DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME
Chapter 32
by Donny Mumford
The alarm goes off at five o'clock Sunday morning, as planned. Reaching over I snap it off and lay against Robby. He yawns, stretches, then rubs my head, whispering, "Go back to sleep, babe. I'll get dressed and be out of here in less than a minute." I nod my head, then grab him around the waist as he tries getting up. He snickers prying my hands apart, muttering, "You nut, I gotta go." It's still dark outside but I can see Robby's outline in the moonlight as he rustles around getting untangled from the covers. Out of bed he shuffles his feet along the floor until he finds either his or my boxer shorts. Our clothes are scattered around the floor where we dropped them last night. Robby hops around on one foot pulling on a leg of the boxer shorts, then the other. Using his feet to feel around on the floor he comes up with my Polo golf shirt, which he pulls over his head thinking it's his. I know it's mine though because even in faint moon light I can see it's a solid color and his shirt from last night was two-toned, not that it matters. While feeling around on the floor for his cargo shorts, he whispers, "I loved our date last night, boyfriend." With his shorts on he finds his sandals; then, carrying his sandals Robbie leans down and we do a kiss on the lips, both murmuring, "Love you," and he's out through the bedroom door.
The front door's lock clicks when he closes that door, then I listen for the sound of his pickup's motor turning over, but can't hear it.
Sighing, I think about last night's reunion date, obviously happy about it. I say that even though it lacked the intensity of the reunion date we had when I came home from Georgia. Of course I was away for two months before that reunion date. Not that it was two straight months without seeing him because he, Chubby, and a friend of Chubby's from the lawn cutting crew visited me in Georgia for a weekend. That was a fun weekend, but didn't count as a reunion date. When I came home a few weeks after their visit, supposedly only for the weekend, Robby and I had an awesome lover's reunion date.
It was sweet the way Robby forbid me going back to Georgia saying he can't stand another day with me away. Sweet! Previous to that I'd already decided I wasn't going back, but he didn't know that. Our date that night was much more lovers centric as compared to last night's date which was more of a horny-for-each-other date with some joking and clowning around thrown in.
Both dates were pretty fucking awesome though, like all our dates. Pulling over Robby's pillow, I lay my face on it, murmuring, "Awww," inhaling Robby's scent. So nice, but in less then two minutes I'm sleeping again and, like earlier tonight, I fall asleep with Robby's scent in my head and a smile on my lips.
Sun shining in my eyes through my bedroom window wakes me four hours later, and I feel spectacular! Stretching every muscle in my body tightly... and, oh boy, that feels good! Heh heh, sometimes I get a cramp in one muscle or another when I stretch too hard, but not this morning. And not a hint of a hangover either, plus we only smoked a couple of cigarettes all night so I'm the picture of good health today. Plus it's Sunday, so no work today.
After lying in bed for ten minutes thinking about Robby and me last night, I get up and do my normal bathroom routine finishing with a long shower.
Dressed in basketball shorts and a too-large t-shirt I go barefoot up to Chubby's condo and look in the front the window. Nobody's up, not that I thought there would be. I get the cleverly hidden emergency key from the mailbox and let myself in, then make a beeline for Chubby's bedroom. Quietly opening his bedroom door, then navigating my way through the rubble on the floor to his bed, I look down at the most important person in my life. Huh, he's sleeping on his stomach without making a sound and somehow managing to look cool even though he's asleep. Hmmm, what to do now that he's at my mercy? Well, before waking him I check my watch for the first time this morning: 9:36 a.m. That's what it tells me, but 9:36 is a borderline time for waking Chubby. He was out with John Beverly and the guys last night and they sure as shit weren't drinking orange pop, as the say down South. There's a good chance he's gonna be hungover when he wakes-up, so I'll let him sleep it off some more. Retracing my steps to his bedroom door I almost fall on my ass stepping and sliding on a Burger King bag with something mushy inside.
I'll bet anything it was a Burger King's Reese's Peanut Butter Cup pie that Chubby bought intending to eat later, then forgot about it. Jesus! Out of his bedroom in one piece, I tip toe to their refrigerator and look inside to check on a long shot that Chubby has already bought the food for brunch.
Ha, that's a good one! The refrigerator's almost empty just like you'd expect it to be for someone returning from a week's vacation and then going out to dinner the first night back, like we all did.
Okay, good! This gives me the opportunity to return part of the favor Chubby did for me yesterday morning. I'll let him sleep while I shop for the groceries, then I'll do today's brunch myself. Or maybe I'll get Robby to help me with it. Back at my place I put on socks and sneakers, find my keys, then plop Ryan's Merrimack baseball cap on my head and I'm ready to hunt for the Jeep. Checking the alley first, not expecting to see it there. Only rarely will Chubby park in back and come up through our basement. Eliminating that possibility, I'm out the front door on a quest to find where Chubby parked our car last night. Spaces for street parking at the curb below fill-up when everyone's in for the night at a reasonable hour. I'm pretty sure Chubby was not parking at a reasonable hour however. Condo residents need to park their cars at the curb because only the first floor condos, like my Mom's, has a garage.
Down the steps I go, immediately noticing the Jeep's not parked along the block below our condo, but as I'm crossing the street to the next block I see it right away. Chubby parked it with the driver-side wheels, front and rear, up on the sidewalk. Ah ha! It's a good thing I let him sleep as he was obviously hammered last night when he parked like that. I'm guessing he was celebrating his twenty-first birthday again. This time in a bar with John Beverly and the boys. That particular rite of passage seldom gets ignored although it probably should be. Far be it from Chubby or me, however, to be
martyrs doing the responsible and sensible thing of ignoring turning twenty-one. Hell, it may very well be the last rite of passage that can, in any way, be attributed to a 'boys-being-boys' kind of thing. I mean, come on, most twenty-one-year-old guys have more 'boy' in them than 'man'. While that's true there comes a time during a guy's middle twenties when he slips into that category where he's expected to act like a 'man' for real. Sure, we can qualify as a 'young man' up until, um, say twenty-four, but after that forget about it. You can't get away with anything using the 'youth' excuse from then on.
I'm standing here on the sidewalk looking at the Jeep and shaking my head in amazement. Its front bumper is tight up against the Mini Cooper in front of it, and there's like eighteen inches between the back of the Jeep and the SUV behind it. How the fuck did he manage to get between these two vehicles? I get in the Jeep scratching my head, wondering if it's even possible to get out of here. After cranking over the engine I begin backing up a little bit, then inching forward turning the wheel hard, then repeating it over and over. I need to do it eight or nine times before I finally manage to get the Jeep off the sidewalk with its front bumper sliding across the Mini's back bumper. Minor damage to the little Mini Cooper in front, but fuck
it. Driving away happy to be out of that spot, and happy that there's very
little traffic this early on a Sunday morning, and especially happy that no one was walking by seeing my absurd extraction from that parking spot.
Okay, there's very little traffic, but that's assuming I avoid St.
Michael's church where three hundred people will be leaving the nine o'clock Mass about now. I avoid that by going the long way around to Stop & Shop and thereby not making what would be an inexcusable rookie mistake of getting tied-up in church traffic. At Stop & Shop, if I can go by the sparsity of cars in the parking lot, it's not busy this early on a Sunday morning. Parking close to the front entrance I'm thinking this is a great time to shop. When I'm inside the question becomes: what should I get for brunch? This is where Chubby's good. He decides instantly what to have for brunch while I'm never sure. Grabbing a basket, I start wandering up and down the aisles looking for inspiration.
Well, no way I can go wrong with Jimmy Dean breakfast sausages, so a pack of twenty-four go in the basket. We're gonna need butter sometime or other, so that goes in along with a loaf of Italian bread for toast, then I head for the refrigerated dairy section for half and half. Huh, looking at the eggs I notice there's a ridiculously wide range of prices for eggs. The most expensive are from natural farm fresh, organically fed, free-range chickens. Their feed has no pesticides, herbicides, or commercial fertilizers.
Well fuck, they seem safe to eat, although they cost two to three times what a generic dozen eggs costs. I do not want all that shit in my eggs though, so I put the $4.99 a dozen container of eggs in the basket as someone's patting my arm. Looking over my shoulder I see Dougie Hamilton, who says, "We need to stop meeting like this, ha ha." We do a one arm hug, both of us saying, "Dude, wassup?" I met Dougie about this time last year right here in Stop & Shop. He was with his mother and I thought he looked cutely exotic.
Sort of a Gothic look with a pale complexion and dressed mostly in black. He had long strands of his dark hair on either side of his face, the strands so long they reached below his chin. Weird hairdo, but like I said he's cute... kind of pretty actually. I didn't see him on campus at all after New Years, but there are over five thousand students at Merrimack so it easy to understand not bumping into him once we stopped texting. Heh heh, I did have a hot three-way with him and his roommate, Jamie, so I'm surprised he never texted me for more of that. The dumb ass! He goes, "Dylan, I see you got suckered into paying three times what you need to for a dozen eggs." I go, "Whaddaya talking about?" He says, "The nutrient content in those eggs is the same as a dozen generic eggs, which cost $1.29. Just saying..." I'm like, "No way that can be true," then, "Did your mother let you go shopping by yourself this time?" He chuckles, mumbling, "You prick! When I saw you in here last year that was the only time I ever went shopping with Mom." I ask, "Whaddaya shopping for this morning?" He goes, "I'm getting some snacks for the Pats' pre-season game this afternoon. Some buddies of mine are coming over to watch the game at my place. You wanna come?" I shrug, "Thanks, but I've got something going on myself this afternoon. Hey, you still hooking-up with your hot roommate, Jamie?" He makes a face, then says, "That two-timing asshole? No way." I'm like, "Oh, too bad! You guys made a really cute couple," and he shrugs, "Yeah, he's cute but he runs around letting anybody fuck him who wants to. I got so jealous I couldn't even fucking sleep. We had this wicked shouting match calling each other horrible things, and this was when we had half of a semester to go." I grin, "Oh, a cat fight, huh?" He's like, "Living in the same dorm room for six weeks without talking to each other was way past awkward. It was torture, dude."
I can see he's recently gotten a regular haircut, so I ask, "How come you're going back to the butcher barbers again. Didn't you like the haircuts I gave you and your ex-roommate?" He goes, "I didn't want to bother you, but yeah I liked your haircuts just as much as a barbers." See, he doesn't get it. My haircuts are much better than the one he's got now, and mine are free, but he can't tell the difference. What a douche, but fuck it. I mutter, "It's no bother, but whatever." We bump fist muttering, "Later, dude,"
then he stops and, smelling the back of his wrist, mumbles, "Um, maybe you and I could, you know, get it on some place after food shopping." Jeez, that's tempting 'cause Dougie's really sexy and cute. I look at him, then run my fingers through his hair, grabbing a fistful with Dougie leaning into me a little, as I say, "If you needed a haircut, Dougie, we might have managed something in my basement, but..." He says, "You can re-do this stupid haircut.
Cut it short, I don't care." Shaking my head as my dick's moves in my pants, I reluctantly mumble, "Another time, Dougie, okay?" He shrugs, whining, "Yeah, but why not this morning?" Now I'm smelling the back of my hand and using all my considerable willpower resisting the urge to take him up on his offer. Finally I force myself to mumble, "Sorry, man, I can't do it this morning." He says, "I'll text you," and we bump fist again, "Yeah, you do that, Dougie," and I drift over to the bakery department kicking myself in the ass for turning him down. But damn, I just couldn't do it knowing I'll be seeing Robby in a couple of hours.
Oh well, it's back to brunch shopping. In the bakery section I choose a raspberry Danish breakfast ring with icing. That'll be a welcome change from Chubby's Pillsbury cinnamon rolls that we usually get for the pastry part of brunch. A little something different for us to eat with coffee while Robby and I are preparing the main brunch; well, I'll be doing like ninety percent of it, but Robby will be hovering nearby. Glancing around I see Dougie just now checking out at a register. His slim body is very appealing. Then I'm shaking my head in disgust at the retiree who's doing the bagging.
What the hell happened to high school boys as baggers? Ah screw it, and there goes Dougie out the door. Oh man, opportunity wasted! Well, back to shopping. Hmmm, how about a second protein for this morning's brunch? I've got breakfast sausages, and after checking things out, settle for butcher-shop thick bacon slices. We'll do soft scrambled eggs, toast with jam, sausages and thick bacon slices, home fries with green pepper and onion, and the pastry; that'll be that. A basic brunch. Oh, and a bag of Florida oranges for fresh squeezed orange juice... that should do it.
Carrying the basket to one of the self-check-out stations, then at the last second spotting a kid at the ten-items-or-less register who looks hot with a blond buzz cut. Blond buzz cuts turn me on, and the kid's slim and cute too. Yeah, but why waste my time? I've been through that routine too many times already. I continue to one of the self-serve check-outs doing it myself, then pay with my debit card. As I'm bagging my stuff I'm looking at the blond buzz-cut kid, who sure looks like he could easily be eighteen.
Well, he could be seventeen too, and what are the chances he's even gay? Forget it! I finish bagging and head for the door.
Outside the automatic doors I literally run into Danny Monday. I bump into his back because I was taking one last glance at the blond buzz cut kid, and Danny stopped abruptly to wave at some guys driving by. He turns around with an annoyed expression on his face, but that changes to one of surprise, saying, "Hey, Dylan! Dude, you're looking good! What the fuck you doing up this early on a Sunday morning?" We do an awkward one arm hug with me holding the hand with the two plastic bags of groceries out to the side. I go, "I could ask you the same thing, Danny." He's looking sexy-hot this morning. He shrugs, "I gotta pick up some things for dear old mom. Jesus, I need to move out of the house real fucking soon, and get my own place. Um, ya seen Rob lately?" I'm like, "Well yeah, he's my boyfriend," and Danny's like, "Still?" then, "Hey, good for you two." I sort of nod my head toward the parking lot, like I gotta go, but he puts a hand on my shoulder, asking, "You guys still have an open relationship, right?" and before I can say anything, he adds, "So I was thinking maybe you and I, like maybe right now, could get off a quickie. You sure liked it the last time I fucked you, heh heh." I'm like, can I believe this shit? He grins, squeezing my shoulder, "
Seriously, do ya wanna do a quickie eye opener, just for the fuck of it. I got the old lady's van. I could drive around the other side of the parking lot." I'm kind of shrugging, so Danny goes, "Dude, I'm so fucking horny I could fuck a rattlesnake if somebody would hold it down, and you're looking hot and horny this morning yourself. Let's do it!" This proposal coming from Robby's old side-sex boyfriend making it extra awkward for me. And you know what? I'm not thrilled about his innuendo that I'd be this easy either! I only consider it for about a second before saying, "Are you fucking for real, Danny? No offense, but grow up, dude," and I walk past him. He mutters, "Well fuck you, stuck up!"
Dammit, why was I so insulting to him? Talk about burning bridges. Still, it was so unnecessary of him calling me stuck up? Jesus! All kinds of random bullshit this morning, not once but twice. Anyway, who the hell does a quickie in his old lady's van on a Sunday morning? I hope Danny gets hornier and hornier, and stays that way forever. Stuck up, my ass! Getting in the Jeep with my groceries I decide not to tell Robby about this chance encounter. He might lose his temper and kick Danny's ass, which would be dumb and totally unnecessary. Driving out of the parking lot I'm thinking, 'At least somebody's still interested in doing a little buddy sex with me. If Charlie was with me though, Dougie and Danny would probably push me out of the way to come-on to him.' Ha ha, paranoid anyone? Dougie and Danny are two hot looking guys, for sure, but after last night with Robby, sex with either of them would pale by comparison. Who says I'm not cutting down on my side-sex? I'd pat myself on the back if I wasn't driving. Yeah, but Dougie was especially tempting. Ya know, he's young and obviously missing sex since he had the fight with Jamie, so I could've given him a really short haircut and then a hard fucking. Maybe I should text... nah, bad idea! Damn, I hate growing up! Back at the condo I unload everything on our kitchen table trying to put missed side-sex opportunities out of my mind, then I text Robby, 'What are you doing now, boyfriend?' He texts back that he's just got out of a business meeting with his father and their two partners. Business meeting, huh? Slightly pretentious, but I overlook that and text him back asking when he can come over to help me with the brunch. As soon as I send the text Robby calls me, sounding very upbeat. "Good morning, Dylan, baby. I'll be over as soon as I get home to change my clothes." I ask, "How come you need to change?" and he goes, "I'm wearing a suit and tie. Dad says when we're talking with investors we need to look like serious professional businessmen.
Today we got the last loans we need to get started on ordering materials and finalize the equipment rentals I told you about before." I go, "Uh huh, a suit and tie, huh? I don't think I've ever seen you in a suit and tie." He chuckles, "It's not a lot of fun wearing a suit and tie to be honest with you." I'm like, "I wouldn't think so," and he says, "Everyone was wearing business suits though, so I'm glad I took Dad's advice." I ask, "You're not texting and driving, right?" He goes, "No, I'm in the shotgun seat with Dad driving. I'll see you in twenty minutes." I tell him I'm leaving the front door unlocked and for him to just come in without knocking, then we end the call. Standing here in the kitchen I'm trying to picture Robby in a suit and tie. Bet he looks handsome! Then I wonder what his father thinks about his son calling another guy 'baby', like Robby just called me? Because I got up early, for a Sunday anyway, after I put the groceries away I've got the time to make a mug of coffee and drink it on the balcony casually reading the Globe's sports section. Nice weather this morning although it's supposed to be in the upper eighties later this afternoon, which after all is normal for the last week in August. In some ways this seemed like a long summer to me, and in other ways I feel it flew by too quickly.
Looking back, it's hard to believe I actually spent most of two months in Georgia. That makes me run my fingers though my hair thinking about Ryan and his weekly specialty haircuts. Man, I almost miss those haircut-fetish trances Ryan's haircutting caused. I wonder if I'll lose the fetish going so long between haircuts now? In some ways I wish I would lose it, but in other ways I wish Ryan were here right now bossily telling me to 'Get your shirt off and sit up straight on the stool. Don't fucking slouch, Dylan!' Ha ha! He was something alright. I hope he's doing okay and his romance with Mike gets back on track. The last I heard it wasn't doing too good. Well, we'll be back together at college in two weeks. Considering how tight Robby and I have become though it's highly unlikely Ryan, my best side-sex buddy ever, will seem as sexy and hot to me as I once thought he was. Maybe, like Willie, Ryan and I can be best friends without sex. Lots of guys have best friends they never have sex with; hell, the vast majority of best friends don't have sex together! And they'll both need to be second tier 'best friends' because Chubby will always, far and away, be my best friend.
Yeah that's true, but both Willie and Ryan have meant a lot to me over the years, and they still do although things are different somehow now that we're getting older. I'm not saying we'll never have a friendly sexual encounter, just that it won't ever be like it was. Things change, like I'm always telling myself, but then... it's true, things do change and there's nothing we can do about that. Damn though, I'm again thinking about Dougie Hamilton. I should have taking him up on his offer. It'd be fun giving him a really short haircut. Ha ha, fun for me I mean, and then a little recreational sex between friends. But I didn't do it and I can't help but wonder if that just may be a harbinger of things to come for me. Jesus, I guess the older you get the less fun you're allowed to have. Then I say out loud, "Hey! That doesn't make any fuckin' sense."
Robby steps out on the balcony, asking, "Are you talking to yourself again, Dylan?" I glance up at his smiling face, then we hug and kiss, 'hello'. I go, "Yeah, I was talking to myself, talking nonsense as a matter of fact.
Man, I can't get that picture of you in a suit and tie out of my mind. I'll bet you looked handsome!" He grins that really cute grin of his, holding out his iPhone, "Look for yourself; I took a selfie for you." I look at him standing outside a building with a serious expression on his face wearing a light gray suit, white dress shirt, and a striped tie." To be goofy, I go, "I can't see your feet in this picture; were you wearing sneakers?" He laughs and hugs me, "No, I had on flip flops." I go, "You're just as handsome in that picture as I thought you'd be. How many suits do you own?" He holds up two fingers, muttering, "Dos." I go, "Oh, not tres. He laughs, then asks, "How can I help you with brunch?"
We go inside and I get him started on the electric juicer for the oranges, making orange juice. I peel potatoes as we talk about our dinner last night and Robby's claim that Tony might have the hots for me. I tell him that's ridiculous, but then wonder how old Tony is. Robby says, "I'd say he's twenty-four or twenty-five, something like that." We both thinks he's hot, then I consider telling Robby about Danny Monday at Stop & Shop, but again reject the idea. It's ten-thirty when I get the cubed potatoes, peppers, and onion in a skillet over medium heat with two table spoons of vegetable oil.
They'll cook until crispy brown on the outside and creamy on the inside.
The eggs are cracked and into a bowl, then whipped until they're ready for the frying pan. The sausages and thick sliced bacon are slowly cooking on an electric skillet and I've put the pastry ring on a platter at the center of the table with a knife and small plates. Robby finishes setting the table and we go out on the balcony again, for a smoke this time.
Robby's looking so cute and manly this morning. Staring at him I'm remembering last night and feeling very amorous towards him. Smoking our cigarettes, we're standing at the balcony railing looking at the alley below. I squeeze the back of his neck, saying, "Pretty view, huh?" He laughs, "Yeah, your next door neighbor has nice trash cans." I say, "Let's get on the chaise lounge and we can look up at the sky and pick out cloud formations that resemble things down here on earth." He's grinning and shaking his head slowly as we both flick our cigarette butts, aiming for the other side of the alley. Mine just skims off the top railing, then falls straight down to my driveway, as I mumble, "I'll kick that off the driveway later." He chuckles as we squeeze together on the chaise lounge, "See, like I told you last night, Dylan, you make everything fun." He points up, saying, "Look! Oh wow, that cloud right there, um, it looks just like a, um, cloud." I make a face at him and grin, then lean over for a sloppy kiss as Robby gets his arms around me. My fingers go through his hair and we get into a wild make-out with me ending up mostly on top of him with my boner poking his. Gasping, I ask, "Can we do it, Rob?" He goes, "Do we have time?" I nod my head, "Yeah, downstairs though; not in my bedroom."
With the laps of our cargo shorts slightly protruding we go inside and walk quickly to the basement door, then down the steps with Robby saying, "There's no way the two of us are dangerously oversexed, is there?" I say, "No, not dangerously anyway. At least I don't believe we are." We walk to the far corner, out of sight of the stairs, then embrace and do a long wet kiss with our tongues sliding together. Breathing nosily, Robby unbuttons my shorts as I'm doing the same to his. We pull each other's shorts and underpants down to our knees and he strokes my cock a few times. Letting go of my boner he grabs my butt cheeks, a hands on each one, and pulls us together with both of us grinding our hips and humping them lightly moaning quietly with arousal, then doing another wild kiss with our teeth scraping together.
A minute of making-out before Robby rather roughly turns me around and pushes me up against the washing machine. He can be a little rough when he gets extra aroused in a certain way, but I can never predict when that'll happen. Whatever, I like it! Sticking my ass out Robby guides his boner to my asshole and humps it in hard. The head was drooling precum so it punched in past my sphincter muscle without much resistance, but his hump against me pushed my boner against the front of the washing machine, so I'm like, "Ow!' My anus, wickedly stretched by his fat hard boner, hurt too, but no matter, it's sexy as hell. Robby does another hip thrust and I'm holding my breath against the pain for a few seconds as he leans against my buttocks pushing the last half inch of his engorged cock the rest of the way up my ass. He grabs my chin pulling my head around to the side so he can lick across my lips and then up the front of my nose with a lot of his saliva getting left behind. Precum drools from my cock sliding down the front of the washing machine getting harder and harder until my boner's flat up against my belly.
Letting go of my chin and getting an arm around my belly, Robby begins moving his hips humping his boner back and forth in my ass, fucking me fast and hard. The normal, "Slap, slap, slap," sounds of him smacking against my ass gets me insanely hot. I'm picturing his hard fat cock disappearing and spreading wide my rectum. The sensations from my prostate immediately make me feel like I'm gonna cum with a million tiny nerve endings all around my anus sparkling and sizzling making me moan and my shoulders shudder on their own as a buzzing chill run up and down my spine. Every hard thrust of his cock up my ass make me go, "Umpth!" My head is back against his shoulder and, with my eyes closed, I'm only aware of the sensations of sexual pleasure created by his trusting boner. It's hard thrusting, and, "Slap, Slap, Slap," real fast. As sensations grow and grow I need to lean forward now, my forearms resting on the lid of the washing machine, my ass back far enough so my boner doesn't hit against the front of it every time Robby humps against me.
He begins grunting, desperately pulling my ass into his thrust now, digging his fingers in the skin at my hips. It's a fast three-minute fuck and I'm ready to blow, so highly aroused my grunts and moans make no sense as I start humping back into his thrusts whining at the inconceivable pleasure sensations swarming all over me. My whining will soon turn into a squeal as I straighten up, all my muscles tense, my face scrunched up and my hips hump while firecrackers go off behind my eyes and cum spurts out almost straight up, then arches over to splatter against the dials on the washing machine.
Everything is so bright as I take a breathy gasp followed by three quick shots of cum splattering this time against the edge of the washing machine.
Overwhelmed with it all I lay forward on the lid limply now, again taking deep breaths savoring the fleeting climax sensations buzzing around my groin. Oooh, so fucking awesome, and now Robby's exhaling through his teeth making a hissing sound like he's in pain, humping against my buttocks shooting streams of cum inside me, some of it drooling right back out around his cock. He humps against my buttocks twice more, gasping and then lays against my back taking deep breaths. Fifteen seconds later he straightens up and does a few more thrust, his cock sloshing in his own cum.
When pulling his cock out of my ass it makes a wet sucking sound and then his cum runs out of my wide-opened asshole and down my butt cheeks and underneath me before rolling down the inside of my thighs. Wow! I straighten up slowly, feeling slightly dizzy and still tingling all over, but feeling mighty fine. Turning around, pulling on my dick, I go, "Whoa, that felt good, Rob." Robby takes another deep breath, then says, "I don't know what's with these quick climaxes lately, but I'm with you... that did feel good." We bump fists, then he goes, "I'd apologize for being so rough about it, except I know you like it like that and I couldn't control myself anyway. Babe, I got so crazily aroused it got out of control a little." I'm like, "It was awesome!" and he grins rubbing my head, asking, "You know what? We're going to fuck ourselves to death when we get married." I grin, "I've had that thought myself and strangely enough the thought has some appeal, ya know?" He nods, "Really? Yeah, maybe, but let's clean up now. I'm thinking what if your brother or mother is upstairs? They might hear that squeal of yours that I love so much and come racing down to see if you've hurt yourself."
In the half bath Robby helps me clean his cum off my ass and legs, then he washes his cock, we dry ourselves and pull our shorts up. Putting my arm across his shoulders, I tell him, "Rob, that's an awesome way to start the day. You fuck good, boss." He puts his arm around my waist in back and gives me a hug, "Well, your ass is pretty good for fucking, ya know? Seriously though, we're really good together, all kidding aside." Then he looks at his reflection in the mirror, asking me, "You sure I don't need a haircut?" I go, "You asked me that yesterday," and as we walk out of the bathroom he goes, "Yeah, but my Dad was telling Eric, he's the college kid who's interning in the office this summer, that he needs a haircut and I wondered if that was a subtle hint for me too." Robby's ultra-concerned about what his father thinks about anything and everything. Plus, I hope to hell his old man knows what he's doing borrowing all that money. I've had this same thought before, but I'm remembering a mere three years ago when the company depended fifty percent on the lawn cutting income, and now they've built a new warehouse and office space taking a big leap up in manpower and borrowed money.
Somebody better know what the fuck they're doing. I not sharing my concern
in the regard with Robby though; instead I tell him, "Hell, I'll give you a haircut right now if you want one." He says, "Thanks, how about after we have brunch?" I nod and we go upstairs with me grinning at Robby, whispering, "That anal sex, speaking from experience, was primo stuff, Rob. It hit the spot!" He's grinning, mumbling, "Just trying to keep you happy, babe."
We find Chubby in the kitchen re-stirring the scrambled eggs. He glances at us, "Oh fuck! You two look like the cats that ate the canaries, but if it was something else, don't enlighten me." I hug Chubby with one arm and we do a quick kiss, saying, "G'morning bro." He tells me, "You are an awesome prince, Dylan! Thanks for letting me sleep this morning because, believe it or not, I've got a tiny hangover again this morning. Last night the guys insisted I have some shots and beers celebrating the fact I've finally reached the golden age. They've all been twenty-one for months and months. Well, Hamster, he just turned twenty-one two weeks ago, but I was the last one."
I go, "So you're the youngest in your crowd, but all the celebrating for being twenty-one should be over by now. If not you'll turn into an alky, or a boozer, or a lush, or a wino." Chubby says, "Oh, now you've gone too far! I'd never be a wino 'cause I don't like wine all that much." I chuckle, "Don't worry, I won't let you be any of the other things either. I'm your big brother and I'm looking out for you." Robby says, seriously, "Jeez, I miss my brother. Fuckin' Dodger had to go and join the Army." I pat his shoulder as my Mom comes out of her bedroom flooding the place with her smile and greetings for each of us. Then she goes, "I don't believe I've ever seen three more handsome young men in one place at the same time." Chubby goes, "Yes, that'd be a highly unlikely possibility, Dee." She laughs, hugging Chubby.
Chubby's mom joins us two minutes later and after everyone gets a hug, Chubby cooks the scrambled eggs as I put the rest of brunch in serving dishes. While we're doing that Robby and the moms have coffees and the Danish pastry encouraging Chubby and me by saying everything looks delicious. It's a cordial brunch with talk of Wildwood. Robby shocks me by coming right out and asking if the moms would mind if he joined us next year if he pays his share. The moms think it's a marvelous idea that he come with us next summer, but wouldn't hear of Robby paying for anything. The moms, as usual, clean the kitchen after brunch and I give Robby a quick haircut while Chubby talks on the phone with one of his girlfriends. This one is Teri, the older sister of a guy on the grass cutting crew, Dallas Brown. I really like working with Dallas. He's a tall good looking black guy with an infectious laugh, and he's really smart. His mother's a school principle and his dad's an attorney. We're always kidding him asking what's a smart rich dude like you doing working with the likes of us? After the haircut, Robby, Chubby and I go for a swim in Dicker's pool.
When we've been screwing around in the pool for about a half hour, Robby's parents join us in the back yard with neighbors who have two teenage daughters who want to swim too. One's a shy chunky girl with very short curly hair.
Her sister has a nice body for a seventeen-year-old, but she's an obnoxious flirt assuming the three of us are hot to get in her pants. Needless to say she isn't privy to the information regarding Robby and me, plus Chubby would no more think of messing around with jail bait than drowning himself, so after a while the girl gets huffy and calls us a bunch of fags. She's two-thirds correct without even knowing it.
We leave the pool twenty minutes after the girls show up. After putting on our sneakers and changing back into shorts we ride over to the high school in the Jeep and get involved in a game of pick-up basketball with three guys closer to thirty then twenty years old. We're still `boys' according to them. Like, "You boys gotta take it easy on us old guys. We've been out of school for a decade." That's about as clever as they get with their banner.
The three friends are boringly not cool, plus they aren't very good at basketball. We showed them very little mercy, soundly beating them in a half court game and then leave without giving them a rematch even though they claimed they were just warming up. Sweating like mad we walk across the street
and gulp down quart bottles of water that we pay too much for at a convenience store, then decide to drive to the Dairy Queen for some of their imitation ice cream and to see who might be at that popular gathering spot.
As I park the Jeep I see there's the usual summer crowd milling around the Dairy Queen grounds. Getting out of the Jeep Robby immediately hooks-up with two guys he played with on Framingham High's baseball team. Once teammates, teammates for life; that's what Robby told me one time. Almost any place we go in town we're likely to spot at least one of Robby's teammates from the four years he played on the team. I tap Chubby's arm, nodding my head at a picnic table where one of his ex-girlfriends is sitting. Chubby mutters, "Oh boy," then, with a smirk, he says, "I'll be right back," and he goes over to exchange insults with his ex-girlfriend, Mary Jo, who's sitting with three other girls. I hear Mary Jo yell, "Oh my God! Look who's out of jail!" then in a bored conversational voice, she asks, "What the fuck do you want, Jeffery?" Chubby saying, "Well, it's nice to see you girls looking so good," then "Ya got that twenty buck you owe me, MJ?" Without waiting for a response, Chubby sits next to one of the girls, saying, "Darlene, darling! Wow, you grew up good, girl!" I turn away as Mary Jo says something I can't hear, but I can hear Chubby laughing his ass off at whatever it was she said.
Spotting Bean and Devon leaning against a car, I walked over to talk with them. They're both holding plastic cups of what looks like root beer floats, which makes it a little awkward doing the one arm hug greeting. Devon looks sexy as he offers me a sip of that sweet concoction, which I take so I can lick the straw. He grins, looking me in the eyes for a long second or two. Unbeknownst to me Ray's with them and he comes around from the lavatory joining us, shouting, "Dylan Newman! Finally, back from wherever you went, huh?" I mumble, "Um, I've seen you since I got back from Georgia, Ray. I gave you a haircut, fer chrissakes. How ya doing?" He goes, "I've never been better, but what's up with you slumming it today? I mean you're actually talking to us?" I go, "Jesus, you're such an asshole, Ray. What was the name of that charm school you graduated from?" Ray's like, "What the hell does that mean?" Bean goes, "He didn't go to charm school, Dylan. We all went to the same high school you went too." Oh fuck, clueless, Bean. Devon and I exchange smirks, grinning and doing little shakes of our heads. Bean's clueless, but also harmless. Still, it's hard to believe I actually spent a summer with these guys. I mumble, "Thanks for clearing that up for me, Theodore. Take care, boys, I'm going to get in line. Can I get you guys anything?"
Ray goes, "You already had your chance with me, Dylan. Buying me a fucking vanilla cone of soft serve isn't going to get me to give you another chance." I'm like, "Get over yourself, Ray," and he goes, "I'm joking with you!"
I walk towards one of the two lines at the serving windows as Bean shouts after me, "Hey, did you know Dawg joined the Marines," and I shout back, "No, I didn't, but he'll make a good Marine!" Then I have a flash back to my Marine in Parkers Park so long ago. That stud was hot! Standing in line I'm trying to remember why I ever thought I had the hots for Ray? I can't make any sense of that as Chubby comes up to me grinning, and asking, "Whaddaya gonna get, bro." I say, "Strawberry sundae, ya want me to get you something?" A guy a couple of spots back in line, says, "No butting the line, buster." Chubby smirks, muttering, "Buster, ha ha," but other than that he ignores the guy and inches in line ahead of me, saying, "I'm not sure what I want. I'll check out all those pictures of the ice cream treats on the glass wall." I go, "Sure, but don't expect whatever you order to look anything like these glossy pictures." He goes, "Yeah I know, it's like the pictures in McDonalds of the Big Mac. Awesome picture but when you get your own Big Mac it looks like it was in somebody's back pocket all afternoon." Chubby finally decides on a chocolate dipped medium cone, and we eat our soft serve imitation ice cream treats while leaning up against the Jeep. Grinning and muttering under our breath we mock and laugh at the people we see in line. I finally say, "Lucky for us we're perfect, huh, bro?"
He nods his head chuckling.
Robby comes over, asking, "You guys interested in a pick-up baseball game at Kent Field?" Chubby goes, "Nah, it's too hot, Rob, I'll pass." He asks, "How about you, Dylan?" I say, "First of all, are you okay? You look pale."
He shrugs, "I'm maybe coming down with a cold or something. How about playing some ball?" Taking a deep breath, then letting it out slowly, I go, "Usually I'd say yes, Rob, but I'm with Chub on this one. It's too fucking hot and we just played that basketball game." He goes, "Okay, but you don't mind if I play, do you?" I'm like, "Oh come on, Rob, of course I don't mind," and he shrugs, "I think I will then. I'll call you later," and we bump fists smiling at each other, as I mumble, "Don't get hurt, boss." He walks back to the guys he was talking with, as Chubby says, "Hey, let's watch the four-thirty preseason football game on TV in air conditioned comfort." I say, "Yeah, okay, that's about as much exertion as I can handle. Who's playing?" and as we get in the Jeep I see Danny Monday drive by with three guys in his car... one of them is Robby.
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are under ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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