Dylans Junior Year Summer

DYLAN'S SUMMER FOLLOWING HIS COLLEGE JUNIOR YEAR

Chapter 41

by Donny Mumford

The lights are going off up and down the length of the Boardwalk as Rob and I sit on a bench deciding whether or not to extend our night by having a couple of drinks at a bar. It's a quick decision that neither of us is up for tackling the mod scene we'll surely find in any bar or club this late at night. We're basically sober but the boys and girls in the clubs haven't been sober for quite a while and it's usually not a good idea to mix sober folks with drunks as they don't relate well.

So we're back at the summer house before one o'clock in the morning. It's not surprising to me that the Moms and their guys are still on the deck where we left them three-hours ago. One o'clock is normally too early for that crew to call it a night. Tris and Timmy are slow dancing to a tune on the radio while my Mom and Tom are on the chaise lounge laughing about something. And of course, Chubby wouldn't end his night this early even back home, never mind on vacation at the Jersey Shore.

When we step out on the deck to say goodnight the guys try talking us into having a drink with them but we beg-off saying we want to get a good night's sleep. We're looking forward to a great last-day on the beach tomorrow. They all thank us again for tonight's dinner claiming it's the best dinner they've had in Wildwood. Ha! Rob and I are like, "Oh sure," not believing that, but it's nice of them to say so just the same. Tom goes, "Don't forget, tomorrow night is Jeff's birthday dinner." I go, "Chubby wants it to be at a Mack and Manco Pizza parlor." Tom chuckles and goes, "Yeah well, I guess we can have lunch there again tomorrow if the birthday-boy insists, but were having dinner at The Wharf Restaurant in Sea Isle City." I'm like, "Uh huh, we're looking forward to that!"

Rob and I are slowly backing our way back inside as Tim tells us, "You guys know they changed the name, right? It's been 'Manco and Manco' for quite a few years now. They just leave it as 'Mack and Manco' on some of the Boardwalk spots for old times' sake." I go, "Really? No, I didn't know that." and Tris hits Tim's shoulder, saying, "You're boring everyone, Timmy..." and they both chuckle. Jesus, the things they think are funny! Sticking-up for Tim though, I go, "No, that wasn't boring," and then mumble, "Well, we'll see you in the morning!" Rob and I slip entirely inside now, happy to leave the love birds to get back to their frivolity... or whatever it is they're doing.

Going upstairs, Rob mumbles, "Oh man, there's been some serious cocktails consumed out there on the deck." What? As if his parents don't have cocktails every single night!" I mumble, "Yeah, I guess," but leave it at that because I'm tired and don't need to make a point about something dopey like that.

In the bathroom we're both trying unsuccessfully to suppress yawns while going about all the things we're supposed to do in a bathroom, minus a shower. I'm wondering if Rob's thinking we need to catch-up with our overdue lover's sex tonight. We exchange tentative smiles getting into bed naked and then we have a few sweet kisses even though we're both exhausted. The swimming, walking on the beach and Boardwalk, the hot sun all day plus drinking beers then and wine during dinner has taken a toll on even our young bodies and minds. It's like vacations are friggin' exhausting!

Rob ends a really nice kiss on the lips, and murmurs, "Okay, I'll be the one who admits it: I'm too tired, Dylan. I want to go to sleep so badly it's embarrassing. Sorry if I'm..." I go, "No, no Rob! Thank God you admitted it first. I thought I was the wimp." Rob goes, "Well okay then. We're being sensible for once?" I mumble, "Yeah, but Jesus, just imagine how pathetic we'll be when we actually are old." We fall asleep snuggling together with our lover's reunion sex put on-hold again, at least until tomorrow morning.

And then, it is Friday morning almost immediately, or at least it seems that way to me. Rolling over on my side I glance out the window and see another sunny day. Damn though, it feels very early to me somehow. Maybe because the sun isn't as bright as it'll be later. There's no need for me to guess at the time so I lift my wrist and look at my watch: yeah, it is very early... ten-after-seven. Less than six-hours sleep but I'm not feeling all that tired for some reason. I glance over at Rob. Hmmm, he's still appears to be sound asleep.

Huh, look at that: Rob's blond-hair is so long in front its covering his left eye. Jeez, when did I last give him haircut? Was it when he was sick that timed I only had a pair of scissors? Maybe, but that was almost two months ago. Well, I can see his right eye is closed. Ha ha, but what are the chances he's awake too and his left eye is open under his bangs? Maybe one-in-a-billion? Grinning, I reach over and move the hair off his eye and of course it's closed too. No shit, Dylan...

Lifting up on my elbow I study my boyfriend's face from like three inches away, marveling at how perfect his skin is. That's something right there that I'll bet Rob takes for granted. Yep, there are many fortunate things about ourselves that we all take for granted, but shouldn't. Around his eyes is the palest skin because that's where his sunglasses blocked the sun. He does have some minor sunburn on his perfectly-shaped nose though; a faint reddish tint anyway. Rob conscientiously applies sunscreen like all light-complexed people should, but even so the sun is strong and the slight coloring on his face looks vibrantly healthy, although it's probably not. Yeah, killjoys who know about such things claim we should avoid the sun completely. Assholes... why not live underground.

The sun has bleached out some color in Rob's blond hair too, making steaks of paler blond hair. That reminds me that Rob and I had naturally two-tone blond hair when we were young guys. Oooh, and look at the sexy lips on this boy! They're just a tad puffy and rosy-colored and his sparse beard looks so cool on him too. Its slightly darker blond than his hair and sort of curly and soft- looking. Fuck, Rob's gorgeous although I wouldn't use that word out loud to describe him.

Lightly putting my fingers in his head and pulling it up I see it's longer now then it was when I first met him. Huh, I wonder if that's symbolic of, um, of something, although I can't imagine what. Rob has very straight, silky hair. It's not wavy like mine was when I let my hair grow out that time. Letting Rob's hair drift through my fingers to fall back on his head I then trace the pad of my finger lightly over his perfectly shaped, narrow eyebrows as I'm wondering about the randomness of good-looks, of human-attractiveness. I've thought about that quite a few times. It's the luck of the draw basically while those lucking enough to be especially good looking consider it their right. Ha ha, yeah well...

Rob's certainly one of the lucky ones. His brother is too, both of them born with the benefit of almost the perfect combination of the good-looks-gene from their parents. There's probably a name for that gene although I've never run across it in my reading.

Ya know, it's fucking weird how that works too because neither of Rob's parents are especially attractive themselves. I mean, they're okay as in... they're average-looking. Their genes, however, combined to produce two extremely attractive look-alike brothers, two-years apart. I'm not sure which one would be considered better-looking by most people. I know which one I think is the winner but would an impartial observer agree with me that Rob's blond hair and bright blue eyes make him better looking than Dodger with his brown hair and shiny brown-eyes. Again, it's a matter of opinion although it's not even close if you ask me... just saying.

I've Googled human 'attractiveness' and was surprised to discover there have been many studies done on that topic. Studies from Darwin all the way up to the current ones. That old blurb about 'Beauty being in the eyes of the beholder' isn't totally factual according to the studies. Of course there is something to be said for the ephemeral in that everyone may have slightly different views of what they consider good-looks, or beauty, although extensive cross-cultural studies show basically a solid agreement on the basics of what makes someone attractive or beautiful. So there's this overwhelming consensus while naturally there are those who disagree because, let's face it, it's impossible to get a hundred-percent of any group to agree on, well to agree on anything.

And I challenge anyone, no matter their cultural background or sexual orientation to claim Rob isn't an exceptionally good-looking young man. Perhaps there are mucho types out there who might claim Rob is too good-looking for a guy, but in their hearts, they're just jealous goons. Other studies have shown that good-looking people do significantly better in the workforce too, compensation-wise. That's not fair obviously, but that's what the studies prove so who am I to dispute it.

Anyway, it's only me who needs to think Rob is extremely sexy and extremely good-looking... and obviously I do. I feel very lucky to have such a handsomely-cute and sexy boyfriend and I hope to enjoy looking and appreciating him as long as I live. With guys it's mostly natural good-looks, meaning the appearance they were born with. Women, on the other hand, can add to their attractiveness with clever make-up and other tricks making themselves appear more attractive than they actually are. Not that that's much of a concern of mine one way or the other.

Obviously I can't see the rest of Rob hidden under the covers but I happen to know that the rest of him is quite something to see as well. Once again, there's no legitimate way that extremely straight, macho guys wouldn't admire Rob's body. And again, Rob's exceptional body is mostly the result of those aforementioned fortuitous genes from his parents, but he's worked at it some himself too. He's done weight-lifting and there's been years of sports activities to keep him 'toned'. Yeah, my boyfriend has the whole package: looks and a hot body, plus he's a really nice guy too.

Dropping down off my elbow and lying on my back again I vacillate between wanting to wake him now and doing the right thing, which is letting him sleep. Letting him sleep is obviously the considerate and unselfish way to go, but the thing is I developed a stiffy, a partial boner, from ogling him and picturing his naked body under the covers. After stroking my stiff dick a few times, I lightly bump Rob's foot with mine, bump, bump, bump, and then do it again, BUMP, and his eyes open. Heh heh.

I'm like, "Oh, you're awake, Rob. Jesus, it's very early, ya know!" Looking straight-up he grins and then does a big yawn. Still looking at the ceiling, he mutters, "Someone was kicking my foot," and then he turns his head to look at me. I go, "Don't look at me! I didn't kick you." Chuckling, he rolls over and up on his side looking down at me, muttering, "Liar." I say, "I suppose technically it could have been me. It's like I was carefully examining you for signs of melanoma. Ya know, because of your extremely light complexion and because you've been experiencing a hot summer sun which, um, you're not used to. Anyway, while doing that my dick got a little hard so maybe my foot was spazzing a tiny bit and accidentally bumped yours."

Snickering, he asks, "Do I have any?" I go, "Any what?" and he says, "Melanoma," and I'm like, "Not that I noticed, no." He says, "That's good, but I need to take a piss so bad I can almost taste it, so...." I go, "Yeah, me too," and we both slide off our sides of the bed and walk naked towards the bathroom with Rob saying, "Let me see your slightly hard dick." I stop and he looks at my pecker, murmuring, "Oh hell, I think I can get it harder than that," and as we start walking again, I mumble, "I'm hoping that's true and not one of your random brags." He laughs and then mumbles, "Jeez, this early I should feel wicked tired, but I don't. How do you feel?" I go, "Good! I feel good."

We piss standing next to each other in front of the fancy toilet, both finishing at the exact same time. We look at each other like, 'Omigod!' and then I'm like, "Did you do that on purpose? Stop pissing when I did." He shakes his head, "Nope, it was simply a miracle that we both finished at the exact same second." I give my dick a shake, muttering, "We're ridiculously simpatico, Rob." Washing his hands at the sink now, Rob says, "Yes, we're likable and have shared attributes and shared interests, and we're extremely compatible, you and me. All of that makes us simpatico, babe, but being simpatico has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with finishing our piss at the same time. That'd be more like a coincidence."

Pushing his hands away from the running water, I start washing my hands, mumbling, "Oh, have you been memorizing definitions again, Rob?" He says, "Yes, I have," and I laugh, adding, "Stop! C'mon, let's not be silly this morning. I need some serious loving!" Scrubbing his face with soap and water and then rising the soap off, he goes, "Me too. Um, do you think I should shave first?" I'm like, "No, don't be ridiculous! Brush your perfect teeth and then get your naked-ass back in bed."

Actually that's what we both do. We're in bed with our arms around one another snuggling under the covers as Rob says, "I gotta tell you again how awesomely glad I am to be with you here in Wildwood, a place you've told me so much about. Hey, why didn't you invite me? You know, instead of waiting for Jeff basically ordering me to come?" I frown, "Seriously? Are you fucking serious? You said months ago that you would come on vacation with me. That's what you said, back in the spring sometime. Liar! And anyway, I did invite again earlier this summer but you said you couldn't miss work."

Rob does his silly look; the one where he's pretending to try remembering something, and I go, "Stop it, Robby! Be serious," and he shrugs, "Okay, yeah, you're right, but maybe if you invited me out-of-the-blue like Jeff did..." I'm like, "Don't fucking tease me," and Rob rubs my head, muttering, "Okay, I won't. I was kidding, but that thing Jeff said about you needing me because you weren't having a good time on vacation... well, that got my attention and it meant a lot to me that Jeff called." I pull his head over so our faces are together and, with our noses touching, I murmur to him, "I do need you," and we kiss like lover's kiss, slow and dreamy while holding each other tightly. His lips are so sensual, so fucking amazingly sensual!

Doing long-luxurious kisses gives me that wonderful but indescribable feeling of being in-love. That's better than anything! And knowing in my heart that Rob wouldn't trade me for anyone on planet earth is a feeling so special it simply can't be matched. Nobody can make me feel 'special' in the ways Rob can. I feel in every part of me how much I mean to him.

Ya know, it's like I feel 'needed'. Like I'm fulfilling a 'need' in Robby. Doing that for him is extremely satisfying and it enhances my life and my feeling of self-worth. There's a scary component to it as well though. I mean, if I let myself ponder what I'd do without sensing those things from Rob, that'd be a huge blow to how I felt about myself. Even if the intensity of his feelings for me lessened I'd know it immediately and that would be a serious thing to know and worry about.

Sure, Rob's love is intense but just to the perfect degree. The way he loves me is never a burden because he's not too needy for attention or love himself. He knows I love him. At various periods over the years I think we've both struggled with the intensity/needy thing to varying degrees, but right now we've got the perfect balance and it's a beautiful thing.

I feel we've attained the ideal level of love and sexual heat for one another. That's what's known in Astronomy as the 'Goldilocks Zone' meaning a planet is the perfect distance from its sun so it's not too hot and not too cold to sustain life. Rob's and my relationship, everything about our relationship, is now just right; not too hot and not too cold. We're complimentary friends and lovers. It's taken four-years to achieved this spectacularly 'place' we find ourselves in and because of that everything has been near perfection for the past six-months... at least six-months. And that's probably also had something to do with the subtle changes in Rob during that same period where he's become more relaxed and more naturally himself, which is the best possible Rob. Frankly, he's probably too good for me but that's too fucking bad 'cause I'm not letting him go.

Rolling over on top of me, Rob lifts his head slightly, murmuring, "This is perfection, Dylan. Nothing makes my life worthwhile like being in bed with you. You make me so happy I literally stop in the middle of the day to just think about how lucky I am that you love me. I never want to take my good fortune for granted though, and I don't! I love you more every day and I don't even know how that's possible, but it is." We gently kiss again and then, just lying in each other's arms with the sides of our faces together, I say in his ear, "That's exactly what I was thinking, and I was just about to say that exact same thing to you." Laughing, he lifts his head, "Good. See that, we're perfect together. Not only do we stop pissing at the exact same second but we even think the same exact things at the exact same time." I go, "Exactly, Rob!" He rubs noises with me, murmuring, "I can't ever get enough of you, baby."

Another kiss and then I say, "Well, let me show you how much I love you." He smiles, "I already know," but he slides off me and throws the covers to the bottom of the bed while I'm sliding down the mattress. Taking hold of Rob's already hard cock, I stroke it a few times while he grunts and squirms and moves his hot ass on the bed. After licking his hard-penis from his balls up and over the big-fat head I suck the head into my mouth. It's a mouthful like always and I close my eyes licking and sucking this part of him, a part that's so familiar to me. And his scent is always there too; a pleasant subtle albeit sexy scent coming naturally off his pale skin. Huh, I wonder how many times I've had Rob's penis in my mouth the past four-years?

With his scent steadily in my head I suck on his cock energetically making wet mouth sounds and enjoying the experience tremendously. It's a fairly submissive endeavor, sucking your boyfriend's penis, and one that gives Rob pleasure too so it's one of those 'win/win' situations that you hear about. And I'd be happy to do this until he cums in my mouth, after which I'd happily rim his ass until he cums again.

That's what I'd be happy to do but Rob has other plans. Sitting up, he reaches down to touch my head, murmuring, "As awesome as that feels, I'd rather kiss your face and lips this morning." Taking his cock from my mouth, I hold it in my fingers as he gently cups under my chin pulling my head up until I'm looking at him. Smiling, I stroke his sloppy cock twice more and he grimaces, "Oooh, jeez, babe, you'll make me cum."

Sliding back up the mattress I lie on his tight body, and mutter, "Here I am as my master commands," and he goes, "Ha, there are no masters here." We hug and snuggle some more, moving our naked bodies together as he licks under my jaw and then after a long kiss, he goes, "Goddamn but you smell so good I could eat you with a spoon." I murmur, "Ooooh, please don't do that," as my cock gets even harder. It's lying heavily in between our bellies. Then, sitting up on his stomach, I slide back until I feel his hard cock bump my buttocks. Reaching back I grab it, lift up on my knees a little, and Rob goes, "No, wait Dylan! Lubricant first," and, like magic, I see an unfamiliar tube in his fingers. I go, "What's that?" and he says, "A tube of Astroglide."

Taking the tube from him, I'm muttering, "Astroglide? Is this for space travel?" He snorts out a laugh and shrugs, saying, "It might be what the astronauts use, I'm not sure. I thought we'd try something new so I ordered that lubricant online last week." Squeezing a blob on my finger I dab a little on the tip of his nose, mumbling, "I'm so sure astronauts need sex-lubricant in space." Reaching behind me, rubbing the lube inside my ass I make a face at the sensations buzzing off my prostate and do a quiet, "Mmmm."

Wiping the dab of lube off his nose, Rob goes, "Well, it doesn't smell like anything." I'm like, "Did you have this tube under your pillow, or what?" He grins, "Nope, right there on the night stand. I thought we'd use it last night, but you fell asleep." I mutter, "We both fell asleep," and then, "This Astro-turf is very fucking slippery," and he chuckles, "Astro...glide! It better be slippery."

After stroking Rob's fat boner a few times, spreading the lubricant all around it, I hand him the tube and go up on my knees again to reach back and guide his boner to my asshole. With the big head of his cock under me just right, I carefully sit on it and the head drastically spreads my asshole and then almost reluctantly slides very tightly in past my sphincter muscle with me making a face at the burning pain that's coming from my stretched anus. Rob shudders, saying, "Ooooh, mmmm! Go slow, baby."

Nodding my head and sucking on my lips, I drop my ass a little more and as Rob moans, "Mmmmmm," I grunt, "Ahhh!" The mixture of some pain and some pleasure is something I've learned to embrace after all these years. That's assuming four-years can be referred to as, 'all these years'. In any case the combination of pain and pleasure is not a problem for me, but I admit to being happier when the pain fades away... as it always does.

Using a philosophy much like the one I have about running into the ocean, to wit: instead of the slow torture of going into the colder water a step at a time, I run in to deal with the shock of the colder water all at once. So, in this situation I proceed similarly by sliding very tightly down Rob's four-fat-inches of boner right down to his lap dealing with the pain all at once. Sitting on his hips with my eyes closed I'm watching red-pain-balloons popping in my mind for thirty seconds-or-so before pleasure off my prostate and then little sparkles of pleasure all around my stretched asshole finally override the pain and... oooh, now that feels better.

Rob sees my more relaxed facial expression and body language as he quietly asks, "Feel good, Dylan? You okay?" Nodding my head, I open my eyes and stare into the concern that's reflected from his big, blue eyes, while I murmur, "As always with you, Rob, yeah it feels goooooood." He holds his arms up toward me and I fall forward slowly, his boner inside me bending along with me and pulling an inch out of my pulsating rectum as I lie on Rob's stomach and chest with his arms around me. The top of my head is against the side of his chin as he squeezes me tightly against him. Oh, it feels better than anything being hugged by Robby with his hard cock up my ass, his smooth body under mine, and me smelling his subtle scent. I'm experiencing intense pleasure and contentment with nothing on my mind but Robby and me in our own little universe.

As we're snuggly, getting totally comfortable, I inch back just a little to push in some of his boner that dragged out. Rob mutters, "I got it, babe," and he humps his hips up driving the rest of his hard cock fully back up my ass and then he relaxes his hips and all but the top of his boner's head slides back out against my prostate as I'm moaning, "Ohhh." Rob humps all of it back up inside me again making my back arch as I again moan with pleasure, "Ooooh..." Sexual pleasure pulsates from my rectum with my prostate vibrating deliciously.

Rob squirms under me a little getting in just the right position and then starts fucking my ass with semi-slow and deliberate three-inch hip thrusts that creates a steady, souring sensation in my rectum. My eyes close to better absorb every scintillating movement of that hard sex organ steadily going back and forth inside me. Initially, for just a second, I try thinking of how incredibly awesome it must feel on Rob's cock but my own pleasure overrides that fleeting thought and I settle-in for an extended ride lying on Robby with my legs bent at the knee on either side of him, my lower legs on the bed by his sides with my feet lying next to his buttocks, one on either side. It's perfection being 'joined' like this and every nerve ending in my body is tingling with pleasure while my shoulders do their little shuddering spurts, seemingly on their own.

There's quiet moans of, "Mmm," from Robby with every hump of his hips thrusting his awesome boner into my rectum and then another, "Mmm," from him as his hard cock pulls back. "Mmm," and "Mmm," over and over steadily joining my own mantra of, "Umm, umm," and together it's quite something to hear and experience. Shortly I begin to feel a trance-like sensation drift over my mind as pleasure soars all over me from his fat boner sliding back and forth in my ass.

It's not like I'm consciously making my moans of sexual pleasure or consciously sliding into a delicious trance, those things just happen on their own because it feels so good. There's no 'Slapping' sounds though as Rob's doing mostly just three-inch thrusts without smacking his body against my buttocks. Controlled thrusting for maximum pleasure... that lasts. Our mutual moans of sexual pleasure and our bodies touching almost everywhere possible creates a perfect sharing of sexual pleasure. The fact it's with the person I love makes for a dreamy delicious pleasure trip and I totally lose track of its duration, only getting concerned when I sense my building climax... and then in my head I'm thinking, 'No, no... not yet...'

Having sex while being held tightly in Rob's arms like this is so perfect I feel pleasure in every pore of my body and every electric circuit in my brain. My throbbing hard cock lies heavy and extremely hard on Rob's belly, but no matter how much I want this perfection to continue there's no denying my building orgasm and soon it's forcing all other thoughts from my mind. It's building quicker now and picking up power until the need to climax replaces all other needs, and the only thing in the world I can think about now is climaxing. A powerful and overwhelming desire that never stops growing in strength.

Every muscle in my body clenches as my eyes open wide. I'm almost afraid of the building sensation and the exquisite intensity of it all. I'm fully anticipating climaxing now, panting a little at the thrilling sensations that continue building until almost reaching the point of pain when right on the brink of erupting into a kaleidoscope of brilliant pleasure sensations, sensations beyond comprehension and then, with me holding my breath it's almost ready, any split-second now... omigod, my boner tightens even more and lifts off Rob's stomach slightly, and with a simultaneous humping motion of my hips and a squeal from me cum shoots straight out from my cock to skim against my chest and then rise in an arc that lands to splatter wetly against Rob's neck; a long creamy stream of semen. Almost simultaneously, and with a gasp from me, a second long second string of cum shoots across Rob's stomach and chest this time with two little spurts of cum quickly following and pooling in a shimmering, shiny blob above his belly button. I suck in a long, deep breath, my heart thumping along with zipping sensations wildly buzzing and sparkling in and around my rectum as I try to stop shaking.

Two-seconds later I'm still in a fog of pleasure as I feel Rob's strong stream of cum coating my bowels as he groans, squeezing me even tighter, and I suppose there's more creamy cum shooting inside me although I can't feel it. Oh, I love having Rob's semen inside me although I'm still tightening every muscle in my body trying for one more climactic experience of my own, but climax is a fast moving operation and it's already over and, like always, it leaves me wanting more. There isn't going to be any more for now though so I concentrate on the wonderful after effects that buzz and sparkle for a few seconds longer and then I'm weak and, with a sigh, lie on Rob as loose as if I didn't have a bone in my body.

Rob lets out a long noisy exhale while lightly rubbing his hands on my back and then he quietly murmurs, "Ooh man, that was so nice, babe, so fucking incredibly good." My heart's still pounding as I nod my head against his neck, murmuring, "Robby, it's always perfect with you and it always has been."

We lie together for a few minutes like this while his cock goes soft and slips completely out of my slippery ass. Feeling his cum drooling from my ass, I take another deep breath and slide off Robby while turning over to lie next to him on my back with his right arm captured under me. He murmurs, "I want to tell you again how much I love being here with you, Dylan. In Wildwood I mean. It's always awesome being together at home and college, but this is the first time ever we've been someplace 'away' together." I go, "That can't be right, Rob," but then I can't think of another time until, "Oh, our New York trip with the senior class. We were together in New York City." He snorts, "Yeah, with four-hundred other seniors and sharing a room with two of them. We weren't together like this." I go, "No, but you sang that song to me on the train. Remember?" He chuckles, "Yeah well, I was very young back then."

Huh, I can't think of another example other than New York City though. After all this time we're finally on vacation together, although only for three days. Rob starts pulling his arm out from under me, complaining, "My arm's gone numb. I can't feel it." I roll up on my side grinning down at him, "Ya big baby," and he smiles at me. Leaning my head down we kiss and I fall against him and take his numb arm to pull around me, murmuring, "We need more sleep, boss."

We don't go to sleep though. Rob says, "I'm revved-up now, baby," and, hugging together, he starts talking about what we can expect during our last two-full-weeks at work and what we need to do for our senior year at Merrimack, including going online for our text books and renting our apartment for the year, and all kinds of shit that I don't want to think about right now. That conversation morphs into one about us, Rob and me, and how we're lucky to have one another. And, like we do sometimes we get maudlin by exaggerating and bragging about each other's virtues, such as they are until it finally makes us laugh at our own exaggerations. It's fun being together talking goofily and then we switch back and talk about serious things again while rubbing each other's body, squirming against one another and rubbing our hands here and there.

Rob gets in a laughing-fit when I tell him about the dumb-ass, extremely inappropriate joke, I told at the dinner table Monday night. The one where the hypnotist's pocket-watch broke and he yelled 'Shit!' which the hypnotized super-seniors proceeded to do. At first, I felt he was laughing at me for telling that joke at dinner, and he sort of was I guess, but his laughing and giggling gets contagious and I can't stop laughing either.

We let our silliness wind-down and then he murmurs, "You're one of a kind, Dylan," and we kissed innocently which set us off into another lover's make-out. We're so happy to be together like this after being apart for a week... so we have sex again. This time in what's called the missionary position with Rob on top and me on my back hugging around his neck with us kissing as we fuck. The sex lasts longer than the first time, as 'seconds' often do, and ends in excellent orgasms especially considering it's our second ones this morning.

Finally, just like that, and seemingly simultaneously we remembered our lack of sleep and in short order we fall back to asleep in each other's arms. We were awake before seven o'clock this morning and then after having our too-long-delayed lover's sex we don't wake-up again until eleven o'clock. Rob's awake first bumping my foot with his until I opened my eyes, muttering, "Hey, I was sleeping." He's looks bright-eyed as he mutters, "So was I when you bumped my foot, but it was so awesome waking-up earlier, wasn't it, babe?" I'm rubbing my eyes, muttering, "Was that this morning?"

He snorts out a chuckle, and says, "Yeah it was and we sure as hell made-up for some lost sex opportunities." Sitting up in bed, I'm like, "Well, you're a fantastic lover, BABE!" He snickers, "Get your own fucking term of endearment! That one is mine for you." Rolling out of bed, I mutter, "I told you before, I can't think of any other ones. You stole the good one." He goes, "You'll think of something, um, why don't you go ahead and take your shower first. I'll rest here until you're through." I'm already out of bed, so I may as well. I mutter, "You got it, boss," and he turns over in bed, mumbling, "Thanks, BABE!"

Ha ha, I pad into the bathroom chuckling and then do everything I need to in there, except shave. Well, I don't actually NEED to shave, but there is a smattering of whiskers on my face here and there. Actually I'm kinda liking the little mustache that's been developing recently. Looks like it has potential to be pretty cool.

I do everything fast in the bathroom including a shower and come out drying myself ten-minutes-later, saying, "Get up, Robby! This is our last day on the beach." He rolls over and gives me another big smile, saying, "I was reliving our early-morning activities... and they were uber sweet!" He gets out of bed and pats my ass, "Looking good, Dylan," as he walks by me and disappears into the bathroom.

Pulling on a 'boardie' swimsuit and a T-shirt that reads, 'Yeah, Some People Are Gay... Get over it!' I go downstairs barefoot and see that Chubby's out on the deck. He's smoking a cigarette and drinking something out of a paper cup. Sliding open the glass doors I step out as Chub turns to see who it is, and yells, "Dylan!" He gets up and, holding his cigarette and cup out to the side, he gives me a kiss. I go, "G'morning, Chub! Wha'cha drinking?" He hands the paper cup to me, "Coffee from that shop on the Boardwalk, have some, bro." I take a gulp, exclaiming, "Nice! Hot with extra sugar." Handing him the cup back I plop down on a cushioned-chair next to him, asking, 'Are we the first ones up?" Chub snorts out a laugh, and says, "It's almost eleven-thirty! The Moms and their guys are long gone. "I'm like, "Where'd they go?" He shrugs, "To the beach or out for breakfast I guess."

I go, "Oh, yeah? Huh, well how'd your date go last night?" He tells me some funny stuff he and Carla did on the Boardwalk. Then they had dinner out and he says, "As it turns-out Carla is twenty-one, bro, and quite the little alcoholic I might add. A guy could go broke buying that chick drinks down here, not to mention get roaring drunk trying to keep up with her." I ask, "Was it worth it?" and he goes, "In many ways it was, yes." That means he didn't get laid, but did get to third base, so I change the subject. "Ready for our last beach day, Chub?" He nods, mumbling, "Yeah, but it seems like we just got here, doesn't it?" Taking his coffee cup from him, I drink some more and then says, "Yeah, it does. This has been the strangest vacation ever. I mean compared to the last few, but thanks for getting Rob to join me for a few days. That's been cool." He reaches over to rub his fingers through my hair, saying, "Anything for you, Dylan."

When Rob joins us, we go out for a late breakfast on the Boardwalk and after that we're back at the house getting our beach chairs from the basement. Standing on the driveway with our chairs and stuff for the beach Chub decides he needs to go to the bathroom. Rob and I wait for him grinning at each other until I go, "What? and he says, "Nice beach day," and then we bump against one another. We're fucking goofily in love, alright? And yeah, it's embarrassing the way we act at times.

A few minutes later Chub comes down with a note in his hand that he holds up, saying, "It's from your Mom, Dylan. It was on the kitchen table and says they went to Atlantic City for the day. So I guessed wrong thinking they were on the beach." I go, "No shit? Maybe we should do that. Hit the casinos and win a million-bucks like Dodg... um, I mean win a jackpot or something. Whaddaya say?" Chub shakes his head. "Nah, let's not do that. Atlantic City is too much trouble. The casinos are wicked crowded and the parking situation sucks. Let's do the beach thing," and Rob says, "I'd like to do the beach thing too." I go, "Well fuck you both then. I guess that's what I wanna do too."

They chuckle and that's what we do. We have a normal day on the beach covering ourselves with sun screen, swimming, talking and laughing, all three of us going for a long walk on the beach and then just hanging out at the Jersey Shore. Chub's Mom texts him around five o'clock saying they're getting ready to head back and for us to remember Chub's birthday dinner tonight.

The three of us go in for one last dip in the ocean and then one last short version of a walk on the beach to sort of say 'goodbye' to the beach for another year. Rob says he'd like to have a longer vacation here sometime but we don't know when that might be possible. It's like, we don't really know what next summer after graduating will be like. I still haven't mentioned Chub's plans for two more years of college and somehow, he knows not to mention it because I'm still not sure what to do. Chubby wouldn't think of pressuring me one way or the other. I'm almost positive, but at the same time not POSITIVE, if you know what I mean, that I don't want to do it. Separating from Chubby is very hard to think about.

We're back at the summer house taking showers at a little after six o'clock and done with that before the Moms, Tim, and Tom rush in at seven o'clock. I guess they didn't leave when my Mom thought they were ready to. Well, we're gonna be late for the dinner reservation again, but what's new about that? Rob, Chub, and I are drinking beers on the deck rehashing our last few days in Wildwood and saying how very much we're looking forward to dinner because we never got around to having lunch.

When the seven of us finally get to the restaurant we're told it'll be a twenty-minutes wait for our reservation and we're already twenty-minutes late. Nothing new there either. The table reserved for the seven of us wasn't about to be given-up by those rude people using it presently. They're taking their time having coffees and after-dinner drinks. We'll let the guy at the front desk deal with that as we go to the bar.

Tom orders appetizers at the bar along with our drinks. Rob, Chub, and I made quick work of the first appetizer order so Tom orders more. All seven of us are drinking Whiskey Sours because this is the bar where they squeeze fresh oranges and lemons for those drinks, plus they're made with eight-year-old Blanton's Single Barrel bourbon. The drinks are served on the rocks in short twelve-ounce glasses. Delicious cocktails at $22 each.

Tom was the only one who won money at the casinos in Atlantic City, winning something like eleven-hundred-dollars which, if he's lucky just might cover the dinner tonight. This is one-of-the-two most expensive restaurants in South Jersey. It's almost nine o'clock when we finally get seated. We all order a second Whiskey Sours but skip the birthday champagne tonight. We do have three very good bottles of wine with dinner though; one Cabernet Sauvignon and two bottles of white wine of some kind. The dinner was almost worth the cost but I'm not sure if Tim agrees, although he says he does. Chub and I got our birthday presents Wednesday night so no need for speeches tonight, plus there were no waiters singing Happy Birthday after dinner which made for a smooth, stress-free time for Chub and me.

In addition to the restaurant bar, the one we were at before dinner, there's also a great cocktail lounge with a band connected to this restaurant which is where the seven of us hang-out after dinner for an hour or so before the Moms need to call it a night. They tell us they were up very early for their trip to Atlantic City. Ah ha, this means Chub, Rob, and I outlast those four tonight. A rare event.

The three of us bar-hop three clubs ending up at a local spot in Cape May that features Karaoke. Omigod, we're all drunk enough to take our turns with the recorded music, singing the words to the songs we chose that scroll along on the Karaoke machine. Rob got the biggest applause of the night from the crowd of drunks that packed the place because he actually can sing. Chubby got the biggest laughs and I escaped without getting booed. There were other drunks who had okay-voices and we stayed there drinking beers until the place closed at three o'clock in the morning.

I drove us carefully back to our place in Wildwood, but couldn't remember the drive when I woke-up Saturday morning. Mr. Dickers would not be pleased if he knew about that drunken drive. It's late morning before Rob and I stir from bed... groaning. We're hungover something terrible while the Moms and the guys are cheerful and already packed and ready to go when Rob and I stumble downstairs.

As we're gulping down Advil tablets with Cokes, the only drinks left in the refrigerator, Chub's Mom gently reminds us we're all supposed to vacate the premises by eleven o'clock. That's when the cleaning crew is scheduled to appear and make the place pristine for the next renters. We nod our heads, wish them all a safe journey home, and then go upstairs to wake Chubby and pack out stuff. I go in Chub's bedroom and get him up. Chub goes, "Balls, bro, I'm still drunk!" He gets up though and I tell him about the cleaning people coming any minute now. He goes, "Well fuck a whole bunch of cleaning people but I'll pack my shit if you say so." Last night he had twice as many shots of bourbon as Rob and me. Damn, why does he do that?

Rob's in our bedroom neatly packing everything in his suitcase, saying, "I didn't need half the clothes I brought with me." I mutter, "Uh huh," and start stuffing my clothes in my suitcase hearing a huffy sound coming from Robby. He's too hungover to argue about my packing technique this morning or he'd have had a comment or two for sure.

Chub's already finished his version of 'packing' when I'm lugging my suitcase downstairs. He was faster because he just got armfuls of his clothes and threw everything in a heap on the back seat of the Jeep. He asks, "Ya got everything, bro?" I nod and we wait silently leaning against the Jeep for ten-minutes before Rob comes down with some clothes still on hangers, the dirty clothes in a duffle bag, separate from the unused neatly folder clean clothes in his suitcase. He puts his stuff in the rental car, asking, "You wanna grab a coffee or something on the Boardwalk?" Chub mutters, "Definitely." The three of us walk to the boardwalk, bringing our hangovers with us.

I'm thinking how awesome it would be to only drive forty-five minutes to Atlantic City with Rob and simply fly home from there, but I'd never leave Chub to do the seven-hour drive home by himself. Rob offered to buy me a plane ticket but he knew I wouldn't do that to Chub.

After eating a light breakfast of coffee and a muffin, which was all any of us could manage, we walk silently back to the house with me trying to evaluate if last night's good times was worth this hangover... and decide it was. The van for the cleaning people is parked next to Rob's rental car so none of us go in the house. I would have liked to walk through to see if anyone forgot anything but I don't want to deal with the cleaning people, so fuck it.

Chub bumps fists with Rob, saying, "I'm glad you came, Rob, Thanks, dude," and Rob goes, "Thanks for inviting me." That's about all the niceties they can manage apparently, and it wasn't half bad actually. Chubby gets in the Jeep as Rob and I do quick hugs wishing each other good luck on the trip home and then I tell him, "If it's okay with you, Robby, I'm gonna just hang-out at my place when I get back and then sleep there tonight." Rob goes, "Okay sure, um, I'll get our suits and shirts from the cleaners and, um, I guess I'll see you for brunch Sunday morning."

We stand there a second longer and then I nod and mumble, "Seriously, thank you for spending this time with me," and he nods, "It was a lot of fun, babe. You don't need to thank me." Then we're sort of just standing here looking at each other again until Rob finally mutters, "I feel like shit. How about you?" I'm like, "I don't feel that good yet," and then I add, "So, I'll look forward to seeing you at brunch then, boyfriend." Rob holds my arm, "Oh, I almost forgot to mention something, um, Mom texted me this morning that I'm supposed to remind you about the trip to my Grandparents on Sunday. Um, you remember, right?" I must look like he's speaking Greek because he mumbles, "Ya know, with Mom, Dad, and me on Sunday, after brunch... visit my Grandparents. It's their wedding anniversary... forty-years or something."

Oh fuck! No, I don't remember discussing that but yeah, that's right, the Dickers do all kinds of family shit together. I guess I'm making another face because Rob says, "I don't ask you for a lot, Dylan..." and I mutter, "No, sure. I remember, um, I'll go with you. Jeez, of course. Um, have I ever meant them, um, your grandparents?" He goes, "What? Of course you have... twice." Nodding I'm like, "Oh, um, well yeah then," and Rob goes, "Thanks, babe," and he hugs me and then adds, "You guys, please have a save trip home."

Sighing, I get in the driver's seat of the Jeep, my headache pounding and my body feeling fucked-up, and off we go on our seven-hour drive. Rob follows us out of Wildwood and then stays behind us for eight miles after that before he honks his horn and turns off heading for the Atlantic City Expressway. Honking back, I continue on to The Garden State Parkway. We drive in silence for quite a while before Chub goes, "Did your Mom tell you that her and my Mom are staying with their guys tonight?" I mutter, "I don't remember, but good for them." We don't talk again until I'm driving past the first toll on the Garden State when I say, "Thank God for Ez Pass," as we fly through the toll area.

Another half-hour of silenced before I mutter, "When we get home all I'm drinking is non-alcoholic liquids and then lying down on something and sleeping." Chub doesn't say anything and when I glance over I see he's slouched over sleeping. We stop twice on the way home. First stop is to change drivers and get sodas on the New Jersey Turnpike and then later to change drivers again, get sodas and we also both eat a hot dog.

Both of us drive faster than we should so we get home a little after six o'clock and lug our stuff to our respective condos and then Chub comes down to my place where we take some Advil with a bottle of Snapple each and then watch TV without talking. Chubby's sleeping when I hear a ping from my cellphone and see it's from Hayden saying he's sick. To make a long story short, I visited him for like twenty-minutes which I'll explain later. Around nine o'clock we order a pizza and Chubby leaves shortly after we eat it. He's going to bed to sleep some more. Me too.

Sunday morning I'm still feeling kind of bad even though I had a good nine-hours sleep in my own bed. It felt very weird without Robby to snuggle up to. After cleaning-up I text Chub but, not surprisingly, I get no response from him so I let him sleep, get my keys to the Jeep, and go food shopping for this morning's brunch. As I'm in the self check-out line Mom texts me to beg-off brunch this morning for her and the guys. Well hallelujah!

It's rare we don't do brunch together but if there's ever a Sunday I appreciate not having to make it, it's this morning. I take the groceries home with me since I paid for them already and, after putting stuff in the refrigerator, go up to Chub's condo to wake him. He rolls over groaning and I tell him about us not needing to do brunch today and get a big smile from him. Wow, he's so cool looking!

While Chub's showering I decide a shower is a damn good idea and go back to my place and take one myself. After the shower, wearing clean shorts and t-shirt I'm feeling a little better about things in general. Chub and I are going to have a quick and easy breakfast of bacon and eggs so I get the bacon sizzling as the front doorbell chimes and at first, I'm like... who the fuck? Then I remember Robby's coming for brunch. Damn, I forgot to text him that brunch was cancelled. We texted last night after we'd all arrived home safely but that was the last texting we did.

Opening the door, I see a smiling and apparently well rested Rob. He's wearing spiffy ironed-shorts and a button-up-the-front-shirt. A quick kiss 'hello' and then I tell him the news about brunch. As I'm adding more bacon to the frying pan for Robby he reminds me about the visit to his Grandparents this afternoon, which explains why he's dressed-up. I pretend I remembered and Rob goes, "Um, Dylan, will you get pissed-off if I ask you to maybe put on another shirt before we go to my Grandparents?" Hiding my lack of enthusiasm for that 'visit', I go, "Of course, Robby. Whaddaya think? Jeez, I'm just wearing these comfortable clothes to make breakfast."

As I'm getting bread out to toast I listen to Rob's still-excited comments about Wildwood and then we talk about our trips home. Rob's was so much easier than Chub's and mine it makes me jealous. He also mentions something about Danny Monday but I'm not really listening. What I was primarily thinking about is Rob's much easier and quicker trip home yesterday is obviously why he appears a few steps ahead of me in the 'recovery-from-hangover' department. I'm on my way to a full recovery though; it's just hasn't happened yet

I guess I should be feeling better considering I had nothing to 'drink' yesterday and, after that killer-drive, I mostly just dozed off with Chub on the sofa. And this is recovery-day-number-two which usually I expect I'll notice a vast improvement. Saturday's was a monumental hangover though, so it's taking longer than usual to get over it.

A few minutes later Chub uses his key to come in. He's looking sort of how I feel, but he puts on a good 'front' of cheerfulness. I get the fried eggs cooking and Rob butters the toast as Chub sits at the bar being cheerful. After breakfast Chub says he's staying in this afternoon to watch a Red Sox game so he obviously hasn't fully recovered yet either. And damn, lying on the sofa watching a Red Sox game sounds like the perfect thing to do this afternoon, but alas, being in love has its obligations. Meaning I feel obligated to go on this visit with the Dickers even though I'm not sure why I need to visit his Grandparents.

Anyway, after helping Rob and me clean-up the kitchen Chub's back at his condo on the sofa in blessed silence while Rob and I are in my bedroom so I can change into appropriate clothing for a trip to Grandma's house. Robby says, "Thanks for coming on this trip with me, babe. Ya know, I wish we didn't need go but I'd feel wicked guilty if we disappointing them." We? They're not my Grandparents.

I'm looking in my closet for a good shirt to wear. So far, I only have jockey shorts on, which I even changed for our trip to Grandma's. It startles me when Rob hugs me from behind, asking, "Why are you so quiet this morning, Dylan?" I lie my head back on his shoulder, murmuring, "I'm still getting over Friday night, boyfriend." He goes, "Well let me help you do that and he pulls my jockey shorts down and presses his flaccid cock against my ass."

Feeling his dick against my bare ass gets my eyes opening wide. How the hell did he do that? I mean, he had his neatly pressed cargo shorts on five-seconds ago. He kisses the side of my neck, murmuring, "Do you want to?" I go, "Uh huh," and he says, "Let me rub my fat boy up your ass crack a few times. I love your bubble butt," and I feel his cock getting hard as he rubs it up and down my ass and then I start getting a 'stiffy' myself.

Ooh, his cock feels really hard now and I go, "Stick it in, Robby," and then I gasp as he mumbles, "Let me take off my pants and shirt first, okay?" He steps back and I turn around seeing that his fat dick is sticking straight out of his fly. I go, "Oh man, I wanna suck on your boner," and he grins, "Okay, babe." He quickly gets out of his dressy shirt and cargo shorts as I'm kicking my underpants off my feet and stroking my firming-up penis. I sink to my knees now very much looking forward to sucking my favorite cock. Well, it's my second favorite actually.

It's puzzling to me how much I'm into sucking cocks. I sincerely like doing that, so much so it almost always gives me at boner licking and sucking a cute guy's dick. I know there's a bad connotation to the term 'cocksucker' but I look at it as a submissive sexual act that just happens to turn me on. Rimming certain guys asses is even a step up in heat from sucking cock. It's all part of that submissive 'thing' I have.

While it's unbelievable and disturbing to me, I've had dreams over the years, and I mean right up to fairly recently, about me sucking fat Carl's cock. It's always as clear as day too. In the dream Carl and I are both back in high school and I really go at gobbling on his cock. If I wake-up during the dream/nightmare, like I sometimes do, I always have the hardest, aching boner you can imagine. Sure, that really pisses me off, but there isn't anything I can do about it. I can't control my dreams or nightmares; nobody can.

And as disturbing as that is, I strongly suspect Carl's influence is responsible subconsciously for many of my views on sex. And that's hard for me to swallow, no pun intended. I can't help but wonder if my attraction to being submissive during sex isn't directly related to how dominant he was with me once he got me hooked on gay sex. Which, by the way, was almost immediately. I loved it from the very first time and, believe me, fat Carl was a horrid boy. Still, I did anything he told me to do in order to get him to fuck me because I naively thought I was supposed to what I'm told as the 'bottom', plus he was the only openly gay boy I knew of back then. Maybe, or should I say hopefully, my amateurish psychoanalysts of myself is way off base. Probably the truth of the matter lies somewhere in the middle, like most things.

Rob scuffles his feet a little as I lick and suck on his hard cock. He rubs my head and goes, "Mmmm, that feels good, Dylan." Occasionally I've been able to get the head of Rob's cock in my throat but since he doesn't ever ask me to do that, and it's difficult, I don't try it today. Instead I wrap my arms around his buttocks and do most everything with my mouth and bobbing head. I love his scent and I love hearing him moan with sexual pleasure from me sucking on his dick. One time I got him to piss in my mouth and if I didn't think Rob would frown on it I'd get him to do it again. That's pretty submissive, right?

Moving my head, tongue, and lips gets Rob's boner drooling pre-cum in less than a minute. If I do say myself, I know how to suck a guy's cock. Sucking on a 'hard' cock gets me the most aroused, and Robby's was hard when I started in on it. Damn, I feel my dick getting harder and harder. Actually I'd like to suck Rob off to orgasm, but after maybe two-minutes, he goes, "Oooh, baby," as he gently pushes my head back, adding, "I'm wicked horny for you and I'm afraid I'll cum in your mouth." Taking my arms from around his ass I pull his cock from my mouth and look up, saying, "You can cum in my mouth, Rob. I'd like that."

Stepping back pulls his boner from my fingers and I detect a disapproving expression on his face when he mumbles, "I know, Dylan, but I don't want you to. Where's the lube." I hop up and get my lubricant, asking, "Are you mad?" He shakes his head, "No, of course not. I guess I just get surprised sometimes at what you're willing to do for me." Huh, I don't know what's wrong with that. I let it drop though, mumbling, "This is KY Jelly, not that fancy lube you bought." He smiles now and takes it from me, muttering, "It'll have to do I guess."

Twisting off the cap, he asks, "Do you feel like doing it doggy-style this morning?" meaning that's what he feels like. I nod, "Sure, whatever you say, Robby," and get down on all fours pushing my ass up and looking back at him. He spreads lube around my asshole and then pushes his middle finger all the way in, saying, "You spoil me, babe. Just for the hell of it, once in a while say 'no', okay?" I nod, "Yeah, okay." Finger-fucking me for fifteen-second while spreading the lubricant gets me squirming and moaning until he pulls his finger out and rubs lube on his boner grinning at me, saying, "Gawd, this is so awesome. Now that we live together full-time we can do this any time we want!"

Amazingly my boner tightens-up even more watching him twisting his fingers around his boner and pulling the foreskin back and forth. I know once he's inside me his cock gets a little longer and the foreskin will come entirely off the head, stretched to its limit. We get each other ridiculously aroused.

With his shiny-lubed boner sticking straight out from his pubic patch and me looking back at him, he grins and smacks my ass hard a half-dozen times. I grunt and put my hand back there after the sixth smack but he pulls my hand away and smacks my ass very hard twice more and I swear to God a spurt of cum shoots out of my hard-as-stone cock feeling like an orgasm. I moan, "Oh Rob, ooh." He murmurs, "I'm trying, Dylan," meaning he knows I like it rough sometimes although he rarely gets a kick out of it. Once in a while though I guess he thinks it's silly and I'll hear him snicker. Usually though he doesn't do much spanking at all. I really like this start to sex though, and he knows that.

Robby mutters, "Okay my snacked-ass-lover, here we go," and he steps up and plugs the head of his boner in past my sphincter and then steadily pushes the rest of his cock in there as those red balloons of pain are popping behind my eyes again. In five-seconds he's leaning tightly against my buttocks making soothing sounds while gently rubbing his hands on my back and across my shoulders.

The pain fades and my tense body relaxes. Robby murmurs, "You're the most special person, Dylan. There's no one who compares with you." I listen as my prostate begins purring like a cat being petted and then when Rob pulls his boner back the purring turns into roars of sexual pleasure coming straight off my stimulated prostate gland. My anus is still gaining elasticity to accommodate Rob's fat boner's circumference and so no pleasure signals yet from the lips of my asshole.

After two more tentative withdrawals and thrusts back-in Robby starts hard, fast fucking on my ass that has me moaning in a state of ecstasy with the strong sounds of males fucking filling my bedroom, "SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP,' and me, on my hands and knees, getting inched forward with every hard thrust. Omigod, it's fantastic and every nerve ending in my body is alive with juicy pleasure vibrations. I have chills and goosebumps of pleasure but it doesn't even last three-minute before I'm squealing and thrusting my hips with cum shooting out in three swift streaks and with such intensity I see black dots swarming in my vision for a few seconds and then it's... "Ooooh, mmmm," at the swirling after effects of my orgasm. It feels so good!

Rob pounds away with me flopping forward and back for another whole minute before he's tight against my ass humping his load of spunk inside me, gasping, "Ahhhh, ooh, fuck! Yes, yes." And now we're both spent and just breathing deeply for a bit before Rob staggers back chuckling and saying, "Nothing beats that, huh, Dylan?" I lie flat on the carpetsaying, "Nothing I know of, Rob." Taking another deep breath Rob bend over offering me his hand and I take it to help getting up on my feet with his cum drooling out the backdoor. He goes, "How am I going to survive when you're away after this coming week on that business trip?" I shrug, mumbling, "Oh man, yeah, I've gotta spend a week at the Hartford office... on a business trip with an expense account... cool! But hell, how about me? You have Danny at least." He looks serious, sternly saying, "Dylan!" He means we don't talk about that.

That's okay with me. Damn though, that sex made me feel really good! We go into the bathroom and clean up with Robby doing most of the cleaning on my ass. Getting dressed, I'm like, "That was fantastic, Rob. Holy shit, that was great!" He goes, "For me too and you looked like you needed a little something." I go, "We all need a little something-something from time to time."

We both get dressed and then go outside and as I'm getting in Rob's pickup, I'm wondering again why I need to visit his Grandparents? I don't want to ask right now though because we just had that awesome sex and I don't want to sound like I'm complaining about going. And, plus Rob's right, he doesn't ask me for much and visiting his Grandparents is only like once a year I'd imagine. Then later I find out why I'm visiting his Grandparents. It's during the ride there with Rob and me in the backseat of Mrs. Dickers' Lexus with her driving and Mr. Dickers in the passenger seat reading business reports.

Yeah, while driving Mrs. D. is making occasional eye contact with me in the rearview mirror as she tells me that her parents, Rob's Grandparents, are anxious to get to know Rob's 'significant other' better. She adds, "Since you'll be part of the family when you marry Robert my parents are understandably very interested in you, Dylan." Wow, 'when I marry Robert', presume much, Mrs. D.? She goes on to tell me how they only get to see her parents a few times each year so she promised her Mother she'd be sure I came along on this trip. Huh, a 'few' times a year! And damn, I was hoping never to be called Rob's 'significant other'. I've gotta get Rob to straighten that out with his Mom.

Well the positive aspect of what Mrs. D. just told me is that this entire family, all three generations of them, are totally on-board with Rob and me being gay-lovers, even to the extent of us getting married. So, ya know, that's a very good thing! Very progressive of the Dickers clan. Oh, wait a minute, the parents of Mrs. Dickers aren't, um, Dickers. I don't know what Rob's Mom's maiden name is. Oooh, 'maiden name' is probably another of those perfectly fine descriptive words that are politically incorrect.

Remembering that Rob said I've already met his Grandparents, my response to Mrs. D. is, "I'm flattered they want to know me better and I'm looking forward to seeing them... again." I couldn't pick either one of them out of a line-up of course but maybe I'll remember them when I get there and see them. Mrs. Dickers says, "You're a sweet boy, Dylan," and Rob pinches my side, muttering, "You're a sweetie, babe." I frown at him and 'mouth, "Don't, you'll embarrass me." He's enjoying himself but I wonder how much Dodger enjoyed these 'visits'?

Ya know, sitting here in the backseat with Rob going to Grandma's house makes me feel like a little kid somehow. When his Mom's done talking to me Rob gets real chatty which reduces the stress level significantly for me. A silent hour-and-a-half-ride might cause me to expire spontaneously, or else I'd feel I had to babble about something. No thanks to either of those scenarios.

Mrs. D. drives okay and we arrive at Grandma's house safely and then the visit doesn't go nearly as badly as I envisioned it. Still, even though I hadn't planned on drinking anything alcoholic today I did find it necessary to have four or five beers. The Grandparents aren't nearly as old as I thought they'd be and for the record I do not recall ever meeting them before. I must have though because Grandpa commented that I'm wearing the same shirt I wore at one of the Dickers' cookouts we were all at a year ago. He remembered my shirt because he had one just like it as a young man. Well yeah, that's an example of the early conversation but both Grandma and Grandpa, which they insist I call them, are nice enough people.

Later the conversation got better because Grandpa is a sports fan of the Boston-New-England professional teams, as am I, and that subject matter helped the discussion along immeasurably. We finally have a simple but good dinner at the Grandparents' house, both of them eating with their mouths closed... and thank God for that! Well, Rob's Dad actually cooked most of the dinner on the grill; grilled chicken and a grilled vegetable medley that was surprisingly tasty, plus Grandma's potato salad. My portion of potato salad even had one of Grandma's silver hairs in it, and then there was a really good fresh salad with a homemade dressing that Grandma, knowing I cook, insisted on giving me the secret recipe. Lastly we had strawberry shortcake, the best I've ever had, for dessert. During the day I got the distinct impression the Grandparents don't realize they're old. They didn't act like they realized it anyway.

The ride home wasn't bad because of the beers. Rob's parents made a point of thanking me for being so 'nice' to the Grandparents. Huh, what'd they expect I'd do? When we get home Rob and I are in the bedroom getting our clothes ready for work Monday morning and then, yes, we have sex again. Not extemporaneous-fun-sex like we had this afternoon but instead it's an even better version of lover's sex, I mean even better than we had at the shore. Maybe Rob was appreciative of me being so 'nice' during the visit like his parents apparently were. If that's the reason for our awesome sex tonight it was well worth my efforts at being 'nice'. Catching my breath after a fantastic climax, I asked, "When can we visit your Grandparents again?" Not grasping my meaning, he corrects me, "Our Grandparents, baby, or they will be next year." Not really...

Great night's sleep and then Monday morning we have the usual high-quality breakfast prepared my Rob's Mom. With her hand on my shoulder she's leaning over me to put a plate of sausage-links on the table as she says, "Oh my, you smell good this morning, Dylan." I'm like, "It must be the after shave lotion I borrowed from Rob." Rob frowns at his Mom as she smiles, saying, "You two are so, um, handsome together." Rob goes, "Jesus Christ, Mother! Are you trying to embarrass Dylan and me?" She's used to Rob's outbursts and merely makes a 'face' at him, sweetly saying, "Well, you both are so good looking. A Mom can say things like that, Robert."

Monday at work is a breeze. It's been a breeze for a few weeks now because after a quick check-in with my boss I'm on my own from then on until the next morning's quick check-in. Yeah, I'm on my own doing 'field' presentations, and doing them at my own chosen speed. Next week I won't 'check-in' all week, not until the following Monday because I'll spend the week doing interviews in Hartford, Connecticut. The Hartford office is the furthest office they have from their home base in Framingham. After the week in Hartford I'll spend the following Monday in the office consolidating all the interviews and writing a final report and then BAM! my summer job is over. The Wednesday after that is the orientation for senior year at Merrimack which I have no intention of attending.

While Rob was driving us to work though, I was thinking back to some innuendos from him like dropping Danny Monday's name into our conversation a few times yesterday, and I think there's a subtle message in there somewhere, unintentional by Rob, that suggests Danny and Rob had a 'reunion' Saturday night. Chubby and I spent Saturday night trying to get over our hangovers. That's okay though because Rob and I have an understanding, but...

I mean, it's okay except I don't have anyone to have a reunion with anymore, so currently our understanding is a little lopsided. Of course, I'd be happy to share Danny... ha ha. No, seriously I would. It's come down to this: Rob's outlasted me at having a steady side-sex buddy. I don't have one and I haven't had one all summer. I can't count Hayden because he's been an extremely unreliable buddy-sex partner from the very beginning, and anyway he's Danny's main squeeze... and Hayden's sick in bed anyway. And then Danny's libido is for shit, but it's like I'm beating a dead horse with that complaint.

Anyway, speaking of Hayden just gave me a 'flashback' of my visit with him late Saturday. It was when Chub and I were recovering from hangovers, wicked hangovers. Anyway while Chubby was napping I got the text from Hayden and the poor guy told me he has what he called Mononucleosis, which is a virus I think. Of course it's also known as the 'kissing disease' because it's transmitted by saliva. He said he has flu-like symptoms and swollen lymph glands and it sounds awful so I thought I'd surprise him with a visit.

Yeah, so I drove over to cheer him up. He lives only a few blocks from Rob's house so maybe a ten-minute ride from my condo. Hayden's Mom let me in giving me a big hug which was unexpected and fucking awkward right there. She's very nice although a bit of a kook. She sent me upstairs and when I walked into the bedroom I saw Hayden's friend from next door, Terrence-something. I forget his last name, leaning over Hayden putting a thermometer in his mouth, his other hand gently on Hayden's forehead looking very 'nurse-like', or maybe boyfriend-like.

In any case, seeing me Terrence jumped back guiltily as if I caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. I remembered him from the Fourth of July cookout where he joked around about how Hayden was always trying to do 'gay stuff' with him. I thought he was joking, but ya never know. I like Terence and, when he got over the shock of me walking in on him and Hayden, he gave me a nice greeting with a big hug. Hayden wanted a kiss 'hello' from me, which made all three of us laugh.

Actually it was nice seeing Hayden and I think he's kinda cute although he did have all of his gay affectations on display Sunday afternoon from his sick bed. That shit doesn't bother me anymore. I'm sorry he's sick and, sure, part of me wished he was well so he could do his awesome sex on my ass, but that's not the main reason I'm sorry he's sick. I hate when any of my friends aren't well for whatever reason.

The three of us talked about the Fourth of July cookout in Terrence's backyard until I felt Terrence staring at me and I'm like, "What, Terrence?" and he points at my head, muttering, "Are you serious with that haircut?" Okay, I'm aware that some people simply don't care for this latest fad haircut. Hell, I don't even like it all that much, but Hayden yells, "Terrence! That's just rude!" Then Hayden tries to deflect from my fad-haircut by asking about Danny's, "Is Rob still doing, um, that goofy new style haircuts for Danny too?" Trying to get off the topic of fad haircuts, I go, "Jeezuss, you have some nerve talking about haircuts since you never get one. What do you know about it?" Hayden goes, "Well I know this much: I was hoping you'd give me a haircut before going back to college, Dylan." Oh, so now I feel bad for jumping down his throat. Contritely, I go, "Oh, sure, Hayden, I'd like that."

I only stayed like twenty-minutes because I was still dealing with my hangover, plus I felt like maybe me being there was throwing a monkey wrench into whatever is going on between Hayden and Terrence. And, Chub's gonna wonder what happened me if he wakes-up when I'm gone.

Truth is we'll all be going off to college in a couple of weeks and probably won't see each other again before Christmas break, um, I mean holiday break. So that's the other reason I wanted to see Hayden before I left, and I'm glad I did. The chance to give him a haircut before we all split for our different colleges is enticing although when we'd have the time for that I can't imagine. Hayden's got at least another week in bed and then I'll be in Connecticut the following week.

So, my Hayden visit was Saturday and then Sunday was the Grandparents' visit and then Monday was a work-day. After work Monday Rob and I had dinner at 'home' and now we're off to our summer league baseball game. As it turns our neither Rob nor I get in this game but so far this season I've played in seven games with a total of eleven 'at-bats'. I'm three-for-eleven this year with one home run, and two doubles... so nothing special, but nothing horrible either. Our team started off good but has fallen back to the middle of the pack and it doesn't look like we'll make the play-offs, so that's a bummer.

Before the game though, when Rob and I were walking up to the dugout Danny saw us and he came over to meet us giving me a really nice greeting. His greeting was very warm and friendly with a big smile and a huge hug like he was very happy to see me. I've still got this huge crush on him anyway, so of course I gave him a good hug back while sliding the side of my face against his, but no kiss because ballplayers from both teams are all over the fucking place.

Danny and I haven't seen one another for like ten-days so when Rob left us to go bump fists with some other guys I'm thinking that Danny's great greeting was a build-up to him suggesting we, um, get together sometime this week. He never mentions it though. Rob came back before I could bring it up to Danny myself, which I definitely would have. Yeah, before Wildwood I'd been like, um, I guess you'd call it 'nagging' Danny for buddy-sex, but to no avail.

I don't know what it is, maybe the fact Danny's been Rob's long-time side-sex buddy, but whatever the reason I feel real sexual heat when I'm around Danny and it's been like that all summer. Hell, probably my lack of side-sex has something to do with that too, but for whatever reason Danny isn't returning the 'heat'. Nonetheless, I still think he's absolutely awesome!

With Rob back talking to us I guess I must be been unconsciously staring at Danny and he finally goes, "What, Dylan? Why are you staring?" Christ, I look away muttering, "Nothing, it's nothing, Danny. I wasn't fucking staring... get a clue!" Damn but he makes my dick vibrate.

I've thought about my lack of side-sex a lot lately and concluded I'm partially responsible for it. Just like last week on vacation, it's exactly the same thing back home. It's like there's simply no side-sex possibilities that I'm interested in. Well I'm interested in buddy-sex possibilities with Hayden and Danny but nothing's come of that.

Damn though, it's gotta be I'm simply not open enough to possibilities, certainly not like I used to be, or I'm too picky or something. On the other hand, I'm rarely if ever horny so there's that factor to consider as well. Since I've been living with Rob there's been an abundance of sex. Still, I miss the variety and I guess I miss the feeling of being desired by someone other than Rob, at least once in a while. That's even embarrassing to admit to myself, but there it is.

So Monday was an uneventful work-day and so was the baseball game and then the week continues to be uneventful and I mean both at work and at 'home'. I'm not sure when I began thinking of Robby's house as my 'home', but I find myself doing that. Mr. and Mrs. Dickers, and of course Rob, all treat me great and I can't find fault with anything about living here... at all.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Mrs. Dickers is not someone who's especially demonstrative with affection but she's very pleasant to me and I think she likes me a lot. And Mr. Dickers is just as likely to tell me to do something as he is to tell Rob, like get the Sunday paper from the driveway or move the pickup because it's blocking where he wants to park his car, or anything. So I'm comfortable here and don't feel I'm getting special treatment of either a good or bad nature; I'm just one of the family so to speak.

I've witnessed Rob's Dad critiquing him about work or giving him advice about this or that, and then one night after dinner Mr. D. said he wanted to 'talk' to me in his office; his office at the house. This was the week before my vacation. I didn't have a clue what it might be he wanted to talk about and when I went in Mr. Dickers' office feeling apprehensive I sort of shrugged when he pointed at the chair next to him in front of his desk, and said, "Have a seat, Dylan." The shrugging wasn't a good look so I tried acting very interested and kept good eye contact.

He was very matter-of-fact saying he's been wanting to have a talk with me about a couple of things. It started out by him asking me what my plans were after graduation? Yeah, he's another one of those 'planner's like Rob. Or, I guess Rob's a 'planner' like his Dad, would be a better way to put it.

Anyway, even though he knows very well Rob wants me to work for him after graduation Mr. D. said, and I quote, 'You need to be prepared for unexpected eventualities in the business world, Dylan'. That didn't sound encouraging and then he gave me advice about working hard this year at college because, "What a 'boy' does at college is a good indicator of what he'll be like on the job". And just when I thought he was 'down' on me, he reversed directions and then praised my work this summer at Dickers & Son and told me to keep up the good work."

Okay, so I was encouraged until he added, "And be consistent... don't let-up giving one-hundred-percent until your last day of work. No coasting." Huh, I wondered if he's referring to my field interviews? So then I was feeling shaky again and even more so when he followed that up by saying he had two criticisms of my performance at work. So I was on a roller coaster ride of emotions, once again wondering if I'm in trouble. I've never had anything like a 'father/son talk' before in my life though so I was into it and hanging on his every word. Trying to keep an open mind, ya know?

Yeah, he put his hand on my shoulder and told me he'd recently read all the reports from the Division Manager, who's the guy my supervisor reports to. I'm nodding my head not sure if this is gonna be good or bad. Mr. Dickers looked me in the eyes, and said, "For one thing, Dylan, you haven't been nearly firm enough with the employees who told you basically that they couldn't be bothered listening to your presentation. I wish to hell I'd had a chance to read all your reports earlier." I nodded and he goes, "And I know, son, that some of the 'refuseniks' were managers. No matter though, you needed to set them straight and not be intimidated by their titles. I can't leave an opening for someone to claim they didn't realize this or that about the benefits, which is why everyone needed to listen to your presentation from beginning to end whether they wanted to or not. You're in charge and you needed to insist. You can't let them make the decision for you."

I wasn't sure how to react, so I muttered, "I'm sorry, I thought..." and he goes, "No, it's okay. It's Fred's fault for not making that clear to you. I've talked to his manager." Oops, I guess Fred's ass is grass. Anyway, I go, 'Thank you, sir," and I get that half-a-grin from him that he always shows when I say 'sir'. He went on to tell me, "And the other thing I want to mention, and it isn't a major big deal or anything, Dylan, but it's part of our company's protocol for, um... okay, it may sound silly to you but I noticed you in the executive office-wing without your suit coat on. Don't do that anymore, okay, son? A small matter perhaps, but you need to follow all the rules whether working for Dickers & Son or somewhere else. It indicates you're taking your job seriously," and he patted my shoulder, saying, "You're doing fine though, just a couple of small things I felt I should mention for your future benefit. Actually you've done a wonderful job overall and we're all very proud of you. Rob was on-point by insisting you were the right man for that job," and I got another pat on my shoulder, so ya know...

Like I said, that was two weeks ago and then it was even more awkward because I didn't know if our 'talk' was over, or what. Mr. Dickers must have realized that because he said, "Well, I just wanted to mention those couple of things," and he got up, so I did too, mumbling, "Thank you, sir." He sort of nodded his head at the door as I mumbled something like, "Okay then, um, I'll see what Rob's doing," and I left. Damn, I could have been cooler about it but I liked being critiqued by Mr. D. because I think it showed he cares about me.

I told Rob about it right away of course and he said, "Ah, fuck that! Dad thinks you're awesome, and so does Mom. Don't worry about that shit. Dad's always lecturing me. You actually got off easy, babe. Dad likes to pontificate sometimes." Feeling good about all of it, I goofed around, saying, "Oh, I didn't know that, BABE.' He laughed and yelled at me for using his term of endearment.

Anyway I thought that whole episode with Mr. Dickers was great. While I was savoring that Rob got me in a hug from behind and that led eventually to a hard, fast fucking with me almost fainting when we climaxed together. Holy shit, I love extemporaneous sex, especially with Robby leading the way. Our spur-of-the-moment sex, that's sometimes initiated by me too, but more often by Rob, is so, um... invigorating.

So that's a few of the things going around in my head Thursday night while Rob's driving us to my condo to have dinner with Chubby. Rob interrupts my musings by talking again about our time together in Wildwood. Hell, he keeps bringing that up so I know he had a great time! Naturally that makes me feel good and I enthusiastically reminisce about it with him.

As Rob's parking the pickup behind the condos he tells me that Danny will be at the pool house around seven-thirty for a haircut and asks, yes he asks, if I want a haircut too. 'Asks' instead of 'telling' me, which is a result of what he and I talked about three-weeks ago. Good to see Rob listens and his word is good. I already knew his word was good anyway.

I don't answer him right away about the haircut because I'm thinking two things: one, I'm only getting a 'trim' this time instead of the fad haircut, and, two, I wasn't going to do that until just before our first day back at Merrimack. But then, what difference does ten-days make and if Danny's getting a haircut tonight I might as well get one too, just not the same haircut and it's not just because Danny's getting a haircut either. I don't feel I'm in any kind of competition with him; we're way past that. It's just, I don't know, I like the idea of what Danny and Hayden said early in the summer about us gay boys sticking together, doing shit together and all that. So I say, "Well sure, Rob, I'll get a haircut tonight. I'm thinking about a different type haircut though. Ya know, instead of..." but he interrupts because Rob doesn't care nearly as much about hair or haircuts as I do, as he mumbles, "Whatever, babe. Just wanted to mention it."

Meeting Chubby for dinner, by the way, isn't anything unusual. From the first week of me living with the Dickers we've been having dinner with Chubby three-or-four-times a week, Rob and I. Tonight it's in Chub's condo where all three of us have prepared a meatball and pasta dinner and then while eating it Rob mentions he's doing haircuts tonight in case Chub's interested. Chub isn't, as he explains, "I've appreciated the cool haircuts this summer Rob, I really have, but I'm gonna be returning to my regular barber."

I know Rob doesn't care one way or the other as he goes, "No problem, Jeff." Chub swallows a whole meatball and, I guess, feels he needs to explain, saying, "You've been an awesome barber but I wanna do Merrimack shit at Merrimack, ya know?" Rob chuckles, mumbling "Well Jesus, I can't argue with well thought-out logic like that, Jeff!" We all laugh but I don't say anything because I'm not sure if Chub might be referring to Golden Summers. I don't think he is, but he mentioned Merrimack so... Chub says, "Yeah, Dylan been my exclusive barber for so long I kinda need to get back to my roots, ya know?" Rob goes, "Oh, I thought you might have meant, Golden. He's like the main college barber." Oh fuck, is Rob going to go to Golden again? I hope not! Chub goes, "Nah, Golden's cool but he's a 'hack' barber and can't cut hair for shit."

Well, I'm happy to hear that. I'm not returning to Golden's barbering either. We finish dinner and of course Chub's running late again for his date tonight so he takes off right after helping with a quick kitchen clean-up. Rob and I drive back to the pool house discussing whether or not there was too much oregano in the meat balls. Yeah, Rob's interest in cooking is getting out of hand. Ha ha... no, just kidding.

We don't see Danny's car when we get home so we kill some time shooting darts in the pool house. Rob sinks a dart almost in the bullseye, and says, "I really like those dinners with Jeff. You know, cooking together and everything. You're Your brother's so cool but I wish I could remember some of the funny shit he says." I go, "Yeah, Chub's a naturally uber cool dude alright!" Holding a dart, but not shooting it, Rob looks at me and says, "Hey, maybe Jeff would consider a job with Dickers and Son after graduating. Whaddaya think?" I throw a dart right at the bullseye and for once hit just outside it and, trying to be blasé about that shot, I'm like "Huh, I never thought of that, Rob. Well, actually, Chub doesn't know what he wants to do although I think he may be serious about going for his master's degree." And dammit, I still can't make myself face that issue.

Rob goes, "No shit? Does he know what university he'll go to?" I shrug, "Nah, nothing's definite yet." See, Rob wouldn't even think to ask if I might be considering going with Chubby. As far as Rob's concerned his and my future plans are already established. He's probably right about that too. I add, "I'll mention the job opportunity to Chub though... I'm sure he'll be flattered." Oh fuck, Chubby wouldn't anymore consider working for Robby than joining the Navy. It's nice of Robby to think of him though.

We give up on the darts and sit down in two of the 'director-chairs' as Rob lights a smoke, asking me, "Ya want a beer or something, Dylan?" I shake any head, mumbling, "No thanks," and then he sort of jumps in his chair, saying, "Oh shit, I forgot to tell you. Dodger talked to my parents." I make a startled expression and Rob goes, "Yeah, he called home if you can believer that. It was Friday when I was in Wildwood, not that he knew I was there. He, for once, called my Dad instead of me. I hear he'll probably be coming back to live in his condo or apartment, whatever the fuck it's called, but not until the week after we're back at Merrimack or the week after that. He needs to finish up a 'job' first, whatever that means. Dad didn't have a lot of details."

Fucking Dodger! I'm like, "So you don't know if maybe he has a job here?" Not that the needs one with $300,000 in the bank; money that hardly anyone knows about. Rob shrugs, "Hell, I have no idea what he plans to do for work. Nothing's ever definite with him." Well I am surprised Dodger called his Dad. I didn't know they were even 'talking'. Feeling uncomfortable talking about Dodger because of the 'secret', I mutter, "He called your Dad, huh?" Rob shrugs, "Fucking Dodger, ya know? I'm pissed he didn't call me. I tried calling him but it's like he has a new cellphone or something. It just rang and rang forever." I'm frowning, "Yeah? That's weird." Jesus, with Dodger you really never know what the fuck he's up to.

Rob starts to say something else but Danny comes storming through the pool house door all smiles, looking really, um, good... and that's putting it mildly. Damn, I don't know why I'm so taken with him lately. Well, by lately I mean all summer. I stand right up expecting another big greeting like the one I got at the baseball game, but he goes to Rob and they hug and do a quick-as-a-wink kiss on the lips. Fuck!

Danny gives me a pat on my shoulder and then messes-up my hair, rubbing my head, saying, "Haircut time, huh babe?" He calls me that too, but I don't mind. I'm like, "Ha, yeah, Danny," and, with his patented smile, he goes, "I'm first!" and I get a shoulder hug from him. Danny's the most touchy/feely guy I know with Hayden coming in as a distant second.

Rob's holding the barber's cape, muttering, "Well, c'mon, Danny, let's get this over with." Danny walks over and sits on the stool, saying, "This is so fucking cool! No more sitting in a barbershop reading stinky, two-months old magazines." Rob wraps the cape around Danny and then starts rearranging the barber clippers, scissors, and the other things on the bar as Danny looks over at me, asking, "Ain't this awesome, Dylan?" How can he always be so enthusiastic about every-fucking-thing? Ah, that's not fair. I'm just a little put-out he sort of ignored me when he came in.

So, still sitting in one of the director-type chairs, I shrug and sarcastically mumbling, "Yeah, Danny, it's super awesome." Getting home-haircuts is normal for me as the only times I've ever been in a barbershop are the few times Willie would take me and the last time that happened was a couple of years ago. It's new to Danny though. I mean in the sense that a friend is now his regular barber, but why he thinks it's awesome I couldn't tell you. I mean, obviously it's cheaper and more convenient for sure, but Danny's had random haircuts from friends in the past. I think I cut his hair once myself. Whatever...

Then Danny casually asks me, "Hey, babe, is it okay if it's tonight that I do your haircut?" What the fuck did he say? I go, "What?" and he says, "Yeah, I'm feeling it tonight, ya know? Rob won't mind if I take over for him, will you, Rob?" Rob turns-on the clippers mumbling, "Huh, you wanna do Dylan's haircut? Oh fuck, yeah I guess. If it's okay with Dylan, it's okay with me." Standing up, I'm like, "What the fuck are you talking about, Rob? Are you inferring Danny's going to give me a haircut? No way!" Rob mutters, "Don't get me involved, Dylan, please. You two fight it out."

Danny grins at me, saying, "Don't be a cunt, babe, you already promised me I could. We talked about it," and Robby says to Danny, "C'mon, Danny, sit up straight!" Danny mutters, "Sorry, Rob," and stops slouching on the barber stool as I go, "Hey, Rob, he doesn't know how to cut hair! He can't give me a fucking haircut." Rob chuckles, mumbling, "I told you to keep me out of it; both of you." Danny goes, "The hell I don't know how to cut hair! Rob taught me and I've watched the instructional videos, plus I did most of your friend's haircut that time he was here." I'm like, "My friend? Who's that, Marty West?" He shrugs, "I forget his name. It was like a month ago. Nice guy with dark hair." Yeah, it had to be Marty.

I'm flabbergasted that Danny actually thinks I'd be okay with this. It's obvious as hell that Robby is losing interest in barbering. I knew he would. He used to like doing haircuts and now he's like, 'Let's get this over with'. It was something new for him earlier this summer but now that he's mastered doing that stupid fad haircut there's no challenge to it anymore. I'd hate to think he just waned to prove he could do a haircut better than me. I hope that wasn't what it was all about.

The unfortunate thing for me is I now sort of do remember Danny mentioning something about doing my haircut some weeks ago. Yeah, it was way back before our last haircuts from Rob. Damn though, I don't remember what the circumstances were exactly, but whatever, c'mon, I can't believe we were being serious. Holy shit, what'd I tell him back then? I could have said anything considering I'm crushing on him like a thirteen-year-old girl crushing on Justin Bieber. Not that I blame the girl 'cause that guy is hot!

As I'm trying to sort this out in my mind Danny looks over again grinning at me, as he adds, "Anyway, you already promised, so don't act like you didn't." I mutter, "No, I didn't promise shit, Danny." Both Danny and Rob laugh as Rob goes, "I think you did, babe. Both of you mentioned it to me a month-or-so ago. And what's the big deal anyway?" Jesus, I hate when guys gang-up on me! And, do both of these guys have photographic memories, or what? As I light a cigarette all I can think to mutter is, "I don't remember promising anything..."

As Rob's giving Danny the exact haircuts we've gotten all summer, identical haircuts for Danny and me, I listen to them talk about fall baseball practice at Merrimack. They're saying that playing in the summer league has then way ahead of Merrimack's training schedule and blah, blah, blah... I sit here wondering what to tell Danny. I mean, I'd rather, much rather have Rob do my haircut because it's a sexy thing having Rob as my barber, and he also happens to be excellent at this hair style. I don't want this style though...and it'd be sexy as hell having Danny as my barber too. Yeah, I'm only getting a trim, not a full haircut at all, so it's not a crisis in either case.

I mean, how could Danny fuck-up a trim? Well, I guess he could actually but I can talk him through it maybe. Plus, I want Danny to be thinking about me for some buddy-sex sometime prior to the turn of the next century! And in all honestly I probably did, in a weak moment, tell him he could do my haircut sometime. I just don't recall precisely what I said about it. And yeah, I'm so pathetically into my crush on him I probably agreed to whatever, but dammit it's because I never have buddy-sex anymore!

While I'm still thinking of the pros and cons of Danny being my barber, Rob finishes Danny's haircut. I look over seeing a very short version of the same haircut Danny and I have been getting from Rob on a regular basis this summer. Danny's goes, "Thanks, Rob," as his hand runs up the sandpaper feel all the way up the back of his head. Everyone does that same thing after a really short haircut. It's like they're embarrassed about it or something.

Casually looking in the mirror behind the barber stool, Danny yells, "Hey, what the fuck, Rob? You cut too much off the top!" Robby shrugs, "You said you wanted it shorter on top so please don't give me any shit. Jesus, you guys always find something to bitch about." Yeah, Rob's lost interest in barbering, that's obvious. Damn!

Danny's running his fingers through the hair on top of his head, asking, "Whaddaya think, Dylan? Isn't this too short?" In a bored, uninterested manner, I mumble, "Whatever," and then look at him, and say, "No, it looks fine, Danny. It's the perfect length for you. Rob did an excellent haircut. You're the one who said it was too long on top, so get real!" Naturally I'm always gonna stick-up for Rob.

Danny shakes his head, "Yeah, it was too long before, but now it's too short." He's right of course; it is way too short because Rob over-uses those fucking, evil thinning shears, he just does. He's fucked-up my hair once or twice like that, but that was back at the beginning of the summer. I talked to him about it and he stopped overdoing it. Danny should have been more specific, too bad Danny.

Using a little brush specifically for that purpose, Rob's cleaning the clippers and not concerned about Danny's whining at all. I like that about Rob. Right from when he first started doing haircuts he does what he thinks is best and doesn't second guess himself. I like that confidence! He mutters, "Stop whining, Danny. Your hair is still longer now that it was when I first started giving you this style of haircut." Danny says, "Well yeah, you're right about that, Rob." He plays with his hair, pushing the bangs to the side, muttering, "You're right. Yeah, it looks good, Rob." See, Rob's confidence made Danny doubt his initial negative opinion, and now he's changed his mind and adopted Rob's opinion.

Of course the other thing is, Danny can't stay mad about anything for longer than two-minutes. He's great like that. Rob looks over, "Dylan, you wanna go next or are you gonna let Danny have a go at you?" Huh, Danny can have a 'go' at me anytime he wants as far as I'm concerned, but that's not what Rob's referring to obviously. Hmmm, what to do? Well, I'm just getting a trim so, like I thought earlier, how much could Danny fuck that up? Still a little unsure, I go, "What do you think, Robby?" He laughs, "Oh no ya don't. You decide for yourself! I don't want you blaming anything on me one way or the other." I mutter, "Thanks a lot for your advice, Rob," and he says, "Fuck it, babe, why not let Danny do it? I have some emails to answer for work anyway. Like a half-hour's worth of crap I didn't get to before we left work."

Nodding my head as I get up, I go, "Okay, Danny, you're my barber tonight." He does his big smile and comes right over to me to give me a hug and a peck on the cheek as my dick jumps around in my shorts a little. Danny goes, "Thanks for trusting me, Dylan," and he leads me over to the barber stool, saying, "Have a seat, sir, I'll be right with you." I can't help but grin at him. That fucker is so cute!

I can't fucking believe I never realized cute and sexy he is until this summer! I sit on the stool and Danny squeezes the back of my neck giving me sexy chills, as he tells me, "I did pretty fucking good with that Marty kid, right, Rob?" Robby's not paying attention, mumbling, "What? Oh, um, yeah I guess. I forget. See you guys in about a half-hour," and he pats my shoulder as he goes by and then he's out the door. I guess he'll catch-up on his work-related emails in his bedroom.

Danny's holding the barber's cape up, saying with his fabulous smile, "C'mon Dylan, sit up straight." Oh brother, he's imitating Robby. As I'm sitting up straight on the stool, I mumble, "I've been making a mountain out of a mole hill anyway, buddy. All I actually want is a trim." Danny fastens the cape around my neck, cheerily asking, 'What's that mean, babe?" I chuckle, "Are you fucking kidding me? You don't know what a 'trim' means?" He picks up the new clippers that Robby bought earlier in the summer, saying, "Not really. I just know how to do this one haircut. You know, our haircuts, Dylan. The style Rob's been doing." I go, "Sorry to disappoint you but I just need a trim around the ears and back. I'm letting my hair grow out like Rob's." He goes, "NO! Don't say that, babe! I'm all excited about giving you 'our' haircut. The one you and I have been rocking all summer. I don't wanna here about any 'trim' bull-shit."

I have to laugh, saying, "Jesus, don't get all worked-up, Danny. Anyway, the summer is over, dude. We're seniors at college and don't need to have fucking twin haircuts. And haven't you ever told a barber you just wanted a trim? You know, when you were letting a summer buzz cut grow out." The clippers in his hand are still running, so I say, "You can use the clippers if you want. Just comb the hair up around my ears and clipper it off. Neaten up around my ears and back. Christ, I can't believe I need to explain this."

He turns off the clippers and puts them on the bar and then, rubbing my hair with both hands, he says, "No! Fuck a trim, babe. You know very well how cool this style haircut is. You told me so a million times. It's you and me having the same hairstyle! What the fuck, Dylan? A trim... my ass! Trim a Christmas tree in a couple of months. We're gay buddies who stick together."

Oh boy! I chuckle at his 'Christmas tree' comment and then go, "Chill, Danny. Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Hey, let's wait for Rob to come back and he'll show you how to do a fucking 'trim'. Okay? You can still be the fucking barber so don't get your shorts in a bunch, for chrisakes." Then a thought passes through my brain that Rob only knows how to do this one hairstyle; this one haircut. When he tried doing more regular type haircutting in freshman year he was horrible at it. Hmmm, but still, I can talk him through it. I mumble, "It'll be okay, Danny. Just wait for Rob to get back."

Still standing behind me Danny puts his arms around me with the side of his face against mine as he says, "No, it's not okay. I wanna do this fad haircut for you now... and you look fantastic with it too. Pleeeeeze, babe..." I try to shrug out of his embrace but he chuckles and holds me tighter, saying, "You're fucking cute when you get upset." I go, "I'm not upset!"

Rubbing his cheek against mine, he murmurs, "You smell good too." I'm like, "Thank you for the compliment, you smell good too, Danny, but let's wait for Rob." He lets go of me, saying, "No, we're not waiting for Rob. You look too cool with this haircut, Dylan, so please just let me do it for you and stop being a child about it. I'll do it just this one time and you can decide about next time," and he kisses my cheek leaving the side of his face against mine. There's no way to see his expression because the mirror is behind us but I can tell he's grinning. I feel his cute dimples against my cheek. Damn, he does smell good, and he's so cool. I go, "Goddammit, I can never get the haircut I want!" He straightens-up, saying, "Good, you agree," and turns the clippers back on.

Oh screw-it, I should have just given-in from the start and saved myself the trouble because Danny can talk me into anything. Hell, he talked me into joining the baseball team and actually I'm wicked glad he did. With no hesitation Danny uses Rob's zero-setting clippers running them halfway up the side of my head with a half-inch-long clump of my hair hitting the cape and drifting down to my lap as he conversationally says, "Oh man, babe, your hair grows twice as fast as mine. You've got really nice hair too." I mutter, "Thanks, you've mentioned that before." He snickers, and then mutters, "Oh fuck, I need to..." and I feel him going over the same area on the side of my head he just did, but taking the clippers further up the sides this time and another clump of my hair drifts down to join the first clump. That's not good! Danny mutters, "Goddammit! Um, please don't talk while I'm doing this, babe. I need to concentrate."

The haircut takes a lot longer than Rob's haircuts so I'm hoping Danny's seemingly meticulous manner with the clippers, which is slow and seemingly careful, bodes well for me. I mean after his initial fuck-up. I guess I'm letting myself get optimistic. Maybe he's another idiotic savant of haircutting like uber cute, Sonny. Obviously I don't know what the haircut looks like because the fucking mirror is behind me, but I've got a really hard boner from Danny cutting my hair, compliments mostly of my fetish and that's been enjoyable.

The boner is extra hard because my mammoth crush on Danny won't be denied. The combination of my crush and my haircut fetish is something to behold, boner-wise. All the touching Danny's doing has me a little dizzy. The feel of his hand on my head as he gently pushes my head to the side or down, his fingers on the back of my neck, and him hovering over me... it's all so sexy. It all feels good, plus he's been making a quiet humming sound as he's cutting and that's been sort of hypnotizing me. I've been in a bit of a dreamy trance for the last ten-minutes, although there's nothing particularly unusual about me being in a trance.

Danny's taking a very long time with the clippers and the constant buzzing-sound they make is really in my head. Jesus, this might be a hardest boner I've ever gotten during a haircut and that's saying something, but now I'm starting to have a real concern that I might cum in my shorts. I don't though, and when he's finally done the clipper work I'm actually disappointed. It took forever but I'm sorry the haircut's almost over.

Danny hums away as he exchanges the clippers for those evil thinning shears. I want to tell him not to use them but this trance is too nice to screw around with so I keep quiet and hope for the best. I'm actually thinking this was a good idea until Danny begins aggressively using the thinning shears on the long hairs at the top of my head. "Crunch, crunch, crunch," is the sound the scissors make cutting through clean, dry hair. I'm astonished when I see the big glob of cut blond hair Danny casually pulls out of the comb and scissors and then drops on the cape. More humming from Danny as he cuts back through my hair again, front to back, "Crunch, crunch, crunch," and it goes on for a full minute. I need to stifle a gasp when I almost climax, making a gulping sound and getting red in the face. Danny stops cutting to again pull more piles of cut hairs from the teeth of the thinning screams, casually saying, "I'm cutting it just as short as Rob cut mine because you said it looked perfect." Oh fuck!

Rob comes back in the pool house as Danny's finishing-up doing the edging around my ears. He stands next to Danny looking at my hair for a few seconds before murmuring, "So did Dylan ask you to cut it shorter than I cut yours, Danny?" Danny says, "No, but this is like mine, Rob. It's, um, well yeah I guess it is a little shorter." Rob snorts out a chuckle, muttering, "A little?" Danny goes, "Hey! Anyway, I only thought mine was too short for a few seconds and then I agreed with you and Dylan that you did it just right." Rob chuckles again, mumbling, "Jesus. Actually you were right, I did cut too much off the top but you took more off Dylan's head." My face feels really hot and red listening to those two and I'm not enjoying my throbbing boner nearly as much as I was before Rob came in.

Those fucking thinning sheers though! Damn, I should never have shown Robby those fucking things way back when. Danny says, "So it's a tiny bit too short," and he easily runs the comb through my hair front to back. That tells me it's way too short and much too thinned-out. The ease of the comb sliding through very thinned-out short hair tells me all I need to know, but I don't feel like saying anything because what good would it do? Robby mumbles, "Just so ya know, Danny, I've always over-done it with those thinning shears too. Don't I, Dylan."

I roll my eyes, not that either of them standing behind me can see me do it. Danny says, "Um, look Rob, but it's still uneven in front, don't ya thing?" and I hear more, "Crunch, crunch, crunch," and I know I'm gonna cum in my pants, so I'm barely able to mutter, "Don't ya think that's enough, Danny?"

Danny does two more, "Crunch, crunch," and Robby goes, "Yeah, that's too much, Danny!" and he pulls the scissors from Danny's fingers. That's not encouraging at all! Rob drops the thinning shears on the bar and runs his finger along the side of my head as he's mumbling, "Not only is it too short on top, Danny, look at this line, and the higher line." He doesn't stay anything more, so I guess Danny gestured at him. After a couple of seconds, Danny goes, "Yeah, but look, Rob, the other side turned-out better I think," and Rob walks around and looks. "Yeah, it is a little better."

Danny combs through the short hair on top of my head again and comes up with another big glob of cut hairs from the last, "Crunch, crunch, crunch," as he asks Rob, "It's too short I guess, but do you think the top looks lopsided too?" When Danny ran the comb back through my hair the last time all the hairs stayed standing up. That tells me it's very short. Rob mumbles, "Yeah it is slightly lopsided but that's what happens with thinning shears. It took me a while to figure those fuckers out." Danny goes, "How do I correct that?" Rob snorts out another laugh and says, "Well, cutting more off will probably make it worse, so don't do that." It's as if I'm not here. Rob's chuckling and laughing is starting to piss me off!

Danny picks-up the regular barber scissors, saying, "I'm gonna try evening it off with these regular scissors," and he combs up my bangs cutting off another half-inch with Rob yelling, "No!" and then Rob starts laughing again as Danny sort of snorts out a laugh himself, before saying, "You prick, Rob. that scared me when you yelled. Fuck, dude, help me out here." Rob stops laughing and says, "Just stop fucking cutting his hair. It's like you're giving him a fucking flattop for chrissakes!" He takes the regular scissors from Danny too and then Danny undoes the cape around my neck and says, "All done, Dylan. Rob thinks it looks, um, good" and in a quieter voice, he adds, "For my first time."

I'm getting up doing the same thing Danny did when Rob finished with him, I'm feeling the sandpaper bristly hairs left on the back of my head all the way up and over the crown. Again I think briefly of the haircuts Ryan was giving me last summer and how similar these haircuts are. I bitched to Ryan about it constantly and now it's become a popular haircut of choice. Well, maybe not this version from Danny.

Turning around looking at my hair in the mirror I'm not surprised at the result. There are obvious shingles where Danny couldn't blend the bare clipper-length hairs with the slightly longer ones above. The fact he couldn't do that isn't surprising. What is surprising is that Rob can do it. At first glance it appears Danny managed to make it too uneven for even Rob to correct it. Oh boy...

Nothing negative I could say will change anything, so I lie, "Yeah, not too bad, Danny." It's totally a blow-job of a haircut of course! Worse than Robby's first effort and the top is way too short! Its shorter than the first time Rob used those thinning sheers on me and left hair barely long enough to lie flat. Actually it didn't lie flat at the crown on my fucking head. The hair at the crown was sticking-up bristly like a buzz cut and Danny's done the same fucking thing. I gotta accept the fact that me and haircuts simply don't see eye to eye, especially during the last four years. Extreme and/or bad haircuts have happened too often to be a coincidence so I'm mostly to blame for letting it happen time after time. It's like I barely give a shit about it anymore though.

So the haircut sucks, but why fuck Danny up about it? He certainly didn't screw it up on purpose. He's too conscientious and nice to do that, plus he's fucking cute. But then, it's not enough that I let it go, but now Danny wants reassurance that I think it's awesome, as he asks, "Seriously, Dylan, ya really think it looks good?" I do not recall ever mentioning anything about it looking good, but I nod, "Let's settle on... it'll have to do." He's all smiles like a big puppy dog taking that as praise, rubbing my head and squeezing my shoulders, saying, "Aren't you glad I talked you out of that trim you wanted?" I give Rob a 'look' and we both laugh with Danny going, 'What?" Danny must be looking at something totally different than what I'm seeing in the mirror.

It is what it is, and I enjoyed my boner... so we move on. The three of us have Cokes, smoke cigarette, and talk for a while, mostly about the baseball game tomorrow night, and then Danny says, "Hey, Dylan, you should try out for the Merrimack's team too. They have fall try-outs every year and you'd make it as a reserve player no sweat, babe! Wouldn't he, Rob?" I make a 'face, muttering, "Get serious," but those two try talking me into it just the same. No way am I a college baseball player!

Danny, as usual, needs to get home rather early so we all help straighten-up in the pool house, emptying ashtrays, straighten the chairs, sweeping up the hair off the floor, and putting the barber stuff away. Rob's finishing up and turning off lights while outside Danny gives me a fast hug, saying, "Thanks for letting me do your haircut. Hey, do you think I can do the..." but I interrupt gabbing onto his arm, saying, "Yo, Danny, when are you and me, you know..." He goes, "Be patient, Dylan, please! I want to do it with you as much as you do, okay? Oh, here comes Rob." He always tells me to be patient! What the fuck can I say to that?

Rob and Danny have a fairly fast 'goodbye' hug and then Rob and I go inside to say goodnight to his parents who are watching TV. Then, as we're going up the steps Rob's grinning, saying, "Tonight's the night. It's time, Dylan." I ask, "Time for what?" and he says, "For you to agree to take a shower with me in the hall bathroom." I shrug, mumbling, "Okay, boss... sure, let's do it." Robby goes, "That's my boy!" and after getting undressed we walk down the short hallway to the bathroom in our underpants with Rob bringing the new lubricant, Astroglide, with him just in case it's needed.

Inside the bathroom he kisses me on the lips, murmuring, "I'm proud of you, Dylan." I'm like, "Oh yeah, for what?" and he says, "For getting over your uncomfortableness about this hall bathroom and for not breaking Danny's balls about your bad haircut." I'm like, "Can you fix it?" and he goes, "Probably not, no! I don't think I can," and for some reason we both laugh at that.

After shampooing our hair we get into awesome shower-sex that leaves me hanging on Robby after my climax and thinking he's the sexiest, hottest guy on earth. As for showering together, I feel comfortable enough living here by now to do that, plus Rob's right that his parents aren't going to sneak upstairs and listen at the bathroom door! Plus, even his Grandparents totally know, and are fine with us being gay boyfriends, so it's all good.

Later in bed we make-out for fifteen-minutes and then have sex again. And so what if Danny's doesn't wanna do it with me. Robby does. No, I admit I still have a crush on Danny. He's so, um, I don't know... so hot. And the way he does buddy-sex is so unique too. He does it like it's lover's sex but somehow without it seeming out of place at all. Danny's a very excellent 'top' and then after the sex he acts like we did buddy-sex. It's over and he's talking about something totally different. I just wish the boy's libido was a tad more active, or a tad more something.

Friday at work I'm in the 'field' doing interviews at a site in the town of Wellesley, which is one of the richer towns in Massachusetts. My interviewees are members of the last of the lawn cutting crews that I need to make presentations to. I'm talking with guys who have the benefits package as well as those who are strictly part-time temporary summer employees, like me, who don't qualify for benefits. I've got to be sure everyone knows their status as far as benefits goes, especially after the 'talk' Mr. Dickers had with me.

This is the crew that does the huge and important landscaping properties, not like the lawn cutting crews I was a part of in past years, so most of these guys are full time employees. In the winter they do snow removal and/or excavation with big machinery. A nice group of guys actually and I'm done by two o'clock so I mostly goof-off back at the office for the rest of the day.

After work Rob and I have dinner at 'home' and then go to our Friday night baseball game. Rob's pitching tonight so I really hope I don't get in the game. It'd be too much pressure on me. I would not want to make an error in the field and screw it up for Rob. The game starts with me on the bench, so that's good. I miss seeing Hayden at the games this week but as usual J.J. Benintendi sits next to me and never shuts-up. That's not a problem though. I've grown to like him and even enjoy his bizarre over-confidence about how he's going to 'fuck me like I've never been fucked before'.

I mean, we're also paying attention to the game because we never know when the Coach might call on us. Anyway, J.J.'s funny and sometimes funny even when he's not trying to be, and occasionally he even has to snort out a laugh at his own bullshit. Seriously though, I almost gave in to him once about sex. I was thinking I'd do it as a favor to him, and I know that sounds conceited but that's what it would be... a favor. Not that I've ever actually followed through with it, but I almost did that one time. It's like it's just nice that there's someone still desiring my ass even if it is only the Coach's goofy nephew. Ultimately though J.J. just doesn't register as sexy to me in any way so I probably won't ever do anything with him.

It's the bottom of the seventh inning, and we play only seven innings in this league, I'm feeling bad for Rob because we're trailing the Cubs, 2 to 1. Rob pitched a great game, all seven innings but it looks like he's going to be the losing pitcher. Teddy Ryan leads off the bottom of the seventh with a double, but two batters later he's still on second base... now with two outs. Coach motions for me to pinch hit, "Newman, bat for Kyle." Oh balls! I'm like, "Yes, Coach!" and J.J. pats my ass, muttering, "Hit it outta here, Newman." Nervous as I've ever been in my life, I get my bat, the one I bought when Rob and I went shopping weeks ago. I'm really nervous stepping up to the plate. All my teammates are yelling encouragement as I'm telling myself... 'Don't think, dummy... just swing'.

I let the first pitch go by for "Strike one!" The second pitch is what's known as a pitcher's mistake. It's a change-up that the pitcher leaves right over the plate and I swing free-and-easy and hear a big, PING! and the ball just makes it over the short left field chain link fence for a walk-off home run. Everyone on my team is screaming and jumping up and down as I run around the bases hardly believing this happened a second time in the same summer. I hit a walk-off double earlier in the summer.

The whole team is at home plate patting me on the head and back and it might be the best couple of minutes of my life! This home run made Robby the winning pitcher. The feeling of being a hero for my ecstatic teammates is indescribable... it's such a rush winning the game, and like I said, especially because it's for Rob. His second win of the summer.

Oh man, the whole team, every one of them, walks to the bar that's down the road from the park and all the guys are buying me shots and beers. No sex tonight 'cause Rob is getting accolades as the winning pitcher and we're both getting smashed celebrating that win. When we get home at ten-thirty, which is an early Friday night for us, we don't waste much time in the bathroom before falling into bed and then, clutching each other, we go to sleep drunk.

Naturally we're hungover Saturday morning which is a bitch because we've got things we absolutely must do today. We need to get Dodger's mail, also we need to go online to do the tedious pre-registering for senior year, and we still need to choose our courses and order our textbooks. Today's the last day we can do any of that online and it's very rare for Robby to let something go to the last minute like this, especially when a week ago Rob said we definitely need do all this shit last weekend. We didn't do it though and Wildwood had something to do with that plus, in defense of Rob, the cut-off date is two-weeks earlier than it was last year as is the start of Merrimack's senior year. I don't know why that is and neither does Rob, it just is. We also need to drive to North Andover and settle on an apartment for this year, which we should never have let go until ten days before the start of first semester! So we need to do all that while dealing with hangovers, and you know what? Hitting that walk-off home run last night was worth all my troubles today, and a lot more too!

With these killer hangovers Rob and I are in the kitchen taking Advil with big gasses of orange juice to replenish liquids in our dehydrated bodies. After that Rob pours us mugs of coffee while telling his Mom we don't want breakfast this morning. Back in our bedroom I stand behind Rob as he's sitting at his desk logging onto Merrimack's website. We spend a pain-in-the-ass hour-and-forty-minutes taking care of senior-year business with Robby doing almost of it while getting pissed-off discovering, one by one, that courses we wanted are at capacity and we needed to take alternatives. There's also two of the text books we need back-ordered and we missed out on discounts available for ordering early. Cursing and grumpy we somehow get through all the shit we needed to do.

After taking more Advil we first drive to Bank of America and park with Rob muttering, "I'll get the check. You can just stay here if you want." I shrug because I don't know what he's talking about. He's back in ten-minutes, muttering, "I got it," and then we drive to Dodger's apartment without much conversation. I almost doze off in the silence. Silence with Rob, like with Chubby, doesn't bother me one bit. At Dodger's we quickly take care of his mail before heading for North Andover to see about an apartment. During that hour's drive we begin reviving a little from our hangovers as the Advil starts doing its job.

Rob goes, "I'm mostly resigned to us ending up back at Royal Crest Estates but just to be sure it's our best option let's check out a couple of alternative apartments, okay?" I make a face because that sounds like a pain in the ass but Robby goes, "Just so we do our due diligence and are in the best apartment for the buck." I go, "Sure," and we check-out two alternative apartment complexes hoping for an upgrade from last year's apartment. It's slow going waiting for someone to take us through the available rentals in both places and then finding out the rents are too high anyway. A waste of an hour-and-a-half but I keep that to myself. Rob's being conscientious while I know we already had the best deal right across the fucking street from Merrimack.

Frustrated with that and having had no breakfast or lunch we stop at a convenience store for something nutritious to eat. We both grab packages of Twinkies and cans of Cokes. At the check-out counter I get a roll of Necco Wafers and Robby grabs a bag of Skittles. Outside the store we eat the Twinkies in about a minute and then suck down half a can of Coke each. I go, "That hit the spot!" Rob nods and says, "I admit we're not going to find a reasonably priced apartment that's significantly better than our place last year. I wonder if we can get our old apartment back? Fuck these new places." I shrug, "Yeah, okay. They renovated the apartment we had last year. It was almost like new."

We sit in the pickup finishing our Cokes as Rob goes, "Those things," pointing at the roll of Necco Wafers I'm holding, "Taste like chalk." I go, "They do not!" and he mutters, "The pink ones taste like Pepto-Bismol." I go, "You're full of it. I love these things. This is an original New England candy first made in 1847. Those Skittles you have are a British candy made first in 1974 and weren't even in America until some company bought them out and started selling them here in 1979. They're not even American, um, inventions." He looks at me for a second and then laughs out loud, "How the fuck do you know all that shit?" I mumble, "I know shit." He says, "You got that from your brother's factoids, didn't you?" Shrugging, I'm like, "Maybe...um, I forget exactly."

After taking Rob's empty Coke can and my own to the recycle bin outside the convenience store Rob drives us to our old apartment complex: Royal Crest Estates. Everyone gets the name wrong when discussing this complex and that's understandable since there is nothing remotely estates-like about it. It's a huge apartment complex with an entrance right off route 114 and almost directly across from part of the Merrimack campus. The large Tudor-style buildings have many apartments in each building and therefore big parking lots. That's the 'estates'... buildings and parking lots. It's all set in acres of trees with winding roads and actually does look very nice from route 114 although this place has been here a long time so it's beginning to look its age too.

Like I reminded Rob, our apartment last year was renovated the summer before we rented it and we're hoping, but not holding our breath, we'll get the same apartment. Turning into the familiar entrance we drive to our old building and park in the lot at the back, the lot I could never find a parking spot in last year. Rob says, "This is probably a fool's errand but let's see if our last year's apartment is vacant. That way we'll know what we're dealing with when we speak to the rental agent."

Shrugging, I get out of the truck not sure why Rob thinks the rental agent would lie about it one way or the other. We try to punch in the password code at the back door and of course it's been changed. I mutter, "Hit our old apartment's number on the key pad." Rob pushes the button for our old apartment and a distorted girl's voice, says, "Is that you, Pablo?" We turn around and walk back to the pickup with Rob muttering, "I can't fucking believe I'm just now dealing with our apartment for senior year! What was I thinking? I never leave things to the last minute. Fuck!" I don't say anything because it's a waste of energy to dwell on things you can't change. Anyway, that isn't the only renovated apartment out of the couple-of-hundred in this complex. Rob's just frustrated because today has sucked and we're still dealing with these friggin' hangovers.

We drive to the rental office and inside we try smiling and being pleasant even through the agent is a grouchy man with a nose that looks like a baked potato. He interrupts our fake-cheerful greeting by holding his hands up, saying, "Please don't tell me you're Merrimack students looking for an apartment less than two weeks before the beginning of the semester. Don't tell me that!" I wish Chubby were here.

Rob keeps the smile in place, saying, "I'm afraid so," and then he does the smart thing: he lies. "We were in the new dormitory across the street but my roommate's parents at the last minute decided to treat us to an apartment for our last year of college, so..." The man holds his hands up again and then does an exaggerated 'look' at his wristwatch, saying, "I've heard a dozen sob stories today already, and it's almost time to close the office until Mon..." I hit his desk with my hand interrupting him and with a defiant-sounding voice, I go, "Forget the fucking sob-story rap! Alright? This is a business transaction. We want to rent one of these apartments, this office is still open, it's your job to rent apartments, so what's available?"

Potato-nose opens his eyes wide pulling his head back and then without further conversation starts typing on his computer. He looks up, "We have three vacancies left for Merrimack students. They're all in the same building and they're all furnished one-bedroom apartments for $1250 a month. That's it, no other choices." Rob looks at me and I raise my eyebrows, like, 'Go ahead, boss,' and Robby says, "Let's have a look at them."

Potato-nose makes a huffy sound and gets up to get three sets of keys off a board and then pulls out a sheet of paper that shows a diagram of the entire apartment complex. He circles the building with the empty apartments and puts an 'X' where we are at the office. Handing the paper and three sets of keys to Rob, he says, "The apartment numbers are on the keys. You've got ten minutes to make your selection and get back here to deal with the finances." Rob takes the keys and 'map' as the man, looking like he 'got' us, mumbles, "Certified check only... for first and last month's rent." I'm thinking, 'oh shit' but Rob mumbles, "Of course," so I brighten up. I'd never have remembered to get a certified check in advance. Oh, that must be why we stopped at the bank. Duh!

Outside I'm like, "You've got a certified check, huh? How did you know how much to make it out for?" Rob's studying the 'map' muttering, "Whaddaya mean? You and I looked up the cost for the apartments here to see if the price went up. It was right after getting our courses for this semester." I go, "Oh yeah, that's right." That must have been when I was staring at Rob's 'look-of-concentration' as he was frustratingly hitting the keys on his computer fast as lightning. Actually I was fantasying about him and I getting naked and fucking with me leaning over the keyboard. Or maybe it's when I was looking at Rob's longish blond hair and thinking how cool he looks. Oh hell, it could have been any one of ten fantasies I had in my head while Rob was taking care of business on his computer.

We need to drive to the building that potato-nose circled on the 'map'. It's way in the back and the location sucks as compared to last year's apartment. The whole time we're driving there Rob's mumbling under his breath about how 'this blows'. There's a key to the front door of the building. We use it to go inside and down the hall to the first apartment that's on the first floor. Rob uses a key to get inside and we walk around seeing that the floor plan is the same except one in this apartment we had last year but this one hasn't been renovated since before the first moon walk. Rob doesn't say anything, and I don't either. We just leave, slamming the door behind us.

The second apartments on the second floor has a balcony that looks out at a, um, forest I guess you'd call it. Nothing but trees as far as we can see. I mumble, "The parking lot is in front I guess." Rob makes a 'face' at me, and then says, "Yes, the one we parked in five-minutes ago." I'm like, "Don't get snippy with me, Robert! You're the one who left this to the last minute." He goes, "Oh, and you didn't. Is that it?" I mutter, "You're the planner, not me." With that we walk around, and decide this place is okay. The living room furniture looks like it's only a couple of years old but the mattress on the bed sags. Unlike our last apartment, this one is on the end and therefore has an extra window in the bedroom and a window in the bathroom. That's a very good feature. Rob and I exchange 'looks' as he mumbles, "Sorry, I was grumpy," and I go, "Me too. Let's take this place," and he nods, and that's it.

Outside again, at the pickup, Rob's like, "I like that it's an end apartment, and it's in the last building in this whole fucking complex, so nice privacy." I go, "Ditto," and we drive back to the office. Mr. Potato-nose is on the phone when we walk in so we plop ourselves down in the two 'client' chairs in front of his desk and wait. It takes a while for the man to settle something with whoever is on the other end of the phone, but finally we're into the paperwork, shocking the man when Rob produces the certified check for the exact amount required. There's unnecessary explanation about how to pay the rent etc. because we've been tenants here for the past three-years and are well aware how things work around here, and so forth. We listened though because of Rob's initial lie about apartment living being new to us.

Walking out of the office I feel good... it's nice knowing where we'll be living. We go back to 'our' apartment to walk from room to room again. There's a living room, small kitchen, bedroom and bath. As we're doing that we're planning what we'll need to change in here to make it livable. We decide to splurge and buy a new mattress for the bed, one that we'll be donating to the next year's renters I suppose, but our bed is so important it's worth the money. Leaning on the kitchen bar Rob goes online and we find a high-end, knock-off of a brand name mattress, for five-hundred dollars at Bob's Discount Furniture that Rob buys on the spot using his debit card, mumbling, "You owe me two-hundred-fifty-dollars, babe."

Fuck the money now that I know Chub and I saved over three-thousand by not needing any of our summer earnings for the car. I mutter, "No problem," and we buy new pillows too. We'll bring our own bedding I guess. Damn, a new mattress and pillows! It'll be our bed and I love that! We'll need to make arrangements at the office for a Monday delivery and we need to pay an extra fifty-bucks to have them take the old mattress with them, but fuck it... a new bed! The delivery arrangements for here are made via email to security and also cost money. Everything cost money. Rob handles that via his debit card, mumbling, "Make that three-hundred-dollars you owe me, Dylan." I shrug, "Fine."

Walking around some more Rob is typing reminders into his smart phone of things we'll want to bring with us and then I go, "We've got a new mattress and pillows, Rob, but last year's sheets, blankets and bedspread are old ones from your parents. Um, let's get new stuff..." He looks up and goes, "Yeah," and then spends fifteen minutes surfing on Amazon to get the best bargain, and free delivery in five-to-six business days. Okay, now we've got a 'new' bed!

When we move in we'll also be putting all the dishes and silverware in a box to go in the apartment's storage unit because we'll be using the ones Rob's Mom gave us last year, plus there are things like a Keurig coffee maker, computers, TV's and lots of other things we'll need to supply ourselves. We're in the apartment an hour and then back outside with both of us smiling and high-fivin'. Robby's like, "I can't believe we got every-fucking-thing done, babe!" I go, "Yeah, but now I'm starving."

Less than a quarter-mile down route 114 is a Fuddruckers restaurant. It's at the end of a sort of an upscale strip mall, although that may be an oxymoron. Anyway that's where we go to have an early dinner. The food is always cooked-to-order at Fuddruckers but that's not the main reason the burgers are so delicious. It's because they're very greasy! A lot of the taste comes from the beef fat. I know I'll probably feel like I do after I eating a Kentucky Fried Chicken meal, but I'm willing to deal with that. It's like the greasy burger at Fuddruckers and the grease in a Kentucky fried chicken meal both usually leave me feel slightly dizzy and almost sick to my stomach for a while... ha ha. Yeah, but that's not to say I don't enjoy the hell out of the fried chicken and burger while I'm eating those meals.

No problem parking because its early for the supper crowd. Inside there's only two groups of people ahead of us placing their orders. At Fuddruckers you put your order in and pay for it. They give you a buzzer to hold while you're choosing a table and the buzzer goes off when your food is ready. We both order the half-pound cheeseburgers and fries platter which includes what they call 'hand-spun shakes, which are milkshakes. Or at least Fuddruckers' versions of milkshakes. That combo is $13.25 each and because we missed both breakfast and lunch we both get side orders of chicken fingers and dips for $5,00, plus onion rings for $3.00. So, plenty of food for a little over $20,00 each... no tipping.

After taking our time eating everything we stagger out of Fuddruckers and I'm feeling okay. I think maybe the imitation milkshake absorbed most of the grease. Anyway it's still only five-thirty and we've done everything we started out to do, plus we've finally pretty-much come out the other side of our hangovers, so we're feel fine again. Rob goes, "Damn, let's go crazy and check-out AutoFair of Haverhill. I wanna look at new cars now that we're on a roll." He's hoping to move up to a passenger car from his beloved pickup but, oh man, that pickup has been the site of so many of our early sexual encounters I hate to see it go. Nowadays they don't make trucks with full front seats like Rob's old pickup had... everything has bucket seats in front.

Before looking at cars though I want to check-in with Chubby. He and I are looking for a new car too. New to us, I mean. The trouble with that is Chub's still in Framingham. I text Chubby and he goes, "You're looking at cars, bro?" I tell him where we are and he says, "Fuck that, look for cars around here." I mumble, "Hold on, Chub," and look at Robby. He goes, "What's wrong?" and I tell him we should look for cars around where we live. Rob shrugs, "Yeah, okay," and I tell Chub we'll pick him up in an hour, which works out find because he hasn't had dinner yet.

We drive back to Framingham with Robby and me both in positive frames of mind now that we accomplished everything we set out to do. Rob says, "We're an excellent team, Dylan." I nod, "Yeah, we are," and he asks, "How ya feeling?" I'm like, "Good, Rob, um, yeah, surprisingly good." He's like, "Damn, we did everything! That's fantastic!" Huh, the 'old' Robby would be moaning about us not getting our first choices of courses this semester and bitching about us leaving everything until the last minute. The 'new' Robby looks at the bright side, like me, and is satisfied with what we got. Who knows, maybe our second choices for elective courses will be better than our original ones... ya know?

We get on route 125 heading for route 128 south as Rob's saying, "I don't want to get maudlin on you, babe, but damn, you make me so happy. I loved that you moved in with me. I've loved every minute of it and it's so much fun doing everything together. It makes everything, um, I don't know, fun." I go, "Yep, it's been really cool, Rob. You had a good idea there about me moving in with you," and he goes, "Actually I never thought you'd do it, but you just said, 'Yeah, okay'. That was so cool of you!" I go, "That's me, mister fun, mister cool."

During the next forty minutes of our drive back to Framingham we talk ourselves into thinking this years' apartment is actually better than the one we had last year and then we laugh about me snapping out at the potato-nose in the rental office. I can still feel the heat in my head when I did that without even thinking I was going to. It gets to a point sometimes when ya just want to scream at people who aren't being fair or aren't doing their fucking job. I don't know, I just snapped...

Finally we're getting off route 128, waiting for a break in the traffic to drive onto route 9 when Rob looks over and says, "I wish I had... um, oh never mind," and I'm like, "What? What were you going to say?" He shakes his head and I go, "C'mon, tell me." He says, "It's just that I'm sorry about that haircut Danny gave you. It's nice of you not to bitch about it but I should have stayed and helped him out Thursday night instead of doing those dumb-ass emails." Running my fingers through my short hair, I'm like, "Is it looking really bad?" And dammit, I haven't thought about it all day until now! Rob nods his head, muttering, "Oh yeah, it's bad," so I go, "C'mon, you can do something fix it up." He looks at me, mumbling, "Um, ah, no. I can't save it, Dylan. Cutting it shorter would just make it worse unless I cut it all off in a buzz cut."

Huh, that's not a bad idea but that would hurt Danny's feelings something awful. I go, "Nah, I'll let it grow out. My hair grows fast." Rob mumbles, "I'm sorry about the whole thing. Sorry I brought it up too, babe." I'm sorry he did too because now I'm thinking about next week in Connecticut, and then my first week of senior year with this horrible home-haircut. Fuck, I'll wear a hat. Problem solved! Rob drives us onto route 9 in Natick, which is one town from our hometown so we're only ten-minutes-or-so from the condos. I ask Rob, "You losing interest in barbering, Rob?" He shrugs, "Yeah, I guess." Apparently he doesn't feel like expanding upon that reply.

The traffic on route 9 sucks as usual but we get to my place and Rob parks in back of the condo. Sitting in the idling pickup I text Chubby and after waiting a minute, I'm like, "We could sit here all day. I'll go get him." I go in through my finished basement and out the front door and then up to Chubby's. He answers the door, saying, "Oh, hi bro, I was just about to text you back." He looks so innocent, like nothing wrong with replying to a text message in your own sweet time, and saving me the trouble of coming up here. I go, "No problem," and we do a hug without even thinking about it. He says, "I'm trying to find my wallet." My brother... the absent minded professor.

Oh man, we start looking and after five-minutes of going through all the stuff on the bedroom floor he finds his wallet in a pair of shorts he wore a couple of days ago. They were in the corner under a pile of dirty clothes. He goes, "Hey, there you are mother-fucker... gotcha!!" and that's it. He puts his cellphone in his back pocket, saying, "Ready to go, bro?" as if I was holding us up. I snicker and mutter, "Yeah, I think I've got everything. Um, is your cellphone charged?" He goes, "I don't know," and pulls it back out of his pocket, nodding his head, "Yeah, I've got about twelve-percent left on the last charge battery. Good to go."

Rob drives the three of us to the Natick AutoFair with Chub asking, "Why an AutoFair dealership?" and I shrug and point to Rob, who says, "It doesn't need to be AutoFair, but they advertise on TV all the time about great deals and they have a shit load of different cars to choose from too. It's not just a Ford dealership for example. I thought we'd look there first but we can go to any car dealership you want."

Like I said, Natick is the town over from Framingham so it's close by, but it's located in an out of the way place in an awkward confluence of a few major highways requiring some careful driving to get into the parking lot. Once there we get out and start looking around wondering how we should go about this. Chub asks me, "Hey, bro, do you think we have enough money for a new car of some sort?" He doesn't know anymore about cars than I do. I shrug, "Probably not, Chub, and anything we could afford would probably be something we don't want. We can look though."

We're not sure where to start. There are a hundred-or-so new cars on the lot and then a salesman appears out of nowhere and introduces himself and then quickly ascertains it's Rob who he needs to put the sales pitch on. Chub and I follows those two as they stroll up and down the aisles of new cars with the salesman enthusiastically telling Rob the virtues of every car we pass.

Finally, after an agonizing hour, agonizing for Chub and me, it's a Ford Explorer that Rob seems to be enamored the most with. A four-door, four-wheel-drive, SUV that I guess is considered mid-sized. Like I said, I don't know shit about cars but this one looks, um, very sensible. I mean it's not cool at all, but I suppose it's functional in a number of ways. It'd be good for hauling stuff in the back, plenty of luggage space, and the four-wheel-drive will be excellent in the New England's snowy winters, plus after putting the backseats down, screwing would be possible back there. Just saying...

Robby's pretty sure that's what he's going to tell his Dad he wants; a Ford Explorer. Chub and I can now go to the used car lot with Robby coming along, asking, "What's the most money you guys can spend?" Chub says, "With your birthday present to Dylan, and your parents' gift, plus what he and I are using from the money we earned this summer, and mostly with the twins' ten-thousand dollars we'll have as much as fifteen-thousand-dollars, plus whatever the Jeep is worth. We're trading that in obviously." The Jeep is unlikely to be worth much but why add negativity into the conversation, so I keep my mouth shut.

We're without a salesman presently because the salesman following Rob drifted-off when Rob told him the new car purchase would be made by Dickers & Son's purchasing and lease department, and as Rob explained, he isn't in that department and doesn't have much of a say about it. I could almost hear the salesman thinking, 'No shit, kid' as he slinked away muttering to himself. Fuck 'em..

It's mere moments though before Chub and I are accosted by one of the used car salesman, or as they put it 'previously owned' salesman. The guy has a black suit on with a red bowtie and his name is, Sammy Thornburg. He's like a caricature of a used car salesman. I'm not sure he's not putting us on but Chubby does all the haggling with Sammy so he'll figure it out one way or another. Frequently I need to bite my tongue not to laugh out loud listening to Chubby pile on the bull-shit. Yeah well, my brother likes to have fun in whatever he's doing. I'm sure Sammy isn't following most of Chubby's rap because, while Chubby looks at Sammy while he talking, he's mostly trying to get me to laugh. Sammy frowns a lot while nodding his head, mumbling, "Um, uh huh, I see what you're saying," although he doesn't.

In the end Chub and I, and Sammy, all agree on a fully-loaded 2014 Kia Soul with only 15,000 miles on it. Of course Sammy agreed with every car we considered. This one is a funky-green color with plush black interior listed for $13,499. That's before Chub explained, "Sammy, um, this vehicle was built in South Korea. Did you know that? I mean, we can all agree that's certainly preferable to it being built in North Korea, but not as good as if were built in Japan. Do you know what I mean, Sammy?" It went like that and a lot more until Sammy agreed to drop the price to $13,000, perhaps just to get Chubby to stop talking. Chub holds out his hand for a handshake, saying, "You drive a wicked hard bargain, Sammy-my-man, but ya got yourself a deal!" Sammy muttered something about losing money on the transaction. Oh, I'm so sure!

As we're walking to the dealership office there's more haggling by Chubby trying to get Sammy to throw in a set of snow tires, "You can do that can't you, Sammy. Sweeten the deal 'cause I can tell my brother's getting buyer's remorse already." I caught Sammy looking up at the sky probably wondering why one of the other salesmen hadn't attached themselves to Chubby. Finally Sammy agrees to eliminate the transportation fee which sounds like bullshit. No snow tires though. Sammy's got his own rap apparently.

Inside the dealership Sammy's manager comes over and one thing leads to another and we have a final deal depending on the condition of our Jeep, which Chub has beat the living shit out of the last four-years. No matter though because Chub's guaranteeing the manager the Jeep's in pristine condition. After the appraisal we'll need a cashier's check for the difference, plus sales tax. There are other bogus charges that the manager made a gulping sound when Sammy admitted, looking sheepish, that he waved those charges to close the sale. Chubby, with his big irresistible smile, says, "Sammy negotiated the hell out of us, didn't he bro?" I'm nodding my head like a bobblehead doll as Robby snickers and the manager gives Sammy a disgusted 'look'. I'm not so sure Sammy's so-called, waved-charges, even existed to start with. I've heard that used car salesmen do not have the best reputation for being forthright.

Actually we could have gotten a more expensive car than the Kia but we liked the goofy-green color and the boxy appearance, plus there's only 15,000 miles on it, and most of all Chub and I like that we don't need to put in any of our summer-job money like we expected we'd need to. All our birthday money and the trade-in will cover the $13,000 and the sales tax too. We can keep all our summer earning to use for college.

While Rob's wandering around looking at cars inside the big dealership building and paperwork is being generated, Chub murmurs to me, "Let's keep our finances to ourselves, Dylan." Nodding, I go, "Oh of course, Chub." I can do that. And then when Rob and I are married I'll keep those finances between Rob and me. Anyway, I think Chub meant we shouldn't brag that we have quite a bit of money left over. You know, because Robby gave me five-hundred dollars for my birthday.

Pooling our money, the three of us come up with a hundred-dollars in cash which is all Sammy needs to 'hold' the car for us until tomorrow, Sunday. I can hardly believe we just bought a new car! We'll be back with the Jeep tomorrow to get it appraised and then Monday Chub will take off work early to bring a cashier's check for the rest. Chubby and I are really happy and excited about our new funky 'ride' because it's actually almost like, um, new. We're hugging and high-fiving each other like we're kids with a new bike at Christmas. Our Jeep was never almost 'like-new'. We bought the Jeep four-years ago... four years ago almost to the day! The only other person who seemed happier than Chub and me was Sammy.

Chubby has a date tonight, and so do Rob and I. We're each other's 'date' which is very convenient and stress free. Neither Rob nor I feel especially rambunctious so after dropping Chub off we drive home and hang-out in the pool house Saturday night to finish recovering from our epic hangovers. Hayden's still sick in bed so Danny doesn't have a date tonight either. He texts Robby to see what we're during and then joins us in the pool house. We're all sipping beers and talking about cars, then talking about the Pats, then senior year, then about Hayden's disease.

Opening a third beer for all of us, Danny tells us about his new roommate for senior year, a guy named Carl Hill. I've never met him although Carl's been at Merrimack since freshman year. I tell them about Chubby doing dormitory living again this year with his friend John Beverly, and Danny goes, "Ya know, roommate-wise, it's easier for straight guys like your brother, Dylan. They know each other is sexually straight but while my roommate, Carl, knows I'm gay I don't know about him. He's hinted in our texts that he's maybe bisexual, but he's not sure. And I didn't ask him about it either; he just brought it up on his own so I don't know what he is."

We all think most guys who claim to be bisexual are mostly gay, but that's probably a prejudicial viewpoint on our part. We claim many bisexuals have stronger leaning to their gay side except they decide to live in the straight world because it's more convenient. I go, "I don't blame them for acting straight because society has totally twisted themselves in knots about homosexuality and I guess abortion too." Robby says, "I think the gay issue and religious intolerance are the two main bones of contention throughout recorded history. I mean more so than the abortion issue, which is more a modern debate. I'm surprised Rob even brought that up for obvious reasons. I have nothing to add to that and Danny rarely has anything to add to anything unless it's about sports.

Changing the subject, I'm like, "Well Danny, what's your 'possibly-bisexual' roommate look like?" He shrugs and goes, "Carl's, um, he's average looking I guess you'd say. I mean, assuming the picture he sent me was actually him." Then smirking, Danny adds, "I sent him a pix of me. I took a 'selfie' just before sending it and he texted back saying I was beautiful." Rob makes a face muttering, "Gag me with a cellphone... who the fuck says a guy's beautiful?" Danny mutters, "Just saying, I don't know..." and Rob mumbles, "Are you sure this guy isn't a raging 'flamer'?" Hmmm, is Rob jealous?

Nah, that couldn't be. I'll try to remember the name, Carl Hill, and look him up on Facebook when I get the chance. Poor Danny though, he needs to deal with another basically unknown roommate. That must be a pain in the ass. And only last week I brought up the subject again to Rob that we should invite Danny into the apartment this year with us. Omigod, he emphatically shot that down... again. As it turns out I guess, that was fortuitous because there were only one bedroom apartments available at this late date.

When we're on our fourth beers I just sit back chilling' and listening to Rob and Danny get into a serious discussion about this year's Merrimack baseball team. They're both intently interested in that topic. I'm intently interested in looking at both of them. They're looking cool and sexy-hot tonight. I'm infatuated with both those boys and feel lucky to be included prominently in their lives, especially Rob's obviously. Without realizing it was happening I get the hardest boner in my pants watching those two hot-sexy guys talk. Their mouths are sexy, all pink with nice white teeth and clear bubbly saliva. Oh Jesus, I need to get a grip! And then my hard dick gets me fantasizing about us having a three-way, Rob, Danny, and me, with those two taking turns fucking me and omigod I almost cum in my pants. Fantasies are fun.

And sure, I get pissed-off at Danny for ignoring me but he's the one who originally got Rob and me to join Hayden and him as a tight little gay group, so I gotta give him props for that. Of course we were supposed to be gay buddies looking out for each other and doing some harmless buddy-sex on the side together too. The last part has barely come to fruition though. And I've wondered if our closeness over the summer has had anything to do with Rob and me stepping it up and having the best, most consistently hot sex together of our lives. Maybe subconsciously the closeness has had a positive influence in that regard. Maybe the 'history' between those two has me more intent on being a really good lover for Rob, and possibly um, oh fuck, I don't really know...

Funny though how any jealousy I felt because of Danny prior to our current relationship evaporated when the four of us got closer. Instead of being jealous I developed this Mount Everest size crush on him and I still feel it. Danny's no brain-trust of course, far from that, but he's maybe the most sincere person I've ever met. I guess he's pretty naive too, and I mean naive to the point of being obtuse when it comes to me and him doing buddy-sex. Can't he see how much I want to do it with him? I mean, what the fuck? And Danny and I doing buddy-sex is totally acceptable to Robby too, so what's the problem? Jesus!

Not counting my first dominant sex partner, fat Carl, I can't think of anyone I've lusted after like I have been lusting after Danny this summer. I think I've kept my 'lusting' under wraps from Robby but not to Danny, I mean lately I've been coming right out asking him to have sex with me. Fortunately I'm allergic to begging so it hasn't come to that yet. And Danny's always his normally sweet, air-heady-self telling me nicely he wants to do 'it' with me too but I need to be patient. The rejection of course just makes me want him more. If he was, um, 'brighter' I might think he was doing the 'be patient' routine to increase my desire for having buddy-sex with him, but he isn't, um, brighter.

It's driving me crazy that Danny's libido ain't all that it should be, but come on, I can't even persuade him even by asking him directly? What's that all about? Hell, I'm reduced to 'nagging' him for it and he still doesn't get it. One time I actually ask him when it's gonna be my turn? How pathetic is that!

Yeah, that's really embarrassing when I think about it. Of course I say all that stuff to Danny in a joking manner, like I'm half-kidding around. It's to lessen the embarrassment on my part obviously but I'm pretty sure he knows I'm serious. I'm almost positive he knows because he always grins giving me a hug and gets real solicitous telling me how flattered he is I'm asking for him to get 'intimate with me'. And then there's usually one of his quick-as-a-wink kisses on my lips, but that's the end of it. No follow-up from him so I'm left holding my dick wondering what just happened. And yes, all the time I'm trying to hustle Danny I'm having the best sex of my life with Rob! So go figure that out...

Later tonight though Rob makes me forget all about Danny as we do some naked wrestling under the covers giggling like children which leads us into fun, nuclear-hot extemporaneous, hard, and fast sex. Oh man! We did it twice actually. Rob is number-one in my sex life, and everyone else I've ever had sex with is a distant second. I love every kind of sex Rob and I do together! Still, there's that old nemesis for me: I'm missing the sexual variety that side-sex and buddy-sex used to provide regularly.

Yeah, there were guys in my past who got me sexually turned-on even hotter than Robby can, but only for short periods of time. And it's for various reasons like pound-for-pound bigger boners and of course guys who do a truer version of sub/dom sex, like Hayden... and Danny too for that matter although neither of them realizes they're doing a mild form of sub/dom sex with me. Not that it matters that they know what they're doing or not. But for the vast majority of hot sex guys it's basically BAM! WOW! catch your breath and then we're talking about the weather. Still it's hot fun for five minutes and in a weird way improves sex with Robby by comparing the two. So side-sex and buddy-sex serves a useful purpose in addition to providing the variety that been so elusive for months now.

Coming back to the bottom-line, no one gets me consistently 'off' like Robby and I mean when we're only doing some hot, fast, and hard fun-sex. It's simple, he's my favorite sex partner of all time. Then there's our lover's sex three-or-four times a week which takes the pleasure way the fuck up to the stratosphere and nothing comes close to comparing with that. But variety is good too. Yeah, that's right... I'd like very much to have my fucking cake and eat it too! Okay?

Robby doesn't begrudge me any side-or-buddy-sex either. It's me who has run out of side-sex partners and then my lackadaisical buddy-sex partners, who of late are Danny and Hayden, simply aren't up to the task nearly enough, if at all. I suppose there are some people who would claim that I think about sex way too much and they're probably right, but I don't see me changing anytime soon. Like Chubby said, we were both born with 'the super-sex-gene', probably from our Father, and what are we supposed to do about it, curse our luck or make the best of it?

So, I had great sex with Rob tonight and then Sunday morning we're driving to my condo to participate in making brunch. Rob's been observing my cooking technique conscientiously and wants to do some of the cooking at our college apartment this year. That remains to be seen, but I'm all for it. Anyway, after brunch Chub, Rob, and I do our thing at AutoFair and surprisingly, after some muttering, they accept the Jeep as a trade-in which makes me think Sammy-the-salesman made a better deal for himself than I initially thought. I say that because, as I mentioned, Chub has beat the shit out of that Jeep. Monday afternoon Chub takes the check to finalize the deal and then he'll drive the Soul home. My first ride in it will be after my Hartford, um, business trip.

Feeling good about the Jeep's appraisal we drive back to my Mom's condo and the three of us lie around watching the first Pats' football game of the NFL season. After the game Rob and I have Sunday dinner at home, um, I mean at the Dickers and then Rob helps me pack for my week in Hartford, Connecticut. Hartford is the furthest office from the Farmington home base. It's been active, unbeknownst to me, for a year now. I'm told it's a smallish office on the outskirts of Hartford with eight employees plus twenty-or-so employees at the construction site doing excavation and landscaping. They're involved in another one of those hundred-unit condo projects. So I need to interview all of them.

Mr. Dickers arranged for me to use a company car and it was delivered to the house sometime Sunday night. Some kind of compact Chevy. That's what I think it is from what I can see in the dark out the kitchen window. Rob mutters, "Jesus, they should have done better than that for you, Dylan." Then one thing led to another and we never mentioned the car to his Dad.

Sunday night in bed Rob and I have the most awesome lover's sex imaginable. Rob has become an awesome lover, well hell he's been that for a long time now. Oh man he makes me tingle with pleasure all over my body. We get deeply involved in making love for a-half-hour-or-so and then we cuddle and murmur to each other how we'll be missing one another again this coming week. It'll be the second time this summer we've been separated for almost a week.

Monday morning the first thing I think of is: 'It's only nine days before the first day of my senior year at Merrimack'. And then I remember I haven't dealt with Chubby's assumption that I'll be joining him in continuing our education after senior year. Oh fuck! It's been two-weeks since that topic first came up and I'm surprised it hasn't come up again. Maybe, hope upon hope, it was just a passing thought. I truly hope so even though I know it wasn't. Yeah, but truthfully, I don't need to make that decision anytime soon.

Anyway that concern is quickly replaced by another one: all of a sudden, I'm feeling acutely nervous about my so-called business trip. I thought it'd be cool until now that it's here. While I'm trying to fight-off my nervousness I look at myself in the mirror and, to make matters worse, I'm looking at my shitty haircut. On a business trip no less! Of all the fucking time to have a shitty haircut! Goddammit, why didn't I give this trip some thought last Thursday night? I'd never have let Danny... oh, the hell with it! There's nothing I can do about it now.

While rubbing my fingers on the uneven bristly hairs at the back of my head I'm wicked out-of-sorts going downstairs in the morning. Surprisingly I find that Mr. Dickers hasn't left for work yet, which is very unusual. I'll bet he's waiting until Rob and I are down for breakfast so he can make sure I know what to do and who to see during my business trip. Last night he had another 'talk' with me, this time giving me pointers about business trips, things to avoid and whatever. He also gave me his card and said to call him directly if I had any questions or problems.

After a casual 'morning greeting' Mr. Dickers asks right out, "Are you feeling confident about Hartford, Dylan? Any last-minute questions?" I'm like, "No, I'm good, Mr. D. Thanks to your help last night and, um, I have your card." He nods and then Rob's here muttering, "G'morning." He gives the back of my neck a squeeze and sits across from me as his Dad say, "Rob, you check in with the Hartford office first thing this morning and have then call you when Dylan arrives." Rob nods, mumbling, "Yeah, of course, Dad." and then I jump in my seat when Rob pokes at his eggs and yells, "Christs! My yolks are hard, Mom!" His Mom prepared fried eggs and bacon for our breakfast this morning. I reach over and take Rob's plate and switch it with mine. My yolks are shimmering and cooked perfectly. Rob grins, "Thanks, babe." Mrs. D. makes a 'Sizzzing' sound but doesn't say anything.

Mr. Dickers finished his breakfast some time ago and now he finishes his coffee and then gives me an awkward sort of a shoulder-hug as I'm sitting at the breakfast table. He mumbles, "I know you'll do fine, Dylan." That was my first hug of any kind from him.

He gets his leather satchel and gives Mrs. D. a peck on the cheek and I get another pat on the shoulder and a mumbled, "You'll do great," as he's on his way to the back door. Jeez, that's really nice of him but his concern is making me even more nervous. As he opens the backdoor, I mumble, "Thank you, sir," and he and Mrs. Dickers exchanged grins, ones they don't think I see. I know the grins are because I again slipped into my habit of saying, 'Sir." Ha, it's that fucking habit I picked up in Georgia and I'm having a hard time breaking it. I have a hard time breaking habits; good ones and bad ones.

Damn though, saying 'Sir' is fine for Georgia but nobody talks like that around here or almost anyplace else for all I know. Just me and I'm sort of stuck saying it. I only use it when I'm speaking to full-grown adult men, men who I think deserve that title of respect and I definitely think Mr. Dickers qualifies for that. And the other thing is, I started saying it to him and now if I stop it'll seem weird. Robby teases me about it all the time, but I'm stuck with it now.

Rob and I finish breakfast and we get ready to leave. He's holding my suitcase and I'm holding a half-dozen hangers with dress-clothes in one hand and my toiletry kit in the other as Mrs. Dickers hugs me and kisses my cheek. That's a first for her, so I got two Dickers' 'firsts' this morning. The clothes on hangers are Rob's idea. Mrs. Dickers says, "You do what Robert said, Dylan, and call him directly if you need anything while you're in Hartford." I know she means Rob's Dad and not Robby, but if I get in trouble somehow, I'm calling Robby first.

She walks out with Rob and me, asking me, "Does Robert know that little car is the one you're supposed to use?" I shrug, saying, "I guess, Mrs. D. It's the car delivered here last evening." She shakes her head in disapproval and I don't blame her. I could get claustrophobia in this little car.

Then, after Rob and I put my luggage in the company car and the hangers on the hook in back, Rob hugs me and we sway a little while doing a big kiss with his Mom standing on the back steps watching us. Neither Rob nor I feel uncomfortable about things like hugging and kissing in front of his parents anymore, although we try not to overdo it. This morning is kinda special though. After our kiss, he says, "I love you, Dylan. I'll be calling the Hartford office, like Dad said. First to see you arrive okay but then you call me when you get registered at the hotel too." Oh boy, I feel like I'm ten-years-old heading off to camp for the first time.

We do another kiss and then Rob gets in his car as I walk over to the 'company' car. Mrs. Dickers waves at me again, calling out, "Be safe, Dylan." I smile and wave back, and then I'm on my way... on a business trip. Me on a business trip, Jesus!

The end... of Dylan's Vacation After His College Junior Year

DonnyMumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com

Next Dylan series is "Dylan's College Senior Year'. I tell myself at the beginning of each series it'll be my last for Dylan, but so far 'the last' hasn't happened yet. Maybe 'Senior Year' will finally be the one...

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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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