DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 34
by Donny Mumford
Sunday morning I'm lying in bed thinking about my hangover. I'm thinking it's worse than it should be. I didn't have that many beers, so it has to be those damn shots of VO that did me in. Funny how the shots didn't seem to have a huge effect on me last night, but this morning it's an entirely different story. There's an insistent bass drum pounding inside my head creating a headache from hell. In between the pounding I hear the shower running in the bathroom. Robby's either in there or I forgot to turn the water off last night after my shower. I'm pretty sure it's Robby. Huh, I wonder what his frame of mind will be this morning? Hopefully he's accepted the situation he finds himself in; I mean accepting it to the degree that there's nothing he can do about it now. Aborting the pregnancy, as unpleasant as that may be, was Frankie's decision, and the right one in my opinion. No small matter to be sure, but considering the circumstances no other option makes any sense. I mean, there's no love lost between them, so it's not a love child. Hell, they've barely been friends since the unfortunate coupling that resulted in the pregnancy weeks ago. We all feel terrible about it, but a faulty condom is more to blame than either Frankie or Rob. Still, it was a foolhardy endeavor between those two and, even though bad luck was involved, the choices we make have consequences.
Last night all of that was off my mind. Instead I was busy making bad choices of my own. What a weird, fucked-up night it was too. Nothing as significant as an unplanned pregnancy of course, but the Peter debacle had consequences for both of us. In different ways we both got our ass kicked, metaphorically speaking. The only tiny silver lining I can rationalize from last night is that it emphasized once again the need for me to take extreme caution when contemplating sub/dom side-sex with strangers. You'd think I'd already have learned that lesson. Yeah well, now I've learned it again. I'll be alert for the first clue that something doesn't feel right... if there ever is a next time. That first hellacious smack on the side of my head was when I needed to terminate the endeavor immediately. Duh, ya think?
It's a damn shame that, Ryan, my almost perfect sub/dom side-sex partner insisted he needed more from me than I was willing to give, and now he's out of the picture. His insistence that I do what he says even after our sub/dom sex-play was the breaking point. I wouldn't agree to that because it's a ridiculous and unworkable premise. I mean, we're not even boyfriends. We were friends. I say 'were friends' because I don't know what we are now.
Maybe he's just somebody that I used to know, like in the song by the group, Gotye. Cool song, but far from cool when in real life a good friend becomes just someone you used to know.
Two things saved last night from being even more of a disaster than it was. Chubby showing-up and canceling Peter's plans for a second fuck with me, then my bro helped me extract a much deserved revenge on that gorilla with the cute face. The second helpful thing was hooking-up with Daryl later. He and I left the party and had some sexy fun in the pickup which helped me mentally purge thoughts of that unfortunate sex with Peter. Then the hot shower I had before going to bed cleansed Peter from my body entirely.
Obviously last night was not one of my better performances, but Chubby's talk with
me after we dumped the gorilla warmed my heart and helped sooth the embarrassment I felt about the entire misadventure. It was also good to discover that Chubby doesn't think my occasionally attraction to sub/dom sex especially weird. He hinted that he and MJ have done a version of it themselves.
I had no interest in hearing details about that last night, but during future heart to heart conversations with my bro I just might delve into that topic a little further with him. Could be very interesting, and we might have more in common than I already feel we have now.
When the bathroom shower turns off, I turn over to bury my face in the pillow. It's like I'm feeling so rotten I'm not sure I can cope with Rob if he's still moping around and sighing every two minutes. The bathroom door opens and Rob comes out followed by a cloud of steam. He has a towel around his waist as he comes right over to me and rubs my head, asking, "How was the party, babe?" Hmmm, he sounds okay so I slowly turn over and say, "You didn't miss much, Rob. I've got a bitch of a hangover even though I wasn't all that drunk last night. It's gotta be the whiskey shots that are killing me this morning." He sits on the edge of the bed and gives me a little smile, "I'm sorry you're hurting. I shouldn't have asked you to do a couple go shots for me." I go, "I would have been okay if I stopped at a couple of shots, Rob. It's not your fault." He leans down and kisses my cheek, then says, "I'll take care of you today. First order of business: OJ and Advil. Wait right there." He drops the towel and pulls on a pair of blue boxer shorts and, oh my, what a hot body on that boy! That is one super-fine body. He pulls an extra-large Merrimack t-shirt over his head, saying, "I'll be right back, Dylan."
I hear the refrigerator open and close, and a minute later Rob's back with a big glass of orange juice and three Advil. When I sit up my head goes BONG! BONG! BONG! Steadying myself, I'm holding a finger up to Rob, like, 'Just a second'. When my head stops pounding, I hold out my hand and take the Advil, plop them in my mouth, then take the glass of juice and swallow all
of it very slowly. Rob says, "How about some scrambled eggs?" Finished with the orange juice, I mutter, "I can't eat anything, Robby. What I need to do right now is take a wicked piss, wash up, brush my teeth, um, like forever, and then put on comfy PJ's and lie on the sofa with you." He says, "Absolutely. That's what we'll do."
Slowly getting out of bed, trying not to set off the bass drum in my head again, I ask, "How are you doing, Rob?" He shrugs, "I'm okay. Trying to be more realistic about everything; trying to get over my whoa-is-me act. I realize some things just suck and there's nothing I can do about it. If there was something I could do to help Frankie, I would." Standing slowly, I go, "You are doing something for her, Rob. You're paying for the, um, procedure." He nods, murmuring, "Yeah, but let's not talk about any of that stuff today; okay, babe? Just you and me all day in our private apartment-world."
I go, "That's what I was hoping for." He smiles, "It'll be just you and me taking it slow and easy all day." That sounds perfect considering my lousy condition. With that confirmed I feel a little better already, so I go, "Hey, I will try your scrambled eggs after all." He grins, "Good! Ya want toast too?" I hug him and say, "Yes, buttered toast and, dude, you smell so clean and fresh." He hugs back, "I love you." Walking into the bathroom I'm thinking: that was fucking nice! He heads for the kitchen to make our breakfast and I slowly make my way into the bathroom with only one, 'BOOM!' pounding against my right temple.
After taking a long piss, I wash my face and hands. Lastly it's the annoying buzz of my electric toothbrush for as long as I can stand the noise, then I gargle with minty mouthwash. Ahhh, that's better. In the bedroom I put on pajamas, thinking, 'Okay, I just might live'. Stepping into a pair of Robby's felt-lined slippers I'm still feeling shaky, but much better than when I first woke-up. Oh, and my ass has completely healed too. That turd, Peter, doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about saying my ass would never tighten-up again. Considering what an enormous asshole he is himself, you'd think he'd know more about assholes.
After slowly making my way to the kitchen, I sit on a stool at the bar with my elbows on the counter and my chin resting on my hands. I'm watching Rob making scrambled eggs. Right off I can tell the frying pan is much too hot because the butter is turning brown already. He turned the heat on under the pan before he even began breaking eggs in a bowl to mix with a fork.
When he pours the scrambled eggs into the pan there a loud sizzle which would be good if he were browning meat or potatoes, but the sizzle sound is not what you're looking for when scrambling eggs. As an emergency measure, what he should do is immediately take the pan off the heat. He doesn't do that of course, and I'd bite my tongue off before embarrassing him by mentioning that. After all, he's trying to do something nice for me. Toast pops up in the toaster so I butter it while glancing at Rob who's now using the fork moving very little of the eggs around in the frying pan. He should use one of my heat-proof spatulas to get all the eggs moving at the same time. The scrambled eggs are very dry a pale-looking when he scraps them onto plates.
Rob goes, "They're a little overcooked. Sorry." I go, "No, they're fine, Robby. Probably a little ketchup on the side would go nicely." Like half the
fuckin' bottle.
He grins putting the ketchup bottle on the bar, saying, "The pan was too hot, huh?" I nod, "Yeah, a little." Salt and pepper, plus a liberal dose of ketchup, then Frank's Hot Sauce. Oh fuck, how about the old lady in the commercial who says, 'I put that shit on everything'... ha ha. Okay, with all the condiments I can think of added to the scrambles eggs they've reached the level of being barely eatable. I force myself to eat everything on my plate, but Rob doesn't feel obligated to do that. He scraps most of his into the thrash, mumbling, "Too dry and burnt. Dammit!" I lie, "Well I thought they were just what I needed, Rob. Get something in my stomach, ya know?" He
says, "You are so sweet to lie to me like that, baby," and he squeezes my shoulder, then says, "Okay, I'm doing the entire kitchen clean-up myself, but first I want to get you situated on the sofa. You sit right there and finish your coffee while I get some things." Nodding my head results on a pounding 'BOOM! BOOP! at my temples. Do not nod, dummy! I watch him get a pillow and a lightweight blanket from the bedroom. The pillow goes at one end of the big sofa, then he tucks the blanket in under the back edge of the three seat cushions. I couldn't do it any better myself. "Here, babe, you lie down while I clean-up the kitchen." An overwhelming feeling of love for him makes my eyes water. He's so nice, and so good looking. I smile at his unruly hair that's just like mine, and then there's his voice! I love the sound of his voice. It's crazy-awesome being in love like this.
He says, "C'mon. babe." I go over and hug him, "Lie with me, Rob. The kitchen clean-up can wait." He looks over at the kitchen and I know he can't stand leaving dirty dishes, coffee mugs, and juice glasses on the counter, plus the unwashed frying pan and splatters of egg on the stove top. Then there's the butter that's still out, along with the open jar of grape jam.
Making a face, he reluctantly mumbles, "Sure, of course, but let me turn the TV on first." He turns the TV on to the pregame show for the one o'clock Pats/Jets game at Gillette Stadium. Laying my head on the pillow and getting under the blanket, I mumble, "Oh man, I hate the Jets." Rob takes another forlorn look at the mess in the kitchen, muttering, "Me too," then he gets under the blanket with me. We move around on the sofa getting comfortable.
Just the feel of his body and his scent is comforting. I'm behind Robby today, both of us mostly on our side with my arm over him. The back of his head is partially in front of my face and I can't help kissing him on the side of his head, murmuring, "I love you so much, Robby, and you make me feel soooo good." He murmurs, "This is perfect, Dylan. I love sharing Sundays with you!"
I hug him, snuggling against him, barely paying attention to the pre-game analysis 'cause I'm in a Robby frame of mind, and I don't mean just sexually either. I'm loving him for being him. Holy shit, what would it be like waking up with a hangover this morning and Robby not being here. What if he was just a routine roommate like Tom Higgins, Daryl's roommate? I'd get no sympathy from a normal roommate. He'd more likely be breaking my balls about my hangover by laughing at my discomfort and playing a CD really loud, and other shit like that. Robby is so far superior to that it's not even comparable. I can feel his love and concern for me. It's so sincere and deeply felt, and so comforting that it even helps me further forget the horrible experience I had last night. I can feel the horrible memory fading away by the minute. There's no faking true love, ya know. Nope, you either feel it or you don't, and words of love alone won't do for true love. You need to sense that love through your lover's behavior as well as his words of love; actions speak louder than words.
I pay attention to the TV when the actual game starts because I'm a huge football fan. Even though that's true, most of the second quarter Rob's turned facing me and we're making out or talking quietly. I confess to him a watered-downed version of last night's disaster with Peter the gorilla. Rob's
sympathetic, but says, "I'd like to get my hands on that asshole! Normally we don't discuss random side-sex, although that was terrible enough that I understand why you'd want to talk it out." I go, "It's hard admitting what a dip-shit I was, but I feel a little better after telling you about it."
He's quiet for a bit, then says, "I'm kinda shocked about the whole thing to be honest with you. I feel like yelling at you for being so reckless, but I won't because you feel so bad about it already, and your present hangover condition... and all that. Actually I feel bad for you, Dylan. Hey, you know what? Let's clear any thought about that experience from both our heads and concentrate on you feeling better." I go, "I acted so stupidly I had to tell you." He goes, "Well, I did like that one part. The part when you told the cretin he doesn't know about your boyfriend." I nod, "Yeah, he doesn't know how lucky he was you weren't there." Rob says, "Huh. He's a senior at North Andover High, you say?" I go, "Yes, but like I said, Chubby and I
already extracted some revenge on his bully ass. Sent him to the hospital with a concussion." Rob mutters, "Hmmm, is that right? Doesn't sound like sufficient revenge though." Damn, now I wish I hadn't mention it because I can see the little vein on the side of Robby's forehead pulsing like it does when he's really furious. Not at me though; he's furious at Peter for smacking me around. I go, "Please, Rob, let it go. I shouldn't have told you."
He says, "Don't worry. I'm probably not going to go looking for him, although North Andover High School is only a couple miles from here."
Rob liked that I bragged about him to Peter, but I can tell he's picturing in his head Peter smacking me so hard I fell off the toilet seat. Robby's eyes get that 'look' that can be scary. He almost killed a guy who taunted and hurt me the summer after our junior year in high school. It was when we
both worked the lawn mowing crew that summer. Just because I feel like it, I hug Robby as tightly as I can. He nods his head slightly, like confirming something to himself, then says, "Ya know, not too long ago I'd have been at North Andover High tomorrow morning asking around for that asshole.
I'm not going to do that though because it'd just make matters worse, and you're okay. I have this fucking urge though, this strong urge to hit that dick over the head with something. Heh heh, from what you tell me about the guy I'd probably need a baseball bat. Not that I have any qualms about dirty fighting." I go, "Chub and I never did either. Ya fight to win if there's something worth fighting about." He shakes his head, muttering, "I hate bullies, but I guess it's best to leave well enough alone." I murmur, "Yeah, um, I kinda liked that idea of your's a minute ago. The one about us forgetting about it and never mentioning the incident again?" That's what he said, and then he spends the next couple minutes talking about what he'd like to do to Peter. Rob mumbles, "Yeah, sure, that's what we should do, but I was just thinking if accidentally we ever run into him... ya know?"
Yeah, I know. At halftime Rob can't resist it any longer, he has to get up and clean the kitchen until it sparkles. He's more of a neatness-freak than me, but I'm getting more that way all the time. It's the same idea as doing homework assignments right after we finish classes for the day. That makes good sense and puts that concern behind us instead of hanging over our heads in front of us. It's the same logic keeping the apartment picked-up and neat on a daily basis. It isn't much trouble and it's much better than living with stuff all over the place until it gets so bad we need to spend half a day getting everything put away and cleaned. I'm getting into some good habits because of Robby. Generally speaking, it's a very good feeling being on top of things. Hell, I know we're unusual in that regard; I mean as compared to the average college student. Chubby's more in-line with your normal student, and it's fine if Chub and John Beverly are basically living in a trash can, but I like Robby's and my way better.
After he cleans the kitchen Robby heats up a can of Progresso's Italian-Style Wedding soup for our lunch. That soup is a crazy mixture of tiny seasoned meatballs, carrots, small pasta, and spinach in a broth that taste good but I'm not sure what it is exactly. The description of the soup sounds terrible, but it's kinda delicious. Soup for a hangover is a very good thing.
Also a big glass of ice and Coke, Saltine crackers, plus a few more Advil.
After lunch Robby gets the tube of lubricant from the bedroom and comes back into the living room holding it up, grinning, "Just in case, ya know?" I grin back at him giving him the thumbs-up sign. Just in case, my ass! We're both on the sofa and under the blanket again to watch the second half of the game. Robby's still wearing his blue boxer shorts and the extra-large Merrimack t-shirt and I'm still wearing PJ's, but I kicked off Robby's slippers when I we first got on the sofa. The Pats manage to eke out a 27 to 24 win, but those fucking Jets almost always give the Pats a tough game, and that's true no matter what their win/loss record is, which usually sucks.
You'd never know it though when they play us. I'm feeling a lot better by now, and after the game Rob's feeling and acting very amorous. That's always a very good thing! Lying on the sofa together after a satisfying Pats victory I can't help but notice the undeniable sexual chemistry buzzing in the air between Rob and me. It gets us doing some teasing kisses, some silly flirting, and shortly our hearts begin racing and, with the euphoria of love guiding the way, we begin doing slow passionate kisses; the kind of kisses I only do with him. Kissing is one of the most intimate experiences one can have with another;
it's face-to-face, nose-to-nose, and breath-to-breath while our lips and tongues are one. The way he looks and feels, plus his smell and touch combine to create a haunting sexual feast for me. It's intoxicating while at the same time there's a soothing rhythm to our lover's make-out... always with the sweet anticipation hovering around us of what's to come. Slow kisses as our hands are exploring each other's body and there's quiet moans of arousal while our bodies squirm together until we both have a rock-hard penis between our legs. Yes, awesome feeling boners.
Robby's worked his way on top of me. I'm lying on my back, my arms around his neck as we're doing more passionate kisses, each one better than the one before. Our sexual arousal builds to the tipping point, meaning we need to take it up to the next level called... sex. Rob gasps and abruptly sits up pulling off his t-shirt. His eyes shine as he nods at me to get undressed. He steps off the sofa to drop his boxer shorts while I'm getting out of my pajamas. Our clothes and the blanket are on the floor as our boners bounce with every movement we make. When I lie back down on the sofa, Robby gets on the sofa with a knee on either side of me. His chest expands as he breathes deeply, then walks on his knees up my body until his hard cock is over my mouth. I reach up and take hold of it with my fist so only half the head is sticking out from the circle that my thumb and forefinger form around it. Pulling it down to my mouth I lick the piss slit, then my tongue moves all around the head as Robby moans, "Oooooh." and makes a, "Schhhh," sound sucking air in between his teeth. His precum coats the tip of my tongue as Robby leans forward and I let go of his boner so it can slide into my warm wet mouth on my pink tongue. It slides in until the head hits the back of my throat. My lips suck on the hard shaft as my tongue licks all over it.
Robby reaches down to stroke my boner; stroke, stroke, stroke, then he lifts up pulling his cock from my mouth and swings his left leg over me to stand next to the sofa, murmuring, "Turn over, babe."
Our eyes lock for a second, it's as if we're memorizing each other's face, then I roll over on my stomach hunching my ass up, quivering with anticipation. He gets on his knees behind me and I look back to watch him rub lots of lube on his boner. Then, with a hand on each of my butt cheeks he spreads them stretching my anus sideways. Leaning forward the hard slippery head of his cock pushes against my asshole. I relax my rectum muscles as much as I can, but there's still an initial resistance. The hard swollen head of his fat cock spreads my anus overcoming the resistance by applying more pressure until, "Aaaah, ooh," from both of us as the head of his hard boner slides past my sphincter muscle and the lips of my asshole close tightly around the neck, just below the swollen head. Robby grunts, "Ummm," breathing noisily through his nose before murmuring, "Always feels so good, babe.
Ummm, so nice, huh?" I murmur, "Un huh," as the initial pain quickly subsides.
We enjoy being joined together for a few seconds and then my rectum walls begin spreading as Rob's fat boner moves up my ass. There's always some pain, but that's nothing compared to how good it feels. It's an amazing sensation being slowly filled-up inside me by a part of my lover's body. Oh yeah,
and sexual sensations erupt as the sensitive nerve ending surrounding my asshole, plus the most amazing pleasure button of all time, my prostate gland, tantalizingly come alive at the same time. Oooh, it feels so fucking good! The four inch trip up my ass is indescribably pleasurable and makes me shudder. My neck strains as I look back at Robby who has his beautiful eyes closed lightly, his lips are slightly parted, his head lulls back and there's an expression on his face of contentment. His hands squeeze my hips a few times before tightening his grip and slowly withdrawing his cock as both of us moan, "Ooooh, mmm, oooh." Sizzling pleasure inside me when he's pulling that big cock head back, and then sensation flare-up as his cock immediately goes back up my ass. I bite my lip, going, "Aaaah, Robby, ooh, ummm yeah."
Adjusting his widely spread knees, Rob gets up a little higher on them; then, with a firm hold on my waist, his hips begin moving smoothly in a steady rhythm back and forward. In and out goes his hard boner fucking my ass with the subtle, "Slap," sound of his crotch slapping against my butt cheeks. Each 'Slap' brings with it a world of sexual pleasure for both of us.
Negative thoughts of the pregnancy and those of last night with that Peter character, as well as this morning's hangover all disappear; they're replaced by this sex act... making love with Robby. I can't imagine this ever getting old because each time it feels new; it is new each time. There are always different circumstances and states of mind when we do it, but no matter...
it always feels wonderful! Having sex with Rob is perfection. His hard sex organ simultaneously and continuously stimulating millions of nerve endings in my ass creating a state of euphoria in me. This is so different than sub/dom sex in so many superior ways that afterward I sometimes wonder why I bother with sub/dom sex at all.
Rob's quiet moaning allowing me to freely concentrate on my own pleasure without feeling selfish. It's mutual pleasure like no other for me, and it's causing ripples, one after another, of incredible pleasure that can't be described or matched by any other experience I've ever been a part of. "Umm, umm, oooh, ooh," from Robby as his fat boner slides tightly and steadily back and forth inside me. My prostate pulsates, the stretched lips of my asshole vibrate creating a loud chorus of sexual pleasure. The top of my head bumps the arm of the sofa with every thrust of Rob's hard cock up my ass.
What a delicious way to spend six to seven minutes of life, sharing ecstasy with the boy I love. My body shakes as an orgasm awakens and makes itself known. That indescribable sensation called climax is apparently building in Robby too as he's now making desperate whining sounds and his thrusting becomes faster and harder. His boner swells inside me as he's now tight against my buttocks, humping against me and breathing frantically. I've also reached the tipping point and I'm shaking from the enormous bombardment of pleasure that makes me squeal, "Eeeeeee!" as my body stiffens and I lift my hips with cum pumping out from my throbbing cock, spewing cum onto the sofa's seat-cushion. It's almost a feeling of relief for a fraction of a second there, followed immediately by spreading pure-pleasure from my ass and groin that overwhelms every other emotion... a tsunami of sexual pleasure. My blood seems too heat-up all over my body and I can only manage a gasping, "Ooooh," as more cum flies from my cock. It's only after the crescendo of climax do I realize Robby filled my bowels with his creamy cum and he did it the same time I was emptying my balls of the same magic fluid. He's breathing noisily laying against me experiencing the pleasurable after effect of the mighty bodily function named, orgasm.
It's almost a shock to think back a few seconds and realize what just happened within my body. How wonderful was that! Robby's rubbing my back, murmuring, "That was exquisite. Sex with you is perfection, Dylan. I have the urge to thank you every time we do it, but that would be a kinda creepy of me, don'cha think, babe?" I'm taking deep breaths, but manage to mumble, "No, not creepy, just unnecessary because it's mutually felt. " He pulls back a little and when his cock pulls from my ass entirely we both do a quiet, "Aaaah, mmm." Another deep breath from Rob as he gives me a hug, then we slide off the sofa so we don't spread my cum around on the seat any more than I already have. Standing up, Rob's cum seeps from my ass but that's nothing
new and I barely notice it. We hug, then look at one another with little smiles on our faces. Then one last hug as Robby asks, "Are you beginning to feel better?" I nod, "Uh huh, much better."
Letting go of each other, completely naked we walk towards the bathroom, "I'll clean the spunk off your ass, babe, and then we'll see what we can do about cleaning the sofa." I put my arm around his waist, asking, "Don't you wish it would last longer?" He mumbles, "Heh heh, one of us always says that, but yeah, of course I do. During our sex there's a point where I want to climax so badly I'm only thinking of that; that climatic moment when everything goes, 'Boom!' Oh man, and your rear-end is so spectacular!" I could fish for more compliments by asking him how much better my rear-end is than
other guys' asses, or how much better my ass is than Frankie's snatch, but it would bring up the topic of side-sex and the other thing and right now I only want us thinking about our sex.
We spend a few minutes in the bathroom cleaning up, then back in the living room we put on what we were wearing before we undressed. Rob says, "I'll clean the sofa and maybe you could get a towel to cover the wet spot when I'm done." That's what we do and, as I'm tucking the towel in between the sofa's cushions, Rob asks, "Do you think you could handle a cigarette, Dylan?" I shake my head, "No, that would put a hurting on my hangover recovery, but I'll get some fresh air with you while you have a smoke." We put on our coats and I step in Robby's slippers. On the balcony Rob lights a cigarette, and says, "The weather forecast calls for three inches of snow tomorrow.
I hope they're wrong." I mumble, "Me too," and Rob says, "Hey, you know what? We should learn to ski. Don'cha think?" I go, "Yeah, we should, and I'll teach you to golf this summer. We can go golfing on the weekends. Skiing and golfing; oh man, won't we be hot shits!" Rob grins, "Doing anything with you is awesome." I go, "You know what? I wish I'd taken the guitar lessons when I had the chance to take them in middle school. My mom was going to pay for lessons when I was in seventh-grade. One of her regular customers at the restaurant was a guitar teacher, and he had a band too. You know, the kind that played weddings and things like that. Not the kind that makes CD's." Rob exhales smoke, asking, "Well, why didn't you take the guitar lessons?" I shrug, "I don't know. Chubby wasn't up for it at the time and then the idea just faded away somehow. It'd be cool to play guitar though. You could sing and we'd form a rock band." Robby laughs, "Dream on, boyfriend. I only sing to an audience of one; the one being you!"
Inside the apartment again I'm feeling quite a bit better; much of my hangover having slipped away. It's never completely gone for at least twenty-four hours, or even longer sometimes. We lie together on the sofa half-watching the Ram play the Eagles in the four-fifteen NFL game. We're talking too, and rubbing our hands on each other. Physical contact with Robby is very pleasurable and he seems to feel the same about me. We're a mutual admiration society with lots of compliments flowing back and forth making both of us
chuckle at times when we realize we're overdoing it. Not that we care about overdoing it, but sometimes we can't help laughing at ourselves.
We talk about end-of-semester reviews that begin tomorrow, and how it makes for an easy week. That's especially true for us because we've been reviewing every day since the beginning of the semester. So yes, an easy week, but a boring one. It's also the week Frankie is having her abortion, so that's on both our minds although neither of us verbalizes it. Today is a no-pregnancy-discussion day. I can't help but think again how there's never a good time for an abortion, but considering it's the end of the semester and two weeks from Christmas break, it's especially unfortunate timing. Rob and I both feel bad for her, but simply put there isn't anything anyone can do to help except be supportive if she asks for help. Beth is Frankie's moral support... I hope.
After the second football game we decide our dinner will be roast chicken,
mashed potatoes and gravy and, believe it or not... green beans. Recently we've been trying a few vegetables and, much to our surprise, some of them are actually tasty. I always add butter plus salt and pepper, but Robby's never uses salt. I guess that's how he was raised. Chubby and I mostly raised ourselves so we recklessly love salt even though we know in excess it isn't good for us. Robby helps with the dinner, willingly taking directions from me and then when everything is either cooking on top of the stove or in the oven we take a shower together. During the shower we get into another make-out, but it's different than our lovers' make-out of a few hours ago.
This is more playful and completely sexually-orientated as opposed to being lovers' centric. Maybe because of my experience with Daryl, I grin telling Robby he's going to experience the 'bottom' role. He has no problem with that. I know I've been selfish by allowing Robby to accommodate my preference to 'bottom' when I know he'd like to do it sometimes too.
We need lubricant though, so I step out of the shower and leave wet footprints leading into and back from the bedroom where Robby returned the tube of lube after our earlier sex. Feeling excited about this I take the tube with me into the shower where Rob and I hug under the showers waterfall. It feels good warming up after that minute spent in our much cooler bedroom.
Rob's excited, "This'll be fun," he says, and before I can apply the lube he goes, "Wait, first I need to do this," and he drops to his knees and sucks my cock. He sucks cock better than Daryl, which gives me pause, but only for a few seconds. My fingers play in Rob's wet hair that's as long on top of his head as it's ever been since we've been together. My cock is quickly responding to his lips and tongue and I need to stifle a moan, thinking, 'Robby's not a little better than Daryl, he's a lot better!' I go up on my toes, my hands gripping his shoulders as tantalizing pleasure sensations come off my cock and get my shoulders doing their quick shudder. A mere minute later I'm pushing at Robby's head, muttering, "Aaaah, okay, that's good, Rob. Ummm, fucccck," as he gives my boner one last long lick. Looking up at me he's grinning and looking pleased with himself. His pink tongue, shiny with my precum, as it takes a swipe across his lips. His expression makes me laugh, but it's sexy as hell too.
He stands with his hands on the tile wall looking back at me as I cover my boner with slippery lube. Whoa, that feels good! With my cock between my fingers I guide it to his asshole and hump it right in. Rob goes, "Ooooh!"
pushing his ass back. The head of my cock sizzles with sexual sensations as I grab his hips and slowly push my boner the full six hard inches inside his rectum. He gasps without indicating he's in any pain. Wrapping my arms around his stomach, I pull him tight against my crotch and he goes, "Ummm, damn, Dylan, that feels awesome." Humping against his buttocks a few times, but not feeling the extreme tightness I feel up Pony's ass. There's a couple of possible explanation for that: one, assholes aren't all the same so some are tighter than others. And, sure, a less-tight asshole might indicate that person's been fucked a thousand times by guys with large cocks, or perhaps that person's ass isn't as resilient as mine. The fact is though; I haven't topped enough guys to be any kind of an expert on the matter. The relatively few times I've fucked guys, some of them had never been fucked before. They asked me to break their cherry for them. Ah, the memories, but then those experiences happened when I was young and now I don't recall if they were extra tight or not. Another possibility for Rob not having as tight a rectum as Daryl is that Daryl has a freakishly special rectum. For being fucked, I mean. There are guys who claim my asshole is special. And then there's the fact that I've only fucked Robby a few times and never after regularly fucking someone else. For the record: I do not think Rob's been fucked a thousand times by some guy with a huge cock. It's simply that Daryl was
born with a tighter-then-normal asshole.
After thinking all that, my boner feels very good inside Robby, and it is tight, just not like Daryl's tightness. Moving only my hips I pull my boner out until half the head is exposed and then smoothly slide it back in all the way. Robby goes, "Oooooh," and again he pushes his ass back at me, wanting more I assume. Water's pouring from the shower head, mostly on me as Rob's almost flat against the wall now and therefore under the neck of the overhanging spigot. When we began he was holding his body away from the wall at arms' length, but when I pushed my boner back up his ass the first time he slowly moved forward until his hands and forehead are touching the wall, with his elbows sticking back, his chest a mere two inches in front of the wall. My arms around his stomach are touching the wall as well.
Resting the side of my face against Rob's right shoulder, my arms around him tightly, I begin a steady fucking creating the 'Slap, slap, slap,"
sounds that are a little louder than normal because his buttocks and my shaved crotch are wet. It's two minutes of us tightly together with only my hips moving back and forth driving my extremely hard boner inside his ass, "Slap, slap, slap, slap." Robby shudders, moaning, "Oh fuck that feels good, babe." He doesn't ask for it harder like Daryl does so I maintain this steady rhythm. Whoa, every nerve ending in my dick is sparkling and singing along with the pleasure song of males fucking in a tile shower stall, "Slap, slap, slap." My shoulders do their little shudder against his back every three or four thrusts: "Slap, slap, slap," shudder.
Oh man, it's a very different world 'topping'; mostly because all my attention is focused on my cock where with 'bottoming' it's split between my rectum and cock. While fucking Daryl I feel dominant, but so far I'm not feeling much of that with Robby. This feels nothing like sub/dom sex, not that that's what Daryl and I are doing. Still, while 'topping' Pony I feel the dominance that's basically inherent in being the one doing the fucking, or as some guys have called it... doing the male part of anal sex. Robby's not a big moaner when he's the 'top', and he's not as a bottom either; not until in both cases his climax begins building towards blast-off. After four or five minutes of absorbing sensations from his rectum, Rob begins to moan, "Oooh, oooh, oh God, ummm, ooh yeah," with his climax building. My orgasm is apparently lagging behind his so I increase the speed of thrusting which leads to harder and harder thrusting until I'm wildly slamming my cock up his ass. I do it really hard a half dozen times, then stop to do a few deliberate hard humps leaving my cock inside him for a second and applying upward pressure that gets him going up on his toes. Then I'm back to humping it hard and fast up his ass, again leaning against him, pressing him against the side of the stall as I do another deliberately hard trust and hold it there and, just like that, I get the dominant feeling. It just drifted in on me when Rob got docile at the dominant hard deliberate thrusts and holds I'm doing. It's a rough way of fucking someone: you hump hard up their ass leaving your hard cock up there and sort of hump your hips up, then do it again harder, maybe with a slap on his ass, asking, "You like that, boy? Huh?" I don't say that, but it's kinda implied.
Robby seems to be very aroused by this as he's moaning openly now and lying flat against the tile side of the shower stall. He now moans, "Umpth, umpth," with each hard rough slam of my boner up his ass and when I leave it there I hump up against his buttocks with him grunting "Fuck me, fuck me."
That's so unlike Rob it's almost like I'm seeing an entirely different side of him. Maybe it's the side mystery guys who fuck him see. Danny fucked me good way back when, so I can see him doing it with Rob. I haven't noticed a
trace of dominance one way or the other in the normal daily interaction between them. Thoughts like that one totally abandoned my head when climax sensations come roaring out of nowhere and I get into a really fast doggy-fucking on Robby's ass. It feels like an incredible orgasm is ready to blow from my cock so it's super-fast and hard now, "Slapslapslapslap!" Rob flat against the tile wall with me grunting at each hard fast thrust. Grunting from the effort until Rob thrashes around against the walls making gasping breathy noises as he stiffens and pushes away from the wall enough that his cum shoots straight up between him and the wall. It hangs motionless for a split second before dropping down against his shoulder as another string of cum is shooting up. It's like fireworks that go off and sparkle brightly, then as that shot dies out another one shoots up in the air. Robby's humping back against me as, I suppose, the last of his orgasm shoots out in short spurts that don't make it up very high. He goes limp quietly moaning as I'm like, "Eeeee, aaaah," tight against him humping against his ass firing a good stream of cum up inside him. I shudder and shake holding my breath with stars bursting behind my eyes. Then another hard hump against him with me pushing him up against the wall so hard the side of his face is sliding on it. Another good shot flies from my cock as I smack the side of Robby's ass and hump against him again. Climax sensations bursts all around my groin as I do one last shudder.
Oh my God! That was hot! Now my orgasm sensations begin fading quickly. I go limp myself, taking a deep breath. My face feels red and hot because I'm embarrassed about losing it like that. That rough sex and slapping his ass wasn't what I had in mind. Robby hasn't moved, still up against the wall.
I pull my cock out slowly with no idea how long we fucked. Holding my head back so the shower flow is right on my face now as Rob turns around grinning. I back away from the flow of water feeling relief when he says, "You're a wild man, Dylan. Oh my God that was good sex!" and he gets me in his arms. I didn't know what he'd think about me getting a little rough with him.
It's like, when that orgasm announcement hit my brain I had to climax fast.
I wanted to feel it so badly it turned into rough sex for the last minute or so. I'm still trying to catch my breath 'cause it's takes a lot of energy fucking that hard. It was all so different from fucking Daryl though, and I'll try figuring-out why that is some other time.
Rob's laughing, asking, "How's your hangover now, Dylan?" More hugs as he asks, "That was great, don't ya think?" I snap out of my daze and nod my head grinning back at him now, muttering, "Yeah, I'll say. But I was a little worried I was too rough at the end." He goes, "No, it was great! You're just not used to 'topping' I guess, but you're really good at it. What a great sex partner!" Huh, Robby really liked that. From now on is it going to be awkward deciding who does what when we're aroused during foreplay? It'll kill the continuity we've had for so long. More grinning from him as he says, "Great fucking climax for me. How about you?" I shrug, "Yeah, um, awesome, Rob. Totally awesome." He goes, "Well you da man, Dylan, so I'll bathe you first," and he does. Starting with a shampoo and then everything after that. It gives me time to think about how I just may have screwed myself out of all the 'bottom' action I've loved these past few years. Literally screwed myself out of that.
While bathing Rob he slips in little compliments about my 'topping', so I finally ask, "Why didn't you suggest we switch-off years ago?" He goes, "No, no, don't get me wrong. I love being the top for you; it's my first choice. I'm just saying you're awesome in either role." Naturally this has me wondering about his choice, assuming he has a choice, during his side-sex over the years. I wish he'd offer information about that on his own, but why would he since I don't offer the same information to him? The truth is I think we both feel self-conscious about our side-sex. That we still want it, I mean. No one who knows about our relationship understands it, and for the
most part neither do we. We know it's worked for us, but we don't know why
we continue doing it. Well, we like doing it and maybe that's the only explanation necessary.
I suppose lots of guys are versatile, maybe most gay guys. Yeah, except there are some who simply can't bottom. Literally can't physically do it; the poor bastards. Wow, when I got up this morning with my hangover, feeling like death warmed over, I never thought in a million years I'd be fucking Robby in the shower eight hours later. Looking at him now I'm thinking how he
always wants to please me in our sex lives; he puts my pleasure ahead of his own. He looks up grinning, "What? You're staring at me." I go, "Oh, I was thinking how sweet you are to accommodate what I prefer during sex without considering what you want." He goes, "Our sex is perfect, but occasionally it's a treat to be fucked by someone as awesome as you." I nod, "Anytime, boss, anytime. It was really phat!" He laughs, "An adjective from the distant past."
We both get dressed in clean pajamas and finish preparing dinner together.
It's a very good dinner too, and afterward we both clean up the kitchen, then we're on the sofa snuggling together again while Sunday Night Football is providing background noise on the TV. It's not a game we care about, but it's football so, ya know. I fall asleep lying against Robby; then, a little after eleven o'clock he gently shakes me awake, "Let's get to bed, Dylan." I'm groggy, mumbling, "Yeah, good idea." Robby turns off the lights and TV. We do our bathroom stuff and then it's right to bed. Under the covers in Rob's arms, I hear him murmur, "Sundays are my favorite day of the week." I go, "Me too, Rob, and thanks for taking care of me and my hangover. You did an awesome job." He kisses my cheek and that's the last thing I remember before waking up Monday morning. Outside it's snowing, just like the weatherman predicted.
We get up and go about our business with neither of us mentioning last night, although we both feel really good about it and exchange knowing smiles a few times. It's like we've had so many wonderful days together that we're not surprised yesterday was another wonderful one, even if it was different. We stop for coffee and bagels at a coffee shop, then eat and drink our stuff in the pickup looking at our notebooks full of material for review class today. This first real snow of December is wet and heavy. The weather predictors are wrong however, because this snow won't last. The afternoon temperatures will be above freezing.
Our class isn't until one o'clock so we spend forty-five minutes in the Quad talking with some guys from the baseball team, including Golden. He's sitting next to me as we listen to a funny story about two freshman ballplayers who got so hammered Saturday night they couldn't remember where they parked their car and had to walk back to the dorm from downtown North Andover.
They're borrowing a car after last review class to drive around looking for their lost car. At one point I tap Golden's shoulder, "Are you gonna be doing haircuts before Christmas break?" He goes, "Yeah, to make-up for Saturday when I had to stop because my clippers broke, the Saturday after finals
week I'll do haircuts for guys who missed out this past weekend, plus anyone who wants a fresh haircut for the holidays" I go, "Two weeks from now, huh?" He nods and mumbles, "Jesus, how long has it been since your last haircut?" I go, "Too long obviously. Rob too. Um, do you remember that first haircut you did for me?" He nods, "Yeah, a regular tapered haircut. It's called a layered haircut actually." Huh, I didn't know that." I go, "Well, that's what I want two weeks from now, if you don't mind." He shrugs, "Yeah, sure, no problem. Don't you like this trendy one I've been giving the guys?"
I go, "So you are imitating the latest trend." He shrugs, "Heh heh, not very well I'm afraid, but yeah. It's not only trendy, it's quick and easy."
I'm like, "Don't you think it looks silly?" He goes, "Yeah, of course it does. I've had a ponytail all my life, but if I was to get it cut, it wouldn't be for the haircut I'm giving most guys." I'm like, "Why do you give it to us then?" He shrugs, "Like I said, it's quick and easy. Plus, there are guys who don't know what they want, and in some cases don't care, so if they don't say anything I do the same for everyone." I go, "Huh. When I first met you, you said you didn't particularly like giving haircuts." He nods, "That's right, I don't, but by giving these haircuts I've gotten to know most of the guys on the team... and I'm only a freshman." He smiles brightly, saying, Plus, everybody knows me now!" I say, "Yeah, you're famous, Golden."
He shrugs, "Well, not really. Remind me what you want the Saturday after next, okay? And, by the way, you've got an awesome head of hair." Actually, so does he, but a ponytail? I simply mumble, "Thanks."
Monday's review class drags on, but it's the only class we have today.
After a painful fifty minutes we're done for the day. Outside the building we talk about doing the three mile run with Daryl and decide to stop doing that until it's nicer weather again. It's the snowy season and we're not going to be one of those fanatics that run in all kinds of weather. Then Rob gets text from Beth: 'Can I see you at your apartment around three o'clock?' He texts her back that he'll be there. I say, "Do you think Frankie, um, was at the clinic this morning?" He shrugs, mumbling, "I can't imagine any other reason Beth would want to see me, except to get the money reimbursement." "How much did you take out of the bank?" He goes, "A thousand dollars.
If it's more than that I'll do another withdrawal."
Back at the apartment, while we're waiting for Beth, I text Daryl to say Rob and I probably aren't running again until nice weather returns. He texts back: 'I agree. Are you free this afternoon?' Hee hee, I wonder what he has in mind? Then the buzzer from the back door sounds. I go, "That's an annoying sound!" and Rob hits our buzzer letting Beth in. Sounding apprehensive he mumbles, "I wonder if Frankie's with Beth?" I'm like, "I doubt it." A minute later, when I open the door Beth is alone. She frowns at me, saying, "What a horrible morning I just had. Where's Rob?" I point over my shoulder with my thumb, then turn around and Rob's not there. "He must be in the bathroom. Did Frankie, um, go to the clinic this morning?" Beth says, "Yes, and your boyfriend should have been there. I had to hold her hand and deal with everything afterwards." I go, "Lose the fucking attitude, Beth! Frankie
didn't want Rob there." Robby comes out of the bedroom, "How'd it go, Beth?" She says sarcastically, "Oh, it was a great time, Rob," then, "How the fuck do you think it went?"
Okay, she's emotional and probably has a right to be, but it's not like Rob purposely got Frankie pregnant. He says, "Well I'm sorry it was horrible.
How's Frankie? Is she lying down or...?" I ask, "Did something go wrong?"
Beth says, "Don't pretend you give a shit. It's a little late for that.
I'm here to collect $725.00, and I'll take it now." Robby mumbles, "Okay, my money's in the bedroom. I'll get it." As he walks back into the bedroom, I go, "Let me see the clinic's bill." She snottily says, "You keep your nose out of this. It has nothing to do with you." I go, "Be that as it may, let me see the fucking clinic's bill." She makes a face at me as Rob comes back. He goes, "I don't have the exact amount. Here's $740.00. I don't need the change." I push the money he's holding out too Beth back at Rob. "We need to see the bill first." He's in a daze, as Beth says, "Just give me the fucking money, Rob! And you," pointing her finger at me, "Keep your mouth shut." I say, "Rob, ask for the bill."
He shrugs, "If she says it's..." I go, "NO! That sounds like too much. We need to see the bill." Beth goes, "Frankie and I went through all the agony and pain of taking care of the problem. A problem you caused, Rob, and ..." I'm hot under the collar now. "What the fuck are you talking about, bitch? Frankie's the one who talked Rob into doing it and she gave him, on purpose or accidentally, a faulty condom. Because he's a sweet person he's going to pay for the abortion, but not because it's his fault. And he's not paying anything until you show us the fucking bill from the clinic." She goes, "You're such an asshole!" and she pulls out a computer printout and holds it out. I grab it and look at it. Frowning, I say, "This says it cost $512.00," and she goes, "Yes, for the abortion, but there's pain and suffering involved, plus expenses of getting there and, um, that time I took her to lunch and had to talk her off a ledge about this whole matter." Robby looks at me, then at Beth, asking, "You want me to give you more than two hundred dollars over and above what it cost?" Beth's red in the face; caught in her swindle. I take the money from Rob's hand and count out $520.00 as Beth whines, "We had to take a taxi to the clinic." I'm like, "How much was that?"
She sarcastically asks, "You going to need a receipt for that too?" I give her $540.00, saying, "For one thing, Rob offered to drive her, but here's an extra twenty-eight dollars for the two-mile taxi ride."
Rob's in shock, asking, "Did Frankie want you to get me to pay an extra two-hundred dollars?" She says, "No, she's a sucker. It's me who thinks we, um, I mean, she deserves it." Oh man, I'm still pissed-off, talking loudly, "This entire unfortunate situation was mostly Frankie's and your fault from the start. Rob is paying for the procedure out of the goodness of..."
Beth yells, "It was an abortion. Not a procedure, shit-head!" Rob asks, "Why are you acting like such a dick, Beth? You're being totally bitchy and stupid." She says, "Well I'm pissed-off, okay? And did you tell Golden about any of this?" Rob goes, "Golden? No, why would I tell him?" She puts the money in her pocket and grabs the clinic's receipt out of my hand, saying, "Well it's a pretty big coincidence then that he broke up with me last night.
The night before Frankie's abortion." I go, "You're mental! What does one thing have to do with the other?" She says, "You wouldn't understand. I'm leaving!" Rob goes, "Whoa. You haven't said how Frankie is. How's she doing?"
Beth shrugs, "Considering everything she's doing pretty well, but why don't you ask her yourself?" He mutters, "I will." Beth's stalks to the door saying over her shoulder, "She deserves that extra money." Rob goes, "I'll ask her about that." With the door open, Beth says, "Oh, she'll say she doesn't, but she does anyway." I go, "Goodbye, Beth. Be careful on the steps.
They're slippery and we wouldn't want you falling down the steps and breaking your neck." She gives me the finger and I mutter, "How lady-like," as the door slams behind her and Rob's $540.00.
Rob sits on the sofa, saying, "I cannot believe that just happened." He texts Frankie asking how she's doing. She texts back, 'Better than I expected. I've got the literature the clinic gives their patients and so far I'm not experiencing any of the possible bad side effects. And thank you very much for paying for everything. That was sweet of you.' I'm reading his cellphone over his shoulder. I go, "Doesn't sound to be like Frankie knows anything about the extra money rip-off that Beth tried to pull." Rob shakes his head, mystified, "I can't believe she did that." I go, "Frankly, neither can I, but she's been a total bitch about this from the very beginning."
The rest of the day is sort of a downer. We don't go out and we spend too much time talking about the girls and the way it ended so poorly. We talk it out of our systems, concluding: Frankie, probably unintentionally, was primarily to blame for getting pregnant, but she's handled the situation admirably while Beth did her best to make as much trouble as she could. In bed that night, Rob says, "I'm apparently not cut-out for any kind of serious female companionship. The thing is, I liked Frankie as a friend, but now we can't even be friends." I snuggle up to him, saying, "You still have me as a friend, Rob." He chuckles and puts an arm over me, "Yeah, some consolation prize you are." I says in the dark, "I probably won't get pregnant." He goes, "Yeah, well there's that..." and one thing leads to another from there. And we aren't confused about what our roles are either. I guess me topping will be the exception to the rule... at my desecration. Robby so good about things like that.
Tuesday goes by kinda slowly. The review classes are boring the shit out of all of us. Tuesday afternoon, while Rob's at the baseball complex, I give Daryl a hard spanking while watching his five-inch cock get hard even as he's yelling, "OW! OW! OW!" Then I fucked him kinda dominantly while he was still sniffling from the spanking, and we both had great climaxes. His cock
gets so hard just before climaxing I can hardly believe my eyes. It's something to see alright. Comparing his ass with Robby's, Daryl's is definitely tighter, plus he has that involuntary muscle contraction thingie going for him. Jesus, that feels awesome on my cock and I really like that distinct dominant sense I get during the spanking and the sex. The spanking, by the way, is at Daryl's insistence, not mine! After considering all the attributes Daryl's ass has for fucking, I still prefer Robby's.
We're still gloomy about the abortion, especially Rob who was against it from the beginning, but gave into Frankie's decision because it's her body.
Then Wednesday and Thursday go by as boringly as Monday and Tuesday, and finally it's Friday, after our last early morning review class. Review week is past history now, and thank God for that. A group of us are going to the movies tonight. Neither Rob nor I have had a single beer all week, so after the movie we're looking forward to going to that bar, Butch's Sports Bar and Eats, with the pool tables for a few beers and to shoot some pool, which neither of us is especially good at. Hey, maybe Markie will be there tonight. The stress of the pregnancy and abortion are still on our minds, and we both worry about and feel the worst for Frankie and the entire horrible affair. Better days ahead, hopefully for everyone...
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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