Olivers Adventures

OLIVER'S ADVENTURES

Chapter 12 (The Roommate I)

by Donny Mumford

Driving back from Frankie's I feel both fabulous and sad at the same time. Fabulous because Frankie and me finally have an agreement about us; two actually. For one, we're best buds, and spit swapping best buds at that. And two, Frankie said we can do gay sex if as long as he's the one getting his dick sucked or the one doing the fucking. He claims he's not gay, but he can bend the rules as long as I'm the one getting fucked or doing the oral sex on him. He's the boy in our relationship and I'm the girl, sorta like that. It's ludicrous, but fine by me if Frankie wants to rationalize it that way. To get us off and running, he fucked me twice this afternoon and it was fantastic, so there a reason right there I have this feeling fabulous. The reason I'm feeling sad is because the earliest I'll see Frankie again is two or three weeks from now. It's probably stupid to love someone to the degree I love him, but there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about, which I don't want to anyway. I'm pretty sure Frankie said he loves me too. That was during our tearful farewell. Mostly my tears, but Frankie said he felt like crying too. It's part of growing up I guess, learning to deal with separations and disappointments. I tell myself, 'Toughen up, Oliver!' And a good place to start showing some toughness would be to avoid crying again, which I feel like doing. For Christ sake, I'm much too old to be crying everytime something isn't going the way I want.

Pulling into into a shopping center's and park, I get out to have a cigarette and try chilling. Saying goodbye is a bitch. Love hurts, don't let anybody tell you differently. Damn! I know I'm going to miss him so much. I can still smell Frankie on my arms from hugging him around his neck and I can taste his saliva and I can feel some of his wetness on my bottom from the second time he did me. I bet I have a wet spot on the seat of my favorite cargo shorts right now. Maybe I'll hide these so Mom can't wash them. Ha ha, I'll wear them at college with Frankie's dried cum making them stiff. Oh, fuck! I love him so much I feel dizzy, or maybe it's the cigarette.The dizziness makes me feel sick to my stomach so I try dry heaving, but nothing happens except a man in a car three parking spots away stares at me. He probably thinks I'm drunk and I almost wish I was. Emotionally exhausted is what I am and a nap would be nice. A few tears drip out of my eyes and it's damn embarrassing to be so emotional. Drying my eyes on my arm again, and when that doesn't work, I pull my cum-stained T-shirt up to use it too. My tears dry up and I chastising myself again for being such a baby; nineteen year old guys don't act like this. One last wipe with the back of my forearm and I get back in the Mini and a minute later I'm into traffic again. Now I feel totally beat-up and the traffic's heavy so the drive takes longer than usual. When I get home I find the house mercifully empty and what a pleasant surprise that is. Crashing on the couch until some time later my mom wakes me for dinner. Mom and dad have concerned looks on their faces, asking me if I'm okay; I didn't even hear them come home. I assure them I'm fine as I back out of the room and hustled up to my room to change my cum stained shorts before dinner; guess I looked guilty or something.

After dinner we load the SUV with my clothes, computer, TV, books and lots of other stuff, some of it stuff my parents insist I take with me; totally unnecessary and dorky things. For example, a big pile of big, fat, fluffy towels. No one else in college has big fluffy towels, but with my seriously misguided parents it's best to just endure the madness. It's a burden on me, but they have plenty of good qualities too, but unfortunately being cool is not among them. After a good nights sleep we start out very early in the morning. It's a five hour drive for me in the Mini, but my parents will take somewhat longer. Thankfully I get to drive my car, and they get to drive their SUV. That works out nicely, thank you very much. Actually, me driving to college is a major big deal and initially I didn't think I'd be allowed. Freshman living in dorms aren't normally permitted to have a car on campus. I sidestepped that technicality by applying for an "Assistance-Group" exception, was accepted and got a sticker to park my car on campus. The "Assistance Group" is a very old official campus organization with a mission of providing free assistance to incoming freshman. I'm now a member of this do-gooder group which makes me an 'Ass. Group' for short, or 'Ass. kissing Group', as member of the student body sometime refer to us. Being a member is an easy way to get two credits each year toward your degree, but you normally have to kiss some falculty member's ass to get admitted. I didn't even know about that when I applied, I just wanted a parking pass for my car.

The Ass. Group members are asked to assist in any one of a hundred ways. Maybe I'll be an aid to someone who needs help getting around, a student on crutches perhaps or a blind student, God forbid. Or maybe I'll have to chauffeur someone to doctors appointment or anything really, hell, I don't know. If a student needs assistance, I'm their boy. I don't know that much about it because I didn't read all the material they sent me. I also have no idea why I was admitted to the group, not that I really care. I've never been much of a joiner, but I really needed to have the car with me. How else would I get to see Frankie and the twins and Alexander and stuff like that? So, no problem dude, sign my ass up for whatever. The University of Pennsylvania is inside the city limits of Philadelphia so there aren't any rolling hills or expansive lawns on campus. There's a lot of cement and black-top and a lot of brick and ivy-covered old buildings. Even without beautiful grounds, and even though I had that unique getting lost with Ryjohn experience in the nearby projects last Spring, I still like the intercity atmosphere. The energy and excitement of big city life, plus the atmosphere of a major Ivy League university all wrapped-up together. I liked everything about it right from the first time I was here.

After arriving on campus I need to wait forty-five minutes for my dad and mom to arrive. Dad drives agonizingly slow. Pretending I recently arrived myself, I tell dad, "I haven't had time to scope out the reception and admissions area, but I believe it's down this street so just follow me". Mom smiles proudly at me, but my Dad makes a face like he know I'm full of it, and of course I am. I had plenty of time to drive around and find-out where we should go. Registering is extremely tedious; that's the best thing I can say about it. We won't be starting classes for two days, but there are orientation meetings that freshman must attend. That still leaves a lot of free time for me to get reacquainted with the campus. As part of registration I'm assigned my dormitory building and my room, so off we go to have a look at my room and unpack the cars. When we get there I'm pleased with both the dorm I in and the room. I immediately think about Cristobal's dorm from last spring and right off it's apparent how much better my dormitory is than his. Better because my dormitory is centrally located near all the main classroom areas, dining rooms, recreation facilities etc. But, by far, the number one reason my dorm is better is it has a private bathroom for each of the rooms on the first floor. And, my room's on the first floor. No waiting for elevators, but much more importantly, no community bathing and shitting and such. On the wall next to the front door a three by five card has been taped. On it, written in big block letters, "NICKERSON/GALLO". I now knew the name of my roommate, but that's all I know about him.

Like all the dorm rooms ours has twin beds, two desks and a bookcase. Our bathroom is odd because it has all those fat chrome bars for a handicapped person, maybe my roommate is handicapped. I hope not for his sake, and for my sake too. Dad and mom look at the room and say, "Small, isn't it?" I give them an annoyed look because they just don't get it. We move my stuff in from the cars without much sweat. Jeez, I wonder if the luck of getting this dorm is just another part of the lucky streak I've been on lately. It's awesome. We finish unloading and still no sign of my roommate so off we go to eat. I'm starved. We have lunch off campus and then tour the University grounds, endlessly it seem, but finally my parents are ready to head back home and by then I'm quite anxious for them to be on their way. I tell them it's best to get back home before dark because dad doesn't like driving at night. The goodbye was quick, just some awkward hugs and kisses. My brother Christian left home, and now me, so I do feel really bad for my folks as they're leaving, honestly I did. The bottom line is that they're wonderful, caring parents, but I want desperately to be on my own. Plus, I had that "Ass Kissing Group" meeting at three o'clock in the library. The folks pull away waving goodbye with one hand and wiping at their eyes with the other. When they turn at the corner I breathe a sigh of relief and head for the library and my meeting. I'm anxious to get this group nuisance over with and I'm dying for a cigarette. The folks don't know about my recently acquired nasty habit, but a college student should smoke, don't ya think. Fortunately Frankie had taught me how, more or less.

Puffing away while walking toward the library I can't help but hope my luck holds up as far as any kind of Group assignment goes. I'd much rather just be on call, assuming they have something like that. And, of course, I'm still worried about my roommate. This has been an area of concern for me on and off all summer. The dread of getting an asshole for a roommate is huge. I have no choice in the matter of course. Freshman year we have a roommate assigned, period. I filled out a questionnaire about my likes and dislikes so they do try to match kids up with similar interest when possible. That questionnaire is okay as far as it goes, but it doesn't address the asshole factor so I still need to get lucky. First the great dorm room and now, please, a great roommate. There are only twenty Freshman in the "Ass kisser Group" each year so it's kind of an exclusive group. This year all but three of the members are girls.The falculty member in charge says everyone is going to get some kind of assignment so obviously I'm going to have to do more than be on call like I was hoping for. An older no nonsense woman with a hairy mole on her chin passes out these assignments and gives instructions with each one. As each kid gets their assignment he or she goes on their way. Finally it's just me and the old lady. She says, "Okay, well you must be Oliver Nickerson. Right?" I nod my head and she goes on to explain that my assignment entails the biggest commitment of this semester, a big responsibility. I smile, nod my head again, thinking, "Oh shit!".

My roommate is my assignment. He's a boy in a wheelchair who'd been in a car accident and I was to be his care giver. The lady said I'd received this assignment because I'm the only one out of all the kids who applied for admission to the group that checked off the 'yes' space on the application for, 'able to provide extensive care giving'. Well hell, I'd checked every block because I was desperate to bring my Mini Cooper to college and getting in this god damn Ass Kissing Group was my only hope. I mean, what are the odds some Freshman's going to need nursing care? God damnit! I have no luck. Calming myself I realize that if I want to stay in the program this wheelchair kid is my baby. Plus, thinking about it, how much assistance could he need? Well, quite a bit I find out as the lady, with me staring at the mole, goes on to explain. For one thing, he needs to be fed because both his elbows were broken in the accident. They're in hard casts. He also has a broken kneecap which is the reason for the wheelchair. Hmmmm, now that I re-think this, it does sound like a lot of trouble. On the other hand, I rationalize, how long does it take for bones to heal, six weeks or so? I get to keep my car the entire year no matter if my duties are completed in six days or six months. The mole lady confirms this will be my only commitment for the year. What the hell, it could have been worse I guess, but still I want to kick myself in the ass for checking off every freaking block on the application. I hadn't even read them, just put a check in each one. Well, anyway now I know why I was accepted in the group so quickly.

Walking over to my dorm it dawns on me that the fabulous dorm and room location are undoubtedly a result of wheelchair boy too. It had nothing to do with my luck. Right, if it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all. I'm feeling sorry for myself again. Please dear God, don't let this wheelchair kid be a fatso or a ball buster or a dick head. Six weeks of being a primary care giver is starting to seem like a bigger deal with each step I take toward my dorm. I light up another cigarette nervously, worrying about the mess I'd gotten myself into this time. My needy wheelchair roommate should be in the room by now for sure. I'll soon know what kind of kid I have to deal with. It doesn't take me long to walk to the dorm and I'm kinda nervous when I get there so I stand outside and have yet another cigarette, wishing my brother was around. Just to pump up my confidence and give me some advise, not for anything sexy. Finally, I go in the front door of the dorm and take two steps to my left and, ta da, my room, convenient. The card with our two names printed in block letters is still there. Popping a couple of breath mints I stare at his name, GALLO. Italian? My hand on the door knob, ready to turn it with trepidation, thinking, 'Good guy or asshole?' I open the door slightly and hear the unmistakable sound of a long rumbling fart. What the hell? Sticking my head tentatively around the edge of the door and there sits this bean pole of a kid in a wheelchair, leaning to one side with one buttocks lifted off the seat straining out this five or six second fart. He doesn't see or hear me because his concentration is totally fixated on that fart. His eyes and mouth squeeze tightly shut as the motorboat sounding fart rumbles out of his asshole. As the first fart runs-down he takes in a big breath and forces out a short blast of followup flatulence and then relaxes against the back of his chair, a look of relief on his face. I continue to stare with my mouth hanging open as the fart cloud envelopes me and that horrid sulfur/fart smell overwhelms my senses. I go, "Holy shit, gross!".

The bean pole whips his head around with a face as red as an apple, and says, "I'm so sorry, but it's a condition I have. Are you Oliver? Where ya been, man? I need to go to the bathroom bad!" I stutter, "We wel well then, ga go ahead and go." I say that as my brain is trying to make sense of the situation. He has a cast on both arms that covered the lower part of his bicep, his elbow, and the upper half of his forearms. There's a short metal rod connecting between the cast on each forearm to a contraption on his chest that hangs over his shoulders. The cast are set so that his arms bend in toward each other. I find out later this is to allow him to use his lap top computer, but that's all it allows him to do. The rods prevent any other movement of his arms. He has no way to touch his head, or his crotch, or his back side. My brain goes, "Oh, noooo...." The kid has a humiliated look on his face when I'd stuttered, "Go ahead" and he mumbles, "I can't go by myself. You need to help me." I think, 'Well obviously you're fucked over good this time, Oliver. Poo poo boy looks so pathetic though I take pity on him and say, "Oh yeah, sorry. I wasn't thinking." I roll his wheelchair into the bathroom which, as I said, is all set up for a handicapped individual, but not for the way my roommate's handicapped. He can hobble up off the chair on his one good leg and collapse on the toilet seat, but he can't pull down his pants, aim his dick, or wipe himself when he does a poop. Can't pull his pants up when he's done either. I feel sorry for the kid, but this whole deal seems like it's way more than just assisting someone who needs a little help. This seems like a fucking full time job that should be undertaken by someone who's trained for it. I'm mumbling to myself various things along those lines, when he says, "Please, I'm going to pee my pants. Help me get on the toilet. " I'm like, "Oh..yeah" and I awkwardly try to help him over to the toilet, him hopping on one leg. I pull down his pants with one hand and with the other hold him around his waist so he can balance himself on that one good leg. Then, with his pants down, I lower him to the toilet seat.

He immediately starts to pee but it's firing off to the side and some of the piss spray begins coming out between the rim of the toilet and the toilet seat. "Oh, you need to adjust my penis, please....". I go "Huh?" and then "Oh, yeah" and reaching down I straightened it out so the piss stream hits the inside of the toilet bowl. What the fuck, I decide to hold onto his dick till he's done his pee. Nice dick, uncut, about six and a half inches inches long. Then another hissing sounding fart from bean poll's ass, followed by a long poop. "Fuck!" I grunt, as I walk out of the bathroom. I hear a pathetic, "I'm really sorry" behind me. Well, this sucks! I put my head out the front door for some fresh air. Jesus, how am I ever going to do this? In less than a minute I hear, "I'm done, Oliver." Reluctantly I go back in the bathroom and see him trying his best to twist around and bend down at the same time, hoping to flush the toilet by hitting the lever with the bottom part of his elbow cast. I say, "What the fuck?' and push the lever to flush the offensive material away forever. "I'm sorry" he says again. All I can do is shake my head while helping him lean into me, balanced on his one leg again, and using a lot of toilet paper, I wipe his ass three times with him grimacing and grunting, undoubtedly because of the rash in his buttock crack. Flushing the toilet a second time and pulling up his pants I guide him to sit back in the wheelchair. As I'm washing my hands I hear. "Thank you so much, Oliver. I really had to go." I say, "It's nothing. Chill, dude." Pushing him back to our room I'm thinking, 'Okay, what the hell, at least let me take the time to look him over and maybe get some fun out of this. I've been a boy watcher since I was about ten years old. Love to look for cute aspects in a guy's face. Hey, wouldn't it be a pisser if he's gay?'

Back in our room now, he sits there in his wheelchair staring at me as I sit in a desk chair evaluating his looks. Skinny as a bean poll, like I said and he isn't as tall as I initially thought, probably not much taller than me. Olive complexion with dark blue eyes and dark brown shaggy hair. A few minor, random pimples on his chin. His nose is definitely going to be too big if it continues to grow, but for now, it being a little too big for his face struck me as kind of cute. He's very young and innocent looking. Hard to believe he's even old enough to go to college. I guess overall he's handsome, but his face is unremarkable in any one particular area. Everything went together okay. Actually, on second thought, his eyes do qualify as remarkable after all. They're not only big and a very dark blue, but they shine with a lot of warmth. Narrow, dark eyebrows over fairly long black eyelashes. Now that I looked more closely, he has stunning looking eyes. He has an obvious humble way about him too, sitting there patiently with an open look on his face, his lips slightly parted, and brilliantly white teeth too. What the hell, he seems very likable. I decide I'll stick it out and help him as best I can, and it might be fun giving him a bath, for example. See, sometimes I can be an optimist.

"What's your name, dude?" I asked. "Joey Gallo. Weren't you expecting me?" I explain I'd seen his last name on the card outside our door, but that I'd just now come directly from the Ass. Group meeting where I'd been informed I'd be taking care of him. Pointing at the file on the desk that I'd carried in with me, I say, "I haven't had a chance to read about you yet. I've known about you, in a general sense, for the last ten minutes, that's all". He tells me he's read some about me from the paperwork he received earlier. He wants to know if I'd run into his mother who went off looking for me some time ago. Apparently she'd been under the impression I was to be here at one o'clock taking over Joey's care from her, I suppose. Looking puzzled, I say, "I can't imagine where she got that idea. I wasn't even assigned to care for you until about three-thirty. Hell, the meeting wasn't until three o'clock." He shakes his head and sort of sighs saying, "My mother can be problematic at times, very stern too, and pushy even. She scares some people to tell ya the truth." Then he does a small, nervous, pretend laugh and averts his eyes. I do my pretend cough. He goes on to tell me she'd been to see her plastic surgeon earlier in the day and gotten her regular treatment of Botox injections so her face is stiff and sore which just adds to the frustration she always seems to feel. He says, "Life is a challenge for mother, or maybe life in general just pisses her off. Me being in this condition just about put her over the top. I know she's thrilled I'll be out of her hair now, and into yours." Joey looks up at me with a worried look as soon as he said that. He wants to see if I'd be upset, I guess. I give him a half hearted smile.

He speaks in a quiet voice, not so much shy as humble, like I mentioned earlier. As much as his words, his demeanor, you know, his body language, the way he speaks and his sincere expression make me realize how vulnerable he must feel, and how very dependent on me, a total stranger, he is. For some reason, a strange nurturing feeling comes over me and now I actually want to protect him and take care of him. I feel even worse for him when he tells me about his accident, which happened almost a month ago. He'd been driving his Mustang convertible with his best friend riding shotgun. They were goofing around, not paying enough attention and their car rear ends a UPS truck that pulled out in front of them. It caused Joey's car to swerve out of control crashing into a fire hydrant. Neither of the boys were wearing their seat belts. Joey flew out of the car, hitting his head on the top of the windshield and landing unconscious on his elbows and one knee, all three joints were cracked. He also has internal injuries when his gut connected with the steering wheel on his unfortunate trip over the windshield. This is causing him some bloating and blockage, hence a lot of farting.

When his best friend flew out of the car and landed on the pavement he broke his neck and died instantly. Joey begins crying when he told me that, and thinking about Tyler I get up to try and console him. Joey doesn't want to be comforted though. Blubbering now, "No, please, it's alright. I'm dealing with it myself, internally. I'd rather have it that way. Mostly it was the worst fucking bad luck just a fucking fraction of a second difference in the speed of my car or the speed of the UPS truck and we don't even touch. Eric, by friend, was doing some grab ass with me and I took my eyes off the road for a second and the shit hit the fan, so ta speak. I can't put into words how sorry I am about it all. I wish to God I could tell Eric that." Joey gave me more details as his crying dies down. Its horrifically sad. Youthful deaths are the hardest to get over I think. Not only my personal failure to deal with Tyler's ridiculous accident, but all the other heartbreaking stories everyday on the news about some young kid getting kidnapped or raped or murdered or killed in some kind of accident; our's is a scary and dangerous world! The heartbreak and heartache can be beyond words, Joey's right about that. I light up another cigarette because it's stressful listening to this. Joey says, "Oh my God, can I have a drag?" We share the cigarette with me taking a drag and then holding it up to Joey's lips for him to take one too. He lips the filter with each drag and I taste his saliva while thinking about Frankie's spit, and my dick starts to get hard.

Then, all of a sudden, I'm thinking, 'Joey and Eric are grab ass buddies? Hmmm, gay?' Oh man, I know this is just wrong. Sometimes I hate how insensitive I can be. I hit my forehead to try and get my brain working on something besides gay sex. Concentrate on this poor kid and his sorrow and his sad situation. And the situation you're in too ya knucklehead, that's my advise to myself. Joey's so polite and apparently without an ego, it gives me a guilty conscience to let my mind wander to sex all the time. 'Try to focus.' I yell at myself in my head, as I put the cigarette out in the toilet. Just spending the last fifteen minutes with him I can tell that Joey's the kind of kid that was popular in High School. Not a leader, but they'd be very few classmates who would have anything negative to say about Joey Gallo. He's real unassuming, a go-along, positive thinking kind of kid, but very introspective too, although keeping things that trouble him inside him isn't necessarily a good idea. Over the next few months he described his guilty conscience and grief over the death of his friend, but he was never looking for sympathy, he's a realist about the accident. Joey handled his sadness and loss much better than I'd handled mine with Tyler, but he was a lot older when his accident occurred and therefore more mature. None the less, I admire him for moving on in a positive way to the degree he has, but I learned all that later. He has a pleasant sounding, youthful voice and he wants to talk, maybe he's nervous. I don't mind listening as I stare at him and marvel at his ever improving looks. He tells me he'd been in a gymnastic club with his friend Eric for the past five years and this past summer he'd been recruited to be on the University's gymnastic team. The gymnastics coach and some of his teammates, to be supportive, emailed Joey when they heard of the accident. They want Joey to know he's still on the team and they'd be rooting for his full recovery and stuff like that. Also, they'd be picking him up each day for practice even though all he can do right now is observe. This is something Joey's very much looking forward to. He gets excited talking about the gymnastic stuff and I see his cute little grin for the first time, sweet.

Shortly Joey Gallo and me really are getting along easily and it's one of those deals where you feel you've know someone for a while even though you just met the person. I'd begun to notice more about the body on this kid too. He's a bean poll, but a very fit bean poll. Well, fuck, a gymnast with a fit body! Duh! The subtle muscle definition I can see in his otherwise thin arms and legs, the parts not hidden inside the plaster casts, is eye candy to me and it's intriguing to think of the rest of his body. I start thinking more and more about that bath I'll need to give him when the door bangs open behind me and in comes Mrs Gallo, and she's not happy. Joey cheerfully says, "Hello, Mother". Ignoring Joey, she points at me and with a snarl in her voice, asking, "Are you the Nickerson boy?" I nod and stand up as I'm saying. "Yes, Ma'am. Oliver Nickerson. Nice to meet you." Mrs Gallo is a tallish woman with a red, sharp featured face. Because of her reddish hair and rather pointed face, my first impression is that she looks like a woodpecker. Joey obviously takes after his father's side of the family, or else he's adopted. Mrs Gallo stand stiffly very straight as she lectures me, "I've wasted half the afternoon looking for you and I can't tell you how frustrated I am at this moment. You were very late getting here and that's a big problem because I have no intention of leaving the care of my invalid son to someone who isn't dependable and ...." At that point Joey cut her off with, "Mother, it isn't Oliver's fault. He didn't even know about me till a half hour ago." Mrs Gallo transfers her stare from me to Joey. She didn't move her body, but her eyes go flat and gray likes stones. With that same snarl in her voice she'd used on me, she says, "Joseph, don't ever interrupt me when I'm speaking." Joey looks away, mumbling, "Sorry, Mother." She quickly walks over and sits on Joey's bed muttering something under her breath. Something about Joey's father that I couldn't quite make out. It looks as though she's trying to frown too, but the Botox injections prevent her face from moving.

Giving up on the frown she turns her attention back to me and demands, "Is that right? You just found out about Joseph a half hour ago." I tell her exactly what happened at the meeting. It appears for a moment she doesn't believe me, but then she says, "Okay". She tells me she'd give me another chance, but she clearly isn't happy about things in general. "Now, about what you need to do for Joseph", she says, and then, counting off the items by hitting the palm of her hand with the index finger of her other hand, and her woodpecker head nodding up and down with each point, she gives me a detailed list of instructions for the care of Joseph, er, Joey. She informs me that Joey and I have the same courses and I'd be responsible for getting him to class, "On time each and every day, mister". Also, that he has medication that needs to be taken precisely at six hour intervals and his skin under the shoulder braces must be massaged morning and night to prevent the skin from...... and on and on she goes, but I've stopped listening. When she runs our of breath she rummages through her briefcase and comes up with computer print-outs of the instructions she'd just given me verbally. Joey looks as if he were in pain all through her recitation. I'm kind of fascinated at the gall of this bitch. I'm doing them all a great favor, for free, and she still insists on giving me a bunch of shit about it. Go figure. Mrs Gallo abruptly gets up off Joey's bed, and says, "I'm very late due to this screw-up that you two are partially responsible for." Joey and I look at each other with expressions on our face like, "Say what?". She picks-up the briefcase and her over-sized purse, saying, "I was going to take you both out for lunch, but that's not possible now. Running all over the campus looking for you, Arthur, put me way behind schedule." Joey and me gave each other that look again. Arthur?

Mrs Gallo made a face she probably thought was a smile, and goes, "Don't look so frightened, Arthur, my bark is worse than my bite." Joey says, "Excuse me Mother, but it's Oliver." She tries for a confused look, and says, " Oliver who, Joseph?" Then she gives Joey a kiss on the top of his head that causes her pointed nose to twitch. Looking at the nose I wonder, "More plastic surgery?" She says goodbye and warns us she'll be checking up on us, we could count on that. The last thing from Mrs Gallo is directed at me, "Joseph needs his hair shampooed, and I mean today, Arthur. I suggest you get to work on that right now. Don't fuck-up boys! I'll be watching." The door slams behind her. Joey looks over at me shrugging his shoulders, "I'm really sorry 'bout that, Oliver. We can pick our nose, but we can't pick our family." I'm glad to see Joey can make a joke out of his mother's bizarre behavior. Keeping it light, I mumble, "Well actually Joseph, at the moment you can't pick your nose either. You're double fucked, dude" He has a nice laugh and it makes me smile at him. "Do you want your hair shampooed?" I asks. Joey said he'd like that very much. His mother, he tells me, can't abide doing anything that involves touching a dirty part of the human body, unless the human body is hers. "Mother hired a nurses aid to come in twice a day for three hours each morning and evening to take care of my hygiene concerns," Joey explains, "But the poor old woman she hired didn't have her heart in the job at all. She sucked at it, actually". I go, "Extremely awkward situation," and Joey sums it up, "My humiliation was great the first week or so, but what could I do? Bodily functions don't care if I'm humiliated or not." I ask how much longer for the hard casts and he tells me the bad news, ten more weeks. I mutter, "Fuck. Let's not think about it though. We'll go in the bathroom for a shampoo and then dinner at the University's dining hall #3. Okay?" "Thanks, Oliver. Someday I'll pay you back, man, I promise you!" I mumble, "Sure you will."

As I'm pushing his wheelchair into the bathroom, he tells me how the old nurse did the shampoo routine with him. She put a chair up against the sink, leaning it back with the front legs off the floor; Joey sits in the chair facing away from the sink, his head over the sink. So, using his desk chair, that's what we do except I fold a hand towel to put under his neck for comfort. "Hey, that's nice, Oliver. Wonder why the old nurse never thought of that." I mumble, "No fucking idea, sport." This being a handicapped appointed bath, there are a number of extra items available and one of them is rubber tubing with a shower nozzle on one end; the other end gets attached to the spigot. I use that to wet and rinse Joey's hair, which works fine except his shirt is soaked before we're done. This is my first time though, and it'll get better as I learn from experience. Funny, but I don't mind shampooing his dirty hair; I like boys quite a lot, even straight boys. There's only about a ten percent chance Joey's gay if I can believe the estimates of gay/straight ratio; the one for us in the animal kingdom. Straight or gay, he's still a boy and I'm fond of boys so shampooing his hair is kind of fun for me. I like touching boys, their hair, bodies, whatever. It makes me think of Alexander who works with guys' hair every day as his profession, cutting and shampooing guys hair, and getting paid for it too. Shampooing Joey's hair also makes me feel good because I'm helping him. Wetting his hair and running my fingers through it, then massaging in the shampoo and working the thick suds through his hair gets to be a little sexy and I discover it's a bit of a turn on messing with his hair. This primary care thing might work out much better then I thought. When I've shampooed and rinsed his hair, I use the hairdryer that's provided, combing through his full head of hair as I dry it. Yep, this is really sexy. Joey can't thank me enough too, which is an added bonus because I'm enjoying myself. Joey says this is the first time his hair has been this clean since the accident. Makes me feel real good.

Getting him a dry shirt I discover he's got a supply of specially made shirts that zipper up both sides and under both short sleeves. The front half and the back half of the shirt are connected at the mock turtle neck and across the top of the shoulders and sleeves. When I unzip both sides of his shirt I merely slip it over his head. With his arms in a cast I couldn't get a regular shirt on him. Never realized how complicated things can get. Anyway, I pull his wet shirt over his head and whoa! Joey's got himself a hot torso. It's tight, smooth and hairless with awesome definition, but I shouldn't be surprise, him being a gymnast. Still, I can't help staring at his sexy body. Then, realizing he's looking at me staring at him, I do a fake cough and look away. Oh man, I don't believe I've ever seen a body this toned and I don't mean it's the body builder type, they can look freaky. Joey's body's not gaudy with muscles, just excellent definition. He's no bean poll like I initially thought. Even just sitting in the chair his stomach has those small ripples of muscles under the skin, nice pecs and great biceps, but like I said, not over done at all. His olive toned skin is so smooth I make sure to touch his bare shoulder as I'm taking the wet shirt off. Damn, he's hot. Frankie's hot too, but Frankie and me are the bean poles now that I've seen Joey's body. What ain't so hot though are his armpits; they reek. Not sexy BO like Myers, Joey's pits stink in a bad way needing to be washed and deodorized. I mutter, "Dude, ya ever hear of deodorant? It's this new invention ya might want to consider." Joey looks down and says his favorite two words, "I'm sorry." Then he nods his head toward a small satchel and says, "My toiletries are in the bag over there, but I can't put deodorant on myself and that nurse didn't do it either. Oliver, I can't do anything for myself." He sounds frustrated and embarrassed and now don't I feel like an insensitive prick. I could have used a little tact.

Giving Joey a pat on the shoulder and a smile, I go, "Joey, you're going get better care from me. Don't hesitate to ask me for anything you need, we're gonna bond, dude, 'cause I'm gonna take care of you right." He grins, mumbling, "You're awesome, Oliver, thanks." I dig his deodorant out from a number of toiletry items. It's Old Spice Original and has a crisp, clean scent. Camouflages the BO, but Joey's gonna need a bath soon. He says, "Thanks. You can't imagine how awkward this is for me, but I already feel more comfortable with you, Oliver, than I did with anybody else who's took care of me. Trying to cover-up my inconsiderate remark, I tell him, "You know it, Joey. I was just breaking your balls about the BO, just kidding with you." He mutter, "No problem," as I rub his head telling myself, 'This kid is very likable'. Putting one of his specialty shirts over his head and zipping up both sides, asking, "How we doing, Joey?" and he says, "You're my hero, man. I mean it. I was so nervous about who'd be my care giver at college and you're awesome. You're the best hint that's happened to me since the accident." I ruffled his hair again, that comment made me feel good. It's a beautiful early evening in Philly as I push Joey's wheelchair toward dining hall #3. I'm feeling pretty good about myself and lucky too. I mean I've got a hot, helpless boy in my care and touching is a requirement, but I need to be sure I don't take advantage of the situation. Also, it'll be totally awkward if he knows I gay so I gotta watch myself with that, at least for the time being I'll need a low gay profile which might be dicey where Chis is concerned. When we get to the dining hall I swiped both of our dining hall cards at the desk and in we go. Mostly only freshman are on campus at the moment so it isn't very crowded. Great looking buffet style food set up and it's smelling real good too. Joey says, "Yum". He asks me to get him whatever I get for myself so I settle him at a table and pile some food on a tray: boneless fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet cut corn, sweet potato soufflé, and a mixed salad with Russian dressing. Two of everything plus two glasses of iced tea and a straw for Joey's glass.

Setting everything on the table it occurs to me I'll need to feed him, duh! I ask if he minds me using the same fork for both of us. He's no germ freak and doesn't mind if I don't, it'll made it simpler feeding both of us if I don't need to switch forks for every other bite. A mouthful for me, and while I'm chewing, I feed Joey a mouthful. Thank God he chews with his mouth closed, that's one of my pet peeves. Guys that chew with their mouth open making all those revolting mouth sounds drives me batty, and he chews with his mouth closed. We're just two highly cultured boys, using the same fork, eating our dinner. I feel the stares from other kids, but Joey's used to it by now and I'm sure I'll get used to it pretty soon as well.

Everything's damn tasty and we eat everything on our plates with almost no talking, just smiles and a few quite burps and one embarrassingly noisy fart from Joey. He goes, "Goddamn, I'm sorry Oliver, but I can't control that." I mutter, "Don't worry about it. Fuck the rest of the diners if they can't take a joke." Then I point at Joey exaggerating pinching my nose so nobody will think it was me who farted in dining hall #3. Joey laughs, although I don't notice anyone else laughing and that, makes me laugh shaking my head. Hell, we don't know any of these people. We enjoy our dinner which bodes well for future meals. I've heard stories about bad food in college dining halls, but this seems like the exception. We're both too full to try the desserts, so I push Joey's wheelchair back to the room. Outside our dorm Joey asks, "Can I bum a cigarette off you, Oliver? I'll buy some tomorrow and pay you back. I mumble, "Sure thing, Joey," and we both smoke a cigarette with me sitting on a bench outside the dorm sneaking peeks at Joey as I'm holding his cigarette to his lips. I'm already kind of attached to him and being responsible for him probably has something to do with that. I've always been kind of a responsible teenager, but it's also Joey, he's very likable as I said earlier. He's hot too, so that don't hurt. Leaning over I rub his hair again, nice hair, and he grins at me. Damn!

Almost done our cigarettes, I ask about a bath and Joey says he'd been trying to work-up the nerve to ask me to help him with one. He hasn't had a bath in three days. "Well Joey, tonight's your lucky night; one bath coming up." In a serious manner, he tells me this already has been his lucky day because I'm his roommate. Sweet! I smile rubbing his hair again. Getting ready to go inside I see a familiar Mini Cooper convertible coming down the street and I know who the height-challenged driver is too. I really want to talk to him so I wave and whistled and the driver looks over once, then does a double take and pulls over to the curb about twenty yards down from me. I shout, "Davis, how ya doing, dude? I'll be right over." He waves back and then gives me the finger. Laughing, I push Joey into our room telling him I'd only be a minute. He wants to sit at his desk so he can go on line and check his emails. I get him situated and then run out to talk with Davis Moore, who was Cristobal's roommate from last year, and maybe this year too for all I know. I'd emailed Cristobal a number of times, but they all came back as 'Undeliverable'. Anxious for news of Cristobal, but first Davis and I do the handshake, one arm hug thing as Davis goes, "Oliver, great to see ya again, How's the ankle?" I go, "Well, I sprained the ankle six months ago and it's been fine for the last five months and three weeks. How many new tattoos did ya get over the summer?" Davis has more tattoos on his five foot, three inch body body than makes sense, but there it is. We do some small talk, and then I ask, "You rooming with Cristobal again?" Davis has a concerned expression on his face, asking, "Didn't Cristobal get in touch with you the entire summer?" I shrug, shaking my head. Davis explains that Cristobal is taking a year off to attend an art institute in France. He adds, "Yeah, he fell love with, with um, Paris. He'd hesitated before saying, 'Paris'. Obviously he was going to say, 'A boy in France', or something like that, but he didn't want to hurt my feelings, so he changed it.

I mutter, "Oh..., um, jeez. I'm kinda disappointed. Ya know, because, ah, you know, the last thing Cristobal said to me was, 'Don't forget me, Oliver'. I sure didn't forget him, but I guess he forgot me ." Davis squeezes my arm, saying, "I can't lie to you, Oliver, there's someone he fell for there. Cris has too many boyfriends for his own good. Don't take it personally and, hell, you probably have to beat the cute guys off with a stick. If I were gay I'd be on your doorstep right now." Davis couldn't have been nicer, but damn, I feel my eyes stinging. I hate that I do the wet eye thing so easily. I do my fake cough wiping my eyes with my forearm and sort of turn my head doing another fake cough. Davis saw me with the tears though, and mutters, "Damn that Cristobal. He emailed me in July that he'd fallen for this art student in Paris and he'd dropped out of the tour to be with the guy. He promised me he'd send you an email explaining he wouldn't be here this semester. You know, Oliver, Chris is a great friend, but he falls in and out of love every month. You deserve someone more dependable. Hell, he screwed me too because I had to scramble around for another roommate." I've heard enough, I don't need anymore explanation, I just want to drop it. Even so, I find myself babbling to Davis, "Cristobal and me sang together on Mall Street, do you remember, Davis? Cris said he got more money in his hat when we sang together than he'd ever gotten alone. I was hoping we'd do the singing again. Hell, I memorized the words to a couple of the songs Cris sang last spring. The last thing he said to me that last morning we had together was he hoped I wouldn't forget him, but I already told you that, didn't I? " Davis looks uncomfortable, but he's very nice and just mumbles, "I think ya did, yeah. Cristobal is the original free-spirit, Oliver. He doesn't realize he hurts people as he goes through his privileged life, but he actually doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He just doesn't think things through all the time. Don't think too badly of him. He means the things he says when he says them, and then someone new comes along. I know he thought you and he had a very special time together. He told me that. He was very taken with you, he really was" I'm doing a little pouting, surprised I'm so beat up about this. I shrug, muttering, "The key word is 'was; he was very taken with me. Great to see ya, Davis. I gotta go 'cause I'm taking care of that kid in the wheelchair you saw me with back there." He pats my back and we tell each other we'll get together soon and have a beer. Maybe we actually will get together, but I doubt it. Davis is totally straight and whenever I see him I'll be reminded of Cristobal and my first real love, or at least what I thought was real love at the time. Davis drives his Mini Cooper away with a wave. His Mini's the reason I got my Mini and I should have told Davis that. Walking slowly back to the dorm thinking, 'Okay, obviously no Cristobal in my life now, my first sexual lover has officially dumped me. Then I remember all over again how sure I'd been that I was in love with him, and maybe I was too.' Then, fuck it. God damn him, this was something I've been dreaming about for almost six months, recreating Cristobal and my night together in the bath with the wine that I couldn't stand, but pretended to like, and all the sex that followed, and him saying, don't forget me and the whole wonderful two days.

Shedding a few tears, then I think of Frankie and my eyes clear-up before I go in to start Joey's bath. My last thoughts of Cris are childish, but I have then just the same, 'Fuck you Cristobal and fuck that slut French fairy boyfriend of yours. I got a boyfriend too you know!' Then reality again and the truth is, damn, I'm feeling low and disappointed because I was really looking forward to seeing him again and all the other stuff too. Heading into my dorm, my hands in my pocket playing with myself a little, thinking about what might have been. Walking into Joey's and my room with my head down, Joey turns his head to look at me with a big smile on his face, and says, "Wait till I tell you this joke my friend just emailed me, Oliver," and then it's deja vu all over again because he tells me the same joke my swim team captain whispered in my ear trying to loosen me up for my valedictorian speech, and does that seems like a long time ago now. The joke is the one where the little boy's playing with himself in his bath holding his nuts. He asks his mother if these are his brains. She says, 'Not yet they're not'. Joey laughs and I try to laugh, but it doesn't come out right. Kind of a bizarre coincidence that joke reappearing in my life and I wonder about coincidences. "What's wrong Oliver. Your friend in the Mini give you bad news? He's wicked short, isn't he?" I shrug and mumble, "Yeah, but he's strong as an ox." Then pretending it's no big thing, I add, "He told me that someone I thought would be here this year isn't going to be. A little disappointing, that's all Joey. Let me tell you about that joke." And I tell him the story behind me hearing it before. Joey asks, "You were valedictorian of your high school?" I lighten up and go, "Of course, weren't you?" He laughs again, and I asks, "You want that bath, dude?" He does and I let myself get totally involved in bathing Joey. Frankly, it's fun, but more complicated than I anticipated.

After I take off his zippered shirt and pulled down his cutoffs, Joey tells me how to disengage the rods connecting his forearm casts to the chest apparatus, and then that apparatus comes totally off his shoulders. He take this opportunity to exercise his shoulder joints by moving both arms slowly in circles for about thirty seconds, and then he loosely clasped his hands together on his stomach so he'd move his elbow joints as little as possible during the bath. All he has on are his boxer shorts. After his rotating arms exercise I put a covering of water proof plastic material on each cast, including the one on his leg. All three waterproof covers have tight elastic on both ends to prevent any water from getting inside. Joey's very conscientious about doing whatever the doctors tell him will help his elbow joints to heal properly. He's determined to be a gymnast again, and I have a feeling Joey's conscientious about everything. I'd had the water running in the tub right for ten minutes and it's more than half way full now, nice and hot. With a little trepidation I pull down his boxers while steadying him with an arm around his waist. Naked now, I can see he's got a great set of nuts and a long pretty penis swinging slightly when he straightens up. I stare at his package for just a second. Joey's apparently not self conscious about being naked in front of strangers. For over a month his body had been under other people's control and that's just the reality of it, so I guess he's just going with the flow. What choice does he have. In my head I take note of his very dark pubic patch and fantasize buzzing them like Pete did. Other than that, it's just a continuation of an extraordinary body. I can't help wondering how that olive toned skin of his penis would taste. Then I sort of wake-up and notice how his boxers have been partially masking a strongish body odor from the crotch area but actually, considering it's been three days since his last bath, he doesn't smell all that bad. His body's a smooth tight wire as I hold him while helping Joey get in the tub. His body feels sexy and looks sexy, toned and fit and one hundred percent boy. I purposely put the side of my face against his hard chest with his chin hitting the top of my head as I hold onto him as the leg with the cast is over the side of the tub. His whole body, everything together, is a beautiful example of the young male form at it's very best. I can't touch enough of him to suit me and he doesn't seem to mind at all. Again, he's probably used to it by now.

As he starts to slip I grab for his hip but get his right buttocks instead. Jesus, it's like a big, hard, tight muscle with no flab at all. I think to myself, 'He could crack walnuts between those ass cheeks of his'. Gulping and feeling a bit dizzy, I imagine my hard boner in between his smooth, hard, muscular buttocks. My cock actually becomes a boner as I help him get the other leg over the side of the tub. He gets both feet in the water, but I need to step inside with my damn sneaker on to keep him from slipping. With water up to my knee, I assist him sitting down, and he says, "Oh my God, this feels awesome, Oliver." I'm hoping he hasn't noticed my pants bulging out in the front as I stepped out of the tub backwards, awkwardly trying to keep my crotch away from him and I almost fall over doing that maneuver. Joey laughs his soft, good natured laugh, saying, "We'll probably get better at this with practice. Don't ya think, Oliver?" I mutter, "I sure hope so, and maybe next time I'll take my sneakers off first." Everything I say seems to make Joey either smile or laugh. This kid grows on you fast, let me tell ya. I have to smile back at him, he has the cutest, most innocent smile. It's remarkable that someone in his helpless condition, with the losses he's experienced, can demonstrate such a positive outlook. He hasn't said one thing about feeling sorry for himself and I know if it was me I'd be wicked pissed-off and mad at the world. When his bath sponge is loaded with gel I start by washing his neck and back, all the way down to those muscular buttocks. Scrub, scrub, scrub. I'm determined that he feel super clean with his skin tingling when I'm done. Scrubbing his chest, stomach, shoulders and the parts of his arms not encased in the cast; Joey makes quiet contented sounds as I do it. Then he lifts one arm at a time so I can scrub his armpits extra hard. His head lulls against mine at times and I let my lips slide across his forehead whenever I dare. His clean hair is soft and I rest my cheek on the top of his head from time to time and it becomes very sexy for me. None of this bodily contact appears to bother Joey.

It's such a hot experience for me; ya know, having this much personal bodily contact with a straight boy, and particularly a straight boy with a body like Joey Gallo. My boner's about to break off my body its so hard. I've my arm hugging around his neck to reach over and give his other side a good scrubbing. It's impossible not to touch his shoulders and his slippery upper body while washing all parts of his torso. Very sexy, to say the least. Man am I happy I checked off that space on my application. Nowhere on his body is he soft or flabby, skinny muscles everywhere my bare hand touches. Flawless, satiny skin except for those few acne bumps on his chin which I give special attention to. Just the feel of his breath on the side of my face is a turn-on. His breath's so fresh and clean smelling. It's dreamy after awhile and I begin more gentle swipes with the thickly lathered sponge as I let my mind wander to fantasize about Joey fucking me. I can just imagine those strong, thin, wiry arms and legs of his wrapped around me so tightly I can't move as he drives his long cock inside me. I envision his cock being somehow extra strong, like the rest of him, humping up my hole as he squeezes those absurdly tight ass cheeks with each deep penetration. Then, as I scrub the parts of his legs not in a cast, and with my boner dripping in my jockey shorts, I switched it around and fantasize my boner up inside his wiry body with those muscle buttocks of his squeezing my cock as if he actually is cracking walnuts, and me squealing in ecstasy as I shoot the load of my life up inside that tight, tight hole of Joey's. In my fantasy I hear someone moan quietly. When Joey asks, "What's wrong, Oliver?" I realized I was the one doing the low moaning and that I'd stopped bathing him, staring out in space taking short burst of air into my lungs. "Huh? What...oh, ha ha ha...sorry Joey, I almost fell asleep there. I'm a little bit wiped-out right now because I got up at four o'clock this morning and drove for over five hours to get here. It's been a long day for me, that's all."

Joey's apologetic, but I say, "It's not your fault, Joey. I'm good, dude," and go back to scrubbing his legs and what legs they are too. Perfect boy's legs just like I love to look at and dream of touching. I always think how I'd like to put the side of my face against legs like Joey's. Feel his leg against my cheek. I don't know why exactly, I just would love to do that, and lick his leg too. I don't do it of course, but I do rub my bare hand over the small amount of calf hair Joey has, that's all the hair he had on his legs. The rest of his legs are smooth and his calf muscles, when his leg's relaxed no less, is as hard as a rock, or as hard as my cock; pick one. It's all the gymnastics training of course and I'm so glad he's a gymnast.. haha. It's no surprise his feet are like everything else on this kid, perfectly formed, like a drawing in a high school health book. They're kind of small, but other than that just about perfect, no weirdly shaped toes or veins bulging or corns or anything. Holding his foot up out of the water I'm thinking how I wouldn't mind sticking it in my mouth and sucking his toes and lapping the nice arch and then sucking on the heel. That made me think of Frankie again, the only other boy I've ever had that foot fantasy about. Frankie's feet are pinkish and Joey's feet are an olive/tan, both of them with flawless skin and not a single hair. Oh, fuck! I'm tired now and getting punchy and even goofier than I usually am. The thing that surprises me the most though is these thoughts I'm having about a boy's body and how they seem to be intensifying now that I'm sexually active. I've been a boy watcher for a number of years, but experiencing some bodily contact has increased my interest in all things boys. It's sexy as hell and I'm enjoying this deepened awareness and appreciation of how special certain males are. Wishing I could include myself in that group, but I'm not very good at fooling myself and I'm not in Joey's or Frankie's class. At least not to me I'm not, but who knows who might think I am from their perspective. There a nice thought, or is it just a wild wish? Hmmm?

After scrubbing Joey's legs and feet, only his private parts are left to do. Going right at them with a ton of thick gel lathered on that sponge, I scrub his pubes, balls, and cock energetically, wrapping the sponge around his penis and pulling up the length of that pretty penis four times and it does get firmer each time I do it; Joey's grunting quietly in the background. Using my fingers covered in bath gel I clean under the foreskin and all around the head of his hardening cock. No protest from Joey, so I stick my finger inside the foreskin, hold his penis in my other hand, and wash the head of his cock again, rubbing down around the bottom of the head, and then all over it with the ball of my finger pulling open the pee slit slightly, as Joey gulps audibly. Then, turning my finger around I rub all around the inside of the skin. Glancing up at him, I see that Joey's has his eyes closed, puffing out his cheeks, continuing the quiet grunting, going "Umm, umm, ooh, ah, ah oooh". Then I pulled the fore skin back off the head and rinse it real good. Putting my arm around his neck to keep him from sliding down in the tub, Joey leans his head against mine real cosy like, as I force that sponge under him and in between his ass crack and scrub down there. Joey goes, "Ahh ahh, oh my god that feels awesome, Oliver. I have a rash there and the scrubbing is incredibly excellent. It's like scratching the biggest itch I've ever had" I mutter, "Okay, Joey, I'll get it real clean and then put on the ointment your mother told me about." He nods his head next to mine, against the side of my face, and I want to lick his forehead so badly, but I don't. He can't even speak because it's feeling so good having that rash finally taken care of; it left him speechless. After scrubbing his ass hole and in between his buttocks I throw the sponge in the hamper and pulled the tub's stopper to let the dirty water out. Attaching the hose with the shower nozzle head to the spigot, I rinse Joey's body thoroughly. Refilling the tub with clean water and getting a new sponge I apply the moisturizing cleaner his mother instructed me to use, and do his entire body again, gently this time. Again I put a lot of effort into getting his groin cleaner than clean, and then even more effort then that on his ass crack between those hard buttocks of his. Joey's clean, cleaner, cleanest. I cleaned his crack and his hole till you could eat off of it, which is what I'd like to do. "Mmmmmm", Joey croons, because he feels so good.

Everything's feeling good for Joey now and he closes his eyes again, making quiet humming sounds of pleasure. It's like when you're scratching an itch from hell, it feels so good it gets to that point of your scratching that approaches ecstasy. I let my finger slip off the sponge while running it up and down his crack and rub his hole with the tip and with the moisturizing lotion, it slips inside him a tiny bit and he tightened his sphincter muscle around the end of my finger. I feel precum drool into my shorts. Jeez, am I ever turned-on. While he lazily lulls his head with his eyes closed, a look of pleasure on his face, I stare at him thinking, "Damn, he's a very pretty boy. What could I have been thinking earlier; this assignment is awesome. The urge to kiss the side of his face is wicked strong, but my common sense and will power win out, but just barely. The second body wash is much quicker and in short order I'm done, but Joey asks if he can soak in the tub a bit. So I leave him soaking in the very warm water and go outside to have a cigarette and try to get my boner down.

Ten minutes later, back inside, I rinsed him off again with the shower nozzle as the tub water drains out for the last time tonight. When the water level's below his firm cock I see it's on the verge of being a boner. I ask, "How ya holding-up without taking care of your soldier there?" He groans and mumbles, "I'm dying, man. A few late night emissions, but there're small relief." I shake my head sympathizing with him. then say, "Dude, if I was in your position I'd be going crazy by now. There's a chance I pull on my pud more then I should." He's quiet as I get one of my big fluffy towels from home that my folks insisted I bring with me to college. It's just right for this job. Without looking at me, he says, "If you weren't so nice, I wouldn't mention this 'cause know it's weird, but Oliver, and don't think I'm gay, but, um, if you would just jerk that thing of mine a few times and give me some peace, I'll be forever in your debt. It's been so long since I had a nice climax, I won't bore you describing my agony." I act shocked, "Are you fucking out of your mind? Nineteen year olds do not wank each other's puds unless, of course, it's some kind of an emergency. Is this an emergency?" Joey does his light laugh again and said, "Why, yes it is. My pud needs emergency wanking, this is a fucking 911 wanking." I go, "Oh, that's a little different then. I'm not experienced in this at all as I've only jerked-off myself fifty thousand times, but I'll do the best I can for you."

Smiling, but blushing at the same time, Joey, mutters, "You're awesome.". I suppose I should be blushing too, but I can't work one up. Taking hold of his cock in my fist, I start a steady stoking dragging the foreskin over and off the head of his cock and right away Joey is moaning and sliding down in the slippery tub. I put my arm around his neck and hold his head against the side of my face to hold him up, and continued jerking him off. He maintains the same position with his arms, clasping his hands together on his stomach and doesn't resist having his head against mine at all; in fact, he nestled his head into the crook of my neck in a comfortable position with his lips brushing against me as he blows out short bursts of warm air. Could he be gay? And why am I assuming every boy I meet is gay? His boner quickly gets ridiculously hard; I'm talking metal pipe hard! The fore skin is still coming off the head of his cock as I stroked down, and then up on the wet glistening head when I stroke the foreskin up, but his boner has stretched so the foreskin can no longer cover the head. Over and over I stroke his excellent cock with Joey quietly going, "Ah Ah Ah". I really enjoy looking at that dark pink swollen cock head with the gaping pee slit as I slide the uncut skin on and off it. Precum drools out of his pee slit with each stroke. Wetting my lips with my tongue, I swallow noisily. I'm squeezing his hard boner tightly now as I stroke his cock; my own boner, inside my boxers, bumps against the outside of the tub as I knell beside it stroking Joey. He doesn't last long and it's a good thing too because I'm holding him around the neck with his head pressed against my cheek and I'm gonna cum in my pants any second now. He starts humping his hips and grunting and moaning and thrashing about, leaving a big saliva wet spot on my neck as he moans. His bouncing around could have resulted in him cracking one of his cast against the porcelain tub. Whoa, it's such a turn-on holding him against me so tightly, stroking his long sweet boner, and watching his reaction as his orgasm builds inside his nuts. Watching with fascination, I see the head of his now seven inch poker expand right before my eyes and then a magical foot long spurt of cum weakly slipped out his pee hole with Joey going, "Eeeee' and with the next stroke of his steel boner that first splash of cum is followed by a long, hard stream of cream that spatters up against the spigot. Joey screams "Eeeeeeeeee Ohhhh Ahhhhhhhh" as he fires four more shorter spurts. This was his first real climax in over a month. Just thinking about that causes more wetness in my own pants as my pre cum soaks into my underpants. I continue to stroke his cock until all the cum in his balls drools out of his big cock.

Joey can't talk. He's gulping and breathing hard. Finally he gasps, "Jesus, Oliver. How will I ever pay you back?" I go, "Hmmmm? We'll see, dude. We'll see. " He goes on and on enthusiastically about how awesome I am and how I managed to do this in a way that he didn't really feel too, too embarrassed or terribly awkward. I enjoy hearing the praise, and why not; I'm proud of myself for not wimping out about it in the first place. Struggling getting him out of the tub, I him sit on the lid of the toilet while I dry him off and then over to his bed still naked, because the next thing I need to do is put ointment on that chafed ass of his. After that I'll get clean boxers on him, but first I take a peek at my crotch to see if there are any tell-tale wet spots. No pre cum has leaked through my cargo shorts yet, so I look through his toiletries kit and find a baby diaper rash ointment labeled for Joey's rash. The same ointment the old nurses' aid never used. I get Joey laying on his back with his legs up while I put a lot of that white ointment on the inside of his hard buttock cheeks and all along his reddened crack. It's a nasty looking rash and Joey confirms it's painful at times, especially doing a dump. Ouch! At his anus I push some cream inside and my finger slips in up to the first joint as Joey makes a long hissing sound. Pulling slightly on his hole and pushing the cream up further, he lifts his buttocks up and moans. It must have been raw up there and the cool cream ointment is feeling so good, unless; no, it's just sore and now he's getting relief. I fingered him as long as I dare, without any complaints from Joey, which makes me have the passing thought again, 'Wouldn't it be awesome if Joey's gay?'. Naturally, with Joey in this position, his legs up and his hole pulsating, my cock's so hard again I need to look away and get a grip on myself. The thought of sliding my boner up between those muscular, hairless buttocks of Joey's comes over me again and I swear I feel faint. Blinking my eyes, I concentrate more on helping Joey and less on my horniness.

When I can't stretch out the ointment treatment any longer, I put clean boxers on Joey and he lays in his bed contentedly. He tells me he hasn't felt this good since the accident; not even close to this good and he sounds so sincere I believe him. Needing to wash my finger three times before the Desitin smell is history, but no matter, it's worth a stinky finger to put creme in, and on Joey's ass. He talks a little about his accident describing how hard it's been getting used to having everything done of him, but he's resigned to it now. After a bit he wants to mess around on-line so I get him set-up at his computer and go in to take a shower myself. In the bathroom I start the shower so the sound of the running water covers-up my jerking-off and any squeals I might make. I've been very turned-on for awhile and now I'm supernova hot. Sitting naked on the closed toilet lid with my legs straight out I fist my cock for ninety seconds before shooting off almost as much spunk as Joey shot off fifteen minutes ago. Holy shit! Tantalizing ripples spread out from my cock and balls and the relief is there, but the sexual part of climaxing with a partner, is not. I think the squealing sound I'd just heard came from me though; shooting off felt good. This wasn't for pleasure so much as it had seemed a necessity; taking care of Joey got be sizzling hot. All that handling of Joey's body had me so horny I barely was able to get him settled without dropping a load in my drawers; one or two more procedures on that boy's body and I'd be cuming in my jeans. Then this wack-off in the bathroom while thinking about taking care of his naked body and it felt pretty good. Damn, this nursing deal ain't all that bad. Of course, Joey is a real turn-on which makes it all the more special. If he was some fatso goofy-looking nerd it probably wouldn't be fun at all. I need to sit on the toilet seat for a minute after climaxing before I have the strength to get in the shower. Long day and plenty of excitement; and I am beat.

As the shower water pours down on me I realized just how tired I am; exhausted, actually. The shower's fantastic and afterwards as I brush my teeth I remind myself to brush Joey's for him, which I do right after I finished with mine. Then we get in our separate beds for some much needed sleep. Joey doesn't need to wear the shoulder contraption with the rods while sleeping on his back. I make sure he's comfortable before getting in my own bed. Even though it's fairly early we say good night and the next thing I know the sun's shining through our window. Joey's laying in bed looking over at me. I'm surprised to see it's almost nine o'clock. WOW, what a fabulous night's sleep and I feel much better. Joey looks just as good to me this morning as he did last night. We mutter good morning, and then I go in to do my bathroom stuff first, actually look forward to taking care of Joey again. I could have awakened and thought, 'This is simply too much trouble', but I don't feel that way at all. Probably the novelty will wear off in time, but for now this is a blast. As soon as I'm done with the bathroom I take Joey in there for his morning activities. Brush his teeth for him again, then help him get on the toilet and hold his dick for him while he pees. He also does a poop so I wiped his ass afterwards without thinking too much about it. He mutters, "Thanks, Oliver," as I use a washcloth to wash his hands and face, and then take him back to his bed, laying on his stomach this time. According to Mrs Gallo's computer print-out sheet, bed sores on his back and the back of his thighs need ointment. This ointment is a prescription drug with steroids to promote healing. Also in the instructions, massage the shoulders where the apparatus chafes all day long. There's a moisturizer for that. These last few nursing chores are the last ones on the nursing list. These, along with the evening ones I did with Joey last night, and feeding him, constitute my total care-giving responsibilities and would normally all be done in the evening, but I was too tired to finish them last night. Looking at the list I think to myself, 'I can handle this'. The rest is just making sure he gets to where he needs to be on time.

As I worked with Joey I'm reminded of Daddy/Glen and his constant demands for me to be 'docile'. Hell, Joey's the most docile boy anyone could ever imagine. That's probably because Joey, for the past month, has been forced to surrender his body to whichever care giver is working on him. It's cool though that he rolls this way or that, whatever I want, with his arms and legs limp. He didn't give a thought to me moving his nuts from one side to the other in cleaning and so forth. Joey's the rag doll I had tried to be for Daddy. Actually, that's pretty close. I've never played with dolls so I have zero experience in that, but now I find myself with a real live boy-doll to play with and I'm a fucking natural at it. Plus, like I've said any number of times, it's actually fun. Joey lays on his stomach, as I said, and I rub in the ointment on several very red spots on his back, then pull his boxers down to his knees and put the salve on three more spots high up on his thigh. Joey made a cooing sound when I first put the ointment on as the creme soothes the rough sores. He never complains, but these sore must hurt. After the creme I massage in an oily creme that's also a prescription drug. Massaging it into his skin from his shoulders all down his back and then, even though there was no mention of his legs, down his thighs to the back of his knees. This creme is white, but it's quickly absorbed without a trace. The instructions hadn't said anything about massaging his ass with the cream, but I assumed that's just an oversight. I massaged his ass for three or four minutes. Neither of us says anything, but every minute or so Joey makes a quiet moaning sound of pleasure. Needless to say my boner pokes my boxer shorts straight out again, but fortunately Joey's on his stomach with his eyes closed and misses my bobbing pole. The last thing I needed to apply is the Desitin creme. That stuff needs to be applied inside his crack and up his hole again. I can see right away that last night's treatment has already noticeably reduced the redness of the rash, so this nursing chore might not be necessary a few days from now. My index finger, covered with the white creme, pressed against his anus and then slides in his hole, this time up to the second joint. Joey's so relaxed and loose he offered no resistance and I more or less finger fucked him for a minute or more. I notice him lifting his crotch off the bed somewhat; probably boner related. When I don't dare finger his hole any longer I run my finger from the top of his crack to the bottom near his nuts, three or four times with my fingers slippery with more of the Desitin. He does a long quiet moan wiggling his crotch against the bed sheets.

"Oh, fuck, Oliver. You're the best, dude. I haven't felt so, um, so free of discomfort since the accident. All my itches and scratches and burns are all fixed by you." He chuckles and adds, "Come to think of it, I never felt this good before the accident either." Then a soft laugh. I say, "Hey, Joey, glad to hear it, man. Now we'll get you turned over and I'll put some of this lotion on your chest and the front of your shoulders." He said, "Oh no! No way! I won't be turning over for a while, Oliver. Go have a cigarette or something." I chuckle, "Oh, I get it, Joey. Yeah, sorry bout that," and I just have to laugh out loud because we both have wicked boners. He's willing to admit his, but I'm hiding mine. I pat his bare ass a few times, just because I feel like it, and say, "Well, would you like your friend squeezed again?" He gives a half hearted protest saying he couldn't keep asking me to do that, but soon enough he gives in. Getting jerked-off simply feels too good to pass-up, especially if your snake has been stroked a total of once in the past month, are you kidding me? I tell him I need to take a pee and then I'd spank that naughty boner of his. He goes, "Thanks, Oliver," but the words catch in his throat as he nervously does what I now recognize as his phony laugh whenever he feels embarrassed. What I need to do is put on a big T-shirt and then secure the head of my boner under my boxer's waistband. I want to hide my boner because I'm far from ready to have Joey realize how much all this turns me on. He'd probably realize I was gay fairly soon anyway; hell, I haven't exactly kept it a secret on campus. But, I don't want him to know just yet. Soon, but not right now. Guess I'm just working up the courage to tell him. I want us to be more comfortable with each other before I tell him; you know, so he has a chance to realize that there's more to me than me just being gay.

When I had my own boner under wraps I get Joey turned over. As usual he keeps his hands clasped as low on his stomach as the casts on his elbows will allow, which is almost as far down as his belly button. His seven inch boner is sticking straight up. "This is pretty embarrassing, Oliver. I'm use to being man handled, but this is a brand new kind of manhandling, if ya know what I mean." Then he laughs nervously again, and adds a mumbled, "But nice, um, very nice of you. I'm not complaining!" He's having a little trouble talking. I go, "Shhhhh, just relax," as I massaged the oily creme into the front of his shoulders, then some on his chest and stomach. Avoiding his crotch for the moment, I start massaging his feet and then up his legs slowly, all the way up his skinny, but powerful legs till they connect at his groin. His boner swells and precum drools down the shaft, as Joey moans, "Ohhh my god, that massage feels good". I'm quietly grunting with each quick intakes of oxygen myself by now, wiping a lot of the slippery gel on his nuts and then down near his hole, which I'd covered with Desitin earlier. Finally my slippery hand grabbed around his boned penis and up and down his long shaft with the head of his cock showing itself when I stroked down and then retreats back into it's skin shell when I stroke up. Over and over with both our cocks, mine against my stomach and his encased by, and drooling over my hand as our cocks drip, drip, drip pre cum. As I've mentioned, I like looking at the head of his swollen cock as the pee slit expands when pre cum drools out of it. Joey generates more pre cum than any boy I've ever encountered. His cock head glistens with it. He's openly moaning now and the makes the hissing sound from sucking air in between his lips as he rolls his head from side to side on the pillow, and then, "Ah ah ah ah" with each tight, relentless long stroke I do on his hard, hard boner.

He holds out longer than last night, but not much. Arching his back, grunting twice and then gasping as he sends another long string of white creamy boy cum over his feet to splat on the old hard wood floor. The second and third shots land on his leg down by the calf and some on his thigh. Joey, breathing hard, mutters, "Will you marry me, Oliver?" and we both laugh harder then that remark deserved. My stomach is wet with my own pre cum and I'm right on the edge of spontaneously climaxing. Shortly he's breathing normally again so I say, "Be right back" and I go quickly into the bathroom for a fast couple of strokes on my boner using the same hand that has Joey's pre cum and creamy spunk on it and I fire off another hot shot of cum so hard it made me see stars. Sitting down on the edge of the tub I take short breaths until my heartbeat's almost back to normal. Holy shit! Is this ever hot! After getting us both cleaned-up and dressed we go for breakfast. Neither of us mentions my rush to the bathroom or Joey's jerk-off, instead we're quiet with our own thoughts as I push his wheelchair to the dining hall. Later, while I'm wiping some grape jelly off Joey's chin, a thought explodes in my head: 'Hey, this is Darleen and Frankie all over again. I'm playing the Darleen part and Joey's playing Frankie's part. The care I'm providing Joey has to be very similar to the way it was when Darleen nursed Frankie that year following his accident. Another bizarre coincidence in my life and I wonder what it all means? Of course Frankie was very capable of jerking himself off so that's different. But, I bet the rest is pretty much the way it went with those two.

Frankie and I have never discussed the specifics of the nursing Darleen provided, it's just that it was humiliating to Frankie in the beginning, but he eventually felt comfortable only with Darleen. Weird stuff. Joey already seems real comfortable with me, but he's been doing this for a month already with one care-giver or another. As I'm feeding Joey a fork-full of scrambled egg I glance at his face and discover he's staring at me intently with those big dark blue eyes of his; staring at me like maybe I really am his hero. When he see me look at him he smiles at me sweetly. It's a very nice feeling having someone think you're their hero. At the same time it also occurs to me that being someone's hero is a hell of a big responsibility too.

After breakfast we attend a couple of morning orientation meetings. In between them we chat casually about sports and music and try to make a few friends along the way too. Then, for laughs, we whisper insulting comments to each other about other freshman who aren't as cool as we think we are. We do manage to meet a couple of other guys and girls that we both feel meet our standard for acquaintances... haha. They're all real interested in Joey's accident and the fact that I'm his care-giver. Everyone acts amazed at that, but l'm not sure if they're amazed I can do it or amazed that I'm willing to do it. The extent of hygiene care Joey requires should be apparent to all. I don't mind, I want to make friends for sure, but I'm very much aware that I didn't have a good history of success in that department during my high school years, and I'm still not sure why. In any case, I've decided to concentrate on what's most important at the moment: taking care of Joey. I'll let friendships develop naturally without me making a conscious effort to force the process because I may have tried too hard in High School. Just let it happen is my new philosophy. During the first orientation meeting I paid attention, but soon realize Joey's conscientiously typing notes from the meeting into his lap top. After that, instead of paying attention, I daydream throughout the remainder of both meetings. I'll read Joey's notes later.

I'm daydreaming about the way unexpected situations seem to happen in my life, like Cristobal's absence, and realize how much I'd been looking forward to continuing our relationship. I'd built-up my first sexual experience to a significant degree and Cristobal had become a huge turn-on for me. All summer I thought about Cris, like the time he danced with me that first night, and how he kissed me a little later. Both were first tome experiences. And of course, I had my first real gay sex with him. Cris was so experienced it hardly hurt at all, even the first time. That sexy feeling of another boy's penis inside me was awesome, especially after I'd fantasized about it for all those years; a memory I'll never forget. I expected him to do me again all my freshman year, but he's not going too and I'm realizing the full extent of how much I want to do it again with him; it hurts. I'm pissed off at Cristobal for leading me on in my innocence. He took advantages of me. Then, daydreaming about the brothers weekend I had with Christian I'm wondering if he took advantage of me too. If he did I'm positive it wasn't planned; it just developed on it's own with help of alcohol. I realize another thing too that sort of surprises me; I've no desire for another sexy time with my brother. It was special special at the time, but mostly I think it was something I did for him because of all the wonderful things he's done for me. And then there's Alexander who I do have the urge to have sex with again. Fucking him earlier this summer was another first time experience and quite a hot one too. Well, except when he acted feminine, which was only rarely. I get a hard boner thinking about his beautiful light brown skin, the sexy smell of him, and that handsome face and that great, dense hair of his. It's hot grabbing fistfuls of his hair when pile driving his tight hole.

During the second orientation meeting I think about Frankie and the summer we had together, and his beautifully cute face, and our spit swapping make-outs, and the couple of times I sucked his perfect cock, and him fucking me in his garage full of junk. Smiling to myself I think of his wise-cracking personality, but mostly I go back to daydream about the two times he fucked me. Oh my God, I really long for more Frankie. We'd laugh so hard we couldn't catch our breath and then there were the serious talks we had too. I can almost smell Frankie's scent; his sexy natural scent. I love running my fingers through his bright red burr haircut; his silky hair on his perfectly shaped head. I could eat him and it's fun thinking about licking his pinkish smooth body from his feet all the way up to his red hair. Loved sucking on his nuts and rubbing his closely cut pubes and watching his big cock get hard, then lapping and sucking it. And then there's Myers and the shy, super-hot mailroom boy, Pete too. These memories suddenly make me feel lonely because I don't actually know anyone here. I mean I know Davis' name, but I don't know him. I was depending on Cristobal to show me around and introduce me to his friends. It's obvious that I'd been depending too much on Cristobal. And, now that I know he's not going to be here, I'm starting to wonder why I ever thought college was going to be any different than high school. I'll just be an outcast from a larger number of smarter kids here at college. Except there's Joey, and what a stroke of good luck he's turning out to be. So I do have a friend here and I'll make others too. And I'll be hooking up with Alexander once in a while; Frankie too, so what's my problem? I can't allow all this daydreaming to get me depressed; that's the old Oliver who searches out depression, not the new adventurous Oliver. Hell, none of the other freshman in these orientation meeting know anyone here either; it's not just me. I do too much daydreaming. Instead of that I glance at Joey and damn he's hot.' I'll concentrate on that thought. After the second orientation meeting Joey and me go to lunch. Joey's describing the hot chick who sat across from him, something about her body. I just nod my head like I know what he's talking about. Two blocks away from the dining hall, I see two guys jogging towards us. One of the guys points at Joey and me saying something to his friend; they're amazingly light on their feet and it's fun watching them run. I roll the wheelchair to one side of the brick sidewalk to let them pass by, but they pull up on front of us, not even breathing hard from the run, and asks Joey, "Are you Joey Gallo?" Joey nods his head and the jogger introduces himself and his friend as members of the gymnastic team. They're supposed to hook-up with Joey for lunch. The orientation meeting finished earlier than expected so they got there late. Both guys are juniors, on campus early representing the team greeting freshman gymnast. Joey introduces me and the gymnast invite me to join them for lunch at a place called Smokey Joe's. After lunch they'd take Joey off my hands so he can meet other members of the gymnastics team. I feel like a fifth wheel, but can't think of a way to decline their invitation without offending them.

Both gymnasts are short, about five feet, five inches at most, but obviously fit. Fantastic bodies on these two and they don't walk so much as they sorta glide along. One of the two is very cute, but the other is not. The cute one's name is Randy Rider and the goofy looking one is Bob Crane. They're both kinda funny and likable. They're being nice to Joey because he's a new teammate, but they're nice to me too. The cute Randy puts his arm loosely on my shoulder as we walk side by side to this bar/restaurant. Goofy pushes Joey's wheelchair ahead of us. They're both quite confident and why shouldn't they be since they've been at college for two years already. Everything they say seems to be tongue in cheek, silly, or just plain outrageous. Joey and I laugh easily because the juniors put us at ease and treat us like equals. Being a part of this foresome made me feel like I'm part of a clique in that I'm a University of Pennsylvania college student, and most everybody else in the world isn't..

The not-cute one, Bob Crane, has the fabulous body alright, but an unfortunate face and bad hair to go along with the hot bod. He's cursed with early male baldness with a receding hairline and a small bald circle at the crown of his head. His temporary remaining hair is whimpy, straw-colored and cut short. His dull brown eyes are small and too close together as they peer out under a straight line of thick eyebrows above a too long nose. It's fortunate for him that he's smart and good at gymnastics or he might be headed to the 'loser' bin. Also he's very quick with funny asides and seemingly a good guy. The other gymnast, Randy, is quite a different story. He's funny and very bright also, but oh so very cute as well. Randy's hair is cut short too for my taste, but it's that type of luxurious two-tone blond hair that's thick and even though it's short it has a slight curl and I wouldn't mind running my fingers through it even though it's shorter than Frankie's. Not only does Randy have perfect hair and a perfect body, he's also model beautiful as well as cute. To be honest, Joey and me are cute, but Randy is up a few notches on us. He's up there with Frankie on a much higher plateau of cuteness. He has the kind of face I like to stare at because the more you look at it the more you realize how special it is, and all boy as well. This will not surprise you, but my dick's moving around in my boxers and I need to concentrate to keep from wetting my lips, and my pants. I consider Randy a little unexpected temporary gift for me to ogle. Everything wrong about Bob's face is just right with Randy's. He's another one of those boys with that special peaches & cream complexion that always looks clean and lickable. Fine light eyebrows over very bright brown eyes that appeared to change shades of brown as I look him in his eyes as he talks. Nice perky nose with a dozen small, light colored freckles across the bridge and very cute cheekbone structure that give him the appearance of grinning all the time. His chin's just right too with no cleft. Natural pink, bowed lips and awesome dimples when he smiled. His smile also shows off his very white teeth and a slight separation between the front ones. The perfect imperfection, if you know what I mean. Like I said, he's eatable. Yep, he takes my breath away and he's walking next to me with his arm casually on my shoulder looking me in the eyes when he talks. At one point he asks me if I'm alright because my breath's coming out in short snorts. He has a smirk on that wonderful face of his when he asks me that; I think it was a smirk. I mumble, "I'm fine, thank you," and he continues telling me how I'm going to need a really good fake ID to have any prayer of getting served in bars around the campus. He goes, "In case you're not aware of it, Oliver, fake IDs are exactly like real IDs except they're fake." I mutter, "Huh," and he adds, "Yep, they're usually produced by a frat dude entrepreneur, one who has mastered the mysterious art of laminating. The safest bet is an ID without a hologram, which means choosing IDs from states that don't know what holograms are: like Alabama, Arkansas, and Mississippi." I finally blurt out a laugh, but he pretends to be serious telling me I can find out about all kinds of shit like that in the College Humor Guide. I don't know if there's such a thing or not. With Randy it's hard to tell.

His tight body rubbing against mine every step we take is definitely getting to be boner time for me, but we arrive at the bar just before I spring one. I slide into the inside seat of the first empty booth we come to, adjusting my semi-hard pecker as I slide, and Randy slides in tight beside me as I take a deep breath wondering if he's gay. The beginnings of a boner always feels good and so does Randy. He looks over at me, then inexplicably pinches my ear lobe and holds it, proclaiming, "No piercings?" I'm like, "Huh? Oh, that is, um, no. None." But, by then he's calling out to another kid he knows who's sitting at the bar. I don't understand their exchange, but they both laugh; college lingo probably. Smokey Joe's is a cool bar full of college students and other young kids pretending to be college students. For lunch Bob feeds Joey clam chowder that came in a hollowed out round loaf of bread. I have a Philly cheese steak, which I fed to myself while bumping elbows with Randy. Both Randy and Bob have big cheesbergers with french fries and fried onion rings. Big lunch for guys that size. They said soon they'd have to watch their diets, but they liked to binge when they can. The food's okay, not great. We have a pitcher of beer with our meal although actually I'd rather have a coke, but I drink the beer and listen to Randy give us advise about college. He tells us that as freshman, the first weeks of college present us with our only shot at hooking up with people who are ridiculously out of our league status wise. He claims it's because the social strata has yet to be established, and once it's established losers like Joey and me won't have a chance with the in crowd. Where have I heard that before? Randy gives us an example, "Let's say early in the first week Oliver here is chatting-up this hot chick and by some miracle he manages not to say anything blatantly racist or incredibly stupid, she's a freshman too and will probably think to herself, "No way would I consider talking to this loser ordinarily, but this ain't high school so maybe stuttering is cool at college, I really don't know. I better go out with him just in case it is."

The things Randy says are mildly amusing in themselves, but he presents them in a very funny way and Joey and I get to laughing pretty good. I love that Randy used my name in his example and that he sort of included Joey and me in on the joke. Plus, he squeezed the back of my neck to show me he's only teasing about us being losers. He follows up the squeeze by rubbing up the back of my head and then ruffling the hair on the top of my head, as he says to Bob, "Freshman are so cute; ya just gotta love em." I'm all jittery and then I think to myself, 'Was I stuttering again?' I hadn't realized it. I do my fake cough glancing at hot Randy who looks back at me with a killer grin, and with a mysterious expression doing something with his eyes. Another fake cough from me and, for some reason, I'm blushing. Bob's telling us about his first roommate, who informed him, "FYI, dude, but I'll be occasionally smoking pot in our room". Bob said to his roommate, "That's so weird, dude, because I occasionally tell on people." Bob and Randy think that's a riot. Then Randy says he was worried about his first roommate when the kid suggested, "How about we push these dorm beds together and make a big king size bed?" This made all of us laugh. By now Joey and I laugh at anything these two say. They just seem very cool to us. At one point Randy's giving Joey and me tips on how we can be cool at college too. Randy goes, "No truly cool person speaks loudly. You need to speak real low in conversations, and always act bored. Say a few, small words, but every once in a while drop in a really big one just to prove you can, but you're too cool to bother. See?" For example; some one says to you, "Hey," and you mutter, "Sup?" and they say, "I like your T shirt." You say "Sup?" again and it goes like that for a bit and then somewhere along the way you drop in one of the big word's you've memorize." Bob and Randy are having fun and I don't get it all, but I'm now playing with myself under the table because Randy's pressing the side of his thigh against the side of mine. As we're finishing the pitcher of beer, Joey asks me, "Ya want to come with us to meet some of the other gymnast, Oliver?" I say, "Sup?" making Randy laugh and do the back of my neck squeeze and hair rub again. My boner is full and hard by now. I squeak out, "Can we get something for desert?"

We all get chocolate ice cream sundaes because Bob informs us it goes best with draft beer, which is puzzling. I take my time eating mine hoping my boner will go down. Not wanting to leech on to the gymnast, I mention to Joey I need to email my folks and do some other stuff, and I'd catch-up with him later. After lunch all of us go back in the same direction we came and on the way Randy explains to me about the difficult training program necessary for gymnastics at their level. He claims it creates full body muscle development and he pats my ass emphasizing that this part of the body needs exercising too. I'm wearing flimsy nylon-like basketball shorts and Randy, after patting my almost bare ass, grabs my left buttocks and pushes some of the material of my shorts up my hole using his middle finger, telling me, "Yeah, even this muscle gets worked on for gymnastics and both buttocks get very muscular and hard", making me think of Joey's buttocks. He adds, "Now Oliver, your ass is firm, but not hard like a gymnast ass," as he's pushing the material of my shorts further up my asshole until I'm walking up on my toes going, "Ugh...oh oh...Ah ah ". I hold onto his arm to keep my balance as he chuckles and massages my ass cheek, saying in his normal speaking voice, "Here, feel the difference," and he lets go of my ass, taking my hand and presses it against his ass. His ass feels just like Joey's. We're walking behind Bob who's again pushing Joey in the wheelchair, so all this ass grabbing goes undetected by them. I'm still up on my toes clutching Randy with one hand and pulling at the back of my nylon shorts with the other. My efforts to pull the material out of my hole is not immediately successful, but I do spring another boner. After a few steps, Randy points at the buldge in the front of my shorts and lightly touches the head of my cock through the thin material, muttering, "Get a grip, dude. Jeez, I won't be able to show you insightful things about gymnastics if ya keep popping boners on me." Than he hugs me around my waist, saying with a grin, "I'm just breaking your balls, Oliver, 'cause I like ya. Don't get all flustered on me." I managed to smile back and gulp while trying to say, "Sup", but I'm betting Randy's gay.

He calls up to Bob, "You'll never guess what happened to Oliver". Bob doesn't even look back when he says, "Let me guess. He's the victim of the infamous "Randy Rider Wedgie" and he can't get his underwear out of his asshole". Randy said, "You're not as much fun as you use to be, Bob". Maybe he's not gay after all. And then we're at the point where they go left and I go right. We all say goodbye and two minutes later Randy jogs back to me and asks, "You're okay, right, Oliver?" I say, "Um, yeah, I'm fine," and looking me right the eyes Randy says, "We've got to hook up soon, dude!" Then he's gone and I stand here watching him glide away, again thinking he's gay. When he's out of view I slowly walked away not really sure what was going on, but my boner's back. Randy's one of the confident ones and I'm attracted to his type, but what attracted him to me? And, is he gay or, like he said, just busting my balls. What I don't need is another conundrum confusing my life, like with Frankie most of the time. It's not unheard of for a gymnast to be gay of course and the thought Randy's gay and interested in me has me hustling back to the room for an emergency afternoon jerk off. In the bathroom I do it thinking about Randy and a little about Joey too. Damn, do I ever explode with cum. A burning climax as spunk streaks from my pee slit. Then I worry that Randy was making fun of me and I'm just too stupid to realize it. Later, after emailing my parents, Alexander, and Frankie, I pick-up Joey at the gymnasium and while pushing his wheelchair back to our room ask what he thinks of Randy. He thinks he's cool, but doesn't mention anything about Randy maybe being gay and there's no way I can bring it up, so it's unclear. I lay on my bed and fantasized about Randy and Joey being gay and what a threesome we would make once Joey's bones have healed. The two tight and toned gymnast do the skinny and very willing Oliver Nickerson. God damnit, I popped another boner already.

I get my iPod out and listen to The Killers CD. I absolutely love "Can you read my mind?"and I memorized every word hoping to sing it with Cristobal on Mall Road. Fuck that! Checking my email I see one from Mom & Dad, one from Alexander, two from the twins and one from Frankie. Now I'll finally find out something, maybe.

to be continued...

Chapter 13 (The Roommate 2)

Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo, com

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