DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION
Chapter 29
by Donny Mumford
It's Sunday night and I'm sitting in Brad's car along with him and Tim's brother, Paul. Tim is in the all night pharmacy buying condoms. An hour or so ago we had what I'd call a mellow, below average, three-way sex-a-thon: Brad, Tim, and I. It consisted of basic buddy sex 101, but it was okay. Now Brad's talked Paul into joining us. He reluctantly finally agreed but only if he can fuck, guess who? Yep, me, and Timmy's pissed about that because he says I'm his bitch and... well, it's been that kind of a goofy night. Right now I'm on the fence about another round of tepid sex, leaning towards calling it a night. Tim comes out of the pharmacy smiling and holding up the condom package. As soon as he gets in the car he starts in on his brother, "These condoms are not for you, shit-head, no offense intended, but you're not fucking my bitch!" Yeah well, there ya go, that tipped the scale for me. As soon as we get back to the house I'm taking off. I've had enough amateur-hour sex for one night. I'll give them credit though; Tim and Brad have the buddy-sex thing down perfectly, but I feel a guy with a two inch dick does not get to call me his bitch. Yeah, when Tim and I are alone doing our two minute prostate fucks his name-calling makes me chuckle. Not when he does it front of these other guys though. Nope.
At the house we all get out of the car and I say, "Sorry, guys, but I didn't realize how late it was. I'm a working man so I gotta call it a night and get some sleep. Y'all enjoy yourselves though." There's grumbling, 'Why didn't you say so earlier,' and 'What a pussy!'... silly shit like that. I just wave my hand at them like, 'Get outta here'. Naturally, as little boys will do, Timmy's giving me the finger as I drive away chuckling, leaving the windows up so I don't hear anymore of their taunts. It looked to me like there's an expression of relief on Paul's face. He gives me a little hand wave and a grin. Pretty boy with his long waving hair. Peer pressure forced him into agreeing to something he didn't really want to do, and by leaving I gave him an unexpected way out. Still, it would have been interesting seeing his dick, I mean considering his brother's two inch penis. Heh heh, I don't mean to be mean, but it does make me chuckle thinking about it. To Tim's credit though he's proud of his dick and not embarrassed by it. And, hell, it does feels good in my ass so I have a natural curiosity about his brother's penis. All things considered though, it isn't worth going through the trouble for an awkward first time fuck by reluctant Paul. Maybe another time.
Of course, anytime I have an orgasm it's not all bad, but the three-way with Brad and Tim never got especially hot. They're so familiar with each other they do sex as almost an after thought. It was casual sex in the extreme while the two of them were arguing with each other about the pinball machine. They're okay guys, but I'm not really connecting with them. I mean, they laugh at corny stuff that isn't really all that funny and, I don't know, it's like I kinda feel I'm an outsider more than anything. These southern boys are always nice to me, but it's somehow different with my boys back home. Even the younger guys in Framingham, the eighteen and nineteen year olds, I relate to better than Brad, for example, who's my age. Maybe I'm just home sick.
When I park the Mini in the garage, Ryan's motorbike isn't in it's place. His parent's cars are here though. I'm guessing Ryan's date with this Mike guy has been a success. Good for them. Walking towards the house, hoping his parents are already in bed, and then inside I find that they are. Good! Tiptoeing up two flights of stairs and into my bedroom where I can kinda feel relaxed. Neither of his parents has ever ventured to the third floor, not since I've been here anyway. It's my sanctuary. Huh, it's eleven-thirty already so I quickly do my bathroom stuff and get into bed. Then it's lights out for me both figuratively and literally. I conk out almost immediately when I turn out the lights.
I'm dreaming about being married to someone, but I don't know who. We're trying to find something that I think might be a baby. It's very bright like we're outside with me pushing a wheel barrel for no reason I can discern. Chubby's there too with a much older woman, but I don't know what they're doing. Then I see a baby carriage but it keeps moving away from us... Someone's shaking my shoulder now for real, and an involuntary yelp comes out of my mouth as a scary electric chill sizzles down my spine. "What? Um, oh Ryan! Is it time for work?" He goes, "No, silly, it's one o'clock in the morning. Are you awake?" I sit-up, "Well yeah, I am now. Crazy dream. Um, whassup?" He gets on the bed sitting crossed-legged like an Indian, his eyes shiny with a general expression of glee on his face. He says, "I thought you might like to hear how it went tonight with Mike." What the fuck? I yawn, "Oh yeah, um, how'd it go?" The moonlight through the window outlines Ryan's form, plus I can see he's smiling as he says, "Awesome! It went awesome." I nod, "Do you wanna tell me why it was awesome?" He chuckles, "Yeah, sure. First off Mike's really easy to talk to, we told each other all about ourselves." I frown, "You told him all of it?" He goes, "Well, not the stuff about my shoddy history with sex deviates. He did mention that clever lie you made-up about rumors from last summer being totally bogus... ya know, I left it at that. I mean, the rumors are true, but I'm over that part of my life. I told him about you, Rob, and me and how we all met, and why you ended up here this summer. Giving you all the credit for my personality turn-around too, which is the first thing he mentioned. You know, that I'm totally different from the way I was last summer."
He chatters on happily for fifteen minutes about Mike schooling him on how to make chicken Cog Au Vin with chicken thighs, bacon, mushrooms and red wine. They cooked together and he says, "It's sort of a stew that we served over rice. We also had a salad of baby spring lettuces with a sweet salad dressing that we also made ourselves." Ghastly sounding meal! He tells me they watched some 'On demand' TV... South Park episodes, sitting on the couch close together. Oh brother, I can't imagine doing that myself. But then the TV watching turned-into one of the best make-outs Ryan claims he's ever had, which makes me smile because he doesn't even realize that was sort of insulting to me. They had sex of course, but all he said about their sex was they both were 'versatile'. Good for them. After sex they laid naked together on Mike's bed and talked for two more hours. Ryan's glowing, saying, "Danny, I've never had anything go more perfectly than that date. Mike's coming to the baseball game Wednesday too. Oh, and get this: he golf's He has a eight handicap and that's a low handicap for a weekend golfer. You and me are invited to play a round of golf at his course this Sunday." He goes on and on excitedly and as I listened the thought occurred to me that I just might be witnessing the beginning of the first miracle I know about. To wit, Ryan falling head over heels in love with someone other than me. No more guilty feelings for misleading him about love. I can just be his side-sex partners like fate has had in store for us all along.
I tell him sincerely that I couldn't be happier for him, and then jokingly add, "Um, it's just that this late night chat about your first date seems a bit girlie, don't ya think? Something girls would do." He laughs, "Now that you mention it, yeah, I guess you're right. Jeez though, I had to tell somebody and you were elected." I mutter, "I'm flattered. Um, maybe you're showing a bit of your feminine side. That's suppose to be a good thing I'm told. Sounds like bull shit to me, but ya know, that's what they say." He laughs, then says, "Fuck my feminine side, but thanks for listening. Hell, Danny, I owe you so much for being here for me this summer. Everything's changed for me, thanks to you." Shrugging, I go, "So all's forgiven?" He shakes his head, "Well no, you're still a prick for blowing-up our plans of a lifetime, but now Mike's somewhat got my mind off that." Perhaps my mention of a miracle was premature. Still, he did say that last remark while grinning, as if he's just kidding. Just kidding, but with some truth to it too.
Thankfully he finally begins yawning and mumbling something about it being just about time for some sleep. Very true. There's no kiss goodnight, just a rub on my head, as he says, "I have a feeling this could be the start of something big." I go, "That's a line from a song, isn't it?" He goes, "Fuck if I know. See you in the morning," and with a final wave he goes down the secret staircase. Huh, something might turn out right for once, and I mean for both of us. Damn, it's so timely though it's almost unbelievable. Obviously Ryan's date sounds corny as hell, although I would have liked to hear
a few more details about their 'versatile' sex. Taking a deep breath I'm cautiously feeling good about this latest development. This stroke of good fortune may lessen or even eliminate what may have been some awkward days ahead for Ryan and me. Anyway it's like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders, as the saying goes.
Waiting to drift off to sleep again I'm checking myself to see if I'm jealous and conclude I'm not. Still, I can't help but wonder how much of Ryan's successful date had to do with him deciding ahead of time the date was going to be a success one way or another. I mean because I reneged on our plans. Well, I made a quick hundred and eighty degree change of mind when I met Robby Friday night, so maybe Ryan did the same thing tonight as regard his feelings for me. He's done loving me and on his way to loving Mike, which suits me fine as long as Ryan and I can continue our side-sex. I can't conceive of surviving another five weeks depending exclusively on Timmy for buddy-sex. Sex with him has been a novelty and that's okay assuming there's 'for-real' sex happening too. And Ryan does for-real sex awesomely. I'm pretty fuckin' sure there's no way Ryan can be satisfied with sex once or twice week with Mike. No fucking way!
Ryan continues his upbeat good mood even after a short night's sleep and it's a pleasant atmosphere in his bedroom this morning. No stilted conversation or awkward silent periods. It's smiles and, 'How you doing this morning, Danny?" Then during the drive to work, Ryan says, "Getting dressed I was thinking about me waking you up last night and babbling on about my date with Mike." He laughs, "It was a girlie thing to do. Embarrassing now that I think about it." I go, "No problem. I was happy for you," and he says, "I knew you would be because you're nice. What isn't nice is me forgetting to say I'm happy for you and Rob. That's what I should have said yesterday afternoon." Huh, things are working out better than I could have hoped for? Trying for cool, I go, "Thanks, Albert, and I hope we can still be the best side-sex buddies ever." He goes, "I don't know about that," and we both laugh. Huh, I assume he was kidding. He goes, "You'll like Mike. He's unassuming and basically a real nice guy." I ask, "How about his past love life?" Ryan goes, "He broke off a relationship, a two year relationship with his roommate at college. That happened just before the end of their last semester." I go, "Oh fuck, that must have been an awkward last couple of weeks for the roommates." Ryan nods, "Yeah, but the guy was cheating on Mike like crazy. Mike thought they were in love, but the other guy turned out to be a sneaky bastard talking about Mike behind his back, shitting on all the plans they'd made together." I mutter, "That's a shame." Hmmmm?
Truth is I've heard all I need to hear about Mike, so I have nothing more to say about him and the topic fizzles out. Ryan parks, saying, "Run this report up to Josh Day's office for me. If he's not there drop the report in the bin on his desk labeled reports. I'll see you in the lunch room." I take the manilla envelope, mumbling, "Sure," and after getting past the ID check points I go upstairs and down a long corridor to Josh Day's office. He's at his desk looking up when I knock on his door frame. He goes, "Is that Wilcox's report?" I nod my head and he says, "Good. You're, um..." and I go, "Danny Newman," and he mumbles, "Newman, right." I drop the envelope in the basket and Josh holds up a folder, "Take this over to the Administration office and tell Burt Swigert he needs to review the entire folder this morning." Balls! I mutter, "Yes, sir," and take the folder. In the hall I ask a black woman where the Administration office is and she gives me a big smile. "Well, sugar, y'all got yourself a hike. It's on the other side of the building," and she points to a diagram of this building on the wall, tracing where I need to go. Looks like a maze. I thank her, then finally find the administration offices but not before getting lost. Then I get lost on the way back too, so when I finally find our lunch room I barely have time for a quick coffee.
"Where ya been, Danny boy?" asks Dog, when I sit down. I go, "Running errands for Albert and Josh Day." Sammy says, "I did that last Friday and Josh had me running all over the place." Ryan chuckles as he sits down with his second cup of coffee, "That's exactly the reason I have one of my crew take the report to Josh. If I dropped it off I'd be running all over the fucking
place. Fortunately for me I'm the boss and can tell one of you worker-bees to do it." Bill Stark says, "Yeah, boo hoo, Danny. Albert had me running that report up to Josh three days in a row last week," and Sammy says, "Don't take it personally, Bill, you're the rookie," then Sammy asks me, "This Saturday, Danny?" He means this Saturday for me giving him and his brothers haircuts. I glance at Ryan and he does a slight nod of his head that it's okay, so I go, "Absolutely Sammy," then the bell goes off to start the day, me with half a cup of coffee left. Alden Smith and his younger brother Jaden are with us at the table too, but as usual they don't have a lot to say. They're friendly though and it's usually Jaden, the younger brother, who'll add to the conversation. He's nice looking and I think he's sexy too. Dog goes, "Another mothafuckin' workday begins, y'all." I mutter, "You always know just the right thing to say, Dog. You my mothafuckin' idol."
We all file out to the dock to unload yet another truck that's backed-up to the loading dock. Everyone knows what to do so the unloading goes like clockwork. I'm thinking back on a couple of little things this morning that indicate to me nothing's changed as far as Ryan being in-charge goes. Him sending me on his errand first thing this morning shows me he's my boss at work, and then me automatically glancing at him to get his okay for Sammy and his brothers to come over for haircuts shows that he's still very much in-charge outside of work too. And I'm good with that. The last piece of the puzzle will be Ryan initiating sex between us. His comment of, 'I'm not so sure of that' when I mentioned side-sex during the drive to work, was hopefully a joke. I mean, we both laughed so I assume it was supposed to be funny. If we get our side-sex percolating again we'll be right back to the way we expected this summer to play out. The only remaining goal is for me to act more maturely, and in the past twenty-four hours I feel I've made a good start with that.
Done with the unloading, Dog and I work together logging in the stuff we unloaded. He's giving me smirks every now and then, finally asking, "You and Albert have a fight or something?" I stop what I'm doing, "Why the fuck would you think that?" He shrugs, "Dude, you're not doing those puppy dog eyes
at him today." Talk about perceptive! I squash that correct observation as if it were a misconception, "No! We don't fight. It's just that we're in the process of, um, reevaluating our relationship a little." He mumbles, "Uh huh," and we leave it at that. Ryan eats lunch with his six man crew buying the 'pop' of our choice for everyone. He's still in a good mood, saying, "That truck we unloaded this morning, guys, it was scheduled for next week. That's how far ahead of schedule we are. You guys rock!" The day goes by quickly and then Ryan and I are rushing to our golf lesson. We're especially anxious to hit some balls getting ready for playing eighteen holes this coming Sunday at Mike's course.
Terry, our golf instructor, is basically tweaking our swings as we hit fifty balls with our drivers, and then fifty with mid irons. The last twenty minutes we practice chipping and putting. It's another really hot day early in July so we're pretty much dripping with perspiration by the time we're putting our clubs in our lockers. The kid who stepped on my foot after our first lesson is in the locker room sneaking glances at Ryan. Maybe hoping Ryan won't throw him down the steps again. We're changing out of our golf shoes when Ryan notices the kid glancing over at him. He stands up, asking the kid, "You have something on your mind, dude?" The kid's face gets red as he shakes his head and mumbles something under his breath. Ryan goes, "What was that?" and another head shake from the kid, but this time without mumbling anything. He looks younger than I remember and he's kind of cute now that he's not stepping on my foot. Ryan and I go up the steps to the clubhouse with me saying, "You big bully," and Ryan chuckles, then says, "He's bigger than me." I go, "You were still a bully," but I'm grinning feeling good and thinking how Ryan's been looking out for me from day one.
At the house we shower and dress for dinner; then, going down stairs together, he says, "Damn, you clean-up good," and he squeezes the back of my neck giving me a nice feeling. I say, "You too, Albert." The dinner tonight is his mother's so-called famous fried chicken with all the fixings. Actually it's probably the best fried chicken I've ever had. Pecan pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream for dessert. During the meal his father was in a pleasant mood giving Ryan a compliment about what he read in the recent month-end report from Josh Day. Then there's conversation about Marietta's town team being in first place. Mrs W. goes out of her way to mention that I played in the last win. All in all a nice dinner experience. When Mr. Wilcox isn't drunk most dinners are pleasant enough and the food is outstanding. That is except for one night last week when we had gumbo. Oh man, it was hard to get enough down to avoid insulting the chef. I managed to eat a little of it and then spread the remaining food around on my plate so it looked like I ate more than I did. I felt compelled to lie, "I just don't have a big appetite tonight for some reason. It's delicious though, Mrs. Wilcox." She gave my hand a pat telling me to eat only what I felt comfortable with. Ryan helped by saying, "It's that huge lunch you ate today, Danny. I told you that you wouldn't have much of an appetite for a dinner and mother's prize winning gumbo." My lunch that day was the same as every other day. Ryan was helping me out of an awkward situation. Gumbo blows! Later Ryan drove us to McDonalds where I had a Big Mac and a large order of fries. No mention of anything sexy from Ryan, or me, before bed Monday night.
After a routine day's work Tuesday we have baseball practice and then dinner. Meatloaf tonight, chocolate cake for dessert. After dinner we're in Ryan's room and he goes, "This is awkward but I told Mike I'd stop over for a beer. You, um, can use the Mini if you want." I go, "No, that's okay, I'll hang-out here and get to bed early. I'm still catching up on sleep I missed last weekend." He goes, "You sure?" and I nod my head, "Yeah, a night doing nothing sounds good to me." He goes, "Well, okay then," but he doesn't sound convinced, so I say, "I'm good, Albert, really." He nods his head and goes, "Well, I'll be going now." Grinning half heartedly, I mumble, "Have a good time," and he gives me a hug and a kiss on my cheek. "Thanks, Danny." I go up to my room with his scent in my head and my hand on my crotch squeezing my dick. Whoa, I'm horny! No sex from Ryan since that welcome-back sex ten minutes after I got here early Sunday afternoon. Then that less than average three-way sex with Brad and Tim. That's been it. A serious draught!
I surf the Internet for an hour reading some interesting things. Yahoo always has a lot of scientific articles, especially about space and the universe. I read them thinking they're interesting, then afterward I realize I don't really know what I read. What the fuck, I'm probably not going to be a scientist anyway. Then I text with Chubby for twenty minutes. He's at a Red Sox game with Spider. They're drinking eight dollar plastic cups of beer and bitching about the people constantly walking in from of them. There's always lots of people walking around at Red Sox games. Chubby tells me about a new misadventure of Spider's on the landscaping crew. Those two keep the guys on the crew laughing and loose. After texting Chubby I text Robby. The text is delivered, but not read. He's probably at another meeting about the Dicker's big project next year. I try surfing TV channels and find a good movie that's just starting on HBO. It's one of the Mission Impossible spy movies so I stick with it even though I'm kinda tired of Tom Cruise's act. After this heart-stopping exciting night I get ready for bed thinking that lots of guys have nights like this, and all the time too. Jesus! They maybe have sex, if they're lucky, once or twice a year. That's the reality of it for many guys my age, but fortunately I've been spoiled in that regard. Oh well, reunion-sex with Robby in less than three weeks should be something special. Before I go to sleep I realize I didn't once think about calling Tim. A two inch cock doesn't have a long shelf life I guess. It pretty quickly becomes sex that you don't go out of your way to experience.
Wednesday morning when I'm dressed and ready to go Ryan's bedroom seems awfully still. He's usually hustling and bustling around down there. I skip down the secret staircase finding Ryan still in bed sleeping. Oh fuck! Shaking him gets his eyes to open. He asks, "What?" and I tell him the time. He jumps out of bed and hits the bathroom without a word. He's out in two minutes and dressed in another minute. I say, "Take it easy, Albert, we've got time." He mumbles, "I'm so fucking hungover and dizzy I feel sick. Didn't get in until two o'clock this morning." I'm cheery, feeling rested and ready to go, so I drive us to work showing ID at the gate. After a quiet two cups of coffee Ryan whispers to me, "I feel like I'm going to throw up. Gotta go to the bathroom. If I'm not out when the bell sounds get the guys moving, okay?" I nod, "Sure thing, boss." I watch him staggering to the bathroom as Bill asks, "What's wrong with the boss man?" I say, "Food poisoning I think." Dog mutters, "Or he's hung-the-fuck-over like a mothafucka." I go, "Or that, yeah," and everyone at the table chuckles knowingly... been there, done that. The bell goes off without Albert making an appearance, but I don't need to get the guys moving because they get themselves moving.
Ryan makes an appearance at morning break whispering to me, "I've been sleeping in the car." I say, "Really? Um, check yourself out in the bathroom, boss, you look like you've been sleeping in a car." He tries grinning, then mutters, "You prick," and then with a full grin, "Lend me your pocket comb." He heads off to the bathroom while Dog and I go out to the dock for a smoke, followed by Sammy. He asks, "We on for Saturday morning, Danny?" and I laugh. "Ya don't need to ask everyday, Sammy. Saturday it is. I'm looking forward to seeing your brothers again." He says, "It has been over a month ya know." Jesus, like I have an obligation to be there when they want haircuts. I go, "Yeah, I've been terribly inconsiderate, I know that Sammy." He shrugs, "Aww, that's okay." Dog grins at me nodding his head at Sammy, and I go, "How about it, Dog, you coming over for a haircut Saturday too?" He says, "Maybe I will," but he won't. I'd really like to cut his hair. Today he's wearing it in a big afro. It looks so soft I grab a fistful and he's like, "Dude, don't fuck with my do." Ryan struggles through the day and then at golf practice he quits halfway through our lesson telling Terry he doesn't feel too good. I finish the lesson conscientiously thinking about Sunday's round of golf. Don't want to make an ass of myself.
After dinner Wednesday we have a baseball game to play, but Ryan's not going to make that either. "Tell Skip I'm sick with a summer cold or something." I drive over myself and give Skip the news. He goes, "Fuck! Artie's not here either. Jesus! Okay son, you're in right field tonight." He doesn't remember my name obviously. Who cares, I play the entire game in right field with Freckles playing Ryan's centerfield position. Freckles, aka Logan, and I touch gloves as we jog into the dugout after each half inning. Ya know, he's looking better and better to me every minute. Too bad he's straight. A guy in the stands motions to me when our team is up at bat in the third inning. I drift over to the guy, wondering who he is as I'm looking quizzically at him. He holds his hand out, "Hi, you're Dylan, right." I shake his hand, nodding my head and he goes, "I'm Mike, um, Albert's friend." Oh fuck, that's right, Ryan said Mike was coming to watch the game tonight. Jesus, he's not even the guy I thought he was. No wonder Ryan never agreed with my comments about Mike. It wasn't him. Ha ha. He wants to know, "What happened, where's Albert tonight?" I go, "In bed I guess. He's been wicked hungover all day." Mike goes, "Yeah, me too. Tell him I was asking for him, alright?" I go, "Sure, nice meeting you."
He takes off and as I'm walking back to the dugout I'm thinking he does seem nice. Watching him walk to the parking lot I'm thinking he's okay looking too except for his scratchy, bristly-looking dark red beard. I was mixing
Mike up partly with another guy from Bible study, so I had it half right. Still, Mike's one of those guys that should be clean shaven. Except for the beard, he's almost nice looking. He has nice red hair on his head, neatly cut, and an average body type, so not bad. Anyway, more importantly, like I said, he seems like a nice guy. Sometimes you can tell a person is basically a nice guy from just exchanging a few words like I just did with him. Now as far as sexy goes, um, not so much. Of course that's an 'eye of the beholder' kind of thing. Ryan thinks he's sexy and that's all that matters. The thing is, if I don't think he's sexy, especially considering my horny condition, I'm probably more right than wrong about the sexy evaluation.
The game continues with all the fly balls going to centerfield or right field tonight. Freckles and I make some nice catches, congratulating each other after each catch. We're bonding I guess you could say. We're also hitting seventh and eighth in tonight's line-up. Both of us get two hits for the night combining for three runs scored. I was on second base in the third inning and Freckles hits a rope to left field, which I easily scored on. Then in the eight inning I'm on second base again with Jeff on third. There's two outs when Freckles, aka Logan, rips a two run single up the middle. We win the game 5 to 4, and Freckles is sort of the star of the game. We're buddy/buddy with our arms across each other's shoulders walking to the parking lot after the game. He says, "Nice game for a gay boy," and I say, "Sure was, but you were the star." His car is parked next to the Mini and as he's putting his glove in the truck, I ask him, "You going with anyone?" and he says, "On and off with the same girl since last Christmas break. Why do you ask?" I go, "Because if you weren't going with anyone maybe you'd be horny and I could convert you to my team." His eyebrows go up, and I shake my head laughing, "No, ya nut, I'm kidding you. I asked because I'm interested, that's all, and it's a normal question for one guy to ask another. It's called small talk." He goes, "Yeah, you're right, except you're gay so, ya know." I mumble, "Always putting the gay boy down, huh?" He leans against his car, saying, "I feel I can tell you this, but don't you tell a fucking soul. I had a friend in middle school and we'd jerk each other off, and one time he even blew me, or started to but broke out laughing. That's the total of my nefarious secret gay experimentation. Whenever we run into each other, me and that kid, which isn't often, we both break out laughing." I go, "Yeah, well probably a majority of guys experiment with each other at some point in their early lives, and then for us lucky few we stick with it." I get in the car and he goes, "Lucky you." I'm ridiculously horny! I'll bet freckles has a big dick.
Back at the house I find Ryan still moping around with his hangover. He's in the kitchen drinking a Snapple saying, "I can't get enough liquids inside me. Who won?" I tell him and he mumbles, "Good," and he wants to hear all about it. After that, he asks, Ya wanna watch some TV in my room?" I say, "Yeah, okay, after I take a shower." In the shower I'm wondering, or is it I'm hoping, this is Ryan's way of getting us on his bed together. Showered and dried off I go down the secret staircase wearing only boxer shorts. I hear the TV, but then there's Ryan under the covers sleeping again. Fucking hangover! It had to be hard liquor those two were drinking last night, and way too much of it too. Turning off his TV and the lights, I go up and get in bed with my cellphone. I'm checking for text messages and emails. Texting and doing short emails from my iPhone for half an hour, and then I go to sleep after my third day without sex. Do guys really do this on a regular basis?
Thursday morning Ryan's still a little cranky, just beginning to feel himself again after the hangover. Normal work day except Dog and I got the silly giggles all morning. I told him about how the cute girl from the garage bar, the one without her front teeth, and the way she was lisping. It got really stupid as we both are doing our impression of lisping. Childish, so that didn't do much for my maturing process. I blamed it on D'george. After work Ryan and I have our golf lesson and then dinner at the house. "What are you doing tonight, Albert?" I ask as we're cleaning up the kitchen. He says, "I thought I'd run over to Mike's and apologize for not being at last night's game. He skipped a card game he and some of his friends have at their different houses week to week. Poker is the game, and Mike says a couple of hundred bucks can easily change hands each night. It's not dime/quarter poker like we played at Merrimack." I nod my head, "Yeah, okay." He starts to say something, then asks, "Do you want the Mini tonight? I can take the motorbike." I shrug, "Yeah, if you don't mind. I'll check out the mall, kill some time." He goes, "You could call Timmy or Brad," and I go, "Nah, I might call Jeff." He laughs, then says, "No, do not call my boy, Jeff." Smiling at him, I go, "I'm not up for Timmy, that's all I'm saying," and he points at me, "Don't call Jeff!" I mumble, "No problem, I'll catch you later." He looks at me for a couple of seconds, then mutters, "Okay, but I'm calling Jeff right now and telling him he's not allowed to go out with you." I wave my hand at him. I wasn't calling Jeff because he already sort of turned me down saying he's Albert's boy. Fucking southern gay boys, y'all.
After he takes off on his motorbike I lean against the Mini thinking how this summer got off to a fast start for me side-sex-wise. First there was sex with Brad after my first Sunday at church, and then a couple days later a three-way with Timmy and Brad during break at Bible study. Then sex with Jeff and Timmy at the gay club, but since that good start it's been basically nothing. Well, except for Tim a few times. Mostly just the hot sex with Ryan, and that was pretty much all I needed. If our sex hadn't been so hot I might have connected with another gay Marietta guy. The thing is, I'm not much for initiating sex the first time with anyone. The closest I ever come to suggesting sex to a guy for the first time was me asking Freckles if he's going with anyone. And he's straight! That was a desperation move with zero chance of anything happening. Well, maybe not zero, but very close to it. Still, I'm determined not to ask Ryan for sex and I'm not yet desperate enough to call Tim or Brad. I hate initiating first time side-sex anyway and, like I said, I never do it. Yeah, although I'm quick to take someone up on it if they mention sex, assuming they're attractive in some way. So far I'm happy to say I'm not getting snippy from lack of sex, and that's mature of me. Yep, I'm my normal affable self always ready with a smile and something nice to say to all. Heh heh, that's me alright.
Walking through the mall makes me feel even lonelier than my normal loneliness this week. That's mostly because everyone's with someone. Some are with groups of guys and/or girls and some with a friend. I might start feeling sorry for myself if this bullshit life continues for much longer. I'm not sure if Ryan's being vindictive leaving me alone like this, or if he's just clueless how rude it is. Wait a minute, I could have asked Logan what he's doing the other night instead of asking if he's going with someone. Then maybe hang-out with him. What, am I all of a sudden dependent on Ryan for friends? Fuck, he wouldn't have any friends in the first place if not for me! Okay, I sense I'm getting bitter, and I never get bitter, so stop it! Wandering through Macy's I buy a pair of black skinny jeans and a cool sleeveless t-shirt. Ya don't see a lot of sleeveless t-shirts for sale anymore. Buying this stuff makes me feel better. I'm parking the Mini back at the house at a little after nine o'clock. When I'm in the house I hear Ryan's parents talking over a Bruce Springsteen CD in the library. The tinkling of ice in glasses indicates to me they're having some libation along with their conversation. It easy to tip toe up the stairs without them hearing me, and then another night in my room alone. This must be how Ryan felt all last summer.
Then it's Friday morning and Ryan's in a really good mood, but it's my turn to be less than cheerful. I'm feeling funky and a little down, but faking half a smile. The faking doesn't get past Ryan though, "What's wrong, Danny? You seem, um, out of sorts. Where's that cute grin of your's?" I won't give in and say why I'm not real happy about this past week, instead I'm like, "No, I'm good! Looking forward to the weekend mostly. Do you have anything planned?" We're carrying our lunches to the car with Ryan saying, "Yeah, tomorrow morning I'm doing haircuts for you three, and then you've got Sammy's brothers coming over." He backs the Mini out of the garage, the top down, as I mumble, "Yeah, and then our two o'clock baseball game tomorrow. Are we still golfing Sunday with Mike at his course?" Ryan goes, "No. His course turns out to be a public course and with weekend golfers we'd be looking at a six hour round of golf. I called Terry and we have a one o'clock tee time at our course. Mike's never golfed at a private country club, so he's pretty excited about it." Well, we've got the days accounted for Saturday and Sunday, now how about the nights?
Ryan has nothing to say about the nights so I don't either. At Saturday's ball game I plan on asking Logan what he's doing Saturday night and maybe hooking up with him. Tonight maybe I'm finally desperate enough to call Tim. I'm just not use to running solo. I like doing stuff with guys, not entertaining myself. Speaking of entertaining myself, I'm kinda proud of myself that I haven't resorted back to the pre-gay days of jerking off four times a day. I don't think I've spanked the snake three times in the last three years. I refuse to let my sex life deteriorate back to those days. Then at work nothing unusual happens all day and I'm actually surprised when the bell goes off ending the week. Time flies when you keep busy. I'm slapping palms with the guys walking outside to the parking lot, wishing everyone a good weekend. I yell over to Dog, "Ya need directions to my house, Dog?" He smiles, "I'll find it, mothafucka." Sure you will. Sammy asks for the tenth time, "Is ten o'clock good for you tomorrow, Danny?" I ruffle his hair, "Yep, Sam, see you and your brothers then, dude."
As usual Fridays after work I'm smoking a cigarette in the parking lot waiting for Ryan to finish up his week-end report. Taking my paycheck out of my pocket I like reading the $575.00 following the 'Pay to...' and then my name. My name is Dylan Newman on the check, not Danny. Ryan sticks his head out the door, "Come here, Danny," so I trot over, "Whassup, Albert?" He hands me the Mini keys, "Get the air conditioning running in the car. I'll be another ten minutes at most." I do that, then finish my smoke. Maybe I should come right out and ask Ryan what are his intentions for our side-sex the rest of the summer. Well hell, I'm down to my last four weeks of Marietta life. So fuck it, I'm not gonna ask Ryan anything. If I have to, I can make do with Tim and maybe Brad the rest of the way. Hey, maybe pretty-boy Paul still wants to fuck me. I've got options, but it means I need to initiate something myself. Tim hasn't called all week and the previous week I was the one who called him. That was last Sunday as a matter of fact and doesn't count as initiating sex for the first time obviously. We've done it a half dozen times previously. It's not like back home where I received a few more invitations then I get here. These southern gay boys aren't especially outgoing. Good thing I wasn't born in the south.
Out comes Ryan, but it's more like fifteen minutes later, not 'ten at the most' like he said. He's smiling, "Good week, Danny. It gives me a hard-on writing out the reports for Josh. We're kicking this project's ass!" We drive downtown to deposit our paychecks and get back a hundred dollar in cash. That's way more than I need for incidentals during the coming week. I've got more money in the bank now than I had at the end of last summer. Two reasons: one, I'm making a lot more, and two, I don't spend money for food or almost anything down here. In Framingham money flies out of my pockets. Back at the house drinking Cokes in the kitchen, Ryan says, "Mike's working at the deli tonight, but I promised Jeff he and I would get together for a bit after dinner. I don't know, sometime around eight o'clock. I don't want to spend the whole night with him though 'cause he's too immature. So, um, do you wanna hook-up after that and we can do something together?" I nod my head without seeming especially enthused, although I am, "Sure, I guess, Albert. What'll we do?" He chuckles, "Still being stubborn, huh? That's okay, cause we couldn't do anything in the house with my parents staying in for the night. We'll catch a movie or better yet watch the summer basketball league at the school grounds. Just doing something together." I go, "Alright," and we both go to our bedrooms to shower and get ready for dinner.
Friday night dinners are rare because Ryan's parents often eat at the club on Fridays. Not tonight though, so Mr. W. asks me to say grace. We hold hands and I rattle off one of three I'm memorized and then we're ready for dinner. Out of the blue, Ryan says, "Father, how about if Danny and I have wine with dinners from now on?" His mother says, "I thought you didn't like wine," and Ryan goes, "We've acquired a taste for it, before dinner drinks too for that matter." His father rolls his eyes, and in a bored manner, says, "Daniel, get yourself and Albert wine glasses out of the cabinet behind you." I do that as his father adds, "You'll be twenty-one next month, both of you I think. Is that right, Daniel?" I say, "Yes, sir, I'll be twenty-one in August." Ryan says, "My birthday's this month, Father." He sighs, "Oh yeah, I knew that," as he pours us both a glass of Merlot to go with our lamb chops." The conversation during dinner, as we all drink our wine, is cocktails. What cocktails they like and what we like, and what Ryan's mother and father think we might like that we haven't tried yet. Apparently talking about adult beverages is a popular topic in this household. His mother and father drink every night and sometimes at lunch. I can't conceive of ever doing that myself though.
It was kind of a cool dinner though, after which Ryan changes into shorts and a Polo shirt, then rides his motorbike to Jeff's, telling me, "I'll be back in an hour." I nod my head and watch him take off, then wander to the gazebo for a cigarette. All indications point to Ryan throwing Jeff a quick fuck, and then making an excuse as to why he can't stay longer. Then he'll be riding back here and we'll do something. He inferred I'm being stubborn. He meant I'm too stubborn to ask him for sex like I was prone to doing previously, and he's right, I am stubborn about that now. Fuck it! Where sex is concerned I know him as well as he knows me, and he's missing our hot sex together as much as I am. So if he wants it, it's him who needs to bring it up. That's all, just mention it. He doesn't need to beg or nag for it. Ha ha, this fucking willpower of mine is scaring me a little bit.
After my cigarette, I try sneaking up to my room but get caught by Mrs. Wilcox. "Ah, there you are, Daniel, join us in the library." Balls! I walk in and hear a CD by a band I don't recognized. Both Ryan's parents have golden-brown colored drinks in short, heavy crystal glasses. His father asks, "Would you care to join us for an after dinner drink?" I go, "Um, I don't... I mean sure, thank you." Mrs. Wilcox is smirking, "Brandy, Daniel?" Hmmm, Ryan and I drank a bottle of their brandy. It was from the back of the cabinet. The stuff they're drinking is probably better than that. "Brandy would be fine, thank you." We drink brandy as they quiz me on how things are going for me here in Marietta, and between me and Albert, with me giving polite
generic answers with a positive slant to all their questions. Quite a bit of lying is required to pull this off convincingly. I've perfected this evasive maneuver from years of Chubby and me being questioned by the moms. They gave up questioning us about personal matters a couple of years ago. Both of Ryan's parents are very chummy tonight and it's sort of a interesting forty-five minutes, and two brandies, before Ryan walks in looking surprise, even shocked. Mr. Wilcox takes a deep breath, then says, "We're getting your boyfriend drunk while pumping him for information." Ryan grins nervously, probably wondering what I've been saying. He asks, "Is Danny telling any of our secrets?" His mother says, "No, he's very clever at talking sweetly around every probing question we asked him." Ryan goes, "Good, what y'all drinking?"
He has a brandy with us talking about work and how well it's progressing. Then we talk about golf and how Ryan's mother wants Junior, that what she calls Ryan's father, to set up a tee time so the four of us can play a round of golf together. Mr. Wilcox doesn't appear thrilled with the idea as he mutters, "Yes, dear, we'll see." Then his father goes on a rather long and somewhat pompous explanation about how one goes about being successful in today's business climate. My eyes glaze over as Mrs. Wilcox grins at me and gulps down some more brandy. Finally Ryan says, "Well, thanks for the brandies and the good advise. Danny and I are going to watch one of the late summer league basketball games at the school." I thank his parents for the drinks and, a little boozily, we're on our way out. Ryan says, "Let's grab a smoke and then we'll take the bike for a ride before checking it at the basketball courts." It's nice sitting in the gazebo with Ryan again having a cigarette. I'd like to ask what, where, and how did he fuck Jeff before returning to the house, but that's not what we do. Ryan says, "Man, I can't believe how little I've seen of you this week, outside of work I mean." I shrug, "Yeah, well you've been busy." He puts his arm across my shoulders and hugs my side against his, "Is there anything you want to ask me, Danny?" He's grinning so I find myself grinning back at him, as I say, "Nope," then, "Oh wait, yeah, I want to ask you if we're taking golf carts Sunday, or using pull carts?" He laughs, "Neither, we'll carry our golf bags. Carts are for old fossils." I go, "Oh." His body feels nice so I don't pull away.
Finished our smokes, Ryan goes, "Okay, lets take a ride." As we're walking to the garage, I mumble, "Ya know, I didn't see basketball courts at the school. Just the football and baseball fields, are we going to a different school?" He goes, "Same school, the basketball courts are on the other side of the building. Nice ones too." Inside the garage, as Ryan's passing me my helmet, he sees the toiletry kit with the barber tools, and asks, "Hey, how
about I give you your haircut now? You can sleep in tomorrow morning." I shrug, "Um, I don't know." Robby thinks I can just say 'no' to Ryan's haircuts and Ryan will go, "Oh, okay." That's not how Ryan operates. He sees me hesitating, and says, "Yeah, we'll do it now. Take off your shirt and get your ass on the stool. We'll get it over with tonight." My dick moves in my pants as my haircut fetish awakens and roams around my brain, taking it over. Rubbing my nose I'm looking at Ryan, still hesitating. He says, "Shirt off and your cute ass on the stool."
He's taken the clippers out and plugged them in, so I pull my t-shirt over my head and walk over to sit on the stool. He goes, "Don't slump like that!" I sit up straight with the back of my hand at my nose when the clippers are turned on making that barber clippers sound. It's funny but I can't make myself complain about this. I guess I'm programmed, or more likely I still
feel a little guilty about blowing up all those plans we made. Ryan pushes my head roughly over to my left shoulder and then runs the clippers up the right side of my head. He's always cut hair too fast. Less than two minutes later my head's pushed forward so my chin's hitting my chest, held there by Ryan's left hand as the clippers are finishing up the back of my head going over the crown and on top a few inches towards the front. My cock is so hard it aches. I love and hate my haircut fetish simultaneously. Ryan's been dominantly giving me this haircut for over three months now and because of the familiarity of the process I no longer automatically spontaneously cum in my pants. Occasionally it still happens, but not this time. I'm short of breath and very stimulated in a sexual way from Ryan's dominant hair cutting. I've got the hard boner, but when he's finishing the haircut using the trimming clippers there's only a spray of precum in my pants. "All done for another week, Danny." Like always, when he's done I'm feeling my head. There's like this humiliating-scalped-embarrassed feeling being dominated getting a haircut like this. It always makes me feel put in my place by Ryan, which is why he does it. I also feel very vulnerable and submissive to him after these haircuts. "Clean the clippers, Danny, and put the stuff away."
He rubs my head roughly, chuckling, "I got ya good this time, didn't I?" and he pushes my head, "Clean the hair up too." My eyelids are half closed as I go about the clean up.
With my boner refusing to go down I put everything away as my submissive trance leaks away. I'm thinking maybe I'll give in and suggest we have a hot fuck after all. I'm so horny and halfway to an orgasm as it is. No, I won't let myself do that, I've got my pride. I should at least tell him he's not
keeping his part of the bargain though. My part is to let him be in-charge this summer so that he'll impress his parents that, gay or not, he has leadership abilities. I also helped him overcome his rumored-reputation from last summer so he could meet and become friends with some of his Marietta peers. Lastly I supported him on the job. All of these things I've done much better than I expected. For his part he was to do good sub/dom sex and be in-charge generally, and somehow I'd learn to be more mature. The mature part is on me though, and I've only lately begun working on that by realizing my childhood fantasy is just that, a childhood fantasy that has little to do with reality. That's a synopsis of the plans we made prior to this summer. Where Ryan's not fulfilling his part is the sex part. If he can't see that then fuck him. I'm not asking.
After running that through my brain I'm out of my submissive fog and feeling a little pissed-off. Ryan's sitting on his motorbike watching me. I zipper up the toiletry kit as he asks, "Why the sour puss, babe? And don't you dare tell me it's because of your haircut." Looking at him, I'm shrugging, "No, not at all. I've got only four more of your haircuts coming to me, and then that's it, no mas, as our Spanish speaking friends say." He goes, "No more, huh? I thought you said you'd want me to continue with the haircutting if I stopped using the clipper up on top of your awesome head." I say, "Changed my mind." He gets off the bike grinning, "You're pouting, ain't cha?" I grin back, "Nope, no pouting. Let's go watch some basketball." He comes over putting his hand on my head, smirking and asking, "No hat for you tonight?" I almost gasp with desire, his face is so close to mine. I shake my head at his 'no hat' question. He says, "I've never known you to be this stubborn before. Not about this." I croak out, "Whaddaya mean?" He rubs his nose against mine, a little grin on his lips, murmuring, "I give in, you win, please give me a kiss." My first inclination is to swallow his tongue, but instead I mumble, "Okay, since you asked,' and our lips come together. His magical tongue has it's way and my arms go around him and his around me for a long wet open mouth kiss as we hump our hips together and then grind them. His gently humping hips, and the kissing turns my dick into a stone statue.
My fingers run through the hair on the back of his head as our faces move against one another spreading our spit all around our mouths. We're hungry for one another. Ryan's up on his toes with his hands on my buttock squeezing and pulling our cocks together. We both finally gasp for air then lick each other's mouth. He reaches down and yanks my shorts past my hips, then my
underpants. This is lust for me, not love. It's so obvious to me now I can't believe I mistook it for love as recent as a week ago. Ryan squeezes my bare ass until I grunt, "Ow!" He turns me around keeping a hand on my shoulder as he pulls his big cock out, then changes his mind I guess because he turns me around again waving his cock at me. I drop to my knees taking his cock in my fingers, then suck that big fat thing into my mouth. There's lubricant residue on it which throws me for a second before remembering Ryan was fucking Jeff earlier. So, he uses a condom with Jeff, and I guess with Mike too. His cock was firm enough to fuck with when I put it in my mouth, but I guess Ryan wants a really hard boner to do me up right. "That's enough, Danny. Stand up now."
One last suck on the bulbous head of his cock gets me a few bubbles of precum, then I stand up and look at Ryan. I'm panting like a dog in heat as he gets a hand behind my head pulling it down to him and gives me one of his special kisses as precum drips from the head of my cock to make a quiet couple of drip sounds on the cement floor. Ryan slowly turns me around and then the wet head of his cock is pressing against my asshole. No condom for Ryan and me. He humps it in past my sphincter, then gets both arms around my belly pulling me back on to his boner as he pushes that big hard cock way up inside me, then gives a final thrust against my butt cheeks as he grunts, "Umpth," and I go, "Aaaah, oooh." It's the pain, but my rectum hasn't forgotten this cock in only five days. It adjusts in less than a minute and then I'm going, "Mmmm, Albert, your cock feels so good up my ass." He nestles the side of his face near my ear, "I missed you. Doesn't my cock feel good, Danny?" I nod my head, "Uh huh, feels good, really good." My boner is already sticking straight out from my groin pulsating and my balls are hot, hard, and heavy. Ryan says, "We do good sex together, don't we, baby?" I nod again breathing through my nose to keep from moaning like it's my first time being fucked.
Ryan pulls that big dick back with me shuddering and quietly moaning. Awesome sensations sparkle off my prostate as that fat cock's shaft passes slowly and very tightly by, and then when the engorged fat head moves partially over it my head goes back on his shoulder as I shudder again, now I can't stop moaning out loud from sexual pleasure. Five or six tantalizingly slow trips of his hard cock up and then all the way back, then in expanding the walls of my rectum like scratching an unbearable itch. With each slow thrust Ryan's sucking air in between his partially closed lips making almost a whistling sound. He murmurs, "Oh Danny, this feels like home, my friend," then, "Here we go," and it's the sound of music, "Slap, slap, slap, slap," now as he does fast fucking in my opened-up asshole. The fat cock creates almost unbearably hot sensations around my anus and over my prostate as my hard boner throbs. I can picture in my head Ryan's big boner disappearing up my ass shiny with his precum that's spread over it. And here it comes back out with the big vein bulging, the swollen head halfway way out before sliding tightly and disappearing back up inside me. Ryan's cock is the only thing in my world right now. There's nothing else but this indescribable sexual pleasure. Harder, faster, thrusting now, "Slapslapslapslap," and my back arching as I squeal humping my hips and a six foot long string of cum shoots straight out from my quivering wide open pee slit hitting the table where the barber stuff sits. More hard thrusting from Ryan and another three nice spurts of cum shoot from my super-sensitize hard penis.
I'm shaking with my body feeling tinkles all over, then another shudder. Leaning over I grab my knees gasping with dizzying pleasure-sensations that are buzzing and rippling around my belly and lower down, then it fades and my vision clears. All that's left is a wonderful feeling of contentment, plus my jolting body from Ryan's continuing hard thrusting. His awesome cock still feel good up my ass even after my orgasm, but he soon gets to his point of no return holding my ass tight against his groin humping against my butt cheeks shooting his load into my bowels. I feel it hit and tighten my sphincter muscles doing another little shoulder shudder. Ryan's breathing loudly, catching his breath, then humping against me some more before he leans
over, his chest on my back as he murmurs, "There's no boy pussy better." We breathe noisily together for a bit before I straighten up, saying, "Wow, I needed that, Albert." He swings his arm and, "SMACK!" rings out as my ass quivers and stings. He goes, "If you needed it so bad why the hell didn't you say something ?" I grin, "Because I wanted you to." He rubs my head, mumbling, "No shit, I knew that, but you're simply too sexually delicious. I couldn't deprive myself of your perky ass any longer. I salute your stubbornness by the way." I say, "It's my world-renowned willpower that outlasted yours." He chuckles, then says, "Now you've gotta clean-up this mess you made. Jesus, is all that cum your's?" I go, "Yeah, I was horny." Ryan wipes some of his cum off my ass and then gives up pulling my pants up and patting my ass. I can feel his cum immediately wetting through my underpants. It feels good. After wetting a rag at the garden hose on the side of the garage, I drop the rag at the beginning of my cum streaks, then use my foot to wipe up most of it. Picking up the rag, "Is this okay, Albert?" Ryan looks at the floor, then points at the table with a cum streak on it. I go over and wipe it up. "We good, Albert?" He says, "Yep," and I toss the rag in the trash.
Ryan's sort of put back together, then tells me, "Danny you gotta change your pants, partner. My cum has leaked through your shorts, and I think I'll go in and wash my dick. It's sticky." I shrug, and then from habit follow Ryan inside and we go up to his bedroom. Dropping my shorts and underwear, I ask, "Can I wear a pair of your underpants and shorts? I don't feel like going upstairs." Then I add, "Hey, I'm still getting little thrills from that great fuck you laid on my ass." He nods his head at his bureau and I pull
open the first drawer and pick-up the top pair of underwear and pull them on. I like wearing other guys underwear. Is that immature, do ya think? I don't know, I think it's sexy. Ryan's in his bathroom so I go through another drawer and chose a pair of his shorts and put them on too. Ryan comes out and smiles, shaking his head, grinning at his clothes I'm wearing. He rubs my scalped head again, saying, "See what happens when you don't bitch about the haircut. Good boys get fucked." I go, "Yes, daddy." He grins goosing my ass, "Come on, sexy, lets watch a little basketball. Some of those guys are really good." Going down stairs together he takes my hand and after a few steps drops it, saying, "Oops, I forgot we're not boyfriends anymore." I say, "I don't mind if you hold my hand," and he just shakes his head. He can't go halfway with anything. Man, that sex felt good though! I stare at him thinking he's pretty special. In the garage, I hug him from behind, saying, "It's okay if you want to do that again, 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. (Or buy the 'print' version.) 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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