DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 47
by Donny Mumford
We walk into the library where there's a fire blazing away in the fireplace. It's a real fire made from kindling and logs; not a gas fireplace. Willie looks surprised, saying, "Damn, that was nice of Paul to get a fire going for us. I didn't expect that." As soon as we sit in matching leather armchairs Martha comes in carrying a tray with two Manhattan cocktails that her husband, Paul, mixed for us. Willie goes, "Oh my, thank you, Martha, and thank Paul for the fire too; it's a nice surprise." She smiles, "You've had a tough week, William. We're both happy you're staying in tonight with your good friend, Dylan, and we wanted to make it nice for you boys." Willie's face tightens-up and I expect some more tears but none materialize. He mumbles, "That's very thoughtful of you."
When she leaves, I'm like, "Jeez, she's nice," and Willie says, "Yes, they both are. Um, let's put some music on, Dylan," and he gets up to look through a stack of CDs. He chooses his latest favorite which is a very old one.
It's by the band, "Hootie and the Blowfish', titled, 'Cracked Rear View'.
I know at least one cut from that CD because it's played as an 'oldie' on the radio. Willie says, "Did you know this was the best-selling album in 1995?" I shrug, "Not really," and Willie goes, "Well, heh heh, I didn't know back then either since I was only a couple of months old at the time."
Willie puts the CD in a player, saying, "There were four hit singles from this one album." I nod, "Really? What are they?" and he ticks them off on his finger, "The first one was, 'I only Wanna Be With You', then, `Time', 'Let Her Cry' and 'Hold My Hand'." I shrug, "I think the only one I've heard a few times is, 'I Only Wanna Be With You'." Willie goes, "Yeah, and I wish you only wanted to be with me... heh heh." I do a long exasperated exhale, and he says, "Anyway that was the biggest hit the band ever had and I read somewhere that they needed to reach an out-of-court-settlement with Bob Dylan for unauthorized use of his lyrics in that song. You know, to avoid being sued." I mutter, "I guess Dylan needed the money."
I'm not all that interested in that band although Willie obviously is, so I ask, "How'd you get hooked on this CD?" He goes, "My roommate. He played it all the time and sang along with Hootie." Nodding my head like that explains it, I drink some of my Manhattan. Yep, just as strong as the ones Rob and I had in the restaurant last week but somehow this is smoother going down. Probably an eighty-dollar bottle of bourbon at the Worthington household compared to a thirty-dollar bottle at the restaurant. There is a difference.
As the music comes on I spot an old-time photograph album on an end table and pick it up. Opening it, I go, "Pictures of you, Willie. Old time photographs." He goes, "Oh fuck! Yeah that was before cellphone cameras. Back then people had to buy cameras and then they took rolls of film to be developed, um, some place." I go, "Yeah I know. I actually like looking at these photos better than on a cellphone." He comes over with his drink and sits on the arm of my chair pointing out things in the photos. "That's my Uncle Thomas holding my cousin, Tommy. What a jerk-off he turned-out to be; Tommy I mean, not my uncle." I turn the page and he goes, "That's me at the Jardin du Luxembourg in Paris when I was ten-years-old... and here I am at the Eiffel Tower, obviously." I'm like, "Holy shit you were really fuckin' cute, Willie!" He shrugs, saying, "These photos are from my first Paris trip. It was with my Grandparents, not my parents. This whole page is me at different tourist sites in Paris."
Looking at more photos of Willie I mumble, "There were cellphones when you were ten." He goes, "There were, yes, but the cameras in cellphones weren't worth a shit in those days. Grandfather had some kind of elaborate Canon camera." We look at more pictures with Willie and his grandparents as he tells me where they were taken and then he abruptly takes the album from me and closes it, saying, "We've seen enough pictures of me." I guess that Paris trip was reminding him of his Grandfather.
He sits back down opposite me in a leather chair and asks how things are for me at Merrimack. We exchange college lies for a while. Well, not lies exactly, more like exaggerations. I can be kinda funny some times and manage to get a couple of chuckles out of Willie; the first ones today. The bourbon is probably helping to mellow him out a little too. In the background Hoodie's singing, 'Time, why you punish me? Like a friend whose gone, you left me crying.' Willie sings along but he doesn't have as good a voice as Rob and Willie's eyes get wet as he sings the words. He sounds okay when singing with this Hootie guy though. When that song is over Willie tells me, "Hootie's real name is Darius Rucker and he formed the band in college. I forgot which college. Wait... it was in North Carolina I think." I'm like, "Uh huh," and he adds, "The band won a Grammy for this album." I ask, "So what happened to it? The band I mean." Willie says, "Darius wanted to become a country music artist so he broke-up the band. He was the first black country artist to have a number-one single on the Hot Country Chart."
When something interests Willie, he dives in head-first and submerges himself in the topic. Keeping that in mind I'm not asking anymore questions about this group or I'll hear way more than I need to about 'Hootie and the Blowfish'. I'm curious about the band's name of course, but I'll remain curious about it.
Finished our drinks, Willie says, "I always feel funny ringing the bell and having Martha come to take our order for another drink, so I'll go to the kitchen and get Paul to mix us a second round myself." That's considerate of him, but I've notice when he's in hotels and restaurants he has no problem being served and waited on hand and foot, and he'll complain if, in his opinion, the service isn't up to par. It's awkward some times for me when, for example, he'll complains that the steak isn't medium rare like he ordered and have them take it back, or his coffee isn't hot enough. Shit like that.
He returns with our second drinks, saying, "I asked for French onion soup so Chef says now it'll be another forty-minutes before dinner. He makes the
soup from scratch." I'm like, "Oh, um, was he pissed-off that you asked for it at the last minute like this?" He shrugs, "I don't think so. He didn't seem to be pissed-off although outside the kitchen I did hear something clatter against the wall so maybe he threw a pot or something." Yeah, maybe he did and I wouldn't blame him.
Willie lights a cigarette and passes it to me and then lights one for himself, saying, "See those vents high on the wall?" I look where he's pointing as he goes, "They're strong exhaust fans drawing the air form this room to the outside. Quiet, aren't they?" I nod, and he says, "Father smokes cigars in here and you hardly notice the smell." I nod, muttering, "Sweet!" then I mostly listen as Willie tells me about a trip he took during last year's spring break. It was to a private island called Kamalame Cay in the Bahamas. He says, "All the meals there are prepared to order; breakfast, lunch and dinner. It's like you're own private chef. Oh my God, and the staff accommodates your every wish. The scuba diving was spectacular too and," blah, blah, blah. I'm not especially interested in the details. Mostly I'm trying not to cry at how badly I feel for Willie because he went there alone. It seems so sad when he adds, "Of course it would have been much better to go with someone, especially you, but I didn't know who to ask." Jesus! Dinner is finally served and thankfully when Willie ask if I'd like wine and I say, "Um, not really," he turns down Paul's offer even through Paul tries to talk him into wine with dinner. Maybe they're hoping Willie will get drunk to help him get to sleep tonight. It's so odd having three adults, the Windells and Chef Diez, waiting on the two of us. It'd be the three of them waiting on Willie if I weren't here. It's awkward for me and I probably say, 'thank you' too often. Willie is relaxed after two strong drinks plus he's of course used to being waited-on. I will say though he is very polite to the, um, servants, and he also says 'thank you' but he says it in more of an off-hand way than when I say it.
The dinner begins with the aforementioned French onion soup which is delicious. Next there's a salad of bib lettuces, different colors of baby tomatoes and slices of English cucumbers in a sweetish dressing of some kind, plus warm rolls and balls of hard unsalted butter. Finished that course I'm thinking I probably shouldn't have eaten three rolls with the salad because I'm beginning to feel full and I'm now watching the two racks of lamb being served. The Chef slices them for us into four lamb ribs each and then serves a sauce on the side. According to the Chef it's a Cabernet Sauvignon wine reduction and Dijon mustard sauce that taste ten times better than it sounds. There's creamed spinach and whipped potatoes that we'll serve ourselves from the bowls of each, and then it's, "Bon appetit," from Chef Diez.
Willie and I both say our thanks and Chef does a little head bow before stalking off. Chef Diez is a contradiction between what he says and his body language. I listen for something being thrown in the kitchen again but hear nothing.
Willie can have all the creamed spinach he wants but the creamy whipped potatoes are far and away the best I've ever had in my life and I take my share of that. It's almost like a creamy potato soup but thicker so I can eat it with a fork. Willie says there's bone marrow and garlic and other ingredients mixed in with the potatoes, none of which I can detect. They simply taste like delicious whipped potatoes and if I had brass balls, which I don't, I would have asked Martha if there were any leftover whipped potatoes in the kitchen. Dessert is white chocolate cheesecake with a dark chocolate brandy sauce. Oh my God, it's so rich! Everything is very good and I forget about feeling full after the soup, salad, and dinner rolls. Willie and I both manage to eat everything and in the end, were scrapping the desert plates getting every drip of the sauce.
Sitting back from the table, everything eaten between us, I ask Willie, "Do you eat like this every night you're home?" He goes, "Nooo! Not unless Mother and Father are here. Usually if I'm alone I ask for a cheeseburger and fries or maybe fried chicken. They're my favorites." I go, "I'll bet the chef fixes dinners like this for himself and the Windells on a regular basis." Willie shrugs, "Maybe, I don't know. I hope he does." Then Willie impresses me when he's very gracious thanking Martha, Paul, and the Chef. We go back to his room feeling over-stuffed, but man that was good! In his bedroom's sitting area, Willie says, "How about if we watch a movie
and let the food digest. He dials up Comcast's On Demand and surfs the movies on HBO deciding on an action flick that was in the theaters like three months ago although neither of us saw it. We're both sitting on chrome and black leather high-tech chairs with attached foot rests that are incredibly comfortable. Twenty minutes into the movie Willie's sound sleep in his chair. I let him sleep as I watch the rest of the movie. Willie didn't move an inch or make a sound from the second he went to sleep.
Leaving him sleeping I use the bathroom to take a piss and then wash my hands and face. We're clean from the shower and Jacuzzi so no need for another shower. Willie has an electric toothbrush that I use, but only after washing the bristles under very hot water. I did the same thing before letting Rob borrow my toothbrush. I don't think Willie has any more germs than I do but it's just something you do before using someone else's toothbrush. Of course, most people would rather stick their head in a toilet rather than use another person's toothbrush, but we're not like that. We have our tongues in each other's mouths or around each other's penis and sometimes in each other's ass so using a washed-toothbrush is small potatoes compared to that. When I've brushed my teeth, I rinse out the toothbrush really well and put it back where I found it.
Looking at the flimsy top and pants I'm wearing I decide pajamas wouldn't be any more comfortable so I'll sleep in what I've got on. First though I wake Willie, nudging his shoulder, "Willie, time for bed." He opens his eyes and smiles, "Hi Dylan. Is the movie over?" I nod, "Uh huh, c'mon and I'll help you into the bathroom." He stands mumbling, "Don't need any help, but thanks for offering." He makes a face muttering, "My mouth taste like shit," and then walks into the bathroom while I get in his awesome bed. It's huge and this mattress is the most comfortable mattress ever. Willie told me it's a mattress made in Britain and over here they sell for like fifteen-thousand dollars. I can't claim it's worth that much but it is by far the most comfortable mattress I've ever slept on. My twin-bed mattress was bought at Bob's Discount Furniture for $199 but it compares favorably to brand-name mattresses selling for twice that. Although Willie's mattress is awesome I don't believe it's 7500 times as good as mine, money-wise. Heh heh, we're smart shoppers, Mom and me.
Willie comes out of the bathroom, saying, "You're not sleeping in your clothes, are you?" I'm like, "These clothes are exactly like pajamas, Willie."
He goes, "Yeah, but let's sleep in the nude." Shrugging I pull off the top and bottoms without getting out of bed and toss them on the floor where he tossed his. He gets in bed with his long dick swinging free. He makes me grin as he gets under the cover looking so happy. He snuggles next to me, murmuring, "Sleeping with you is such a treat for me, baby." And believe it or not we go to sleep.
Every other time I've ever been naked in bed with Willie we've had sex, but not tonight. It's been a sad week for him since his Grandfather's passing, so this isn't like any other time. When I'm sure he's sleeping soundly I wiggle out of his arms and get out of bed to turn-off all the lights he left on from the bathroom to the sitting area to the bedroom. I turn everything off and now it's pitch black in here, hmmm? What if I need to take a piss later tonight? So I feel my way into the sitting area again, my arms out in front of me, until I bump into one of the chairs. Next to it is a small end table with a lamp that I turn on and it gives off just enough light that I can make my way back to bed without bumping into anything. Climbing in under the cover I lie on my stomach with an arm over Willie's back as a comforting gesture in case he can sense it in his sleep, and I go to sleep too.
Sunday morning, I wake-up at nine-thirty and see Willie's still sleeping so I shut my eyes and try to remember if there's anything I need to do today. Mom and Chubby know I'm here with Willie and not available to help Chubby with Sunday brunch. It's rare we don't do that together, but I've been on my own for brunch at times too; we both have. It's no crisis in either case. So what else? I don't think there's anything I need to do today. Rob's in Westborough working and he'll be there overnight so I go back to sleep.
Sweet! Willie wakes me saying, "It's ten-thirty, Dylan. Ya wanna sleep some more or get up?" He sounds very close and I open my eyes to see his big eyes six inches above mine. His eyes are very bright and he looks well rested.
There's a smile on his face as he asks, "Can I give you a kiss? Would you mind?" I shake my head a little and he kisses my lips. He's a very good kisser and when I kiss back it turns into a fifteen second kiss that gets my dick's attention. Moving my head slightly I finish the kiss before it gets too serious. Willie murmurs, "That was a really nice kiss," and he lies down beside me saying coyly, "A kiss like that can sometimes be a prelude to intimate relations between the kissers." I grin, mumbling, "If you attack me I'll scream for Martha or, better yet, I'll scream for the chef and he might have one of his pots to throw at you." Willie grins, "Yeah, he could still be upset about the late French onion soup request, but he's off on Sundays." I go, "Oh, then I guess I better give in to your inclinations." He goes, "That'd be best I think."
He kisses my lips quickly and then asks, "Do you still like sucking good-looking guy's dicks?" I nod, "Oh yes, it's a favorite thing of mine to do."
He nods, muttering, "That's good to hear. Um, how about rimming the ass of a very good-looking young man who diligently washed his ass ten minutes ago and who you've adored for years?" I go, "Probably not. Not unless I get overly aroused from sucking said individual's penis." He nods again, "Oh good. You usually get very aroused doing that." He nods his head in the general area of his cock and I go under the cover head-first. I'm feeling around on his body in the dark. The palms of my hands gently rub over his belly and down in between his legs through his pubic hair and then my right hand goes around his long penis to stroke it. Willie throws the covers off us, saying, "I like looking at you."
Stroking his flaccid penis until it's slightly firm I lick all around the head before sliding just the head and foreskin into my mouth for some slow warm wet licks and then suck on it inhaling Willie's unique personal scent.
He smells nice but his scent isn't as noticeable as Rob's. Willie and I have had sex a hundred times but only a few times this year and not for like five or six months so his scent isn't as prevalent as it was when we were having sex on a regular basis. Faded scent or not, it reminds me of my youth. Stroking the shaft while sucking on the head gets his cock fairly hard and I take a couple of inches of shaft in my mouth and then rub the head against the inside of my cheek and along the ripples at the roof of my mouth and then on the other side of my cheek. Willie goes, "Ummm, oooh," and squirms around on the mattress, his fingers ruffling through my hair.
When I feel, his cock is hard enough I take it out of my mouth and push it against his belly. The bottom couple of inches are surrounded by his curly dark pubic hairs while the head reaches slightly above his 'innie' belly button. I do a number of long licks from the bottom of his nuts up the shaft and finally suck the head inside my mouth again and lick it like a lollypop. Willie moves on the bed moaning, "Ooooh! Ummm, oooh," while pulling my hair a little and moving his legs. Precum coats my tongue as his cock grows
into a very hard boner. Taking it out of my mouth again I do more long licks up the underside of his hard-long cock, and then lick up both sides.
Pulling it away from his stomach I cover the top of his boner with saliva making wet mouth sounds and then slurp on four-inches of it inside my mouth again getting a drool of precum that slides down my throat. The entire length of his hard boner is covered with wet warm saliva by now. It's slippery with my saliva and my chin is wet with it too. My cock throbs in its tightness as again I pull his boner from my mouth and push it against his belly while I lick and suck on his balls covering his scrotum with spit, then I lap under his nuts close to his asshole. Willie shakes and shudders, moaning, "Oooooh, oooh, mmmm." He slides his ass up just enough so I can do a very wet warm long lick across his anus, then again and again. Willie rolls away going up on his side with his back to me as his body shudders with him moaning, "I'm gonna cum."
Precum rolls down my own hard boner as I push Willie the rest of the way over onto his stomach and get between his legs on my knees. Spreading my knees as far apart as I can I put the head of my boner at his asshole and lean forward. He goes, "Aaaah, oooh!" as the fat head of my cock forces its way past his sphincter. His head moves from side to side near the foot of the bed as he says, "Ummm, Dylan, mmmm, oooh, fuck..." Going up on my knees a little I do a good hip thrust and watch three-inches of my boner disappear up his ass. Fascinating! He squirms and moans some more as I push on his back with both hands and lean forward forcing my boner the rest of the way up his ass. His feet go up in the air as I hump against his firm buttocks.
It's like humping against two five-pound bags of sugar. That's how firm his ass cheeks are.
Willie's rectum is not as tight as Pony's, which is very tight. The tightness of Rob's rectum is somewhere in between the tightness of Willie's and Pony's. All three have very fine rectums though. The degree of tightness of a guy's rectum could be Nature's doing, or a lesser tightness could be caused by someone who routinely has a big cock up his ass. Ya can't be sure with assholes. For example, everyone says my rectum is very tight. Hell, John Smith even doubted I was doing 'it' enough with my boyfriend because my anus is so tight. So, my ass is tight even though I can't imagine there are all that many guys who take it up the ass more often than myself, plus Rob has a very fat cock.
Not hearing any complaints of pain from Willie I do some hard fast thrusting making familiar, "Slapslapslapslap," sounds. I'm into it right off the bat. It feels incredibly good on my boner and now that Willie's resigned to it he's making moaning sounds of sexual pleasure accepting the unexpected.
I'm pretty sure my cock can't get any harder or larger than it is as the foreskin is stretched and clinging around the neck just below the glans, which is another word for the extremely sensitive bulbous structure at the very end of my penis also known as the head. My coral ridge isn't as prominent as Rob's but I have no trouble stopping my withdrawals at Willie's sphincter muscle and then pounding my boner back up his ass, "Slap!".
I'm thrusting my hard organ straight up Willie's ass about as hard as I can do it generating sizzling sensations all around my groin as my entire cock vibrates with pleasure, especially the head, making me shudder and grit my teeth. Willie's shuddering too and humping back into my thrusting as sweat breaks out on my forehead. I'm grunting at the effort of maintaining this
hard-fast fucking. It's like I'm a runaway train that I can't stop because it feels too fuckin' good. It's much different than being the 'bottom' but there's a lot to be said for 'topping' too.
Anal sex rocks any way you do it. I can just imagine what's going on inside Willie's rectum and now he's lifting his hip further up off the mattress, probably giving his boner some room. What a thrilling feeling to have my six-inches of hard cock sliding fairly tightly up inside Willie's body, then back, then up inside him again over and over and over for three, four, then five delicious minutes until I'm in a frenzy to cum. Friction on my boner is building toward a climax that's getting hotter and hotter and has all of my attention now as way in the background of my consciousness are sounds of pleasure coming from Willie, "Ooh, oooh, oooh, oooh, Dylan!" and then his body stiffens as he goes, "Oooooh!" his hips hump as he ejaculates. I hear his string of cum splatter faintly on the sheet. That puts me over the top too. I'm tight against his firm buttocks pumping a good load of cum up his ass. One long stream that blinds me temporarily with a lightning storm of orgasmic pleasure-sensations that takes my breath away. Then there are three follow-up streaks of cum flying out from my throbbing boner as my shoulders do their involuntary shuddering and a few firecrackers go off in my nuts. I've got my arms under and around Willie's waist hugging him against me as I go back to doing full six-inch thrusts moving only my hips. My cock sliding easily in Willie's cum-filled ass. I feel every inch of my hard cock sliding into his body and then sliding back out ten, then eleven times.
Ooooh yeah! Satisfied finally, I stop and breathe deeply while blinking at the fleeting sensations of climax until I sigh as the fast-moving show called climax has ended. Yep folks, climax has left the building. Willie collapses on the mattress trapping my arms under him in some of his cum. I'm lying on his back with my forehead against the back of his head on the very short bristly hairs there. We're both breathing deeply for twenty-seconds and then he turns his head to the side, exclaiming, "Oh my God, that was so good, Dylan.
Really, really good!" I nod my head rubbing against the back of his head and then roll off him pulling my cock out of his ass. It makes a wet sucking sound as the head breaks free. Lying on my back next to Willie, I'm stroking my cock a few times, mumbling, "Yeah, Willie, that was really good. Seemed fast though." He goes, "No, not real fast although I wish we could do it all over again exactly like that right now," and he chuckles adding, "That made me feel good, Dylan." Well that's a nice endorsement! I don't even need to hint for compliments.
We lie in bed sticky with cum here and there while talking about sex.
Willie says his last ex-sex-partner was exclusively a 'top' and in the beginning of their relationship they'd do it three times a day. Near the end though it had petered-out to once or twice a week. Willie says, "We couldn't fuck enough the first month and then maybe two times a day and it kept getting less and less until it seemed like we were obligated to do it. It became so routine after a few months it became like something hanging over our head all day, like an assignment you knew had to get done but you kept putting it off until we just said, 'What are we doing here?' and agreed it wasn't gonna happen between us. How does that work, Dylan? From fireworks to blah in three months or so." I go, "I don't know. Did you think you were in love?" He goes, "Not really and any little thoughts along those lines fizzled-out pretty early on."
Then, for a while it's mostly a one-way dialogue from Willie until he asks, "Are you guys, you and him, still doing the open relationship deal?" I go, "Ha! I'm with you right now, aren't I?" He goes, "Yeah, but I'm special to you. I mean with random guys." I shrug and turn my head to look at him, "Honestly speaking, random sex isn't happening anywhere nearly as often as it did when I was young. Not even close! One summer at Wildwood I think I had six different sex-buddies in a week. It's all about youth, ya know. Now I'm a young man according to some but I contend, and maybe it's just me, that I'm still more boy than man." He nods, "Yeah, you are, but so are most twenty-one-year-old guys. Some pompous asses pretend they're thirty or something but they're basically just assholes acting like they think they're supposed to. Act natural is what I say; be yourself." I go, "Maybe they'd disagree and say they're merely acting mature; acting their age." He mutters, "Assholes! But sure, we can't do some of the silly shit we did at say seventeen, but we're still young enough to get crazy once in a while and college gives us the freedom to be nuts when we want." I go, "And at the same time it gives us the chance to be responsible too. I mean it's up to us to memorize the stupid shit we need in order to get passing grades and turn in papers on time. College students are responsible for everything really. No one is prodding us to do this or that. We need to prod ourselves."
We lie quietly for a bit and then Willie starts trying to explain how he got himself in that situation a couple of summers ago when a super-dominant sadist had him or a leash, but I interrupt him, "If you don't mind, Willie, I don't want to hear that shit. Your way past that and you have been over it for two years." He nods his head, "It's embarrassing though and I wanted to explain myself to you." I mutter, "You don't need to. You and I dealt with it and it's been over and forgotten by me." I steer the conversation back to us giving ourselves credit for being responsible guys while rationalizing away inconsistencies in our philosophy of life as twenty-one year guys. Willie finally says, "Jesus, I didn't realize we were so awesome!" I go, "Yeah, we don't give ourselves enough credit. We too often dwell on the occasional dumb-ass things we do and ignore all the good things we do."
Willie goes, "What was the last dumb-ass thing you did?" Hmmm, there's that gorilla at a frat party last month, or that guy last summer who I got high with on cocaine-laced pot and made a total fool of myself. They're the two outstanding ones that come to mind unless I count Chubby and I fire-bombing a pervert guy's van. I go, "Nothing comes to mind right off the top of my head, Willie."
Then to get off that topic, I go, "Are we gonna have breakfast?" He says, "Chef is off on Sundays but I can get Martha to fix us something. Oh, wait... what times is it?" I check my watch, "Um, almost twelve o'clock, why?"
He goes, "They've already left. They have Sunday afternoons off to visit Paul's father in a nursing home." I shrug, "We'll eat out then. My treat!"
Willie says, "First though we need a shower, and it's not your treat. You're my awesome date and I treat for everything. I need to buy you a Christmas present too." I go, "Ah, Willie, you don't need to buy me anything." He says, "Yes I do. We both need to because we're extra special first boyfriends.
Can you remember that far back?" I'm real pleased at how much better he seems today as compared to yesterday, so I go, "Of course I can remember back then! So okay then, we'll get each other Christmas presents." He mumbles, "Yep, and now you need get the grease gun and Boy Butter for the shower." I'm like, "Are you serious? We just fucked an hour ago." He says, "It was an hour-and-a-half and I have quick turn-around capabilities." Well alright then! We get out of bed and Willie says, "Help me strip the bed, Dylan. Martha doesn't need to deal with cum stained sheets." We do that still naked from last night. Willie's like me in that we both enjoy being naked. I tell him about my fantasy for a nudist colony or beach for guys twenty-three and under. Oh my God, he's all over that idea! Then, grinning, he asks, "But wouldn't you be self-conscious about your small penis?" I laugh and go, "Hey! I'm proud of my six-inch penis. Don't make fun." He smacks my bare ass, saying, "Get the lube and the tube." Oh goodie, he's regaining some of his natural bossiness for sex.
After retrieving the grease gun and Boy Butter bottle I meet Willie in the bathroom. We both take a long piss and then wash our hands. Lastly we share his toothbrush again. After gargling with minty mouthwash Willie gives my ass a couple of smacks, saying, "Turn on the shower. Um, where'd you put the grease gun?" I point to the shelf holding the bath gel and soaps and shampoos; the grease gun and lubricant are behind everything. He gets the 'gun' and says, "Bend over and I'll lube you up again." Bending over with my hands on my knees I watch him fill the grease gun with Boy Butter as I'm telling him, "That's the best lubricant I've ever felt in my ass." Willie grins, asking, 'Where else would you feel it except your ass?" I mutter, "You know what I meant." He grins and plugs the end of the so-called gun in past my sphincter muscles and plunges a lot of Boy Butter inside me. It feels cold at first. Rotating the gun spreads the lube around and helps when he slides the fat tube part of the gun in tightly and then he does more plunging.
More than he did yesterday as he works the gun five inches up my ass. It feels as slippery inside as I've ever felt in my life. I stroke my dick a few times and get two whacks, "SMACK! SMACK!" on my right butt cheek. "No touching, Dylan! That's my job."
He pushes and pulls the tube back and forth in my ass giving me half a hard-on before pulling it out entirely. I'm very much in the mood to feel Willie's long cock up my ass again, asking, "Are we doing it out here, Willie?"
He pats my back, "No, in the shower but I've got you all lubed up so the water won't be a problem now." Somehow he's recognized vibes from me that anything resembling serious making-out isn't appropriate considering my more evolved relationship with Rob, and also because Willie and I haven't seen each other for months. He was a great make-out in days gone by though, but we've settled for the couple of gay-buddy-kisses earlier. Mostly I'm very happy he's acting more like his whacky-self this morning. "Get the water going from all three-shower heads, Dylan, and I'll get us some towels for after we shower." As I'm turning on the faucets I see him picking up two big fluffy hotel-quality towels and putting them within reach of the shower stall.
"Go ahead and step in, baby," so I do that and almost drown with all the water pouring down on me. Willie adjust the direction of the shower heads and says, "You wash me first and then I'll do you. Nice and slow, starting with a shampoo." I'm like, "I know how to wash a guy in the shower, Willie! This isn't my first fucking rodeo ya know." He pinches my cheek smirking and saying, "Don't be so sensitive." I stop and look at him, then say, "Have I mentioned how good looking you are at this advanced age we find ourselves at now." He smiles, "Oh man, do I ever love being with you." Rubbing my fingers across his jaw, I murmur, "I felt your beard on my face when we kissed this morning." He says, "Yeah, and it looks cool when I don't shave for a couple of days." I mutter, "I'll bet." He's always been a very sexy boy if you ask me.
We're both completely drenched in two seconds. Willie's hair is flat on his head with his bangs are longer than mine before Rob gave me the haircut.
He hugs me, "You're always saying nice things to me, Dylan!" I go, "Well it's true, you're very good-looking." He smiles, saying, "And of course you can say that freely beings you're the best-looking guy anybody I know has ever seen." I smirk, "That goes without saying." He laughs and then asks, "Should I shave?" I go, "Not on my account, no." He shrugs, "Well then, start shampooing my hair." I ask, "Do you want that long hair in your eyes?" He says, "No, not really. Ralph said it's the latest style, so..." I say, "Ralph's a jerk-off. Get me a comb and scissors and I'll improve his latest style." Willie points behind me and there on a shelf above the one with various bath gels and shampoos. On that shelf there are two razors, shaving cream, combs, nail clippers, tweezers, scissors, and other assorted things in a ceramic bowl. Willie says, "Like a Boy Scout, I'm prepared. It's my motto."
Lifting the comb and scissors carefully out of the bowls not so I don't knock other items out, I ask, "Were you ever a Boy Scout?" He goes, "Fuck no, the Scout Master might be queer." I mutter, "Crude and harsh commentary, Willie." He asks, "What are you going to do with the scissors?" I say, "Cut half the hair off the top of your head." He goes, "Okay." He turns off one of the shower heads so we can stand at the end of the shower stall without being under a waterfall. I run the comb down through his bangs and the ends are below his nose. Cutting through the hair across his forehead with the scissors just above his eyebrows. As the hair falls away Willie mutters, "I can see, I can see!" Combing hair on top of his head up I hold the hair between my first and middle fingers while holding the comb with my thumb and cut two-to-three-inches of hair off above my fingers. Combing the bangs down again and they're almost the same length as when I cut across his forehead but tapered now instead of a blunt line of hair the way a little girl's bangs would be. Combing up batches of hair going back further on his head I repeat everything five times cutting off two-to-three-inches of hair each time. The last cut is for hair at the crown of his head. The cut hair is wet so it stays together in clumps on the floor of the shower stall.
Willie grins, asking, "How do I look?" I go, "Much better," and then put the scissors and comb carefully back where I got them. Willie runs his fingers back through his wet hair that's still long at about three-inches, "Yeah Dylan, it feels better than before." Then he kneels down and wipes the wet clumps of hair in a pile and picks it up to put outside the shower stall, saying, "It might clog up the shower's drain." I go, "Good thinking!" He lets the shower door close on its own and turns the third shower head back on. "Now, where were we?" I go, "I'm going to shampoo your hair and then wash your body until it shines." As I do that I feel the slippery Boy Butter between my butt cheeks as it warms inside my ass with some drooling out. No worries though, there's plenty left inside.
Shampooing and washing someone as attractive as Willie is a sexual experience. As I run my fingers through his thick light-brown hair I tell him, "Don't let your hair stylist talk you into this dumb haircut again, Willie.
You'd look better in almost any other haircut." He says, "I have no intention of getting this haircut again, but I'm glad I tried it. Ya never know...
it could have looked hot on me." Then he talks about some of the haircuts he's had me get over the years and claims everyone looked awesome.
Revisionist history again but I like haircut conversation so I don't interrupt. I also like listening to his voice. Like Robby's voice when he gets into a long dissertation about something, Willie's voice is also a bit hypnotizing.
Willie truly believes everything he says is true when he's saying it. Later he'll just as easily contradict himself, but that's part of what makes Willie, Willie.
We both take a lot of times bathing and shampooing with three shower heads pouring water down on us. There's a lady on the FM radio station I sometimes listen to who gives 'green tips' for a healthy planet. She would throw-up at the amount of water we're using during this shower. One of her green tip is to flush the toilet only once a day and another is to turn off the shower once you're wet, then wash yourself before turning it back on for a one-minute rinse. And other stuff like unplug all electric appliances until you need to use it. How convenient is that? Another 'green' tip is, one day a week go without using any electricity or water. Or how about her idea for saving the planet's trees by using only one square of toilet paper while wiping yourself after a dump? Un huh, that's a sensible idea. In other words, live like you're in a third world country. Needless to say, I don't subscribe to all her 'green' tips.
Squeaky clean again I'm on my knees sucking Willie's squeaky clean penis.
When it's very hard and almost sticking straight out, I swallow a glob of precum and stand up. Willie turns me around and the head of his cock is immediately at my asshole. He humps it in past my sphincter and gets his arms around me, mumbling, "I noticed your hickey last night. Does he always suck a hickey on your neck?" I shake my head, "Nope, just the past week or so... for old time sake." Pushing the head of his cock three inches up my ass gets my back arching a little as I grunt, "Umm!" Willie asks, "Do you remember the hickeys I used to give you?" Nodding my head, "Yep, big sore ones and you'd suck on it a couple times a day to keep it shiny and stinging." He chuckles, "Hey! I wasn't that bad, Dylan. I wanted everyone who saw you and me together to know you're mine." I go, "Excuse me while I hurl," and he laughs, then humps another three inches of hard cock up my ass and I go, "Oooh, Willie!" like it surprised me. Another hump of his hips and he has me fully impaled on his hard eight-inch rod. Feels real good too. I squirm a little in his arms, my back against his chest. "Ummm, feels good, Willie."
He tightens his hold around me with both arms, then asks, "Remember when I
insisted you sleep with my cock up your ass and you were walking bowlegged
for two days?" I go, "Yeah, in Key West. Why were you so mean?" He says, "I was insecure and immature at the time, not mean, but I formally apologize
profusely for doing that. I think God punished me by giving me that horrendous food poisoning. Remember?" I'm like, "Yep, it was terrible. I called the hotel's doctor more than once for you." He goes, "See, I treat you poorly and you help me. No wonder I love you so much." I've got nothing to say to that. When we get together Willie often mentions some of our misadventures but never the one about him almost going over the balcony. I don't mention it either. Years from now it'll be like: did that really happen? He stops talking and begins fucking with his long cock sliding tightly but smoothly in the Boy Butter. Sensations, as always, ramp-up and accumulate until I'm moaning and writhing in his arms. The wet, "Slap slap slap,"
sounds bounce prominently off the tile walls of the shower stall. His hard eight-inches sliding steadily over my prostate, both when it's going in and coming out creates a blizzard of sexually stimulating sensations and has me making a sizzling sound sucking air in through closed teeth. Oh, man it feels
constantly fantastic. I like the way he holds my body tightly and moves his hips with an upward motion driving his eight-inches of bone up my ass hard.
The slapping sounds of his body smacking against my ass gets louder and quicker the more aroused Willie gets. Louder and faster until it's a rapid wild race to the finish line and we're both grunting and almost wrestling as my climax storms up on me and my hips jerk forward for an orgasmic explosion with a shockingly small amount of cum pumping out of my cock, especially considering the enormous amount of sensations accompanying the orgasm. I'm shuddering and shaking as if a pint of cum poured out. I don't even feel Willie's climax hit inside me but he's gasping and moaning like it was a gigantic orgasm. Sucking in air, he backs-up pulling his cock from my ass causing my shoulders to do another little shudder. Willie bends over moaning, "Holy shit! That was awesome. Too fast, but awesome."
Our reaction to our climaxes from tiny amounts of spunk strikes me as so silly I start laughing, and he's like, "What?" I tell him we both shot-out about a thimble-full of spunk and we're acting like it was the climax of our lives. He goes, "I don't care. I thought my dick flew off my body and up your ass. My orgasm was that amazingly awesome." It takes a minute or so before we're back to functioning normally. Turing off the three waterfalls we step out and grab the towels he laid out for us earlier. He goes, "Damn I loved us bathing each other and then having sex in the shower. That was fun, wasn't it, Dylan?" I nod, "Oh yeah! I always like showering with a friend."
He's all grins and smiles as we dry ourselves. Quite a contrast to his mood when he walked in the door of my condo less than twenty-hours ago. The two of us spend a minute cleaning up his cut hair from the floor and then he combs his hair back exclaiming, "Holy shit! This is so much better, Dylan.
You're a genius at cutting hair." I mutter, "Yes, I know." He chuckles and then in the bedroom, he mutters, "Now we need to choose clothes for you to wear. Luckily I have some new things I've never worn, and oh yeah, look."
He opens his closet, "There's your suit and the other things from our last trip." I see a number of things in dry-cleaning plastic bags. He says, "I tried on your suit to wear to Grandfather's funeral but it didn't fit. The pants are too short. I put it back the way it came from the cleaners." I say, "Thank you, Willie," although, in truth, I don't really want that expensive group of clothes. Willie goes, "I'll make sure you don't forget your stuff this time. Count on me."
Then he insists I wear brand new boxer shorts and brand new cargo khakis and a really nice silky miracle-fabric t-shirt under a thin Polo flannel shirt. You almost can't call it flannel is so soft and the material is so much thinner than normal flannel. He has half a dozen of the same type shirts.
Without recently purchased socks so I'm forced to wear a clean pair he says he wore once. I get to wear my own sneakers and winter coat though.
Willie dresses almost identically to me but in different colors. We're on our way out for brunch somewhere. I'm willing to bet it's not to the obvious place, which is the Hilton brunch. Willie won't go there because it's too close to my condo and he wants to kidnap me for the day. I'm a willing victim because I'm enjoying being with him very much.
We end-up driving into Boston which is a mere fifteen minutes down the Mass Pike from Willie's house in Weston. He settles on the Bristol Restaurant and Bar at the Four Seasons Hotel. It's $30 to valet park the car. Then a tip when retrieving the car, I assume. Walking inside, Willie says, "This is a very cordial but elegant restaurant affording great views of the Public Garden." And it's all true. I was worried we'd be under-dressed but that's not the case. There are some well-dressed older people here but mostly it's very casual dress except for the wait staff. The buffet is $65 per person with all drinks extra. Our spiffy waiter brings us glasses of water and we both order a Bloody Mary. The spiffy nice-looking waiter doesn't even card us. It's almost one o'clock, so too late for breakfast.
When our drinks arrive Willie tells the waiter we're doing the buffet, and he goes, "Very well, Sir," and scribbles something on a small pad and then does a little head bow, saying, "I'll check in on you gentlemen periodically to see if you need anything. Enjoy your meal." I don't think I could ever pull off the classy way that guy does everything. He's cool although I'm guessing he's over twenty-three so he wouldn't be allowed on my fantasy nude beach. Hmmm, I might make an exception just to see if he could pull off being classy when naked.
The buffet is amazing but not quite up to par with the one John Smith and I were at in Worcester. As we eat we discuss buying Christmas presents for each other. I'm like, "If we're going to do that we need to set a limit on how much we spend. How about fifty-dollars maximum?" He thinks I'm being funny and laughs out loud, then says, "You're too much, Dylan. Ya can't buy anything for fifty-dollars at Copley Place." That's an upscale Mall in the Back Bay. I go, "Yes you can. They have stores like GAP, J. Crew, and Neiman Marcus. No wait, forget Neiman Marcus, otherwise known as Needless Markup." Willie goes, "Yeah? I never noticed those stores, except NM of course. I like the top-of-the-line stores and shops like, Burberry, Louis Vuitton, Dior, Chanel , and stores like that." I go, "Oh well, balls to that. Let's settle on Neiman Marcus as a compromise and make the limit one-hundred dollars." Willie goes, "You're serious, aren't you?" I shrug, "Well, yeah." He goes, "No, you shop where you want and I'll shop where I want and spend reasonably, but without some arbitrary limit. We'll separate after agreeing on a place and time to meet." I'm like, "Promise me you won't get crazy and embarrass me by buying something that cost way more than what I get you." He says, "You have my promise that I'll try to tone it down to the bare-bone minimum." We're both laughing because Willie has never toned anything down in his life.
After topping off our lunch with two awesome desserts we agree to meet in one-hour at Bar 10 which is a bar that's right here in Copley Place. Willie goes, "Don't follow me or watch which shops I go in, okay?" I'm like, "Well it's no secret that I'm shopping for your present in the Gap." Willie goes, "What do they sell in there?" I go, "Sweaters and jeans." He shrugs, "Omigod, but I'm sure you'll have good taste. See you in one-hour. Um, I'm having trouble not kissing you on the mouth right here and right now." I go, "Keep trying to fight the urge and thank you for that awesome lunch." He smiles and turns to saunter off down the wide aisle along with a million other people. It always surprises me how many people there are who can afford stores in this Mall.
I'm not going to the GAP. Willie would wipe his ass with anything from there. I'll go to Neiman Marcus so whatever I buy will at least be in their fancy box. Wandering around the store I'm trying to think what to get someone who has everything? What I need to find is like a three hundred dollar something that's on sale for like seventy-percent off. Surprisingly there are some sales racks, but not many. In Macy's I could find a deal like I got for Chubby and Rob. Macy's probably wouldn't be allowed in this mall. After a
half-hour, it hits me to look at men's jewelry. There are long glass cases
full of men's jewelry and most of the items start at $350. Men's cuff links for $495.00! Get the fuck outta here with that! Who wears French cuffs anyway? I mean other than Willie. Oh boy, there's the sale area.
I'm looking through the glass counter top to items that are on sale for $295.00, regular price $429.00. This isn't gonna work but buying him a sweater is dumb too because it would get lost among his six flannel shirts. Just about to give up on the jewelry idea I spot something on sale that's been marked down three-times to $129.99. More than I want to spend but I am making $800.00 a week so I can manage $129.99. It's very cool-looking and when I hear, "Can I show you something, young man?" It startles me because I was deep in thought. Looking up I see a sharp-looking woman dressed like she's going out to a ball. She's about thirty-years-old. I say, "Why yes. That leather bracelet. Could I see that?" She says, "Why of course. It's a Miansai." I go, "You don't say." She brings it up on top of the glass counter, saying, "This is a beautiful men's sterling silver and black leather casing bracelet. Miansai does very classic men's jewelry. We sold twenty-five of these for $429. He has a newer version out now though so this last one has been marked-down three-times." I mumble, "Oh really? I hadn't noticed."
Naturally I've never heard of this Miansai character but this is a cooler leather bracelet than the one Willie gave me a year or so ago. I look at my wrist and compare my bracelet to this one. I'd rather have the Miansai! Trying for a bored blasé approach, I mumble, "I suppose I'll take it." She says, "Smart buy," and reaches to get this very sharp looking case that she fits the bracelet in. "Would you like it gift wrapped?" Hmmm, I wonder how much that cost? I go, "Um, yes please." What the fuck, so it's another five dollars, or whatever. She takes my debit card and uses it like a credit card. I sign the slip she puts in front of me and then she takes quite a bit longer to wrap the present than I expected. She finally brings it back and it looks gorgeous. Plus, there's no extra charge for wrapping. I probably thanked too exuberantly and thus ruining my bored blasé attitude, but whaddaya gonna do? I wait outside Bar 10 at the end of the Mall for twenty minutes before I see Willie strolling down the aisle carrying a shopping bag. He's got a big smile on his face, saying, "It was fun shopping for you, and I got a couple of things for myself too. Love this fucking mall. Have you been waiting long?" I shrug, "Are we gonna have a drink in this bar?" He goes, "Nah, let's go to my place and exchange gifts." He's glances at the little bag his gift is in. I say, "It's a small package but something nice is in it." He says, "I hope you didn't go over the limit we agreed on." We chuckle at that and then as we're walking towards the elevator to go down to the parking garage, I tell him, "No I stayed within my first suggested limit. Your gift was on sale for $29.95," and Willie chuckles, muttering, "No way. Nothing cost $29.95."
The traffic sucks getting to the Mass Pike but once we're on it it's a quick ride to Willie's mansion. Inside he gets us a couple of beers and we go to the library. Willie says, "We can grab a smoke in here," and he flicks the switch on the inside wall of bookcases turning-on the quiet exhaust fan.
He gets a big ashtray and we sit on the floor smoking and drinking our Dutch Amstel beer. Willie says, "Open the present I got for you first," and he takes a large box out of the shopping bag leaving four other boxes in the bag. I go, "Those other boxes better not be presents for me." He goes, "They're not." I look at my box. It's from Burberry and not wrapped but there's a really nice red ribbon tying the box. I go, "Very festive," and Willie says, "Merry Christmas, Dylan." I mumble, "Thank you, and the same to you."
Taking the ribbon off I open the box and see a beautiful sweater on top of a pair of jeans." Willie says, "You said you were shopping at the GAP where they sold sweaters and jeans so that's what I got you." I go, "From Burberry?" He shrugs, "It was the first store I came to that might sell sweaters and jeans." I hold up the sweater. It's light and very soft. Reading the label, I go, "Richmond check-patch cashmere-blend long-sleeve sweater." It's black and looks very cool. I squint my eyes at him, asking, "How much did this cost?" He goes, "Do you like it?" I nod, "Yeah, of course. It's awesome!" He goes, "Then what difference does it make how much it cost?" I say, "A lot because of what your present cost." Then I hold up Burberry brand black slim-fit straight-leg jeans. The material and the cut of the jeans, with little extra stitching, screams 'I'm fuckin' expensive!' I go, "Oh man, I know these were not $39.95 like Levi jeans." He shrugs again, and I say, "I love them! They're the coolest jeans I own and with the cool sweater too... I'll be hot." He goes, "You already are hot. Aren't you proud of me for buying reasonable gifts?" I say, "I'm partially proud of you, but knowing Burberry prices I'm leery."
I can't put my finger on it or describe why exactly but there's just a different something between very expensive sweaters and jeans and the ones I'd buy in Macy's. Willie goes, "So what's my present?" I give it to him and when he gets the wrapping paper off he goes crazy about how perfect the bracelet is. He says, "I know this designer, Miansai." I ask, "Is he Oriental?"
He chuckles, "No, he's a guy named Michael Saiger who started making simple jewelry as a senior at the University of Miami while studying marketing.
He couldn't make the stuff fast enough. That's a few years ago and now he sells his stuff in many outlets, plus has his own store. His stuff sells for between one-hundred and fourteen-thousand-dollars." I go, "No shit?" and Willie looks closely at the bracelet, saying, "I'd estimate this as between three-and-four-hundred dollars." I go, "You're close, but I bought it at a marked-down price." He says, "It's awesome," and he puts it on, adding, "I really like it. Ain't it cool?" I nod, "Yeah," and hold my wrist up showing him my leather bracelet. Willie goes, "Hey, I gave you that." I nod and he goes, "This one is miles ahead of that one. I'm gonna get you one like this." I say. "Next Christmas." So the bracelet is a hit. I can tell when Willie's faking and this time he's sincere.
I know he really likes it. I know I like the clothes he bought me too.
They're very cool and I know they cost more than even I think they did. It's five o'clock so I say, "I really should be getting home, Willie. This has been a wonderful date! You're awesome," and I put my arms around his neck and kiss him quickly on the lips, saying, "We need to see each other more than just twice a year." He goes, "Absolutely but why do you need to get home?"
I explain I only get to spend time with my Mom on Sundays and he reluctantly understands, which is another surprise. Willie's getting nicer. After our beer, we get our coats on and head for the garage. I wish I could thank and say goodbye to Martha and Paul but they're not back yet.
During the drive to my place Willie says, "In all sincerity, Dylan, thank you for sharing the last day and a half with me. It was absolutely the best medicine for me. I was down and very sad and while I'm still sad about losing Grandfather I'll have the sweet memory of you consoling me as only you can. No one else in the world can make me think positively like you can, and I love you for it. Basically, I'm saying a heartfelt thank you." I'm like, "I don't know what the right thing to say is, Willie, but I liked being with you and if it was some comfort to you, I'm super happy about that. And I was dead serious about us getting together more often." At my condo, we hug in the car and he promises to keep in touch. It was an anticlimactic farewell actually, but just right I think.
I wave goodbye as he drives off and then I feel like kicking myself for saying, 'I'm dead serious'. I mean considering the circumstances I maybe could have chosen another word for 'dead'. Only when I'm inside my condo do I realize I never got the clothes Willie bought for me the last time we were together. Oh well, I'd feel like a fraud wearing a two or three-thousand-dollar suit anyway. Plus, the temptation to hock it would be significant... ha ha. No, I'd never do that to Willie. Inside, I go, "Hello! Anybody home?"
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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