DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 49
by Donny Mumford
Parking near the baseball facility I sit in the pickup with the motor idling and watch many baseball players leaving the facility before I spot Rob.
He has his baseball cap on backward talking with Golden Summers and Danny Monday. A toot of the horn gets their attention and Rob gives a wave as all three of them begin sauntering toward the pickup. Rob opens the passenger door, saying, "Hey, Babe, we've got company for dinner." He pulls the passenger seat forward while telling Golden, "Freshman sit in back of the bus." I bump fists with Golden as he gets in the back seat, saying, "I see Rob hasn't gotten any better at barbering," referring to my latest haircut. He's smiling, just breaking balls like we all do, so I mutter, "Sadly, no."
Fact is I think Golden's kinda put-out I'm not coming to him for haircuts even though he claims he doesn't especially like barbering. While giving me a non-haircut the day before Christmas break he told me he was thinking he'd finally move-on from his ponytail and I got the distinct impression he wanted me to cut it for him. Then right after Christmas break he changed his mind and said he's keeping his ponytail until the start of baseball practice, so I go, "What's the latest ponytail-news now that baseball practice has begun?" He pulls on his curly ponytail muttering, "Dude, I'm still nervous about the change." I'm like, "Then don't fuckin' do it." He goes, "Have you ever had to deal with hair as long as mine?" I nod, "Yes, a couple of times and I'm thinking specifically of this guy, Dawg, who had a much longer ponytail than yours."
Danny slides in the middle of the front seat saying, "Hey, Dylan, 'sup?" I go, "Hi, Danny,' and then to Golden, "We can talk about it at the apartment if you want." Rob gets in the shotgun seat leaning past Danny to bump fists with me, saying, "Danny's buying a case of beer for tonight so if you don't mind let's stop at McGoons package store." I go, "Jesus, Monday's actually treating us to a case of beer? That's a first." Just a little more ball-busting. Danny's like, "Just drive, Newman! I bought the beer for the last card game." Golden says, "Um, no you didn't. We all chipped-in for that case. Can anyone remember the last time Monday voluntarily contributed anything to the dinners or card games?" They bicker back and forth about that as I think about giving Golden a haircut. All that curly light-brown hair, Jesus! I can picture the curls falling away from his head, each hair falling victims to my second-hand professional barber clippers. Sweet! Rob pounds his fist in his baseball glove, exclaiming, "What a great first day of practice, huh? We've got a good team this year!" The three baseball players talk about that as I drive us to the package store. When Rob and Danny go in for the case of beer Golden asks me, "What haircut did you give this Dawg guy?" I go, "He went all the way down to a buzz cut." Golden goes, "No shit? I've been thinking maybe I'd go all the way too. From one extreme to the other. Or maybe I'll go with that haircut you gave your brother before the break. I kinda thought that was a good compromise haircut." I go, "Um, yeah sure." That would be the same haircut I gave Rob after that Hispanic prick of a phony-barber fucked-up his hair. It's a short haircut but still long enough to comb down and flip up the hairs in front.
To make sure we're on the same page I describe the haircut I think he means and Golden nods, "Yeah, that's the one. Are you up for doing that?" He's only nineteen-years-old so that's a good style for him. I shrug, "Sure, um, you mean tonight?" He nods, "Yeah, it's the first day of practice. I'm not punking-out again." I go, "Okay but you'll probably freak-out the guys at the next practice. That's if they even recognize you." He mutters, "Fuck the guys. There's this girl I met a couple weeks ago at the Quad. She's a sophomore but we hit it off and, whoa... what a great ass on that girl!" I mutter, "You're an ass-man, huh?" He says, "It's not just her ass. We've been flirting with each other and she's dared me to lose the ponytail. We have this bet that if I cut it she'll..." I interrupt, "No heterosexual details please!" He laughs, "Yeah, you homos don't know what you're missing." I'm like, "So I've been told. But seriously, your hair is so curly it might be a
problem if it's real short." He says, "Nah, no worries. It only curls when
it gets long." I mutter, "Well, okay then. Let's do it."
Danny and Rob come out of the package store with a case of beer, chortling about something. Danny drops the beer in the pickup's cargo bed and they get in as Danny's saying, "That asshole counter guy wouldn't sell us the beer unless we both showed ID." I get the truck in gear and back-out of the parking spot, asking, "What were you laughing about coming out of the store?"
Danny says, "When Rob showed the guy his license he told the him he's been buying booze there for three years and this is the first time he's shown real ID. The guy got all snotty with us." Golden asks, "What'd he say?" Rob goes, "He said I was full of shit and then insisted on seeing another form of ID. While I'm showing him my college ID Danny's doing that middle school shit of coughing while saying, 'douche-bag' as if the guy wouldn't notice." The rest of the drive we all have a story about getting carded, which we naturally embellish for laughs.
Inside the condo Danny carries the case of Rolling Rock bottles to the kitchen, complaining, "I not only need to pay for the fucking beer I gotta carry it." No one pays any attention to that as we all grab a bottle and then he and Rob transfer the rest of the bottles into the refrigerator. I call Chub to invite him to dinner and of course John Beverly needs to tag along too. When they get here we try deciding what to have for dinner. Everyone has a different idea until I tell them, "Listen! We have everything we need for a spaghetti and meatballs dinner. If you want something else, you'll need to go out and buy it first. They all go, "In that case... spaghetti and meatballs it is." I'm like, "Okay, I'll do the tomato sauce. Chub you wanna organized the rest?" He goes, "Yeah, I'll do the meatballs, John you do the salad, Rob can turn that loaf of Italian bread into garlic bread and heat it up in the oven. Golden, you're in-charge of a big-ass pot of water for the spaghetti and a strainer for when it's cooked, but nobody do anything until I get all the ingredients organized or we'll be stepping on each other." John mutters, "Yes, sergeant."
It's not a very big kitchen so Chubby's right, but with best intentions out-the-window all six of us are bumping into each other for a couple of minutes getting started. Once the four non-cooks finish their simple assignments everything calms down and it's just Chubby and me in the kitchen. The other four guys drink beer and shoot the shit while watching us doing the cooking. They offer suggestions which we ignore. Chubby's combining ground beef and ground pork using his impeccably clean hands while I shred carrots, celery and lots of onion in a sauce pan to simmer in olive oil. Those three ingredients are what's known as a French mirepoix . The vegetables are usually minced but I use a shredder so they'll cook faster and mostly dissolve while simmering with tomatoes and spices. When the vegetables are translucent I add two cans of crushed plum tomatoes, two bay leaves that will be removed before serving, thyme, tomato paste, a couple of tablespoons of sugar, some oregano, Italian seasoning, a half cup of grated Parmesan cheese, some crushed red pepper flakes, a cup of water, and lastly salt and pepper.
Everything should blend together while simmering for at least an hour...
stirring whenever you think of it. I don't measure the ingredients but eyeball the amounts of each from experience; a little of this and maybe a little more of that.
Chubby's meatballs are always good. To the combined ground pork and beef, he mixes beef broth, eggs, crushed garlic, grated Parmigiana cheese, bread crumbs that he soaked in milk and then squeezed out the excess milk...
bread and eggs are the binder for the meatballs. Also some minced parsley, minced onion, and lastly salt and pepper. He doesn't measure the ingredients either but just goes by what's worked over the years. Also using his impeccably clean hands he mixes everything very well and then rolls the mixture into balls. The golf-ball-size meatballs are browned in olive oil. When browned all around the meatballs are transfers to a flat baking pan and go into a preheated 350-degree oven for fifteen minutes or so before being put in the big sauce pan. The meatballs add more flavor to the spaghetti sauce, or gravy as the Italians call it. He and I finish about the same time.
Chubby and I bring our bottles of beer out on the balcony with Rob, Danny Monday, and John Beverly for a smoke. That leaves only Golden in the apartment. He's the only smart one in the group as a non-smoker. Golden's watching Comcast Sports Tonight on TV as John tells us what he put in the salad and I'm like, "No cucumber?" He goes, "I hate cucumber. The seeds are bitter," and we argue about that a little bit. Danny bums a cigarette off Rob and they chuckle about something so I glance over and notice their identical-assembly-line haircuts, compliments of Golden. Scalped around the sides and back with a mop of hair on top. Looks goofy as hell to me although it's gaining in popularity by the minute. One night I was watching that competition cooking show, 'Chopped' on the Food Network and three young chefs all had that same stupid-ass haircut. For some reason that pisses me off just like it pisses me off that almost every man I see on sports talk shows now have that five-day beard look. Sure it looks good on some young men but these aren't young men. Humans are like zombies stupidly following the leader like dimwitted lemmings. Who the fuck starts these hideous fads anyway? If I could just get my hands around his throat....
Done with my cigarette I flick the butt off Danny's ass accidentally-on-purpose and then watch it somehow bounces off the railing and drops below to the parking lot. Going in the sliding glass door I ask Golden, "You ready to lose that dumb ponytail?" He nods, mumbling, "Yeah, but this is a big deal to me so I'm a little shaky." I go, "Don't be a baby, it's just a fuckin' haircut..." Of course, my heart's thumping at the prospect of cutting most of his hair off. I go, "Let's do it in the bedroom. I don't like an audience." He gets up saying, "I don't either but I have one every Saturday I'm doing haircuts."
In the bedroom, I close the door and get an old sheet out of the linen closet and drop it on the floor. The desk chair goes in the middle of the sheet so the cut hairs will drop on the sheet and afterward I'll bunch it up and dump the contents over the balcony and let the winds spread Golden's hair throughout the apartment complex. Sort of like ashes after a cremation. I get the barber cape a guy gave me, and drop it over Golden. I forget the name of the guy who donated this cape but I remember his friend's name. It's Sam Styles. I remember the name because of hair-styles. Both of those guys lied when they claimed to be friends of Steve Church, Ryan's old roommate, but it's worked-out okay. Speaking of Steve, he should need a haircut by now even though Ryan butchered his hair before Christmas break. I should be hearing from him shortly and I hope I do because I'd like to know if he's heard anything from Ryan.
Golden asks, "How you gonna do this, Dylan?" I mumble, "Well I'm not gonna fuck around with it, Golden. I'll use the clippers with a half-inch guide halfway up the sides and back and then use the clippers-over-comb to blend hair-lengths on top which will be about an inch-and-a-half when I'm finished. Sound okay to you?" He nods, "Yeah, but no shorter than that, okay?" I go, "Yeah, yeah, don't fucking worry! You're in good hands." He mutters, "Oh, I'm not nervous much. My balls have shrunk to the size of marbles and I feel faint, but I'm good."
First I cut the elastic that's holding his ponytail together. Turning on the clippers, I mutter, "Hope I remember how to do this," and he blurts out a laugh, mumbling, "What a prick." I do his haircut just like I said I would; the clippers easily cut through his hair; some hairs are ten or eleven-inches long. All of the hairs are cut down to a half-inch halfway up the sides and back of his head. The long hair above the first cut is combed up and the clippers run across the comb with piles of long curly hair tumbling off the blades onto the back of my hand and then most of it slides down the cape to accumulate in his lap. It doesn't give me the rush I expected because the sheer volume of cut hairs numbs my senses; it's like overkill.
Neither of us talks during the haircut. The constant buzz of the clippers becomes hypnotic to me after a while. Golden is a nice looking nineteen-year-old-freshman but strangely I'm not sexually attracted to him at all.
Maybe because he acts mature for his age and looks older than me. Actually, the only real negative in his appearance is his butt-chin that's officially called a cleft-chin and is supposedly sexy to women. The sexiness of that alludes me. Yeah, but it's not as bad as a butt-nose I've seen on some guys.
The point of their nose looks like as ass with an ass-crack in the middle.
Poor bastards! I think Golden looks best when he doesn't shave for a few days and his short beard hides the butt crack in his chin. Other than that, like I just fucking said, he's nice-looking and I'm pretty sure female types think he's cute. Good for them, and him.
Contrary to what Golden told me, his hair is still wavy even when it's only an-inch-and-a-half-long on top of his head. The thing is though short wavy hair with this style haircut looks even better than it does with straight hair like Rob's. I didn't know that until now. It's especially true for the flipped-up bangs. Anyway, I'm very pleased with the way it looks. The haircut takes longer than most. It goes on for like twenty-minutes because I'm being meticulous with every detail. When I take the cape off him, Golden asks, "How do you think it looks, Dylan?" I shrug, "It's perfect if you ask me. Ten times better than that ass of a ponytail." And it is too.
Previously Golden's entire style-statement was all the hair on his head is pulled back flat and tied in the back.
He stands up and looks at himself in the bureau mirror trying not to smile. I know he wants to say it looks like shit to break my balls, but he can't because his hair looks really good and he knows it. Instead of jokingly breaking my balls, he goes, "Holy shit! It looks awesome, and damn if I don't look a couple years younger! Don'cha think?" I go, "Yeah, actually you do. Now you look about twenty-four." He chuckles as I add, "You might have more trouble getting served with that fake ID now because the picture on it is you and your ponytail." He shrugs again, "Yeah, but no sweat. I'll get my bud, Hawk, back home to do a new ID for me with a selfie I'll send him." I ask, "Back home is Indiana, right?" He nods, "Yeah, Crown Point.
Hicksville, I guess you'd call it." I'm like, "Who's Hawk?" Golden pats the hair on top of his head, mumbling, "Oh, he's like a genius with fake ID. He sells it on the Internet." That would have been good to know in past years, but now I don't need fake ID.
Golden gets serious for a brief moment and thanks me for not fucking-up his hair, 'too badly'. That'll have to do for a compliment I guess. Instead of dumping all Golden's cut hair over the balcony we both get big fistful of it and dump it in the wastebasket next to the desk. All the wastebaskets in the apartment are lined with plastic bags for easy disposal. When there's only scattered hairs left on the sheet I bunch it up as planned and we join everyone in the living room. Cat-calls and random insults are directed at Golden's haircut initially, but then everyone acknowledges the obvious, which is he looks really cool with his new haircut. I shake the sheet over the railing off the balcony getting most of the cut hairs blowing in the wind and then stick the sheet in the hamper.
By the time dinner is served most of us are on our third beer. No one gets drunk from three beers though, well except maybe Pony but he's not here tonight. Three beers gets us in a relaxed mood so everyone here tonight is feeling fine. We all had a part in preparing the dinner so there's compliments all around and it is very good if I do say so myself. Everyone more or less helps clean-up the kitchen and then we finish off Danny's case of beer while watching some of the Thursday Night Football; the Jets/Dolphin game on TV. During the game, there are text messages coming in so we all have our cellphones out. How the fuck did people stay in touch prior to cellphones? It seems inconceivable. Rob talks quietly on his cellphone for five minutes or so with someone named Greg. I know that because I'm straining to eavesdrop and I hear him say the name a few times. Danny heard it too and I glance at him as he's frowning in Rob's direction. The TV announcers for the game are loud and other guys are talking so I guess Rob doesn't think we can hear what he's saying. Well, we can't actually, just a word here or there.
I suppose both Danny and me are a tad, um, jealous. I don't have a right to be pissed-off, I know that, but I can't help being a little bit jealous of a guy I don't even know. Rob's obviously talking with Greg Peters and while I now know the name, I've never met him.
Except for Rob's annoying cellphone call the entire evening has been a damn good college night for me with the guys. I think hanging with the guys is
an awesome way to spend some time. In tonight's group there are three straight and three gay guys and we get along seamlessly. If I didn't know it already I couldn't have picked-out the other two gay guys in this group and I think that's much more representative of gay males my age than most people
realize. The exception being rare occasions when I've been in a gay bar.
In there straight-acting gays are outnumbered by the free-spirited gays who feel free to be gay, which is only right. I admire them but can only be who I am, just as they can only be who they are. John Smith's gay friends in Worcester come to mind. Almost anyone would know they're gay but I enjoyed being with them even though there weren't many gay stereotypical affectations they didn't put on full display that night. I did get the sense though that the free-spirited gays considered John and I second-class gays because we're straight-acting. A stigma I guess, but why fake being someone we're not? I wonder if Greg Peters is a straight-acting gay guy? Actually I hope he's overweight with a receding hairline.
When our dinner guests leave, Rob makes me forget all about Greg Peters.
We have the kind of aggressive sex Rob knows I like best, and the second time we do it is even better than the first. His fat hard boner gives me a fleeting thought of Dennis' boner even though Rob's isn't as big around or as long. No matter a guy's cock-size there isn't any one who can get-me-off better than Rob and it's because he knows exactly what I like. Mostly though I get-off best with Rob because I feel such deep love for him and from him.
With Rob, I can sense his priority is giving me the best pleasure he can while his own pleasure is secondary. How I know this I can't explain, it's just something I feel even when it's rough, hard, and fast sex. Especially when it's rough, hard, and fast I should say. Slow lover's sex is awesome too but that almost always end rough, hard, and fast when our climaxes begin and crash the party. Then it's a wild glorious dash to the finish line.
Sexually satisfied, Rob and I get a really good night's sleep. Friday morning however I'm feeling randy again so I roll over and use my thumb and forefinger to pry open Rob's left eye. He looks at me for a second as a grin forms on his lips. We mess around in bed until we've got hard boners and then just before I can carry out my plan of fucking him, Rob gets me turned-over on my stomach and fucks my ass hard. It's awesome! I have to smile afterward because he beat me to it by ten seconds. I was too deeply into our foreplay to take the upper-hand this time. Next time though...
We don't have a class on Fridays so after our sex I'm lying here trying to think how to describe how wonderful I feel after having sex with Rob and realize it's one more thing I can't put into words. It's something though.... I stare at Rob and get this wonderful loving feeling knowing he'll always be there for me. Reminding myself again not to overdo it I nestle against him and, like always, his arm automatically comes over me and I feel taken care of and loved... what a perfect way to fall back to sleep.
We take a shower together around eleven o'clock feeling well rested and without a hint of a hangover, so what could be better. I've still got that loving feeling for Rob and want to prove it to him so I grin at my boyfriend and drop to my knees. With water pouring down on me I suck his cock until he groans and shuffles his feet, then cums in my mouth. Rob backs up against the shower stall wall shuddering and gasping as I look up at him. Hmmm, am I trying to prove to Rob how much better I am than that ass-wipe Greg Peters? Is that why I just sucked him off? Well, I've got a boner too of course. I always get one sucking Rob's cock. He's smiling and pulling me up onto my feet and then he goes down and returns the favor. Wow! Oral sex when done with the right guy is a fantastic trip. After my orgasm, I'm the one gasping for air as Rob's standing and putting his tongue inside my mouth and I taste my own cum. Huh, really tasty although another on a long list of things I can't put into words. I simply can't describe it.
Drying off after our shower, Rob says, "The last twelve-hours have been about as awesome a twelve-hour period I can ever remember." Pulling on underpants, I'm like, "Do you think, say five years from now we'll be doing sex as much as we do it now?" He goes, "I'd like to say a definitive 'yes' but I just don't know. I sure hope so." I almost ask about our side-sex five years from now but I'm not sure how I feel about it myself. I know one thing though... being totally monogamist in our senior year doesn't seem a realistic possibility. I say that after admitting our sex couldn't possibly be any better or hotter than it's been lately. Habits though, like doing side-sex, are normally hard to break and I don't mean just for me but for everyone including Rob. Maybe I should be glad there's a Greg Peters out there...
and Danny too for that matter.
It's noon by the time we're dressed and out of the bedroom. After a cold glass of orange juice both of us are sipping on cups of coffee as I scramble six eggs while Rob microwaves eight slices of bacon. We both butter a couple slices of toast and have breakfast instead of lunch. After that we're on the balcony smoking. Rob says, "The snow has finally melted, babe. I thought it never would but, except the snow-plow-piles at the end of the parking lots, I think we've seen the last of the snow until next winter. What's the temperature gonna be today?" I go, "I'll check my cellphone," then say, "High of forty-eight today." He mumbles, "It's getting there," and I go, "Tonight's below freezing again." He grins, "You had to insert some reality, huh?" and he hugs me. Damn, his body feels good. He's sexy hot! I know his interest in the temperature is baseball related. He can't wait to play some
nice-weather baseball.
We do some house cleaning and then the laundry. When we're done those housekeeping requirements it's time for Rob's baseball practice. I'm like, "I'm gonna go with you and watch you guys practice for a while." Rob nods, "Sure, the best place for doing that are the bleachers near the batting cage."
He gets his glove and we put on coats to head outside. Rob drives us on campus and parks where I usually park when picking him up after practice.
Outside the facility he bumps fist and exchanges greeting with some teammates who I don't know. No sense doing introductions since I won't remember their names a minute later anyway.
I go inside with them and as the players go down a flight of stairs to the locker room I saunter into the facility looking around and then go up a couple of bleacher rows to sit away from a group of girls. They're probably girlfriends of some of the players. Early arriving ballplayer are already playing catch. The hard ball slapping into gloves makes a cool, 'Thwok!' sound. That and the bantering between players is pleasant background music if you like baseball like I do. There are ten or twelve guys in the stands as well as the girlfriends. The guys are probably friends of players but most likely not friends the way I am with Rob.
By three o'clock there are fifty ballplayers trying-out for the thirty-five man roster. The players and coaches are all on the playing surface doing something. In actuality, of the fifty guys here there are probably thirty who know they've made the team already. The other twenty are competing for five open spots on the roster. For something to do I evaluate the players 'looks'. They all have baseball caps covering most of their hairdos so I'm without an important part of the equations as to who is cute and who is not.
Considering faces and body types, after close perusal over a thirty-minute period, I can only come up with six and possibly a borderline seventh guy out of fifty that I consider cute and/or good-looking. The thing is Rob, Danny, and Golden are three of the seven which means only three or four other guys out of forty-seven are above average-looking in my opinion. Yeah but that's about right for any random group of fifty young guys. I came up with the same percentage looking at hundreds of young guys on the boardwalk over the years. Actually, to be brutally honest about it, only Robby really qualifies as one-hundred-percent cutely handsome. It's entirely subjective obviously and another gay guy might choose a totally different six or seven guys as cute or good looking.
Then I remember last fall's baseball practice and look around quickly at the people in the bleachers half expected to see Frankie and Beth. Huh, they're not here because their interest in baseball was another fraudulent part
of the 'bet' they had about Frankie getting Rob to have sex with her.
Those two turned-out to be a couple of bitches! Hmmm, Rob's now on the far side of the field taking grounders and this is getting boring! I leave the building and walk over to the Quad. Maybe they'll be some guys there to shoot the shit with. As usual the Quad is full of students who, like me, have nothing better to do.
Getting a Coke from the vending machine I saunter around nodding at guys I recognize from this semester's classes; guys I don't really know but who give me a nod. Then I see a couple of guys from freshman year who Rob and I have mostly drifted away from the last two years. Finally I'm like, fuck it, and walk back the way I came. Finishing my soda, I drop the empty Coke can in the recycle bin and go back outside. As I've been doing lately, I scan the area for any gorilla sightings before going down the steps. It's four-thirty so my latest side-sex buddy, Dennis, is already done work for the day so unfortunately he won't be texting me.
I missed my chance to see John Smith at the bar Wednesday when Danny needed Rob's help with something. I could have met John then but I was kinda wondering what it was Danny needed help with and didn't think to take the opportunity to borrow the pickup and meet with John at the bar. I could have texted Chubby and found out where the Jeep was too. Dammit! Why'd I pass up that opportunity? Ever since our overnight trip to Worcester John has been acting more assertive during sex the times I have managed to meet him for lunch. He's getting more comfortable being bossy although he still has a tendency to ruin it by asking if I think he's doing okay. When he asks that it kinda ruins my submissive mood. Coaching him to be more dominant sort of takes the shine off it. He wants to please, which is a good thing, and hell, I like him but it'd be great if he would just carry through one sex act without asking for an okay from me. Ha ha, we had it going pretty good when we
were smashed at the Christmas party. That was some damn good sex.
Hmm, Pony's done his Friday classes, so maybe... and then just like magic my cellphone beeps and it's from him: 'Dylan, my roommate will be away for the weekend! Get over here immediately.' Heh heh, that pony boy can always be counted on. I'm liking the idea of doing some 'topping' since I missed my chance to do that with Rob this morning. He beat me to it by seconds. Not
that I didn't enjoy getting fucked hard by him 'cause I certainly did! At times Rob can put me in a mild trance too, like he did after that first haircut. Jeez, that was hot although not yet as hot as it sometimes was after one of Ryan's haircuts. And I haven't heard a peep out of that liar since he left for Georgia.
I text Pony, 'What the fuck? Do you think I'm at your beck and call? I've got a life, ya know.' He texts back, 'My sincerest apologies. Please stop over if you get the chance. I've got a ping pong paddle you can use on my ass." Ha ha, I text, 'Well, since you put it that way I'll be over presently.' I'm a five-minute walk from his dorm but if I jog I'll be there in two minutes and take him by surprise. Hmmm, I wonder where his roommate's going for the weekend? It's funny that after all the sex Rob and I had between last night and this morning I'm still eager to fuck Pony. It's the variety I suppose, but also I love me some Daryl Ponti. Yeah, I love this kid, but obviously not romantically or anything like that. It's buddy sex and he's become a good friend too. Pony and I banter back and forth and argue a lot but I feel his affection for me at the same time. Sure, he's kinda immature for a twenty-year-old but that's refreshing to me, especially since I'm always wondering if I'm immature. By the way, my conclusion on the immature topic is that sometimes I am, and sometimes I'm not.
Two knocks on his dorm room door and Tom Higgins opens it. I'm like, "Tom! Um, 'sup?" He goes, "I'm on my way out, Dylan." We bump fists as I ask, "Where you going?" He says, "Me and Chuck Tobin are on a one night excursion to the Cape to scope out a spot for spring break." I'm like, "Spring break at the Cape? It'll be cold." He shrugs, "It's Chuck's idea and I've never been there so it's something new to see. We're taking the ferry to both islands and checking it all out." I mutter, "Good luck. Um, where's Pony?" He goes, "In the lavatory," and he puts a backpack on over his coat, saying, "See ya, Dylan." As he walks out the door I go, "You're not taking that shit-box Oldsmobile of yours, are you?" He laughs, "Yes we are!" I go, "Double good luck in that case." He says, "Hey, thanks again for last week's haircut, Dylan," and the door closes. I've given Tom four haircuts and they're all regular SuperCut jobs because that's what he's used to and what he claims he likes. Jesus, some guys have no style! And poor Tom at twenty-years-old is not bad looking except he could be twenty-eight going by his 'looks'.
Some guys are cursed with much older looks. He's a really nice guy though. He should have no problem getting booze using his fake ID at the Cape.
I'm snooping through things on Pony's desk when he comes in asking, "How the fuck did you get here so fast?" We do a hug with me messing-up his hair and him yelling, "Dammit! That's what I was fixing in the lavatory after taking a dump." I mutter, "TMI, numb-nuts." He's goes, "Since you fucked it up you need to comb my hair for me," and I'm like, "You still don't have a mirror in this dump?" He shrugs, "I keep forgetting to buy one." Pony's been getting the haircut I've been doing for a number of guys lately, and I haven't done that particular style for a year or so before resurrecting for Chub before Christmas break; and then for Rob after his hair was fucked by the fraud Hispanic barber. Now other guys are asking for it too. Golden being the latest just yesterday.
As I'm combing Pony's hair down on top and flipping up the bangs in front, he asks, "Do you think I need a haircut?" I chuckle, "No! I gave you a haircut the same day as Tom and that was six days ago." He goes, "Over Christmas break my old man was ragging on me to get a haircut before coming back to school. Ha, I told him I've got my own personal fucking barber and no hick from my home town is ever cutting the hair on my head again." I ask, "Did you say 'fucking'?" He goes, "Yeah, we all say 'fuck' in my family. We're crude and rude from the wrong side of the tracks, why?" I go, "No reason, but your hair will be a long mop when I see you next fall considering it'll be four months between your last haircut from me at the end of this semester." He goes, "No-no, you're wrong about that, Dylan. I'm making a trip back here from Pennsylvania. To your place in Framingham to be exact and I'm doing it at least twice during the summer. I'll be spending a couple of days with you at your place." He said that so seriously I can't help laughing out loud. He goes, "Well, I am. You'll see."
As he's telling me that he's taking off his clothes. I'm watching with a smirk on my face but the truth is he has a dynamo body. He's was on his high school varsity swimming and gymnastics teams from freshman year through senior year. Quite an athlete and because of him I got me in good shape last semester with our three mile runs and workouts at the fitness center. We can't do that this year because of conflicting class schedules. Oh man, Pony's body is almost totally devoid of hair too. He claims that's due to some Philippine influence from his grandmother, but who knows if that's bull-shit or not. Pony's got a very pale skin tone contrasting sexily with his dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. He's really quite striking to look at and kinda cute too.
Naked now, Pony says, "I've been very bad so you'll need to discipline me with a hard spanking and don't stop when I start whining for you to stop."
I nod, "Okay, but where's the ping pong paddle?" He grins, "I lied about that to get you to come over." I'm like, "Daryl, you're the one who likes getting spanked, remember? I don't even want to do it so why would you having a paddle get me to come running over here?" He goes, "You're here aren't you?" I chortle, "Yeah, but not because of the paddle. The allure of fucking your sweet ass was too much to ignore." He turns and sticks his ass out looking back at it, mumbling, "It is a cute ass, isn't it?" I go, "Yeah, and tell me something. Have you always been this comfortable being naked?" He shakes his head, "No, just the opposite. I told you I avoided being naked in front of anyone before meeting you. I'm so comfortable with you now that it's like being-naked is nothing. And I know you drool over my body so I let you see me naked." I go, "I'm hardly drooling, Pony, but you do have a slightly hot body."
He leans over putting his hands on his knees and looks back at me, asking, "What are you waiting for?" I shrug, "I just don't feel like spanking you, Pony. I feel like hugging your tight body and messing-up your hair and then getting you to suck my big cock." He snorts and goes, "You're delusional.
It's not big!" I'm like, "Bigger than yours!" He's like, "C'mon, Dylan, give me a spanking." I step over to him and put a hand on his back, then rub over some of his spine's thirty-three vertebrae; I can only see a few of them. Like most of us Pony has a slightly 'S' shaped spine. His back has slight concave curves at his neck and again at his lower back or lumbar region as it's officially called. Everything about his body is tightly in proportion. Rubbing the palm of my hand down his back again, I sternly tell him, "Do not jerk-off during your spanking!" He whines, "I can't help it. You'll need to tie my hands behind me if you don't want me jerking-off." I chuckles, "Okay, I will," and take my clean handkerchief from my back pocket.
Folding it into a triangle and twirling it, I go, "Put your hands behind you."
He does that and I tie his wrist together with a good tight knot. Pony goes, "Oh fuck, this is so hot! I'm fucking helpless..."
It is a little sexy, but previously my experience has been exclusively at Pony's end of things. I'm usually the one tied-up. He's still bending over at the waist as I walk him to his bed and get him to lie his head and chest there. My first, "Smack!' on his ass gets no response from Pony so I whack on his ass until both his butt cheeks are pink and he finally goes, "Okay-okay that's enough! Stop!" Three more smacks from me and he's trying to move away but I hold him there and, "Smack!Smack!Smack!" and now he has a crying sound to his voice, "I said that's enough, Dylan," and he adds a weak, "Please stop." Reaching between his legs I feel his cock and while it's firm I expected him to have a hard boner. Reading my mind, he grumbles, "It was a hard boner before you did those extra smacks on my ass." I go, "Huh, that's interesting. You get a boner from being spanked, but then if you get too many smacks makes you lose it." He turns his head to the side on the bed, "This is the first time you didn't stop when I said to stop." I'm exasperated, "You made me promise not to stop." He laughs, "Since when do you do what I say?" I mutter, "Yeah, you've got a point there."
Teasing him, "Well. Pony-boy, with you in this helpless condition I've got the strongest urge to give you another spanking because of your whining."
He goes, "Bull-shit. You're too nice to do that," and he lifts off the bed standing-up, saying "But keep my hands ties." I go, "Next time do not tell me something unless you mean it!" He grins, "In hindsight it was good that you didn't stop because I almost shot-off." I mutter, "See, I'm always trying to please." He's trying to look behind him to see his ass, asking, "Are my butt cheeks red?" I shake my head and sit on his bed, then lie back, saying, "No, ya big pussy. They're just pinkish. I could get them red with more spanking if you want." He chuckles, "I thought you didn't like spanking me." I mumble, "I'm getting to like it a little." He flops on the bed next to me, "Get naked, Dylan, so I can rub against your body. Oh I almost forgot, I want you to shave my pubes like yours." I go, "You'll need to do that yourself." He goes, "Pleeeeease!" So what the hell? I say, "Turn over on your back then."
He does that and I push at his feet, saying, "Pull your legs back and spread them." He does it, saying, "It's uncomfortable with laying on my tied-hands, but I'm getting hard again just thinking about you shaving my pubes."
Looking over at his desk top, I'm like, "Um, do you have scissors?" and he nods his head toward his desk, "In my toiletry kit." I go over and move things around until I see the scissors. "Why do you have scissors?" He shrugs, "I don't know, I just do." Picking up a Gillette ProGlide razor and holding it up, I ask, "And why do you have this?" He says, "I shave! Um, every couple of weeks." I'm rustling through his toiletry kit again and come up with a can of Gillette shaving gel, saying, "Well it's a good thing you have this stuff 'cause without it I couldn't perform this delicate procedure."
Walking over to the bed I rub the back of my fingers up his cheek, asking, "And just where on your baby face do you need to shave?" He goes, "I shaved this morning so you won't feel anything, but it's on my upper lip and below my sideburns." I'm like, "Okay, don't shave for a month, Pony, and you'll look extra cute with a few scattered whiskers." He grins, "Ahhh, it's so nice you think I'm cute." I go, "Yeah, well you are in a goofy kind of way." He says, "Any way is better than none. Now shave my pubic hairs so I can be like my idol."
Spreading his legs some more, I mumble, "Like I said, this is a delicate operation so don't fucking move. I don't want to cut your dick off or cut your scrotum and have one of your tiny balls roll out." He laughs, then I ask, "In all seriousness. All kidding aside... do you really want to do this? How about showering in the communal dorm showers? How you gonna explain your pubic-hairlessness" He goes, "Ooooh, I didn't think of that. No, don't do it." He's getting off the bed as I'm mumbling, "What a pain-in-the-ass you are." He goes, "Thanks for mentioning that shower thing." His hands are still tied behind him, "Are you gonna keep my hands tied?" I'm like, "Do you want me to?" He says, "Yeah," and I'm like, "Well why did you ask me then?"
He shrugs, "I don't know."
Sitting on the bed again, I take my shirt off and drop it on the floor.
Then wiggle out of my sneakers and pull my pants and underpants off. Then, wearing only socks, I go, "Okay, suck my dick. I'm kinda anxious to fuck that sweet smacked-ass of yours." He mutters, "Me too," and awkwardly gets on his knees between my legs. "Would you hold your dick out, Dylan?" I shake my head, "No, you figure out how to do this with no hands." I shaved my pubes in the shower yesterday so it's smooth down there for Pony's face as his cheek moves my limp cock to the side and he tries lifting it with his nose and we're both chuckling. With his tongue out he gets it under my dick and then eases the head of my penis up onto his tongue and then captures it in his mouth. I clap, "Bravo!" Pony's grinning as his sharp teeth slide against the underside of my cock making me shudder a little because it feels good inside his warm wet mouth. Damn this is a major turn-on. He's licking the head and moving his head forward getting a couple of inches of shaft inside with the head.
Making wet slurping sounds Pony sucks on my dick as I run my fingers through his soft dark brown hair and look into his dark blue eyes. He's got his eyes at the top of their sockets looking up at me and smiling around my firming cock, saying, "Swish shh funs." I go "What's that you say... this is fun?" He nods smiling harder. Damn he's a likable kid! I say 'kid' but he's not even a year younger than me and he's almost exactly my size, although in better shape. So he's not a 'kid' although I think of him like that because he acts like one most of the time. And he gets flustered at times too, asking, 'Why do I act like I'm fifteen when I'm with you?' I don't know why but I kinda like it.
There's spit dripping off his chin by the time he's sucked a nice boner on my dick. I take it in my fingers to pull it out of his mouth, "Awesome job, Pony! Really felt good!" He sits back on his ankles, "Tasted good too.
You probably think I'm a sicko, but look," and he nods his head at his lap where he has another fairly hard boner. I go, "You sick fuck! Do you mean to tell me you're so gay you get a hard-on from sucking my dick?" He shrugs, "Apparently so. I'm one sick mother-fucker of a homo, huh?" I laugh, "You and me both, Pony. I get a boner sucking dick too," and I mess his hair again. "Goddammit, don't do that, Dylan!" I mess it up some more and he laughs, muttering, "You're doing good with your efforts to become a prick." I'm like, "It doesn't come naturally to me, but yeah I'm making some head-way.
Thanks for noticing."
Getting off the bed I get behind him and help pull him up with a hand under each of his arms. "Lie back on the bed like you were for your spanking."
He goes, "Well help me do it. Everything is awkward without my arms and hands." I guide him to lie on the side of the bed with his ass at the end.
He's on his feet so his ass is just the right height. I ask, "Do you have lubricant of any kind?" He says, "Not the kind you mean, no. I use hand lotion when I'm forced to jerk-off because you're too busy having sexy fun elsewhere." Fumbling around in his toiletry kit again I find a bottle of Neutrogena Norwegian Hand Cream... Fragrance-Free. Holding it up, I'm like, "This shit is expensive." He shrugs, "I don't know. I got it as a stocking stuffer for Christmas." I act incredulous, "You mean to tell me you still have a Christmas stocking at your age?" He whines, "It's my mom! I have nothing to do with it." I mutter, "What a baby," and then tell him, "My mom does the same thing." He mutters, "See."
With cream in my hand I stroke my cock and then squeeze some cream up his ass and around the lips of his nice looking asshole. He has a perfect rosebud anus that's always been very clean any time I've seen it. "I ask, "Do you ever take a crap, Pony? Your asshole is always so clean." Rob's like that too. Pony says, "Don't be absurd. It's just a matter of cleaning my ass after pooping and I'm a very clean person." I go, "Well as they say, cleanliness is next to Godliness." He asks, "Who says that?" I go, "It's an idiom from the Bible I believe. Spiritual purity and goodness." He goes, "That's me alright!"
Holding my fairly hard cock in my fist I guide the head to his creamed-filled asshole and push the head halfway in and see his buttocks muscles involuntarily tighten. Both butt cheeks are back to their natural pale creamy color after the spanking; not unlike the color of his other two cheeks. A small thrust gets the head of my boner disappearing inside Pony and he goes, "Ummmm, that's tight, Dylan." I ask, "Does it hurt?" He shrugs, "A little, but don't stop. I like it." Yeah, well so do I.
Leaning forward slightly gets two inches of my hard cock sliding tightly up his ass and now my shoulders do their little shudder at how good it feels. Pony groans, "Ooooh, fuuuuck that's nice... oooh." Gripping his hips now that sensations are soaring off my cock, I hold my breath for a second before pushing another two inches inside Pony and we both go, "Aaaah, fuuuuck,"
and the last of it goes in with me shaking a little. Damn this feels good.
Pony grunts, "Could you wait a second?" He's feeling a little pain I assume. It won't last long and in ten-or-fifteen-seconds I can see him relax as he sighs, "Your dick is magic, Dylan, pure magic." I know how he feels. I believe Pony and I have similar rectums and ain't we lucky! Actually we are.
Pulling my boner back until half the head is outside his ass, and me making a "Shhhhh," sound sucking air in between closed lips because my boner is buzzing with pleasure. Sizzling sensations buzz up and down my cock and I g et that dominant sense I always get when 'topping'. It's very cool and I see the attraction some have to it and sort of understand why they want to take it higher. Pushing my cock back up his ass it's fascinating watching it disappear inside Pony's body and I shake with the pleasure of it all. Pony moans again, "Mmmmm, ooooh man, that feels really good."
After one more semi-slow withdrawal and push back I begin fucking him the way we both like it; really hard and fast. The familiar sounds begin, "Slapslapslapslap," accompanying by Pony's moan of sexual pleasure. I'm gripping his hips although I don't need to because with him lying on the bed like this Pony can't go anywhere. It's two scintillating minutes with my head back and my hips moving forward and back six-inches at a time fucking his ass really well and then I stop with Pony groaning, "Wha... no.." and I begin doing those deliberate hard thrusts with the extra hump when I'm all the way in. Thrust, then a hard hump that lifts his ass a half inch. He goes, "Oooh!" with every final hard thrust. This is a dominant way to fuck, almost like the 'top' is punishing his bottom. Well it actually is a turn-on seeing Pony's whole body jolt at the final hard hump with him exclaiming, "Oooh!" as if the wind was knocked out of him.
I can feel my cock get rock-hard doing this and it has Pony squirming and groaning on the bed. After a couple of minutes of that I feel my orgasm building so it's back to hard and fast fucking, "Slapslapslap," with Pony humping his hips up at every thrust, moaning, "I'm gonna cum, ooooh, oooh, Ahhh!" as his hips hump forward now and I suppose his long, "Oooooh," goes along with him shooting his creamy load on the bedspread. It's on me hot and heavy now too and I groan humping against his smacked butt cheeks shooting a tantalizing long stream of cum into his bowels. My face scrunches up and I hump three more times quickly with streaks of pleasure all around my groin and the inside of my thighs. I shake a little, then shudder as zipping last sensations from my climax sparkle and then fade away leaving me breathing deeply and feeling weak. My cock feels so good surrounded snugly in Pony's rectum.
Leaving my cock up his ass I untie his arms and drop the wrinkled handkerchief on the floor near my clothes. Using both hands I rub Pony's back as he sighs and docilely lies there with his arms spread out and his ass hanging low. I go, "Ooooh, man," and drop my hips a little to thrust in his cream-filled ass for another half-minute more before pulling out and sitting on the bed next to him. With a big inhale I lie back on the bed with my now soft slippery cock against the inside of my left leg feeling wet and cold. I'm lying on one of Pony's arms so he pulls it out from under me and lies it across my chest, murmuring, "That was really good. Felt so fucking good, Dylan. Will you marry me?" I laugh, then say, "When we first met you said you were only partially bisexual, but mostly straight. Remember?" His face is towards me so I look at him, repeating, "Remember?" He says, "Seriously, why do you always throw that miscalculation of mine in my face? I idolize you and you mock me for it."
Staring at him for a few seconds, I say, "Hey, no fair switching from our normal ball-busting banter to being serious; you're not allowed to do that without giving me notice first. You know I was just breaking balls. If you want to be serious I'll tell you I'm very fond of you and will miss you a lot during the summer and I hope you will visit me." He grins, "Got'cha! I wasn't being serious. I made-up that idolizing bull-shit just to break your balls." I go, "No, you were serious," but I have to laugh. "You little brat," and he goes, "Little? We're the same size!" and he rolls over to lie his chest on mine, saying, "It's okay if you want to kiss me." I mumble, "What? I don't want to kiss you," and he goes, "You were in my dream the other night. We were going someplace dressed identically, but I don't know where we were going." I roll my eyes, "I don't believe you." He says, "I don't think guys should kiss but I know you want to, so go ahead if you must." I'm like, "I already told you I don't want to," and he leans his head over and kisses my lips, then grinning, he says, "C'mon, kiss back, you prick!" We do a really good sexy kiss and then I kiss his forehead, saying, "I was lying about you visiting this summer. I do not, under any circumstances, want you to visit." He laughs and crawls on top go me, saying, "No, you weren't lying the first time," and he kisses me some more.
I get him off me and we lie together, our naked bodies feeling good against one another. After a few minutes of rubbing our hands on each other, he asks, "Can we do it again?" I shrug, "I wish we could but it's a matter of time." Let's see... I left the baseball facility at three-thirty but don't know how long I've been here. Looking at my watch, I go, "It's four-twenty and baseball practice usual lasts two-to-three hours. Closer to three usually, so we might have time if my balls are able to manufacture some spunk.
Hey, do you want to try fucking me for a change?" He shakes his head, "No thanks, I wouldn't feel right doing that with you. I like you being the top.
You're older and much more experienced and it, um, makes me feel special that you want to fuck my ass. I guess I'm a committed 'bottom' for life." I go, "You and I are a lot alike, Daryl." He says, "Call me Pony! Daryl is what professors and parents call me." I go, "Huh, I was thinking of insisting that you call me Mister Newman." He goes, "Don't hold your breath. Didn't you ever have a nickname?" I shake my head, "No, I never did. My brother has one though; it's Chubby." He's like, "No shit! I've only heard you call him that a thousand times. By the way, your brother's almost as cool as you are." I go, "He's way cooler than me."
Pony puts his face against the side of mine and does a noisy inhale, then says, "You smell amazing. I love the way you smell. Remember when we ran together and then we'd work-up more of a sweat in the fitness center?" I go, "No, I have absolutely no recollection of that." He ignores my lie, saying, "That's when you smelled the best. I almost creamed in my jeans at how sexy you smelled. I think I've got a thing for you." I mumble, "That's very flattering but you smell good too." He goes, "Do you almost cream your jeans smelling me?" I go, "Ha! No, I can't say that I do." He goes, "For fucks sake, you could lie to make me feel good." I'm like, "Oh, I forgot. Yeah, I'm always almost creaming in my jeans around you. I think it's because of the way you smell or it could be because you have the most awesome haircuts I think I've ever seen." He takes a deep breath and mutters, "You're crazy, you know that?"
Getting off the bed I say, "Well this crazy person need to take a wicked piss," and I start getting dressed. Pony says, "You can piss in my mouth." I go, "No, I can't!" He'd probably let me too. He says, "I've seen that online like fifty times. It's so fucking sexy letting someone piss in your mouth." I go, "No, it isn't." He gets up and starts getting dressed too, asking, "Will you go with me tomorrow to hold my hand while I get my nipple pierced?" I give him a look, then say, "Yes, I will." He frowns, "Really? You're going to let me suffer like that?" I go, "I'm sick of you asking me to go with you so I'm calling your bluff." He reaches over and lifts my nip ring, "This is so fucking cool though. So, you'll come with me Saturday morning?" I go, "I said I would, didn't I?" He goes, "Good, thanks! What time?" I ask, "Do you even know where to go?" He says, "Yeah. Ed's Heritage Tattoo & Body Piercing Parlor. It's on route 28 in Salem. That's fifteen minutes from here." I go, "Oh man, do you even know how much it's gonna hurt? It hurts like hell!" He shrugs, "You got one so I'm gonna get one too." Shaking my head, I say, "I strongly warn you against doing that but if you insist I will go with you to check the place out at least. There's sanitation considerations." He jumped twice like a four-year-old, yelling, "You'll go with me! Thank you! Thank you!" Oh brother! We go to the dorm's lavatory where two guys are showering and doing some ass-grabbing and laughing like two twelve-year-old girls. There's a guy shaving at the sink too, who says, "Ponti, how they hanging." Pony says, "Oh, 'sup, Frank?" Frank goes, "You going to that party on Main Street tonight? I need a ride." Pony says, "My roommate took his car for the weekend." Frank mutters, "What the fuck good are you then!" I'd like to kick him in the balls! Instead I take a piss at the furthest urinal from the sinks. Pony stands right next to me, saying, "Don't look over, Dylan. I can't get started if anyone is looking at me." I go, "Well why the fuck did you take the urinal right next to me then?" Frank calls over, "Hey, Ponti, can you let me have twenty bucks until next Wednesday when my 'rents put some money in my debit account?"
Frank looks a little like a hedgehog. Stocky body with a smart-ass superior tone to his voice. Typical bully type and I despise bullies. Pony says, "I'm sorry Frank but I'm down to my last twenty-five dollars myself."
Frank's drying his hands and face after washing the shaving cream remnants off his face, saying, "So lend me the twenty and you'll have five-bucks left, ya toad. What's the big deal? Or would you rather I continue giving you wedgies every time I see you?" I tap Frank's shoulder and say, "Are you hard of fuckin' hearing, Frank? He just said he doesn't have the money to lend you and even if he did he wouldn't." Frank goes, "Well who the fuck do you think you are?" I go, "I'm the guy who just told you he's not lending you any fucking money. You can walk to the party broke for all we give a shit." He puts his shaving stuff in a plastic bag, muttering, "Jesus, I just asked him. You don't need to have a shit-fit over it," and he leaves muttering under his breath. Pony looks at me for a second, then says, "Frank's the dorm bully." I go, "Well fuck him if he can't take joke." Then I'm like, "Hey, if you only have twenty-five dollars how do you expect to pay for getting your fucking nipple pierced, and the jewelry to go in the piercing?" He goes, "I only have twenty-five dollars on me but I've got almost three-hundred in my debit account." I go, "Oh, too bad."
We walk back to Pony's room with him looking around, saying, "Now Frank will kick my ass the next time he sees me." I go, "No, he won't!" Inside Pony says, "My hero," and I go, "Are you serious with the Ed's Heritage thing-a-ma-gig piercing?" He nods, "Can you pick me up at ten in the morning?"
Making a 'face', I mutter, "I guess, but I wish you'd change your mind." He puts both his hands behind my neck, "I'm not changing my mind and I'll feel safe with you there." I pull his hands away, "Me being there isn't going to make it hurt any less." We argue about the nip ring for a while and then get Cokes from the downstairs vending machine and drink them outside having a smoke. Naturally Pony bums one off me. Out of the blue, he says, "I wish we could live together." The serious way he says things like that makes me laugh and then cough as exhaling smoke catches in my throat. He goes, "What...?" I'm shaking my head coughing again as he says, "I know we can't live together. I just wish we could. I know you like fucking me so don't lie and say you don't. It'd be the coolest thing sleeping with you. Plus you always know just the right thing to do no matter what the situation is. I wouldn't need to worry about anything 'cause I'd just look to you for what needs to be said or done." Jesus, who does he sound like? I go, "Don't say outrageous things when I'm smoking, okay?" He shrugs, "What's outrageous? If you hadn't met Rob, who is a great guy I admit that, you and I could be a couple." I say, "Without anyone else in the world knowing about it, right?" He goes, "Hell yes! I'm not nearly ready to come 'out' to anyone except you." I say, "Well your logic is impeccable. Yeah, that would work. What could possibly go wrong?" He goes, "I'm just saying if you hadn't met Rob first." I go, "Uh huh."
Later we go inside and, with him dropping his pants and me taking my dick out through the fly of my jeans, he sucks a hard-on for me and I fuck him really hard. We both have tiny ejaculations but like always it feels awesome anyway. We lie on the bed afterwards with Pony describing how he and I could be a gay couple without anyone being the wiser. I laugh every ten seconds at the details he thinks would work-out and he's like, "Why do you keep laughing? I'm serious! It definitely could work if Rob gets hit by a bus or something."
Rob doesn't get hit by a bus or something and instead I receive a text at quarter-to-six asking me to pick him up. Oddly the text is from Danny Monday though, so I don't know what that's all about. It would be wildly out of character for Rob to tell Danny, "Shoot Dylan a text that I'm ready to be picked-up' or anything along those lines, like Danny's Rob's assistant. No, that wouldn't be like either one of them. More likely Rob's cellphone needs charging and he used Danny's.
After promising Pony I'll be over to get him at ten o'clock tomorrow morning we do a hug and I'm on my way. How the hell am I going to handle Pony's piercing situation? I'm not his parent or even a brother but I feel I need to dissuade him from doing this. If I don't go with him though I'm afraid he'll get his roommate, Tom Higgins, to drive him some other time and neither of them will have the sense to change their mind if the place isn't sanitary. Ed's Heritage-whatever on route 28 doesn't sound like a sterile clinic to me...
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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