Invited

Chapter 12

( Looking Good )

Wednesday night, my heart goes pitter-patter, my dick tightening when I see Billy driving up with his massive smile. His butch haircut, bow-shaped rosy lips, dimples, brilliantly white teeth, and the tiny spaces between them make him look like a happy little kid.

Getting in the van, I'm like, "You look like a happy little kid, Billy."

He mumbles, "That's a weird thing to tell me."

Grinning, I say, "I meant it as a compliment for my boyfriend, who I love."

Driving us away, he says, "I've decided you can't help yourself, so I'm no longer going to complain that you use the L-word every three or four minutes."

Taking my cell phone out, I snap a picture of Billy's profile. He glances at me, "Why did you do that?"

"I want to show my friend at work how cute my boyfriend is."

Shaking his head slowly, he goes, "You are way too gay, Gary!" Smiling, he adds, "I'm overlooking that too, though, because I like you despite your overly enthusiastic and fairly immature utterances."

Omigod, I can't stop grinning; he's so perfect.

Billy says, "Here's some good news. I was looking for something to wear in my brother's bedroom and found a stash of joints he forgot he had."

I'm like, "How do you know he forgot them?"

"Because this morning he left for college with my dad, without the joints."

I ask, "Why'd he leave so early? Labor Day is four days from now."

Shrugging, he mutters, "I don't know, nor do I care. He and Chickie are away; that makes me smile."

I'm like, "You're always smiling. Are Chickie and your brother friends?"

Billy laughs, "Nope. My bro is older than Chickie, so they weren't in the same high school class. He's never liked him; not at all. Hell, hardly anybody likes Chickie."

Nodding, I mutter, "Yeah, you can count me among those who don't like him, but what do you think his problem is?"

Shrugging, Billy goes, "I don't know. Well, he's always been an arrogant, pushy guy, but I don't think he has any self-esteem. He fakes it by being a bully. That's my best guess."

I go, "He's an older version of Ron Smart, huh?"

Shrugging again, he mumbles, "Maybe, um, I don't know Smart as well as I know Chickie, so I can't say. I grew up with Chickie next door, ya know?"

He tells me the stash he found in his brother's bedroom contained eight joints. One of which Billy has in his shirt pocket, and the rest are hidden in the garage.

When he parks the SUV behind the Sear's dumpster, we get out to put the second and third rows of bench seats down, then get in the back and make out, or buddy up as Billy calls it, for twenty minutes or so.

After that, Billy tells me to open the end door of the van. When I've done that, we smoke one of the stolen joints. Soon, both of us are higher than a kite can fly, and Billy makes out with me again, this time as if we're lovers. Later, I suck his dick; then, over the next hour and a half, we mess around twice, me taking it up my ass on my back both times. Fantastic!

With both of us still feeling very amorous, Billy does more intense lovers' buddying up. Wow, what a great night! He doesn't drop me off at the house until eleven o'clock, and only then because I finally had to remind him we both need to get up for work in the morning.

I'm walking on clouds going into the house, desperately and obsessively in love. Jeez, I might be going crazy. No, I'm not going crazy because craziness couldn't feel this fabulous. Good to his word, Billy never complained all night when I called him boyfriend or said I was in love with him. His buddying up tonight made me feel deeply desired, and he twice called me his boyfriend. Of course, then he added that I was his magical haircut boyfriend, not a real one.

Yes, he clarified it, but only after he sincerely referred to me like that; plus, his clarification didn't have any oomph behind it. He said it with a big smile, making it seem like our insider joke.

Also, I forget how the topic came up, but he told me he always shaved before a date with me. I told him he didn't need to on my account, and he said he wanted to be his best for me. Of course, he then felt he needed to add that he only used the word "date" in its broadest possible connotation. Haha, he works pretty hard at rationalizing away his gay feelings for me, plus he doesn't have much more of a beard than the scarce one I have, so...

Thursday morning, I'm outside waiting for George to pick me up for our last day of this six-day shift at Weis Market; it's also the last day George is working there until next summer.

In his car, not knowing if his date last night with Sheldon turned out good or bad, I waited for him to bring it up. He never did as we talked about the weather and if he'd miss working at the market.

Then, at the noon break, he shrugged and said, "Oh, I meant to tell you, Gary. Um, last night with Sheldon went surprisingly well. It was as if we'd been together a few weeks ago instead of two years ago."

Whew, I'm glad to hear that. Exhaling smoke from one of George's cigarettes, I go, "That's great, George! Um, doesn't Sheldon have a nickname? The name Sheldon deserves a nickname, don't you think?"

He grins, "Yeah, well, he goes by Mike sometimes since his last name is Michaels."

Nodding, "So, does he look the same as he did in high school?"

George goes, "He's still slim, but his hair is longer, and he doesn't wear eyeglasses now. He told me had Lasik surgery on both eyes."

Grinning, I'm like, "How about his eyebrows?" We both snicker like little kids, then he goes, "Yeah, he still has the monstrous eyebrows."

George tells me they had some beers, talked about old times, laughed a lot, and it was a good enough time to hook up again on Saturday night.

I'm like, "I was hoping to hear some juicy parts."

He laughs, "We had a friendly, for old time's sake, quick kiss goodnight, but there were no juicy parts. Not yet, but Saturday night could be different. How'd your date go last night?"

I told him how romantic Billy was, how long our make-outs lasted, and that Billy didn't want me to go.

George nods his head, "I'm not surprised he's fallen for you, Gary. You're an adorably hard guy to resist, to begin with, plus you're openly throwing yourself at him, so he must be enormously flattered."

I grin, "Yeah, I'm winning him over. He always says he's taking care of me, looking out for me, and likes me enough to overlook that I'm so gay."

"What's he mean you're so gay? I can't see how anyone would know you're gay unless you told them you were."

Stepping on my cigarette butt, I'm like, "He says that thing about me being too gay because I'm always telling him that I'm in love with him, and I insist on calling him my boyfriend."

George chuckles, "That poor bastard doesn't have a chance. He's also the luckiest fuck on the planet having you panting after him."

Holding up a finger, I say, "Oh, I just remembered," and take out my phone to show him the picture I took of Billy's profile.

Looking at the photo, George nods his head, "Yeah, I see what you mean. He has a cute profile, the lucky bastard. And, wow, I just noticed that you guys have the same haircut. Aw, that's so sweet."

I'm like, "Uh-huh, he says our haircuts have magical powers. Um, is he cuter than Sheldon/Mike?"

He shrugs, "Yeah, he is. First of all, Mike looks as if he could be thirty years old. He has matured looks, while Billy looks his age. He's nineteen, right?"

I go, "I think he told me he's about to turn twenty. He'll be twenty a couple of weeks after I turn eighteen."

Putting my phone in my pocket, I say, "I'm going to miss taking breaks with you, George."

"Me too, Gary, but we can still get together for golf, bowling, seeing a movie, or just hanging out. You know, whenever you're not with him."

I go, "Absolutely! You're my best friend."

He says, "We've got three minutes left of our break, and no one is out here with us today, so how about paying up on that friendship kiss you owe me from the other day?"

Smiling, I say, "Yep, I pay my debts," and we saunter over to the dumpster. Behind it, grinning, George goes, "Pay up."

We kiss on the lips, then he hugs me and kisses my cheek, murmuring, "I'm going to miss seeing you every day," He kisses my cheek again, then gives me a tight squeeze. Stepping back, he says, "Yes, that was nice. Thank you! That will hold me over until we get together again sometime soon."

Walking into the building, I mumble, "Um, we're getting together again in less than two hours for golf."

He chuckles, "Yeah, I know, but it sounded more dramatic the way I said it. As if I was going off to war or something." We snicker, bump fists, "I'll see you at two o'clock, George."

George and I golf after work, and then Billy calls to tell me his mom is using the SUV tonight, and can I get my mom's car? I can, but it's not an SUV, so we have limited space in the back seat to buddy up behind the dumpster. Still, the buddying up is hot, and we manage to mess around twice, which is Billy's limit on our dates. He told me he'd do it more often if we had all night. That's something special to look forward to, but I'm satisfied with the two times. I'm more than satisfied; I'm enthralled.

I can't explain precisely how specifically he does it, but lately, Billy has a way of treating me special as if he's trying to accommodate all I desire to totally please me. No, he doesn't articulate his love for me, but he demonstrates it in how he treats me and holds me while doing his gentler romantic way of making out. I feel his desire for me, and it is beautiful beyond words.

Also, I've been right in adopting the girl/guy role in our relationship because Billy most certainly has a monopoly on the guy role. And I don't mean only because he's the top for our messing around, but afterward too, when he holds me in his arms, caressing me, kissing, and doing little wet licks on my neck, ear, or under my chin. We're in love; it's as simple and complicated as that.

So now, I have six days off work. Unfortunately, I don't see George or Billy on Labor Day, though. We all have family barbecues that we're expected to be a part of. I think about Billy the whole day and, eventually, need to slip away to jerk off in my room looking at the photo I took of him in profile.

The next day both George and Billy have various things to do getting ready for college, so I don't see them on Tuesday either. Billy picks me up Wednesday night, though, and, wow, it's as if we're in sexual heat for one another, hugging and kissing like mad. Billy doesn't even bother to be casually cool about it. He missed me the past two days as much as I missed him.

As he drove me home, he murmured, "This boyfriend shit of yours makes for some hot buddying up and messing around, huh?"

"Yes, I never imagined I could love anyone as much as I love you, not in my wildest dreams."

Glancing at me with a huge smile on his face, he goes, "I told you I'd take care of you, didn't I?"

I squeeze his shoulder to feel him, "Yeah, you did, and you are."

Idling at my house, he goes, "Nobody can see us, so, what the hell; I'll give you a kiss goodnight."

Unhooking my seat belt, I lean over, and he puts his arms around the back of my neck, giving me a sloppy kiss, then licking over my top lip and up the front of my nose. His arms around my neck, he holds his head back, looking at me, smiling and murmuring, "There, now you have a little part of me, heh heh, my spit to remind you of me until I see you again."

He's so romantic.

And the world turns *******************

Now that the college semester has been in play a few weeks, it's apparent I'm not able to see nearly as much of Billy as I'd become used to. Yeah, he's more conscientious about his studies than I expected. The same for George, who wants to take enough time to settle into a routine as a sophomore at Drexel. That's further complicated because he isn't getting along with his roommate.

Billy's commuting to the college, a forty-five-minute drive each way under normal conditions, and much worse getting to his eight o'clock class on Friday mornings during rush hour. He's flustered by the drive, making it more difficult for him to get into the rhythm of going to college. Still, we see each other two or three times a week and have wonderful dates.

Our dates are often on Sunday and Wednesday nights because he doesn't have a class on Thursday or Monday. Then, we'll have an afternoon date in my bedroom when my Mom's work schedule coincides with Billy's free time.

I miss George at work as I knew I would, plus now I need to buy my own cigarettes, ha-ha! John Baxter hired a part-time guy to replace George. He's a high school kid who works a three-to-six shift five days a week. I see him occasionally when I'm working the late shift, but he's not friendly. On my breaks, I mostly walk around smoking a cigarette, sometimes stopping at the dumpster to reminisce.

George texts me a lot, sometimes from class. He'll text, 'I may die of boredom, Gary. Pls, come to my funeral.' And stuff like that. Once, he texted, 'I saw a guy who I think is gay! I'm going to ask him for a light.' Then, ten minutes later, 'The fucker ignored me!'

George doesn't have a class on the weekends, so that's when we usually golf or go to the driving range. Sheldon/Mike goes to Temple University, and they've been dating at least one night a week, although they haven't messed around yet. George tells me every detail, although there isn't a helluva lot to tell. I'm telling him all about Billy's and my messing around, but now I tone it down so George won't feel too bad that Mike hasn't come across yet.

After six weeks, I've accepted that this is all the time I can expect from George and Billy. At Billy's insistence, every third Tuesday, we visit Uncle Tony's barbershop for fresh haircuts, and, as I mentioned, if Mom's at work, after our haircuts, Billy and I buddy up and mess around in my bed for two hours. Those times are so deliciously wonderful I don't have words to describe them.

Riding my bike to and from work is a bitch now that the weather is getting colder. As I'm peddling, I think about George, hoping he hooks up with a guy who gets him more excited than Mike, and I hope Billy doesn't find a guy he likes better than me. He hasn't found one yet. Billy calls me every day, and we talk for a long time, plus he's hungry for me when we're together. He blurts out compliments and kisses me like a lover. It's as if he can't get enough of me. Of course, I never get enough of him.

I'm disappointed in myself for doing it, but I'm back jerking off like a madman the days I don't have a date with Billy. I suppose I shouldn't be so hard on myself because everybody jerks off, right? By now, I have twenty photos of Billy on my phone but spend too much time looking at them. Often the images initiate a round of masturbating.

There can't be too many people in the world as much in love as I am with Billy Underwood. Yeah, it'd be impossible to be more in love than I am and highly unlikely to be as much in love.

During the Thanksgiving break from college, Billy and I have a lot of dates, although we don't always have an opportunity to mess around during all of them, especially the daytime dates. That's okay, though, because having lunch together at a sub shop or McDonald's it's thrilling just to see and listen to him. He's happy we're together, smiling like mad and touching me, putting his arm across my shoulders, squeezing me with his head close to mine, asking, "How are you doing without me taking care of you all the time?"

Ha-ha, he asks me that same thing during most of our telephone conversations too. I always reassure him that I'm much better with him than without him and that I think about him all the time, missing him enormously. And none of that is a lie. I'm conscious that people observing the way we interact in public probably assume we're gay boyfriends, which we are, although Billy is oblivious that we're acting like that. He's more naive than he thinks he is.

During the short Thanksgiving break, Billy and I saw a college basketball game at the Palestra, and another night, we went to the movies. One night he had to go with his family to visit relatives, so George and I went to the same film Billy, and I saw. I didn't mention that to George because he was anxious to see the movie.

Then, one afternoon, the temperature was in the fifties, so George and I played a round of golf at the par-three course. The grass turned brown, but the course was pretty good overall. He showed me two selfies of himself and Sheldon, and I was like, "He's, um, okay looking."

George laughed, then said, "You're my ideal boyfriend, Gary. Does Mike look anything like you?"

I grin, "I have better eyebrows for sure."

The other thing I noticed is that Sheldon/Mike is Hispanic, not that that matters. It's just something I thought George would have mentioned. Also, Sheldon is a curious name for Hispanic parents to give one of their sons. Hell, it's curious any parent would name their son that. I'm not sure why I think that, except I've never known or heard of anyone named Sheldon except in that TV show.

So, I saw either Billy or George every day during their college Thanksgiving break except Thanksgiving day. Then, too quickly, college was back in play, and it was a return to pre-Thanksgiving getting together. That was a letdown, but winter break, or Christmas break, if one prefers to call it that, is coming up soon, and that break lasts over three weeks.

The second Saturday in December, I'm at Billy's house watching him pump air in the front tire of his bike. He's again bitching about the drive to and from college and asking when I thought I'd get the apartment. I'm hemming and hawing about how hard it is to get a full-time job when his father comes out on the back porch. He says, "Did I hear you say you're interested in a full-time job, Gary?"

Surprised he overheard us, I go, "Um," and Billy says, "Yes, he is. Do you have one for him?"

His dad says, "Not me specifically, but the office manager is considering hiring someone as a combination, office boy, stockroom/mailroom clerk, and package carrier between offices, and whatever else. He's fed up with UPS. I don't know what the position will pay, but I could recommend you for an interview, Gary. I mean, if you're interested."

Billy and I look at one another, then Billy asks me, "Well, are you interested?"

He said that, implying I need to speak up! I nod, "Yes, Mr. Underwood, I'm very interested in interviewing for the job."

He pats my shoulder, "You seem like a good kid. Um, you have a driver's license, and you're eighteen, right?" I say, "Sure, I have a driver's license, but I won't be eighteen until March."

He frowns, asking, "So, how the hell did you graduate high school?"

Billy lies, "He skipped a grade. Gary's wicked smart." He knows I started first grade when I was five, not skipped a grade.

Walking to his car, his dad says, "I don't know how quickly Randy wants to start this new position, but I'll mention you're interested. Okay?"

I enthusiastically say, "Thank you so much!"

As Mr. Underwood backs his car out of the driveway, Billy mutters, "Not only am I looking out for you, now my old man is too." A little later, Billy and I mess around in the garage.

Riding my bike home, my ass itchy from the lube Billy wiped on his dick from the condom, plus there's cum that hasn't leaked out yet, so I'm pushing a finger at my asshole while trying not to get overly excited about the full-time job possibility. It's a long shot, but it's better than no shot.

Mr. Underwood's office is in Philadelphia, so there's public transportation to and from the office, which is an essential factor. And acting as a carrier between offices, I'd use the company van, so that'll work too. Sure, it'll be awkward working in the same office as Billy's father, but nothing's perfect.

During dinner, I tell my parents about the possibility of finally getting a full-time job. Dad says, "What about college next fall? I thought we'd agreed on that."

I'm like, "You agreed on that. I never committed to it, but I'm favorably considering it now."

I'm considering it because I want to be with Billy. Mom says, "That's wonderful, Gary! Dad and I will cosign a college loan."

I tell them what an awful time Billy has with the heavy traffic to and from college, then add, "Here's what I'm thinking. Um, if I get this full-time job, I'll look into renting a low-cost efficiency apartment within walking distance to the campus and begin taking night courses in preparation for a full-time college schedule in the fall."

Dad goes, "And how would you pay for the apartment once you begin the full-time college schedule?"

Swallowing a medium-rare piece of roast beef, I say, "Mom, this is a delicious dinner."

She goes, "Thank you, sweetheart. It's Black Angus beef."

Dad goes, "How are you going to pay for an apartment as a college student?"

I'm like, "The gravy and mashed potatoes are..." Dad interrupts, "Gary!"

Chuckling, I say, "The college loan can include living expenses. I looked it up online, Dad."

Actually, Billy looked it up online when we were excitedly talking about our apartment after hearing about the full-time job opportunity. Mom says to my dad, "William, that's what my brother Tony did for Julia when she went to Northwestern, living on campus."

Dad says, "Well, Gary, your mom and I are willing to work with you on the college expenses now that you're taking college seriously."

I nod, "You were right all along, Dad. I don't want to work at minimum wage jobs all my life."

He says, "Yeah, well, whether you get the full-time job or not, you don't need the apartment until you begin classes in the fall. This spring, we'll all go out there and see what's available. In the meantime, you need to apply for admittance, not that that will be a problem."

Yes, I DO need the apartment!

I won't push it any further now, though. Plus, Billy already got the paperwork for me to fill out for admittance. I'll wait to see if I get the job. If I do, I can talk Dad into okaying the apartment by taking night classes at college. Hot shit, this might work. The idea of Billy and me sleeping together is breathtaking.

Then college winter break begins, and it's the same for me seeing Billy and George as happened during the short Thanksgiving break a few weeks back. The only mention of my full-time job possibility comes from Mr. Underwood, who told Billy that that project is on hold until after the first of the year.

As winter weather sets in for real, the topic of conversation is mostly Billy and George talking to me about their grades, their final exams this semester, and so forth... in great detail. That's understandable since it's the focus of their lives right now, so I force myself to be interested in hearing their complaints about this professor or that one and how unfair this or that exam was. Still, it brings back tedious memories of my high school experience, learning and memorizing nonsensical information. It also reminds me of what I'll be focusing on next year when I'm going to college.

Not encouraging!

They're both doing well. with their studies, though, which is a relief because I'd hate to think what it would be like if they weren't. They're both super conscientious about getting good grades, too, although I'm not sure I'll be able to match that when I jump into college studies with both feet this Fall. I sense that Billy will be worst than my parents were about me getting good grades. Haha, that might be fun, though.

Anyway, there's a New Year's Eve party that one of the girls in the neighborhood is throwing. Her parents are out of town, so Billy says we should go because it'll be a blast. He's invited, naturally, and he wants me to go with him. I was like, "Do you mean as your date?" He said, "Don't be absurd! We're going stag, is all."

Well, we didn't go stag or otherwise because it started snowing during the night of the twenty-ninth and continued all day the thirtieth. Twenty inches of snow by three o'clock on New Year's Eve day. Nobody left their house on New Year's Eve.

The snow gets plowed, and life goes on. Billy went back to college activities on the third of January, and I went to work at the market. John Baxter was good about coordinating Mom's and my part-time work schedules. We're on the same shifts now, so I can ride to work with her. Riding my bike in winter wasn't working out too well for me. George had spoiled me by driving me to and from work.

Near the end of January, during Sunday dinner, Mom and Dad talk about this coming Friday, hoping a snowstorm doesn't delay their flight to Florida.

Oh, boy, I'd forgotten about this until now. Last October, Dad was one of the salesmen qualifying in a sales contest for a three-night stay at some fancy hotel in Palm Springs for him and Mom.

They delayed their trip to the sunshine state until the winter miseries of the Northeast set in, and now that it has, the all-expenses-paid trip has finally been scheduled. I'm happy for them and wicked happy for Billy and me. He mentioned a sleepover weeks ago, bemoaning we're too old for that sort of thing.

With the house all to myself next weekend, however, we're going to have our sleepover, and I don't care how old we are. After saying that, we'll want to come up with a reason for Billy's spending a night or two with me. A reason that makes sense to his parents. I'm a good liar, so between Billy and me, I'm sure we can do that.

This is exciting news that I can't wait to tell Billy about during our date tonight. This semester, like the last semester, Billy didn't schedule a class on Mondays in case he's hungover or tired after a busy weekend. So, we have a date every Sunday night due to this good planning on his part.

He picks me up at seven, not eight like during the summer, as it's dark early this time of year. As soon as I get in the SUV, Billy says very fast, "Dad told me at dinner that the office manager at work posted the full-time job opening he told us about weeks ago. He mentioned you to the man, and now you need to call him to set up an interview. Don't fuck this up, Gary. Wear a suit and act intelligently. Do you have a suit?"

I go, "Yeah, of course, I have a suit. Um, if it still fits me. Damn, I'm nervous now. You're making me nervous. Who do I call and when?"

He goes, "I'm excited too. Ah, Dad gave me the guy's name and phone number on a piece of paper. Call tomorrow morning first thing before he hires somebody else."

Nodding, I mumble, "Yeah, okay. Did your dad say anything else?"

Billy drives onto the Sears parking lot, bumps over a pile of leftover snow, curses, then mutters, "No, what else could he say? He did what he promised, and the rest is up to you."

I mumble, "But I won't be eighteen until March. Why couldn't that manager have decided to go through with his plans a month from now?"

Billy parks behind the dumpster and takes off his seat belt, saying, "Let's get in the back."

We get out, put down the second and third row of seats, then climb in and take our coats off. Billy murmurs, "Scoot over," and when I do, he puts his arms around me, "Calm down, Gary. You're getting yourself all worked up. Tomorrow morning you need to Google how to get a job interview, then call the guy. And sound confident! Okay?"

Snuggling in against him, I nod, "Sure, I'll call, but I don't know about the confident part. Googling is a good idea, though."

Billy hugs me, "The guy won't tell you to come right in for the interview. It'll be later in the week. That's good, though, because we missed last week's haircut. It's been a month since our last one, and you'll want to look sharp."

I rub the side of my face against his, and he kisses my cheek, mumbling, "This could be big. We'll have our apartment, and then we can mess around all we want, whenever we want."

That reminds me to tell Billy about next weekend. I tell him, and he goes, "Holy shit! Your parents will be in Florida for four days! We can get a taste of what it'll be like when we have our apartment."

He said, "OUR apartment."

I go, "Yeah, but what reason can you give your parents for spending two or three nights at my house?"

He thinks for a minute, then says, "Hmm, yeah, it would seem kinda gay without a good reason to do that. Do you have any suggestions?"

I mumble, "You could tell your parents you're gay for me."

He laughs aloud, then says, "Nah, I don't like lying to them. What else you got?"

Still snickering at my first suggestion, I say, "How about if you say you have a big homework project for college, but your computer froze, so you need to use mine?"

He goes, "And what if my mom says I can use her computer?"

I go, "You could say you don't like her computer, explaining further how using my computer you can also mess around with me taking it up my ass."

He laughs again, then says, "Get serious!"

We joke around coming up with other ludicrous reasons for him spending the weekend at my house, then he says, "Fuck this. I'm almost twenty 'effing years old. I don't need to explain why I'm doing this or that."

I'm like, "Then we're right back to a sleepover being sort of a gay thing to do." Snickering, he goes, "Well, yeah, there's that little wrinkle to work out, sure."

We buddy up a little, Billy murmuring, "I'll think of something, Gary, don't worry."

Then, "Mmm, you smell good," and we're back into our hot and sexy lover's making out with my dick so hard it's borderline painful. Billy grunts and pulls my jeans down as I'm tugging at my underpants. Breathing hard, he fumbles at getting his khakis down as I lie on my back, my legs bent, spread, an arm around each one.

His pudgy five-inch boner is sticking straight out from his pubic patch as he gasps, pushes behind my legs, and thrusts the precum wet head of his hard cock inside me. Without lubricant, I expected it will hurt, and it does. I grind my teeth, my face all scrunched up as Billy murmurs, "Sorry, Gary," then slowly pushes his boner inside me.

It hurts all the way in, but it's thrilling knowing he couldn't wait. With a hand on either side of me, his hard sex organ fully inside me, he leans down, and our lips meet for a sweet kiss that lasts ten seconds, the pain quickly backing off.

When Billy breaks off the kiss, he asks, "Are you okay, boyfriend?" I nod, "Yes, I'm always okay when I'm with you."

His brilliant smile glows, "That's because I'm always taking care of you, and I'm always doing that because I like you better than anybody I've ever known."

Grinning, I murmur, "Or ever expect to know."

He snickers, mumbling, "Maybe," and, moving only his hips, pulls his cock back. I shudder at the combination of pain and pleasure, sensations that are hard to tell apart.

Looking into my eyes, he pushes his cock back in as I shudder again. Then, with a grin on his face, his dimples looking cute, his hips move back, and this time pleasure completely overtakes the hurt.

I go, "Ahh, mmm. Do it, Billy." Two more times, he pulls back and pushes in, and it's smoother going now.

Billy murmurs, "We've got it going good now," and then it's shorter, faster thrusting, "Slap, slap, slap," as I moan, "Oh, oh, oh. I love you, Billy."

The thrill ride begins, pleasure swarming all over me, my back arching, my arms around his neck, pulling his head next to mine, and it's, "Slap, slap, slap," as we drift together in a cloud of pleasure that's too overwhelming to contemplate fully. Three minutes later, my climax of hot sizzling semen splashes between us, Billy making a short squeal as he unloads his cum inside me.

Still fully impaling me, Billy clings to me, gasping for air, rocking me back and forth on my curved spine. We both shiver and shudder, then slowly relax. Blinking as if he's waking from a dream, Billy slowly sits up, my arms sliding off him. He bites his bottom lip and slowly pulls his dick from my ass as I go, "Ahh."

His penis flops against the inside of his right leg as Billy sits against the back of the front seat and murmurs, "Sit up with me, Gary."

I do that with my back against his chest, sitting between his legs, his arms around me. "There ya go. How'd you like that messing around? It didn't hurt your amazing ass too much, did it?"

It's wet sitting on the cum that drooled out of my rear end, "You took care of me about as spectacular as it's possible to take care of anyone."

Kissing the side of my neck and under my chin, he murmurs, "That's because I like you so much." My head is against his shoulder, a contented smile on my lips. He again called me his boyfriend.

I happily listen to Billy's pleasant boyish-sounding voice as he tells me about a test he aced in Economics. Then he says, "I'm majoring in marketing because it's the highest paying business administration degree today. That's what you'll take too. I'll help you get your B.S. degree, but you'll need to work hard too. I can only look out for you so much."

He runs his fingers back through my hair, "Are you listening, Gary?"

I mumble, "Yes, I heard every word and agree with everything you said."

He mutters, "I could kick myself for overlooking our haircuts last week. They might lose their magical quality if ignored like this too often."

I go, "Uh-huh, we wouldn't want that."

Sticky cum on my buttocks or not, I'm as comfortable and contented as can be lying back against Billy as he tells me, "I'll make sure you stick to your studies. Did you know that only one in four freshmen graduate after four years? Even after six years, less than sixty percent graduate, and at community college, the percentage is as low as twenty percent graduating. We're going to be in the one in four groups."

It'll be fun having Billy hounding me to study. Hell, whenever I'm the center of his attention, it's awesome! After some buddying up, Billy mumbles, "Let's clean up a little."

He reaches over to the pouch on the back of the passenger seat, saying, "Mom bought a new box of Handiwipes. Hee hee, she asked me what happened to the box that was in here?"

He rips open a packet, "Lean forward, Gary." I get on all fours and push my ass up, but he doesn't wipe my ass. He wiped the carpeted floor where I was sitting. He has his priorities. Looking back, I see him opening another packet to wipe his limp dick.

Two more packets get ripped open; he mutters, "I guess I need to take care of you with this too," and he wipes his cum off my ass, then puts the last Handiwipe on the floor, "Sit on this, buddy."

Sitting on the Handiwipe between his legs again, I lean back, and his arms come around me as he mumbles, "That last messing around really felt good, didn't it?"

He likes to be complimented for his superior topping. I go, "You're the best. It felt awesome." He rubs his hand from my forehead back over my head, murmuring, "How would you know that I'm the best when I'm the only one you've ever messed around with?"

"I just know, that's all."

He likes to run his fingers in my hair. Doing that now, he murmurs, "You have the prettiest hair, Gary."

Then he sputters, "See; I can't help myself! Looking out for you gets me doing and saying all this gay shit. Shit that I'd never do with anyone else. It shocks the hell out of me that I'm able to do it with you, and now I'm thinking I'll probably need to continue doing this with you until you graduate."

Maybe even longer than that.

He pulls my hair, "Are you listening to me?"

Nodding my head against his shoulder, I say, "Yes, of course I am. I get emotional hearing you say all that stuff, Billy, and I'm very grateful to you too."

He mutters, "Okay, then. As long as you appreciate it."

We're quiet for a bit, but Billy doesn't like silence, so he goes, "Damn, though, ha-ha, it feels good taking care of you."

I'm like, "I just thought of something." He licks my ear, "What is it?"

"Even if I get that full-time job, my parents argue that I don't need an apartment. My plan, however, is to take night courses. I'm hoping they'll eventually give in on the apartment because they want me to go to college so badly. Going full-time to college, they've already agreed to me getting an apartment."

Billy makes a breathy sound of annoyance, muttering, "What are you getting at?"

"Well, I didn't think they cared about me going to college, but I was wrong about that. Anyway, here's the important part; your college loan for next year needs to include living expenses. That way, we'll split the cost of the apartment, which will help ease my parent's concerns, plus be an obvious reason for us spending the weekend together."

He says, "Hmm, that makes sense. The driving is killing me in the fucked up traffic, and parking is a nightmare too."

I go, "Not to mention the price of gas nowadays."

We talk about that a bit, then I say, "After we convince our folks this is a good plan, then we'll tell them we want to be sure we're compatible sharing the apartment, which is the reason you're spending this coming weekend with me."

He snickers, "You've got a sneaky way of thinking, doncha? Genius plan, boyfriend! I didn't know you were so devious. And you're right; the loans will belong to us, so there's no reason the larger size of the loan for living expenses should be our parent's concern."

I go, "Yep, but parents have a hard time letting go of the reins. They think they know best even though we become adults, legally, at age eighteen."

This seems like a brilliant workable plan. I'm like, "The other thing is, even if I start a full-time job in Match, I won't get an apartment until May at the earliest."

Billy goes, "Hey, May will be our one-year anniversary of that time we walked four miles home together."

Oh boy, he said our anniversary!

I go, "When we're in our apartment, we'll need to stock up on the Butterscotch Krimpets, obviously."

He chuckles, hugs me, then says, "You've got some great ideas percolating in that cute head."

Later, we mess around again, doing it standing this time. Omigod, fucking while standing is another excellent way to mess around. Billy's arms tightly around me, his hips moving like a well-oiled machine, his chubby hard penis like a piston firing back and forth inside my rectum, creating sexual pleasure that poets would need to work overtime trying to describe the beauty inherent in this way of messing around.

Billy didn't even consider using lube from a condom. Tonight he's into doing bareback riding hard and fast, "Slap, slap, slap!" "Ah, ah ah." "Umm, umm, umm."

Yeah, it's kinda rough on the head of his cock and my anus, but sharing the pain and pleasure, we blow off hard climaxes that leave us with pounding hearts, gasping for breath, while the pleasure of a lifetime soars through our bodies.

As I whimper and shudder at the brilliant sensations of that orgasm, Billy pulls his dick out. Then, with cum dripping from his cock, he turns me around so we can hug and kiss, exuberant about our shared sexual experience.

Letting go of me, Billy grabs some Handiwipes and hands two of them to me, saying, "Damn, that felt good. Ah, how about wiping up your streak of jism, Gary."

I wipe at the cum on the floor, mumbling, "I'll remember the back of this SUV forever."

Billy wipes his dick, "Me too, although it'll be so much hotter of a memory messing around in bed."

We clean up and get our pants on, then our coats, and stand outside the van smoking a cigarette. Billy says, "I forgot to bring a joint with me tonight. Getting high is fun, but you and I get high messing around, you know?"

Nodding, "Our messing around highs are a hundred times better than getting high smoking grass."

He goes, "They're different kinds of highs, but I kind of agree with you."

Smiling, he rubs my head, "You're becoming 'effing habit-forming."

Shrugging and grinning, I mutter, "You too."

As he's driving me home, he gives me the paper with the name and number of the office manager I need to call about the job.

He asks, "Hey, is your mom working tomorrow afternoon? I don't have a class on Mondays, so..."

I remind him that Mom and I work the same shifts now. He mutters, "Oh, yeah. That sucks!"

I go, "I'll call this guy for an interview in the morning. Um, when do you want to get our haircuts?"

Driving up to my house, Billy says, "I always have some homework I need to do for college in the morning. How about if I pick you up around two o'clock, and we'll get our haircuts?"

Idling at the curb in front of my house, I'm like, "Sure, two o'clock. I'll text you when I know about the interview."

Unlatching my seatbelt, I lean over, and Billy gives me a kiss goodnight, then he says, "Don't fuck up that interview thingamajig."

I mutter, "I won't," and get out saying, "I love you, Billy. Tonight was awesome."

He nods and smiles, "Yeah, it was," then drives away.

I'm nervous about calling the guy, but I'll follow Billy's advice and Google for tips on how not to fuck up a job interview.

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com

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