DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 48
by Donny Mumford
Under one arm I'm carrying the clothes I wore to Willie's last night while the sweater and jeans Willie gave me as Christmas presents are over my other arm as I walk into the code ??, asking, "Anybody home?" Mom comes out of her bedroom carrying a basket of soiled clothes. She shows me a big smile and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I mumble, "Hi, Mom, whassup?" She goes, "Let me help you with those dirty clothes, Honey," and she takes the clothes from under my arm and adds them to her basket. On her way downstairs to the washer machine she says over her shoulder, "I'll be right back and I wanna hear how your friend is doing." Nodding I'm like, "Sure thing, Mom." I go to my bedroom to drop the sweater and jeans on my bed and then use the bathroom. Mom's waiting for me in the kitchen, asking, "So, how's Willie holding up?" While getting a Coke from the refrigerator I tell Mom about my last thirty-some hours, omitting obvious parts of it. We sit at the kitchen table and for the next forty-five minutes she tells me more than I need to know about what her, Tris, and the twin fiancés have been up to. I have to laugh with her at some of her observations and points of view, which are often quite different than my own.
Mom tells me we're all to be at Rider's condo by seven-thirty tonight for a Sunday dinner that the guys are preparing. By 'all' she means her and Tris obviously, plus Chubby, me, and Rob. I explain that Rob's away on business which impresses Mom, and then I'm like, "You said Rider's condo. Doesn't Bud live there too?" I've always thought the twins shared a condo but Mom tells me they each have their own. The condos are in a relatively new complex over-looking, for Rider's condo, the tenth fairway of the Wellesley Country Club. Huh, this will be the first- time Chub and I have ever been to their place.
Mom's a mere three minutes into a detailed description of the condos when she gets a cellphone call. I take this opportunity to escape to my bedroom smiling at her energetic greeting for Tris. It's like she hasn't seen her for years. Sitting on my bed I examine the sweater and jeans a little closer. Hmmm, Burberry slim-fit jeans, huh? I can't resist going online to Google 'Burberry'. Typing in 'slim-fit jeans' a lot of choices appear on the screen including the exact duplicate of the ones Willie gave me. All the jeans are $215 each. For jeans! It'll be interesting to see what the Richmond check-patch sweater cost? And I have no idea what 'check-patch' means.
Clicking on 'sweaters' I need to narrow down the search so I include 'cashmere-blend, long-sleeve' and my sweater, in a different color, appears on the screen. It's $350, which is ridiculous of course but there it is. Actually, I guess it's about what I'd expect from Burberry. Well the present I bought Willie is actually a $429 bracelet. Sure I got it for $129, but still we're almost even. Ha ha, not really, dummy! Since when is $565 equal to $429, never mind $129? I had best intentions though. Then I think about the leather bracelet I bought for one of Rob's Christmas presents and realize what a bargain Willie's was. Damn, I love this fucking sweater though! The jeans too. Mom calls in to me, "Tris says Jeffrey we'll drive us at seven o'clock."
I call out, "I'll be ready," and even though I don't really need to, I take another shower. Hmmm, I think I know what I'm wearing tonight too.
Rider's condo is a very nice two-story condo that's much larger than ours.
The guys have an awesome Christmas tree with a fire going in the gas fireplace. There's a patio off the back as well as a small back yard. I'm told Bud's condo is like Rider's except it overlooks the par-three twelfth hole.
When Chub and I finish complimenting Rider on his condo there's some compliments for my new sweater and then Bud and I are getting drinks for everyone in the kitchen. Opening a bottle of wine for the Moms, he goes, "You've got yourself a generous friend there, Dylan. That Burberry sweater probably cost three-hundred-dollars." I go, "Get out! No way!" He shrugs smiling and saying, "Yes, way!"
The best thing about this Sunday night dinner is it feels like a real family affair. Rider and Bud are really good guys and I'm totally comfortable with both of them. They're almost as many years younger than the Moms as they are older than Chub and me. After a good roast-beef dinner prepared mostly by Rider, Chub and I put our coats on and share a smoke on the patio in the cold. Chub wants to know about Willie and I tell him putting Willie in a sympathetic light emphasizing how upset he was about his grandfather's passing. Chub goes, "Huh, I never figured him for caring enough to cry over anyone." I go, "That's because you don't really know him, Chub." Then we discuss how strange it will be to have step-dads who are almost like guys we could be friends with. They seem younger and they definitely look younger than thirty. The Moms are both thirty-eight, soon to be thirty-nine, and they both look younger than their age too. It's like everyone gets to have a certain 'look' somewhere in their twenties, some looking younger than their age and some older-looking than they are, and then they pretty much look the same for the next like twenty years or so.
Chub and I concluded long ago that the twins are okay guys and it's easy-going and relaxing for Chub and I knowing our Moms are in good hands, so to speak. There's nothing phony or over-the-top with the twins either and they don't feel they need to suck-up to Chub and me as our future Step-Dads.
Our relationship it's very casual plus they're often kinda funny and it's almost always fun being with the Moms and their guys.
It's not a late night and I only have two beers at Rider's so Monday morning I'm feeling good. Driving to work in Rob's pickup I'm eager to see him.
First though I need to report to Dottie to get today's work assignment. She gets me set-up in a conference room with a laptop. I'm following a chart editing information from a computer program that's more than ten-years old.
It's boring and repetitive work but better than dealing with old dusty files. Both Rob and Dottie openly admit that all my assignments are ones that no one else wants to do. At least they're honest about it. Rob hasn't shown-up by lunch time so I take both my morning coffee break and my lunch hour alone in the conference room. Dottie has her girlfriends at work who she has coffee breaks and lunches with, but that isn't something I want any part of.
As soon as he arrives Rob brings me into his office and we have a sweet hugging-kissing reunion for two-minutes. Rob then needs to right away attend another meeting but we plan on spending the night together at one of our houses. Which one it will be has yet to be determined. As it turns out Rob and I have dinner with Chubby and then the three of us watch Monday Night Football on TV. Rob stays the night at my place and we have quite a sexy time of it in bed. We don't get to sleep until almost two o'clock so we're both dragging a little bit Tuesday morning. The rest of the week flies by and then the next day is Christmas Eve. Rob wants us to be together celebrating Christmas with both families. That's actually a possibility because coincidentally the Dickers and my family have convenient holiday schedules. I mean, convenient from Rob's and my point of view. Christmas Eve is when the Dickers open their Christmas presents while my family has always done that traditionally on Christmas morning. So I spent Christmas Eve with Rob's family, which entails a midnight church service, and then I sleep over. Early Christmas morning the two of us drive to Chubby's condo. That's where we've decorated the tree and where we're exchanging gifts this year. We alternate his place and mine year to year. Rider and Bud bring Dunkin' Donuts coffees for everyone, plus a dozen donuts.
One of Chubby's present for me is an identical iPad tablet to the one I got for him. Unknowingly we've bought identical gifts for each other six or seven times over the many Christmases we've had together. It used to freak us out but now we just shake our heads and shrug. Whaddaya gonna do when you share a brain like that? Tris gives us identical presents too. We each get a framed five-inch by seven-inch photograph of our Dad with Chub and I photoshopped standing on either side of him. In the photo, we're all seventeen-years-old. The picture was originally Dad and Tris the day they were married but she had it photoshopped cutting her out and putting us boys in. Dad, Chubby, and I all have the same grin on our faces. Chub and I try to be cool about it, amazed at the expert photoshopping. Then later we're out on the balcony, just the two of us having a smoke, and we both shed a couple of tears staring at the photo. It's the coolest picture either of us will ever see in our lives.
The other convenient holiday happenstance is that the Dickers have Christmas dinner at one o'clock in the afternoon. My family has always had Christmas dinner around eight o'clock Christmas night. So Rob and I attend both Christmas dinners making a pact beforehand that we won't critique the dinners
as to which one is better. The afternoon dinner at the Dickers includes Rob's Grandparents, an uncle and aunt, plus two girl cousins who Rob says used to flirt with him but don't anymore. They've probably finally gotten the message he's gay. They don't flirt with me either.
The dinner is buffet style as there are too many people to sit around a table. Rob and I take our plates downstairs putting them on the ping-pong table instead of our laps like some are forced to do upstairs. We smirk at each other feeling clever that we snuck away from the loud and slightly drunk group upstairs. Then we hear someone unsteadily coming down the steps. We make a 'face' at each other and then turn seeing it's his Uncle Ted who is especially loud and more than slightly intoxicated. As we eat he tells us a number of times how lucky Rob and I are to be living in today's accepting society. Meaning because we're gay obviously, although he doesn't actually say the word. He's a touchy-feely guy too and overly complimentary about how good looking Rob and I are. He's standing behind Rob with a hand on each of Rob's shoulders sort of shaking him while telling me what a great athlete I have in Rob as my, um, 'friend'. I tell him I'm well aware of that. It's possible Uncle Ted has some latent homosexual leanings that he's been suppressing all his life. I'll bet he was disappointed both times his wife gave birth. Or maybe I'm way off base with that, and I hope for Uncle Ted's sa ke I am.
With the exception of a few awkward moments at Rob's house both dinners turned out better than I hoped for. Then our second Christmas dinner is at Bud's condo because it's much larger than either of our condos, plus the twins' parents are spending Christmas with their sons. Also the twins' sister, her husband and their two-and-a-half-year-old boy, William, who appears to misunderstand the meaning of the word 'no'. Except for the brat, William, it's an awesome Christmas dinner. The twins rented an extra table and chairs so everyone has a seat for dinner. Unfortunately Rob, Chubby, and I are stuck at the table with the sister and her husband, who is a dentist, and William of course. He's a food-thrower. William is, not the dentist. The toddler throws a cranberry at Chubby and the lad's mother says, "No, William,"
and William says, "No!" and throws some peas grinning at us boys. He bangs a turkey wing on his plate splashing gravy on the tablecloth and the mother again says, "No!" as the dentist pretends he's someplace else. William laughs saying, "NO! NO!" Chub, with a dead-pan delivery, says, "Don't despair.
If they could teach Helen Keller table manners, ya know... there's hope."
The dentist chuckles but Mommy said, "It's not funny. I give William age-appropriate instructions," and she stops talking when a pea hits her nose.
Again with the, "No, William!" and he says, "NO!" and laughs."
The food is good though. We survive the meal and, everything considered, this was my best Christmas ever. We all lay around recovering the next day and then the day after that Rob and I fly out of Logan for a three-night vacation in Orlando, Florida. Each day we go to a different amusement park; Disney World the first day and one of the two Universal Theme parks the next two days. In the early evenings we swim in the hotel's huge swimming pool.
At night, we make love and it's the sexiest and most fun three-days I've never had. We invited Chubby but he saw our trip for what it was, a lovers' getaway, and gracefully bowed-out.
This Christmas break was very expensive for me but my two weeks working for Rob covered two-thirds of the money I spent. I would have spent the other third from my savings during any normal Christmas break, so I'm good money-wise. Then it's back to Merrimack with Chub driving us in the Jeep the first Tuesday of the new year, a day before classes begin. We'll use today to get our shit together for what's coming. We've all pre-registered online for this semester's classes and have our text books and schedules in hand.
Everything that used to be a pain-in-the-ass about beginning a new semester for freshman and sophomore years seems simple now. Nothing like experience to ease things along. Rob drives back to college in the pickup and arrives forty-minutes after Chubby drops me off at the apartment.
The drudgery of a freezing-cold January and February is further complicated by too many snow storms. Used to this kind of shitty weather we all stoically endure it but that doesn't mean we don't bitch about it from time to time. During these first two months of the new year I only manage to meet John Smith at the bar for lunch and a smoke once a week, at most, plus Pony and I manage to get it on only weekly as well. That's the total extent of my side-sex with buddies. Nothing else materializes but I'm not complaining because Rob and I have been fucking like rabbits. What the hell, there isn't much else to do when you're snowed-in. Sex with Rob is always awesome and seems new somehow no matter how frequently we do it. We talked about learning to ski as there's a ski lift a half hour drive from here but never do get around to doing it.
A routine develops where Chubby and John Beverly have dinner at the apartment with us usually two or three nights a week and then we watch TV or play cards. This semester we have mostly elective courses getting the heavier ones over with last semester and consequently the academic workload isn't all that horrible. Rob and I do homework right after classes like we did last semester. I'm so used to that by now and I hardly every bitch about it more than once a day. Rob spends a couple of hours at the baseball complex two or three days a week which is when I sometimes get to spend a little time with my side-sex buddy, Pony. His schedule and mine conflict though preventing us from taking full advantage of Rob's time hitting baseballs or whatever he does at the baseball complex. In the back of my mine is the fact Danny Monday is at the baseball facility too.
As planned Rob continues being my barber doing two haircuts for me after that first memorable one that Sunday before my first day of work during Christmas break. I can't say there's been any noticeable improvement in his barbering skills but that's not to say the haircuts suck. They mostly turn-out okay although they end-up being too short by the time Rob's corrects all his 'Oops'. Rob still gets his haircuts from Golden hoping the younger teammates will see him as just one of the guys even though he is a junior as well as a co-captain. John Beverly caved-in and asked me for a haircut when Chubby was getting one, so that's cool. It's funny that the more time I spend with John Beverly the less I like him. I've tried analyzing my feelings because he isn't doing anything especially annoying. I've come to wonder if my negative feelings for him are because Chubby likes John so much. Could that fact be distorting my opinion of John? Am I jealous of my brother's friend? Jesus, I hope that's not it! Daryl asks for haircuts too often because he likes hanging-out at the apartment afterwards. John Smith hasn't wanted another haircut yet so I guess he's maintaining his schedule of a haircut every three or four months. Hell, I'd give him a haircut for free but currently his hair is getting to look like it did when I first met him.
So anyway, it's been two months of dealing with either freezing snowy weather or sloppy slushy snow. After a snow storm, everything is pristine but it soon turns dirty and ugly as it melts and refreezes into mounds that need to be navigated around. In short, January and February are two months I could do without but then it's March first and the start of preseason baseball practice at Merrimack. Practices are indoors necessitated by the weather in the Northeastern part of America. Sometime during the middle of March the preseason games turn into games that count in the standings. All early games in the conference are scheduled for Southern universities because of the more temperate climate there. Then almost all Merrimack's games through April and the first week of May will be played here.
None of this would matter to me except baseball season changes Rob's and my routine drastically. I never did get a job associated with the baseball team so consequently Rob and I will be apart during practice almost every day for three hours, and then there's his overnight trips to play baseball out of state. It's not that this is something new for us. It's was the same freshman and sophomore years although in past years I had Ryan to help occupy my time. Also, the first two years Chubby was in the apartment with Rob and me. So this year is different in a number of ways. The obvious solution to this extra time on my hands would be to spend more time with John Smith and Daryl except John Smith works full time and Daryl's class schedule is different than mine. When he's free I have class and vice versa. So, I'll see what develops.
On the first day of Rob's mandatory baseball practice we're walking out of
our last class on a raw early March day and he passes me his backpack, "Well, this is the start of it, Dylan. I'm excited that it's baseball season at last." I go, "Rob, you've been going to the baseball workout facility for weeks now." I'm a little pouty that much of his free time will be taken by baseball activities the next ten weeks. He goes, "Hell, I only spent an hour or so a couple of days a week hitting balls, babe. That's nothing. Now it really starts." I go, "Yeah, I know. What's so great about it though?"
He holds his arms out, "Do you mean in addition to me loving the game of baseball my entire life? Jesus, it's the camaraderie of teammates and the competition to win a starting spot on the team; then playing games that count.
It's exhilarating, Dylan!" I nod, "Yeah, for you." He pats my back, "Be happy for me." I go, "I am, Rob, but I'll miss our time together after class."
He says, "Yeah, so will I but you can always come to watch practice like you did during fall practice." Oh man, that reminds me of Beth and Frankie.
Ewww! I go, "I'll be there some days, Rob. Um, can I have the keys to the pickup?" He goes, "Oh yeah, of course," and hands me the keys. I go, "Text me when practice is over and I'll pick you up. Good luck!" He waves as he jogs off with a smile on his face. I come in second with Rob during baseball
season.
It's not like I didn't know this was coming but in past years I wasn't dealing with as deep a connection with Rob as I have this year. We've never been as tight as we are right now and I don't just mean as lovers; I mean as really close friends too. Having the apartment to ourselves has something to do with it but I think it's me finally appreciating all of Rob's attributes. Oh well, like he said, I'm happy for him. Taking a deep resigned breath, I'm walking away with a backpack over each shoulder realizing I've made no plans for the rest of the day and it's only ten-after-one. Yeah, but on the other hand there's a certain amount of freedom associated with Rob's baseball activities. Now, if I could think of how to make the best of it.
It's weird too that during baseball season we aren't doing class assignments until after dinner instead of right after last class. Yeah but, after getting in the habit of doing assignments right after class I have this stupid feeling that maybe I should do some of that that now. Hmmm, I'm pretty sure I can overcome that urge without much effort... heh heh.
When I walk around the Quad heading for the parking lot I see a large someone leaning against the pickup and immediately flash back to the frat party incident with that big gorilla asshole, Peter. I haven't thought of him in months. Oh please, let it be someone else! The closer I get though the more it looks like the gorilla. Goddammit! He's staring at me with a smirk on his face. My heart thumps against my ribs as I look around without seeing any help. Balls! Faking 'cool' I stop ten feet away from him and ask, "What do you want?"
He slouches against the fender, "What the fuck do you think I want? Revenge." I shrug, "Revenge for what? You tripped and bumped your head." He snickers, "Oh no, don't give me that bull-shit. I've been told you and your faggot brother tripped me on purpose." I go, "Whoever told you that is either a liar or they're delusional. You came at me and our feet got tangled. As we were both falling I pushed at you and you fell down backwards." It's incongruous that an astonishing cute face like his is on that big goofy body.
It's a waste of a cute face, that's for sure.
Peter wipes the back of his hands across his nose leaving a wet smear across his knuckles and sneers, "I spent three fucking days in the hospital with a concussion because of you." I go, "Ha! Because of your clumsiness you mean and, hey, I ripped my khakis. You gonna buy me a new pair?" He pushes away from the pickup, "You're a liar and you can stick your ripped khakis up your ass." I make a face like, this is so annoying, then say, "Whatever, Peter. Um, did you know that holding a grudge can turn you into a bitter person; one who doesn't have any fun. You need to embrace forgiveness of an unintentional mix-up and move on with your high school life." He asks, "Hey, why the fuck aren't you scared? You should be, you skinny shit?" I let out a long exhale shaking my head, "What, didn't you enjoy our buddy sex? Is that your problem?" He says, "I enjoyed it immensely and I'm going to enjoy it again after I smack you around until you're as docile as a kitten." I go, "I don't think so," and he says, "Somebody needs to answer for my three days in the hospital." I go, "You tripped over your own damn feet. Whaddaya want from me?"
He moves a step closer, saying, "Fuck you. It's simple, I'm going to carry you screaming and begging for mercy to my van and beat you up good before fucking your brains out. Then, just like I found you, I'm going to find that pipsqueak of a brother and do the same thing to him." I go, "Why? He didn't do a fucking thing except help me up. Anyway, why do you want to fuck with the us two? Do you have a death wish or something?" He starts towards me and I point behind him, saying, "Look whose here." He stops and turns to look behind him and I take off in the other direction jackrabbit fast. Us animals have a fight/flight gene and this situation calls for flight. Peter is six-inches-taller and a hundred pounds of muscles heavier than little ol' me. I'm fast though and as I come to the end of the parking lot there's three feet of gravel that I'm careful not to slip in. Looking over my shoulder I see Peter is very quick for a guy his size and he's gaining on the jackrabbit making me feel more like a turtle. What the fuck? Carrying two backpacks is slowing me down.
There's students walking in small groups but so far they're not paying attention to us and, rather than help me, they'll more likely gather round cheering-on the fight watching me get my ass kicked. Now Peter's fifteen feet behind me, a motivated gorilla for sure. In desperation, I throw Rob's backpack at him but it catches on my hand and lands five feet in front of him.
He snarls, "You skinny faggot," but his foot catches in a strap of the backpack and he stumbles then falls forward sliding face first in the cold hard gravel stopping only when the top of his head connects with the bottom of an aluminum light standard. It sounded like, BONK! He just lies there pounding his bloody fist on the gravel. I'm backing up cautiously as he groans and curses. Then, taking advantage of the situation, I jog a circuitous route around him to retrieve the backpack and then scurry for the pickup. My heart's pounding like a drum and the adrenaline that poured into my system is now making me feel slightly nauseous.
Looking back, I see he's sitting up with his back against the light pole with students around him. Blood's dripping from some part of his nose, forehead, and from the palms of both hands as he gives me the finger and yells something. No way am I taunting him further, so I get in the pickup and fire-up the engine. He's standing and brushing himself off as I drive away wondering if he knows where I live? And how the fuck did he know this was our pickup? Mother-fucker! I don't need this! At the apartment, I text Chubby that I ran into the gorilla and Peter's looking for his pound of flesh. I only narrowly escaped his wrath. Chubby immediately calls from the Quad, "Did he touch you?" I tell him, "No, he fell again and hit his head." He says, "Hit his head? On what? Never mind, I'm coming right over and we'll talk about it." Washing my face and hands I'm feeling a little shaky with a lot less bravado than I pretended to have when confronting Peter the wolf. Ya know what? I gotta buy a can of pepper spray or maybe a gun. That guy is dangerous. What'd he think, I was going to have a fist fight with someone six-inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier than me. Goddammit this pisses me off.
I go online and Google: 'is pepper spray legal in Massachusetts?' After reading the almost incomprehensible laws on the matter, as far as I can tell a Massachusetts resident can legally carry pepper spray, but only for protection against bears. Yeah, a pepper spray for bears-only. Too bad I can't use the bear spray on gorillas. Or another way of looking at it is in Massachusetts only criminals may carry Taser guns and pepper spray. Huh! So, if a
girl uses pepper spray on a would-be rapist she's the one who broke the law. Very helpful law for the rapists and robbers I guess. In most states pepper spray is legal and there's a pepper spray pen advertised that contains five one-second bursts of pepper spray that will stop an attacker. That would be perfect protection, but I don't want to break the law so I'll get robbed, beat-up, or murdered instead of breaking the law carrying pepper spray.
Chubby buzzes the door. Huh, that's faster than I would have imagined he could get here from the Quad. I buzz him in and wait for him in the hall. He bursts through the door from the stairs, saying, "Seriously, did he hurt you, Dylan?" I shake my head and we go inside the apartment. "What happened? Tell me everything." So I tell him almost word for word what happened and he laughs. "Oh fuck, he fell and hit his head again." I'm nodding and kind of grinning, but then say, "We knew this guy was a sicko from what happened at the frat party, right? So we better take him seriously."
I tell Chub about the ridiculous Massachusetts law regarding pepper spray and he ask, "How about a Taser?" I just give him a 'look' and he goes, "Oh that's right, we live in Massachusetts... I retract the question. What do you think we should do?" I'm like, "What can we do. I forget his last name and don't know where he lives or works so we can't even discuss it with him. We need to wait for him to pop-up some place unexpected." Chub says, "If he pops-up some place unexpectedly and it's you and me, or you and Rob, I like our chances. I've seen Rob go ballistic so that'd be interesting." I go, "Yeah, he does go ballistic especially when he has something hard in his hand like a baseball bat, but unfortunately he doesn't know when to stop."
Chub nods, "With two of us good-old-Petey might have his hands full, individually not so much." I mumble, "I am so sick of hearing that catch phrase, 'not so much'." Chub mutters, "Yeah, me too."
We get a bottle of beer each and drink it on the balcony smoking a cigarette trying to come up with a plan. Our best idea is maybe buying a couple of blackjacks. Done our smokes I go, "We better Google to see if blackjacks are legal in this state." As we go inside, he says, "I think we both know they're not." We Google and find the law pertaining to blackjacks and about every other defensive device one could imagine to protect yourself against attack, and they are all illegal except in the hands of law enforcement types. A civilian using a protective device will get at least eighteen months in jail, and as much as five years if you look cross-eyed at the judge. In other words take your beating or rape, recover in the hospital and stop your whining. Chubby and I look at each other and I go, "Do you think guns are okay?" He laughs, "Probably not, but for shits and giggles let's check." As I'm doing that Chub mumbles, "Not that I want a gun." I go, "Me neither."
Oddly you can carry a gun on your person if you fulfill about twenty requirements and have a good reason for a gun license, like routinely carry large sums of cash or you work in a dangerous area etc. etc. Chub says, "Peter the gorilla probably wouldn't be enough reason for the police to okay a license to carry." I mutter, "Probably not."
I'm like, "So we're on our own, Chub. It boils down to this: the law won't allow you to protect yourself, but after someone fucks you up good you can file a complaint. That's assuming you live, and if you don't live the cops will try halfheartedly to find out who killed you, within reason...
maybe." Chubby goes, "You're so young and yet so cynical." I'm like, "Hey, an Idaho potato in a sock is almost as good as a blackjack. I didn't see any ban on potatoes in my Google research. We can carry it in our backpacks." He shrugs, chuckling, "And tell Peter to wait a second while I get my sock out of my backpack." I go, "And with my luck after a couple of weeks I'll forget about the potato as it rots in the sock and I'll be like, 'What the fuck is that horrible smell?'" We chuckle, but we're on the lookout for Peter and we hope we'll think of something to do to protect ourselves on the spur of the moment. That's our plan.
Finished our beers, I ask, "What have you got going now, Chub?" He says, "I'm going to the dorm and study for a mid-term." He and John Beverly wanted to switch from the dorm to an apartment for second semester except they ran into too many obstacles doing it halfway through the year, so they remain in the dormitory. Next year though they'll start off in an apartment like Rob and I were smart enough to do. I'm like, "Yeah, mid-terms blow. The scholastic part of college screws-up everything, huh?" He nods, patting my shoulder, saying, "If you see the psycho text me immediately and I'll come running. I like the slant you put on the incident though. The concept of your feet getting tangled with his and both of you falling. He was knocked-out so he doesn't remember and maybe if we stick with your version he'll eventually buy it." I go, "Yeah, we can't keep hitting him over the head with a baseball bat which it'll come down to if he persists in bothering either of us." We leave it at that and Chub takes off to study which is, in fact, occasionally necessary at college.
I'm not going to tell Rob about this while he's at practice, but I will tell him about it when he gets home so he knows the situation. Hmmm, it's almost two o'clock and I haven't eaten lunch yet! After checking what we have in the refrigerator I decide to eat out. It's too late to hook-up with John Smith though, and Pony has classes until four o'clock today so I'm on my own. I'm thinking a cheesesteak from the Pizza Factory would hit the spot.
That's what the shop is called, The Pizza Factory and it's the closest pizza shop that also does an okay cheesesteak. Putting on my winter coat I give a thought that Peter might be thinking cheesesteak too. Is this how it's going to be? Me looking over my shoulder or hovering in the apartment? No! I refuse to be like that so out I go wondering again if that turd knows where I live? Driving to the Pizza Factory where, as I said, they also sell subs, salads, chicken fingers and wings and every other thing you can think of. Over the counter where you place your order is a menu three-feet-high and twelve-feet across listing about a hundred food items you can order. I go inside knowing that this time of day it's not going to be busy. I see there's only one guy sitting at a table drinking from a quart bottle of Hawaiian Punch, probably waiting for whatever he ordered. The counter guys are friendly in here and with a smile a tall skinny guy with a seriously receding hairline asks me, 'What can I get for you today?" I'm like, "A large cheesesteak and a can of soda." The guy writes it down asking, "Here or to go?" Normally I'd say 'to go' because I'd rather eat it in my apartment than eat here alone. Today however, to prove to myself I'm not afraid to be out and about despite Peter the gorilla, I say, "Here," and after paying I go over to the refrigerated cooler and choose a Pepsi instead of Coke just to be different.
Popping the tab and taking a swallow of Pepsi I sit at a table as far away from where the other guy's sitting as possible. Glancing over briefly I see he appears to be in his twenties and he's wearing a uniform of some sort.
Parked at the curb is a delivery truck with 'Italio's Bakery' on the box part of the truck so that's what's probably inscribed on the guy's shirt and hat. He's holding his hat though so I can't read what's on the front. I can see he has a big pile of white-blond thick unkempt hair hanging down on his forehead. I think back to when, for a couple of months, I had hair that long.
One of the cooks puts a plastic basket with an Italian sub cut in half inside, saying, "Here ya go, Dennis." The delivery guy looks up and nods. He brings his large Hawaiian Punch bottle with him as he picks up the sub, mumbling, "Thanks, Worm." Worm? Jesus, what a nickname for someone in the food industry. Dennis carries his sub and quart of Hawaiian Punch walking right up to where I'm sitting and asks, "Would you mind if I joined you? We're the only ones in here and so it's seem antisocial if..." I'm looking at him like he just stepped out of a spaceship so he shrugs and smiles waiting for me to say something. He's missing a bottom tooth but he has a very nice smile. His eyes are soft and he seems nervous. Shrugging again he looks over to where he was sitting before as I take a few seconds before saying, "Yeah, I guess so." He sits down mumbling, 'Thanks, I hate eating alone." Well fuck, so do I but it's preferable to eating with a stranger! He holds his hand out, "Hi, I'm Dennis Raymond and that's my truck out there." I stupidly look out at the truck shaking his hand, mumbling, "Dylan, how ya doing?" He has this open face with a 'gosh gee' expression, telling me, "My shift ends at four but I'm already done all my deliveries and pick-ups. I'm not dumb enough to go in early though 'cause they'll increase my route." I nod, "Huh." Pushing the big blob of hair off his forehead, he asks, "Are you a Merrimack student?" then he picks up half the sub and takes a big bite. If he eats with his mouth open, I'll scream! He doesn't though, so I nod, "Yeah, I'm a junior." He swallows, pats his mouth with a paper napkin and says, "Holy shit you don't look old enough. Did you skip grades in middle school or something?" I'm looking over at the counter trying to think
if it's too late to get that cheesesteak to go. I mean without being obviously rude about it. And why the fuck doesn't someone call me on my cellphone? That'd be perfect! Shaking my head, I ask, "What was that?" He's chewing and smiling holding up a finger like, 'just a second'.
He swallows and goes, "I wondered if you skipped a grade or two because you look too young to be a junior at college." What the hell, he's a nice enough guy and friendly as a puppy. I go, "No, ha. No skipped grades. I'm twenty-one which is the appropriate age to be a junior at college. Did you, um...?" He finishes my stupid question for me, saying, "Go to college?" What would he be driving a delivery truck for if he went to college? He says, "No, I wish I had though. I'm saving money to go later. It's probably a lot of fun with parties and beer-drinking-sessions while talking deep thoughts with your roommate, huh?" Big friendly smile. I go, "Not quite like that, no.
Um, did you go to North Andover High?" He shakes his head and swallows, saying, "No, I graduated three years ago from St. Pete's High School in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Guess we're the same age then, huh?" For something to say, I ask, "Did you play sports? Big guy like you." He nods, "Football and basketball. I was a center on the football team and a 'four' on the basketball team, you know, power forward. Look at me now though. I'm getting flabby already." I go, "Ha, you look in pretty good shape to me."
I'm just noticing that the front part of his hair, the bangs and a little further back, are the only long thick hairs on his head. Behind those hairs, all the rest of the hair on his head is an uneven one-to-one-and-a-half-inches-long. It's a really bizarre, um, weird haircut. Dennis asks, "How's dormitory life? Is it all guys or are you in a guys and girls dormitory?" I say, "Huh? Oh, I live off campus sharing an apartment with my, um, friend."
Worm puts a basket with my cheesesteak in it on the counter, saying, "Here's your sub, pal." I get it and bring it back to the table. Dennis is a nice guy if a bit, I don't know, innocent or maybe he's slightly retarded.
He goes, "I live in an apartment with a roommate too." Then he points in the general direction of the gas station, saying, "Down route 125 at the Hillview Apartments. That's our temporary residence anyway. Wayne has a big ranch in Texas but we're hardly ever there." I'm thinking, 'what the fuck?' as I mumble, "Un huh," and take a bite of my cheesesteak." The melted cheese burns my tongue so I grimace and drink some Pepsi. Looking up I see the sun shining through the big plate glass window at the front of the shop behind Dennis. His ears stick straight out the sides of his head and both ears are like glowing pink from the sun shining through them. Nice shaped ears though. You see guys with tiny ears that look weirdly funny. Poor guys.
Dennis has that pale complexion that always looks clean and he has dark pink splashes on each cheek that guys with his pale complexion often have. A nice looking clean-shaven guy.
He's chewing with a bit of a friendly smile on his face and although I don't care for the silence I can't think of anything to say. Finally he asks, "Who cooks for you guys, if you don't mind me asking. I do all the cooking for Wayne and me." Nodding, I say, "Yeah, I do too, for Rob and me." He asks, "Is Rob your boyfriend?" What the hell? I shrug and go, "Well yeah, but how'd you know that?" He says, "I'm not sure why I suspected that. Have you been together long?" I nod, "Uh huh, we've been boyfriends for almost four years now." He's not taken aback by that at all, mumbling, "I'm jealous."
To hurry past that topic, I ask. "Did you go to school in Indiana with your roommate, Dwayne?" He says, "It's Wayne and Pennsylvania not Indiana, but nooooo we didn't go to school together. Wayne's thirty-eight years old."
Holy shit! I'm frowning at that so Dennis chuckles, "Yeah, it's strange to be roommates with someone that much older than me I guess, but it's an unusual situation," and he uses his fingers to swipe the hair off his forehead again."
Okay, I'll eat this sandwich as quickly as possible and get the fuck back to the apartment and hide under the bed until it's time to pick Rob up. I'm getting freaked-out this afternoon. Dennis rubs his hand up the back of his head asking, "Do you think this is a weird haircut? It's really long in front and unevenly short all over the rest of my head. Wayne likes me to comb a big pompadour in front." Avoiding answering that question directly, I go, "Um, where'd you get that haircut anyway?" He says, "Wayne cuts my hair." I nod and add, "Yeah well, like you said, it is little bit weird, yeah."
He blushes, "I don't want to embarrass Wayne so I don't say anything about it. I know he tries his best." Jesus! I've got nothing to say to that so I finish the first half of the cheesesteak without talking. He's looking at me and when our eyes meet he averts his eyes immediately. That was awkward, so to say something, I ask, "So, do you give him haircuts as well as doing all the cooking?" He chuckles, then goes, "Noooo." He does those long 'nooooo's'. I shrug like, 'what?' and he goes, "Wayne has a ponytail of prematurely gray hair down to the back of his waist and a black beard down to his chest. Nobody cuts Wayne's hair." I go, "Oh wow, ha ha, that's pretty freaky." He nods his head and I go, "And, you know what, Dennis? I'm sorry but I don't believe you. I think you're pulling my chain with all this crazy shit." He earnestly says, "I don't blame you, Dylan, but look..." and he takes his wallet out and shows me a picture of him wearing only jockey shorts and looking small next to a big hairy guy wearing a motorcycle jacket with nothing on under it. Thank God he's wearing pants. He has his arm around the back of Dennis' neck and Dennis has his innocent big smile going for him in the picture. Luckily for me I can't see the gray ponytail down Wayne's back or I might hurl some cheesesteak on Dennis' Italian sub. It's weird but somehow the picture doesn't have a sexual vibe. More like father and son.
I go, "He has gray hair and a black beard? That's extremely unusual."
Dennis goes, "Yep that's the complete opposite of how it should be. Well actually it should be all black hair like it is all over the rest of him... and he's a hairy dude! Ha ha! Yeah, but somehow the hair on his head turned gray when he was in his early twenties." I go, "Normally I'd say it's better turning gray than falling out, but in this case... holy shit." He laughs, "Yeah, it's disgusting-looking alright and so is Wayne when ya get right down to it." Hearing that I choke on some cheesesteak, half wanting to laugh and
half wanting to throw-up. To Denis' comment, I mutter, "Oh, I didn't notice." He laughs again, "Ya can't help but fucking notice, look..." and he holds the picture up again. I'm pushing his hand away, saying, "I'm fucking eating here." He laughs, "Oh man, I've gotta eat meals with that dude every day." To double check, I go, "Wayne's not your father, right?" He shakes his
head, "No, although I guess he sort of is." Whatever the fuck that means.
Wait a second here... Dennis never said they were a gay couple and he never said he was gay. I'm assuming something that is probably way off base.
Trying to collect myself here, I ask, "So, how'd you and Wayne hook-up, Dennis?" He goes, "He's a sugar daddy who picked me up in a gay bar when I was nineteen." Oh man! So I was right, they're gay. Dennis says, "Yeah, Wayne's rich. He got rich with a dot-com company just before the bubble burst and the market crashed. When he's ready we'll go to say, Brazil, or the Andes, or just to the Gulf of Mexico. He says one of these days we'll just take the fuck off. That's what he says anyway." I don't know what to think. I ask, "What's he waiting for?" Dennis makes a face like, 'who knows?' then says, "Wayne's basically a hermit or recluse, or I don't know what to call him exactly. Except for me he keeps to himself and does whatever he feels like doing. Legally I mean. He doesn't drink but he smokes lots of grass. Oh, I guess that is illegal."
I finish my cheesesteak before Dennis' finished his sub because he did most of the talking. I go, "Well, Dennis, I wish you good luck in your unusual life, and I gotta tell you that haircut of yours sucks." He grins, "Your's ain't so good either!" I have to chuckle at that, "Ya got me there, Dennis." He leans over and whispers, "Do you wanna fuck in the back of my box truck?" That's so ludicrous and unexpected I laugh out loud and pat his big shoulder, "Not today, Dennis. Ha ha, you're really something though." He whispers, "Please! I'm clean and I always use condoms and desperately want to do it with someone attractive for once. I'd really appreciate it, please,"
and he's got tears in his eyes. He pleads, "I'm not crazy or nuts even though I know it sounds like a crazy life I lead, but there's reasons for that."
Reasons for that, huh? I go, "What reasons?" He says, "I'll tell you, but please don't leave." Why am I hesitating instead of getting the hell out of here? What a crazy day. First the gorilla and now this. I go, "I'm, that is... we just can't screw in the back of your truck among the hot dog rolls." He sincerely informs me, like it matters one way or the other, "Oh, we don't do hot dog rolls. It's an Italian bakery." He said that so seriously... oh man! We walk out together with him leaving half his sub uneaten. He says, "Please, Dylan. My life is goofy, I know, but I'm not goofy." I ask, "How many guys have you made this same pitch to?" He says, "None. I swear to God and I don't know how I even worked up the balls to ask if I could sit with you, never mind ask about sex."
I'm at Rob's pickup that's parked in the parking lot while Dennis' truck is parked in front of the pizza shop. I ask, "Why'd you choose me to ask?"
He looks startled, "Um, well you're obviously aware how sexy and attractive you are, right?" I'm shaking my head thinking about John Smith. Without the kooky sugar daddy, John came on to me with almost the same reasoning.
Because I'm good looking and sexy it's okay to ask me to have sex with them, total strangers. Without touching me, Dennis says, "Please, can we get a beer some place and I'll explain my situation. I shouldn't have told you about Wayne but I didn't think ahead very far."
He's certainly good looking and either really sincere or a great actor wasting his talents driving a truck. I ask, "How'd you lose the tooth?" His finger goes to his lip, "Oh, a guy at work dropped a box accidentally and cracked my tooth. I'm getting an implant next Tuesday. Have you ever had one of those? The thought of it scares the shit out of me. Drilling into my jaw to screw a tooth in. Ya know?" I go, "No, I've never had one but it does sound gruesome. Look, I'll have a beer with you but no promises, okay? We'll have a beer and get to know each other and maybe next time we have a beer, um, you'll have a new tooth." He laughs, saying, "I thought you were going to say maybe the next time we could do some sex together." I go, "I knew that's what you'd think. It's called, trying to be funny." He says, "Oh, I'll be on the alert for that next time." A tad exasperated, I'm like, "Yeah, do you know Rolf's Bar?" He nods, "Sure a'course. I'll meet you there and thanks, Dylan," and he seems to mean it.
In the pickup, I wonder why am I doing this? I think it's because Dennis has a sincere quality about him that appeals to me. And he pleaded, so ya know, it's flattering... A nice looking guy whose maybe four-inches taller than me and bigger. Am I thinking he's as big as Peter and I want to erase the memory of a random nasty big guy with this big nice guy? And anyway, my side-sex has been pitifully inadequate lately and especially compared to my early side-sex heydays. Plus, maybe I can get Dennis to run Peter over with that big box truck of his.
Yeah, having side-sex with John Smith helped me partially get the nasty taste of the gorilla out of my mind and maybe Dennis can further that along.
Running into Peter today brought to mind the unpleasantness of our experience like pulling a scab off a sore. If not for that I probably wouldn't do this with Dennis. The thing is, basically I want to convince myself that Peter's the anomaly; the one bad apple in the barrel. I don't want that unfortunate experience to spoil random side-sex for me. Almost every side-sex buddy I've had in my life has been a regular guy for the most part. I made the mistake with Peter of not paying attention to the warning signs and I don't intend making that mistake again. I'll see what Dennis has to say but at the first sign of anything that doesn't feel right I'm outta there.
Dennis somehow gets to Rolf's Bar before me. Standing next to the driver's door he waves at me and shows his very nice smile. I get out and we go inside the bar where again the bartender recognizes me and only cards Dennis.
We order two drafts with Dennis saying, "He must know you or he'd have carded you too." I nod, "Yeah, I always get carded every place else. It's funny I don't get carded here because I've only been in here a few times since last September." He says, "Well nobody is gonna forget your face, Dylan." I go, "Compliments are very effective with me usually, but not if they're overdone." He mumbles, "I'll keep that in mind."
We sip our beers then he says, "I need to explain myself but I don't want it to sound like a sob story because I don't think of it as that. I grew-up in Pennsylvania an only child with parents who have never been what you'd call progressive thinkers. They despised the fact I claimed to be gay.
Reluctantly, as long as I went to weekly psychiatrist sessions to turn me into a sexually straight individual, my parents let me live with them until I graduated high school. When I still claimed to be gay they gave me the alternative of being straight or being gone." I'm shaking my head hardly believing parents would treat their child like that. Then I remember Seth. His story is even worse because his parents didn't let him finish high school before throwing him out. Instead of making pepper-spray illegal perhaps they should make it illegal to abandon your children.
Dennis tells me that even though Wayne picked him up in a gay bar he doesn't think Wayne is especially gay. He mostly treats Dennis as a son with maybe more affection than most father show a twenty-one-year-old son. Dennis says, "Wayne's as nice a man as you'd ever want to meet although he's extremely introverted." I mumble, "And he makes grotesque grooming choices."
Dennis laughs. Nice laugh, then he goes, "Bad grooming choices for certain, but actually Wayne is fanatical about cleanliness. He showers for over an hour every day. Showering and washing all that disgusting hair." People can be very odd! Dennis says, "He really is like a hairy friendly quiet bear." I go, "I know where you can get pepper spray for bears." He looks at me funny and goes, "Pepper spray?" I go, "It's another story altogether, Dennis, for some other time."
As we finish our beers, I ask, "Is this Wayne person gonna be pissed when you have the money you need for college?" He shrugs, "Nah, it's his idea in the first place. He puts a few- thousand-dollars a month from the annuity checks he gets every month in a savings account for me. When there's enough, I'm off to college. Wayne says he expects he won't see much of me after I go away to school." I'm like, "Yeah, that's like most parents I guess. The thing is he's being a prick by not just giving you whatever you need for college now. Why do a couple of thousand a month?" He says, "So we'll bond as an odd family I guess. That's how he explains it. Anyway, when he sold his dot-com company the bulk of the money went into a an annuity paying X-amount every month for life. It's quite a large amount though, so he could probably send me off to college now I suppose. I'm not going to complain though because he's all I've got." Curious if Dennis can even get in a college, I'm like, "Um, have you taken SAT's?" He goes, "No, but I was a straight 'A' student through high school." No shit? He doesn't come across as a brainiac.
Wow, just when you think you've heard it all! I ask, "So, um, how much sex do you two do?" He shrugs, "Very little. Almost none actually. Only when I get out-of-my-mind-horny like I am now will he fuck me and always with a condom. It's like mercy sex. Like I said, I don't even think he's gay." I shudder thinking about that waist-long gray pony tail swinging around as he fucks. Dennis goes, "We don't ever talk about it but I think he was looking for a run-away or homeless gay guy to share his odd life with." This just gets weirder and weirder. I mumble, "So you're saying the guy's not a monster." He chuckles, "Nope, more like an eccentric millionaire who wants to pay-forward his monetary good fortune... and be left alone. He doesn't give a fuck what anyone thinks about him, except me. I'm not spoiled though, which is why I'm working. That's one of the things Wayne insist on." I think I've heard enough about Wayne to last me two lifetimes so I don't ask any more questions.
Instead Dennis asks me questions about Rob's and my relationship. I show him a picture of Rob and me and tell him basic facts about our relationship including the part about us having a partially open one. Dennis dreamily says, "Someday that's going to be me with some guy who doesn't even need to be handsome or cute like you two. He'll just be nice and considerate and with some love for me, but I'd hope for a monogamist relationship." Cue the violins, but Dennis is a sweet guy who has led a strange life... so far.
We order a second beer and I'm like, "Not to pry into your life too much but do you get out much or are you pretty much keeping your, um, roommate company?" He says, "He encourages me to go out but we rarely go out together.
Once in a blue moon we'll have dinner out together. Mostly I'll pick-up a guy at a gay bar to have sex with. Someone who is nice and not too old, but that's only happened like three for four times. Then occasionally, like every two months, I'll book a date online with a youngish guy although usually it turns into an uncomfortable scene for me. You'd be my first sort-of-friend to have sex with. And, um, I know we're not friends per se, but sort of... don't ya think?" I go, "Sure. You always, always use condoms though, right?" He nods, "Swear to God, yeah! Don't you?" Skirting that question I ask, "Do you have a condom on you right now?" Oh my God, he blushes a dark pink, saying, "Well, no, but I'll buy some at that CVS. It's only two blocks from here. I wasn't expecting to meet anyone like you today, um... or it's more like I never expected to meet someone like you ever. I hope that's not overdoing it."
I decided I'm going to do it with him probably during the first beer.
Dennis is unassuming and likable and, unless he has a split personality, he appears harmless. I'm like, "Well, Dennis, go ahead and buy those condoms and we'll see if we can do this." He sort of scrunches his face for a second, then mumbles, "Thank you," and we get up and leave. Outside he asks, "Do you want to ride with me to the CVS?" I go, "No, I'll follow you," and that's what we do. He's only in the CVS three minutes before coming out carrying a
little bag. He drives his truck up next to where I'm parked and signals for me to put the window down. I do that and he says, "Behind Stop and Shop there's a safe spot." I nod and when he pulls away I follow him feeling funny low in my belly. Having side-sex with a new buddy... I'm kinda excited about it.
I know the spot he's referring to. Rob and I used that behind the Stop and Shop building spot a couple of times freshman year. It's a short drive and
I'm wondering if Dennis expects to 'top'. He said Wayne occasionally fucks
him. That sounds like Wayne 'tops' but it's unclear if Dennis' bar pick-ups and online prostitute are 'topping' him or the other way around. There's a loading dock behind Stop & Shop and Dennis backs the box truck almost up to it. We both get out and at the back of the truck there's just enough room for him to open one side of the door. We get in and he closes the door.
There's a one-foot-square-window high on each door that lets in some light.
It smells pleasantly of bread in here.
Dennis hands me the little bag and I look inside to see a three-pack of lubricated condoms. He drops his pants, saying, "I'm sorry, Dylan, but I gotta get this truck turned-in at the Lawrence location by four o'clock. Um, so we'll need to be kinda quick. Hope you don't mind." I shrug staring at his penis. It's the fattest one I've ever seen and almost as long as mine.
Fatter even than Rob's and almost two- inches longer. He quietly asks, "Is anything wrong?" I snap out of it and go, "Oh, no. Um, are you...?" He goes, "I'll 'do' you if it's okay with you, or..." I shake my head, "No, that's fine," and I pull my pants down and then pull my winter jacket and sweatshirt halfway up my back.
He's stroking his cock with a shy grin, murmuring, "I'm wicked excited about this. Look my hand is shaky." I go, "Huh," and he does a nervous giggle, saying, "Hope I don't seem like a kid, but I'll probably cum really fast."
I'm biting my bottom lip looking at his huge cock again, mumbling, 'Uh huh. Don't worry about, um... whatever." He says, "If I can get behind you,"
and we both move a little. Behind me, with a hand lightly on my shoulder, he rubs his cock up my ass crack inhaling noisily as he does it, then, "Would you open a condom for me?" His cock rubs over my asshole with my dick sort of quivering a little. Opening one of the condom packets I'm like, "You'll need to go in slow, Dennis. I'm not used to a cock as big as yours." He says, "Yeah, I know it's pretty big, but it's not as big as Wayne's. I'll be careful with you. Don't worry, Dylan, but like I said it'll be a quick orgasm for me. I wish I had time to do you twice." I'm thinking, don't get ahead of yourself, buddy...
His cock quickly feels hard against my butt cheek as I pass him the packet and he rolls on the condom. I didn't notice if the packet indicated extra-large but it probably did. He mutters, "There, it's on, Dylan. Um, you have a beautiful ass and I liked that you shave your pubic hair too. You're, um, pretty special." I say, "Thanks," and his left hand is on my shoulder again as he guides the head of his boner to my asshole. There some pressure and my anus begins spreading. The lube feels cold but only initially. It warms quickly from the body heat of his hard penis and my buttocks. As his large penis head slides tightly in a fraction of an inch at a time the lube gets squeezed off and runs like liquid inside both sides on my ass cheeks and continues down to the back of my balls. I grunt and Dennis says, "You might want to bend over a little more." I do that and hold onto the inside handle of the door.
I'm guessing half the head is past the lips of my asshole and it's beginning to hurt as I grunt again. He does a hip thrust and I yell out, "Oooh fuck!" Denis rubs my back, quietly saying, "Burns a little, I know. It'll settle down." He said that like he was out of breath and then I hear him gasping for air. He's obviously very aroused. After ten seconds or so he applies more pressure and maybe two inches of shaft slide very tightly up my ass.
I'm holding my breath while picturing in my head that big log-of-a-boner impossibly disappearing inside me. The pain hangs in the air like a fog and only slowly dissipating until it's tolerable and I can exhale. It's worth the pain though because it feels awesome to be opened-up back there like this. Feels really good having a huge cock in my ass again. And maybe the biggest ever. I grin to myself thinking about the last fuck-buddy who fucked me in the back of a vehicle was Timmy and his two-inch cock. That was an SUV not a truck, but their vehicles aren't the most noticeable difference.
Dennis rubs my back again, soothingly saying, "I'm going to get the last three inches in now so hold your breath," and he pushes it up my ass with me blowing air out through clenched teeth going, "Aaaaaah, ooooow!" It feels like something split inside me, like maybe his boner broke through the wall
of my bowel or something. Very painful but for a surprisingly short period of time. Soon I'm feeling totally dominated by his huge organ. It's like I couldn't straighten-up if I wanted to. Dennis isn't acting dominant though, as he's murmuring, "Is it feeling better yet, Dylan. Your asshole looks really stretched." I grunt, "It's feeling better by the second." My ass never lets me down! This rectum of mine is a freak of Nature in the best ways possible. It's chuck full of fabulous nerve ending that are tuned to be way more towards the pleasure spectrum than the one for pain. Some pain with fatter or longer boners but the emphasis, the primary function of nerve endings in my ass anyway, is pleasure. It's just pure luck on my part.
He goes, "Unless you say not to, I'm pulling pack now," and I flick a hand
back at him like, 'go ahead then'. He retracts his boner slowly as millions of nerve ends sizzle with pleasure making me moan, Mmmmm, oooh, yeaaaah." He mutters, "Oh good," and pushes it all the way back up my ass. My shoulders shudder and I moan again, "Ooooh fuck, feels really good, Dennis."
Pulling it back again until the head is almost completely out and then the six-inch thrust right back up my ass until his crotch smacks against my buttocks, "Slap," and I go up on my toes. No more conversation. It's, "Slap slap slap," sounds bouncing off the stale bread. I'm guessing the circumference of his boner is about four-inches now that it's fully boned-up and hard as a billy-club. It moves back and forth in my rectum smoothly but as tightly as anything that's ever been in there. Once he got me opened-up it's a fantastic ride hitting every pleasure spot know to a rectum.
Time has no meaning now. It's an ocean of sexual pleasure that has my back constantly arched and my torso getting lower and lower until my head is two feet off the floor with my hands grasping the door handle. Bent way over like this afford the most pleasure as he's almost driving that huge boner straight down into my ass. With each thrust he pulls my hips up and every time he pulls his huge boner back it feels like my bowels are coming out with his cock. Oooh, the exquisite pleasure! Dennis doesn't moan so much as he breaths heavily and nosily. I, on the other hand, am pretty much one big moan of pleasure. My cock is standing straight out and when my orgasm comes on me it comes on me fast and I shake as cum flies out of my hard cock along with an embarrassing squeal that almost sounded like a girl's squeal. Oh God another long stream of cum flies out as Dennis is humping against me filling the condom with his load.
I'm not sure how long we fucked but it couldn't have been very long. I'm literally trembling from my orgasm as I slowly lift my head. Dennis pulls out right away and it feels so good, like a nerd, I go, "Oooooh!" Looking back I see Dennis' face is bright red and his chest is heaving as he gasps, "I can't even breathe... oooh, that was... ooh... spectacular. I'm sorry it was so fast but I, um... Ah, Jesus. That was fucking wonderful... thank you." I'm nodding my head standing up now but still feeling some vibrations inside my rectum and I guess it'll take a few minutes to settle down in there. Liquefied lubricant has pretty much covered the inside of my butt cheeks and all down underneath. I hear a drip sound and look down to see a wet spot of greasy lubricant between my legs. His cock is so big around the stretched lips of my asshole stripped a lot of the lubricant off the condom as he was thrusting.
Dennis has already taken the condom off and pulled his pants up. He's wiping my cum off the door with paper towels, saying, "Do you think we could do this again some time?" I'm still feeling rippling effects of that great fuck, muttering, "Yeah, sure." Shaky still, I pull up my pants knowing they'll be an immediate lubricant stain on the back. He asks, "What's your cellphone number?" I tell him and he nods but doesn't write it down or log it into his phone. Instead he mumbles, "I'll remember it, but now I'm really sorry but I gotta get this truck back." I'm like, "Sure, sure, no problem,"
and he opens the left side of the door. We get out and he pats my shoulder, "You'll never know how much that meant to me, Dylan. I'll call you when I'm assigned this route again."
He's getting in the cab of the truck. I'm still a little dazed as he waves and drives off. I look at my watch: it's ten of four. Hope he doesn't need to go far. Lawrence is one of the towns next to North Andover. The border is a mile from here but it's a big town so I hope his shop is close.
Getting in the pickup and sitting on the seat it feels like I'm sitting on a life preserver my ass is so wide open. I hug the steering wheel, shuddering again. That was one damn good fucking of my ass right there! Wow, that was good! Driving up route 114 I'm thinking Rob should be calling any minute now.
Usually it's a three-hour practice but maybe this first one needs to be longer. Back at the condo I dump my underwear and jeans in the hamper and wash my ass and between my legs with soap and water. With a finger I gently explore my asshole that's already closed up about halfway, but still feels weird being opened even this wide. Putting on clean jockey shorts and sweatpants I lie on the bed feeling good. What a nice guy Dennis turned out to be and how about the boner on that kid! That was something and I'd definitely like to do it with him again. He has my phone number but I didn't get his.
Yeah, but that works for me because I much prefer being invited. Wouldn't it be something if I went on a stretch where side-sex just happened seemingly on its own like it did with Dennis... and like it did in the early days. I daydream about some of those days gone by and get startled when my cellphone rings. Fumbling it out of my pocket I see the caller ID and go, "Hi, Rob!"
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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