Date: Mon, 10 Oct 2016 11:25:25 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter  10

DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT  COLLEGE


Chapter  10


by  Donny Mumford


After  Robby and I drop off our bogus girlfriends at their dorm, we  talk
about them during the short drive to our apartment. I tell Robby the  girls
are, "Um, kinda interestingly different from what I'm used to." He  snorts a
chuckle, mumbling, "Jesus, there's a reluctant luke-warm  endorsement if
I've ever heard  one."  I'm offended, "I was being generous, whaddaya talking
about? I  mean, there's nothing wrong with either of the girls, per se. I
just don't get  why they insist on hanging-out with us?" He's goes, "I don't
know either, but  I think they're fun. It's cool hearing about things from
their  perspective. In high school I was too introverted, especially when it
came to  girls, but now I'm not, and I'm enjoying them."  No sense arguing
about it, so I just shrug. Both Beth and Frankie are, in fact, nice. There
isn't  a single thing I can honestly find fault with either of them so far.

And, sure, it's fine having casual female friends, but something about  the
suddenness of all this seems unreal, like the girls are playing a game with
us for their own amusement. Or maybe I'm jealous of Robby's interested in
them;  I don't think I am, but I really don't know for sure because, like I
said,  it's so new.

Inside our apartment I do a quick check for text messages. There's some
texts, but not from Ryan. He's like that though; if I don't text him he'd
never  think to text me first. Robby asks, "Any problem, Dylan?" I put my phone
away,  "Um, no. Why do you ask?" He mumbles, "You were frowning." Shaking my
head, I  mumble, "I didn't realize I was frowning. I'm good." We get ready
for bed and,  surprisingly, go to sleep without having sex. If we had sex
tonight it  would have been the third time today, so it's not like either of
us is  especially horny. Of course, you don't especially need to be horny to
enjoy  the pleasures of sex. When I cuddled up to him, he murmured, "Not
tonight,  okay, babe? I'm really tired." Huh, I guess it'll need to be  okay
because I can't do it by myself. This might be rationalizing,  but in a way
it's probably good we abstain once in a while. I mean, if  we do it every
single night, regular as clockwork, it could  eventually feel like an obligation
rather than a spontaneous desire to  share ourselves with each other. That
sounds like logical thinking, right?  Yeah, except for this little niggling
thought in the back of my mind  about Robby's comment this afternoon; the
one where he said he's  curious what it'd be like having sex with a girl. Ya
know  what? I should probably use that universal bullshit excuse of  having a
headache some night when Robby wants to have sex. Yeah,  maybe I should do
that some time so he doesn't get the misconception I'm  always available, so
to speak. Obviously the recent attention he's  been getting from the girls,
especially Frankie, is at the root of his  newfound curiosity about sex
with one of those creatures. Jesus, it's always  something...

After  a good night's sleep we do a good morning kiss; then, neither of us
being what  you might call a morning person, we don't have a lot to say
while getting ready for our last class of the week. It's the only course we
don't have together. No morning sex, but that's not a  regular occurrence
anyway. If we're going to do it in the morning  it'll usually be initiated by
Robby, him being, the  man, in-charge of everything. Robby being in-charge has
been a  slow developing concept, but it's established enough by now that I
don't believe  he even thinks about it; he just goes about being in charge.

He  low-keys it. He'd probably be shocked if I said "No' to something he
decided on; hell, it would probably shock me too. Sometimes when I see  him
noticeably taking charge I get a little aroused, while at the  same time it
can be slightly scary too. It was me who nudged Robby  into the role of being
our decision-making leader, and now  that he's embraced the concept it's
like, 'You can't get the  toothpaste back in the tube'. Or to put it another
way, Robby's  unlikely to ever be less in-charge then he presently is, so I
guess my  question to myself is: how much more in-charge will he get on his
own? It'd be  the height of hypocrisy for me to complain about the situation,
I  mean since I'm responsible for almost all of it. He'll ask me a times
what I want to do, or what I'd rather do in certain situations, but mostly  we
do what he wants with neither of us giving it a  thought.

So, no sex  last night or this morning, but I have no overall complaints in
the sexual  relations department;not where Robby's concerned anyway. He's
taken care of  business here at college very nicely for the most part. With
my sex life  overall, however, I have a slight sense of unease because I'm
missing the buddy side-sex I used to indulge in more frequently then
presently.  Ryan and I did it once, and that's been totally it for  my side-sex
activities. Oh well, there was the one quickie with Tracy  that I suppose I
should borderline include. And, I'm not inferring I'm  walking around horny all
the time or anything like that. It's simply  that past unexpected encounters
of side-sex aren't happening anymore.  So yeah, I kinda miss the variety I
used to experience on a semi-regular basis.  On the other hand it's probably
a good thing my side-sex is way down because  next year, our senior year,
Robby wants us to be monogamous as we prepare for  marriage. That's a good
idea, I suppose. Huh, it's weird to think that this is  likely my last year
for experiencing side-sex though. Funny, but I might be  having the beginnings
of some second thoughts about letting Robby making that  decision for us.

The problem is I wouldn't do anything to  jeopardize our love affair. Hell,
I've told myself a thousand times this is the  situation I've always wanted,
right? Oh hell, I'm pretty  sure everything will be fine.

We  have toasted frozen waffles with melted butter and real maple syrup,
plus coffees, for breakfast. As we eat, Robby asks, "Are you going with me
this  morning, Dylan?" I nod, "Yeah, I'll grab another coffee at the Quad
killing  time until my nine-thirty class. What are you doing after your class?"

He shrugs, so I add, "We have the whole day to do whatever we want. It's
like a  three day weekend, right?" He goes, "Yeah, I know; ain't it great? The
 only thing is, this afternoon I need to put in a couple of hours with
Golden at  the ballpark. Fall practice starts Monday and I want to make sure
Golden's  clued-in on everything in the handbook." I'm like, "What handbook?"

Robby says,  "The one our infielder coach gave Danny and me." I'm like,
"Okay, but  that handbook deal is for later this afternoon. Before meeting Golden
would  you go to the Mall with me? I need new sneakers and then we could
have  lunch somewhere." He gets up from the table to put his dish and coffee
mug in  the dishwasher, saying, "You bet, babe. I'll wait around after my
class. Meet me  at the pickup." I'm nodding my head, mumbling, "That's cool."

He smirks at me  then, says, "I'll bet you've forgotten something." I ask,
"What's that?" and he  says, "Before we go to the Mall you and I need to do
whatever homework we  get from our morning's classes." I'm like, "Homework?

Jeez, Rob, we have the whole weekend to do that." He says, "That's true
enough, but we're still gonna do it before we do anything else. Then it's  done
and we're totally free the rest of the weekend." I mutter, "Oh, okay I
guess, but Jesus!" He gives me a look, quietly saying, "You agreed we'd be
conscientious about this year's classes, right?" I nod, peevishly  saying,
"Yeah, swell.  I said okay, didn't I?" He mutters, "I hate  when you pout, Dylan.

Please don't pout; it's so, um, childish." He's right, so  I mumble,
"Sorry, Rob," and we do a nice hug, finishing with a sweet kiss.  As we put our
backpacks on, I mumble, "Ya know, Rob, you've got me wrapped  around your
little finger." He goes, "Ha ha, that'll be the day anyone has you  wrapped
around any finger. C'mon now, I'm gonna be late for  class."

My Friday  morning class is the only one I have with Ryan. In that regard,
the primary  reason I asked Robby about going to the Mall is I wanted
something planned for right after class. It's dumb of me maybe, especially since
I just finished bitching about my lack of side-sex, but even so I  don't
want to get in the habit of Ryan and me screwing after every Friday  morning
class. It would be too obvious, and what could I tell Robby I was doing
after class? So I guess I'm trying to impress on Robby that Ryan and I are  not
fucking like rabbits, or whichever the animal is that fucks a lot;  minks
maybe. As it turns out, however, I didn't need to come up with something  to
do after class. Robby came up with it for  me: doing homework assigned from
Friday's class. Jesus, it's like  I make these promises to Robby, ones that
don't seem all that important at  the time, but often they come back to bite
me in the ass later. In  this case I'm referring to my promise to work with
Robby trying for even better grades then we got last year.  My question is:
what the hell's wrong with our last year's GPA of 3.0? Get  serious! Ya
know, something I probably need to do in the future is  think about the longer
term consequences of whatever it  is I'm agreeing to... duh, that should have
occurred to me about three  years ago! I frankly feel it's overkill
insisting we do assignments immediately after class. And, not to  make too fine a
point of it, but is Robby going to do assignments right after  class on
Monday, I mean when baseball fall practice begins? Hmmm, well  see about that.

Robby  parks the pickup at a Merrimack lot that's approximately halfway
between  his class and mine. He pats me on the shoulder, saying, "I'll see you
in a  couple of hours right  back here at the pickup. Okay, babe?" I go,
"Yep, see you then, Rob. Have a  good class." He starts to go, then stops and
gives me a little smile,  asking, "We good, Dylan?" I nod and sort of smile
back at him, "Yes, Rob,  we're good," then I add, "Boss." He grins and shoots
me with his index  finger, muttering, "Boss, my ass," and walks off with
his backpack over one  shoulder, cool like. I watch him walk away until he
turns around and waves  at me, like I knew he would. Damn, I could never give
him up. I'm crazy in love!  It's like I've thought any number of times in the
past: Robby's actually  too good for me, but what the hell I'm keeping him
anyway. If doing course  assignments after class is what he wants, that's
what he'll get. My concerns  about how in-charge or bossy Robby might become
in the future seems silly  to me now. Robby and I are perfect together.

Okay, I've got forty minutes before my class, but I don't really feel  like
going to the Quad for another coffee. What to do?  Pulling up the hood of
my new Merrimack Warriors sweatshirt, I light  my first smoke of the day
thinking that hoodie sweatshirts are  very cool. What's even cooler though is
wearing a baseball cap  with the bill in the front, and then putting up the
hood. That's an awesome  look right there. And, Goddammit, I need to get that
fucking hat back  from Beth, and I mean today! Okay, with that settled, I
saunter down a  brick sidewalk smoking my cigarette, not thinking about
anything special. Then,  holy shit! Is that Hoodie Boy from the baseball stands
walking towards me.  Yes, I'm sure it is and, of course, he'd have 'cause he's
Hoodie Boy. Ha  ha. He's wearing a backpack, so probably heading to class.

His head's  down as he's walking hurriedly along by himself. When he gets
closer I see he's  frowning, and looking awfully fucking cute doing it too.

Hot shit, one of  the rare cute guys on campus. I can't see his hair because
of the hood, but I  see he's either clean-shaven or he hasn't started growing
a beard yet. A  sparse beard would look sexy on that youthful baby face of
his. Gee, he has a  perfect nose too, and today he's wearing horn-rimmed
eyeglasses that are too big  for him. Jesus, what a cute fucker! Wow, for sure
he's a rare  cute one alright. Somehow I still need to determine if he's
the one out of ten who's gay. If that long-shot comes in I might have  a very
interesting situation here.

He walks around a group of slower walking students and when he's six  feet
from me he looks up and our eyes meet, then he maintain eye contact  way to
long for a straight dude. He grins this stupidly cute grin, pointing  at me,
and as I exhale a long stream of smoke, he says, "Hey, you're the  bleacher
guy from the other day. Nice hoodie, dude," and he's past me just like
that. Oh fuck, I think he has slightly bucked teeth in front, but they're
perfect for him. I've got goosebumps seeing him up close like that as I bring
the back of my hand up to my nose, feeing odd. It's so strange how certain
guys  resonate with me much more than others. Goddamn though, I'm bad at
extemporaneously coming up with something cool to say on the fly like that. I
said nothing to him, just grinned back at him, nodding my  head.

Taking  a drag off my cigarette, I'm thinking this quick encounter with
Hoodie Boy didn't actually prove anything about his possible one  out of ten
status. Not really, although there was the cute grin and the  too-long eye
contact, so there's that. And I confirmed my suspicion from long  distant
observation that Hoodie Boy is in fact, cute. I had a strong suspicion  that he
was. Maybe it's my many years of boy-watching that allows me to  spot,
unconsciously, clues that a guy is especially cute. It's becoming  rarer and
rarer to spot cute guys the older we all get to be. If Hoodie  wasn't in such a
hurry this morning I'm pretty sure he would have  stopped and initiated some
conversation; I mean, considering how friendly he  was. Then I would have
had time to come up with some hot-shit  type remark, maybe. Hell, I don't
feel like I'm shy anymore, but  it's just that he came up on me so fast and
then kept going past  me before I could think of anything cool to say. He
remembered me  from the other day though, so that's another positive sign. No
matter how young  he looks, he's obviously going to college so he's either
nineteen or  soon will be, and that's certainly not too young for me. Okay, the
next  time we bump into one another I'll initiate the conversation. I
shouldn't have  a problem doing that considering he must be a freshman and
therefore unsure of  himself, plus he seemed pleased we had this brief random
encounter. So  those are positive signs as far as I'm concerned.

I'm  still walking and thinking about Hoodie Boy when it hits me that I'm
now outside Ryan's dormitory.  Huh, I just wandered here without thinking
where I was going. Guess I'll go up  and see if Ryan's getting ready. Flicking
my cigarette butt off the back of  the kid's leg in front of me, I shake my
head because I was sure that butt flick  was going to land in the gravel
area along the hedges. Inside the front  door of the building I walk down the
hall to knock on Chubby's door. No  answer and before knocking again I
remember that Chubby doesn't have a Friday  morning class, so he's sleeping in.

Christ, I'm glad I didn't knock  harder. Damn, I'm missing Chubby a lot. I
drop my backpack and get a 3X5  card out of it to write: 'Bro, can we hookup
tonight? I miss you. Love,  Dylan'. Sliding the card under the door I'm like,
oh fuck, if John  Beverly sees that note he'll probably think it's geeky of
me. Shit, now I  can't quite reach the card to pull it back. Ahh, screw
John Beverly, I  miss Chubby.

On  the second floor I knock on Ryan's door and his roommate, Steve Church,
answers.  He gives me that easy smile of his, saying, "Hey, Dylan, wasssup,
dude?" I  go, "Hi, Steve. Is Ryan around?" He nods his head backwards,
indicating I  should come in, saying, "He's taking a shower, c'mon in." The top
of his head is  level with my forehead so he's about five-foot, eight or
nine-inches tall  and he's got kind of a square body. Somehow he's  still
slim-looking. Brown eyes and hair with his hair cut in a generic  haircut,
probably a Super Cut haircut although certainly not a  recent one. I step inside
and notice right off that the room is very neat,  so I smirk, saying, "I see
Ryan won the neatness battles." He laughs, "Yeah,  it's preferable  keeping
my shit where it belongs rather than listening to him nag me about  it. Ha
ha, he has a nice way of nagging though; I guess I gotta give him  that."

Glancing briefly at his lips, watching them move as he  talks, I confirm my
earlier appraisal that Steve has a very sexy  mouth. Nice bow-shaped lips, dark
pink and slightly fuller than you see  on most guys. He has smallish super
white teeth and, like Lawyer's  mouth, everything about his mouth is real
pink and clean looking. Good  mouth to kiss, except he's straight as an arrow.

The rest of his facial features  are average; nothing special, but not bad
either. He's okay.

Steve  says, "Have a seat," pointing to his desk chair, and I go, "No,
that's alright,  I'm good," as I lean against the wall near his desk. In the
dorm there are two  desks, two cot-sized beds, two chairs, and built in drawers
for clothes. Typical  dorm room with a tile floor and a nice throw-rug
that's probably  one Ryan sent ahead by UPS. Man, our apartment has it all over
dorm rooms.  Plus, in a dormitory you need to use the communal lavatory at
the end of the  hall. Communal everything. For something to say, I ask, "What
do you think of  the communal showers?" He shrugs as he sits at his desk,
"It's  actually what I'm used to. After middle school I went to St. John's
Prep and it was the same thing there." I go, "That's a private high school,
right?" He nods, "Yeah, I went to Salem Middle School and then the  same
private school my dad went to." I mumble, "Cool," and he  chuckles, saying,
"Actually I like communal showers." I'm like, "Why's that?"  He blurts  out a
laughs, "Ya get to see everyone's dick and, dude, you can't believe the
variety." Maybe I can at that, but I merely mutter, "Huh, you're into  dicks,
are ya?" He laughs, "That didn't come out right, did it? No, I'm  straight,
but it's weird the way guys have all different sized  penises. I once saw a
kid with a two inch dick; maybe even less  then two. Obviously it wasn't easy
to get a look at it because, as you  can imagine, he wasn't flashing that
acorn around." I'm laughing, saying, "Get  the hell outta here! Two inch dick?

Surely you exaggerate. Of course I'm  thinking about Timmy, but keeping
that to myself.  Anyway,  we're both kinda grinning, as he goes, "No,
seriously, like I said, it  may have been less then two inches, but why am I'm
talking about my secret  fascination with you? It just came out. You're gonna
think I'm whacked talking  about guys' cocks." I wave my hand at him, mumbling,
"Not at all, Steve. Dicks  are interesting, heh heh." He laughs and blushes,
muttering, "I should never  have opened my mouth." Ryan did tell me that
Steve has no filter between  his brain and what comes out of his mouth. It
makes him uniquely likable if you  ask me.

Steve's rockin' a scraggy sparse beard that's an inch long. It somehow
just doesn't go with his face, so I ask, "How often would you say you shave,
Steve?" I was kinda smirking when I asked that and his hand goes to his face,
 again blushing a little, mumbling, "I need a shave, huh?" I shrug, saying,
 "Not on my account. I'm twenty-one and still don't need to shave and, like
the  kid with the two inch dick, I'm getting a tad paranoid about it.

Anyway, because  of that, I sort of notice other guys' facial hair." He goes,
"Like I notice  other guys' cocks, right?" I mutter, "Yeah, it's almost the
exact same  thing," and he does his easy laugh. Nice guy. Actually if I were
drunk I'd  probably ask him about his own dick; good thing I'm not drunk. With
the  back of my hand against my nose, I ask, "How'd it go with your courses
this  week?" He shrugs, "Three professors appear like they'll be okay, but
in my Applied Multivariate course I've got a real asshole for a
professor." I'm like, "What the fuck was that course you just said?" and he  goes,
"Applied Multivariate? It's statistical analysis with a hyped-up title." I
still don't know what it is, but since I don't care, I just mutter, "Jesus."

Steve points at the toiletry kit on the desk next to the one he's sitting
at, telling me what I already know, "There's your barber clippers and stuff."

I  nod, "Yeah, I know," and he goes, "Yeah, well I asked Ryan for a free
haircut, you know, since he's got these barber clippers and all, but he said
he  only does buzz cuts." I go, "He does a wicked fade haircuts, although I
wouldn't  recommend it," and Steve shakes his head, "That's too severe a
haircut for  my taste. I'm just a regular haircut kind of guy." I say, "A
regular haircut  kind of guy who needs a shave," and he laughs, mumbling, "You're
as bad as  Ryan. I'll bet you're a good nagger."

Ryan  comes in before I can reply to Steve's nagger comment. He's got a
towel around his waist and he's carrying his own toiletry kit. He gives me  a
big smile, saying, "Hi, Dylan," and leans over to give my lips a quick kiss,
 asking, "How ya doing?" Wow, that caught me off guard again and I glance
at  Steve's reaction. He's got the wide-eyed look, the same one he had when
Ryan  kissed me the other day. I say, "I'm doing good, Ryan, how 'bout you,
boss?" He  chuckles, then says to Steve, jokingly, "I'm Dylan's boss." Steve
says, "I guess  you're my boss too. I mean, how do you like the way I put
all my shit away?"  Ryan glances around, then asks, "You did all this when I
was in the shower?"  Steve's like, "You're goddamn right I did. I couldn't
take anymore of  your subtle nagging." Ryan grins at me, nodding his head at
Steve, and says, "He  thinks I nag him, can you believe that shit?" I roll my
eyes, muttering  sarcastically, "It's inconceivable," then, looking at my
watch, I go,  "We've got almost a half hour. Do you wanna get something to
drink at the Quad?"  Ryan drops his towel and gets a pair of boxer shorts out
of a drawer, saying,  "You know I hate the crowds in the Quad, but I would
like a coffee. Maybe you'd  be kind enough to get me one." I go, "Yeah, I'll
go in for the coffees."  Pulling on his boxer underwear, he looks at me,
saying, "Thanks, babe. I'll  buy."

When  Ryan dropped his towel I looked right over at Steve 'cause I knew
he'd be  gawking at Ryan's cock. I take it, from the expression on Steve's
face,  this must be the first time he's seen that monster of a penis. Even for a
 guy who's intentionally been looking at guy's penises since  freshman year
at prep school, I'll bet he hasn't seen one like Ryan's very  often, if
ever. I don't blame him for gawking. Jesus, that's a hellava cock  hanging
there, looking dangerous as it's swinging between Ryan's hot  and hairy legs. I
can't help but think Steve's probably wondering how that  big hunk of meat
can possibly fit up my ass. Nah, it's more  likely Steve doesn't think about
things like that at  all.

Ryan's  oblivious to Steve's gawking as he gets dressed, asking me, "Do you
want to do  whatever homework assignments we get from the
monotone-speaking, Professor  Armbruster, after class with me?" Ah ha, like that wouldn't
lead into sex. I'm  like, "Jeez, I should have thought of that, Ryan, but I
already promised  Rob I'd get together with him after class and do whatever
assignments he and I  get today. You're more than welcome to work with us at
the apartment." He's  putting a sock on, but stops and gives me a 'look', then
says, "Um, no thank  you." I'm like, "Why can't you and Rob get along?" He
finishes putting on the  sock, saying, "Did you promise Rob you'd work with
him, or did he tell you  that's what you're going to do?" I give him a
disgusted look and he waves his  hand at me, saying, "Oh, never mind. Forget I
said that, lets drop the subject.  We've covered it before anyway." Steve's
not saying anything, so as not to  ignore him, and to change the subject as
requested, I ask, "Do you have  a class today, Steve?" He grins, "On a Friday?
Are you out of your  fucking mind?" I nod my head, mumbling, "Yeah, we
avoided Friday classes  last year too, but this year I wanted to be in at least
one class with my best  friend, Ryan." Ryan goes, "Awww, that's sweet." I
add, "This Friday's Modern  Society course was the only one that we could take
together." Ryan pats my  shoulder, saying, "Lets get  those coffees." Steve
says, "You guys are tight, aren't you? That's  so cool. Me and Brian Shaw
were really close friends, like you  guys. That's until he joined the
friggin' Navy." Smiling at him, not  knowing what to say to that, I give a hand
wave, muttering, "See ya later,  Steve," and he goes, "Oh, wait a second,
Dylan." I stop and look at him. He  goes, "Heh heh, I heard it through the
grapevine that you're a super barber,  so...?" and he points at his head. I go, "Oh
yeah. Sure, Steve, I'll give you a  haircut. Um, sometime this weekend,
okay?" He goes, "Thanks, that'd be awesome!"  as I follow Ryan out the door.

We're  both wearing backpacks and as we walk toward the Quad, I mutter, in
a joking manner, "Yo, Ryan, didn't you put me in charge of backpacks?"  He
seemed okay in his dorm room, but now he's acting moodily quiet again so
maybe asking for his backpack will make up for not doing homework with  him
after class. He snorts out a grunt, like he's annoyed, saying, "For
Christ-sakes, Dylan, I'm not that big of an asshole that I'd  expect you to carry my
fucking backpack. I was just messin'  with you yesterday when I said that."

I'm like, "Hey! I knew you were  kidding, and just now so was I. Jeez, give
me a little credit." He bumps  into my side, "No, uh uh, you weren't
kidding. You would have carried  it for me if I handed it over to you." I make a
face at him, like, 'Get  real!'  Hmmm, what did Ryan say was the reason Mike
dumped him?  Something about Ryan being too gloomy... something like that.

I'm  starting to see what he means. Still, I don't know, I somehow feel
responsible for Robby and Ryan thinking they hate each other, so I'm  probably
trying too hard to make up for it with Ryan. The truth is... it's  actually
Ryan who's created a self-imposed exile from doing anything with  Robby. Robby
didn't mind that I invited Ryan to dinner the other night. I will  say
though, Robby does seem more than okay about Ryan's self  imposed exile.  Fuck
it though, I feel bad for Ryan, that's all.  I try being friendly again,
asking, "What are you doing after lunch?" He  shrugs, and I add, "Rob will be at
the ballpark with Golden doing some kind  of baseball mentoring. You and I
could hang out if you're free." He shrugs,  saying, "If Rob will let you, ya
better ask permission first..." We're at the  bottom of the steps to the
Quad, as I go, "Um, it's not a matter of  Rob letting me. Why do you need to
be such an asshole, Ryan? I'm trying to be  friendly but you're not making it
easy." He shrugs, "I have no fucking idea  what you mean by that. Just drop
it, okay?" and he holds out a five dollar  bill, saying, "The coffees,
remember?" Taking an exasperated deep breath, I  mumble, "Coffees, right," and
grab the five bucks.


Taking off my backpack, I say, "Watch my backpack, okay?" Ryan nods as I
start up the steps, then he calls after me, "I'll be over at that bench near
the  trash can." I wave, indicating I heard him, and he carries my backpack
with  him as he walks toward the bench. Inside the Quad I get in the coffee
line  trying to figure out Ryan's mood. He probably assumed we'd get
together after  class and study together, or whatever. A logical assumption all
things  considered, but still, is it such a big deal that he'd get  all moody
like this simply because I can't hang out until after lunch?  I could be
misreading him; maybe he doesn't think it's a big deal one way or the  other.

Maybe he's got some other problem I don't know about. Or maybe he's  turned
into an asshole.

Carrying the two paper cups of coffees outside I see Ryan standing  next to
the bench laughing with a guy I don't know. The other guy leaves as  I'm
coming up to Ryan, who's still chuckling. He takes his coffee, mumbling,
"Thanks," then says, "That guy is in one of my classes. The kid struck up a
conversation with me the minute I sat down in the seat in front of him. At
first I'm like, what's up with this guy? He turns out to be a hot shit though.

He was trying to talk me into a card game he's setting up for tonight, and
then every Friday night I suppose." We sit down as I ask, "You gonna  play
cards tonight?" He shrugs, "I don't know. Maybe if Steve comes along I
will." Huh, why didn't he ask me to come along? I probably couldn't go anyway;
Robby will have something planned for us tonight, and I definitely want to
include Chubby in whatever we do. I mean, a Friday night in college, ya
gotta do something.

While  drinking our coffees we have a smoke and Ryan's more talkative now,
but  it's mostly about the way he and Mike broke up. Ryan prefers to think
of it  as Mike dumping him. He's asking me questions about how he should have
 handled the various  situations Mike and he found themselves in.  Like I'm
some kind of expert on relationships, which I'm not! There's not  much I
can say because from the examples Ryan gives it's like I'd be on  Mike's side.

Then we make our way to the lecture hall and sit in the upper half  of the
hundred-seat room. We chose this course to fulfill a required  elective in
the humanities for both of us. It's not a junior course per se. Any  student
can elect it. After the orientation for this course the other  day Ryan
explained how we can do make-up work, or replace a bad test grade,  by writing
an easy extra credit paper. He said, Ryan, not the  professor, that we could
simply copy from short articles online. He had to  tell me because I didn't
pay too much attention to the orientation lecture.  For one thing Professor
Armbruster spoke in a boring quiet monotone.  Today, in our first official
class, he's still speaking in a monotone, but  he's doing it loudly. That
seems contradictory, but there it  is.

Glancing  around at the back of the students' heads in front of me, I stop
at  one. Holy  shit, I think that's the back of Hoodie Boy's head. If so,
that's very  fortuitous; us in the same class and all... hmmm, fate? The
suspected Hoodie  Boy is sitting about ten rows right in front on  the end. I
always prefer end seats myself, when available. Huh, Hoodie  Boy isn't wearing
his hood in class, but I see a hood hanging over the back of  his seat. Damn,
that hoodie doesn't look right though, somehow. Jeez,  if it's him though,
he has a nice shaped head of pale red hair in a buzz  cut. Oh boy, if that's
him, and he's the one in ten, I'm gonna make friends, fer  sure!  From our
brief encounter a little while ago I know he  has blue eyes and a pale creamy
complexion, sans freckles. Yeah, but I  gotta wonder where he was hurrying
to earlier because he had plenty of  time to make this class on time.

Out of my peripheral vision I see Ryan's taking notes so I listen to
Professor Armbruster for a bit, frown and look over at Ryan's notes trying to
get a grasp of what the professor's talking about. It's too soon for me to  be
in the proper frame of mind for this classroom lecture stuff. Probably by
the  end of next week I'll get with the program. Back to staring at the kid
who might  be Hoodie Boy and, uh oh, trouble. He just turned to look left,
toward the  aisle, and his nose doesn't match the nose I remember seeing this
morning.  Yes, but the three times I've seen him have all been full face
views. From the  quick profile view just now it looked like he has a ski nose
and it didn't  look like that seeing him from the front. Oh man, I'm pretty
sure that's  not the same hoodie sweatshirt either. A ski nose and different
sweatshirt?  Nah, that doesn't bode well for him being Hoodie Boy.  Balls!
I finally need to admit that it's not him. Oh well, I try listening to  the
lecture now and occasionally try reading Ryan's notes. Approximately  half
a lifetime later, the professor says, "That's it for today. I appreciate
those of you who paid attention. Please read the first fifty pages before next
 week's class." Fifty pages, what the fuck? Everyone gets up at the same
time and  there's mumblings and a few laughs as I gawk down at the redhead. He
gets up  talking to the girl next to him. They're both grinning and I get a
full look at  him as they begin walking up towards me. It's not Hoodie,
although this guy  ain't bad at all. You know who this kid is; he's the third
baseman with the  cannon for an arm. The kid I was impressed with while
watching the ball players  in the stands with Beth and Frankie. It's him, I'm
sure of it. The red hair and  all... huh. When they're right next to me the girl
giggles, leans into and  hugs the impostor Hoodie Boy. A
boyfriend/girlfriend situation no  doubt. Well, lookie here... not only does he have a skinny ski
nose, his mouth is  too wide for his face. I gawk at the guy, who's paying
no attention to me, and  conclude he's the team's third baseman, I'll be
damned. Ryan's grumpy,  "What are you waiting for, Dylan? Let's get out of
here." I give a cranky, "I  was waiting for you," and we get in the flow of
traffic going up the steps to  the exit.

Outside the Ferguson Building, to make-up for being cranky inside, I give
Ryan's shoulders a hug, asking him again, "We're getting together later,
right?"  He goes, "Text me, I don't know what I'm doing yet. Um, I couldn't
help but  notice instead of taking notes you were ogling that redheaded kid ten
rows  in front of us." I give him this look, like 'Say what?', then mutter,
"I  wasn't ogling anyone, I'm just not in the flow of things yet. Can I
make a copy of your notes?" He says, "I suppose, but I'm not your secretary."

I  go, "For one thing, there are no such things as secretaries anymore. The
uber-PC term is now administrative assistant, and for another thing, fuck
you!  Keep your notes; I'll survive somehow without them."  He goes, "Don't
be so touchy. Steve has a printer that makes copies, so stop in my room and
we'll make a copy." Huh, with the back of my hand at my nose, I go, "Damn,
I can't do that. Rob's already waited almost an hour for me. His class
started a half hour earlier then mine and my class is twenty minutes longer
then  his." Ryan pulls my hand away, saying, "Don't do that, Dylan." I look at
him and  he grins, saying, "Or I'll need to give you a spanking." We both
grin as I  mutter, "Horrors." He pats my shoulder, saying, "Text me, maybe we
can get  together this afternoon," and he walks to the right as I go left,
toward  the parking lot.

I'm thinking maybe I won't text him this afternoon. Mister Gloomy  is
becoming a pain in my ass. I've got better things to think about than  what's
wrong with Ryan?, like Robby. He's sitting in his pickup  listening to 98.5,
The Sports Hub, on the radio when I walked right up to  the driver's window
and tap on it smiling at him. Down comes the window and,  with a straight
face, he asks, "Can I do something for you, young man? Are you  looking for your
big brother who goes to this college?" I lean in and kiss  his lips, then
say, "I'm looking for my man, who's head of our household." He  goes, "Well
get in and I'll drive you around campus; maybe we can find him."  Grinning, I
go around and get in the passenger seat, then slide over  to Robby and we
have a fifteen second really hot sloppy wet kiss. I hug him  around the neck
trying to remember if there was a tiny bit of tension  between us this
morning. In the back of my mind there was something that I  can't quite put my
finger on. Then I remember it was Robby being real serious  asking me, 'We're
good, right?' It was just before we went our  separate ways. Not sure why he
asked that, and seeing we're obviously 'good'  now, I don't mention it.

Instead I say, "I've got to read fifty fucking pages my  first day of class for
that sick course. Can you believe that shit?" He backs  out of the parking
spot, saying, "Well, yeah. It's a one day a week class,  Dylan. And get this...

 as it turns out I've got no assignment to do for my class."  He drives us
across route 114 with me saying, "Hey, no sense in me holding you  up while
I memorize fifty pages of facts. We'll go straight to the Mall and I'll  do
this later." He laughs as he turns into the entrance for The Royal Crown
Estates, which is the pompous name of our apartment complex. Parked close to
the  back door, we're getting out of the pickup as Robby say, "I've got a
better  idea. I'll keep you company while you read those fifty pages."

Resigned, I  mutter, "Yes, mommy."

Inside  we drop our backpacks on a chair as Robby asks, "Want anything to
drink?" I  shake my head, then open my backpack and take out my Modern
Society text  book. Plopping down on the sofa, I turn to the first chapter titled
'Pop Culture' and read the introduction quickly. Robby gets a bottle of OJ
and  sits next to me watching me read until I burst out laughing, asking,
"Are you  going to stare at me all the way through the fifty pages?" He nods
his  head, grinning, "Yep, I like looking at you. You're pretty." I go, "Oh
please!  Guys aren't pretty!" I say that, but I've seen a few exceptional
looking guys whose  looks border on pretty. I've also seen straight guys who
are cuter and  better looking than their girlfriends. Taking a deep breath,
like I'm doing  heavy lifting, I continue reading with Robby still staring at
me.  I start purposely moving my lips as I read, like I'm some kind of
retard. Robby laughs out loud, then gets his arm across my shoulders and gets
in  tight next to me, saying, "I want to read this too. It's interesting." It
takes  an hour to read the fifty pages. Finished I look at Robby, mumbling,
"It is kind  of interesting, isn't it?" Robby goes, "Almost like reading
People  magazine." He takes the book from my hands and drops it on the  floor;
then, without either of us saying anything, we begin a hot make-out  on the
sofa. Oh my God, I'm so into Robby. Everything about him is perfect, and
he's not the least bit gloomy like you know who. Robby's the pretty boy, not
me.

It's  kind of a wild make-out lying on the sofa and wrestling with each
other as our  lips and tongues hungrily suck and lick together. I grab a
fistful of his  two-tone blond hair with him on his back and me on top of him.

After  another lips smacking kiss I lift my head and stare into his bright blue
 eyes, then bite my bottom lip thinking how thrilling it is to be with him
like this. After exchanging feelings of love through our eyes, we go back
to licking and sucking lips and tongues. I lightly drag my teeth  down
Robby's pink tongue, then our teeth scrape together as we kiss  and take turns
sucking on each other's top lip. It's like there's nothing  else existing in
our world except us and this sofa. We'd probably be  embarrassed if someone
was watching and listening to our murmurs and moans as  sexual arousal
reaches uncharted waters with our cocks pulsating in our  underpants, dripping
precum. How to predict the times when we're both  sexually hot like this. Times
when we drive each other mad with desire; it  just happens on its own.  So
sexually hot we're grabbing at each other's jeans now, unbuttoning  them and
pulling down zippers. Then clumsy rustling around on the sofa  for a few
seconds getting our pants and jockey shorts off, flinging them to  the floor.

After pulling our sweatshirts over our head we flop on the sofa  again
squirming against each other's naked body. We're getting sweaty as  our hard
boners slide together while our faces rub back and forth spreading  mixed
saliva. It gets a little grungy which only adds to our mutual arousal. I  don't
even remember by now how we started this perfect sexual  encounter.

Gasping,  then in an almost whine, Robby says, "Get up, Dylan. I'm like,
"Huh?" and lift  up looking at him quizzically, not sure what he means. He's
sliding out  from under me, gasping, "Lean over the arm of the sofa, babe." I
nod, turn  around on my knees and lean my belly on the arm of the sofa.

There's an end  table in from of me and that's where I put my hands to steady
myself. Robby  smacks my ass, SMACK!" mumbling, "Get tight against the arm,"

so I spread my  knees and snuggle up to the arm with my boner against my
belly, flat up  against the padded upholstery on the inside of the arm. Robby
rustles  around behind me with my asshole quivering with anticipation. The
wet head of  his cock pushes at my asshole, then, "Oooh, mmmm,"  it's inside
me pressing against my prostate gland making my shoulders shudder. Robby's
hips  hump once forcing an inch and a half of his boner's shaft up my ass,
then  he leans forward slowly and the rest of it slides very tightly up
inside me as we both go, "Ooooh, aaah." His cock is totally up my ass  with his
crotch pressing against my buttocks while his hands massage my  shoulders. A
buzzing chill runs down my spine as the pain of entry fades and  then
disappears.

Robby's  puffing out short burst of air while letting my rectum get used to
his fat  boner. I've been told by a few guys who I've had sex with more
than once,  including Robby who's fucked me the most by a wide margin, that I
have a magic  ass because it's tight and elastic no matter how often I fuck.

All I know is my entire rectum is like one big nerve ending, favoring
pleasure  sensations.  A freak of nature perhaps. Sure, it hurt  initially from
large quick intrusions, but can turn things around  quickly to the pleasure
mode, and then it just intensifies the longer and harder  I'm fucked. That's
the facts of the matter for my ass, although I can't speak  for anyone
else's ass. Maybe thirty seconds pass with Robby just humping  against my butt
cheeks without pulling back, and then he cups my shoulders with  both hands
and does a number of tight steady full thrusts. I can tell he's  leaking a lot
of precum because each trusts of his boner moves smoother then the  one
before it. I hear him do a deep breathy exhale, then mutter, "Here we  go," and
from experience with Robby I know this is going to be another  hard fast
ride to glory, and immediately my ears fill with the,  "Slapslapslapslap,"

sounds of his crotch and the inside of his thighs smacking  into my buttocks as
his really hard fat boner rides back and forth in my ass.  It's steady and
fast creating a blizzard of sexual pleasure  sensations. I moan, pushing my
ass up with my back arching entering a world  where only  Robby and I exist.

My  sex buddies who have fucked climaxes out of me the fastest are led by
Timmy  Dulson, the Marietta boys with a two inch cock. The bulbous head of
his  boner makes up the majority  of his cock and some part of that fat head
constantly  stimulates my  prostate. It's like constant maximum prostate
stimulation that  quickly milks my balls. Tracy brings on the second fastest
climaxes; two  and a half to three minutes of some of the hardest fastest
fucking ever. Then  Ryan's next when he feels like doing it fast, and Willie's
close behind. Then,  believe it or not, Ray Reeves is among the fastest too.

Every one of  them, except Timmy, can also drag out an incredible, almost
unbelievably long  luscious fuck that gets me groveling in a sea of sexual
pleasure and begging for  a climax before they're finished with my ass. Then
there's Robby  who has brought me to climax as fast as Timmy at times, and
that's  mostly because he gets me incredibly sexily aroused with foreplay;
gets me sexually excited like nobody else can come close to, plus I love  him.

His cock is just as fat, although nowhere near as long, as the biggest
cocks I've experienced, like Ryan's and Ray's. They're the heavy weights,
although I can barely stand Ray as a person, and I'm not in love with Ryan.  So,
no matter if  Robby's doing a slow lover's fuck with me, or a fast get our
rocks  off one, he does me best of anyone... he's my man! The best sex I've
ever  had in my life I've had with Robby, and obviously love has a lot to  do
with that.

This afternoon's extemporaneous recreational sex, initiated by  Robby, is
in this partially new position for us... utilizing the arm of the  sofa. I like
it because every thrust against my ass humps my boner against  the inside
of the sofa's arm, and in my mind I pretend Robby's squeezing my  boner with
each thrust of his hard cock up inside me. My eyes close and I  can picture
him squeezing my cock while his boner repeatedly disappears up  my ass. He's
slamming it back and forth inside me now and I'm going, "Oh,  ooh, oooh!"

with every thrusts. There are lots of chills and thrills during a  fast fuck
like this. There are also so many sensations blossoming from my  rectum's
prostate and anus simultaneously it's almost like an embarrassment  of riches.

It can get a little wild too with Robby getting reckless  with his
thrusting, both of us on the fast track to climax. My orgasm  picks-up momentum
building incredibly fast and the anticipation of climax has us  both humping and
thumping; me against the arm of the sofa and Robby slamming  against me.

He's sort of hopping off the sofa when it hits me that my orgasm is  about
ready to burst, and then with a squeal it erupts with a stream of  cum shooting
from my hard boner with no place to go except to drool out  between the
sofa's arm and my belly. My whole body is shaking, the head of  my cock burning
as I push back away from the arm and Robby climaxes inside me at  the same
time my second stream of cum is flying up to splatters on my  stomach. Then,
"Ooooh," drools of cum as I get my hand under me squeezing and  tightly
stroking my cock. More drools and now I feel faint. Taking deep breaths  as the
burning subsides, I'm smiling now, shaking my head at my bizarre orgasm.  I
make a mental note to not have my cock plastered against anything at blast
off. I should have pushed back when I felt it ready to blow, giving my
spunk  some breathing room.

Robby's breathing noisily and deeply as he slowly slides his cock in his
own cum before pulling it out of my ass entirely. Sighing he lays on  his
back on the sofa with his legs resting on the arm, a leg on either  side of me.

I wait a few seconds savoring the last twinges of climax  that buzz around
my groin, then turn around and grin at him, saying, "Okay,  head of the
household, here's today's pop quiz: what was that sex act we  just had called?"

He pretends to think hard, scrunching his eyebrows  and lips, then says,
"Um, afternoon recreational sex?" making a question  out of it. I go, "Very
good, but what type of recreational sex?" Again with  the pretend deep
thinking, and, "Um, unexpected?" I go, "No, it's  officially called extemporaneous
recreational sex," and then  I fall forward on top of him, my chest on his.

We kiss a couple of times  and then I just lay here with him lightly rubbing
his hands up and down my  back. Nice, but we're sweaty and my cum is cooling
between us; not that  that's necessarily a bad thing.

We lie together like this catching our breath and letting our pounding
hearts settle down. I could take a nap lying on Robby like this, except our
cocks are squished together; his cock sloppy with his cum and my cum  mostly
on my belly, which makes things kinda sticky. The cum quickly  transforms
from a milky white creamy substance to  a transparent wet one. When it's cooled
off it's not  especially pleasant having it spread between us. Lifting my
head, I  seriously say, "Did you know that cum doesn't travel up from our
testicles  at climax?" He blurts out a laugh, then goes, "No. I didn't know
that. I  thought it did." He said that in a pretend serious manner, mimicking
me, like we're having a philosophical discussion. I go, "Well, it's
partially manufactured in our balls but stored behind the bladder ready for  climax
when a person gets properly aroused... I think. Our balls  manufacture the
stuff and store enough behind the bladder for a number of  ejaculations," He
goes, "Frankly, it's no fun knowing that. It's more  erotic to picture it
churning around in our nuts until climax. Don'cha think?" I  nod,
"Definitely! That's the way I think of it and I'm not about to change just  because I'm
wrong." He grins, "You're never wrong," and we kiss some more and  rub our
noses together, then I slide down his body and take his damp sticky cock  in
my fingers. Looking up at Robby, I say, "I feel like sucking your cock."

He shrugs, "Go ahead," and I do. Grungy, yes, of course it is! I don't mind
it  though because it's our grunge.

Robby  puts his hands behind his head and I slurp on his cock, mostly
cleaning it  at first. It stays limp for two full minutes, but I preserver and
that fat penis  of Robby's finally starts getting firm again. Taking his
slippery penis  from my mouth I stroke it about ten times, grinning and watching
Robby  biting his bottom lip while arching his back off the sofa. Still
holding  his hard cock in my fist, I walk up the sofa on my knees, one on either
side of  him. When my ass is over his latest boner, with me still holding
it in my fist, but behind me now, we look into each other's eyes  for a few
seconds, then Robby says, "I dare you," and I drop my ass a little,  then
slide his cock's head to my asshole, hesitate a second and then sit on  it all
the way down to his crotch. Grinning I say, "Didn't hurt a bit," and  Robby
goes, "Ow." My cock got kinda hard while sucking Robby's, so I give my six
inch pleasure rod a few strokes and, "Mmmm, nice..."

Moving  around a little on the top of his thighs, his boner inside me
presses against my prostate with my dick now really getting hard. Then I  simply
lift up on my knees a little, then drop down on his boner again,  lift and
drop until I'm in a nice rhythm and the sensations from millions of  nerve
endings are singing to us again. It takes a while but I  start feeling the
beginning of another orgasm so I drop down and stop,  sensations still
sizzling in my rectum. Robby's sucking on his lips, then  he mutters, "Don't stop,"

and I whine, "My thigh muscles are getting  sore." He waves his fingers,
like, "Come here," saying, "Lean down to me." I lay  on his chest, pulling his
boner forward until it almost comes out of my  ass. Robby gets his arms
around my back and begins humping his hips up off  the sofa, driving his boner
back and forth in my ass. Oh God! In this  position his boner puts pressure
right on my prostate and within a minute I  squeal with my mouth on his
shoulder as cum streaks out wetting both our chest,  then another little streak,
my body tight, my stomach muscles clenching  and getting one last little
spurts of cum to shoots out. I'm  gasping and shaking at the incredible
sensation and then sigh as Robby  grunts and shoots another load of spunk into my
bowels.

We're  really sweaty now as I'm limping lying on top of him, his sloppy
cock out of my  ass now and against my butt cheek. There's our normal heavy
breathing after sex  with our hearts thumping for a minute, then a mutual sighs
and Robby rolls  me off him onto the floor. I'm like, "Hey!" and he sits up
chuckling and  reaching a hand down to help me up. We both look at the wet
spots around us on  the sofa, new spots. We look at each other and shrug,
then he goes, "This sofa  is beginning to look like the seat in my pickup." I
go, "Nah, it's got a long  way to go before it comes close to the cum shots
we've had on that  pickup's front seat. Let's take  a shower," and he says,
"Then we'll buy you new sneakers at the Mall." I nod,  "Then lunch." We get
up walking towards the bedroom with Robby asking,  "Where do you want to eat
lunch?" I'm like, "One of the concession stands at the  food court is fine
by me." Robby asks, "You gonna watch us practice after that?"  I go, "Yeah,
I think I will." To hell with texting Ryan.


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


donnymumford@outlook.com

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

Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine  published
and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them  for
next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They  are about a 19
year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And
there is  a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out
by  typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books
can  be found in some detail there. Thank you.


Donny  Mumford


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

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