Date: Fri, 3 Nov 2017 21:37:41 -0400 From: Bill Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR SUMMER Chapter 9 DYLAN'S SUMMER FOLLOWING HIS COLLEGE JUNIOR YEAR Chapter 9 by Donny Mumford Chubby and I each have a slice of the mushroom pizza he brought home for our dinner. The rest of the pizza goes on the middle rack of a preheated oven to keep the remaining slices hot. As we eat Chubby tells me about his first four days at work. Like my first couple of days Chubby was also in a training program. Coincidentally we both basically need to talk through most of our work days with me explaining the same thing over and over to each employee of Dickers and Son, Inc. and Chubby answers phone calls as a replacement for different employees of DiPietro & Costello Insurance Agency who will be on vacation throughout the summer. Where I only need to repeat the same thing over and over Chub needs to handle customer complaints or requests for changes on insurance policies including: Auto, Fire, Homeowners, Life, Business Insurance, and Annuities. Good thing he has the gift of gab. That's a weird word right there... 'gab'. Chub says he has a list of people he can transfer customers to if he doesn't feel he can handle their problem(s). That sounds to me like what happens when you call most companies and talk with a computer that tries to solve simple problems and, when it can't, it sorts out where the call should be directed. Bottom line, my job is simpler, but more boring. We eat the whole pizza exchanging our initial summer job experiences. Chubby, ha ha, wants me to introduce him to the blond-headed flirt, Eileen. When we finish the pizza, we get ready to visit Rob. Chub goes up to his condo to clean up and I do the same thing here making sure to brush my teeth and gargle in preparation for sneaking in a get-well kiss for the sick boy. Chub's back in my condo ready to go as I'm fiddling with my hair. He watches me for a minute and then says, "Bro, it looks fine. Why do you keep re-combing it?" I give him an annoyed 'look' and he chuckles, muttering, "Oh, it's doesn't look fine?" After another thirty-seconds he goes, "Ya know what? I need a haircut so how about it, bro?" Satisfied with my hair for now, but still a little frustrated I can't get the hairs at the crown to lie over, I mutter, "How about Saturday, Chubby. For your haircut I mean." The hairs at the crown of my head are still too short to lay over. Robby promised not to cut those hairs so short next time, or did he? I think we left it at: me admitting I liked the haircut and Rob mumbling, 'Good, I'll do it the same way next time.' He said something like that. When I call the Dickers' house Mrs. Dickers answers and I'm like, "Hi, this is Dylan. Is this a good time to visit Rob?" She tells me he's waiting for me and adds that four guys visited Rob earlier this afternoon but they left quite a while ago. She doesn't say who they were but I'm guessing it was probably Danny and some ballplayers. I ask, "Ready to go, Chub?" and he's like, "Yep. Do you wanna drive?" I nod that I do and as we go out the front door I remind Chubby, "I get the Jeep for work next week." He goes, "I know, it's your turn all week." Hmmm, I wonder if I even want to drive next week. I'm thinking about Ryan, my bus-buddy, so I say, "I'll tell you what, Chub. It's probably better that I continue taking the bus for another week. I wanna get real familiar with my morning routine." He tosses me the keys when we're at the curb. "You sure, Dylan? My bus will drop me off two short blocks from the office, so I don't mind taking the bus." I go, "Wait! No, I forgot something. I do need the Jeep to visit Rob after work next week." He shrugs, "Sure thing, bro." Jeez, my bus-buddy will probably be relieved that he'll have a week's break from me... ha ha. We get in the car and I start the engine and then look at the gas gauge, exclaiming, "Chubby, we're on empty!" He looks over and says, "I'll be dammed. We should probably stop for gas then." I go, "No shit. And you're paying for it," and off we go. Chub drives until there's like only gas fumes left in the tank. Well, there's a BP gas station a mile down Center Street that I mostly use because there's an attendant who pumps the gas for you. Self-service gas stations blow. My Mom says that during my grandparent's time all gas stations pumped the gas for you and cleaned your windshield too. Whenever I need to pump the gas myself I insist on a gas station that takes my debit card at the pump. I hate the stations with someone behind a thick glass barrier and you need to pay before pumping. What the hell are they afraid of? We get the tank filled and Chub pays with a card, saying, "That card I used right there, brother, is my first credit card." I'm like, "You've got a credit card?" He goes, "Yep, the bank was dumb enough to offer me a credit card so I took it. I'm aiming to start building a good credit rating so we can buy our next car with an automobile loan instead of waiting to save up for it." I say, "Spending above a person's means is a rampant problem in America, Chub, and in the rest of the world too for all I know. Americans are in credit card debt to the tune of 747 billion dollars and interest rates are absurdly high." Chubby goes, "How the hell do you know that?" I go, "I read stuff online." He says, "Well, so far I've only added $37 to American's credit card debt and it's only a temporary $37 debt because I intend paying the bill in-full when it comes in the mail." On the road again, I go, "I gotta admit that car loan idea of yours sounds pretty cool. What make of car are you thinking we should buy?" He shrugs, "I haven't got that far along yet. Only got the credit card in the mail Tuesday. Today was the first time I used it." Hmmm, I wonder why I didn't get offered a credit card? At Rob's house, we see both the Dickers' cars parked in the driveway along with Robby's pickup. No other cars though so that's good; no one else is here. We knock at the back door and Mr. Dickers answers still wearing his suit from work. He goes, "Hello, boys. C'mon in." We mutter, "Thanks," and walk inside where Mr. Dickers asks me, "How do you think the interviews for the new benefit package are going so far, Dylan?" I say, "Wonderfully, everyone's really excited about the new benefits." A humongous exaggeration, but I wanna think positively. He pats my shoulder smiling, and adds, "Bill Baxter had some nice words to say about you, and especially about the presentation you gave him the other day." I'm like, "In hindsight maybe I didn't need to insist on that presentation. Ya know, since he put benefits package together and all, but my goal is to be able to say I made the presentation to one-hundred percent of the employees." Mr. Dickers looks like he wants to chuckle, but instead says, "No, you were right. Bill was impressed that you insisted, and so am I." I shrug feeling my face get a little warm as Chub smiles, saying, "Dylan's a stickler for following the rules." Mr. D. pats my shoulder, "Go on up and see your friend. I won't keep you any longer." Rob's father has this way of subtly telling you to get lost. Not in a rude way though. It's more like, 'Run along now. We're through here.' I noticed he did it just now, and he did it at the hospital last night too. Fine by me, I'm always happy to be on my way. Adults aren't usually a lot of fun although Chub's and my Mom are excluded from that. Well their boyfriends can be excluded too; they're usually kinda fun to do stuff with and the twins pay for whatever it is we're doing. So, ya know... Going up the steps, I'm like, "A stickler for the rules, huh Chub?" He goes, "Our rules, bro, yours and mine." I mutter, "Oh yeah, that's different." We go into Rob's bedroom and see he's sitting up in bed with a pillow behind his back watching the Red Sox game on TV. He looks pale and tired and there are whiskers here and there on his face that he normally shaves. Chub and I stand next to the bed unsure what's the proper thing to do when visiting a sick person. Rob smiles a really nice smile, saying, "Hey, guys! Thanks for visiting." I give a little wave and smile back at him. " Chub goes, "This is a painfully obvious question, but one I feel I should ask: how the fuck you feeling, Rob?" Robby chuckles and goes, "I'm tired and sore. It's pathetic but I needed to take a nap after Danny and some of the guys who were here a couple of hours ago left." I nod as Chubby asks, "Hey, can I use your bathroom? I need to drain the dragon," and he looks for a door to a bathroom. Rob goes, "Yeah, but I don't have my own bedroom. The bathroom is at the end of the hall. My parents have a private bathroom but Dodger and I, and overnight guests," as he grins at me, "Need to share the hall bath." Chubby mutters, "That's barbaric," as he walks out. We chuckle and then I get Rob's face between my hands to give his lips a sloppy kiss. Rob does a weak hug, murmuring, "Everything I do hurts, babe." I rub his hair, "Poor Robby." Surprising me, I notice Rob has a slightly unwashed smell coming from under the sheets. And then he must see something in my expression because he says, "I'm not supposed to take a shower until at least forty-eight hours after the surgery." I go, "No, I didn't mean... um, you smell fine to me," and to prove it I go around to the other side and climb up on his double bed next to him, arranging a pillow behind my back like he has. He smiles, "Thanks for coming, babe," and he squeezes my arm, "It's nice to see you." I go, "You too," and Chub comes back, saying, "Nice shower curtain in there." Rob and I do a little laugh because it's the funny way Chubby says things and it's a goofy thing to say in the first place. Chub sits in Rob's desk chair on wheels and pushes with his feet to get near the bed and then props his untied-sneakers up on the mattress, asking, "Can we see your incision?" Rob goes, "No, I'm supposed to leave the bandage on for a couple of days at least. There's two incisions although I haven't even seen them yet myself." He gently touches low on the right side of his belly, mumbling, "My stomach feels swollen and it's sore as a bitch and the incisions probably look gross." I ask, "What was it like waiting for surgery?" and he says, "They gave me a shot of something that dulled the pain and made me wicked groggy. The one doctor thought it might be a kidney stone, but I hardly remember anything after that shot the nurse gave me." Naturally we continue talking about his operation. We're curious about it since neither Chub nor I have ever gone under the knife. I ask, "How long do you need to stay in bed?" He shrugs, "I walked from the car to my bedroom this afternoon and got stupidly tired from doing that. I was barely able to get in my PJ's and I've been here in bed ever since. I mean except for the time I tried taking a crap without success. I can't, you know, bare down or anything." Chub goes, "Ya know what, Rob, that's right on the borderline of TMI." I go, "Chubby! He's just had an operation!" Chubby acts properly chastised until he grins at me, saying, "Please don't yell at me, Dylan." I mumble quietly, "I wasn't yelling," and we both snicker for reasons unknown. He just makes me laugh. Rob says, "I'm supposed to walk a little each day; and each day walk a little more than the day before." I ask, "What are you taking for pain?" and he shrugs, "Just Tylenol. The doctor didn't give me a prescription for anything. It's weird but I've got this pain in my shoulder too. Mom and I thought that was odd so she called the doctor and he said shoulder pain is not uncommon after Laparoscopic surgery, but didn't explain why." Chub asks, "Does it hurt all the time?" Rob goes, "It's sore all the time, yeah. So far anyway, but I was just operated on yesterday, so..." He tells us that since it was Laparoscopic surgery he should have a quicker recovery period then if they did it the other way; just slice him open, I assume is the other way. He says he should be fully recovered somewhere in a week-to-three-week timeframe. Then he'll be able to do pretty much whatever he wants. Now though he's not supposed to lift basically anything and then after that, lift nothing that requires him straining to do the lifting. Huh, that doesn't sound too promising from my point of view although he wouldn't really need to lift anything heavier than his dick once the soreness becomes manageable. Just saying... Chub and I tell Rob a little about our summer jobs and Robby goes, "Oh, so Jeff, you're working for that girl's, um, MJ's, father. Do you see her at all?" Chub goes, "Jesus, don't jinx me, Rob! No I haven't seen her so far," and he looks around and then hits Rob's desk with his knuckles, saying, "Knock on wood." I repeat the compliment about my presentations that Rob's Dad gave me when I came in, and Rob goes, "He told me about that too and I told him I wasn't the least bit surprised that you're getting praise already." Chub and I stay and shoot the shit for an hour or so until Rob yawns a couple of times, complaining, "I can't believe how fucking tired I get." Chubby stands and I pat Rob's shoulder, saying, "You need a nap. I'll see you tomorrow after work." As I slide off the bed, he goes, "It's embarrassing feeling so helpless and tired all the time." Chub goes, "No, it's not at all surprising you'd feel like that, Rob. Somebody cut your stomach open and the healing process makes a person tired. Jesus, you wouldn't be surprised if you felt a little tired after getting stabbed in a knife-fight, would you?" Robby grins, "No, probably not. Plus a knife fight would undoubtedly hurt more because I wouldn't be under general anesthesia." We're both chuckling as I stand with Chubby as he's saying, "Well I'm just glad I could put things in perspective for you, Rob." Rob's grinning as he mutters, "Yeah, and now I feel lucky it was an appendectomy and not a knife fight." I mutter, "There ya go. Keep that in mind." Still grinning, we give a wave goodbye to each other and Chub and I go downstairs and out through the kitchen door. On our way, we hear Mr. and Mrs. Dickers talking in another room so we ease the door shut and we're on our way. Outside, Chub asks, "Where do you wanna grab a couple of beers, bro?" I immediately think of that bar Rob and I went to with Danny and Hayden after the movie, so I suggest, "How 'bout McFarlin's Tap? It's a nice place downtown, not too far." Chub goes, "Never heard of it, but okay." We get there with me wondering to myself if maybe I'm hoping to run into Danny or Hayden at the bar? Was that in the back of my mind when I suggested this bar? But then why else would I suggest it if it's wasn't in the back of my mind? If Hayden's there I can ask about lunch Saturday. Hmmm, that might be a little weird though. In any case when we're inside the bar I see neither Danny nor Hayden. We have some beers as Chubby entertains me with aspects of his philosophy of life. After he's has a number of bourbon shots, with me keeping him company for the first shot only, he says, "It's like this my brother. When we're born, we come out all pink and terrified at the bright lights and all the noise. Shortly though we're seeing things differently. We see we're lovingly being cared for by various slaves and so in our undeveloped little naive brains, we think... hey, this shit is all about me! It's all about making me comfortable and cuddling with me and changing my shitty diapers. Well okay then, ain't this awesome! And we continue believing this misconception that the world revolves around us. All we need to do is a little annoying whining and we get our pacifier that we spit out just so our caretaker slave will give us a little more attention. Everything is going along great until things like our baby teeth start coming in and we're like, 'What the fuck is this pain all about and what are these people gonna do about it?' Then later we realize none of the caretaker slaves are surprised we're in pain and they don't seem to be able to do anything about it anyway. And then to make matters worse, as we get older we fall and skin our knees and then we get a cold with a sore throat and snot and everything and we're miserable, finally coming to the realization that.. 'This isn't about me at all! It's every fucking body for themselves here!" Then Chub grabs my arm, saying, "Except for you and me, Dylan. We're here for each other and we always will be." He said it so seriously it startles me. I'm not sure if it's the booze talking or if there's some deeper meaning. I go, "Well yeah, of course. We're the best best-friends and brothers the world has ever seen," and he nods, "Fucking A, bro!" Then he asks the bartender for another shot of bourbon and, after his deep philosophical breakdown of life, I feel obliged to have one with him. We don't stay especially late. I drive us home and we hug in front of my door with Chubby saying, "You're an awesome person, Dylan! Very possibly the most awesome person of all time. The G.O.A.T. awesome person. Don't let anyone ever sell you short and never sell yourself short either." I go, "Okay, Chub, I won't. Um, is there some specific something you're referring to?" He kisses me, "Not yet, Dylan. I'll let you know when there is though," and he starts up the steps with me saying, "Okay, yeah, let me know, Chub." Huh, I'm not sure what that was all about. I'm chalking it up to a contemplative frame of mind like we were in last night, plus Chub's five shots of bourbon. Friday morning arrives with a whimper and a slight hangover-headache. Hmmm, it was that second and last bourbon shot! Fuck it though, I was with Chubby so it's worth a headache. I take Advil with a glass of OJ thinking about Chubby's comments, but can't make any more sense out of them now than I did last night. Booze-talking probably although I loved the sentiment. After doing my morning bathroom necessities I get dressed and then have a mug of coffee and two bowls of nutritious Fruit Loops for breakfast. I'm at the bus stop on time and, after an annoying couple of minutes listening to the fat-ass lady talking loudly to someone named Neal on her cellphone, I'm on the bus sitting next to my bus-buddy, Ryan. He gives me a sad little grins this morning while holding out his smallish fist. I bump it with my larger fist, saying, "Yo, Ryan, how ya doing this morning?" He goes, "Oh, I'm okay, I guess. How 'bout you?" Nodding, I go, "I'm dealing with a little hangover this morning. Yeah, I was out drinking with my brother last night. Not real late though, so I'm kinda surprised I have this throbbing headache and a feeling I might hurl any second now." He moves closer to the window, muttering, "Jesus! Don't throw-up on me." I chuckle, "I was exaggerating a little bit, Ryan. I feel pretty good actually. Friday's are good days because the weekend is just around the corner." Even though he gave me sort of a grin, Ryan seems to be worried about something. I'm very perceptive to that kind of thing with my friends. He looks at me with those big shiny dark brown eyes, asking, "Is your brother older than you?" I go, "No, he's like a couple of minutes younger?" He squints his eyes, "Er, you mean a couple of years younger, don't you? And, um, how does he get served in a bar?" I go, "No, we're both twenty-one and we'll both be twenty-two in August." Shaking his head, he complains, "You're always bull-shitting me. Unless you're twins it isn't possible for him to be the same age as you. Are you twins?" I go, "Nah, why would you ask that?" Another shake of his head in disgust with a muttered, "Bull-shitter," and he looks out the window. I stare at him thinking...I'd really like to feel those pouty bow-shaped lips of his on mine! His skin is so perfect too, but wait, I ask, "Hey, Ryan, did you shave this morning? Your soft dark-haired baby mustache is missing." He takes a deep breath, mumbling, "How do you know exactly what to say to makes me feel self-conscious? And would you please turn off that music. I hate rap music." I turn off my cellphone and say, "Me too, but that one's alright. Oh, and I'm sorry I made you feel self-conscious." He shrugs and I go, "I've got some terrible news for you, Ryan." With a worried frown on his face he looks at me and I go, "Yeah, I'll be driving to work all next week. I can't be your bus-buddy next week. Ya see, my brother and I share a car. Well, it's a Jeep actually." He asks, "So you're saying I'll have peace and quiet on my way to work next week?" I go, "Nooo! I'm saying don't be too disappointed 'cause it's only a week." I can't tell from his expression how he feels about that. We don't say anything for like two minutes but I'm determined to outlast him again with the silent treatment, which is wicked hard for me to do normally. He finally takes another deep breath and says, "My Dad got laid off from his job yesterday, um, permanently. The company is down-sizing, and I feel really bad for him. Why did they choose him to down-size with, ya know?" I go, "I'm sorry to hear that, Ryan. What's your dad do?" He shrugs, "He was a buyer for Sears. Men's clothing, although I don't know exactly what that entails." I go, "Sears, huh? Jeez, I'm sorry to tell you this but Sears is down-sizing in a major fucking way by closing a couple hundred Sears stores across America. It's no reflection on your dad." He looks at me, asking, "How do you know that?" I shrug, "Read it on Yahoo. I read lots of stuff there. Mostly sports and science related articles but some business stuff too." He mutters, "Mister businessman." Gee, I feel bad for him and his family, but I can't think of anything else to say that might cheer him up. That's pretty serious; his dad losing his job. I don't tease Ryan about anything else the remainder of the bus ride and when we get off the bus I give his shoulders a hug, saying, "I'll bet it'll work out okay for your Dad, Ryan." He doesn't object to me touching him, for once. He murmurs, "Thanks, Dylan, I hope you're right. See ya a week from Monday, I guess," and he walks on his way. Hey, that's the first time he said my name. I watch him go as I'm wondering if he has friends... and if he ever has any fun. Huh, ya just never know, do you? The morning turns out to be a bitch with a few confrontational interviews, and for no good reason. Some people are simply stupid. I'm sorry, but it's true. If the average IQ in America is about 95 and the highest IQ is about 180 that means there's a shit-load of people under the average, some severely under to balance out the 180 IQ people. That's just the fact of the matter. My question is, how did so many individuals with under average IQ's get hired by this company, and in their Accounting Department no less? Not a place you'd especially want dummies I wouldn't think. I could have taken a superior approach to these morons, but I decided that would make me one of the dummies too, so I didn't lose my cool and instead patiently re-answered their dumb-ass questions about something I just explained in simple terms two times already. And I did it without inferring they're dumb-asses. In every case, they eventually signed the card and left with a thank you for me. I said, in every case, but I only got through four employees all morning because each one took so long. Yeah, and my face hurts from forcing it to smile so much when what I wanted to do is yell, 'You dumb fuck! I just explained that to you in a manner a five-year-old would understand'. Well, I was warned that some employees would be suspicious that they were somehow getting screwed with this new benefit package. I doubted that would happen though because it's so obviously superior to the old benefit package but this morning proved that the warning was justified, to my chagrin. By lunch break I don't even feel like eating lunch. I go outside for some fresh air and to clear my head. After a smoke and a good talking to, talking to myself that is, I feel better about things and I'm able to eat two sandwiches and a bag of potato chips along with a large Coke and a piece of vanilla cake. The talking to myself was about me getting paid $500 a week to do this job and Ryan's father being out of work and how he'd jump at the chance to do my job. So, ya know, what am I feeling sorry for myself about? I'm lucky to have this job. I prepare myself for another group of employees challenging my patience but the afternoon Accounting group are much more receptive, so it's a lot smoother going. Around three o'clock I'm taking a break when an Accounting Department supervisor I haven't met before, a black woman named LaToya Brown, stops in to introduced herself and as we shake hands, she says, "I had to meet you, Dylan. You're getting compliments from some of my more, um, challenging staff members and I just wanted to tell you thank you. Some of my employees, ones you met this morning specifically, are hard-headed and hard to please. How you got them to feel positive about their benefits is a first. And oh my, on top of everything else you're an extremely good-looking young man, aren't you?" I don't know what to say to that, except to sputter, "Oh, they were all very nice people this morning. They were just into hypotheticals and were definitely interested in understanding each word of every sentence about each of the twenty-two changes. No problem and, um, and thanks for the compliment. That's, ah, very encouraging to hear." She smiles, "Oh no, Dylan, I know they're not all nice, but they are good at what they do so I put up with some of their negativity. Um, how old are you anyway?" I go, "Twenty-one, why?" She shrugs, "No reason. You're doing a great job. I wanted to tell you that in person in case no one has thought to say that to you. Keep up the good work." I say, "Thank you very much," and she smiles, stares at me for a couple seconds, and then leaves. Huh! Well damn, that was awesome! I don't hate those Accounting people as much now... ha ha. Oh man, compliments go a long way with me. Then the last three interviews of the day are easy and after the last one I make a management decision that I deserve to catch the early bus again today, and so that's what I do. I wait until I'm at the bus stop, like I did yesterday, before texting Carl, saying, 'I'm just about to wrap up everything for the week, if that's okay with you'. He texts back, 'Have a good weekend!' Huh, that Carl runs a really tight ship. For Friday night's dinner Chubby and I have Delmonico steaks on the grille, French Fries, Birds Eye's baby white and gold kernel corn, and a salad. Yum! I almost ask about last night but don't because what if Chubby doesn't remember what he said, or what if he feels funny about having said what he said. If he wanted to add more to what he said he'd say so... I'll leave it at that. As we're cleaning-up the kitchen after dinner, he says, "You remember Chris Johnson from high school, right?" I go, "The good-looking black dude whose sister you dated last year?" He goes, "The very one. He's got two tickets to a Red Sox game tomorrow afternoon. The seats are in the Budweiser Pavilion. You know, way up in the rafters in right field where you can sit at a table or the bar." I nod, "You going with him?" Chub's like, "Well yeah! I couldn't pass that up, but why I mention it to you is Chris says he can get these tickets every once in a while, for free because his Dad works for Budweiser. He thinks he can get three tickets next time so would you be interested in going?" I go, "Hell yeah! Of course! Thanks Chub," and then I ask, "What are you doing tonight?" He says, "I have a date with that same Wanda Blake chick I took out last week. Are you going to visit Rob again tonight?" I go, "Yes, and after that I'll probably stay in tonight. I had a hangover this morning." Chubby frowns, asking, "Why, did you drink more when you got home?" I go, "No, of course not. I just don't handle adult beverages as well as you." Chubby leaves to get ready for his date as I try deciding if I want to bother changing clothes. I've still got my tie and work clothes on for some lazy reason. Screw it, I'll wear this to visit Rob and then get in PJ's when I get home and crash in bed. I still don't know if I should call Hayden for lunch tomorrow, or for that matter if he'd even still wants to have lunch with me. After a smoke on the balcony, reliving that short episode with the Accounting supervisor, I realize: Wait a fucking second... who's the dummy now, Dylan? You don't have a ride to Robby's! Dammit! Let me think about this for a minute. Hmmm, I've got Danny Monday's cellphone number so I call him and he goes, "Dylan Newman is calling me? That's a first." I go, "I've called you before, Danny! Whaddaya talking about?" He says, "Yeah, you have. Wassup?" I tell him, "I want to visit Rob but I don't have wheels. Any chance you could give me a lift there and back?" He says, "Of course. I'm glad to do it, Dylan. Um, I don't think I've ever been to your house though. How do I get there?" I tell him and then say I'll be waiting at the curb below the condos. He's leaving his house pretty soon and he told me my condo is basically on his way to Rob's house anyway. He passes it every time he goes to Rob's although he didn't know it's where I live. Hmmm, he said, 'Every time?' That sounds frequent. Anyway he's a good ten minutes away so I wash up and brush my teeth and then look at myself in the mirror. Hmmm, I re-comb my hair and, looking closely, see my very pale skimpy mustache is growing back and ditto for my chin hairs. Without even using shaving cream I wet my face and shave those two places quickly and then go down to wait for Danny. He pulls up and honks his horn idling at the curb on the other side of the street. I should have anticipated that and waited on the other side. At the cross walk I hit the 'walk' button and, to the chagrin of about a hundred drivers, the light accommodates me and they all come to a stop on both sides of the four-lane highway so that little ol' me can saunter across. I get in Danny's dime-a-dozen Camaro bumping fists with him, saying, "I really appreciate this, Danny." He says, "I'm happy to do it. I'd planned on visiting Rob tonight anyway and I'm glad for the company." Danny has thick dark-blond hair cut last by Golden Summers a week or so before final exams. And yes, it's cut in that stupid latest fad style I'm tired of railing about. I'll just say it looks like hell on Danny. When he glances over at me his bright brown eyes seem to sparkle, but then they seem to sparkle when he's not looking at me too. Pretty eyes that remind me of my bus-buddy's eyes. Danny's always has a nice friendly smile that shows off his almost too-perfect super-white teeth. He's at least as good an athlete as Robby too, so he's pretty much the whole package. As he drives I'm glancing at him; doing it sideways thinking he's a damn good-looking guy and realizing, hey, Rob has a better side-sex buddy than I do. Well hell, I don't even have one presently. Danny's pretty much the same size as Rob and myself, except he has wider shoulders. He looks like a jock which is exactly what I thought the first time I met him, which was early in our sophomore year. Rob of course requited himself with Danny at the freshman baseball tryouts but didn't get around to introducing him to me until sophomore year. That was during the strange period when Rob openly admitted Danny was his side-sex buddy. It was a short-lived period that rather quickly dissolved into our 'don't ask, don't tell' period regarding side-sex buddies. That's been the case until recently when Rob and I, without actually talking directly about it, both acknowledged that he and Danny are still active side-sex-buddies. And then I got to meet the strange Hayden, Danny's significant other, or whatever the hell we're calling long-term gay boyfriends nowadays. Hayden's a bit strange but I don't find him off-putting. I think he's kind of interesting actually. He's certainly not shy about being himself, an admirable trait if you ask me. Danny's always been nice to me and maybe even slightly deferential. Not to the degree he's that way with Robby though, which is odd because I'm almost certain Danny's the 'top' in their relationship. There's is not a sub/dom relationship though; I'm pretty sure about that. As he drives Danny tells me about his summer job which is part-time. He works four-hours a day during the week at the counter of a store named 'Framingham Dry Cleaners'. A job his mother got him for the summer. Apparently, his Mom's been dating the owner of the store. He doesn't say if his Mom has a job and I don't ask. It must be kinda hard for Danny since his parent's divorce was finalized. I don't ask about that either. Come to think of it I can't recall another time Danny and I have been together; I mean just the two of us. Well, except for early sophomore year when Rob wanted me to give Danny a haircut which led to Danny and me fucking. It was the one and only time we ever did that and it was during the short totally-open-relationship period Rob and I were going through at the time. Neither Rob, Danny, or I have ever discussed it since then, and so by now it's almost like it never even happened. At Rob's house Mrs. Dickers answers the door and she hugs Danny quickly, asking, "When are you and your Mom coming over to enjoy the pool? It's been too long." Danny says, "Yeah, Mrs. D., we'll have to do that soon. Maybe Mom will bring Steve so you can meet him." I guess Steve is his Mom's boyfriend. Mrs. Dickers says, "Definitely. I'll call her this week and you should bring your friend, um, is it, Hayden? I haven't seen him since last summer." Huh, last summer! She says, "Nice of you and Dylan to visit Robert. He's getting crankier by the minute being cooped-up in his bedroom all day." Danny and I go upstairs as Mr. Dickers walks by with an empty cocktail glass shaking the ice, saying, "Hey boys!" We mutter, "Hi," and continue up the stairs. Rob's sitting in a cushioned arm chair; a club chair I think it's called. He stands and smiles hugging us both briefly, saying, "Thanks for stopping in. I'm going batty in this fucking bedroom." Danny takes a disc out of his shirt pocket, saying, "I brought you something, Rob. This is a killer computer game that'll entertain you for hours." Fuck, why didn't I think to bring something like that! Rob mumbles, "Thank, Danny," and then to me, "Babe, would you do something with Danny's hair. It looks like shit." Danny runs his fingers through his hair, saying, "The last time Dylan gave me a haircut it was a fucking burr haircut. The shortest haircut I've ever had." Oh balls, I was just thinking about that on the way over here. Apparently, Danny and Rob remember the time too because they both get a look in their eyes like, Let's not go there, and Rob sits back down in his chair changing the subject by asking Danny about the summer baseball league. They talk about that for a few minutes and then Danny says, "Hey, why don't you try out for the team, Dylan. Hayden has a good chance of making the team as a relief pitcher. He has a bad-ass change-up." Robby says to me, "Yeah, you should, babe." I make a face, mumbling, "Nah, I'm strictly a sand-lot ball player." I couldn't make the fucking team! What the fuck are they talking about? Those teams are made-up of guys on high school and college baseball teams. I'd much rather we talk more about me giving Danny a haircut. Robby sends Danny downstairs to get us cans of beer and when Danny leaves Rob wiggles his finger at me. I go over and we have an awesome kiss that last half-a-minute and gives me half a boner. Danny's back in a flash with three cans of Miller Lite, saying, "Your Mom wants to know if we'd like her nachos and cheese bowl." Robby goes, "Oh yeah, definitely! Mom makes a great nacho plate with melted Monterey and cheddar cheese that's topped with chive sour cream. Tell her, yes, Danny." That sounds totally gross to me! Danny runs another errand as Robby tells me, "I took an awesome shower a couple of hours ago. Omigod, Dylan, the things we take for granted until we can't do them." I ask, "Didn't your bandage get wet?" He goes, "No, I taped plastic over it like the nurse told me to do before I left the hospital." Danny's apparently staying down there with Mrs. Dickers as she makes the microwave nacho garbage. Hmmm, those two are awfully friendly. After our kiss I stay standing next to Rob with him saying, "I miss sleeping with you and especially miss us making love together, baby." I nod, "Me too, Robby," and we have another kiss with Robby partially standing and then groaning with his hand going to his side as he sits back down, saying, "I can't do anything without it hurting like a mother-fucker. And I'm always worried the stitches will come loose. This really eats shit! Don't have appendicitis, that's my advice." I nod, mumbling, "Okay, I won't." Rob has a tendency to be a bit of a complainer. Danny comes back with a big bowl of nacho chips in a gooey cheese and sour cream mess. Rob and Danny can't eat that shit fast enough while I beg off citing the enormous dinner I had tonight. Danny gets all of us another beer, seemingly okay with being the errand boy. Done the nachos and almost done his second beer, Danny goes, "Damn, I could go for a cigarette right about now." Rob says, "Well, go outside and smoke one then," and Danny asks me, "Do you wanna, Dylan?" I shake my head, "Nah, not right now." We reminisce a little about our junior year at Merrimack and then Danny gets us a third beer. Wiping his finger in the empty bowl for remnants of the cheese mixture, Rob says to both Danny and me, "Um, this is a little awkward and we don't need to discuss it, but I'm fine with you two, um, getting together while I'm incapacitated like this." Danny and I both look uncomfortable and Rob mutters, "Or not. Suit yourselves. I'm gonna be out of commission for at least two weeks I'm afraid, so just saying...." I assume Danny feels as awkward as I'm feeling because he changes the subject completely, saying, "Oh, I meant to tell you guys. My Mom read on the Merrimack website that they've started construction on an enormous new academic building to replace Rogers Hall, which will be torn down next summer and another new construction on that site." Rob goes, "For all the good that'll do us. Some of those really old class room and lecture halls smell funny; it's about time they're replacing them." We talk about our Merrimack experiences until, like my last visit, Robby starts yawning. Danny and I get the message and get up to leave promising to be back tomorrow afternoon. We both do what amounts to shoulder hugs and a quick little kiss with Rob. He can't really exert any pressure for a real hug though. Robby thanks us for the visit and then Danny and I make our way out. Before we're even out of the bedroom Rob's getting in bed. It's eight-thirty so that was a good visit. I'm carrying the empty bowl and two empty beer cans while Danny's got the other four beer cans as we go downstairs. Mrs. Dickers is sipping on a cocktail of some kind, maybe gin and tonic, as she wipes inside the microwave. Danny tells me, "The recycled cans go in here, Dylan," and he points to a closet door. Mrs. Dickers says, "I'm so glad you had a nice long visit with Rob. He's so restless and anxious to be over this." We leave without Danny and Mrs. Dickers getting into another hug-fest, and me wondering how Danny knows where the Dickers' recycle bin was. In the car Danny asks, "You wanna grab a couple beers someplace? It is a Friday night, so..." I go, "Yeah, sure," although I don't really. He starts the engine and then we idle in front of the house while Danny takes out his cellphone, saying, "Just wanna see if Hayden might care to join us." I hear him say, "Hey, babe, it's me. I'm with Dylan and we just left Rob. Now we're heading over to McFarlin's Tap to pound down a few beers and..." He listens, then says, "Yeah, okay. See ya later." As he puts his phone away, he tells me, "Hayden's out with a couple of his swisher friends getting hammered at a club in Boston. One of the gay clubs." I ask, "Do you hit the gay clubs much yourself?" He shakes his head, "Nope, they're too gay for me. Hayden on the other hand..." and he chuckles adding, "Well, let him have his fun, ya know?" He didn't say, 'I' before, 'let him have his fun', but that's what he meant. For the second night in a row I'm in McFarlin's Tap getting carded by the same bartender who carded me last night. Danny gets carded too even though he's in here a lot. We get drafts of Miller Lite since that's what we were drinking at Rob's place. I'm not sure how I feel about the way Danny appears to be very friendly and familiar with Mrs. Dickers, and I'm kinda curious about the way he just assumed it was his job to run up and down the stairs getting our beers and snacks. What's it mean... if anything? Maybe when Rob's with Danny he's bossy the way I thought I wanted Rob to act with me until recently. That would be fucking ironic alright. Danny buys the first round and we talk about Rob. He's the primary topic we have in common; Rob and Merrimack College. For the second round, I ask, "Ya want a shot of bourbon or something to go with your beer, Danny?" He goes, "Oh man, I suck at drinking shots, Dylan. I'm a pussy when it comes to that so I'll take a raincheck, but thanks anyway. Don't let me stop you though, go ahead and get one for yourself if you want." Huh! I go, "I don't fuckin' like shots either but I thought I was the only one who didn't. Hell, I've seen girls pounding down shots and, like you said, I feel like a pussy for not being able do that shit. With the right amount of peer pressure I can gag one down occasionally, although I'd rather not." We talk about some of our funnier individual drinking experiences and during our third beer here, our sixth counting the three we had at Rob's, Danny asks, "What do you think about what Rob said, um, about him being out of commission for a couple of weeks, and you and me, um, you know..." I nod while making a face, trying to think what to say to that. I finally mutter, "You and I did it before you know." He goes, "Of course I know! Hard to forget your puss, um, ass." He called my ass a pussy when he fucked me that time and I didn't even care because it was an excellent fuck. His cock is pretty good at about seven-inches. Jesus, I just remembered something; Hayden claimed his dick is bigger than Danny's! I don't know though, it seems wrong somehow to jump in the sack with Danny right after Rob just about invited Danny and I to have buddy-sex. Are we that immaturely horny? Danny sees I'm not saying anything so he goes, "No pressure, Dylan. I'm sorry I kinda put you on the spot like that." I shrug, "Um, no, it's not that, Danny. Maybe not tonight though, ya know? Ah, but I remember our rather fast experience back early in our sophomore year and it was, ya know, pretty fucking hot and all." He says, "I've often wondered what you thought about it. I mean considering you never so much as hinted you'd like a repeat performance." Shrugging and feeling strangely uncomfortable again, I go, "Oh, it wasn't that I didn't like it. It's just that I hardly ever initiate, um, doing it with anyone. I don't know why exactly, but that's sort of the situation." He goes, "You mean if I had suggested we do it again, you would have?" I go, "I don't know, maybe. It depends on... oh I don't know... whatever. That was two years ago." Danny doesn't have anything to say to that, which isn't surprising since I don't even know what I meant myself, so obviously there's no way he could know. After a minute or so, he touches my arm and lightens up the conversation by chuckling and saying, "Well, how about a haircut anyway. Rob said my hair looks like shit, which is almost a compliment compared to what Hayden said about it last night." I go, "Jesus, Hayden has balls criticizing anyone's hair! He has a lady's hairdo. Anyway, yeah I'd be happy to give you a haircut, um, any kind you want. Tomorrow okay?" He nods, "Yeah great, I'll text you." We're quiet again until he says, "What would you think if I got Hayden to join us?" I'm a little slow on the uptake, and ask, "For a haircut? Hayden's got those long curls that I'm surprised he'd want cut." Danny laughs a little, saying, "I meant would you be more inclined to engage in some playful buddy-sex if it wasn't just you and me. Maybe just the two of us makes you uncomfortable, so we could invite Hayden to join us." I go, "Oh, I thought you meant. Um, it's not that I'm uncomfortable with you, Danny. Ah, it's just that, I don't know, doing it right after Rob suggested it seems, um, like we're desperate or something." He's kind of excited, "So you will consider doing it, like maybe tomorrow? You know, as long as Hayden's involved. Maybe after my haircut, and no, Hayden won't let anyone cut his hair." I nod, "Yeah he told me I was getting him in trouble by letting Rob give me haircuts." Danny chuckles, "Yep, I told him I was gonna be like Rob and give him haircuts. Poor Hayden wouldn't say no to me but he pouted something awful. And I was only kidding him for chrissakes." I barely listened to that because, holy shit, maybe there's a three-way sex-a-thon in my future! When was my last one? Can't remember... and I really liked the way Danny put it saying we could have some playful buddy-sex. That's the right attitude for it; playful buddy-sex. Yeah, and why not! I say, "Let's talk about buddy-sex tomorrow, Danny, after we have a night to sleep on it." He goes, "Sure, great." Hmmm, maybe Danny's another one like Rob and me... slightly over-sexed. He sure seems eager. Danny buys us another round and I'm beginning to realize that while I'm not a great boozer, Danny's worse. He's closer to Rob in that neither of them can hold their liquor very well, hard liquor or beer. Taking advantage of that situation, I ask him how he and Rob met? Danny doesn't hesitate, saying, "It was mostly because of my persistence actually. Jeez, Dylan, you wouldn't believe how shy Rob was in high school; even as a senior." Oh yes I would. He says, "Not on a baseball diamond though. That was very different. Rob was mister-take-fucking-charge on the diamond. Then in the locker room his confident attitude began disappearing quickly and outside the locker room it was ultra-shy-Rob all over again. It was fascinating to watch actually." I nod, "Uh huh, but how'd you two actually get together?" He burps making a 'face', and then says, "Like I said; it was me! I had to be the guy pushing a relationship and then I finally took Rob's cherry, if you know what that means." Duh, who the fuck doesn't know what that means? Danny squeezes my arm, saying, "Hope I'm not talking out of school here. Hey, this is between you and me, right?" I nod, "Yeah, a' course." Maybe he's thinking about what he just said because he's frowning now and then drinking three big swallows of beer. He's a cute mother-fucker, I gotta admit that. I still haven't got much out of Danny and I gotta get it out of him before he's too drunk to be coherent, so I ask, "Did you and Hayden get together before you and Rob did it?" He nods, "Fuck yeah. Hayden and I were probably the youngest gay guys getting laid in Framingham." Hmmm, I'm starting to think he doesn't know about Dodger. Robby and Dodger were probably the youngest gay fuckers in Framingham, or in America for that matter. Be hard to be much younger than those two when they started. I go, "So exactly what'd you say to Robby to get him to come across, so to speak?" He takes a deep breath, muttering, "Jesus, I could use a smoke." After waiting a little bit to see if he's going to answer my last question, I try another tactic, "After this beer we'll catch a smoke outside and then come back for a night-cap." He goes, "Good idea! How many cigarettes do you smoke a day, Dylan?" I mumble, "Half a pack usually. Um, how did you say you got through to Robby?" He shrugs, "Omigod, slowly, my friend. Over like two-or-three-months. I'd talk baseball with him. Omigod, Rob will fucking talk baseball until the fucking lambs come home." I go, "I think you mean, cows." He goes, "What was that about cows?" Shaking my head, I go, "So Rob didn't catch on that you were gay, huh?" He rubs across his mouth, "Nope, not until I asked him what he thought about guys fooling around together? Just for the fuck of it, ya know?" I'm nodding, "Uh huh," and he goes, "Oh man, Rob got this guilty look on his face blushing like mad. It's like he just shit his pants, so I figured I'm on to something here." More likely Rob thought Danny had somehow found out about Dodger and him having sex; that's why he almost shit his pants. I go, "Okay, so that broke the stalemate, huh?" He waves his hand at me, slurring, "No, not until I got the balls to come right out and ask him if I could blow him." He drinks some beer and I'm like, "Yeah, and then..." Danny burps again, mumbling, "Fucking beer, huh? You just rent it. I gotta take a wicked piss." We head for the Men's Room with me asking, "Did he let you?" Danny frowns, "Who let me?" "Did Robby let you blow him?" He looks around, then says, "Keep it down for fuck's sake! Yeah, he let me and it was smooth going from there on. Don't tell him I said this, but he was a natural bottom right off the fucking bat, he never had a problem taking it up his, you know, his ass." In the Men's Room we're pissing with a urinal between us, like it should be done, as Danny says, "Hayden and I though, we had to explore each other slowly from jerking off to jerking each other off and then for weeks threatening to let the other guy suck a dick." Then he yells, "But what the fuck, we were like fourteen fucking years old at the time!" And he just told me to keep my voice down! Shaking his nice-looking dick, he mutters, "Finally I sucked him off, Hayden I mean, and then like a week later he agreed to it and I fucked him a brand-new asshole. It was at a neighborhood cook-out and I thought my dick would fall off. We both almost fainted from our climaxes... ha ha. Holy shit." I go, "Yeah, young sex. I missed out on that." He pats my cheek, "I'm sorry to hear that, babe." He looks in the men's room mirror, mumbling, "And it was off to the races with us two after that. Jesus, this fucking hair of mine! Ha ha, I look like I'm in the fucking circus or something." I zipper-up, saying, "Yeah, we'll fix that tomorrow. So, you and Hayden?" He nods, "Yep, we were the two youngest gay boys in town, Dylan." Huh. I can't respond because a guy comes in smiling, and saying, "We just rent the beer, huh boys?" Danny goes, "Hey, that's what I just told my friend here." Oh, no one's ever heard that one before! Sitting at the bar again, I ask, "So it turned into a three-way with Rob, huh? You, Rob, and Hayden." He shrugs, "I didn't tell you that, did I?" I don't say anything and he goes, "I'm smashed, Dylan," and he laughs a little giving my shoulders a hug, and then slurs, "Three-way with Rob and Hayden, huh? How'd you guess? Heh heh, once in a while, yeah, we did have some good three-ways. Only when we were at his pool though, and of course when his parents were out. Maybe four or five times we'd get it on a three-some, and always in that fucking pool house they have." I go, "Sounds hot, Danny," and he shrugs, "Just a distant memory my friend. That is unless you'd like to join Hayden and me. Did I suggest that? You know, in case you'd feel funny just with me. We could ask Hayden. He'd be honored we thought of him. Oh boy, does he have a big penis." I say, "Jeez, that might be something to think about, a three-way." As Danny's draining his beer glass I'm motioning to the bartender for two more. Danny says, "Ya know what? We can do it like the three of us did it as kids in that fucking pool house. You can play Rob's part if you want to and see some of the shit we did back then. Heh heh, damn! It was hot, let me tell ya! Oh, um, you've been in their pool house, haven't you?" I ignore that for now, saying, "Wasn't Rob's little brother around?" The fresh beers are put in front of us as Danny makes a 'face' and nods, "What? Oh, his brother. Fuck yeah, he was around! He was like gum on Rob's shoe. That little fuck-head was always sneaking around. That's another thing; we couldn't have our three-ways unless that little prick was somewhere else." I go, "Huh," and he gulps some beer, then says, "Dodger. That's his name, and omigod he could swim like a fucking fish. Real wise-ass too! I mean especially for his age, but ya couldn't say anything bad about the little fart because Rob was really protective of Dodger. Ya couldn't say nothing bad about Dodger, and what a fucking brat he was too. He's slip into the water and you wouldn't even know it and the next thing you'd know your fucking swim trucks would all of a sudden be off and he's throwing it the fuck out of the pool giggling like a mother-fucker. And with his freakin' parent at the outdoor table one time." Nah, he doesn't know Dodger's gay or that Dodger and Rob used to fuck all the time. That's interesting. Why wouldn't Robby want his other two fuck-buddies to know his brother was gay. Hmmm, Robby probably didn't care so much about that. What he did care about is that Dodger didn't find out about Danny and Hayden! That's probably it! Danny burps again and goes, "Oh fuck, beer came up in my mouth when I burped. I threw-up in my mouth!" Pushing the beer glass away, he mumbles, "That's it for me. You drank me under the table." I say, "Nah, I'm done too. Let's get that smoke." We both leave at least two-bucks worth of change on the bar for a tip and walk outside. There are no stars out tonight; it looks and feels like rain. We have a smoke leaning against the side of the building with Danny chuckling, and then saying, "Oh gawd, I remember our first three-way. Oh fuck, Hayden was sucking Rob's dick and I was plowing his ass while Rob was doing a friggin' dance and moaning like a cunt in heat." I ask, "Did Hayden have the long curly hair and act real gay back then?" He shakes his head, "Nooo waaay! He had regular length hair and he was as straight-acting as you. We kept it secret about us being gay. Nobody fucking knew. Oh, and Hayden went to prep school and he didn't act all girlie-like there either. He didn't start that shit until he graduated prep school. I don't mind it though. When I'm fucking him I call him my girlfriend and tell him he has a nice pussy. He uses Nair for Men Body Removal. I mean Hair removal around his asshole so there's no hairs there, ya know? Don't tell him I told you that though." I mutter, "Mums the word," and he goes, "What about Mom?" I shake my head, and he says, "Yeah, we've been together, Hayden and me, fucking together since our last year at middle school. He's my neighbor, ya know. Us two were the youngest gay dudes having sex in the whole fucking state... Heh heh, and nobody had a clue neither." I go, "Yeah, you mentioned that." He grabs my arm, sputtering, "I feel like shit." We step on our cigarette butts as Danny does a long yawn which makes me yawn too. He says, "Let's get going, Dylan. Do you mind?" I go, "Nope, I'm tired too." For the first time ever Danny puts his arm around the back of my neck as we walk to the car. He's used to doing that with Hayden I guess and he's drunk enough to let the habit take over his brain. At the car, I ask, "You okay to drive, Danny?" He goes, "Ya know what? I'd feel better if you drove. Drop me off and take the car home with you." I go, "You're sure," as he hands me the keys, "Yeah, I'm sure, babe, er, Dylan. Tomorrow I'll text you and you can drop the car off. Oh, I'm getting a haircut anyway, right?" Hmmm, I'd forgotten about that, but I go, "Yeah, sure." Driving away from the bar I'm thinking, 'Jeez, what a bow-wow Danny's Camaro is!' Danny gives me general directions and then dozes-off during the ride. He's slouching against the passenger door but at least he's wearing a seatbelt. Ha, guess I don't need to take Hayden to lunch now. I don't think there's anything more to tell about their early days, and Hayden doesn't know any more than I do about what Danny and Robby do together because he's not there. It'll be interesting to see how Danny acts tomorrow. Will he remember everything he told me tonight? Hope I'm still 'up' for doing it with him and Hayden when I'm sober. Oh man though, Rob would probably throw-up if he knew Hayden was going to be involved, but why would any of us tell him? I need to wake Danny to get direction to his street once I'm in his general area. He insists he wasn't sleeping, as if I give a shit if he fell asleep. At his house, he takes off the seat belt and leans over for a kiss, so we kiss and he says, "Thanks for driving, babe, um, Dylan. I'll text you when I get up." I say, "Sure thing, Danny. It was fun," and he looks at me, "Yeah, it was, wasn't it? You're a good guy, Dylan." I mumble, "Right back at you, dude," and he gets out of the car. He stumbles a little going up his front walk. Nice house but nothing out of the ordinary. I'd guess it's probably got three bedrooms with two-and-a-half baths. During the ten-minute drive back to my place I sing loudly along with the radio to keep awake, and then park at the curb. Getting out and locking the car, I start up the steps thinking about tomorrow. Hmmm, giving Danny a haircut will be fun and then a three-way with him and Hayden. Damn, that sounds like a good time. Yeah, but I've got to impress on those two that we don't talk about side-sex! I mean even though Rob basically suggested he wouldn't want to hear the details and neither would I if things were reversed. Not a bad night though... 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 ======================================================== Please consider a tax deductible donation of any size to nonprofit Nifty to help with the expense of maintaining this ginormous free story site. Thank you very much. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html