Summer of Sex with Cowboy

MY SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY

Chapter 55

By Donny Mumford

I'm anxious to tell Bruce about our job opportunity so, instead of waiting for him to join me on the beach, I drop off the beach chair at the rental booth early and meet him when he finishes work. There's no getting around it, two days of less than stellar sex with Paul isn't cutting it. That's on my mind as I quickly walk up the boardwalk ramp envisioning Bruce getting super excited about our job opportunity, so much so that we immediately go to the apartment for early sex, celebrating our good luck.

Yeah, well, that would be fantastic, except perhaps Bruce won't think this is as great a job opportunity as I do. It entails an enormous commitment time-wise, and there are unappealing aspects of the job as well. Breaking it down, we'll be misrepresenting who we are and what we're about with people who perhaps have done nothing wrong. Yeah, but if they haven't done anything wrong, we'll be reporting that too, right?

Uh-oh, I'm starting to think negatively. I really shouldn't because Uncle Jo-Jo wouldn't put me in a bad position, and he wouldn't lie to me either. He merely wants to get to the bottom of the sexual harassment complaints within the corporation and avoid paying millions in compensation for sexual harassment that other entities have been forced to do. That seems a worthwhile endeavor on a number of fronts, but maybe Bruce will see it differently. Okay, what I'm going to do is tone down my enthusiasm, acting neutral about the job until I get Bruce's genuine reaction to it.

Waiting for him, I stand at the ocean-side railing, and, of course, he's right on time walking out of the cafe and heading for the ramp. Gee, he looks good with his longish hairstyle. Maybe I should let my hair grow out too. He's moving fast, so I call out, "Bruce, wait up!" He turns and gives me that great smile of his. The one that lights up his face allowing his unique cuteness to shine through.

Catching up with him, I put my arm across his shoulders, saying, "I've got big news, Bruce. My Uncle Jo-Jo has a job for us if we want it." Bruce's eyes open wide, "Seriously? What type of job?" I shrug, "First of all, it's kind of an unusual situation, but," and I tell him about how Jo-Jo and Mac were going to offer Ronny and me this job. Then that horrendous thing happened to Ronny, and they didn't want to mention the job while I was mourning Ronny's passing. I asked about a job, though, so Jo-Jo told me about it. Before I can get into details about what we'd be doing, Bruce interrupts.

He goes, "You know, I'm so sorry about that, Zach. I didn't know how to bring up your friend's death before, but I do feel terrible about what happened." I mumble, "Yes, it was horrendous, but I try not to think about it too much. I mean, it happened, and nothing will change that. I need to move on with my life, and you've made that possible for me." He goes, "Ya know what, babe? Let's stop at that bar down the block. You can talk about it if you'd like... get it off your mind. Whaddaya say?" I shake my head, "No. Um, I mean yes to the bar idea, but not to talk about, um, that. Let's talk about Jo-Jo's job." He goes, "Okay, sure, I'm wicked anxious to hear all about it."

We go into the same bar I was in three hours ago, and Bruce puts two twenties on the bar, making eye contact with the bartender. The guy saunters down to us, asking Bruce, "Do you have ID, pal?" Bruce turned twenty-three a few weeks ago, but he looks a lot younger, so, without arguing about it, he hands the guy his driver's license. Handing back the license, the guy goes, "What can I get you, boys?" Bruce says, "A couple of shots of Jim Beam and Bud drafts." Surprise!

We get our drinks, and the guy takes one of Bruce's twenties, rings up sixteen dollars on the cash register, slaps four singles on the bar in front of Bruce, and mumbles, ''Thanks, guys." It's always a struggle for me to let Bruce pay for stuff, but it's a big deal to him that he pays his way. We tap shot glasses; Bruce says, "To you, Zach, for changing my life, and with this job, it will change more, and all for the better too." I mutter, "Uh-huh, I sure hope so," and we flash down the bourbon.

He goes, "So, what about the job? What did your Uncle Jo-Jo say about it." I swallow beer, then shrug, "Well, he offered you and me the same positions he had in mind for Ronny and me. It pays a hundred thousand a year each, and..." He grabs my arm; his mouth drops open, and his eyes open wide. He sputters, "No! Are you serious, a hundred thousand?"

Nodding, I go, "Yes, that's a firm offer, but it's complicated, Bruce." Without sugar-coating it, I tell him the details, adding, "And there's probably more to the job, which is what Jo-Jo will tell us about on the twentieth. That's if you want to have the meeting." He looks concerned, asking, "Well, don't you want to hear more about it?" I go, "Do you?" He makes a face like, Are you serious? Of course, I do! He goes, "Well, duh, yeah! Why in the hell wouldn't we? You said there would be a month indoctrination program to get us up to speed on what and how we'd do the job. After we hear that, that's the time to make a final decision, don't you think?" I smile, "Yes, I'm actually wicked psyched about it, but I didn't want to give my feelings away because that might have influenced yours."

He goes, "Well, I'm blown away with this opportunity. It sounds too good to be true, actually." Hmm, where did I hear that before? Oh yeah, in my head, that's where.

We only stay for one round of drinks, then, as we're walking out, Bruce says, "Would you mind if we skipped the beach this afternoon, Zach? I'm pumped up about this job, and, just for the hell of it, I'd like to take your ass to bed and give it a good fucking." Smirking and squeezing the back of my neck, he adds, "You've been a very good boy following up on this job situation."

Trying not to grin, I go, "But what about our mile swim?" He laughs, "Haha, giving you a choice between a swim and getting laid, getting laid will win out one-hundred percent of the time." I go, "Oh, I guess you're right about that," and we do a quick hug, an extemporaneous hug right here on the sidewalk. Walking again, Bruce says, "I might even use lube this time to reward your good job-hunting skills," and he puts his arm around the back of my neck, pulling my head over to kiss me. I go, "Oh, boy, lube! I'll be good," and we laugh as if that was funny.

I think we're both so excited about the job we don't know how to act. And, me personally, well, I'm still getting used to how Bruce will show uninhibited affection no matter where we are. Plus, I like naturally Bruce adopts the Alpha position for us. It's as if he's the larger, stronger, older one indulging a younger immature lover and enjoying his role. I don't think it even occurs to him that he always takes the lead. It's simply how our relationship developed, starting with the absurd pussy boy training with Bruce firmly in charge during those three weeks. Frankly, for me, it works.

The depth of my love for him is becoming a little scary, though. It's just that I can't imagine him doing anything that I wouldn't forgive, no matter how egregious. And I keep falling more and more in love with him as I experience the new ways he has for showing his love for me. Having never been in romantic love before, it's an amazingly fascinating and euphoric experience that borders the unbelievable. And, as I said, all Bruce's touching, rubbing my head or shoulder, putting his arms around me kissing me in public... all of that adds to the awesomeness of being lovers. Christ, I wouldn't be shocked if he took my hand and we walked down the street holding hands. Once he fell in love, the transformation was mind-blowingly fast, furious, and fantastic.

He's chatty during the ride to the apartment, talking about the exact thing I thought of earlier on the beach. He goes, "A couple of weeks ago, you described a perfect job where we'd travel the world together. It was your idea of a fantasy job, and now it could happen for real. We're so blessed it's crazy. And, how about Anne cutting short her plans for keeping the cafe open? That fits right in with the meeting your uncle wants to have with us on the twentieth?" Well, I gave Jo-Jo the date for the meeting, not the other way around, but there's no need to mention that. I'll let Bruce believe we're having more good luck together.

Bruce says, "Oh, God, I just thought of something crazy. I'll need to buy a suit and tie. We'll need to wear a suit to the meeting, right?" I shrug, "I didn't think of that. It's probably a good idea, though. Yeah, we probably should wear suits for the New York City meeting at the home office. I have suits, but none of them are with me." Hmm, yes, wearing a suit is a good idea. I'm glad he thought of that. What Bruce doesn't seem to grasp, however, is that I don't know any more about the business world than he does.

All business concerns leave my mind when we're in the apartment and Bruce says, "I wanna make love with you naked, Zach. Your body drives me crazy wild, heh-heh. Such a hard and macho body I can't believe you're mine, all mine. And how in the hell does a scrawny six-foot goofy-looking guy like me end up with a gorgeous hot stud like you? That's what I kept asking myself, and it's why it took me too long to accept that you and I were in a special relationship. I finally let myself feel it, believe it, and that's when I fell in love with you. The fact that you're in love with me still doesn't make any sense to me, but I believe it's real, and being in love is an amazing and glorious feeling, one that I don't ever want to let go of."

As we quickly undress, I go, "You are NOT scrawny or goofy-looking; you're the best thing that's ever happened to me; that's what you are." Both of us naked, he says, "Get over here, you," and I fall into his arms and let him kiss and hug me for a bit, then join in by kissing back. Our tongues slide slowly together as I float in the air with Bruce, inhaling his subtle scent, moaning softly in a state of bliss. He licks my lips, his hand behind my head holding my face against his as he murmurs, "I love you so much, Zach," and then another wet sloppy sexy kiss, our penises two rocks between our bellies.

Bruce continues kissing and rubbing my body as he takes tiny steps forward, me taking little steps backward until the back of my legs hits the side of the bed. I slowly fall onto the mattress with Bruce on my chest, our feet on the floor, our mouths still together. Bruce gets his hand in between us and drags some of my slippery precum down my hairless groin, then wipes it on my asshole, murmuring in my ear, "Sorry, but I can't wait any longer, babe." I pull my legs back, and the head of his rock-hard cock, drooling precum, touches my anus. Then, as I hold my breath, he humps it in, moaning, "Ummm, oooh." I grunt at the pain, and Bruce again murmurs, "Sorry, babe".

My arms are tight around him feeling Bruce is shaking a little as he's pushing his hard boner up inside me. Pain blooming in my head to join Bruce's scent that's swirling around in there, making it a friendly pain. A pain that feels so good. I love that he couldn't wait any longer to make love.

Fully impaling me, Bruce humps against my buttocks as he rubs the side of his face against mine. He's highly aroused, moaning again, "Ummm, Zach... oooh. Ummm." Even this horned-up rough-type sex becomes a form of lovers' sex, needy lovers' sex. He starts thrusting from need, from desire, from the love we share. The pain of his abrupt early entry fades away as now there's no room for pain in my mind. There's only room for the sexual pleasure Bruce and I are sharing.

Bruce's eagerness, his hot desire to share this sex with me, is everything I've dreamed of. The initial discomfort is a small price to pay for sex that's infinitely superior to our sex of just two weeks ago. Bruce gasps with each thrust, each one faster and harder than the one before it, sexual pleasure soaring inside me. Every trip Bruce's long hard boner takes up and then back is a thrill ride of emotion, my prostate in a state of euphoria, and my tight anus quivering in its tightness around the constantly moving seven inches of hard cock.

I'm pressing my lips to the side of his face, my legs going around his waist, and now we're a single pleasure-giving machine providing extreme sexual pleasure to a degree most can only fantasize about. Bruce's gasps have turned into little quiet whining sounds with each quick thrust joining the slapping sounds of his body smacking against my buttocks, all sounds becoming a blur of pleasure as my body subtly rocks back and forth on the bed with each "Slap' of his body against mine.

It's a hot frantic five minutes, and how I held off my climax this long is a miracle, and then when it blows, I squeal like a bitch in heat, "Eeeel, Bruce..." My cum shoots up my stomach to my neck. It would have shot straight up except our bodies are together and my boner, as hard as a steel rail, was between us. Bruce thrusts a few seconds longer, his chest and stomach sliding in my cum as he reaches climax. His body, stiff as a board, lifts off my chest, his face a mask of shock as though he can't believe what's about to happen. A gasp from Bruce as he humps once against my buttocks and then yells, "Yes!" and I feel his orgasm streak out to bang off the walls of my bowels, a thin line shooting out, feeling like a shot from a BB gun, then it's gooey, creamy, and slippery inside me.

Bruce's face softens as he shudders, then thrusts a few more times, his big boner sliding easily now, his eyes closed as he's moaning, "Mmmm, ooh, ooh, mmm," until, with a sigh, he collapses back down on me, and we kiss, rub noses while shivering in each other's arms. Our hearts pound together for thirty seconds until our breathing slows down, and our bodies finally relax, with both of us sighing, "Ahh, mmm."

We lie like this, my cum between us and his leaking from my ass. After a minute, Bruce lifts his head and says, "Was that a little bit too random and out of control, do you think?" I squint my eyes and say, "Hmm, let me think about that," and a second later, "No, it wasn't," and we both snicker as I take my legs from around his waist, and he lifts off me pulling his sex organ from my ass, both of us going, "Oooh," as we both shudder again.

Standing, Bruce holds his hand down and helps me stand as he says, "Ya know, I feel better now. How about you?" I go, "Yeah, I think I do too." Two gross understatements if I've ever heard one. He puts his arm around the back of my neck, and we walk into the bathroom with Bruce saying, "You're a sexy motherfucker, you know that?" I go, "Really?" He nods, "Yeah, well, that's a good thing, though. I like sexy motherfuckers."

I'm turning on the shower faucets, "Ya know what, Bruce?" He smacks my ass, saying, "Get in there," and as I get in the tub, he goes, "What?" I say, "I did like that random fuck. I thought it was scorching hot and sexy." He gets in the shower and wraps his arms around me, murmuring, "Well, for me, it was merely the hottest, most favorite sex I've ever had in my life, which is saying something since sex with you has been spectacular, and it keeps getting better. I love, love, love you, Zach." I go, "Me too; I meant, that's how I feel about you."

We grin at one another, then kiss and hug under the shower's flow of water. Finally, we separate to take turns slowly bathing each other, doing it with serious expressions until we both break out laughing, Bruce saying, "We need to get a grip, or we're going to embarrass ourselves in front of the boys."

I'm in dreamland after that sex. It was the first time I felt Bruce was more into our lovemaking than me, and I was deeply into it myself! It's a thrill being in love, and that's topped by being loved by Bruce. It's a whole new world that neither of us knew existed. Not just Bruce, I include myself in the revelation of emotions inherent in being in love. I'm pretty sure we're not unique, but it feels that we are, that we're special, but probably all lovers think that.

Dressed in shorts and T-shirts, we share a joint on the balcony talking about the job Jo-Jo has for us. Bruce goes, "It's hard for me to imagine your uncle telling us anything during our meeting that would put me off this opportunity. How about you?" Shrugging, I say, "As you said a while ago, it sounds too good to be true, and when you think more about it, there are unpleasant and stressful aspects to it. First of all, I'd need to be convinced we're qualified to determine what's sexual harassment and what's not. I mean, what we report to Jo-Jo will affect people's careers, peoples' lives. People may get fired. I'd feel terrible about that."

He says, "You trust your uncle, don't you?" I nod, "Well, yeah, but he isn't my uncle. I've always called him that, though." He goes, "Whatever, he'll make sure we know what we're doing, right?" I nod, "Sure," and he adds, "I'm not a frivolous person, Zach, so you can trust me to decide if we're prepared to do the job. I mean, after that month of indoctrination. What I'm saying is, I'd better be in charge of this adventure. We don't want to screw it up." See, he doesn't realize he just insulted me, um, even though he's right.

Ha, and he's talking me into keeping an open mind when I was worried I'd need to talk him into doing that. Bruce pats my shoulder and says, "Basically, you're too nice for this assignment. Leave the nasty parts to me. You'll be reluctant to report negative hardcore facts, which is what Jo-Jo is hiring us to do. I won't hesitate to do it, though, and too bad if someone loses their job. I'll be fair, but I'm not afraid to be hard too. Listen, we'll do the training conscientiously, and then I'll decide if we'll take it from there." Nodding, I murmur, "Okay, Bruce, sure."

As I said, he's right. I knew he'd need to be the boss just as Ronny would have been. I've developed the same hero-worship for Bruce that I had for Ronny, but there's a significant extra ingredient called love in my hero worship of Bruce. He grins at me, asking, "Okay, you'll leave it up to me, right?" I go, "Yes, I will," and I lean against him. He puts his arm around the back of my neck again, pulling me tightly against him, mumbling, "You be our muscle, and I'll do the rest." To be silly and to end our seriousness, I say, "Ya know what else I've been thinking? I want to have a hairstyle like yours." He snickers, "Of course, you do."

Snapping out of our mooning over each other, we finish the shower, get dressed, and share a Coke. After discussing it, we drive to a Brooks Brothers store on North Michigan Avenue in Atlantic City that's surprisingly open on Sunday. We figure, what the fuck, we'll get a conservative business suit for our meeting with Jo-Jo. And, if we need to wear suits for the job, we'll buy more later.

As I peruse the racks of suits here, I know there are much more expensive suits than these because I have some at home. The top of the line in this Brooks Brothers store is a $1298 Madison-Fit year-round wool suit on sale for $800. We get fitted for a charcoal pinstriped one for me and a pale gray one for Bruce. We buy white shirts, business-looking ties, and black leather belts, size 36 for me and 32 for Bruce. I put everything on my AMEX card with Bruce jotting down what he owes me in that tablet he carries around.

We'll come back for the altered suits next week. As we walk out of the store, I'm like, "Fuck, we need shoes too." Bruce goes, "Yeah, I guess, but if we don't take the job, we're gonna be stuck with all this shit." We chuckle at that as I Google for a shoe store. There's an upscale ZEGNA shoe store on First Street where we both buy a pair of shoes called Black Deerskin Loptoe-Derby shoes for $695 each, mine size 12 and Bruce's size 10. Then, to wear with the shoes, we buy pairs of over-the-calf black socks for twenty dollars a pair. Leaving the shop with our shoes and socks, Bruce writes in notepad, muttering, "Remind me never to go shopping with you again."

We find the boys playing a game on Cowboy's Xbox when we get back to the apartment. Cowboy goes, "There you are. What'd you buy?" Bruce mumbles, "You won't believe how much shoes cost," and he shows Cowboy and Lee his shoes. Cowboy goes, "Are you getting married, or going to a funeral?" I tell him about Jo-Jo's job offer, and he goes, "Travel the world, huh? That's just right for you, Zach, but what about our apartment here? Lee and I need to meet here on breaks from school." I go, "Take it easy; I'm planning to pay rent a year in advance on this place so we'll all have our clubhouse to meet in."

Lee says, "I knew you wouldn't let us down, Zach." Cowboy mutters, "I'll pay for my third of the year's rent," and I'm like, "Sure, whatever. Where have you guys been?" Lee says, "We went water skiing with my cousin." Cowboy nods, "Yeah, Lee's aunt was visiting his mom, and the cousin came with her. What an obnoxious fifteen-year-old he is. Jeesuz!" Lee goes, "Yeah, he is, but how could I say no to him with my mom and aunt right there?"

I'm like, "Well, you survived that, so what does everyone want for dinner?" Everyone wants something different, so we go out to eat at an overpriced restaurant in one of the casinos. I pick up the tab as Bruce juts down something in his little tablet. The boys go to the Steel Pier while Bruce and I try our hand at a five-dollar blackjack table, which is the only one Bruce would agree to play at. Betting five dollars a hand, he plays blackjack breaking all the guidelines for taking cards. He takes a hit when he should hold 'em and holds when he should take a card, and, naturally, he wins a hundred and fifty dollars. I play the game correctly and lose ninety bucks.

Disgusted, I'm like, "Let's get a drink." Bruce is giddy about winning the money, saying, "That was my first time gambling." I mumble, "Oh? I couldn't tell." I order us brandies before Bruce gets a chance to order us shots of Jim Beam, which this upscale bar wouldn't have anyway. When Bruce has run over each of his winning hands at the blackjack table, and how he remembers every one of them, I can't imagine, we talked about the clothes we bought today and the meeting we'll have with Jo-Jo on the twentieth of September. Things are wrapping up for the summer. In three days, it'll be Wednesday, September first. The boys leave for college the day after, before Labor Day.

We have a couple of drinks, then Bruce and I end up at the Steel Pier looking for the boys. It's already a little after ten o'clock, which is an hour past our usual bedtime. We don't get home until eleven but still have luscious lovers' sex before falling asleep. Waking Monday morning, I've got dried cum on me in various places, so I get up with Bruce and shower with him at five o'clock. Then it's a quiet ride to Atlantic City, Bruce sleeping through the entire trip. Idling in the car next to the ramp, Bruce smiles a sleepy smile, gives me a goodbye kiss, and then off he goes to be on his feet waiting on tables for the next eight hours. I drive to the apartment and go back to bed.

Waking again, this time at ten o'clock, I lie here thinking about the incredibly wonderful sex Bruce and I had yesterday... the past week, actually. Then I think how maturely Bruce is approaching our job opportunity. Jo-Jo hasn't met Bruce yet, but he'll be impressed by him, I'm sure. On the other hand, Jo-Jo has always had a much higher opinion of me than I deserve, and I think that's primarily because of my career in the Navy Seals. Not everyone can handle that, but he also must know I have no business experience. Perhaps he feels that will work to our advantage in the proposed endeavor, although I can't think how it would, but then, that's because I have no business experience, duh.

Anyway, I get out of bed feeling marvelous. Wearing only my underpants, I make a mug of coffee, then print out all the paperwork Jill House from the Philadelphia office emailed me about Paul's job. Using Jo-Jo as an intimidation factor hasn't made me popular in the human resources departments of either the New York or Philly offices, but I got what I wanted for Paul. He is my significant good deed for the month, so I need to follow through with it. In that regard, I text Paul that I'll be at his apartment this morning to explain where we're at with his job. He texts back, 'I'm nervously excited, Zach. See you soon.'

Glancing through the paperwork, I add additional handwritten instructions to emphasize that Paul must receive a comprehensive training program and that I'll need a weekly report on his progress during his first month. The reports will be sent to me in the care of the CEO's office in New York City, Jo-Jo's office. That'll keep them on their toes in Philly.

So, yes, I've handled this entire transaction more in a military manner than in a professional business manner, but, as mentioned frequently, I don't know squat about the business world. Jo-Jo will probably get a good chuckle out of how brash and rudely unprofessional I've been. A rude bull in a china shop, but fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.

Driving to Paul's apartment, I check myself out and happily find I'm not horny. Even if I were, it wouldn't be Paul I'd hire, and not Dickie either. Speaking of Dickie, I wonder what he's thinking? I mean, every morning for over two weeks, I've hired him, and now, just like that, I haven't hire him the last two days. Oh, and his key card won't work in the hotel room after eleven o'clock this morning. Maybe I should send him a text about that. Nah, he's probably found it out by now on his own.

Inside Paul's apartment, he gives me his undivided attention as I go over every detail in the paperwork. Then I help him fill out the application writing DNA, does not apply, in areas I don't want him filling in, such as, 'Your current employer' and 'Referrals from recent jobs' and so forth. I keep reminding him that he's already been hired. This is just after-thought paperwork to give the Human Resource people something to do. I also emphasize that he's to forget anything to do with the pussy boys. When forced to say what he's been doing since high school, he's to vaguely say he worked in his dad's deli. Total bullshit, of course, but it gives him something to say. And if he's pressed too much about his work history, he's to text me, and I'll put a stop to it.

Going over every point in the paperwork is tedious, but we stay at it for over an hour. He still owes Richard money which I promise to take care of, and he, Paul, can pay me back in six months or whenever. I'm also going to advance him two months' rent for an apartment close to the Philadelphia office. Paul asks three separate times why I'm doing this for him, and each time I tell him I've made him my good deed project for September. He gets emotional and thanks me profusely, which is tedious too, but I assure him I have more than enough money to help him, and helping him makes me feel good. And it does too, plus, as I said before, it eases my conscience for using these unfortunate pussy boys to relieve my horniness. Bruce will eliminate any need for my side sex once he's done working at the cafe. Morning sex will do it, which, presently, we're not about to try doing at five o'clock in the morning.

Anyway, Paul has the rest of the week to get used to the idea of a normal life starting next week. When I'm walking out of his poor excuse for an apartment, I take a deep breath, glad that's over. Sitting in the car, I email everything back to Jill House, telling her that I'll be with Paul during our meeting next Monday morning, Paul's first day at his new job.

It's a little past noon when I drive to the cafe for lunch. Bruce, looking tired, comes over to my table and says, "I'm happy at least one of us looks well-rested, babe." There's that term of endearment again, babe. Yep, I'm getting used to being called babe. It's sweet. I go, "Well, yeah, I went back to bed. How are you doing?" He goes, "I'm doing okay considering I only had five hours sleep?" and we chuckle. He adds, "Last night's fun and games were well worth the missing sleep."

We act goofily moony over each other; then I order a BLT and an iced tea. As I wait for that, I Google realtors in Philly, finding one who deals with apartment rentals. In ten minutes, using my AMEX card, I've secured a one-bedroom apartment for $1500 a month, paying for the first and last month's rent. I'll drive down with Paul next Sunday to get him settled in his apartment. The fifteen hundred a month rent will probably scare Paul, but he'll be okay. Let's see; he'll be making $800 a week, taking home probably $700. Hmm, he'll probably need a raise. Ah, in, let's say, three months or so. Hee-hee, Jill will be happy to see that he gets one, I'm sure.

I'm relieved to finally have thought of everything until I realize, oh fuck, he needs furniture too. Googling again, I arrange for basic furniture from a rental place to be delivered next Sunday when Paul and I will be at the apartment, and I pay for it a year in advance. He can buy permanent furniture during the year. Jeez, eight hundred a week doesn't go very far when you get right down to it. Still, after paying rent starting with the second month, Paul will still have over $400 a week spending money. He probably should advertise for a roommate to help with the expenses. I can't do everything for him.

As I'm eating lunch, I add up what this good deed is costing me. Hmm, fuck, I've spent almost $5000 getting this kid set up, not that I have any intentions of ever collecting any of it from Paul. And, looking at the expense another way, that's about what I've been spending for two weeks of pussy boys. Screw it, I barely know this kid, but I feel pretty fucking good about doing this for him. When donating to a charity, in most cases, you don't know who specifically it is you're helping. In this case, at least I slightly know Paul.

After lunch, on my way out of the cafe, Bruce gets his arm across my shoulder, hugging me, murmuring, "You're looking awfully sexy, babe." He's been doing lots of touching lately. Fine by me! I see Anne at the register smiling to herself, obviously seeing what's up between Bruce and me. She's cool with it, though. Outside, I light a cigarette and glance over at a super cute young guy sitting on a bench at the ocean side of the boardwalk. Hmm, I casually saunter over for a closer look, just doing some cute-guy-watching. We make fleeting eye contact, immediately looking away as guys will do.

Because of our eye contact, I walk a few yards down from where he's sitting, then lean on the railing, looking out at the ocean. A minute later I glance over at him again. He has short blond hair with sunglasses pushed on top of his head. His body is like Lee's and Dickie's, meaning he's slim and about five foot nine or so. Damn, ya know, after Bruce's hugs and a pat on my ass as I was leaving the cafe, and now seeing this sexy, cute, good-looking young guy, I'm feeling horny again. It'll be seven or eight hours before there is any chance of sex with Bruce because last night at dinner, we all agreed we'd all be on the beach till at least six o'clock. Our beach days are running out, so...

As I acknowledge these unfortunate facts, I glance over at the cute guy again and see a pretty girl handing the cute guy a soft-serve ice cream cone. Fuck!

Walking toward the ramp, I shrug because that kid being gay was a long shot anyway. Way back in 1948, Kinsey shocked the world by claiming 10% of males were gay. Omigod, no! Then, in 2002 a study asked individuals what they thought the gay population was, and most thought that 21% of males were gay. The truth probably lies somewhere between those two percentages, so it's a long shot that some random guy you see will be gay. That's unless you're in a gay club, haha.

But, damn, the question for me is, am I going to need to hire a pussy boy today? Paul offered a freebie, which I politely declined. Not wanting to hurt his feelings I explained how I've no longer a need to hire sex because I have a boyfriend now. He appeared doubtful about that lame explanation considering only yesterday I hired him, but he was too polite to press the point. He's also very excited about his new job, as well as being as nervous as a cat in a rocking chair factory, so he has more on his mind than my boyfriend situation.

I'd better get my horniness under control, though. Then I spot Markie's boyfriend, Jameson, walking towards me, eating a hotdog. Hmm, Markie is with his folks visiting his grandparents, so maybe, hmm. Looking at clueless Jameson, I have to grin because he has the same butchered haircut Markie has. Those two are cute together. Regaining my senses, I stay close to the stores until he's passed me, then I continue on my way to the ramp and off the boardwalk. Jesus, I must be horny if I gave a thought about approaching Jameson. That would have been wrong in so many ways; it's sick.

Rubbing my face, I can still feel Bruce's hands on me, and I'm still seeing that cute blond-headed kid in my head. Well, fuck it, I need to see Richard anyway so I can pay off what Paul owes him. I go back up the ramp and walk along the beachside railing past the cafe to the locker rooms. When I brazenly walk into Richard's office, he looks up from his desk and asks, "What the hell do you have against using the 'effing telephone?" I sit in one of the armchairs in front of his desk and say, "Then I wouldn't get to see you, would I?" He sighs, then asks, "Whaddaya want?" I'm like, "Two things. One, I need to inform you that Paul is quitting the pussy boy game. I helped him get another job. I felt bad for him, ya know? Um, I'm also loaning him the money to pay you off."

He shakes his head, muttering, "You are a ginormous pain in the ass," then he taps out a text message on his cell phone, I assume to Paul. Waiting patiently, I tap my fingers on his arm of the chair while looking around at this immaculate office, wondering what it is with neatness and pussy boys? Then I stare at Richard, who is so good-looking, so sexy hot it makes my dick move in my swimsuit. Jokingly, I go, "Any chance of getting a date with you, Richard?" He just gives me a look, then looks back at his phone and says, "Okay, yep, he quit. No big loss; I made a mistake accepting him from the Delaware guy in the first place. Ah, Paul owes me four hundred dollars."

I throw four one-hundred-dollar bills on the desk, "Now he's even. Um, and the second thing is, I need a date." He puts the four bills in his desk drawer, mumbling, "Just how fucking rich are you anyway?" I shrug, "Not rich, but I've got a trust fund thingie helping me out. How about that date?" He taps on his laptop, then mumbles, "Dickie could accommodate you at four o'clock." Shaking my head, I go, "What else do you have? Something, um, immediate." he says, "Why don't you go down to the circle and pick up a street pussy boy. There are two working the bowling alley circle right now. That way, you don't need to pay the, um, massage fee."

I go, "I'd rather have you set one of those pussy boys up for me. I don't feel like hunting for one of them." Shrugging, he mutters, "Well, you are a loyal client, as well as being a pain in the ass, so I guess I can do that for you," and he sends a text, telling me, "I'll set you up with George, but it'll probably be sex in the back seat of your car, and I don't want to hear anything about that. That's between you and him. I have nothing to do with that disgusting behavior." I mutter, "Uh-huh."

We sit here, not talking for a minute, waiting for him to get a text back. Looking up at me, he goes, "Okay, George will meet you at the circle. Give me a hundred for my trouble." As I get another hundred out of my pocket, I ask, "How will I recognize him?" He goes, "He's your size, and he's wearing the uniform, plus the haircut. You'd need to be a moron not to find him." Nodding, I get up, mutter, "Thanks," and, as Richard texts facts about me to George, I walk out. Shit, George is my size! Yeah, I saw him once, a big husky guy who appears to be at least twenty-five years old. Not ideal, to say the least.

Well, I only want a generic fuck, minus any of the 'S' type horseshit. This guy, George, he's like my bar pick-up guys, except now I'm the bottom boy. As soon as I drive to the circle I immediately spot George. He's pacing back and forth in the bowling alley's parking lot while talking to an older man with lots of white hair sitting in an idling pickup truck. I've got the top down on the BMW, and when I pull over next to George, he says, "You're Zach, right?"

Giving a glance at the white-haired older guy, who's staring at me, I look back at George, "Yeah, I'm Zach, and you're George." He says, "I know I'm George, um, here's the thing, and I just texted Richard this." He nods at the white hair man, "Um, my regular Monday twelve-thirty client just pulled in, so I need to do him first." Incongruously, he then smiles at me, showing small teeth and lots of upper gum, more gum than teeth, then adds, "A hot dude like you, I'll be happy to provide you whatever you need in forty-five minutes or so. Get a beer or something in the bowling alley."

Not only was that the weirdest, least attractive smile I've ever seen in my life, giving me the creeps, but his voice is so high pitched and shrill it has my eardrums vibrating unnaturally. Ya just don't expect a big husky guy like George to have a screechy high-pitched voice.

As I mull this unappealing offer over, out of the corner of my eyes, I see someone I met here about five weeks ago. Not a pussy boy, but a street prostitute with a dwarf for a pimp. I go, "George, I'm sure you'd be worth the wait, but my lunch hour would be up by then. I'll try you next time." I quickly look away, but not fast enough to avoid seeing that grotesque smile again. He says, "Sure, next time. Um, but try me earlier. I usually have midday regulars. I'll fit you in if you get here early enough." Sarcastically, I mutter, "That's nice of you, George." George frowns, not sure if I'm mocking him. The older man in the pickup says, "Let's go, honey," and George gets in the man's pickup. George waves at me as I look away, avoiding that so-called smile of his. it looks more like a grimace of severe pain than a smile.

Turning off the engine, I try to remember this other guy's name. Weeks ago, I was at the counter in the bowling alley, and this guy thought I was someone named Bobby who had set up a date with him through someone named Ralph. Ralph turned out to be a four-by-four-foot dwarf. Four feet tall and four feet around. Nasty fellow, but the young guy was interesting.

Going inside, I immediately see the young guy in the restaurant section. He's sitting at the counter ordering lunch, and now I remember his name; it's Luke. Hmm, there's something different about him, though. I go over and sit on the stool next to him. "Hey, Luke, wassup?" He looks at his cell phone, then says, "Huh. I don't see a hook up from Ralph, so what's up with you?"

Hmm, like the cute blond guy on the boardwalk, Luke is also five-foot-nine or so, slim with girlie-good looks that are almost pretty; yep, and like the last time I saw him, he's wearing subtle eye makeup. And now I know what's different about him; he had a ponytail before, and now his hair is a preppy haircut like Bruce's. I go, "You got a haircut, huh?" He looks at me, then points his finger and grins, saying, "Oh, okay, yeah, I remember you and your macho good looks." I nod, "You thought I was Bobby." He laughs, "Oh fuck, yeah, and I wish the hell you had been Bobby 'cause he was not cool at all," I go, "He was a bit shy as I recall." Luke mutters, "Try retarded." I go, "Bad word." He's like, "Yeah, I guess."

The waitress puts a grilled cheese sandwich in front of him along with a draft beer and a check. He gestures at the plate, asking me, "Do you want half?" I go, "Sure," and pick up a triangle-cut half. He picks up the other half and says, "Ralph's probably still sleeping somewhere. He and I have, ah, a loose association of convenience. He comes around here sometimes. I can give you his number if you want to arrange something." Swallowing some grilled cheese, I go, "C'mon, Luke, you and I can work out something. We'll let Ralph get his beauty sleep."

He snickers, muttering, "Yeah, okay." Then, chewing part of his half sandwich, he stares into my eyes, smirking. Wow, he has beautiful blueish/green, large eyes highlighted by the subtle use of eyeliner. I look back at him, and he says, "So today's your day for a roll in the hay." Frowning, I mutter, "Huh?" He swallows some grilled cheese sandwich and says, "Well, sure, we'll work something out. In the meantime, how about if you order us another grilled cheese." He finishes the half sandwich, then picks up his draft beer, drinks some, and holds the glass out to me, "Want some?" What could be better than grilled cheese and beer? I take the glass and drink some beer, as he adds, "And you might want to order us another draft beer too."

Okay, he's slightly odd but sexy-pretty. I order a grilled cheese and a draft beer; then we finish his beer taking turns. Wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, he asks me, "Whaddaya got in mind? Top or bottom?" I go, "I think it would be fun to suck your dick, after which maybe you could fuck my brains out." He nods, "Gee, uh-huh, I can do that for you. Um, you got a room?" Shaking my head, I ask, "Do you?" He nods, "Uh-huh, I got a place. Here's the deal, I'll do suck and fuck with you in your car for one-twenty-five. In the room, it's two hundred." Jeez, he's more expensive than pussy boys.

A plate with our second grilled cheese plops down before me, then the draft beer, then a bill for eight dollars, plop, plop, plop. The waitress mutters, "Enjoy, hon," and walks away. Luke picks up a triangle half and says, "What's it gonna be?" I say, "Um, is Ralph in the room?" He laughs, "Fuck, no! Haha, he'd be bitching that I didn't insist you go through him. Once in a while, I'll insist that a guy, one I'm not especially interested in, arrange the date through Ralph, but not you. You're a hunk and a bottom, so I don't want to take a chance you'll walk away." Nodding, I chew some grilled cheese watching Luke eat; he eats with his mouth open. Not that I care.

He is one blase prostitute; I'll give him that. I like this kid, and if he has the equipment, he could be my new go-to guy. To hell with Dickie, and George isn't even a long-shot possibility. Luke and I finish our lunch, my second one of the day, then Luke takes both checks, puts a twenty-dollar bill on top of the checks, and asks, "Ready, um, what's your name?" I tell him, and he says, "Ready to go, Zach?" I say, "After you, Luke."

Outside, he points at my car, "I'm guessing this hot BMW is yours." Nodding, I go, "Yep, hop in and tell me where the room is." He tells me the street. It's two blocks over, and when we're there, he points at a single home, mumbling, "The white house. They've converted it into three apartments. A friend and I rent the smallest of the three." I'm fascinated by this cocky, casual pretty boy. As we walk up to the front door, I ask, "What do you charge for a make-out?" He mutters, "Sorry, dude, I don't do make-outs."

Inside he uses a key to let us in a one-room apartment similar to Paul's, except in here furniture-wise, there's only a bed and one chair, and nothing else. Luke wastes no time dropping his baggy shorts that bunch around his ankles. He isn't wearing underpants. His dick is on the skinny side, and less than five inches long, and his small set of balls is surrounded by brown crinkly pubic hair. He says, "If you suck a load out of me, it'll be a half-hour after that before I can fuck you. We can get a beer at that roach-infected bar across the street while I'm reloading." Huh, I guess he isn't going to take off his sneakers or shorts.

Maybe Luke won't be my go-to guy after all. He asks, "What are you waiting for? Is something wrong?" Shrugging, I mutter, "No, we're good," and drop to my knees. Picking up his dick, I lick the little fellow's pointy head, immediately noticing Luke needs a shower, plus there's crusted cum remnants on the head of his dick from an earlier client. Still, I like sucking cock, so I get to it and soon lose myself in the process, even enjoying his musky scent. His hands are lightly on my head as his dick firms up without getting much bigger. I bob up and down on it getting it rock-hard, then push it against his belly and lick his balls, then suck on one of his nuts, finally getting a grunt out of Luke.

I've been spoiled sucking pussy boys' dicks without the impediment of pubic hairs, and already at least two of Luke's are now in my mouth. Even so, I'm deeply into licking and sucking all around his cock and balls and the inside of his skinny thighs. My cock is now hard and throbbing. Too soon, Luke grunts, "You better get it back in your mouth if you want to taste cum because I'm about to blow my wad."

Pulling his boner down, I get it in my mouth and bob up and down on it. Luke groans and then humps his hips, pushing the head of his cock into my throat. I deep throat him only four times, before he gasps and goes, "Ahhh," climaxing in my mouth, then my throat when he humps his boner down my throat again, his orgasm continuing to blast out. Wow, a lot of cum from his smallish nuts. He's backing up, pulling his cock from my mouth, mumbling, "Nice, that felt good. My second load of the day."

It's surprising how hot and sexy that turned out to be. Damn, I almost blew a load in my swim trunks. Unlike pussy boys, Luke doesn't apparently care that I never got undressed. I push my boner to the side as I stand so my hard cock isn't poking out the front of my swimsuit. Luke's not paying any attention to me, though. He's washing his hands at the sink, and I'm trying to fish two pubic hairs from my mouth.

Then, pulling up his shorts, Luke says, "Dude, you really get into cock sucking, doncha?" Nodding, I go, "Yeah, I do. I especially enjoyed sucking your, um, cock." He accepts that remark with a nod of his head, mumbling, "Happy to oblige." Hmm, you know what always baffles me? It's that guys with smallish penises don't feel the need to mention it. I mean, especially prostitutes who I assume would be conscious of having undersized equipment, but they don't appear to think that way. He pats my shoulder, "C'mon, Zach, let's get that beer."

Luke brought us lunch, so I paid for the beers. As he mentioned, this bar is a bit of a dive and we ignore the smudged glasses and drink the beers from the bottles. Luke is an energetic fellow with an entertaining line of bullshit. He likes to rhyme words too, nonsensical groups of words that rhyme. I can't tell if he thinks he's making sense or not. When he's not rhyming words, he tells me he's been in this line of work for almost three years. He met Ralph at the bowling alley a year ago and felt sorry for him, so he lets Ralph think he's a hot-shot pimp. Luke goes, "It doesn't take any money out of my pocket to let him pimp for me, and he does hustle up some dudes occasionally, although I get most of them myself. Ralph charges guys fifty bucks when he can come up with one. It means nothing more to me than taking a pee." Another rhyme, but this one kinda makes sense.

I'm like, "Speaking of money," and I slide two one-hundred-dollar bills to him on the bar. He goes, "I knew you were good for it." Oddly, he didn't insist on the money upfront. Then I find out he lives with his lover, a forty-year-old stockbroker who is aware of what Luke does during the day and doesn't care. Huh, I guess Luke doesn't really need the money; he likes doing this.

He tells me he doesn't know where Ralph lives, and only sees him rarely. He communicates primarily via text messages and only when Ralph texts him. That time I saw him with Ralph in the parking lot was the last time Luke's seen him. Luke has a buddy named, Snitch, who prostitutes with him sometimes, but not usually this early in the day. Yeah, I remember meeting Snitch.

Anyway, we each have two beers, and it's an enjoyable forty-five minutes before Luke asks, "Are you ready to get fucked, or do you want another beer?" He acts like he doesn't care if we do it or not. Well, yeah, haha, he got paid so why would he care? The other thing is, there's no dominance happening here, none whatsoever, not that I want any. I'm weaning myself off the sub/dom stuff, and it's going good too.

I nod at the door, and we get up with Luke muttering, "First, I gotta take a wicked piss." I go with him because I need to piss too. Yeah, beer gives you a beer buzz, and then it leaves shortly thereafter. Luke washes up after pissing, then, back in the one-room apartment, he takes a condom from his pocket, drops his baggy shorts to his ankles, and says, "Give my dick a quick suck, and then how do you want it. Um, you said hard, right?"

It's slightly disconcerting that he doesn't take his clothes off, but then, I've become used to pussy boys insisting on both of us being naked. I mutter, "Yeah, give me all you got, Luke." He nods as I step out of my sandals and take my swimsuit off. Making conversation, he asks, "Going to the beach after this, huh?" I nod, and he points at my groin, asking, "What's with the hairless pubes rig, thingamajig?" I go, "It's complicated," and he shrugs, mumbling, "Whatever." Yeah, we're simply two guys conversing; nothing to see here.

On my knees, I pick up his dick, and you know what? I was too critical of it earlier. Luke's dick size goes well with his body size. Almost five inches and, it's a bit skinny, yeah, but not ridiculously so. After licking the urine droplet off the head, I suck his dick for maybe a minute while also stroking the shaft with my thumb and forefinger gets a good hard boner on him. He does a little beer burp, then says, "What's your preference? Doggy style, standing, lying, or something else except dying?" Shrugging, I go, "Huh? Oh, um, any way you like." He rolls on the condom, mumbling, "All fours then."

I drop my hands to the floor, and he humps his hard cock in past my sphincter muscle. That hurt a little, so I go, "Ugh," and he pushes his cock in the whole five inches. It feels good. He goes, "Ahh, yeah, nice ass," grabs my hips and pounds that hard cock back and forth with slapping sounds from the first thrust. Goddamn, that's actually a nice size boner for a recreational fuck. It's big enough to activate every nerve ending in my rectum and anus without causing any discomfort worth mentioning; just that first thrust that opened me up.

After four or five minutes of this enjoyable anal sex, I drop my forehead onto the back of my hands, keeping my ass up for Luke, and continue enjoying the hell out of this. Tantalizing sensations are pouring casually off my prostate, plus an enticing itchy feeling all around my asshole. He's got good stamina and keeps up the fast hard thrusting for over ten minutes. My climax hovers around the tipping point for a while, quite an enticing long while with me expecting it to blow any second. Then it does, and it's a good one too. Lifting on my hands, I let out a gasping, "Ahh, oooh!" as my hips hump forward, and cum sizzles out from my throbbing rock of a cock. It's a tight stream of creamy cum that flies past my chin, then another one-foot shot follow-up streak of cum leaves me shuddering, and breathing deeply.

Without climaxing, Luke pulls his cock out and pats my ass, saying, "Jeez, nice cum shot, dude." I stay on all fours shivering at the after-effects of that surprisingly good orgasm. Pulling his shorts up, he goes into the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush and the faucet turning on, so Luke's rewashing his hands. I'm sitting back on my heels when he comes out of the bathroom carrying a wet paper towel. He drops the wet towel on the tile floor, then moves it with his foot wiping up my streak of cum, asking, "Was that okay for you, dude?" Nodding, I mumble, "Yeah, um, yes, it was great. Thanks." He picks up the wet, cum saturated paper towel using a dry towel, then drops both in a trash can.

Looking at me, he goes, "Um, do you wanna get your swimsuit on now? I've got this other dude who's due this afternoon, and thank God he's another bottom like you. Except for today, I've been on an unfortunate run of tops. Jesus, they've been fucking me a new asshole, haha. I'm not complaining, but bottom guys, I appreciate more, that's all." I get my swim trunks on, then step into my sandals as he asks, "Can you give me a ride back?" I nod, "Sure."

Huh, no nagging, he didn't even mention anything about a tip. I hold out a fifty-dollar bill, and he asks, "What's that for?" I go, "It's a tip, dummy. I enjoyed your fucking." He goes, "You're a rare one, alright," and he takes the fifty.

In the car, he says, "Ya know, if world peace ever breaks out, we'll all be eating take-out." I'm like, "Ah, uh-huh." It's only a four-minute car ride until we're back at the bowling alley. Idling in the car, I ask, "How about tomorrow?" He says, "If you show up, you'll be my next fuck. You and me and a cup of tea." I mutter, "Ah, um, yeah, okay," and he gets out, saying, "Thanks, dude," and then takes his time sauntering into the bowling alley.

Well, Goddamn, that was okay. It was a simple but enjoyable generic fuck. No, not especially memorable, but okay and pretty much exactly what I had in mind. That orgasm was pretty good and it will keep me calm and free of horniness. Well, until Bruce shows up at three-thirty anyway. He makes me horny, the best kind of horny. We're gonna be on the beach the rest of the afternoon, so no sex until six or seven o'clock tonight. I'm good, though, thanks to pretty-boy, Luke. Too bad he doesn't make out.

After driving directly to the beach, I rented a beach chair but not an umbrella because I knew the boys will have rented one earlier. Cowboy and Lee are precisely where I expected they'd be. We go to the same spot on the beach every day. It's like at school, even without assigned seats, you still go to the same seat every day, and you get pissed off if some dope is sitting in 'your' seat.'

Cowboy sees me, "Yo, Zach, where you been, boy?" He and Lee are sitting as they always do, with the arms of their chairs touching. Cowboy holds his hand out, and I slap hands with him, then rub Lee's head as he smiles at me, saying, "We thought you'd be here before us." Setting my chair a foot from to Lee's, I mumble, "I had some business to attend to." Cowboy, ever the nosey one, ask, "What kind of business?" I'm like, "Oh, it's something Uncle Jo-Jo and I are doing. We're helping some guy get a job and, um, whatever." He goes, "I'm so sure that's all there is to it. Hey, how's Jo-Jo doing these days?"

I bullshit about that for a while, then ask, "Are you guys ready for college?" Lee goes, "I am, but Cowboy still needs to get his shit together." Cowboy says, "Tomorrow we're going to box up all my stuff and send it to Yale via UPS." I nod, sarcastically mumbling, "Good that you didn't leave it to the last minute." He chuckles, "Lee's been nagging me to do it, but there isn't any need to rush into these things."

Lee hits Cowboy's shoulder, "I wasn't nagging you!" Cowboy gets Lee in a headlock, then kisses the top of his head. I roll my eyes, asking, "Do you want me to drive you to Yale, Cowboy?" He goes, "Huh? Well, yeah, I thought you'd want to." I go, "I do want to, and I will. How about you, Lee? Will you need a ride to the airport or anything?" He shakes his head, "Nah, my parents are making a drama out of seeing me off at the airport. Mom and Dad, plus my Aunt and Uncle and obnoxious cousin, are all driving me to Philly International to see me off. It's embarrassing." I mutter, "Jeez, that's, um, awkward, alright. So when will classes start?" We talk about that, and I detect nervousness in both of them even as they're both trying for blase and failing at it.

They have lunch on the boardwalk while I do my mile swim, the lifeguard finally not bothering to blow his whistle at me. It took him long enough to catch on that I'm in no danger. Later the guys and I fuck around body surfing, then I get restless and take a long walk on the beach thinking about Bruce and me. Sometimes I just shake my head, hardly believing that everything is turning out this unbelievably good!

This is a kind of happiness I'm unfamiliar with, one I didn't realize was possible. And, I'm not taking for granted that being free of horniness makes everything better. In that regard, I'll be looking up Luke again tomorrow. I don't need Richard and his bossy pussy boys anymore. No, that's not fair, I have a good feeling for the pussy boys who have done well by me, but Luke was okay too, and he's less trouble.

At three-thirty, Bruce walks up behind us and does his usual. He hugs me from behind and kisses me, our lips lingering an extra second. Cowboy mutters, "Get a room," and Lee jokingly says, "Where's my kiss, Bruce?" Bruce, who is now totally uninhibited, kisses all three of us, me for the second time. His smiling face radiantly reflecting the kind of happiness I was thinking about during my walk. When the boys are swimming, Bruce and I talk about a send-off dinner Wednesday night for them. Bruce naturally wants to have it at 'our' spot, meaning the Italian restaurant in Atlantic City. He goes, "You set it up, Zach. Damn, I can't believe they'll be gone in two days!"

Later, the guys are into their favorite subject, Cowboy saying to Lee, "So, yeah, I agree with you that the Multiverse Theory makes the most sense. With hundreds of billions of galaxies spanning billions and billions of light-years, our universe is just one of innumerable galaxies, an infinity of galaxies. Each one with its own physics, nothing like ours." Lee chuckles saying, "So you reject the Last Thursday Theory, then?" Cowboy goes, "Um, yes, of course. The literal interpretation of Genisis indicating that the universe is only six thousand years old, but made to appear billions of years old, seems, um, unlikely. Why would a God go through all that trouble? Or, if you believe he or she did go to all that trouble, why not say, using the same logic, the Universe was created last Thursday, not 6000 years ago?"

Bruce and I roll our eyes at each other, but we're smiling too because, while tedious at times, we're going to miss hearing this kind of thing from the boys. I lean over and quietly say to Bruce, "I wonder what percentage of all they say is accurate?" He shrugs, "I have no idea, but I like listening to them." Lee looks over, asking, "What are you two whispering about?" I go, "Nothing, but let me ask you this. If the Hubble telescope has seen back in time to just after the big bang thirteen-some billions of years ago, why do you say we can only see a tiny part of the Universe?"

Lee looks at Cowboy, then back at me, asking, "Is that even a serious question?" Bruce chirps in with, "Yes, it is. You said a few days ago that 97% on the Universe is undetectable." Cowboy and Lee look at each other again, then Cowboy says, "If you're serious, I mean, the answer is obvious. Hubble saw back 13.8 billion years ago. That's how long the picture took to get here traveling at the speed of light, but the Universe has been expanding for all of those 13.8 billion years, and the light from the expansion hasn't arrived yet, and it never will reach us."

Both Bruce and I go, "Oh," and leave it at that. Lee mutters, "New space is constantly being created, created at dizzying speed, and the speed is accelerating." Bruce nods, "Ah, sure. Um," and he stands, adding, "Um, well, Zach and I are going for a walk now." Cowboy asks, "What is energy? Have you ever asked yourself that? And where did it come from?" Lee adds, "And, can nothing create something?" Bruce and I get up as I mutter, "When you find out, get back to us, okay?" Lee snickers and goes, "If a God is responsible for creating energy and everything else, where did God come from? Who created him, or her?" Bruce and I chuckle as we pretend to run away from any more questions like that.

As we walk away, Bruce puts his arm around the back of my neck; he chuckles, hugging me against his side, saying, "They can be annoying with that shit, but it's fun too." I say, "I'm betting that only like 80% of what they say is accurate. Maybe they'll learn the other 20% at college." Bruce leaves his arm around my neck, our sides rubbing together as we walk. He asks, "I was trying to think what you and I have in common that's similar to what the boys have with their interest in the Universe?" I go, "Huh, I don't know. Mostly my interest revolves around you." He says, "Well, yeah, me too, but we are going to have a strong mutual interest in the near future; our job when we start it. We'll be talking about that as much as the boys talk about the universe." I'm like, "Oh, yeah, I guess." He grins, "Yeah, we'll be talking about who we want to get fired next." I chuckle, "Oh, no, not that!"

I can't even describe how wonderful it is to be with Bruce like this, intimately affectionate and totally into each other as if the world around us is mere stage dressing to our starring roles in each other's life. Even when we're not talking, we're as relaxed, comfortable, and as contented as anybody could be. Bruce either has his arm around the back of my neck or my waist, announcing to anyone who cares that, yes, we're gay lovers. His possessiveness gives me the sense I'm his, I belong to him, and it's better than any fantasy I could come up with.

We all leave the beach at six-thirty, everyone in a good mood, the guys even agreeing to put Lee's motorbike in the big trunk of my BMW, not that the whole thing fits, but we make it work. The boys sit in the backseat, Lee's arm across Cowboys shoulders, and, with the top-down and the radio cranked up, it's a delightful ride to the apartment. I'm not sure what the boys do, but, as soon as we get back Bruce and I have hot sex in our bedroom, both of us smelling like the beach. My climax is so special Bruce needs to hold me tightly until I stop shaking. Omigod, what a wonderful life!

After showering, we have a beer on the balcony, the boys still in their bedroom. Bruce asks what I've been doing during the day, adding, "Um, other than that," meaning my interaction with pussy boys. I want to share everything with Bruce, so I tell him how bad I felt for Paul. Of course, Bruce doesn't know Paul, so I fill him in about how ill-suited Paul is for the line of work he's on and how with Jo-Jo's help, I've set him up with a job in Philly at one of my father's companies. I tell Bruce I'll be driving Paul to Philly Sunday to get the keys for his apartment, then Monday, I'll be there for his interview before his first day at work.

Bruce is blown away that I'm going through all this trouble and money for someone I barely know. He complimented me on being the nicest person he's ever known or heard of. Grinning, I say, "Oh, you've never heard of Mother Teresa or Gandhi, or..." He puts his fingers on my lips, mumbling, "Okay, so there are a few other nice people, but your my nicest person here and now." I go, "And you're my most important person, Bruce." He grins, "Not the nicest, though, huh? We can't both be nice. I've gotta be the bad guy to make sure you're not taken advantage of."

That night Cowboy and Lee prepare dinner as Bruce and I moon over each other while drinking a couple of beers, then we get to bed at our usual time. Bruce leads me through our most romantic lovemaking yet. Tender, gentle lovemaking with murmured overtures of unconditional love. During our making out and lovemaking Bruce treats me as if I'm fragile and he needs to take care of me, so I don't break. It's new and unexpected, this romantic love from Bruce, but I adore being treated this special, marveling that all this romanticism was bottled up in Bruce, and now it's gushing out onto our love affair. Afterward, we sleep in each other's arms.

Tuesday morning, Bruce has a few smiles for me, but mostly he's in his conscientious mood of getting to work on time, which we always manage to do. In Atlantic City, I get a goodbye kiss. Then, "I love ya, babe. Seriously, Zach, I love that you're taking care of that kid too. That's two pussy boys you've saved." I can't think of anything to say to that wouldn't sound self-serving, so I'm like, "Bye, Bruce. See you on the beach. I love you."

Wow, my heart is pounding as I watch Bruce jogging up the ramp. In a little over two weeks, he'll be done with the cafe job and then he'll be mine all day, every day and night. I'm taking no chances of changing anything until then, so I'll look up Luke later today. Back at the apartment, feeling energetic, I clean up the place, change the sheets on both beds, run the vacuum, do a wash load, then have a mug of coffee and smoke a cigarette on the balcony.

At nine-thirty, I send a text to Jo-Jo bringing him up to date about Paul's job, then send a text to Paul confirming I'll pick him up at ten o'clock Sunday to get keys for his apartment. Next, I call the Italian restaurant to make a reservation for six people Wednesday night at seven o'clock. Six because I thought it'd be nice to invite Lee's parents. Hmm, then I call the furniture rental place to confirm the furniture delivery on Sunday. I can't think of anything else I can do for him, so Paul will soon be on he's on his own in his new life.

The last thing I need to do is call the rental office and arrange to pay a year in advance for this apartment. Cowboy said he'd pay a third of the rent, although I couldn't care less if he does or doesn't. Haha, I'm sure Bruce will be jotting something in that little tablet he carries around. Considering my two-hundred-thousand a year trust fund, plus a hundred thousand a year salary, come on, what do I care about a year's rent on this place? Plus, all Bruce's and my living expenses will be paid by the corporation for a year at least, so I gotta do something with all the money that will be coming in every year.

I'm driving back to Atlantic City at quarter to twelve with my ass feeling itchily horny. I don't know why I criticized the size of Luke's dick as it's perfect for my purpose. I no longer need over the moon wild sex, just a comfortable, enjoyable fuck, and an okay climax. When Bruce is finished with that cafe job, he'll be taking care of me with morning sex, or whatever amount of sex he wants us to have together. He's been hungry for our sex lately, though, so I'm pretty sure he'd like more of it. Not at five o'clock in the morning, though.

When I get to the circle, Luke isn't outside, and he isn't inside the bowling alley either. Well, I haven't eaten anything today, so I sit at the counter, and the waitress asks, "What can I get you, hon?" I order a cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke. Luke shows up as my lunch is being served. He pats my back, asking, "Are we doing business today, Zach?" I go, "I hope so, Luke." He sits on the stool next to me, takes a French fry and chews it with his mouth open, then says, "Um, are we sharing lunch?" He has the most delicate facial features on his pretty face, so I stare at him for a second, then go, "Sure," and he takes a big bite from the cheeseburger, then passes it to me as I ask, "Are you sure you don't make out?"

Grinning, he swallows, and says, "Well, I make out with Tony, my lover, but I promised him I'd never do that with my dudes. Sorry, but that's the part I save for Tony." We share the cheeseburger, fries, and Coke, then he orders the same, and we share that as well. Yeah, it's crazy, but I like how unique he is and, since he chews with his mouth open, I can see his super-white perfect teeth and clean-looking bubblegum pink gums and tongue. Plus, he's constantly washing his hands, so he's clean. Haha, yeah, even so, it's still a crazy way to eat.

We have a repeat of yesterday's date at his rented one-room apartment. First, it's oral sex that I enjoy even more today, then a couple of beers at the roach bar, then a satisfying fuck that lasts ten or twelve minutes. I drive him back to the bowling alley feeling great. Luke gets out, "Same time tomorrow, Zach?" I go, "Absolutely, Luke. See ya," and that's that.

Smiling all the way, I drive to the beach, rent an umbrella and a beach chair from Sam, who I tip five bucks for digging the umbrella in the sand. Then, sitting on my beach chair under the umbrella, I sigh contentedly looking out at the vast Atlantic as happy and contented as can be. The boys won't be at the beach today because they're getting Cowboy's stuff, including his TV and Xbox shipped to Yale. I may as well get used to being on the beach alone as the boys will soon be partying at college.

Hmm, I don't need to be a parasite beach bum, though. I Google to find a gym in the city that I can work out at. Yes, I'll get back in shape over the next two weeks. The swimming helps, but I need to work out and do my four-mile run again too. The gym and running, plus a mile swim is a better use of my time. I find a gym that'll do and then feel good about taking the initiative to go in this direction.

What else should I do? I can't think of anything else so I think back over this best summer of my life. It's been a bumpy road at times, but everything has turned out as close to perfect as anything could be. Nothing is perfect-perfect, but this is close.

The not-perfect part is being on the beach for the next couple of weeks without my boys keeping me entertained. Sure, working out and running to get in shape will take care of half that time, plus a daily visit with Luke will keep everything pretty much balanced, but I'm going to miss watching Cowboy's and Lee's youthfulness and listening to them interact, seeing them in their puppy love affair. How long that lasts remains to be seen, but I'll miss them both. Oh, here's something else. I'm going to ask Jo-Jo foe a few breaks during the year to come back here when the boys have their breaks from college. I don't see how that will be a problem, plus he's never said no to me yet.

Most of what happened this summer would NOT have been possible without my trust fund, so I'm beyond grateful for it and I do try to share my good fortune with others, but I want to do more along those lines, and I will.

Okay, for the next couple of weeks there will still be an hour or two I'll be alone on the beach, so I walk to the boardwalk and buy another book to read. No, I have no idea what happened to the two unread books I bought a couple of weeks ago. Honoring the boys' interest in the Universe, I buy a paperback book, an old novel by Carl Sagen called "Contact" about first contact with aliens from somewhere in the Universe. I'm reading it when Bruce shows up to hug and kiss me, lighting up my world. Yes, everything I've dreamed about since meeting Bruce is going to happen, and I can't wait for all of it to get here. What a summer, and what a promising life ahead... everything's in place for a special life yet to be lived!

THE END donnymumford@outlook.com

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