DYLAN!
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I'm walking across the boardwalk, stupidly going back for the rest of the blowjob Mohawk man started when Chubby called, "Dylan, wait up!" I stopped, not sure if I felt saved from the Mohawk man, or if I was disappointed that I wouldn't be getting the rest of that blow-job.
Chubby pats my shoulder and exclaims, "Hey, COOL! That earring rocks! Did it hurt much?" I told him it was nothing; I hardly felt it. Chubby really liked this plain round eighty-five-dollar titanium earring. I can't tell him it's an eighty-five-dollar earring, or he'd want to know where I got the eighty-five dollars. He tells me that the parents of the girl he was with, Lynn, are heading back to their motel, and she went with them.
I ask, "Is she hooking up with us later?" He makes a cute face, then says, "Don't worry. I didn't make any plans with her. It's looking good on the beach again... do you want to get in some beach time?" I nod, "Yeah, sure. Hey, Chub, did you ever think about getting a Mohawk?" Chubby's like, "Yeah, they're cool, but I think we're too old for silly haircuts. You know, Mohawks are more for fourteen and fifteen-year-olds and younger."
I argued that there were juniors and seniors in high school last summer who had them. Chubby said, "Yeah? Why this interest in Mohawk haircuts, anyway?" I mumbled that I was just asking what he thought because, to goof off, I was half thinking about getting one.
At the house, we changed into swim gear but didn't bring our beach chairs to the beach. We swam and body surfed, then did our nice long walk down the beach. Not too much talking; we both were thinking private thoughts. I wondered what Chubby's private thoughts were. My private thoughts were about my Mohawk man experience. It started horribly but ended up not so badly. I was definitely heading back for the rest of that blowjob when Chubby intercepted me. Heh-heh, Mohawk man can really suck cock. I've been told I do it pretty well myself. It's one of those deals where you're good at something you like doing. Thanks, Carl!
I wonder how old Mohawk Man is. The counter girl at Mohawk Piercings with all the tats and piercings is probably his sister. I'd guess she was in her early twenties and him a year or two older, with both being very good-looking except for all their tattoos and piercings. The piercings more or less ruin both their looks. Yeah, and for Mohawk man, his over-built-up body is grossly overdone, too. He gave me an unbelievably fantastic fucking, though, and I'd been wishing someone would. It had been on my mind, ya know?
Another thing I'm thinking about is how my fixation on a guy's attractiveness or lack of attractiveness is a flaw in my makeup. It's shallow of me to base my opinion of someone on how they look. Or maybe I'm too hard on myself. I'm only eighteen, which isn't very old, and I just discovered my sexuality a few months ago. So what if I like cute or handsome guys and slightly dominant ones, too? It's been mostly fun so far. I've absorbed a few spankings and comeuppances along the way, but I'm no baby. They hurt, sure, but I get over bad stuff quickly; I'm very resilient. Both Chubby and I are. We've had to be.
I feel my hair... the Mohawk man said it was two inches long now. I was holding off getting a haircut because I wanted Carl to give me another one. He activated my partial haircut fetish or something because Carl cutting my hair got me sexually aroused. Carl knows how to get me aroused, and so does the Mohawk man.
It gives me a semi-boner thinking about the fucking and the sucking Mohawk man laid on my body. Should I or shouldn't I go back to my Mohawk man and let him do a Mohawk haircut? If I do, I'd get that double fuck afterward. I'm leaning toward doing it, but first, I want to see what Mom, Tris, and Willie say about me getting a Mohawk. Chubby already told me we're too old for silly haircuts, but it doesn't matter much to him if I do it, or not.
It's Wednesday, so I've got Thursday and half of Friday before I'll see Willie. Now, that thought right there, that Willie thought; it really does get my dick hard. I've told myself I love Willie, but I'm not sure if it's romantic love or buddy sex love.
Chubby interrupts my musings, "Hey, Bud, let's run back on the packed sand near the water." I nodded, "Good idea..." and off we went, being careful not to run into innocent bystanders. It was almost a two-mile run, and then, sweating and breathing hard, we went to the condo and showered together... without jerking each other off.
After a dinner of boxed Kraft's mac & cheese and a salad, we congratulated ourselves on saving money by not eating out, then went on the boardwalk. I had a secret mission looking for the Mohawk man's boys, the ones with Mohawk haircuts. I got excited when I spotted two of them or at least two young guys with Mohawks. I assume they're his boys. I saw one early in the evening, and one late.
There was no opportunity to talk to either one, though, because Chubby was with me, and the boys were with other guys. The first one I saw looked about my age, but that's all we had in common. He was shorter than Chubby and had three ear-piercing pieces in each ear. His mohawk was about three inches high and different shades of blue with dark red tips. Frankly, it looked stupid, so that doesn't help my case for talking myself into getting one.
The other one was an older macho man like Mohawk man. A bodybuilder, about twenty, I'd guess, but he didn't look like he'd be anybody's boy. He had the Mohawk haircut, and it was in different shades of red, which is the Mohawk man's signature touch. You know what? I don't care what it looks like; I'm agreeing with Mohawk man that a boy should have at least one Mohawk haircut in his life. Hell, now I'm getting a haircut fetish-boner.
Chubby and I closed down the amusement parks and headed home after spending too much money on thrill rides. In bed, we again got all tangled up together, me hugging around his neck with both arms. Before falling asleep, I told myself that the fucking the Mohawk man gave me made me more horny, not less horny!
The next thing I knew my ear was killing me. I'd rolled on it in my sleep. Damn thing was still wicked sore from being stabbed with that needle. I've got to pee, too, so, quietly slipping out of bed, I go into the bathroom to pee, wash up, and brush my teeth. It's a little after seven in the morning, which is too early to get up, but I got dressed anyway. The Moms got in late from Atlantic City, so they'll sleep late. I slip out of the condo, and walk five blocks to the boardwalk.
There is a breakfast stand open, so I buy a coffee and sat on a bench to drink it while I smoked a cigarette. What the hell, I crossed my legs like the French boy crossed his. Oooh, that nice squeezed balls feeling. I feel extra gay crossing my legs like this, and it was fun, so I bounced my top leg to get the foot swinging slightly, like the French boy, and then here comes the first runners. Oh, boy!
There are three distinct lanes going in both directions on the boardwalk. The lanes are for morning use only. Each lane is marked: One for walkers, one for joggers, and one for bikes. A number of young teen boys have adopted a ritual of running on the boardwalk in a line. At least four, but no more than six, jogging together, side by side, and in step.
Their synchronized running encompasses all of their moving parts. Their arms rubbing against the boy's arm next to them, they run step for step, their arms pumping in unison, their heads exactly in the same position, their asses bobbing together. It's quite a sight for me, a gay boy, to gawk at.
There is an unofficial uniform apparently because almost every group wears, basically, the same thing. Gym shorts, which are shorty-short, and running shoes with those invisible ankle socks. That's it. No shirt, no hat, no nothing else. "Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump...", here they come down the boards perfectly in step, as if they were a ten or twelve-legged animal. Some groups of boys will have identical haircuts or identical sneakers or the same color gym short, or all will have an earring or something the same to show they're a unit. Some write big letters on their chest... one letter per chest, the combined letters spell out a word with meaning to them as they run side by side..
The boys are usually between thirteen and sixteen years old and the group is either from the same neighborhood or same high school. Maybe they're on the same sports team. The short gym trunks and ankle socks exaggerate the length of their legs as they run past me. The air they are pushing in front of them and to either side smells like teen boys, sweaty, horny, and healthy.
There's the same percentage of cute gay boys among the runners as in the general population, which is to say; very few. They don't need to be cute; they're wicked sexy as they are. Of course, they don't think of themselves as sexy, they think of themselves as being cool. They are cool, but to me and to the one out of ten runners in those groups who happens to be gay, they think of themselves as sexy, too. It's so right that they all have each other to run with.
While drinking my coffee and smoking two cigarettes, I watched four pods of teen runners. Wow, I sighed, smiled, muttered, "Awesome," and then bought four coffees, stuck the four cups in a slotted cardboard tray, and walked back to our rental place in a happy frame of mind. That was an excellent show. I'd seen it last year, so I wanted to watch it again. Both Moms were up and I heard Chubby talking on his cell phone, so everyone was up and at 'em.
My Mom was making scrambled eggs and Tris was making raisin-bread toast. They were in good moods too and delighted with the coffees. "Well, aren't you sweet, Dylan. You got up early so we could all have fresh coffee with our breakfast." I said, "Ah, shucks. It wasn't nothing any perfect son wouldn't do." Then she spotted my earring and exclaimed, "Oh damn. That's so neat. That is one nice earing, Honey," and then, "What's that chain around your neck? Something else new?"
I told the Moms the same bullshit story I'd told Chubby. Tris says, "Dylan, this is a David Yurman necklace." I shrug, "Yeah, Willie told me. He's the designer or something. How'd you know?"
My Mom came over now and said, "David Yurman? It's got to be a knock-off, Tris." Tris mumbles, "It's no knock-off. Dylan, that necklace cost at least a thousand dollars, maybe more. That's white gold all around the black onyx in the cross and same for the chain, and what a great chain that is, too."
I was speechless. I figured it cost forty or fifty dollars and was damn proud to be wearing something that expensive. I told them that I'd question Willie about the value of the necklace tomorrow when I see him, "He probably has no more idea how expensive it is than I had." The Moms insisted I leave it here and not wear it till this is all straightened out. Well, I wasn't going to wear it the beach anyway, I never do, but I'm wearing it when I meet Willie. And he knows exactly how much it cost because he bought it for me, or did he? I groped my groin as I headed for the bathroom to pee. Maybe I do love Willie romantically.
After my pee, I cleaned up again because, even this early, it's hot outside and the walk got me a little sweaty. When I went back in the kitchen, Chubby came over to me, squeezed my hand, smiled, and said, "You know what? I'm going to miss you, Dylan! Rickie will pick me up at the Framingham bus station tomorrow night. He's adamant about that, so I got to leave tomorrow morning instead of tomorrow night, and I've got to spend two nights with him... er, I mean, you know... with the Ortiz family."
We all commiserated with Chubby and I offered to go with him again, but I knew that wouldn't work. Tris changed the subject after a bit and we ended breakfast on an upbeat note. We all went to the beach together and, for once, the North family beat us there. It was one large group of eight. Us four boys headed right for the ocean and we messed around in there. Great day on the beach and another great time on the boardwalk at night.
The next morning after breakfast Chub and I walked on the beach for an hour and then Tris drove Chubby to the bus station. He didn't want me to come with them. He said, "Go meet your friend, Dylan. I'm fine. The next two days aren't a big deal, you know, just a pain in the ass that's got to be taken care of." I hugged him and kissed his cheek. He said, "Oh shit, no tears," but his voice sounded funny so I think he enjoyed the kiss no matter what he said. Guess he didn't want a scene at the bus station and that's why he didn't want me along.
As soon as they left, I felt kind of empty and I moped out on the deck, contemplating life and arriving at no conclusions about anything. It had already been okay'd that I spend the next two nights with Willie in Sea Isle City. My Mom seemed eager to agree to that and when Tris heard about it, she raised her eyebrows at my Mom and they did a little girl-smirk. Either their boyfriends from Framingham would be down or their new boyfriends from Wildwood would be over ten minutes after I leave. It made me smile and then frown. Best not to think about that too closely. I'll concentrate on enjoying myself with Willie.
My ass was twitching thinking about Willie. Wonder if he'll bring me another present. I went inside and looked at the necklace. Huh, a thousand dollars. I had a satchel packed for the weekend; my necklace was in the satchel. Mom said, "Have fun honey, call me if anything comes up that you need help with. Okay?" She wasn't worried that I'd need to call her; I've never gotten in trouble except for a few fights. No drugs or breaking the law or anything like that.
Willie doesn't know his way around Wildwood, so we made it simple. He'd meet me at one o'clock, on Forty-second Street, at the boardwalk. Can't very well miss the ocean, and the boardwalk is just before you drive into the ocean.
He flew into Atlantic City this morning and rented a car that was arranged somehow by his uncle because Willie's too young to rent a car. From Atlantic City to Wildwood is about a forty-minute drive. As I carried my satchel to our meeting spot on the boardwalk, I was focusing on the positive of Willie being here, and not the negative of Chubby not being here.
But, yeah, I was sincerely excited about seeing Willie, and about this weekend. He'd come all this way to spend a weekend with me. That impressed me a lot, so I'm again thinking I love him. Waiting on a bench on the boardwalk at forty-second street, I put my necklace on and started to light a cigarette, but remembered just in time that Willie didn't want me smoking before one of our dates.
My ass twitched and I groped myself until I noticed two middle aged ladies frowning at me. I looked away and my face got bright red. Fuck! I hate that. Why do they need to always be staring at me just when I adjust my package. Oh, here comes Willie!
He walked right across the boardwalk to me with a really cute smile. He looked so good. He came up to me and said, "Hi, sweetheart. You look fabulous with your tan," and he wrapped his arms around my waist and covered my mouth with his. For a second my eyes darted around and there were those two women again, their mouths hanging open. For a second, I started to blush again, but the taste of Willie's mouth, and his tongue on my tongue, and my nose against his cheek with his sexy scent in my head, all I could think about was Willie.
I closed my eyes, hugged him around his neck with both arms and kissed him back as my boner came to life, and was as hard as the railing that Willie had me pushed up against. Oh my, it felt so wonderful being with him again. It was a quick kiss, by Willie's standards; about five seconds, but my boner poked my flimsy basketball shorts straight out in front. Willie took my hand, picked-up my satchel and said, "I missed you so much, Dylan. Come on..." and he pulled me by my hand across the boardwalk, as I was frantically trying to hide my boner with my free hand, with very little success. I should have worn heavier cargo shorts.
Willie was chattering about his accommodations in Sea Isle City. It was a motel right on the water, I think he said. We headed directly for a two seater convertible that I knew was the kind of car Willie would rent. He let go of my hand to open the trunk, tossed my satchel in there and said, "I have a surprise for you, Dylan. It's in the glove compartment. I hope you," and then he stopped in mid-sentence to stare at me. I didn't like the look on his face because it was obvious he was looking at my earring.
My hand went up to my ear and I said, "What's wrong, Willie? Don't you like my new earring? You don't like earrings?" I was worried because he had a serious expression and he looked pissed-off. He closed his eyes for five seconds and when he opened them, he appeared to have calmed himself down. "We need to straighten out a few things in our relationship. Things that are getting a little, let's say, a little too loosey-goosey. I'll take the blame for it. It's not all your fault, but you need to understand some things. I don't want to go into this stuff now, though."
I'm frowning, muttering, "No, go into it now. What is it, Willie?" He says, "I don't want to put a damper on our reunion. It's my fault for spoiling you in the first place. We'll talk later. Get in the car." I stood where I was, and asked again, "This is about my earring, right? You don't like earrings or something."
He came around the car now and hugged me, "I'm sorry for over-reacting, Dylan. I love you so much, but it's that sometimes I get disappointed in you. No, that's not exactly it. It's that I kind of let us down by not doing my responsibilities as the leader in our relationship. I'm lazy in certain area and Larry told me this would happen. I take full responsibility. Not your fault at all. Larry told me I was too easy-going with you. Come on, Dylan, please, can we get in the car and head over to Sea Isle. We're going to have so much fun! Come on."
He opened the car door and I got in, then he went around and got in, too. He started up, said, "Your seat belt?" and when it was fastened, we pulled away in silence.
I'm slow I guess, but the things he said back there don't make any sense, and he brought up Larry, who I don't care for. I said, "You mentioned Larry again. What do I need to do to get you to stop mentioning him to me?" I sounded a little pissed off, and now Willie was whining, "He's my fucking roommate for the last two years, and we talk on our cells a lot. His name slips in every now and then. I'm sorry I mentioned him, alright?" Now he was back to sounding a little pissed off, too. This is some start to our weekend.
We rode in silence until I mumbled, "Nice wheels," and Willie said, "I said I was sorry, sweetheart. I hate when you're mad at me. I love you!" Damn, it's hard to stay pissed at someone who keeps saying they love you. And this is lame, but I feel a twitch in my dick each time he called me sweetheart. I know it's weird that I like when he says things like that to me; things, normally, a straight boy would say to his girlfriend.
Jeez, more than just saying stuff, almost everything he says or does fits that description. Strangely, it doesn't bother me because he's so fucking sincere; none of it's a joke or a frivolous thing. He's completely and seriously, sincere.
It's sweet and, as I said, when it's just between him and me I actually like it, but it can be a major problem if he treated me like this around guys I know. I'm not girly. Willie reached over and patted my thigh, "Please say you forgive my over-reaction to the earring. We'll talk about everything later, okay?"
I said, "I'm sorry too, Willie. I'm so excited about seeing you." Now I got to see his cute dimples in a smile and that crinkled spot on his nose where the freckles made him look like he was ten years old. What an original, clean, clear face he has. I squeezed his hand like Chubby does to me. He said, "Oh, I forgot. Open your present. It's in the glove compartment."
Inside the glove compartment was a square box and inside the square box was a square wood box and inside that was the coolest watch I've ever seen. My eyes got big and I go, "Willie! It's so cool! Thank you so much!" and I unhooked my seat belt to lean over and kiss him near his mouth. He smiled and motioned for me to hook the seat belt again as we were flying down the Garden State Parkway at seventy-five miles an hour with the top down. I hooked up, took off my Timex and put my new watch on. It had a really cool dark brown leather band that smelled so nice.
Willie yelled over the sound of the traffic, "It's just a sport watch. It's for the daytime, not special enough to wear at night when going to something important." He held up his left arm and I saw the same watch on his wrist. He yelled, "I couldn't resist getting one for myself, too. Wait till dad sees that charge card bill!" and he laughed a genuine laugh. He wasn't worried even a little bit. I couldn't stop staring at that watch. Willie's right, it wasn't a dress-up type watch, but I hate dress-up type watches. I like watches like this, big round face with lots of dials and way more information than I'd ever care to know about.
It looks so cool, and I could almost make out what time it was, too. Now that we're off the Garden State Parkway, we could talk in normal voices and I was rubbing the back of Willie's head telling him how much I love and appreciate the watch. He said, "Please, Dylan. It's nothing, really."
I'd already seen a tiny tag on the bottom of the box that read, "$329.99" so it wasn't as much as the necklace, but it wasn't "nothing" either. That reminded me about the necklace and I told him my Mom finally noticed it and was shocked because she says it must have cost a thousand dollars. Willie said it was about eleven-hundred dollars, but he had a confession to make. He re-gifted it to me. It was given to him by his grandparents as a present for graduating with honors way back in middle school.
He never wore the necklace and he wanted to give me something special and thought of it. He laughed because I'd originally misunderstood about the David Yurman comment thinking it was second hand from someone named David Yurman. Willie says, "And all the time it actually was sort of second hand, but I never put it on. Not that I didn't like it, I just don't wear necklaces." He insisted it was mine to do with whatever I wanted. I wanted to keep it and wear it because I really loved it.
We pulled up to this new, two-story motel and parked. Willie mumbled, "I stopped here to check-in on my way to pick you up. We have a beautiful suite on the Ocean side. Spectacular view! Mr. Warren did a great job getting me this for the weekend."
We went up to the second floor, Willie carrying my satchel, and he was right about the room being great. He closed the blinds, and grabbed hold of me, pulled both of us over onto the Kingsize bed. We got our arms wrapped around one another and began one of our truly fantastic make outs.
Willie's saliva is so crisp and clean-tasting. His tongue is the perfect size and texture, and it is rosy pink. His gums are lighter pink and his bright white teeth are shaped just right with little spaces between the top ones. His lips are pouty and he uses all of his mouth to suck and lick and kiss my lips and tongue and neck and face, while hugging me in various ways and humping his groin into mine. Willie is slightly taller than me, but we have the same slim bodies. His scent I've already talked about; it gets me hard. Everything about Willie turns me on. I love him, I think.
After a ten-minute make-out my nuts were sore and very hard, up tight against my shaved belly. We were still both fully clothed, wearing short sleeve shirts and cargo shorts. Our sandals had fallen off when we fell on the bed. It became apparent that Willie wanted to make me cum in my pants again. He gets a kick out of that, and frankly, so do I.
Willie got my head pushed back against the pillow licking and sucking on my neck. After all the earlier stimulation, in his mind, he needed to make a high, shiny hickey on my neck to show everyone I belong to him. Hee-hee, that's so cool. This is where I liked him being the aggressor because in my mind it demonstrated how much he loved me.
A hickey can take a while and I started squirming after about five minutes and when I felt my cock get wet, I knew it was happening. I groaned at the feeling just before climaxing. It's the best feeling, next to actually doing it during sex. Willie felt my body tighten-up and he used just his tongue on my neck as I humped my hips, grunting and almost made crying sounds in the throes of ecstasy. I was barely under control when I squealed, "Willie...ahhhh," and a hard stream of cum splattered into my jockey underwear followed by another, "Willie.. ohhh!" and more cum and then another little shot, and cum drools.
My head was hot and sweaty, my heart thudded in my chest as I struggled to get enough oxygen to my lungs. It was a great spontaneous climax. Spontaneous, in that I hadn't stroked my cock. Willie stopped the hickey-building to hug and kiss me, then asking in that quiet voice he sometimes uses that hypnotizes me a little bit, "You okay, sweetheart? Did that feel good?" and he kissed my mouth with such passion I couldn't hug him tight enough. I swear I had to make a conscious effort not to thank him for making me feel so hot, so wanted, so loved. I didn't want to seem like a wimp, though, so I fought off the urge to say those things to him, but I was pretty sure now that I did love him.
He cuddled with me for a few minutes with his iron boner very evident. Then he went back to the hickey for another minute or two but I nagged him to stop because it was burning, "Okay, I'll stop, but I need to finish it later, baby. I want guys to notice it and know you belong to me. Do you feel my boner?" I nodded and he grinned, asking, "Do you think you could rim my asshole like last time. That was so hot. When I masturbate, I think about you rimming me and kaboom! out comes the cum. Please..."
I say, "Sure Willie, I'll rim you. I like to give you pleasure." He rubbed my head, mumbled, "Thanks," and then, "Oh, your unruly hair reminds me that I went online and found a barber for us near the Fort Dix army base, or what's left of it. We'll go tomorrow and get authentic flattop haircuts." Oh no!
I mumble, "Did you ever think of a Mohawk?" Willie said emphatically, "No! You're getting an authentic flattop!" That remark kind of hung in the air, but we left it there as Willie pulled his pants down. My mind switched over to his ass. Great looking double bubble ass. Willie is long and lean, but his ass is full and plump, but very firm. Great ass.
We took off the few things we were wearing. I like the feel of being naked and I liked Willie's naked body, too. He said, "This time suck my cock first, then get me off with the rimming." I nod, and I get on my knees, then start by licking all around his pubes. They were scratchy after a week's growth. I asked, "Do you want me to re-shave you?"
He was all for that so we went in the bathroom and I wet his crotch really well before lathering on the Motel's complimentary shaving cream and then I used the complimentary safety razor to carefully shave him clean. Willie has very little body hair. You need to look closely to see fine hairs on his arms, so short they're almost not there. No hair on his torso or thighs and short soft, light hairs on his calves, which I like to rub.
On my knees, I looked up at his face and he was staring down at me with the nicest eyes, showing a look of affection. I dried his crotch area well and then kissed his belly just above his now semi-soft penis and he smelled just like he should. Willie, in a quiet voice says, "Thanks, Dylan. It feels good when it's freshly shaved. Looks cool too, don't you think?"
I mumble, "You'd look cool under any circumstance, Willie, but yeah, I loved the shaved pubes look," and I kissed that spot again. Willie's penis got a little harder. "Let's go back in the bedroom, sweetheart," and he smacked my bare ass. I grinned at him.
Willie leaned against the bed and I got on my knees and began licking all around his cock and balls. His cock was seven inches when soft and, from sucking him off a few times, I knew when hard it got maybe a half inch longer and a little fatter. It's an excellent penis in my opinion, excellent. When I had his smooth crotch slippery with spit, I began licking his balls and when I had his scrotum just as slippery as his crotch, I used my fingers to get both his balls in my mouth and tongued and hummed until his boner was up and sticking away from his body.
Aroused, Willie made that sound he makes when he blows long exhales out between barely opened teeth. It sounds like steam escaping a valve.
He had my head surrounded with his hands, squeezing the back of my neck and playing with my hair. I rolled my eyes up to look at him and saw he had his eyes closed with a relaxed, pleasant expression on his face. I know he likes this and I love making him feel good.
His nuts were getting harder, so I pushed them out of my mouth with my tongue and began licking up all seven inches of his sweet penis. Willie's smell at his crotch was yummy, and it got me hard. Then my favorite part, I sucked the head of his penis into my mouth and sucked and tongues it with pleasure. I guess I'm a for-real cock sucker because I love to suck cocks of boys I like.
I do not want to suck the cock of anyone I don't like. Now, I'd never willingly suck the Marine's cock, not after discovering how wonderful sex can be with someone you really like. My boyfriend Willie, for example. Or, maybe someday Robby. I can't realistically fantasize sincerely about sucking Chubby's cock. That's too unlikely to be a good fantasy.
After sucking the head of Willie's big boy for an entire minute, I took it down my throat and Willie goes, "Ahhh... please, Dylan, I don't want to cum yet," so he pulled his cock out and, trying to catch his breath, he says, "Hold up a second." I sit back on my ankles and look up seeing he has his eyes open now taking puffs of breath with a slight grin on his face. He said, "My boyfriend knows how to suck cock. WOW! That was almost too hot." He turned around to lean over on the bed and said, "Try to get your tongue inside my hole, babe."
Staying on my knees, I spread his buttocks and looked at his rosebud asshole. It's hard for me to believe I like doing this because when the Marine did it to me, I was grossed out. I mean it felt awesome, but me doing it to somebody didn't seem likely. Now I like to do it for Willie. His little, puckered hole was very clean and there wasn't a single hair in sight. I went right for his asshole and licked across it for maybe a minute with Willie squirmy, wiggling his ass a little and blowing that air between his teeth again.
Straining my neck, I started at the back of his nuts and did firm full tongue laps all along his ass crack. I did it maybe ten times. When I heard Willie moaning, I concentrated just on his hole and licked right on the opening until it was loose enough to get my tongue inside. Soon, I was fucking his hole with about an inch of my tongue when I felt Willie started masturbating at a high rate of speed.
He was aroused big time and actually did one of my squeals when he shot off all over the bedspread. Hot, hot, hot. As soon as he relaxed his hold on my tongue, I sat back on my ankles, Willie moaning, "Ahh fuck! Oh boy! Ahh, ahh, yeah!"
A few minutes later, he quietly murmured, "Awesome, Dylan! Come on, let's get in bed." He rustled under the covers, and then I crawled in next to him, and he wrapped me in his arms, chest to chest, with my arms trapped between us. He got his legs around mine and did that thing Willie always has done with me: see if the two of us can become one. By the time he was done squirming around, I felt I was captured by him and felt a little claustrophobia inside his tight grasp.
Willie moved his head a little till our lips were together and said into my mouth, "Waking up with you in my arms is all I ever ask from life, Dylan," and he tightened his arms and legs around me; his cock a rock. It felt so good, and it hurt so good, too. I gasped out his name, and Willie went, "Shh!" and let go of my legs to hump against my buttocks with his freshly shaven crotch. He spread my ass cheeks to flatten them, and then pushed in his precum drenched boner.
I groaned, "Ohh, Willie, fuck me hard, Willie." He left his seven-and-a-half inches inside me as my boner drooled precum, and I moaned in pleasure. His hot breath was on the back of my neck as he pumped my ass a half dozen times with almost all of his seven-and-a-half inches, feeling unbelievably good.
Willie straightened up on his knees, put an open hand on the top of both my buttocks to push down, compressing my hole even more and fucked me in a rapid rabbit fuck until I squealed, cum squeezing out onto my stomach, my boner squashed in between my thigh and belly. More humps and more cum squeezed out, and then the inside of my ass filled up with Willie's load of sperm. His seventeen-year-old body had come up with almost as much cum as his first climax. Cum drooled out of my hole around his boner with each frantic hump into me. Willie made sounds of steam coming out of a valve and sprays of spit from his mouth to my back.
Oh, yeah, we had a couple of extraordinary climaxes almost simultaneously. I was sweaty and greatly aroused. We lay there like that for a minute more, but it wasn't very comfortable, and Willie said his dick was super sensitive, so he pulled out, and the air-conditioned air zoomed up my empty, wide-opened asshole and felt terrible. I wanted Willie back up there, but he was giggling, saying that his dick had never been so sensitive. We were soon feeling fine, though, and we lay beside one another, stretched out on the bed under the covers; my ass was wet with Willie's cum that continued to drool.
He said, "This will be the best weekend of our lives." We looked into each other's eyes, and I nodded in agreement. He said, "Let's shower and go out for dinner. We need to get on the same page about a few things, sweetheart, so we'll talk about that." I was a little puzzled and a little pissed that he had to bring up that crap again so soon after such great lovemaking.
As we stepped into the shower stall, Willie said, "We're not in Maine, so I'm going to go as easy on you as possible, because I love you. I'll lie to Larry. Oops! I'm not supposed to mention him. Sorry, but you are my spoiled boyfriend and he thinks I need to be sterner with you." I make a face and mutter, "Oh, fuck, not that stupid Larry discipline horseshit! Ridiculous!" Willie cringes, mumbling, "I didn't say I agreed with him."
So, maybe this isn't going to be the best weekend of my life.
To be continued...
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