Invited

Chapter 16

( Happiness )

Tuesday at ten o'clock in the morning, George calls me to say he doesn't have classes today and asks do I want to hang out. I do, and we agree we'll go to the driving range. When he picks me up a half-hour later, he gets out to open the trunk; I put my driver in there, and we do a guy hug, saying, "Hi, bud!"

Inside the car, as I fasten my seatbelt, he says, "Damn, Gary, there's a sparkle in your eyes. I'm guessing everything is going well with you and your guy, whatshisname."

I nod, "Yes, thanks, George. His name is Billy Underwood, and our relationship is progressing pretty well."

No, I don't want to show how excited I am about things going so spectacularly for Billy and me. Bragging about us when George isn't having much success with his guy would be wrong.

He looks cool, wearing a black parka with a black knit cuffed beanie. Hmm, Billy thinks my Koda Cap is dorky, so I wonder if he'd consider a cuffed beanie like George is wearing an okay winter hat?

Driving us away, George says, "I wish I could say Sheldon and I are doing well, but he's kaput already. He got too damn bossy, so I dumped him. Plus, those fucking eyebrows of his, ha-ha."

I chuckle, "Yeah, if a guy's eyebrows are the first thing you think about, I can see how that might work against something meaningful long-term."

Like Billy, George has a beautiful smile. He has those big brown eyes, too, plus creamy smooth light-brown skin and soft dark brown wavy hair. He's sort of beautiful for a guy; he really is.

Unfortunately, his good looks aren't helping him much with his love life. Some years ago, he had a boyfriend, but that's been it for boyfriends since then, plus his latest romance, as he just mentioned, didn't last very long. He goes on dates, but his standard for boyfriends is so particular it limits his options significantly.

He claims I'm his idea of a perfect boyfriend, which is embarrassing to mention because it might make someone think I'm conceited. Nothing could be further from the truth, though. I'm okay looking, but I need some more muscular definition in my slightly skinny body.

On the other hand, George's body is hot, with broad shoulders, a good physique, and a chubby six-inch pecker. Haha, I had to mention his dick, ya know?

What I'm saying is if he weren't so picky, he'd have zero problems finding a boyfriend. In the back of my mind, I'm thinking maybe I'll get George to have lunch with Mark and me. Mark is that exceptionally cute redhead I had lunch with after my interview at United Paper Products in Philly. That day, two girls in line at the food truck said Mark and I look like brothers, so George might be interested in going out with him. Another thing, of course, is if Mark will be interested in going out with George.

The only minor criticism I have of George is he drives a little too cautiously. Coming to a jolting and unnecessary stop at a yellow light, George glances at me, "Um, Gary, are you sure the driving range will be open in February?"

I nod, "Yep, I wondered about that too, so I Googled it. They keep the second-level open all winter, and it's partially heated so we can whack away up there to our heart's content."

He snickers, muttering, "whack away."

As were driving along, George told me about his exploits with the guys I met at the party last summer, cool JR and his girlfriend, Tuck, and the tens, Rick and Arnie. I chuckle along with him, glad he's having fun at Drexel even while striking out in the love department.

The thing is, though, some of the hijinks this group gets into sound a bit sophomoric to me, especially compared to the heady stuff Billy and I are into. However, George and his friends are sophomores, so it might be alright that they get involved in sophomoric nonsense. And it's unfair of me to be judgmental anyway, as I've had no experience living in a college dormitory. Maybe you had to have been there to appreciate the situations they get themselves into.

Oh, hell, I'm so wrapped up in Billy's and my love affair that everything else seems trivial, and I know that's unfair. I like George a lot, and he's fun to be with, so today, we had a good time laughing at each other's less impressive golf shots. We have some good golf shots, too, and we're complimentary of those.

Later, we have lunch at the McDonald's in the mall and then, on a whim, see an afternoon movie in an almost empty theater. George goofs around, holding my hand, then puts his arm across my shoulders and pretends to kiss me. I don't mind too much because it's flattering, but it's a bit awkward too. He's a good guy, though, and if it weren't for Billy, I'm pretty sure George and I would end up being boyfriends.

He drops me off a little after five o'clock, and immediately I'm thinking about Billy and how we'll be together in two hours. It's almost an hour before dinner, so I take my time showering and making myself as desirable as possible for Billy, including shaving the fifty soft whiskers in the barely visible blond beard on my chin and upper lip. Then I put on Nivea aftershave lotion mostly because it smells nice, even better than the AXE Body Spray.

Next, I spend ten minutes combing my hair just right. The more I comb and brush it, the more body it has, but I never get the waviness out. Still, it's far better than a head of blond curls.

When I'm satisfied that I've done all I can hygienically and physically, I put on underpants, jeans, a white polo shirt, socks, and sneakers. Nodding at myself in the mirror, I practice my smile. Damn, it still pales in comparison to Billy's. His is so perfect.

At the dinner table, Mom smiles and says, "You're smelling nice, Gary."

Making a face, I mutter, "Please, Mom, don't embarrass me."

Dad swallows some medium-rare steak and goes, "When is your first day working downtown, son?"

I mumble, "The Monday after next. I'm turning in my notice to Weis Market this week."

He goes, "You should have done that yesterday. Give them at least ten days' notice."

Sighing, I mutter, "Okay, I won't wait for Thursday; I'll do it tomorrow." Mom says, "You can borrow my car, honey."

Oh man, parents! Getting that apartment looks like a better and better idea every 'effing day.

After dinner, I wash up again, brush my teeth, gargle with Mom's toxic mouthwash, and then unnecessarily re-comb my hair. At five of seven, I'm outside with my puffer coat on, pacing around, my hands in my pockets. As I'm blowing streams of smoky condensation with every exhale, I snicker at myself for always being outside early because he's never on time.

At least, for a welcome change, Mom didn't pester me that I needed to wear a mask. The Pandemic is mainly ignored now, although some people still wear masks.

Now, I'm convincing myself to be realistic by not expecting Billy to continue being as romantic as he was last night. He was a perfect lover then, but he did say we were both overdoing it. He meant he was overdoing it as a gay boyfriend in love, and he'll probably walk those sentiments back a little tonight. The last two days have been a breakthrough for him, and it must have been difficult for him to finally give up on the bizarre rationalizing away of his gayness.

Yeah, I expect he'll be backing off with the lover-boyfriend stuff, and then I won't see him Wednesday or Thursday when he's studying for midterms. Stupid midterms! Two days without seeing Billy will be hard, but I need to think positively and enjoy the progress we've been making.

Then, my negative concerns about Bily's romantic attitude are eliminated. He drives up in his SUV; the car interior light going on when I open the passenger door and see Billy's brilliant smile as he says, "Wow, you're looking good, Gary! Well, you always do. I think I've got the world's best boyfriend. Hey, how about giving your top guy a big wet kiss."

Wow!

The interior light goes off when I close the door and, hardly believing this, I lean over, smiling at Billy and he gets his arm around the back of my neck and kisses me on the lips like a lover, slow and sexy, then a quick follow-up kiss before he lets go of me and murmurs, "I've decided it's fun and cool being in love."

Shocked, I mumble, "I'll always love you, and you'll always be my hero, Billy."

His hand rubs over the bristling hairs at the crown of my head as he says, "I'm your hero, huh? Okay, that's cool too but put your seatbelt on now, and we'll see how much fun our messing around can be tonight. It was great yesterday."

Sitting back in my seat, "You know, Billy, you're the most perfect boyfriend ever."

He snickers, "Yeah, I'm getting the hang of it, aren't I?"

I mutter, "Nobody could do it better."

Driving us away from the curb on this pitch-black night, he says, "You might be right about that. Hey, did you know it might snow tonight?"

I nod, "Un-huh. My Dad said they're predicting a big snowstorm Friday night too."

He smiles at me, "Well, Friday night, you and I will be snugly in bed so that we won't care; let it snow."

Wow, it seems when Billy gets on a roll with something, in this case, his gay-boyfriend-in-love role, he really gets into it big time! I stare at him as he drives, my heart going thump, thump with love for him as he mutters, "You're staring at me again, but that's alright."

I'm like, "In case I haven't mentioned it recently, I love looking at you."

He grins at me, then mumbles, "Heh-heh, I like that I'm your idol."

"And my hero."

He nods, "Uh-huh. This is weird, but before going to sleep last night, I thought that one of the main reasons, an extremely important one, that we're so perfect together is that, right from the start, you were what you call the girl/guy for me. Probably the only way I could be in a gay-boyfriend relationship is if I'm the guy and you're the, um, sort of the girl. Do you know what I mean? I'm not saying that very well, but I meant no offense."

"No offense taken because you've got it exactly right. You're my perfect top guy, and you always will be."

He goes, "Christ, you give me shivers when you say shit like that. I never feel as confident as I do when taking care of you."

Almost immediately, he adds, "Oh, fuck, that sounded creepy, but I meant it in a good way. Taking care of you is fun because, ha-ha, you are one cute, wicked clean, and adorable motherfucker."

I go, "Jeez, thanks," and, looking at me, he adds thoughtfully, "What I'm trying to say is, I love being with you, Gary. Hell, I can't wait until we're together all the time."

I say, "Me too," and, probably feeling he was too serious saying his true feelings, he adds, "Yeah, it's like you need a shit load of taking care of, so it'll take me twenty-four/seven to do it right. Do you know what I mean?"

Not really, but I grin and mumble, "Sure, I think I know. It's like you just realized you were too serious about wanting us to be together all the time, so you qualified it by joking around saying that last bit of bullshit."

He laughs, then mutters, "Yeah, that's pretty much it. You know me better than anybody, doncha?"

Shrugging at that, I rub his head the way he's constantly rubbing mine. He pulls his head away, "Hey, that's what the guy does to his girl/guy!"

I go, "Oh, okay," and he says, "When I rub your head, it's just a way for me to show you a little affection. Hell, it's the least I can do since you spend most of your time showing me how much you admire, worship, and love me, doing all that in numerous ways. I probably deserve it, though, you know?"

Snickering, I mumble, "You're so consistently modest."

Still, when he gets into something, it's balls to the wall worldwide. I rub his head again, and he smiles at me, "Oh, okay, I guess I'm going to need to give you some extra special messing around tonight, aren't I?"

I go, "Uh-huh, I can hardly wait." He pulls into the Sear lot, muttering, "Me too."

Carefully driving behind the dumpster, he puts the SUV in neutral and turns off the headlights. "Let's get the seats down."

We get out and do that, then climb in the back and slide the doors closed. As we take our coats off, he says, "Good! You know what to do," as I get situated tight against him, both of us against the driver's seat. We never sit against the passenger seat because the pouch with the wipes is hanging on the back of that seat.

He gets his arms around me and rubs his nose on mine, asking, "What did you put on your face? It smells nice, although you smell better without it."

I tell him about shaving and the Nivea aftershave lotion. Ignoring that, he says, "Do you know what surprises and shocks me the most about being your boyfriend?"

"No, what?"

He tightens his arm around me, the side of his face against mine, as he murmurs in my ear, "It's how much I like hugging your body and kissing your lips and your cute face."

I go, "Oh, I didn't know that. Did you like kissing that asshole, Chickie?"

Incredulously, he's like, "What? No, I hated the few times Chickie kissed me, and my early teen experience of messing around with those high school guys was without any kissing. That's why I'm so surprised that I like kissing you."

"Well, thanks! It was different for me, though. Before our first date, the first time we smoked grass together, I thought maybe I could kiss you, but that's all I thought I could do. I didn't think I could do any other type of messing around. Then, if you remember, I did kiss you, and you got mad at me."

He goes, "For fuck sake, that was like eight months ago! I wasn't nearly ready for kissing back then. I wanted you to mess around blowing me, which you were reluctant to do for some odd reason."

Snickering again, I mutter, "Well, that seemed so gross to me at first, but you talked me through it, and I soon fell in love with you and would do anything you wanted."

He mutters, "Yeah, that's another thing I love about you; you do whatever I tell you."

Gently rubbing my face on the side of his smooth face, I murmur, "Yeah, I do, and I'll bet a real girl wouldn't do everything you told her."

He goes, "You're probably right about that, which is why you're better for me than some bitchy snatch. Speaking of doing anything I want, how about if you mess around by sucking my dick until I cum in your mouth. We haven't done that for a while, and you do it so well."

More compliments!

I mutter, "No problem," and he lets go of me. I sit on my knees in front of him, undoing the button on his jeans, saying, "I'll probably cum before you do because I like doing this for you."

Billy goes up on his knees and helps me get his jeans and underwear halfway down his hairless pinkish/white thighs. He goes, "Hell, we're boyfriends, Gary. All you need to do is ask me, and I'll let you suck me off anytime you want."

Picking his dick up in my forefinger and thumb, I mumble, "Thanks, but I like you deciding what type of messing around we do."

He says, "Yeah, sure. Um, this time, do a lot of licking on my balls, okay? That stretches out the experience for me. My dick is too 'effing sensitive."

I'm like, "Sure, but I'll get your dick hard first and then lick and suck on your nuts. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, I guess, but don't make me cum too quickly."

I stroke his flaccid shaft, bend over and lick across his rosy-colored penis head and then do it fast a dozen more times. His hands grab my shoulders for balance as he grunts, "Umm, umm. Jesus..."

I've seen many penises in the locker room's showers, so I can say from experience that Billy's penis, and I need to include mine, are the best-looking ones I've ever seen. There are no gross-looking bends or prominent fat veins to our straight, nicely proportioned shafts and heads, and, as I've already alluded to, they have a pure healthy-looking color. I knew I could put his penis in my mouth when I first saw it, plus he smells good. He's always telling me how I smell good, but so does he. Well, yeah, we're both reasonably fanatical about cleanliness. Hmm, reasonably fanatical is an oxymoron, but what the hell.

There's no taste to his penis, although I'll taste a drop of urine once in a while, which doesn't taste bad, either. He could pee in my mouth, and I wouldn't mind, not that I'm going to suggest it. If he wanted to do that, though, it'd be alright.

After stroking the shaft along with some warm wet licks on the head, his dick firms up, so I cover my teeth with my lips and tightly go down on it a few times. Billy groans and squeezes my shoulders, then mutters, "Not too many times, Gary."

Going down on it a few more times, my nose in his soft pubic hair each time, his dick gets very firm, although not quite a super-hard boner. Pushing it against his belly, I do a long-wet lick across his nicely formed, almost hairless scrotum and feel his nuts against my tongue. I already have a full-fledged boner myself, which I grab and squeeze as I'm feeling his balls vibrating against my tongue, and a moan of deep arousal sneaks out from my throat.

Billy's hands are on my head as he gasps, "Ah, ah, um, that feels good. Move my balls around some more."

Getting my tongue under his scrotum, I lift his balls, then suck on the lower one, and Billy goes, "Holy shit! Uh-huh, yeah, suck on that nut, Gary," his hands rub my head as his hips hump a little.

My lips are around his lower testicle, sucking on it while licking it with my saliva-saturated tongue. He giggles, saying, "Ow, not so hard, but don't stop."

The testicle slips out of my lips, though, so I lick his scrotum more, then get my tongue under it further, almost to his asshole! Billy slides forward, saying, "Just as an experiment, see if your tongue can reach my bum hole."

He told me once he'd never want me to lick that, but I guess he changed his mind. It's okay with me, so I bend my neck and stretch my tongue, still without reaching it. He slides onto his back and pulls his legs out of the way, murmuring, "Try to reach it now."

I've seen many guys' asses, but just their buttocks. Curious, I put a hand on each of Billy's buttocks and spread them. Ha, his is the first full anus I've ever seen. It's pinkish and looks like the tightest closed lips imaginable. It's hard to believe that tight hole could open enough for a fat, hard cock to enter. It does, of course, still... wow.

I'm pretty sure I read somewhere that the lips of the anus are like the lips of your mouth, sort of. They're at opposite ends of the alimentary canal. Talk about hard to believe!

So, let's say I'm right about a person's mouth and anus lips at either end of that canal; the lips at this end here have lost much of their dazzle. Billy's mouth lips are bow-shaped, rosy, and luscious, while the end lips here are not. On the other hand, they look harmless, and I don't smell anything offensive. Hell, I don't smell anything at all. That's not surprising because, as I said, Billy is consistently immaculate.

He mumbles, "Well, I'm holding my 'effing legs back, so do you want to try it? You don't have to, but it might be wicked interesting for you to experience. I mean, you know, as my girl/guy pleasing your guy."

Ha-ha, yeah, something for me to experience. Nobody can rationalize stuff like Billy.

Anyway, I'm still spreading his buttocks, thinking, what the hell? Nudging his scrotum and balls to the side with my nose, I lick right over Billy's asshole, and he squirms, giggling and saying, "That felt amazing."

Uh-huh, I'm not surprised because I read or heard that the anus is super sensitive with lots of nerve endings. Why that is, I find hard to fathom, but I don't doubt it because, when I take Billy's dick in my ass, once my anus those nerve endings feel fabulous.

Anyway, I lick over his asshole again, and he squirms on the floor, "Um, um." Putting my tongue right on it, my nose against his skin next to his nuts, I press on his anus and feel the lips quivering. Oh man, that made me shiver as my dick got harder. Licking over it a few more times, Billy grunts, "I'm going to cum, Gary."

Lifting my head away from his asshole, I quickly put his dick in my mouth and go up and down on it, sensing my climax reaching the tipping point. Then, my mouth comes off his boner as I squeal. "Aahhh!" as cum exploded from my petrified penis, the creamy load splattering on Billy's buttocks. None of the cum got on his asshole because his butt cheeks closed when I let go of them.

I can't catch my breath as Billy jerks around, climaxing, his cum almost hitting the SUV's roof. As it's coming down, I lean back, and with a splat, it lands on Billy's stomach as he's still thrashing around on his back.

Holy shit, it all happened so fast. I felt my climax building one second, and the next second it blew just like that. We both have our dicks in our fists, making gasping breathing sounds, then slowly calming down.

Billy pushes up to a sitting position using his hands to keep his ass off the floor, muttering, "That cum shot of yours hit my 'effing ass. Get some wipes."

He held his buttock off the floor as I grabbed three packets of wipes and ripped them open. Using all three, I wipe under his ass as he snickers, muttering, "How many times have I had to wipe your ass for you? Ha-ha!"

I'm still shaky from that climax coming on me so quickly, "Um, maybe three times, Billy."

He says, "That was a rhetorical question. And it was more than three times, anyway. I really liked you rimming my asshole. That's what it's called, rimming."

Nodding, I mutter, "Rimming, huh? Yeah, it was sexy."

He mumbles, "That was an 'effing good experiment; a first for me, and I'm glad you loved doing it!"

Taking my hand away, Billy sits on his bare ass, his jeans and underpants down to his calves. I'm like, "Everything happened fast, but it was pretty much as intimate as you can get, ya know?"

Billy nods, "Yeah, um, pass me some wipes, and I'll clean this cum off my stomach." Then he laughs, "That was something different, wasn't it?"

I mutter, "Yeah, it was also kind of out of control."

He mumbles, "Not bad for the first time, though. I'll bet you can do it even better, wouldn't you say?"

The first time, hmm?

Somehow, Billy's cum splattered on me, too, so I grabbed a wipe and dabbed at it, mumbling, "Do you like rimming more than me messing around blowing you?"

Billy shrugs, "Well, hmm? You seemed to like rimming me so much it's another ego booster, so maybe I like rimming best. Oh hell, you sucking me off is awesome too. Ya know, I like everything we do together. What do you think, though? Which one do you love doing best?"

I see Billy pulling his pants up, so I pull mine up. Then we sit against the back of the front seat again. He puts his arm around me, and I snuggle against his side, mumbling, "I already told you I liked doing everything for you."

He goes, "Just like doing it, huh?"

"Well, hell, my orgasm came on me so friggin' fast, so I guess I loved doing it. Ya know, I wouldn't consider doing any of our messing around with anyone else, though. Doing it with anyone else seems, um, repulsive."

He says, "You better not mess around with anyone else. How about that Drexel guy; are you doing anything with him?"

Looking at him, I make a face, "You asked me that before. No, George and I are just gay friends. Being gay doesn't mean you can't have platonic gay friends."

He mutters, "That sounds like something I'd tell you, but I wish you wouldn't use the gay word so much. I told you I'm probably gay, but I don't need to hear about gay this and gay that all the time."

When I don't say anything, he murmurs, "Oh, fuck. Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be critical. You can say anything you want."

I still don't say anything, so he goes, "Oh, no, you're not..." and I interrupt him, "No, I'm not pouting. I don't pout!"

He snickers, "Um, yeah, that's right, you don't. Well, maybe you pout a little."

I mutter, "No, I don't."

He snickers, "Of course you don't."

To get off that topic, Billy tells me one of his non-sequiturs. He goes, "Did I tell you about Timothy Jay?"

Shaking my head, I snuggle against him. He says, "Well, he's professor emeritus at some university studying swearing, you know, cursing. He's studied profanity for 40 years, and in the article, he quotes a lot of research on brain emotion that indicates there are benefits in swearing."

I go, "Forty years researching cussing? That's hard to believe."

"Well, whatever, I'm just quoting what it said in the article. Anyway, cussing may show or indicate intelligence, and it's a sign of honesty in the person spouting out expletives. Also, profanity improves pain tolerance, as well as showing creativity. In other words, throwing expletives around is better than throwing punches."

I mumble, "How about a guy throwing both of them around?"

"I didn't read about that, but I liked the idea that cursing shows intelligence."

I say, "We should curse more."

He asks, "Do you know what the most expensive yacht in the world costs?"

Resorting to a non-sequitur of my own, I say, "How much do you think we should pay for our apartment?"

Billy goes, "Oh, yeah. Um, what do you think?"

We discuss that until we conclude, we don't know what we're talking about and agree we need to do some Googling on that topic. Instead, we discussed this weekend and what Billy should bring with him.

He goes, "For one thing, I won't need to bring a lot of clothes as we'll be in bed most of the time."

We chuckle about that and then discuss how many joints he should bring and what booze I need to get. He goes, "It'll be a three-day party, Gary. This weekend will be epic."

I'm like, "Yes, it will, but why do I always need to get the booze?"

He's like, "What the hell you talking about? You're the girl/guy, right?"

I mutter, "Yeah, but so what? That doesn't make any sense. Why is it the girl/guy's job getting booze? That seems more like the thing a guy/guy should do."

He snickers, "I was hoping you wouldn't pick up on that. Heh-heh, we'll both get it, um, somehow."

I tell him how I got someone to buy me booze twice. Also, the time that man said he was a State Trooper. Billy goes, "I gotta hand it to you, Gary. It takes balls approaching those guys. Um, since you have experience, though, maybe I should stay in the car. You know, ready to assist if needed."

Ha-ha, what bullshit!

Chuckling, we talk about it some more, and then somehow, we're rolling around on the floor, giggling, kissing, and groping each other. Not for long, though. Soon our pants are down, and I'm on my stomach, pushing my bare ass up. Billy gets between my legs, his boner in his fingers, guiding it to my anus. It hurts a lot with only Billy's precum as a lubricant, and I grunt, "Oh, OW! Goddamn!".

Billy murmurs, "I'm sorry, Gary," but I'm like, "No, it's okay, push it in all the way."

He mutters, "Fuck, you should be my hero instead of the other way around."

My eyes are closed, and I'm holding my breath, biting my bottom lip during the ten seconds it takes for each of the remaining four inches of his boner to go inside me.

When it's in all the way, a wave of relief drifts over me. Billy gently rubs his hands on my back, murmuring, "I shouldn't have done that, but I kind of lost it there for a second. Are you okay?"

I mutter, "Uh-huh," as my rectum adjusts rather quickly to its favorite, um, its only intruder. The pain backs off considerably, and then that indescribable sense of being perfectly filled up back there enters my mind. A few seconds later, the pain morphed into a squirmy itchy feeling, and then a few initial pleasure sensations sparkled off my fabulous prostate gland, and I began to relax.

Sighing, I murmur, "It feels good now, boyfriend. No worries."

He humps against my butt cheeks, mumbling, "You're amazing, and so is your ass, but I'll wait a minute before doing anything else."

I'm smiling to myself because I love hearing praise from Billy. He softly rubs his hands on my body, murmuring, seemingly to himself, "Weirdly, we have the same skin tone too."

Huh?

Then to me, "You know, your rectum is far superior to mine, but other than that, our bodies are amazingly similar. Don't you think?"

Now, my ass is beginning to feel fantastic. I murmur, "Hmm, this feels good, Billy. Um, our bodies are what? The same? Do you mean except for your hair being brown and straight, mine being blond and incredibly curly, and me being a little bit taller than you, plus I weigh fifteen pounds more, and my foot size is nine, and yours is eight, and I have..."

He goes, "Stop! Okay, we're not 'effing twins, but there are similarities. That's all I'm saying."

Snickering, I go, "Oh, uh-huh. I see what you mean, but, um, you can proceed with our mutual messing around if you want. It feels awesome now."

He squeezes the back of my neck, chuckling and saying, "Wiseass. As I promised, I've got some extra special hard messing around for you tonight."

That sounded harsh, but he was very considerate, slowly withdrawing his boned-up penis and carefully pushing it back inside me. He continues with slow, five-inch penetrations, and eventually, it begins going in and out smoothly. It all feels mind-blowingly wonderful to me.

Billy murmurs, "I don't like when it hurts you. Does it feel good now, Gary?"

I go, "It's way better than good," and he picks up the speed as I try not to embarrass myself by moaning too loudly. Four, five, six minutes of delicious pleasure, Billy breathing noisily, then a few moans of, "Oh, oh," from him, and his thrusting gets faster and faster until he's moaning, "Ah, ah, ah," with each thrust, then he's doing quicker but shorter thrusting, every one of them stimulating my prostate into a state of delirious pleasure.

I try humping back into each fast thrust as "Slap, slap, slap" sounds join the party, and "Ah, ah, Omigod," and, "Um, um, um, Billy! Um, ah, ahh, AHHH!" my climax sending tremors all over me, my hot creamy cum streaking from my hard boner shoots up my stomach and chest.

The world blacks out for a second, then I shiver and shake at the pleasure still streaming all over my body, a sexual pleasure that's indescribable and almost painful but not quite. Nothing can remotely match an orgasmic climax. Nature has seen to that. Ya know, with over a billion years of mutations until accidentally, the rectum is a pleasure zone.

Shuddering again, I'm so absorbed in my climax I didn't notice Billy's rocket shooting off, but now I hear him gasping, and it feels oddly gooey inside my rectum, some of the goo now drooling out to run down my left buttocks.

I'm so relaxed, feeling fantastic; I smile and sigh. It's so fabulous I'm contentedly lying on the SUV's floor in my cooling spunk and not caring about that. Yeah, I will care about it when I come completely down from the mountaintop of this sexual high, but I don't care right this second.

Billy goes, "Whew, that was intense, huh, Gary?"

I murmur, "Mmm, I feel wonderful. How about you?"

He goes, "Me too. Here we go," and he slowly pulls his now flaccid penis from my ass. We both go, "Umm!" Then it's out with Billy reaching for wipes from the pouch on the back of the passenger seat.

Holding five wipe packets, he sits against the back of the front seat, mumbling, "Do you think doing this messing around will ever get old?"

Pushing up off the floor, I go, "Ew, I've got cum all over me, and yours is running out of my ass."

He snickers, "Well, it's not all about you. I've got some random cum on my dick, too, not to mention possibly some of your doo-doo."

I'm still in my push-up position, mumbling, "My top guy needs to wipe his girl/guy's ass, please."

Muttering, "You need a helluva lot of taking care of," he goes to his knees and does an excellent job of wiping his drooling cum off my ass. Putting a clean wipe on the floor next to him, he mutters, "Sit on this."

Sitting on the wipe, "That must have been a big load, top guy."

Handing me two packets of Handiwipes, "Yep, it was huge. I've never come close to having orgasms as big as the ones I have when messing around with you. It's like electricity shooting through me. Nothing has ever felt nearly as good."

I'm wiping cum off my stomach as Billy gets his arm around the back of my neck, pulling my head to his and kissing the side of my face. "I guess I need to thank you for my awesome climaxes, you cute motherfucker."

Holding the wipe away from us, I ask, "Do you love me?"

After an exasperated exhale, he goes, "Dammit, Gary, don't keep asking me that."

I'm like, "Okay, I won't, but do you love me."

Taking his arm away, he says, "Yes, I love you more than anyone on the planet."

I go, "That's all I wanted to hear."

Shaking his head while smiling, he takes the wipes from me, mumbling, "You're doing a shitty job cleaning yourself."

He cleans my stomach and chest as I smile while staring at his cute profile, then put my hand on his shoulder, asking, "Don't you want to know if I love you?"

He snorts a barking laugh, then says, "No, I don't need to hear you repeat it for the thousandth time."

I murmur, "I love you so much it hurts my teeth. You're the perfect lover if there ever was one."

Smirking at me, he hands me all the used wipes, "Throw these out the door."

I do that, we pull our pants up, and his arm goes around me. He kisses my forehead, mumbling, "Be good." I snuggle against him, and he wraps his other arm around me. Hugging me, he murmurs, "Who wouldn't love you?"

Happiness is joy, contentment, and a sense of well-being that life is good, meaningful, and worthwhile. Or, to put it simply, Billy equals my happiness.

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com.

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