DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 26
by Donny Mumford
Obviously Rob's not serious about having sex here in Ken's parking lot, so I ask, "Where we going for real?" He says, "If you don't mind, let's check out the reservoir." As he's backing-out of the parking spot I slide across
the bench seat and put my arm across his shoulders, snuggling up against him. He stops the pickup and looks at me with a questioning expression on his face, and I go, "Let's be retro tonight and drive the way high school kids drove circa the nineteen-fifties." Rob goes, "No, I don't think so. And how do you know what they did back then?" "I saw it in a Turner Classic movie. Not the whole movie, but the part where this cool-looking, bad-ass, high school guy with a cigarette between his lips had his elbow out the window racing another car to a cliff. His girlfriend sat right next to him with her arm around the guy's shoulders."
Rob looks at me, slowly shaking his head, mumbling, "Yeah, well this thank God this isn't the fifties! Get your ass over in the shotgun seat and put your seatbelt on." I'm like, "No! They didn't have seat belts in those days. They apparently didn't have air conditioning either because all the cars had the windows down." He laughs, "C'mon, get over there." I slide over, mumbling, "Again with the disrespectful attitude." He looks concerned, "Are you serious? I didn't mean..." and I go, "I'm kidding you! But, hmmm... now I have a secret weapon for whenever I don't like something I'll accuse you of being disrespectful." He mutters, "Don't joke about me being disrespectful, Dylan, we had our first fight about that."
Rob's a serious guy at heart, a very sincere person basically, so I won't tease him by using the disrespect card. That would be taking advantage of him, which I won't do, even though it'd be fun. Nah, I click on my seatbelt and change the subject, "Are you under the impression I don't like the reservoir spot, Rob, because...?" He goes, "Nooo, I know you like it... that's why I choose it." He grins at me, "To please you, baby." He pulls into traffic as I go, "Huh! Ya know, I never thought I'd like being calling 'babe' or 'baby', but I do like it when it's coming from you. Nobody else is allowed to call me that though." Yeah, except Ryan often called me that in Georgia which didn't freak me out because somehow he made it sound like a nickname. When Robby calls me that it feels like a term of endearment, and that's sweet. When you get right down to it, 'babe' and 'baby' are probably the only sweetheart names we could get away with. Certainly not 'pumpkin', 'honey', 'sweetie' or any number of other sappy words heterosexuals use for terms of endearment. 'Babe' and 'baby' are even used by straight guys calling a friend or teammate that. Not as a term of endearment obviously. Then there's the Baby Ruth candy bars that somehow came about because of Babe Ruth, the super baseball player from the thirties; the one with the pot belly who hit sixty home-runs one year.
Driving on route 9 east, Rob says, "A dollar for your thought," and I go, "I was still thinking about you calling me, 'babe' or 'baby' and how it sounds okay coming from you." He goes, "We call teammates weirdly affection names at times too. When I call you 'baby' though it's with all the affection I have for you in my heart." I go, "Oooh, I know that and it's kinda nice, but we're getting sappy again." He shrugs, and I add, "Not that I care. It's just the two of us here so we can be as mushy and sappy as we want in our private world." Rob's thinking, then he mumbles, "Yes, our private world," then he glances at me, and says, "Now that I think about it though, it wouldn't sound right you calling me 'baby', private world or not. Why is that?" I go, "Huh! Yeah, I'm not sure why, but you're right." He shrugs, muttering, "That's odd." I try it out, "You're driving really well, baby," and we both go, "Noooo! That don't work! Creepy!!"
Ten minutes later the pickup's bouncing onto a gravel road leading to Reservoir Road. A half mile later Rob turns onto the reservoir's dirt road and we pass the 'DO NOT ENTER/ROAD CLOSED' sign, then go over the chain that used to block further entry. The pickup's headlights shine out over the edge of the reservoir fifty yards in front of us, and when Rob turns the headlights sweep over the area and we see we're alone, which is a first for us here. Rob comes to a stop and turns off the headlights, but leaves the engine running. The rain clouds that dropped an inch of rain on us this afternoon have drifted away and the moon and stars shine brightly in the night sky.
Rob mumbles, "Clear night, babe," and I go, "Uh huh, full moon too." We undo our seat belts and he slides over away from the steering wheel, saying, "Okay, now what was it the girls did in the fifties with their boyfriends?"
I put my arm across his shoulders, and tell him, "The girlfriend almost sits on the guy's lap, but maybe that only applies when participating in a drag race toward a cliff and certain death." He asks, "Did they go over the cliff?" I shake my head, "Nah, one of the drivers chickened-out. I forget what happened after that. There was a kid on a scooter who I think might have been gay. Basically they couldn't make movies worth a shit back then. They didn't even use profanity, which is so phony." Pretending it's a serious question, Rob asks, "Did they fuck in old movies?" I go, "God forbid! No, of course not. They barely kissed." He mumbles, "Well that blows."
My arm moves off Rob's shoulder to go around the back of his neck and, pulling his head over, I press my face against the side of his head, murmuring in his ear, "I can hardly believe how enormously aroused you make me, Rob.
You smell sexy-good too." I take a deep inhale, "Mmmmm." His arm goes behind my waist and he hugs me as I hug his neck, then give the side of his forehead a ten second kiss. He murmurs, "You're going to make me cry the way you love me so much. I feel your love more than ever and it means more to me than I can say. I really don't know what I've done to deserve your extra love, but it makes my heart glow and I need to pinch myself to be sure I'm not fantasizing about you again." I lift my left leg over his legs and sit on his lap facing him, then kiss his lips and quietly say, "I don't know what it is exactly either, Rob. It's everything about you; an accumulation of the sweet forgiving love you've shown me over the past three-plus years.
It just hit me one day, 'BANG!' and I've been helplessly attracted to you ever since. I love you so much it's stupid." He snorts out a chuckle, then we kiss a long sloppy kiss. After a few more kisses, I lie against him with the sides of our faces touching as I murmur, "I wish I could cuddle with you like this for hours and hours every day on some desert island of our own. Just you and me."
We sit silently for a few minutes: me on his lap, a knee on either side of him, my chest against his, my forehead on his shoulder, the sides of our heads together and Rob's arms around me. I can't snuggle against his strong body enough to suit me. Finally Rob quietly asks, "Um, does your extra-strong love for me have anything do with Frankie?" Lifting my head off his shoulder, I look him in the eyes, "No, I don't think so. Why would you even mention her name?" He shrugs, and I add, "I think it's just you, Rob, the boy who's turned into a young man before my eyes. It's everything about you.
And fuck bringing Frankie into the discussion, if you don't mind me saying so." Rob sort of looks startled at that. So I add, "I swear to God, lately I get sexy shivers just watching you do something, do anything. You're perfect in my eyes." He looks down taking a deep breath, then mumbles, "I'm very far from perfect, Dylan. You're much closer to perfection than me." I go, "To me you're perfect," He shakes his head, "No, I'm not! And, Goddammit, I need to confess something that's been very fucking troubling to me." I lean my forehead against his, murmuring, "No..., you don't need to do any such thing." He says, "Yeah, I do." Wondering what the fuck is it now, I pull my head back as Rob shakes his head, muttering, "This is hard." I go, "Then tell me later, Rob. I don't need to hear it now... or ever for that matter." I wanted a romantic evening, not true confessions that I could do myself for hours on end. Nobody needs that...
Rob thinks about it a second, then mumbles, "No, I need to clear my conscience." I blow out my cheeks, exhaling noisily, muttering, "Go ahead then."
Even though Rob and I have agreed not to share side-sex experiences with one another, I am kind of interested. I'm curious as to which one of his teammates is gay and became attracted to Rob. It's not common at all, and a long shot Rob and Danny connected like they did. Rob nods, "Yeah, well. Oh Jesus! Um, first of all, I wasn't playing XBOX before I got home this afternoon." he takes another deep breath, then says, "I wanted to get it out of the way and be done with it." I'm like "You wanted to quick the XBOX competition?" He makes a face, muttering, "That too, but what I'm referring to is Frankie and I experimenting with, um, sex, um I mean fucking. We did it right after Friday's class. I wanted her to stop reminding me we need to try it." Holy shit! Now I'm paying attention, "She was getting on my nerves about it, and I wanted to put it behind me. She, I don't know, but it's different trying to deal with a girl. I mean, we gave up on making-out together, which didn't come close to getting me aroused. I told you about that. I kinda thought that would be the end of that, but she kept encouraging me to give sex a try."
I go, "The bitch!" He shakes his head, "No, she's okay. I think she thought she was helping me learn about myself, at least that's what she kept telling me, or some such shit like that. She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer and I didn't want to insult her further. I mean, I think she was hurt when the making-out was such a disaster. Anyway, she thought if she sucked my cock we'd be able to try it... try fucking, I mean."
He's rubbing his face, so I ask, "Well, did it work?" He shrugs, "Not at first, no. She was giving it a good try alright, but it wasn't working until
I looked down at her blond hair and pretended she was you. To make a long story short I finally got a boner, she quickly put a condom on my dick and I fucked her. She got stupidly aroused, groveling under me moaning and saying dumb encouraging stuff until I finally had a half-hearted climax and pulled out, disgusted with myself but glad it was over once and for all." I ask, "So you didn't like it, huh?" He shakes his head, "Um, it was really different and I did climax, but it didn't feel right to me. There's a bone or something in her twat that really stimulates a cock. I don't know what it was, but it was way different! So, I needed to confess that to you, and I just did, so... that's it." I mutter, "Ewww," and he says, "It was so phony of me to try sex with a girl. It wasn't fair to Frankie, you, or me. She got pissed-off at my reaction and we had this big fucking argument. That's why I was bitchy to you about the dry-cleaning and everything when I got home. I feel ashamed about everything about that so-called curiosity-experiment. I have less than zero curiosity left about anything to do with sex. I knew what I wanted before I started that, and it's you I've always wanted, now and forever."
He didn't look at me once while telling me all that. I guess that's part of the reason why his sex with me seemed so desperate three or four hours after he did it with her. To prove something to himself maybe. The poor guy.
I'm not sure what to say because I'm strangely not pissed-off about it.
Maybe because it was such a colossal failure, and he wore a condom, and he confessed to me the same day it happened, and he obviously feels terrible about it. The best part for me is hearing they had a big fight afterwards. Heh heh, too bad, bitch! Robby goes, "Please say something, Dylan," so I ask, "If you did it right after your morning class, what'd you do between then and seeing me at the apartment like four hours later?" He still won't look at me, as he mumbles, "Well, like I said, Frankie and I had a shouting match, but mostly I was really pissed off at myself. I felt manipulated and stupid. Storming out of her dorm I was fucked-up in the head so I stayed in the library thinking about what I did and why I did it. I'd like to blame it all on her, but it was a joint fuck-up, no pun intended. Two nitwits doing it for completely opposite reasons. I thought I wanted my curiosity satisfied, but our failed make-outs already pretty much satisfied my curiosity about me, girls, and anything to do with sex. I guess Frankie wanted to convert me to her side of the street so she kept pressuring me to try fucking. Oh, and I forgot to tell you the most evil part. The part that made me feel stupid. During our fight she screamed an admission that she, Frankie, had a bet with Beth that she could entice me into switching boyfriend, um, girlfriends... oh fuck! You know what I mean: get me to give up you for her." I mutter, "That cunt! And it was all about winning a bet? That's sick, and I don't believe her anyway. She wanted you."
Rob slowly lifts his eyes to look into mine, meekly saying, "You're, um, being awfully calm about this," and I say, "I feel bad for you, Rob. Mostly because you feel so bad about it yourself. And I'm glad you found out what you were curious about, and mostly I'm glad that you're done with it now."
He mutters, "I wanted to be done with it weeks ago, but Frankie..." I go, "To hell with her. You satisfied your curiosity." He frowns, "Yeah, I did... more than satisfied it actually. And you say you've never been curious about what it'd be like having sex the way ninety percent of humanity does it? With the opposite sex, I mean." I shrug, "Nope, I never thought about it, but that's just me. After fat Carl 'outed' me I gave it a lot of thought and concluded I've always been strictly interested in guys. Chubby and I led a life of almost isolated solidarity throughout our early years of puberty... just the two of us for years. We had friends, but we always hung-out together. Mostly because of the unique situation we were in of mostly raising
ourselves. I never thought about girls, ever. Then I interacted with some girls during my lost summer with Ray and the posse boys learning that girls can be cool too, but not sexually. It's like I never thought about girls sexually any more than I thought about, um, being a bank robber or a garbage collector. Some things you just don't think about. Different things for different people."
I'm still facing him, sitting on his lap and now running my fingers back through the longish hairs on top of his head. He finally asks, "So you're not royally pissed-off and disgusted with me?" I grin, saying, "Let's not get carried away..." and he goes, "No, seriously," and I say, "I already told
you; I feel bad for you. The fact you have a huge guilty conscience about it factors in as well." He mumbles, "I couldn't wait to have sex with you to, um, feel real again. I'm sorry Frankie thinks it was insulting to her, but I was basically repulsed by the sex. During our fight afterwards I told her I needed to think of you in my head to complete the act." I go, "You told her that?" and he's like, "Yeah, after she told me the only thing she was interested in was winning the bet with Beth. Wow, I can't remember anyone as angry and insanely pissed-off as she got when I told her about closing my eyes and pretending it was you." I snicker with delight and he grins, saying, "Yeah, I thought for a second there Frankie and I were going to have an actual physical fight." Hmmm, wouldn't that have been something.
Frankie has no idea what ferocity lies under Rob's normal demeanor. Then, unable to pass up an opportunity for alliteration, I mutter, "It was all about bitchy Beth's bet, huh?" Rob snorts out a chuckle, and I go, "Like I said, I think she's full of shit about that though. She may have had a bet, but she was primarily after you and when you rejected her, only then did she says it was all about the bet. By then she was into face-saving mode." Rob shrugs, "Well, she was one pissed off bitch, I know that much!" and we both laugh. Rob goes, "We did not leave as friends I can tell you that much." Ooooh, that's a shame...
Finally I say, "Is there any more to tell?" He goes, "Jesus, isn't that bad enough?" I nod, "Yeah, I wonder if they'll be fallout from Francesca?" He goes, "I won't be surprised if my pickup truck's tires get slashed, but other than that I don't know what to expect. She really turned vicious." I go, "Yeah, a woman scorned, or some such shit." Rob frowns, "What's that mean?" I go, "I'm not sure, but it sounds good. I heard it some where." He shakes his head, half grinning, "You're something, babe." I go, "Heh heh, I'm something all right. Anyway, none of this is so hideous you need to continue beating yourself up about it, Rob. She's the one who pushed the project, so to speak. If you ask me, she had a lot of fucking nerve getting pissed at you because you didn't like sex with her. For chrissakes you told her we were gay lovers the first day she pulled that phony fan club shit." Rob's feeling better, "Yeah, you're right, Dylan." I go, "Here's what I think: Frankie and Beth started out with a crush on you, for which I don't blame them, but then they turned it into a plot where Frankie lures you to the other side. She apparently thinks she's irresistible even to gay guys. She likes baseball, gets her hair cut sort of like mine, and figures she could be your boyfriend and girlfriend wrapped-up in one." He nods, "That's what I think too." I shrug, "Well there you go. Don't waste your pity on her! As for me, it's well known I'm one of the world's most forgiving boyfriends. I'm willing to chalk it all up to a blown side-sex attempt; nothing more and nothing less. The only mistake you made was breaking our code by discussing that rather unfortunate side-sex with me." He snorts out a chuckle, adding, "I thought this might qualify as a unique case of side-sex, one that I should probably tell you about." I say, "Well you did, and now I hope we can put this tawdry topic away forever." He goes, "Okay by me, but I still wonder what she might do about it." I go, "I'll put my brother on her case. He'll squash repercussions from her, or he'll squash her." Robby's like, "Jesus, don't tell Jeff, or anyone else." I go, "No? Okay, but she'll probably be blabbing all over the place." He mumbles, "If she does I'll deal with it then." I'm like, "On the other hand, why would she want to advertise her failure?" He shrugs, "Who knows with girls." I'm like, "You know what you should have done," Rob shakes his head, and I go, "Rolled her over and fucked her up the ass. She wanted to be like me, so..." He shakes his head being serious, "Somehow I still feel bad for her."
There doesn't seem to be anywhere to go from here on that topic, so I slide off Rob's lap, saying, "Let's have a smoke outside and ServPro this entire topic." I'm opening the door as Rob asks, "ServPro, whaddaya mean?" I go, "You don't know about the ServPro cleaning service? Their motto is, 'We'll clean it up like it never even happened!' or words to that effect. They clean-up after a fire or flood, and other messes like that. You and I need to start this evening over as if this discussion and the reason for it never even happened." Shivering in the chill of a November night in Massachusetts, Rob light us two Marlboros and passes one to me, saying, "ServPro? The goofy things you come up with never ceases to amaze me." Taking a drag off my smoke, I go, "What can I expect at work tomorrow?" and he laughs out loud, coughing on his inhaled smoke. Laughing so hard his eyes are watering.
Finally he goes, "Jesus, that was a subtle change of topic." I go, "About as subtle as a sledge hammer, but seriously, what will I be doing." He smirks, saying, "Whatever the fuck I tell you to do," and I go, "That's the spirit, boss! Get right back up on that horse." Rob frowns, muttering, "What horse?" "Never mind...."
Then we do talk about what I'll do at work and, from what I can tell, I'll
apparently be a gofer office-boy running around writing down what the manager's want for coffee, and then I get the coffees and deliver them to whoever. And then the same for lunch. When not doing that I'll check with Mr.
Dickers' administrative assistant, and do whatever she says. When I'm done that, I'll work on one of the projects Rob hopes I can do for him so he doesn't need to do it. He tries explaining a project, but it's a computer project and he needs to show me on the computer. His explanation isn't computing in my head, ya might say. We stay outside, with the truck still running, for ten minutes or so, and when we get back in I tell Rob, "Seriously, Rob, I appreciate that you confiding in me about that disturbing situation. It did qualify as a unique side-sex experience." He smiles, "I'm glad I told you. You're basically the only person who I care what you think about me.
And thanks for being so understanding and supportive." Inside we're hugging to get warm, the atmosphere now free of confessions.
I ask, "Hmmm, where were we?" then I mumble, "Oh, yeah," and I sit back on his lap facing him. Reaching behind Rob's head I get a fistful of his longish hair at the crown of his head, saying, "Now I'm going to ravage your body." Pulling his hair, getting his head back, I say, "And I'm starting my ravaging with your sexy mouth," and my mouth covers his. Robby gets his arms around me and hugs my body against him as we suck on each other's tongue and lips, then get into some deep kissing with me going up on my knees and kissing down on his rosy lips; lips that are sexily not too full, and not too thin. His bright pink tongue is just right for licking and sucking and our saliva mixes and surrounds both out mouths. It all gives me a dreamy gooey feeling in my nuts. I'd like to climb inside his body so our blood mixes
together and our naked hearts beat as one. I'm moving my face against his, our noses rubbing, our foreheads rubbing, our chins rubbing until I stop, to gasp, "I'm gonna cum." We don't move for a minute, just doing some deep breathing. As we wait for my climax sensations to abate we breathe right into each other's face, our eyes locked together, our hearts pounding fast in our chests until, I murmur, "I'm okay, I'm good."
Rob takes a gasping breath, saying, "Suck me off, Dylan, I'm getting blue balls. Please, babe." I nod my head and, as my boner throbs in my pants, I slide off his lap getting between his legs kneeling on the floor of the truck. I unzip his fly, open the button on his khakis and see the head of his boner sticking out though the fly of his boxer shorts. The head is wet with precum as I fish out the rest of his hard penis and lick off the precum.
Then suck and tongue the head until Robby, with a hands on either side of him, lifts his ass off the seat, going, 'Aaaaa, aaah, oooh fucccck, that feels good." I suck most of the shaft into my mouth and lick it. Then I leave his boner resting on my bottom teeth as I imitate Daryl's cock-sucking technique. Rob lifts himself off the seat again moving his hard cock on my teeth, moaning, "Ooooh." A few little humps of his hips and he climaxes in my mouth. Cum streams into my mouth, lots of cum as I shake, gasp, then cum in my pants. Another long string of cum wets my boxer shorts as I quietly moan and rub myself from outside my khaki pants.
Robby's lying back on the seat taking some deep breaths while I'm still on my knees feeling orgasmic sensations zipping around my groin before fading out. As climaxes go, this one was not a great one, but then the worst climax I've ever had was pretty damn good, and this wasn't even close to the worst one. My tongue's moving around my mouth as I suck on my lips tasting my boyfriend's semen. "C'mon up and sit next to me, Dylan," as he holds his hand down. I take his hand and pull myself off my knees, then plop down beside him. Rob wraps me in his arms and kisses the side of my head, murmuring, "In case you were wondering, you're still gonna get fucked in this pickup tonight." I snuggle against him, murmuring, "I loved sucking your cock, Rob. And your spunk taste good too." "What's it taste like?" I shrug, "Tastes like your cum. Nothing else tastes like it so I can't compare it to anything. It's triple-A semen, five-star semen... simply the best." Rob chuckles, muttering, "You're really something."
As my cum cools in my pants, we do some sweet kissing, rubbing our faces together, our hand on the back of each other's head, our fingers in the other's hair. My torso squirms against his and there is nothing I'd rather be doing than this, except what's coming later. After a while we're quiet with my head on Rob's shoulder and his arms around me. He breaks the peaceful silence pointing out the windshield, quietly saying, "I see your face in the stars, Dylan. Look." I look out the windshield and, with pretend enthusiasm, say, "Oh my God, see that constellation on the right. It looks exactly like my dick." Sitting closely together we make up bull-shit constellations, "Look, Rob, there's the outline of your pickup truck!" Or he'll say, "Dylan, no shit, look over there. The stars spell out Merrimack," and I'll go, "Oh yeah! That's so cool! " We're laughing at our nonsense while leaning on each other or squeezing an arm or mussing up the other's hair... ya know, constant touching. It's our private world that no one else is allowed in, and no one else would understand it anyway. We can act silly or serious or however we feel like when we're in this private world of being together. We say things we'd never say to anyone else, and do things we'd never share with an outsider... and everyone on the planet is an outsider except us.
We've been in the car with the engine running and the heater blasting for over an hour, but we left Ken's before nine o'clock so it's still only ten-thirty, and we're in no rush. We took our jackets off five minutes after getting back in the truck after our smokes, and now on a whim I take off my shirt. Robby says, "Good idea. It's hot in here," and he takes his off tossing it on top of mine in the back seat. Grinning, we rub our bare chest together and start another make-out doing it slow, like lover's do it. Not even hot sub/dom sex, or any other kind of sex arouses me like being with Robby. That wasn't always the case but it is now, and it's been pretty much like this since I returned from Georgia, and especially since we moved in together at college. I'll get so infatuated by him at times I can barely catch my breath. Everything about his body, and face, and his smell excites me.
His voice makes me tingle all over at times and I love watching him concentrate in class, or on the baseball diamond, or doing anything. And tonight I'm even more impressed with him than usual because he told me about his failed experiment with her, and how it seems unlikely we'll be seeing those conniving girls around anymore. I'll try getting Robby to join Pony and me with our running. That'll screw-up my Tuesday and Thursday extracurricular workout with Daryl, but we'll find another time for that. Having Rob with me instead of him being with those losers playing in the XBOX tournament is worth rescheduling Daryl's and my extra workouts.
Robby murmurs, "I have an urge to get naked," and I murmur back at him, "Go ahead. I was contemplating the same thing." The inside of the truck is hot and we're sweating, but it seems sexy somehow. We undress throwing our pants, underwear, socks and shoes go over onto the back seat. I had to peel off my boxer shorts, sticky with my own cum. Rob says, "Hey, baby, how about
getting on my lap like before." I straddle him, my hands holding onto the back of his neck as we adjust our positions, getting comfortable. Our semi-firm cocks nestled together, the head of mine in Rob's pubic hairs and his against my hairless groin next to my scrotum. "This is nice, isn't it, babe?" I nod, "The best, Rob," and we lean our bodies together and make-out some more. I never get tired of making-out with him. I like holding hands, making out, laying together, having sex, and everything else we do together as long as there's touching.
It's silent in the pickup's cab except for our wet mouth sounds. Our eyes close as we kiss and lick with our cocks again getting harder and harder.
I've been known to slip into trances when highly aroused. Being naked with him as we rub our bodies together, kissing and licking, our lips and tongues in constant motion puts me into one of those dreamy trances. This trance is filled with love rather than one that's purely sexual or submissive. Sex is involved, but love is dominant among my emotions and it's a beautiful thing to feel the way I do. Robby's voice, a voice I'd know if a thousand people were talking at once, comes to me from far away as he murmurs, "Lift up, baby, and ride my boner." I try opening my eyes but my eyelids feel lazy and heavy as I lift up on my knees, putting my forehead against his. Robby guides his hard cock to my anus and I lower my ass until I feel his fat cock's head spreading, spreading, spreading the lips of my asshole and, "Ummm, oooh!" it snugly slides past my sphincter. Robby's body is tense for a second, them from him comes a gasping, "Ooooh, that feels good."
Holding my position a few seconds, then dropping down two inches, my stretched rectum complains with some pain. My arms go around the back of Robby's neck, his arms around my back hugging me, the sides of our heads tightly together as I drop down onto his lap, then hold my breath as lightning goes off behind my eyes for a moment and there's silent screaming in my rectum.
I wait for the pleasure that's coming quickly to the rescue. Rob grunts and moves on the seat letting out a gasping breath. Then he rubs the side of his head against mine, murmuring, "You okay, babe?" I nod and lift up until the bulbous head of his cock distends my anus. Holding there for a second, then I slide down again with minimal pain. After doing it again, I take a deep breath and begin steadily fucking myself on his cock. As always it feels fantastic with my boner bobbing between us and me moaning, "Hmm, hmm, hmm," with every trip down, then up. Fucking this way is one of my favorites.
We don't do it as often as I'd like, but I prefer Rob choosing our positions for sex. Right now we're connected, penis and rectum with so much of our bodies touching it's almost like we're one person.
Sometimes I'll drop down only an inch or so, then lift and drop an inch or so again, and do it ten times because the very fat hard smooth head of his cock is constantly against my prostate causing me immense pleasure. My teeth clenched together as the stimulation on my prostate gland causes a rushing sensation of impending orgasm. Just before climax though, I sit all the way down on his legs to snuggle against him, and to put a temporary stop to the climax urge. Indescribably pleasurable feeling continue as I sit on his lap impaled by his fat sex organ. A feeling of oneness and shared sex and love swarms all over me. When Rob gets antsy and humps his hips a little I rise and drop rhythmically for a minute or two with both of us breathing loudly in between quiet moans of sexual pleasure. We can go eight or ten minutes like this until Rob's climax sensations are too strong to resist and, like now as he gets his arms around my back lifting me a little, then he holds me tightly against his chest as his hips explode driving his boner back and forth in my ass until I squeal, stiff as a board humping my hips and shooting cum out in four quick spurts hitting Rob's bare chest as he's pouring his cum up my ass. We're two stiff-bodied lovers in our private world of sexual pleasure that last, at its peak, five to ten seconds. A quick few seconds of glorious sensations that dominate every part of us from our brains to our toes. Spiking sensations of intense pleasure before we're able to gasp and relax, almost stupefied that it could feel that awesome even though we've felt it a hundred times before. It's always shocking in only the best ways when our orgasmic climaxes sends us momentarily into another dimension, and then real life floods back to our consciousness and we once again appreciate each other's role in the just completed sexual experience.
There's nothing like sexual climax for sheer bodily pleasure. Nothing I know of anyhow.
We lay against each other sweating and breathing hard until we both catch our breath and our hearts stop trying to beat their way out of our chests.
Then a wonderful feeling of happiness for being able to bring pleasure to one another. Again I become aware of all Rob's familiar physical attributes, his attractiveness and scent and the feel of his body... and the love I have for him. It's almost surreal as I'm lazily running my fingers through his hair again, our sweaty faces together. I feel the sweat between his arms and my back and between the back of his neck and my arms with his cock still up my ass, and it's perfection. Ahhh yes, it's perfection. Lifting my head, I smile, murmuring, "Nice, Rob. Very nice," and he grins, mumbling, "This never gets old, does it?" I shake my head, "No, it doesn't. You say that every time," and he goes, "No I don't." We kiss, then I lift up... our eyes opening wide when his cock flops out of my ass, and we both go, "Oooh, fuck," then chuckle.
Rob mutters, "Boyfriend, this is a messy situation we have here. My cum from your ass is drooling out on my legs, and your cum is all over my chest."
Chuckling, I reach over to the box of tissues in the door's pocket, I'm like, "You caused all of it." I grab a bunch of tissues and hold them against my asshole while swinging my leg over to get off Rob's lap, and sit down beside him. We both exhale as he goes, "I gotta say though, sex with you is worth the mess, babe. That was awesome!" I ask, "When do ya think you're getting the new truck?" That makes us both laugh out loud at how ludicrous a non sequitur that was. From great sex to 'when you getting a new truck?' I go, "I don't know what made me ask that. Maybe I was thinking about the huge number of times we've fucked in this truck, doing it in every position we could think of." He goes, "Yeah, remember when I had you head-first under the dashboard with me plowing your ass? We got a little carried away that night." I'm nodding my head, "Yeah, but seriously, isn't it fascinating it never gets old?" Rob nods, "I wonder if it ever will?" I shrug, "It gets old for some, hence all the divorces in the world." Rob's using tissues wiping some of my cum off his chest, mumbling, "And in the beginning they probably never thought it'd get old for them." I say, "Losers. We're more special than that, Rob. It's unlikely there are huge numbers of people who do sex, and love it, in the amount we do it and love it." He says, "Yeah, we've had a good three-year test-run of doing it and loving it, and yet the drop-off of pleasure has been zero." I'm like, "It's better than that! We're doing it and loving it more than ever before, and increasing the pleasure. Now, how about that new truck?" We laugh, then he says, "No, I'm afraid Dickers and Son are not incurring any new expenses until the big job starts generating revenue."
We go back to complimenting ourselves for the great sex we have together.
We're sexually satisfied, pleased to death that we're with each other, but we do eventually run out of things to say about it. We finally exchange 'looks' and he goes, "Yeah, let's get dressed." We get dressed in our sweaty, cum-sticky condition and, after throwing the used tissues out the window, Rob drives us safely away from the reservoir and back onto the blacktop road we came in on. His parents are in bed by the time we get home, so we take separate quick showers and get in our beds before midnight. Damn good Friday night! Before sleep I think how Rob felt he owed it to Frankie to try fucking when she was actually taking advantage of how nice he basically is. I mean, after the unsuccessful make-outs you'd think she'd get the message. Hell their last make-out Robby broke out laughing saying it just wasn't working for him and he was willing to give up the experiment. Not her though. Then the fight Frankie and Rob had because he was honest in telling her she doesn't arouse him sexually. I can see where that was a dagger in Frankie's ego.
The thing I don't get is she knew he was gay from the start so how much of a super arrogant ego she must have to think she could change him. Then she yells at him that it was all about a bet she had with Beth. I say bull shit to that. She has, or had, a thing for Rob and in the end, after her best efforts, she was rejected and the venom came out. What she might do now is anybody's guess. As for me, I could go with a little less femininity around the apartment, and a little more Robby around me.
That's my last conscious thought before Rob's saying, "Dylan, Dylan wake up. My eyes blink open, "What's wrong, Rob?" He grins, "Nothing's wrong. You gotta get up for work now." I look out the window and see brightness, and groan, "You gotta be shitting me. I fell asleep ten minutes ago." He chuckles and gets hold of my wrist pulling me out of bed. He's already dressed.
He says, "I'll see you downstairs. Five minutes, okay?" I nod, then look at myself and grin. I'm wearing pajamas. Well good for me. In the hall bath I do what I need to, and then back in my bedroom, er, Dodger's bedroom, I see Rob's laid out my clothes. Dry-cleaned khaki pants and button down the front blue dress shirt. Huh, and there's the bluish tie I picked out from Rob's tie collection yesterday. Finished dressing, I wear the same shoes I had on last night and go downstairs practicing a smiley good-morning for his parents. Wasted effort though as they've already apparently left. Rob has a take-out cup of coffee for me, saying, "C'mon, lets go, babe." I nod sipping my too-hot coffee and glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, then check my wristwatch because that clock can't be right. But yes, it's five after six. I go, "Rob, what the fuck? The meeting's at seven." He goes, "As owners, Dad and I want to be the first ones in the office." Oh brother! Following him out the back door, I ask, "Your mom's there already too?" He shakes his head, "No, she's still sleeping." I'm thinking it's a damn good thing I had my PJ's on. She could have wandered out of her bedroom when I was going to the bathroom. It's a relatively short ride to work and when we walk into the building it's fully lit up at six-twenty. Robby says, "My office is around the corner." He's got an office already? I'm like, "You've got an office while still in college?" He says, "Sure, and here it is."
Okay, it's an inside office without a window, but the furniture is brand new.
Wall to wall commercial type carpeting, but nice looking. There's a small package on his desk. There's also a side section to his desk with a computer,
and a narrow table against the wall. His office also has two guest chairs in front of the desk, a land line telephone and a landscape picture on the wall. The office looks to be about twelve feet by ten feet. Nothing in here looks particularly expensive; the furniture is mostly metal and modern looking. Not at all like the lavish mahogany furniture you see in offices for big shots in the movies. Rob's office looks functional and it has a name tag outside the door with his name on it. No title though. I ask, "What's your title here at Dickers and Son, Inc.?" He goes, "So far it's, 'son'. Ha ha, I don't have a title yet. That'll be after I graduate." Then he snaps his fingers, "Wait a second. I think this package might be my business cards," and he picks up the wrapped box sitting on his desk and opens it. Taking out a business card, he says, "Hey, I do have a title. I'm assistant to the president. Pretty cool, huh? These cards are new. First time I've seen them." Then he goes, "A more accurate title would be assistant to the president's administrative assistant, but that's probably too long for a title."
He's kinda cute with this business rigmarole.
I'm just smiling and enjoying seeing Rob happy. I go, "Really nice office, Rob!" He shrugs, "Thanks. I only saw it for the first time last weekend. I was hardly in here at all though because we stayed overnight at the Westborough job site." I'm nodding, and he says, "Well, let's get down to business. I'm going to print-out your work schedule. By the way, I'm putting you on the clock as of six-thirty." He types on the computer for three minutes, then hits 'print'. Picking up the printed paper he shows me my schedule.
6:30 to 7:00... work for Rob. 7:00 to 9:00 work for Admin. Assistant (Dottie Scouser) 9:00 take coffee orders for managers and Dottie, then buy coffees and deliver them. (Try not to take more than a half hour) 9:30 to noon work for Dottie. 12:00 take lunch orders (everyone has a Domino's menu for takeout). Buy lunches and deliver them. Check in with me after that. You might be working with Dottie again, or hopefully you'll be working for me.
We'll play it by ear the rest of the day (probably until 7:00). He reads it to me and at least I know sort of what I'll be doing, although the coffee and lunch orders sound like a humongous pain in my ass. It's $20 an hour though, and if we work twelve hours today. Yipes! $240 for one day.
Robby gives me a laptop and says, "I'm hooking you up to a program," and he taps on the computer. Blinking onto the screen are columns of numbers for various types of loam. Rob says, "Loam is basically dirt to you and me.
All these companies sell it," and he traces his finger down a list of company names. He goes, "I want to find the lowest cost for two tons of loam, delivered to Westborough, MA. There's fifty companies listed within our delivery area. They list the cost by yard and other measurements. You'll need to Google to find out how many yards make a ton, then compare these companies' pricing to find our best buy. You'll need to convert costs when they show different cost for different amounts. Just find me the best buy basically."
I go, "Okay," assuming I can figure out how to do that. Whatever, this is basically a twenty-dollar-an-hour pain in my ass. He pats my shoulder, saying, "I'll be back in half an hour."
When he gets back I've discovered that converting a yard of top soil to a ton depends on the density of the top soil, or loam that each company is selling. The density varies from 78 to 125 pounds per cubic squad foot. Using an average of 100 pounds per cubic foot, and since there are 2000 pounds in a ton, that equals 1.35 tons per cubic yard. So, that's clear enough...
not! Anyway, 15 cubic yards weighs 20 tons. So one-tenth of that means we need 1.5 cubic yards. Now, if the companies gave a price, which they don't, for 1.5 cubic yards, I'd have something to compare. Rob looks over my shoulder and asks, "What have you got so far?" I tell him and he looks cross-eyed, asking, "Does this make any sense to you?" I go, "Yes, it means we can't compare prices from this computer listing." He goes, "Balls, it took me two hours to transfer the info from like fifteen other sources onto this computer program." I go, "The easiest way to determine the best price is send each company a letter requesting the cost of two tons of loam with a density of approximately 100 pounds per cubic foot and state you need it delivered to wherever." Rob looks at me, and says, "Good. Tell all that to Dottie and she'll get someone to put together those quote-request letters on our letterhead." He pats my shoulder, grinning, "Nice work. I was dreading the thought of doing this. Fucking math, ya know?"
He goes "C'mon, bring that sheet with all your info and I'll introduce you to Dottie." I ask, "Sorry, who is she again?" We walk out of his office, make a right turn into a fifty-foot corridor with offices on both sides.
Rob's saying, "Dottie Scouser is Dad's administrative assistant. These eight offices, four on each side of this aisle are managers and VP's offices. The closer to my Dad's office the higher their rank, and his office is straight ahead." It sounds corny to me; the closer to the owner the higher your rank. I don't think I'm cut out for this kind of shit, but then I don't need to be. Rob's eventually going to be the breadwinner and he's cut out for it
and seems to be eating it up. I wonder if he'd be eating it up if he weren't the owner's son and instead starting out as a flunky? No, he'd probably still be eating it up. Glancing into the four office on my side of the corridors I see each one has at least one window and the furniture is much nicer than Rob's. Dark wood, long desks with upholstered chairs in front. The two offices on my side closest to Mr. Dickers' office have two windows each. Whoa! Big shots! Nobody's in any of the offices though.
"Dottie, this is Dylan Newman. He's working off the petty cash account as a temp." She doesn't hold out her hand, but says, "Nice to meet you, Dylan.
And Rob, I know Mr. Newman's status." The way she said that made me think she isn't a big Rob Dickers' fan, plus I took the status comment as a double entendre, to wit: she knows I'm being paid off the books and she knows my
status is Rob's gay boyfriend. Of course I could be projecting again, but I don't think so. That's was over Rob's head, if it was in fact a double entendre. He says, "Dylan's available to do your bidding, heh heh, until coffee break." She asks in an unnecessarily sarcastic manner, "Robert Junior, why do you insist upon telling me things I already know?" I'd like to hit that beak nose of her's with the heavy-looking big paper weight on her desk.
Rob blushes, but carries on, saying, "He has a suggestion for something I'm working on that I'd appreciate you getting someone to follow-up on next week."
She's not even looking at us now as she texts something on her cellphone, then looks up, asking, "Is there anything else, Rob?" He pats my shoulder, "No, nothing else. Just take care of Dylan until," and she says along with Rob, "Coffee break." He grins and nods at me, "See you later, Dylan," and off he goes. I turn to look at Dottie as I'm planning her downfall. She holds her hand out, "What do you have there?" I hand her my notes on the cost of loam and she scans it, then put it in her 'In-box', I guess it's her in-box. Or maybe it's her trash bin. She stands up pointing to a table, saying, "I have you set-up over there." Her administrative assistant space is as wide across as the offices on either side of the corridor, plus the width of the corridor. I assume that's the size of Mr. Dickers' office too.
Looking over I see a long narrow table with a Dell computer in front of a swivel chair. Next to the computer is a thick binder. "Come with me," she says, and I follow her over, as she adds, "Sit here," pointing at the chair. No shit, I thought I'd sit on the waste basket.
She starts to explain what I'm to do... "I assume you're familiar with the concept owner's equity and present value. Also, for some of these computations, you'll need to rely on the Conjugate Pair Theorem. I'm assuming you're proficient in these random high school accounting concepts." Without waiting for confirmation to that absurd assumption, she goes on, 'What I need you to do is refer to this binder and the corresponding tables on the computer's ledger and...." I am so fucked!
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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