Date: Fri, 9 Nov 2018 19:58:22 +0000 (UTC)
From: Bill <mgtbill@aol.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter  18

DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter  18

by  Donny Mumford


After Monday night's dinner all four of us, Robby, Carl, Pony, and I take
five minutes to clean up the kitchen and get the dishwasher going. From my
perspective, this is obviously a much better approach to cleaning up the
kitchen than the other night when I was cleaning up everything myself at
midnight.

What made me smile to myself the most from tonight's activities was the way
Pony jumped ship going from me as his barber to Danny. Yeah, can I believe
that traitor had the balls to dump me like that? Heh heh, but what the
hell, Pony likes the flattop Danny gave Carl better than the one I did for
him last year. Are my feelings hurt? Nah, not really! Probably a year or
two ago I'd have felt differently but not now, and I'm not sure why that
is. Perhaps it's simply that Danny's into giving haircuts and so I'm no
longer the only one who thinks doing haircuts for your buddies is cool.

Yeah, but Danny being 'into' cutting guys' hair is a curious
development. He doesn't have a haircut fetish. Hell, he's probably unaware
there's even a fetish for that. If I had to guess I'd say Danny likes doing
it for no other reason than he's seen me be the group's barber, and then
for a while it was Rob, and so now Danny wants to do it. That sounds lame,
so I'm probably wrong. Here's an idea: why don't I ask him?

That's a radical idea, but ya know what, Danny's a very unpretentious guy
and he'll come right out and tell me. A bigger question for me should be,
why the fuck am I so blase about not being the home-haircut barber? I mean,
considering how I've had so much sexy fun doing it for years. Is it because
I've come to like Danny so much? Could it be that simple or am I simply
impressed at how quickly he became pretty fucking good at it? I don't know,
maybe it's just the novelty of it.

After the kitchen clean up the four of us joke around for a while but
tomorrow is another day of classes so we make it an early night. I wonder
if we'll be this responsible a month from now? Not likely, but then most of
us start off the first semester with the best intentions of concentrating
on the academic aspect of college life. It's not long though before the
real reasons for going to college overtakes our best intentions. I'm
referring to having sex, drinking too much, and in general partying
irresponsibly. Our rationalization being that we won't be able to get away
with any of that shit after college so why not make the most of it now, ya
know?

This is our first week so we're still acting temporarily responsible by
agreeing that Rob will drive Carl and Pony back to their dorms at the
ridiculously early hour of ten o'clock. While he's doing that I figure I'll
have a cigarette on the balcony and mull over my successful start to senior
year, especially in the side sex department. That luncheon-sex with John
Smith was pretty hot and hopefully a harbinger of things to come. Very
fortuitous that Robby got called away for that Coach's luncheon. I'll take
that as another positive sign that things are turning around for me in that
regard.

Hmmm, what's also on my mind is 'topping' Pony. That boy really got into
our buddy sex last year and I expect the same this year when he gets his
act together! Exhaling smoke I grin as I'm saying out loud to myself, "Oh
yeah, and there's that spanking part of sex with Pony." Why the hell did I
say that out loud? After glancing around to see if anyone else is on their
balcony to hear that, I think about Pony's insistence on the spanking
part. I mean, spanking him sure as shit was never my idea! I'm not a
dominant 'top' or even close to one, but it is kinda fun to once in a while
spank that cute hairless ass of his and watch him spring a boner. Yeah,
he's a sexy-hot little fucker alright! Obviously, he sort of reminds me of
myself when I was much younger and stupider.

Huh, and I don't know why I insist on thinking of Pony as 'little' since
we're almost exactly the same size. Maybe it's what I just thought... it's
because he reminds me of myself when I was three or four years younger. I
say 'little' meaning 'younger'. I also liked getting spanked or tied up, or
whatever the fuck, back in my early days. I still like sub/dom sex but with
much tighter parameters on the 'dominant' part. When I was younger though,
Omigod, anything dominant was okay while now I'm okay only with more
moderate stuff. Pony likes being tied up, spanked, and probably other stuff
he's too embarrassed to mention. Yeah, and me being a poor excuse for a
dominant 'top' is probably the reason Pony nags me to spank his ass. That's
pretty much the extent of my dominance. And, it goes without saying that
neither him, nor I, nor anyone else knows why we like sex the way we do.

So yeah, even though I prefer sub/dom sex myself, the 'dom' part I tend to
interpret much differently now. A couple of years ago there needed to be
real dominance displayed by my 'top' before I'd sense the maximum thrill of
sub/dom sex whereas now I don't want anything to do with hardcore
dominance. I don't know any hardcore dominant 'tops' now anyhow! It's still
fun being the submissive 'bottom' though. And I say that even though most
of the dominance I need to make up in my head nowadays. It's goofy I know,
but I'm not in control of my subconscious mind! Ya can't fight it, well I
guess I could but if it's basically harmless why not go with the flow of my
mysterious subconscious mind?

Ya know what though, I even feel a touch of that 'dominant allure' when
'topping' Pony even though I prefer being submissive during sex! So yeah, I
can see how it could maybe get to being, um, intoxicating for guys who were
dominant to start with. Bullies in childhood or whatever. Psychologically I
don't know why they're like that. And Ryan was a dominant 'top' who'd get
carried away with it. He's in an even stranger category than most too
because he experienced being super submissive before becoming the opposite
with me. It's all very hard to understand. I've experienced a number of
different dominant 'tops' but there was always a point when I'd say
'NO!'. Jesus, I gotta wonder how far they'd take it if I didn't say
'NO!'... and there are some submissive guys who don't ever say 'NO!'. I
think I read that somewhere...

Whatever, I still like being sexually submissive in my preferred 'bottom'
position but with Pony, like I mentioned, I've discovered I also kinda like
the other side of things by being a pretend modestly dominant 'top'. It's a
cool change of pace and of course, Pony plays up all that stuff where he
acts like he loves me and I'm his idol so it's all sexy gay fun. I don't
take any of it too seriously although I am very fond of Pony sex-wise and
otherwise.

Pony's complicated too. I mean, even though he's sometimes immature and
acts like my little brother when we're together, that's not how he acts
around everyone else. He's the complete opposite of that with others. I'm
not saying he's an arrogant ramrod with others or anything, but his last
year's roommate, Tom Higgins, did claim that Pony was a prick to him half
the time. Not with me and though and at the same time Pony is good at
bantering back and forth with me. He's pretty good at giving it out as well
as he takes it. Mostly he pretends we have more of a relationship than is
the actual case, and who does that sound like? Danny maybe? Whatever,
Pony's fun to hang out with.

So yeah, buddy sex is looking up now that I've got 'topping' in my future
with Daryl Ponti, Ponyboy, and also an occasional lunch with John
Smith. That's my side sex so far but it doesn't need to be all there
is. Plus I haven't even mentioned my major buddy sex with Danny. That
Sunday afternoon was nuclear hot when Danny and I fucking our brains out
during one sex-filled afternoon. He was really something special with his
almost-dominant 'topping' during sex combined with his almost lover's
sex. Very unique! Both were especially impressive considering he was
dealing with a major hangover!

Omigod, what if he was one-hundred percent in tip-top shape? Well, maybe
his slightly drunk hangover condition freed up some inhibitions. Hard to
tell. Whatever though, it was the best time I've had with him and that's
saying something because every time we've had buddy sex I thought it was
special. Ha, I say 'every time' when all summer it was only two or three
times... total. And that was for like a twelve-freakin'-week-period.

Giving up on all these musings, and my cigarette, I go inside and then down
the short hall to the bathroom where I strip naked. After pissing and
washing my hands I use my electric toothbrush for two minutes which seems
like forever but my dentist says you need to brush your teeth for two
minutes. Fuckin' sadist!

While I'm brushing I've got the water flow on full blast in the shower
giving it time to reach a temperature I like. It starts out as cold water
for a minute before it even begins heating up. It's the same way the shower
works at home. I mean my second home with Rob. I read somewhere it's
because the shower is a long distance from the hot water heater. I'll
probably include that bit of information in my book about useless things
taking up space in your brain, space that could be better used.

Done brushing my teeth I put my hand under the shower head and, yes... the
water is just right now. Getting in the tub and pulling the shower curtain
closed I let the hot water flow over me for a minute before I start
shampooing my flattop hair and then, when I've got my head under the flow
of the water rinsing the shampoo out of my hair the shower curtain opens
and I almost have a heart attack! It takes a second for my brain to get
around to recognizing a naked Robby who's smiling while getting in behind
me, saying, "Hope you don't mind, babe, but showering together will enable
us to get to bed sooner." BOOM, BOOM, BOOM goes my heart. I mutter, "Did
you ever see that old movie, 'Psycho'?"

Pushing me gently over so he can get under the flow of water, he goes,
"Psycho? You mean the original movie? There was also a TV series and a
remake of the original movie some years ago." I mutter, "Forget I mentioned
that movie," but I can't help smiling that he's knows all that shit. He
snickers and squeezes my bare ass as I ask, "Why do we need to get to bed
sooner? It's like ten-fifteen for chrissake." He slips in front of me and
cups my face between his hands and then kisses my lips before saying,
"Because I desperately need me some Dylan Newman tonight... sexually
speaking that is." Nice! Hmmm, I gotta believe Rob's buddy/side/sex
situation isn't exactly blooming of late because this boy is always horny,
which is a good thing for me by the way.

Wiping my hand over my face getting water from my eyes, I go, "Good plan,
Robby! Hey, let me shampoo your hair as a reward for that good plan of
yours." He says, "Ooooh, yes, take care of me, Dylan, be my slave." Pouring
lots of shampoo in his hair, I mutter, "Close your eyes," and then rub my
fingers through his hair and then massaging his scalp with my fingertips
for a minute. Robby goes, "That feels so good!" I mutter, "You have a
perfectly shaped head, Robert." He goes, "Whaddaya mean?" I'm like, "Yeah,
I've noticed your perfectly shaped head for years now but don't recall if I
ever mentioned it to you." He's like, "No, you never did. How is it
perfectly shaped?" Robby has his eyes closed so I get to stare at his
handsome face. I put my hand on the back of his head, saying, "You don't
have an exaggerated slope back here, one that juts out too far like on some
goofily shaped heads I've given haircuts to. Your head is rounded," and I
move my hand down lower on his head, saying, "And you don't have any bumps
on either side like I've noticed on other guys' heads when I was cutting
their hair. Bumps like skiing moguls. Your head is fucking perfect!"

Haha, I sounded stupidly excited saying that thing about his head being
perfect and Robby laughs out loud, and then he goes, "Thank God something
on me is perfect, but what are skiing moguls?" I'm like, "Fuck moguls! If I
were a suspicious person I might think you were fishing for more
compliments. I mean considering that last pathetic remark of yours about
nothing being perfect about your person." He goes, "Nope! I'm not fishing,
sweetheart!" Sweetheart?

Rob's in an awesomely good mood... and without the aid of any adult
beverages too. Then, in a more serious manner, he goes, "Speaking of my
perfect head, Dylan, do you think I need a haircut? I mean, I know I need
one but who should I ask to do that; you or Danny?" I say, "Danny, of
course, he's our barber," and Rob mumbles, "Really? You don't mind?" I go,
"No, but you better make sure he's studied the tutorials for whatever kind
of haircut you want."

I push his head under the flow of water to rinse out the shampoo. After
rubbing his head to get all the lather out of his hair, I mutter, "You're
good." Rob's wiping his eyes, asking, "What should I tell Danny I want? I
mean, will he know what a preppy haircut even means?" I squeeze some bath
gel onto a washcloth, mumbling snarkily, "Well, that's something you need
to discuss with your barber, wouldn't you say?" He laughs out loud again,
mumbling, "Yeah, I guess it is, smart-ass..." And he mutters to himself,
"Ask my barber, my ass." Rob takes the washcloth from me, saying, "I'll
bathe you first, pretty boy."

As we bathe each other I can't help but marvel at how magnanimous I've
become about Danny doing everyone's haircut. Well, let's face it, I'm such
a good sport... hahaha! No, seriously I'm okay with it and that's because
it's Danny. That's my conclusion; I'm only okay with it because it's
him. Someone else trying to be the barber I might find myself resenting
that person like I resented Golden Summers last year. I resented him and
was envious of him too, but I was so much younger and immature last
year. Yeah, and being less mature I got a tad petty about Golden doing all
the haircutting for us. You might even say I tried undermining his
haircutting by badmouthing it to anyone who would listen; not that it did
any good. Everyone still went to him for his lousy haircuts.

Hahaha, I was terrible, but that was Golden last year and this is Danny
this year. Danny likes doing it so much too, which is very different from
Golden who was always bitching about doing it. Not that anyone cared about
his bitching since the haircuts were free. And another reason I can be
magnanimous about Danny being the barber is I expect what happened with Rob
will happen with Danny. What I mean is he'll lose interest in it like Robby
did, and then I'll be our barber once again. So, knowing that, maybe I'm
not as magnanimous about it as I thought.

Yeah well, it's only right I end up being the barber again since I started
home barbering for the neighborhood in the first place. I'm the originator
and all the barber equipment is mine, although no one apparently remembers
that now. Well, Rob did chip-in buying those new clippers for that dumb-ass
'undercut' hairdo of last summer. And another thing, although I wouldn't
mention this to Robby, Danny's a better barber by far than he ever
was. That's one more reason I'm not having a difficult time going along
with this temporary situation.

Getting out of the shower Rob and I are drying ourselves as he says, "After
I brush my teeth, it's right to bed for you and me, babe." I nod my head
and he does a big smile, adding, "Damn, I love that we can just hop in our
own bed together and fuck, don't you?" I nod, "Absolutely, babe!" He
chuckles and then starts brushing his teeth. After watching him do that for
ten seconds, I say, "I've got extra brushes that fit my new electric
toothbrush, Rob. You can use one if you want. It times you and a 'ding
`goes off after two minutes. You better be timing yourself to go the full
two minutes too or your dentist will chew your ass out."

With a mouthful of toothpaste he's splattering the mirror with tiny
toothpaste spots, sputtering, "My toothbrush works fine, but thanks for
offering, babe. Oh, and my dentist can go play with his torture devises
because I'm not doing this for two minutes! " I go, "Just saying. Oh, and I
should mention I'm thinking of getting a Water Pik too. Whaddaya think
about that?" Rob stops brushing, and says, "Will you stop staring at me
while I'm doing this. It makes me think I've got a big mole or a pimple on
my face or the back of my neck or something." After two seconds more of
staring at him, I mutter, "You do have a big mole but since you hurt my
feelings I'm not telling you where it is. It looks bad too!" He laughs out
loud again, spraying the mirror with toothpaste specks.

In the bedroom, I get in bed naked. Even though I spend time thinking about
sex with John Smith or Pony or even Danny, my main man is definitely
Robby. I just like our sex better than doing it with anyone else. It
doesn't always produce the most out-of-this-world climaxes like sometimes
happens with other guys, and Rob's cock isn't the most perfect one for anal
sex, and there isn't the thrill-ride aspect I sometimes get with a
semi-dominant side sex partner, but I don't care about any of that... it's
simply the best sex I have every time I do it with Rob.

I'm aware that buddy sex partners have the advantage of 'newness' in the
sense I'm not doing 'it' with them two or three times a day like I am with
Rob. So that 'newness factor' isn't there with Rob and me, but then it's
the familiarity factor with Robby that makes me like it the best. And after
saying that, every time Rob and I have sex it's basically new in one way or
another anyway! Plus, I feel comfortable, safe and loved, and taken care of
when having sex with Robby... and being in love makes it even better!
Nobody on the planet loves and cares for me like Robby does... except
Chubby.

Rob comes into the bedroom all smiles as he exaggeratingly shows me his
teeth before saying, "See, sparkling clean just for you, baby! Accomplished
in only one minute of brushing!" He is so happy about well, everything I
guess. I know he loves that he's back playing a boys' game, but playing it
seriously as a member of the Merrimack baseball team, and I know he's proud
that he was selected to be a mentor for a freshman again this year and I'm
guessing about this, but while he's happy about working for Dickers & Son I
think he's glad for the break from his Dad being his boss. I can also tell
Rob loves that I'm living with him at home, and of course here at college
too... and all in all, he's a happy boy. So am I.

Robby pulls the covers back and gawks at my naked body, exclaiming,
"Omigod! You're so hot, Dylan," and he climbs in bed. I'm like, "You too,"
and he lies half on my body while pulling the covers over us, murmuring,
"I've been thinking about doing this with you all day," and he gives me a
couple of really sweet kisses but then the sweet kisses soon turn into
wilder ones that have us both moaning with desire and then our making-out
gets even more intense with our hands all over each other, our clean white
teeth scraping together while we're doing hot and wet sloppy hungry
kisses. Our making-out is almost, but not totally, wrestling as we're
rolling around on the bed with our naked bodies always touching. I think
Rob intended some slow sweet lover's sex but things got out of control
quickly. No, I'm not horny but Robby's apparently a very horny guy and
whether I'm horny or not I'm always up for this.

We're groping each other while flopping around on the bed, squirming
against one another's naked bodies until Robby's lying totally on top of
me. Our faces are squished together, our noses bumping and our lips kissing
and sucking and then our tongues lick together with our mixed saliva all
around our mouths and chins. Fuck, my cock is so hard it's almost
painful. Rob lifts his head taking his face off mine as he gasps for
oxygen. He takes two big breaths and then puts a hand on my shoulder to
lift himself up so he can reach the lubricant on the bedside table.

Another deep breath from Rob with me doing the same deep breathing plus my
heart's beating too fast. With the Astroglide tube in his fingers, Rob
flops off me onto his back, murmuring, "This is almost empty, babe." He's
unscrewing the cap of the Astroglide lubricant turning his head to look at
me as he grins, saying, "Your turn to buy some," and I go, "Uh un, no,
that's too embarrassing." He snickers and says, "Online, dummy," and
squeezes lube on his fingers while nodding his head that I should turn
over. Instead, I just go up on my side facing away from him and his middle
finger is immediately at my asshole pushing slippery lube inside me and
around the lips of my anus and then one of his fingers goes deep inside as
I gulp and mutter, "Ooooh." Rob's finger slides around in there and then
rubs my prostate and my shoulders hunch as I grunt, "Ahhh." His finger
comes out but I know my anus will very soon be stretched open wide and then
wider to accommodate the entrance of Rob's fat hard boner that will be
going in one way or another.

It's never been measured as far as I know, but when Rob's penis is hard its
circumference is definitely way larger than average, the average
circumference being between four to five inches. I used to think Rob's hard
cock had the circumference of a Coke can but subsequently, I've looked
closely at Coke cans and Rob's hard cock isn't quite that big around
although it is one of the bigger ones for sure. I've had lots of other big
boys' cocks up my rear end so I know something about boners with bigger
than normal circumferences.

Whatever its exact size, my rectum has been broken-in and now accepts it
without me screaming out in pain although there is always initial hurting
going on. Only temporary hurt though and the hurt is less than it was four
years ago or even one year ago. I don't mind it, the hurt I mean. What I
find most fascinating is, after I've been fucked really hard by a big fat
cock, whatever its circumference might be, is how it leaves my asshole
gaping open. I forget when it was, but once I backed up to a mirror and
looked behind me and that wide-opened asshole of mine was something to see!
Kinda freaky, but I was weirdly proud of my asshole for being so obliging
and so extraordinarily capable.

Rob's got my asshole properly lubed-up, muttering, "We're good to go,
baby," so I drop down on my back and wiggle my ass on the mattress a little
'cause my ass feels gooey and kinda itchy. Heh heh... Rob will take care of
that soon enough. He holds the Astroglide up, saying, "Put your hand over
here, Dylan," and when I do he squeezes some Astroglide on my fingers and
mumbles, "You get my wee-wee all lubed-up this time, okay?" Holding my
lubed fingers out, I go up on my elbow looking down at Rob's fat hard cock
and then wrap my thumb and first two fingers around it and just squeeze the
shaft being careful not to get lube on the head. I wanna stare at that
inviting looking hard head with its big pee slit 'cause it's a freakishly
interesting-looking cock on this boyfriend of mine. By the way, my fingers
don't reach all the way around his boner.

Squeezing his boner gets Rob doing a quiet groan and then he starts sucking
in some air as I grin at him. Boners are quite sensitive ya know,
especially when a friend strokes it for you. Funny how extra intense the
feeling is when it's someone else's hand and not your own.

The foreskin has pulled mostly off the head of Rob's penis in its present
condition, which as I mentioned is presently in a condition called by
many...  'a boner'. Yeah, it became enlarged and hard during our
foreplay. I pull the rest of the foreskin down to exam how clean I got it
when I was bathing him in the shower. It's sparkling clean.

Still holding onto the shaft with my fingers, I lean over and suck on the
head, my tongue swishes over it a few times. Robby's back arches off the
bed as he moans, "Mmmm, aaaah, oooh fuuuuck." Grinning around his fat boner
head I let my tongue lap at the head a little more and about three seconds
later a big bubble of pre-cum forms. No taste to it, but I know it formed
because my tongue slides more easily around the head. Pre-cum is nature's
lube although it can't hold a candle to Astroglide, although I can't
imagine what a candle has to do with it.

Rob pushes my head away and moans and then sputters out, "I'll cum."
Lifting my head I see his boner's head is shining with my spit and his
pre-cum. It looks so cool! Using my thumb and the first two fingers of my
right hand I spread the lube up and down his four-plus inches of hard
cock. It's stroke, stroke, stroke on his hard cock and then my hand slips
over the head spreading lube there too as Robby makes a scrunching 'face'
and gasps a few times.

When his cock expands another quarter inch I let my fingers slide on down
past the root of his boner leaving it sticking straight out from his pubic
hairs as I wrap my fingers around his nuts. Robby's body tightens as he
goes, "No," but that was just a reflex response from him. Anyone would
reflexively say, "no' when someone grabs their nuts. When I squeeze his
nuts he goes, "Aaaah, ooow," and pushes my hand away, muttering, "Brat." He
chuckles a little and then sits up and grabs hold of my shoulders pulling
me over towards him so I obligingly flop down on my stomach.

I'm wiping the lube off my fingers on Rob's side of the sheet as he gets
behind me and spreads my legs. He pats my ass so I push it up. I look back
when I feel the fat head of his boner hit my asshole and see the intensity
in Robby's eyes. Without a word he exerts pressure and my asshole begins
spreading and spreading and now it hurts as it spreads some more before
that fat head slides very tightly inside me... and thank God for the help
of the lube. As usual, I hold my breath during the entrance and watch the
black dots dance behind my tightly closed eyes.

Rob waits to let my asshole get used to its new, um, circumference. It
takes some discipline on Rob's part to leave just the fat head of his boner
inside me. I appreciate his patience as I'm aware that the sensations
coming from his cock are probably screaming for him to push the rest of the
anxious shaft inside me so his entire erection can enjoy the awesome
sensations. Rob's too considerate of me to do that. This time he is
anyhow. Other times he can't help himself and I, as a very good 'bottom',
completely understand why that sometimes happens.

While waiting, Rob rubs both his hands up and down my back and then he rubs
down my sides and then past my hips and over to squeeze both my butt cheeks
pulling them tighter together against his buried cock's head as he's
quietly letting out a long exhale and then he goes, "Oooooh, this feels so
good, babe." His hands go back to grab my hips and pull me up a little and
then he leans forward pushing his fat boner up inside me inch by inch
spreading my rectum significantly. His fat boner's trip up my ass is helped
along greatly by the Astroglide as up, up, up my ass goes that big
boner... that fat sex organ of Rob's. Ooooh, yeah, it hurts so fucking
good! I shudder with arousal not really thinking all that much about the
hurt part of the process.

We're obviously not talking, mostly we're doing deep breathing or quiet
moaning. Then I feel the tickle of his pubic hairs on my buttocks and then
his crotch is against me... and then against me tighter, as he groans,
"Oooooh," and leans fully against my ass. His hands go forward to rest on
the bed on either side of my chest, his head and torso hovering over my
back as his knees spread a little further to better put pressure on his fat
boner that's impaled and opened my rectum dominantly. He humps against my
buttocks a few times just because he can. I know that somewhere in his
brain is the awareness that he's in a very dominant position, but probably
without him thinking the actual word 'dominant'.

As for my part, I let myself relax into a nice dreamy submissive frame of
mind. I mean, what else am I gonna do? Have you ever seen nature films
where wild animals, like tigers, are in heat and the female fights the male
at first but she eventually becomes docile under the male as his organ
impales her and she admits she's been dominated and adopts a submissive
posture? That's my mindset without the female references. Rob has me
totally dominated sexually, so basically in my brain, I think... oh no, I'm
dominated again by this strong male fucker!

For me, I grovel with sexual pleasure in this state while totally embracing
the feeling of submissiveness to my 'top'. Rob moves his knees a little
more getting seriously comfortable and then humps harder against my
buttocks getting me to lift my ass a little more. When I'm in the exact
position he wants me in he begins fucking me slowly. Our earlier wild
makeout usually leads to fast and hard fucking but Rob must be feeling
amorous and he's decided he wants to do the lover's sex he had in mind
initially. I suppose my horny boyfriend wants it to last, and even in my
un-horny condition, a slow drawn-out fuck suits me perfectly. If I'm really
horny, which I haven't been thanks to Rob, Danny, and John Smith I prefer
it fast and hard. This is just right for now though.

My eyes are closed to better concentrate on the sensations coming from my
rectum and off my throbbing boner. My hard boner is snugly under me
pointing tightly up my belly and feeling wonderful. Rob's wickedly hard
boner pulls back and then it goes right back up my ass, but slowly. All
around my very stretched asshole there's that familiar almost itchy
sensation replacing any lingering pain. The itchy feeling makes me tighten
the muscles in my ass and buttocks to grip Rob's boner almost like I'm
hoping it will scratch harder at the itchy feeling that's so tantalizing it
almost makes me scream... scream at how sensationally sexy it feels. That
plus my thumping-with-pleasure prostate that's silently screaming out
sexual pleasure like nothing else can match. Those two monstrously awesome
major areas of pleasure, my anus and prostate, plus my aforementioned
throbbing boner and the fantastic feeling of being totally filled up back
there joins with the idea in my head that with Rob's dominant hard cock up
my ass I'm almost 'one' with him... so for me, like I mentioned earlier,
this is a sexual pleasure trip no other 'top' can match.

Rob is able to maintain the slower thrusting for a number of minutes,
minutes I'm not keeping track of but I'd guess it's been maybe ten minutes
of me floating in a sea of sexual pleasure before I notice a definite
speeding up of Rob's thrusting. Yes, and along with the harder and faster
thrusting, I hear some desperate breathing sounds coming from Robby and
then he moans, "Mmm, ooh, mmm," and I'm guessing he's now under the control
of his building orgasm. Nothing he can do about that no matter what he'd
prefer, which is probably another ten minutes of the slow-moving pleasure
train we've been on together the previous ten minutes or so.

Nope, the thrusting is definitely much faster now as the mesmerizing steady
movement of his boner has speeded up noticeably and I hear the first subtle
sounds of us males fucking in earnest... "Slap, slap, slap". At first
they're quiet sounds, subtle sounds but soon they're more pronounced as
Robby gives way to his 'need' to climax and it's, "Aaaah, ahh," from him
and, 'Slapslapslap," sounds distinctly heard now as my own climax ignites
and I begin trying to hump up at Rob's thrusting and it's five, ten,
fifteen seconds of almost scarily increasing sensations with climaxes
building to a crescendo. Rob gasps and gets tight against my buttocks
humping there, his fingers digging into my hips as he makes whining
pathetic sounds and then his climax explodes inside my ass. I feel that
first streak of cum and it sets me off too.

My squeal is muffled with my face in Rob's pillow as cum streaks out of my
boner, my whole body shaking as thoughts of anything else in this world
completely evaporate and only this climax of mine matters... nothing else
in the universe means anything to me, just my orgasm! And then another
streak of cum shoots out and my private universe is a bright glaring world
of pleasure that defies description. Yes, the thrilling but indescribable
sensation of climax spreads out from my cock transporting me for the next
five or six seconds to another place, another dimension.

The bad part is that it only lasts a few spectacular seconds and then I'm
moaning quietly and doing my normal deep breathing as a shudder of fleeting
pleasure leaves me weak... and then it's all done and only now do I feel
Robby on my back and hear his breathing sounds and feel his heart beating
fast against me. Then even more reality seeps into my consciousness and I
also feel my own cum cooling under me and Rob's heavy weight on my back and
as the last tiny sensations of climax fade totally away I'm back on planet
earth dealing with, um, oh no... reality! I mumble, "Ew, I'm lying in my
own cum again, Rob."

He mumbles, "Are you sure it's yours? I shot off so hard my spunk might
have gone right through you to shoot out your dick." I mutter, "That's
probably what happened, yeah." He rolls off my back, pulling his cock from
my ass and as he does it, I go, "Aaaah," as he sighs and says, "I love
having sex with you, Dylan," and he hugs my side against him and rolls up
on his side with his now limp sticky cock flopping against my left
thigh. More reality right there. His cock feels cool and wet, which is a
harsh description considering fifteen seconds ago that cock was inside me
and I was in utopia on another planet or maybe even another whole universe
where everything was perfect and totally all about pleasure... and now it's
a cold wet limp sticky penis against my leg.

I don't complain about it though because I like Rob showing me a little
affection after sex. Showing me some love as he gets an arm under my neck
and pulls me up on my side a little as his other arm is going over my side
to hug me. He says, "You smell like bath gel, baby," and he snuggles his
face against the side of mine. He smells like bath gel too. My arm goes
over his side and now we can hug tighter, which we do for like a
minute. Letting go of me, Rob says, "I love you," and we get mushy for a
while talking to each other quietly with our faces six inches apart.

As usual, Rob does most of the talking telling me things like how happy I
made him by moving in with him this summer, and how he was proud of me that
I had the guts to do that even though he knew I was self-conscious about
leaving my Mom at home, and how me living with him and his parents showed
him that I trusted and had faith in his judgement. He tells me that me
having faith in him is the biggest compliment I could ever give him. Then I
listen to many compliments about the job I did for Dickers & Son with the
benefits package and he tells me nice things people said about me at work,
things that I didn't know about and so, of course, I'm happy to let Robby
continue doing most of the talking.

He's always been extremely generous with compliments for me and gladly
gives me credit for things that I didn't fully deserve. I mean especially
after I moved in with the Dickers. I'm referring to him telling his Mom or
Dad that it was mostly me who was responsible for us doing this or that;
whatever it was they nagged Rob to do around the house. He more than shared
the credit, he gave most of it to me.

Now, to catch his breath perhaps, he reaches over to runs his fingers back
through my hair a few times before quietly saying, "And Mom and Dad think
you're fabulous, Dylan. Mom told me, and I may have told you this before,
how shocked she was at first about me being gay but that you being my
boyfriend somehow made it seem okay to her. Ya know like it wouldn't be
okay if it was another guy which kinda sucks in some ways but she's not as
openminded as Dad, who said to me when I told him I was gay that we all
need to be who we are. Anyway, like I said, because of you even Mom was
good with it and since then I've never heard a discouraging word... as that
song goes." I don't ask him what song he means. Instead, I let him go on to
tell me complimentary things he's told me before as well as other things I
didn't know about, and all the time he's talking he's either running his
fingers through my hair or rubbing my arm or doing some kind of touching,
his boyish-sounding voice putting me in the most pleasant hypnotic trance
imaginable. It's all very loving and sweet... and I love him too!

I finally get a chance to tell him some compliments and how he's a great
influence on me in many ways, which he makes a 'face' at like he doesn't
believe me but he smiles too. Finally, we get tired of that and then laugh
at ourselves for overdoing it like we tend to do and then, without saying
anything, Rob moves his right leg over me while rolling me towards him and
I go back down on my stomach. Silently we fuck again for even longer than
the first time. My second boner feels so fucking good all through our
second sex it even surprises me. It was throbbing right on the verge of
exploding minute after minute. And, of course, there wasn't even the
initial pain of entry... it was a wonderful fuck!

Rob climaxed quietly with just a deep breathy sound but his body got so
stiff I knew when he was doing it and after like ten seconds of gasping he
went back to thrusting until he heard me squeal at my second climax of the
night. We're so tired after that we have a silent kiss and then an
encouraging smile at one another. That's all that was needed before we fall
sleep in our cum- streaked bed. Our semen unavoidably getting scattered
here and there on the sheets during our twin fucks but we don't give it a
thought; that's how tired we are.

Next morning though, Tuesday morning at nine-ten, I give our cum a thought
or two because I'm sticking to the sheet in two or three places and I don't
see the humor in it so I'm a little grumpy. The alarm Rob set is what woke
him before me, and then Rob patting my shoulder is what woke me up now. I
go, "Jesus! Do you see this, Rob? I'm stuck to the fucking sheets!"

I'm just noticing Rob has a towel around his waist and his hair is wet, so
I stop my complaining momentarily to ask, "Did you take a shower already?"
He nods, muttering, "Yes, I let you sleep," and he yanks the covers off
me. I'm lying on the bed naked, frowning at Rob as he separates the covers
he pulled off to gathers the sheet in a ball and then he throws in the
hamper. Huh.

I mutter, "I guess I'll get up now," and when I do Rob pulls off the bottom
sheet and it suffers the same fate as the top one. I'm standing here
watching him take a pillowcase off a pillow. "Um, Rob," he looks over at
me, and I ask, "Are you mad at me?" He smiles, "Nooo! Not at all, baby. Why
the fuck would you ask me that?" I shrug, "I don't know, um, you're not
saying anything." He's got both pillowcases in the hamper now, nodding his
head at the desk chair, asking me, "Would you pass me the bottom clean
sheet that's on the chair, please." I pick up the sheet and he goes,
"That's the top sheet. I need the fitted one," and I go, "I know that!" and
then mumble, "Changing the sheets, huh?" He chuckles and says, "Yeah, ya
wanna help?"

We do that and then put the fresh pillowcases on the two pillows. As Rob
spreads the blanket over the fresh sheets, well it's actually a comforter,
not a blanket, he goes, "Okay then, good to have that done! Ya know what,
Dylan?" I shrug, "No, what?" and he comes over to pat my cheek, the cheek
that's on my face, not my ass, as he says, "I hope I get your awesome body
sticking to the sheets again tonight too." I go, "Oh boy!" and then ask,
'What time is our first class? Do I have time for a shower?"

Dropping the towel that was around his waist, he puts on underpants,
saying, "I can't believe you don't know this. On Tuesdays, we have no
morning class and then that snooze fest Rock and Roll class is at
11:45. It's two-hours and then at two o'clock, we've got the fifty-minute
finance class." I go, "Oh yeah, I knew that. I'm gonna take a shower." Rob
goes, "There's a coffee I made for you along with a cinnamon bun if you
want it. They're both on the kitchen bar. I'm gonna fix us a light lunch
around eleven o'clock." Lunch? We should have a big breakfast and skip
lunch. I don't say that though because Rob's got it all planned out
apparently and I like that he's getting into the frame of mind to prepare
our meals, um, even if his timetable is a little fucked up. I mean, lunch
at eleven o'clock?

I'm watching him get dressed and then ask, "What's gotten into you with all
this domestic activity, Robert?" He smirks and does a little chuckle. I go,
"No, seriously." He says, "I wanna do more for us; that's all. Go get your
breakfast, or take a shower or do something." I mutter, "I need coffee,"
and he tosses me my khakis. The ones I left lying on the desk.

Putting them on, sans underpants, I mumble, "Thanks, I'll have a coffee and
that bun and then take a shower." He nods and I walk down the short hall to
the living room and then, calling over my shoulder, I ask, "When are we
gonna get the slipcover for this damn sofa?" He says, "We can go after
baseball practice if you want." That remains to be seen. Damn, my ass is
itchy from Rob's dried cum that's in and around my asshole, plus random
lube. Ewww, haha.

Jesus, speaking of gross, I once read online about a practice some gay men
have of shooting a load of cum up their buddy's ass and then they rim his
ass and suck out the cum. Now that's gross! There's even a name for it
which I've forgotten.

Yeah but, why in the fuck did I think of that? I mean, especially just
before eating breakfast? Sitting on the stool at the kitchen bar I sip my
coffee and then yell down the hall, "The coffee's cold!" He says something
I can't hear but it could have been 'no shit'. Wiggling my ass, trying to
scratch the itchy dried cum, I take a bite of the cinnamon bun and... yum!
Getting up while chewing that sweet roll I stick my coffee mug in the
microwave and hit the 'reheat' button and then watch the mug go slowly
around and around inside. Why I'm acting retarded this morning? Heh heh,
and the PC police can't read my mind so I can get away with the 'retard'
reference.

After drinking the coffee and eating the sweet roll I feel like a smoke but
go to the bathroom for my shower instead. Showers are great and always my
first choice over a bath. Staring at the shower curtain for a second I'm
thinking that there are exceptions to the shower rather than a bath rule. I
mean like Rob's and my recent bath together. The one we had the first day
we were here in the apartment! Whoopee! That was an awesome time in the
bathtub!

And I really like how Robby's been acting lately too. It's great to see how
happy he is here at Merrimack. Back home I was always wondering what mood
he'd be in after work. His Dad put a lot of pressure on Rob. Actually, Rob
put even more pressure on himself trying to impress his Dad. Anyway, some
days I'd be walking on eggshells worried he'd snap at me after a bad day at
work. That was a metaphor, by the way, the walking on eggshells thing. I
wasn't really walking on eggshells. Who would do that?

Huh, that's right, some days Rob would be very uptight after work and that
thought makes me realize again that this is our last year of college, so
what will our lives be like a year from now? Married or not, I'm sure we'll
be living together so will it be like it was last summer with me on pins
and needles wondering what mood he'll be in after work every-fucking-day?
Well, I wasn't actually on pins and needles either and, anyway, mostly it's
been wonderful living with him.

Living with the Dickers family was really nice overall. I think I liked
being part, or almost part of a family life and obviously I mean no
disrespect to my Mom. It was just something new and kind of cool getting
fatherly advice from Mr. Dickers and some not so subtle hints from
Mrs. D. when Rob and I needed to do something when we'd put off doing a
chore. Yeah, we had chores even at our advanced age. I didn't mind though
and actually, I kind of liked it. Anyway, Mrs. D. would suggest we get to
doing um, whatever it was in a nicer way than the very direct way
Mr. Dickers would do it. Just silly little things like that are examples of
what I liked: things that most guys take for granted from living with
parental control all their lives.

Jeez, sometimes I wonder about the way my mind drifts. I started thinking
about Rob's excellent frame of mind which morphed into thinking about how
much I enjoyed living with him and his parents. See, time tends to make
things seem better. I see everything as peaches and cream when I think
about me living with the Dickers when the truth is I had a difficult few
early weeks getting comfortable there. Now, looking back on the summer as a
whole, I'm glossing over the awkward parts. Still, thinking about it, the
entire experience was pretty fucking cool and good. It really was!

When I finish the shower and dry off, I get dressed putting on underpants
this time before putting on clean khakis and a Merrimack hoodie
sweatshirt. I put on socks and then step into Dockers and then look at
myself in the mirror over the bureau. It's only been four or five days
since Danny gave me this haircut and already I could easily comb it in a
couple of different ways. That because my hair grows faster than anyone's
hair I know about. I'm positive of that, and happy about it as well.

My hair is also developing some wave in it as I get older. I first noticed
it when I let my hair grow out at the beginning of last summer. I like the
slight waviness because the short bangs of this flattop aren't straight as
a poker, like... well like Rob's hair. Even though I've got choices I'm
gonna comb my hair in the flattop hairstyle. It's an okay 'look' and why
disturb Danny, Carl, and Pony. They all think it's a great flattop and like
I said before, I've noticed guys on campus with versions of flattops so
it's not like this is some kind of freakish hairdo. For Christ sakes,
J.D. Martinez on the Red Sox has a take-off on a flattop haircut! So I
guess if it's good enough for him with all his millions of dollars,
it's... well, you know the rest... if it's good enough for him, it's blah,
blah, blah...

Joining Robby in the living room, I ask, 'What'cha doing, babe?" He grins,
"Don't call me that! I've emphatically told you before that you're the
'babe' and 'baby' in our relationship." I'm like, "I don't remember you
being emphatic about it." He's sitting in the armchair with his laptop in
his, um, lap. I go up behind him and look over his shoulder to see what
he's looking at. Ha, it videos he's downloaded of him batting in the
batting cage. I go, "How much porn do you watch?" He says, "None! That's
because I've got my own porn star living with me." I stretch my neck to
kiss his cheek, saying, "I like you, ya know that?" and he says, "I like
you too. Um, do you wanna mess around?" Holy shit, my dick gets tight and
my throat seems to close up as I grunt, "Uh huh, but I wasn't hinting
around about that." He closes his laptop and gets up, saying, "I know that,
silly. I know you like a book and therefore I know when you're hinting
around for sex. It's my idea this time 'cause you make me crazy
horny. C'mon, we'll do the dirty deed in the bedroom."

Wow, I really like this even more than usual because it's
unexpected. Following Rob, I'm trying to think of something cool to say but
I'm feeling so fucking good about Robby being so fucking into our sex that
I can't think of a fucking thing to say. Plus, he's being so proactive and
in-charge of us having lots of sex that it's like, well... it's like I
always wanted him to be.

In the bedroom, Rob hands me the Astroglide, mumbling, "I ordered more
Astroglide online. Overnight delivery supposedly, but just to be safe we
oughta make whatever's left in there last today and probably tomorrow." I
nod and twist off the cap as Rob pulls my khakis down, and says, "Ya better
step out of your pants so we don't get anything on them." I kick off my
Dockers, still in sort of a state of shock as Rob pulls my underpants down
and I step out of both my underwear and khakis. Rob's humming a familiar
tune but I can't think of its name. He gives my ass a good hard, "SMACK!"
and then takes his jeans off. I make a face quietly saying a belated,
"Ow..." He grins and reaches over to smack my ass again but I step away
from his hand. Sometimes I think getting spanked is sexy, but not nearly as
much as I used to... although occasionally, hmmm.

Reaching behind me I smear some lube on my asshole and then squeeze some
more on my fingers. Rob stands in front of me sort of pushes out his
hips. I spread lube on that fat cock of his and then I want to kick myself
because I should have sucked a boner on that penis of Rob's. Dammit! I
could still do it but it's not the same now that I smeared lube on it.

Rob isn't thinking about me sucking his dick though as he pushes my hand
away from his cock, murmuring, "Thanks, babe, it's plenty hard," and then
he strokes himself while grinning and saying, "Don't look so worried,
Dylan. I haven't gone crazy or anything. It's just that I was sitting in
the living room hearing the water running in your shower and picturing you
in there naked. I mean, who wouldn't, ya know? Anyway, I got kind of giddy
thinking about how much I love having sex with you." His cock is bone-hard
alright, and it's sticking straight out again in all its fatness. Man,
that's a boner!

Rob takes hold of my chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulls my
head up to say, "I love you like crazy, Dylan." Omigod, I was staring at
his cock. That's why he lifted my head. I say, way too seriously, "Thank
you, Rob," and he grins like mad and then says, "This will be quick and
hard... just the way you like it, baby. Um, but could I ask you to turn
around?"

I go, "Huh? Oh, yeah, of course," and as soon as I do that Rob pushes the
back of my sweatshirt up and touches the head of his cock against my
asshole. I shudder at how cold it feels for a second or two. His arm comes
around me under the sweatshirt and he spreads his fingers on my bare chest
and plays with my nip ring. A few seconds later his arm pulls me back
against his chest. He's wearing a button-up-the-front shirt and with my
sweatshirt pushed up near my shoulders I feel the buttons of his shirt down
my spine and the shirttails against each side of my buttocks.

Putting the side of his face against my ear, he whispers, "I couldn't love
anyone half as much as I love you," and his big-circumference boner goes
tightly up my ass. I hold my breath; my body gets as tight and stiff as a
two by four. Rob murmurs, "Sorry... that probably hurt you," when his boner
has completed its journey up inside me and Rob's tight against my ass. He
lets out a long exhale with his minty mouthwash breath like a breeze across
the side of my face.

My body does a full shudder as my rectum adjusts and Rob asks, "You okay?"
I nod my head and he kisses the side of my face near my ear. Rob waits a
full minute and I feel so good being hugged this tightly against him; it
feels wonderful and safe and I feel loved and wanted like I thought
before... it's really nice! We probably look stupid though with our naked
legs and Rob's shirt hanging down in this position, me with socks on my
feet but it feels good!

After a murmured, "Here we go," Rob starts a fast, hard fucking and I soon
need to bend over to grab my knees. The hands Rob had on my chest slides
down to just above my groin gripping my hips to keep me tightly in place as
his hips move very smoothly and very fast. I think it's sexy and perfect
the way Robby did everything this morning... I love the extemporaneousness
of it all. Plus, of course, every expected excellent sensation is happening
in my ass just the way it's supposed to so my face is scrunched up, my eyes
tightly closed as I try absorbing everything that's feeling sexually
awesome coming from my ass and my harder-than-stone cock.

Omigod my cock gets so hard as Rob's cock keeps pounding up my ass hitting
everything it should and then the orgasm freight train has me in its grips
and I barely have time to savor that sensation when I hear Rob's gulping in
noisy breaths for a second before we both climax at the same time. Cum
gushing up and out of my boner that's sticking straight out, but with me
bent over like this the streak of cum shoots right under my face with spray
hitting my nose and then again! I'm squealing and sort of struggling but
Rob's got me held in place thrusting hard for another twenty seconds before
letting go of me, backing up and bending over himself, his hands on his
knees as he tries catching his breath.

"Oh fuck... oooh, Jesus," Rob moans, and then he snorts out a laugh,
saying, "That wasn't unusual at all, huh? Just your normal under control
sex act between lovers, full of affection and, um, whatnot." I gasp in some
air as I put my hand on my chest feeling my rapidly beating heart. Holy
shit, climaxing takes a lot of energy. Wow! I take another deep breath and
then straighten up and say, "I loved that! Seriously... that was an awesome
climax! What was your name again, mister?" He straightens up too, and
mumbles, "Don't give me that 'mister' shit again, son. I told you, call me
'Sir'. Um, you're the pizza delivery kid, right?"

I go, "Oh man, another load of your spunk up my rear end and I just
finished cleaning my ass of your spunk in the shower!" Rob says, "C'mon
with me, I'll clean it for you this time." We walk to the bathroom with our
dicks swinging in the breeze. Rob does all the cleaning on my ass and dick
while I stand here with my arms folded. When he smacks my ass, saying,
"You're good to go," I dry myself as he washes his dick, mumbling, "Don't
worry, Dylan, I'll wash my hands before fixing lunch." I mutter, "I sure as
shit hope so! What are we having?" He goes, "Hot dogs, potato chips, root
beer floats, and coleslaw that I'm making from scratch." God help us! I
say, "Yum. Root beer floats are sick, dude!"

We're back in the living room less than ten minutes after leaving it with
both of us glowing. Yeah, sex will do that for you... get you glowing. Rob
plops down in the armchair again and opens his laptop, asking, "So, how was
that, Dylan?" I go, "An extraordinary good use of two minutes! Super idea
you had there, boss. You are my man, my main man, dude!" He goes, "I'm
trying my ass off to keep my boyfriend happy and in the process having a
damn good time of it myself!" I mutter, "Trying a tiny bit harder never
hurts... just saying," and he chuckles, muttering, "The boy says 'try
harder'... it's impossible to please some folks."

My cell phone beeps and I take it out seeing a text from my beloved
brother. The text says, 'I'm bored, bro! What'cha doing?' As I go out on
the balcony I text back. 'I'm chillin' Chub, having a smoke on the
balcony. Got a class at, um, I think it starts at quarter to twelve."  I
light a cigarette and lean against the railing in the sun. We text back and
forth for fifteen minutes. Oh man, he's funny! Chub's one of only a few who
can string eight curse words in a row and it still makes sense. He's
telling me how much he hates his 'Business Communication' course and the
female professor. The female professor was Chub's motivation for the eight
inventive curse words in a row. Then he texts about a girl who dumped him
and he has a couple of descriptive adjectives for her that made me laugh
out loud. I start texting him back about that, but he sends one before I
finish. His text reads: 'Gotta go, brother. The class is over. Hey, we
gotta do lunch together. I'm out, bro...' What? Was he in class during all
our texting? Jesus! Hahaha!

Oh man, I check my cell phone for other texts and see one that Connor sent
while I was in the shower. Hmmm, I'm not sure how to respond to Connor's
text. He's inviting Rob and me to his apartment for dinner this
Saturday. Yeah, that would be cool except for that neanderthal boyfriend of
his. Um, what's his name? Oh yeah, Stosh! I text back: 'Thanks for the
invite, Connor. Can't do it this Saturday though... but real soon. Love ya,
bro!' Oh man, what am I gonna do about Connor? That boyfriend of his just
isn't right! Goddammit, I need for Connor and me to meet, just the two of
us. And, damn, I know how to do that and it's obvious too! I'll meet him on
campus after his last class sometime this week 'cause scary Stosh doesn't
go to class. He's not working yet either although he will be in another
week; at least that's what I was told.

I send Connor another text: 'What's your class schedule, bro? Can we have a
beer one day after class this week?' Yeah, I feel better now. I stare at my
cell phone for twenty seconds but he doesn't text back so he's probably in
a class now. Haha, not that being in class deters Chubby from texting.

I'm in the texting mood now so I send a text message to Hayden: 'Have you
been back to that butcher shop for another haircut yet? Miss you,
Hayden. Love, Dylan'. And I do miss him although I know Rob doesn't and
Danny's said hardly a word about his life-long friend except for having a
shit-fit about Hayden getting his hair cut short. I wasn't thrilled about
that either. Obviously, both Danny and I would have liked doing Hayden's
haircut. Oh jeez, that time Hayden and I were in his bedroom... oh, never
mind.

Then I think, 'Fuck, I included 'love' in the text to Hayden.' Gawd, I wish
I hadn't done that! He might misinterpret it or something. Jesus, ya gotta
think twice before rattling off text messages! That's a good memo for me to
remember. I'll include that in my book.

After looking over the railing to be sure no one's under me or walking this
way, I flick my cigarette butt expecting it to go way the fuck out... um,
but it goes into the railing and it kicks back to bounce off my hip before
dropping to the floor still smoldering... fuck! I kick the butt off the
balcony and go inside to find Rob getting food from the refrigerator. I'm
like, "You're making lunch already? It's only," checking my wristwatch,
"Ten-thirty." Rob goes, "I want to make the coleslaw and have that
ready. Actually, haha, I'm kinda anxious to get started making lunch for
you." I go, "Gee, that's, um...."

I sit at the kitchen bar, asking, "What's your plan?" Rob has a big head of
cabbage in one hand and a jar of mayonnaise in the other. He puts them on
the counter and says, "I checked out a number of recipes for coleslaw on
the Internet. My plan, however, is to ignore those recipes and ask you how
to make it. For one thing, we don't have a red onion or a Granny Smith
apple which are part of the online recipes. Plus celery, I don't remember
your coleslaw ever having celery in it."

I go, "There are exactly sixteen-thousand-and-nine recipes for
coleslaw. Mine is number forty-three and you're correct, it has no celery
in it, none at all." He slowly shakes his head, mumbling, "Sixteen thousand
and nine, huh? Um, are you going to help me or not?" I go, "Yes, I'm going
to tell you how I make it and it's very simple." Rob goes, "Good. Go ahead
and tell me."

Trying not to grin, I'm like, "Okay. First get out the four-sided box
grater." He gives me a 'look' asking, "What the fuck is a... I mean, um,
what's a four-sided box grater." Getting up, I go around the kitchen bar
into the kitchen and open the cabinet under the stove top. After creating
some noise moving metal trays, frying pans, and whatnot around I finally
hold up the grater. Rob mutters, "Oh, so that's what that thing is called."
I say, "Everybody knows what a box grater is. See the different openings on
this grater. They're for fine, medium, and coarse grating," and I point to
them.

Rob takes the stainless steel grater from my hand and says, "Oh, those are
sharp edges on the openings, huh?" I go, "Yes, it's an excellent torture
device too, but for coleslaw, I recommend you use the coarse grating side,
which is that one," and I reach over to touch it. Taking a deep breath he
nods his head, "Okay, I got it; the coarse side. Now, what do I do?" I say,
"Well if you're an especially strong person with extra large hands you
could hold that big head of cabbage in one hand and rub it many, many times
firmly from top to bottom against those stainless steel edges. Lots of
shredded cabbage will accumulate inside the grater." He snorts out a laugh
and goes, "You're not gonna make this simple for me, are you?" I yell, "I'm
trying to!"

Rob puts the grater on the counter, saying, "What if the chef doesn't have
especially large hands and he can't hold a whole head of cabbage to do what
you said about moving it from top to bottom?" I'm sitting at the kitchen
bar again and spreading my hands, saying, "Well, what would you do?" He
shrugs, "Cut the cabbage head in half... maybe." I mutter, "Or quarters
would even be better." Nodding his head, muttering "Ballbreaker" under his
breath, Rob picks up a paring knife and I go, "No! That knife isn't big
enough to cut the cabbage in half. You need a big knife." He drops the
paring knife and goes in the drawer where we have knives and other assorted
stuff. I mumble, "Of course, if we were rich we'd have a wooden knife block
to hold all our knives in. Yes, that'd be a handy thing to have, if we were
rich."

Rob ignores my ramblings and pulls out a carving knife and without delay
cuts the head of cabbage in half and then goes, "That wasn't as easy as I
thought it'd be. This cabbage is tough," and then he cuts the halves in
half and looks at me, asking, "Now what?" I say, "What I'd do is begin by
shredding one of the quarter pieces using as much of the green part of the
cabbage as possible. What I should have said though, and I didn't because I
assumed you'd figure this out for yourself, is you only need to cut the one
half into quarters and save the other half for another time. That whole
head of cabbage will make enough coleslaw for about twenty people and if
some of them are small eaters it could serve up to twenty-four people. But,
since there's only the two of us for lunch, well..." He goes, "You said
quarters," and I go, "Yeah, but I thought you'd know I only meant that
figuratively, not literally." He says "I'm giving serious thought to
literally cutting you into quarters!" I go, "A temperamental chef already,
huh? Yeah, that can happen."

Then I can't help chuckling 'cause I'm having a good time. But enough
goofing on Robby. I go around and start shredding one of the quarters to
show him what I meant and then stop when it's all white cabbage, saying,
"The white cabbage tastes fine but it doesn't look as good as the green
part. You taste food first with your eyes, ya know. I'll throw this white
part out." Rob's like, "No, you don't eat with your eyes! That would be
messy." I go, "Hey, that's what a famous chef said, or maybe it was an
artist." Rob frowns, "Um, you seriously throw out that big section of the
cabbage? My Mom includes it when we have ham and cabbage." I go, "And
that's a fine meal too although not in my top three hundred favorites." Rob
goes, "Huh, what?"

Stepping on the pedal of the trash can, the lid pops open and into the
trash goes the rest of the cabbage section as I say, "Of course I haven't
had your mom's ham and cabbage yet, so..." Rob mutters, "Fuck ham and
cabbage, what do I do now?" I'm like, "You can shred the other quarter for
practice although we already have more cabbage shredded than we'll need for
just the two of us." Robby frowns, muttering, "I'm supposed to be making
this fucking coleslaw and you just did it." I say, "No I didn't, go ahead
and shred some more cabbage. We'll have it for dinner. A coleslaw dinner."
He stars shredding as I mumble, "To be helpful, I'll wrap the other half of
the cabbage in Saran Wrap."

Shredding cabbage makes a mess. Yes, the majority of grated cabbages does
go inside the box grater, but little particles fly off the grater all over
the place as well. Rob grates some of the white cabbage along with the
green but when it gets close to his fingers he chucks the last part in the
trash, and asks, "What's next?" I say, "This is optional, but for
additional color use a potato peeler on a carrot and then grate the carrot
using the medium grater. Ya know, add carrot to the slaw. You won't
actually taste the carrot but it looks pretty. Same for parsley, and I
should probably explain that I don't mean use the potato peeler on the
parsley. I mean that the parsley also adds a little extra color to the
slaw, um, that you won't taste either." He goes, "You should write a book,
but not a cookbook, a wise-ass book. A book on being a wise-ass." I mutter,
"I'm just trying to help."

He peels a carrot and grates the peeled carrot and then gets some parsley
stalks. I say, "Roll the parsley in a tight little ball and then use the
paring knife to cut slivers off the ball." He goes, "Seriously?" I nod my
head, "Yes, seriously," and he does it and says, "Wow, little bits of
parsley. Cool!" I go over and get a bowl, saying, "Let me show you this
trick," and I put the top of the bowl level with the counter and drag the
grater over until it's off the counter and over the bowl and all the
shredded cabbage and carrot drop into the bowl. Rob goes, "Very neat," and
then he looks at all the pieces of cabbage and carrot on the counter,
muttering, "Not neat."

I clean the counter while Rob drops in the parsley flakes he just cut and
then stirs the ingredients until everything is mixed together very well. It
looks perfect. He goes, "Okay, how's it look, Dylan?" I'm like, "It looks
perfect, Robert." He mutters, "Stop calling me that, please." I say, "Feel
free to call me by my proper name anytime you want. It doesn't offend me."
Robby goes, "There is no nickname for 'Dylan" so I'm always calling you by
your proper name." I mutter, "Oh, yeah, that's right."

He stirs the coleslaw again, asking, "Do I just add mayonnaise now?" I go,
"No-no. That would be a bland coleslaw. We'll make a simple slaw
dressing. Get a little bowl and a wire whisk, one of the smaller whisks."
He gets those two things and I tell him to put a spoonful of sugar in the
small bowl," and he goes, "C'mon, Dylan, stop messing around!" So I put a
spoonful of sugar in the bowl, saying, "I'm not messing around. Now please
pass me that bottle of red wine vinegar that's in the cabinet behind you."
He hands it to me and I pour some of that in; but not too much, and then
say, "Now add the mayonnaise, like three tablespoons or maybe more and
whisk the hell out of it. That's the dressing; well, with some salt and
pepper too, but we'll do that to taste."

After whisking the hell out of the sugar, vinegar, and mayonnaise Rob pours
it on top the shredded stuff and I go, "Good. Now mix it really well with
the fork, not the whisk." He does that for a bit and then I'm like, "That's
plenty good enough, Rob." He nods at me, mumbling, "Piece of cake," and I
say, "No, that's a dumb phrase that I've promised myself to never use again
and I'm looking for your support in this crusade of mine to eliminate that
horrible saying from both our lives." He mumbles, "Whatever," and he tastes
a forkful of coleslaw. I'm like, "How's it taste," and Rob goes, "Maybe the
best coleslaw I've ever had." I go, "Let me taste," and he scoops out some
coleslaw on his fork. I lean over the bar to lip it off the fork. "Mmmm,
not bad. Nice job, Rob!" He goes, "I'm exhausted," and he leaves everything
on the counter where it is and goes to sit down, saying, "I'll cook our hot
dogs in about fifteen minutes."

I'm like, "Wait a fucking minute, buster! While I admit it's a totally
different ballgame for professional chefs, and forget about the celebrity
chefs, but... and this is a big 'but', one of the most important jobs a
home cook has is cleaning up after himself. I'll do it for you this time
because I can see making the coleslaw took a lot out of you." Rob goes,
"Heh heh heh, very funny. I'm gonna clean that up. Hey, really Dylan, leave
it for me. I'm just checking online how to cook hot dogs." Checking how to
cook hot dogs? Jeezuss!

Well, I do want to encourage this cooking trend of Rob's, so I mutter,
"Okay, whatever you say, Rob." Yeah, maybe by this time next semester I'll
be out of the picture as far as cooking goes, and Rob will be doing ALL the
food preparation. That happened with my barbering career. I was the only
'kid' barber in Framingham and now I'm on the outside of the barbershop
looking in at all the new barbers, metaphorically speaking. There's an
idiom about lightning striking the same place twice that may apply here,
but I'm off all idiotic sayings so I won't use it.

Leaving the used bowls, the utensils, the jar of mayonnaise, and everything
else where they are on the counter, I start to walk away... but I just
can't do it. I at least need to cover the coleslaw with Saran Wrap and put
it in the refrigerator, which is what I do as I'm telling Rob, "I'm not
cleaning up, Robby, just putting your coleslaw in the refrigerator." He
mumbles, "Thanks, babe. I'll be in there cleaning my ass off in two
minutes." I shut the refrigerator door while unnecessarily saying, "Warm
coleslaw isn't what we're looking for today, right?" Robby mutters, "What?"
Hmmm, I don't want to disturb his hunt online for how to cook hot dogs so I
go, "Oh, nothing."

Jeez, that was fun and Robby's so fucking cute with this new interest in
cooking. He'll be just as conscientious with this as he is with everything
else. Oh yeah, when my boyfriend gets his teeth into something look out!
Okay, I'll stay out of his way and get my book about General Grant. I can't
wait to finally finish the last twenty pages... and good riddance to this
book too. My next book is going to be something that doesn't seem so much
like school work. Hmmm, where to sit and read? Too chilly outside and Rob's
in the only living room armchair.

Remembering Rob and Carl lying on the sofa the other day with a sheet as a
temporary slipcover, I go in the bedroom and get one of Rob's blanket-size
towels that his Mom buys for him. I only need to cover enough of the sofa
for me to sit on so I drop the towel over a third of the sofa as another
temporary slipcover. Just right for me.

Sitting on my partial slipcover, I say, "Let's definitely get the sofa's
slipcover tonight, Rob." He looks up and goes, "Yeah, okay," and then asks,
"Is it worth firing-up the outside grill for the hot dogs?" I shrug, "I
wouldn't bother for four hot dogs although hot dogs on the grille are
pretty fucking good. There's always a chance of burning them though. You
need to be careful and stand right there turning them if you're going to
grill them."

A little later he burns all four hot dogs on the grill; almost blackens
them. Charred hot dogs with mustard, onion, and relish on a toasted bun are
pretty good though. The potato chips are perfectly done. Rob took them from
the Lay's Potato Chip bag gently without crunching the chips and the root
beer floats are so good we both have two. We do, however, forget to take
the coleslaw out of the refrigerator, but we'll have it with dinner.

After lunch we do a little bit of cleaning up in the kitchen and then Rob
joins me in the bathroom, both of us taking a root beer piss. While washing
my hands and face, I'm like, "That was absolutely a one hundred percent
grade 'A' lunch, chef!" Rob goes, "Thanks and I think I may have
accidentally discovered something burning those hot dogs. They're great
like that." Nice fucking rationalization! I don't say that though. Instead,
I don't say anything which always works out well for me and I'm thinking of
doing more of it.

As I put toothpaste on my electric toothbrush, I'm like, "So, what are you
making for our dinner?" He goes, "Lunches are gonna be my specialty to
start, but I'll be making dinner before too long. You'll see. Tonight I
plan on watching you make our dinner!" I just nod 'cause my mouth is full
of toothpaste. Rob gets his toothbrush, saying, "Seriously, the charred hot
dogs were actually better than, um, un-charred ones, doncha think?" Well,
let's not get carried away! I interrupt rinsing my mouth out to mutter,
"You might be right there, chef." I'm all about encouraging his new
interest in cooking.

A little later, with laptops and every other thing we could possibly need
in our backpacks, we're in the pickup driving onto the campus. It's
eleven-thirty-five so we're in plenty of time for our eleven-forty-five
History of Rock and Roll two-hour class. We find seats too close to the
front of the sloping lecture hall for my taste but Rob made lunch so I
don't make a fuss. I did need to grab his arm and drag him into seats
before we get any further down though because he was headed for the front
row.

During most of the class, I think about the great morning sex with Robby
and then almost laugh out loud going over our fun time, fun for me, in the
kitchen with Rob making coleslaw and then both of us forgetting to include
it with our much-too-early lunch. God, I like living with Robby! Sometimes
he seems helpless with, um, whatever, like cooking while other times he so
capable and in-charge and, um, well he's responsible enough for both of
us. I just love it!

Glancing at Rob from the corner of my eyes I see him taking notes and
looking so handsome and conscientious. He's doing what he's supposed to do
unlike more than a few of the hundred and fifty students in this lecture
hall who are obviously napping. I'll bet Robby gets the highest grade ever
recorded in this course. Dammit though, from where I'm sitting I don't see
a single guy worth a second look. Well, most of the students I see are
girls. The guys, for the most part, are behind us where I'd prefer sitting.

I hear someone say, "That was actually kinda interesting, huh, Dylan?"
There a great deal of rustling noise and I realize I dozed off. The noise
I'm hearing is the hundred-and-fifty students standing up and getting their
shit together ready to leave. The person who said something about the class
being interesting was, of course, Robby. Standing up too fast, I say too
loudly, "Yeah, it was." He glances up at that as he's putting stuff in his
backpack. Ha, he didn't even realize I took a two-minute nap.

The nap may have been longer than two-minutes actually, and as we exit the
building, Rob says, "That was a fast two-hours even without a break. The
professor promised we'll have a break every class from now on though." I
go, "Yeah, that's very generous of him since it says in the Merrimack
handbook that breaks are mandatory for classes over an hour in length." Rob
looks at me, "Where's it say that?" I shrug, "It's in there." Or if it's
not, it should be!

Outside as I'm lighting a cigarette, Rob mumbles, "I'll bet the
fifty-minute class we're going to now will seem longer than that two-hour
one we just had." I go, "I'll bet you're right," and burp up a hot dog
taste. No, it was mostly the onions I think. Hot dogs for breakfast
probably won't catch on.

The fifty-minute Finance class does not move along quickly even though I
type a lot of boring notes from the Professor's lecture into my laptop. I
took notes because he informed us we need to summarize the key points of
his lecture and turn it in next class. What a sneaky fucker that professor
is! That's a way to get us paying attention in class. Damn, I've never
heard of a more pathetic way for a professor to make students listen to his
boring spiel. That should have been a warning in one of the online
evaluations of all courses and professors. Somebody dropped the fucking
ball with that!

Anyway, that it's for the academic part of college today and now for more
of the fun part. Rob's excited, "Practice doesn't start for a half hour or
more but I'm gonna head down there now, Dylan. Do you mind taking my
backpack?" I'm like, "You don't need to ask me that every day, chef; just
assume I'm happy to take it for you." He makes a cute 'face', saying, "Even
though you referring to me as 'chef' is insulting because you're being
facetious, I love you anyway. And thanks for taking my backpack." We slap
hands with me saying, "Have fun at practice, Rob. Text me when it's over
and I'll drive down to meet you where we always meet." He smiles, "See ya,
Dylan," and off he goes as happy as a... well, fill in whatever idiom you
want; I'm done with them.

Oh man, that takes care of day number two, and now there's only 158 to
go. I've got my backpack on regularly and Rob's over my left shoulder as I
walk toward the parking lot smoking my cigarette. At the pickup, I lean
against it and, with my cigarette between my lips and my left eye closed
against the smoke that's drifting up, I text Pony. Fuck, I'm uber curious
about what happened to him last summer that has him all messed up...

to be continued...

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

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

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

Donny Mumford

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

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