Date: Fri, 4 Jan 2019 01:47:47 +0000 (UTC)
From: Bill <mgtbill@aol.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter  26

DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter  26

by  Donny Mumford


As I'm driving away from Sonny's house I put a stick of Rob's Juicy Fruit
gum in my mouth hoping the gum will counteract my beer breath, and if it
doesn't... so what?

What I'm mostly thinking about though is the lack of excitement I felt this
afternoon. I'm feeling good like I always do after sex, but it should have
been more fun. Sure, I'm happy I ran into Sonny and all that, but doing two
haircuts for a couple of cute guys and then having sex with one of them
would have seemed much more special, more exciting, in my younger days.
Back then it would have been a frivolous and wild afternoon. Actually, it
would have been totally AWESOME! Or maybe I'm misremembering the past.
Could that be? Nah, it's more likely that getting older reduces that kind
of fun to almost 'ho-hum' status? No, it's not that bad! Not that bad, but
it's not a total blast anymore either. Jesus, I remember when doing
haircuts and having sex with a cute guy seemed like a rollercoaster ride of
exciting fun when I was young.

Not everything about getting older blows though. Being served alcoholic
beverages in bars and restaurants is cool. And there's no law that says
being a senior at college excludes me from some youthful fun even though
we're supposing to be gaining maturity which inherently eliminates some of
the things that I used to think were fun. And, Christ, once I graduate I
suppose even more of the youthful fun possibilities become frowned upon.
Maybe that's one of the reasons Chubby wants to continue with college after
graduating Merrimack... keep what's left of his youthful fun-times rolling.

The thing is, I simply don't have it in me to continue with more inane
'general' college education after graduating. I guess the kind of fun I've
enjoyed in the past is gonna quickly be replaced by the real world's idea
of fun... a sort of poor facsimile of fun, diluted, sort of a Miller-Lite
fun-situation for us mature types. Maybe it'll include a reduction in my
sense of humor too. Yeah, something I used to laugh my ass off at will be
worth only a smile as a mature college graduate. Maybe I'll add a short
chuckle with my condescending smile, ya know, to be polite.

After thinking about that negativity, I get back to feeling good again
because I'm on my way to see my lover-boy, Robby. Yeah, being in love for
real is another one of the few benefits of getting older. Puppy love was
cool fun back in the day, but experiencing the real thing is so much
better! Even though I'm not presently horny I'm still excited about seeing
Robby. Ya see when you're in 'real' love with someone it doesn't need to be
strictly about anticipating sex.

Obviously, I'm not horny but I wouldn't be horny even if I hadn't had that
side sex with Sonny. Yesterday afternoon Rob and I had some extremely
intense and awesome sex in our bedroom and more of the same last night
before sleeping. It was especially hot because we had the sex at home, my
other home, in our bed. Yep, that took care of any horny concerns for me
for probably thirty-six hours! Not that it means I's turn down an
opportunity for side-sex with Sonny. Obviously I didn't even though I
wasn't horny at all. And yeah, Rob and I have only been away from home for
a couple of weeks but it was still special having sex in our own bed
again. Brought to mind similar experiences all summer long.

Returning home from college for the first time to my second home was made
kinda special by Mr. and Mrs. Dickers. They continue to make me feel
welcome and, um, very much at home. Earlier this morning at my real home I
had the best and longest 'talk' with Mom I can ever recall having. I felt
wonderful after our 'talk'. So, yeah, I'm glad I decided to keep Rob
company this weekend.

My musings get put on 'hold' as I drive onto the Dickers & Son's main
parking lot. I wasn't expecting Rob to be standing here waiting for me like
he's waiting for a bus. Why would he? I park and go inside the executive
building where Rob shares an office with the company's real estate
manager. I forget the guy's name so I hope he's not in the office.

As I'm going upstairs I kinda feel out of place wearing jeans and a
sweatshirt, you know, because I'm remembering Mr. Dickers telling me that I
should wear a sports jacket or, better yet, a suit in this building. That's
obviously a wicked-outdated concept on his part. I mean considering what
most of the rest of the business world feel about the need for suits and
ties. With some exceptions like lawyers and bankers and I suppose some
others, suits and ties have become an archaic concept and yet when I got
used to wearing a suit to work, I sort of liked it. I felt professional,
you know?

Sticking my head into Rob's office I see he's in there by himself so I
cheerfully say, "Hey, Mister Businessman, ready to go?" Rob mumbles
grumpily, "No! Ten more minutes, Dylan." Huh, did I deserve that kind of
response from him? Silly me for expecting him to be smiling and upbeat just
because I'm here. I mean, he texted me that he was ready to go ten minutes
ago... not ten minutes from now. And, Jesus, when he left the house this
morning he was flying high, ecstatic about this new contract the company
just signed, and about us possibly living on Cape Cod, and all the other
great shit that was gonna go with the new contract. So what's the fucking
problem?

After pausing for a second, I sarcastically say, "Oh, so sorry to bother
you, Sir. Shall I wait in the car?" Robby makes a face like he's in pain,
saying, "Oh fuck, I'm sorry, Dylan! Oh man, c'mere." I don't 'c'mere' so he
stands up and walks over to me. Giving me a hug, he goes, "Forgive me,
please? Today's meeting wasn't the upbeat positive meeting I expected, plus
three minutes ago I got assigned to do a fucked-up report, literally two
minutes before you got here."

After making him wait a few seconds before I say anything, I mutter, "Oh,
bad day, huh?" He steps back, saying, "Terrible day! The all-day meeting
blew! Well, at first it was great, it was moving along fabulously until,
totally out of nowhere, that asshole Chuck Regan began politicking to get
his guy, some ass-kisser he hired last spring, to run the Falmouth office
instead of you and me. Then that cunt from finance, Mary Reimer, started
bitching because her budget was cut. She had some snarky remarks about the
company overpaying summer part-time help. That's the reason she couldn't
get an okay to hire a 'temp' while her department is preparing the
quarterly tax filings."

What'd he say about overpaying the summer help? I go, "Was that bitch
referring to me?" Rob's guiding me into the office with his arm across my
shoulders, saying, "No! Not you specifically, not by name anyway. As it
turns out, I guess there were a lot more part-time hires in the Westborough
office and also on the lawn cutting crews this year then was generally
known about. Also, there were tons of part-timers in Hartford too, mostly
construction guys and their trailer personnel, secretaries and whoever. It
was all fucked because no one was keeping count, no one was keeping track
of it. The company's expanding so quickly things like overtime costs got
lost in the shuffle with this huge project. But, no, nobody mentioned
anything negative about your benefits conversion program, um, that you
handled so beautifully." I mutter, "Well, if that bitch..." and he goes,
"Nooo, she wasn't referring to you specifically, although she may have
alluded once or twice to the biggest single cost being... well, never mind
that now."

Robby nods to the chair beside his desk, so I sit down as he's sitting
behind his desk. In a calming manner, he goes, "Who knows exactly what she
was referring to, and who gives a fuck anyway? Her snippiness got all the
managers chirping about their petty little bitches too. That's until Dad
blew his stack. We didn't get much done after that and now I've got to do a
part-timers report," and he points at a pile of printouts, adding, "All
those printouts were brought to me by Dottie just before you got here and
one minute after I got off the phone with Dad who told me about the
freakin' report I need to do."

I glance at the pile of printouts thinking how glad I am I don't need to
read them. Robby mutters, "They all reflect part-time expense sheets for
every department since we won the bid for this project. And no one has ever
so much as looked at them. Dad wants to implement a new part-time program
for next year, starting the first day of January, and he needs to know what
he's dealing with from this past year. He wants my report in two weeks so
I'll be working on this the next two weeks in my spare time." I go, "How
about the baseball team?" He says emphatically, "Oh, I'm still doing
baseball team stuff, that goes without saying. By spare-time I mean when
I'm not working on college shit or anything related to the baseball team."

When's that? I nod, mumbling, "That's a bitch, Rob, cause that doesn't
leave you time to eat." He mumbles, "That's a slight exaggeration but,
anyway, that's what got me in the sour mood when you asked if I was ready
to leave. I didn't mean to take my frustration out on you though," and he
grins adding, "Okay? Do you accept my apology?" Shrugging I go, "Yeah, of
course, no problem," and I know what I gotta do. I gotta do the right
thing, so I ask, "Can I help you with the report, or...?" He goes, "I was
hoping you'd offer... haha. I can't pay you because of the part-timers, um
thing, but you can definitely help if you're willing."

Not realizing he means right now, I go, "Sure," and he says, "Thank you,
Dylan!" I shrug like, glad to help, and he goes, "We'll start on that first
stack of printouts, the one with the big red circle around the word
'OVERTIME'. What? Yeah, we start right in on it and it becomes obvious
pretty fucking fast that this is gonna be a bitch of a job; a huge pain in
the ass job!

We find a very confusing set of record-keeping as if each department
handled it differently. Some paid out of petty cash which fucked up petty
cash records and it was like a domino effect where part-time expenses
distorted other expense records. When I got here to drive Rob home he said
he'd be ten minutes and that was at quarter-to-five... we're still here at
six-thirty with me calling off receipt numbers from one printout while
Robby checks the numbers off on another sheet so we don't have duplicates
of the same expense. To say this blows is grossly understating the
situation from my point of view. Why not admit things got out of hand last
year and start fresh? Fuck last year's overtime costs! Begin with a new
system the first of this coming year... simple! Oh no... that's too simple
for business people!

When I'm just about ready to start bitching that we need to get the fuck
outta here, Mr. D. walks by whistling. I hate whistling! He's obviously on
his way to the stairs leading to the parking lot. He looks shocked to see
us. He's like, "What the Christ...? Hey, guys, seriously, what the hell are
you doing here?" We both look up and Rob goes, "Huh?" and then, a little
pissed-off, he adds, "Well, what's it look like we're doing, Dad? Dylan's
helping me get started on that," and he points to the computer printout
pile. Shaking his head, his dad says, "Wow! I didn't expect that big of a
load of screw-ups. Jesus!" He picks up a stack of printouts and then drops
it, saying, "But Rob, you've got two weeks to do this. Mom's preparing a
nice dinner for us tonight. Let's go, boys." Like we're idiots for doing
this or something...

When Rob and I stand Mr. Dickers puts his hand on my shoulder, saying, "And
you're helping too, huh Dylan? You're really something, son!" Well, it was
nice of Mr. Dickers to notice, and I mutter, "Glad to help." Rob's looking
over at his dad like he'd appreciate some recognition too. His dad pats my
back now, adding, "You're quite the loyal, um, ah, partner for Rob, aren't
ya?" I shrug, mumbling, "Rob's helped me plenty too." I hear a huffing
sound from Rob as he's getting all the printouts in a pile.

Mr. D. has apparently said all he intends to though, and he continues on
his way to the stairs with his own pile of printouts under his arm, saying,
"I'll see you guys at the house." Father and son, both with huge piles of
paperwork take all that shit home to work on it there AFTER working all
day... and on a Saturday no less! Jesus... the business world, ya know?
What was I saying earlier about 'fun' after graduating?

Rob and I, both carrying a pile of printouts, catch up with his dad as he's
going downstairs. Hearing Rob clumping down the stairs, Mr. D. turns his
head, saying to me, "As a matter of fact, Dylan, Emily is making a standing
rib roast for dinner tonight. She claims it's your favorite." His dad
almost drops the pile of papers under his arm and then, as he's cursing
under his breath, I whisper to Rob, "She's making it for me? I didn't even
know we were staying for dinner." Rob makes another exasperated 'face'
shrugging and muttering, "Neither did I."

I say to his dad's back, "Well, yes Sir, that is my favorite dinner..., um,
prime rib, um, is..." At the door, he asks, "What?" and I add, "I was just
saying that's my favorite. Um, Mrs. Dickers is right about that," and with
my voice trailing off, I finish with, "Um, prime rib is my favorite meal."
He grunts something I don't hear, so I feel I should say something more and
go, "Whenever I'm out to dinner I always order prime rib, um, if it, you
know, if it's on the menu." Robby frowns at me and I shrug making a 'face',
mumbling, "I didn't know what to say," and then, for some reason, Rob and I
start giggling with him waving his hand at me and then pointing at his
dad's back. Well, yeah, we are almost junior executives after all. I cover
my mouth because I can't stop snickering and I don't even know why. Rob's
face is red from trying not to laugh as he mutters, "Stop! You're making me
laugh, Dylan."

Walking briskly ahead of us, Mr. D. wasn't paying attention to us. No, he's
struggling to hold the door open with for us with the pile of papers under
his arm slipping again. My snickering under control, I manage to say,
"That's very nice of Mrs. Dickers... I can, um, hardly wait." Mr. Dickers
looks confused, asking, "Wait for what, son?" He's already forgotten about
the prime rib, and he mutters to Rob, "Where'd I park the damn car this
morning?" Rob's doesn't hear his dad because he's again snickering at me
and nudging me with his shoulder while pretending to cough that partially
hides his muttered, "Brown-noser!" at me, and then I need to do a phony
cough myself to keep from laughing all over again. Junior executives, my
ass!

It all goes over Mr. Dickers' head apparently. He's got the printouts he
almost dropped under control now and we're all out the door. Mr. Dickers'
car is right in front of the building. In a booming voice, he says, "Now,
if only your mom doesn't overcook that damn rib roast, huh Rob?" Rob goes,
"Nah, she won't fuc, um, mess it up. What are we having with it?" His dad's
walking to his car, mumbling, "Hell if I know," and he turns to look at us
and, adds, "It'll be good though, whatever it is, right boys?" I say
energetically, "I'm sure of that, Sir," and Rob mutters, "Dial down the
brown-nosing, bro..."

Yeah, I know I'm being over solicitous to Rob's parents, what Rob calls
'brown-nosing', but I'll continue to err on the side of being a suck-up
because it's working. I'd think Rob would appreciate my efforts. I'm trying
to ingratiate myself to his parents so they'll like me and everything will
work smoothly in the 'family'. You know the cliché, if mom isn't
happy, then no one is happy. I would think that holds true for both parents
when considering Rob's and my gay circumstances. It'd be true for a
straight potential son-in-law, or daughter-in-law, but more so if the
son-in-law is, um, your son's intended. I'm pretty fucking sure being a
smart-ass isn't a better alternative.

Anyway, Rob's grumpy mood when I first got to his office appears to be
forgotten. Our immature giggling for no reason helped and obviously me
volunteering to work with him on the report helped as well so it's all
good. From what Rob told me about the meeting I thought his dad would be
bull-shit-grumpy hasn't been the case at all. He's been in better spirits
than normal so I haven't figured out businessmen yet, that's for certain.

Rob and I are getting in the pickup and I'm like, "Your dad seems fine. I
thought he'd be in a bad mood." Rob goes, "Yeah, that is odd. I guess he
compartmentalizes everything. Plus, he gave me all the shitty grunt work
for the part-timer's report so as far as Dad's concerned... that's taken
care of." I'm like, "You should be proud that he has the confidence in you
to pass it off to you like that." Robby chuckles, "It's just grunt work,
Dylan. Time-consuming grunt work. With you helping me though I feel ten
times better about it. We'll kick that report's ass!" I go, "Rah, rah, sis,
um, something. That's the attitude coach." He goes, "Seriously, your help
makes everything okay as far as I'm concerned... thanks, baby." I mutter,"
Aww, it's nothing," but I feel good that Rob's so appreciative!

Starting the engine, he looks at me and asks, "Ya don't mind that we're
staying for dinner, do you?" I go, "Nope. I'm looking forward to it."
Driving toward the exit, Rob says, "I love you... but you knew that
already, right?" I nod, "Yep."

On the way home, Rob asks what I did all day and I tell him about the
amazing talk my mom and I had and then about me driving around and not
seeing anyone I knew." He nods and mumbles, "Guys are away at college or in
the Army, or whatever they decided to do after high school." I go, "Yeah, I
know. Well, I did finally bump into Sonny and his friend at the Wellesley
Subway shop for lunch." He goes, "Wellesley? What were you doing in
Wellesley?" I tell without thinking, just driving around, I got on Route 9
and there are no exits until Wellesley. " He nods, "Oh yeah, I've done
that," and then I tell him how one thing led to another and I eventually
did haircuts with just scissors for both guys. Rob goes, "You gave me a
haircut with just scissors that time I was recovering from that major
operation." I go, "Major? It was an appendectomy." He chuckles, muttering,
"It was major as far as I was concerned," and then looks over, asking, "Is
Sonny that cute redheaded kid? One of the boys I played those baseball
games with a couple summers ago?" I go, "That's him, and every time I run
into Sonny, which is usually once or twice a year, he wants a haircut."
Haha, I sounded just then like it was a pain in the ass Sonny always asks
for a haircut... it isn't of course!

Rob's done with that topic though. Haircutting doesn't interest him much at
all, so he goes, "Huh, that's weird," I'm still chewing the same piece of
gum I put in my mouth two hours now. It's like I'm almost unconsciously
chewing it until Rob grins, asking, " And is that my Juicy Fruit gum I've
been smelling ever since you came to my office? I mean along with your beer
breath?" I go, "Oh balls! You caught me drinking a beer again. Yes, I was
drinking beers this afternoon, Daddy." He chuckles and then mumbles, "I
wish the hell I was drinking beers during that fucking meeting." Rolling
down the window, I spit the gum out. It lost its flavor a long time ago.

We catch a red light down from the office and his dad didn't, so he gets
home first. When Rob and I walk into the kitchen we hear the end of a
conversation that sounds like Mrs. D. is being a tad petulant with
Mr. Dickers, saying, "Yes, that's right, Robert! Dinner will be late
tonight and what do you expect? I know you and your work, dear, so I had no
intention of putting the rib roast in the oven until you got home." She'd
heard about the meeting fiasco I guess and figured Mr. D. would be working
later than this. He gives her a one arm shoulder hug and a kiss on her
cheek, saying, "No problem, Em. It'll give us time for cocktails, and
anyway I merely passed the pain-in-the-ass part of the 'problem' to my
number one son. So I'm good." Then he asks a question for all of us, "Who
wants one of my special Manhattan cocktails?"

He fixes drinks for himself and Mrs. D. only because Rob tells him we'll
have a cocktail after we take a quick shower. Going upstairs, Rob whispers,
"How about we shower together to save time?" I go, "Oh, um, if you want to,
sure. Should I bring the Astroglide?" Rob's like, "Well, I would if I were
you, heh heh." Sonny laid a good fucking on my ass, even if it was a bit
amateurish, but sex with Robby is a very different thing. I was horny when
Sonny and I did it and I'm not horny now but, as I've said many times, you
don't need to be horny to like having sex.

In our bedroom, as we strip to our underpants but, oh fuck! I'm leery of
doing this shower together, not to mention having sex in there, with his
parents downstairs. They seem occupied though, and there is a bathroom
downstairs, so it should be safe. The trouble is I get the distinct sense
Rob's not going to wait until we get in the shower before ravishing my
body. I detect that because while grinning sexily at me he grabs me and
gives me a special kind of kiss that tells me he's a seriously horny
boy. I'm not but he is!

There's another thing on my mind too and it's that I was expecting to get
under the shower and do some subtle wipes at my buttocks. I'm not a hundred
percent confident there isn't still a trace of Sonny's cum on my ass
somewhere. Rob and I have our side sex arrangement, which includes neither
of us flaunting it in the others face. Someone else's cum on my ass I'm
pretty sure would qualify as flaunting. There's probably nothing there to
worry about anyway, but I try to plan for what 'could' happen.

Finishing that first kiss with Robby, I'm like, "Oh man, Rob, that was hot
but I was kinda looking forward to the shower sex you mentioned."
Muttering, "No problem, babe," he takes my hand and pulls me toward the
door, saying, "Let's do it!" I pull my hand away from his, saying, "I need
to get the lube first," and, as Rob waits impatiently, I open the small
drawer of the bedside table and get it. He grins again, saying, "C'mon,
your man needs some sexy loving!" I'm like, "Robert, you're overdoing the
'my man' shit. If you dole that 'my man' shit out sparingly it'll be more
impactful." Robby's still grinning as he's messing with my short hair,
mumbling, "Oh, ya don't say, huh? Well, thanks for telling me. I had no
fucking idea that's how that works..."

It was me who started that 'my man' stuff so I'm stuck with it and anyway
he is 'my man', the same way I'm his 'man'... so no real problem. We go
down the hall to the bathroom wearing only underpants. Yeah, walking around
in my underpants in my second home... that used to be awkward for me but by
now I've progressed to only being awkward when we're both walking down the
hall to the bathroom in our underpants so, yes, this is awkward! Not for
Rob though, but come on... I mean, his parents aren't idiots. It'd be
obvious what's going on if one of them happened to be coming up the stairs
with us in the hall pretty much naked. Jesus, that thought crazily makes me
wonder though.. hmmm, what's Rob's parent's sex life like nowadays? Ewww!
Think about something else, dude!

In the bathroom, we drop our underpants and I get the water running in the
shower and then Rob grabs me, murmuring, "C'mere you," and we hug and kiss
with our naked bodies squirming together with me still holding onto the
Astroglide. It's been very exhilarating for me experiencing Rob's advanced
appetite for sexual activities lately and by lately I mean ever since I
moved in with him early last summer. It's the way I always fantasized it
would be but it does cause a thought to pass by my brain again, the one
about Robby possibly not having any side sex relief at all. Could that be
true? No way for me to know for sure, but if he isn't I'm benefiting from
his unfortunate circumstance.

Being an enormous fan of youthful male bodies, Rob's is as good or better
than any 'male' body I've had the pleasure of sharing so I'm quite pleased
we're doing this. We're the same height and both slim. Well, Rob does have
maybe eight pounds on me but it's all muscle. There's no excess fat on this
boy's body. Some of that is nature's gift but he's been into athletics most
of his life, so that's helped him have a hot body too.

And, like me, Rob is pale-complexioned and his body is mostly hairless
except for the few obvious areas. I've vacillated on the body hair issue
but concluded lately I still like the hairless male body best. I used to
totally dislike hairy bodies but over the years I've come to appreciate the
sexiness of some guys with macho hairy chest or legs, but my first choice
is still a body like Rob's. As for male sex organs, Rob's wouldn't be my
first choice although after five years together I can't imagine life
without Rob's penis in it... so to speak, and no pun intended.

We're standing next to the running shower water as it steams up the place
while we make out as if we've been separated for weeks instead of hours.
I'm experiencing awesomely sexy shivers snuggling together like this,
kissing and groping each other. I'm also letting Rob do most of the kissing
and licking and fondling and squeezing, only doing enough myself to keep
him going. It's the most marvelous feeling in the world to be desired like
Rob makes me feel. It's almost better than the sex itself. To be loved and
desired by the guy you love is one of the few perfect things I'm personally
aware of in the universe. Yeah, seriously, knowing unequivocally that there
isn't anyone on earth he'd rather be doing this with... well, what could be
better than that?

Our extremely intimate contact quickly has Rob's cock very hard and it's
bumping against my own boner. I get boners maybe faster than anyone else on
the planet. His fat hard one bumps my legs and stomach too as he licks and
sucks my mouth and face until neither of us can catch our breath. As often
happens, without letting go of one another, we both stop all activities at
the same time to gasp oxygen into our lungs. We're panting as our hearts
thump in our heaving chests. Gasping, I mutter, "Let's get under the water,
Robby." He nods, managing to gasp, "Uh huh." I pull the shower curtain back
a little and together we step over the edge of the tub one leg at a time
and then get under a very hot flow of water. The water is too hot actually
although neither of us does anything about it.

We stand here clutching one another and still catching our breath with me
holding the Astroglide. Sonny and I did it without lubricant three hours
ago and I am not anxious to repeat that, certainly not with Rob's fat
boner. Funny how doing it 'bareback' was never a major concern for me when
we were young, but then teenagers don't have a good record for being
especially brilliant.

All indicators from Robby tell me this is going to be fast and hard
sex. He's too aroused for anything more moderate. Plus, there's a dinner
timetable to consider, as well as time for cocktails. Yeah, we want to be
sociable with his parents before dinner so that's a consideration, but
fucking fast is still mostly all about Rob's ultra horniness. A condition
I've been in myself more than a few times although not recently. Last
summer was an example of that... well, that's ancient history now.

Rob takes another deep breath and murmurs, "Let me have the lube,
babe. I'll take care of spreading it around properly if you don't mind."
Heh heh, Rob thinks I take too long when I lube us up. I like stroking that
cock of his when my hand is thick with lube... ooooh!. Everything is
happening very quickly... it hasn't even been five minutes since we left
his parents in the kitchen.

While Rob's twisting off the cap and whatnot I take the opportunity to use
both hands rubbing my buttocks subtly under the water flow thereby
eliminating any long-shot possibilities there's a trace of random leftover
spunk from Sonny on my ass. And, no, I don't feel the slightest bit
guilty... why should I? Rob's and my arrangement is still one hundred
percent viable and his perhaps shortage of side sex, surely temporary, is
not unlike my situation on rare occasions. We both go through barren
periods from time to time but we have each other to compensate for that,
which easily gets us by the troubled waters, so to speak.

For me, the ideal circumstance is when both of us are having random side
sex. Rob sort of encouraged that when early last summer we formed our
little gay foursome of Rob, me, Hayden, and Danny. Granted, the level of
blaséness Rob and I have about each others side sex is sort of
recent... well, in the last year or so anyway. We've always been aware of
each other screwing on the side and and therefore random side sex is no
threat to either of us. I mean, it's almost an inconsequential aspect of
our love affair and while I admit that's a rather arrogant attitude for us
to have, it's working perfectly for us so far and... well, if it ain't
broke, ya know?

Robby has a big glob of Astroglide on two fingers. I certainly approve of
the volume of lube he intends using because screwing under water ain't as
easy as you might think! Rob hastily puts the tube of lube on the narrow
shelf under the shower head but it slips off and slides around the bottom
of the tub coming to rest at the drain. He snickers and mumbles, "I'm kinda
anxious. I guess you can tell," and then his two fingers with the big gob
of lube go into my ass. Both go in easily and after he wipes most of the
lube off inside me he pulls his fingers out and strokes his boner twice and
then wastes no time getting the head of his boner to my asshole. Rob goes,
"Oooh," as the head squeezes inside past my sphincter button, but oh God,
my body gets stiff as a board. There's lots of hurt coming from my
extremely stretched anus as Rob murmurs, "Sorry. I know that was too
abrupt, babe."

No response from me and now that we're docked Rob seems a lot less
frantic. The huge head of his boner is firmly inside my ass, the neck under
the head on that short fat log is very tightly just past my asshole's tight
lips. A slight backward pull assures Rob he's docked securely and he
casually puts both arms around me and snuggles the side of his face against
mine. Swell for him but skyrockets of pain are soaring around my head as I
hold my breath. My stretched anus continues barking out pain so I'm not
enjoying myself... yet. That's the bad news for me but the good news is,
thirty seconds later I'm already noticing a significant lessening of
pain. Yeah, only thirty seconds, although it did seem longer during those
thirty seconds.

My ass has quickly analyzed the situation and decided it's not broken and
therefore no problem. My asshole was recently stretched, not like this
obviously but it got stretched pretty good a couple of hours ago and is,
therefore, a little more elastic than it would be otherwise. Because of
that, relief comes quicker. Oh boy, and now that my wickedly stretched anus
has begun transitioning from pain to pleasure there's not only a real sense
of relief but a tantalizing trace of pleasure too. All the nerve endings
associated with my rectum are very versatile and just as willing to cause
pleasure as pain; it's all the same to them. Yeah, their motto must
be... whatever, dude.

The water is pouring down from the shower head hitting Rob mostly because
I've been pushed against the wall under the shower head and I'm getting the
second-hand water that splashes off Robby. He moans as he begins pushing
his boner up my ass and he's doing it faster than normal although probably
not as fast as he'd like. I'm still experiencing that mix of pain and
pleasure I mentioned and like I said the good thing is the pleasure is
overtaking the pain and the outlook for me is getting better by the
second. I close my eyes and bite my lip... and then shudder a little.

In ten seconds Rob's tightly against my buttocks humping against me a few
times. He's already breathing raggedly with a lot of his weight against me
so I can feel his heart beating on my back. Nice strong heartbeat too. He
doesn't wait as long as he normally does before pulling his cock back and
then driving it right back up my ass, and he did that with some 'oomph'
behind it too. And then he does it again as I moan, "Ahhhh!" with
sensations erupting in my rectum although it is still partial pleasure and
pain mix.

After Rob's fourth thrust, him grunting, "Umm!" with each thrust, I sense
my rectum's full pleasure train pulling out of the station. It's leaving
slowly but picking up speed as Rob's thrusts numbers five and six get
humped up my ass. He grunts, "You okay, Dylan?" and then he gasps in some
oxygen. All I manage as a reply is, "Uh huh," but mostly I'm noticing a
deeper pleasure now that my prostate is becoming fully engaged. Pulses of
pleasure are surging from that genius move on nature's part of developing
the prostate gland... good move!. Yeah, nature including the prostate gland
is a genius of an idea. And, Omigod, nothing stimulated my prostate quite
like Rob's hugely fat boner.

Water is splashing all around me as Rob's got a good rhythm going thrusting
his hard fat cock up my ass with the wet "Slap slap slap" sounds joining
our grunts and moans. It's a full-out, balls to the wall fucking that's
thumping me against the wall under the shower head, thump, thump,
thump... but I love it! The pain has been left behind as I moan, "Ooh, ooh,
ooh," and then I make a gasping request, "Harder Robby," and, without
commenting Rob's only too happy to accommodate. "SLAPSLAPSLAP"! Oh man, my
hard boner is tightly pointing up against my belly, throbbing with
pleasure.

Rob's fat cock, always a tight fit, is perfect for igniting every nerve
ending in its vicinity. My ass's nerve endings know they're being activated
when that big boy rolls over them. Robby's very dedicated to moving his fat
boner back and forth against the walls of my rectum as fast as humanly
possible so there's plenty of 'activating' going on inside me. In other
words, his boner is doing a helluva good job! The sensitive lips of my
asshole stretched to the maximum, are now liking it that way! This is
feeling just right...

Everything is perfect and I'm into doing quiet long moans as Rob's fat
boner continues doing its job but, of course, fast and hard fucking never
lasts long. Maybe four minutes tops and then my climax whistles blow,
basically announcing... 'here comes the orgasm express'. My impending
climax is the only thing I'm thinking about now 'cause there isn't anything
else nearly as important to me at this moment. Only in the back of my
brain, in a corner of my brain somewhere, I am aware that Rob's against me
humping out his first hard stream of cum as it just this second splattered
inside my bowels with my climax just about to burst into existence. The
feel of his orgasm hitting inside me sets off my climax with a BANG!
There's brightly colored pleasure balloons happily bursting in my mind as I
squeal, "Eeeeiiii," with cum shooting straight up reaching eye level before
dropping back down and possibly colliding with my second cum shot on its
way up. I didn't see the second exquisitely pleasurable ejaculation but I
sure felt it shoot out.

My right-hand leaves the wall to grab my boner and stroke it a few times
before tightly squeezing out some last drools of cum. "Ooooh," from me and
then, "Mmmmm," as I'm shuddering and relishing the pleasure sensations and
then sighing contentedly at the memory of the enormous pleasure spike at
climax. I shrug knowing it's all fading away already.

Robby's lying and moaning quietly against my back, his cock still up my ass
with me flat against the wall again. I wait a few seconds before putting
both hands on the wall and gently pushing us back until the water flow is
hitting off the top of my head. If Robby moaned and groaned during, before,
or after his climax, I didn't hear him doing it then but it's nice to hear
him moaning at the pleasure he just experienced with me being the one
gladly providing the opportunity.

After taking another deep breath, I mutter, "I had a very nice climax,
boyfriend." Rob goes, "Whooeeee, I almost fainted with mine. Jesus, babe,
did I ever need that, wow! I still feel dizzy," and he steps back pulling
his cock from my ass as steamy hot air goes up inside my wide open asshole
and my shoulders shudder a little at that. Robby is, of course, breathing
hard as he backs up to lie against the opposite shower wall smiling and
then mumbling, "That was great." I nod and smile back at him, saying, "Fast
too," and he pushes himself off the wall, saying, "Yeah, it was... but I
was horny."

As usually happens with recreational sex, we're ready to get onto other
matters now that we've scratched that itch. Grabbing the shampoo, Rob's
like, "Let's bathe ourselves quickly. After the day I had I need that
drink, that Manhattan." When we're almost done bathing, Rob asks, "Have you
noticed anything unusual about Danny lately?" Shaking my head, I go,
"No. Um, whaddya mean? Unusual how?" He shrugs without elaborating and then
we're both trying to rinse off under the shower head at the same time.

Getting out of the tub I'm thinking he probably means Danny's not doing
buddy sex with him, although it's only a guess based strictly on the fact
Rob's been extra horny lately. Those two were only doing it like once a
week anyway though, so that alone can't be the only cause of Rob's extra
horniness... could it? If not, who else isn't Rob doing it with that he
used to be doing it with? See, we don't know each others side or buddy sex
routine; mostly it's guesswork and maybe mostly we're wrong.

Dried now, we wrap a towel around our waists and walk down the hall to our
bedroom. We get dressed without any further Danny-discussion. Instead, Rob
talks more about his all-day meeting and thereby getting himself all
pissed-off and worked-up again. When we're dressed and going downstairs,
I'm like, "Rob, I'm gonna help with your project, so chill the fuck out
about that meeting for now... okay? Let's be cool for your folks and have a
nice dinner." He looks at me, saying, 'You're right, babe... good 'talk',"
and we both snickered at that.

In the living room, we see his parents are drinking cocktails and talking
seriously about something. When they see us they both stop talking and
smile at us. Aww, that's nice!

Mrs. D. says, "There they are," and Mr. D. goes, "That was quick, fellows."
Robby ignores that muttering, "How about that Manhattan, Dad." Mr. D. gets
up and says, "I have a better idea. C'mon, boys, I'll show you my secret
formula for the perfect Manhattan so you'll know how to make them
yourselves." We start walking to the kitchen with Rob mumbling, "I think we
already know how to make an eff'in Manhattan, Dad, but let's see about that
secret you mentioned." To our backs, Mrs. D. calls, "I'll have another one,
Robert."

In the kitchen, I smell the rib roast in the oven. It's a different smell
than a regular roast beef, probably all the marbling of fat sizzling
away. Fuck the cholesterol, I love me some prime rib of beef.

The alleged secret to Mr. Dickers' Manhattan is a dash of bitters which I
believe is included in just about every online recipe for Manhattans. I
personally think that the half ounce of cherry juice and the use of VO
instead of harsher bourbon are the two real secrets, but maybe that's
simply what I've become used to. In any case, Rob and I have two cocktails
before dinner which isn't ready until eight-thirty. In the meantime, she
baked some frozen snacks of pastry that's filled with various tasty things
like crab, mushroom, or cheese to hold us over during the cocktail hour.

There's a little conversation about Dodger not being able to join us for
dinner, which is very disappointing to me and then a long discussion about
the Dickers & Son business as it's presently constituted and what the plans
are for the next year or two. Mostly I just nod my head and eat more than
my share of the tasty snacks.

By eight thirty Mr. D. is half in the bag and being unusually gregarious
about everything including being complimentary of Rob and the job he does
for the company. Seemingly as an afterthought, he adds, "And his handsome
partner there," motioning to me, "Was a tiger doing those interviews last
summer, especially in Hartford. Nice job, Dylan." My mouth is full of
pastry and crab, plus a hot and spicy mustard dip Mrs. D. made from
scratch, so I'm only able to mumble, "Thank you very much, Sir." They all
chuckle at that and the entire little episode made me feel a little like
the family's lovable mascot... or something like that. More importantly, I
wanna remember to ask Mrs. D. what she put in that mustard sauce... it's
awesome!

Yeah, maybe it was the Manhattans but I sort of felt like the outsider
there for a minute, which I actually am. I'm obviously not really a member
of the family. Rob leans over and gives me a pat on the shoulder that for
some reason made me blush and Mrs. D. goes, "Aww, you're adorable, Dylan."
And that didn't fuckin' help at all!

Whatever, the dinner is delicious with juicy medium rare prime rib,
scalloped potatoes, honeyed carrot slices and a salad with a very good
dressing that I also would like the recipe for. I never do get the chance
to ask for it though. The Manhattans have the three Dickers loosened up and
therefore very talkative and that is NOT a complaint on my part. During
dinner, I eat too much and then we have coffee and ice cream. I believe
chocolate ice cream goes very well with coffee. A piece of cake with the
ice cream would have gone better, but...

I was hoping we'd be on our way back to Merrimack after dessert but the
three Dickers were on a roll by now so we all had after dinner drinks of
something very sweet and cherry-tasting called Amaretto. By then it became
obvious to me we were gonna be spending another night here, which is what
happens. Rob and I go to bed hammered at eleven thirty. The last hour,
after three or four Amaretto on the rocks, I became as chatty as any of
them and now in bed after washing up and brushing my teeth I'm trying
desperately to remember what the fuck it was I talked about.

Robby gets in bed and goes up on his elbow to look down at me, asking,
"Wasn't that fun tonight?" Um, not especially, but I say, "That dinner was
awesome, yeah." He goes, "I was looking at you when you were telling that
hilarious story of stepping in the mud when you were in Hartford and all I
could think about was how lucky I am that you're my boyfriend. My parents
absolutely love you too! I never saw my dad laugh so hard." Huh, that's
nice.

I'm drunk and very tired but I've been known to spring a boner when Robby
pays this much attention to me. Running his fingers back through my short
hair he's giving me compliments until, somehow seemingly on their own, my
arms go around the back of his neck pulling his head down and we kiss for a
while before Rob pulls my underpants down below my butt cheeks and fucks me
slowly in the leftover Astroglide from our shower sex. Yeah, I often say
this, but it seems true at the time I say it... it's that I can't ever
remember having a more spectacular orgasm than I eventually have
tonight. It was a long fuck and we're both sweaty when we climax and then
with Robby's sloppy cock pulling out of my ass and dragging over my right
leg we begin making out until he fucks me again. Unbelievable, especially
considering our booze intake tonight.

We don't even open our eyes Sunday morning until eleven o'clock. Without
talking we lie in bed for another twenty minutes before finally showering
separately. Later, joining Rob's parents in the kitchen we're all hung over
and consequently are very quiet and low key this morning. I mean except for
the forced civility people with extreme hangovers often use the morning
after. You know, no one is sure if they made an ass of themselves the night
before so everyone is polite. We have OJ, coffee, and poached eggs on toast
and then Rob and I get our shit together and bid adieu with as much energy
and appreciation for the hospitality as we can muster.

During the drive back to Merrimack neither Rob nor I say more than ten
words but every now and then we have silent little smiles for each
other... so we're good. We're hung over, yeah, but that's not a totally
unnatural condition for guys our age and we'll be fine. Maybe Robby's
thinking about the same thing I am, which is the reason for my little
smiles... it's our drunken sex last night. Actually, it's not only that,
it's that everything is looking good for us. It's almost embarrassing how
many things in life are going our way. We're very lucky.

Safely back in our apartment, with minimal grumbling we put the few things
we took home with us back where they belong, clothes in the hamper or
whatever and then Rob looks at me and murmurs, "I need a nap." Without
taking our clothes off we crash on the bed and shortly I fall asleep. I
assume Rob did the same. 'Sleeping-it-off' is an important part of the cure
for hangovers. I mean, obviously, in conjunction with taking something like
Advil for the headache part and dealing with the dehydration part by
drinking a couple of Cokes.

I don't open my eyes again until almost three o'clock. Rob's not in bed and
I'm dimly aware he mentioned he has an unusual Sunday baseball practice
this afternoon. Hmmm, I believe it's starting right about now... Jesus,
better him than me.

Lying here I'm analyzing my condition and happily realizing my headache is
gone and I don't feel as though I'm dying of thirst, so that takes care of
two of the more horrid hangover symptoms. A general feeling of 'BLAH' is
still present but my heartbeat seems normal and I don't feel especially
anxious or extra irritable, so I'm good to go. I can deal with a little
shakiness as I carefully get out of bed.

Standing here... huh, I'm okay. Well, we did stop drinking and get to bed
at a reasonable time last night. Rob's and my drinking companions were
luckily much older than us and therefore needed to get to bed earlier than
would have been the case if we were drinking with peers; ones who have no
more common sense than we do. So that worked out good for us. What didn't
work out especially good for us is we were drinking brown-colored liquor
all night. Yeah, there's a higher volume of congeners in darker alcohol and
congeners seem to cause the worst hangovers. I'm sure I read that
somewhere.

While putting pajamas on and then stepping into my sneakers, I'm thinking
of another thing we had going for us last night... we weren't
smoking. Alcohol and nicotine aren't a good combo if one cares how they're
gonna feel the next day. On my way to the bathroom, I'm not noticing any
dizziness or nausea and my sensitivity to light is as it always is. Blue
eyes have less melanin and are normally more sensitive to light, as
every-fucking-body knows, so it's normal that I'm squinting at the sunlight
coming through the window. Where the fuck are my sunglasses anyway?

Doing everything I need to do in the bathroom, I go into the kitchen and
drink an entire bottle of Strawberry/Kiwi Snapple along with two more Advil
just to be sure I killed those two primary hangover nemeses. I slip into
Rob's old Framingham High letter jacket and go out on the balcony to inhale
a couple of deep lungfuls of fresh air, and things are beginning to look
promising. It's a very sunny albeit cool day as we're approaching October's
bright blue weather. Yeah, like the poem goes: 'Love loveth best of all the
year, October's bright blue weather.' And why the fuck I remember that poem
from middle school I haven't a clue... and what the fuck does it even mean?

Where did that come from? I go inside realizing I haven't checked my cell
phone since yesterday afternoon. Hmmm, I'm actually not sure where my phone
is, a circumstance my beloved brother finds himself in regularly, not that
he gives it a second thought. That's Chub's blasé attitude while my
missing cell phone is disconcerting as hell to me, so I make that my
immediate mission... find my fucking cell phone.

After spending a frantic fifteen minutes looking all around the apartment,
I stop and think, then remember, duh!... it's in your pants pocket,
dummy. The pants I threw in the hamper last night. Sighing and blaming my
stupidity on my fading hangover I get my phone from the pants in the hamper
and check for text messages. There are a number of them, which makes me
feel good.

First I send my mom an email in response to her routine text asking if Rob
and I had a nice Saturday night. She's always been impressed with Rob's
work ethic so I was anxious to remind her about Rob working all day on the
third Saturday of our senior year. I say, remind her, because I'd mentioned
that to her during our 'talk' yesterday. Anyway, I go on to tell her we had
a nice night without mentioning any specifics because I'd thought we were
going back to college that night and instead we had the all-night dinner
party with Rob's parents. No need to mention that to mom. Mostly I tell her
how much our 'talk' Saturday meant to me and that I love her. Moms like to
hear that once in a while you know...

As for the other texts, I make a management decision like Rob always claims
to be doing, and answer them with an invitation to a barbeque dinner this
coming Saturday night. Why not have a welcome to the fall season
party. Yeah, and then I stupidly I invite people who didn't text me as
well. The invitations go out to Chubby, Pony, Danny, Carl, and Connor along
with their roommates. `I hope you can join Rob and me for a BYOB barbeque
dinner party this coming Saturday night'... that's what I ended my texts
with. BYOB meaning 'bring your own booze'. I'll supply and prepare the
food. Oh man, won't Robby be surprised! October's bright blue, um,
hangovers next Sunday...

After sending the texts I'm feeling good for a minute and then
think... 'What the fuck? Are you still drunk?

No, I'm not. Hey, it'll be cool but looking around... hmmm, where will
everyone hang out in this small apartment? I go out on the balcony again
and look at the ratty furniture the apartment complex considers appropriate
for furnished apartments. Two old plastic beach chairs! Nah, the apartment
management didn't put these here. I'm guessing these chairs were left here
by the girls who rented this apartment last year. We can buy some new cheap
plastic outdoor chairs. If everyone shows up, let's see, um, including
Robby and me that adds up to twelve guys at our place Saturday night. Hmmm,
if we leave the grille on it'll heat up the balcony enough so that guys can
be out here as well as in the kitchen and living room. It'll be fun!

Pony texts right back that he and Donald will definitely be there. Oh yeah,
Donald. I met him the night I picked up Pony at the airport. He's the
good-looking, tall black guy. Well, he's not black... he's tan and a really
good roommate to Pony. He's actually gotten Pony involved in doing some
kind of charity work helping disadvantaged kids at the YMCA... or something
like that.

His text also asks if he can hang out with me so I text him back that I'll
pick him up in ten minutes. Then Chubby calls to say he and John will be
there Saturday night and asks what he can bring besides booze. We talk for
five minutes and Chub gets me laughing so hard my headache almost comes
back. The bottom line is I tell him, please, that he doesn't need to bring
anything at all to the dinner, I'll have booze enough for him and John
blah. blah, blah. He'll bring stuff anyway but I tried. Then he wants to
help cook everything too, and I'm all for that! He'll come over some day
next week and we'll get Italian food cooking. Spaghetti sauce and meatballs
are just as good, or even better after a few days in the refrigerator.

As I'm going downstairs on my way to pick up Pony I realize, duh, Rob has
the pickup! I stop on the stairs and text Pony the news. He says,
"Well. balls. Um, okay, I'm going to the Quad so can you meet me there when
Rob gets back with the truck?" That's the plan anyway. I go back up the
stairs and into the apartment and two minutes later I'm like, well hell, I
don't want to hang around here! I'm feeling okay and last year I thought
nothing of walking to the campus from the apartment. Sure, this year our
apartment is further away, but it's still not much more than a mile. The
walk will do me good... get some exercise. And speaking of exercise, Pony
and I need to get back into that routine of running and then working out at
the fitness center three times a week like we were doing last year.

With vigor, I start out walking but it turns out to be a much longer walk
than I thought and I'm thinking this was a stupid idea by the time I
finally see the Quad off in the distance, still a hundred yards
away... Fuck! I'm conning myself by thinking... okay, so it's a longer walk
than I thought, but after twenty minutes I'm here. And that fucking traffic
light was fantastic! Yeah, the traffic light that the town put in last year
for crossing Route 114 is awesome! Heh heh, seeing all those cars coming to
a stop on both sides of the four lanes when I pushed the 'walk button'! All
those people in their cars had to STOP! And then I took my time sauntering
across the four-lane highway. Yeah, and I could feel the resentment coming
from all those drivers... heh heh.

Going inside the Quad I don't see Pony immediately. And then I spot him at
a table for eight. He's with four other guys one of whom is his roommate,
Donald-something. Jeez, I remember Donald being a really good-looking guy,
but he's even better looking than I remembered. He's a light skin African
American with European facial features so it'd be interesting to know his
family tree going back however many generations it's been since. Oh well, I
hate thinking about that horror story in American history. Christ, I hope
that wasn't a racist comment... the one about it being interesting to know
Donald's generational history. It was meant innocently enough but nowadays
I'm never sure about, well about anything when it comes to race relations
or political correctness. Fortunately, the PC police can't read
minds... not yet! Donald will be at the dinner Saturday so, even though I
know he's straight, it'll be interesting to get to know him better.

And, the reason I didn't recognize Pony at first is he looks very
different. I forgot about the haircut Pony was getting from Danny
yesterday. Christ, Danny gave Pony the same for-real flattop he did for
Carl. It's way too short, too severe if you ask me, although I won't tell
Pony that. It detracts from his cuteness index a bit, and here's an
important tip... flattop haircuts should never be your hairstyle of choice
if you wear glasses. The two do not go together somehow.

As I'm thinking these unkind thoughts a girl's voice sarcastically says,
"Um, excuse me!" I'm like, 'What?" and look behind me realizing I'm
standing just inside the door blocking the entrance. Mumbling, "I'm sorry,"
I move over and look at Pony some more. Poor kid looks like a nerd with
that haircut.

Oh well, putting a pleasant expression on my face, I start walking toward
his table just as Pony and his roommate are getting up. Pony stands there
looking self-conscious as Donald is doing some sort of elaborate hand
slapping and fist bumps with the other guys as they all grin. When they
turn around Pony sees me and gets this big smile on his face. He says
something to Donald and they split up as Pony comes right over to me,
saying, "Hey, look at this, Dylan," as he's holding up his cell phone. I
thought he was going to refer to his haircut, but it's obviously his cell
phone he wants me to look at.

I need to move my head back because Pony's shoving his phone in my face. He
goes, "Read it, Dylan!" With an exasperated expression on my face, I take
the phone from him and read a text from his dad. It goes: 'Omigod, Son, you
look exactly like I did at your age. Lucky you!' Love, dad'. and there's a
pix of, I assume it's his father when he was about Pony's age. In the
photo, his dad has a very similar flattop haircut to the one Danny gave
Pony. Um, his father does not look like Pony though. He looks older than a
college student and, um, he's not cute at all... very nerdy-looking
actually. I like nerds generally speaking but from the photo pix of his dad
I might make an exception in his father's case. He looks too smug without
any discernible reason to be smug.

Looking up at Pony, who's smiling so hard his cheeks could crack, I'm like,
"What about it??" and Pony goes, "Well, are you kidding? Obviously, the
selfie with my new haircut worked, Dylan! Dad said, 'love dad' at the end
of his text! I'm back on dad's good side now!" Oh yeah! Awesome! I thought
you meant ... oh, never mind." He goes, "And Mom sent an email telling me
how she and dad talked about me for a half hour and they're so proud I've
got my act together. And get this: she transferred an extra fifty bucks
into my debit account telling me to have some fun." Jesus, he seems so
young! He's not, of course, he's only ten months younger than me, but he's
immature, or I don't know... innocent or something.

Nodding my head, I'm trying to act excited for him, saying, "This is a
fantastic development, Pony!" He goes, "The pressure is off me now. You
can't imagine how relieved I am and I can thank you for that." I tug on his
arm a little to get him moving, saying, "No! The ideas were yours,
Pony. You just wanted to hear someone agree that they were good ideas, and
they were too. The, um, flattop was, um, a genius idea. You knew your dad
would cave in after seeing you wearing his lifelong choice of a
haircut. And, um, he wears glasses too, huh?" Good grief!

We're walking outside now as Pony touches his head, going, "Oh yeah, I'm
already used to this haircut and forgot you haven't seen it yet. Pretty
cool, huh? Danny says I look better with a flattop than anyone, with the
possible exception of you. That's what he said and then he said you don't
have the authentic flattop that Carl and I have, but if you did..." I'm
waving my hand and making a 'face', mumbling, "Please, I still have a bit
of a hangover, so ya know." He's like, "So I know, what?" I mutter, "Um,
cool it with the haircut chatter. Um, dummy-up a little about the flattop
conversation 'cause I'm up to my eyeballs with Danny and that already."

Pony goes, "Oh yeah, sure, no problem. It's just that I've been excited to
tell you about this reaction from my 'rents and how great my haircut turned
out. And now you're back and I'm wicked happy about that too! So, what the
fuck... I'm excited!" Nodding my head a little, I go, "Yeah, okay, um..."
and then I hug his shoulders saying, "Well, I'm wicked happy for you,
Pony." He goes, "Can I bum a smoke off you?" How come I don't know anyone
who buys their own cigarettes? I nod, "Sure," and get my pack of Marlboro
Lights out figuring I'll try one myself. The last smoke I had was before
picking Rob up at work yesterday.

We light up and Pony goes, "You know what would make this the perfect
weekend?" I shrug, "No, what?" He inhales and lets the smoke drift out of
his mouth and nose, saying, "You and me doing it. That's what!" I'm like,
"Yeah?" Hmmm, yeah, that works for me. Rob and I didn't have morning
sex... obviously!

I go, "Huh, okay, that'd be good but it's like a mile and a half or maybe
closer to two miles back to my apartment and Rob's got the pickup." He
goes, "I didn't mean your place. Donald's on his way to take some girl on a
date. We can use my dorm room." Oh jeez, that does sound tempting. I
really, really liked topping Pony the other day and we've only done it the
one time so far, so I'm like, "Well, okay then! Yeah, fuck it. Let's do it,
dude."

As we head for dormitory row Pony's even more upbeat, saying, "I love you,
Dylan. You're the most awesome friend!" I chuckle, "Yeah, right back at
you, Daryl." Hell yeah, some recreational sex is actually the perfect way
to finish off any remnants of my hangover. Jeez, I'm thinking maybe,
considering my compulsive nature, 'topping' could be addictive for
me. Doing it with Pony really fucking rocks!

I glance at him and he goes, "What?" I shake my head and he says, "Hey, you
didn't say what you think about my haircut," and he pushes his glasses up
using his middle finger. Haha, that's what Ryan used to do all the time
during freshman year... push his glasses up his cute nose using his middle
finger. Of course, Ryan was saying fuck you to the world when doing that
and I don't think Pony is. I rub up and down the bristly hairs on the back
of Pony's head, saying, "You look super, um, happy with this haircut." He
nods, "Yeah, I am. And after all the compliments Danny gave me about how
cool it looks I gotta agree with him." Ha, Danny complimenting his own
haircutting. Shocker!

Pony lightly touches his flattop, saying, "The more used to it I get the
more I think Danny's right that it is actually wicked cool and
different. It's bold like Danny said. He's an awesome barber. He's so cool
and sexy too. He gave me a long wet sloppy kiss right on my mouth when he
was done with my haircut and I swear I sprung a boner! Can you believe
that?" Huh, um, no I can't actually. I mean the sloppy kiss part, not the
part about Pony springing a boner

Obviously, Pony didn't notice I never said I liked his haircut. Instead, I
told him I was glad he was happy with it. Jesus though, am I jealous of
Pony getting a haircut and a sloppy kiss from Danny? Is it because Danny's
the barber and the sloppy kisser? And if so, which one am I jealous of?
Both of them?

Flicking his cigarette butt, Pony goes, "Danny's, um, I don't know, so
confident that it gave me the feeling I should do what he says, ya know?"
Huh? I mutter, "Do what he said about what?" Pony goes, "Oh, about me
needing to stick to a two-to-three-week schedule of haircuts; not any
longer between haircuts than three weeks! I promised him I would do that
and to be safe I'll do the two-week schedule. Haha, I wouldn't want to
piss-off my barber." God forbid...

I make a sort of rude sound, not wanted to hear any more annoying
details. But Pony has some more anyway, adding, "Danny says the shorter the
hairstyle the more frequently it needs to be re-cut." Oh yeah? I wonder who
Danny heard say that? I mutter, "Ya don't say..." And, almost to his
dormitory, talkative Pony goes, "Um, you don't mind, do you, Dylan? I mean
that I switch to Danny as my barber. If you do, I'll..." I shake my head,
"Nooo! Don't be silly." I'm going to fuck this kid so hard his cock falls
off! Haha, just kidding!

I manage to remember lubricant in time for us to stop at the dormitory
before Pony's. There's a vending machine area in the basement in this
building. We get Cokes and then at the vending machine that's full of
emergency hygiene items I buy an outrageously overpriced travel size tube
of Vaseline Intensive Care lotion for chapped hands. It's the only thing in
the machine we can use as lube. Pony's like, "Will that hand lotion work
okay, Dylan?" I go, "It'll be better than nothing."

Entering his dormitory, he whispers, "Um, would it be okay if I suck your
dick first? I love sucking cock." I go, "That's disgusting!" Jesus, he's a
lot like me when I was younger... heh heh, well, actually, I still like
sucking a cute guy's dick myself, come to think of it. He unlocks the door
to his room, mumbling, "Guess when the last time was that I got to suck a
guy off." Shrugging, I go, "Last semester with me, maybe?" Shaking his
head, he closes the door, saying, "Nope, it was like the second week of
summer break. You know, last summer before all the shit started happening
to me. Anyway, I got to suck off Chickie Fernandez four times that week and
I thought my summer was gonna rock. Oh, balls!... was I ever wrong about
that."

Looking around the room, I'm like, "Holy shit! It's so neat in here," and
Pony mumbles, "Um, yeah, it's mostly Donald's doing and, ya know, I help
because I don't want him to think I'm a slob or anything, so..." Then,
adjusting his glasses again, he adds, "Dude, I'm fucking excited! God, I
love having sex with you." I go, "More so than with Chickie
what's-his-name?" He's like, "Oh, that bastard! He was kinda mean, but I
was horny, ya know? Anyway, it was like I went from having steady sex with
you last semester to a cold turkey nothing... that was hard so running into
Chickie seemed like a lucky break at first."

I'm like, "Yeah, so how'd you run into this Chickie person?" Shrugging, he
goes, "Fuck, I knew Chickie worked at the ACME as a bag boy. We went to
high school together, although he was a year behind me. He's still bagging
groceries at ACME... haha, the loser! Anyway, I went to the ACME he works
at figuring I'd buy something like a pack of gum and then get in Chickie's
check-out line. I didn't even need to do that though because he was on a
break outside smoking a joint. He sees me and goes, 'Hey! You still a fag,
Ponti?'... that's what he asked me. I told him to go fuck himself and we
laughed and then he grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me to his car
where I sucked him off for like ten minutes."

Making a face, I go, "Jesus!" and Pony adds, "He wouldn't let me stop until
he blew a load in my mouth. God, he was awesomely crude and rough. He
slapped my face every ten seconds or so calling me names while I was
sucking his dick. Look," and he takes off his glasses showing me the frame,
saying, "The fucker cracked the frame of my glasses knocking them three
feet off my face and he laughed his ass off calling me a four-eyes
faggot. Christ, he was just as horrible as I remembered him being... and,
Dylan, it was so fucking sexy hot! I loved that rough shit. Ya know, within
reason."

Rubbing my crotch, I'm frowning at him as he goes, "Yeah, I went back the
next day and bought the pack of gum and as I walking past him he whispered
something about me getting my queer ass to his car and wait for him
there. I had to wait like an hour standing outside his car and man it was a
hot day. The whole time I was hoping to hell he'd fuck me, but he just
wanted another blow job. I don't know, but waiting for him I got myself all
worked up and I shot off in my pants even before he blew his load down my
throat. Then we did it two more times that week before the shit started
happening to me and I got too depressed, ya know?"

Good grief! I mutter, "Please, Pony, don't tell me anything
else... please!" He's fumbling with my jeans, "Yeah, but Dylan, it was
awesome while it lasted." Rolling my eyes, I let him pull my pants down. As
he's doing that, it's impossible for me not to stare at his haircut and
think how much fun I would have had doing that for him myself. Pony
mutters, "I like to do this the right way," and he gets on his knees,
pulling down my underpants as he's doing that. He takes a few seconds
making sure my jeans and underpants are all the way down at my
ankles. Then, looking up, he mumbles, "I like it when the guy keeps his
legs together while I'm sucking him off." I go, "Oh yeah? Um, how many guys
have you sucked off in your life?" He shrugs, "Not many, but I like to do
it a certain way."

Picking up my dick, Pony then licks it from the head to my shaved groin and
then around the root of my dick to my nuts. Well, there's simply no way I
can make myself slap his cute face like what's-his-name did. Pony might
like getting slapped, and I'd probably be doing him a favor by doing it,
but it's just not in me. I can get into spanking his ass when he insists
but smacking his face... no way.

And, holy shit, although he has very little technique Pony is so
enthusiastic with his cock sucking it's almost better than technique. After
a minute or so I almost hope he goes all the way to climax 'cause it feels
so good. The negative part, as I said, is looking at that terrible flattop
haircut of his. It's fascinating to me how Danny blithely cut both Carl's
and Pony's hair so severely short. Being fair though, that's how a barber
would probably cut it if you told him you wanted a traditional flattop
haircut, and that's what both guys told Danny. Even if someone told me
that's what they wanted I wouldn't have the balls to do it that short for
fear the guys would be pissed or disappointed. That never enters Danny's
head and in truth, he probably did the haircuts better than I would.

I tentatively run my fingers lightly across the bristly hairs on his head
with my dick stirring, imagining me giving someone a haircut like this
one. Heh heh, my dick is doing more than stirring from Pony's mouth
action. But fuck, I can clearly see his scalp, that's how short it is in
the center of Pony's head where his head slopes up a little. The front
hairs are only like an inch long, at the most. Yeah, this is the perfect
flattop for a guy in the fucking Marines maybe, but not your regular guy on
the street. As shitty as this haircut looks on Pony, I can't get over how
perfectly it's cut. It isn't that easy, so how does he do it?

I can't think about any of that for long though. I mean, Pony's got my cock
hard as a bone and I sense my balls moving up in their hairless scrotum. Is
a climax even possible this soon? My hands would normally go to the guy's
head but I put them on Pony's shoulders instead as I try stifling a moan of
pleasure that's building quickly. A moan slips out anyway, "Mmmm, oooh,
fuck Pony, nice job..."

My moaning appears to encourage Pony as his tongue wildly swirls around the
head of my hard cock with my shoulders shuddering as I definitely feel
stirrings of a climax awakening and, oh jeez, there go my feet shuffling on
their own a little... damn! Pony wraps his arms around my ass to keep me in
place and, holy shit this feels good! Yeah, but as good as Pony's lips and
tongue feel on my boner, I still manage to reluctantly and gently push his
head away, gasping a little before saying, "That's good...no, um, no
more... I'm gonna cum, Pony." He moves his head back with my boner slipping
out of his mouth on those sharp bottom teeth of his. No, he hasn't yet
fully embraced the concept of covering those teeth with his lip no matter
how many times I mentioned that last year.

My boner now free of his mouth snaps up wetly and tightly against my
belly. Really nice boner! I go, "Oooh, mmm." Pony mumbles, "How'd I do?"
Huh, looking down at his face I see some of my pre-cum on his bottom lip,
his face is flush with his eyeglasses steamed up. I nod my head as my boner
buzzes pleasantly and I go, "Awesome, as usual." I won't put a damper on
things right now by mentioning his razor-sharp bottom teeth. Pony goes,
"Goddamn but you've got the best penis ever, Dylan. It tastes good and,
dude, I'm fucking serious about that too..."

Oh man, I've run into a couple of horny boys lately, meaning Rob and now
Pony. My luck has turned around one-hundred-and-eighty degrees from last
summer. Since coming back to college I've already had sexy encounters with
Sonny, Danny, and ultra horny John Smith, not to mention Pony here and, of
course, my true love, Robby. Nice start to my senior year! And Omigod,
maybe in the future young Carl will enter the ring too, so to speak. He
seems to be flirting with me every chance he gets. Oh yeah, this year at
college is off to a flying-fucking-start.

Realizing I'm not going to respond to his compliment about my dick, Pony
pushes his glasses up his cute nose and scrambles up onto his feet. He
looks proud of himself, smirking at me and then, dropping his pants, he
asks, "Where's that hand lotion?" I nod at my pants that are lying around
my ankles, and mutter, "In the right-hand pocket of my jeans." Naturally,
Pony tries the left-hand pocket first since it's his right. He's not
deterred though and immediately goes into the correct pocket to get the
little tube and then holds it up to me, as he says, "First a hard spanking,
okay?" Oh fuck, I'm not feeling that. Not after his energetic oral sex, but
he'll be disappointed if I don't. He's already turned around on his hands
and knees, pushing his hairless ass up.

Can I believe he used a hair removal product to get rid of the few hairs
around his asshole? He's the first person I know who's done that! And I'm
not being critical at all; I think it's a good idea actually. Fuck, I'm the
guy who shaves his groin. Also, it's so sweet of Pony to try and please me
like that. To show my appreciation I suppose I need to give his ass a hard
spanking, but I seriously do not feel like it.

I try for his sake but can't pull it off though, and as I'm giving him a
half-ass medium, at best, spanking I'm wondering why Pony gets aroused from
rough treatment and then realize I do too. Not as rough maybe as the
treatment I used to look for, but I do like it rough and I don't know why
any more than Pony will know why he likes it if I asked him. He probably
never even questions the 'why' of it, and I never did either until
recently.

Damn, I know I'm not spanking him hard enough but I just don't want
to. Maybe in the back of my mind I'm picturing that loser, Chickie, yanking
Pony's hair while dragging him to his car. Frankly, I'd much rather go full
out Medieval on that prick Chickie's ass and maybe kick it up and down the
street for ten or fifteen minutes. I might slap the shit outta his face
while I'm in between kicking his ass too. That freak is sick treating Pony
the way he did.

When I see my hand make a white imprint on Pony's red ass I stop, saying,
"That'll do it for this time, Pony." He looks back while rubbing his
stinging butt cheeks, muttering, "Use a belt or something next time. You
don't do it hard enough." Shrugging, I mumble, "I'll give Chickie a call
and get some pointers. In the meantime, how do you wanna do this?" He says,
"Well, I'm liking being on my hands and knees, so doggy style is my
choice." I mumble, "Your choice it is," and I step closer to him as he
says, "Ya know, you should be the one deciding that. Do it any way you feel
like!" Damn, he's like my younger twin or something. Well, except without
him knowing the official terminology of sub/dom sex. He wants a dominant
sex partner dominating him roughly and he's stuck with a poor excuse for a
dominant 'top'... me.

His ass looks really inviting though and I'm aroused by the thought of
'topping' it. Being the 'top' is really taking hold in my psyche, but as
I've thought before... I'm not giving up being the submissive 'bottom' for
Rob and Danny even though they don't realize that's what I'm doing... in my
mind, I'm doing that.

Pony turns around on his hands and knees facing me now. He's watching me as
I'm pulling my boner down getting it straight out to lube it up. He
mutters, "Yum," and that makes me chuckle and then I squeeze the creamy
hand lotion all up and down the hard six inches of my nice looking boner
and then stroke up and down it. Oh man, does that ever feel really good!
Yeah, but it'd feel even better if someone else was doing the tight
stroking... heh heh.

Pony's on his hands and knees still watching me, so I stop pulling my pud
to reach over his back and put the nozzle of the tube into his hairless
anus. He goes, "oooh," and giggles as I'm squeezing most of the remaining
lotion up his ass. Dropping the tube, my middle finger goes in his ass and
I spread the lotion around making sure to rub over his prostate gland. Pony
moans, "Oooh, ummmm," as the top of his flattop bristly head bumps my leg.

He's squirming and moaning while I'm holding my boner without stroking it
and trying not to laugh at Pony squirming around as I rub his prostate, his
head up close to my crotch now. Taking my finger out of his ass, I chuckle
and then mutter, "It feels good and slippery in there now Ponyboy." He
says, "Your cock looks wicked hard." Nodding, I go, "Uh huh. Turn around
now." He grins, muttering, "Oh yeah," and he works his way around on his
hands and knees saying, "Do me really hard, Dylan! Fuck my ass hard!"

Well, coincidentally, that exactly what I have in mind. When he's facing
away from me, I push the head of my boner in past his sphincter muscle and
stifle a moan at how good that felt! Jesus, an intense arousal swarms all
over me and without waiting I thrust my cock up his ass at least four
inches. Pony groans and arches his back as I grip his hips and roughly pull
him back an inch or so. I'm trying to breathe quietly and that takes an
effort because I'm so hot to do this. Fuck, I'm really aroused at being the
big bad 'top'. Taking a deep inhale I ram the last inch or so up his ass
and then smack the side of his buttocks hard, "SMACK!"

Jesus, I feel like I'm gonna cum already! Trying to calm down, I leave my
cock all the way up his ass and hump against him almost knocking him
forward. He goes, "Aaaah, oooh, aaaah," and takes a hand off the floor to
start stroking his boner. I don't care what he does. Getting right into
this, I begin some fast hard thrusting with the inside of my thighs and my
crotch smacking against his buttocks, "SLAPSLAPSLAP," and the more he moans
and jerks himself off the harder I thrust my engorged cock up his ass. Each
thrust moves him a little forward on the small throw rug we're both
on. "SLAPSLAPSLAP," as my face scrunches up at the awesome sensation
blowing off my boner. Stupidly I'm watching my hard cock quickly
disappearing up his ass and then... here it is again and, oh man it feels
good! I smack his ass a few more time, "SMACKSMACKSMACK!"

Seeing how turned-on Pony is, listening to his moans and watching him
frantically stroking his hard cock, it's all such a huge fucking turn on!
In less than two minutes though my orgasm is already boiling over ready to
blow. My face scrunches up tighter, my eyes are closed with sensations
soaring off my cock and spreading all around my groin. It's almost painful
the few seconds before climax with my balls hopping in my scrotum so full
of cum, I want to scream... let it out! Pony goes first though humping his
hips and I think I actually heard his cum stream hit the floor, "Splat" as
I do an embarrassing squeal, my climax bursting on the scene filling Pony
up with my gunk. I shudder and see red spots in front of my eyes as I'm
humping against his buttocks pumping cum into Pony's bowels... and then
some more... a dizziness sweeps over me, and Omigod... wow, what a great
climax!

Trying to catch my breath as my heart thunders in my chest the thought
occurs to me that I actually shot off in less than two minutes! Very
Tracy-like, or John Smith-like. Us bad-ass 'tops' blow our loads fast! Oh,
shit, backing up I pull my sloppy cock out of his ass with Pony still
stroking himself and moaning quietly.

His forehead is resting on the floor now but he's still on his knees, his
arm moving slower and slower stroking his softening cock until he stops
altogether and lets go of his cock. I'm watching some of my cum drooling
back out of his wide-open asshole. I'm in sort of a stupor with remnants of
my climax still buzzing around my groin. The urge to push my cock back up
his ass is strong but Pony gasps in a breath and then flops over sitting on
the floor on his ass, his hands on the floor behind him. He goes, "Ewww,
I'm sitting on a big wet spot of your cum, Dylan."

Oh, fuck, I missed my chance to go for seconds. I mutter, "What'd you
expect?" He shrugs, "Yeah, I expected it to run out but it'd be cool if it
would stay inside me, ya know?" Pony's smiling his big cute smile, his limp
cock lying innocently against the inside of his leg, maybe stuck there in
some cum. His glasses are at the end of his nose and still steamed over as
he looks at me with that smile of his. Trying not to show how extraordinary
I thought that too-quick sex act was, I finally mutter as casually as I'm
able, "That was really quick, huh?" He nods and says, "I loved it even
though you treat me too gently. If you would just get rougher with me,
maybe call me some humiliating names and, um, be tough! Ya know?"

Before I can think of anything to say to that he jumps up and almost falls
on his face with his pants around his ankles. I grab him and he says, "Can
we do it again in a little while?" Actually, now that I think about it,
they're my sweatpants around his ankles. He's never returned the clothes I
lent him. I go, "Huh? Oh, maybe, um, I mean, sure..." and, letting go of
him, I pull my pants up, saying, "Before you pull your pants up let me wipe
that cum off your ass, Pony." He goes, "That's alright, I like your cum,"
and he pulls his underpants up and then pats his ass, adding, "It'll dry in
my jockey shorts." They're probably my underpants too. He's grinning as he
pulls his sweatpants up and pats his ass again, mumbling, "It's wet back
there."

Whatever, that felt especially good though. It's the newness of 'topping',
I know that's part of it, but it's Pony too. Everything was really, really
good. It's a very different sensation having an orgasm when I'm the
'top'. The sensations soaring off my sensitive hard penis were off the
fucking charts. I always thought taking it up the ass was double the
pleasure. Ya know, the millions of nerve endings in my rectum plus
sensations from my penis getting harder and harder until climaxing... all
that! Now though I'm not so sure because the extra high sensations coming
from my boner when fucking a guy's ass, the guy in that submissive position
it's, um, special. Me blowing out a 'topping' climax is just as good or
perhaps even a higher and more of an intense climax than the combined
sensations of a 'bottom' climax. It's a close call. But, fuck, I love the
submissive shit too... love it too much to give it up. Feeling dominated is
so sexy to me and, oh, I don't know...

I'm feeling so close to Pony now too. He let me fuck him and more than
that, he wanted me to fuck him. Hugging his shoulder, I say, "Here's that
kiss you were talking about the other day," and I kiss him on the
mouth. His arms go around me and we kiss for maybe a minute with my tongue
in his mouth the whole time. Separating slightly, his arms still holding
me, he pants a little before saying, "Can you do that again?" I go,
"Later. Let's hit the lavatory to clean up a little." He nods and mumbles,
"I've gotta pull out my sweatshirt so it'll hang over my wet ass. Hide it,
ya know?" I go, "Uh huh."

Without touching, we're walking down the hall to the lavatory. There are
some guys fucking around outside their rooms and I expect to see Pony
slapping hands with a couple of guys in his dormitory, exchanging bullshit
comments. Instead, a few guys nod at him and Pony goes, "Hi," obviously not
concerned, like Danny is, that we're going to the lavatory together after
spending time in his room. Most guys aren't gay and consequently wouldn't
assume we just fucked like Danny assumes they would, but I'm puzzled Pony
doesn't appear to be buddies with any of the guys we passed.

We wash up and then while walking back, Pony asks, "Do you think we could
have a smoke outside and then, is this too soon to do it again?" Looking at
my watch, I go, Nah, we can probably do it again after a smoke." He goes,
"This time, before you spank me, I'll let you make-out with me too, but you
need to spank me harder." I go, "Oh, goodie... I can make out with you!"

I'm acting blasé but the truth is I feel real affection for Pony and
I'm more than anxious to fuck him again, and I want to make out with him
too. I give his shoulders another hug, mumbling, "You're awesome, Pony." He
looks at me and says seriously, "It's so wonderful being back at Merrimack
with you, Dylan. My whole life is different and I feel like I'm special
when I'm with you. I love.." and I put my finger across his lips, saying,
"Right back at you, but you don't need to say it all the time."

As he's reaching for the pack of cigarettes I just took out of my pocket,
he mutters, "I'll say it if I feel like it." I chuckle and, as I'm lighting
his cigarette, his head bending down to the lighter I'm looking at his
haircut, and again wishing I had given him that haircut although, at the
same time, I know I wouldn't have had the balls to cut it that short.

After lighting my own cigarette I'm thinking that just might be the major
difference between Danny's and me although I don't know what to call the
difference... confidence or callousness or something in between... on
Danny's part I mean. Well, two examples actually. First, as 'tops' during
sex, he's naturally dominant when we fuck, and I mean without him even
realizing he's doing it... it's just how he wants to do it. That doesn't
come naturally to me at all. Similarly, Danny cuts hair wicked short
without doubting himself whereas I'm hesitant to do that, worried it'll be
too short. Hell, I'm not being critical... I wish I was more like Danny
actually. I wonder what that would feel like?

Christ, here's a thought! I hope Danny doesn't make a move on Pony or I
might find myself on the outside looking in. Yeah, if Pony experienced
Danny confidently fucking him I'll seem like the novice I am as a
dom. Danny would not only be Pony's barber he'd be his dominant 'top'
too. Pony snaps me out of my musings by bumping my side with his and, with
smoke drifting out of his mouth, he asks, "Whatcha thinking, Dylan?" I go,
"Huh...?"

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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