Invited

Chapter 44

( Pheromones )

Now I'm feeling wicked guilty about letting Malcolm fuck me. I was fooling myself thinking I wouldn't tell Ronny. I can't lie to him. Not telling him about it infers I didn't do anything that needs telling, and that's the lie.

With that troubling thought on my mind, I showered, shaved, deodorized, and dressed for tonight's date with him. Then, with time to kill, I go online and soon am fascinated by what I learned about Ronny and me. Puzzled by the instant connection Ronny and I experienced, I Googled ''instant human attraction', and learned that it is an actual phenomenon!

Science claims a chemically compatible match of body scents called pheromones, along with other factors like physical attraction, similarities of personalities, and emotional chemistry, can result in two people forming an almost immediate bond that's raw, soul-deep, and might be the best thing that will ever happen to either of them.

Yeah, it's rather rare, but when it happens, it's like a whirlwind inside your mind... all you want to do is shower this person with endless affection.

That's overstating Ronny's and my situation a little bit, but it is a relief finding this information online because I was beginning to think there was something wrong with us. Well, ha-ha, there still could be something wrong with us, but at least we're not alone in the instant bonding thingamajig. It's comforting to know others have experienced this kind of instant mutual attraction.

I text him: 'Ronny, I can't wait to see you tonight. Have you ever heard of pheromones? See you around seven o'clock (depending on traffic). Your boyfriend, GW.'

Jesus! Texting him gave me a boner. I'm forgetting about everything else and concentrating on Ronny Lynch because our connection is magnetic and magical! Amazingly, it's even more magical than Billy's, and my butch haircuts ever were. Oh, damn, my haircut! I send another text: 'Please don't get pissed off, Ronny, but I got the short butch haircut you didn't want me to get.'

Ronny's text comes right back: 'GW, you don't need to explain anything to me. Can't wait to see you. Love, RL'

Aw, he said 'love.' Heh-heh, using initials is kind of cool. And it was lovely of him to be okay with my haircut even though he doesn't like it. Hmm, I used to get all gooey-feeling thinking about Billy Underwood, but it's much worse, much gooier thinking about Ronny... it's crazy!

Yeah, but I don't know where we'll go in Philly for our date. I'll drive back to the Sears parking lot if necessary because I'm having sex with him two or three times with him tonight, one way or another. Not having a place to have our date highlights our need for an apartment.

Mom just called me for dinner. Then, after a quick dinner, I brush my teeth and smile at my butch haircut because instead of spending ten minutes trying to comb my too-curly hair, I smirk at the comb and leave it on the sink.

Driving into the city, I feel my dick getting hard. This craziness between Ronny and me is exciting but slightly out of control, which makes it a little scary, but that pheromone, body odor thing is weirdly interesting. I mean, I noticed a personal scent from Billy and Pat too, but neither fragrance drove me insane the way Ronny's does.

Ronny and I have similar personalities too. Billy noticed that and mentioned it to me, and what I find physically attractive in Ronny is his body. You know, it's almost identical to Billy's. Like Billy, Ronny's just an average-looking young guy, so I wonder if the similarities to Billy are adding to the pheromones as reasons for my incredible and immediate attraction to Ronny Lynch.

Obviously, my mind is hopping all over the place, so it's a good thing the traffic isn't too horrible this time of night, or I'd probably rear-end somebody. Anyway, I make it to Ronny's house in thirty-five minutes, but there's no place to park. I double-parked and call him. He answers after one ring, "GW, are you lost?" I'm like, "No! I'm outside your house, but there's no place to park."

I see him coming out his front door, cell phone to his mouth, "I'm coming to you, Wallingford." I can't stop smiling as I watch him jog over and gets in the passenger seat. We hold hands as I say into my phone, "You shaved your skimpy beard. You have the nicest skin and a sweet smile. And, um, we don't need to talk into our phones now."

He laughs, closes the door, and says into his phone, "Yeah, I know. Do you like me with the beard, or do you like this clean-shaven look?"

"I like you both ways, but I guess you look better like this."

He shows me an exaggerated sweet smile, and we both chuckle; then he points and says, "Drive to the end of the row houses and go left into the alley. You can park behind my house, and we'll go inside through the back door."

I'm like, "Go inside?" He nods, "Yeah, we can hang out in my room."

Idling, double parked, we're staring into one another's eyes, and then Ronny leans over, and we kiss. A loud horn sounds behind us, and our heads jerk apart; then I drive to the end of the row homes and turn onto the alley, parking behind his house. Quickly undoing our seatbelts, we embrace and make out for three minutes, our hands all over one another, our dicks now hard boners in our pants.

Chuckling, Ronny slides his tongue across my lips, then takes a deep breath and says, "We have chemical compatibility, Wallingford; I read it online."

I move my fingers back through his soft, clean, unevenly chopped hair, ruffling it from his bangs to the cowlick at the crown of his head, "Yeah, I know, pheromones! I read that same thing, Ronny. We both looked it up online! Holy shit, we're so much alike."

His eyes glance at my butch haircut quickly, and I mumble, "I'm sorry, Ronny, but it was a bitch trying to comb my hair with all those curls and..."

He interrupts, "No, that's okay! You don't need to explain anything to me. Let's go inside." Hmm, maybe I was wrong, and I don't need to mention my infidelity.

We get out both sides of the car; I hustle around to his side; he holds my hand and leads me inside the back door, saying, "My parents left ten minutes ago to do food shopping. We have about an hour to ourselves."

The back door leads into the basement, so we go upstairs to the kitchen, then up more stairs to the second floor and his smallish bedroom.

Ronny gets both arms around my neck, my arms going around his waist, and we make out. He's hungrily aggressive, making me take tiny steps backward until I fall back onto his twin-size bed. Our feet on the floor, Ronny's chest on mine, his face a couple of inches above mine, he seriously says, "Is it okay if I'm the top again tonight? I know I said that I wanted you to do me tonight, but I have this intense urge to fuck you again. It was so awesome doing it last night, and scary too. Scary because I've never felt I needed to do anything this desperately before in my life."

"Sure, of course, you can be the top again! Last night was the hottest, sexiest, and I can't wait for you to fuck me again." He nods, asking, "Really?"

I go, "Uh-huh, really," and we start making out, now in a feverish sweat, spit spreading around our mouths, my hands pulling his hair and his hands under my buttocks, squeezing and squeezing until his hands work their way inside the waistband of my jeans and underpants, a finger poking my asshole. We're both humping our hips, our wooden penises poking painfully against our flies.

Ronny grunts, "Turn over," and when I do, he yanks my pants and underpants down past my hips, my boner bouncing off the side of the mattress. He gasps, unzipping his fly, and pulls out his almost four-inch hard-as-a-rock boner, spits for lubricant but misses my asshole, and shoves his stiff pecker in past my sphincter muscle. I screech out because it was an almost totally dry cock head pushing inside me. His precum that drooled out while we were making out was left in his underpants.

Even with the burning sensation, I'm pushing my ass against his boner, holding my breath. He humps against my bare ass, the zipper of his pants scratching my left butt cheek. Ronny grunts pulling his cock back and then thrusting it right back in, and again and again and again... burn, burn, burn, but I'm incredibly turned on by this rough, dominant fuck.

Little Ronny Lynch is doing it to me like a big bad-ass dominant top as I'm making pathetic little squeaky sounds, about to blow my load, acting as if I'm a well-fucked, submissive, super-aroused bottom boy in love, which is exactly the case.

Quickly I feel my climax percolating, and the fifth time Ronny slams his cock up my ass, I squeal, "Ronnieeee," and climax with a gush of cum shooting out onto his bed. It shoots out so hot and fast that the burn of my piss slit matches the burn in my asshole, with waves of intense pleasure swarming up from my rectum and cock to spread up my torso and up the back of my head. Floundering on my stomach, pushing my ass up, I'm hoping for more.

Not expecting me to flounce so hard, and because it's not very long, Ronny's boner jerked out of my ass, and he cried, "Noo!" and shot his stream of cum against my buttocks before slamming his cock back up my ass to pump it in and out, pump, pump, pump, slippery now with his cum. Oh, that feels so good!

He slams it in a dozen times, each time less forcefully than the one before it, as he runs out of energy. Then, he moves further onto my back, his dick pulling out of my ass again, this time dragging wet cum with it. He moves up until his face is next to the side of my face, and he murmurs in my ear, "I love you so much, Wallingford; I feel dizzy with it. I dreamed about you, and now you're here. I love you with an insane passion!"

Maybe he does. I know I loved Billy like that, although Billy never liked hearing me say it. I don't mind Ronny saying it, though. I like hearing him say it!"

"Ronny, please let me get turned over." He sides off my back, and I turn over, slide up on the bed a little more, and hold out my arms. Ronny grins and flops face to face on top of me, and we kiss. "Oh, Christ, Ronny, I love you too. The thing I read on Google said that attractions like ours make us want to shower each other with endless affection. Did you read that? I do want to do that with you. The fact we barely know one another doesn't seem to have much to do with anything."

Getting off me, he says, "Let's get naked," then, "Um, I gotta tell you something. It's this: Please don't worry about me not using a condom. I've used a condom in the past, so you won't catch anything from me."

That thought never entered my mind, but now I'm worried about Malcolm not using a condom. Well, I'm not doing it with him ever again anyway.

I mumble, "We won't do it with anyone else, Ronny. Isn't that right?"

He nods, so that's that. Ronny is slightly more the in-charge type than me, but not by much. Neither of us wants the responsibility, not when you get right down to it. We like being the cooperative bottom boy, obliging the other's wishes, which means we'll both be top and bottom, taking turns, I guess. Whatever Ronny decides is fine by me.

Right now, we rustle around, taking our clothes off, everything off except our socks. He says, "I think I'm affected by the pheromones more than you, GW. I mean, I'm already ready to fuck you again."

That sounds good to me, so, lying on my back, I pull my knees up, getting an arm around each leg. Ronny nods his approval, strokes his smallish dick a few times, and then slides his boner back up my ass. His partial cum injection from a few minutes ago, most going on my butt cheeks, but some going in my ass, makes this a very different fuck than the first part of the last one, and I moan, "Ahhh, yeah, Ronny, you're my man, and this feels so good. Mmmm."

He has a hand on the bed on either side of me, my feet dangling on either side of him. Letting go of my legs, I hug both arms around his neck, pulling his face close to mine as he moves only his slim hips fucking me steadily, a slapping sound with every thrust, and it goes on for a long delicious time. Nobody could be sweeter than Ronny, but in my head, I again make him out to be this marvelous dominant top, which makes me hug him tighter and shiver submissively.

His undersized boner is the oddest part of this. The generous estimation of an almost four-inch long, medium-girth boner is somehow electrifying my rectum, causing endless amounts of pleasure that equals or surpasses Malcolm's obscenely fat five-inch boner or Pat's eight-inch one. Of course, as I've acknowledged before, it's Ronny fucking me, and that makes up for the difference in size.

Ronny's face bumps against mine as he grunts, his hips steadily humping back and forth, sending sizzling waves of sexual pleasure, my hard boner sticking up, poking Ronny's belly, hard as a stone. It's ten or fifteen minutes of a floating sensation of bliss, Ronny puffing out little moist exhales that spray damply on my face with each hump of his hips, me making desperate whining, "Ooh," moans with each one of his thrusts as my next climax builds and builds.

Ronny grunts, "I'm gonna cum, Wallingford, ooh, mmm..." But I shoot off first with lightning flashing behind my eyes. Cum shoots straight up from my boner, hitting Ronny's breastbone as his cock pumps a spurt of cum up my ass, then he pulls back too abruptly, and his cock comes out. He humps his cock a few times next to my nuts, missing my anus, then collapses on me, moaning and hugging me, spreading our small cum shots between us.

We're squishy together, taking deep breaths, our hearts pounding, and both of us hot and sweating. Ronny says, "Oh man, it was fabulous releasing the pent-up feelings of hot love I have for you, Wallingford. Those two orgasms felt better than any orgasms I've ever had."

"Me too, um, but could you slide off me, Ronny?" He nods and flops over on his back next to me. We turn to look at one another, and I can't stop smiling.

"Ronny, I love your face, and your lips taste delicious, and the orgasms you fucked out of me were so perfect I'm still shivering with pleasure. And I, ah, that is, I feel horrible for not being true to you."

"Huh? Not true? Whaddaya mean?"

"My boss at work, Malcolm, fucked me twice, and he'll probably want to keep doing it too."

Ronny looks concerned, "Can't you report him? Sexual harassment at the workplace, ya know?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't that. I didn't tell him not to do it. I'm complicit. It's like I'm oversexed or something."

He rubs my short bristly hair, "Don't look so sad, Wallingford. None of us are perfect. It's okay. I mean, it's your boss! Try not to do it again, okay? But we're just beginning our romance which will go on forever, so if you're having a rocky start trying to be faithful initially, I forgive you. Try harder, though."

"Oh, jeez, I will, Ronny, but that's so sweet of you to overlook my inappropriate behavior. Um, ah, have you also been tempted by someone else?"

Ronny sits up, his back against the bed's headboard, mumbling, "Nah, but I guess we're in a transition period for you, um, your sexual activities, you know? I didn't have any activities that I needed to stop."

I sit up next to him, "Yeah, I guess. Um, just so you know, when Malcolm fucks me, I have a hot orgasm, but it's like nothing compared to the orgasms I get when you fuck me."

He nods, "Oh, that's good. There's no way you or I could fake our reaction to one another, not only when we're having sex but also during times like now. It's obvious to me how much you love me. Your eyes, um, it's as if you want to eat me up."

"Haha, that's so true, Ronny. Christ, I'm still shocked at how much I need to be with you. You're so, um, well, I don't have words." Then I lean over to lick his cheek, murmuring, "Omigod, you taste and smell so good. I can't even describe it to you..."

"That's how I am about you, Wallingford, exactly like you said."

Our arms go around one another, and we're off into another licking, sucking, tongue involved, making out until Ronny goes, "Wait, um, I lost a contact lens. Sorry, GW, but help me look for it."

"Contact lens? You wear contacts?" He chuckles, "Uh-huh, and one popped off my eyeball because you got me roaring hot and excited."

Looking at the back of my hand, I mutter, "Is that it? That round slimy thing?" He laughs, "Holy shit, yeah," and he touches it with the pad of his finger, then puts it on his eyeball as I go, "How the hell can you do that? Anything that gets near my eye, I push away. Touching an eyeball... ew."

"You get used to it."

I'm looking closely at his eyes, "Oh, yeah, I see them moving on your eyeballs. Jesus! Hey, do you have glasses?"

He nods and opens the bedside table's drawer, pulling out a pair of eyeglasses. I get excited, "Oh, dude, put them on! Billy looks cute when wearing his glasses, and I'll bet you do too."

He puts his contact lenses in a case, puts the glasses on, and looks at me, smiling, "Do I look cute to you?" I'm like, "Goddamn right, you do! Holy shit! Oh, please wear your glasses. I'm getting all horned up again."

He's smiling, "Goddamn, no one ever got excited about me wearing glasses before. Do you have an eyeglasses fetish?"

Shrugging, "I don't know, but I really like how you look with glasses on."

He pulls out little packets of eyeglasses cleaners, removes his glasses, and starts cleaning them. I go, "Let me have some of those little cleaning rags. I'm psyched to suck your dick, but it's been up my ass, so I'll clean it first. I mean, if that's okay with you."

"Sure, I'd like you to suck my cock," and he puts his clean glasses on, mumbling, "The liquid on these little cleaner sheets is mostly rubbing alcohol."

I'm holding up his flaccid three-inch dick with the thumb and forefinger of my left hand, wiping up and down his little penis with two of the small eyeglass cleaner sheets. I nod, "Ah-ha, that thing about the alcohol sounded like a trivia factoid. I forgot that trivia is your hobby."

"Nah, it's not a hobby. Just something I'm pretty good at because, like Billy, I remember obscure things once hearing them. For instance, the first author to use a typewriter was Mark Twain."

Holding his dick by the head, I'm wiping it clean with another fresh eyeglass cleaner. Doing this is giving me another boner. I say, "Tell me some more trivia stuff."

He shrugs, "Okay. My dick feels good, by the way. Here's another trivia question about authors. Which author had their work translated into other languages the most?"

Opening two more wipes, I shrug, "I won't know the answer to any of your trivia questions." He says, "It was Agatha Christie. Do you know the pig's name in Charlotte's Web?" Without a clue, I mutter, "Is it Buttermilk?"

He chuckles, "Nope, it's Wilber. How about this: what was the first ever message sent by Morse code?" Grinning, I say, "Was it 'who laid that fart?"

He laughs, "No, that was close, but that wasn't it. It was 'What hath God wrought?'

Done cleaning it, I'm stroking his newly cleaned penis, muttering, "I told you I wouldn't know the answers to anything."

He goes, "When was the first Barbie Doll sold?"

When I let go of his dick, it sticks straight up. When hard, his three-inch penis turns into a decent, almost four-inch boner with a nice pointy head that's slightly bigger than the shaft.

I look at Ronny, "The first Barbi Doll? Um, was it sold in 1617?"

He laughs again, then says, "No, the first Barbie Doll was sold in 1959. You're not too good at trivia, but you did a nice job cleaning my penis."

"Uh-huh, and it's a pretty fucking hard penis too. I like how it looks, and I'm going to suck some semen out of your nuts through this pinkish-white-colored hard sex organ, but first, I just thought of something else. I did something for a guy once that I'd love to do with you."

Crawling down to the foot of the mattress, I pick up his size nine foot that has a sweat sock on it; "I'm going to lick your foot."

Ronny grins, "You're shitting me! Wait, you told me about this once before."

I shake my head, "I did? Well, I'm seriously doing it," and I smell his sock-covered foot, "This sock smells like I'd imagine it would smell after being on your foot in a sneaker all day. It definitely has a distinct foot smell, but not an especially offensive one. I like the smell, although I don't believe this is part of the pheromone thing."

Adjusting his glasses, Ronny smiled, "This is so fucking cool, Wallingford. Nobody has ever touched my feet, never mind smelled them, and never-never mind licked them."

"Well, I want to do it, and I'm going to. Maybe I can prove how infatuated I am with everything about you." As I pull his sock off, he mumbles, "I already believed you were infatuated with everything about me."

Holding his foot up by his ankle, I smell it, and, not shockingly, it has an identical, albeit more robust, smell as his sock had. Putting my nose against the bottom of his foot, I inhale deeply, then mutter, "Well, damn, even your foot smells good. It's a sexy smell, slightly stinky, but I like it!" Inhaling again, then rubbing my nose on his heel, I lick up the bottom of his foot and suck on his toes as he laughs, "That is so sick but simultaneously so cool of you. Hey, that tickled!"

I thought of doing this because I was feeling so guilty about cheating on him, but now I'm getting an even harder boner because I'm realizing that doing this has a solid submissive vibe to it, a vibe that I like. It's got me in a bit of a frenzy, so I'm licking all over his foot, watching his toes curl as he squirms on the bed, grunting, "Ah, ah, ah."

Oh man, he's getting as seriously aroused as me. I lick across his toes one last time, then across the top of his foot and up the front of his leg, then drag my tongue over his knee, noticing how his leg smells. It has a sexy, pleasant scent. Dragging my tongue up the inside of his thigh to his crotch, my ear bumps against his four-inch dick that's still sticking straight up, hard as stone. A moan of arousal comes from my throat as I grab my hard cock, stroke it, and then move over so I can take his full boner into my mouth, licking and sucking on it, the top half of the head in my throat.

Ronny gives a little yelp, then says, "Ooh, my dick is getting sensitive after fucking you twice and then all the rubbing of those alcohol wipes you cleaned it with."

I ignored what he said as I covered my teeth and went down on his boner once, twice, three times. Ronny lifts his ass off the bed, grabs my head, makes a gasping sound, and blows a short blast of cum in my mouth. I swallow it and suck wildly on his softening cock, highly aroused as I pull on my hard penis.

Two seconds later, with a grunting, "Ahh!" I shoot a small squirt of cum on the mattress, then drop my head onto Ronny's thigh next to his cock and balls. He rubs my head, murmuring, "Oh, man, Wallingford, that was seriously hot. Multiple shots of cum in a half hour is a record for me,"

He pulls on my shoulders, "C'mon up here, next to me, please. I love you more than anybody ever loved anybody."

As I drag myself up next to him, I mutter, "Ronny, I feel wrung out. Whew, I'm exhausted, but I love you too."

Ronny's glasses are steamed up and foggy, so he puts them on the bedside table, and we put our arms around one another, sigh and lie in each other's arms like this, our chests rising and falling in sync, and our matching heartbeats going boom, boom, boom.

After maybe ten silent minutes, grinning now, we start climbing on one another, moving our legs against each other's body parts, our hands caressing one another, our faces sliding together until I murmur, "Can I fuck you now?"

Ronny murmurs, "It would be a miracle if you could get another boner this soon. Maybe you should wait a while to be..." then he stops, covers my mouth with his hand, and whispers, "Shh, Wallingford. My parents are back from grocery shopping. I hear them talking right under us in the kitchen, and we're bare ass naked in my bed."

I murmur, "Yeah, I know we are," and we giggle. Ronny covers my mouth with his hand, again hissing, but as a joke, this time, "Shh!".

Letting go of one another, we slide out of bed and get dressed, being as quiet about it as possible, but at the same time, we're snickering like little kids caught with their fingers in the cookie jar. Ronny is shaking his head, holding a finger to his lips, "Shhh! We'll say we were playing my Xbox."

Getting my sneakers on, I nod, "Okay, sure." Ronny puts his glasses on, and I follow him downstairs and into the kitchen. His mom is putting away groceries while his dad is pouring white wine into two wine glasses. Ronny and I stand next to one another, and Ronny says, "Hi. Um, we were playing a game on my computer, and, um, now we're going to get something to eat at Burger King, so..."

His mom is blocked from view behind the refrigerator door, but his dad is staring at us, the wine bottle frozen in midair. He goes, "You're wearing your glasses?" Then his expression changes to one he might use when seeing a ghost or an extraterrestrial.

Ronny goes, "My glasses?" then he glances at me, and we both glance down and see why his dad is looking like that; Ronny and I are holding hands. We let go of one another's hands like they caught fire, and Ronny goes, "What? We weren't doing anything!"

My face is red and hot as I look at the floor, and Mr. Lynch asks Ronny, "What's up with the hand-holding, kiddo?"

Ronny says, "Okay, okay, I'll tell you. Um, I'm twenty years old and don't need to hide... I mean, this is Gary Wallingford, who you don't know yet, but, um, well, yep, we're gay boyfriends. I'm gay, Mom and Dad; sorry to disappoint you."

Mrs. Lynch, with a puzzled expression, says, "What's going on, Ronny? You're wearing glasses..." Then to her husband, "Frankie, what is it?"

Mr. Lynch says, "It's okay. Let's sit down at the kitchen table and talk about it. Ronny feels he's homosex..., um, you know, gay."

Ronny lets out a big sigh, then pats my shoulder and says, "Sorry, Wallingford." He takes my hand again, pulling me to the kitchen table with him. We sit down as Mrs. Lynch says, "You're gay, Ronny? You can't know that yet! You're too young. What do you know about your, um, about being gay?"

Mr. Lynch says, "He's old enough to know, Gail." Then to Ronny, he asks, "This isn't a recent development, is it, son?"

"Nah, I've been gay, in my mind, since I was twelve, Dad. Actively gay from age seventeen when a kid in French class and I had oral sex."

His mom goes, "Ronny! Don't talk like that, please! Um, you look nice in your glasses..."

Ronny seems so mature, "Thanks, Mom. Look, I'm sorry to let you down, Mom and Dad, but I am what I am. I wish I had told you guys a couple of years ago, but I wasn't in love then, and now I am," and he nods at me, "in love with Gary here, so I'm glad we're talking about this, um, finally."

As his mom and dad exchange quizzical looks and try to think what to say, Ronny nudges me, murmuring, "I'm really sorry for embarrassing you like this, Wallingford."

I shrug, "Oh, huh, what? Um, I mean, no, that's alright," then I nod at Mr. and Mrs. Lynch, "Nice to meet you."

Mr. Lynch grins, asking, "Are you in love too, Gary?"

Nodding, I go, "Oh, uh-huh," then look at Ronny, "You're right. I do love you even though we don't know one another all that well. Ah, but never mind that."

Ronny tells them about our plans to rent an apartment near the college for the fall semester. And how we'll probably be getting the apartment a month or so before the semester begins.

I'm fascinated by how well this is going. Now they're discussing the student loan financial aspects of an apartment. As it sinks in what Ronny's telling them, his mom looks shell-shocked, but his dad hardly seems surprised by any of this.

That's what I expect will happen with my parents. They won't be surprised. I mean, I never had a date with a girl in my life. Hell, I still make a face like EW! Ew, every time I think of that girl's neck and chin against mine, passing me that fucking orange at Sara Donald's twelfth birthday party.

Mr. Lynch is a good-looking man in his middle forties and super nice to help Ronny feel comfortable by confirming that, yes, of course, we all need to be who we are and blab, blab, blab, and then more encouraging words. I'm sneaking looks at both his parents, and Ronny doesn't look anything like either one. Maybe he was adopted as an infant.

After fifteen minutes that seemed to me to be much, much longer, Ronny, who held my hand the whole time, stood up, "Mom, Dad, you've been as understanding and wonderful about this awkward situation as I knew you'd be. I love you both, and thank you so much for helping me through this, um, coming out thing, ah..." He shrugs then and looks exhausted.

They both stand saying how they'll always love him, and blah, blah, blah. Somehow, we make our way to the cellar door, and then, mercifully, we're down the stairs and out to my car.

Stepping outside, the cooler air is so refreshing on my sweaty face. Ronny lets go of my hand, and I'm like, "Why did you hold my hand when we entered the kitchen? That was the most uncomfortable situation..."

He hugs me, "Shh, Wallingford. Please, stop it. I'm sorry about that, but I feel a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel like a man, Wallingford. Omigod, I told my parents I'm a homo!!!"

Shaking my head, I hug him back, then say, "I'm sorry for bitching at you. Yeah, I'm happy for you, and your parents were awesome!" He grins, "Well, they are your in-laws-to-be. Not so bad, huh?"

I mutter, "In-laws? Whaddaya mean?" and I walk around the car to get in the driver's side door. Ronny gets in the passenger side, and as we put our seat belts on, I ask, "Where can we go now?"

"I don't know. I'm so geeked up, so high from telling my parents, I don't know what I'm doing. Holy shit! Okay, um, let's drive to your house and tell your parents."

"What? Oh, no! No way am I doing that! Not tonight, anyway. I need to work up the courage to do that. I'll start the working-up process, but it could go on for quite some time. I'm happy for you, though."

Ronny says, "Omigod, Wallingford, I did it! It's such a rush having that out in the open!"

He takes off his glasses, chuckles, and says, "Glasses get fogged up and smeared, and they're a pain in the ass, but you think I look cute wearing them, right?"

Nodding, "Yeah, you and Billy both look cuter than shit wearing glasses! I wish I needed glasses."

"You're already too cute as it is!" Rubbing his glasses on his t-shirt, he puts them on and says, "It was so special having you with me when I came out to my parents."

He rubs my shoulder, "I love you so much."

I go, "Thank you. I was very proud of you. You were so fucking mature and confident. I'm going to study you and try to emulate you, and you were right about us being in love even though we barely know one another."

"Thanks! We're getting to know each other quickly, though. And don't try flattering me with that mature and confident designation bullshit. You're just hoping I'll be the take-charge boyfriend, so I'll need to think up everything! Either we're both take-charge boyfriends, or neither of us is."

Grinning, I go, "That sounded like a take-charge decision by you, so I'll abide by whatever you decide about everything."

He laughs and mutters, "Bullshit to that too, but nothing can ruin my good mood tonight. You'll see, it's a thrill to be out to your parents; a scary thrill."

"I believe you, Ronny, but I do not want to do that tonight. And do you notice that I'm driving aimlessly? That's because I don't know this area, so tell me where to go."

He says, "It's only eight-fifteen, so how about we go to the Sears parking lot again? There isn't any place I know around here that's as safe as that spot. I mean, minus that asshole who scared us when he drove in with high beams and horn blaring only to turn around a drive back out."

"Okay, that's where we'll go. See, you took charge and made the decision."

He snickers and punches my arm lightly, "I love you, Wallingford. Okay, I'll be your daddy if I must, but it is your turn to be the top when we fuck at Sears."

Smiling, I mutter, "That right there was another take-charge decision by you, so, yes, I'll do as you say, Daddy."

He lies his head back on the seat and mumbles, "Balls to that daddy shit. Let's see; who else should I come out to? I'll let Mom tell my grandparents. Um, in fact, I'm not telling anyone else unless they ask."

His coming out to his parents is mostly on his mind, and I don't blame him. I know he's right about a gigantic load being lifted off your mind when you do that, but I can't do it right now. Maybe never.

Ronny touches my shoulder and says, "You know, when you've told your parents, we can be inseparable, and I want to sleep with you too. That gives me an idea. I've got one more final exam, so let's you and me spend next weekend in a cheap motel at the shore. It's not warm enough for swimming, but we can walk on the beach and spend most of the weekend in bed."

That sounds wonderful, but not something we can do, so I'm like, "Holy shit, that is a mature plan if I've ever heard one. Boyfriend/lovers on a romantic weekend at Cape May."

He goes, "Don't make fun; it would be romantic."

Looking at him, "I know! I wasn't saying that sarcastically, but could we actually do that? Seriously, Ronny, are we, I don't know, old enough to do that, or..."

As I park near the dumpster, Ronny puts his glasses on the dashboard, frowning and mumbling, "Are we old enough? Is that a serious question? You can't be serious, except you are, aren't you?"

I shrug, "I don't know. Will someone rent two kids a motel room?"

"Jesus, sometimes you do act like a baby. I mean, not a baby, but you act immature. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but why would you think we're not old enough? I'm twenty, and you're legally an adult according to the law as an eighteen-year-old. After you come out to your parents, there isn't any reason we can't have a romantic weekend."

Taking off our seatbelts, I mumble, "See, you're much more mature about shit like this."

He sort of shakes his head, "Let's get in the back seat," and I nod, "Yes, Ronny," and as we get out both sides of the car, I ask, "Are you disappointed or angry with me?"

Slamming the back doors, we slide to the middle of the backseat; Ronny says, "No, don't be silly. Why would I be disappointed or angry?

He puts both arms around me, murmuring, "Okay, so it's interesting to me that Underwood wasn't lying. You do need a bit of taking care of once in a while."

Hmm, he feels and smells so good; I lean into him, saying, "Ya know, I could take that as an insult, except I'm used to hearing it by now. Here's the thing, though: I do NOT need to be taken care of it! That's stupid, even though it's meant in a loving way. So, no, except for this past year, I haven't been as interactive with my peers as most everyone else has been, but I'll figure everything out, okay?"

Wrapping his arms around my neck now, our foreheads touching, he murmurs, "Yeah, okay, we'll pretend you don't need help. So, should we plan on you coming out to your parents tomorrow night?"

Huh? I'm trying to convince Ronny I'm a big boy now, so what can I say to that except, "Yeah, sure, okay, tomorrow night I'll do it to please you. I'm just wondering if you realize how our lives have sped up to the speed of light. Things are flying by, and I'm having a hard time keeping up, but I'm determined to do the right things."

"I know that! I think you're fabulous, Wallingford; you must know that by now. Um, I'm not being critical of you. We're working things out and finding out things about one another. It's all good!"

Oh, that does sound good! I grin and nod, then we kiss and rub our noses together. Kissing again, he murmurs, "We're keeping up together, you and me, step by step, until the end of time. We stepped on this speeded-up land mine, and our world is spinning very fast, so we need to cling to one another to keep the centrifugal force from throwing us off."

I love him so much. I feel so safe with Ronny Lynch. Our arms around one another, we do slow, luscious kisses, quiet moans coming from our throats, our penises again hard soldiers in our pants. Ronny's lips slide off mine, then he murmurs, "My dick is wicked hard, and the head is stuck at my zipper."

Reaching down, I help him unsnap his jeans; then he pulls down his zipper, and his hard boner pops out through the fly of his boxer shorts. I lean over and suck on it with Ronny grunting, "No, please, Wallingford, I'll cum..."

Taking my mouth off his almost four-inch boner, I get a condom from my pocket; we pull our pants down. Ronny, seemingly reluctant, turns on the seat, his head against the back of the seat and his bare ass up.

Squeezing in behind him, my back against the back of the front passenger seat, I was kind of expecting more eagerness from Ronny. He said he preferred being the bottom boy, but he seemed hesitant to get in position for that.

Maybe I'm misinterpreting his lack of enthusiasm for anxious anticipation. Still leaning against the back of the passenger seat, I roll the condom onto my hard cock; the tip of the condom hitting Ronny's asshole. He yelps out as if he didn't expect it... the lips of his anus tightening further.

Using both hands, I'm rubbing and squeezing his butt cheeks, which are surprisingly plump for a slim guy like Ronny. Really nice, sexy ass on this kid. I spread his butt cheeks and push the head of my boner against his tight anus; Ronny goes, "Um, do it slow, okay?"

That works for me since I've almost no experience. Thank God I had the chance to be the top fucking Barns the other night. It's not rocket science, of course, but I feel pressure not to completely screw this up somehow. I don't want to seem as if I've never done this before. Barns seemed okay with my effort, but I'm still not sure I'm doing everything correctly.

While that's true, how else is there to do it? Again, I touch the condom's nipple at the center of his ridiculously tight-looking anus, and Ronny jerks again; then I hump the head inside his ass, and, "Mmm. Damn, that feels good."

Ronny apparently disagreed and let out a screech, so I'm like, "Jeez, are you okay, Ronny?"

He grunts out, "Yeah, uh-huh, no problem. It hurt a little, is all."

He's another one without a miracle rectum, apparently. Trying to do it as gently as possible, almost tentatively, I push my boner very slowly, in an inch or so, and hear a gasping sound from Ronny, so I stop and rub his back, murmuring, "I'll wait for a minute, okay?"

He nods but doesn't say anything, and I'm wondering again if I heard him correctly about preferring being a bottom boy. He doesn't appear to like it very much. My dick is only average size, so God forbid Malcolm ever gets ahold of Ronny.

Pushing my dick in another inch, I see his body get stiff as a board, then he groans, "Oooww," so I stop and slowly pull my quickly softening dick out. He looks back, "Sorry, but it hurt."

Getting my arm over his side, I pull him around so that we can both sit on the seat, Ronny half on my lap. He adjusts his position next to me, muttering, "That's never happened before, Wallingford. It must be, um, my rectum has forgotten how to take a dick inside it."

I pull off the condom and flick it out the window, then put both arms around him, "Ronny, if it's not too personal a question, how many times have you been the bottom boy?"

"Do you mean in my whole life or just recently?"

"In your whole life."

He goes, "Counting tonight, two times."

Pushing my face against his, confused, I murmured, "Somehow, I got the impression you're always the bottom boy. You know, because you like it so much. Um, I believe I got that impression from you."

Our faces slide together, then he mutters, "Well, I thought you'd want to be the top guy, so I made that lie up about me always being the bottom guy."

Wow, now, who's the baby? Keeping my voice sounding pleasant, I say, "Look, Ronny, we've got this sort of uncontrollable attraction for one another, which is sort of complicated, so we need to be honest with each other about things, or it'll get more complicated. Don't you agree?"

Ronny nods, "Yeah, I agree, and I'm wicked embarrassed about lying to you. It's just that I wanted to please you and have you be our leader. I've been unfair to you, Wallingford. First, with you standing right there, I came out to my parents, and now I'm caught in a lie about the sex I've had. I've hardly had any, actually."

I go, "Hey, it's okay; I had zero sex until a year ago. As you told me a few minutes ago, we're in our learning phase, learning about each other. So, um, your previous very limited bottom boy experience... how did that work out for you?"

"It was a couple of years ago when I had a crush on Neil Blackman. He was my macho idol who paid no attention to my cries of pain when he fucked me that night. He wasn't nice like you, so he continued fucking me until he climaxed. He didn't care that he was hurting me."

"And that was it until just now, right?"

"Well, I still had a crush on him even after that painful experience, so I said, "Yes, absolutely," a week later when he asked if he could do it again. It hurt just as much, so we never finished because I pulled away from him."

I murmur, "What a prick that guy was. Wouldn't Neil let you fuck him?"

"He said he would, but he never did. Then I lost my crush on him when he told me to get lost after he met Joey Rider."

"I think I'd like to kick Neil's ass."

We straighten up and sit with our backs against the seat. Ronny says, "You might want to, but he's much bigger than us, and he has a much bigger dick than ours, too."

Maybe this is nitpicking, but why does Ronny continually say things indicating we have the same size dicks? And we're not the same body size, either. He's Billy's size, and I'm bigger, so... Oh, fuck it!

Nodding as if I agree with him, I say, "So, please tell me honestly, Ronny, do you want to try being the bottom boy again, or should we move on?"

He makes a face as if he's sorry, muttering, "I'm fucking this up. Um, I want to take turns, but I don't think I can, um..."

I interrupt, "No-no, don't worry about taking turns. Ah, maybe you don't like anal sex at all. Do you?"

"Yeah, I really like it when I'm the top guy. I loved doing it then, especially with you, and it was what I thought sex should be like, but that's not fair to you, and I feel terrible about that."

Putting my arm across his skinny shoulders, I say, "Is this some kind of clever trick you're playing to force me into being the boyfriend who's in the mature adult role of our relationship? I mean, I find myself in this position of consoling you, commiserating with you that it's okay that you lied about always being a bottom."

Smiling, "No, I'm not trying to manipulate anything. Um, I didn't think of it, but if I had... No, I'm kidding, but you are doing an effective job of taking charge, which is making me feel okay. I'm not feeling great because I'm letting you down, but you've made me feel okay. You have natural leadership qualities."

I laugh, "Bullshit! And what was your plan? Did you plan for the next forty years that we'll be together, pretending you liked taking it up your rear end even though it was wicked painful? That was your plan?"

"No. I honestly thought I'd be fine being the bottom with your much smaller dick. Smaller than Neil's dick. His was like seven inches long and fat! A monster's dick. You and I have human size dicks, and I thought that would make all the difference."

Why does this bother me so much? I say, "We're sitting here with our dicks out. Um, not that it matters, and I know your glasses are on the dashboard, but for the record, you're not saying our dicks are, um, the same size, right? I mean, look at one and then the other."

Looking concerned, he mumbles, "Whaddaya mean?"

I'm being a dipshit. Laughing, shaking my head, I hug his shoulders, "Nothing. I was being an asshole. Never mind that. Okay, listen, here's the deal. You and I have bonded together so tightly that we'll never be separated, and I couldn't be happier about that. I propose that you're our designated top guy, and I'm the designated bottom, and that will simply be how it is all the time. Both of us being in our proper roles... it just needed sorting out. Oral sex can be a take-turn kind of thing. What do you say to all that?"

He leans over and kisses my cheek, murmuring, "Thank you, Wallingford. Now I love you even more than I did before, which was already a tremendous amount."

It's obvious that we're addicted to one another, and the slightest show of affection sets off a hot, sexy make-out, which is what we get into, lying out on the seats, then almost crashing to the floor. It ends with Ronny on my back, both our penises like stone. Ronny shoves his stone cock up my ass, then humps it fast and hard until I make the most embarrassing girlie squeal yet, blowing out a hard stream of cum on the seat and Ronny gasping and shooting his latest load inside me.

After heavy breathing, hearts pounding, and Ronny sliding off me, we stand as best we can, and I use one of my socks to wipe the seat as Ronny uses my other one, wiping cum off us. Neither of us does a very good job, but it's better than doing nothing.

Then, as I'm driving to Ronny's house, he says, "We're learning about one another, Wallingford, and you know what? I haven't found a single thing about you that I don't love."

Grinning, I mumble, "Me too, Ronny! But, ya know, haha, whenever I said something like you just said to Billy Underwood, he'd say something like... I don't doubt that for a second. He's very confident and slightly conceited. Two things I am not, which is why I said, me too, Ronny." "

Ronny says, "Underwood is a sweet guy, actually. He was honest about not wanting to do any sex with me, saying he'd lost interest in it for now. I got the impression he was trying to get you and Summers to fall for one another."

"I think you're right, but I'm glad it's you and me, Ronny. What you said, I can truthfully say too... there isn't anything I've learned about you so far that I don't love."

"Good, thanks, Wallingford. That's all I care about!"

Then, as we're pulling up to his house, he says, "Tomorrow's Friday. I'll ride my motorbike to your house around seven-thirty and be with you when you come out to your parents."

Oh, fuck! Nodding, my heart beating fast, I mutter, "Uh-huh, yeah, okay, I'll do it for you, Ronny."

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com

Please consider making a tax-deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty to help cover the expenses of maintaining and growing this fantastic free story site. Easy instructions for donating are at Nifty.org. Any size donation is hugely appreciated. Thank you.