DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION
Chapter 30
By Donny Mumford
Ryan and I clean-up, grab Cokes, then drive to Marietta High School to watch some Friday night basketball. Marietta summer basketball is an informal league consisting of four-player teams. They come from surrounding towns to play full-court games for neighborhood bragging rights. African Americans dominate college basketball and the NBA, and to a lesser degree the same holds true for these games played on a blacktop court under the lights. The teams consist of high school and college players plus other local talent, meaning older guys who never played organized ball past high school. Some of them have the talent to play college ball, but not the grades. The games are fiercely competitive with a lot of hot-dogging and trash talking. We join the vocal spectators surrounding the court three and four deep, none of whom are shy about cheering-on their neighborhood team. The two referees are muscular college coaches who take a lot of shit from the players and give a lot of it right back at 'em. It's mostly good-natured trash talking but fights aren't unheard of on the court or in the stands. It's an exciting and electric atmosphere on and off the court.
We got here late so there's no good vantage point around the court, but then we hook-up with some guys from Bible study who are sitting on the steps to the gymnasium above the basketball court. Good spot to watch the action, plus they've got a cooler of beer that they're sharing with us. No fights tonight but some good games. After the last game we're driving back to the house with the Mini's top down. I'm thinking, or maybe hoping, that things between Ryan and me are back on track. As it turns out though neither of us mentions anything about sex before bed, so maybe things aren't back on track. Prior to last weekend we'd have sex at least twice a day and then this week we had it exactly once, one time the entire week, and that was earlier tonight. From habit, I follow Ryan into his bedroom. He's friendly enough but claims he's tired and can't wait to get to bed. I've made a vow to myself to stop being the one who mentions sex, so I go upstairs and get ready for bed myself. I half expect Ryan to come up the secret stairs and hop in bed with me, but the next thing I know I'm waking-up Saturday morning hearing faint voices in the driveway.
Getting out of bed I look out the window on the garage side of the house and see Jeff and Timmy leaning against Tim's SUV talking and laughing about something. Ryan comes out the side door carrying a mug of coffee and they all do half-ass one arm hugs, then Ryan opens the fourth garage bay door and the three of them disappear inside. It's another haircut Saturday morning. I feel my bristly head remembering Ryan saying last night after my haircut that he got me good this time, and he did too. He got me good in a bad way as far as I'm concerned. There was a kid I knew who worked at Stop & Shop a couple of years ago. He had a haircut that someone basically just used bare clippers over his entire head. Not a shaved head exactly because the clippers left like a sixteenth of an inch of bristles. Each haircut Ryan's gives me gets closer and closer to the Stop && Shop boy's haircut.
Back in bed I'm acknowledging that Ryan's haircuts symbolize his dominance and I don't totally mind that because of both my stupid fetishes: the haircut and submissive ones. Both feature into the extreme haircuts. The thing is though I need to stop patronizing these fetishes. They're like an anchor to my childhood fantasy inhibiting me from maturing. Or at least I think they are. On the other hand, there's a very real possibility I'm making too much of the maturing topic. It's Robby I care about pleasing, him and Chubby. Neither of them seem the least bit concerned about me maturing, whatever maturing even means exactly. I'm just being myself basically, for better or worse. It's mostly me who's hung-up on maturing. Hell, Ryan's the only one who's ever claimed I'm immature. And, I'm beginning to think this arrangement with Ryan actually is preventing me from being more mature. Our arrangement plays into my submissive fetish with Ryan bossing me around, and I'm finally getting tired of it. Hell, I've helped Ryan accomplish more with his problem situations then either of us hoped for, but what's that done for me? It's like a one way street, and while he's progressing the right way it feels like I'm going the other way.
It's indisputable that he's purposely ignored me most of this week, then threw me a bone last night. The bone came after he first established his dominance giving me something close to an induction haircut. I'm aware many Armed Forces around the world use induction haircuts so trainees will begin losing their identity, their individually, and a lot of their free will as well. Willie used to do that extra-short haircut thing with me too. Yeah well, I've been noticing similarities between him and Ryan more and more lately. It's taken me five weeks of living with Ryan 24/7 to begin recognizing that fact. That's probably because Ryan's less obvious and more clever with his handling of the sub/dom stuff, both during sex and then after it too. He's patient and more low key where everything with Willie was over the top and immediate. Things weren't going his own way so in Key West he jumps off a balcony to almost certain death on the stone patio below. Ryan punishes me for my rejection of him a little more subtly by ignoring me all week. And he knows damn well I have nothing to do at nights because basically I'm a stranger in a strange land.
I'm sort of a captive here and therefore very dependent on Ryan. Well, last week I turned the tables and waited him out. I mean as far as who would bring up the topic of sex. Come to think of it though, he never said the word 'sex'. He asked for a kiss and he knew one thing would lead to another. Still, we both know who won that battle. Yeah, unless it was Ryan giving me a taste of sex last night so I'll remember what I'm missing, then he goes right back to ignoring me again. What are his plans for this Saturday night, or any night next week for that matter? Until this week it's been kinda cool living my old fantasy, but I should probably start thinking about shutting it down. With Willie I shut it down after two days or so, but this is a different situation because Ryan and I laid out a plan together, and my 'word' is involved. I gave my word to spend nine weeks here. I've kept my part of the bargain this far and Ryan's kept his until this past week. If there's no side sex, or hardly any, then that's my ticket out of town. On the other hand maybe it'd be good for me to get weaned off daily side-sex? Yeah, it probably would, but in a year or two, not now. Fuck that! Robby even agrees to a little buddy side-sex every now and then. So we'll see, but this morning I start the count down on the side-sex. The fucking-clock is ticking.
As I'm doing my bathroom stuff I decide not to mention the ticking clock to Ryan because I want to see how he plays it the next few days without me threatening to leave. Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, wearing socks and sneakers, I go downstairs for a coffee. I'm actually looking forward to Sammy and his brothers showing up for haircuts a little later because cutting guys' hair is fun. Walking into the kitchen and, oh joy, Ryan's parents are sitting where they always sit around the kitchen table. Unusual for them to be up this early on a Saturday morning. We exchange morning greetings. Mrs, W. give a smiling 'Good morning, Daniel. Beautiful morning," and Mr. W. waving a finger at me as he bites into a cinnamon bum. I smile and say, "Good morning," then pour myself a mug of coffee, say 'no thanks' to the offered cinnamon bun, and carry the coffee out to the garage. In the garage there's music playing from someone's smart phone. Timmy's watching Jeff get his haircut. When he sees me we grin at each other muttering, "Wassup?" as we do the one arm hug routine with me being careful not to spill my coffee. Tim's already been shorn by Ryan so we do what we always do and rub each other's head, like dopes. He goes, "Another cool haircut, huh, Danny?" I mumble, "I wouldn't go that far, Tim," and he's like, "Really? You don't think this is cool?" I shake my head and Ryan says, "He's being a malcontent, Timmy. Don't listen to him." It occurs to me that I'll soon be twenty-one while Timmy and Jeff are eighteen, so maybe it's an age thing. If I just graduated high school I might think a bizarre haircut like this one is cool because it's so bed-ass different. Yeah, but most guys outside Parris Island, where they have no choice, would not chose a haircut like ours. Spider thinks it's a cool haircut too and he's my age, but he's also a nonconformist and a bit crazy. Plus, I don't see him asking for a haircut like this. No, it's Ryan showing us three guys who's boss and lately I'm not liking it all that much.
Jeff's not as enthusiastic about his haircut as Ryan indicated to me he was last Saturday. As Jeff gets off the stool feeling his bristly hair, he's shaking his head slowly showing an unhappy expression. I go, "Not loving this haircut anymore, Jeff?" He shrugs, "I don't know. I'm beginning to think I might not want to go to college in the fall looking like this, but I guess for the summer it's alright." He glances over at Ryan, mumbling, "And Albert likes it. Um, so ya know." Ryan's all smiles coming over to give me a little hug, "Good morning, Danny," and he pulls Timmy over to stand next to Jeff and me. "My boys!" he says, and takes our picture with his smart phone. I roll my eyes and he chuckles, saying, "Oh come on, Danny, smile." Rubbing Jeff's and my head, he's chuckling again and enjoying himself, saying, "I love giving you guys these haircuts." Then excitedly, he tells me, "Hey, I'm treating Tim and Jeff to breakfast at the Pancake house. Do you wanna come, Danny?" Looking at my watch, "I better not. Sammy and his brothers will be here in a little while." He goes, "Suit yourself. Um, would you mind sweeping up in here for me? We wanna get going." I go, "Huh. Really? Um, yeah, I would mind sweeping up. I'll sweep up after Sammy and his brother's haircuts." Ryan gives me a stare, then says sternly, "Get the broom and sweep
up, like I told you." I do a forced chuckle, then say. "Fuck no, I'm not sweeping up. I did it last night, okay?" He nods his head, mumbling, "So you
did," then more forced cheerfulness, "Well, lets get some pancakes, boys." Tim and Jeff are sort of staring at me, not use to hearing me saying 'no' to Ryan, um, Albert. It felt good actually and what's he gonna do about it anyway?
They get in the Mini and Ryan starts the engine, then pleasantly says to me, "Don't forget we have that game at two o'clock." Like I'd forget. I nod, "Yeah, I'll be ready," and he asks, "Um, how about if you and me get lunch somewhere around one o'clock?" I say, "Sure." He grins, "I'll be back around eleven," and he backs the Mini out of the garage and off they go. Huh! Me thinks Ryan was trying to save 'face' by pretending to the youngsters that my awful insubordination of refusing to sweep-up didn't bother him. And label 'awful insubordination' as deep sarcasm. Sweep-up, my ass! I have a smoke in the gazebo bolstering my resolve that another week like this past one and it'll be my last one in Marietta. The thought of going home gives me chills. I've always told myself they'll come a point in any relationship involving sub/dom behavior when I'll say, 'NO!' and maybe I've finally reached that point with Ryan. I'm not trashing the whole summer experience because I had fun for the most part, but when it's not fun that's the end, and thank you very much. Maybe this is the beginning of the end or maybe it's the beginning of Ryan recognizing he's losing his power because he's taking things too far. Eliminating most of our sub/dom buddy sex also eliminates his right to be bossy with me. Ya know what... there's never any of this kind of shit with Robby. Or if there has been I don't remember it.
Sammy's early, as he usually is for everything. I get a nice greeting from him and his brothers. Major wants to be first for a haircut and I worry he'll bring up his gay concerns again, wanting advise from me like last time. False alarm though because it never comes up. He wants the same haircut, but other than telling me that he's silent. Nothing like the talkative boy I remember. I almost ask him if he's okay, but don't because that might be his opening to bring up the gay topic. Instead I tell him about last night's basketball games and he brightens up saying he was at the games last night along with Sammy and Golden. Lots of people were there so it's easy to understand how we missed seeing each other. We talk about a few of the outstanding dunks and he seems fine now. All the brothers seem fine. Sly and Lester tell me how they want their hair cut, and Sammy wants a flat top again. Then, just like last time they all treat this like going to the barbershop. No hanging around afterward, it's just, 'Thank you, Danny,' and they're on their way. I like that! While sweeping the floor I'm smiling because I like those kids and I like giving them the haircuts they ask for, not ones I force then to have.
After sweeping up hair clippings, I clean myself up in my third floor bathroom and then text some guys back home. Ryan comes in my room a little before eleven o'clock. He's still all smiles asking me how it went with Sammy and his brothers. Just two barbers discussing their cliental, and I'm being sarcastic again. Ryan is being nice though, very friendly although no mention of sex. Well, the waiting game begins again on that front I guess. Later we eat lunch at Subway with no mention of my refusing to sweep up like Ryan told me to do, and then we're off to the baseball game. When the game starts Freckles and me are on the bench screwing around again. He's seems sexier to me every game. I ask him, "Seen your girlfriend recently?" and he grins, "You're always coming on to me, huh? Y'all is hung-up on me so bad you're embarrassing yourself." I laugh, and he goes, "No I haven't seen her recently, and anyway she's not my girlfriend, per se." I ask, "What is she then?" and he does a elaborate shrug, "I don't know, Danny, she and me just go out once in awhile." Nodding my head, "Just for sex, huh?" He blushes, mumbling, "You know, oh man, jeeeez..." He's fun to tease, but I don't think there's a girl in his life at all. Maybe I'll make Logan Duran, aka Freckles, my summer project and be his sex mentor, heh heh. Nah, just kidding.
Our team's winning so there's lots of chatter in the dugout between innings. Then it quiets down when our nine players take the field. Freckles goes, "Hey, Danny boy, don't ya have anymore sex questions for me?" I nod, "Yeah, Freckles, how many times do you jerk off every day?" He laughs, blushing, and says, "Usually twice." Ha ha! I go, "Okay, so once in the morning and once before going to sleep." He's staring at me with a grin on his freckled face, and I'm like, "I assume you jerk off into a sock to keep your sheets from getting messy, right?" He's grinning, shaking his head slowly, so I go, "Okay, here's what I'm gonna do for you. As a primer for your introduction to gay sex I'll do your mornings jerk off for you. What time do you get up?" More laughing from him and then we notice some hubbub on the diamond and play has stopped. We look over and see the guys standing around our second baseman who's name I can never remember. A yellow haired boy with no chin and a chipped front tooth. The skipper's out there checking something out. One of the pitchers on the bench says, "I think Malcolm sprained his ankle making the pivot to first." As Malcolm's helped hopping on one foot towards the dugout, Skip is motioning in Freckles' and my direction. I'm not sure if it's me or Freckles so we both stand waiting until he's close enough to say, "If you're done grab ass-ing with your buddy, Thirteen, grab your glove, you're at second." Grab ass-ing with my buddy? Thirteen? Obviously he doesn't know either of our names.
I jog out to second base and the very first batter hits a scorching line drive at my head. In self defense my glove comes up and. "Wham!" the ball smacks into the pocket and I casually toss it to the shortstop who throws it back to the pitcher, saying, "Good reflexes, Danny." I shrug nonchalantly. The rest of the game goes good for me too. I start a double play, me to Gary at short, then over to first base. Bam, bam, bam! In between innings Freckles says, "For a gay boy that was a pretty good double play you started, Danny boy." I go, "Please, son, I'm concentrating on the game. I'll give you an autograph afterwards." He laughs. Logan laughs at everything I say. Maybe I'm picking up on Chubby's delivery. Chubby could make reading a dictionary funny. We win the game which keeps us in first place. Freckles says, "By the way, I get up around eight o'clock. See you then," and he pats my ass. Damn, I wish he were gay! Hey, maybe he is, or at least he's beginning to become intrigued with the idea.
Walking to the car with Ryan, I ask, "What's on for tonight?" He goes, "Jeez, Danny, ya probably think I'm gonna abandon you again tonight, right? Well, it's true that Mike and I are going to a party at his cousin, Phillip's, place tonight. It's like an hour's drive from here, but you're included. Mike's trying to get a date for you." Oh, a gay party. He takes hold of my arm so I'll stop walking, and says, "I know I've been fixated on Mike this week, but he and I think we have something special going on between us. You've been on your own after dinner this week and I apologize for that. Anyway, even if Mike can't fix you up with one of his cousin's gay friends I hope you'll come with us to the party anyway. Whaddaya say?" Oh goody, I can be the third wheel. I go, "Um, yeah sure, thanks for inviting me." The thought of not having anything to do on a Saturday night sucks. There'll probably be other guys there without a date, and actually I'm happy this Mike thing is working out for Ryan.
When we're back at the house drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette in the gazebo, Ryan's phone rings. It's Mike and when Ryan ends the call, he says, "Okay, Mike's cousin says a gay friend of his is bringing his brother to the party. The brother is maybe bi. He's not real sure, but he might be. Anyway you can hook up with him, okay? Mike didn't know the kid's name." I shrug, "Maybe, it depends," and Ryan goes, "At least you're coming with us though, right?" I go, "Yeah, I guess." I can't be sure of this, but I'm guessing that the 'No!" I told him in the garage this morning has Ryan second guessing himself. He's been real considerate and nice to me since then. As I always say, we'll see.
At the table for Saturday night's dinner there are wine glasses at Ryan and my places. We're having one of my favorite dinners that Mrs. Wilcox prepares. Prime rib of beef with rebaked Idaho potatoes. There's also side dishes that get passed around. After dinner we have old fashioned strawberry shortcake for dessert with the reddest, sweetest strawberries I've ever had. I'm bloated by the time Ryan and I are cleaning up in the kitchen. He says, "That was some dinner, but I wish I never brought up the wine thing. It ruins my taste buds for food." I chuckle, saying, "I'm with you on that, although wine is suppose to enhance the taste of the food. At least I think it's suppose to, or why else have it?" "Fuck if I know, Danny." We both change clothes before going to the party. I've tepid expectations tonight. I mean I'm not expecting sex at all, I'm just hoping the party doesn't totally suck with me trying to make small talk with strangers I don't even like. Good party or bad I'll be stuck there until Ryan and Mike decide to leave, and then it's an hour's drive home so somebody needs to be sober enough to drive.
It's another hot night so I'm wearing tan cargo shorts and a sleeveless white t-shirt with a short-sleeve patterned, button-up shirt over the tee, unbuttoned of course so my cross necklace shows. Very cool with brown Sperry top-sider boat shoes on my feet... no socks obviously. With my earrings, my big sport watch on my thin wrist, my leather bracelet, and the cool friendship ring Robby gave me for my last birthday and, dude, I'm too kool for school. I think about wearing a hat, but that doesn't really go with everything else. Ryan's dressed similarly without the 'bling'. I glance at his slightly hairy calves thinking, hot! With the top down we drive over to pick up Ryan's date, Mike. At Mike's apartment I go in with Ryan. I'm curious about a couple of things. When Mike answers the door he and Ryan do a kiss on the lips. That's one of the things I was curious about. The apartment is the other thing. It isn't as neat as our Merrimack apartment, but looks about what I'd expect a young single guy's place to look. Kinda messy, cheap furnishings with an expensive TV on the wall.
Mike says, "Holy shit, Danny, you make the rest of us look like shit." I say the joking comment I always say to compliments like that, "Yeah, everybody tells me that," and he laughs, and exclaims, "Well, it's true. Fuckin' good looking dude too!" This time I grin and says, "Thanks, man, you too," racking-up one more little white lie. Mike asks, "Um, anybody interested in a little front-loading before we head out?" Ryan goes, "I believe it's mandatory, isn't it?" Mike goes, "Yeah, God forbid you should go to a party sober." Then he asks me, "Shot and a beer okay for you, Danny?" I say, "What could be better?" He has Bud beer and VO whiskey. We drink on the balcony smoking cigarettes. Ryan and Mike chuckle about some of the things they've been experiencing during the honeymoon phase of their relationship. Then to bring me into the conversation, Mike asks, "So Danny, how's your first summer with us southerners going so far?" I tell him it's been fun and then I mention the fair I was at last week with my brother. Mike tells us he's been to the fair, but not this year. Neither of them mentions that my true love, Robby, was at the fair with me, or that Ryan and me are fuck buddies. I know Ryan told Mike all about us on their first date because he told me he did, and he undoubtedly told Mike about me reneging on our plans. I mean the plans Ryan and I made this summer, and not the ones we made prior to this summer at Merrimack. I'm sure he told Mike about the haircuts he gives me too. I say that because Mike neither mentions my hair nor looks at it. For all I know Ryan's told Mike about the way he ignored me all last week too.
Mike's maybe an inch taller than Ryan. Plus, like Ryan said, Mike does indeed have blue eyes similar, but not as spectacular as mine... or Robby's, ha ha. He's a neatly dressed guy with a fairly short regular hair style featuring a part on the side, sans pompadour. I do not like his dark red bristly-looking beard though, but other than that he's conventionally nice looking, which personally I've always considered a boring look. Still it's better than not being nice looking at all. Mostly he's a nice congenial twenty-two year old guy without affectations of any kind that I've noticed so far. He smokes although it appears he picked up the habit recently because he does it sort of like a nonsmoker, or dare I say, a girl. Not that he's girlie at all other than that. Judging from the half hour I've been with these two I can't say either one is being dominant or submissive. They appear to be, as Ryan described them, versatile in sex and in all other ways as well. No forced or phony shows of affection although Mike's a guy that likes to touch the person he's talking to. Just a tap on the arm or back of a hand. Actually Ryan and Mike seem like two guys who have known each other a lot longer than seven days. So far there isn't anything negative I can find to say about them. Good for them.
We drink for an hour or so. Each of us consuming a modest two shots and two beers, but it's enough that we all loosen up a notch making things seem funnier, or cooler, or more interesting than they probably are. In short we're all feeling fine and now we have an hour's drive to Mike's cousin's place. That's not too cool, but whaddaya gonna do? Mike offers to sit in back, which is nice of him, but I insist he sit up front with his date, although I don't say, 'with your date'. It's a very blustery hour's ride in the back seat of the convertible, but not completely unpleasant. We find the one-floor ranch style house where the party's taking place and park at the curb a block away. Getting out of the car we smell barbecue grilling going on. I'm still full from dinner but maybe I won't be later. Mike tells us to walk around back instead of ringing the front door. As we walk along the side of the house I smell something else besides barbecue, pot. What's a party without some joints being passed around? Club music with the big beat is playing at a reasonable volume and there are two couples dancing on the large deck coming off the back of the house. Counting us three there's about sixteen guys here so far, all supposedly gay or bisexual. Everyone's drinking something alcoholic, mostly it looks like mixed drinks or wine, although I see a bottle of beer in at least one guy's fist.
Phillip, Mike's cousin, comes right over to us. Mike and him hug and kiss quickly. Right off I can tell Phillip has most of the affectations normally associated with a stereotypical depiction of homosexuals. He speaks with what I've heard referred to as a 'gay accent', meaning he lisps, characterized mostly by 'syllabic' S's. He's slightly campy and a little swishy, but seems nice. Phillip's looking at me, saying to Mike, "So this is Albert, huh? He's beautiful!" Both Mike and Ryan laugh, then Mike says, "That's Danny, this is Albert," and Phillip blushes covering his mouth with both hands. Then he goes, "Oh, I'm so sorry! You're beautiful too," and he hugs Ryan. Awkward start. Phillip takes hold of Mike and Ryan's hands, and with them either side of him, he takes them round introducing them to the other guys here with me trailing behind. I need a fucking drink!
There are a few other flamboyant types but mostly the guys are more or less like Ryan, Mike, and me. I mean you wouldn't immediately think 'gay' when meeting us. Some of the guests are in their thirties and one gay couple are even older than that. There's been no mention of Phillip's friend who's gay, or his brother who might be bi. He's the one who's suppose to be my date. Finally Phillip gets around to showing us the bar at the corner of the deck nearest the sliding glass door to the house. He lisps, "Make yourself anything you want and it's wonderful to see you, Mikey, you're looking sweet, boy. So preppy and all." I'd guess Phillip's closer to thirty years old then twenty. For Ryan's and my benefit, he points to a door to the left that leads inside the house, saying, "Right inside, before the kitchen, the first door on the right is the little boy's room." As Phillip's filling a plastic cup with white wine, Mike makes a gin and tonic while Ryan and I fish a bottle of Corona out of an ice-filled tub and force a little wedge of lime past the rim of the bottle.
Two new guests arrive, and Phillip's thrilled, "Oh, here come the Walsh brothers! Mikey, look at George's hunky date!" We all glance over as Phillip gushes, "That's Ronny, the one with all the muscles, ooou!" Waving a limp wrist he yells, "Hi Ronny!" Ronny frowns and Mike asks, "George? Who's George?" Phillip takes Mike's hand leading him off the deck, saying, "You silly thing, you met George at the Christmas party. Come on," then, to Ryan and me, "You boys coming?" He drags Mike over to meet George and Ronny, his hunky date. Ryan and I exchange glances like, 'What the fuck' and saunter off the deck a few feet behind Mike and Phillip. It's obvious the Walsh brothers are twins of the identical variety, and I'm guessing the twin without the hunky date is my blind date. Not bad. The twins are kinda tall, over six feet tall. The one holding hands with the stocky, macho looking dude has a ponytail of light brown hair. The other twin has long wavy hair that hangs loose, and he runs his fingers through it across his forehead every ten seconds or so getting the hair off his face. From here he looks kinda cute. They're both slim, um, make that skinny with both of them wearing baggy shorts and extra large untucked Polo shirts. Wavy-hair's shirt is blue and ponytail's is green. Wavy-hair is wearing sneakers without socks, and ponytail has on flip flops.
Phillip and ponytail kiss and then Phillip introduces Mike, "You remember Mike, right, George? From the Christmas party?" George goes, unconvincingly, "Yeah, sure. Um, whassup, Mike?" They bump fists as George says, "This is my boyfriend, Ronny, and that's my brother, George-too." George too? Phillip introduces Ryan as Mike's boyfriend and then looks at me, saying, "Ooou, I'm sorry, sweetie, I forget your name." I mumble, "Danny," and give a little hand wave at the new arrivals. That was my introduction. Mike's says to me, "Um, how about showing George-too where the bar is, Danny." Smooth move getting the blind dates together. I shrug at George-too, that I later find out is spelled, George'tu, as in George'tu Walsh, although everyone pronounces it like two separate words. He's was born four minutes after George. The fuckin' names parents give their children!
George'tu follows me, saying, "We're suppose to be blind dates, huh?" He has a very mature-sounding voice although he looks younger than me. I go, "I don't know, I'm just the third wheel along for the ride," and I explain my status as Ryan's house guest, working for him at Lockheed-Martin. At the bar he pours himself a shot of tequila and flashes it down, then opens a bottle of Corona and says, "Me and George are identical twins, and he's gay obviously. We're still trying to figure out if I am too." I swallow some beer, then ask, "Ya don't know if your gay? Um, that probably means you are. Just saying..." Shrugging, he mumbles, "I don't much care one way or the other." He lights a pencil cigar motioning for me to follow him to two deck chairs. Sitting down, I ask, "Don't you like sex?" He says, "I don't know yet," then he adds, "You're extremely attractive, Danny, but you already know that. Why the ridiculous haircut?" I nod my head toward Ryan, saying, "Albert's my barber and we have a deal that he can cut my hair anyway he wants." He looks over at Ryan, mumbling, "Fucking prick is what he is. He's probably jealous that you're about ten times better looking than he is." I go, "That's probably it, yeah. How about sex?" He grins, and oh my God, what a cute
grin, as he goes, "Jesus! Are you asking me for sex already? We've only been blind dates for five minutes. Let me get some booze in me first!" I laugh, "No! dude, I wasn't asking for sex. I don't ask for sex, hardly ever. You said you don't care one way or the other about being gay so I asked you if maybe you don't like sex." He holds up a finger, "One time with a girl. That was last year, my junior year, and one time with a boy, Mark Kelso. Neither experience was all that special. And ya know what, I think boy's and girl's pussies should be exclusively for sex. No pissing or shitting out of those openings."
He takes a big drag off his cigar, finger-brushes his hair out of his eyes, and while exhaling makes four smoke rings. I chug-a-lug half a bottle of beer. I don't know what to say about his pussy comment. Finally I say, "Well, there's condoms to protect your dick from piss and shit." He grins again, mumbling, "I was kidding you, man. I don't give a fuck about that, heh heh. Jesus!" Just to be sure he's old enough, I ask, "So you're a senior in high school, huh?" He laughs out loud, "No, I'm going to be senior at Duke University, what the fuck? High school! I'm studying for a degree in engineering." I'm like, "No shit! Engineering, huh?" He's got one of those birth marks or moles or whatever they're called on his smooth face. It's on his left cheek. Little round brown spot, a beauty mark. George'tu is very fair complected with bright brown eyes and narrow eyebrows. I like natural thin eyebrows and probably nobody else in the world cares about that. From the side, his long curvy eyelashes look sexy too. He isn't especially cute up close, but I like his face. It's kind of longish like Willie's and his nose is straight, very much like Tom Brady's nose, heh heh. Noses fuck-up more guy's appearance than anything else. Girls too for that matter. He has skinny arms totally devoid of any noticeable hair although he has some hair on his calves. Nice long legs that would feel good wrapped around my waist. Big feet too, although I know that doesn't necessarily mean he has a big dick. That myth has been debunked many times.
Bottom line: he's uniquely cool looking now, although in later years he might not age very well in the looks department. He might look like an engineer. For shits and giggles, I say, "So, have you always liked trains? Always wanted to be an engineer?" He snorts out a laugh, then mutters, "No, you retard, ya don't go to Duke to learn how to drive a train." I go, "I'm pretty sure the word 'retard' is miles from being politically correct nowadays." He looks at me, "Are you serious?" and I go, "Not usually, no." Shaking his head slowly while smiling, he mumbles, "Some blind date I got here," and that makes me laugh. He pats my shoulder, "Have a shot of tequila with me, and we both need another beer." As we get up, he asks, "Do you dance?" I go, "I can square dance," and he laughs, muttering, "Worst fucking blind date ever," then he gooses my ass.
We stand at the bar and do a horrific shots of tequila, chasing the shot with beer. He tells me about the spelling of his odd name and I tell him my name isn't Danny, and explain why 'Dylan' got corrupted into 'Danny' by Ryan's mother. He thinks I'm bull shitting him at first, but when he believes me we both laugh at the oddness of that situation. We've got screwed-up names in common, although we're both used to our names by now. Hell, he's had twenty-two years to get used to his. I ask him if people can tell him and his brother apart? He goes, "We were known as shit and shinola as kids because some retards claimed they couldn't tell us apart, but un-retarded people can." I go, "How?" and he says, "George has a ponytail." I'm shaking my head, "Oh," and we do another shot.
I don't know where Ryan and Mike got to, and other than Phillip and George'tu's brother, I haven't been introduced to anyone else. It looks like me and George'tu are on our own. He's a pleasant enough guy, occasionally funny, and like I said I like his face. On the other hand his body's not hot and he has kind of a flat ass. We grab a plastic container of honey roasted peanuts and another beer before going back to sit in our deck chairs. Eating the peanuts, drinking our beers while smoking, he tells me what it's like being an identical twin. He goes, "I don't know, but George and I have never been devoted best friends like I've heard other identical twins are. We get along about as well as most brothers, but we have different interests. He's always loved music and couldn't care less about sports while I'm into sports, especially college basketball and pro sports. He plays the piano, guitar, and drums. I took lessons for piano like George for a while as a kid, and if anything I was better at it than him at it." I ask, "So why'd ya give it up?" He shrugs, "Practicing was boring. I gave it up to play basketball, lettering from my sophomore year on. George is good at sports too, but didn't like going to practice. We're fucked-up like that."
I go, "Well, you're both good at music and athletics, but you have a difference of opinion about what's worth practicing." He goes, "Yeah, but I think it's because somewhere around age twelve I decided I wanted to be different than George, so I picked sports after he choose music. We're both smarter than hell too, ha ha! Aren't we obnoxious?" I'm like, "Um, well, yeah you are." He laughs again, then asks, "What's your story, Dylan?" I tell him about the unusual childhood Chubby and I lived through, and that we have the same father but different mothers." He goes, "Oh, you're your agnate siblings," and I go, "Yep, but very few people know that word." He taps the side of his forehead. I mumble, "Yeah I know, you're an egg head." So we get along okay because he's easy to talk to and I like him even though it's getting annoying how frequently he finger-brushes the long hair out of his eyes. I go, "Ya know, if you gave me half the length of your hair we'd both be fairly normal, hair-wise at least." He rubs my head, "You have a pretty shade of blond hair and it feels almost soft even though it's so short. With his other hand he pushes his lanky hair out of his eyes again. I tell him, "You need to come inside with me so we can find some scissors." He laughs, "I've always had long hair. I get it cut like twice a year," and I say, "Exactly like George, huh? I thought you wanted to be different." He shrugs, "Ya got me there, Dylan. Lets see what smells so good over at the grill."
George'tu piles a plate with grilled chicken, potato salad, and barbecue baby back ribs. I get six baby back ribs, a few chicken wings, and only a dab of the potato salad because it looks like it came from a supermarket. I'm not actually hungry but figure, considering the booze, I should put some more food in my stomach. We eat at our deck chairs complimenting the ribs and chicken. I was right about the potato salad and only have one fork full of it, but George'tu, not being a food critic, eats all of his. Then hunky Ronny comes our way and George'tu mumbles to me, "Oh, oh, here comes Ronny. You'll probably notice pretty quickly he isn't a lighthouse of intelligence." When Ronny's in front of us, he frowns asking, "Have you seen, George?" We both look around shrugging as George'tu says, "No, not since we got here, Ronny." Hunky looks concerned, frowning again, "Well, what the fuck am I suppose to do now?" George'tu's like, "Um, call him on your cell phone maybe." Ronny goes, "Oh, good idea," as he wanders away with the phone to his ear. I mutter, "Yeah, he's no Wizard of Oz, huh?"
After we finish eating we dump the trash then suck on our fingers that are sticky with barbecue sauce. He says, "Lets go inside and wash our face and hands. I've got this sticky shit all over me." As we walk to the deck I'm looking at the guys here that number about twenty four by now. All gay or bi, huh! The party's noisy with laughter and conversation, one tune after another coming from the speakers. I have no sense of anything nefarious about to happen. Very lively group although I don't see anyone drunk yet. One guy does have an annoying high pitched giggling laugh, and I'm betting it's Phillip. Other than that it's a decent enough group of gay guys. I ask George'tu, "Do you know Phillip very well?" He chuckles, "Phillip the fairy? Yeah, he's a good guy with maybe more than his share of the feminine side." Making our way around the dancing couples on the deck, we walk into the house and go right by the half bath into the kitchen where we wash our hands and faces at the sink and then dry with paper towels. First thing George'tu does now that his hands are free of barbecue sauce is finger-comb his hair out of his eyes. I go, "Lets find a pair of scissors and I'll cut those fucking bangs so they don't get in your eyes." Surprisingly he starts opening kitchen drawers, muttering, "There's gotta be a pair of scissors in here some where," then again with the finger-comb. Actually I'm kinda taken aback, asking, "You're actually gonna let me cut your hair?" He goes, "Yeah, why not, we're buddies, right?" I go, "Huh, yeah I guess." He comes up with a pair
of scissors and holds them up so I can see them, "Whaddaya think?" I take the scissors and check them out. They look really sharp. I read the label out loud, "Fiskar eight inch titanium all purpose scissors. Yeah, they'll do fine." I take out my trusty pocket comb, then ask, "Do you think we should do this in the kitchen? You know, hair clippings in a kitchen." He goes, "No, we'll go down stairs to the basement, but first another shot of tequila."
I bring the scissors with me outside to the little bar area telling him, "Ya know, I'm actually an accomplished barber. Been cutting guy's hair since I was twelve. Here's the thing though, you didn't know that but you didn't think twice about me chopping away at your hair. Why is that?" He pours two oversized shots in plastic shot glasses, saying, "Oh, I was just going to have you cut the bangs so it doesn't get in my eyes. Now that I know you can cut hair you can do the whole haircut. We'll bond as life long friends." I'm never sure when he's putting me on, but this may turn out to be my favorite blind date ever. Of course that's not saying a whole lot since I think I've only had one other blind date in my life, and I can't even remember who it was. After downing the shots, with me on the very edge of throwing up, George'tu chuckles handing me his bottle of beer and I guzzle some down. "Not an accomplished shot drinkers, huh Dylan?" I go, "No, I'm not real accomplished, not even close," and I burp up some horrid tequila, so I take more gulps of beer as a tear runs down my cheek. I don't know why my eyes tear, but they do. George'tu uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tear and we look into each other's eyes for a couple seconds. It makes me do a little grin at him, almost like asking, 'What?'
He says, "Follow me," and we go through the house and downstairs to an unfinished basement where there's a ping pong table taking up half the space. "Do you play ping pong, Dylan?" I mutter, "Yeah, who doesn't?" He glances around, then mumbles, "I don't see a ping pong ball." I go, "Fuck the ping pong, George," dropping the 'tu' in his name. He notices and says, "My nickname's tu, and everyone has a different spelling in mind when they call me that." I ask, "Did you ever find out what illegal drug your parents were on when they gave you that name?" He laughs, "It's a southern thing to name all the boys after the father. You know George Foreman, the guy who used to sell the toaster ovens, or whatever they are? All five of his sons are named George." I mutter, "Whatever," then point, "There's the only chair down here, so we'll need to use it. Sit on that thing that looks like an old lawn chair." Then say, "You really should take off your shirt or it'll have hairs sticking to it."
He takes his shirt off, asking, "Where you from originally, Danny, um, Dylan?" I tell him, as I'm still wicked surprised at how blasé he is about me cutting his hair. I mean, I'll do a professional haircut for him, but he has no way of being sure of that. With his shirt off it's confirmed, George is skinny. His hairless chest has very little definition and I can see his ribs. His arms are skinny too, but when he moves them his bicep muscles bulg e so he's probably no weakling. His body reminds me of a marathoner's body. You know, the first skinny guys you see crossing the finish line of the Boston Marathon. They have bodies like George'tu. I ask, "How tall are you," and he says, "Six-two, same as George. Our little brother is six-four." I'd like to ask how much they each weights, but I don't because he might be self-conscious about being skinny. He sort of reads my mind, "George and I can eat anything in great amounts without putting on weight. We've always been skinny and we're worried we'll be like dad. He's skinny and tall with a big pot belly. Not a good look, but genes can fuck ya up sometimes." I have nothing to say to that, so I go, "Ya wanna sit down?"
Sitting in the chair, he says, "Our little brother is named George the Third. That's on his birth certificate: George The Third Walsh." I mumble, "Uh huh," and comb up the long hair in front, saying, "You sure it's only been six months since you had a haircut? Your hair's like nine inches long, at least." He goes, "Huh, let me think. No, not six months. My last haircut was right before last Thanksgiving break. Yeah, that's right. How many months is that?" I mutter, "Um, nine or ten I guess," and he goes, "Haircuts are not a priority in my life." I mumble, "Apparently not," as I pull the front hairs back and up. Holding the batch of hair between my index and missile fingers I close the scissors twice slicing that batch of hair twice, "Scrunch, scrunch," and a big pile of seven inch long hairs lands in his lap leaving his bangs a tapered two inches long. Not a word from George so I comb up another big pile of his clean hair further back on top and, "Scrunch scrunch," and this piles of hair drops to his right shoulder and drifts to the floor. Seemingly completely unconcerned about his haircut, he asks, "Do you play sports, Dylan?" "Scrunch scrunch," and I go, "Playground sports only, never on an organized team. Well, I'm on the Marietta summer league baseball team, but I mean never for high school or college. I'm not good enough. I can dance though, and not just square dancing, which I've actually never done." He laughs and says, "We're gonna see how good you dance after this haircut." For a guy with awesome dense wavy light-brown hair he sure doesn't seen to care about it. "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch." Wow, this is fun! How many haircuts have I done today?
I drag out his haircut, but don't cut it real short because this is enough of a change as it is. When I'm done a lot of the hairs on his head are two to two and a half inches long. Exception being the lower half of the sides and back which are a little less than an inch just touching the top of his ears. I comb through it a couple of times and it looks good. His bangs naturally drift to the side of his forehead because he's trained them that way from constantly finger-combing the hairs to the side to keep the hair out of his eyes. He and I brush loose hairs off his shoulders and the lap of his shorts. I do his shoulders and he does his lap, ha ha. As we're doing that, he says, "Damn, you got me a little horny giving me this haircut. All your touching and combing, I liked the experience." I go, "Well then, nine months from now I'll fly in and we'll do it again." He laughs, "Yeah, okay," as I look around for a broom without any luck, so working together we use a piece of cardboard as a dustpan getting the majority of the cut hairs into the trash. He goes, "That's good enough, Dylan, fuck it." He chuckles, then mutters, "Lets have a shot and a beer." He doesn't put his shirt back on, instead carries it over one shoulder. I don't know, but if I was that skinny I'd put the shirt on.
Outside we make our way around the dancers on the deck to the small bar and grab a couple of beers. George'tu says, "Oh no, come on little buddy, we need to do another shot together. Blowing out an exasperating exhale, I take the shot and throw it down, burning my throat. More tears, but I don't feel I'm going to throw up. I wipe the tears away with the heel of my hand, muttering, 'Ghastly." Carrying our bottles of beer we walk off the deck, but before sitting down I take off the button-down shirt leaving my sleeveless tee on. Comfortable in our deck chairs again, George'tu lights one of his pencil cigars and I light a Marlboro. As we sip our beers, I go, "Ya know, you're the first guy I've ever given a haircut who doesn't go right to a mirror to check it out." He runs his fingers through his awesome hair, saying, "It feels perfect, so hey, thanks, dude!" I'm shaking my head grinning. I want to yell, "Look at it!" because it looks really good. We critique some of the guys around us being super critical about it and getting ourselves into a laughing fit for a minute or so acting like we're fourteen. "It's a good thing we're so perfect, huh, Dylan?" I'm just shaking my head, muttering, "We're terrible." Finished our beers, he says, "Okay then, lets see if you can dance." Most of the gay guys are dancing now. That includes Ryan and
Mike both of whom are okay dancers, although that's maybe a little bit generous of an assessment. As were walking to the deck I see George'tu's brother dancing with macho man, Ronny. George is a very cool dancer. Effortlessly cool and his boyfriend is good too, especially considering he's muscle-bound. George'tu's twin points at my George's head giving a thumbs-up vote of approval. Huh, that makes me feel good.
On the deck we find some room and get into a groove with the beat. George'tu dances exactly like his twin brother. They're both very cool dancers making it look like the most natural thing in the world. Other guys simply can't do it. We work our way through a few hot tunes and then lean against the railing cooling off while watching the other dancers. He says, "You're a pretty good dancer, Dylan. How'd you learn to dance?" I tell him about the hours Willie spent teaching me to make smooth and natural moves with the music. He tells me he and his brother were about thirteen when they decided they needed to learn how to dance. They watched instructional videos while dancing with each other for hours and hours. Now they have a talent to last all their lives, dancing's fun. Ya know what, I think the twins are tighter than George'tu admits. At one point when we're dancing near the original George and macho-Ronny, we switch off and the twins dance with each other while Ronny dances with me. As we danced, Ronny asked, "How old are you?" When I tell him, he mutters, "Bull shit alert," and that was the extent of our conversation. One more dance with George'tu and we grab fresh ice-cold beers and go back to our seats.
Lighting a cigarette, I go, "That was fun, but you danced circles around me. You and your brother make it look so easy." He mutters, "Thanks, man," and after talking about some of the guys who don't have good moves on the dance floor he goes on to tells me some funny stuff he and his brother did together growing up. It's pretty much the normal identical twin shit. Mistaken identities by those unaware they're dealing with identical twins. Part time jobs where they'd switch off as they felt like it just to mess with someone. In grade school the flummoxing of substitute teachers where one of them would come into the substitute's class and switch with his brother when the substitute wasn't looking. The class would know and be snickering, but the teacher wouldn't have a clue. That sort of typical stuff and more. Listening to him and looking at him I realize I really like this guy.
We gotta take a piss so we're back inside standing together pissing in the toilet with me gawking at his long cock. It's the longest cock I've ever seen in person. I don't say anything though because it could be misconstrued as me hinting we should have sex. As a general rule I don't do that. Perhaps that partially because I'm afraid of rejection or maybe because gay guys often ask me, so I don't need to ask them. Whatever, I don't feel comfortable asking for sex with someone I've never done it with before. George'tu to the rescue right on cue. He stammers, "Um, I'm not sure how this is supposed to work. That is, ah, shouldn't we maybe fuck around together somehow? I mean, assuming you're interested in a skinny tall drink of water with an awesome haircut." I chuckle, "You haven't even looked at the haircut yet." He puts his long dick away and zippers-up, "I know, but George saw it and gave it a thumbs up so that tells me all I need to know." I shake my noodle getting the last drip of pee off, then zipper-up, asking, "What kind of messing around do you have in mind?" He's washing his hands at the sink, "I don't know, Dylan. What's the normal way to start?" I'm standing next to him washing my hands too and looking at him in the mirror, yelling, "Goddammit! Look at your fuckin' haircut!" He laughs, "I saw it. It's awesome like I already told you."
Someone knocks on the bathroom door so we exit and see two guys making out on the wall next to the door. They stop when we open the door and the one with a full beard asks, "Did you boys do anything in there you'd be afraid to tell your mom?" George'tu says, "I don't think do," and the guys go into the bathroom. "Dylan, should we maybe go down to the basement again. Down there in private we can figure out if there's something we can do together that we both like." No argument from me. He's not sexy per se so much as his whole persona is attractive. He's very likable and kinda cute, but with a below-par body. On the other hand that long penis of his is sexy all by itself. As we go down the stairs, I ask, "Do you make-out?" He shrugs, "Not very well I'm afraid. Very limited practice. George and me never practiced that together," and he chuckles a bit nervously. When I'm on the last step and he's standing on the basement's cement floor, I say, "Wait!" He faces me, "What?" I put a hand his bony shoulders. Then, with a hand behind his head, my fingers in his hair, I bring our sweaty faces together and give him an open mouth kiss. He kisses back okay so my tongue goes into his mouth. He stiffens for a second and then moves his tongue on mine. A five second kiss, them moving my head back our lips suck together make a wet sound as they part. I ask, "How was that?" He grins, "Very nice. You really smell good." I nod, "Yeah, genes, ya know, the good ones."
He leans his head over and we do a longer version of the kiss with his hands on my hips. This time he gasps a little when we break. He's blushing slightly, mumbling, "Damn, that's hot. Your lips, um, they're so, um, something. Something good," and we have another longer kiss and this one gets my dick's attention. I was a little aroused cutting his hair, so that was sort of a head start. He takes a deep breath after the third kiss and I come down off the last step, as he asks, "What'll we do now?" I go, "What do you usually do?" He does a nervous snicker blushing again, "I was telling the truth when I told you I've have two sexual experienced in my whole life. I mean, with someone else and not just my trusty hand. I'm inexperienced, man! You tell me what's next." I go, "Well, tell me about that one gay experience you had. Were you the top or bottom?" He says, "He fucked me and it fucking hurt! Later I fucked him and it hurt him worse. We were probably doing something wrong." I go, "Hey! That's two, not one gay experience." He chuckles, "Oh, I thought it counted as one." Ha! I say, "Okay, how 'bout if I blow you and you fuck me." He grins, "Yeah, you got a cute ass. I sorta noticed that. Oh, that's another thing I've done. Had my dick sucked." I go, "Your sexual experiences are adding up as we speak." He mumbles, "I meant fuck experiences," and I say, "Yeah, which you've had three, not two." He laughs, "Fuckin' arithmetic! I was never good at it." I'm unbuttoning his shorts, "You're going to be an engineer and you're not good at math. I'm so sure that's true."
When his pants are down and his long dick's swinging in the breeze, he says, "Lets go over there away from the steps and the door." In the corner, out of the sight line of the door, I get on my knees and take his circumcised penis in my fingers guiding the head into my mouth to suck on it and lick around it with my tongue. I thought it looked skinny like the rest of his body, but that because it's so long. It's actually normal size other than the one-in-a- million length of it. Taste normal too, and without me detecting any special personal scent from his crotch. He has his arms crossed over his chest making squeaky noises as I suck some of the shaft inside my mouth and lick on it. There's plenty of cock left for me to wrap my fist around, so I slowly stroke it a little. He lets out a long breathy exhale, then puts a hand on each of my shoulder puffing out little shorts exhales as his body moves in place. His cock's getting hard now, and then very hard, so I get my head in position, press my head forward forcing his hard boned-up cock down my throat. Down, down, down until my face is against his pubic hairs, then slowly up, up, up until it's out of my throat. Now I smell something, not unpleasant or pleasant. Neutral body scent basically with maybe a tiny lingering bath gel scent. George begins moving his feet as he grunts and gasps, gripping my shoulders. As usual I'm getting a boner sucking a guy's cock
Moving my head forward again and the hard head of his cock slides tightly down my throat until my nose is again in his pubic hairs. He's making a whining sound, then a grunting, "Ah, ah, oh, oh... I'm gonna cum." I move my head back and his boner comes up, up, up and when it's on my tongue, I stroke the shaft twice, he humps his hips gasping, then groans, "Ahhhh," and shoots a long stream of cum in my mouth. I swallow as fast as I can with his hips thrusting on there own pushing the head back past my gag reflex area as he fires more cum, groaning, Ooooh, fuuuuck." That shot goes down my throat. His body's like spastic and he jerks his cock out of my mouth and shoot a stream of cum at my face hitting my chin as he strokes himself, his face bright red. Two more spurts of cum shoot out. His skinny chest is expanding catching his breath, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh my God, " as he staggers backwards. I've never seen a bigger reaction to an orgasm in my life. One last big breath as he points at me, his blush fading, "That was the most fucking amazing orgasm I've ever had. I'd be as gay as George if you lived around here. That's, um, assuming you'd, ya know... be interested." I stand up picking a pubic hair from my mouth still moving my tongue around tasting his cum. It has a taste, but not one I can describe. I'm like, "Didn't you say you've had your dick sucked before, so why the big reaction." He goes, "Oh no! If what you did was sucking my dick, then I've never had my dick sucked before. I don't know what the fuck that girl was doing, but it wasn't like this." I wave my hand at him, "Oh, a girl? Dude, they can't suck dick for shit." He laughs, "Well she couldn't anyway. This was amazing!"
He says, "I need a shot and a beer before I do anything else. I mean of a sexual nature with you. I thought my entire dick would shoot off my body. You're a pro at this, ain't ya?" I go, "No, no! I have a boyfriend, but other than that just some casual buddy sex once in awhile." We put ourselves together and go upstairs where I wash the cum off my face. As I'm doing that I hear voices from both bedrooms. I guess we aren't the only ones doing something sexy. George'tu grins pointing at the bedrooms, whispering, "A bedroom, why didn't we think of that?" Chuckling we do another shot of tequila then open two more beers. Standing here swilling down the icy cold beer, a slow song comes over the speakers. George'tu says, "Hey, dance with me, Dylan. I'd like to cuddle your hot body. Can you take off the t-shirt?" I pull it over my head and hang it on the railing, as he's saying, "Cool tattoo," then, "Holy shit! You've got a ring through your nipple. Dylan, you're the real deal. I think I've got a crush on you." We dance tightly, bare chest to bare chest, our arms around each other. He's so smooth on his feet it's like we're gliding off the floor. Then another couple bumps into us accidentally on purpose. It's Ryan and Mike. Ryan asks, "Having a good time, boys?" I smile, "Yeah, I am," and George'tu says, "Better than good, dude."
Funny, but his skinny torso doesn't feel skinny against my chest, it feels good. He dances with his arms around my shoulders and I've got my arms around his waist. We dance to two slow tunes and then grab our beers and my t-shirt on the way back to our chairs as another hot club number blares from the speakers. There's a few couples making out here and there, guys inside probably screwing, so not as many dancers as earlier. Do you dance or screw? Ha ha! I haven't been to an all gay party since my days with Willie when he'd take me to those block parties. We finish our beers with George'tu telling me about his two aborted attempts at sex, and then about the two times he was with someone who he actually had a sex act with. The guy was younger than him and George felt responsible when it didn't work out very well, although they did manage eventually to climax. It sounds more like work than delicious sex. The girl was his girlfriend at the time and she urged him to have sex. After going together four months they'd only progressed to heavy petting. He managed to complete the sexual act, but she never climaxed and he knew something was missing. They broke up two weeks later without trying it again. He says, "It was so awkward and I felt like a fraud but she really liked me. Then when I'm breaking up with her she called me a faggot, so that eased my conscience about dumping her. The cunt."
I noticed people leaving now that it's after one o'clock and I guess George'tu notices as well. He goes, "I can't pass up this opportunity, Dylan. Would you come down to the basement with me again?" I go, Sure, I'd like to." We make our way through some straggling dancers on the deck, one couple appears to be really drunk by now. There's two guys groping each other in the kitchen, who we dodge, and then we're on our way downstairs to the basement. Surprising me, he initiates the kissing and we get into a fairly good make-out over in our hidden corner of the basement. It's almost dark in here because this time we only flicked on the one light at the top of the stairs. Lots of groping and kissing until he slides the side of his face again mine and we do deep breathing next to each other's ears. He murmurs, "So this is what the fuss is all about. My brother's always telling me how hot sex is and I never felt it until tonight. It feels weird to be so aroused by you, someone I really don't even know, although I'd like to." I'm not sure what to say to that without sounded conceited. He rubs his body against mine saying for the second time tonight, "You smell really good."
A few more kisses and I pull my pants down, so he does the same. His nine or ten inch boner isn't hanging straight down because it's firmed up enough that it's lifting a little. Probably too long to stick straight out like mine does when I get really aroused. I'm looking at the worried expression on his face, his eyebrows arching towards each other with a wrinkle between them. "What is it?" He goes, "Um, would you be insulted if I use a condom?" I ask, "Do you have one?" He nods his head, "Yeah, it's been in my wallet for like a year." I go, "Well get it out." He's reach down to his shorts around his knees as I stroke his cock. Oooh, it feels pretty hard, and just from our make-out. I can hardly wait to feel that long cock of his up my ass. He hands me the condom packet with trembling hands. I say, "Relax, this will be awesome," as I rip it open the packet with my teeth and take the condom out, "You roll it on your nice boner." Then I quickly add, "Not that way, the lubricant should be on the outside." He snickers, muttering, "I knew that," as he rolls it out on his boner. It covers less than half of it looking cartoon funny. That's quite a penis!
The easiest way for George to do this is me bending over, so turning around I do that. He chuckles, "I'm fucking nervous. If I embarrass myself don't tell anyone, okay?" I go, "Okay," and shake my head quietly chuckling, but ya know what, he is more the norm than me. Most guys our age don't fuck everyday. I mean some do, but there are many more guys like George'tu here who rarely have sex. They're constantly in the quest to find a life partner or at least someone who'll share their body with them. He asks, "Ready?" and I grin, that's sweet of him to ask. "Yeah, go ahead, George." The head of his cock, out of harms way in the slippery condom, spreads the lips of my asshole feeling good. Real nice, just tight enough. He leans over to clasp his hands on my shoulders and then steadily pushes his boner up, up, up, my ass and then up some more making me gasp and grin with my shoulders shuddering. This is something special alright. I let out quiet, "Ooooh, mmm," then his crotch bumps my ass and George lets out a long gasping exhale. I guess he was holding his breath the whole time. He takes another gasping breath, then murmurs, "Oh my god this is insane. Ooooh, fuccck, mmm."
Three fast breaths, blowing air out between his closed lips making a 'Tsssss' noise and then he pulls that long boner back a little faster than it went in. My prostate sizzles pleasantly as the lips of my anus hug his long moving cock getting gooey with lubricant from the condom. Inch by inch back up my ass it goes with my back arching a little as I grunt, "Ummm, aaah, nice," and he starts fucking with the same smooth easy rhythm he dances with. His hips push and pull his long boner back and forth smoothly activating unknown numbers of nerve endings that are now sizzling with pleasure sensations and it feels so perfectly awesome I find myself moaning quietly and contentedly to myself. As his smooth thrusting speed picks up the, 'Slap, slap, slap, slap," sounds that bounce off the cellar's cinder block walls and he's now moaning right along with me. Glancing back at him I see his eyes are closed, his head is back and his hips are on auto pilot. His hands only loosely holding onto my hips and he has a look of ecstasy on his face with a
little smile on his lips. Sensations of sexual pleasure put me in a dreamy pleasure state of mind too. We're both moaning, "Ooh," and, "Ah, ooh," as nerve endings in his hard penis tantalize his brain's pleasure zone and my rectum sings a song of sexual pleasure. Each steady quick thrust up my ass
creates the, "Slap," sound and that extra inch or two of his boner hitting
heretofore unexplored areas in my bowels... a pleasurable bonus making me suck on my lips then go, "Oh man, yeah!"
I lose track of time, but from my experience I'd guess it's been about five minutes of gooey sexual pleasure before I recognize the signs of impending orgasm. My balls are hard and high up in their scrotum sack about ready to blow their load. George'tu had an orgasm an hour ago, mostly in my throat and mouth so he'll probably climax after me, but my climax is on me now taking over my brain as I go, "Ah, ah, I'm gonna..." then my back arches as I'm making a gagging sound, then the squeal as bright fireworks go off behind my tightly closed eyes and cum shoots straight down from my quivering boner with me shuddering, my eyes snapping open in awe, then again cum squirts from my hard penis and it's the most awesome feeling. I'm pulling on my cock getting three late coming cum spurts out causing another shoulder shudder and then I'm gasping for air, my eyes blinking and the stiffness leaving my body... so fucking nice! Then, as usual, there's the zipping around of late nerve endings firings before sensations flicker away and I'm left taking deep breaths, once again amazed at the concentrated intense pleasure of an orgasm. George'tu gasps, tightens his grip on my hip, makes a breathless whining sound humping against my buttocks, almost knocking me over. I put my arms out to brace myself against the walls as he does some spastic hard humping against my butt cheeks. A long gasping breath and he pulls his cock totally out of my ass. I'm about to straighten up when he mutters a curse and then slides his boner back up inside me. We both go, "Ahhhh," and he humps my ass for another full minute before leaning his forehead on the back of my shoulder gasping for air again. We're like this for fifteen seconds before he pulls his cock out for good and backs up too lean against the wall next to where my hands are.
Taking my hands off the wall I straighten up looking at him still taking deep breaths. My rectum tingles and my asshole feels pretty wide open. I feel really good. That was a good buddy fuck right there, one I didn't expect during the drive here. I ask, "You okay?" He grins, "Yeah, you could say that. I feel like I broke my cherry tonight. Those other attempts left me thinking... is this all there is? Now I know what good sex with a guy is like, and it makes me want more." I do a startled, "You wanna do it again now?" and he laughs patting my bare chest, "No, not now, you'll need to drive back up here tomorrow though." More chuckling as he takes the condom off and tosses it in the corner opposite ours, snickering "Let Phillip guess who's condom that is. I'm the last person he'd expect to have a condom full of jism." I mumble, "Nice buddy fuck, buddy," and he nods his head, "I'll say! Damn, first the blow job and now this. Dylan, you are responsible for the two best orgasms of my life." I shrug, "Um, I'm glad, but I hope you have even better ones in the future. Ya know, sometime later this summer, or whenever."
We pull our shorts up and leave the steamy basement. No one's in the kitchen when we wash our hands again with George muttering about the lubricant on his fingers. Ha, I've got it up my ass and all around my asshole. It won't soak through like cum does, so I kinda like the feel of it. I'm happy for George'tu although our sex certainly doesn't make my list of favorite fucks of all time. It is however on my top ten list for helping guys experience the joy of sex. This wasn't a true cherry-breaking, but it's the first sex he's enjoyed, so it on the list with an asterisk. Ahead of George's are the few true virgins I've had the honor of sharing their first time doing anal intercourse... true cherry busters.
Outside we round up our shirts and as I'm putting mine on his brother calls to George, "Ready to go, bro? We kinda want to take off." George'tu says, "We made it in the knick of time. "I pat him on the back, "You made my night. Good luck with that name of your's and with everything else in your life too. It's been a pleasure to have met you." We hug with him saying, "You too, Dylan. I won't forget this night for a while." Lighting a cigarette I watch him go. He's a year older than me, so I ask myself: who was more mature, him or me? Probably neither of us was all that mature, but we're still young. Now I'm looking around for Ryan and/or Mike. There are only like eight guys left and it's getting kind of awkward, so much so I almost open another beer I don't want just to be doing something. Then out from the kitchen come Ryan and Mike looking like they just got laid. Big smiles from both, but the biggest smile is on Mike's face so I'm guessing his asshole is still gaping open. They do the one arm hug thing with me, Ryan adding a kiss on my cheek with his hug, before asking, "Ready to go, Danny?" I go, "Yep, who's driving?"
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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