DYLAN'S Georgia Vacation
Chapter 1
by Donny Mumford
It's Monday and the last final exam of my sophomore year has been taken, so I'm now officially at the halfway point in my college career. Two more years at Merrimack and I'll be looking for a job like most graduating seniors from all the colleges and universities across America. Sophomore year was a success socially, I thought, speaking only for myself. As for academically, it was also a success for those of us in Robby's study group. We all improved our GPA scores, so that's good because getting good grades is sort of the point of going to college for most of us. I'm referring to those of us in generic degree programs. The generalized material we memorize for exams is then quickly forgotten because it's basically useless in the real world. What's on my radar screen presently is three months of summer break. Beginning with grade school, through middle school and high school, and now college I've had many summer breaks from education and pretty much loved all of them, but this one's going to be different. The majority of this year's summer break I'll be away from home living and working with Ryan in Marietta, Georgia. All the teary goodbyes with my mom, Tris, Chubby, and Robby are over now, and I'm left staring into the unknown alone. Well, that's a bit overly dramatic because I'll be with Ryan, but other than that almost everything I'll experience will be a new to me.
Right now Robby's driving his pickup truck to a dealership where he'll trade it in for a new one. My brother, Chubby, is already home because he finished his exams last Friday. That leaves just Ryan and me in the apartment getting ready for our trip to Georgia. Ryan's just finished giving me one of his ridiculously short haircuts claiming it'll remind me that he's in-charge this summer. His reasoning for that is flawed, but it doesn't really matter. He thinks if I'm submissive to him it will satisfy my submissive fetish reducing the danger of me falling under some dominant madman's control. Yeah, sure... Well, at times I do enjoy being submissive during sex and I even like someone being 'in-charge' outside of sex, but I'd never allow myself to fall victim to a dominant sex partner the way Ryan has. I've never been a victim and I never will be one. The fact is I can't maintain a submissive attitude for any extended period of time because real life intrudes even during sex games. In my early sexual experimentation I allowed myself to be mistreated occasionally, but for only short periods of time, like twenty minutes or a half hour. Like that. As an experiment one time I tried being submissive to Willie in Key West, but that didn't even last a day and a half before fizzling out, and I was really trying to stretch it out too. Bottom line: I'm not concerned about it. I'll let Ryan be concerned enough for both of us. On second thought he ought to be concerned about himself because he has a history of slipping back under someone's influence, most recently with the fuckwad this year, so he's way more at risk than me.
Hell, I know Ryan has only best intentions for me so I figure what's the harm if he thinks he's helping me. My reason for trying this new experience is quite different from his. For me it has to do with challenging myself to deal with the alien environments known as Marietta, Georgia, Mr. and Mrs. Wilcox, and working for Ryan. Working for him when I'm not even sure what I'll be doing on the job. Anyway, by dealing with these unknowns I'll hopefully become more mature. Ta da, just like that. Actually I've made some progress in the area of maturity since going away to college, but I haven't been on my own yet. I want to be able to handle situations without leaning on my brother, family, or friends. It would be kind of admirable of me if I conceived of this self-help plan myself, but the truth is it's mostly because of happenstance I'm going to Georgia, and then I naturally rationalized to myself that it'll be good for me. Nope, there was no preconceived self-help plan. It came about more from jealousy than anything else. Robby told me his other boyfriend, Danny Monday, would be working on his crew this summer and living with him, so in a pout I accepted Ryan's offer to spend this summer living and working with him. Handling unknown situations and becoming more mature were afterthoughts. Whatever, I'm in it now and I'll try to make the best of it because it's too late to change plans anyway. As far as the
submissive thing goes: Ryan will be my boss at work, and inherently that means me as his employee I must be somewhat submissive to him. The entire arrangement of him being my boss and me living in his house basically puts me in a submissive position whether I like it or not. It'd pretty much put anybody in a powerless position. Anyway, that's a long explanation for why I tolerate Ryan giving me these stupid haircuts, and why I recognize, by default basically, that he's in-charge.
Ryan and I have had a hot sub/dom sexual relationship together for like two years now and he's always been in the dominant role with that, so it's not much of a stretch to see him being in charge of other things this summer as well. None of this is that big of a deal if done within reason, and I'll be the one who decides whether it's within reason or not. So okay, Ryan's in-charge, and before we leave the apartment he has some rules I'll need to follow. What the hell, I'm already feeling a bit submissive from subjecting myself to Ryan's haircutting, so I mumble, "Sure, why not some rules," and sit in the chair he told be to sit in with Ryan standing in front of me. He's full of confidence now, but generally speaking he's only real confident when it's just the two of us. When Robby or my brother, Chubby, are around they kinda intimidate Ryan, but they've left, so let's hear the rules.
Looking overly serious and confident, Ryan holds up a finger, saying, "This is rule number one, Dylan: During the trip home we split the cost of everything fifty/fifty. Gas, motels, meals, tolls, whatever. Oh, and my mom wants to see all the receipts from the trip too." What the fuck? I raise my hand, making him grin, as I ask, "Why does she need to see the receipts?" He shrugs, "It's kind of embarrassing to admit, but she'll compare them to my debit card account to verify I've paid for only my share." I go, "Um, I still don't get it. Won't she take your word for it? And anyway I fully expect to pay my share, so why would she...?" Damn, my already limited submissive feeling is slipping away because I need to question this bizarre nonsense. Ryan's obviously embarrassed for his mother, as well he should be. He blows out a long exhale, then shrugs, "Um, she has this ridiculous notion you'll take advantage of me. She figures since I've never had any real friends growing up, um, there must be something fishy going on that all of a sudden I've got a friend like you." Something fishy? I go, "What kind of saying is that? Who the fuck says, 'something fishy'?" He's uncomfortable now, "Um, well when I showed mom your picture she had a hard time believing someone like you could conceivable be my friend, never mind my boyfriend. She's very dubious, she suspects the worst, thinking either I'm lying or you're playing me for a fool." I'm like flabbergasted, muttering, "Are you fuckin' serious?" He blushes, "Yeah, mom can conjure up some crazy scenarios in her head when it comes to me." I go for a little sarcasm, "Well, I'm flattered she feels I'm too good for you, but that part about me being a con artist. I've got a problem with that." He's shaking his head, "No, no! It's not just you, Dylan. She's like that with everybody." Jesus, what a piece of work she is! I'm a bit dubious too. Of his mother obviously, and now Ryan's lost his confident demeanor, imploring me, "Dylan, I know you'd never take advantage of me, but both mom and dad are overly protective of me, that's all." And what a load of bullshit that is! For one thing, the last four or five years Ryan's been badly abused physically and mentally by sadistic dominant sex partners, which means at times he'd go home roughed-up and depressed. His explanation to his parents for the black eye, or split lip, or whatever was he got his injuries playing schoolyard sports, and they'd say, "Oh, another accident, huh." Like that was enough explanation for them. Oh yeah, some over-protective parents they are. They basically didn't want to be bothered.
After that unbelievable explanation for rule number one, Ryan wants to move away from that dicey topic. He holds up two fingers; then, with less emphasis, says, "The second rule is, um, I make all the decisions during the drive home. Ya know, simple things like deciding when and where we stop, when and where we eat, and when and where we sleep." His rules probably sounded okay to him in his head when he was writing them down, but now saying them out loud he's probably having second thoughts. As he's talking, I can't stop feeling my hair with my fingertips. In some places Ryan cut it so short it feels like fine sandpaper. When I'm not feeling my hair, I'm smelling the back of my hand which is a habit I picked-up from Dougie Hamilton. Every time I do it Ryan reaches over and pulls my hand away, saying, "Pay attention." I'm like, "I am paying attention," but actually I'm still mulling over his mother's worries that I'll take advantage of her son. Yeah, I'm a little fixated on that preposterous notion. Ryan stops talking, chews on his bottom lip, perhaps trying to recapture his confident manner. With a renewed determined look on his face, he says, "Stand up, Dylan." I slowly get up, and he says, "Don't slouch. Stand up straight." So I do an exaggerated standing at attention like I'm in the Marines. Hell, my haircut looks like something a gung-ho marine would have. Ryan stands right in front of me, saying, "Forget about my mom for now. I'm keeping the receipts and we'll leave it at that, okay?" I shrug, "Yeah, whatever."
After staring at me for a few seconds, he says, "You may think I'm an asshole for outlining these rules, but if you're going to do the thing with me this summer you need to do it my way. Right or wrong, I think this summer will be helpful to you, so give it a chance. You know I only want good things for you, but I've gotta be in-charge if it's going to do you any good." Oh brother! I just stare back at him, so he says, "Right now, tell me if you agree." I mumble, "I agree." He goes, "You don't even know what you agreed to. Asks me if I'll do it for you." Oh fuck, he's serious? We're not getting off to a good start, but to humor him I go, "Will you please be in-charge this summer?" He says, "Ask me again, and mean it," so I ask him sincerely and he says, "Yes, I'll do it for you, but you'll need to follow these rules I'm trying to outline for you." He reaches over and puts his hand on my head, "The haircuts I give you, like this one, should be a reminder that I'm in charge. Ask me to continue giving you whatever haircuts I want you to have." I'm like, "Sure, Ryan, but is this quiz necessary? I didn't get a chance to study for it." He goes, "Everything's a joke to you, and yeah, this is necessary! That's if you wanna come with me this summer. Or I can give you a ride home right now." Hmmm, there's a thought! Yeah, except I'm feeling my submissiveness returning a little bit, so I go, "No problem, the haircut's fine." He says, "Good, we're in agreement then. Am I right?" My dick moves a tiny bit in my pants 'cause I like the way I'm feeling now that Ryan's got his dominant mojo working again, "Yes, Ryan." He can do 'dominant' pretty good, but my problem is I'm never sure if I'm playing a game with him just because it's cool to be submissive for awhile, or if I'm actually feeling submissive to him. Unfortunately I'm leaning towards the 'game' theory.
We're still standing with Ryan staring at me, his face close to mine. I stare back at him trying not to grin, but I'm again sensing a kind of submissive powerlessness, or something. But I'm still not sure if it's a real submissiveness or if it's me just going along with the flow to see were it goes. Considering the reality of my situation though, the facts remain that we're driving to Georgia in Ryan's car, I'll be living with his family, his mother's suspicious of me already, plus I'll be working under Ryan. These are the facts, so what the fuck, I am kinda powerless for real. On the other hand I could blow this whole thing off whenever I feel like it. There are two reasons I'm not inclined to do that though: one, so far I'm kind of enjoying Ryan's little Napoleon act, and two, I still have my objective of gaining some maturity by dealing with all of this bizarreness. Ryan says, "Okay, you can sit down," so I suppress another grin and immediately sit, acting overly attentive for a couple of seconds. Ryan gives me a 'look', then gets back to business, saying, "It's about an eleven hundred mile drive to Marietta. I'm breaking up the drive into no more than seven hours on the road per day. Without traffic jams we should cover approximately three hundred miles each day. Not today of course because we're not leaving here until like two o'clock this afternoon." I nod my head like this is all mucho interesting, and he asks, "How many hours of driving was it when you guys went to Fort Lauderdale?" I mumble, "We drove straight through in a little over a day." Rolling his eyes, he says, "No offense, but that was dangerously stupid." Huh, I'm feeling weird again somehow... sort of lazy too.
I know from experience my initial submissive sense came from the haircut a little while ago, and that was authentic, but since then its been up and down submissive-wise for me. He did call me on the fact I wasn't paying attention and that helped me retain some form of a submissive demeanor. And anyway I'm not complaining about that part because it's a nice relaxing feeling. I do, however, have serious doubts that even a small amount of submissiveness on my part can be maintained for very long, and no chance it'll work all summer. Zero chance of that. Hate to disappoint Ryan, but it is what it is. Picking up on what Ryan's been saying, I hear, "... about a hundred fifty miles, then stop at a motel. That'll leave almost a thousand miles to go. So, lets see, today's Monday and if I've figured correctly we'll be home before lunch time on Friday. Got it?" My fingers are feeling my sandpaper hair again as I'm absently nodding my head in agreement with whatever he's been saying. Now Ryan appears to be a bit exasperated when he says, "Speak up, Dylan." I'm like, "Sorry, I mean, yes, I've got it. Friday's lunch. and what was the other thing...?" It's been kind of bothering me that Ryan says things like, 'we'll be home' or, 'when we're home' and things like that. It's home for him of course, but not for me. I don't know why it bothers me that he doesn't differentiate who's home it is, but it does bother me. He should say something like, 'when we get to my place', or 'my home,' like that. It's never going to be my home. Jesus, unless he thinks it will be one day...
Shaking his head he holds up three fingers now and I'm not at all sure I heard the rest of rule number two. Fuck! He says, "And rule number three is 'no arguing'. When I decide something you should feel free to offer an alternative suggestion. In fact I want you to if you have one, but no arguing about my final decision. Okay so far?" I nod my head still trying to member the rest of rule number two. Ryan puts a finger under my chin lifting my head, saying, "Can you speak?" He's smiling and I'm glad to see his confidence appears to be restored. The way he's speaking is sort of hypnotizing, which is why I'm sort of spaced out. Is this the real Ryan though? Looking at him closely it surprises me I feel sexual heat for him and that I think he's think he's sexy. It's always surprised me. Surprising because of his silly pompadour, and his little eyeglasses that are slipping down his nose, and he's slim and small. That shouldn't be sexy, but for some reason it is to me. Huh, smelling the back of my hand again, I say, "Yeah, Ryan, it's all okay. I'm not gonna argue with you." He reaches over to pull my hand away from my nose, mumbling, "I don't want you doing that. My parents will wonder what's wrong with you." What's wrong with me? How 'bout what,the fucks wrong with them? He asks, "Okay? You won't do that, right?" and he had a nice authoritative tone to his hypnotizing voice making me squirm in the chair a little, saying, "I'm sorry, and yeah, I won't do it." He nods his head smiling, saying, "Thanks, I appreciate it."
He looks at a 3 X 5 index card and says, "Now for rule number four," and he holds up four fingers. "No smart-ass attitude from you, my friend. Okay? I know you like to be ironic and clever at times, but my parents don't appreciate that kind of thing. They'll think it's rude. So none of that, and since you won't be doing that around them, you might as well not do it around me either." Ooh, way to go, Ryan! That had a nice dominant sound to it. I can get submissive to that, heh heh. Yeah, but my head feels heavy now and I'd like to lay down. People without a submissive fetish can't understand how good it can feel. Good because it's a dreamy feeling without any responsibility. Of course it can be a bad thing too. Bad if you don't have a filter that tells you when things are getting out of hand. Without this filter you wind-up in situations like Ryan's past experiences and that's not good! This current, harmless dominant attitude of Ryan's with his silly unnecessary rules is about as dangerous as having too much caffeinated coffee while cramming for a final exam. Oh, and I just remembered another aspect of my genius self-help program. It's getting use to hearing 'no' for an answer, you
know, once in awhile. That never happens with Chubby and rarely with Robby, but Ryan says 'no' to me occasionally so, ya know, it's all good so far.
Oops, I wasn't listening to him again. He's holding up five fingers so this must be something about rule number five. I hear, "... in a neutral manner. Obviously you could say, 'Yes, sir', in a way that conveys insolence or insincerity. My dad will pick up on that in a nanosecond. Okay?" Huh, a 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir' family. Yeah, he mentioned that before. Uh oh, Ryan's staring at me again, then he asks, "Are you even listening?" I'm like, "Yes," and I do my absurd fast head-nodding. Fucking habits! I picked that one up from when Ryan used to do it to me and Robby. He steps over rubbing my head, "Giving you this haircut put you in a docilely submissive frame of mind, didn't it? And then when I made you ask me to be in-charge and all that, you got submissive again, right?" I shrug, "Yeah, I guess." He's just subtly telling me he can put me in a submissive mood if he wants, but that's not true. I need to feel like doing it. Raising my hand again gets Ryan laughing, then I ask, "Um, are we done with the rules now?" He leans down and kisses me on the lips, then grins, saying, "Okay, enough with the rules for now. There are more, but you need to load your clothes into the Mini Cooper and then we should get something to eat before hitting the road." I pucker my lips, then make a odd mouth sound sucking my lips apart. Ryan chuckles, "What the fuck's up with you?" He rubs my head again, mumbling, "Maybe I should give you this haircut every other day, huh?" Another puckered mouth sound from me, and he goes, "Stop messing around and lets get your shit loaded in the car. I'll help you." I have no idea why I was making those goofy lip sounds. Maybe because I'm incapable of taking any of this shit too seriously. See what I mean about me needing to act more mature. As I get my duffle bag of clothes I'm grinning to myself thinking of all the things I could do to get Ryan's mother double-checking those receipts. Maybe I should black out some totals on the receipts to get her suspicious as hell that I made Ryan pay some of my share. Heh heh, that'd be a mature thing to do.
We load my clothes into the car with Ryan's giving me funny looks, probably because he's not sure if I'm messin' with him or what. I'm not sure either, but I feel my submissive trance, such as it was, fading quickly. If he continued with his rules lecture, just listening to his voice might have maintained some of that dreamy submissive sense for me. A submissive trance is what I imagine being hypnotized would feel like. It's all basically gone now though. In the car Ryan drives cautiously out of the parking lot, saying, "What do you feel like having for lunch, Dylan?" Fuck, I'm back to normal, "How about we share a Pizza Factory pizza, boss." He goes, "Yeah, Pizza Factory or Sal's Pizza, either one sounds good." The Pizza Factory is closest so Ryan drives us there, asking, "Um, did you even listen to my first five rules?" I repeat the gist of the five, guessing correctly at the fifth, then ask, "What's with the formal, 'Yes, sir' stuff?" He says, "It's a southern thing I guess. Anyway it's how my parents were raised and then me too. That's before we moved north a couple of years ago. It just seems natural to
me." I shrug, "It's no big deal I guess. Do you want me to say it to you too?" He shakes his head, "Of course not, don't be stupid." I go, "If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you'd lighten-up on the word 'stupid' when referring to me." He goes, "Sorry, it's a Freddie thing. A British thing. They don't mean anything by it. Like dog's bollocks, or gobsmacked, which sounds nasty but means amazed. Freddie also says bugger off, which means scram, and fagged, meaning to disturb or bother someone, I think." I'm grinning, "Fuckin' Brit's, huh? Fag means a cigarette too, right?" Ryan laughs telling me a couple more of Freddie's British slang. Then he says, "I'm almost sure he's bisexual, but I never got to first base with him. I'll bet you could have though." I say, "Well, I kinda prefer a guy approaching me with an unmistakable message that he'd like to explore a little gay sex with me. I prefer that much more than me initiating anything along those lines myself." Then I almost tell him how Tracy approached me assuming I'd do it with him. Talk about a guy with a confident manner, but really nice about it too. I don't think Tracy's 'out' as bisexual yet, so I don't say anything about our quick fucks. Instead I mumble, "In other words, and this is no brag, but I don't usually need to ask for it, ya know?" He gives me a 'look', then says, "You've asked me for it, haven't you?" I go, "Oh, yeah, that's different. I mean I don't ask the first time, but once the relationship's established, ya know, then it's anything goes." He nods his head, unconvinced perhaps, so I add, "You asked me first. It was at lunch that time at the apartment. Remember?" He goes, "Yeah, I believe I do recall something like that."
When we're at the Pizza Factory I order a large cheese pizza and as soon as we sit at a table to wait for it, I get a cellphone call from Robby. We talk for a few minutes with him telling me all about his new pickup. I hear Danny in the background saying something, and then Robby goes, "Danny wants me to tell you the car salesman complimented us on our flat tops, saying he had one just like it when he was about our age." Then Robby wants to say something to Ryan and I pass the phone to him. Ryan's like, "Hi, Rob," and then he's listening, before saying, "I know that, and of course I wouldn't." He listens again, and agitated now he goes, "Fer chrissakes, Rob, feel free to check up on us any fucking time you want." He listens some more, getting a little red in the face, then he mumbles, "I will. Bye," and hands me the phone. Robby and I talk for a few more minutes ending with, "Love you too, Rob." Looking at Ryan for a second as he's smelling the back of his wrist looking pissed off, I ask, "What'd he say to you?" Ryan shrugs, "Nothing I don't already know. Basically he's your boyfriend... and I'm not. That's what it boils down to. Oh, and he says he'll be visiting." I'm like, "Huh, he's visiting us in Georgia?" Another frown from Ryan, "That's what he threatened, but I don't know what mom will say about that. Three gays in her house might send her over the edge." I go, "Maybe Danny could come too and they'd be four of us outnumbering your folks two to one." He tries staying pissed-off, but chuckles instead, mumbling, "That'd be something to see alright."
It's awkward for a bit, then I ask, "What's rule six?"and he clears his throat, "Oh, um, a review of our chores," but he said it like a question. I'm like, "Uh huh, chores, which will be what?" He waves his hand like it's nothing, saying, "I've already told you about those things, Dylan," and I go, "I forget." He taps his fingers on the table while smelling the back of his hand again and I burst out laughing because he's picked that habit up from me and we'll both probably be doing it in his house freaking his parents totally out. He doesn't know why I laughed so he probably didn't even realize it. I go, "Sorry, someone outside made me laugh and... oh forget about that. Um, could you run over the chores again for me?" He blushes a little, saying, "Okay, but they're nothing important. We clear the table after meals, cut the grass, take out the trash, keep our room neat, do the wash, and sometimes a special project like cleaning out the garage or something. That's all there is to it." I smell the back of my hand thinking about that. Ryan reaches over and takes my hand away from my nose, "Don't do that, it's looks weird." I mumble, "You did it yourself a minute ago," and he says, "I did not!" I go, "Ya did too and you smelled my wrist once and said it was a sexy nice smell." He shrugs, "Yeah, I can smell it, but not you." I ask, "Is that rule number seven?" He laughs, and says, "Yeah, lets make it rule seven." I nod my head, "Okay, if you say so." Ryan says, "You're being so awesome, Dylan. Thanks for not mocking my rules." Good thing he can't read my mind. I shrug like it's nothing, mumbling, "Hey, I'm a team player, dude. I'm with the program, ya know?" He makes a face, "Yeah, when you feel like it," and I mutter, "You sound like Rob now." He says, "Seriously, I thought if I laid everything out now we'll avoid misunderstands later?" I smile, "Yep, I agree, boss, you're right again." Then I hold up a finger, "Um, that thing about doing the wash though. Could you be a little more specific?" He laughs, "Oh, I see what you mean. We do our wash, not their's," and I go, "Okay then, no problem." He grins, "Ya don't want to wash my old man's underpants or momma's bras, huh?" I chuckle, "That would be correct."
Ryan's forgotten Rob's phone call by now and he's back to beaming again with an eager expression on his face, like everything's cool. I'm feeling okay so far too because Ryan almost always has a very nice way about him, especially when he's in his 'in-charge' mode. He has a kind of cute in-charge demeanor, cute like him. Of course we've only been into this stuff for an hour so far, ha ha, so ya know. I say, "You're awesome too, Ryan, and just so ya know I kinda get the hots for you sometimes, like when you're confidently telling me your rules." He's like, "Really?," like a little kid, his eyes shining. He leans forward lowering his voice, "Ya know what? I'm gonna fuck you awesomely tonight for telling me that. Thanks, it made me feel good. I just know we're going to have a great summer." As I'm grinning at his enthusiasm, our number's called for our pizza. Ryan nods his head that I should go pick it up. Oh fuck, that made my dick move in my pants again.. bossy little Ryan. I get up and do what I'm told, thinking this might be a better summer than I expected. Robby's phone conversation with Ryan put him temporarily off his game, but he's back in the saddle now. I like seeing Ryan feeling confident, and I totally know how happy he is that I'll be with him this summer. Like I said before though, he's only relaxed enough to be confident when it's just him and me, others make him uncomfortable and unsure of himself, and I gotta wonder why that is.
While eating the pizza we're calculating where we'll be after driving a hundred and fifty miles today. Ryan has a printout of our route to his place and our best guess for today is we'll get off I-84 at exit 17. There's a Motel Six close to the exit and that's where we plan to spend the night. As we leave the Pizza Factory Ryan tells me he'll drive the first leg of our journey, which consist of route 495 to the Mass Pike, and then at the exit where we'll connect with I-84 I'll take over and drive to exit 17. It'll only take us about three hours total, but by then it'll be rush-hour traffic and we want to avoid that whenever possible. This is the route we took to Fort Lauderdale for the most part, but Ryan wasn't with us. According to him we don't have any real time table, so we can take it as easy as we want as long as we get to his house by the weekend. We start work the following Monday. Getting to his house before lunch on Friday is only possible if we don't
take any side trips along the way.
Behind the wheel on route 495 Ryan's daredevil driving for him, almost driving at the speed limit. Obviously cars are whizzing by us and that's nerve-racking for me, but doesn't bother Ryan at all. I ask him, "Did ya ever get a speeding ticket? I'm guessing ya never have." He glances over, "You guessed correctly. What's the point of speeding? If I drive ten miles an hour over the speed limit we'll get there a few minutes earlier than if I more safely drive just under the speed limit." That sounds like a crock to me, but I don't feel like doing the math. Anyway, what would be the point of arguing about it. And, oh fuck, that's rule three anyway, ha ha... no arguing. Good rule. I teasingly ask, "How many times have you been rear ended?" He gives me his aggravated 'look', then says, "That would be 'never', I've never been rear ended." I shrug giving him a grin. Ryan doesn't do much talking because he says he needs to concentrate on his driving. I wonder what number that rule is?
The convertible top's up because it's a little chilly on this day in the middle of May. Putting the top down going sixty-five miles an hour would look cool, but it's not practical. Plus, this way we can hear the Counting Crows CD that's playing. I listen to the music while studying Ryan's profile. To me he's cute as a puppy, but in a distinctly unique way. Apparently others don't see that in him because Ryan's never had a boyfriend before going to Merrimack and meeting Robby. His interaction with guys his age or older was mostly limited to just the dominant perverts he'd search out for sub/dom sex. They'd fuck him senseless or spank his ass red, or whatever the fuck they felt like doing to him. Actually I've never questioned him at any length about the details because I feel bad enough for him as it is. Looking at him concentrating on his driving, constantly checking the rearview mirrors, I feel kind of protective of him. Maybe we'll run into that sick fuck who treated Ryan like shit last summer. Yeah, and maybe I'll kick his nuts up to his Adam's apple for him and see how he likes that. There goes a little old lady flying past Ryan, on the right no less, looking over at us and yelling something. Ryan gives her the finger, blushing. Oh man!
Looking at Ryan a minute later I'm now fixated on his sparse curly beard. Thus far it's only growing along his jaw with some at the bottom of his chin, and then the soft-looking beginnings of a mustache. It looks especially sexy on his baby face with those little round eyeglasses and his preppy short haircut featuring that goofy pompadour. At times I feel like I could just eat him up. Can't resist reaching over now and running the back of my finger under his chin. The whiskers are as soft as the look. Ryan shrugs his head away, saying, "No, Dylan! That distracts me." I mumble, "Grumpy,"and he says, "I'm sorry, but when I'm driving I need to concentrate." Yeah well, I guess there's nothing for him to be in-charge of at the moment, except insisting I let him concentrate on his driving. Then when I take over the driving Ryan gets into his full blown in-charge mode. Some might even call it backseat driving to which I say: kindly notice the mistletoe attached to the seat of my pants. The third time he tells me 'to slow the fuck down' I'm barely going over seventy miles an hour. I calm myself by taking a deep breath, then quietly say, "Ryan, do you recall saying you'd make yourself get used to my driving, which means me driving a reasonable amount over the speed limit? And I might add that's the way just about every other driver on this highway is driving." He mumbles, "Yeah, I guess I do recall saying that,
sorry for busting your balls about your driving. I'll close my eyes and you drive anyway you want." That's the spirit!
We'd need to be retarded to get lost because at exit 17 there's a sign pointing in the direction of Motel Six, so I drive right up to the motel and park. "You can open your eyes now, Ryan, we're here." He goes, "My eyes have been open. You drive okay. If you keep it no more that nine or ten miles over the speed limit, I'll drive five miles over it. Okay?" I go, "Yes, boss, good compromise." We check in, both of us giving our debit cards so the lady can put half the room charge on each. Ryan logs the amount and reason for the receipt, then puts the receipts in a folder that he's logically marked, 'Expense Receipts'. As we carry our stuff into the room, I tell him, "You know it's a little insulting to me that we need to prove to your mother I paid my own way." He mumbles, "I know, but believe me it's less trouble to just do it her way." That may be true, but it's still bizarre. Plus, it sounds a little ominous him saying, 'it's less trouble to just do it her way'. What's up with her? It's very puzzling and a little disturbing that she has such a low opinion of her son. Such a low opinion she can't simply take him at his word that we split the cost, or believe Ryan when he says a normal guy like moi is his friend. That's probably part of the reason Ryan occasionally says he can hardly believe I'm his boyfriend. Like he's so inferior I'd have nothing to do with him. Total bull shit of course. Hell, I was thinking how cute he is just an hour ago, and a guy's looks carries a lot of weight with me. And yeah, I know that's kinda shallow of me.
It's only five-thirty now and we ate lunch around two o'clock, so it's too soon for dinner. Ryan says, "I need a cigarette, Dylan. After being in the car for over three hours I'd like to walk around a little too." That's what we do, although there's not much to see. Ryan goes, "There's suppose to be a diner not too far from here." I shrug, mumbling, "That's what the printout indicated, but it's a least a mile from the motel." He goes, "Um, whatever. Come on, we'll walk down this side road away from the highway and maybe we'll find the diner so we'll know where it is when we are hungry." We walk and smoke, as I say, "Huh, after talking about this for so long it's kinda hard to believe we're actually into our summer break together. It's kinda weird for me." He looks over at me, and I go, "I don't mean it's weird being here with you, I like being with you. The weird part for me is knowing we're heading for your house and your parents." He mumbles, "It's a little weird for me too." I'm like, "Whaddaya mean?" He shrugs, "Oh, I don't know. I don't have any friends there and it's not like a fun house at home for me." Oh I see, a little more negatives will be revealed the closer we get to 'home'. Naturally I ask, "What do you mean, 'it's not a fun house for you'?" He shrugs, blushing a little, "It's not a lot of fun because my parents are always so serious and I gotta be on my toes all the time behaving the way my parents think a son of their's should act." I'm like, "What the fuck, you told me it'd be fun, and your parents dote on you." He punches my arm lightly, "It'll be fun with you there."
Which tells me nothing obviously, and he avoided the alleged parental 'doting', which I'm beginning to think is bull shit. I guess Ryan has to lie to me and himself by making-up that his parents dote on him. That gets me feeling sorry for Ryan all over again, and 'dote' is a funny word when you think about it. Jeez, it sounds to me like he's had more of a lonely, shitty life than he's able to admit to himself. Of course he's not the only guy I know who's had the short end of the stick when it comes to parents, or lack thereof. Guys like Seth, Connor and, well Cory too. They've all been dealt a bad hand in the 'rents' department . At least Cory's mom, for one, turned herself around last year and stopped bringing home drunk boyfriends who smacked Cory around. Ya know, I gotta count my blessings more often. I've been lucky to have the loving moms, and especially my brother in my life. Yeah,
but that's the whole point of this endeavor... for me to see what it's like not having their support. Maybe I'll get a glimpse into what it's like being Ryan.
We're walking aimlessly up this two lane back road with our own thoughts for a couple of minutes, then I put my arm across Ryan's shoulders and give him a hug, "Well, ya got a friend now, boss. You and me, bro, it's like: he ain't heavy, he's my brother." Ryan says, "You're joking, but it'll be wonderful to sort of have a brother, especially one like you. And we will be like brothers too." Huh, that's kinda sweet. Danny says he and I are like brothers, and now apparently Ryan's gonna be brother number three. From no brothers to three brothers in less then a year... ha ha, an embarrassment of riches. Only one brother really counts of course. I give Ryan's shoulders another hug and he puts his arm around my waist hugging back and looking up at me. I go, "You're cuteness is getting me horny, bro." He laughs, "Brothers who fuck," and I think of Robby and Dodger, muttering, "It happens."
We find the diner and go inside for a soda. Friendly counter waitress, and the place looks clean and all, so we'll eat here later. After drinking our sodas we're walking outside as I ask, "Should we go back to the motel, or maybe see what else is in this little hick town?" He says, "We'll go back. My big dick wants to be in various parts of your body." I adjust my crotch, "Good idea, boss." As we're retracing our steps back down this narrow country road, Ryan looks at me, "Um, Dylan, please don't call me 'boss' when we're home, okay? That would freak the rents out. They'd think it's, um, flip or something." I go, "Another rule, huh?" and he says, "There's something else I might as well tell you now, something that'll freak you out a little." I stop and put my hands on his shoulders leaning my head to his, foreh ead to forehead, saying, "I knew there'd be problematic aspects of this summer that you've held back from me." He grins, and as we start walking again, he says, "It's no big deal really. Just something goofy and embarrassing for me." I go, "What is it?" He blushes again, "Um, Ryan's my middle name. My first name is Albert and that's who I'm known as at home, at church, and everywhere except Merrimack College." I'm like, "Albert? You don't look like an Albert!" He goes, "Well I'm an 'Albert' when I'm in Marietta, Georgia. The rents would blow a gasket if they knew I was 'Ryan' at college. I'm actually Albert the third. My grandfather, dad, and me." I go, "Jesus," and he says, "Yeah, I know it's not too cool, but get used to calling me Albert, okay?" I mutter, "Okay, Albert, but I'm gonna miss Ryan."
We smoke another cigarette on our way back with me saying the name 'Albert' about fifty times making Ryan laugh. After saying it fifty times I still can't see Ryan as an Albert. In our small bathroom we're both taking a piss with me gawking at his eight inch cock, asking, "Isn't it uncomfortable having a pecker that big? I mean, that's a lot of meat to cram into jockey shorts." He says, "There are a lot of guys with bigger dicks than mine." I mutter, "Not a lot, maybe a few," and he shrugs, "I don't know, I guess you just get used to whatever size dick you've got." I say, "Well, how about if you let me suck that big dick of yours, Albert." He says, "That's what I had in mind, Dylan. And by the way, there is no one named 'Dylan' in Marietta." I go, "Until Friday, when there'll be one." I get on my knees right here in the bathroom and take his dick from his fingers. Ryan goes, "No, wait!" but I'd already put it in my mouth and when I suck on the head I get three or four drops of his urine giving me an instant boner. Taking his cock out, I yell, "Oh my God, that was so submissive, swallowing your urine." Ryan goes, "See, I didn't get to give it a shake. There were a couple drops left, huh?" I nod, saying, "Yeah, three or four. It tastes like piss." He laughs, "How odd it should taste like piss." I go, "I read somewhere urine is sterile, anyway it gave me an instant boner knowing I swallowed some of your pee." He frowns, "Really? You got a boner?" I unzip my pants and pull my boner out. Ryan say, "Wow, nice boner. You want me to piss in your mouth some time?" I go, "I'll get back to you on that, but I think I drank some of Robby's piss once, or was it yours? No, I'm sure it was yours." He shrugs, "I don't remember," as he chuckles, then says, "Anyway, you need to get naked first. Plus, um, remember what I told you about sucking my cock?" Standing
up, I take my sneakers off, drop my jeans, then my underwear and pull my sweatshirt over my head. Stroking my semi-boner, I mumble, "Yeah, I remember, you're gonna deep throat me." He goes, "Hey, good boy, you did remember." I mumble, "Yeah, I'm pretty good at remembering stuff from yesterday. Do I need to take my socks off?" Ryan says, "Yeah, everything off, every time. That's part of the way I can make you feel submissive to me. You know, you're naked when I'm not." He's right about that, except I like being naked. Ryan rubs my head, smirking and mumbling, "Love this haircut on you," then he grabs my nuts and sort of reads my mind, "I know you love being naked with me admiring your hot body. Don't pretend you don't, Dylan." I go, "Who's pretending? Yeah, I like it."
Ryan nods his head, asking, "Do you like this too?" and he squeezes my balls, but not too hard. I grunt, "Umm," and while still holding my nuts, his other fist goes around my dick. He pulls on it, saying, "Come into the bedroom," and as he often does, he uses my dick as a leash with me taking fast little steps keeping up with him. In the bedroom Ryan stokes my boner a few times, murmuring, "Hey, I think I'll milk your nuts. I haven't done that in a long time" Oooh, that's a very dominant thing to do to a submissive sex partner like me, and right away that familiar sensation of submissiveness slides over my brain. Not a super submissiveness, but the delicious kind that's warm, nice, and dreamy. Ryan stands behind me with his cock hanging down outside the zipper of his pants pressed between my butt cheeks. That's very sexy and hot right there. It's the little dominant things he does that make Ryan a special dom as far as I'm concerned. Hell, he's got the sub/dom sex thing down almost to perfection by now anyway. Over the past two years he's tried all levels of dominance during our sex together, and this current level is the one I like best. It's sort of a sweetly dominant manner normally, with a spanking thrown in once in awhile to keep me guessing. I take a deep breath laying my head back on his shoulder as he reaches from behind me to put his fist around my boner again. He has smallish hands but that matters not at all when he begins steadily doing tight six-inch strokes on my hardening cock. I haven't jerked off myself since I don't know when, and a guy jerking me off is a much, much different sensation anyway... much, much sexier is what I meant. I lean back against his body inhaling his scent and feeling the stoke, stroke, stroke on my cock as his fist pulls my uncut foreskin up and back on my boner.
Oooh, it feels so good! I want to feel more of Ryan so I reach back with both arms, a hand on each of his firm butt cheeks for a squeeze. Tight buttocks muscles on this boy, an ass that'd be great to fuck. Oooh, he continues his stroke, stroke, stroking on my boner and I'm soon, moaning, "Ummm, feels good, Ryan." He whispers in my ear, "I'm Albert," and I go up on my toes as his stroking gets tighter and faster, "Aaah, aah, ooh yeah, Albert, mmmm." Two minutes of increasingly hot sexy sensations flashing off my hard penis and now an orgasm's coming on me like a freight train as I lean back tight against Ryan, squirming against him and gasping, "Ooh ooh, ooh, ooh," each moan getting louder until my back arches, "Aaaaah," as cum shoots from my cock in a nice rainbow arc spattering on the carpet, then another streak of cum with me up on my toes humping my hips as Ryan keeps stroking, "Mmmm, aah, oh Ryan..." and another squirt shoots out. He strokes for another fifteen seconds or so, but my nuts are empty now. Ooh, man, I slump against him breathing fast little breaths that some might call 'panting'. My feet flat on the floor again, I'm savoring the sizzling from my climax that's tantalizingly sliding around my groin and then there goes my shoulders doing another little shudder on their own. "Mmmm," that was random, but kinda hot too. Ryan takes his fists away and rubs his hand on my almost hairless head, saying, "I just wiped spunk that drooled on my hand in your hair." I don't care because I feel so good after that orgasm. My hand goes to my head but I don't feel any wetness there. He chuckles, "Just kidding, Dylan, I'd never do that to you." I turn around and hug him as he asks, "How'd it feel getting your nuts milked?" I go, "Awesome, and now I need a hug, Ryan." We hug each other tightly with Ryan murmuring, "Jeez, I love you so much, Dylan." He kisses my lips, saying, "Come on, lets lay down together." I yell, "Not on the bedspread!" as my foot slips a little in my cum on the carpet. He laughs, "You germ-aphobe," as he pulls back the bedspread so we can lay on clean sheets... hopefully they're clean anyway.
We cuddle a bit, then I say, "Please take your clothes off Ryan so I can feel your hot naked body." He says, "You undress me," and that's what I do with some help from Albert. Now were laying naked together clinging to each other as I murmur, "I've obviously got some serious hots for you, Ryan. Oops, I mean, Albert." He rubs his hand on my chest, then fiddles with my nip ring, saying, "That makes me feel really good, baby. You know I've obviously got the hots for you too, I love you. Do you love me?" Rubbing my nose against his, I say, "Yes, I love you, but I'm in love with Robby first, and that's not going to change." He mumbles, "Well, we'll just see about that this summer, won't we?" Ignoring that prickly topic, I ask, "Can I at least call you, Al?" He shakes his head, "Nope, it's gotta be Albert or the folks will be very agitated," and his lips are on mine again beginning a hot make-out that produces another boner on me and a larger one on Ryan. His hand's behind my head, pulling it down, and that can mean only one thing. I move down the bed to take his boner in my mouth. I'm sucking and licking it, then
swallowing his precum. Ryan's on his side feeding me his boner until the hard head is right on the gag reflex area of my throat, just like yesterday. I'm gagging while trying to relax my throat muscles, and snorting out my nose. Ryan's aroused and breathing noisily with desire as he humps his hips pushing the head of his cock past the gag area and into my throat. With both hands holding my head steady he's thrusting his hips pushing his boned-up cock down my throat. When my nose is tightly against his groin, in amongst his pubic hair, he gasps, then begins thrusting his hips fucking my throat. It's very awkward and extremely uncomfortable for me, but incredibly dominant of Ryan. My face is hot as I'm gagging and trying unsuccessfully to snort air in through my nose.
Soon I'm holding up my hand indicating I need to breath as I try to pull my head away, but he holds it steady continuing to moan while humping his boner back and forth in my throat. Ryan finally withdraws his cock and I'm taking deep inhales through my nose and mouth still gagging and trying to hawk up some precum that got in my windpipe. Feeling a little better, I pick up his dick again and suck on his cock, fisting the long shaft at the same time while swallowing more precum. Long tight strokes on the shaft have Ryan grunting and squirming on his side while still holding my head between his hands. More sucking until I feel the head of his boner swell in my mouth, then Ryan goes, "Ooooh," sounding like he's strangling, his body gets stiff as he humps forward with cum gushing into my mouth. I gulp it down still sucking on the hard head until another hip thrust pushes his cock back in my throat and with a breathy, "Aaaah," cum pumps out of Ryan's hard boner and creamily slides down my throat. I'm concentrating on not inhaling any of it into my sinuses as Ryan's body relaxes, his cock pulls back to my tongue, he does a long sigh with just drools of cum all that's left for me to suck out and swallow. When he lays on his back moaning, his cock flops out from my mouth smearing a little cum and saliva across my cheek. I'm smacking my lips and moving my tongue over my taste buds, but can't detect a particular flavor to his cum.
Taking a deep breath Ryan strokes his cock a few times, then he casually puts an arm over my side pulling me against him, murmuring, "That was spectacular, babe. It didn't hurt you or anything, did it?" I run my fingers through the hair on the back of his head, murmuring, "I thought the deep throating part was very uncomfortable, but at the same time it gave me the hardest boner I think I've ever had." He nods his head, "That's because when I'm fucking your mouth and throat you're pretty much as dominated as it gets. A throat fucking with a big cock like mine gets submissive guys like you off really good. If I hadn't milked your nuts first you'd be creaming all over the bed." My throat feels stretched, but I'm committed to being deep throated by Ryan/Albert whenever he wants because, oh my God did I ever have a hard cock being dominated like that. Wow! Five minutes later I'm still feeling extremely submissive to him, so much so I need to stroke myself. I cuddle tighter with Ryan, who pushes my hand away from my cock, saying, "Like I was saying earlier today, I'll take care of all your submissive needs while having an awesome time doing it for you." Thinking about that a second, my submissive trance begins slipping away, "Um, Albert, I don't want to break rule three, but I'll just say that the sexy fun I get from being submissive is nothing like the submissiveness you used to exhibit to those dominant perverts in your past. You're projecting your experience onto me and it doesn't compute. But I'm not arguing." He shrugs, "I know, I know I was worse than you ever were, but I'm totally over that shit now, and what's the harm in letting me think I'm protecting you from making the mistakes I made?" I go, "No harm, thank you, Albert." He laughs, "I like it better when you call me, Ryan, but we gotta get into the Marietta frame of mind if we want things to go smoothly."
We take separate tub shower, the kind with a shower curtain instead of a shower stall. Ryan first, then with Ryan giving my bare ass a hard slap, he goes, "Get in there, boy." Oh fuck, I'll get another hard-on if he treats me like his 'boy'. Showered and dressed we go out to the car with Ryan telling me, "You drive, Dylan." We get in the Mini Cooper and he says, "Just an FYI, Dylan, I'm gonna fuck you properly tonight, but that was fun sexy messing around, wasn't it?" I've got a big grin on my face, "Yeah, absolutely, Ryan. You're an awesome sex buddy," he goes, "We're lovers, not sex buddies, and it's Albert, not Ryan." I say, "Yes sir, I stand corrected," and Ryan goes, "I like the sound of you standing corrected for once." I drive away thinking I need to temper his 'lovers' designation a little, but without hurting his sensitive feelings of course. In a weak moment during sex in the past month or two I told him I loved him, and I do in a way, but not the way he wants.
I drive us to the diner without once exceeding the speed limit of twenty-five miles an hour. That's because it's a narrow back road without street lights on a dark night and I can't see shit except what's right in front of us. We make it okay and inside the half full diner, I ask, "Should we sit at the counter or in one of the booths?" Ryan shrugs, then nods at an empty booth and we sit down as a waitress comes over with menus, asking, "Water?" I go, "Yes, please." When the waitress leaves Ryan's shaking his head at the menu. It consist of ten plastic-coated pages of small print. There are like five hundred items on the menu from breakfast to late night snacks, not counting a page exclusively for beverages. Jesus, about a hundred fifty selections for dinner alone. I ask, "Why do you think diners have these expansive menus?" He shrugs, "I don't know, but there's no way they have fresh ingredients for all these choices, some of which I've never heard of. I'm sticking to a basic food group, also known as a cheeseburger with fries and a Coke." When the waitress returns with glasses of water, we both order the burgers and fries. Waiting for our dinners we're naturally checking our cell phones. I return text messages to Robby, Chubby, Connor, my mom, Dawg and Manny, the last two ex-posse boys asking about haircuts. Damn, I'm gonna miss out on all those posse boys' haircuts this summer. Then my last text is from Seth, who thanks me for letting him have my spot on Robby's crew. What a sweet guy! The waitress brings our dinners as I text Seth that I'm happy it worked out for him, and I can't wait to see him in August.
Ryan's staring at me as I eat a French fry, so I ask, "What?" and he goes, "You've been texting away for ten minutes and I only sent a text to my dad telling him our progress, and then a shout out to Freddie." Eating another fry, I go, "So?" and he says, "You take it for granted you have so many friends. I'm jealous I guess, that all." Gee, why's he putting himself down again. I go, "Whaddaya talking about? You have friends. How about Felix?" He goes, "Oh yeah, I should text him," and I'm like, "Yeah ya should. Guys won't text you if you never text them, plus there's Rob, Danny, my brother Jeff. They all like you, but I'll bet you've never texted any of them." He puffs his cheeks out exhaling, then says, "You know, you're right. I kinda feel like they only like me because of you. And anyway I don't know what to text them about." He's making me feel bad for him again, and I don't know what to tell him to make him feel better. Making matters worse my cellphone dings twice indicating two more text messages. Probably smart-ass replies to my texts. Ignoring the texts, I say, "Well, you've got me, Albert, and I'm not chopped liver so lets look at the glass as half full, or however that saying goes." He shrugs, mumbling, "Yeah, good advice from my big brother." I go, "Ah, yes, that's what I'm here for, looking out for my little brother, Albert." And he almost spits out his mouthful of cheeseburger laughing. Then he says, "I'm getting my parents to adopt you because I've always wanted a brother like you." I'm thinking, 'No thank you very much' and then, damn, it occurs to me that Ryan's going to have a hard time being in-charge if I need to pump him up every time he gets depressed or down on himself.
We finish our dinner talking about a mutual interest: gay sex. He knows about my first time having sex, but only in a sketchy way so I fill him in on some of the gruesome details, which are anything but flattering to me. I tell Ryan the whole story of how fat Carl got me hooked on gay sex initially by forcing me to suck his cock and then he turned me over and fucked my ass hard. He did whatever he wanted for five or six weeks until he sort of lost interest in me, but then I 'needed' it and had to nag him to fuck me. He was the only gay guy I knew at the time, and even though he's totally unattractive I was fascinated by him and couldn't get him to fuck me enough. The times he wouldn't answer his cellphone I'd walk to his house, which was a forty minute walk, and I wasn't even sure he was home. Like a pathetic dweeb I'd knock on his door groveling for it. Fat Carl had lit my gay sexual fuse and in the heat I needed to get fucked... needed it! So I'd walk to his house planning on what I'd say while humbly asking if I could come in. Sometimes he'd tell me to get lost and slam the door in my face, and other times he'd get hold of my ear and drag me up to his bedroom, tell me to strip, spank my ass until my eyes were blurring with tears then fuck me two or three times so hard the forty minute walk back home was a bowlegged walk with my smacked ass burning and his cum running down the back of my legs. Ryan's soaking up every word of course, his eyes big behind those little round eyeglasses. My reason for telling him these humiliating early days for me is to show him he's not the only one who's had bad experiences. And yeah, I embellished my description making it even worst than it was.
"So now you know, Ryan. That's my pathetic introduction to gay sex, a time I'm not proud of obviously." He's speechless at first as I'm draining my glass of Coke and sucking on the straw making that annoying sound when the straw's only sucking up a tiny bit of ice melt. He's been leaning forward to hear every word while smelling the back of his wrist the whole time, his eyes staring into mine. I suck on the straw again making that sound like fingernails on a blackboard, as he asks, "How'd you feel walking home bowlegged after begging that fat slob to fuck you, and then him fucking you raw?" I go, "Whaddaya think? I'd hate on myself all the way home, promising myself I'd never do it again." Then I do some more sucking on the straw making Ryan frown at me. Heh heh, I don't blame him for frowning, I hate when someone else does that straw thing I'm doing. Pulling my empty glass away from me, still leaning forward, he whispers, "But you did do go back again, didn't you? You went back to fat Carl's a couple days later begging him to do it all over again, right?" He's relating to all the times he went back for more
mistreatment from some dominant sadist. I tell him, "Yes, a couple of times, but I was determined to get control of myself so I lasted longer and longer before I'd give in to my 'need'." Back to smelling the back of his wrist again, Ryan asks, "What happened then?" I shrug, "Then I met Willie Worthington and he helped me get over fat Carl. I knew what I was doing was destructive and just plain wrong, so I did something about it. That's the point, knowing when it's gotten out of control and time to quit." Ryan nods his head, "Uh huh, That's the part I didn't 'get' until you helped me with fuckwad."
We think about that for a minute as Ryan unconsciously sucks on my straw making the same annoying sound I made, so I pull my glass away from him, saying, "That wasn't the end of it though. More like the beginning of the end. There were four or five times over the next couple of months when both Willie, who knew fat Carl and his cousin, and me would tentatively accept an invitation to one of the older guys' cookouts or sex parties. It would start out okay with some drinking, but then fat Carl and his cousin would take us to Carl's bedroom and make Willie and me get naked. They'd fondle our privates a little and then Willie and I would get on our knees to suck the cocks of the two older guys. They'd swat our heads as we sucked their big cocks. Then when they had enough of that, Willie and me still on our knees, would lay our chests on Carl's bed with our asses up so Carl and his cousin could take turns fucking us. They'd switch back and forth, Carl fucking Willie and then he'd pull out of Willie's ass and shove his sloppy boner up my ass fucking me, and then they'd switch back. No condoms either and when his cousin and Carl had blown a couple of loads up our asses they'd spank the shit out us and tell us to scram. We'd have tears running down our faces and cum running down the back of our legs as we quickly got dressed and scurried away with our roughly fucked, smacked asses dragging behind us. All the older guys at the cookout or party knew what had happened and they'd all be mocking us as we ran by them as they calling us faggots and laughed at us." Ryan goes, "You and your friend kinda got off easy. Didn't any of the other older guys want to take a turn fucking you and the other kid?" Shaking my head, "Nah, just fat Carl and his cousin. Willie and I were under age so the other older gay guys didn't want to get involved."
Letting that sink in, Ryan's smelling the back of his wrist again with me trying not to laugh at him picking-up Dougie's habit from me, and then it becomes like an unconscious thing. It's not easy to stop once you get in the habit... heh heh. Ryan's like, "What happened then, Dylan?" I shrug, "We felt like shit afterwards and wouldn't go near those two for months, but eventually Willie would talk me into one more party and Willie saying it'll be different this time. So we went back for more, one or two times but it wasn't different. Finally we'd had all we could take and that was it." He asks, "What'd you guys do?" I shrug, "The last time we went it was like Willie and I looked at each other and said fuck this. We told fat Carl and his cousin to go fuck themselves or each other. We refused to do what they wanted and just drank their beer giving them the finger." Ryan's like astonished, "And that was it?" I go, "Not exactly. Willie and I got in a fist fight with them, calling them perverted queers, and childish shit like that. We were kicking and throwing our fists, plus throwing anything we could get our hands on. In the end it wasn't close, we won the last battle so ta speak." Ryan goes, "Holy shit! Well you won the last fight, but I guess you know that fat fuck Carl turned you onto the submissive side of sex from early on. He dominated you so badly you've basically never gotten over it." I go, "Well, thanks for highlighting that for me, buddy!" He shakes his head, "I didn't mean to be a prick about it, but he is the reason you're now primarily a submissive bottom. I thought you already knew that." I'm like, "I don't know, Ryan, it was a crazy time for me because I was only seventeen. Hell, I didn't even know I was gay until the first night fat Carl forced himself on me.
The reality that I was gay made me a little nuts. I knew immediately he was right about me being homosexual and it blew my mind I'd suppressed that from myself for so long. It was like I'd missed out on some good years of sex too." He asks, "And you've been catching up ever since, huh?" I shrug, "I just don't know about that, but I tell myself that occasionally. Maybe that's it. Or, it could be I'm just a tad oversexed through no fault of my own because I was born this way." Rationalization is helpful at times.
A busboy asks, "You two finished?" Wondering how long he's been at our table, I look up into one of the cutest tough-guy faces I've ever seen. Stammering, "Um, what, ah, that is, yeah we're finished." Ryan's wetting his lips, the tip of his pink tongue sliding across them, his eyes just about popping out of his head at this incredibly cute kid about sixteen or seventeen years old. He leans over the table collecting the dirty dishes leaving a faint odor of BO behind, but it's sexy smelling boyish BO. Everything about him is just about perfect. Big shiny emerald green bedroom eyes, light brown hair in a recent tight buzz cut, a too-cute nose and sexy lips I'd love to feel on mine. There's a pale peach fuzz mustache on his upper lip and a flat dark beauty mark on his pinkish-white creamy cheek. His name tag reads, 'Randy', which is how Ryan and I are feeling from staring at him. Balancing dishes on top of each other he walks away muttering, "Fags," under his breath, but just loud enough so we could hear him. I guess he heard some of what Ryan and I were saying. We watch him disappear into the kitchen, then I look at Ryan, "He said fag, right? Do you suppose he's British and he's going to have a cigarette?" Ryan chuckles, "No, I believe he mean 'fags', like in American slang." I go, "Huh, well he's too young for us anyway." We get pie and coffee, then split the bill with Ryan putting the receipts in his folder.
On the way to the car parked behind the diner we see Randy and an older guy leaning against the back kitchen door smoking. They don't notice us, which is a probably a good thing because another 'fag' comment from Tinker Bell and fist would be flying along with anything else I could get my hands on. Ryan drives us the mile or so back to the Motel Six, and as we're going into our room, he murmurs, "Thinking about your fat Carl story has me horny, Dylan. I'm going to fuck you all over this room." The door closes behind us as I say, "Show me no mercy, Albert."
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are under ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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