DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION
Chapter 4
by Donny Mumford
It's early Wednesday morning and I'm in Parker Jeter's bathroom taking care of a much needed piss, and sighing with relief as I do it. When done I lean against the sink, then mumble, "Fuck it," and with some apprehension I sit on the throne seeing if my ass is ready for number two. My apprehension is due to the soreness in my rectum. Ryan's been fucking me regularly and then last night Parker fucked me a couple of times so hard it left my rectum on life support for awhile there. Surprisingly it's much better this morning, a little sore but not a problem. Huh, I gotta give a shout-out to my ass! Okay, I might as well do the whole bathroom routine now that I've got number one and two out of the way. After washing my hands and face really well, I use my finger as a toothbrush and then gargle with minty mouthwash. Lastly I swallow a couple of Advil from a bottle I found in their well stocked medicine chest. Huh, I do feel a tiny bit better, which isn't saying much as I could hardly feel worse. Looking at myself in the mirror I'm unhappy about my bloodshot eyes and how pale I am. Yeah, but it appears I've survived last night's pot and booze party. I'm still a little drunk and later the hangover is gonna be a bitch! There's a price to pay for everything. Then I hear, "Come back to bed, Dylan, it's only seven o'clock." I'm dizzy and a little unsteady on my feet, so going back to bed sounds like a damn good idea to me. In the bedroom I crawl back in bed with Parker, who's covering his mouth with his hand, saying, "You smell nice and fresh, but I've got a bad case of morning breath and I'm too lazy to get up and do something about it." I mumble, "Don't ya need to take a piss at least " and he goes, "Oh fuck, I was trying to ignore that! Thanks a lot! Yeah, ha ha, and since you mentioned it I gotta do it." He slides out of bed muttering, "My fucking head hurts," as he walks around the bed and staggers into the bathroom.
Pulling his pillow over, I'm thinking, 'I probably should have shampooed his hair before the haircut last night.' And obviously I didn't do a good job of rubbing his head after the haircut to get the clipped hairs off. I see some on his pillow and a few are sticking to my face. Putting his pillow back on his side of the bed I hear an electric toothbrush running and a two minutes later Parker's standing at my side of the bed, mumbling, "Move over so I don't have to walk around the bed again." Sliding over to his side I try grabbing my pillow, but he gets it first. Grinning, he says, "My pillow has prickly hair clipping from my haircut, and your pillow smells like you, so which one would you guess I'm gonna use?" I mumble, "Guess you'll use whichever one you want." Laying my head on his pillow, I pull the covers up and as they settle down on us a whiff of his body scent puffs in my face from under the sheets. Stronger BO than I noticed last night, but it's not especially offensive because it's combined with his macho scent, which reminds me of an auto-repair garage, plus the way new tires smell, and I'm guessing there's an oil or grease smell mixed in as well. Whatever the hell it is, it works for me. Parker murmurs, "Cuddle with me, Dylan." We meet in the middle of this king-size bed and get our arms around each other. Great body on this guy. Parker's stiff beard scrapes my cheek and that plus his scent and hairy legs are giving me a boner. I'm basically a walking boner anyway, so it's not a big surprise I have sprung another one. Boners feel good. I get one of my legs in between his, my other leg's against his leg nearest me. He murmurs in my ear, "Your boner's poking my nuts." We rustle around some more, then sigh and relax. He rubs my shoulders a little, then my head before settling down, but we don't go back to sleep yet.
Laying together quietly for a few minutes, neither of us is sober yet, and me with this nice boner. Plus I'm rubbing my foot against his hairy leg making Parker chuckle, asking, "Um, are you a little bit horny this morning, Dylan?" I mutter, "Whatever gave you that idea?" He chuckles again giving my body a squeeze, then pushes on the back of my head which can only mean one thing. What the hell, why not? So I go under the covers and get between his hairy legs on my knees, scrunched down rubbing my hands up and down his calves before picking up his penis, the same penis that fucked me twice last night. Stroking it a few times I'm noticing that the scent coming off his cock and balls is a bit raunchy, but I can do raunchy once in awhile. Speaking of raunchy, there's cum crusted on his dick which needs to be licked off first before I'll get a true taste of his cock. As I'm doing that, Parker's grunting and squirming on the bed as his cock is firming-up nicely. With my nose this close to his groin, I make a management decision that his balls are on the other side of a raunch line that I won't cross. They'll be no balls licking this morning. He'll have to make do with just getting his cock sucked. Parker takes a break from squirming and moaning to throws the covers off of us so he can watch me suck his cock. It's a fairly hard boner by now and I'm rubbing the head back and forth on my warm wet tongue as his hips hump slightly and he's back to making quiet sounds of arousal, "Ummm, oh fuck, ooh, oooh, yeah, like that, ummmm, fuck yeah." He's my cheering section, encouraging me onward.
Taking as much of his hard cock into my mouth as I can without the head bumping my gag reflex area, I lick and suck on it hungrily really getting into it. I'm doing a little moaning myself by now with my boner tightening-up even more, and oh man does it feel good. Precum squirts from his cock making him gasp and take a deep breath, then letting it out slowly and noisily. Just as I'm considering taking this hard cock into my throat, Parker says, "Wait, I'm gonna cum. Stop, Dylan." So I take his boner from my mouth looking up at him as he gasps, "I don't wanna cum this soon," then he asks, "You want it up the ass again or do you wanna switch?" That's a nice invitation. Getting fucked is usually my first choice, but every time I've 'topped' I tell myself I should do it more often, so... "Yeah, I'll top. How 'bout we do it doggy style?" He mumbles, "I was hoping you'd say that. Fuck me hard like I did you last night. Do you want a condom?" He's getting on his hands and knees and I'm getting behind him, up on my knees, muttering, "It's a little late for a condom, don'cha think?" He goes, "Hee hee, yeah, I was so anxious to fuck you last night I forgot the condom, so bareback it is."
I'm stroking my boner, glancing at his rosebud asshole and precum bubbles at the head of my cock. I wipe it off on his anus, then push my cock against the wetness. With a little more pressure it slides in sexily past his sphincter and we both go, "Aaaaah." His knees are moving a little spastically on the mattress as I'm leaning forward with my boner sliding tightly a couple of inches up his ass... my shoulders shuddering. I cover my mouth with a hand muffling a moan of pleasure because I don't want to seem like a novice here, but goddamn this feels good on my dick. Parker mutters, "Your cock feels bigger than it looks. It's tight, dude." I slap his ass, "Slap! Slap!" and he squirms some more, "Yeah, do it, Dylan," so I slap his ass a few more times while continuing to push my boner inside him. When I'm in all the way Parker's back is arching the way mine does sometimes. He's whimpering with desire and I'm moaning a little myself, "Oooh, ummm, this feels goooood." Moans and groans during sex just happen on their own. Pulling my cock back gets my shoulders shuddering again and me holding my breath concentrating on the sizzle coming off my cock. Readjusting my position, I stand with my knees bent, then grab his hips and start fucking his ass like I mean it and loving the sexy familiar anal sex sounds, "Slap,slap,slap,slap,slap," of bodies smacking together. Parker increases his moans and groans and I'm beginning to think he prefers bottoming. I mean, he's only got one hand on the mattress now, the other one he's using to stroke his boner. He's not all that steady supporting himself on one hand and consequently his body rocks back and forth with every thrust up his ass. I'm driving my boner in there hard, then pulling it back roughly, and doing it all over again, and again, and again...
Every nerve ending in and around my cock and balls activated awhile ago and they're sending awesome sensations to the pleasure part of my brain, sensations that grow and grow as we go. Parker and me continue with all the normal sounds of sexual arousal, doing it a little louder with every drive up his ass . We're far enough from Lyle's bedroom that I feel comfortable there's no way he can hear our louder and louder moans of sexual pleasure. My cock is like one huge pleasure nerve ending like I can hardly believe, plus the semi-raunchy scent from my sex partner and his tight rectum conspire to make me vocal about how sexually turned-on I am by all this. Parker apparently has a super-sensitized rectum because he's whining and moaning while trashing around on the bed like it's the first time he's ever been fucked, the mattress bouncing so much it makes me think of fucking on a small boat in a choppy sea. The sounds he's making are getting higher pitched with each hump up his ass. Harder thrusting now as my climax has been activated and my nuts are doing their job by getting hard with the cum they've cleverly manufactured. Cum I'm desperate to shoot into Parker's bowels. Faster and harder, "Slapslapslapslap," as Parker pushes his legs back almost laying flat on the bed but keeping his ass up a little so he can continue jerking off as he's getting fucked. Double your pleasure, dude! I'm straddling him now driving my cock inside him realizing my orgasm's on me hot and heavy now, I'm going to have a climax momentarily. I make my own whining sounds holding my crotch tightly against his buttocks humping on it, then squeal as cum pumps from my nuts flying up and out the head of my enormously sensitized penis. Parker makes a girlish shrill sound, his body stiff as he does a violent body shudder, and I suppose climaxes on the bed underneath him. As for me, his violent shudder pushed me backwards and my boner comes out of his ass just as it's shooting a second string of cum, this one streaking up his back. Shaking with delicious sensations as my cock fires three little additional spurts of spunk, which pretty much finishes off my orgasm. I'm laying on my back now, resting on Parker's hairy legs panting. Sensations from my orgasm sizzle around my entire groin and then begin fading allowing my hangover sensations to return and I groan at the mixture of sexual pleasure and a slightly sick feeling.
Rolling off his legs I lay at the foot of the bed breathing hard and dealing with my headache. The fucker's come back worst than ever with a pounding drum inside my head now. Parker's still moaning quietly and stroking himself. That girlish shrill sound he made while climaxing surprised me. He doesn't seem the type. Oh fuck though, that felt great for the five minutes we were doing it. Unfortunately now I feel like I'm going to throw up. Putting bourbon shots in beers should be against the law, and that fucking weed! Damn, the price you need to pay for doing that threesome of beer, bourbon, and weed makes a person think twice about doing it again. Rolling off the bed I stagger back into the bathroom to wash my dick, then my hands and face, and more gargling with mouthwash. What I need is a shower, but I'm too beat-up to take one now. Parker comes into the bathroom gulping and pulling on his soft dick, muttering, "That felt good, Dylan. I can't decide what I Like better, 'topping' or 'bottoming', but I'm leaning towards the bottom." I shrug, asking, "Should we take a shower?" He shakes his head, "Not now, I couldn't do it now. I need more sleep, but feel free if you wanna take one." I shake my head, increasing the speed of the pounding drum inside my head. Fuck! After drying my face and hands I get back in bed feeling dizzy again. Parker's climbs in bed behind me, both of us needing sleep. We're on his original side of the bed because his puddle of cum is on the other side, but some of my cum is now on this side as it wipes off Parker's back. I don't think he even knew it was there. Then he flops over to lay on his stomach, mumbling, "I'm laying in something wet," and he does a couple of deep sighs, then mutters, "Good sex, dude. Wish you lived around here." He puts an arm across my chest and in two minutes the lights go out for me.
Waking up for the second time this morning I hear a woman with a heavy Spanish accent talking in the kitchen along with the sound of dishes and glasses clinking together. Parker's not in bed so I stagger into the bathroom to take another piss, then hunt around for a clean washcloth and towel. The closet is full of them and I'm soon under the two shower heads with hot water flowing over me. With my eyes closed I try taking inventory of how I feel,
and settle on... lousy. That's my best diagnosis, I feel lousy. Well, lousy's better than other worse ways I could feel. Bottom line, I expect to live another day. It's almost one o'clock so obviously all that sleep was necessary for me to be able to feel as good as lousy. I don't know if Ryan's up yet, but I'm guessing he's not or he would have gotten me up earlier. His trip itinerary is totally fucked now because we'll never get three hundred miles in today, not that I give fuck personally. Drying myself, I decide I'm feeling a little better than lousy now. Okay, I know today is going to blow because of my hangover, but tomorrow will be better. Gotta look at the positive side of life. In Parker's bedroom I'm going through the drawers in his bureau looking for clean underwear. Then pick out a pair of newish-looking boxer shorts. They fit fine so I leave my own dirty underwear as a trade. When dressed I go into the kitchen and see the cleaning person has all the glasses off the table and into the dishwasher, and the kitchen in general looks neat and clean. Lyle and Parker are at the table eating scrambled eggs and drinking coffee. We mumble 'good morning', then I ask, "Where's Ryan?" Lyle says, "He's sleeping. When I got up an hour ago he was so still I couldn't see him breathing, so I felt for a pulse. Scared the shit out of me, but he's alive." I nod my head, mumbling, "I'm gonna get him up." The smallish woman asks if I want breakfast and I try for a smile, mumbling, "No, but thank you."
I wanna get out of here now, that's what I want. Awake and completely sober for the first time in fifteen or sixteen hours I realize I'm basically with strangers, nice strangers, but still they're strangers. I'm getting the same 'stranger' vibes back from the brothers even though Parker and I had a number of intimate sexual encounters together. Yeah, sexual encounters between strangers. Under the influence of booze and various banned substances everything seems cool and logical, when obviously it isn't. In Lyle's bedroom Ryan's in the same position I saw him in seven o'clock this morning. He wakes up as soon as I shake his shoulder. His eyes pop open and he holds his head with both hands, then closes his eyes again, groaning, "Ooooh, fuck. Jesus, this sucks. Um, what time is it, Dylan." I mumble, "Don't freak out, but it's after one o'clock." He doesn't freak out, but he does try to put the blame on me, "Oh that's just great, Dylan! Why didn't you wake me sooner?" I give him a dead-eyed stare that he doesn't see because his eyes are closed, then I say, "Whatever, I'm getting you up now. Do you want to take a shower?" He shakes his head, "Nah, I just want to get outta here." I mumble, "Me too," and help him up. He does some stretching and yawning. Then, as we walk from Lyle's bedroom through the living room, I'm quietly saying, "Short and sweet with the goodbyes, and then lets get the fuck on our way."
In the kitchen there's some half-hearted comments exchanged, like Lyle thinking Ryan died, then some stuff like, "Dude, you rock! Great time, thanks for everything but we gotta hit the road." Some one-arm, half-ass hugs and we're outside walking away, relieved to be on our own again. After walking a block, Ryan asks, "Where's the car?" "It's across from Burger King, don't you remember parking it there?" "Where the fuck's that, Dylan?" I go, "Follow me," and I add, 'Ya dumb ass!' I have no problem retracing the four blocks we walked last night, and there's the Mini just like we left it. Ryan unlocks it with the computer key, muttering, "You drive," as he gets in the passenger seat. Fine with me, but he dozes off again and isn't any help finding the motel, so I get lost. Luckily I finally see a small billboard advertising the Days Inn and two minutes later I'm pulling up to the room we paid for, but didn't use last night. Ryan's still totally fucked-up so I go inside and repack his suitcase, get our toiletry kits from the bathroom, and load everything in the car. Ryan's laying back, mumbling, "Put the top down, Dylan. I need fresh air." I do that, then go back in for my duffle bag and when coming out with it the weenie from the front desk is waiting for me, saying, "Excuse me, sir. The check-out time is eleven so we'll need to add a surcharge to your credit cards." I look at him for a second, then mumble, "Do not fuck with me, dude, we didn't even use the fucking room. Check it out." He goes, "Whether you used the room or not, it was assigned to you and that's all that matters," My face gets red, I'm so pissed off. Then, through clenched teeth I growl, "Listen you dumb fuck, if I see a single penny added to our debit cards we'll come back here and trash this Bates motel of your's, and probably you with it." He says, "I'm calling the police," I mumble, "Go head, asshole, the cops love being bothered with petty shit like this. They'll also love having one of their coffee and donut breaks interrupted when they find out what your problem is."
Throwing the duffle bag in the back seat I get in, give the weenie the finger, and do a wheelie out of the parking lot spraying the dufus with gravel. I'm so angry at that ignorant hick it brings back my pounding headache. Ryan sighs, then mumbles, "Handled very tactfully, Dylan," and I mutter, "Fuck him," thinking, 'and fuck you too for all the help you were.' I have no problem negotiating the mile back to the highway, but just before getting on it I pull into a gas station to refill the tank. And, yippee, it has a Dunkin' Donuts attached to their convenience store. First I fill the tank and get a receipt, then I park in front of Dunkin' Donuts, asking, "Ya want something from here, Ryan? I'm getting orange juice and coffee, and maybe a breakfast sandwich." Ryan says, "Yeah, get me a big cold Coke and a regular medium coffee." I ask, "Ya want a breakfast sandwich or something?" He slowly shakes his head, "Fuck no, I couldn't eat anything." Jeez, what an asshole! Inside I get a bottle of OJ and a Coke from the cooler and then order two medium coffees. As the lady's getting the coffees, I go, "Ya know what, I'll have one of your breakfast sandwiches too." She asks, "Which one?" and I'm like, "The, um, previously made artificial egg, sausage, and cheese sandwich on a fake English muffin that you'll reheat in the microwave to the degree of lava." She laughs, "Coming up." I need something in my stomach to soak up the remaining booze. After paying I get a receipt, then carry the stuff to the car throwing the two receipts at Ryan. He mutters, "Prick," as he picks-up the receipts from the floor and logs them in, then puts them in the folder for his mother to verify. The cost of this trip is adding up even though we're kinda slumming it.
We sit in the Mini drinking our drinks in silence. After taking a bite of the breakfast sandwich, I reluctantly offer Ryan a bite. He looks at it in my hand like it's a dog turd, then shrugs, "Yeah, let me try a bite." He takes a bite and we end up passing the sandwich back and forth taking turns eating it. Ryan getting the last bite. Huh. I mumble, "I'll get us another one." Inside the lady chuckles when I order another, and as she's micro-waving it, she asks, "Marines?" I frown for a second and then remember my haircut, and give her one of my high voltage smiles, saying, "Semper fi." She manages not to sexually attack me, which is always the danger when using my high voltage smile. Instead she takes the nuclear-hot breakfast sandwich from the microwave, asking, "What's that mean, honey, simper fi?" I go, "It's Latin for 'always faithful." Putting the sandwich in a little white Dunkin' Donut's bag, she smiles, saying, "This one's on the house, honey. You're the cutest marine I've ever seen. Thank you for your service." I do a salute, saying, "Thank you!" Fuckin' haircut comes in handy sometimes.
Back in the Mini, Ryan and I eat this sandwich the same way we ate the first one, passing it back and forth. He asks, "Where'd you sleep last night?" I go, "On the couch mostly, but later I crashed in Parker's room. I was so out of it, dude!" He mumbles, "Not as out of it as I was. I don't remember shit after taking a few hits off that bong pipe." I shrug, "We fucked-up our schedule, ya know," and Ryan's like, "Fuck a whole bunch of schedules! So, we get home later than lunchtime Friday. It doesn't matter." No, it doesn't, not to me. Pulling away from the parking lot the wheels squeal with Ryan giving me a dirty look, but he sees my expression and decides not to comment on my driving. Five or six minutes later I drive onto the entrance ramp as Ryan asks, "You okay to drive for awhile?" I nod, "Oh, I'm feeling awesome, whaddaya think?" and he mutters, "Good," and kinda gets comfortable bunching his jacket up to use as a pillow. No CD because the top's down and traffic noise is loud, especially the tractor trailers, but the air feels good blowing all around us and it's sunny and clear. A really nice day except for our hangovers and grumpiness.
I drive straight through, almost in a trance, until a little after five o'clock without stopping for anything. Ryan did volunteer to take over the driving around three-thirty but I took pity on him knowing that bong pipe messed with his head something awful. I managed to miss out on the bong by getting fucked on the patio about the time they fired it up. I dodged a bullet in that regard, and therefore I don't feel quite as bad as Ryan. We check into another Days Inn with me half expecting the guy on his computer to see a wanted poster for me from the last Day's Inn. But, nope, nothing like that. By now the most hideous part of our hangover has reduced to just a horrible empty feeling with remnants of a headache, so we decide we need something to eat. I drive around until I find an Italian restaurant where we gorge
ourselves on pasta, meatballs, crusty bread, salad and three ice teas each. We eat the mediocre food without much talking, split the bill and outside Ryan says, "I shouldn't do it, but I'm going to try a cigarette. I'm having nicotine withdrawal, I guess." We're in the restaurant's parking lot leaning against the Mini as he lights a cigarette and takes a drag, drops it on the ground and steps on it twice, then without a word we get in the car and I drive back to the motel. It's only seven-thirty, so too early for bed, especially considering we've only been up a little over six hours. We watch the non high-def TV in the room, bitching about the picture quality, but other than that there's not much talking, and no mention of sex. After a basically shitty evening, grumpy with each other, we finally get in bed around ten o'clock.
Thursday morning I'm awake at seven o'clock thinking that twenty-four hours ago I was also awake at seven. There's no comparison though, I'm still feeling out of sorts, but nothing like yesterday morning. It's obvious I'm not going back to sleep this morning so I take a shower and do all the things most people do in the bathroom. Dragging clean underwear, cargo shorts, and a too-big t-shirt out of my duffle bag I get dressed and wake Ryan. He's still a little fucked-up and grumpy as he goes in for a shower. I go outside for some fresh air and sit on the chair next to our door looking at nothing in particular until three doors down a man comes out humping a big suitcase. He's followed out by a teenage boy with bright red hair and lots of freckles, then the kid's redheaded little sister comes out too. The boy's probably fifteen and he'd be cute except for his big nose. Noses are the number
one cause for people being unattractive. A shame really, but it's the luck of the draw and Nature can be a real bitch about the genes juggling between man and woman during procreation, and all that shit that produces us humans. The boy's got a typical teen scowl on his face of course, and he's complaining constantly about everything to no one in particular. His father's back and forth from their room loading the car. Finally the father stops and exasperatedly, says, "Just please shut the fuck up, Artie, please! Just for a minute, don't say a fucking thing." The little girl screams, "I'm telling mommy," and she runs back into the room anxious to squeal on her dad for using a naughty expletive. I blow out my cheeks in a long exhale as the mother comes running out, screeching, "For chrissake, Will, not in front of Cissy, and you," as she points at Artie, "You are not ruining this trip. We took you to Disney World when you were Cissy's age and now it's you're sister's turn." Artie says, "That's just ef'en great! We'll spend every day in the Magic Kingdom singing 'It's a small world,' over and over. And to think I could have stayed with Gene 'cause his parents said it was alright," and the father says, "Oh sure, so you and that hoodlum could smoke pot all day and night." Artie gets in the station wagon's back seat slamming the door and putting head phones on, pouting.
I guess I'm invisible... they went through their little drama without so much as glancing at me sitting here a couple of doors down from them. Oh well, another happy family trip to Disney World on the cheap. The guy's got New York license plates, so they drove down from New York with Artie probably bitching all the way. At night they stay in dumps like this, then stay at a hotel outside Disney World and commute back and forth each day. Poor bastards. The parents are trying to do something nice for their kids, but the teenager couldn't care less. He's all about himself, and the parents can't control their tempers, while the little girl senses she's the center of attention and acts like a spoiled brat and it's all an expensive big fucking mess. As I'm analyzing the human condition Ryan comes out and pulls the chair over from next door and sits on it, not saying anything for a minute, then he asks, "Whassup?" I shrug, "Nothing, mostly I'm working up the nerve to try a cigarette." He says, "Lets get coffee first," and we walk around to the little coffee shop next to the motel. I could use a breakfast at a diner right about now, but settle for a Krispy Kreme donut. Ryan watches me eat the donut sipping his coffee making that slurping sound I hate. After the hundredth slurp, I go, "Do you mind? Don't slurp, drink it." He mumbles, "Go fuck yourself," then says, "That was frozen, ya know. That donut." I ask, "How do you know?" He shrugs, "The closest state where Krispy Kreme donuts are sold fresh is my home state of Georgia." I take another bite, mumbling, "It's still good." We're continuing to get over our major liquor loads and dope fest Tuesday night. It takes time alright. Fucking hangovers.
When we're back in our room packing-up and loading our stuff in the car, I'm looking at the sky pissed-off that it looks like rain with dark clouds above. I hate driving on highways in the rain. Today the top's up on the Mini Cooper with Ryan finally taking a turn driving. No talking when he's driving, of course, he needs to concentrate. Jesus! The rain starts almost immediately with Ryan mumbling under his breath. For something to do, I texts everybody I can think of and get 'ding' after 'ding' in replies making me laugh at the funny shit the guys text. We text back and forth, 'ding' 'ding'
'ding' and this goes on for half an hour until Ryan yells, "Will you please stop doing that! I can hear the subtle sound with every key you touch and that dinging is driving me fucking crazy! Please, for the love of god, put that fucking cellphone away." Well, I guess we're not getting along as well as I thought we were. Showing my maturity I hit four or five random keys out of spite, staring at Ryan, but get no response. I do not put my cellphone away, instead I read my emails. Robby and Danny both sent me reports of their first days on the job with the landscaping crew. As I read the words I'm feeling a tinge of jealousy. Actually I'd like to hear more about what's going on, but I don't dare email back now because Ryan might go postal on me. Chubby has a sweet email for me too making me wipe a tear from my eye as I'm reading it, and then he goes on this hilarious rant about Danny's first time trying the BIG mower and how it got away from him cutting down three rose bushes. He tells me Rob should never have put Danny on the BIG mower this soon. I'm trying to control my laughing while getting dirty looks from Ryan, but Chubby has a funny way with words. God, he's a funny dude. Doing some fake coughs, trying to stop laughing gets another dirty glance from Ryan. I reread Chubby's email getting the giggles again, then realize it probably strikes me as so funny because Danny's the brunt of the humor. Huh, and it's odd neither Robby or Danny mentioned anything about this big mishaps to me in their emails. I feel kinda bad about laughing now. Robby probably blames himself. Then I hear, 'bing', 'bing' as two more texts come in and I sneak a peek at Ryan who's got this pissed-off look on his face. Ha ha, I put my hand over my mouth snickering. The last couple of 'dings' are probably more follow ups to my text earlier. Ryan looks ready to jump out the window though, so I turn my cellphone off with an audible sigh to show I'm a little pissed off about it. The Mini's windshield wipers leave a smear on the windshield that makes it hard to see through the rain.
Neither of us says a word for the next two hours, then the rain stops just as Ryan's getting off at an exit where gas and food were advertised a mile back. We have a pretty good lunch at a local restaurant in North Carolina, and then after filling the tank with gas I take over the driving. The sun comes out as I'm backing out of our parking spot and I hear more muttering under his breath from Ryan. During lunch Ryan and I had a half decent, if stilted, conversation reminiscing as much as we could remember about that night at Parker's and Lyle's place. I forget to mention the three fucks Parker and I participated in, and Ryan doesn't seem curious anyway. He sort of apologized for being an asshole the last twenty-four hours, and I was like, "Forget about it, hangover's can make some people irritable and they act like immature assholes because of it." He frowned trying to figure out if I'm referring to him. So anyway I think we're on our way back to civility, which is a pretty fast turn around everything considered. We make it into South Carolina, stopping at a Knights Inn for the night. It's late afternoon Thursday so we're getting dangerously close to Georgia, much to my chagrin. There's a pool at the motel for a change, and it's quite warm now. A negative person might even say it's very hot and humid here, so after checking in we go for a swim. Not a very long swim though as six or seven young kids have sort of taken over the pool. The kids are about nine or ten years old playing Marco Polo with lots of screaming. That's a game I never quite got. To make matters worse two of the kids' mothers are refereeing with shrill voices correcting mistakes in the game and settling the constant arguing between the kids. Suffice to say lots of jumping into the pool yelling and bumping into us. Ryan and I roll our eyes and then swim around for awhile trying to stay out of the way of these annoying brats. When the kids switch to inaccurately tossing around a Frisbee in the pool we surrender and get out.
In the room, Ryan takes a deep breath, fakes a grins, and asks, "How's your pussy? It's been awhile, ya know." Huh, I haven't thought about my ass even once for almost two days now. Obvious my ass is all better. That's what I used to say as a little kid... I'm all better, mom. Back then when I'd say 'all better' it usually wasn't about my ass though. Ryan's extended the olive branch, so to speak, so hoping for happier times between us, I go, "My pussy's lonely for your big pecker, Albert," and he says, "Oh man, you haven't been calling me Albert at all, and we'll be home tomorrow." Ruining our truce, I mutter, "You'll be home tomorrow. I won't be home until probably August." He goes, "Don't be like that, Dylan! It's your home for the next ten
weeks, so deal with it." I shrug only now realizing I'm homesick. It makes
me feel like a big baby, but I miss everyone and I miss the comfort of my own bedroom and mom and Chubby and Robby. Smelling the back of my hand, I mumble, "I'm gonna take a shower." All during the shower I feel sorry for myself for being in this predicament. Then, while drying I rally and call myself a wimp because I'm supposed to be maturing during this experience, not regressing. When I come out of the bathroom Ryan's sulking, hunched in the only chair in the room, frowning. Sulking and frowning because I skipped the sex in lieu of a shower. I'm feeling kinda bad for him now though. I mean he tried making-up and getting us in more pleasant moods. Damn, the poor kid. I run my fingers through his hair leaning down to kiss his lips. He does a little smile, trying not to, and I feel bad for him again. He's had a continuously shitty life before going to college, and even part of the time at college it was shitty for him too. Ryan's depending on me so I hug his shoulders, murmuring, "I'll be waiting for you in my boxer shorts when you come out of the shower, okay?" He leans against me, asking, "Your pussy too?" I go, "Yes, Albert. I'm kinda anxious actually, so could you get your big dick in the bathroom and take a shower!" He nods his head, "Yep, and thanks, Dylan." Standing up he rubs my head, kisses my lips quickly, and goes into the bathroom.
I sit in the seat he vacated and hear the shower turn on as I give myself a good talking to. I promised myself I'd make the best of this experience, the best that I can anyway, and that's what I'm going to do. Having sex with Ryan is the one constant I can depend on, and I'm making the best of that too. He comes out of the bathroom followed by a cloud of steam as he's drying his hair with a towel, his big cock swinging between his legs. Getting up I go down on my knees in front of him and put his cock in my mouth while looking up at him and grinning around his dick. He grins back rubbing my head with the damp towel, then tosses it in the chair. He smells like his bath gel. My hands squeeze his tight butt cheeks and my mind fills with the many good times Ryan and I have had pleasuring each other during sexual encounters. As I suck his cock and squeeze his buttocks I'm looking up at his stomach and chest. Awesome muscle definition in his smallish tight body. An excellent example of the male form, perfectly proportioned and sexy. Ryan's looking down at me lovingly now, like all is forgiven and he still loves me. He begins caressing my head, the back of my neck, and massaging my shoulders. While doing that he's making quiet moans of sexual pleasure too, then sucking his lips in at the sensations coming off his cock, then there goes his feet shuffling a little as the sensations coming off his big cock become intense, "Aaah, aah, ummm."
When his cock is a steel boner he holds my head between his hands and moves his hips expertly and then tightly slides his cock down my throat with me gagging. He ignores my gagging and keeps moving his hips, his big hard boner sliding on my tongue as it's deep throating me for maybe a minute. My cock tightens-up so hard it's again sticking straight out from my groin barely
able to move. I've slipped into a dreamy submissive frame of mind, my eyelids heavy and my brain foggy. Ryan pulls his cock from my throat and I'm gasping for oxygen, spit running down my chin and my heart pumping hard as I take a few more deep breathes staring at Ryan as he's staring confidently back at me. He's well aware of how dominating deep throating is for a submissive bottom like me, and for whatever reason this is the most submissive I've felt so far this trip. Ryan takes hold of my head again and moves his hips leaning up and over my head as he pushes his cock down my throat again, my nose pressed in his pubic hairs and flat against his belly. This time Ryan's head goes back as he groans and moans at the sensations coming off his hard cock. I can hardly imagine how enormously arousing it must be for him. His head lifts, "Aaaah, aaah, oooh, mmm," as his cock again pulls up until the hard head pops past the gag area unto my tongue drooling precum. He rubs my head with both hands while his hips move sliding his boner back and forth on my tongue, then he gets my head between his hands and it's another long deep throating lasting more then a minutes with Ryan's hips moving smoothly one, two, three times and I'm so submissively aroused and turned-on from the way Ryan's doing this I'm shaking. I make a gargling sound in my throat, hump my hips shooting out a long stream of cum that goes between his legs splattering on the carpet, then another hump and more cum blows from my cock in three quick bursts with so many sensations firing off around my groin tears roll down my cheeks. It felt as good as any orgasm I can remember.
I'm limp now with Ryan nodding to himself, knowing that he has me super submissive to him now. He's partially holding me up with his hands on either side of my head when he pulls his hard boner from my throat and steps behind me roughly pushing at the back of my head and I go down on all fours. Ryan pulls my boxer shorts halfway down my thighs and smacks my bare ass, "SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!" and an idea gets through the haze of after climax sensations and I realize he smacked my ass because I'm not holding it up for him to mount. With my butt cheeks stinging I push my ass up and get another, "SMACK!" so I get it up higher and Ryan mounts me pushing the precum-slippery head of his boner inside me. I quietly moan with pleasure and pain as sensations all around my cock and balls recede and the nerve endings in my rectum come alive. Ryan leans over me as I'm mostly on all fours with my ass pushed up, but to get my pussy high enough to satisfy Ryan I've lifted my knees off the floor a couple of inches. He cups my shoulders with both hands and pulls me back onto his big boner as he's pushes it steadily in from his end. I'm like, "Ow, ow, ow, oh, oh, aaah," but he continues until he's flat
against my butt cheeks where he humps dominantly against them and a thought drifts past my mind that maybe he knows more about Tuesday night than I thought he did. It's like he's being extra rough because I was a bad boy, or maybe he wants to reaffirm he's in charge. Whatever, it's a fast and furious hard fuck, "Slap,slap,slap,slap,slap," for three or four minutes with me groveling and rocking on my hands and knees, hands and toes actually. I'm feeling totally dominated, which brings back my boner as a follow-up load begins rapidly assembling in my balls. There's a buzzing there and waves of awesome sexy sensations are ringing off my prostate while the lips of my asshole sizzle with pleasure. Ryan's grunting and beginning to sound desperate, and then he stops thrusting and stays pressed against my ass as a sharp warmth hits inside me and Ryan gasps, humping against me again making his whining sound and it gets slushy in my rectum with some of his load squeezing out around the edges of my distended anus and running down to the back of my balls before dripping off to the carpet below.
He lays on my back getting both arms around the front of my throat lifting up and my hands come off the floor as I go up on my knees with Ryan driving his cock inside me for another minute, just long enough for me to squeal as three little shots of spunk shoot from my boner landing a foot away making my whole body's shake at the overwhelming sensations. Ryan pulls out his long cock, gives my ass a hard slap, "SMACK!" and he flops backward into the chair breathing deeply, his cock still hard. I drop back down on all fours again as sensations buzz around my stomach, rectum, and groin with my shoulders shuddering and me panting. Then gasping for air and a really pleasant calm wonderful feeling drapes over me. I relax with a quiet moan and Ryan gets up, "SMACK!" on my buttocks, then he pushes his cock back up inside my gaping-open ass with me moaning and squirming on the carpet. He fucks me hard for three or four more minutes without either of us getting to a climax stage. Pulling his cock out, he sits in the chair again, saying, "Come here, Dylan." Slowly getting up on my knees, feeling very submissive, I walk the three steps on my knees to the chair he's in and lean my head over between his legs to his naked lap. He hugs my head as I'm licking his soft messy cock, Ryan murmuring, "Good boy," again in control. He's running the back of his fingers against the grain through the quarter inch hair on top of my head. Then he gets his hand under my chin pulling my head up, "That's enough, baby. Come on, lets lay in bed for awhile. We'll get dinner later." He feels totally in-charge which for me can be a dreamy sexual situation, although I know it won't last long even though sometimes I wish it would because it really rings my bell.
We're on the bed, and with his confidence back Ryan has a totally different personality, one I like during most of our sexual encounters. I let him baby me, soothingly rubbing his hands over me and hugging me, "You feel good after that deep throating and hard fucking I did for you, don't you baby?" Ha ha, I feel like saying 'Yes, Daddy' except he'd know I was being disingenuous. Anyway I don't feel like saying anything because I'm enjoying running the film of that submissive sex I just had over in my head while Ryan murmurs hypnotizing words I can't make out. The deep throating turn-on is actually a bit of a puzzle because it's very uncomfortable for me, but at the same time I get into such a submissive trance it becomes extremely sexually arousing bringing on a fantastic climax. The first one I had tonight I almost blacked-out. It's like my brain was overloaded with incredibly intense sensations of deep pure sexual pleasure during my climax. So intense I almost felt unworthy to experience it. I nestle in against Ryan's smaller body thinking of Parkers bigger body with his hairy legs and the mannish mature beard of prickly whiskers that I imagine could give someone a rash. Wouldn't it be awesome getting a beard burn on the inside of my thighs from Parker sucking my dick. That gives my body a little shudder, but it also got my mind off Ryan and therefore my submissive trance is fading fast.
When I stretch out on the bed I'm back to real life, asking, "When we eating? I'm hungry." Ryan goes, "Damn, I liked it when you were docile and couldn't get close enough to me, squirming against me, all submissive and everything." I shrug looking at him, "What can I say, it doesn't last as long as it used to, but you did a great 'dominant' deep throating tonight, Ryan. Whoa, you really had me going with that dominant act, that was hot!" Now it's his turn to shrug, "Yeah, but ya know what? I feel bad for you when I'm doing it. You're gagging, you can't breathe, and your desperately trying to snort through your nose. It's nerve racking for me, but I know you like being submissive so I keep a stern expression and all that." I go, "Huh, you used to have no problem being a dominant prick during our sex." He makes a face, getting defensive, "Yeah, because you couldn't get enough of it! I did it for you, but that was before I fell in love with you and now I hate doing anything mean to you." Ooh, okay, let's avoid this 'love' topic. Anyway it's bullshit he did it all for me because he had huge orgasms himself. That was then though, and this is now.
We're silent for a minute, then I go, "Um, you know Parker and I did it Tuesday night, right?" He says, "Yeah, I knew, but I'm glad you told me yourself." Huh, he took that pretty well, then he looks at me, saying, "I'm gonna get very pissed-off though if you do it on the side in Marietta while living with me." I rub my nose, mumbling, "Yeah, I know," which doesn't give any assurance I won't do it. He appears unsure of himself now, so to bolster his confidence, I say, "I promise not to go looking for it, Albert, if that
makes you fell any better," and he goes, "You never go looking for it anyhow, so how about promising you won't do it even if you're invited?" I mutter, "I'll try," and get out of bed, changing the subject, "Damn, that was hot sex tonight, boss. I gotta hand it to you." Laying in bed, he grins, "Come back here, you," so I put a hand on the mattress and lean down over his head, "Yes, Albert?" and he gets his arms around they back of my neck pulling my head down for a big sloppy wet kiss, then he just hugs me around the neck, the sides of our faces sliding together and his sparse curly short beard giving my dick a tingle. Nice! Yeah, and it's a good feeling being loved too. Ryan's basically a sweet kid, but he's damaged, and I'm not sure how badly. Maybe I'm about to find out, I mean in a day or two.
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are under ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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