Invited

Chapter 46

( Over The Top )

Saturday morning, I'm lying in bed thinking about last night's date with Ronny and then me coming 'out' as gay to Mom and Dad. The first thing was truly amazing; the second, I still can hardly believe happened.

Well, I said those two words, I'm gay, and nothing will change that. Next on my list is this morning's awkward first-time-as-gay breakfast with my parents. My being gay is a major thing right now, but as time passes, it won't be. Or I hope that's how it works.

And adding to the drama of coming 'out' last night was Ronny's brilliant idea of introducing himself as my boyfriend. Shaking my head, I grin because it's beyond fantastic to be in true romantic love the way Ronny and I are. I was positive I was in romantic love with Billy, but I see now that it wasn't true love... it was first-time puppy love. Obviously, I had no way of knowing the difference until experiencing the real thing with Ronny.

And I talked myself into believing Billy was 'in love' with me when he never was. He's bisexual and unsure which sex he likes the most. Maybe he'll never decide definitively. I believed him when he said he liked me better than anybody he's ever known, and I want to still believe that.

Billy was and is the best friend I ever had, and he might be a genius matchmaker, too. I mean, he hit a home run, matching up Ronny and me as a perfect fit. Omigod, are we ever! Our insane love happened almost instantly, and yes, we're aware that that makes no sense by ordinary standards. Nevertheless, I've never felt surer of anything than I am about Ronny and me and the power of love.

Interrupting my musings, my cell phone pinged on my desk, so I jumped out of bed, hoping it was a text from Ronny... and it was.

He texted: 'Good morning, GW! I was thinking about you and got a hard-on! Anyway, our idol, Billy Underwood, texted me a minute ago. He wants you and me at his house at noon, so I'll see you there! Love, RL'

Yeah, both Ronny and I look up to Billy as someone older and much cooler than we are. We admire him, and, as I said, I also love him as the best friend I've ever had.

I text Ronny right back: 'I can't wait to see you, RL. And what a coincidence; I was thinking of you and got a hard-on too. And isn't it interesting that our idol, Billy, texted you, not me? He assumes you'll be our leader, and he's correct about that. Love, GW'

Grinning, staring at my phone, expecting a return text about the 'leader' comment, I hear, "PING," and read, 'You know I'm not a leader, Wallingford! Goddammit, though, I guess I'll pretend to be one if it'll please you, you cute motherfucker. Love, RL'

Oh man, ha-ha! I'm scrolling through the pictures on my phone, looking for the ones I took last night of Ronny. There they are, and my hard-on gets harder! I love me some Ronny Lynch!

Squeezing my pecker, I send Ronny a thumbs-up icon and then, in my underwear, walk to the bathroom, again thinking what a fantastic feeling it is being in true love with Ronny. Considering how positive I was about being in romantic love with Billy, it's startling that there wasn't the slightest hesitation about moving my unconditional romantic true love to Ronny. It was like a bolt of lightning flashing in my brain, making it evident who I was romantically in love with. It left me shaking my head in amazement but simultaneously knowing I was right.

It's almost as if Ronny and I had nothing to do with it. Billy set us up; then, our two souls knew we were meant for one another and acted like magnets pulling us together. Maybe it was like Hinduism's karma or our previous lives, insisting we were each other's destiny, and we couldn't keep from bonding and falling deeply in love almost instantly... or something like that.

Whatever that life force was, we both felt it. We solemnly nodded at one another, acknowledging we'll be together in love forever. So, yeah, it was like love at first sight. Yep, it was that simple and, simultaneously, that complicated.

Anyway, whether it makes any sense or not is missing the point! Love often makes no sense; you roll with it and embrace it. That's the only thing that makes any sense. Don't fuck around with the power of love... go with it.

In the bathroom, after using the toilet, I wash my face and hands, brush my teeth, then go back to my bedroom and get dressed. With a resigned sigh, I'm ready to greet Mom and Dad in the kitchen as their gay son. To lessen the awkwardness we'll all feel, I'll begin by thanking them again for being supportive. There's no need to mention being gay because what else would I be talking about?

Going into the kitchen, I sit at the table across from Mom and Dad. Looking at me, they both have tentative half-smiles as if they're unsure of what to expect from me after last night. I have a forced smile, too, quietly saying, "Good morning. Um, I don't think I adequately thanked you last night for helping me get through what I wanted to tell you; it means the world to me that I have your support."

Mom says, "Of course, dear. We're behind you; you know we support you."

Nodding, I murmur, "Thank you. I'm relieved I can now stop pretending to be something and someone I'm not... stop feeling like a fraud. Of course, I wish I was like everybody else because I'm not special enough to handle being different, although I guess I'll somehow need to be special enough."

Mom reaches her hand over to cover mine, "Gary, you're plenty special enough. Your, ah, friend Ronny is very nice too. You're both fine, and your Dad and I are proud of you." Looking at him, "Aren't we, Richard?"

Dad nods, "Yes, we are, son. It couldn't have been easy to tell Mom and me your news. Ah, I don't think I've ever mentioned the name Charles Burke to you, but he was a vice president where I work. Last year his daughter, ah, well, she took her own life. She was in love with some girl, and... Um, my point is, you're dealing with this properly; you and your friend are dealing with reality, with real life, and doing it bravely and admirably. You can count on our support, Gary, although you're already handling it very well yourself."

Gee, that's the longest speech Dad's ever made to me. Nodding, I mumble, "Thanks, um, and it's Ronny who gives me strength. He told his parents he was, you know, and he did it without going through all the histrionics I put you through last night, for which I apologize. But, um, anyway, it was Ronny who inspired me to be honest about my, um, be honest with you."

Mom squeezes my hand, "There weren't any histrionics, dear." Looking at Dad, she asks, "Ah, did you notice any histrionics, Richard?" Dad's like, "Huh?"

Oh, man! Well, that should cover it, but how do I move on from here? Mom saves the situation from further awkwardness by changing the subject, asking, "What can I make for your breakfast, Gary? Scrambled eggs, or..."

They probably want to move on too. Standing, I shake my head, "Oh, no, thank you, Mom. I'm not hungry, but can I borrow the car? We have a team playing in the annual township's spring softball tournament at the high school this afternoon, and..."

She doesn't let me finish. Standing too, she says, "Of course! I'll get the key fob for you. It's so nice that you're playing baseball, um..."

Ha, she sounds thrilled her fag son still gets to play baseball with the neighborhood guys. Dad says, "This is off-topic, Gary. Just a reminder that it's coming up on the last of May, and the lawn needs the year's first cutting. Ah, sometime this week, if you could."

Nodding, "Sure, Dad," and I take the key from Mom. I'm glad Dad didn't feel it necessary to remind me not to get my skirt caught in the lawnmower blades.

No, I'm being unfair. Mom and Dad couldn't have been nicer about everything. I'm making fun of myself to avoid thinking about future 'coming-out' situations. Some starting later today...

Walking outside, I say aloud to nobody, "Whew! That wasn't any fun, but it went better than I expected."

Uh-huh, that's true, but, shit, I've got another situation here. It's only ten o'clock in the morning, and I'm not due at Billy's until noon, so why the fuck did I walk out of the house? I wanted to make a graceful exit from my morning-after coming 'out' party, but now I don't have anything to do out here for two hours.

I should have gone upstairs, not outside! At the very least, I should have gotten my baseball glove from the basement and my baseball cap with the ritzy hotel logo from Mom's and Dad's trip to Florida last fall. I got all discombobulated in the kitchen and walked out of the house without thinking. And there's no way I can go back inside now!

Chuckling, I start the car and say aloud, "What a dipshit you are, Gary!"

Driving away, I have to laugh at myself. Yeah, I have no place to go and two hours to get there. Ah, but so what? The thing that matters is I got through my first morning as a gay son with my parents. I deserve kudos for that. I was mature about it and handled it okay.

And, hey, I know what I'll do; I'll drive through the city and pick up my boyfriend so he won't need to ride his motorbike to Billy's. Furthermore, I'll make Ronny proud of me by introducing myself to his parents. Well, no, I won't do that because I was there two nights ago when Ronny came 'out' to his mom and dad. Yeah, but maybe they won't remember me, so I'll introduce myself as Ronny's boyfriend as he did last night to my parents.

Sure, that's obviously the mature thing to do. It's also something I'd have avoided doing at all costs just a few days ago. Could it be that Ronny is somehow influencing me to do mature things? Maybe it's more a matter of me wanting to impress him, knowing he isn't going to baby me the way Billy and Pat do.

Yeah, but looking back on it, I liked being the young, clueless guy being babied and taken care of. It was so easy just letting Billy and Pat lead me, and I loved them both when I was with them on a date. I loved Billy with passion and secretly loved Pat too. I kept that a secret, but Pat knew I loved him. They were big boys, and I was their immature girl/guy, and I liked being that!

Whatever, that's all in the past now that I'm helplessly in romantic love with Ronny Lynch, and, as I said, Ronny's not buying any of my need for babying, so I've got to start growing up and acting my age. Still, I just turned eighteen, which is still wicked young, so I'm wondering what acting my age means, exactly.

Hmm, I'll work on being one mature motherfucker of an eighteen-year-old boyfriend for Ronny.

Oh man, I'm not thinking straight, although thinking about Ronny has given me another hard-on! Oops, driving past 69th Street, the traffic is becoming noticeably heavier, so I need to concentrate on my driving and stop thinking only about Ronny. Adjusting my boner, I concentrate on driving, and, amazingly, I do not get lost driving through Philadelphia!

Parking across the street from Ronny's row house, I wonder if I should text first or brazenly ring their doorbell the way Ronny did at my house last night. He had a reason for being there, though... he was picking me up for our date. Well, without a better idea, I'll follow Ronny's example and ring the doorbell.

Locking the car, I cross the street and go up their walk to the front door; then, without hesitating, I ring the doorbell as anybody would do. It's not something I would have done last week, but this isn't last week.

I'm nervous about doing this because I wasn't invited to show up here Saturday morning. What should I say is the reason I'm here? The door opens, and Ronny's Dad, with a coffee mug in his hand, looks at me, turns his head, and yells, "Ron, it's your, ah, friend..." Then to me, "Come in, son."

Closing the door behind me, he points at me and says, "It's Jerry, right?" I mumble, "No, sorry, I'm Gary. Gary Wallingford."

Why'd I say sorry?

He mutters, "Of course you're Gary," then he yells, "Ron! Gary's here!" Then to me, he nods at the stairs, "Go on up. He's in his bedroom, the second door on the right. The door with the KEEP OUT sign on it."

As I start going upstairs, I hear Mrs. Lynch in the kitchen asking, "Who was at the door?" Mr. Lynch says, "Our gay son's boyfriend, Gary-something. He's a very nice-looking kid, and very..." but I don't hear the rest as I tap on the door with the juvenile KEEP OUT sign, then mumble, "Ronny, are you in here? It's me..."

The door swings open, and there's Ronny wearing only a sweet smile, um, and white jockey underpants. His underpants have a pale-yellow piss stain where his small penis head must be lying. Ronny has a hairless, pinkish/white, taut torso with slightly skinny arms and legs. Even though I've seen Ronny's body several times in the past few days, it's still startling to see how similar it is to Billy's, so I gasp, quickly turning it into a fake cough.

Then, as usual, we're hugging with the sides of our faces together, and Ronny says, "Wallingford, you get cuter every time I see you, but what are doing here?"

My arms around him, I shrug as I'm squeezing him tightly; my cock is again a steel tube up tight against my belly, the head uncomfortably poking the waistband of my jeans. My hands rub the back of Ronny's head; then, my fingers in his raggedly cut hair, his cowlick sticking up at the crown. I sigh and hug him tighter because he belongs to me. Ronny's mine.

No, he's not especially cute or good-looking, but even so, I love how he looks. Both of us grinning and snickering at our need to hug one another all the time, I mutter, "To answer your very logical question, um, I don't know why I'm here, but I'm glad I am. Omigod, Ronny, I could eat you up." Getting carried away, I do what Billy used to do to me and lick up the front of Ronny's small nose and then kiss him.

He moves his head back, sputtering a little, so I step away, inhaling deeply. Ronny's hand goes inside his underpants, squeezing his dick. After a deep breath, he gasps, "You're so fucking sexy, Wallingford. Um, can I ask you what I asked last night?"

"Sure, what's that?"

"I dreamed about it. Um, would you suck me off, please?"

Nodding, I grin, "You mean now, with your parents downstairs? Jeez, I don't know. Ha, I thought you were going to tell me, 'Shh!'"

He goes, "Oh yeah, you're right," and puts his finger to his lips, saying, "Shh."

We're both quietly giggling; then I murmur, "Ah... if you think it's safe to do, sure, I'd like to suck you off."

He goes, "It's safe," and I gently push on Ronny's chest, him stepping back one step, two steps, then three, bumping against and sitting on the side of his unmade bed. Dropping to my knees, my eyes on his, I surprise him by picking up his left foot and licking across his toes. I wanted to do something that leaves no doubt in Ronny's mind that there isn't anything I won't do to demonstrate how much I love and adore him. My feelings for him make it close to worshipping him.

Amazed or shocked that I'm doing this to his foot, Ronny's mouth is slightly open as we continue staring into one another's eyes. My tongue slowly licks the bottom of his foot, his toes curling tightly. Maintaining eye contact, I'm holding his foot in both hands, slowly opening my mouth wide enough to get all his toes inside. Seemingly in a trance, Ronny's opening his mouth along with me. Then he closes his mouth as I close mine on his toes. Licking each toe separately, his leg is limp, held in place by my hands on his ankle.

It's all very surreal and dreamy, plus I'm more aroused from doing this than Ronny appears to be. It's such a turn-on for me to do something this submissive, showing Ronny my love and devotion in the process. We continue staring into each other's eyes as I take his toes out of my mouth, lick across the top of his foot, and then slowly and deliberately lick up the front of his leg to his knee, over his knee, then up the top of his thigh until my tongue is right next to the pee stain on his jockey underpants.

My eyes remain on Ronny's as he slowly pulls the front of his jockey shorts down, freeing his small hard-as-steel boner that bobs up and down one time. What's left of his foreskin after his early life circumcision is stretched so tightly down from the head that it looks like the skin will rip any second.

Opening my mouth barely enough, I take his almost four-inch boner into my mouth, the pointy head going into my throat when my bottom lip hits against the top of his scrotum. Ronny squirms on the bed; we both quietly moan, "Mmmm," and I rub against my hard-as-stone boner in my pants.

Precum wets my underpants as I pull my mouth up Ronny's boner until just the head is between my lips. Very tightly, I go down on his cock until my nose is poking his belly. After working my throat muscles on the head of his dick, I again bob up and down on his shortish hard penis. The fifth time going down, Ronny covers his mouth with both hands, muffling the screech he makes as he humps his hips and blows his load of semen down my throat.

His climax had three pulsing shots of cum; the first was mostly a spray followed immediately by a long, gagging stream, then a short follow-up shot as Ronny, both his hands almost pulling my head off my shoulders, him bouncing on the mattress.

My climax rushes to a conclusion, firing off, soaking my underpants. My squeal would have sounded high-pitched enough to break glass in their kitchen, except Ronny's dick was still in my mouth and throat, blocking a lot of the squeal.

My shoulders shudder as Ronny's cock slips out of my mouth. Squeezing my crotch, I'm feeling dizzy watching Ronny stroke his small penis as he lays back on the bed, his feet still on the floor, a leg on either side of me. I lean over and lick his normal-size balls as my dick goes soft inside the wetness of my jockey shorts.

Then, resting my forehead against Ronny's right thigh, he runs the back of his fingers through my short bristly hair, and we both breathe deeply and stay like this for maybe two minutes. Then, lifting my head, I murmur, "You're so beautiful, Ronny. I love you."

He's been stroking his penis, and now it's hard again as he sits up, pats my head, mumbling, "What? Me, beautiful? I'll let you try on my glasses, sweetheart. Your eyes are failing you."

Sweetheart?

Standing, still groping my crotch, I confess, "I came in my pants again, Ronny. I can't stop it when sucking you off, and now cum is soaking through my jeans. And don't call me sweetheart, and you are beautiful."

"Thanks, but why can't I call you sweetheart?"

"Oh, um, it sounds weird and cringe-worthy. Especially, don't call me that when we're around other people. Alone, I guess you can call me anything you want, darling. Heh-heh."

We both laugh and stand, hugging again, his hard-again dick leaving a wet cum spot on my jeans next to the one where my cum drenched through. Yes, a little messy this morning.

There probably have never been two people who hugged one another as much as Ronny and me, but not many. To us, it seems so natural, so pleasurable doing that. With a sigh, Ronny steps back, and as his dick goes soft, "I'll get you a pair of my clean underpants, sweetheart."

Taking off my sneakers, then my jeans, I murmur, "Thanks," as I sneak a look at his dick that appears extra tiny when flaccid. It's about three inches, at the most, and skinny. I'm fascinated that his little guy creates such great pleasure in me.

Getting clean jockey shorts from a bureau drawer, Ronny holds them out and sounds excited, saying, "That was so fantastic, Wallingford. My climax almost hurt. I mean, it came out so fast and hard that it was almost painful. Hee-hee and I heard you gag from the big load of cum I shot down your throat."

I jokingly mutter, "We're going to run out of underpants if I keep shooting cum in mine." Then, feeling so much love for him, I murmur, "Ronny, I can't get enough of sucking your almost normal size penis. Tell me to do it anytime you want, and I'll be your boy, sucking you off as I'm shooting off in my pants. Um, are those jockey shorts for me?"

He nods, "Oh, yeah," and hands the underpants to me. Then asking, "Whaddaya mean when you said almost normal size? We both have normal-size penises, right?" he puts his dick back in his pee-stained underpants.

It makes no sense for me to continue to dispute his claim, so I nod, "Uh-huh, sure." When I try stepping away, he grins and grabs onto me, so we hug and kiss again. Shaking my head, smiling, I jokingly mutter, "We need professional help, Ronny. We're way the fuck over the top with all our hugs and kisses," and he goes, "Uh-huh, we've entered the dorky zone for sure." We laugh, then exaggerate doing another sloppy kiss.

Stepping away, he reaches into the waistband of his underpants to adjust his penis, then pulls on a pair of skinny khaki pants and says, "So, what are you doing here, sweetheart? You still haven't told me."

Reaching over, I swipe his bangs to the side of his forehead, and he pushes my hand away, muttering, "Don't, Wallingford." I make a pouting face at him, then tell him about this morning with my parents and how I bumble-headedly walked out of the house at ten o'clock with no place to go.

As I'm stepping into the clean underpants he lent me, then my skinny jeans, he smiles and says, "Well, I'm super glad you came here. Always consider seeing me first when you walk out of the house with no place to go and tons of time to get there."

Ha! We laugh at that, then I mutter, "Christ, I can't believe we did that oral sex, Ronny. I mean, with your parents in the kitchen. Seriously, it's like a miracle how incredibly comfortable I am with you. It's as if you've been my best, dearest friend and lover all my life instead of only a few days."

He whispers, "Exactly how I feel about you! So, what should we do now?"

"I don't know. What do you wanna do? You're our leader."

Making an annoyed look, he says, "Stop saying that... please! I've never been anybody's leader, never wanted to be anybody's leader, and I'm not our leader."

I mutter, "Why are you angry, Ronny? I'm sorry," and I put my hands on his waist. "Please, don't be mad at me."

He shrugs, "Nah, I'm not... it's, ah, it's nothing," and we hug. He says, "Don't keep pretending I'm your leader, though. Okay?"

That sounded leader-like to me. You know, Ronny is making a rule that I'm not allowed to call him our leader. I'll obey his rule. I nod and murmur, "I promise never to say you're our leader again. So, what should we do now?"

He says, "That's what I just asked you."

He takes his hands off me, so I let my arms fall away too. Ronny picks up a comb and combs his hair, saying, "I was going to get a haircut. Get this horrible haircut Charlie gave me fixed, somewhat. That's what I was going to do, then meet you at Billy's. You showed up here to give me a ride, so it's up to you what we do now."

He runs the comb through his hair as I walk up behind him, my arms go around his waist, and I hug him, snuggling my face against the side of his neck, then kiss him there, murmuring, "You're not mad at me, are you? I can't stop touching you. I'm under your spell."

He turns around, and we hug, "No, I already told you I'm not mad, and it's me who is under your magic spell. All I want is to be with you."

We hug and sway side to side. Ronny murmurs, "Isn't it scary being infatuated and deeply in love? I mean, that's how I am with you. You know, I worry that, without thinking, we'll start hugging and kissing at the softball game? I wonder about that, seriously. I lose control of myself when I'm with you."

I make a goofy face, then he makes a face, and we snicker like little kids. Shaking our heads, we let go of one another, and I say, "I don't know what we'll do at the softball game. Maybe I'll blow you on second base," and we both laugh aloud. Done laughing, I say, "For now, I'll drive you to your barber or my uncle's barbershop."

He says, "I guess I'd prefer my barber if that's okay with you, sweetheart. You know what? I like calling you sweetheart."

We again both make faces, this time pretending we're gagging, then I go, "Gag me with a cringe-worthy spoon, sweetheart! We have to get a grip. We've gone so far over the top... it's sick! We're going to make ourselves throw up. Haha."

Ronny puts his glasses on, and as we leave the bedroom, he holds my hand and mutters, "Let's see if we can make it out of the house without getting into an over-the-top make-out."

Smiling at him, I mumble, "Okay, no making out, but my problem is, you look so cute wearing glasses. I want to hug and kiss the shit out of you."

Going downstairs, he says, "You said the same thing about Underwood, that he looked cute wearing glasses. I think you love me because I'm Underwood's doppelganger."

Shaking my head, "Nope, you don't look anything like him. I am amazed, though, at how you and Billy have the same bodies, almost identical, but a doppelganger has to do with facial similarities. Or I could be wrong about that. It's what Billy told me, as well as this: Doppelganger is a German word meaning double walker."

We stop at the bottom of the stairs, and Ronny says, "That sounded like the kind of obscure shit Underwood tells us. He's almost a genius, though. Um, listen, Wallingford, I need to know that you love me, not him."

"Absolutely, Ronny! I love you, and I mean I love you the way you mean. I'm IN LOVE with you. As a matter of fact, I want to be naked in bed with you right now; you wearing your glasses, of course." We both start the awkward giggling we've been doing, holding onto one another.

Then, "Shh! Dammit, be quiet, Wallingford!" Then he calls to the kitchen, "We're going out now. I'll be home for dinner." He takes my arm, "C'mon, let's go before you say something even more embarrassing that they might hear."

Following him outside, I point and mutter, "My car is across the street. The blue one." We wait for three cars to pass, then jog across the street as I'm saying, "I know you're not our leader. I'm never suggesting that you are, but you must admit you're the bossiest one between us."

I'm unlocking the car as Ronny shrugs and says, "It's not that I feel comfortable being bossy or want to be bossy, Wallingford, but sometimes you, um, I don't know. It's just that sometimes I feel I need to push you along a little, get you moving, or correct some misconceptions you have. Plus, you've been known to talk too loudly and say private things we don't want anyone overhearing."

"I do NOT talk too loud! No one has ever said that about me before!"

"You're doing it right now, for Christ's sake! But, no, I'm being too critical. I don't like doing that, and I will try to stop it, but if you'd..."

We get in the car, and I interrupt, "No, don't stop doing anything. Don't change anything, Ronny. I swear to God, I couldn't love everything about you more than I do already. I don't want you to change one tiny thing about yourself."

As I drive away, he mutters, "Except you wanted me wearing glasses instead of contacts."

I snicker, "Yeah, except for that one tiny little thing. Where are we going, bossy? Which way to your barber?"

Chuckling, he mutters, "I'm the least bossy guy you'll ever meet. Turn left at the light."

I glance at him, grinning, then smiling, "That sounded slightly bossy, Ronny."

He makes a face, "No, it didn't, but you know what? I need a new name for you. Wallingford is too long."

Turning left, I mumble, "Call me Gary; that's what everyone I've ever known called me. More importantly, though, you and I must never be as creepily over the top telling one another the lovey-dovey shit we say if there's any chance other people might overhear us. If we're not careful, people will mock the shit out of us for the creepy things we say to one another, and they'd have every right to."

He goes, "Omigod, that's perfect advice, and I couldn't help but notice that it was a very leadership-type thing to remind me of." He squeezes my arm, murmuring, "You'll be a great leader for us! Another thing that's occurred to me is you're so cute you could have any gay guy you wanted as your boyfriend, but you chose me. So, I'm wondering, what the fuck's wrong with you, anyway? Hahaha..."

Haha, we laugh, then I say, "I've never laughed as much with anyone as I do with you. The problem with that is most of the time, we're laughing at ourselves for being nerdy romantic boyfriends who constantly say cringe-worthy stuff to one another."

"That's so weird but so true too! And to think how weird it'll be doing this humiliating shit as old gay men, still crazy in love and saying the same insanely nerdy stuff."

I mutter, "That's a very troubling scenario," and he points, saying, "There, turn into that parking lot, Wallingford. The barber I've been going to for years has a shop in the middle of the strip mall."

We get out and start walking towards his barbershop, "What kind of haircut should I tell her I want, Wallingford?"

I'm like, "Her? Your barber is a woman?"

Nodding, "Yeah, what should I tell her?"

"I don't know. I wanted to ask you what haircut you'd want me to get next time. Billy and I had these twin haircuts because he thought that was magically cool. Do you want us to have twin haircuts?"

"Fuck, no! But I need to know what I should get for a haircut. I'm afraid I'll get a haircut that you, as our leader, won't like."

I grab his arm and pull him to a stop, saying, "Stop it. I'm not the leader! Okay, though, this will be my turn to decide something for us. Here it is: tell her, tell the barber the same thing, whatever it was, you've been telling her all these years."

We both laugh our nuts off as if that's hysterically funny. Gasping, catching his breath, Ronny goes, "Yeah, okay. That's what I'll do. You're good at making decisions. Um, the problem is, I don't usually say anything to her. She asks if I want the same haircut, and I shrug or mutter, I guess."

"So, it's probably whatever she thinks is a regular haircut." He snickers and says, "I guess," and we start walking again.

At the barbershop, I say, "You go ahead. I don't want to sit in there if I don't have to," I point down the mall, adding, "I'll kill some time in that CVS store. Maybe they'll have rubbers to sell that will fit, um, that are small enough, um... I mean, never mind. Good luck with the woman barber, and we'll hope to hell she knows how to do a good haircut, um, of some kind."

We chuckle again, shaking our heads at how nerdy we are and how we're not taking any of this seriously. At the barbershop's door, Ronny says, "Okay, here goes nothing. Wish me luck." Then, "Um, ya know what, Wallingford? Ah, I think it would be better if you came in with me."

Making a face, I mumble, "Jeez, you want me to come with you?"

He nods, "Yeah, I want you to come in with me, and I'll get to look at you while she cuts my hair."

Walking inside, I'm like, "Good God, we need some serious psychiatric help, Ronny! We're already way too dependent on one another."

He says, "No! We don't need no stinking psychiatric help; we're perfect together."

Huh, that's what I used to tell Billy. Not the psychiatric part; the part about being perfect together. Inside I see two lady barbers, no men. I've never seen that before; very progressive, I suppose. Women are taking jobs away from men. What's next, women caddies on the golf course, women running bulldozers, garbage women replacing garbagemen?

Both lady barbers are very chatty as they cut two old men's hair, so we sit down, me whispering to Ronny, "Why in the hell did you start going to a lady barber?"

He puts his head close to mine and goes, "Shh!" Then whispers, "They'll hear you!"

I make another goofy face at him, and we both start giggling; then he puts his finger to his lips and again goes, "Shh!"

We're like two nine-year-olds now, we can't stop giggling, so I get up, "I'll wait outside." He nods, "Good idea."

Outside, I take the opportunity to smoke a cigarette, wondering if Ronny smokes. See, we hardly know anything about each other. I don't think he smokes cigarettes, but we shared a joint the other night.

Lighting my cigarette, I say aloud, "Shh!" and start snickering, smoke drifting out of my mouth and nose. I was thinking about how Ronny and I get into silly giggling fits where we can't stop; the harder we try to stop, the harder we giggle. It's embarrassing, but he's so much fun! I grab my junk for a squeeze, then take a drag, casually glancing around to see if anyone saw me grab myself.

I smoke two cigarettes walking up and down the ten-store strip mall, which is busy this Saturday morning. Finally, Ronny comes out of the barbershop, looking over where we parked the car. Then he sees me walking on this side of the strip mall and touches his hair, calling to me, "How do I look, Wallingford?"

Walking toward him, I say, "You look beautiful. I already told you that, and your hair looks beautiful too. The lady barber is obviously a genius at giving nondescript regular haircuts that make a person need to stifle a yawn when seeing it."

Hahaha, holding onto one another, we laugh our asses off, laughing so hard we're like two escapees from a mental institution.

Gasping for breath, we walk to the car, where Ronny asks, "No, seriously, what do you think of my haircut?"

His hair is cut short to correct the mistakes Charlie made. It's combed over, just barely long enough to have a part on the side with a tiny pompadour. In other words, it's a haircut for a ten-year-old boy. I'm staring at his hair, pretending I'm almost yawning, and we get into another laughing fit. We finally stop, gasping as we get in the car, and Ronny says, "Christ, I'm exhausted from laughing."

As I drive out of the parking lot, he says, "Go back past my house on our way to your neighborhood. Seriously, though, Goddammit, what the hell do you think about my haircut?"

I'm like, "Oh, yeah, I like it, although it's a tad nondescript..." He snickers, "Okay, that's it... don't fucking say anything more. I'm going to pee my pants. That reminds me that I need to take a piss, for real. Could we stop at my house?"

I park in the closest spot, two houses down from his home. We get out, and, walking to his house; he says, "Hey, good news, my Dad's car is gone, so my parents are food shopping. Do you think we should go to my bedroom and, you know?"

I say, "I'd like to, but, umm, I don't know. Are you sure your parents won't return in the next half hour?"

Shrugging, he mumbles, "Let's take a chance. We'll lock my bedroom door."

Then he looks at me as if he expects me to make the final decision. Meanwhile, I'm goofily captivated by the sunlight sparkling off his glasses. He looks like a young kid and, like Billy, kinda cute wearing glasses. It's the strangest thing.

"Whaddaya think, Wallingford? I really would like to fuck my sweet boyfriend."

Smiling, I say, "Yeah, okay, sure, me too. Holy shit, you look so cute with that little boy's haircut and your round Harry Potter eyeglasses. Damn, it's me who has the coolest, cute boyfriend!"

He's unlocking the front door, mumbling, "You're cute enough for both of us, but thanks for lying and pretending I'm cute too. I'll tell you the truth; I don't know how the hell I managed to live through nineteen years without you?"

Inside, I say, "Well, we're together now," and we go upstairs.

In his bedroom, we undress quickly and then hug our naked bodies together, whimpering with desire. We'll probably get over this stage of out-of-control, over-the-top sexual arousal. Still, for now, it's so fucking hot to be stimulated constantly into hot sexual arousal from just being together. There's no explanation for this, none that makes sense to me, but I hope it doesn't change for years.

Ronny emphatically rejects a leadership position in our love affair even though he's already been firmly established as our 'top' guy during sex. As our top, it's impossible for him not to take some leadership role. So, with that in mind, I continue making out, waiting for him to decide we've become sexually aroused and stimulated to where his fucking me is inevitable, unavoidable, and desperately desirable.

As I've indicated, except for his penis, Ronny's body is much like Billy Underwood's. Smallish-tight-looking bodies that are quite a bit stronger than you'd think, and making out with our hands all over one another becomes almost a wrestling match. We quickly pass the point of no return, meaning, as I said, fucking has become unavoidable. Not that we want to avoid it, but we couldn't even if we did.

Our cocks are hard boners; mine, five-plus inches, and his almost four inches, mine with average heft, his slightly below average. Both boners drooling precum now, and both have firmly taken over control of our brains. Ronny pushes my back against the bureau; his lips slide off mine, and in an urgent gasping grunt, he says, "Turn around."

Letting go of him, I do what I'm told, turning in his arms that are still loosely around me. I put my hands on the bureau and push my ass out. No hesitation, Ronny makes a desperate whining sound and thrusts his pointy-headed boner past my sphincter muscles, then humps the rest of his almost four inches of hard cock roughly up inside me and grinds his hips, moaning, "Mmm, ooh, mm, umm." Then, withdrawing his dick, he pushes it right back in and begins thrusting hard and fast, his groin smacking against my buttocks, making the slapping sounds of gay guys fucking, "Slap, slap, slap," Soon, he's thrusting in almost a frenzy. His normal-looking balls are swinging, hitting the back of my nuts, adding a thrill of pain to each thrust.

Ronny ignored my screech of pain when he hammered his smallish boner up my ass using no lubricant except Nature's precum. He ignored my screech because he knew from experience the pain was only temporary and that I embraced it as part of our sexual lovemaking. It's so hot and sexy being fucked dominantly by my lover Ronny Lynch that pain seems almost like a weird kind of pleasure. Even though he doesn't feel he's being dominant, he is, and it's all good in my rectum and my brain!

Other than Ronny's, I've rarely had an unlubricated boner up my ass, but when I did, it hurt a lot more than when Ronny does it. That's obviously a result of Ronny's small penis size. However, my lover boy fucking me with his undersized penis gives me a bigger thrill than someone with a huge penis. The only joy that comes close to the one Ronny creates comes from who else but Billy. And his twin dick to mine isn't huge, either.

With Ronny's fingers tightly gripping my hips, he continues thrusting his boner in that almost frenzied manner. He appears even more aroused than me this time, which is saying a lot! "Slap, slap, slap, slap," me being jostled by each thrust, my dick a steel rod sticking straight out from my body as I moan, "Ah, ah, ah, ah," with my penis so hard it barely moves.

Then, Ronny's arms come around my belly to hug me tightly, his crotch tight against my buttocks as he humps and moans, "Mmm, aaah... oooh!" and blows his creamy load of warm cum inside me, then humps harder and, perhaps, blows more gooey semen into my bowels.

I'm not sure if he shot more cum inside me because I've lost track of everything by now. Plus, I'm busy making a loud screechy-girlish squeal as my climax explodes like an earthquake, cum splattering off the bureau, spray wetly flying back, hitting my thighs as Ronny thrusts a few more times, then moans and steps back, pulling his short dick out of my ass.

My head hangs between my arms as my whole body shudders, dizzying warmth in my head for a few seconds as the indescribable, very unique pleasure vibrations of climax spread out simultaneously from my rectum and cock, making me shudder again, shudder with the kind of pleasure that us human want to experience again real soon.

Ronny murmurs, "Over the top or not, nothing in my life has ever come close to feeling as good as it feels fucking you. C'mon, Wallingford, hug me, sweetheart."

He's got his small dick in his hand, motioning with his other hand for me to come over to where he's now leaning against his bed. I don't want to upset him by pointing this out, but he's acting as the dominant guy in our love affair by making me come to him for the hug he knows I want. And Omigod, his glasses are all fogged up, but he's looking so cool with his glasses and his silly little boy's regular haircut, the hair sticking up from his too-short cowlick at the crown of his head. Heh-heh, Gawd, he's sexy and fun...

Taking three steps toward him, grinning, I murmur, "You're a fantastic lover, Ronny. I feel as if I'm your boy and you're my man when you're fucking me magnificently."

Then leaning against him, he has no choice except to wrap me in his arms. Both our dicks have gone flaccid with cum dripping from the piss slits, our dicks bumping against one another. He says, "You're determined to make me some kind of dominant hardass, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not. I don't want to change you at all. We'll be the same as we are right now for the next fifty years."

"Oh, okay! Wow, if I get to look at your gorgeous face for the next fifty or sixty years, I'd try being anything you needed, Wallingford. Goddamn, I'm at your mercy; I'll be your leader."

Grinning, I mutter, "Oh, good," and we kiss, moving our head side to side slightly, spreading our saliva, mixing it, and sucking on each other's lips. Our dicks get hard again, and Ronny leans me over, my hands on the bed this time, and he fucks me hard for ten or twelve minutes before I shoot out a blob of something that had me squealing at the same time Ronny was doing a kind of squeal himself.

Leaving his small penis in my ass, Ronny pushed me against the side of the bed and, with his chest against my back, tried to push his cock further up inside me before relaxing and murmuring, "I'm afraid I'm going to hurt one of us, but you get me so turned on I can't stop myself."

We stay like this until Ronny's body stiffens, and he goes, "Shh, Wallingford. I hear my parents in the kitchen." I whisper, "Why do you tell me "Shh" when I'm not talking?"

Lifting his chest off my back and pulling his dick out, he puts a finger to his lips and does an exaggerated "SHH!" and we start giggling like little boys again. Shaking my head because I don't know why we think that's so funny, but we do! My hand on his shoulder, I whisper, "We've got to stop doing this childish giggling. If anybody heard us, it'd be wicked embarrassing, ya know?"

He nods, and I can't resist taking a quick glance at his now limp penis in its barely three-inch condition, then quickly avert my eyes. He goes, "What? I saw that. Why were you looking at my dick? Look at your own dick; they're pretty much the same."

I go, "No, they're not, Yours is way better than mine." He grabs his underpants off the desk chair, grinning and mumbling, "I'll let you suck it after we play softball. You can suck on my sweaty balls too."

That sounded like something Billy Underwood would say!

We're quickly getting dressed, and I nod, "Yeah, you might be kidding, but I'd love to do that. The sweatier your balls are, the better. Yours is my favorite penis in the world too. No bullshit; it's my favorite."

He grins mischievously and puts his finger to his lips, "Shh!"

We cover our mouths, giggling again, bumping into one another, going, "Shh!" Our giggling winds down, and he gets his baseball glove from a closet and then looks through a half dozen baseball caps, settling on one from his Philadelphia high school, and downstairs we go. His parents are putting groceries away in the kitchen as Ronny calls out, "We came back to get my baseball glove."

As he opens the front door, his mom steps into the living room, asking, "Are you taking your motorbike, Ronny?" He shakes his head, "Nope, Wallingford has his mom's car." She smiles, "Hi, Jerry. Drive safely, dear."

Ronny goes, "Mom! His name is Gary, not Jerry!" She smiles, "Sorry," and returns to the kitchen."

In the car, I ask, "Which way, Ronny? Straight ahead?"

He shows me a shortcut back to my neighborhood, and at twenty to twelve, I pull up at the curb in front of my house. "I'll only be a minute, Ronny. I need my glove and hat."

He says, "I'm coming in with you. I want your parents to get used to the idea that you and I will be inseparable."

Nodding, I refrain from mentioning that right there is another example of him being in charge and, basically, our leader... plus he was also bossy again.

Mom says, "Hi, fellows, um, it's Ronny, isn't it?"

Ronny smiles his friendliest smile, "Yes, Mrs. Wallingford, Ronny Lynch."

I say, "I left this morning without my baseball glove," and Mom goes, "Oh, uh-huh," and takes a pile of just-ironed clothes upstairs. I get my baseball cap from the closet, and Ronny follows me down the cellar, where I find my baseball glove and a new softball still in its box.

Punching my glove, I say, "I'll bring the ball, just in case."

Ronny says, "Huh! I wouldn't have thought it possible for you to be any cuter, but you are with that baseball cap on. We grin at one another, hug and kiss, then slowly and deliberately lick our tongues together.

Looking into his eyes, I'm like, "Holy shit! We're way over the top again. Ya know, I never thought I'd ever love anyone as much as I loved Billy, but I love you more and with an intensity that makes my dick get hard as stone."

He closes his eyes, "Ooouu, you gave me chills saying that." He runs his fingers back through my short bristly hair, so I grin, get my fingers in his soft hair, and rub my nose on his.

He says, "One more kiss, and for God's sake, we need to make it last until after the ball games this afternoon."

See, he's our leader!

We do a dreamy, sloppy kiss that lasts half a minute, then, both of us grabbing our junk, go upstairs and out the back door with me mumbling, "No sense in scaring my Mom seeing both of us with boners poking out the front of our pants."

Getting in the car, Ronny asks, "How far to our idol's house from here?"

"It's six blocks, a two-minute drive."

He says, "We need to kill fifteen minutes then. Underwood said to be there at noon."

Nodding, I mutter, "You're right."

At the Mcdonald's drive-through, I buy a large soda. We sit in the car, taking turns drinking the Coke, and sucking on the straw.

Nodding my head, I squint my eyes and mumble, "I just noticed you have perfectly shaped eyebrows. And a beauty mark on your cheek there," and I touch it with the tip of my finger.

He rolls his eyes, and I take my hand away, grab my junk, and mutter, "Damn, I feel like smoking a cigarette now."

"Go ahead, but not in here, please. I don't like the smell of cigarette smoke."

That's what I thought he'd say.

"Nah, I won't smoke at all if you don't want to smoke with me. Um, do you drink?"

Shaking his head, "No, sorry. It's odd how we love one another like wildfire but don't know anything about one another."

"How about pot? Do you smoke much of that?"

"Nah, not if I can help it, sorry. I smoked one with you, though. Hey, what's your middle name?"

"It's my Dad's name, Richard. Gary Richard Wallingford. That's quite a mouthful, isn't it?"

He slurps on the straw, making that grating sound of sucking on ice, and one drop of melted ice water, then he says, "I was thinking of calling you Wally, but I don't like that name."

"What's wrong with calling me Gary? That's my first name."

He shakes his head, "It makes me think of Gary Silvestry. He was the world's worst bully, and he hated on me throughout the seventh grade. In retrospect, I think he was gay for me, but I didn't think in those terms at that age. He'd goose my dick and ass, grabbing both simultaneously. I finally squealed on him to the soccer coach. We were on the junior varsity soccer team, and his parents had to come in for a meeting; my parents too, and it was a terrible time. So, nope, I can't call you Gary because it would make me think of him."

"Do you want to call me Richard? Or why not just continue calling me by my last name?"

"We're lovers, Wallingford! You're the most important person in my life by far. I need to call you something nice, like sweetheart or baby, except I can't do that all the time. It's no secret we're gay boyfriends now, although hardly anybody knows it yet, but they will. In a short time, people will see us and think, gay boys.

I shrug, "Yeah, we came out to our parents, but it won't be long until everybody knows we're gay boyfriends. It's inevitable, and I don't care. I really don't!"

"Well, as I said, it's too dorky calling you sweetheart when we're with the guys. I'd like to, though. But, no, I'm going to call you Richie instead of Richard. I'll be the only person alive calling you that,"

"Haha, but okay, call me Richie, and I'll call you Ronny."

He snickers, "No shit! That's what you've been calling me." Looking at his phone, he goes, "It's almost noon. Let's get to Underwoods. We don't want to be late!"

Haha, he's getting to be more and more the take-charge and bossy-sounding boyfriend. He's becoming more like our leader by the minute. He'll never match Billy in that regard, but he doesn't have to. When Ronny tells me what we're going to do, I get shivers... and a boner. He's so cool. Look at him with his glasses! He gives me a strange look, and I go, "What?"

Shaking his head, "Nothing, um, but you were staring at me with a goofy look in your eyes."

I'm like, "No, I wasn't!"

Starting the car, and five minutes later, I'm parking in front of Billy's house, feeling nervous. This will be the first time that just us three will be together with Ronny and me in romantic love with one another, which was apparently precisely how Billy wanted it.

Getting out of the car, we hear a ball hitting a baseball glove, and Ronny says, "He's in back, I think," so we walk down the driveway and find Billy and his brother, Charlie, in the back yard playing catch. Charlie throws a bullet at Billy, and the ball goes, "Whack!" hitting Billy's glove.

Charlie says, "Your playmates are here, bro, and I gotta meet my boys for some afternoon brews."

To us, he says, "Hi, boys," then he points at Ronny, "Hey, what the hell? You fucked up the haircut I gave you."

Ronny's like, "Oh, I, um..." and, grinning, Charlie adds, "What's up with that?"

Ronny touches his hair and blushes, "Nah, ah, I mean..."

Billy says, "He's kidding you, Ron!" Charlie rubs Ronny's head, "He's right! I'm just kidding you. Haha," and he gets in his mom's van and takes off. That was the first time I saw Ronny blush.

Billy puts an arm across my shoulders, smiling and mumbling, "My favorite person ever. How are you doing, Gary?" The hug was a guy's hug but with a quick-as-a-wink kiss on my lips, too, leaving me dizzy and groping my junk.

I gulp, "Good, I'm good, Billy."

He goes, "Hi, Ronny. Um, do you guys want a beer or a soda?" I look at Ronny to see what he says. Our eyes meet, and he realizes I'm not going to answer, so he says, "No thank, Underwood. We just had a soda before coming over here."

Billy asks, "So, how are you two getting along?"

I say, "As you probably expected, Ronny and I are stupidly in love, and it happened the first minute we were alone together. How did you know we'd be like that?"

He chuckles, "Heh-heh, I'm a genius. Ronny stood out to me because he reminded me so much of you, Gary. You and I had a really cool year together, but I wasn't nearly a good enough boyfriend for you. You deserve better, and I found the right guy for that. Didn't I, Lynch?"

Ronny says, "You're a genius, alright. You hooked me up with Wallingford here, and we're gonna be lovers together when we're ninety years old. You never said anything about that when you said you had a match for me."

"Yeah, well, if I decide I need to go back to dating guys, I'm stealing Gary back. He's the best boyfriend type there is. Then you won't have to worry about being 'effing ninety with him."

Ronny mumbles, "You're going to be in for a big surprise if you try that."

Billy's arm is around my neck, and I realize I'm almost melding into his body as I've always done. He asks me, "What do you think about that, Gary?"

Two guys I love are talking about me. Almost fighting over me. I mumble, "I don't know."

Ronny and Billy chuckle as Billy mumbles, "Of course, you don't... haha. Anyway, I asked you guys to come over before the softball game so we can get on the same page about the college apartment. My parents are driving me crazy, nagging me about how much next year's college loan should be. They are not cool about money; they get nervous, so we need to know what the apartment split three ways is going to cost us. And that means we need to choose an apartment."

Ronny and I say at the same time, "That's not a problem!" Then Ronny adds, "You're our idol, Underwood. Haha, we depend on you to make all the decisions for us. So, what do you want us to do? Right, Richie?"

Billy's like, "Richie?" and he looks at me.

Ronny says, "That's what I call him," and he tells Billy about the bully named Gary in the seventh grade. Billy rolled his eyes, then showed us a list of apartment vacancies near the college on his iPad that we needed to check out. "Next weekend, guys, we need to decide on one. We'll go there and talk to the realtor."

Ronny and I nod, and that's what we'll do. Ronny and I need Billy to push us into making decisions.

So, we'll check out the top three choices next weekend, probably agree with the one Billy wants, then put money down for the first and last month's rent. I'm sure one or two of our parents will get involved, although I don't believe they're necessary. There are some life situations, however, when it's easier and wiser to let a parent think they're necessary. We'll see about that...

With that settled, Billy squeezes the back of my neck, asking, "Is Ronny taking as good care of you as I did?"

I'm docile for him, my heart going pitter-patter with my love for him, "Ronny and I decided that I don't need taking care of."

Ignoring that, Billy looks at Ron, asking, "You're taking good care of Gary, right?"

Ronny says, "It's more like Wallingford is taking good care of me. And I've gotta say thank you for hooking us up. Much appreciated, and, damn, saying we appreciate it is the biggest understatement of all time. You don't realize how connected he and I are!"

Billy gives me a look, and I step next to Ronny, agreeing with him. Billy shakes his head slowly, "You two owe me big time, so I'm taking the bigger bedroom in our apartment."

Ronny and I, an arm still around each other now, nod and smirk. Ronny says, "That's what Richie and I expected, Billy."

We don't care what size bedroom we have. We look at Billy, waiting for him to decide when it's time to go. He chuckles, "Jesus, you two make my dick hard. C'mon, let's go to the high school."

With Billy carrying his glove, the three of us walk out to my car, where Ronny steps in front of Billy to get in the front passenger seat. During the drive to the high school, I'm like, "Ronny, do you have any cool factoids."

He goes, "Yep, here's one. The incredibly delicious breakfast cereal, Froot Loops, are all the same flavor."

Billy goes, "What? Bullshit! The different colors have different tastes."

Ronny shakes his head, "Nope, they all taste the same."

Billy says, "You're wrong, but here is a historical fact that will make you go... huh. In world history, there were three major plagues that caused millions of deaths: one during Emperor Justinian's reign in 542 AD, then the plague that was called the black death plague of 1348 AD, and the Rinderpest disease that caused famine in the middle ages. Now, here's the mind-blowing thing: all three plagues started in China, and it's likely Covid-19 started there too."

Ronny and I glance at one another, shaking our heads slightly, then Ronny says, "That sounds, um, impossible. How could those three plagues spread from China without air travel? And all Foot Loops do taste the same!"

Ronny and Billy talked about final exams and how Billy finishes his last one this coming Monday while Ronny has his last one Wednesday morning. That really doesn't affect me. I'm thinking about how to come 'out' to the neighborhood boys in a way that involves only Ronny and me and has nothing to do with Billy Underwood. Most guys won't give a shit that Ronny and I are gay, but some stone-age dorks will be assholes about it. We simply will avoid being in their company.

I park on the basketball court because the parking lot is full for the baseball field. A lot of guys and girls have turned out for this softball tournament. Yes, there are girls, too, some of whom will be playing in the games, although not on our team. Games are being played on two fields, so Billy checks in at the table to verify our starting time. Then we find this year's captain, Spike Nichols, talking with Pat Summers.

Pat and I do a tight hug, him saying, "Hey, Bud. Looking good." I love Pat, and I'd be okay with him joining the three of us in the college apartment, except he's moving on from community college and going to Villanova in the fall.

Then Pat does an abbreviated guy hug with Billy and Ronny. Spike assigned himself as catching, me at second base, Billy as our pitcher, Ronny in right field, and Pat will be our shortstop. Spike will assign the other guys the remaining positions.

With that done, we've got almost an hour before our game, so we wander around, stopping to watch the two games being played. Pat drifts off to talk with guys, then I tell Ronny, "There's my friend from Weis Market, George Brown. He's playing first base on that Upper Darby team."

Billy mumbles, "You and he were boyfriends, right?"

"Not really. He's gay, but we never really got into anything serious. We're good friends, though."

As we seemingly do every five seconds, Ronny and I grin at one another. He subtly shakes his head as if he thinks I'm going to start kissing him or something. I put my finger to my lips, "Shh!" and we start snickering. He mutters, "Stop it..."

Billy goes, "Gawd, you two!"

See, Ronny's definitely becoming the bossy one, and I love that. Without thinking about it, we again put an arm across each other's shoulders and watch the game until the half-inning is over; then, taking my arm off Ronny, I yell, "George, how's it going, bro?"

Billy and Ronny are talking with two guys. I don't know who they are, so they're probably from college. I get a big smile from George as he's jogging over. We hug tightly; then, he steps back, saying, "Guess who's here with me?"

I shrug, and he goes, "JR! You remember him from the party we went to last summer, right?"

Nodding, "Of course, I remember those guys."

Ronny's back. He bumps my side, and I grin at him, my arm going around his waist. I introduce him to George as my boyfriend, and they nod and bump fists. George says, "Nice to meet you, Ronny. You've got yourself a special boyfriend in Gary."

Ronny says, "Nice meeting you, George, and yeah, Richie is super special." Then he explains why he calls me that.

Chuckling, and then, for something to say, I ask George, "Is JR still going with that tall girl, whatshername?"

"Oh, you mean Brenda Tucker?"

"Yeah, Tuck," and George says, "They broke up over the Christmas break. The Tens are here somewhere, though. Rick and Arnie. Plus, my boyfriend is around too."

"Oh, a boyfriend, huh? Do I know him?"

George says, "I doubt it," then pointing, he says, "Oh, there he is," and he calls, "Yo, Gerry!"

He tells me, "Gerry and I have been going together for almost three months now, and get this; he's written gay erotic stories on Nifty." I'm like, "Get the hell out of here! No, are you serious?"

Chuckling, he nods, "Yeah, he's our celebrity. He wrote 'Band Boy.'"

I go, "No shit, I read that. It was great!"

A normal-looking guy asks George, "What's up?" George introduces us by calling Gerry Gerard, but I don't catch his last name, not that it matters. Then JR comes over, pointing at me, asking George, "He's, um, you brought him to my birthday party..." George goes, "Yeah, that's Gary Wallingford."

JR and I nod at one another and bump fists as he asks George, "When does your game start?"

George says he's playing the game right now, and Ronny wanders over, carrying a can of Miller Lite, "Here ya go, Richie." I take the beer, mumbling, "Oh, thanks! You bought me a beer even though you don't drink. Bro, that's awesome of you!"

Before I could introduce Ronny to Gerry, Gerard said, "I'm Gerry, George's boyfriend." Then he asks, "What kind of glasses are you wearing? The frames, I mean. They're cool. Did you get those at Lens Crafters?"

Ronny nods, "Yeah, I did," and Gerry's like, "Can I try them on? They won't look as good on me, but I want to see if they feel as comfortable as they look on you."

George rolls his eyes and mumbles, "Sorry, Gary, but Gerry is a bit of a flirt, and he's got his sights on your boy, Ronny. How long have you guys been boyfriends?"

I mutter, "Only like a week, but it was love at first sight."

Gerry tried on the glasses and is now putting them back on Ronny, saying, "Honestly, I'm not coming on to you, but you have beautiful eyes. The tortious shell frames sort of play off the various brown shades of your eyes. That's what I noticed first."

Ronny pushes his glasses up, grinning at me, muttering, "How come you never mention my beautiful eyes, Richie?"

We all chuckle as Gerry casually rubs Ronny's back, asking, "Are you playing ball in one of these games, Ronny?"

I interrupt, "Hey, he's mine! I'm not joking here; I'm the only one who's allowed to rub his back."

I step over and put my arm across Ronny's shoulder again, adding, "Yeah, he's mine."

Ronny says, "Yeah, my boyfriend is wicked jealous and will scratch your eyes out if you're not careful."

Ha-ha, there's chuckling, although I wasn't kidding around. Then George says, "If I were the jealous type, Gerry would have put me in a mental institution with all the flirting he does. Oops, they just made the third out." He quickly bumps fists with Ronny, saying, "It was nice meeting you."

Gerry follows George as he jogs back to his position on the diamond. Ronny smirked at me, held my hand, and mumbled, "That guy was flirting with me, so he must need eyeglasses passing you up to flirt with me."

We sit on the grass watching the game George is playing, and I'm like, "You underestimate your sexiness, Ronny. Plus, Gerry may have thought, as some guys do, that I'm too girlie-looking."

He mutters, "Bullshit," and squeezes my hand, "You're the best-looking, cutest boy in Delaware County." I grin and murmur, "Thanks, Ronny." and look at Billy and Pat talking with someone from college. We wait for them to finish, then Ronny and I get up, and the four of us walk to one of the food trucks.

I liked that it was Ronny who George's boyfriend, Gerry, was flirting with. See, I'm not the only one who thinks my boyfriend is hot. Plus, there is a certain vibration coming off Ronny that I can feel, and apparently, Gerry felt it as well. Waiting in line at a food truck, Ronny whispers to me, "I miss all the hugging we do when we're alone, Wallingford."

I whisper back, "We can do all the hugging we want, Ronny. We're out of the closet," and wrap him in my arms, then kiss him.

He extricates himself, pulling me out of the food truck line, hissing, "No! Stop that! Don't make a spectacle of us. We're not a freak show."

With a tight grip on my arm. he walks me further away from the line. Pouting, I'm like, "Please stop pulling me."

We stop, and I look around, seeing the people behind us in line gawking at us, so I whisper, "Well, excuse me, Mr. Bossy, but you're the one who said you missed our hugging, and now you've got people looking at us."

Sounding and looking contrite, Ronny says, "Oh, damn, I'm sorry! Really, I am. I freak out like that sometimes. Don't be mad, Richie. I meant when we're alone. I meant all the hugging and kissing we do when we're alone. Not in public, though." He moves his face in front of me, "Do you know what I mean, my wonderful, sweet boyfriend?"

Making a grumpy face, I mutter, "Yeah, I guess, but you don't need to shout at me like I'm a fucking kid."

Now he looks hurt, so I go, "No, you didn't do that. I mean, yes, I know what you meant. We're not going to flaunt our gayness in peoples' faces, right? That's what you meant, right?"

He nods, "Yes, but I shouldn't have spoken to you with that tone of voice. I apologize for that. And you've been right all along; I do sometimes get bossy and act as if I'm the only person who knows what's the proper way to do, um, anything. People have told me that's a fault I have, and I don't want to be like that with you."

I'm like, "Oh, yeah? Well, that's okay, Ronny. Now I know something else about you, and anyway, I don't mind if you're bossy with me. Plus, if you snap at me sometimes, now I know why. We're learning about one another. It's, um, thrilling for me to learn more about you."

Both of us nod our heads, but I'm hesitant to hug him. We get in the back of the food truck line, Ronny whispering, "I'm sorry for that. Don't be mad at me, okay?"

Looking into his eyes, I grin, saying, "SHH!" and we snicker and bump against one another. I go, "SHH!" and he mutters, "No, don't get me laughing again. That's enough, Richie!!"

He, amazingly, doesn't realize he just used that know-it-all, bossy tone of voice with me again. It was exactly the way he hissed at me in the food truck line, sternly saying, "STOP IT!"

I mumble, "Okay, I'm sorry."

He pats my arm, "Cool it for a while, okay? You're getting all worked up."

Grinning to myself, I'm thinking, this is working out really well. I look at Ronny, my eyes shining with love and admiration for him. He looks at me, grins uncertainly, and asks, "What?" I shake my head and lean against him, as happy as I've ever been in my life.

He rubs my shoulder, whispering, "I guess a hug won't hurt." I murmur, "I love you," and he murmurs, "Me too. I could eat you up."

We ate hot dogs instead; what else would you eat at a baseball game? Billy and Pat are off again, talking with girls this time. I don't recognize the girls, so they must be from college too. I say to Ronny, "It'd be great to have a smoke right now."

Putting our trash in a trash can, he says, "Sweetheart, I told you before that I don't mind if you smoke when we're outside." I shrug, Really?" and someone swats the back of my head, knocking my hat off, saying, "Wallingford, what are you doing at a baseball game? Queers don't like sports."

It's Ron Smart, of course. His girlfriend, Sara, is close by, talking with another girl. Ron is a bully who thinks of me as his punching bag. Ronny Lynch thinks of me differently. He picks up my hat, yelling at Smark, "Asshole, what's your problem?"

Smart says to Ronny, "Watch your language! I'm with my girlfriend, you little twit. I'll tie your wee-wee in a knot if you give me anymore shit."

Taking my hat from Ronny and putting it on, I mutter, "Thanks, Ronny. Ignore him," then Sara says, "Hi, Gary."

"Hi, Sara. How can you stand that guy?" and nod at Ron Smart. She shrugs, asking, "Who's your friend?"

She knows Ronny's not from the neighborhood. I put my arm across Ronny's shoulders, saying, "This is my boyfriend, Ronny Lynch." Then lie, saying, "I met him at community college when I was pre-registering for the fall semester." I didn't want to mention Billy's name.

Sara's eyes open wide, "Your boyfriend? Well, good for you two brave souls." Smart looks confused, muttering, "Boyfriend? You're admitting you're gay?"

I nod, "Uh-huh, Ronny and I are gay boyfriends. I just said that a minute ago. "

Sara Donalds says, "As you know all too well, Gary, my Ron is a Neanderthal when it comes to the progressive thinking of inclusiveness and accepting diversity, but I'm helping him with that."

Ron Smart, still looking confused, mumbles, "You're saying that you're queer, right? Huh, I never actually thought you were queer, Wallingford. You and Underwood were always together, and you both had those stupid haircuts--the one you have right now. But you're admitting you're queer, though; do I have that right? For real? How about Underwood?"

I say, "Billy? Fuck, no! He's not gay. Why the hell would you think that? And why are you acting as if you've never heard of anyone being gay?"

He goes, "Huh? Wha..."

Billy had walked up behind me, asking, "What the fuck did Smart say?" Then to Ron Smart, "Are you calling me queer?"

Shaking his head, Smart says, "No, but your little girlie friend, Wallingford, just said he's queer. He just admitted it. Plus, you're all out of your fucking minds, so I'm not sure if that little prick is serious or not."

Sara laughs, then says, "C'mon, Ron, these bad boys confuse you. Let's get a couple of beers, and I'll try explaining everything."

He says, "I know when I'm being put on, Sara." Then to us, "Fuck you guys," and Sara laughs, then says, "Good luck, guys. See you around."

We watch them walk off as Billy mutters, "That will have Smart confused for weeks."

Ronny and I still have an arm across each other's shoulders, hardly aware we're doing it. I tell Billy, "That prick, Smart, will get his tongue in a knot in his anxiousness to tell every guy in the neighborhood I'm gay. I just wanted to be sure you weren't included, Billy. It's Ronny and me, the two queer lovers. Tongues will wag."

Billy shrugs and says, "Probably not as much as you think, Gary. Most people won't care. Then, when the closeted gays in the neighborhood hear it, and I don't know who they are, they'll be jealous that they don't have the balls to do what you and Lynch did."

Later, we won our first game, 6 to 3, so we then played the winner of the earlier game, losing that game. So that was the end of our team's participation in this year's Spring Township single-elimination softball tournament.

Baseball is fun to play, and I did pretty well, getting two hits and not making an error at second base; plus, I enjoyed running into George, happy he has a boyfriend. Gerry-something is a Nifty author who flirted with my boyfriend, which I thought was cool.

However, the best part of the day was coming out as gay to that asshole Ron Smart, then how Pat, Ronny, Billy, and I got along all day. As far as the apartment goes, Ronny and I know that Billy will be in charge, and we're relieved he'll be part of it. The three of us are extremely happy with our roles, too--Ronny and me, gay lovers, and Billy, the sensible, affectionate big brother figure.

I can't imagine how my life could be any better than it is right now. What could possibly go wrong?

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com

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