DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 18
by Donny Mumford
After Monday night's dinner all four of us, Robby, Carl, Pony, and I take five minutes to clean up the kitchen and get the dishwasher going. From my perspective, this is obviously a much better approach to cleaning up the kitchen than the other night when I was cleaning up everything myself at midnight.
What made me smile to myself the most from tonight's activities was the way Pony jumped ship going from me as his barber to Danny. Yeah, can I believe that traitor had the balls to dump me like that? Heh heh, but what the hell, Pony likes the flattop Danny gave Carl better than the one I did for him last year. Are my feelings hurt? Nah, not really! Probably a year or two ago I'd have felt differently but not now, and I'm not sure why that is. Perhaps it's simply that Danny's into giving haircuts and so I'm no longer the only one who thinks doing haircuts for your buddies is cool.
Yeah, but Danny being 'into' cutting guys' hair is a curious development. He doesn't have a haircut fetish. Hell, he's probably unaware there's even a fetish for that. If I had to guess I'd say Danny likes doing it for no other reason than he's seen me be the group's barber, and then for a while it was Rob, and so now Danny wants to do it. That sounds lame, so I'm probably wrong. Here's an idea: why don't I ask him?
That's a radical idea, but ya know what, Danny's a very unpretentious guy and he'll come right out and tell me. A bigger question for me should be, why the fuck am I so blase about not being the home-haircut barber? I mean, considering how I've had so much sexy fun doing it for years. Is it because I've come to like Danny so much? Could it be that simple or am I simply impressed at how quickly he became pretty fucking good at it? I don't know, maybe it's just the novelty of it.
After the kitchen clean up the four of us joke around for a while but tomorrow is another day of classes so we make it an early night. I wonder if we'll be this responsible a month from now? Not likely, but then most of us start off the first semester with the best intentions of concentrating on the academic aspect of college life. It's not long though before the real reasons for going to college overtakes our best intentions. I'm referring to having sex, drinking too much, and in general partying irresponsibly. Our rationalization being that we won't be able to get away with any of that shit after college so why not make the most of it now, ya know?
This is our first week so we're still acting temporarily responsible by agreeing that Rob will drive Carl and Pony back to their dorms at the ridiculously early hour of ten o'clock. While he's doing that I figure I'll have a cigarette on the balcony and mull over my successful start to senior year, especially in the side sex department. That luncheon-sex with John Smith was pretty hot and hopefully a harbinger of things to come. Very fortuitous that Robby got called away for that Coach's luncheon. I'll take that as another positive sign that things are turning around for me in that regard.
Hmmm, what's also on my mind is 'topping' Pony. That boy really got into our buddy sex last year and I expect the same this year when he gets his act together! Exhaling smoke I grin as I'm saying out loud to myself, "Oh yeah, and there's that spanking part of sex with Pony." Why the hell did I say that out loud? After glancing around to see if anyone else is on their balcony to hear that, I think about Pony's insistence on the spanking part. I mean, spanking him sure as shit was never my idea! I'm not a dominant 'top' or even close to one, but it is kinda fun to once in a while spank that cute hairless ass of his and watch him spring a boner. Yeah, he's a sexy-hot little fucker alright! Obviously, he sort of reminds me of myself when I was much younger and stupider.
Huh, and I don't know why I insist on thinking of Pony as 'little' since we're almost exactly the same size. Maybe it's what I just thought... it's because he reminds me of myself when I was three or four years younger. I say 'little' meaning 'younger'. I also liked getting spanked or tied up, or whatever the fuck, back in my early days. I still like sub/dom sex but with much tighter parameters on the 'dominant' part. When I was younger though, Omigod, anything dominant was okay while now I'm okay only with more moderate stuff. Pony likes being tied up, spanked, and probably other stuff he's too embarrassed to mention. Yeah, and me being a poor excuse for a dominant 'top' is probably the reason Pony nags me to spank his ass. That's pretty much the extent of my dominance. And, it goes without saying that neither him, nor I, nor anyone else knows why we like sex the way we do.
So yeah, even though I prefer sub/dom sex myself, the 'dom' part I tend to interpret much differently now. A couple of years ago there needed to be real dominance displayed by my 'top' before I'd sense the maximum thrill of sub/dom sex whereas now I don't want anything to do with hardcore dominance. I don't know any hardcore dominant 'tops' now anyhow! It's still fun being the submissive 'bottom' though. And I say that even though most of the dominance I need to make up in my head nowadays. It's goofy I know, but I'm not in control of my subconscious mind! Ya can't fight it, well I guess I could but if it's basically harmless why not go with the flow of my mysterious subconscious mind?
Ya know what though, I even feel a touch of that 'dominant allure' when 'topping' Pony even though I prefer being submissive during sex! So yeah, I can see how it could maybe get to being, um, intoxicating for guys who were dominant to start with. Bullies in childhood or whatever. Psychologically I don't know why they're like that. And Ryan was a dominant 'top' who'd get carried away with it. He's in an even stranger category than most too because he experienced being super submissive before becoming the opposite with me. It's all very hard to understand. I've experienced a number of different dominant 'tops' but there was always a point when I'd say 'NO!'. Jesus, I gotta wonder how far they'd take it if I didn't say 'NO!'... and there are some submissive guys who don't ever say 'NO!'. I think I read that somewhere...
Whatever, I still like being sexually submissive in my preferred 'bottom' position but with Pony, like I mentioned, I've discovered I also kinda like the other side of things by being a pretend modestly dominant 'top'. It's a cool change of pace and of course, Pony plays up all that stuff where he acts like he loves me and I'm his idol so it's all sexy gay fun. I don't take any of it too seriously although I am very fond of Pony sex-wise and otherwise.
Pony's complicated too. I mean, even though he's sometimes immature and acts like my little brother when we're together, that's not how he acts around everyone else. He's the complete opposite of that with others. I'm not saying he's an arrogant ramrod with others or anything, but his last year's roommate, Tom Higgins, did claim that Pony was a prick to him half the time. Not with me and though and at the same time Pony is good at bantering back and forth with me. He's pretty good at giving it out as well as he takes it. Mostly he pretends we have more of a relationship than is the actual case, and who does that sound like? Danny maybe? Whatever, Pony's fun to hang out with.
So yeah, buddy sex is looking up now that I've got 'topping' in my future with Daryl Ponti, Ponyboy, and also an occasional lunch with John Smith. That's my side sex so far but it doesn't need to be all there is. Plus I haven't even mentioned my major buddy sex with Danny. That Sunday afternoon was nuclear hot when Danny and I fucking our brains out during one sex-filled afternoon. He was really something special with his almost-dominant 'topping' during sex combined with his almost lover's sex. Very unique! Both were especially impressive considering he was dealing with a major hangover!
Omigod, what if he was one-hundred percent in tip-top shape? Well, maybe his slightly drunk hangover condition freed up some inhibitions. Hard to tell. Whatever though, it was the best time I've had with him and that's saying something because every time we've had buddy sex I thought it was special. Ha, I say 'every time' when all summer it was only two or three times... total. And that was for like a twelve-freakin'-week-period.
Giving up on all these musings, and my cigarette, I go inside and then down the short hall to the bathroom where I strip naked. After pissing and washing my hands I use my electric toothbrush for two minutes which seems like forever but my dentist says you need to brush your teeth for two minutes. Fuckin' sadist!
While I'm brushing I've got the water flow on full blast in the shower giving it time to reach a temperature I like. It starts out as cold water for a minute before it even begins heating up. It's the same way the shower works at home. I mean my second home with Rob. I read somewhere it's because the shower is a long distance from the hot water heater. I'll probably include that bit of information in my book about useless things taking up space in your brain, space that could be better used.
Done brushing my teeth I put my hand under the shower head and, yes... the water is just right now. Getting in the tub and pulling the shower curtain closed I let the hot water flow over me for a minute before I start shampooing my flattop hair and then, when I've got my head under the flow of the water rinsing the shampoo out of my hair the shower curtain opens and I almost have a heart attack! It takes a second for my brain to get around to recognizing a naked Robby who's smiling while getting in behind me, saying, "Hope you don't mind, babe, but showering together will enable us to get to bed sooner." BOOM, BOOM, BOOM goes my heart. I mutter, "Did you ever see that old movie, 'Psycho'?"
Pushing me gently over so he can get under the flow of water, he goes, "Psycho? You mean the original movie? There was also a TV series and a remake of the original movie some years ago." I mutter, "Forget I mentioned that movie," but I can't help smiling that he's knows all that shit. He snickers and squeezes my bare ass as I ask, "Why do we need to get to bed sooner? It's like ten-fifteen for chrissake." He slips in front of me and cups my face between his hands and then kisses my lips before saying, "Because I desperately need me some Dylan Newman tonight... sexually speaking that is." Nice! Hmmm, I gotta believe Rob's buddy/side/sex situation isn't exactly blooming of late because this boy is always horny, which is a good thing for me by the way.
Wiping my hand over my face getting water from my eyes, I go, "Good plan, Robby! Hey, let me shampoo your hair as a reward for that good plan of yours." He says, "Ooooh, yes, take care of me, Dylan, be my slave." Pouring lots of shampoo in his hair, I mutter, "Close your eyes," and then rub my fingers through his hair and then massaging his scalp with my fingertips for a minute. Robby goes, "That feels so good!" I mutter, "You have a perfectly shaped head, Robert." He goes, "Whaddaya mean?" I'm like, "Yeah, I've noticed your perfectly shaped head for years now but don't recall if I ever mentioned it to you." He's like, "No, you never did. How is it perfectly shaped?" Robby has his eyes closed so I get to stare at his handsome face. I put my hand on the back of his head, saying, "You don't have an exaggerated slope back here, one that juts out too far like on some goofily shaped heads I've given haircuts to. Your head is rounded," and I move my hand down lower on his head, saying, "And you don't have any bumps on either side like I've noticed on other guys' heads when I was cutting their hair. Bumps like skiing moguls. Your head is fucking perfect!"
Haha, I sounded stupidly excited saying that thing about his head being perfect and Robby laughs out loud, and then he goes, "Thank God something on me is perfect, but what are skiing moguls?" I'm like, "Fuck moguls! If I were a suspicious person I might think you were fishing for more compliments. I mean considering that last pathetic remark of yours about nothing being perfect about your person." He goes, "Nope! I'm not fishing, sweetheart!" Sweetheart?
Rob's in an awesomely good mood... and without the aid of any adult beverages too. Then, in a more serious manner, he goes, "Speaking of my perfect head, Dylan, do you think I need a haircut? I mean, I know I need one but who should I ask to do that; you or Danny?" I say, "Danny, of course, he's our barber," and Rob mumbles, "Really? You don't mind?" I go, "No, but you better make sure he's studied the tutorials for whatever kind of haircut you want."
I push his head under the flow of water to rinse out the shampoo. After rubbing his head to get all the lather out of his hair, I mutter, "You're good." Rob's wiping his eyes, asking, "What should I tell Danny I want? I mean, will he know what a preppy haircut even means?" I squeeze some bath gel onto a washcloth, mumbling snarkily, "Well, that's something you need to discuss with your barber, wouldn't you say?" He laughs out loud again, mumbling, "Yeah, I guess it is, smart-ass..." And he mutters to himself, "Ask my barber, my ass." Rob takes the washcloth from me, saying, "I'll bathe you first, pretty boy."
As we bathe each other I can't help but marvel at how magnanimous I've become about Danny doing everyone's haircut. Well, let's face it, I'm such a good sport... hahaha! No, seriously I'm okay with it and that's because it's Danny. That's my conclusion; I'm only okay with it because it's him. Someone else trying to be the barber I might find myself resenting that person like I resented Golden Summers last year. I resented him and was envious of him too, but I was so much younger and immature last year. Yeah, and being less mature I got a tad petty about Golden doing all the haircutting for us. You might even say I tried undermining his haircutting by badmouthing it to anyone who would listen; not that it did any good. Everyone still went to him for his lousy haircuts.
Hahaha, I was terrible, but that was Golden last year and this is Danny this year. Danny likes doing it so much too, which is very different from Golden who was always bitching about doing it. Not that anyone cared about his bitching since the haircuts were free. And another reason I can be magnanimous about Danny being the barber is I expect what happened with Rob will happen with Danny. What I mean is he'll lose interest in it like Robby did, and then I'll be our barber once again. So, knowing that, maybe I'm not as magnanimous about it as I thought.
Yeah well, it's only right I end up being the barber again since I started home barbering for the neighborhood in the first place. I'm the originator and all the barber equipment is mine, although no one apparently remembers that now. Well, Rob did chip-in buying those new clippers for that dumb-ass 'undercut' hairdo of last summer. And another thing, although I wouldn't mention this to Robby, Danny's a better barber by far than he ever was. That's one more reason I'm not having a difficult time going along with this temporary situation.
Getting out of the shower Rob and I are drying ourselves as he says, "After I brush my teeth, it's right to bed for you and me, babe." I nod my head and he does a big smile, adding, "Damn, I love that we can just hop in our own bed together and fuck, don't you?" I nod, "Absolutely, babe!" He chuckles and then starts brushing his teeth. After watching him do that for ten seconds, I say, "I've got extra brushes that fit my new electric toothbrush, Rob. You can use one if you want. It times you and a 'ding `goes off after two minutes. You better be timing yourself to go the full two minutes too or your dentist will chew your ass out."
With a mouthful of toothpaste he's splattering the mirror with tiny toothpaste spots, sputtering, "My toothbrush works fine, but thanks for offering, babe. Oh, and my dentist can go play with his torture devises because I'm not doing this for two minutes! " I go, "Just saying. Oh, and I should mention I'm thinking of getting a Water Pik too. Whaddaya think about that?" Rob stops brushing, and says, "Will you stop staring at me while I'm doing this. It makes me think I've got a big mole or a pimple on my face or the back of my neck or something." After two seconds more of staring at him, I mutter, "You do have a big mole but since you hurt my feelings I'm not telling you where it is. It looks bad too!" He laughs out loud again, spraying the mirror with toothpaste specks.
In the bedroom, I get in bed naked. Even though I spend time thinking about sex with John Smith or Pony or even Danny, my main man is definitely Robby. I just like our sex better than doing it with anyone else. It doesn't always produce the most out-of-this-world climaxes like sometimes happens with other guys, and Rob's cock isn't the most perfect one for anal sex, and there isn't the thrill-ride aspect I sometimes get with a semi-dominant side sex partner, but I don't care about any of that... it's simply the best sex I have every time I do it with Rob.
I'm aware that buddy sex partners have the advantage of 'newness' in the sense I'm not doing 'it' with them two or three times a day like I am with Rob. So that 'newness factor' isn't there with Rob and me, but then it's the familiarity factor with Robby that makes me like it the best. And after saying that, every time Rob and I have sex it's basically new in one way or another anyway! Plus, I feel comfortable, safe and loved, and taken care of when having sex with Robby... and being in love makes it even better! Nobody on the planet loves and cares for me like Robby does... except Chubby.
Rob comes into the bedroom all smiles as he exaggeratingly shows me his teeth before saying, "See, sparkling clean just for you, baby! Accomplished in only one minute of brushing!" He is so happy about well, everything I guess. I know he loves that he's back playing a boys' game, but playing it seriously as a member of the Merrimack baseball team, and I know he's proud that he was selected to be a mentor for a freshman again this year and I'm guessing about this, but while he's happy about working for Dickers & Son I think he's glad for the break from his Dad being his boss. I can also tell Rob loves that I'm living with him at home, and of course here at college too... and all in all, he's a happy boy. So am I.
Robby pulls the covers back and gawks at my naked body, exclaiming, "Omigod! You're so hot, Dylan," and he climbs in bed. I'm like, "You too," and he lies half on my body while pulling the covers over us, murmuring, "I've been thinking about doing this with you all day," and he gives me a couple of really sweet kisses but then the sweet kisses soon turn into wilder ones that have us both moaning with desire and then our making-out gets even more intense with our hands all over each other, our clean white teeth scraping together while we're doing hot and wet sloppy hungry kisses. Our making-out is almost, but not totally, wrestling as we're rolling around on the bed with our naked bodies always touching. I think Rob intended some slow sweet lover's sex but things got out of control quickly. No, I'm not horny but Robby's apparently a very horny guy and whether I'm horny or not I'm always up for this.
We're groping each other while flopping around on the bed, squirming against one another's naked bodies until Robby's lying totally on top of me. Our faces are squished together, our noses bumping and our lips kissing and sucking and then our tongues lick together with our mixed saliva all around our mouths and chins. Fuck, my cock is so hard it's almost painful. Rob lifts his head taking his face off mine as he gasps for oxygen. He takes two big breaths and then puts a hand on my shoulder to lift himself up so he can reach the lubricant on the bedside table.
Another deep breath from Rob with me doing the same deep breathing plus my heart's beating too fast. With the Astroglide tube in his fingers, Rob flops off me onto his back, murmuring, "This is almost empty, babe." He's unscrewing the cap of the Astroglide lubricant turning his head to look at me as he grins, saying, "Your turn to buy some," and I go, "Uh un, no, that's too embarrassing." He snickers and says, "Online, dummy," and squeezes lube on his fingers while nodding his head that I should turn over. Instead, I just go up on my side facing away from him and his middle finger is immediately at my asshole pushing slippery lube inside me and around the lips of my anus and then one of his fingers goes deep inside as I gulp and mutter, "Ooooh." Rob's finger slides around in there and then rubs my prostate and my shoulders hunch as I grunt, "Ahhh." His finger comes out but I know my anus will very soon be stretched open wide and then wider to accommodate the entrance of Rob's fat hard boner that will be going in one way or another.
It's never been measured as far as I know, but when Rob's penis is hard its circumference is definitely way larger than average, the average circumference being between four to five inches. I used to think Rob's hard cock had the circumference of a Coke can but subsequently, I've looked closely at Coke cans and Rob's hard cock isn't quite that big around although it is one of the bigger ones for sure. I've had lots of other big boys' cocks up my rear end so I know something about boners with bigger than normal circumferences.
Whatever its exact size, my rectum has been broken-in and now accepts it without me screaming out in pain although there is always initial hurting going on. Only temporary hurt though and the hurt is less than it was four years ago or even one year ago. I don't mind it, the hurt I mean. What I find most fascinating is, after I've been fucked really hard by a big fat cock, whatever its circumference might be, is how it leaves my asshole gaping open. I forget when it was, but once I backed up to a mirror and looked behind me and that wide-opened asshole of mine was something to see! Kinda freaky, but I was weirdly proud of my asshole for being so obliging and so extraordinarily capable.
Rob's got my asshole properly lubed-up, muttering, "We're good to go, baby," so I drop down on my back and wiggle my ass on the mattress a little 'cause my ass feels gooey and kinda itchy. Heh heh... Rob will take care of that soon enough. He holds the Astroglide up, saying, "Put your hand over here, Dylan," and when I do he squeezes some Astroglide on my fingers and mumbles, "You get my wee-wee all lubed-up this time, okay?" Holding my lubed fingers out, I go up on my elbow looking down at Rob's fat hard cock and then wrap my thumb and first two fingers around it and just squeeze the shaft being careful not to get lube on the head. I wanna stare at that inviting looking hard head with its big pee slit 'cause it's a freakishly interesting-looking cock on this boyfriend of mine. By the way, my fingers don't reach all the way around his boner.
Squeezing his boner gets Rob doing a quiet groan and then he starts sucking in some air as I grin at him. Boners are quite sensitive ya know, especially when a friend strokes it for you. Funny how extra intense the feeling is when it's someone else's hand and not your own.
The foreskin has pulled mostly off the head of Rob's penis in its present condition, which as I mentioned is presently in a condition called by many... 'a boner'. Yeah, it became enlarged and hard during our foreplay. I pull the rest of the foreskin down to exam how clean I got it when I was bathing him in the shower. It's sparkling clean.
Still holding onto the shaft with my fingers, I lean over and suck on the head, my tongue swishes over it a few times. Robby's back arches off the bed as he moans, "Mmmm, aaaah, oooh fuuuuck." Grinning around his fat boner head I let my tongue lap at the head a little more and about three seconds later a big bubble of pre-cum forms. No taste to it, but I know it formed because my tongue slides more easily around the head. Pre-cum is nature's lube although it can't hold a candle to Astroglide, although I can't imagine what a candle has to do with it.
Rob pushes my head away and moans and then sputters out, "I'll cum." Lifting my head I see his boner's head is shining with my spit and his pre-cum. It looks so cool! Using my thumb and the first two fingers of my right hand I spread the lube up and down his four-plus inches of hard cock. It's stroke, stroke, stroke on his hard cock and then my hand slips over the head spreading lube there too as Robby makes a scrunching 'face' and gasps a few times.
When his cock expands another quarter inch I let my fingers slide on down past the root of his boner leaving it sticking straight out from his pubic hairs as I wrap my fingers around his nuts. Robby's body tightens as he goes, "No," but that was just a reflex response from him. Anyone would reflexively say, "no' when someone grabs their nuts. When I squeeze his nuts he goes, "Aaaah, ooow," and pushes my hand away, muttering, "Brat." He chuckles a little and then sits up and grabs hold of my shoulders pulling me over towards him so I obligingly flop down on my stomach.
I'm wiping the lube off my fingers on Rob's side of the sheet as he gets behind me and spreads my legs. He pats my ass so I push it up. I look back when I feel the fat head of his boner hit my asshole and see the intensity in Robby's eyes. Without a word he exerts pressure and my asshole begins spreading and spreading and now it hurts as it spreads some more before that fat head slides very tightly inside me... and thank God for the help of the lube. As usual, I hold my breath during the entrance and watch the black dots dance behind my tightly closed eyes.
Rob waits to let my asshole get used to its new, um, circumference. It takes some discipline on Rob's part to leave just the fat head of his boner inside me. I appreciate his patience as I'm aware that the sensations coming from his cock are probably screaming for him to push the rest of the anxious shaft inside me so his entire erection can enjoy the awesome sensations. Rob's too considerate of me to do that. This time he is anyhow. Other times he can't help himself and I, as a very good 'bottom', completely understand why that sometimes happens.
While waiting, Rob rubs both his hands up and down my back and then he rubs down my sides and then past my hips and over to squeeze both my butt cheeks pulling them tighter together against his buried cock's head as he's quietly letting out a long exhale and then he goes, "Oooooh, this feels so good, babe." His hands go back to grab my hips and pull me up a little and then he leans forward pushing his fat boner up inside me inch by inch spreading my rectum significantly. His fat boner's trip up my ass is helped along greatly by the Astroglide as up, up, up my ass goes that big boner... that fat sex organ of Rob's. Ooooh, yeah, it hurts so fucking good! I shudder with arousal not really thinking all that much about the hurt part of the process.
We're obviously not talking, mostly we're doing deep breathing or quiet moaning. Then I feel the tickle of his pubic hairs on my buttocks and then his crotch is against me... and then against me tighter, as he groans, "Oooooh," and leans fully against my ass. His hands go forward to rest on the bed on either side of my chest, his head and torso hovering over my back as his knees spread a little further to better put pressure on his fat boner that's impaled and opened my rectum dominantly. He humps against my buttocks a few times just because he can. I know that somewhere in his brain is the awareness that he's in a very dominant position, but probably without him thinking the actual word 'dominant'.
As for my part, I let myself relax into a nice dreamy submissive frame of mind. I mean, what else am I gonna do? Have you ever seen nature films where wild animals, like tigers, are in heat and the female fights the male at first but she eventually becomes docile under the male as his organ impales her and she admits she's been dominated and adopts a submissive posture? That's my mindset without the female references. Rob has me totally dominated sexually, so basically in my brain, I think... oh no, I'm dominated again by this strong male fucker!
For me, I grovel with sexual pleasure in this state while totally embracing the feeling of submissiveness to my 'top'. Rob moves his knees a little more getting seriously comfortable and then humps harder against my buttocks getting me to lift my ass a little more. When I'm in the exact position he wants me in he begins fucking me slowly. Our earlier wild makeout usually leads to fast and hard fucking but Rob must be feeling amorous and he's decided he wants to do the lover's sex he had in mind initially. I suppose my horny boyfriend wants it to last, and even in my un-horny condition, a slow drawn-out fuck suits me perfectly. If I'm really horny, which I haven't been thanks to Rob, Danny, and John Smith I prefer it fast and hard. This is just right for now though.
My eyes are closed to better concentrate on the sensations coming from my rectum and off my throbbing boner. My hard boner is snugly under me pointing tightly up my belly and feeling wonderful. Rob's wickedly hard boner pulls back and then it goes right back up my ass, but slowly. All around my very stretched asshole there's that familiar almost itchy sensation replacing any lingering pain. The itchy feeling makes me tighten the muscles in my ass and buttocks to grip Rob's boner almost like I'm hoping it will scratch harder at the itchy feeling that's so tantalizing it almost makes me scream... scream at how sensationally sexy it feels. That plus my thumping-with-pleasure prostate that's silently screaming out sexual pleasure like nothing else can match. Those two monstrously awesome major areas of pleasure, my anus and prostate, plus my aforementioned throbbing boner and the fantastic feeling of being totally filled up back there joins with the idea in my head that with Rob's dominant hard cock up my ass I'm almost 'one' with him... so for me, like I mentioned earlier, this is a sexual pleasure trip no other 'top' can match.
Rob is able to maintain the slower thrusting for a number of minutes, minutes I'm not keeping track of but I'd guess it's been maybe ten minutes of me floating in a sea of sexual pleasure before I notice a definite speeding up of Rob's thrusting. Yes, and along with the harder and faster thrusting, I hear some desperate breathing sounds coming from Robby and then he moans, "Mmm, ooh, mmm," and I'm guessing he's now under the control of his building orgasm. Nothing he can do about that no matter what he'd prefer, which is probably another ten minutes of the slow-moving pleasure train we've been on together the previous ten minutes or so.
Nope, the thrusting is definitely much faster now as the mesmerizing steady movement of his boner has speeded up noticeably and I hear the first subtle sounds of us males fucking in earnest... "Slap, slap, slap". At first they're quiet sounds, subtle sounds but soon they're more pronounced as Robby gives way to his 'need' to climax and it's, "Aaaah, ahh," from him and, 'Slapslapslap," sounds distinctly heard now as my own climax ignites and I begin trying to hump up at Rob's thrusting and it's five, ten, fifteen seconds of almost scarily increasing sensations with climaxes building to a crescendo. Rob gasps and gets tight against my buttocks humping there, his fingers digging into my hips as he makes whining pathetic sounds and then his climax explodes inside my ass. I feel that first streak of cum and it sets me off too.
My squeal is muffled with my face in Rob's pillow as cum streaks out of my boner, my whole body shaking as thoughts of anything else in this world completely evaporate and only this climax of mine matters... nothing else in the universe means anything to me, just my orgasm! And then another streak of cum shoots out and my private universe is a bright glaring world of pleasure that defies description. Yes, the thrilling but indescribable sensation of climax spreads out from my cock transporting me for the next five or six seconds to another place, another dimension.
The bad part is that it only lasts a few spectacular seconds and then I'm moaning quietly and doing my normal deep breathing as a shudder of fleeting pleasure leaves me weak... and then it's all done and only now do I feel Robby on my back and hear his breathing sounds and feel his heart beating fast against me. Then even more reality seeps into my consciousness and I also feel my own cum cooling under me and Rob's heavy weight on my back and as the last tiny sensations of climax fade totally away I'm back on planet earth dealing with, um, oh no... reality! I mumble, "Ew, I'm lying in my own cum again, Rob."
He mumbles, "Are you sure it's yours? I shot off so hard my spunk might have gone right through you to shoot out your dick." I mutter, "That's probably what happened, yeah." He rolls off my back, pulling his cock from my ass and as he does it, I go, "Aaaah," as he sighs and says, "I love having sex with you, Dylan," and he hugs my side against him and rolls up on his side with his now limp sticky cock flopping against my left thigh. More reality right there. His cock feels cool and wet, which is a harsh description considering fifteen seconds ago that cock was inside me and I was in utopia on another planet or maybe even another whole universe where everything was perfect and totally all about pleasure... and now it's a cold wet limp sticky penis against my leg.
I don't complain about it though because I like Rob showing me a little affection after sex. Showing me some love as he gets an arm under my neck and pulls me up on my side a little as his other arm is going over my side to hug me. He says, "You smell like bath gel, baby," and he snuggles his face against the side of mine. He smells like bath gel too. My arm goes over his side and now we can hug tighter, which we do for like a minute. Letting go of me, Rob says, "I love you," and we get mushy for a while talking to each other quietly with our faces six inches apart.
As usual, Rob does most of the talking telling me things like how happy I made him by moving in with him this summer, and how he was proud of me that I had the guts to do that even though he knew I was self-conscious about leaving my Mom at home, and how me living with him and his parents showed him that I trusted and had faith in his judgement. He tells me that me having faith in him is the biggest compliment I could ever give him. Then I listen to many compliments about the job I did for Dickers & Son with the benefits package and he tells me nice things people said about me at work, things that I didn't know about and so, of course, I'm happy to let Robby continue doing most of the talking.
He's always been extremely generous with compliments for me and gladly gives me credit for things that I didn't fully deserve. I mean especially after I moved in with the Dickers. I'm referring to him telling his Mom or Dad that it was mostly me who was responsible for us doing this or that; whatever it was they nagged Rob to do around the house. He more than shared the credit, he gave most of it to me.
Now, to catch his breath perhaps, he reaches over to runs his fingers back through my hair a few times before quietly saying, "And Mom and Dad think you're fabulous, Dylan. Mom told me, and I may have told you this before, how shocked she was at first about me being gay but that you being my boyfriend somehow made it seem okay to her. Ya know like it wouldn't be okay if it was another guy which kinda sucks in some ways but she's not as openminded as Dad, who said to me when I told him I was gay that we all need to be who we are. Anyway, like I said, because of you even Mom was good with it and since then I've never heard a discouraging word... as that song goes." I don't ask him what song he means. Instead, I let him go on to tell me complimentary things he's told me before as well as other things I didn't know about, and all the time he's talking he's either running his fingers through my hair or rubbing my arm or doing some kind of touching, his boyish-sounding voice putting me in the most pleasant hypnotic trance imaginable. It's all very loving and sweet... and I love him too!
I finally get a chance to tell him some compliments and how he's a great influence on me in many ways, which he makes a 'face' at like he doesn't believe me but he smiles too. Finally, we get tired of that and then laugh at ourselves for overdoing it like we tend to do and then, without saying anything, Rob moves his right leg over me while rolling me towards him and I go back down on my stomach. Silently we fuck again for even longer than the first time. My second boner feels so fucking good all through our second sex it even surprises me. It was throbbing right on the verge of exploding minute after minute. And, of course, there wasn't even the initial pain of entry... it was a wonderful fuck!
Rob climaxed quietly with just a deep breathy sound but his body got so stiff I knew when he was doing it and after like ten seconds of gasping he went back to thrusting until he heard me squeal at my second climax of the night. We're so tired after that we have a silent kiss and then an encouraging smile at one another. That's all that was needed before we fall sleep in our cum- streaked bed. Our semen unavoidably getting scattered here and there on the sheets during our twin fucks but we don't give it a thought; that's how tired we are.
Next morning though, Tuesday morning at nine-ten, I give our cum a thought or two because I'm sticking to the sheet in two or three places and I don't see the humor in it so I'm a little grumpy. The alarm Rob set is what woke him before me, and then Rob patting my shoulder is what woke me up now. I go, "Jesus! Do you see this, Rob? I'm stuck to the fucking sheets!"
I'm just noticing Rob has a towel around his waist and his hair is wet, so I stop my complaining momentarily to ask, "Did you take a shower already?" He nods, muttering, "Yes, I let you sleep," and he yanks the covers off me. I'm lying on the bed naked, frowning at Rob as he separates the covers he pulled off to gathers the sheet in a ball and then he throws in the hamper. Huh.
I mutter, "I guess I'll get up now," and when I do Rob pulls off the bottom sheet and it suffers the same fate as the top one. I'm standing here watching him take a pillowcase off a pillow. "Um, Rob," he looks over at me, and I ask, "Are you mad at me?" He smiles, "Nooo! Not at all, baby. Why the fuck would you ask me that?" I shrug, "I don't know, um, you're not saying anything." He's got both pillowcases in the hamper now, nodding his head at the desk chair, asking me, "Would you pass me the bottom clean sheet that's on the chair, please." I pick up the sheet and he goes, "That's the top sheet. I need the fitted one," and I go, "I know that!" and then mumble, "Changing the sheets, huh?" He chuckles and says, "Yeah, ya wanna help?"
We do that and then put the fresh pillowcases on the two pillows. As Rob spreads the blanket over the fresh sheets, well it's actually a comforter, not a blanket, he goes, "Okay then, good to have that done! Ya know what, Dylan?" I shrug, "No, what?" and he comes over to pat my cheek, the cheek that's on my face, not my ass, as he says, "I hope I get your awesome body sticking to the sheets again tonight too." I go, "Oh boy!" and then ask, 'What time is our first class? Do I have time for a shower?"
Dropping the towel that was around his waist, he puts on underpants, saying, "I can't believe you don't know this. On Tuesdays, we have no morning class and then that snooze fest Rock and Roll class is at 11:45. It's two-hours and then at two o'clock, we've got the fifty-minute finance class." I go, "Oh yeah, I knew that. I'm gonna take a shower." Rob goes, "There's a coffee I made for you along with a cinnamon bun if you want it. They're both on the kitchen bar. I'm gonna fix us a light lunch around eleven o'clock." Lunch? We should have a big breakfast and skip lunch. I don't say that though because Rob's got it all planned out apparently and I like that he's getting into the frame of mind to prepare our meals, um, even if his timetable is a little fucked up. I mean, lunch at eleven o'clock?
I'm watching him get dressed and then ask, "What's gotten into you with all this domestic activity, Robert?" He smirks and does a little chuckle. I go, "No, seriously." He says, "I wanna do more for us; that's all. Go get your breakfast, or take a shower or do something." I mutter, "I need coffee," and he tosses me my khakis. The ones I left lying on the desk.
Putting them on, sans underpants, I mumble, "Thanks, I'll have a coffee and that bun and then take a shower." He nods and I walk down the short hall to the living room and then, calling over my shoulder, I ask, "When are we gonna get the slipcover for this damn sofa?" He says, "We can go after baseball practice if you want." That remains to be seen. Damn, my ass is itchy from Rob's dried cum that's in and around my asshole, plus random lube. Ewww, haha.
Jesus, speaking of gross, I once read online about a practice some gay men have of shooting a load of cum up their buddy's ass and then they rim his ass and suck out the cum. Now that's gross! There's even a name for it which I've forgotten.
Yeah but, why in the fuck did I think of that? I mean, especially just before eating breakfast? Sitting on the stool at the kitchen bar I sip my coffee and then yell down the hall, "The coffee's cold!" He says something I can't hear but it could have been 'no shit'. Wiggling my ass, trying to scratch the itchy dried cum, I take a bite of the cinnamon bun and... yum! Getting up while chewing that sweet roll I stick my coffee mug in the microwave and hit the 'reheat' button and then watch the mug go slowly around and around inside. Why I'm acting retarded this morning? Heh heh, and the PC police can't read my mind so I can get away with the 'retard' reference.
After drinking the coffee and eating the sweet roll I feel like a smoke but go to the bathroom for my shower instead. Showers are great and always my first choice over a bath. Staring at the shower curtain for a second I'm thinking that there are exceptions to the shower rather than a bath rule. I mean like Rob's and my recent bath together. The one we had the first day we were here in the apartment! Whoopee! That was an awesome time in the bathtub!
And I really like how Robby's been acting lately too. It's great to see how happy he is here at Merrimack. Back home I was always wondering what mood he'd be in after work. His Dad put a lot of pressure on Rob. Actually, Rob put even more pressure on himself trying to impress his Dad. Anyway, some days I'd be walking on eggshells worried he'd snap at me after a bad day at work. That was a metaphor, by the way, the walking on eggshells thing. I wasn't really walking on eggshells. Who would do that?
Huh, that's right, some days Rob would be very uptight after work and that thought makes me realize again that this is our last year of college, so what will our lives be like a year from now? Married or not, I'm sure we'll be living together so will it be like it was last summer with me on pins and needles wondering what mood he'll be in after work every-fucking-day? Well, I wasn't actually on pins and needles either and, anyway, mostly it's been wonderful living with him.
Living with the Dickers family was really nice overall. I think I liked being part, or almost part of a family life and obviously I mean no disrespect to my Mom. It was just something new and kind of cool getting fatherly advice from Mr. Dickers and some not so subtle hints from Mrs. D. when Rob and I needed to do something when we'd put off doing a chore. Yeah, we had chores even at our advanced age. I didn't mind though and actually, I kind of liked it. Anyway, Mrs. D. would suggest we get to doing um, whatever it was in a nicer way than the very direct way Mr. Dickers would do it. Just silly little things like that are examples of what I liked: things that most guys take for granted from living with parental control all their lives.
Jeez, sometimes I wonder about the way my mind drifts. I started thinking about Rob's excellent frame of mind which morphed into thinking about how much I enjoyed living with him and his parents. See, time tends to make things seem better. I see everything as peaches and cream when I think about me living with the Dickers when the truth is I had a difficult few early weeks getting comfortable there. Now, looking back on the summer as a whole, I'm glossing over the awkward parts. Still, thinking about it, the entire experience was pretty fucking cool and good. It really was!
When I finish the shower and dry off, I get dressed putting on underpants this time before putting on clean khakis and a Merrimack hoodie sweatshirt. I put on socks and then step into Dockers and then look at myself in the mirror over the bureau. It's only been four or five days since Danny gave me this haircut and already I could easily comb it in a couple of different ways. That because my hair grows faster than anyone's hair I know about. I'm positive of that, and happy about it as well.
My hair is also developing some wave in it as I get older. I first noticed it when I let my hair grow out at the beginning of last summer. I like the slight waviness because the short bangs of this flattop aren't straight as a poker, like... well like Rob's hair. Even though I've got choices I'm gonna comb my hair in the flattop hairstyle. It's an okay 'look' and why disturb Danny, Carl, and Pony. They all think it's a great flattop and like I said before, I've noticed guys on campus with versions of flattops so it's not like this is some kind of freakish hairdo. For Christ sakes, J.D. Martinez on the Red Sox has a take-off on a flattop haircut! So I guess if it's good enough for him with all his millions of dollars, it's... well, you know the rest... if it's good enough for him, it's blah, blah, blah...
Joining Robby in the living room, I ask, 'What'cha doing, babe?" He grins, "Don't call me that! I've emphatically told you before that you're the 'babe' and 'baby' in our relationship." I'm like, "I don't remember you being emphatic about it." He's sitting in the armchair with his laptop in his, um, lap. I go up behind him and look over his shoulder to see what he's looking at. Ha, it videos he's downloaded of him batting in the batting cage. I go, "How much porn do you watch?" He says, "None! That's because I've got my own porn star living with me." I stretch my neck to kiss his cheek, saying, "I like you, ya know that?" and he says, "I like you too. Um, do you wanna mess around?" Holy shit, my dick gets tight and my throat seems to close up as I grunt, "Uh huh, but I wasn't hinting around about that." He closes his laptop and gets up, saying, "I know that, silly. I know you like a book and therefore I know when you're hinting around for sex. It's my idea this time 'cause you make me crazy horny. C'mon, we'll do the dirty deed in the bedroom."
Wow, I really like this even more than usual because it's unexpected. Following Rob, I'm trying to think of something cool to say but I'm feeling so fucking good about Robby being so fucking into our sex that I can't think of a fucking thing to say. Plus, he's being so proactive and in-charge of us having lots of sex that it's like, well... it's like I always wanted him to be.
In the bedroom, Rob hands me the Astroglide, mumbling, "I ordered more Astroglide online. Overnight delivery supposedly, but just to be safe we oughta make whatever's left in there last today and probably tomorrow." I nod and twist off the cap as Rob pulls my khakis down, and says, "Ya better step out of your pants so we don't get anything on them." I kick off my Dockers, still in sort of a state of shock as Rob pulls my underpants down and I step out of both my underwear and khakis. Rob's humming a familiar tune but I can't think of its name. He gives my ass a good hard, "SMACK!" and then takes his jeans off. I make a face quietly saying a belated, "Ow..." He grins and reaches over to smack my ass again but I step away from his hand. Sometimes I think getting spanked is sexy, but not nearly as much as I used to... although occasionally, hmmm.
Reaching behind me I smear some lube on my asshole and then squeeze some more on my fingers. Rob stands in front of me sort of pushes out his hips. I spread lube on that fat cock of his and then I want to kick myself because I should have sucked a boner on that penis of Rob's. Dammit! I could still do it but it's not the same now that I smeared lube on it.
Rob isn't thinking about me sucking his dick though as he pushes my hand away from his cock, murmuring, "Thanks, babe, it's plenty hard," and then he strokes himself while grinning and saying, "Don't look so worried, Dylan. I haven't gone crazy or anything. It's just that I was sitting in the living room hearing the water running in your shower and picturing you in there naked. I mean, who wouldn't, ya know? Anyway, I got kind of giddy thinking about how much I love having sex with you." His cock is bone-hard alright, and it's sticking straight out again in all its fatness. Man, that's a boner!
Rob takes hold of my chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulls my head up to say, "I love you like crazy, Dylan." Omigod, I was staring at his cock. That's why he lifted my head. I say, way too seriously, "Thank you, Rob," and he grins like mad and then says, "This will be quick and hard... just the way you like it, baby. Um, but could I ask you to turn around?"
I go, "Huh? Oh, yeah, of course," and as soon as I do that Rob pushes the back of my sweatshirt up and touches the head of his cock against my asshole. I shudder at how cold it feels for a second or two. His arm comes around me under the sweatshirt and he spreads his fingers on my bare chest and plays with my nip ring. A few seconds later his arm pulls me back against his chest. He's wearing a button-up-the-front shirt and with my sweatshirt pushed up near my shoulders I feel the buttons of his shirt down my spine and the shirttails against each side of my buttocks.
Putting the side of his face against my ear, he whispers, "I couldn't love anyone half as much as I love you," and his big-circumference boner goes tightly up my ass. I hold my breath; my body gets as tight and stiff as a two by four. Rob murmurs, "Sorry... that probably hurt you," when his boner has completed its journey up inside me and Rob's tight against my ass. He lets out a long exhale with his minty mouthwash breath like a breeze across the side of my face.
My body does a full shudder as my rectum adjusts and Rob asks, "You okay?" I nod my head and he kisses the side of my face near my ear. Rob waits a full minute and I feel so good being hugged this tightly against him; it feels wonderful and safe and I feel loved and wanted like I thought before... it's really nice! We probably look stupid though with our naked legs and Rob's shirt hanging down in this position, me with socks on my feet but it feels good!
After a murmured, "Here we go," Rob starts a fast, hard fucking and I soon need to bend over to grab my knees. The hands Rob had on my chest slides down to just above my groin gripping my hips to keep me tightly in place as his hips move very smoothly and very fast. I think it's sexy and perfect the way Robby did everything this morning... I love the extemporaneousness of it all. Plus, of course, every expected excellent sensation is happening in my ass just the way it's supposed to so my face is scrunched up, my eyes tightly closed as I try absorbing everything that's feeling sexually awesome coming from my ass and my harder-than-stone cock.
Omigod my cock gets so hard as Rob's cock keeps pounding up my ass hitting everything it should and then the orgasm freight train has me in its grips and I barely have time to savor that sensation when I hear Rob's gulping in noisy breaths for a second before we both climax at the same time. Cum gushing up and out of my boner that's sticking straight out, but with me bent over like this the streak of cum shoots right under my face with spray hitting my nose and then again! I'm squealing and sort of struggling but Rob's got me held in place thrusting hard for another twenty seconds before letting go of me, backing up and bending over himself, his hands on his knees as he tries catching his breath.
"Oh fuck... oooh, Jesus," Rob moans, and then he snorts out a laugh, saying, "That wasn't unusual at all, huh? Just your normal under control sex act between lovers, full of affection and, um, whatnot." I gasp in some air as I put my hand on my chest feeling my rapidly beating heart. Holy shit, climaxing takes a lot of energy. Wow! I take another deep breath and then straighten up and say, "I loved that! Seriously... that was an awesome climax! What was your name again, mister?" He straightens up too, and mumbles, "Don't give me that 'mister' shit again, son. I told you, call me 'Sir'. Um, you're the pizza delivery kid, right?"
I go, "Oh man, another load of your spunk up my rear end and I just finished cleaning my ass of your spunk in the shower!" Rob says, "C'mon with me, I'll clean it for you this time." We walk to the bathroom with our dicks swinging in the breeze. Rob does all the cleaning on my ass and dick while I stand here with my arms folded. When he smacks my ass, saying, "You're good to go," I dry myself as he washes his dick, mumbling, "Don't worry, Dylan, I'll wash my hands before fixing lunch." I mutter, "I sure as shit hope so! What are we having?" He goes, "Hot dogs, potato chips, root beer floats, and coleslaw that I'm making from scratch." God help us! I say, "Yum. Root beer floats are sick, dude!"
We're back in the living room less than ten minutes after leaving it with both of us glowing. Yeah, sex will do that for you... get you glowing. Rob plops down in the armchair again and opens his laptop, asking, "So, how was that, Dylan?" I go, "An extraordinary good use of two minutes! Super idea you had there, boss. You are my man, my main man, dude!" He goes, "I'm trying my ass off to keep my boyfriend happy and in the process having a damn good time of it myself!" I mutter, "Trying a tiny bit harder never hurts... just saying," and he chuckles, muttering, "The boy says 'try harder'... it's impossible to please some folks."
My cell phone beeps and I take it out seeing a text from my beloved brother. The text says, 'I'm bored, bro! What'cha doing?' As I go out on the balcony I text back. 'I'm chillin' Chub, having a smoke on the balcony. Got a class at, um, I think it starts at quarter to twelve." I light a cigarette and lean against the railing in the sun. We text back and forth for fifteen minutes. Oh man, he's funny! Chub's one of only a few who can string eight curse words in a row and it still makes sense. He's telling me how much he hates his 'Business Communication' course and the female professor. The female professor was Chub's motivation for the eight inventive curse words in a row. Then he texts about a girl who dumped him and he has a couple of descriptive adjectives for her that made me laugh out loud. I start texting him back about that, but he sends one before I finish. His text reads: 'Gotta go, brother. The class is over. Hey, we gotta do lunch together. I'm out, bro...' What? Was he in class during all our texting? Jesus! Hahaha!
Oh man, I check my cell phone for other texts and see one that Connor sent while I was in the shower. Hmmm, I'm not sure how to respond to Connor's text. He's inviting Rob and me to his apartment for dinner this Saturday. Yeah, that would be cool except for that neanderthal boyfriend of his. Um, what's his name? Oh yeah, Stosh! I text back: 'Thanks for the invite, Connor. Can't do it this Saturday though... but real soon. Love ya, bro!' Oh man, what am I gonna do about Connor? That boyfriend of his just isn't right! Goddammit, I need for Connor and me to meet, just the two of us. And, damn, I know how to do that and it's obvious too! I'll meet him on campus after his last class sometime this week 'cause scary Stosh doesn't go to class. He's not working yet either although he will be in another week; at least that's what I was told.
I send Connor another text: 'What's your class schedule, bro? Can we have a beer one day after class this week?' Yeah, I feel better now. I stare at my cell phone for twenty seconds but he doesn't text back so he's probably in a class now. Haha, not that being in class deters Chubby from texting.
I'm in the texting mood now so I send a text message to Hayden: 'Have you been back to that butcher shop for another haircut yet? Miss you, Hayden. Love, Dylan'. And I do miss him although I know Rob doesn't and Danny's said hardly a word about his life-long friend except for having a shit-fit about Hayden getting his hair cut short. I wasn't thrilled about that either. Obviously, both Danny and I would have liked doing Hayden's haircut. Oh jeez, that time Hayden and I were in his bedroom... oh, never mind.
Then I think, 'Fuck, I included 'love' in the text to Hayden.' Gawd, I wish I hadn't done that! He might misinterpret it or something. Jesus, ya gotta think twice before rattling off text messages! That's a good memo for me to remember. I'll include that in my book.
After looking over the railing to be sure no one's under me or walking this way, I flick my cigarette butt expecting it to go way the fuck out... um, but it goes into the railing and it kicks back to bounce off my hip before dropping to the floor still smoldering... fuck! I kick the butt off the balcony and go inside to find Rob getting food from the refrigerator. I'm like, "You're making lunch already? It's only," checking my wristwatch, "Ten-thirty." Rob goes, "I want to make the coleslaw and have that ready. Actually, haha, I'm kinda anxious to get started making lunch for you." I go, "Gee, that's, um...."
I sit at the kitchen bar, asking, "What's your plan?" Rob has a big head of cabbage in one hand and a jar of mayonnaise in the other. He puts them on the counter and says, "I checked out a number of recipes for coleslaw on the Internet. My plan, however, is to ignore those recipes and ask you how to make it. For one thing, we don't have a red onion or a Granny Smith apple which are part of the online recipes. Plus celery, I don't remember your coleslaw ever having celery in it."
I go, "There are exactly sixteen-thousand-and-nine recipes for coleslaw. Mine is number forty-three and you're correct, it has no celery in it, none at all." He slowly shakes his head, mumbling, "Sixteen thousand and nine, huh? Um, are you going to help me or not?" I go, "Yes, I'm going to tell you how I make it and it's very simple." Rob goes, "Good. Go ahead and tell me."
Trying not to grin, I'm like, "Okay. First get out the four-sided box grater." He gives me a 'look' asking, "What the fuck is a... I mean, um, what's a four-sided box grater." Getting up, I go around the kitchen bar into the kitchen and open the cabinet under the stove top. After creating some noise moving metal trays, frying pans, and whatnot around I finally hold up the grater. Rob mutters, "Oh, so that's what that thing is called." I say, "Everybody knows what a box grater is. See the different openings on this grater. They're for fine, medium, and coarse grating," and I point to them.
Rob takes the stainless steel grater from my hand and says, "Oh, those are sharp edges on the openings, huh?" I go, "Yes, it's an excellent torture device too, but for coleslaw, I recommend you use the coarse grating side, which is that one," and I reach over to touch it. Taking a deep breath he nods his head, "Okay, I got it; the coarse side. Now, what do I do?" I say, "Well if you're an especially strong person with extra large hands you could hold that big head of cabbage in one hand and rub it many, many times firmly from top to bottom against those stainless steel edges. Lots of shredded cabbage will accumulate inside the grater." He snorts out a laugh and goes, "You're not gonna make this simple for me, are you?" I yell, "I'm trying to!"
Rob puts the grater on the counter, saying, "What if the chef doesn't have especially large hands and he can't hold a whole head of cabbage to do what you said about moving it from top to bottom?" I'm sitting at the kitchen bar again and spreading my hands, saying, "Well, what would you do?" He shrugs, "Cut the cabbage head in half... maybe." I mutter, "Or quarters would even be better." Nodding his head, muttering "Ballbreaker" under his breath, Rob picks up a paring knife and I go, "No! That knife isn't big enough to cut the cabbage in half. You need a big knife." He drops the paring knife and goes in the drawer where we have knives and other assorted stuff. I mumble, "Of course, if we were rich we'd have a wooden knife block to hold all our knives in. Yes, that'd be a handy thing to have, if we were rich."
Rob ignores my ramblings and pulls out a carving knife and without delay cuts the head of cabbage in half and then goes, "That wasn't as easy as I thought it'd be. This cabbage is tough," and then he cuts the halves in half and looks at me, asking, "Now what?" I say, "What I'd do is begin by shredding one of the quarter pieces using as much of the green part of the cabbage as possible. What I should have said though, and I didn't because I assumed you'd figure this out for yourself, is you only need to cut the one half into quarters and save the other half for another time. That whole head of cabbage will make enough coleslaw for about twenty people and if some of them are small eaters it could serve up to twenty-four people. But, since there's only the two of us for lunch, well..." He goes, "You said quarters," and I go, "Yeah, but I thought you'd know I only meant that figuratively, not literally." He says "I'm giving serious thought to literally cutting you into quarters!" I go, "A temperamental chef already, huh? Yeah, that can happen."
Then I can't help chuckling 'cause I'm having a good time. But enough goofing on Robby. I go around and start shredding one of the quarters to show him what I meant and then stop when it's all white cabbage, saying, "The white cabbage tastes fine but it doesn't look as good as the green part. You taste food first with your eyes, ya know. I'll throw this white part out." Rob's like, "No, you don't eat with your eyes! That would be messy." I go, "Hey, that's what a famous chef said, or maybe it was an artist." Rob frowns, "Um, you seriously throw out that big section of the cabbage? My Mom includes it when we have ham and cabbage." I go, "And that's a fine meal too although not in my top three hundred favorites." Rob goes, "Huh, what?"
Stepping on the pedal of the trash can, the lid pops open and into the trash goes the rest of the cabbage section as I say, "Of course I haven't had your mom's ham and cabbage yet, so..." Rob mutters, "Fuck ham and cabbage, what do I do now?" I'm like, "You can shred the other quarter for practice although we already have more cabbage shredded than we'll need for just the two of us." Robby frowns, muttering, "I'm supposed to be making this fucking coleslaw and you just did it." I say, "No I didn't, go ahead and shred some more cabbage. We'll have it for dinner. A coleslaw dinner." He stars shredding as I mumble, "To be helpful, I'll wrap the other half of the cabbage in Saran Wrap."
Shredding cabbage makes a mess. Yes, the majority of grated cabbages does go inside the box grater, but little particles fly off the grater all over the place as well. Rob grates some of the white cabbage along with the green but when it gets close to his fingers he chucks the last part in the trash, and asks, "What's next?" I say, "This is optional, but for additional color use a potato peeler on a carrot and then grate the carrot using the medium grater. Ya know, add carrot to the slaw. You won't actually taste the carrot but it looks pretty. Same for parsley, and I should probably explain that I don't mean use the potato peeler on the parsley. I mean that the parsley also adds a little extra color to the slaw, um, that you won't taste either." He goes, "You should write a book, but not a cookbook, a wise-ass book. A book on being a wise-ass." I mutter, "I'm just trying to help."
He peels a carrot and grates the peeled carrot and then gets some parsley stalks. I say, "Roll the parsley in a tight little ball and then use the paring knife to cut slivers off the ball." He goes, "Seriously?" I nod my head, "Yes, seriously," and he does it and says, "Wow, little bits of parsley. Cool!" I go over and get a bowl, saying, "Let me show you this trick," and I put the top of the bowl level with the counter and drag the grater over until it's off the counter and over the bowl and all the shredded cabbage and carrot drop into the bowl. Rob goes, "Very neat," and then he looks at all the pieces of cabbage and carrot on the counter, muttering, "Not neat."
I clean the counter while Rob drops in the parsley flakes he just cut and then stirs the ingredients until everything is mixed together very well. It looks perfect. He goes, "Okay, how's it look, Dylan?" I'm like, "It looks perfect, Robert." He mutters, "Stop calling me that, please." I say, "Feel free to call me by my proper name anytime you want. It doesn't offend me." Robby goes, "There is no nickname for 'Dylan" so I'm always calling you by your proper name." I mutter, "Oh, yeah, that's right."
He stirs the coleslaw again, asking, "Do I just add mayonnaise now?" I go, "No-no. That would be a bland coleslaw. We'll make a simple slaw dressing. Get a little bowl and a wire whisk, one of the smaller whisks." He gets those two things and I tell him to put a spoonful of sugar in the small bowl," and he goes, "C'mon, Dylan, stop messing around!" So I put a spoonful of sugar in the bowl, saying, "I'm not messing around. Now please pass me that bottle of red wine vinegar that's in the cabinet behind you." He hands it to me and I pour some of that in; but not too much, and then say, "Now add the mayonnaise, like three tablespoons or maybe more and whisk the hell out of it. That's the dressing; well, with some salt and pepper too, but we'll do that to taste."
After whisking the hell out of the sugar, vinegar, and mayonnaise Rob pours it on top the shredded stuff and I go, "Good. Now mix it really well with the fork, not the whisk." He does that for a bit and then I'm like, "That's plenty good enough, Rob." He nods at me, mumbling, "Piece of cake," and I say, "No, that's a dumb phrase that I've promised myself to never use again and I'm looking for your support in this crusade of mine to eliminate that horrible saying from both our lives." He mumbles, "Whatever," and he tastes a forkful of coleslaw. I'm like, "How's it taste," and Rob goes, "Maybe the best coleslaw I've ever had." I go, "Let me taste," and he scoops out some coleslaw on his fork. I lean over the bar to lip it off the fork. "Mmmm, not bad. Nice job, Rob!" He goes, "I'm exhausted," and he leaves everything on the counter where it is and goes to sit down, saying, "I'll cook our hot dogs in about fifteen minutes."
I'm like, "Wait a fucking minute, buster! While I admit it's a totally different ballgame for professional chefs, and forget about the celebrity chefs, but... and this is a big 'but', one of the most important jobs a home cook has is cleaning up after himself. I'll do it for you this time because I can see making the coleslaw took a lot out of you." Rob goes, "Heh heh heh, very funny. I'm gonna clean that up. Hey, really Dylan, leave it for me. I'm just checking online how to cook hot dogs." Checking how to cook hot dogs? Jeezuss!
Well, I do want to encourage this cooking trend of Rob's, so I mutter, "Okay, whatever you say, Rob." Yeah, maybe by this time next semester I'll be out of the picture as far as cooking goes, and Rob will be doing ALL the food preparation. That happened with my barbering career. I was the only 'kid' barber in Framingham and now I'm on the outside of the barbershop looking in at all the new barbers, metaphorically speaking. There's an idiom about lightning striking the same place twice that may apply here, but I'm off all idiotic sayings so I won't use it.
Leaving the used bowls, the utensils, the jar of mayonnaise, and everything else where they are on the counter, I start to walk away... but I just can't do it. I at least need to cover the coleslaw with Saran Wrap and put it in the refrigerator, which is what I do as I'm telling Rob, "I'm not cleaning up, Robby, just putting your coleslaw in the refrigerator." He mumbles, "Thanks, babe. I'll be in there cleaning my ass off in two minutes." I shut the refrigerator door while unnecessarily saying, "Warm coleslaw isn't what we're looking for today, right?" Robby mutters, "What?" Hmmm, I don't want to disturb his hunt online for how to cook hot dogs so I go, "Oh, nothing."
Jeez, that was fun and Robby's so fucking cute with this new interest in cooking. He'll be just as conscientious with this as he is with everything else. Oh yeah, when my boyfriend gets his teeth into something look out! Okay, I'll stay out of his way and get my book about General Grant. I can't wait to finally finish the last twenty pages... and good riddance to this book too. My next book is going to be something that doesn't seem so much like school work. Hmmm, where to sit and read? Too chilly outside and Rob's in the only living room armchair.
Remembering Rob and Carl lying on the sofa the other day with a sheet as a temporary slipcover, I go in the bedroom and get one of Rob's blanket-size towels that his Mom buys for him. I only need to cover enough of the sofa for me to sit on so I drop the towel over a third of the sofa as another temporary slipcover. Just right for me.
Sitting on my partial slipcover, I say, "Let's definitely get the sofa's slipcover tonight, Rob." He looks up and goes, "Yeah, okay," and then asks, "Is it worth firing-up the outside grill for the hot dogs?" I shrug, "I wouldn't bother for four hot dogs although hot dogs on the grille are pretty fucking good. There's always a chance of burning them though. You need to be careful and stand right there turning them if you're going to grill them."
A little later he burns all four hot dogs on the grill; almost blackens them. Charred hot dogs with mustard, onion, and relish on a toasted bun are pretty good though. The potato chips are perfectly done. Rob took them from the Lay's Potato Chip bag gently without crunching the chips and the root beer floats are so good we both have two. We do, however, forget to take the coleslaw out of the refrigerator, but we'll have it with dinner.
After lunch we do a little bit of cleaning up in the kitchen and then Rob joins me in the bathroom, both of us taking a root beer piss. While washing my hands and face, I'm like, "That was absolutely a one hundred percent grade 'A' lunch, chef!" Rob goes, "Thanks and I think I may have accidentally discovered something burning those hot dogs. They're great like that." Nice fucking rationalization! I don't say that though. Instead, I don't say anything which always works out well for me and I'm thinking of doing more of it.
As I put toothpaste on my electric toothbrush, I'm like, "So, what are you making for our dinner?" He goes, "Lunches are gonna be my specialty to start, but I'll be making dinner before too long. You'll see. Tonight I plan on watching you make our dinner!" I just nod 'cause my mouth is full of toothpaste. Rob gets his toothbrush, saying, "Seriously, the charred hot dogs were actually better than, um, un-charred ones, doncha think?" Well, let's not get carried away! I interrupt rinsing my mouth out to mutter, "You might be right there, chef." I'm all about encouraging his new interest in cooking.
A little later, with laptops and every other thing we could possibly need in our backpacks, we're in the pickup driving onto the campus. It's eleven-thirty-five so we're in plenty of time for our eleven-forty-five History of Rock and Roll two-hour class. We find seats too close to the front of the sloping lecture hall for my taste but Rob made lunch so I don't make a fuss. I did need to grab his arm and drag him into seats before we get any further down though because he was headed for the front row.
During most of the class, I think about the great morning sex with Robby and then almost laugh out loud going over our fun time, fun for me, in the kitchen with Rob making coleslaw and then both of us forgetting to include it with our much-too-early lunch. God, I like living with Robby! Sometimes he seems helpless with, um, whatever, like cooking while other times he so capable and in-charge and, um, well he's responsible enough for both of us. I just love it!
Glancing at Rob from the corner of my eyes I see him taking notes and looking so handsome and conscientious. He's doing what he's supposed to do unlike more than a few of the hundred and fifty students in this lecture hall who are obviously napping. I'll bet Robby gets the highest grade ever recorded in this course. Dammit though, from where I'm sitting I don't see a single guy worth a second look. Well, most of the students I see are girls. The guys, for the most part, are behind us where I'd prefer sitting.
I hear someone say, "That was actually kinda interesting, huh, Dylan?" There a great deal of rustling noise and I realize I dozed off. The noise I'm hearing is the hundred-and-fifty students standing up and getting their shit together ready to leave. The person who said something about the class being interesting was, of course, Robby. Standing up too fast, I say too loudly, "Yeah, it was." He glances up at that as he's putting stuff in his backpack. Ha, he didn't even realize I took a two-minute nap.
The nap may have been longer than two-minutes actually, and as we exit the building, Rob says, "That was a fast two-hours even without a break. The professor promised we'll have a break every class from now on though." I go, "Yeah, that's very generous of him since it says in the Merrimack handbook that breaks are mandatory for classes over an hour in length." Rob looks at me, "Where's it say that?" I shrug, "It's in there." Or if it's not, it should be!
Outside as I'm lighting a cigarette, Rob mumbles, "I'll bet the fifty-minute class we're going to now will seem longer than that two-hour one we just had." I go, "I'll bet you're right," and burp up a hot dog taste. No, it was mostly the onions I think. Hot dogs for breakfast probably won't catch on.
The fifty-minute Finance class does not move along quickly even though I type a lot of boring notes from the Professor's lecture into my laptop. I took notes because he informed us we need to summarize the key points of his lecture and turn it in next class. What a sneaky fucker that professor is! That's a way to get us paying attention in class. Damn, I've never heard of a more pathetic way for a professor to make students listen to his boring spiel. That should have been a warning in one of the online evaluations of all courses and professors. Somebody dropped the fucking ball with that!
Anyway, that it's for the academic part of college today and now for more of the fun part. Rob's excited, "Practice doesn't start for a half hour or more but I'm gonna head down there now, Dylan. Do you mind taking my backpack?" I'm like, "You don't need to ask me that every day, chef; just assume I'm happy to take it for you." He makes a cute 'face', saying, "Even though you referring to me as 'chef' is insulting because you're being facetious, I love you anyway. And thanks for taking my backpack." We slap hands with me saying, "Have fun at practice, Rob. Text me when it's over and I'll drive down to meet you where we always meet." He smiles, "See ya, Dylan," and off he goes as happy as a... well, fill in whatever idiom you want; I'm done with them.
Oh man, that takes care of day number two, and now there's only 158 to go. I've got my backpack on regularly and Rob's over my left shoulder as I walk toward the parking lot smoking my cigarette. At the pickup, I lean against it and, with my cigarette between my lips and my left eye closed against the smoke that's drifting up, I text Pony. Fuck, I'm uber curious about what happened to him last summer that has him all messed up...
to be continued...
Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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