DYLAN!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
As we walked, I asked Willie who Charles was. He and Walter exchanged glances, and then Willie said, "Um, well, ah..." I stared at him, expecting to hear that Charles was Willie's real boyfriend or something terrible, but Willie chuckled and mumbled, "He's a guy who has been in the same class as me since the fourth grade, including all through Prep school right up to the present."
I think I'm relieved, then Willie adds, "He's not an ex-boyfriend, but I had a juvenile crush on Charles, but I'd never managed to be included in his clique. The rumor is he's fucked a dozen boys at Prep, but I can't get him to fuck me. To use a gunfighter metaphor, it's sort of a badge of honor to be one of the notches on Charles' belt."
I mutter, "What, but you and I...." Willie says, "You and I are gold, Dylan. And, haha, I must be nuts introducing you to Charles because you'll fall for him instantly. I'm taking that chance because you've helped me win a bet with him. We'll see. I've had a bet with Charles for three years about a boyfriend. I'll try collecting on it tonight. This might be so fucking cool, but I can't believe he came to a block party! He must be slumming it tonight."
Now I'm curious. This guy sounds like a rock star. We approached the DJ table, but nobody here was remotely rock-star material. That's good because I was not excited about this turn of events. Willie and I were having a good time together. I was nice to all his unusual friends, and now this shit with Willie being super interested in this Charles guy.
I had to hurry to keep pace with Willie, and then he squealed, "Oh my God, there he is!" I was looking for a super cute, hot guy but couldn't spot him. Willie runs up to this stocky kid about five foot eight inches tall and maybe a hundred seventy pounds. The guy was not cute; he had this superior expression that turned me off.
Willie gets right in front of him and jumps up and down like a six-year-old who needs to pee. The smug, stocky guy smirked and held out his arms, which apparently was the sign that it was okay for Willie to hug the guy while giggling excitedly, red in the face. I'm thinking: What the fuck? This is so unlike Willie! I mean, the guy isn't remotely cute. He's barely of average height and a bit heavy. Well, you know what?" He wasn't heavy so much as bulky, like a football player. His body is like Chubby's boss, Rickie. That's an unfortunate comparison but accurate. There wasn't anything about Charles' appearance that impressed me.
He wasn't geeky-looking so much as he was bland. Willie has delicate facial features that all work well together. This guy's features weren't worth a second glance. He wore his very dark red hair in a Prep-school-longish, over-the-ears hairstyle, and he had this reddish complexion to go with the dark red hair, which clashed. There was no way his skin would tan, only sunburn. His blunt nose was peeling, and he had a low forehead. Well, okay, being fair, maybe a horny older woman would say Charles was handsome in some macho-looking way that I can't fathom. That's hard to believe, but I'm trying to be fair. He's not a gargoyle.
He was so not my type that it was amazing that Willie could be in love with me and have a crush on this totally opposite type of person simultaneously. Of course, Larry isn't a cutie either, and Willie thinks he's the greatest, so go figure. Charles tells Willie, "Don't make such a spectacle of yourself, William. God, you never change. I only sent Walter to find you because I need a ride home. My summer boyfriend, Nathan Rothmeiers, who you do not know, got sick eating some of the swill they served here, and he had to drive himself over to Mass General Hospital for possible food poisoning. How did I ever let him talk me into attending a 'block party?'"
When he said block party, he had such disdain in his voice as if he was so above a simple block party it's inconceivable he was here. I'm thinking, what a ginormous asshole! And why didn't he go to the hospital with his sick boyfriend? I didn't like Charles for several reasons, one of which is he seems to be the bully type of the big-man-on-campus variety. How a pompous asshole like him ever got to be the big man on campus, I can't imagine.
Charles hadn't paid the slightest attention to me, which I hope continues. He wasn't paying much attention to Willie either. Then, he looked right at him for the first time and did a phony theatrical double take while barking out a mean-spirited-sounding laugh, saying, "Does Larry know about that absurd haircut of yours, Worthington? Your ass will be an appropriate shade of red when he finds out."
Willie acted contrite, lying that Larry knew about it. He'd told him right after he had it cut, and he, Willie, knew what his punishment would be, but he had to do the haircut as a favor for his boyfriend. And with that inaccurate background information, Willie said, "Come over here, Dylan." Hesitating a second or two, I took three steps to stand beside him, and he said, "Charles, I'd like to introduce my boyfriend, Dylan Newman. Dylan, this is THE MAN at Prep school, 'the' Charles Neil."
Throw up!
But I knew Willie expected this of me, so I held my hand and said, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Charles." He rolled his eyes and blew some air between his lips as if saying, Can I believe this shit? After a quick glance at Willie, he mutters, "Yeah, what's up, Newman?" and barely touches my hand for a weak, soft handshake. It was almost the same greeting I received from that snooty Prep School kid Willie was with at the movies two months ago. The Prep School lads don't take to commoners like myself very well.
Willie babbled on, "Isn't he cool, Dylan? Charles and I go way back, but I never expected he'd be at a block party." Then, looking at Charles, who was going through his pockets with a disturbed expression, Willie says, "Well, Charles, does Dylan qualify?" Charles says, "That idiot Nathan took the cigarettes with him! Who has a cigarette?" Willie's like, "Dylan, give Charles one of ours, please."
I held out the pack, and Charles said, "Anyone have non-filters? These pussy smokes are worthless." He swiveled his head around, but the guys had drifted away like I wished I could do. What a bore Charles is. With no other option, Charles grabbed my Marlboro Light pack from my hand, took a few out, put some in his shirt pocket, and broke the filter off one to smoke now. He handed my depleted pack back, saying, "Lighter!" When I held out my Bic lighter, Willie grabbed it from me and lit Charles' cigarette. Throw up again!
Charles says, "Let's get going, William; I've had all this block party I need for the rest of my life." Those two started heading away from the party, with Willie saying, "I had to park my car way over on Elm; the parking situation in Cambridge sucks." Charles grumpily replied, "Among other things." Then he muttered, "That's quite an impressive hickey you got on your boy's neck, though. Looks like something Carl would do, and Larry would approve."
I'm walking behind them on the sidewalk, but I can hear Willie say, "Yes, well, I don't know about Carl, but Larry's been mentoring me through each step of my relationship with Dylan. I've made some missteps, and Larry thinks I'm spoiling Dylan. I am, too, but I love him." Charles says, "Please stop; I'll heave up whatever I ate back there. No more romance stories about your girlie boyfriend. You are such a loser, Will." Willie says, "I know, I know; I'll never learn. But, ah, do you remember what you said last year at Spring break?"
Charles seemed interested in something other than what he'd said at Spring break. He flicked his cigarette butt high in the air, broke off the filter
of another, and put the new cigarette in his mouth. In an uninterested manner, he mumbled, "Spring break? No, how the fuck am I supposed to remember what I said at Spring break? Get me a light, and where the fuck is your car?."
Willie reached around to me and said, "Your lighter, Dylan." I grimaced in disapproval but handed him the lighter. Willie lit Charles' cigarette, saying, "The car's parked on the next block. Ah, Charles, last Spring break at Snyth's party, you said you'd never fuck me one on one, but if I got a hot enough boyfriend, you'd consider a three-way. Remember?" At that comment, Charles did that dismissive bark of a laugh again and said, "Yeah... and?" Willie whines, "Well, I've got my boyfriend, and we're all here, and you know how much I've always wanted to do buddy-sex with you. Right?"
Willie tried to keep it light and humorous as he groveled and begged simultaneously. "Come on, Charles, we can stop at my house on the way to yours." Charles blows a lot of smoke out and says, "You are quite the pain in the ass, but I do remember saying something like that. However, I said a hot boyfriend, not some cute girly boy, and, by the way, have you got him in those frilly panties you're always talking about? I'd want to check that out for laughs."
Willie mutters, "No, not yet, but I'll put a pair on him tonight if you'll stop at my place and play gay for a while. You did promise, Charles." He
goes, "Yeah, I guess, but for only forty-five minutes tops. I'm horny anyway, what with Nathan throwing his guts up tonight and, therefore, being unavailable. I was going to do that boy a new asshole tonight."
We were at the car, and, as an afterthought, Charles nodded back at me and asked Willie, "Did you cover all this with her yet?" Willie turns around and tells me, "We're going to stop off at my house, and the three of us will play around a little. Some gay fun." I said nothing as usual; I just shook my head. Nope.
Charles sees that and, laughing out loud, says, "Who's under whose thumb, William? God, you are the biggest loser I know of. If we hadn't gone to elementary school together, at Prep, I'd be taking your lunch money and locking you in a locker like I did with that Dwight kid last year. Remember him?"
Willie wasn't listening to Charles, though. He'd grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the car a few steps. He has a firm grip when he's pissed off. Charles watched us, mockingly laughing as he got in the shotgun seat of the car. With a bright red face, Willie said, "C'mon, Dylan. Help me out. This is a bucket list thing. I want to check it off. Please., Dylan."
"I don't like him at all." Willie asks, "You do recall your promise to do something big for me to make up for you backing out on the Maine trip." I say, "I didn't back out. I was disinvited to the Maine trip." Willie says, "That's because you wouldn't agree to do the swapping part. You promised to do something important to me."
This was the second time tonight he'd gotten really wicked pissed off at me. We got over the first silly fight, and then we were having such a lovely night, and now this. I said, "I don't like him, Willie, and he doesn't like me, and I don't want to do anything with him."
Willie looked up in the air with an impatient expression, which I had recognized from about ten times I'd seen it. He raised his eyebrows, waiting, staring at me; then, "Your promise, please." I said, "Okay, Willie. You're distorting what I promised, but we love each other, so I'll do it for you." He said, "Thank you."
He was still angry with me for embarrassing him in front of Charles, but he nodded and looked at Charles, who was yucking it up at us inferior beings, Willie and me. Charles muttered, "Yeah, well, like I said, I'm horny tonight, so it's your lucky day." Getting in the car, Charles says, Worthington, did I ever tell you about the three-way with Larry, big Bill Wright, and me at the ski lodge last Winter break? Jesus, we were all smashed...."
I can't think of anyone I've ever met who I disliked as much as I delight Charles, so I didn't listen to his bullshit story. I was squeezed in the back of what, basically, is a two-seater sports car with this tiny backseat and zero legroom. Plus, Charles had his seat back as far as it would go. He's only five-eight at the tallest and doesn't need the seat pushed all the way back! The fucker!
I noticed Willie pulling his seat up so I'd have a little space to stuff my legs behind the driver's seat. Willie hates driving close to the steering wheel, so it was considerate of him. I'm into a serious pout and didn't say anything the entire ride. As we were driving up Willie's long driveway, I was conflicted between telling those two I'd rather walk home from here than have a three-way with that asshole Charles or close my eyes and get through it. After all, I rationalized to myself that I'd had a three-way with Larry and Carl that turned out to be pretty hot, and then the four-way with Larry, Carl, Willie, and me, which was really hot, too.
Earlier, Willie had said "safe sex," so that meant condoms, and I don't want to walk home, so I guess I'll make the best of it. Getting out of the car on Willie's side, he pulled me over and hugged me. Oh, God, I love being hugged by him. His eyes shining in the light from the spotlights blaring down at us from over the garages, he said, "I'm sorry about this, and I swear I'll make it up to you; just please go along with Charles tonight. It means a lot to me."
I snuggled against him, murmuring, "I'll do it for you, Willie. I love you." He whispered, "Just one time I'd like to get Charles to do something I want; one time in my life. That's all." Walking around the car to where we're standing, Charles mutters, "No whispering, girls, don't worry, there's enough man in me for both of you with plenty left over. Forty-five minutes, William, that's it!"
We went in the side door and were almost to Willie's room when the housekeeper asked if he needed anything. It was a little after seven o'clock, and Willie asked, "Do you need anything, Charles?" He mumbles, "Well, yeah, a big bottle of something cold, like Gatorade." Willie looks at me and softly asks, "Can I get you anything, Dylan?" I shake my head. The housekeeper gets a quart of red Gatorade for Charles. She says she'll be in her apartment, and the three of us go up the big staircase, down the hall, and into Willie's bedroom.
Charles chugs a third of the Gatorade bottle, then mutters, "Everything off, girls, and I want both of you in panties... chop chop!" As I get undressed, Willie's going through his bureau drawers. He mutters, "Here they are," and holds up three pairs of ladies' underpants, frilly, silky, with little bows around the leg openings. Charles pulled his shirt over his head and dropped his baggy shorts. He was wearing a jockey underwear. He stepped out of them and fondled his cock and balls.
I was naked, staring at Charle's fat cock. It was the length of my dick, which is a little under six inches, but Charles' cock was almost twice as big around, twice as fat with a bulging dark red head. He sees me staring and mutters, "You want to suck it, don't you?" I looked up, "Huh, wha...?" He gave me a look like he just stepped in dog shit and said, "Get your panties on, and you can suck it while I do your girlfriend."
Willie tossed me a pink panty with little white and pink bows. As I pulled them on, he burst out laughing, quickly saying, "Sorry, Dylan, I'm not laughing at you. This panty thing gets me laughing." He stepped into a pair of white silk panties with baby blue bows as decoration. They were too small for Willie, his long cock and his scrotum full of nuts straining the material outward. I had to laugh at Willie's big package, which challenged the integrity of the silk material, plus the goofy look on his face.
It's stupid, but we both laughed. Charles was laughing a little, too, and for once, it sounded like he thought something was funny rather than just laughing from scorn as he did earlier. As ludicrous as they looked on us, the silky material felt good. Willie and I grabbed our crotches and pranced around, with Charles laughing harder now. He had half a boner, too, which he was playing with. The thought that Willie and I had too much vodka at the block party flashed through my mind. I was grateful for it, actually.
Charles pointed at me, saying, "You, suck my cock," and then, pointing at Willie, "Worthington, you get a condom and pull your panties down to your knees." I tried not to like this, but I liked sucking cock, and Charles had a big cock. I wish it were on someone else, but this cock was a fun blowjob challenge. I'm kneeling in front of him, looking for instructions. Charles said, "Go ahead, lick it." Gently picking it up in my fingers, I licked the head of his cock, and he said, "Take it all in your mouth, kid. I want lots of tongue action."
Nodding, I sucked and lapped it, and incredibly it got wider, fatter. It was a mouthful, for sure. After two minutes, I had spit running down my chin, and his cock was as hard as a baseball bat. He cupped the back of my head, humped the head into my throat, and pulled forward on my head, getting the fat head into my throat two or three inches. I became as docile as a kitten for him, totally dominated without even thinking the word.
He fucked my throat for thirty seconds, tears streaming down my cheeks. Panicking was the worst possible thing I could do, so I concentrated on being submissive. He overwhelmed me in ten seconds, and I wasn't remotely prepared for that. He pulled his cock out of my throat, then entirely out of my mouth, and said, "Get behind me and get your tongue up my asshole. I'll fuck your girlfriend first and then you." I didn't give a second's worth of thought to not doing what he said. I scrambled around behind him and spread his fatty buttocks, and licked up his ass crack and over his anus. He was clean, but even if he weren't, he'd put me in a submissive trance, and I would have tried pleasing my dominant top anyway.
Willie mumbled, "You got me a little nervous now that it's finally my turn, Charles. That's a big one you've got there." Charles said, "Jesus, Worthington, you're finally getting what you've been begging me for all these years, and you whine about it. Jeez, what a cunt! Roll that condom on me and turn around."
I don't like Willie being talked to like that, so the submissive trance that felt so calming dissipates, and now I don't like Charles again, the pig. I stop rimming and spit in disgust. I heard Willie say, "OW! Go slow, Charles, please; it hurts." Charles says, "Oh, for Christ's sake, will you be quiet!" Willie screamed out a little as Charles did a big hump forward and then another one. I sat back on my ankles, waiting for him to notice I'm not rimming his ass. All I could think about was how this could be a sexy experience if it, for example, was Carl instead of Charles. As it is, this is the least sexy sex I've ever had.
Willie never sounded like he was experiencing anything but pain. His groaning and complaining got weaker and weaker the longer Charles fucked
him, but it never turned into those pleasure sounds Willie and I are used to. After five minutes, Charles starts smacking Willie's ass. From the grunts and more frantic humping, I guessed Charles was close to climax, and with two last violent humps into Willie, Charles goes, "Agggg, ah... oh fuck!!" and stops thrusting.
Willie had been jerking himself off but never actually climaxed by the time Charles pulled out. There were smears of pink coloring on the condom. Apparently, he'd broken some blood vessels up Willie's ass. Willie's face was pale as he walked into the bathroom, saying, "I've got to take a shit." Charles was breathing noisily as he turned to me, and putting an arm around my shoulders, he leaned on me for thirty seconds, then laughed and said, "Christ, I should have fucked him years ago. What a tight pussy! Jeez, great cum shot. Almost blew my condom off, haha."
In mid-sentence, he seemed to realize he was commiserating with a nobody. He made a face like, oh, it's you. Then snarled, " "Get this condom off me, kid." I pulled it off; it had a big load of cum, leading the way when I tossed it in the trashcan. I couldn't flush it because Willie was on the toilet, and I wasn't going to hold it until he got off, so I put it in the trash.
Still naked, Charles grabbed the Gatorade for a big gulp and then fumbled the last of my Marlboro Lights out of the pocket of his shirt, which was
lying on the chair. He looked around, and I knew what he needed, but I waited for him to ask. He looked at me, pointed at the cigarette in his mouth, and muttered, "Duh, I need a light, Darren?" I took my time getting my lighter out of my shorts and said nothing. Charles grabbed the lighter, lit his cigarette, smoked the Marlboro with the filter intact this time, and drank his Gatorade.
We waited for Willie without talking. I can outlast almost anybody with the silent treatment. I can remain perfectly still and let the silence build until the silence is screaming in the other person's head. It didn't bother Charles, though. Willie finally came out of the bathroom with his girlie panties pulled up. He was holding his ass with both hands, saying, "I needed to put a tampon up there, Charles, it was bleeding." Charles goes, "You've got your period, that's all," and then did that mean sounding forced laugh again.
Willie came over and put an arm around my neck, looking for sympathy, so I hugged him and kissed his cheek; then he kissed my lips, and Charles said, "You girls, hold off on that shit until I'm out of here or I'll vomit this Gatorade all over your nice silk sheets there on your bed, Worthington."
Willie ignored that and said, "Let's have a cigarette, Dylan." We shared one like Chubby, and I do it. Charles mumbles, "Your boyfriend was giving me the creeps, Will; he's like a zombie or something."
Willie snapped, "He is not!" Charles says, "Oh, fuck this. What a lost night! I'm going to kick Nathan's ass for leaving me at that fucking block party.
I didn't want to go in the first place." Willie looked at me as if he were sorry about Charles. He said, "Your friend got sick, Charles. You should have gone to the hospital with him."
Charles glared at Willie, then said, "The day I need your advice, I'll know it's time to jump off the Prudential building. As I said, I'll fuck your boyfriend's pussy, so he'll at least know what a real fuck feels like. I'll get him squealing like a little girl, but unfortunately, your skinny little dick, Worthington, might not do it for him anymore afterward". Then, once more, a forced laugh before adding, "We're done tonight after that. Got it?"
Willie said, "You don't need to do this, Dylan." I murmured, "I don't want to, Willie." He turns to Charles, "Nah, I don't want you to fuck him, Charles. This whole thing was another one of my bad ideas." Charles is indignant, "What the fuck? It was your fucking idea, not mine. It's his loss; let's get out of here. Christ!"
We quickly pulled on our shorts and shirt, and, in silence, Willie drove Charles home. His parents' house was only three miles from Willie's. When Charles got out of the car, he said, "I didn't care for your attitude at your house, Worthington, so don't come sucking around me at Prep. You're a loser, and I don't hang with losers!" Willie said nothing, and neither did I. Charles left the car door wide open. I climbed into the front passenger seat and closed the door. Willie looked at me with a grin, patted my thigh, and said, "Sorry, I wish I could blame it all on the vodka, but I'll take the blame for this disaster. The idea about the three-way with that arrogant bastard really sucked. What'd I ever see in him all these years? I'll make it up to you, Dylan. I promise!"
We were in front of my condo before nine o'clock. My Mom wouldn't be home until around one in the morning, and when Willie said he was coming in, I said, "Cool." It felt good in the condo, with the air conditioner maintaining seventy-two degrees, and it was the first real peace and quiet we had experienced all day. My arms went around Willie's neck, and his arms held me tightly around the waist, our mouths together, and we made out like lovers do, savoring the kisses, doing everything slowly, gently, lovingly.
I soon felt Willie's boner bumping against mine and then wetness at the head of my cock. I thought about pulling away, but before I could, Willie slid his lips off mine and snickered. "Dylan, I almost blew a load in my pants and remembered we're still wearing girlie underpants." I'd forgotten, but now I thought how nice my junk felt in silky underwear. We chuckled and had a few more kisses, and then Willie wanted something to drink, so we each had a Coke out on the front steps, smoking a cigarette. Willie told me he'd almost bought a pack of Marlboro in a convenience store the other day. "See, you got me hooked on this nasty habit, Dylan. You got me hooked on you too, baby." We kissed on my front steps, smoke drifting out of our mouths as we did it. I'm going to be outed by somebody someday soon if I keep this up, but Willie arouses me, and I can't resist him.
Inside, Willie, in a mischievous mood, says, "Do you want to play a computer game?" I shake my head and hug his neck, murmuring, "I'd like you to fuck my boy pussy for me" Willie goes, "You're so perfect! What did I ever see in that arrogant asshole, Charles?" He gave me a sweet, loving kiss that made me feel dizzy. Willie, the romantic. Something so nice. He whispered, "Your bedroom again?" I took his hand and led him to my bedroom, where we did it earlier tonight.
Smiling at one another, we removed our clothes, including our girlie, frilly, silk undies. Our boners bounced in front of us as we moved. Willie was doing his usual quick breathing as he got behind me and grabbed two fistfuls of my buttocks, maybe a little bit too roughly, saying, "Bend over and lean on your little bed there." His wet cock head was immediately at my hole. I said, "Use some lube, Willie." He didn't have any, and he didn't like Vaseline, but I said, "Please," and he said, "Sure."
Using tissues to keep it off my hands, I spread Vaseline on my anus and the head of his seven-plus-inch boner. I leaned over on the mattress, and Willie gripped my hips and went right up against my asshole with the slippery head of his boner. I pushed my ass back at his boner, and he took in a big breath and then humped hard, his boner going up inside me four inches. Vaseline is messy but very slippery, too. Willie moaned, "Ohhhh," and I tried not to scream in pain. It didn't take long before the hurt turned into the most fabulous feeling I've ever felt. Willie pushed in his full seven-plus inches and did a fast, full fucking of my ass with me, uttering, "AH!" with every full penetration. We both wanted to get off badly, and I floated with the stars as Willie fucked me.
I can't tell you how wonderful it felt. Willie was rough but gentle, too. I know that sounds wild, but I felt his love from beginning to end, which wasn't very long. Too quickly, I had a fantastic climax blowing cum all over my sheets. My heart pounded as I gasped a deep inhale, and my whole body shuddered with pleasure. He'd never had an orgasm during that geek, Charles, fucking him, but thirty seconds after I blasted off, Willie shot a lot of his creamy teen cum up my ass.
He dragged me up on the bed, and we hugged tight and kissed. He eventually had me in such a tight ball of arms, legs, dicks, and bodies I didn't know my dick from his. He got his boner up inside me a little later and did a slow fuck on me that had us both moaning in pleasure. The second climax was only a wet spray, but it felt good. Willie giggled about the panties some more and then told me how much he loved me, going on for fifteen straight minutes talking in a whispery voice that had me totally mesmerized. I could hardly move a limb the entire time.
We were sweaty and sticky with cum, so a little later, we took another quick shower together, crammed into my small shower. We made plans for our Tuesday date. I also tried to talk him out of going to Maine later in the week, and he said, "You've got me reconsidering everything, Dylan, but who'll be my roommate if Larry throws me out?"
It was like we didn't want to part, but Willie finally left, and I got ready for bed. After I had finished in the bathroom, I lay in bed, thinking, how can I love both Willie and Robby and then have a special love for Chubby that's even stronger than my other loves?
Sunday morning, lying in bed at seven o'clock, I'm hoping to fall back to sleep. Willie left a little before midnight, and I still smell him on the sheets. He fucked me in my bed so nice last night, and I still have a wonderful squirmy, warm feeling in my ass, and since it happened seven hours ago, that's impressive.
Yeah, my ass feels so excellent it makes me wonder if I'd ever feel this sexually satisfied if I were straight. I can't imagine I would; of course, I'll never find out because I'm not straight. You can't pretend you're gay and then pretend you're not. You also can't pretend you're in love and then try to pretend you're not when you are.
So, I'm stuck being in love and gay. I have a problem with the being in love part because I might be double in love. I'm in love with Willie and may also be in love with Robby. He's certainly lovable, as is his personality, voice, looks, and everything else. I haven't noticed any mean streak or moodiness in Robby. It's more like, yes, Dylan, is this okay, Dylan?" I love you, Dylan... That's Robby Dickers.
I don't want to hurt Robby or Willie, but I can't see myself being a two-faced, two-timing, selfish bastard stringing Robby or Willie along just for sex. NO! I won't do that, so I've got myself a severe problem here and haven't a clue how to resolve it.
The thing is, I'm weak. I don't want to be a two-faced, two-timing bastard, but at the same time, I'm saying I can't envision giving either of them up, and that's a contradiction right there. Robby is very new to gay boy sex, but that's part of the magic of him, part of what's so special about him. I've more or less lusted after him for the past year, which covers months before I even acknowledged to myself that I was gay. In those days, I wanted us to be good friends. Then, discovering I'm gay, and discovering five months later that Robby is too, and finding out he has a crush on me... well, come on! Who's tough enough to blow that off? Not me, that's for damn sure.
Then, I love Chubby as my best friend of a lifetime. I love him more than anyone else, but without the deep sexual intimacy I have with Willie and now Robby, too. Well, it doesn't look like Chubby and I are ever going to have that kind of intimate sexual relationship. Hell, I don't think Chubby's gay, not entirely like I am, anyway. We do have the deepest brotherly love ever in the history of modern man, though, so we will always have that going for us.
Willie doesn't know anything about Robby, but Robby knows I have a boyfriend named Willie because I told him I do. Even though he's never met Willie, Robby's told me he's jealous of my relationship with him. He says he's jealous, yet he doesn't know the true nature of our relationship in that he doesn't know Willie and I are in love. Robby is so innocent when it comes to love, even more innocent than I was five or six months ago. He's such a sweet kid; he says he likes to do stuff for me. He wants to be the bottom, submissive guy to me the way I am for Willie. Yeah, I'm versatile in that regard.
Well, more accurately, Willie insists on it, so... So okay, Willie's got a few issues, but who doesn't? There's some nonsense in Willie's head, but it can be fun sometimes. The way he's so serious about the nuttiest stuff, that's fun and funny at times. Plus, on the serious side, Willie is brilliant and has done more things in his life than anyone I know. Plus, he's not just some cute, funny kid. He is that for sure, but he's also an athlete, a good dancer, intelligent, and he has a hot convertible car and buys me expensive gifts. What's not to love... haha? But I'm being silly; it's all the obvious things about Willie, plus some subconscious thing in my brain that made me fall in love with him. No, I can't articulate it; it's just there.
I'm in love with him, and that's all there is to it. Strangely, it's almost like I had nothing to do with it. It just happened. So that's where I'm at; what the hell will I do about it? How do I keep both Robby and Willie? Who can I say goodbye to? Ohmigod!
Thinking about these things while lying in bed, I eventually fell asleep. The next thing I was aware of was the sun shining brightly in my eyes and Chubby rubbing his hand back through my faux flattop, saying, "Awww, ain't he cute," and when I opened one eye and smiled at him, he muttered, "Get in late again last night, did you? You're turning into a real tomcat."
I groggily mumble, "What does that mean? Tomcat?" Chub says, "Come on, sleeping beauty, we need to make Sunday breakfast," he gets one arm under my neck and the other under my legs to pick me up and drags me from under the covers. I put my arms around his neck and hugged his head against mine, saying, "I love you, Chubby." He dropped me, and I slid off the bed as he stage-whispers, "Goddammit, Dylan, your mom is right on the other side of that door!."
Oh man, Chubby and his paranoia! I say, "Kiss me, bro," and he gets angry for a second, then laughingly helps me off the floor and kisses my cheek, asking, "Are you happy now, ya homo?" He smelled so warm, so yummy; I said, "Oh bro, kiss me on the lips, not my cheek!." He was back to, putting his finger to his lips, "Shhhh! Come on, get dressed."
I love Chubby. He leaned on my bathroom door jamb to watch me brush my teeth, take my pee, wash my face, and finally, we're both back in my bedroom. I pulled on some wrinkled cargo shorts, and Chubby tossed me a sleeveless T-shirt that I pulled over my head. Stepping into some sandals, I was ready to face the world.
"Look at these guns on me, bro," I challenge Chubby as I make fists, showing off my biceps. Chubby makes a muscle in his right arm, and I was surprised to see his muscle definition. I go, "Dude! How'd you get so toned?" He laughed again and said, "Washing windows is not a job for
weaklings," then we went to fix breakfast.
This morning, I had waffles with real maple syrup, Jimmy Dean breakfast sausages, and honeydew melon. As usual, I walked the three blocks to Dunkin' for coffee while Chubby put the sausage in a frying pan, got out the waffle iron, and gathered the ingredients to whip up the waffle batter.
During breakfast, the Moms flipped a coin to see who was going out with Chubby and me for our first behind-the-wheel, live driver-training action. Tris lost the coin flip, so she's first, and then Chubby and I flipped a coin to see who would drive first. Chubby, of course, won, so he'd try his hand at driving first. I'd be in the backseat with my fingers crossed, hoping he does well. I'd also have a tight seatbelt around me with my feet against the back of the front seat if he doesn't do well.
When Chubby was settled more or less, Tris, in excruciating detail, explained what every gage, button, and hole on the dashboard and steering
column were and how each worked. Then, done with that, Chubby changes seats with his mom, and she says, "Before you start the car, show me your learner's permit, Jeff." By the look on Chubby's cute face, which I could see in the rearview mirror, I knew he'd forgotten to bring it. He lied, "It's in my wallet, Mom."
We drove home and got it. "Start her up, Chubby." Yeah, we made the same goofy mistakes all young people make learning to drive. We were all stressed out after an hour and a half. Later, no one felt like cooking, so we ordered Domino's pizza. Then, Chubby and I were in the basement on the recliner, watching the Red Sox, and, like in the old times, Chubby was against my side, and I emotionally felt close to him. We've done everything together our whole lives; learning to drive was the most recent thing. I put my arm around his neck and hugged him, and Chubby didn't stiffen up; he molded into my side.
I'd do anything in the world for Chubby, and I never wanted to hurt his feelings, but remembering the beginning of our driving lesson made me all of a sudden burst out a laugh. Chubby says, "You prick, you better not be laughing at my driving," and he started laughing too, but to save face, he also got me in a headlock. We wrestled on the recliner until we both had a hold on the other, and it turned into the sweetest hug we've had since sleeping in that double bed in Wildwood. I thought about Willie and me hugging each other as we slow danced at the block party, and I wanted so badly to do that with Chubby. Swaying to the music, our faces side by side.
I said into the side of Chubby's head, "I love you. Chubby," and he mumbled, "Me too, bro," and we hugged a little longer until Chubby said, "Okay, my homo best friend, time to be real," and we broke apart with me saying, "You're the homo, you started it." Chubby smiled and said, "We're both homos, Dylan; you know that as well as I do." He said it in such a pleasant, matter-of-fact way I didn't know how to take it. I wanted so badly to tell him I was gay, but I was afraid.
Yes, I am afraid. Not afraid we wouldn't still be best friends forever, but afraid we'd be a different kind of best friends after I said it like maybe the fact that I'm gay would change things. We'd be best friends but with an asterisk next to our friendship or something. Taking a chance Chubby might be gay was too big a chance to take when our perfect friendship might hang in the balance. I couldn't make myself say the words. Chubby went upstairs to his condo after the game, and for a while, I concentrated on the smell of him on the arm I'd had behind his head.
I'm not a pervert jerking off every two minutes, but in bed with just my boxer shorts, I was speculating how it would feel for Chubby and me to be dancing together, wrapped in each other's arms, and then after that, I thought about Robby and me making out, and then what about Chubby and me making out... oh my God! My boner was too hard to ignore, so I stroked it while thinking about the reality of Willie and me making out, and in a short while, I clenched my jaws together, curled my toes up tight, humped my crotch up off the bed, and shot a hot stream of cum on the clean section of the sheet. Damn!
Now, I had to roll over to the crusty part of the sheet where my climax from the other night had splattered and dried. Hey, as it turns out, it's not too bad sleeping under cum-dried sheets; it's very homey. After the climax, I went to sleep quickly because student driving is a bitch, and I was all tuckered out.
I didn't see Chubby Monday morning because he left early for work, trying to impress Ricky. Then, the Monday morning bus rides are the gloomiest of the week. No one likes Monday mornings very much. I smoked a cigarette while walking from the bus stop to the Dickers Landscaping offices and garages. Before walking through the door, I popped a stick of Doublemint gum in my mouth to cover my cigarette breath. I said good morning to Mr. Dickers and Toby, who were having coffee together in the lobby, talking about something that had them both laughing. Maybe they were writing Joel's work evaluation. If Mr. Dickers hadn't been there, I would have been groped by Toby, but that's okay. Yeah, I've grown to like Toby.
The first line of lockers in the worker's locker room is for the foreman, and Joel was there with a fresh haircut, looking scary as usual. He looked up as I tried to sneak by him. He crooked his finger for me to come over to him, and when I stood straight in front of him, saying, "Good morning, Joel," he said, "Good morning, Newman. We're definitely on for this Saturday. I almost had to postpone it again, but I managed to work around a problem."
As my balls shrunk, he looked at my hair with a frown. Balls! I tried to stand taller, coughed nervously, and averted my eyes. Pinching hairs in the front of my head, Joel snarled, "These have got to go if you expect me to show an interest in you, and we both know you want my interest in you."
I didn't want confrontation, so I said, "Yes, Joel." He was in a mean mood this Monday morning because he tugged on those hairs so hard tears ran down my cheeks, and at least six or eight hairs were pulled out of my head to drift down to the floor, and that fucking hurt! I didn't complain, though. He mocked me by mimicking the way I had said, "Yes, Joel" Then, in his normal voice, he said, "You need a strong hand on that bubble butt ass of yours. This weekend is something you desperately need. You'll agree that it's been good for you even before it's over."
His tongue poked out the side of his cheek as he said, "Do you give head? I'll bet you do!" He grabbed my jaw and, moving it back and forth, said, "Don't worry too much about Saturday night, but you'll hate it." He laughed a mean-spirited short laugh. He took hold of my lower lip with his thumb and index finger, pulled it out, and then ran his little finger against my lower gum, saying nicely, "Seriously, Dylan, I'm betting by Sunday afternoon, you'll have forgotten all the nasty stuff from Saturday night and be concentrating on pleasing me while enjoying yourself at the same time. This will be good for me, too. I like helping Twinks learn how to survive happily. You'll be fine." Letting go of my lip, he smiled and mumbled, "You don't have a clue, do you? I'll take care of you. Don't look so worried," and he patted my cheek.
There was some sour taste in my mouth from Joel rubbing my gum with his little finger. It was gross! I'm feeling humiliated again, but he was almost nice today. Still, I've decided to get out of the overnight thing with Joel. I had talked myself into getting it over with, but it'll never be over if I do it once. I'll confide in Willie and see if he has any ideas. It's weak, mainly because Willie will be in Maine with Larry and Carl this weekend. I have this crazy idea that Willie would know what to do. I felt that way because he knew what to do about things in the past, and I expected him to have an answer to this.
Walking away from Joel, the college guys saw me, and one yelled, "Stop! Bobbsey Twins require a morning inspection!" This is one of their routines. They tease Robby and me that we're the Bobbsey Twins, and sometimes they'll do this mock inspection. Clayton says, "Hmmm. Okay, good, you stayed away from all barber shops as instructed. Same baby face, check, same skinny body, check. Let me smell your breath," so I did a long exhale right in his face, and Clayton says, "Ah ha! You've been chewing gum again. Take it out and put it on your nose; no gum chewing." I put the wad of gum on my nose and was then allowed to pass. They're good guys, and I heard one say to others, "They're good kids," meaning Robby and me, so the feeling is mutual.
Changing at my locker before going down to Robby's, I thought about all the reasons I did NOT want to confide in Robby or Chubby about the Joel problem. The number one reason is the solution might be tremendously disruptive to Dickers' organization. To have this pervert-nutcase, Joel, forcing an underage kid to spend the night with him, with those cock rings and banded balls or whatever it was Joel had said is in store for me, that news gets out and gets blown up even worse than it already is, and then the newspapers and radio/TV guys are asking what kind of a company would have such an employee, and blab, blab, blab.
Telling Chubby brings out the gay situation, and if I tell Joel directly to fuck-off, he's going to snap out, and I could end up seriously hurt or dead.
That doesn't reflect too well on the company either, as police will want to know how a boy got so beat up he died. I've already tried discussing this with Joel logically, but he rejects what I say out of hand and won't even consider that I don't want it, whatever "it" exactly is. I mean, I know he's going to fuck me; that goes without saying, but the other stuff. What's that all about? The discipline stuff he says I need, or whatever the hell he's talking about.
The Dickers have been too nice to Chubby and me for me to allow their company to get blown up with a scandal, one that Joel would claim I brought on myself. And what would my Mom think? Plus, my being gay complicates it even more. I feel helpless, and of course, the
underlying thing is I need the money from this job. I still owe more for the rest of this year's auto insurance. I'm fucked, except I'm betting
Willie will come up with a solution of some kind.
I'd almost convinced myself I would not need to spend a night with Joel, so my step was lighter as I skipped to Robby's locker. I was excited about seeing Robby's cute face and that oh-so-hot taut body of his with that fabulous ass. The ass I'd love to grab a fistful of and then fuck. Damn, I'm getting another boner. I tossed my gum into a wastebasket, then tried to make myself smile for Robby. He heard my footsteps and met me as I turned into his aisle. "Hi Dylan, how'd your student driving go?" I told him Chubby and I were ready for the NASCAR circuit, and then, I ran my fingers through his silky light blond hair and said, "I missed you."
Robby was all over me with hugs and kisses until I murmured, "Maybe we need to be cooler about this. We need to be off to the bat cave before we get caught kissing here." He smiled, hugged me, and we returned to the old locker section, where I told him to stand still. He did what he was told, like a good cub scout, and I got my arms around his neck and kissed him the way Willie and I kissed. Robby's arms immediately wrapped around my waist, hugging me into him tightly. His tongue was very active, and our lips made smacking sounds as we swapped spit. The spit spread as we rubbed our noses together and got sloppy.
Before I could think straight, it turned into a significantly longer period of making out than the two or three minutes we allocated for it; both our cocks were very hard. Robby's cock being short, tended to point straight out from his groin when hard, while mine usually pointed up. I liked
bouncing against his spike, and as I worked my arms down from around his neck to grab those fistfuls of ass I mentioned earlier, Robby began to
pant in my face, warm, moist, fresh-smelling exhales like an overheated puppy dog.
He was hotly aroused as I got my hand inside the back of his shorts, beneath his jockey underwear, and massaged his bare buttocks as Robby kept humping into my crotch, right on the shaft of my boner. My index finger was running up and down his ass crack, slipping over his hole, which was becoming slightly sweaty. When the pad of my finger was damp enough, I poked it up his asshole to the first joint, then slowly inside to the second joint. I began finger fucking his hole with short one-and-a-half-inch thrusts, making sure to rub right over his prostate. Robby started making these odd squeaky sounds and quietly saying, "Oh, Dylan..." between the squeaks.
I finger fucked him for only ten seconds or so until he went up on his toes, humped hard into my crotch, then held his groin right against mine, blowing lots of air in my face. I knew what was happening, and sure enough, his sphincter ring closed tightly on my finger as he spurted cum into his underpants, making high-pitched noises, our foreheads touching. His sphincter muscle tightened with each of the ejaculations of creamy teen cum shot off in his pants. It felt weird having his hole close so tightly on my skinny finger.
Robby collapsed against me after climaxing. He moaned, "Ooh...Ahhh..." his face was hot, my finger still up his hole doing little wiggles to
scratch his itch. My other hand rubbed the back of his head gently as he rested his forehead on my shoulder. Lots of breathing in between the "Ooooh" and Ahhh" sounds and then, "That felt amazing. That surprised me and felt so good I can't even describe it."
I'd just done to Robby what Willie's done to me a few times, and now I knew how good Willie felt when he did it to me. I didn't want to detract from Robby's feel-good moment by mentioning Willie's name, so I didn't tell him it was Willie and his cohorts who taught me that way of getting a guy to cum in his pants. It was a nice thing knowing how much pleasure Robby felt from me finger fucking him. He was clinging to me, and it was like I was helping him the same way guys, particularly Willie, had helped me along in my early gay days.
So, that was excellent, except how would I get myself 'off' this morning? I didn't feel comfortable whacking off in a locker room lavatory stall like Robby did last week. We walked back to his locker with my balls still loaded with cum, which can be distracting. Robby was so relaxed he was joking about the cum in his pants being wet, cold, and feeling yucky. At his locker, he dropped his shorts and his underwear and stood there with his pecker and balls hanging out while he fished in his locker, saying, "I know I have some almost clean underwear in here somewhere." His penis was shriveled up after the climax and couldn't be more than three inches long. His short dick made his regular size nuts look bigger than they were.
Huh, he might have the smallest cock I've ever seen on a teenager, and yet he appeared unconcerned as he made didn't hurry to get his underwear on. I stared at his dick, remembering how it tasted when I sucked on it in the truck last Wednesday. Hell, I want to suck on it right now. At least suck off the cum that is still drooling from his climax. We heard some noise up front, so Robby quickly slipped on underpants, grinning at me, muttering, "Whoa..." Then, we put on Dicker's landscaping shorts, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap, our work outfit.
Walking outside with our lukewarm coffees, I realized we'd missed the morning massages. Jeez, getting Robby to blow a load in his pants was so hot, though. Taking a sip of my coffee, I smelled the shitty odor on my finger and went back inside to wash it, thinking how everyone's shit smells
the same.
While working, I thought about Robby, and every time I looked up, he was across the lawn or at the pick-up truck, always busy doing something worthwhile. It made me realize what a hard worker he was. He was a conscientious kid at school, at work, and play. I had this odd feeling thinking about him choosing me to love; it was all so wicked sweet and made me feel proud. I'm pleased and proud he chose me.
When I wasn't thinking about Robby, I thought about tonight after work when our driving instructor would pick Chubby and me up at the condos. Chubby's mom started us, and now a professional driving instructor is taking over. An older woman with a reputation for being a hard grader and nasty, like she hates being a driving instructor. It was a bad break being assigned to her.
After thinking about that, I'd think about my date coming up with Willie on Tuesday night and how important that can be. Of course, I'm referring to my hope he can come up with a solution to my Joel problem. When I thought of Willie, I usually wound up thinking about my guilty conscience for cheating on him, and then I'd get depressed because I didn't know what to do about that. Willie or Robbie? They're so different, but I can't conceive of telling either one that I won't see them anymore.
I ran home from the bus stop after work so I'd have time to shower quickly before the Driver's Education instructor arrived. Outside, after my shower, I met Chubby sitting on the steps smoking. We hugged, and then he said, "You go first this time, Dylan. I went f first yesterday."
After two hours, I drove us back to our condo, where Ms. Overbite wrote some information on a form, and Chubby and I signed it. She ushered us out of the car, and without saying anything else, off she went. Chubby and I rolled our eyes as we watched her turn the corner, and then we high-fived each other and slowly went up the steps to the condos. We were hungry and tired; it had been a tense evening with that woman scowling at us every minute.
Inside my place, Chubby and I did a fist bump and told each other we did great; then, after a quick hug, he said, "She sucks, but I don't care. I only care about getting that license. God! The things we need to do to get it, huh, Dylan?" I sarcastically say, "Oh, it's been a piece of cake every step of
the way so far, Chubby." We shook our heads and then got busy fixing our late dinner of Kraft mac and cheese, which we ate along with considerable fat hotdogs covered in mustard and onions. Lots of orange Kool-Aid, too. We went down to the finished basement to watch the end of the Red Sox game and fell asleep against one another.
Chubby woke me up at midnight, mumbling, "Jesus, look at the time! Learning to drive is exhausting". Then, as we walked upstairs, I said, "How about crashing with me right here for tonight, Chubby?" He moaned, "Dylaaaaaan, you know we're not doing that anymore." I groaned, "Why not?" and Chubby said, "I'm too tired to argue with you tonight. Then a quick hug goodnight and he went up to his place.
The following day, the bus was late, and I fretted about that because it meant my time with Robby before work was cut short. After the bus ride, I saw Joel enter the lavatory inside the Dicker's Landscape and Design building. It reminded me that it was this Saturday that I was supposed to spend the night with him, and that reminded me that I needed to try to get Willie's help tonight to somehow prevent Saturday night from happening.
Again, I admitted to myself that I had no idea how Willie could help, but I wanted to tell him about Joel at least. Willie wouldn't want Joel to do whatever he's going to do to me. Willie will know. After changing into work clothes, I hurried back to get as much of my good-morning, eye-opening make-out with Robby as possible. He beamed when he saw me, "I was worried you weren't coming to work today," Robby said in that super sincere manner of his. He reached out his hand and squeezed my arm as if to ensure I was there.
Damn, this is something awesomely new for me, being special to someone. I'd thought Willie made me feel special, but with Robby, there was a different feel; it seemed more genuine, without pretension or something like that. Is he innocent and naive about his apparent infatuation with me, or is it simply puppy love? I honestly don't know, but Robby is investing a lot of himself in our relationship so far, and I feel a responsibility not to disappoint him. I wish one of us knew what we were doing, though.
I mumbled that my bus was late and nodded toward the way-back locker section. Robby grinned and said, "Let's go!" I didn't finger fuck
him this morning, and he didn't cum in his pants, but we both got our boners, and we both had red faces covered with spit when we headed back to his locker and our lukewarm coffees that we'd left sitting on the bench. The bell sounded for work, so we drank the coffee in the back of the pick-up truck, exchanging glances and smirks that had at least one of the Hispanic guys frowning as he tried to figure out what was happening.
That probably would have concerned me a few months ago, but now I figured it's his problem. The work day flew by okay, with an unseasonably pleasant eighty-degree temperature and easy lawns to cut. The tough lawns are the ones on the sides of hills. We'll be doing those on Thursday, and that's no fun but doable. I enjoyed working outside, with Robby always in the vicinity so that I could catch a look at him from time to time.
After work, Robby and I did our massages, snuck in a few kisses, waved goodbye, and started walking toward my bus stop. It's good that today wasn't an extra hot one because Willie was meeting me at the bus stop, and I'm sweaty after extra hot days. Earlier, I washed up in the lavatory and am in reasonably good shape. He's taking me to that barbershop where he first got all his beautiful hair cut into the silly nineteen-fifties-style flattop, a unique haircut choice.
I have a funny feeling in my balls because getting a haircut is almost a sexual thing with me lately. Maybe I'm developing a fetish. I don't know about stuff like that. I'm mostly unrealistically expecting Willie to think of a way I can get out of spending that night with Joel. My life would be so much better without Joel in it. Willie's waiting for me in his convertible. I walked over to his car slowly, allowing the bus to get around the corner before I got in the passenger seat because I expected Willie's kiss and would rather my bus companions not see that.
After our hello kiss, he tells me I'm a sexy-looking worker bee, and after he ruffles my hair, he says, "You sure about this haircut, Dylan? You don't need one, and I thought you wanted to let your hair grow out to a longer hairstyle, like me." I grudgingly say, "I don't want to, but..." my eyes teared up like I was eight years old. I turned my head. Willie asked, "What is it? What's wrong?" I muttered, "Come on, Willie, the barbershop might close before we get there."
Willie said, "We aren't going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong." I whined, "I'll get in trouble if I don't get a short haircut. Now, c'mon!" He asked, "In trouble with who?"
Well, I was going to tell him, right? It's only Tuesday, so I can get a haircut to satisfy Joel later this week. I took a deep breath and said, "I hope you can help me." I started, "At my job, there is this horrid person," but Willie held up his hand and said, "Hold off until we get to my house. Too much noisy traffic and it's uncomfortably humid." I nodded, and Willie drove to his house without us talking.
After parking at Willie's huge house, his arm goes around my waist; we start walking. I'm getting more and more nervous. This is humiliating, and what do I expect Willie to do about it anyway?
To be continued...
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