DYLAN'S SUMMER FOLLOWING HIS COLLEGE JUNIOR YEAR
Chapter 15
by Donny Mumford
My alarm goes off and after a second or two I'm like... yeah, I feel good. I'm ready for this brand-new Tuesday morning. And then when I stretch my arm bumps Dodger's nose. That startles me for a second as he goes, "Yo!" I mutter, "Oh, Dodger! Um, go back to sleep." How could I forget Dodger? I start to get out of bed as he laughs and mutters, "Oh no you don't," and grabs my arm pulling me back. I land on my stomach, protesting, "I gotta get ready for work." His right leg swings over both of mine and, quick as a cat, he's behind me, saying, "I know you've gotta get ready for work, but we have time for a quickie... right, Dylan?" My shoulders shudder with anticipation as I go, "Yeah, of course!"
In a fraction of a second my senses of touch and smell kick-in causing an electrical spark in my brain igniting sexual arousal... BANG, just like that! It was an instantaneous electrical signal to my spinal cord initiating basically a hydraulic process where blood vessels, nerve endings, hormones and my psyche work together causing blood to flow into chambers of my penis and I'm on my way to another tantalizing boner. Nothing I can do about any of that.
Dodger asks, "Redux of last night, Dylan?" He asks permission knowing I'm always willing so, without thinking about it too much, I get right up on my knees pulling the pillow over to rest my face on it. No spanking this morning apparently and I think that's because Dodger knows my Mom's home and a hard spanking gets kinda loud at times... yeah, it does...heh heh. He's up on his knees behind me between my legs dragging his cock up and down my ass crack, quietly saying, "Try to hold down your squeal when you climax, if you can. We don't want to disturb your Mom." Awfully considerate of Dodger to think of that but Mom can't possibly hear us from her bedroom.
The head of his cock, not fully boned-up yet, gets pushed in past my sphincter muscle as I stifle a groan. It doesn't hurt as much as it did last night, but it does hurt. That's a fat head on Dodger's penis although it's not as fat or as long as it's going to get. He has a hand cupping both my shoulders as, with two hard thrusts, he forces his quickly hardening cock up my ass. And, just like last night, his crotch is already tightly against my butt cheeks with stabbing pain screaming from the nerve endings in my offended rectum. I'm biting the pillow waiting for what I know will come next... the pleasure-train. Dodger's waiting for it too. I feel his cock becoming very hard as it swells and lengthens inside me. He rubs my back and ruffles the hair on my head knowing he's totally in-charge. They're nice caresses actually and take my mind off the pain a little as he murmurs encouraging words telling me how good it feels and how much he likes having sex with me. He continues rubbing the palms of his hands on me and I drift into a contended submissive trance. What else could I do after a dominant ten-second-start like that?
I slip into this submissive trance faster this morning than last night and while there's still pain involved it's manageable. How awesome it feels being sexually dominated in the casual way Dodger does it! There's dominance, but no meanness involved. It's just the two us enjoying sex the way we both like it. When the pain begins to settle down Dodger brings it back doing a number of hard withdrawals and extra hard thrusts back up my ass. My body jolts frontward and backwards as I grunt at the pain with my cock getting harder and harder. By the fifth thrust my rectum's nerve endings begin getting the message and start the process of transitioning from pain to pleasure. I gasp, "Ooooh, jeeeezus, that's hot, Dodger."
With a little friendly chuckle, he ruffles my hair again and then grips my hips, murmuring, "This is so awesome, Dylan, I've got goose bumps all over me," and I feel his body shudder which makes my shoulders do the same thing. Then without further delay it's a hard, fast fucking with the inevitable, "Slapslapslapslap," sounds echoing in the room to go along with our involuntary quiet moans of intense sexual pleasure; pleasure that reaches heights only possible during consensual sex. It's four-or-five-minutes of pure pleasure this morning... intense pleasure streaming all over my body. I rub my face back and forth on the pillow with my hard cock throbbing-out pleasure that keeps increasing and flowing all around my groin and boner while my rectum pulses-out throbbing pleasurable sensations. Constant sexual pleasure so intense I could scream.
In my head I'm picturing Dodger's fat, hard sex-organ quickly disappearing inside me and then just as quickly, shining with his pre-cum, reappearing and it's happening over and over at a steady fast pace causing ripples of pleasure rolling all over me. Dodger's orgasm must be building faster this morning because he's beginning wilder thrusting now, apparently in a mad dash to the finish line. His natural dominant inclinations take over as he abandons all caution and begins smacking my ass with every thrust of his fat hard boner and the, "Smack!" sounds join the "Slapping" sounds along with our moans of pleasure getting more pronounced and then my muffled squeal into the pillow, "Oooh! Eeeiiiii..." as my climax explodes on the scene with my back arches and YES! Dodger's successfully fucked another quick climax out of me.
I shake and do another muffled squeal into the pillow as a second hard cum-stream splatters under my chin, just like it did like last night. Then another stream of cum burst out as every muscle in my body clenches and pleasure blooms in my brain. "Ooooh, fucccck." Now drools of cum cause shivers of pleasure spreading out from my rectum and groin. More moans into the pillow with my limp body jostled on the bed by Dodger's hard thrusting. It's another delicious fifteen-second before he's tight against my ass humping out his load of spunk, shooting it into my bowels. Oh fuck, I feel really good! Climaxing after just waking-up is a fantastic way to start the day. Dodger groans as he thrusts in my cum-saturated ass, murmuring, "This feels so perfect. Omigod, what a great climax. Whew," and he pulls out to flop on the bed next to me. Yeah, I can spare five-minutes for that!
We both look a little guilty now as I ask, "Do you think we made too much noise?" He goes, "I sincerely hope not," and, with our eyes big, we both listen for any sound in the house. A squeak of a floor board maybe, but no. Mom is still apparently sound asleep. Her bathroom and mine are located between our two bedrooms so we're good. I whisper, "We're good," and he grins that hot-shit grin of his, whispering, "So why are we whispering?" We both snicker like little kids who have just gotten away with our hands in the cookie jar. It's just some good ol' buddy-sex with a buddy... harmless, but awesome at the same time.
He pats my shoulder, "Thanks, Dylan. Great way to wake-up! Now I'm gonna follow your advice and try getting a little more sleep?" Nodding my head, I lay here in my own cum enjoying some left-over buzzing in my ass that brings on another little shoulder shudder of pleasure. Holy shit that was a great climax! Taking a deep breath and wanting to do it all over again, I reluctantly mutter, "Sure, Dodger, sleep as late as you want." I push up off my stomach and snort out a laugh and then whisper, "Jesus, there's scratchy dried cum on the sheets from last night and now this morning's wet cum, and it's all mine." He pulls the covers around him, mumbling, "Yeah, hee hee... cum from my pecker is on the sheets here too." I pat his head and then, with a contended sigh, get out of bed and pad naked into the bathroom for a piss and then a shower. Being naked in bed with someone you like and then having sex before going to sleep, and then having it again as soon as you wake up is a good way to live a life.
In the shower, I'm trying to figure out why is it that fucking with Dodger seems extra hot? I know that being in love with Robby makes our sex extra special, but why do I get off so hot having sex with Dodger? I mean as compared to having sex with say Hayden or Danny, who I did it with just the other day? Well wait a second, Hayden has a something that gets me extra hot too. Thinking about him gets me all squirmy and I'm not sure why. Yeah, it's similar to how I got around Ryan Wilcox that strange freshman year. Holy shit yeah, Hayden! Damn, I'll need to explore that a little more, but right now I'm super-satisfied with my sex-buddy Dodger. I mean, until Robby's better or Hayden gets back from California, which ever happens first. That little fucker Hayden gets me so aroused it's sick.
Maybe it's seems special because Dodger's 'new' again but with some very good memories involved as well. That might be the something extra about Dodger that gets me so turned-on. There's something that's special about him; something I can't put into words. But then there are lots of somethings I can't articulate... like Hayden's something. Maybe it's as simple as my pheromones theory. Yeah, and maybe I should stop over-analyzing everything and just enjoy the something that's special about certain guys. That's what I ought to do although I probably won't.
After doing everything I need to do in the bathroom I get dressed in pressed khakis, a pale-blue dress shirt and a striped tie; lastly, blue socks and tan loafers for my feet. Combing my hair, I nod to myself because my hair is starting to look good. Thanks, Rob. Hmmm, looking closely at Dodger who's sleeping so soundly he looks dead. It would suck if he's dead! There isn't a sound coming from him and I don't see his chest rising and lowering as he breathes. I put my hand in front of his mouth and nose... yeah, he's breathing. That's good! Grabbing a paper tablet from my desk I write, 'Text me' and leave it next to him on the bed.
I'm feeling fabulous this morning and of course the sex has a lot to do with me being in this incredibly alive and energized mood! I make my lunch: two ham-and-cheese sandwiches on rye with honey mustard, a bottle of peach Snapple, a bag of Lays potato chips and a fudge bar. Everything goes in a lunch bag and that goes in my backpack. With the backpack on and carrying my sport coat I step outside to another nice day early in June. From habit, I light a cigarette as I'm walking down the steps. I've decided I'll drive through the center of downtown Framingham again like I did yesterday. To hell with the traffic jam. It's quicker than going around it and now that I know what to expect I'll deal with it better.
My mood is the complete opposite of yesterday's mood; today I'm in this positive frame of mind and not feeling a trace of grumpiness. After dealing with the drive to work, everything goes smoothly. Eileen gets my coffee and donut without even annoying me. I tell her 'thanks' and then at nine o'clock I do the meeting with Carl which takes all of three-minutes and then the morning interviews go very well too. At noon, I'm outside eating lunch at the same picnic table I used yesterday. It's the empty one near the dumpster. I barely have my first sandwich unwrapped when Marty West plops down across from me, asking, "How ya doing, Dylan?" I go, "Fine, Marty. How you doing?" He chuckles and says, "Mighty fine except I can't wait to move on from the mailroom. The work is so boring I'm losing my will to live!" I swallow some sandwich and ask, "You're not really the mailroom supervisor though, are you?" He goes, "No, but I'm working with Tom; Tom Norris, who is the supervisor. He's a grumpy fuck though. Been on the job too long I guess. He's the one who told me the mailroom guys are always last in line for everything. Whatever he meant by that."
He goes on to tell me this is his last week in the mailroom. I thought the mailroom was the first stop for his training program but it turns out Marty trained in four other department before the mailroom. He goes on to tell me about some of the good guys and women he's worked with and then, as always, there's a couple of assholes to watch out for. He names names and it's good to know who to watch out for because I'll be interviewing all of them.
Marty's okay I guess. Yesterday, in a sort of self-deprecating manner, he admitted he was subtly feeling me out to see if I'd be interested in getting together with him, and yes, perhaps even eventually maybe some sex. Ya know, it is odd I'm not feeling any sexual interest in him. I mean, he's gay and he's not bad looking and I like his buzz cut and he has pretty green eyes, but still I've no inclinations that even hint at any kind of a buddy-sex relationship. It happens like that sometimes. A guy just doesn't punch any of my buttons for whatever reason. Hey, maybe I can blame this on the wrong pheromones, heh heh, or maybe not.
We also talk about a topic we have in common, meaning Seth Applegate. Marty tells me that Seth is the nicest guy he's ever met and then touches on how they were sort of okay in bed together too, but then he adds: "Yeah, but frankly, Dylan, Seth was too, um, too vanilla, if you know what I mean." I nod my head as I eat my sandwich, although I don't know what he means. The couple of times I had sex with Seth I liked it a lot. Actually I liked everything about Seth. Marty chews on another of his stinky tuna fish sandwiches, saying, "How about you, Dylan. Are you into any type of kinky sex... or are you vanilla too?" I mutter, "I don't especially fall into either category, Marty, not that it's any of your business. No offense intended." He shrugs, "No, I understand. Some guys don't feel comfortable talking about sex." I go, "Most guys don't, especially with people they barely know." He just gives me a 'look' and then we're silent for a minute or so.
I'm only comfortable being silent with Chubby and Rob so I finally give-in and ask an innocuous question, "You into sports, Marty?" He mutters, "No, not most of them. Why would you ask?" That was rather a sharp retort by him. Hmmm, guess I hurt his feelings with my comment about discussing sex. Trying for a conciliatory tone, I say, "No reason in particular. I was just wondering if you ever watched the summer basketball league games in Natick. There's some very good basketball players in that league. Guys who are on college and high school teams." In a nicer manner, he goes, "Oh, I thought you meant professional sports. I like college basketball and, yeah, I've been to the Natick basketball courts quite a few times last summer. I'm sort of interested in the Patriots too because they're so damn good." I nod and, feeling we're back on friendly terms again, say, "Well next time I'm going to watch some summer league B-ball I'll shoot you a text and see if you're interested in coming along." He brightens up considerably and goes, "Hey thanks. I'd like to go with you," and he's chatty the rest of lunch. He graduated college last January so we talk some about our college experiences too.
I didn't see any reason for making an enemy unnecessarily. Even though I have some doubts about Marty he seems like an okay guy. Of course he kinda lied to me in the Men's room when we first met and he shook my hand with pee on his fingers, heh heh, and a little while ago he nosily inquired about my sexual proclivities, kinky-sex-wise, but none of that stuff warrants making an enemy of him. And I could have been more tactful handling his sex question I suppose. He seems friendly again though and after lunch he even takes my trash and put it in the dumpster along with his. Nice gesture.
We're walking back to the office together with him giving me a quick shoulder hug, asking, "Am I remembering correctly that Seth said one of your many talents was barbering?" I nod, "Yeah, it's been kind of a hobby of mine since I was a youngster. I enjoy doing haircuts for my friends." He goes, "Could you include me in that category as a friend at work, one who, um, eats lunch with you?" I snort out a chuckle, "Sure, Marty, but you just got a haircut." He rubs his hand over his buzzed head, muttering, "For sure, but, heh heh, I was thinking of my next haircut." I go, "I'd be glad to do your next one for you." He goes, "It won't be for quite a while though. I was thinking I'd go two months without getting a haircut. By then do you think it'd be long enough to comb like yours? I think yours is a really cool hair style. You're pretty cool yourself." Oh, a brown-noser too, huh?
Going inside the building and trying for blasé by ignoring his 'You're pretty cool' comment, I say, "It probably wouldn't take two months, Marty. Most guys' hair grows about a half-inch a month. More than that for some people." He goes, "Okay then! Would you keep an eye on the situation and tell me when you think my hair's grown out enough to get a haircut like yours?" I shrug, "Yeah, I guess," and then he does a thing I sometimes will do with guys, he squeezes the back of my neck leaving his hand there an extra second after the squeeze. I get shivers. It was unexpected and I unconsciously do the gay-guy thing of leaning my head towards him slightly. That's what gave him the opening to leave his hand there the extra second or two. My bus-buddy isn't gay so he leaned his head away from me when I gave the back of his neck a squeeze. Marty smiles and looks me in the eyes, quietly saying, "We'll have that beer one night too, okay?" I mutter, "Yeah, next week maybe." He pats my shoulder, "See ya later, Dylan," and he walks down the corridor toward the mailroom as I start up the steps. Hmmm, the palm of his hand felt good. Sexy eyes too.
Wait a second here! We ate lunch in like fifteen-minutes. Why the fuck am I going back to work so soon? I stop and retrace my steps back outside to have a smoke. A fifteen-minute lunch break just doesn't cut it. I made that mistake yesterday but I'm gonna smoke a cigarette today. Wandering around this nicely manicured picnic area I'm thinking how Marty's touching, while inappropriate because we hardly know each other, changes my view of him somewhat. If I get right down to it he's almost obsequious around me but even so I have this kinky idea that he'd be the opposite during sex. The way he said Seth was too vanilla during sex was a clue, and then he jumped from vanilla to asking me about kinky sex. Fuck, that's kind of interesting actually. Tomorrow I'll see if I feel any differently about him. You know, see if I get any sexual vibes; vibes of a dominant nature coming off Marty, ah, what the fuck's his last name? He's obviously interested in me, so why am I not feeling any bells going off yet for him?
My cell phone pings interrupting further considerations on that subject. Damn, but I do enjoy thinking about sex. Pulling my cellphone from my pocket I see it's a text from Dodger: 'Dylan, last night was awesome, dude! Is this a good time to call?' That's considerate of him knowing I'm at work. I call him and say, "Hey, Dodger, I'm on my lunch break. You're right, last night was great," and he says, "I left before your Mom got up and now I'm with my boy, Vinnie." I hear Vinnie's voice yell, "Hi, Dylan!" which is very unlike Vinnie. He's with Dodger though so he's probably on a high. Dodger tells me he set-up a checking and savings account with Bank of America this morning. After lunch, they'll be looking at apartments. He says, "What I wanted to ask, Dylan, is if I can stay with you again tonight. I'll lease an apartment today and shop for furniture this afternoon or tomorrow. I'm probably gonna get a motel room for the rest of the week, you know, until the furniture gets delivered." Wow, no grass growing under his feet.
Yeah, but why doesn't he get the motel room for tonight? Not that another night with him wouldn't be hot, so I'm like, "Of course you can stay with me tonight. You can stay all week if you want, but why not stay at your house?" He says, "I already told you why, but thanks for tonight. I'll see you around six." I mutter, "Yeah okay. And, um, why don't you plan on having dinner with Chubby and me tonight." He says, "Thanks, maybe I will." Well he's getting his business done. Wow though, he's got over three-hundred-thousand dollars in his bank account! Damn that's so cool. The lucky fuck!
Work this afternoon presents no surprises and thus far I've interviewed about one-third of the Accounting Department's employees. After hurrying to the parking lot to beat the employee rush at four-thirty, I drive straight to Rob's. Damn, I miss seeing him here at work and I mean even if it's for only a few minutes. Somehow, it's a nice feeling knowing he's in the same office building I'm in. At Rob's house the only car in the driveway is his pickup so when I knock on the back door no one answers. He's probably in bed for another nap. It's been four days since his operation so I kinda thought he'd be up and around by now. Leaning my back against the door I call his cellphone. It rings six times before a groggy Rob says, "Hi Dylan. I fell asleep watching a dumb movie. Can you come over?" I go, "I'm at your back door," and he says, "Oh good! It's open, come on up." What the fuck, they don't lock their doors?
I go in and then right upstairs to Rob's bedroom, but he's not in his bedroom. Looking down the hall I see the bathroom door is closed so I sit on his desk chair and two-minutes later Rob comes in wearing pajamas, saying, "I wanted to wash up a little." He combed his hair too and when we hug his breath smells like minty toothpaste. He looks okay, a little pasty maybe, but he's past due for a haircut. I hugged him gently with him sort of holding his hips back so I don't touch his right side. He runs his fingers through my hair and slides his hands down to my cheeks and then kisses my lips. "I miss you so much, baby," and I go, "Me to, Robby." He still seems frail though. What the fuck? He says, "Lay with me on the bed," and when we're on the bed he puts his arm behind my neck as I ask, "Are you getting any better?" Leaning his head over he murmurs, "You smell so good!"
Pulling my head over until it's touching his, Rob mumbles a repeat of my question, "Am I getting any better. I guess a little, but I'm definitely not noticing the improvement I expected. I'm still weak and I get tired easily and my fucking side still hurts if anything touches it. When I roll over on it in my sleep it wakes me up." Trying to be realistic now, and encouraging, I go, "It's only been four days, Rob. The doctor said it'd be between one to three weeks before you can resume normal activities, heh heh, especially the one I'm most interested in." He says, "Yeah, I know but aside from feeling like shit, this thing has also turned into an extremely disappointing situation." I look puzzled and he goes, "I mean work-wise. Dad told me I'm not going to Westborough this weekend, not that I thought I was but now it's official."
Being supportive, I mumble, "Well that just sucks!" He nods, "Yeah, but the worst part is he's taking Neal Trenton in my place and that pisses me off no end! That fucking Neal is the world's biggest suck-up and always volunteering to do stuff within my areas of responsibility." I mutter, "C'mon, calm down, Robby. Hey, I'd rather have you here anyway. Let the brown-noser do that Westborough shit." He turns to look at me, "Ya know, Neal's my age. He's the company's intern for the summer. If that asshole gets in at the beginning of the Westborough project, doing what I was supposed to do, Dad might keep him on it all the way through the fucking summer. I'll be marginalized!" Whatever the fuck that means. I murmur, "Good! Get marginalized and stay in the Framingham office." He squeezes my shoulder, "I'm glad you want me around, baby, but I'm trying to establish myself as an important cog in that two-year project. Only one more year of college and then I'm gonna be the big bread winner for our household and I don't wanna let you down. I'm ambitious!" Smelling the back of my hand I'm thinking, 'Bread-fucking-winner?'
Oh well, for right now it's nice snuggling against Robby but, oh shit, then I think about last night with Dodger. Sure, that was a sexy night alright but being here with Robby feels like my future and it feels right too. Or maybe I'm projecting again, although I'm not really sure what that exactly means. I like being in love though, and being loved back like Robby loves me. I say, "Tell me if you don't think this is a good idea, okay? I was thinking I'd make you feel good and get your mind off work with some intimate oral sex." He hugs my shoulders, grinning and asking, "Is there any other kind of oral sex except intimate?" I go, "Yeah, with some bum in the bus station's lavatory." He laughs, and goes, "Yeah, I see your point. That's a sweet offer, Dylan, but I'd be screaming in pain getting ready to blow my load. All my muscles tighten before orgasm and it'd hurt my two incisions. Um, I could try doing you though, if you want." Hmmm, I can't picture a position he'd be comfortable in doing that. I go, "Nah, you'd probably hurt yourself trying, but you wouldn't admit it and then some stitches might come loose. I'd feel terrible, and then at the emergency room while you're getting re-stitched it's be embarrassing explaining what happened to your folks." He chuckles, "Yeah, that'd be awkward alright."
We're quiet for a minute and then Rob asks, "Would you be more comfortable if we hung-out in the family room? Maybe get a couple of sodas or something." I'm like, "If you want to, sure, although I'm kinda liking cuddling with you here in bed." He says, "Me too. Um, so go on down and get us a couple of Cokes and we'll drink them here in my bedroom, okay? Oh, and see if there's any of that vanilla cake left. It should be on the counter." I nod and get off the bed realizing I had my shoes on and they left a smudge on the bedspread. Damn! Rob sees me looking at the dirt smudge and says, "That's okay. Um, but maybe take your loafers off before you get back on the bed." I nod, muttering, "Yeah, sorry about that..." Fuck, why do I need to think of everything?
On the way downstairs, I realize Robby just sent me on an errand the way he sent Danny on errands the other day when we were both here. The irony of it makes me smile because it's what I tried to get Robby to be like, bossy-and-in-charge. I tried for years, I mean until I changed my mind about that a month ago and now he starts doing it with both Danny and me. Ha ha, Robby in-charge, that's enough to give me a boner... yeah, but then almost anything will do that.
In the kitchen, I see half a white cake with vanilla icing. It's there on the counter on a cake-stand with a glass cover. Looks good too! Getting two cans of Coke and putting a can in each front pocket of my pants, I take the cover off the cake, open a few kitchen drawers until I find dinnerware, get two forks and then carry them and the cake upstairs. Robby grins, "Good, we'll finish that fucker off." I take off my shoes, saying, "This is my favorite kind of cake; white on white." Passing Robby the two Cokes I then carefully slide back onto the bed and balance the cake-stand between us. We eat the cake as we talk about Dodger. I go, "He stayed with me last night and he's probably staying with me tonight too... I think." Rob goes, "And I suppose you two couldn't help engaging in some friendly getting reacquainting activities." I shrug and mumble, "Yeah, we did." Rob goes, "Please don't tell me about it. I guess I can't begrudge my brother a home-coming present. You know he and Connor never left Texas, right?" I nod, but now I don't want to talk about Dodger anymore.
Mmmm, this cake is good! Rob swallows a big forkful of cake and asks, "Um, have you and Danny, um... ?" He means have we had sex so I frown at him and he goes, "No, don't tell me. It's okay if you did but I don't want to hear about it. Actually I told him to make sure you're okay, ya know with me being incapacitated and all..." Yeah, but by me not saying anything one way or the other that tells him everything he needs to know, or almost everything. If we didn't have sex I'd have insisted we didn't. Instead I shrug and feel kinda bad for Rob. He pats my shoulder, "It's okay, babe. We're one big happy family. Um, as long as we all act with discretion and, um, don't overdo things. I don't need to tell you that though. You're very discreet and I appreciate that." There's nothing further I need to say about this topic.
We eat more cake and then he says, in a bit of a whiny voice, "Do you think either of us will ever grow-up and be done with our alley-catting around, Dylan?" I want to tread lightly here, so I grin, "Oh, dude, you haven't used that 'alley-catting' term in a long time." Which doesn't answer his question obviously, but I think it was a rhetorical one in the first place and I don't know the answer anyway. He doesn't either apparently because he doesn't push it and instead focuses on my statement, saying, "Yeah, ha! Jeez, I don't know where I came up with that dumb-ass `alley-catting' term." We both side-stepped that potential awkwardness pretty well.
I'm curious what Rob really thinks about Dodger not visiting with him. I know what Dodger told me about not wanting to see his parents until he has an apartment and I guess I can see his point, but why not visit his brother when his parents aren't here? So I come right out and ask Rob if his feelings are hurt that Dodger hasn't been to see him, and he goes, "Oh no, not really. It's okay. Dodger and I talked about it and decided for purposes of deniability it's best he doesn't visit me behind our parents' back. They expected him to show up today. What the hell though, by tomorrow he'll have an apartment paid for and then he'll show up here. So, it'll be a week and a day later than we all originally expected he'd be home."
Yeah, Dodger's like Chubby in a lot of ways. Neither of them is a slave to the clock, or calendar in Dodger's case. Rob goes, "So I'll see him at the same time Mom and Dad see him. Dodger and I don't want them to know he's been home a couple of days already because they'd misinterpret it as being disrespectful or something. What's the big deal about him getting here a day or two later than planned anyway? I mean considering he's been away almost exclusively for two years?" I nod, muttering, "Huh," and Rob goes on, "By Dodger not seeing me I won't need to lie to Mom and Dad about it." I go, "Uh huh, you mentioned that. So Dodger's not being a prick about this; he's being considerate." Rob says, "Sort of, I guess. Oh hell, I can see his side of things. He's been on his own for two fucking years and moving back in here means obeying Mom and Dad's rules and being the little brother again. He promises he's gonna be real nice to them about everything though. He wants to have a good relationship with Mom and Dad but, um..." I interrupt to finish Rob's sentence, "But on Dodger's terms." Rob nods, "Yeah, on his terms."
Another minute of silence and then my curiosity gets the better of me and I'm like, "Not to pry, but what's been the, um, conflict between Dodger and your parents?" Robby says, "Well to start with, the day he turned eighteen he joined the Army behind their backs. It hurt them that he didn't even discuss it with them. It also screwed-up my lawn-cutting crew too, so that pissed Dad off big time. Mostly though it was the sneaking around behind everyone's back that we didn't appreciate. That and the arrogance he showed in the way he acted. But what's done is done so after a big family argument my parents took the high road and tried being supportive of Dodger. You remember the going-away-party and the party for him after basic training. So things were sort of smoothed-over but then Dodger didn't write or call home or even spend most of his 'leaves' at home. They call vacation a 'leave' in the Army." I mutter, "Yeah, I know," and he goes, "Anyway, that was disrespectful and hurtful to Mom and Dad and when I got on Dodger's case about it he was pissed-off at me too... um, again. He hasn't been home after that first leave for more than five or six days in two years. And that's with him having something like thirty-days off a year. He just didn't give a shit, acting totally independent while it was left for Mom, Dad, and me to try overlooking his callousness and self-centeredness." I've got nothing to add to that as Rob mumbles, "Frankly I personally don't think my parents will care that he's gonna live away from home." I stupidly say, "Jeez, and they bought a new mattress for his bed too." Robby just shrugs and then snorts out a laugh, muttering, "Nobody gives a fuck about a mattress, Dylan." Huh, Dodger does sound like an ungrateful prick the way Robby tells it. I wonder if there's another side to the story.
While we're on the topic, I ask, "So is there still a quarrel between you and Dodger, or are you guys tight again?" Rob says, "We're not 'tight', no. We've had a peace treaty, sort of, and being brothers we'll get along like the majority of brothers do, I suppose. Competitive as usual, but I guess we're okay." I go, "That's a far cry from being, um, really close like when you guys were younger." Dangerous territory here skirting the incest issue. Rob goes, "Yeah, when we were kids we were very tight. We all grow-up though and see thing differently. Oh fuck, let's face it he's basically a know-it-all, Dylan. I'm aware you're very fond of him and underneath everything I am too but he can be very self-centered and like I said, he thinks he's way smarter than he actually is. Like him having the fucking nerve to criticize our relationship... yours and mine. He doesn't know how to mind his own business and he's totally irresponsible too. And he fucked me up my first year as supervisor on that lawn cutting crew." Yeah, he already mentioned that a couple of times, but I let him vent. He adds a mumbling, "It made me look like a fool that my own brother didn't give me a heads-up that he had no intention of working for me that summer." I go, "That wasn't good. I gotta agree." Encouraged he adds, "And he told me 'tough shit' when I mentioned it to him." I make a 'face' like, 'That sucks', and he says, "Aw, I guess we get along okay now though, but that's mostly because I overlook all his misdeeds; ones that he never has apologized for." I'm not encouraging anymore of this because, fuck, it doesn't seem like they're friends at all. It's more like a toxic situation.
Ya know what I tell myself? Do not get any deeper involved in this Dickers' family drama, that's what I tell myself. I merely mumble, "Yeah, I see what you mean." And I do not ask the question that begs to be asked, which is: where does Rob think Dodger's going to get the money to live on his own when he doesn't even have a job? Does he think Dodger saved enough money from the Army to do all the stuff he claims he's going to do on his own, plus buy that motorcycle? I'm surprised Rob isn't wondering about that. I don't ask though because I already feel like a traitor not telling Rob about Dodger hitting the Vegas jackpot. I was sworn to secrecy and I hate keeping secrets from Rob... or Chubby.
Anyway, by now we're both getting a sugar-buzz from this very sweet half-a-cake and then washing it down with the sweet Cokes. After putting the empty cake-stand on Robby's bureau I get back on the bed and lay next to him, feeling dizzy. He's got his arm behind my neck again holding me against him. This is nice and I lay my head on his shoulder. We're quiet for a little bit and then, to completely change the subject, I murmur, "I'm getting a boner," and I am. We both get the giggles looking at the hill at the lap of my khakis. I mutter, "It's your sexy scent and the feel of your tight body, Rob." He goes, "Ya think?" and he bumps the mound at my lap with his hand. I go, "It's rigid." and we chuckle some more.
We relax and quietly watch my boner go flat. I look at him and say, "I know you said to wait until you are well enough to come over to my place for a haircut, but let me at least cut the hairs hanging over the tops of your ears. It's freaking me out because I'm not used to seeing you look untidy." He grins, "Untidy? Where'd ya get that word?" Shrugging, I go, "It's a word!" He says, "Okay, but put something around me so the hair clipping don't get under my pajama top and itch me all night. I had a shower a couple of hours ago." Nodding, I slide off the bed, asking, "Are those barber scissors still in the hall bathroom?" He says, "I think so, but they're not really barber scissors, are they?" I go, "Yeah, they have that curlicue at the end of one handle." He goes, "Curlicue?" I'm like, "It's technically called a 'tang'. It's a finger rest." He shrugs, muttering, "Whatever," and I go into the bathroom to look for the scissors.
I find the scissors in a basket with other grooming items including one of those battery-operated gadgets for cutting nose hairs, ugh! Bringing the scissors and a hand towel I tell Rob, "Come over here, sit on your desk chair." He gets out of bed and sits down, saying, "I like when you fuss over me." I go, "I also like being fussed over, but only by the right individual," and I tell him about Eileen at the office as an example of me not liking being fussed over. He laughs, "I don't blame her one bit, babe. You're irresistible to guys and girls." I mutter, "Ain't it the truth though," and we both chuckle at my conceitedness.
When I put a towel on Rob's shoulders he grips it tightly in front of his neck so hair clippings can't get under the towel. It takes two minutes to outline around his ear and behind them with the scissors but naturally I don't stop there. Using the scissors-over-comb technique I give Rob a full haircut taking my time and stretching it out so it lasts twenty minutes. I like cutting his hair. Neither of us talks and it's cool hearing the, "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch," of the scissors cutting through Rob's dry, clean hair. When done it's a short regular-style haircut with a part on the left and tapered at the neck. In the front I comb up a little gay pompadour... cute! With a quick hug on his shoulders, I mutter, "All done, Rob." He reaches back getting his arm around the back of my necks, murmuring, "It's torture not being able to share sex with you." I mutter, "Yeah, I agree."
I straighten-up and then carefully remove the hand towel from his shoulders, keeping as much of the hair on the towel as I can. Rob's bedroom window looks out over the side yard so I open the window and shake the towel getting most of the blond hair clippings drifting away on a light breeze. Rob's looking at himself in the mirror over his bureau, saying, "Nice job, Dylan!" He's not a hairstyle aficionado so he says the same thing after almost every haircut I've ever given him. I tell him, "Some hair stylists use clippers sparingly, and for your haircut I didn't use them at all for the obvious reason we don't have clippers here. And then there's the latest fad-haircut, the kind Golden Summer does a bad job of imitating, and those barbers use clippers exclusively or almost exclusively." He gets back in bed, saying, "You have an encyclopedic knowledge of haircutting." My cellphone dings telling me there's a text message. As I'm getting my phone out of my pocket, I say, "Haircutting is something I have a great interest in."
The text is from Chubby: 'Bro, where are you? I've been home over an hour.' I call him and tell him where I'm at. He says, "Say 'Hi' to Rob for me and, um, you've got the car, bro, so you need to shop for our dinner." I tell him that Dodger will probably be joining us for dinner and that I'm going to text him to go to his, Chub's, condo, not mine, adding, "I'll be leaving Rob's shortly, Chub, so whaddaya want for dinner?" We decide on the old standby: roast chicken. After ending the phone call I text Dodger saying if he's coming for dinner to meet me at Chubby's place.
Looking up from my cellphone, I say, "I gotta get going, Rob, but I'll be back tomorrow. Anything you want me to tell Dodger?" Rob shrugs, "Tell him 'Hi' and that I love him." I go, "Aw, that's nice." After a little hug 'goodbye' I take the cake-stand and Coke cans downstairs where I see Mr. Dickers sipping on a cocktail in the family room. He doesn't see or hear me tip-toeing down the stairs, but in the kitchen Mrs. Dickers is peeling potatoes. She's kinda friendly, "Hi there, Dylan. Oh my, you boys finished that entire cake!" Putting the cake stand back where it was, I do my automatic friendly smile, saying, "That cake was so good we couldn't stop eating it." She goes, "Oh, I'm happy you boys liked it. I baked it yesterday. So, how's Rob today?" I go, "He's about the same. Ya know, in okay spirits and I gave him a haircut. We had a nice visit." She says, "Oh good. His Dad mentioned to me that Rob was looking a bit shaggy." What the fuck did he think Rob could do about it when he can barely get out of the fucking bed? I don't mention that though. Instead I'm like, "I was happy to do it for Robby."
Turning the flame on under a pan of peeled potatoes, she says, "Good. Um, Rob's friend, Danny Monday, called a little while ago saying he's going to stop-in to see Rob," and right on schedule there's a knock at the door. She smiles brightly, "There he is now." Wiping her hands on her apron she opens the door with an overly friendly greeting, "Danny, C'mon in. Rob will be so glad to see you. Um, Dylan's here," and she gives Danny a hug as he says, "Hey, hi, Mrs. D.. Hi, Dylan." We bump fists as I say, "I'm on my way out, Danny." He asks, "Where you gonna be later? Maybe we can have a beer or something." I nod, "I'll text you," as I make my escape. As I'm going out the door I hear Mrs. Dickers saying, "Hope you like meatloaf, Danny. That's what we're having for tonight's dinner." I never get to hear if Danny likes meatloaf or not because the door closes. Walking to the Jeep I'm wondering what's the deal with those two? Rob didn't say anything about Danny having dinner there tonight. He didn't say anything about Danny coming over either. Huh.
That's okay, I'm glad Danny's visiting Rob. I've got visitors too. At Stop & Shop I pick-up a quart of premium vanilla ice cream, a five-pound-chicken at asale price per-pound, a box of 10-minute Minute Rice, a medium-size zucchini, and a head of green cabbage for coleslaw. Doing a self-check-out the groceries total: $24.80. The chicken's big enough for tonight's dinner plus at least two lunches for me. One lunch of thinly-sliced left-over chicken breast and then I'll make chicken salad with the rest of the chicken, mostly thigh meat probably. Next stop is at the gourmet bakery that's two stores down from Stop & Shop. Looking at the delicious pies and cakes, hmmm? Well I just ate a quarter of a cake so I decide on a blueberry pie that we'll serve with vanilla ice cream for dessert. This is a low cost, minimal prep-time dinner. Making the pan-drippings gravy will be the only pain-in-the-ass aspect of the meal and Chubby makes great gravy with the help of a packet of McCormick's Chicken Gravy Mix used for a thickener, and for added flavor.
Parking the Jeep behind the condo I take everything to my place first. Taking a quick look out our front window I see Dodger's big motorcycle parked at the curb below the condos, so he's at Chubby's already. After cleaning-up in the bathroom and changing clothes I take the groceries up to Chubby's condo. He lets me in and takes the two plastic bags of groceries from me smiling his special smile as he goes, "Hey, thanks, bro!" I pat his shoulder and then do a quick hug with Dodger, who says, "Look at this, Dylan." He's excited about showing me a brochure picture of what a new apartment development that's located conveniently at the Natick/Framingham line will look like when it's completed. I go, "Wow, cool looking place, Dodger! Is that where you rented your apartment?" He nods and points to where his apartment will be. It's a one bedroom, bath-and-a-half-apartment with a gas fireplace in the living room that you can also see from the eat-in kitchen. He goes, "And there's a garage that goes with this apartment." I'm like, "Jeez, what's that place rent for?" Dodger goes, "The rent is $1900.00 a month and I paid for a year in advance plus the one-month's security deposit." Chubby goes, "Holy shit, you gave them almost twenty-five-thousand-dollars?" Chubby could always do math in his head. Dodger goes, "Yep, and it's my place as of Friday. I guess they want to be sure the check doesn't bounce."
Chubby's giving me a frowning 'look' like, 'What the fuck?' I shrug without commenting because I promised Dodger I wouldn't tell anyone about him winning the jackpot in Vegas. I wish he hadn't told me! Now I feel like a traitor to Chub and Rob by keeping that newsflash from them. I'm gonna talk Dodger into taking both Rob and Chubby into his confidence about the jackpot. After what Rob said though I'm not sure Dodger will do it. Rob painted an unflattering picture of Dodger's behavior the past couple of years. It's disappointing but I've decided to reserve my opinion until I hear if there's another side to the story.
As I'm unwrapping the chicken, to make conversation, I ask Dodger, "Was Vinnie with you all day?" He goes, "Yeah, I dropped him at his house an hour ago. We did some furniture shopping and I got some really cool shit. I'm wicked excited about this whole deal," and he breaks out with a big grin. Well yeah, for guy's our age having our own apartment is a very big fucking deal indeed! I remember freshman year and how giddy Rob, Chubby, and I were in our college apartment. It's just so cool having your own place. I'm like, "And how was Vinnie today?" Dodger chuckles, "Vinnie was very good. Pretty excited too." I go, "Gee, I'd like to have seen that. I don't believe I've ever seen an excited Vinnie." Dodger grins, "Yes, he's kinda low-key most of the time." Chubby and Dodger were drinking bottles of beer when I came in but I'm not in the mood for beer right now so I get a Pepsi and watch Chubby shredding the cabbage for coleslaw. Dodger and I sit at the kitchen bar. Chubby's condo is directly over mine and it's exactly the same size except the layout is reversed. The hall to our bedrooms is to the right of the living room and Chub's hall to their bedrooms and baths is to the left when you walk in the front door. And the other difference is Chub's and Tris's condo doesn't come with a garage like the first floor condos.
The oven beeps telling us it's preheated to 350 degrees so I plop the chicken in a roasting pan and it goes in the oven. Chubby finishes the coleslaw and I dice the zucchini that will be sauté when Chub's making the gravy and the rice is cooking. Done the prep work we all have a cigarette on the balcony with Dodger muttering, "Damn, I just realized my apartment doesn't have a balcony." I go, "That blows," and he shrugs, asking me, "No beer today, Dylan?" I go, "I guess I'll switch to beer after I finish this Pepsi. So what kind of furniture did you buy?" He describes what he bought and it sounds like what you'd expect a guy to get for his apartment. Leather sofa and a Barcalounger recliner to sit in while watching his new big flat screen high-definition TV. He also bought an Apple laptop computer, a bedroom-set that includes a double bed and two bureaus with mirrors, plus a desk and chair. Tomorrow he still needs to buy lots of kitchen items, bathroom items, and lamps, and who knows what else. Oh, I know, he needs to buy all new clothes too. He left his old ones in Vegas and borrowed some of mine to wear today. I guess there's only so much you can transport on a motorcycle.
Chubby, who is no dummy, is looking suspiciously at Dodger and then finally says, "Okay, what's the story here, Dodger. The rent, furniture, and electronics you bought today amounts to somewhere in the vicinity of forty-grand, and all paid with cash. Plus you've got a twenty-thousand-dollar hog of a motorcycle parked at the curb. You didn't make that much money from two-years of Army pay, and that's assuming you didn't spend a penny of it, which knowing you is impossible." Dodger goes, "I was in Las Vegas, for chrissakes." Chubby goes, "And you won big I suppose." Dodger says, "As a matter of fact I did! A hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar jackpot of which, after taxes, my winnings amounted to over a hundred-grand." Partial truth is better than none at all, I suppose. Chubby looks at me, "Do you believe him?" I shrug, "I guess I have to or else what's the alternative, he robbed a bank?" Chubby says, "I'm leaning that way, yeah." Dodger laughs, and mutters, "I won a fucking jackpot. People do win, ya know." Chubby says, "Congratulations, ya hot-shit!" They high five and then Chubby goes, "Dylan and I need a second car, so...?" I go, "I already tried that, Chub. He said for us to get a car loan."
We talk about Dodger's experience in Vegas for twenty-minutes. Most people don't know anyone who has won a lottery, which is basically what Dodger did. He's admitted his winnings partially, which he'd have pretty much had to do anyway or how else to explain buying all that stuff? Damn, it is exciting to think about winning a lot of money though and we all act appropriately excited about it for Dodger. What the fuck, winning a hundred-thousand is something to be excited about... especially when actually he won more than three-times that. Dodger looks at me with a little grin and I nod my head that he's pretty clever admitting the partial amount. It explains everything plus gives him an explanation for going half-the-summer without working. Or maybe it won't take that long before he gets a job or start his unknown business. Unknown to him too as of now.
The dinner turns out really well and after cleaning up Chubby calls his friend, Jay James, who claims he's a distant relative of the infamous Jesse James. I call Danny, and Dodger calls Vinnie. Those three guys come over and we play poker and drink beer until ten-thirty. Danny glances at me a few times with a look in his eyes like he wonders if we can maybe sneak a fuck in somehow tonight. There's no way that'll work and even though it's usually something I'd want to do, with Dodger spending the night I don't mind missing this opportunity with Danny. And I say that even though I'm liking Danny more and more as I'm getting to know him better. With Rob out of circulation though it's Dodger who is on my mind presently.
Some of us have work tomorrow so we call last-hand and, all in all, it's a really good time tonight. The guys take off and Dodger walks Vinnie to his car while Danny sort of loiters until I just shake my head, muttering, "Sorry, Danny, not tonight but please let me have a rain check." He goes, "No problem," and we do a little hug 'goodnight'. He grins, saying, "One big happy family, right?" I nod, "Uh huh," and he kisses me on the lips, letting it linger. Okay, he's hot and he gets my boner stirring. He pats my cheek, saying, "Rob asked me to look out for you while he recovers." Damn, that's so nice and I like Danny's, um, manner too. He's sort of taking charge. I go, "Yeah, that's a good idea Rob had there." He says, "You want to, don'cha?" I nod my head too fast, mumbling, "Absolutely, Danny," and sort of awkwardly hug him again. He grins, "Me too. Thanks for calling me tonight. It was fun." I pat his shoulder as he leaves. Damn, Danny has a hot body. Rob's lucky.
A couple of minutes later Dodger's back chuckling about something, so I ask him, "What's so funny?" He goes, "Oh nothing except Vinnie said something to me a minute ago, very seriously, and I have no idea what two of the words he used even mean." I mumble, "Oh good, it's not just me that happens to." He shakes his head, muttering, "Vinnie's very entertaining without knowing it." I ask, "So, is he going to live with you in the apartment?" We're walking to the bedroom with Dodger shaking his head, "No way, Dylan. I think Vinnie's awesome but we can get on each other's nerves if we spend too much time together." I'm like, "Really? I never noticed that." He says, "Well, I guess you've been lucky enough not to be with us when we start getting on each other's nerves. Did you know he had a steady boyfriend at college?" I shake my head, "No, he didn't say anything about a boyfriend to me. I mean, when he was here for a haircut last week." Dodger goes, "Well, he had a boyfriend at college and until a few months ago he had one here too. An older dude, like thirty-five or something. I encouraged him to get a real boyfriend before I joined the Army." I go, "No shit? I guess I never gave that much of a thought, but it makes sense since you were away for two years. Um, do you wanna take a shower?" Dodger goes, "No, not right now. I was thinking we'd shower together after I fuck you, assuming you want me to."
We're in the bathroom now. I'm putting toothpaste on my electric toothbrush and Dodger's taking a piss, asking, "Well, do you want to? Have sex I mean." Huh, ya know I'd love to say something like... 'Nah, I'm not feeling it tonight.' But why lie? I go, "Yeah, sure I do, Dodger." He chuckles, muttering, "Yeah, me too." Done with our bathroom necessities we're in the bedroom getting undressed with me still surprised about Vinnie and Dodger getting on each other's nerves, so I go, "Jeez, I always thought Vinnie idolized you. He even wanted me to give him what he thought was an Army haircut. You getting on his nerves never entered my mind as a possibility." Dodger goes, "I'm not so sure about him idolizing me and it's probably more accurate to say Vinnie gets on my nerves at times rather than the other way around. I've never lied to him though. He knows I'm not in love with him and it's highly unlikely I ever will be. I love him as a friend for sure though, and we've always had a close gay friendship... with benefits."
Gee, Dodger's a hard case alright! Poor Vinnie, although I did speculate his was probably an unrequited love. Who am I to scrutinize their arrangement though? I mean considering Rob's and mine being so far out there and all! Even though we're in love it's fine if either of us wants to screw around on the side. Weird yeah, but it's worked for us pretty well for over four-years now. It wouldn't work for many other lovers I don't imagine, if any. Sometimes, and I hate when I think this way, but sometimes I wonder if we're really still in love or if by now we're merely in the habit of being in love with each other. Does that thought even make any sense? Jesus, I hate that I over-analyze everything!
Dodger and I are naked when he exclaims, "Omigod, Dylan, you've got the perfect body." I go, "Get outta here! I know a lot of guys with hotter bodies, including yours." He grins, "Well yeah, mine's hotter," and he chuckles at that, and then adds, "Seriously though, there's no way you've seen as many naked guys as I have. I mean in the Army and I can't think of one with the perfect proportions of, um, well everything about your body. Heh heh, I like the shaved pubes too." I go, "So why don't you shave yours?" He's like, "That's way too gay for me, but good on you." I mutter, "I don't even know how the fuck to take that." He smacks my ass, "SMACK!" saying, "Believe me when I say you're pretty much perfect the way you are, Dylan, and I'm dead serious about that!" I nod my head smirking at him and muttering, "Bull shit." He goes, "No, I'm serious. You and I are going to be living together eventually and if you want I'll tell you about your hot body every day... because it's true." I shake my head slowly, but what's there to say about that? I mean, I'm not going to be living with him.
Dodger notices he hasn't baited me into that discussions, so he adds, "We won't be getting married of course... that'd be stupid. I guess we'll be what's referred to as each other's significant other. Ha ha, that term is so fucked... significant other." I can't resist now, I have to say, "You know very well we're not going to be living together, Dodger. Why do you say shit like that?" He grins at me, "We'll see. For now get up on the bed like I showed you." Hesitating, I ask, "Is that the only position you fuck in?" He says, "No, but it's how I want to fuck you for a while and then we'll change when I think it's the right time. For now it's good to get in a routine where we both know what our role is." Why not? I'm like, "Yeah, I guess," not sure what he means by that.
When I start getting on the bed, he goes, "No, wait. Jesus, I forgot about spanking you. How about if you lay your chest on the mattress with your feet on the floor and your ass sticking up. How could I forget you like being spanked. You do want a spanking, don't you?" Oddly enough I do enjoy a good spanking, but I manage to lie, "No, I don't want my ass spanked, Dodger, so..." and he goes, "Liar! It heightens your submissive sense." That makes me snort out a chuckle and asks, "How do you know so much?" He goes, "I know you pretty well, Dylan." I nod, muttering, "Well you're the dominant 'top' so you should know you're supposed to insist on spanking me, not me agreeing to it. That's how the game is supposed to be played." He grins, mumbling, "Okay, whatever you say, Dylan."
When I'm in position with my chest on the bed and my ass pushed up he gives my ass an initial three hard smacks, "Smack! Smack! Smack!" and then says, "I hate doing this, but..." and then "SMACK!SMACK!SMACK!" sounds ring out in the bedroom for a full minute or so. A minute or so that seems longer as each second passes until finally my hands go back to ward-off another smack as I go, "OW, Fuck, that's too much! Stop!" He stops, and says, "For chrissakes, all ya gotta do is tell me to stop! I don't know how much is the right amount." My ass feels hot and stings like wild fire as Dodger helps me up and hugs my shoulders saying, "Don't be angry, tell me when to stop next time, okay?" I'm definitely feeling submissive now as Dodger mumbles, "Go ahead, Dylan, get up on the bed like I showed you before." As I'm doing that, he goes, "Whoa, look at that smacked ass of yours. You're really something." Yeah, it's a very nice submissive sense I'm feeling now.
Dodger's pulling the covers and top sheet down as I get on the bed on my hands and knees. With a fake grumpy expression on my face, I mutter, "I've had worse spankings than that." He goes, "Oh, okay, I'll do it some more." I cover my butt cheek with both hands again, saying, "NO! I was just kidding." We both snicker. Everything with Dodger is laughs and sex. He hops up on the bed and walks on his knees to the headboard, pushing me a little bit towards the bottom of the mattress so he has room to kneel in front of me. Holding his fat dick out, he goes, "This is great, huh, Dylan?" I smirk at him and then take his penis from his fingers. Pressing it up against his belly I lick his nut-sack and then up the shaft of his penis about ten times before sucking the head into my mouth. Nice mouthful!
Running his fingers through my hair, Dodger's saying, "Vinnie did a really good job sucking my dick after lunch," and he chuckles. I grin around his cock, my eyes at the top of their sockets. He smiles down at me, saying, "Not as good as you though. Nobody does it as good as you." His cock's getting hard now and, as I noticed before, it is a little longer than Rob's but not enough to make a big difference. It's also occurs to me too how similar the brothers smell even though there is a subtle difference. I'm on my elbows slurping and licking his boner that quickly becomes hard enough so that I can lean my head at the proper angle and take the head in my throat. His boner isn't long enough to get more than the head in there, but it really bulges-out my pharynx, which is the fancy word for 'throat'. There's the usual urge to gag but I'm experienced enough to control that.
Bobbing on the head of his boner a few times is all it takes for Dodger to pull back, gasping and saying, "That's good, I'm good!" He shuffles over to the side of me and starts walking back on his knees to get behind me, saying, "Jeeesusss, Dylan, I almost spunked in your mouth. You turn me on, dude, but then you always have! You're so fucking cute too!" Dropping my face on the pillow I'm busy slurping on a big drool of his pre-cum and not paying too much attention to his chatter.
Glancing back at him I see his fat boner is so hard it's sticking straight out from his pubic patch. My boner is tightly up against my belly and I'm feeling really good. I'm not in a serious trance but I'm definitely feeling a submissiveness to my 'top'. It's a different feeling with Dodger though. With my face on the pillow, my forearms on either side, I feel the pre-cum-wet head of his cock poking my asshole and then he rubs the pre-cum around the lips back there before doing a hard thrust that has me gasping and my body stiffening against the pain. A second, harder, thrust gets his crotch tight against my butt cheeks as a flaring fire of pain goes off in my head. I don't know if it's just my imagination but the pain seems less this time and it's dying out quicker than his earlier abrupt entries. As usual Dodger's rubbing his hands up and down my sides and over my back and then massaging my shoulders, saying quietly, "You're the best damn sex partner I've ever had, Dylan. You don't complain, you don't give me any shit, and best of all you seem to enjoy it as much as I do. I love that!" I go, "Mmmm," as my rectum is getting used to Dodger's way of fucking.
After a short period allowing my rectum to begin adjusting to his fat cock he does his normal half-dozen hard thrusting taking full control of my rectum and then he leans over and gets his hand under me to wraps his fist around my boner. Pulling it out straight, away from my belly he synchronizes stroking my boner with thrusts of his fat cock up my ass. Almost immediately it gets hypnotizing and incredibly pleasurable. Yeah, and very dominant too. It's certainly not a revolutionary move or something that hasn't been done many times before, just not recently in my experience. It's doubling sensations and making me squirm under his chest that's fully resting on my back now. Even though he's only stroking and thrusting at a medium speed I'm thinking I won't last long before blowing my load.
It's thrust/stroke, thrust/stroke for a couple of delicious minutes as I moan quietly. He slows it all down to a crawl now making me anticipate the next feel of his hard boner traveling up my ass along with the stroke of my boner with the foreskin dragging over and then off the super-sensitized swollen-head of my cock. I'm feeling Dodger's steady moist exhales on the back of my neck as sensations ripple over me making me shudder. It's seems very quiet without the slapping sounds of our bodies smacking together. Ooh fuck, his fist on my cock and his boner in my ass are moving so slowly now and I want to cum so badly I start quietly whimpering, "Dodger, ooh, ooh, Dodger, aaah, oooh," and he goes, "Shhhh, shhh," with the agonizingly slow strokes and thrusts going on for another five almost torturous minutes except it feels so fucking good too. And then Dodger starts breathing noisily, murmuring, "I'm gonna cum," and he does fast stroking and thrusting now, "Slapslapslap," and we climax together with a supernova going off in my head... an explosion of colors as I make my squeal that's muffled in the pillow.
Gasping and moaning, my hips hump out another good stream of cum that hits the pillow below my chin making a quiet, "Thud" sound like a water stream from a garden hose hitting a pile of clothes. Dodger is tight against my ass humping his cum up there and making noisier breathing sounds. Clenching the muscles in my stomach and ass gets drools of cum sliding out of my hard cock and running down his fist that surrounds it tightly. There's a wonderful buzzing all over me and then I'm done, and as usual after a strong climax I feel docilely weak. My ass slumps down and my body gets limp. Dodger lifts off my back and does lazy thrusts in the cum he shot up my ass for maybe a minute more. That feels really good too.
Pulling his cock from my ass, leaving my asshole gaping open, Dodger hooks his right arm around the side of my neck as he falls on his side pulling me over against his chest. We're both on our sides with his arm around the front of my neck now and I feel his heart beating against my back. He rolls over on his back pulling me with him as I'm still limp and offering no resistance. I twist around a little so the side of my head is on his chest and his arm is again on the side of my neck. We lay like this, his chin touching the top of my head, Dodger still breathing deeply.
I do a little more rustling getting comfortable with neither of us saying anything. It feels nice being held like this with his one arm. I hear his heart pounding under my right ear that's flat on his hairless chest. His left hand is lazily playing with my hair again until finally he murmurs, "You smell so fucking good it's stupid. It's, um, impossible anyone's natural scent could smell this good." He murmured that so quietly I could barely hear him. Finally after maybe another five-minutes, I ask, "Aren't we gonna take that shower?" He sits up bringing me with him and without him even straining. He grabs the covers pulling them over us as he lays back down dragging me along for the ride. He adjusts the cover and quietly says, "Nah, we'll take our shower in the morning. Go to sleep." I can feel his cum drooling out of my ass and it has to be dripping on his leg, but if it doesn't bother him then it doesn't bother me.
I need to get more comfortable though and since Dodger's apparently not taking his arm away from my neck I can only squirm enough to get turned over half-way so part my stomach and chest are on his with my left leg between his legs. Dodger's lying flat on his back just like he slept last night. Huh, I guess I'm his binky tonight. We're both naked of course but even with wet cum spots here and there on the sheet it's surprisingly comfortable. I'm thinking Dodger smells good too and I should return his compliment except I don't feel like talking. Maybe I'm in one of my submissive trances; I really don't know.
The next thing I'm aware of is lots of daylight streaming through the bedroom window on this Wednesday morning. Dodger's lifting my left hand to look at my watch, saying, "It's 6:19, Dylan. What time do you need to get up?" My leg is still between his legs and I've got a boner pressed between the outside of Dodger's right leg and the inside of my left leg. I'm partially still on top of him almost like I was when I fell asleep. Very odd that I didn't move while sleeping! His arm isn't around my neck anymore though so I lift my head off his shoulder, mumbling, "Um, any time between six-thirty and seven." He rubs my head, saying, "This is close enough, huh? We might as well get up." I nod, muttering, "I guess," and he asks, "Would you like some sex this morning?" I nod my head, still half asleep, "Sure," and he says, "Well, pull the pillow over to the side a little and, um, well you know what to do."
I slide over pulling the pillow with me; it smells like Dodger. I get on my knees with my ass pushed up. Dodger kicks the covers to the bottom of the bed as he's stroking his cock and then getting up on his knees. He gets behind me while doing a big noisy yawn that makes me yawn too. After a hard, "SMACK!" on my ass, he rubs the head of his cock from one of my butt cheeks to the other passing right over my asshole. He murmurs, "Soft skin, Dylan, and there's not a hair on your ass... that's fucking amazing. Smooth plump, firm butt cheeks." I go, "Uh huh," and he pushes the head in past my sphincter muscle with very little pain and then he follows immediately with two hard thrusts that cause pain but not for long. I grit my teeth for like thirty-seconds and the pain hangs on for a bit and then retreats until it feels good back there. I'm filled up nicely and again feeling good all over.
Dodger rubs my back for a minute, saying, "We'll do a fast version this morning. A good old-fashion monkey-fuck, doggy-style," and then, gripping my hips, he fucks my ass so fast and hard it's takes my breath away at first, and I like, "Wha...? Um, ooh, ooh!" The slapping sounds ring out, "Slapslapslap." They didn't wake Mom before so we're going all out. Truth be told the sounds probably can't even be heard outside the bedroom door. The slapping just seems loud to my ears, and does it ever sound and feel good! My prostate is ringing out pleasure sensations like I can hardly believe.
Lifting my face off the pillow slightly, my eyes are wide open as I'm making, "Ah, ah, ah," sounds with every fast thrust up my ass. His fat boner has every nerve ending in and around the lips of my anus singing along with my ringing prostate and it's a fast, hot thrill ride of sexual pleasure. "Slapslapslap," with incredible sexy sensations dominating my world. It feels so fucking gooooood! "Ah, ah, ah, ah," with Dodger grunting and straining to go faster as his climax builds and builds. It's probably only two-or-two-and-a-half-minutes of exotic hot sex with me swaying to and fro from the delicious pounding I'm taking in my ass before my climax comes roaring on me, and I do mean roaring on me, only to explode almost immediately. Like a speeding train coming up to a station and VOOM it's flying by and disappearing up the tracks. That was my orgasm; gone almost before it got here.
Overloaded stimulations confuse my brain as I struggle to acknowledge all the sensations associated with cum spewing from my cock. I'd dropped my face on the pillow so my intense orgasm-squeal was fortunately muffled again. Because of the roaring in my ears when my explosive climax hit me I didn't even hear Dodger's exclamation when his orgasm hit him, but it must be over now because he's just laying against my ass with both hands on my back supporting himself as he quietly moans, "Ooh, fuuuck, Omigod that was good." I'm still catching my breath and enjoying the sipping zings of pleasure in my rectum and around my pecker. It makes my shoulder shudder as I go, "Mmmm, oooh fuck."
Dodger pulls his cock out and smacks my ass, taking a big exhale, and then asking, "Where's that lubricant you mentioned when I first got here?" I'm like, "Lube? Why...?" and he goes, "Where is it?" I nod at the bedside table and Dodger pulls the drawer out and picks the tube up as he grips my arm just above my elbow and pulls me with him to the bathroom, saying, "We'll take that shower now." He puts the lube on the shelf in the shower stall and, still holding onto my arm, he adjusts the water temperature. When steam billows-up in the bathroom he steps under the water pulling me along too. When he's sopping wet he gets me directly under the heavy flow of water, saying, "I'll bath you, if that's okay with you." I nod my head, feeling a little submissive trance coming on.
Dodger pours shampoo on my head and, using both hands, gives my head and hair a vigorous shampoo and massage. Taking a clean washcloth from the little pile on the shelf at the other end of the shower stall he fills it with bath gel, muttering, "Close your eyes," and begins a rough washing from my face and ears down to my toes. It only takes like three-minutes. I'm moved here and there, and then he lifts my arms one at a time and doesn't hesitate washing my genitals and down my legs and up the back paying ten-seconds worth of attention to my ass. Pushing me fully under the shower flow he turns me around and lifts my arms. I don't do anything except be limp.
When I'm almost drowned, he gets the lubricant tube and spreads lube on his cock. I watch with big eyes as he strokes a boner on his penis and then pushes me up against a glass wall and shoves his hard cock up my ass. It slides in easily with no pain at all. My ass barely closed from the fucking we did ten-minutes ago. Now it's a slow, very slow fucking with Dodger tight against my back, his arms around me with only his hips moving slowly. It becomes hypnotic to me, like it was last night. After a while his fat cock sliding tightly but smoothly back and forth gets my rectum feeling lusciously sensitized. The prostate sensation are coming off in slow-motion and my anus sparkles with pleasure. There are tantalizing minor electric sparks buzzing sexily all over me and I lose track of time as my mind concentrates on only one thing: Dodger's hard fat boner giving me pleasure that hovers gently around and all over us. It's everywhere I know and I'm moaning like I'm in a dream. It's the painless kind of pleasure and it'd be nice continuing like this forever. My cock's hard again and up against my stomach; I rub it and moan. It's like Dodger and I have become a single being; a pleasure-being from somewhere in another dimension.
It's bliss and then I sense another orgasm at the same time Dodger must sense his because he does a repeat performance of the fast monkey fuck for a few seconds and my climax soars into my consciousness making me do a hissing exhale and then my body jerks as a little arc of cum pumps out; it's a tiny orgasm but it has my whole body shaking. Dodgers groans and bites my shoulder as he humps against my ass shooting his own little climax inside me. We both gasp and stand still for a minute and then with a long exhale Dodger steps back and his flaccid cock pulls out of my ass as we both go, "Oooh, mmm."
Another deep breath from Dodger as he pushes me under the shower flow again and uses the washcloth on my ass and then a wet "Smack!' on my ass. He turns me around and I'm like a mannequin moving only when he moves me. Dodger smiles, murmuring, "This was so fucking cool... You're so awesome and so special, Dylan," and he opens the door pushing me out. I stumble before getting my footing. He snorts out a laugh and says, "That was great, Dylan. Dry yourself and get dressed. I'll have a coffee with you before you leave for work." I'm still sort of in a trance so he snaps his finger laughing and saying, "Wake up!" I nod my head smiling back at him as I'm pulling a towel off the towel rack. Jesus, that was really something!
Clean, dried, and well-fucked I've got a smile on my face getting dressed. That was spectacular while it was going on but now I'm noticing my ass is sore. The lips of my asshole especially but it's sore inside too. Not enough that I need to walk funny but it's sore and that takes a little bit of the shine off the situation. But then a sore ass is a small price to pay for an extraordinary ( we had this morning. Damn!
to be continued...
Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
======================================================
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
========================================================
Hey guys, how about making a small (or large, go for it!) tax deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty. They could use your help covering the expenses inherent in maintaining a free story site this size. Easy directions about how to do that on their 'home page'. Thanks!
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html