last name." Naturally, I look and sort of recognize all three of those guys. We knew them mostly from freshman year and then we sort of lost track of them and, well ya know how that goes. Jesus though, for a million dollars I couldn't have come up with all their names.
Rob urgently tells me, "I said... don't look! Jeez, they might come over here." I glance back at the three guys again and then, looking back at Rob, mumble, "Oh fuck yeah, there's that crazy Harry Black. I wonder if he's sobered up yet?" Robby goes, "Stop looking at them! You'll attract their attention and I'm not in the mood to listen to their goofy nonsense right now." Huh...taking another swallow of this pretty good coffee, I ask, "How'd you remember their names?" Robby frowns, asking, "Whaddaya mean? We've known them for three years. Hell, we talked with them for half an hour at that mixer just last semester." I go, "Really?" and he's like, "Yeah, the mixer at the frat house; the one in the woods off 114." I go, "Oh yeah," although I don't recall that at all.
I'm trying to picture what those guys looked like three years ago. Mostly we only hooked-up with them our freshman year at Tracy's Speak Easy and we were always slightly hammered. I don't know, but they all look much older now than they should. I mean how'd they age so much in three years? Well, Harry looks pretty much the same. He's probably pickled with all the hard liquor he drinks.
Rob's texting Danny so I glance around but I don't recognize anyone else. That's understandable since most everyone in here is a fresh-faced freshman. The freshman orientation was at nine o'clock this morning and almost everyone goes to that. It's obviously over now and these children don't know where else to go except here or the bookstore. Dumb ass babies. Haha, I'd like to show a couple of them around though. Nah, get serious, they're kids. Oh man though, look at that cute buzz-headed boy wearing his backpack and looking around like he's afraid someone's going to yell at him. Christ, he looks like a kid who may have gotten lost on his way to his high school bus stop. Was I ever that young?
Rob touches my arm, saying, "Danny just walked in." I turn around again and see Danny with his arm across the shoulders of a guy I recognize as one of the guys on last year's baseball team. He was the team's number one catcher. I've no idea what his name is though. Robby stands when Danny and the catcher approach the table. The catcher goes, "Rob, whassup?" and as they do a quick hug, Robby goes, "Jesus, you didn't get any better looking this summer, Hacket!" Danny give me a quick hug too, saying, "Can you believe this shit? Geno is gonna go to the stupid orientation too!" I pat his shoulder, asking, "Oh yeah. Who's Geno?" and Danny chuckles, so I go, "No, seriously, who's Geno?" He points to the catcher, saying, "Him... Merrimack's all-star catcher, that's who Geno is. Geno Hacket."
We all sit, as I mutter, "I knew that, Danny. I was just joking," but Danny introduces me to Geno anyway. Gene gives me an arrogant smirk and mutters, "Welcome to Merrimack. What high school did you go to, kid?" Danny says, "What the fuck ya talking about, Geno? Dylan's a senior like you, dummy!" Geno goes, "Oh, really?"
That's about all he has to say though because he doesn't give a shit about me any more than I do about him. Rob asks, "So, Geno, you helping with the try-outs this afternoon," and Geno goes, "Yeah, wouldn't miss it! Watching those dorky wannabes who think they can play college ball. I love it when they do a dump in their diapers trying to hit college pitching. Fuck 'em... welcome to reality, losers!" Rob and Danny sort of frown giving me a quick glance. Haha, I don't give a flying fuck what that dork thinks. He's gotta weigh two hundred and fifty fucking pounds, and he's an inch or two shorter than me. Geno also has one of those noses with big round, wide-open nostrils that look at you when he's facing you. It's like you're looking right up his nose. Ya know, pig nose. Jesus!
After finishing our coffees, Rob's like, "Nice seeing you, Hacket, but we're heading for the orientation now," and Geno goes, "Me too, numb-nuts, I gotta start planning what comes after college. It might as well be now." I'm thinking that's a strange 'take' on a goofy senior orientation. We all get up together and leave the Quad to walk over to the Reynolds Building that's directly across from the Quad. I'm still pondering what a senior orientation would have to do with that fat-ass's future?
As we walk Robby and Geno are chuckling about something and Danny, with his arm across my shoulders, says to me confidentially, "Don't pay any attention to what Geno said about the tryouts, babe. He's always been an insensitive mother-fucker." I mumble, "I think he's right though. In my case anyway." I get a shoulder squeeze from Danny, as he murmurs, "Hey, babe, I don't like hearing you put yourself down like that. You were almost the MVP of our summer team." I burst out laughing, before saying, "You're too kind, Danny." He goes, "Whaddaya mean...?"
Inside the big sloping lecture hall, we walk halfway down toward the front before taking seats on the end of an aisle. Surprisingly there are maybe eighty students in their seats already and it's ten minutes before the orientation even starts. I don't understand this at all. What am I missing here? And then I do understand once the professor begins his presentation. It becomes clear to me pretty quickly that this isn't a senior orientation; it's the introduction to a seminar about preparing for life after graduation, called, 'College to Career Transition'. I'm on the end next to Danny so I lean past him giving a smirky 'look' to Rob, who pretends he doesn't notice... haha. Senior orientation my ass! No college in the world would have a senior orientation... what would they orientate us about?
The professor outlines what he'll be discussing periodically during the semester, including: an alumni panel discussion regarding networking opportunities and how to make that work for recent graduates, researching graduate and professional programs while holding down a job, financial planning, entering the job market, relocation and independent living, paying back student loans, getting along at work, diversity in the workforce, building new social lives.... and, oh fuck, I tune-out completely now because, while all of that information might be helpful to many, very little of it applies to someone like Rob, who already knows he's going into business with his Dad. It doesn't apply to someone like me either since I expect to be hired by Dickers & Son, so I don't need to know about most of that other stuff either. It's for the students who don't have a clue what they're going to do after graduation and a large percentage of students fall into that category.
And that includes Geno apparently, as he's taking notes. Danny's not paying any more attention than me, although he probably should. No, he's more interested in ogling a smallish blond guy across the aisle. Huh, that guy looks a little on the goofy side if you ask me. To each their own though. Maybe Danny's attracted to the guy because he's about the same size as Hayden.
After the professor drones on for forty minutes, there's a ten-minute break and Rob gets up quickly, saying, "Um, I was misinformed what this orientation was all about! And furthermore, I for one have heard enough." As we go up the aisle to the door at the top of the lecture hall, I ask, "Who misinformed you, Rob?" He snorts out a laugh, and goes, "Never you mind. Let's get some lunch." I'm snickering as Rob tries changing the subject, adding, "I guess neither of us needs much to eat after that damn good breakfast Mom cooked for us this morning, but we probably should have something in our stomachs for the tryouts. Wouldn't you say, Dylan?" I go, "Not so fast, buster. Why did we just waste forty minutes of our lives?" Danny, who just caught up with us, goes, "Wow, that's some interesting shit the professor is putting out, don't ya think?" Rob goes, "No, it's boring," and Danny goes, "Yeah, it is kinda boring."
Outside some guys and girls light up cigarettes as Geno hooks up with another guy on the team. They're staying for the last half of the presentation, skipping lunch until after the tryouts. We bump a few fists and then Danny's driving us to the closest fast food restaurant, which is a Burger King. Danny's driving because he parked close to the lecture hall whereas Rob parked close to the Quad.
The Burger King is full of freshman. I can tell they're freshmen because a lot of them have baby faces and because savvy upperclassmen don't arrive on campus until tomorrow when classes begin, or at the very earliest later tonight. As I glance at the freshman boys I verify my one-in-ten rule still applies. I mean as far as cute guys go. Stretching it, there might be three cute guys out of the thirty or so in here. Like I said before though, they're too young... so I stop looking.
We don't eat much and while we're doing that both Danny and Rob bombard me with batting 'tips' preparing me for the baseball tryouts and thereby giving me indigestion. But honestly, by now I just want to get the tryouts behind me. But I also don't want to seem uninterested in the guy's pointers because, like I said before, it's sweet of them both to be so concerned that I'm on the team with them. Sweet, but misguided.
And then of course both Danny and Rob are in their element when we get to the baseball diamond. They're like young kids again exuberantly meeting and greeting teammates from last year. I drift off and let them go at it. To do something, I'm going through the baseball duffle bag we dropped off earlier. I'm looking for my glove and bat. I've found my baseball glove and the almost new red batting glove Danny gave me. I stick that in the back pocket of my jeans. The duffle bag mostly contains Rob's baseball equipment as he has a number of bats and three gloves plus a half dozen batting gloves and the baseball armor for elbows and ankles like you see professional baseball players wearing.
I'm sorting through Robby's bats for my own and as I take it out I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning to see who it is, there's a guy about my size wearing glasses, asking me, "Ya wanna warm-up having a catch with me?" He has his baseball glove on as he's flipping a ball in the air and then catching it. Reluctantly I go, 'Yeah, okay," and we separate twenty feet or so and begin throwing the ball back and forth as we're continuing to walk backward increasing the distance between us.
The guy calls out, "Are you a co-captain or a walk-on?" I say, "Walk on," and he goes, "Me too. I transferred here from Delaware State University. I was on the Delaware team as a utility infielder and I'm hoping to make Merrimack's team as, um, maybe a starter." He seems like a nice enough guy although he's not good-looking or sexy in any way, shape, or form. Not that I'm so shallow that a guy needs to be good looking or sexy in order for me to be friends with him. Not at all, I know lots of friends or acquaintances who aren't too good looking, or even remotely good looking... and forget about sexy.
The guy's third throw is a little too high, and he yells, "Sorry, my bad. I don't know how strong I am I guess..." I'm thinking, 'Ya four-eyed dip shit' as I jog back for the ball and throwing it back to him I try to be friendly, yelling, "Well I hope you make the team, although I don't hold out much hope for myself." Then one of the coaches blows a whistle and my 'catch' partner and I never even exchange first names.
We jogged over to a group of about forty guys where a man with a hard-looking pot belly, says, "I'm coach Davis," and then he thanks us for trying out. After that, he introduces three assistant coaches whose name I've already forgotten, and five co-captains including my sexy boyfriend, who touches the brim of his cap when introduced. C'mon, get real, Rob... Jesus! Coach Davis tells us that the co-captains will run us through a series of drills and then we'll do some catching, running, and hitting. He's looking for eight players to fill out this year's baseball roster and he wishes us all good luck.
The pitching hopefuls get separated from the group and then the rest of us get arbitrarily broken-up into three groups; outfielders, infielders, and a group going to the batting cage. First though, everyone needs to warm-up with calisthenics. And here comes an assistant coach who looks tough as nails to leads us.
Twenty minutes of that and I want to take a nap but I get sent with ten other guys to the outfield. Danny hits fly balls to us outfielders using a fungo bat. Bats in Division II baseball programs are aluminum bats, so that's good for me. I've never hit with a wooden bat in my life. I'm happy I had the summer league experience catching fly balls because Danny seems intent on hitting most of them my way and there's an assistant coach watching. Well, it's just that I don't want to get yelled at like happened at the beginning of the summer league tryouts. No problem though, everything goes pretty good and then my group rotates to the batting cage where reality like I knew it would, will soon sink in hard.
Waiting my turn in the batting cage I'm watching the pitcher throw batting practice and fuck... it's obvious I'm not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Meaning, this guy is not a summer league pitcher; he's much better, plus he isn't even one of the starting pitchers for the team. He's a bullpen guy they recruited to deal with us wannabes. Even so, he throws ten to fifteen miles an hour faster than most guys I batted against this summer. The increased velocity is the difference between a 'chance' for me and... 'no fucking way!'
Glancing over to the other side of the batting cage I see Rob watching intently. Huh, I wonder what he's thinking? Maybe he's thinking the same thing I am. Rolling my eyes I watch the first couple of batters never even put the ball in play. There's some fouls tips but mostly swings and misses. And that fat-ass, Geno, is catching and being an obnoxious prick mocking the try-out hitters' futility.
The fourth batter sees his first pitch and I hear "PING" as the ball is murdered out past the shortstop. The next pitch ends in a louder, "PING!" and the ball goes way the fuck over the fence in left field. The pitcher stalks around the mound kicking the dirt and muttering to himself and then glancing over to see his pitching coach writing something on his clipboard. Haha, not that I have a prayer myself, but I'm glad to see one of us try-out guys doing well. This batter must be one of those 'hidden jewels' Robby told me about. A good baseball player who just graduating high school but who the scouts missed in the recruiting process somehow. Good for him though, I'm glad he's hitting the hell out of this pitcher...
Before I even get to bat Robby comes over from the other side of the batting cage and quietly asks, "Do you want to get in there, Dylan?" I go, "Um, NO!" and he says, "I'm sorry, babe. I don't know what I was thinking." He shakes his head slowly, like he's pissed at himself or, I don't know exactly. He points at the pitcher, mumbling, "And Bobby's basically just a middle inning relief pitcher, or he was last year anyway. Fuck, I don't think...." I interrupt, saying, "No problem, Robby," and he pats my shoulder, mumbling, "If he was throwing curves and off-speed shit along with his average fastball most of these guys wouldn't touch it," and then the current batter scorches another pitch down the right-field line as Robby adds, "This dude batting now is the exception. Um, do you wanna forget this whole thing?" I nod, saying emphatically, "Yes, I do. I mean if you think that's best." And I don't add... I told you so!
Patting my shoulder again, he mutters, "My bad. It was wishful thinking on my part, plus that damn Danny egging me on..." Danny comes over sweating from batting balls to the outfielders, and cheerfully asks, "You ready, Dylan? This guy is throwing cupcakes up there." I look at Rob, who says, "Fuck you, Danny! Bobby's not throwing any cupcakes, he's improved a lot from last year. That's a wicked fastball and most of these guys can't touch it." Danny grins, muttering, "You're shitting me, right?" Rob gives Danny a 'look', mumbling, "No, I'm not shitting you! Watch him!"
Danny wasn't watching until now. A new batter steps in and doesn't even get the bat on the first two pitches as Rob mutters, "I'm not letting Dylan get embarrassed." How come he didn't realize this sooner? Danny mutters, "Huh! Who'd a thunk it? Bobby must have been on some, um, wicked-good performance enhancement shit over the summer." We all watch a big guy flailing away and missing every pitch he swings at." Looking at Rob and smiling, Danny's like, "Looks like we got ourselves a helluva pitcher, huh?" Bobby's picked up a little gitty-up on his fastball last summer, but Dylan could hit him. Couldn't you, Dylan?" I mutter, "Not hardly, no."
A fastball comes inside on the batter clipping his elbow and the howling from that big batter is embarrassing. Ya big baby! Coaches run over and the pitcher tries to control the urge to grin as he walks around the mound. I get a hug from Danny, as he says, "No dice, huh, babe? Ya don't wanna try batting?" I go, "Nope." His eyes light up as he goes, "Hey, how about if Rob and I get you in as one of the equipment managers?" Fuck that! Ryan was one of the equipment managers, which is another name for 'flunky'. I go, "No thanks, Danny. Um, no more favors, please...." Looking at Rob I recognize his expression. It's one he gets when he's mad at himself. He wants to spread a little of the blame around, saying to Danny, "Why in the name of God I let you talk me into putting Dylan through this I can't even fucking imagine!"
Danny's speechless, looking startled and as we drift away from the batting cage, he goes, "What the fuck you talking about, Rob? Dylan was almost MVP last summer!" and then, Danny whiningly asks Rob, "Why don't you want him to bat?" Robby goes, "Put the bong down, Danny! And Dylan was not 'almost the MVP', for chrissakes. You're not blind. You can see that none of these guys can even hit Bobby Florese, and he was a relief pitcher! They can't even hit him! Jesus!" Danny gets his arm around my waist squeezing me to unnecessarily console me I guess, as he's saying to Robby, "Dylan had two walk-off hits for us; hits that won fucking games last summer!"
Before Rob can respond to Danny's latest proclamation, one of the assistant coaches calls out, "Yo, Dickers, a little help here if you're done socializing." Rob waves at the guy, and says to me, "Can you hang around for another hour, Dylan? We'll be done by them." I nod, "Sure, um, maybe," and Rob pats my shoulder before jogging over to the coach.
Danny squeezes me again, saying, "Hey, forget all that negativity, Dylan. Let's go back over and so you at least can swing at a few pitches. You won't know for sure unless you try!" I mutter, "Thanks for the encouragement, Danny... really! I don't need to swing and miss at a bunch of pitches to know I can't hit that guy." He's adjusting my baseball cap, muttering, "Damn, Rob doesn't have the confidence in you that I have and he's poisoned your confidence." I'm shaking my head and doing half a grin at Danny's persuasiveness and I appreciate his concern but I mean I'm feeling good about getting out of batting." I go, "You're a really good friend, Danny, but I'm just not feeling it. Okay?" He nods, "Yeah, okay. I understand totally but if you'd just get in the fucking batting gage..." I snort out a laugh. He says he totally understands and then goes right back to nagging me to bat. He's like, what....?" as we continue walking away from the batting cage.
I'm feeling, well I'm just not sure what I'm feeling. There's a feeling of relief because I did not want to do this from the start, but maybe I'm also feeling that I let Rob and especially Danny down. No, Rob's not thinking I let him down and who knows what Danny thinks. It's more like I feel inferior maybe, and that I let Rob down. Danny says again, "Are you about this, babe? I know you could get in that batting cage and 'rake'. Hit some bombs outta here!" Danny's really something...
I can't help but admire his one-track mind. I chuckle a little and then, squinting my eyes, I go, "Let me ask you something, Danny. Have you ever seen two retards trying to fuck a watermelon in a phone booth?" He looks serious, asking, "Jesus, no. Whaddaya mean by a 'phone booth'?" Laughing now, I rub his head, knocking off his baseball cap, and say, "When are we gonna do our haircuts?" His eyes open wide as he goes, "Holy fuck, I almost forgot about that! Oh shit, and I need to check in with my roommate after these tryouts, so I can't do it today." That's good, so I mumble, "No problem," and he goes, "Don't fret, I won't abandon you. Um, tomorrow for sure, or at the latest, Saturday or Sunday."
Like I give a shit! No, I'm not dumping on him 'cause Danny's a really sweet guy! I just wanted to get his mind on something besides the batting cage. I ask, "Hey, bud, don't you need to be doing something with these try-out guys." He goes, "Oh, fuck yeah, I gotta hit some fungo flies to those numb-nuts in the outfield. Catch you later, babe," and he jogs off to relieve an assistant coach who was doing that. The coach appears to be giving Danny some shit about it too. Danny's got his hat off looking confused as he scratches his head. Heh heh, fucking Danny's awesome.
After putting my glove, bat, and batting glove in the duffle bags I go up to sit in the bleachers. Whew, I'm just now beginning to feel a deep sense of relief that this dog and pony act we've been going through about me being on the college baseball team is finally over. Casually glancing around I see there are quite a few other guys and girls sitting in groups of two or three in the bleachers along with me. I suppose they're watching either their friend who is trying out for the team, or they're watching one of the co-captains.
In a contemplative frame of mind, I'm sitting on a lower bleacher row not looking at anything special. From habit I rub my nose and smell the back of my hand and, haha, I have to agree with what I've been told by many... my skin smells nice. Oh God, can I believe I let that thought enter my brain? Realizing what I'm doing I stop and silently curse that oddly erotic kid I picked this habit up from. Naturally, I can't recall his name but I met him at Stop & Shop a few years back. Habits are hard to break; good ones and bad ones and inconsequential ones like this one.
Then one of the two guys sitting a couple of bleacher rows directly behind me hits my shoulder with something that bounces off and lands next to me. It's a whole peanut shell. What the fuck? Frowning, I look up and see a guy with a beard, who says, "Didn't make the cut, huh?" I frown at him but decide not to be rude, mumbling only, "Nah, I'm not nearly good enough." He goes, "Neither were we," and the two guys get up and walk down the bleachers to sit next to me. Fuck!
"I'm Sam Bernstein and this is Shaun Deavers. We were pitchers on our West Virginia high school team last year." I say my name and we all bump fists as the guy says, "Ironically the main reason my best bud, Shaun, and I applied to Merrimack was we thought we'd get a shot at making the baseball team. We thought we were awesome, didn't we, Shaun?" Shaun is shelling a peanut and not joining the one-way conversation. I go, "Sorry it didn't work out." What I'm thinking is: You gotta be shitting me! These guys are freshman?" They look way older than me.
Shaun finally speaks, asking me, "What did you in? Trying to hit that pitcher?" I go, "Yeah, sort of, um," and I stand, mumbling, "Hey, good luck with your freshman year, guys. I gotta meet somebody," and I bump their offered fists before wandering down off the bleachers and then completely out of the baseball park. Guess I'm not feeling sociable right now. Yeah, but what if either of those guys had been cute or 'hot', what then, Mr. Shallow? No, that's not it. I'm just out of sorts a little when, hell, I should be happier than that dog with two dicks that the tryout is behind me.
Walking away from the sound of guys yelling back and forth and the "PING!" of the bat hitting the ball I light a cigarette trying to talk myself into feeling better about everything. I mean, I dreaded this morning and now it's over. Everything should be looking up from here on out, right? Oh hell, I should have taken my turn in the batting cage and, um, officially sucked rather than this assumption I'd have sucked. That would have been better than Rob taking pity on me and letting me wiggle out of it.
Yeah, but would that actually have been better? The result would have been the same except I would have been embarrassed in front of that fat-ass catcher and the batting coach. So why would that have been better? It wouldn't have been! Rob did me a favor letting me avoid the batting cage so why am I over analyzing this? And why did I let Danny and Rob talk me into it in the first fucking place? That's my bad!
I text Rob that I've decided to walk around the campus and I'll see him when he's done with the tryouts. Walking up past the soccer field and then down toward the dormitories I'm thinking maybe I'll walk past Ryan's old dorm for old time sake. Whenever I had free time like this in the past Ryan was always there waiting for me. I mean during freshman and sophomore years anyway, and then part of last year too I suppose. I wonder what he's doing now? Whatever it is, he's not doing it in this state and that's all I know for sure about him. Hey, anyway where's Pony! That's who I wanna see. I stop and take my cell phone out to text him, but then I hear someone yelling.
Looking back, I see this really tall slim guy with white/blond hair. Jesus, I know him but of course, I can't remember his name. Oh yeah, I definitely remember having a couple of recreational sex episodes with him! And oh man, he's a super nice guy too but with a weird history. His boyfriend is like forty years old or something, and the old guy's rich I think... something like that. I wave as the guy jogs up the hill toward me saying something I can't make out. Wait, his name is Richard-something. I'm pretty sure, but I better not call him that until I am sure.
Here he comes with that same shy smile shining brightly like I remember. As he approaches he's repeating what he said a few seconds ago, "I said that I was hoping to see you, Dylan Newman," and we do the brief clasping hand/one-arm hug thing kinda awkwardly because he's like six-feet-four-inches tall. I mumble, "So, you followed through and enrolled at Merrimack, huh?" I remember he said he was going to take summer courses here and then maybe he'd do his college his freshman year at Merrimack as well, which he's obviously doing. He wants to get exposed to college life before going to MIT, or someplace smart. As I recall he graduated high school a couple of years ago with a stupidly good GPA. There's an oxymoron for ya... stupidly good GPA. Anyway, after the quick 'hello' hug he steps back, nodding and saying, "Yes, I picked up a couple of credits from two summer courses and now I'm taking four for the fall semester." He speaks very quietly.
For something to say that indicates I remember him well, I ask, "Are you still working for that bakery, ah, you were delivering rolls in that big box truck, right?" Actually, we had sex in the back of that truck and it smelled awesome; like bread baking. He smiles, "No, I took two-hour classes, four days a week this summer so I quit that job. How was your summer?" He has the same stupid hairdo he had when I met him at the Captain Pizza shop. First of all, it's impossible not to notice his white/blond hair but especially because of his weirdo haircut. It's an inch long all over his head except for the bangs that are long and hang down straight across his forehead almost touching his eyebrows; like girl's bangs. Shrugging, I go, "Yeah, I had a good summer vacation I guess. I worked of course but, yeah, it was good."
He asks, "Do you have time to grab a coffee or something?" I go, "Sure, how about at the Quad?" He goes, "Great," and we walk towards the Quad with me trying to convince myself his name is, Richard. Who else have I ever known named Richard? It has to be his name and then as if reading my mind, he goes, "I don't blame you for forgetting my name. It's Richard Raymond," and I grin, sputtering, "Oh no, I remembered your name! Whaddaya talking about, Richard? Jeez, seriously!" He goes, "Oh, thanks. People tell me I'm easy to forget." I go, "What, you? A guy with two first names? They must have been joking with you. Um, how's your, ah, friend?" He goes, "Wayne? He left for Texas a few weeks ago. He arranged for me a month to month apartment before he left. Do you think I should apply for a dorm room?" I mumble, "Gee, I don't know. It might be too late."
Apparently, my eyes unconsciously are drifting to his bizarro hairdo because he laughs quietly, and says, "Haha, yeah, it's the same," and he rubs his head, adding, "It's like footfalls echo in the memory down the passage of time, which we did not take towards that door we never opened into the rose garden." I'm like, "What?" and he says, "You were looking at my hair, right? Haha, I let Wayne give me a haircut before he left. What can I say, he crazily likes it like this," and he points to his head, adding, "Dumb, I know. Especially after you were so nice to give me that perfect buzzcut too." I chuckle, "Um, buzz cuts aren't usually referred to as a perfect, um, anything. What was all that stuff about the door to the rose garden?"
He blushes a little and he has this really pale complexion so his blush really shows, as he mutters, "T.S. Eliot's 'Four Quartets'. Ya know, it's like only by acceptance of the past can you alter it. I didn't accept that Wayne has a funky idea of what a haircut should look like so I always end up with this," pointing to his head again. I mutter, "T.S. Eliot, huh? I'm not too deep into poetry." Actually, I have no fucking idea what that meant, but like I said he did have an almost a perfect 4.0 GPA in high school so he'd know convoluted shit like that incomprehensible 'rose garden' poem I suppose.
Skipping quickly past that, I tell him I was at the baseball park watching my boyfriend assist with the walk-on guys trying outs for the team. I wanted to remind Richard that I have a boyfriend while at the same time I'm wondering if his invitation to have a coffee may be a prelude to a more intimate invitation. And... what do I think about that possibility? I mean, my very first day back on campus having some casual side sex? Hmmmm?
We're going up the steps to the Quad as I ask, "Did you meet anyone, um, special this summer?" He goes, "No one like you, no. I met some guys to talk with during breaks but no one I'd call a friend and no one even remotely approaching 'special' status." I'm nodding as he adds, "Oh, my Mother sent me a letter to my old address. It was forwarded because I filled out the form in the post office, ya know, changing addresses. So did Wayne."
Why would he mention that? Oh, shit, that's right, his parents kicked him out of the house because after many hours with a therapist Richard said he was still gay. Nice folks, huh? Strange that he'd assume I'd remember that. I ask, "Oh yeah, what'd she say in the letter?" and as we go inside to the noisy Quad, he says, "She wanted to know if I was still homosexual," and he laughs, adding, "I wrote back that I still am." I drop that conversation like a hot potato.
Richard isn't what anyone would call handsome, and I don't believe he was ever cute, not even as a teenager. He has a pleasant appearance though if slightly, um, homely. But he's so mild and self-effacing and just really one of the nicest guys I've ever met. Plus, Omigod, what a cock on this kid!
Mostly it's just that he doesn't have any self-confidence... none at all actually! Well, that is except when he 'tops' and then he's very much into it. Hard and fast fucking that only lasts like two minutes, at the most. He really goes at it, reminiscent of Tracy actually. Tracy, of course, doesn't have the equipment Richard has.
Another thing is, I'm sure Richard told me his forty-year-old so-called boyfriend isn't sexual with him. It's not that kind of relationship so maybe I shouldn't even refer to that guy as Richard's boyfriend. Yeah, except the old guy is overly affectionate according to Richard. He told me Wayne likes to hug and kiss him and give him baths and haircuts and pretty much treat him like his favorite pet. That's one way of looking at it. Or maybe he's treating him more like an adored five-year-old son, which is even creepier than the other option. If you ask me Wayne's probably a latent homosexual. And I'm totally shocked at how much of what Rickard's told me months ago I remember, but then his life is so weirdly unique how could I forget it? Oh and Richard pays men from a gay escort service he uses online for sex, but only rarely.
Inside the Quad Richard gets a coffee and I get a Coke. We sit down and he says, "If you're worried, Dylan, I promise I won't stalk you all semester, I'm just very happy to see you and anyway I'm a freshman and you're a senior so our paths probably won't cross much, if at all." I go, "No, I wasn't worried about that. And fuck, don't even think or say shit like that, Richard." He winces, probably because I said 'fuck' and 'shit'. I've never heard him curse.
The thing is, I don't know if I even want to do side-sex my first day on campus. On the other hand, that could be a harbinger of better things ahead for me in that regard. After this past summer of greatly reduced side sex, and I might as well include the six months before the summer too, perhaps I should jump at this chance. Wait a second though... what chance? Richard hasn't remotely mentioned anything about sex. And anyway, I'm still trying to get over that T.S. Eliot thing.
He says, "This is a very nice suburban college and I'm glad I decided to try collegiate life here first. You helped me decide that, Dylan." I go, "Really? How'd I do that?" He smiles, saying, "Well because you're attending college here for one thing. Just knowing a wonderful person like you is here gave me the courage to try college in the first place. I mean with Wayne's financial support of course. And being shy like I am, plus three years older than the other freshman, well I was reticent but I'm glad I did finally force myself to do it. So thank you." I say, "I'm not sure how I had anything to do with it, Richard, but I'm really glad it's working out so well for you." He says, "Do you wanna come over to my apartment after we finish our drinks and have sex?" My mouth hangs open as his face turns a dark red, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead.
I'm like, "Oh, I...," and he goes, "Did I say that out loud? No, I didn't say that out loud! I was just thinking that in my head." And I know he's serious about that! He goes, "Oh no! You heard that, didn't you. I can tell from the look on your face and now I'm beyond mortified, Dylan, and after I said I wouldn't stalk you." I mutter, "No, no problem, Richard, it's um..." and he says, "Oh man, Wayne tells me I say things out loud; things I assume I'm just thinking in my head. It's really humiliating at times! I'm so sorry!"
Holy fuck, haha, that really did catch me off guard and especially because I was just thinking about sex. Jesus, maybe he's clairvoyant! I say again, "No, it's no problem at all, Richard. We've had some," and I lower my voice, adding, "Some sexy fun together. No need to be embarrassed... and forget about being mortified, there's no need for that at all." And then, trying for a little humor, I go, "Hell, you're talking to a casual sex buddy, buddy."
Richard's not listening. He's pulled a bunch of paper napkins from the dispenser on the table and wiping his sweaty face, muttering, "I can't believe this happened." Feeling bad for him I try changing the subject, "So, what courses are you taking this semester?" He balls-up the napkins that are dripping with his perspiration, mumbling, "You're so nice, Dylan. Um, what was your question?" I repeat the question and he rattles off some strange sounding courses he'll be taking this semester, and I go, "Huh, I don't recall taking any of those courses myself." He says, "God, it's so hot in here! Um, oh... those courses are all electives, Dylan, I wouldn't think you'd be interested in them. I'll do most of my required courses at MIT, probably. I'm majoring in mathematics, I think that's what I'll major in." I go, "Uh huh."
He calms down and we don't mention sex again. Instead, we talk about his summer and what he did in between classes during his free time. Mostly he was studying or reading books for entertainment although I've never heard of the books he said he'd read. He asks me about myself, even remembering Rob's full name. He remembers me telling him Rob's been my boyfriend for years.
Richard's another sad case, and it seems I run into more than my share of them, but the guys with sad pasts are usually so nice. And I mean even though they've had to deal with harder things than I can even imagine. I admire them, and of course, Richard makes me think of Connor first, but there are others I've met like those two. Richard's is a different situation than say, Connor's, but both guys' problems still center basically around their parents or lack thereof. Some people shouldn't have children, but then bad parents don't always mean their kids are fucked-up. Lots of times it does turn out that way... but not always.
Finally I get a text from Rob asking me to meet him at the pickup. Richard and I, at my insistence, exchange cell phone numbers and I promise to text him and get together, um, some time. He's twenty-one now so we can have a beer together and maybe, you know whatever. We do a routine hug and then split up outside the Quad. Jeez, I feel bad for him. He seems so lonely.
As I wait for Rob I'm leaning against the pickup and smoking a cigarette vacillating between having side sex with Richard sometime or if that would somehow be taking advantage of him. Then I tell myself... he's a lot smarter than me so how would I be taking advantage of him? Plus he's the one who blurted out about screwing. I can't help feeling sorry for him though and feel I should help him somehow but then sex might just confuse my good intentions, so I don't fucking know what to do.
Robby comes up all sweaty and sexy looking. He excitedly tells me about the walk-on guys who are still potential teammates. The Coach eliminated all but a dozen of the tryout guys and eight of the dozen will make the team. Final tryouts are tomorrow. Without mentioning my failed tryout, Rob goes on to laugh about this or that thing that happened after I left and it's obvious he enjoyed himself immensely. Duh, no shit! Haha, I'm happy for him.
After commiserating a little with Rob about his fun experiences at the tryouts, I'm quiet for a minute so and Rob goes, "Jesus, it's hot, huh? The thermometer on the side of the clubhouse read eighty-five degrees. Hot day in September!" Yeah, discussing the weather is just about the world's number one conversation starter. I go, "Four days ago it was August so it's not surprising it's still summer weather, Rob." He mutters, "Yeah, that's true," and takes the cigarette butt from my fingers for a drag, and then mumbles, "And that damn air conditioner in the pickup is still fucked." Flicking the cigarette butt over the pickup, he unlocks the doors and we get in. The truck was sitting in the sun so it probably is a hundred degrees inside.
We open the windows as Rob asks, "Everything okay, Dylan? You're quieter than usual. Um, I'm really sorry I dragged you into that tryout mess." I go, "No, I'm good!" He mutters, "I'm glad you're good," and he squeezes my shoulder and smiles at me. He has the engine going and then the air conditioning. We've both got our hands near the vent but no cool air is coming out. Shrugging at each other, I ask, "Well, where are we going now?" Rob says, "I was thinking we'd go back to the apartment for a shower. Whaddaya think?" I go, "Good idea," and while driving back to the apartment Rob tells me more about the tryouts. Like I said, it makes me happy seeing him so happy.
We're both sweating bullets during the short ride though, and then once inside the apartment complex, Rob gets a congratulatory pat on the back from me because his method of calling out the landmarks and street names earlier this morning works. He only takes one wrong turn on our way back. As we're going inside the building I'm like, "Genius, Rob, pure genius finding our apartment." He chuckles, muttering, "Well we're not retards, oops... I mean we're not especially mentally challenged so finding our apartment shouldn't warrant a merit badge." I'm like, "Still, I'm impressed..." He grins at me as we're going upstairs.
When we go inside the front door of our apartment we stumble over some of the stuff we left there and we both get a chuckle out of that. The apartment is as hot as it is outside so we mess around with the thermostat a bit until we get the air conditioner to cycle on. I mutter, "It'll take a couple of hours to cool this dump down." Robby chuckles and then pulls me into a hug rubbing his sweaty face against mine, murmuring, "Have you forgiven me for that fiasco at the ballpark, Dylan? Totally my fault and I apologize for that. I just wanted so badly for you to be with me on the team, so we'd be together. Selfish of me to not see it from your perspective." I go, "Um, okay, I forgive you for that, but how about this morning when you told me to shut the fuck up?" He laughs, "Hey! I didn't say that; I simply said shut up." I go, "Well?" and he rubs his nose against mine, muttering, "My sincerest apologies for that too."
I return his hug enjoying the feel of his sweaty t-shirt under my fingers as my arms hug his back. After a quick kiss, I say, "You're sweaty," and he smirks as his mouth covers mine completely this time for an open mouth kiss that we both get fully engaged in. Our sweaty faces are tightly together as Rob's tongue sexily slides on mine giving me chills of arousal. My dick starts getting hard as we increase the intensity of our make out moving our hands over each other, squeezing and rubbing as our hips lightly hump together until both of us gasps and rest our chins on one another's shoulder.
We breathe deeply as my fingers go in Rob's wet hair on the back of his head. His hair is about an inch-and-a-half long near the crown of his head and I like the wet silky feel of it. I also like how it feels those times I've cut it bristly short. It feels boyish when it's buzz-cut short. Maybe next time I'll cut it shorter for him. He doesn't really care one way or the other.
Robby goes, "Let's get these sweaty shirts off." We pull our shirts over our heads and, with our breathing back to normal, get into another hot and heavy make-out for maybe two minutes with our naked hot torsos sliding together until Rob bites my bottom lip and then grunts out, "Do you know where the lube is?" I try not to be obvious about gasping in a deeply aroused hoarse voice, "I think so," and we step apart as I go into one of the duffle bags.
I'm reaching under and around a few pairs of folded jeans and khakis until I get frustrated and turn the duffle bag upside down to dump stuff out looking for my toiletry kit. It falls out on top of all my jeans and khakis. Rob somehow controls himself and doesn't comment on the pile of my clothes laying on the floor. Unzipping the toiletry kit, I rustle through combs, toothpaste, deodorant and whatnot until I get my fingers around a tube of KY Jelly and pull it out. There's very little left in the tube that I pass back to Robby and then turn to stare at his tight body with his light-complexioned almost pink skin. His chest and stomach and shoulders, all glistening with sweat. He's a hot and sexy boy!
Gulping at how sexy he looks I drop my jeans around my feet. Rob already has his pants down as we both shuffle away from our clothes and duffle bag, the clothes lying in a heap on the floor. We're dragging our pants around our feet as we go. Near the bed Rob strokes lube on his cock, his slippery hand making a slippery wet, almost sucking sound as his fist goes back and forth on his fat cock sliding the foreskin to and fro. I stare at that now while playing with my mostly firm cock, unaware I'm doing it.
Robby's cock, already firmed up some from our making-out, quickly becomes very hard and looks slippery-shiny with the lube as he points with his chin for me to turn around. I do that and his hands are on my hips with his hard cock poking my asshole. "Grab that desk, babe," and when I do, "Aaaaah," his cock forces it's way inside me. Rob's right hand is slippery with the jelly as he grips my hip tightly and humps his entire boner up my ass in three hard humps. I need to bend over further while at the same time sticking my ass up. This position helps the pain lessen a little. It also gives me a quick submissive sense. I mean that I needed to get lower and push my ass out for my man, my 'top'.
Oh boy, Rob sure is extra hot and aroused this afternoon! I do a quiet, "Oooouu," because even with the pain of that quick entry, it feels good being submissive to Robby. And especially without needing to make most of it up in my head like I normally need to. Lately he's been much more assertive during our sex and afterward he makes fewer apologies for being that way. It's a fantastic development if you ask me, and Robby even mentioned he's consciously being more dominant. He told me that yesterday, or maybe it was the day before.
Tight against my ass Rob's humping against my buttocks roughly while trusting his hips upward with his boner stretching my anus, as he moans, "Ummm, oooh, man..." and then he humps up harder. The pain around my anus is like buzzing little sparkling stabs of pain creating specks of light dancing in front of my eyes. Not for long though as my prostate awakens with pleasure vibrations that soon have me moaning, "Oooooh, ooooh, mmmmm!" And then Rob begins almost desperate hard and fast thrusting, "SLAPSLAPSLAP," sounds join our quiet moans of sexual heat and pleasure.
This is an awesome recreational sex act. And I love that we just felt like doing it... and so we do it. There's nothing to stop us. Yeah, we felt like it, and then maybe Rob needed it a little bit too. I'm beginning to think the more we do it, the more we think we 'need' it... like an addiction; like the world's most perfect addiction.
Rob's hands cup my shoulders now, his elbows pressing against my back as those awesome hips of his continue doing a smooth fast dance of thrusting almost like they're on autopilot and I'm thinking for the thousandth time that there's nothing in the world that can feel as good as sex between lovers.
Very tight fast thrusts up my ass, very tight thrusts of Rob's fat boner and thank God for the lubricant as the distinct sounds, "SLAPSLAPSLAP," until I can't resist grabbing my boner and stroking it along with Robby's fast thrusting because the feeling of climax is all over me already and this time I wanna feel it explode. I can't wait for this latest Rob induced climactic explosion! It happens like this sometimes when I absolutely need to cum even though usually, I'm trying to hold off my climax like, um, forever because a hard cock fucking my ass feels better than anything... except climax of course.
The slapping of Rob's crotch against my ass has a wet smacking sound to it by now as sweat has formed between our connecting body parts. I'm also feeling droplets of sweat hitting my naked back continuously as they drip off Rob's face while he hammers his boner inside me. This is another quick fuck and like most fast hard ones I know I'm gonna blow any second now. Then, with a squeal, I do just that, cum flying in a hot streak of an arc. Creamy cum from my boner flies up and then lands silently on the clothes I dumped on the floor, and then three quick short spurts follow feeling so incredibly good as they're coming out I almost scream at the otherworldly fantastic sensations of my latest orgasm.
I'm gasping for air and pulling on my cock getting only drools of cum and then Rob's against me again humping against my buttock so hard he pushes me up against the front of the desk. I feel his streak of cum shooting inside my rectum and there's that second of perceived extra warmth, whether I actually feel it or it's just in my mind, and then Rob's probably shooting more of his sperm up my ass although I don't feel it.
Making his normal noisy breathing sounds, Robby thrust his cock for another few seconds and then he steps back pulling his cock out and of course leaving my asshole gaping open, wet with his cum. "SMACK!" goes his hand on my ass as Robby groans, "That was too awesome for words," and then, "Oh fuck, I'm dizzy, baby... that was so goooooood." I'm still feeling some fleeting sensations of pleasure and then, my body relaxes and I straighten up off the desk sexually satisfied again compliments of my main man, Rob Dickers. Oh man, I feel fabulous after a good hard fucking from Robby! Grinning and shaking my head slowly, I'm murmuring, "Oh man, Robby, I don't even know how we started that. It just happened and you're awesome!"
His cum is slowly running down the inside of my left leg as Robby take short steps toward me, his steps being restricted by the jeans around his feet. Leaning against one another we hug our sweaty bodies tightly and do a sweet kiss. I say, "Like I said the other day, Rob, you're off to a good start with that plan of yours." He pulls his head back and grins, saying, "I swear to God, I didn't know I was going to do this when we walked in here, baby! Guess I can't resist how fantastically special my boyfriend is," and he gives me a sloppy kiss on the lips. Damn, this is good!
Stepping apart, I hold my arms out a little, mumbling, 'Look at us, we're both a sweaty mess." He shrugs, "Yeah well, let's take the first shower in our new apartment." Taking our snickers off we both pull off our jeans and underpants at the same time, then our socks. Everything gets dropped on the floor as I ask with a grin, "What's happening to you, Robert? Look at this mess in here; clothes all over the place." He goes, "You're what's happening to me," and he takes my hand and pulls me with him, both of us naked, into the bathroom.
We stand just inside the bathroom door with Rob still holding my hand which, whether he realizes it or not, is a sure sign he feels he's our leader, he's our top, he's our boss. If I took his hand and led him to the bathroom then it'd be me, although that isn't happening because I don't want it to. Not with Rob, but with someone like my special buddy, Pony, then I need to be the 'top', in charge, and all that other stuff I'd rather avoid whenever possible.
Anyway, with Rob still holding my hand, we stand inside the bathroom door looking around for a second before Rob goes, "No shower curtain, no washcloth, no bath gel, no towels... no nothing." I go, "No shit, we just got here." Chuckling, Rob goes, "A bath then! We'll grab a towel, a bottle of bath gel, and take a bath together..."
to be continued...
Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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