Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2017 14:19:00 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE  Chapter  48

DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter  48

by  Donny Mumford


Under one arm I'm  carrying the clothes I wore to Willie's last night while
the  sweater and jeans Willie gave me as Christmas presents are over  my
other arm as I walk into the code ??, asking, "Anybody home?" Mom comes  out
of her bedroom carrying a basket of soiled clothes. She shows me a  big smile
and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I mumble, "Hi,  Mom, whassup?" She goes,
"Let me help you with those dirty clothes, Honey," and  she takes the
clothes from under my arm and adds them to her basket. On her  way downstairs to
the washer machine she says over her shoulder, "I'll  be right back and I
wanna hear how your friend is doing." Nodding I'm like,  "Sure thing, Mom." I
go to my bedroom to drop the sweater and jeans on  my bed and then use the
bathroom. Mom's waiting for me in the kitchen,  asking, "So, how's Willie
holding up?" While getting a Coke from the  refrigerator I tell Mom about my
last thirty-some hours, omitting  obvious parts of it. We sit at the kitchen
table and for the next  forty-five minutes she tells me more than I need to
know about what her, Tris,  and the twin fiancés have been up to. I have to
laugh with  her at some of her observations and points of view, which are
often  quite different than my own.

Mom tells me we're all  to be at Rider's condo by seven-thirty tonight for
a Sunday dinner  that the guys are preparing. By 'all' she means her and
Tris obviously,  plus Chubby, me, and Rob. I explain that Rob's away on
business  which impresses Mom, and then I'm like, "You said Rider's condo. Doesn't
Bud  live there too?" I've always thought the twins shared a condo but Mom
tells  me they each have their own. The condos are in a relatively new
complex over-looking, for Rider's condo, the tenth fairway of the Wellesley
Country Club. Huh, this will be the first- time Chub and I have ever been to
their  place.

Mom's a mere three  minutes into a detailed description of the condos when
she gets a  cellphone call. I take this opportunity to escape to my bedroom
smiling at  her energetic greeting for Tris. It's like she hasn't seen her
for  years. Sitting on my bed I examine the sweater and jeans a little
closer. Hmmm, Burberry slim-fit jeans, huh? I can't resist going online to
Google 'Burberry'. Typing in 'slim-fit jeans' a lot of choices  appear on the
screen including the exact duplicate of the ones Willie gave  me. All the jeans
are $215 each. For jeans! It'll be interesting to see  what the Richmond
check-patch sweater cost? And I have no idea what  'check-patch' means.

Clicking on 'sweaters' I need to narrow  down the search so I include
'cashmere-blend, long-sleeve' and  my sweater, in a different color, appears on the
screen. It's $350, which  is ridiculous of course but there it is. Actually, I
guess it's about what  I'd expect from Burberry. Well the present I bought
Willie is actually a $429  bracelet. Sure I got it for $129, but still we're
almost even. Ha ha, not  really, dummy! Since when is $565 equal to $429,
never mind $129? I had best  intentions though. Then I think about the leather
bracelet I bought for one  of Rob's Christmas presents and realize what a
bargain Willie's  was. Damn, I love this fucking sweater though! The jeans
too. Mom  calls in to me, "Tris says Jeffrey we'll drive us at seven o'clock."

I call  out, "I'll be ready," and even though I don't really need to, I take
another  shower. Hmmm, I think I know what I'm wearing tonight too.

Rider's condo is a very  nice two-story condo that's much larger than ours.

The guys have an awesome  Christmas tree with a fire going in the gas
fireplace. There's a patio off  the back as well as a small back yard. I'm told
Bud's condo is  like Rider's except it overlooks the  par-three twelfth hole.

When Chub and I finish complimenting  Rider on his condo there's some
compliments for my new sweater and then Bud  and I are getting drinks for
everyone in the kitchen. Opening a bottle of wine  for the Moms, he goes, "You've
got yourself a generous friend there, Dylan.  That Burberry sweater probably
cost three-hundred-dollars." I go, "Get out! No  way!" He shrugs smiling and
saying, "Yes, way!"

The best thing about  this Sunday night dinner is it feels like a real
family affair.  Rider and Bud are really good guys and I'm totally comfortable
with both of  them. They're almost as many years younger than the Moms as
they are older  than Chub and me. After a good roast-beef dinner prepared
mostly by  Rider, Chub and I put our coats on and share a smoke on the patio in
the cold. Chub wants to know about Willie and I tell him putting Willie in
a sympathetic light emphasizing how upset he was about his  grandfather's
passing. Chub goes, "Huh, I never figured him for caring enough to  cry over
anyone." I go, "That's because you don't really know him,  Chub." Then we
discuss how strange it will be to have step-dads who are  almost like guys we
could be friends with. They seem younger and they  definitely look younger
than thirty. The Moms are both thirty-eight, soon to be  thirty-nine, and they
both look younger than their age too. It's like  everyone gets to have a
certain 'look' somewhere in their twenties, some  looking younger than their
age and some older-looking than they  are, and then they pretty much look the
same for the next like  twenty years or so.

Chub and I concluded  long ago that the twins are okay guys and it's
easy-going and relaxing for  Chub and I knowing our Moms are in good hands, so to
speak. There's nothing  phony or over-the-top with the twins either and they
don't feel they  need to suck-up to Chub and me as our future Step-Dads.

Our relationship it's very casual plus  they're often kinda funny and it's
almost always fun being with the Moms  and their guys.

It's not a late night  and I only have two beers at Rider's so Monday
morning I'm feeling good.  Driving to work in Rob's pickup I'm eager to see him.

First though I need  to report to Dottie to get today's work assignment. She
gets me set-up in a  conference room with a laptop. I'm following a chart
editing information  from a computer program that's more than ten-years old.

It's boring and  repetitive work but better than dealing with old dusty
files. Both Rob and  Dottie openly admit that all my assignments are ones that
no one  else wants to do. At least they're honest about it. Rob hasn't
shown-up by lunch time so I take both my morning coffee break and  my lunch hour
alone in the conference room. Dottie has her girlfriends  at work who she
has coffee breaks and lunches with, but that isn't  something I want any part
of.

As soon as he  arrives Rob brings me into his office and we have a sweet
hugging-kissing  reunion for two-minutes. Rob then needs to right away attend
another  meeting but we plan on spending the night together at one of our
houses.  Which one it will be has yet to be determined. As it turns  out Rob
and I have dinner with Chubby and then the three of us watch  Monday Night
Football on TV. Rob stays the night at my place and we have quite a  sexy time
of it in bed. We don't get to sleep until almost two o'clock so we're  both
dragging a little bit Tuesday morning. The rest of the week flies by  and
then the next day is Christmas Eve. Rob wants us to be together  celebrating
Christmas with both families. That's actually a possibility  because
coincidentally the Dickers and my family have convenient holiday  schedules. I
mean, convenient from Rob's and my point of view. Christmas  Eve is when the
Dickers open their Christmas presents while my family  has always done that
traditionally on Christmas morning. So I spent Christmas  Eve with Rob's
family, which entails a midnight church service, and then  I sleep over. Early
Christmas morning the two of us drive to  Chubby's condo. That's where we've
decorated the tree and  where we're exchanging gifts this year. We alternate
his place and  mine year to year. Rider and Bud bring Dunkin' Donuts coffees
for everyone,  plus a dozen donuts.

One of Chubby's  present for me is an identical iPad tablet to the one I
got for him. Unknowingly  we've bought identical gifts for each other six or
seven times over the many  Christmases we've had together. It used to freak
us out but now we just shake  our heads and shrug. Whaddaya gonna do when you
share a brain like that? Tris  gives us identical presents too. We each get
a framed five-inch by seven-inch  photograph of our Dad with Chub and I
photoshopped standing on either side  of him. In the photo, we're all
seventeen-years-old. The picture was originally  Dad and Tris the day they were
married but she had it photoshopped cutting  her out and putting us boys in. Dad,
Chubby, and I all have the same grin on our  faces. Chub and I try to be
cool about it, amazed at the expert  photoshopping. Then later we're out on
the balcony, just the two of us  having a smoke, and we both shed a couple of
tears staring at the  photo. It's the coolest picture either of us will ever
see in our  lives.

The other convenient  holiday happenstance is that the Dickers have
Christmas dinner at one  o'clock in the afternoon. My family has always had
Christmas dinner around  eight o'clock Christmas night. So Rob and I attend both
Christmas dinners  making a pact beforehand that we won't critique the dinners
 as to which one is better. The afternoon dinner at the Dickers  includes
Rob's Grandparents, an uncle and aunt, plus two girl cousins who Rob  says
used to flirt with him but don't anymore. They've probably finally  gotten the
message he's gay. They don't flirt with me  either.

The dinner is buffet  style as there are too many people to sit around a
table. Rob and I take our  plates downstairs putting them on the ping-pong
table instead of our laps like  some are forced to do upstairs. We smirk at
each other feeling clever that we  snuck away from the loud and slightly drunk
group upstairs. Then  we hear someone unsteadily coming down the steps. We
make a 'face' at each other  and then turn seeing it's his Uncle Ted who is
especially loud  and more than slightly intoxicated. As we eat he tells us a
number of  times how lucky Rob and I are to be living in today's accepting
society. Meaning because  we're gay obviously, although he doesn't actually
say the word. He's a  touchy-feely guy too and overly complimentary about how
good looking Rob and I  are. He's standing behind Rob with a hand on each
of Rob's shoulders sort of  shaking him while telling me what a great athlete
I have in Rob as my, um,  'friend'. I tell him I'm well aware of that. It's
possible Uncle Ted has  some latent homosexual leanings that he's been
suppressing all his life. I'll  bet he was disappointed both times his wife gave
birth. Or maybe I'm way off  base with that, and I hope for Uncle Ted's sa
ke I am.

With the exception  of a few awkward moments at Rob's house both dinners
turned out better than  I hoped for. Then our second Christmas dinner is at
Bud's condo  because it's much larger than either of our condos, plus the
twins' parents  are spending Christmas with their sons. Also the twins' sister,
her husband and  their two-and-a-half-year-old boy, William, who appears to
misunderstand the  meaning of the word 'no'. Except for the brat, William,
it's an awesome  Christmas dinner. The twins rented an extra table and chairs
so everyone has a  seat for dinner. Unfortunately Rob, Chubby, and I are
stuck at the table with  the sister and her husband, who is a dentist, and
William of course. He's a  food-thrower. William is, not the dentist. The
toddler throws a cranberry at  Chubby and the lad's mother says, "No, William,"

and William says, "No!"  and throws some peas grinning at us boys. He bangs a
turkey wing on his plate  splashing gravy on the tablecloth and the mother
again says, "No!" as the  dentist pretends he's someplace else. William
laughs saying,  "NO! NO!" Chub, with a dead-pan delivery, says, "Don't despair.

If  they could teach Helen Keller table manners, ya know... there's hope."

The  dentist chuckles but Mommy said, "It's not funny. I give William
age-appropriate  instructions," and she stops talking when a pea hits her nose.

Again with the,  "No, William!" and he says, "NO!" and laughs."

The food is good  though. We survive the meal and, everything considered,
this was my  best Christmas ever. We all lay around recovering the next day
and  then the day after that Rob and I fly out of Logan for a  three-night
vacation in Orlando, Florida. Each day we  go to a different amusement park;
Disney World the first day and one of the  two Universal Theme parks the next
two days. In the early evenings we swim in  the hotel's huge swimming pool.

At night, we make love and it's the sexiest  and most fun three-days I've
never had. We invited Chubby but he saw our  trip for what it was, a lovers'
getaway, and gracefully  bowed-out.

This Christmas break  was very expensive for me but my two weeks working
for Rob covered  two-thirds of the money I spent. I would have spent the other
third from my  savings during any normal Christmas break, so I'm good
money-wise. Then it's back to Merrimack with Chub driving us in the  Jeep the
first Tuesday of the new year, a day before classes begin. We'll  use today to
get our shit together for what's coming. We've all pre-registered  online
for this semester's classes and have our text books  and schedules in hand.

Everything that used to be a pain-in-the-ass about  beginning a new semester
for freshman and sophomore years seems simple now.  Nothing like experience
to ease things along. Rob drives back to college in the  pickup and arrives
forty-minutes after Chubby drops me off at the  apartment.

The drudgery  of a freezing-cold January and February is further
complicated by  too many snow storms. Used to this kind of shitty weather we  all
stoically endure it but that doesn't mean we don't bitch about it from  time to
time. During these first two months of the new year I  only manage to meet
John Smith at the bar for lunch and a smoke once  a week, at most, plus Pony
and I manage to get it on only weekly as well.  That's the total extent of
my side-sex with buddies. Nothing else materializes  but I'm not complaining
because Rob and I have been fucking like  rabbits. What the hell, there
isn't much else to do when you're snowed-in. Sex  with Rob is always awesome and
seems new somehow no matter how  frequently we do it. We talked about
learning to ski as there's a ski lift  a half hour drive from here but never do
get around to doing  it.

A routine develops  where Chubby and John Beverly have dinner at the
apartment with us usually two  or three nights a week and then we watch TV or play
cards. This semester we  have mostly elective courses getting the heavier
ones over with last semester  and consequently the academic workload isn't
all that horrible. Rob and I  do homework right after classes like we did last
semester. I'm so used to  that by now and I hardly every bitch about it
more than once a day.  Rob spends a couple of hours at the baseball complex two
or three days a week  which is when I sometimes get to spend a little time
with my side-sex  buddy, Pony. His schedule and mine conflict though
preventing us from  taking full advantage of Rob's time hitting baseballs or
whatever he does at the  baseball complex. In the back of my mine is the fact
Danny Monday is at the  baseball facility too.

As planned Rob  continues being my barber doing two haircuts for me after
that first  memorable one that Sunday before my first day of work  during
Christmas break. I can't say there's been any noticeable  improvement in his
barbering skills but that's not to say the haircuts  suck. They mostly
turn-out okay although they end-up being too  short by the time Rob's corrects all
his 'Oops'. Rob still gets his  haircuts from Golden hoping the younger
teammates will see him as just one  of the guys even though he is a junior as
well as  a co-captain. John Beverly caved-in and asked me for a haircut when
Chubby was getting one, so that's cool. It's funny that the more time I
spend  with John Beverly the less I like him. I've tried analyzing my  feelings
because he isn't doing anything especially annoying. I've come to  wonder if
my negative feelings for him are because Chubby likes John so  much. Could
that fact be distorting my opinion of John? Am I jealous  of my brother's
friend? Jesus, I hope that's not it! Daryl asks for  haircuts too often
because he likes hanging-out at the apartment  afterwards. John Smith hasn't
wanted another haircut yet so I guess he's  maintaining his schedule of a haircut
every three or four months.  Hell, I'd give him a haircut for free but
currently his hair is getting  to look like it did when I first met him.

So anyway, it's been  two months of dealing with either freezing snowy
weather or sloppy  slushy snow. After a snow storm, everything is pristine but
it soon turns  dirty and ugly as it melts and refreezes into mounds that need
to be navigated  around. In short, January and February are two months I
could do without  but then it's March first and the start of preseason
baseball practice  at Merrimack. Practices are indoors necessitated by the weather
in the  Northeastern part of America. Sometime during the middle of March
the  preseason games turn into games that count in the standings. All early
games in the conference are scheduled for Southern universities because of
the  more temperate climate there. Then almost all Merrimack's games through
April  and the first week of May will be played here.

None of this would  matter to me except baseball season changes Rob's and
my routine drastically. I  never did get a job associated with the baseball
team  so consequently Rob and I will be apart during practice almost every
day for three hours, and then there's his overnight trips to play baseball
out  of state. It's not that this is something new for us. It's was the  same
freshman and sophomore years although in past years I had Ryan to help
occupy my time. Also, the first two years Chubby was in the apartment with Rob
and me. So this year is different in a number of ways. The obvious solution
to this extra time on my hands would be to spend more time with John Smith
and Daryl except John Smith works full time and Daryl's class schedule is
different than mine. When he's free I have class and vice versa. So, I'll
see  what develops.

On the first day  of Rob's mandatory baseball practice we're walking out of
 our last class on a raw early March day and he passes me his  backpack,
"Well, this is the start of it, Dylan. I'm excited that it's  baseball season
at last." I go, "Rob, you've been going to the baseball  workout facility
for weeks now." I'm a little pouty that much of his free  time will be taken
by baseball activities the next ten weeks. He  goes, "Hell, I only spent an
hour or so a couple of days a week  hitting balls, babe. That's nothing. Now
it really starts." I go, "Yeah, I know.  What's so great about it though?"

He holds his arms out, "Do you mean in  addition to me loving the game of
baseball my entire life?  Jesus, it's the camaraderie of teammates and the
competition to  win a starting spot on the team; then playing games that count.

It's exhilarating, Dylan!" I nod, "Yeah, for you." He pats my back, "Be
happy for me." I go, "I am, Rob, but I'll miss our time together after class."

 He says, "Yeah, so will I but you can always come to watch practice like
you did during fall practice." Oh man, that reminds me of Beth and Frankie.

Ewww! I go, "I'll be there some days, Rob. Um, can I have the  keys to the
pickup?" He  goes, "Oh yeah, of course," and hands me the keys. I go, "Text
me when practice  is over and I'll pick you up. Good luck!" He waves as he
jogs off with a  smile on his face. I come in second with Rob during baseball
 season.

It's not like  I didn't know this was coming but in past years I wasn't
dealing  with as deep a connection with Rob as I have this year. We've never
been as tight as we are right now and I don't just mean as lovers; I  mean as
really close friends too. Having the apartment to ourselves has  something
to do with it but I think it's me finally appreciating all of Rob's
attributes. Oh well, like he said, I'm happy for him. Taking a deep resigned
breath, I'm walking away with a backpack over each shoulder realizing I've  made
no plans for the rest of the day and it's only ten-after-one. Yeah,  but on
the other hand there's a certain amount of freedom associated with  Rob's
baseball activities. Now, if I could think of how to make the best of  it.

It's weird too that during baseball season we aren't doing  class assignments
until after dinner instead of right after last class. Yeah  but, after
getting in the habit of doing assignments right after  class I have this stupid
feeling that maybe I should do some of  that that now. Hmmm, I'm pretty sure I
can overcome that urge without  much effort... heh heh.

When I walk around the  Quad heading for the parking lot I see a large
someone leaning against the  pickup and immediately flash back to the frat party
incident with that  big gorilla asshole, Peter. I haven't thought of him in
months. Oh  please, let it be someone else! The closer I get though the
more  it looks like the gorilla. Goddammit! He's staring at me with a smirk on
his face. My heart thumps against my ribs as I look around without seeing
any  help. Balls!
Faking 'cool' I  stop ten feet away from him and ask, "What do you want?"

He slouches  against the fender, "What the fuck do you think I want?
Revenge." I shrug,  "Revenge for what? You tripped and bumped your head." He
snickers, "Oh no, don't  give me that bull-shit. I've been told you and your faggot
brother tripped me on  purpose." I go, "Whoever told you that is either a
liar or  they're delusional.  You came at me and our feet got tangled. As we
were both falling I pushed at you and you fell down backwards."  It's
incongruous that an astonishing cute face like his is  on that big goofy body.

It's a waste of a cute face, that's for  sure.

Peter wipes the back of  his hands across his nose leaving a wet smear
across his knuckles and  sneers, "I spent three fucking days in the hospital
with a concussion  because of you." I go, "Ha! Because of your clumsiness you
mean and, hey, I  ripped my khakis. You gonna buy me a new pair?" He pushes
away from the pickup,  "You're a liar and you can stick your ripped khakis up
your ass." I make a face  like, this is so annoying, then say, "Whatever,
Peter. Um, did  you know that holding a grudge can turn you into a bitter
person; one who  doesn't have any fun. You need to embrace forgiveness of an
unintentional  mix-up and move on with your high school life."  He asks, "Hey,
why the fuck aren't you scared? You should be,  you skinny shit?" I let out
a long exhale shaking my head, "What, didn't  you enjoy our buddy sex? Is
that your problem?" He says, "I enjoyed  it immensely and I'm going to enjoy
it again after I smack you around until  you're as docile as a kitten." I
go, "I don't think so," and he says, "Somebody  needs to answer for my three
days in the hospital." I go, "You  tripped over your own damn feet. Whaddaya
want from me?"

He moves a step closer,  saying, "Fuck you. It's simple, I'm going to carry
you screaming and begging for  mercy to my van and beat you up good before
fucking your brains out. Then,  just like I found you, I'm going to find
that pipsqueak of a brother and do the  same thing to him." I go, "Why? He
didn't do a fucking thing except help me up.  Anyway, why do you want to fuck
with the us two? Do you have a death  wish or something?" He starts towards me
and I point behind him, saying, "Look  whose here." He stops and turns to
look behind him and I take off in the other  direction jackrabbit fast. Us
animals have a fight/flight gene and this  situation calls for flight. Peter
is six-inches-taller and a hundred pounds of  muscles heavier than little ol'
me. I'm fast though and as I come to the end of  the parking lot there's
three feet of gravel that I'm careful not to slip  in. Looking over my
shoulder I see Peter is very quick for a guy his size and  he's gaining on the
jackrabbit making me feel more like a turtle. What  the fuck? Carrying two
backpacks is slowing me down.

There's students  walking in small groups but so far they're not paying
attention to us and,  rather than help me, they'll more likely gather round
cheering-on the fight watching me get my ass kicked. Now  Peter's fifteen feet
behind me, a motivated gorilla for sure. In  desperation, I throw Rob's
backpack at him but it catches on my hand and lands  five feet in front of him.

He snarls, "You skinny faggot," but his  foot catches in a strap of the
backpack and he stumbles then falls forward  sliding face first in the cold
hard gravel stopping only when the top  of his head connects with the bottom of
an aluminum light  standard. It sounded like, BONK! He just lies there
pounding his  bloody fist on the gravel. I'm backing up cautiously as he groans
and  curses. Then, taking advantage of the situation, I jog a circuitous
route around him to retrieve the backpack and then scurry for the pickup. My
heart's pounding like a drum and the adrenaline that poured into my  system
is now making me feel slightly nauseous.

Looking back, I see  he's sitting up with his back against the light pole
with students around him.  Blood's dripping from some part of his nose,
forehead, and from the palms  of both hands as he gives me the finger and yells
something. No way am  I taunting him further, so I get in the pickup and
fire-up the  engine. He's standing and brushing himself off as I drive away
wondering if  he knows where I live? And how the fuck did he know this was our
pickup?  Mother-fucker! I don't need this!
At the apartment,  I text Chubby that I ran into the gorilla and Peter's
looking for his  pound of flesh. I only narrowly escaped his wrath.  Chubby
immediately calls from the Quad, "Did he touch you?" I  tell him, "No, he fell
again and hit his head." He says, "Hit his head? On what?  Never mind, I'm
coming right over and we'll talk about it."  Washing my face and hands I'm
feeling a little shaky with a lot  less bravado than I pretended to have when
confronting Peter  the wolf. Ya know what? I gotta buy a can of pepper
spray or maybe a gun.  That guy is dangerous. What'd he think, I was going to
have a  fist fight with someone six-inches taller and a hundred  pounds
heavier than me. Goddammit this pisses me off.

I go online and  Google: 'is pepper spray legal in Massachusetts?' After
reading  the almost incomprehensible laws on the matter, as far as I can tell
a  Massachusetts resident can legally carry pepper spray, but only for
protection  against bears. Yeah, a pepper spray for bears-only. Too bad I  can't
use the bear spray on gorillas. Or another way of looking at it  is in
Massachusetts only criminals may carry Taser guns and pepper spray. Huh! So, if a
 girl uses pepper spray on a would-be rapist she's the one who broke  the
law. Very helpful law for the rapists and robbers I guess. In  most states
pepper spray is legal and there's a pepper spray pen advertised  that contains
five one-second bursts of pepper spray that will stop an  attacker. That
would be perfect protection, but I don't want to break the law so  I'll get
robbed, beat-up, or murdered instead of breaking the law carrying  pepper
spray.

Chubby buzzes the door.  Huh, that's faster than I would have imagined he
could get here from the Quad. I  buzz him in and wait for him in the hall. He
bursts through the door from the  stairs, saying, "Seriously, did he hurt
you, Dylan?" I shake my head and we  go inside the apartment. "What happened?
Tell me everything." So I tell him  almost word for word what happened and
he laughs. "Oh fuck, he fell and hit his  head again." I'm nodding and kind
of grinning, but then say, "We knew this guy  was a sicko from what happened
at the frat party, right? So we better take  him seriously."

I tell Chub about the  ridiculous Massachusetts law regarding pepper spray
and he ask, "How about  a Taser?" I just give him a  'look' and he goes, "Oh
that's right, we live in Massachusetts... I retract the  question. What do
you think we should do?" I'm like, "What can we do. I forget  his last name
and don't know where he lives or works so we can't even  discuss it with
him. We need to wait for him to pop-up some place  unexpected." Chub says, "If
he pops-up some place unexpectedly and it's you and  me, or you and Rob, I
like our chances. I've seen Rob go ballistic so  that'd be interesting." I
go, "Yeah, he does go ballistic especially when  he has something hard in his
hand like a baseball bat,  but unfortunately he doesn't know when to stop."

Chub nods, "With two  of us good-old-Petey might have his hands full,
individually not so  much." I mumble, "I am so sick of hearing that catch phrase,
'not so much'." Chub mutters, "Yeah, me too."

We get a bottle of beer  each and drink it on the balcony smoking a
cigarette trying to come up with a  plan. Our best idea is maybe buying a couple of
blackjacks. Done our smokes I  go, "We better Google to see if blackjacks
are legal in this state." As we go  inside, he says, "I think we both know
they're not." We Google and find the law  pertaining to blackjacks and about
every other defensive device one could  imagine to protect yourself against
attack, and they are all illegal except  in the hands of law enforcement
types. A civilian using a protective device  will get at least eighteen months
in jail, and as much as five years  if you look cross-eyed at the judge. In
other words take your beating or rape,  recover in the hospital and stop your
whining. Chubby and I look at each other  and I go, "Do you think guns are
okay?" He laughs, "Probably not, but for shits  and giggles let's check." As
I'm doing that Chub  mumbles, "Not that I want a gun." I go, "Me neither."

Oddly you can carry a gun  on your person if you fulfill about twenty
requirements and have a good  reason for a gun license, like routinely carry large
sums of cash or  you work in a dangerous area etc. etc. Chub says, "Peter
the gorilla  probably wouldn't be enough reason for the police to okay a
license to  carry." I mutter, "Probably not."

I'm like, "So we're on  our own, Chub. It boils down to this: the law won't
allow you to protect  yourself, but after someone fucks you up good you can
file a complaint. That's  assuming you live, and if you don't live the cops
will try  halfheartedly to find out who killed you, within reason...

maybe."  Chubby goes, "You're so young and yet so cynical." I'm like, "Hey, an
Idaho  potato in a sock is almost as good as a blackjack. I didn't see any ban
on  potatoes in my Google research. We can carry it in our backpacks." He
shrugs, chuckling, "And tell  Peter to wait a second while I get my sock out
of my backpack." I go, "And  with my luck after a couple of weeks I'll
forget about the potato as it  rots in the sock and I'll be like, 'What the fuck
is that horrible smell?'" We  chuckle, but we're on the lookout for Peter
and we hope we'll think of something  to do to protect ourselves on the spur
of the moment. That's our  plan.

Finished our beers, I  ask, "What have you got going now, Chub?" He says,
"I'm going to the dorm and  study for a mid-term." He and John Beverly wanted
to switch from the dorm to an  apartment for second semester except they
ran into too  many obstacles doing it halfway through the year, so they
remain in the dormitory. Next year though they'll start off in an  apartment like
Rob and I were smart enough to do. I'm like, "Yeah,  mid-terms blow. The
scholastic part of college screws-up everything,  huh?" He nods, patting my
shoulder, saying, "If you see the psycho text me  immediately and I'll come
running. I like the slant you put on the  incident though. The concept of your
feet getting tangled with his and  both of you falling. He was knocked-out
so he doesn't remember and maybe if  we stick with your version he'll
eventually buy it." I go, "Yeah, we can't  keep hitting him over the head with a
baseball bat which it'll come down to if  he persists in bothering either of
us." We leave it at that and Chub takes  off to study which is, in fact,
occasionally necessary at  college.

I'm not going to tell  Rob about this while he's at practice, but I will
tell him about  it when he gets home so he knows the situation. Hmmm, it's
almost two  o'clock and I haven't eaten lunch yet! After checking what we have
in the  refrigerator I decide to eat out. It's too late to hook-up with John
Smith  though, and Pony has classes until four o'clock today so I'm on my
own. I'm thinking a cheesesteak from the Pizza Factory would hit the  spot.

That's what the shop is called, The Pizza Factory and it's the closest
pizza shop that also does an okay cheesesteak. Putting on my winter coat I give
a thought that Peter might be thinking cheesesteak too. Is this how  it's
going to be? Me looking over my shoulder or hovering in the apartment? No!  I
refuse to be like that so out I go wondering again if that turd knows where
I  live?
Driving to the Pizza  Factory where, as I said, they also sell subs,
salads, chicken fingers and  wings and every other thing you can think of. Over
the counter where  you place your order is a menu three-feet-high and
twelve-feet across listing  about a hundred food items you can order. I go inside
knowing  that this time of day it's not going to be busy. I see there's only
one guy  sitting at a table drinking from a quart bottle of Hawaiian Punch,
probably waiting for whatever he ordered. The counter guys are friendly in
here and with a smile a tall skinny guy with a seriously receding  hairline
asks me, 'What can I get for you today?" I'm like, "A large  cheesesteak and
a can of soda." The guy writes it down asking, "Here or to  go?" Normally
I'd say 'to go' because I'd rather eat it in my apartment than eat  here
alone. Today however, to prove to myself I'm not afraid to be out and  about
despite Peter the gorilla, I say, "Here," and after paying I go  over to the
refrigerated cooler and choose a Pepsi instead of  Coke just to be different.

Popping the tab and  taking a swallow of Pepsi I sit at a table as far away
from where the other  guy's sitting as possible. Glancing over briefly I
see he appears to  be in his twenties and he's wearing a uniform of some sort.

Parked at the  curb is a delivery truck with 'Italio's Bakery' on the box
part of the  truck so that's what's probably inscribed on the guy's shirt and
hat.  He's holding his hat though so I can't read what's on the front. I
can  see he has a big pile of white-blond thick unkempt hair hanging down  on
his forehead. I think back to when, for a couple of months, I had  hair that
long.

One of the cooks puts a  plastic basket with an Italian sub cut in half
inside, saying, "Here ya  go, Dennis." The delivery guy looks up and nods. He
brings his  large Hawaiian Punch bottle with him as he picks up the sub,
mumbling,  "Thanks, Worm." Worm? Jesus, what a nickname for someone in the food
industry.  Dennis carries his sub and quart of Hawaiian Punch walking right
up to where I'm sitting and asks, "Would you mind if I joined you? We're
the  only ones in here and so it's seem antisocial if..." I'm looking at him
like he just stepped out of a spaceship so he shrugs and smiles waiting for
me to say something. He's missing a bottom tooth but he has a  very nice
smile. His eyes are soft and he seems nervous. Shrugging again he  looks over
to where he was sitting before as I take a few seconds before  saying,
"Yeah, I guess so." He sits down mumbling, 'Thanks, I hate eating  alone." Well
fuck, so do I but it's preferable to eating with a  stranger!
He holds his hand out,  "Hi, I'm Dennis Raymond and that's my truck out
there." I stupidly  look out at the truck shaking his hand, mumbling, "Dylan,
how ya doing?" He  has this open face with a 'gosh gee' expression, telling
me, "My shift ends at  four but I'm already done all my deliveries and
pick-ups. I'm not dumb enough to  go in early though 'cause they'll increase my
route." I nod, "Huh."  Pushing the big blob of hair off his forehead, he asks,
"Are you  a Merrimack student?" then he picks up half the sub and takes a
big bite. If he eats with his mouth open, I'll scream! He doesn't  though,
so I nod, "Yeah, I'm a junior." He swallows, pats his mouth with a  paper
napkin and says, "Holy shit you don't look old enough. Did you skip grades  in
middle school or something?" I'm looking over at the counter trying to think
 if it's too late to get that cheesesteak to go. I mean without being
obviously  rude about it. And why the fuck doesn't someone call me on my
cellphone?  That'd be perfect! Shaking my head, I ask, "What was that?" He's chewing
and  smiling holding up a finger like, 'just a second'.

He swallows  and goes, "I wondered if you skipped a grade or two because
you look too  young to be a junior at college." What the hell, he's a nice
enough guy and  friendly as a puppy. I go, "No, ha. No skipped grades. I'm
twenty-one which  is the appropriate age to be a junior at college. Did you,
um...?" He  finishes my stupid question for me, saying, "Go to college?" What
would he  be driving a delivery truck for if he went to college? He says,
"No, I wish  I had though. I'm saving money to go later. It's probably a lot of
fun with  parties and beer-drinking-sessions while talking deep thoughts
with your  roommate, huh?" Big friendly smile. I go, "Not quite like that, no.

Um, did you  go to North Andover High?" He shakes his head and swallows,
saying, "No,  I graduated three years ago from St. Pete's High School in
Harrisburg,  Pennsylvania. Guess we're the same age then, huh?" For something to
say, I  ask, "Did you play sports? Big guy like you." He nods, "Football and
basketball.  I was a center on the football team and a 'four' on the
basketball team, you know, power forward. Look at me now though. I'm getting
flabby already." I go, "Ha, you look in pretty good shape to  me."

I'm just noticing that  the front part of his hair, the bangs and a little
further back, are the  only long thick hairs on his head. Behind those
hairs, all the rest of the  hair on his head is an uneven
one-to-one-and-a-half-inches-long. It's a really bizarre, um, weird  haircut. Dennis asks, "How's
dormitory life? Is it all guys or are you in a guys  and girls dormitory?" I
say, "Huh? Oh, I live off campus sharing an  apartment with my, um, friend."

Worm puts a basket with my  cheesesteak in it on the counter, saying,
"Here's your sub, pal." I get it  and bring it back to the table. Dennis is a
nice guy if a bit, I don't know,  innocent or maybe he's slightly retarded.

He goes, "I live in an  apartment with a roommate too." Then he points in
the general direction of the  gas station, saying, "Down route 125 at the
Hillview Apartments. That's our  temporary residence anyway. Wayne has a big
ranch in Texas but we're  hardly ever there." I'm thinking, 'what the fuck?'
as I mumble, "Un huh," and  take a bite of my cheesesteak." The melted cheese
burns my tongue so I  grimace and drink some Pepsi. Looking up I see the
sun shining through the  big plate glass window at the front of the shop
behind Dennis. His  ears stick straight out the sides of his head and both ears
are like glowing  pink from the sun shining through them. Nice shaped ears
though. You see guys  with tiny ears that look weirdly funny. Poor guys.

Dennis has that pale  complexion that always looks clean and he has dark pink
splashes on each cheek  that guys with his pale complexion often have. A nice
looking  clean-shaven guy.

He's chewing with a bit  of a friendly smile on his face and although I
don't care for the silence I  can't think of anything to say. Finally he asks,
"Who cooks for you  guys, if you don't mind me asking. I do all the cooking
for Wayne and  me." Nodding, I say, "Yeah, I do too, for Rob and me." He
asks, "Is Rob your  boyfriend?" What the hell?  I shrug and go, "Well yeah, but
how'd you  know that?" He says, "I'm not sure why I suspected that. Have
you been  together long?" I nod, "Uh huh, we've been boyfriends for almost
four years  now." He's not taken aback by that at all, mumbling, "I'm jealous."

To hurry  past that topic, I ask. "Did you go to school in Indiana with
your  roommate, Dwayne?" He says, "It's Wayne and Pennsylvania not Indiana,
but nooooo we didn't go to school together. Wayne's thirty-eight years  old."

Holy shit! I'm frowning at that so Dennis chuckles, "Yeah, it's strange to
be roommates with someone that much older than me I guess, but it's an
unusual situation," and he uses his fingers to swipe the hair off his  forehead
again."

Okay, I'll eat this  sandwich as quickly as possible and get the fuck back
to the apartment and hide  under the bed until it's time to pick Rob up. I'm
getting freaked-out this  afternoon. Dennis rubs his hand up the back of
his head asking, "Do you think  this is a weird haircut? It's really long in
front and unevenly short all over  the rest of my head. Wayne likes me to
comb a big pompadour in front."  Avoiding answering that question directly, I
go, "Um, where'd you get  that haircut anyway?" He says, "Wayne cuts my
hair." I nod and add, "Yeah  well, like you said, it is little bit weird, yeah."

He blushes, "I don't want  to embarrass Wayne so I don't say anything about
it. I know  he tries his best." Jesus!
I've got nothing to say  to that so I finish the first half of the
cheesesteak without talking. He's  looking at me and when our eyes meet he averts
his eyes immediately. That  was awkward, so to say something, I ask, "So, do
you give him haircuts  as well as doing all the cooking?" He chuckles, then
goes, "Noooo." He does  those long 'nooooo's'. I shrug like, 'what?' and he
goes, "Wayne has a ponytail  of prematurely gray hair down to the back of his
waist and a black beard  down to his chest. Nobody cuts Wayne's hair." I
go, "Oh wow, ha ha, that's  pretty freaky." He nods his head and I go, "And,
you know what,  Dennis? I'm sorry but I don't believe you. I think you're
pulling my  chain with all this crazy shit." He earnestly says, "I don't blame
you, Dylan, but look..." and he takes his wallet out and shows me a picture
of  him wearing only jockey shorts and looking small next to a big hairy
guy  wearing a motorcycle jacket with nothing on under it. Thank God he's
wearing pants. He has his arm around the back of Dennis' neck and  Dennis has
his innocent big smile going for him in the picture. Luckily for  me I can't
see the gray ponytail down Wayne's back or I might hurl some  cheesesteak on
Dennis' Italian sub. It's weird but somehow the picture  doesn't have a
sexual vibe. More like father and son.

I go, "He has gray hair  and a black beard? That's extremely unusual."

Dennis goes, "Yep that's  the complete opposite of how it should be. Well
actually it should be all  black hair like it is all over the rest of him... and
he's a hairy dude! Ha ha!  Yeah, but somehow the hair on his head turned gray
when he was in his early  twenties." I go, "Normally I'd say it's better
turning gray than  falling out, but in this case... holy shit." He laughs,
"Yeah, it's  disgusting-looking alright and so is Wayne when ya get right down
to it."  Hearing that I choke on some cheesesteak, half wanting to laugh and
 half wanting to throw-up. To Denis' comment, I mutter, "Oh, I didn't
notice." He laughs again, "Ya can't help but fucking notice, look..." and  he
holds the picture up again. I'm pushing his hand away, saying, "I'm fucking
eating here." He laughs, "Oh man, I've gotta eat meals with that dude every
day." To double check, I go, "Wayne's not your father, right?" He shakes his
 head, "No, although I guess he sort of is." Whatever the fuck that means.

Wait a second here... Dennis never said they were a gay couple and he never
said  he was gay. I'm assuming something that is probably way off  base.

Trying to collect  myself here, I ask, "So, how'd you and Wayne hook-up,
Dennis?" He goes, "He's a  sugar daddy who picked me up in a gay bar when I
was nineteen." Oh man! So I was  right, they're gay. Dennis says, "Yeah,
Wayne's rich. He got rich with a  dot-com company just before the bubble burst
and the market crashed. When he's  ready we'll go to say, Brazil, or the
Andes, or just to the Gulf  of Mexico. He says one  of these days we'll just take
the fuck off. That's what he says anyway." I  don't know what to think. I
ask, "What's he waiting for?" Dennis makes a  face like, 'who knows?' then
says, "Wayne's basically a hermit or  recluse, or I don't know what to call
him exactly. Except for me he  keeps to himself and does whatever he feels
like doing. Legally I mean. He  doesn't drink but he smokes lots of grass. Oh,
I guess that is  illegal."

I finish my  cheesesteak before Dennis' finished his sub because he did
most of the  talking. I go, "Well, Dennis, I wish you good luck in your unusual
life, and I  gotta tell you that haircut of yours sucks." He grins, "Your's
ain't  so good either!" I have to chuckle at that, "Ya got me there,
Dennis." He leans  over and whispers, "Do you wanna fuck in the back of my box
truck?"  That's so ludicrous and unexpected I laugh out loud and pat his big
shoulder, "Not today, Dennis. Ha ha, you're really something though." He
whispers, "Please! I'm clean and I always use condoms and desperately want to
do  it with someone attractive for once. I'd really appreciate it, please,"

and he's  got tears in his eyes. He pleads, "I'm not crazy or nuts even
though I know  it sounds like a crazy life I lead, but there's reasons for
that."

Reasons for that, huh?  I go, "What reasons?" He says, "I'll tell you, but
please don't leave." Why  am I hesitating instead of getting the hell out of
here? What a crazy day.  First the gorilla and now this. I go, "I'm, that
is... we just  can't screw in the back of your truck among the hot dog
rolls." He  sincerely informs me, like it matters one way or the other, "Oh, we
don't do hot dog rolls. It's an Italian bakery." He said that  so
seriously... oh man! We walk out together with him leaving half his  sub uneaten. He
says, "Please, Dylan. My life is goofy, I know, but I'm not  goofy." I ask,
"How many guys have you made this same pitch to?" He  says, "None. I swear to
God and I don't know how I even worked up the balls to  ask if I could sit
with you, never mind ask about sex."

I'm at Rob's pickup  that's parked in the parking lot while Dennis' truck
is parked in front of  the pizza shop. I ask, "Why'd you choose me to ask?"

He looks startled, "Um,  well you're obviously aware how sexy and attractive
you are, right?"  I'm shaking my head thinking about John Smith. Without the
kooky sugar daddy,  John came on to me with almost the same reasoning.

Because I'm good looking  and sexy it's okay to ask me to have sex with them,
total strangers. Without  touching me, Dennis says, "Please, can we get a beer
some place and I'll  explain my situation. I shouldn't have told you about
Wayne but I didn't think  ahead very far."

He's certainly good  looking and either really sincere or a great actor
wasting his talents  driving a truck. I ask, "How'd you lose the tooth?" His
finger goes to his lip,  "Oh, a guy at work dropped a box accidentally and
cracked my tooth. I'm getting  an implant next Tuesday. Have you ever had one
of those? The thought of it  scares the shit out of me. Drilling into my jaw
to screw a tooth in. Ya know?" I  go, "No, I've never had one but it does
sound gruesome. Look, I'll have a  beer with you but no promises, okay? We'll
have a beer and get to know each  other and maybe next time we have a beer,
um, you'll have a new tooth." He  laughs, saying, "I thought you were going
to say maybe the next  time we could do some sex together." I go, "I knew
that's what you'd think. It's  called, trying to be funny." He says, "Oh,
I'll be on the alert for  that next time." A tad exasperated, I'm like, "Yeah,
do you know Rolf's  Bar?" He nods, "Sure a'course. I'll meet you there and
thanks,  Dylan," and he seems to mean it.

In the pickup, I wonder  why am I doing this? I think it's because Dennis
has a sincere quality  about him that appeals to me. And he pleaded, so ya
know, it's flattering... A  nice looking guy whose maybe four-inches taller
than me and bigger. Am  I thinking he's as big as Peter and I want to erase
the memory of a random nasty  big guy with this big nice guy? And anyway, my
side-sex has  been pitifully inadequate lately and especially compared to my
early  side-sex heydays. Plus, maybe I can get Dennis to run Peter over with
that big  box truck of his.

Yeah, having side-sex  with John Smith helped me partially get the nasty
taste of the  gorilla out of my mind and maybe Dennis can further that along.

Running into  Peter today brought to mind the unpleasantness of our
experience like pulling a  scab off a sore. If not for that I probably wouldn't do
this with Dennis. The  thing is, basically I want to convince myself that
Peter's  the anomaly; the one bad apple in the barrel. I don't want that
unfortunate experience to spoil random side-sex for me. Almost  every side-sex
buddy I've had in my life has been a regular guy for the most  part. I made
the mistake with Peter of not paying attention to the warning signs  and I
don't intend making that mistake again. I'll see what Dennis has to say  but at
the first sign of anything that doesn't feel right I'm outta  there.

Dennis somehow gets to  Rolf's Bar before me. Standing next to the driver's
door he waves at me and  shows his very nice smile. I get out and we go
inside the bar where again  the bartender recognizes me and only cards Dennis.

We order two drafts with  Dennis saying, "He must know you or he'd have
carded you too." I nod,  "Yeah, I always get carded every place else. It's funny
I don't get carded  here because I've only been in here a few times since
last September."  He says, "Well nobody is gonna forget your face, Dylan." I
go, "Compliments are  very effective with me usually, but not if they're
overdone." He mumbles,  "I'll keep that in mind."

We sip our beers then  he says, "I need to explain myself but I don't want
it to sound like a sob story  because I don't think of it as that. I grew-up
in Pennsylvania an only  child with parents who have never been what you'd
call progressive  thinkers. They despised the fact I claimed to be gay.

Reluctantly, as long  as I went to weekly psychiatrist sessions to turn me into
a  sexually straight individual, my parents let me live with them until I
graduated high school. When I still claimed to be gay they gave me  the
alternative of being straight or being gone." I'm shaking my head  hardly
believing parents would treat their child like that. Then I remember  Seth. His
story is even worse because his parents didn't let him finish  high school
before throwing him out. Instead of making pepper-spray illegal  perhaps they
should make it illegal to abandon your  children.

Dennis tells me that  even though Wayne picked him up in a gay bar he
doesn't think Wayne is  especially gay. He mostly treats Dennis as a son with
maybe more affection  than most father show a twenty-one-year-old son. Dennis
says, "Wayne's as  nice a man as you'd ever want to meet although  he's
extremely introverted." I mumble,  "And he makes grotesque grooming choices."

Dennis laughs. Nice  laugh, then he goes, "Bad grooming choices for certain,
but actually Wayne  is fanatical about cleanliness. He showers for over an
hour every day. Showering  and washing all that disgusting hair." People can be
very odd! Dennis says,  "He really is like a hairy friendly quiet bear." I
go, "I know where you can get  pepper spray for bears." He looks at me funny
and goes, "Pepper spray?" I go,  "It's another story altogether, Dennis,
for some other  time."

As we finish our  beers, I ask, "Is this Wayne person gonna be pissed when
you have the money  you need for college?" He shrugs, "Nah, it's his idea in
the first place. He  puts a few- thousand-dollars a month from the annuity
checks he  gets every month in a savings account for me. When there's
enough, I'm off to  college. Wayne says he expects he won't see much of me after I
go away to  school." I'm like, "Yeah, that's like most parents I guess. The
thing is he's  being a prick by not just giving you whatever you need for
college now. Why  do a couple of thousand a  month?" He says, "So we'll bond
as an odd family I guess. That's how he explains  it. Anyway, when he sold
his dot-com company the bulk of the money went into a an annuity paying
X-amount every month for  life. It's quite a large amount though, so he could
probably send me off to  college now I suppose. I'm not going to complain
though because he's  all I've got." Curious if Dennis can even get in a college,
I'm like, "Um, have  you taken SAT's?" He goes, "No, but I was a straight
'A' student through  high school." No shit? He doesn't come across as a
brainiac.

Wow, just when you  think you've heard it all! I ask, "So, um, how much sex
do you two do?" He  shrugs, "Very little. Almost none actually. Only when I
get  out-of-my-mind-horny like I am now will he fuck me and always with a
condom. It's like mercy sex. Like I said, I don't even think he's  gay." I
shudder thinking about that waist-long gray pony tail swinging  around as he
fucks. Dennis goes, "We don't ever talk about it but I think  he was looking
for a run-away or homeless gay guy to share his odd life  with." This just
gets weirder and weirder. I mumble, "So you're saying  the guy's not a
monster." He chuckles, "Nope, more like an eccentric  millionaire who wants to
pay-forward his monetary good fortune... and  be left alone. He doesn't give a
fuck what anyone thinks about him, except  me. I'm not spoiled though,
which is why I'm working. That's one of the  things Wayne insist on." I think
I've heard enough about Wayne to last me  two lifetimes so I don't ask  any
more questions.

Instead Dennis asks me  questions about Rob's and my relationship. I show
him a picture of Rob and me  and tell him basic facts about our relationship
including the part  about us having a partially open one. Dennis dreamily
says,  "Someday that's going to  be me with some guy who doesn't even need to
be handsome or cute like you  two. He'll just be nice and considerate and
with some love for me, but  I'd hope for a monogamist relationship." Cue the
violins, but  Dennis is a sweet guy who has led a strange life... so far.

We order a second beer  and I'm like, "Not to pry into your life too much
but do you get out  much or are you pretty much keeping your, um, roommate
company?" He says,  "He encourages me to go out but we rarely go out together.

Once in a blue moon  we'll have dinner out together. Mostly I'll pick-up a
guy at a gay bar to have  sex with. Someone who is nice and not too old, but
that's only happened like  three for four times. Then occasionally, like
every two months, I'll  book a date online with a youngish guy although
usually it turns  into an uncomfortable scene for me. You'd be my first
sort-of-friend to  have sex with. And, um, I know we're not friends per se, but sort
of... don't ya  think?"  I go, "Sure. You always, always use condoms though,
right?" He  nods, "Swear to God, yeah! Don't you?" Skirting that question I
ask, "Do  you have a condom on you right now?" Oh my God, he blushes a dark
pink,  saying, "Well, no, but I'll buy some at that CVS. It's only two
blocks from  here. I wasn't expecting to meet anyone like you today, um... or
it's more like  I never expected to meet someone like you ever. I hope that's
not  overdoing it."

I decided I'm going to  do it with him probably during the first beer.

Dennis is unassuming and likable  and, unless he has a split personality, he
appears harmless. I'm  like, "Well, Dennis, go ahead and buy those condoms and
we'll see if we can  do this." He sort of scrunches his face for a second,
then mumbles, "Thank  you," and we get up and leave. Outside he asks, "Do you
want  to ride with me to the CVS?" I go, "No, I'll follow you," and that's
what we do. He's only in the CVS three minutes before coming out carrying a
 little bag. He drives his truck up next to where I'm parked and  signals
for me to put the window down. I do that and he says, "Behind Stop and  Shop
there's a safe spot." I nod and when he pulls away I follow  him feeling
funny low in my belly. Having side-sex with a new buddy... I'm  kinda excited
about it.

I know the spot he's  referring to. Rob and I used that behind the Stop and
Shop  building spot a couple of times freshman year. It's a short drive and
 I'm wondering if Dennis expects to 'top'. He said Wayne occasionally fucks
 him. That sounds like Wayne 'tops' but it's unclear if Dennis' bar
pick-ups and  online prostitute are 'topping' him or the other way around. There's
a loading  dock behind Stop & Shop and Dennis backs the box truck almost up
to it. We both get out and at the back of the truck there's just enough
room for  him to open one side of the door. We get in and he closes the door.

There's a  one-foot-square-window high on each door that lets in some light.

It smells  pleasantly of bread in here.

Dennis hands me the  little bag and I look inside to see a three-pack of
lubricated condoms. He drops  his pants, saying, "I'm sorry, Dylan, but I
gotta get this truck turned-in  at the Lawrence location by four o'clock. Um, so
we'll need to be  kinda quick. Hope you don't mind." I shrug staring at his
penis. It's the  fattest one I've ever seen and almost as long as mine.

Fatter even than Rob's  and almost two- inches longer. He quietly asks, "Is
anything wrong?"  I snap out of it and go, "Oh, no. Um, are you...?" He goes,
"I'll  'do' you if it's okay with you, or..." I shake my head, "No, that's
fine," and I pull my pants down and then pull my winter  jacket and
sweatshirt halfway up my back.

He's stroking his cock  with a shy grin, murmuring, "I'm wicked excited
about this. Look my hand  is shaky." I go, "Huh," and he does a nervous giggle,
saying, "Hope I  don't seem like a kid, but I'll probably cum really fast."

I'm biting my  bottom lip looking at his huge cock again, mumbling, 'Uh
huh. Don't worry about,  um... whatever." He says, "If I can get behind you,"

and we both move a little.  Behind me, with a hand lightly on my shoulder, he
rubs his cock up my ass crack  inhaling noisily as he does it, then, "Would
you open a condom for me?" His cock  rubs over my asshole with my dick sort
of quivering a little. Opening one of the  condom packets I'm like, "You'll
need to go in slow, Dennis. I'm not used  to a cock as big as yours." He
says, "Yeah, I know it's pretty big, but it's not  as big as Wayne's. I'll be
careful with you. Don't worry, Dylan, but like I  said it'll be a quick
orgasm for me. I wish I had time to do you twice."  I'm thinking, don't get
ahead of yourself, buddy...

His cock  quickly feels hard against my butt cheek as I pass him the packet
and he  rolls on the condom.  I didn't notice if the packet indicated
extra-large but it probably did. He  mutters, "There, it's on, Dylan. Um, you
have a beautiful ass and I  liked that you shave your pubic hair too. You're,
um, pretty special." I say,  "Thanks," and his left hand is on my shoulder
again as  he guides the head of his boner to my asshole. There some pressure
and  my anus begins spreading. The lube feels cold but only initially. It
warms  quickly from the body heat of his hard penis and my buttocks. As  his
large penis head slides tightly in a fraction of an inch at a time the lube
gets squeezed off and runs like liquid inside both sides on my ass cheeks
and continues down to the back of my balls. I grunt and Dennis says, "You
might  want to bend over a little more." I do that and hold onto the inside
handle  of the door.

I'm guessing half the  head is past the lips of my asshole and it's
beginning to hurt as I grunt again.  He does a hip thrust and I yell out, "Oooh
fuck!" Denis rubs my back,  quietly saying, "Burns a little, I know. It'll
settle down." He said that like  he was out of breath and then I hear him
gasping for air. He's  obviously very aroused. After ten seconds or so he applies
more pressure  and maybe two inches of shaft slide very tightly up my ass.

I'm holding my  breath while picturing in my head that big log-of-a-boner
impossibly disappearing inside me. The pain hangs in the air like a  fog and
only slowly dissipating until it's tolerable and I  can exhale. It's worth
the pain though because it feels awesome to be  opened-up back there like
this. Feels really good having a huge cock in my  ass again. And maybe the
biggest ever. I grin to myself thinking about the  last fuck-buddy who fucked me
in the back of a vehicle was Timmy and his  two-inch cock. That was an SUV
not a truck, but their vehicles aren't the  most noticeable difference.

Dennis rubs my back  again, soothingly saying, "I'm going to get the last
three inches in now so hold  your breath," and he pushes it up my ass with me
blowing air out  through clenched teeth going, "Aaaaaah, ooooow!" It feels
like something split inside me, like maybe his boner broke through the wall
 of my bowel or something. Very painful but for a surprisingly short period
of  time. Soon I'm feeling totally dominated by his huge organ. It's like I
couldn't  straighten-up if I wanted to. Dennis isn't acting dominant
though, as  he's murmuring, "Is it feeling better yet, Dylan. Your asshole looks
really  stretched." I grunt, "It's feeling better by the second." My ass
never lets  me down! This rectum of mine is a freak of Nature in the best ways
possible.  It's chuck full of fabulous nerve ending that are tuned to be way
more towards the pleasure spectrum than the one for pain. Some  pain with
fatter or longer boners but the emphasis, the primary function of  nerve
endings in my ass anyway, is pleasure. It's just pure luck on my  part.

He  goes, "Unless you say not to, I'm pulling pack now," and I flick a hand
 back at him like, 'go ahead then'. He retracts his boner slowly as
millions of nerve ends sizzle with pleasure making me moan, Mmmmm, oooh,
yeaaaah." He mutters, "Oh good," and pushes it  all the way back up my ass. My
shoulders shudder and I moan again, "Ooooh fuck,  feels really good, Dennis."

Pulling it back again until the head is almost  completely out and then the
six-inch thrust right back up my ass until  his crotch smacks against my
buttocks, "Slap," and I go up on my  toes. No more conversation. It's, "Slap slap
slap," sounds bouncing  off the stale bread. I'm guessing the circumference
of his boner  is about four-inches now that it's fully boned-up and hard as
a billy-club. It  moves back and forth in my rectum smoothly but as tightly
as anything that's  ever been in there. Once he got me opened-up it's a
fantastic ride hitting  every pleasure spot know to a rectum.

Time has no meaning  now. It's an ocean of sexual pleasure that has my back
constantly arched  and my torso getting lower and lower until my head is
two feet off the floor  with my hands grasping the door handle. Bent way over
like this afford the  most pleasure as he's almost driving that huge boner
straight down into my ass.  With each thrust he pulls my hips up and every
time he  pulls his huge boner back it feels like my bowels are coming out with
his  cock. Oooh, the exquisite pleasure! Dennis doesn't moan so much as he
breaths heavily and nosily. I, on the other hand, am pretty much one big
moan of  pleasure. My cock is standing straight out and when my orgasm comes
on me it  comes on me fast and I shake as cum flies out of my hard cock along
with an  embarrassing squeal that almost sounded like a girl's squeal. Oh
God  another long stream of cum flies out as Dennis is humping against me
filling the  condom with his load.

I'm not sure how long  we fucked but it couldn't have been very long. I'm
literally trembling from  my orgasm as I slowly lift my head. Dennis pulls
out right away and it feels so  good, like a nerd, I go, "Oooooh!" Looking
back I see Dennis' face is bright red  and his chest is heaving as he gasps, "I
can't even breathe... oooh, that was...  ooh... spectacular. I'm sorry it
was so fast but I, um... Ah, Jesus. That was  fucking wonderful...  thank
you." I'm nodding my head standing up now  but still feeling some vibrations
inside my rectum and I guess it'll take a  few minutes to settle down in
there. Liquefied lubricant has pretty much covered  the inside of my butt cheeks
and all down underneath. I hear a drip sound  and look down to see a wet
spot of greasy lubricant between my legs. His cock is  so big around the
stretched lips of my asshole stripped a lot of the  lubricant off the condom as he
was thrusting.

Dennis has already  taken the condom off and pulled his pants up. He's
wiping my cum off the door  with paper towels, saying, "Do you think we could do
this again some time?" I'm  still feeling rippling effects of that great
fuck, muttering, "Yeah,  sure." Shaky still, I pull up my pants knowing
they'll be an  immediate lubricant stain on the back.  He asks, "What's your
cellphone number?" I tell him and he nods but doesn't write it down or log  it
into his phone. Instead he mumbles, "I'll remember it, but now I'm  really
sorry but I gotta get this truck back." I'm like, "Sure, sure, no  problem,"

and he opens the left side of the door. We get out and he pats my  shoulder,
"You'll never know how much that meant to me, Dylan. I'll call  you when I'm
assigned this route again."

He's getting in the cab  of the truck. I'm still a little dazed as he waves
and drives off. I look at my  watch: it's ten of four. Hope he doesn't need
to go far. Lawrence is one of  the towns next to North Andover. The border
is  a mile from here but it's a big town so I hope his shop is close.

Getting in the  pickup and sitting on the seat it feels like I'm sitting on a life
preserver my  ass is so wide open. I hug the steering wheel, shuddering
again. That was one  damn good fucking of my ass right there! Wow, that was
good!
Driving up route 114  I'm thinking Rob should be calling any minute now.

Usually it's a  three-hour practice but  maybe this first one needs to be
longer. Back at the condo I dump my underwear  and jeans in the hamper and wash
my ass and between my legs with soap and  water. With a finger I gently
explore my asshole that's already closed up  about halfway, but still feels
weird being opened even this wide. Putting  on clean jockey shorts and
sweatpants I lie on the bed feeling good. What a nice  guy Dennis turned out to be
and how about the boner on that kid! That was  something and I'd definitely
like to do it with him again. He has my phone  number but I didn't get his.

Yeah, but that works for me because I much prefer  being invited. Wouldn't it
be something if I went on a stretch where  side-sex just happened seemingly
on its own like it did with  Dennis... and like it did in the early days. I
daydream about  some of those days gone by and get startled when my
cellphone rings. Fumbling it  out of my pocket I see the caller ID and go, "Hi,
Rob!"

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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