Date: Fri, 19 Jan 2018 22:38:31 -0500
From: Bill <mgtbill@aol.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR SUMMER     Chapter 20

DYLAN'S SUMMER FOLLOWING HIS COLLEGE JUNIOR YEAR

Chapter 20

by Donny Mumford



As we're getting out of the car at the Dickers' house, Danny goes, "Whoa,
look at that big-ass motorcycle! Who do you suppose owns that?" I say,
"It's Dodger's, Rob's brother. He rode it from Las Vegas." Walking up the
driveway we can hear talking coming from the backyard. Danny mumbles,
"Dodger, huh? Yeah, I remember him from many summers ago. Funny
name... Dodger. Um, he was in the Army, right?" I go, "Yeah, he got an
early discharge from active duty, but now he needs to do two years in the
Army Reserves." Danny asks, "Have you seen him since he got back?" I go,
"Yes, a couple of times." Apparently, Rob doesn't spend a lot of time
talking about his brother to Danny. I think Robby is pretty closed-mouth
about everything, which is an admirable personality trait in my book.

Danny grins at me and squeezes the back of my neck, saying, "You always
look so, um, neat. It makes me want to muss your hair or something." and he
ruffles my hair adding, "Sorry. You're fun to touch." I frown, muttering,
"Get real," and finger-comb my hair. What the hell, Danny's big on touching
but I don't really mind. I find him to be kind of an affectionate guy in a
nice friendship kind of way. Something I never knew about him because we're
just recently getting to know each other.

He stops to light a cigarette and, while exhaling, mumbles, "I forget the
details, but didn't that fucking brother of his caused Rob a lot of
trouble? His parents too I believe. A few years ago, I mean." I'm
remembering how Danny caused Rob a lot of trouble too. He quit Rob's grass
cutting crew early last summer. Danny was supposed to live with the Dickers
all summer while his Mom and Dad were going through their divorce. Of
course, Danny supposedly living with Rob was the main reason I was in
Georgia and only heard about Danny's early exit from Rob's crew later
on. Hmmm, maybe that's when Mrs. Dickers got her crush on Danny or whatever
it has she has for him. It's something and maybe it happened the couple of
weeks he lived with them. Without bringing that up, I mumble, "I think the
brothers have reconciled their differences." Danny goes, "Ya know, I was
too harsh about Rob's brother a minute ago. I don't really know him or what
happened between him and the family. I shouldn't have been so
critical. Just sticking up for Rob I guess."

We continue up the drive to the backyard-gate where Danny sees Dodger and
puts his hand on my chest to stop us outside the gate. Dodger's facing us
sitting at the outdoor table, but not looking at us. Danny murmurs, "Jeez,
he's, um, a good-looking fuck, huh, and tall?" I go, "He's only an inch or
so taller than you or me but he's slim and looks taller I guess." Danny
just nods his head, apparently taken aback a little at how well Dodger
turned out. He barely knew him when Dodger was twelve or thirteen. Finally
I mumble, "Dodger resembles Rob, don'cha think?" Danny shakes his head,
"No, not really, but he's awfully, um, good-looking and, um, sexy. I'm
assuming he's 'straight'; he sure looks 'straight'." I mutter, "Gee, yeah,
he does look straight," as I open the gate.

The Dickers family, all four of them, are sitting around the outdoor table,
the round one with the big blue umbrella opened over it on this sunny
day. Rob and Dodger have beer bottles in front of them while Mr. and
Mrs. Dickers are drinking what appears to be gins and tonics. The slices of
lime are the reason I'm guessing they're having gin and tonic drinks. Gin
and tonics are made with a gruesome concoction of bitter stuff and I can't
say I recommend that particular cocktail but perhaps they're just right for
Rob's parents. No, what a horrible thing to say!

Rob holds his hand up and goes, "There they are. We didn't think you were
gonna make it." We walk over as Danny cups his cigarette and says, "We had
some fun this afternoon. First a fight and then we played some half-court
basketball." They're like, "A fight?" and Mrs. Dickers goes, "Omigod, you
boys and your fighting! Are you alright, Danny?" He goes, "Yes, I'm fine,
Mrs. D.." Yeah, I'm fine too, Mrs. D.. To Danny she says, "Good, but please
put that cigarette out." Danny mutters, "Oh, sorry," and looks around for a
place to put it out, finally settling on flicking off the lit head and
putting the rest of the cigarette in his pocket.

Rob's like, "Well, what happened? How'd you get in a fight?" I let Danny
tell his version. He puts his arm across my shoulders, saying, "I'll give
you the Cliffs Notes version: walking up to the basketball court we see
three guys from the high school baseball team we were on, Rob. Anyway,
they're shooting hoops, Dylan loses his cool and throws a punch at one of
the guys and I had to jump in to save Dylan's life." He looks over at me
with a gleam in his eyes, smirking, so I go, "Yeah, that's exactly what
happened." Mrs. Dickers goes, "Dylan, you're damn lucky Danny was with
you." I mumble, "Yes, that's what Danny told me." Rob's like, "Really?"

Mr. Dickers says, in a bored voice, "You both look like you survived the
fight pretty well." I go, "I lost three buttons off my shirt, but yeah, it
wasn't much of a fight." Rob asks, "How'd it end?" I shrug, "After about
thirty-seconds a baseball coach from high school came along and broke it
up." Rob ask Danny, "Which coach," and Danny goes, "Coach Rush." Rob's
like, "Oh yeah, he was a pretty good guy." and they go on to tell a couple
of glory-day stories involving past victories from high school baseball
games.

Mrs. Dickers get up from the table, an empty cocktail glass in her hand,
and says, "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I've got to prepare some food or
we'll never eat dinner." She looks at Mr. Dickers, saying, "Robert, you
haven't even started the grill yet." There's a subtle hint if I've ever
heard one. In a monotone, Mr. Dickers says, "Yes, I realize that,
Emily. Dodger's going to take me around the block on his motorcycle," and
she goes, "Omigod, you're too old for that." Dodger says, "No he's not,
Mom, and neither are you. You're never too old for a motorcycle." His Dad
says, "He's right, Em. Surely you've seen groups of old fat
gray-haired-hippies riding their 'hogs' with their gray ponytails flying in
the wind behind them?" She goes, "Ugh! Yes, now that you mention it. Awful,
but you're not a left-over hippy." Then she says to Danny, "Can you give me
a hand with these glasses and beer bottles?" Eager to please, Danny, nods
his head, "Oh, of course, Mrs. D."

Getting up from his chair Mr. Dickers waves his hand dismissively at his
wife, saying to Dodger, "C'mon son, let's fire-up at that machine of
yours." Dodger grins at me and, as he's getting up from the table,
Mrs. Dickers flashes Dodger a disapproving 'look' and goes inside followed
by Danny. Huh, I'm relieved to see that Dodger, actually all of them are
apparently more or less starting fresh and moving on, putting the past
behind them. Or at least on the surface that's what they're doing. As he
walks past me, Dodger pats my shoulder giving me his cute smirk. My ass
puckers as I watch him leave the yard.

Robby gets up and stands next to me lighting a cigarette with his Mom
calling from inside the screen door, "No cigarettes near the house!"
Ignoring that Rob exhales his first drag and passes me the cigarette,
asking, "You okay, babe, really?" I take a drag and pass the cigarette back
to him, mumbling, "Yeah, it was no big deal, Rob. This guy, Mike-somebody,
said some rude things about me and Chub, some of which I took offense." He
asks, "Mike? Was it Mike Gross?" I shrug and Danny, back out to get more
glasses and a bowl with a few disgusting looking cheese-soaked nachos stuck
to the side, says, "Yeah, Rob, it was that asshole, Mike Gross. He was a
bully in high school and he still is." Rob mumbles, "Damn, I wish I was
there. I'd love to knock out a couple of his teeth. I gotta admit though he
was a hell of a pitcher." Danny nods his head, and then asks, "You want a
beer, Dylan," I go, "Yeah, thanks, Danny," and he carries the bowl and two
beer bottles inside. Rob points at my shirt, "Look, your shirt's ripped
where a button was torn loose." I shrug at that although I'm actually
pissed-off because I liked this damn shirt.

Flicking my fingers at the rip in my shirt, I mutter, "My own fault. I
should have changed clothes after brunch." He goes, "Oh, you had brunch,
huh? That explains your dressy clothes. I didn't think you got dressed-up
to see me." I grin 'cause he looks good enough to eat. He goes, "Tell me
something, did Danny help you out with more than just the fight?" I go, "Do
you really want me to spell it out for you?" He shakes his head, "No, that
tells me all I need to know and I'm glad. Hell, I suggested it." I go,
"That was nice of you, Rob," and he says, "Honestly, I got to feeling bad
that I couldn't be with you like that, and even though I know Dodger and
you got, um, reacquainted on Tuesday, you and I are used to regular, you
know, sexual outlets. So, I thought Danny and you could sort of help each
other out. He's missing his boyfriend too. Ironic, huh?" Robby looks
exhausted but I don't mention it. Poor guy isn't recovering very quickly.

I take the cigarette from him and after exhaling, mutter, "That was
actually a pretty fucking magnanimous suggestion of yours and about me and
Danny." He shrugs, saying, "You and Danny becoming better friends is a good
thing too. I'm really hoping we can all be close friends. The four of us,
including Hayden, who I'm not crazy about but Danny's stuck on him so I
guess he must be okay." I say, "Actually, Danny and I have never had a
problem with one another." He nods, "Yeah but, ya know, you've never been
real friends either. I'm hoping the four of us can start doing things
together, and I don't mean," and he leans close to me lowering his voice,
although we're the only two out here, "I don't mean sexual things. I mean
the four of us doing guy stuff together and be a tight group go
friends. We're," and he lowers his voice again, "Gay friends and we should
be tight and stick together. Maybe become life-long friends." Nice
sentiment I guess. I say, "You okay, Rob? You look really tired." He says,
"I am really tired but Goddammit I should be better by now."

Danny comes out the back door with a beer for me and one for himself,
asking, "What are you two whispering about?" Glancing at the back door, Rob
quietly says, "Just talking about how us gay guys need to stick together."
Danny puts an arm across Rob's shoulders again and squeezes him so tightly
Rob's left foot goes up on my toes. Grinning at me, Danny says to Rob, "I
think Dylan and I are bonding very nicely. Right, Dylan?" I say, "Yeah, we
are," and he lets go of Rob's shoulders. Rob grins at Danny, and says,
"Yeah, well that's cool, but don't you two, um, over-bond, if you know what
I mean." We all snicker as Danny mumbles, "No over-bonding. Got it, Rob."

Actually I do sense a new closeness among the three of us, especially me
and Danny and I like it... it feels nice. Danny and I spending time
together while visiting Rob is allowing us to know each other, certainly
much better than we did before. I also think I know what Rob means about
being with gays guys and how it's got a different vibe to it. Our
'straight' friends are great too, just different. Certainly, we talk about
different things when we're with 'straight' friends even when they know
we're gay. It's a small point and not worth bringing up, the idea of us
becoming good friends I think was originally Danny's.

We talk more about the so-called fight, the skirmish as Rob calls it, and
then we talk about the half-court game we played and how Coach Rush still
has some moves on the basketball court even though he's gotta be in his
late thirties or early forties. Rob goes, "Oh man, I can't wait to be a
hundred percent again so I can get in the game too." I'm pretty sure he
means both 'games', although he's sort of been in the 'gay game' if I'm
right about Danny fucking Rob earlier today. That had to be a wet cum spot
on the back of Rob's shorts.

Danny talks again about the openings on the summer baseball team and they
talk about Rob playing on the team this summer and how I should try-out
too. They both think it'd be awesome if all four of us could be on the same
team. I don't want to be the wet blanket here so I don't protest although I
saw some of those games late last summer and I'm simply not good enough to
make the team. Plus, I don't see how the hell Rob expects to play baseball
in his condition.

Dodger and Mr. Dickers are back from their motorcycle ride coming through
the backyard gate laughing about something. Jesus, I think this is the
first time I've seen Mr. Dickers laugh that hard, or laugh at all. It looks
like Dodgers winning them all over and I'm happy about that. Dodgers' very
casual and low key about everything and appears as comfortable as it's
possible to be, so good for all of them.

The grill gets fired-up and we all drink some more beers and then
Mrs. Dickers brings out various side-dishes and sets them up for
self-service on a side table while Mr. Dickers cooks the ribs. The sweet
and spicy barbecue sauce he makes from scratch, but then doesn't brush it
on the ribs until just before serving because the sugar in the barbecue
sauce would burn black on the grill. A little grilling tip there. When
everything is said and done we don't sit down to eat until after seven
o'clock, more than an hours later than anticipated, but everyone's in a
good mood. The six of us just fit around the outside table eating, talking,
and drinking our drinks with some laughter thrown in for good measure.

Maybe it's because Dodger is so casually comfortable tonight, but I can't
remember ever feeling this comfortable myself with Rob's parents, but then
I don't believe they've ever been this sociable before, especially
Mr. Dickers. Of course, both parents are fairly well hammered from the
numerous gin and tonics they've both had all afternoon, so that's a factor
I suppose. Mostly though I think much of the convivial mood is compliments
of Dodger who has managed to smooth things over without anyone needing to
say they're sorry even though both sides have legitimate reasons for saying
they're sorry. I will say there are topics noticeably absent from the
conversation. No mention of the singular 'son' being part of the company's
name, Dickers and Son Inc. Also no apartment or Army talk. And no talks
about how fast Dodger's spending his winnings. Somehow everyone knows
intuitively not to bring up those topics.

The current summer baseball league is again the topic of conversation,
mostly about Rob's possible participation. Mr. Dickers, of all people, is
saying there shouldn't be any reason Rob couldn't be on the team when he's
fully healed. He tells us that everyone in Westborough is satisfied with
Rob's replacement there and I think he's sincere when Mr. Dickers claims
he's sorry Rob's disappointed he won't be able to participate. His Dad
adds, "Rob, that young man, Neal Trenton, has impressed me and Art
Kyle. You know Art is heading-up that project, right?" Rob mutters, "Yeah,
I know Art, but that intern, Neal, is a suck-up, Dad." His father goes,
"Yes, I see some of that, sure. Art's insisting he needs the guy full time
though and he's asked me to assign Neal there for the whole summer. Just so
you know, Art sees the job as basically a gofer-job, Rob." Rob shrugs and
his Dad goes, "But listen, they'll be plenty of big projects, better
projects than that one, that you'll be involved with in the future. For
this summer though, join the baseball team and enjoy your last college
summer, Son." Rob mumbles, "I really wanted that Goddamn job although I
didn't know it'd be mostly 'gofer' work. Do you mean Neal won't be working
back in our office at all?" His Dad nods, "It wasn't expected to be like
that, but it's Art's call so, yeah, Neal's strictly working in Westborough
for the entire summer." Rob glances at me and then back at his Dad, saying,
"Well, I wouldn't want to be in Westborough all fuc... all friggin'
summer!"

I'm thinking this work topic is becoming tedious and Danny apparently
thinks so too because as soon as there's a pause in that conversation,
Danny jumps-in with, "Rob, you're basically on the team already. I talked
to the summer league coach and he recognized your name of course. He said,
'Bring him around!' meaning I should bring you to tomorrow's practice." Rob
mumbles, "I don't see how I could show up tomorrow!" Danny goes, "Whenever,
you don't even need to try-out is what I'm saying. With Hayden, that's
another story. He'll need to try-out." Rob just nods his head, apparently
still disappointed the Westborough job turned-out like it did. I think he
was enamored by the idea of going on business trips every other week,
staying in hotels and having an expense account. Hell, I'd like that too.

It's quiet for a few seconds before Dodger, who has had nothing to say
about the Westborough project one way or the other, changes the subject
again with, "Well guys, I made my last big purchase today."  Mrs. Dickers,
whose been unusually quiet too, wipes the edge of her mouth with a napkin,
asking, "Oh, what'd you buy now?" He goes, "A car. The motorcycle is fine
during the summer but I need a car too. I bought a Mini Cooper at the
Boston dealership today. Well, I put a down payment to hold it. Tomorrow I
make the final purchase with a bank draft of the exact amount." Everyone
has a comment about that but they're all encouraging and congratulatory in
nature, not negative. I'll bet dollars to donuts both his parents are
biting their tongues to keep from asking if Dodger has anything from the
hundred-thousand left.Of course, they don't know Dodger has another
two-hundred-thousand in the bank.


So, Dodger and Vinnie were in Boston buying the car today, and probably
doing other things there as well, which explains why we didn't see Dodger
until later this afternoon. I'm getting antsy to head for home. I only had
four beers all evening and I didn't finish two of them before they got warm
and I poured out the warm beer, so I'm in good shape. It's a work day
tomorrow so I say my goodbyes around nine-thirty and then drive the pickup
home. I'll be back tomorrow morning to get Robby at seven-thirty. He wanted
me to be here at seven and I was thinking it should be closer to eight. We
compromised on seven-thirty. When I take the bus to work I don't even leave
the house until eight o'clock, but Rob likes to be in the office early.

Parking at the curb below our condo I'm feeling good. I liked almost
everything about today. Sure, it started off shaky with a hangover at
Dodger's place but my day turned around quickly after I got a couple of
extra hours sleep at home. From there everything kept getting better and
better from the brunch with Chubby and our family to my visit with Rob even
though he had that cum-spot on the back of his shorts, and then I really
liked sex with Danny even though it was quite different from what I
expected, and finally the way everyone was intent on getting along at the
Dickers' dinner tonight. Good food and, surprisingly, almost a stress-free
time even with Mr. and Mrs. Dickers there.

Inside my condo I'm like, 'Oh, what's this? Hmmm, a note from my Mom?' She
writes that I shouldn't expect her home tonight and that she loves
me. Jesus, what a tramp she's turning into... ha ha. Not! I'm very happy
she's happy and I'm very fond of Thomas Rider too. He's an almost perfect
fiancé for Mom and it's good that they like to spend their nights
together occasionally. I don't want to think too specifically about that
obviously, but it is the natural order of things. My Mom and Chub's Mom
have always been happy, upbeat women with positive-attitudes, but truly
this past year they've both been happier than ever before. Ain't love
grand!

In my bathroom brushing my teeth, wearing only my jockey shorts, I'm
thinking about that sex with Danny. I'd forgotten all about my sore ass
because somewhere along the way it lost its soreness. But what if it
hadn't? That could have complicated things. I mean if I was going, 'Ow, ow'
when we were just starting, how would I explain my sore, over-fucked ass to
Danny? Heh heh, especially since he thinks I'm inexperience with
side-sex. Robby knows better of course, but obviously he has never advised
Danny of that.

My rectum was fine although Danny's and my sexual experience had some
surprises for me. Mainly I was surprised that Danny's apparently not all
that experienced with side-sex. And what unusual side-sex it was too!
Jesus, Danny does side-sex, at least with me, closer to lover's sex than
buddy-sex. Maybe that's the only way he has sex with anybody, in which case
whoever he has side-sex with is going to think Danny's much fonder of them
than he probably is. Or maybe he actually is that fond of me. See, this is
why I need to get Hayden into a discussion about his sex with Danny.

Here's another thing. If Danny does sex with Hayden like he did it with me,
well that might be the reason Hayden thinks he's in love with Danny. Yeah
but Hayden already told me he doesn't think that's how Danny feels about
him. He surmises that if Danny's in love with anyone, it's probably with
Rob. So ya see, the four of us could have ourselves a very complicated
relationship should we becoming the close friends who do a lot of things
together like Rob and Danny envision. And then there's my current hot
infatuation for Hayden. Still, being a close-knit-foursome is intriguing
and I'm liking the idea of us being closer buddies. So, Danny was right
when he claimed Rob's appendectomy had a silver lining, although it may
have created a bit of a tinderbox situation too with all the possible
side-sex that could happen.

Rinsing my mouth out, I stop everything to listen because I think I heard
something in the condo. The front door locks on its own, so hmmm? I walk
into my bedroom and then hear my cellphone ringing in the kitchen. Oh,
maybe that's what I heard. I left it on the kitchen bar when I first came
in. I get to it before it goes to voicemail and see the caller ID: Dodger
Dickers. Huh, my hand goes to my ass on its own for a second, and then I'm
like, "Hello, Dodger?" He goes, "Hey Dylan. Did you think someone borrowed
my cellphone?" I go, "Why do you say that?" and he chuckles, "Because you
definitely included a question mark while saying my name." I go, "Oh, I
guess I'm surprised you're calling." He's like, "Is your Mom home?" I go,
"Um, well no, she isn't. She's staying the night with a friend. Um, why?"
He chuckles, "Oh, no reason. Can I come over?" Oh boy! I take a deep breath
and say, "Of course," and he asks, "Do you feel like screwing around?"
Okay! Now wait a second! This is the perfect time for me to get on top of
things by saying something like, 'Damn, I'm beat tonight, Dodger. Can I
take a rain check?' That way I'd establish that it's not automatic that
every time Dodger feels like it that I'll go along with him. Put some
mystery in it for him. I go, "Well yeah, c'mon over." He goes, "Ha ha, I'm
parked at the curb. I'll be right up." Huh, he knew I'd say 'yes' and I
think what I primarily heard in the bathroom was his motorcycle's mufflers
roaring, not the ringing cellphone.

Oh jeez, now I'm jittery for some reason. Then I look down and realize I'm
only wearing underpants. He'll think I took off my clothes in anticipation
of his visit! Goddammit, why does shit like this always happen to me. And
there's the knock on the door already! Oh fuck, too late. I open the door,
saying, "I was like this when you called, Dodger. I didn't take off my..."
He has an armload of clothes as he smiles putting a finger to my lips,
saying, "Ya wanna do our regular sex routine?" Well basically it's his sex
routine but I nod my head too fast and we walk to the bedroom where I pull
my underpants off and lay my chest on the bed with my ass sticking up to be
spanked. Okay, I admit I love this shit! Dodger drops the arm-load of
clothes he carried in with him on the desk chair, clothes he borrowed from
me last Tuesday. They're all washed and folded. He says, "Thank you for
letting me borrow these clothes, Dylan."

Fuck, my heart's beating fast and my dick feels funny. This is so different
from Danny and me this afternoon. Dodger gets undressed, saying, "The
entire time we were all sitting around the table in the back yard I was
thinking that maybe you and me could do this tonight. I waited ten minutes
after you left before leaving, plus Danny was leaving then too, so it's
cool," and "SMACK!" on my ass and I look back and see he's naked, and
there's that fire-hydrant fat cock of his. He grins and says, "That'll do
for tonight's spanking. I don't understand the allure you have with being
spanked." I rub my ass standing up, saying, "It's a mystery to me
too. Maybe it was programmed into my brain when I was first introduced to
gay sex."

Dodger, standing behind me, puts his arms around me pulling my back against
his chest. My buttocks bang against his genitals as he's saying, "Yeah, how
did your first gay sex happen? I don't recall you ever telling me." I go,
"Oh it was weird. I'll tell you sometime, but not now." He turns me around
and I drop to my knees anxious to suck his cock. Dodger smells really
clean, like he showered just before going over to his parent's
place. Taking his flaccid cock in my fingers, I ask him, "Don't you get
turned-on at all by spanking your submissive sex partners?" He says, "Not
even a little bit. Like I told you, I don't fucking understand it." I
mutter, "Me neither," and then, after pushing back the foreskin it's,
"Slurp, slurp, slurp," sounds from me as I suck the fat head of his cock.

Ironically Dodger's foreskin is longer than most I've seen while his penis
is not. Although it has a lot of girth to it, his dick is under the average
length at slightly over four-inches. Foreskin, for guys who don't have much
of one, is a retractable sheath. A doubled-layered fold made up of smooth
muscle tissue, blood vessels, neurons, skin, and mucous membranes. The
outside of the foreskin is simply a continuation of penis skin while the
underside is a mucous membrane much like the underside of an eyelid. If a
guy doesn't have much foreskin it's because his parents for religious or
other reasons had it removed. The other reasons usual consists of a parent
figuring: Everyone has it done, right? No, not right. Circumcision is an
ancient practice that has religious origins that's now too often done
routinely in America from ignorance. That's a shame too because the
foreskin makes a nice hood for the head of a penis. There are some possible
problems associated with foreskin but mostly they can be avoided by simply
pulling it back and rinsing it with warm water in the shower. I find it's
fun to have a friend help me with that. If you neglect washing under the
foreskin something called smegma may develop. Dodger doesn't have that,
that smegma stuff. His foreskin is clean and healthy looking.

After sucking the head of his cock for a minute I pull the foreskin back
over the head and stroke his cock by pulling the foreskin
over-and-off-the-head, back and forth with the mucous membrane on the inner
side making for a smooth trip both ways. The foreskin also makes
penetration easier and provides a gliding action for thrusting. I prefer
uncircumcised guys for anal sex although I make do with the others as
well. Uncircumcised cock heads usually have a darker red color and are
shiny with mucosa. Circumcised Caucasian's penis heads are pale pink with
like a matte finish. They're okay but, ya know, if I have my
choice... Also, there are between 20,000 and 70,000 nerve ending in the
foreskin depending on which study you choose to believe. They add pleasure
to the 'top' but none for me when I 'bottom' so mostly I don't care about
those nerve endings unless I'm the 'top'.

Still stoking his hardening penis, I put some of it back in my warm mouth
to lick and suck on it. I hear some breathy breathing so I assume Dodger's
enjoying me stimulating his dick with my mouth and hand, and I like doing
it quite a bit as well. My dick's getting hard almost as quickly as his. A
louder grunt from Dodger now as he pulls my hair to move my head back while
he's pulling his cock out of my mouth. A saliva/pre-cum string connects my
mouth and the head of his cock so I wipe it away with my hand before it can
drift down wetly across my chin and onto my neck. Dodger takes a deep
breath and then mutters, "A little more," stepping forward again. I guide
his boned-up-cock back into my mouth and push my head forward forcing the
head into my throat, bulging it out under my chin. Bobbing on and off the
head a number of times gets Dodger stepping back and again pulling his
boner from my mouth. This time there's a thicker string of his precut and
saliva. I wipe that away too as Dodger nods to the bed.

Quick as a cat I'm on my knees on the mattress with my face on the pillow
and my ass sticking way up for him. I get aroused sucking cock but I also
get turned-on during sex by being the submissive partner. It was submissive
of me to immediately get in this 'bottom' position Dodger's been insisting
on. I'm like a trained seal in that regard awaiting my treat. Yep, that's
the submissiveness in me, and I'm like that without Dodger needing to be
any more dominant than the inherent dominance involved in being the
'top'. A 'top' has inferred dominance in my mind. How could it not? I'm a
willing submissive partner during sex so I help along the submissive sense
in my head in order to further my pleasure. Dodger doesn't do classic
sub/dom sex and he never has, although sex has to be done his way. At least
when he and I do it and that goes back to our first time together. I was
seventeen and Dodger fifteen as he stalked me in the pool and then pulled
my swimsuit down with me fighting him off until he got his boner up my
ass. From then on, I was docile for him while he fucked me hard. Awesome!
That was absolutely fantastic sex in the swimming pool.

Dodger gets up behind me on the bed and rubs my ass, murmuring, "Ready for
this, Dylan?" I look back at him, the side of my face on the pillow, as I
murmur, "Uh huh," and he gives my ass a mighty smack, "SMACK!" mumbling,
"Me too." Even though I know what to expect, his first two hard thrust up
my ass cause pain and so do the three withdrawals and hard follow-up
thrusts. Pain yes, but my rectum is becoming adjusted to this and the nerve
endings soon turn to pleasure... and then it's hard fast, "Slapslapslap,"
sounds in the bedroom as his hard, fat cock slides very tightly back and
forth in my rectum with his groin slapping against my butt cheeks creating
the music of anal sex!

The thrusting stimulates as many, if not more, nerve endings in my rectum
than he has in his own thrusting hard fat cock. It's a breath-taking
experience that usually lasts less than five-minutes, the majority of that
time without even a memory of the earlier pain... and then the climax. I
felt Dodger's hard steam of cum splash off my inners first, while my climax
waited until he was thrusting in my cum-filled ass another thirty seconds
and then my squeal with sensations bursting all over me, an intense
explosion all around my pelvic region. Just an overwhelmingly satisfying
sexual experience as pleasure sours around my body. And then it's over.

Hmmm, the newness is wearing off some so the thrill has lessened
noticeably. Still awesome, but not as awesome as the first few times we did
it this way and as crazy a thought as this may be: I think I'm tired of
doing side-sex. I need lover's sex with Robby. Side-sex is seeming more and
more like just going through the motions. Fuck, I can hardly believe I'm
thinking like this.

Dodger's pulled his dick out of my ass and is standing next to me as I
slowly push my legs out and lie flat on the bed in my own cum. He puts his
hand on my back and rubs up and down my spine, asking, "Dylan, do you think
it's time for us to try a new position?" How perceptive! I turn my head to
look at him and avoid the question by saying, "I'm lying in my own cum
again." He snickers, "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm thinking I've worn-out
the novelty of fucking this way. Whaddaya think?" I go, "Yeah, I guess, but
I get a submissive sense automatically getting in the position you want."
Shaking his head slowly, he goes, "I don't understand how you are
submissive when I'm not dominant?"

Pushing myself up off the mattress and then sitting on the edge of my bed,
I mutter, "You're dominant, and you know it." He sits next to me, asking,
"Is my brother dominant?" I mumble, "That's for Rob and me to know." He
pats my shoulder, "You're right. My bad for snooping. Hey, I wanted to see
you tonight, um, alone. I'm sorry to tell you I'm flying out tomorrow
afternoon." I look at him, "To California?" He nods, "Yep, Josh needs my
help with something so I'll be going sooner than I expected or wanted to
go. Maybe for two weeks." I go, "Oh shit. I'm just getting used to having
you around again, and now you're off already." He shrugs, "Not ideal for me
either, and I can say the same about getting reacquainted with you too, but
I'm hoping it won't be longer than two weeks." I'm dying to know what kind
of help Josh needs but if Dodger wants me to know he'll tell me. I'm not
big on interrogating people.

This is fortuitous news though because it's probably a damn a good thing to
take a pause from this frequent sex. While Rob's on the mend I've been
overdoing it with Dodger and it's beginning to bring on some guilty
feelings. I mean especially since Rob's been so generous in getting Danny
and me together while he recovers. I can't think of anything to say to
Dodger though, so I rub his head, asking, "Ya want a free haircut?" He
gives me his great smile, "Oh man! Do you remember those haircut with
Vinnie and me together?" I go, "Of course I do. And you two taking turns
having your way with me." We laugh and then he says, "When I get back, for
old times' sake, you gotta do haircuts for Vinnie and me together. We'll
use the way-back machine if we need to." I frown, "The what?" and he goes,
"It's an old cartoon." I'm shaking my head, and he goes, "The time machine
in Peabody's Improbable History." I go, "I missed that one, dude." He
shrugs, "Yeah, it's from the sixties but all the episodes are on YouTube
now. Corny and primitive drawings but kinda funny too. An Army buddy turned
Connor and me onto the show." I mutter, "Yeah, maybe I'll check it out."

Dodger goes, "Anyway, I wanted to ask if you'd do me a favor and check my
apartment a couple times a week. See if there are any deliveries on my
front stoop." I go, "Sure. So you're expecting more deliveries?" He goes,
"Yes, but smaller items that the postal guy will leave on my front step on
in my mailbox. When I ordered them, I didn't expect to be going away this
soon. Here's the key to the front door. I trust you more than anyone else I
know." Taking the key, I mumble, "You can depend on me, Dodger." Again,
curiously I'd like to know what's in these packages but I don't pry.

He stands and asks, "Hey, for the hell of it, do you wanna have a prostate
orgasm?" I go, "I don't know what that is. Does it have anything to do with
the way-back machine?" He laughs, "Nooo! It's a watery climax of juices
from your prostate. You know, when it's too soon for the rest of your sperm
to form. The G-spot is an awesomely super-sensitive little invention of
Nature. It stores seminal fluid for a gooey climax filled with your sperm
guys trying to mate with a female's egg." I go, "For chrissakes, Dodger, I
know what the fucking prostate gland is." He shrugs, "Of course for your
guys to impregnate an egg you need to be having sex with a female" I go,
"Yeah, Dodger, I was there the day that was covered in Middle School health
class." He laughs and goes, "Didn't you love how awkward health class was
in middle school with Sally Q sitting next to you?" I go, "Mostly I was
staring at Johnny Q's lap and not knowing why I was doing that." He laughs,
"Anyway, I could give you a prostate orgasm right now by rubbing your
prostate with my finger, although for me it'd be more fun doing that with
my dick." I immediately think of Marietta and Timmy's two-inch cock. That's
the second time I thought of Tim today."

I ask, "Have your sperm guys ever tried impregnating a female's egg?" He's
like, "If you're asking have I had sex with the opposite sex, the answer is
yes. Numerous times actually and it feels good too although I much prefer
doing it with someone like you. Well, there is no one like you. What I'm
saying is, generally speaking I prefer anal sex with guys." Huh, why should
I be surprised he's bisexual? For some reason I am though, and knowing he's
done it with girls disappoints me and I'm not sure why. He says, "Lean over
with your hands on the bed." I'm tired of side-sex, so I try out the word
'no'. Looking at him, I say, "Um, no thanks, I'm not feeling it,
Dodger. Anyway, I've had my nuts milked a number of times by someone
rubbing my prostate. It feels good but I'll pass this time." He goes, "No
problem. How 'bout I spend the night though and I'll get you off to a good
start tomorrow morning? You know, as a thank you for checking my mail and
for all the other help you've given me." Shaking my head, I mumble, "Not
tonight, but thanks anyway." He shrugs, "Well then, I'll see you when I get
back." I'm like, "I'll look forward to it, Dodger."

As he gets dressed, I feel kinda bad refusing him so I mumble, "I'm glad
you called tonight." He grins, "Oh, hell Dylan, me too. The pleasure has
been all mine." Huh, saying 'no' to Dodger was easy and, interestingly, he
didn't appear to be the least bit upset or disappointed. While tying his
sneakers, he goes, "Would you be so kind as to shoot me a text when a
package arrives at my apartment? I'd appreciate it." Nodding, I mutter,
"Sure, no problem." I've got my underwear back on, just standing here and
still marveling at how easy it was to say 'no'. I should really do that
more often. Dodger's ready to go, so to say something, I mumble, "No sense
in me getting dressed since I'm just gonna take a shower and then get to
bed." He smiles, "Good plan, buddy." I walk him to the front door, and say,
"Hope everything goes okay in California." He grins, "Yeah, me too," and
then he gives me a hug, "See you in a couple of weeks, Dylan, and thanks
again for everything." No kiss, just the quick hug and he's out the door.

I feel odd somehow, and then say out loud to the empty apartment, "What I
really want, what I really need, is for Rob to be one-hundred-percent put
back together!" Yeah, I want everything to be back to normal. At the front
window, I watch Dodger going down the steps. It's been a whirlwind of
activities with him, and Hayden, and Danny too these last ten days and
frankly it's been kind of exhausting too. Ya know, without Robby to balance
it all out it just doesn't feel right. Damn though, that's a new thought
for me to have!

In the shower, I try figuring out why I rejected Dodger's offer to spend
the night. The other times we slept together I got off to an awesome start
in the morning and felt invigorated all day, so why not tonight and
tomorrow morning? Maybe it was hearing that Dodger's screws girls. Yeah
well, that did put me off a little but then Tracy, of speakeasy fame, goes
both ways too and that never put me off with him. When I get right down to
it though they're both just side-sex buddies of mine. Maybe I'd like to
think Dodger is more special than that, and he is in a way, but in the end,
I'm just a sex-buddy to him too. We're guys doing buddy-sex together and
except for the fact I've known Dodger longer than any other side-sex buddy
of mine it still doesn't change what we are... sex buddies. All Dodgers
innuendos that he's going to take me from Robby and that he and I are
destined to be a couple was most likely just Dodger being in competition
with his brother. It's me who tried to make it out to be more than it was.

Out of the shower drying myself I'm fixated on the matter of zero affection
from Dodger. No, that's not entirely correct because I did feel a sincere
friendship affection from him even though he isn't demonstrative about
it. Yeah, that fits because as I've said many times... there's rarely true
affection during buddy-sex. Hell, Dodger's shown me basically the same
friendship affection for as long as I've known him. It never went beyond
that though. Sure, he talks a good game but talk is all it's ever amounted
to. Bottom line: I don't know exactly what the reason was for me saying
'no' tonight, but I guess I'm glad I said it. Putting on pajamas I go to
get in bed and stop because I don't feel like sleeping in wet cum
tonight. I strip the bed and then make it up with clean crisp sheets. It's
like I'm getting a fresh start to, um, to everything. Getting under the
covers I fall right to sleep.

Monday morning I'm feeling okay, I think. The last ten-days or so have been
complicated, wild, unpredictable and consequently I now need normalcy and
that starts and ends with Robby. That'll begins today when I pick him up
for work. I want him to be his old self as soon as possible. I yearn for
Rob being well and driving his own truck and me back taking the bus to
work. I'll tease my bus-buddy, Ryan, a little, and get back on schedule
with everything. Without Robby being my anchor, my soul mate and lover, all
the rest seems like a senseless orgy of self-gratification without any
other purpose. Or sometime akin to that. Robby and I making love together
renders the rest, the side-sex for both not us, irrelevant and therefore
guilt-free sexy fun.

After getting dressed and eating a nourishing breakfast of orange juice,
coffee, and two bowls of Froot Loops in milk I'm anxious to see Rob. I make
my lunch, check that I have what I need in my backpack, re-comb my hair and
straighten my tie and now I'm ready to go. It's only seven-ten but Rob
likes to get to work early. The drive through the center of Framingham is
easier this early in the morning so maybe I should get in the habit of
getting to work earlier, like Rob. Maybe I should do a like lot of things
like Rob.

At Rob's, idling in the driveway, I can't decide if I should blow the horn
or knock on the door and then Rob comes out the backdoor so I don't need to
do either. He gets in the passenger seat smiling, "Good morning, Dylan,"
and then gives my shoulder a squeeze. I go, "Good morning. How you feeling,
Robby?" and then unhook my seatbelt and slide over to tightly hug
him. Fuck, I feel like I might cry. He kisses the side of my head,
murmuring, "Ow, my side is still tender, babe." After all this time? I
start to pull away but he tightens his arms around me, "No, this is nice,"
and another kiss on the side of my head as I mumble, "I've really missed
you, Robby." He lets go of me, "Same here, Dylan, although that might be
the understatement to top all understatements ever uttered. It's been a
long ten days." I sit up and, adjusting my tie, say, "Yeah, it has been a
long ten days."

Clicking my seatbelt, feeling embarrassed for overdoing it, I ask, "Are you
feeling okay?" Jesus, I need to get a grip here! As I drive us away, he
goes, "I'm a little shaky actually, but I wouldn't admit that to anyone but
you." He goes on to tell me how unexpected it was that it exhausted him
just getting ready for work. He says, "For a second there I began doubting
myself about being ready to face the world again. And it was only a minor
operation and it happened ten-fucking-days-ago, but I'm still not
myself. I'm a wimp I guess." I say, "Nonsense! Any cutting and removal of
something inside your body is a big deal. Um, tissue and nerve endings are
super traumatized so you needed to rest. And then after spending a lot of
time in bed you need time to get used to being up and around again. And,
yeah, remember! Those stitches came out setting you back." His hand goes to
his side as he mutters, "Yeah the stitches came loose."

A minute later, he grins at me, muttering, "Thank you, Dr. Newman. You make
good excuses for me," and I go, "I'm serious!" He says, "You're sweet to
make excuses for me but according to testimonies online about recovery from
my type of appendectomy I should be doing a lot better; a hell of a lot
better by now. I don't think I pushed it enough in the early going." I
mumble, "Your body was cut open." He goes, "Yeah, but just a little."

To be honest though, I found myself sort of thinking along the same lines
as Rob. I too kinda expected he'd recover sooner, but to be supportive I
mumble, "Well, like I said, you had the stitches pulled out that time you
were doing sit-ups and maybe it was like starting over." He laughs, "No,
Dylan, I wasn't doing sit-ups! Mom said that. I merely sat up in bed one
time." I look at him, grinning and muttering, "Lucky we're not working the
lawn cutting crew, huh?" He nods, "Heh heh, yeah, I'd probably need help
carrying that bad-ass ride-on mower off the truck." I chuckle because we
never carried it off the truck, we drove it off. Anyway, I just wanted to
make him feel better and now I guess enough is enough. We switch topics to
one every-fucking-body talks about... commenting on the weather. We both
agree it's nice June day and we also agree to text each other around lunch
time to maybe have lunch together. The last thing we agree on is if he
should need to leave work early for whatever reason I'll drive him.

Truth is though I don't really expect Rob to leave work early because of
his conscientiousness. He still doesn't look himself though. He's lost some
weight and he still looks pale and frail to me.  I let him off at the front
door and then watch him walk in the main entrance. A part of me hopes he
needs my help, but that would embarrass Rob so I'm glad he doesn't need
help going through the front doors. After parking the pickup, I walk around
to the back picnic area for a smoke. It's only seven-thirty so I'm the only
person back here. Wandering toward the picnic table near the dumpster I
think about how it makes me feel good having Rob back at work. It's just
nice knowing he's here. Finally, a first step back to normalcy.

Last night saying 'no' to any further side-sex with Dodger isn't a
reflection on him specifically. I'm not interested in having it with
anybody. At least not until Robby and I have some serious lover's sex
together. I need that affirmation of our love before anymore side-sex will
interest me. I'm thinking Rob's and my lover's sex is ironically what makes
the rest possible. That's a new revelation to me but I believe it's a
fact. Robby and I have been each other's, um, foundation... we're best
friends who are destined to be life-long lovers. I know that to be true but
I need the physical proof of it before anything else will interest me. It's
weird finding that out about myself at this late date but I'm glad I
did. It was never going to be anyone else but Robby and me. The rare times
I've speculated a possibility of me being with someone else, whether it was
Ryan or Willie or Dodger or anyone, I've always quickly realized that was
frivolous thinking. It's scary to think of my life without Robby being
right where he is; the center of my present and future.

Rob and I will undoubtedly further cement our place in each other's heart
with lover's sex, hopefully tonight, and then I'll feel safe and secure
enough to allow other parts of life to intrude. So yeah, without the
stability and seriousness of Robby's and my love affair I'd simply be a
loose cannon having meaningless sex without direction. With Robby as my
true lover the rest becomes merely recreational side-sex that's harmless
and temporary. Jesus, it's a revelation to know my love for Robby allows me
to do my side-sex without feeling I'm wasting my life away. Without him
that's what it's beginning to feel like. When the time is right Rob and I
will shut out the rest, and live our lives monogamously. That thought used
to give me pause but now it doesn't scare me in the least. The possibility
we wouldn't eventually be monogamous is what would scare me.

Sitting at the picnic table thinking these thoughts I notice two women
lighting cigarettes outside the back door. They both hold their cigarette
in that funny way women do it. They hold the cigarette at the tip of their
forefinger and middle finger while their elbow is against their side. Their
hand and wrist are limply held away from their body after each drag. Ha, I
saw Hayden smoke like that once! Yeah, Hayden. What am I going to do about
Hayden? Maybe nothing because I'm not exactly chomping at the bit waiting
for his return from California. The kind of nuclear heat we generated in
one another has a short shelf life, or at least it has in the past. Of
course, a short shelf live might mean this entire summer, which could be
problematic although presently I'm not feeling any inclination to have sex
with him at all.

Stepping on my cigarette butt, I get up and walk slowly toward the back
door where the two women have gone inside leaving half smoked cigarette
butts smoldering on the ground. Both butts have a lipstick ring on the
filters. Christ, imagine having gooey lipstick on all day, every day!
Ghastly! Considering the cost of cigarettes those two women should have
shared one if they only wanted half a cigarette. I don't think women share
cigarettes though. Okay, so I'll start work almost an hour early for the
first time and see how that goes. Be more like Rob... that's my latest
motto.

After dropping my backpack off in my, um, office, I put my lunch in the
Accounting Department's refrigerator and then get my own coffee this
morning because Eileen isn't here yet. Huh, the donuts aren't here yet
either. So far, I don't see much benefit starting work early. Hell, my boss
probably hasn't rolled out of bed yet.

In the meeting room that serves as my office I'm determined to do something
worthwhile so I get out my computer list and begin summarizing the first
few weeks' results on a yellow paper-tablet. A recap for Carl with a
projected completion date of the Accounting Department. I highlight
individuals I've interviewed, ones who were out of the ordinary, by putting
a number next to their names. At the bottom of the summary I jot down a
quick note next to each number explaining why I highlighted these
employees. When done that I readjust the format so it's more professional
looking and then type it into the computer so I can print it out. Nice!

That took forty-five minutes so, feeling very pleased with myself, I go for
another cup of coffee. Everyone in Accounting is working at
eight-forty-five of course so I again get my own coffee. I can't help but
smile at Eileen, who beams, and then I pick up the last glazed donut left
in the box. The Accounting Supervisor, whose name I've forgotten, makes eye
contact so I walk over, saying, "If it's okay with you we can start the
interviews in fifteen minutes. One right after the other this morning." She
says, "Do you think you'll finish up this week?" I nod, "Yes, by
Wednesday. That's my plan." As I'm walking back to my office I'm
remembering erroneously telling Mr. Dickers I was one-third of the way
through the Accounting department. He seemed fine with while what I meant
to say is that I have a third of the Accounting employees still to
do. After doing this summary I see I'm actually closer to three-quarters of
the way through. Mr. Dickers seemed pleased with whatever percentage I
mentioned, but then he's got other things on his mind, and being crude, he
doesn't know jack-shit about this project.

I get back to the small meeting room at the same time Carl gets there. He
seems frazzled, but mostly I'm surprised to see him in any condition this
early. Since my first day working here this is at least ten minutes earlier
than Carl has ever showed-up for work. And then, uncharacteristically, he
sternly asks, "Where's your suit coat, Dylan?" Taken aback by his
aggressiveness I smile uncertainly while pointing to where my sport coat is
hanging on the back of my chair. It's incongruous he should mention a suit
coat to me when he's wearing a short sleeve patterned sport shirt that
should never be worn with a tie and yet he has on a thin maroon knit tie
that clashes so much with the multicolored shirt it's like a blinking neon
sign. This is the first tie I've seen Carl wear. I ask, "Why so dressed-up
today, Carl?" He says, "It just so happens I have a nine o'clock meeting
with my boss about this benefits re-introduction program that you and I
have been working on." Ha, he means that I've been working on. I go, "Oh,
and how..." but he interjects nodding at my hands that are holding a
Styrofoam cup of coffee and a donut, "And, um, not to be a prick about it,
but coffee break isn't for another hour-and-a-half."

Normally something like his bullshit would piss me off royally, especially
considering I actually started working almost an hour ago. Carl does not
put the fear of God in me however, so I keep the smile and ignore the
coffee break comment, saying, "Actually I've been here since seven-thirty
working on something for you, boss. It should fit right in with your
meeting this morning." He brightens-up, "Oh, I could use a little
something. What have you got?"

Setting the coffee and donut on my desk I hand him the summary report and
his eyes bulge out as he glances over it. He smiles his lopsided smile,
exclaiming, "This is perfect! Just what I need for my monthly report to my
boss." Then he sort of catches himself and takes the enthusiasm down a
couple of notches, saying, "Um, this is a good start, Dylan, and I'll take
it to the meeting but I'll need an update, an entirely re-done report for
the whole month of June." He said that as if this report was his idea and
I've somehow screwed it up a little. Looking at me through those large
thick eyeglasses he wears, he says, "I went to the trouble of summarizing
results for the short month of May myself. I'll expect this month's full
summary done by you and I mean by the middle of next week." He looks at the
report again and taps the top of the page with the back of his fingers,
saying, "Um, you don't need to include this salutation to me though.  I'll,
um, include it as a part of my monthly reporting." In other words, he'll
add a salvation to his boss as if he prepared the report himself. What a
dick!

After checking to make sure he's serious. He looks serious, so I mumble,
"Sure thing, Carl," and hand him my normal Monday report of last weeks list
of employees interviewed. At the door, still looking at the summary report,
he looks up and points to my sport coat, "Put that on, please. I may call
you into the meeting if, um, something doesn't look right to my boss." He
means if his boss asks him a question he can't answer because he hasn't
done jack-shit to help me. I put on the sport coat as he nods his head and
backs out of the room. Then, stepping back in the room, he goes, "Um,
thanks very much, Dylan. This is just what I needed. You did good." He must
have gotten yelled at by his boss and initially passed that vibe on down to
the only person lower on the totem pole than him.  Actually, I feel bad for
Carl and I'm glad that I helped him out.

Then my first interview of the week is here. George Gleason, an
all-business-type slim young man with an attractive smile. His striking
jadeite-jade, pale-green, eyes and medium ash brown hair, that's combed
like mine, gets my juices running this morning. I'm wearing my sport coat
because after all Carl is my boss and, even though it's stupidly
unnecessary, if he wants me to wear it, so be it. These interviews have
become so routine for me by now that my number-one concern is making sure
the interview doesn't come across as routine to the employee. I need to
keep reminding myself before each interview that this is the first time
this person has ever heard the presentation and it should be presented with
enthusiasm as a big deal because it is a big deal. The benefits are much
improved at a lot of company expense and I'm getting paid to impress each
employee with that reality. Hey, it's my job, dude!

I'm probably overly enthusiastic, but I feel good knowing I'm doing what
I'm being paid to do. George is stoic but says 'Thanks' when I'm
finished. He could use a personality transplant, but so could a lot of
people. As noon rolls around there's been no summons from Carl so I assume
his meeting went well. And then as I'm getting ready to have lunch Carl
pokes his head in the door smiling and saying, "We are studs, Dylan! Many
accolades from the bosses on how well the new benefit package is being
received. Don't get a big head but I heard glowing feedback for the job
you're doing. The employees love ya, dude. Great job! Gordon told me that
report I, um, you did summarize perfectly what he needs to know for his
Monday afternoon meeting with the heads of all departments. Just wanted to
share that with you." I'm startled but manage, "Thank you, Carl. I
appreciate it very much that you shared." He says, "Um, if it's
uncomfortable feel free to take the sport coat off." He gone before I can
say, 'Thanks.' I don't know who 'Gordon' is but I'm pleased he found the
summary exactly what he wanted.

Huh, what a fortuitous coincidence though that I put together that summary
list this morning! When I left the house, I had no idea I'd be doing
that. Sure, Carl was not himself when he first saw me this morning but I
found out why; he was nervously unprepared for the meeting with his
boss. Then I had exactly what he needed without him knowing he needed it
until he saw it. He acted like a prick to me at first but in the end, he
reverted back to himself, which is basically a good guy albeit a bit goofy,
and he just thanked me sincerely. That little saga with Carl turned-out
very well and all because Rob likes to get to the office early. Since I
drove him I too had the extra time to do that report. Be like Rob is my new
motto and it's paid off for Carl and me already.

Feeling good, I text Rob about lunch and he text back. 'Babe, Max Renoldie
asked me to have lunch with him. Sorry, but he is letting me share his
office, so....' Well damn! I really wanted to see Rob and share my tale of
the summary report. Okay, maybe I wanted to brag a little too and impress
him. It's odd though that he didn't invite me to join him and that
blowhard, Max. Of course, Rob thinks Max is a loud-mouth-bore so he either
didn't want to subject me to that, on the one hand, or he and Max are
eating with someone else and I'm too low on the organizational chart to
qualify for their high-level power-lunch. Of course, it doesn't need to be
one or the other of those two extremes. There are many levels of
possibilities in between and I'm simply assuming Rob had a good reason for
not inviting me.

Retrieving my lunch from the refrigerator I step outside and see it's
turned into a cloudy, humid day which is not conducive to eating outside. I
eat at my desk in air-conditioned comfort instead. Anyway, with Marty
working on the lawn cutting crew I'd be eating along at the picnic table
near the dumpster and would probably feel self-conscious. Taking my time
eating a slice of vanilla cake I'm thinking about me and Robby and feeling
all warm and gooey inside, or maybe it's the vanilla icing.

Omigod, Rob's and my first summer together was so special. Our massages
became so sexual with both of us breathy noisily, greatly aroused, but not
saying a word. It was just warm palms caressing bare skin under damp
T-shirts and then under the waistband of our shorts getting teasingly close
to touching private parts with never a complaint or discouraging word. It
got hard for us to catch our breath. Robby hovering over me with his
personal scent in my head and me wanting him to kiss me so badly it
hurt. Christ, it took us long enough to work up the courage for that first
tentative kiss. After everyone else had left for the day Robby and me in
the locker room taking turns pretending to massage each other's sore
muscles when we were basically trying to crawl into each other's skin. I
almost shot off in my jeans when our lips met, both of us sweaty after
cutting lawns in the sun all day. What a rush! Nothing has ever matched it
for a single thrill of a lifetime. And... oh, that was a text message ping.

Taking out my cellphone I see it's a text from Hayden. 'Flying in
Tuesday. Prepare yourself. I have ten days of yearnings to fuck you
built-up and it's all for you. Be ready.' Holy shit, that's giving me a
boner. Okay, I might need to make an exception for Hayden. I'm feeling heat
from just thinking of his face. I can see the grin on his face as he typed
that ridiculous text. That hot little body of his with his sometimes-swishy
mannerisms as he somehow dominates my ass. And that huge dick! God!

I'm Adjusting my junk pissed-off I'm having this reaction after all my
earlier talk to myself about being sick of side-sex, or at least until
Robby and I are whole again as lovers having lover's sex. Damn, this
surprises me because I wasn't especially concerned when Hayden was going to
get back from his debating competition. Obviously, he and his partner did
better than they thought they'd do if he's still there. Oh man, cutting all
that hair off Hayden's head was really hot too. Awesome haircut for him and
he looks sooooo much better now too. That tight little body on his slim
frame with his ginormous cock... damn, he's sexy hot!

Huh, there have been other side-sex buddies this summer, but not
many. There's only been Sonny and Danny, plus Dodger of course, other than
Hayden I mean. Four, huh? Plus turning down Marty and Ray... twice. That's
a lot of activity in what's basically been a month since the end of the
last semester at Merrimack, especially considering the frequency of
Dodger's contributions. Yeah, but I seriously don't have any desire for any
of them. That's except for the one I'd least expect to be hungering
for... swisher Hayden. Damn I'm messed-up.

I text Hayden back: 'Don't get ahead of yourself, hottie.' and I'm back to
daydreaming about me and Robby. Dodger said getting married is
stupid... well fuck him.  He said that as a direct repute of his brother's
wishes for him and me. I want to be married to Robby and live with him and
be together for meals and sleeping and all the sex we want. I love thinking
about that.

Finished my cake I wrap up the paper bag and realize I need to take a
piss. Yeah and I should wash-up for this afternoon's interviews. In the
Men's Room, at a urinal, is George Gleason, my first interview this
morning. George with the pale jade eyes and a haircut like mine. I've never
seen eyes the color of his before in my life. He barely turns his head to
glance at me as the door's swinging shut. I take the furthest urinal from
him mumbling, "G' afternoon, George." It's surprising I remember his name,
but those eyes of his! He nods, "Yo, how ya doing? Um, nice presentation
this morning," and he steps back pulling up his fly. Huh, he doesn't
remember my name. See, I'm not the only one who isn't good with names.

George is washing his hands with his head down so I can't see the
reflection of his amazing eyes from the mirror in front of him. I see the
top of his head though and I'll be damned, his hair, while combed like
mine, is a lot longer and thicker on top. Maybe I'll ask Robby to leave the
top hairs longer and thicker. He goes overboard with the thinning
shears. George's longer hair on top looks good. I can't think of anything
to say to George though, and why the fuck do I want to say anything more to
him anyway. Maybe because he has a baby face and I'll bet he doesn't shave,
or need to. Not anymore than I do anyway.

After drying his hands, he takes out a pocket comb and combs his hair
squinting his eyes as he does it. Ha ha, that's cute. I'm pulling up my
zipper, asking, "What do you do in Accounting, George?" Looking over he
says, "Accounting work, whaddaya think I do in Accounting?" He winks at me,
turns around and leaves. What a flaming asshole!

I wash-up fuming a little and then re-comb my hair while noticing the hairs
on the sides is just growing over the top of my ears. It looks raggedy and
that's the problem with short haircuts. It looks raggedy after say
two-or-three-weeks where with long hairdos ya can't tell the difference for
a month or two. If Robby wasn't still recovering from that minor operation
he'd have mentioned that I need to be neat for work and insisted I needed a
haircut. He's just like his Father in that regard. Ya know what? I miss
that sort of thing from Robby. Not bossy exactly but on top of things for
both of us. Hell, I miss Robby... period!

Yeah, my boyfriend, Robby. Somehow, I'm gonna jump his bones after
work. Hell, he was well enough to let Danny screw him yesterday so he's
well enough for me to do it too. Except what I really want, and need, is
for him to do me. I don't know if he can do that yet but he should be able
to by now. Just saying...

My first afternoon interview is waiting for me when I get back to the
meeting room. An older woman wearing too much cheap perfume. She turns as I
come in the room and I do my automatic smile, saying, "Hi, I'm Dylan
Newman. Sorry to keep you waiting." I could have said, 'What the hell are
you doing here?' because they're not supposed to start sending people until
I tell them to. She says, "I saw I was next on Marge's printout so after
lunch I came here instead of back to my work station." I say, "No problem,"
and look at my computer list seeing her name is, Rose Kennedy. I do not say
the obvious about the name, but instead get out a new brochure and begin
the presentation with as much enthusiasm as I can muster up. She proves to
be a good listener and politely thanks me after the presentation. No
problem signing on the dotted-line either. So good, I'm off and running.

The presentations go so well this afternoon and I'm sort of shocked when I
tabulate how many were completed by the end of the day. Well, four-ten is
close enough to the end of the day so I tell the last interviewee to ask
her boss not to send anyone else for interviews today. Whew, another Monday
is in the books. Hmmm, should I text Rob or wait for his text? Putting my
paperwork in my backpack I decide not to text Rob until four-thirty, which
is the official end of the workday. When I've got everything ready to go I
make a final trip to the Men's Room.

Yeah, I need to pee again plus I want to check how I look. Always looking
my best for Rob is what I try to do. Two men I don't know are coming out of
the Men's Room as I'm going in. We nod at each other, friendly like. After
a nice long piss, I wash-up rubbing my face vigorously getting some healthy
color on my cheeks. Then I wet my hair a little so I can re-comb it like I
had it this morning. I'd loosened the knot in my tie around two o'clock so
I tighten that and with one last pat on the hairs in front of my head I'm
satisfied with my appearance.

Back in my 'office' I force myself to wait for Rob's text and it comes at
four-thirty-five. Good! His text reads: 'Well I made it, but just
barely. Dylan, please drive to the front doors where you dropped me off
this morning.' I text back, 'I'm on my way.' He's probably too tired to
walk to the parking lot. Wait, what am I saying? He doesn't know where I
parked the pickup so of course I'll get him at the front of the building. I
drive the pickup slowly around to the front, which is like two blocks from
where I parked. It's slow going though because I don't want to run over
employees who naturally assume they have the right-of-way in the
street. They don't even look, just walk right out heading for their cars or
the bus or whatever the fuck.

It's almost ten-minutes after Rob texted me before I'm able to get around
in front of the main building where Rob is leaning against a light standard
with his suit coat off and his tie pulled down. He gives me a 'look' like
maybe he expected me sooner, or he wants me to get closer which I can't do
without driving on the sidewalk. Slowly he walks towards the car until a
man touches his shoulder and they both stop to talk for two minutes. When
the man walks off Rob shakes his head slowly and takes a deep breath
squinting like he felt a pain, and then he starts his slow walk again. I
almost want to jump out and help him to the pickup. It's like I feel when
listening to a guy who stutters: I want to finish the sentence for him
except I don't because that would be rude.

Rob gets in the passenger seat and mumbles, "Hi," and I go, "Hi, Rob. Rough
day, huh?" I'm looking both ways before pulling away from the curb and then
I coast the twenty-feet to a stop sign which is where we'll leave the
company grounds. This secondary road, Rosemont Street, leads to route
9. Cars are going by so I wait and then glance over at Rob, who hasn't said
a word. Oh, he's sound asleep. Poor bastard!

Leaning over I snap his seatbelt around him and then pull out into the flow
of traffic. At this time of the day it's rush hour traffic and therefore
very slow going. It's a silent twenty-minutes' drive before I'm in Rob's
neighborhood. I pass Hayden's house one street over from Rob's, while Danny
lives two blocks away. It's funny realizing those three grew-up as
neighbors. They met at a neighborhood block party one summer when they were
like fifteen-years-old. Dodger was around too, then
twelve-or-thirteen-years-old, but he obviously hardly registered with
Danny. Chubby and I live on the other side of downtown Framingham. The
poorer side, but not by a great deal.

Parking the pickup in the driveway next to his Mom's car I touch Rob's
shoulder lightly while quietly say his name. He doesn't even stir. He's out
of it! God, he looks a lot paler then this morning. I wonder if somehow an
infection has formed in the incision? Yeah, hasn't anyone thought of that?
Touching his forehead he feels hot, so yeah maybe an infection but wouldn't
Rob realize that himself? I undo his seatbelt and then go around to his
side of the truck and open the door. I'm prepared to catch him if he falls
out but he doesn't. He opens his eyes and mumbles, "We home?" I nod and
help him out as he drops his coat on the driveway. He mutters, "Fuck," as I
get the coat and drape it over my arm.

Standing here Rob rubs his face with both hands, mumbling, "Let me get it
together for a second. I don't want to go in there like I'm on my last leg
or Mom will freak out." I say, "Rob, you feel hot. Do you think maybe
there's an infection or something in the incision?" He mutters, "Oh,
Dr. Newman, I believe you've discovered my secret." Whatever that means. He
starts to go through the gate with me asking, "Do you want me to, um, come
in with you?" He shakes his head, "No thanks, I'm gonna go in and lie
down. Thanks, Dylan." I go, "We'll here's your suit jacket." He mutters,
"Oh yeah," and he takes it before going in the back door.

Huh, I'm guessing he's not up for sex tonight like I was hoping he would
be. Getting back in the pickup I see his backpack on the floor where his
feet were. Oh man! Guess I'll need to deal with Mrs. Dickers. Taking Rob's
backpack with me, I knock on the back door and then look through one of the
six-panes of glass that make-up the top half of the door and see Rob
sitting at the kitchen table with his mother placing a glass of water next
to him. He looks over at me, so I hold up his backpack. Rob motions for me
to come in. As soon as I walk through the door Mrs. Dickers asks me,
"Didn't you think to check on Rob, Dylan? He should have come home hours
ago." Rob says, "Don't, Mother! Don't talk like that to him. It's not
Dylan's job to babysit me. He had his own job to do and I wouldn't have
come home sooner in any case. So drop it!" He talks to his Mom in ways I've
never talked to mine, but maybe he has more of a reason to than I do.

Ignoring both of them I put the backpack next to Rob's chair, saying, "I
hope you feel better, Rob. Check out that infection possibility, will ya?"
Mrs. Dickers' head snaps around and she asks, "What infection?" I shrug, "I
don't know. He has a fever." She bustles over to a kitchen cabinet as Rob
rolls his eyes at me with a grin on his lips. She comes over with a
thermometer and Rob opens his mouth. Its battery operated and beeps almost
immediately. Mrs. Dickers looks at it and says, "You do have a fever,
Robert. It's an even one-hundred. I'm calling your father." Rob looks at me
again smirking and mouthing, 'Thanks a lot, boyfriend.' I shrug, "That's
why you haven't felt better sooner." He goes, "I was worried it might have
gotten infected when I pulled those stitches out last week. The incision is
swollen again and very tender." I go, "So you thought if you ignore
it... it would cure itself. Is that it?" Rob mutters, "I was hoping, yeah."

I leave when Mrs. Dickers tells Rob his father is on his way home and
they'll be off to the hospital again. Driving home I'm thinking it's a
relief to have a reason now for Rob's slow progress recovering. It's like
after some antibiotics Rob should now quickly be on the mend... finally.

At home, I text Chubby about dinner and then take a shower. We make
cheesesteaks from frozen shaved beef. The shaved beef is an over-priced but
really good new product available at Stop & Shop. Not the healthiest dinner
we've ever had but Chubby's in a hurry to meet some guys for a few beers
and to shoot some pool. I'm invited but don't feel like drinking so I tell
him about Rob's latest medical set-back, saying, "So I'm gonna see how he's
doing later tonight."

When Chub's gone I have a dilemma: do I intrude by texting or calling Rob
when he might still be at the hospital?  No, I don't feel like being pushy
so if Rob doesn't text me I probably won't see him until tomorrow. It's
only six-thirty though so I'd really like to see him tonight and then Danny
calls to resolve my dilemma. He goes, "Dylan, babe, Rob's at the hospital
again." I tell him I know about it and he asks me if I'll keep him company
at baseball practice. Well that's odd, so I hesitate and he explains. "I'm
sure you want to visit Rob when he's back from the hospital, and so do
I. The thing is I've gotta let my Mom use my car after practice and I'm
hoping I can get a ride to Rob's with you." I'm still not sure why I need
to watch him practice though, so I go, "Oh, you need a ride. Um, no
problem..." and he says, "Practice is less than an hour or so and you'd be
right there. Would you please?"

I don't feel like arguing so I agree to meet him at the high school. During
the drive over I reconfirm my lack of interest in side sex with Danny or
anybody else, and I'm determined to use my new word 'no' if Danny hints
around for some buddy-sex. Of course, it's presumptuous of me to assume
he'd hint around. I was the one hinting around to Danny the last time I
checked, and he's the one who isn't doing much side sex.

We both arrive at the high school parking lot at the same time. He greets
me with his friendly smile and buddy-buddy demeanor with a nice tight
shoulder hug pulling me against his side and looking me in the face,
mumbling, "Looking good as usual, Dylan." I thought for a second he was
going to kiss me on the lips right here in the parking lot. He
affectionately ruffles my hair instead, saying, "Thanks for helping me out,
babe. It's so cool we can do things together now, just the two of us. Hey,
that reminds me, Hayden's flying in tomorrow. Would you like to come with
me to Logan? We'll be Hayden's welcome home committee." I gulp and managed
to say, "Hayden, huh? What time does his flight get in?" Danny says,
"Around six o'clock. At night I mean." I mutter, "I don't know, Danny, it
would be awfully tight. I don't get out of work until, um, maybe I can go
if Rob's finally on the mend by then." He squeezes the back of my neck,
mumbling, "Rob's gonna be fine, but he doesn't like Hayden like you and I
do so I'm pretty sure he won't come with us." How's Danny know I like
Hayden like he does? Or, what the fuck was that he said exactly?

Now Danny's introducing me to two guys who are putting on baseball
cleats. They look like jocks; very average looking though. I mutter, "Nice
to meet you," already forgetting their names. There are maybe twenty people
in the stands watching practice and as I take a seat and think of all the
times, first as a senior in high school and then the past three years at
Merrimack, that I've enjoyed watching Rob's baseball practice or playing in
actual games. Huh, watching Danny's isn't hard on the eyes either. He's
like a big puppy dog out there joking and running around pointing at guys
acknowledging that when they make a good play, shouting compliments and
generally having a good time. He seems very popular with the other guys too
and I see some younger players looking for Danny's approval when they make
an especially acrobatic catch or a great throw from third to first. Danny
always has something nice to shout at them but he also joins in with the
normal ball-busting you'd expect from jocks. Lots of pats on the back or
shoulders for different guys, shoulder hugs, and laughs... he's quite
awesome actually.

In high school the better players usually were both pitchers and position
players. Robby made his name as a pitcher primarily but he was such a good
hitter that days he didn't pitch he'd play the infield. At Merrimack Rob
concentrated on the infield although I've always told him he should have
stuck with pitching. His point was he wasn't good enough as either a
pitcher or an infielder to play at the next levels so he concentrated on
his infield play because it's more fun that pitching.

Danny of course was on the same field with Robby back then, and now too,
but I never paid a lot of attention to him before. From junior year of high
school on I was fixated on Robby the pitching star. God, he was so
beautiful and athletic and now I'm noticing the same things in Danny. Not
that they look alike because they don't, although they're both extremely
attractive in their own way. Rob's got the cute handsome looks while
Danny's less boyish-looking but with an awesome smile and easy manner. He's
graceful about everything he does and I'll bet he's a good dancer too. Yeah
but then Rob's very coordinated with sports but a terrible dancer so maybe
Danny is too. They're both natural athletes doing everything with a
graceful smoothness but without apparently a need to even think about what
they're doing.

Huh, what if I happened to fixate on Danny Monday with his wide shoulders
instead of Robby in high school; just arbitrarily chose Danny. What then?
They were both sexually active back then although I didn't know it. Would I
have become as infatuated with Danny as I've become with Rob? Have a crush
on Danny like the one I had on Robby, a crush as big as a glacier. If my
eyes had looked a little to Rob's left back then they'd have settled on
Danny with his wide shoulders and slim hips and long legs and sexy
ass. Jeez, I'd probably be like Hayden now fixated on everything Danny does
or says and ready to do whatever he wants me to do. Ha ha, I'll bet Danny
wouldn't have resisted my urging for him to be my dominant 'top', to be
in-charge of us. Not the way Robby fought off my urgings. It's ironic that
he's more like in-charge at times after I told him I changed my mind about
it. Fucking ironic! No, Danny would have embraced that role the way he has
with Hayden.

It's so weird that previous to these past ten days I hardly gave Danny more
than a passing thought. Oh, I always admitted he's sexually attractive but
that's about it. Now that I'm getting to know him well I'm seeing him in an
entirely different light and it makes my dick feel heavy. It's fun watching
him do his thing with his baseball cap a little to the side and his cool
sunglasses. Yeah, he's quite the show out there. The time passes faster
than I can believe and all of a sudden everyone just starts packing up
their shit. I ask two girls sitting behind me in the bleachers, "Is that
it? Practice is over already?" A girl with incongruously long pigtails,
says, "Yep, Mondays are like fifty minute practices," and her girlfriend,
who has over-sized front teeth, lisps, "C'mon, Connie, there's Roy waving
at us." They get up and so do I.  Danny's talking to one of the coaches so
I walk down the bleachers and sort of stand there feeling self-conscious
waiting for him.

He jogs over to me with his signature big smile and puts his arms across my
shoulders pulling me tightly against him the way he's been doing lately,
saying, "That was a good workout! I wish you were out there with us." I
shrug, "Yeah, well..." and Danny gives my shoulders another hug, saying,
"Follow me to my house and I'll drop my car off for Mom." I mutter, "Sure,"
and he drops his arm down to rub my back grinning at me. I do a nervous
smile not sure what's up and he chuckles ruffling my hair again and then
says, "C'mon" as he jogs on ahead toward our cars.

Damn he looked cool with all that perspiration on his face and his pale
just-beginning mustache, his bow-shaped lips formed in that smile of his
with those dimples, one on each cheek. Danny shows lots of affection by
being a touchy/feely kind of guy although from what I can tell he's
apparently more sparing with actual sex. Maybe his sex habits of two or
three or four sex acts, some with Hayden and some with, gulp, Robby, is
normal and I'm the outlander overdoing it. I can see how less-frequent sex
might make it more special... maybe. I quickly try combing my hair with my
fingers one time trying to undo the mess Danny made of it, but I'm feeling
funny in my stomach, or is it my groin, and then I start jogging after him.

I follow him in the pickup and it's less than a ten-minute drive to Danny's
house. He parks giving me a wave and his big smile and then runs inside for
a minute. Out he comes jogging over to the pickup. He gets in and casually
leans over to do a quick kiss on my lips, and then says, "I didn't get a
chance to do that at the high school." He's putting on his seatbelt with me
thinking I should protest the quick kiss but find I don't want too. Instead
I go, "Yeah, our one big happy family's quick-as-a-wink-kiss on the lips,
huh?" He smiles, 'We're like gay brothers, bro. You, me, Hayden and Rob."
Damn, the full weight of Danny's personality is, um, really something. And
Rob sort of inferred Danny's not too bright, huh. I haven't picked-up on
that yet. I'm staring at him until he grins, asking, "What?" I shake my
head, muttering, "Oh, nothing, but are you sure it's okay for us to just
barge in on Rob at eight o'clock, um, tonight without calling first?" He
goes, "Sure, why wouldn't it be?"

See, that's a level of self-confidences that I don't have. I'm always
second guessing myself. I grin at him, mumbling, "Well okay then, if you
say so."

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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