Dylans Junior Year Summer

DYLAN'S SUMMER FOLLOWING HIS COLLEGE JUNIOR YEAR

Chapter 16

by Donny Mumford

Dodger's finishing his shower as I'm getting dressed for work on another Wednesday morning. Shaking my head slowly I'm smiling to myself 'cause, damn, that shower-sex with Dodger was off the fucking charts! The way he burst back onto the scene two days ago riding his new big-ass motorcycle and carrying a check for over three-hundred-thousand-dollars in his back pocket, I mean, holy shit, who does that? And since then he's had me on a forty-eight-hour sexual thrill ride that's been, um, surreal. Brings back memories of Willie and me in Key West. So, of course I feel really good this morning. Yeah, except for a hint of guilt because of Robby's condition; that's taking a little bit of the shine off things.

And then, out of the blue I think of Hayden and wonder what the hell is it that's special between us. Jesus, it must be something special for me to think of it right after having that great buddy-sex with Dodger. So why'd I think of Hayden just now? Do I think sex with him was superior to Dodger's? Wow, it's almost impossible to compare the two because they're so different. I mean the obvious difference is that Hayden and I did not have classic buddy-sex. There's lots of sexual heat involved resulting is some wildly making-out and then intense sex. It might just be a weird fluke brought on by a weird set of circumstances; circumstances neither of us understands yet. Heat like that can't last though, can it? That's what I'll find out in a week or two I guess.

In the meantime, I'd much rather think about the recent shower-sex created by Dodger, and that's what I do as I'm making my lunch. Oh man, it makes my shoulders do their little shudder remembering that tantalizingly slow fuck with water pouring down on us and me drifting in a sea of submissiveness. Dodger does excellent casual dominant sex, maybe the best of anybody I know. He insists he doesn't do sub/dom sex but I don't know what else to call it. Then, as I'm putting my lunch in the backpack Dodger steps out of the bedroom naked, calmly asking, "Can I borrow more of your clothes, Dylan. Do you mind?" Omigod, he has an incredibly hot body! And Jesus, just glancing at that fat fucking cock of his gives me shivers. I manage to nod my head, saying, "Sure, go ahead, use whatever you want." The clothes he borrowed yesterday are in the hamper with the rest my clothes that need washing.

I finish making a second mug of coffee as Dodger's sauntering into the kitchen wearing my Merrimack sweatshirt and sweatpants acting like nothing unusual happened this morning. He calmly says, "You look real nice, Dylan. Do you wear a tie to work every day?" I want a big hug from him... or something. There's been no kissing or affection between us at all; just the incredibly hot sex. But what am I saying? It's buddy-sex being done the correct way, meaning without a lot of hugs and kisses. The hugging and kissing is what I need to put the brakes on with Hayden. My mind is all over the place so I stammer, "Um, a tie?" I lift my tie and look at it as if I'm surprised I have it on, and add, "Oh, yeah, this fuckin' thing." and tell him how I overheard Carl and some doofus in the men's room deciding I need to wear a suit and tie to make me appear older. He mutters, "Losers," as he pours a lot of half-and-half in his coffee. Whoa, did he include me in that losers comment?

Forcing out a chuckle, I mutter, "Hopefully you're not including me with the losers." He makes a face like, 'What the fuck?' and says, "Dylan, you're about as far from a loser as it's possible to be. Fuck, are you kidding me?" Getting past that, I'm like, "So, whaddaya planning to do today?" He tells me he needs to do a lot more shopping for the apartment and for clothes to replace the ones he left in Vegas. He goes, "Like I told you, I shipped my uniforms and some of my clothes home via UPS, but I haven't been home yet, so...." and he grins, adding, "I didn't feel like going through the trouble of doing the UPS mailing from Vegas so I dumped my clothes in a Goodwill collection dumpster. I'd just won a pile of money so I was a little nuts." Nodding my head, I'm wondering what I'd do if I won all that money. He adds, "And I really do need to thank you again for letting me crash here with you and, you know, letting me borrow your stuff." Nodding again, I mutter, "No problem. Um, so are you still planning to register at a hotel for the rest of the week?" He swallows some coffee and says, "I'll probably just get a room at that big Framingham Motel off Route 9." I tell him, "Like I said before, you don't need to, Dodger. You can stay with me until you move into your apartment." He smiles, "Thanks, Dylan, I'd like that except Vinnie wants to spend a night with me." I go, "Oh sure, jeez, of course... Vinnie."

As we finish our coffees Dodger tells me about the spectacular suite the hotel comped him for in Las Vegas and how the motel room in Framingham is gonna be a major step down in class." I mutter, "Yeah, I'll bet." Why doesn't he at least comment on the great sex we've been having? I put our mugs in the dishwasher and, with me carrying my backpack and sports coat, we both go outside. As we're going down the steps we light cigarettes. Dodger takes a drag off his Marlboro and while exhaling, says, "You've been a fantastic host these last two nights, Dylan. Seriously, thanks a million, dude!" I go, "Sure thing, Dodger. Um, when will I see you again?" At the curb standing next to his motorcycle, he unlocks it, saying, "Oh, I'll be around. How 'bout I shoot you a text?" I nod, "Yeah, okay. Um, good luck with the shopping today." He gets on his motorcycle and laughs, "Yeah, or maybe I used-up all my luck in Vegas," and he fires up the motorcycle revving the engine with the mufflers' doing their loud rumbling roar. Dodger holds out his fist and I bump it with mine, "Awesome time with you, Dylan," and off he goes grinning back at me and giving me the finger. I chuckle and flash the finger back at him.

I watch him go until he cuts in front of a truck and then he's out of sight. Shrugging, I unlock the Jeep and get in with a sigh. The drive to work is the pain in the ass I expected, but it doesn't bother me too much because mostly I'm thinking about the last two days with Dodger. It's been a whirlwind of sexual delights! He's been in a fantastic mood too, but then why wouldn't he be? Winning that jackpot set him up for all the things he wants to do. Huh, but what would he have done if he hadn't won the jackpot? I need to ask him if he had a plan-B for how he expected to rent an apartment without a job?

At the office I follow the pattern established thus far: I leave my backpack and sports coat in the meeting room, drop off my lunch at the Human Resources' refrigerator, Eileen gets my coffee and donut and we exchange quips about when we're having that drink at the bar down the road, The Route 9 Tavern. I suppose I'll have to have a drink with her since we've talked about it so much. I'm not sure though if I'll tell her I'm gay. While it's not a secret, it's not something I run around telling everyone, 'Hey, did you know I'm gay?' When you get right down to it, it's none of their business. Sure, if someone asks I tell them. That's basically been the way I've approached being gay for the last couple of years, since coming 'out' to the Moms anyway.

So I've got another cup of coffee and a donut in my 'office' and then Carl pops in for two minutes to say 'Hi' and get his report. I gotta admit, ever since finishing my training Carl hasn't been a problem at all. Damn though, I do need to call Pony and give him the bad news that he can't visit this weekend. Nine o'clock is probably too early to call but I want to get this over with. I feel bad about backing-out but I simply can't have Pony at my place for a weekend when Rob's home. It's bad enough Dodger spent the last two nights with me.

Punching in Pony's number I need to wait through five ring tones before I hear, "Dylan? Hi!" I go, "Hi, yourself. Hey, you don't sound too good, Daryl." He says, "I'm sick in bed. My little brother got strep throat and I caught it from the little fucker. He was breathing all over me." I go, "Oh, dude, that really sucks! It's that nasty streptococcus bacteria, huh?" He goes, "You're so fucking smart! How'd you know about streptococcus?" Grinning, I go, "Whaddaya talking about? Every-fucking-body knows what causes strep throat!" and he laughs his boyish laugh and then coughs, mumbling, "Oh fuck, that hurt." I ask, "What are you taking for your throat?" He goes, "I was at the doctor's yesterday and got a prescription for antibiotics but it'll take a week to get over this damn thing," and he hesitates before finishing with, "So I can't come to visit you." I go, "Oh? And just when in the hell were you going to tell me that? I've got our weekend all planned out!"

What the hell... when opportunity presents itself why not jump on it. He whines, "I'm sorry, Dylan. You know how much I was looking forward to staying with you." I say, "Oh, that's okay, Daryl. No problem, we'll do it when you're better," and he goes, "Will you, for God's sake, please call me by my nickname! Nobody calls me Daryl except my Dad. Mom even calls me Pony... some of the time." I say, "I'll bet the doctor didn't call you, Pony!" He laughs, "No, she didn't. Hey, I miss you and, dude, do I ever need a hard spanking," and he laughs again. I go, "You seem okay to me except for your voice." I hear him yell, "Get outta here, ya filthy germ-carrier!" and then, "No, just kidding, Rickie. C'mon and climb in bed with me. Say hello to Dylan." I hear a mattress squeak and some rustling of covers and then a childish voice say a tentative, "Hello," and I go, "What's your name little fellow?" In the same little voice, he says, "Hey! I'm ten-fucking-years-old, asshole! I sound like this because I've got strep throat!" Heh heh, a little Pony, huh.

Pony gets back on the phone laughing, and then says, "Ricky's vocabulary is advanced for his age," and I hear a muffled couple of words from Ricky and then Pony's saying, "Ahh, I'm Ricky's idol," and then more muffled curse words and laughter. I go, "Yeah-yeah, well I'm at work, guys, so I'll let you two go through your dog-and-pony-act while I get some work done, okay?" Pony goes, "Oooh, that was clever using my nickname in a sentence. I never heard anything so clever before." He makes me laugh. I say, "Yeah, sure, I'll get back to you with another weekend for your visit." He's like, "Can I bring Ricky?" Chuckling, I go, "NO!" and he says, "I'll need a haircut too, ya know." I mutter, "Sure, we'll figure everything out." Pony says, "But don't hang up, Dylan! Let's talk some more." I yell, "I'm at work, Pony!" and now I hear a scratching at the door. Oh fuck, it's my first interview of the day. I say, "Seriously I gotta go. Sorry you're sick. Say goodbye to Rickie for me." He goes, "I still 'L' you." I mutter, "No you don't," and hit 'end'.

Trying to be upbeat, I'm like, "C'mon in," and look at my computer list, adding, "Debra." A young woman comes in all smiles, saying, "Actually it's, Debbie, and I'm close friends with Eileen." Oh Lord! And I'm off and running doing my summer job. The first interview with the 'close friend' of Eileen went better than expected. The next one is with an overly-happy young man named, Devon Mc Corty. I get through the first two points of the presentation and then look at him, asking, "You good with the first two changes, Devon?" He's smiling brightly as he says, "Oh sure, thanks. Hey, did you know there's a sign over every Canuck's urinal that reads, 'Please don't eat the big mint', eh?" Not sure that he means what I think he means, I chuckle and ask, "Big mint?" He goes, "You know, the round white urinal deodorizer thingie, eh?" Nodding my head, I go, "Oh yeah, that's what I thought you meant. Um, what's a Canuck?" He says, "A Canadian," and then asks, "What do they call a Canuck with an IQ of 167, eh?" I go, "I don't know," and he says, "A small village." I nod, muttering, "Huh," and continue my presentation.

About ten minutes later, when I take a breath, he grins like mad, saying, "Ya know why Canuck women have two holes so close together between their legs, eh?" Frowning, I shake my head and he goes, "So guys can carry them around like a six-pack or a bowling balls." I go, "Oh jeez, that's borderline disgusting," and he laughs saying, "Best way to catch a Canuck is to slam down the toilet seat when he's taking a drink." I go, "What have you got against Canadians, Devon?" He says, "Nothing, eh? I'm one myself. I'm from Dawson Creek, British Columbia. Emigrated here with my family as a teen aboot (sic) ten years ago." Aboot, huh? Nodding my head, I go, "And I guess those, um, jokes had your teen buddies laughing back in that creek you're from, huh?" He goes, "Oh yeah, us Canadians have a sense of humor, eh? American's are too uptight, don't ya think?" I go, "I don't really know about that. America is the only place I've lived. Maybe I'll get to Canada one day and check out their sense of humor." He goes, "It's awesome up there."

I finish the presentation, not that Devon paid much attention to it. I'm like, "Well, that the entire package. Whaddaya think?" He says, "Cool, it's all good, eh? Ya know why Canucks always wear a hat?" and then he answers his own question without waiting for me to reply, "So they don't flap themselves to death with their big ears in a wind storm." As dumb as that is I make the mistake of chuckling and he goes, "Did I tell you why women have two legs?" I shake my head and he goes, "So they don't leave a snail's trail on the hard wood floors, eh?" Making a 'face', I go, "Now that's just gross... disgusting!" He says, "It's all in good fun, eh?" Yeah well, aside from Devon, the morning presentations go very well and I'm feeling good! When you get off to a great start in the morning like I did, having sex twice, everything seems smoother throughout the day.

At lunch Marty West beats me to the dumpster picnic table, and he's very friendly, "Hi, Dylan. I like that tie!" Huh, a little brown-nosing right off the bat, but that's okay. I tell him, "Thanks, Marty, but I'd much prefer dressing casually like you do for work," and then add, "Actually I'm supposed to wear a suit. As a compromise I bring a sports jacket everyday although I never put it on." He obviously has something on his mind as he ignores my clothing comments and gets right to the point, asking, "Are we going to the Natick basketball courts to watch a couple of games sometime this week?" I shake my head, "Oh, I haven't given it much thought yet, Marty. They only play like two nights a week I think, and I'm not sure what the schedule is." He's eating his usual smelly tuna fish sandwich, saying, "Friday night they're playing. Would you wanna go?" Catching me off guard like that, I sputter, "This Friday, huh?" I'm trying to think fast, as he says, "I could pick you up if you need a ride." Oh, what the fuck, I shrug, "Um, sure that'd be good, but let me check on something first, okay? I'll know for sure tomorrow." I want to check to see what Chubby's doing Friday night before agreeing to go with Marty, although he's being very sociable and I like him okay so far. The pee on his fingers was probably an accident.

Unwrapping my first sandwich, I ask, "So, where will you be training next week?" He says, "I'll be working with Tyler, um, I forget his last name. The guy who's in charge of the grass cutting crews this year. First I'll be with the crews doing private homes and then the next week with the crew doing commercial and town properties." I go, "Oh yeah? I was on one of the private homes crew for a couple of summers and I liked it a lot. Being outdoors was, um, nice. Plus I got a sense of accomplishment leaving the homeowner's lawns and shrubbery looking good when we were done each time." He says, "It'll be a good change of pace from the mailroom. I was on snow plowing crews in February. Snow removal for the town. We had specific streets to plow. I learned how to operate the plows and that's trickier than I expected." I say, "I've never done that."

He goes on to tell me about personal stuff; how he and his sister were mostly raised by a single parent. It was his Mom who was the single parent, like it usually is. His father was a musician. He played the drums for a band in places like a Marriott Hotel lounge. Somewhere along the line his father developed a drinking problem. The straw that broke the back of his parent's marriage though was when his father started taking gigs with a band away from home for weeks at a time, and he wasn't too good about sending money back home. Everybody has a life story and all I can do is murmur, "Gee, I'm sorry. That sounds rough," and things like that. He goes, "Well my Mom is a lawyer so we weren't exactly poor or anything like that. The lousy part wasn't necessarily my parents divorcing, it was me needing to stay home after school to babysit my little sister. That's when I was in middle school and then though some of high school. That's the part that sucked."

Jeez, doesn't sound like a lot of fun for Marty growing up. Babysitting his little sister must have cut into a lot of the time he'd normally be spending with friends. When you're in your teen years friends are everything! Poor guy. I tell him, "Yeah, that doesn't sound like a lot of fun, Marty. Um, I too was raised by a single Mom. Two single Moms actually. My own and my Mom's best friend, who also had a baby and that baby turned out to be my best friend too, coincidentally." He goes, "What happened to your father?" I should never have gotten into this! I say, "He died before I was born," and I'm praying he doesn't ask what happened to my best friend's father. He doesn't, instead he changes the subject asking me if I know anything about cars? He describes the sound his car, a ten-year-old Chevrolet, makes when he drives over fifty-mile-an-hour. I can't help him with that.

My knowledge of cars is very limited but I patiently listen to him talk about his present car and the one he had before this one. He claims he has no luck with cars. Marty only takes a fifteen-minute lunch so, while car-talk is terminally boring to me, it doesn't last long. He takes a short lunch so at the end of the day he can leave a little early to beat the rush. I do the same thing except I take at least a half-hour for my lunch break. Being basically my own boss has its benefits.

We walk to the back door where I tell him, "See you later. Marty. I'm gonna have a smoke." He says, "I never picked-up that habit although my Mom smokes like a chimney." I mumble, "Huh. I'll get back to you about Friday night." He goes on his way and I wander around the picnic area being careful not to make eye contact with anyone. I'm thinking about Dodger and about him saying we'll be living together some day. I've told him we're not ever doing that and he just smiles and mutters, 'we'll see'. And if he really thinks that, what's he base it on? We don't even kiss. We have premium-octane buddy-sex and of course we're friends, but that's as far as it goes.

As I'm going inside to begin the afternoon presentations I get a text message from Rob: 'Sorry to disturb you at work, babe, but could you come over right after work? I'm going batty being here all day alone.' Yeah, that's right, his Mom works at the office on Wednesdays. Rob was in the empty house all day. Huh, I wonder what Mrs. Dickers does at work that she had to go in today? I text Rob that I'll be there around four-thirty and he tells me he'll leave the back door unlocked. The afternoon slides by nicely and then as I'm getting in the Jeep at four-fifteen I text Carl that I'm just about ready to wrap things up for the day. He doesn't even text back. Right on top of everything; that's my boss. Nothing gets by him!

Parking in front of Rob's house I walk around to the back door and go in, calling out, "Where are you Rob?' He calls from the family room, "I'm in here, Dylan." In the family room, he stands and we hug as he murmurs, "You feel so good I don't want to let go of you." I say, "Hey, you shaved!" as if that's an accusation of some hideous deed. He lets go of me chuckling, saying, "I had to! It was getting itchy and I like looking clean-cut." I mutter, "Yeah but you look sexy with a couple of day's growth of that scraggily sparse beard of yours. It's cool-looking and feels soft against my face." He rubs the pad of his finger across my pathetic mustache but doesn't say anything about it. I shave every three days now. I only need to deal with my embarrassment-of-a-mustache plus some chin hairs. My so-called beard does not look sexy or cool... yet.

I say, "Well, you look awesome with your new haircut, Robby, and you most definitely qualify as clean-cut." He mumbles, "Yeah and I also look almost as young as you now. My Mom said that this morning." I'm like, "She mentioned me specifically?" He goes, "Not specifically, but you're the youngest looking of my friends, that she knows anyway." She probably was referring to Danny. There's a book next to where Rob was sitting, so I ask, "What are you reading?" Rob looks at the book, "Oh, Dad recommended it. It's titled, 'Do Over' by Jon Acuff. I just started it. It's about creating the career you want for yourself. I'll lend it to you when I'm done if you want." I go, "Um, no, that's okay. Can I get a soda or something?" We both walk back to the kitchen where Rob opens a Pepsi for me. Handing it to me, he says, "Big doings tonight, babe. Dodger's having dinner with us. Do you wanna stay?" I go, "Um, tonight? Oh, I can't. Chub and are gonna do something, um, I think, but thanks for the invitation." The last thing I want is to be in the middle of a Dickers' family argument.

He tells me Dodger called his Mom yesterday afternoon and then he talked with his Dad at work too. We're walking back to the family room as Rob goes, "I talked to Dodger first of course. He wanted to test the waters and I told him to call Mom, there's zero tension around here." I'll bet there'll be some tension at dinner! We sit on the sofa together as I go, "It's about time Dodger called home. Did he tell you he rented an apartment and it's already mostly furnished? I mean when the stuff gets delivered." Rob nods, "Yeah, and he stayed with you again last night, didn't he?" I'm like, "Yeah, um, but I told you that he probably would; didn't I?" I might have said that too defensively because Rob goes, "It's okay. Why'd you snap a me like that?" Making a 'face' like I'm confused, I ask, "Did I snap at you? I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." He hugs me, "Oh fuck, snap all you want. I'm just really glad you're here. I'm going nuts being isolated from everyone."

Laying my head back on the sofa, I say, as if it's an afterthought, "Oh, I ran into Danny last night, um, as I was leaving your house." Rob sits up straight, "Oh, you saw him, did you?" I go, "Yeah, and he was staying for dinner, if I'm not mistaken." Rob goes, "Yeah, that's right, he did have dinner with us. And I asked you to stay tonight." I'm like, "Yeah, but it's Dodger's night to have dinner here." Rob goes, "You make it sound ominous." I shrug, "No, it's just, um, his visit with your parents is more like he's dropping in on an Aunt and Uncle instead of his parents." Rob says, "No, it's not like that. You and I already discussed this, Dylan. It's Dodger being Dodger, what can I say?" I go, "Yeah, you're right. So, what do you wanna do?" He goes, "I can't do what I wanna do, but," and he pulls my head over for a sweet kiss. I can't help but grin, mumbling, 'Damn, you're a hottie, Rob. I'd like to ravage your body, that's what I'd like to do." With his arm that's behind my neck he pulls me against him, saying, "Hugging will have to do for both of us." Gee, it's classy of Rob not to drop any insinuations on me about Dodger staying overnight with me again. I appreciate that, but can't tell him so because that would open the topic for discussion. Instead I give him some compliments and then lie, saying, "Ya know what? I do want to read that book on careers when you're done with it." He grins, "You won't read it," and we argue in good fun about that for a while.

Leaving his arm around the back of my neck he talks about things, like the fact that his parents won't consider letting him go back to work until the beginning of next week... at the very earliest. There's a slight chance he can see what the Westborough office looks like this Saturday but he doesn't think that will even happen. If he goes back to work for good next Monday that will be ten days after the operation. I say, "You're almost twenty-two, Rob. Tell your parents you'll go back to work when you feel you're ready." He shrugs, "It doesn't work like that when one of your parents is your boss at work." He's got me there.

I tell him I'm seriously missing our lover's sex. What Idon't tell him is I'm not the least bit horny, for obvious reasons. But I don't need to be horny to enjoy the hell out of having sex with Robby. It's a very special thing with him. After a while we try kissing a little but Rob complains he's getting a boner and it's tightening his stomach muscles and then I accidentally give his incisions a hard bump with my knee as I was going to sit on his lap facing him. Omigod, he got pale for a few seconds holding his breath and, as I'm apologizing, he goes, "No, no. Don't be silly, babe. I'm a fucking invalid; it's not your fault." I mutter, "I need to be more careful," and he goes, "Fuck! I hate being like this." After that we talk about all the people in the world who would gladly exchange their much more serious infirmity for Rob's. He goes, "I'm spoiled. I've never had an operation before." Jokingly I go, "Yeah, ya big baby. Tough it out. Be a man!"

We goof around like that until I hear car doors slamming in the driveway. Dammit! I wanted to leave before his folks got home. Looking at my watch I see it twenty-of seven. Holy shit, they're having a late dinner, and I've been here over two-hours without giving a thought to what Chub and I are going to do about our dinner. As Rob gets up to say 'Hi' to his parents, I call Chubby and, after the phone rings like ten times he answers and asks where the hell am I? I go, "Jeez, Chub, you've got a cellphone, call me some time and I'll tell you where I'm at." He laughs, and then uses a funny voice to say, "Don't yell at me, Dylan. It upsets me no end." I have to laugh at him; it's the way he says things, and then he adds, "Actually I didn't know where my phone was until I heard it ringing just now. I followed the ringing sound and found my phone in the pants pocket of jeans I'd put in the hamper," and he laughs some more, muttering, "Fuck, I thought I lost that damn phone." He's making meatballs. Awesome, we're having spaghetti and meatballs for dinner! Chubby took care of it.

After making torturous small-talk with Rob's parents for four hours, I mean four minutes, Rob walks with me out the back door, saying, "Thanks for the visit, baby. You have no idea how much it means to me. Ya know, most of the time lying around here all day I'm daydreaming about you." I go, "Damn! That's so nice of you to say, Robby." He goes, "You're coming over tomorrow, aren't you?" I say, "Of course I am. Get better, Rob, only do it faster if you can, okay?" He squeezes the back of my neck, murmuring, "I love you." I mumble, "I love you too, Robby. See you tomorrow." Hesitating, I turn around, "Hey, call me about how it goes with Dodger tonight." He nods, "Okay. Talk to you later."

Chub and I have a spaghetti and meatball dinner with a big salad. He tells me how much he hates the bus ride and he can't wait to get the Jeep back. There are apparently loud mouth people on his bus, like six middle-age women who work at the same factory and they yell back and forth across the aisle at each other speaking Spanish really fast. "Dylan, I get off the bus with my ears ringing and my head aching." I go, "You poor thing. Okay, you take the Jeep tomorrow and I'll walk to Rob's house after work. It's only ten miles." He grins and snickers, muttering, "Sucker, there aren't any Spanish women on the bus." He makes me laugh.

After dinner we hang-out watching a Red Sox game lying on Chubby's bed. In between innings I count twelve Styrofoam Big Mac containers on the floor, and it wasn't easy picking them out from the other miscellaneous debris on the floor. He laughs saying, "This room was immaculate the day we got back from college." I'm like, "You've had twelve Big Macs and we've only been home two weeks!" He says, "It wasn't all me! I have friends in here, ya know." Oh yeah, girlfriends. I don't go there. For some crazy dumb reason, I don't like picturing Chubby fucking some girl. I just don't, and I know that's one of the stupidest things for me to think. I mean, I love that he's happy but, oh fuck... I don't know what I mean.

Getting out of bed Thursday morning I'm not nearly as upbeat as I was yesterday morning. I mope through the morning doing interviews and using all my powers of mind-over-matter to appear invested in my presentations but my mind wanders thinking about Dodger, and then about Hayden, and then wondering why Rob didn't call me last night to tell me how it went at dinner. Then, while getting my lunch, I remember I was gonna ask Chubby what he's doing Friday night. I was with him for three-hours last night but never got around to asking him. Balls! Marty is going to ask me about us going to the basketball league games tomorrow. Oh fuck, I guess I'll go with him, and why am I thinking that will be a drag? Is it because I don't feel sexually attracted to him? That's so wrong though. Why do I think I need to have sex with every guy I'm friends with? Damn!

And then, sure enough, after saying hello at the picnic table that's the first thing Marty asks, "How about tomorrow night, Dylan? We gonna watch some of the summer league games in Natick?" I say, "Sure, um, where do you live. I kinda want to let my brother use the Jeep Friday night, and you said you'd drive." He says, "I live in Wayland, where do you live." I go, "Wayland, huh? That's a pricey town," and he says, "Nah, not where we live. Our house is near the Dairy Queen." I go, "Holy shit! I'll bet I've been to the Wayland Dairy Queen fifty times at least." He goes, "We were probably there at the same time more than once. So, where do you live?" I tell him and he says, "I'll put that address in my GPS."

So I guess it's pretty much set in stone now; Marty and I are going to a basketball game together. Is it a date though? Oh hell, I should be flattered he wants me to go with him, and anyway it was me who originally suggested we go together. Of course I said that as a vague throw-away line, but I did suggest it. I wonder why Marty doesn't have a friend to go to the games with. Was it the babysitting his sister that prevented him making friends? Oh, ya know what? I think my major problem with doing something with Marty is the Seth connection. Marty telling Seth what we do, but then why should that bother me? I don't know exactly, but I guess it does, a little anyway. Hey, maybe something will click, but so far I'm still not feeling any sexual vibes for Marty although I'm getting some back from him; no doubt about that. Yeah, but like I was just thinking, I don't need to have sex with every single guy I know!

After work, on my drive to Rob's, I'm realizing something... I'm getting horny! Yes, there's been no sex since Wednesday around seven o'clock in the morning; that's when Dodger and I did it last. Okay, how long has it been? Hmmm... that was, um, thirty-five hours ago. Only thirty-some hours? Damn, it seems longer somehow. Well Rob can't do it yet, not that I'm blaming him for that. He can't help that he had appendicitis. And how could I be horny this quickly after that forty-eight-hour whirlwind-sex-tour with Dodger? I'm probably anticipating I'll be horny because I have no prospects for sex until Rob's healed. That must be it.

Parking in front of Rob's house again I see Mrs. Dickers' and Danny's car; both cars parked in the driveway. Wait a fucking second, how'd I forget Danny? Yes, Danny and I need to have one-on-one buddy-sex. Rob even suggested it. The three-way with Hayden doesn't count. Okay, I'm feeling a little anxious for sex right now so I gotta be cool about it. My knock at the door gets Mrs. Dickers answering with a smile, "Hello, Dylan. You look so nice with your tie and, um, you're so clean-cut looking." I mumble, "Thanks," as I walk in. 'Clean-cut' must be a kick she's on now. She says, "I was telling young Rob the same thing recently. You both are such clean-cut, nice looking young men, and Danny too... obviously. I'm glad Rob has such nice friends." She's probably blocked-it-out of her mind that the three of us are fucking each other. Bet she wouldn't think that's clean-cut. Ha ha, no, Mrs. Dickers is okay. Huh, now that I think about it, I don't know that she's even aware Danny's gay too.

And that reminds me: I gotta find out what this bullshit is about Danny not be able to 'bottom' when he had no trouble with it during the three-way some years back with Rob, me, and him. Oh boy though, should I even bring that up? No, definitely not with Rob here. I don't want him wondering why I'm asking about Danny's ass. Danny, Hayden, and I have a pact not to say anything that could remotely lead back to our three-way. We don't want to hurt Rob's feelings. I'll ask Danny when we're alone. There's surely an explanation.

Mrs. Dickers tells me, "Danny and Rob are playing an Xbox game in his bedroom. Go on up." I mumble another, "Thanks," and go up the steps quietly. Maybe I'll catch Rob and Danny in an intimate situation. But no, they've both got a controller in their hands and they're cursing at each other in between laughing and killing things on the screen. The Xbox game is loud so they don't hear me come in. I look at their backs and, ha, both guys have basically the same haircut, compliments of me. Both of them are slim bodied boys with Danny having the wider shoulders. A couple of cute hunks right there! I can't think of a reason on earth why the three of us shouldn't be doing a three-way as soon as Rob's able. No reason except Rob won't do it, and I wouldn't suggest it anyway.

Hmmm, maybe I can get Danny to suggest it to Rob. No, that would only work if Danny didn't say I put him up to it, and he'd tell. I know Danny would be interested though and... ooouu, I just got a twinge in my dick thinking that Danny and I will most likely be having buddy-sex later tonight. He was hinting around about doing it last Saturday and again when I saw him here at Rob's the other night. Danny claiming he can't take anything bigger than a finger up his ass actually works in my favor. He fucked me pretty damn good during the three-way and I wanna experience that again. I'm getting more and more fond of him because he's a really good guy. Rob's lucky to have a steady side-sex buddy like Danny. Maybe I'll try to steal him away. No, I wouldn't do that! It's just a joke!

I sneak up to them and smack the back of both their heads yelling, "BOO!" Both controllers go up in the air as I bend over laughing my nuts off. Danny jumps up and gets me in a headlock while Robby hits my ass with that dumb ass book he's reading. Omigod, Danny smells sexy-nice and he's a strong mother-fucker too. I try wrestling my way out of the headlock but there's no way. Danny uses his free hand to rub my face, laughing and saying, "You almost made me pee my pants!" We struggle a little, snickering and enjoying the bodily contact; at least I am.

Danny's pulling me around the room until Rob yells, "Let go of him, Danny!" and he said it in a serious way and then grabs Danny's arm and pulls it away roughly. I straighten up running my fingers through my hair wondering what the fuck? Danny says, "Jesus, Rob, we were just messing around." Robby says, "I could see your arm was too fucking tight around Dylan's neck," and then, probably realizing he seriously overreacted, he goes, "Oh, no problem though. I, um, didn't mean to get so vicious pulling your arm away." He said the word 'vicious' in a joking way. Danny says, "Yeah, well okay then, no problem, I'm good. You good, Dylan?" I go, "I'm good. You good, Rob?" He goes, "We're all good," and, handing me his controller, he mutters, "Dylan, see if you can beat Danny at this fucked-up game." I'm like, "It looks like Resident Evil 7. Is it?" Danny goes, "Yeah, Biohazard." Shaking my head, I'm like, "Nah, I've never played 7."

We give up on the game and turn on the TV with Danny talking about summer league's baseball practice and how it's not as much fun without Hayden being with him. Plus, they have a Marine-like Drill Sergeant for their coach. Danny's bitching that the guy is taking all the fun out of practice. Then I tell a couple of jokes that the guy at work told me about Canucks, and they both laugh their nuts off. I thought the jokes were crude and tasteless when that guy told them to me, but now I laugh along with Danny and Rob, and then try remembering another one. Danny goes, "Oh, you guys gotta see this," and he logs-in on Rob's computer. Rob and I bend over looking at the screen, each of us with a hand on either side of Danny's shoulders.

Danny says, "This site shows people's IQ. Famous people." I go, "I don't think IQ's means much nowadays." Rob goes, "Well they must mean something if they're on the Internet. Look at that: Bill Gates has a 180 IQ. Jesus, I didn't think they went that high." Danny laughs, "Look at the dummy Stephen Hawkins with an IQ of only 160." I mutter, "He doesn't look too good. What's he chewing on." Danny says, "Oops, Donald Trump is smarter than Barron, 156 to 136." Rob mutters, "Maybe when he's older Barron can take the test again." We all laugh looking at Chris Brown's 85 IQ. Tired of that we surf the Internet looking for weird lists of things, and we don't need to look far. There are all kinds of lists with dubious authenticity on the Internet to laugh at.

Finally Danny says, "Oh man, I gotta get going," and I say, "Yeah, me too." Danny gives Rob a kiss on the lips. A half-second peck right in front of me, so I do it too. Rob walks downstairs with us and in the kitchen Mrs. Dickers says, "Oh, there you are, honey." I'm not sure if she means Rob or Danny. She goes, "I was thinking of adding walnuts to the salad tonight. Whaddaya think?" Rob makes a face saying grumpily, "If you do, I'm not eating that crap. Don't make any for me." Gee, he could be a little nicer about it. She gives Rob a furrowed-eyebrow 'look' and then looks nice when asking, "Danny, can you stay for dinner?" He goes, "No, but thanks, Mrs' D. My Mom's expecting me, but I like walnuts," and she passes a can of walnuts to him and, as an afterthought, she goes, "How 'bout you, Dylan?" Looks like I'm second choice again. I excuse myself from dinner too as I'm still wondering how the dinner with Dodger went last night. I couldn't ask Rob, not with Danny here. It's a family matter.

Outside I grab Danny's arm, saying, "Hold up a second, Danny." He stops, "What's up, Dylan?" I'm like, "Do you wanna get together after dinner tonight?" He shakes his head, "I can't. I promised Mom to get rid of a lot of clothes I've outgrown. I've gotta go through all the things in my closet and bureau drawers. She has a guy coming from Big Brother, Big Sister to pick up the clothing donation tomorrow morning." I nod, "Oh, nice to help out Big Brother, Big Sister. Um, you visiting Rob tomorrow?" He says, "Yes, but it's Friday so it'll need to be an after-dinner visit 'cause it's my afternoon to work my part time job at the cleaners. How about you?" Hmmm, I promised to go to the basketball game with Marty. I say, "I'm gonna visit Rob before dinner, but you and I will see each other this weekend, right? Maybe we can, um..." He says, "For sure and I know what you're hinting at, Dylan. There's no need to be shy, babe. I wanna do it with you too, so don't worry your cute head about that." I'm like, "What the fuck are you talking about," but can't help grinning. He grins too and then leans over to kiss me on the lips. He does that same quick peck on the lips he gave Rob. Patting my shoulder, he goes, "We're all in this together, babe, like brothers. See ya, Dylan." I go, "Huh, yeah okay," and watch him get in his car as my pecker throbs a little. Dammit! I could have asked him about the problem with his ass? I had the perfect opportunity.

Walking down the alley to where I parked the Jeep in front of the house I'm thinking, damn, that was, um, brazenly cool of Danny to give me that kiss. I always knew he was sexy, but now I know it more. Sitting in the idling Jeep I text Chubby,'What's up with dinner, bro?' but get no response. Dammit! At the condos I go right up to Chubby's place. It takes a minute before he answers the door in his underwear, "Hi, Dylan," and he pulls me inside for a hug, saying, "I was changing into something comfortable. What do you have planned for our dinner?" Oh yeah, he did last night's dinner. I hug him back, saying, "I'm feeling a roast beef sandwich and some beers at the Beef and Ale House." He goes, "Omigod, that's an awesome idea!" and he hugs be again.

Going to my condo I change into shorts and a baggy T-shirt and then we're on our way to the Beef and Ale House. Chub wants to drive. As he pulls away from the curb, I ask, "What are you doing tomorrow night?" I'm hoping he'll go with Marty West and me to watch some basketball games. He looks at me, "I've got a hot date with a 'temp' from the office. She says she can drive if you need the Jeep." He tells me the girl is twenty-eight-years-old and will be working there only this week and next; she's temporary accounting help. Chub goes, "She's in the Payroll unit and we've been having a smoke together during morning coffee breaks all week. You know, outside the convenience store." I nod, remember Chub telling me that's where he has a morning smoke because there's no smoking on company property. Chub goes, "She asked me if I wanted to watch some horse races at Rockingham Park. You know, have some drinks and place some bets. She's a funny bitch." Frowning at him, "I go, "You're going out with a twenty-eight-year-old, um, woman?" He smirks at me, "Yeah, and get this... she's recently divorced and jokes around telling me she's hoping to get me in bed. Probably missing it since her divorce, ya know." I mutter, "Omigod that's gross." He laughs and rubs my shoulder.

At the Beef and Ale House I tell him he can use the Jeep tomorrow night, but then I add, "Chub, Rob's still mostly bedridden so would you mind if I used the Jeep again next week and then you'll have it for two weeks after that. I need it to visit Rob's after work." He goes, "Absolutely, Dylan! And I wanna go with you to see Rob someday next week." After showing ID we order frozen mugs of draft beer and roast beef sandwiches. Chub tell me, "Saturday Jay and I are taking dates into Boston for the day. He got tickets to Blue Man Group and then we'll do some bar hopping." I go, "Who's Jay?" Chubby goes, "He's the guy at work who trained me the first week I was on the job. Jay James, a distant relative of Jesse James. I told you about him." I go, "Oh yeah, I remember." He says, "It's a Blue Man Group afternoon performance and then we'll try getting the girls drunk and go back to Jay's apartment." I mutter, "All you think about is screwing some chick." He says, "Nope, that's where you're wrong. Most of the time I'm thinking about you, big brother." That's a bald-faced lie but I liked hearing it anyway.

Chub talks me into having a shot of Jack with him, but I can only do the one. We leave the bar about ten o'clock because it's a work night. I wish I could double date with Chubby some time like that asshole Jay-something does. He probably takes it for granted without realizing how lucky he is being with my brother. In the bathroom getting ready for bed I think how easily Hayden could cure my horniness, and I mean big-time. Dodger too of course, but he's with Vinnie. Yeah and Hayden's in California, but so what? I'm going to the basketball game tomorrow night so what difference does it make that those two guys aren't available? Unfortunately, there's no way Marty is the solution to my horniness. Yeah, and another thing; Danny saw right through me when I was asking him to have a couple of drinks last night. Jeez, when he was wrestling with me in Rob's bedroom I started getting a boner. Luckily Rob broke it up or how embarrassing would that have been? I mean, getting a boner because Danny has me in a headlock! Jesus!

Friday morning I'm feeling lethargic. Doing the smallest thing feels like a big fucking chore. At work, I force myself to appear peppy for the interviews. It's hard to pull off though and I decide to slow down the process by only doing four interviews before lunch. I tell the Accounting supervisor I need to catch up on paperwork so she's only to send individuals every forty-five minutes. In between interviews I'm thinking about meeting Danny at Rob's on Saturday, but now I'm wondering if maybe I should cool it. Maybe use my world-renowned willpower to resist having sex with him because, the more I think about it, the more I'm thinking Danny was a bit smug and condescending outside Rob's house last night. I mean, his comment about there being no need for me to hint around about having sex with him. What gall to insinuate I was hinting around to have sex with him. Talk about being conceited! And then he said how I shouldn't worry because he wants to do it too. Fuck, he's the one who should be worried I might not want to do it with him. To make my point I'm going to tell him I need to clean out the basement or something innocuous like that tomorrow instead of having sex with him. It'll be hard to resist, but I need to make a point with Danny. I mean, he thinks I worry he might not fuck me! Get real!

At lunch, after saying 'hi' to Marty I confirm I'm going to the basketball games with him tonight and them I'm quiet for a bit. Finally he asks, "Is something bothering you, Dylan? Anything I can help you with?" Ha! I almost laugh out loud thinking, sure I'll admit to him I'm being quiet because I'm so horny it's approaching a dangerous medical situation. Instead of that I calmly say, "No! I'm good. What time do you wanna head-out tonight?" He shrugs, "Um, how about we grab something to eat and have a couple of beers first? The games start at seven o'clock but there are games until after ten." I go, "Um, okay, but I need to visit a friend after work. He's recovering from an operation so I can't be ready to go until around seven o'clock." And I need to text Chubby that I'm eating out with a friend tonight too.

Marty, with a little grin on his lips, goes, "Sick friend? You mean, Rob Dickers, right?" What the fuck? Has Marty been asking around about me? Some people, not many, but some people at work know Rob and I are boyfriends. I play it straight, "Yes, Rob," and leave it at that. Marty might be a sneaky bastard but I don't want to let on that it bothers me he knows about Rob and me. Hey, Seth probably told him. The Seth connection is really getting to me, but I need to be cool about it.

We say no more about Rob. We agree Marty will pick me up a little after seven o'clock. He has his normal fifteen-minute lunch break, again cleaning up both of our after-lunch trash, so that's very nice of him. Then, he puts a hand casually on my shoulder as we're walking to the back door, with him saying, "Oh, I was talking with Seth last night," I knew it! Marty continues, "And he told me to say 'Hi!' and to give you a hug from him." I go, "How's he doing?" We stop at the door and Marty says, "Awesome. He says he's in love again, but then Seth's always in love it seems." Patting my shoulder, he goes, "I'll give you his proxy-hug a little later," and his hand drifts up the back of my head. He's going to be very surprised tonight because I'm not doing it with him. Let him tell Seth that!

I'm a little pissed-off because it seems not only Danny, but now Marty too, thinks I can't wait for them to fuck me. I'm getting more and more determined to wait for when Rob's well enough to perform his boyfriend duties, or for when Hayden gets back; whichever happens first. Good to have will power. It won't be that hard to reject Marty, although it will be hard doing that with Danny tomorrow. I'm gonna surprise him too though! Those fucking guys thinking they can have sex with me at the drop of a hat. I'm outside smoking a cigarette texting Chubby to tell him I'm having dinner with a friend tonight and, miracle of miracles, he texts right back, saying, 'Thanks for the heads-up, Dylan! No problem... love you, bro!' Then I tell him the Jeep will be at the curb. After that the afternoon goes by fast with me doing the interviews one right after another to keep my mind off sex.

As I drive to Rob's after work I'm feeling much better because the weekend's ahead of me. I love me some weekends! It's been exactly a week since Rob's operation, although it seems a lot longer. And, back to my horniness problem, I don't know why I haven't thought of this earlier, but Dodger's had his couple of days with Vinnie, and Dodger is a better option than Danny, and certainly a much better option than Marty for curing my horniness. There's a problem with that too though and it's that I don't want to be the one who reaches out to Dodger because, well just because. I mean, in Dodger's case I don't want to encourage his notion we'll be living together some day. I'm not even sure he's serious about that but, in any case, I'm not going to do anything to give him more reason to think that idea is a possibility. Yeah, but if I don't call Dodger I'm right back where I fucking started... being horny. Well, so be it then. It is what it is.

Mrs. Dickers lets me in, saying, "Oh Danny! Your best friend did something stupid today." She's calling me Danny now? How could she know about Marietta? Yeah but I'm concerned more about what she means saying Rob did something stupid, so I'm like, 'Whaddaya mean, Mrs. Dickers?" She says, "I'm sorry. You're Dylan, I'm flustered because Rob tried doing sit-ups and ripped a stitch out and I insisted we go to the hospital this afternoon. It turned-out to be no big deal except Rob's hurting." I'm like, "Oh jeez. Um, is he awake?" She shrugs, "I'm not sure, but go on up. He needs a friendly face because I'm afraid I wasn't very understanding." Nodding, I mumble, "Okay, I'll go up and, um..." as I'm backing away.

In Rob's bedroom, I find him under the covers apparently asleep. A floor board creaks as I walk over to the bed and Rob turns over and smiles a big smile, "Hey, babe. How ya doing? Good to see you!" Huh, he seems in good spirits. Sitting on the edge of the bed I pat his arm, saying, "Your Mom told me what happened." He looks annoyed, muttering, "Mothers!! It was nothing. She gets hysterical over anything out of the ordinary. Drives me nuts sometimes." He tells me he woke up from a nap and, feeling better, he forgot his condition for a split second and tried sitting right up and screamed in pain. His Mom insisted they go to the hospital, and Rob adds, "Going to the hospital and sitting around did more damage than me sitting up in bed." I go, "She said you were doing sit-ups," and he chuckles, "Not sit-ups, just sitting up the one time."

We talk about this and that, and then Rob sends me on an errand. Well he didn't exactly send me, he asked, "Dylan, would you mind getting us a couple of soft drinks. I'd get them myself but I am wicked sore. Oh, and ask my Mom if there's some pretzels or something I can eat. I missed lunch." I'm like, "Sure, of course," and go down to tell Mrs. Dickers what Rob wants. She says, "Oops, he missed lunch, didn't he? With everything happening, I forgot all about it. I'll fix him a sandwich because we're not eating dinner until late. Robert's got some emergency at work to deal with and after dinner he's driving to Westborough." Too much information Mrs. Dickers!!! She says, "Help yourself to sodas, Dylan." I get a couple of Cokes from the refrigerator and, as she makes a ham and tomato sandwich on rye, she asks me how work is going. I tell her what I do there, although she already knows what I do at work. She says, "Robert says you're doing very well, and he's a hard one to please when it comes to his business." Huh, good to know!

I take the sandwich and sodas up to the bedroom and then it's an easy and relaxing time with Rob. We have a couple of laughs again about the guy with the Canuck so-called jokes and talk about stuff like planning our reunion 'date' when he's better. I leave at six-thirty and get to the apartment with enough time to change clothes and wash-up. I'm waiting for Marty at the curb smoking a cigarette before seven o'clock. While I'm waiting, I tell myself to fucking relax and be myself. Marty has flaws but so do I, and he's turning out to a pretty good guy. Hell, what would I do tonight anyway if I didn't go to the basketball games with him? Well, I could have some beers with Danny for one thing, except I've already convinced myself I'm not screwing with him. Not until Rob's back on his feet at least.

Marty's only a couple minutes late. We bump fists when I get in, and he asks, "Do you have a special bar or pub you like?" I shrug, "No, any place is okay with me." Marty says, "We'll go to my bar then. It's on the way to the Natick courts." Natick is a town in between the towns of Wayland and Framingham. I ask, "You're still living with you're Mom, right?" He nods, "Yes, my Mom and my sister, although I'd really like to get a place of my own, and soon. Someplace closer to work. Um, with Mom at home tonight we can't go to my house, but we can go to your place after the games, right?" I mutter, "Well my Mom will be working if that's what you mean." See, I didn't say 'yes' or 'no', but it's going to be 'no' in the end. Marty talks about apartments he's considering as I glance at him, feeling zero heat. That's funny too because he's nice enough looking with those green eyes and his sexy mouth, and I like his buzz cut hairdo too. His body is kinda bulky though, not slim but not fat either. Not the body type I'm most attracted to is all I'm saying, but it's not a bad body. Damn, I still think it's gotta be the Seth connection that's playing with my head. I wouldn't want Seth thinking something negative about me.

At the bar the bartender says, "Hey, Marty, wassup? Um, sorry, but I'm gonna need to see some ID from your friend." I show him my license and then we order two baskets of wings and fries along with bottles of Miller Lite. Marty chuckles and then says, "Ya know, I gotta tell you something. Seth told me about you way back when he and I were dating. He said you were a really good-looking guy and the nicest person he's ever known. At the time he told me that we were boyfriends, Seth and I, and I was hoping to be the nicest guy he's ever known." I go, "I'm sure he thought you were, and Seth always tends to over-compliment his friends." As the beers are placed in front of us, Marty goes, "Yes, I can see that now. But getting back to your case, Seth was only correct in one of his assessments of you." I go, "Which one did he get wrong?" Marty chuckles, "He got your good-looks assessment right. Actually he didn't go far enough with that. He showed me pictures of you on his cellphone but, dude, you're much better looking in person." I mutter, "You saying that embarrasses me, and makes me uncomfortable."

Drinking some beer, he shrugs, "Sorry about that. The other part though, the part about you being the nicest. Um, you're not all that nice." I snort out a laugh and then says, "No need to hold back, Marty. Tell me exactly how you feel." He chuckles, "That didn't come out right. I meant, I was expecting you'd be 'nice' like Seth's nice." I go, "Nobody's nice like Seth." He nods, "Right, and then I meet you and find out you're sarcastic and often very blunt with some of the things you say." I mumble, "That's me alright, some of the time anyway, but I'm different with different people." He goes, "I'm not being critical, I like sarcasm and, um, bluntness." I guess I can think back and understand why he'd say that about me. Sarcastic and/or blunt was occasionally how I've responded to him a few times, particularly in the early going. As we drink and eat I discover Marty has an opinion about almost anything I can think of, and he's a good conversationalist too. Not boring like I suspected he'd be when he was talking about cars at lunch, instead he's actually sort of funny now that he's loosened-up with three beers.

We get to the basketball courts a little after eight o'clock. Marty likes to sit as close to the court as possible while I'm the exact opposite, but not wanting to be blunt or sarcastic when he asks, "These seats okay, Dylan?" I'm agreeable, "Sure, they're perfect seats, Marty," front row no less! Okay, my response to him was sarcastic but he doesn't know that. After a while I find myself looking around for Ray Reeves because my fucking horniness can't be completely ignored. Not that I'd have sex with Ray. He's not playing in this game though and I don't see him warming up on the other court either. In this game, most of the players are black and some of them have the coolest haircuts. There's a skinny black dude who I watch for a while because he's cute. Probably eighteen or nineteen and an excellent back-court guy distributing the ball with some awesome passes, but making three-point shots too. Swish! Swish! Generally speaking I like watching basketball. Constant action, unlike baseball. We're here about a half-hour when Marty goes, "Hey, there's a buddy of mine from the neighborhood. I'll be right back."

I look in the direction he goes off in and, just like that, I see Ray talking to his slightly overweight boyfriend. I was introduced to the guy last time I was here with Rob and Chubby but can't remember the boyfriend's name. Ray's wearing baggy shorts like mine. For a shirt, he has on a sleeveless T-shirt and the baseball cap on his head is turned backwards. Goddamn he looks cool and the definition in his biceps is, wow! He's got one arm across his boyfriend's shoulders intently telling him something. I remember him doing that to me in another lifetime. Ray will look right in your eyes and confidently tell you something and he makes it seem important, giving you one-hundred percent of his attention. Smelling the back of my hand I can't help staring at him, wondering how he got so good looking. Some guys get better looking growing out of their teens years, while most go the other way. He pats the kid on the ass and off the guy goes to do whatever errand Ray sent him on.

Wow, I press my crotch because my dick's feeling a little heavy as I think back to when Ray gave me a hundred-percent of his attention. There were many negatives involved with him too though. I need to remember that. Marty startles me, asking, "What are you looking at, Dylan?" He came up behind me although when he went off it went in the other direction. I go, "Oh, huh? Looking at? What have you got there, Marty?" He's holding quart-size cardboard cups in each hand. He passes me one and sits down, saying, "My buddy always brings beer to the games. That's a quart of Coors beer you're holding. My friend pours the beer from the bottle into these cups because there's no alcohol allowed on the property. These cups are the same ones the refreshment stand sells large fountain sodas in." I sip on the beer that's not real cold, and say, "Cool. Thanks, Marty." He says, "Dino, that's my friend, and I came to most of the games here last summer." What? I thought Marty was hard-up for someone to come here with him. That's apparently not the case.

He goes on to tell me about some crazy shit he and Dino got into last summer as I glance over to see if Ray's still there. He's not, but Goddammit, maybe I should give Ray another try. Maybe he's grown-up too, along with getting better looking. He never was bad-looking now that I think about it. It's just that his older brother, Elliot, who I was close friends with at one time, is so very attractive by comparison Ray seemed much less so. Elliot was basically pretty, and he didn't look anything like Ray. The rumor is they have different fathers although their parents are still married. I've seen the father and he has to be Ray's father. I have no idea who redheaded Elliot's father is.

Marty taps my shoulder and grins, saying, "You're not a very attentive date, Dylan. You were off in dreamland or something." I go, "Sorry, but I didn't know we were on a date." He puts his arm across my shoulders and brings his head close to mine, saying, "Well we are. You're my date." That gives me shivers, but not bad ones. It's the first time I've felt anything from Marty since the time he squeezed the back of my neck just before going in the building after lunch a couple of days ago. I smirk at him and he sort of ruffles my hair, saying, "Finish off that beer and I'll get us another one." I'm such a sucker for a guy who confidently assumes he can do things to me, like ruffle my hair. I was right that, while Marty's almost a brown-noser at work, now that he thinks we're on a date he's acting confidently in-charge. I predicted that to myself a few days ago. And my dick did firm up some when he had his arm on my shoulders messing-up my hair, but I'm not sure how much of my dick tightening up might be a result of me ogling Ray earlier. Damn, I am horny though. I glance at Marty and he grins at me and then pokes me in the ribs, asking, "You doing okay?" I nod and poke him in the ribs.

Two other teams are now warming up as Marty says, "I'm gonna get us two more beers, Dylan. Can I get you one of those soft pretzels they sell at the refreshment stand?" I stand up with him, "Why don't I get the pretzels, Marty. Another beer would be great though, thanks." He pats my shoulder, mumbling, "Well, another beer is coming your way, dude." I'm starting to feel a little buzzed from the beers I'm been drinking tonight, but that's a good thing. Watching Marty go I'm thinking... maybe. I like how he's developing as our date progresses; he's still polite, not too pushy, and nicely confident and in-charge. And I'm seeing Marty in a different light now that I know he has friends. Well at least the one friend who he could have come here with except he'd rather come here with me. Nothing wrong with that,

Walking to the refreshment stand I'm lighting a cigarette thinking, 'Ha ha, hope Marty's not too put off by my ashtray mouth.' Then I spot Ray smoking over near the stands and he immediately looks right at me. He's giving me a big smile wiggling his finger for me to go over there. Naturally he wouldn't come to me. This is a moth-to-the-flame situation as I go right over and he gives me a one arm hug, saying, "Don't you look sweet, Dylan." Getting one of his strong hands on the back of my neck he holds me out so he can look me over and then he says, "You're something alright. And hey, we have the same shorts on!" Yep, identical Nike baggy basketball shorts. He drops his cigarette butt as I drag on mine trying to be cool.

Ray pulling be back against him makes me smile, but that's what I immediately do in most situations anyway. He makes me feel funny so I say too loudly, "Great to see you, Ray," and then realize I said that way too friendly. He holds me around my waist now, his hands and arm all over me it seems. Pulling me against him tighter, he says, "It's awfully nice seeing you again too, you cute fucker. What was it, the week before last we ran into each other here?" I go, "No, it was just last week near the refreshment stand." He says, "Aww, you remember every detail." I feel my dick moving around in my shorts, so I try squirming out of his arm but he holds me tighter as he chuckles and says, "We're old boyfriends. Relax, Dylan." Well I don't want to draw attention to us, so I relax and take another drag off my smoke. Ray takes it from my fingers, takes a drag off it, and then flicks it away. It was only half smoked. I frown at him and he goes, "C'mon, lean in against me more like you used to do. Christ you used to be all the fuck over me." I smirk and exaggerate lie against him for a second and then make a gulping sound swallowing and he grins and chuckles before murmuring, "Are you getting a little excited, Dylan?" Goddammit, I hate when I act like this! And Ray's younger than me too. Damn!

A girl comes over, asking, "Is that you, Dylan?" She's Ray's girlfriend. I met her last week and she's cute for a girl, but of course I don't remember her name. Ray goes, "Yes, my sometimes-squirmy friend here is my old boyfriend before I had to dump his ass for not being faithful." She smirks, muttering, "He's still fucking adorable, Raymond, and he isn't squirmy now. He looks like he wants to get into your shorts with you." Ray looks at me and chuckles as I realize I'm still lying against Ray with my arm around his waist and my face blushing as I try moving away from him but he goes, "Whoa there, Dylan. You stay put." I couldn't break his hold anyway.

Ray says, "Yes, Spiky, Dylan certainly is adorable and I believe from the look in his eyes, you're right, he would like to join me in my shorts." She goes, "You're terrible, Ray." I twist away again and this time Ray lets me go. Feeling awkward I hold out my hand to the girl, saying, "You know I'm Dylan. I forget your name though?" She shakes hands, saying, "Raymond calls me Spikey, but my name is Sue Spicer." I go, "Nice to see you again, Sue" and she says, "You too," and then to Ray, "You dumped him?" Ray goes, "Yep, didn't I Dylan?" I say, "He beat me to it by seconds," and she laughs and says, "Anyway I just wanted to tell ya, Ray, I'm going home with my sister. I got cramps. See ya tomorrow, and nice seeing you again, Dylan."

She walks off and Ray puts a hand on each of my shoulders staring into my eyes, saying, "Hey, you!" I look back at his shiny brown eyes and he goes, "When are you gonna apologize to me so we can be close friends again?" I go, "Okay, I sincerely apologize although I don't know what for." He says, "It doesn't matter that you don't know what for, you sincerely apologized, that's what counts," and he grabs the back of my neck again, grinning and pulling me over to him, asking, "Who was it you said you came here with?" I go, "I didn't say," and then point in the general direction of the stands, saying, "A friend from work." Ray says, "Yeah, well," and he gets his full arm around the back of my neck this time, pulling my head to is, asking, "Do you think he'd mind if I borrowed you for say ten-minutes. My car is right over there. Now that you've apologized you're entitle to benefits. The ones special friends get."

Oh man! I need to take a deep breath and then try letting it out slowly but Ray saw me inhale deeply, and says, "Take it easy, Dylan. Breath regularly, I'll wait until you calm down a little." I can't fucking catch my breath and then I take yet another gasping deep breath feeling my face turning red again. Fucking Ray just has my number, and he's so sexy hot which makes matters worse. He rubs my back, saying, "I know, you're overwhelmed but we're dear friends who know the score and I know how to treat you. You need a firm hand. It'll be great getting reacquainted with your, um, if you don't mind be calling it this, getting reacquainted with your pussy again. C'mon," and he starts walking us towards the parking lot and I want to get fucked by him so badly; I really do, but when we're in among the cars I stop, "No, Ray!" He gives me that dominant look and I say, "I mean, can't it be some other time maybe? I'm with someone tonight." He gives me more of his confident/dominant look without saying anything and I shrug, "Um, is that okay? No offense to you."

He doesn't say anything for a minute, just stares into my eyes and then finally says, "No, it's not okay, darling. I can see you want me to fuck you now; I see the yearning in your eyes. You just like it more when I need to insist." I don't move as I say, "No, please, Ray, not now. I'm serious!" He smiles and rubs his hand on the side of my face, quietly saying, "Hmmm, you're much sweeter and nicer than you used to be, Dylan," and he grabs a fistful of my hair, adding, "You're making me jealous though. You're with someone you'd rather be with than me. That's what you're telling me," and he shakes my head twice with the fistful of hair. I go, "Ow! No, it's not that" and he lets go of my hair, mumbling, "My fucking temper! I'm sorry, Dylan. Okay, I'll let you go this time but first admit you badly want it from me." Frowning now, I can't maintain eye contact with him as I mutter, "What?" He chuckles lifting my face with a finger under my chin as he repeats, "Admit to me you want it from me badly," and I go, "Sure, I admit it, Ray, but I'm not doing it." He says, "That's alright, Dylan, but next time you'll need to ask me, okay?" I nod and he pulls me against him and kisses me roughly on the mouth. My mouth opens a little, seemingly on its own, and his tongues is all around and inside my mouth as he moves his head and our noses slide together. Fuck he smells sexy. His hand are on my ass pulling our junk together and in my head I can see his huge cock with that big mushroom head, and maybe I can feel some of it pressing against my hardening smaller cock.

He sucks my lips and then pulls away making a smacking sound as our mouths part and then, with me standing here in a stupor, he kisses me quickly just on the lips one last time and lets go of me, saying, "Go on, Dylan, you can leave now," but I stand here a second trying to come up with something to say. Something like, 'I don't need you to say it's okay to leave, asshole' or maybe a simple, 'fuck you, Ray!' What's the point though? I turn around and walk out of the parking lot and back to the grounds and the refreshment stand. Fuck! He makes an idiot out of me every time I see him! Dammit! I feel like an ass because I acted like one, and I've got a boner now too. That was bullying, pure and simple. Getting bullied when I'm almost twenty-two! I suck! But the sexual overtones captivated me. Well it's simple, I can't come here anymore. This is the only place I run into Ray. Wait a second though. He said I'd need to ask him so all I need to do is not ask him. Ha, he painted himself in a corner. That's what I usually do, you dope, Ray.

Resisting the urge to look back I go over to buy the soft pretzels still feeling shaky and angry as hell, mostly at myself. Damn, though, Ray has the sexiest natural masculine scent and he's an excellent make-out too. God, my boner's poking out these flimsy shorts. I picture myself diving into an ice bath and then I'm looking hard at an unattractive middle-age overweight lady behind the counter of the refreshment stand and imagine she's naked in the ice bath with me. Whoa, that vision gets my boner going down! I keep that thought in my head until I've paid for the pretzels. At the condiment table I'm putting mustard on the pretzels, still pissed for being such a wimp around Ray. It's sad that I don't have more self-control. It's also mysterious that I'm so helpless around him. Hell, I despised him a couple of summers ago. No, I didn't despise him exactly, I don't despise people, I just wrote him off and now he's like hot again. Fuck!!

Without even tasting it I eat my pretzel walking back to my seat. Marty asks, "Where ya been? Your beers getting warm, er, warmer" and he chuckles, adding, "It was never real cold to start with." I take the cup from him, muttering, "Thanks,' and pass him a pretzel, saying, "I ate mine on the way from the refreshment stand. And, um, I was delayed talking to an old friend. Sorry I was away so long." He takes a bite off the pretzel as I glance at him. He grins at me and goes, "What?" I shake my head, "Oh, nothing. I kinda like that buzz cut you have. I had a buzz cut like that, or a version of it, for most of my life." He goes, "Yeah? I like the haircut you've got now." I go, "Let's switch," and I rub my hand over his head. He smiles at me saying, "Maybe I'll get a haircut like yours sometime." I have nothing to say to that and then we both turn our heads to watch the game. Marty's hair, even though it's only a half-inch long, was soft except for bristles where it was squared-off in back with the razor-like trimming clippers. That squared-off style doesn't bother me as much as it used to. It's how Robby did my last haircut. Jeez I miss him...

It's quickly apparent these two teams suck compared to the first game we watched. We stay until we've finished our second quart of beer and then Marty goes, "C'mon, Dylan, let's go to your place now." Just like that he assumes we're going to my place! My dick's tightening-up again too and I guess my face tightened too because he looks concerned, asking, "What's wrong? Are you okay?" I shake my head, muttering, "Nothing wrong, Marty, I'm fine," and he grips my upper arm pulling me up, saying, "I hope to hell you're not too drunk. Are you?" We walk off the bleachers as I ask, "Too drunk for what?" and he laughs mussing-up my hair again, mimicking me saying, "Too drunk for what?"

We dump our empty cups in a trash barrel and walk toward the parking lot with Marty saying, "Um, are you a make-out kind of guy?" and then he says, "I'll bet you are, aren't you?" He just assumes we're going to have sex I guess. Is it a logical assumption on his part? Probably, especially considering we're admitted gays and he was once Seth boyfriend and they obviously talked about me so he already knows I like making out. God, I feel funny. If I'm going to fuck with Marty anyway, I shouldn't have said 'no' to Ray.

Marty looks at me with a questioning expression on his face and then he grins gripping the back of my neck shaking me a little, "Are you? Are you a make-out kind of guy?" I shrug and he says, "I personally haven't had that many boyfriends, but I do know some guys like to make-out while a lot of guys don't. Seth said he didn't remember if you liked making out or not." He remembers alright, but I snort out a laugh because I'm acting so weirdly. Marty gets his arm across my shoulders now walking with our sides touching and he leans his head over and kisses my lips real fast and then makes a funny face staring at me and I have to snort out another laugh. I manage to say, "Excuse me, Marty, I'm acting like an idiot." He asks, "Did my kiss upset you?" I shake my head, "No, not really." Hugging me against him, he says, "Whew, I'm glad to hear that."

We get in his car with my mind racing. What's my fucking problem? How many times have I had side-sex in my life? So why did I turn down Ray and now want to turn down Marty? What's going on? Marty's taking charge the way I like. He's pretty cool and all. Not really cute but nice looking. Damn!

Marty drives us out of the parking lot and onto a side road that leads to Route 9. He asks, "Should we stop at that bar again or go right to your place?" Taking a deep breath, I look at him and say, "I like you, Marty, and I hope we become friends. I mean the kind of friends who try some buddy-sex to see how we like it with each other, but not tonight, please. And I'm sorry if I was giving off the wrong vibes. It's, um, like I said, I'm getting to know you better now and I like you." He goes, "Oooh, shit. You really don't want to mess around tonight? C'mon, we can see if we're compatible tonight? Please!" Oh fuck! What the fuck is wrong with me anyway? I go, "No, sorry, but let's go for some beer again next week some time, beers and maybe more than that." He blows out some air and says, "Okay, sure, but now I've giving myself away. You know I'm hot to have sex with you and you hold all the cards." He looks at me grinning, and adds, "We're good though, right?" I nod, "Yeah, we're good, Marty."

After driving a couple of miles, he says, "For when we see if we're, um, compatible as you call it, I'm calling 'top' right now," and then he asks, "Is that okay with you?" I nod, then grinning, I ask, "Yes, but are you any good?" He laughs, "Now you've got me questioning myself. I was really hoping tonight would work out the way I planned it in my head." I go, "How's that? Get your date drunk and take advantage of little ol' me?" He goes, "I don't think many people take advantage of you, Dylan." Ha, if only he knew. Now I almost want to do it with him, but he's pulling up to the curb below my condo. Make a decision fast, Dylan! You missed your chance with Ray already tonight. Tonight could have been a two-bagger, ya dope. I turn and say, "Thanks, Marty." He says, "I get a kiss at least, don't I? I need to at least reach first base with you or my psyche will be crushed." I grin, "Sure," and he takes his seat belt off and leans over. With the car idling at the curb, we make-out for a couple of minutes. I get really into it too, being kind of hungry for this sort of thing with a guy.

Marty definitely leads, moving my head back, his hands rubbing my body as he's leaning against me, and then his hand is fondling between my legs and my dick gets hard as stone... he's very good at this. I finally move my head back gasping. My hands rubbing over his head as he looks into my eyes, I say, "Wow, you've done this before." He goes, "You too. Can't we continue inside? Please." I mutter, "It's very nice being desired, so thanks for that, but not tonight...." Rubbing his head again, I ask, "Is your ego intact?" He nods, mumbling, "Barely," and I unbuckle my seat belt and then, grinning at him, I say, "I need a little adjusting here," and get the head of my leaking boner under the waistband of my shorts." He goes, "It didn't feel that little to me." I mutter, "Thanks... to be continued next week, Marty." He nods, "I'll settle for that. Thank you, Dylan. Tonight was definitely fun, dude."

I wave and start up the steps as he pulls away and I'm already wishing I'd asked him in. We could have gotten naked and had sex in my bed. I was saving my bed for Robby and me until Dodger took over. Marty has a good body, it's not too chunky like I thought and I almost feel like texting him to come back, or texting Ray to come over. Oh fuck, Ray does dominant sex almost as good as Dodger. Well to be honest, he does it even better but there's meanness involved the way Ray does it.

Okay, now I'm definitely re-considered not doing it with Danny tomorrow. He knows I want to anyway so why be stubborn. Oh boy, just like that I'm getting excited again. Danny and me and the hell with my ego. Damn, I just hope he doesn't have anything he needs to do tomorrow afternoon. He's Rob-approved and we're all in this together as brothers, or whatever it was Danny said outside Rob's house earlier tonight. Nah, I'm not texting anybody tonight but going to bed as horny as I am right now really, really blows! I have only myself to blame too... ya dumb ass!

to be continued...

Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumforf@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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