Date: Fri, 30 Aug 2019 17:10:35 +0000 (UTC)
From: Bill <mgtbill@aol.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter 60 The Final Days

   DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter 60

    The Final Days

by Donny Mumford


Even after an extraordinary and totally unexpected experience with Willie,
my mind is right back on my man Rob. Sure, it was a cool trip down memory
lane with Willie this afternoon and I'm glad it happened for both of us,
but now I'm anxious to return to planet earth... and reality. Robby is my
reality.

Me rushing to the ballpark sitting on this hard bleacher seat is showing a
little bit of my dedication to Rob 'cause I wouldn't be here if he
wasn't. Oh, lucky me... Robby's coming up to bat right now. Glancing at the
scoreboard, oh jeez it's the bottom of the ninth already and I just got
here. Yeah, but Robby won't know that.

Okay, I need to my mind get into the game. Rob's batting in a tie ballgame,
bottom of the ninth with two outs. Well, the worst that can happen is he
makes an 'out' and the game goes into extra innings. Yeah, but I'm hoping
for a storybook ending with Robby winning the game by hitting a home
run... the one he promised to hit for me. Maybe he'll even point to where
he'll hit it... heh heh, wouldn't that be the ultimate corny ending... to
the game, I mean.

Here comes the pitch, and it's ball one. Robby steps out of the batter's
box and takes a couple of swings, maybe to relieve the tension he must be
feeling. Nah, I'll bet he's loving the 'moment'.

As for me, I'm in a weird frame of mind right now. In one way I'm almost
giddy after being fucked so well by my all-time puppy-love-boyfriend from a
distant lifetime. And, as I said, it was a trip down memory lane... most
likely the last one ever with Willie and it took a couple of mind-blowing
coincidences for that to even happen. One, the highly unlikely event Willie
was home from college and, two, me driving by his house the first time in
two years!

Yeah, well, I don't know why I'm surprised those two unlikely coincidences
happened because I entered Willie's world when I drove by his
house. Entering Willie's world is the equivalent of me stepping through the
proverbial looking glass where strange and unlikely things have always
happened to me. I do sincerely wish Willie happiness but his 'world' is too
crazily zany for me now. I've matured too much to appreciate the
unpredictability of Willie. I hope I see him again sometime, um, when he's
grown up a little more, but I think we had our buddy sex swansong today.

Oh, here we go, Rob's back in the batter's box and, as crazy as it sounds,
I'm actually expecting him to hit a home run. Why not one more bizarre
coincidence today? Someone pats my shoulder and, looking up I see it's
Pony, who asks, "Where ya been, Dylan?" I tell him something vague about
interviewing for a job. He goes, "Oh, a job," and he sits right next to me
leaning against me. Shrugging him off, I'm like, "Stop it! I'm
concentrating on the game." Pony says, "Oh, is that Rob batting now?" I
mutter, "Uh huh," and Pony says, "He hit a home run in the fourth inning to
tie the score. Neither team has scored since then so it's been boring!" I
mutter, "I missed it then," and he's like, "Missed what?" I nod at the
game, mumbling, "Hey, no more questions, I'm watching this." Robby swings
and fouls the ball off as Pony says, "Donald will be out of the dorm..." I
go "Shh," and he tugs on my arm, and goes, "Let's walk back to my dorm
'cause, as I just told you..."

Omigod... Robby just hit a towering fly toward the right-field wall!

I stand up along with everybody else in the bleachers. We're all watching
the flight of the ball going high and deep and... and the ball smacks the
wall a foot short of going over. It hit the wall so hard though it zips
right past the right fielder's frantic stab at it, the ball just tipping
the top of his glove. Rob's rounding second base looking over his shoulder
at the right fielder who's just caught up with the ball but stumbles a
little trying to pick it up. Rounding third base and heading for home
Robby's running like his ass in on fire as the right fielder throws the
ball on a line to the second baseman who's waiting for it on the outfield
grass. "Whack", the ball hits the second baseman's glove and in one motion
he turns and throws a bullet to the catcher.

The ball and Robby arrive at the same time, the ball hitting the catcher's
glove as Rob collides with him. The umpire makes the safe sign,
bellowing... "SAFE!" ...and that, my friends, is what's called an inside
the park home run. Huh, I'm not sure if that counts as hitting a home run
for me though. Or, maybe it does, but it sure as shit is not the same as
hitting it out of the ballpark.

There normally would be an argument after a close play like that at 'home'
plate, but the catcher never tagged Rob with his glove. Robby's body hit
the catcher's legs and he went up in the air, so I suppose the catcher was
mostly thinking about not breaking his neck when he landed. Anyway, there's
no argument as the Merrimack players run out of the dugout and swarm around
Robby. Jeez, there's something extra exciting about a 'walk-off' home run,
and an inside-the-park home run makes it an 'effing super-rare combination
of rare events.

Lots of clapping and noise from the peanut gallery and lots of dusty dirt
flying around so I can't see exactly what's happening at home plate, but it
looks to me like Robby's not getting up. He's just lying there. The catcher
is up hopping on one foot and being helped by two players, and now our
team's trainer and the coach are running out. Oh, fuck...

Rob's got some sort of injury and the celebrating stops as the Coach and
trainer both kneel around Rob. After a minute, Rob sits up but doesn't
stand up. Oh man, another injured Dickers... I swear, that family has
more... Oh, Rob's being helped up now and he's hobbling toward the dugout
with his arm across the trainer's shoulders. Damn, that takes the shine off
a shining moment... hopefully it's nothing serious.

Pony tugs on my arm again, asking, "Do ya, Dylan?" Annoyed, I'm like, "Do I
what?" He goes, "Do ya wanna take a walk with me to my dorm? Donald's not
there and he said he won't be back until after dinner." I ask, "Didn't you
see what just happened?" He looks out at the now empty baseball diamond and
goes, "The collision at home plate, you mean? Did we win?"

I stand up to get out of the way of people who are heading for the
exit. Most of them happy and some still clapping as they're going out the
same gate, I came through ten minutes ago. I mutter, "Yes, we won, but Rob
got hurt." Pony goes, "Well, do you wanna go to my dorm and, you know...?"
I can't help but snort out a laugh, and then says, "No, Mr. Sensitive! I
need to find out if Rob's okay."

We join the crowd filing out the gate as Pony asks, "How ya gonna do that?"
Good question. Well, I'll text Carl and ask him. Outside the ballpark, we
sit on the low brick wall as I text Carl asking if he knows what's up with
Rob. No sense wasting my time texting Danny because he's likely goofing
around jock-fashion with teammates celebrating the win whereas Carl will be
concerned about Rob.

No reply from Carl and I realize, duh, he doesn't have his cell phone in
his uniform. Pony says, "What are you gonna do now? Couldn't we wait for
Carl to text you at my dorm?" I snort out another laugh, and then ask, "How
old are you?" He frowns, "Whaddaya mean?" I go, "I'll bet you were that guy
as a kid who continually asked 'Are we there yet?' during trips with your
family... weren't you?" He goes, "Don't be mean to me, Dylan. It hurts my
feelings." I get off the brick wall and give his shoulders a hug, mumbling,
"I'm sorry Pony. What I'm going to do now is wait here for Robby, or one of
his teammates and find out what's up with his injury." He goes, "Can I hang
out with you?" I go, "Of course, you can. I want you to," and he asks, "Can
I bum a smoke off you?" Haha!

We smoke and kid around a little, and then I take his glasses off and clean
them with my impeccably clean handkerchief. As I do that, I'm mumbling,
"How come you never clean your glasses? You can't possibly see through
these smudges." He goes, "Why should I clean them when you're always doing
it for me?" I mutter, "Good point," and then hand his glasses back to
him. Pony puts his glasses on, mumbling, "Thanks, Dylan."

Jeez, ya know what? And I've had this thought before... I wish I had a
little brother to take care of! That would be so much fun. I look at Pony
and then rub his flattop haircut, knocking his hat off as he grins,
hunching his shoulders. I pick up his hat and plop it back on his
head. He's cute but, for obvious reasons, I'm not the least bit
horny. Going to Pony's dorm even if Rob hadn't gotten hurt wouldn't have
the appeal for me it normally would, and Pony seems okay with just hanging
out while he's pretending to smoke the millionth cigarette he's bummed off
me.

It's not too long before I see players begin drifting out in twos and
threes although I don't know any of them well enough to asks about Rob. Oh,
good, here comes Carl talking with a couple of young-looking freshmen. I
call and then wave him over, but before I can ask about Rob, Carl's
excitedly asking if I saw him in the game? I tell him I was late getting
here and then he goes on to explain, still excited, about him replacing the
injured second baseman in the third inning. He goes, "It's not my normal
position as you know, Dylan, but I played second base in a game earlier
this season and I've been playing the position a lot at practice to
increase my chances of getting in a game."

Oh yeah, I recall hearing about Carl being the second baseman recently when
a double-play ball went right between his legs costing the team the game,
but I don't mention that, as he's saying, "My first at-bat I hit a triple!"
I pat his back, "Awesome! It doesn't surprise me though, Carl, 'cause Rob
says you're a helluva hitter!" He's beaming, asking Pony, "Did ya see that
triple I hit?" Pony goes, "I don't remember," and then he blows smoke in
Carl's face. I guess Pony's jealous I'm paying attention to Carl.

I gotta say though, Carl's looking cute and he seems to be getting
younger-looking and more innocent by the minute. I give a quick thought
back to the opportunity he presented me months ago to 'take his
cherry'. Damn, I regret for about the tenth time I didn't follow up on
that. When Carl's done talking about his highlight moment, I ask about
Rob. He looks blank, saying, "I wasn't in the trainer's room." He doesn't
know what happened either, and he hasn't checked his cell phone yet so he
didn't see my text. One of the two freshmen he came out of the locker room
with, the one with his ears comically sticking straight out under his
baseball cap, yells, "C' mon, Carl, let's go! What the fuck...?" and they
walk off as Carl mumbles, "I hope Rob's okay," and then he runs to catch up
with his friends.

Then I see Danny over by the door yucking it up with four guys, one of whom
looks more like a linebacker on the football team than a baseball
player. Pony and I wander in that direction and Danny sees us and then I
hear him tell one of the guys he's with, "Yeah, I'll check with you later,
Booger, maybe I'll join you guys tonight. I gotta talk to my main man
here," as he points at me and then walks toward us.

We meet in front of the exit gate and do a regular guy's hug as Danny's
saying, "Rob fucked up his groin, but it's nothing serious. What are you
and Rob doing tonight? Did ya see the game?" I'm like, "Um, no, just the
end when Rob..." Danny touches my chest, grinning as he interrupts me,
saying, "Yo, Dylan, everybody's talking about that fucking catch I made in
the sixth inning that saved two runs from scoring. Holy shit it was
awesome! It was an over my fucking shoulder catch with me running my ass
off full tilt. Coach McMurphy said some major league ballplayers couldn't
have made that catch," and then he tries tipping Pony's hat off, asking?
"Hey, dweeb, did ya see that catch I made?" Pony leans his head back
frowning as he mutters, "Was that you? Yeah, I saw it. Nice catch."

I'm like, "You say Rob fucked his groin up? What's that mean?" Ignoring my
question, Danny flicks my bangs over to the side of my forehead with his
fingers, saying, "I'm telling you, these bangs look ridiculous with your
crewcut! They should be much shorter. Goddammit, I told you that when I
gave you the haircut... didn't I?" I shrug, "Yeah, um, I don't
remember. You're right though, but what about Rob?" He goes, "Yeah, he
fucked up his groin. That's what I heard, but how about his inside the park
home run? His second fucking home run of the game, and a 'walk-off' home
run at that. Well, haha, he didn't walk off so much as he hobbled off, but
you know what I meant," and then I see Robby walking carefully through the
gate leaning on a black guy, both of them laughing about
something. Laughter's a good sign.

With Danny and Pony following me, I go over to Rob as he's saying to the
black guy, "Thanks, Martin. My roommate can take over now." They slap hands
as Martin goes, "That's cool. Hey, busted groin or not, a walk-off
inside-the-park home run is a hell of a way to top off your college career,
dude." Robby goes, "I don't know about that," and then he puts his arm
across my shoulders and sort of hops on his right foot getting closer to
me, mumbling, "My baseball career is over Dylan," and he adds, "Boo-hoo,
poor me." I say, "I'm sorry Rob," and he gets right up against me, leaning
on me, mumbling, "Fuck it! There are only two games left and right now I'm
mostly feeling pain, plus the team's not even close to making the 'effing
playoffs." Wow, an unexpected sensible attitude from Robby. Yeah, but the
next game is Monday so it remains to be seen how cavalier he'll be tomorrow
about missing the last two games.

Pony is right next to me so Robby goes, "Make yourself useful, Pony," and
he grabs Pony's shirt pulling him over so he can put his other arm across
Pony's shoulders. Danny pats Rob's back, saying, "Rub some dirt on it, Rob,
suck it up! I'll see you guys a little later." I go, "See ya, Danny," as
Rob mutters, "Rub some dirt up your ass," and we slowly walk taking baby
steps toward the pickup with me explaining, "I'll drive us to the apartment
in the pickup and then text Chubby where I parked the Kia." Rob goes, "It's
the inside of my left thigh that's bitchin' sore!" I'm like, "Jeez..."

Yeah, well, as I said, just another Dickers' injury. Pony says, "Hey, I'll
drive your funny green car over to your brother's dorm, Dylan." I chuckle,
mumbling, "No, you won't, but thanks for offering."

After we get Rob in the pickup, Pony and I do a quick hug and promise to
get together soon and, with Robby grimacing the whole way, I drive us to
the apartment. He leans heavily on me as we slowly go inside the building
and up the stairs with Rob grunting and muttering a few curse words under
his breath. Inside our apartment he collapses on the sofa, telling me, "The
trainer says I probably have a grade 1 tear of one or more adductor muscles
inside my left leg, or my thigh actually. That's where the pain is coming
from for sure." I'm like, "That blows," and Rob's like, "Oh fuck, can you
pull my pants off for me, babe. Martin helped me get my jeans on, but now I
wanna see what's up with my leg. It's swollen like a motherfucker, um, near
my crotch..." I lift his leg and he yells, "Ow! Fuck! Don't pull it to the
side!" Taking my hand away, I ask, "What's an adductor muscle?" Rob shrugs,
"I don't know. It's sort of a groin thing I guess. It has something to do
with moving my legs together or apart, ah... I don't know. The trainer was
saying a lot of things but I wasn't paying much attention... 'cause I was
in fucking pain!"

Nodding my head sympathetically, I ask, "Did you happen to hear him tell
you what to do about it?" He gives me a grin, muttering, "Sorry I'm being a
pussy about this, but it fucking hurts. Um, the Coach said, ah... oh yeah,
I need to ice it because there's swelling and, of course, stay off it as
much as possible. I think he said to elevate it too and something about
compression, or some such shit. Goddamn my bad luck, ya know? I can't even
finish the season with my teammates! This is the worst kind of
bad-fucking-luck!" So much for his sensible attitude, which lasted all of
ten minutes. I say, "I suppose running would be out of the question," and
he goes, "Haha, yeah it would! I'm not supposed to go square dancing
either."

When we plan how to do it without moving the leg too much, I carefully pull
his jeans off and then put an icepack, in this case, ice wrapped in a tea
towel, on the swelling near his crotch and then put one of the sofa
cushions on the coffee table so his foot can rest on that, thereby
elevating his leg. When I get all that done, he goes, "Thanks, babe." I
ask, "How's it feel now?" He shrugs, "I don't know, um, it's sort of a
throbbing dull ache, but that ice pack is freezing my nuts. Can you get
something, ah...."? Rolling my eyes, I get a hand towel from the bathroom
to put between his boxer shorts and the icepack, and then ask, "Would you
like a blow job too, Sir?" He laughs and asks, "What's for dinner," and
then he goes, "Oh, fuck. Dylan! Can you forgive me? Jesus, I can't believe
I forgot to ask how your lunch with the Rider twins turned out. How'd it
go, babe?"

Sitting next to him on the sofa I tell him as much as I can remember about
the interview, but it's not so simple because of the many esoteric words
and terms used relating to the twins' business, ones I can't remember. So I
don't accurately get across how confusing the interview was for me but Rob
gets the main point, which is... the position the Rider twins had in mind
for me is an ill-suited one. At this point in my life, it is for sure.

Rob isn't gloating when he says, "Well, it's for the best, right Dylan? Um,
no need to tell my dad about all that stuff you didn't understand. If he
asks, say it went very well and you're thinking about it. You and I will
follow up with the one or two cursory HR interviews, just to play their
silly HR game, and then we'll see what management trainee spot, and what
compensation they're offering you, um, and me too but I'm already pretty
sure what I'll be getting 'cause dad let it slip some weeks ago. I mean the
compensation, not the exact job. And if I don't like what they're offering
you, I'll take care of it. I want you working for me."

Hmm, yeah, that sounded slightly, I don't know... obnoxious maybe. The way
Rob said that I mean, but he's in pain. Anyway, I'm feeling good about
working for Dickers & Son where I'm familiar with the surroundings and know
some of the people. Robby grimaces as he tries moving his foot on the
pillow and then says, "The new Falmouth office is where I'll probably end
up and I can't imagine dad would expect me to run that office without you
working there too." I hesitate to ask why he's ignoring the Westborough
condo he spent his life savings on for the down payment last year. He'll
need to deal with the condo somehow because we can't be paying for two
places. I trust Rob to handle shit like that though.

Ya know what? I've got to stop taking Robby's conscientiousness for
granted. I can't imagine me dealing with the necessary, um,
responsibilities of us being young adults and the boring details of
planning ahead for what we need to do in order to, I don't know, take care
of ourselves I guess... be productive members of society or some such
bullshit like that. There are so many things to think ahead about, little
things too, like the other day Rob asking if I'd take the pickup to the
Sunoco station to get the yearly inspection sticker. A simple little detail
like that would never enter my mind. I'd be getting tickets from cops every
year... that's how I'd remember to do it.

There are many more important 'details' than that one that I depend on Rob
to remember. Things like deciding what we need to do about ending the lease
on this college apartment, for example, or when we're going back home, and
when we'll leave home and where we'll live after that. My brain isn't wired
to anticipate the many details that need to be considered every day. I
leave that up to Robby and only bitch about something when it's
inconvenient for me. I'm flighty and I worry more about ogling a cute guy
or my hair than what time we need to be somewhere, never mind what time we
need to start getting ready so we're there on time. Ah, fuck, I can't even
give good examples because I'm not fixated on tomorrow or next week or next
year like Robby is.

Christ, without Robby I'd be like unpredictable-Willie floating from one
immature pleasure to another. Yeah, except I'd need to do it without the
unlimited funds he has, and that wouldn't work out very well for me. It's
alarming to be almost twenty-three and realize I'm sort of irresponsible,
not intentionally, but compared to Robby I am. I need him and it's
fortunate that I love him too.

Looking at him I see he's making a 'face' trying to get his leg comfortable
as I'm still on the sofa sitting next to him thinking, he's my man and how
lucky I am to have him on my side. I smile at him and he smiles back and
then he puts his arm across my shoulders pulling me against his side for a
sweet moment. He says, "It's exciting to think in a mere ten days we'll be
starting our life together in the real world, huh babe?" I nod and snuggle
against him as he yells, "OW! Fuck, don't move my fucking leg, alright?
Jesus! What's wrong with you?" Well, so much for the sweet moment, but he's
still my man...

We don't go out tonight because Rob can't walk and, anyway, he's wicked
tired. Pain tires a person out. That's what I've heard but not being an
injury-prone individual myself, like some people, I couldn't say first hand
if that's true or not. I've decided I'll tell Rob about Las Vegas
tomorrow. Too much going on at the moment.

But I try to be responsible! And in some areas, I am responsible like
planning our meals and having the food and other essentials on hand we'll
need. We never run out Advil, toothpaste, toilet paper, and all those sorts
of things, for example. Small thing perhaps, but I am on top of shit like
that. So, yeah, I can plan ahead in some areas and, hell, maybe Rob takes
me for granted a little too. I'm not a complete airhead and I don't think
it's cool being one either, not the way some guys think it is.

After an easy dinner of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, we watch TV
with me changing the ice pack for Rob's, um, groin injury every
half-hour. Then Rob wants to get to bed... good idea. I get him settled in
bed, we kiss and then he tries to hug me but that somehow puts a strain on
one of his fucked-up adductor muscles and the hug again ends with, "OW!
Fuck!" But it's the thought that counts, ya know?

Closing the bedroom door, I sit at the kitchen bar and think about
yesterday and then that somehow makes me think about Ryan. I get the
strongest urge to call Ryan Wilcox. That unexpected visit with Willie made
me realize how long it's been since I saw him last, and now I'm thinking
the same thing about Ryan. We were so intensely into buddy sex for a couple
of years, Ryan and I. Sure, it was on and off, but great until in a short
span of time it all went to hell and I can't remember exactly why. Ryan got
like crazy or paranoid or something. It wasn't a cordial 'goodbye' but not
like we were enemies either. Oh man, I don't wanna call him though because
he's never called or texted me, and he was the one who sort of shunned me
and then dropped out of Merrimack. I think it was 'mental'... Ryan had some
kind of depression or something.

Hmm, I'll send him a text and feel him out. What to say? Okay, I type: 'Hi
there old friend! Getting ready to graduate? Man, I can't wait 'cause I've
had all the college studying I can take. I hope you're well and please text
me back. I miss you and don't worry... I only remember the great times
we've had together and I hope you do too. Text me. Your buddy Dylan.'

I hit 'send' quickly so I don't change my mind. Well, I extended the olive
branch, as they say. I truly don't remember if we were mad at each other or
what the fuck our problem was. I'm not taking this on my conscience as well
as the Danny thing, so I feel good I reached out although I'm apprehensive
about what I might get back from Ryan. Jesus, I had probably the hottest
orgasms with him of my life but we were younger too, so... And I truly
don't think I did anything to Ryan that would warrant him dumping me as a
friend. I really don't!

After staring at my phone for ten minutes, not sure if I'm hoping for a
text back or not... I all of a sudden think...  Oh fuck, I gotta call
Chubby! Goddamn, I was supposed to tell him to call the twins! Also, I need
to tell him where the car's parked! What was I just thinking about being
responsible? I forgot because, well, Willie fucked me and then Rob got
hurt. Oh, balls... shit happens, ya know?

It's a minor miracle but Chub answers his phone and I tell him where I left
the car and then briefly why I left it there, but Chubby interrupts, "Slow
down, my brother. How's this sound... I'm gonna walk over and get the car
right now and then pick you up. We'll have some beers at Rolf's and you can
tell me everything." I'm like, "Well, did you at least get a chance to talk
to the twins?" He goes, "Yep, I talked with both of them at different
times... no worries, bro. I'll tell you about it at the bar. I'm coming to
get you right now." I go, "Oh, wow! I mean, it's Saturday night, Chub. I
assumed you'd be going out tonight." He's like, "Yeah, I am going out! I'm
going out with my favorite person on planet earth." I go, "Aw, thanks, but
you know what I meant." He says, "Well, yeah, John Beverly and I were gonna
go with some guys and girls to that big year-end frat party at BC. Fuck
that though, I don't really wanna drive all the way to the suburbs. I'd
much rather be with you."

So good... that's what we'll do. I look in the bedroom and see Rob's
asleep. Then, just to be safe, I use a Magic Marker to write a big note on
the back of one of the cardboards that come with our shirts from the
cleaners. I tell Rob... 'I'm at Rolf's with Chub and text me if you need
me'. Then I tape the cardboard to my pillow next to him and put his cell
phone next to it with a big red arrow pointing at it.

After washing up quickly, I brush my teeth, comb my too-long bangs over to
the side, then get some hair gel to hold the hairs to the side and then,
after looking at myself in the mirror and being satisfied, I go outside to
wait for Chubby. It's ten-of-ten when we walk into a noisy Rolf's
Bar. Jeez, it's so cool just Chubby and me.

Sitting at a small table in the corner we take turns telling each other
stuff while drinking what eventually turns out to be four beers and two
shots of bourbon. I tell Chubby everything I can remember about today's
lunch and the job offer I got, which he already knew about, then we talk
about the Las Vegas wedding, and then I update him on Robby's injury and
blah, blah, blah. Chubby tells me what was said when he talked with Tom and
Timmy earlier this afternoon and, damn, it's so cool being with Chubby,
just the two of us...

At one point he squeezed my hand, saying, "I was gonna call you, bro, but I
got involved with this babe... um, well never mind that. We're here now." I
nod and Chub diplomatically goes on to make it seem as though he's agreeing
with my decision not to take the twins' generous offer when in fact it was
Chubby who basically, in my mind anyway, made the decision for me before I
even interviewed with the Rider twins. Chub's advice was I should accept a
management training position with Rob's company because the Rider Group
wasn't a good fit for me. That's how Chubby always refers to it... Rob's
company. Rob and I always refer to it as his dad's company, which it is.

Mostly though it's the Las Vegas wedding we talk about. Chubby couldn't be
happier about the prospect of partying there! We're both happy for our
moms, obviously, but their marriage to Tim and Tom has been expected for
some time now, so that's no surprise. The Las Vegas party is THE
surprise. We also really like that it's an alternative to anything
traditional. The moms probably feel they're too old for a 'here comes the
bride' moment, so this is much better.

As Chub and I were talking about Las Vegas, I had visions of hitting a
jackpot like Dodger did when he hit his million-dollar jackpot that turned
out to be $350,000. I wonder what the odds are for me doing that too? Then
I was surprised to hear Chub's not sure he'll bring John Beverly to
Vegas. He's leaning toward bringing this girl he's been 'nailing', as
Chubby put it. We talk about a lot of things that make us laugh and then
about next Saturday which Chubby claims is 'Brothers' Day'. And, because of
that little known celebratory day, we're gonna spend the whole day together
in Boston. I'm pretty sure Chubby knows more factoids than Google, so I
sort of believe him when he says there's a holiday for brothers. Our final
exams will be over before Saturday so we'll celebrate that too, plus a day
spent together, Chubby and me, is a guaranteed great day for me no matter
the occasion!

Getting pleasantly drunk with Chubby is an experience I wish could go on
for hours and hours, but this has been a bit of a weird stressful and
seemingly endless Saturday for me, so at my insistence, I finally get
Chubby to agree to call it a night a little after midnight. We hug very
tightly and do a brother's kiss outside the apartment and then Chub drives
off waving at me, probably on his way someplace that'll keep the night
alive for him. For me, I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep.

Everything is as I left it in the bedroom so, obviously, Rob never woke
up. Taking my note and Rob's cell phone off my pillow, I get undressed, do
some things in the bathroom and then, with a sigh, slide under the covers
gently so as not to wake Rob, and I sleep right through the night.

Waking up and glancing at my watch, I see it's nine o'clock on this bright
Sunday morning. Lying here for a few minutes I try going back to sleep but
Rob's getting out of bed now, cursing at the pain in his, um, groin. I
watch him as he's slowly, taking small steps making his way to the
bathroom, "Do you need help, Rob?" He shakes his head, "No thanks, babe. I
gotta get used to getting around like this. It's gonna take a couple of
weeks to heal. No problem," and two seconds later, from the hall, I hear,
"Goddammit to hell! This is so fucked up..." Huh, he probably tried taking
a bigger step and then I hear the bathroom door slam. Poor guy...

Still enjoying lying here in bed, I start thinking about yesterday. Holy
shit, first that awkward lunch with the twins, then my unexpected
back-to-the-future time with Willie who, incredibly, is getting married,
then Robby's injury, and finally me getting drunk with Chubby and... what a
fucking day! Huh, maybe Willie will get married but he never did mention a
wedding 'date' so maybe there isn't one. Well, he did say he wanted to
travel all over Europe this summer. I think he said he wanted to show off
his bride. Um, showing her off to people he doesn't know. He wants to do
that because... it'll be 'fun', which is all the reason Willie needs to do
any crazy fucking thing you can think of. So it's a June wedding,
perhaps. Oh, brother, I love Willie, but... whatever.

After dozing off again, when I open my eyes this time I hear Robby cursing
and then slowly coming into the bedroom still drying himself after his
shower. He says, "It's torture, Dylan. I'll be doing okay and then forget
for a second and take almost a normal step and this pain shoots from my
groin like somebody stuck a fuckin' knife in me." I mumble, "Oh man, that
blows so much." Dropping the towel he starts getting dressed, muttering, "I
guess all I can do is lie around here with ice on my crotch."

Getting out of bed, I try to get him thinking about something else, asking,
"What would you like for breakfast? How about pancakes?" He nods and
smiles, "Thanks, Dylan, I'd love some pancakes. You always take awesome
care of me, thank you, and I'm sorry for complaining so much." Yeah,
well... I mutter, "No! No problem. Jeez, it's nothing..."

I do my stuff in the bathroom and then get dressed thinking this probably
isn't going to be a fun day. In the kitchen, I put some link breakfast
sausages in a frying pan while Rob's gingerly moving around making himself
a mug of coffee. Then he spreads a tea towel on the kitchen bar and gets
the ice tray from the freezer and almost drops it. I take the ice tray from
him, saying, "Let me do that for you," and he mutters, "Thanks," and takes
twenty-two small steps to get from the kitchen to the sofa, a distance of,
oh, I'd say twelve feet.

As the sausages begin to sizzle in the frying pan, I finish the improvised
ice pack for Rob and then place it gently against the inside of his left
thigh, then the hand towel between the ice pack and his nuts. He has the
leg elevated with his foot on the same cushion I put on the coffee table
yesterday so, what else can I do? He sighs and then snickers, mumbling,
"This blows so fucking bad, doesn't it?" I go, "Yeah, it does. Um, is the
leg feeling any better today?" He looks at me, "Yeah, babe, it's coming
along okay," and I sit next to him, "Oh, good... some positivity is nice to
hear, um..." and I tell him about the Las Vegas weddings that will likely
take place shortly after graduation.

Rob's eyes light up as he exclaims, "Hot shit! I've never been to Las
Vegas. That's so cool of the Riders! Babe, that'll be great!" Yeah, well,
almost any guy our age will think Las Vegas rocks. There must be something
in my expression though that makes Rob add, "Not for us though, Dylan. Not
now anyway. Right?" I go, "Omigod, no! I wasn't thinking we'd be getting
married there. I'm thinking we'll get married in like a couple of years."
He says, "Oh, no-no, not a couple of years! No, my ridiculously cute
boyfriend, we're getting married before then. Not in Vegas though, we
wouldn't want to take any of the attention from your mom and Mrs. Romero on
their wedding day." I'm like, "Of course not. Hey, ya know what's kinda
weird?" He goes, "Many things, but which one are you thinking of?" I go,
"Chub and I as little kids always refer to my mom and his mom as... 'the
moms'. Haha, that's because we thought we had two moms." Rob has a
compassionate expression on his face because he knows what I'm going to
say, as I'm murmuring, "Ya know, 'cause, as I told you, our dad died so
early in his life, um, and we never even met him." Rob murmurs, "I know,
and that's very sad, Dylan." I mutter, "Yeah, well, I don't know why I,
um..."

Yes, Chubby's mom is 'Mrs. Romero' although I never think of Tris as
that. My dad married her so, obviously, he couldn't marry my mom too. I'm
officially what's known as a 'bastard' because my mom had me out of
wedlock, as they say. We're okay with that though, mom and me. My dad was
seventeen at the time and, hell, I wasn't especially brilliant at that age
either. I carry his picture in my wallet six months each year with Chubby
carrying it the other six months. The picture is of our dad, a boy
actually, and he was uber fucking cute too! It was taken with an old
fashion camera of some kind two months before his brain aneurysm killed
him. Sometimes I get the feeling Chubby, I don't know, maybe feels a little
guilty that our dad married his mom and not mine so Chubby's been trying to
make up for that by treating me special all my life. That's idiotic of
course because we weren't even told about any of it, about our dad
impregnating our moms within a forty-eight hour period, or about us being
half brothers... not until after our Merrimack freshman year. Sure, it's an
unusual situation we found ourselves in... me, my mom, Tris, and
Chubby. Unusual, ha... how's that for an understatement?

To move on from that, I go, "Anyway, Rob, come to think of it, I don't know
if same-sex marriages are legal in Nevada." He goes, "Didn't the Supreme
Court make it legal in all fifty states?" I nod, "Yes, I think that's
right, but some states are fighting it in court... I think."  Rob goes,
"Jeez, we're terrible. We should know more about all that. What I do know
is we can marry in this state and I can hardly wait to put the ring on your
finger." Ha, I'm thinking he's going to be chuckling but he's grimacing
instead because he tried adjusting the position of his injured leg.

I'm not sure getting married makes a helluva lot of sense anyhow. I mean,
what's the point, ya know? On the other hand, if it's important to Rob,
I'll go along with him... eventually. Obviously, 'eventually' could mean
ten years from now. Hell, we've been talking about Rob's vision of us as a
married couple with one or two kids for a few years now although, frankly,
timetables for all that remains vague. Hell, I want Rob to be happy and,
fortunately, I'm totally flexible. I can be happy under any number of
different scenarios for life, um, within reason obviously.

Things have a way of sorting themselves out anyway. And, ya know what? I
wish I had a little more ambition... seriously, I do and I gotta wonder why
I don't. I mean, Chubby's ambitious so what aren't I? He doesn't care for
studying any more than I do but he's going to college two more years to get
his Master's Degree, so that shows ambition. Maybe I'm putting all my eggs
in the Robby-basket, so to speak. He has enough ambition for both of
us. And it's not that I'm lazy. Hell, I worked the past four summers and
liked it. It's more that I don't have a goal. What should my goal
be... hmm?

Ah, fuck that! Turning down the fire under the sausages, I tell Rob, "I'm
gonna get the Sunday paper. Try not to hurt yourself while I'm out." He
mutters, "Wiseass," and as I start to leave, he's like, "Oh, wait a second,
Dylan. Before you go, would you get a pillow for my back? This fucking sofa
is, I don't know, the fucking back is curved the wrong way or some fucking
thing... " and then he tries adjusting his position, "Ow, now I hurt my
friggin' leg again!"

And he wasn't trying to be funny either. Poor boy. I get his pillow from
the bedroom and then watch him as he struggles to get it in the right
position. Jesus, I finally take it from him and get it adjusted just
right. He mutters, "Oh, that's perfect, thanks." Then I escape to the
outside world for a few minutes. With a sigh, I lean against the truck and
light a cigarette thinking about everything that happened yesterday. Holy
shit, what a strange day but it's all good, no problem, just someone's
life... in this case, mine.

Finished my smoke, I drive through the winding roads of the apartment
complex looking at the rows of trees on both sides of the road and glancing
up seeing they're totally covered with leaves creating a canopy with only
random sunlight streaking through small breaks in the leaves, shafts of
sunlight piercing the windshield kinda spooky-like. Life's a little spooky
at times too.

Parking in front of the rental office I buy a Sunday Globe paying a dollar
over the regular price to an enterprising high school student with unruly
hair who makes fifty dollars every weekend selling Sunday Boston Globes and
the Sunday New York Times to lazy residents of this huge apartment
complex... lazy residents like myself who think it's worth the extra dollar
to avoid the drive down Route 114 to the Rite Aid drugstore for the paper.

Back at the apartment, I give Rob the sports section to read while I mix-up
Bisquick pancakes batter and then in ten minutes we have a nice breakfast
after which I get him comfortably situated on the sofa again. I turn on the
TV to ESPN and as Rob's watching that I read the sports section hearing
only an occasional, "OW! Motherfucker!" from Rob when he moves his leg the
wrong way.

Next, I have an eleven o'clock 'date' with Connor at the Quad. So, finished
reading the Sunday paper, I make sure Rob has what he needs, and then I do
some stuff in the bathroom. Ya know, take a piss, wash my hands, comb my
hair over to the side in front, and then gawk at my reflection from the
mirror... stuff like that. I should shave I suppose, but I shrug at my
reflection 'cause I don't feel like shaving, and I look okay.

Driving to Merrimack is no problem on this sleepy Sunday-morning and then
driving through a suburban college campus where many of the students are
still too hungover to get out of bed is an easy drive as well, and then I
get a good parking spot close to the Quad. Connor's been studying like mad
for his finals but he texted me yesterday that he needed a break, plus he
said he didn't want to miss any of our coffee breaks together. We try to
get together either Saturday or Sunday and then twice during the
week. We've been meeting at the Quad all semester. There have been a few
times we've actually had some beers at Rolf's Bar, just the two of us. That
was unheard of during the first semester, but things change.

Connor's waiting inside the front door for me. We do a quick hug and, as
usual, he's all smiles. Lately, he's been looking more like the boy I met
in high school, the quiet shy boy who asked me if I thought there was a
chance he could be on the school newspaper. I was the editor and when I saw
pretty-boy, Connor, I was like... 'Hmm, well, have you done much writing?'
Haha, he could have been illiterate and I would have still found a spot on
the newspaper for him. Then as I got to know him I found out his disturbing
life story and grew to admire and love him as a friend.

He really does look a hundred times better than he did when I first saw him
last September. The eyeglasses I helped him choose are cool-looking on him
and now his hair is long enough to comb-over with a small pompadour in
front like my lover-boy, Robby. No more of the skinhead-look for Connor,
but mostly he looks healthy now that he's much less stressed which allows
his natural good 'looks' to shine through. He's one of those guys with a
pale complexion but dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. The dark hair and
dark blue eyes are a striking contrast to his pale pinkish/white coloring
and, like the Dickers brothers, Connor's facial features are especially
good-looking. He's very handsome but he's lost his boyish cuteness, as so
many young men do.

We get coffees and then I listen to him tell me how confident he is about
his final exams and how he's anxiously looking forward to summer
classes. He desperately wants to get his degree, which he expects to get by
the end of next summer. His plans are vague after that but from what little
he tells me, I can't see how they include much of Stosh. I say that
although Connor is spending a couple of weeks before the start of summer
classes at Stosh's 'ranch' in Texas. I suspect they'll remain in contact
with one another even after they split up their, um, whatever their
relationship is. I'm not totally clear on that and I don't pry. I know
there's sex involved but I get the impression it's not often and, as to
what form it takes I couldn't say. Considering what I know about Stosh,
well, I'll leave it at that...

Stosh has changed though, and I mean for the better which pretty much goes
without saying. I mean, if he's changed it would need to be for the better
as I can't imagine how he could get much worse than he was. As he's become
more, um, 'human', Connor's been able to be pretty much a normal college
student. He's got a friend or two now, and a special one... a young lady he
studies with who eventually wanted to be more than 'friends' with
Connor. He explained to her he's gay but she remains friends with him,
which isn't at all surprising because he's a very special person.

Considering the condition I found Connor in last fall, it's ironic that he
now appears more in control of his life than at any time I've known
him. What that's cost him personally only he knows. The druggie mother
whose whereabouts is unknown, going through high school on welfare check
remnants after his mother bought her cocaine or whatever, the strangeness
of Stosh, no known relatives means he's been on his own trying to survive
since grade school, and I don't know what the fuck else he's been
through. Well, Stosh's suffocating jealousy for one thing, and whatever
else. Connor's survived all kinds of disappointments and hardship to be in
an okay place right now.

He and I have plans to get together this summer in between his summer
courses and, hell, I know somehow we'll stay in touch forever. There's a
brotherhood bond between us I can't describe, but it's very much there.

Anyway, Stosh no longer puts a limit on the amount of time Connor and I can
spend together but today it's me who needs to cut our time short so I can
check on Rob but, overall, I feel fantastic that Connor's in a good 'place'
right now. He's finally at a point in his life where he can see,
metaphorically speaking, the end of the tunnel. A little over a year from
now he'll graduate college and, at the same time, he'll have fulfilled his
Army Reserve obligation. I wouldn't be surprised if he was president of the
United States someday. Nothing he accomplishes will surprise me but, that
being said, I worry he'll never know true happiness because of everything
he's gone through since early childhood. It has to have left 'scars' on his
psyche he doesn't let the world see. Anyway, maybe true happiness for any
of us is an illusion and is only what we pretend happiness is once we
realize we're the closest to it we can get, so at some point, we
decide... okay, I'll call this happiness.

Hoping I'm wrong about that, I drive back to the apartment and find Rob is
doing fine, but not great. At one o'clock I make ham and cheese sandwiches
for our lunch. As Rob's putting together another icepack, I look at him and
this strange feeling comes over me, this great love swells up in my heart
for him and it makes me smile. Hmm, I don't think I'm pretending to be
happy... I'm pretty sure I am happy.

We eat the sandwiches along with Cokes and sharing a bag of Lay's potato
chips and then watch the Red Sox game on TV. At three o'clock I get a call
from Danny who has the balls to tell me, "You're supposed to be doing my
haircut today, baby. Where the hell are you?" I'm like, "Really? You're
actually going to let me do it this time?" He says, "Of course! We made
plans, don't you remember?" Bullshit! We've made plans to do his haircut at
least five times and something always comes up that allows Danny to change
his mind.

Danny says, "Hey, I also need a ride to Salem in Cow Hampshire... yeah, I
gotta buy some booze?" I'm like, "You're buying whiskey?" He says, "Well,
I'd personally rather buy grass but Specks left me money for VO and I
promised I'd get it for him." Cow Hampshire, for some reason, is what some
people call New Hampshire... I don't know why.

I'm like, "Oh yeah? And when you promised Specks, how exactly did you
expect you'd get to New Hampshire without a car or were you planning on
paying Taxachusetts prices for the VO?" He chuckles, "No, I was planning on
you giving me a ride across the border." I go, "Uh huh, so that's actually
why you mentioned the haircut... you're conning me into giving you a ride
to Salem." He says, "What? No! The one has nothing to do with the other,
Dylan. Can you come over now?" I go, "Yeah, well, hold on a second." I tell
Robby and he says, "Ya know, we could use some booze too, babe. Some Old
Grandad bourbon for guests, meaning your brother, then VO for our
Manhattans, and maybe some vodka for bloody Mary's. Whaddaya think?" and he
takes money from his pocket and holds it out to me. Is that a fifty dollar
bill? I mutter, "Yeah, okay, Rob," and then his phone rings. I'm holding
the fifty dollar bill in one hand and my cell phone in the other as we both
look over at his phone on the kitchen bar, and then we look at each
other. I finally say, "I'll get it," and then tell Danny, "Okay, I'll see
you in ten minutes."

I answer Rob's phone and it's Carl who's worried about final exams next
week and he needs Robby's help. I tell Rob and he goes, "Yeah, tell him
it's okay with me but you'll need to pick him up and bring him back here. I
can't drive." Yeah, I'll do that because Carl can be Rob's nurse while I'm
gone. We get that straightened out and after dropping Carl off at the
apartment I drive back to the campus and park near dormitory row.

Hmm, actually, this will be very interesting. Yeah, I wanna see if my
theory holds water. The theory that my crush on Danny has its Genesis
subconsciously in me seeing something in Danny that's reminding me of my
young lover Willie. I mean Willie and me in our glory days gone by. We were
very young when we had our intense relationship and, subconsciously, maybe
I'm reliving those younger days vicariously through Danny's and my
relationship. There are unmistakable similarities in those two boys that I
never realized, that is until yesterday's unexpected encounter with Willie.

Far fetched you say? Yeah, probably, but I think I may be onto something
because being with Willie yesterday burst the balloon of my memories of us
together. I mean, duh, we're not seventeen anymore. It was still great,
don't get me wrong, but we're simply not those two youngsters now. Well,
I'm not anyway. So now I'm wicked curious to see if that realization has
popped my other balloon. The other balloon being the curious reason for the
crush I have on Danny... that balloon. No way to know for sure until I'm
with Danny and notice if there's a difference in my crush intensity now.

Walking down the hall in Danny's dormitory I see him joking around with
three dorm-mates further down the hall. As I approach, Danny says, "Here
comes my personal barber and chauffeur now." One of the three guys he's
with, the one who looks like a lumberjack with his longish beard and unruly
scraggly hair who's, by the way, wearing only sagging pajama bottoms and
flip flops, he's the one who says to me, "I'm next, barber-boy, and then
you can drive me to the hardware store in North Andover." All four of them
laugh out loud as my lip curls at the revolting thought of doing anything
with him. Nodding my head at Danny, I mumble, "He's the college barber and
I flunked my chauffeur's license." The lumberjack, mutters, "It was a joke,
dipshit..."

I'm standing not far from Danny's dorm room as they're now giggling about
something else. I go, "Seriously, Danny?" He nods, "Yeah, I'm coming," and
the four of them bump fist before Danny walks up to me and, as we go into
his room, he's whispering, "That was rude of you... the way you sneered
those comments at Grogan. He's a good guy!" I roll my eyes at him,
muttering, "You've gotta be shitting me..."

Yes, Danny knows a lot of people on campus and not only from his dormitory
but lots of other guys from the baseball team and the dining hall he eats
at, as well as the guys he's giving free haircuts to every Saturday. He
knows fifty times more guys, and some girls too, than I do but Danny's
totally indiscriminate... he'll be friends with anybody no matter how
obnoxious, unattractive, or uncouth they are. I should be more that way I
suppose, but I can't make myself overlook those negative qualities. The
fact is, I wouldn't want to know a single one of those clods in the hall
with him.

Glancing at Danny, I gotta shake my head a little 'cause it's disappointing
to see he fits right in with that dufus who said, 'It was a joke,
dipshit'. Danny's wearing baggy shorts and a stretched-out-of-shape t-shirt
and he needs a shower. He grins and blatantly says, "Um, could we do the
haircut some other time, Dylan? I need to get to Cow-Hampshire 'cause I
promised Specks." Jesus, the unmitigated gall! And he's actually needed a
haircut going back a month or more. Now his hair has grown out to look like
a hairstyle, if you wanna call it a 'style', from the Beatles' era of the
sixties. Plus, his hair right now isn't combed and doesn't appear to have
been close to water and shampoo recently.

Shaking my head, I'm like, "Oh really? You promised Specks, huh? Well, I'm
more interested in what exactly you had in mind for your haircut, or didn't
you ever intend getting a haircut?" He shrugs, "If ya mean some other time,
sure I'm gonna get a haircut, of course. I don't know when... hey, c' mon,
I gotta get that booze for Specks. He's counting on me." I give him a
'look' and he adds sarcastically, "Okay, how about if I get a haircut like
yours, um, when I get around to it? How would that be?" My eyes open wide
as I go, "Seriously?" and he laughs, saying, "No, not seriously! C'mon, we
need to get Specks' VO. Do ya think I'll be okay wearing these clothes
outside?" Is he out of his fucking mind? I wouldn't wear those clothes to
clean a toilet, never mind go shopping 'outside', plus it's chilly outside.

Nah, Danny isn't like Willie, not today he's not, but, wait a second
here... I'm not sensing my normal crush on him! I'm not, but is that
because I'm pissed off? Hmm, I don't know how much me being pissed-off is
affecting my crush theory. Whatever, I still need to deal with this
situation so I say, "Okay, you prick, fuck your haircut! From now on I
don't care about your fucked-up hair. And, yes, you can definitely wear
shorts and that raggedy-ass t-shirt 'cause you're a college student... you
can wear any dumb-ass thing you want no matter how absurd." He nods, "Yeah,
I know that. Fuck it, I don't feel like changing." I go, "And even though I
personally didn't promise Specks shit, I'm thrilled that you've transferred
your promise to me. I can hardly wait to drive to Salem on a Sunday, the
busiest fucking day of the week there!" He runs his fingers through his
hair to get it out of his eyes, as he asks, "You okay, baby? You seem, um,
tense or something."

It's fifty-two degrees outside. That's the temperature-reading on the
pickup's gauge when I drove over here. I make a 'face' at him when he asks
if I'm okay, and then Danny perceptively asks, "Is something pissing you
off?" and he follows-up that brilliant deduction with a dumb
cliché. "Did you get out of bed on the wrong side of this morning?"
He puts his arms around me as I mumble, "Nooo! I'm good, nothing's wrong
with me. C'mon, let's get that booze I didn't promise to get for Specks!"

Letting go of me, he's like, "Okay, but I better put on sneakers at least."
He's wearing flip flops like that dumb-ass slob in the hall. I go, "Noooo,
flip flops are fine! It's been spring for a month now. Beautiful spring
weather in New England! Whaddaya talking about... sneakers?" He grabs his
baseball cap grinning and saying, "Yeah, you're right," and we leave. Fuck,
I'm wearing jeans and sneakers and I was cold picking up Carl.

Outside we're walking to the pickup with Danny laughing, then saying, "My
feet are cold already." I mutter, "Pussy," and we get in the pickup. Yeah,
I'm irritated and pissed-off, is that alright? I'm sick of Danny's haircut
bullshit and I didn't care for that old-looking motherfucker calling me
'dip-shit' or his remark about 'he's next', and then Danny having the balls
to give me shit about me 'being rude' to that cretin.

As I'm driving away, Danny's like, "Oh, how's Rob?" I would have thought
that'd be one of the first things he'd ask. Sarcastically I go, "He
couldn't be better," and Danny goes, "I figured it was nothing serious." I
mumble, "Yeah, just a couple of ripped adductor muscles. He'll be able to
walk without pain in a week or two." Danny, of course, ignored that as he
says, "Hey, there's a pre-final-exams party at Beaver's apartment
tonight. Ya wanna go? I'm looking for a ride over there." I'm like, "Sure!
Of course, I wanna go! I'll leave Rob to deal with his adductor rips on his
own. He can hobble around in pain while I get drunk with some fucking
rodent."  Danny goes, "Yo! Are you mad at me or something?"

Taking a deep breath, I say, "Yeah, I guess I am mad at you, although
you're not doing anything out of the ordinary. Not for you, I mean. You're
just being yourself." He frowns, "What's that mean?" I go, "Nothing, forget
I said anything. Um, but I was kidding a second ago when I said I'd go to
that rodent's party." Danny says, "Rodent? Whaddaya mean? And it still
seems like you're mad at me." Shaking my head, I go, "No, I'm fine now,
Danny. You should have put some clothes on though." He goes, "But you
said..." I go, "It was a joke, dipshit!" He mutters, "Dipshit?"

We're on Route 495 heading for Route 213 that connects with Route 28, which
is the road that runs right down the center of Salem, New
Hampshire. Normally it's only a fifteen-minute drive from Merrimack but it
takes longer on Sundays because there's a lot of heavy traffic on Route 28
on weekends when everyone from Massachusetts is going to Salem for the
lower prices and to avoid the sales tax in our own state. And that's why I
don't go to Salem Saturday or Sunday. And, yes, there's a Salem,
Massachusetts too. That Salem is about a forty-minute drive from
Merrimack. I've never been to Salem, Massachusetts even though I'm pretty
sure they've stopped burning witches by now. I'm only concerned about that
because someone once called me a warlock, so, ya know...

Anyway, the state liquor store in Salem, New Hampshire is conveniently
located right across the Massachusetts border. That is, it's convenient for
Massachusetts residents. As I'm driving, I'm thinking there's some validity
to my theory of the Willie/Danny connection because my crush on Danny seems
to have evaporated as mysteriously as it formed ten months ago. I say that
because I'd never have been this irritated with Danny a few days ago when
my crush was flourishing.

Yeah, that's true although, realistically, I can't be positive seeing
Willie yesterday has anything to do with my crush going missing. The
explanation could be as simple as Danny's general wackiness and lack of
dependability, qualities that used to seem a fun change from
super-responsible Robby, have lost some of their charms for me. Whatever
the reason, I do feel differently about Danny today although that's not to
say I'm not fond of him because I'm still extremely fond of him... hell, I
love him as a friend. Buddy-sex with him still intrigues me tremendously
too, but I do believe the crush might be gone. And, as I said, I don't know
exactly why, or even how I know it's gone... it just is, I think.

And yes, there is such a thing as coincidence. Me spending time with Willie
and now losing my crush on Danny could be a coincidence or, what the hell,
maybe subconsciously I may have been seeing Danny as a substitute for
Willie of my youth and I was perhaps reliving those special times of being
young and fascinated by Willie. Jesus, it was so much fucking fun back then
being young, but now is now, and now is not then... ya know?

Yes, crush or no crush, I most definitely would like buddy sex with Danny
this afternoon. It now will be 'pure' a buddy-sex as it should have been
all along. It should never have been the special almost lover's sex
relationship that developed in my mind. I knew that all along, of course,
but I ignored it. Yeah, I let our relationship develop along those lines
and I totally admit it's been my fault. I'm the one to blame, not Danny who
must have picked up on my vibes that it was more than buddy-sex in my mind,
but now it's not. Maybe he'll pick up on those vibes too.

Parking in the lot for the New Hampshire Liquor and Wine Outlet, which is
its official name, I give Danny a smile and say, "Just so you know, Danny,
you are getting a haircut when we get back to your dorm." He says,
"Alright, fine! Gawd, I don't want you mad at me. You're acting different,
baby." I lean over and put my arm across his shoulders, saying, "Honey,
please stop calling me that." He goes, "Honey?" and I go, "That's what I'm
calling you when you call me 'baby'." He goes, "Christ, what's gotten into
you?"

As we get out of the pickup I'm chuckling to myself because I don't know
what's gotten into me. Inside the store, Danny points and goes, "Oh, fuck!
Is that Professor Kline?" I go, "Wha...?" He says, "The guy in the check
out line... the fat bald motherfucker." I go, "I don't know a Professor
Kline, so I can't help you there, honey."  Danny says, "It's fucking cold
in here, huh?"

Rolling my eyes I pull a shopping cart off the end of a lined-up group of
carts, muttering, "Why do you suppose these shopping carts are so fucking
big?" Danny goes, "Can we get Specks' VO first? I don't want to forget it."
We do that, both of us getting a bottle of VO as Danny asks, "So what's up
with you, baby? Why so cranky?" I purposely ignore that question because
Danny most likely wouldn't be listening to my answer anyway. Instead, I
brightly say, "Ya know what, I'm looking forward to being a working
stiff. I'll happily leave college behind. How about you?" He ignores that
and asks, "So why'd you yell at me?" I go, "Huh? I didn't yell at you, but
I should have. You frustrate the shit outta me with your haircut bullshit!"
He goes, "Whaddaya talking about?" and then he responds to me saying I'm
glad college will be behind me, saying, "College has been awesome, baby! I
wish we had another year or two."

I can't even imagine another year of college! Jesus, studying that useless
bullcrap and listening to boring pompous professors who live in their own
world of academia. Fuck that! As I'm getting a bottle of bourbon off the
shelf, I decide I need to kind of make-up to Danny for being grumpy, so I
say, "The best thing about this year at college for me was having the best
buddy-sex buddy in the world... you!" He grins, "You fucking know it!" and
then he goes off on something else, saying excitedly, "Oh, did I tell you,
Tom Brooker's old man got me that teaching position at Framingham High?" I
go, "No shit!" He nods, "It's definitely almost certain." I go,
"Congratulations!" He nods again, "Yeah, I'll be a PE and health or sex
class teacher or I forget exactly, but it's just about definite that I'll
be teaching and coaching in the fall." I go, "It's definite... but you're
not sure, huh?" He nods, "Yep, old man Brooker came through for me." I'm
like, "I'm happy for you, Danny!" and we do an old fashion high-five.

Omigod, he's something unique alright! Danny's like a cute clueless puppy
dog... or is he? I'm pushing this oversized shopping cart toward the vodka
section as Danny's saying, "I glanced through the teacher's guide for the
health wellness studies, or, I forget what the course is called. Or maybe I
just said it... health/wellness." I nod my head, still grinning to myself.

Then Danny points at two guys and yells," Yo, Barry! Text me about you know
what, dude!" and a cute guy with curly shoulder-length hair yells over his
shoulder, "Did you forget to get dressed this morning, Danny?" Danny's
chuckling giving curly locks the finger and then he says to me, "Anyway, as
I was saying there's a lot about sex education in that fucking study guide!
Ya know, the book the lady gave me. I don't remember much sex being talked
about in our high school classes. Do you?" I shrug, "No, or, I don't
remember. Just follow the guide though, right?" He's like, "Yeah, but
there'll be girls in the class too... what if they ask me something about
their snatch, ya know?"

There's a lot more space in this huge store dedicated to wines than liquor,
but there is every kind of liquor you can think of too, so that's good. I
put a bottle of vodka in the cart, asking, "Um, the PE, the physical
education part of your teaching job... um, will that be just boys?" He
shrugs, "I'm not sure but the woman I talked to said something about
they're combining two classes into one. I wasn't paying too much attention
to that. What I was mostly interested in, obviously, is coaching the
baseball team and I was disappointed she didn't seem to know a helluva lot
about that. The woman's name is Mrs. Klondike and..." I go, "Like the ice
cream bar?" He's like, "Huh? Anyway, she said the coach will probably be
happy to have me as an assistant, but I won't get paid for it." I'm like,
"Well, it's a start!" He goes, "Yeah, and I've got a shit load of stuff to
complete this summer too. First I've got my two baseball coaching clinics
to go to, the first one is down south, and then I need to do summer school
teaching for six weeks and then I'm enrolled in a second baseball camp for
coaches and, well... Christ, talking about this I'm almost as psyched as
you are to get started with all that stuff this summer and to hell with
college."

Whatever, I'm happy for him! He's got his VO and I've got the three bottles
of liquor Rob asked for, so we head for the checkout. We didn't need the
cart! We do need the booze though because there's gonna be celebrating
after final exams and then, of course, after graduation too so it's good to
have extra liquor on hand. I mean, how else ya gonna celebrate if not by
getting drunk?

Yeah, but this won't be anything like partying after high school
graduation. In high school, everyone lives in the same town and when we
graduated there were parties galore all over the town of
Framingham. Students at Merrimack are from different parts of the country
so graduation parties will be mostly with families back home. Celebrating
with fellow students will be informal booze parties at bars and in dorm
rooms before and right after we graduate... and then everyone goes home to
get a job and face the reality that the party's over... dude!

Danny's in a good mood. I suppose it's because he's thinking about going to
his coaching clinics after graduating. As I'm driving back to the campus,
he says, "Hey, baby, it's fucking amazing how similarly we think, ya know?"
I go, "No, honey, I don't know," and he goes, "Don't call me that! It's
creeping me out. Why are you doing that?" I snicker and say, "What kind of
a haircut do you want?" Haha, I think I like this non sequitur way of
conversing... ignoring what he says and, instead, asking about something
else. He goes, "Haircut? Wha... oh, I guess something neat so that ten
years from now I won't look at the picture my mom takes of me at graduation
and be like... 'what the fuck was I thinking?" I go, "Good thinking."

When we're back in his dorm room, there's no more hesitation on Danny's
part. He takes a few magazines off the barber chair and sits down, saying,
"I'm leaving my haircut up it up to you Dylan. You decide, but remember
graduation is ten days away. That's the only reason I wanted to put this
off. You know, so I'd have a fresh haircut for that picture mom will take
of me holding my diploma with a big-ass smile on my face." I go, "Oh,
yeah. Jeez, actually I do see your point." And I do too. It makes sense to
wait. Christ, he's already a month past due for a haircut so what
difference will another week make?  I say, "Okay, you're right, Danny!
We'll do the haircut next week." He goes, "Oh, no, I don't want you mad at
me."

I'm rolling my eyes 'cause he got me again, this time there's actually a
legitimate reason for putting this off. I emphatically say, "No, you're
right! We'll wait!" He jumps up off the chair and puts his hands on my
waist, murmuring, "See... I wanted you to come to the right conclusion on
your own." I go, "Well, I'm 'slow', honey." He says, "No you're not," and
he rubs his lips across mine. I give him a smirk, saying, "You're actually
clever, aren't you? It's all an act. You hide your cleverness quite well
'cause most people think you're a goof." He rubs noses with me, murmuring,
"No, they don't," and then he swings me around and I end up sitting in the
barber chair.

He says, "I love doing your haircuts." I go, "Honey, you gave me a haircut
ten days ago." He says, "It was closer to two weeks ago." I mutter, "Oh, I
didn't factor in the extra three days, hon." He puts the cape around me and
hooks it in back. I'm amused, but I also have this dastardly fetish so my
dick is buzzing at the thought of getting an unexpected, unnecessary
haircut. I go, "But honey, how come the same logic of waiting until next
week doesn't apply to me too?" He snorts out a laugh and says, "Stop with
that 'honey' bullshit!" Naturally, ignoring the rest of what I said.

It's true, I'm feeling differently about Danny but that doesn't change the
fact he's just as youngish-looking and cute as ever... sexy too. He and I
are the two youngest looking guys from our Framingham High School senior
class. Actually, I could include the junior class as well. Posse-boy, Bean,
looks older than me. Hell, all the posse boys do except Sonny.

Danny combs up through my bangs, saying, "I'm doing your haircut the right
way this time, no more listening to your suggestions. Which means I'll be
cutting these ridiculous three-inch bangs to a normal length for a
crewcut." I say, "They're not three-inches long and would it be possible
for you to just do that much, and then take me to bed and fuck me?" He
goes, "That's possible, yeah." Ironically, just yesterday I was thinking my
hair in front, my bangs, are much too long, especially for a crewcut. I
don't know what I was thinking... I've got no problem with this.

Picking up the professional barber scissors, Danny uses the comb he already
combed through my bangs once to comb them up again and this time, without
hesitating, he cuts through my hair and I hear the "Scrunch, scrunch,"
sounds as the scissors cut through my hair and an inch of it drifts down
past my eyes and then, "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch," with another longer
batch of hair drifting past me joining the hairs in the lap of the barber
cape. He combs up what's left of the front hairs and, "Scrunch, scrunch,"
two more cuts that, I assume, even off the hairs in front and now my bangs
must be almost as short as the rest of the hair on top, which
means... shorter than I wanted but Danny's taken charge of deciding that,
obviously. Those professional scissors he's using are very sharp and, by
the way, they used to be mine. I still have a pair though. The pair I have
are still mine because I didn't tell Danny about them. If I had, he'd have
two pairs of professional barber scissors now.

He says, "What the hell, I'm going to do your entire haircut. This way I
get to have the fun of fucking with your hair two more times before we
graduate." I go, "Fucking with my hair?" He goes, "That doesn't mean
fucking-up your hair. Seriously, you've never in your life gotten better
haircuts than the ones I've been giving you, have you?" I mumble, "No,
you're right about that, honey." He snickers, muttering, "I'm getting used
to hearing you call me 'honey'. I like it now." I mutter, "Well you just
ruined that for me... thanks a lot." Then I hear the clippers turn on and I
settle in to enjoy the fetish ride.

Jeez, Danny's exactly like he always is which makes it weird that I'm not
sensing the intense crush on him the way I used to. Damn, how does the
human mind work? I don't understand my mind at all...

When he finishes running the clippers on the sides and back of my head and
now he's changing the clippers' guide-size, I give him a grin and he says,
"I know damn well you like me giving you haircuts, don't you?" I go, "Yeah,
I do. How'd you know?" Is it possible Danny won't notice a difference in us
at all, including our buddy sex? Is the difference of me having a crush on
him and not having a crush on him only resonating in my mind? Maybe he'll
think the same thoughts about us he's had for the last six months. Hell,
I've never been able to change his mind about anything, but now when I say
to him we don't have a lover's relationship, I'll at least believe it's
true myself whereas before it was getting as though I wasn't sure. Now I
am.

Danny does a rather quick haircut for me but the buzzing clippers and the
falling cut hairs around me still got my fetish tuned-up and I experienced
a nice boner. Nothing amazing, but nice just the same. My hair looks crisp
now that it's freshly cut but, except for the front hairs, the rest looks
almost the same. And ya know, as I look in the handheld mirror he gave me I
gotta admit he was right, the short hair in front is better. It's not too
short like I thought. I think this haircut looks cool on me. It might not
on some guys and, of course, it's a matter of opinion anyway... and
everyone is entitled to theirs.

Taking the barber cape off me, Danny says, "You look so cute with this
haircut, Dylan. Very youthful," and then he squeezes my cheeks together
with his thumb and forefinger and kisses my lips. Then, rubbing my head he
says, "Yes, you're very lucky I took up barbering 'cause you're getting
better haircuts from me by far than you used to get." Getting out of the
barber chair, I mutter, "You're way too modest, Danny."

He snorts out a laugh, and goes, "Just being honest," and he puts his arms
around my waist pulling us together, saying, "I wanna hear you say I'm
gonna be your barber after college." I'm like, "Well, I sure as fuck hope
you will be! You're the best barber I've ever been to." He smiles, "Yeah, I
am," and he moves his lips to mine and then gives me a slow delicious kiss
that revitalizes my fetish-boner that started sagging as soon as I got out
of the barber chair. No crush, but a damn sexy kiss just the same.

His comment that this haircut makes me look youthful gives me pause though
because I'll probably need to change to another hairstyle when I begin
working. As an HR district manager, I sort of need to be taken
seriously. I'll be hiring people for the Westborough office, as well as
building contractors and so forth and me looking like a high school student
probably isn't the best 'look' for me in that capacity. Maybe a haircut
like Rob's. Hmm, on the other hand, I looked like this when I got
hired. Man, I need to figure out this so-called real-life business-world
bullshit... and soon!

Danny asks, "Why the frown?" and I go, "Oh, nothing. Just thinking about
what haircut you can give me when I'm working a full-time job." He squeezes
his arms around me, mumbling, "Think about that some other time. Let me
worry about that. I might consider a haircut for you with a part on the
side. We'll see," and then he sucks my upper lip in between his lips.

I grab a fistful of his long hair at the back of his head and, damn, it
feels a little greasy but I hold onto it anyway to keep his face pressed
against mine and when his lips move off mine I rub my face against his and
inhale his scent but instead I'm getting an unexpected scent of
hair-that-needs-washing. Surprisingly that also makes my dick get
harder. Our tongues lick together and then we lick each other's lips and
chin, both of us snickering. I let go of his hair and Danny pulls his head
back, saying, "We'd be awesome dogs, baby... licking faces, ya know?"

He's pulling my shirt over my head so I help by lifting my arms and then I
pull his baggy t-shirt off and we hug and, oh jeez, the feel of our naked
hairless chests rubbing together gives me sexy shivers. His shoulders are
wider than mine which is another thing that makes my dick harder and a
quiet moan of arousal slips out of my throat. As I said, crush or not,
Danny still gets me very sexually aroused. The difference is... now it's
strictly sexual.

He pulls his head back and says, "I feel that little boner of yours against
my leg, baby, so finish getting undressed and get your cute ass in my bed,"
and he reaches behind me to give my ass a slap, adding, "Now, baby! Get
moving..." I gulp and watch him drop his shorts and then steps out of his
flip flops. Omigod, he wasn't wearing underpants. Did he go booze shopping
without underpants? He was almost naked... Jesus!

He's in bed first and when I crawl in beside him he's already stroked his
dick a few times and now it's making a tent in the sheet. He also has a big
glob of lubricant on his fingers, saying, "Get up on your side facing away
from me, please." Danny's either bossy or overly polite, or both at the
same time. I like both attitudes so I forget to call him 'honey', not that
he cares now anyway.

On my side, facing Specks' bed, Danny's finger pushes lube in my asshole
and then his hand smears lube on my shoulder when he grabs it to hold me in
place as he pokes his hard cock head against my anus. With no hesitation
whatsoever, he humps it right in, and I mean a good four inches of it goes
up my ass and he did it hard too. Omigod! My back arches as I go, "Oooh!"
'cause it hurt but felt good at the same time. Haha, that reminded me for a
second of Squirrel's fast entrance and what a hot little shit he turned out
to be!

My Squirrel thought quickly exits my brain though as Danny's squirming
closer to me pushing the rest of his cock up my ass and already there's
hardly any pain. It happens like that now and then. Danny humps against my
buttocks, his pubic hairs tickling a little on both my butt cheeks. Again I
moan quietly at the indescribably excellent way it feels having six-inches
of hard cock in my ass. Another quiet moan of pleasure slips out of my
throat as Danny grunts and mutters, "I know, baby... I make you feel good,
don't I?" I moan and he mumbles, "Yeah, I know how much you love me fucking
you."

He humps hard against my buttocks then, and follows that by his hand
slapping on the side of my ass, "SMACK! SMACK!" and then twice more,
"SMACK! SMACK!" as I grunt, "Ahh, Danny," and he humps hard against my ass
again. Pre-cum plops out of my hard cock as I squirm back against Danny,
moaning, "Mmmm, oooh," at the exquisite sexual vibes swarming around my
brain, plus Danny's scent is strong 'cause I can tell he hasn't showered
recently. Not BO though, not yet, just a strong scent and some of that
needs-to-be-washed hair smell. Christ, his strong male-scent almost makes
me cum before he's even started fucking me.

Danny leaves his boner where it is and snuggles his face against the side
of my neck, his long hair against my cheek as he's kissing and licking one
spot on my neck, the same spot for a full minute. Yeah, he's giving me an
adolescent hickey and it stupidly turns me on even more. Goddamn, I've just
gotta stroke my boner and it's stroke, stroke, stroke and, oh man, does
this ever feel good until I'm like, "Ow! Dammit!" when Danny slaps the back
of my thigh leaving it stinging, and another "SMACK!" and I yelp. "OW!" and
he goes, "Well, don't touch yourself and you won't get spanked, okay?"

Oh, yeah, I'll say it's okay as a familiar submissive trance slides over my
brain and I get very docile. Danny says, "That's better. I've told you
before I want you to wait until I fuck your climax out of you, then you can
touch yourself." I make a gulping sound as my cock sort of jerks-out
straight and, oh Christ, Danny's arrogant bossiness almost made me shoot my
load again! I take my hand away and mutter, "Sorry." He humps again,
muttering, "No problem. Just do it the way I want." Grinning to myself, I
say, "Yes, Danny."

He bites the small swelling he's created on the side of my neck and I know
it's a Danny-hickey because it's stinging like mad. Not wanting to hear
another lecture, I don't complain, not that complaining would do me any
good anyway. I'd probably get my ass slapped again. Oh man, he's so sexy
and bossy though I'm really enjoying my partially self-inflicted submissive
trance... it's smooth and calming allowing the sexual parts to shine
through brilliantly. But who the fuck even gives hickeys at our age? Not
that I moved a muscle while he was doing it, you understand.

Another long lick over the small bump and then he pulls his cock back. As
always, he pulls it back seemingly too far and then waits a few seconds too
long. Even though I know better, I start thinking he's going to pull the
head out completely 'cause that's what it feels like... but, no, it doesn't
pull out this time or any other time. When Danny's ready he thrusts his
boner back up my ass and I go, "Oooh," and then the sounds I love to hear,
the "Smack, smack, smack," sounds of Danny slapping his crotch against my
ass, his six inches of hard cock traveling up my ass and immediately pulled
back, and up my ass and back, and oooh, it feels good! Yes, he begins
fucking me with long six-inch thrusts the way he usually does it, meaning
hard and fast with his entire six inches of bone-hard cock fully
involved. "Oooh, ooh, ooh, mmmm, Danny..."

Nothing feels better to me than getting fucked up my ass by someone who
knows how to do it just the right way for me. My crush on Danny was super
fun and sexy too, but this is better. Without the crush, it's much less
confusing for my poor overworked brain. I'm sure I'll remember the crush
fondly while continuing to have authentic uncomplicated buddy sex with
Danny... like this.

As usual, Danny's and my first fuck results in a too-fast orgasm. Fantastic
pleasure sensations stream in waves from my rectum as well as from my
supersensitized quivering boner, but those fabulous sexual sensations last
for only about two minutes, and then, "Eeeeeiiii, oooh!" as cum flies out
from my steel boner in a rush, a long stream of it sizzling out the
wide-open piss slit so fast I'm shuddering with pleasure... mind-blowing!
My cum stream falls just short of hitting the side of Speck's bed.

Danny's pulling on my shoulders, his crotch tight against my ass with him
making whining sounds of desperation as his hard boner fires warm creamy
cum into my bowels and then his fingers tighten on my shoulders even more
and another hump against my ass as, I suppose, more of his semen is
shooting up inside me. My orgasm was just the one long stream of cum this
time, kinda odd but I grab my cock and squeeze out drools of cum that make
me shiver with pleasure. God, that felt good!

I'm shaky for a few seconds and then it feels nice when Danny relaxes
behind me and puts his arm over my side to pull me against his chest. He
murmurs, "Was that okay for you?" He thrusts a few more times extra hard
and then he gasps and stops, as I go, "Mmmm, that felt fantastic." He goes,
"Good, and let me tell you, nobody's ass feels as good on my cock as
yours. That's the truth although I can't say exactly why that is. Strange,
huh?"

When he's pulling his cock out my whole body does another shudder and then
I drop onto my back, my head turns to face him. Fuck, he's cute! I want to
hug him and fill his head with compliments but I settle for touching the
side of his face, murmuring, "You fuck awesomely, Danny. Um, I just need to
tell you, um, that is... well, I'm sorry but I need to say something. Tell
you, um, remind you of something again, and it's this... while I do love
you as a special friend, it isn't ever going to be the in-love kind of love
you want. Nobody can make themselves love or not love someone, so it's not
you, it's me who is saving all my 'in-love' kind of love for Rob." He goes,
"You're a broken fuckin' record, ain't ya, baby! Stop it!" I go, "Okay, I'm
sorry for repeating myself." He says, "You're gonna have me believing you
if you don't watch out."

He pulls me almost on top of him and hugs me tightly for a full minute,
really tightly with his sexy scent extra strong, then he says, "Keep that
kind of talk to yourself, okay? Let me think whatever I want." I go,
"Okay."

Letting go of me, we're quiet for a few minutes and then he asks, "Do you
know what you're gonna do the week after graduation?" Before I can tell
him, he adds, "I was thinking that the four of us gay buddies could do
something together. You, Rob, Hayden and I could go someplace, like go to
the Cape, for example. You know, for a few days to celebrate graduating." I
say, "Yeah, I'd like to do that!" and then I tell him about the Las Vegas
plans and we agree that can easily be worked around and, yeah, the four of
us will go away together.

We talk awhile with me telling him about my two job interviews and then he
tells me more about his interview with some lady from the Framingham school
board, and we talk about being ready for our final exams starting tomorrow
and about him getting a completely renovated car from his mom's
boyfriend/fiancé as a graduation present and we ramble on for twenty
minutes or so as we're lying here side by side on his bed... it's nice
being with Danny talking about normal stuff.

Then, somehow, and I honestly think I started it, we get into the hottest
make out, our cocks as hard as wood poking each other here and there like
six-inch blunt poles as we wrestle, grunting and using every muscle we have
trying to get on top. It goes on for a few minutes before Danny goes,
"That's enough!" and he takes over, wrestling me roughly onto my back with
a little too much force... him on top. Holding my arms flat on the
mattress, a hand on each of my biceps Danny looks down at me from his
position with a knee on either side me, him leaning over me. He looks into
my eyes, jerking his head slightly, and I submissively pull my legs back as
far as I can. He nods his head at me, gives me a smirk and then his
spectacular six-inch boner enters my ass. No pain at all because my ass
never fully returned to its normally closed position. With a lot of his cum
still inside me plus the lube, his hard cock slid tightly but smoothly all
the way back in. Two deliberate thrusts and then he leaves it fully
impaling me again, his crotch tight against my buttocks and now the
dominant animal looks down at his whimpering, now very submissive defeated
wrestling opponent. He stares for another second into my eyes and, I don't
know, I submissively pull my legs back even more and then spread then as
wide as I can. Danny murmurs, "Yeah, that's better... stay just like that."

It's so awesome feeling dominated like this and waiting to be fucked. Danny
humps against my buttocks and I moan, "Mmmm." Another hump and, apparently
satisfied I'm appropriately submissive Danny pulls back his boner and
begins fucking me at a medium to slow speed and it goes on until I'm
worried I'll faint from the pure pleasure of it before I even get to
climax. Again I have the thought that my rectum must be more sensitized
than normal rectums. It has to be an anomaly, my ass must be because if
everyone's rectum reacted to a hard cock as mine does, every gay guy in the
world would want to be the 'bottom' during anal sex. My rectum is a freak
of nature in a good way.

And, oh man, I like a slow fuck like this once in a while. And Danny being
dominant about it always gives me that extra thrill. He does dominance
sweetly and naturally and, yes, just like Willie does it... both of them
doing it without ever thinking about doing it any other way. Omigod, my
climax builds very slowly and after five or six minutes it's hovering right
near the tipping point. My head's moving side to side as I whimper at the
need to climax. Danny murmurs, "Not yet, baby. I'll decide when..." and he
slows his thrusting to super-slow penetrations that take five or six
seconds each as I squirm under him, my legs still pulled back as far as I
can get them and spread so far apart it aches at my crotch, my feet
dangling and I'm as submissively docile as it's possible to be, exactly the
way my dominant sex partner insists I be, and it's fantastic! Again my
climax reaches the tipping point and I look pleadingly into Danny's eyes,
needing to cum so badly... he shakes his head a little and slows down his
already slow thrusting.

My boner is so hard it's sticking straight up trying to pull away from my
body like it's a rocket ready to take off at Cape Canaveral. Danny's eyes
are lightly closed now, his head back a little. He's making a quiet humming
sound as his hips move very slowly pushing and pulling his six hard-inches
of boner in my ass... the sensations coming from his slowly moving
rock-hard penis must feel wonderfully amazing to Danny.

With each slow thrust I whimper, "Um, um, um, ooh Danny..." and finally his
eyes pop open. Looking almost startled he finally gives in and begins fast
hard thrusting, probably because he can't hold off his climax any
longer. Ten seconds later with my back arching off the bed, I'm trying to
squeal but only an airy sound comes from my throat as my climax blasts up
from my balls and out my wanna-be-rocket-cock like worlds colliding and,
with Danny hovering over me my creamy cum stream splashes off his chest,
some of it coming down on my stomach as he climaxes, blowing another long
stream of his hot creamy cum up inside me.

Who in their right mind wouldn't want to be a buddy-sex buddy of Danny's?
And even though no one does it better than him, the reality is, as awesome
as it was this afternoon, it lacked that mysterious 'something extra
special' I sensed when I was deeply into crushing on him. The crush is gone
and I can't will it back, but holy shit it was really special while it
lasted. The plus side is... now I'm more relaxed. Ya know, it's like my
friggin' haircut fetish, I like it and don't like it at the same time.

We're lying together breathing like we're long-distance runners, cum
stickily between us as he lies on my chest actually gasping a little so I'm
assuming he had an excellent orgasm too. Danny finally stops doing
everything and lifts his head to look me in the eyes, murmuring, "Yeah,
well, I'll settle for this if I must, and apparently I'll need to settle
for it..." He slowly lifts up and then pulls back his hips and his cock
comes out of my ass making me go, "Ooh," as he's mumbling, "You do what you
want, but you know as well as I do nobody fucks you better than that... and
don't even bother to lie to me that they do."

As he gets off the bed, I say, "You're right, Danny, nobody does it better
than you." That's a lie of omission because I didn't say, 'except the guy
I'm in love with'. Sex with Danny is special, so if it makes him feel good
to think he's the best, what's the harm? He obviously is the best buddy-sex
buddy I've got since he's the only one I've got nowadays. That's a
smart-ass comment for me to make though... the truth is Danny's among the
very best of the best ever, and I've had more than my share so that's
saying something!

I'm getting out of bed as he's mumbling, to himself perhaps, "And no one
can make you as happy as I could." Avoiding that topic, I say, "Whaddaya
think? Maybe I should do your haircut today." He goes, "Haircut? No way!
Are you stupid? We already agreed it'll wait until next weekend." Okay, I
get that he's annoyed with me because of my 'talk' about there being no
chance he and I will be a 'couple', and I don't blame him for being
pissed-off at me. I've been unfairly leading him on for months, but at the
same time, I've repeatedly told him I'm never leaving Rob, right? Well,
haven't I? It's not all my fault.

We're quietly using Handi Wipes to clean up a little. Done with that, I
lean over and kiss his cheek and then murmur, "Thanks for a great
afternoon, Danny... and I like this haircut a lot." He shrugs and waves his
hand as though... it's no big deal. After we get dressed and I'm about to
leave we mutter good luck to each other for success in our final exams. We
say that as if we're regular friends even though we're much more than
that... what exactly though, I guess neither of us is sure of now.

As I walk outside and then down to the pickup I'm feeling bad, really bad
about how I selfishly let our relationship develop into something that
couldn't possibly work, and now apparently Danny's finally giving up on his
fantasy about us. To make myself feel better I could claim it was totally
unrealistic of him to think that could ever happen in the first place. I
mean, what the hell was he thinking, ya know? But that's unfair because I
wondered at times myself if maybe it might happen. This is far from the
first time I've had the thought that love hurts. It hurts those who are
brave enough to take a chance on it, and I'm referring to Danny, not
myself. I'm obviously not taking a chance on his love, but it hurts me too
because it hurts him... and I care about him. But, yeah, mostly it's hurt
him. What good does it do to beat myself up any further about it though?

And then I think, c' mon, no need to worry about Danny. He's too special
and too attractive to not eventually hook up with a guy who he'll lose his
heart to. It'll be something very special for that unknown guy, that lucky
guy who wins Danny. And Danny's not the type to screw around on the side of
his true love like, embarrassingly, I've done. Sure, I know these kinds of
thoughts are me rationalizing my guilt away somewhat... but what the fuck
else can I do?

After a five-minute drive, I'm parking the pickup at the apartments and sit
there going over it again... and it isn't all my fault, and it's not over
between us anyway. Danny and I can still be sex buddies for, um, I don't
know how much longer. He didn't even hint he doesn't want to do that. We're
both adjusting to our new situations. Life is constant adjustments, right?

Bringing the bag with three bottles of liquor, I get out of the pickup,
lock it, and go up to the apartment. Inside I see Carl making an icepack
for Rob who's walking gingerly back from the bathroom. He sees me, stops
and, chuckling, he says, "I see you got a haircut, did Danny?" I go, "Nah,
next weekend. I wanted to get my bangs cut 'cause they were stupid long and
Danny, of course, did an entirely new haircut. Then we talked about his
job. Tom Brooker's father got Danny a job in the Framingham School District
and blah, blah, blah." Robby mutters, "And he talked you into doing his
haircut later." I go, "That's about it, yeah."

Then, more seriously, he's like, "So, what's wrong, babe?" I go, "Whaddaya
mean? Nothing's wrong... why'd you ask me that?" He says, "I can tell
something is bothering you." Shaking my guilty head, I go, "Nah, it's just
that everything is happening too fast, all at the same time, ya know?" Then
to get off this subject, I tell him, "Hey, Danny has a good idea for
once. He wants you, me, him, and Hayden to go to the Cape for a few days
after graduating."

Carl's holding up the ice pack, mumbling, "It's ready Rob." Robby's gently
sitting back down on the sofa, saying, "The Cape, huh? Ya know, we should
do that. Yeah, that's a damn good idea! We won't be starting work until the
middle of the summer." Carl says, "I'm going to miss you guys so much!" I
start to say something wiseass to tease him, but holy shit, a couple of
tears roll down his cheeks. I hug him and he hugs back, the icepack he's
holding making a cold wet spot on my shirt now... and then right through to
my back. Jesus!

Rob says, "Hey, c'mon, Carl, take it easy, buddy. Hell, we only live an
hour's drive from here. We'll come up to visit you a couple of
weekends... or, better yet, we'll bring your vegetarian ass back with us
for the weekend." Carl goes, "Really? That'd be awesome... and I'll have a
car next year too. You won't even need to pick me up." I go, "There ya go,
Carl. We'll probably be friends forever!" He says, "That makes me feel
better about things. Thanks, guys. Um, and I do have both your phone
numbers so if you forget your promise, well... I guess I'll be stalking you
guys." We both chuckle 'cause he's kidding, right?

Yeah, but what if Rob and I are living and working in Falmouth? That would
be over a two-hour drive each way from Merrimack, and much longer on
weekends starting in the spring... and forget about summer traffic on the
Cape. I say, "Yo Rob, how certain is the Falmouth thing?" Robby shrugs,
"Well, actually, it's mostly just a guess on my part, Dylan. Let's say, um,
a sixty percent possibility, or... I don't even know why I said that. I
mean, I haven't heard dad say anything about us being in Falmouth for
months now. I guess we could just as likely be working in the Westborough
office, which doesn't seem so bad actually. I know I won't be working in
the Framingham office because dad doesn't want anyone accusing him of
nepotism." Is he joking?

Rob takes the ice pack from Carl, mumbling, "We'll find out where we'll be
working next week." I like the direction this is going 'cause I hope it's
not Falmouth. Carl stays for dinner, naturally. For Rob and me I roast a
chicken, a three and a half pound chicken that'll give us leftovers for
chicken salad that I'll make for lunch next week. As for Carl, I make him
fried shrimp, spicy cocktail sauce, and then he'll have the mashed
potatoes, corn, and coleslaw Rob and I will have with the chicken. Plus, of
course, Carl's two rolls and the quarter pound of butter he puts on the
rolls... slight exaggeration there. Vegetarians are basically a pain in the
ass for the cook.

Monday, Rob and I again review for Tuesday's two final exams. No more
icepacks needed because the swelling in Rob's leg has gone down but he's
still sore and he's staying off his feet as much as possible. As we're
putting away the study guide Rob gets a call from Dottie, Mr. Dickers'
administrative assistant. She's setting up meetings for our follow-up
interviews. We have the two finals exams on Tuesday and then the last one
is Thursday morning, so on Wednesday, Rob tells me, we'll drive to the
Dickers & Son's offices for eleven o'clock interviews. That's when they'll
offer us positions with the company.

Around three o'clock Monday Pony calls me. He's all geeked up saying he
nailed the final exams he took today and he's wondering if I would give him
a ride into town so he can buy a few things. This is code telling me his
roommate, Donald, will be leaving their room for at least an hour, but he's
there now and therefore the bogus request of a ride. I tell Robby about
Pony needing a ride to town and he asks me to pick up the latest ESPN
magazine for him, which now means Pony and I actually will need to drive
into town to get the magazine.

We don't do that first though. I go to Pony's dorm room and spank his bare
ass bright red and then fuck his brains out with him on all fours. My
guilty conscience about mishandling my buddy sex with Danny the past six
months is still in my head, so I wanna at least be true to Pony's buddy sex
desires. I feel good about not letting him down, at least, plus Rob isn't
able to perform his 'my man' duties due to his present condition, so it
felt good fucking Pony and having a pretty hot climax myself. A win-win
situation.

After that hot interlude, Pony and I drive, not downtown, but to the Rite
Aid drugstore for Rob's magazine. I'm hoping they'll have it there but I
also wanna see if that uber-cute register boy is working today so I can
harmlessly flirt with him a little, but again he's not working. He's never
working any day I'm in the friggin' drugstore. They do have the magazine
though, so there's that.

Nothing special the rest of the day and then on Tuesday Rob and I take
final exams, two of them, and they're both a walk in the park. The hardest
thing about the exams was Rob walking from the pickup to the classrooms. I
drove the pickup as close as I could get to the buildings the exams were at
and then Rob took little steps the rest of the way while I parked and then
met him inside.

After both finals, we merely smirked at one another the same way we did for
the midterms. There's a lot to be said for keeping on top of our studies
all semester 'cause studying for exams becomes much more doable. Except for
the exams, Rob is pretty much confined to the sofa and I gotta give him
props for not doing much bitching about his condition lately. I think it's
the prospects of finishing college that has us both in good moods. And, of
course, we're both kinda anxious to find out what's in store for us at
work. We've been talking about that a lot and even though we're not
thrilled about Westborough, we're now both thinking we'd rather work there
than in Falmouth.

Yeah, working and living in Falmouth on the Cape at first sounded wicked
cool, but living in that super condo, actually it's a townhouse, is what
we're now hoping for. The town of Westborough isn't so bad and Falmouth is
too far away from where we feel comfortable, meaning the familiar
surroundings of our hometown of Framingham. It's not 'that' far from
Westborough.

Tuesday, after dinner, Danny texts me asking if I could give him a ride to
Rolf's Bar. Some of his friends were supposed to pick him up but, shocker,
Danny wasn't ready when they got there and they left without him. When I
tell Rob what I'm doing he gives me his raised eyebrow expression and then
asks me how long I'll be. He's been in a take-charge, almost bossy mood
lately but I figure it's partially because he's hurting with his leg injury
and missing the last baseball games and whatnot. Anyway, I tell him not
long. Obviously, he assumes Danny and I will be engaging in buddy sex, and
I suppose normally we would, but that isn't the 'vibe' I got from Danny's
conversation. I picked up the 'vibe' that... he needs a ride to Rolf's
Bar. Simple as that.

That's what it turns out to be too and I'm happy to do it because I wanna
see if he's mad at me because of our new 'understanding', our acceptance of
how things are between us. He sort of acknowledged his acceptance of that
on Sunday. When I pick him up, I'm relieved to find Danny is, um, like he
always is, or usually is, meaning he's a little goofy and more than a
little youthfully cute. He was right there waiting for me at the end of
dormitory row and when he got in the pickup we did a hug over the gearshift
and then he's swiping his hair out of his eyes complaining I should have
done his haircut Sunday, which is an insane comment considering the
discussion we had regarding that, but more importantly it's the crazy sort
of thing I expect from Danny and I'm don't notice any negativity from him
about our 'understanding'.

In Rolf's parking lot, Danny glances around and then pulls my head over to
do a fast kiss, saying, 'Thanks for the ride, baby." He apparently has
excellent recuperative powers to go along with all his other extraordinary
qualities. I smile and say, "Thank you, Danny," meaning thanks for being
cool about the other day and he recognizes my meaning and gives me a smirk,
mumbling, "We're good, Dylan. We're always gonna be best buddies... you'll
see."

As I drive back to the apartment I feel really good about that short
exchange with Danny... it was perfect. Yeah, Danny's awesome! I'm taking
what he said at face value. Christ, I'm so relieved we're still friends,
friends like we've been for months now... except a tiny bit different!

Wednesday I drive Rob and me to the Dickers & Son offices leaving early
enough to ensure we'll make our eleven o'clock appointments. I'm driving
because Rob's leg movement is still restricted somewhat although his injury
has improved enough that he can get around. We arrive at the office
thirty-five minutes early and then have bad coffees in the cafeteria. I'm
more nervous I'll see Mr. Trimbole than I am about getting offered a job. I
haven't seen Mr. T. so far and I pray to God I don't...

Whatever job is offered me I'm gonna have a positive outlook and be
grateful for it because I now know the Rider Group is not an option.

We only wait a couple of minutes before the same HR person, Pat, gets me
from the receptionist area. I get up with a semi-smile on my face and Robby
mumbles, "See ya soon, Dylan." Pat and I are going through the door toward
her office when I hear the receptionist tell Rob to meet Dottie in the
executive offices. Nepotism strikes again as Rob skips the HR person and
talks directly with the company's owner... his dad.

Pat's very friendly as she chats about the weather walking with me to her
office. We sit down and she asks me a few innocuous questions about my
final exams and how I've been and then asks if I have any questions for
her, which I do not. She goes, "Well, Dylan, now you're going to meet my
boss, Bill Britain. He's the executive VP for Human Resources in charge of
all HR personnel in all three offices and he'd like to interview YOU!" Oh,
I'm supposed to be flattered, so I go, "Really? That's great..." She
smiles, saying, "Yes, and that's the only interview we have scheduled for
you today." I nod my head enthusiastically.

Huh, I nodded enthusiastically although I don't know if no further
interviews is a good sign or a bad one. The HR boss being the only person
I'll be meeting might have a negative-thinking person wondering if this
will be a kiss-off interview, and it does make me wonder for a second, but
let's be serious. Would Mr. D. actually have the balls not to offer me a
job considering Robby would go ballistic if I'm not working for this
company? I don't think so. And, Mr. D. told me how much he and Mrs. D. like
me, plus he said I should put his name on my application as a referral. For
those reasons, I'm not nervous about being offered a job because I'm
positive I will be offered one. It's the particular job I'm offered that
makes me a little nervous.

Pat stands, so I do too. She says, "It's been a real pleasure getting to
know a little about you, Dylan," and that's all she says as we go upstairs
to the executive offices where she does a courtesy knock on the molding
around Mr. Britain's open door. I follow her in as she's saying, "Here's
Dylan Newman, Bill, right on time." He stands up with a big smile on his
face, saying, "Thank you, Pat. Hi, Dylan, I'm Bill Britain," as he holds
out his hand, adding, "It's a pleasure to meet you." I smile and shake his
hand and then he waves at the two guest chairs in front of his desk,
saying, "Have a seat, please."

Pat leaves, and as she's closing the door behind her, Bill says, "I've read
your application twice, Dylan. Read it twice because it was, um, unusual in
some ways." He's probably referring to Mr. Dickers being my main
reference. He continues, "Knowing I was going to meet with you this morning
I decided I'd better have a chat over a cup of coffee with Robert, Robert
Dickers, who I believe you know quite well." He smiles at me again, and it
appears he expects me to say something now, so I say, "Yes, Sir, I know
Mr. Dickers from living with the family, but I wouldn't say I know him, um,
quite well."

He chuckles at that for some reason and then leans forward and puts a
serious expression on his face, saying, "Robert has an extremely high
opinion of you, Dylan. And, yes, I know you've been living with the family
but that wouldn't affect Robert's opinion of your potential as a valuable
addition to our staff. He is very serious about this company he's built
from scratch, and all of us are very happy he is serious about
it... hahaha."

I try grinning because he's chuckling but my grin may have looked more like
a grimace, as Bill continues, "I was very intrigued by that naturally, and
he had a good suggestion. He suggested I read the various reports regarding
the job you did for us last summer. Of course, I was on top of that touchy
benefits project at the time, although not directly. It was delegated to
the HR manager for our office here, as you know. So, to refresh my memory,
I reread the reports and oh my goodness! Well, I was very impressed all
over again with how well you handled yourself. So impressed I'm offering
you a management training position within my department, Human
Resources. The position has a starting salary of $50,000, which is the
industry average although we'll adjust it upward here at Dickers & Son
within six months." Human-fucking-Resources?

I blink my eyes thinking... well I'll be Goddamn! Mr. D. was serious when
he mentioned me in the HR department weeks ago. It was already decided and
my interviews have been basically a sham. This, this thing with Bill wasn't
even an interview! Robby and I both hated the idea of me in the HR
department back then and I don't like it any better now. I'm not HR
material with all the big golly-gee-whizz smiles that Bill is putting on. I
bet he uses the same big smiles while telling an applicant... 'So sorry,
but you're not good enough, pal. Hit the road.'

No, I'm not HR material, I'm something else. Hmm, come to think of it, I
don't know what I'd be good at or what I'd choose to do even if I had the
choice. Fuck it though! Be positive! All those thoughts zipped through my
brain in an instant as Bill's asking, "How do you feel about that, Dylan?"
I go, "Thank you, so much, Mr. Britain! That's very exciting!" He says,
"It's great to hear you say that." What the fuck did he think I was gonna
say?

He says, "Excellent! We have you penciled in replacing Art Pritchard, who's
currently our HR interviewer in Westborough. That office is growing and we
need a district manager there. That's the position we see you filling after
your training period." I try looking positive and now Bill's looking at
some notes so I squint my eyes and make out something written at the border
of the application. The one I filled out last week. I recognize Mr. Dickers
illegible handwriting but can't read it. Bill Britain says, "Well, it looks
as though Robert has a note here, um, that... let me try to read this... oh
yes. You'd be starting August first," and he looks at me with his eyebrows
up, expectantly and I go, "Of course I accept this wonderful opportunity
and I won't let you down, Mr. Britain." He smiles hard and says, "Please,
I'm Bill... call me Bill. We're informal here at Dickers & Son. I'm looking
forward to having you on my team, Dylan." Thanks, Coach! No, I don't say
that.

I don't say anything because he stands up, so I do too. Jesus, this was so
fast! He says, "Pat has some forms for you to fill out and then enjoy the
weeks you'll have off after graduating. Then, Dylan," with a big insincere
smile on his face, he adds, "And then be ready to hit the ground running
with your nose to the grindstone." We shake hands again as I'm thinking I
should probably memorize some trite clichés like that 'grindstone'
one, and the 'hit the ground running' thingie.

Backing up a couple of steps, I say, "Thank you so much," before turning
around and walking quickly downstairs to Pat's office not sure how I should
feel about this, but I know Rob's gonna be pissed off!

The forms I need to sign are for benefits and whatnot and then I'm outside
like twenty minutes after sitting down in the reception area. It happened
so fast it's hard to process what happened. Well, obviously, I have some
uncertainty about the HR thing, and what Rob's gonna say about it, and I
hate the possibility of conflict before I even start working, and... oh
balls! I'm not sure what to think, so I ever need a smoke!

Yeah, after the fact, I'm now feeling a little bit stressed out so I sneak
a cigarette behind the pickup waiting for Robby. I'm 'sneaking' the smoke
behind the truck because Rob told me some time ago that his dad doesn't
want employees smoking on company property. Hiding here smoking is breaking
a rule which isn't probably what most HR District Managers would do after
just getting hired, but what the fuck... who's gonna have the balls to fire
me?

Oh, hell, as reality sets in, I'm just glad to have a job. So what if I'm
not especially thrilled about being in HR? Yeah, and what if he said sales?
I'd be worse as a salesman! Hmm, is $50,000 a year good or bad? I don't
know but I wonder if that HR guy was telling the truth that Mr. Dickers
said I have great potential? I already know he likes me as a person, which
makes me feel good. I sure hope the other part wasn't HR bullshit. How
would I find out if it's true? Oh, I know, I'll ask Mr. Dickers. No, I
won't!

Oh, good, here comes Robby now. This hiring process has been way quicker
than I expected! But, shit, what's Rob gonna say about me being an HR
asshole?

After stepping on my cigarette butt, I walk around the pickup grinning
sheepishly, saying, "I got hired." Robby laughs, "Yeah, shocker... haha!"
Robby adds, "I got hired too but as a trainee. Jesus that blows though!
I've been working with managers for two years and dad says, to keep it
consistent with new hires, I'll go through a trainee period. It's not
perfect, not what I expected, but it's only for a couple of months and
there's the small matter of $60,000 a year, which is a good starting
salary, and I'll get a raise in a couple of months, so... not horrible." I
nod, but I'm not acting excited so he rubs my shoulders and adds, "Hey,
baby, it's cool. You're disappointed too, huh? It's because of the HR
thing, right? Hey, that's a better spot for you than you think,
Dylan. Let's stop somewhere and have a coffee, okay? I've got good news
about that." How did he already know I got hired in HR? Well, duh,
obviously his dad told him.

Getting in the pickup, I'm smiling to myself remembering how Robby sneered
at the very idea I'd be working in HR. That was a month or so ago when he
expected me to be a management trainee working under him. Now that his dad
informed Rob he too is a mere trainee and, therefore, has zero say as to
what department I'll be working in, Rob's changed his tune. It's the tried
and true strategy of... if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So now Rob thinks
HR is a good place for me. Hey, maybe it is.

I'm driving us to the Dunkin' Donuts shop near the Framingham Mall on Route
9. Yeah, I know they changed their name to just 'Dunkin' and dropped the
Donuts, but I still think of it as Dunkin' Donuts the way I have for
twenty-two years. We're going to drink our coffees and eat donuts inside so
we can talk about these latest developments in our lives.

I bite into a donut that has super-sweet artificial strawberry-flavored
icing as Rob's saying, "Here's the whole picture as dad explained it to
me. We'll both be training here at the Framingham office for a few
months. You in the HR office, obviously. I'll be training first with Neal
Targarian who's the Framingham office's office-manager currently, and then
I'll spend time training with each of the department managers because next
fall I'll be the Westborough office manager. The current Westborough
manager, I forget his name, is getting the Falmouth office manager's
job. The current HR representative in Westborough, who is NOT a manager is
being transferred to Falmouth as well. You'll replace him but as the HR
District Manager, so we'll be together as I promised you."

I knew some of that from Bill. I nod and mumble, "I'm relieved we'll be in
the same office" and Robby goes, "And it gets better too. The Westborough
office is about to get a lot bigger. Dad told me the company won the bid on
a sixty new-homes project beginning next fall in Hopkinton, which is a town
eight miles from Westborough. That project will last two years and the
Westborough office is moving to a larger office building to accommodate the
extra hires that'll be necessary for this latest project... and you'll be
the HR manager in charge of getting that done! Cool, huh?"

Good for Robby. I actually will be working not only with him but sort of
for him too. His office manager position is a higher paygrade than my
district manager position, which is what I'll apparently be in the
Westborough office assuming no one catches me smoking on company property
before then.

Rob goes, "As Westborough's office manager I won't have much to do about
hiring. Ya know, just like dad does for all HR hires, I'll mostly just
sign-off on whatever you send me for approval. Your first hire in
Westborough will be hiring an HR interviewer to replace the one going to
Falmouth. Someone who will work for you. He or she will do all the initial
grunt work, the screening of applicants, the paperwork, and whatever. Well,
you know 'cause you and I just went through the process. Anyway, whoever
you hire will send only the applicants with good job potential for hiring
to you and then you'll interview them and give your yea or nay and forward
the 'yeas' to me to basically rubber-stamp your decision. And, obviously,
there's much more to your HR manager's job than that, and you'll learn all
about it during your training period. So, it's awesome we'll be working
together pretty much exclusively until, um, ah, you know until
circumstances change."

After letting that sink in a few seconds, I'm like, "Did you use the word
'circumstances' as a euphemism for when one of us gets a surrogate woman
pregnant?" He says, "Um, well, yeah, so to speak. Heh heh, the chances of
you getting pregnant are slim so we'll need the surrogate, um, woman or
whatever the proper term is for her. Your career at Dickers & Son probably
won't be more than eighteen months to twenty-four months." I go, "Really?"

Robby makes a 'face' as if he's irritated, and says, "Babe, why would you
say... 'really' like that? I mean, you know it's been in our plans for a
couple of years to have a family, right? Um, you've told me a number of
times that you agree with all of that." I sort of nod and mutter, "Um,
pretty much, yeah," and Robby grins now, and goes, "Okay then, and, oh
Christ, babe, do you remember that time I got silly and gave you an
engagement ring? That's actually when I first laid out my plans for
us. When was that... um, like maybe two-and-a-half years ago? Remember?" I
shrug, muttering, "I don't know," and he says, " I was definitely getting
ahead of myself back then, haha. But the point is, you confirmed just
recently you wanted to do all our plans so, um, you still do... don't you?
I mean now that we're finally at the starting gate."

I'm thinking about that. Of course, he's right about me telling him fifty
times that he needs to be in charge, be our leader, and that I agreed with
everything he wants, but this shit is happening too quickly. Plus, he said
'our' plans when they're actually all 'his' plans. Hmm, he is our leader
though, and a couple of times I definitely told him I'm on board with it
all...and he believed me, huh?

Glancing at him, I see his familiar conscientious expression, so maybe
we're both thinking this is our moment of truth. Is there ever a 'moment of
truth' in life, really? Well, let me think... who in this world has stood
by me through thick and thin, through every kind of disloyalty by me while
he's turned his other cheek? Who told me he'd wait for me to love him, and
then did that as I flirted with thoughts of Willie and then Ryan and lately
Danny, plus who's proved he's true to me months ago by discontinuing his
side sex, an activity he liked doing as much as I do? Who do I trust to
make me feel loved and safe and taken care of, and who else in their right
mind would even do all those things for me?  Well, Chubby is perfect except
for the obvious sexual part... and that's a huge part! It's Robby, of
course. My man, Rob.

And then there's the gigantic factor in all this and it's that I'm in love
with him! All that is true, BUT... is it necessary I go along with ALL
Rob's dreams of a lifetime? Well, why not? I don't have any better ones
myself. And I did tell Rob I was good with everything a couple of times
already, and what's a guy worth if you can't take him at his word?

Robby goes, "Was that a hard question, Dylan? Has something changed that I
don't know about?" I go, "What? Oh, I thought that was a rhetorical
question. No, I haven't changed my mind. Yeah, of course! Jesus, I must
have told you that ten times already." He smiles, so I overdo it, adding,
"We both can't be 'the man', the one who's making all the decisions,
although there will be many things we'll decide together but, ya know when
things get to the push-comes-to-shove-stage you're gonna need to decide."
He grins and mumbles, "Yes, I know, and I'm happy to do that for us,
Dylan. I knew your word was gold! I knew I could trust what you
said... seriously, I knew it." I go, "Well, don't act so relieved then."

He does a little nervous chuckle and then he looks at me, saying, "Well,
when you hesitated, um..." I ignore that and say, "It's Westborough for us,
Robby. I can't wait until our condo/townhouse is finished." He says, "It is
a townhouse, babe. Two floors and a basement with a private entrance. Our
entire building will be like that, eight or ten townhouses in a row, um,
connected, and so are half the buildings in the complex. The others are
condos." I nod, "Cool! Hey, I was reading a story about the fifties and the
main character said he lives in a 'row home'. I wonder how that was
different than our townhouse?" Rob shrugs, "I have no idea."

Rob drinks his coffee and asks, "Do you wanna drive over there and see the
progress they've made." I'm like, "Yeah, I'd like to see it again," and Rob
tells me, "Our townhouse is in the best building... the last one in the
project." I go, "Yeah, I know." Rob adds, "When that building is finished
Dickers & Son construction moves on to other projects and then our
maintenance division takes over. They have the contract for the property's
grounds, lawns, shrubs, and so forth. So it'll be our Westborough office's
responsibility."

We both drink some coffee and then I'm like, "Hey, maybe a new set of
Bobbsey Twins will be on our lawn-cutting crew, like the two of us were. Ya
know, they'll fall in love outside our balcony as we're watching them!" He
laughs, "I doubt there's anyone who could play the spectacular Bobbsey Twin
you played, babe." I go, "That's the kind of bullshit you need to tell your
wife, Rob. Haha, wife..." He goes, "Ha, you as my wife. Lucky me, huh?" I
give him a funny 'look' because he didn't dismiss the 'wife'
terminology. Why do I give him ideas?  But... no, he's not thinking that.

Rob bites into a cinnamon donut; then, with cinnamon sugar on his lips, he
goes, "The new Westborough housing project will be simultaneously in
progress with the Falmouth project, and that big motherfucker it will get
most of the attention so we're gonna be mostly on our own, Dylan." I go,
"That's perfect," and he says, "I think so too, but starting in October
you'll need to hire like twenty office staff immediately and, oh yeah, dad
told me because of the Falmouth project being a priority our Westborough
office will be hiring the builders for the sixty-plus
homes... subcontractors and so forth. That'll be a first for a satellite
office. I'm like, October, you say?" He nods, "Yeah, the sixty-house
project is scheduled to start next January so we'll have a tight schedule."

I'm like, "So, you're saying our training period will be completed by
October, huh?" He goes, "Yeah, they never last six months. You, plus
whoever you hire to be the office's HR interviewer, will both need to
attend a three-week course in Maryland about the building industry that
will run in November. As I said, tight schedule. You'll learn hiring
strategy for subcontractors, things to watch out for, and then legal shit
involving the government agencies that oversee construction and so
forth. All that shit will be covered during that three weeks seminar, so
that's probably not gonna be a lot of fun, but..."

Rob goes on to tell me a little more about that, which sounds like it'll
suck big time, but here's one undeniable and awesome fact of our lives and
it's that my $50,000 a year salary and Rob's $60,000 adds up quite nicely
for starting our household together, and we'll be getting raises in a few
months as well.  I'm already thinking BMW convertible, but I'll need to see
what my leader thinks about that. Seriously, the longer I think about
everything, I'm good with all this shit!

We finish our coffees and donuts and visit the construction site. Lots of
activity going on but nobody seems to mind that I drive right up close to
the building our townhouse will be in. There's only a foundation laid so
far. Overall though, the rest of this complex is amazingly built-up from
the last time we were here. Six buildings already have people living in
them. I like 'new' and everything looks new here! That's because it is
new. The building our townhouse will be in is at the edge of the
development overlooking the large man-made pond and away from the hustle
and bustle of the clubhouse and pool area.

Actually, I forgot that this complex is the reason there is a Dickers & Son
Westborough office. Since opening, they've added additional projects in the
area, and now the one consisting of sixty-some new homes that Rob and I
will be dealing with. Holy shit!

Anyway, we're gonna live here. Our townhouse is an end one and will
eventually have a big balcony looking out at the pond that is rather
huge... actually it's almost a lake. They had to build the pond to account
for water run-off from the largely forested hills designated as wetlands a
couple of hundred yards in front of our building. You need a good
imagination to picture the current cement structure eventually housing ten
six-room townhouses.

We can't walk around because of Rob's groin injury so, after gawking at
what will be our home for like ten minutes, I ask, "Seen enough, Rob?" He
goes, "Yeah, it'll start looking like these other buildings in a month or
so." I go, "I hope so," and then I begin driving us back to North Andover.

We're rolling along on Route 495 as Rob's enthusiastically reiterating all
his, I mean, our plans of a lifetime. And, oh man, he's doing an admirable
job of rationalizing away any negatives we previously had about living in
Westborough and me working in Human Resources... it's all positivity now!
Glancing over at Rob, and gee, he looks so cutely handsome when he's this
excited about something. I can almost see the boy I fell in love with long
ago. It's his grin... that's what makes him look almost innocent, almost
naïve. Ha! Rob's not innocent or naïve, but I like that he
can still appear that way at times. That's how we both used to be, and with
shyness thrown it to make things more difficult for us back then. Look at
us now though!

We arrive at the apartment a little after one o'clock this Wednesday
afternoon and when we get inside Robby hugs me and then kisses me on the
lips, murmuring, "I'm so happy, babe. Aren't you?" I nod, "Yes, of course,
but I'm always a little more apprehensive than you when contemplating a
million new things to deal with in the coming weeks... things I've never
experienced before." He's beaming as he says, "Forget that, I take care of
it. Damn, you're looking so cute today in your suit. I'll bet all the HR
people are talking about how good looking you are! "

I'm like, "Thanks, but it's more likely Pat and Bill are talking behind
their hands about the boss's son and his boyfriend getting special
treatment." Robby makes a 'face', "They better not be. And, anyway, they
don't even know about us being boyfriends." I go, "You know what, Rob? I'll
bet everyone in that office, every single person knows about us. Not that I
give a shit... just saying. Office gossip is legendary and I mean any
office. Christ, everybody knows that."

Robby goes, "Maybe you're right, but since you're not into the office
gossip yet, you might be surprised to hear that Bill Britain, the head HR
honcho who just interviewed you is gay, and so was one of the managers in
that meeting you sat in on when dad had his bad back." I'm frowning,
muttering, "You're shitting me, right?" Robby goes, "Nope, maybe because
dad has a gay son, but a few years ago the company encouraged gay hires, or
more like not disqualifying because a person appears gay...ones who are
qualified that is. I'm not exactly sure what was said in the meeting about
that but I do know we have like twenty-five gays out of three hundred
employees. Not great, but not bad either. And I only know that from
reading, um, a few printouts I saw on dad's desk at home when he had the
back injury."

My eyes open wide as I go, "That's kinda cool but you pulling my chain
about Bill Britain being gay, right? And who was the homo at the meeting I
was in?" Robby laughs, muttering, "Homo," and then he goes, "It's Steve
Burton, the balding guy who didn't have much to say... he's the homo
although managers at Dickers and Son try to steer away from that particular
pejorative designation. No, seriously though Steve's really a good guy and
I was gonna mention that he's gay after the meeting. I don't know, I never
told you 'cause something happened. Anyway, no I wasn't kidding about Bill
being gay, but he's been with Dickers & Son for ten years now." I'm like,
"Well, thanks for mentioning that bit of information, Rob." He goes, "Hell,
I didn't know you'd be interviewing with him. When dad told me that's who
you're interviewing with it's the first time I've thought of it though. I
met his wife once. He works at that Jiffy Lube on Broadway down from
Friendly's Restaurant." I'm like, "No shit? Um, his wife?" Rob goes, "Yeah,
he's a big fucker who Bill introduced as his wife, Rick."

Damn, I'm shocked the HR boss is gay! My boss! Can't hurt my chances for a
nice increase, haha! No seriously, but Jesus, I didn't detect any signals
from him at all that he's gay, or that he knew I'm gay. I'm like "So, Rob,
you say he calls his married partner... wife? The big dude who works at
Jiffy Lube..." Rob says, "Yeah, I ran into them downtown when I was getting
that shitty haircut that time I had to go home unexpectedly 'cause dad got
hurt. Those two were coming out of a restaurant and Bill introduced the guy
as his 'wife'. Rick shook my hand and the way those two acted it all seemed
kinda normal to me. Walking away, I thought... wow, that was something!
Eye-opening, ya know?"

No, I don't think I do know. I sort of shrug making a 'face', muttering,
"Huh, that's, um..." and Robby goes, "Why that 'look', babe? Would it
bother you if I introduced you as my wife?" I abruptly look up at him and
Rob chuckles, and goes, "What... why are you looking at me like that?" I
shrug, shaking my head, muttering, "You'd probably get 'off' introducing me
like that at some office cocktail party, wouldn't you?"

Rob comes over and puts his arms around me, saying, "Ya know, maybe I
would." He didn't back off of the 'wife' thing... again. Damn, that makes
my dick quiver. He's changed his mind, and now he likes the idea of us
being 'husband' and 'wife', is that it? Well, there are gay couples who
consider themselves husband and wife nowadays, gays and lesbians, but I've
only noticed that the past few years.

Will I be Robby's wife someday in the future... in a year or two maybe? I'm
not saying anything, so Rob says in a serious, manner, "And don't you worry
about the new things we'll both be doing in the coming months... and there
won't be a million of them! They'll be a few is all and, Dylan, let me
worry about everything. No need for you to be apprehensive because I'm
gonna take care of, um, whatever. Just tell me about it and I'm on it like
white on rice." Yeah, sure...

It's great he thinks that and I know it's partially true he can deal with
most things, but nobody can take care of 'everything' for someone. That's
idiotic, although it'd be pretty cool to think he could... haha. Grinning,
I say in a cartoon voice, "Yes, take care of me, daddy." He raises his
eyebrows and says, "You joke, but that's exactly what I'm going to do, but
as your husband, not your daddy. Now, how about some lunch? It's getting
late." I look at my watch... twenty minutes after one. Huh, this husband
and wife designations appear to be a topic for discussion. It's always
something, ya know?

In some weird way though it almost seems okay. Hell, I'm the one who calls
Robby 'my man' all the time. I've done it so often he's even agreeing with
it now. I'm not prepared right now, however, to get into a debate about it,
so I mutter, "Um, lunch, right... let's go out to eat, and maybe have a
couple of Manhattans." Robby grins, saying, "Manhattans? Oh my, even though
people tell us Manhattans are for old people?" I'm still thinking about the
husband and wife shit, so I just shrug, muttering, "Yeah, I guess we should
stick with shots and beers so we don't rock the boat." Robby chuckles and
says, "Well, fuck 'em! How about Burton's for lunch? They make a good
Manhattan there."

While I'm driving us there, I think about something besides being a wife,
I'm thinking how Danny was so very 'cool', very okay about, um, our new
'understanding'. I want to stay close to him as friends... like he said. So
I'm like, "Yo, Rob, this is off topic but when we're living in Westborough
we can still go to Danny's for haircuts, right? I mean, why wouldn't we?"
He hesitates and then goes, "Let me think about that, babe." I go, "It's
only like a thirty-or-forty-minute drive from Westborough and we could
visit our folks afterward." He goes, "Well, if you remember, we weren't
much further during our four years at Merrimack and how often did we visit
our parents?" I go, "Yeah, but..." Robby asks, "What are you thinking about
having for lunch?" I guess we'll talk about Danny's garage barbershop
later.

Yep, lunch at the most expensive restaurant in town, and it does turn out
to be a two Manhattan lunch. The waiter didn't think we were too young to
drink Manhattans... I mean after he checked our IDs... haha. Then, Rob's
enthusiasm for our plans about working and living in our townhouse becomes
contagious, especially now that it's actually close to being a reality so I
join in planning our ideal life and then, empowered by my second Manhattan,
I say, "I'm curious, Robby, um, that husband and wife thing you mentioned
back at the apartment. Are you serious about that?"

Rob snorts out a chuckle and says, "As you know, Dylan, I've actually never
thought it was important, but if it's not especially important one way,
doesn't that work both ways? Whaddaya think?" I shrug, mumbling, "But you
said in the past that you..." and he holds up his hand, "Yes, in the past,
but when I told you about Bill Britain being gay and his wife working at
Jiffy Lube it made me remember how it hit home with me that it made
sense. I thought that at the time and then forgot about it because of all
the shit going on with dad's back. Then when I told you a little while ago
I remembered how I was thinking at the time I met them in town that it was
cool, um, cool the way they handled the introductions. I mean, the way they
were both so casual and natural about it. It impressed me that people are
thinking in those terms more and more and not hiding behind the awkward
'partner' thing or 'significant other' awkwardness, or any of the
euphemisms that have been tried."

I shrug, muttering, "Yeah, I guess," and he says, "Don't you think it's the
simplest solution during introductions when we're married. I mean, to
simplify social interaction that we'll be involved in as a married couple,
and we'll be involved in a lot of introductory situations in the condo
development meeting neighbors and then at work too, especially as
managers. Yeah, we'll be in more social situations like business meetings
and, um, business dinners and then, as I said, other social gatherings
where we'll be living too, like at the pool on weekends, or whatever the
fuck. It's just simpler to be husband and wife. What the hell, you be the
husband... I'll be the wife."

I drain the last drops of my second Manhattan and then mumble, "Don't be
ridiculous! You can be the husband, I don't care." Our lunch arrives so we
stop talking. The waiter leaves and Rob cuts off and then plops a nice
juicy piece of medium-rare steak in his mouth. He chews it, swallows, and
says, "Okay, we'll go with that then, I'll be the husband and you'll be my
wife." I look at him and he looks right back as he's cutting another bite
of steak. He smiles confidently so I avert my eyes and pick up my knife and
fork. Christ, this is becoming one of my hypnotized moments. That's how I
feel... like I'm in a trance with my balls buzzing. I say, "Yes, that's
what I want." He goes, "There it is then, it's settled. Good."

Later, back at the apartment, the Manhattans have made us a tad sleepy so
Rob takes my hand, saying, "Do you wanna join me for a nap?" I go, "Uh huh,
I do," and he walks gingerly to our bedroom, me squeezing his hand as I
walk beside him taking the same tiny steps he's taking. Looking at him I'm
feeling, um, the way I should feel I guess. I gotta admit Robby impressed
me with the confident way he handled that husband and wife discussion. His
confidence made me think it's the right decision. It's almost scary to see
the things I've wanted all along coming to fruition right before my fucking
eyes, although not exactly the way I envisioned them. And, knowing I'm
mostly responsible for how everything is turning out, Robby being our
leader and everything,... well, it makes it extra weird knowing I started
that idea years ago. No, not just specifically the husband and wife thing,
but Rob taking charge and calling the shots when he feels he needs to. I've
been noticing more of that lately. It's enough to make me go... huh.

Rob cautiously slides on the bed and then I slide on the bed too, being
extra careful not to bump his leg. He turns to me and grins as he says,
"What are you doing way over there, wife?" I slide over right next to him
and he gets his arm under the back of my neck like he usually does, and
then he's like, "We're good, right babe?" I nod, "If you mean am I good
with being your wife, yeah I'm okay with that I guess." He goes, "Oh that,
yeah, I was kidding just now calling you that. When we're married though
I'm glad we could agree on being husband and wife as the more progressive
gay couples are doing it. And, now that we've agreed about that, there's
something else I meant to bring up at lunch. Um, I want to set a date for
our wedding, ya know, as every couple does at some point."

Well, what the fuck is this? Did he flick a switch and decide he'll wrap-up
every fuckin' detail we've ever talked about? It's hypnotizing to me and,
um, it feels okay actually. Yes, although, as I said, it's a little
intimidating now that it's happening for real. It is fucking sexy of Rob
though, holy shit! I mean the way he's pressing these issues and plowing
forward to clear up a few final matters so we, so I, know how it's gonna
be. Go for it, Rob!

I try to say something but it catches in my throat and Robby asks, "You
okay, Dylan?" I nod and say, "Sure, I'm okay, Rob. I started to say... if
you feel we should set a date, let's do it.." He goes, "Wonderful. I was
thinking we'll have a small intimate wedding some weekend, something
intimate to get it behind us. Let's say July fifteenth. That's a Saturday
and then we'll go someplace, wherever you want for a week of honeymooning
and then start our careers as husband and wife." Is that okay with you?" I
say, "Huh? Do you mean this July fifteenth?" Robby goes, "Yes, of course."
Frowning, I mutter, "That seems awfully quick." He goes, "Nah, it's
not. Not when you consider how long we've agreed we'll get married, which
is sort of like an engagement period. And, seriously, we need to move on
with life, babe. Let's be decisive." I go, "Um, fuck... I guess, um, I mean
okay. Yeah, what the hell, that sounds okay, Rob." He smiles, "Good. Don't
you feel, I don't know, relieved we're deciding on things finally? We've
been wishy-washy long enough."

Christ, getting married in a couple of weeks. Omigod, and why is my dick so
hard? Inconspicuously pushing my boner to the side of my jockey shorts, I
say, "Um, it's cool that you're taking charge of these things. Yep, and
it's seriously hot too! Um, I meant decisive..." He smiles and says,
"You're awesome, Dylan! Really you are. It makes me feel fantastic that we
can agree on these things without arguing," and he kisses my lips as I push
my stupid boner to the side again. Then we lie here looking at each other,
our heads turned facing one another, grinning. I'm only grinning because he
is... what the hell's going on here?

We're on top of our neatly made-up bed although not thinking about sex
because of Rob's latest injury. Even without sex though I still feel like
I'm floating. It takes some getting used to... the idea I'll be a 'wife'
this July fifteenth. It's a strange thing to wrap my head around and it
would be for most guys... or would it? Well, yeah, one-hundred-percent of
straight guys wouldn't even consider being the 'wife', so that leaves us,
gay guys to figure it out. Yeah, but some straight married men are
browbeaten milquetoast husband dominated by their female 'wife' so maybe
they should think about exchanging designations, although that's an
entirely different situation than mine.

So, forget straight guys in this 'wife' designation-dilemma, which is
another way of saying forget up to ninety percent of humans on the
planet. Okay, sure, much more than ten percent of the world's population is
gay, lesbian, etc. but I'll use 10% because that's what 'straight'
statisticians want it to be. So, since the Supreme Court's Obergefell
decision, how many of the planet's gay/lesbian population have gotten
married? Records show there's only been one out of ten same-sex couples who
have legally married in America. Of that relatively small number, 75% were
lesbians. That leaves a very small number, relatively speaking, of married
gay couples dealing with the 'husband' and 'wife' title-dilemma. So it's
Rob and me, plus let's say perhaps six other gay couples calling each other
husband and wife. No, I'm kidding obviously! Still, it's not a large
number.

In any case, we're talking about a specialized niche of gay males who are
dealing with this 'wife' thing. That's the group I was referring to when I
said I was probably not the only one who found the 'wife' designation as a
hard thing to wrap my head around... or, fuck, maybe I'm the only one out
of that tiny group who has a little concern about being described as a
'wife'. A 'little' concern, however, isn't quite the same as' NO CONCERN',
is it?

Rob, of course, isn't even thinking about this because in his mind it's
been settled, and I can understand why he'd think that. It's because I did
say at Burton's Restaurant I thought he should be the husband and me the
wife. Yeah, but what I actually meant was it'd be silly to pretend Robby
was the 'wife', but that didn't necessarily mean I wanted to be the wife
either! Semantics, ya know... and then, because, I don't know, I was
defiant or something I said sarcastically, 'Yeah... that's what I
want'. And who the fuck knows why I say the things I say...

Whatever, Rob appears to be on a roll here with decision-making and he's
got me into it too, that's if my boner is any indication. For whatever
reason, before I doze off, I tap his shoulder. Rob opens his eyes and I'm
like, "Our wedding in July, um, does that mean I automatically take your
last name during the ceremony? I'm not sure... or do we tell someone like
the preacher ahead of time, ya know, if we decide to do that?" He says, "If
we decide? I thought it was already decided you wanted to do that. You
raise a good point though 'cause I don't know if it's during the
ceremony. I'll need to find out how that works."

Hmm, I must have a funny 'look' on my face because Rob says, "Didn't you
tell me that's what you wanted to do a couple of times? I mean, you don't
need to be Dylan Dickers if you don't want to, but you said..." I shrug,
"What do you think I should do?" He shrugs, "To be honest, as I said, I've
been under the impression it was already decided, so this is catching me
off guard, but since you're asking... yes, I think it would be a very good
thing to do."

Okay! No doubt about it... Robby definitely flicked some kind of fucking
switch in his head. He flicked a switch and became the man I've always
thought it would be cool for my lover to be, ya know, confidently in charge
decision-maker, and I swear to God it almost paralyzes me now that it's
happening. I'm not sure I expected to feel, um... how do I feel anyway?
Sort of like it's kinda scary, but also kinda okay too.

Robby goes, "You do, don't you?" I say, "No! I mean, yeah I want to be
Dylan Dickers when we're married. Alliteration and whatnot." Robby goes,
"Alliteration? Oh, yeah... always with the jokes. I love that you're going
to be Dylan Dickers, it makes me very proud that you do too, and it makes
me very happy as well. It's kind of odd though that you're, um, you're
making it seem as though we're just deciding all these things now. You know
we already decided on everything months ago, right?" I mutter, "Not
everything..." and Rob goes, "Hey, I'm not complaining, Dylan, it's all
good as long as we're on the same page with the things we've agreed on in
the past. That's cool...." I nod, feeling myself floating again. He said
'things'... so what other things are there? Maybe I don't wanna know.

We doze off for our nap, and then we've got little hangovers when we
finally wake up. Yeah, well, two Manhattans in the afternoon pack a
punch. In the kitchen, we drink Cokes leaning against the bar. I stare at
Rob and he gives me that little smile of his and I smile back so he
murmurs, "I love you, Dylan. I've always loved you." I lean against him and
he puts his arms around me, then he grunts because I think I bumped his
sore leg.

Hmm, what the hell, I'm curious, so I murmur, "What else is there, Rob?
What other changes should I make, or...?" He kisses my lips lightly, then
quietly says, "Nah, not right now, babe. And nothing we've talked about
have actually been 'changes' per se. They're what we've agreed on before."
I go, "Sort of I guess," and he's like, "Jeez, I hesitate to mention other
things we've agreed upon in the past 'cause I don't want to overload your
memory banks any further."

Yeah, but I can tell he wants to say something else. I know he does. I'll
bet it's not what I was just alluding to a second ago about changes, which
was obviously my buddy sex with Danny. I go, "No, go ahead, tell me!" and
he's like, "Um, okay, it's about your smoking. I'll need you to stop
smoking, Dylan. I promised my parents. Well, I'll start from the
beginning. In freshman year my parents and I had a 'talk' about smoking and
I told them if they'd quit breaking my balls about it I'll give them my
word to quit smoking when I graduate college. That's what I'm gonna do and
I really, really want you to quit too. Smelling cigarette smoke on someone
as a nonsmoker would be, um..." I interrupt, "Sure, I'll quit with you!
That's what Chubby and I always said we'd do." He goes, "Damn, that's
great... thank you! Perfect!" I nod, muttering, "Okay then, that was easy."

He goes, "Isn't this great! We agree on everything." and then he adds, "I
don't want to push my luck so I'm not bringing up anything else. I just
wanted to reiterate those few small details to eliminate any confusion when
we're married." I shrug and he goes on, "We can move forward now with more
important matters like after graduation having fun for a few weeks before
starting our marriage and our working careers together."

I don't join in enthusiastically, so he's like, "You're good with all this,
right?" I nod, "Sure, Rob," and he goes, "As I said, we can talk about
whatever other little, um, issues..." I nod again, "Sure, Rob." He stops
and stares at me, then he frowns, saying, "You get spacey like this
sometimes, and not to be critical, Dylan, but... I mean, it's
like... um. It's like I don't know why you're not excited. You act as
though I've been hitting you over the head or something. Please, tell me
what's wrong. We've decided on things you already told me two, three, or
four times you wanted to do over the past year. I'm not making this shit up
as I go along. It's nothing new, is it?"

Shrugging, I go, "No, it isn't all new. I'm just not as quick as you to
flick a switch and move on to, um..." Rob's like, "Flick a switch? What's
that even mean? I wouldn't want you saying 'okay' to anything you don't
agree with, so please open up and tell me what's on your mind. I thought it
would be a short talk reiterating points we already decided on months
ago. Okay, not the date we're getting married, that's new, but we needed a
pick date eventually and you want me deciding shit and all, so... " I
shrug, "Yeah, um..." and he goes, "I've been feeling so happy we're on the
same page with details that lesser couples quibble and bitch about. We're
better than that, but you've gotta tell me what you don't like. Please, I
want you to be happy and excited 'cause these are the times of our lives! I
can't be happy and excited alone... that's hollow, that sucks. So, what the
fuck's it gonna be?"

I do a goofy snicker and shrug, then say, "I don't know. Um, I mean, let me
think for a second!" What am I going to think about? It's this fucking
trance-like-state I get into that dulls my brain! Shaking my head trying to
organize my thoughts I see Robby looking at me as though I've lost my
mind. I can't say I blame him 'cause I'm acting crazy. Hmm, think! What's
new about what he's been, um, settling? I go, "Oh, this 'husband' and
'wife' thing, ah, you used to say we wouldn't do that and then, what else?
Oh, yeah, the smoking thing. I never heard that story about your parents
before."

Rob's nodding his head, mumbling, "What else?" I go, "I'm still thinking!"
He sits on a stool at the living room side of the kitchen bar looking so
serious and conscientious I want to hug him and tell him everything's gonna
be alright. These aren't really such serious matters, but to Robby, they
ARE because he's, um, a tad more grown-up than me whereas my attitude is
bordering on getting silly and making up a scenario for Robby to laugh
at. One with me at the condo wearing an apron with two-year-old little
Robby hanging on me, a dishtowel over my shoulder as the doorbell rings at
the same time the phone rings and Rob's breakfast is burning in the frying
pan as I hear him singing in the shower getting ready for work and I answer
the phone and a phone solicitor says, 'Mrs. Dickers? Is this the lady of
the household? 'and I say, 'Um, that's close enough, but we don't want
any', and the doorbell rings again... and... Oh fuck, this silliness is so
immature of me!

It is, but I snicker at it anyway, and Rob goes, "What's funny, Dylan?
Should I forget everything we've been talking about?"

Oh God, I want to laugh out loud but I'm not seventeen anymore... I'm
almost twenty-three. This is the real world we're talking about and what's
so awful? I say, "I'm sorry, Rob. You're right, and the smoking thing is
nothing! As I said, Chub and I have been promising each other since we were
fifteen we'd definitely quit smoking when we graduated from college. Of
course, at the time we had no intention of going to college so it was our
way of sneering at the very idea and... well, never mind that." He says,
"Seriously, Dylan, everything in life can't be a joke the way you treat
it." I shrug, "I know that! Um, I guess it's just the 'husband' and 'wife'
designation that's, that was, um... unexpected."

He's still extremely serious, saying, "You were snickering. Do you think
I'm being an asshole? I just want us to be in agreement so we're not
bickering about shit later. I don't want us to be like everyone else,
arguing and not talking to one another. When I thought of the way Bill
referred to his married lover as 'wife' it seemed simple, but they both
agreed to it. You don't, so we'll go with 'partner' and then clarify it for
those who don't know us by adding, 'life ' partner, um, that is, we're gay
partners but not in a business sense'. I don't care, babe..." I'm shaking
my head as I'm saying, "NO! It's alright, Rob. Everything is what you've
been saying for years, um, except that wife thingie and the date for
getting married but you're right that I've agreed with you any number of
times about everything else, except..." He says, "Forget the fucking 'wife'
thing then! Can we agree on that at least?"

Fuck, it's ironic I'm being a cunt about the wife thing... haha! Hmm, going
around the bar to stand behind him I put my arms around Rob's neck and
squeeze kinda tightly as I'm leaning against his back, saying, "Let me put
it this way, Robby. And I want to be clear about this, crystal fucking
clear. YES! I've thought about it and I'm still in agreement with these
minor matters that I've already told you I was in agreement with including
the 'wife' thing. And I can almost hear the sigh of relief wives around the
world just did learning I've finally decided the designation 'wife' isn't a
degrading one."

Robby lifts his hand to take hold of my arm, mumbling, "Still with the
jokes. You can't help yourself with the joking around, but thank you for
making it crystal fucking clear for me. When you first got your arms around
my neck I thought you'd decided to strangle me... the crystal fucking clear
thing is much better." I mutter, "It was close but I've decided to wait
until I'm the beneficiary on the ten-million-dollar life insurance policy I
intend taking out on my husband, and then I'm strangling you." He goes,
"Yeah, it makes more sense to wait."

We stay like this for maybe a whole minute, my arms around his neck, the
side of our faces together looking straight ahead with his hand holding
onto my arm and my cock a stone shaft in my pants leaning against Rob's
buttocks. He can't help but feel it, but he doesn't say anything about
it. Finally, he goes, "How about if you go get our study guide now." I kiss
his cheek, let go of him... and do that.

My boner, as usual, felt good and it was partially caused by the physical
contact with Robby and the love I have for him both sexual and in every
other way. The rest of the reason for my boner is realizing Robby's going
to have his way and, as our in-charge leader he should have his way. How
else could it work? I mean, if I want him being our leader I gotta go along
with his decisions... or it's all crap. He flicked a switch and took over
to reiterate his positions on certain items pertaining to our life as a
married couple, a couple of new twists but mostly I've agreed to his plans
over the last year or two a few times already, so now it's time to accept
them as my reality. This is really happening, no more fantasies... it's
real. That's what I realized and it got my dick hard. Lots of things get my
dick hard and the second I organized this situation into a sub/dom thing in
my mind 'BAM'... another boner.

The study guide is in the bedroom and when I pick it up off the desk I call
out over my shoulder, "Let's study in here," and then see Rob is already
coming through the bedroom door taking small steps and grimacing. And then
we study together for our last final exam... ever.

After less than a half-hour of studying, asking each other questions from
the study guide, Robby goes, "Christ! I can't go over this shit another
minute." I slam the cover shut on the guide and mutter, "Thank, God." Robby
says, "Throw that thing in the trash," and I chuck it toward out
wastebasket near the desk. Yeah, we were reviewing that crap lying on our
bed. I roll up on my elbow and get my face close to Rob's, murmuring, "Will
you fuck me, Robby. I need to feel you inside me." He puts his hand on the
side of my face, quietly saying, "I love you so much, Dylan, and I want to
do that more than you know, but it'll need to be you doing all the work
because of my leg."

"No problem, Rob." First, I carefully undress him, then; not as carefully I
quickly undress. Naked, I kneel on the bed next to Robby and we kiss. Yes,
Robby's 'my man' so I'm contrite, murmuring," Sorry I know I was acting
immature there for a brief second and that'll probably happen
occasionally." He says very seriously, "Oh, Dylan, I know I'm too serious
and too mature for my age and I must seem boring to you at times, but
between the two of us we average out maturity-wise okay, don't ya think?"
Grinning, I nod and say, "Yeah, I like that!" and to show him I think he's
awesome, I slide down the bed, pick up and then suck on his fat heavy cock
as we look into each other's eyes. Shortly, Rob closes his eyes and goes,
"Aaaah, ooh fuuuck..."

Yeah, penises are crammed-full of nerve endings that like to party. The
slightest encouragement gets a penis revved-up and when the encouragement
is coming from a talented cock-sucking mouth like mine it's time to party
like a Rockstar at the end of the world. Yep, that's what Rob's penis
thinks and quickly he goes, "Omigod!" as his back arched off the bed a
little and then, "Ow!  because his left leg says, 'not so fast' when Rob
thumped it on the bed. He settles down and grunts, "Oh, oh, oh," as I slurp
on his cock and then begin rolling my tongue over its head.

His fat penis gets very hard and very quickly it's filling my mouth so I
take it out and while stoking it with my fingers, I lick his scrotum while
rolling his balls around with my tongue as saliva drools around my mouth
and chin and cheeks and I'm so aroused by now I want to stroke my own boner
or rim his ass. I do stroke my boner but it would hurt his leg trying to
get him up on his side, so I forget about rimming him and concentrate on
licking under his balls and then I take that whole fat hard cock back in my
mouth and press my face forward until his pubic hairs surround my face and
that ginormous cock head is forced into my throat.

Moving my head back and forth slightly forces that hard bulbous cock head
in and out of my throat and gets Robby groaning and rubbing my hair and
then cupping my head holding my face against his groin while I'm exercising
my throat muscles stimulating the leaking. Moaning, Rob lets go of my head
and I gag a little when the head of his cock comes out of my throat, and
then gasp oxygen into my lungs.

Omigod, I'm so turned on! Picking his fat boner up with my fingers I put it
back into my mouth and slobber all over it with warm saliva, my tongue now
moving on the shaft as the head rolls front to back over the roof of my
mouth leaving a trail of precum in its wake. Then, taking it out of my
mouth and holding his hard boner up against his belly I lick and suck on
his balls again, doing that until they're dripping with saliva.

Ya see, I'm showing Robby I applaud and support the way he handled
everything today, plus I'm making up to him for being a bit of cunt with
all my hemming and hawing. I admired how effectively he got a few things
settled, things that have apparently been on his mind for a while
now. Robby flicked a switch in his head and took over by insisting
everything gets agreed upon NOW... once and for all.

There's no going back on my word after that. God knows I wouldn't have
pressed those issues myself, um, ever. He got those 'issues' settled
exactly how he wanted them settled and in the exact manner in which we've
both agreed on... and when I was backing out he got them settled all over
again. So I gotta admire the persistence and patience, ya know?

At the same time, accomplishing his objectives so effectively gave Rob more
confidence and that confidence was such that he let the buddy-sex issue
slide for now. He knew damn well when I asked him if there was anything
else he wanted to tell me that I was referring to my buddy sex with
Danny. Robby obviously feels he's got things under control so there's no
need to press that button right this minute. He'll be eliminating our
'arrangement' soon enough though, and I'm ready for that but for now, Danny
and I are still buddy-sex buddies.

Maybe Rob figures I'm basically weaning myself of side sex anyway. The only
sex buddy I'll have after graduation is Danny and, as I said, Robby will
probably be taking care of that little matter as he did with the little
matter of Dodger and me. Anybody in Rob's position would. Hell, just the
other day he reluctantly said he'd wait for me to do the 'right thing' on
my own, although he's getting impatient for me to do that.  Hmm, and that
was before he flicked the switch so, I don't know now...

Anyway, in my earliest fantasies about a partnership with a confident
capable cute and dominant strong guy... blah, blah, blah... there was
nothing about me having side sex of any kind... not in those
fantasies. Fantasy-oversight... obviously! The basics of my long-held
fantasy of the dominant cute strong awesomely sexy guy who I imagined was
going to look out for me, etc. etc. are present in Rob today, but in a
'light' version, like Bud Light. Altering my earlier fantasy partner was
necessary for purposes of dealing with the real world, in other
words... reality.

All those thoughts flashed through my brain reinforcing that Robby's my man
and thereby putting me in this sexually submissive frame of mind doing my
enthusiastic oral sex for him, which has the side benefit of getting me
aroused as well. Aroused until I'm right on the verge of climaxing. My
climax is right at the tipping point so I pull my mouth off his cock and
hold my breath 'cause it would be humiliating to shoot off as I'm sucking
my man's dick! Rob's been quietly moaning and rubbing my head the way he
usually does whenever I'm sucking his cock. Yeah, everything is
normal... it's better than normal. It's better than normal because of the
subtle change between us now that Rob is actually in charge for-real and
has turned our 'ideas' into 'reality'.

Letting my held breath out slowly I sense the danger of climaxing calmed
down so I take some quiet long deep breaths and then get the Astroglide
from the bedside table as Robby exclaims, "I don't know what to say,
babe. That felt fantastic.... Omigod, that was so awesome!"

Grinning at him, I murmur, "Just taking care of my man." He grins back at
me and says, "You're doing a helluva job of it too." I liked hearing that
because it's another thing that sounded very normal, like things we've said
a few hundred times to one another. So, yes, there's now a slight
difference in our relationship but at the same time, it feels normal too.

Rubbing lots of Astroglide on Rob's big fat hard cock and then stroking it
up and down, which is easy to do because it's presently sticking straight
up although my hand barely reaching around it. It goes stroke, stroke,
stroke up and down that fat slippery pole as I'm glancing up at Robby
seeing him biting his bottom lip and squirming on the bed as much as he
dares considering his leg. Heh heh, he's super turned on and I like
watching him super aroused like this. My stroking with all this Astroglide
makes a squeaky sound as Robby moans and then mutters, "Fuck, that feels
good, Dylan. Oh, Christ...mmmm, oooh." That makes me grin again but I let
go of his fat boner because a long drool of pre-cum just rolled over my
fingers meaning Rob's close to blowing his load.

After getting another glob of Astroglide on my fingers I push the lube into
my rectum and spread some of it all around my asshole, then I grab Rob's
boner and stroke it until he pushes my hand away, and goes, "Ahh, just a
second, babe, please! I almost shot off... holy shit, that was close." My
eyelids are half-closed now as I've slipped deeper into my dreamy
submissive trance. Yep, I'm feeling deliciously submissive to Robby
although he hasn't done a single dominant thing since I began undressing
him. It's the other things though, the stuff he said today and the way he
handled everything and the sexy feeling in my balls as I was agreeing to
everything... twice.

Carefully I move my right leg over Robby's legs and now I'm straddling him
with his boner sticking up stiffly in front of me, my boner poking his with
pre-cum drooling out of both. Holy fuck!

I look at our boners and then at Robby lying there still biting his bottom
lip and when his eyes look into mine I smile at him and walk forward up on
my knees until I'm over his boner. It's behind me now where it can do some
good. Rob quietly says, "Please be careful, Dylan." He means be careful I
don't drop my knee on his left leg. I won't touch it. I'm all about that
stubby middle leg that's behind me now and bumping my right butt cheek all
slippery with Astroglide and pre-cum.

Reaching back I guide his hard cock to my asshole and carefully sit on
it. I can't help scrunching my face because my spreading wide-open anus
hurts as I drop ever so slightly onto Rob's fat hard log of a boner. In
spite of the pain, I'm continuing to exert downward pressure until "Aaaah!"
the head slides very tightly inside me. Omigod! A big red pain balloon pops
in my head but I almost cum anyway and then hold my breath until the urge
to cum, and the surge of pain passes.

In my head remains the rush of arousal I'm still feeling from the
take-charge-Robby which still has me submissively hot and bothered. Yeah,
my man Rob flicking some imaginary switch taking the reins and setting me
straight on a few matters, and the newness of it, oh man... the newness!
Sure, the sexual arousal I get from it will lessen with time, but for now,
I'm incredibly aroused seeing him there biting his lip and being the man
who grew up from the shy boy I was so infatuated with in high school to be
the young man who is our in-charge leader.

Robby's greatly aroused too but the difference, for him, is it's strictly
sexual arousal. He has no idea how hot I am for him because of him taking
charge for REAL. To him, this sex has nothing to do with him settling those
earlier matters. To me, it has a lot to do with that, but the sex matters
too.

Right now though It's pain I'm feeling as I slide very tightly down his
boner, my rectum spreading ridiculously wide although exactly as wide as
it's spread for this same boner five hundred times before. The pain holds
on as I'm basically sitting on Rob's lap now panting and seeing
strobe-lights of pain flash behind my eyes and then Omigod the pain begins
retreating and now it's retreating faster. I gasp at the pleasure that
instantly flows over me from my prostate and then from the nerve endings
around my anus. Gulping, I look at Robby and try to say... I love
you... but I need to gulp again and say instead, "My man," and then I lift
up... and then slowly slide back down... and then I do it again as we both
go, "Oooh! Oooh, mmmm."

It doesn't take many extremely tight slides up and down on that fat hard
slippery boner before Robby thrashes around under me and I feel his cum
pouring inside me and then some of it is coming right back out around his
ridiculously fat cock. Yes, liquid of any kind finds a way out of the most
stopped-up holes imaginable as it seeps through the tiniest crease, ones
you can't even see. Instead of a moan of pleasure though, Rob screams,
"OOOW!" because his legs were moving on the bed during his climax and so
were my knees and my right knee glanced off his left thigh.

My knees jerked because a fraction of a second after I felt his cum erupt
inside me, my climax exploded so fast I didn't have a chance to squeal. I
had my hand in front of my boner to keep my cum from shooting straight out
at Robby but, trying to manage the sensations swarming all over me with
explosions of pleasure surrounding my groin and throbbing boner, my cum
gushing, cum literally gushing straight out of my quivering wide-open piss
slit splashing off my hand creamy and hot and dripping down on
Robby... well, with all that going on my knees got jumpy and I hit his sore
leg. And now another string of cum follows and this time I'm able to do my
squeal but I'm also jostling on Robby again and hurting his leg again so he
pushes me off, his cock coming out of my ass as the pain in his leg must be
really torturing him now. In between his climax and then mine, Rob's leg
got hurt twice and it all happened in no more than two or three seconds.

I lie on my side next to Rob trying to figure out what happened as I
tightly stroke my cock while breathing deeply, my heart pounding as
sizzling after-effects tantalize me, making me shudder... and then all is
finally calm and I notice Robby lying there groaning and then,
surprisingly, he snorts out a laugh before grinning and saying, "Let's not
do that again, babe. Um, I mean not for a week maybe." I nod my head as my
breathing settles down and then I'm like, "Sorry, Rob. I lost it there and
forgot about your leg." He reaches over and rubs my shoulder, saying, "No,
that was great, Dylan! The pain and pleasure mixture, the extremes of both,
um, I never felt anything quite like that before. Christ, that was
something, babe. Thank you."

Jesus, that's surprising! Haha, well hell, I feel good too! Looking at Rob,
I ask, "Seriously, you're okay?" He says, "Yeah, fuck, that was worth the
pain." I shrug, "Well, thank God, but it was disturbing hearing you
screaming bloody murder like that, like a woman seeing a mouse, or..." He
says, "I don't remember that! I mean, I yelled a little from the pain, but
Omigod that fucking orgasm I had, I sure remember that and, baby, that
foreplay and then you riding my boner... that was sex off the fucking
charts! That was something new!"

As I get off the bed I'm thinking, 'New?' Yeah, but for me, it's not 'new'
like Rob means. To me, it's a 'new' sub/dom kind of 'toy' to mess around
with and I mean in my head. Yeah, now that Rob's in charge for real the
sub/dom possibilities in my head, well it boggles the mind.

Right now though, being the submissive one my job is to clean both of us
up. I carefully wipe the cum off Rob with Kleenex and he gets a silly
smirking look on his face pretending he's a total invalid, and then we get
to giggling. Then, after wiping my ass, I get back on the bed and start
breaking his balls about the way he screamed when I jumped on his leg. I
go, "When I heard you scream, I swear to God, this is the truth Rob, I
thought some little girl from the parking lot must have got her hand caught
in a car door or something. Ya know when you screamed so high-pitched like
that. Or maybe a cat screaming in heat." He goes, "Fuck you! You would have
fainted from the pain I felt." I mutter, "No, it was definitely closer to a
high pitched little girl screaming when her fingers were totally smashed
because some dolt slammed the car door on her little hand... it was that
kind of scream. Not the cat in heat one, or maybe both at the same time."

We stay in a goofy frame of mind for the rest of the day, and that's
reassuring. Yes, even though important flick-the-switch-changes have
happened and, believe me, I don't think they're small matters but I'm
mostly referring to the other changes, the ones in Rob and me personally,
the changes in how we interact with each other, those changes are very
subtle. Mostly we're the same as we were yesterday except we're subtly
different. We're good, we're better than we were yesterday. It's been quite
an amazing experience witnessing first hand the way Robby diplomatically
pushed all the right buttons and not only got me to agree to everything but
did it in a manner that, somehow, I sort of feel I got everything I wanted
too. I'm totally good with all this... and I'll try to figure out why that
is some other time.

Then, Thursday morning, we're feeling fine. Rob's still dealing with his
groin thingie a little, but it's getting better. Hell, I'm actually feeling
'extra' fine right now partly because we just successfully completed the
last 'final-exam' of our lives and it was even easier than the first
two. So that's awesome, although I gotta say the major part of my
extra-fine attitude is Rob's ongoing husband authority-figure-role that's
been on partial display, so that's cool.  Robby's taken over for-real, no
more pretending, no more imagining how it'll be, nope, reality knocked and
came in... and it's not leaving.

Obviously, I'm currently fixated on this subtle unspoken change in us, and
I can tell Robby sort of feels it too. It's kind of a big deal to us while
the rest of the world wouldn't waste a yawn on it. I, however, did notice
an indescribable, almost imperceptible subtle difference in the way Rob
went about everything this morning. No, not a 'bad' difference at all. He
had relaxed confidence in the manner he did and said everything, and I'm a
little bit more relaxed today myself. That's because Rob's basically
responsible for, well... I don't know what specifically right this second,
but whatever it is, I don't need to worry about it. That's right, if
somebody asks me, um, anything... I'll say, go ask Rob.

Sure, I've had to abandon a few aspects from my earliest fantasies due to
unanticipated developments, but mostly this is how I envisioned my lover
and me settling-in together in the end... us making some subtle adjustments
from our prior relationship that he and I recognize, but mostly no one else
will.

What isn't even a little bit subtle, however, is the way, right now, we're
getting drunker than shit celebrating the successful completion of the last
final exam we'll ever need to take. There are many Merrimack senior guys
and girls in Rolf's Bar celebrating the same thing we are. We're drinking
shots and beers at a table with three teammates of Rob's when Danny and
four of his dorm mates come busting into Rolf's walking right by our table
smelling of marijuana as they make their way to the bar, and right after
them ten more baseball players come raucously into the bar slamming the
door back against the wall, like... we're here! They were probably drinking
in one of their dorm rooms before getting the bright idea to come to Rolf's
Bar. Some of the ballplayers see Rob and make their way through the crowd
to gathering around their fallen comrade.

Now there are too many ballplayers squeezing chairs around the table, and
they're all bullshitting about their lost baseball season... time for me to
go. I slip away from the table looking for Danny but he's lost in the crowd
and then I spot a couple of just vacated seats at the bar near the front
door so I make my way there and end up talking to two guys at the bar who
aren't Merrimack students. They tell me this is their normal spot after
work and they're not pleased about, as one of them put it, "These asshole
privileged college students taking over Rolf's." I go, "Yeah, I see what ya
mean..." One of the two guys has a sexy mouth and a cute nose and, as we're
carrying on a conversation about the Bruins, which he's mightily interested
in, I buy us a round of shots and beers.

Myself, I don't care for ice hockey... but pretend I do. Even with the
subtle changes in my life, looking at and talking with other guys is a
perfectly okay thing for me to do. The Bruins fan I'm talking with doesn't
even look old enough to be in here but, be that as it may, I'm especially
intrigued by him because he appears to have an abnormal interest in me as
well. Since Rob's and my 'arrangement' is still functional I'm perfectly
within my rights to investigate this Bruin-fan situation further should I
choose to although I'm probably not going to because I've still got this
submissive thing for Robby in my head and I don't think he'd appreciate me
fucking with some stranger so soon after our subtle changes. Rob's aware of
Danny and me, so I feel okay about Danny and me doing buddy sex, but I'll
pass up this obvious opportunity with the hockey-lover here on my right
even though he's looking cute and, as I mentioned, appears to be interested
in doing something sexy with me. It's always surprising to me when the
'one' out of the many I interact with actually turns out to be on my
team. I'm always like... really?

My hockey-loving pal is named Ron-something and while he's the touchy/feely
type and is interested in me, his friend who is on the other side of
Ron-something is not even slightly interested in me and he's now talking
with two older men who are sitting next to him at this wickedly
over-crowded bar. The older men appear to be construction workers and I
think Ron, who I insist on calling Ronny, is a construction worker as
well. I say that because of his work boots, dirty hands, and dirty
clothes. Ronny has an unbearable and hideous New England accent but I'm
overlooking that while fantasizing how awesome it would be to give him a
much-needed haircut and then have him fuck my brains out with me bent over
so far I'm looking through my legs at his dirty work boots. It's perfectly
okay for me to fantasize about that. Sure, fantasizing is okay. I intend
doing more of that so I'm just about to buy young Ronny and me another shot
and beer when Danny comes over and drags me away from the bar.

As I'm being pulled away, Ronny says something that I can't understand
because his accent is so horrendous. Danny gives Ronny a 'look' as though
he can't believe what he's seeing, and then he asks me, "Who in the fuck is
that filthy little boy?" I go, "Never mind him, Danny. Where ya been?" He
tells me he's been here for the last hour or so, and then I remember seeing
him come in.  Mostly he's excited about his last final exam, as everyone in
here is, but I don't bother mentioning that because in Danny's world, his
last final exam is the only one that matters.

As I'm listening to him talk about how he aced the exam, we're both being
nudged into a corner by the boisterous crowd in here. We need to shout to
be heard as this place is full of Merrimack students now that the days of
final exam testing is over. Everyone is yelling and someone has turned up
the music so I lean toward Danny to hear him. I've always liked listening
to him talk and I'm so happy the other day's misunderstanding between us,
or whatever it was, isn't on Danny's mind. I can't follow his ramblings but
I like the sound of his voice, and I'm also trying to determine what
happened to the crush I used to have on him because it's definitely gone
missing. I'm still extremely fond of him obviously, but the missing crush
is another thing, along with the subtle changes in Robby and me, that seems
different and it's all a strange feeling... or a new feeling. Yeah, that's
what it is... it's new.

Danny laughs as he finishes saying whatever it was that amused him and now
he pushes past a few people to brazenly squeeze between some guys at the
bar. Instead of staying in the corner space, I've had enough shots and
beers that I stupidly go with Danny trying to squeeze in at the bar with
him and a girl goes, "Well, excuse me for existing," as she steps back to
give me access and then she laughs with her girlfriend like, 'What the
fuck...?'

Okay, I realize I'm drunk, but fuck it. I get next to Danny who's waving
his hand trying to get the overworked bartender's attention as I'm trying
to tell Danny about the job I'll be starting August first. He finally
interrupts me, saying, "That's great, baby, but I can't get this asshole's
attention. Come outside with me and we'll have a cigarette."

Danny's just as hammered as I am, plus he's been smoking weed so he's a tad
on the aggressive side and I follow him fighting his way to the door and we
go outside and smoke cigarettes while Danny tells me about the car that
Stan, his mom's boyfriend/fiancé, is giving him for graduation. This
is the fourth or fifth time he's told me about the Volkswagen but, as I
said, I like listening to his voice while staring at his youthful
face. Then he's telling me about driving Specks' Volvo station wagon over
here with four other guys in it and how the Volvo is actually Speck's mom's
car although Specks has been using it all semester. I'm going, "Uh huh."
and he goes on to tell me Specks let him borrow the car because he, Specks,
is taking his last final exam late this afternoon... or was taking it. That
was almost about forty-five minutes ago and Danny was supposed to pick
Specks up.

Finished our cigarettes Danny has half a joint, which we smoke and then for
some reason, one that seems to make sense the way Danny explains it, we get
in the station wagon and Danny drives us around to the back of the Rolf's
Bar where we fuck. He fucks me on the back seat with me on all fours and
Danny up on his knees behind me, our pants pulled down just far enough for
the occasion. It's a hard fucking that's followed by a hard spanking. Too
hard and I'm quickly trying to get away from his swinging hand that's
splattering the cum drooling out of my ass which makes the smacks sting
more. I end up on the floor between the back of the front bucket seat and
the front of the back seat.

Danny and I both have tears in our eyes by the time he's finally done
spanking my bare ass and then we hug and, yeah, my tears are because that
spanking hurt like a motherfucker and because maybe I'm subtly different
now, and Danny's tears are probably because he knows his dream for us ain't
happening. Maybe he also picked up on my vibes that the crush is gone too.

Now we're lying together on the back seat, both of us silently
contemplating whatever, but still enjoying the feel of one another's body,
our arms around each other. When my ass feels a little better and our tears
have dried, we pull up our pants and get out of the car and then
irresponsibly leave the station wagon there behind the bar blocking the
back door. We walk around the side of the bar with my ass still sore but I
figure I deserved being spanked for any number of reasons, some of which
Danny may have had in mind.

As we're walking, our previous activities having apparently already vacated
his mind, Danny's now onto other matters, "Yeah, Dylan, I'm totally
cleaning-out and fixing-up the garage for my barbershop at home," and then
he mentions, for like the tenth time, "You better not be thinking of
getting haircuts any place else." I go, "Are you fuckin' crazy? I wouldn't
even think of doing that." He goes, "Thanks, baby, and Westborough ain't
that far." I go, "Well, fuck, I know that!" He says, "Yeah, but I don't
think Rob's gonna allow you come to me for your haircuts. That's what
worries me." I'm like, "No, he said he was good with it," and Danny says,
"Yeah, well, I'm not so sure... just saying."

I don't remember much after that but Rob and I do get home safely, both
hammered and unfortunately, his leg's sore again, probably because he's
been walking on it too much. We don't try sex because we kinda know better
after the last time we tried it.

The following morning we lie in bed with hangovers and there's very little
talking. Mostly we're dozing on and off for, I don't know but it's for
quite a while. We're done with exams so there's no real reason to get out
of bed and we don't, not until almost two o'clock. Then we deal with our
hangovers for the rest of the day which isn't all that pleasant, but that's
the only real cure for hangovers... passing the time until the hangover
gives up and goes away. Very little talking, as I said... mostly we just
have soup, Advil, and liquids all day.

Saturday morning though, hell, I'm feeling much better after lying around
all day Friday without drinking any booze. It's a very good thing I'm
feeling good because Chubby's picking me up at eleven o'clock for our
'brother's day' together. Rob's feeling better too and as we're cleaning up
the kitchen after breakfast, he goes, "Hey, babe, my leg or groin or
whatever the hell it was is feeling a little better today. Not great, but
better than it's been." I go, "Awesome, Rob! What are you gonna do today?"
He's like, "This afternoon I'll clean out my locker at the ballpark and
then, as I told you yesterday, I've got the baseball teams' break-up dinner
tonight at a restaurant in Lawrence." I nod, "Oh, yeah, I remember, it's at
Luca's... the Italian place. And you're good to go, right?" He says, "Yeah,
but if the dinner was yesterday it would have been a struggle driving there
myself." I'm like, "Well, Mouse could have driven you or if you needed me
to, I'd have driven you." He shakes his head, "Well yeah, but no
girlfriends or boyfriends are invited so you'd need to have waited for like
five hours in the truck before driving me back here." I go, "Oh, fuck,
sitting in the pickup for five hours, no problem... I'd do it for you." We
smirk at that nonsense, both of us feeling that subtle difference in our
relationship... very subtle, but it's there.

Later, I'm showered and dressed in jeans and a nice shirt, my hair looking
good from the recent haircut, so I'm ready for 'brothers day'. Looking at
my phone again, but not really expecting to see a text from Ryan although
I've been kinda hoping he'd at least acknowledge I sent him a text. I
wonder what his story is? Shrugging, 'cause what more can I do? I mean,
seriously...

Putting the phone in my pocket and carrying a lightweight hoodie sweatshirt
in case I need it, I kiss Rob, murmuring, "I love you and I'm wicked happy
about how everything is turning out. You are my man, Robert Dickers!" He
grins, muttering, "You're Goddamn right I am. Have fun, babe, and be
careful! You know Jeff's, um... well, you know your brother for sure."

I'm like, "I'll be careful," and start to pull away but Rob holds onto my
arm, asking, "You don't have any second thought about the small details
we've agreed for our married life, do you?" I shake my head and mutter,
"No, none, Rob. You're our leader and I'm good with everything you decided
for us." He still holds my arm, saying, "What we both decided and agreed
to, right?" I nod, "Yep, seriously, Rob. I'm good with all of it." He
smiles and pats my ass, saying, "Awesome. Have fun with Jeff, but be
fucking careful."

I'm outside the apartment putting on my hoodie and then I light a
cigarette. So, here I am smoking and waiting for my brother on brother's
day wondering how much of Robby's recent edicts, so to speak, I should tell
Chubby? I can see where he might think I've been too much of a pushover for
Rob because Chubby doesn't understand this is what I've always wanted.

And, no, I don't mean me being a pushover... that's not what I meant!
That's not what this is about anyway. Robby is my man and will be my
husband and the boss of us. That's understandably an alien concept for a
confident guy like Chubby to abide, so I'm conflicted about mentioning
anything along those lines. It'll be hard not to though because I always
want to hear Chubby say I'm doing the right thing. Yeah, I've always needed
his approval. Maybe now though, it's mostly Robby's approval I need above
anyone else's. Yeah, that's actually how it is now. I need to get that
through my thick skull... and I'm good with it too.

 A minute later and, oh boy! Yep, here comes that goofy green car of
ours. This is gonna be fun!

Part one (add) of the final days to follow...

      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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