DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 10
by Donny Mumford
After Robby and I drop off our bogus girlfriends at their dorm, we talk about them during the short drive to our apartment. I tell Robby the girls are, "Um, kinda interestingly different from what I'm used to." He snorts a chuckle, mumbling, "Jesus, there's a reluctant luke-warm endorsement if I've ever heard one." I'm offended, "I was being generous, whaddaya talking about? I mean, there's nothing wrong with either of the girls, per se. I just don't get why they insist on hanging-out with us?" He's goes, "I don't know either, but I think they're fun. It's cool hearing about things from their perspective. In high school I was too introverted, especially when it came to girls, but now I'm not, and I'm enjoying them." No sense arguing about it, so I just shrug. Both Beth and Frankie are, in fact, nice. There isn't a single thing I can honestly find fault with either of them so far.
And, sure, it's fine having casual female friends, but something about the suddenness of all this seems unreal, like the girls are playing a game with us for their own amusement. Or maybe I'm jealous of Robby's interested in them; I don't think I am, but I really don't know for sure because, like I said, it's so new.
Inside our apartment I do a quick check for text messages. There's some texts, but not from Ryan. He's like that though; if I don't text him he'd never think to text me first. Robby asks, "Any problem, Dylan?" I put my phone away, "Um, no. Why do you ask?" He mumbles, "You were frowning." Shaking my head, I mumble, "I didn't realize I was frowning. I'm good." We get ready for bed and, surprisingly, go to sleep without having sex. If we had sex tonight it would have been the third time today, so it's not like either of us is especially horny. Of course, you don't especially need to be horny to enjoy the pleasures of sex. When I cuddled up to him, he murmured, "Not tonight, okay, babe? I'm really tired." Huh, I guess it'll need to be okay because I can't do it by myself. This might be rationalizing, but in a way it's probably good we abstain once in a while. I mean, if we do it every single night, regular as clockwork, it could eventually feel like an obligation rather than a spontaneous desire to share ourselves with each other. That sounds like logical thinking, right? Yeah, except for this little niggling thought in the back of my mind about Robby's comment this afternoon; the one where he said he's curious what it'd be like having sex with a girl. Ya know what? I should probably use that universal bullshit excuse of having a headache some night when Robby wants to have sex. Yeah, maybe I should do that some time so he doesn't get the misconception I'm always available, so to speak. Obviously the recent attention he's been getting from the girls, especially Frankie, is at the root of his newfound curiosity about sex with one of those creatures. Jesus, it's always something...
After a good night's sleep we do a good morning kiss; then, neither of us being what you might call a morning person, we don't have a lot to say while getting ready for our last class of the week. It's the only course we don't have together. No morning sex, but that's not a regular occurrence anyway. If we're going to do it in the morning it'll usually be initiated by Robby, him being, the man, in-charge of everything. Robby being in-charge has been a slow developing concept, but it's established enough by now that I don't believe he even thinks about it; he just goes about being in charge.
He low-keys it. He'd probably be shocked if I said "No' to something he decided on; hell, it would probably shock me too. Sometimes when I see him noticeably taking charge I get a little aroused, while at the same time it can be slightly scary too. It was me who nudged Robby into the role of being our decision-making leader, and now that he's embraced the concept it's like, 'You can't get the toothpaste back in the tube'. Or to put it another way, Robby's unlikely to ever be less in-charge then he presently is, so I guess my question to myself is: how much more in-charge will he get on his own? It'd be the height of hypocrisy for me to complain about the situation, I mean since I'm responsible for almost all of it. He'll ask me a times what I want to do, or what I'd rather do in certain situations, but mostly we do what he wants with neither of us giving it a thought.
So, no sex last night or this morning, but I have no overall complaints in the sexual relations department;not where Robby's concerned anyway. He's taken care of business here at college very nicely for the most part. With my sex life overall, however, I have a slight sense of unease because I'm missing the buddy side-sex I used to indulge in more frequently then presently. Ryan and I did it once, and that's been totally it for my side-sex activities. Oh well, there was the one quickie with Tracy that I suppose I should borderline include. And, I'm not inferring I'm walking around horny all the time or anything like that. It's simply that past unexpected encounters of side-sex aren't happening anymore. So yeah, I kinda miss the variety I used to experience on a semi-regular basis. On the other hand it's probably a good thing my side-sex is way down because next year, our senior year, Robby wants us to be monogamous as we prepare for marriage. That's a good idea, I suppose. Huh, it's weird to think that this is likely my last year for experiencing side-sex though. Funny, but I might be having the beginnings of some second thoughts about letting Robby making that decision for us.
The problem is I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize our love affair. Hell, I've told myself a thousand times this is the situation I've always wanted, right? Oh hell, I'm pretty sure everything will be fine.
We have toasted frozen waffles with melted butter and real maple syrup, plus coffees, for breakfast. As we eat, Robby asks, "Are you going with me this morning, Dylan?" I nod, "Yeah, I'll grab another coffee at the Quad killing time until my nine-thirty class. What are you doing after your class?"
He shrugs, so I add, "We have the whole day to do whatever we want. It's like a three day weekend, right?" He goes, "Yeah, I know; ain't it great? The
only thing is, this afternoon I need to put in a couple of hours with Golden at the ballpark. Fall practice starts Monday and I want to make sure Golden's clued-in on everything in the handbook." I'm like, "What handbook?"
Robby says, "The one our infielder coach gave Danny and me." I'm like, "Okay, but that handbook deal is for later this afternoon. Before meeting Golden would you go to the Mall with me? I need new sneakers and then we could have lunch somewhere." He gets up from the table to put his dish and coffee mug in the dishwasher, saying, "You bet, babe. I'll wait around after my class. Meet me at the pickup." I'm nodding my head, mumbling, "That's cool."
He smirks at me then, says, "I'll bet you've forgotten something." I ask, "What's that?" and he says, "Before we go to the Mall you and I need to do whatever homework we get from our morning's classes." I'm like, "Homework?
Jeez, Rob, we have the whole weekend to do that." He says, "That's true enough, but we're still gonna do it before we do anything else. Then it's done and we're totally free the rest of the weekend." I mutter, "Oh, okay I guess, but Jesus!" He gives me a look, quietly saying, "You agreed we'd be conscientious about this year's classes, right?" I nod, peevishly saying, "Yeah, swell. I said okay, didn't I?" He mutters, "I hate when you pout, Dylan.
Please don't pout; it's so, um, childish." He's right, so I mumble, "Sorry, Rob," and we do a nice hug, finishing with a sweet kiss. As we put our backpacks on, I mumble, "Ya know, Rob, you've got me wrapped around your little finger." He goes, "Ha ha, that'll be the day anyone has you wrapped around any finger. C'mon now, I'm gonna be late for class."
My Friday morning class is the only one I have with Ryan. In that regard, the primary reason I asked Robby about going to the Mall is I wanted something planned for right after class. It's dumb of me maybe, especially since I just finished bitching about my lack of side-sex, but even so I don't want to get in the habit of Ryan and me screwing after every Friday morning class. It would be too obvious, and what could I tell Robby I was doing after class? So I guess I'm trying to impress on Robby that Ryan and I are not fucking like rabbits, or whichever the animal is that fucks a lot; minks maybe. As it turns out, however, I didn't need to come up with something to do after class. Robby came up with it for me: doing homework assigned from Friday's class. Jesus, it's like I make these promises to Robby, ones that don't seem all that important at the time, but often they come back to bite me in the ass later. In this case I'm referring to my promise to work with Robby trying for even better grades then we got last year. My question is: what the hell's wrong with our last year's GPA of 3.0? Get serious! Ya know, something I probably need to do in the future is think about the longer term consequences of whatever it is I'm agreeing to... duh, that should have occurred to me about three years ago! I frankly feel it's overkill insisting we do assignments immediately after class. And, not to make too fine a point of it, but is Robby going to do assignments right after class on Monday, I mean when baseball fall practice begins? Hmmm, well see about that.
Robby parks the pickup at a Merrimack lot that's approximately halfway between his class and mine. He pats me on the shoulder, saying, "I'll see you in a couple of hours right back here at the pickup. Okay, babe?" I go, "Yep, see you then, Rob. Have a good class." He starts to go, then stops and gives me a little smile, asking, "We good, Dylan?" I nod and sort of smile back at him, "Yes, Rob, we're good," then I add, "Boss." He grins and shoots me with his index finger, muttering, "Boss, my ass," and walks off with his backpack over one shoulder, cool like. I watch him walk away until he turns around and waves at me, like I knew he would. Damn, I could never give him up. I'm crazy in love! It's like I've thought any number of times in the past: Robby's actually too good for me, but what the hell I'm keeping him anyway. If doing course assignments after class is what he wants, that's what he'll get. My concerns about how in-charge or bossy Robby might become in the future seems silly to me now. Robby and I are perfect together.
Okay, I've got forty minutes before my class, but I don't really feel like going to the Quad for another coffee. What to do? Pulling up the hood of my new Merrimack Warriors sweatshirt, I light my first smoke of the day thinking that hoodie sweatshirts are very cool. What's even cooler though is wearing a baseball cap with the bill in the front, and then putting up the hood. That's an awesome look right there. And, Goddammit, I need to get that fucking hat back from Beth, and I mean today! Okay, with that settled, I saunter down a brick sidewalk smoking my cigarette, not thinking about anything special. Then, holy shit! Is that Hoodie Boy from the baseball stands walking towards me. Yes, I'm sure it is and, of course, he'd have 'cause he's Hoodie Boy. Ha ha. He's wearing a backpack, so probably heading to class.
His head's down as he's walking hurriedly along by himself. When he gets closer I see he's frowning, and looking awfully fucking cute doing it too.
Hot shit, one of the rare cute guys on campus. I can't see his hair because of the hood, but I see he's either clean-shaven or he hasn't started growing a beard yet. A sparse beard would look sexy on that youthful baby face of his. Gee, he has a perfect nose too, and today he's wearing horn-rimmed eyeglasses that are too big for him. Jesus, what a cute fucker! Wow, for sure he's a rare cute one alright. Somehow I still need to determine if he's the one out of ten who's gay. If that long-shot comes in I might have a very interesting situation here.
He walks around a group of slower walking students and when he's six feet from me he looks up and our eyes meet, then he maintain eye contact way to long for a straight dude. He grins this stupidly cute grin, pointing at me, and as I exhale a long stream of smoke, he says, "Hey, you're the bleacher guy from the other day. Nice hoodie, dude," and he's past me just like that. Oh fuck, I think he has slightly bucked teeth in front, but they're perfect for him. I've got goosebumps seeing him up close like that as I bring the back of my hand up to my nose, feeing odd. It's so strange how certain guys resonate with me much more than others. Goddamn though, I'm bad at extemporaneously coming up with something cool to say on the fly like that. I said nothing to him, just grinned back at him, nodding my head.
Taking a drag off my cigarette, I'm thinking this quick encounter with Hoodie Boy didn't actually prove anything about his possible one out of ten status. Not really, although there was the cute grin and the too-long eye contact, so there's that. And I confirmed my suspicion from long distant observation that Hoodie Boy is in fact, cute. I had a strong suspicion that he was. Maybe it's my many years of boy-watching that allows me to spot, unconsciously, clues that a guy is especially cute. It's becoming rarer and rarer to spot cute guys the older we all get to be. If Hoodie wasn't in such a hurry this morning I'm pretty sure he would have stopped and initiated some conversation; I mean, considering how friendly he was. Then I would have had time to come up with some hot-shit type remark, maybe. Hell, I don't feel like I'm shy anymore, but it's just that he came up on me so fast and then kept going past me before I could think of anything cool to say. He remembered me from the other day though, so that's another positive sign. No matter how young he looks, he's obviously going to college so he's either nineteen or soon will be, and that's certainly not too young for me. Okay, the next time we bump into one another I'll initiate the conversation. I shouldn't have a problem doing that considering he must be a freshman and therefore unsure of himself, plus he seemed pleased we had this brief random encounter. So those are positive signs as far as I'm concerned.
I'm still walking and thinking about Hoodie Boy when it hits me that I'm now outside Ryan's dormitory. Huh, I just wandered here without thinking where I was going. Guess I'll go up and see if Ryan's getting ready. Flicking my cigarette butt off the back of the kid's leg in front of me, I shake my head because I was sure that butt flick was going to land in the gravel area along the hedges. Inside the front door of the building I walk down the hall to knock on Chubby's door. No answer and before knocking again I remember that Chubby doesn't have a Friday morning class, so he's sleeping in.
Christ, I'm glad I didn't knock harder. Damn, I'm missing Chubby a lot. I drop my backpack and get a 3X5 card out of it to write: 'Bro, can we hookup tonight? I miss you. Love, Dylan'. Sliding the card under the door I'm like, oh fuck, if John Beverly sees that note he'll probably think it's geeky of me. Shit, now I can't quite reach the card to pull it back. Ahh, screw John Beverly, I miss Chubby.
On the second floor I knock on Ryan's door and his roommate, Steve Church, answers. He gives me that easy smile of his, saying, "Hey, Dylan, wasssup, dude?" I go, "Hi, Steve. Is Ryan around?" He nods his head backwards, indicating I should come in, saying, "He's taking a shower, c'mon in." The top of his head is level with my forehead so he's about five-foot, eight or nine-inches tall and he's got kind of a square body. Somehow he's still slim-looking. Brown eyes and hair with his hair cut in a generic haircut, probably a Super Cut haircut although certainly not a recent one. I step inside and notice right off that the room is very neat, so I smirk, saying, "I see Ryan won the neatness battles." He laughs, "Yeah, it's preferable keeping my shit where it belongs rather than listening to him nag me about it. Ha ha, he has a nice way of nagging though; I guess I gotta give him that."
Glancing briefly at his lips, watching them move as he talks, I confirm my earlier appraisal that Steve has a very sexy mouth. Nice bow-shaped lips, dark pink and slightly fuller than you see on most guys. He has smallish super white teeth and, like Lawyer's mouth, everything about his mouth is real pink and clean looking. Good mouth to kiss, except he's straight as an arrow.
The rest of his facial features are average; nothing special, but not bad either. He's okay.
Steve says, "Have a seat," pointing to his desk chair, and I go, "No, that's alright, I'm good," as I lean against the wall near his desk. In the dorm there are two desks, two cot-sized beds, two chairs, and built in drawers for clothes. Typical dorm room with a tile floor and a nice throw-rug that's probably one Ryan sent ahead by UPS. Man, our apartment has it all over dorm rooms. Plus, in a dormitory you need to use the communal lavatory at the end of the hall. Communal everything. For something to say, I ask, "What do you think of the communal showers?" He shrugs as he sits at his desk, "It's actually what I'm used to. After middle school I went to St. John's Prep and it was the same thing there." I go, "That's a private high school, right?" He nods, "Yeah, I went to Salem Middle School and then the same private school my dad went to." I mumble, "Cool," and he chuckles, saying, "Actually I like communal showers." I'm like, "Why's that?" He blurts out a laughs, "Ya get to see everyone's dick and, dude, you can't believe the variety." Maybe I can at that, but I merely mutter, "Huh, you're into dicks, are ya?" He laughs, "That didn't come out right, did it? No, I'm straight, but it's weird the way guys have all different sized penises. I once saw a kid with a two inch dick; maybe even less then two. Obviously it wasn't easy to get a look at it because, as you can imagine, he wasn't flashing that acorn around." I'm laughing, saying, "Get the hell outta here! Two inch dick?
Surely you exaggerate. Of course I'm thinking about Timmy, but keeping that to myself. Anyway, we're both kinda grinning, as he goes, "No, seriously, like I said, it may have been less then two inches, but why am I'm talking about my secret fascination with you? It just came out. You're gonna think I'm whacked talking about guys' cocks." I wave my hand at him, mumbling, "Not at all, Steve. Dicks are interesting, heh heh." He laughs and blushes, muttering, "I should never have opened my mouth." Ryan did tell me that Steve has no filter between his brain and what comes out of his mouth. It makes him uniquely likable if you ask me.
Steve's rockin' a scraggy sparse beard that's an inch long. It somehow just doesn't go with his face, so I ask, "How often would you say you shave, Steve?" I was kinda smirking when I asked that and his hand goes to his face,
again blushing a little, mumbling, "I need a shave, huh?" I shrug, saying,
"Not on my account. I'm twenty-one and still don't need to shave and, like the kid with the two inch dick, I'm getting a tad paranoid about it.
Anyway, because of that, I sort of notice other guys' facial hair." He goes, "Like I notice other guys' cocks, right?" I mutter, "Yeah, it's almost the exact same thing," and he does his easy laugh. Nice guy. Actually if I were drunk I'd probably ask him about his own dick; good thing I'm not drunk. With the back of my hand against my nose, I ask, "How'd it go with your courses this week?" He shrugs, "Three professors appear like they'll be okay, but in my Applied Multivariate course I've got a real asshole for a professor." I'm like, "What the fuck was that course you just said?" and he goes, "Applied Multivariate? It's statistical analysis with a hyped-up title." I still don't know what it is, but since I don't care, I just mutter, "Jesus."
Steve points at the toiletry kit on the desk next to the one he's sitting at, telling me what I already know, "There's your barber clippers and stuff."
I nod, "Yeah, I know," and he goes, "Yeah, well I asked Ryan for a free haircut, you know, since he's got these barber clippers and all, but he said he only does buzz cuts." I go, "He does a wicked fade haircuts, although I wouldn't recommend it," and Steve shakes his head, "That's too severe a haircut for my taste. I'm just a regular haircut kind of guy." I say, "A regular haircut kind of guy who needs a shave," and he laughs, mumbling, "You're as bad as Ryan. I'll bet you're a good nagger."
Ryan comes in before I can reply to Steve's nagger comment. He's got a towel around his waist and he's carrying his own toiletry kit. He gives me a big smile, saying, "Hi, Dylan," and leans over to give my lips a quick kiss,
asking, "How ya doing?" Wow, that caught me off guard again and I glance at Steve's reaction. He's got the wide-eyed look, the same one he had when Ryan kissed me the other day. I say, "I'm doing good, Ryan, how 'bout you, boss?" He chuckles, then says to Steve, jokingly, "I'm Dylan's boss." Steve says, "I guess you're my boss too. I mean, how do you like the way I put all my shit away?" Ryan glances around, then asks, "You did all this when I was in the shower?" Steve's like, "You're goddamn right I did. I couldn't take anymore of your subtle nagging." Ryan grins at me, nodding his head at Steve, and says, "He thinks I nag him, can you believe that shit?" I roll my eyes, muttering sarcastically, "It's inconceivable," then, looking at my watch, I go, "We've got almost a half hour. Do you wanna get something to drink at the Quad?" Ryan drops his towel and gets a pair of boxer shorts out of a drawer, saying, "You know I hate the crowds in the Quad, but I would like a coffee. Maybe you'd be kind enough to get me one." I go, "Yeah, I'll go in for the coffees." Pulling on his boxer underwear, he looks at me, saying, "Thanks, babe. I'll buy."
When Ryan dropped his towel I looked right over at Steve 'cause I knew he'd be gawking at Ryan's cock. I take it, from the expression on Steve's face, this must be the first time he's seen that monster of a penis. Even for a
guy who's intentionally been looking at guy's penises since freshman year at prep school, I'll bet he hasn't seen one like Ryan's very often, if ever. I don't blame him for gawking. Jesus, that's a hellava cock hanging there, looking dangerous as it's swinging between Ryan's hot and hairy legs. I can't help but think Steve's probably wondering how that big hunk of meat can possibly fit up my ass. Nah, it's more likely Steve doesn't think about things like that at all.
Ryan's oblivious to Steve's gawking as he gets dressed, asking me, "Do you want to do whatever homework assignments we get from the monotone-speaking, Professor Armbruster, after class with me?" Ah ha, like that wouldn't lead into sex. I'm like, "Jeez, I should have thought of that, Ryan, but I already promised Rob I'd get together with him after class and do whatever assignments he and I get today. You're more than welcome to work with us at the apartment." He's putting a sock on, but stops and gives me a 'look', then says, "Um, no thank you." I'm like, "Why can't you and Rob get along?" He finishes putting on the sock, saying, "Did you promise Rob you'd work with him, or did he tell you that's what you're going to do?" I give him a disgusted look and he waves his hand at me, saying, "Oh, never mind. Forget I said that, lets drop the subject. We've covered it before anyway." Steve's not saying anything, so as not to ignore him, and to change the subject as requested, I ask, "Do you have a class today, Steve?" He grins, "On a Friday? Are you out of your fucking mind?" I nod my head, mumbling, "Yeah, we avoided Friday classes last year too, but this year I wanted to be in at least one class with my best friend, Ryan." Ryan goes, "Awww, that's sweet." I add, "This Friday's Modern Society course was the only one that we could take together." Ryan pats my shoulder, saying, "Lets get those coffees." Steve says, "You guys are tight, aren't you? That's so cool. Me and Brian Shaw were really close friends, like you guys. That's until he joined the friggin' Navy." Smiling at him, not knowing what to say to that, I give a hand wave, muttering, "See ya later, Steve," and he goes, "Oh, wait a second, Dylan." I stop and look at him. He goes, "Heh heh, I heard it through the grapevine that you're a super barber, so...?" and he points at his head. I go, "Oh yeah. Sure, Steve, I'll give you a haircut. Um, sometime this weekend, okay?" He goes, "Thanks, that'd be awesome!" as I follow Ryan out the door.
We're both wearing backpacks and as we walk toward the Quad, I mutter, in a joking manner, "Yo, Ryan, didn't you put me in charge of backpacks?" He seemed okay in his dorm room, but now he's acting moodily quiet again so maybe asking for his backpack will make up for not doing homework with him after class. He snorts out a grunt, like he's annoyed, saying, "For Christ-sakes, Dylan, I'm not that big of an asshole that I'd expect you to carry my fucking backpack. I was just messin' with you yesterday when I said that."
I'm like, "Hey! I knew you were kidding, and just now so was I. Jeez, give me a little credit." He bumps into my side, "No, uh uh, you weren't kidding. You would have carried it for me if I handed it over to you." I make a face at him, like, 'Get real!' Hmmm, what did Ryan say was the reason Mike dumped him? Something about Ryan being too gloomy... something like that.
I'm starting to see what he means. Still, I don't know, I somehow feel responsible for Robby and Ryan thinking they hate each other, so I'm probably trying too hard to make up for it with Ryan. The truth is... it's actually Ryan who's created a self-imposed exile from doing anything with Robby. Robby didn't mind that I invited Ryan to dinner the other night. I will say though, Robby does seem more than okay about Ryan's self imposed exile. Fuck it though, I feel bad for Ryan, that's all. I try being friendly again, asking, "What are you doing after lunch?" He shrugs, and I add, "Rob will be at the ballpark with Golden doing some kind of baseball mentoring. You and I could hang out if you're free." He shrugs, saying, "If Rob will let you, ya better ask permission first..." We're at the bottom of the steps to the Quad, as I go, "Um, it's not a matter of Rob letting me. Why do you need to be such an asshole, Ryan? I'm trying to be friendly but you're not making it easy." He shrugs, "I have no fucking idea what you mean by that. Just drop it, okay?" and he holds out a five dollar bill, saying, "The coffees, remember?" Taking an exasperated deep breath, I mumble, "Coffees, right," and grab the five bucks.
Taking off my backpack, I say, "Watch my backpack, okay?" Ryan nods as I start up the steps, then he calls after me, "I'll be over at that bench near the trash can." I wave, indicating I heard him, and he carries my backpack with him as he walks toward the bench. Inside the Quad I get in the coffee line trying to figure out Ryan's mood. He probably assumed we'd get together after class and study together, or whatever. A logical assumption all things considered, but still, is it such a big deal that he'd get all moody like this simply because I can't hang out until after lunch? I could be misreading him; maybe he doesn't think it's a big deal one way or the other.
Maybe he's got some other problem I don't know about. Or maybe he's turned into an asshole.
Carrying the two paper cups of coffees outside I see Ryan standing next to the bench laughing with a guy I don't know. The other guy leaves as I'm coming up to Ryan, who's still chuckling. He takes his coffee, mumbling, "Thanks," then says, "That guy is in one of my classes. The kid struck up a conversation with me the minute I sat down in the seat in front of him. At first I'm like, what's up with this guy? He turns out to be a hot shit though.
He was trying to talk me into a card game he's setting up for tonight, and then every Friday night I suppose." We sit down as I ask, "You gonna play cards tonight?" He shrugs, "I don't know. Maybe if Steve comes along I will." Huh, why didn't he ask me to come along? I probably couldn't go anyway; Robby will have something planned for us tonight, and I definitely want to include Chubby in whatever we do. I mean, a Friday night in college, ya gotta do something.
While drinking our coffees we have a smoke and Ryan's more talkative now, but it's mostly about the way he and Mike broke up. Ryan prefers to think of it as Mike dumping him. He's asking me questions about how he should have
handled the various situations Mike and he found themselves in. Like I'm some kind of expert on relationships, which I'm not! There's not much I can say because from the examples Ryan gives it's like I'd be on Mike's side.
Then we make our way to the lecture hall and sit in the upper half of the hundred-seat room. We chose this course to fulfill a required elective in the humanities for both of us. It's not a junior course per se. Any student can elect it. After the orientation for this course the other day Ryan explained how we can do make-up work, or replace a bad test grade, by writing an easy extra credit paper. He said, Ryan, not the professor, that we could simply copy from short articles online. He had to tell me because I didn't pay too much attention to the orientation lecture. For one thing Professor Armbruster spoke in a boring quiet monotone. Today, in our first official class, he's still speaking in a monotone, but he's doing it loudly. That seems contradictory, but there it is.
Glancing around at the back of the students' heads in front of me, I stop at one. Holy shit, I think that's the back of Hoodie Boy's head. If so, that's very fortuitous; us in the same class and all... hmmm, fate? The suspected Hoodie Boy is sitting about ten rows right in front on the end. I always prefer end seats myself, when available. Huh, Hoodie Boy isn't wearing his hood in class, but I see a hood hanging over the back of his seat. Damn, that hoodie doesn't look right though, somehow. Jeez, if it's him though, he has a nice shaped head of pale red hair in a buzz cut. Oh boy, if that's him, and he's the one in ten, I'm gonna make friends, fer sure! From our brief encounter a little while ago I know he has blue eyes and a pale creamy complexion, sans freckles. Yeah, but I gotta wonder where he was hurrying to earlier because he had plenty of time to make this class on time.
Out of my peripheral vision I see Ryan's taking notes so I listen to Professor Armbruster for a bit, frown and look over at Ryan's notes trying to get a grasp of what the professor's talking about. It's too soon for me to be in the proper frame of mind for this classroom lecture stuff. Probably by the end of next week I'll get with the program. Back to staring at the kid who might be Hoodie Boy and, uh oh, trouble. He just turned to look left, toward the aisle, and his nose doesn't match the nose I remember seeing this morning. Yes, but the three times I've seen him have all been full face views. From the quick profile view just now it looked like he has a ski nose and it didn't look like that seeing him from the front. Oh man, I'm pretty sure that's not the same hoodie sweatshirt either. A ski nose and different sweatshirt? Nah, that doesn't bode well for him being Hoodie Boy. Balls! I finally need to admit that it's not him. Oh well, I try listening to the lecture now and occasionally try reading Ryan's notes. Approximately half a lifetime later, the professor says, "That's it for today. I appreciate those of you who paid attention. Please read the first fifty pages before next
week's class." Fifty pages, what the fuck? Everyone gets up at the same time and there's mumblings and a few laughs as I gawk down at the redhead. He gets up talking to the girl next to him. They're both grinning and I get a full look at him as they begin walking up towards me. It's not Hoodie, although this guy ain't bad at all. You know who this kid is; he's the third baseman with the cannon for an arm. The kid I was impressed with while watching the ball players in the stands with Beth and Frankie. It's him, I'm sure of it. The red hair and all... huh. When they're right next to me the girl giggles, leans into and hugs the impostor Hoodie Boy. A boyfriend/girlfriend situation no doubt. Well, lookie here... not only does he have a skinny ski nose, his mouth is too wide for his face. I gawk at the guy, who's paying no attention to me, and conclude he's the team's third baseman, I'll be damned. Ryan's grumpy, "What are you waiting for, Dylan? Let's get out of here." I give a cranky, "I was waiting for you," and we get in the flow of traffic going up the steps to the exit.
Outside the Ferguson Building, to make-up for being cranky inside, I give Ryan's shoulders a hug, asking him again, "We're getting together later, right?" He goes, "Text me, I don't know what I'm doing yet. Um, I couldn't help but notice instead of taking notes you were ogling that redheaded kid ten rows in front of us." I give him this look, like 'Say what?', then mutter, "I wasn't ogling anyone, I'm just not in the flow of things yet. Can I make a copy of your notes?" He says, "I suppose, but I'm not your secretary."
I go, "For one thing, there are no such things as secretaries anymore. The uber-PC term is now administrative assistant, and for another thing, fuck you! Keep your notes; I'll survive somehow without them." He goes, "Don't be so touchy. Steve has a printer that makes copies, so stop in my room and we'll make a copy." Huh, with the back of my hand at my nose, I go, "Damn, I can't do that. Rob's already waited almost an hour for me. His class started a half hour earlier then mine and my class is twenty minutes longer then his." Ryan pulls my hand away, saying, "Don't do that, Dylan." I look at him and he grins, saying, "Or I'll need to give you a spanking." We both grin as I mutter, "Horrors." He pats my shoulder, saying, "Text me, maybe we can get together this afternoon," and he walks to the right as I go left, toward the parking lot.
I'm thinking maybe I won't text him this afternoon. Mister Gloomy is becoming a pain in my ass. I've got better things to think about than what's wrong with Ryan?, like Robby. He's sitting in his pickup listening to 98.5, The Sports Hub, on the radio when I walked right up to the driver's window and tap on it smiling at him. Down comes the window and, with a straight face, he asks, "Can I do something for you, young man? Are you looking for your big brother who goes to this college?" I lean in and kiss his lips, then say, "I'm looking for my man, who's head of our household." He goes, "Well get in and I'll drive you around campus; maybe we can find him." Grinning, I go around and get in the passenger seat, then slide over to Robby and we have a fifteen second really hot sloppy wet kiss. I hug him around the neck trying to remember if there was a tiny bit of tension between us this morning. In the back of my mind there was something that I can't quite put my finger on. Then I remember it was Robby being real serious asking me, 'We're good, right?' It was just before we went our separate ways. Not sure why he asked that, and seeing we're obviously 'good' now, I don't mention it.
Instead I say, "I've got to read fifty fucking pages my first day of class for that sick course. Can you believe that shit?" He backs out of the parking spot, saying, "Well, yeah. It's a one day a week class, Dylan. And get this...
as it turns out I've got no assignment to do for my class." He drives us across route 114 with me saying, "Hey, no sense in me holding you up while I memorize fifty pages of facts. We'll go straight to the Mall and I'll do this later." He laughs as he turns into the entrance for The Royal Crown Estates, which is the pompous name of our apartment complex. Parked close to the back door, we're getting out of the pickup as Robby say, "I've got a better idea. I'll keep you company while you read those fifty pages."
Resigned, I mutter, "Yes, mommy."
Inside we drop our backpacks on a chair as Robby asks, "Want anything to drink?" I shake my head, then open my backpack and take out my Modern Society text book. Plopping down on the sofa, I turn to the first chapter titled 'Pop Culture' and read the introduction quickly. Robby gets a bottle of OJ and sits next to me watching me read until I burst out laughing, asking, "Are you going to stare at me all the way through the fifty pages?" He nods his head, grinning, "Yep, I like looking at you. You're pretty." I go, "Oh please! Guys aren't pretty!" I say that, but I've seen a few exceptional looking guys whose looks border on pretty. I've also seen straight guys who are cuter and better looking than their girlfriends. Taking a deep breath, like I'm doing heavy lifting, I continue reading with Robby still staring at me. I start purposely moving my lips as I read, like I'm some kind of retard. Robby laughs out loud, then gets his arm across my shoulders and gets in tight next to me, saying, "I want to read this too. It's interesting." It takes an hour to read the fifty pages. Finished I look at Robby, mumbling, "It is kind of interesting, isn't it?" Robby goes, "Almost like reading People magazine." He takes the book from my hands and drops it on the floor; then, without either of us saying anything, we begin a hot make-out on the sofa. Oh my God, I'm so into Robby. Everything about him is perfect, and he's not the least bit gloomy like you know who. Robby's the pretty boy, not me.
It's kind of a wild make-out lying on the sofa and wrestling with each other as our lips and tongues hungrily suck and lick together. I grab a fistful of his two-tone blond hair with him on his back and me on top of him.
After another lips smacking kiss I lift my head and stare into his bright blue
eyes, then bite my bottom lip thinking how thrilling it is to be with him like this. After exchanging feelings of love through our eyes, we go back to licking and sucking lips and tongues. I lightly drag my teeth down Robby's pink tongue, then our teeth scrape together as we kiss and take turns sucking on each other's top lip. It's like there's nothing else existing in our world except us and this sofa. We'd probably be embarrassed if someone was watching and listening to our murmurs and moans as sexual arousal reaches uncharted waters with our cocks pulsating in our underpants, dripping precum. How to predict the times when we're both sexually hot like this. Times when we drive each other mad with desire; it just happens on its own. So sexually hot we're grabbing at each other's jeans now, unbuttoning them and pulling down zippers. Then clumsy rustling around on the sofa for a few seconds getting our pants and jockey shorts off, flinging them to the floor.
After pulling our sweatshirts over our head we flop on the sofa again squirming against each other's naked body. We're getting sweaty as our hard boners slide together while our faces rub back and forth spreading mixed saliva. It gets a little grungy which only adds to our mutual arousal. I don't even remember by now how we started this perfect sexual encounter.
Gasping, then in an almost whine, Robby says, "Get up, Dylan. I'm like, "Huh?" and lift up looking at him quizzically, not sure what he means. He's sliding out from under me, gasping, "Lean over the arm of the sofa, babe." I nod, turn around on my knees and lean my belly on the arm of the sofa.
There's an end table in from of me and that's where I put my hands to steady myself. Robby smacks my ass, SMACK!" mumbling, "Get tight against the arm,"
so I spread my knees and snuggle up to the arm with my boner against my belly, flat up against the padded upholstery on the inside of the arm. Robby rustles around behind me with my asshole quivering with anticipation. The wet head of his cock pushes at my asshole, then, "Oooh, mmmm," it's inside me pressing against my prostate gland making my shoulders shudder. Robby's hips hump once forcing an inch and a half of his boner's shaft up my ass, then he leans forward slowly and the rest of it slides very tightly up inside me as we both go, "Ooooh, aaah." His cock is totally up my ass with his crotch pressing against my buttocks while his hands massage my shoulders. A buzzing chill runs down my spine as the pain of entry fades and then disappears.
Robby's puffing out short burst of air while letting my rectum get used to his fat boner. I've been told by a few guys who I've had sex with more than once, including Robby who's fucked me the most by a wide margin, that I have a magic ass because it's tight and elastic no matter how often I fuck.
All I know is my entire rectum is like one big nerve ending, favoring pleasure sensations. A freak of nature perhaps. Sure, it hurt initially from large quick intrusions, but can turn things around quickly to the pleasure mode, and then it just intensifies the longer and harder I'm fucked. That's the facts of the matter for my ass, although I can't speak for anyone else's ass. Maybe thirty seconds pass with Robby just humping against my butt cheeks without pulling back, and then he cups my shoulders with both hands and does a number of tight steady full thrusts. I can tell he's leaking a lot of precum because each trusts of his boner moves smoother then the one before it. I hear him do a deep breathy exhale, then mutter, "Here we go," and from experience with Robby I know this is going to be another hard fast ride to glory, and immediately my ears fill with the, "Slapslapslapslap,"
sounds of his crotch and the inside of his thighs smacking into my buttocks as his really hard fat boner rides back and forth in my ass. It's steady and fast creating a blizzard of sexual pleasure sensations. I moan, pushing my ass up with my back arching entering a world where only Robby and I exist.
My sex buddies who have fucked climaxes out of me the fastest are led by Timmy Dulson, the Marietta boys with a two inch cock. The bulbous head of his boner makes up the majority of his cock and some part of that fat head constantly stimulates my prostate. It's like constant maximum prostate stimulation that quickly milks my balls. Tracy brings on the second fastest climaxes; two and a half to three minutes of some of the hardest fastest fucking ever. Then Ryan's next when he feels like doing it fast, and Willie's close behind. Then, believe it or not, Ray Reeves is among the fastest too.
Every one of them, except Timmy, can also drag out an incredible, almost unbelievably long luscious fuck that gets me groveling in a sea of sexual pleasure and begging for a climax before they're finished with my ass. Then there's Robby who has brought me to climax as fast as Timmy at times, and that's mostly because he gets me incredibly sexily aroused with foreplay; gets me sexually excited like nobody else can come close to, plus I love him.
His cock is just as fat, although nowhere near as long, as the biggest cocks I've experienced, like Ryan's and Ray's. They're the heavy weights, although I can barely stand Ray as a person, and I'm not in love with Ryan. So, no matter if Robby's doing a slow lover's fuck with me, or a fast get our rocks off one, he does me best of anyone... he's my man! The best sex I've ever had in my life I've had with Robby, and obviously love has a lot to do with that.
This afternoon's extemporaneous recreational sex, initiated by Robby, is in this partially new position for us... utilizing the arm of the sofa. I like it because every thrust against my ass humps my boner against the inside of the sofa's arm, and in my mind I pretend Robby's squeezing my boner with each thrust of his hard cock up inside me. My eyes close and I can picture him squeezing my cock while his boner repeatedly disappears up my ass. He's slamming it back and forth inside me now and I'm going, "Oh, ooh, oooh!"
with every thrusts. There are lots of chills and thrills during a fast fuck like this. There are also so many sensations blossoming from my rectum's prostate and anus simultaneously it's almost like an embarrassment of riches.
It can get a little wild too with Robby getting reckless with his thrusting, both of us on the fast track to climax. My orgasm picks-up momentum building incredibly fast and the anticipation of climax has us both humping and thumping; me against the arm of the sofa and Robby slamming against me.
He's sort of hopping off the sofa when it hits me that my orgasm is about ready to burst, and then with a squeal it erupts with a stream of cum shooting from my hard boner with no place to go except to drool out between the sofa's arm and my belly. My whole body is shaking, the head of my cock burning as I push back away from the arm and Robby climaxes inside me at the same time my second stream of cum is flying up to splatters on my stomach. Then, "Ooooh," drools of cum as I get my hand under me squeezing and tightly stroking my cock. More drools and now I feel faint. Taking deep breaths as the burning subsides, I'm smiling now, shaking my head at my bizarre orgasm. I make a mental note to not have my cock plastered against anything at blast off. I should have pushed back when I felt it ready to blow, giving my spunk some breathing room.
Robby's breathing noisily and deeply as he slowly slides his cock in his own cum before pulling it out of my ass entirely. Sighing he lays on his back on the sofa with his legs resting on the arm, a leg on either side of me.
I wait a few seconds savoring the last twinges of climax that buzz around my groin, then turn around and grin at him, saying, "Okay, head of the household, here's today's pop quiz: what was that sex act we just had called?"
He pretends to think hard, scrunching his eyebrows and lips, then says, "Um, afternoon recreational sex?" making a question out of it. I go, "Very good, but what type of recreational sex?" Again with the pretend deep thinking, and, "Um, unexpected?" I go, "No, it's officially called extemporaneous recreational sex," and then I fall forward on top of him, my chest on his.
We kiss a couple of times and then I just lay here with him lightly rubbing his hands up and down my back. Nice, but we're sweaty and my cum is cooling between us; not that that's necessarily a bad thing.
We lie together like this catching our breath and letting our pounding hearts settle down. I could take a nap lying on Robby like this, except our cocks are squished together; his cock sloppy with his cum and my cum mostly on my belly, which makes things kinda sticky. The cum quickly transforms from a milky white creamy substance to a transparent wet one. When it's cooled off it's not especially pleasant having it spread between us. Lifting my head, I seriously say, "Did you know that cum doesn't travel up from our testicles at climax?" He blurts out a laugh, then goes, "No. I didn't know that. I thought it did." He said that in a pretend serious manner, mimicking me, like we're having a philosophical discussion. I go, "Well, it's partially manufactured in our balls but stored behind the bladder ready for climax when a person gets properly aroused... I think. Our balls manufacture the stuff and store enough behind the bladder for a number of ejaculations," He goes, "Frankly, it's no fun knowing that. It's more erotic to picture it churning around in our nuts until climax. Don'cha think?" I nod, "Definitely! That's the way I think of it and I'm not about to change just because I'm wrong." He grins, "You're never wrong," and we kiss some more and rub our noses together, then I slide down his body and take his damp sticky cock in my fingers. Looking up at Robby, I say, "I feel like sucking your cock."
He shrugs, "Go ahead," and I do. Grungy, yes, of course it is! I don't mind it though because it's our grunge.
Robby puts his hands behind his head and I slurp on his cock, mostly cleaning it at first. It stays limp for two full minutes, but I preserver and that fat penis of Robby's finally starts getting firm again. Taking his slippery penis from my mouth I stroke it about ten times, grinning and watching Robby biting his bottom lip while arching his back off the sofa. Still holding his hard cock in my fist, I walk up the sofa on my knees, one on either side of him. When my ass is over his latest boner, with me still holding it in my fist, but behind me now, we look into each other's eyes for a few seconds, then Robby says, "I dare you," and I drop my ass a little, then slide his cock's head to my asshole, hesitate a second and then sit on it all the way down to his crotch. Grinning I say, "Didn't hurt a bit," and Robby goes, "Ow." My cock got kinda hard while sucking Robby's, so I give my six inch pleasure rod a few strokes and, "Mmmm, nice..."
Moving around a little on the top of his thighs, his boner inside me presses against my prostate with my dick now really getting hard. Then I simply lift up on my knees a little, then drop down on his boner again, lift and drop until I'm in a nice rhythm and the sensations from millions of nerve endings are singing to us again. It takes a while but I start feeling the beginning of another orgasm so I drop down and stop, sensations still sizzling in my rectum. Robby's sucking on his lips, then he mutters, "Don't stop,"
and I whine, "My thigh muscles are getting sore." He waves his fingers, like, "Come here," saying, "Lean down to me." I lay on his chest, pulling his boner forward until it almost comes out of my ass. Robby gets his arms around my back and begins humping his hips up off the sofa, driving his boner back and forth in my ass. Oh God! In this position his boner puts pressure right on my prostate and within a minute I squeal with my mouth on his shoulder as cum streaks out wetting both our chest, then another little streak, my body tight, my stomach muscles clenching and getting one last little spurts of cum to shoots out. I'm gasping and shaking at the incredible sensation and then sigh as Robby grunts and shoots another load of spunk into my bowels.
We're really sweaty now as I'm limping lying on top of him, his sloppy cock out of my ass now and against my butt cheek. There's our normal heavy breathing after sex with our hearts thumping for a minute, then a mutual sighs and Robby rolls me off him onto the floor. I'm like, "Hey!" and he sits up chuckling and reaching a hand down to help me up. We both look at the wet spots around us on the sofa, new spots. We look at each other and shrug, then he goes, "This sofa is beginning to look like the seat in my pickup." I go, "Nah, it's got a long way to go before it comes close to the cum shots we've had on that pickup's front seat. Let's take a shower," and he says, "Then we'll buy you new sneakers at the Mall." I nod, "Then lunch." We get up walking towards the bedroom with Robby asking, "Where do you want to eat lunch?" I'm like, "One of the concession stands at the food court is fine by me." Robby asks, "You gonna watch us practice after that?" I go, "Yeah, I think I will." To hell with texting Ryan.
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 usually around 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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