Date: Sat, 9 Jun 2018 20:42:20 -0400
From: Bill <mgtbill@aol.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR SUMMER     Chapter 40

DYLAN'S SUMMER FOLLOWING HIS COLLEGE JUNIOR YEAR

Chapter  40

by  Donny Mumford


The Moms, Tom, Tim, Rob, Chub, and I all had an excellent time at my
birthday dinner tonight. A truly spectacular aspect of the night was the
incredible generous birthday gifts. The Bay Shore Restaurant didn't
disappoint for sure, and the twins, Tim and Tom, most definitely didn't
either. Generous, cool, wonderful men, who are still in their 'thirties'
and who Chub and I can relate okay. They're the Moms future husbands,
Chub's and my future Step-Dads! We feel blessed ourselves and couldn't be
happier for our Moms.

We all had champagne and other alcoholic beverages with dinner and then
after-dinner drinks at the Hilton Hotel that overlooks the Atlantic
Ocean. Chub, Rob, and I then spent the rest of the night on the Boardwalk
while our Moms and their guys went ballroom dancing, or some such thing.

It was awesome fun seeing Rob's reaction to the Boardwalk, an experience
totally new to him. Mostly it was Robby and me who went on all the thrill
rides while Chubby, as usual, spent a lot of time talking with and trying
to pick-up girls. Chub isn't hitting any home runs this summer
though...sex-wise, I mean. Not that he's given-up trying. I wish him all
the luck in the world with that but now that Rob's here my prospects in
that regard have soared and therefore switched from a minus factor to a
plus for this summer's vacation.

The three of us get back to the summer house before one o'clock in the
morning and find that the Moms and twins are still out doing their thing,
not that we expected to see them. Those guys often out-last us in
late-night-partying, and good for them. It is kinda early for us too though
so we grab beers and go out on the deck.

Wow, what a view on this cloudless night! A million stars with a big Moon
shining off the ocean as far as we can see while the sounds of waves
breaking on the shoreline create the perfect shore atmosphere. Our rental
house is further forward than the rests so from our viewpoint we're the
only ones here. Good comfortable deck-chairs too. Oh man, there's a lot to
be said for going first-class and we all click our beer bottles together
toasting our benefactors in that regard, Tim and Tom.

Lighting a cigarette, Chub says, "Well it's not your birthday anymore,
Dylan. How's it feel to be twenty-two for almost a whole day?" Reaching
over for his cigarette, I take a drag and while exhaling, mutter, "Older,
Chub. I feel much older than I did on Tuesday, and I might add much wiser
too. If you have any questions about life, go ahead and ask them." The
breeze off the ocean swirls my exhaled smoke around before it seems to just
disappear. Robby chuckles and hits my arm, saying, "Hey, it just occurred
to me that you're the oldest one here, Dylan, and you always will be. I
just realized that." Yeah that's true, but only by two days over Chubby and
thirteen-days over Robby. Still, I hate being the oldest! I don't know why
exactly, but I hate being the oldest. Giving Robby a 'look', I mutter,
"Thank you for that uplifting news-flash, Robert." He murmurs, "I'm teasing
you, babe."

Drinking our beers and smoking our cigarettes we talk about nothing
important, just rehashing the dinner and our Boardwalk experiences
tonight. It's so cool that the three of us are here like this and I tell
myself to savor this time together. Unfortunately, the 'moment' doesn't
always resonate somehow, although that's no big deal. It's almost too much
to expect something else extra ordinary to happen after all the wonderful
things that have already happened tonight.

There's no special reason it feels a little bit 'flat' just now. Chubby's
not on one of his humorous 'rolls' that normally keeps us laughing, and
none of us feels like getting into one of those pseudo intellectual
discussion like we sometimes do at college when drinking. Probably because
we're not drunk. In retrospect those serious-drunken-college-discussions
seem pretentiously foolish to me. Even so, ha ha, I'll probably participate
in a few similar booze-initiated discussions like that during senior
year. Ya know, when drinking too much it's hard to keep my opinions to
myself when hearing other inane opinions. Why not add my inane opinions to
the discussion? College students tend to think we have better answers than
the older adults in-charge of running the world, or the banks, or
police... you name it and we think we know more than they do. Smoking pot
along with drinking can be an additional factor in our delusions as
well. Most of the time we can't remember or care about our discussions when
waking-up hungover the next day.

Yeah, lots of college students do that sort of thing. And yes, it seems
like fun while we're doing the superficial cherry-picking of solutions to
the world's problems. In hindsight however, it's more like we're
demonstrating for all to witness the ignorance and arrogance of youth. A
lot of us actually realize that, but others don't and continue through life
boring everyone with their never-in- doubt half-baked and uninformed
opinions about, well... about anything and everything. Whatever, the three
of us aren't into that tonight.

Early on Rob is hinting that he's ready for bed, even mentioning it
out-right a couple of times. Chub won't hear of it though and talks us into
having one more beer, and then another. Maybe he's hoping this night on the
deck drinking together will 'take-off' and become one of the memorable
nights for us brothers and brothers-in-law-to-be. Like I said though, it
needs to happen on its own 'cause ya can't force special stuff like that.

Also, for Rob and me, loitering in the back of our minds is the prospect of
having a special lover's reunion in bed tonight. I'm wondering however if
that opportunity may have passed us by along with the last four beers we've
consumed on the deck.

And then, because of the four beers Robby and I need to piss like race
horses so we share the downstairs half-bath's toilet to take care of
that. Robby and I are standing side-by-side pissing, as he says, "Dylan,
I'm seriously having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I hate to punk out
on you guys but I gotta get to bed now." I'm like, "Yeah, we will, but hang
in there just a couple of more minutes 'cause Chub's running out of
energy. I can tell... you'll see."

And I'm right. Chub finishes his beer and wants to get to bed too. The
final decision was helped along greatly when we see a flash of headlights
on the beach as Tom's Mercedes makes the turn onto the gravel-alley behind
the house. None of us feels like interacting with the Moms and their guys
this late at night. We quickly carry our beer bottles to the kitchen and
get our asses upstairs. Chub and I do a nice hug goodnight and then after
Rob and Chub bump fist, both bedroom doors close.

Inside our bedroom Rob leans against the door, saying, "Tonight has been
fabulous, Dylan, but it's also been a wicked long day for me. I was up for
work before six o'clock this morning and it's almost three o'clock now. As
tired as I am though, I'm pretty sure I can manage to catch-up a little
more on the 'loving' with you I've been missing. Tired or not I don't even
wanna think about sleep before we catch-up on that a little more. Whaddaya
say, babe?" I'm taking my shirt off feeling really tired myself but still
definitely on the same wave length Rob's on. To tease him though I stall a
second, asking with a grin, "Um, where do you want me to put this?" meaning
the shirt Rob lent me when mine got cum spots all over it during our
earlier 'catching-up' on missed 'loving'.

Rob walks over and takes the shirt from my fingers and hangs on the back of
the desk chair, saying, "Don't pretend to be blasé about it, babe... ha
ha. The hell with the shirt. We need a little 'loving' before beddy-bye?" I
go, "Oh yeah, that. Hell, you know damn well I always want to do some of
that with you, Robby! Always with you until the stars fall from the sky."
He looks startled for a second and then grins, mumbling, "Oh, that's from
the birthday card I gave you." Grinning back at him, I murmur, "Touching
sentiment for me from my hunky lover boy."

He puts his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, murmuring, "I'm
not hunky," and we kiss. Just a kiss, but one that's special because it's
with Rob. They're all special with him. This one comes along with the
memory of the thousands of other meaningful kisses we've had... lots and
lots of sexy kisses over the years.

Not that I have any control over it but the kiss is a stimulus igniting
impulse-conducting cells in my central nervous system that decode electric
signals in the hippocampus which immediately binds diverse elements from
past events to form a singular and holistic memory and it does this all at
the speed of light. Individual threads are coupled together into a tapestry
of associations and I'm re-immersed into all those experiences while adding
this kiss to all the rest. Yes, that's what happens...

Kissing is the human behavior where 'nature' complements 'nurture' and it's
probably the most humanizing behavior one can share with another. During an
amorous kiss the brain dictates a hugely disproportionate amount of
attention to the lips as compared to the much larger mass of our bodies. An
amorous kiss instigates in the brain a 'cocktail' of dopamine, oxytocin,
and serotonin creating pleasure and arousal. Yep, a kiss can be quite
something when done with the right person. For the record though, there's a
Grand Canyon of differences between how the brain reacts to a romantic kiss
and a platonic one. Ya can't put anything over on the brain in that regard
except when there's over-usage of substances like cocaine, hard liquor, or
something worse. Yeah, that can fuck things up, so keep that in mind.  Word
to the wise, don't get higher than a kite can fly and kiss your sister
'cause the brain may misinterpret the signals and... well, just don't do
it.

While all that's going on in my brain Rob's arms are around me feeling sexy
and strong, plus his scent is always there too. His unique personal scent
floods my olfactory glands and instantaneously adds to the arousal and
desire stimulated by the kiss. It's all quite effective for instigating
sex!

Our kiss starts out as a gentle sweet-luscious lover's kiss, one that lasts
almost a minute. The effect is initially exactly what I've come to expect
of a lover's kiss. The problem is, in this instance, we're both still
easily over-aroused by one another due to the infrequency of intimacy
during the past week. Especially considering the frequency of sex together
that we've become used to, so consequently the kiss becomes a little
desperate. We're soon groping each other and losing our balance. Flopping
over onto the bed we squirm together and it's looking more and more like
lover's sex will need to wait once again as our sexual hunger takes over to
deal with the immediate sexual 'need' between us.

Rob's on the bottom this time as I suck on his mouth, our tongues sliding
together while our hands rub each other's body as quiet moans of arousal
are slipping from our throats, adding to the sexual heat. I've got a
fistful of Rob's longish blond hair pulling his head back as I hump my
hips, our hardening cocks bumping, our faces together and our noses
side-by-side inhaling the other's scent.

This amount of energy output should be surprising considering that
two-minutes ago we claimed to be sooooo tired, slowly trudging upstairs
looking forward to sleeping, but all that's forgotten now. It's not long
before Rob's strength gets us up on our sides and then he's on top of me
again. It's deja vu all over again... just like five-hours ago when Rob
first arrived. This time though, due to over exuberance we both slide off
the side of the bed with our mouths still together. Snickering as we get up
off the floor, but Rob doesn't go for the lubricant like he did
earlier. Instead we get back into a heated make-out while groping each
other's clothes, pulling at shorts and underpants. Well, wild animals don't
know anything about lubricant. They use Nature's lubricant known as
pre-cum. Well it's not known as pre-come to wild animals I suppose, they
just do 'it' from instinct. They can't help themselves and in this case,
neither can we.

Our mouths separate and for a second we exchange mutually hungry
expressions, our eyes big and shiny and then Rob finishes getting my shorts
down to my ankles. I kick one leg out of my shorts, and then kick again to
get my shorts off my foot entirely. Rob leans me over the bed and spreads
my legs while I push out my ass. With one hand he pulls his own shorts down
and uses his other hand smacking my ass hard. The "SMACK! SMACK!" sounds
ring-out in the room as my boner tightens-up so hard I grimace, the
foreskin stretched off the head until it's ready to tear.

Rob grunts as the wet head of his boner pokes my butt cheek near my
asshole, then on the other side before the third hump hits dead center and
with a gasp he leans against me and the very fat head spreads the lips
painfully as Rob grunts again and the entire head forces it's way in past
my sphincter muscle. The burning brings back memories of all those years we
fucked without lubricant, fools that we were. I kinda like a trip down
memory lane though and push my ass back into his pressure even though the
pain is causing my ears to ring and red balloons are popping in my
head. Rob groans now as maybe his boner is hurting a little too. We're
spoiled from our year of lubricant usage and not ready to rough it like in
the days of our youth.

There's fire around the lips of my very stretched anus and a burning
sensation coming off my prostate as Rob's big, fat boner makes its way up
my ass. Pain or not, I revel in it and almost cum. This is so fucking hot
and sexy to me... hardcore, rough sex from my lover.

In a way it's flattering that he can't wait to feel his cock up my ass,
can't wait for us to share this most intimate experience. My mouth is
tightly closed preventing me from crying out at the pain that's already
beginning to lessen around my up-for-almost-anything asshole. I'm not
experiencing anything like pure pleasure yet, but my rectum is a trooper,
it's magical and the hurt and burning hasn't discouraged it at all. Anyway
the burning and pain are beginning to transition quickly into the kind of
sexual pleasure I know is coming.

Rob's determined that the head of his boner continues steadily on its
journey up my ass and I know that short trip is almost complete when I feel
his pubic hair tickling my butt cheeks. Getting a firm grip around and in
front of my hips Rob lift me off the bed a little as he humps until his
crotch and groin are very tightly against my ass... very tightly and now I
hear a quiet moan of sexual pleasure from him and already it's
one-hundred-percent sexual pleasure for me too. Just to be sure, and maybe
because he's feeling in-charge, he does another hard albeit unnecessary
hump against my firm, plump, butt cheeks. Every muscle in my body was
clenched against the pain that's now expiring completely so I sigh and
relax to concentrate on the pleasure of having a hard penis up my ass.

I feel his fat cock grow a little longer and fatter inside me as he moans
again, "Ooooh, yeaaaaah," I see in my mind's eye his enlarging boner
pushing-out the walls of my rectum and then the head pushing a half-inch
further into my bowels. The pleasure is beginning to soar through me now as
all pain is forgotten and it's so nice I sigh again, or is it a moan of
pleasure, "Ooooh." In either case it encourages Rob to pull me even tighter
against his crotch which pushes the head of his engorged penis a tiny bit
further up my ass, maybe another quarter-inch by slightly flattening my
relaxed buttock. He has me exactly where he wants me now... and I love it.

I enjoy feeling submissive to his minor dominance, but everything has
happened so quickly. Yes, from the time the head of his boner hit near my
asshole until right now has only taken like thirty-seconds. It seemed
longer when the burning fire was blazing, but now that the pleasure inside
me is soaring it seems like no time at all. With his fingers still digging
into my belly next to my hips Rob pulls his boner back and then shoves it
right back up my ass making me go, "Auuughh," and my rectum is ablaze once
again with pain but only for two-seconds and then there's some minor pain
again when he pulls back and thrust it back in a second time just show my
rectum who's boss. My feet dig at the floor briefly until the pleasure
sensations fully return and then a third hard thrust of his engorged cock
gets Robby and me both quietly moaning, "Ooooh, mmmm," and I'm like, "Oooh
fuck, that feels good, Robby."

My ass is totally ready to be fucked-hard now. Robby did a commendable job
of seeing to that, and he did it in a way I need to admit was borderline
dominant; yeah it was kinda dominant although I know he wasn't thinking
that. He was just super-aroused... like me. Considering the rough entrance,
shockingly my cock got even a tiny bit harder making me do a pathetic whine
of arousal as my whole body shudders. Robby murmurs, "Feel good, baby?" I
moan, "Mmmmm."

Fully impaling me Rob lets go of my hips and I sink the inch back onto the
mattress as he rubs his hands up and down my sides and then on my back,
murmuring, "This feels better every time we do it, doesn't it?" My chest is
flat on the bed and I turn my head to the side, murmuring back at him,
"Rob, that was so hot the way you forced your big boner in. You're so
awesome and I'm so happy you're here." There are ripples of sensations
coming off my squished prostate and all around my very stretched
asshole. Yeah, little enticing electric sparklers are going off like a
tantalizing itch that Rob's boner will soon scratch in the most luscious
manner.

He casually smacks the side of my ass, "Smack," and says, "You couldn't be
any happier than I am that we're together here, Dylan. Okay, babe, here we
go, babe," and he begins another hard and fast fucking with the magic
sounds of our bodies slapping together and there's pleasure like no other
that swarms from my rectum to spread out all over me from the ends of my
hair on my head to my toes. "SLAPSLAPSLAP," with grunts from both of
us. "Umm, umm, umm, umm," from me with each thrust that drives his fat,
fire-plug boner back and forth inside my rectum as Rob grunts, "Ahh, ahh,
ahh," and I moan, "Umm, umm, ummm!" It's a fairly noisy fuck but all I'm
thinking about is the constant drum beat of sexual pleasure banging in my
brain until I can't think of anything but the pleasure and who's creating
it. Rob never leaves my mind.

It's a two-minute tsunami of sexual pleasure with Rob's thrusting fat boner
sliding tightly back and forth in my ass, his groin or crotch smacking
against my buttocks every half-second, "Slapslapslap." What a rush! There
are still no words that do it justice and then, way too soon, the
king-climax has its bossy way kicking everything up a hundred notches on
the pleasure scale with me tightening every muscle in my body and trying to
squeal but, like earlier, the sensations overwhelm me and I only make a
wheezing gasping sound as my hips hump spastically and cum streaks out
straight onto the side of the bedspread we were too aroused to remove
before we started. And then again and this time I do squeal as cum comes
out so hard it burns the head of my ridiculously hard boner.

As I gasp at the enormous Mount Everest of orgasmic pleasure Rob's tightly
against my buttocks humping against those butt cheeks firing a long warm,
slippery string of his semen inside me as he makes a loud breathy sound
followed by, "Oooooh!" and then more cum gets shot up my ass and he leans
over onto my back gasping for air with me sighing contentedly

And now the thought occurs to me again that Rob and I were very noisy
during our quick and heated sex. There's sizzling after- effects of my
climax zipping around my groin making me shiver with pleasure so that
momentary 'noise' concern lasts but a few seconds. As the sensations all
come to rest I think again that we may have been too loud.

Giving it a little more thought however, this bigger guest bedroom with a
view of the ocean is at the end of the hall almost by itself. My Mom's and
Tom's room is on the other side of the hall with the stairway in between
us, and then Tris' and Tim's room is further down from that. And, like at
home there are two bathrooms between Rob's and my bedroom and Chubby's
bedroom. Plus, this is a luxury home and all the doors are solid wood, no
hollow doors in this house like in cheaper construction. So, what I'm
thinking is no one heard a fucking thing coming out of this room, no more
than we've heard anything coming from any other room. Sweet!

None of that did I concern myself with prior or during our almost out of
control sex act. There could have been hollow door that were all open
upstairs and I don't think we would have stopped, or could have. It would
have been outrageously inconsiderate of us but that wasn't the case so no
harm, no foul. We're good for now but we need to think before losing
control the next time we're someone's guests in their house.

Lifting off my back, Robby murmurs, "That was a bit out of control,
Dylan. Totally my fault again." His sloppy cock pulls from my ass leaving
my anus gaping open with cool air drifting up inside me and meeting Rob's
cum on its way out. Still lying half on and half off the bed, I turn my
head to look at him, and murmur, "You were perfect, Rob. That was
spectacular sex. You get better every time even though I can hardly believe
it." He pats my ass, saying, "It's you who makes it perfect, babe," and
then, "Stay right there and I'll get a washcloth to wipe off the spunk
that's coming out of your rear end."

I'm perfectly content to lie here as Rob wets a washcloth with warm water
in the bathroom and then comes back to wipe his cum off my ass. As he's
doing that, I mumble, "I totally destroyed this fucking bedspread." After
drying my ass, Rob's like, "Yeah, guess we should have thought about that
ahead of time." I get off the bed and stand up. We both gawk at my cum
drooling down the side of the bedspread for a second and then Rob mutters,
"Jesus, that's a lot of spunk," and the way he said it makes me chuckle and
go, "Yeah, it's your fault, like you said," He snickers and goes, "It's a
little bit your fault too. I mean, that gooey stuff isn't mine. I
cleaned-up mine."

Damn, it's always something! Pulling off the bedspread, I'm like, "This
thing looks too fancy to throw in the washing machine." Yeah, this is what
happens after our recreational sex. When we're done fucking we move on to
practical matters. With lover's sex we're hugging and cuddling for quite a
while after the sex and sometimes fall asleep in each other's arms. Now
we've got a practical concern that Rob shrugs at, saying, "We'll get it
dry-cleaned or something. Let's not worry about it now, I need to get some
sleep."

After Rob folds the bedspread neatly and puts it on the shelf in the closet
we do our basic bathroom routines before collapsing in this awesome bed. A
hug and that's about it before we're quickly in dreamland. Well, actually
I'm not sure about dreamland as there's no way to know if Robby dreamed,
and if I did I don't remember what my dreams were about. I do know I'm
lying next to Robby at nine o'clock the next morning watching him
sleep. From the look of him he's going to be sleeping quite a while longer
so I try going back to sleep myself.

After dozing off a few times I'm now staring out the window. Lying here in
bed I can't see the beach but I can see the Atlantic Ocean way out there. I
can also see a clear sky and a serious looking sun so that means another
excellent beach day. That's if Rob ever wakes-up. I'm not gonna wake him
though because he was up like twenty-hours straight yesterday, plus the
traveling here from Framingham couldn't have been restful.

Looking at my wristwatch I see it's now almost ten o'clock. Huh, that's
kinda late but I can't hear a thing outside this room. Actually, I can't
hear a thing inside this room either. Hmmm, Robby certainly is sleeping
silently. He even breathes quietly and never have I heard a 'snore' once
pass from his mouth or throat, or wherever they come from. As nice as it is
to lie here I'm unable to do thata second longer because I've gotta piss,
so screw it I get out of bed. In the bathroom taking my morning
piss... aaaah, then a shower. Damn, I'm feeling pretty fucking good after
the shower!

Back in the bedroom I get dressed as quietly as I can and then comb my hair
for three-minutes all the time thinking that Robby's longish hair looks
kinda cool. Huh, maybe I'll play follow-the-leader with that. I tried
longer hair last spring and wasn't happy with it but that was then and this
is now, which makes no sense at all but what the fuck?

As soon as I open our substantial bedroom door I hear all kinds of activity
downstairs. Mom and Tris are laughing at something Tom is saying but I
can't make out what it is he's saying. Jesus, Mom and Tris are laughing
their nuts off... I mean, if they had nuts. Yes, it's very encouraging to
see there's still fun-possibilities even at advanced ages! Good to know!
Jeez though, with all the drinking and staying out super-late like the Moms
and twins do, and then they're up and sounding fresh and hangover-free! How
the hell is that possible?

As I'm going down the stairs I hear Chubby's voice and he's saying, 'Half
of what you just said, Tommy, is contradictory, ya know?" Tom goes, "No,
no, Jeffrey?" Chub chuckles and says, "Ipso facto, it's half bull shit."
Tom goes, "Quid pro quo," and Chub says, "Nolo contendere," and I hear Tom
laughingly and then saying, "Post hoc ergo propter hoc," and now Chubby
laughs, saying, "Hey, no fair... I only had high school French," and then
everyone laughs because that wasn't French. Tom goes, "High school French
isn't gonna help you much when talking Latin, my friend."

I walk into the kitchen and see everyone is drinking coffee with big smiles
on their faces. Frowning, and in my early-morning voice, I mutter, "What
the hell's going on? Who were those guys talking Spanish?" There's chuckles
as I get hugged and kissed on the cheek from the Moms and pats on the back
from Tom and Tim before Chub's asking, "How'd you sleep, bro?" I nod,
mumbling, "Good, Chub," and he and I hug quickly as Mom says, "Those two
Spaniards had no idea what they were saying, Dylan," and Tom hugs her
around the waist, saying, "Yes, we did. Didn't we, Jeff?"

Omigod, could they all still be drunk? That would explain all the early
morning revelry. Jesus, maybe I was giving everyone too much
credit. Whatever, it's nice when everyone is happy and full of life. And
after all... we are on vacation.

After some minimal discussion it's decided that no one feels like cooking
breakfast so we're going out to have breakfast at the Great Breakfast Diner
in Wildwood Crest. That's actually the name of the diner according to Tom,
although I've never heard of it. The twins recommend it highly though so
that's good enough for us. I say, "Um, Rob and I will meet you there. He
had a really long day yesterday and he's still sleeping." Mom goes, "No,
sweetheart, well wait for Rob," and Tim goes, "In that case I'll whip-up
some Mimosas while we wait." The Moms are all for that while Chubby and I
make a 'face' at each other. Champagne and orange juice isn't what I want
first thing in the morning. Instead I have plain orange juice and
coffee. Then, even though he made a 'face' at the thought of a Mimosa, Chub
has one too. Well what the fuck? I would have had one if I knew Chub was
going to...

We're all out on the deck a half-hour later when I see Robby coming
downstairs wearing only shorts. He sees me on the deck and motions for to
come in. Wow, he has a nice body! I go inside and ask, "How ya feeling,
Rob?" He shrugs, "Okay, I guess. What's everybody doing?" I tell him about
the Mimosas and our plans for having breakfast at some diner and he nods,
mumbling, "I'll finish getting dressed. Um, do you think you can get me one
of those drinks?" I go, "Sure," and he grins, muttering, "You're very
nice," and I mutter, "Bite me." He laughs and goes back upstairs as I go
out on the deck again. There's a pitcher of Mimosa mixture on the end table
so I pour a glass for Rob telling everyone, "Rob's up so we can go for
breakfast in a few minutes."

In the bedroom I give the Mimosa to Rob and he mumbles, "Thanks, babe," and
then after taking a sip he exclaims, "Hey, this is good!" I'm like, "Yeah?
Let me try it." I take a sip and pass the glass back to him, muttering, "A
ruination of perfectly good orange juice." Rob goes, "No it's not," and
then he goes, "This house is so damn cool, babe. Don't ya think?" I nod,
"Oh yeah, it's the best place we've ever stayed at in Wildwood." He says
excitedly, "Damn, I'm glad Jeff called me. It's awesome being on vacation!"

Jeez, the poor guy! His taskmaster-father never allows Rob to have a summer
vacation... and that's just sad. Sure, they go away for spring break, like
to The Grand Canyon and things like that, but nothing during the
summer. Thinking about it though, the summer is their company's busiest
time of the year so it's kind of understandable they don't vacation
then. I'm really happy Rob's enjoying himself here though, and it looks
like we'll have a very nice beach day. I like watching Rob get ready to go
out. He's so meticulous about everything.

When we're all finally ready to go for breakfast, Tim drives his new
Mustang with the top down. The Moms and Tom go with him while Rob drives us
guys in the rental car, following the Mustang to the diner.

For breakfast it's hard to beat a New Jersey diner. Other meals though I
much prefer restaurants specializing in lunch and dinners. Diners tend to
try to be all things to all tastes offering such a wide variety that they
don't do anything especially well. Not so for breakfast, they've got that
meal down perfect if you ask me. We had that awesome dinner last night but
it's getting close to lunchtime so we all order a lot of food this
morning. Perhaps the Moms and the twins need to sop-up the booze in their
systems.  Pancakes, eggs, muffins, home fries, toast, fresh fruit, plain
orange juice and coffees... you name it and one of us ordered it. Good
'diner coffee' too. Coffee that doesn't taste anything like Starbuck's. The
Moms both almost ordered eggs Benedict but settled for soft boiled eggs on
toast because Tom warned them not to challenge the diner's ability to make
Hollandaise sauce. Very prudent warning I thought.

Great breakfast! And, in the diner I actually found myself doing some
boy-watching again. I got re-started doing that last night at the
restaurant with the super-cute busboy. I never saw him again but he wet my
appetite for 'looking'. Like I thought last night, with Rob here it oddly
frees me up to be interested in my old past-time. That's weird I know, but
I'm in the best mood I've been in since I got here and it's renewed my
interests in 'looking'. Not that I'd take it any further than just
'looking', certainly not with Robby here but it's still fun to look.

After breakfast we're back at the house loading-up with everything we
normally take to the beach, mostly for the Moms. Things like a big beach
umbrella, cooler, radio, and beach blankets for when they want to leave
their beach chairs and sprawl out on a blanket. Other things too, although
the Moms help by carry their own huge beach bags containing everything you
could think of and some things you couldn't think of. Plus, of course, the
aforementioned beach chairs for everyone, plus reading material,
cellphones, and whatever. Our arms are full as we walk the four-blocks to
the closet beach we approve of. This one does have lifeguards which Chubby
and I would avoid if we were alone.

We, Chub and I, always have the job of getting the umbrella standing in the
sand on its own and not falling over or blowing over in the stiff breeze
coming off the ocean. Once settled down we all take a seat and begin with
the sun screen application as we continue our conversations of exchanging
experiences from last night that we started reciting at breakfast.

Then it's a normal beach day without anything going wrong, or especially
going right... just normal. That means swimming, sunbathing, reading,
listening to music, dozing off a little and, for me, it usually means
taking a long walk on the beach. Yesterday I was too gloomy to do that, but
not today. Robby comes with me but Chubby stays behind talking with two
girls who set-up on the beach with their parents near where we set-up our
stuff.

As we walk away, Rob says, "Nice looking girls Jeff's hustling, huh?" I
nod, uninterested as I'm checking out guys and wondering if Rob ever does
that. Ya know, now that I think about it I've never noticed his eyes
roving. Not when I've been with him although maybe it's different when I'm
not with him. Either way it's not that important.

Today I'm re-realizing something I'd noticed years ago from the thousands
of guys I've snuck a gawking peek at in my travels. It's that almost all
guys my age, and especially the younger ones, have something cute about
them even when they're not what I consider attractive, cute, or good
looking. Sure, it often comes down to the last possible thing, meaning
their grin or smile, but at least there's that one cute aspect in almost
every guy I've ever seen... almost every guy. There are the rare few whose
'looks' are without even the 'cute grin' exception; the unfortunate few who
have unredeemable bad 'looks'. I feel really bad for them although they
very likely don't give shit. That being said there's another real oddity as
regard attractiveness and it's that there's also a tiny minority of guys
whose 'looks' get screwed-up when grinning or smiling. Yeah, it works in
reverse. I mean they're cute, attractive or good looking good-looking guys,
but totally screw-up their 'looks' when they smile.

It's sad but true that the smiles on these rare few guys make them look
dumb or, as politically incorrect as this is, they look slightly
retarded. Tom Brady doing a big smile falls into this category if you ask
me. Don't smile that big smile with your mouth open and all your teeth
showing, Tom! What the hell, I'm sure Gisele has told him that a hundred
times. And ya know, you're born with your smile; it's not like you can do
much about a bad one. Yeah, you're sorta stuck with it. All I'm saying to
those few guys is... be aware of this and keep your fucking smiling to a
bare minimum, dude. Jesus!

And yes, most people wouldn't realize some of these facts regarding a guy's
'looks' because they haven't studied guys' 'looks' to the extent I
have. Also, yes. I'm very much aware that I'm overly fixated on guys'
appearances but from my ten-to-twelve-years of 'looking' I've become a
fucking expert on the subject... in my mind anyway.

During our walk Rob and I talk about his one-day experience at the Wildwood
shore so far and it makes me feel good all over that he's so excited about
everything. It's so nice that good-guys like Rob are willing to express how
much they appreciate something rather than be like some assholes who
pretends to be way too 'cool' with everything and so they hide their real
feelings. Rob's cool, don't get me wrong, but he's also honest and
complimentary and always willing and anxious to be excited. That's the best
way to be, ya know?

Not long into our walk, against all odds, we run into someone we know from
Framingham High. And, this guy isn't a baseball player like most of the
guys are who Robby knows from high school. This is none-athletic, George
Hayward, who was in both Rob's and my homeroom during different years, so
we both know him. Well, I sort of know him but it's Rob who remembers the
guy's name. Jesus, George is the third guy from Framingham I've bumped into
on the beach or boardwalk this summer. Extremely unusual!

The three of us talk about what we have in common, meaning high school, but
only for a minute and then ask each other about college. Looking at George
it's apparent he hasn't gotten any better looking during the past
three-years, plus he's put on some unfortunate fat around his waist
too. Plus, he's a hairy fucker which is something I had no way of knowing
until now seeing him in a bathing suit. Oh, he says he's going to MIT. Huh,
who knew he was a brainiac? It seems he's also gotten more annoying over
the years too, saying, "Hey guys, how about the weather down here this
week, hashtag Wildwood."

Okay, that right there is an asshole-move if I've ever heard one. Saying
'hashtag' out-loud to emphasize an obvious point, or any point, is
cringe-worthy-geeky! I see Rob roll his eyes at that and then we end our
discussion with George shortly thereafter. Walking away, Rob mutters, "What
an asshole. Was he an asshole in high school, Dylan?" I'm making a face,
mumbling, "Fuck, I didn't know him that well, hashtag, asshole," and we
both laugh with Rob muttering, 'We're terrible."

Speaking of assholes, I'm on the lookout for Theodore or Lee. Neither of
whom do I want to see or talk to; I'm only interested in seeing them before
they see me in order to do whatever I need to in order to avoid either
one. And I'm not telling Rob about that incident for fear he'd turn into
this insane person looking for more revenge, and I mean worse than Chubby
even, and that'd be way more trouble than it's worth. None of us need that!

Hmmm, that reminds me that I still have Theodore's cellphone back at the
house. I've half-expected it to hear it ring, but it hasn't. He must have
informed his friends and family he 'lost' that cellphone and he maybe got a
new one with a new number that he's told everyone about. That's what I'd do
in his situation. I'll probably just throw his phone out when I leave. All
the personal information he got from me is on the phone, so as long as he
doesn't have it I'm good.

Rob and I walk way down almost to the other end of the two-mile beach that
runs along the Boardwalk before we turn around to go back. We get into a
semi-serious discussion about work, one of Rob's favorite subjects, and
then about our upcoming senior year and how we want to get good grades so
that we're trending upwards as we finish college, and then he talks about
having second-thoughts regarding the condo he already put a
forty-thousand-dollar down-payment on. And the condo unit won't even be
built for almost a year. Sure, he bought the place for like
twenty-five-thousand under the cost the units will go on the market for
when completed but so what if he doesn't like the town it's in.

Yeah, he's having buyer's remorse about the condo being in Westborough. The
couple of days he worked there left a bad taste in his mouth. I'm
noncommittal about it; not enthusiastically affirming what he's saying or
strongly objecting to it. Time has a way of changing things and, not being
a good 'planner' myself, right now I prefer to think about, well... the
here and now. In my mind that extends all the way out to include what we'll
do tonight. The discussion with Rob about me and a master's degree is on
the back burner for now. I first need give it a lot more thought to maybe
logically come-up with a reason it doesn't make sense for me, although I
want to encourage Chubby to do it if he wants to. This is like a huge
conundrum for me, and a scary unpleasant one too although I not sure yet
why I think it's scary.

Anyway, Rob's not offended that I'm not endorsing what he's saying and at
one point actually admits, "Of course this is all conjecture to a certain
degree, Dylan. You know, depending on things that may occur that we have no
way of predicting. Do ya know what I mean, babe?" I nod, "Oh sure, Rob." I
refrain from saying... exactly!

By the time we get back and join Chubby for a swim in the ocean it's way
past time for lunch. Of course, after that big breakfast we weren't
thinking about eating until now. We tell our Moms and the twins that we'll
treat for lunch today. Something simple and they are all for that. Hell,
it's the least we can fucking do, ya know? Chub, Rob, and I trudge thru the
sand up to the Boardwalk to get pizzas again today.

For six people we order four large pizzas and six large plastic cups of
Coke with ice, straws, and lids. Robby absolutely insists on paying for all
of it himself, all $126.50 of it. Chub wants to split it three-ways but Rob
insists it's his treat. Chub and I relent after deciding he and I will buy
dinner for everyone tonight. It'll be take-out food again because cooking
dinner just doesn't seem like a thing you do on vacation... not if you can
help it.

It takes all three of us to carry everything back and the Moms and guys
start in with way too many compliments until I tell everyone it was Rob's
treat; Chub and I were just helping carry it back. So Robby gets all the
pats on the back and the thanks. He blushes more than I do and being humble
thanks everyone for about the tenth time since he got here for inviting
him... and it went like that for a while. Like I said earlier, it's
fantastic when everyone is happy, and it goes without saying the biggest
thanks go to Tim and Tom who are spending a hundred times more than that
lunch cost when everything is said and done.

Later in the afternoon Chub, Rob, and I walk down the beach but in the
other direction this time, past the end of the Boardwalk where we see some
guys and girls have cleared enough shells and stones off the sand to set up
a volleyball net. We decide to get in the game as a four-man-team by
challenging the winners. They at first seem not to be familiar with the
'challenge' tradition claiming they just put up the net and so forth and,
um, they don't know us. I let Chub straighten them out about such matters
and they finally agree we can play the winning team. Chub goes, "That's the
spirit, Bill!" I don't know which one is, Bill.

Well obviously, we'll need to add someone in order to be a four-man team
and Chubby takes care of that by recruiting a freckled-faced, buzz-cut,
redheaded kid who looks to be about fourteen. The kid was with his family
just walking by. He tells his parents to, "Just keep walking, I'll fuckin'
see you all later." The mother and father are chuckling as though they're
used to the redhead being obnoxious like that. I frown at Chub because that
was really fresh-mouth of that kid, but Chub mumbles, "No, that's actually
encouraging. An aggressive teammate, ya know?"

Anyway the kid tells us his name is Baby and Chub goes, "Baby?" and the kid
says, "Yeah, B.A.B.Y., Baby." Chub shrugs and goes, "Well, Baby, how old
are you?" He tells us, "I'm mother-fucking-sixteen, why?" Huh, he sure
doesn't seem as shy as some sixteen-year-old guys would be with complete
strangers. He's skinny but with a mouth on him you wouldn't believe. Yeah,
as we're waiting for the end of the game that's being played it's
mother-fucker this and mother-fucker that... and he's not trying to be
funny either. That's apparently the way he normally converses.

When we're playing the winners of the first game Robby, Chub, and I get to
laughing so hard we almost pee our swimsuits listening to Baby yelling
'mother-fucker' every ten-seconds. Soon the three of us are all adding some
mother-fucker-comments of our own, and because of the laughing we almost
lose the game. Baby though is a super athlete flying all over the place and
he won't let us lose. We finally do beat the four girls on the other team
by a score of: 23 to 25. And they weren't shy about saying the F-bomb
either.

Anyway, the original group who put up the net want to play us now. Four
college guys, who I assume are the girls' boyfriends and all who very well
might qualify as nerds... if one were being overly critical that is. We
play that game and a re-match game after they lose. It goes on for an
hour-or-so and by then we're sweating like, um, mother-fuckers, so Chub,
Rob, and I cool off in the ocean. Baby tells us to go fuck ourselves and
takes off up the beach. The three of us can't stop laughing about Baby and
then realize we're close to Gregory's Bar... and cold beers is an excellent
idea.

Coming out of the ocean we're without towels so we walk around drying in
the sun while Chub and I tell Rob about the patio on the beach at Gregory's
Bar. It's where Chub and I had beers when we first arrived. We all agree
some cold beers is a good idea and we walk there while finishing to dry
off. We don't have shirts but we'll deal with that when we need too.

Walking toward the patio bar I'm thinking there's something we're
forgetting and then go, "Stop!" Rob and Chubby stop to look at me and I go,
"Duh, we don't have any money with us." Chubby goes, "We don't need money,"
and he pulls his plastic debit card out of his swim suit pocket. Rob goes,
"You hot shit, Jeff!" and I just nod as we start walking again because I
should have known Chubby would have a solution to the no-money situation.

A few cold beers will hit the spot, plus the patio is of special interest
to Chubby because he has a second date tonight with Carla, who of course is
the waitress he had a date with our first night here. The only vacant able
on the patio at Gregory's Bar is outside the awning section in the blazing
sun, but we're all wearing sunglasses so we take seats at the table and
wait for a waitress. Shocking that this place is crowded... not! Chub says,
"Did I tell you guys the joke about the old couple, both
seventy-eight-years-old, who went to a therapist's office and asked that
the therapist watch them fuck?" Rob and I exchange 'looks' chuckling, as I
mumble, "No, I don't believe I've heard that one."

Chub's leaning over to two girls at the table next to ours with his smile
as he bums a cigarette from a chunky girl who he calls, "Gorgeous,"
although she's the opposite of that adverb. Lighting the cigarette, Chub
goes, "Well, the joke. Obviously the doctor or therapist, whatever he's
called, was puzzled by the old couple's request, and asks 'Have sex, you
mean? You want me to watch you have sex?" Rob and I are already chuckling
at the preposterous premise.

Chub's like, "First of all the Doc doubts they can even do it, but being a
professional he covers his mouth while snickering at the two old
timers. The old couple are nodding their heads enthusiastically with the
old guys saying, "Yes, we want to fuck in your office if that's alright."
The doctor shrugs and mutters, "Okay, I guess," but then gets his senses
back and tells them he'll obviously need to charge them for his time. The
Doc's assuming they want him to tell them what they're doing wrong. The old
timers strip down to totally nakedness making the Doc cover his mouth
again, but this time to stifle a gag."

Rob and I are laughing out loud already as Chubby continues, "Well,
bare-assed as the day they were born the old-timers get into a rather
energetic fucking taking turns being on top and then the old fellow, saggy
skin flapping, fucks the old lady doggy style with lots of shrill screams
and at one point the old lady's set of top false teeth is bouncing along
the carpet and a second sex joins the first during the screeching from both
of them when they climax together after like ten-minutes of hard
fucking. The Doc's eyes are bugging out of his head of course. After some
heavy breathing the two super-seniors get dressed and get their teeth off
the floor acting as if nothing was especially unusual about any of
this. The doctor's flabbergasted and finally only charges them
fifty-dollars for the ten-minutes of his time. He's thinking he has an
awesome story to tell the guys at the club."

Rob and I continue snickering at Chub's way of embellishing a joke and
telling it in a serious manner as if it's a real life event. He starts to
go on but a waitress comes over interrupting. Chub looks at her and goes,
"Hello. Um, where's our regular waitress, Carla?" This waitress, while
wiping the table, says, "This isn't her station, hon." Chub gives this
older woman some shit about wanting his 'girlfriend' as our waitress, but
this one, Dottie, isn't taking any shit today apparently and says, "Look
buster, if you boys want drinks, I'll need to see some ID first and then
you'll get the drinks from me or you can hit the road, okay?" Chub goes,
"Well, Dottie, it's not okay at all! I'll tell you why, hon. You're simply
too grumpy and my brother," as he points a finger at me, "Is the nervous
type and he gets upset around grumpy people." She goes to say something but
snorts out a laugh instead because of the big grin on Chubby's faced and
the way he said that. She turns around and goes, "Carla, I believe these
guys belong to you."

Carla, with the tiny tight tits and cute ass, looks over and chuckles while
nodding her head, saying, "Yeah, I better handle that table, Dottie. I'll
be there in a minute, boys." Chub says to the older waitress, "Thank you,
Dottie. Ya know what, next time maybe we'll insist on you being our
waitress." She goes, "Oh goodie," and sashays away.

Chub goes back to his joke. "So these old sex-fiends come back every week
to fuck for ten-minutes with the doctor watching. Finally after the
fifth-time, he asks, "Just exactly what are you trying to find out? What am
I'm supposed to be helping you with?" Getting dressed, the old duffer,
still sporting an eight-inch erection, says, "Oh, we're not trying to find
out anything, sonny-boy. It's like this: she's married and so am I. We
can't fuck at either of our houses and the Holiday Inn charges $85 for a
room and the Hilton charges $120. We can do it here for the fifty-bucks,
so..." And the old lady croaks, "And I get $43 back from Medicare each time
we give you the fifty-dollars."

Rob and I laugh out loud attracting some gawking 'looks' from those around
us but I'm getting used to that by now. As our laughter winds-down Carla
comes over and 'cards' Rob while Chubby flirts with her. She takes our
order for beers and an order of chicken wings and then says, looking at
Rob, "Jeez, Delaware sure produces an awful lot of cute guys. What's in the
water down there?" Off she goes as Rob mutters, "Delaware?" and I explain
that's where Chubby told her we live.

We stay for three beers and then walk back to our spot on the beach and
chill out for a while. Later we're talking with the Moms and guys about
tonight's dinner that Chub and I insist we're buying. After the obligatory
arguing about 'You boys don't need to buy us dinner... blah, blah, blah...'
we insist and discover they're all tired of fish and seafood. I forgot they
had two additional night here before Chub and I arrived so that's five
dinners in a row they've ordered some kind of fish for dinner. What can we
do except agree to have steaks on the grille, so I guess we are going to be
cooking on vacation after all. Well, the twins cooked the first night we
were here so now Chub and I will get to use that awesome built-in grill on
the deck.

The beers and the sun conspire to get us guys feeling little tired so the
three of us take naps, Robby and me on a blanket under the umbrella and
Chubby dozes off in his beach chair. After that we go for long swim in the
ocean and then we're collecting all the stuff we brought to the beach
eight-hours ago and lugging it back to the house. It seems to be a longer
journey going back than it did this morning when we were on our way to the
beach.

Rob and I shower together while the other five are on the deck drinking gin
and tonics. My boyfriend is a planner and as such he has the foresight to
bring lube into the shower with us. We can't wait, so before we shower, and
with water pouring down on us, we fuck right away. Me up against the shower
stall wall with Rob doing all the heavy lifting and for like five minutes
I'm ecstasy experiencing a hard, almost desperate sex fucking. Awesome
although I sense it wasn't quite as desperate as the first two sex acts Rob
and I had yesterday... so we're catching up.

Sex makes showering so much more interesting and for me there's nothing
better than feeling a hard cock humping my ass. In this case it's Rob's
hard cock so it simply doesn't get any better than that for me. Our
climaxes are almost simultaneous which we interpret as a sign we're
catching up quickly on the sex we missed last week. Pulling his cock out
Robby gasps, "Holy fuck, summer vacations really rock, Dylan!" I go, "See
what you been missing! It's the shore that gets people extra horny."

We're both snickering a little at that ludicrous statement because we're
just as horny at home. After the sex we wash each other slowly and sexily
and then we get silly with too much touching and wind-up doing another hot
fuck which gets be off with a really good orgasm, one that's surprisingly
big considering I just had one fifteen-minutes ago. After re-washing vital
parts of our bodies, we stagger out of the shower and dry ourselves while
exchanging smirks like, 'Ain't it great being us...'

Dressed and feeling fantastic we go downstairs and join everyone on the
deck. Rob, always the 'go-along' kind of guy accepts Tom's offer of a gin
and tonic, which is what everyone else is drinking. I, on the other hand,
don't like that drink so I get another beer. A beer I don't especially
want, but everyone else is drinking so I feel I should too.

Huh, I wonder if peer pressure counts if some of it, even unintentionally,
is coming from your Mom and her boyfriend? Probably not, it's probably just
in my head. Fuck peer pressure though; I consider having this beer as me
being sociable' and not making everyone else feel uncomfortable,
like... 'What do you suppose is wrong with Dylan now?' That's exactly the
kind of thing I want to avoid, so I drink the beer and like it.

Chub takes his shower and then after that Rob, Chub, and I go food
shopping. We buy six, three-quarter-pound, Angus Beef New York Strip Steaks
for $88, sweet corn on the cob that supposedly was picked this morning,
baby Bliss potatoes to boil and serve with butter and parsley, plus a salad
of farm fresh tomatoes and cucumbers. Plus we stop at a 'package' store and
buy two bottles of Chappellet Pritchard Hill (Napa Valley) Cabernet
Sauvignon, 2013 vintage, at $70 a bottle to go with dinner... and back at
the house the three of us cook the meal too! Chub and I split the
cost. Robby tries to chip-in but because he bought that big lunch the other
day Chub and I refuse his money. This meal we feel is a tiny, partial,
pay-back for all the twins have done for us this vacation.

What with one thing or another we don't eat until almost nine-thirty so,
even with the late pizza lunch, we're all hungry. What can I say, the meal
is fantastic!  Chub is late for his date with Carla so Rob and I do all the
after-dinner-clean-up while Chub takes off, saying, "I owe you boys," and
he's gone. After cleaning everything like new I ask Rob, 'Do you wanna try
a Wildwood club, have a couple of beers, and maybe do some dancing?" He
shrugs and goes, "Would you think I'm creepy if I wanted to do all the
Boardwalk stuff again tonight?"

That's what we do. Until the Boardwalk shuts-down for the night we go on
the rides and even play some of the sucker games on the midway knowing
full-well there's a better chance of us winning Massachusetts'
ten-million-dollar lottery than a stuffed animal in one of these
games. Then there's a batting cage in which Rob wows the crowd with his
batting prowess, and later we're eating junk food and having an awesome
time. In the back of my mind, and I hope his, is the fact we still have a
lover's reunion sex 'card' we haven't played yet.

to be continued...

     Donny Mumford     thinat20@yahoo.com      donnymumford@outlook.com

I

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

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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