DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 8
by Donny Mumford
Nothing's been unpacked yet so I don't know why Robby and I thought we could take a shower. We're both naked as we gawk into our bathroom seeing the normal bathroom fixtures but, of course, there's no shower curtain, towels, or anything else in there. We glance at one another for a second as if this is a surprising development and then snort out a laugh as Rob mutters, "Okay, so we won't take a shower."
Having just finished a very hot sexual interlude we're in super good moods. I mutter, "No shower, no problem!" Rob goes, "We'll take a bath." Nodding my head, "Yep, I'll get some towels and bath gel." Glancing back at all the bags we unloaded from the truck this morning, Rob goes, "There's a new shower curtain somewhere in one of those bags but I don't know which one, so let's forget about it for now. I'll start the water running in the tub." I mutter, "Jeez, I can't remember the last time we took a bath together." Rob pats my shoulder and gives me an encouraging smile, saying, "This is gonna be the best year we've ever had, Dylan." Grinning in agreement, I head for the pile of bags to begin my search.
I need to go through one large trash bag after another digging in among each one's contents. We weren't organized about filling these bags so they're not in any kind of logical order. I open bags containing pillows and sheets and blankets that also have silverware and coffee mugs in it. One bag that contains our winter coats also has bathing suits in it, although I don't recall our reason for bringing bathing suits. These are large green trash bags and they hold a lot. Another bag contains a new comforter for the bed and nothing else and a few others bags are full of miscellaneous things that take a while to sort through. Finally, I find the one with towels and washcloths...and a brand new shower curtain. As I'm pulling these items from the trash bag, out drops the freezer Ziploc bag we used to store the bath gels, shampoo, hair conditioner, and a few other things for the bathroom. It just falls at my feet. Well, okay then!
I need to yell down the hall to be heard over the noise of the water that's running in the tub, "Yo, Rob," and I hold up the shower curtain. He looks at it shaking his head, calling back, "Nah, that thing will be a pain in the ass to put up. We'll do that later, okay? Let's stick with taking a bath." Fine with me; a bath sounds interesting.
Carrying towels, washcloths, and the Ziploc bag into the bathroom I drop everything on the counter next to the sink. Rob's on his knees leaning over the tub with his hand under the flow of water looking relieved, as he mumbles, "Whew! The water's finally getting hot." Then, as he puts the stopper in the tub, he adds, "For a minute there I was worried the hot water heater hadn't been turned on."
That's all we'd need! The air conditioner wasn't on when we dropped everything off this morning and in our haste, we never did turn it on. Today has been an unseasonably hot day for September and consequently, the apartment is just as hot inside as the weather is outside. We did turn the air conditioning on a little while ago but it's still at least eighty degrees in here. The hot sweaty sex we just had didn't do a thing to help cool things off either.
As I'm putting a washcloth and towels on a conveniently-located shelf next to the bathtub Rob's snooping around opening the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet that's over the bathroom sink. He goes, "Holy shit! Yo babe, there are all kinds of female-type items in here including this," and he holds up a plastic bottle, saying, "It's bubble bath. Um, L'Occitan Harvest Foaming Bath. Some kind of French shit I guess." I go, "Girls must have rented this place before us." Robby goes, "Yeah, I guess. Hey, this bubble bath claims it will transport the mind away from the lingering deadlines of everyday concerns. Sounds like just what a stressed-out college student needs, huh?" Frowning, I mutter, "Yeah, perfect for those more irresponsible students; certainly not us though."
Rob takes out other items from the cabinet including a pink razor and tweezers and then chuckles showing me a container of birth control pills. He mutters, "Loose girls," and then loses interest in the rest of the stuff that's in there, saying, "We'll throw all this junk out, but let's use the bubble bath." I go, "Cool," and step into the tub. The water reaches halfway to my knees as I go, "Jesus! It's hot!" and Rob mutters, "Pussy," as he squeezes a lot of bubble bath into the water under the flow from the spigot, muttering, "I might as well use it all." Immediately ten thousand bubbles form as I frown sitting down in the scalding water, yelling, "Damn, you got the water too hot, Rob!"
Ignoring that, he stands up chuckling and saying, "Oh shit, I think that's gonna be too much bubble bath." Yeah, well there is a disturbingly large pile of bubbles rising up at the opposite end of the tub from where I'm sitting. Rob walks down to my end of the tub and pushes at my shoulder, saying, "Let me get in behind you, babe. You can lean back against me." I slide forward toward the spigot end and Rob steps in behind me, going, "Oooh, hot! Motherfucker!" I mutter, "You'll get used to it, ya big pussy." He chuckles as he's slowly sitting down behind me, muttering, "Ouch, ouch... fuck, it is too fucking hot; you were right. Turn off the hot water, babe..."
I lean forward and turn off both spigots because a lot of water spilled over the sides of the tub when Robby sat down. He pulls me back against him and this creates a little wave of water that also splashes over the side of the tub onto the floor as we both snicker like ten-year-olds. I'm already used to the water temperature as I slide my ass forward a little and then lie back against Rob's chest, murmuring, "Ahhh, this is nice," and Rob puts his arms around me.
Sweat's dripping off my face making me laugh and then mutter, "Smart of you to get the water this hot when the temperature in here is off the effing charts." Rob hugs me against his body, saying, "It'll cool off soon enough," and then he snuggles his face against the side of my neck, his sweaty forehead slipping on my skin a little as he murmurs, "I love you so much, Dylan."
The bubbles have advanced from under the spigot down to our end of the tub and there are a lot of them! They smell nice but not a totally girlie scent. Some sort of French unisex scent. Yeah, I know that makes no sense, but...
Because Robby's snuggling with me, and he mentioned the 'love' word, I'm like, "Oh, so this is gonna be one of those lovey/dovey lover's baths, huh?" Robby sounds exasperated, muttering, "Don't goof around. Be serious, Dylan, okay? I wanna show you how much I love you. Seriously." I murmur, "That's so sweet, Robby. I love you too." He goes, "I'm thinking about earlier this afternoon when I saw you watching the batting practice pitcher throwing darts in the batting cage. The look on your face made me feel awful; it almost broke my heart. I wanted to kick myself for talking you into trying out for the team and I'm sorry. You told me you didn't want to do it and that should have been the end of it. I feel like shit for putting you in that awkward position."
I'm pushing at the bubbles on top of the water with both hands, not sure how to respond to Robby's sentiments. Saying something flip would be the easiest way to go but Rob's being serious so I say, "Ah, no problem, Robby. Everything worked out okay." With his arms around me, Rob's casually flicking a finger at my nip ring, probably not even realizing he's doing it but my nipple is getting hard. He murmurs, "I knew you'd say that but it's not okay! I learned a lesson and it's that I can't force my dreams, or not dreams exactly, my wishes... I can't force them on you. So I'm not gonna do that anymore."
Still pushing back at the bubbles that are like three feet high by now, I'm like, "Don't change, Robby," and he goes, "No, in some ways, I definitely need to be better. Um, like earlier when you dumped stuff out of the duffle bag. Omigod, normally I'd be like, 'Don't do that!' and I'd be picking shit up and refolding the clothes or whatever. That would have been stupid of me... so I refrained from doing or saying anything. Ya know, what's the difference if the clothes lie there for a while." I go, "Well I did shoot cum all over those clothes, so if they weren't there..." and Rob goes, "See, you make a joke out of everything." I murmur, "I'm sorry but, hey, I kinda like that you're neat and organized about everything. That doesn't bother me."
I could have added: 'Shopping for clothes or sports equipment with you though... now that's a totally other story altogether.... haha! I don't say that though because that would be flip. Robby gives my cheek a kiss, murmuring, "Thanks, babe. I'm really happy you like me as I am but I want to do better! I want to get better so I can take care of you and love you and I want us to have the best life together any two people ever had. You need to tell me when there's something you don't like or don't wanna do and mostly I need to listen!" I say, "I want the same things you do Robby and I love you too so we should be on our way to having what you said: the best year of our lives and that's really saying something considering we've already had some awesome years together!"
With nice smelling bubbles all around us, we talk about what we need to do for the apartment and Robby tells me again that he wants to do more cooking with me, reinforcing what he said last semester. Oh hell, we talk about a lot of things. Not far in the future things so much as more immediate goals for the short term. Sometimes Robby likes to go off on a tangent about our future but today it's more about the here and now.
As we talk he continues giving me caresses and kisses so I've become totally relaxed lying against him with the back of my head on his shoulder. I like listening to his boyish, earnest voice as he talks in that super sincere manner the way he does sometimes, like now. He mixes in compliments telling me how wonderful I am and with all this attention it's impossible not to feel special... and I do feel special. I feel lazy and comfortable and safe with Robby, especially when he's in this 'I'm gonna take care of you and make you so proud I'm your boyfriend and....' when he's in that kind of mood.
He's got my nipple with the ring so hard by now it's starting to ache a little so I gently push his fingers away and he says, "Oh, you know what? I'm gonna get a nip ring like yours, Dylan. I know I've talked about it before but this time I'm doing it. This weekend actually." I blink my eyes coming back to reality a little bit. Rob's voice for the last ten minutes had become sort of hypnotic and I almost dozed off there for a second. I go, "Robby, you don't need a nip ring! Your nipples are perfect the way they are." He chuckles, "I do have perfect nipples, that's true but I want us to be like twins. Like the college guys called us during that summer after our junior year of high school. We were by far the youngest kids on the lawn cutting crew, remember?" Yeah, I do and the older guys called us twins, Bobbsey Twins actually because we have almost the same shade of blond hair and blue eyes and we're about the same size, but we don't look anything alike. That summer we were more like the crew's mascots than anything else.
I'm like, "Nip rings hurt bad, Robby, and they're not worth the pain. Trust me on that." He goes, "I don't care, I want one," so I go, "For Christ sakes, you got both your ears pierced because I had both of mine pierced but then you hardly ever wear earrings so why get another piercing you probably won't wear a ring in either?" I feel him shrug his shoulders as he mutters, "I just want one and anyway... I wear my fucking earrings! The ones you gave me for Christmas especially. I had them on, um, recently." No, he didn't! I mutter, "The piercings will close up if you don't wear something to keep them open ya know."
My last remark results in another shrug as Rob rubs the back of his fingers up the hair on the side of my head. Apparently, he doesn't want to pursue this 'nip ring' discussion because he knows I'm right. Instead, he mumbles, "You need to ask Danny for a haircut." I'm like, "Yeah? So you're telling me that it's official now that you're done with haircutting?" He goes, "Yeah, let Danny do it. I was the barber all summer and it's, I don't know, it's not my thing. Too tedious." Turning my head on his shoulder so I'm looking at him, I go, "I liked you being my barber and you finally got pretty good at it too." His arm goes around the side of my neck, bubbles coming with it, and he gives me a squeeze pulling my face against the side of his chin as he says, "Didn't you hear what I just said? Let Danny do it, okay?" I go, "Ooou, that sounded bossy!" and he defensively says, "No, that wasn't bossy! It's just, um, more of a suggestion 'cause," and he snorts out a laugh, "Because I don't wanna do it anymore," and another chuckle.
Leaving the side of my forehead against the side of Rob's chin I go, "Okay but Danny says he wants to do a flattop haircut on my head." Rob goes, "Yeah? Heh heh, well you've looked good with a flattop in the past." I pinch some skin on his side and he yelps as I say, "Flattop haircuts are grossly out of style, Rob! In case ya didn't know that." He goes, "Don't pinch me; that hurt! And so what if they're out of style?" I sit up a little, muttering, "I'm turning on the hot water again. It's only lukewarm in here now," and I reach over and turn the hot water spigot on. Immediately the sound of water gurgling down the overflow drain starts up again.
Leaning back against Rob's chest, he puts his arms around me and I ask, "I've been wondering how much you tell Danny about us; about you and me?" He chuckles, "Probably too much. I'm always talking about you because you're my favorite topic, my favorite person in the world, my favorite everything." I go, "Gee thanks, but he seems to know a shit load of private stuff." Rob goes, "Like what?" It's my turn to shrug as I mumble, "Oh, I don't know but when we, for example, once in a blue moon have a buddy, um, thingie he said he knows I like it kinda rough." In a bit of an exasperated manner Rob huffs and goes, "C'mon, babe, we both know we're all, as you say, once in a blue moon doing that... but there's no need to discuss it. It's just something we're presently doing and I'm sorry about whatever I may have mentioned to him about you. C'mon though, the three of us are pretty tight buddies, don'cha think? Ya know, so what's the big deal if we know stuff about each other."
Huh, he handled that pretty fucking cleverly and at the same time totally eliminated any need for hesitation one might feel about doing buddy sex with Danny... for either of us. I think I like his answer so I'll drop it, except for a muttered, "You're right, yeah."
Since I didn't argue with that point, Rob goes back to his nip ring discussion, mumbling, "I'm hoping you'll come with me when I get my nipple pierced this weekend." Why does everyone ask me to do that? I go, "No, I won't go with you because I don't want you to get your fucking nipple pierced and I refuse to be an enabler." He says in a funny cartoon voice, "But we'll be twins again." Grinning, I mimic his voice, "But we don't fuckin' look alike," and Rob gets serious, and says, "Of course we don't look alike, babe. You're the cutest, best-looking guy who ever lived, but our nipples look like twins." I chuckle, "Oh man, that's a stretch! Ah, fuck it though. If you're so intent on doing it I'll go with you but afterward, I don't want to hear any bitching from you about the pain you're gonna feel for six or eight weeks every time you roll over in bed."
We discuss that for a while and then Rob gets the shampoo, telling me, "Sit up, Dylan, and I'll shampoo your hair and then you do mine." I sit up and he wets my hair with handfuls of bubbly water. Then he shampoos my hair with a good scalp massage as a bonus. My scalp is tingly now. When he's done that I cause lots of water to splash over the side of the tub by moving around facing Rob so I can shampoo his hair. It's a sexy thing to do if you ask me.
When I'm done that we look at each other, both of us with a head full of shampoo bubbles and I ask, "How the hell are we going to rinse the shampoo out? Certainly not in this buddle bath water!" We both look up at the shower head and Rob laughs and then mutters, "I hope the water doesn't leak through to the apartment under us because there's gonna be a lot of water on the floor." I mutter, "I'll say," and Rob goes, "We might as well wash each first though before turning the shower on to rinse."
What a fucked up plan we had here from the start, but we're laughing about it. When we've washed each other to within an inch of our lives we pull the tub's plug and turn the shower on. What a mess! Again laughing like ten-year-olds we rinse off with water splashing all over the bathroom, but we get rinsed off very well. After drying ourselves we then use every towel we brought with us to mop up the floor. The sopping wet towels get put into the big trash bags they came out of and we set the bags in the tub because they're leaking. Rob blows out his cheeks and mutters, "Guess we'll get to see what the laundry room is like in this building, huh?" I go, "Yeah, obviously, and I'll throw my jeans and khakis in with the towels." Rob goes, "What?" and I shrug, "You know, the clothes I dumped on the floor and then shot my load on." He makes a 'face' but refrains from criticizing.
What idiots we are though, heh heh. We get dressed in shorts and t-shirts and then lug the heavy bags with the wet towels and my jeans to the basement. There are two washing machines and two dryers, none of them requiring money like in a laundromat. The cost for this laundry room is included in the rent. And, no one is using either machine so we overload both, toss in some Tide pods, and get the machines running.
As we're going back upstairs to our apartment I can't help but feel really good about the awesome things Robby said to me in the bathtub. It's so fabulous being in love. It rocks and makes me feel wanted and loved and ain't life just the best thing ever! Then, more than a few times during the next couple of hours, I reevaluated how grand life is as we're sweating again putting everything away we brought with us. And then it's even more tedious when we begin hooking up all our electronics. We can't get WIFI even though it's supposed to be included as part of the rent so Rob's on the phone yelling back and forth with some woman about that. I'm testing the TV to see if we have a cable connection... and we do. Huh, that's odd!
Finally, a tech-savvy young guy working for the apartment complex comes over to help us out. He's an overweight jovial fellow who's in serious need of some underarm deodorant. His name is, Chuck, and Chuck screws around a bit with the equipment trying to get us online while never stopping his monologue about the two-week vacation he had in Alaska this past summer. Rob and I exchange 'looks', rolling our eyes until Chuck proclaims that it's our router that's fucked. He used a more technical term but it meant the same thing. Yeah, come to think of it the router was dropped on the steps a couple of times while we were hurrying to transport everything from the pickup to the apartment. It kept falling out the top of an overloaded cardboard box. I guess something broke or, who knows what the fuck happened inside that thing. The techie only cares that it's not their fault; not The Royal Crest Estates' fault.
When the guy's getting ready to leave neither Rob nor I know when tipping is appropriate, so we decided to err on our side and not tip Chuck. Fuck, he didn't fix anything plus we have no way of knowing if what he said is accurate. We decide to believe him for now though because what other choice do we have? So, when we've done everything we can do to set our apartment up the way we want, Rob's like, "Guess we go shopping for a new router now, Dylan."
Not only a new router, but we need other stuff too so we go to the Target store in Salem, New Hampshire. In addition to a $69.99 router we also get a slipcover for the sofa, a tall plastic kitchen trash can, bathroom mats, an inexpensive throw rug for beside our bed because it's a hardwood floor in there, and about ten other things we decide we want as we push the shopping cart around this huge store. At the register, Rob puts the cost of everything on his debit card and we continue on our way to the conveniently located Stop & Shop store near our apartment. Stop & Shop is a half mile up route 114 which is the road The Royal Crest Apartments are located on as well.
Inside Stop & Shop, there's a Citizen Bank ATM machine where I withdraw money from my checking account amounting to half the cost of everything we just bought at Target. Turning to Rob, I give him the money because we split the cost of everything except when we treat each other occasionally to lunch or dinner... or something like that.
Rob takes charge of pushing one of the big shopping carts around Stop & Shop. We need the big cart because for a first trip to the supermarket the food order ends up being a large one. Rob's more than okay with letting me chose almost everything as he pushes the cart slowly up and down every aisle. When the cart's basically full we check-out ourselves at one of the self-serve registers and then I pay for it with my debit card. Robby gives me some of the cash I gave him a half hour ago for his share of the groceries.
Back at the apartment, we lug everything up to our place and by now our asses are dragging. No matter, we still need to put all the food away. After that, we hookup the router and get online. Yeah, Chuck was right! So that's good and then I hold up the new slipcover. We look at each other, shrug, and then try putting on the sofa's new slipcover. After a ten-minutes struggle with that, it finally dawns on us that this style slipcover is never going to fit this fucking sofa. Instead of snapping at each other because we're both frustrated and tired, I mumble, "Of course it doesn't fit. That'd be too easy. Fuck it though, help me put this piece of shit slipcover back in the plastic container it came in and we'll exchange it whenever we get around to it." Rob nods and we do that and then decide we've done enough for one day. There are other things we need to do like put away the things we bought at Target, including hanging the shower curtain... but not now!
Our bed is made up which is the most important thing. We bought the new mattress and pillows after we rented this apartment last week. They were delivered earlier in the week and we paid in advance for the superintendent to accept the delivery since we were still at home. And we brought with us the new sheets and blankets and all that sort of thing that we also bought the day we rented this place. So the bed is pristine and I can hardly wait to try it out tonight!
After we wash up it's already seven o'clock and we're hungry but we don't feel like cooking so we agree to go out to eat. Walking downstairs to the first floor, I say, "Let's have a smoke and decide where we wanna eat." Robby mumbles, "Good idea." We lean against the pickup smoking Marlboro Lights and looking around for a minute before Robby says, "They do a nice job of landscaping around here. The entire complex actually." I nod and say, "And it's a really nice evening too." It's still light of course and the temperature has dropped to the low seventies. Exhaling smoke, Rob goes, "Well, we deserve to pat ourselves on the back because we got a shit load of stuff accomplished today. I'm glad it's done too."
There is a great sense of accomplishment which makes me feel good. Were kinda beat-up though, plus we should have waited to take a bath until after we did all the work because we got sweatier doing all that unpacking and whatever, sweatier than we were when we took our bath.
Still, the bath was fun. I take a drag off my cigarette, saying, "My favorite part of the day was our bath." Rob chuckles because I said that so solemnly, although I didn't mean to. I snicker at that too because we're both punch drunk by now. Rob says, "Yeah, Dylan, that bath rocked!" and then, "Oh shit, I better text Mom and Dad that everything is good," and he does that while I think, 'Huh, I'd never do that with Mom. For so many years it's like Chub and I just took care of everything and our Moms came to assume we would.' Hell, Mom would be worried that something was wrong if I texted her... and she's working now anyway. Different situations, obviously, but I think it's good of Rob to put his parent's minds at ease.
After texting, Rob suggests we have an easy dinner at the Beef and Ale House but for some reason, probably because I had dinner at a similar place with that guy in Hartford, I don't want to go there. Before I can come up with an alternative suggestion my cell phone rings and when I take it out I see it's a call from Chubby. I'm like, "Hey, brother, wassup?" Chub says, "How ya doing, Dylan? Hey, whaddaya doing now?" I say, "Rob and I are deciding where to have dinner. Do you want to come with us?" He says, "I'm with a couple of guys and, yeah, we haven't had dinner either. How about if we meet you wherever you decide but more importantly you and I need to have a private brother's dinner soon; just the two of us. Maybe this weekend." I go, "Yeah, for sure. Let me call you back in a minute."
Robby asks, "Was that Jeff?" I nod and say, "Let's have dinner at Bertucci's. It's close and reasonably priced. Chub and a couple of his friends want to meet us wherever we decide." Before Rob can say anything about that his cell phone beeps indicating a text. Rob looks at his phone and says, "It's Danny asking what we're doing." He texts back and forth with Danny and as it turns out Danny's already had dinner in the dining hall with his new roommate, Carl Hill. He wants to meet us for a beer someplace later though. Danny last text says that he'll text when we're finished eating. Looking up, Rob goes, "Sure, Bertucci's is fine. Tell Jeff we'll meet him there. It's like three minutes from here."
When I tell Chubby, he goes, "We're on our way." Rob and I step on our cigarette butts and get in his pickup. As he drives out of the apartment complex, he goes, "You know I really like your brother but I was kinda wishing we could eat alone tonight. I wanted to continue telling you how special I think you are. You were awesome with everything today and, I don't know, I just feel all mushy about you. I want you all to myself." I'm like, "Oh, wow! I like the sound of that. Right after dinner, you should feel free to continue thinking along those lines." He goes, "I'm serious," and I go, "And I love that you're serious about that, Robby. I didn't mean to be flip about it, really! You are so fucking good to me... never think I don't realize that."
Waiting at the traffic light across from Bertucci's Rob seems contemplative before saying, "I don't know, but sometimes I don't feel I tell you often enough just how much I love you and how special I think you are or how special you make me feel." I go, "Oh, I think the same about you." He looks at me and snickers, saying, "Let's carry on like this at dinner and see if we can make one of those guys throw up." Haha, I go, "Or one of us." He says, "I can't help getting mushy when I think about you, baby." I go, "Let's wait though and then get sickeningly mushy in bed tonight." We chuckle about that but I really do feel great about Rob's sentiments. You can never say 'I love you' too often. Well, I guess you could, but we catch ourselves and don't do that... very often.
We get a lucky parking spot right in front of the restaurant. This is prime time for the dinner crowd so Bertucci's will be a busy place. It's so close to Merrimack the students from the dorms can walk here. And to Burger King as well as it's right across the street from Bertucci's, and then down one mile the other way on route 114 is Fuddruckers. All three restaurants get plenty of business from Merrimack students.
As soon as I step out of the car I see Chubby riding shotgun in a car that turns into the parking lot and then parks down from us. I don't recognize the driver but John Beverly is in the backseat with his mouth running. He talks a lot. Damn though, I don't want to dislike him just because he's become so tight with Chubby. It'd be really pathetic of me to be jealous of that. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time I've had that thought so maybe I am jealous. Of course, that would be insane because Chubby's been very supportive of my relationship and, generally-speaking, my long love affair with Rob. Well, not always, but for the past few months he definitely has been supportive so why should I begrudge Chubby a close friend like that big-mouth, John Beverly? No reason for that at all.
I watch as they get out of the car and then I mumble to Rob, "Chub and his friends are over there." Rob looks and then yells, "Jeff," and Chub looks over and smiles giving a little wave. They begin walking towards us and as I'm getting a better look at the guy who was driving I'm pretty sure I've met him before although I'm not sure when or where. As for his name... forget about it.
Robby knows John Beverly of course and we all do the normal half a hug greeting with John pointing at the stranger saying to Rob and me, "This is Christopher Straight. I think you've met him before, Dylan. He was my freshman roommate," and then he tells Christopher our names. We bump fist, muttering, "How ya doing?"
The five of us walk toward the front door with Chubby giving me another hug, asking, "You moved in okay, brother?" I nod, "Yep, how 'bout you?" and we exchange moving horror stories because there are always some of those. Chub and John Beverly are in the new dormitory. It's new but, wouldn't ya know it, the building's WIFI wasn't working or something and that's really annoying as well as a coincidence considering Rob's and my WIFI problem. Everyone needs computer access or they're basically fucked.
Inside we need to wait to be seated and while John Beverly is yapping about something I sneak a peek at this Christopher person. He's one of those guys who could just as easily be thirty years old as twenty-two. I mean if you go strictly by his face. He's tall and big like so many guys are; girls too. John Beverly isn't especially slim but Chubby, Rob, and I are which, by comparison, highlights how much Christopher isn't. He's a big boy at six feet, two inches tall and, I don't know but he looks sort of like an American Indian. It's his prominent cheekbones, swarthy complexion, and dark hair I guess that makes me think that. He also has a big nose and a wide mouth, not that I'm insinuating American Indians have big noses and wide mouths. That's not part of the reason I said the guy reminds me of an Indian. Oh fuck, I probably just fucked up eighteen politically correct rules. It's difficult to know exactly when that happens. Hard to keep up with the latest 'thing' that offends some-fucking-body...
Well, what the hell? I tap the guy's arm and ask, "Are you partially American Indian by any chance?" He goes, "How did you know that, pale face?" I go, "No, seriously," and he goes, "Yeah, I actually am part Indian for real. My grandmother is from the Wawtachtonoc tribe that was located primarily in Connecticut. There's some kind of Mohegan connections too." Hmmm, am I being put on? He adds, "Since I wasn't sure, I did that genealogy thing online. They tell you just enough to peak your interest and then you need to pay to find out the details." He speaks quietly and I get the feeling he's a really nice person, but is he really part American Indian... or just a good bullshitter?
Whatever, just from what little he said I can tell he's an unassuming nice guy. I go, "That's interesting. How much did the genealogy thing cost? I'd like to do that," and he tells me some details about cost as well as the information you need to provide them. As he's telling me that I hear John Beverly and Rob laughing at something Chub said to the receptionist. Whatever he said, we're now all following the lady to our table ahead of some others who were waiting for a table; people who were here before us. Yeah, so there's some grumbling from the crowd.
Anyway, the specific information needed for the genealogy site about grandparents and my father and some other stuff kinda screws-up my chances of finding out anything genealogy-wise about myself. Maybe Mom and Tris have that information but I sure don't. It'd be interesting to know if I'm related to, um, somebody famous, ya know?
We get seated at one of the tables for six which is probably why we got seated ahead of those other couples looking for a table for two or four. I don't know why, but Christopher is wearing a backpack that he puts on the extra chair. I've had this recurring curiosity about what the fuck is in the backpacks I see people wearing all the fuck over the place. Going to school a backpack is understandable but what's in a businessman's backpack? A laptop and maybe some papers but why a backpack and not some less goofy method of carrying those couple of items? Yeah, I'm probably the only person on the planet who gives a shit about that.
Once Christopher answered my 'Indian' question he doesn't say another word all through dinner. He's a very quiet guy who just listens to what everyone else is saying and looks appropriately interested and/or laughs along with the rest of us. I get the feeling he does that a lot. A quiet guy like Christopher must have worked out well as John Beverly's roommate considering how much John always has to say.
The conversation is mostly all about our senior year and what we can expect and then John regales us with tales of his and Chubby's shenanigans yesterday with the girls they knew from last year. Their so-called Labor Day cookout was ninety percent booze and ten percent pizza delivered from the Pizza Factory to the campus. Plus innuendos of a sexual nature that none of us cares to hear any additional details. Rob and I don't want to hear about it because we're members of a different tribe and Christopher doesn't because he doesn't ask questions about anything.
We all have beers to start with and then another round of beers as we order appetizers that we all share and then another round of beers when we order our dinners and then a beer with dinner when it finally arrives. Bertucci's isn't known for quick service, quite the opposite, so there's plenty of time to drink their overpriced beers. That's probably why the service is slow in the first place. We all order Italian meals since this is an Italian restaurant after all. There's a fish option for those so inclined. None of us were so inclined.
It's a fun dinner and then we don't spend much time splitting the bill five equal ways. I've seen girls occasional trying to do that; splitting their lunch bill for example and it doesn't go smoothly. They're like, 'You had the cocktail which is more than the iced tea and you had an appetizer and Sara didn't and etc, etc.' Gives you a headache before they figure it all out.
We're all feeling good after those beers and outside after some quick friendly hugs we part company promising to do it again soon, although we probably won't. Those three have something going on back at the dorm and as they drive off Robby asks me, "What do ya think, babe, should I text Danny?" I nod, "Yeah, let's get smashed tonight." As he's texting, he mutters, "I don't know about that but we can at least have a beer or two with our compadre." Heh heh, Rob's already a tad smashed saying 'compadre'.
Rob looks up from his cell phone, asking, "Do you know where McMann's Tavern is? That's where Danny and his roommate are." I shrug, "Never heard of it," and Rob types on his cell phone and after a thirty-second wait for the reply, he says to me, "The bar is right on Route 114 in Middleton." That's the very next town west of North Andover, about ten miles from Merrimack. I go, "Let's check it out," and we get in the pickup with Rob saying, "Pretty good time at dinner, huh?" I go, "Yeah, but that Christopher is a quiet guy." Rob says, "Yeah, he's a nice guy though, don't ya think?" I mumble, "Yeah, except I don't see him fitting in with my brother and John Beverly on their, um, never-ending sex-craved exploits." Rob chuckles, muttering, 'Ya never know about the quiet ones. They can fool you."
It's like a fifteen-minute ride before we see a sign for McMann's Tavern. It's in the middle of six stores and it wouldn't be a bar I'd think to stop at. For one obvious reason, I see the Middleton Police Station cattycorner from the bar on the other side of traffic lights for a five-way intersection. Also, where the hell do we park? Plus I prefer self-standing bars as opposed to ones in a strip mall, same for restaurants. It's my thing, ya know?
Rob drives past the bar to the traffic light and then turns right to park half a block up the street. Getting out he mutters, "Not the most convenient bar I've ever been to. Leave it to Danny to find a dive like this." When we go inside the bar though we see it's not a 'dive' at all. Nice looking long bar and there's upholstered bar stools with backs. No tables though and no games like shuffleboard or a pool table, just a bar with one bartender and twenty-some customers half of whom appear to be college students. There's just enough conversational noise plus background babble from the three big TV screens that you don't feel uncomfortable talking to your friends.
There's a college lacrosse game on one TV if you can believe that, and baseball games on the others. Danny and his roommate are sitting near the back of the bar so we walk almost the length of the bar with the bartender watching us all the way. We all do some pats on the shoulder and fist bump as Danny goes, "That was a long dinner you two derelicts had. Where ya been?" Okay, Danny's obviously had a few too many beers already. Robby goes, "We ate with Dylan's brother and a couple of guys, and yeah there were a number of beers involved. It was a good time."
Danny goes, "Let me introduce you to my roommate, Carl Hall, or Specks, as he prefers to be called," and to Carl, he says, "These are the two super dudes I was telling you about." He points at Robby, saying, 'That's Rob Dickers," and pointing at me, he goes," and then the extraordinary, Dylan Newman." I'm not paying much attention because I'm fixated on a young-looking kid with, of all things, a flattop haircut and a ring through his nose. They just don't go together. A nose ring and a flattop, ya know? Plus Danny's been talking about flattop haircuts lately and ya just don't see many guys with that haircut anymore. Maybe five or six years ago you would, when Rob and I were kids and had flattops ourselves, but not now.
Anyway, I didn't hear most of what Danny just said although I nod at his roommate while muttering the usual, "Nice to meet ya," and the guy punches Danny's arm, saying to him, "Goddamn, Monday, you weren't exaggerating! These two boys are smoking hot!" Rob makes a 'face' because it was a creepy thing for him to say, especially with us standing right here. The guy is squinting at us as though he's having trouble seeing and then I go, "Yeah well, okay then! Let me buy a round," and I motion at the bartender who comes right over saying what you'd expect, "Let me see some ID, fellows."
So that's Danny's roommate, huh? He's an average looking guy with brown hair and eyes, like the majority of us Caucasians. I don't know, but to me, Carl seems jittery like he's nervous, or maybe he's on drugs. Anyway, Rob and I hand our licenses to the bartender and he hands them back as I push a twenty dollar bill towards the bartender, saying, "Four of whatever draft these boys are drinking." The bartender says, "Four Bud coming up." Rob ask Carl, "What's your sport?" He knows Carl has to be on one of the Merrimack teams if he's in an athlete's dormitory. I hear him tell Rob he's on the soccer team but currently on injured reserve for some reason. Carl has the routine 'regular' SuperCut type haircut with the neckline squared off. Ya know, someone should arrest whichever barber first started doing that shortcut of just squaring off the back of your hair making it look like you're wearing a hair helmet. Haircut-wise it's fucking criminal!
Carl appears to be shorter than me but he's sitting so it's hard to tell how much shorter, and he has an okay body. I'd expect that since he is a soccer player and all those guys do is run their asses off up and down the field. Okay, he just slid off the stool to get money out of his skinny jeans and I see he's a couple inches shorter than Rob and, whoa, the kid has a very hot ass. Two nicely rounded and compact matching half cantaloupe-sized butt cheeks that stick up ever so slightly. Yeah, nice and tight in his skinny jeans. I'd like to grab one of his butt cheeks because it looks like it's about as big as my hand and I'd bet anything it's nice and firm.
Rob made the mistake of asking Carl that sport's question so now he's stuck sitting next to him. Then I hear Carl make a big mistake himself by saying, "Monday says you're gonna try out as a pitcher for the team this year." Robby goes, "Nah, that was just a passing thought, I'm actually..." and Carl better like hearing about baseball because Rob is off and running with that. I'm on the other side of our group sitting next to Danny who puts his arm around my shoulders and whispers, "How about last week, Dylan; didn't we have a blast at my place?" I go, "Oh yeah, until you crashed and burned," and we talk about that for a while even though we just talked about it at Hayden's cookout yesterday.
It doesn't especially matter to me what Danny's talking about because mostly I just like to watch him talk. His lips are sexy; well, his whole mouth is sexy actually. Pretty eyes too and Danny's always very animated and excitable. He's like a big adorable puppy dog. His pretty eyes shine and I like his narrow eyebrows... haha! Yeah, I like that on a guy. Big bushy or wide eyebrows look like shit, but what's a guy gonna do about it, ya know? Nothing, that's what!
Anyway, Danny's attractive but, and I hate to admit it, he does need a haircut. That's the trouble with short hairstyles; in two or three weeks you need another one. That's if you care about things like that, which I admit most guys don't. The problem is... if Danny needs a haircut then so do I. We got our last haircuts the same day although I have no intention of mentioning that.
Danny's saying, "My point is, let's do that sleeping together thing again." I go, "Oh yeah! Shit, how about tomorrow night? Your roommate, Carl, can sleep at the apartment with Rob and I'll spend the night in the dorm with you." He goes, "Don't be lame! I meant some night during Thanksgiving break. Something like that... and I won't have too much to drink next time." I mutter, "Jesus, I hope we don't need to wait until Thanksgiving to do that." He frowns, " You mean sleep over at my house?" I go, "No, ya nut. I mean you and me having buddy sex!" He nods, "I thought that's what you meant. Be patient, babe."
Ha, I can't wait for the sleepover during Thanksgiving break. Yeah, that sounds great except I have trouble planning what to wear to bed tonight never mind what I'll be doing ten weeks from now. Nevertheless, I go, "But the Thanksgiving thing sounds like a great idea too, Danny." I want to keep him talking, and he does go on with, "Rob hasn't said anything to me about that night last week you stayed overnight with me. Has he said anything to you?" I shrug, "Hardly anything," and Danny goes, "See!" Proving a point I've apparently missed.
I'd like to get smashed tonight. I mean after the day we just had we deserve to tie on a load, but both Rob and I fade quickly and we start saying we need to get to bed. Today has been tough and we started early this morning. Danny's passed the point of making good choices though and he talks Carl into staying for another beer, which will become another and then another and so forth. It's time for Rob and me to go before we get caught up in that irresponsible cycle.
We do some brief hugs and then Rob and I are walking back to the car as he says, "That Carl is an okay guy," and I nod mumbling, "Uh-uh." I know why Rob liked the guy: it's because Carl listens with interest to every detail Rob was telling him about the swing changes he's making this year. The ones he developed during the summer baseball league. God bless him... Carl, not Rob, haha!
It's not a long drive back to the apartment and when we're inside Rob suggests a shower before bed. We had that crazy bath hours ago but then worked our asses off setting up the apartment so we both need a shower. Which means first we need to put up the shower curtain. That's a pain in the ass chore when sober never mind when we're both slightly drunk. Well, the result of our curtain-hanging efforts leaves something to be desired. We started pushing the hanging clips off the shower rod through the openings at the top of the shower curtain from opposite ends but when we meet in the middle there's two hanging clips and only one opening.
We exchange 'looks' and mutter at the same time, "Fuck it," and leave it like that until later. We're gonna take separate showers because now that we're in our apartment we don't feel rushed about getting to bed. We flip a coin to see who showers first and Rob goes first. Catching our second wind we figure time isn't important because our only class tomorrow is the one at three o'clock in the afternoon. No matter what time we get to sleep tonight we can make up for it sleeping late tomorrow morning.
While Rob's in the bathroom I'm wandering around the apartment looking at everything and the only bad piece of furniture I see is the sofa and that wouldn't be all that bad except for the big mysterious stain on the cushions. The rest of the furnishings look fairly new. Looking closely at the sofa cushions I can't for the life of me decide what that stain is. Actually, it's best not thinking of the possibilities so I look away.
Ten minutes later Rob walks out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, saying, "The bathroom is all yours, Dylan." I nod and mutter, "Okay," as Rob joins me in the kitchen to take out our recently purchased bottle of Advil from a cabinet. Holding the bottle up he looks at me with a questioning expression and I hold my hand out. Rob dumps two Advil in my hand and we both take a couple of preventive Advil with water. I say 'preventive' because neither of us has a headache at the moment. Frankly, I'm not expecting any kind of serious hangover tomorrow either. Not from the six or seven beers I had tonight, or maybe it was eight. The Advil is probably unnecessary, like wearing a belt and suspenders.
Our apartment has cooled down now that the air conditioner's been working for the past four hours but the bathroom is steamy and hot from Rob's shower. No problem though. I take a quick shower and towel off before walking naked into the bedroom where Robby's at his desk tapping on his computer. He turns around smiling, saying, "Don't put anything on, babe. I need me some naked Dylan Newman tonight," and he gets up dropping the towel from around his waist. I mutter, 'Were you just looking at porn?" and Robby laughs. "No way! I don't need porn, baby, I got you," and he wraps his arms around me and we kiss.
Goddamn but I like this latest version of Robby! He's aggressive about initiating sex and that makes me feel good. It'd make anyone feel good being desired like this! Ya know the fact he's aroused by me is kind of an implied compliment.
Rob and I feel as comfortable with each other naked as we do fully dressed and while I suppose many couples feel that way I still include it as just one more reason we're perfect together. I don't know why but I've always been very comfortable being naked and the Moms have funny stories of me when I was a little kid routinely walking outside naked. It's not like I think I've got the hottest body in town either, and that's certainly not what I thought when I was a little kid! I don't know what the reason is but I feel fine naked or dressed.
Being naked right now with Robby works out especially well because of the anticipated sex act we're about to engage in together. That holds true not just for us... for anybody. Heh heh, that's one of the 'tips' I'll include in my book titled, 'Is It Possible To have Too much Sex?' My book will be available soon on Amazon.com. By soon I mean within the next thirty years when I get around to writing it which will be right after I get around to correcting the problem I have with procrastinating.
We're standing next to the bed as Robby picks up the tube of lubricant from the bedside table and squeezes a small dab on his fingers and then tosses the tube to me, saying, "That's the last of that tube. Do you know where my Astroglide is?" I go, "My best guess is it's probably in your toiletry kit." Stroking the small amount of lube he got from the basically empty tube up and down his fat cock, he grins, "Oh, ya think?" It doesn't look like he's gonna look for his lube so I squeeze this tube from the bottom to the top and barely get enough lube to wipe around my asshole and a little bit smeared inside.
Wiping his hand on some tissues, Robby goes, "I don't get why I'm feeling so horny all the time, babe. We've been screwing like minks lately." I'm looking at his hard cock, mumbling, "Lots of people fuck more than we do. I read that online." He chuckles, "Oh good, thank God we're not perverts," and he pushes me up against the side of the bed, adding, "I liked doing it with you on your back and your ass just over the edge of the bed. It's sexy seeing you holding your legs up with that anticipation in your eyes."
Slipping past him, I go, "Not on the bed, Rob! We've got the new mattress and all the brand new bedding!" He takes two steps to me, grinning again, saying, "You can't escape me, baby," and he takes hold of my biceps and pulls me to him for a sloppy kiss on my mouth and then says seriously, "I'll never get tired of sex with you, Dylan. When we're fifty I'll be chasing you around the bedroom if necessary." Standing in the middle of our bedroom Rob turns me around, leaving his left arm around my stomach as he guides his cock to my puckered asshole and, "Umm," the fat head forces open my anus and goes in very, very snugly. He's docked now so his right arm joins his left around my stomach and he pulls me back against him slowly until I'm against his chest with that fat hard cock of his sliding very tightly up inside me as I'm gasping, "Oh, ooh, ooooh!"
His groin, tight against my buttock now, Rob puts his chin on my shoulder and then turns his head to lightly bite my ear giving me chills even though my ass still burns. After a few seconds, he murmurs, "Does it feel good yet, babe?" It's getting there so I nod my head slightly and Rob humps against my buttocks a few times giving my rectum another few seconds to adjust before he starts fucking my ass. He starts off doing it slowly with him quietly moaning, "Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, oooh this feels so good."
Soon I'm moaning too and my body relaxes and it becomes all deliciously sexy. No sounds of males fucking because he's not slamming his cock up inside me. It's steady smooth trips back and forth in my stretched asshole with his fat boner hitting all the pleasure places transporting both of us to a beautiful place. Sex is so awesome and especially when done with my lover boy, his familiar scent in my head and the feel of his hot body against mine, his strong arms around me and the feel of his breath on the side of my face... Jesus, this is so perfect being tightly together sharing the highest pleasure I know of, everything inside me tingling with awesomeness. It's wonderful feeling his hard cock moving up and back in my now cooperative ass that seems to grip at his steadily moving hard organ.
I've given up attempts to put words together in my head that adequately describe the level of pleasure and contentment I'm feeling but I can't imagine anyone feeling better. Not about being fucked and feeling better than I do, and like I said, especially when it's Robby doing the fucking. It's obvious we're enjoying this together too, and that knowledge sets me free to mostly concentrate on my own pleasure with the knowledge floating around both of us that sharing this pleasure together makes it better than anything.
Even to myself, I sound like a moaning machine that's in ecstasy mode, "Oooh, oooh, ooh. Oooh, Robby..." To me, moaning seems to add to my pleasure along with the spike in sensations each thrust of that hard body-part of Rob's creates. And it's constant stimulation that's seeming with no end when I'm in the middle of it. Five, six, and then seven luscious minutes before there's a... 'click'... when my climax engages and the thrills reach new levels. These climax sensations are pretty much uncontrollable, not that anyone in their right mind would object to the inevitable crescendo in that final fraction of a second when ...BOOM! and you're in the stars for a brief moment in time. Just you.
My growing orgasm is an uncontrollable force, each new level of pleasure attained coincides with the ever building anticipation of the final moment which always takes me away to places beyond pleasure. It's growing quickly and then Rob's climax must have engaged as well and he begins faster thrusting making more desperate breathing sounds plus now the "Slapslapslap," sounds that hasten my already out of control rush to climax with me leaning forward and grabbing my knees because sensations soar even higher in this position... and now my entire reason for existing is all about my impending climax!
"Slapslapslap," has Rob grunts with the effort and I'm jostled back and forth with Robby's hands on my hips now pulling my ass back into his thrusts. I've no control over a single thing in this world at the moment when every muscle in my body tightens and my eyes open wide as I squeal, "Eiiiiahh," with cum pumping out of my rigid boner that's swollen and throbbing with incredible pleasure sensations and then a second and third string of cum shoots out. Dazzling sparks of light dance before my eyes as I gasp taking in a huge inhale trying to catch my breath and feeling otherworldly. Somewhere in a tiny part of my brain, I'm aware Robby is tight against my butt cheeks humping and filling me up with his creamy spunk and then another hump from Rob with more of his jism flowing up my ass.
Mostly though I'm in this dazzling existence for a quick, much too short but incredibly intense microsecond of immense pleasure. It's so fleeting but at the same time so memorable for that brief moment, that brief dizzy moment of being transported to another dimension. I know I must return here again very soon and then there's the normal tantalizing after effect I've come to expect before I sigh contentedly and feel weak. My eyes droop as I'm half smiling at that too short ride to perfection.
I've returned from there but I'm still only partially aware of Rob's thrusting. He only does a few after-climax thrusts before pulling his cock from my body. Oh, what's this? My eyes blink quickly during my almost instantaneous return trip to earth and the shock of reality... and then it's: Holy shit! I straighten up and yell, "Fuck, I loved that!" Jesus, I'm yelling like a nerd after his first ever climax. Embarrassing actually, but that was really great. Robby starts to say something but he stops when we hear, "Thump, thump, thump," on the wall behind our bed's headboard and then a muffled shout we can't make out.
I turn my head to look at Rob. Both our mouths are hanging open as we frown like, What the fuck...? and then one more, "Thump!" Regaining my senses, I'm like, "Was that the next door neighbors banging on the wall?" Robby goes, 'What kind of an enormous asshole would do that?" Needless to say, both our dicks go soft as basically the thrill of that sexual trip around the universe has evaporated and the real world has come crashing up to meet our landing. Fuck!
Robby's grabbing tissues and wiping his dick, asking, "Do you think that wall is the next door asshole neighbor's bedroom?" I'm still making a 'face', an incredulous expression like, really? Now I'm blushing as well though because it's kind of embarrassing... my squeal, I mean. Well yeah, and the reason behind someone making that squeal too. It can only be one thing! Christ, and we'll see those assholes in the hall at times too...
Flustered, I'm grabbing a handful of tissues and swiping at my ass as I feel Rob's cum drooling out. I'm also changing my attitude from embarrassment to anger because the thrill of the last six or seven minutes is partially ruined by whoever the dipshit is who knocked on the wall. Rob's pulling on underpants, muttering, "That pisses me off. Hey, did we keep the plot layouts for the apartments? The one the rental lady gave us when we were renting this place last week?" I nod, "Yeah, it's in that box of papers we haven't gotten around to go through yet."
As I put on boxer shorts Rob starts going through the box of paperwork and then he mutters, "Here it is." He spreads it out on the desktop and we look at the red 'X' the lady made showing us the empty apartments, one of which is this one that we eventually rented. Robby's tapping his finger on the outline of the apartment next to ours, "Goddammit! I knew it! The bedroom for our neighbor is right next to our bedroom."
We study the layout some more but it is what it is. Rob goes, "Can I believe this shit? There's a half-inch wallboard, then a two by four separating their half-inch wallboard and that's all that's between them and us." I go, "Shhh, they'll hear us!" Robby gives me a frustrated look, muttering, "Don't joke around. This blows!" Yeah, but Whaddaya gonna do? Rob's nodding his head and then mutters, "And worse yet, with these smallish bedrooms they must have their bed right up against the wall like our bed is. How else could you logically set-up a bedroom this size?"
Looking at the layout again I see their apartment is set up next to ours but is laid out the opposite of ours. When we walk into our apartment the kitchen is to our left, the living room directly in front of the door. To the right of our living room is a short hall leading first to the bathroom and a little further down, our bedroom. The next apartment is laid out the opposite so the two bedrooms abut, side by side, and then their bathroom and then the living room and so forth. I'll be damned... that blows!
Rob and I are shaking our heads as I go, "Jesus, their balcony is the next one down too. Fuck, it's gonna be awkward when we're all out on the balconies." Rob goes, "Heh heh, wait till they see we're two guys too. Ya know, with one of us squealing three or four times a day." My exact thought of a minute ago so I snicker, "Probably freak them out."
To be ballbusters we open the sliding glass doors to step out and look defiantly down to the neighbor's balcony. I go, "They wouldn't have balls enough to step out on their balcony!" Rob mumbles, "Well it is like twenty-five feet away so that's better than right next to us." I nod, "Maybe that's the reason they switch the layouts from apartment to apartment." He shrugs, mumbling, "I suppose, but fuck 'em," and we go back inside.
Calming down we finally turn out the lights and get in bed to snuggle and talk about how fabulous our new mattress is and then giggle when I go, "Shhh, keep the whispering down Robby. I think I heard the sound of a stethoscope sliding on the wall behind our heads." Rob goes, "It's probably just an upside-down drinking-glass with their ear up against it." I mutter, "Go fuck yourselves, neighbors," and we snicker like little kids.
Mostly though we're enjoying this brand new, never before slept-on mattress and all the new bedding and pillows. Luxurious! It's not long though, after a day like we just had, that I hear Rob's steady breathing which tells me he's asleep. I lie over on my back thinking about Rob's and my sex life lately and how near-perfect it's been. Still, I'm noticing the itch to 'top' too. Yeah, I really would like to be on top once in a while but strangely not while having sex with Robby... or Danny for that matter. I love being the 'bottom' for those two boys so I've got myself another conundrum here. No, wait! Pony is due to arrive on Sunday and he likes me to be the big-shot, the guy-in-charge who will 'top' for him. Oh yeah, Pony! I hope he hasn't changed because I became very fond of him just the way he was. I mean, the way he was by the end of junior year. I loved that kid!
I try thinking about Pony a little, but the next thing I know Robby's pinching my nose, saying, "Are you going to sleep all day? It's eleven o'clock, baby." Opening my eyes I see Rob hovering over me. Is it morning already? He asks, "Ya wanna mess around?" I go, "Are you intending to ask me that question every fucking morning for the rest of our lives?" He nods, "Yeah, I am. So what?" I mutter, "I was just checking. Of course, I always want to mess around with you, big guy." He chuckles and asks, "Well, do ya think it's okay if we have sex in bed now that we've had a night on this pure mattress and bedding? Don't you agree that now we need to break this bed in for real!" Haha! Yeah, I do.
Smirking at him, I mutter, "You're such a sex fiend," and then get my arms around the back of his neck, whispering, "We gotta be very quiet about this. None of those, "slap slap' sounds or the neighbors will come through the wall with a sledgehammer." Rob snickers and loudly says, "Will you please whisper quieter!"
After a little wrestling around Rob pulls my boxer shorts down past my buttocks and fucks me hard with me on my back and my legs in the air, my feet dangling and swaying from the hard thrusting Rob's giving my ass. When he senses my body tightening and I'm about to climax he grabs a pillow and covers my face. After climaxing and gasping for air we're both giggling as Rob asks, "Do ya think they heard that?"
Probably they're at work by now but, Goddammit, it's always something in this life that ya just gotta deal with...
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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