Dylans Freshman Year

DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR

Chapter 18

by Donny Mumford

Outside the barbershop, on the sidewalk walking to the car, my face is red hot, both from the humiliation of that entire experience, and because I'm steaming mad, I'm bullshit pissed off! Waiting over an hour and the barber kicks us out... what the fuck? Maybe he's had trouble with teens, or who knows... maybe the guys just crazy. The barber slammed the door on us and pulled down the shade on the door, and that's that. "Jesus Christ, Willie! How'd ya pick that asshole barbershop?" He's like, "The guys a psycho case, how'd I know? I went by the look of the place, I thought old time barbers would know how to do a good flattop better than the stiffs at like Super Cuts or something." He's humiliated too. In all fairness I can't really blame him, so I lighten-up a little, saying, "Alright, not your fault, who the fuck expects a nitwit like that... um, ever?" We get in the car and Willie's still feeling the embarrassment of the situation, and shouts, "Shit!" Then shakes the steering wheel like he's trying to tear it off, "What a jerk-off that guy is!" Then calming down, "Let me call Leonard up at prep, the salon I usually use. I hate to drive all the way up there, but he'll fit us in 'cause I've been over-tipping him for years." He makes the call and is quickly rebuffed by the girl at the desk. Willie slams the cell phone on the seat and it bounces onto the floor. "The bastard wouldn't even talk to me. That bitch at the reception desk simply told me Leonard said he's all booked-up... never mind that's it's me. Goddammit!" I look out the window thinking, "This isn't like any 'Willie date' I remember!"

But still, I'm feeling bad for Willie, things just usually never go this way when I'm with him; things usually go like clockwork, and people are usually kissing Willie's ass trying for the absurd over-tipping he just referred to. I'm kinda embarrassed for him actually, so I reach over to squeeze his arm, saying, "Forget about it, Willie." He looks at me, shaking his head, "I've got my heart set on the flattops, dammit... although I do feel like an ass bringing us here." He lights a cigarette, takes a big inhale and passes it to me, muttering, "There's only about a thousand barbershops around this area, we'll drive up the road until we see one and just go in." Well, the more we drive, the more it becomes apparent that there aren't a thousand barbershops around this area. There are a thousand unisex shops and franchise places like SuperCuts, Fantastic Sams, and Clip Joint, plus salons like Coco's and places where woman rule. Willie won't hear of a woman cutting a flattop, so that eliminates all of them. When we do find a regular barbershop there's always a woman as one of two barbers, and Willie's getting really frustrated and pissed off, "Nothings been going my way in like... forever!" He screamed that out like a crazy person, saliva flying out of his mouth splattering the windshiel of this shit box car, in which the air conditioning doesn't work, by the way, and it's an unseasonably hot day for spring in New England. "Why is this happening to me?" he wonders out loud. By now I've got a roaring headache because I'm starving, so I say, "Calm the fuck down, and lets get something to eat." Willie shouts, "I had reservations for a nice lunch at Burtons, but that was for an hour ago!" He's distressed beyond any sensible reasoning, so I quietly suggest, "Just a hamburg or pizza will be fine." He slouches in his seat, lays on the horn at some dork who pulls out right in front of us, and whines, "I wanted this to be a good beginning for our date, and it's turned to shit." I touch his shoulder, saying, "It's okay, Willie. There, pull into that Burger King." He moans, "Oh gawd! Burger King," but he pulls in and parks. We stand in line for ten minutes before my turn at the counter, Willie behind me. I order cheeseburgers and fries, with medium Cokes for both of us, and as Willie's funbling to get his wallet I hand the lady a ten dollar bill, saying over my shoulder, "It's on me this time." He whines, "I wanted to pay for that," as we're taking our trays to a sticky table.

Our burgers look like they've been in someone's back pocket all morning, and Willie only eats two bites of his, and half his fries. He's moping, which I'm pretty good at myself at times, but usually only with Chubby when I want to get my way, not because I'm really moping. I say, "Cheer up, Willie! Things are looking up, my headache's almost gone." He asks, "Headache?" but I just shake my head like I was kidding, as I'm thinking, "Jesus... is this whole week gonna suck?"

After our lunch, such as it was, we're back in the car driving around Framingham now, my neck of the woods, and even though Chubby and I have never been to a barber shop, I know where they are. I direct him to a couple, but there's a woman barber in both places. Willie finally jerks the car to a stop and we go in Richard's Haircutting For Men, a relatively modern looking place. Inside the door an older lady says, "You're next," to us, and Willie pushes my back so I give him a glare over my shoulder and sit down in the lady's barber chair still looking at Willie with eyes that could kill. He mouths, "Flattop" and that's what I tell the senior citizen lady barber. She tightens the noose, I mean the cape, around my neck, asking, "You mean, a buzzcut?" and, looking at Willie, I say, "No, a flattop!" She blows a lot air out, mumbling, "I'll do my best, but we don't get much call for flattops, and she said 'flattops' in a mocking manner. Then adds, "It's gonna be close on the sides; somebody really screwed-up your hair." I'm thinking, "You old bat...." but I switch to being pissed at Robby instead. As granny's running clippers around the sides and back of my head, Willie's getting in the other barber chair which, I suppose, is Richard's chair... he's a man anyway. This old lady must have taken up haircutting at an older age because she isn't much good at it. Not as bad as Robby, but ya know? She finally says, "That's as good as I can make it," as she's taking the cape from around me, spilling all my beautiful hair on the floor. She'd said she'll do her best, but if this is her best I'd hate to catch her on an bad day. Jesus! It's not actually a flattop, closer to a buzzcut with a tiny flattop from the forehead back about two inches, then it's all buzzed to a half inch. I look up at the menu on the wall and don't see a price for a flattop, so ask, "How much?" and she goes, "Nineteen dollars." Rolling my eyes, I give her a twenty and wait for the change, thinking two things: one, if this butcher is expecting a tip for this awful haircut she'll be waiting a long, long time... and two, we shoulda kept our mouths shut and gone back to the cigarette smoking grumpy barber we first went to. Oh, I forgot... he doesn't do flattops! She stalls for a few seconds, waiting for me to say, "Keep the change," but I don't say it, so she hands me the dollar grumbling under her breath, and then plops her ass down in her barber chair to wait for her next victim. She don't get many repeat customers, I'm willing to bet on that.

Willie's still in the chair so I go outside for a cigarette, wanting to kick something, or somebody. When Willie comes out he's feeling his head which is sporting a flattop, and not a bad one. It looks good, but mine looks like shit, and Willie says, "What'd ya tell her?" I shout back at him, "You heard me, I said flattop, and this is what I got." He shouts back, I told ya everything's been shittty for me lately," as he stomps off toward the car with me following, thinking, "Shitty for you? I'm the one with the fucked-up haircut." The car won't start. Willie jerks on the steering wheel again screaming, veins bulging from his neck, "This fucking piece of shit!!" he screams, with me letting out a long exhale... some spring break, huh? Willie's got tears of rage in his eyes by now as he's stabbing numbers into his cell phone. I hear, "Paul, the car won't start," pause, then, "I'm in Framingham and the car won't fuc... won't start!" He listens, then says, "Getting a haircut... can you get a towing service or something to come and jump the car?" He's looking at the office building next to where we're parked, and then gives the address, then a weak, "Thanks, Paul... we'll wait in the car." Paul, who must be Paul Windell, Martha's husband and executive secretary to Willie's father, apparently asked Willie who the 'we' is because I hear him murmur, "It's Dylan Newman and I wanted this day to go so perfectly," and he's actually crying, but he turns away to say goodbye to Paul, and then wipes his eyes. His frustration level is off the charts, and goes further off the charts after we've been sitting here for an hour with no help arriving. It takes another call to Paul and another forty-five minutes in the car before a tow truck pulls up... three minutes later we're on our way; neither of us saying a word, just smoking cigarettes, spitting, and blowing smoke out the windows. Finally, close to Willie's Weston mansion, he sounds contrite, saying, "I'm very sorry for all this, particularly for losing my composure so embarrassingly. I'm sorry you had to go through this, okay?" I touch his arm mumbling, "No problem," and shortly we're driving up his long curvy driveway and his spirits pick up a little. "We'll turn it all around from here on out, right, Dylan?" He says it with a false sounding enthusiasm, but at least he's trying, so I'm determine to turn it all around too.

Inside I get a very warm greeting from the housekeep, Martha. "Dylan, thank goodness! You'll pick up Willie's spirits; he's been so depressed." Willie mutters, "I have not.." and Mr. Windell comes out of his office to pat my back and shake hands, asking, "How's Merrimack, son?" I mumble, "It's great, thanks for asking." Mr. Windell is on his way out, "Be back in a few hours, Martha. Can I get you something when I'm out?" She says, "Bring back some Chinese food from Lu Woo's for dinner, Rumen's off tonight." Willie screeches, "The chef's off tonight? Dylan and I needed one of his special dinners! This is our last night before Key West... Rumen promised me..." Martha's patting Willie's back, cooing, "Something important came up, honey, and Ruman needs to deal with it in Boston. How 'bout joining Mr. Windell and me for Chinese, you love..." Willie butts in, "No thanks, Martha! We'll eat out." Then, softer, "But thank you... we'll be upstairs." Mr. Windell had a stern look on his face until Willie softened up his voice, then says, "See ya later, Martha... boys.." and out the door he goes. We're heading up the backstairs, and it's brings back so many memories for me, pleasant ones until Martha calls after us, "Ya filled the car up with gas, right Willie? I need it first thing in the morning for my trip to Worcester to see my sister." Willie, under his breath goes, "Shit!" then calmly says, "No, I forgot, sorry. Come on Dylan, lets go do that now." We trudge back down to the five car garage, with me asking, "If we're going out to dinner later, why not get the gas then?" He stops, with an exasperated deep breath, and quietly says, "Why not indeed... I can't think straight anymore." We turn around and go back to the house where Willie advises Martha of our plan, then we again head up to his room.

"So far, this is not what I had planned, Dylan, not at all like I planned... nothing has gone like I planned for a while now, but I'm not gonna bore you with all that." Bending over as he talks, he begins going through the bottom drawer of his tall bureau, moving clothing out of the way until he comes up with two pairs of silky girl's bikini underwear. Turning around with a big smile on his face, he goes, "Ta da! Remember these, Dylan? We'll both wear them later, but lets try them on for a minute now, okay? It'll be fun, like the old days," and he's stepping out of his sneakers as I bite the side of my lip, saying nothing. Frankly, I know I'm not feminine in the least so it doesn't emasculate me to wear girl's silk panties for the fun of it once in a while; hell, they feel nice on my shaved groin. And I did make a pact with myself to recapture the old days, if only temporarily, so lets see if this gets Willie all the way back to his old self.

With a rye grin, I go, "How could I forget those, Willie?" More like himself now, in familiar territory I guess, he goes on excitedly, "Yeah, it's still my thing... kooky, but it's so sexy too. Don'cha think?" Taking off my sneakers, I mumble, "Yeah, I guess," as I watch his face get animated looking up at me while he's quickly undressing, and for some reason, that I don't understand, I feel kinda bad for him. But, why should I feel bad for a rich boy who appears to have it all? Willie's already pulled off his designer jeans, and now his boxer shorts, and then there it is... his extra long penis, looking healthy and happy. It flops around as he uninhibitedly pulls on it a couple of times, then steps into the white panties and pulls them up snugly. His cock and balls bulge-out the front, covering only half of his pubic hairs, which are pale brown and in their natural state. When I pull off my boxers Willie stares, and then, seeing my shaved pubic area goes, "Oh yeah! I forgot," as he's pulling off the panties. Then, "Will you help me shave my pubes, Dylan... like you used to?" He seems like a little kid, all excited with big eyes that seem to be imploring me to, I don't know... to come out and play, like we were eight years old or something, and that feeling of being sad for him comes over me again. I slowly say, "Sure, Willie, if you want."

As he's stepping back out of the panties, he says, "We'll put these on before we go out, okay, Dylan?", making a question out of a statement. I pull my boxers and jeans back up; then Willie takes my hand and, with his long dick swinging between his legs he drags me into his huge bathroom, and I go, "Wow!" It's been completely redone and as amazing as it was before, it's now even more unbelievable. He sees my reaction and matter-of-factly says, "Oh yeah, father had all the bathrooms renovated last fall," and he starts rummaging through one of the built-in drawers of the vanity encircling two granite sinks. All the hardware in the bathroom, and there's a lot of it, is brushed nickel and more elaborate than would seem necessary. The whole bathroom is an unbelievable combination of granite, wood moldings, and thick clear glass, all shiny clean and sparkling... the bathroom of a king, or I guess in this case, a prince. "This is really, um, a nice bathroom Willie," I mumble, as he looks back and says, "Yeah, I love it." It's so frigin' clean it I have to numbly ask, "Did the cleaning service just clean in here, or something?" He goes, "Yeah, they clean it everyday," and then, "Here they are," and he comes up with the beard trimmer he took from his father's room a couple of years ago. Guess his father gave up looking for it and bought a new one. Willie spreads a towel and stands on it, saying, "Ready, Dylan?" excited and eager. Glancing at him, I nod that I'm ready and see a sparkle in Willie's eyes for the first time, which gives me a goofy good feeling that I'm helping him get out of the 'blues'. After giving him a little grin, I keel down, pick up his loose cock to move it to the side, and turn on the clippers. Willie rubs my bad haircut, saying, "This looks okay," I go, "Uh huh," and run the clipped up beside his nuts to the top of his pubic patch cutting off lots of feathery-light pale-brown hairs which cascade over my hand and drift to the floor. After the second run through his pubes, Willie mutters, "Damn, that's cool... I feel a boner coming on," and sure enough, I feel his dick firm-up in my hand, so I stroke it... the foreskin sliding up and back, easily covering his pink, one-eyed cock head. After three strokes the foreskin slides off leaving the head shiny with an early drip of pre cum. I look up, asking, "Pre cum already?" and Willie leans over to clasp my cheeks between both his hands, saying, "You have no idea how much you turn me on... you're so fucking cute and sexy-looking it should be against the law," and he laughs, then plants a kiss on my upturned face, right next to my mouth, and adds, "But I'm glad there isn't a law like that," and another kiss. I mumble, "Um, thanks..." and finish shaving his pubes; it only takes two minutes. He's got himself a pretty fair boner by the time I'm done. I'd like to suck it, to be honest about it, but that might mess up Willie's plans, whatever they are, and he's suffered enough setbacks already today.

Done with the clipper work, Willie says, "This is awesome... it just feels so good when you touch me. Your hands are so smooth and you're gentle and it's all just as wonderful as I remember." I'm thinking, "Gentle? That's a new one..." Well, I'm not one to turn down a compliment, but this one is slightly awkward so I do a goofy shrug, muttering, "I should register these hands..." and Willie goes, "Absolutely! Okay, you're done with the clippers, so I'll get the razor and shaving cream," continuing his upbeat attitude. Oh yeah, I bring another boy out of the doldrums... Chubby last night and now Willie. I'm awesome! Heh heh. Willie's dig's out his father's Gillett ProGlide razor and shaving cream. I wet the area with a washcloth and then shaving gel; then the ProGlide slides through the hairs as if they weren't there, and even though I conscientiously take my time, I'm done in less than five minutes... Willie's crotch is now as hairless as the day he was born. What isn't the same as the day he was born is his penis which by now, as I said, pretty much a full blown boner, all eight inches of it... and it's sticking up towards Willie's chin. He's got his lips tightly closed blowing puffs of air out his nose as he trys, almost successfully, to keep his hips from humping forward. I'm pressing it against his belly as I grab the washcloth off the sink and clean remnants of gel, saying, "All done, it looks so clean and neat like this." Blowing out a long exhale, Willie says, "I love it!" as he rubs my head affectionately. "This is fun, isn't it, Dylan?" "Yeah, yeah, it's a blast, Willie," but I'm grinning in spite of myself. He says, "Um, I don't want to cum now, but do ya wanna suck it a little?" Huh, I don't mind if I do, so I go, "Okay, just a taste," and I lick up the shaft a few times, then suck on just the head, and already Willie's tap dancing, going, "Uh, uh, uh.... oooh," and just like earlier, precum drools out the pee slit, which I gulp down my throat... no taste to it. Taking it all in my mouth requires I get my head in position to take it down my throat and that's a trip and a half, let me tell ya. Great boner, really great to suck. I bring it up from my throat and lick the head slowly, but Willie's slowly pushing my head away, squeaking, "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum," so out from my mouth comes his boner, a saliva/precum string connecting from it's head to my tongue, then it breaks free and the string drifts down to wetly land across my chin and throat, as far down as my small Adams apple. Yum! I love me some young guy's cock, especially one this long.

Willie's gulping and squeezing his cock, trying not to cum, I guess. It's kinda funny and nothing like the old Willie's dominant ways. It's like he's new to this. On my knees I'm watching him with a grin on my lips, half thinking he's kidding. Kidding or not, I'd like to see Willie get a little bossier... get my juices flowing a little. He's doing some deep breathing, staring at me on my knees, a wry grin on my face, sorta licking my lips 'cause that boy has a sweet dick. We're staring into each others eyes, with me wondering, "What the fuck...?" when a light seems to go on behind Willie's eyes. He's twisting his lips together like he's contemplating something, then mumbles, "Well, nothing else has gone the way I planned, what the hell," and he steps back, raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth as he does it, which makes me open my mouth a little. Willie pushes the head of his hard cock against my front teeth, and after half a second I open wider and he slides his cock over my tongue, then cups behind my head with both hands and gently pulls my head forward so that his cock forces it's way through my gag area and all the way down my throat again, seemingly past my heart, my nose pressed into his recently shaved belly. Humping my throat, barely moving his hips, he mumbles, "I had this beautiful picture in my head of our love making tonight, in bed, after a great dinner prepared by the chef here at the house... like we used to do, but nothing works out for me anymore, and I can't come-up with enough will power to wait that long, so I'm going to fuck you all afternoon. Okay?" He's pulling his boner out, as he asked, "Okay?" and I'm gasping for air, my face warm, turned-on now. My cock grows quickly into a hard boner and I stroke myself, thinking, "This is more like it!". His demeanor is pretty close to the way I remember him... the way he just said everything in that manner that suggests he's made a decision to fuck me all afternoon, without consulting me. That's the old Willie, haha... and it gets me excited and sexually aroused. The trace state I like so much begins to come over me like a familiar, comfortable blanket, and I nod my head up and down slightly to show Willie I like his plan. Willie does the hand on either side of my face again as he's leaning down, and at the same time pushing his cock down my throat again; then, a loving kiss on my forehead before he straightens up and does a slow fuck of my face. "I'm under control okay now," he mutters, "Not gonna cum too soon. It was the initial feel of your mouth on my cock that had me almost spunking like a thirteen year old boy's first blow job." I nod my head slightly, then gag a little before using muscles in my throat to try swallowing his cock.

Willie's beaming at me, then closes his eyes and does a quiet. "Mmmmm," to himself, and then some soothing cooing sounds follow, like he's as content as a purring cat being stroked by a safe, familiar hand . After a quiet, Ohooo, so nice," he softly says, "It's just like I remember, baby... even better because it's been so long since the last time," and the palms of both his hands are on me caressing my shoulders, then my newly-cut pseudo-flattop. He pulls back so I can breath and then slides his hard, spit covered cock easily all the way down my throat again, and once more presses my face into his belly tightly. I can't smell anything until he pulls back, and I can then smell his belly; it's mostly the fresh smell of the shaving cream, but a little of Willie's personal scent too, a scent that has always aroused me... a clean boyish athletic scent of pink skin and a t-shirt worn all day long. He softly muttering, "I'd love, love, love to cum in your fabulous mouth, but I want to fill your boy-pussy with my sperm even more." That was said as he's pulling his saturated cock all the way off my tongue with an even larger saliva and precum strand attached; that too breaks off the head and swings down across my chin and neck, and my shoulders shudder as I'm running my tongue around in my mouth savoring the taste of his cock and precum. "Up ya go, baby..." and, in a trance of arousal, my boner vibrating in my pants and my anus quivering with anticipation, I shakily stand with the vague thought in my head that, "This is why I looked forward to this reunion... this is it." I must have known it was the main reason for wanting to go on the trip with him, but for some reason I hadn't allowing myself to articulate it to my consciousness. Why is that, I wonder?

His chest is expanding with deep breaths as Willie strokes his wet boner, his eyes shining brightly now, and there's different expression on his face, like... this is what it's all about, and maybe he's right. This is our connection, maybe it's always been our main connection, although I remember being very much in love with him too. Willie undoes my jeans as I stand before him staring at his uniquely attractive, now serious-looking face. He does look awesome in his flattop, all crisp and boyish in that youthful way I like so much. He pulls my shorts down to join my jeans around my ankles, and then I step out of both as my boner bounces, then my boner is snug between our bodies as he hugs me to him, and his mouth covers mine. Willie's kissing me even more intensely than the kiss in front of my condo, and I feel my balls churning spunk in a frenzy, waves of pleasure traveling from my tongue to my cock, and then they spread over my entire body and I meld into Willie and give my body to him to use for awhile. My cock is jerking now, pulling at the cum in my balls, desperately wanting to feel it shoot up and out the super sensitized head... out through the gaping lips of my piss hole. I'm making noises in my throat, ready to blow my load when Willie backs away from me. He has a round white spot on each of his cheeks that I stare at, the surround shin of his cheeks is rosy red as I look up slowly into his eyes. His short hot breaths coming out in spurts, like he's just done a lot of physical exercise. Breathlessly he says, "Turn around now, Dylan, and I'll do what you and I do better than any two boys in the world," and as I turn, he adds, "I can see in your eyes that you want it as much as I do... we're two peas in a pod when it comes to boy on boy sex." I'm matching his little-puff breathing technique as I do that tiny nod of my head, barely moving my head up and down, not really processing his exact words, just knowing I want to feel his eight inch cock, hard and long, up my rectum.

"I'll fill your pussy up with pleasure..." then quieter, "Just like we used to do when we were young." I'm thinking, "We're still young," Willie's only slightly younger than me; he's a year behind me in school, but we're both nineteen. Willie murmurs, "I'm a little nervous because I've been building this moment up in my mind ever since I asked you to go to Key West and I'm afraid I'm gonna spunk so soon it'll make me look like a wuss." I blow out a lot of air, but can't come up with anything to say. Mostly I'm just stroking my boner as my heart pounds quickly in my chest, making it hard to breath. "Don't think of anything but the sensations of this sex," I silently tell myself, as the familiar thought drifts into my head that I'm overly in love with doing this. He rubs his cock head on my buttocks, then bumps the head on my anus a few times while rubbing my back with the palm of his other hand, while murmuring, "You have the most perfect skin, it feels so smooth, not a freckle or blemish of any kind, and your ass is the sexiest ass I've ever seen." He presses the head of his cock at my asshole and uses both hands to grab fistfuls of my buttocks, then presses them together tightening my asshole, and pushes his cock past my sphincter ring in one movement. "Ow," 'cause it burns a little without lube, but we both go, "Ahhh, oooh," when his full head plows a little up my ass. With a hand on each of my shoulders he massages then tightly, grunting and blowing a lot of damp breath on my back, then his lips suck at where my neck meets my shoulder as he's pushing his hard boner slowly further and further up my ass, saying, "Tell me if it's hurting you, baby." I gulp, tightening my sphincter muscles to increase the wonderful sensation in my rectum, and try to answer him, but only a quiet, "Umm, ohhh," escapes my lips. Willie's cock head isn't as thick as Robby's, and it's smaller than Chubby's too, but still feels like it's totally filling up my tunnel. And, it keeps going up my ass, past where Robby's cock reaches and on and on until I want to scream with the thrill of it all. The visual in my mind has Willie's cock head approaching my lungs; it feels so much longer than eight inches.

A full minute later, or so it seems, I feel Willie's hairless crotch pressing against my ass, and then he presses harder against my buttocks compressing them to get on me a tiny bit deeper. He's got a hand on each of my hips now, pulling me into him as he presses against me, and it's a natural inclination for me to bend forward. Willie quietly exhales a long held-breath, then he says, "That's right, baby, bend all the way over so I can fuck you properly." He's swiveling his hips moving his hard boner in that manner which further massages my prostate, and I whimper, "Oooohhh, yeah," before he pulls slowly out, maybe six inches, then drives his hard eight inch boner back up, mumbling, "I got ya now, babe, huh?" and all I can do is grab my cock and stroke it fast a few times, groaning with pleasure. I loved that dumb, but dominant statement right there... the, "I got ya now, babe" one; it makes me feel dominated, like I belong to him, or something, and that he's glad I do. It's stupid, and I know that, but it's part of the sexual game to me, and without understanding it, I love it so! Perhaps feeling totally in charge now, Willie begins a staccato rhythm of fucking,: three quick full-length thrust followed by the grinding and swiveling hips motion, then a half dozen slow penetrations as he blows out a lot of air once again, and croons, "Ohhhh boy, ooooh yes," then, while humping me fast and hard, he grunts out, "How you like it, Dylan? Feel good?" and this time I do reply, with, "Yes sses, yeahh ehh," stuttering it out as he's roughly humping me now, fucking me so fast and hard my voice box is skipping from syllable to syllable. My dick is leaking now too, and my rectum is alive with the best-feeling sensations imaginable. I don't dare touch my cock or I'd blow my load for sure." He stops, pulls out, and orders, "Lay on your back at the edge of the bed!" My asshole is stretched wide open and the lips of my anus pucker and do a sucking motion wanting his cock back in there. I flop on the bed, my eyes starry and my body tingling pleasantly, it's like being addicted to cocaine or something; I want it so bad I'm licking my lips and tightening all the muscles in my belly and ass, desperate to feel that long rod up inside me again. "Legs spread and back," he says, and as I comply I'm staring at his engorged, wet, shiney cock; what a huge boner; it's so long it droops even being as hard as it is. My six inches is sticking straight out from my body, the head pulsating like it's a living thing on it's own; the lips of my pee slit are open wide, ready to explode with the cum that's rolling around in my nuts. Willie looks at me with eyes of old, "Ya lovin' it, baby... huh?" and all I can do is nod my head and inch off the edge of the bed to get my ass a little closer to that incredible boner of his.

After massaging my ass a few times, teasing me, making me gasp with desire, he murmurs, "Ya ready for more, babe?" and I gasp, "Yeah, yes, Willie, fuck me..." he smiles and leans down to stick his tongue in my mouth, and then suck on my tongue, pulling in out of my mouth before letting go of it, then sucking my top lip and doing the same pulling action, his cock head half way past my anus lips and I involuntarily hump my ass forward causing the cock head to pass fully through, "Eeeee, ahhh, Willie," as he straightens up and fucks me hard, like he's pissed-off about something. His lips tightly closed, his eyes barely open to slits. My legs go around his waist and I try to pull him into me more as the feeling comes on me and my eyes get wide; almost immediately cum splatters out of my cock head, and I go, "Eeee," again, then the whole orgasm is trying to fly out at the same time causing that burning sensation at the pee slit that I often get when especially aroused. Willie's long cock slamming up my ass and I almost blackout with relief as the first stream of cum passes through my cock, and I'm squeezing every muscle in my body to assist two fast moving short spurts of cum quickly following the first long one. that first main stream of my spunk is drooling down Willies chest as he closes his eyes entirely making a "Shusssss'ing sound through his clenched lips, then he fills my ass with his creamy boy cum, all sweet and sticky. He goes, "Oh my gawd!!! Ahhhh, oh, oh,oh...." and my ass is a sloppy wet mess, but he continues driving his cock up there anyway, drawing cum out with each withdrawal, and splashing it around my ass, and his crotch, with each hard penetration. Gasping for breath, Willie finally lays on my chest, leaving a good portion of his cock in my soggy rectum; it was a very excellent fuck and our hearts beat against our chests as we both breath deeply, my legs still around him, and now my arms go around his back as the bodies of two nineteen year old gay boys shimmy and shake with sexual vibrations that are both glorious, and somehow a little scary because it was a sexual encounter of great intensity. The intensity was initiated by Willie, but adopted by me, by osmosis perhaps. Very different than the sex Chubby and I shared, which was full of love, and possibly need. This was sex, period. It's like Willie was trying to excise demons of his that I don't know about. Still, it was sexually hotter than the hubs of hell... or I imagine it was, not knowing exactly how hot the hubs of hell are.

Willie is soon whispering in my ear, his lips right next to my right one; "Thank you, Dylan... there's only 'you' as far as I'm concerned when it comes to perfect sex." Not knowing what that means, but thinking there's probably a story behind it, as obviously Willie's self confidence, self image too I guess, has been tampered with somehow since the last time we had sex together. Another mystery for me to wonder about. He recaptured a little of his old swagger during the fuck, but now he's back to acting more like, I don't know, a grateful frame of mind. He used to act like he was so cool it was almost as through he was giving me a gift; the gift of fucking me. I know that's dumb, but it seemed that way at times; at times way back when, that is. Not that I ever minded it so much, no more than I minded Willie's other eccentric behavior at times... it was just Willie being the unique boy that he is... or was. What's happened in the past eight or nine months to him? I'm pretty sure I'll find out in the coming days, but for now I have this weird sense that I'm taking care of him somehow. Or maybe it's just that everything went wrong for him today; it was such an "un-Willie-like" start to our so-called date.

After a minute of silence, just hugging and sweating together, he asks quietly, almost shyly, "How was it for you, Dylan?" Seems like lately everyone wants to be complimented on their fucking technique. Well, Willie's was awesome, I must say; so, trying to pick-up his spirits again, I enthusiastically say, "Awesome, Willie! Whaddaya think, dude... you fuck great!" and he humps my ass a few more times before picking his head up, and with a little grin on his lips, goes, "Right answer, baby. Aww, you're the best, Dylan, and you always have been." I smile back at him, staring at his face, which I've always thought is unusual, although very cute. Then as he gets back on his feet and slowly pulls his now fairly limp cock from my ass, with me making a "Hissssss," through my teeth at the sensations in my rectum, his cock head pops-out and his dick swings free, as he says, "Let's take a shower, then I got a couple of presents for you." I'm thinking, "Here we go again," but then, who gives me presents other than Willie? I'm kinda excited about it actually.

Getting out of bed, we take off the rest of our clothes and Willie, holding my hand, leads me into the bathroom, our dicks swinging in the breeze and my ass drooling cum down the back of my legs. The cum I shot across his chest is almost dry now; some on it was transferred to my chest when he lay on me and it's dry now too, feeling stiff on my chest and stomach. The shower is so wonderful it's sick; I mean it's outrageously awesome with four spouts pouring water on us from all sides, plus a rain-water big-headed nozzle over head. I'm assuming the Worthington's aren't concerned with the size of their carbon footprint. We're drenched within five seconds. Willie laughing, takes a handheld shower head and directs the sprat at my balls, and Jesus! that's a sensation... so cool. I get the other handheld shower head and spray it on Willie's nuts and now we've got water coming at us from seven shower heads; a person could drown in here. After acting like nine year old kids for a minute, we put the handheld shower sprays back on the granite walls and shampoo each other's hair, then do the same all over our bodies with thick cotton washcloths using excellent smelling bath gel; a manly scent for us gay boys. What a great shower. Drying with heavy blanket towels, Willie seems happy enough so maybe I'm misreading him; maybe he's just more serious than he used to be... or maybe not. I'm just not sure, but this is turning into a good day after all, so why fabricate things to worry about? Hell, I'll just enjoy the uniqueness of this experience; it's always different from what I'm used to when I'm with Willie; todays just been a different kind of different.

Shiny clean, but still naked, we choose clothes to wear, Willie insisting I wear his. First the panties he showed me earlier go on, and ooooh, they feel so silky smooth, but my cock and balls bulge out the front almost as much as Willie's. Ha ha, weird, but kinda kinky cool. Willie says, "Lets go all Abercrombie and Fitch," and opens a section of his mahogany ceiling-to-floor dresser with all A & P stuff. Well, the temperature is in the sixties outside, so I grab what looks like a brand new blue, pull-over hoodie of light weight material, then a pair of classic gray sweatpants, and a cool-looking yellow short sleeve T-shirt for under the hoodie. Willie mumbles, "Ah, my favorite cellar mountain tee," as he as picks out a crew-neck, dark blue sweater, and a pair of straight-leg, slim-fit jeans. These are so cool! I put on my the sweat pants, mercifully covering my pink panties, then my tee, and lastly the hoodie. I'm a rich kid again, haha. After pulling on my own sneakers, which drags down the 'look' some what, but not a lot, I ask, "How do I look, Willie?" He says, "Good enough to eat," as his crew neck goes over his head, then his jeans and sneakers go on. Cloths look best on slim boys like us. "Okay, now let me show you what I got for you, Dylan," and Willie's really 'up' now, so things have turned around. "I know you don't like to keep my gifts, but I hope you'll keep these. They're not that expensive, really... and they're perfect for you.

He takes two Neiman Marcus shopping bags from beside his desk, saying, "I got stuff for myself too," and gives a sort of embarrassed chuckle, before adding, "Couldn't help myself. Buying new stuff is fun. Here..." and he hands me one of the bags, saying, "Only four little things for our trip." Smiling, I mumble, "Thanks, Willie... that's sweet, dude," and take a peek inside. The first thing I see is an eyeglass case, a wicked nice one too, so I take it out of the bag, figuring they're sunglasses... and that's what they are. A pair of Oakley sunglasses... so fuckin' cool they're sick! Reading the tag: it says, "Oakley Split Transition Jacket... Solfx," whatever all that means. I know what the little numbers mean; on a little tag hanging from a string, I discover the sunglasses cost $260.00. Looking up at Willie, I go, "They're really not that expensive? Is that what you said?" and he cuckles again, enjoying himself. "Only the Oakleys are expensive, kinda... well, the swim trucks too, I guess." Shaking my head, then saying, "I absolutely love them! Thank you so much," and he pulls the same case from his bag, saying, "Ta da! I have a pair just like 'em. Aren't the cool?" and he puts his on, then I put mine on, and yeah... they look cool alright! Wow! Reaching in the bag I pull out the swimming shorts he mentioned, and while they're really nice, they don't look all that expensive until I see the tag on them for an even $200.00. The tag reads, "Vilebrequin Moorea Patterned Swim Shorts". Huh, never heard of them, but they're cool too; awesome pattern, like the islands. Willie pulls his out and they're just like mine, except a different background color: mine pale green and Willie's pale yellow... very classy looking. I have to say, "They're awesome, Willie, I love these too," and he's really beaming now. The last two items are super nice, but mundane compared to the first two presents. One is an orange Dri-FIT Nike, sleeveless tee... the kind with shoulders, but without sleeves, plus, of course the Nike swoosh logo... cool! I love this kind of t-shirt, the sleeveless ones that show off my guns. The last thing in the bag is a pair of Nike baggy training shorts that reach to the knees, also made with the Dr-FIT material, so light, almost flimsy, like you're wearing nothing almost. Willie has the same tee and shorts, but in different colors; he probably thinks he's dressing down with these items, and for him I guess he is, but I'd never pay forty dollars for a T-shirt, or sixty dollars for shorts. "Willie, you out did yourself, dude. I'd pick the same things for myself... if, ya know, I could afford them." He comes over and we kiss, with him mumbling, "You're so welcome, sweetheart. You'll look fabulous in everything."

This is different than the last time he gave me presents. That time each one was wrapped in designer paper in separate boxes, and Willie had narrated each gift, expecting me to fall all over him with each present. This time he hands me a shopping bag, and has one himself... casual like. More casual, more relaxed, more like guys do. Plus, he knows I like Nike stuff so he got me two things from Nike. The swim shorts designers I've never heard him mention, and obviously I'd never have heard of him on my own. Oakley sunglasses everybody's heard of, but few can afford them. Still, this time the most expensive gift is the sunglasses when in the past the cheapest gift he's ever given me was a $350.00 sport watch, which is among the stuff I sent back to him, but I dod love that watch. With a twinkle in his eyes, Willie reaches in his shopping bag, and goes, "Oh, what a surprise, I bought myself one more gift... and it's from the Apple Store!" Like he doesn't know what it is. Out comes Apple's latest iPod, and Willie explains, "This baby has 160 GB, can hold 40,000 songs and 200 hours of video. I got a dock for it too so we can play my iPod like a CD player." I go, "Whoa, that's sharp looking," and Willie rattles off the details, "Black anodized aluminum, uber cool." I go, "What are you saying, you didn't get me one?" and Willie blushes like he's committed a major faux fas, a major social plunder. He then wrestles me around the neck, gives me a kiss, and says, "I'm sorry, here, you can have this one." I go, "Willie!!! I'm kidding," and he says, "No really, take it; we'll play tunes in Key West with this thing... both can enjoy it. I already loaded it with all my CD's and itunes." Giving Willie a hug, I thank him again for everything, but insist I was kidding, "I already have an iPod, Willie, " although I don't. He reluctantly agrees to keep it, then says, "I saved some of those presents you broke my heart by sending back to me last fall... look," and he opens a shoe box where, wrapped in tissue paper, are my necklace, watch, and wallet. "Willie!" I yell, "This isn't playing fair! I love those things and it was hard parting with them, now you tease me by bringing them back to life." He's like, "I'm sorry, but they're yours. I thought you'd be happy to see them again." I go, "I am, and I'll use them all during our trip, then they all go back to you for safe keeping..." He mutters, "We'll see," as I'm taking off my Timex and putting on this awesome sport watch. Then the David Yurman necklace with the cross, which I always wore outside my shirt to show it off. Somebody, it might have been that asshole Jake, told me this necklace cost at least a thousand dollars. The wallet I slip in my pocket and it feels like it belongs there. Hey, I'll be bringing these new clothes with me too, they're cool to ignore!

Willie says, "Ya wanna try our new stuff on?" and I give him a look like, "Ya gotta be kidding!" He spreads his hands, saying, "What...?" I go, "That's slightly girlie isn't it? Trying on new clothes." He says, "Yeah, it probably is, but we're wearing girl's panties, doesn't that allow us to bypass the macho rule of pretending we don't give a shit about clothes?" I made a goofy face, and say, "Ya know what, I think it does," and we strip off our pants to try on the swim shorts... oh man, perfect fit! We try all our new clothes on and compliment each other on how we look in them. I think they're all awesome. When we're back in our original clothes, the ones from Willie's A & F closet, he goes, "Hey, look at the time. I gotta make dinner reservations... how 'bout Ken's?" Ken's Steak House is a restaurant Chubby and I have had dinner at a few times, just the two of us when we needed to work out a problem or celebrate a solution to a problem. I go, "Sure, Ken's is great. I'd like that." His cell phone beeps before he can call though, and when he checks the called ID, he goes, "Jesus, it's Carl, Carl Denton." I'm like, "Carl? You still hangin' out with those two, him and his cousin?" "No, not really," Willie mutters as he hits the 'talk' key, saying, "Hello?" All I hear is Willie, of course... He looks at me, then turns away saying, "Yeah, he's here, how'd you know?"... then after listening, he says, "Um, yeah I did, but it wasn't a good idea,"... then after a bit, "We're going out to dinner at Ken's," .... then, "Um, I don't know. I'll ask him." Holding the phone against his chest, Willie turns to me, and says, "Carl's got some guys over, not Larry, and he wants us to stop over for old times sake. They're doing a New England clam bake with lobsters and all that stuff... clam chowder and all. Whaddaya say, wanna stop over to say hello, and we can eat there?" Jeez, I haven't seen Carl in a couple of years. He's my original mentor into gay sex, and he actually took advantage of me, but I did get a wicked crush on him before coming to my senses. What to say? I go, "Um, I don't know, what do you think?" Willie shrugs, and says, "Let's go, we can always leave if it sucks," and not wanting to argue, I go, "I'm not so sure I want to see him again, but... oh, I don't know." Willie says, "Fuck it, we'll stop in," and to Carl, "Okay, what times dinner?" and they talk for another little bit before he clicks off the cell, and says to me, "We'll make it an early night. The guys are doing the cooking and they're making the chowder right now, we can stop over anytime." It's my turn to shrug, but I don't say anything... it sounds like a bad idea, and that's what I should have said right off the bat, but I didn't.

With a devilish grin on his face, Willie comes over and musses my flattop, as much as you can muss a flattop, asking, "Wanna mess around some more, in our panties this time... and, ya know, see what pops up?" Without having planned to say this, I say, "Oh, okay, but I want to be the one messin' around on top." His eyes open wide, "You want to top?!!! Oh my God, I'm all squirmy! I didn't think you did that, I'd love it!" Jesus, he seems sincerely excited. I try to act suave, going, "Oh yeah. I top a lot with my boyfriend," and I don't even know why I'm lying, but the fact is I need to do more of this... it's a whole different sensation, and every one of the rare times I've done it I ask myself, "Why don't I do this more often?" although I already know the answer to that question: it's because I like the bottom best, but still this is all about a different adventure; this me-and-Willie, boyfriend-on-the-side thing... this maybe boyfriend-on-the-side thing... ya know, if it all turns out okay. Willie's taking off his clothes again, asking, "Is it okay if we do it in bed?" I'm a tad nervous all of a sudden, wanting to do it good, but lacking a lot of experience. I fake confidence, and say, "Sure," as I start taking off my clothes.

In Willie's larger-than-king size bed, under the dark blue sheets, we're face to face, as I ask, "How do you like it?" He says, " Me on my back and you on top so we can kiss while you fuck me. This is so exciting I'm probably gonna cum in thirty seconds." His voice is so much like Robby's it throws me off for a second, and I hesitate before mumbling, "Um..." and Willie adds, "Or anyway you want, that's just my favorite way... it doesn't need to be that way though." I say, "No, no... that's a good way, but, dude, you just had a huge orgasm a couple hours ago so you won't likey blow another one in thirty seconds, heh heh," and lean in for a kiss. Willie's the best kisser, and I'm not saying I'd rather make-out with him than Robby, just that he's an awesome make-out boy. He's been doing it a hell of a lot longer than Robby and me; well, I'm not sure he's been doing it longer then Robby, but longer then me for sure. I was a quick study when it came to gay related things though, and I guess I gotta admit that Carl was a good mentor in that regard. Making out with Willie for a minute just now and my mind goes blank because it's so perfectly sexy; he's my first true lover and there's nothing like your first love. God, he gets me hot, and my boner comes up quickly as a result. It's his aroma and intensity that captures me, and soon both our boners are sticking out the top of our panties, rubbing together and, man oh man, that's the best! Short of breath my mouth comes loose of his, so he starts licking around my face and nose with his bubble-gum pink tongue, and that old sensation of smelling him and his clear, clean saliva, and his almost naked body really gets me hot, and I just love this feeling! It's a whole body experience, laying skin to skin from head to foot, so that all my sensors are on high alert, and tingling. "I love doing this with you, Dylan," he mutters. I gasp, "Get on your back, we'll do it like that." He flops over, panting... his face flushed, his eyes shining. It occurs to me that Willie may like boy-on-boy as much as I do. I get on top of him, then sit-up on my knees between his legs and slide my hand under his panties, stretching them so I can press my finger on his anus... pressing until it slides inside him. He groans, and then says, "Let me suck your cock to get it slippery." I finger his hole a few times, pull out and shimmy up his body. Five minutes ago we were trying on clothes and not we're both in the middle of hot sexual arousal; it don't take Willie and me long to get into it... or Robby and me either, for that matter. We're lucky that way!

With a knee at each of Willie's armpits, I'm hovering over him pulling my panties down under my nuts, then lower my cock to his open mouth and slide it in on his tongue, that great pink tongue that he's sticking out for me. His eyes close as he sucks my boner into his mouth, lifting his head so he can take it into his throat. So fucking hot!! I'm biting my lip as he uses his throat muscles to do swallowing motions and then lays his head back down to suck on my cock head, lathering it with his spit. Oooh, I lean forward to feel it down his throat again, then pull up with Willie choking and sputtering. Pulling my sloppy boner out of his mouth, the same kind of spit and precum string attaches to his lips that attached to mine when I sucked his long cock a couple hours ago. The same thing happens to the wet string too; I pull back and the string flops onto his chin and Willie licks it clean as I make my way back to get between his legs again. He spreads his legs and humps up his ass a little as I fumble with my boner, a little over anxious. I get it to match with his asshole, and wait a second just staring at his eager face before humping it inside him, and we both go, "Eeeee, oooh," then I slowly push my cock up his ass, my eyes close as saying to myself, "Yes! You gotta do this more often!" and then I'm laying against his newly shaved crotch, all the way up inside him. The withdrawal has me on the verge of squealing, it feels so fabulous, and seeing Willie laying there submissively, letting me fuck him, is a turn on too, and I see the attraction he has for doing me. Inside his rectum my slippery boner feels snug from head to shaft as in and out, and in and out it goes... jesus, it feels so good. Willie's licking around his lips, mumbling, "Fuck me, baby, fuck me," and with that encouragement I get a good rhythm going and Willie begins bumping up off the bed to match my thrust up his ass, and then we get a little wild with it for a minute bringing on that feeling in my balls. I slow up again and lean down to connect with his quivering lips; his arms go around my neck and as he sucks on my tongue my hips begin fucking him fast again. Our bodies constantly rubbing together, the taste of his mouth and the wonderful boyish/sexy smell of him as me grunting in my throat, and then, with a gargling sound from his throat and a violent hump of his hips against my crotch, Willies cock shoots-out a short string of cum that wets my stomach, then another long one, and another as he's almost crushing my face against his. Then I shoot what feels like a long stream of cum up his ass and I do a really hard hump into his ass, holding my cock as far up his rectum as I can get it, and pour more spunk out as the sensations are all over me now. As usual, my toes curl until they're about to cramp-up with me doing hard, short humps against his crotch, my boner squishing around in the cum in his ass. It's great to be a teenager at moments like this. Love my second orgasms! Willie's hips are still bouncing up against me, and I'm still fucking him, but we're both out of spunk.

Slowly the world comes back in focus as I slow down my fucking, slowing it down until I just flop down on Willie. He's kissing any part of my face he can reach, mumbling, "That was awesome, baby..." then quieter, "I love you, Dylan... love you so much, sweetheart," and somewhere in my brain I'm thinking, "Uh oh...." It passes without me reciprocating feelings of love, although I'd be glad to reciprocate feelings of lust for him: Willie is uniquely sexual... to me, at least. Pulling out of his ass my dick stays hard; it enjoyed itself immensely, so did I, but I'm not in love with Willie and I'm hoping that topic is just a fleeting thing with him too; hoping he just got caught-up in the moment. We lay together, me in his arms, talking about the sex we just had and complimenting each other just like we did when trying on our new clothes. No further talk of love, and I give Willie credit for dropping that when I didn't respond to it. He finally says, "I want to go to Carl's like this." I look shocked, and he laughs, then says, "Not just in our panties dummy, hahaha. I mean without taking a shower, with your sweat and spit and cum all over me. I'll just let it dry... how 'bout it?" I've got my own cum on my dick, and Willie's cum on my stomach, but it's not nearly the volume of our first fuck, and so what the hell, it's cool being raunchy sometimes, and screw Carl, who's he anyway, so I go, "Let's do it. It'll be our private joke that those phonies won't have a clue about." Willie gets out of bed with his hand at his asshole, mumbling, "Well, I think I will wipe off some of your spunk from my ass so I don't wet through my pants," and I go, "Wimpin' out..." just kidding him. He grins, and goes, "Just a little," and wipes his ass with a tissue before getting dressed, for about the tenth time this afternoon; in his A & F clothes again... I do the same. My cum soaked cock wets right through the silk panties making us both laugh.

Dressed and feeling great, Willie takes my hand and we walk to the car, Martha's car actually, with Willie saying, "Remind me to fill this bow-wow vehicle up with gag; I promised Martha." Coming up to the first gas station on the way to Carl's place, I say, "Get gas, Willie," but he drives by saying, Right after Carl's, I'm getting hungry for some lobster." As we drive along Willie mentions he saw Larry a few weeks ago and that when he probably mentioned I was coming to Key West with him, which must be how Carl knew I'd be at Willie's house. "Why's ya see Larry?" I ask, and Willie goes, "Oh, it was nothing," then changes the subject telling me about the trouble he needed to go through to be able to rent a car in Key West. It's terrible how prejudice businesses are against teenagers. His father's executive secretary, Paul Windell, had to make the arrangements through the hotel. Willie explains, "Anyway, the car rental situation is taken care of, and FYI, we'll be staying at Casa Marina resort, right on the ocean with a fabulous beach; it's where father has stayed many times over the years, and I've been there once with Mr. and Mrs. Windell once. It's the time father treated the Windells, as a Christmas present, to a long weekend in Key West. Father always stays in the top floor suite, but I didn't stay there that time with the Windells, and you and me aren't going to be staying there this week either; it's too expensive for my meager allowance!" That statement makes me frown because I'm sure Willie told me that this trip was a graduation present from his father, so what does Willie's allowance have to do with it? It's be rude to question the finances however, so I don't; maybe I heard him wrong about a graduation present. We smoke as we talk and I'm feeling pretty good; I have no desire to stay in the presidential suite, or whatever it is, anyway. Just a room, some sun and ocean, and I'll be all good. It's a new adventure, and now I'm real relaxed due to the very nice sex this afternoon; both of the 'nooners' was exceptional, actually. I'm feeling good, heading over to see an old acquaintance where I can show him how much I've grown; not in height, I mean maturity-wise. I'm no longer the scared, dumb little seventeen year old naive boy he knew. I've gotten around since then, and maybe I'll show off a little... ha ha. Plus, a lobster dinner sounds good, I've never had one. I'm curious though about the reason Willie's had for getting together with Larry, but maybe it was sorta like us getting together with Carl... just a quick reunion of sorts. Yeah, but Larry's a bigger asshole then even Carl was back then.

As he's parking the car in front of Carl's house, Willie says, "We can't forget to get gas first thing when we leave Carl's." I shrug and mumble, "Okay," as I'm staring at the house thinking about the times I walked from my house to here; it's like that old line, de' ja' vu all over again. But, damn, I remember the house being more imposing. It's a nice single house, but back then I thought it was really something special, and now it reminds me of Robby's house... nice, but kind of ordinary, middle class. Not that I wouldn't love to have it for my mom, me, Chubby and Tris. Getting out of the car we step on our cigarette butts, and I say, "Oh, there's a gas station two blocks over on Abason road, down near the light." Willie nods his head, muttering, "Good," as I hand him a stick of gum, and then it's up the sidewalk to the front door we go, with, all of a sudden, an odd feeling of dread in my head. No one answers the front doorbell so we exchange looks, then Willie says, "They're probably around back, let's try that." I'm thinking it's a bit chilly this late in the day for a cook out; it's still April fer chrissakes, but I follow Willie through a gate and then we walk down the path along the side of the house to the gate leading to the backyard... two gates, slightly redundant, no? I smile, thinking, "Wonder if Mr. Denton wears both a belt and a pair of suspenders?"

Sure enough, there's a fire-pit flaming away back here and three guys preparing food; they're jostling and giggling at the picnic table near the warming fire pit. There's also a big propane grill fired-up with a big lobster pot and a smaller pot bubbling away on the grates. Kind of a sweet set-up; maybe this'll be fun after all. It doesn't start out being fun though... a very gay-acting guy turns around at the sound of the second gate's squeaky hinges, and says, "Who the fuck are you two?" He's gay acting in the sense that he shows exaggerated limp-wrist motions waving his hands, a paring knife in one hand and the other hand keeping the first one company. He's also using what sounds like a put-on lisping voice to ask that rude question. There are a couple of rose-colored tattoos on his neck, and he's dressed like a biker: a black leather outfit studded on the shoulders with bright chrome, and black smears under each eye like football and baseball players sometimes have. Halloween anyone? His eyes are opened wide and the lisp even thicker, as he answers his own question with, "Dessert, I presume." Well, I don't know why I should be surprised... Carl is gay after all, and I guess he's 'out' by now, so why wouldn't he have gay friends. Although, I remember Carl being preppy. I've got nothing against swishers in the first place, but it's the rudeness that's offensive. Willie had some friends like this at the Cambridge block parties he took me too, and they were very nice, but this guy's got a lot of aggressive attitude that is distinctly unfriendly. Willie and me stand there stunned as another guy turns around, and says to us, "Hi boys, Carl mentioned he had some old friends joining the festivities, come on in." Then, to the first guy, "Chill out, Marvin!" Willie and me exchange glances, then Willie says, "Thanks, um, where's Carl?" The second guy's wearing more convention clothes: jeans and a hoodie, with the name of the college Carl goes to on the front; he ignores the question, saying, "Don't mind Marvin, he's going through a change of life," to which Marvin mumbles, "Fuck you, David," and then goes back to shucking clams, and then dropping them in the smaller pot that's sitting on the grill. I say, "I'm Dylan Newman," and, nodding at Willie, add, "This is Willie Worthington." David holds out his hand, saying, "I'm David Cole, the guy with the lobsters is Shaun Smyth, and Mr. friendly, there in black, is Marvin Carvey; we're all in the LGBT group at college with Carl. Willie and I mumble, "Hi, good to meet ya," and shake hands with David, then with Shaun who says, "Carl's inside getting beers, nice ta meet you," and then he goes back to sticking the pointed end of a big knife in the back of live lobster's heads. I gawk at that, thinking, "Jesus, that's gonna leave a mark!" The guy in black does a personality turn-around by curtsying, saying, "Charmed, I'm sure," as he's extending a lifeless hand for us to touch.

Awkwardness follows as Willie and I fumble for a cigarette only to have curtsey guy do another personality switcheroo, yelling, "Put those disgusting thing out, now!" which we do as Carl comes out with a tray containing four mugs of dark beer. He's very slimmed down and appears to be doing some weight lifting too. Wearing only a T-shirt in this cool air, he yells, "The twinks are here! Hi Willie, and oh my God, Dylan, you're cuter than ever!" Willie and I mutter, "Hi, Carl," and I add, "Nice to see you again... whassup?" Carl always was good looking, but he used to be grossly overweight, and there was a problem with acne when he was in high school; not now though. His hair is longish in sort of a Prince Valient style, which is so dated it makes me wonder what was be thinking with that odd style. He puts the tray down and hugs my shoulders, turning me to face David, "Did I tell ya, David? Choice, or what!?" and then he and David bump fists, with David saying, "Choice alright!" and he does a little insulting pat on my cheek, then nodding at Willie, he adds, "He ain't chopped liver either." I glance at Willie who appears to be trying to grin, like it's all cool. For something to say, I go, "This'll be the first lobster I've ever eaten," and Carl, along with David and Marvin laugh at that, before Carl says, "No, no... you boys aren't here to eat; you're here so I can show-off for these three dudes." I have no idea what he's talking about, and so do a stupid, "Heh heh," then add, "I forgot my guitar," and Willie, catching on to something, says in a bit of a challenging way, "Whaddaya talking about, Carl?" The way he asks that makes me look over at him wondering what's going on. Carl condescendingly says, "Oh, come on, Willie, don't play dumb. Lets keep it friendly and have some fun. Take Dylan upstairs and you two get in position; we'll be up, two-by-two, shortly... now get going." Willie stares defiantly at Carl, then asks, "What did Larry tell you about the last time I saw him?" Carl's acting smug now, very much in charge, like he used to act with me. He uses a fake soothing voice, as if Willie's a bit 'slow', saying, "Larry told me that you were very willing and uber cooperative for him and Dean, and that's exactly what I want you, and pretty boy here ,to do; now you two scat upstairs and get undressed, then lean your chests on my bed, with your cute knees on the floor, and keep your bare-ass boy pussies up in the air. We'll all have some fun... Larry said you loved it like that at his house last month, or whenever it was, and ta da! That's why you're here." Then as Willie and I stand there, Carl says to his three friends, "He," pointing at me, "was my protege for the longest time; he couldn't get enough cock back then, and I'm guessing he hasn't changed much in that regard... and wait'll you see his pussy... sweet!"

Turning to go, I say to Willie, "Let's get outta here before I go nuclear on this bunch of fools." The macho/swisher/curtsey-guy comes charging over, yelling, "Twinks like you do not talk about me like that!" Perhaps it was my choice of the word, "fools". Willie swings his fist at the guy, which results in a glancing blow off the guy's forehead, and all hell breaks loose. Five of us end up in a pile in the grass with Willie the most active, swinging his fist and kicking his feet screaming, "That fuckin' Larry's a fuckin' liar! I did not cooperate with those two assholes..." Someone gets a punch into my belly and I lose my breath, as the other guy, the lobster killer, hovers around the pile trying to bring some sanity into this mess. "What the fuck's wrong with you, Carl? Let them up!" he screams, as he's dragging David off the pile first, and then David joins him in trying to separate Willie, me, Carl and Marvin, who screeching like a banshee, "Who bit me?!" David's yelling at Carl, "Hey, man... you said the boys wanted to do this. Don't ever fucking get me involved in something like this again." Carl stops screaming at Willie long enough to scream at David, "Don't get all high and mighty on me, David! You were all up for an orgy an hour ago, it's why I called these twerps." David comes right back,"Yeah, but you said they liked getting gang fucked..." Carl's sputtering, "Well they did last time," and Willie screams, "We did not!" and I say, "That was three years ago, and we didn't know any better; you took advantage of me!" Carl's face is bright red, he tries grabbing me, saying, "You little liar, it was two years ago, not three," as if that counters the other things I said. Scrambling out of Carl's grasp, then pull Willie up, I'm looking at Carl, muttering, "You're a sick pervert... you need professional help, Denton!". We've all got grass stains on our clothing, but no one's really hurt, and I don't know who bit Marvin; it wasn't me. Carl's standing a foot from Willie now, ignoring me, but screaming in Willie's face again, "You're a disgrace to Sommerville prep and everybody knows it! Thrown off the tennis team for fucking that little kid in the shower, and almost getting expelled... you're a fag loser, Worthington, and you know it too!" Willie's screaming right back at him, spit flying from his mouth, with tears in his eyes, "You're a fucking homo liar! It wasn't in the shower and it was my roommate, not some little kid. I leave the little kids for you, ya piece of human offal!" David's saying, "Jesus, Carl... act your age. This is stupid!" But Carl's apoplectic, maybe because he's being humiliated in front of his friends, and he thought it was Willie and me who'd be humiliated. He obviously didn't expect our reaction, so I gotta wonder what Larry did tell Carl about they're last time Willie was with Larry. Willie's yelling, an inch from Carl's face, "And you're the loser for hangin' with an asshole like your cousin. You're both sick motherfuckers and I hope you both eat a shit sandwich and die!" Carl lunges for Willie and they go down on the ground again, but we separate them quickly this time, with David saying to me, "Perhaps you two lads might wanna take off now, Carl doesn't seem himself this evening," then to Carl, "The fucking cops are gonna be here if you keep this up." I'm pulling Willie by the arm, walking with my back to the four older guys toward the gate, and when the hinges squeak, closing behind us, with Willie and Carl still exchanging screaming insults, my only wish in life is to get in the car and get the hell out of here. It looks like this so-called date of Willie's and mine has reverted back to the bad barbershop level, we're back to: this sucks!

In the car Willie's trembling all over, his hands are shaking so badly he can't get the key thing in the slot, but he keeps pushing the starter anyway, screaming, "Why won't this piece of shit start?" I glance back at the house, grateful that no one's coming after us; then reach over and guide the key thing into the slot and the car starts up. Willie pulls away jerkily and heads aimlessly around the block blubbering something about Carl being full of shit, and assuring me that nothing happened with Larry... nothing like Carl said anyway. I light up a cigarette and guide it to Willie's lips; he takes a big drag and appears to calm down some, mumbling, "Thanks, Dylan," and in a much lower tone of voice, "That Denton is a bullshit liar!" and I'm like, "Drop it, Willie... forget it. Where you going now?" He goes, "How do I know? I'm just driving us away from there, and I'm never talking to that pervert again as long as I live!" I keep my mouth shut hoping he'll do the same. After a minute he asks for the cigarette and then smokes the rest of it in silence, the wind from the open window snatching the exhaled smoke from his mouth and taking it away. Finally, just to say something, I mumble, "Didn't we almost end up as boy-toys at a gay club outside Sea Isle City that last trip we took together?" Willie's like, "Huh? Oh that, ya mean after we went water skiing? Yeah, that was a misunderstanding, but I got us out of it that time too, didn't I?" I go, "Yeah, but that's not the point! Why do we get ourselves in situations like that?" Willie's not interested in this conversation, he again goes, "Huh? Oh, I don't know... it's only happened twice." I'm about to inform Willie that it happening once is too often, and unusual in the extreme, but twice is preposterous... when, just like that a light goes on in my head that there's something I need to remember, and at the same time a light starts blinking on the dash board panel in front of the steering wheel, and I remember, "Willie, we need gas!" He sputters, "Oh shit!" and does a U-turn to head back past Carl's to the gas station I told him about earlier. We don't get a half a block down the street before the flashing blue lights behind us signal the worst thing a teenage driver wants to see... POLICE. If you're talking to the police you got troubles; they're not in this world to help you, no matter what they say. One of the biggest crocks-of-shit ever is the "PROTECT AND SERVE" logo on the side of their cruisers. "Cover our asses, and screw you!" would be more appropriate.

Willie pulls over muttering curse words under his breath as I'm telling him, "Kiss the guy's ass, Willie... put on your obsequies hat... be a polite dork. He waves at me, muttering, "Fuck him..." The windows are already rolled down and the cop does the usual... just sits in his car behind us, with the brilliant flashing blue lights blinding us, as Willie simmers. After five minutes or so the officer slowing emerges, in his black uniform that looks like swat gear, and swaggers up to stand just behind the driver's window, then gives the command, "License and registration!" Willie asks, "What's the problem, office?" and the response comes back, "License and registration, now!" You know, there's no need for tons of attitude, just treat us like human beings, like one of the human species. Okay, Willie shouldn't have made a U-turn, technically, but there wasn't anyone else on the street, except the cop hiding behind a parked moving van. I whisper, "Keep your cool, Willie," and he nods to me, pulling out his wallet and taking out his license; then he makes a career out of going through Martha Windell's glove compartment looking for the registration. And, why is it called a glove compartment, anyway? No one keeps gloves in there. After a bit, Willie clicks on the ceiling light and finally finds the registration. He hands it and his license to the officer, saying, "I know I shouldn't make a U-turn there, and I'm sorry, but we're almost out of gas... you know, the light came on indicating I've got only two miles left in the tank and my friends here says there's a gas station...." but he stops talking because the officer walked away half way through it. Whatever Willie had to say is of no interest to the protect-and-serve cop. "Fuck!" mutters Willie, "He didn't even let me explain..." then he shakes the steering wheel violently again, saying between clutched teeth, "I hate this world!" It takes fifteen more minutes before the cop returns with the traffic ticket, and why would he hurry, he has absolutely nothing else to do; there's no crime in this town to keep him busy so he hassles the citizens instead. In a monotone the officer gives his canned lecture about the importance o obeying the rules of the road, then passing the papers back to Willie, and says, sarcastically, "Have a nice day, William," and returns to his cruiser to arrogantly makes a U-turn right in front of us, and then a second U-turn to returns to his hiding place behind the moving van. Willie disgustedly throws the ticket towards the floor in front of me, but I catch it, and read, "Illegal U-turn on busy street," which is a lie, "$180.00 fine plus one point on your driver's license."

We ride in silence for two more blocks before the car starts bucking, and then rolls to a stop with Willie steering it to the curb, where he puts his head on the steering wheel and sobs... we're out of gas. I pat his back, but can't think of anything to say. I'm thinking to myself, "Except for the, now mostly forgotten, sex this afternoon, this has been an awful day all the way around." And I'm sure it's even worse for Willie because, on top of everything else that's gone wrong, he'll be heartbroken that our date has turned into a date from hell; everything going terribly wrong. After a minute he collects himself, saying, "It's not just today, Dylan, my life's been a living hell for the past few months." I murmur, "I'm so sorry, Willie... but lets put today behind us... we need to check the trunk for a gas can. The service station's only four or five blocks away... we can walk it easily" He nods as we get out of the car, and I glance down because the car seems uneven, and there's a faint hissing sound coming from the engine. It's not the engine though, it's his right front tire going flat. There a large nail sticking out the front of the tire. He ran over it when he pulled over for the cop. The tires almost totally flat now; it was leaking air as we sat here. Willie's got the trunk open, he says, "I can't believe it, but Martha has a gas can in here." "Any gas in it, " I ask, and he mumbles, "Whaddaya think?" and I go, "I'm guessing it's empty... um, is there a spare tire in there too?" Willie goes, "Don't tease me, Dylan... this day is bad enough." Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I quietly say, "Your right front tire's flat," and Willie scrunches his face and holds his breath for almost a minute, before saying, "Tell me you're fucking with me," and I try hugging his shoulders, saying, "I'm sorry to say, I'm not fucking with you, it's flat. When you pulled over for the cop I heard something, guess it was the nail puncturing the tire. I'm really sorry, Willie, but some day this will all be a funny story you'll be telling people... trust me, some day this'll be funny." He just shakes his head, then screams, sort of a primal scream, really loud. Then goes, "Okay, I got that out, and no there's no spare tire."

We get the jack out, along with a tire iron, and fit it under the bumper support to jack the car up; and then take the flat tire off so we can roll it to the gas station. We're walking side by side with me carrying the gas can and Willie rolling the tire down the sidewalk by constantly push the top forward with his hand. Trying to lighten the situation, I say, "There's this friend of mine who's always telling jokes, and one of them sort of fits are terrible day today." Willie's not real interested, he goes, "Uh huh," but I tell him the joke anyway: "Well, this guy's sitting in a bar hunched over a shot glass of whiskey when a scary biker dude comes over next to him, grabs the shot glass and drinks the guy's drink, asking, 'Whatcha going do about it, punk?' The other guy burst into tears, saying, 'This is the worst day of my life. I'm a complete failure and my boss fired me earlier today, calling me a total loser in the process. In the parking lot, with a cardboard box with my belongings from the office, I discover that my car's been stolen and my insurance lapsed last week. Then I left my wallet with my severance pay in the cab I took home. In my house I find my wife with a guy I thought was my friend, and as I'm running out of the house screaming my dog bit me... So, fuck it! I came in here to end it all. I got that shot of whiskey and dropped a poison pill in it, and while waiting for it to dissolve you come in and drink it, so even my suicide's fucked-up too. But, enough about me, how's your day going?" I chuckle to, hopefully, get Willie laughing, but instead he screams, "Shit! I can't believe this is happening to me!" I'm pretty sure he's not referring to the joke, so I look over at him and see him staring at his hand. He looks up with tears in his eyes, again, saying, "Dog shit! I rolled the tire over a big pile of dog shit... it's all in between my fingers and smells disgusting! And the fucking germs!" He kicks the tire over and starts rubbing his hand in the grass that's along the sidewalk. I'm biting my lip because this has passed into never-never, the twi-fuckin'-light zone, and it's slipped into funny land. It takes all my concentration not to laugh out loud.

While Willie grouses under his breath, I try rubbing the shit off the tire, first with a stick, and then in the grass, and manage to get most of it off, but the smell is still gross. Who the hell lets their dog shit on the sidewalk? And for that matter, who the fuck puts nails in the street? Poor Willie. I give him the gas can to carry, and roll the tire myself, avoiding the shit stain most of the rolls, and when we can see the gas station up ahead a mutual sigh of relief can be heard from both of us. Our luck is changing; it's a full service garage. We wash our hands in the restroom, fill the gas can and, with it a safe distance away from us, smoke a cigarette while silently watching a strange looking boy fix the flat tire. This kid is covered in grease, with a dark attitude to match the grime. Not friendly, but a hot ass in his overalls, and ice-blue eyes peering out from a dirty face. Every time he'd turn those eyes on Willie and me we shift ours away from him; he knows we're watching him, and I get the distinct feeling he don't like it. We have to sneak looks though because of his ass, and his body in general, actually. When the tire's fixed, Willie pays and the trip back is less stressful. then it's a struggle getting the tire on properly because we're inapt at this sort of thing, and the nuts do not want to match up with the groves in the screw-things sticking out from the rim, but we get them to eventually. The gas is in the car, and we drive back to the gas station where ice-blue eyes fills the tank, and now we're back in business... on the road again. The night's gotten cold with a light rain so we flip our cigarettes out and roll up the windows. "Nasty out there," mutters Willie, then he says, "We gotta get something to eat, Dylan, but I'm so fucking tired it's not even funny. What a lousy day, and what an understatement that is!" I go, "Ah, it's over now, and tomorrow we'll be eating on the beach with a beautiful view of the ocean, and a nice eighty degree breeze blowing through our flattops." He actually chuckles, then says, "Don't mention our stupid flattops, another bad idea of mine. I swear to God, if you weren't with me today I would have killed myself." Not liking the way he said that, I go, "Don't ever say that, Willie! You've got your whole life ahead of you, and no offense, but a privileged life at that." He mutters, "I know, I know. Where do you want to eat?" I spot the golden arches up ahead, so say, "McDonalds is just fine." He mumbles, "Two fast food restaurants in one day... fuck, I don't eat in two of them in a year."

This time Willie makes sure he's in line first to order and pay. He orders two Big Macs, fries and Cokes. We sit at a clean table this time, and I gobble my Big Mac down... yum! Willie takes about three bites as I'm eating my french fries, then asks, "You want the rest of this, Dylan? I'm too depressed to eat." I take his Big Mac, saying, "Sure," and eat the rest as Willie goes through the day's disasters, one by one, ending with, "Can you believe this shitty day? It's beyond belief!" I mumble, "Yeah, it was weird alright," as Willie plays with his french fries, looking down at the table shaking his head slowly, like he's trying to deny our bad luck today. I say, "It's a new day tomorrow, dude..." He takes a big breath, totally not used to bad luck, I guess. We take our Cokes with us and as we're leaving I see the devil, also known as, Joel Mc Carty, walking up the walk with a skinny kid about seventeen years old. The kid has a head full of straw-colored hair, and he looks younger than my estimate seventeen except for the three or four day growth of scraggily half-a-beard on his semi-cute face. Joel's looking at the kid, talking to him; he's got his hand on the back of the kid's neck and chills run down my spine fearing for this boy. Joel's still walking with a distinct limp and I get a thrill knowing that Chubby did that to him. If I were braver I'd tell the kid to run for his life, but it probably wouldn't do any good anyway. So, what I do instead is get Willie between me and Joel as we pass each other at the door. Joel never looks up, but I hear that voice of his and feel sick to my stomach for a second. Then we're outside with Willie unaware of the dark shadow of near death from my past that just went by me. I shake my head wondering, "Is this a some kind of omen of more bad things to come?"

to be continued....

Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com