Date: Sat, 11 Feb 2017 16:14:02 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE    Chapter  29

DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE


Chapter  29


by  Donny Mumford


At a little after seven  o'clock Sunday night Daryl and I are in the Jeep
on our way to Tracy's  Speakeasy.  As we approach Tracy's we see an overflow
crowd on  the outside deck so I drive on by, muttering, "Nah, too crowded.

Everyone's  returning from Thanksgiving break and reconnecting with roommates
 and friends over a few beers. Let's forget about stopping there." Daryl
points at the throng of college students partying outside in the cold,
saying, "I'll bet I could score some grass in that crowd." I'm like,  "Jesus,
we're the odd couple, Pony. I don't like grass and you don't like  booze." He
says, "I don't like beer, but I'll do shots with you. Liquor  gets you high
quicker, and getting high is the only reason for drinking, right?  I mean you
don't 'drink' because you like the taste."

Stopped at a red light,  I give him a tongue-in-cheek lecture, "Drinking a
few beers isn't just  about the taste or getting high quickly. Having some
beers with your buds is a  social occasion. Anyway, beer doesn't taste too
awful after getting past the  first one or two." He sarcastically replies,
"Oh, thank you for explaining that  to me, Professor Newman," and I go, "I'm
just trying to help you with social  skills." He goes, "Seriously though,
you're like most guys, Dylan. I'm the  oddball who only reluctantly will have a
beer or two if I absolutely must  because of peer pressure. The only other
guy I know who feels the same  way is that Markie kid at the card games." I'm
like, "Um, have you  ever spoken to him?" Pony shrugs, "Not really. I'm not
good at starting a  conversation with someone I don't know. I mean without
seeming dorky." I  go, "Dude, you could casually commiserate with him about
how you both hate  beer. Or compliment him by saying, 'Good hand' if he wins
a pot,  something like that. You're not a social nitwit, are you?" He says,
"Yeah,  that's right, I'm a social retard, okay?" I pat his shoulder,
"Don't  be so sensitive, Pony. Hell, you didn't have any trouble talking with me
when we first met." He says, "We'd already bumped into each other a few
times before we spoke, plus you're, um, very approachable. Didn't you notice I
 was a little tongue-tied at first?" I go, "No, you seemed fine to  me."

I'm apparently not  a very good matchmaker. I've introduced Mark and Pony
to one another but it  hasn't gone any further than that. I go, "Anyway,
let's get  some dinner and maybe stop in at Tracy's later. You can try scoring
some  grass if you want. I wanna buy a case of beer because there's only two
cans  of Coors left in the apartment refrigerator." Daryl's patting his
hair,  asking, "Do I really need to get mousse for my hair? I think it's trained
 already." I glance over at him, smirking, then say, "Hey, cowboy, where'd
you  get that awesome haircut?" He says, "It looks good, doesn't it?" I
begrudgingly  agree, "Yeah, but only because I was able to make even that
abomination of a  hair-style look okay. And yeah, maybe you can skip the mousse."

He  goes, "This is the first time since third or fourth grade I've had a
hair-style  other than a buzz cut, and I'm feeling kinda cool about it." To my
delusional  side-sex buddy, I say, "Me too, but for your next haircut I'll
do something that  actually is cool." He mumbles, "No thanks, I don't want
anything different...  I like this haircut." Jesus Christ, I wanna scream!
Nobody 'gets'  it.

Driving to the  restaurant/bar, the one where I met Markie, I'm thinking
maybe he'll even  be at the bar tonight. Yeah, but so what if he is? I've
given up trying to be  matchmaker for Pony and Mark, and... Hey wait a second; a
little while ago  I was thinking Daryl was my one and only side-sex-buddy,
but that's not  totally true. I forgot about Markie and me on Halloween
night. Huh,  and now that I think about it, it's kinda odd he hasn't hinted for
an  encore. I mean, he's played cards at the apartment two or three times
since  Halloween but he acts like it never happened. Or maybe he's waiting for
me to  hint around for an encore. Then I get this thought: 'How hot would a
 three-way be with moi, Pony, and Markie? Whoa!' Then I'm like, 'Get  a
fuckin' grip on reality, dude!'  I'm so sure they'd both be  comfortable having
a three-way-sex-a-thon... NOT!  Well, Markie might  be okay with it, but
not Daryl. He's too deeply in the closet.

At the restaurant  there's a couple of open spaces in the small parking lot
so I slide the  Jeep in between a pickup truck and a Volvo station wagon.

Pony whines, "Why  are we even eating at a bar?" I'm like, "What's your
problem now?" He goes,  "I can't get served and I'll get humiliated trying."

Getting out of the  Jeep, I chuckle, "My man, you don't like beer so why are you
whining about  not getting served. We'll sit at a table and order dinner.

I'll have a beer and  you have something else like a Coke or iced tea." He
nods, then in a wise-ass  manner says, "You're so knowledgeable when
explaining complicated things  like this to me." I go, "Hey, you're the one whining
about being  humiliated." Walking toward the entrance, he says, "I'm just
breaking  your balls. Hey, have you given any thought about my idea of you and
me taking a bath together?" Pretending I've never taken a bath with another
 guy, I go, "It's hard to wrap my head around that one, Pony, but it  might
be fun at that. Which one sounds like more fun; the bath or a shower?" He
shrugs, "Let's do both." What a sexy, hot-shit idea!
Inside it's not crowded  at all, but then it is fairly early on a Sunday
night. As soon as  we sit at a table a waitress comes right over. She sort of
smirks,  then says, "I'm gonna need ID boys, and it better be really good
'cause local law enforcement frowns on us serving alcohol  to high-school
students." Her name tag reads, 'Kitty'. Huh, really!  As I'm getting my wallet
out, I say, "Well, Kitty, what if we only  want dinner?" She goes, "Yeah
well, the law's a little sketchy on that one,  honey. Different interpretations
from town to town and bar to bar. In here,  if it's before say nine
o'clock, and the minor is with an adult, then we usually  let it slide. Not at the
bar though; just at the tables." Smirking, I hand her  my driver's license
and she goes, "Wow, you fooled me. How about you, honey,"  speaking to Daryl.

He gives her his license and jabs his thumb at me, saying,  "I'm the minor
with my adult friend here." She flips the license back at  him, saying, "I
was referring to an adult, as in a parent. It's slow  tonight though, so I'll
serve you boys dinner." She lays  two menus down, and I say, "Yeah, swell,
but I will  have a drink. A bottle of Blue Moon Ale, if you please." Kitty
says, "It's  a larger, not an ale, honey," and off she goes. What's with the
'honey' bull  shit? Pony and I exchange 'frowns', like, what the fuck? Then
we check-out the  menu.

Same menu as the one at  the bar the other two times I was here. Daryl,
who's sitting across from me,  says, "This is just burgers and tacos. I was
thinking you were treating me  to a real dinner. Like a streak dinner or
something." I give him my dead-eye  stare, and he laughs, "No, seriously, that's
what I thought." Ignoring  that, I go, "You know what, Pony Boy? You're a
very good looking guy." He  goes, "It's just, Pony, if you don't mind. Drop the
'boy' part." I nod, "Ya  don't take compliments very well, do you?" He
actually blushes a little, "Yeah,  that was a nice compliment, but the thing is
it came from the best looking guy  I've ever see in my life, so I'm thinking
you're laughing at me again." I go,  "You'd be wrong about that, but you're
right about us needing a real  dinner. So, do you wanna get a soda while I
drink a beer or two? Then we'll go  to a real restaurant for dinner." He
says, "Jesus Christ! I was teasing you.  This place is fine."

The beer comes with a  slice of orange. Kitty sets it down, asking, "Do you
know why a slice of  orange comes with Blue Moon beer?" I shrug, then say,
"For the same reason  a piece of lime comes with the Mexican beer, Corona, I
guess." She says,  "No. The lime gets rubbed on the rim of the Corona
bottle to keep the  Mexican flies away. The orange slice with Blue Moon was  just
a gimmick. When Coors began brewing Blue Moon a few years back  their
promotion people came up with an orange slice to differentiate it  from other
beers, and it worked too." I go, "Huh!" Daryl says, "I  guess I'll have a
Coke," and Kitty says, "Oh, goodie. Let me ask you  something: are you two
planning to order separately so I'll need to come to  the table twice as often, is
that it?" I go, "Nope! That's not it at all, Kitty.  When you bring the
Coke, bring the check too." She looks startled, so I add,  "Um, the minor lad
sitting across from me can't find anything on the menu  he feels like having
for dinner." She goes, "Wheesh! It's the menu then...  whoa, I was afraid it
was something I said." I go, "Not at all, you've been  a wonderful waitress
so far." She shakes her head and goes off to get  Daryl's soda. He says,
"You can be a real ball-buster when you wanna be,  can't ya? You're still on
that kick about being a prick, right?" I say,  "What the fuck is its now,
Pony? That wasn't being a ball-buster. I  was politely explaining the situation
to Kitty." He makes a face, "I don't know,  Dylan, the tone of your voice
oozed sarcasm, plus you threw me under the  fucking bus." I'm like, "She
sucks as a waitress, and you're the one  complaining about burgers and tacos."

He goes, "I fucking told you I was fine  with a burger for dinner." I shrug,
grinning to myself. It's fun busting Pony's  chops.

Kitty brings the Coke  and the check; then, with nothing else to say, she
walks away. Looking  at the check, I'm like, "Hey! Kitty is okay after all!
No charge  for the Coke and she wrote 'Have a nice day' on the check." Daryl
mutters,  "Yeah, well the day is over; it should say, 'Have a nice night'.

don't ya  think?" I mutter, "Nobody  says, 'Have a nice night'" He chuckles,
then asks, "How much was your  beer?" I go, "Five bucks." He shakes his
head, "That's ridiculous!" Yeah, when  you think about it, it is ridiculous.

That works-out to $30.00 for a six-pack  that I'd pay $9.00 for at a package
store. Plus, you know damn well  the bar buys beer by the case and pays less
for it than I'd need to pay for  a case. That's like a 400% mark-up on each
bottle. Still busting his nuts,  I go, "Jeez, Daryl, since you don't drink
beer, why concern yourself with how  much it cost? Anyway, there's a cool kind
of atmosphere drinking in bars  and that almost makes the inflated prices
worthwhile." He goes,  "Keep trying to talk yourself into that BS." I mutter,
"Yeah, ha ha, it is pretty stupid.  You done your Coke yet? Let's get outta
here." We drink up and I leave  seven dollars on the check; basically a 40%
tip. Well, there was tax on the  five-dollar beer, plus she comped Pony's
Coke,  and I'll be in here again so I don't want Kitty thinking I'm  cheap.


I drive to the Methuen  Mall and we eat at 'Not Your Average Joe's'
restaurant. I order  a Blue Moon beer and get carded, of course. Then find out they
don't carry  Blue Moon so I get a Bud. For dinner Daryl has Angus Beef
sirloin tips with  garlic mashed potatoes and sautéed green beans. I have
spice-rubbed  pork tenderloin with sweet potato wedges and something called
Mexican  street-corn, which is kernel corn with little pieces of green and  red
peppers. I don't eat that on general principal. For dessert we both  have the
strawberry shortcake with fresh strawberries, vanilla ice cream, and  fresh
whipped cream. They double-dipped by including both the ice cream and
whipped cream. Maybe someone couldn't decide which would be more popular,  so
they serve both. The dinners were overpriced at $17.00 each, and then  they
really screwed me with the desserts which were $8.50 each. Walking out  after
dinner, I'm like, "That meal struggled mightily to make its way up to 'okay',
don't ya  think?" He goes, "I liked mine and I want to thank you very much
for dinner. I'm  so grateful for the free meal that I'm willing to suck your
cock and  let you fuck me." We both chuckle at that because that's nothing
new;  it's what we've been doing for over two months now, with or without a
free  dinner.

Back at the apartment  we smoke a cigarette on the balcony deciding we'll
do both a bath and a shower  together. Done our smokes we walk inside
shivering from the cold out there. It  hasn't hit below freezing yet, but the
forecast calls for below  freezing temperatures at night all week. So far there's
been no snow  at all, which is fine with me, but like they say on Game of
Thrones, 'winter is  coming'. In the bedroom we get undressed. Naked, I pad
into the  bathroom and turn on the water for the tub. As odd as it  probably
sounds to most people, giving Daryl the haircut this  afternoon makes him
seem especially sexy to me tonight, and obviously  that's a nod to my haircut
fetish.

Pony's standing  naked at my desk tapping on my computer. He's one sexy-hot
looking guy, so  I come up behind him and rub my hand up the back of his
head, saying, "My  computer is password protected so snoops like you can't see
my  private surfing " He turn around, "Is that right? I wasn't even
thinking about that," and he chuckles, adding, "This might sound weird to you,
but I was just wondering how come I'm comfortable being naked with you? I
never feel comfortable being naked around anybody else." I go, "Ya got me
there; I don't know, Pony. As for me, I like being naked." Then, gently
touching his right butt cheek, I ask, "How's your ass?" He says, "It feels  okay.

How's it look?" I'm like, "It looks sexy, dude," and he goes, "I  mean how do
the welts look?" Chuckling, I mumble, "I knew what the  fuck you meant.

They're gone, that's how the welts look." He feels both  buttocks, mumbling,
"Yeah, they're healed already. It was that  awesome cream you put on them,
Dylan. You deserve a reward," and he  awkwardly kisses my mouth after first
bumping his nose against mine. I go, "Oh  my God, another hot kiss from Pony
Boy." He goes, "It's not Pony Boy, just Pony!  And you're laughing at me
again." I get him in a headlock, saying, "No I'm  not!" Gee, I love the feel of a
guy's naked body against mine. Pony isn't  struggling to get loose though,
he's hugging around my waist with both  arms, mumbling, "I think I love you,
Dylan." I let go of him, "Oh no! We don't  go there! We're buddies who
occasionally do some buddy sex." Blushing a  little, he mumbles, "Don't fucking
worry about it. I'm not gonna stalk you or  anything, and I don't expect any
love back from you. Anyway, I know you're  in love with the shortstop. I
just happen to love you too, that's  all."

Nodding my head, I go,  "Well, if I wanna stretch matters to the max, I
could say I love you  as my buddy-sex partner, so there's that." He grins,
shouting, "I'll take  it! Sold! That's more than I hoped for." I go, "You
realize of  course you've just made both of us feel totally awkward, right?" He
goes, "Yeah, I figured that would happen, but I wanted to hear how it sounded
 saying out loud, I love you, when you were present to hear  it." I go,
"How'd it sound?" He shrugs, "A little awkward." Grinning, I hug him,  and he
melds in against me. My fingers ruffle his hair as I fish for another
compliment, saying, "Great fuckin' haircut," and he laughs, muttering,  "Well,
yeah, it is awesome." As we let go of each other he mutters, "How  many fuckin'
times do I gotta tell you that?"

I smirk at  that and he murmurs, "But that was a smooth transition from
that awkward moment by getting me to tell you how much I like the haircut
instead of how much I love you." I go, "Jesus! We both  like each other, Daryl.

Can't we leave it at that?" He nods,  "Sure, I already said what I wanted
to say." I hear water splashing on the  tile floor and mutter, "Shit," then
run into the bathroom to turn off the  bathtub's spigot. Following me into
the bathroom, Daryl goes, "Oooh,  what'll we do now, Dylan?" I shrug, "Nothing
much to do. The water is draining  out the tub's overflow drain, so we'll
mop this water off the floor  with a couple of bath towels." We do that, then
test the water, "Hot," says  Daryl. Picking the sopping-wet towels off the
floor, I'm like, "We'll wait  until some more water drains out before
getting in," then I drop the  wet towels in the shower stall so water from the
towels can run down  the shower's drain. I go, "Oops! I almost forgot
something," and step back into  the bedroom to retrieve Rob's tube of lubricant. I
know from experience that,  generally speaking, fucking in water can be
challenging, but the lubricant  will help; water will merely bead on it.

Back in the bathroom I  put the lube on the shelf next to the oversized
bathtub. Pony's watching and  grinning, then he mumbles, "Lubricant is an
awesome idea and shows what a  considerate guy you are." In our early weeks of
fucking we used lubricated  condoms. Then Daryl didn't have a condom one time
and we fucked anyway, so  now we rarely use a condom. We're standing
side-by-side outside the tub  watching the water level drop as it continues going
down  the overflow drain. Daryl looks at me for a few seconds, then  asks,
"How the fuck can you have such a hot body when you've never  worked-out or
trained like I did for the swim and gymnastic teams?" I go, "It's  Mother
Nature's gift to me, but I've also lifted weights. I lifted  regularly all last
year and I've been doing those three-mile runs with you,  so I'm in good
shape." He goes, "I'll say," and he flicks a finger at  my nip ring, asking,
"Did that hurt?" I go, "Yeah, like a mother-fucker. It's  cool-looking though,
don't ya think?" He nods, mumbling, "Your tattoo's cool too  and your
shaved pubes... oh man, sexy as hell. You're the coolest dude I've  ever known."

I squeeze the back of his neck, grinning at him, "Well thank you,  Daryl.

You're pretty fucking cool yourself." He shrugs, "Nah, not really." I  dump a
clean bath sponge in the tub, then put a plastic container of Stop &  Shop
bath gel on the shelf next to the lube tube.  I go, "Let's get in  the tub
now."

Stepping one leg in I  find the water's still really hot, but my other leg
goes in  anyway, and I'm like, "Hot!" Daryl puts a hand on my shoulder
steadying himself as he steps one leg in, then the other. He makes  a face,
"It's gonna burn our nuts when we sit down." Holding onto his arm,  I slowing
sit down, saying, "Whoa! No, it's not too bad." Sitting with my  back against
the curved-end of the tub, opposite the faucet,  then Daryl sits down with
his back to me and slides backwards  in between my legs. He lies his back
against my chest, groaning, "It's too  fucking hot for me." I put my arms
around him, mumbling, "This is nice,  Pony." He goes, "Yeah, actually it is." The
back of his head lies against  my shoulder, the side of his face partially
against the side of mine with  his firm buttocks pressing against my
privates. I murmur, "Very soon you'll feel  a hard part of me poking your butt
cheek. Do not become alarmed." He murmurs,  "You have no fucking idea how
awesome I think this is. Being in a bathtub full  of water with another gay guy
just rocks so much! It's sort of my number one  fantasy of all time, even more
so than the sex toys." I reach up and rub  his head, "It's pretty nice for
me too."  Not counting the hundred  times Chub and I as youngsters took
baths together, I've been in  a tub with another guy maybe ten times. Willie
liked to get in the tub with me,  and I've been in the tub with Rob a few times
as well. Huh, I can't remember  bathing with Ryan, although I must have. I
still feel bad for  my over-medicated and confused friend.

Pony and I lie in the  water like this for a minute or two without talking;
the only sound in the  bathroom is the rippling water whenever one of us
moves  slightly. Sweat beads on both our foreheads in the overheated bathroom
with  the very hot water up to our nipples. Then Daryl starts squirming
against me, quietly saying, "Look who's come up to join us." Looking over his
shoulder I see all five inches of his cock boned-up tightly and  sticking
straight up in the water; the head about eight inches below the  surface. I
reach down and get it in my fist. Daryl goes, "Don't, Dylan!  I'll cum too
fast and I like feeling my dick hard like this." I stroke it  anyway: stroke,
stroke, stroke. Daryl leans back heavily against me  grunting and trying to
push my hand away. Letting go of his boner, I say, "Turn  around, Pony, and
get on your knees. I'll suck on your boner a little bit." He  says, "Really?"

I nod, "Sure," and he slushes water over the sides of the tub  onto the
tile floor as he's getting around facing me, then lifting up on his  knees.

Looking into my eyes, he says, "You do realize this will make me  climax in two
seconds, right?" I go, "Nah, more like ten  seconds."

On his knees, with his  body up straight, his boner sticks straight out
from his groin about two  inches above the waterline. Leaning my head forward,
my chin in  the water, I take his hard penis in my mouth. It slides back on
my  tongue until the hard, smooth head bumps the back of my throat. Closing
my lips,  I press my tongue tightly against the underside of his boner and I
pull my  head back slowly dragging my tongue along his cock until just the
bulbous head  is left in my mouth. Pony shudders as I suck on the head and
twirl my  tongue around it. Gasping, he grabs my shoulders and goes, "Aaaaah,
 mmmm," and a big drool of precum slides out onto my tongue. He grips my
shoulders even tighter and goes, "Aaaaaah, I'm gonna cum." I'm  still licking
and sucking, sucking, sucking on the head of his boner for  another five
seconds before Pony's hips buck, then, "Oooooh, fuuuuck," as  cum pumps up
from his nuts and spurts out his gaping piss slit. Creamy  cum covers my
tongue, then another spurt of cum as I try sucking  more cum from his nuts. As
usual, I've got a roaring-hard boner myself from sucking cock.  By now, after
three good streams of cum from Pony's boner I've got  cum drooling out the
sides of my mouth. Pony's hips hump hard pushing his boner to the back of my
throat again, both his hands at the back of my head now as a couple more
spurts  of cum ooze out to drool down my throat.

With a gasping inhale,  he lets go of my head and sits back pulling his
cock from my mouth.  I'm twirling my tongue around tasting his creamy load and
grinning,  then I'm like, "Ain't buddy-sex more fun than a truckload of
monkeys?" He  inhales and exhales again, exclaiming, "Holy shit, that felt good.

Oh my  God.... whooooa!" He pulls on his softening pecker, then turns
around and slides  backward until his back is against my chest again. Snuggling
in  tightly, he murmurs, "Goddamn, this is awesome!" I've got my arms around
his chest giving the side of his head a kiss, murmuring, "I think you're
probably going to win the cutest and most fun gay-playmate of the week
award." He mutters, "There you go again, laughing at me. I don't give a shit
though because from now on you're going to need to suck me off daily.  That
really felt good! Awesome orgasm and it wasn't as fast as I thought it'd  be."

I mutter, "Your cum  had a faint taste of strawberries." He chuckles,
muttering, "Bull-shit." I'm  like, "No, it does," as I smack my lips. He goes,
"You're spoiling me,  Dylan. And I don't mean in a good way either. It's like,
what am I gonna  be left with when you're gone? Zilch, that's what." I go,
"Well,  find yourself a fucking boyfriend and stop trying to lay guilt trips
on  me." He laughs, "Do you realize we argue a lot?" I mumble, "That's
because  you're such a pain in the ass." He goes, "I know you don't mean  that."

We lull in the water  silently for a bit, then Pony says, "We should have
the CD player in here. Some  tunes would go good." I say, "Yeah, well... "

then tell Daryl, "Lean over to the  spigot, Pony, and turn on the hot water
again; it's getting like lukewarm  now." The water level is at the level of
the overflow drain so when he  turns on the hot water full-force we hear the
sound of  water gurgling down the overflow drain again. Pony  gets right back
between  my legs lying back against my chest, and when I don't put my arms
around him, he picks them up out of the water and does it for me,
murmuring, "Show me a little affection, for chrissakes." I hug him one time  hard,
then say, "There isn't normally a lot of affection involved in buddy  sex,
Daryl. Don't you know anything?" He says, "Fuck that, I need some  affection."

I go, "This from a guy who doesn't kiss." He goes, "That's correct;  I
don't." I go, "Well screw your affection desires then," but I keep my arms
around him because he's got a hot body and I like him a  lot.

With the back of his  head on my shoulder, he says, "Tell me again about
the first time you  had sex, Dylan, and don't make-up some bull-shit story.

The  real first-time for you." I mutter, "If I told you the  truth you'd think
I was bull-shitting you." He says, "Tell it anyway." I  shrug, then tell
him my true story. He listens without commenting for like five  minutes until
I'm at the part where fat Carl made me nag him for sex and how,  generally
speaking, he treated me like shit, humiliating me regularly" Pony  goes, "I
don't know whether to believe that part. I can't see you nagging that  fat
prick for sex, or for that matter fat Carl waiting for you to nag him. Not  if
he was as unattractive as you say he was. He should have been thrilled
having sex with someone like you." I go, "He was a mean bastard and got off
being mean to me. Plus, he was fucking his cousin too, so it's not like he
wasn't having sex. Surprisingly, a few years later, he lost a lot of weight
and his acne cleared-up and he was kinda good looking. He remained the  same
deep creep he'd always been though. Basically I  didn't know any better at
the time; I was  naive and only seventeen-fucking-years-old." He nods his
head against my  shoulder, saying, "Yeah, but at least you found Willie and had
those cool  adventures with him. I was seventeen when Sam dumped me because
I was still  in the closet, and then there wasn't anyone after that. Not
until I met the  fabulous Dylan Newman who's taken me under his wing because
he's fallen in love  with me." I chuckle, then say, "You flatter me too much,
Pony." He  goes, "I lie a lot too." I  mutter, "Ah, being seventeen again.

Wouldn't that be cool, assuming you  knew then what you know now? The things
we learn between seventeen and  twenty-one is one helluva lot!"

He tells me more about  how he felt being dumped by Sam... mixed emotions
mostly. I mutter,  "Sorry, Pony, but shit happens. Anyway, story-telling time
is over and now  we need to bathe each  other. I'll do you first." Then,
looking around, I'm like, "Shit! I forgot to  bring the shampoo from the
shower stall." He says, "Well, won't we want to rinse  off in the shower after
bathing? We'll do the shampooing then." I grab  the sponge and dunk it under
water, then add bath  gel, saying" Yes, excellent idea, Daryl. We'll shampoo
in the shower."  He goes, "Call me by my fuckin' nickname! Jeeezus!" I go,
"Close your eyes and  mouth, Pony, I'm going to wash your face now and, heh
heh, I wouldn't want to  get a lot of soap in your potty mouth." Hoping he
took me at my word, I reach  around in front and rub the sponge all over his
face, then his ears and neck; he  has the smallest Adams apple. "Dunk your
head under water, Pony," He dunks  twice, then wipes water off his face with
both hands, saying, "That bath  gel smells awesome. What kind is it?" I go,
"Yeah, I think it smells good too,  and it's the inexpensive Stop & Shop
store brand, if you can believe  that." I wash his back as he's leaning forward,
then reach around in front of  him again washing his chest and stomach.

Muttering, "We need to change  positions, Pony," I slide him forward a little,
then stand up and step past him.  Damn, but I like bathing with another guy!
Rob and I need to do this more  often.

On my knees, in front  of him now, I pick up his right arm and drag the
sponge, spreading gel  up and down and all around his arm and hand, then his
armpit, saying, "You  hardly have any hair under your arm." He gently rubs his
fingers on my  chin, saying, "And you don't have any beard." I go, "I
shaved yesterday." He  goes, "Ha! Maybe you did, but you still don't have any
beard." I go, "There are  Navaho Indians in my family-tree sometime long ago,
um, in like frontier times." He goes, "Navaho?" and I'm like,  "Actually I
forget what it was someone told me about something genetic, um,  about a
group of my relatives way back who had almost no  facial hair which probably
effected my facial-hair gene. I'll look it up  sometime." I'm washing his other
arm kneeling in front of him, his legs spread  out on either side of me. He
mutters, "Whatever, you still don't have a beard."  I stop, and yell,
"Would you drop the beard talk already?" He lifts his  eyebrows, "And you say I'm
sensitive?" Lifting one of his legs by the  ankle, I wash his leg,
mumbling, "Nice leg for a guy." He goes, "Did you notice  I have curly hairs on my
calves? Um, like most guys have, I might  add." I laugh, then say, "Yeah, and
I don't have curly hairs on my fucking legs,  but so what?" He shrugs,
"Just saying..." I wash his foot, mumbling, "This  is a very nice foot. If I had
a foot fetish I'd be sucking on these toes  of yours. Look how perfectly
they're formed. Even your little toe." He  goes, "Um, are you sure you don't
have a foot fetish?" I go, "Yeah, I'm sure,  but if I did..."

After washing his other  leg and foot, I'm like, "Do you want to wash your
privates?" He goes, "No,  you're bathing all of me." Shrugging, I'm like,
"Get up on you knees then."  He gets on his knees slushing more water over the
side of the tub onto the  floor. I pick up his dick with my left hand and
make a production out of washing  it, then his nuts and we both snort out a
chuckle. "How old are we anyway?,"  Pony asks. I'm shaking my head, "I'm just
trying to get everything nice and  clean for my special buddy-sex partner."

Reaching between his legs I wash  his buttocks, then drag the sponge up and
down his short ass crack. Done  that I squeeze the sponge getting most of
the soap and water out, then toss it  in the direction of the hamper, saying,
"No way are you using that sponge to  wash my face; not after I just washed
your ass with it." He laughs, "Damn,  I was just thinking the same thing,
and I had every intention of doing it.   Heh heh. Anyway, my ass was clean to
start with." I go, "Well, I need to get  another sponge. Hmmm, the floor
has water on it already, so," and I step  out of the tub, dripping lots of
water on the floor on my way to get a  clean sponge. Rob and I put the bath
sponges through the wash after each time we  use one. Mostly we used a
washcloth.

Tossing the clean  sponge in the tub, I step back in and sit down. Pony
says, "I feel so shining  new and clean. You did an awesome job! Ya know, it's
a  damn good thing you sucked an orgasm out of my dick a little while ago or
 there would be cum floating around in this bath water right now. You
bathing me  was super sexy-hot!" I go, "Glad you enjoyed it," and he says, "Yeah,
but now  you need to slide between my legs, the way I was sitting. I'm
taking over."  I slide backwards between his legs and lie back against his clean
chest. He hugs  me for a while, murmuring, "Oooooh, this is so nice." The
hot water is still  coming out full force, so I finally ask, "Is this water
getting too hot  for you again?" He goes, "It's fucking hot alright, but I'm
used to it by now."  He traces his finger across my shoulders, saying, "You
have a birth mark on your  left shoulder." I go, "That's a freckle." He
goes, "It's a mole actually, I was  trying to be nice about it." I say, "Okay,
we'll settle on birth mark." He  begins soaping up the sponge and then does a
very conscientious job of bathing  every inch of me. He takes twice as long
doing it as I took and I almost  fall into a trance near the end. It's like
neither of us says anything for like  fifteen minutes with Pony slowly
dragging the soapy sponge over my body and  it becomes mesmerizing to me. I'll
bet I could be hypnotized easily.  Daryl does everything the way I did it but
much slower, and after like  twenty minutes he finally squeezes the water
and soap out of the sponge and  tosses it over where I tossed mine. Then we
get back in our original position of him  lying his back on my chest as he
sits in between my legs.

We continue with quiet  time while I lightly rub my hands over Pony's
nicely formed shoulders and  then reach around in front and rub his nipples, one
at a time, between my  thumb and forefinger until both nipples are hard
points sticking out of his  tight pecs. As I've mentioned about twenty times, he
has an awesome  swimmer's/gymnast's body. Pony sighs, his body totally
relaxed against mine.  I'll bet his eyes are closed as we lie here with soap
suds floating on top of the  water. I'm watching them dissolve slowly, one
little cloud after another  turning the water the slightest bit cloudy. Finally
I go, "I hate  to interrupt your nap, Pony, but my boner is aching." He
turns his head,  straining his neck, to look at me, "I almost did fall asleep,
but your boner  felt so sexy against my butt cheek I couldn't doze off." I
go, "I've got a  wicked hard boner alright." He goes, "It sure is, and I was
wondering how  long you could hold-off putting it up my ass." I go, "Well now
you know. Pass me  that tube of lubricant." Pony leans forward and gets the
tube, then passes it  back to me. I stand just high enough to get my boner
out of the water so I can  wipe slippery lubricant up and down my hard penis
and, oh my, does that ever  feel good! Passing the tube back to Daryl, I
sit back down in the  water. It's become too hot again from the steady flow of
really hot  water from the spigot. "Pony, lean over and turn off the
spigot, then when  you sit back down I'll guide my slippery boner to your, um,
rectum opening." He  nods, turning his head to grin at me, then lifts up and
leans to the other  end of the bathtub turning off the water.

Looking back at me,  Pony lowers his ass slowly until his buttocks hits the
head of my boner.  I'm holding it straight up in my fist and only need to
slide the head  an inch to the left to make contact with his asshole. "Okay,
it's all  up to you now." Another head nod from him and I feel pressure on
the head of my  cock for a second, then, "Oooh!" it slips inside Pony's body.

He's holding onto  both sides of the free-standing tub, barely lowering his
ass. Then he says, "I  felt water go up inside me, Dylan," and he lifts his
ass off the head of my  boner with an, "Ahhh!" from me. Partially standing,
with his ass out  of the water, he asks, "Do you see water leaking out of
my ass?" I go, "What's  your concern about water up your ass?" Shrugging and
looking back at me, he  goes, "I don't know. Maybe it would be like an enema
or something." I'm  like, "An enema? That requires a pint of water at
least, or maybe eight  ounces would do it, I'm not an enema-ologist so I'm not
positive. But  certainly an enema needs more than a teaspoon of water." He's
like,  "Alright already! I'll forget about the water going up my ass," and he
sits  down again, slowly. This time the head of my boner hits under his
balls. I drag  it back a little, and, "Oooh!" as the head slides in past his
sphincter muscle with Pony's grunting, "Ooh  fuck, my ass already feels nice
and full." Yeah, I know what he means,  but oh man, a hard cock inside a
friendly tight rectum feels ridiculously  good too, and I'm sort of holding my
breath so my moans of pleasure  are under control, but wow it feels awfully
good!
Pony asks, "Ready?" and  I grunt, "You're the boss during this endeavor,
baby," and he lowers his  ass two inches as I squirm on the slippery bottom of
the tub; slippery with  bath gel residue. Pony's goes, "Aaah, shiiit," as
his heels slip forward  and he plops down fully on my lap creating a wave in
the tub that goes forward  and then drifts back as I make a loud breathy
sound with Pony going,  "OWWWW! Fucccck!" He sat all the way down on my boner!
Oh man, that must  have hurt! Holding my breath again; this time because I
feel on the verge of a  premature ejaculation. Taking quick little breaths
now, I rub Pony's  shoulder trying to help him deal with the pain in his
rectum. He's  perfectly still taking short fast breaths like mine. My eyes are
blinking from the sensations that are sparkling off my cock. Oooh,  such
sexual pleasurable from my hard penis! After a few  seconds, I tentatively ask,
"Are you okay, Daryl?" He holds the back  of a hand up, like, 'Just a
second', then he goes, "That hurt,  but it's getting better quickly." I'm still
rubbing his shoulders and  the back of his neck, then up the back of his head
with Pony moving his  head back, murmuring, "Do that head massage thing
again, Dylan." I do that  for a minute or so, and he seems fine.

While I'm massaging his  scalp, he asks, "How's my haircut look?" and I
bark out a laugh, not expecting  him to ask that. I go, "It looks the same,"

then rub my finger up his spine  and squeeze the back of his neck with his
body shivering as I  ask, "Are you planning on lifting up on my boner sometime
tonight?" He  chuckles, "Yeah, but you just gave me chills." With a hand on
either  side of the tub he lifts his ass a few inches, then comes down, and
lifts up a  few inches again and then sits flat on my legs again, murmuring,
"It's  feels awesome, but it's awkward lifting with my arms. This tub is
too wide." I  say, "Ya wimp. Okay, we'll get up together and I'll fuck you on
your hands  and knees, doggie style. That's always a favorite position for
fucking." He  says, "Yeah, let's try staying docked together  though." We try
getting our feet under us with my cock still up his ass. Lots of  water
slushing around and splashing outside the tub making me curse  under my breath
and then we both get the giggles. I slip  backwards pulling my cock from his
ass and grabbing his waist with both hands to  stop my fall. Of course we
both flop down in the water on our asses.  More water slushing over the rim
of the tub onto the floor as  Pony sarcastically mutters, "That worked pretty
well." His ass missed  crushing my boner by a cunt hair. Jesus!
I splash some water at  his back like you do in a swimming pool, then stand
up dripping with water.  Reaching down and grabbing his hips, I'm like,
"Just get on your knees." He  mutters, "I'm trying," and I go, "All you gotta
do is lean forward, for  chrissakes." He's laughing, quietly mumbling, "The
Two Stooges." More water  slushes out onto the floor as I pull on his hips
helping him get forward on his  hands and knees. Pony goes, "Let me back up or
my face will hit the  spigot when your thrusting gets me swaying to and
fro." As he backs  up, I mutter in a questioning manner, "To and fro?" He goes,
"Fro's a  word."  I'm still standing, getting chilled from the relatively
cooler  air. The hot water seems inviting as I stroke my slippery cock that's
 unfortunately lost a bit of its hardness. Pony, on his hands and  knees
now, looks back, "I'm ready, Mister Top." I slap his wet ass, "SMACK!" and
say, "So am I, Mister Bottom." It's probably a wise move on my part  to get on
my knees or I could slip and fall on my ass again. The  bottom of the tub
is slippery and slightly hazardous.

After carefully getting  on my knees, I give his ass a couple more smacks
creating wet, "SMACK!  SMACK!" sounds bouncing off the tile walls as Pony
grins, saying, "I've  been a naughty boy." I mutter, "Maybe I need to get that
paddle." The head  of my still fairly hard cock pokes around his asshole;
three pokes and I hit the center of his anus and with a hump of my hips my
boner's head disappears inside Pony's tight warm rectum and  he goes, "Oooh!"

His sphincter muscles tighten around the neck of my boner and,  as my cock
grows harder and slightly longer, my shoulders do their shudder with  some
zipping sensations prickling around my groin like little electric shocks.

Another little shudder and then my hips trust, seemingly on their own, driving
 my boned-up cock another three inches up Pony's ass. His head strains back
as he  moans, "Aaaaaah, oooh fuuuuck," and there's some thrashing in the
water between  his legs as he strokes his submerged boner.

With three inches  or so of hard cock up Pony's ass, I rub both my hands up
and down  his sides, then up his back before another thrust of my hips, on
purpose this  time, and the rest of my boner disappears inside his rectum.

Pony lifts up  moaning, "Oooh fuck, that feels good." I push in another half
inch and I'm  tightly docked against his buttocks. Grinding my hips gets
Pony's shoulders  doing their little shudder again as he settles back down on
his hands  and knees. Oh my God, the sensations coming off my hard penis from
millions of  nerve ending makes me close my eyes and moan, "Mmmmm, jeez
that's awesome." His  tight rectum squeezes my boner, and then his muscle
contracts spastically  further stimulating the nerve ending at the head of my
cock making my  shoulders imitate Pony's shudder. Fuck, this is really hot!
Letting out my held  breath, I cup my hands on his shoulder and begin
fucking him  steadily, hard and fast disturbing the water in the tub as it
splashes  all around us, waves splashing over the sides onto the floor. Pony's
moaning,  "Aaah, aaah, aaah," and the tile walls sing the males' ass-fucking
song,  "SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP," in concert with Pony's moans. My eyes close again
to  fully concentrate on the sexual pleasure as more and more sensations are
coming off my cock, "SLAPSLAPSLAP," for two, then three minutes until Pony
shudders, lifts up on his knees, his hips humping out a surprisingly long
stream of cum, especially considering he had that orgasm in my mouth less
than  an hour ago. He's groaning, "Awwwww, oooh," then "Aaah, aaah, aaah," his
 cum splattering against the spigot. My arms wrap around him tightly with
my  hips thrusting fast, like a dog fucking it's bitch. Quick short thrusts,
"Slapslapslap," now, with every nerve ending in my body sparkling out
intense  pleasure, then the apex, the peak of human pleasure as my orgasm
explodes... my climax has my body quivering as cum blows out of my  cock
saturating Pony's bowels... then another stream of cum with red dots  flashing behind
my tightly closed eyes. My teeth clenched, I savor this  spectacular eight
or nine seconds of ecstasy.

Then I'm gasping for  air, my heart pounding, as the world begins spinning
on its axis again. I hear Pony quietly moan  as he drops forward and my arm
fall away from his body. After taking a huge  inhale, reality begins
replacing euphoria. My cock's still hard so I lazily  thrust it back and forth in
his ass watching his shoulders do their little  shudder as he says,
breathlessly, "Feels good... ooh man, that was sooooo  fucking good." Nodding my head
in agreement, but still gulping in air, I  pull my cock out and sit back in
the water watching my cock go limp and sort of  float arrogantly between my
legs as it smugly lets my brain regain dominance  again. Pony slides
around, sitting on his ass, water slushing out of the tub, to  say, "Cool fuck in
hot water, huh?" I nod, muttering, "Nice ass ya got there."  He grins, then
says, "It's over already though. Damn, I wish it lasted longer."  I nod,
"Yeah, I've had that thought myself after climaxing, oh, say five  hundred
times." Rubbing his nose, he mumbles, "You're probably only exaggerating  by
four hundred-and-fifty times." I go, "I was including my early teen
jerk-offs." He chuckles, then goes, "Oh, in that case you've probably  underestimated
by about a thousand." I snort out a laugh, "You're thinking of  your
jerk-off history, not mine."

There's soap scum and  cum floating in the water, so I go, "Let's get out
of the tub and into the  shower stall. We need to wash each other again." We
both stand up and step out  of the tub splashing more water on the floor.

Shaking my head as I'm pulling the  bathtub's stopper, I go, "Balls! We should
probably mop up this water and  wash out the tub first." Without much
conversation that's what we do. It takes  fifteen minutes and requires all the
towels Rob and I own except  the one I save to share with Pony drying
ourselves with after our shower  together. The floor is relatively dry when I pile
up nine sopping-wet bath  towels, plus the two we used earlier and left on
the floor of the shower stall.  I pile them all just inside the bathroom door.

Next I use Lysol Basin Tub  and Tile Cleaner on the tub scrubbing with a
washcloth leaving the bathtub  sparkling clean. Pony watches me do that and
then sarcastically asks, "Should we  scour the kitchen now too, Dylan?" I'm
like, "What? You think I'm overdoing it?"  He shrugs, grinning, "Nah, just
breaking your balls again." He's a good  buddy-sex partner, meaning he really
gets off on the sex, but then it's over and  you move on to something else.

When he said he loved me earlier I was afraid  he'd want to be affectionate
after our sex, but not so. Good for him! People use  the word 'love' way too
much anyway. I loved that grilled cheese sandwich. I  loved that song. I
love that .... fill in the blank. Ya  know?
In the shower we  shampoo each other's hair and then mostly wash ourselves
using soap and our  hands. The exception being we wash each other's genitals
and spunky Daryl  springs another boner but says it's a bit sensitive so we
let it go down on  its own. Rinsing off  until the water becomes lukewarm,
soon to be cool, I turn off the water and  we use the last dry towel in the
apartment to get mostly dry. In the bedroom  Pony goes, "Can I borrow
underpants, Dylan. After a bath and a shower, I'm  clean, dude. Putting on old
underwear just ain't right." I nod, "I hear ya," and  toss him a pair of my
jockey shorts. He goes, "Thanks. You wouldn't happen  to have a clean pair of
sweatpants, would ya?" I toss him sweatpants, a  long-sleeve t-shirt and
sweat socks." As he's getting dressed, he mutters,  "I'll probably keep these
clothes permanently, but after you wash my  dirty clothes that I'm leaving
here, I'd appreciate getting them back." I  go, "Sounds like a logical
assumption from your perspective, Daryl, although one  that probably won't come to
fruition." He chuckles, "Fruition, huh? I'm gonna  look that word up and then
give you a smart-ass comeback." I step into  sneakers, mumbling, "I'll wait
for that with bated breath." We walk out of the  bedroom as he goes, "I'm
looking up the word 'bated' too." I go, "Shakespeare  used the phrase, with
bated breath' in 'The Merchant of Venice'." Pony asks, "Is that rock group?"

I go, "Um, sort of, yeah, in  its time."

Without discussing it,  we both know the night is over as we put on our
coats and head down to the Jeep.  I drive him to the front of his dorm, then a
fist bump is our 'goodbye'  along with, "See ya around campus, dude." I get
a wave and a smile from Pony,  then I drive back to the apartment. I'm
tired, but that was a fun  night with my side-sex buddy. Maybe everyone needs to
have  a side-sex buddy; all of us. A serious lover too of course, one who
you'd  give your life for, and then a playful side-sex friend to relieve
tension or  whatever. Probably only the super-rich can pull that off though.

Their spouses  put up with it in order for them to continue living an opulent
lifestyle.  Yeah, but that makes them whores, right? Sort of, but maybe not. I
 mean if there's true love between the spouses. Oh to hell with it; it's
too  complex a human dilemma for my brain, plus I'm not expecting anyone I
know  to become super rich... so ya know...

I'm in the bathroom  looking around, satisfied the place sparkles, but this
big pile of wet towel  might raise some questions. Hmmm, looking at my
watch: it's almost eleven  o'clock. Well, I never did do my laundry so I dump
everything out of the hamper  and put the wet towels in it to carry them to
the basement laundromat. Huh,  the fucking lights are off in the basement.

That's a first. After enduring  a few scary minutes in the pitch-black
basement, I find the light switch and  them load the towels in the larger of the two
washing machines. The towels  overload the machine but so what? I dump in
some detergent put three dollars in  the machine's money slot and turn it on.

The towels aren't dirty, or hardly  dirty, so this will work okay. I wait
for the machine to fill with water, then  listen for it to start cleaning.

It's laboring a little, but this is the  heavy-duty washing machine so it'll
do the job. Carrying the hamper back  upstairs I put the dirty clothes I
dumped-out back in the hamper and carry it  back to the basement. On the way I
tell myself, 'Numb-nuts, why'd you dump  the clothes out and put the towels
in the hamper? Why not take the hamper down  and put the dirty clothes in the
washing machine, then fill the hamper with the  wet towels?' Who knows why
we do dumb things?
I get the second  machine paid for and running, then it's back upstairs
where I drop the  hamper inside the front door and turn-on the TV. The fourth
quarter of the Packers/Eagle Sunday  Night Football game's just started, so
I plop down on the sofa and watch  that. I'm sort of  watching it while
thinking how odd it is that after spending these  past hours with Daryl my
thoughts are totally on Rob now. Buddy sex  with Daryl is like lite beer compared
to my sex with Rob, which I'll say is  like champagne. Yeah,  except that's
a shitty analogy because I don't like champagne. How about this: buddy sex
with Daryl is  like a Volkswagen Beetle, at about $18,000, as compared to
sex with Robby  that for me is like a Maserati Gran Turiso Convertible, at
about $147,000. And  that's not disrespecting Daryl because I like VW Beetles,
they're cool little  cars, but if I had my choice I'll go with the Maserati
convertible and have the  Beetle as a back-up for when the Maserati is in
for service. Yeah, but  that's still a harsh comparison, and doesn't do
justice to Pony. I'm too tired for  metaphors anyway. Daryl's a really good
buddy-sex partner, but buddy-sex can't  compare with the real thing, and I'll
leave it at that.

The football game ends  with the Eagles winning on a Hail Mary,
forty-eight-yard pass. I chuckle 'cause  I've never cared for the Green Bay Packers.

Putting on a coat I go out on the  balcony for a smoke. New England's weather
can get really cold the last  couple of day in November, so no use bitching
about that, but the fucking  wind tonight is uncalled for! Well, this
unpleasant weather is what smokers need  to put up with if we want a cigarette.

Someone told me that say twenty or  twenty-five years ago when you finish your
dinner at, let's say the Ritz, you  could light up a cigarette to smoke
with your coffee, and fuck the  diners at the next table who were just served
their entrees. Ha ha ha,  oh man, those must have been the days with an
ashtray on every table. Like the  wild, wild west or something. Flicking my
cigarette butt about forty feet  into the night, I'm thinking, 'Damn, why can't I
do that when I'm with  someone?'
Down to the basement I  go and, yes!  Both washing machines have done their
job, so I haul out  the wet clothes and towels putting everything in the
two dryers, pay  the exorbitant fee for each machine and hit the 'ON' button.

Both  dryers begin turning the clothes. Good!  Back upstairs in the
apartment I  watch a 'Breaking Bad' episode on AMC... The next thing I know I almost
fall off  the sofa. What the fuck?  Looking at my wristwatch I'm startled
to see it's  five minutes of six on a fuckin' Monday morning! Oh balls.

Getting up I  wash my face at the kitchen sink and head for the basement. First
folding the  dry towels, then folding what seems like six million pieces of
clothing, I  carry the big pile of towels to the apartment and, on my way
back down to get  the folded clothes, a neighbor is heading out to work. A
middle age  man with a severely receding hairline gives me a smile as he says,
"Well,  you college boys are up and at 'em early." I nod, mumbling, "Not
really, I'm just getting in from a frat party." He laughs, muttering,  "Liar,"

and he's off for a day of tedium at some desk job. Carrying the pile of
folded clothing upstairs, I'm thinking, 'a tedious desk job?' Is that what
Rob's got to look forward to all his life? Then going into the  apartment I
realize that Robby's part owner of Dickers & Son Inc. and he'll  be the full
owner when his dad passes on to the great unknown. That's different  than a
tedious desk job. He'll be the boss!
I leave the pile of  clothes on the sofa, too tired to put them away. As
I'm undressing the bed looks  so inviting. A quick stop in the bathroom for
this and that, then into bed and  right to sleep. This time the next thing I
know is I wake-up to a cloudy day  with tiny little snowflakes coming down
outside the bedroom window. It's not  quite December and already our first
snow of the year. Balls! I don't  care for snow. I feel pretty good though, and
why wouldn't I? I mean, it's  almost eleven-thirty. That's a good night's
rest, especially if I include  my sofa-sleeping time. I'm certainly clean
enough, so I get dressed and do  some bathroom necessities. As I'm walking out
of the bathroom I hear the  front door close. Rob!
Another Monday  morning, but this is the first one where I haven't seen Rob
for five days.  Telling myself not to overdo it, I walk down the hall with
a welcoming smile on  my face and, even if I do say so myself, I have a
killer smile. Then it  fades when I see Rob staring at his cellphone frowning to
beat the  band. "Rob, what is it? What's wrong?" He looks up at me, and
mutters, "Dylan,  that Frankie bitch says she's pregnant and I'm the...."


To be continued...  Donny Mumford    thinat20@yahoo.com

donnymumforf@outlook.com

========================================================

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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