DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter. 39
by Donny Mumford
It's now about a month after Pony's one-night stay in the hospital... New Year's Day, and two days before the start of Dylan's final semester at college.
Rob and I aren't exactly getting the new year off to a rousing start considering we're still in bed. I'm afraid to look at my wristwatch but I do anyway and, oh balls... it's a little after one o'clock in the afternoon, and my hangover is a super-bitch!
Technically, we did get the new year off to a rousing start though. Last night we celebrated the new year by overindulging alcoholic beverages at Lulu's New Year's Eve party. I could even rationalize the hangovers because Rob and I have fewer of them than a majority of our peers and a hangover after New Year's Eve is as common as muck. While that is a fact, it isn't doing a fucking thing to help our current condition. We're both awake, but so far no words have been spoken unless groans count as words.
I know last night was supposed to be a celebration of a brand new year, or at least I assume that's what the ritual is celebrating. For Rob and me though, last night was a celebration of last year which was a damn good year for us. And although the number one reason for that may sound trite to some, nonetheless, we feel our love affair grew exponentially stronger last year and we're pretty fucking pleased about that and so we were secretly celebrating, um, ourselves I guess. We have other reasons for celebrating as well, obviously, but we're acknowledging we're super fortunate especially when considering the vast majority of our peers are trying to meet someone to go 'out' with, never mind being in love and forming 'real' plans for a life together like Rob and me.
We both agreed living together last summer played a big part in strengthening our love and commitment to one another, so last night Rob was 'toasting' me saying it took guts for me to basically subjugate myself to come to live with him. Heh heh, I choose the words 'subjugate myself' while Robby actually said I finally 'acquiesced' to his pleas. Harmless semantics I suppose, but my words fit into my playful sub/dom mind-games better.
Anyhow, last night Rob would toast me for moving in with him, and then I'd toast him for making it all work, and as we did that throughout the night the toasts kept getting increasingly maudlin. Yeah, I'd rather not think too much about how embarrassingly sappy it got there at the end of the night but still... while the toasts were boozily made, they were also sincerely heartfelt.
And, as I said, there are other reasons we needed to celebrate last year, one of them being our final exams and subsequent final grades for the semester. For the first time ever we received identical grades for each of our four courses: two A's, a B+, and a B. Those grades tell the story of how hard we worked at the academic part of college life and how many sacrifices we made in the partying aspects of college life. The 'B' showed up in our History of Rock and Roll course which ironically was our easiest. According to our asshole professor, however, while we aced the final exam we hadn't taken class participation seriously enough, but then why the hell would we? It's a course about rock and roll! Jesus, yeah, we didn't take the course anywhere near as seriously as the professor takes himself. Get over yourself, dude!
Anyway, those are the kind of grades we set out to achieve at the beginning of the semester and it's gratifying that our hard work was rewarded. And if that sounds corny too, so be it and go fuck yourself... we're proud of it! Rob was thinking we need impressive grades to show our future employer that we're a couple of serious individuals who can follow instructions and finish what we started. We had somewhat less than stellar grades freshman and sophomore years and while they weren't horrible grades, they also weren't in the not top ten percent of our class as our latest grades are. See Mr. Employer... we're trending up!
The fact our employer is likely to be Rob's father notwithstanding, we still wanted to shine this year academically. In Rob's case, he'll be in a management program and his college grades sort of offset the obvious nepotism that will be whispered about among some of the management staff who are, for the most part like much of humanity, meaning small-minded and prone to fits of jealousy. My future isn't as clear-cut as Rob's although he assumes I'll be working for Dickers & Son, and I probably will.
That won't be my only option however as my future stepdad has mentioned there will be a place in his and Tim's company for me after graduation. That's all that's been said about that... so far. You know, as opposed to the specific position they have in mind for Chubby after he completes his Master's Degree. In any case, neither Rob nor I will be among those graduates nervously going from company to company gripping resumes in sweaty palms, their hearts in their throats waiting to be interviewed for a job they don't really want but need it just the same. Maybe it's not that bad, but whatever hunting for a job is like, Rob and I won't be experiencing it.
And then there are even more things we're grateful about from last year, things that deserved celebrating and they include our successful and profitable summer jobs, plus a new car for me and a new truck for Rob, and having awesome friends and families, none of whom got in trouble with the law or suffered a serious injury or accident or illness all year, and then our own good health and ... well, you get the idea. All legitimate reasons to be grateful and therefore worthy reasons to celebrate. Sure, getting drunk is perhaps a weird way to celebrate but, like many revelers last night, that's how we chose to do it. You can do it your way and we'll continue celebrating our way.
Robby's lying on his back looking up at the ceiling when he finally mumbles, "This blows." That pretty much covers our present condition so I don't feel I need to elaborate other than add a grunted, "Uh huh." The damage was done last night at a bar/restaurant called Lulu's. It's a downtown Framingham spot that advertised a high-class all-inclusive New Year's Eve party. They charged seventy-five bucks a person but that supposedly includes an 'elegant' buffet and all you can drink from their 'open bar', including champagne at midnight. Plus, there will be a live band that promises to play into the 'wee hours' of the night. And not just any band, this one is a Grammy award-winning band and so what if it's a band none of us had ever heard of... they must be good if they won a Grammy.
Robby, Danny, Hayden and I went together but there were other guys we knew at the party, including my brother who came with a girl he's dated before. I forget her name but she's the sister of Chubby's friend from high school, Dallas Brown. Dallas was there too, as well as another of Chubby's friends, Jay James, who Chub worked with last summer. They all brought dates.
Dodger was there too. He came with his 'business partner', Josh Price, and both those guys had female-type dates with them as well. That indicates to me they're keeping their other 'partner' status under wraps. As far as I know, I'm the only one here who they told of their true relationship, although Rob must suspect the truth. All the boys who brought dates with them had to shell out a hundred-and-fifty dollars for last night's party at Lulu's.
Also in attendance were some of the old posse boys including our previous posse boy leader, a surprisingly subdued Ray Reeves who was with both his slightly overweight boyfriend and his shockingly attractive girlfriend. Yeah, for Ray it was a 'Two-hundred-and-twenty-five dollar night' at Lulu's. Devon McCarty was also there with his girlfriend, a girl I've always liked, Annie Smith. Devon and Annie recently reconnected after a year's separation, and then some of the other posse boys went stag like Bean, Manny Ruiz, and Jameson Doyle. Sonny wasn't there, unfortunately. He was at a party with his motorcycle friends, and I'm forgetting some of the other posse boys who hung out in the same area we were at. And there were other guys there I knew and even more that Rob knew, and also in attendance were about three hundred people we didn't know. It was mostly an under-thirties crowd with some older couples too, but not many. So there was a good vibe all night with most of the people I named taking over a couple of large tables that we called our own for the night, although the entire group was rarely there at the same time.
The party wasn't as advertised of course. No, Lulu didn't totally come across with everything her advertisement promised. The band, whose name I've forgotten, was supposedly popular for an instant in the eighties and therefore the members were quite old, plus only two of the original five guys were with this version of the band, the others presumably having died of old age. Still, they rocked out pretty good and when they were playing one song Dodger told me, 'Oh, I think I heard that as an oldie once on the radio!'. Other than that the band mostly covered other bands' hits. The band took a lot of breaks and they didn't play until the wee hours of the morning either. I mean, unless twelve-thirty is the 'wee' hour Lulu was referring to.
The 'all you can drink' part of the deal would have been great if you're a fan of Seagram 7 whiskey and some unknown vodka that came in big plastic jugs, and so forth... the no-name booze was disappointing as was the fact they only provided two bartenders to serve over three hundred people. Needless to say, the lines for drinks were long all night. I will admit they got something right... all the cans of Bud you could ever want were in two big tubs of ice, one at each end of the bar.
The inaccurate and/or greatly exaggerated aspects of Lulu's advertisement for the party became punchlines, like Chubby saying to a stranger in line, "All who can drink, my ninety-seven-year-old grandmother?'' or his comment to me as we were in the buffet line. "This is the first elegant buffet I've been at where baloney was available. Hope it's not all gone by the time we get there.'' Later in the night, Dodger came back to the table making a face and holding a paper plate with some potato salad and a slice of ham on it. He plopped the plate down and said, "I've known hobos who would turn up their noses at some of the food in Lulu's elegant buffet." It went like that, but it wasn't all bad. There was cold shrimp, a big sliced ham, plus many side dishes, but yeah, there were also a lot of cold cut platters and deli type foods. The main problem was the buffet layout. It was one long table for three hundred people. There was some shoving going on around the buffet.
The complaining was part of the fun though. Everyone was in a good mood and as far as I could tell we all had a blast. Everyone was kinda dressed-up too and we were all dancing a lot, rocking to the old-guy-has-been-band whose name, as I said, I've forgotten. The complaints about what a rip-off Lulu's party was got more inventive and funnier as we got drunker on the cheap booze. We were all laughing our asses off actually. I mean, whaddaya gonna do, ya know? We decided we were gonna have a good time, and we did. We all got drunk and loved on each other like you do when you're drunk. There were many bottles of cheap champagne at midnight with everyone blowing on the tacky tin horns the waiters passed out along with goofy hats that we all put on and hugged and kissed each other and... and, ten hours later Rob and I are lying here in bed almost comatose without talking.
Thinking about all that, I break our silence for only the second time since waking up to mutter, "It was the champagne, I think. That shit has a bad reputation for causing massive hangovers." Rob goes, "I think I'm gonna throw up," and then he does, but not much. He threw up last night too but that was in the toilet and it's why he put a wastebasket next to his side of the bed. He uses it now, and then says, "That was mostly stomach bile I think." I mutter, "Waaaay too much information, Rob."
After that excitement, we continue lying here in silence until I finally ask, "What time does your mom have the New Year's Day dinner?" Robby goes, "This year we're having the dinner at Dad's country club." I shrug and he wistfully adds, "Hmm, I wonder how mom and dad are doing? They were partying at one of the neighbor's house with like ten other couples." Huh, Rob strung quite a few words together there, um, without actually answering my question, and then he adds, "I'm assuming dinner won't be as early as Christmas dinner, but not as late as we'd probably like." I go, "Oh." Wow, I still don't know what time dinner will be today. He mutters, "No more questions, please." Oh, boy...
But then it's Rob who finally slides out of bed and stands. After a few seconds, he mumbles, "Not as bad as I expected," and then he staggers down the hall to the bathroom. I wish he'd taken the trashcan with him. He's back three minutes later handing me a plastic cup of water and a bottle of Advil. I mutter, "Thanks," and then take three Advil and chug the glass of water realizing I'm dehydrated, but somehow I need to piss so bad I might do it right here in bed. How come I didn't need to piss five seconds ago? The mysteries of life are, um, mysterious.
Sliding out of bed I follow Rob as he goes back down the hall to the bathroom where we piss standing next to each other, mostly hitting the toilet but there is some spraying off the rim too. Silently washing our hands we then brush out teeth for three hours. No, I mean three minutes and then without agreeing to do this ahead of time, we both get in the tub and turn on the shower. When I'm soaking wet, I slowly shake my head as I'm pulling off my underpants. I hold my jockey shorts by one finger for a second as Rob and I look at it, and then I toss it out past the shower curtain. Robby snickers at that 'cause my oversight is due to my condition.
And, that snicker from Rob was the first positive sign I've noticed that perhaps we'll live to see another day. There's not even a passing thought of doing any sexy stuff during our shower even though we stay in the shower for twenty minutes. We wash and shampoo and then just lean against one another under the shower's strong flow of water. Without talking, we dry ourselves and go back down the hall with towels around our waists and then, inside the bedroom, we both sit down to rest. Robby drops down onto the desk chair and I sit on the edge of the bed. After a few seconds, I slowly lie back down with my arms spread out and close my eyes.
I'm thinking how this Christmas break has been very much like our Thanksgiving break... times-five! I'm five times as tired too. It's been great fun although Rob and I needed to do everything twice. Participate in two Christmas Eve affairs and two Christmas day festivities, one with Rob's family and then with mine while reconnecting with friends in between and... Omigod, it gets tiring. Too much drinking and eating and socializing and smiling and being upbeat and... too much everything. But it's been fun too, as I said.
And, oh yeah, Hayden and I had sexy fun one afternoon and so did Danny and I. Sonny and I did too for that matter and, of course, Robby and I slept together every night and we had sexy fun too. Sex is phenomenal, fantastic, outrageously hot... but if I added up all the time I spent having sex since coming home for Christmas break it'd be less than two hours total, probably less... the actual sex acts I mean. That leaves approximately 530 other hours of this Christmas break with nothing sexually happening. Those calculations are for perspective purposes only. I don't suggest you try it at home.
Never mind all that now though, lying on the bed I'm slowing coming to the realization that the Advil and the long shower have helped my condition quite a bit. Robby is now off the chair looking in a bureau drawer for underwear. I mumble, "Are you ready to go back to college yet, Rob? You know, where life is easy and peaceful... comparatively speaking." He sighs, "Yeah, babe, but mostly because I'm getting anxious to finish it... be done with college permanently."
Jeez, in some ways that's a scary thought. Getting up off the bed, I ask, "What should I wear for this holiday known as New Year's Day?" Robby takes a deep breath, and says, "We should probably dress up a little. Dad's Club is kinda fancy. I mean the dining room. You and I have had had lunch in the clubhouse which is nice, but the dining room is ritzy if ya know what I mean." I don't know exactly, but I get the idea. We both stand there looking in the closet and finally settle on wearing; dress-slacks along with Christmas presents button-down shirts and ties, plus Christmas presents V-neck sweaters, and then loafers on our feet. Yes, basically the same Christmas present clothes for both of us, but in different colors. Finished getting dressed, I hold my arms out, asking, "Whaddaya think, Rob?" He mutters, "We both look awesome. Let's see how the 'rents are making out," and I follow Robby as he's clumping noisily downstairs.
Rob's parents don't look too good. They're slumping in family room chairs with the big flat screen TV showing the Rose Parade in Pasadena, California. Neither Mr. or Mrs. Dickers appears to be watching TV though, and while Mrs. D. has a magazine on her lap, she doesn't appear to be looking at that either.
Hearing us, or more likely hearing Robby clumping downstairs, his mom looks up and manages a smile, asking, "G'morning, er, afternoon, boys. How was your party last night?" Robby says, "It was an 'effin rip-off! We had a good time anyway. How'd your party turn out?" Mr. D. mutters, "The Cramers have always thrown a splendid party and last night they even outdid themselves, right Em?" She says, "Oh my, yes!' and looking a Rob she grins, saying, "You wouldn't believe what a dancing fool your father was last night." Mr. D. goes, "Oh, for chrissakes, Emily! Jesus, what choice did I have with you pulling on me to dance every three minutes?" Jeez, old people dancing?
Mrs. Dickers is used to rudeness from her husband and sons so she easily overlooks that unnecessary remark, saying to Rob, "Your father wanted to join some of the boys playing pool in their finished basement but us girls dragged them all upstairs to dance. We had a wonderful time." Robby goes, "Uh huh. Is there anything to eat?" She gets up and says, "I'll fix you something. What sounds good to you?" and the three of us walk toward the kitchen as Mr. D. yells, "The dinner at the club, well the cocktail hour anyway, starts at five o'clock. That's a heads-up for you guys!" Huh, I finally get an answer to my question...
Mrs. D. says to us, "You both look so handsome this morning." I'm still thinking about her telling us a minute ago that 'the 'boys' wanted to shoot pool, but the 'girls' dragged then upstairs to dance'. I've often wondered how old you need to be before you stop referring to yourselves as boys and girls? It's still boys and girls in their mid-forties apparently... I learned that much this morning. Not that it matters.
Rob and I sit at our customary places around the kitchen table with Mrs. D. saying, "I just brewed a special New Year's Day pot of coffee for dad," and she sets mugs in front of us and then pours our coffees. Rob's parents are not dressed up, which is to say they're still wearing pajamas and bathrobes with slippers on their feet. That's probably because we won't be leaving the house for three hours. Rob thought it would be sooner and, actually, I have no problem being ready early. I'm content being ready to go rather than getting dressed in regular clothes and then taking those clothes off to put on what we're wearing now and... oh fuck, that thought was exhausting just thinking it.
Rob says, "Would you turn the radio on, babe." The radio is closest to me so I get up and click it on. Sitting down again Rob and I look at each other and then he gives me that awesome loving smile of his... the one that's just for me. I assume it's a 'thank you' for me turning on the radio. It's such a loving smile though I reach over and touch his hand that's lying on the table. He turns his hand over and we hold hands for a few seconds until his mom asks, "What do you feel like eating." Rob goes, "How about an egg sandwich? What do you think, babe?" I nod, saying, "Sounds good," and Mrs. D. gets busy.
Letting go of my hand, Robby pulls over the sports page of the Boston Globe that his dad left on the table. Rob always reads the paper with it flat on the table which I find strange. I stare at him thinking he's getting better looking every day. Rob's still getting the preppy short haircuts from Danny that he's been getting all semester and I've come to think it looks just right for him. A touch of youthfulness to combat his beard that's coming in fuller lately, although in a nice pattern. For example, like my own skimpy mustache pattern, Rob's mustache doesn't connect with anything... it just ends at the sides of his mouth. Neither of us has beard growth on our cheeks, none at all... still pink-cheeked baby-faced at twenty-two... heh heh.
Yeah, mostly there's some thin beard showing along our jaws and chin and in Rob's case, it extends onto his neck a little. Well, I can't see that now because we shaved before going out last night and neither of our beards grows out very fast... we still look clean-shaven this morning. I'm hoping I never need to shave every day.
Ya know, thinking about Robby's haircut and our beards, such as they are, brings to mind my latest adventure with Sonny. He didn't text me until I'd been home for over two weeks. Yeah, it was two or three days after Christmas and his text read: 'I'm wicked horny... so I need a haircut.' Sonny's never been especially subtle. I wasn't horny when I read his text but you don't need to be horny to enjoy buddy sex, and since my buddy sex days are dwindling down to a precious few, ya know, it's not prudent to pass up an opportunity. Plus, Rob's and my 'arrangement' is still very much in place and there's been no mention of changing it. Actually, I'm not really sure about the 'precious few' part of that last over dramatized 'dwindling down' thought. God knows though, I haven't been swimming in sex buddies for quite some time now, so I was glad to read Sonny's text.
My major glory days are behind me although I did have quite a good time with Sonny. And as I mentioned, Hayden too, but sex with Hayden was during the first week we were home. Um, and that's another story. As for Sonny's text, well it just happened to come at a fortuitous time. Rob had gone to the office with his dad that morning for a reason I've forgotten now, and I was hiding out in our bedroom getting bored. So, what the fuck, I texted Sonny telling him to meet me at my Mom's condo. Luckily I remembered to bring my barber stuff home with me this time. And that day I was happy for any reason to get out of the house... Sonny, being what I considered a good reason, was a bonus.
Bringing the barber toiletry kit, I drove Rob's pickup to the condo where I saw Sonny sitting on his motorcycle at the garage doors waiting for me. We did a guy's hug and then I was like, "How the fuck can you drive a motorcycle in this weather? It's twenty degrees." He said something about as long as it isn't snowing he's on his motorcycle. It had snowed, but not a lot and it melted the next day. It snowed the day Rob and I were driving home actually, but that bad-ass new pickup of his isn't bothered by snow.
This was one or two days after Christmas, as I said, and Sonny and I made small talk about how winter is about to get serious with January only a week away and we both agreed that January and February are the suckiest months of the year. Everybody talks about the weather; it's the number-one small-talk topic in the world. If we were skiers we'd be thinking the opposite about January and February I suppose. Life is all about perspectives.
Anyway, we went inside mom's condo through the back entrance next to the garage and before the door closed Sonny initiated a pretty hot and sexy kiss that had me walking backward a few steps and then, holding my face between his hands, he told me the last sex he had was with me during Thanksgiving break. That brought home to me again that there are lots and lots of young guys, both straight and gay, who rarely have sex. That seems so alien to me, although I know it's true. Well, that's just sad...
When I took my hat off Sonny saw my haircut and wanted a haircut like mine. The last time he saw me I had Danny's version of a 'for real' flattop haircut. That's not my haircut now though because Danny wanted to see how I looked with a burr haircut and it's the haircut he gave me the week before Christmas break, and then again two days ago, in his words... so I'd look my best for the New Year's Eve party. As I just said, many things in life are a matter of opinion when you get right down to it.
Danny had the name wrong for my haircut though. This haircut is called a crewcut, not a burr... technically speaking that is. He corrected himself, explaining to me what I already knew about it. There are some subtle differences but I'll show some mercy and not go into what those subtle differences are. The bottom line is, I like this crewcut better than the flattop even though, naturally, Danny did the shorter version on my head. He does the short version with all styles of haircuts.
Sonny wanted a crewcut like mine, and so that's what I did for him. The discrepancy in skill levels between Danny's level, which is high, and mine became obvious when I tried duplicating the haircut. The one Danny gave me was cut with a flawless technique that I couldn't match. That's right, Danny's fading/tapering ability I couldn't exactly duplicate for Sonny's crewcut. The sides and back gave me a lot of trouble although no one is going to point at Sonny's haircut and go...'Eww, your haircut sucks!' Sonny was very pleased with it actually. Like most guys though, he doesn't know a good haircut from a bad one. His isn't a bad one, it's simply not an especially good one when compared with the one Danny gave me.
Naturally, I was glad Sonny was happy with it but I was disappointed I couldn't do it as well as Danny, so it's mostly all about me I guess... haha! Another disappointment for me was while doing Sonny's haircut I never experienced much of a rush from my fetish. I think that's because I was trying so fucking hard to get the haircut done right. Yeah, it took like twenty-five minutes of fucking around redoing the hair on the sides and back of his redheaded head. Plus, I didn't feel comfortable cutting Sonny's hair as short on top as Danny did mine but then when Sonny checked himself out in the mirror he asked me to do his like mine. Go figure! Ya try to please, ya know?
Forget about all that though because neither of us was disappointed with the fuck Sonny gave my ass right after the haircut. I was unplugging the clippers when he got me from behind and with horny desperation, he pulled my jeans down right past my hips without undoing the button. That move also dragged my jockey shorts down but only partly off my ass. Amazingly Sonny somehow managed to pull his pants down at the same time and then he was pressing his crotch and cock against my ass holding me around the waist very tightly while he was taking scary-sounded deep breaths. Christ, his arousal was enough to get anyone a little bit turned on.
The side of his face was pressed against the side of mine as Sonny gasped and said, "I'm sorry for attacking you, Dylan, but I've been wicked horny. I've been wanting to text you for two weeks but I was worried you'd think me pathetic and, fuck, I don't know, it's just that you're the sexiest guy I've ever known." Ahh... that was nice of him to say. It's the kind of thing a guy who doesn't currently have a fuck buddy would say to almost anyone who's willing to have sex with him, so I'm not getting a big head about it.
He humped against my ass twice and that's all it took for his dick to get hard. Yeah, just like that he had a long hard boner pressing down between my buttocks along my ass crack. It was pretty sexy actually, and I've always liked Sonny anyway, and I've always thought he was a sexy kid from that time he sat on my lap, but that's also another story.
Sonny has a normal cock as far as it's girth, but it's longer than average. It's probably seven inches, or perhaps even a tad longer than that. Of course, I knew we'd fuck but not twenty seconds after I finished his haircut so it took me unawares you might say. Feeling his cock get hard against my ass I told him something like 'We're buddies with a history together, Sonny, so this is okay. I don't, however, recommend you use this tactic on casual acquaintances as it could be misinterpreted as rape." He was grinding against my ass and not paying much attention to my effort at being ironic... his only response was a muttered, "Huh?" or something similar as his hand was guiding that longish boner of his to my asshole.
I could easily have pulled away because Sonny's not the strongest kid on the block, but I didn't because, as I just said, we've got an agreeable history together. Sonny being a sweetly dominant 'top', and I like him best when he's in that role. Unlike Danny and some others who have dominance in their sex play, but don't think of it in that way, Sonny knows about dominant/submissive sex and insists on being dominant. So, yeah, I've always liked our arrangement in that regard, liked it quite a bit.
A drawback for me is Sonny's refusal to use a lubricant, especially now that I've become used to it. Not ideal, but that's part of his dominant approach and therefore part of the whole package. On the plus side, he produces lots of pre-cum which helps and, with a few grunts of pain from me, grunts that Sonny expected to hear and therefore totally ignored, all seven-plus inches of his boner made its way up my ass in record time. Sonny did a few humps against my buttocks just because he felt like it, which moved his longish boner inside me slightly making me squirm against his slim body. Successfully docked and in control, I suppose he wanted to prove it further by his aggressive smacking on the side of my right butt cheeks three or four times before asking, "How's this feel?" I was like, "Ahh, ooh," gritting my teeth waiting for my rectum to adjust. It wasn't the smacks on my ass but the quick trip his boner took up my ass that still hurt. Sonny is a positive thinker though and interpreted my grunts of pain as a positive comment from me, so he muttered, "Damn right! That feels good, don't it?" and he gave my ass another hard, "Smack!" making me yelp which made him snicker and smack it again, "Smack!" Damn, he's a good 'top'. And then he says what I could do without, he goes, "I'm sorry if that hurt, Dylan."
Heh heh, yeah, that was Sonny's natural dominant side showing itself and then his apology wasn't out of character for him because he is basically a sweet kid. There's a lot to be said for the length of a guy's penis versus girth, although both types of hard cocks have their good points. I always concentrate on the positives of whichever type of hard cock is in my ass and that's what I did with Sonny. Even though this was only like five days ago, some of the details are a little vague but you get the idea.
Seriously though, it turned out to be a really good, albeit very short fuck. The first thirty seconds of his long hard cock tightly moving back and forth in my ass were not cool because it was painful. I wasn't having a good time yet, but my ass got its act together pretty fast and then the last like forty-five seconds felt so good I froze like a statue just listening to the incredibly fast, "Slapslapslap" noise along with Sonny's desperate whining moans as he rushed to climax at an impressive speed. And, of course, sensations were soaring high and hot from my rectum. That plus my throbbing boner had me closing my eyes and scrunching my face trying not to moan like a pussy but, damn, it felt wicked good!
Much too soon I felt his climax explode inside me... it was a long streak of warmth and especially creamy and gooey sperm the way cum gets when it's been building up for a few weeks in a guy's balls. Well, first there was the initial streak of cum that was piercing as it fired from his hard cock against the walls of my rectum with Sonny whimpering at how it felt coming out, but then the sloppy thick creamy stuff made my ass feel extra slippery when he thrust for another thirty seconds or so. It felt really sloppy in my ass as I pictured in my head his long boner tightly surrounded by my rectum walls with his boner's gaping piss slit spewing his hot creamy cum inside me and covering his boner too as he thrust in his own goo. Omigod, that picture made my dick spit out some pre-cum that felt good, but I never did climax.
There have been guys who fucked me and climaxed in as short a time as Sonny did that afternoon, and I may have done it myself once or twice but not recently and not when it hurts the first thirty seconds of less than a ninety-five-second fuck. Sonny was gasping for oxygen. In between his gasping, he told how incredible his climax felt. I didn't want to bring him down by mentioning that there's a difference between sexual need, sexual relief, and actually enjoying the sex act long enough for both participants to climax which is, after all, the whole point of the experience. That's fucking-lesson number 101 in the book I'm going to write called 'Horny Individuals and Sex', but I didn't mention that to Sonny 'cause I like him.
After cleaning up a little we had a couple of beers in the kitchen while I was trying to recall when I'd left those beers at the condo. Mom doesn't drink beer. Then I remembered... oh, yeah, Mom has beers in the refrigerator because Tom drinks beer... duh! And then the thought occurred to me that they probably spend the night here sometimes doing 'it' too. Damn, I still would rather not picture my mom having sex even though I've decided I like Tom a lot.
Sonny actually acted embarrassed while telling me he was sorry he attacked me like that but the older he gets the hornier he gets. He asked me if that was normal? He tends to treat me like I was some 'old' respected expert on the topic. Christ, I'm only like twenty months older than he is! I'm not some sex guru like he, Carl, and even Pony apparently think I am. I personally do not think that's complimentary, by the way. Sure, I have above average sex but I've read where guys have way more sex that I do. Go ask them your sex questions...
I didn't tell Sonny that, um, I forget what I told him actually. Probably I told him I have no idea why he's hornier the older he gets... it's different for everyone. I do recall asking him what happened to the fuck buddy he used to have and Sonny told me something vague and then whined about how hard it is to find fuck buddies. Something like that. I felt like telling him about the lack of buddy sex I've had this past year, but came to my senses and didn't do that. I stopped myself because he'd probably think I had a great year in that regard considering the guy in Hartford I had sex with, and then that guy who was training with Dickers & Son last summer and then, of course, Danny and Pony. Also, I sort of remembered the fifty or more fuck buddies I've run into during the previous four-plus years of my life and didn't want to be a hypocrite by pretending it's all that difficult getting laid.
Fuck though, as we were drinking and talking I was noticing the sun shining off Sonny's head through the kitchen window. Damn, I could plainly see all the areas on the side of his head I hadn't 'faded' very well while doing his haircut. Shit, I made myself look away but I was pissed off a little at Danny. I mean, how the hell is it possible for him to be such a good barber in such a relatively short time? I used to pride myself on being exceptional, but now... I mean, it doesn't make any fucking sense Danny could be this much better than me!
Sonny and I talked and drank two beers each and by then I was feeling kinda bad for him and his lack of sex. Ya know, so I took him in my old bedroom, told him to get naked, and then we got in bed and he fucked me really hard but good for maybe fifteen minutes before he climaxed again. Hell, I shot cum all over that twin bed of mine in like five minutes but enjoyed the extra ten-minute ride afterward too.
It's fun thinking about that, but my mind returns to the present when Mrs. D. puts a plate in front of me with an egg sandwich on it, saying, "Dylan, dear, I put cheese on your egg sandwich. I should have asked if you wanted it." Rob says, "We always have cheese on an egg sandwich, Mom! Christ, don't make everything into a drama!" Looking up I see Mr. Dickers carrying a coffee cup and saucer into the kitchen, saying, "The coffee isn't hot, Em. Is that damn coffee maker broken?" Mrs. D. says, "I should give you guys K-cup coffee from the Keurig machine instead of going to the trouble of freshly brewing coffee in the French Roast coffee maker." I say, "The sandwich is perfect. It's delicious, Mrs. Dickers." She pats my shoulder absently, and says, "Give me the cup, Robert, I'll pour you a fresh one."
After the late light breakfast, Rob and I vegetate on the sofa in the family room watching a college basketball game on TV while dozing off periodically. Sighing, I check my cell phone at one point and see Happy New Year wishes from people. Damn, I wish I'd have thought to send those texts. Oh, man! Well, the least I can do is send responses to the Happy New Year wishes from Mom, Tris, Chubby, Pony, and Connor. Yeah, Connor! He and I have continued meeting once or twice a week for coffee at the Quad after that dinner party. Connor seems okay. He isn't thrilled about anything in particular, but then he never has a discouraging word about anything either.
Of course, I try to pry some insight out of him about his everyday dealings with Stosh but Connor's adept at telling me stuff that later I realize didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. At least he isn't being injured by the Neanderthal anymore, and the last time I saw him before the Christmas break he was happy with his grades and everything seemed good.
Oh, and there was a week that Stosh was away. He had to follow a claimant from the insurance company he works for to Vermont trying to get evidence the guy's neck wasn't fucked up or something bizarre like that. Fucking insurance companies! Connor did say those seven days were the most relaxing days he's had in a while. That was kinda insightful, but he's yet to come out and bitch about anything involving Stosh, so I'm sort of at a loss... he doesn't want anything to change apparently. I guess I'm glad for him... sort of.
And, wow, it was nice of Pony to send me New Year's wishes! I never expected he'd think to do that. Obviously, I never expected it from Danny either, but then no one expects me to send them Happy New year wishes either. I need to be more thoughtful. Anyway, I return good wishes to those nice people and after that exhausting chore, I dozed off again.
Next thing I know Rob's dad is asking, "Are you guys hungry yet?" I smelled his aftershave lotion before I saw him. Rob groans, "What was that, Dad?" Mr. Dickers turns off the TV, adding, "We'll be leaving for the Club in ten minutes. You boys could use a little sprucing up, and now is the time to do that." Subtle!
Robby mumbles, "Yeah, okay. C'mon, Dylan, let's wash our faces. Maybe it'll wake us up." We do that and then straighten our clothes that got messed up from us basically lying on the sofa. Rob combs his hair, saying, "I should get a haircut like yours, babe, and then I wouldn't need to worry about combing my hair five times a day." Yeah, there's no combing required for a crewcut. Watching Rob I'm thinking about Danny giving me my first crewcut. It was in his dorm room obviously, I guess that was about three weeks ago now.
Heh heh, I like, and this is putting it mildly, getting haircuts from Danny! Anyway, by then I'd become totally used to the flattop haircuts and actually had talked myself into liking it. So I was expecting the same haircut and, obviously, I was wrong. As he always does, Danny assumed it was a foregone conclusion that I'd be okay with the haircut he decided to give me. In his normal selective way of hearing what he wants to hear, he assumed I was in total agreement with him and that I was fully expecting this new hairdo, which I wasn't.
So I was sitting on the barber stool with the barber cape around me looking forward to the haircut and especially looking forward to us doing our in-bed-buddy-sex afterward. Basically, I was in one of my trances brought on from staring at the way Danny does everything and, consequently, I wasn't really listening to him. I was foggily thinking he's the coolest guy ever. The way he goes about whatever the fuck he's doing fascinates me, which is one of the reasons why I'm always staring at him. I wish I was more like him actually. Danny's confidence, often unwarranted, is obvious in everything he does and I admire that. There's no hesitation or uncertainty in that boy... just do it. Haha, just like the saying on my t-shirt. The one I was supposedly wearing in Danny's misremembered subconscious 'recall' of why he wanted to see me with a flattop in the first place. It's Nike's mantra... 'JUST DO IT!' That's what is on that red t-shirt of mine.
Damn, I wanted to find that t-shirt the last time I was in the condo and I forgot to look for it. I'm going to find it and wear it around Danny without saying anything and watch his reaction... haha. That'll be cool. Anyway, as I said, Danny was talking and I wasn't comprehending because of my foggy trance and he starts the haircut using clippers without a guide on the side of my head. Bzzzz goes the clippers and a bunch of hair comes off pretty much down to my scalp just above my ear. That's when I knew my haircut wasn't gonna be another flattop, and only then did I remembered Danny saying something about a burr haircut a few Sundays earlier. And ya know what? When that bunch of hair was buzzed off down to my scalp I didn't say a word. I just let him do my haircut however he wanted to do it! I don't know, but I think Danny's sort of has me trained to go along with what he wants. What's the use of arguing anyway? He ignores what he doesn't want to hear, which I think is fucking sexy and dominant of him.
When Danny finished, and he's too fast if you ask me, I told him I liked the haircut okay except I emphatically impressed upon him not to use the bare clippers on the sides and back next time. I made sure to compliment him on the haircut because he did it excellently, it was just that I made a fucking big deal out of not using the clippers without a guide next time. It simply doesn't work being subtle with Danny! Ya know, and he said something like, "Oh, okay, I'm sorry, baby," and that was that. Of course, my next haircut was the one I got just the other day, and he used the bare clippers again and faded the hair up the side exactly the way he did it the first time. I was like... I mean, it was so outrageously laughable I had to laugh, and he was like, "What?" I told him, "Oh, nothing..."
That memory recall fades out when Rob, done fucking around with his hair, goes, "Earth to Dylan," I'm like, "What?" and he grins, mumbling, "Ya ready, babe?" That snaps me out of my musings, obviously, and I go, "Yep, I'm hungry now." As we walk out of the bathroom, he mutters, "Yeah, me too. This should be pretty good." And then, as we normally do whenever going anyplace with Rob's parents, we drive there ourselves so we can leave when we want. Rob drives us in the pickup bitching about wearing a tie, and then we meet his mom at the Country Club's front door. Mrs. Dickers says, "I waited here to tell you boys to go to the clubhouse bar first. Dodger and Josh are already here."
Robby nods, "Yeah, okay, but where'd you think we'd go for drinks?" and, after getting in that rude comment, which Rob apparently feels he must do, we go inside. This is the cocktail hour so it's no surprise that the bar is wicked crowded. I see Dodger and Josh drinking beers standing near the big fireplace. Rob's parents go over to a table where their next-door neighbors have saved them a couple of seats. Mr. D. yells over to us, "You guys find us in the dining room in about an hour," I nod my head and Robby mutters, "Whatever," and then to me, "I'll get us something for us to drink. Whaddaya want, babe?" I go, "I'd like a Coke but that's not keeping with the spirit of things so how about a rum and Coke... easy on the rum." He goes, "Hey, not a bad idea. I'll meet you over there with Dodger and what's-his-name, um, Josh."
Oh yeah, I've been noticing that Rob hasn't warmed up to Josh. I'm seeing a pattern. Rob's never become very friendly with Hayden because Danny was really good friends with Hayden, and Rob's never really become friendly with Pony either, and now he's not too cool about Josh because he's Dodger's best friend. The obvious pattern is Rob won't warm up to guys Dodger, Danny, or I warm up to... or is that too much of a stretch? I'm perhaps over analyzing again... but what am I to think? It's all merely a coincidence?
As I'm walking up to them through the crowd, Dodger gives me his mysterious smile. I mumble, "Looking good, Dodger," and then we do a normal quick hug as Josh says, "Hey, Dylan, I see you survived last night." I'm like, "Hi, Josh. Yeah, but just barely," we bump fists as I ask, "How you guys doing?" Dodger goes, "We're okay. Hey, what'd you like better last night; the bologna or that sawdust meatloaf?" I laugh because that's the kind of shit we were saying last night. Dodger and Josh chuckle and then Rob's here. That was sure fast compared to getting drinks last night. He hands me both our rum and Cokes so he and Dodger can do a quick hug, mumbling, "Bro.." to each other. Rob nods at Josh and then says, "This is another buffet. Did you know that's what it was gonna be for dinner, Dodger?" Dodger mutters. "I didn't know anything about it except when to be here." Rob tells us he glanced in the dining room as they're setting up the buffet and there's whole lobsters plus a standing prime rib station with about a thousand awesome looking desserts being brought out. I'm getting psyched.
We drink slowly, all four of us, and talk about last night joking that we need to call Lulu and get her ass over here so she can see what an elegant buffet looks like. None of us want a second drink and around six-twenty we see people moving into the dining room. We follow the crowd and Mrs. D. is soon motioning to us and pointing at one of the big round tables reserved for R. DICKERS. That's what the embossed card says on the table. Rob's dad is over at another table yucking it up with some men, one of whom has one of the worst combovers I've ever seen. That's a shame...
There's already a salad at each place setting, plus a basket of rolls on the table so we sit down and the Dickers' boys start eating right away. Josh and I look at each other and then Josh says to Dodger, "Wait for your parents." I go, "Yeah, Rob, don't be so uncouth." Dodger and Rob exchange 'looks' and then smirk at each other and continue eating. I don't feel right doing that.
There's a number of waiters in abbreviated tuxedo uniforms going from table to table pouring either white or red wine... your choice. Fuck wine, I'm gulping down the glass of water that's at my place, still dehydrated from last night. The salad does look good and when I see Josh hesitantly take a roll to put on the little plate next to his salad plate, I do the same and then break off a piece of the roll and plop it in my mouth. My mouth sort of waters because I'm so hungry. I only had an egg sandwich over the last eighteen hours or so.
Mrs. D. sits down and says, "Don't care for the salad, Josh? Or you, Dylan?" I let Josh do the explaining. He goes, "Dylan and I are waiting for you and Mr. Dickers." She looks surprised and then gestures at Mr. Dickers, who somehow has a fresh Manhattan in his hand and is at another table yucking it up with some other men... maybe his golf partners. Mrs. D. explains, "They're calling sections of the room to go through the buffet line one at a time and our section looks like it'll be near the end so you boys eat your salad and rolls. But it was polite of you to wait for Robert and I to sit down, wasn't that polite of your friend, Dodger?" and she taps his arm. Dodger goes, "Oh yeah, Josh is a polite motherfu... um, he's polite alright. Dylan too," and he pulls his father's salad over and starts eating that, saying in between swallowing mouthfuls of salad, "This is the first thing I've had to eat all day. Isn't it, Josh?" Josh has begun eating his salad now too and he says, "Yes, except for the large cheesesteaks we had for breakfast."
Mrs. D. laughs at that and then motions for one of the wine servers to get his ass over here. As he pours wine in the glass at each place setting, Mrs. D. puts her salad at Mr. Dickers' place. She sure caters to her guys, all three of them. The table we're at is in the next to last section called to go through the buffet line but it's only been like twenty minutes after we sat down. Dodger mutters, "All the good stuff is probably gone by now, right?" Not the case though as there's plenty of everything. Servers keep bringing out fresh platters. We see a station with a big ham and one with turkey and the aforementioned standing rib roast and lobster stations. There are also warming trays with other fish items, not that we're going to try any of them. Wow though, awesome buffet! Yeah, money talks and bullshit, um, is Lulu's buffet.
Nice china plates too as opposed to last night's flimsy paper plates. I ask Rob, "What did this cost your dad?" He shrugs as he forks a nice piece of roast beef onto his plate. See he doesn't think about what things cost because he was raised going to this fancy Country Club, whereas I was not. Taking something like this for granted, like probably most of the hundred or so people here do, is too bad for them. I can appreciate it more than Rob. On the other hand, how bad would it be to get used to this kind of thing?
It's an awesomely great meal and the dessert spread is sick, which is kind of how I feel after overdoing the desserts. When everyone is finishing up dinner there's an exodus from the dining room as people drift back to the bar for after dinner drinks. I give Robby a 'look' like... let's go home. He's as tired as I am and tells his parents that we'll be leaving. They've both got their second wind or something and look surprised we're leaving, but after we thank them for a great dinner they tell Rob to drive carefully and then they join the hardier partiers at the bar. Dodger and Josh are staying too and as we're getting our coats we hear a band start playing.
Walking through the cold parking lot, I ask, "Are we boring, Rob? I mean, even Dodger stayed." He shakes his head, "I don't know if we're boring, babe, but I'm exhausted." I mumble, "Me too, but..." He stops and asks, "Do you wanna stay?" I really don't but, and then maybe... but no, I say, "No, I don't," and we get into the pickup. We only had the one drink, a rum and Coke which was horrid, and that was it for booze. I never so much as sipped my wine, finally passing it to Josh.
It's a twenty-minute ride back to the house and during the ride, Rob says, "The secret to overcoming a hangover when you want to party the next night is getting the first two or three drinks forced down somehow. That fools your body into thinking you're okay to go for it, and you can have a pretty good time, BUT... the next morning you're totally fucked up all over again and even worse than the previous day. We didn't do that so we won't be hurting tomorrow morning and they will be." He's right. I sort of knew that and maybe if there weren't eighty-five-percent parent-age people at the club we'd have taken the fool-your-body path to be with the guys, but there were all those parent-type people, so tomorrow we're gonna be glad we left. Still, we should have stayed...
After a luxurious night's sleep, I wake up the next morning and smile because I feel pretty good. Number one, I feel rested and, number two, I don't have a hangover. We came home, got ready for bed by doing our bathroom stuff, and then went to sleep. No sex, just sleep and it's a rare time I'd choose sleep over sex but it was an easy choice last night. This is our last day home and I hope we just lie around doing very little. Tomorrow I want to be ready for what comes next.
When we drive back tomorrow, we don't have a class but there's a getting used to being back, breaking in period that'll be easier to tolerate if I'm rested and feeling good. And yeah, we are probably boring but I don't care. Then there are the exceptional guys who are always rested and feeling good like Carl, who never had a hangover in his life. Hmm, yeah so he probably doesn't even appreciate waking up feeling like I feel this morning, he takes it for granted. And, no, we're not boring!
Speaking of Carl, he's no longer still in possession of his cherry. Pat what's-his-name has got the boy's cherry now and I guess, theoretically, Carl's got Pat's cherry. Well, Pat fucked Carl so I know that counts, but I don't know if it counts that Carl has Pat's cherry. Actually, I'm pretty sure it doesn't now that I give it a two-second thought. Yeah, Carl was all excited telling me about it... they both were, Pat and Carl. That was back like ten days after that dinner party Rob and I had many weeks ago. Christ, I wanted to hear all the details too, and they were both more than willing to share.
It was after Connor and I had one of our coffee breaks together, and coffee break when I didn't learn anything new from Connor and as I walked outside with him that's when I ran into Carl and Pat coming in. Carl was like, 'Do you have a minute, Dylan?' and he motioned at Pat, adding, 'We have something to tell you,' or words to that effect anyway.
Haha, Connor made a face at me 'cause I guess he thought it was funny two freshmen were all excited about telling me something. Connor muttered, "Dylan, the Pied Piper," and with a wave, he was on his way to his next class. Heh heh, good to see Connor still showing a sense of humor. Actually, he seems more and more like his old self every time I see him, except those gay affectations are still noticeable. I mentioned it to him a long time ago and, basically, he indicated it's how he is now and he's not worried about it. He told me he's spent too much time with Stosh to change now. Yeah, he has spent too much time with that asshole for sure, but he didn't mean it the way I do.
Anyway, after talking about doing 'it' for a week, Pat finally fucked Carl in his dorm room while his roommate was at a class. They used hand lotion for lubricant and Pat banged Carl twice in an hour. Carl told me before they tried 'it' he taught Pat what I'd showed him about kissing and that's all they did for twenty minutes. They both had boners so they finally did 'it' with, as I said, the hand lotion... Carl's roommate's hand lotion. Jergens, that's the hand lotion I think they said they used, and they had no problems at all. Very unusual for the first time, but then I don't know what kind of equipment Pat's working with. He might have a small dick or Carl might have a miracle ass that's made for fucking, like mine. Haha, hearing about it made me jealous actually. I should have taken Carl up on the offer when I had the chance.
Anyhow, Rob's still sleeping and I'm gonna let him sleep. He hasn't yet experienced feeling rested and good the way I have. We both need to relax this last day of our Christmas break. The next break isn't until the spring.
The funny thing is though, feeling good and all that, plus thinking about Carl and Pat fucking for the first time, I find I'm wicked horny. Well, that isn't surprising considering I've had no sex for almost two days. Jeez, I guess I'm not gonna let Robby sleep after all. I hope he's up for this. I ruffle his hair, quietly saying, "Robby, guess what...?" He goes, "Huh, wha...?"
to be continued...
Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com. donnymumford@outlook.com
========================================================
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
========================================================
Hey guys, how about making a small (or large, go for it!) tax deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty. They could use your help covering the expenses inherent in maintaining a free story site this size. Easy directions about how to do that on their 'home page'. Thanks!
http://donate.nifty.org