Date: Fri, 16 Jun 2017 19:17:36 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE    Chapter  47

DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter  47

by  Donny Mumford

We walk into the  library where there's a fire blazing away in the
fireplace. It's a real  fire made from kindling and logs; not a gas fireplace.
Willie looks surprised,  saying, "Damn, that was nice of Paul to get a fire going
for us. I didn't expect  that." As soon as we sit in matching leather
armchairs Martha comes  in carrying a tray with two Manhattan cocktails that her
husband, Paul, mixed for us. Willie goes, "Oh my, thank you, Martha, and
thank  Paul for the fire too; it's a nice surprise." She smiles, "You've had a
tough  week, William. We're both happy you're staying in tonight with your
good  friend, Dylan, and we wanted to make it nice for you boys." Willie's
face  tightens-up and I expect some more tears but none materialize. He
mumbles,  "That's very thoughtful of you."

When she leaves, I'm  like, "Jeez, she's nice," and Willie says, "Yes, they
both are. Um, let's put  some music on, Dylan," and he gets up to look
through a stack of CDs. He chooses  his latest favorite which is a very old one.

It's by the band, "Hootie and  the Blowfish', titled, 'Cracked Rear View'.

I know at least one  cut from that CD because it's played as an 'oldie' on
the radio. Willie says,  "Did you know this was the best-selling album in
1995?" I shrug, "Not really,"  and Willie goes, "Well, heh heh, I didn't know
back then either since I was  only a couple of months old at the time."

Willie puts the CD in a player,  saying, "There were four hit singles from this
one album." I nod,  "Really? What are they?" and he ticks them off on his
finger, "The  first one was, 'I only Wanna Be With You', then, `Time', 'Let Her
Cry'  and 'Hold My Hand'." I shrug, "I think the only one I've heard a few
times is,  'I Only Wanna Be With You'." Willie goes, "Yeah,  and I wish you
only wanted to be with me... heh heh." I do a long  exasperated exhale, and
he says, "Anyway that was the biggest hit the band  ever had and I read
somewhere that they needed to reach an  out-of-court-settlement with Bob Dylan
for unauthorized use of his lyrics in  that song. You know, to avoid being
sued." I mutter, "I guess Dylan needed the  money."

I'm not all that  interested in that band although Willie obviously is, so
I ask, "How'd you  get hooked on this CD?" He goes, "My roommate. He played
it all the time and  sang along with Hootie." Nodding my head like that
explains it,  I drink some of my Manhattan. Yep, just as strong as the ones Rob
and I had  in the restaurant last week but somehow this is smoother going
down.  Probably an eighty-dollar bottle of bourbon at the Worthington
household  compared to a thirty-dollar bottle at the restaurant. There is a
difference.

As the music comes on I  spot an old-time photograph album on an end table
and pick it up. Opening  it, I go, "Pictures of you, Willie. Old time
photographs." He goes, "Oh fuck!  Yeah that was before cellphone cameras. Back
then people had to buy cameras and  then they took rolls of film to be
developed, um, some place." I go,  "Yeah I know. I actually like looking at these
photos better than on a  cellphone." He comes over with his drink and sits on
the arm of my chair  pointing out things in the photos. "That's my Uncle
Thomas holding my cousin,  Tommy. What a jerk-off he turned-out to be; Tommy I
mean, not my uncle." I turn  the page and he goes, "That's me at the Jardin
du Luxembourg in Paris when  I was ten-years-old... and here I am at the
Eiffel Tower, obviously." I'm like,  "Holy shit you were really fuckin' cute,
Willie!" He shrugs, saying, "These  photos are from my first Paris trip. It
was with my Grandparents, not my  parents. This whole page is me at different
tourist sites in  Paris."

Looking at more photos  of Willie I mumble, "There were cellphones when you
were ten." He  goes, "There were, yes, but the cameras in cellphones
weren't worth a shit in those days. Grandfather had  some kind of elaborate Canon
camera." We look at more pictures with Willie and  his grandparents as he
tells me where they were taken and then he abruptly  takes the album from me
and closes it, saying, "We've seen enough pictures  of me." I guess that
Paris trip was reminding him of his  Grandfather.

He sits back  down opposite me in a leather chair and asks how things are
for  me at Merrimack. We exchange college lies for a while. Well, not lies
exactly, more like exaggerations. I can be kinda funny some times and manage
to  get a couple of chuckles out of Willie; the first ones today. The
bourbon  is probably helping to mellow him out a little too. In the  background
Hoodie's singing, 'Time, why you punish me? Like a friend whose  gone, you
left me crying.' Willie sings along but he doesn't have as good a  voice as Rob
and Willie's eyes get wet as he sings the words. He sounds okay  when
singing with this Hootie guy though. When that song is  over Willie tells me,
"Hootie's real name is Darius Rucker and he formed  the band in college. I
forgot which college. Wait... it was in North Carolina I  think." I'm like, "Uh
huh," and he adds, "The band won a Grammy for this  album." I ask, "So what
happened to it? The band I mean." Willie says,  "Darius wanted to become a
country music artist so he broke-up the band. He  was the first black country
artist to have a number-one single on the Hot  Country Chart."

When something  interests Willie, he dives in head-first and submerges
himself in the topic.  Keeping that in mind I'm not asking anymore questions
about this group or I'll  hear way more than I need to about 'Hootie and the
Blowfish'. I'm curious about  the band's name of course, but I'll remain
curious about it.

Finished our drinks,  Willie says, "I always feel funny ringing the bell
and having Martha come  to take our order for another drink, so I'll go to the
kitchen and get Paul to  mix us a second round myself." That's considerate
of him, but I've notice when  he's in hotels and restaurants he has no
problem being served and waited on  hand and foot, and he'll complain if, in his
opinion, the service isn't up to  par. It's awkward some times for me when,
for example, he'll complains that the  steak isn't medium rare like he
ordered and have them take it back, or his  coffee isn't hot enough. Shit like
that.

He returns with our  second drinks, saying, "I asked for French onion soup
so Chef says  now it'll be another forty-minutes before dinner. He makes the
 soup from scratch." I'm like, "Oh, um, was he pissed-off that you  asked
for it at the last minute like this?" He shrugs, "I don't think so.  He
didn't seem to be pissed-off although outside the kitchen I did hear  something
clatter against the wall so maybe he threw a pot or something." Yeah,  maybe
he did and I wouldn't blame him.

Willie lights a  cigarette and passes it to me and then lights one for
himself, saying, "See  those vents high on the wall?" I look where he's pointing
as he goes, "They're  strong exhaust fans drawing the air form this room to
the outside. Quiet,  aren't they?" I nod, and he says, "Father smokes
cigars in here and you hardly  notice the smell." I nod, muttering, "Sweet!" then
I mostly listen as  Willie tells me about a trip he took during last year's
spring break. It  was to a private island called Kamalame Cay in the
Bahamas. He says, "All the  meals there are prepared to order; breakfast, lunch
and dinner.  It's like you're own private chef. Oh my God, and the staff
accommodates your every wish. The scuba diving was spectacular too and,"  blah,
blah, blah. I'm not especially interested in the details. Mostly I'm  trying
not to cry at how badly I feel for Willie because he went there alone. It
seems so sad when he adds, "Of course it would have been much better to go
with  someone, especially you, but I didn't know who to ask."  Jesus!
Dinner is finally  served and thankfully when Willie ask if I'd like wine
and I say, "Um, not  really," he turns down Paul's offer even through Paul
tries to talk him  into wine with dinner. Maybe they're hoping Willie will get
drunk to help him  get to sleep tonight. It's so odd having three adults,
the Windells and Chef  Diez, waiting on the two of us. It'd be the three of
them waiting on Willie if I  weren't here. It's awkward for me and I probably
say, 'thank you' too often.  Willie is relaxed after two strong drinks plus
he's of course used to being  waited-on. I will say though he is very
polite to the, um, servants, and he  also says 'thank you' but he says it in more
of an off-hand way than  when I say it.

The dinner begins with  the aforementioned French onion soup which is
delicious. Next there's a  salad of bib lettuces, different colors of baby
tomatoes and slices of  English cucumbers in a sweetish dressing of some kind,
plus warm rolls  and balls of hard unsalted butter. Finished that course I'm
thinking I  probably shouldn't have eaten three rolls with the salad because
I'm  beginning to feel full and I'm now watching the two racks of lamb  being
served. The Chef slices them for us into four lamb ribs each and then
serves a sauce on the side. According to the Chef it's a  Cabernet Sauvignon
wine reduction and Dijon mustard sauce that  taste ten times better than it
sounds. There's creamed spinach and whipped  potatoes that we'll serve
ourselves from the bowls of each, and then it's,  "Bon appetit," from Chef  Diez.

Willie and I both say our thanks and Chef does a little head bow  before
stalking off. Chef Diez is a contradiction between what he says  and his body
language. I listen for something being thrown in the kitchen again  but hear
nothing.

Willie can have all the  creamed spinach he wants but the creamy whipped
potatoes are far and away  the best I've ever had in my life and I take my
share of that. It's almost  like a creamy potato soup but thicker so I can eat
it with a fork. Willie  says there's bone marrow and garlic and other
ingredients mixed in with  the potatoes, none of which I can detect. They simply
taste like  delicious whipped potatoes and if I had brass balls, which I
don't, I would have  asked Martha if there were any leftover whipped potatoes in
the  kitchen. Dessert is white chocolate cheesecake with a dark chocolate
brandy  sauce. Oh my God, it's so rich! Everything is very good and I forget
about  feeling full after the soup, salad, and dinner rolls. Willie and I
both  manage to eat everything and in the end, were scrapping  the desert
plates getting every drip of the sauce.

Sitting back from the  table, everything eaten between us, I ask Willie,
"Do you eat like this  every night you're home?" He goes, "Nooo! Not unless
Mother and Father are here.  Usually if I'm alone I ask for a cheeseburger and
fries or maybe fried  chicken. They're my favorites." I go, "I'll bet the
chef fixes dinners like this  for himself and the Windells on a regular
basis." Willie shrugs, "Maybe, I don't  know. I hope he does." Then Willie
impresses me when he's very gracious  thanking Martha, Paul, and the Chef. We go
back to his room feeling  over-stuffed, but man that was good!
In his  bedroom's sitting area, Willie says, "How about if we watch a movie
 and let the food digest. He dials up Comcast's On Demand and surfs the
movies on HBO deciding on an action flick that was in the theaters like  three
months ago although neither of us saw it. We're both sitting on  chrome and
black leather high-tech chairs with attached foot rests that are
incredibly comfortable. Twenty minutes into the movie Willie's sound sleep  in his
chair. I let him sleep as I watch the rest of the movie. Willie didn't  move
an inch or make a sound from the second he went  to sleep.

Leaving him sleeping I  use the bathroom to take a piss and then wash my
hands and face. We're  clean from the shower and Jacuzzi so no need for
another shower. Willie has  an electric toothbrush that I use, but only after
washing the bristles under  very hot water. I did the same thing before letting
Rob borrow my  toothbrush. I don't think Willie has any more germs than I do
but it's just  something you do before using someone else's toothbrush. Of
course, most people  would rather stick their head in a toilet rather than
use another person's  toothbrush, but we're not like that. We have our
tongues in each other's mouths  or around each other's penis and sometimes in each
other's ass so using a  washed-toothbrush is small potatoes compared to
that. When I've brushed my  teeth, I rinse out the toothbrush really well and
put it back where I found  it.

Looking at the flimsy  top and pants I'm wearing I decide pajamas wouldn't
be any more  comfortable so I'll sleep in what I've got on. First though I
wake Willie,  nudging his shoulder, "Willie, time for bed." He opens his eyes
and smiles, "Hi  Dylan. Is the movie over?" I nod, "Uh huh, c'mon and I'll
help you into the  bathroom." He stands mumbling, "Don't need any help, but
thanks for offering."  He makes a face muttering, "My mouth taste like
shit," and then walks into  the bathroom while I get in his awesome bed. It's
huge and this mattress is the  most comfortable mattress ever. Willie told me
it's a mattress made in Britain  and over here they sell for like
fifteen-thousand dollars. I can't claim it's  worth that much but it is by far the most
comfortable mattress I've ever slept  on. My twin-bed mattress was bought
at Bob's Discount Furniture for $199  but it compares favorably to brand-name
mattresses selling for twice that.  Although Willie's mattress is awesome I
don't believe it's 7500 times  as good as mine, money-wise. Heh heh, we're
smart shoppers, Mom and  me.

Willie comes out of the  bathroom, saying, "You're not sleeping in your
clothes, are you?" I'm like,  "These clothes are exactly like pajamas, Willie."

He goes, "Yeah, but let's  sleep in the nude." Shrugging I pull off the top
and bottoms without getting out  of bed and toss them on the floor where he
tossed his. He gets in bed with his  long dick swinging free. He makes me
grin as he gets under the cover looking  so happy. He snuggles next to me,
murmuring, "Sleeping with you is  such a treat for me, baby." And believe it
or not we go to  sleep.

Every other time I've  ever been naked in bed with Willie we've had sex,
but not tonight. It's  been a sad week for him since his Grandfather's
passing, so this isn't like any  other time. When I'm sure he's sleeping soundly I
wiggle out of his arms and get  out of bed to turn-off all the lights he
left on from the bathroom to the  sitting area to the bedroom. I turn
everything off and now it's pitch black in  here, hmmm? What if I need to take a piss
later tonight? So I feel my way  into the sitting area again, my arms out
in front of me, until I bump into one  of the chairs. Next to it is a small
end table with a lamp that I turn  on and it gives off just enough light that
I can make my way back to bed  without bumping into anything. Climbing in
under the cover I lie on my stomach  with an arm over Willie's back as a
comforting gesture in case he can sense it  in his sleep, and I go to sleep too.

Sunday morning, I  wake-up at nine-thirty and see Willie's still sleeping
so I shut my eyes and try  to remember if there's anything I need to do
today. Mom and Chubby know I'm  here with Willie and not available to help Chubby
with  Sunday brunch. It's rare we don't do that together, but I've been on
my own for brunch at times too; we both have. It's no crisis in either
case. So what else? I don't think there's anything I need to do today.  Rob's
in Westborough working and he'll be there overnight so I go back to sleep.

Sweet!
Willie wakes me saying,  "It's ten-thirty, Dylan. Ya wanna sleep some more
or get up?" He sounds very  close and I open my eyes to see his big eyes six
inches above mine. His  eyes are very bright and he looks well rested.

There's a smile on his face as he  asks, "Can I give you a kiss? Would you
mind?" I shake my head a little and he  kisses my lips. He's a very good kisser
and when I kiss back it turns into a  fifteen second kiss that gets my dick's
attention. Moving my head slightly I  finish the kiss before it gets too
serious. Willie murmurs, "That was  a really nice kiss," and he lies down
beside me saying coyly, "A kiss like  that can sometimes be a prelude to
intimate relations between the kissers." I  grin, mumbling, "If you attack me I'll
scream for Martha or, better yet, I'll  scream for the chef and he might
have one of his pots to throw at you." Willie  grins, "Yeah, he could still be
upset about the late French onion soup request,  but he's off on Sundays." I
go, "Oh, then I guess I better give in to your  inclinations." He goes,
"That'd be best I think."

He kisses my lips  quickly and then asks, "Do you still like sucking
good-looking guy's  dicks?" I nod, "Oh yes, it's a favorite thing of mine to do."

He nods,  muttering, "That's good to hear. Um, how about rimming the ass of
a very  good-looking young man who diligently washed his ass ten minutes ago
and  who you've adored for years?" I go, "Probably not. Not unless I get
overly  aroused from sucking said individual's penis." He nods again, "Oh
good. You  usually get very aroused doing that." He nods his head in the general
area of  his cock and I go under the cover head-first. I'm feeling around
on his body in  the dark. The palms of my hands gently rub over his belly and
down in  between his legs through his pubic hair and then my right hand
goes  around his long penis to stroke it. Willie throws the covers off us,
saying, "I like looking at you."

Stroking his flaccid  penis until it's slightly firm I lick all around the
head before sliding just  the head and foreskin into my mouth for some slow
warm wet licks and then suck  on it inhaling Willie's unique personal scent.

He smells nice but his scent  isn't as noticeable as Rob's. Willie and I
have had sex a hundred times but only a  few times this year and not for like
five or six months so his scent isn't as  prevalent as it was when we were
having sex on a regular basis. Faded scent or  not, it reminds me of my
youth. Stroking the shaft while sucking on the  head gets his cock fairly hard
and I take a couple of inches of shaft in my  mouth and then rub the head
against the inside of my cheek and along  the ripples at the roof of my mouth
and then on the other side of my cheek.  Willie goes, "Ummm, oooh," and
squirms around on the mattress, his fingers  ruffling through my hair.

When I feel, his cock  is hard enough I take it out of my mouth and push it
against his belly. The  bottom couple of inches are surrounded by his curly
dark pubic hairs  while the head reaches slightly above his 'innie' belly
button.  I do a number of long licks from the bottom of his nuts  up the
shaft and finally suck the head inside my mouth again and lick it like a
lollypop. Willie moves on the bed moaning, "Ooooh! Ummm, oooh," while pulling my
hair a little and moving his legs. Precum coats my tongue as his cock grows
 into a very hard boner. Taking it out of my mouth again I do more long
licks up the underside of his hard-long cock, and then lick up both sides.

Pulling it away from his stomach I cover the top of his boner with saliva
making wet mouth sounds and then slurp on four-inches of it inside my mouth
again getting a drool of precum that slides down my throat. The entire  length
of his hard boner is covered with wet warm saliva by now. It's  slippery
with my saliva and my chin is wet with it too. My cock throbs in  its
tightness as again I  pull his boner from my mouth and push it against his belly
while  I lick and suck on his balls covering his scrotum with spit, then I  lap
under his nuts close to his asshole. Willie shakes and shudders,  moaning,
"Oooooh, oooh, mmmm." He slides his ass up just enough so I can do  a very
wet warm long lick across his anus, then again and again. Willie  rolls away
going up on his side with his back to me as his  body shudders with him
moaning, "I'm gonna cum."

Precum rolls down my  own hard boner as I push Willie the rest of the way
over onto his stomach  and get between his legs on my knees. Spreading my
knees as far apart as I can I  put the head of my boner at his asshole and lean
forward. He goes, "Aaaah,  oooh!" as the fat head of my cock forces its way
past his sphincter. His head  moves from side to side near the foot of the
bed as he says, "Ummm,  Dylan, mmmm, oooh, fuck..." Going up on my knees a
little I do a good hip thrust  and watch three-inches of my boner disappear
up his ass. Fascinating! He squirms  and moans some more as I push on his
back with both hands and lean forward  forcing my boner the rest of the way up
his ass. His feet go up in the air as I  hump against his firm buttocks.

It's like humping against two five-pound bags of  sugar. That's how firm his
ass cheeks are.

Willie's rectum is not  as tight as Pony's, which is very tight. The
tightness of Rob's rectum  is somewhere in between the tightness of Willie's and
Pony's. All three have very fine rectums though. The degree of tightness of
a  guy's rectum could be Nature's doing, or a lesser tightness could be
caused  by someone who routinely has a big cock up his ass. Ya can't  be sure
with assholes. For example, everyone says my rectum is very  tight. Hell, John
Smith even doubted I was doing 'it' enough with my  boyfriend because my
anus is so tight. So, my ass is tight even though I can't  imagine there are
all that many guys who take it up the ass more  often than myself, plus Rob
has a very fat  cock.

Not hearing any  complaints of pain from Willie I do some hard fast
thrusting making familiar, "Slapslapslapslap,"  sounds. I'm into it right off the
bat. It feels incredibly good on my boner  and now that Willie's resigned to
it he's making moaning sounds of sexual  pleasure accepting the unexpected.

I'm pretty sure my cock can't get any harder  or larger than it is as the
foreskin is stretched and clinging around the neck  just below the glans,
which is another word for the extremely  sensitive bulbous structure at the very
end of my penis also known as  the head. My coral ridge isn't as prominent
as Rob's but I have no trouble  stopping my withdrawals at Willie's
sphincter muscle and then pounding my  boner back up his ass, "Slap!".

I'm thrusting my hard  organ straight up Willie's ass about as hard as I
can do it generating  sizzling sensations all around my groin as my entire
cock vibrates with  pleasure, especially the head, making me shudder and grit
my teeth.  Willie's shuddering too and humping back into my thrusting as
sweat breaks  out on my forehead. I'm grunting at the effort of maintaining this
 hard-fast fucking. It's like I'm a runaway train  that I can't stop
because it feels too fuckin' good. It's much different  than being the 'bottom'
but there's a lot to be said for 'topping'  too.

Anal sex rocks any way  you do it. I can just imagine what's going on
inside Willie's rectum and now  he's lifting his hip further up off the mattress,
probably giving his boner some  room. What a thrilling feeling to have my
six-inches of hard cock sliding  fairly tightly up inside Willie's body, then
back, then up inside him  again over and over and over for three, four,
then five delicious minutes  until I'm in a frenzy to cum. Friction on my boner
is building toward  a climax that's getting hotter and hotter and has  all
of my attention now as way in the background of  my consciousness are sounds
of pleasure coming from Willie, "Ooh, oooh,  oooh, oooh, Dylan!" and then
his body stiffens as he goes, "Oooooh!" his  hips hump as he ejaculates. I
hear his string of cum  splatter faintly on the sheet. That puts me over the
top too. I'm  tight against his firm buttocks pumping a good load of cum up
his ass. One long  stream that blinds me temporarily with a lightning storm
of orgasmic  pleasure-sensations that takes my breath away. Then there  are
three follow-up streaks of cum flying out from my throbbing boner  as my
shoulders do their involuntary shuddering and a few firecrackers  go off in my
nuts. I've got my arms under and around Willie's waist hugging  him against
me as I go back to doing full six-inch thrusts moving only my hips.  My cock
sliding easily in Willie's cum-filled ass. I feel every inch of my  hard
cock sliding into his body and then sliding back out ten, then eleven  times.

Ooooh yeah!
Satisfied finally, I  stop and breathe deeply while blinking at the
fleeting sensations of climax  until I sigh as the fast-moving show called climax
has ended. Yep folks,  climax has left the building. Willie collapses on the
mattress trapping my arms  under him in some of his cum. I'm lying on his
back with my forehead against the  back of his head on the very short bristly
hairs there. We're both breathing  deeply for twenty-seconds and then he
turns his head to the side, exclaiming,  "Oh my God, that was so good, Dylan.

Really, really good!" I  nod my head rubbing against the back of his head and
then roll off him  pulling my cock out of his ass. It makes a wet sucking
sound as the head breaks  free. Lying on my back next to Willie, I'm stroking
my cock a few times,  mumbling, "Yeah, Willie, that was really good. Seemed
fast though."  He goes, "No, not real fast although I wish we could do it
all over again  exactly like that right now," and he chuckles adding, "That
made me feel good,  Dylan." Well that's a nice endorsement! I don't even need
to hint for  compliments.

We lie in bed sticky  with cum here and there while talking about sex.

Willie says his  last ex-sex-partner was exclusively a 'top' and in the
beginning of their relationship they'd do it three times a day. Near the  end
though it had petered-out to once or twice a week.  Willie  says, "We couldn't
fuck enough the first month and then maybe two times a day  and it kept
getting less and less until it seemed like we were obligated to  do it. It became
so routine after a few months it became like something hanging over our head
all  day, like an assignment you knew had to get done but you kept putting
it off  until we just said, 'What are we doing here?' and agreed it wasn't
gonna happen  between us. How does that work, Dylan? From fireworks to blah
in three  months or so." I go, "I don't know. Did you think you were in
love?" He goes,  "Not really and any little thoughts along those lines
fizzled-out pretty  early on."

Then, for a while it's  mostly a one-way dialogue from Willie until he
asks, "Are you  guys, you and him, still doing the open relationship deal?" I
go, "Ha!  I'm with you right now, aren't I?" He goes, "Yeah, but I'm special
to you. I  mean with random guys." I shrug and turn my head to look at him,
"Honestly  speaking, random sex isn't happening anywhere nearly as often as
it did when I was young. Not even close! One summer at Wildwood I  think I
had six different sex-buddies in a week. It's all about youth, ya know.  Now
I'm a young man according to some but I contend, and maybe it's  just me,
that I'm still more boy than man." He nods, "Yeah, you are, but so  are most
twenty-one-year-old guys. Some pompous asses pretend they're  thirty or
something but they're basically just assholes acting like they  think they're
supposed to. Act natural is what I say; be  yourself." I go, "Maybe they'd
disagree and say they're merely acting mature;  acting their age." He mutters,
"Assholes! But sure, we can't do some of the  silly shit we did at say
seventeen, but we're still young enough to get crazy  once in a while and college
gives us the freedom to be nuts when we want."  I go, "And at the same time
it gives us the chance to be responsible too. I mean  it's up to us to
memorize the stupid shit we need in order to get passing grades  and turn in
papers on time. College students are responsible  for everything really. No one
is prodding us to do this or that. We need to  prod ourselves."

We lie quietly for a  bit and then Willie starts trying to explain how he
got himself in that  situation a couple of summers ago when a super-dominant
sadist had him or a  leash, but I interrupt him, "If you don't mind, Willie,
I don't want to hear  that shit. Your way past  that and you have been over
it for two years." He nods his head, "It's  embarrassing though and I
wanted to explain myself to you." I mutter, "You  don't need to. You and I dealt
with it and it's been over and forgotten by  me." I steer the conversation
back to us giving ourselves credit for being  responsible guys while
rationalizing away inconsistencies in our philosophy  of life as twenty-one year
guys. Willie finally says, "Jesus, I didn't realize  we were so awesome!" I go,
"Yeah, we don't give ourselves enough credit.  We too often dwell on the
occasional dumb-ass things we do and ignore all  the good things we do."

Willie goes, "What was the last dumb-ass thing you did?"  Hmmm, there's that
gorilla at a frat party last month, or that guy last  summer who I got high with
on cocaine-laced pot and made a total fool of myself.  They're the two
outstanding ones that come to mind unless I count Chubby and I  fire-bombing a
pervert guy's van. I go, "Nothing comes to mind right off  the top of my
head, Willie."

Then to get off that  topic, I go, "Are we gonna have breakfast?" He says,
"Chef is off on Sundays but  I can get Martha to fix us something. Oh,
wait... what times is it?" I check my  watch, "Um, almost twelve o'clock, why?"

He goes, "They've already left.  They have Sunday afternoons off to visit
Paul's father in a nursing home."  I shrug, "We'll eat out then. My treat!"

Willie says, "First though we need a  shower, and it's not your treat. You're
my awesome date and I treat  for everything. I need to buy you a Christmas
present too." I go, "Ah, Willie,  you don't need to buy me anything." He says,
"Yes I do. We both need to because  we're extra special first boyfriends.

Can you remember that far back?" I'm  real pleased at how much better he
seems today as compared to yesterday, so I  go, "Of course I can remember back
then! So okay then, we'll get each other  Christmas presents." He mumbles,
"Yep, and now you need get the grease gun  and Boy Butter for the shower." I'm
like, "Are you serious? We just fucked an  hour ago." He says, "It was an
hour-and-a-half and I have quick turn-around  capabilities." Well alright
then!
We get out of bed and  Willie says, "Help me strip the bed, Dylan. Martha
doesn't need to deal with cum  stained sheets." We do that still naked from
last night. Willie's like me  in that we both enjoy being naked. I tell him
about my fantasy for a nudist  colony or beach for guys twenty-three and
under. Oh my God, he's all over  that idea! Then, grinning, he asks, "But
wouldn't you be self-conscious about  your small penis?" I laugh and go, "Hey! I'm
proud of my six-inch penis. Don't  make fun." He smacks my bare ass,
saying, "Get the lube and the tube." Oh  goodie, he's regaining some of his
natural bossiness for sex.

After retrieving the  grease gun and Boy Butter bottle I meet Willie in the
bathroom. We both take a  long piss and then wash our hands. Lastly we
share his toothbrush again.  After gargling with minty mouthwash Willie gives my
ass a couple of smacks,  saying, "Turn on the shower. Um, where'd you put
the grease gun?" I point to the  shelf holding the bath gel and soaps and
shampoos; the grease gun and lubricant  are behind everything. He gets the
'gun' and says, "Bend over and I'll  lube you up again." Bending over with my
hands on my knees I watch him fill the  grease gun with Boy Butter as I'm
telling him, "That's the best lubricant I've  ever felt in my ass." Willie
grins, asking, 'Where else would you feel it except  your ass?" I mutter, "You
know what I meant." He grins and plugs the end of the  so-called gun in past
my sphincter muscles and plunges a lot of Boy Butter  inside me. It feels
cold at first. Rotating the gun spreads the lube around and  helps when he
slides the fat tube part of the gun in tightly and then he  does more plunging.

More than he did yesterday as he works the gun  five inches up my ass. It
feels as slippery inside as I've ever felt  in my life. I stroke my dick a few
times and get two whacks, "SMACK!  SMACK!" on my right butt cheek. "No
touching, Dylan! That's my  job."

He pushes and pulls the  tube back and forth in my ass giving me half a
hard-on before pulling it out  entirely. I'm very much in the mood to feel
Willie's long cock up my ass  again, asking, "Are we doing it out here, Willie?"

He pats my back, "No, in the  shower but I've got you all lubed up so the
water won't be a problem now."  Somehow he's recognized vibes from me that
anything  resembling serious making-out isn't appropriate considering my more
evolved relationship with Rob, and also because Willie and I haven't  seen
each other for months. He was a great make-out in days gone  by though, but
we've settled for the couple of gay-buddy-kisses  earlier. Mostly I'm very
happy he's acting more like his whacky-self this  morning. "Get the water
going from all three-shower heads, Dylan, and I'll get us some  towels for
after we shower." As I'm  turning on the faucets I see him picking up two big
fluffy hotel-quality towels  and putting them within reach of the shower
stall.

"Go ahead and step in,  baby," so I do that and almost drown with all the
water pouring down on me.  Willie adjust the direction of the shower heads
and says, "You wash me first and  then I'll do you. Nice and slow, starting
with a shampoo." I'm like, "I know how  to wash a guy in the shower, Willie!
This isn't my first fucking rodeo ya know."  He pinches my cheek smirking and
saying, "Don't be so sensitive." I stop and  look at him, then say, "Have I
mentioned how good looking you are at this  advanced age we find ourselves
at now." He smiles, "Oh man, do I ever love being  with you." Rubbing my
fingers across his jaw, I murmur, "I felt your beard  on my face when we kissed
this morning." He says, "Yeah, and it looks cool  when I don't shave for a
couple of days." I mutter, "I'll bet." He's always been  a very sexy boy if
you ask me.

We're both completely  drenched in two seconds. Willie's hair is flat on
his head with his bangs  are longer than mine before Rob gave me the haircut.

He hugs me, "You're  always saying nice things to me, Dylan!" I go, "Well
it's true, you're very  good-looking." He smiles, saying, "And of course you
can say that freely beings  you're the best-looking guy anybody I know has
ever seen." I  smirk, "That goes without saying." He laughs and then asks,
"Should I shave?" I  go, "Not on my account, no." He shrugs, "Well then, start
shampooing my hair." I  ask, "Do you want that long hair in your eyes?" He
says, "No, not  really. Ralph said it's the latest style, so..." I say,
"Ralph's a  jerk-off. Get me a comb and scissors and I'll improve his latest
style."  Willie points behind me and there on a shelf above the one  with
various bath gels and shampoos. On that shelf there are  two razors, shaving
cream, combs, nail clippers, tweezers, scissors,  and other assorted things in a
ceramic bowl. Willie says, "Like a Boy Scout, I'm  prepared. It's my motto."

Lifting the comb and  scissors carefully out of the bowls not so I don't
knock other items out, I  ask, "Were you ever a Boy Scout?" He goes, "Fuck no,
the Scout Master might  be queer." I mutter, "Crude and harsh commentary,
Willie." He asks, "What are  you going to do with the scissors?" I say, "Cut
half the hair off the top of  your head." He goes, "Okay." He turns off one
of the shower heads so we can  stand at the end of the shower stall without
being under a waterfall. I run the  comb down through his bangs and the ends
are below his nose. Cutting  through the hair across his forehead with the
scissors just above his  eyebrows. As the hair falls away Willie mutters, "I
can see, I can see!"  Combing hair on top of his head up I hold the hair
between my first and  middle fingers while holding the comb with my thumb and
cut two-to-three-inches  of hair off above my fingers. Combing the bangs
down again  and they're almost the same length as when I cut across his
forehead  but tapered now instead of a blunt line of hair the way a  little girl's
bangs would be. Combing up batches of hair going back further  on his head I
repeat everything five times cutting off two-to-three-inches of  hair each
time. The last cut is for hair at the crown of his head. The  cut hair is
wet so it stays together in clumps on the floor of  the shower stall.

Willie grins, asking,  "How do I look?" I go, "Much better," and then put
the scissors and comb  carefully back where I got them. Willie runs his
fingers back through his wet  hair that's still long at about three-inches, "Yeah
Dylan, it feels better than  before." Then he kneels down and wipes the wet
clumps of hair in a pile and  picks it up to put outside the shower stall,
saying, "It might clog up the  shower's drain." I go, "Good thinking!" He
lets the shower door close on  its own and turns the  third shower head back
on. "Now, where were we?" I go, "I'm going to shampoo  your hair and then
wash your body until it shines." As I do that I feel the  slippery Boy Butter
between my butt cheeks as it warms inside my ass with  some drooling out. No
worries though, there's plenty left  inside.

Shampooing and washing  someone as attractive as Willie is a sexual
experience. As I run my fingers  through his thick light-brown hair I tell him,
"Don't let your hair stylist talk  you into this dumb haircut again, Willie.

You'd look better in almost any other  haircut." He says, "I have no intention
of getting this haircut again, but  I'm glad I tried it. Ya never know...

it could have looked hot on me." Then he  talks about some of the haircuts
he's had me get over the years and claims  everyone looked awesome.

Revisionist history again but I like haircut conversation so I don't interrupt.  I
also like listening to his voice. Like Robby's voice when he gets  into a long
dissertation about something, Willie's voice is also a  bit hypnotizing.

Willie truly believes everything he says is  true when he's saying it. Later
he'll just as easily contradict himself,  but that's part of what makes
Willie, Willie.

We both take a lot  of times bathing and shampooing with three shower heads
pouring water down on  us. There's a lady on the FM radio station I
sometimes listen to who  gives 'green tips' for a healthy planet. She would
throw-up at  the amount of water we're using during this shower. One of her green
tip is to flush the toilet  only once a day and another is to turn off the
shower once you're wet, then  wash yourself before turning it back on for a
one-minute rinse. And other  stuff like unplug all electric appliances until
you need to use it. How  convenient is that? Another 'green' tip is, one day
a week go without using  any electricity or water. Or how about her idea for
saving the planet's  trees by using only one square of toilet paper while
wiping yourself after a  dump? Un huh, that's a sensible idea. In other
words, live like you're  in a third world country. Needless to say, I don't
subscribe to all her  'green' tips.

Squeaky clean again I'm  on my knees sucking Willie's squeaky clean penis.

When it's very hard and almost  sticking straight out, I swallow a glob of
precum and stand up. Willie turns me  around and the head of his cock is
immediately at my asshole.  He humps it  in past my sphincter and gets his arms
around me, mumbling, "I noticed your  hickey last night. Does he always suck
a hickey on your neck?" I shake my head,  "Nope, just the past week or
so... for old time sake." Pushing the head of his  cock three inches up my ass
gets my back arching a little as I grunt,  "Umm!" Willie asks, "Do you
remember the hickeys I used to give you?" Nodding my  head, "Yep, big sore ones
and you'd suck on it a couple times a day to keep it  shiny and stinging." He
chuckles, "Hey! I wasn't that bad, Dylan. I wanted  everyone who saw you and
me together to know you're mine." I go, "Excuse me while  I hurl," and he
laughs, then humps another three inches of hard cock up my  ass and I go,
"Oooh, Willie!" like it surprised me. Another hump of his  hips and he has me
fully impaled on his hard eight-inch rod. Feels real good too. I squirm a
little in his arms, my back against his chest. "Ummm, feels good,  Willie."

He  tightens his hold around me with both arms, then asks, "Remember when I
 insisted you sleep with my cock up your ass and you were walking bowlegged
 for two days?" I go, "Yeah, in Key West. Why were you so mean?" He says,
"I was  insecure and immature at the time, not mean, but I formally apologize
 profusely for doing that. I think God punished me by giving me that
horrendous  food poisoning. Remember?" I'm like, "Yep, it was terrible. I called
the  hotel's doctor more than once for you." He goes, "See, I treat you
poorly and  you help me. No wonder I love you so much."  I've got nothing to say
to that. When we get together Willie often mentions some of our
misadventures but never the one about him almost going over the  balcony. I don't
mention it either. Years from now it'll be like: did that  really happen?
He stops talking and  begins fucking with his long cock sliding tightly but
smoothly in the Boy  Butter. Sensations, as always, ramp-up and accumulate
until I'm moaning and  writhing in his arms. The wet, "Slap slap slap,"

sounds bounce  prominently off the tile walls of the shower stall. His hard
eight-inches  sliding steadily over my prostate, both when it's going in and
coming out creates a blizzard of sexually stimulating sensations and has me
making a sizzling sound sucking air in through closed teeth. Oh, man it feels
 constantly fantastic. I like the way he holds my body tightly and moves
his hips  with an upward motion driving his eight-inches of bone up my ass
hard.

The  slapping sounds of his body smacking against my ass gets louder and
quicker the more aroused Willie gets. Louder and faster until it's a rapid
wild  race to the finish line and we're both grunting and almost wrestling as
my  climax storms up on me and my hips jerk forward for an orgasmic
explosion with a  shockingly small amount of cum pumping out of my cock, especially
considering  the enormous amount of sensations accompanying the orgasm. I'm
shuddering and  shaking as if a pint of cum poured out. I don't even feel
Willie's  climax hit inside me but he's gasping and moaning like it was a
gigantic  orgasm. Sucking in air, he backs-up pulling his cock from my ass
causing my  shoulders to do another little shudder. Willie bends over moaning,
"Holy shit! That was awesome. Too fast, but awesome."

Our reaction to our  climaxes from tiny amounts of spunk strikes me as so
silly I start  laughing, and he's like, "What?" I tell him we both shot-out
about a  thimble-full of spunk and we're acting like it was the climax of our
lives. He  goes, "I don't care. I thought my dick flew off my body and up
your ass. My  orgasm was that amazingly awesome." It takes a minute or so
before we're  back to functioning normally. Turing off the three waterfalls we
step  out and grab the towels he laid out for us earlier. He goes, "Damn I
loved us  bathing each other and then having sex in the shower. That was fun,
wasn't it,  Dylan?" I nod, "Oh yeah! I always like showering with a
friend."

He's all grins and  smiles as we dry ourselves. Quite a contrast to his
mood when he walked in  the door of my condo less than twenty-hours ago. The
two of us spend a  minute cleaning up his cut hair from the floor and then he
combs his hair back  exclaiming, "Holy shit! This is so much better, Dylan.

You're a genius  at cutting hair." I mutter, "Yes, I know." He chuckles and
then in the  bedroom, he mutters, "Now we need to choose clothes for you to
wear.  Luckily I have some new things I've never worn, and oh yeah, look."

He  opens his closet, "There's your suit and the other things from our last
trip." I see a number of things in dry-cleaning plastic bags. He says, "I
tried  on your suit to wear to Grandfather's funeral but it didn't fit. The
pants are  too short. I put it back the way it came from the cleaners." I say,
"Thank you,  Willie," although, in truth, I don't really want that
expensive group of  clothes. Willie goes, "I'll make sure you don't forget your
stuff this time.  Count on me."

Then he  insists I wear brand new  boxer shorts and brand new cargo khakis
and a really nice silky  miracle-fabric t-shirt under a thin Polo flannel
shirt. You almost can't call it  flannel is so soft and the material is so
much thinner than normal  flannel. He has half a dozen of the same type shirts.

Without recently purchased  socks so I'm forced to wear a clean pair he
says he wore once. I get  to wear my own sneakers and winter coat though.

Willie dresses almost  identically to me but in different colors.  We're on our
way out for  brunch somewhere. I'm willing to bet it's not to the obvious
place, which  is the Hilton brunch. Willie won't go there because it's too
close to  my condo and he wants to kidnap me for the day. I'm a willing victim
because I'm  enjoying being with him very much.

We end-up driving into  Boston which is a mere fifteen minutes down the
Mass Pike from Willie's house in  Weston. He settles on the Bristol Restaurant
and Bar at the Four Seasons  Hotel. It's $30 to valet park the car. Then a
tip when retrieving the car,  I assume. Walking inside, Willie says, "This is
a very cordial but elegant  restaurant affording great views of the Public
Garden." And it's all true. I was  worried we'd be under-dressed but that's
not the case. There are some  well-dressed older people here but mostly it's
very casual dress except for the  wait staff. The buffet is $65 per person
with all drinks extra. Our spiffy  waiter brings us glasses of water and we
both order a Bloody Mary. The  spiffy nice-looking waiter doesn't even card
us. It's almost one o'clock,  so too late for breakfast.

When our drinks arrive  Willie tells the waiter we're doing the buffet, and
he goes, "Very well, Sir,"  and scribbles something on a small pad and then
does a little head bow, saying,  "I'll check in on you gentlemen
periodically to see if you need  anything. Enjoy your meal." I don't think I could
ever pull off the classy way  that guy does everything. He's cool although I'm
guessing he's over twenty-three  so he wouldn't be allowed on my fantasy
nude beach. Hmmm, I might make an  exception just to see if he could pull off
being classy when  naked.

The buffet is amazing  but not quite up to par with the one John Smith and
I were at in Worcester.  As we eat we discuss buying Christmas presents for
each other. I'm like,  "If we're going to do that we need to set a limit on
how much we spend. How  about fifty-dollars maximum?" He thinks I'm being
funny and laughs out loud,  then says, "You're too much, Dylan. Ya can't buy
anything for fifty-dollars at  Copley Place." That's an upscale Mall in the
Back Bay. I go, "Yes you can. They  have stores like GAP, J. Crew, and Neiman
Marcus. No wait, forget Neiman Marcus,  otherwise known as Needless
Markup." Willie goes, "Yeah? I never noticed those  stores, except NM of course. I
like the top-of-the-line stores and  shops like, Burberry, Louis Vuitton,
Dior, Chanel , and stores like that."  I go, "Oh well, balls to that. Let's
settle on Neiman Marcus as a  compromise and make the limit one-hundred
dollars." Willie goes, "You're  serious, aren't you?" I shrug, "Well, yeah." He
goes, "No, you shop where you  want and I'll shop where I want and spend
reasonably, but without some arbitrary  limit. We'll separate after agreeing on a
place and time to meet." I'm  like, "Promise me you won't get crazy and
embarrass me by buying something that  cost way more than what I get you." He
says, "You have my promise that  I'll try to tone it down to the bare-bone
minimum." We're both  laughing because Willie has never toned anything down in
his  life.

After topping off our  lunch with two awesome desserts we agree to meet in
one-hour at Bar 10 which is  a bar that's right here in Copley Place. Willie
goes, "Don't follow me or  watch which shops I go in, okay?" I'm like,
"Well it's no secret that I'm  shopping for your present in the Gap." Willie
goes, "What do they sell in  there?" I go, "Sweaters and jeans." He shrugs,
"Omigod, but I'm sure you'll  have good taste. See you in one-hour. Um, I'm
having trouble not kissing you on  the mouth right here and right now." I go,
"Keep trying to fight the urge and  thank you for that awesome lunch." He
smiles and turns to saunter off down the  wide aisle along with a million other
people. It always surprises me how many  people there are who can afford
stores in this Mall.

I'm not going to the  GAP. Willie would wipe his ass with anything from
there. I'll go to Neiman  Marcus so whatever I buy will at least be in their
fancy box. Wandering  around the store I'm trying to think what to get someone
who has everything?  What I need to find is like a three hundred dollar
something that's  on sale for like seventy-percent off. Surprisingly there are
some sales  racks, but not many. In Macy's I could find a deal like I got
for Chubby and  Rob. Macy's probably wouldn't be allowed in this mall. After a
 half-hour, it hits me to look at men's jewelry. There are long glass cases
 full of men's jewelry and most of the items start at $350. Men's cuff
links for  $495.00! Get the fuck outta here with that! Who wears French cuffs
anyway? I  mean other than Willie. Oh boy, there's the sale  area.

I'm looking through the  glass counter top to items that are on sale for
$295.00, regular price $429.00.  This isn't gonna work but buying him a
sweater is dumb too because it  would get lost among his six flannel shirts. Just
about to give up on the  jewelry idea I spot something on sale that's been
marked down three-times  to $129.99. More than I want to spend but I am
making $800.00 a week so I can  manage $129.99. It's very cool-looking and when I
hear, "Can I show you  something, young man?" It startles me because I was
deep in thought. Looking up  I see a sharp-looking woman dressed like she's
going out to a ball.  She's about thirty-years-old. I say, "Why yes. That
leather bracelet. Could  I see that?" She says, "Why of course. It's a
Miansai." I go, "You don't say."  She brings it up on top of the glass counter,
saying, "This is a beautiful  men's sterling silver and black leather casing
bracelet. Miansai does very  classic men's jewelry. We sold twenty-five of
these for $429. He has a newer  version out now though so this last one has
been marked-down three-times."  I mumble, "Oh really? I  hadn't noticed."

Naturally I've never  heard of this Miansai character but this is a cooler
leather bracelet than the  one Willie gave me a year or so ago. I look at my
wrist and compare my bracelet  to this one. I'd rather have the Miansai!
Trying for a bored blasé  approach, I mumble, "I suppose I'll take it." She
says, "Smart buy," and  reaches to get this very sharp looking case that she
fits the bracelet in.  "Would you like it gift wrapped?" Hmmm, I wonder how
much that cost? I go, "Um,  yes please." What the fuck, so it's another five
dollars, or whatever. She takes  my debit card and uses it like a credit
card. I sign the slip she puts in front  of me and then she takes quite a bit
longer to wrap the present than I  expected. She finally brings it back and
it looks gorgeous. Plus, there's  no extra charge for wrapping. I probably
thanked too exuberantly and thus  ruining my bored blasé attitude, but
whaddaya gonna do?
I wait outside Bar 10  at the end of the Mall for twenty minutes before I
see Willie strolling down the  aisle carrying a shopping bag. He's got a big
smile on his face, saying, "It was  fun shopping for you, and I got a couple
of things for myself too. Love this  fucking mall. Have you been waiting
long?" I shrug, "Are we gonna have a drink  in this bar?" He goes, "Nah, let's
go to my place and exchange gifts." He's  glances at the little bag his
gift is in. I say, "It's a small  package but something nice is in it." He
says, "I hope you didn't go over  the limit we agreed on." We chuckle at that
and then as we're walking  towards the elevator to go down to the parking
garage, I tell him, "No I stayed  within my first suggested limit. Your gift was
on sale for $29.95," and Willie  chuckles, muttering, "No way. Nothing cost
$29.95."

The traffic sucks  getting to the Mass Pike but once we're on it it's a
quick ride to Willie's  mansion. Inside he gets us a couple of beers and we go
to the library. Willie  says, "We can grab a smoke in here," and he flicks
the switch on the inside wall  of bookcases turning-on the quiet exhaust fan.

He gets a big ashtray and we  sit on the floor smoking and drinking our
Dutch Amstel beer. Willie says,  "Open the present I got for you first," and he
takes a large box out of the  shopping bag leaving four other boxes in the
bag. I go, "Those other boxes  better not be presents for me." He goes,
"They're not." I look at my box. It's  from Burberry and not wrapped but there's
a really nice red ribbon  tying the box. I go, "Very festive," and Willie
says, "Merry Christmas, Dylan."  I mumble, "Thank you, and the same to you."

Taking the ribbon off I  open the box and see a beautiful sweater on top of
a pair of jeans." Willie  says, "You said you were shopping at the GAP
where they sold sweaters and jeans  so that's what I got you." I go, "From
Burberry?" He shrugs, "It was the first  store I came to that might sell sweaters
and jeans." I hold up the sweater. It's  light and very soft. Reading the
label, I go, "Richmond check-patch  cashmere-blend long-sleeve sweater." It's
black and looks very cool. I squint my  eyes at him, asking, "How much did
this cost?" He goes, "Do you like it?" I nod,  "Yeah, of course. It's
awesome!" He goes, "Then what difference does it make how  much it cost?" I say,
"A lot because of what your present cost."  Then I  hold up Burberry brand
black slim-fit straight-leg jeans. The material and the  cut of the jeans,
with little extra stitching, screams 'I'm fuckin'  expensive!' I go, "Oh man, I
know these were not $39.95 like Levi  jeans." He shrugs again, and I say,
"I love them! They're the coolest jeans I  own and with the cool sweater
too... I'll be hot." He goes, "You already are  hot. Aren't you proud of me for
buying reasonable gifts?" I say, "I'm partially  proud of you, but knowing
Burberry prices I'm leery."

I can't put my finger  on it or describe why exactly but there's just a
different something  between very expensive sweaters and jeans and the ones I'd
buy in  Macy's. Willie goes, "So what's my present?" I give it to him and
when he gets  the wrapping paper off he goes crazy about how perfect the
bracelet is. He says,  "I know this designer, Miansai." I ask, "Is he Oriental?"

He chuckles, "No, he's  a guy named Michael Saiger who started making
simple jewelry as a senior at the  University of Miami while studying marketing.

He couldn't make the stuff  fast enough. That's a few years ago and now he
sells his stuff in many outlets, plus has  his own store. His stuff sells for
between one-hundred and  fourteen-thousand-dollars." I go, "No shit?" and
Willie looks closely at  the bracelet, saying, "I'd estimate this as between
three-and-four-hundred  dollars." I go, "You're close, but I bought it at a
marked-down price." He says,  "It's awesome," and he puts it on, adding, "I
really like it. Ain't it cool?" I  nod, "Yeah," and hold my wrist up showing
him my leather bracelet. Willie goes,  "Hey, I gave you that." I nod and he
goes, "This one is miles ahead of that one.  I'm gonna get you one like
this." I say. "Next Christmas." So the bracelet is a  hit. I can tell when
Willie's faking and this time he's  sincere.

I know he really likes  it. I know I like the clothes he bought me too.

They're very cool and I  know they cost more than even I think they did. It's
five o'clock so I say, "I  really should be getting home, Willie. This has
been a wonderful date!  You're awesome," and I put my arms around his neck and
kiss him quickly on the  lips, saying, "We need to see each other more than
just twice a year." He goes,  "Absolutely but why do you need to get home?"

I explain I only get to spend time  with my Mom on Sundays and he
reluctantly understands, which is another  surprise. Willie's getting nicer. After
our beer, we get our coats on and head  for the garage. I wish I could thank
and say goodbye to Martha and  Paul but they're not back yet.

During the drive to my  place Willie says, "In all sincerity, Dylan, thank
you for sharing the last day  and a half with me. It was absolutely the best
medicine for me. I was down and  very sad and while I'm still sad about
losing Grandfather I'll have the sweet  memory of you consoling me as only you
can. No one else in the world can make me  think positively like you can,
and I love you for it. Basically, I'm saying a  heartfelt thank you." I'm
like, "I don't know what the right thing to say is,  Willie, but I liked being
with you and if it was some comfort to you, I'm  super happy about that. And
I was dead serious about us getting together  more often." At my condo, we
hug in the car and he promises to keep in touch. It  was an anticlimactic
farewell actually, but just right I  think.

I wave goodbye as he  drives off and then I feel like kicking myself for
saying, 'I'm dead  serious'. I mean considering the circumstances I maybe
could have chosen  another word for 'dead'. Only when I'm inside my condo do I
realize  I never got the clothes Willie bought for me the last time we were
together. Oh  well, I'd feel like a fraud wearing a two or
three-thousand-dollar suit anyway.  Plus, the temptation to hock it would
be significant... ha ha. No, I'd never do  that to Willie. Inside, I go,
"Hello! Anybody home?"

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

donnymumford@outlook.com

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

Donny  Mumford

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

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