Date: Fri, 7 Jun 2019 16:58:01 +0000 (UTC)
From: Bill <mgtbill@aol.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter. 48

DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter. 48

by Donny. Mumford



Yeah, that was a sexy afternoon with Danny, and in some ways a confusing
one too but now I'm in the apartment waiting for Robby. Naturally, I've
showered and messed around with my hair so I'll look as good as I can for
him. Sitting on the sofa I've got a new book on my lap but I'm not reading
it. Instead, I've been running over some things in my mind until I've
pretty much convinced myself I need to have a 'talk' with Robby about what
my goofy summer crush on Danny has turned into. I need Rob's opinion,
advice, or insight... I need something because Danny means more to me than
just a guy I have buddy sex with, and I don't know what to do about that.

The situation with Danny is mostly my fault, of course, but then what isn't
my fault? Everything's my fault. Oh, balls, feeling sorry for myself is
useless and stupid. 'Everything' is not my fault, but this Danny-situation
mostly is. The thing is though, any talk I have with Robby about that is
sure to disappoint him and be extremely uncomfortable for me. Not that I'm
going to have that talk right now anyway.

Right now I'm excited that Rob's gonna be here momentarily. It's hard to
describe but I simply do not feel like myself when we're not together. It's
corny and trite, but I don't know how else to put it except to say I feel
incomplete when Rob and I are apart for any longer than a day. I miss him,
I love him, and I need him!

I keep returning to my dilemma though. The one about Danny insisting he's
in love with me, which is his reason for doing lover's sex, but what's my
reason for going along with it? I can tell myself I don't want to hurt his
feelings by refusing to participate, but that would be a weak-ass
rationalization. Well, we didn't do his version of lover's sex today anyway
but when he does, my participation does a disservice to all three of
us. Robby for obvious reasons, Danny because I'm sending him the wrong
signals, and me because I know it's wrong and I don't feel good about it
afterward.

Sure, I've finally admitted to myself Danny and I have a more meaningful
relationship than a normal buddy sex relationship, but exactly why that is,
um, I don't know how to put into words. I've had a great deal of experience
screwing with buddies so I kinda know what I'm talking about when I can at
least state definitively we're not in love.

It's unique, our relationship. It started innocently enough for me as a fun
sexy 'crush' early last summer. It was fun for me while both Danny and Rob
seemed amused by it. Danny certainly didn't take my crush on him seriously
and I can see his point because we'd known each other for over three years
without me showing any particular interest in him sexually. Then, all of I
sudden BANG I've got a crush on him, etc. etc. etc... Maybe he assumed I
was kidding around with the crush. Actually, haha, I thought I was too at
first, but the crush wouldn't go away, ya know?

That's the weird history behind what has become a for-real relationship of
some kind. It's like I have serious feelings for him now. For his part, I
don't think he knows what being 'in love' means and that's been my position
until now when I'm starting to think I might be rationalizing again. Maybe
he does know but all I know for sure is I've have been fooled about love
myself. As a youngster, I fooled myself into thinking I was in love with a
few guys only to discover later that I wasn't. That became obvious when I
fell in love with Robby and recognized the difference. Being 'in love' has
a unique 'feel' all its own. It can be tricky though and I only wish I had
a better grasp of...

My musings get interrupted by a sound in the hallway. I look over at the
door, listening closely and I think I heard Rob's heavy footsteps. The
sounds have stopped outside the door. Hmm, it's either the Bigfoot monster
or more likely Robby. As I'm getting up, the door opens and, Omigod, I'm
shocked for a second at my heart going, BOOM BOOM BOOM! Seeing Robby
standing there has my heart pounding fast and he's only been away a couple
of days!

That's what being in love feels like.

Our eyes lock and we smile brightly at each other, but no, we don't run
into each other's arms like a couple of corny dipshits. He drops his
satchel next to the door, and says, "Hi, Dylan." I go, "Robby?" making it
sound like a question as if I wasn't expecting him. He does a snorting
chuckle, saying, "Well, how about a hug," and we walk together and hug too
tightly before kissing and then we just hug each other with Robby swaying
us side to side a little as he murmurs, "I've missed you so much, babe." I
squeeze him, saying, "Me too Robby."

Stepping back from him, still smiling I say, "Damn, I'm glad you're back!"
But, wow, I don't remember ever seeing him look this tired before. He goes,
"Christ, you're acting as awkward as I feel... haha. We don't handle being
separated very well, do we? Why is that?" I shrug, "I don't know, um,
didn't you get any sleep the last two nights?" and I sort of tentatively
touch the left cheek of his exhausted-looking face.

He takes my hand in his and squeezes it, sighing and then mumbling, "No,
not much sleep," and then we're hugging again as I mutter, "You don't want
to go to bed right now, do you?" He goes, "Jesus, the word 'bed' sounds
enticing," and as we let go of each other again, he adds, "But what I
really want to do is sit with you, have a couple of beers and just, I don't
know, talk and be together." I'm still kinda shocked at how excited I am
that he's back, but yet I can't think what to say. Ya know something that
won't sound dorky. To my lack of response, Robby grins, saying, "Or, if you
don't feel like talking and having a beer, I'll settle for just looking at
you." Now it's my turn to snort out a laugh and then mutter, "I get nervous
when I'm stared at, so I better get us a couple of beers and think of
something to say."

Rob chuckles too as he follows me to the kitchen where I get two beers from
the refrigerator, asking, "Have you eaten?" Sitting at the kitchen bar, he
goes, "Nah, I haven't been eating much. Mom wasn't 'doing' dinners the last
couple of nights." I'm like, Oh, jeez," and he shrugs, "We've been existing
on sandwiches, if that," and he chuckles again, adding, "There hasn't been
a lot of free time because Dad is a humongous pain in the ass as a
patient. He doesn't handle being sick or injured well at all." I'm like,
"Really? Huh!" I'm thinking the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree
because Rob's a lousy patient too.

I don't say that though. Instead, I ask, "What's his, um, condition? Why's
he so cranky?" Robby twists off the cap on his bottle of Bud, saying, "Oh,
Christ, you name it and he's bitching about it. Well, mostly I guess his
biggest bitch is he can't fucking sleep. Certainly not on his back which is
how he's apparently used to sleeping. Any movement causes him excruciating
pain. He needs help doing everything, but especially when trying to
sleep. Every position change requires help so he can avoid using back
muscles that cause pain. I guess that's what happens. All I know is he's
constantly calling me to help him and I mean at any hour of the day or
night... sometimes five minutes apart." I go, "Jesus!" and he adds, "Yeah,
and lots of complaining coming from him, cursing and complaining as if it's
my fault he slipped and twisted his back or spine... whatever."

We both drink some beer as I try imagining that nightmare scenario. Robby
swallows and then bitches some more, "And forget about dad getting out of
bed on his own. Yeah, the hospital bed was supposed to help. Mom and I
rented an expensive one with all kinds of controls that can get the
mattress moving in every conceivable position." I go, "Oh, that was smart,"
and he shrugs, saying, "Yeah, but conveniently for mom and dad, I'm
apparently the only person on earth who knows how to work the controls. And
the different positions of the mattress are no fucking help anyway. And, oh
man Dylan, it's a major fucking production when dad needs to take a piss,
or something worse?" I nod my head but I do not want to imagine that in
much detail.

Rob chugs a quarter of the beer, and then goes on, "And he refuses to use a
bedpan!" I can't think of anything to say, except, "Oh, jeez..." Shaking
his head, Rob mumbles, "And, Christ, listen to me complaining! I sound like
my dad. Sorry, but it feels good venting without having a guilty conscience
about doing it. Ya know, I felt bad complaining to mom although I did
plenty of it. Hell, she's going through the same thing I am, and then it's
Dad who's suffering the humiliation, plus the pain."

Looking as sympathetic as possible, I'm like, "Oh fuck, feel free to vent
to me all you want. That's a difficult and, um, horrendous situation you've
been dealing with. You're a good son for doing all that." Robby goes, "And
never mind I needed to sit in those Goddamn meetings too. Um, and then
'squeal' to dad on the managers who weren't, um, prepared or who weren't
totally committed, or whatever. I'm like a spy in there and I think the
managers know it, and that sucks too." I'm like, "Omigod, I'm so
sorry. What a horrible couple of days you've had. Balls, um, ah..."

I don't know what else to say about that, so I change the subject, "Um,
what can I make you for dinner? I haven't eaten either." Rob goes,
"Anything you fix I'll gobble up, babe, I'm starving." Hmm, something quick
then. I'm like, "How about cheeseburgers and fries?" He goes, "Awesome!
That's perfect, thank you!" Poor guy! Ya know, as bad as Rob's making it
sound, I'm sure it's way worse actually living through it for real.

In the microwave, I'm defrosting two half-pound hamburger patties that I
formed myself from a two-pound package of 80/20 hamburger a week
ago. Obviously, I made four patties from the two pounds of hamburger, the
other two remain frozen in the freezer in case we need them. With the
microwave making its microwave humming-sound, I ask Rob, "How about if I
throw a salad together real fast right now so you can eat that while I get
things cooking." Robby smiles and says, "It's so good being home with you,
Dylan. You take care of me. You treat me better than my mother." Oh,
goodie, he's comparing me to his mother now. Haha, I guess that's okay as
long as he doesn't start talking to me like he talks to her.

As Robby's telling me about the notes-taking he had to do in the meeting
Friday afternoon and this morning, I'm making his salad: Romaine lettuce,
half-inch cubes of Granny Smith apple, English cucumber slices, radish
slices, red onion rings, and two cut-up Italian plum tomatoes. During the
winter months, Italian plum tomatoes taste more like tomatoes than any
other kind I've tried. The hothouse tomatoes are usually hard and almost
orange. They're almost tasteless and the tomatoes on the vine are just
hothouse tomatoes they leave a vine attached to so they can charge more
money per pound.

As usually happens, the salad I make is a lot bigger than I planned on, but
so what? For a salad dressing, I mix virgin olive oil with Ken's Italian
dressing and toss everything in a bowl so it all gets a light coating of
the dressing. The olive oil is to dilute Ken's dressing that we feel, while
a delicious salad dressing, is too intense by itself.

When I put the big bowl of salad in front of Rob, he asks, "Is this whole
bowl for me?" I put salt and pepper shakers and a fork and paper napkin
next to the bowl, saying, "Yes, Sir! It's our deluxe salad for
$37.95. Rolls go good with a salad. Would you like a couple at $3.75 each?"
He goes, "For that bargain price how could I say no." I get him two dinner
rolls and set the butter in front of him, and then say, "We're running
specials on rental butter-knives at a dollar per fifteen minutes, or $2.00
for the entire meal. That special $2.00 rate is for a knife that's been
used by a previous customer." He goes, "No, I'm getting short on cash so
I'll spread the butter with my fork." I go, "Very good, Sir."

Robby's grinning as he mumbles, "I've missed our dog and pony acts too,
babe," and then he hesitates, his fork held ready to dig into the salad as
he asks, "Are you sure you don't want any of this ginormous salad?" Putting
a knife next to the dinner rolls, I shake my head, "No, you go ahead," and
he does. Robby's a polite eater; he doesn't eat with his mouth open, and he
doesn't smack his lips or talk with his mouth full, and he doesn't make
gross eating-sounds either. He's good like that. Some people, Omigod, they
have no idea how rude... well, never mind that now.

Here's something I've recently discovered, it's that frozen French fries
when sprayed lightly with that canned olive oil spray and baked in the oven
are almost as good as deep frying them, and one-tenth the trouble. What you
do is first spread out the frozen fries and discard a third of them. Throw
out all the stubby or misshapen fries and then spread the long fries on a
baking sheet. After using the 'alleged' olive oil spray, who knows if it's
actually olive oil or not, I stick the baking sheet in a pre-heated
oven. The time to salt the fries is when they come out of the oven, in case
ya didn't know that.

When I've done that, the defrosted hamburgers go in a hot frying pan. If
you hear sizzling in a frying pan, it's hot enough. If you don't hear the
sizzle, you screwed up and the hamburgers will be greasy.  Leaning against
the counter now, I watch Robby devour the salad. He's shoving it in pretty
fast and when he 'feels' me watching him, he looks up sheepishly and says,
"I'm fucking starving, alright?" I shrug and mumble, "You're doing good. Is
my staring while you eat a problem?" He shakes his head chuckling and then
stuffs half a buttered roll in his mouth, and doesn't make a sound while
chewing it.

After a minute, I say, "That's not a completely horrendous haircut you've
got there, Robert. Did you go to that Framingham barbershop you used to use
before you were lucky enough to meet me?" Looking up as he swallows, he
says, "Yeah, but it's like, I don't know," and he touches his head, "I got
this nothing-special haircut there. Both barbers were women. The one with a
large ring through her nose and both arms covered with tattoos told me old
Ralph and his brother retired. The lady barber I got was like fifty years
old and it was zip, zip, zip with the clippers as though she couldn't be
bothered, or maybe she had a taxi cab outside waiting for her with the
meter running." I snicker, and Rob adds, "She was done in like five
minutes, and then it's like... that'll be eighteen dollars. And she
probably expected a tip too. Sorry to disappoint her." Huh, yeah that's
about how it goes.

He eats some more salad as I'm thinking we've all been spoiled because of
the excellent home-haircutting that's been going on in our neighborhood for
years now... thanks to me! Well, yeah, I started it all. Rob swallows some
lettuce and goes, "Danny's haircuts are more distinctive looking, ya know?
It looks like you just got a haircut when he's done, but this lady barber,
um, well, as you said it's not completely horrendous although that's the
best I can say about it." I exaggeratedly pretend I'm clearing my
throat. Rob snickers before muttering, "Well, of course, the haircuts you
used to give me were distinctive too, Dylan! Jeez, that goes without
saying, babe. Gawd, I mean obviously!"

He likes Danny's haircuts better than mine, the turncoat.. haha. Finished
the second roll, Robby goes, "And, did I mention I really like your
haircut? You just got it cut, right?" Nodding, I say, "Yes, today, um,
thanks. It's, ah, distinctive." He laughs.

Here's the irony: much of the haircutting done at the average local
barbershop, and I mean for years now, look like the old-time amateur home
haircuts of the past, Ones you might see in old pictures. That's what you
pay twenty dollars for while the home haircuts nowadays generally look more
professional like back when barbers had an ounce of pride. Of course,
today's barbers are purposely giving horrific looking haircuts 'cause
that's the style currently. I've described the various hideous haircuts but
most guys haven't a clue about what's a good looking haircut so it's all
good as far as they're concerned. They're happy to stupidly say, 'Here's my
twenty dollars plus a nice fat tip for this old-timey home-haircut'. The
brainwashed suckers.

Realizing he sidestepped a landmine by remembering only at the last
possible second to include my barbering as 'distinctive' too, Robby quickly
changes the subject and says, "You make the most delicious salads, babe."
Haha, as if I grew the vegetables or made the salad dressing. I mutter, "I
put my fucking heart and soul into that salad for you, babe, and what do I
get? You hurt my feelings saying Danny's a better barber than me." He looks
concerned, "No, I didn't say that! I said..." but he sees me smirking and
he goes, "You ballbuster. Well, Danny is a better barber... so there! How
do you like that?" I go, "Bite me," and he goes, "PLUS, you aren't allowed
to use the word 'babe'! That's my word for you."

It's fun joking around with Robby. He didn't use to do much of that but
he's caught on to it and plays a great straight-man role now. And, wow,
he's making short work of that big bowl of salad. And then I'm thinking,
'Gee, I hope Mrs. D. is back to fixing our meals when we go home Thursday
night. I like her cooking!' Then I follow up that thought with, 'Oh, fuck,
am I gonna need to help Mr. Dickers take a piss? Or worse, a shit?' Haha,
Where'd that thought come from?

After flipping the hamburgers, I start unwrapping slices of Kraft American
cheese singles, saying, "So, Robert, you left your mom to deal with your
dad on her own, huh? That doesn't sound like something you'd do." He's done
the salad and pushed the empty bowl away. After wiping his mouth with a
napkin, he says, "No, I'm not leaving her alone. At my suggestion, we
contacted a home nursing company, or whatever they're called, and we have a
male nurse coming in every night. He'll be there from ten o'clock until
seven the next morning taking care of dad during the night. Mom can get a
good night's sleep in the guest bedroom." Oh, that's good thinking.

After warming the hamburger rolls, I put two slices of cheese on each
burger, asking, "Do ya want pickle slices on your cheeseburger?" Robby
grins, muttering, "Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back? Of course, I want
pickles, don't you?" I go, "Does Pinocchio have a wooden dick?" and we both
laugh. I go, "I don't think anyone has come up with new idioms for the
obvious 'yes' answers to the unnecessary questions." Robby goes, "And I
don't think anyone has come up with a better one than the original... 'Does
a bear shit in the woods?' That's never been topped if you ask me."

He's still snickering, mumbling, "Haha, I forgot that Pinocchio one. That
makes me laugh, babe, and that's the first really good laugh I've had since
the last time you made me laugh." I go, "Not a fun time at home or work,
huh?" He mumbles, "You could say that, yeah, but I'm here with you now and
I can't stop smiling!" I go, "Except to eat," and he goes, "Yeah, except
for that."

I join him on the other side of the kitchen bar and there's no more talking
as we eat out cheeseburgers and fries. I eat everything almost as fast as
Rob so obviously I was hungrier than I thought. Rob wants to help clean up
the kitchen when we're done eating but I make him stay seated where he
is. After getting us fresh beers, I clean up the kitchen mess, saying, "I'm
surprised your mom didn't try to get you to stay until Tuesday morning."
Robby goes, "Oh, she did. She wanted me to stay all next week but I
reminded her that I'm a friggin' college student. That's what I told her."
I can imagine he wasn't very nice about it 'cause Robby doesn't always talk
nicely to his mom.

He drinks some beer and then says wistfully, "Actually, I felt bad leaving
mom, but tonight the male nurse guy will be there and, seriously, no bull
shit, I missed you so much I was starting to feel wicked sorry for
myself. I was lonely for you and very frustrated with the situation at home
and work and, frankly, worried I might say something to mom or dad that I'd
regret. Ya know, if I stayed any longer. I swear, I sometimes wonder how my
parents made it this far in life without them feeling as though I need to
do everything. Christ, they're asking me if we should do this or that!
They're supposed to be the parents and I'm the kid, right? What the fuck do
I know?"

Hmm, I go, "Well, they respect you, Rob. I do too, so get prepared for me
asking you if we should do this or that." He grins and says, "It's a
million times more fun deciding stuff for you, sweetheart," and we both
laugh because he called me 'sweetheart'. He called me that on the phone
yesterday too and it creeped us both out. I say, "Yes, dear, I know what
you mean," and we both go, "Ew, creepy!" Funny how those terms of
endearment seem alien to us. It's the same way 'babe' and 'baby' used to
sound creepy to us but now they seem okay. I like them, but then I'm gay,
so...

With the kitchen cleaned-up and both of us feeling satisfied food-wise, we
sit on the sofa with Rob putting his arm across my shoulders, saying, "I
could manage some half-ass sex, Dylan, if you want. God knows I want to,
but I feel so out of it and I'm so fucking tired I'd probably be terrible
at it." I'm like, "Half-ass sex, huh? Nah, let's wait until after you've
slept for twelve hours and then, hopefully, you'll be able to manage at
least some three-quarter-ass sex; half-ass sex sucks." He chuckles and
goes, "Tomorrow morning, baby, I'm gonna shoot for seven-eighths-ass sex."

We both snicker at that nonsense and then we're quiet for a couple of
minutes as I snuggle in against him. Robby rubs my back murmuring, "Have I
told you lately that I love you?" I go, "Not recently, no. Oh, Rob! Do that
song... sing that country song to me. The one that goes something like,
'the heart that you own'. Heh heh, meaning I own your heart." He sighs and
goes, "Yeah, you do own it, but I forget the words to the song."

We're quiet again, both feeling totally comfortable with the silence until
Robby asks, "So, babe, did you do anything fun yesterday or today?" I
shrug, mumbling, "I don't remember what I did yesterday right this second,
but I was with Danny today getting my haircut and then... well, you know
about us two rabbits." He nods his head and mutters, "Uh huh,
good. Seriously, I'm glad for you." I look at him and say, "But right now
I'm with the only person on earth I wanna be with forever, and it ain't
even close." He nods his head again and mutters, "I know, Dylan. Me too,"
and we kiss. He barely finishes his kiss before a yawn, a big yawn happens
with Robby covering his mouth and then saying, "I'm sorry for yawning in
your face, Dylan." I stand up, saying, "C'mon, I'm putting you to bed."

After we both take a beer piss and wash up at the bathroom sink, he asks,
"You going to bed now too, Dylan?" I go, "No, it's too early. I wouldn't be
able to fall asleep and I might keep you awake with my inappropriate
touching." He snickers and starts brushing his teeth. I lean against the
door jamb watching him, saying, "I need to talk you about something
though. It's ah, well, something we agreed not to discuss, but I don't
wanna talk about it now. Not when you need sleep, but sometime soon. It's
about Danny and me. Um, I don't know exactly what, but..."

Rob's done rinsing his mouth and he holds up a hand, saying, "Danny can be
captivating, Dylan. I know that. He has so many things going for him, um,
that's if you can overlook his inherent goofiness. Hey, we can talk about
it now if you want, but it'd probably be better if..." I shake my head,
"No, not now. I need to think about what I'm going to say. It's just that,
I don't know, he's become special, sort of, and I don't mean that it in any
way that detracts from you and me. I mean Danny is my buddy who, that is,
he and I... well, I don't fucking know what I mean."

I'm following Rob into the bedroom as he's saying, "We'll talk about it
when you want to. I already told you Danny said some things to me about you
and him a couple of weeks ago. Stuff about how he's in love with you and
how I never took him as seriously as I should, and blah, blah, blah. If he
told me shit like that a year or two ago I'd have given it some serious
thought, but presently, babe, I'm not worried about it. Should I be?" I go,
"Nope, I just want to ask your advice, um, when I figure out what to ask. I
wanted you to know I have a concern, that's all. And, as you said, we'll
talk about it later."

He gets under the covers and sighs, "Oh, Jesus, a full night's sleep is
gonna be so sweet, Dylan... a whole night's sleep! I never realized how
necessary a good night's sleep is." I lean over him and Robby puts his arms
around the back of my neck as I mutter, "I've got beer breath." Robby
smiles and we kiss for like fifteen seconds. He holds my face against his
and whispers, "Don't worry, babe, I've had personal experience with
Framingham's Don Juan, Danny Monday, so I can tell you... you'll be fine
and so will he," and he kisses the side of my face, and then murmurs, "I
love you and I'm so happy to be back with you!" I murmur, "I love you too,
Robert Dickers. Hey, maybe I will be Dylan Dickers... alliteration is
cool!" He mutters, "Whatever..."

We say 'goodnight' and, oh boy, I feel better now that I've mentioned the
concern or confusion I have about Danny and me. Robby knows Danny better
and anyone except probably Hayden. I'm thinking I might ask Hayden's advice
too, but first I'm gonna talk with Robby. Flopping down on the sofa I take
a deep breath feeling a sense of relief. This is the first time I've felt I
needed to talk or, I don't know, confess, or something with Rob about my
feelings for Danny, or anyone else for that matter. Well, hell, I've just
recently, earlier today actually, admitted Danny's been right that we have
a relationship of some kind. I can no longer in all honesty think of us as
just a couple of friends having buddy sex for the fun of it. We mean more
to each other than that.

It's just that it feels nice and safe to me with Danny's arms around me and
him saying he'll take care of everything. The confidence the boy has is off
the fucking charts! His scent and his great body and his youthful cute face
and his way of kissing and... well it can make me lose my mind for a
time. BUT those are 'sexual' thoughts... not lover's thoughts! Although,
jeez, maybe he is in love with me. Who am I to say he isn't? If in his mind
he is, isn't that enough? Me saying he doesn't know what being in love
means is stupid! If you think you're in love, then you are, right? I don't
know, but whether he is or isn't doesn't change the dilemma I have, which
is... what am I gonna do about it?

And, no, I'm not thinking I'm some irresistible cool dude who can leave
them weeping and be good with it. Far from it. Then there's Rob telling me
that Danny falls in love easily, but not for long. His warning, or whatever
it was, meaning Danny losing interest in me is a possible built-in solution
to my concern, although it seems unlikely. There's also Danny whispering in
my ear this afternoon that I shouldn't be afraid, that he'll make it work
which is sort of what Robby said five minutes ago. They both can't be
right, can they?

My cell phone beeps and I jump a foot off the sofa. No, I didn't actually
jump a foot off the sofa. I was startled, that's all. Pulling the cell
phone from my pocket I see a text from Danny: 'everything okay, baby?' I'm
thinking about you... about us' Well, fuck! I'm getting antsy pants from
just reading his friggin' text. Be cool! I text back 'Fun afternoon... all
is well. See you tomorrow... maybe.' I wait for a minute but that seems to
be the end of our texting... good!

The next hour and a half fly by as I get into my new book. And oh boy,
there's a really evil villain doing terrible things that Lucas Davenport,
the hero of this series, will really get pissed off about and hunt the evil
prick down. It's getting late though so I make myself stop reading and do
my bathroom stuff before sliding into bed gently so I don't disturb
Robby. Hmm, on second thought banging on pots and pans with a hammer
wouldn't disturb him tonight.

After lying here for a minute I peer closely at Rob in the dark. He's doing
that thing where he sleeps so soundly he appears dead. Of course he not but
I get really close to him and when I feel his breath on my face, I lie back
trying to formulate what I want to say to him tomorrow about Danny and
me. But what can I say? Hmm? We don't have classes tomorrow or Monday so we
can do whatever the fuck we want and I don't wanna screw that up. Yeah,
it's probably best if I don't say anything about Danny until some other
time. Getting into some serious discussion about my latest mistake will
likely put a damper on our days off, plus there's no urgent need to rush
into that awkward conversation anyway.

As it turns out, saying anything about Danny isn't remotely on my mind when
Robby finally wakes up around nine-thirty Sunday morning. I've been awake
lying here in bed looking at Rob's good looks thinking how good he is for
me, and what a good person he is. I've been doing that for more than half
an hour before he finally opens his eyes and turns to me. I go, "Hi," and
he says, "Hi. Wow, it's exhilarating waking up and seeing you next to me in
bed, Dylan." I mutter, "Exhilarating, you say?" He snickers, "Yeah, strange
choice of words, huh? I'm feeling wonderful after a great night's sleep and
then seeing you next to me... that's pretty special," and he leans over and
we have a kiss that I expect will be a good morning quick kiss like we
often have, but no. Rob slides over to hold my head with both hands and the
kiss becomes a lusciously sexy lover's kiss and, oh yeah, there is a
difference between Rob's kiss and any other kiss I've ever gotten from
anyone at any time. It's not the sexiest kiss in the world like Hayden,
Danny, and one or two other guys do, but Rob's is more special in a million
other ways. The reason is very simple and very obvious... this is a lover's
kiss from my true love.

Yeah, it's like a Valentine Day kiss, as silly as that day is, or the kiss
when you get engaged, or the kiss when you've been away and you've
reunited, and it's the kiss you get when the preacher man says 'I pronounce
you man and man', haha! It's a kiss on your birthday, and the kiss for
celebrating something incredible that's happened for the two of
you... yeah, this morning's kiss with Robby is all those kisses rolled into
one long series of kisses.

We're making out under the covers and these kisses tell me... we're golden!
Robby and I are gold standard lovers and we always will be. These kisses
seem to say we'll deal with whatever we need to because we have each
other. That's what our making out feels like to me. It's also very sexual
and our bodies do what bodies in situations like this do which is bring on
very erect penises that soon emit pre-cum in preparation for
intercourse. That's what our bodies and brains assume will follow this
level of kissing and touching called foreplay. It's all programmed in our
DNA so there's nothing extra we need to do, we just let it happen.

We make love the way young gay men make love, anally. Rob's erection goes
up my ass and, while there's some pain for me, there's an indescribable
pleasure too. It's sexual pleasure almost beyond sensibilities. Omigod, we
enjoy our first fuck of the day so much we do it again. We do this
lovemaking until even dedicated fans of lover's sex, like Rob and I, become
satisfied.

Afterward, we hug and cuddle while murmuring words of love and affection
while adding over-the-top mutual compliments until even dedicated lovers
who tend toward the maudlin in circumstances like this, like Rob and me,
are satisfied we've said everything we want to say. Then we snuggle
together silently until one of the two lovers, the one who hasn't slept
much the two nights prior, falls back to sleep in the other lover's arms.

We made love for an hour and a half, or maybe longer than that this
morning. It was a lover's sexy morning for the ages. It's funny but true
that neither of us knows in advance when something like this morning's
making out, sex, and maudlin conversation will occur. It's never planned by
either of us. We need to be in a special mood plus the planets and stars
need to be aligned just right before everything can happen as close to
perfection as this morning' lover's sex turned out to be.

Nothing can be perfect though, or at least that's what I've read, but this
was as close to perfection as I've experienced. How odd that it would
happen after I'd just realized Danny and I had some kind of new, special
relationship. New to me but I can see clearly now the difference between
that new relationship with Danny and the one Robby and I have had, and
still have. And let me tell you, there's a Grand Canyon of differences
between the two. And it's good to be reminded of that, but it wasn't
planned because as I already said, you can't plan nearly a perfect morning
of making love.

Yeah, and I just realized Robby didn't use lubricant this morning. Omigod,
can I believe I just realized that? Well, we never used it in our early
years either. In our ignorance, we simply never thought about it back then
when our enthusiasm for fucking with each other knew no bounds, and I'm not
saying I want to go back to our early days of lube-less screwing. No, I'm
not thinking that at all, but for this morning it was just right. Well,
hell, of course, it was just right or else how could it be almost
perfection? Ya don't do almost perfect sex every fucking day of the week
though, so I see a return to lubricant usage... probably immediately.

Christ, I feel giddy after that lover's sex and giddy to be reminded that
nobody does it as good as Robby. I already knew that but I'm happy to have
it proven to me again. Call me naive but I know Robby better than anyone,
and everything we did just happened organically, naturally on its own. I
can tell these things because I've had extensive experience with making
love of all types. If we had rehearsed for hours and hours we couldn't have
duplicated this near perfect sexual morning. Well, in a way I guess you
could say we have been rehearsing for over five years now.

Sigh, yes, a big fat sigh of contentment from me as I look at Robby
sleeping again. You've got to be almost absurdly comfortable and familiar
with one another, and know intimately what each other likes during sex,
before a marathon lover's sex act like we just had can happen. It's as
though I can't imagine ever replicating it, and I mean even with Robby. And
the thought I could replicate it with anyone else is lunacy.

When it's apparent Rob isn't going to wake up again any time soon, I slide
out of bed. Jeez, haha, I'm sticky with cum so I pad into the bathroom to
do everything in there I normally do, including a long shower. While doing
all that I take turns smiling and grinning to myself because I feel so
good, so happy on this Sunday morning, so glad to be alive and living the
life I'm living. I almost feel guilty about being so fortunate. I have a
sweet and loving mom, two of them actually, and the world's best brother,
and an incredibly long history of side sex, minus a few wrong turns, and
good friends, and good health... and the perfect lover. So, no, I didn't
win a million dollars in Las Vegas that turned out to be three hundred and
fifty thousand, not that kind of luck, and I can't sing or play the piano
so I'm not lucky in every way possible, but I'm a very lucky person in a
helluva lot of ways, and in more important ways than those other things I
named. It's good to realize that, and be grateful... and I am grateful!

Dressed now, I'm in the kitchen putting together a cheese quiche, which is
a flan in case ya didn't know. I use a pie pan and store-bought pastry for
the crust. The crust gets filled with a mixture of eggs, cream, and cheese,
plus a couple of shots of Frank's hot sauce. Yeah, I put that shit in
everything. The quiche will bake in the oven like a pie. When it's baked,
it can be eaten hot, room temperature, or cold so when Robby eventually
wakes up we can have the quiche along with the Jimmy Dean breakfast sausage
I'm frying in a pan. Its the Jimmy Dean sausage that comes in a fat tube so
I can cut slices of it whatever size I like. I'm also doing home fries with
onion and peppers so this is obviously a brunch rather than a
breakfast. Hmm, I've got Navel oranges and blueberries for a fruit salad. A
sad fruit salad but better than none. I'm in such a good mood I wish I
could sing... um, no, that'd be geeky. Singing in the kitchen while making
breakfast is geeky. Instead, I turn on the radio to see if there are any
new tunes worth listening to.

Everything is cooking and Rob's still sleeping so I drive over to the
rental office and buy a Sunday Boston Globe newspaper. When I get back I
hear the shower running in the bathroom. Okay, Robby's awake! Hmm, I'm
still very much in an energetic excellent frame of mind so I strip the bed
and put on fresh sheets and pillowcases. We distributed some bodily fluids
on the sheets. We only slept on the sheets once, but so what? They need
changing.

As I'm finishing that little chore, Rob turns off the shower and then I'm
back in the kitchen taking the quiche out of the oven and then I squeeze
fresh orange juice, make two mugs of coffee, and stick some English muffins
in the toaster. Talk about the Energizer Bunny... he's got nothing on me
this morning. I do all that as Robby's getting dressed and when he walks
out of the bedroom he looks one hundred percent better than he did last
night. He's smiling while saying, "This is more like it, Dylan! This is the
proper way to wake up in the morning. You're an awesome lover and an
awesome cook! So, what are we having for breakfast, babe?"

Yeah, we had our wonderful morning of lover's sex and we cuddled afterward
and overdid our terms of endearments and compliments for one another,
overdid them to the maudlin point before stopping and yet we're not phonily
acting lovey/dovey or making goo-goo eyes at each other now. The lover's
sex we had this morning wasn't our first rodeo, ya know. It's not like we
take it for granted so much as it's more like something we've done before
and know we'll do again so we can be casually relaxed and comfortable with
one another now.

As I put each item of our brunch on the kitchen bar I describe it to Robby
as if he's never seen food like this before. I explain the home fries began
as unpeeled potatoes and how I manipulated them into being part of this
home fries concoction. Sitting at the kitchen bar with a grin on his face,
Robby plays along making comments like, "Omigod, and there are onions and a
green pepper fried along with the potatoes. How fucking clever can one
person be!" Seeing the quiche, Robby goes, "What on earth is that?" When
we're done our latest dog and pony act we eat everything, finishing a
little after one o'clock. We took our time knowing there's no rush because
there's nothing we absolutely need to do today.

Ya know, being so completely comfortable with another is no small
matter. It's something Rob and I don't consciously think about but being
totally comfortable with one another is actually an important part of being
happy and contented. It's impossible to overstate how much value I
personally put on feeling comfortable! There's a possibility Robby and I
being boyfriends and lovers living together most of the last three and a
half years at college our relationship could have turned into more of an
attachment for one another instead of actually being in love. Feeling an
attachment to one another from need, or because someone fills a void in
another's life, or an attachment for purposes of self-esteem happens to
some couples. Without realizing it, they're attached to one another for
those previously stated reasons while thinking it's the same thing as being
in love. It's not being in love though!

That hasn't happened to us, that attachment thing instead of being in love
as our morning of lover's sex proves. Lovers sex can't be faked and the
casual comfortableness we feel in each other's company can't be faked
either, so sure we do feel an attachment as we do fill a void in each
other's lives, and being Robby's boyfriend and lover certainly helps my
self-esteem but we're still in love too... that's first and foremost.

There's an emotional bond too and a feeling of being connected in addition
to being in love, or maybe that's inherent in any true love affair. We know
neither of us is going to humiliate, embarrass, or ridicule the other and
that comes down to trusting one another. Trust, yes! And we trust each
other even though we've had our unique long term 'arrangement' of side-sex
which most couples couldn't possibly make work. And we're our real selves
with each other too... no phoniness, intrigue, or hidden agendas. We're
almost an extension of each other you could say, and yeah, I think we have
extremely compatible pheromones too, which I'll bet most people aren't even
aware exist. So, for all those reasons we're in true love plus we get to be
comfortable with one another as well... that's not a frivolous thing at
all.

Of course, we also goof on each other and break each other's balls
sometimes, but only joking around. Okay, yeah, there are little irritants
too. Ya know, little things I wish Robby would or wouldn't do and I'm sure
he feels the same about me, but come on, there's gonna be some human-like
small differences no matter how deeply in love two people are. And why am I
thinking about all this stuff now? I don't fucking know, but I know it's
not just because yesterday I thought so highly of the afternoon I spent
with Danny and then Rob and I have epic lover's sex this morning. The
convergence of two things is what's known as a 'coincidence'. Still, that
coincidence proves to me again that the premium buddy-sex afternoon I had
with Danny ain't in the same stratosphere with the lover's sex I had this
morning with Robby. And, they're two totally different things.

After breakfast, we clean up the kitchen together which is an example of
one of those minor things I used to wish Robby would lighten up on. I mean,
the need to immediately clean up a mess when we're done with, um,
whatever. I've come to realize it makes ultimate sense to do that and I'm
now as big a stickler about that as he is. If we don't do it now, it's
hanging over our heads to be done later. So, what the fuck, do it now and
it's in our past. There are a couple of other little annoyances that I
can't think of right now but after more than five years together we've
compromised on tiny annoyances or we've simply learned to tolerate
them... we've never claimed to be perfect people.

While Robby's reading the Sunday paper I text Chubby and he tells me he's
doing okay. Not fully recovered from the nasty cold bug that's making its
way around the campus but he and John Beverly have recovered enough that
they're planning on going to classes tomorrow. As I'm texting with Chub,
Pony texts to ask what we're doing today and then Danny texts to ask if Rob
and I want to play basketball this afternoon. Yeah, if it's not sex, it's
sports in Danny's world. He texts that one of his friends got an okay from
the basketball head coach to use the basketball court this
afternoon. Four-man teams are forming for pickup games. I text back asking
him to text Robby about that. Danny's text back to me is one word, 'Okay''
and a few seconds later I hear Robby's phone ping.

For some reason, and I'm not sure exactly why, but I feel better that Robby
gets that text from Danny. I mean, we're still three of the four gay
friends from our summer's group, and we're supposed to stick together and
support one another. It's disturbing to me that Danny and Rob haven't been
all that friendly to one another lately. It's not like they don't like each
other, but they're sort of ignoring each other too much to suit me.

In the meantime, knowing Robby's gonna say 'yes' to playing basketball, I
text Pony to ask him if he wants to play. He texts back that he does, but
then Pony wants to do almost anything I'm doing. As I put my cell phone in
my pocket, Robby says, "Yo, babe, do you wanna play basketball this
afternoon? Danny's somehow got the okay to use the indoor basketball
court." I'm like, "Ya don't say. Yeah, that sounds good."

That's what we do, but we only get to play in two games because they are
too many teams, including three girls' teams. We spend most of the time
waiting around to get in a game. Winning teams stay on the court to play
the next team in line and a team of juniors is awesome and they never lose
a game the entire afternoon. That eliminated one of the basketball
half-courts and thereby cutting down on other team's chances to play. Tough
shit, ya know?

It's a long wait in between games for us but it's fun bull-shitting with
each other and commenting on some of the less talented players in the games
we're watching. As if we have any room to talk, but we do anyhow. Our team
is Danny, Rob, Pony, and me and we only win once. Pony is the weak
link... haha. Fortunately, there are basketball coaches refereeing which
keeps the yelling and complaining down to bearable levels, so it was a good
time.

Sunday night Carl and Pony have dinner with us. Carl wasn't on a team but
he was in the crowd watching. He asked for Rob's help writing a paper for a
class tomorrow and Pony heard Carl was having dinner with us so he gave me
his hurt puppy dog 'look' and I invited him too.

For dinner, I make spaghetti and meatballs with salad and Italian
bread. The meatballs I simmer in the sauce after browning them, but I
remembered to save some sauce on the side for Carl. Nobody wanted to drink
anything alcoholic before dinner, so that was good! It turns out fine with
Carl skipping the meatballs and making up for it by eating four rolls with
a quarter pound of butter... and he's skinny!

Robby's recovered from his mercy-mission back home and, consequently, he's
back to being his old horny self. I'm sure of that because when he gets
back from driving Carl and Pony to their dorms he fucks me on the sofa with
a Celtic/Knicks game on TV in the background. It's a hard and fast fun fuck
with plenty of lubricant this time. Rob's fat boner hurt for a while even
with the lube whereas this morning the hurt was barely a factor without
lube. Well, as I said... this morning was magical and doesn't happen too
often to that degree which makes the random occasions it does happen extra
special.

Then, after another good night's sleep, we aren't in the mood to do any
sexy messing around Monday morning. I don't mind because I never want us to
get to a point where we feel obligated to have sex on some kind of
schedule. Our sex is frequent and almost always spontaneous which means
every time we do it we really wanna do it. The main reason for skipping sex
this morning is Rob needs to meet with Coach Davis about Rob missing
upcoming practices and that's on Rob's mind big time.

He's apprehensive, or nervous, or both because missing practices the next
two Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays will not sit well with the coach. Rob
and I will be working in the Dickers & Son office and then assisting with
the care of his dad at home. Rob's concerned what the coach will say about
that, obviously, but it's not like Rob has a choice. I mean, he has to help
at home no matter what the coach says.

Yesterday I was proud of Robby for ignoring what must have been a strong
urge to visit the ballpark. He hasn't been there since last Wednesday which
is almost a week away from his other love, baseball, but he wanted to spend
the day with me. Him going that long without a baseball 'fix' is a rare
happening going back to freshman year. Official practice begins this week
and then Merrimack's baseball season runs from March right up to the week
before graduation. It's far from ideal playing baseball this time of the
year for teams in the Northeast, but they're used to the nasty weather and
the games must go on.

Getting dressed this morning I want to say something encouraging to Robby
except I can't think of anything encouraging to say. He's basically fucked
between a rock and a hard place. He needs to help his parents and the coach
needs the best team he can put together. Since everything I can think of to
say sounds trite, I do the best thing with the situation, which is saying
nothing. Rob's been quiet since we woke up and I'm following his lead.

In the kitchen, Rob makes a cup of coffee in the Keurig machine as I ask
him, "What would you like for breakfast?" He looks up as if he was so deep
in thought he forgot I was here. He says, "Oh, thanks, Dylan, but I'm not
hungry this morning." That's good enough for me. I take him at his word and
don't start suggesting breakfast foods as if Rob may have forgotten they
exist. His mom, with best but misguided intentions, would do that which
would result in Robby rudely snapping at her and then they'd both feel
bad. I don't do that...

When I've made my cup of coffee, I take a chance and say, "I can't imagine
what it would be, but if there is anything I can do to help, just ask. Do
you want me to drive you over there, or..."? He waves a hand while shaking
his head, saying, "Nah, you drive your car." I nod my head, saying, "Well,
yeah, I do need to drop off the Kia at Chub's dorm anyway. I'll walk down
to the ballpark after I do that and wait for you at the pickup. He goes,
"Yeah. It won't be a long talk because there isn't much to say. Dad's
accident is lousy timing, but what can I do?"

I could say dumb stuff trying to be encouraging like Rob's been a starter
on the team for two years and I'm sure the coach will understand and blah,
blah, blah, except I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe the coach
won't understand and Rob will get kicked off the team. How would I know?
Keeping my mouth shut is still the best way to go, so that's what I do. If
I was in Rob's position I'd want him to keep his mouth shut.

Yeah, in situations like this when you're feeling empathy for someone your
well-meaning attempts at expressing that can cause the person more anguish
because now they need to placate you in addition to dealing with their
problem. If it was some kind of problem I thought I could actually help
with, it'd be a totally different story... I'd jump in with both feet.

We leave the apartment together and I get in the Kia as Rob gets in the
pickup. We do a little hand wave at each other and then I follow Rob onto
the campus. At the first intersection, I turn left and he goes right. I'm
driving to the new dormitories where Chubby's dorm is and where he parks
the Kia Soul. The two new dormitories are not near the older dormitories
because there wasn't space there to build them. So, while dormitory row is
near the ballpark, the new dormitories are not.

In the parking lot, I realize it's too early to be knocking on Chub's door
so I text him where the car is parked and then take the long walk to the
ballpark's parking lot. As I walk I'm feeling bad for Robby who's probably
being lectured by the coach about missing a lot of practices the next
couple of weeks, but what can Rob do about it? Nothing, and if the coach
understands and excuses Rob from practice, great! If he doesn't then the
coach blows and sucks and I'll hate on him for the rest of my life. It's
that simple.

When I get to the pickup Rob's already there smoking a cigarette. I walk up
and he says, "Hi, babe." I go, "Whassup?" and he says, "Well, Coach Davis
was sympathetic but the bottom line is I need to win the job at shortstop
all over again. If the freshman phenom, who happens to be my fucking
mentee, beats me out for the starting shortstop job by impressing the
coaches during the practices I'm missing, so be it. If Carl doesn't impress
the coach enough to replace me, I'll still be the team's shortstop." I
mutter, "How magnanimous of Coach Davis to go out on a limb like that."

Rob makes a smug 'face' saying, "On the other hand, Coach Davis told me the
chances of Carl doing that are slim and none." Robby tries not to grin but
a big grin breaks out on his face anyway and he turns his head away. I
mutter, "Oh, that's better and, Christ, I hope I don't accidentally hit
Carl hard on his ankle with one of those aluminum baseball bats you've got
lying around the apartment," Robby laughs and says, "Before you do that,
let's see how the first two weeks of practice go... Carl might hit himself
in his ankle."

As we're getting in the truck, he says, "I'll tell you one thing, Dylan,
after next Saturday's meeting at the office as dad's replacement, and the
one after it, we'll be returning to college right after the meetings. We're
driving from the office right back here because I do not intend missing
Sundays' practices." I nod and say, "Good plan, Rob," and we drive
off. Omigod, I can feel his relief! Mine too as he asks, "What do you feel
like doing today, babe?"

Rob's got his appetite back so the first thing we do is drive to the
Pancake House restaurant for a big breakfast after which we drive to the
Salem Mall in New Hampshire, which is actually named the Rockingham
Mall. We're going to the mall because Robby's convinced he needs a new
current-model baseball glove. After parking, we go directly to Dick's
Sporting Goods superstore.

As I'm rolling my eyes, Rob examines every baseball glove in the
store. Most of them he tries on, punching it with his right-hand
fist. Initially, a salesclerk hovers around us with Rob ignoring him as if
he wasn't there. The guy who looks no older than twenty-five but is
unfortunately prematurely bald on top finally makes a huffy sound and
drifts away. After carefully eliminating all but three gloves, Robby
finally decides he won't buy any of them. As we're leaving the store he
tells me, "My glove is three years old but it's broken in so it's probably
best if I stick with it the rest of this year," which begs the
question... didn't he know that before we spent an hour and a half
examining every glove in the fucking store? I nod my head, muttering, "Uh
huh."

In the parking lot, Rob looks over at the big Rockingham Racetrack that's
visible from the mall. He looks at me and says excitedly, "I feel lucky
today, Dylan! Let's go bet on some harness races." Yeah, why not? Well,
after we both use the ATM machine at the racetrack and lose over a hundred
dollars each, there's the answer to the question of, why not? We had fun
though getting a little buzz on drinking draft beers between the races and
laughing our nuts off at the derelicts who you always see at a racetrack.

By the time we're back on campus most of the classes are finished for the
day and Rob wants to throw a ball around and do some running so he heads
down to the ballpark again. As he jogs off, I'm like, "Yo, Rob, don't
breathe on Coach Davis." He grins, giving me the 'finger'. I said that
because of Rob's beer breath, but as I watch him go I remember he told me
the coaches can't participate in team activities until official practices
begin on Wednesday. So, no problem.

I drive the few blocks to dormitory row where I park and text Pony, 'Do ya
wanna hang out?' No text back, but my phone rings ten seconds later and
Pony says, "Dylan, your text question is baffling considering every Monday
afternoon for as long as I can remember you and I either run at the track
and then work out... or, when the weather sucks we do something else, BUT
we ALWAYS do something Monday afternoons. So, getting this strange text
from you asking if I want to hang out is baffling."

Grinning as I sit in the pickup, I go, "Uh huh, anything else?" He goes,
"Yeah, I've been lying on my bed for the last hour wondering why you
haven't texted me and it's been quite stressful for me to think I've been
basically stood up!" I say, "Anything else?" He goes, "No, that's about
it," and I'm like, "Okay, I'll take that a, yes, you wanna hang out." He
snickers and says, "Well, yeah," and I ask, "Is your roommate there?" Pony
goes, "No. Donald and his two pot-head friends went into Boston an hour ago
to score some dope." I'm like, "I'll stop in your dorm and we can discuss
if this damp cold gray day qualifies as running weather or
'do-something-else' weather." He mutters, "That's cool."

Getting out of the pickup grinning to myself, 'cause I really like that
kid, I lock the truck and then on my way up dormitory row I see a flock of
five or six girls walking toward me. One of the girls, I'm not sure which
one, says, "Hiya, Dylan," and another one says, "I like your 'kicks"." I
smile, feeling my face get hot as I recognize the kinda cute boyish-looking
girl who's in my Ethics class. I can't remember her name, so I'm like,
"Hey, you! Are you ready for the Ethics test tomorrow."? She smiles and
says, "No, let's study for it together, Dylan." I'm past them now, saying
over my shoulder, "Oh, sure..." I said that sarcastically as if it were
absurd... like she'd never waste her time on someone lowly and undeserving
of her attention as myself. My kicks? I'm wearing LL Bean boots, not
sneakers.

Another one of the girls yells something back at me but I can't make it out
so I just wave back while continue walking forward. Whatever! I go inside
the dormitory where a guy with yellow hair says to me, "Hey, pal, you lost,
or what? Ya just can't walk into any fucking dorm you feel like." I mutter,
"Blow me," and breeze on by him. Yellow hair is a pipsqueak who I could
crush with one hand tied behind my back.

Pony's standing outside his door looking down the hall for me. He's in
stocking feet and when he sees me come out of the stairwell he gives me the
finger as he grins at me, asking, "What took you so long?" Christ, two of
my best buddies gave me the finger in a five minute period... haha!

Pony popped back in his room after flashing me the finger but he left the
door open. I go in closing the door behind me and, as I toss my hat on his
desk, I look around and then mumble, "This dorm room should be in House
Beautiful." He's got his hands in his pockets playing with himself, asking,
'What's that mean?" Taking my coat off, I shrug, "It's an interior
decorator magazine I saw someplace once. I forget where."

I take my ankle-high boots off with Pony closely watching me and then out
of the blue, he says, "You probably want to kiss me so, um, when you're
done doing that go ahead and get it over with." I chuckle and he goes, "No,
seriously, I'm probably gonna switch back to being 'straight' after this
semester so ya better get your kisses in while you can. You know, I'm
planning ahead because I wanna get a date next year for the senior prom." I
say, "There is no senior prom at college, numbnuts," and then I give his
sexy cute lips a quick kiss. He goes, "Hey! Do you call that a kiss?"

Snorting out a laugh, I take hold of his shoulders with both hands and do a
sloppy kiss for five seconds and then pat his cheek, mumbling, "You're
cute." He says, "I wish Max thought so." Flopping on Pony's neatly made
bed, I lie out full length on it, mumbling, "Who? Who's Max?" He sits on
his desk chair and, acting disgusted, says, "Max Kellerman's a new friend
in my junior class. I made a friend to please you and you can't even
remember his name." Nodding my head, I go, "Oh yeah. I wasn't sure which
Max you were referring to." He mutters, "Like we'd know more than one guy
named Max," and I go, "Hey! You told me he's straight so why would you care
if he thinks you're cute? And anyway, he made friends with you, not the
other way around."

Pony gets up and sits on the edge of the bed, saying, "I lied about lying
about that?" I'm like, "Huh?" and he touches my arm, asking, "Do you want
me to lie next to you?" I shrug, "If you want to." He tries not to grin as
he slides onto the bed next to me and I put my arm around him." He says, "I
knew you'd do that," and then he looks at my hair and goes, "Holy shit! I
love your new haircut. I'm asking Danny to cut my hair like that next
Saturday." I go, "What about your father and that con job you did on him
with all the flattop haircut bullshit?" He says, "That ran its course
months ago. Mom and dad are used to seeing me with the flattop now. I need
something new to con them with so they'll still love me." I laugh again,
and then ask, "Whaddaya wanna do?" He mutters, "Guess!"

He gets off the bed and rummages in the bottom drawer of his small bureau,
everything neatly in place on top of it. Finally, from far in the back of
the drawer he comes out with a brand new tube of KY Jelly. Getting back in
bed, his face blushing, he says, "I just wanted to show you this." I look
at it, and then look at him, asking, "What is it?" He rubs the back of his
fingers over my head, saying, "I like how that feels. What's this haircut
called?" I go, "Danny calls it a crewcut and I think he's right." Pony nods
his head, mumbling, "Crewcut, huh? I like the way you can comb the hair
over to the side a little in front." I'm like, "Give me the KY lube." He
hands it to me and lifts his head up so we can kiss.

He's not an amateur make-out partner nowadays. He's gotten good, not great
but definitely more experienced than last year and as far as I know, his
experience is one-hundred percent with me. That's kinda obvious because he
does things with his tongue that I do. I do it without thinking about it
but I notice now that Pony's doing it too. His glasses get cockeyed as he's
trying to get on top of me so we take a time-out and he puts his glasses on
the bedside table and then drops down on top of me again.

What we get into can only be called sexy-wrestling. Wrestling while mostly
keeping our mouths attached continuing to make out. It's a unique way of
wrestling, and not easy either. I haven't noticed any of the wrestlers on
Merrimack's wrestling team doing it like this but, on the other hand, I've
only been to one wrestling match my whole life, which isn't much of a
sample size, so...

The other thing is, I've had zero sex since yesterday. That was with Rob,
of course, and now it's after four o'clock the next day so I'm up for this,
plus I really like the novelty of 'topping', which is what I'll be doing
shortly. Complicating matters though, we both still have our hoodie
sweatshirts and skinny jeans on. Also, Pony is definitely not a weakling so
it's a bit of a struggle but, when our mouths pull apart I manage to get
him on his stomach and then pull his jeans and underpants down to just
below his nice pinkish/white and totally hairless firm butt cheeks. He's
breathing deeply from his exuberant exertion but finally gasps out,
"Getting me on my stomach did not need to take you this fucking long? For
Christ sake, I've been trying to get on my stomach for the last three
minutes."

I snort out a laugh and mutter, "Oh, I misunderstood. I was pulling left
and you were trying to go right." I'm looking on the bed for the tube of
lube that I dropped five minutes ago. Pony reaches under him and pulls out
the tube, asking sarcastically, "Looking for this?" He holds it back to me,
adding, "You'd make a terrible rapist, Dylan." I smack his bare ass,
"SMACK!" Chuckling, I mumble, "I guess so since it took me five minutes to
get you on your stomach with both of us trying to do it." He snickers and
says, "That one smack on my ass better not be the only spanking I'm
getting. Remember what a wise-ass I've been to you since you got here? I've
been naughty." I have to laugh again because he said that so seriously.

He's on his stomach, sort of, with his knees holding his ass up off the
mattress and thereby making it very easy for me to spank it. Wrestling is a
fun activity, especially on a bed as opposed to a hard wrestling mat or the
ground, and obviously, it would have been much better without wearing all
these clothes. Make the best of a situation though... that's what I always
say. That's gonna be rule number 749 in the sex book I'm gonna write
called, 'Gay Sex for Idiots'. That rule will appear in the chapter
subtitled, 'There's no catching or throwing a ball, so even the most
unathletic individual imaginable can participate in naked wrestling'.

Pony couldn't possibly be more obvious that he wants his ass spanked, so I
spank him with loud "SMACK!SMACK!SMACK!" sounds ringing out until he gets
both hands back trying to cover his rosy red butt cheeks while giggling and
whining at the same time, yelling, "Stop, stop! Ow, ow! No, don't stop!"
I'm happy to stop though because my hand is stinging. Pony apparently
hasn't considered that his fellow dorm-mates walking in the hall can hear
his yelling. That's odd considering he's supposedly deep in the gay
'closet'. Where'd that term 'in the closet' come from anyway?

Pony rubs his ass, muttering, "Oooh, that felt good." I'm still shaking my
stinging hand as Pony mutters. "Omigod, I can't believe how hard my dick
is." I' have to chuckle remembering when I was deeper into the dominance
part of sub/dom sex myself, meaning the more dominant a 'top' was the more
I got 'off' on it.

As I'm twisting the cap off the KY Jelly I'mgrinning at Pony who is still
on his stomach pushing his bare ass up and still rubbing it while looking
back at me. He says, "That was a damn good spanking, Dylan, so why can't
you do it that good every time." I mutter, "Because I don't want to. Maybe
Max is into inflicting pain." He's got his face in the pillow now as he
mutters, "Yeah, he did hit me with that snowball, hmm..."

After squeezing out some slippery jelly I push some of it up his ass,
saying, "I see you're still maintaining a hairless asshole." He turns his
head back to look back at me again, saying, "Of course, don't all gay guys
do that?" I mutter, "Um, no!" He goes, "I can't imagine why not. I mean, I
use Nair for Men. That's the brand name."

My dick is firm from our wrestling match so I need to be careful pulling it
out past the zipper on my jeans. My dick is not a boner though, so when
Pony's ass is sufficiently slippery, I use Danny's and Robby's
slippery-hand jerk-off method to finish getting a wicked hard boner, and
damn does that feels good! It feels especially good to me since I don't
jerk off. I'm the one guy in ten thousand who can say that honestly. Most
guys probably should not try... NOT jerking off, not unless they're getting
steady sex either anally or some other less attractive way.

In any case, I gotta admit I'm pretty anxious to feel my boner tightly
encased in the sheath commonly known as a rectum. In this case, the rectum
belonging to this attractive young man, Daryl Ponti. While guiding the head
of my boner to Pony's tiny, tight-looking asshole I wonder about the first
caveman who tried doing this. Seeing the tight anus he must have thought,
'No fucking way!' He was probably the dominant caveman in the tribe though,
so he wouldn't want to look stupid although how smart could a caveman be?
Be that as it may, one of them finally said, 'Fuck it!' and forced his
caveman- cock into his secret best caveman buddy's ass getting a nice
surprise when his clueless sex buddy's ass opened up for him. I can almost
hear his grunts of excitement, "Oup, gigonna garrrr!" as his boner
disappeared up clueless's ass. Or possibly it was a female cave-persons'
ass, although I'm not sure what their PC rules were way back then. Maybe
they'd think of it as a cave-cunt's ass. Who knows 'cause aside from some
pictures scratched on the wall of some cave, there are no written records
from back then, and certainly none about that first anal fuck.

I go, "Ahh!" as the hard head of my boner slides tightly in past Pony's
anal ring of muscle known by some as the sphincter muscle. Christ, that
feels good! My jaw is clenched as I slowly push my cock up his tight
rectum. Omigod, it's so tight the friction on all the nerve endings in my
cock the head is literally buzzing with fabulous pleasure vibrations, and I
mean right off the bat.

Yeah, that's a definite advantage of 'topping'. It's like, 'Pain? What
pain?' I mean, for me. Pony's body is tight so he's probably feeling some
pain from his stretched anus but I've got a good sized cock for fucking so
it won't hurt him for long. Actually, it takes a concerted effort on my
part to remember Pony is experiencing some pain. I don't wanna be that
guy... the crude, insensitive 'top' who figures, 'Fuck him, he'll get over
it,' and just start banging away, so I stop to give his rectum some time to
get the message and loosen up a little.

I know what it's like down there but, oh boy, my dick feels good! I don't
do this often so it's still fascinating to watch my boner disappear up
Pony's ass. He seems okay now so I finish the trip up his ass and shudder
when I'm fully impaling him. Oooh, man! I press my hairless groin against
his hairless buttocks and shudder again. Holy shit, this feels good, but so
different too. Different than the way it feels 'good' on the
'bottom'... very different. Pony grunts, "Go ahead and fuck me hard,
Dylan." That doesn't necessarily mean he's pain-free so I don't know,
should I believe him? Figuring why not believe him, I pull back my cock,
biting my bottom lip and making a 'face' at the awesome vibrations coming
off this hard penis of mine.

Pony pushes his ass up some more looking back and saying, "It feels really
good." Ah, that's what I wanted to hear and I thrust my hard boner back up
his ass and do it three more times and I mean all six-inches in and back
three times hard and fast but then, fuck, I need to stop because I almost
lost my load already. Collecting my wits about me, letting my initial urges
calm down, I get going again and my hips become rhythmic creating nice
steady 'Slap, slap, slap," sounds with everything feeling so good I can't
help but grin at how well this is going.

Pretty quickly my grin fades as the sensations build and all my attention
is on the feelings coming off my hard dick. I thrust harder and faster
without even planning to and the sounds of me smacking into Pony's ass are
getting louder, the slapping sounds ringing out in my ears like
applause. My boner is wicked hard and shiny, sparkling with lubricant as it
appears and disappears up Pony's ass with Pony moaning and squirming on the
bed, his face buried in the pillow, his moans partially muffled.

"SLAPSLAPSLAP," sounds and by now most thoughts of whatever is going on
with Pony are distant ones to me because the glorious sensations of
pleasure soaring off my cock flood my brain as I'm fixated by the sight of
my boner coming out and going up that very tight male ass and the
sensations of pleasure I'm feeling from my awesomely hard penis.. I can't
think about anything else. It's like I'm almost pissed off at that ass as I
ram my boner in it harder and faster with this sense of dominance growing
very strong now, plus there's the transgressive nature of fucking a guy's
ass that increases the sense of dominance and anyone who says they don't
feel it is either dim-witted or just plain dumb... or lying.

I've never had sex with a female but it would be impossible for a vagina to
be tighter than this rectum I'm fucking. Every nerve ending on my penis is
stimulated by the friction off the tight walls of his ass both going in and
coming out. From the head to the root of my boner nerve endings sparkle
with pleasure vibrations and, as my climax is now approaching quickly, I
can't stop myself from ramming my cock up his ass so hard it moves him
forward an inch with each thrust until the top of his head is bouncing
against the headboard.

Pony blows his load first, his hips bucking and him moaning into the
pillow. He drops his ass to lie in his own cum as I'm now humping against
his firm buttocks firing cum inside him with an explosion of sensations
spreading out around my groin going high up inside my thighs... almost an
aching sensation but mostly it's a ton of serious fucking pleasure that's
so intense I hesitate for two seconds before humping against his ass again
shooting more cum up there. The thought of squealing never entered my
mind. It's different on 'top'.

AS the shocking experience of climaxing quickly begins fading I feel shaky
with sensations still buzzing around my cock and balls, and then my toes
curl so tightly I almost get a cramp.  Not trusting my voice right now, I
shudder and then take a deep breath, thinking, 'I wanna do this again'. I
have no idea how long that fuck lasted, but it didn't seem like it was very
long. I take another deep breath and then, trying to be cool about it, I
ask, "You okay, Pony?" and immediately I take another silent deep breath
thinking again... Holy shit, that felt good!

Pulling my cock from his ass, I make a 'face' concentrating on not moaning
although I'd like to. Wow! Getting get off the bed I look for a box of
tissue or something to wipe my dick with. Pony's lying flat on the bed, the
side of his head on the pillow as he grins at me, saying, "Yeah, I'm
okay. That was good. I blew off in like a minute." A minute? What the fuck?
I thought it was longer than that. Trying for blasé, I mumble,
"Well, I hope it did feel good," and then realize I just fished for a
compliment. Dammit!

After a couple of seconds, he says, "It felt great actually. When can you
do it again?" I mutter, "Soon, but I need a cigarette now," and then I spot
a box of tissues on the bureau behind a photograph of a good looking black
girl. Pulling out some tissues, I point as the photo, asking, "Donald's
girlfriend?" and Pony goes, "Duh, how'd you guess?"

Giving him a middle finger salute, I toss him the square box of Kleenex. He
takes some out and holds the wad at his asshole. As I'm putting my dick
away and pulling up my zipper, I ask, "So, you gonna come outside with me
for a smoke?" He shrugs as he wipes the cum off his ass and then as I'm
putting my boots, coats, and hats on, I'm thinking... 'there's a helluva
lot to be said for 'topping'. Pony goes, "Wait for me." as he's getting off
the bed. I watch him get his pants up, put on sneakers that he always
leaves loosely tied, then his coat.

Outside Pony pretends to smoke one of my cigarettes, saying, "I'm thinking
of giving this habit up," and I laugh but don't say the obvious, which is
he never inhales so he never took the habit up in the first place. As we
smoke, we walk to the Quad and inside have Cokes and slices of peach pie
that suck, but we eat the pie anyway.

After talking with two nerds who are in one of my classes, Pony and I go
back to his room where I fuck him doggy style. This time with my pants down
to my knees and Pony totally bare ass naked. It wasn't a one-minute fuck
either, which I still contend the first one wasn't. This one lasts a good
five minutes and I get dizzy with sexual pleasure from my really hot second
climax. Oh man! That was a damn good use of my time, that hour with Pony.

We're cleaning ourselves up a little, and then Pony tries to clean his cum
off the bedspread claiming Donald will get pissed at him if there's a
stain. Good luck with that. He finally decides he'll take the bedspread to
the basement washing machines later but for now he wraps it in a ball and
then forces it under his bed. Done with that, he asks me if he should throw
a hint to Max that he's gay to see if Max takes the bait. As I say, "Well,
I don't know this kid, Pony, so how the hell can I know what to suggest?" I
hear a ping on my phone. Pony goes, "Take a guess." I see Rob's text that
he's ready to go any time I am.

Pony and I get our coats and hats on again and he walks with me to the
pickup where I tell him, "Listen, let me meet this guy, Max, before you try
enticing him, okay? Some guys are obviously straight and if I detect that
in Max, well you don't want to fuck up a bowling buddy, right?" He nods and
then, says, "Yeah, thanks. Um, you and I should be doing buddy sex a lot
more than we do it. Don't ya think?" Nodding my head, I mumble, "Oh yeah,
of course, but our schedules and, you know..." He says, "Well, can we do it
more than once a week at least?" I go, "Absolutely!"

At the pickup, we do a normal quick bro-hug, mumbling, "See ya tomorrow,"
and I get in the truck. As I'm driving away I'm thinking... that was good
buddy sex although nothing like the buddy sex I have with Danny. And, there
are a number of reasons that Danny's and my buddy sex is at an entirely
different level. Yeah, but there are complications with Danny and none with
Pony... so there's that.

Anyway, I don't mean to take anything away from the fact Pony's a damn good
buddy-sex buddy. Yeah, that sex we just had was like the poster child for
buddy sex, that's what that was...

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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