Date: Fri, 20 Sep 2019 14:51:14 +0000 (UTC)
From: Bill <mgtbill@aol.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter  60 part 4 The Final Days

DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter  60   The Final Days

Part 4

by  Donny  Mumford


Our three day trip to Provincetown was very cool so it seems odd during the
ride back home I'd get into serious rantings and ravings in my head about
know-it-all people and how I need to stop caring what they think about me,
but I did. Then, while we're dropping Hayden and Danny off at their houses
I'm thinking... 'Yeah, but what am I missing here?' It's like, sure, all my
rantings are righteous but what set me off in the first place? We had a fun
three days so why wasn't I thinking positive thoughts during the trip home?

And then I hear Robby mumble, "We're home, babe." He turns off the engine
and I go, "Wha..?" which allows my brain the split second it needs to
reprogram from my strange musings back to planet earth. I say too loudly,
"Oh, uh huh!" sounding as if I just woke up.

Rob chuckles, and mumbles, "Daydreaming again, babe?" I say in a more
normal tone of voice, "No! I was quietly contemplating things... that isn't
daydreaming, but let me ask you something." With his hand on the driver's
side door handle, he looks back at me and I'm like, "Hypothetically
speaking, would it be okay with you if I had a quick smoke in the pool
house?" Rob makes a 'face' as he says, "No!" then he hops out of the pickup
and, standing on the driveway, he looks at me in the backseat, and asks,
"Is that why you've been so quiet the past half hour, you were thinking
about smoking an 'effing cigarette?"

Being careful not to act like a child, I do not slam the pickup's door when
I get out. And why in the hell did I mention smoking when I don't even have
a cigarette? Well, I did say 'hypothetically'. Pushing open the gate and
then walking under the arbor into the back yard, I'm thinking, 'Well, I'm
sorry, but fuck that! I'm buying a pack of cigarettes and sneaking them one
at a time. Yep, that's how a normal person would quit smoking ... little by
little. Rob yells, "Yo, Dylan, where ya going, buddy? Aren't you going to
help me get our stuff?" Oh, shit, yeah... haha.

Coming back through the gate to the driveway, I go, "Jeez, yeah, of
course..." Robby gives me a 'look' like, 'What the fuck...?' but he's
grinning too. He unhooks the tonneau cover, saying, "I know what we'll do,
babe, we'll buy some of that nicotine gum." I go, "Yeah, that should do
it." No, it won't!

And then I'm thinking, 'Jesus, what's with me going from all my righteous
ranting and raving in my head about phantom know-it-all people criticizing
me, from that to wanting a cigarette? Yeah, what's up with that?' Well,
lots of things I guess. For one there are after-effects of graduating from
college that's on my mind, and add to that my mom is getting married, I'm
getting married, and then two of my favorite old habits have been
eliminated, meaning smoking and buddy sex, plus I'm starting a career in a
few weeks, plus God only knows what else will be new. That's a lot of shit
to deal with... so yeah, is it any wonder I'm a little spacey?

I can handle it but, as I said, that's a helluva lot of significant changes
in my life. And, of course, I'm not the only one dealing with many
life-changing events, Rob and many others need to deal with a lot of stuff
too so, no, I'm not gonna be whining about any of it. It's just, I don't
know, there's something niggling in the back of my brain that's fucking up
my head. Something's wrong! Something among all of the changes I just
thought of needs changing and I'm going to find out what it is, but not
right now.

Right now I'm putting my backpack on and helping to carry the rest of our
stuff inside. Rob mumbles, "It looks like we've got everything, Dylan." I
nod and we go in through the back door. Huh, it feels odd today because
there's no exuberant greeting from Mrs. Dickers. I miss that. It's Friday
afternoon though, which is when she does her weekly grocery
shopping. Mr. D. is at work, obviously, so nobody's home.

In our bedroom, we start sorting out the dirty/sandy stuff from the clothes
we never got around to wearing. Yeah, Rob and I both pack too much when
we're going away. After we've dumped the dirty clothes in the hamper, Robby
taps my arm, saying, "Whaddaya say we do something incredibly responsible
for a change and get all these dirty clothes into the washing machine?" I
go, "OR, we could put that off until later," and he goes, "OR, we could do
it now." I go, "Yes, future husband, that is a better idea." He snickers
and rubs my head, muttering, "I kinda like you."

Oh, fuck... that's it! A light bulb just went off in my head. It happened
when I said 'future husband'. I've said that fifty times recently but this
time CLICK... a bright light blinks on lighting up my overworked brain and
I see the problem. Saying 'husband' triggered an alarm that explains my
defensive-type musings. No, there isn't a thing wrong with my rants against
the know-it-alls of the world, or the fact I need to stop caring about
them, and it only peripherally has to do with me jokingly calling Rob
'husband'. It's related to that though, and it set off the alarm. It's what
Rob didn't say... he didn't say 'wife'. He could have though and that's
what needs changing. No, don't be stupid, not the fact he didn't say
'wife'... the fact he could have said it. That's not going to work for me!

Holy shit, how about that! I fought off initially rejecting it, and I tried
my best to be okay with it but I can't pretend I'm okay with that any
longer. Nope, I don't wanna be a wife. You can only fool yourself for so
long and then BANG your brain tells you... no, that's not 'working' for
you, ya dope! I guess I'm too insecure, or too 'something' to be Rob's or
anyone else's 'wife'. I thought I'd be okay with it, I told myself I was
and, Goddammit, I was positive I wasn't rationalizing being okay with it,
ya know, just to please Rob. I was positive I wasn't, but never mind all
that shit because, as it turns out, I don't want to be a 'wife'. Huh, I
guess I'm being a cunt about this, haha, but I ain't doing it. Well, whew
that's a relief. Oh, obviously, I'll need to break this latest news to
Rob. Hmm...

I'm feeling this amazing great sense of relief though. It's been bothering
me subconsciously and everyone knows what a prick the subconscious is... so
it was unsettling for me. And then I figured it out and BINGO... now I'm
being true to myself. You've always first and foremost gotta be true to
yourself. That's gonna go in my book! Oh man, it's like a fresh breeze is
blowing over me. Very refreshing!

Okay, whew! That's resolved except for mentioning it to Rob. I pick up the
hamper, as he asks, "Wasn't that an awesome trip?" I go, "Yeah, it was
great being in P-town with all those cool gay people. Um, did you happen to
notice I picked up a few gay-affectations, gayish mannerisms while I was
there?" He frowns at me, so I add, "Yeah, I did. I picked up some of that
shit from Hayden and the other gay-acting guys we ran into. I had some fun
goofing on that." He mutters, "Um, really?" I'm like, "Whaddaya mean
'really'? I was doing it right in your face..."

Still appearing confused as he nods, mumbling, "Oh, yeah? Um, I guess maybe
I saw a little something, but why are you sounding so angry, babe?" I go,
"Angry? Oh, sorry, I'm not angry. I'm thinking about something we need to
discuss... something I need to tell you, a revelation of some significance
but it doesn't have to be right now." He didn't hear that that though
because Rob was muttering to himself while picking up the towels we used
the past three days.

With an armful of towels, he says, "Motherfucker, how the hell did we use
this many towels in three days?" I shrug and he adds, "Um, sorry... what
were you saying about the trip?" I go, "Wait a friggin' second
here... you're not bitching about me using two towels each day on the beach
and then one or two while showering I hope. One for lying on the beach and
one for drying myself after a swim, and obviously separate towels for
showering." He nods at the hamper, so I pick it up while he's saying, "No!
I was referring to both of us. Fuck, babe, I have zero complaints about
you! P-Town was fun and I actually thought you were fucking adorable all
three days. Seriously, you were in a great mood, very energetic and
active. That's what I noticed the most, and it made me happy to see you
happy." Well, okay then.

As he carries the towels, I'm carrying the hamper going downstairs
now. Looking over his shoulder, Rob says, "Hey, babe, what would you think
if I told you we're vacationing in Provincetown a week or two next summer
instead of your favorite spot in New Jersey." I go, "Instead of Wildwood?"
He nods, "Yeah, that's been your family spot for years, but let's have a
spot of our own. We'll start a tradition going to Provincetown for our
summer vacations."

I'm like, "Yeah, sure, but getting back to, um... are you saying you didn't
mind me swishing it up a little with those other gay guys?" He goes, "You
weren't 'swishing up' anything that I can remember. What the fuck ya
talking about? You were super relaxed, that's all. I could tell you
were. Mostly, I was glad I didn't hear your normal, um, ya know, you
criticizing everything. I thought you'd be bitching about the tiny place we
rented or the crowds or something, but nope... you were excellent! It was
cool seeing you like that." I go, "I'm not going to make a big deal of
this, but you just insulted the shit out of me. I do not criticize
everything or complain about crowds there or anywhere else. I like
crowds. Oh, sure, I might comment on things occasionally, but that's not
the same as criticizing." He goes, "You're right, babe. Um, and, what the
hell, I was trying to compliment you, Dylan. Jeez!"

What the fuck though? How in the hell can he say I wasn't 'swishing' it up
when I was right in front of him doing Hayden's goofy shit? I expected him
to laugh at least, or say something. When we're in the basement, on purpose
I act obviously gay with a hand on my hip, my other hand limp-wristed, as I
go, "Oh, this is gross! Look, Rob... there's the shorts I spilled the
milkshake on... eww, the smell!" He says, "What smell? I don't smell
anything. Um," and he grabs everything from the hamper and stuffs it in the
washing machine as I stand here, thinking, "What the fuck?"

Rob also stuffs all the towels in there too. Standing back chuckling, he
goes, "Heh heh, and that's how you overload a washing machine like a
motherfucker. That's exactly the way it should NEVER be done, but fuck
it. Haha, I hope it doesn't break the damn thing." Turning his head to look
at me, he goes, "Would you pass me the detergent, babe?" I grab the
container of Tide pods from the shelf next to me and hold it out. He takes
two pods and tosses them in the machine, closes the lid and presses a
button on the washing machine. Shrugging at me, he says, "That was easy,
huh?" Jeez, he's in a good mood... too bad I'm gonna need to ruin it.

Leaving the hamper next to the washing machine, we go back to our bedroom
and empty our backpacks of electronics and whatnot. Done that, I'm trying
to decide how forcefully I should approach my total denial of this 'wife'
bullcrap and I find myself getting more worked up about it by the
minute. What in the fuck was I thinking by agreeing to that? I don't know,
hell maybe it's a prevalent move that married gay couples call themselves
husbands and wife, how would I know that though? We're not in the gay
community at all, not like Hayden who thinks it's a swell idea that I'm
Robby's wife when we're married. Sorry, but it's too alien to me... it just
is.

I'm picking up our empty backpacks and about to bring up the subject
when... oops, Rob just slipped a finger in the waistbands of my shorts and
underwear. I go, "Oh no, not again." He snickers and pulls my pants down
past my slim hips and leaves them just below my buttocks, asking, "What's
it gonna be... with or without help?" He means with or without
lube. Christ, I swear my dick is already getting hard. I'll put off ruining
Rob's good mood for a few minutes. That's the sensible thing to do... sex
has priority over many things, including ruining someone's good mood.

He tugs on the waistband of my jockey shorts and I gulp as my brain
freezes. Robby chuckles and smacks my ass, repeating, "With or without,
Dylan?" I'm like, "Um, ah..." and he pulls my underwear and shorts down to
my knees, then pushes me up against the foot of the bed. Without thinking,
'cause I'm in a sexy trance already, I lean over the bed, my hands on the
mattress for support as I'm pushing my bare ass up. The head of my
hardening boner is touching the mattress and, holy shit, Rob must have
flicked another switch.

He smacks my ass hard, snickers, and then murmurs, "You're so Goddamn sexy
and fun to be with! Jesus, Dylan, I'm so psyched to fuck you I can hardly
control myself. It must be our bedroom. Whenever we're in there it's
like..." and he puts a hand on my left butt cheek as I hear the subtle
sound of his zipper going down and, Omigod, just like that I'm super
aroused. I mean, this is happening so fast! Oh man, I push my ass up more
and, "Smack!" Rob's hand slaps my butt cheeks leaving them quivering, red,
and stinging. Christ, this is hot!

Rob rubs his already firm cock up and down my ass crack and then pushes the
head against my asshole. Yes, this is sex from our early days when we never
used lube. A familiar pain blossoms brightly and I groan but Rob's
apparently as aroused as I am, maybe more, and he keeps pushing until
"Aaaah!" the pain explodes when the head of his fat very-hard cock pops
inside me helped along, thank God, by a pre-cum smear.

Rob's hands rub under my t-shirt, his hands going up and down my back, then
he bunches-up the shirt at my shoulders and tightly rubs his hands down my
sides, murmuring, "I can feel your ribs, baby. I love this slim body of
yours." My anus simmers with pain, but a pain that's fading as it always
does. Rob mutters, "Ahh, Jesus, I almost shot my load!"

Heavy breathing from him as he does more rubbing up and down my back
murmuring something I can't make out. Then with a grunt, he humps his hips
moving his engorged penis two inches further up my ass as my back arches
and I groan. Rob mutters, "Sorry," and then humps the rest of his boner
inside me, his pubic hairs lightly against my butt cheeks now. There's
another half-inch of hard fat cock that needs to tightly get up inside me
and with another thrust, his groin is fully against my buttocks. The pain
hovers, but not as long as I expected. That lube-less entry should have
hurt more... not that I'm complaining.

And I'm already noticing throbbing pleasure from my prostate, plus the pain
is definitely in full retreat as a sort of itchy pleasure around my
ridiculously stretched anus begins sending out tantalizing vibes that make
me squirm back against his groin trying to get his boner up inside me
further. A moan, a coo of pleasure comes from me seemingly without me
knowing it was even forming, it's a long quiet, "Ahhh, mmmm."

Oh yeah, now it feels unbelievably good. I love being filled up like this
and then Rob makes a hissing sound between his teeth as he pulls his boner
back igniting ten trillion nerve endings in my rectum and pleasure ripples
over me like shivers making me shudder and moan, "Oooh, mmmm, Robby...." He
starts with slow thrusting and it's a little rough going at first but as
nature's lubricant, far less effective than Astroglide but still helpful,
begins drooling from Rob's cock it's finally enabling smooth thrusting. In
less than a minute Rob's got it going good and we begin hearing the
slapping sounds of his crotch smacking against my buttocks, and now it's
all sexual pleasure like I fantasize about.

The "Slap, slap, slap," sound gets faster as I start my mantra, "Ooh! Ooh!
Oooh! Rob... Ooooh!" His thrusting gets even faster and my climax begins
building. Four, five, six minutes of ecstasy until I lose track of time and
then my climax is hovering at the tipping point with bright stars forming
in the galaxy behind my eyes. By now I'm lying on the bed, my chest flat on
it with my throbbing boner between my belly and the mattress. Rob's leaning
over me, a hand on the bed on either side of my chest as his hard fat cock
continues thrusting back and forth very tightly in my ass and I'm like,
"Ah, ahh, ahh, ahhhhh!" Rob goes, "Ooooh!" and his blast of cum coats my
insides once then twice, splashes of warmth and creaminess as he humps
against my butt cheeks sending me over the top and I experience one of
those intense orgasms, cum sizzling up my rock-hard boner streaming out to
squish between my belly and the bedspread. I squirm on the bed, only an
airy nothing-sound coming out when I try squealing.

My mind goes blank for a second as I try absorbing the kind of sexual
pleasure that can't be described. Then I manage to squeal as my cock fires
the second string of cum and now I can't catch my breath with my shoulders
shuddering against the mattress and my ass alive with pleasure. My penis is
vibrating against my belly as Robby gasps in a lungful of oxygen, his heart
thundering against my back. Too much going on but then I gulp in a lungful
of oxygen myself and that gets me doing deep desperate breathing as my
heart-pounds too fast and then I'm limp... and then sighing at how good
that felt.

Rob moans and steps back giving my ass a weak smack as his cock pulls out
of me. My hand is under me tightly squeezing my cock 'cause that orgasm was
super special. As my head clears I realize this sex is a continuation of
the fantastic sex we've been routinely having lately... it's all been
spectacular! We mostly use lubricant but Rob's done it without lube
too. Only a few times lately, most recently in Provincetown, but this is
just more of the same awesome sex we're having all the time now, and I hope
it never stops! Talk about a dominant top! Holy shit, Rob's getting
there...

Then the thought comes back to me that I need to change the 'wife'
thingie. Fuck, it's always something! Well, I hope it doesn't screw up this
awesome sex run we've been on but it's gotta be dealt with. Another gasp
from Robby and then he says, "You fucked up the bedspread again." Pushing
myself up off the bed, cum sticking for a second from my body to the
bedspread, I've got my dick in my fist as I pull my t-shirt down, mumbling,
"You're not saying that's my fault, I hope." He's wiping his now flaccid
penis with tissues, and after another deep breath he goes, "I know where my
cum went, so who's cum is on the bedspread?" Oh man, I squeeze my dick
again 'cause it's still sending little stabs of pleasure my way. Robby
laughs then, and says, "And stop playing with yourself!"

As I'm letting go of my penis, Rob reaches around me with Kleenex and wipes
some of his cum off my ass. I say, "First of all that was an excellent job
of fucking me, Rob, and I'm sorry for moving on so quickly to another topic
but I gotta. It's like this, I still feel funny about being a
'wife'. Actually, it's more than that I'm afraid. It's like, well, we need
to change that. Yeah, Rob, it's like I won't go through with the 'wife'
title, or designation or whatever you want to call it."

He stops everything and says, "Are you shitting me? We already talked this
out two or three fucking times, and the other day I suggested we forget the
husband and wife thing altogether, but you said no." I'm like, "Well, never
mind what I said then, um, I was caught up in everything after you flicked
the switch." He goes, "What switch? Dylan, you can't keep changing your
mind from one day to the next. That is immature behavior!" I go, "Me
agreeing to be a, um, your 'wife' was the immature behavior! Don't try
pulling that immature routine on me." He whines, "But, um, we decided." I
go, "I'm sorry, seriously I am, but I un-decided it 'cause I wanna feel
right about us marrying and it can't be as your 'wife'."

No sense mentioning what I'm giving up. Rob can't appreciate my sacrifice,
he wouldn't 'get' how I'm sacrificing the thrill, um, submissive in nature,
of being called his wife, but it's gotta go, I gotta give that submissive
fun up. Not necessarily entirely though 'cause there's still great
potential for having some fun with it, um, but that's for later.

Sure, I assume other gay guys, gay wives, are comfortable with it, but as
I've said, I pretty much needed to make the 'wife' thing a feature of my
sub/dom mind-game before I could think of accepting it, and that's not
nearly enough reason. Not to me it isn't, and that's so clear to me now I
can't believe I ever thought otherwise. It's nowhere near reason enough to
be okay with being a 'wife'. I mean, how would I feel if Chubby heard Rob
refer to me as, 'my wife, Dylan'? Yeah, yeah I know I need to please Robby
more than my brother, but there are exceptions to every rule, especially
rules I make for myself.

So I'm like, "The wife thing is out, Robby, and I'm reconsidering the name
change too." He has this expression as if this is incredulous,
incomprehensible news. He appears speechless but finally mutters, "Name
change? What? Is this one of your jokes?" I go, "It's not a joke but I know
it's sudden. Sort of the way you flicked the switch, and I'm not trying to
be a prick about this but... it's gotta change." He asks, "Flicked what
fucking switch and what about the name or, whaddaya mean anyway, um...?" I
go, "That's secondary, the name, but I might go for it with 'Dickers' after
a hyphen, ya know? You see that occasionally. Sure, I've always felt it
incredibly pretentious, hyphenated names, but maybe as a compromise, ya
know?" Rob's just standing there with a sticky Kleenex in his hand." He
looks flabbergasted, as he goes, "Dylan? Are you joking? I know everything
is a joke to you, but..."

Pulling a tissue from the box, I wipe drooling cum off my ass, saying in a
serious manner, "I'm really sorry to drop this on you, Rob, especially
after that awesome extemporaneous sex, but... Well, no, I'm not joking. I
shouldn't have agreed with the 'wife' idea right from the start, but I
liked seeing you happy. We both need to be happy and comfortable though,
plus I'm thinking about you too. I'm protecting you from people whispering
behind their hand that you're a pompous ass for introducing me as your
wife." He mutters, "More jokes. Can't you be serious!" I WAS being serious!

Pulling up my pants, I nod at Rob's dick that's still hanging out the fly
of his shorts. He puts it away, saying, "This is coming out of nowhere,
Dylan, we had everything settled." I go, "Nothing's ever totally settled,
Rob, 'cause things change. And I'm being serious... no joking
around. Coming back from Provincetown I was thinking about lots of stuff,
none of it directly related to me being your wife, well it did have
something to do with it without me thinking specifically about
it. Subconsciously I was thinking about know-it-all assholes who would
criticize me because it's out of their realm of understanding so it must be
wrong in their limited capacity... wrong to their know-it-all
thinking. Mostly though, I'm not strong enough, um, I don't have enough
confidence in myself to be known as your wife. I'm so sorry about that but
in the large picture it's not that big a deal, right?"

Robby sits in the desk chair with a confused expression, mumbling, 'What?"
I go, "Never mind all that. Um, when I was getting out of the pickup I had
a moment of clarity and I knew something wasn't gonna work. Yeah, I figured
it out just a few minutes ago, before our awesome sex, actually." He shakes
his head and then says, "I don't know what you mean exactly? I want you to
be happy. I thought..." I hold up my hand, saying, "Yeah, I thought it was
okay too and I even double-checked my rationalization meter," he's like,
"Your what?" I shake my head and continue, "I somehow convinced myself I
wasn't rationalizing about being called 'wife', and it's nothing personal,
Robby. Christ, if I was ever going to be okay being a 'wife' it'd be yours,
except I'm not okay with it."

He shrugs, saying, "Well, fuck! Okay, what will we be?" I go, "We'll be
married and everyone can figure out what they want to call us. I don't give
a fuck about what others call me, I don't want to call myself 'wife',
anyone's wife." He looks hurt so I add, "EXCEPT between us... you and me
Yes, I've had fun goofing on being your wife, but between you and me
only. It'll be fine if we keep it among ourselves, then I'm good with being
your wife... just between you and me though. It's fun fucking around with
that, you and me, and yes... I mean joking around. Life isn't all
seriousness, Rob. it was fun fucking around with the swishy stuff too, but
just between us." He goes, "I don't know what the fuck you mean about the
'swishy' stuff and don't get mad again, but I really don't know what you
mean. It went over my 'too serious' head I guess, but forget that. Can you
be clearer about the wife thing?"

Taking a deep breath, I'm thinking this is going so much easier than I
expected. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I say, "Yes, of course, but what
aren't you clear about? I'm not okay with you introducing me as your wife
to anyone. If you do, I'll make fun of it just like I have fun goofing on
it between you and me. Feel free to call me wife between us... but not with
any outsiders. It's you and me, babe. You and me against the world and
we're gonna have fun too even if I need to tie you up and tell you jokes."

He snorts out a laugh, muttering, "Please don't 'cause I'm not sure how
much more joking around I can handle."  I say, "Yeah, okay. Putting joking
aside for the moment, the serious point is I won't be called your wife."
Getting a little angry himself now, he goes, "I never said you needed to be
my wife in the first place! I asked you if you would and you said 'okay'."
I mutter, "And now I'm saying it's not okay... final answer." He stands up
and says, "Okay, we're not husband and wife. Is there anything else?"

Still sitting on the bed, I go, "Hey, our rule is... no pouting!" He nods
his head, saying, "I don't know how to pout. What about the hyphenated
horseshit?" I'm like, "Oh, yeah, I want to keep my old name but I want
yours too, so I was thinking, hey, I'll be Dylan Newman-Dickers. What do
you think about that?" He goes, "Ha! Since when does what I think really
matter? Let me get this straight, I'm in charge of us, but only until you
want to be in charge, right?"

I go, "Don't be ridiculous. You're our leader and you've just shown
excellent leadership ability by realizing the 'wife' designation is not
nearly important enough to put your foot down. You realize, but you're too
nice to say that I don't have a big enough set of balls and I'm not
confident enough in myself to hear, 'Dylan's Rob Dickers' wife'." He grins
and mutters, "You've got a bigger set of balls than you're giving yourself
credit for. You also snuck in there that you don't want to simply be Dylan
Dickers either. What happened to the alliteration you mentioned to me once
or twice?"

We're now walking to the bathroom to clean ourselves up a bit. I go, "Oh
that. Well, I'm too fond of my name, Newman, to give it up entirely, BUT
because I love you, I'm willing to do the pretentious hyphenated thing AND
I'm willing to sacrifice the alliteration thing too although I didn't come
to this decision lightly. So, whaddaya think?" Robby goes, "Done! I'm happy
to get my name included at all. What else?" I'm like, "Jeez, Rob, are you
sure you don't know how to pout?" He snorts out another chuckle, mumbling,
"I'm learning how to do it."

In the bathroom Rob turns the sink's spigot on as I take a piss, asking
him, "So, are we good with these minor changes?" Rob squeezes soft soap on
his hands and starts washing, saying, "You probably won't believe me but I
was feeling weird myself about the 'wife' thing because I knew you never
really embraced it. You had too many sneaky comments about it, but I don't
understand why you didn't bail out on it when I said we should. Why didn't
you?" Wetting my hands, I go, "I'm not sneaky about anything, Robert, and I
don't know why I didn't bail out when you offered. Sorry, but I'm bailing
out now." Rob mutters, "Duh, yeah I picked up on that."

I'm like, "I don't blame you for being a tad upset and I suppose some guys,
celebrity types, are okay being wives but I'm not." He says, "Others too,
Dylan, as Pastor Hope mentioned but we only hear about the
celebrities. Hey, I'm relieved you're finally happy with things." Drying my
hands, I go, "About our date for the wedding..." and Robby goes, "Oh, no
you don't! I've already made arrangements." I say, "You didn't let me
finish, jeez! I was gonna say I'll be glad when it's over and then I won't
need to worry about if I'm good with it 'cause I'll already be married."
Robby goes, "As Dylan Newman-Dickers, huh?" I go, "Yes, as a compromise I'm
going with that. Okay?" He mumbles, "Yes, I'm just as happy with that as I
was three minutes ago."

Holy shit, that went super good! I'm relieved but totally puzzled why I
jerked myself around this long trying to convince myself I was okay with
being a wife. Rob goes, "Now that that's settled again. Um, all kidding
aside, was our sex okay without the Astroglide? I mean, 'cause it's a
different feel... kind of a natural awesome feel for me."

Wow, it's awesome the way Rob's already back to the fun topic of sex,
except I don't know how to answer his question. I mean, it does hurt more
initially without lubricant while at the same time it's dominant of Robby,
which obviously plays into my sub/dom mind games. I shrug and say, "I'm,
ah, well, I think you need to decide that for yourself. It's up to
you... I'm good with whatever you decide." As we walk out of the bathroom,
he mumbles, "That's no help, babe." I go, "Well, okay, I had a ginormously
awesome climax just now. You interpret that any way you want. You're our
leader, so you figure it out."

Rob flops on the bed, avoiding my recent cum shots, and says, "Ya know,
even with your recent, um, latest adjustments to our previously agreed-upon
plans, I'm wicked psyched about what's ahead for us. And I always expected
this would be super fine, you and me together getting married, but it's
exceeding my wildest hopes and dreams and it's all because you're even more
perfect and more fabulous than I thought you'd be when we're married, AND
we're not even married yet. Well, um, we are sort of, right?"

I walk over and lean down to run my fingers through his hair, and then
grabbing a fistful as I kiss him on the lips, then say, "Yep, I am fabulous
and, yep, we are sort of married already, plus you're sort of my husband
and I'm sort of your wife, but no one else is to know that." Robby goes,
"Was that us joking around about it?" I go, "No, it was me reinforcing our
final decision on the matter." He goes, "Are you sure I'm our leader?"

We snicker and I mumble, "Yes, you are. I wouldn't joke about that." Robby
murmurs, "You're unpredictable, Dylan... it kinda takes my breath away,"
and we make out for another minute or so before Rob pulls me down next to
him, saying, "Thank you for everything, baby. We're on the same page at
last... I think," and that's all we say. After a few minutes, I slide off
the edge of the bed and Rob gets up. He goes, "Well, that was fun," and we
put our backpacks away and then do some more cleaning up in the bathroom.

With Rob's arm around the back of my waist, we walk downstairs as he's
saying, "Yeah, two weeks in Provincetown next summer. You and me and maybe
the baby, but probably just you and me." In the family room, we lie on the
sofa together talking about the three-day trip we just had to Provincetown
and not about our recent, um, adjustment to our marriage plans. We can't
decide if we wanna stay in a hotel during our P-Town vacation next summer
or rent a cottage.

When his mom gets home from food shopping Rob and I go in the kitchen and,
as she puts the groceries away answer her questions about our P-Town
trip. Rob answers all her questions with some editing of the facts and then
he says, "Oh, mom, no need to worry about dad having a senior-moment about
Dylan and I being husband and wife. We aren't doing that." She says,
"That's nice, dear, but your father doesn't qualify as 'senior' yet. Um,
whatever you boys decide I'm gonna support you both." Rob gives his mom a
kiss on the cheek, mumbling, "I know that. We both know that, and thank
you."

We stay home Friday night abstaining from booze, then get a good night's
sleep and, consequently, we're feeling good Saturday morning. While having
breakfast with Rob's parents, Mr. Dickers says, "If you two college
graduates are done celebrating and patting yourselves on the back for doing
something four million other kids did about the same time you guys managed
to do it, I got a job for you." Rob and I look up and Mr. D. goes, "Both of
you need to spend three or four hours cleaning the pool house top to
bottom. I want that place presentable for our guests this summer. The pool
is open and I don't want people traipsing in and out of the house. That's
why I had that three-car garage converted into a pool house."

Robby's like, "What the hell? Are you out of your 'effing..." and
Mr. D. points at him, adding, "You'll need to air it out really well too
because it smells like cigarettes in there." Rob goes, "Are you serious?
How about the cleaning people who come to clean in here once a week? Get
then to do it. They're professional cleaners." Mrs. D. is frowning and,
surprisingly I know it's because she's on Rob's side. Mr. D. goes, "They
don't clean pool houses," and Rob's like, "You realize that's a 'chore',
right, Dad?  Cleaning the pool house is a chore, one you assign to high
school kids. There are no more high school kids living here. Hire a
cleaning service!"

Mrs. D. says, "Rob's right, dear. You can't continue giving the boys, our
college graduate young men, chores to do." Cheerfully smirking,
Mr. D. goes, "These two 'boys' are still living under our roof, and until
they're not, they'll get chores to do. Yes, Em, chores! Pass me the
marmalade, please." Robby says to me, "Can you believe this? I guess we're
still teenagers, Dylan. Nice way to spend a Saturday, huh?" I do a fake
cough, muttering, "Something got caught in my..." and Mr. D. says, "And, by
the way, you'll need to vacuum, and then mop that floor because there were
hair clippings on my shoes from walking around in there from when you two
used that place as a barbershop." Rob goes, "Hey, Father, did you ever hear
the phrase, beating a dead horse? We got it the first time!"

That's what we do all Saturday morning and then go back at it again for
another hour after lunch. Motherfucker, when Robby gets into a cleaning
frame of mind he's a cleaning madman. We move everything out to the
driveway, and some of that shit is heavy! When the pool house is empty we
clean that place to within an inch of its life... if it had a life. We both
spend half an hour cleaning the bathroom. When there's nothing left to
clean inside, we clean everything we took out of the pool house one item at
a time before putting it back inside, and when everything is put back where
it belongs the pool house and everything in it shines.

Dirty and sweating we look around at the fantastic job we did and then nod
at one another. After bringing the vacuum cleaner and all the other
cleaning materials inside, and then putting everything where it belongs, we
go directly to our bedroom and fuck as if it's our last fuck on earth, and
we do it without Astroglide again. Sweaty and dirty, we started
roughhousing, rolling on the bed almost wrestling, and then Rob's got my
shorts below my buttocks and his boner out the zipper of his shorts and
started fucking, me on my stomach with Robby pounding his cock up my ass
nuclear hot and sexy! Omigod, eventually my boner burns shooting out a
majestic load of cum... simply the best! And, ya know, I've always kinda
liked grungy rough sex, we don't do enough of it if you ask me.

Panting and sweating, Rob's lying mostly on me although his cock pulled out
of my ass a minute ago. Taking another deep breath, he moves his head so
he's looking at me and asks, "You doing alright, Dylan? I mean, you know,
without the side stuff?" I intuitively know he means without my nonexistent
buddy sex, not the nonexistent lubricant. I give a half-hearted nod, and he
says, "Good! I am too." Meaning he doesn't need side sex now either, and he
hasn't for the last ten months or longer.

When Rob realizes I'm not coming through with a further endorsement of the
no-buddy-sex concept, he mumbles, "Fuck, I was hoping I wouldn't need to do
this. Since I'm our leader at the moment, as you very recently impressed
upon me, I gotta say... let's make it permanent for you too, babe. Are you
ready to close that chapter of our lives? Close down our 'arrangement'."

This topic came up not too long ago and now I want to say yes, but I can't
so I avert my eyes and, sounding wicked disappointed, Rob mumbles, "You
need a little more leeway, huh?" I'm not saying shit, so he goes, "Okay,
but we really need to put a lid on this childhood so-called 'arrangement'
you're still working under." Sounded a little angry now, he adds, "And real
soon, right? Don't you agree?" I mutter, "How soon?" and he says, "Oh, I
don't know, babe, how about the day we're married? Does that seem logical
to you?"

I admit he's right, obviously, but I still have the balls to ask, "Well,
does that limited leeway at least include the other gay friend in our
little gay group?" He knows I mean Hayden since he's the only other gay
friend besides Danny in our so-called little gay group. Rob pushes himself
up, and says, "No, only our good friend and ex-barber. Can I get your word
on that, Dylan?" Well, I guess that's that. Rob apparently needs to
reaffirm some 'in-charge' attitude after the no-wife discussion I had with
him.

Getting off the rumpled bedding, he goes, "Dylan, your word on that,
please..." I mumble, "Yes, you have my word. When you're right, you're
right," and Rob leans over rubbing at a smudge on my chin, as he mumbles,
"Good," and then he rubs salt in the wound, adding, "I was hoping you'd
come to that conclusion on your own so I wouldn't need to be the bad guy,
but..." I mutter, "Sorry," and he goes, "What in the fuck is this smudge on
your chin? I can't get it off..." I shrug and slide off the bed trying to
come up with what I should say now. I mean, I sincerely like that Rob got
right back in his bossy saddle, metaphorically speaking, after getting
bucked off by the 'wife' and name things, but what the fuck can I say when
he's right about this anyway?

No one would be on my side of the argument, which would be Robby
reluctantly indicated some weeks ago that he'd tolerate me having buddy sex
with Danny this summer, and now he's changed it. Oh, wait. yeah... he then
very recently amended that to it'll be okay 'sometimes', but 'not
necessarily any time I want', and now he goes back on that by setting less
than three weeks from now as the deadline.

Well, I can just imagine the incredulous expression on the face of an
impartial arbitrator when I presented my case for continuing having buddy
sex. The arbitrator would be like... 'Let me understand, um, who'd you say
is getting married? Not your buddy-sex buddy, or is it him? Is it your
buddy who's getting married? Not you, certainly.' Asshole arbitrator...

Oh, hell, I knew this was coming anyway. And he said ex-barber too so I'll
bet when we're married he thinks he's gonna put a stop to us getting
haircuts from Danny. While Rob knows I have a thing for Danny, he doesn't
know my crush has gone missing, but then he didn't know about it in the
first place so that's, um, nothing to do with anything.

Okay, Rob's reasserting his leadership role... but why waste it with
haircuts? Well, haircuts aren't the main point anyway and I already
admitted Rob's right to insist on an end to my buddy sex, although it's not
totally fair either. Sure, the reality of the situation is that there are
probably very few married couples who are fine with fucking around on the
side. There are some who do it behind the other's back, but doing it
openly... very few, or why'd they get married? And sneaking around is not
usually an especially healthy thing for married couples to do 'cause it's
probably not going to end well for them. They can hope there are no shots
fired in anger, no bullets flying around, but that's about the best they
can eventually hope for.

Hell, it's just that Rob's and my relationship was so unusual for so long
that I got wicked used to take it for granted. Huh, then I get a simple
'no' from Rob about Hayden, and he didn't even say he's sorry about
it. Nope, it was just like when I asked about innocently having one simple
cigarette, he just said, no!  We're quiet as we do a major job of cleaning
ourselves up in the bathroom. Major job after all that cleaning of the pool
house and then our hot sex. Yeah, don't forget the hot sex! I mutter, "I
see your point, Rob, and I gave you my word... so that's that." He mutters,
"Thank you."

After changing the bedspread, I read my latest book while making a
concerted effort not to pout. After teasing Robby about pouting, even I
must agree, considering I'll be twenty-three this summer, I need to stop
pouting myself. I'm reading on the bed, then I stop to look over at Robby
who's sitting at our desk looking stuff up online. My dick quivers because
he looks so fucking sexy and hot, yet uber cool at the same time and he's
doing the right things with me, setting rules anyone in their right mind
would agree with. I want him to be happy, he deserves to be happy, and he
gave in kinda graciously about the wife and name topics before feeling the
need to reassert himself somewhat as our leader, and I liked that spunk,
but the haircut nonsense is misplaced. He's not perfect and being in-charge
doesn't come naturally to him. He tries so hard though...

Getting off the bed I go over and stand behind Rob with my hands on his
shoulders. He reaches up and holds my right hand, saying, "How ya doing,
babe?" I lean down and rub my cheek against his, murmuring, "I'm
good. You're not mad at me, are you?" Turning his head, he says, "No, why
would I be mad at you? We're good, Dylan... better than good." I hug around
his neck with both arms, mumbling, "Yeah, we are."

Later that night we go to the movies. Danny and Hayden come with us and I
get the hardest boner when Danny gives the back of my neck a squeeze and
then pulls me into him for a tight hug. It's a full-frontal, full-body hug
that feels good. Even without the intensity of my crush, I can't resist
putting my arms around him and hugging back. He smells good as he mumbles,
"You're so cute I think I'll have me a Dylan sandwich later," and then he
slowly licks across my lips as I hold my head steady letting him do it, my
boner throbbing. Then, quickly I glance over at Robby and Hayden inside
buying our tickets.

Heh heh, Danny told Hayden to get their tickets and off Hayden immediately
went to do that. It's odd but I never gave a thought to getting Rob's and
my tickets... neither did Robby. He always gets ours. And now I'm all of a
sudden feeling guilty, embarrassed about getting a boner from a simple hug
from Danny and even though he doesn't know I sprung a boner, I let go of
him and say, "A Dylan sandwich? What a stupid thing to say!" He just grins
at me and then gooses my ass.

Well, it's becoming obvious to me that Rob and I are gonna need to stop
hanging out with these guys. I had this same thought around the pool before
we went to P-Town. As painful as it will be for me not seeing them, I can't
bear to be with them knowing I can't, um, can't ever have them.

After the movie, we stop at a local bar for a few beers and, of course, we
reminisce about our trip to Provincetown. Hayden and I pantomime limp wrist
action and get the giggles with me acting sillier than I normally
am. Christ, I even let Hayden hold my fucking hand during the movie... talk
about being sillier than normal, and missing buddy-sex. Pathetic.

Anyway, I think it's very odd that neither Rob nor Danny seems to mind
anything Hayden and I do. As in Provincetown, maybe they don't notice or if
they do they don't care. After asking Robby about my swishy silliness the
day we came back from Provincetown, I feel free to do whatever I want but
if I don't start getting a reaction from him pretty soon... what's the
point?

Hmm, yeah, I was goofing on the gay affectations in P-Town and Robby said
he didn't notice although he did say I was fucking adorable or
awesome... or something flattering. He's oblivious to it apparently. Oh,
and, haha... yeah, Danny gave Hayden a haircut the day we got back from
Provincetown and it's just like the last haircut he gives Rob, just as
short too. Robby's last haircut was a couple of weeks before we graduated
so he needs one now although the thought never enters his mind. Anyway,
Hayden told me before the movie started that he explicitly told Danny he
only wanted a light 'trim' because he's going to be letting his hair grow
long again all the two years he's going for his Master's Degree. Danny paid
no attention to that... OBVIOUSLY! When does Danny pay attention to
anything anyone wants?

I was nice telling Hayden his hair looks great but he's on this kick that
both of us should grow our hair long. I'm pretty sure Robby wouldn't want
me to have long hair and, of course, I wouldn't even consider it! Certainly
not when I'm working for Dickers & Son. After that, I wouldn't want to give
up my haircut fetish, and that's even though I bitch about having that
fetish.

Rob and I get to bed before midnight and, for the hell of it, I mention
what Hayden said about how I'd look good with long hair. Long hair like
Hayden used to have, which is as long as some women's hairstyles. I'm
curious how strongly Rob will object to the idea so I'm goofing around
making it sound as bad as I can. After that swishy discussion when he
claimed he didn't know what I was talking about, maybe I'll be surprised
what he has to say about this. And I am surprised! Shocked actually because
he tells me it'd be okay with him if I had long hair.

How come I didn't know he felt this way? I'm lifting my head giving him a
'look' as I go, "What?" and he's like, "Yeah, seriously, babe. Why are you
so surprised? Truth is, I told you once you'd be cool with a short
ponytail. I never bothered to mention that again but, yeah, I think you'd
be hot with a ponytail...  a short ponytail." I shake my head, muttering,
"I don't remember that." He pushes my short hair in front back flat against
my head, saying, "A short ponytail but with the hair in front long enough
to pull back over the top of your head from your forehead to be part of the
ponytail. Do you know what I mean? I've seen guys in magazines with that
hairstyle, jocks. It's a sexy look on guys."

Ya never know... do ya? I go, "I don't think I'd like that," and he
chuckles saying, "Oh man, and then when the elastic is off the ponytail,
the long hair would sort of frame your cute face. Um, I don't think I'm
describing it the right way but I think that's a sexy look for a guy with a
face like yours." I guess I have an expression like... what the fuck?
because Robby grins, asking, "Why are you looking at me that way? You'd
look great with long hair; I mean when you're finished with your business
career."

Holy shit! How much more of what Hayden's been telling me is accurate? I
never thought Robby would say that, not that I want a fucking ponytail! As
I alluded to, I like getting haircuts too much. Ya know, with my fetish
providing boners and whatnot. But just the same, I find Rob's response
weirdly interesting.

Here's another thing that's interesting, Robby hasn't felt the need to
mention his new buddy-sex rule again. He stated it, and he was a little bit
pissed off he had to be the mean boss about it, but I still kinda expected
he'd feel the need to talk with me some more about that. Yeah, I expected
he'd want me to know he realizes I'm lacking a little willpower when it
comes to Danny, and Rob would want to show me some understanding by talking
with me more to, ya know, soften the blow or maybe make me sort of feel
like it's our decision, not just his. Something like that, but no. Still, I
always need to come back to him being right about it.

I mean, obviously, there's no side-sex after marriage. The fucked up part
though, one of the fucked up parts of Robby's deadline, and I'd like to
think he didn't plan it this way, but it appears the time I have left will
expire without Danny and I ever having a chance to do it one last time
because he'll be away most of the time that's left, plus Rob and I are
always together anyway. And, no, I'm not on a leash! Ironically it's
actually me who likes being together all the time. So, the bottom line is
Rob never actually gave me a realistic extension in the first place
although, as I said, I don't think he realized that. Rob's not the least
bit devious, and that would be devious.

Sunday, Rob and I go to a Red Sox game at Fenway Park. There's something
special about being at a live professional baseball game on a nice sunny
afternoon. The uniforms are so bright and the grass is so green and it's a
fun lively atmosphere at the ballpark. We don't buy beer there though
'cause it's too much trouble. You need to miss an entire inning in the
tunnel waiting in line, plus the cheapest beers are $8.00 each and they're
served in a fuckin' cardboard cup no less, and the beer isn't all that cold
either!  And at Fenway Park, they card everybody, even grandparents. It
slows down the process and has gotta be one of the stupidest rules ever!

Then on Monday, although we don't need to, we go to a workshop at the
office for summer help, part-timers, and college interns that
Mr. D. suggested we might want to sit in on. Wearing sport coats and
slacks, 'cause we're management trainees, we're out of the house at
ten-of-eight fighting the morning traffic through downtown Framingham. We
sit through the entire seminar but I don't think Robby got anything out of
it. I did though. Yeah, I was looking at it through my HR eyes figuring I
might be conducting this seminar next year, or one like it in the
Westborough office. For that reason, I paid special attention to the HR
woman who was running the show and I thought she did a nice smooth job of,
first of all, not being an asshole, to use a technical HR term. She didn't
do anything to alienate these basically new minds to the business world. I
didn't take notes but I noted her casual sort of 'we're in this together
and I'm on your side' approach. I'll remember that.

We were home at one o'clock, had lunch and then had a swim in the
pool. There's a lot to be said for not having anything you absolutely HAVE
to do, but I can see how it could get boring after a while. So far though,
it's been awesome.

This is the Las Vegas weekend so Rob and I are trying to figure out what to
take with us. The invitation came in today's mail but everyone who's
invited has already heard all the details from either the Rider twins,
Chubby's mom or my mom. But in the event some of the invited guests are
retarded, the invitation is full of all the same information regarding
rooms and airplane tickets and limos and such. Rob and I scrutinize the
details just to be sure we're not retarded and, let me tell you, we're
wicked excited about going to Las Vegas... we just are!

Danny left today for someplace down South where he'll attend the first of
two baseball coaching clinics he enrolled in months ago. We drove him to
the airport and he seemed excited but nervous about the clinic. It was
maybe the first time I've seen him nervous about anything. And then, after
the week down South, he begins his six-week summer-school teaching
program. He won't be teaching physical education or health/sex courses
though, and he told me it's not called 'health' anyway. Modern kids know
about the importance of brushing their teeth and shit like that, so I guess
there's no need for health class anymore. Teaching at summer school will
fulfill Danny's teaching certificate requirements, but to his chagrin,
he'll be teaching ninth grade math to students who, obviously, flunked
ninth grade math. Better Danny than me. Hayden is going with his mom and
her boyfriend to St. Thomas for ten days. An odd place to go in the summer,
but that's where they're going.

So it'll be just Rob and me hanging out until the Vegas trip. Hell, it'll
be just Rob and me most of the week after that as well. Right now we're
sitting in the back yard in our swimsuits as Rob says, "Guess what, babe,"
and I go, "What?" He says, "Your favorite barber is in South Carolina so
what should we do about haircuts before your mom's wedding?" Huh! I was
under the impression Rob didn't want us going to Danny for a haircut
anyway. Rob's trying so hard to be the in-charge leader for us he gets
confused what he's trying to accomplish at times. Funny, but if Danny isn't
the barber... well, I have a lot less interest in getting my haircut and,
anyway, I got one a little over two weeks ago. Rob's last haircut was over
a month ago. Yeah, but fuck it though... I say, "Ya know what, Robert... we
don't need haircuts."

He's like, "You're shitting me, Dylan. I never thought I'd hear you say
that! You're right, of course, but this is your mom's wedding and I thought
for sure you'd... " Interrupting him, I go, "No, we're good! Why should we
be different from most guys?" He shrugs because Rob is like most guys, I
mean as far as getting a haircut is concerned. Him asking me if we should
get haircuts might seem a contradiction of Rob being our in-charge leader,
but it doesn't always come naturally to him and, occasionally, I need to
step in and help him out. We're good though, it's all good.

Still, I can't resist breaking his balls a little. Heh heh, yeah, I know
this bugs the shit out of Rob, so I act innocent saying, "Oh, I forgot
though. Um, we should re-think getting haircuts because both your mom and
dad told us we need haircuts just yesterday?" Robby emphatically goes,
"Hell, I don't care about that! What'd I tell them, Dylan? What'd I say to
them?" I shrug, "Um, I believe you mentioned our age and for them to stop
treating us like kids." He mutters, "There's your answer." Heh heh, he gets
all worked up when they still treat him like he's a kid.

That night Rob and I have dinner with my mom and future step-dad at Tom's
condo. Just the four of us as Tim and Tris are at another of their friend's
house for dinner. Tom talks about this weekend's Vegas wedding even though
he told us about it before. Limos again... yeah! A limo will pick us up. By
'us' I mean Rob and me, Rob's parents, plus Dodger and Josh. The brides and
grooms will dress-up for the wedding that will take place in the hotel
we're all staying at... the Bellagio. That hotel has a facility for
weddings and there will be forty-six people at this one, which the hotel
claims is the usual size of most Vegas weddings.

The twins are not providing transportation or hotel accommodations for
everyone, obviously. They're paying for Rob, me, Chubby and his date,
Mr. and Mrs. Dickers, the twin's parents, their sister, and her husband,
and also Dodger and Josh... and I think that's it. The other guests are
people from their company and old college friends who are all on their own,
expense-wise, but that's not unusual for so-called destination
weddings. Kinda ballsy of the bride and groom to decide on a wedding at
their favorite Island or wherever and then expect their guests to shell out
all that money to come to their wedding, and I suppose they need to give
them a wedding present too, but it's what happens. No wedding presents for
this wedding though. That's what the twins have repeatedly stated.

There will be a dinner reception Friday night and then on Saturday
afternoon the official, albeit short, service marrying the two
couples. After the ceremony a rather elaborate luncheon and then on Sunday
the two married couples go on their honeymoon and everyone else is on their
own, although some of us have prepaid first-class airfare back to
Logan. The hotel rooms and meals are on our tab beginning Sunday, so hmm,
what will we do... stay and pay, or leave?

Obviously, it's a big deal for the four people getting married and it is
for Chubby and me too because, first and foremost, we're thrilled our moms
are happy and taken care of, and we'll have stepdads now. How about that?

At the dinner table, my mom asks about Rob's and my wedding plans and Rob
reminds them briefly about the date but infers the details are still being
worked out. I happen to know everything has already been finalized but I
don't say anything. On the way home, Rob tells me he didn't want to detract
from talk about my mom's and Tom's wedding by talking about ours. Very
considerate of him.

There was one interesting little incident that happened before dinner that
I'm not especially proud of although in my opinion, it was totally
understandable considering the ill-conceived manner in which Rob and I quit
our smoking habit. It happened while Rob was helping Tom do something in
the kitchen. Anyway, I was outside with mom and she lit a cigarette so I
bummed one off her and jeez, it made me so dizzy but at the same time, it
was an awesome rush. Mom asked me, "Didn't you give up smoking, Dylan?" I
mutter, "Yes, I'm in the process of doing that for the second time now, um,
no need to mention this to Rob." She laughed and said, "Your brother is
doing the same thing. He decided to quit gradually." Ah-ha! Chub is using
the same sensible process... a much more sensible weaning process. He
didn't tell me about it though. Wait'll I talk to him! Oh, wait a second, I
didn't tell him I was doing it either... so never mind.

Then, Thursday night at dinner Rob's mom, out of the blue says to me, "You
and your mom will have 'new' last names soon, Dylan. I'll bet that doesn't
happen too often, a mother and son accepting new last names within a month
of each other." Mr. D. deadpans, "How about it's 'never' happened before."
Robby goes, "You don't approve, Dad?" He goes, "I don't approve or
disapprove, son. The world is changing and I've no problem with it, unlike
my golf partners who think everything was better when they were in their
twenties." Mrs. D. says, "They're old fuddy-duddies, Robert." Rob goes,
"Well, Dylan and I decided he's keeping his last name and adding mine with
a hyphen." His mom says, "I like that idea better," and to me, she asks,
"Will it sound funny, Dylan, when your mom is Mrs. Deborah Rider?" I say,
"That sounds a little funny, yes, but mostly because I never hear anyone
call mom Deborah. She's 'Dee' to everyone and I like the Riders so much,
mom's new last name will sound okay to me."

I discussed with my mom about taking Rob's last name a week or so ago and
she had an interesting 'take' on it. And, by the way, from what I've read
it seems most gay married guys do NOT do the name-change thing. Anyway, mom
told me, "Dylan, you and Rob do what's right for you two. My heart is
bursting with happiness for you both." I mumbled, "Gee, thanks, mom," and
then she added, "You've found love early in your life and I remember the
intensity of my first... ah, the point is, um, I think it's a fine thing to
do. Taking his last name shows your commitment to Rob. Don't worry about
that for a single minute, Dylan." And here's what I meant by 'strange
take'. Mom said, "I've lived with the last name of my father since I was
born, the name of my parents who wouldn't stand by me when I was a
seventeen-year-old girl who desperately needed their support... oh, well,
haha, this isn't about me. You and I darling, we'll leave that name behind
without giving it a second thought," and then we hugged as mom cried a
little. I hope she was honest that her tears were tears of happiness for
me, but maybe some of them were about her parents not standing by her when
she was pregnant with me.

Actually, I haven't told her of my latest decision to do the hyphenated
last name, but I will next time I call her, probably today. But, yeah, I've
always kinda liked the last name 'Newman'. It doesn't have any negative
meaning for me although it obviously carries some baggage for my mom, and I
had no idea she felt that way. Dee Newman is what I've known my mom as all
my life... but, as I told Mrs. Dickers, my mom as Dee Rider is perfectly
fine with me too. I never met my mom's parents, my grandparents, and I was
never sure why. Maybe now I know why.

Anyway, at dinner, Mr. and Mrs. D. were talking about the Rider twins who
they seem super impressed with, both Tom and Tim. Mr. and
Mrs. D. apparently like limos, and first-class air travel, and prepaid
hotel accommodations, and why wouldn't they, but they like the men
personally as well. Everyone does. Plus, they did not expect to be included
in the 'family' group but I'm sure glad Tim and Tom included them. It makes
me proud to have Tom as my step-dad because I almost think of the Dickers
as my second parents. It'd be too corny to tell them that, or even say that
to Rob, but I hope they all see from my demeanor and behavior the respect
and love I have for them, and how much they've come to mean to me.

So, yeah, Mr. D. especially was impressed with everything and, as he began
eating his second slice of apple pie for dessert, he goes," Well, Em, guess
we'll need to get more than toasters for the two newlywed couples' wedding
gifts, huh?" She goes, "Oh, for heaven's sake, Robert! The boys will think
you're serious." Rob goes, "Actually, if you take the time to look at the
invitation, you'll see there's a... 'Please, no wedding presents'. That's
what Tom said, right Dylan?" I nod, "Yes, Tom told us when we were there
for dinner, we should remind everyone... no wedding gifts." Mr. D. mumbles,
"Very sensible approach." Mrs. D. goes, "Robert, for heaven sakes!" She's
stuck on that phrase, I guess.

When everything is planned properly you can expect everything to go
perfectly, and everything did go perfectly. Every minute of the Las Vegas
weddings, one thing after another, went smoothly. Not one thing went wrong
Friday, Saturday, or Sunday...not as far as Rob or I could tell. From the
minute we were picked up by the limo service, right through the weekend,
everything went flawlessly. And then our first-class flight back to Boston
on Monday was perfect as well. Flying first class is a totally different
experience too, and I mean right from the check-in process to waiting in
the first-class lounge, to the attentive first-class service in our large
first-class seats. Yeah, everything is so much better... there's simply no
comparison to flying coach.

And, yes, it was a very cool time in Las Vegas too... it's called
tinsel-town. I think I read that somewhere, and there are definitely a lot
of neon lights there. The hotel was like a busy city within the city of Las
Vegas and it's easy getting lost... I did. Slot machines are everywhere and
the temptation is great to play them, and we did, and we didn't win a
million-dollar jackpot that turned out to be
three-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollars either, but we had fun losing our
three hundred dollars. Well, we won some jackpots of a hundred dollars that
we put right back in the fucking glitter machines, and the machines kept
everything the second time.

Rob and I were too intimidated to play blackjack or any gambling game, even
roulette because there seemed to be rules, we weren't aware of and we
didn't want to be embarrassed. The TV in our room had programs that teach
the rules and how to play gambling games but we never took the time to
watch the shows.

There were forty-some people at the dinner Friday night, and then the
wedding ceremony on Saturday afternoon, and then there was food and drink
that followed the wedding for three to four hours. I didn't hear a single
negative comment about anything from anybody. The wedding facility on the
thirtieth floor has a long balcony outside a wall of French doors and we
were out on the balcony a lot because the views from way up there, views of
Las Vegas and beyond are spectacular. Smokers rudely smoked out there too,
their disgusting second-hand smoke drifting past us nonsmokers... rude!

Rob and I had this huge room with a big over-sized bed, bigger than a
king-sized bed. We had sex six times on that bed doing 'it' sideways and up
and down and all around. Every way we could think of, the bed was big
enough to handle it. My mom and Tris were like Cinderellas all
weekend. They both cried with joy now and then, but they always do that
when they're happy, or happy for someone else. I get my too-emotional gene
from mom.

Tim and Tom seemed to be casually floating through everything with
style. They did it in a way that made everyone comfortable, exactly like
they did at our graduation dinner, and then they sincerely thanked all of
us for coming as if we'd done them this great favor of accepting their
generous gift of a first-class weekend the likes of which none of us is
likely to experience again. We told them, you're welcome. No, we
didn't... we thanked them profusely, congratulated them and wished for them
happiness always.

So, Monday morning Rob and I are both dealing with hangovers again, plus
some sunburn because lying around a swimming pool in Nevada during the
month of June, well it's quite hot with a very hot sun so if you're not
careful, ya know? We're standing at baggage claim in Logan airport as
Robby's saying, "Where in the fuck is our limo guy? Are we supposed to
carry our own luggage?" I go, "That can't possibly be the case!" Yeah, no
more luxury treatment for us.

We had a great time, but you know what? That was all of the Las Vegas
experience I need for a lifetime. It was too 'high-roller' for the likes of
little old me. Haha, most of the time I felt like a hayseed from
Hicksville. Well, okay, it's tacky and crass as anyplace I can imagine as
well. Still, Rob and I wandered around on our own looking at everything
like... wow! When we were part of the functions the twins arranged,
however, I felt like some rich guy, saying, "Yes, I'll have another," to
the obsequious waiters and waitresses who simply couldn't do enough for
you. It was fun to do once, but once was enough for me

Chubby and his date, Judy, a sweet and likable cute little thing who Chub
appears to be quite 'taken' with, plus Dodger and Josh are staying the rest
of the week. They're also taking a side trip for two days, although I
forget where... L.A. probably. They're still very much enjoying being in
their early twenties and living 'that' to the fullest, and that's certainly
not a bad way to go. Sure, it definitely has some allure for me too, but
I'm happy going with Rob on our own real-life-adventure. We'll very soon be
a married couple having a family and it might sound like I'm rationalizing,
and I am a little, but I'm honestly okay with everything now that we
straightened out the husband and wife thingie... and the name thing. Minor
matters that needed adjusting.

We take a cab home from Logan airport to the tune of $110 out of our own
pocket, so our gravy train definitely stopped at Logan where reality reared
its ugly head again. The two married couples are Honeymooning in Hawaii but
only for a week because the guys need to get back to work. I overheard Tim
and Tris talking and the word 'baby' was spoken. And during the reception
after the wedding, Mom mentioned I'll 'maybe' be a big brother and how
would I like that? So, I suppose both couples are talking about having a
baby, and I'm pretty sure they know how to do it. The guys are certainly
young enough although mom and Tris are both either forty-one or forty-two,
I forget which. I suppose that's not too old to get pregnant... although
their window for that is closing quickly I would think. Wouldn't it be
amazing if mom and Tris both got pregnant at the same time... AGAIN!
Jeffrey and Dylan the second except they won't be brothers. I'm guessing
they'll probably come up with different names.

Now it's less than two weeks until Rob's and my wedding day, which will be
slightly less luxurious than the Vegas weddings. Yes, but we don't feel
self-conscious about that at all. We're comfortable with our plans which
include inviting a small group to the wedding and a luncheon reception that
will follow. Rob and I will be leaving for a hotel near Boston's waterfront
immediately after the small reception because the next day we're off on a
seven-night cruise... a Royal Caribbean cruise, Boston to Bermuda. We could
have gone to Alaska but Bermuda sounded better and, fortunately, fit our
timetable. We've got middle-grade accommodations, both of us surprised how
much that shit costs. Anyway, they call it a cabin, a balcony cabin, also
known as a Veranda. Inside-cabins without portholes, I think that's what
windows are called on a ship, are cheaper although not cheap enough to make
it worth me going bananas with claustrophobia!

When Rob told his parents 'we're' paying for everything wedding-related he
meant 'he' is paying for it, or eighty percent of it. I contributed
everything I had left in my debit account. That amount doesn't even cover
the luncheon reception after the wedding which, by the way, will take place
in a church in Natick... the wedding, not the reception. The church we
chose welcomes same-sex marriages, obviously. It's called the United Church
of Christ. Rob researched a number of churches and we eventually decided on
this one. Well, first he and I had an exploratory quick visit with the
Pastor, who I believe is gay although that was never discussed.

Neither Rob nor I are what you'd call 'religious' individuals although his
parents are members of a Catholic church, one they rarely attend. No
offense to the Catholic churches but this nondenominational church is the
one we feel comfortable with. A justice of the peace was my first choice by
far, but I'm okay with a low-key service in an unpretentious church as a
second choice. The Hilton hotel in Natick is where our reception luncheon
will take place, mostly because it's not too far from the church.

We've arranged a car service for places we need to be during the day of our
wedding, the day after the wedding, and when we get back from the
cruise. We didn't want the hassle of our cars being involved and don't want
friends or family driving us because we want to say goodbye after the
luncheon and be on our way, just the two of us.

There are many other things, many details, that needed taking care of and
Robby did most of the research and then we decided together what worked
best for us. He likes doing the research and I tried to go along with what
he felt was best, which is why my comment was often... 'sounds perfect' or
something like that. We had very little trouble agreeing because we were
both willing to compromise and, surprisingly, now I'm nervously excited
about it all.

When deciding about the cruise for our honeymoon I started getting nervous
about the money situation. I mean, Rob had pretty much tapped out his bank
account. He wasn't worried though and he told me why. His grandparents gave
him $200 worth of Apple stock as a gift for his second birthday. Actually,
it was probably more a present to their daughter I suppose, but
Mrs. D. saved it for Robby and told him about it when he graduated high
school. He didn't need the money then so he still has the stock and it's
now worth almost $20,000. He's gonna cash it in, or whatever it's called
when you turn in stocks, and that will be our money to live on until we
start working. It seems like way more than we'll need and then when we're
working we'll be even more golden, money-wise... and I'm hoping in every
other way as well.

Most of the week following Las Vegas, as I said, Hayden and Danny are away
so Robby and I mostly hang around the house and the swimming pool, only
going out to bars two nights just to get out of the house. I'm now resigned
to my buddy-sex deadline set by Rob and I'm pretty much over my
disappointment because... well because it's right. Ever since Rob flicked
the switch I've been kinda turned on by his efforts to be the leader for
us. The leader I've encouraged him to be like forever. Sure he overdoes it
at times, but I think it's sweet that he's trying so I have no problem
overlooking an occasional blip. Frankly, I'm pretty fucking psyched about
us being married in that not many guys our age has the balls to try it and
I think we're just special enough to pull it off. So that's cool.

We eat most meals with his parents but other than that it's just Robby and
me in our private world. He's in charge but always willing to reconsider
something if I object, while at the same time there's that subtle
something, that subtle knowledge we both are aware of now, an unspoken
understanding that Rob's got the last word when we get right down to
it. Hard to explain, but he and I understand it and that's everyone who
needs to.

The Saturday before our wedding Danny is back from his baseball coaching
clinic and the three of us go out for some beers and maybe shoot a few
games of pool at a local watering hole. While Robby's talking with an old
high school friend at the bar, I tell Danny about Rob's deadline for me. He
shakes his head and says, "That really sucks for us, baby. The thing is
though, I would have done the exact same thing if it were gonna be you and
me. Well, hell, I wouldn't have allowed you doing any so-called buddy sex
at all in the first place, so there wouldn't have been any need for a
deadline." Jeez, well fuck you! No, I understand, sort of.

Shrugging, I'm like, "Well, fuck! I mean, don't you care that we can't do
it?" He looks wicked serious, murmuring, "Of course I do! Don't be
stupid. It's gonna hurt bad, but I gotta respect Rob's wishes, and he knows
I will too. I'm not going to be a sleaze who fucks with another guy's
wife." I give him a' look' and he goes, "You know what I meant... not wife,
um, what should I call you when you're married? I suppose Rob will be the
husband." I go, Call me Dylan. How 'bout that?" He goes, "Don't get mad,
Dylan. I don't know what you guys are doing. You're both too young to get
married anyway. If I had more time..." Cutting off that train of thought, I
go, "No, I'm not mad."

I won't tell him about the husband and wife discussion we had because
that's private between Robby and me. Danny says, "Anyway, baby, if we were
a couple living together you'd be my wife so I thought..." I go, "Well,
Danny, that's not, um... well, ya know, that's not the case so why talk
about it?" Danny bites his bottom lip, nodding his head and then he
brightens-up, saying, "Hey, I'm kinda proud of you for telling me about the
deadline though. I mean, before Rob tells me. And he will set me straight
on that because he doesn't back away from responsibility. I'm glad you told
me because now I'll be able to tell him... hey, Dylan already told me this
shit. See, and I know he'll be proud of you for facing up to it too."

Well, fuck me! This bullshit isn't what I expected to hear from Danny, not
at all! He's too agreeable to Rob's deadline and he even said I'd be his
wife! What's with these guys?

After glancing over at Robby, who's still talking with the tall skinny guy,
Danny taps the back of my hand, saying, "I'd like to fuck you right now,
baby, and that's the truth. Ya know, before you get married but we'd never
get away with it. So, sure, I'm gonna miss it! Probably a lot more than I'm
admitting to myself now. We'll always have our..." I interrupt him,
muttering, "Yeah-yeah, our memories... yadda, yadda, yadda. Sorry, but I
gotta take a piss." I get up as Danny's saying, "Dylan?" like a question,
but I keep going. I expected some other response from him and I guess I
don't know what it should have been but I'm not thrilled with the response
I got. Too much agreeing with Rob I guess. I left abruptly because I was
afraid I'd do something or say something stupid if I stayed there. I mean,
even stupider than what I just did.

Yeah, well, this is my life moving forward and I'm good with it... I am!
First, I just gotta deal with this 'no buddy-sex' horseshit and a few other
things, get over a couple of things, but overall it's all
good... everything will be good once I settle in and get in a
routine. We're not gonna see much of Danny for most of the summer anyway!
Starting Monday he's full time into teaching ninth-grade math to students
at Framingham High's summer school. After each class, he told us he'll be
studying from the teacher's guide preparing for the next day's class 'cause
he wasn't all that great at ninth grade math himself. Bottom line... he's
not messing around with this. Danny knows he needs to take it seriously,
and that's what he's doing. So, because of that, I don't bring up getting a
haircut in his garage barbershop. That's right, I'm considerate.

When we drop Danny off around midnight though I'm mentally kicking myself
in the ass for not bringing it up... mentioning I need a haircut, and Robby
especially! That was a missed opportunity to at least get a good haircut
before the wedding... of course, minus the screwing afterward. Better than
nothing but it would have been imposing on Danny who's concerned about his
teaching responsibilities, and I noticed Danny didn't mention haircuts
either. Still, if I had said something...

So the week goes on, Danny's teaching and as for Hayden, he returned from
his trip on Tuesday and we talked on the phone. He's gonna be hanging out
with Terrence, his next-door neighbor as they've made some plans for
something. He explained it but I wasn't paying attention because I was a
little pissed off he wasn't coming over here. He told me he also wants to
reconnect and spend some time with the young ladies, his girl-friends who
he says call themselves his fag hags. I'll see Hayden from time to time
probably, but not much until Danny's finished all his summer
obligations. It's just that Hayden said something about without Danny being
here too, he's still intimidated by Robby. I don't see why he feels that
way because Rob's been very friendly toward Hayden, so it's just in his
head I suppose.

So, yeah, it's pretty much Robby and me doing everything together, just the
two of us and it's occurred to me that we're doing everything the way
Chubby and I dealt with life together for almost seventeen years... pretty
much exclusively just the two of us. Rob gets calls from old teammates of
his from high school who want him to play ball or hook-up for some beers,
but Rob turns them down because he doesn't want to exclude me and he knows
I don't want to go with him to hear old jocks reiterating their glory days
in high school. So Rob makes up excuses for why he can't do, um,
whatever. It's like Robby took the torch from Chubby and he believes I
actually am his responsibility now. Yeah, somebody's gotta take care of me.

No, I'm not serious! I'm freakin' kidding about that! Christ Almighty, I
don't need anyone taking care of me! I only joke about it. Rob and I also
get texts and a few calls from our college friends and I get a text now and
then from an old, um, buddy who surprises me by wanting to grab a
beer. Haha, I know what that means... they're old side-sex buddies. Then a
few posse boys want haircuts and to all of them I'm polite but I don't
trust myself yet about the side-sex possibilities, so I avoid them. It's
partly lazy and partly... well, I don't trust myself, okay?

Chubby's been away but we text a lot and then yesterday he got back from
his trip to someplace in Europe with the twins'. Chub was just observing
what a business trip is like, and now he's immediately involved with his
intern duties at The Rider Group's offices and he told me that after work
he usually has a few cocktails with whoever he was interning with during
the day. Chub's very social like that. So, as I expected I haven't seen
anything of Chubby since Las Vegas.

Rob and I find things to keep us occupied as we count down the days until
our wedding. I've checked myself out carefully, again, and find no serious
second thoughts about where I'm headed, but I am anxious to put the wedding
behind us. To entertain myself now and then when Robby and I are out and
around town I've been 'acting' especially gay but Robby still either
doesn't notice or, at most, I'll get a snicker out of him and he'll grab me
for a hug saying something like, 'You're so fucking cute, babe' or some
such shit like that. It's unbelievable. Well, as I said if I can't get more
of a response from him than that I'm giving it up even though I get
laughing at myself at least. The fact I'm doing that in the first place is
also probably an indication I'm finally getting a little bored. Anyway, I
texted Hayden about it yesterday and he texted me back telling me I must be
doing it wrong. Doing it wrong? Is there a right way... haha?

Obviously, entertaining myself by trying out my 'swishy' act is because of
Hayden's influence during our Provincetown trip and, at the same time, I'm
conscious of how susceptible I am to forming something new into a habit,
like smelling the back of my hand, for example, so I ought to watch myself
with this shit. And, no, I'm not following Hayden's gay affectations so
much as I'm taking some of his experienced advice about NOT giving a shit
what everybody thinks. I'm practicing not caring by trying to flaunt some
gay behavior in their faces. I got that much from the Hayden Parks'
Provincetown-lectures.

Yes, I've been doing gay-affectation play-acting for fun, not mocking or
hurting anyone's feelings though, and apparently not being noticed
anyway. Here's the thing... almost everyone 'acts' at something and they're
not doing it for shits and giggles, they're serious about it. Yep, more
people are 'acting' than you might think... 'acting' at least part of the
time. I totally believe that people, all of us, 'act' the way we perceive a
person in a certain position should 'act'. Seriously, we all take our clues
from observing either consciously or unconsciously the way people 'act'. If
we're a, um, bank president or insurance agent, doctor, lawyer... whoever,
we 'act' how we think a person in that position should 'act'. Probably not
everyone, but most people 'act' the way they think they should, which isn't
necessarily the way they'd prefer to act, but it becomes 'them' after a
while. A hard-hat guy 'acts' crude by cursing, whistling at girls and
saying 'motherfucker' a lot, and a baseball player spits all the time and
blows his nose on the ground, a lawyer wears a suit and 'acts' superior,
heart surgeons 'act' like they think they're a 'God', etc...

And taking this topic further, personally... Rob told me the company will
need us in the positions we were hired for sooner than anticipated. So I'll
only be 'acting' as a trainee, meaning bright-eyed and attentive, for a few
months before I'll need to 'act' like an HR district manager in Rob's
Westborough office. That's where he'll be 'acting' as the big boss. Fuck,
I'll need to keep my 'acts' separated until my final 'act' as a baby's
caregiver and dad when I'm the stay at home dad 'acting' like a stay at
home dad. By the way, I'm not convinced that's what'll happen, but I'll
deal with that when the time comes. I actually do want to have one or two
kids, I'm with Robby on that, but I might want to work for longer than he
has in mind. No sense fighting that battle now though.

In any case, the real world for 'actors' like Rob and me is rushing on at a
blinding speed now and I hope we're ready for it... I think we're ready for
it but there are a number of adult-like acting skills required, so...

Well, there's something that requires little to no 'acting' by Robby and
me, something I can always rely on, and it's our sex life. Since the
flick-the-switch incident, our lovers' sex has been the best ever, off the
fucking charts and more frequent than ever before. The increase in that
area hasn't reduced the times we still get into our fun extemporaneous sex
along with our rough-housing sex too including a return to our days of
being too horny to take the time for lubricant. Yes, after Rob's 'flicked
the switch' everything about our sex life is better and he's got extra
confidence that I choose to interpret as him being a little extra
dominant. A good guess would be Rob's subconsciously getting into our
private husband and wife 'acting' roles a little prematurely.

It's kinda funny that it's taken me all these years to realize Rob likes
that it's us 'hanging' together most of the time. He doesn't appear to be
missing playing baseball with old teammates for pick-up games or a few
beers while talking about past 'glory days' with the guys. It's been mostly
just me and Rob against the world the past month or so. Is this likely to
continue into the future? Of course not! We're not preteens or teenagers as
Chubby and I were when we faced the world two against everybody. It would
be unhealthy if Rob and I continued this loners 'act' into our married
life. Oh, sure, for a little while perhaps but soon we need to join the
world again which we'll do. Hopefully, as a married man, I can rejoin the
world more responsibly in certain areas than prior to being married. A
couple of important areas and I'm determined to do that, ya know... as best
I can.

Here's a development neither Robby or I expected nor are we especially
psyched about it. It's Danny and Hayden insisting we go out drinking with
them Friday night before the wedding... a bachelor party type thing. We've
tried steering clear of emulating stereotypical wedding traditions that
have been going on for centuries, but we've ended up doing many of the same
things anyway. It's very thoughtful of Danny and Hayden but neither of us
wants to be hungover for our wedding. Danny doesn't take 'no' for an answer
plus, as I said, it's very thoughtful of him and Hayden so that's what
we'll be doing this Friday night.

Today is Wednesday so we don't need to deal with that now. Now what we need
to deal with is a one o'clock appointment with Pastor Hope at the
church. This will be our second visit with him and this time he's going
discuss what he has in mind for our quick marriage ceremony, and then there
is remuneration necessary for the use of the church, and the Pastor too.

We get there on time and after shaking hands and some small talk we all sit
down in his study. Robby says, "I've, um, that is we've been thinking about
some things we definitely don't want to do as part of the, um, ceremony so
I thought I'd mention what they are." Pastor Hope nods his head and Rob
goes, "We're not walking down the aisle, we're not having best men, and no
one is 'giving away' anyone, and we don't want to..." the pastor
interrupts, "Oh, no bridesmaids or ring bearer?" We're startled for a
second but then we chuckle when the pastor laughs. After chuckling, he
says, "I'm sorry. Believe me, I take this very seriously. You boys seem a
little uptight though and I was hoping to relax you. By the way, you're a
staggeringly beautiful couple... just saying." Taken aback by that too, Rob
and I sort of mumble, "Huh, um, thanks..."

So, that's how it started. Rob finishes his list of things we're not doing,
all of which I endorse one hundred percent. In fact, I'd like to eliminate
almost everything, but... Well, whatever. The pastor pretty quickly
convinces us of his conscientiousness about making the ceremony both
meaningful and comfortable, not only for us but for those in attendance as
well. He wants to know if we'll be exchanging wedding bands, which we will
be doing and then Pastor Hope tells us at the beginning of the ceremony
he'll take a few minutes reflecting on the meaning and commitment of love
and marriage and blah, blah, blah. Rob and I nod our heads at
that... whatever.

Then the pastor asks personal questions about the length of our
relationship 'cause he likes to mention a few details during the
ceremony. How we've been roommates and best friends through college and us
living together last year and how we've been, um, boyfriends for over five
years, etc... He tells us he admires our devotion to one another by
marrying and blah, blah, blah. All of which Robby and I nod our heads,
again, mumbling, "That's good, uh huh."

He delicately asks how we'd like to be referred to at the conclusion of the
ceremony. Robby says, "We thought about being husband and wife, but decided
it's not for us. Not that there's anything wrong with being husband and
wife, ya know? We're just not gonna do that now. Right, Dylan?" I shrug and
the pastor tells us that some gay couples he's married adopt the hetero
husband and wife designations and, "More so recently now that a number of
celebrities have done so and I suppose there's, um, a trend in that
direction. For purposes of the ceremony, however, I advise against it as a
general rule because some people might find it, um, too progressive or,
well... you're not doing it anyway, so..." Robby and I look at each other
and the pastor says, "It's just that in my experience, for the comfort
level of all your guests, using your names when pronouncing you married
might be better. What do you fellows think about that?"

We look at each other again, and then at the pastor, and Rob says, "Sure,
our names, yeah... right, Dylan?" I go, "Are you sure you don't want to go
with husband and wife, Robert?" He snorts out a laugh trying to make it
sound like a fake cough, but he's never been able to pull that off. Shaking
his head, he says to me, "Perhaps once we've been married we can try your
suggestion, babe."

The pastor smiles, apparently recognizing a little ball-busting when he
sees it. He's very nice as he says, Well, okay, we'll go with Robert and
Dylan. Um, how about if after the ceremony is complete I simply say... 'Now
that you, Robert, and you Dylan, have exchanged vows, with the power
invested in me... blah, blah, blah... I pronounce you in holy wedlock and
you may kiss one another as a sign of your devotion, blah, blah, blah.'
Something like that. Whaddaya you think?"

I'm looking at Robby with a concerned expression as if there's something
controversial about that, which there isn't, obviously. From Rob's facial
expression I can read his mind... Stop joking around!... that's what he'd
like to tell me although I can also see he's also controlling a snicker. He
takes a deep breath and says, "Excuse us, Pastor Hope, we're a little
nervous but, yes, that'll work wonderfully." I go, "Um, hmm, yeah, I'm
going go with what you and the pastor suggested, Rob." Rob tries not to
grin, saying, "You're okay with us not being husband and wife, huh, wife?"
I make an overly serious expression, mumbling, "Yes, what the Pastor
said. Using our first names will be perfect." Pastor Hope smiles and says,
"I can see you two will have fun together." Robby shrugs and mutters,
"Dylan's a bit of a jokester," and I say, "I'm teaching Robert how to have
a sense of humor." Pastor Hope says to Rob, "I see you're gonna have your
hands full," and he tells us a story about a couple that for the life of me
I can't imagine why he thinks we'd care, but we nod our heads and grin when
he chuckles at what must have been the point.

Moving along, Robby gives Pastor Hope our marriage license and after the
ceremony, it'll be official in the eyes of the law. The pastor has more to
tell us but it's more stuff we don't care about, and we're like, "Sure,
that's fine, uh huh." He estimates ten to fifteen minutes as the length of
the ceremony so, yeah, apparently he'll have more than a few words to say
at the beginning but that's okay. Rob and I will only need to repeat the
vows the pastor says, including 'I do'... and that's it. We're NOT reading
some corny poem to each other, or making some kind of profound statements
to one another creating awkwardness beyond belief, which seems to be
another trendy thing to do. Um, not that there's anything wrong with doing
that, you understand. We're just not gonna do it.

As I've mentioned before, we've never wanted it to seem like we're trying
to replicate a male and female traditional wedding. We're not stupid, we
know we're not traditional. Same-sex marriages will never be a
'traditional' wedding no matter how hard some same-sex couples try to make
it seen otherwise. Traditional is traditional... it's already been
established what's traditional is, and it's a man and woman marrying and we
ain't that. We're non-traditional which doesn't make it any less important
or worthwhile or special... um, that is, for those same-sex couples who
feel the need to marry.

Walking from the church to the pickup, Robby says, "Well thank you so much
trying to get me laughing in Pastor Hope's face." I go, "He likes a little
joking around. He started it with the bridesmaid bullshit." Robby snickers
and goes, "I was joking, babe. Jeez, get a sense of humor!"

I go, "Oh, okay but what do we do now?" He goes, "Next, up, babe, I've made
three o'clock appointments for us at Ricardo's Men's Salon in Wellesley for
haircuts. It is our wedding day Saturday and while YOU didn't feel we
needed to get spiffed up for your mom's wedding, we're gonna be spiffed up
a little for ours." I glance at him squinting my eyes, making a 'face',
muttering, "A salon, you say?" He ignores that and he puts his arm across
my shoulders, adding, "We have time for lunch first, so where do you wanna
have lunch?" I go, "Someplace we can get an 'effing drink or two,
obviously." He brightly says, "Yeah, okay. How about the Wellesley Inn?" I
mumble, "Yeah! I've been there. I forget when, but I know it's kinda
classy."

Omigod, the way he just told me we're getting haircuts at some jerk-off
salon... he's on a roll! The thing is, I botched the opportunity to set up
haircuts with Danny the other night, plus, what the fuck, I want Rob to
feel he's taking charge again. I mean after I put the kibosh on the wife
thingie it's good to see he's still moving along making decisions for
us. Why do I want Robby taking charge you might ask... because I don't
wanna do it, that's why! I don't want to be planning ahead all the
time... I'm a guy for the moment, ya know? Um, no, I don't know what that
means either. Rob's more responsible, that's all.

And, no, there isn't any sense arguing now that I want Danny to do my
haircut... our haircuts. That ship sailed when I missed the opportunity the
other night. Then it would have been too awkward for Robby to object but
then, Danny's got other things he needs to do anyway. Plus, most noteworthy
to me is Danny not mentioning doing our haircuts. Once he's through his
summer responsibilities, we'll see...

Inside the restaurant, we order an old man's drinks again, Manhattans and
fuck anyone who sneers at it. Rob also orders us some spicy chicken wings
to snack on with the cocktails. After I finish off a chicken wing, I'm
like, "Not Danny's garage barbershop, huh, Robby?" He shrugs, "He's wicked
busy with that teaching program, Dylan, and I think this is a better way to
go, babe. Start fresh, cold-turkey so to speak." He puts his hand on mine,
asking, "Okay? You with me on this?" I nod my head, mutter, "For now, but a
salon?" and take another chicken wing. Rob pats my hand and mutters,
"Good... yeah, I'm hoping you'll think it's cool and, um, thanks for not
giving me a lot of shit about it! You're awesome." Taking another wing, I
go, "I know..."

In Ricardo's Men Salon I see two youngish barbers... or hairstylists. I'm
sure that's what they call themselves. I stand here looking around as Rob
checks us in at the front desk with an attractive woman who immediately
gets us set up in separate little rooms where, in my room, a very gay young
man shampoos my hair telling me I'm the best-looking patron he's ever done
a shampoo for and he thinks he saw me in 'People' magazine. What a nice
kid. Too bad about his nose though... He's due a nice tip.

Oh, that reminds me, as we were driving to the, um, salon Rob told me what
the protocol appears to be for the salon. From comments online about this
place, it's a 4.2 rating out of 5, by the way. I wonder how many times the
people who work there recorded phony ratings? Anyway, apparently it's
customary to tip the shampoo boy five bucks, which I'm going to do, and the
hairstylist ten to twenty. Guess which amount he's getting? I didn't ask
Rob what the haircut cost because I don't care. This is Rob's idea so he's
paying for it. Still, it'll cost me fifteen bucks in tips. That plus the
cost of the haircuts is an expensive way of getting a haircut, which isn't
Robby's style... it's Willie's style. If Danny's still tied-up with his
teaching stuff, I'll bet the next time we get haircuts we'll be going to
downtown Framingham for eighteen dollar haircuts.

So, when it's my turn, the hairstylist is in his thirties and slightly
attractive with a designer shortish haircut himself... that's kinda
cool. Yeah, well, he takes way longer than necessary for my haircut using
small scissors instead of the more sensible clippers approach. When he's
done, my haircut doesn't look anything like a crewcut, which is what I said
I wanted. It looks like a long burr haircut with the back squared off. It's
been over a month since my last haircut and this clown left it almost long
enough to comb over... well, not really. He held a mirror all around my
head so I could see the reflection off the big mirror right in front of
me. Peter is his name, and he had many compliments about my hair as he was
taking way to long snipping it here and there. So the compliments at this
salon were really good but, as it turns out, that's the only part of the
experience that was good.

On the way out Robby even says, "Okay, babe, this place blows. Our haircuts
don't look nearly as good as a $75 haircut should." That's an
understatement of Biblical proportion. If not Danny, hopefully, my next
haircut will be from an old man in a downtown barbershop who will at least
be able to do a better crewcut that whatever Peter thought he was
doing. When Rob said the salon sucked, that was the time for me to
reinforce next time let's go back to Danny! I don't though because Danny
being the better barber isn't the point, and Robby and I both know
that. Robby needs to get over that and if we go for haircuts together, how
am I gonna get in bed with Danny? Rob's overdoing it, that's all... and
it's temporary. I just need to give him time to come to his senses about
this.

After the mistake at the salon Robby's, of course, now acting extra sweet
and attentive to me. He probably can't believe I'm not bitching about that
salon bullshit. Fuck it though! Ya see, I kinda think it was considerate of
Rob to do all that research trying to find a place I might find
acceptable. He stayed away from places with woman barbers and I appreciate
that. So, okay, that fucked-up Ricardo joint didn't work out, but that
doesn't take away from the fact Robby tried to find something
acceptable. And, obviously, I haven't gotten my last haircut from
Danny... just saying.

Anyway, I forget about all of that when we're back in our bedroom again
having the hottest sex imaginable. We got into it pretty quickly after we
got home too. We were in our bedroom changing our shirts because some hair
clippings were itching and I barely had my shirt off when BANG things took
off and we had hot and heavy sex. Robby needed to cover my mouth when I
climaxed because he knew from my moans at the build-up to orgasm I was
gonna squeal like crazy! Afterward, lying on our bed in a sweat, Robby
says, "We'll try another place next time." Neither of us needed
clarification... we both knew what he was referring to. He realizes it was
a mistake, his mistake, and he'll give in on the Danny situation most
likely sooner rather than later.

It was incredible sex with Robby though so... okay! After that, we putter
around the house for the rest of the afternoon. Then, even though it wasn't
my idea, and Danny never mentioned I needed to get my ass over to his
garage for a haircut, I still feel guilty getting my hair cut somewhere
else. It's been a year since that happened the last time, so I want to be
upfront about it with Danny. While Rob's showering I take a selfie of my
haircut and text it to Danny with the subject line: 'It wasn't my idea! I
love my regular barber!' Dammit though, I shouldn't have said 'love'! I
meant I love my regular barber's haircuts. The thing about texting is... it
is what it is. Talking on the phone I could have clarified that, but... oh,
forget it.

Not surprising, I don't get a text back from Danny. His feelings are
probably hurt. I flop on the bed holding my cell phone thinking another
thought... Omigod, for the near future, I can also say goodbye to my
haircut fetish! Yeah, well, that's both a good and bad thing. In the salon,
I never even gave my fetish a thought 'cause the fetish never bothered to
make so much as a cameo appearance... it was totally uninterested in what
was going on with the dull haircutting. Goddamn though, the secret tortures
some of us deal with and take for granted. I don't specifically mean my
haircut fetish. People have all kinds of secret torments they conceal while
they're dealing with them... AND all the normal things we all deal with
every day. There are approximately six million fetishes that people around
us are dealing with and we have no fucking idea they're doing it.

I'm still lying on the bed when Robby comes in the bedroom with a towel
over his shoulder, instead of around his waist. I go, "Damn, why do you
walk around like that?" He goes, "Like what, babe?" Ah, fuck it... I've
warned him about running into his mom in the hall while he's naked, and he
just makes a 'face' as if that couldn't possibly happen. He's looking in
the mirror over the bureau combing his wet hair. His hair looks almost the
same as it did before we went to the salon except the hairstylist/butcher
squared off the hair too high up in the back. Huh, I thought only SuperCut
women-barbers did that.

Turning around, Robby says with a big smile, "How do I look, babe?" He can
seem so naively innocent sometimes, the times he's not trying to live up to
my expectations of him as our leader. Times like this he's being naive
about what a good haircut looks like. I say, "You look great, Robby." He
says, "The guy did an okay job with my haircut at least, don't ya think?" I
nod and lie, "Uh huh, it looks good." He mutters, "Not that it's worth
seventy-five bucks, but..." I mumble, "I'm thinking I might try combing my
crewcut over on top..." He says, "What?" and I shake my head, muttering,
"Nothing, just kidding..."

Ya know, haha, it's not so much that Robby has me wrapped around his little
finger... it's more like I've wrapped myself around it for him. What the
hell, I enjoy being the submissive lover to him and it's obviously carried
over from sex to our everyday lives, and it probably confuses the masses
that I don't consider that a bad thing. Fuck, I just don't! I like being
this way even though I need to tolerate little 'blips' like the husband and
wife fiasco and Rinaldo's, or whatever the name of that fucked-up salon
was. That's alright though 'cause I can talk Robby into getting things
'right' whenever I feel it's important enough to do that.

Robby comes over to the bed and leans over me, an arm on either side of me,
and says, "You make me so fucking happy it's like I don't know what to do
with myself at times. I'm always pinching myself to be sure I'm not
dreaming, Dylan. You'll be the best partner, significant other, secret
wife, haha, or whatever else we're supposed to call ourselves, you're the
best at it! Better than any gay, or straight guy could ever hope to have,"
and he kisses my lips softly and then murmurs, "I love you more every day."
I kiss him quickly, and say, "Listen, Rob, you're the best, um, whatever
one of those designations appeals to you, YOU'RE the best ever, not me!"

He goes, "Thanks, but it's you," and he straightens up, then opens the
bureau drawer we keep underpants in, saying, "I'm trying my ass off, but
it's your cooperation that makes everything work, babe." I go, "Yes, I can
see why you'd say that," and he laughs.

I watch him get dressed and, oh man, his hot athletic body still thrills
me. Pulling on boxer shorts, he goes, "Take your shower now, Dylan." I go,
"In a couple of minutes," and he's like, "C'mon, babe, do it now. I wanna
pick up our suits before dinner." Heh heh, our in-charge leader! I just
wanted to see how emphatic he'd get. When he gets frustrated with me, he's
so cool...

We have plenty of time before dinner to pick up the matching suits we'll
wear for the wedding. Rob insisted on buying the suits for us at Men's
Warehouse and while the name 'warehouse' sounds like a discount place, it
isn't. Maybe it used to be but now the suits are designed by Joseph Abboud
who, according to Rob's research, is the only clothing designer to win the
CFDA award two years in a row... whatever CFDA stands for.

Men's Warehouse has other brand name suits but Robby wanted Joseph Abboud
suits. I couldn't tell the difference myself, but then I don't know shit
about suits. The $2000 or $3000 suit Willie bought for me years ago looks
fine, but so do the $300 suits I bought for the job last summer. They all
look okay. After the wedding, we'll wear these new suits to work, hopefully
not on the same day though.

When we get to the store the salesman tells us we need to try the suits on
for the tailor's approval. You're shitting me, how about our approval?
Robby says, "Go ahead, Dylan. Go with the tailor, I'm going to pick out
some ties for us." I follow the same very short, very old Italian guy who
fitted the suits on us when we bought them. We go into this little room
where the old guy watches me take my shorts off and then put the suit
on. Then he feels me here and there and, Jesus, the back of his hands have
more hair on them then some men have on their 'effing head. Pulling the
suit here and there, including my crotch, he finally says, "Yes, is good. I
do it right," and he said that defensively as if I said he hadn't done it
right. I didn't say a word to him. I'm standing here, not sure what to do
now and the old guy goes, "You done, boy" and he said that gruffly with his
broken Italian/English. I'm done?

After changing back to my shorts with the old guy watching me closely, I
gotta wonder if he thinks I'm going to try stealing my own suit? Then he
grabs the suit and takes it someplace. Well fuck, it's paid for so I think
I should be taking it someplace, right? I go out and tell Rob, "The old guy
took my suit." Rob's in line behind two customers waiting to pay for a
couple of ties that look very much like ties we already have in our
closet. He hands me the ties and his debit card, saying, "You know my PIN,
babe. Please pay for these ties while I try my suit on," and he goes off to
look for the tailor.

Hmm, there's a convenience store right next to the Men's Warehouse so this
is my chance to buy a pack of cigarettes. I put the ties on the counter and
slip out of the Men's Warehouse store and go in the convenience store. The
pack of Marlboros cost me $11.00! Holy shit, so I use Rob's debit card for
that. Eleven dollars is an obscene price, sixty to seventy percent of that
cost is various Massachusetts' taxes. Disgusting!

Yeah, I'm spoiled paying Salem New Hampshire prices for cigarettes, which
are less than half that. Anyway, I have my precious pack of cigarettes now
and, back in the Men's Warehouse store, the resister guy is just finishing
up with a customer. Good! I pick up the ties and pay for them with Rob's
card.

Christ, I'm giddy with this pack of cigarettes in my pocket, giddy and
guilty... but fuck guilty. Chubby and I know you wean yourself off nicotine
slowly, perhaps over a number of years. Damn, I should have bought some gum
too and some kind of spray that eliminates the smell of cigarette smoke on
my clothes. I can't go back to the convenience store now 'cause here comes
Rob. He's carrying both our suits on hangers. The suits are inside
individual Men's Warehouse garment bags... sweet! Robby's all smiles,
"These are kick-ass suits, huh, Dylan?" I go, "Oh man, yeah!" He carries
the suits and I bring the bag with the ties to the pickup. I can't fucking
wait to sneak a cigarette!

After dinner, we both try on our suits again because Mrs. Dickers wants to
see how we look. What the fuck, we put on the white dress shirts and ties
too and then Robby goes, "Shoes! We have shit shoes!" I look down and see
my brown shoes. Yeah, they are in need of some polish, not that brown shoes
go with my new super-dark blue suit. Rob has on black shoes that look fine
to me. I go, "I need black shoes. I have a pair of black loafers." Robby
goes, "Do loafers go with suits though? I think we both need black shoes."
So does Mrs. Dickers when we go downstairs. Mr. Dickers says, "No one will
notice your shoes, and I didn't know this was a suit-and-tie affair." Rob
goes, "It's not! Just Dylan and me," and then to me, "Yeah, we need black
shoes, Dylan."

We drive to the mall where Rob checks out six hundred pairs of men's black
shoes in four different stores. I'm mostly looking for some way I can get
away for a lousy five minutes to have a smoke. Plus I'll need mints for my
cigarette breath and some kind of spray for my clothes before I dare sneak
a smoke and, ah ha, there's a CVS store across the aisle. I tell Robby,
"Um, there's a CVS store. I better buy some breath mints, you know, for the
wedding when we're saying hello to everyone." Making a 'face' he goes,
"Breath mints?" I go, "I'll be right back!" He shrugs and then picks up
black shoe number six hundred and nine to examine closely. I buy a pack of
Juicy Fruit gum 'cause that'll be better than some weak-ass minty thing,
plus I buy a tiny one-ounce spray called 'Gone Smoke Personal Smoke 'n Odor
Eliminator' for $8.98. Jesus, at that price this shit must really work!

Back with Robby, he says, "How about these?" and he holds up one black shoe
that looks very similar to many other black shoes I've seen tonight. This
one is Ralph Lauren Men's Asher Captoe Oxford. I go, "Oh yeah! That's a
cool shoe, Robert!" He nods but then makes a 'face', mumbling, "Oh, fuck,
they're $185 a pair." I go, "Look at the quality of that fuckin' shoe," and
he nods, "You're right, let's hope they have our size." They do, not that
we have the same size foot. I'm a nine and Rob's a ten although we're
pretty much identical size-wise other than our feet. Well, that other thing
obviously, plus Rob weights ten or twelve pounds more than me although you
can't tell by looking at us. Um, well, you can tell but it's not a big
difference.

On the way to the car, Robby goes, "Can I have one of those mints?" I'm
like, "Mints? Um, how 'bout a stick of Juicy Fruit gum instead? They didn't
have good breath mints." Robby frowns, "They have like a hundred different
kinds of mints at the register." I shrug and open the pack of gum.

We have dinner and then watch the Red Sox game. That takes care of
Wednesday except Robby is super aroused by our wedding outfits, or by
something because in bed I get another awesome hard fucking from my secret
husband-to-be. And I'm not kidding, it's another no-lube extemporaneous
fuck with no foreplay. Just some rough jostling between us with some
initial quiet giggling and then when I'm up on the bed on all fours naked
as I can be, Robby's right behind me in the same condition, up on his knees
and I go, "Ahh!" as he humps his fat boner in past my sphincter and he
fucks me hard and fast. The pain was blinding for maybe fifteen seconds but
he's been fucking me so regularly my rectum quickly got its act together
and waves of pleasure were soon blooming and spreading all over me.

A few minutes later Rob's chest is on my back, his arms tightly around my
chest with his hips thrusting his fat boner up my ass, pre-cum is the only
thing keeping it from being a fat dry boner fuck. Robby starts making quiet
almost whining sounds of arousal that become desperate-sounds as he
increases the speed of his thrusting and I would have been going forward
onto my face except for his arms around me keeping me there. That boy is
super turned on tonight! Sensations of pleasure are soaring from my ass but
I'm also caught up in how dominant Rob's been with our sex lately... that
adds tremendously to my arousal and sexual pleasure.

Recently I've been cupping my hand in front of my boner to catch my cum,
thus saving us the trouble of constantly washing the bedding. And, oh man,
when I feel Robby's hard stream of creamy cum finally blasting against the
walls of my bowels my cum stream comes out immediately and I mean it comes
out so hard it's scary with me squealing like a stuck pig, the cum hits and
then splashes right off my hand. I'm shuddering, and with Rob still on my
back moaning after his ginormous climax, I need to put my cum-soaked hand
down on the bedspread to keep from falling forward. Then Rob's pulling his
cock out, muttering, "Oh no," 'cause he saw my cummy hand hit the bedspread
I guess, and then I feel his cum, lots of it, drooling out of my ass and
sliding around and down under me to pool behind my nuts this time, that's
how creamy it was. Nice load!

Robby pulls me over sideways, away from the cum spot but, yeah, the
bedspread is a goner. He says, "That was, um, I swear Dylan our sex is
getting better and better. That was so fucking hot! Did I hurt you? I'm
really sorry if I did but, holy shit, I couldn't stop and, um, the
Astroglide wasn't on top of the..." His arms are still around me and as we
lie here a shiver of pleasure zips around my dick. I mumble, "No problem,"
and he says, "I never would have believed it possible that our sex could
get better, babe." My shoulders do another little shudder on their own, as
I mumble, "Well, it has, Rob, it gets better all the time, but it's you
who's getting better." He squeezes his arms around me, asking, "Isn't this
the most perfect time? Us getting married and being more in love than
ever... and our sex is so 'effing special!"

Turning onto my back beside him, I nod my head, murmuring, "Yes, it's
perfect, but promise me you won't change, Robby. You're what's perfect
about the two of us." He snuggles his face against mine, murmuring, "You'll
get me crying, Dylan. Thank you so much for everything, and if I'm letting
you down in any way... you need to tell me right away, okay?"

We get comfortable, or I should say, I get comfortable as I mumble, "Yeah,
okay, sure I will, Robby." We lie quietly together as our hearts calm down
and then, fuck, the next thing I know I wake-up in our pitch-black bedroom
still lying on top of the bedspread with one of Rob's arms under me. How
the hell did we both fall asleep on top of the bedspread? It makes me think
maybe we're both experiencing pressure or nerves or something that we're
not aware of, and that's secretly exhausting us. We haven't been drinking
much, so it's not that. I shake Robby and he shivers as I say, "We need to
get under the covers," which we scramble around doing with Robby's
muttering, "My arm is dead asleep. I can't feel the fucker." Jesus, the
bedspread peels off my skin where the cum dried. That was weird.

Friday morning Rob's awake before me, and on his computer again. I roll
over in bed feeling the dried cum on my body. Hmm, I wonder if those stains
on the bedspread are as bad as I thought last night, and... oh yeah, there
they are... oh man! Wow, that was so odd though! I mean falling asleep like
that last night. Jeez, and right now I've got a partial boner so I go,
"Robby, what are you doing? Come back to bed." He looks over at me and
smiles, saying, "I'm checking out clothes we should pack for the cruise,
babe. There's all kinds of information about that online."

He looks so excited and, wow, that was a really nice smile he gave me. I
sit up in bed and then stop... oooh, my ass is sore. Dammit! Slowly sliding
off the bed I gingerly walk over to stand behind Rob, my right hand on his
shoulder. I do this a lot... haha. Rob doesn't mind. Leaning my head down,
I begin reading a list of items a person should bring on a Caribbean
cruise. I stop reading the list when Rob begins reading it out loud,
"Evening attire is usually only slightly dressier than daytime. Ladies opt
for sundresses or lightweight pants and summer tops." I mutter, "Oh fuck,
we'll need to go shopping again. I don't have any of that shit." Robby
says, "Dylan! Don't even joke about wearing women's clothes," and he turns
around in the chair to put his arms around my waist, asking, "Is anything
bothering you? You're not still thinking about the 'wife' thing, are you?"
I go, "No, why would I? We're good," and he says, "Just so I'm clear on
that thing, um, you said that between us you're going to joke around that
we're husband and wife, right? How's that work?" I go, "It's nothing,
Rob. I get a kick out of making shit up in my head about how awkward that
could be for me. You know, in weird funny circumstances or... oh, forget it
though, it's silly of me. We're good, that's what's important."

Rob goes, "No, babe, c' mon... share some of the funny shit with me, okay?
I like a good laugh, and you're funny." I go, "Sure," and, letting go of
me, he turns around and starts typing a list of casual clothes we need to
bring with us, saying, "It wasn't mentioned online, but I think I'll
include sports coats just in case." Of course, you would do that.

Our plan is to pack everything we're bringing with us and then, Saturday
morning take it to the hotel where we'll spend the night after the
wedding. I watch him type for a minute and then put my arm around his neck,
kiss his cheek and murmur, "I love you." He goes, "I know you do, Dylan. I
love you too." Well, he's not coming back to bed and, what the hell, my ass
is sore anyway.

Lying back on the bed, my hands behind my head, I'm thinking it's been
feeling different, our sex has. When Rob fucks me now, whether it's lovers'
sex or rough extemporaneous sex without Astroglide, or anything in between
it feels more special somehow. Yes, part of it is the new level of
confidence Rob had since the 'flicked switch' incident and that's made him
seem more dominant during sex... unless it's just in my head. Most of our
recent sex was instigated by Rob though, which for me is the best kind.

It can't be just my imagination though 'cause it's too obvious a change in
Robby both sexually and the way he's been acting more in-charge. He's
taking his leadership role seriously, in other words, and that's good
'cause I don't wanna do it, not any more often than I absolutely need
to. The sex and our relationship both feel different, and I mean different
as in better. My nature is to resist change I guess and Robby knows me
better than anyone on earth by now so he knows nothing would change if it
were up to me. And, hell, I think the changes, for the most part, are good
ones. They're more 'adult' anyway, and I can't stay a child forever. My
Peter Pan attempt was an abject failure... haha! Rob's been forcing the
issues with me about certain things and I admire him for it, I really do.

And it's not just me, Robby mentioned our sex is better than ever too, and
now I've got another thought, one I've had before and it's that our sex is
better because we're intrigued or fixated on being officially, legally
married. The secret husband and wife thing is present too. It's kinda cool
because husbands fuck their wives, right? Hee hee, as stupid and pointless
as it may be I get a kick out of fantasizing about being a gay version of
Rob's wife so maybe that's why the sex feels different. More 'right'
because we're doing it as a married couple. Oh, Christ, that's so lame!

And, obviously, we're not officially married yet anyway but basically, we
are and we both know it. And God forbid, I'm not saying there ever was a
time when Rob fucking me didn't feel right, just that it somehow feels more
'right' to me now. Or perhaps that's just more mind-games on my part but I
can't help wondering if our sex will even be better when we're actually
married officially. I like fantasizing about sex, even goofy fantasies that
don't make a lot of sense... except to me.

When Rob's done typing his list, we go downstairs where Mrs. Dickers is all
bubbly and excited, saying, "Tomorrow you boys will be a married
couple. I'm happy for you both. In my day it wasn't so, um, accepted but
this isn't 'in my day'... thank goodness." Mr. D. comes in the kitchen and
Mrs. D. goes, "Oh, Robert, try some of the delicious fresh summer fruit I
cut up earlier." He goes, "No thanks, I don't have time to eat anything,
Em. I gotta get back to the office. Just stopped in to pick up these
contracts."

Glancing at Rob and me, he mumbles, "Hi boys, um, you haven't forgotten
your starting-date at work, I hope. How long is that cruise of yours or
whatever the hell you're doing? We could use you right now." Rob goes,
"What? No, we haven't forgotten anything, dad. Hey, what are you guys
giving us as a wedding present? We could use some cash, that's if you
haven't already bought us..." and Mr. D. says, "We're going to let you
continue living here free of charge until that 'effing condo of yours is
finished. That's your wedding present." Mrs. D. goes, "Oh for heaven's
sake, Robert!" He snickers and gives his wife a kiss and says, "I gotta
run. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

As I'm getting a Coke from the refrigerator I hear Mrs. D. reminding Rob he
needs to drive her, um, I don't hear where. Not that it matters because oh,
Christ, maybe I'm finally gonna get a chance to sneak a smoke. Rob says to
me, "Hey, babe, I need to give mom a ride to the eye doctors. She getting
drops in her eyes so she can't drive back." I go, "Really, eye drops..."
Robby says, "Do you wanna come with me? Keep me company while I wait." I
go, "What? Um, to your mom's eye doctor?" and he's like, "No, on second
thought there's no sense in you wasting an hour with us. And anyway, while
I'm doing this little, um, pain-in-the-ass chore, you can get out all the
clothes on that list I made, both our clothes. You know, pile everything
neatly on the bed and when I get back we'll go through everything to pick
out the best stuff to take with us, okay?" I nod, "Yep, no problem."

He looks at me and I go, "What?" He asks, "Do you know where my list is?" I
shrug, mumbling, "Ah, haha, no, where is it?" He snorts out a laugh shaking
his head and then says, "I left it in the family room on the coffee
table. Thanks, babe."

Oh man, this is a perfect example of me making something up about Rob and I
being husband and wife... hee hee. It's so dumb but I can just envision a
year or two from now Robby asking me, his wife, 'Will you pick up my suits
at the cleaners today, dear?' and I'll be like, "You bet, hon," and he'll
be looking at me until I go, "What is it, honey?' and he'll ask, 'Well, do
you have the receipt for the cleaners?' I'll go, "Oh, haha, no, I don't
hon, um, where is it?' and he'll say, 'How the hell did you expect to pick
my suits up at the cleaners if you didn't have the receipt?' and I'll break
down crying, saying, "I'm sorry, Rob, but the toilet is stopped up and
Robby Junior won't stop peeing and shitting on my personal belongings! He
hates me!' Haha. No, I'm not sharing that with Robby.

Robby goes, "What are you grinning about?" I go, "Huh? Oh, nothing, hon."
He snickers and as soon as Rob drives away with his mom I chuckle to myself
as I'm getting my cigarettes from the bottom of my toiletry kit. All the
yucks stop as I go out to the backyard to lie on a chaise lounge and slowly
smoke a cigarette. Aww, it's awesome! Sure, I get dizzy at first, but by
the time I'm finishing the second cigarette, I'm back!

I go inside and get a cup of stale lukewarm coffee from Mrs. D.'s French
coffee press thing. A cup of coffee with my third cigarette should hit the
spot, right? As I'm drinking the coffee and smoking, I text Danny again:
'Are you still mad at me Danny?' He texts back: 'I guess not. That
horrendous haircut is punishment enough for you. See you tonight!' Aw,
that's so nice of him not to hold a grudge. Yeah, tonight is the so-called
bachelor party. Something that I really could do without, but...

Jesus, seriously, I can't fucking wait until everything is over and Rob and
I are on that 'effing cruise ship.

Three cigarettes are plenty for now so I chew Juicy Fruit gum and spray my
clothes a little with that expensive odor killer and then smell my
shirt. Hmm, after smoking three cigarettes I'm not gonna smell a faint
tobacco smell on my fucking shirt. That's no test! To be safe, I purposely
spill some coffee on my shirt and then go inside and put on another
shirt. The coffee spill is in case Rob asks why I changed shirts. Jeez, so
much to think about when being deceitful.

Yeah, and I'm supposed to be doing something... hmm? Jesus, I'm still a
little dizzy, I guess. Looking at my watch I see I still have fifteen
minutes before Rob said they'd be back. Then, oh yeah, the clothes for our
cruise! I better get started on that but first, I spend five minutes
studying my haircut. Is it as bad as Danny inferred? Yeah, I think it is
and yet not a single person, except Rob, has said word-one about it. Well,
nobody comments on a guy's hair unless they know the person very well, and
there's a major difference to comment on... like a guy gets a Mohawk. Huh,
and then I start getting our clothes out for the cruise.

When Rob walks into the bedroom I have maybe a fourth of the clothes from
the list on the bed, and he's like, "What have you been doing?" I go, "I
spilled coffee on my shirt," as if that explains why I don't have the
clothes out. Rob goes, "Dylan, I make a simple request..." and he gets a
phone call. So that's good, that worked out. We get everything packed and
ready to go. Then we put our new suits, old shirts, new ties, and new shoes
with old socks on the twin beds in the spare bedroom so everything is ready
to put on tomorrow morning for our twelve o'clock, um,
ten-to-fifteen-minute wedding. Dodger's partner, Josh, is a photography
nut, so he's taking some pictures. Everything will be over in less than
twenty hours from now.

At the dinner table, I'm not too hungry because I'm worried tonight will
seem odd. No, I mean, it's nice of Danny and Hayden wanting to take Rob and
me out for drinks and all that, but all of a sudden everything is starting
to seem weird to me. It's like I hate the thought of standing up there
going through with the ceremony... I wish to hell Robby would have let us
do the Justice of The Peace thing instead of a church wedding. Ah, fuck
though, he's right that our parents, our moms actually, want something more
than the Justice of The Peace. And we're so Goddamn lucky to have our
parents' approval and support, the least we can do is have a short wedding
in a church. That was Rob's argument and what could I say to counter that?
It all feels funny to me though, and I think it'll be awkward tonight too,
so... I just want to GET THIS OVER WITH! That's my frame of mind.

I need to get a grip 'cause we're almost at the finish line. "What's wrong,
Dylan?" I'm like, "Huh, whaddya mean," He goes, "You just, um, it sounded
like you growled." Mr. D. says, "He cleared his throat." I nod, "Uh huh,
and um, I'm kinda nervous I guess." Mrs. D. pats the back of my hand,
saying, "It'll be okay, dear," and I go, "Oh, no, it's not that, um..." and
Robby says, "We better get going, Dylan. We'll clean up a little and hit
the road, have a few beers with the guys, I'll talk you off the ledge about
tomorrow's festivities, and then we'll get a good night's sleep." As we're
going upstairs, I go, "I'm not on a ledge." He goes, "I am, haha, I'm a
little nervous. Maybe we should have done the Justice of the Peace thing."
I go, "Now you realize that when it's too 'effing late." He goes, "It'll be
fine, Dylan."

We meet Danny inside Mike's Tavern, which is the bar near the high school
where we usually have beers after playing 'pick-up' games at the basketball
courts. Danny's sitting at the bar but he stands when he sees us so we can
all hug quickly. Robby asks, "Where's Hayden?" Danny mumbles, "He's taking
a piss. I can't believe you two numb-nuts are going through with this
wedding so soon after graduating." Rob goes, "Yeah, well..." There are
about fifteen people talking and drinking in here, none of whom I
know... older local men.

I purposely wore a baseball cap, my own this time, and I'm wearing it to
lessen the trauma for Danny when seeing my inferior haircut live and in
person. The 'selfie' I sent him doesn't do the haircut justice, um, justice
as to how bad compared to Danny's haircuts it is. Danny turns to me and
with the quickest movement of his hand imaginable, so fast it's amazing, my
hat is now in his hand. He shakes his head and Robby snorts out a laugh,
mumbling, "Don't blame Dylan. It was my bad idea."

Shaking his head, Danny hands me my hat and says to Rob and me, "You two
nuts come with me," and Hayden jogs up taking my hand, saying, "I washed my
hands, don't worry, Dylan."  I pull my hand away, mumbling, "Hayden!
Jesus!" and Robby pats my shoulder to get me walking. I'm like, "Yo, Rob,
what's up with these guys? This isn't going to be...?" He shrugs, frowning,
as he mutters, "I've got a bad feeling..." as we follow Danny and Hayden
toward the back room we hear a raucous yell. Rob goes, "Jesus Christ! Don't
tell me that yelling is guys from our high school." I give him a 'look' and
he goes, "Seriously, babe, I swear to you on my honor I know nothing about
this. I have nothing to do with anything. Goddamn that Danny!" He calls,
"Danny, we don't need this shit... not tonight of all nights."

Danny ignores that. He and Hayden have these big shit-eating grins as they
sort of guide/push us into the backroom with Danny saying "Too late now,
buddy..." and, I don't know, twenty-five to thirty guys are drinking in the
backroom and then there's mock cheering when Robby and I walk in. I'll take
a wild guess here and assume they've been drinking for a while too. A long
banner is hanging across the middle of the room that reads in big letters
'BEERS AND QUEERS'. Very sensitive of someone.

My eyes focus on the bulk of the loud-mouths, some of whom I remember from
the high school baseball team years ago, but only because I was going to
the games to ogle Robby who was the star pitcher/shortstop during our four
years of high school. It had to be Danny who rounded the ex-ballplayers up
because Hayden didn't even go to Framingham High; he was in some
fancy-pants prep school. I see other guys I know too, but right now we're
surrounded by the ex-ballplayers.

Almost everyone has a pin on with the gay pride colors and there are gag
gifts on a table, one of which claims 'Penis Enlargement Instructions', and
other tasteful gifts along those lines. This is all totally
unexpected... completely unexpected, and the last thing I wanted
tonight. Robby and I are shaking our heads slowly as he mutters, "Holy
fuck, how...?"  Meanwhile, Hayden's trying to put a hoodie sweatshirt on me
that reads 'BRIDESMEN' on the front. Under 'Bridesmen' is a long arrow
pointing to the right. His next-door neighbor, Terrence, is sort of helping
Hayden get the hoodie on me but I need to help them or it won't
happen... so I help. It's wonderful and well-meaning of Hayden and Danny
and all these guys, but... oh fuck, no!

Meanwhile, Danny and three loud-mouth guys are roughly putting a matching
hoodie on Rob. Matching except the arrow under 'BRIDESMEN' on his is
pointing in the other direction. Rob's standing next to me so our
sweatshirt's arrows, naturally, are pointing at each other.

Most of the loud-mouths have crude things to say about Rob's and my wedding
night... every reference to anal fucking you've heard since you were ten
years old, but nothing is said in a mean-spirited way... I'll give them
that. These guys are, or were, friends of Robby's although few of them know
me. Hell, most of them didn't even know I existed in high school. Jocks
travel in different circles than shy non-jock boys like myself. Most likely
very few if any of these guys knew Robby was gay in high school so I'm
guessing some of them are probably here out of curiosity, but most are here
because Robby was well known in high school and popular.

The brain takes a minute to acclimate to something as totally off-the-wall
as this, so it's a minute before I acknowledge the other guys here besides
the baseball players, some of whom, unfortunately, haven't aged well and
appear to be thirty years old, half of them wearing the short beard that is
mandatory if you want to be 'in' with the latest style. And apparently, it
doesn't matter if the beard looks like shit on you or not. And most of
these guys just graduated from some college and are therefore well aware of
how to get drunk, and they're doing a helluva job of it too.

There are others though, others besides the baseball players and this turns
into a night of seemingly endless hugs and introductions and me being
reminded of guys' names, some of whom I've actually never met
before. First, there are the jocks around Robby who, for the most part, are
apparently good guys or at least they are tonight. Jocks, however, are
known to be bullies. Not all of them, but some of them probably pulled my
underpants up too tightly a time or two in ninth or tenth grade, or
whenever.

Aside from the jocks though I'm talking with Chubby who's with a few of his
buds I've met before, and one or two I haven't. There's Alex Presley,
Dallas Brown, Chris Johnson, and another guy whose name I forget now, plus
the two I don't think I've ever met although over the next couple of hours
they both claim I have met them. The night becomes a blur as Rob and I are
separated and while I'm with Chubby and then other guys, Rob's spending
time with the likes of Joe Berks and his brother what's-his-name, and then
there's Chad Bundy, one of Rob's old boyfriends who's with his roommate and
probably his fuck buddy, Pat O'Brien. Dodger and Josh, of course, and a
crew of posse boys, Sonny being the loudest. He's with his best bud, Thomas
Bright and, unfortunately, Squirrel's too young to be in a bar but Sonny's
heard the 'story' of Squirrel fucking me and we have a good laugh about
that. He tells me it's why Ray wouldn't come tonight... Ray's bullshit that
Squirrel's telling everyone that I said he's bigger, cock-wise, and a
better... well, you get the point. I don't say it, but I was
thinking... thank God for Squirrel if it kept Ray away.

I get hugs from Bean, Devon Mc Carty, Jameson Doyle, Manny Ruez, and three
other posse boys I've only met once or twice before. We talk about our
summer of the posse boys a couple of years ago and then I get hugs and
kisses from Elliot Ellis/Reeves, Ray's brother, and one-time good friend of
mine who's with his longtime boyfriend, whose name is another one I
forget. Seeing my old friend Seth from the lawn cutting crew and his
roommate Jackie-something is a super surprise. I love Seth and I'm thrilled
to find out he's doing awesome. He tells me he graduated from college
online and then I talk and laugh with Dodger, who again appears to be
'high' on some controlled substance, probably pot. Josh Price isn't in much
better shape and he insists we do a shot together and there are other guys
I haven't seen in years, some of whom I've had sex with, although none of
us mentions that.

It's an overwhelming night of meeting and greeting and getting reacquainted
with guys, all of whom want attention and deserve it but, when we first get
there all these guys were further along the road to being drunk and/or high
than me, plus guys are talking at the same time and it's really a
flattering cluster fuck. We learn that Danny, Hayden, and Chubby contacted
a couple of guys and once things got rolling in our hometown it was
probably similar to news of a party on a college campus in that word of
mouth spreads quickly and more people show up than expected, some of these
guys, as I said, are here out of curiosity to see two queers who are
actually marrying each other. And there's lots of bar food and I gotta
wonder... who the fuck is paying for all this?

As I said, a lot of these guys are recent college grads so, as I feared,
'shots' of liquor begin appearing regularly, trays of shots and there's no
way to get out of drinking toasts since the toasts are for us. Rob and I
get smashed and then later, around midnight I think, I start getting kisses
on the mouth from a lot of guys as they're saying congratulations and good
luck on their way out the door. There are a lot of crude congratulations as
well, but again, not in a mean way and then there are some congratulations
where the words are so slurred I can't understand them. The kissing becomes
contagious and I'm guessing a few straight guys who perhaps wondered what
it's like kissing another guy finally got drunk enough to take advantage of
their chance tonight. Lots of raucous laughing along with the hugs and
kisses, some coming back for seconds. It was all in fun for most guys, and
I like kissing straight boys... so it's fun for me too.

Then it's Saturday morning and when I wake up I know my name, so that's a
good start. I'm Dylan Newman and I have been for almost twenty-three
years. Later today I'll be Dylan Newman-Dickers and I'll need to get my
driver's license changed.

I don't know for sure... but I might still be a little bit drunk 'cause I'm
thinking about being married and how it'll be fun being submissive to my
secret husband although he doesn't know that, not that he needs to. Like
most people, Robby isn't messed-up or confused about anything as
incomprehensible as submissive/dominant sex. That's right, he's like most
guys who don't need to deal with that complication. That sub/dom thing is
actually the single most mysterious thing about me, um, to myself I mean. I
don't have any idea, not a clue why I get 'off' being submissive in certain
circumstances. I'd include my haircut fetish as a co-mystery except I think
its part of the submissive one.

Yeah, this oddity is as mysterious to me as I'm sure it is to everyone else
who has a submissive nature or a fetish of any kind. There are unlimited
fetishes that I gratefully don't need to deal with, although others do. You
name anything and someone has a fetish about it and I'm sorry for them
unless like me they've wisely given up trying to understand the reason for
it and, instead, are trying to enjoy the shit out of as much of it as they
can because it apparently ain't gonna turn itself off.

Holy shit, I must be a little drunk if this is what I'm thinking about on
the day I'm getting married. And, yeah, I gave myself a talking to coming
back from Provincetown about how my submissiveness is sneered at by macho
males and those people in general who think their view of the proper way to
'act', or feel, or react, is the only ones that matter. The thing is, I'm
trying hard not to give a flying fuck what those people think... that's a
new attitude of mine and only a recent development so it needs more work.

So that's my weird frame of mind the morning of my wedding as I lie in bed
still a tad drunk next to my secret husband to be, who is currently deep
into the mysterious world of non-REM sleep, otherwise known as deep
sleep. We humans under the age of thirty usually have about two hours of
deep sleep per night during which our brains process information from the
previous day's experiences, or so I've read. Hopefully, my brain did its
job during my two hours of my deep sleep because I'm now trying to remember
all the guys I saw last night, and how it went with each of them.

During that effort, I fall back to sleep and when I wake up again I'm
astonishingly aware of a killer hangover, so I guess I'm not drunk
now. Fuck! Well, maybe most guys getting married are hungover on their
wedding day because of well-meaning friends getting the groom hammered the
night before? I wouldn't know if that is true or not because of a lack of
experience. You see we're younger than most guys who get married so we
haven't been to bachelor parties or weddings yet for guys we grew up
with. Everything's new to us in that regard.

How did we get home? Hmm, oh yeah, now I recall Chubby pulling me aside
around one o'clock and telling me Robby threw up and he's in the back seat
of the pickup sleeping. I remember Chubby walking me to the pickup and
driving us home with one of his friends following in the Kia. I don't
remember coming into our bedroom but we ended up here somehow, so it's all
good. Actually, I don't remember much about the hour or so before Chubby
did the rescue. It's those fucking shots of booze! Oh man, my head is
aching so much I'm not going to try remembering anything else right now. We
don't even attempt getting out of bed until ten-thirty. Sitting up, Robby
gives me a little smile, murmuring, "It looks like we survived the night,
huh, Dylan?" I smile back, muttering, "Yeah, we're just barely tough
enough, I guess." There's not much talking after that. We shower together
and while bathing we stop to hang onto each other until we get the strength
to continue bathing. Done with that we do other stuff we need to do in the
bathroom, like shave and piss and brush our teeth... not necessarily in
that order.

Getting dressed in our new suits and ties and shoes, we go downstairs where
we see Rob's mom all dressed up and happy as a fat kid with a whole
Snickers bar. Mr. D. is dressed in a sports coat reading the paper in the
family room. He looks up and says, "Good morning you two. Are you boys
ready for this?" Rob goes, "G'morning, dad, and no, or, I mean yes of
course we are."

We have orange juice with some Advil and then coffee, but nothing to
eat. Bubbly Mrs. Dickers is flying around telling us things about her
parents who are meeting them at the church along with Mrs. Dickers' sister
and brother-in-law. Other stuff too like the neighbors from next door plus
the ladies from her club, they'll be at the church and she's saying many
other words that Rob and I nod and smile at, mumbling, "Oh?" and "Uh huh,
that's nice."

Last night Rob was inviting everyone he talked with to the wedding so I
don't know what to expect... I don't care either. If I had to guess, I
assume some of the guys from last night will show up at the reception for
free booze and food. That makes me wonder again who paid for everything
last night, although I don't wonder about it for very long.

At eleven-thirty we ride over to the church with Rob's parents. We've
arranged for car service to get us to the hotel after the reception and to
the dock for the cruise ship tomorrow morning, and wherever else we need to
get to. Mrs. D. tells us that Dodger took our luggage to the hotel this
morning. Well, thank God for that 'cause we weren't in any shape to do it,
although Rob and I originally planned to do that ourselves.

Then, at the church, the wedding goes as Pastor Hope said it would. There
are forty-some people in the small church, some of whom I don't know. I
grin at Dodger and Josh, then Chubby and that girl, Judy, who he took to
the Vegas wedding, she waves and smiles at me. I do a head nod to other
guys I know who are sitting in the back pews grinning at this odd
circumstance making me snort out a laugh which gets my head going BOOM,
BOOM, BOOM!

Then, in the front pew across from the one Rob and I are squirming on are
my mom and step-dad, plus Tris and Chub's step-dad, Tim, plus Mr. and
Mrs. Dickers. And mugging at me as they're walking into the church are a
few posse boys, Sonny and his boyfriend, and others I recognize, all of
whom I manage to smile and nod at as in my head I'm wondering... why are
these benches called 'pews', um, but never mind that now I guess...

The Pastor says a prayer and then the words he told Rob and me he'd say
about the sanctity of marriage and so forth. Next, he says, "Robert and
Dylan, please come forward," and he motioned with his hand where we're to
stand. Ten minutes later Rob and I are married with brand new gold bands on
the ring finger of our left hands.

There is, um, I guess you'd call it a reception-line outside the church. An
informal one that requires hugging and kissing and mumbled words, but never
a discouraging one... which is nice. The reception, as I expected, is
attended by maybe half the guys from last night's party so while there were
forty-some at the church there's more like sixty-some at the reception. Rob
and I get around to each one as we go from table to table greeting and
thanking everyone for coming. I do believe we're doing a good impression of
guys who are not hungover like motherfuckers, although we are hungover like
motherfuckers. Still, we both 'act' like two people who just got married,
or how we assume two guys who just got married should 'act'. Hell, later I
realize that I actually enjoyed the reception, enjoyed all the hugs and
kisses and I appreciated all the nice words of congratulation. It makes me
wonder though... how would this wedding have gone down twenty or thirty
years ago? Not as well, I'm guessing.

Finally, Chubby comes to the rescue again. This time it's around two-thirty
in the afternoon when Robby and I have both spoken personally to everyone
here, many of them more than once. Chubby gets us together and tells us we
need to sneak out of here now. He's got our stuff together, meaning the
envelopes with monetary wedding presents I assume, and with Robby and me
bumping into things we follow Chub out to our waiting car service.

We all hug quickly as Rob and I are thanking Chubby. Then Robby hands Chub
a signed blank check, saying, "Please see a woman named, Doris, and pay for
the balance of the reception bill." Chub goes, "Nah, no need for that,
Rob. It's being taken care of... Dodger's paying for it. You guys have a
seriously good time on that big-ass boat!" Robby looks at me, and then back
at Chub, and mutters, "Tell Dodger thanks, Jeff. We'll say thanks properly,
um," Chubby laughs and goes, "Yeah, right. You guys need to get in this
fucking car and get outta here before you fall down." Rob and I are not in
good shape after last night.

Chubby opens the back door of a big Chrysler that's not a limo and I'd
guess it's about four years old. It's clean though and the driver speaks
English, so that's pretty good. Robby gets in the backseat without even
attempting to argue about anything because he's too fucked up right now. I
hug and kiss Chubby again, and then get in the car beside Robby.

Leaning in the open backdoor, Chubby says to Rob, "If you ever lay a hand
on him you'll be swimming with the fishes!" Rob looks startled for a
second. We're a little slow on the uptake at the moment, then we 'get it'
and the three of us laugh as the driver clears his throat, like... 'Let's
fuckin' go!' Chubby's pointing at Robby, grinning and saying, "Capiche?"
Robby manages to grin and say, "Fuck the fishes!" The three of us are
grinning as Chub shuts the door, hits his hand on the roof twice, and I
watch Chubby wave at me as the car service guy drives us away.

Rob and I look at each other and then both snort out a chuckle. My eyes
close as I'm smiling at Chub's little joke but at the same time I know, in
a way, it was Chubby's way of telling me in our secret 'code', our means of
silent communication, that he's okay with this.

Obviously, Rob and I have taken Advil and we've been drinking water, not
booze, for the last couple of hours so our headaches are under control but
a hangover is much more than a headache... we're basically feeling
beat-up. Still, we grin and talk quietly about the wedding and reception
and how nice it was that so-and-so showed up and how about this or
that. Gratefully the driver isn't into a conversation of any kind and there
are no traffic problems so we arrive at the hotel without a problem.

In a stupor, Rob checks us into the hotel. Then, when we're in our room I
give the bellhop ten bucks for unnecessarily bringing our two pieces of
luggage to the room... we were carrying our backpacks and could easily have
pulled one bag each ourselves... they're on wheels for Christ sakes. The
bellhop sort of insisted though and we were in no condition to argue with
him about anything.

The bellhop leaves and, without talking, Rob and I drop our backpacks next
to our bags. He stands next to me as I pull down the bedspread and then we
flop on the bed and fall asleep in our suits. Neither of us ate anything at
the reception so around seven o'clock we get up and shower. Then, after
putting on casual clothes we go to the restaurant in the hotel and have a
less than delicious dinner. During that poor excuse for a ninety-dollar
dinner, Robby and I do a lot of smiling at one another, and then back in
our room, we made slow love for a long time, still without saying much.

We have our first lovers' sex as married guys while wearing most of the
casual clothes we put on after showering because we were too anxious to do
it, too anxious to undress first. After our gooey and satisfying climaxes,
our pants down around our ankles, we cling to one another until the
pleasure vibrations fadeout... and then we undress completely.  After naked
hugs and kisses, we get under the covers and I put my arms around Robby and
snuggle with him, feeling my eyes get wet. He murmurs, "I'll try hard to
never let you down, Dylan, and my love for you is singing to me
tonight. It's swarming around my brain." I snicker and mutter, "Same here,
but go on, please continue..." and he fills my head with compliments as I
grin against his shoulder. His scent has never smelled sexier and I feel
safe and taken care of as Robby rubs his hands over me lightly and we kiss
for a while before making love again for an even longer time than earlier.

I let Robby lead in everything and my skin feels like it's shimmering all
over me and I can't stop quietly moaning with pleasure as Robby does
everything perfectly and, I don't know, I feel like we're married now... as
crazy as that sounds. I mean, how do you feel like you're married? You just
do...

Our climaxes happen at the same time during our second lovemaking and
instead of a squeal I let out a long whimpering sound and Robby hugs me and
says, "I love you, Dylan" I cling to him until he quietly says, "We need to
get to sleep now, babe," and with me feeling docile and contented I lie
against Robby, who's asleep in two minutes without making a sound. His
steady breathing tells me he's alive, haha. I'm used to the way he sleeps,
so...

The very thought of sleeping now is almost as thrilling to me as our sex
was. Seriously! Before I doze off though I realize I'm feeling true
happiness. I try to tell myself I'm rationalizing or fooling myself again
as I did with the 'wife' thing. Maybe it's that I'm simply enthralled with
the 'idea' of being married, that this feeling is temporary but, no, I
can't convince myself of that. From the light we left on in the bathroom,
the light coming from the two-inch-opening of the door, I can make out
Robby sleeping so handsomely, and a tear rolls down my cheek because I'm
not fooling myself... I sincerely feel true happiness, Omigod, this is what
it feels like! Then, Sunday morning I'm feeling a hundred times better than
I felt yesterday morning, but there's no time for sex 'cause we need to
hurry to make our cruise.

Amazingly our car service guy is waiting in the lobby and he gets us to the
dock in plenty of time to face what we expect will be a hassle. We're aware
of the many rules and regulations for air travel so we're expecting
something similar, and it is similar, but not as bad... not great, but not
as bad as flying.

First of all the port is a madhouse of activity with some passengers
departing from another cruise ship as 4000 passengers are getting on
ours. Signs are posted telling us where to go and we drag our bags
following the instructions on the signs. Good signage! Plus, lots of
helpful ship employees in uniforms, like you see on TV shows, one who takes
our luggage but advises us to keep our backpacks. He probably told us why
but I didn't hear it. Rob and I are in the mode of doing whatever we're
told because we don't know shit about taking a cruise.

Next, we deal with security and we're not even on the fucking ship yet! We
show our boarding passes and ID and they X-ray our backpacks and then we go
into a huge room with lots of passengers in lots of lines, but they're
moving quickly. This is the 'check-in' where they basically verify the
cabin we're in and give us electronic keys and printed directions for how
to find the cabin. Next, we go up four flights of stairs and then we're at
the boarding place, the one that's actually part of the ship, finally... I
think. This fucking ship is enormous! When we finally make it past that
checkpoint we are definitely on the ship and we follow signs directing us
to the center of the ship which takes, believe it or not, ten 'effing
minutes or so, and then we go up more steps to get to our deck and then,
with the help of an officious woman in uniform, we find our cabin... and
the key works!

We look inside the cabin that's not spacious but there is a ten-foot-wide
deck running outside the cabins on this side of the ship with deck chairs
outside our door. One of us who is known to get claustrophobia can come
outside and sit on one of these deck chairs to look at the endless ocean
and contemplate what he would do if the ship sinks.

No, everything is actually very cool! When the key works and our cabin door
opens, Robby and I grin at each other while looking in at our
accommodations and then hug like goofs before seeing three girls using
their door key a couple of doors down from ours. They appear to be two or
three years older than us and one of them, the one with buck teeth, says,
"First time on a cruise ship, huh, boys?" Without commenting on that, we
stop hugging and go inside our cabin to unpack. Why couldn't they be three
guys, ya know?

The first day is for exploring and trying to figure out what we're supposed
to do. The second day we're settling in and then the third day we're one
night away from the Bahamas and we've got our sea legs, as they say, and
I'm feeling cocky and pretty fucking good as I walk up to Robby who's all
the way around the other side of the ship in a sort of chaise lounge deck
chair, one of about a hundred in a row. He smiles and holds out his hand. I
hold it, standing next to him, as he asks, "Where ya been, babe?" I'm like,
"Oh, I had to go doo-doo. Hey, do you think I could share that
deckchair/chaise lounge thing with you? Get under that blanket and
all... it's breezy out here." Rob's like, "No, Dylan, use that one next to
me, I saved it for you, this is too small..." I lift the end of the blanket
and start squeezing in next to Robby as he goes, "Oh! No, babe, these
aren't made for two, um... ow, Dylan, your elbow just got me in the ribs."

I insinuate myself on the full-length deckchair thingie, muttering, "Can
you scoot over a little?" He's like, "I'm half up on the arm now." We get
settled and Robby gets his arm behind my neck pulling my head over. He
kisses my forehead and then he's like, "Dylan! What the fuck? Is that
cigarette smoke I smell on you?" I'm like, "What? Oh, it's those three
skanky girls in the cabin down from us. They were all smoking outside and I
had to walk right past them. They always have something smartass to say to
me too. Um, my shirt must have caught some of that disgusting cigarette
smoke." He's like, "How'd it get on your breath?" I go, "Huh? Oh, I had to
breath, didn't I? Jeez..."

He makes a face and then mutters, "After our honeymoon, you've gotta stop
smoking! I don't want to catch you smoking... I'm serious, Dylan." I'm
like, "Look at that view! You can see where the earth curves... see, way
the fuck out there." Robby says, "Yeah, this cruise is awesome but, babe,
people are looking at us scrunched in this deckchair for one." I look at
the row of, as I said, maybe a hundred chairs, most with people on
them. Running my fingers through Rob's hair, I go, "Yeah, I see them, but
we don't know them, do we? So fuck 'em." He snickers, "That's your new
attitude, huh?" I say, "Yeah, it really is."

Still messing with his hair, I mumble, "Um, our haircuts suck, Robby. And,
as you know I haven't complained or, God forbid, made any kind of issue out
of it because that's not how I roll, to dip back a dozen years for that
obnoxious saying, but I've been thinking." He goes, "Uh huh," and I go, "If
I give you my word there will be no hanky-panky going on, do you think it'd
be alright if I get a haircut from Danny next time?" He goes, "Not if
you're thinking you'll go there alone, no! But if we go together, and
obviously I wouldn't think of leaving you two alone for more than sixty
seconds, I guess we can do that if it'll make you happy. That fucking salon
was too expensive." I pull his hair, muttering, "Okay, that's almost
partially fair."

Rob struggles to get a little more of the seat for himself as a young man,
a kid really. I'm guessing he's nineteen, says, "Looking comfy, Dylan. I
hope that's your husband... haha. Have fun," and he keeps walking. I say
nothing as Robby stares at me for a few seconds until I go, "What?" He's
like, "Who was that?" I go, "You mean Eric? He's the Junior assistant
Purser on board." Robby goes, "Obviously he's on board. How does he know
you?" I go, "Huh? You mean, oh yeah, he helped me get money from my debit
card. That's his job. Help the passengers with money situations and so
forth. He just got promoted to assistant purser for this cruise."

Actually, what Eric told me was where I could get a pack of Marlboro. They
discourage smoking in most areas on board so they don't sell
cigarettes. Normally they don't, but Eric did me a favor and...." Robby
mumbles, "I didn't think you had any money left in your debit account." I
go, "My mom put a couple hundred dollars in my account. She can transfer it
online at the bank because we both have Bank of America accounts." He goes,
"Jesus, babe, come to me if you need money. Not your mom or your brother."
I nod, "Yeah, but you've spent so much on everything already." He says,
"I've got money. Which means we've got money, you and me... I told you
about the Apple stock."

We're silently watching the scary/fascinating ocean slide by for a while,
and then Robby says, "Hey, why'd that purser kid say that thing about your
husband?" I shrug, "He asked me who's the handsome guy I'm with was, and to
screw around I told him you were my husband." Robby goes, "Nice." I'm like,
"You better dance with me tonight," and he says, "You're too good of a
dancer, baby. I told you that already, Jesus!" and then he adds, mumbling,"
You make me look like a spastic." I say, "Slow dancing, I mean." He goes,
"Oh, yeah, sure, sweetheart" and he chuckles at that, Then I go, "You
promised, dear, so no backing out..." More snickering from us about the
corny terms of endearment, and then Rob says, "Seriously though, Dylan. We
can't slow dance together... Christ, we'll attract attention." I go, "So
what?" Rob mumbles, "Damn, you've got the new attitude working, Dylan,
but... jeez."

A waitress, or whatever you call them on a cruise ship, comes by with a
tray of hot chocolates and we both take a mug. After burning his tongue on
the too hot drink, Robby goes, "Um, I hesitate to ask, but last night, ah,
who was that young guy you were talking with after dinner, um, for like
twenty minutes?" I go, "Oh, you mean the cute young guy with all the
freckles?" Rob goes, NO! Who's that? I meant the young guy with the short
blond hair." I nod, "Oh yeah, you mean Henric. He's our cabin steward. He's
friendly, honest, and polite. That's what I think he told me although I'm
not sure because he speaks broken English... heavy German accent. I think
it's German." Robby goes, "How come I've never seen him if he's our cabin
steward?" I shrug, "I don't know, Rob." He goes, "Why was he touching your
face?" I'm like, "Oh, yeah. That was later. Something blew in my eye. He
had a tissue trying to wipe it out." Omigod, Henric is so hot! He is
totally gay too, and he has this sexy scent about him. He's definitely
gay. No doubt about that... so young though! Well, he's gotta be eighteen I
would think.

Cruises are known for their food and I gotta say they deserve that
excellent reputation. We have a truly great lunch and then much later that
afternoon, I'm sitting with my book outside our cabin thinking about my box
of Marlboro cigarettes that I have hidden so well Robby will never find
it. The pack is in my toiletry kit, way underneath everything but I can't
get at it because Rob's in the bathroom shaving, so... damn!

The three girls come out of the cabin a couple of doors down from ours. I
glance their way and see they're all carrying mixed drinks and two of them
immediately light cigarettes. Jeez, I bummed a smoke off one of them this
morning and I'm thinking maybe they'll offer me one now except, nope, Robby
just came out. He leans over from behind me and kisses my cheek, saying, "I
see you're almost done your book." One of the girls, it's the one with buck
teeth again... today she's got a ponytail sticking out both sides of her
head as she says, "When we walked by your cabin we heard you boys doing
'it' last night," and she smiles as the big-nose girl squeals, "Diane,
you're awful!"

Robby makes a 'face' at me and then, without looking over at the girls, he
says, "You're full of it. You didn't hear shit." Buck-teeth says, "Oh yeah?
We know you guys are gay." I look at her, grinning as I'm asking, "How'd
you guess that, bucky?" And as Rob sits down on the deck chair next to
mine, the anorexic girl with thick eyebrows says, "Well, you, Dylan, look
as pretty as a girl and you're swishy so, honey, it wasn't hard to tell."
How'd she know my name? I go, "Oh yeah? Well, what I'm wondering is how
hard that dildo is you sluts are playing with?" Robby snorts out a laugh as
thick-eyebrows says, "Dylan, when you asked for a cigarette earlier I
thought you were gonna ask to borrow my mascara," and Robby goes, "He's not
swishy, bitch! And here's an idea... why don'cha mind your own business and
while you're doing that, go fuck yourselves, okay?"

All three girls laugh out loud, and then the anorexic girl says, "We'll be
listening tonight. And no hard feelings, you boys are adorable. Go dancing
with us tonight in the ballroom. There's supposed to be something called
'swing' music." Still not looking over at them, Rob mutters, "Or here's an
idea, bite me." I look over at them again and, with a big buck-teeth smile,
buck-teeth gives me the finger, I go, "I knew you were a classy chick,
bucky." Big-nose says, "All kidding aside, boys, let's meet up at the bar
tonight. You guys are fun," and Bucky goes, "Yeah, or sit at our table for
dinner. We're going down now before all the Dover sole is gone."

The girls put their empty glasses on the little round table and head for
the restaurant with thick-eyebrows saying, "We'll see you boys later."
Robby mutters, "Don't hold your breath." As bad and contentious as the
words were, they were all said in a joking manner, except for Rob's. That's
a crude crew through, huh? Good for some laughs anyway!

I go, "Rob, I didn't bum a fucking thing from those sluts..." and he puts
his hand over my mouth, saying, "I don't care if you did, Dylan. When do
you wanna go to dinner?" I shrug, "I could use a cocktail or two first. Ya
know... while I finish my book. I've only got ten pages left." He says,
"I'll get us two Planter's Punch, okay?" I nod, "Oh yeah! Caribbean drinks
this close to the Bahamas is uber appropriate."

He starts to leave, then stops and says, "Oh, in case you were you
wondering where this is," and he drops my almost full pack of Marlboro on
my lap, adding, "It was underneath everything in your toiletry kit." I'm
like. "Who the fuck's cigarettes are these?" He laughs, and then taps my
head, saying, "That's your last pack of cigarettes ever, right Dylan?" I
shrug, "Where'd you get this bogus pack of cigarettes?" He laughs again,
saying, "I just told ya. I was looking for my aftershave that always ends
up in your toiletry kit." He walks off, saying over his shoulder, "I'll
have one of those cancer sticks when I get back with our drinks... it'll
taste good with a Planter's Punch."

Jesus, it's a bitch when you can't get away with anything. Hmm, as I light
a cigarette I'm thinking Robby will probably use the convenience bar on
this level. After fifteen minutes I realize everyone on this level must use
that bar because he's not back yet. Then, here he comes. When Rob hands me
the cocktail I hand him a cigarette and he says, "Jesus, Dylan, keep an eye
on me. I'll probably be dizzy smoking this thing and I don't want to
stagger over the railing.

We tap our cocktail glasses as Rob goes, "I'm going to do everything I can
to make sure you're happy, Dylan." I say, "You already have Robby." He sits
next to me asking, "Did you finish your book?" I go, "Yeah. Ya know I read
like a million pages in this big ass book all the time wondering how the
fuck it's going to end and then I get to the ending and it's totally
fuckin' anticlimactic!" He goes, "Well, that sucks..."


THE END

I'll probably write an epilogue, a few chapters, to see how everyone is
doing at say age 26 or 27. If you want to read it, send me your email
address and I'll send you a copy.

 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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