Date: Fri, 8 Mar 2019 02:08:37 +0000 (UTC)
From: Bill <mgtbill@aol.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter. 35

DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter. 35

by Donny  Mumford



As soon as Dodger and I walk in the back door, his mom calls from the
family room, "Dodger, please come here for a second, honey. Grandma wants
to ask you something." Smirking at Dodger, I'm like, "Heh heh, good luck
with that." He grins, handing me his beer bottle, saying, "Nah, they're no
problem. I like my grandparents. They're cool." Aw, that's nice! I'm like,
"Yeah, ya know I visited them last summer with Robby and your parents. I
think they're nice too." Dodger yells, "Coming, Mom..." and I continue
heading for the basement stairs.

After putting the Rolling Rock bottles on the ping pong table I consider
doing something about my sticky rear-end. It's the lubricant from the
condom Dodger used. It's not a crisis by any means but I don't want to take
a chance it'll wet through and be a wet spot on my ass. I'm almost positive
it won't but glancing over at the washtub in the corner... do I have time
and do I dare? Yeah, I'll take the chance. I turn on the spigot and glance
back at the steps, then quickly pull my pants down.

Most of the condom's lubricant got scraped off around my anus because
Dodger's cock is so fat but I already wiped as much of that off as I could
in the pool house using Hand-Wipes. Now the lube from inside my rectum has
warmed and leaked out. Not a lot but enough that I'd like to eliminate it
which I do using a damp paper towel. Naturally, I'm listening for any sound
on the stairs. Not hearing anything, I toss the wet paper towel in the
trash and use a fresh one to dry my ass. After pulling my pants up, I wash
my hands and, TA DA!... success! Patting my khakis on my ass and, yeah,
that feels a lot better!

Jeez, quite the ballsy move on my part, but it was a good bet no one would
be visiting down here. Surprisingly I'm feeling pretty good. I mean
considering my earlier hangover and whatnot. Yeah, except I wish I could
shake this lingering weirdness I'm feeling about what Dodger and I did. It
was kinda, um, wrong of us fucking right there in the pool house with his
parents and relatives celebrating Thanksgiving in the house. A little voice
in my brain is saying it's wrong fucking Dodger anywhere, never mind in the
pool house. Yeah, I guess. And I wasn't even horny. Hell, it's
Dodger... big deal. Old times with Dodger is all it was.

I don't even wanna think what the fallout would have been if any one of the
other ten people here had, for some unimaginable reason, wandered out to
the pool house and caught us? Why do I still take chances like that?
Dodger's two years younger than me so he still has a lot of that 'don't
give a shit' attitude of the young, who all think they're bulletproof
anyway. At my advanced years, I should know better! Even so, I gotta say
the buddy sex with Dodger did relax the, I don't know what to call it
exactly, the uneasiness I was feeling being around him. I'm glad that's
behind me even though I never understood what it was about... not really.

Not wanting to think about sex anymore, I think of something entirely
different: how happy I am for Mrs. Dickers that her dinner was such a big
success. She's a nice person and she put a lot of effort into that. Another
positive: my morning hangover is pretty much over with and a third positive
thought: Thanksgiving has been a good day so far. Ya know, except for
that. Dammit, I want to be better than that. I'm not a kid anymore.

Another thing I need to acknowledge I'm grateful for is my boyfriend. I
don't deserve Robby but I'm happy he doesn't know that. Heh heh, on a
selfish note, I'm also 'grateful' Rob had someone to watch those baseball
videos with. Or, with a Thanksgiving vibe, I suppose I should say I'm
'thankful' that now I won't need to watch them. Hell, Robby and Josh are
probably getting their rocks off watching the videos. No, not literally
getting their rocks off... not that kind of 'rocks'! 'Figuratively' they're
getting their rocks off watching videos of baseball pitching and
hitting. We all have different passions; nothing wrong with that.

Oh, I've finished my self-analysis just in time as here comes Dodger. He
hops lightly off the last two steps, saying, "Oh man, my grandparents make
me laugh. They're so funny blatantly asking me personal fucking
questions. No hesitation, they come right out asking me the most
embarrassing things," and then he smirks, adding, "Oh, and I didn't know
your other name was Daryl." I laugh, "Yeah, that's what they call me." He
grabs his bottle of beer off the ping pong table and chugs a few
swallows. Holding the bottle up to the light, he says, "Just dregs left in
this fucker. I'm getting another beer. How 'bout you?" I shake my head,
muttering, "Nah, I'm good," and as he walks over to the basement
refrigerator, he goes, "Yeah, I had to hear Grandma tell me how Rob and his
'friend', Daryl, visited them and they wanted to know why I don't visit
them, ya know?" I snicker and he chuckles, muttering, "Yeah, go ahead and
snicker but you're getting my ass in trouble, bro." I go, "Yeah, I made a
big impression on them... they couldn't even remember who I am."

Loud clumping on the steps get Dodger and me looking over and here comes
Robby followed silently by Josh. Rob looks tired. Josh tells Dodger and me,
"Wow, they do it right over there at Merrimack College. Professional videos
with slow motion, stop and reverse. I was impressed."

We don't talk about that too long though. Instead, as we drink a couple of
beers we're mostly into some general ball-busting just for shits and
giggles but that ends when Mr. Dickers calls down to us, "C'mon upstairs,
boys. Spend some time with us old folks." After making 'faces' at each
other we go upstairs where Mr. Dickers pats Robby and Dodger on the
shoulders, saying, "Your aunt and uncle and grandparents would like to see
a little of you two guys," and glancing at Josh and me, he adds, "And your
friends, Daryl and Josh." He chuckles at his own joke and pats my
back. Mr. Dickers can be a pretty good guy after he's had a couple of
cocktails. Not that he's a jerk when he hasn't had a couple; then he's just
more businesslike.

So we spend a semi-tedious forty-minutes making small talk with the six
adults. Rob and Dodger do ninety percent of the talking, which is only
right. Josh and I happily stay out of it, for the most part, speaking only
when spoken to directly. Mostly we just nod our heads or smile, whatever
seems appropriate to what's being said.

Finally, Aunt Paula and Uncle Richie need to leave to meet their daughter
who has a friend in one of the Boston suburbs... a guy friend. Uncle Richie
is drunk although no one comments on that, certainly not me. And then
shortly after the aunt and uncle leave, there's some yawning from Grandpop
and Grandma so they decide to rest for a while, which I assume means take a
nap. That's a very good thing too because it means that now Robby and I get
to do the same thing without being rude by just getting up and leaving
them.

The grandparents wait a few minutes after saying goodbye to Aunt Paula and
Uncle Richie, then they go up to their room to nap. After a few more
minutes of chit-chatting with Rob's parents, I'm like, "Gee, Rob, we
probably could use a little nap ourselves before heading out for another
Thanksgiving feast." Mrs. Dickers says, "That's a smart idea, Dylan. I'm
sure your mom has gone to a lot of trouble and you boys are looking a bit
tired."

My mom is probably not going to a lot of trouble. More likely she's getting
in the twins' way as they prepare dinner for tonight. Mom will want to be
helpful but she isn't skilled in the culinary arts, not at all. Mr. Dickers
yawns now and says, "Hell, everybody needs a nap on Thanksgiving,
especially after a wonderful meal like you prepared, Em," and he pats her
leg, adding, "And I'm going to do that very thing right after I have
another taste of this Cognac."

Yeah, they're both into the after-dinner drinks again. Mrs. D. says, "I'll
have another small one too, Robert," and he takes their crystal glasses to
the kitchen. What they're drinking is technically a Cognac, but it's better
known as an orange-flavored liqueur called Grand Marnier. Rob and I had one
after dinner with his parent a month or so ago. Not delicious by a long
shot, but not undrinkable either.

In our bedroom, Rob and I take our clothes off and get under the covers but
not to mess around. Robby's asleep the second his head hits the pillow. I'm
lying here wondering if I should feel guilty about having sex with Rob's
brother. Truth is though I can't quite reach full guilt-level. Bad
judgment, yeah, definitely! Still, I'm not feeling especially guilty
although I don't feel good about it either. I'm pretty sure Robby's not
having side sex anymore, but that's strictly his choice and really doesn't
have much to do with me having side sex. It's like this... until the two of
us change the game known as the 'arrangement', then side-sex is still in
play. Damn though, I wish to hell I could stop fixating on it. And then,
just before I fall asleep I remember to set an alarm on my cell phone.

At six-thirty, the cell phone alarm beeps me awake and I know right away
we're not going to get to my family's festivities by seven o'clock. I'm
groggy and still 'full' from the dinner I had at two o'clock, plus my
stomach's feeling a little sloshy from the beers I drank. It wasn't a
lot... I opened five bottles but only drank about the equivalent of three
beers and then, of course, the wine with dinner. So today's booze intake
wasn't too bad except I never did totally recover from last night, and I'm
feeling kinda beat-up. That's a better way to describe how I fell... I feel
beat up. Another shower would surely help and, of course, brushing the hell
out of my teeth is the very first thing on my agenda.

As I'm getting out of bed, Robby mumbles, "What's our plan of attack for
the rest of the day, babe?" I say, "First thing I'm gonna do is text mom to
say we're running late, and then I'm gonna brush my teeth and take a quick
shower. That's all the plans I have so far." He's on his stomach with his
face partially hidden in the pillow as he mutters, "I'm gonna do whatever
you do, um, whenever you're done doing it... whatever it is." Huh, I think
he's back to sleep already. I look at him for half a minute but he doesn't
move. How the hell can he go to sleep in one second like that?

Walking down the hall, it hits me. Oh fuck, the grandparents are in that
guest bedroom right next to the bathroom. Their bedroom door is closed, but
oh man what if one of them has an old person emergency of some kind and
needs to 'go' immediately and I'm in the bathroom? My next thought
is... 'Fuck it, I don't care!'. Nothing I can do about it. I go into the
bathroom and close the door. Then, looking at the door for a second, I push
in the button on the doorknob to lock it, and then jiggle the knob to make
sure it's locked.

Without giving the grandparents another thought, I do what I need to
bathroom-wise, which starts with another long piss and ends with me drying
myself after the shower. I am feeling better now too. The shower perked me
up and my mouth feels fresh after brushing my teeth. Not wanting to put my
previously worn underpants back on, I wrap the towel around my waist,
unlock the door and then snicker to myself. Before opening the door, haha,
I can't help picturing one of Rob's grandparents standing right outside the
door waiting to get in here. Probably going from one foot to the other
needing to take a shit so bad they're tasting it. That visual makes me
chuckle out loud and then I feel bad for thinking that. I'm terrible!

Still snickering 'cause I can't help myself, I open the door and, of
course, there's no one waiting. In the bedroom I see Robby standing at the
desk putting the videos he brought home with him back in a satchel. He
turns his head, saying, "That Josh guy knows his stuff about
pitching. What'd you think of him, babe?" Dropping the towel, I get clean
jockey shorts from a bureau drawer and say, "He's okay I guess. I mean, he
seems like a good guy, don't ya think?" Robby nods his head, "Yeah, I like
him," and that's all we have to say about Josh.

And that's a good thing although I can't believe Dodger would care if Robby
knew he and Josh we're sex buddies. Dodger said he 'kind of loves' Josh or
words to that effect, but he could have meant something other than 'being
in love'. I wish the best for Dodger but after today I'm rethinking our
buddy- sex status. He appears to more or less still be that person I knew
as a boy, but I don't like this feeling we did something we shouldn't
have. Maybe it's that I no longer know him well enough for us to be
buddies. We used to be, but... ah, I don't know what I mean. Dodger's got
his steady 'squeeze' now and Josh seems to be a fine boyfriend so I'm going
to leave it at that.

As Rob gets clean shorts to take with him to the bathroom, I fill him in on
my idea of us staying at mom's condo tonight. He likes that idea! Nodding
his head, he goes, "Great idea, Dylan! Let's pack some stuff to take with
us." and we both but some toiletry articles, underwear, sweatpants,
sweatshirts, and sneakers and socks, and crap like that in the same
satchel. Then we squeeze in my laptop. One laptop is enough, Robby can use
mine if he needs to, and he probably will because he'll want to text guys
about playing football tomorrow.

Finished with that, Robby goes to take his shower. I'm feeling okay except,
and I don't know why this is but I always find something to worry about. My
latest worry is I sensed something's in the air with Robby. Something
wasn't right with him. I'm getting some weird vibes or something. Why is
that? No way he could know about Dodger and me. No, it's more likely the
weird 'vibes' are my own.

Wearing only underpants I get Rob's travel iron from the closet. Then,
using the bed as an ironing board, I iron the clothes I wore earlier
today. As I'm doing that I'm looking for stains, food stains or the other
kind, but don't see any. So that's good! Yeah, this so-called travel iron
most definitely is not the greatest iron I ever used but it works. Huh, my
clothes do look better when I'm done. Well, since I've got the time, what
the hell, I iron Rob's khakis and his dress shirt too. All these clothes
are supposed to be wrinkle-free, meaning they don't need ironing. Haha to
that!  I think what wrinkle-free really means is they're wrinkle-free if
you don't care about wearing clothes with wrinkles.

Getting dressed and then fussing with my hair for ten seconds I'm thinking
how Dodger and Josh both told me they liked my haircut. They seemed
super-sincere too! Huh, I'll be damned... Danny was right I guess. Oh yeah,
I wonder if Danny told his mom he's gay and, if he did, how she took the
news. It'd be terrible if that ruins their Thanksgiving! Oh balls, and I
was the one who encouraged Danny to tell her. Ya see how I can find things
to worry about!

Yeah, but Mrs. Monday seems very nice and I can't believe she'd be anything
but supportive of Danny. I've never understood how anyone can hold it
against their child for being gay! I mean it's not like the kid woke up one
morning and make the decision he'd be gay. Okay, maybe the parents are
disappointed for their own selfish reasons, wanting grandchildren for
example, or whatever. Gays can adopt children. Or maybe a parent might be
concerned their child being gay will result in a more difficult life for
him, or some legitimate concerns along those lines... but to not be
supportive, to not give the child parental approval and love! I can't
understand that bullshit at all.

Robby comes in the bedroom, asking, "What's wrong, Dylan? You looked
upset." I go, "Oh, no, nothing like that. Nothing I can do anything about
anyway," and I tell him about Danny maybe or maybe not telling his mom he's
gay and how I was just thinking about it... kinda worrying about it. Rob's
putting on clean socks, saying, "Well, whatever you do, don't text him! Ya
never know about things like that, and it is Thanksgiving." What? Robby
never says obvious shit like that. It kinda pisses me off he felt he needed
to say that so I emphatically go, "Well, aren't you the champion of the
obvious. I wasn't going to text him! Anyway, we'll find out tomorrow if he
plays football with us." Rob goes, "Sorry, oh, I didn't tell you, did I?" I
go, "Oh no, what didn't you tell me?" and he says, "We don't need to work
tomorrow." I'm like, "Well for chrissakes, Rob, that's what I thought in
the first place, and then just now I thought you were going to say we did."

Dressed now, Robby goes, "Well excuse me," and then he holds his arm out
looking at his shirtsleeve, and goes, "Hey, did you iron my clothes?" I nod
and he comes over to give me a hug, saying, "Thank you. I love you,
Dylan... you know that right?" Shrugging, I mumble, "Sure. Um, but I hope
you're still telling me that when I'm home all day cleaning the house,
cooking, and ironing for you after we're married." He goes, "Fuck that,
baby! We'll hire a maid," and then without hesitating, he asks, "Oh, by the
way, did you and Dodger, um, do it in the pool house when Josh and I were
watching videos...?" What? Where the fuck did that come from?

Caught totally off guard, I'm like, "What, huh?" He asks, "Did you?" I do
an elaborate shrug as I'm muttering, "What a fucked-up question." Rob
calmly says, "No, it's just a regular question, babe. Did you guys fuck?"
Snorting out a chuckle as if what's the big deal, I then mutter, "You're
serious? Oh, well, it was no big deal if that's what you mean. C'mon, it
was just for old time sake... it wasn't anything, um..." Robby lets go of
me and goes, "Oh? No big deal, huh? Okay, that's alright then. For old time
sake, you say? In that case, we'll forget about it, but Dylan, never do
that again with Dodger... ever."

Fuck, I could mention our arrangement that he's apparently completely
forgotten about, but instead, I mutter, "I don't know why... um, it wasn't
anything." He hugs me and says, "Sure. Listen to me, Dylan. I've never been
more serious about anything before in my life. I need you to promise me you
won't have sex with Dodger again." I frown, "You need me to promise? I
mean, what's that? I need to promise about shit now?" He rubs my shoulder,
quietly saying, "Yes, I need you to promise me." I shrug away from his
hand, muttering, "I'm not your son. Don't talk to me like I'm ten years
old, okay?" He quietly says, "Dylan?" putting some emphasis behind it and I
go, "Yeah, alright already." Holding me in his arms again, my body stiff as
a board, he asks, "Was that a promise?" I go, "For Christs sakes, yes, I
promise."

Letting go of me, he says, "I'm sorry this upsets you. You are I are
supposedly getting married, Dylan, and somehow I can't, um, I won't allow
you and Dodger to have sex. I thought I could wait until we actually were
married before mentioning this but, where my brother's concerned, I
can't. I don't want you two having sex and I'm sorry if you think it's
unfair, I mean as far as our 'arrangement' goes." I'm looking away, looking
in the mirror and fucking with my hair again. Fuck, I feel
humiliated. That's wasn't right of him, humiliating me like that. I
know... I'm acting as though I'm the victim here.

Robby's quiet for a second and then he says, "It's mostly a brothers thing,
Dylan. You're mine, um, well I don't mean you're mine like I own you... but
you're not his. Ya know...?" I turn to look at him with a scowl on my face,
and he says, "Be mad at me if you must, but just don't do it again, that's
all. Um, please." I make another face, muttering, "I already fucking said I
wouldn't. Do you need me to write it on a blackboard fifty times."?

See... he feels he needs to explain himself further, "Dylan, I wanna be
true to our thing, our childhood arrangement, but it can't include my
brother anymore! Not when you and I are this close to being married... one
semester away. Or sometime next summer anyway, whenever you say. Ya know,
baby, it's one thing if you feel you still must do your buddy sex thing
with Danny and that Pony kid who, by the way, follows you around like a
puppy dog. Those guys I can tolerate, but not my brother. Can't you see how
he's different?"

Controlling my temper because I guess in some ways he's partially right, I
go, "Yeah, yeah... how many times are you gonna say the same thing? Fuck,
ya don't need to beat a dead horse over it. And what about Carl following
you around like a puppy?" Rob's startled, saying, "Carl? He and I hardly
touch, never mind have sex. You know that! Do you mean me putting my arm on
his shoulder? I'm just bonding with him... mentor and mentee, or some such
crap. I'm doing my fucking job!" I go, "Please, with that job bullshit!"
and he adds, "What the hell are you talking about? He asked you to break
his cherry, or whatever... not me! Um, have you, by the way?" I wave a hand
at him, "No, of course not! When would I have had the chance? He just told
me Saturday." Robby goes, "Whatever. I don't care about any of that
anyway." I mutter, "Good," and he says, "And just so you know, I'm gonna
tell Dodger the same thing I told you." I make an exasperated sound and
Robby says, "And now I'm done talking about it forever... and I'm very
sorry to have upset you. I love you and I thank you for agreeing with me on
this. Thank you for promising me."

I'm still at the mirror fussing with my hair although there's no reason
to. Silence in the bedroom for a few too many seconds, so I mutter,
"Christ, you didn't need to go into some huge lecture. I'm not stupid... I
got it the first time!" He walks up behind me and puts his arms around me
and then looks at our reflection from the mirror for a second, and then
murmurs, "Why do you keep fussing with your hair? It looks good the way it
is, babe," and he kisses the side of my neck and then looks at our
reflection again, and asks, "Is that the expression you're thinking about
showing at your family's Thanksgiving dinner? It's cute like all your
expressions, but they might misinterpret it as you being pissed off at
something." I lean back against him, sighing and mumbling, "I'm not pissed
off," and then I do a big fake smile. Robby goes, "Perfect! You look just
like The Joker in that old Batman movie."

I stop screwing around and look into Robby's eyes from our mirror
reflection. He looks back and then murmurs, "What?" and I mumble, "I'm
sorry. No more screwing with your brother, I promise." He kisses my neck
again and says, "Thank you and, oh God, you smell good! I'm so glad you
washed off that aftershave lotion from this morning." Turning around, I hug
him and we kiss and then he goes, "Are we ready for another Thanksgiving
dinner?" I go, "We better be. When we get there I'm having a big mixed
drink with lots of liquor in it." Rob squeezes my shoulders... and then he
gets us walking downstairs with him carrying our satchel.

Clumping downstairs next to me he gives the back of my neck a little
squeeze, asking, "We good, baby?" I nod my head, my face feeling hot. Fuck,
did I get my ass handed to me, or what? Goddammit, I knew Dodger and I
shouldn't have done that; not here... not on Thanksgiving. I mumble, "Yes,
Robby, we're better than good, and I love you too." He murmurs, "I know you
do, baby." He's my man, and that's that. I started this 'my man' shit so I
guess I better get used to living it.

Rob's parents are still drinking their Grand Marnier after-dinner
cocktails. Ha, I'm guessing Robby didn't get his low tolerance for booze
from either of those two. That low-booze-tolerance gene Robby inherited
must have skipped a generation. Probably it's from his sweet Grandma who
was drinking cranberry juice all day. Robby puts his arm possessively
around the back of my waist as we thank both his parents for a great
Thanksgiving and then Rob tells them about us sleeping at my condo
tonight. He looks at me while giving my side a squeeze, as he tells them,
"It was Dylan's great idea. And, ya know, his mom's condo is only a
ten-minute drive from the twin's condos, right babe?" I nod, mumbling, "Uh
huh." They both think that's a wise move. And probably when the
grandparents learn of it they'll think it's a wise move
too... bathroom-wise.

We're quiet in the pickup as Rob drives us to my family's Thanksgiving
dinner. Even though I normally don't like being silent when it's just me
and one other person, after all our years together I'm usually comfortable
being silent with Robby... him and Chubby. Even when it's just my mom and
me I prefer if one of us is talking. That's unless we're both reading or
watching TV... something like that. Yeah, I'm perfectly fine with being
quiet when I'm with Robby and I have been since the beginning of the
summer. We've gotten so tight since I moved in with him and his parents. I
mean, we were lovers for years so we were tight then too, but the past five
months we've grown together in special ways other than just the sex we've
always shared together. Us living at college is different than living
together in his house. I mean I'm basically making his bedroom 'our'
bedroom filled with 'our' stuff on a completely equal basis and Rob's fine
with that. He never once has said anything like 'This is my house so you've
gotta do this or that...'. There was never a hint of any bullshit like
that. The thought would never enter his mind, frankly. That's not how Rob
is.

So, yeah, we've become really tight but, obviously, in the situation we
just had Rob exerted what he felt, was his prerogative. I suppose he felt
it was since he's 'the man', the one of us who ultimately has the final
'word' on things. There's no other conclusion I can reach. I suppose I
agreed to that sometime in the past. It's hard to remember everything I've
agreed to over the years. Yeah, never mind that it's not something that's
chiseled in stone. No matter though, I'm done thinking about it...

Huh, this was the first time Rob's resorted to using his 'final word'
prerogative and we both knew, and I mean knew without a doubt that he was
dead serious. It's unclear what would be the consequences for me if I
disobey him. What's he gonna do about it? It feels so weird to put the
words 'disobey him' in a sentence about Robby. Well, my musings about this
situation aren't helping, so I'm done thinking about it.

And, Christ, I guess there's ultimate irony that it was me who had to talk
Robby into even pretending to be in-charge... that Robby to be the
'man'. He's never been comfortable or successful in that role. Not the few
times he tried it on, so to speak. I knew he had it in him so I continued
encouraging him.

Robby came right out and almost said he didn't mind if Dodger and I had
some buddy sex. Yeah, he absolutely, um, sort of told me that in so many
words. Sure, it was over two years ago, just before Dodger was going away
for basic training in the Army, but Rob's never said anything different
since then. What, am I supposed to read his mind now? Is that it?

And then there's our solid 'arrangement' too. I mean, what about that? I
basically have a right to be pissed off because he's never changed anything
about me screwing around with Dodger, not until fifteen minutes ago. Even
though I have every right to be pissed off, I'm actually not because I can
see how Rob might have thought it was okay for him to just change our
arrangement unilaterally even though that was never part of our original
agreement... I probably mentioned that already.

One last point and I'm dropping this from my mind forever! I could have
brought up all of these things in my defense, but I magnanimously didn't do
it. Yep, I could have mentioned some shit if I wanted to! I could have made
a damn good case about the unfairness of, ya know, without prior notice Rob
changing shit and then yelling his ass off when I didn't even know about
it. Well, okay, to be fair he didn't actually yell although it sounded like
yelling to me. I was technically innocent of any wrongdoing so I was
like... what the fuck?

The thing is, I can't get past the fact that in my heart I know there's
something morally wrong with me having sex with Rob's brother this late in
the game. He's going to be family, or I'm going to be family... we're all
going to be family. I talk about Robby beating a dead horse... but c'mon
Dylan, what the fuck have you been doing this whole drive to your family's
Thanksgiving dinner? Stop the useless rationalizing!

Looking over at Rob driving, he seems fine... he seems normal. We're both
fine. I can't blame Dodger because he asked me if I was okay with me and I
said 'yes' even though I was thinking at the time we shouldn't do it. I
definitely had reservations about us doing it and if only I followed my
brain instead of my dick! Oh man, it would have been awesome if I could
have told Robby... 'What? Fucking with your brother? NO! I didn't do
that. What kind of person do you think I am?' Yeah, that truly would have
been awesome! Right back in Robby's face. And, what would he have said
then, huh? He'd need to apologize his ass off for even thinking I'd do
that! Oh, God, how pathetic of me to go on with one of those... woulda,
shoulda, coulda horseshit routines.

Glancing over at Rob again, seeing him concentrating on his driving. He's
so conscientious about every-fucking-thing. I want to be indignant about
him scolding me like that, but I'm giving it up because I can't work up any
legitimate indignation. Not to mention there wasn't any 'scolding' per se
in the first place. And fuck, heh heh, obviously he's mostly right. Yeah,
but I'm a little bit right too by shakily falling back on our arrangement
thingie. Shaky grounds because there are common sense boundaries even with
an 'arrangement' like ours.

Robby must sense I'm staring at him because he turns his head to smile at
me and then pats my leg affectionately, saying, "I'm still feeling stuffed
from dinner, babe. How the hell are we gonna eat another dinner?"
See... he's not even thinking about the 'talk'. It's over in his mind and
he's moved on while I've been doing nothing except thinking about it. Yeah,
because I'm wrong and pathetically trying to convince myself there are
extenuating circumstances that justify what I did when in fact there are no
good ones.

I go, "Nah, we'll be hungry enough to eat by the time dinner is served. The
twins probably won't even have the meal on the table for another hour or
two. They eat late." He nods, mumbling, "You're right, yeah," and I'm like,
"Um, you wanna get drunk tonight?" He goes, "Nope. I'm wanna be sober so I
can make love to my boyfriend tonight." I go, "Oh."

Another reason I can't work up any indignation is I'm presently admiring
the shit out of Robby, and he's so sexy looking too. Also, he handled that,
um, thing about Dodger, when ya get right down to it, in a nice
manner. There was no yelling or screaming or threats. He was calm and
caring and loving, but firm too. That's the best part; the part I
admire... he was firm. It was Rob showing some kind of leadership shit, ya
know? Firm leadership and, fuck, I'm surprised I didn't get a hard-on
halfway through being told what I can't do. Jesus, that was sexy dominance
right there by my boyfriend. If I was younger, oh man, that would have
turned me on!

Maybe I should be more like I envision Josh being with Dodger. You know, be
ready to ask 'How high' whenever Robby says 'Jump!'. Nah, that would scare
Robby if I was ever like that. Fuck, here's another thought: how long
before Robby feels it's his prerogative to lay down another new 'law'? You
know what though... Rob's mind doesn't work that way. He doesn't think in
terms of prerogative, or lay down the 'law', or being the boss, or being
dominant. He doesn't think about any of the shit I've been thinking
about. My musings would be so foreign to Robby it's not even funny. He'd be
like, what the...?

And how the fuck did he even know about Dodger and me screwing? Oh Christ,
what am I saying?  Robby knows me and he knows his brother, what else need
be said? He knew we'd probably fuck when he went to our bedroom to look at
those baseball videos and was hurt. Hurt that Dodger and I did that to
him. Damn, I didn't think of that angle until now. He was hurt but he
didn't let it show during his talk.

Man, this blows... I blow! During his 'talk' there were no dramatics, no
drama about how disrespected he felt or how it broke his heart that his
brother and I do something like that to him... there was no blah, blah,
blah at all. Robby merely said what he had to say and he said it straight
out in a calm manner and then asked me 'please' to promise no mas... that's
Spanish for 'no more'. Everyone isn't bilingual.

Yeah, I'd need to be a ginormous asshole not to have said what I said,
which was basically I'm sorry and I won't do it again. And then Rob said
he'll never speak of it again. How much more reasonable could he have been
about it? And fuck our arrangement! Robby deserves better than my loose
interpretation of our arrangement. I'm happy to agree with his Dodger
ban... that's the least I can do for him. After saying all that, I'm glad
he didn't include anyone else in his proclamation! Anyway, my musings took
me full circle from Rob 'had no right' all the way around to the correct
conclusion... I suck for hurting him. My musings weren't a total waste of
time after all because they helped me see the light.

At the twins' condo complex, Robby drives the pickup into one of the
"guest' parking spots close to Tom's building, and says, "You've been
unusually quiet, Dylan. I hope you're not too upset about what we discussed
earlier." I go, "No, not at all. I haven't given it a thought. You are
right and that's that." He asks, "We're good, right?" I nod, "Yeah,
sure. It was irresponsible and stupid of me to put in jeopardy what you and
I have together." Looking at him now, I go, "I love you and I want all your
plans for us to come true." He smiles, "Ya know, Dylan, you're really the
nicest person I know." As we're getting out of the pickup, I mumble, "No,
I'm not. I'm not as nice as you think I am, Robby, but I wish I was."

As we walk toward Tom's condo Robby puts his arm across my shoulders and I
lean against him and put my arm around the back of his waist feeling my
eyes get wet. Goddammit, not again. I'm too fucking emotional. He stops and
asks, "Which entrance do we go in, babe? I forget. There are four doors..."

I'm choking up a little because something important happened back home in
our bedroom; something that needed to happen and I know there's more to
come... and I'm happy there is too. I only hope it doesn't come too
quickly. I'm getting ready to be exclusively 'us two', but I'm not ready
yet. Robby will know that because he knows me better than anybody.

I haven't answered him about what door we go in so Rob moves his head over
to look at me and sees a tear that I'm trying to wipe off my cheek with the
palm of my hand. He pulls me into a full frontal hug and we hug
tightly. Rob doesn't say anything and, fuck, I feel so stupid him showing
me love is making more tears to run out of my eyes. Why does everything
have to happen to me? I wipe my tears on the shoulder of Rob's jacket as he
rubs my back and we stand here for a minute like this without saying
anything. When I'm composed, I say, "Every condo has a private
entrance. Tom's is the door on the end. He has an end condo." Robby says,
"Oh, okay. Let's go," and, with his arm across my shoulders again, and my
arm around the back of his waist, we start walking toward the door on the
end.

Chubby answers the door. CHUBBY answers the door? Omigod, if Chubby's here,
how late are we? Well, forget that. After being down on myself the last
twenty minutes and now seeing that smile of Chubby's, the one he always has
for me, plus his enthusiastic hug that lifts me off my feet for a second
and then his brotherly kiss... well, I feel better already. I couldn't be
such a horrid person if I'm getting a reception like this from my brother,
someone who has known me longer and better than anyone else on earth. I'm
fighting back more tears as Chubby's saying 'hi' to Rob and now the moms
are here treating me like a celebrity of sorts. They're so glad to see me,
both moms! We've always referred to them as, 'the' moms, Chubby and I
have. That's because it's as if we've always had two and, yeah, one is a
little more special although the other one is pretty special too.

Timmy and Tom give me big bro-hugs and then Tom takes my jacket while I
watch Rob getting the hugging and kissing treatment from the moms. He's
smiling while standing there accepting 'it' like a good soldier... he's
such a good guy! Then Tom's taking Robby's jacket, and yeah, Robby and I
have the exact same jackets. I know, aww... that too cute for words. Rob
brought both of us beautiful soft leather jackets as Christmas gifts even
though we agreed not to spend much money on gifts. The jackets have a
zip-in lining that makes them very warm even though they're
lightweight... jackets that reach only to our waists. Last winter Rob
wrapped a long scarf around his neck that hung down below the jacket. Oh,
fuck, did he ever look like a cool hot-shit with that scarf!

There's been a lot of chatter during our greeting with all of us standing
around the front door. The spoken words all blend together as I'm kinda
forgiving myself for some of my recent thoughts and deeds, giving myself a
break. Tim and Tom's parents are here, both holding dark-colored cocktails
and standing at the edge of the commotion, clearly not as invested in
greeting Rob and me as the others. Haha, why would they be? I reach my hand
over to shake hands with them... they both sort of touch my hand at the
same time, as the mother says, "You're late. What does your generation call
it... being fashionably late, is that it?" She said that with a nice smile
though, trying to relate I suppose. I say, "It nice to see you both but I
don't think my generation can take credit for the 'fashionably late'
excuse. You both look great by the way." The fictional brown-nosing class
Rob tells people I'm taking as an elective comes in handy at times like
this.

The twins' parents are ten or twelve years older than Robby's parents,
chronologically, but if I recall from the Fourth of July party they're much
older than that many other ways besides chronological. Plus, they're from
the Midwest and I don't think they're especially thrilled with us east
coast people. I'm not thrilled with all of us either. The father takes a
gulp of his cocktail and says, "We do not look great, young man, but you
certainly do." Tim comes over, saying, "Dylan, I meant to tell you, dude, I
like your latest haircut," and then to his parents, "Mom and Dad, we're all
going back to the family room and enjoy the fire Tom's started in the
fireplace. Can I refresh your drinks?" He pats my shoulder sort of giving
me the okay to slip away, which I do.

As everyone heads back to the family room, Chubby grabs my arm, saying,
"C'mere, bro, I want you to taste something I'm working on in the kitchen."
I go with him as I motion to Robby. He says something to Chubby's mom,
Tris, and nods at me acknowledging he sees where Chub and I are going

In the kitchen, Chubby tells me, "I've been fucking around trying to
duplicate our favorite cocktail from Wildwood. You be the judge." I'm like,
"You mean the whiskey sours at Brush's restaurant?" He goes, "Yeah, that's
the one I always think about whenever I think about drinking booze at the
shore." I go, "Do you think about that a lot?" He laughs, "No! haha, when I
do though, ya know, it's Bush's whiskey sours." I go, "You won't effin'
believe me, but I swear to God I was thinking about the whiskey sours at
Bush's earlier today." He goes, "Christ, you're a cute motherfucker when
you lie!" I go, "No, seriously, I was thinking about them!"

The kitchen smells awesome of roasting turkey, and something else. I go,
"It smells good in here," and Chubby says, "The twins are having turkey and
a big-ass roast goose. It helps to have two ovens, huh?" Yeah, both twins
have gourmet kitchens in their condos. Being rich is nice. I mean, I'm
assuming it is since I myself have never tried being rich... yet.

Robby comes in smiling and asking, "What are you guys up to?" Chubby goes,
"You gotta try this, Rob," and he turns on a blender filled with a pale
orange liquid... whiskey sours obviously. Rob stands next to me with his
hand lightly squeezing the back of my neck. I'm not sure he knows he's even
doing it. The last couple of months Robby's developed a habit of touching
some part of me all the time, connecting us together I guess. Maybe he
subconsciously picked up the habit from Danny, who does the same
thing... not only to me, to everybody. I like it myself 'cause I like being
touched by certain select individuals. Turning my head I grin at Robby and
he squeezes my neck again and rubs the back of my head as Chubby's telling
us, "I've tried two earlier versions, but I'm thinking this one should be
sick!"

All over the granite countertop are half rinds of lemons and oranges
leftover after the juice has been extracted. Also, a lot of whole oranges
and lemons have rolled haphazardly here and there. Ones that Chubby hasn't
tackled yet. I say they're all over but there's a lot of granite
countertops in here and I'm guessing Tom set Chubby up at this smaller
counter because it's close to the sink and the garbage disposal. It's also
separated from the main countertops where the prep work for dinner items
has obviously been done. Tom's probably hoping it'll keep the disaster area
he expects Chub will make confined to this one counter. From the looks of
things, he was smart to think of that.

Chubby's his usual excited self, saying, "I was waiting for you guys to get
here before trying this third batch." Turning on the blender he loudly
says, "I'm getting hammered testing all these different attempts to match
Bush's cocktail." Shouting over the blender noise, I ask, "What's in that
pitcher there next to the blender? The clear liquid." Chubby nods, "Oh
yeah, Tom showed me how to make a simple syrup and that's what's in the
pitcher. Simple syrup is kind of an important component in the perfect
whiskey sour." I go, "Oh," and he says, "I didn't know that, did you, bro?"
I shake my head and Rob asks, "What's simple syrup?" Good question!

Chubby turns off the blender, and says, "Simple syrup is simple to
make. Equal parts sugar and water dissolved over heat and then cooled
down. After Tom told me how to do it, I made a batch and put it in the
freezer for a while to cool it down." I go, "What the hell time did you get
here?" He looks at me like I just asked an insane question, and then says,
"Seven o'clock, like you told me." As if he's ever been anywhere on-time
before in his life! I go, "Oh, uh huh, of course."

There's a lot of ice in the blender along with, I guess, fresh orange and
lemon juice plus simple syrup and whiskey. Chub turns the blender on again
and I shouting over the racket, "Um, how much whiskey did you use Chub?"
The blender is blending stuff that's foaming up now and almost overflowing
the top. Chubby's holding the top on with a dishrag under his hand. He
yells, "The perfect amount, Dylan. A shot and a half for each cocktail. You
won't even taste it. Tom gave me a bottle of Crown Royal to use, and that
shit is a step up the quality ladder from VO."

He turns off the blender and pours the very cold frothy pale-orange mixture
into three low cocktail glasses. The glasses are heavy and have like one
inch of glass at the bottom. Chub goes, "Let's give 'em a try boys," and
the three of us pick up our glass and take a swig. I go, "Holy shit! You
did it, Chub! This is Bush's whiskey sour to a tee."

All three of us have pale foamy mustaches as Chubby makes a face, saying,
"It's a little too tart. More simple syrup for the next batch, but it's
fucking good as it is too!" Robby says, "It's delicious, Jeff," then to me,
he asks, "Do you remember if last summer I had one of Bush's whiskey
sours?" Shaking my head, I go, "I don't think we ever got over to Sea Isle
last summer, but this is it right here. You're having one now," and to
Chubby I say, "It's not too tart bro. It's supposed to be a bit, um, sour."
Chub goes, "Yeah, but I'll try a little more simple syrup in the next batch
just to try it."

We all basically chugged that first round and then Chubby mutters, "Right,
we need another," and he adds more simple syrup sweetener and more ice
before turning on the blender for the second half of Chub's third try at
making the perfect whiskey sour. The glasses are fat and heavy so they only
hold about six ounces. That'd be my guess. I tasted the whiskey even less
in Chubby's whiskey sours than I did in the ones I had in Wildwood. And
that's a good thing! I said to Rob when we got up I wasn't gonna have any
hard liquor drinks today or tonight, but 'c'mon, that then and this is
now. Oh, plus after our 'talk' I said I was gonna have a lot of whiskey in
my drink tonight so I'm covered, prediction-wise. Things change and,
anyway, as I said, ya can't even taste the liquor in these drinks. Of
course, that could be a bad thing. Ya know, ya can't taste the booze so we
drink them like sodas with a false sense of security thinking we're sober
and then, bam, ya trip over your own feet.

Chubby says to Robby and me, "See that juice squeezer, guys." Robby and I
look over at a smallish machine dripping with orange and lemon juice. I go,
"Uh huh," and Chubby goes, "That's a bitch right there, that machine. It
gets the juice out really good but it's a real bad-ass at doing its
job. The problem is, ya gotta show it's who's boss. It likes to move on the
countertop and the halves of lemon tend to slide off and that thing on top
turns like a motherfucker grinding into the palm of your hand." I go, "Uh
huh, and why are you telling us that, Mister Bartender? You're not thinking
we'll try using your juicing machine ourselves, are you?" He grins,
muttering, "I was hoping, yeah," and he turns the blender on again. Wow,
what a racket!

Tim comes in the kitchen carrying two empty highball glasses, saying loudly
over the blender noise, "If they keep up the pace they've been tossing down
Old Fashions my folks are gonna need someone to carry them to the dinner
table. You boys need to stay strong 'cause Tom and are getting hammered on
wine and you'll need to do the heavy lifting if it comes to that." Ignoring
that, Chubby says, "Taste this drink, Timmy," and he flicks off the
blender. Pouring a few ounces for Tim in a juice glass, Tim drinks it down
and says, "Awesome drink for pussies," and Chubby laughs out loud, then
mutters, "Yes, Daddy, we'll switch to shots and beers now 'cause we ain't
no pussies! And who's calling who a pussy when you're drinking wine?" Tim
goes, "Okay, after that smart remark you can't use the car for a week. Chub
says to me, "He's practicing being a stepdad." Tim chuckles as he finishes
making his parents Old Fashions. Carrying the drinks with him, he goes,
"You're more than welcome to join us in the family room guys, whenever you
feel like it."

We screw around in the kitchen laughing for a while with Rob and I trying
out the juicer machine. Then with fresh whiskey sours, our third, we go
into the family room to be sociable with the true adults. Maybe we can pick
up some pointers on how to 'do' proper 'adult' behavior. The moms are
drinking white wine and the guys are drinking red wine. Tim and Tom would
normally be drinking hard liquor cocktails but I'm guessing since they're
the chefs they're sticking with wine until they finish cooking. Okay,
that's adult pointer number-one right there.

We join the conversation which means... well, what do parents and adults
think is a conversation when talking to college students, or any students?
It makes no difference if the students are their children or their
children's friends, the answer is the same: they ask questions, that's what
they think is a conversation with anyone going to school at any level. 'How
ya doing at college? meaning what are your grades? and 'What's are you
doing for fun?' meaning how much are you drinking and partying?... and
related questions of that nature. When we were much younger the so-called
adult conversation from family, friends, or relatives always started with
the question... 'How old are you now, big guy?' Ya know, us little fellows
hold up two or three fingers and say. 'I'm three and a half.' Shit like
that. What I'm saying is, it's not conversations, per se. Asking questions
substitutes for conversation.

Robby and I give generic responses but Chubby always includes an outlandish
story with his responses. He's especially verbose when asked what course is
his favorite this year, and the question, what's the social scene like at
college nowadays? None of his answers are true but only I know that. Chub
gets us all laughing our balls off, so what does it matter if what he says
is true or not? After a while, the twins tell stories of their exploits
during their college days. They've only been out of college seven years so
their experiences are eerily similar to ours.

All this college talk is making me feel bad for my mom and Tris because
they never even finished high school. They laugh along with everyone
though. The twins' parents occasionally smile as they gulp down their
drinks and eat the cold shrimp cocktail their son put out for a snack. Some
snack! Someone once told me those earlier generations, generally speaking,
drank much more hard liquor than our generation. That's scary to think
about. Watching the twin's parents eating the cold shrimp reminds me that
I'm getting hungry again so I have a cold shrimp and there's a snap when I
bite into it. Nice! And the cocktail sauce is spicy and lemony, so that
nice too. Man, there is a difference when food preparers know what they're
doing, and the moms' boyfriends know what they're doing in the kitchen!

After one of Tom's college drinking stories, his father goes, "Oh, so
that's what we spent two hundred thousand dollars for; so you two nitwits
could learn how to drink." Tom and Tim exchange glances and grins as though
this isn't the first time they've heard that from their father, who adds,
"I could have taught you that for free." The twins laugh it off, and again
the moms laugh too.

In an attempt to steer the conversation the moms' way I mention something
that happened at Wildwood about eight years ago. A story about how the moms
were but that backfires on me because then the moms take turns telling
stories about Chubby and me when we were kids. And, holy shit, do they have
distorted memories! No good turn goes unpunished apparently... good
intentions on my part though.

Chubby and I go along with the distorted tales of us that the moms take
turn telling. The twins laugh their asses off because I think they can
relate to our situation. And the twins' parents seem to enjoy the stories
too, so I feel good for my mom, and Tris too. Chub and I almost get
headaches though from rolling our eyes at one another as each story gets
more preposterously distorted than the previous one.

Eventually, the twins excuse themselves to finish the dinner and it gets a
little awkward with the twins' parents sitting there like statues, maybe
not feeling totally comfortable considering the five of us are still
basically strangers to them. Ah, but this is where the moms come
in. Omigod, they can do small talk to beat the band. They get the twins'
parents involved in a discussion about the confusing acceleration of
electronics over the last fifteen years. Boring? Of course, but it gets the
conversation moving along with Chubby saying things under his breath that
only Rob and I can hear so we're busting a gut trying not to laugh out loud
while Chubby maintains a straight face. The moms pretty much know what's
going on but the twins' parents don't. Chubby is so fucking entertaining
it's sick!

Dinner is served and all nine of us sit at a very long table. It's not set
up nearly as fancy as Mrs. Dickers' tables, but the food is fancier. There
is, of course, a beautiful looking turkey but an even more impressive
looking goose. It's a big fucker making me wonder how it could get its tail
feathers off the ground and fly with all its weight. Both birds are roasted
to perfection and the guys carve both on a buffet table in the dining room
while the moms bring in the side dishes. There are the normal Thanksgiving
dishes: mashed potatoes and gravy and candied sweet potatoes and sweet baby
peas with pearl onions, and stuffing, plus other dishes I don't recognize.

The ones I don't recognize are the gourmet side dishes. One is a pretty
bowl of delicate vegetable lasagna that my mom says are filled with small
diced eggplant, small diced mushrooms, and small diced yellow squash with
grated sweet onion and some spices. Needless to say, as impressive as it
looks, I'm not having any of that. There are small butternut squashes
drizzled with maple syrup and stuffed with sautéed leeks, browned
ground Italian sausage, and wild rice. The sweet butternut squash I might
have tried by itself, but not with all that other shit in it. And then the
turkey stuffing has small oysters in it that I eat around because other
than the gross looking oysters, the stuffing is delicious. The twins carry
the platters of turkey and goose around to each of us and we serve
ourselves. The rest of the side dishes, whether we want what's in them or
not, get passed from one person to the next.

Of course, since it's the polite thing to do and because it's deserved as
well, there lots of compliments, especially from the moms, like, "Oh, that
looks wonderful, Tom," and "You're both such talented cooks," and so
forth. >From the twins' parents, we get "What's that, Timmy?" said in a way
as though someone put a cow pie in front of her, and the father's, "Oh, for
God sakes, son, I don't want any of whatever that is," and the like. In
other words, the twins' parents say what us guys are thinking. Yeah, the
very old and the very young are rude... but they can get away with
it. Maybe someday the young will acquire a taste for gourmet dishes,
there's still a chance they will, like developing a taste for wine. Any
chance in that regard past by the older folks some years ago. And I'm
pretty sure they couldn't care less. The twins are used to their parents
though and they seem to get a kick out of it and seem to enjoy laughing it
off.

I stick pretty much with the traditional dishes and they're delicious, but
not more so than Mrs. Dickers' conventional side dishes. Both turkeys were
moist and tender and the sides I tried were done equally well, which is to
say, they're excellent. The twins and moms go in for the more exotic side
dishes and everyone except Chubby, Rob, and I drink plenty of wine with
dinner. We stick with water. There's an easy conversation with some good
laughs all through dinner, but then I expect that because whenever the
twins are present thing proceed very comfortably. They're super smooth and
cool guys. Funny too, but always nice. They don't go in for sarcasm nearly
as much as I'm used to hearing from my peers, and from myself.

It's pumpkin and mincemeat pies from a gourmet bakery for dessert. The
twins do not bake... it's good to know one's limitations, ya know? There's
espresso as well as regular coffee with the moms and twins drinking the
espresso and the regular coffee for the rest of us.

Not knowing what a 'mince' is, I'm not gonna have a piece of that pie. It
surprises me I'm having any dessert after the amount of food I've already
consumed. The dinner was a deliciously huge success and the guys didn't
even break a sweat cooking it. Very impressive! Chubby joins the adults for
brandy as an after dinner drink with dessert and coffee. Robby and I
decline the brandy politely but get tempted when Tim describes a
mixed-brandy drink called a stinger. Omigod, it's brandy and white cream de
menthe and I liked the first one Tom made for me so much I had a second
one... no, it's not delicious, but very minty. Heh heh, my prediction that
we wouldn't have a hard liquor drink tonight was way the fuck off.

After dinner, everyone offers to help clear the table or clean up, or
whatever we could do. The twins make a 'face' and laugh, saying, "Nah,
we'll stack everything in the kitchen. We've got some help coming in
tomorrow morning who will straighten everything out. Don't give it a
thought." Tim says, "Let's have another drink around the fire and maybe Tom
will put some tunes on his awesome sound system." Tom goes, "It's hardly an
awesome system, but I'll get some music playing."

We all go to the family room where Tom not only puts some tunes on but he
gets another fire going in the fireplace. Tim, meanwhile, gets everyone
another drink and I'm like, "Ya know what, Timmy, I'll have another one of
those stingers." He laughs but then says, "From unfortunate and painful
personal experiences, Dylan, I've come to the conclusion that two stingers
are all any civilized person should have at one sitting. How about a beer
instead?" Hard to argue with personal experience so I agree to a Miller
Lite.

Chubby, Rob, and I drink beers sitting on the floor watching the fire and
listening to what the adults have to say. Those guys, the twins, always
have interesting and funny stories to tell. But after a while us three guys
want an after dinner cigarette so we get fresh beers, put our coats on and
sit outside on the patio.

Tom's high-end patio furniture is super comfortable and if it weren't so
cold I could easily fall asleep in the chair I'm sitting on. The
conversation is about college life at first. We stick with the funnier side
of it with each of us telling stories making ourselves the brunt of the
humor. Stories about all kinds of different ways we bungled something
during our three-plus years at Merrimack. Things we can all relate
to. Weird situations we found ourselves in that make you feel so stupid it
makes you wonder, 'why'd I do that?'.

Yeah, some really good laughs for a half hour or so and then we flip coins
to see who will go inside to get us three fresh beers. When I'm back with
the fresh beers I find Rob's switched into serious mode. He's basically
bragging about me to my brother relating highlights of my summer job at
Dickers & Son introducing the company's new benefits package to every
employee individually. He tells Chub the management group had serious
concerns that the new benefits package could blow-up in their face if it
wasn't presented in the right way and were therefore astonished Mr. Dickers
was allowing a part-time summer college kid to make the
presentations. Listening to Rob I discover the package contained a small
but significant adjustment in the way employee's pay was computed for
purposes of the company's contribution to the retirement plan. The small
computing adjustment will save the company millions of dollars over the
next twenty years. I didn't know anything about that which, I suppose, was
the whole idea of me making the presentations. I'm not sure how I feel
about that but Robby's jumping through hoops emphasizing that, overall it's
a generous benefits package that compares favorably with any of the
top-ranked companies according to Glassdoor's ranking system, and better
than the employees' previous benefit package. Whatever 'Glassdoor' is, I
couldn't tell you.

Yeah, it pissed me off that I wasn't privy to the retirement plan's minor
detail adjustment. Whether it was a brilliant decision by Mr. Dickers to
have me make the presentations or a devious one that took advantage of the
employees AND my naive understanding of such things I don't know. And, did
Robby know about the change that benefited the company and purposely didn't
tell me about it? I don't know that either.

Mostly though, it's hard for me not to be flattered hearing Rob relating
complimentary comments about how well I did my job. Robby is looking mostly
at me when he tells Chub and me, "Dad only told me about most of this the
other night. He asked me to keep it to myself," and he turns his head to
look at Chubby, adding, "I don't keep secrets from Dylan though," and
looking back to me he goes, "This is the first real chance I've had to tell
you, babe." I don't know how to respond but my first thought is about how
the real nuts and bolts of the business world isn't Disney World and I need
to keep that in mind.

Then it's mostly all flattery as Rob's dad told him the management group
was ecstatic at the results of the opinion survey that came out after my
presentations were completed. I was starting my senior year by
then. Mr. Dickers told Rob everyone in the company, and I assume he meant
every manager, felt the new benefit program couldn't have been presented
any better than I innocently performed that function. I added the
'innocently performed' part. Everyone was congratulating Mr. Dickers'
choice of... well, me! I have mixed feelings about all this except I'm glad
Chubby's hearing the good parts. He ignores the part about me being duped
into thinking I was being honest when telling employees everything about
the new program is an upgrade across the board. I related the information I
was told to relate, which is the company had merely switched the vendors
who are underwriting the benefits package. Chubby's grinning and bumping
fists with me, saying, "That's my brother!' as I'm going, 'Stop, Robby,
you're embarrassing me."

Then, continuing the serious tone, Chubby tells Rob and me a lot of details
about his plans for next year. Wow, I don't believe I've ever heard Chubby
speak so seriously about himself before tonight. Usually, he just jokes
around claiming anything he excels at is due to a fortuitous set of
unlikely circumstances that he had nothing to do with. Sort of like me
going on about the genes we have nothing to do with. He may have stolen
that from me, now that I think about it.

Anyway, our tongues have been loosened by the alcohol although not in a
blathering drunken manner. It's more like when a bunch of college guys,
after having had sufficient numbers of beers, talk as if they know about
topics like destiny, or the stars, or the likelihood of parallel universe
and other subjects that we basically have no business, acumen-wise,
discussing although at the time we're wicked serious about it. That's sort
of the frame of mind Chubby and Rob are in tonight. After drunken college
nights the next morning we're all like... what the fuck...?  Haha. But
alcohol definitely is a factor tonight.

Anyway, in that general frame of mind, Chubby tells us about long talks
he's had with Tim and Tom, who are paying for his Master's Degree so who
better to have long talks about it with. He says, "The twins and I looked
at a lot of possible universities and the guys, well ya know they don't
give a shit which university cost more or less, they mostly wanted me to be
comfortable and, heh heh, so did I. They did insist the university have a
solid management program and in the end, I simply couldn't commit to an out
of state university," and blah, blah, blah... He went on to describe what
he felt were good points and bad points about this or that university until
Chub's like..."So, finally, the three of us settled on UMass Amherst." The
significant part of that decision being... he's staying in Massachusetts
for his Master's Degree.

Another ten-minute description by Chubby about the process of applying and
so forth while somewhere during his explanation, I slipped into one of my
trances listening to Chubby' voice and the serious tone of it. He's saying,
"It's in Amherst, Massachusetts in case you didn't know... haha, no shit,
huh? No, seriously, Amherst is only about ninety miles from here, give or
take a few miles. And that's not so far that I can't get back pretty quick
if you need me, Dylan, haha, or more likely I need you!" With Chub speaking
to me directly just then broke my pleasant trance and I go, "Good to know
Chub. Seriously though, I'm wicked happy for you." Chubby wouldn't go out
of state because he didn't want to leave me... that's what I chose to
think, but then the things booze can make you believe, ya know?

Chubby's truly excited though and I guess he is going to work for the
twin's company. I wasn't sure if Chubby was just going along with them to
be polite or if he was actually serious about it. Now I know.

There's a new position in the company Tim and Tom formed six years ago
that's projected to be necessary by the expansion model they paid a
business consulting company to put together. The business model projected
the need to eventually expand their business overseas and they want Chubby
to fill the open spot. If compensation was discussed, Chubby doesn't say,
so I don't ask. I am wicked curious about that though. I mean, Robby told
me how much he expects to start out at... $60,000 plus a bonus the first
year, and I wonder if Chubby will make more. It sounds like he will, but
then so will Robby two years from now.

People consider money matters kinda personal though, ya know... duh! It's
very unlike Chubby to provide too much information about anything but he's
legitimately excited about his future telling Rob and me UMass University
has 26,000 undergraduates and 6,500 graduate students... the student body
is more than six times Merrimack's in other words. He'll be studying for a
Master's Degree in management. Well, Business analytics specifically with a
minor in marketing. I'm like, "Wow, Chubby, it sounds like some for-real
studying is gonna be required. Your playtime here at Merrimack is coming to
an end." He nods, "Yes, but it's time I get serious about the rest of my
life. I know that doesn't sound like me and is actually
pretentious-sounding, but it's also a fact." I go, "Um, uh huh... how many
old fashions did you say you had before Rob and I got here?" He chuckles,
and says, "You'll see, big brother, I'm smarter than I look." Well, nobody
ever said he wasn't smart.

It's all very interesting but when I glance at my boyfriend, who just
smiles back at me, I'm so proud that Robby's been planning for our future
two years now. Chubby's only recently thought about what he'll do after
graduating Merrimack recently with the urging of Timmy and Tom. I know
Rob's too modest to say anything to Chubby about how he starting planning a
long time ago... he wouldn't want to detract from Chubby's news. Rob's like
that.

Jeez, they're both so serious though... maybe I need to get more serious
too. Anyway, I'm so proud of Chubby too, not just Rob. It's like Chubby is
enthusiastically taking something on that sounds wicked difficult. Master's
degrees seem intimidating to me and then to feel the responsibility of
filling the job the twins are depending on him to fill... Jesus, the
pressure!

And then somehow the serious spell gets broken. I don't know how or why,
but it's like the three of us realized at the same time we've slipped into
the twilight zone and we quickly begin to break each other's balls about
how serious we all were and then a few minutes later we're trying to decide
whether to call it a night or get another beer.

In either case, we want to see what the adults are up to. When I get up my
foot gets caught and I stumble. Rob's quick as a cat somehow grabbing me
around the waist before I trip over a fucking planter. I almost went into a
heavy stone planter with a small evergreen tree in it. Yeah, it somehow
moved in between me and the sliding glass doors. Robby squeezes around my
stomach pulling me back against him, saying, "Whoa, babe! What a dumb-ass
spot for a shrub in a tub, huh?" I mutter a curse under my breath but I
love how Rob jumped to my aid like that. Very protective of me. Out of the
corner of my eye, I see Chubby exchange the slightest head nod with
Robby. Huh, in my booze-addled mind, I think... is Chubby officially
turning over the responsibility of looking out for me to Robby? Not that I
need looking out for, but it's sweet they want to.

Normally though, I'd be shrugging away from Robby as he tries guiding me
inside with his arm around the back of my waist, you know, embarrassed I
almost fell. Not tonight though because I've been in this silly Rob's my
man mindset ever since he basically laid down the law about who I cannot
have buddy sex with.

Not just because I almost fell on my ass is it a fifty-fifty proposition
whether we call it a night or get another beer before I even got up. When
we go inside though we see that the twins' parents have already retired for
the night. It's a nice picture with the fires glowing nicely and there's
soft music playing, Tom and mom on one love seat, Timmy and Tris on the
matching one. The three of us stand here looking at the situation as the
four adults look back at us. Chubby goes, "Oh!" as though he's shocked
seeing the moms coupled-up with the guys. I glance at a big Grandfather
clock and see it's ten-after-eleven. After saying 'oh' Chubby goes, "You
think we can't take a hint from this contrived set-up you've got going for
you here?" The four grown-ups on the love seats are grinning at us but none
of them even pretend to talk us into staying longer... haha! Tim says, "We
were hoping by now you children would be tired..." and Tom laughs before,
saying, "Ya know, guys, Thanksgiving is officially over... in case ya
didn't know." I go, "We can take a hint, even one as subtle as
that... right guys?"

After a laugh and some bantering back and forth, we do our due diligence
thanking the guys for a truly excellent Thanksgiving feast and then they
all get up for hugs and kisses as we all are saying goodnight. Outside
walking to our cars Robby saying, "So, Jeff, can you play touch football
tomorrow?" Chub nods and says, 'Yeah, I'd love to. Is it okay if I bring my
buddy John Beverly?" I make a 'face' as Rob's like, "Of course!" Chubby
didn't see me making the 'face' and we do some hugging and then we kiss a
brotherly kiss. Chubby pats my shoulder, mumbling, "Text me tomorrow, bro,
whether we have the game or not." A minute later Robby's behind the wheel
of the pickup and I'm in the passenger seat. He starts the engine saying,
"Great day, huh, Dylan." Taking a deep breath, I'm like, "Yes, it was, but
I need a vacation to recover from this never ending holiday."

On the way to Mom's Condo, Rob and I talk about the fancy gourmet foods the
twins prepared for dinner and then about Chubby's plans for UMass and
beyond. We agree we couldn't do what Chubby plans to do. No more schooling
for us. Chubby seems sincerely psyched about it though and I've no doubt
he'll kick ass too. He's smart and if he applies himself... oh boy! That's
the potential the twins see in Chubby. They offered to pay for my Master's
Degree too, and they were sincere but not as enthusiastic as they were when
offering the same deal to my brother. I don't need or want any more
education. I know the twins like me a lot but they see that Chubby as the
brother who can get things done. It remains to be seen what 'things', but I
assume the twins' business model knows.

At almost eleven-thirty, Rob and I are going in through the garage entrance
to the condo. I've got the satchel with our toilet stuff and a change of
clothes under my arm as I fumble for the light switch and when the lights
come on in the finished basement, Rob says, "Wow, lots of memories in here,
huh? Sort of like the pool house, babe?" I go, "Sort of, but the pool house
has many more memories for you and me," and we go upstairs, I'm asking,
"Are you as tired as I am? It's been a good day, but socializing for like
twelve hours is hard work." In the kitchen, Rob pats my shoulder and goes,
"Well, we had a nap and I'm actually feeling pretty good," and he pulls me
to him for a ten-second sweet kiss after which he murmurs, "I'm proud of
you, Dylan... and I love you more every day."

I know his 'proud' reference is because of me acquiescing to his wishes
regarding Dodger. Yeah, I could have bitched and so forth but I've gone
over that in my mind already and decided I don't have anything to bitch
about... not really. And, while I did act like a baby at first, I got over
it pretty fast. Rob won't hold any of it against me anyway. I say, "Thanks,
although I'm not sure I deserve you being proud of me," and then as I turn
on the kitchen lights, Robby asks, "How about if we jump in the shower to
revive ourselves." Shrugging, I mutter, "I don't think I'm up for that,
Rob." Coming over to me again he takes the satchel I'm still holding,
tosses it onto the sofa and then gives me a hug, saying seriously, "Okay,
no shower but you and I need to cement our revised, um, arrangement by
making love tonight." Yeah, see, I knew he meant 'that' when he said he was
proud of me.

Rob won't say 'it' specifically because he told me he'd never mention it
again, but I never said I wouldn't mention it. I mumble, "I know you trust
me, Rob, I gave my word and..." He murmurs, "And that's good enough for me
so I shouldn't have alluded to it. I was trying to be clever and I need to
leave being 'clever' to my boyfriend. You're a lot better at that than me."
I mutter, "Not really," and he goes, "I love you and I still want to make
love to you." I hug him back and grin, mumbling, 'Well, if you put it that
way... sure."

Robby hugs me against his chest and sways us side to side to the music
Rob's hearing in his head. He's so loving and, Omigod, that 'talk' he gave
me comes back to me whether I want it to or not. I'm already embellishing
Rob's dominant in-charge 'talk' until it's oozing over my mind with all
kinds of sub/dom implications. Well, how else to interpret it other than
Robby being dominant when telling me how it's going to be from now on,
telling me what I'm not going to be doing. I know... I'm half in the bag so
everything seems more meaningful. Still, the 'talk' was like my fantasy
dreams from my youth and the sub/dom dynamic was at its soaring heights in
my mind and now I can pretend it's here... Robby being gentle but very firm
about being in charge.

He goes, "C'mon, let's get ready for bed, babe," and I let him sort of
guide me down the hall as he's asking, "How drunk are you anyway? I mean,
all those stingers you drank." I go, "I had two stingers so I'm no drunker
than you, Robert." He goes, "Oh, good," and we turn into my old bedroom. I
glance at my twin bed and see it's exactly as I left it, and why wouldn't
it be? The same fresh linens on my intimately small bed. Robby notices me
looking at the bed and says, "We had some nice times in that little bed of
yours, and I can't wait to make love to you in there tonight, Dylan," and
he squeezes me around the waist. I go, "You are a very good boyfriend,
Robert." He snickers and mutters, "Oh fuck, you are drunk!" I go, "No, I'm
NOT!"

Robby goes, Oops, wait a second," and I watch him go back to get the
satchel off the sofa. As he comes back saying to me, "You, get in the
bathroom now!" Chuckling, I scamper in the bathroom, and then say, "Hey,
you better not be thinking of spanking me because of... you know." Heh heh,
actually I'm reminding him he should do that.

Rob doesn't pay any attention though. He follows me into the bathroom and
takes our toothbrushes and other toiletry articles from the satchel and
then sets them up neatly on the shelf under the mirror over the sink. I'm
talking myself into the right frame of mind for some fabulous sub/dom sex
tonight. Then, taking my clothes off, I toss them in the corner and stand
here naked, saying, "See, Robby, this is the way all bedrooms should
be... with a bathroom conveniently right off it."

Robby isn't paying any attention to my random comments and who does that
remind me of? Uh oh, Rob just noticed my clothes on the floor. Making a
'face' he mutters, "C'mon, Dylan. Don't leave that shit for your mom to
pick up." For a fraction of a second, I get pissed at him for saying that
but almost immediately my brain remembers my trend for this night, which
is... Robby's the dominant boss. Ooou, yeah I want to keep that theme going
tonight, so while picking everything up, I say, "Sorry." I put my clothes
in the empty hamper. Robby mumbles, "No problem, babe," and he starts
taking a piss, saying, "Freakin' beer, ya know?"

See, he just took for granted I'd pick the clothes up. I store that nugget
of him being in-charge in my memory banks to use during my submissive
routine during our sub/dom sex tonight. This is gonna be good! As Rob gets
undressed, I take my piss wondering why he left his boxer shorts on. Now I
feel funny being naked so, finished my pee, I get my jockey shorts from the
hamper and put them on before joining Rob at the sink. He didn't notice I
did that. I wash my hands and face and then we're both brushing our teeth
as I'm keeping my eyes on Rob's reflection from the mirror.

Sure, I can goof around with this sub/dom shit all I want but what I don't
need to pretend is this: Robby is a truly sexy/hot, awesome looking
guy. The short preppy haircut Danny's been giving Rob is perfect for
him. The bangs left long enough for a boyish little pompadour that Danny
combs in Rob's hair when he finishes the haircut, and then Rob faithfully
recombs it every day. Tonight though his bangs are down on his forehead and
instead of preppy he reminds me of the young Robby Dickers with his blond
hair disheveled a little bit. He sees me looking at him and his grin
completes the cute youthful look as he asks, 'What?" I shake my head and
mumble, "Oh, nothing. I'm admiring my boyfriend, that's all." His grin
makes me think of the first grin I saw him do over five years ago, back
when the world was young.

In the bedroom, I'm walking to the bed conjuring up epic sub/dom sex in my
mind when Robby hooks a finger in the back of my jockey shorts' waistband,
saying, 'You won't need these tonight. Take 'em off." Ha, I should have
left them off but then I wouldn't have heard his bossy order to `take them
off'. Oh man, Rob's playing right into my mind-game. Perfect! I go, "Oh,
okay," and step out of my underpants and then, being super conscientious, I
walk over to the hamper that's just inside the bathroom door and again drop
my underpants there. Robby says, "Put these in there too, babe," and he
tosses me his boxers. I smile to myself, thinking, 'Ha, you're falling
right into my living fantasy, Robert. Keep up the bossy shit.'

Robby gets in my bed under the covers, smiling and saying, "It's a small
bed, baby, but super comfortable. Haven't I always told you I love this bed
of yours?" I go, "Uh huh," and, oh man, my dick feels heavy as I pull back
the covers and slide in next to Rob. And, of course, in this bed, I'd
either be right next to him or on the floor.

Rob obligingly bumps against my side, murmuring, "Prepare yourself 'cause
I'm going to ravish your body, babe, and you've got no say in the matter."
Okay, that's talking the talk but is he gonna back it up? He's getting an
arm behind my neck but I'm thinking I'll get things moving a little faster
by lifting my right leg and dropping it in between his legs making sure it
presses against his cock. He snickers as I squirm in tighter against his
side and then lift up on my elbow to look down at him, my leg pressing
against his slightly firm cock a little harder, as I mutter, "Maybe we'll
ravish each other." He goes, "Oh yeah?" and his biceps flex as he pulls my
head down to squish against his face. I'm expecting a lover's kiss but
Rob's kiss isn't anything like a slow luscious kiss.

It's a hot and sexy sloppy hungry kiss with his tongue going right in my
mouth, our saliva mixing quickly and drooling down my chin as our teeth
scrape together. His hand rubs the back of my head and then he uses that
hand to hold my face pressed against his while he unexpectedly rolls up on
his side and with his weight as leverage he rolls me over onto my back
again, him now half on top of me now... he did that all in one motion. He's
done that before so it's not like I'm shocked by it. He's simply hornier
and more aroused than myself. While I was fucking around with my
make-believe sub/dom nonsense Robby's living in the real world.

Christ though, I loved that move he put on me and I'm getting super aroused
tasting the mouthwash from Rob's mouth. His lips and tongue stay on mine
and then his head moves with his nose rubbing over mine and then he's
totally on top of me and I'm trying to catch my breath sucking in air
around his mouth with my nose pressed into his cheek so I can't breathe
through it. It's deliciously scary how fast everything happened.

Now that Rob's fully on top of me, weighing ten pounds more than me and I'm
having trouble inhaling oxygen I get a flash of claustrophobia and start
struggling under him. I can't move him off me as Robby puts his legs on
either side of mine, his arms holding mine stiffly at my sides all of which
is increasing my claustrophobia. There's no way I can get out from under
him, his body just stiffens more when I try and his mouth never leaves
mine. Two seconds of almost panic and then, recognizing that he's got me in
a dominated position for real, to my rescue comes that familiar drifting
sense of submissiveness. It slides over my brain and then over my body like
a tender hug and I stop struggling completely. I can pretend to myself I'm
being submissive when necessary but it's nothing like the real
thing. Nothing like what just happened and I'm limply under Robby now
feeling goofily submissive and good.

A serene, tranquilness replaces the claustrophobia and there's no need to
struggle now. Giving in to Robby and everything is fine. I stop trying to
kiss back and let Robby's mouth capture mine entirely. My body language, my
everything, tell Rob I'm compliant so he relaxes too. His hips hump against
mine a couple of times just because he can. I'm docile as I let out a
contented sigh. It's like there are no bones in my body... except that
one. I'm completely receptive to whatever he has in mind for our
lovemaking, our sex. Yeah, this is what Robby wanted us to do and why would
I assume Robby didn't have his own expectations of how we'd make love
tonight. I did, so why not him?

Robby stops sucking my mouth and lifts his head to smirk at me, murmuring,
"Your body feels even more comfortable than the awesome mattress..." and
instead of his sloppy sexy hot and arousing kissing, he does a luscious
lover's kiss. It's all happening quickly. Rob's muscles are very relaxed
now and his body seems to meld into mine as I'm just now realizing my cock
has turned to stone in between our bellies... and so has Rob's.

In a way, he's been in-charge tonight from his 'talk' onward, and it's so
much better reveling in this real thing than the made-up version I had in
my head. This is legitimately sub/dom sex. Well, no not really. It's not
totally legitimate because Rob isn't thinking of it that way. I guess a
little imagination on my part is still necessary. He lifts his head a
little, breathing right into my face with his moist minty breath making my
boner throb. He smiles, saying, "Oh, baby. I love when we work together
like this and our lovemaking reaches the stars." Hey, that's one of my
lines.

Staring up into his eyes I'm thinking again that Robby's my man. I admire
him so much! He says excitedly, "I love when you have that look of desire
in your eyes. Well, heh heh, you always have some of that look, but you're
glowing with desire tonight," and he lifts off me to sit on my stomach with
a knee on either side of me. Still smiling, he takes hold of my wrists and
spreads my arms out, adding, "As I said, I'm going to ravish your body
tonight." I gulp and try to say something but can't because he has me very
aroused and, as I said, I've slipped into one of my sexy submissive
trances. Sometimes I don't even realize I'm in one until I need to say
something, and can't.

Robby leans his head down and licks across my mouth leaving a lot of spit
behind and then he asks, "Haven't you got anything to say for yourself,
boyfriend?" I gulp again but I need to say something, so I mutter, "I think
I'm going to cum." Oh, fuck! I didn't know I was going to say that, but it
turns out it's true. With a big assistance from tonight's alcoholic
beverages and Rob's aggressiveness, as well as my mind games, I find myself
stupidly on the verge of blowing my load.

He's like, "Are you kidding me?" Shaking my head, I say, "No, give me a
second, Robby. I, um... " Holy shit, he has no idea how he, plus my
overactive imagination, has me sexually aroused to the point of
insanity. I'm turned-on and hot like a young teen getting fucked for the
first time by his secret idol who's finally coming across for him. Oh,
Christ, more of my overly active imagination right there too. I need to
calm the fuck down but I like feeling legitimately submissive to
Robby... it doesn't happen that often.

It'd be even hotter and sexier for me if I thought Rob knew I was feeling
like I am. Ryan Wilcox and even Willie always knew when I was uber
submissive to them. They'd do some harmless torture getting me even deeper
into a submissive frame of mind, of course... the pricks.

Ya know, being susceptible to this sort of thing is both a curse as well as
the sexiest thing ever to me. Robby asks, "Are you okay now?" Always the
sincere and concerned boyfriend. That's so sweet. I go, "Yeah, I think so,"
and, letting go of my wrists, he slides down to my legs, saying, "Good, I'm
glad you're okay but you're still getting no mercy from me tonight. You owe
me a fantastic fuck, buster." Buster? Haha, he grins himself at that
'buster' comment. Rob said he's never going to mention the talk ever again
but that doesn't mean he's forgotten it. I mean, c'mon, he is human.

Rob's a tad clumsy getting my legs spread but now he's on his knees between
them. He's had a lot to drink too, especially considering his low tolerance
for booze. Wow, though... it's impressive he has the Astroglide tube in his
hand! When did he get that out of the satchel?  He asks, "Would you be so
kind as to pull your legs back so I can lubricate that cute ass of yours?"
I pull my legs back and then put an arm around both legs and spreading them
enough so I can watch Robby in between them. He's sitting back on his
ankles looking so happy it makes me smile to myself. I'm so fucking lucky
he loves me... seriously!

As his finger goes inside my rectum spreading the slipperiness, I sort of
sigh luxuriating in this sense of submissiveness to him. It lingers on and
feels so good... I can't recall it ever feeling better, not with Robby
anyway. I get submissive with most 'tops' but it's strictly a sexual thing
with anyone else whereas with Robby there's always love as well. Sex with
your true love is simply the best there is, throw in a little dominance
like Rob's playfully doing tonight and it's off the charts good. I mean as
far as I'm concerned.

He's stroking lubricant on his boner now, his fingers sliding back and
forth making a wet slippery sound that's kinda sexy and also not surprising
considering the lube is kind of wet and definitely slippery. Done stroking
on the lube, Rob goes up on his knees seemingly towering over me, which
adds a little to my submissiveness. Also, I'm reminded again what a hot
sexy body my boyfriend has.

I'm preparing myself to feel my asshole getting stretched to a ridiculous
degree when using the hand with the lubricant on it Rob spanks my ass
hard. It's probably an inviting thing to do with me holding my legs back
like this. At first, I'm like... oh, another sexy move by my boyfriend and
I pull my legs back harder submissively accepting my much-deserved
spanking. Rob's hand is making loud, "SMACKSMACKSMACK," sounds colliding
with my butt cheeks. It's all I can hear in the room but soon my ass is
stinging and I let go of my right leg to cover my right butt cheek. Rob
smack my hand but then stops spanking, and says, "The spanking was for your
benefit, Dylan, um, mostly yours. I don't normally like doing it but I know
you often like a bit of a spanking.' I mutter, "For someone who doesn't go
in for this sort of thing, you seemed very invested in it tonight." He
nods, smirking and muttering, "Huh, yeah, it's funny how this time I didn't
mind doing it all that much."

I'm rubbing my ass, muttering, 'Well, ow! That stung!" He brings his arm
back and pretends he going to smack my ass again and I flinch" He
snickers. Rob won't talk about it but, as I said, obviously he hasn't
forgotten it. Taking my hand away I look at Robby and see a neutral
expression on his face now as he looks right at me and then does smacks my
ass hard three more times. I go, "Ow, Goddammit," and he says, "That'll do
for now."

Always looking for the silver lining I'm thinking my red stinging ass is
strengthening this cycle of awesome submissiveness that's tenaciously
hanging on in my mind. I couldn't be in a more submissive posture. My legs
pulled back with my feet hanging limply, almost touching my butt cheeks and
my knees spread apart more than they naturally would be. Christ, my back is
curved from the effort of pulling my legs back exposing my ass to my
dominant sex partner... and my asshole is a good three inches off the
mattress. How much more submissive could I be?

Robby appears quite pleased with my posture as he walks on his knees a
couple of inches closer to me, stopping only when the head of his boner
hits my left butt cheek. He snorts out a short laugh and then says, "Jeez,
maybe I should spank you before we have sex every time. I mean, if you're
going to be this cooperative and, oh good, you've still got that fantastic
'look' in your eyes, baby! You make me feel like the world's hottest stud
with that look of desire you have. I love that!"

Not wanting to say anything for fear some of this delicious submissive
trance will get lost, I simply continue staring into Rob's eyes as if I'm
cool, but the coolness factor gets lost when an unintentional and
embarrassing whine of arousal slips from my throat giving my arousal
away. Robby doesn't even know he's helping me work myself up into this
submissive puddle for him. Now I'm fixating on how smooth the pale skin on
his face is, especially after he's shaved his skimpy beard. I want to feel
his cheek against my face and then I do because he leans over and does a
thirty-second gentle kiss and follows that by rubbing the side of his face
against mine, murmuring, "I lied... actually, I didn't like spanking
you... I hated it! You're too special... and you don't even know it." Then,
without needing to touch it 'cause it's sticking straight out, his boner's
head hits perfectly against my asshole... bullseye!

He puts a hand on each of my shoulders as his boner's head exerts pressure
against my tight asshole. My anus reluctantly and slowly gives way to open
a little and then the opening gets a little wider and then wider still
until it begins hurting. The hurt gets more noticeable as it opens even
wider, and then impossibly wider as I suck on my bottom lip trying not to
let my distress show. Robby murmurs, "Sorry, baby, but it'll only hurt for
a minute." Easy for him to say, but truthfully it's not a major problem for
me. I can't ignore the pain, no, but I can tolerate it. One last bit of
pressure proves to be the magic amount this time and that fat hard head of
his boner breaks past my sphincter to slide tightly inside my body and I
go, "Oooh! Ooow!" while Robby's eyes close as he's making a quite pleasure
moan... "Mmmm..."

The pain rolls around my brain with me scrunching my face for a few seconds
before the worst of the hurt begins fading... my face relaxes a
little. Robby opens his eyes and, grinning at me, he asks, "Okay?" I don't
blame him for wanting me to lie to him saying 'I'm okay'. I'm really
totally okay but I nod my head a little because I don't want to hamper his
luxuriating in the pleasure soaring from the eighty thousand nerve endings
in the head of his hard fat cock, all those nerve endings dancing for joy
while providing Robby sexual pleasure of the most intense variety.

No, as a good 'bottom' I don't want to ruin that for him so, after the
little nod of my head, I go, "Uh huh, I'm okay." And I am getting more okay
by the second. Pain or not, my boner is like a six-inch long rock laying on
my belly throbbing and getting heavier. Sure, some of the throbbing come
compliments of my brain that's buying into my mostly self-inflicted
submissive frame of mind, but Robby's hard sex organ helps too.

I'm still on my back but with my spine flat against the mattress
now. Robby's leaning over holding my shoulders flat while I continue
tightly pulling my bent legs back, keeping them spread more than normal
with my feet now dangling outside my butt cheek on either side of
me. Robby's four-inches-around boner head has my normally tightly closed
anus opened beyond belief, but I'm okay and getting ready to be a lot
better than okay.

He nods and smiles, saying, "You're a helluva lot better than okay, baby."
That's not exactly what I meant but it's like Rob read my mind a
little. Unaware of that, Robby gives me a quick kiss on my lips which
inadvertently pushes his boner another two inches up my ass and now my back
arches again at the spike in pain, my spine curving as I hold my breath
with my face feeling hot and red. Rob doesn't notice that either as he's
let go of my wrists and straightening up adjusting his position by leaning
back, moaning, "Mmmm," as his hard cock pulls back an inch.

It was only momentary discomfort for me though and his rather inconsiderate
movement there actually served a good purpose in that it further heightened
my sense of being dominated... so it's cool, it's all good. Yeah, in my
slightly inebriated condition I've been talking myself into this
cooperative frame of mind that I'm now kinda stuck in... it's going round
and round in a submissive cycle that started after the 'talk' ...and
possibly could go on until sometime after eternity.

Taking my arms from holding my legs back, I stretch my legs out a little
and the sweat that formed between my arms and legs begins evaporating and
feeling refreshingly cool... nice. Rob sits up and goes, "Mmmm, ooh yeaah
this feels good!" and then he bends forward hovering over me again. He sees
my arms outstretched and interlocks his fingers with mine and then thrusts
his hips completing his boner's shortish journey up my ass. Making a 'face'
of either extreme pleasure or excruciating pain, Rob humps against my
buttocks a few times and then takes a deep breath, and murmurs, "Feels
fantastic as always, baby." I have nothing to say to that so he looks down
at me with a questioning expression on his handsome face. I suppose he's
expecting me to exclaim euphorically how wonderful of him to shove his big
cock up my ass. No, that comment was just a momentary lapse in good taste
due to a tiny irritation on my part because of the pain... totally uncalled
for.

Anyway, the pleasure wagon will be on its way any second now to quickly
convert all the nerve endings around my asshole from pain to
pleasure. Inside my rectum, the party has actually already started as that
crazy prostate gland of mine is always up for a riotous time when properly
stimulated, and believe me, Rob's cock is an awesome simulator. I'm
basically just waiting for my anus to get with the program. It's been less
than two minutes since the bullseye hit, the perfect docking of his boner
with my asshole, so I've learned patience. To Rob's comment that he 'feels
fantastic', I go, "I'm glad because, from my perspective, nothing ever
feels as good as your big fat boy inside me, Robby."

He says, "That is such as a nice thing for you to say, Dylan! As I told you
a little while ago, you're the nicest person ever. The nicest person I
know... seriously." I go, "Oh, I'm pretty sure you know some nicer people,
Rob," and before I even finish saying that the pain fades away
completely... like it always does. A miracle, that's what the pure relief
feels like... a miracle. Its so wonderful words can't describe it. Omigod,
I get excited and add, "Or perhaps I am the nicest person you know. In any
case, we can discuss that later because right now this is feeling good,
baby." He laughs out loud 'cause I called him 'baby' and then he pulls his
boner back and things get to sizzling in my rectum. I suck air in between
closed teeth, "Ssssss, oooh!"

That's the end of the bantering back and forth 'cause now we're both
occupied with making sense of how incredibly good this feels. Robby has his
usual look of concentration on his face pushing his boner back up inside me
and then another slow withdrawal and thrust back and then twice more. He
stops to exhale and shakes a little before starting in on a steady rhythm
of thrusting, his hips aren't moving fast or hard enough to smack against
my buttocks so there are no sounds of males fucking, but the steady
thrusting has sensations soaring in my rectum making my shoulder shudder
against the mattress. We're both moaning our quiet pleasure sounds that
seemingly come out on their own.

The only body part of Rob that's moving is the most important part of him
at the moment... his hips. His hips are pushing and pulling his hard boner
back and forth in my ass with brilliant fireworks of pleasure sparking in
my brain. Staring at Rob's face I see his facial expressions change as the
sensations coming off his sensitive hard penis peak to thrilling levels
that occasionally could be approaching pain if I'm interpreting his
expressions correctly. Even though I'm not holding them back now, my legs
are still bent and pulled back, my feet hanging limply and swinging
slightly with every one of Rob's steady thrusts.

This experience pretty much defies description. Yep, sharing sex with my
lover is the gold standard of sex for me and I especially like when we fuck
in this position because I can see Robby's face, plus a lot of his body is
either touching me or in very close proximity. Two, three, four minutes of
constant pleasure from his hard fat boner sliding tightly in my
rectum. Sliding more smoothly now that his boner has opened me up just wide
enough to allow it to move. The pleasure is constant and incredibly awesome
but not quite at the level that will ignite a climax response... it's
almost there, but not quite. Oh, God though, it feels so fucking good!

Beads of sweat form on Rob's forehead, his eyes are closed again as his
hips keep moving. Robby's sexy lips are slightly parted as I watch one of
the sweat beads roll into his hair that's sticking to his sweaty
forehead. Our sexual dance continues longer than I'm able to keep track of,
my body moving back and forth with the rhythm of Rob's trusting and I
couldn't be in a deeper trance of sexual pleasure. It's a dreamy deep
sexual pleasure like no other... like nothing else can equal. My trance
transports me someplace where there's no worries or bad luck or
unpleasantness of any kind. A floating pleasure with the one person in the
universe I want to take this trip with the most.

Maybe it's seven, eight, nine minutes of perfect sexual pleasure and still
no clapping or slapping of our bodies together. That doesn't distract at
all from incredible levels of pleasure though, this isn't hypnotically
pleasurable... it's sexual pleasure to a degree that defies
description. There's a growing desire in me for more bodily contact though
so I pull gently on the back of Rob's neck and he lowers his head
obligingly until our faces are together. I think Rob's in a sexual trance
too because we don't kiss. Instead, our faces bump and slide together as
perspiration begins forming on my face too and I've been hearing constant
whining sounds the last minute or so that's becoming a distraction and then
I realize it's me making the sounds. They're involuntary sounds though and
out of my control, especially considering the state I find myself in. A
state of near euphoria as my arms stay around the back of Rob's neck
holding his face tighter against the side of my face. His hands leave my
shoulders to hold onto my biceps as he moans, "Ooooh, mmm," and I know that
any second now he's gonna start faster thrusting... and he does, he starts
harder thrusting with his climax taking hold of his brain and body.

At first there are slow, "Slap, slap, slap," sounds and then with Robby
moaning, "Oh, ooh, oooh," the slapping sound come faster, "Slapslapslap,"
Robby smacking against my butt cheeks and then fifteen seconds later it,
"SLAPSLAPSLAP,' sounds really loud and fast that soon border on getting out
of fucking control.

The thrusting gets desperately wild now and I can barely hold his head down
as I cling to Robby until out of nowhere my climax roars up on me and with
every muscle in my body seemingly contracting simultaneously I squeal as a
shockingly long hard stream of creamy cum sizzles up and out my hard boner
... the creamy substance pours out but there's hardly any place for it to
go so it splatters onto both our stomachs and chests and then, following
another clench of muscles out flies another hot stream of semen with my
whole body shaking and Robby humping against my buttocks pumping his creamy
load up my ass. One hard long stream of it... oooh my God! Then more
desperate humps against my ass, almost animalistic humping as Rob's pumping
more cum out and the whole world is on fire! No, it's me who's on
fire... I'm hot and sweaty but the 'fire' is in my mind. Rob keeps humping
against my ass although surely his nuts must be dry by now.

Rob's thrusting slows down significantly and he lets out a long moan, then
stops thrusting completely to lay forward until he's flat against my
stomach and chest which squishes my cum between our bodies, Rob sort of
sliding in it. I drop my legs and stretch them out on the mattress sighing
but still concentrating on the lingering sparks of pleasure zipping all
over me. Then another shoulders shudder... and I'm done.

No movement except our chests raising and lowering as we take deep breaths,
our hearts pounding against our ribs. Yeah, that's our world for
thirty-seconds... Rob lying on me, both of us breathing noisily while
listening to our heart thunder in our chests. Then, with a sigh, Robby
stretches his legs back too and that pulls his sloppy cock from my ass. I
go, "Ahhh, ooh," as my rectum's last sizzle of nerve endings shimmer out
the last of the pleasure from my latest sex act. Robby moans, "Ummm," lying
fully on me from head to toes. We're the same height so, ya know, our
sloppy cocks are squished together, sticky with our cum. Most of his cum
is, of course, drooling out of my ass while all of my spunk is between
us. We're gonna need to change these sheets 'cause I don't want my mom
doing it.

My arms are spread out as I'm thinking that nothing ever felt that good,
not for that long anyhow. Rob slides partially off me while reaching behind
him with a hand to see if there's some mattress for him to lie on this
small bed. There's some mattress so he slides off further until our sides
are tight together with Rob on his stomach and me still on my back, Rob's
arm across my chest. He takes another deep breath and murmurs, "That was
nice, huh, babe?"

Haha, that was a feeble attempt by Rob to get me complimenting his fucking
by saying it was MUCH better than nice. So, what the fuck, I say, "The best
ever, that's how nice that was." He snorts out a chuckle and says, "I just
remembered you saying a long time ago, you know, in one of your rants
against the world that all 'tops' want compliments about their
fucking. That's what you probably thought I was doing, didn't you?" I go,
"Nooo! Don't be silly. I meant other 'tops', not you."

He snickers and mutters, "Sure ya did," and then he asks something
practical, "How about a quick shower now?" I'm drunk enough to be
impractical, saying, "Nah, I'll deal with our mess in the morning." He
takes another big inhale and then says, "So will I."

Sighing, I sit up so I can reach down to straighten the covers and then
pull them over us, mumbling, "I'm sticky." No comment from Robby. We lie
like this for a while and then fall asleep naked and lying in our own goo.

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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