Dylans Senior Year at College

DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter. 43

by Donny Mumford

No sense in lying to myself, that text from Danny upset me. He said to get to his dorm early Saturday... if I'm a little late I could be waiting an hour or more for a haircut. Christ, I've smirked at those guys sitting on the floor leaning against the wall waiting for their turn to get a free haircut and now I'm one of them? I can't believe Danny would treat me like this.

I'm in the kitchen starting to prepare tonight's dinner thinking maybe I misread his text. Maybe it's Danny making a joke and somehow I missed it? Hell, it's not that long of a text so I reread it quickly... and no, I didn't miss anything! It's very straightforward and, damn, my face gets red and hot all over again because I'm not just 'someone' to Danny. Or am I now just someone? I can't pretend that doesn't hurt because it does. Fuck! I slam the lid on a pot of peeled potatoes... BANG! Robby looks up from his laptop and goes, "Anything wrong, Dylan?" Too loudly I say, "NO!" and then in a more normal voice, I add, "Um, I accidentally dropped the lid."

Rob gets off the sofa and comes over to me, asking, "What's for dinner, babe?" I stare at him a few seconds, thinking... 'Well, I've got Robby as my lover, friend, partner and it's Robby, so fuck you, Danny Monday!'

Oh man, grow up Dylan!

Forcing a smile, I calmly say, "We're having chicken tonight. Um, ya know, roast chicken breasts with whipped potatoes and gravy, plus coleslaw and niblet corn." He smiles back at me, mumbling, "Oh, good, I love your chicken dinners. What can I do to help?"

Danny's no Rob Dickers, that's for Goddamn sure! He couldn't wipe Robby's ass, um, if that makes any sense which I don't believe it does. I ask, "Ya wanna grate the cabbage?" Rob nods, "Sure! That's for the coleslaw, right?" I make a friendly 'face' like, 'Duh!' He chuckles, mumbling, "Yeah, what else could it be for... heh heh. Um, how would I go about doing that, babe?" He's so sweet, and just look at that face! He's preppy and handsome and...um, I go, "Well, I use a box grater." Rob's like, "Oh!" nodding his head, he looks up and down the counter and then mumbles, "Box grater, huh? Ah, I'm not exactly sure what that is." I get it out as Rob says, "Oh, yeah! Okay, I'll get the cabbage." He brings out a head of iceberg lettuce and when I give him another 'look', he mutters, "No? Haha, I know this is lettuce... I'm kidding you," and he exchanges it for the cabbage.

Good to see his sense of humor continues to develop. I show him how to cut the head of cabbage into quarters so it's easier to work with. I like showing Robby how to do stuff. Of course, it's usually something to do with cooking because he knows how to do everything else I know how to do, and some things I don't know how to do. We're a good team like that...

Robby's been rubbing his nose for the last hour or so and I'm thinking he might be coming down with a cold so, after giving it a moment's thought, I pull two vinyl disposable gloves out of a box of them and give them to him, saying, "Um, wear these so you don't get cabbage juice on your hands. It can be stinky, ya know?" He shrugs, "Oh, no, I didn't know." That's probably because I just made that bullshit up, but if he's coming down with a cold I'd rather not catch it. He pulls on the gloves and begins grating the cabbage quarters.

I use the gloves myself occasionally, like when dealing with hot cherry peppers, or any kind of hot peppers, onions, or when I'm cleaning things like, um, the toilet for one. While Rob's busy with that, l put four frozen chicken breasts in the microwave and program the 'defrost' cycle. Yeah, I'm using four big breasts even though we'll most likely only have one each. Leftover cold chicken is great to have on hand though. I can make chicken salad, always a favorite, or slice the chicken thin for chicken sandwiches with mayo and lettuce.

Standing in front of the microwave watching the chicken breasts go around and around, I'm thinking about what Rob told me this morning. He said he's known Danny for a very long time and he knows that periodically Danny will, on a whim, think he's in love... but never for very long. What? I'm one of Danny's whims? No, I don't believe that. First of all, there is no fucking way the Providence slut's rectum fits Danny's penis the way Danny's penis fits mine. Our equipment is perfect together, Danny's and mine. Gee, that sounds lame even to me.

Let's see, Danny started mistakenly thinking he was in love with me about three months ago. Three months at the most and for the record, I never wanted him to think that! Frankly, I'm almost positive he doesn't know what 'being-in-love' even means. In any case, he's been an incredibly impressive buddy-sex buddy since the day he first mentioned being in love with me. Yeah, overall, Danny's the best buddy-sex buddy I've ever had and that is no small accomplishment as I've had some really good ones. And he's somehow made me wicked fond of him too... and then he just dumps me? Well, I don't know if that's the case for sure, but it looks like he's at least demoted me to regular haircut status at the very least.

Okay, that's not the end of the world though... Maybe his interest has switched to Tom Brooker which, I gotta say is mind-numbingly stupid if that's happened. It's stupid because he's only known the Providence sex-slut a couple of days and, anyway, what's remotely special about Tom? Get fucking serious! Me jumping to conclusions like this must mean I'm jealous, and that's okay too. I'm human after all.

And then, perhaps Danny hasn't lost his mind about the slut from Providence, and maybe Tom Brooker isn't a slut in the first place although he is from Providence, unless he lied about that. If both my assumptions are incorrect and Danny hasn't dumped me and Tom isn't a sex slut, then that still begs the question why the fuck is Danny spending all his free time with him? Something doesn't add up! And no, this isn't just about me being jealous! It's more about a possible lack of common fucking sense on Danny's part and I'm worried he may have hit his head on something and has no idea what he's doing. He could be walking around with a concussion for Christ sake.

Robby asks, "Is this enough, babe?" I'm like, "Huh?" and look over. Omigod, there's this gigantic pile of shredded cabbage. He shredded the entire head! I go, "Oh jeez! Um, yeah, perfectly shredded, Rob." He goes, "That wasn't as easy as I thought it would be... haha," and he shakes his arm, muttering, "My fucking arm almost fell off." I nod my head as he smiles, asking, "So, what's the next step?" I explain the mixing of proper amounts of sugar, vinegar, and mayonnaise emphasizing it's important to make sure all the sugar has dissolved in the vinegar before adding the mayo. That's the coleslaw dressing and in case you're wondering why I don't include salt and pepper, it's because I'd rather let everyone decide for themselves how much salt and pepper they like." Robby says, "I wasn't even thinking about that, but now I see your point.

I tell him, "The proportions are always the same for the dressing's three ingredients but, obviously, we'll need to increase the size proportionately for the amount of cabbage you shredded." He goes, "Uh huh. Um, so you're saying I shredded way too much cabbage?" I go, "I'm saying I did a piss-poor job of explaining how much cabbage to shred. It's my fault!" He goes, "No problem. We'll invite the vegetarian for dinner tonight. Carl will eat most of this coleslaw himself." I laugh out loud and then say, "Excellent solution!"

Carl's usually here for our study group on weeknights anyway, except for Monday nights when Rob and I have nothing to study. We had our last study group of the week after classes last Thursday. Rob's plan of having Carl study with us has been a big success too. For Carl, I mean. His midterm grades were shit, but his final grades last semester jumped into the seventies. That's because Rob showed Carl how to study. We expect Carl's grades to be in the eighties for this semester's midterms. Oh yeah, Rob's doing a very good job of mentoring that boy, and the baseball season hasn't even started yet.

After mixing the coleslaw dressing, Robby pulls off the gloves and tosses them in the trash and then texts Carl inviting him to dinner. He gets a text back immediately: 'Thanks, Rob! When will you pick me up?' Robby chuckles and looks over at me, muttering, "Oh yeah, fuck... haha, I forgot we need to pick him up and then drive him home after dinner. As I said, Rob's got the sniffles, so I say, "I'll go get him, Rob." He makes a 'face' and mumbles, "Nah, he's my responsibility and, anyway, you're making the dinner." I can't argue with that logic. Rob blows his nose into a paper napkin as I cringe, and then he sneezes, mumbling, "I may as well go get him now." His voice sounds husky... he's definitely coming down with something and I hope it's just a cold and not the flu. It's a fact, not opinion, that Rob gets sick more than I do. Either he gets sick or he has a burst appendix or gets in a car accident. All kinds of shit happen to him, and I'm not blaming him, just saying...

Then, after sneezing twice more without effectively covering his mouth, me turning away and rolling my eyes both times, Rob's reaching for more napkins, saying, "I'll be back in a flash, babe." I can almost see the fucking germs floating in the air! And, he uses napkins to blow his nose in? Yeah, well actually, who cares? Anyway, I'm kinda glad Carl's coming for dinner because I'm curious about how he and his fuck buddy have been getting 'it' on. Not that I have any intentions of coming right out and crassly asking him that directly. There are subtle ways of finding out that kind of personal information though.

The chicken breasts have begun roasting in the oven by the time Rob gets back with Carl. I don't even ask what took them so long because I know they likely stopped to talk with other baseball players. I don't know how many guys are on the team, it may be a thousand if I can take anything from the way teammates keep popping up no matter where we go, they're all over the place.

Hmm, I see Carl has a fresh flattop haircut and I can't help but wonder if he got it Sunday? I ask, "Did you get that haircut yesterday, Carl?" He's taking off his coat, saying, "Hi, Dylan. Um, no not yesterday. I got my hair cut on Saturday. Danny said he's not doing haircuts on Sundays. Not for a while anyway. He's helping some new guy do something the next couple of Sundays." Oh? I pretend I'm not interested, mumbling, "Huh, ya don't say?" Carl nods his head as he watches me pour frozen corn into a pan of water. He says, "Yeah, Danny's showing the new guy around or something. And I met him, Danny introduced me to the new guy. Hey, he lives in this building I think. Do you know him? His name is Tom, um, something." I'm like, "Oh, yeah, Rob and I met him. He's always smiling, right?" Carl mumbles, "Uh huh, he seems very nice." I'm like, "Christ though, I can't imagine what Danny's showing him since Rob and I wasted, I mean spent the better part of a day driving Tom around campus."

Carl has nothing to say to that, so I go, "Yo, Rob, what's that new guy's last name?" Rob, who's hanging his coat up, says, "Brooker, Tom Brooker," and Carl, having lost interest in the new guy, asks, "What smells so good?" Robby walks over to us, muttering, "Don't concern yourself with what smells good, Carl, 'cause that smell is a murdered animal that's currently being roasted in the oven, an innocent chicken that had its head cut off. It's a meat product though, and I don't believe it's part of your diet." Carl grins, mumbling, "Murdering a helpless chicken... barbaric," and Rob goes, "Tonight I killed a head of cabbage. The cabbage was a living thing growing without a care before a farmer abruptly cut it off at the root. I finished it off by shredding it so you can have a coleslaw dinner. Do you wanna smell it? No wait, ya better not... cabbage stinks. Um, as opposed to the smell of roasting chicken."

Carl looks at me with a quizzical expression on his youthfully cute face, and I go, "Yep, Rob made the coleslaw just for you, Carl." Brightening up, Carl says, "I love coleslaw." I laugh and then tell him, "Your dinner is not just coleslaw, Carl. I'm cooking ravioli for you. Ricotta cheese and spinach ravioli with tomato sauce, compliments of Stouffer's. In other words, I'm boiling a frozen product in a plastic bag but we've had it for dinner ourselves and it's very good. That, and of course your normal four Italian rolls with a quarter-pound of butter, and the coleslaw. As much coleslaw as you want."

Carl pats my shoulder, saying, "You're awesome, Dylan! Both you guys are, and I'm gonna be so lost without you guys next year." Robby's getting out his cocktail shaker, saying, "You'll be fine next year, Carl," and to me, he says, "I'm feeling the need for a Manhattan cocktail before dinner, babe. Whiskey seems just the thing to combat my cold symptoms. Do you wanna join me?" I nod, "Yeah, thanks," and as Robby blows his nose into a paper towel, me trying not to cringe again, I'm like, "Just one Manhattan for me though and, um, I'll get the ice." I'd rather he didn't touch anything that's going into my mouth if ya know what I mean.

Carl asks, "Are you getting a cold, Rob?" Rob's measuring out shots of VO whiskey, four-to-one... four of VO to one of sweet vermouth. He pours both liquors into the shaker that I've filled with ice. Grinning at Carl, Rob says sarcastically, "Whatever gave you the idea I'm coming down with a cold, Carl? You should be in pre-med." Carl goes, "That's what my mom always says." What? Carl's struggling with a physical education degree never mind pre-med. Mothers, ya know?

It's kinda funny how Rob's getting more like his dad with the Manhattans before dinner. And, haha, that reminds me of that slut from Providence saying he'll hold off on drinking Manhattans until he's forty years old. That was kinda funny actually, but are Manhattan cocktails mostly for old people? I didn't know that.

The dinner is very good even if I do say so myself and during it, I easily find an opportunity to slip in my subtle inquiry, "Um, Carl, how's that buddy in your dormitory working out for you?" Carl's overly-buttering a roll, as he goes, "Do you mean Pat Martinez?" I go, "Yeah, I believe that's who I mean, assuming he's the one fucking you." Robby goes, "DYLAN!! What the hell...?" but Carl laughs and then says, "Yeah, he's great. We do 'it' all the time now, like twice a week." Haha, all the time is twice a week!

He adds in a serious tone of voice, "You'd think my, um, rear would get sore, wouldn't ya? It doesn't though." I'm like, "No shit! Good for you guys." and he grins now, saying, "Pat and I both laugh at how sort of sick it is but, ya know, he's got the condom on and when he really gets going there's no laughing 'cause it feels better than I ever expected it would." Robby and I snort out laughs and then Rob says, "Yeah, it is awesomely 'sick' alright."

Oh man, I can picture those two kids fucking and I gotta admit... I REALLY shouldn't have passed up on that opportunity with Carl. Christ, he presented his cherry to me on a silver platter, so to speak. And especially now with this new development of me probably getting dumped by Danny and replaced by the Providence slut. Ya know, I'm thinking I could have had a nice little side deal fucking Carl. Shoulda, woulda, coulda, ya know? Hey, I've got a better idea! I'll steal Pat Martinez from Carl and then Pat can fuck my brains out. I'm pretty sure my rear won't hurt either. Hmm, I wonder what kind of equipment Pat's working with, and how I can subtly find that out from Carl?

We make it an early night and after Rob drives Carl back to his dorm, he and I get to bed and only spend maybe fifteen minutes giggling and sexily messing around and then as Carl said, the giggling stops when we really get into it. Damn, that felt good! We were super conscious about Rob not spreading his germs, meaning we avoided kissing even though that's the best parts of 'messing around'. I mean before having sex. The sex is obviously the best part.

Next morning, because of a good night's sleep, plus we only had the one Manhattan each before dinner, we're ready to start another week of our last college semester. This semester our 'week' begins each Tuesday and we're in good shape for it too, or at least I am. Rob's dealing with his cold which isn't pleasant for either of us, but mostly it isn't pleasant for him. I'll probably end up with his cold but I'm doing what I can to fight the odds... so maybe I won't end up with a cold. Long odds against that optimism, obviously.

Tuesday is a normal college day until it begins snowing in the afternoon and then continues doing that overnight. Wednesday morning there's eight inches of snow on the ground which means eight inches of snow on the pickup too. Rob and I make a 'face' at each other as we're looking out the window. Shaking our head, we get started earlier than usual this morning because we need to clean all that fucking snow off our ride.

It's a bitterly cold morning but we're dressed for it. We climb over piles of snow getting to the truck and then Rob starts the engine to let it warm up in the cab. We put our backpacks on the backseat and then begin cleaning the snow off the truck. As I said, it's cold as a bitch but there are blue skies up above and the sun is out although it's shining weakly.

We both have one of those long-handled brush/scraper thingies and in a few minutes, we've cleaned the snow off the front of the truck including the windshield and side windows. We both scramble inside the truck cursing the cold. We sit here waiting for the defroster to melt the ice under the snow we couldn't get off the windshield. Rob's shaking his head muttering, "So much for my idea of playing three-inning games of winter baseball." I go, "Maybe a warming trend will come in later this week to melt all this snow." He gives me a 'look' because we both know that's not happening.

Rob's disappointed so I figure it's best if I just drop the subject entirely. Frankly, I never understood how he thought winter baseball in New England could possibly work, although I wish it would have for his sake. And then Rob wistfully mutters, "It was a stupid fucking idea in the first place." I say, "No, you were fooled by the relatively mild winter, that's what happened." He sighs and repeats, "A monumental dumb-ass idea." Well, yeah, it was.

Then, with a shrug, 'cause whaddaya gonna do, Rob drives over a big pile of snow getting out of the parking spot. That was no problem with our heavy pickup but some of these cars around us are gonna have a problem getting out. The exit lanes in the parking lot were plowed which pushed snow up against the front and backs of the parked cars creating the pile of snow Rob just drove over.

The roads within the apartment complex are plowed and so are the roads on campus, and I suppose the roads throughout the town although we have no intention of driving on them. Plus, as I said, it's very cold and windy and some snow has blown back onto the roads which makes for slow driving through the apartment complex and then we find the exact same conditions on campus.

After all my bitching about the weather, this first real snowstorm of the year in some ways is pretty. I mean the way it coats everything with bright white snow making the world appear clean and new, although I know it's not. Merrimack's parking lots have been plowed but the piles of snow from the plowing eliminate a quarter of the parking spaces so parking is tight. Still, as we walk to class we see most of our fellow students smiling. After one or two more storms the charm of this first snow will be long forgotten as will the smiles. We'll all be in bitchy moods longing for spring. For now though, even though the sidewalks are treacherous and especially the steps, everyone seems to be taking the inconvenience in stride. There are, however, some students slipping and falling on their ass and it's hard not to laugh when you see that happen, although it won't be as funny if it happens to us.

The other major problem is Rob's dealing with a full-blown winter cold now. Yeah, no more sniffles, his cold fully materialized overnight in the form of more sneezing but mostly it's the coughing and constantly runny nose. And then this morning he's complaining of a sore throat that's so bad it's hard for him to swallow. Rob's a bit of a complainer when he's ill so I scrounged around this morning and found some Tylenol Cold Medicine. It's a few months passed its use-by-date but he took two pills anyway... the medicine hasn't noticeably helped so far.

After class, I guess I will see what the roads are like in town after all. Yeah, I'll be driving to get new cold medicine. I'll only need to drive on Route 114 though because that's conveniently where the Rite Aid drugstore is located. Its two miles down from the college. Cold medicine doesn't cure a cold, obviously, but it relieves the symptoms... some of them, sometimes.

We somehow get through both classes, Robby passing on a legitimate reason for not going. During our second class he was using those brown rough paper towels from the men's room as Kleenex to blow his nose in. Yeah, his handkerchief and the packet of Kleenex he brought with him got, um, filled up. That's gross, I know! The common cold tends to be gross. Now Rob's nose is red and raw looking too... poor guy!

After class Rob doesn't even pretend to protest that I'm dropping him off at the apartment before I drive to the Rite Aid drugstore. I go inside the apartment with him and offer to make that box Lipton soup we always have when either of us has a cold, but he just wants to get in bed. His head is aching now along with all the other horrible shit that goes with a bad cold. He's shivering so he puts on a pair of pajamas, a rare event, and when he's in bed under the covers I put the heavy quilt from the closet on top of the covers. I never took my coat off and, with Rob settled in bed, I'm right back outside.

Actually, I'm glad to get away for twenty minutes. Outside it feels good to inhale germ-free air. Anyway, as I said, the Rite Aid drugstore is down Route 114 about two miles and the road is mostly clear of snow by now so it's no problem getting there. Inside the drugstore, I'm looking at all the cold medicines and there are quite a few of them. I'm trying to decide which one is the best, but reading the labels they all appear to have basically the same ingredients. The ingredients, by the way, I couldn't pronounce if a pharmacist had a gun to my head. The different brands of cold medicine are basically the same so it boils down to how much the almost identical medicines cost. After wasting fifteen minutes of my life checking everything out, I stick with the product we've bought in the past; Tylenol Cold Medicine. I pick a box off the shelf that comes in gel pill form, not liquid! We've tried the liquid and found it to be seriously gag-inducing, and who needs that with all the other shit you're dealing with when you've got a cold? Then I pick up a couple of other items relevant to Rob's condition and, after looking around a bit, I decide I've got all I need for now.

Carrying my purchases, I'm walking up the aisle and when I look up it's like... well, look at him! There's a new clerk at the Rite Aid register. Omigod, I'm glad I came to this drugstore. Yeah, what a cute guy! He's the cutest black guy I think I've ever seen, and I've seen some cute ones in my travels. This guy, his name tag says 'George' although he doesn't look like a George, is a little taller than me and slim. Yeah, I said black but he isn't black any more than I'm white. George has milk-chocolate brown skin and straight brown hair that's cut short and looks really cool on his perfectly shaped head. Big brown pretty eyes that shine as he watches me approaching the register. I'm the only customer in here I think.

Oh my, this guy has a mixture of facial features that work awesomely together. Oh yeah, this is an uber-attractive lad! The melanin in his skin has resulted in that pretty shade of brown skin tone that's kinda striking. Obviously, I have less melanin in my skin and therefore I'm light skinned but I'm not white, not ivory like genotypes from Scandinavia for example. Redheads sometimes have all the melanin concentrated in spots on their skin that most people call freckles... but why am I thinking about this now?

With a super-friendly smile, George asks, "Did you find everything you need?" I can't help but smile back at this pretty lad's sincere question, as I say, "Yes I did! And thanks for asking George." Jesus, realizing I'm overdoing the smiling, I bring it down a few notches to a friendly expression as I'm putting two boxes of Kleenex, the over-priced cold medicine, plus a bag of cherry flavored cough drops on the counter. He goes, "Are you coming down with a cold?" I stupidly laugh out loud, but 'c'mon... he said that with such sincere concern it caught me off guard. Plus, for a split-second, I thought he was joking.

Gathering my senses, I'm like, "Oh, man, haha, excuse me for laughing. It wasn't at you! Um, it's just that I'm not used to such a professional register, um, clerk. Is that your job title, clerk, or I don't know much about job titles, um...?" He says, "I don't know anything about job titles either. This is the first job I've ever had. I'm not sure..." I shrug, "It's a word, nothing more, ya know?" He goes, "This is my first day working here too. My first day on the job and the lady who hired me had car trouble this morning and she isn't even here. The pharmacist told me to just do the best I can." Wow, his teeth are the whitest white I've ever seen, and I'd love to kiss those lips of his. I need to get a grip... cool it!

Oh man, I can just tell this kid is super fucking conscientious too. He's trying to do what the pharmacist said. The pharmacist is an asshole by the way. I mean, he should have given George more help than just saying... Do the best you can. That isn't all that helpful. I go, "Anyway, no, I'm not coming down with a cold myself. It's my roommate who has a bad cold. Um, are you, ah, a college student by any chance?" He goes, "Next year I will be. I just got accepted to the University of Pennsylvania for next fall's semester." Holy shit! He must be wicked smart too, plus his parents gotta be rich. Lucky fucker.

George adds, "I'm finishing up my high school senior year now, um, at Andover High," and then he chuckles nervously, probably worried he's providing too much information. I mutter, "Oh, that's a shame," and he gives me a quizzical grinning-frown. Oh, fuck, I was hoping he was a little older but I realize almost immediately my response of, 'that's a shame' makes no fucking sense whatsoever, so I quickly add, "No, I mean it's a shame you need to wait until the fall. And good luck at that prestigious Ivy League university!" Jeez, Andover, huh? That's a rich town partially bordering North Andover, so I was right about his family having big bucks. Andover is mostly expensive houses whereas North Andover is where the middle-class families live, for the most part.

Fuck, so George is probably only eighteen. I was hoping he was nineteen at least, although he doesn't even look eighteen. Still, I'm enjoying seeing his cute face and his bubbly innocent personality... he's perking my spirits up. I haven't seen a legitimately cute guy like George... well, I don't know how fucking long it's been.

I watch him punching the computer/register, whatever it's called, adding up my purchases, as I ask, "How often will you be working here?" I ask him because, naturally, I'll want to come in when he's working. George says, "Three days a week after school, and two Sundays a month." I go, "Same days, same times I assume?" He goes, "No, it changes from week to week. Regina and I will be switching days, I guess. She's the other part-timer." Totally uninterested in her, I mumble, "Regina, huh?" He nods and says, "Yes, Regina Mars. She's a working-mom who must be at least forty." I laugh out loud again. I'm giddy from looking at this kid plus, the way he said, 'at least forty'... haha. Huh, yeah... I don't know why I thought that was funny.

Then I need to say again, "I wasn't laughing at you, George. You're the best, um, sales representative they've ever had in here." He does his automatic smile as he's putting my items in a bag. When he puts the bag on the counter he smiles and says, "So, you've promoted me already. I'm moving up from clerk to sales rep now." I'm like, "Huh? Oh, I see. Haha, yeah, you're going places George, I can tell." He says, "That'll be $15.72." I give him a twenty and as he gives me the change, he says, "I don't mean to be pushy or rude, but haven't I seen your picture in People magazine. Are you in the movies or in a rock band maybe?" Shaking my head 'no', I go, "Why yes I am," and laugh again, adding, "No, I'm bull-shitting you, George. I'm not either of those desirable, um, celebrity, um, type people. I'm a senior at Merrimack. You, on the other hand, your picture is gonna be in magazines all over the place," and I shoot him with my index finger and thumb as I leave.

Goddamn, I acted like a jerk-off in there, but I don't care. George brightened my day! I'll probably be buying stuff in Rite Aid a few times a week now. It's a bitch George is so young though... dammit! Driving back to the apartment I'm smiling my ass off. It'd be so cool if I was in People magazine and I could tell George... well, um... yeah, what the hell could I tell him? I mean, every-fucking-body in the world is eventually in People magazine! The crazy thing about that is, whenever I read a copy of People magazine, which is almost exclusively when I'm waiting to get my teeth cleaned twice a year at the dentist, I'm like... who are these fucking people? I don't know most of them, but then I don't actually watch TV except for sports, and movies on cable once in a while. The magazine is full of people I've never heard of and then the Royal Family, of course. Lots of pictures of Britain's Royals in every People magazine. Why that is I have no fucking idea.

Back inside the apartment, I look in on Robby and see he's sleeping soundly so I put my purchases on the kitchen bar and relax. After reading my book for an hour and then spending five minutes looking out at the snow in the woods behind our building, I get so bored I begin working on tomorrow's homework assignments. I'm pretty sure Robby will insist on going to Thursday's class no matter how horrible he feels.

While working on the assignments, I get calls from Chubby and my mom about the snowstorm. We reassure each other we're fine, and then there's a call from Carl asking if he should skip tonight's study group. Obviously, yes he should! And then two calls on Rob's cell phone from guys who want him to do something in the snow, although I'm not sure exactly what. I tell the guys, both of them baseball players, that Rob's sick and can't go out and play this afternoon. No call from Danny but then phones work both ways, so I could call him. I decide not to and then I wonder if Tom is upstairs in his efficiency apartment. I don't do anything about finding that out but, Jesus, did I think he might be at Danny's and Specks' dorm room? No, I'm not that paranoid!

Looking out the window again I have a thought, it's one I had earlier today and it's that all this snow somehow makes everything seem silently peaceful and clean, although I know the world isn't like that at all. The snow stopped early this morning but nothing is moving outside except the wind that keeps gusting and blowing snow into oddly-shaped snow drifts.

I eat a cold chicken sandwich for dinner. When Rob's awake I make the Lipton box chicken soup for him and then we watch a college basketball game on TV before Rob goes back to sleep. Since yesterday afternoon I've been using lots of hand sanitizer and I plan on doing that for a week, plus I'm sleeping on the sofa tonight. Both efforts, probably futile, are to avoid catching Rob's cold.

I say futile because Rob was contagious a day before he even realized he had a cold, and he'll remain contagious for at least five more days. Sometimes a person is contagious even longer than that. Basically, 'they', whoever 'they' are who are supposedly working on finding cures for stuff, haven't discovered shit about the common cold. That's except for the fact, as everyone knows, colds are usually passed from hand to hand contact or contact with a doorknob, or anything actually, that someone with a cold touched... and therefore I'm using the hand sanitizer like a madman.

Me sleeping on the sofa is for both our benefits. Rob's coughing keeps me awake which makes him feel guilty for a minute but then he goes right back to sleep whereas I don't because I'm not sick. So, to save him from needing to worry about keeping me awake and so I'll get a good night's sleep, I'm sleeping out here on the sofa. It's an almost new sofa anyway, plus we sterilized that one suspicious stain the first day we were here. It's very clean now except for the stain on the arm I'm responsible for, and I'm not worried about that. After putting sheets and a blanket, plus my pillow, on the sofa, I fall asleep at eleven o'clock.

Thursday morning, as I expected, Rob's into his martyr routine insisting on going to class even though he's obviously too sick for that. Not one other person out of a hundred would go to class in his condition. He mumbled that he'll have four days after today to recover, meaning our four day weekend. It's a crying shame wasting our four-day weekend getting over a cold, but what other option do either of us have. He sees me overdoing the hand sanitizer and mutters, "I hope it works, babe." Other than that we don't do much talking. His sore throat is probably the worst part of his cold symptoms right now, although his runny nose, headache, watery eyes, sore muscles, and coughing up horrid, um, stuff that's best not described aren't so great either.

The smarter students do not sit close to us during class, a class that we somehow get through. Last night after doing the homework assignment, I copied it for Rob's paper so he has his assignment to turn in too. By typing the reports into my computer and printing it out I eliminated the possibility the professor will recognize similar handwriting. Just one more advantage of the computer age. After class, we're right back to the apartment and the rest of Thursday goes very much as it did yesterday for both of us. I do what I can for Rob but there isn't a helluva lot you can do about a cold except take the cold medicine and wait it out. He switches from napping on the sofa and then napping on our bed, I suppose to break up the napping monotony.

When I can't stand not doing anything in the confines of our germ infested apartment another minute, I go outside and take a walk. Trudging through the snow I walk almost to Route 114, getting close enough that I can see the campus. I'm missing Danny and missing getting laid by him, but I'm missing Robby's and my awesome sex the most. Missing both is, um... not pleasant. It's been weeks since Danny and I were together and it's now going on four days since Rob and I did 'it', as Carl says. He said the 'fuck' word once and since then he refers to fucking as 'it'. Other people do too, including me sometimes. Screwing Pony, while enjoyable, doesn't scratch the itch in my ass and, anyway, Pony and I haven't fucked since a week ago last Wednesday. Yeah, while I'm pretty much a committed 'bottom', at this point any kind of sex would be appreciated.

While I'm admitting things, I may as well also admit I've been spoiled rotten from all the awesome sex Rob and I do, and then add to that the best buddy sex I've ever had with Danny. Being spoiled by all that special sex I sometimes fall into the habit of taking it for granted and although I've always acknowledged I'm lucky, it doesn't resonate with me just how lucky I am until I'm not getting any of 'it'. And I admit it's pathetic of me that I can't go without sex for this relatively short period of time without feeling sorry for myself.

Standing here amongst the barren trees looking at the campus I take my gloves off and, without thinking much about it, take out my cell phone and call Danny. He answers, "Hey, baby, I've been thinking about you. Where ya been?" I'm stunned that I called him, so I stutter, "Um, ah... how 'bout this fucked-up snowstorm!" Danny says, "Yeah, I used it as an excuse to cut classes today. Hey, didn't anyone call you or Rob? We're gonna play football in the fucking snow tomorrow. Can you guys give a shout-out to Brooker about that? I somehow lost his number or something." Danny doesn't sound right.

I ask, "Have you been drinking?" He goes, "Yeah, Specks brought a six-pack of Coors back with him from Worcester last Sunday night and we're just getting around to drinking it. We put it on the windowsill... in the snow." I mutter, "Oh, yeah?" and he says, "And there's something fucked-up with the heating in this entire dormitory, in most of the dormitories. Something froze up so, haha, we're in bed together, Specks and me, trying to keep warm but we aren't doing anything sexy... yet." I hear Specks yell, "HI, Dylan. And we ain't gonna be doing anything sexy either." Oh...

After telling Danny that Rob's sick and we won't be playing football in the snow for a while, I'm like, "Um, Danny, about my haircut..." but all I hear is Specks giggling and then he's yelling, "Stop that, you perv!" Danny's laughing his nuts off so I wait until he's done doing that. Then, before I can say more, he goes, "Oh fuck, you should join us, Dylan? Get in bed with us and feel Specks' baby fat around his waist." and they're laughing again. When they stop laughing, I mutter, "As I said, Rob's sick so I can't come out and play. I'll talk to you later," and I hit 'end' before hearing what, if anything, he has to say to that. I can't believe I stooped so low as to bring up needing a haircut just to get Danny's attention... and that didn't even work!

Oh, man, I put my phone in my pocket, pull my gloves back on and then walk through the trees to the road, and then a half mile or so back to the apartment. Danny was a little drunk but other than that he seemed, um, like himself. Like he gets when he's in one of his silly moods. It didn't sound like he's about to dump me. He sounded glad to hear from me. Hell, he never calls or texts anyway! Not under the best circumstances. He did mention the Providence slut though. That's if it turns out Tom is a slut. Hmm?

Still, I gotta ask myself again, why else would Danny be spending so much time with Tom if he, Tom, isn't putting out? Um, except there are a hundred possible answers to that question, ones that could apply to most guys who aren't as over-sexed as I am. Most guys have other things on their minds. Other things besides fucking... lots of other things, like getting in bed with their roommate and getting drunk because the heater's fucked up in their dormitory, like that. And without fucking each other.

When I'm back inside the apartment I see Robby in his pajamas with a blanket around him. He's looking in the refrigerator. He turns and asks in his very husky voice, "Don't we have any Cokes left?" I nod at the pantry, mumbling, "Yeah, we do but they're still warm. There's a six-pack in there, in the pantry. I still haven't put them in the fucking refrigerator." He makes a 'face' asking, "What's wrong?" I shrug, "Nothing's wrong." He says, "You look like something's bothering you. I hope it isn't the soda. Forget the Cokes. I didn't put them in the refrigerator either," and he gets the Cokes and puts them the refrigerator, adding, "I like a warm can of Coke anyway."

Taking off my coat, I ask, "Feeling any better?" He swallows two more of the new Tylenol Cold Medicine pills and makes a 'face' because I assume it hurts him to swallow, and then he mutters, "My throat isn't quite as sore as it was this morning, but other than that, no, I'm not feeling any better." I mutter, "Oh, sorry, I was hoping you'd..." and he's like, "Isn't it possible to turn the fucking thermostat up in this dump?" I go, "Nope, I've got it set at eighty degrees. I don't think it's responding though." I go over and tap the thermostat, saying, "It reads seventy-five degrees. That's pretty warm." He mutters, "Why am I'm freezing my ass off then?" What a grump!

Sighing, I ask, "Um, can I make you some hot tea or soup maybe?" He shakes his head, "This fucking cold is a bitch! Whatever happened to just having a runny nose and that's about it when you have a cold? Nowadays it's like you need an emergency room visit... oh, never mind. This sucks and I've got like another four or five days to deal with it." I tell him about the guys who called asking for him, and then about the football game in the snow that Danny mentioned. Robby goes, "Yeah? Fuck, that sounds like fun. Football in the snow! Where, at the soccer field?" I shrug, muttering, "Probably," and then tell him about Danny's dormitory not having heat and how he's in bed with Specks trying to stay warm while getting drunk. That sounds like fun too.

Then, that night, Thursday night, we get a Nor'easter. That's a storm with strong winds from the northeast blowing off the Atlantic Ocean. Nor'easters usually are associated, but not always, with heavy snowfall and coastal flooding. I turn on the local news and they say this particular nor'easter is forecasted to bring a foot of snow with it. Yeah, dropping another foot of snow after the recent eight inches we got hit with Tuesday, plus wind gusts up to fifty miles an hour creating drifts six feet high in some areas. That's just great! The roads and sidewalks are barely cleared from the last snowstorm, and now this horseshit. Why in the fuck do we live here anyway? Christ!

The winds howl and the snow falls all night long and then nothing moves the next day. The snow looks deeper than a foot when I look out the window. Classes are canceled because there's no way to get to them. Actually, the storm has little to no impact on Rob and me. We don't have a class on Friday and we weren't going out anyway, not that we could even if we wanted to now.

I don't even think about going out of the apartment until Saturday afternoon and then only to try getting the snow off the pickup. Lots of people are doing that and an older guy lends me his snow shovel so I can try to dig a path in front of the pickup to the lane that leads to the road. I'm partially successful but shoveling snow is heavy lifting! It's especially a bitch because the temperature has risen into the low forties and it's sunny today which has melted the top layer of snow, compacting it and making it wicked heavy to shovel. What's the sense bitching about it though? I'm sweating like mad by the time I go back inside. Sweat running down my face, snow melting off me... and Rob's sleeping again.

Slowly the maintenance people clear the roads and dig pathways from the front door and lay salt on the steps and whatever the hell else they do. I assume the same things are taking place on campus and throughout the whole Northeast for that matter. By the following Tuesday morning, after a boring four day weekend that, for the most part, we spent inside, Rob and I are once again going to class. Rob's much better but still coughing and still bitching up a storm. I don't blame him but it hasn't been a fun five days for me because, no matter how much I love Robby, he's a pain in the ass when he's sick or hurt.

Yeah, but the silver lining, a very unexpected one, is that I'm not personally noticing any symptoms of Rob's cold. It's almost a miracle I haven't caught his cold but it's a miracle that I helped facilitate with my conscientious use of the hand sanitizer, sleeping on the sofa, and being very careful not to have any mouth to mouth contact with my patient. That right there is probably good advice for all nurses... don't make-out with any of your patients who have communicable diseases. I'll include that tip in my book when I get around to writing it.

I turned down a half-dozen or more requests from guys to visit the sick boy over the weekend. I didn't want company because Rob looked like shit and by then I did too, plus Rob was still contagious. Mostly though, I politely said no thanks to guys wanting to visit because a sick person doesn't want company. Ya know, poor Rob was coughing up disgusting shit and blowing his nose every two minutes and complaining, and with all that going on he doesn't need to be entertaining visitors all of whom will ask questions like, 'how ya feeling, Rob?' They mean well and their good intentions are appreciated, but I just put them all off.

There were a couple of nice gestures though. One was Tom Brooker Saturday afternoon bringing us a lasagna platter big enough to serve six. He drove to Whole Foods in Andover to buy that take-out casserole. He told me he got his SUV dug out Saturday morning and then the main roads weren't bad. He can't cook and therefore the take-out food. And, damn, that shit was GOOD too! Well, Rob didn't have much of it but I sure did. I took the opportunity to ask Tom how Danny's doing and Tom was quite effusive about what a great guy Danny is. No details of course as to exactly what makes Danny a great guy, and I'm not one who pries into other people's business. Well, actually I pried a little asking, "Whaddaya mean, Danny's a great guy?" and Tom said something about him not needing to tell me what a great guy Danny is. Which didn't tell me shit, obviously. Yeah, but does his comment mean Danny's telling Tom stuff about us, about Danny and me?

Oh, and an hour after Tom dropped off the food Chubby brought over a case of beer and a bottle of bourbon for the sick boy. He meant for me, of course, because beer and bourbon are the last things Rob wanted. And, before the nor'easter hit, Carl brought over a cake he said he bought at the same expensive bakery he got that cake for the dinner party we had months ago. What's with Carl and fucking cakes? Christ, I ate the whole thing in three equal portions between Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. It was by far the best thing about those horrid days stuck inside with a sick person, that and drinking shots of bourbon and cans of beers to compensate for my patient's bad behavior. Jesus, he looked eatable too... Carl, I mean. And again I thought... I should have fucked him when I had the chance! That's a little off-topic perhaps, but sex is sort of on my mind...

Anyway, we've survived and we're walking through the dirty snow and trudging over snow drifts to our first class Tuesday when Danny comes up behind us and hugs both our shoulders. I resist acting petulant about him ignoring me for almost four weeks and I'm also overlooking that insulting text he sent me about getting to his dorm barbershop early to avoid the rush. I avoided it alright... I didn't go at all.

Rob's still got a cough and his voice is husky, kinda sexy sounding actually. So while Rob's coughing I give Danny a hug and say, "Christ, Danny, you look, um, pretty, um, good." I'm strangely nervous now that he's actually right here. He goes, "That's 'cause you're comparing me to poor Rob who looks like shit." He pats Rob on the back, asking, "How ya feeling, Rob? Ya look like shit." We can't help but laugh at Danny's compassion and then I realize I'm still clinging to him. When I let go him, Danny grins knowingly at me and pats my cheek. Gulping, I ask, "What are you doing out in this shitty weather so early, Danny? You don't have a class this morning." He goes, "You're right, but I'm on my way to the ballpark," and he brightens up even more when, turning to Rob, he says, "Oh, and Rob, get this! The new equipment for the exercise room was delivered and there's a new big-ass shiny hot tub too." Robby says, "No shit? Maybe I'll check it out after class."

Two guys, who are both bundled up with scarves covering their chins and knit caps pulled down over their ears until they're basically unrecognizable come jogging up, asking, "How you girls dealing with the nasty weather?" Their faces are covered up like they're about to rob a bank but I probably don't know them anyway... ballplayers probably.

One of the guys pats Rob's back, saying, "Christ, I thought you died, Dickers." Rob and the two guys talk at each other all at once as I say to Danny, "Um, are you mad at me?" He goes, "What the fuck you talking about, baby? I love you." I'm like, "No, don't say that. I mean, um, I haven't seen you or, you know, been alone with you in almost a month." He puts his arms around me and rocks me side to side, murmuring, "Ah, you miss me, don'cha? I miss you too, baby," and then one of the bundled-up guys, the big mouth one, says, "Yo, Monday, did ya hear we got new equipment to work out on?" Danny lets go of me and says, "I've already seen it, ya dumb fuck. I was the guy who texted Rickie about it this morning," and he points at the quiet bundled-up guy, who says, "Yeah, thanks, Danny. Oh, I wanted to ask you. Um, can my brother, he's visiting me this weekend, can he get a free haircut too?" Danny goes, "What the fuck ya think this is..."

I don't hear the rest because Robby says, "C'mon Dylan, we'll be late," and we jog the last block and then walk inside the lecture hall with two minutes to spare. I'm thinking that Danny's giving me mixed signals. Not that I think he's doing it on purpose... that's just something he does without realizing it. Never mind that though 'cause I think we're still good! Yeah, I think Danny and I are still copacetic. Hell, me needing to stay in the last five days with Rob isn't Danny's fault. Jeez, am I making excuses for him now? How about the other three weeks? I guess it's best if I simply overlook that because I very much want Danny and me to still be, um, like we were.

Tuesday plods along with us staying inside the apartment again after class. Then, after a pretty good night's sleep, I wake up Wednesday morning and lie in bed thinking about things. Hmm, I'm thinking while it's a bit of a slippery slope perhaps, I better start doing a better job of showing Danny how much he means to me. He could replace my ass as his best buddy-sex buddy in ten-minutes if he wanted to, that's how hot and sexy and good looking he is. And that's assuming he hasn't already replaced me with the Providence sex slut, which I don't believe he has... yet.

Yeah, I'm just realizing there's a real potential of the Providence slut moving in on Danny if I'm not proactive. Christ, I get a shiver from just thinking about clinging to Danny yesterday afternoon before Rob's and my first class. Oh man, I've still got it bad for him, nothing new there except I need to be more forthcoming about my feelings. Let him know how important he is to me and get in between that slut Tom and Danny. Being passive isn't working and God knows, Tom is aggressively after innocent Danny who obviously doesn't recognize what a schemer Tom is. I've been way too blasé about Danny telling me how he loves me... and how special I am, and blah, blah, blah. He's pretty fucking special himself and I need him to know that I think so.

Okay, this coming Saturday I'm doing what he's told me to do for a few weeks now. I'm getting to his dorm room early for a haircut and just waiting my turn. The last haircut I got from Danny was the first week of Christmas vacation and now it's already the last week of January. That's almost five weeks ago. Robby too... and the same for when I gave Danny his last haircut, for that matter. It's funny, as in odd, that he hasn't been hounding me about it being past due for my haircut like he always used to do. He's still doing fifty haircuts a month, so it's not as if he's lost interest in it.

Then there's that awkward information Robby told me about Danny's M.O. in matters of the heart. Danny's been known to have fleeting bouts of, um, thinking he's in love. I need to give him a reason for still being in love, I mean a reason for not losing interest in me. I mean, he's not 'in love' with me but he loves me. The slippery slope is me being more appreciative of Danny without him misinterpreting my extra, um, appreciativeness. If I lose Danny as my fuck buddy I'm gonna be hurting for side-sex the rest of this semester, but it isn't just that! I mean, Danny and I have something much better than generic side-sex. We have the best buddy sex EVER! And there's love involved too, different kinds of love. No way am I just one of his normal whims!

Anyway, last night our study group lasted longer than usual because Robby's still dealing with his cold and he did everything slowly but we got done what we needed to do and then Rob went right to bed. I drove Carl back to his dorm and took the opportunity to get a little inside information about exactly what he and Pat Martinez are doing sex-wise. I'm curious so I was hoping maybe I'd get an indication of the equipment Pat's working with, ya know? What happened was, while Carl seemed to talk freely about him and Pat doing this and that, he did so in the most general terms imaginable and he uses euphemisms to a degree that sometimes I didn't know what he even meant. So, no juicy details about the interesting stuff. I've been without sex of any kind for so long even details of someone else having sex intrigues me. Talking to Carl I just wanted some reassurances that somebody's still doing 'it'.

Hmm, later this afternoon Pony and I finally have the opportunity to fuck and, let me tell ya, I'm gonna fuck him more than once and do it as if it's the last fucks of my life. As I've said, the 'topping' I do with him isn't the same sexual thrill as I get when I'm the 'bottom' guy, but it ain't bad either. I've had some damn good climaxes being a 'top'. As for Robby and me, sexually speaking, I wanna be realistic. It probably won't be tonight, but by Thursday night Robby should be good to go without him being contagious. It's getting to the point where I'm willing to risk coming down with the nasty strain of cold virus Rob's had, you know if it means getting fucked. I'm sure he's also starting to think about sex again now that he's on the mend.

So, okay I've got some things to look forward to but I gotta figure out this Danny puzzle too. He obviously knows how aroused he can get me but I never verbalize how special I think he is. I can't ignore the likelihood Danny's been banging Tom Brooker, but then again... maybe he isn't. Or is that wishful thinking on my part? When I get right down to it, it really doesn't matter if he is or isn't, Danny still deserves to know that I think he's awesome. I've told him we're the best buddy sex buddies in the world but that includes me. I need to speak about him specifically because he's the main participant, he's the number one reason for us being number one in the world. He's the 'top', he's the one who leads us and he's dominant about it too in his own way, but in the nicest possible manner. Christ, I'm getting a hard-on lying here in bed thinking about him. Yes, I'm off the sofa and back sleeping in bed with Robby. I missed being in bed with him.

Well, getting this boner is not just from thinking about Danny, I'm also excited about finally having a legitimate chance for sex this afternoon. Sure, it's with Pony but it'll be my first sex in eight days, or is it nine? Then maybe Robby tomorrow night and then my plan is to forget my pride confessing to Danny how much he means to me... see, I'm getting optimistic about life once again. It is an undeniable concern, however, that Danny hasn't had much of a problem doing without me this past month, so I need to remind him I'm special to him. It hurts that he's doing fine without me.

Anyway, there are good possibilities on the horizon! I get out of bed this Wednesday morning in a jollier mood than I've been in for a week. When I'm back from the bathroom, Rob's awake so I ask him what he'd like for breakfast. And then, as he does his thing in the bathroom, I prepare his odd choice of oatmeal for breakfast. Oatmeal? Yeah, he asked for that with some cream and brown sugar and some bacon on the side. His sore throat must be totally cured if he can swallow crisp bacon.

Fortunately, we've got the instant Quaker oatmeal packets that simply require pouring hot water over it. Neither of us has ever had any other kind except this so-called instant oatmeal and I personally have only had this twice in my life. I don't feel like having it now either so I cook scrambled eggs for myself and we both have OJ and coffee. It's a very good sign that Rob wants a second bowl of oatmeal and I'm so pleased about that I don't even say what's on my mind, which is: 'Swell, Robby, how about if you pour some hot water on it yourself... even you can do that.' Nope, I don't say that even though I should. Ya see I'm going to make sure Robby knows how special I think he is too! I'm on a mission to let everyone know they're awesome.

While eating his second bowl of oatmeal, Rob says, "You must be as horny as I am, babe. Do you think I'm still contagious?" I go, "No! Um, I mean, probably not, Robby. It's been six or seven days depending if you count from when you said you feel like you might be coming down with a cold, or if we start counting the days from when you actually had the sniffles." He finishes his last strip of bacon and says, "Let's count from the sniffles. What's that... how many days." I'm like, "Six days, at least six, um, unless you mean when you had an actually runny nose and then that'd be five days." Nodding his head, he goes, "Let's count from the first sniffle I had." I go, "Yeah, lets."

He thinks about it and then says, "No, let's be safe and wait until tomorrow night to be sure. I mean, if we miscalculate you could get pregnant," and we both laugh because I know he means I could catch his cold and then we wouldn't be fucking like rabbits for another week. I'm assuming rabbits fuck hard and fast which is why I used the rabbit metaphor. That's what two rabbits named Dylan and Robby are gonna be doing tomorrow in any case.

I'm grinning because it'll be so cool screwing again. I say, "I want to be walking bowlegged afterward, Robby. You're my man and it's your responsibility to see to it I'm sexually satisfied." He goes, "The responsibility factor has been on my mind, babe, and it's killing me to see you walking around playing with yourself all the time. It's disturbing and upsetting for me to see other students pointing and laughing behind their hand at you groping yourself in class." I go, "Imagine how I feel!" Hahaha, we're both laughing. Yeah, he's almost there!

In the meantime, while Rob's driving us to the campus, I text Pony: 'Donald has that 2 hr class this afternoon, right?' Donald is Pony's roommate of course. I don't get a text back until halfway through our first class. I hear the ping from my cell phone and so does the professor. He dramatically stops in mid-sentence to say, "Cell phones need to be turned off, people! Who belongs to that cell phone I heard ringing?" Well, I wouldn't call it 'ringing'. It was more like a 'ping' tone so I join the rest of the class looking around for the offending individual. Making a huffy sound, the professor goes back to his amazingly effective attempt at boring all of us to death. After waiting for a discrete fifteen seconds, I slide my cell phone out of my pocket and glance at it. Pony's text: 'Yep, Donald won't be a problem. Should I meet you in my room?' Haha, he's no dummy. He knows what I meant.

After class, I text Pony: 'Yes, wait for me in ur room.' Now there's the small matter of what Rob will be doing while I'm in Pony's room. We're walking to the pickup that's parked partially on a snowbank as Robby's saying, "You wouldn't be interested in seeing the new exercise equipment at the ballpark, would you?" Oh, I forgot about that! I'm like, "No, not really, but if you feel up to it... by all means Rob, go for it. You haven't done anything baseball related since you came down with your cold and the withdrawal symptoms must be brutal." He says, "They are! So, you don't mind if I mosey on down there now?" I'm like, "Not at all, seriously. I'll drive you there. As for me, I'm looking forward to working out this afternoon with Pony." Rob goes, "I imagine you are." Double entendre? I mutter, "I hope the fitness center is open." Robby just smirks as we get in the pickup. While driving to the ballpark neither of us has anything else to say. We're both probably thinking about doing something we love doing... I know I am.

Getting out at the ballpark, Rob says, "As usual, babe, I'll text you if I need a ride to the apartment, but I'll try to get one of the guys to drive me." I say, "Seriously, Robby, have some fun!" He goes, "I'll try... you too," and we bump fist smiling at one another. Well, okay!

I drive all the way up to the Quad because Pony won't be out of class for an hour, so I'll kill some time over a cup of coffee and a piece of cake. As soon as I walk into the Quad I hear my name called and I recognize Chubby's voice. Looking in that direction I see him getting up from a table at the middle of the room. Sitting at that table are John Beverly and a couple of guys I've seen Chubby with before. I may have been, and probably have been introduced to them but I've forgotten both their names. Who can remember the names of all the people you meet at college? I wave at Chub and then get in the short line to buy a cup of coffee and a piece of chocolate cake with vanilla frosting, my second favorite kind of cake.

Chubby and his three friends are at a table for four but Chub's already pulled another chair over for me. I get there grinning at Chubby because he's grinning his infectious grin at me, and I can't help but grin when I see that. I put down the coffee and cake and we hug with Chubby kissing me and then saying, "You know Sully and Rich, right? And of course John Beverly. C'mon... have a seat." I sit down saying, "Hi guys," and Chubby take a big forkful of my cake and eats it, going, "Ummm, good." I take the fork back as either Sully or Rich, I don't know which is which, says, "Jesus, Dylan, how'd you survive growing up with Jeff? Holy shit, he tires me out after an hour with him." The one who asked that is nice-looking in that goofy/cute category I have in my mind. He's interesting looking with nice hair that's cut like Rob's, probably by Danny, and he has a cute mouth too. He's also not much taller than Chub. I shrug and say, "Growing up with Chubby was the most fun I've ever had in my life," and the guy says, "I don't doubt that," and then they wanna know how he got the nickname 'Chubby'.

Chubby tells another one of his outlandish made-up-on-the-spot bullshit stories involving his nickname and, by the way, I'm now the only person in the world who still calls him that. Chubby's totally bullshit story is very funny and complicated and has me laughing so hard I can't even eat my cake. Everyone except Chubby is laughing and when he's through John Beverly says, "That's even better than the last lying reason you made up for your nickname, Jeff." Chub tells me that he and his three buds at this table were at the Marriott Courtyard Hotel in Andover for two nights when their dormitory lost power during the Nor'easter. Sully drove them in his pickup while the storm was raging at ten o'clock that night and they got so wasted at the hotel bar they had to have someone show them how the elevator works to get to their room. Yes, one room for the four of them.

After thirty minutes of listening to Chubby's stories, I'm weak from laughing and then, gratefully, either Sully or Rich, the other one, not the goofy/cute one, has to run off for a class which gets the rest of us up and we leave too. Outside Chub tries to talk me into joining the three of them at Rolf's Bar but I beg off saying I promised to work out with someone. Chubby must have picked up something in the way I said that because he gets a twinkle in his eyes, saying, "Oh, well, that's a better idea, bro. Go for it." I go, "No, really... we're gonna work out." Chubby grins and nods his head in a way that makes me snicker, then mutter, "Get the fuck outta here, Chub, you don't know everything." He hugs me and says, "No, I don't, but I know you. Love ya, bro," and they walk over to our Kia while I get in the pickup. Gee, Chubby read my mind... that's so cool!

Now I'm idling in the pickup at dormitory row waiting for Pony to get there. I'd have given him a ride except I don't know which building his class is in. Damn though, I'm fidgety and anxious. It's stupid I know, but it is what it is. Finally, I'm getting impatient so I get out of the pickup to smoke a cigarette still grinning about Chub's stories and amazed at the way he makes that shit up so fast? What little I know of Sully and Rich, they seem like pretty good guys but I still have this negative 'thing' about John Beverly and it's weird because he couldn't be nicer to me. Weird that I haven't warmed up to him in two years.

I'm back to thinking about sex and as I'm stepping on my cigarette butt I see Pony walking this way with his head down, walking alone. Oh fuck, that makes me sad! Why won't he reach out to make friends in his class? Christ, he had friends last year so why not this year? I don't get that, but I'm not mentioning it to him again. I've already brought it up three or four times and he just shrugs. Well, he has his roommate, Donald, and the bowling team. I like Donald alright but when Pony's smoking pot with Donald and his black friends refer to Pony as 'honky' or 'white bread' I don't think that's cool at all. Donald should object on Pony's behalf UNLESS the guys are saying that in a good-natured joking manner 'cause they like Pony, then it's alright. I'm gonna keep that thought in mind.

Pony doesn't look up as he's walking, so he doesn't see me. I wait until he turns into dormitory row and then I follow about four feet behind him. He can hear my feet crunching in the snow close behind him and I see his body sort of tensing until he finally turns his head real fast to see who's following him and I go, "BOO!" He tries to act pissed off because he was scared for a second, but his cute smile breaks out instead of a frown as he mutters, "You scared me, you asshole! Sneaking up on me like that." I give him a hug and cut my index finger on something sharp from his backpack, as he goes, "You've been smoking, I smell it on your breath." I go, "Omigod, you're so fucking clever. Hardly anybody would have picked up on that. Do ya got any breath mints?" He starts walking again, saying, "No, I like that smell anyway. I was just saying..."

We turn into the sidewalk for his dormitory and both of us almost lose it, almost falling on our asses. There's ice underfoot. We grab onto each other and manage not to fall as a guy coming out the door says, "Hey, Pony, don't break your ass, bro," as he passes us. Frowning, Pony just nods at the goofball guy. Oh man, that's so unfair of me calling someone I don't know a goofball, but the guy is wearing pajama bottoms, big boots, and a ski parka. What's wrong with that picture?

As Pony and I go inside, I ask him, "Hey, how come you were rude to that guy who said 'hi' to you?" He shrugs, mumbling, "I don't know him." I go, "Well, he knows you," and then I give up trying to fix Pony's life... hell, he doesn't think it needs fixing.

He unlocks his door and we go in. I never get over that it's neat as a pin in here. Pony mutters, "We're gonna fuck I hope," and I go, "Well, yeah, but first I haven't seen you for a more than a week so I thought we'd fill each other in on what's been going on." When he hangs his backpack on a hook that Donald must have put there, I see some sharpened pencils sticking out one of the pockets at the back. Looking at my finger that's bleeding, I suck on it for a second, thinking...'Who the fuck still uses pencils?' I mean other than, obviously, Pony.

He's acting, I don't know, shy or something, so I ask, "Is anything wrong?" First of all, he's never crude, saying, 'we're gonna fuck I hope' or whatever it was he said. He goes, "No, nothing's wrong except you didn't text me at all and we lost our power and froze our asses off for one whole night and part of a second night. You could have invited me to your apartment," I go, "I could have if I knew you were freezing your ass off, and what happened to your cell phone that you couldn't text me? And did you know Rob's had a wicked bad cold all week?" Pony says, "I couldn't charge my phone because the electricity was out and, no, I didn't know Rob had a cold."

As we're taking our coats off I could mention to Pony the obvious fact that there wouldn't have been much sense in me texting him since his cell phone wasn't fucking charged, but why bother? Instead, I give him a hug and he hugs back with his body somehow melding into every crevice of mine. He feels good though. Pony's got himself a good body, but then why wouldn't he considering he is an athlete of sorts. That's assuming you consider running track athletics. I do. Track and field is an athletic sport even though there's no opponent playing defense against you. Golf and bowling, um, they're games that require skill and there's no one trying to prevent you from scoring, plus you keep your own score, that hardly qualifies as a real sport. It requires skill for sure, but... oh, fuck it. I don't wanna go into all that now.

When I let up the hug, Pony goes, "No! We haven't finished hugging yet." Yes, he acts like a ten-year-old sometimes but I don't mind. I continue to hug him because I like him so much and I guess I'm glad I mean so much to him. Jeez, am I taking Pony for granted too? We argue all the time but it's a fun kind of arguing, not real arguing.

He smells like the cold outdoors. Yeah, that's a smell! I pull off his knit ski hat and rub my fingers through his recently cut flattop, asking, "Did Danny cut your hair last Sunday?" I'm just double checking.

Pony goes, "No, it was Saturday. He won't be doing haircuts on Sunday until the week after next for some reason." I give him one more squeeze and then let go of him, asking, "Well, what have you been up to?" He shrugs and says, "Not much, but I could do without all this snow. Oh, I made a friend. He hit me with a snowball and then came over to apologize. His name is Max Kellerman and he's a junior. We have the same writing class together but never noticed each other before."

Oh my, this is good news but I don't want to sound too excited for him, so I calmly say, "Yeah, what's he like?" Pony neatly hangs his coat in the closet and then takes mine off the back of the desk chair and hangs it in the closet too, as he's saying, "I don't think he's gay, but he bowls. He bowls ten pins though, not candlepins. Saturday he's taking me with him to bowl ten pins." Omigod, I could hug this bowling dink, what's-his-name, for befriending Pony. I think I get it now; if someone approaches Pony, then he can make friends. He can't make the first move though. Why that is, who the fuck knows?

I'm excited for him, but not wanting to overdo it, I merely say, "That's cool. Maybe I'll go bowling, um, ten pins with you guys sometime. I've bowled ten pins once or twice, but like you, mostly I've bowled candlepins." Pony leans against me, mumbling, "I hope you do come with us. You can tell Max what a great guy I am." I go, "Just be yourself and I won't need to tell him; he'll see for himself."

He runs his fingers through my hair, knocking my baseball cap off as he says, "You need a haircut, Dylan. You're gonna get hollered at by Danny for going too long in between haircuts. He doesn't like that, and I was there when he told some guy that same thing last Saturday. The guy told him to go fuck himself but Danny just laughed in the guy's face and said something about how the guy should say hi for him to one of the snatch barbers at SuperCuts... and don't forget to bring twenty dollars with you... hahaha. The guy gave Danny the finger as he stormed out. It was funny the way Danny told the guy to get lost! The rest of us were clapping. Danny is so cool!" I mutter, Uh huh," and he goes on to say, "Yeah, I told Max about Danny's free haircuts and he wants me to introduce him to Danny this Saturday."

Ignoring most of that, I'm rubbing Pony's back and then his ass, and I'm getting a stiff dick doing it. I like touching guys who feel like him... tight and slim. I start to ask him about lubricant but it gets caught in my throat and I do a fake cough. And why the fuck isn't anyone as horny as me?

Clearing my throat, I ask, "Do you have any of that hand lotion we used for lubricant that time?" He shakes his head saying, apparently without being embarrassed, "Nope, I used it up jerking off." Oh, fuck! I snort out a laugh, then ask, "What can we use?" He goes, "I don't know." Pony adds, "We don't need anything. Can't we do it, um, whatever it's called when, um, you do it natural?" I mutter, "Jeez, I don't wanna hurt you," and he sounds exasperated saying, "I like it when it hurts a little! Why do you think I like being spanked?"

Fuck it. I'm pulling his sweatpants down, saying, "I forgot that, okay? We'll do it bareback," and he's fumbling with my jean's button, saying, "I wanna suck on your dick first though." Oh boy, this is more like it. We get our pants down to our knees and Pony leans over rubbing my cock and then licking it before sucking it into his mouth and, of course, he does that on his sharp bottom teeth. I need to hold my breath not to laugh or scream. Laugh because I forgot about his peculiar cock sucking technique and scream because that hurt!

I had a 'stiffy' to start with but Pony sucks, strokes, and licks my cock into a hard boner in like fifteen seconds and then, ten seconds later he goes, "Eww," as he takes my boner from his mouth and looks at me, saying, "You shot off already!" I go, "No I didn't! That's precum." He's smacking his lips, muttering, "Yeah, you're right, it's too watery." His dick is still limply hanging its full five-inches in length between his legs. Ah ha, he's not as horny because he's been jerking himself off twice a day... probably more than that. I grab his shoulders and turn him around, saying, "Hold onto the desk."

Pony bends over and gets both hands on the desk as he looks back at me saying, "A spanking first, sir, if you please." I go, "Next time, Pony," as I'm pushing the head of my boner against his asshole and, "Aaahhh," it goes inside him as Pony groans, "Umpth, ooow! Yeah, Dylan, treat me rough and call me insulting names like faggot and pussy." I should have rubbed a little pre-cum on his asshole first, but I was too anxious

Ignoring his jabbering nonsense, I'm leaning forward with my boner disappearing up his ass quickly, inch by inch, as I moan, "Ooooh, fuuuuck, that feels, um..." and stop before I make an ass of myself. But, Goddamn, it does feel so fucking good! Oh God! Then my hips thrust, seemingly, on their own and then one last push gets my crotch tight against his buttocks, very tightly against his buttocks with my stone-hard cock fully impaling him. I hump against his buttocks so hard his hands slip forward on the desk until he's up against the front of it. Oh fuck, I'm closing my eyes and biting my bottom lip... it feels so good to treat my penis like this!

Christ, I need to get myself under control. Taking a quiet deep breath, I look down at him and feel real empathy and sincere fondness for him. He reminds me of myself at age, I don't know, seventeen maybe. That's how old Pony acts most of the time, but he's an awesome kid. Never mind that now though as I'm barely able to hold off on my thrusting, but manage to hold off for ten or fifteen seconds so his rectum can somewhat adjust. Pony looks back and, fuck, I think he's cute as he says, "Any time you're ready, but do it really hard, okay?" Nodding, I go, "My pleasure," and I start fucking him like it's the last fuck of my life. Oh yeah, there are definitely sounds of males fucking coming from this room. There's the loud "Slapslapslapslap!" sounds along with Pony going, "Ah, ah, ah, ah" rocking against the front of the desk. Thank God there's a cut-out space for a chair or his cock would be crushed by now against the desk.

Of course, my cock is an electric wire of sensations, all of them fantastic, but the fuck only lasts about another forty-five seconds before my explosive climax. It's an odd climax mostly about relief. My slushy orgasm isn't all that great because it spurted out real liquidly when I expected it to be extra creamy after all this time. It came out way too soon and way too fast. Even so, when it blasted off I couldn't see or hear anything. My body froze and time seemed to stop. It was very close to a sense of pain, but that's normally a good thing. This though was just splattering cum up Pony's ass. He doesn't even have a full-blown boner when I pull my cock out trying to catch my breath.

Pony's looking at me like, 'what the fuck was that?' I'm holding my hand up, my left hand 'cause I'm squeezing my dick with my right hand, as I mumble, "That, um, I blew that off because. Oh, never mind. We'll grab a smoke outside and then do it for real... and I'll spank your ass first and whatever else you want, okay?" He says, "Oh, I get it. Yeah, you said Rob has had a cold all week so you haven't been getting any, have you?" I shrug and he goes, "Now you know why I jerk off so much." Oh man, my dick is still hard so I say, "Turn around again." His eyes get big and he grins, saying, "I dare you," and then he gets his hands on the desk again.

Sliding my cock back up his ass feels so fucking good I'm scrunching up my face and holding my breath so as not to embarrass myself with the moan of pleasure I'd like to do right now. I'm tight against his butt cheeks controlling another shudder as I give the side of Pony's ass four hard slaps, "SMACK!SMACK!SMACK!SMACK!" The sounds ringing out as Pony yelps and then I slap his ass again and now he's putting a hand back as he goes, "No! I mean, yes," but I've already started humping my boner fast and hard in his ass and after half a minute it feels just the way it should. I'm over the 'need' and into the joy of sex. Pony's ass is nice and tight and even though we didn't use lube the cum I shot up his ass the first time is awesome lube and it's the old familiar, "Slapslapslap," sounds ringing in our ears until I'm getting that floating feeling from the sexual pleasure soaring off my hard-as-stone boner.

Oh man, my cock is wicked hard flying tightly back and forth in Pony's ass and it feels amazing. Just perfect with delicious sensations moving around my groin and down the inside of my thighs. Pony's moaning now, "Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, harder Dylan," and when I slam my hard cock up his ass even harder he goes, "Ahh, aah, aah," with every deliberately hard thrust and then I see his body stiffen and he goes to reach down for his boner but I've driven him up against the front of the desk again and he can't reach his dick. I see and feel his buttocks tighten as he makes a squealing sound climaxing, and then again. The squeal was higher pitched than mine and if anyone is in the hall, they heard that. It couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything other than what it was... a guy's climax squeal from a hard fucking up the ass. I mean, Pony doesn't sound like a girl, so...

I keep pounding away as Pony's body flops against the front of the desk with him now moaning, "Um, um, um," with every thrust. It takes a mere minute more before I sense another orgasm building in my nuts and when my climax hits it's like my whole body literally shudders for five seconds. This climax was the real deal and my skin all over buzzes and puckers as my shoulders shake. I literally felt faint when the cum is streaking out and I don't dare move for like ten seconds waiting for the sensations to subside enough for me to gasp in a deep breath. Other than that I will myself to calm-the-fuck-down and act normal. Maybe Pony's right... I should have jerked myself off a couple of time over the last eight days. Omigod, what a wonderful feeling that was. Partial relief but mostly the fabulous sensations associated with the human climax, which makes the world go around... makes it worth living, dear.

Pony's talking but it seems to be coming from far off as I pull back, my cock flopping out of his ass... flaccid now. I start focusing in on Pony's words and hear, "... surprised me. I should have known you, of all people, could do it, Dylan." He's smiling, adding, "I don't remember us doing that twice like in five minutes before? You had two climaxes! I only had the second one. Your second I mean. No, I mean it was my first."

Huh? That was only five minutes for both? It seemed longer to me and, hell, I'm still savoring sensations from my climax, awesome after effects, a feeling I haven't had for a while. I let out my breath that I didn't realize I was holding in and, frowning, I ask, "What was that, Pony?" He repeats himself and I go, "No, I don't ever recall doing that before, but it doesn't surprise me that I did it with you just now because you're so sexily awesome." I hug him and sway him like Danny does to me sometimes. Pony's as limp as a ragdoll offering no resistance.

Oh man, get it together, Dylan! I let go of Pony and he goes, "You say nice things to me, Dylan. I love you," and now he hugs me. Okay, that's nice. Our pants have made their way down around our ankles by now and we haven't moved much from the spot we started at. Done hugging, I'm like, "Well, I love you too, buddy. We'll stay friends after I graduate 'cause I wouldn't want to lose a friend like you." He goes, "There you go again saying nice things to me." I mumble, "Yeah, well enough of that. What do you have that we can sorta clean ourselves up with?" He pulls his pants up and goes over to an orderly laundry basket and picks up a used towel. Wiping his ass with it, he says, "This is the most gunk you've ever shot up my ass."

Well, I'm not using that towel now that he's wiped his ass with it. I'm like, "Why didn't you use these tissues?" as I grab four or five tissues from the box and wipe my pecker with them. Pony's frowning, muttering, "That's Donald's box of tissues." I'm like, "What, he's going to miss four tissues?" Pony folds the towel and lays it back in the basket neatly, saying, "No, probably not. What are we gonna do now?" After dropping the tissues in the waste can next to the desk, I pull up my jeans, saying, "Get our coats and go outside for a smoke. I'm feeling great!" He grins, muttering, "That's 'cause you're with me." I go to the closet and get my coat, saying, "That's so true Pony."

We're both happy campers as we smoke my Marlboro Lights with Pony wasting two of them by not inhaling. I'm in a great mood though and tell Pony the crazy bullshit story Chubby made-up in the Quad about his nickname. Pony laughs his ass off but then it doesn't take a lot to make him laugh. We fuck around throwing snowballs at each other and generally act like kids in the snow until the snow gets down my neck. We go back inside where I say, "You decide what kind of sexy messing around you want us to do now Pony.

He grins and taps his front teeth with a finger, saying, "Hmm, okay. Let's see," and tap, tap, tap goes his finger on his perfectly white teeth. He says, "Okay, I've got it! We definitely need to start with more foreplay this time... I mean more than me sucking your dick for thirty seconds." I'm sitting on his bed nodding my head, grinning 'cause my dick feels good... if only my ass did.

I interrupt Pony, raising my hand and saying, "Hey, I just got an idea. How about if you try 'topping' this time?" He says, "No, I don't want to. I like feeling your dick up my ass too much." Ha, just like me. He goes, "Oh, you like kissing me so I'm gonna go along with you and do it with you because you're being nice to me. It's my little reward for you. I'll let you make out with me," and he laughs because he's liked making out with me all year. I mutter, "Goody," and he says, "Yeah, we'll begin with a hot make-out and then we'll take turns sucking each other's cocks and then I want you to put your back into spanking my ass hard. Is this okay so far?" I shrug, mumbling, "I'm getting a boner from just listening to you." He says, "No you're not! Lastly, I want a really long hard fucking this time. The hardest ever." I'm like, "What comes first? I forget the order." He goes, "No you didn't," and he comes over to where I'm sitting on the bed and leans into me basically pushing me over until I'm on my back with my feet still on the floor and him over me. Cute kid and then his mouth is all over mine, his tongue in my mouth and, somehow he manages to cut my lip for the second time today.

He's a klutzy make-out but an energetic one and I like that, so I let him go at for a minute or two before I wrestle him over onto his back and take over, him just lying there now, his mouth slightly open and glistening with his clear saliva. I give him a few lover's type kisses and then a wet tongue-infused couple of sexual sloppy kisses until I feel his cock get hard against my leg. Sliding down his body, I pull his sweat pants and boxer shorts down to just under his nuts. Taking his cute cock in my hand, and it's already fairly hard, so I lick his balls and then up his cock to the head a few times before sucking it into my mouth.

He groans and moans struggling under me and pulling my hair. Pre-cum drools out of his quivering piss slit in no time at all, so I take his bone-hard cock from my mouth and tell him, "Roll over," and when he does I spank his bare ass red with him finally saying, "No! No, stop... no, don't listen to me. Ooh, that's good... ow, ow!" He uses both his hands trying to cover his ass and by now I've got a raging boner myself so I take it out through my fly, push his hands away and fuck him as hard as I did the first two times getting his bed bouncing.

It's a good five-minute fuck before my climax comes speeding up to take over my brain and then it's frantic thrusting for another fifteen seconds before I'm making odd squeaky sounds pressed against his buttocks humping and firing off a spectacular climax. Holy shit! Oh God, that felt fantastic! I don't know if he had a climax or not as I pull my dick out of his ass and slide off him. Standing up I feel dizzy again so I plop my ass down on the desk chair shaking my head to clear it as I'm putting my dick away and then pulling up the zipper. Goddamn, that was hot!

Pony's got his hand under him, probably pulling on his dick, but he keeps lying there until I ask, "Are you okay, buddy?" He chuckles and says, "Of course I am, but you're not supposed to stop spanking me just because I'm pretending I'm trying to get you to stop." Sitting up then, his cock in his hand, he smirks and says, "I'm telling Donald you made me spunk on my bedspread. Look at that mess!" and he points at the cum stain and adds, "It's fucking up our perfect dorm room and it's all your fault." I go, "You're not telling Donald shit because you're in the closet." He snickers as he's pulling his sweatpants up and then, getting off the bed he comes over and sits on my legs facing me. Sits on my lap, actually. Putting his arms around my neck, he says, "That sex was almost as good as Chickie fucking me in his car after I blew him." I go, "Liar, you didn't see Chickie over the Christmas break."

He's running his fingers through my hair mumbling, "You need a haircut," and I go, "You already told me that." Leaning against me, his forehead on my shoulder, he murmurs, "How come I can't find another 'you', another awesome Dylan Newman for myself. Rob's got you twisted around his little finger so I'll never be able to untwist it." I rub his back saying, "You'll find someone better than me, Pony. Ya gotta look though, and looking effectively is much more difficult when you're in the closet." He mutters, "I know."

We sit like that for a couple of minutes, Pony fucking with my hair until my cell phone rings. I say, "I'm sorry to interrupt this comfy situation, but my phone is in my pocket." Pony gets off me and smirks at me mouthing, 'Danny's gonna yell at you' and he reaches over to mess up my hair some more. My hair is long enough that messing it up is easy to do. I try flattening my hair with one hand as I'm pulling out my phone with the other.

The caller ID shows 'Robert Dickers', meaning Rob's father. Rob's on his father's AT&T account obviously. I'm on my own account. I go, "Hi Rob, ya done looking at all the new equipment down there?" He goes, "Not yet but I just wanted to give you a heads-up that I've got a ride with Mouse. He lives in one of the buildings in our complex, but not near ours." Mouse? He adds, "Anyway, he'll give me a ride in like forty-five minutes or so. But also there's a little beer thingie going on tonight that I'd like us to go to. Whaddaya say?" I shrug, not that he can see me, and say, "You're feeling better huh?" He goes, "Yeah, I gotta get out and do something. Come with me tonight, please." I go, 'Sure, I'll go with you. Tell me about it when I see you."

After ending the call, I'm getting up as I say, "I gotta go now Pony, but this was a great afternoon with you! Thank you." He goes, "No, thank YOU!" Muttering, "Whatever," I get my coat and say, "Do you want a kiss goodbye?" He makes a face, saying, "Um, no thanks, we're not married as far as I know." Shrugging and chuckling, I mumble, "No, we're not... not that you need to be married to kiss a gay friend goodbye." He gives me a hug and then walks with me to the front door of the dormitory where we bump fists, saying, "See ya," just as if we were straight friends who weren't fucking for the last hour or so. It's dark as a pocket outside but I'm smiling all the way to the pickup because that WAS a great hour of sexy fun. Mostly, I suppose, because I needed it so badly!

Driving to the apartment I'm feeling so much better it's not even funny... it's serious. Yeah, for real, and it's good I got that first strange climax out of the way too. I wouldn't want to have one like that when I get to be the 'bottom' boy again. That will be with Robby and probably tomorrow night or maybe we'll take a chance on tonight. Tomorrow would be better though 'cause I'm far from horny at the moment. If not Rob tomorrow, for whatever strange reason, then Danny is my second choice and as I said, I think we're still good... Danny and me. To be sure though, I'm reaching out to him to tell him how much he means to me. Fuck pride! I do not want to go almost this entire semester without my best buddy-sex-buddy of all time.

He's not reaching out to me because Danny's simply not as sex-craved as I am, so it's nothing to him that we haven't fucked for a month. He'll tell me differently but the facts are the facts. What I just said will be bogus though if he's been banging the Providence slut's brains out. Oh God though, forget about that because I'm almost positive that Robby and Danny will be fucking me in the next couple of days... how lucky am I?

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