Date: Sun, 26 Aug 2012 18:38:48 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: OLIVER'S ADVENTURES  Chapter 12   (The Roommate I)          by Donny Mumford

			    OLIVER'S ADVENTURES


		       Chapter 12  (The Roommate I)

			     by Donny Mumford



Driving back from Frankie's I feel both fabulous and sad at the same time.
Fabulous because Frankie and me finally have an agreement about us; two
actually. For one, we're best buds, and spit swapping best buds at
that. And two, Frankie said we can do gay sex if as long as he's the one
getting his dick sucked or the one doing the fucking. He claims he's not
gay, but he can bend the rules as long as I'm the one getting fucked or
doing the oral sex on him. He's the boy in our relationship and I'm the
girl, sorta like that. It's ludicrous, but fine by me if Frankie wants to
rationalize it that way. To get us off and running, he fucked me twice this
afternoon and it was fantastic, so there a reason right there I have this
feeling fabulous. The reason I'm feeling sad is because the earliest I'll
see Frankie again is two or three weeks from now. It's probably stupid to
love someone to the degree I love him, but there doesn't seem to be
anything I can do about, which I don't want to anyway. I'm pretty sure
Frankie said he loves me too. That was during our tearful farewell. Mostly
my tears, but Frankie said he felt like crying too.  It's part of growing
up I guess, learning to deal with separations and disappointments. I tell
myself, 'Toughen up, Oliver!'  And a good place to start showing some
toughness would be to avoid crying again, which I feel like doing.  For
Christ sake, I'm much too old to be crying everytime something isn't going
the way I want.

Pulling into into a shopping center's and park, I get out to have a
cigarette and try chilling.  Saying goodbye is a bitch. Love hurts, don't
let anybody tell you differently.  Damn! I know I'm going to miss him so
much. I can still smell Frankie on my arms from hugging him around his neck
and I can taste his saliva and I can feel some of his wetness on my bottom
from the second time he did me.  I bet I have a wet spot on the seat of my
favorite cargo shorts right now. Maybe I'll hide these so Mom can't wash
them.  Ha ha, I'll wear them at college with Frankie's dried cum making
them stiff.  Oh, fuck! I love him so much I feel dizzy, or maybe it's the
cigarette.The dizziness makes me feel sick to my stomach so I try dry
heaving, but nothing happens except a man in a car three parking spots away
stares at me.  He probably thinks I'm drunk and I almost wish I was.
Emotionally exhausted is what I am and a nap would be nice.  A few tears
drip out of my eyes and it's damn embarrassing to be so emotional.  Drying
my eyes on my arm again, and when that doesn't work, I pull my cum-stained
T-shirt up to use it too.  My tears dry up and I chastising myself again
for being such a baby; nineteen year old guys don't act like this.  One
last wipe with the back of my forearm and I get back in the Mini and a
minute later I'm into traffic again. Now I feel totally beat-up and the
traffic's heavy so the drive takes longer than usual.  When I get home I
find the house mercifully empty and what a pleasant surprise that is.
Crashing on the couch until some time later my mom wakes me for dinner. Mom
and dad have concerned looks on their faces, asking me if I'm okay; I
didn't even hear them come home.  I assure them I'm fine as I back out of
the room and hustled up to my room to change my cum stained shorts before
dinner; guess I looked guilty or something.

After dinner we load the SUV with my clothes, computer, TV, books and lots
of other stuff, some of it stuff my parents insist I take with me; totally
unnecessary and dorky things.  For example, a big pile of big, fat, fluffy
towels.  No one else in college has big fluffy towels, but with my
seriously misguided parents it's best to just endure the madness. It's a
burden on me, but they have plenty of good qualities too, but unfortunately
being cool is not among them.  After a good nights sleep we start out very
early in the morning.  It's a five hour drive for me in the Mini, but my
parents will take somewhat longer. Thankfully I get to drive my car, and
they get to drive their SUV.  That works out nicely, thank you very much.
Actually, me driving to college is a major big deal and initially I didn't
think I'd be allowed.  Freshman living in dorms aren't normally permitted
to have a car on campus.  I sidestepped that technicality by applying for
an "Assistance-Group" exception, was accepted and got a sticker to park my
car on campus. The "Assistance Group" is a very old official campus
organization with a mission of providing free assistance to incoming
freshman.  I'm now a member of this do-gooder group which makes me an
'Ass. Group' for short, or 'Ass. kissing Group', as member of the student
body sometime refer to us. Being a member is an easy way to get two credits
each year toward your degree, but you normally have to kiss some falculty
member's ass to get admitted.  I didn't even know about that when I
applied, I just wanted a parking pass for my car.

The Ass. Group members are asked to assist in any one of a hundred ways.
Maybe I'll be an aid to someone who needs help getting around, a student on
crutches perhaps or a blind student, God forbid.  Or maybe I'll have to
chauffeur someone to doctors appointment or anything really, hell, I don't
know. If a student needs assistance, I'm their boy. I don't know that much
about it because I didn't read all the material they sent me.  I also have
no idea why I was admitted to the group, not that I really care.  I've
never been much of a joiner, but I really needed to have the car with me.
How else would I get to see Frankie and the twins and Alexander and stuff
like that?  So, no problem dude, sign my ass up for whatever. The
University of Pennsylvania is inside the city limits of Philadelphia so
there aren't any rolling hills or expansive lawns on campus.  There's a lot
of cement and black-top and a lot of brick and ivy-covered old buildings.
Even without beautiful grounds, and even though I had that unique getting
lost with Ryjohn experience in the nearby projects last Spring, I still
like the intercity atmosphere.  The energy and excitement of big city life,
plus the atmosphere of a major Ivy League university all wrapped-up
together.  I liked everything about it right from the first time I was
here.

After arriving on campus I need to wait forty-five minutes for my dad and
mom to arrive.  Dad drives agonizingly slow.  Pretending I recently arrived
myself, I tell dad, "I haven't had time to scope out the reception and
admissions area, but I believe it's down this street so just follow me".
Mom smiles proudly at me, but my Dad makes a face like he know I'm full of
it, and of course I am.  I had plenty of time to drive around and find-out
where we should go.  Registering is extremely tedious; that's the best
thing I can say about it.  We won't be starting classes for two days, but
there are orientation meetings that freshman must attend. That still leaves
a lot of free time for me to get reacquainted with the campus.  As part of
registration I'm assigned my dormitory building and my room, so off we go
to have a look at my room and unpack the cars.  When we get there I'm
pleased with both the dorm I in and the room.  I immediately think about
Cristobal's dorm from last spring and right off it's apparent how much
better my dormitory is than his.  Better because my dormitory is centrally
located near all the main classroom areas, dining rooms, recreation
facilities etc.  But, by far, the number one reason my dorm is better is it
has a private bathroom for each of the rooms on the first floor.  And, my
room's on the first floor.  No waiting for elevators, but much more
importantly, no community bathing and shitting and such.  On the wall next
to the front door a three by five card has been taped.  On it, written in
big block letters, "NICKERSON/GALLO".  I now knew the name of my roommate,
but that's all I know about him.

Like all the dorm rooms ours has twin beds, two desks and a bookcase.  Our
bathroom is odd because it has all those fat chrome bars for a handicapped
person, maybe my roommate is handicapped.  I hope not for his sake, and for
my sake too.  Dad and mom look at the room and say, "Small, isn't it?"  I
give them an annoyed look because they just don't get it.  We move my stuff
in from the cars without much sweat.  Jeez, I wonder if the luck of getting
this dorm is just another part of the lucky streak I've been on lately.
It's awesome.  We finish unloading and still no sign of my roommate so off
we go to eat.  I'm starved. We have lunch off campus and then tour the
University grounds, endlessly it seem, but finally my parents are ready to
head back home and by then I'm quite anxious for them to be on their way.
I tell them it's best to get back home before dark because dad doesn't like
driving at night.  The goodbye was quick, just some awkward hugs and
kisses.  My brother Christian left home, and now me, so I do feel really
bad for my folks as they're leaving, honestly I did.  The bottom line is
that they're wonderful, caring parents, but I want desperately to be on my
own.  Plus, I had that "Ass Kissing Group" meeting at three o'clock in the
library.  The folks pull away waving goodbye with one hand and wiping at
their eyes with the other.  When they turn at the corner I breathe a sigh
of relief and head for the library and my meeting.  I'm anxious to get this
group nuisance over with and I'm dying for a cigarette. The folks don't
know about my recently acquired nasty habit, but a college student should
smoke, don't ya think.  Fortunately Frankie had taught me how, more or
less.

Puffing away while walking toward the library I can't help but hope my luck
holds up as far as any kind of Group assignment goes.  I'd much rather just
be on call, assuming they have something like that.  And, of course, I'm
still worried about my roommate.  This has been an area of concern for me
on and off all summer.  The dread of getting an asshole for a roommate is
huge.  I have no choice in the matter of course.  Freshman year we have a
roommate assigned, period.  I filled out a questionnaire about my likes and
dislikes so they do try to match kids up with similar interest when
possible.  That questionnaire is okay as far as it goes, but it doesn't
address the asshole factor so I still need to get lucky.  First the great
dorm room and now, please, a great roommate. There are only twenty Freshman
in the "Ass kisser Group" each year so it's kind of an exclusive group.
This year all but three of the members are girls.The falculty member in
charge says everyone is going to get some kind of assignment so obviously
I'm going to have to do more than be on call like I was hoping for.  An
older no nonsense woman with a hairy mole on her chin passes out these
assignments and gives instructions with each one.  As each kid gets their
assignment he or she goes on their way.  Finally it's just me and the old
lady.  She says, "Okay, well you must be Oliver Nickerson.  Right?"  I nod
my head and she goes on to explain that my assignment entails the biggest
commitment of this semester, a big responsibility.  I smile, nod my head
again, thinking, "Oh shit!".

My roommate is my assignment.  He's a boy in a wheelchair who'd been in a
car accident and I was to be his care giver. The lady said I'd received
this assignment because I'm the only one out of all the kids who applied
for admission to the group that checked off the 'yes' space on the
application for, 'able to provide extensive care giving'.  Well hell, I'd
checked every block because I was desperate to bring my Mini Cooper to
college and getting in this god damn Ass Kissing Group was my only hope.  I
mean, what are the odds some Freshman's going to need nursing care?  God
damnit!  I have no luck. Calming myself I realize that if I want to stay in
the program this wheelchair kid is my baby.  Plus, thinking about it, how
much assistance could he need?  Well, quite a bit I find out as the lady,
with me staring at the mole, goes on to explain.  For one thing, he needs
to be fed because both his elbows were broken in the accident.  They're in
hard casts.  He also has a broken kneecap which is the reason for the
wheelchair.  Hmmmm, now that I re-think this, it does sound like a lot of
trouble. On the other hand, I rationalize, how long does it take for bones
to heal, six weeks or so?  I get to keep my car the entire year no matter
if my duties are completed in six days or six months.  The mole lady
confirms this will be my only commitment for the year.  What the hell, it
could have been worse I guess, but still I want to kick myself in the ass
for checking off every freaking block on the application.  I hadn't even
read them, just put a check in each one.  Well, anyway now I know why I was
accepted in the group so quickly.

Walking over to my dorm it dawns on me that the fabulous dorm and room
location are undoubtedly a result of wheelchair boy too.  It had nothing to
do with my luck.  Right, if it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at
all.  I'm feeling sorry for myself again.  Please dear God, don't let this
wheelchair kid be a fatso or a ball buster or a dick head.  Six weeks of
being a primary care giver is starting to seem like a bigger deal with each
step I take toward my dorm.  I light up another cigarette nervously,
worrying about the mess I'd gotten myself into this time.  My needy
wheelchair roommate should be in the room by now for sure. I'll soon know
what kind of kid I have to deal with.  It doesn't take me long to walk to
the dorm and I'm kinda nervous when I get there so I stand outside and have
yet another cigarette, wishing my brother was around.  Just to pump up my
confidence and give me some advise, not for anything sexy.  Finally, I go
in the front door of the dorm and take two steps to my left and, ta da, my
room, convenient.  The card with our two names printed in block letters is
still there.  Popping a couple of breath mints I stare at his name, GALLO.
Italian? My hand on the door knob, ready to turn it with trepidation,
thinking, 'Good guy or asshole?'  I open the door slightly and hear the
unmistakable sound of a long rumbling fart. What the hell?  Sticking my
head tentatively around the edge of the door and there sits this bean pole
of a kid in a wheelchair, leaning to one side with one buttocks lifted off
the seat straining out this five or six second fart.  He doesn't see or
hear me because his concentration is totally fixated on that fart.  His
eyes and mouth squeeze tightly shut as the motorboat sounding fart rumbles
out of his asshole.  As the first fart runs-down he takes in a big breath
and forces out a short blast of followup flatulence and then relaxes
against the back of his chair, a look of relief on his face.  I continue to
stare with my mouth hanging open as the fart cloud envelopes me and that
horrid sulfur/fart smell overwhelms my senses.  I go, "Holy shit, gross!".

The bean pole whips his head around with a face as red as an apple, and
says, "I'm so sorry, but it's a condition I have.  Are you Oliver?  Where
ya been, man? I need to go to the bathroom bad!"  I stutter, "We wel well
then, ga go ahead and go."  I say that as my brain is trying to make sense
of the situation.  He has a cast on both arms that covered the lower part
of his bicep, his elbow, and the upper half of his forearms.  There's a
short metal rod connecting between the cast on each forearm to a
contraption on his chest that hangs over his shoulders.  The cast are set
so that his arms bend in toward each other.  I find out later this is to
allow him to use his lap top computer, but that's all it allows him to do.
The rods prevent any other movement of his arms.  He has no way to touch
his head, or his crotch, or his back side.  My brain goes, "Oh, noooo...."
The kid has a humiliated look on his face when I'd stuttered, "Go ahead"
and he mumbles, "I can't go by myself.  You need to help me."  I think,
'Well obviously you're fucked over good this time, Oliver.  Poo poo boy
looks so pathetic though I take pity on him and say, "Oh yeah, sorry. I
wasn't thinking."  I roll his wheelchair into the bathroom which, as I
said, is all set up for a handicapped individual, but not for the way my
roommate's handicapped.  He can hobble up off the chair on his one good leg
and collapse on the toilet seat, but he can't pull down his pants, aim his
dick, or wipe himself when he does a poop.  Can't pull his pants up when
he's done either.  I feel sorry for the kid, but this whole deal seems like
it's way more than just assisting someone who needs a little help.  This
seems like a fucking full time job that should be undertaken by someone
who's trained for it.  I'm mumbling to myself various things along those
lines, when he says, "Please, I'm going to pee my pants.  Help me get on
the toilet. "  I'm like, "Oh..yeah" and I awkwardly try to help him over to
the toilet, him hopping on one leg.  I pull down his pants with one hand
and with the other hold him around his waist so he can balance himself on
that one good leg.  Then, with his pants down, I lower him to the toilet
seat.

He immediately starts to pee but it's firing off to the side and some of
the piss spray begins coming out between the rim of the toilet and the
toilet seat.  "Oh, you need to adjust my penis, please....".  I go "Huh?"
and then "Oh, yeah" and reaching down I straightened it out so the piss
stream hits the inside of the toilet bowl.  What the fuck, I decide to hold
onto his dick till he's done his pee.  Nice dick, uncut, about six and a
half inches inches long.  Then another hissing sounding fart from bean
poll's ass, followed by a long poop.  "Fuck!"  I grunt, as I walk out of
the bathroom.  I hear a pathetic, "I'm really sorry" behind me. Well, this
sucks!  I put my head out the front door for some fresh air.  Jesus, how am
I ever going to do this?  In less than a minute I hear, "I'm done, Oliver."
Reluctantly I go back in the bathroom and see him trying his best to twist
around and bend down at the same time, hoping to flush the toilet by
hitting the lever with the bottom part of his elbow cast.  I say, "What the
fuck?' and push the lever to flush the offensive material away forever.
"I'm sorry" he says again.  All I can do is shake my head while helping him
lean into me, balanced on his one leg again, and using a lot of toilet
paper, I wipe his ass three times with him grimacing and grunting,
undoubtedly because of the rash in his buttock crack.  Flushing the toilet
a second time and pulling up his pants I guide him to sit back in the
wheelchair.  As I'm washing my hands I hear.  "Thank you so much, Oliver.
I really had to go."  I say, "It's nothing. Chill, dude."  Pushing him back
to our room I'm thinking, 'Okay, what the hell, at least let me take the
time to look him over and maybe get some fun out of this.  I've been a boy
watcher since I was about ten years old.  Love to look for cute aspects in
a guy's face. Hey, wouldn't it be a pisser if he's gay?'

Back in our room now, he sits there in his wheelchair staring at me as I
sit in a desk chair evaluating his looks.  Skinny as a bean poll, like I
said and he isn't as tall as I initially thought, probably not much taller
than me.  Olive complexion with dark blue eyes and dark brown shaggy hair.
A few minor, random pimples on his chin.  His nose is definitely going to
be too big if it continues to grow, but for now, it being a little too big
for his face struck me as kind of cute.  He's very young and innocent
looking.  Hard to believe he's even old enough to go to college. I guess
overall he's handsome, but his face is unremarkable in any one particular
area.  Everything went together okay.  Actually, on second thought, his
eyes do qualify as remarkable after all.  They're not only big and a very
dark blue, but they shine with a lot of warmth.  Narrow, dark eyebrows over
fairly long black eyelashes.  Now that I looked more closely, he has
stunning looking eyes.  He has an obvious humble way about him too, sitting
there patiently with an open look on his face, his lips slightly parted,
and brilliantly white teeth too. What the hell, he seems very likable.  I
decide I'll stick it out and help him as best I can, and it might be fun
giving him a bath, for example.  See, sometimes I can be an optimist.

"What's your name, dude?" I asked.  "Joey Gallo.  Weren't you expecting
me?"  I explain I'd seen his last name on the card outside our door, but
that I'd just now come directly from the Ass. Group meeting where I'd been
informed I'd be taking care of him. Pointing at the file on the desk that
I'd carried in with me, I say, "I haven't had a chance to read about you
yet.  I've known about you, in a general sense, for the last ten minutes,
that's all".  He tells me he's read some about me from the paperwork he
received earlier.  He wants to know if I'd run into his mother who went off
looking for me some time ago.  Apparently she'd been under the impression I
was to be here at one o'clock taking over Joey's care from her, I suppose.
Looking puzzled, I say, "I can't imagine where she got that idea. I wasn't
even assigned to care for you until about three-thirty. Hell, the meeting
wasn't until three o'clock." He shakes his head and sort of sighs saying,
"My mother can be problematic at times, very stern too, and pushy even.
She scares some people to tell ya the truth."  Then he does a small,
nervous, pretend laugh and averts his eyes.  I do my pretend cough. He goes
on to tell me she'd been to see her plastic surgeon earlier in the day and
gotten her regular treatment of Botox injections so her face is stiff and
sore which just adds to the frustration she always seems to feel.  He says,
"Life is a challenge for mother, or maybe life in general just pisses her
off.  Me being in this condition just about put her over the top. I know
she's thrilled I'll be out of her hair now, and into yours."  Joey looks up
at me with a worried look as soon as he said that.  He wants to see if I'd
be upset, I guess.  I give him a half hearted smile.

He speaks in a quiet voice, not so much shy as humble, like I mentioned
earlier.  As much as his words, his demeanor, you know, his body language,
the way he speaks and his sincere expression make me realize how vulnerable
he must feel, and how very dependent on me, a total stranger, he is. For
some reason, a strange nurturing feeling comes over me and now I actually
want to protect him and take care of him.  I feel even worse for him when
he tells me about his accident, which happened almost a month ago.  He'd
been driving his Mustang convertible with his best friend riding shotgun.
They were goofing around, not paying enough attention and their car rear
ends a UPS truck that pulled out in front of them.  It caused Joey's car to
swerve out of control crashing into a fire hydrant.  Neither of the boys
were wearing their seat belts.  Joey flew out of the car, hitting his head
on the top of the windshield and landing unconscious on his elbows and one
knee, all three joints were cracked.  He also has internal injuries when
his gut connected with the steering wheel on his unfortunate trip over the
windshield.  This is causing him some bloating and blockage, hence a lot of
farting.

When his best friend flew out of the car and landed on the pavement he
broke his neck and died instantly.  Joey begins crying when he told me
that, and thinking about Tyler I get up to try and console him.  Joey
doesn't want to be comforted though.  Blubbering now, "No, please, it's
alright.  I'm dealing with it myself, internally.  I'd rather have it that
way.  Mostly it was the worst fucking bad luck just a fucking fraction of a
second difference in the speed of my car or the speed of the UPS truck and
we don't even touch.  Eric, by friend, was doing some grab ass with me and
I took my eyes off the road for a second and the shit hit the fan, so ta
speak.  I can't put into words how sorry I am about it all.  I wish to God
I could tell Eric that."  Joey gave me more details as his crying dies
down. Its horrifically sad.  Youthful deaths are the hardest to get over I
think.  Not only my personal failure to deal with Tyler's ridiculous
accident, but all the other heartbreaking stories everyday on the news
about some young kid getting kidnapped or raped or murdered or killed in
some kind of accident; our's is a scary and dangerous world!  The
heartbreak and heartache can be beyond words, Joey's right about that. I
light up another cigarette because it's stressful listening to this.  Joey
says, "Oh my God, can I have a drag?"  We share the cigarette with me
taking a drag and then holding it up to Joey's lips for him to take one
too.  He lips the filter with each drag and I taste his saliva while
thinking about Frankie's spit, and my dick starts to get hard.

Then, all of a sudden, I'm thinking, 'Joey and Eric are grab ass buddies?
Hmmm, gay?'  Oh man, I know this is just wrong.  Sometimes I hate how
insensitive I can be.  I hit my forehead to try and get my brain working on
something besides gay sex.  Concentrate on this poor kid and his sorrow and
his sad situation.  And the situation you're in too ya knucklehead, that's
my advise to myself.  Joey's so polite and apparently without an ego, it
gives me a guilty conscience to let my mind wander to sex all the time.
'Try to focus.' I yell at myself in my head, as I put the cigarette out in
the toilet. Just spending the last fifteen minutes with him I can tell that
Joey's the kind of kid that was popular in High School.  Not a leader, but
they'd be very few classmates who would have anything negative to say about
Joey Gallo.  He's real unassuming, a go-along, positive thinking kind of
kid, but very introspective too, although keeping things that trouble him
inside him isn't necessarily a good idea.  Over the next few months he
described his guilty conscience and grief over the death of his friend, but
he was never looking for sympathy, he's a realist about the accident.  Joey
handled his sadness and loss much better than I'd handled mine with Tyler,
but he was a lot older when his accident occurred and therefore more
mature.  None the less, I admire him for moving on in a positive way to the
degree he has, but I learned all that later.  He has a pleasant sounding,
youthful voice and he wants to talk, maybe he's nervous.  I don't mind
listening as I stare at him and marvel at his ever improving looks.  He
tells me he'd been in a gymnastic club with his friend Eric for the past
five years and this past summer he'd been recruited to be on the
University's gymnastic team.  The gymnastics coach and some of his
teammates, to be supportive, emailed Joey when they heard of the accident.
They want Joey to know he's still on the team and they'd be rooting for his
full recovery and stuff like that.  Also, they'd be picking him up each day
for practice even though all he can do right now is observe.  This is
something Joey's very much looking forward to.  He gets excited talking
about the gymnastic stuff and I see his cute little grin for the first
time, sweet.

Shortly Joey Gallo and me really are getting along easily and it's one of
those deals where you feel you've know someone for a while even though you
just met the person.  I'd begun to notice more about the body on this kid
too.  He's a bean poll, but a very fit bean poll.  Well, fuck, a gymnast
with a fit body! Duh! The subtle muscle definition I can see in his
otherwise thin arms and legs, the parts not hidden inside the plaster
casts, is eye candy to me and it's intriguing to think of the rest of his
body.  I start thinking more and more about that bath I'll need to give him
when the door bangs open behind me and in comes Mrs Gallo, and she's not
happy.  Joey cheerfully says, "Hello, Mother".  Ignoring Joey, she points
at me and with a snarl in her voice, asking, "Are you the Nickerson boy?"
I nod and stand up as I'm saying.  "Yes, Ma'am.  Oliver Nickerson.  Nice to
meet you."  Mrs Gallo is a tallish woman with a red, sharp featured
face. Because of her reddish hair and rather pointed face, my first
impression is that she looks like a woodpecker.  Joey obviously takes after
his father's side of the family, or else he's adopted.  Mrs Gallo stand
stiffly very straight as she lectures me, "I've wasted half the afternoon
looking for you and I can't tell you how frustrated I am at this moment.
You were very late getting here and that's a big problem because I have no
intention of leaving the care of my invalid son to someone who isn't
dependable and ...."  At that point Joey cut her off with, "Mother, it
isn't Oliver's fault.  He didn't even know about me till a half hour ago."
Mrs Gallo transfers her stare from me to Joey.  She didn't move her body,
but her eyes go flat and gray likes stones.  With that same snarl in her
voice she'd used on me, she says, "Joseph, don't ever interrupt me when I'm
speaking."  Joey looks away, mumbling, "Sorry, Mother."  She quickly walks
over and sits on Joey's bed muttering something under her breath.
Something about Joey's father that I couldn't quite make out.  It looks as
though she's trying to frown too, but the Botox injections prevent her face
from moving.

Giving up on the frown she turns her attention back to me and demands, "Is
that right?  You just found out about Joseph a half hour ago."  I tell her
exactly what happened at the meeting.  It appears for a moment she doesn't
believe me, but then she says, "Okay".  She tells me she'd give me another
chance, but she clearly isn't happy about things in general.  "Now, about
what you need to do for Joseph", she says, and then, counting off the items
by hitting the palm of her hand with the index finger of her other hand,
and her woodpecker head nodding up and down with each point, she gives me a
detailed list of instructions for the care of Joseph, er, Joey.  She
informs me that Joey and I have the same courses and I'd be responsible for
getting him to class, "On time each and every day, mister".  Also, that he
has medication that needs to be taken precisely at six hour intervals and
his skin under the shoulder braces must be massaged morning and night to
prevent the skin from......  and on and on she goes, but I've stopped
listening.  When she runs our of breath she rummages through her briefcase
and comes up with computer print-outs of the instructions she'd just given
me verbally. Joey looks as if he were in pain all through her recitation.
I'm kind of fascinated at the gall of this bitch. I'm doing them all a
great favor, for free, and she still insists on giving me a bunch of shit
about it. Go figure. Mrs Gallo abruptly gets up off Joey's bed, and says,
"I'm very late due to this screw-up that you two are partially responsible
for."  Joey and I look at each other with expressions on our face like,
"Say what?".  She picks-up the briefcase and her over-sized purse, saying,
"I was going to take you both out for lunch, but that's not possible now.
Running all over the campus looking for you, Arthur, put me way behind
schedule."  Joey and me gave each other that look again.  Arthur?

Mrs Gallo made a face she probably thought was a smile, and goes, "Don't
look so frightened, Arthur, my bark is worse than my bite."  Joey says,
"Excuse me Mother, but it's Oliver."  She tries for a confused look, and
says, " Oliver who, Joseph?"  Then she gives Joey a kiss on the top of his
head that causes her pointed nose to twitch.  Looking at the nose I wonder,
"More plastic surgery?"  She says goodbye and warns us she'll be checking
up on us, we could count on that.  The last thing from Mrs Gallo is
directed at me, "Joseph needs his hair shampooed, and I mean today, Arthur.
I suggest you get to work on that right now.  Don't fuck-up boys!  I'll be
watching."  The door slams behind her.  Joey looks over at me shrugging his
shoulders, "I'm really sorry 'bout that, Oliver.  We can pick our nose, but
we can't pick our family."  I'm glad to see Joey can make a joke out of his
mother's bizarre behavior. Keeping it light, I mumble, "Well actually
Joseph, at the moment you can't pick your nose either.  You're double
fucked, dude" He has a nice laugh and it makes me smile at him.  "Do you
want your hair shampooed?" I asks.  Joey said he'd like that very much.
His mother, he tells me, can't abide doing anything that involves touching
a dirty part of the human body, unless the human body is hers.  "Mother
hired a nurses aid to come in twice a day for three hours each morning and
evening to take care of my hygiene concerns," Joey explains, "But the poor
old woman she hired didn't have her heart in the job at all.  She sucked at
it, actually".  I go, "Extremely awkward situation," and Joey sums it up,
"My humiliation was great the first week or so, but what could I do?
Bodily functions don't care if I'm humiliated or not."  I ask how much
longer for the hard casts and he tells me the bad news, ten more weeks.  I
mutter, "Fuck.  Let's not think about it though. We'll go in the bathroom
for a shampoo and then dinner at the University's dining hall #3.  Okay?"
"Thanks, Oliver.  Someday I'll pay you back, man, I promise you!"  I
mumble, "Sure you will."

As I'm pushing his wheelchair into the bathroom, he tells me how the old
nurse did the shampoo routine with him.  She put a chair up against the
sink, leaning it back with the front legs off the floor; Joey sits in the
chair facing away from the sink, his head over the sink.  So, using his
desk chair, that's what we do except I fold a hand towel to put under his
neck for comfort.  "Hey, that's nice, Oliver. Wonder why the old nurse
never thought of that."  I mumble, "No fucking idea, sport."  This being a
handicapped appointed bath, there are a number of extra items available and
one of them is rubber tubing with a shower nozzle on one end; the other end
gets attached to the spigot. I use that to wet and rinse Joey's hair, which
works fine except his shirt is soaked before we're done. This is my first
time though, and it'll get better as I learn from experience. Funny, but I
don't mind shampooing his dirty hair; I like boys quite a lot, even
straight boys. There's only about a ten percent chance Joey's gay if I can
believe the estimates of gay/straight ratio; the one for us in the animal
kingdom. Straight or gay, he's still a boy and I'm fond of boys so
shampooing his hair is kind of fun for me. I like touching boys, their
hair, bodies, whatever. It makes me think of Alexander who works with guys'
hair every day as his profession, cutting and shampooing guys hair, and
getting paid for it too.  Shampooing Joey's hair also makes me feel good
because I'm helping him. Wetting his hair and running my fingers through
it, then massaging in the shampoo and working the thick suds through his
hair gets to be a little sexy and I discover it's a bit of a turn on
messing with his hair. This primary care thing might work out much better
then I thought. When I've shampooed and rinsed his hair, I use the
hairdryer that's provided, combing through his full head of hair as I dry
it. Yep, this is really sexy. Joey can't thank me enough too, which is an
added bonus because I'm enjoying myself. Joey says this is the first time
his hair has been this clean since the accident. Makes me feel real good.

Getting him a dry shirt I discover he's got a supply of specially made
shirts that zipper up both sides and under both short sleeves.  The front
half and the back half of the shirt are connected at the mock turtle neck
and across the top of the shoulders and sleeves.  When I unzip both sides
of his shirt I merely slip it over his head. With his arms in a cast I
couldn't get a regular shirt on him. Never realized how complicated things
can get. Anyway, I pull his wet shirt over his head and whoa!  Joey's got
himself a hot torso. It's tight, smooth and hairless with awesome
definition, but I shouldn't be surprise, him being a gymnast.  Still, I
can't help staring at his sexy body. Then, realizing he's looking at me
staring at him, I do a fake cough and look away. Oh man, I don't believe
I've ever seen a body this toned and I don't mean it's the body builder
type, they can look freaky. Joey's body's not gaudy with muscles, just
excellent definition. He's no bean poll like I initially thought. Even just
sitting in the chair his stomach has those small ripples of muscles under
the skin, nice pecs and great biceps, but like I said, not over done at
all. His olive toned skin is so smooth I make sure to touch his bare
shoulder as I'm taking the wet shirt off. Damn, he's hot. Frankie's hot
too, but Frankie and me are the bean poles now that I've seen Joey's body.
What ain't so hot though are his armpits; they reek. Not sexy BO like
Myers, Joey's pits stink in a bad way needing to be washed and
deodorized. I mutter, "Dude, ya ever hear of deodorant?  It's this new
invention ya might want to consider."  Joey looks down and says his
favorite two words, "I'm sorry."  Then he nods his head toward a small
satchel and says, "My toiletries are in the bag over there, but I can't put
deodorant on myself and that nurse didn't do it either. Oliver, I can't do
anything for myself." He sounds frustrated and embarrassed and now don't I
feel like an insensitive prick. I could have used a little tact.

Giving Joey a pat on the shoulder and a smile, I go, "Joey, you're going
get better care from me. Don't hesitate to ask me for anything you need,
we're gonna bond, dude, 'cause I'm gonna take care of you right." He grins,
mumbling, "You're awesome, Oliver, thanks."  I dig his deodorant out from a
number of toiletry items. It's Old Spice Original and has a crisp, clean
scent. Camouflages the BO, but Joey's gonna need a bath soon. He says,
"Thanks. You can't imagine how awkward this is for me, but I already feel
more comfortable with you, Oliver, than I did with anybody else who's took
care of me.  Trying to cover-up my inconsiderate remark, I tell him, "You
know it, Joey.  I was just breaking your balls about the BO, just kidding
with you."  He mutter, "No problem," as I rub his head telling myself,
'This kid is very likable'. Putting one of his specialty shirts over his
head and zipping up both sides, asking, "How we doing, Joey?" and he says,
"You're my hero, man. I mean it. I was so nervous about who'd be my care
giver at college and you're awesome. You're the best hint that's happened
to me since the accident." I ruffled his hair again, that comment made me
feel good. It's a beautiful early evening in Philly as I push Joey's
wheelchair toward dining hall #3.  I'm feeling pretty good about myself and
lucky too. I mean I've got a hot, helpless boy in my care and touching is a
requirement, but I need to be sure I don't take advantage of the situation.
Also, it'll be totally awkward if he knows I gay so I gotta watch myself
with that, at least for the time being I'll need a low gay profile which
might be dicey where Chis is concerned. When we get to the dining hall I
swiped both of our dining hall cards at the desk and in we go.  Mostly only
freshman are on campus at the moment so it isn't very crowded.  Great
looking buffet style food set up and it's smelling real good too. Joey
says, "Yum".  He asks me to get him whatever I get for myself so I settle
him at a table and pile some food on a tray: boneless fried chicken, mashed
potatoes and gravy, sweet cut corn, sweet potato soufflé, and a mixed
salad with Russian dressing. Two of everything plus two glasses of iced tea
and a straw for Joey's glass.

Setting everything on the table it occurs to me I'll need to feed him, duh!
I ask if he minds me using the same fork for both of us.  He's no germ
freak and doesn't mind if I don't, it'll made it simpler feeding both of us
if I don't need to switch forks for every other bite.  A mouthful for me,
and while I'm chewing, I feed Joey a mouthful. Thank God he chews with his
mouth closed, that's one of my pet peeves. Guys that chew with their mouth
open making all those revolting mouth sounds drives me batty, and he chews
with his mouth closed.  We're just two highly cultured boys, using the same
fork, eating our dinner.  I feel the stares from other kids, but Joey's
used to it by now and I'm sure I'll get used to it pretty soon as well.
 Everything's damn tasty and we eat everything on our plates with almost no
talking, just smiles and a few quite burps and one embarrassingly noisy
fart from Joey.  He goes, "Goddamn, I'm sorry Oliver, but I can't control
that."  I mutter, "Don't worry about it.  Fuck the rest of the diners if
they can't take a joke."  Then I point at Joey exaggerating pinching my
nose so nobody will think it was me who farted in dining hall #3.  Joey
laughs, although I don't notice anyone else laughing and that, makes me
laugh shaking my head. Hell, we don't know any of these people.  We enjoy
our dinner which bodes well for future meals. I've heard stories about bad
food in college dining halls, but this seems like the exception. We're both
too full to try the desserts, so I push Joey's wheelchair back to the
room. Outside our dorm Joey asks, "Can I bum a cigarette off you, Oliver?
I'll buy some tomorrow and pay you back. I mumble, "Sure thing, Joey," and
we both smoke a cigarette with me sitting on a bench outside the dorm
sneaking peeks at Joey as I'm holding his cigarette to his lips. I'm
already kind of attached to him and being responsible for him probably has
something to do with that. I've always been kind of a responsible teenager,
but it's also Joey, he's very likable as I said earlier. He's hot too, so
that don't hurt. Leaning over I rub his hair again, nice hair, and he grins
at me. Damn!

Almost done our cigarettes, I ask about a bath and Joey says he'd been
trying to work-up the nerve to ask me to help him with one.  He hasn't had
a bath in three days.  "Well Joey, tonight's your lucky night; one bath
coming up."  In a serious manner, he tells me this already has been his
lucky day because I'm his roommate. Sweet! I smile rubbing his hair
again. Getting ready to go inside I see a familiar Mini Cooper convertible
coming down the street and I know who the height-challenged driver is too.
I really want to talk to him so I wave and whistled and the driver looks
over once, then does a double take and pulls over to the curb about twenty
yards down from me.  I shout, "Davis, how ya doing, dude? I'll be right
over."  He waves back and then gives me the finger.  Laughing, I push Joey
into our room telling him I'd only be a minute.  He wants to sit at his
desk so he can go on line and check his emails.  I get him situated and
then run out to talk with Davis Moore, who was Cristobal's roommate from
last year, and maybe this year too for all I know.  I'd emailed Cristobal a
number of times, but they all came back as 'Undeliverable'.  Anxious for
news of Cristobal, but first Davis and I do the handshake, one arm hug
thing as Davis goes, "Oliver, great to see ya again, How's the ankle?" I
go, "Well, I sprained the ankle six months ago and it's been fine for the
last five months and three weeks.  How many new tattoos did ya get over the
summer?"  Davis has more tattoos on his five foot, three inch body body
than makes sense, but there it is. We do some small talk, and then I ask,
"You rooming with Cristobal again?"  Davis has a concerned expression on
his face, asking, "Didn't Cristobal get in touch with you the entire
summer?"  I shrug, shaking my head. Davis explains that Cristobal is taking
a year off to attend an art institute in France. He adds, "Yeah, he fell
love with, with um, Paris. He'd hesitated before saying, 'Paris'.
Obviously he was going to say, 'A boy in France', or something like that,
but he didn't want to hurt my feelings, so he changed it.

I mutter, "Oh..., um, jeez.  I'm kinda disappointed.  Ya know, because, ah,
you know, the last thing Cristobal said to me was, 'Don't forget me,
Oliver'.  I sure didn't forget him, but I guess he forgot me ."  Davis
squeezes my arm, saying, "I can't lie to you, Oliver, there's someone he
fell for there.  Cris has too many boyfriends for his own good.  Don't take
it personally and, hell, you probably have to beat the cute guys off with a
stick.  If I were gay I'd be on your doorstep right now."  Davis couldn't
have been nicer, but damn, I feel my eyes stinging.  I hate that I do the
wet eye thing so easily.  I do my fake cough wiping my eyes with my forearm
and sort of turn my head doing another fake cough.  Davis saw me with the
tears though, and mutters, "Damn that Cristobal.  He emailed me in July
that he'd fallen for this art student in Paris and he'd dropped out of the
tour to be with the guy.  He promised me he'd send you an email explaining
he wouldn't be here this semester. You know, Oliver, Chris is a great
friend, but he falls in and out of love every month. You deserve someone
more dependable. Hell, he screwed me too because I had to scramble around
for another roommate."  I've heard enough, I don't need anymore
explanation, I just want to drop it.  Even so, I find myself babbling to
Davis, "Cristobal and me sang together on Mall Street, do you remember,
Davis?  Cris said he got more money in his hat when we sang together than
he'd ever gotten alone.  I was hoping we'd do the singing again.  Hell, I
memorized the words to a couple of the songs Cris sang last spring.  The
last thing he said to me that last morning we had together was he hoped I
wouldn't forget him, but I already told you that, didn't I? " Davis looks
uncomfortable, but he's very nice and just mumbles, "I think ya did, yeah.
Cristobal is the original free-spirit, Oliver.  He doesn't realize he hurts
people as he goes through his privileged life, but he actually doesn't have
a mean bone in his body.  He just doesn't think things through all the
time.  Don't think too badly of him.  He means the things he says when he
says them, and then someone new comes along.  I know he thought you and he
had a very special time together.  He told me that.  He was very taken with
you, he really was" I'm doing a little pouting, surprised I'm so beat up
about this. I shrug, muttering, "The key word is 'was; he was very taken
with me.  Great to see ya, Davis.  I gotta go 'cause I'm taking care of
that kid in the wheelchair you saw me with back there."  He pats my back
and we tell each other we'll get together soon and have a beer.  Maybe we
actually will get together, but I doubt it.  Davis is totally straight and
whenever I see him I'll be reminded of Cristobal and my first real love, or
at least what I thought was real love at the time.  Davis drives his Mini
Cooper away with a wave.  His Mini's the reason I got my Mini and I should
have told Davis that. Walking slowly back to the dorm thinking, 'Okay,
obviously no Cristobal in my life now, my first sexual lover has officially
dumped me. Then I remember all over again how sure I'd been that I was in
love with him, and maybe I was too.'  Then, fuck it.  God damn him, this
was something I've been dreaming about for almost six months, recreating
Cristobal and my night together in the bath with the wine that I couldn't
stand, but pretended to like, and all the sex that followed, and him
saying, don't forget me and the whole wonderful two days.

Shedding a few tears, then I think of Frankie and my eyes clear-up before I
go in to start Joey's bath.  My last thoughts of Cris are childish, but I
have then just the same, 'Fuck you Cristobal and fuck that slut French
fairy boyfriend of yours. I got a boyfriend too you know!'  Then reality
again and the truth is, damn, I'm feeling low and disappointed because I
was really looking forward to seeing him again and all the other stuff too.
Heading into my dorm, my hands in my pocket playing with myself a little,
thinking about what might have been. Walking into Joey's and my room with
my head down, Joey turns his head to look at me with a big smile on his
face, and says, "Wait till I tell you this joke my friend just emailed me,
Oliver," and then it's deja vu all over again because he tells me the same
joke my swim team captain whispered in my ear trying to loosen me up for my
valedictorian speech, and does that seems like a long time ago now.  The
joke is the one where the little boy's playing with himself in his bath
holding his nuts. He asks his mother if these are his brains.  She says,
'Not yet they're not'.  Joey laughs and I try to laugh, but it doesn't come
out right. Kind of a bizarre coincidence that joke reappearing in my life
and I wonder about coincidences.  "What's wrong Oliver. Your friend in the
Mini give you bad news?  He's wicked short, isn't he?" I shrug and mumble,
"Yeah, but he's strong as an ox."  Then pretending it's no big thing, I
add, "He told me that someone I thought would be here this year isn't going
to be.  A little disappointing, that's all Joey.  Let me tell you about
that joke."  And I tell him the story behind me hearing it before.  Joey
asks, "You were valedictorian of your high school?"  I lighten up and go,
"Of course, weren't you?"  He laughs again, and I asks, "You want that
bath, dude?"  He does and I let myself get totally involved in bathing
Joey.  Frankly, it's fun, but more complicated than I anticipated.

After I take off his zippered shirt and pulled down his cutoffs, Joey tells
me how to disengage the rods connecting his forearm casts to the chest
apparatus, and then that apparatus comes totally off his shoulders.  He
take this opportunity to exercise his shoulder joints by moving both arms
slowly in circles for about thirty seconds, and then he loosely clasped his
hands together on his stomach so he'd move his elbow joints as little as
possible during the bath.  All he has on are his boxer shorts.  After his
rotating arms exercise I put a covering of water proof plastic material on
each cast, including the one on his leg.  All three waterproof covers have
tight elastic on both ends to prevent any water from getting inside. Joey's
very conscientious about doing whatever the doctors tell him will help his
elbow joints to heal properly.  He's determined to be a gymnast again, and
I have a feeling Joey's conscientious about everything.  I'd had the water
running in the tub right for ten minutes and it's more than half way full
now, nice and hot. With a little trepidation I pull down his boxers while
steadying him with an arm around his waist. Naked now, I can see he's got a
great set of nuts and a long pretty penis swinging slightly when he
straightens up. I stare at his package for just a second.  Joey's
apparently not self conscious about being naked in front of strangers.  For
over a month his body had been under other people's control and that's just
the reality of it, so I guess he's just going with the flow.  What choice
does he have.  In my head I take note of his very dark pubic patch and
fantasize buzzing them like Pete did. Other than that, it's just a
continuation of an extraordinary body.  I can't help wondering how that
olive toned skin of his penis would taste. Then I sort of wake-up and
notice how his boxers have been partially masking a strongish body odor
from the crotch area but actually, considering it's been three days since
his last bath, he doesn't smell all that bad.  His body's a smooth tight
wire as I hold him while helping Joey get in the tub. His body feels sexy
and looks sexy, toned and fit and one hundred percent boy.  I purposely put
the side of my face against his hard chest with his chin hitting the top of
my head as I hold onto him as the leg with the cast is over the side of the
tub.  His whole body, everything together, is a beautiful example of the
young male form at it's very best.  I can't touch enough of him to suit me
and he doesn't seem to mind at all. Again, he's probably used to it by now.

As he starts to slip I grab for his hip but get his right buttocks instead.
Jesus, it's like a big, hard, tight muscle with no flab at all.  I think to
myself, 'He could crack walnuts between those ass cheeks of his'.  Gulping
and feeling a bit dizzy, I imagine my hard boner in between his smooth,
hard, muscular buttocks.  My cock actually becomes a boner as I help him
get the other leg over the side of the tub.  He gets both feet in the
water, but I need to step inside with my damn sneaker on to keep him from
slipping. With water up to my knee, I assist him sitting down, and he says,
"Oh my God, this feels awesome, Oliver."  I'm hoping he hasn't noticed my
pants bulging out in the front as I stepped out of the tub backwards,
awkwardly trying to keep my crotch away from him and I almost fall over
doing that maneuver.  Joey laughs his soft, good natured laugh, saying,
"We'll probably get better at this with practice.  Don't ya think, Oliver?"
I mutter, "I sure hope so, and maybe next time I'll take my sneakers off
first."  Everything I say seems to make Joey either smile or laugh.  This
kid grows on you fast, let me tell ya.  I have to smile back at him, he has
the cutest, most innocent smile.  It's remarkable that someone in his
helpless condition, with the losses he's experienced, can demonstrate such
a positive outlook. He hasn't said one thing about feeling sorry for
himself and I know if it was me I'd be wicked pissed-off and mad at the
world. When his bath sponge is loaded with gel I start by washing his neck
and back, all the way down to those muscular buttocks.  Scrub, scrub,
scrub. I'm determined that he feel super clean with his skin tingling when
I'm done. Scrubbing his chest, stomach, shoulders and the parts of his arms
not encased in the cast; Joey makes quiet contented sounds as I do it.
Then he lifts one arm at a time so I can scrub his armpits extra hard.  His
head lulls against mine at times and I let my lips slide across his
forehead whenever I dare.  His clean hair is soft and I rest my cheek on
the top of his head from time to time and it becomes very sexy for me.
None of this bodily contact appears to bother Joey.


It's such a hot experience for me; ya know, having this much personal
bodily contact with a straight boy, and particularly a straight boy with a
body like Joey Gallo.  My boner's about to break off my body its so
hard. I've my arm hugging around his neck to reach over and give his other
side a good scrubbing. It's impossible not to touch his shoulders and his
slippery upper body while washing all parts of his torso.  Very sexy, to
say the least. Man am I happy I checked off that space on my application.
Nowhere on his body is he soft or flabby, skinny muscles everywhere my bare
hand touches.  Flawless, satiny skin except for those few acne bumps on his
chin which I give special attention to.  Just the feel of his breath on the
side of my face is a turn-on.  His breath's so fresh and clean
smelling. It's dreamy after awhile and I begin more gentle swipes with the
thickly lathered sponge as I let my mind wander to fantasize about Joey
fucking me.  I can just imagine those strong, thin, wiry arms and legs of
his wrapped around me so tightly I can't move as he drives his long cock
inside me.  I envision his cock being somehow extra strong, like the rest
of him, humping up my hole as he squeezes those absurdly tight ass cheeks
with each deep penetration. Then, as I scrub the parts of his legs not in a
cast, and with my boner dripping in my jockey shorts, I switched it around
and fantasize my boner up inside his wiry body with those muscle buttocks
of his squeezing my cock as if he actually is cracking walnuts, and me
squealing in ecstasy as I shoot the load of my life up inside that tight,
tight hole of Joey's.  In my fantasy I hear someone moan quietly.  When
Joey asks, "What's wrong, Oliver?"  I realized I was the one doing the low
moaning and that I'd stopped bathing him, staring out in space taking short
burst of air into my lungs. "Huh? What...oh, ha ha ha...sorry Joey, I
almost fell asleep there.  I'm a little bit wiped-out right now because I
got up at four o'clock this morning and drove for over five hours to get
here. It's been a long day for me, that's all."

Joey's apologetic, but I say, "It's not your fault, Joey. I'm good, dude,"
and go back to scrubbing his legs and what legs they are too.  Perfect
boy's legs just like I love to look at and dream of touching.  I always
think how I'd like to put the side of my face against legs like Joey's.
Feel his leg against my cheek. I don't know why exactly, I just would love
to do that, and lick his leg too.  I don't do it of course, but I do rub my
bare hand over the small amount of calf hair Joey has, that's all the hair
he had on his legs. The rest of his legs are smooth and his calf muscles,
when his leg's relaxed no less, is as hard as a rock, or as hard as my
cock; pick one. It's all the gymnastics training of course and I'm so glad
he's a gymnast.. haha. It's no surprise his feet are like everything else
on this kid, perfectly formed, like a drawing in a high school health book.
They're kind of small, but other than that just about perfect, no weirdly
shaped toes or veins bulging or corns or anything.  Holding his foot up out
of the water I'm thinking how I wouldn't mind sticking it in my mouth and
sucking his toes and lapping the nice arch and then sucking on the
heel. That made me think of Frankie again, the only other boy I've ever had
that foot fantasy about.  Frankie's feet are pinkish and Joey's feet are an
olive/tan, both of them with flawless skin and not a single hair. Oh, fuck!
I'm tired now and getting punchy and even goofier than I usually am. The
thing that surprises me the most though is these thoughts I'm having about
a boy's body and how they seem to be intensifying now that I'm sexually
active. I've been a boy watcher for a number of years, but experiencing
some bodily contact has increased my interest in all things boys. It's sexy
as hell and I'm enjoying this deepened awareness and appreciation of how
special certain males are. Wishing I could include myself in that group,
but I'm not very good at fooling myself and I'm not in Joey's or Frankie's
class. At least not to me I'm not, but who knows who might think I am from
their perspective. There a nice thought, or is it just a wild wish? Hmmm?

After scrubbing Joey's legs and feet, only his private parts are left to
do. Going right at them with a ton of thick gel lathered on that sponge, I
scrub his pubes, balls, and cock energetically, wrapping the sponge around
his penis and pulling up the length of that pretty penis four times and it
does get firmer each time I do it; Joey's grunting quietly in the
background. Using my fingers covered in bath gel I clean under the foreskin
and all around the head of his hardening cock. No protest from Joey, so I
stick my finger inside the foreskin, hold his penis in my other hand, and
wash the head of his cock again, rubbing down around the bottom of the
head, and then all over it with the ball of my finger pulling open the pee
slit slightly, as Joey gulps audibly. Then, turning my finger around I rub
all around the inside of the skin.  Glancing up at him, I see that Joey's
has his eyes closed, puffing out his cheeks, continuing the quiet grunting,
going "Umm, umm, ooh, ah, ah oooh".  Then I pulled the fore skin back off
the head and rinse it real good. Putting my arm around his neck to keep him
from sliding down in the tub, Joey leans his head against mine real cosy
like, as I force that sponge under him and in between his ass crack and
scrub down there.  Joey goes, "Ahh ahh, oh my god that feels awesome,
Oliver.  I have a rash there and the scrubbing is incredibly excellent.
It's like scratching the biggest itch I've ever had" I mutter, "Okay, Joey,
I'll get it real clean and then put on the ointment your mother told me
about."  He nods his head next to mine, against the side of my face, and I
want to lick his forehead so badly, but I don't.  He can't even speak
because it's feeling so good having that rash finally taken care of; it
left him speechless. After scrubbing his ass hole and in between his
buttocks I throw the sponge in the hamper and pulled the tub's stopper to
let the dirty water out.  Attaching the hose with the shower nozzle head to
the spigot, I rinse Joey's body thoroughly.  Refilling the tub with clean
water and getting a new sponge I apply the moisturizing cleaner his mother
instructed me to use, and do his entire body again, gently this time. Again
I put a lot of effort into getting his groin cleaner than clean, and then
even more effort then that on his ass crack between those hard buttocks of
his. Joey's clean, cleaner, cleanest. I cleaned his crack and his hole till
you could eat off of it, which is what I'd like to do.  "Mmmmmm", Joey
croons, because he feels so good.

Everything's feeling good for Joey now and he closes his eyes again, making
quiet humming sounds of pleasure. It's like when you're scratching an itch
from hell, it feels so good it gets to that point of your scratching that
approaches ecstasy.  I let my finger slip off the sponge while running it
up and down his crack and rub his hole with the tip and with the
moisturizing lotion, it slips inside him a tiny bit and he tightened his
sphincter muscle around the end of my finger. I feel precum drool into my
shorts.  Jeez, am I ever turned-on. While he lazily lulls his head with his
eyes closed, a look of pleasure on his face, I stare at him thinking,
"Damn, he's a very pretty boy.  What could I have been thinking earlier;
this assignment is awesome.  The urge to kiss the side of his face is
wicked strong, but my common sense and will power win out, but just
barely. The second body wash is much quicker and in short order I'm done,
but Joey asks if he can soak in the tub a bit. So I leave him soaking in
the very warm water and go outside to have a cigarette and try to get my
boner down.

Ten minutes later, back inside, I rinsed him off again with the shower
nozzle as the tub water drains out for the last time tonight.  When the
water level's below his firm cock I see it's on the verge of being a boner.
I ask, "How ya holding-up without taking care of your soldier there?"  He
groans and mumbles, "I'm dying, man.  A few late night emissions, but
there're small relief." I shake my head sympathizing with him. then say,
"Dude, if I was in your position I'd be going crazy by now. There's a
chance I pull on my pud more then I should."  He's quiet as I get one of my
big fluffy towels from home that my folks insisted I bring with me to
college.  It's just right for this job.  Without looking at me, he says,
"If you weren't so nice, I wouldn't mention this 'cause know it's weird,
but Oliver, and don't think I'm gay, but, um, if you would just jerk that
thing of mine a few times and give me some peace, I'll be forever in your
debt. It's been so long since I had a nice climax, I won't bore you
describing my agony."  I act shocked, "Are you fucking out of your mind?
Nineteen year olds do not wank each other's puds unless, of course, it's
some kind of an emergency.  Is this an emergency?"  Joey does his light
laugh again and said, "Why, yes it is.  My pud needs emergency wanking,
this is a fucking 911 wanking." I go, "Oh, that's a little different
then. I'm not experienced in this at all as I've only jerked-off myself
fifty thousand times, but I'll do the best I can for you."

Smiling, but blushing at the same time, Joey, mutters, "You're awesome.". I
suppose I should be blushing too, but I can't work one up. Taking hold of
his cock in my fist, I start a steady stoking dragging the foreskin over
and off the head of his cock and right away Joey is moaning and sliding
down in the slippery tub. I put my arm around his neck and hold his head
against the side of my face to hold him up, and continued jerking him off.
He maintains the same position with his arms, clasping his hands together
on his stomach and doesn't resist having his head against mine at all; in
fact, he nestled his head into the crook of my neck in a comfortable
position with his lips brushing against me as he blows out short bursts of
warm air. Could he be gay? And why am I assuming every boy I meet is gay?
His boner quickly gets ridiculously hard; I'm talking metal pipe hard!  The
fore skin is still coming off the head of his cock as I stroked down, and
then up on the wet glistening head when I stroke the foreskin up, but his
boner has stretched so the foreskin can no longer cover the head.  Over and
over I stroke his excellent cock with Joey quietly going, "Ah Ah Ah".  I
really enjoy looking at that dark pink swollen cock head with the gaping
pee slit as I slide the uncut skin on and off it.  Precum drools out of his
pee slit with each stroke.  Wetting my lips with my tongue, I swallow
noisily. I'm squeezing his hard boner tightly now as I stroke his cock; my
own boner, inside my boxers, bumps against the outside of the tub as I
knell beside it stroking Joey.  He doesn't last long and it's a good thing
too because I'm holding him around the neck with his head pressed against
my cheek and I'm gonna cum in my pants any second now. He starts humping
his hips and grunting and moaning and thrashing about, leaving a big saliva
wet spot on my neck as he moans.  His bouncing around could have resulted
in him cracking one of his cast against the porcelain tub.  Whoa, it's such
a turn-on holding him against me so tightly, stroking his long sweet boner,
and watching his reaction as his orgasm builds inside his nuts. Watching
with fascination, I see the head of his now seven inch poker expand right
before my eyes and then a magical foot long spurt of cum weakly slipped out
his pee hole with Joey going, "Eeeee' and with the next stroke of his steel
boner that first splash of cum is followed by a long, hard stream of cream
that spatters up against the spigot. Joey screams "Eeeeeeeeee Ohhhh
Ahhhhhhhh" as he fires four more shorter spurts.  This was his first real
climax in over a month.  Just thinking about that causes more wetness in my
own pants as my pre cum soaks into my underpants.  I continue to stroke his
cock until all the cum in his balls drools out of his big cock.

Joey can't talk.  He's gulping and breathing hard.  Finally he gasps,
"Jesus, Oliver.  How will I ever pay you back?"  I go, "Hmmmm?  We'll see,
dude. We'll see. "  He goes on and on enthusiastically about how awesome I
am and how I managed to do this in a way that he didn't really feel too,
too embarrassed or terribly awkward. I enjoy hearing the praise, and why
not; I'm proud of myself for not wimping out about it in the first place.
Struggling getting him out of the tub, I him sit on the lid of the toilet
while I dry him off and then over to his bed still naked, because the next
thing I need to do is put ointment on that chafed ass of his. After that
I'll get clean boxers on him, but first I take a peek at my crotch to see
if there are any tell-tale wet spots.  No pre cum has leaked through my
cargo shorts yet, so I look through his toiletries kit and find a baby
diaper rash ointment labeled for Joey's rash.  The same ointment the old
nurses' aid never used.  I get Joey laying on his back with his legs up
while I put a lot of that white ointment on the inside of his hard buttock
cheeks and all along his reddened crack.  It's a nasty looking rash and
Joey confirms it's painful at times, especially doing a dump. Ouch! At his
anus I push some cream inside and my finger slips in up to the first joint
as Joey makes a long hissing sound.  Pulling slightly on his hole and
pushing the cream up further, he lifts his buttocks up and moans.  It must
have been raw up there and the cool cream ointment is feeling so good,
unless; no, it's just sore and now he's getting relief.  I fingered him as
long as I dare, without any complaints from Joey, which makes me have the
passing thought again, 'Wouldn't it be awesome if Joey's gay?'.  Naturally,
with Joey in this position, his legs up and his hole pulsating, my cock's
so hard again I need to look away and get a grip on myself.  The thought of
sliding my boner up between those muscular, hairless buttocks of Joey's
comes over me again and I swear I feel faint. Blinking my eyes, I
concentrate more on helping Joey and less on my horniness.

When I can't stretch out the ointment treatment any longer, I put clean
boxers on Joey and he lays in his bed contentedly.  He tells me he hasn't
felt this good since the accident; not even close to this good and he
sounds so sincere I believe him. Needing to wash my finger three times
before the Desitin smell is history, but no matter, it's worth a stinky
finger to put creme in, and on Joey's ass. He talks a little about his
accident describing how hard it's been getting used to having everything
done of him, but he's resigned to it now. After a bit he wants to mess
around on-line so I get him set-up at his computer and go in to take a
shower myself.  In the bathroom I start the shower so the sound of the
running water covers-up my jerking-off and any squeals I might make. I've
been very turned-on for awhile and now I'm supernova hot.  Sitting naked on
the closed toilet lid with my legs straight out I fist my cock for ninety
seconds before shooting off almost as much spunk as Joey shot off fifteen
minutes ago.  Holy shit! Tantalizing ripples spread out from my cock and
balls and the relief is there, but the sexual part of climaxing with a
partner, is not. I think the squealing sound I'd just heard came from me
though; shooting off felt good. This wasn't for pleasure so much as it had
seemed a necessity; taking care of Joey got be sizzling hot. All that
handling of Joey's body had me so horny I barely was able to get him
settled without dropping a load in my drawers; one or two more procedures
on that boy's body and I'd be cuming in my jeans.  Then this wack-off in
the bathroom while thinking about taking care of his naked body and it felt
pretty good.  Damn, this nursing deal ain't all that bad.  Of course, Joey
is a real turn-on which makes it all the more special.  If he was some
fatso goofy-looking nerd it probably wouldn't be fun at all.  I need to sit
on the toilet seat for a minute after climaxing before I have the strength
to get in the shower.  Long day and plenty of excitement; and I am beat.

As the shower water pours down on me I realized just how tired I am;
exhausted, actually.  The shower's fantastic and afterwards as I brush my
teeth I remind myself to brush Joey's for him, which I do right after I
finished with mine.  Then we get in our separate beds for some much needed
sleep. Joey doesn't need to wear the shoulder contraption with the rods
while sleeping on his back.  I make sure he's comfortable before getting in
my own bed.  Even though it's fairly early we say good night and the next
thing I know the sun's shining through our window.  Joey's laying in bed
looking over at me.  I'm surprised to see it's almost nine o'clock.  WOW,
what a fabulous night's sleep and I feel much better. Joey looks just as
good to me this morning as he did last night.  We mutter good morning, and
then I go in to do my bathroom stuff first, actually look forward to taking
care of Joey again.  I could have awakened and thought, 'This is simply too
much trouble', but I don't feel that way at all.  Probably the novelty will
wear off in time, but for now this is a blast.  As soon as I'm done with
the bathroom I take Joey in there for his morning activities.  Brush his
teeth for him again, then help him get on the toilet and hold his dick for
him while he pees.  He also does a poop so I wiped his ass afterwards
without thinking too much about it. He mutters, "Thanks, Oliver," as I use
a washcloth to wash his hands and face, and then take him back to his bed,
laying on his stomach this time. According to Mrs Gallo's computer
print-out sheet, bed sores on his back and the back of his thighs need
ointment. This ointment is a prescription drug with steroids to promote
healing.  Also in the instructions, massage the shoulders where the
apparatus chafes all day long.  There's a moisturizer for that.  These last
few nursing chores are the last ones on the nursing list.  These, along
with the evening ones I did with Joey last night, and feeding him,
constitute my total care-giving responsibilities and would normally all be
done in the evening, but I was too tired to finish them last night.
Looking at the list I think to myself, 'I can handle this'.  The rest is
just making sure he gets to where he needs to be on time.

As I worked with Joey I'm reminded of Daddy/Glen and his constant demands
for me to be 'docile'. Hell, Joey's the most docile boy anyone could ever
imagine.  That's probably because Joey, for the past month, has been forced
to surrender his body to whichever care giver is working on him.  It's cool
though that he rolls this way or that, whatever I want, with his arms and
legs limp.  He didn't give a thought to me moving his nuts from one side to
the other in cleaning and so forth.  Joey's the rag doll I had tried to be
for Daddy.  Actually, that's pretty close.  I've never played with dolls so
I have zero experience in that, but now I find myself with a real live
boy-doll to play with and I'm a fucking natural at it.  Plus, like I've
said any number of times, it's actually fun. Joey lays on his stomach, as I
said, and I rub in the ointment on several very red spots on his back, then
pull his boxers down to his knees and put the salve on three more spots
high up on his thigh.  Joey made a cooing sound when I first put the
ointment on as the creme soothes the rough sores. He never complains, but
these sore must hurt. After the creme I massage in an oily creme that's
also a prescription drug. Massaging it into his skin from his shoulders all
down his back and then, even though there was no mention of his legs, down
his thighs to the back of his knees.  This creme is white, but it's quickly
absorbed without a trace. The instructions hadn't said anything about
massaging his ass with the cream, but I assumed that's just an oversight.
I massaged his ass for three or four minutes. Neither of us says anything,
but every minute or so Joey makes a quiet moaning sound of pleasure.
Needless to say my boner pokes my boxer shorts straight out again, but
fortunately Joey's on his stomach with his eyes closed and misses my
bobbing pole. The last thing I needed to apply is the Desitin creme.  That
stuff needs to be applied inside his crack and up his hole again.  I can
see right away that last night's treatment has already noticeably reduced
the redness of the rash, so this nursing chore might not be necessary a few
days from now.  My index finger, covered with the white creme, pressed
against his anus and then slides in his hole, this time up to the second
joint. Joey's so relaxed and loose he offered no resistance and I more or
less finger fucked him for a minute or more.  I notice him lifting his
crotch off the bed somewhat; probably boner related.  When I don't dare
finger his hole any longer I run my finger from the top of his crack to the
bottom near his nuts, three or four times with my fingers slippery with
more of the Desitin.  He does a long quiet moan wiggling his crotch against
the bed sheets.

"Oh, fuck, Oliver.  You're the best, dude.  I haven't felt so, um, so free
of discomfort since the accident.  All my itches and scratches and burns
are all fixed by you."  He chuckles and adds, "Come to think of it, I never
felt this good before the accident either."  Then a soft laugh.  I say,
"Hey, Joey, glad to hear it, man.  Now we'll get you turned over and I'll
put some of this lotion on your chest and the front of your shoulders."  He
said, "Oh no!  No way! I won't be turning over for a while, Oliver.  Go
have a cigarette or something."  I chuckle, "Oh, I get it, Joey.  Yeah,
sorry bout that," and I just have to laugh out loud because we both have
wicked boners.  He's willing to admit his, but I'm hiding mine.  I pat his
bare ass a few times, just because I feel like it, and say, "Well, would
you like your friend squeezed again?"  He gives a half hearted protest
saying he couldn't keep asking me to do that, but soon enough he gives in.
Getting jerked-off simply feels too good to pass-up, especially if your
snake has been stroked a total of once in the past month, are you kidding
me?  I tell him I need to take a pee and then I'd spank that naughty boner
of his.  He goes, "Thanks, Oliver," but the words catch in his throat as he
nervously does what I now recognize as his phony laugh whenever he feels
embarrassed.  What I need to do is put on a big T-shirt and then secure the
head of my boner under my boxer's waistband. I want to hide my boner
because I'm far from ready to have Joey realize how much all this turns me
on.  He'd probably realize I was gay fairly soon anyway; hell, I haven't
exactly kept it a secret on campus.  But, I don't want him to know just
yet.  Soon, but not right now.  Guess I'm just working up the courage to
tell him.  I want us to be more comfortable with each other before I tell
him; you know, so he has a chance to realize that there's more to me than
me just being gay.

When I had my own boner under wraps I get Joey turned over.  As usual he
keeps his hands clasped as low on his stomach as the casts on his elbows
will allow, which is almost as far down as his belly button.  His seven
inch boner is sticking straight up.  "This is pretty embarrassing,
Oliver. I'm use to being man handled, but this is a brand new kind of
manhandling, if ya know what I mean."  Then he laughs nervously again, and
adds a mumbled, "But nice, um, very nice of you.  I'm not complaining!"
He's having a little trouble talking.  I go, "Shhhhh, just relax," as I
massaged the oily creme into the front of his shoulders, then some on his
chest and stomach.  Avoiding his crotch for the moment, I start massaging
his feet and then up his legs slowly, all the way up his skinny, but
powerful legs till they connect at his groin.  His boner swells and precum
drools down the shaft, as Joey moans, "Ohhh my god, that massage feels
good". I'm quietly grunting with each quick intakes of oxygen myself by
now, wiping a lot of the slippery gel on his nuts and then down near his
hole, which I'd covered with Desitin earlier.  Finally my slippery hand
grabbed around his boned penis and up and down his long shaft with the head
of his cock showing itself when I stroked down and then retreats back into
it's skin shell when I stroke up.  Over and over with both our cocks, mine
against my stomach and his encased by, and drooling over my hand as our
cocks drip, drip, drip pre cum. As I've mentioned, I like looking at the
head of his swollen cock as the pee slit expands when pre cum drools out of
it.  Joey generates more pre cum than any boy I've ever encountered.  His
cock head glistens with it.  He's openly moaning now and the makes the
hissing sound from sucking air in between his lips as he rolls his head
from side to side on the pillow, and then, "Ah ah ah ah" with each tight,
relentless long stroke I do on his hard, hard boner.

He holds out longer than last night, but not much.  Arching his back,
grunting twice and then gasping as he sends another long string of white
creamy boy cum over his feet to splat on the old hard wood floor.  The
second and third shots land on his leg down by the calf and some on his
thigh.  Joey, breathing hard, mutters, "Will you marry me, Oliver?"  and we
both laugh harder then that remark deserved. My stomach is wet with my own
pre cum and I'm right on the edge of spontaneously climaxing. Shortly he's
breathing normally again so I say, "Be right back" and I go quickly into
the bathroom for a fast couple of strokes on my boner using the same hand
that has Joey's pre cum and creamy spunk on it and I fire off another hot
shot of cum so hard it made me see stars.  Sitting down on the edge of the
tub I take short breaths until my heartbeat's almost back to normal.  Holy
shit!  Is this ever hot! After getting us both cleaned-up and dressed we go
for breakfast.  Neither of us mentions my rush to the bathroom or Joey's
jerk-off, instead we're quiet with our own thoughts as I push his
wheelchair to the dining hall.  Later, while I'm wiping some grape jelly
off Joey's chin, a thought explodes in my head: 'Hey, this is Darleen and
Frankie all over again. I'm playing the Darleen part and Joey's playing
Frankie's part.  The care I'm providing Joey has to be very similar to the
way it was when Darleen nursed Frankie that year following his accident.
Another bizarre coincidence in my life and I wonder what it all means?  Of
course Frankie was very capable of jerking himself off so that's different.
But, I bet the rest is pretty much the way it went with those two.
 Frankie and I have never discussed the specifics of the nursing Darleen
provided, it's just that it was humiliating to Frankie in the beginning,
but he eventually felt comfortable only with Darleen.  Weird stuff.  Joey
already seems real comfortable with me, but he's been doing this for a
month already with one care-giver or another.  As I'm feeding Joey a
fork-full of scrambled egg I glance at his face and discover he's staring
at me intently with those big dark blue eyes of his; staring at me like
maybe I really am his hero. When he see me look at him he smiles at me
sweetly.  It's a very nice feeling having someone think you're their hero.
At the same time it also occurs to me that being someone's hero is a hell
of a big responsibility too.

After breakfast we attend a couple of morning orientation meetings. In
between them we chat casually about sports and music and try to make a few
friends along the way too.  Then, for laughs, we whisper insulting comments
to each other about other freshman who aren't as cool as we think we are.
We do manage to meet a couple of other guys and girls that we both feel
meet our standard for acquaintances... haha. They're all real interested in
Joey's accident and the fact that I'm his care-giver.  Everyone acts amazed
at that, but l'm not sure if they're amazed I can do it or amazed that I'm
willing to do it.  The extent of hygiene care Joey requires should be
apparent to all.  I don't mind, I want to make friends for sure, but I'm
very much aware that I didn't have a good history of success in that
department during my high school years, and I'm still not sure why.  In any
case, I've decided to concentrate on what's most important at the moment:
taking care of Joey.  I'll let friendships develop naturally without me
making a conscious effort to force the process because I may have tried too
hard in High School.  Just let it happen is my new philosophy.  During the
first orientation meeting I paid attention, but soon realize Joey's
conscientiously typing notes from the meeting into his lap top.  After
that, instead of paying attention, I daydream throughout the remainder of
both meetings.  I'll read Joey's notes later.

I'm daydreaming about the way unexpected situations seem to happen in my
life, like Cristobal's absence, and realize how much I'd been looking
forward to continuing our relationship.  I'd built-up my first sexual
experience to a significant degree and Cristobal had become a huge turn-on
for me.  All summer I thought about Cris, like the time he danced with me
that first night, and how he kissed me a little later. Both were first tome
experiences. And of course, I had my first real gay sex with him.  Cris was
so experienced it hardly hurt at all, even the first time.  That sexy
feeling of another boy's penis inside me was awesome, especially after I'd
fantasized about it for all those years; a memory I'll never forget. I
expected him to do me again all my freshman year, but he's not going too
and I'm realizing the full extent of how much I want to do it again with
him; it hurts. I'm pissed off at Cristobal for leading me on in my
innocence. He took advantages of me.  Then, daydreaming about the brothers
weekend I had with Christian I'm wondering if he took advantage of me
too. If he did I'm positive it wasn't planned; it just developed on it's
own with help of alcohol. I realize another thing too that sort of
surprises me; I've no desire for another sexy time with my brother.  It was
special special at the time, but mostly I think it was something I did for
him because of all the wonderful things he's done for me. And then there's
Alexander who I do have the urge to have sex with again.  Fucking him
earlier this summer was another first time experience and quite a hot one
too. Well, except when he acted feminine, which was only rarely.  I get a
hard boner thinking about his beautiful light brown skin, the sexy smell of
him, and that handsome face and that great, dense hair of his. It's hot
grabbing fistfuls of his hair when pile driving his tight hole.

During the second orientation meeting I think about Frankie and the summer
we had together, and his beautifully cute face, and our spit swapping
make-outs, and the couple of times I sucked his perfect cock, and him
fucking me in his garage full of junk. Smiling to myself I think of his
wise-cracking personality, but mostly I go back to daydream about the two
times he fucked me.  Oh my God, I really long for more Frankie.  We'd laugh
so hard we couldn't catch our breath and then there were the serious talks
we had too.  I can almost smell Frankie's scent; his sexy natural scent. I
love running my fingers through his bright red burr haircut; his silky hair
on his perfectly shaped head.  I could eat him and it's fun thinking about
licking his pinkish smooth body from his feet all the way up to his red
hair.  Loved sucking on his nuts and rubbing his closely cut pubes and
watching his big cock get hard, then lapping and sucking it. And then
there's Myers and the shy, super-hot mailroom boy, Pete too. These memories
suddenly make me feel lonely because I don't actually know anyone here. I
mean I know Davis' name, but I don't know him. I was depending on Cristobal
to show me around and introduce me to his friends. It's obvious that I'd
been depending too much on Cristobal.  And, now that I know he's not going
to be here, I'm starting to wonder why I ever thought college was going to
be any different than high school.  I'll just be an outcast from a larger
number of smarter kids here at college.  Except there's Joey, and what a
stroke of good luck he's turning out to be. So I do have a friend here and
I'll make others too. And I'll be hooking up with Alexander once in a
while; Frankie too, so what's my problem? I can't allow all this
daydreaming to get me depressed; that's the old Oliver who searches out
depression, not the new adventurous Oliver. Hell, none of the other
freshman in these orientation meeting know anyone here either; it's not
just me. I do too much daydreaming. Instead of that I glance at Joey and
damn he's hot.' I'll concentrate on that thought. After the second
orientation meeting Joey and me go to lunch.  Joey's describing the hot
chick who sat across from him, something about her body. I just nod my head
like I know what he's talking about.  Two blocks away from the dining hall,
I see two guys jogging towards us.  One of the guys points at Joey and me
saying something to his friend; they're amazingly light on their feet and
it's fun watching them run. I roll the wheelchair to one side of the brick
sidewalk to let them pass by, but they pull up on front of us, not even
breathing hard from the run, and asks Joey, "Are you Joey Gallo?"  Joey
nods his head and the jogger introduces himself and his friend as members
of the gymnastic team. They're supposed to hook-up with Joey for lunch. The
orientation meeting finished earlier than expected so they got there late.
Both guys are juniors, on campus early representing the team greeting
freshman gymnast.  Joey introduces me and the gymnast invite me to join
them for lunch at a place called Smokey Joe's.  After lunch they'd take
Joey off my hands so he can meet other members of the gymnastics team. I
feel like a fifth wheel, but can't think of a way to decline their
invitation without offending them.

Both gymnasts are short, about five feet, five inches at most, but
obviously fit.  Fantastic bodies on these two and they don't walk so much
as they sorta glide along.  One of the two is very cute, but the other is
not. The cute one's name is Randy Rider and the goofy looking one is Bob
Crane.  They're both kinda funny and likable.  They're being nice to Joey
because he's a new teammate, but they're nice to me too. The cute Randy
puts his arm loosely on my shoulder as we walk side by side to this
bar/restaurant.  Goofy pushes Joey's wheelchair ahead of us. They're both
quite confident and why shouldn't they be since they've been at college for
two years already. Everything they say seems to be tongue in cheek, silly,
or just plain outrageous. Joey and I laugh easily because the juniors put
us at ease and treat us like equals. Being a part of this foresome made me
feel like I'm part of a clique in that I'm a University of Pennsylvania
college student, and most everybody else in the world isn't..

The not-cute one, Bob Crane, has the fabulous body alright, but an
unfortunate face and bad hair to go along with the hot bod.  He's cursed
with early male baldness with a receding hairline and a small bald circle
at the crown of his head.  His temporary remaining hair is whimpy,
straw-colored and cut short.  His dull brown eyes are small and too close
together as they peer out under a straight line of thick eyebrows above a
too long nose. It's fortunate for him that he's smart and good at
gymnastics or he might be headed to the 'loser' bin. Also he's very quick
with funny asides and seemingly a good guy. The other gymnast, Randy, is
quite a different story.  He's funny and very bright also, but oh so very
cute as well.  Randy's hair is cut short too for my taste, but it's that
type of luxurious two-tone blond hair that's thick and even though it's
short it has a slight curl and I wouldn't mind running my fingers through
it even though it's shorter than Frankie's.  Not only does Randy have
perfect hair and a perfect body, he's also model beautiful as well as
cute. To be honest, Joey and me are cute, but Randy is up a few notches on
us.  He's up there with Frankie on a much higher plateau of cuteness. He
has the kind of face I like to stare at because the more you look at it the
more you realize how special it is, and all boy as well.  This will not
surprise you, but my dick's moving around in my boxers and I need to
concentrate to keep from wetting my lips, and my pants.  I consider Randy a
little unexpected temporary gift for me to ogle.  Everything wrong about
Bob's face is just right with Randy's. He's another one of those boys with
that special peaches & cream complexion that always looks clean and
lickable.  Fine light eyebrows over very bright brown eyes that appeared to
change shades of brown as I look him in his eyes as he talks.  Nice perky
nose with a dozen small, light colored freckles across the bridge and very
cute cheekbone structure that give him the appearance of grinning all the
time. His chin's just right too with no cleft.  Natural pink, bowed lips
and awesome dimples when he smiled.  His smile also shows off his very
white teeth and a slight separation between the front ones.  The perfect
imperfection, if you know what I mean. Like I said, he's eatable. Yep, he
takes my breath away and he's walking next to me with his arm casually on
my shoulder looking me in the eyes when he talks.  At one point he asks me
if I'm alright because my breath's coming out in short snorts.  He has a
smirk on that wonderful face of his when he asks me that; I think it was a
smirk. I mumble, "I'm fine, thank you," and he continues telling me how I'm
going to need a really good fake ID to have any prayer of getting served in
bars around the campus.  He goes, "In case you're not aware of it, Oliver,
fake IDs are exactly like real IDs except they're fake." I mutter, "Huh,"
and he adds, "Yep, they're usually produced by a frat dude entrepreneur,
one who has mastered the mysterious art of laminating.  The safest bet is
an ID without a hologram, which means choosing IDs from states that don't
know what holograms are: like Alabama, Arkansas, and Mississippi."  I
finally blurt out a laugh, but he pretends to be serious telling me I can
find out about all kinds of shit like that in the College Humor Guide.  I
don't know if there's such a thing or not.  With Randy it's hard to tell.

His tight body rubbing against mine every step we take is definitely
getting to be boner time for me, but we arrive at the bar just before I
spring one.  I slide into the inside seat of the first empty booth we come
to, adjusting my semi-hard pecker as I slide, and Randy slides in tight
beside me as I take a deep breath wondering if he's gay.  The beginnings of
a boner always feels good and so does Randy.  He looks over at me, then
inexplicably pinches my ear lobe and holds it, proclaiming, "No piercings?"
I'm like, "Huh? Oh, that is, um, no. None."  But, by then he's calling out
to another kid he knows who's sitting at the bar.  I don't understand their
exchange, but they both laugh; college lingo probably.  Smokey Joe's is a
cool bar full of college students and other young kids pretending to be
college students.  For lunch Bob feeds Joey clam chowder that came in a
hollowed out round loaf of bread. I have a Philly cheese steak, which I fed
to myself while bumping elbows with Randy.  Both Randy and Bob have big
cheesbergers with french fries and fried onion rings.  Big lunch for guys
that size.  They said soon they'd have to watch their diets, but they liked
to binge when they can.  The food's okay, not great.  We have a pitcher of
beer with our meal although actually I'd rather have a coke, but I drink
the beer and listen to Randy give us advise about college. He tells us that
as freshman, the first weeks of college present us with our only shot at
hooking up with people who are ridiculously out of our league status
wise. He claims it's because the social strata has yet to be established,
and once it's established losers like Joey and me won't have a chance with
the in crowd. Where have I heard that before? Randy gives us an example,
"Let's say early in the first week Oliver here is chatting-up this hot
chick and by some miracle he manages not to say anything blatantly racist
or incredibly stupid, she's a freshman too and will probably think to
herself, "No way would I consider talking to this loser ordinarily, but
this ain't high school so maybe stuttering is cool at college, I really
don't know.  I better go out with him just in case it is."

The things Randy says are mildly amusing in themselves, but he presents
them in a very funny way and Joey and I get to laughing pretty good.  I
love that Randy used my name in his example and that he sort of included
Joey and me in on the joke.  Plus, he squeezed the back of my neck to show
me he's only teasing about us being losers.  He follows up the squeeze by
rubbing up the back of my head and then ruffling the hair on the top of my
head, as he says to Bob, "Freshman are so cute; ya just gotta love em."
I'm all jittery and then I think to myself, 'Was I stuttering again?'  I
hadn't realized it. I do my fake cough glancing at hot Randy who looks back
at me with a killer grin, and with a mysterious expression doing something
with his eyes. Another fake cough from me and, for some reason, I'm
blushing.  Bob's telling us about his first roommate, who informed him,
"FYI, dude, but I'll be occasionally smoking pot in our room".  Bob said to
his roommate, "That's so weird, dude, because I occasionally tell on
people."  Bob and Randy think that's a riot.  Then Randy says he was
worried about his first roommate when the kid suggested, "How about we push
these dorm beds together and make a big king size bed?"  This made all of
us laugh.  By now Joey and I laugh at anything these two say.  They just
seem very cool to us.  At one point Randy's giving Joey and me tips on how
we can be cool at college too.  Randy goes, "No truly cool person speaks
loudly. You need to speak real low in conversations, and always act bored.
Say a few, small words, but every once in a while drop in a really big one
just to prove you can, but you're too cool to bother.  See?"  For example;
some one says to you, "Hey," and you mutter, "Sup?" and they say, "I like
your T shirt." You say "Sup?" again and it goes like that for a bit and
then somewhere along the way you drop in one of the big word's you've
memorize."  Bob and Randy are having fun and I don't get it all, but I'm
now playing with myself under the table because Randy's pressing the side
of his thigh against the side of mine. As we're finishing the pitcher of
beer, Joey asks me, "Ya want to come with us to meet some of the other
gymnast, Oliver?"  I say, "Sup?" making Randy laugh and do the back of my
neck squeeze and hair rub again. My boner is full and hard by now.  I
squeak out, "Can we get something for desert?"

We all get chocolate ice cream sundaes because Bob informs us it goes best
with draft beer, which is puzzling. I take my time eating mine hoping my
boner will go down. Not wanting to leech on to the gymnast, I mention to
Joey I need to email my folks and do some other stuff, and I'd catch-up
with him later.  After lunch all of us go back in the same direction we
came and on the way Randy explains to me about the difficult training
program necessary for gymnastics at their level. He claims it creates full
body muscle development and he pats my ass emphasizing that this part of
the body needs exercising too.  I'm wearing flimsy nylon-like basketball
shorts and Randy, after patting my almost bare ass, grabs my left buttocks
and pushes some of the material of my shorts up my hole using his middle
finger, telling me, "Yeah, even this muscle gets worked on for gymnastics
and both buttocks get very muscular and hard", making me think of Joey's
buttocks.  He adds, "Now Oliver, your ass is firm, but not hard like a
gymnast ass," as he's pushing the material of my shorts further up my
asshole until I'm walking up on my toes going, "Ugh...oh oh...Ah ah ".  I
hold onto his arm to keep my balance as he chuckles and massages my ass
cheek, saying in his normal speaking voice, "Here, feel the difference,"
and he lets go of my ass, taking my hand and presses it against his ass.
His ass feels just like Joey's.  We're walking behind Bob who's again
pushing Joey in the wheelchair, so all this ass grabbing goes undetected by
them.  I'm still up on my toes clutching Randy with one hand and pulling at
the back of my nylon shorts with the other.  My efforts to pull the
material out of my hole is not immediately successful, but I do spring
another boner.  After a few steps, Randy points at the buldge in the front
of my shorts and lightly touches the head of my cock through the thin
material, muttering, "Get a grip, dude.  Jeez, I won't be able to show you
insightful things about gymnastics if ya keep popping boners on me."  Than
he hugs me around my waist, saying with a grin, "I'm just breaking your
balls, Oliver, 'cause I like ya.  Don't get all flustered on me."  I
managed to smile back and gulp while trying to say, "Sup", but I'm betting
Randy's gay.

He calls up to Bob, "You'll never guess what happened to Oliver".  Bob
doesn't even look back when he says, "Let me guess.  He's the victim of the
infamous "Randy Rider Wedgie" and he can't get his underwear out of his
asshole".  Randy said, "You're not as much fun as you use to be,
Bob". Maybe he's not gay after all.  And then we're at the point where they
go left and I go right.  We all say goodbye and two minutes later Randy
jogs back to me and asks, "You're okay, right, Oliver?"  I say, "Um, yeah,
I'm fine," and looking me right the eyes Randy says, "We've got to hook up
soon, dude!"  Then he's gone and I stand here watching him glide away,
again thinking he's gay. When he's out of view I slowly walked away not
really sure what was going on, but my boner's back. Randy's one of the
confident ones and I'm attracted to his type, but what attracted him to me?
And, is he gay or, like he said, just busting my balls.  What I don't need
is another conundrum confusing my life, like with Frankie most of the time.
It's not unheard of for a gymnast to be gay of course and the thought
Randy's gay and interested in me has me hustling back to the room for an
emergency afternoon jerk off. In the bathroom I do it thinking about Randy
and a little about Joey too. Damn, do I ever explode with cum. A burning
climax as spunk streaks from my pee slit. Then I worry that Randy was
making fun of me and I'm just too stupid to realize it.  Later, after
emailing my parents, Alexander, and Frankie, I pick-up Joey at the
gymnasium and while pushing his wheelchair back to our room ask what he
thinks of Randy. He thinks he's cool, but doesn't mention anything about
Randy maybe being gay and there's no way I can bring it up, so it's
unclear. I lay on my bed and fantasized about Randy and Joey being gay and
what a threesome we would make once Joey's bones have healed.  The two
tight and toned gymnast do the skinny and very willing Oliver Nickerson.
God damnit, I popped another boner already.

I get my iPod out and listen to The Killers CD.  I absolutely love "Can you
read my mind?"and I memorized every word hoping to sing it with Cristobal
on Mall Road.  Fuck that!  Checking my email I see one from Mom & Dad, one
from Alexander, two from the twins and one from Frankie.  Now I'll finally
find out something, maybe.

to be continued...

Chapter 13 (The Roommate 2)

Donny Mumford
thinat20@yahoo, com

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