Dylans Freshman Year

DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR

Chapter 3

by Donny Mumford

Robby woke-up moaning about a wicked hangover; not a good way to start the day... he really shouldn't drink. Too bad about his condition, but because he insisted we leave Tracy's party early I'm not feeling too bad. We've both slept almost twelve hours... uninterrupted sleep unfortunately. But now, this morning, instead of enjoying a sexual adventure, I'm on an errant for Robby: first to the medicine chest for Tylenol, and then to the refrigerator for orange juice, wearing only my pajama bottoms. Walking down the hall to the kitchen I notice Chubby's bedroom door is closed, which is odd. Oh no, I pray he's alone; the thought of seeing and listening to Samantha this morning gags me. Back in the bedroom with the hangover medicine I help Robby get himself propped-up on both our pillows, then hand him three Tylenol and the bottle of orange juice. He mumbles, "Thanks," pops the pills in his mouth, and gulps down half a quart of OJ right from the bottle in four long swigs. Robby's got the cutest mouth and when he swallows his barely visible adams apple jitters up and down in his throat. I ruffle his hair and take the bottle from him, then bop back to the kitchen to chug a few mouthfuls of juice myself before returning the mostly empty bottle to the refrigerator... why dirty a glass, ya know. Back in the bedroom Robby weakly says, "Thanks again, Dylan; can ya come back to bed now, and hug me?" He's back to laying flat on the mattress, using only his own pillow. I gotta admit he's looking pale and pathetic; it is surprising though that he has enough energy to play-up this hangover as much as he's doing. He moans and sighs, then looks pleadingly at me with puppy dog eyes, and I almost burst out laughing 'cause I've seen this act before... that boy can be such a baby when he's not feeling well. Maybe his mother treated him like a baby when he had tummy aches as a little boy, ha ha. It was a little different for me; hell, Chubby and me had to take care of ourselves, sick or not, and we're a lot tougher because of it. Trying not to laugh at Robby's bid for pity, I get in bed and rustle around till I'm under the covers next to him; then, wrapping him in my arms I hope something sexy will develop... 'cause so far it sure hasn't. Well, to be accurate I do have another boner, so I guess that's a development. Damn, Robby's gone back to sleep, but hey, it's kinda fun nursing my boyfriend, even if he is a big baby.

Looks-wise, it doesn't matter that Robby has a hangover, or the flu, or sunburn, or whatever; even when he's pale and pathetic like now, he still looks awesomely cute, handsome, beautiful... all of the above. I stare at him as he sleeps and feel lucky, very lucky to be his boyfriend. His face is a thing of beauty, especially when totally relaxed as he sleeps. His blue eyes are closed, but dark curved eyelashes contrast awesomely with his peaches and cream complexion, and he's has the most perfectly formed nose I've ever seen. His hot lips and cute chin all combine to form a face to remember. And what a great slim body he has too so I slide my hand over his back, and down further to lightly squeeze his ass, nice firm buttocks. Lifting my head to rest my cheek against his I smell his blond hair... it smells just like the rest of him, very sexy and pleasant. The individual scents I notice from certain boys is extremely subtle and I'm sure most wouldn't be able to differentiate one from the other, but for some reason I was born with a gene that detects them and rates them and Robby's scent is very high on the list. Some boys have no discernible scent that I can pick-up but maybe others can. Inhaling another nose-full of Robby's personal odor as I'm pulling my pajama leg up past my knee, I then rub my bare leg against Robby's nearly hairless, long leg... great skin. Then, reaching under the covers I feel around until I've got the crotch of his jockey shorts in my hand cupping his smallish penis and large full nuts, squeezing them ever so lightly. Grinning to myself thinking of the yelp he'd let out if I really squeezed hard; not that I'd ever actually do that. My hand works it's way inside the pee-pee slit of his underwear to feel his bare-skin private parts. A quiet gasp slips from my lips as I lightly massage his balls and then rub his penis against his pubic patch. Strangely, this makes me think of Chubby and what he said last night about missing me and wanting us to do stuff together. He'd said to me, "Anything you want to do.." then changed it to, "Anything within reason" and he called me , "gay boy". Actually, I want to do some of our old-time gay stuff; stuff we did when we were younger, like shaving our legs and pubes because it's so intimate, and because it often led to us jerking off, or even better, jerking each other off. I want to do that kind of stuff with Chubby again... at least one last time... and I want him to fuck me again too, although Robby's put that off limits for now. Robby won't let me have a boyfriend-on-the-side like we used to have, so I'll try substituting Chubby for part of that role, if he'll go along with me, which is by no means a given...

Oh my, this is nice laying against Robby, looking at his incredible face, and thinking about Chubby. I get a tear in my eye because they're both so important to me, but in different ways I guess I'd have to say. As always, Chubby's the number-one person in my life, and I think he always will be, but Robby's such a great boyfriend... oh man, now I've got myself a really rock-hard boner that I want to stroke so badly. It'd be awesome to stroke the foreskin on and off the sensitive head of my boner a few times... oooh man, that would feel so good, but I resist the urge because what if Robby recovers from his hangover and fucks me later? One of my all-time favorite things is having big orgasms that Robby's fucks out of me without me touching myself; that's truly an awesome feeling! "Don't, Dylan... I feel sick," Robby weakly mumbles. "Huh?" I go, then realize I'm stroking his cock. "Oh, heh heh, sorry, Robby," as I pull my hand out of his underwear. Robby snuggles in closer to me and dozes off again. Hmmm, he doesn't appear to be recovering. But still, it's so sexy laying against him like this I'd like to take it further, but don't dare; I know damn well if I stroke my throbbing boner even once, I won't be able to stop. No, I'll save my orgasm for when we do it together, if not now, then later today. Pulling my arm from under the sheet I hug him tightly with both arms for a few seconds. Mmmmm, he feels so nice against my bare chest. I can't stop myself from going back to the topic of his personal scent; his boy should bottle his personal odor and sell it to those poor bastards with no odor or, god forbid, offensive body odor. Come to think of it, my ex-boyfriend smelled real sexy too, although in a totally different way than Robby. I've been thinking about Willie lately, and fuck if I didn't almost agree to meet him a week ago. He won't let up his effort to get us back together, and I guess I'm sorta glad he misses me so much, but I also know Willie hates to lose, and me dropping him must'a hurt his self-image something terrible... poor boy. But I gotta wonder how much of his desire to get us back together is to improve that self-image of his, and how much of it's because he still loves me, like he claims? Anyway, it been just about six months since our last date, and he still wants me back... that's sweet. Well, I did send that nice note telling him how much I appreciated our time together, and blah, blah, blah... all real positive stuff. Also told him I had truly loved him, but that we'd grown apart, or something like that... and then I returned all his presents. So it wasn't an acrimonious break-up, and it did impress him that I returned his gifts... hell, at first I thought he took the break-up too well.

Yeah, Willie was cool with it at first which surprised the hell out of me, as I said, but it kinda hurt me a little too; ya know, to realize how easily he replaced me with Andy. Of course, initially I'd neglected to consider the fact that Willie's a bit of an egomaniac and, to save face, he'd been pretending he wasn't all that concerned about me dumping him. And, there's also the part where he assumed I'd come to my senses and come crawling back to him, and I might have if I didn't have Robby to love and, you know, have sex with. Fact is, I'm kinda preoccupied with gay sex, and boys in general. Being in love with a cute boy can sometimes engross my mind to the exclusion of any other thought and, yeah, it has occurred to me that that may be an unhealthy state of mind. I ultimately reject that concern, however, because I do have other interest and other things on my mind, once in awhile. I like music and sports and my mom and our car, and I'd like a pet too, if we had one. So, no... I'm good! I've a more or less healthy obsession with being gay, that's all it is. I certainly don't believe I'm obsessed to an unreasonable degree, ya know, for the reasons I just said... plus college too, fer chrissakes, ya can't forget that... college is huge! So, I agree it wouldn't be a good thing to be fixated on being gay, and having gay sex to the exclusion of other aspects of my life... that would be like immature and even pathological, which isn't the case with me. By the way, prior to last week's class, "The Psychology Of Sex" I'd have been unable to even articulate that last premise, but now I can... so it's not like I'm talking out of my ass here, I sorta know what I'm talking about. Of course, there's always that dumb-ass premise about "a little knowledge being a dangerous thing" so it's not like everything is caste in stone. Hey, I'm willing to reevaluate my views as my life goes on, but right now I'm nineteen years old and I'm firmly believing nineteen is too young to go exclusively steady with one boy. The trick is to bring this up to Robby at the right time, and in the right way so I don't fuck up this awesome boyfriend experience we're having together... that's gotta come first, it's the most important thing.

All this self analysis has lessened the hardness of my boner considerably so I press it against the side of Robby's buttocks and then do tiny little humps against his jockey shorts, which surprisingly gets a chuckle from Robby, then, "Oh, have mercy,Dylan," then more chuckling, and, "You never get enough, do ya? I'm usually glad about that too, but not now, okay?" Ewwww, that's embarrassing! I didn't expect to wake him with my horny little game. Without responding to his comments, I rustle around some more until I've got him in another really good hug where we're touching from head to toe; his face pressed against mine so I can kiss him here and there. I feel him smile against my cheek, then mumble, "That's sweet," as he nestles in against me, quietly adding, "This is so nice, just you and me" and he shortly falls back to sleep. Feeling a headache coming on, I drop further efforts at analysis and enjoy Robby's scent and the feel of him... then, some where along the way I fall back to sleep myself.

First thing I think of when I wake-up is how nice my boner feels, then I get a grip and consider our shift at Stop & Shop today, which should be of top priority... then, second on the list is our homework assignments later tonight. The shift begins at noon and runs till closing-time, which is seven o'clock. So, when we're finally both up and at 'em we need to hustle, and still it's almost eleven o'clock before I've got our breakfast going. Chubby's up and feeling okay too, and he's mercifully san Sam. Robby and me, with the extra sleep, are feeling okay ourselves, so it's just a matter of us getting a move on. It's rare that all three of us roommates are on the same shift, but that's what's up today. I've taken my shower and now I'm in the kitchen making sandwiches of fried eggs, Canadian bacon, and American cheese on Thomas's English muffins; that'll be our brunch. I've also cut the fruit from half a cantaloupe and half a honeydew melon, along with a package of fresh strawberries; fresh from Chile, that is. I'm tossing these three fruits together in a bowl, chuckling to myself at the mention of three 'fruits' being tossed together. I'd like to be tossed together with Chubby and Robby... ha ha.

Robby's in the master bedroom's shower while Chubby's using the hall shower; I'm betting with myself that Chubby finishes first. Sure enough, he comes out with a towel around his waist, looking clean and bright eyed, and very cute.

It's such a blessing to share an apartment with these two boys, both delicious to look at. My life's never dull because the view of Chubby and Robby is fantastically available to brighten every day. I go, "Morning, Chubby, bro! I fixed some brunch for us, ya want some?" Chubby comes over and squeezes my hand, saying, "Of course I want some if you prepared it," and he kisses my cheek. It's okay in Chubby's mind that he kiss my cheek, but when I kiss his sometimes he gets pissed-off... go figure. But hey, the unusual things Chubby and I do together, or used to do together, like the occasionally kiss, or shaving our pubes, or jerking each other off... all those things would be considered gay activities for almost every other boy on the planet, but not us.

Chubby's rationalized a reason allowing us to do these things with impunity: to wit, we're special because we have the most unusual and special friendship ever. The reason for that is what I alluded to some time ago; our life-long closeness. We were born a couple days apart to moms who have been best friends all their lives, and now Chubby and me are like that too. As babies we were bathed together; we slept in the same bassinet until moving into a toddler bed together and then, at about eight years old, we began taking care of each other, just the two of us. As I mentioned before, that was necessary to allow our moms to work. Chubby and me have been looking out for each other ever since. My eyes get misty thinking about Chubby and me, and now there he stands adjusting the towel around his waist, and asking, "Um... Dylan, could you... um... you know, check my foot for me?" I go, "What for?" As he sits on the ottoman, stretching his legs out in front of him, knowing I'll accommodate his request. He looks up innocently, and mumbles, "Ah? Oh, I think there's a splinter." Kneeling down on the floor I pick up a foot and look at it closely, pretending to check for a splinter... a splinter that I know is nonexistent. This is another of those 'unusual' things I referred to a minute ago. Chubby has a foot fetish, not an obsessive foot fetish, more like a casual one that he needs scratched once in a while. Trouble is, it's not easy finding a foot fetish buddy, so Chubby comes to me 'cause we trust each other with everything, no matter how personal or embarrassing. Well, there were two exceptions to the "trusting thing" that we've since corrected, so we're good. I don't have a foot fetish, but I may have a Chubby fetish, so it's almost the same thing.

Anything involving Chubby, count me in.

I use both hands to massage his foot for a few second with Chubby grunting quietly, then he looks over at Robby's and my bedroom door and I assume he's wondering when Robby will pop out. Chubby mutters, "Ah, can you check for the splinter in my bedroom, the light's better in there..." I go, "Yeah, good idea," and we wander into his bedroom where he sits on the bed in front of me as I kneel down and then sit back on my ankles looking up at him with love in my heart. I feel a little bad that Chubby's kinda uncomfortable with this, but I know he can't help himself sometimes; the urgings get too strong. I can also see that the towel around his waist is so short his dick is almost visible, a dick by the way that's about the same size as Robby's. I've got the big cock in our crowd. Anyway, I'm rubbing Chubby's foot, then up his calf a little, with him taking deep breaths, then he puts his other foot on top of my chopped-up hair, then on my face, and while I'm holding his one foot I begin licking the toes of the other. Chubby lays back on the bed moaning quietly at that. Then he pulls the towel away and begins jerking himself off; so much for him feeling uncomfortable. And, see what I mean about the gay stuff we do together? Anyway, without even having a foot fetish, it's still sexy hot for me!! I rearrange myself so I'm sitting on the floor now, my feet out in front of me; kicking off my flip flop and, while I've got the toes of one of his feet in my mouth, I hold his other foot against my bare foot and wiggle my toes against his and then insinuate my toes in between his. It's a sexual thing for Chubby too, this foot fetish stuff, and it gets him grunting and humping his hips up off the bed stroking his four inch boner to beat the band. His face gets red, his eyes squeeze closed as I'm doing little kitty-like licks up and down the bottom of his clean, just-washed foot... he does another big flop up off the mattress, but this time he's grunting with the effort of shooting a three foot string of spunk straight up in the air, his pee slit's lips quivering. When the stream of cum reaches it's pinnacle, it hesitates for a fraction of a second, and then drops straight down to "Splat!" on Chubby's stomach as another shorter string of cum flies up, then another even shorter one. Chubby's doing loud breathing, muttering "Fuck!" with each shot of spunk and pulling on his pecker for all he's worth. When he's stroked up the last of the spunk from his balls, he uses a finger to rub it in little circles on his stomach doing quiet moaning in between deep breaths as I continue slowly playing with his feet. Getting himself under control he sits up with a slight flush on his face and a look in his eyes like he's embarrassed, but just the same, he asks, "Did ya find the splinter?" I say, "Sure, ya feel better?" and he's like, "Um, of course, thanks!" He's off the bed, lazily rubbing my hair as he goes by, relaxed now, and feeling relief. "Do ya want me to fix your haircut disaster before we go to work, or after?" he wants to know. I'm standing, as I mutter, "Could ya do it when Robby's here so he can learn how?" Chubby's wiping the cum off himself with the towel he'd had around his waist, his now flaccid four inch penis bobbing between his wonderful legs as he says, "Oh sure, I'll try to teach him how to do it, but um... would you get me a wet washcloth, Dylan? I don't want Robby to see me his barber instructor with a cum splattered belly, ya know?" I do that as I'm thinking how good I feel about being here to help Chub with his fetish, something no one else he knows would be able to do. Then I'm back to the kitchen to finish preparing the brunch. Frankly I'm a little disappointed Chubby didn't even bother to rationalize our bizarre five minute foot fetish experience like he usually does. Hmmm, maybe it's because he knows for sure I'm gay now, where he used to just assume I was. No matter, I know he's grateful to me for helping him.

The three of us eat our sandwiches and fruit, then I drive us in the Jeep to the North Andover Stop and Shop, which is less than a mile from our apartment. Chubby and I were hired last September when there were a lot of openings. The openings occur every year when most of the current summer part-time help go back to school; either to a high school or a college that's located too far from the store to make working there feasible. The pay's not great, but what there is of it is definitely needed; and, what the hell, this isn't a heavy lifting or hard thinking job... you can almost do it without trying. Last month a high school kid quit and the man who's in charge of the part-timers told us about the opening... I right away sent Robby a text about it 'cause he'd decided he could use some extra spending money. He drove his pick-up right over to the store and applied within ten minutes of me hearing about the opening, and was hired on the spot. Sometimes things like 'getting hired on the spot' happen to Robby because he's so good looking. Don't think I'm just making that up; a study was done that concluded good-looking male and female applicants have an advantage getting hired for jobs over the average looking dude. I'm not complaining 'cause I'm pretty good looking myself, but I imagine the homely-looking guys are pissed-off about it.

Anyway, Stop and Shop is a big grocery store employing over thirty part-timers. My old job at the Framingham Stop and Shop consisted mostly of high school boys as part-timers, but here they consist mostly of housewives and some retired men, who I guess need a little extra income to supplement their social security checks. Part-timers work the cash registers, stock shelves, collect shopping carts from the parking lot, and bag groceries. Needless to say, I prefer the Framingham Stop & Shop 'cause some of those boys were hot, and none of the housewives or retirees here are even at the luke warm stage; actually not even remotely close to luke warm! Another reason Robby was hired on the spot is they were looking for a male replacement, probably because the housewives aren't assigned parking lot duty and neither are the retirees. Chubby and me and the kid who quit are often out in the parking lot, and with all the snow and cold weather it sucks out there. Today my supervisor, a twenty-one year old high school drop-out named Alan Snyder, and I are unloading cartons of peanut butter and jellies to inventory while Robby and one of the retirees stock the shelves. My main homeboy, Chubby, is in the parking lot collecting shopping carts. I say Alan and me are unloading, but it's more like he's doing the inventory notations and I'm humping the boxes down from storage and unloading them, then lining the contents on a flat bed push cart for the guys out on the floor to stock on shelves. Alan isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, and is he isn't Mr. Personality either, but so what... he's sexy as hell and as far as I can tell he doesn't even know it. He started out as a part time employee five years ago when he was a junior in high school, flunked out of school before Christmas that year and has continued with Stop & Shop ever since. In all that time working here he's worked his way up to be one step higher in the pecking order than me.

Like I said, the work here's not particularly hard, but Alan's a bit of a taskmaster so the boxes are getting unloaded quickly and I'm beginning to sweat, and while I'm doing that I'm also doing some ogling of my supervisor. Sexy eyes and mouth, awesome ass and best of all, he's always playing with himself. From the size of his crotch bulge I'm thinking this boy is hung big time too! Sadly, he's either too dense to pick up on my suggestive comments or he's totally straight, which is probably the case since they claim ninety percent of boys are suffering that malady. Right now he's got his hand in his pocket scratching his nuts, the tip of his pink tongue visible between his lips as he concentrates on the ecstasy of his balls scratching. I can just imagine those hairy, low hanging nuts all stinky and moist in his tight fitting jockey shorts. I say 'hairy nuts' because Alan has extremely hairy legs so why not hairy nuts too. His pants are too short so when he's sitting, which Alan does a lot of, he crosses his legs and half his hairy calf is exposed. When he's not groping himself he'll rub back and forth on his exposed hairy leg and for some reason that gives me a stiffy. Normally I don't care for hair anywhere except on the head, but there's something about Alan that makes all the hairy parts of him okay. It's dark hair, like the hair on his head, which is in a short buzz cut today. He'll go at least ten weeks between haircuts and when it grows out it's great hair, thick without being coarse, slightly wavy; he really should wear it longer 'cause he'd be kinda nice looking, as well as sexy, with longer hair. As it is he wears glasses and, with the buzzed head, it's kind of a sexy oddball look. Another deficiency in his appearance, from my point of view, is his heavy beard that he shaves only about every ten days... thick, curly, soft-looking whiskers, like the hairs on his legs, and I'm guessing around his balls and up on his belly too. That's the kind of stuff that normally turns me off, but Alan's the exception and I don't know why.

Another odd thing about Alan is his baby face... I mean, it's odd to be baby-faced with all the whiskers and hairy legs and all. It's not a really cute baby face, but rather an extremely youthful complexion and his usually confused facial expression creates the baby-face effect, but only on the rare days he's clean shaven. There's almost always an expression on his face like something mysterious, but exciting has just happened although, believe me, he couldn't tell you what it was if you put a gun to his head. Alan usually chooses me to assist him and I think it's because, to entertain myself, I brown-nose him outrageously; it's a parody of respect, but he doesn't get it. He's clueless and accepts my brown-nosing as his due, and bosses me like I'm the dumb-ass one between us. It's harmless fun for me and helps make the shift fly by. My fantasies of Alan fucking me, his warm hairy body encasing me in soft fur, have gotten me through many a parking lot shift... I end-up pushing shopping carts through the snow with a boner in my pants. Oh, did I mention his ruby red lips? Awesome bow-shaped, pouty lips, usually surrounded by his dark, thick and curly whiskers... oh my God, the fantasy of him ordering me around and dominating my ass in bed is so hot!. Ha ha ha, not that it'll ever happen, but it's a rush to think about. He's exactly my height but wider, not fat, just stocky so he could physically dominate me if he chose to. He's good to look at in a bizarre way, but he's not what you'd call a friendly dude at all.

It's all business with Alan. "Newman, why'd ya stopped unloading? Get your ass moving!" Oh boy, my dick twitched with that one. That's a perfect example of his management technique, I humbly ask, "Ummm... ah, Mr. Snyder," I always call him that, and he's never told me to call him 'Alan' like everyone else does... hee hee. I ask, "Mr. Snyder, may I take a bathroom break, please?" I'm always overdoing it, but he's clueless, like I said. He replies in a gruff manner, "No, your gonna have to wait till your regular break to take care of that... and why are you always needing to go to the bathroom, anyway?" I use my box cutter to cut around the top of a cardboard carton, saying, "Ah, I don't know?" He goes, "Never mind, just get back to work or I'll report you to Rolly." Keeping a straight face, I say, "Yes, Mr. Snyder." Ha ha, can you believe it? I don't need to take a piss anyway, just having fun seeing if one time, just one time, he'll say "Yes, Dylan... sure, that's cool, go ahead."

So, work was okay today, good for a couple of chuckles but it has used up a precious day off from classes. Oh well, we squandered all of yesterday drinking beer so now Robby and I will need to burn the midnight oil catching up on our assignments, called 'homework' in high school. Of course, we've had all week to do the assignment but we put it off so now we're out of time... life sucks! First though, a pizza dinner... then the haircut situation, and finally we'll be able to get started on the homework. That's the plan anyway; so, after work the three of us, Chubby, Robby, and me, stop off at 'Captain's Pizza' and share two large pizzas, consuming them right there in the shop... mushrooms on one and extra cheese on the other. As I'm finishing my first slice Connor sends me a text message saying he can't get to my place until nine tonight; is that OK? I text him that it is and mention this to my homeboys as I'm taking a slice of mushroom pizza. Robby nods his head, and says, "Yeah, I guess it's okay, but why can't he just go to the barbers? We need to do that report, ya know." Pizza is best when eaten directly out of the oven 'cause the crust is crisp then. Take-out pizza gets soggy in the box on the way home; the heat from the pizza gets trapped in the box and steams the crust soggy. Not wanting to get into an argument with Robby I shrug at his remarks, and Chubby asks, "You want me to do something with this totally fucked-up haircut Robby gave you, right bro?" and Robby's, "Hey! I did my best, and he wanted me to give him the haircut, right Dylan?" Wrong, Robby's the one who insisted on it, but I go, "Yeah, sure... but you're not as experienced as Chubby so how 'bout watching him do some trimming-up and you can pick-up some tips." Big burp from Robby, and naturally we all laugh cause we're goofs, then Robby goes, "Sure, I'll watch but you already said you want me to cut it next time too, right?" Robby's getting more and more possessive of me... like questioning why Connor needs to come over for a haircut, or not wanting Chubby to give me haircuts, and he's always checking up that I'm not flirting with anyone... stuff like that. I kinda like it, it sorta fits with me liking to be submissive during sexual moments, although sometimes away from sexual situations it can be a pain-in-the-ass. I lie, "Sure, I want you to give me my next haircut, dude..." Robby's cell phone goes off so he answers that and the subject of haircuts mercifully gets dropped. It's Robby's brother on the phone. Robby and Dodger are very tight, not like a lot of brothers who are into sibling rivalry... no wait, Robby and Dodger have that, but they're awesomely tight as well. The brothers talk a little bit, Robby laughing at something that his hot-shit brother says, then passes the phone around so we can all share insults with that little demon. Dodger tells me, "Robby says you're coming home for a visit next Sunday in which case you and me, dude, are getting it on!" I chuckle, then say, in a voice like I'm a little kid, "I don't think Robby will let me..." and we both laugh, then kabitz a little more before I pass the cell phone to Chubby, who starts off asking, "How ya doing ya little pervert..." and it's fun again being us.

Finished our dinner, we're stuffed with pizza and feeling satisfied as we walk through the front door of the apartment. First thing I do is get the barber tools out and take off my shirt. I then hop right up on the barber bar stool that's been moved to the tile floor area, and Chubby gets right into it. He begins cutting my hair with clippers over comb doing his best to salvage the mess Robby created. While doing that he's giving haircut lessons to an attentive Robby at the same time. I say attentive because Robby likes to be good at everything he does so he's really paying close attention and, at the same time, acting like the instructions aren't necessary... it's funny to observe how he does that. He thinks he's being so blase, but I see right through him and it kinda makes him human; I mean, he does so many thing right it's nice to see him struggling with something... I love him to death! Reaching my hand out to him, Robby takes it and holds it in his hand as he observes Chubby's haircutting skills; very affectionate moment for Robby and me until Chubby goes, "Please, not in front of me you two homos!" He of course knows Robby and I are gay boyfriends; I told him so myself, and I'm glad he feels comfortable enough to say things like that to us because it shows he really doesn't care that we're gay. I'm not going to go into Chubby's sexuality again, but it might just have something to do with his easy acceptance of my sexuality. Chubby shows Robby various haircutting techniques, ones that I taught him years ago, and then let's Robby tries it himself. Almost immediately I hear, "Oops! No, that's my bad," from Robby. I say nothing as Chubby quietly giggles, then says, "Oops, indeed..." It takes about ten minutes to finish, and by then my hair's real short.

Chubby had to cut it shorts to evens out all the 'Oops", but it's more professional-looking now. Not as short as a buzz-cut... more like a burr haircut, which is short on the sides, but longer on the top, longer than the traditional buzz cut anyway. Now that Robby sees how short Chubby had to cut my hair he's acting sincerely sorry about his screw-ups, saying over and over how bad he feels about it, while at the same time I'm trying to reassure him that it's fine, "I'm good, Robby... no problem, dude." Robby's like, "Well thanks for being such a good sport about it, Dylan, and now I've learned some new ways of cutting hair so next time I'll do much better." I roll my eyes at Chubby and he squeezes my hand, shaking his head a little with a rye grin on his face, like, 'Why would you ever let him cut your hair again?' I make a face back at him with a tiny shake of my head, like, "Please, don't say anything!" Smiling now with another squeeze of my hand, and holding onto it himself for a second this time, Chubby asks, "Anything else I can do for ya, Dylan?" I mumble, "Thanks, bro. No, I'm good," and he says, "I've got to write that damn report on, 'People's Worst Fear: Public Speaking'... can't wait to dig into that topic." He's kidding of course, I go, "Good luck, sounds like fun."

As I'm putting the barber tools away Robby's acting moody, which I assume is because he's still upset about fucking-up my haircut. He's walking towards our bedroom mumbling over his shoulder, "If you're good with it, Dylan I'll get started on the assignment." I call after him, "We're gonna cheat on this assignment, right... each of us will write half of it, then fuck around with it enough so it seems like separate papers, right?" Robby's stops, seemingly preoccupied, he says, "Huh? Oh, yeah, we're cheating, of course; we need to now since we don't have time for both of us to do separate papers. But, um... remember what we said last night?" I go, "What's that..." He keeps it low enough so Chubby can't hear, "You know, no flirting with Connor, and stuff like that." Huh! I thought he was down in the dumps because he fucked-up my hair when all the time he's just worried about Connor and me being together tonight. Oh well, like I said before, I kinda like it that Robby's like this; it's sorta flattering. He needs reassurance though, so I'm a good guy about it and act submissive, saying, "I remember what you told me Robby, I'm good with it. You laid down the law and I'll respect that, we're good!" He nods his head, not sure if I'm teasing him, so I maintain a serious expression, and mutter, "Okay?" Feeling more in charge now, Robby says, "Just remember what I said! That's all," and he walks towards our bedroom. Jeez, that was fun... putting on Alan at work, and now Robby. Robby's so cool though! Believe me, I'm teasing him in a loving way, not like I do it with douche-bag Alan. Fact is I'm really in love with Robby, but we still gotta talk sometime soon. We need to be on a little longer leash in our relationship, for both of our sakes.

Connor doesn't have a car, and neither does his roommate, or any freshman living in the dorms for that matter; it's not permitted. He'll walk the quarter mile down here and then I'll give him a quick lift back to the dorm in the Jeep after his haircut. Looking out the window and not seeing him, I slide open the glass door leading to the balcony and step out for a quick cigarette while thinking about Robby and wondering how much of our role playing he takes as 'role playing' and how much he's convinced himself is real. Willie thought about ninety percent of it was real... well, ninety to a hundred. I chuckle to myself about that, and then wonder why I get aroused from being sexually dominated. I mean, sexually dominated while I'm part of a friendly or loving relationship; certainly not the kind of domination that that fucking animal Joel tried to do to me. But then, wait... the marine in Parker's Park, Tom whats-his-name, he certainly wasn't much of a friend, so why did he get me aroused? Oh, who knows... so much stuff is locked up in our subconscious minds it's incomprehensible. Then the doorbell sounds breaking my train of thought so I flick my cigarette butt into the night and hurry inside. I answer the door and there stands Connor looking like he's trying not to smile, but as I smirk at him a big smile breaks out on his cute face anyway; obviously he's happy to be here. I go, "Dude!' and we do the handshake, hug, and pat-on-the-back, but Connor has more for me; he holds onto me and kisses me on the lips, then gets red-faced. "Oh man!" he says, "I'm sorry, I didn't know I was gonna to do that." Not wanting to seem like an asshole, I go, "No problem, how ya doing?" He comes in muttering, "I'm good..." as I help him get out of his winter gear, asking, "What happened to you yesterday at Tracy's party? You left to take a pee and we never saw you again." He blushes once more, and says, "It's weird, but I felt sick from drinking too much beer so I'm hangin' in the small bathroom off the foyer for a while checking if I'm gonna hurl or not. Then some dude comes right in, says excuse me, and drops his pants to do the grossest smelling crap in history... right in front of me. That, plus my sickish stomach did it... I threw-up in the sink getting vomit splatters on my shirt and some on my pants." I quietly go, "Ewwww," as he continues, "The kid who dropped his load right in front of me wipes his ass, saying, "You're disgusting!" to me, if you can believe that! Then the kid points a finger at me while pulling up his fly, and says, The least you can do is clean that up so others can use this bathroom." As Robby's telling me this, I'm frowning, like, "no way" 'cause I can't believe it. All I can think to ask is, "What a dink that shitbird is, who was it anyway?" Connor shrugs, and says, "I don't know, but I was too humiliated after that to walk through the crowds in the house to say 'goodbye' to you guys so I slipped out the first door I came to." I'm brushing off the stool, asking, "Did ya clean up the bathroom?" He goes, "Of course, the best I could but forget my vomit, all anyone's gonna smell in that bathroom for the next six months is that guy's shit... gross!"

I'm ready to burst out laughing, but Robby appears to still be embarrassed about it all, so I say, "Jeez, that's sucks Connor, but ya don't need to be embarrassed about it, we've all thrown up from too much booze. It's the asshole who took a crap right in front of you who needs to be embarrassed." He goes, "Yeah, I guess," and sits on the stool. I ask, "Hey man, ya wanna take your shirt off for the haircut, or do you want me to use the barber cape?" He goes, "Can you use the cape this time, it's chilly in here?" Damn! I wanted to cut his hair with him bare chested, but I go, "Absolutely!" and get the cape out of the satchel as he's silently staring at my haircut. Finally he asked, "How come you got that short burr haircut in the middle of winter?" As I'm draping the barber's cape over him I tell him a short version of my sad haircut story. When I finish with it, Connor says he wants a haircut like the one I gave Robby; fairly short, but long enough so all the hairs lay down, the hairs on top are combed towards the front, and the bangs are flipped up. It's a preppy boy's haircut, more suited for middle school, but I don't care 'cause these two look cute with that hair style, and so that's the style Connor gets. There's a disappointing aspect to him choosing that style though, not that it's a big deal, but I thought he'd ask for a haircut like mine as he's done in the past. I thought that's why he'd asked about my short haircut, but instead he goes for the Robby look; ya know, that's all good, no big deal... kinda weird though. Cutting hair has always come naturally to me, from the very first time it seemed obvious how to do it. Chubby learned from me; he isn't a natural at it like me, and therefore not as good as I am, but he's good. It's just that some people, including too many barbers, particularly those at Super Cuts, aren't naturals at cutting hair and no matter the amount of training given them, or the experience they accumulate, they still suck 'cause they don't have an aptitude for it. They'd make better truck drivers, or dental hygienist, or whatever; many of them should be doing anything except barbering. Anyway, Connor really likes his new haircut and is relieved to finally lose all that long hair which was a pain in the ass to keep clean, and impossible to keep neat. His body feels good so I sneak in a few extra shoulder hugs and back-of-the-neck squeezes... he lays back against me while I'm doing it, but we're good boys tonight and don't do anything outrageous, especially with Chubby in one bedroom and Robby in the other. I don't even flirt very much 'cause I'm really trying to be a good boyfriend for Robby. I'm trying hard to be true to him 'cause I love being his boyfriend, but at the same time I'd like to, just once in a little while, and certainly without overdoing it, only occasionally have some buddy sex... for the fun of it. Robby used to do it with Chad, and maybe others for all I know. And I haven't even mentioned that hot three-way Robby had with Dodger and Vinnie; the one I saw through their garage window last summer. I don't bring it up 'cause it'd be like throwing it in his face, and I'd never do that.

After the haircut I'm driving Connor back to his dorm and he's being too quiet, so for something to say, I ask, "Have you seen Gary lately?" Connor tells me about an experience at Berklee College of Music that he and Josh attended one night last week. The show was mostly a gig in which Gary played the piano for a ad hoc rock group. Gary was the lead for the group, he played the piano and was lead singer doing a number of songs but the one that brought the house down was a hot nineteen-fifties rock song titled, 'Great Balls Of Fire'. Guys at Berklee who are studying the history of rock 'n roll raved about the authenticity of Gary's performance; they claimed Gary was like Jerry Lee Lewis all over again. From what I gather, this Lewis character played the piano too.

I wish I knew about the concert 'cause I'd like to have seen Gary playing rock and roll. I'll bet his mother would have a shit fit if she knew; she wants him doing classical music exclusively. Wait a second, if I remember correctly, there was a movie out about ten years ago about that guy Jerry Lee Lewis, but since I never heard of him at the time, I didn't see the movie. I at first thought it was that man with the huge head who does a telethon on Labor Day each year, but it's not. Anyway, I ask Connor, "Not to pry or anything, but does Gary ever try to, you know... get in your pants?" Connor's laughing at that, then goes, "Only ever time I see him," and then adds on a serious note, "He thinks it shows friendship, but for me it's got to be with the right person, someone special, and while Gary's the most talented person I've ever known, and I really like him personally, he doesn't do a think for me sexually." I'm thinking to myself, "Well, yeah... Gary isn't someone I'd probably have chosen either, but he fucked me really good, and I enjoyed it! I guess Connor isn't as big a fan of casual boy-on-boy sex as me. He's strictly a romantic maybe."

Anyway, I just give a neutral grunt as my response, and leave it at that. Truth is I'm not smart enough or experienced enough to know what to make of the different approach to sex Connor and I have... it's one of about a million unanswered questions hidden in that mysterious box-in-a-box-in-a-box etc. called sex.

After pulling right up onto the packed snow in front of his dorm's front door, so close that if it weren't covered in a foot of snow I'd be on the sidewalk, Connor gets out, saying, "Thanks a lot, Dylan... I love the haircut. And, um... I'm not saying this to put any pressure on you... really I'm not, but to finish that thing about Gary: so far you're the only boy I've met that I want to mess around with sexually. Isn't that odd?" Well, to me it is odd, but for all I know he's the normal one and I'm the odd one. I go, "I don't know if it's odd or not, Connor... I really don't, but I'm uber flattered." He smiles noncommittally. I add, "But there is some pressure involved when you say I'm the only guy you're interested in because mostly I worry about you; you need and deserve your own boyfriend. As soon as you find him you'll forget about me." Another million dollar smile from Connor, followed by a mumbled, "I doubt it..." a wave goodbye and then he's inside the building. Flattering for sure, but he's still wrong; when he gets himself a boyfriend he'll find out.

Connor's such a likable guy, and I think he's awesomely hot, but here's a new thought I just had: even if Robby didn't mind me messin' around with Connor, I'm not sure it would be right of me to encourage Connor's crush by engaging in more buddy sex with him... and I'm not sure why I think that, but I do just the same. Why's everything so fucking complicated anyway?

Except for short naps, Robby and me stay up all night finishing last week's assignments; complicating matters is that we need to make it look like two different papers that coincidentally contains the same information, but arranged in different ways. The professor probably doesn't care anyway, but to be safe we agree not to hang out together in class today. Robby will take a seat on one side of the room and me on the other so when we hand in the papers they'll be a lot of other papers between mine and Robby's. We acknowledge to each other that we're paranoid about this, and we're both suffering guilty consciences for cheating, but better to be safe than sorry. Our solemn promise to each other that we'll never let this happen again even sounded hollow to us. We're so tired Monday night we fall asleep right after having soup for dinner. Tuesday becomes our third day without sex and that's just not right... plus I'm getting cranky. We have a shift at Stop and Shop after classes on Tuesday, then homework. My supervisor, Alan, yelled at me twice for not hustling with the shopping carts in the parking lot even giving me a smack on the back of my head, saying, "Get movin' boy!" That gave me a semi-boner. I turned around quickly, startled to be smacked like that, and saw Alan with red blotches on his cheeks and both hands in his pockets, playing with the bulge there. Could it be that bossing me around, and now smacking the back of my head, turns him on. In case that's the case, I look down mumbling, "Sorry, Mr, Snyder." He gasped in a lungful of air but couldn't say anything, just gestured with his hand that I should move along, which I did. I needed to take a big inhale myself. That's very intriguing and I tried to figure it out the remainder of my shift but couldn't get a real fix on it.

Back at the apartment after work, it's obvious that last Sunday night's lack of sleep is still taking it's toll on us and we crash early, waking up refreshed on Wednesday, but we've got an early lab this morning so we rush around getting showered and dressed. I high five a sleepy-eyed Chubby coming out of his bedroom as Robby and I run through the apartment trying to get to the Holly Ridge building by eight o'clock. Chubby yells after us, "Whoa, that's only one out of a thousand college classes you'll have, why not skip it?" He's serious about that and believe me, I agree with him, but Robby's adopting this new approach that he and I are going to take college more seriously. He's not giving me a choice, but that don't bother me because I expect that this new found conscientiousness will peter-out as fast as it petered-in. We barely make it to lab on time, the doors are closed behind us and as we take our seats and the professor begins his lecture. Robby's looking over at me, like, "See, I told you we could make it!" I give him my phony adoration look, muttering, "My hero..." and Robby actually reaches over to pull on my arm, whispering, "Pay attention to Dr. Reingolger!" I think he was serious. Jeez, maybe he's taking this dominant act too far, like you know who else did. Ha ha, it makes me remember the time Willie punished me for some goddammed thing I did wrong. Oh, I think it was the time I got the pierced ear without asking him first. Oh my god, he didn't like that. By the way, he emailed me last night with a sweet message about how perfect a boyfriend I'd been for him. It was two pages long, listing one perfect attribute I have after another. That's Willie for ya, he'll con ya right out of your jockstrap.

We have four classes today and then after classes this afternoon Robby begins indoor baseball practice which will cut out most of his shifts at Stop and Shop, as well as a lot of free time with me. He doesn't really need the money from a part-time job anyway, but I'll miss our free time together, and especially the afternoon sex we fit in during some of that free time; not this week, but most weeks. I'm thinking about getting Robby to drive us to some secluded place in his pick-up and fuck me there like we used to do behind the movie theater at the Loop back home. Then our last class of the day ends, and Robby's hurrying off to practice: 'ain't being celibate great!?' No, not particularly!! I hustle across the campus and snag Chubby outside his last class of the day and nag him to hang-out with me, but he can't 'cause he's taking on extra hours at Stop & Shop to refurbish his spending money stash; he's spent too much money the past few months trying to be a big deal with Samantha, and consequently his funds are dangerously low. Samantha, by the way, did not take Chubby's brush-off during their Bertuccie's dinner very well. She had not acted in a lady-like fashion and Chubby was less than pleased at the screaming match she instigated in the restaurant. When I asked him about it he merely mumbled, "Ah, the hell with her! What was I thinking?" which made me happy, but even without him hooking up with Sam, I still haven't seen much of him. Chubby and me only have one class together; his schedule is very different than Robby's and mine, and now all his free time is taken up by the part-time job... which sucks!

Connor and me did get to go to a hockey game Wednesday night at the rink right here on campus. Merrimack College is ranked number two in Hockey East competition and there's a lot of excitement about that. The rink is packed with students and a lot of energy flows through the place. We don't know much about hockey since we've never played it, but it's fun standing up out of our seats and screaming when Merrimack scores. Connor and I high five and hug with each score, then high five everyone around us, just like we're real hockey fans.

It's exciting even though I don't know what the hell they're doing on the ice half the time. It seems to be a complicated game, firstly it takes place on ice, wearing ice skates fer christsakes, not a good start. That should be all the complication one could handle, but no... the puck's real small too, and guys are always skating into one another and then for some reason everyone on the ice will stop trying to put the puck in the net and skate in circles for a little bit. Connor and I look at each other, shrug, and bump fists like we know what's up. Still, like I said, it's a lot of fun. Merrimack beat Umass four to three so everyone left the rink happy. We hook up with some kids Connor knows and force down a couple of beers at someone's dorm room with a bunch of guys and girls. My heart's not in it though and we leave when one of the kids brings out a bong and fires that baby up. "Time to split, dude," I say, and off we go. Nice hug from Connor, plus a quick kiss on my lips again, like he did before his haircut, but that's the extent of it. Well, to be honest I found myself ogling Connor a few times during the game and he did catch me doing it once giving me the sweetest smile as I grinned and stared back at him... oh man, he's something alright, but I'm probably giving off the wrong signals, and maybe unintentionally encouraging him. I can't help it sometimes... he deserves a better boyfriend than me though. Damn, why doesn't anything work out for that boy?

I get back to the apartment as Chubby's just coming in from somewhere, looking exhausted; probably from a long shift at Stop & Shop. I tell him about the hockey game, but he doesn't know any more about hockey than I do so our conversation doesn't last long. As we hug before he heads to bed the strongest urge comes over me: I want to ask him if I can sleep with him tonight. We used to always sleep together as kids, then in high school we'd sleep together for special occasions, but of course now that's impossible. What would I tell Robby when he gets home? And, Chubby wouldn't want to do it anyhow. It's just that I've got what amounts to a desperate desire to be with him in some intimate way. Is it possible I'll never be able to do that again with my best bud of all time? Has Chubby totally moved on from us doing that? I hope not. Robby's still out with some of his new teammates, bonding I guess. I don't know what time he got in bed 'cause I was deep asleep. Usually I wake up and get my body next to his when he comes to bed after me, but not this night for some reason. Next morning we're hustling around again trying to make another early class. We gotta do better choosing our schedule because this semester sucks!

It doesn't help matters that these are the dog days of winter; it's easy to become depressed with short days, gloomy February skies, and all the filthy dirty snow that's piled everywhere. Add to that too many days without hot sex to brighten ones outlook and it's no wonder I had that strange need to sleep with Chubby last night, and then at the hockey game my sexual thirst for Connor gets me staring at him like a dog in heat. Then, this morning I see Dajon walking in the hallway and he's like candy; I really want to mess around with him and I start doing what my supervisor at work, Alan Snyder, does; I put my hands in my pocket and begin playing with myself. Yeah, and what was it Rajon said to me? Something to the effect that I can do whatever I want with him. Jeez! Robby and me need to reevaluate this 'going steady' thing. We'll definitely stay number one boyfriends for each other, it'll be like we're almost-going-steady boyfriends. We'll let a tiny little bit of 'openness' into our relationship, that's all. Still, I'm keeping true to what Robby told me; no flirting, no nothing. I want be faithful to him, and I will be, but I'm still going to propose he lift the ban a little, that's all. And, even though I'm getting obsessed with this I have no intention of throwing that three-way he had with Dodger and Vinnie in his face. It hardly ever enters my mind that I witnessed that hot little time between those three naked boys. Damn, I gotta grope myself again just visualizing that scene in the Dickers' garage. Whoa! Those three are hot! Oh well, I'm good with it... it's in the past and anyway, I mean... well, it's not like I'm proposing we go wild like that, I'd just like to have a tiny bit of buddy sex while I'm still young, that's all. It's for Robby's benefit too, although he better not be hitting on Connor! Connor's been my friend right from the start... Robby wouldn't even know Connor if it weren't for me and anyway he's got other possibilities, including his hottie brother, and his hottie brother's hottie boyfriend, Vinnie. I gotta say that Robby needs to stay clear of Rajon too, unless we do a three way. Oh my god, I hope Robby doesn't reconnect with that dweeb of an asshole Chad Bundy. Oh man, he sucks although he's kinda hot too, and now here I go with more groping and I've got myself a nice boner again... feels damn good. Of course I'm getting ahead of myself a little since Robby's got to give his okay first, but I think it can work.

On rare melding days this winter everything gets messier during daylight hours, then freezes overnight to form black ice on which you can break your neck falling on your ass, or skid into another car trying to stop while driving on it. That's what we were dealing with until today and it's been part of the the suckiness of things. This whole week's been a sucky week; the last good day I had was last Saturday. It's Friday again and that great sex Robby and I had last Saturday seems like a month ago. To make everything worse, Chubby came down with a terrible stomach virus last night; he's so sick he isn't going to classes today. Probably been working too many hours and his resistance to the ten billion germs out there is low. He says he'll skip classes and stay in the apartment splitting his day into two parts; half the time he'll spend on the toilet, the other half moaning in bed. I told him that's a good plan and even volunteered to stay home with him, but he'd wisely decided he's in a sort of an embarrassing situation, toilet-wise, and he'd rather deal with it alone; well, just him and his friend Pepto Bismol. I know what he means, I'd feel the same way if it were me in his situation, although in the end I'd probably accept his offer to stay home with me and, as gross as it might sound considering the toilet activity associated with this type illness, I'd still nag him to get in bed with me. I don't think I could pass up that opportunity no matter how sick I was... ha ha ha. I say that now, but maybe I'd think differently if I were really sick.

Anyway, a bright spot... the roads are improved this morning as some melting is taking place, so we take Robby's pick-up to Merrimack with me daydreaming again about all the times Robby and me fucked in this thing behind the movie theater; those were the days. They weren't so long ago either and some things never change, like Robby having baseball practice after class, just like he had it after class in high school. Okay, I'm pouting about that a little and Robby gets pissed at me for trying to drag him down. He goes, "You know how much I love playing baseball, and especially being on the college team! Don't give me a guilty conscience, Dylan... feel good for me. I would for you." He's right, of course, so I smile and mutter, "Sorry! You're right," and hug his shoulders. That's fine, but I've got nothing going on myself now so I'm gonna hang around campus until Robby gets out of practice. Wish I was on the team but there wasn't any way I could even make the practice squad, these college kids are really good athletes. At the beginning of the first semester, planning ahead, I tried volunteering to be a flunky for the baseball team, but no dice... those jobs are consolation prizes for kids who weren't quite good enough to made the team, but want to be involved with it in some way. So screw it, I'll chill at the quad for a while. Of course, I could walk home but Chubby's there shitting out his virus, so for his and my sake I'll hang out here waiting for Robby at the end of practice.

It won't be so bad hangin' on campus, but first I gotta get through Friday classes. As usual on Friday our two morning classes drag, but they're finally over and we're free till three o'clock when our afternoon class is scheduled. One of the many ways college is soooo much better than high school is the way we're free to come and go as we please; done with a class, do whatever you want. Today Robby and I drive to Fuddruckers for a cheeseburger lunch.

On the way over I'm whining about our lack of sexy type activities this week and especially when compared to last Saturday, which was awesome. Robby concurs with my whine as we've managed only one quick fuck since last Saturday, and it was uber quick. After commiserating with me, Robby switches-up on me and takes an adult approach, "Hey, stop complaining! Listen Dylan, it's good for us to go without sex for a bit, makes it's smokin' hot when we get back to it, ya know." I go, "No, I don't know, and since when are you so blase about going without?" But we're at the restaurant now so we shelve this conversation for later.

Inside we hook up with some kids, including Connor who I haven't seen since the hockey game; he's looking so nice with his new haircut. He looks like a different boy actually. Walking inside Fuddruckers we wave at Connor and get in line to place our orders, then I yell over, "Connor, save us a couple of seats!" He's with a kid name Homer and the only thing I know for sure about Homer is that his name's not Homer. He's called that 'cause he looks a tiny bit like Homer Simson. It gets crazy-crowded in here at times 'cause Fuddruckers burgers are a superior food and I believe they're even considered one of the major food groups: carbs, veggies, fruits, dairy, protein, and Fuddruckers burgers. I'm not positive about that though. This place is not a fast food restaurant; everything is cooked to order. The line to place our orders moves slowly, which is the annoying part of eating here, but like I said, there's an awesome amount of free time in college so it's not a stress factor that we're sorta wasting time here.

We finally place our order and pay for it and receive one of those things that looks like a hockey puck; it buzzes and lights up when your order's ready to be picked up. In the meantime we chill with our friends in the booth, and Connor of course has a joke... Two aliens land in the Arizona desert near a closed-for-the-night gas station. As they approach the gas pumps the young alien-in-training says, "Greetings Earthlings! We come in peace. Take us to your leader." The gas pumps of course do not reply and the young alien gets pissed-off, but the experienced alien calms him down. The young one tries again, "Take us to you leader." But still nothing from the arrogant pumps and now the rookie alien is really pissed off and draws his ray gun, but the older one, as he backs away from his young companion, says, "Ya probably don't wanna do that." The young alien tries one last time to get a response then opens fire and there's a huge explosion as both gas pumps burst into an enormous fireball. When the young alien regains consciousness two hundred feet away, he refocuses his three eyes, unbends his antenna and says to the wiser alien, standing above him, "What ferocious creatures they are!" The experienced space traveler says, "Yes, but it's been my experience during intergalactic travels that you never want to mess with a creature who can loop his penis over his shoulder twice, and then stick it in his ear."

We all get a good laugh as Connor's and Homer's buzzer goes off... they head for the pick up counter to collect their lunch. Five minutes later Robby and I feel our hockey puck buzzing and we hurry for our burgers and drinks too. As we're all eating, in between mouthfuls, we dump on guys and girls we know who aren't here. The four of us are laughing at stuff that's not really all that funny, but it's just the mood we're in. The laughing and general kibitzing and BS'n goes on for a long time after we've finished eating, which means we're taking up a table other could use to eat their lunches, but it's all cool... it's the kind of self-centered thing college kids do. The college experience teaches you how to goof off without feeling guilty about it. We con ourselves into thinking we're spending a couple of hours exchanging ideas with our fellow college students; our peers, who will be the future leaders of the world. We're brainstorming the courses we're taking and the concepts we're studying... well, no, actually I was right the first time: we're just BS'n and goofing off. We can take this 'brainstorming and exchange of ideas" to a whole new level when alcohol is involved. Oh yeah, too much beer and our philosophical discussions are a rush, like were flying down the highway on the back of a hurricane; it's all about being young, dude! We'll be young until the clouds fall from the sky! Right? Well fuck, at the time it seems like that, but next day we're dealing with hangovers and sometimes a little of that "flying down the highway" conversation drifts back into our head and faces turns red 'cause it's not unheard of that we'll make a ridiculous statement or two, or maybe confess something embarrassing while under the influence of alcohol or pot.

Later, back at college, the three o'clock class slides by slowly, but it's now mercifully over and there's a glorious thing staring us in the face: a weekend!

Even though I have to work a shift at Stop and Shop Sunday, weekends are treasured at college. Robby punches my arm lightly, saying, "I'm heading for indoor baseball practice, where you gonna be? I'll hunt ya up when practice is over." I tell him I'm heading for the Sak, which is the common area, "I'll probably be in the quad, but call my cell or text me 'cause I might end up in one of the recreational lounges watching TV or playing air-hockey, or something.

See ya, dude." I've got some homework to do but I've no intention of doing it now. Entering the Sak building I head for the quad and inside that large room, surrounded by windows, I slip into an overstuffed chair and immediately take out my smart phone. It's a ruse intended to give the impression I have an urgent call to make, just in case someone is looking at me. Cell phone out, I'm casually looking around to check out who's here and notice a few groups of two or three students conversing quietly, none of whom I know. The kids in here are mostly by themselves, like me. When alone it's best to think of someone to call; it won't do to appear like you have no friends. The best possible scenario of course is you're alone with a bunch of strangers and you get an actual for-real call. When it happens be sure to take your time getting to your smart phone so everyone can identify that's it's you who's the popular one. Drag out all conversations in that situation, and when you've totally run out of people to talk with, check the weather. Next best thing to talking on the phone is texting; text or twitter everyone you know, and it can be stupid stuff you're sending, like, "I'm bored" or "Whassup? or "My ear's stopped up with wax," and when you're tired of that, immediately open your lap top and start tying.

Usually the typing will be for a computer game you're playing, but maintain an expression of concerned concentration; I mean, who's gonna know you're not typing an important paper about the mechanical engineering in motorsports, whatever that is. Tired of that? Check out facebook, listen to itunes, or as a last resort, actually try doing a homework assignment. If you're one of the fortunate ones, and I'm not, you've got another way to impress peers... casually pull out your ipad! Oh my god, you're immediately so cool! Whip that baby out and just randomly type on it and everyone's impressed and jealous that you have the latest six hundred dollar Apple product. Well, I say six hundred dollars, but that's for the ipad with AT&T internet connection; you can get an ipad for five hundred without the internet connection. As for me, I'm doing one of my favorite things: checking out the kids around me.

First of all, from the conversations I can hear, I gotta say college is definitely an "R" rating environment... lots of "F" bombs and cursing in general, and that's from the girls too. Lots of sweat pants and sweat shirts and hoodies and jeans, then there's those awful skinny jeans that guys wear hanging off the bottom of their asses... it looks so stupid! Two girls next to me, about five feet away, are discussing the guys they hooked up with last weekend, and believe me, in college hooking up with someone can mean anything from a kiss to casual sex, including fucking, and it's done without commitment, or even affection in almost every case. These two girls are laughing because the girl with the greasy ponytail can't even remember, "the name of the fuckin' guy who screwed me"... sweet! And now here comes more of their irritating giggling. I say ponytail, but I should have said horsetail because this girl has so much thick course hair it makes a fat bundle hanging halfway down her back... ugh! Is it possible she thinks that's attractive? And, it'd be interesting to see the guy she hooked up with... jesus, he must be a world class loser!

Anyway, I pack up all my stuff and abruptly stalk away like I'm late for something important. Actually I simply want to distance myself from the potty mouth gigglers. I walk outside and fire up a cigarette wandering down toward the church smiling to myself thinking about the religious aspects of Merrimack, and how none of my friends are into it at all. This is a Catholic college but you'd never know it from everyday life; there's no pressure for student to participate in the religious aspects of life on campus, although I suppose many do. As a matter of fact the one and only time I've been in the church was during our campus tour. Then, turning the corner I spot my nemesis, Dick-head Verris. He's alone and he's spotted me too so I'm not about to turn around to avoid him, although I would have if he hadn't seen me. I'm never looking for trouble, although it seems to find me easily enough. What the fuck, I'm not going to pretend I'm glad to see him, but I nod as we're passing each other. When he's just by me, I hear, "How 'bout a blow job, faggot?" I go, "Huh?" He stops, turns around and says, quite clearly, "You heard me!" I shake my head, making an expression of disgust, and wave a hand at him, like, "get the fuck outta here!" and keep walking. He calls out, "Queer!" but doesn't follow me. You know, I was having a relaxing time taking in the college scene and then I encounter Verris for fifteen seconds and now my face feels hot and my eyes feel watery, and everything sucks. Damnit! How can I win, what can I do in this situation? He can bring me down faster than anyone since you know who, that psycho Joel. By the way, speaking of the devil, Robby's dad saw Joel a couple of months ago. Yeah, he's working for a company that supplies Mr. Dickers' landscaping business with fertilizers. Joel's running a piece of machinery 'cause apparently he needs a cane to walk, and he isn't getting around too good on that either. He's lucky he can walk at all; and if he can only crawl that motherfucker's still dangerous! Anyway, this Verris problem is nothing like the Joel thing but maybe I'll talk to Robby and Chub anyway... see what they think I should do about it.

Back in the Sak I badly need to take a leak so I head into the first head I see. It's the small one across from the Taco stand. Inside, the place is empty so I walk over to one of the two stalls, just 'cause it's closest, not because I'm shy about someone seeing my penis at a urinal, like some guys are. Nothing better than a piss when ya really gotta go. And speaking of piss, I'm still pissed-off about Verris... then I hear the door to the restroom creak open, then close. Quick footsteps in my direction and before I can turn he's on my back, arms around my neck... I know who it is just from the feel of him...

to be continued...

Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com