DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter. 35
by Donny Mumford
As soon as Dodger and I walk in the back door, his mom calls from the family room, "Dodger, please come here for a second, honey. Grandma wants to ask you something." Smirking at Dodger, I'm like, "Heh heh, good luck with that." He grins, handing me his beer bottle, saying, "Nah, they're no problem. I like my grandparents. They're cool." Aw, that's nice! I'm like, "Yeah, ya know I visited them last summer with Robby and your parents. I think they're nice too." Dodger yells, "Coming, Mom..." and I continue heading for the basement stairs.
After putting the Rolling Rock bottles on the ping pong table I consider doing something about my sticky rear-end. It's the lubricant from the condom Dodger used. It's not a crisis by any means but I don't want to take a chance it'll wet through and be a wet spot on my ass. I'm almost positive it won't but glancing over at the washtub in the corner... do I have time and do I dare? Yeah, I'll take the chance. I turn on the spigot and glance back at the steps, then quickly pull my pants down.
Most of the condom's lubricant got scraped off around my anus because Dodger's cock is so fat but I already wiped as much of that off as I could in the pool house using Hand-Wipes. Now the lube from inside my rectum has warmed and leaked out. Not a lot but enough that I'd like to eliminate it which I do using a damp paper towel. Naturally, I'm listening for any sound on the stairs. Not hearing anything, I toss the wet paper towel in the trash and use a fresh one to dry my ass. After pulling my pants up, I wash my hands and, TA DA!... success! Patting my khakis on my ass and, yeah, that feels a lot better!
Jeez, quite the ballsy move on my part, but it was a good bet no one would be visiting down here. Surprisingly I'm feeling pretty good. I mean considering my earlier hangover and whatnot. Yeah, except I wish I could shake this lingering weirdness I'm feeling about what Dodger and I did. It was kinda, um, wrong of us fucking right there in the pool house with his parents and relatives celebrating Thanksgiving in the house. A little voice in my brain is saying it's wrong fucking Dodger anywhere, never mind in the pool house. Yeah, I guess. And I wasn't even horny. Hell, it's Dodger... big deal. Old times with Dodger is all it was.
I don't even wanna think what the fallout would have been if any one of the other ten people here had, for some unimaginable reason, wandered out to the pool house and caught us? Why do I still take chances like that? Dodger's two years younger than me so he still has a lot of that 'don't give a shit' attitude of the young, who all think they're bulletproof anyway. At my advanced years, I should know better! Even so, I gotta say the buddy sex with Dodger did relax the, I don't know what to call it exactly, the uneasiness I was feeling being around him. I'm glad that's behind me even though I never understood what it was about... not really.
Not wanting to think about sex anymore, I think of something entirely different: how happy I am for Mrs. Dickers that her dinner was such a big success. She's a nice person and she put a lot of effort into that. Another positive: my morning hangover is pretty much over with and a third positive thought: Thanksgiving has been a good day so far. Ya know, except for that. Dammit, I want to be better than that. I'm not a kid anymore.
Another thing I need to acknowledge I'm grateful for is my boyfriend. I don't deserve Robby but I'm happy he doesn't know that. Heh heh, on a selfish note, I'm also 'grateful' Rob had someone to watch those baseball videos with. Or, with a Thanksgiving vibe, I suppose I should say I'm 'thankful' that now I won't need to watch them. Hell, Robby and Josh are probably getting their rocks off watching the videos. No, not literally getting their rocks off... not that kind of 'rocks'! 'Figuratively' they're getting their rocks off watching videos of baseball pitching and hitting. We all have different passions; nothing wrong with that.
Oh, I've finished my self-analysis just in time as here comes Dodger. He hops lightly off the last two steps, saying, "Oh man, my grandparents make me laugh. They're so funny blatantly asking me personal fucking questions. No hesitation, they come right out asking me the most embarrassing things," and then he smirks, adding, "Oh, and I didn't know your other name was Daryl." I laugh, "Yeah, that's what they call me." He grabs his bottle of beer off the ping pong table and chugs a few swallows. Holding the bottle up to the light, he says, "Just dregs left in this fucker. I'm getting another beer. How 'bout you?" I shake my head, muttering, "Nah, I'm good," and as he walks over to the basement refrigerator, he goes, "Yeah, I had to hear Grandma tell me how Rob and his 'friend', Daryl, visited them and they wanted to know why I don't visit them, ya know?" I snicker and he chuckles, muttering, "Yeah, go ahead and snicker but you're getting my ass in trouble, bro." I go, "Yeah, I made a big impression on them... they couldn't even remember who I am."
Loud clumping on the steps get Dodger and me looking over and here comes Robby followed silently by Josh. Rob looks tired. Josh tells Dodger and me, "Wow, they do it right over there at Merrimack College. Professional videos with slow motion, stop and reverse. I was impressed."
We don't talk about that too long though. Instead, as we drink a couple of beers we're mostly into some general ball-busting just for shits and giggles but that ends when Mr. Dickers calls down to us, "C'mon upstairs, boys. Spend some time with us old folks." After making 'faces' at each other we go upstairs where Mr. Dickers pats Robby and Dodger on the shoulders, saying, "Your aunt and uncle and grandparents would like to see a little of you two guys," and glancing at Josh and me, he adds, "And your friends, Daryl and Josh." He chuckles at his own joke and pats my back. Mr. Dickers can be a pretty good guy after he's had a couple of cocktails. Not that he's a jerk when he hasn't had a couple; then he's just more businesslike.
So we spend a semi-tedious forty-minutes making small talk with the six adults. Rob and Dodger do ninety percent of the talking, which is only right. Josh and I happily stay out of it, for the most part, speaking only when spoken to directly. Mostly we just nod our heads or smile, whatever seems appropriate to what's being said.
Finally, Aunt Paula and Uncle Richie need to leave to meet their daughter who has a friend in one of the Boston suburbs... a guy friend. Uncle Richie is drunk although no one comments on that, certainly not me. And then shortly after the aunt and uncle leave, there's some yawning from Grandpop and Grandma so they decide to rest for a while, which I assume means take a nap. That's a very good thing too because it means that now Robby and I get to do the same thing without being rude by just getting up and leaving them.
The grandparents wait a few minutes after saying goodbye to Aunt Paula and Uncle Richie, then they go up to their room to nap. After a few more minutes of chit-chatting with Rob's parents, I'm like, "Gee, Rob, we probably could use a little nap ourselves before heading out for another Thanksgiving feast." Mrs. Dickers says, "That's a smart idea, Dylan. I'm sure your mom has gone to a lot of trouble and you boys are looking a bit tired."
My mom is probably not going to a lot of trouble. More likely she's getting in the twins' way as they prepare dinner for tonight. Mom will want to be helpful but she isn't skilled in the culinary arts, not at all. Mr. Dickers yawns now and says, "Hell, everybody needs a nap on Thanksgiving, especially after a wonderful meal like you prepared, Em," and he pats her leg, adding, "And I'm going to do that very thing right after I have another taste of this Cognac."
Yeah, they're both into the after-dinner drinks again. Mrs. D. says, "I'll have another small one too, Robert," and he takes their crystal glasses to the kitchen. What they're drinking is technically a Cognac, but it's better known as an orange-flavored liqueur called Grand Marnier. Rob and I had one after dinner with his parent a month or so ago. Not delicious by a long shot, but not undrinkable either.
In our bedroom, Rob and I take our clothes off and get under the covers but not to mess around. Robby's asleep the second his head hits the pillow. I'm lying here wondering if I should feel guilty about having sex with Rob's brother. Truth is though I can't quite reach full guilt-level. Bad judgment, yeah, definitely! Still, I'm not feeling especially guilty although I don't feel good about it either. I'm pretty sure Robby's not having side sex anymore, but that's strictly his choice and really doesn't have much to do with me having side sex. It's like this... until the two of us change the game known as the 'arrangement', then side-sex is still in play. Damn though, I wish to hell I could stop fixating on it. And then, just before I fall asleep I remember to set an alarm on my cell phone.
At six-thirty, the cell phone alarm beeps me awake and I know right away we're not going to get to my family's festivities by seven o'clock. I'm groggy and still 'full' from the dinner I had at two o'clock, plus my stomach's feeling a little sloshy from the beers I drank. It wasn't a lot... I opened five bottles but only drank about the equivalent of three beers and then, of course, the wine with dinner. So today's booze intake wasn't too bad except I never did totally recover from last night, and I'm feeling kinda beat-up. That's a better way to describe how I fell... I feel beat up. Another shower would surely help and, of course, brushing the hell out of my teeth is the very first thing on my agenda.
As I'm getting out of bed, Robby mumbles, "What's our plan of attack for the rest of the day, babe?" I say, "First thing I'm gonna do is text mom to say we're running late, and then I'm gonna brush my teeth and take a quick shower. That's all the plans I have so far." He's on his stomach with his face partially hidden in the pillow as he mutters, "I'm gonna do whatever you do, um, whenever you're done doing it... whatever it is." Huh, I think he's back to sleep already. I look at him for half a minute but he doesn't move. How the hell can he go to sleep in one second like that?
Walking down the hall, it hits me. Oh fuck, the grandparents are in that guest bedroom right next to the bathroom. Their bedroom door is closed, but oh man what if one of them has an old person emergency of some kind and needs to 'go' immediately and I'm in the bathroom? My next thought is... 'Fuck it, I don't care!'. Nothing I can do about it. I go into the bathroom and close the door. Then, looking at the door for a second, I push in the button on the doorknob to lock it, and then jiggle the knob to make sure it's locked.
Without giving the grandparents another thought, I do what I need to bathroom-wise, which starts with another long piss and ends with me drying myself after the shower. I am feeling better now too. The shower perked me up and my mouth feels fresh after brushing my teeth. Not wanting to put my previously worn underpants back on, I wrap the towel around my waist, unlock the door and then snicker to myself. Before opening the door, haha, I can't help picturing one of Rob's grandparents standing right outside the door waiting to get in here. Probably going from one foot to the other needing to take a shit so bad they're tasting it. That visual makes me chuckle out loud and then I feel bad for thinking that. I'm terrible!
Still snickering 'cause I can't help myself, I open the door and, of course, there's no one waiting. In the bedroom I see Robby standing at the desk putting the videos he brought home with him back in a satchel. He turns his head, saying, "That Josh guy knows his stuff about pitching. What'd you think of him, babe?" Dropping the towel, I get clean jockey shorts from a bureau drawer and say, "He's okay I guess. I mean, he seems like a good guy, don't ya think?" Robby nods his head, "Yeah, I like him," and that's all we have to say about Josh.
And that's a good thing although I can't believe Dodger would care if Robby knew he and Josh we're sex buddies. Dodger said he 'kind of loves' Josh or words to that effect, but he could have meant something other than 'being in love'. I wish the best for Dodger but after today I'm rethinking our buddy- sex status. He appears to more or less still be that person I knew as a boy, but I don't like this feeling we did something we shouldn't have. Maybe it's that I no longer know him well enough for us to be buddies. We used to be, but... ah, I don't know what I mean. Dodger's got his steady 'squeeze' now and Josh seems to be a fine boyfriend so I'm going to leave it at that.
As Rob gets clean shorts to take with him to the bathroom, I fill him in on my idea of us staying at mom's condo tonight. He likes that idea! Nodding his head, he goes, "Great idea, Dylan! Let's pack some stuff to take with us." and we both but some toiletry articles, underwear, sweatpants, sweatshirts, and sneakers and socks, and crap like that in the same satchel. Then we squeeze in my laptop. One laptop is enough, Robby can use mine if he needs to, and he probably will because he'll want to text guys about playing football tomorrow.
Finished with that, Robby goes to take his shower. I'm feeling okay except, and I don't know why this is but I always find something to worry about. My latest worry is I sensed something's in the air with Robby. Something wasn't right with him. I'm getting some weird vibes or something. Why is that? No way he could know about Dodger and me. No, it's more likely the weird 'vibes' are my own.
Wearing only underpants I get Rob's travel iron from the closet. Then, using the bed as an ironing board, I iron the clothes I wore earlier today. As I'm doing that I'm looking for stains, food stains or the other kind, but don't see any. So that's good! Yeah, this so-called travel iron most definitely is not the greatest iron I ever used but it works. Huh, my clothes do look better when I'm done. Well, since I've got the time, what the hell, I iron Rob's khakis and his dress shirt too. All these clothes are supposed to be wrinkle-free, meaning they don't need ironing. Haha to that! I think what wrinkle-free really means is they're wrinkle-free if you don't care about wearing clothes with wrinkles.
Getting dressed and then fussing with my hair for ten seconds I'm thinking how Dodger and Josh both told me they liked my haircut. They seemed super-sincere too! Huh, I'll be damned... Danny was right I guess. Oh yeah, I wonder if Danny told his mom he's gay and, if he did, how she took the news. It'd be terrible if that ruins their Thanksgiving! Oh balls, and I was the one who encouraged Danny to tell her. Ya see how I can find things to worry about!
Yeah, but Mrs. Monday seems very nice and I can't believe she'd be anything but supportive of Danny. I've never understood how anyone can hold it against their child for being gay! I mean it's not like the kid woke up one morning and make the decision he'd be gay. Okay, maybe the parents are disappointed for their own selfish reasons, wanting grandchildren for example, or whatever. Gays can adopt children. Or maybe a parent might be concerned their child being gay will result in a more difficult life for him, or some legitimate concerns along those lines... but to not be supportive, to not give the child parental approval and love! I can't understand that bullshit at all.
Robby comes in the bedroom, asking, "What's wrong, Dylan? You looked upset." I go, "Oh, no, nothing like that. Nothing I can do anything about anyway," and I tell him about Danny maybe or maybe not telling his mom he's gay and how I was just thinking about it... kinda worrying about it. Rob's putting on clean socks, saying, "Well, whatever you do, don't text him! Ya never know about things like that, and it is Thanksgiving." What? Robby never says obvious shit like that. It kinda pisses me off he felt he needed to say that so I emphatically go, "Well, aren't you the champion of the obvious. I wasn't going to text him! Anyway, we'll find out tomorrow if he plays football with us." Rob goes, "Sorry, oh, I didn't tell you, did I?" I go, "Oh no, what didn't you tell me?" and he says, "We don't need to work tomorrow." I'm like, "Well for chrissakes, Rob, that's what I thought in the first place, and then just now I thought you were going to say we did."
Dressed now, Robby goes, "Well excuse me," and then he holds his arm out looking at his shirtsleeve, and goes, "Hey, did you iron my clothes?" I nod and he comes over to give me a hug, saying, "Thank you. I love you, Dylan... you know that right?" Shrugging, I mumble, "Sure. Um, but I hope you're still telling me that when I'm home all day cleaning the house, cooking, and ironing for you after we're married." He goes, "Fuck that, baby! We'll hire a maid," and then without hesitating, he asks, "Oh, by the way, did you and Dodger, um, do it in the pool house when Josh and I were watching videos...?" What? Where the fuck did that come from?
Caught totally off guard, I'm like, "What, huh?" He asks, "Did you?" I do an elaborate shrug as I'm muttering, "What a fucked-up question." Rob calmly says, "No, it's just a regular question, babe. Did you guys fuck?" Snorting out a chuckle as if what's the big deal, I then mutter, "You're serious? Oh, well, it was no big deal if that's what you mean. C'mon, it was just for old time sake... it wasn't anything, um..." Robby lets go of me and goes, "Oh? No big deal, huh? Okay, that's alright then. For old time sake, you say? In that case, we'll forget about it, but Dylan, never do that again with Dodger... ever."
Fuck, I could mention our arrangement that he's apparently completely forgotten about, but instead, I mutter, "I don't know why... um, it wasn't anything." He hugs me and says, "Sure. Listen to me, Dylan. I've never been more serious about anything before in my life. I need you to promise me you won't have sex with Dodger again." I frown, "You need me to promise? I mean, what's that? I need to promise about shit now?" He rubs my shoulder, quietly saying, "Yes, I need you to promise me." I shrug away from his hand, muttering, "I'm not your son. Don't talk to me like I'm ten years old, okay?" He quietly says, "Dylan?" putting some emphasis behind it and I go, "Yeah, alright already." Holding me in his arms again, my body stiff as a board, he asks, "Was that a promise?" I go, "For Christs sakes, yes, I promise."
Letting go of me, he says, "I'm sorry this upsets you. You are I are supposedly getting married, Dylan, and somehow I can't, um, I won't allow you and Dodger to have sex. I thought I could wait until we actually were married before mentioning this but, where my brother's concerned, I can't. I don't want you two having sex and I'm sorry if you think it's unfair, I mean as far as our 'arrangement' goes." I'm looking away, looking in the mirror and fucking with my hair again. Fuck, I feel humiliated. That's wasn't right of him, humiliating me like that. I know... I'm acting as though I'm the victim here.
Robby's quiet for a second and then he says, "It's mostly a brothers thing, Dylan. You're mine, um, well I don't mean you're mine like I own you... but you're not his. Ya know...?" I turn to look at him with a scowl on my face, and he says, "Be mad at me if you must, but just don't do it again, that's all. Um, please." I make another face, muttering, "I already fucking said I wouldn't. Do you need me to write it on a blackboard fifty times."?
See... he feels he needs to explain himself further, "Dylan, I wanna be true to our thing, our childhood arrangement, but it can't include my brother anymore! Not when you and I are this close to being married... one semester away. Or sometime next summer anyway, whenever you say. Ya know, baby, it's one thing if you feel you still must do your buddy sex thing with Danny and that Pony kid who, by the way, follows you around like a puppy dog. Those guys I can tolerate, but not my brother. Can't you see how he's different?"
Controlling my temper because I guess in some ways he's partially right, I go, "Yeah, yeah... how many times are you gonna say the same thing? Fuck, ya don't need to beat a dead horse over it. And what about Carl following you around like a puppy?" Rob's startled, saying, "Carl? He and I hardly touch, never mind have sex. You know that! Do you mean me putting my arm on his shoulder? I'm just bonding with him... mentor and mentee, or some such crap. I'm doing my fucking job!" I go, "Please, with that job bullshit!" and he adds, "What the hell are you talking about? He asked you to break his cherry, or whatever... not me! Um, have you, by the way?" I wave a hand at him, "No, of course not! When would I have had the chance? He just told me Saturday." Robby goes, "Whatever. I don't care about any of that anyway." I mutter, "Good," and he says, "And just so you know, I'm gonna tell Dodger the same thing I told you." I make an exasperated sound and Robby says, "And now I'm done talking about it forever... and I'm very sorry to have upset you. I love you and I thank you for agreeing with me on this. Thank you for promising me."
I'm still at the mirror fussing with my hair although there's no reason to. Silence in the bedroom for a few too many seconds, so I mutter, "Christ, you didn't need to go into some huge lecture. I'm not stupid... I got it the first time!" He walks up behind me and puts his arms around me and then looks at our reflection from the mirror for a second, and then murmurs, "Why do you keep fussing with your hair? It looks good the way it is, babe," and he kisses the side of my neck and then looks at our reflection again, and asks, "Is that the expression you're thinking about showing at your family's Thanksgiving dinner? It's cute like all your expressions, but they might misinterpret it as you being pissed off at something." I lean back against him, sighing and mumbling, "I'm not pissed off," and then I do a big fake smile. Robby goes, "Perfect! You look just like The Joker in that old Batman movie."
I stop screwing around and look into Robby's eyes from our mirror reflection. He looks back and then murmurs, "What?" and I mumble, "I'm sorry. No more screwing with your brother, I promise." He kisses my neck again and says, "Thank you and, oh God, you smell good! I'm so glad you washed off that aftershave lotion from this morning." Turning around, I hug him and we kiss and then he goes, "Are we ready for another Thanksgiving dinner?" I go, "We better be. When we get there I'm having a big mixed drink with lots of liquor in it." Rob squeezes my shoulders... and then he gets us walking downstairs with him carrying our satchel.
Clumping downstairs next to me he gives the back of my neck a little squeeze, asking, "We good, baby?" I nod my head, my face feeling hot. Fuck, did I get my ass handed to me, or what? Goddammit, I knew Dodger and I shouldn't have done that; not here... not on Thanksgiving. I mumble, "Yes, Robby, we're better than good, and I love you too." He murmurs, "I know you do, baby." He's my man, and that's that. I started this 'my man' shit so I guess I better get used to living it.
Rob's parents are still drinking their Grand Marnier after-dinner cocktails. Ha, I'm guessing Robby didn't get his low tolerance for booze from either of those two. That low-booze-tolerance gene Robby inherited must have skipped a generation. Probably it's from his sweet Grandma who was drinking cranberry juice all day. Robby puts his arm possessively around the back of my waist as we thank both his parents for a great Thanksgiving and then Rob tells them about us sleeping at my condo tonight. He looks at me while giving my side a squeeze, as he tells them, "It was Dylan's great idea. And, ya know, his mom's condo is only a ten-minute drive from the twin's condos, right babe?" I nod, mumbling, "Uh huh." They both think that's a wise move. And probably when the grandparents learn of it they'll think it's a wise move too... bathroom-wise.
We're quiet in the pickup as Rob drives us to my family's Thanksgiving dinner. Even though I normally don't like being silent when it's just me and one other person, after all our years together I'm usually comfortable being silent with Robby... him and Chubby. Even when it's just my mom and me I prefer if one of us is talking. That's unless we're both reading or watching TV... something like that. Yeah, I'm perfectly fine with being quiet when I'm with Robby and I have been since the beginning of the summer. We've gotten so tight since I moved in with him and his parents. I mean, we were lovers for years so we were tight then too, but the past five months we've grown together in special ways other than just the sex we've always shared together. Us living at college is different than living together in his house. I mean I'm basically making his bedroom 'our' bedroom filled with 'our' stuff on a completely equal basis and Rob's fine with that. He never once has said anything like 'This is my house so you've gotta do this or that...'. There was never a hint of any bullshit like that. The thought would never enter his mind, frankly. That's not how Rob is.
So, yeah, we've become really tight but, obviously, in the situation we just had Rob exerted what he felt, was his prerogative. I suppose he felt it was since he's 'the man', the one of us who ultimately has the final 'word' on things. There's no other conclusion I can reach. I suppose I agreed to that sometime in the past. It's hard to remember everything I've agreed to over the years. Yeah, never mind that it's not something that's chiseled in stone. No matter though, I'm done thinking about it...
Huh, this was the first time Rob's resorted to using his 'final word' prerogative and we both knew, and I mean knew without a doubt that he was dead serious. It's unclear what would be the consequences for me if I disobey him. What's he gonna do about it? It feels so weird to put the words 'disobey him' in a sentence about Robby. Well, my musings about this situation aren't helping, so I'm done thinking about it.
And, Christ, I guess there's ultimate irony that it was me who had to talk Robby into even pretending to be in-charge... that Robby to be the 'man'. He's never been comfortable or successful in that role. Not the few times he tried it on, so to speak. I knew he had it in him so I continued encouraging him.
Robby came right out and almost said he didn't mind if Dodger and I had some buddy sex. Yeah, he absolutely, um, sort of told me that in so many words. Sure, it was over two years ago, just before Dodger was going away for basic training in the Army, but Rob's never said anything different since then. What, am I supposed to read his mind now? Is that it?
And then there's our solid 'arrangement' too. I mean, what about that? I basically have a right to be pissed off because he's never changed anything about me screwing around with Dodger, not until fifteen minutes ago. Even though I have every right to be pissed off, I'm actually not because I can see how Rob might have thought it was okay for him to just change our arrangement unilaterally even though that was never part of our original agreement... I probably mentioned that already.
One last point and I'm dropping this from my mind forever! I could have brought up all of these things in my defense, but I magnanimously didn't do it. Yep, I could have mentioned some shit if I wanted to! I could have made a damn good case about the unfairness of, ya know, without prior notice Rob changing shit and then yelling his ass off when I didn't even know about it. Well, okay, to be fair he didn't actually yell although it sounded like yelling to me. I was technically innocent of any wrongdoing so I was like... what the fuck?
The thing is, I can't get past the fact that in my heart I know there's something morally wrong with me having sex with Rob's brother this late in the game. He's going to be family, or I'm going to be family... we're all going to be family. I talk about Robby beating a dead horse... but c'mon Dylan, what the fuck have you been doing this whole drive to your family's Thanksgiving dinner? Stop the useless rationalizing!
Looking over at Rob driving, he seems fine... he seems normal. We're both fine. I can't blame Dodger because he asked me if I was okay with me and I said 'yes' even though I was thinking at the time we shouldn't do it. I definitely had reservations about us doing it and if only I followed my brain instead of my dick! Oh man, it would have been awesome if I could have told Robby... 'What? Fucking with your brother? NO! I didn't do that. What kind of person do you think I am?' Yeah, that truly would have been awesome! Right back in Robby's face. And, what would he have said then, huh? He'd need to apologize his ass off for even thinking I'd do that! Oh, God, how pathetic of me to go on with one of those... woulda, shoulda, coulda horseshit routines.
Glancing over at Rob again, seeing him concentrating on his driving. He's so conscientious about every-fucking-thing. I want to be indignant about him scolding me like that, but I'm giving it up because I can't work up any legitimate indignation. Not to mention there wasn't any 'scolding' per se in the first place. And fuck, heh heh, obviously he's mostly right. Yeah, but I'm a little bit right too by shakily falling back on our arrangement thingie. Shaky grounds because there are common sense boundaries even with an 'arrangement' like ours.
Robby must sense I'm staring at him because he turns his head to smile at me and then pats my leg affectionately, saying, "I'm still feeling stuffed from dinner, babe. How the hell are we gonna eat another dinner?" See... he's not even thinking about the 'talk'. It's over in his mind and he's moved on while I've been doing nothing except thinking about it. Yeah, because I'm wrong and pathetically trying to convince myself there are extenuating circumstances that justify what I did when in fact there are no good ones.
I go, "Nah, we'll be hungry enough to eat by the time dinner is served. The twins probably won't even have the meal on the table for another hour or two. They eat late." He nods, mumbling, "You're right, yeah," and I'm like, "Um, you wanna get drunk tonight?" He goes, "Nope. I'm wanna be sober so I can make love to my boyfriend tonight." I go, "Oh."
Another reason I can't work up any indignation is I'm presently admiring the shit out of Robby, and he's so sexy looking too. Also, he handled that, um, thing about Dodger, when ya get right down to it, in a nice manner. There was no yelling or screaming or threats. He was calm and caring and loving, but firm too. That's the best part; the part I admire... he was firm. It was Rob showing some kind of leadership shit, ya know? Firm leadership and, fuck, I'm surprised I didn't get a hard-on halfway through being told what I can't do. Jesus, that was sexy dominance right there by my boyfriend. If I was younger, oh man, that would have turned me on!
Maybe I should be more like I envision Josh being with Dodger. You know, be ready to ask 'How high' whenever Robby says 'Jump!'. Nah, that would scare Robby if I was ever like that. Fuck, here's another thought: how long before Robby feels it's his prerogative to lay down another new 'law'? You know what though... Rob's mind doesn't work that way. He doesn't think in terms of prerogative, or lay down the 'law', or being the boss, or being dominant. He doesn't think about any of the shit I've been thinking about. My musings would be so foreign to Robby it's not even funny. He'd be like, what the...?
And how the fuck did he even know about Dodger and me screwing? Oh Christ, what am I saying? Robby knows me and he knows his brother, what else need be said? He knew we'd probably fuck when he went to our bedroom to look at those baseball videos and was hurt. Hurt that Dodger and I did that to him. Damn, I didn't think of that angle until now. He was hurt but he didn't let it show during his talk.
Man, this blows... I blow! During his 'talk' there were no dramatics, no drama about how disrespected he felt or how it broke his heart that his brother and I do something like that to him... there was no blah, blah, blah at all. Robby merely said what he had to say and he said it straight out in a calm manner and then asked me 'please' to promise no mas... that's Spanish for 'no more'. Everyone isn't bilingual.
Yeah, I'd need to be a ginormous asshole not to have said what I said, which was basically I'm sorry and I won't do it again. And then Rob said he'll never speak of it again. How much more reasonable could he have been about it? And fuck our arrangement! Robby deserves better than my loose interpretation of our arrangement. I'm happy to agree with his Dodger ban... that's the least I can do for him. After saying all that, I'm glad he didn't include anyone else in his proclamation! Anyway, my musings took me full circle from Rob 'had no right' all the way around to the correct conclusion... I suck for hurting him. My musings weren't a total waste of time after all because they helped me see the light.
At the twins' condo complex, Robby drives the pickup into one of the "guest' parking spots close to Tom's building, and says, "You've been unusually quiet, Dylan. I hope you're not too upset about what we discussed earlier." I go, "No, not at all. I haven't given it a thought. You are right and that's that." He asks, "We're good, right?" I nod, "Yeah, sure. It was irresponsible and stupid of me to put in jeopardy what you and I have together." Looking at him now, I go, "I love you and I want all your plans for us to come true." He smiles, "Ya know, Dylan, you're really the nicest person I know." As we're getting out of the pickup, I mumble, "No, I'm not. I'm not as nice as you think I am, Robby, but I wish I was."
As we walk toward Tom's condo Robby puts his arm across my shoulders and I lean against him and put my arm around the back of his waist feeling my eyes get wet. Goddammit, not again. I'm too fucking emotional. He stops and asks, "Which entrance do we go in, babe? I forget. There are four doors..."
I'm choking up a little because something important happened back home in our bedroom; something that needed to happen and I know there's more to come... and I'm happy there is too. I only hope it doesn't come too quickly. I'm getting ready to be exclusively 'us two', but I'm not ready yet. Robby will know that because he knows me better than anybody.
I haven't answered him about what door we go in so Rob moves his head over to look at me and sees a tear that I'm trying to wipe off my cheek with the palm of my hand. He pulls me into a full frontal hug and we hug tightly. Rob doesn't say anything and, fuck, I feel so stupid him showing me love is making more tears to run out of my eyes. Why does everything have to happen to me? I wipe my tears on the shoulder of Rob's jacket as he rubs my back and we stand here for a minute like this without saying anything. When I'm composed, I say, "Every condo has a private entrance. Tom's is the door on the end. He has an end condo." Robby says, "Oh, okay. Let's go," and, with his arm across my shoulders again, and my arm around the back of his waist, we start walking toward the door on the end.
Chubby answers the door. CHUBBY answers the door? Omigod, if Chubby's here, how late are we? Well, forget that. After being down on myself the last twenty minutes and now seeing that smile of Chubby's, the one he always has for me, plus his enthusiastic hug that lifts me off my feet for a second and then his brotherly kiss... well, I feel better already. I couldn't be such a horrid person if I'm getting a reception like this from my brother, someone who has known me longer and better than anyone else on earth. I'm fighting back more tears as Chubby's saying 'hi' to Rob and now the moms are here treating me like a celebrity of sorts. They're so glad to see me, both moms! We've always referred to them as, 'the' moms, Chubby and I have. That's because it's as if we've always had two and, yeah, one is a little more special although the other one is pretty special too.
Timmy and Tom give me big bro-hugs and then Tom takes my jacket while I watch Rob getting the hugging and kissing treatment from the moms. He's smiling while standing there accepting 'it' like a good soldier... he's such a good guy! Then Tom's taking Robby's jacket, and yeah, Robby and I have the exact same jackets. I know, aww... that too cute for words. Rob brought both of us beautiful soft leather jackets as Christmas gifts even though we agreed not to spend much money on gifts. The jackets have a zip-in lining that makes them very warm even though they're lightweight... jackets that reach only to our waists. Last winter Rob wrapped a long scarf around his neck that hung down below the jacket. Oh, fuck, did he ever look like a cool hot-shit with that scarf!
There's been a lot of chatter during our greeting with all of us standing around the front door. The spoken words all blend together as I'm kinda forgiving myself for some of my recent thoughts and deeds, giving myself a break. Tim and Tom's parents are here, both holding dark-colored cocktails and standing at the edge of the commotion, clearly not as invested in greeting Rob and me as the others. Haha, why would they be? I reach my hand over to shake hands with them... they both sort of touch my hand at the same time, as the mother says, "You're late. What does your generation call it... being fashionably late, is that it?" She said that with a nice smile though, trying to relate I suppose. I say, "It nice to see you both but I don't think my generation can take credit for the 'fashionably late' excuse. You both look great by the way." The fictional brown-nosing class Rob tells people I'm taking as an elective comes in handy at times like this.
The twins' parents are ten or twelve years older than Robby's parents, chronologically, but if I recall from the Fourth of July party they're much older than that many other ways besides chronological. Plus, they're from the Midwest and I don't think they're especially thrilled with us east coast people. I'm not thrilled with all of us either. The father takes a gulp of his cocktail and says, "We do not look great, young man, but you certainly do." Tim comes over, saying, "Dylan, I meant to tell you, dude, I like your latest haircut," and then to his parents, "Mom and Dad, we're all going back to the family room and enjoy the fire Tom's started in the fireplace. Can I refresh your drinks?" He pats my shoulder sort of giving me the okay to slip away, which I do.
As everyone heads back to the family room, Chubby grabs my arm, saying, "C'mere, bro, I want you to taste something I'm working on in the kitchen." I go with him as I motion to Robby. He says something to Chubby's mom, Tris, and nods at me acknowledging he sees where Chub and I are going
In the kitchen, Chubby tells me, "I've been fucking around trying to duplicate our favorite cocktail from Wildwood. You be the judge." I'm like, "You mean the whiskey sours at Brush's restaurant?" He goes, "Yeah, that's the one I always think about whenever I think about drinking booze at the shore." I go, "Do you think about that a lot?" He laughs, "No! haha, when I do though, ya know, it's Bush's whiskey sours." I go, "You won't effin' believe me, but I swear to God I was thinking about the whiskey sours at Bush's earlier today." He goes, "Christ, you're a cute motherfucker when you lie!" I go, "No, seriously, I was thinking about them!"
The kitchen smells awesome of roasting turkey, and something else. I go, "It smells good in here," and Chubby says, "The twins are having turkey and a big-ass roast goose. It helps to have two ovens, huh?" Yeah, both twins have gourmet kitchens in their condos. Being rich is nice. I mean, I'm assuming it is since I myself have never tried being rich... yet.
Robby comes in smiling and asking, "What are you guys up to?" Chubby goes, "You gotta try this, Rob," and he turns on a blender filled with a pale orange liquid... whiskey sours obviously. Rob stands next to me with his hand lightly squeezing the back of my neck. I'm not sure he knows he's even doing it. The last couple of months Robby's developed a habit of touching some part of me all the time, connecting us together I guess. Maybe he subconsciously picked up the habit from Danny, who does the same thing... not only to me, to everybody. I like it myself 'cause I like being touched by certain select individuals. Turning my head I grin at Robby and he squeezes my neck again and rubs the back of my head as Chubby's telling us, "I've tried two earlier versions, but I'm thinking this one should be sick!"
All over the granite countertop are half rinds of lemons and oranges leftover after the juice has been extracted. Also, a lot of whole oranges and lemons have rolled haphazardly here and there. Ones that Chubby hasn't tackled yet. I say they're all over but there's a lot of granite countertops in here and I'm guessing Tom set Chubby up at this smaller counter because it's close to the sink and the garbage disposal. It's also separated from the main countertops where the prep work for dinner items has obviously been done. Tom's probably hoping it'll keep the disaster area he expects Chub will make confined to this one counter. From the looks of things, he was smart to think of that.
Chubby's his usual excited self, saying, "I was waiting for you guys to get here before trying this third batch." Turning on the blender he loudly says, "I'm getting hammered testing all these different attempts to match Bush's cocktail." Shouting over the blender noise, I ask, "What's in that pitcher there next to the blender? The clear liquid." Chubby nods, "Oh yeah, Tom showed me how to make a simple syrup and that's what's in the pitcher. Simple syrup is kind of an important component in the perfect whiskey sour." I go, "Oh," and he says, "I didn't know that, did you, bro?" I shake my head and Rob asks, "What's simple syrup?" Good question!
Chubby turns off the blender, and says, "Simple syrup is simple to make. Equal parts sugar and water dissolved over heat and then cooled down. After Tom told me how to do it, I made a batch and put it in the freezer for a while to cool it down." I go, "What the hell time did you get here?" He looks at me like I just asked an insane question, and then says, "Seven o'clock, like you told me." As if he's ever been anywhere on-time before in his life! I go, "Oh, uh huh, of course."
There's a lot of ice in the blender along with, I guess, fresh orange and lemon juice plus simple syrup and whiskey. Chub turns the blender on again and I shouting over the racket, "Um, how much whiskey did you use Chub?" The blender is blending stuff that's foaming up now and almost overflowing the top. Chubby's holding the top on with a dishrag under his hand. He yells, "The perfect amount, Dylan. A shot and a half for each cocktail. You won't even taste it. Tom gave me a bottle of Crown Royal to use, and that shit is a step up the quality ladder from VO."
He turns off the blender and pours the very cold frothy pale-orange mixture into three low cocktail glasses. The glasses are heavy and have like one inch of glass at the bottom. Chub goes, "Let's give 'em a try boys," and the three of us pick up our glass and take a swig. I go, "Holy shit! You did it, Chub! This is Bush's whiskey sour to a tee."
All three of us have pale foamy mustaches as Chubby makes a face, saying, "It's a little too tart. More simple syrup for the next batch, but it's fucking good as it is too!" Robby says, "It's delicious, Jeff," then to me, he asks, "Do you remember if last summer I had one of Bush's whiskey sours?" Shaking my head, I go, "I don't think we ever got over to Sea Isle last summer, but this is it right here. You're having one now," and to Chubby I say, "It's not too tart bro. It's supposed to be a bit, um, sour." Chub goes, "Yeah, but I'll try a little more simple syrup in the next batch just to try it."
We all basically chugged that first round and then Chubby mutters, "Right, we need another," and he adds more simple syrup sweetener and more ice before turning on the blender for the second half of Chub's third try at making the perfect whiskey sour. The glasses are fat and heavy so they only hold about six ounces. That'd be my guess. I tasted the whiskey even less in Chubby's whiskey sours than I did in the ones I had in Wildwood. And that's a good thing! I said to Rob when we got up I wasn't gonna have any hard liquor drinks today or tonight, but 'c'mon, that then and this is now. Oh, plus after our 'talk' I said I was gonna have a lot of whiskey in my drink tonight so I'm covered, prediction-wise. Things change and, anyway, as I said, ya can't even taste the liquor in these drinks. Of course, that could be a bad thing. Ya know, ya can't taste the booze so we drink them like sodas with a false sense of security thinking we're sober and then, bam, ya trip over your own feet.
Chubby says to Robby and me, "See that juice squeezer, guys." Robby and I look over at a smallish machine dripping with orange and lemon juice. I go, "Uh huh," and Chubby goes, "That's a bitch right there, that machine. It gets the juice out really good but it's a real bad-ass at doing its job. The problem is, ya gotta show it's who's boss. It likes to move on the countertop and the halves of lemon tend to slide off and that thing on top turns like a motherfucker grinding into the palm of your hand." I go, "Uh huh, and why are you telling us that, Mister Bartender? You're not thinking we'll try using your juicing machine ourselves, are you?" He grins, muttering, "I was hoping, yeah," and he turns the blender on again. Wow, what a racket!
Tim comes in the kitchen carrying two empty highball glasses, saying loudly over the blender noise, "If they keep up the pace they've been tossing down Old Fashions my folks are gonna need someone to carry them to the dinner table. You boys need to stay strong 'cause Tom and are getting hammered on wine and you'll need to do the heavy lifting if it comes to that." Ignoring that, Chubby says, "Taste this drink, Timmy," and he flicks off the blender. Pouring a few ounces for Tim in a juice glass, Tim drinks it down and says, "Awesome drink for pussies," and Chubby laughs out loud, then mutters, "Yes, Daddy, we'll switch to shots and beers now 'cause we ain't no pussies! And who's calling who a pussy when you're drinking wine?" Tim goes, "Okay, after that smart remark you can't use the car for a week. Chub says to me, "He's practicing being a stepdad." Tim chuckles as he finishes making his parents Old Fashions. Carrying the drinks with him, he goes, "You're more than welcome to join us in the family room guys, whenever you feel like it."
We screw around in the kitchen laughing for a while with Rob and I trying out the juicer machine. Then with fresh whiskey sours, our third, we go into the family room to be sociable with the true adults. Maybe we can pick up some pointers on how to 'do' proper 'adult' behavior. The moms are drinking white wine and the guys are drinking red wine. Tim and Tom would normally be drinking hard liquor cocktails but I'm guessing since they're the chefs they're sticking with wine until they finish cooking. Okay, that's adult pointer number-one right there.
We join the conversation which means... well, what do parents and adults think is a conversation when talking to college students, or any students? It makes no difference if the students are their children or their children's friends, the answer is the same: they ask questions, that's what they think is a conversation with anyone going to school at any level. 'How ya doing at college? meaning what are your grades? and 'What's are you doing for fun?' meaning how much are you drinking and partying?... and related questions of that nature. When we were much younger the so-called adult conversation from family, friends, or relatives always started with the question... 'How old are you now, big guy?' Ya know, us little fellows hold up two or three fingers and say. 'I'm three and a half.' Shit like that. What I'm saying is, it's not conversations, per se. Asking questions substitutes for conversation.
Robby and I give generic responses but Chubby always includes an outlandish story with his responses. He's especially verbose when asked what course is his favorite this year, and the question, what's the social scene like at college nowadays? None of his answers are true but only I know that. Chub gets us all laughing our balls off, so what does it matter if what he says is true or not? After a while, the twins tell stories of their exploits during their college days. They've only been out of college seven years so their experiences are eerily similar to ours.
All this college talk is making me feel bad for my mom and Tris because they never even finished high school. They laugh along with everyone though. The twins' parents occasionally smile as they gulp down their drinks and eat the cold shrimp cocktail their son put out for a snack. Some snack! Someone once told me those earlier generations, generally speaking, drank much more hard liquor than our generation. That's scary to think about. Watching the twin's parents eating the cold shrimp reminds me that I'm getting hungry again so I have a cold shrimp and there's a snap when I bite into it. Nice! And the cocktail sauce is spicy and lemony, so that nice too. Man, there is a difference when food preparers know what they're doing, and the moms' boyfriends know what they're doing in the kitchen!
After one of Tom's college drinking stories, his father goes, "Oh, so that's what we spent two hundred thousand dollars for; so you two nitwits could learn how to drink." Tom and Tim exchange glances and grins as though this isn't the first time they've heard that from their father, who adds, "I could have taught you that for free." The twins laugh it off, and again the moms laugh too.
In an attempt to steer the conversation the moms' way I mention something that happened at Wildwood about eight years ago. A story about how the moms were but that backfires on me because then the moms take turns telling stories about Chubby and me when we were kids. And, holy shit, do they have distorted memories! No good turn goes unpunished apparently... good intentions on my part though.
Chubby and I go along with the distorted tales of us that the moms take turn telling. The twins laugh their asses off because I think they can relate to our situation. And the twins' parents seem to enjoy the stories too, so I feel good for my mom, and Tris too. Chub and I almost get headaches though from rolling our eyes at one another as each story gets more preposterously distorted than the previous one.
Eventually, the twins excuse themselves to finish the dinner and it gets a little awkward with the twins' parents sitting there like statues, maybe not feeling totally comfortable considering the five of us are still basically strangers to them. Ah, but this is where the moms come in. Omigod, they can do small talk to beat the band. They get the twins' parents involved in a discussion about the confusing acceleration of electronics over the last fifteen years. Boring? Of course, but it gets the conversation moving along with Chubby saying things under his breath that only Rob and I can hear so we're busting a gut trying not to laugh out loud while Chubby maintains a straight face. The moms pretty much know what's going on but the twins' parents don't. Chubby is so fucking entertaining it's sick!
Dinner is served and all nine of us sit at a very long table. It's not set up nearly as fancy as Mrs. Dickers' tables, but the food is fancier. There is, of course, a beautiful looking turkey but an even more impressive looking goose. It's a big fucker making me wonder how it could get its tail feathers off the ground and fly with all its weight. Both birds are roasted to perfection and the guys carve both on a buffet table in the dining room while the moms bring in the side dishes. There are the normal Thanksgiving dishes: mashed potatoes and gravy and candied sweet potatoes and sweet baby peas with pearl onions, and stuffing, plus other dishes I don't recognize.
The ones I don't recognize are the gourmet side dishes. One is a pretty bowl of delicate vegetable lasagna that my mom says are filled with small diced eggplant, small diced mushrooms, and small diced yellow squash with grated sweet onion and some spices. Needless to say, as impressive as it looks, I'm not having any of that. There are small butternut squashes drizzled with maple syrup and stuffed with sautéed leeks, browned ground Italian sausage, and wild rice. The sweet butternut squash I might have tried by itself, but not with all that other shit in it. And then the turkey stuffing has small oysters in it that I eat around because other than the gross looking oysters, the stuffing is delicious. The twins carry the platters of turkey and goose around to each of us and we serve ourselves. The rest of the side dishes, whether we want what's in them or not, get passed from one person to the next.
Of course, since it's the polite thing to do and because it's deserved as well, there lots of compliments, especially from the moms, like, "Oh, that looks wonderful, Tom," and "You're both such talented cooks," and so forth. >From the twins' parents, we get "What's that, Timmy?" said in a way as though someone put a cow pie in front of her, and the father's, "Oh, for God sakes, son, I don't want any of whatever that is," and the like. In other words, the twins' parents say what us guys are thinking. Yeah, the very old and the very young are rude... but they can get away with it. Maybe someday the young will acquire a taste for gourmet dishes, there's still a chance they will, like developing a taste for wine. Any chance in that regard past by the older folks some years ago. And I'm pretty sure they couldn't care less. The twins are used to their parents though and they seem to get a kick out of it and seem to enjoy laughing it off.
I stick pretty much with the traditional dishes and they're delicious, but not more so than Mrs. Dickers' conventional side dishes. Both turkeys were moist and tender and the sides I tried were done equally well, which is to say, they're excellent. The twins and moms go in for the more exotic side dishes and everyone except Chubby, Rob, and I drink plenty of wine with dinner. We stick with water. There's an easy conversation with some good laughs all through dinner, but then I expect that because whenever the twins are present thing proceed very comfortably. They're super smooth and cool guys. Funny too, but always nice. They don't go in for sarcasm nearly as much as I'm used to hearing from my peers, and from myself.
It's pumpkin and mincemeat pies from a gourmet bakery for dessert. The twins do not bake... it's good to know one's limitations, ya know? There's espresso as well as regular coffee with the moms and twins drinking the espresso and the regular coffee for the rest of us.
Not knowing what a 'mince' is, I'm not gonna have a piece of that pie. It surprises me I'm having any dessert after the amount of food I've already consumed. The dinner was a deliciously huge success and the guys didn't even break a sweat cooking it. Very impressive! Chubby joins the adults for brandy as an after dinner drink with dessert and coffee. Robby and I decline the brandy politely but get tempted when Tim describes a mixed-brandy drink called a stinger. Omigod, it's brandy and white cream de menthe and I liked the first one Tom made for me so much I had a second one... no, it's not delicious, but very minty. Heh heh, my prediction that we wouldn't have a hard liquor drink tonight was way the fuck off.
After dinner, everyone offers to help clear the table or clean up, or whatever we could do. The twins make a 'face' and laugh, saying, "Nah, we'll stack everything in the kitchen. We've got some help coming in tomorrow morning who will straighten everything out. Don't give it a thought." Tim says, "Let's have another drink around the fire and maybe Tom will put some tunes on his awesome sound system." Tom goes, "It's hardly an awesome system, but I'll get some music playing."
We all go to the family room where Tom not only puts some tunes on but he gets another fire going in the fireplace. Tim, meanwhile, gets everyone another drink and I'm like, "Ya know what, Timmy, I'll have another one of those stingers." He laughs but then says, "From unfortunate and painful personal experiences, Dylan, I've come to the conclusion that two stingers are all any civilized person should have at one sitting. How about a beer instead?" Hard to argue with personal experience so I agree to a Miller Lite.
Chubby, Rob, and I drink beers sitting on the floor watching the fire and listening to what the adults have to say. Those guys, the twins, always have interesting and funny stories to tell. But after a while us three guys want an after dinner cigarette so we get fresh beers, put our coats on and sit outside on the patio.
Tom's high-end patio furniture is super comfortable and if it weren't so cold I could easily fall asleep in the chair I'm sitting on. The conversation is about college life at first. We stick with the funnier side of it with each of us telling stories making ourselves the brunt of the humor. Stories about all kinds of different ways we bungled something during our three-plus years at Merrimack. Things we can all relate to. Weird situations we found ourselves in that make you feel so stupid it makes you wonder, 'why'd I do that?'.
Yeah, some really good laughs for a half hour or so and then we flip coins to see who will go inside to get us three fresh beers. When I'm back with the fresh beers I find Rob's switched into serious mode. He's basically bragging about me to my brother relating highlights of my summer job at Dickers & Son introducing the company's new benefits package to every employee individually. He tells Chub the management group had serious concerns that the new benefits package could blow-up in their face if it wasn't presented in the right way and were therefore astonished Mr. Dickers was allowing a part-time summer college kid to make the presentations. Listening to Rob I discover the package contained a small but significant adjustment in the way employee's pay was computed for purposes of the company's contribution to the retirement plan. The small computing adjustment will save the company millions of dollars over the next twenty years. I didn't know anything about that which, I suppose, was the whole idea of me making the presentations. I'm not sure how I feel about that but Robby's jumping through hoops emphasizing that, overall it's a generous benefits package that compares favorably with any of the top-ranked companies according to Glassdoor's ranking system, and better than the employees' previous benefit package. Whatever 'Glassdoor' is, I couldn't tell you.
Yeah, it pissed me off that I wasn't privy to the retirement plan's minor detail adjustment. Whether it was a brilliant decision by Mr. Dickers to have me make the presentations or a devious one that took advantage of the employees AND my naive understanding of such things I don't know. And, did Robby know about the change that benefited the company and purposely didn't tell me about it? I don't know that either.
Mostly though, it's hard for me not to be flattered hearing Rob relating complimentary comments about how well I did my job. Robby is looking mostly at me when he tells Chub and me, "Dad only told me about most of this the other night. He asked me to keep it to myself," and he turns his head to look at Chubby, adding, "I don't keep secrets from Dylan though," and looking back to me he goes, "This is the first real chance I've had to tell you, babe." I don't know how to respond but my first thought is about how the real nuts and bolts of the business world isn't Disney World and I need to keep that in mind.
Then it's mostly all flattery as Rob's dad told him the management group was ecstatic at the results of the opinion survey that came out after my presentations were completed. I was starting my senior year by then. Mr. Dickers told Rob everyone in the company, and I assume he meant every manager, felt the new benefit program couldn't have been presented any better than I innocently performed that function. I added the 'innocently performed' part. Everyone was congratulating Mr. Dickers' choice of... well, me! I have mixed feelings about all this except I'm glad Chubby's hearing the good parts. He ignores the part about me being duped into thinking I was being honest when telling employees everything about the new program is an upgrade across the board. I related the information I was told to relate, which is the company had merely switched the vendors who are underwriting the benefits package. Chubby's grinning and bumping fists with me, saying, "That's my brother!' as I'm going, 'Stop, Robby, you're embarrassing me."
Then, continuing the serious tone, Chubby tells Rob and me a lot of details about his plans for next year. Wow, I don't believe I've ever heard Chubby speak so seriously about himself before tonight. Usually, he just jokes around claiming anything he excels at is due to a fortuitous set of unlikely circumstances that he had nothing to do with. Sort of like me going on about the genes we have nothing to do with. He may have stolen that from me, now that I think about it.
Anyway, our tongues have been loosened by the alcohol although not in a blathering drunken manner. It's more like when a bunch of college guys, after having had sufficient numbers of beers, talk as if they know about topics like destiny, or the stars, or the likelihood of parallel universe and other subjects that we basically have no business, acumen-wise, discussing although at the time we're wicked serious about it. That's sort of the frame of mind Chubby and Rob are in tonight. After drunken college nights the next morning we're all like... what the fuck...? Haha. But alcohol definitely is a factor tonight.
Anyway, in that general frame of mind, Chubby tells us about long talks he's had with Tim and Tom, who are paying for his Master's Degree so who better to have long talks about it with. He says, "The twins and I looked at a lot of possible universities and the guys, well ya know they don't give a shit which university cost more or less, they mostly wanted me to be comfortable and, heh heh, so did I. They did insist the university have a solid management program and in the end, I simply couldn't commit to an out of state university," and blah, blah, blah... He went on to describe what he felt were good points and bad points about this or that university until Chub's like..."So, finally, the three of us settled on UMass Amherst." The significant part of that decision being... he's staying in Massachusetts for his Master's Degree.
Another ten-minute description by Chubby about the process of applying and so forth while somewhere during his explanation, I slipped into one of my trances listening to Chubby' voice and the serious tone of it. He's saying, "It's in Amherst, Massachusetts in case you didn't know... haha, no shit, huh? No, seriously, Amherst is only about ninety miles from here, give or take a few miles. And that's not so far that I can't get back pretty quick if you need me, Dylan, haha, or more likely I need you!" With Chub speaking to me directly just then broke my pleasant trance and I go, "Good to know Chub. Seriously though, I'm wicked happy for you." Chubby wouldn't go out of state because he didn't want to leave me... that's what I chose to think, but then the things booze can make you believe, ya know?
Chubby's truly excited though and I guess he is going to work for the twin's company. I wasn't sure if Chubby was just going along with them to be polite or if he was actually serious about it. Now I know.
There's a new position in the company Tim and Tom formed six years ago that's projected to be necessary by the expansion model they paid a business consulting company to put together. The business model projected the need to eventually expand their business overseas and they want Chubby to fill the open spot. If compensation was discussed, Chubby doesn't say, so I don't ask. I am wicked curious about that though. I mean, Robby told me how much he expects to start out at... $60,000 plus a bonus the first year, and I wonder if Chubby will make more. It sounds like he will, but then so will Robby two years from now.
People consider money matters kinda personal though, ya know... duh! It's very unlike Chubby to provide too much information about anything but he's legitimately excited about his future telling Rob and me UMass University has 26,000 undergraduates and 6,500 graduate students... the student body is more than six times Merrimack's in other words. He'll be studying for a Master's Degree in management. Well, Business analytics specifically with a minor in marketing. I'm like, "Wow, Chubby, it sounds like some for-real studying is gonna be required. Your playtime here at Merrimack is coming to an end." He nods, "Yes, but it's time I get serious about the rest of my life. I know that doesn't sound like me and is actually pretentious-sounding, but it's also a fact." I go, "Um, uh huh... how many old fashions did you say you had before Rob and I got here?" He chuckles, and says, "You'll see, big brother, I'm smarter than I look." Well, nobody ever said he wasn't smart.
It's all very interesting but when I glance at my boyfriend, who just smiles back at me, I'm so proud that Robby's been planning for our future two years now. Chubby's only recently thought about what he'll do after graduating Merrimack recently with the urging of Timmy and Tom. I know Rob's too modest to say anything to Chubby about how he starting planning a long time ago... he wouldn't want to detract from Chubby's news. Rob's like that.
Jeez, they're both so serious though... maybe I need to get more serious too. Anyway, I'm so proud of Chubby too, not just Rob. It's like Chubby is enthusiastically taking something on that sounds wicked difficult. Master's degrees seem intimidating to me and then to feel the responsibility of filling the job the twins are depending on him to fill... Jesus, the pressure!
And then somehow the serious spell gets broken. I don't know how or why, but it's like the three of us realized at the same time we've slipped into the twilight zone and we quickly begin to break each other's balls about how serious we all were and then a few minutes later we're trying to decide whether to call it a night or get another beer.
In either case, we want to see what the adults are up to. When I get up my foot gets caught and I stumble. Rob's quick as a cat somehow grabbing me around the waist before I trip over a fucking planter. I almost went into a heavy stone planter with a small evergreen tree in it. Yeah, it somehow moved in between me and the sliding glass doors. Robby squeezes around my stomach pulling me back against him, saying, "Whoa, babe! What a dumb-ass spot for a shrub in a tub, huh?" I mutter a curse under my breath but I love how Rob jumped to my aid like that. Very protective of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chubby exchange the slightest head nod with Robby. Huh, in my booze-addled mind, I think... is Chubby officially turning over the responsibility of looking out for me to Robby? Not that I need looking out for, but it's sweet they want to.
Normally though, I'd be shrugging away from Robby as he tries guiding me inside with his arm around the back of my waist, you know, embarrassed I almost fell. Not tonight though because I've been in this silly Rob's my man mindset ever since he basically laid down the law about who I cannot have buddy sex with.
Not just because I almost fell on my ass is it a fifty-fifty proposition whether we call it a night or get another beer before I even got up. When we go inside though we see that the twins' parents have already retired for the night. It's a nice picture with the fires glowing nicely and there's soft music playing, Tom and mom on one love seat, Timmy and Tris on the matching one. The three of us stand here looking at the situation as the four adults look back at us. Chubby goes, "Oh!" as though he's shocked seeing the moms coupled-up with the guys. I glance at a big Grandfather clock and see it's ten-after-eleven. After saying 'oh' Chubby goes, "You think we can't take a hint from this contrived set-up you've got going for you here?" The four grown-ups on the love seats are grinning at us but none of them even pretend to talk us into staying longer... haha! Tim says, "We were hoping by now you children would be tired..." and Tom laughs before, saying, "Ya know, guys, Thanksgiving is officially over... in case ya didn't know." I go, "We can take a hint, even one as subtle as that... right guys?"
After a laugh and some bantering back and forth, we do our due diligence thanking the guys for a truly excellent Thanksgiving feast and then they all get up for hugs and kisses as we all are saying goodnight. Outside walking to our cars Robby saying, "So, Jeff, can you play touch football tomorrow?" Chub nods and says, 'Yeah, I'd love to. Is it okay if I bring my buddy John Beverly?" I make a 'face' as Rob's like, "Of course!" Chubby didn't see me making the 'face' and we do some hugging and then we kiss a brotherly kiss. Chubby pats my shoulder, mumbling, "Text me tomorrow, bro, whether we have the game or not." A minute later Robby's behind the wheel of the pickup and I'm in the passenger seat. He starts the engine saying, "Great day, huh, Dylan." Taking a deep breath, I'm like, "Yes, it was, but I need a vacation to recover from this never ending holiday."
On the way to Mom's Condo, Rob and I talk about the fancy gourmet foods the twins prepared for dinner and then about Chubby's plans for UMass and beyond. We agree we couldn't do what Chubby plans to do. No more schooling for us. Chubby seems sincerely psyched about it though and I've no doubt he'll kick ass too. He's smart and if he applies himself... oh boy! That's the potential the twins see in Chubby. They offered to pay for my Master's Degree too, and they were sincere but not as enthusiastic as they were when offering the same deal to my brother. I don't need or want any more education. I know the twins like me a lot but they see that Chubby as the brother who can get things done. It remains to be seen what 'things', but I assume the twins' business model knows.
At almost eleven-thirty, Rob and I are going in through the garage entrance to the condo. I've got the satchel with our toilet stuff and a change of clothes under my arm as I fumble for the light switch and when the lights come on in the finished basement, Rob says, "Wow, lots of memories in here, huh? Sort of like the pool house, babe?" I go, "Sort of, but the pool house has many more memories for you and me," and we go upstairs, I'm asking, "Are you as tired as I am? It's been a good day, but socializing for like twelve hours is hard work." In the kitchen, Rob pats my shoulder and goes, "Well, we had a nap and I'm actually feeling pretty good," and he pulls me to him for a ten-second sweet kiss after which he murmurs, "I'm proud of you, Dylan... and I love you more every day."
I know his 'proud' reference is because of me acquiescing to his wishes regarding Dodger. Yeah, I could have bitched and so forth but I've gone over that in my mind already and decided I don't have anything to bitch about... not really. And, while I did act like a baby at first, I got over it pretty fast. Rob won't hold any of it against me anyway. I say, "Thanks, although I'm not sure I deserve you being proud of me," and then as I turn on the kitchen lights, Robby asks, "How about if we jump in the shower to revive ourselves." Shrugging, I mutter, "I don't think I'm up for that, Rob." Coming over to me again he takes the satchel I'm still holding, tosses it onto the sofa and then gives me a hug, saying seriously, "Okay, no shower but you and I need to cement our revised, um, arrangement by making love tonight." Yeah, see, I knew he meant 'that' when he said he was proud of me.
Rob won't say 'it' specifically because he told me he'd never mention it again, but I never said I wouldn't mention it. I mumble, "I know you trust me, Rob, I gave my word and..." He murmurs, "And that's good enough for me so I shouldn't have alluded to it. I was trying to be clever and I need to leave being 'clever' to my boyfriend. You're a lot better at that than me." I mutter, "Not really," and he goes, "I love you and I still want to make love to you." I hug him back and grin, mumbling, 'Well, if you put it that way... sure."
Robby hugs me against his chest and sways us side to side to the music Rob's hearing in his head. He's so loving and, Omigod, that 'talk' he gave me comes back to me whether I want it to or not. I'm already embellishing Rob's dominant in-charge 'talk' until it's oozing over my mind with all kinds of sub/dom implications. Well, how else to interpret it other than Robby being dominant when telling me how it's going to be from now on, telling me what I'm not going to be doing. I know... I'm half in the bag so everything seems more meaningful. Still, the 'talk' was like my fantasy dreams from my youth and the sub/dom dynamic was at its soaring heights in my mind and now I can pretend it's here... Robby being gentle but very firm about being in charge.
He goes, "C'mon, let's get ready for bed, babe," and I let him sort of guide me down the hall as he's asking, "How drunk are you anyway? I mean, all those stingers you drank." I go, "I had two stingers so I'm no drunker than you, Robert." He goes, "Oh, good," and we turn into my old bedroom. I glance at my twin bed and see it's exactly as I left it, and why wouldn't it be? The same fresh linens on my intimately small bed. Robby notices me looking at the bed and says, "We had some nice times in that little bed of yours, and I can't wait to make love to you in there tonight, Dylan," and he squeezes me around the waist. I go, "You are a very good boyfriend, Robert." He snickers and mutters, "Oh fuck, you are drunk!" I go, "No, I'm NOT!"
Robby goes, Oops, wait a second," and I watch him go back to get the satchel off the sofa. As he comes back saying to me, "You, get in the bathroom now!" Chuckling, I scamper in the bathroom, and then say, "Hey, you better not be thinking of spanking me because of... you know." Heh heh, actually I'm reminding him he should do that.
Rob doesn't pay any attention though. He follows me into the bathroom and takes our toothbrushes and other toiletry articles from the satchel and then sets them up neatly on the shelf under the mirror over the sink. I'm talking myself into the right frame of mind for some fabulous sub/dom sex tonight. Then, taking my clothes off, I toss them in the corner and stand here naked, saying, "See, Robby, this is the way all bedrooms should be... with a bathroom conveniently right off it."
Robby isn't paying any attention to my random comments and who does that remind me of? Uh oh, Rob just noticed my clothes on the floor. Making a 'face' he mutters, "C'mon, Dylan. Don't leave that shit for your mom to pick up." For a fraction of a second, I get pissed at him for saying that but almost immediately my brain remembers my trend for this night, which is... Robby's the dominant boss. Ooou, yeah I want to keep that theme going tonight, so while picking everything up, I say, "Sorry." I put my clothes in the empty hamper. Robby mumbles, "No problem, babe," and he starts taking a piss, saying, "Freakin' beer, ya know?"
See, he just took for granted I'd pick the clothes up. I store that nugget of him being in-charge in my memory banks to use during my submissive routine during our sub/dom sex tonight. This is gonna be good! As Rob gets undressed, I take my piss wondering why he left his boxer shorts on. Now I feel funny being naked so, finished my pee, I get my jockey shorts from the hamper and put them on before joining Rob at the sink. He didn't notice I did that. I wash my hands and face and then we're both brushing our teeth as I'm keeping my eyes on Rob's reflection from the mirror.
Sure, I can goof around with this sub/dom shit all I want but what I don't need to pretend is this: Robby is a truly sexy/hot, awesome looking guy. The short preppy haircut Danny's been giving Rob is perfect for him. The bangs left long enough for a boyish little pompadour that Danny combs in Rob's hair when he finishes the haircut, and then Rob faithfully recombs it every day. Tonight though his bangs are down on his forehead and instead of preppy he reminds me of the young Robby Dickers with his blond hair disheveled a little bit. He sees me looking at him and his grin completes the cute youthful look as he asks, 'What?" I shake my head and mumble, "Oh, nothing. I'm admiring my boyfriend, that's all." His grin makes me think of the first grin I saw him do over five years ago, back when the world was young.
In the bedroom, I'm walking to the bed conjuring up epic sub/dom sex in my mind when Robby hooks a finger in the back of my jockey shorts' waistband, saying, 'You won't need these tonight. Take 'em off." Ha, I should have left them off but then I wouldn't have heard his bossy order to `take them off'. Oh man, Rob's playing right into my mind-game. Perfect! I go, "Oh, okay," and step out of my underpants and then, being super conscientious, I walk over to the hamper that's just inside the bathroom door and again drop my underpants there. Robby says, "Put these in there too, babe," and he tosses me his boxers. I smile to myself, thinking, 'Ha, you're falling right into my living fantasy, Robert. Keep up the bossy shit.'
Robby gets in my bed under the covers, smiling and saying, "It's a small bed, baby, but super comfortable. Haven't I always told you I love this bed of yours?" I go, "Uh huh," and, oh man, my dick feels heavy as I pull back the covers and slide in next to Rob. And, of course, in this bed, I'd either be right next to him or on the floor.
Rob obligingly bumps against my side, murmuring, "Prepare yourself 'cause I'm going to ravish your body, babe, and you've got no say in the matter." Okay, that's talking the talk but is he gonna back it up? He's getting an arm behind my neck but I'm thinking I'll get things moving a little faster by lifting my right leg and dropping it in between his legs making sure it presses against his cock. He snickers as I squirm in tighter against his side and then lift up on my elbow to look down at him, my leg pressing against his slightly firm cock a little harder, as I mutter, "Maybe we'll ravish each other." He goes, "Oh yeah?" and his biceps flex as he pulls my head down to squish against his face. I'm expecting a lover's kiss but Rob's kiss isn't anything like a slow luscious kiss.
It's a hot and sexy sloppy hungry kiss with his tongue going right in my mouth, our saliva mixing quickly and drooling down my chin as our teeth scrape together. His hand rubs the back of my head and then he uses that hand to hold my face pressed against his while he unexpectedly rolls up on his side and with his weight as leverage he rolls me over onto my back again, him now half on top of me now... he did that all in one motion. He's done that before so it's not like I'm shocked by it. He's simply hornier and more aroused than myself. While I was fucking around with my make-believe sub/dom nonsense Robby's living in the real world.
Christ though, I loved that move he put on me and I'm getting super aroused tasting the mouthwash from Rob's mouth. His lips and tongue stay on mine and then his head moves with his nose rubbing over mine and then he's totally on top of me and I'm trying to catch my breath sucking in air around his mouth with my nose pressed into his cheek so I can't breathe through it. It's deliciously scary how fast everything happened.
Now that Rob's fully on top of me, weighing ten pounds more than me and I'm having trouble inhaling oxygen I get a flash of claustrophobia and start struggling under him. I can't move him off me as Robby puts his legs on either side of mine, his arms holding mine stiffly at my sides all of which is increasing my claustrophobia. There's no way I can get out from under him, his body just stiffens more when I try and his mouth never leaves mine. Two seconds of almost panic and then, recognizing that he's got me in a dominated position for real, to my rescue comes that familiar drifting sense of submissiveness. It slides over my brain and then over my body like a tender hug and I stop struggling completely. I can pretend to myself I'm being submissive when necessary but it's nothing like the real thing. Nothing like what just happened and I'm limply under Robby now feeling goofily submissive and good.
A serene, tranquilness replaces the claustrophobia and there's no need to struggle now. Giving in to Robby and everything is fine. I stop trying to kiss back and let Robby's mouth capture mine entirely. My body language, my everything, tell Rob I'm compliant so he relaxes too. His hips hump against mine a couple of times just because he can. I'm docile as I let out a contented sigh. It's like there are no bones in my body... except that one. I'm completely receptive to whatever he has in mind for our lovemaking, our sex. Yeah, this is what Robby wanted us to do and why would I assume Robby didn't have his own expectations of how we'd make love tonight. I did, so why not him?
Robby stops sucking my mouth and lifts his head to smirk at me, murmuring, "Your body feels even more comfortable than the awesome mattress..." and instead of his sloppy sexy hot and arousing kissing, he does a luscious lover's kiss. It's all happening quickly. Rob's muscles are very relaxed now and his body seems to meld into mine as I'm just now realizing my cock has turned to stone in between our bellies... and so has Rob's.
In a way, he's been in-charge tonight from his 'talk' onward, and it's so much better reveling in this real thing than the made-up version I had in my head. This is legitimately sub/dom sex. Well, no not really. It's not totally legitimate because Rob isn't thinking of it that way. I guess a little imagination on my part is still necessary. He lifts his head a little, breathing right into my face with his moist minty breath making my boner throb. He smiles, saying, "Oh, baby. I love when we work together like this and our lovemaking reaches the stars." Hey, that's one of my lines.
Staring up into his eyes I'm thinking again that Robby's my man. I admire him so much! He says excitedly, "I love when you have that look of desire in your eyes. Well, heh heh, you always have some of that look, but you're glowing with desire tonight," and he lifts off me to sit on my stomach with a knee on either side of me. Still smiling, he takes hold of my wrists and spreads my arms out, adding, "As I said, I'm going to ravish your body tonight." I gulp and try to say something but can't because he has me very aroused and, as I said, I've slipped into one of my sexy submissive trances. Sometimes I don't even realize I'm in one until I need to say something, and can't.
Robby leans his head down and licks across my mouth leaving a lot of spit behind and then he asks, "Haven't you got anything to say for yourself, boyfriend?" I gulp again but I need to say something, so I mutter, "I think I'm going to cum." Oh, fuck! I didn't know I was going to say that, but it turns out it's true. With a big assistance from tonight's alcoholic beverages and Rob's aggressiveness, as well as my mind games, I find myself stupidly on the verge of blowing my load.
He's like, "Are you kidding me?" Shaking my head, I say, "No, give me a second, Robby. I, um... " Holy shit, he has no idea how he, plus my overactive imagination, has me sexually aroused to the point of insanity. I'm turned-on and hot like a young teen getting fucked for the first time by his secret idol who's finally coming across for him. Oh, Christ, more of my overly active imagination right there too. I need to calm the fuck down but I like feeling legitimately submissive to Robby... it doesn't happen that often.
It'd be even hotter and sexier for me if I thought Rob knew I was feeling like I am. Ryan Wilcox and even Willie always knew when I was uber submissive to them. They'd do some harmless torture getting me even deeper into a submissive frame of mind, of course... the pricks.
Ya know, being susceptible to this sort of thing is both a curse as well as the sexiest thing ever to me. Robby asks, "Are you okay now?" Always the sincere and concerned boyfriend. That's so sweet. I go, "Yeah, I think so," and, letting go of my wrists, he slides down to my legs, saying, "Good, I'm glad you're okay but you're still getting no mercy from me tonight. You owe me a fantastic fuck, buster." Buster? Haha, he grins himself at that 'buster' comment. Rob said he's never going to mention the talk ever again but that doesn't mean he's forgotten it. I mean, c'mon, he is human.
Rob's a tad clumsy getting my legs spread but now he's on his knees between them. He's had a lot to drink too, especially considering his low tolerance for booze. Wow, though... it's impressive he has the Astroglide tube in his hand! When did he get that out of the satchel? He asks, "Would you be so kind as to pull your legs back so I can lubricate that cute ass of yours?" I pull my legs back and then put an arm around both legs and spreading them enough so I can watch Robby in between them. He's sitting back on his ankles looking so happy it makes me smile to myself. I'm so fucking lucky he loves me... seriously!
As his finger goes inside my rectum spreading the slipperiness, I sort of sigh luxuriating in this sense of submissiveness to him. It lingers on and feels so good... I can't recall it ever feeling better, not with Robby anyway. I get submissive with most 'tops' but it's strictly a sexual thing with anyone else whereas with Robby there's always love as well. Sex with your true love is simply the best there is, throw in a little dominance like Rob's playfully doing tonight and it's off the charts good. I mean as far as I'm concerned.
He's stroking lubricant on his boner now, his fingers sliding back and forth making a wet slippery sound that's kinda sexy and also not surprising considering the lube is kind of wet and definitely slippery. Done stroking on the lube, Rob goes up on his knees seemingly towering over me, which adds a little to my submissiveness. Also, I'm reminded again what a hot sexy body my boyfriend has.
I'm preparing myself to feel my asshole getting stretched to a ridiculous degree when using the hand with the lubricant on it Rob spanks my ass hard. It's probably an inviting thing to do with me holding my legs back like this. At first, I'm like... oh, another sexy move by my boyfriend and I pull my legs back harder submissively accepting my much-deserved spanking. Rob's hand is making loud, "SMACKSMACKSMACK," sounds colliding with my butt cheeks. It's all I can hear in the room but soon my ass is stinging and I let go of my right leg to cover my right butt cheek. Rob smack my hand but then stops spanking, and says, "The spanking was for your benefit, Dylan, um, mostly yours. I don't normally like doing it but I know you often like a bit of a spanking.' I mutter, "For someone who doesn't go in for this sort of thing, you seemed very invested in it tonight." He nods, smirking and muttering, "Huh, yeah, it's funny how this time I didn't mind doing it all that much."
I'm rubbing my ass, muttering, 'Well, ow! That stung!" He brings his arm back and pretends he going to smack my ass again and I flinch" He snickers. Rob won't talk about it but, as I said, obviously he hasn't forgotten it. Taking my hand away I look at Robby and see a neutral expression on his face now as he looks right at me and then does smacks my ass hard three more times. I go, "Ow, Goddammit," and he says, "That'll do for now."
Always looking for the silver lining I'm thinking my red stinging ass is strengthening this cycle of awesome submissiveness that's tenaciously hanging on in my mind. I couldn't be in a more submissive posture. My legs pulled back with my feet hanging limply, almost touching my butt cheeks and my knees spread apart more than they naturally would be. Christ, my back is curved from the effort of pulling my legs back exposing my ass to my dominant sex partner... and my asshole is a good three inches off the mattress. How much more submissive could I be?
Robby appears quite pleased with my posture as he walks on his knees a couple of inches closer to me, stopping only when the head of his boner hits my left butt cheek. He snorts out a short laugh and then says, "Jeez, maybe I should spank you before we have sex every time. I mean, if you're going to be this cooperative and, oh good, you've still got that fantastic 'look' in your eyes, baby! You make me feel like the world's hottest stud with that look of desire you have. I love that!"
Not wanting to say anything for fear some of this delicious submissive trance will get lost, I simply continue staring into Rob's eyes as if I'm cool, but the coolness factor gets lost when an unintentional and embarrassing whine of arousal slips from my throat giving my arousal away. Robby doesn't even know he's helping me work myself up into this submissive puddle for him. Now I'm fixating on how smooth the pale skin on his face is, especially after he's shaved his skimpy beard. I want to feel his cheek against my face and then I do because he leans over and does a thirty-second gentle kiss and follows that by rubbing the side of his face against mine, murmuring, "I lied... actually, I didn't like spanking you... I hated it! You're too special... and you don't even know it." Then, without needing to touch it 'cause it's sticking straight out, his boner's head hits perfectly against my asshole... bullseye!
He puts a hand on each of my shoulders as his boner's head exerts pressure against my tight asshole. My anus reluctantly and slowly gives way to open a little and then the opening gets a little wider and then wider still until it begins hurting. The hurt gets more noticeable as it opens even wider, and then impossibly wider as I suck on my bottom lip trying not to let my distress show. Robby murmurs, "Sorry, baby, but it'll only hurt for a minute." Easy for him to say, but truthfully it's not a major problem for me. I can't ignore the pain, no, but I can tolerate it. One last bit of pressure proves to be the magic amount this time and that fat hard head of his boner breaks past my sphincter to slide tightly inside my body and I go, "Oooh! Ooow!" while Robby's eyes close as he's making a quite pleasure moan... "Mmmm..."
The pain rolls around my brain with me scrunching my face for a few seconds before the worst of the hurt begins fading... my face relaxes a little. Robby opens his eyes and, grinning at me, he asks, "Okay?" I don't blame him for wanting me to lie to him saying 'I'm okay'. I'm really totally okay but I nod my head a little because I don't want to hamper his luxuriating in the pleasure soaring from the eighty thousand nerve endings in the head of his hard fat cock, all those nerve endings dancing for joy while providing Robby sexual pleasure of the most intense variety.
No, as a good 'bottom' I don't want to ruin that for him so, after the little nod of my head, I go, "Uh huh, I'm okay." And I am getting more okay by the second. Pain or not, my boner is like a six-inch long rock laying on my belly throbbing and getting heavier. Sure, some of the throbbing come compliments of my brain that's buying into my mostly self-inflicted submissive frame of mind, but Robby's hard sex organ helps too.
I'm still on my back but with my spine flat against the mattress now. Robby's leaning over holding my shoulders flat while I continue tightly pulling my bent legs back, keeping them spread more than normal with my feet now dangling outside my butt cheek on either side of me. Robby's four-inches-around boner head has my normally tightly closed anus opened beyond belief, but I'm okay and getting ready to be a lot better than okay.
He nods and smiles, saying, "You're a helluva lot better than okay, baby." That's not exactly what I meant but it's like Rob read my mind a little. Unaware of that, Robby gives me a quick kiss on my lips which inadvertently pushes his boner another two inches up my ass and now my back arches again at the spike in pain, my spine curving as I hold my breath with my face feeling hot and red. Rob doesn't notice that either as he's let go of my wrists and straightening up adjusting his position by leaning back, moaning, "Mmmm," as his hard cock pulls back an inch.
It was only momentary discomfort for me though and his rather inconsiderate movement there actually served a good purpose in that it further heightened my sense of being dominated... so it's cool, it's all good. Yeah, in my slightly inebriated condition I've been talking myself into this cooperative frame of mind that I'm now kinda stuck in... it's going round and round in a submissive cycle that started after the 'talk' ...and possibly could go on until sometime after eternity.
Taking my arms from holding my legs back, I stretch my legs out a little and the sweat that formed between my arms and legs begins evaporating and feeling refreshingly cool... nice. Rob sits up and goes, "Mmmm, ooh yeaah this feels good!" and then he bends forward hovering over me again. He sees my arms outstretched and interlocks his fingers with mine and then thrusts his hips completing his boner's shortish journey up my ass. Making a 'face' of either extreme pleasure or excruciating pain, Rob humps against my buttocks a few times and then takes a deep breath, and murmurs, "Feels fantastic as always, baby." I have nothing to say to that so he looks down at me with a questioning expression on his handsome face. I suppose he's expecting me to exclaim euphorically how wonderful of him to shove his big cock up my ass. No, that comment was just a momentary lapse in good taste due to a tiny irritation on my part because of the pain... totally uncalled for.
Anyway, the pleasure wagon will be on its way any second now to quickly convert all the nerve endings around my asshole from pain to pleasure. Inside my rectum, the party has actually already started as that crazy prostate gland of mine is always up for a riotous time when properly stimulated, and believe me, Rob's cock is an awesome simulator. I'm basically just waiting for my anus to get with the program. It's been less than two minutes since the bullseye hit, the perfect docking of his boner with my asshole, so I've learned patience. To Rob's comment that he 'feels fantastic', I go, "I'm glad because, from my perspective, nothing ever feels as good as your big fat boy inside me, Robby."
He says, "That is such as a nice thing for you to say, Dylan! As I told you a little while ago, you're the nicest person ever. The nicest person I know... seriously." I go, "Oh, I'm pretty sure you know some nicer people, Rob," and before I even finish saying that the pain fades away completely... like it always does. A miracle, that's what the pure relief feels like... a miracle. Its so wonderful words can't describe it. Omigod, I get excited and add, "Or perhaps I am the nicest person you know. In any case, we can discuss that later because right now this is feeling good, baby." He laughs out loud 'cause I called him 'baby' and then he pulls his boner back and things get to sizzling in my rectum. I suck air in between closed teeth, "Ssssss, oooh!"
That's the end of the bantering back and forth 'cause now we're both occupied with making sense of how incredibly good this feels. Robby has his usual look of concentration on his face pushing his boner back up inside me and then another slow withdrawal and thrust back and then twice more. He stops to exhale and shakes a little before starting in on a steady rhythm of thrusting, his hips aren't moving fast or hard enough to smack against my buttocks so there are no sounds of males fucking, but the steady thrusting has sensations soaring in my rectum making my shoulder shudder against the mattress. We're both moaning our quiet pleasure sounds that seemingly come out on their own.
The only body part of Rob that's moving is the most important part of him at the moment... his hips. His hips are pushing and pulling his hard boner back and forth in my ass with brilliant fireworks of pleasure sparking in my brain. Staring at Rob's face I see his facial expressions change as the sensations coming off his sensitive hard penis peak to thrilling levels that occasionally could be approaching pain if I'm interpreting his expressions correctly. Even though I'm not holding them back now, my legs are still bent and pulled back, my feet hanging limply and swinging slightly with every one of Rob's steady thrusts.
This experience pretty much defies description. Yep, sharing sex with my lover is the gold standard of sex for me and I especially like when we fuck in this position because I can see Robby's face, plus a lot of his body is either touching me or in very close proximity. Two, three, four minutes of constant pleasure from his hard fat boner sliding tightly in my rectum. Sliding more smoothly now that his boner has opened me up just wide enough to allow it to move. The pleasure is constant and incredibly awesome but not quite at the level that will ignite a climax response... it's almost there, but not quite. Oh, God though, it feels so fucking good!
Beads of sweat form on Rob's forehead, his eyes are closed again as his hips keep moving. Robby's sexy lips are slightly parted as I watch one of the sweat beads roll into his hair that's sticking to his sweaty forehead. Our sexual dance continues longer than I'm able to keep track of, my body moving back and forth with the rhythm of Rob's trusting and I couldn't be in a deeper trance of sexual pleasure. It's a dreamy deep sexual pleasure like no other... like nothing else can equal. My trance transports me someplace where there's no worries or bad luck or unpleasantness of any kind. A floating pleasure with the one person in the universe I want to take this trip with the most.
Maybe it's seven, eight, nine minutes of perfect sexual pleasure and still no clapping or slapping of our bodies together. That doesn't distract at all from incredible levels of pleasure though, this isn't hypnotically pleasurable... it's sexual pleasure to a degree that defies description. There's a growing desire in me for more bodily contact though so I pull gently on the back of Rob's neck and he lowers his head obligingly until our faces are together. I think Rob's in a sexual trance too because we don't kiss. Instead, our faces bump and slide together as perspiration begins forming on my face too and I've been hearing constant whining sounds the last minute or so that's becoming a distraction and then I realize it's me making the sounds. They're involuntary sounds though and out of my control, especially considering the state I find myself in. A state of near euphoria as my arms stay around the back of Rob's neck holding his face tighter against the side of my face. His hands leave my shoulders to hold onto my biceps as he moans, "Ooooh, mmm," and I know that any second now he's gonna start faster thrusting... and he does, he starts harder thrusting with his climax taking hold of his brain and body.
At first there are slow, "Slap, slap, slap," sounds and then with Robby moaning, "Oh, ooh, oooh," the slapping sound come faster, "Slapslapslap," Robby smacking against my butt cheeks and then fifteen seconds later it, "SLAPSLAPSLAP,' sounds really loud and fast that soon border on getting out of fucking control.
The thrusting gets desperately wild now and I can barely hold his head down as I cling to Robby until out of nowhere my climax roars up on me and with every muscle in my body seemingly contracting simultaneously I squeal as a shockingly long hard stream of creamy cum sizzles up and out my hard boner ... the creamy substance pours out but there's hardly any place for it to go so it splatters onto both our stomachs and chests and then, following another clench of muscles out flies another hot stream of semen with my whole body shaking and Robby humping against my buttocks pumping his creamy load up my ass. One hard long stream of it... oooh my God! Then more desperate humps against my ass, almost animalistic humping as Rob's pumping more cum out and the whole world is on fire! No, it's me who's on fire... I'm hot and sweaty but the 'fire' is in my mind. Rob keeps humping against my ass although surely his nuts must be dry by now.
Rob's thrusting slows down significantly and he lets out a long moan, then stops thrusting completely to lay forward until he's flat against my stomach and chest which squishes my cum between our bodies, Rob sort of sliding in it. I drop my legs and stretch them out on the mattress sighing but still concentrating on the lingering sparks of pleasure zipping all over me. Then another shoulders shudder... and I'm done.
No movement except our chests raising and lowering as we take deep breaths, our hearts pounding against our ribs. Yeah, that's our world for thirty-seconds... Rob lying on me, both of us breathing noisily while listening to our heart thunder in our chests. Then, with a sigh, Robby stretches his legs back too and that pulls his sloppy cock from my ass. I go, "Ahhh, ooh," as my rectum's last sizzle of nerve endings shimmer out the last of the pleasure from my latest sex act. Robby moans, "Ummm," lying fully on me from head to toes. We're the same height so, ya know, our sloppy cocks are squished together, sticky with our cum. Most of his cum is, of course, drooling out of my ass while all of my spunk is between us. We're gonna need to change these sheets 'cause I don't want my mom doing it.
My arms are spread out as I'm thinking that nothing ever felt that good, not for that long anyhow. Rob slides partially off me while reaching behind him with a hand to see if there's some mattress for him to lie on this small bed. There's some mattress so he slides off further until our sides are tight together with Rob on his stomach and me still on my back, Rob's arm across my chest. He takes another deep breath and murmurs, "That was nice, huh, babe?"
Haha, that was a feeble attempt by Rob to get me complimenting his fucking by saying it was MUCH better than nice. So, what the fuck, I say, "The best ever, that's how nice that was." He snorts out a chuckle and says, "I just remembered you saying a long time ago, you know, in one of your rants against the world that all 'tops' want compliments about their fucking. That's what you probably thought I was doing, didn't you?" I go, "Nooo! Don't be silly. I meant other 'tops', not you."
He snickers and mutters, "Sure ya did," and then he asks something practical, "How about a quick shower now?" I'm drunk enough to be impractical, saying, "Nah, I'll deal with our mess in the morning." He takes another big inhale and then says, "So will I."
Sighing, I sit up so I can reach down to straighten the covers and then pull them over us, mumbling, "I'm sticky." No comment from Robby. We lie like this for a while and then fall asleep naked and lying in our own goo.
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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