OLIVER'S ADVENTURES
Chapter 17 (More Joey and Randy)
by Donny Mumford
Joey asking me to join him in his bath is an unexpected request, so for fun I exaggerated how astonished I am by slowly asking, "You want a self-proclaimed gay boy in the bathtub with you? You're not drunk are you?" He laughs, "If the gay boy in question is my slave then it's okay by me , drunk or not." My reply is, "Oh, yes master, of course". The drunk comment refers to Joey's bath after the gymnast's party when I shared the tub with him from necessity. He was drunk that night and there was a chance he'd slide over and further injure one of his elbows, banging it against the tub or something, so I was in there to steady him. Anyway, like most things with Joey, all of this is done with light banter so asking me to join him in the tub doesn't necessarily mean anything. He may have even suggested it as a favor to me; that would be just like Joey. He knows I'm gay and that I get aroused touching and taking care of him, he's seen my many boners as proof of that. He's also very grateful for all my care-giving and especially the specialized stuff and maybe he wants to return the favor; whatever, this a nice treat for me because his body is special and I do enjoy rubbing against it. I'm only wearing boxers, which come right off and I step in the bathtub behind Joey and sit down behind him. As soon as I'm situated he leans back against my chest and rests the back of his head on my shoulder. "Okay, now take care of me, slave," as he closes his eyes his body completely relaxes against me. Quite quickly my boner grows and Joey mumbles, "I can feel that damn boner of your's. You better put a leash on it." I go, "You should probably close your eyes and mouth tightly now, Joey, because here comes a soapy sponge," and I wash his face, ears, neck and shoulders, but I do not put a leash on my boner. Taking my time I slowly wash Joey's arms, hands, under arms, and then push him forward to wash his back. With an arm around his chest I pull him back against me and wash the front of his torso, and chest. It's soothing and we both slip into a dreamy lazy mood, neither of us talking and, except for an occasional bit of noisy breathing from both of us, the only sounds in the bathroom are the subtle sounds of dripping water and a soapy sponge on slippery skin. By the time I get down to his belly button the sponge is bumping into Joey's long fat boner; he doesn't have a leash on his either.
You don't need to be gay to get a boner from bodily contact, and I've seen many boners on Joey so it doesn't surprise me that he has one now, but it does leaves open the possibility that he's either bisexual or maybe even gay. I'll bet no one has touched his penis since the last time I touched it almost four days ago. For damn sure Joey hasn't touched it, he couldn't get his arms extended that far down, poor boy. Moving into a tight position in the tub, almost next to him, I wash his legs and feet. Joey still has his eyes lightly closed with a peaceful look on his face. Supporting him with my left arm around his neck, holding his side against my chest, I go over his chest and stomach again, down close to his cock. This position wouldn't even be possible in most modern bathtub, but this old tub is huge. Joey's becoming a very clean boy as I scrub and scrub with that big bath sponge. The gel's lathered into thick creamy bubbles and helps me get Joey squeaky clean. Before washing his feet I stare at them thinking about the twins' narrow, long feet, so perfectly formed. Joey has rather small feet, but aside from that they look as perfect as the Twins'. And by the way, the misguided wisdom that small feet equal small penis definitely does not apply in Joey's case. After soaping his feet I let the sponge float in the water and use my hand to massage the soap into each foot because I like touching them. I don't think I'll ever take feet for granted again after watching Noah and Nathan with their foot fetish routine, not that I have a foot fetish, but those boys were pretty damn hot! Finished with his lower extremities I maneuvered in the tub until I'm sitting behind him again and begin sponging his private parts. We both remain very quiet as I wash his boner, balls, and all around his crotch, and then under his buttock. Joey raises one buttock and then the other to allow me access. We're familiar with the process by now. When he's up on his right buttock I clean his left one and get the soapy sponge scrubbing all along his crack, and then the corner of the sponge a tiny bit up his hole too. Then I push the tip of my finger inside him for just a few seconds; he's so relaxed it goes in easily, but once inside he closes his hole tightly on my finger, holding it there briefly. A long windy sound from Joey as he whistles air quietly through his clenched teeth.
Finished the bathing, I toss the sponge in the direction of the laundry basket and just relax in that warm soapy water with Joey leaning back against me and my arms wrapped around his chest, with my cock still hard as steel pointing left up against his left buttock. After a bit I ask, "You want your hair shampooed, Joey?" He's tired and in a quiet voice, he asks, "Can we do it tomorrow morning, Oliver? You know what I really need though, don't ya?" I mumble, "Sure, master," and I get some bath gel on my right hand and stroke that long cock of his, me peeking around his shoulder so I can watch the uncut foreskin slide on and off his swollen cock head, so full of blood it's dark red. It's peeking up out of the water an inch or so and probably is leaking pre cum, but I can't tell because the bath water keeps sloshing up on it. Joey moan, "Oh yeah, tighter Oliver, faster." He doesn't last two minutes before climaxing an amazing amount of creamy spunk that goes up, then over to splash against the side of the tub. Joey gets jerking around so much during his climax that he's got himself twisted sideways and his last cum shots fire directly, in short spurts, at the side of the tub. It happens too quickly to bring on my climax, so I reach down and do myself under water. I'm not all that horny anyway because of that load I'd shot off while blowing Randy. Still, it feels mighty good shooting off in the warm water, holding onto Joey.
Apparently Joey's climax felt a lot better to him than just good because he's still gulping and grunting along with me as I'm climaxing with soft grunting sounds in my throat. For Joey it's been over four days since his last climax and he'd told me awhile back that before the accident he'd been jerking himself off three or four times a day. A boy after my own heart, but I wonder what he thinks about while he's doing all that wanking. The days he was home over the weekend without even one climax must have been stressful for him, the poor horny boy. After a short recovery period I drain the tub and use the hose with the shower head attachment to thoroughly rinse us both off. The water's very warm and feel so nice and relaxing we lay together in the tub as I keep the shower head on us until the water starts to get cool.Then we struggle a bit getting out of that big, old tub and I dry us both; me standing in front of Joey and him sitting on that straight back chair I'd brought in earlier for the enema. That chair really helps the process along so I decide to leave it right there in the bathroom. See, the experience curve is kicking in; the one we're learning about in our business managemnent course. I get a pair of clean boxer underwear for Joey and then put his light-weight cast back on his arms. After that, with Joey's help, I get him in his bed. Then, with me sitting next to him, we spent an hour going over course material for tomorrow's classes. At the end of that Joey says he's really tired and gets comfortable under the covers ready for sleep. I'm about to turn off the lights when he complains that his rear-end feels raw from all the crapping he did earlier with the enema. Pulling the covers down ad helping Joey get on his stomach, I pull down the back of his boxers and use creamy Vaseline to finger his hole with, pushing lots of creamy Vaseline into his ass with him quietly moaning with pleasure again. His hole doesn't look at all raw to me, but I know what this drill is about. It takes about ten minutes of fingering his hole and then another five minutes of fingering him while stroking his new boner before he finally has his second climax of the evening; a small one, but he does a lot of pleasure moaning along the way. Smiling to myself, I wipe up the spurt of cum as Joey collapses on his pillow and is asleep before I even finish cleaning the Vaseline off my finger. Back in the bedroom I climb in my bed leaving only the night light on. It shines weakly on Joey's face so I study his looks for awhile.
If I go by my imaginary cute meter, which assigned a ratings of ten for Frankie, Randy, and the twins, I guess I'll have to be honest and accept the fact that Joey isn't at their level. Maybe I'd felt he was because I like him so much. Joey actually only registers maybe an eight on my cute-meter. Hmmmm, I really do love that olive complexion of his though, and his short dark curly hair is especially nice too. He's a bean pole for sure, but a very fit five foot, nine inches, and then I think about his eyes. They're closed now, but I can picture them in my head; dark blue eyes with long black curved eyelashes and a fine line of dark eyebrows. Whoa, its all so hot and contrasts so nicely with that special smooth creamy olive complexion. I always want to lick his face. Okay, maybe he's not a ten per se, but he definitely has pedigree looks, no doubt about that, and he's sexy too. Striking looks surely must qualify him for a cute category of some kind, and so what if his nose is a little too big for his face, screw that; I love that nose 'cause it's Joey's nose. I see fuzz on his upper lip that will someday grow into whiskers I guess, same for the fuzz along his sideburns. I'm not a fan of whiskers, but what are ya gonna do? Nice pink lips and those cute, kinda small white teeth. Oh what the fuck was I thinking? He's cute! The hell with my cute-meter, Joey's cute in a special way. He's cute and pretty. And then I think again of his bean-pole, gymnast body with the muscle-packed buttocks and, oh jeez, it's exciting stuff! Just imagine being able to put my slippery boner between those two hard buttocks.. Lord have mercy, I squirm under the covers groping my dick.
Somewhere along the line I fall asleep because the next thing I'm aware of is the alarm going off; the night light still shining where Joey's face use to be. He's on his side now and doesn't seem to be noticing the light or the alarm, still sleeping soundly. It makes me think he must have had a terrible weekend and I feel bad for him because my three-day weekend was great. Well, today is Tuesday and the holiday weekend is now officially over. It's back to class and the drudgery of homework and studying for exams. I'd set the alarm for a half hour earlier then normal so we'd have time to shampoo Joey's hair; it hasn't been shampooed since the last time I did it here in our room. But, instead of getting up right away, I spend some time thinking about how exciting and satisfying my last three days were. I'm feeling on top of the world and happy and how often do I feel I'm lucky, like I've been feeling lately? It's kind of a rare occasion alright. Then Frankie comes to mind and I wonder, 'How can I be the lucky one and the happy one when Frankie's not even around, or for that matter, even allowed to email me?' What's that all about? Just then Joey says in his sleepy voice, "Help me get to the bathroom, Oliver, please. I need to pee." Well, whats new about that, and the day begins. Getting him on the toilet and holding his dick, then getting him situated on the new bathroom chair so I can take a nice pee of my own. Joey looks away making some kind of sound in his throat, but he's seen my dick any number of times so I don't really know why he did the exaggerated look-away. After cleaning my hands and face and brushing my teeth, I do the same for Joey. Next is Joey's shampoo and massage routine, including his shoulder exercises. When all of that is done I pull off Joey's boxes and lay a soaking-wet, warm, washcloth on his pubic area to soften his pubic hair stubble that Joey claims is itching him. Lathering them with shaving cream gets Joey biting his upper lip and short of breath. When I take out the safety razor his cock begins boning up because of his fetish for shaved pubic hair.
Joey goes, "Ohh, wait a second Oliver. I can't catch my breath and my heart is going to beat itself out of my chest. This shaved pubes deal gets me kinda excited." I squeeze the back of his neck and he bends his head back to rub against my hand with the back of his head. While he's trying to calm down I run my fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp. Joey says, "That feels nice Oliver. I think I'm okay now." What I think he means is I can shave his pubes without him spontaneously climaxing and shooting spunk all over the place. He hasn't been able to hold it off in the past, but we'll see how he goes this time. Maybe the shaving will lose it's sexual allure as we do it more and more. Holding his boner in my fist I move it out of harms way as I carefully shave his lower belly and under his balls. Almost with the first scrape of the razor though, he goes, "Ahhh, oh my God," and squirms in the chair. Guess the allure is still there for him. I need to be alert to his squirming because I don't want to nick his skin with the razor. His boner in my hand gets harder and harder with each pass of the razor until pre cum's drooling over my fist. Joey's squeezing his eyes closed moaning with pleasure, and it's more than a little sexy for both of us.
Each scrape of the razor is followed by a sexually turned-on moan from Joey as his fetish takes over his brain. Funny thing about fetishes, there's no way to control your emotions when involved in one. Last time I did this his boner spurted spunk almost as soon as I began shaving him. Not this time though, so maybe he's getting use to it like I speculated might happen. Finished shaving him as clean and hairless as a baby's ass, I'm verifying that I haven't missed a spot by rubbing my fingers all around his groin and somehow this triggers something and Joey goes "Agggh," as the first squirt of cum blurbs two inches out of his pee slit and joins the precum already drooling over my fingers. Joey goes, "Oh, agggh, Oliver!" and I know he desperately wants me to stroke him off so he can get the full impact of his climax. Standing behind him now, I do my best to help him out. A few quick strokes pulling the uncut foreskin on and off the head of his boner causes a foot long string of creamy cum to fire out of that seven inch boner with Joey making odd humming sounds. Next a fat, six inch high spurt joins the previous one pooling on his belly and the humming sound changes to a funny squeal as Joey's shoulders shudder; I'm trying not to laugh. Joey's in the throes of the sensations created by his orgasm and probably wouldn't notice if I did laugh. The remainder of the orgasm is creamy drools as I slowly stroke his cock milking his nuts dry. Joey's squirming so much I need to wrap my arm around his narrow waist and hold him tight against the back of the chair. Then, when he's docile in the chair, I let go of him and use the same warm damp washcloth from earlier to clean up his cum as he moans contentedly with his head lulling against mine. It's actually very arousing to me to have control of his climaxes like this, and it also gives me a good feeling to be helping him get through his recovery period after the car wreck. Finished cleaning him, I rest my forehead on the top of his head and then, unable to stop myself, I give him a longish kiss on the side of his forehead and another one on his cheek. Joey's use to these kisses by now; as long as I don't over-do it he doesn't seem to mind. The one time I tried kissing the side of his lips he protested quietly so I haven't tried that again, but I'm very attached to him by now.
The shaving of his pubes is obviously erotic for Joey and he has his periods of shuddering and shaking during his climaxes, but calming down now he chooses to ignore my kisses, and laugh at himself, saying, "This crazy fetish! Huh, Oliver? How do you figure them out?" I won't tell him about the twins fetish and I won't tell the Twins about Joey's fetish. It's their business. I mutter, "Yeah, I don't know anything about fetishes, Joey, but I do know we've got to hustle things up now or we'll be late for our first class. " Joey says, "Well then stop playing with my private parts and get our asses to class". Earlier, while I was shampooing his hair, he told me how much better he felt this morning, and he's referring to his bowels and his ass because of the enema last night. So now he feels great in that other special area too because his climax has just taken care of his horniness for the moment, and he's back to his nice smiley self. I love this kid, I really do, and I guess taking care of someone to the degree I'm taking care of Joey just naturally makes you grow closer to one another. He's a year younger than me because I'd taken a year off from middle school after my friend died, so I'm a nineteen year old freshman and Joey's the usual freshman age of eighteen. I've come to kind of think of Joey as my younger brother, the one I never had, and I'm determined to be just as good a big brother to Joey as Christian always was to me. We make it to class on time and the entire day goes very well. Especially the last period because our professor for that course left a note on the door saying he had to go home early to deal with a family emergency so we're done for the day early. It's an unusually nice day for fall in the northeast so Joey and I enjoy some sun outside while we smoke a few cigarettes sharing the same one. Frankie Nerney got me hooked on cigarettes and Joey tells me his friend who died in the car accident got him hooked on it when they were juniors in high school. He gets choked up discussing his friends death and shed a few tears without being embarrassed about it. I listen as he tells me he thinks about his dead friend often, making me think about Tyler so many years ago. Joey and me have a lot in common. As we talk, I hold the cigarette to Joey lips and he drags on it, then I take a drag feeling a little dampness from his saliva and I like that so I leave some of my saliva on the filter for him. After a bit we get to laughing about that, which is good because it gets Joey thinking about something besides the accident.
He tells me how well his Doctor's appointment went over the weekend and how excited he is that he has only till Thankgiving break for the elbow casts. Joey's voice gets a little emotional again, but this time from anticipating being free of his casts at last. I go, "Just think how happy I'll be not to need to wipe your ass after your frequent craps." Joey goes, "Bull, you love doing that," and I mutter, "Do not," and he's like, "You lie like a rug". It's all in fun, and frankly I can't remember feeling more relaxed or happier then I am now with Joey. We take our time getting to gymnastic practice where Joey is now helping to arrange the gymnasts' floor exercises. Joey's sort of like an unofficial assistant coach, which keeps him busy and involved with the team. It's obvious he's popular and appears to have natural leadership skills. Hanging around practice for awhile I spot Randy who nods his head that I should come over to his side of the gym. Casually sauntering over, I watch Randy practice with his coach, amazed at how athletic gymnast are. About ten minutes later he's done working with the coach, who moves on to the next gymnast. Randy's looking so cool as he glides over to me, his feet barely touching the floor. When he gets near me his cute face brakes out in this awesome smile, which he seemed to be trying to hold it back, but that big smile just came out anyway. He sits down on the bleacher row in front of me and turns around to go, "Bow wow," and we chuckled at that because yesterday he said he'd probably follow me around like my dog begging me to blow him again, so I mutter, "Any time, dude" and he's like, "No, my turn next time, but you're a tough act to follow." We try agreeing on a time to hook up, but he decides he needs to check the team's schedule first so he tells me to look him up tomorrow at practice. He's more or less telling me what to do, but he's a junior so I don't mind and it actually leaves me feeling good about myself because Randy Rider is the hottest guy I've seen at the university, and he's got a thing for little ole Oliver Nickerson and that's a big deal to me.
Of course, there's always a little crap in everyone's life and Tuesdays usually provides some for me. It's laundry day and today I have all those brown water towels that smell suspiciously of shit to wash, and that's in addition to the regular weekly wash for Joey and me and of course Richards' and Phil's laundry too. Balls! Oh well, a lot of things are going my way lately so I'm not going to dwell on the negative. Even this Tuesday's extra wash load can be done in less than two hours; washed, dried, folded, and delivered. I might as well get started, my mind's still mostly on Randy Rider. He wants to suck me off, sweet. As I'm gathering up the shitty towels, stuffing them into two large plastic trash bags, I think how I'd rather be enjoying this beautiful day outside and just leave the laundry for tomorrow, except I can't because Richard insist on me doing his laundry on Tuesdays, and that bully Phil will smack my ass if I try to change it. What a prick Phil is. I haven't even seen the other prick, Richard, since he handed the job of supervising my laundry chores to Phil. Richard is clever too, he's covering Phil's and his ass by paying for the cost of Joey and my laundromat and dryers too. If I ever complained to someone about having to do their laundry it will look like I'm earning money doing it, that it's a paying job, so what am I bitching about, right? Plus, they're seniors so I'm not about to complain anyway; no one ever believes a freshman about anything. Carrying the shitty towels down first, I get them going on the heavy cycle with bleach, extra detergent, and a second rinse. Then I hurry up to get Phil and Richard's laundry on the third floor. Phil doesn't like it if I'm late because he has to stay in the room until I get there. The thing about this chain of command, from Richard to Phil to me, is that if something gets screwed up with their laundry, Phil, not me, endures Richard's wrath. Phil's scared of Richard and I guess so am I because he can't control his temper and he doesn't know his own strength. If only I hadn't bumped into that prick when I first got here he'd never even know I was alive. Then, to make matters worse, later I also knocked his clean clothes on the dirty floor in the laundromat. Shit, terrible luck! So, now I either do his laundry or get beat-up. There's a side benefit to this though; none of the senior wrestlers fuck with me at all because they know I'm Richard's flunky and everyone thinks Richard is nuts. All the other freshman in our dorm have had unpleasant experiences with the third floor bullies. Senior wrestlers, what a bunch of assholes.
Oh well, here goes: knocking twice on Phil's door I'm nervous, as I always am when picking up their laundry, and that's because Phil has this thing about smacking my ass. He yells, "Come on it, it's open". When I step inside, he says, "I told ya before, just come the fuck in. You're the laundry boy, ya don't have to knock! Oh, and there's an extra duffel bag of stuff I want laundered today. I brought it back with me from home yesterday, it's some of my winter stuff. You'll need to make two trips probably. Well, what the fuck are you staring at? Get moving." Phil seems very edgy today. Edgy and scary so I make sure not to say anything. Even so, apparently I frowned at the mention extra laundry or did something wrong because, without me making a sound, he storms out of his desk chair and does some kind of wrestling move so fast it's like it never happened, but I'm on my ass looking up at the ceiling. I don't even know if I'm hurt. Phil's face is bright red; all of these maniacs are on something, steroids or God knows what, but they're unbalanced and borderline crazy. Phil snarls, "I do not intend putting up with any shit from you today, girlie-boy. No annoyed faces, no back talk, no nothing; just do what you're fucking told. Ya got that?" Beginning to realize my left wrist has been sprained, probably when I tried to break my fall, I hold it in my right hand and massaged it, trying to determine the extent of my injury. It doesn't seem too bad. Phil blurts out, "You skinny shit! I asked you a question," and with that he yanks me to my feet and pushes me, bending me over onto his desk, his left hand at the back of my neck pinning my face to the desktop. The button on my jeans pops off when he violently pulled my jeans and underpants down. Then the palm of his right hand is snapping off slap after slap on my bare ass. I'm helpless against this brute and while I should probably be humiliated to have my pants pulled down with my cock swinging against the desk with each loud slap on my bare ass, mostly I concentrate on not peeing myself, that's what I concentrated on the last time he spanked me too. Didn't work then. It's never obvious what sets this maniac off. He smacks my ass until he's out of breath. As soon as he stops I start begging him that I've had enough because the pain just builds and builds the longer he spanks me. "Please Phil, I'm sorry. I'll get all your stuff and do it first and I promise it will be done right. I didn't mean to ignore your question." I can hear his heavy breathing and only part of it's from exertion because he appears to get sexually stimulated by spanking me. I've seen and even felt his boner from time to time, but always inside his pants as he's never exposed himself while I'm there. Breathlessly Phil says, "You are a maggot and the next time you disrespect me it will be much worse. Got it, maggot?" I mumble, "Yes, I'm sorry. Please, I learned my lesson" With me begging in the background he gives my ass a dozen more deliberate smacks, each one harder than the one before it, and even through I'm squeezing it closed with all my might my bladder spurts out a few squirts of pee as tears break out in my eyes. So much for begging. The pee is on my thigh and down on my crumpled pants hanging just under my limp dick.
Still pressing my face against his desktop he grunts out, "Get all the fucking clothes, clean the fucking clothes, dry the fucking clothes, fold em and get them back up here fucking fast. Got it?" I say real quick, "Yes Phil, right away". He backs away breathing hard and says, "Don't move, pussy, stay on that desk. When you bring the clean, folded clothes back up here, not a single word from you. Keep your head down and put the clothes away, and then come in here and drop your drawers and lean over this desk just like you're doing right now. You wait like that while I inspect the job you did and decide if you need another smack or two on your ass. Got it?" I quickly say, "Yes, Phil." He tells me to go ahead then and do what I'm told. Straightening up from his desk, quickly pulling up my wet underwear and jeans, I walk quickly into the utility room to get his duffel bag and place it outside the dorm room door, then back in to get the overflowing laundry basket. Keeping my head humbly down all the time, but he never looks up which I'm grateful for because he'd see the big pee stain on the front of my jeans. My buttocks are burning and sore as hell and it hurts to walk, but I'm doing everything quickly anyway. Holding the laundry in front of me to hide the pee stain I hurry from the room, just in case he does look up. There's no fooling myself, Phil totally dominates me and I'm going to be a little scared mouse whenever I see him. Next time I'm doing what he just said; keep my head humbly down and quickly do whatever he says. No one else sees me like that but Phil so it's something I need to live with. It's only once a week for a short period of time and from now on I'm going to be totally submissive and cooperative to Phil. It's the best way to avoid a spanking and he really hurts me with those spankings.
In the laundromat there are a few other kids doing laundry, none I know and thank God for that. It's necessary to keep something in front of me at all times to hide my pee stain in the laundromat too. I get the washing machines going and then back to my room to clean myself up and change clothes, feeling sorry for myself the whole time. All the good feelings I'd had just a little while ago vanish into oblivion. In my bathroom I run cold water in the tub and sit bare ass in the cold water, the stinging makes my eyes water, but I'm not crying. That's one battle I'm winning; all my efforts go into not crying. I've got to conquer that urge I've had since, well since Tyler's death I've been a crybaby at times and I'm too old for that shit. At first all I care about is relieving the burning stinging on my ass cheeks, but when they feel a bit better I spend all my energy hating on Phil and to a lesser degree, Richard. After exhausting my hate energy, I try to understand it all and I still can't come up with any better explanation then, wicked bad luck on my part to get myself involved with a sadist like Phil. Richard almost seems normal compared to Phil. Phil's one sick motherfucker alright. Then I wonder why I accept the wicked good luck I experience as what I deserved, but wicked bad luck is not what I deserved at all. After trying to analyze that I feel a headache coming on so I drag my smacked ass out of the tub and get dressed. Back in the Laundromat I switch everything from the washing machines to the dryers and then go into the vending area for a Snapple. My ass is still painful but not throbbing, just bad enough that I don't want to sit down; it only worked in the tub because of the cool water. Walking outside with my drink I have a cigarette still trying to figure out some fucking solution to my troubles with Phil. He can't be reasoned with though and he told me just last week that Richard's rougher on him that he, Phil, is on me. In any case he doesn't want to hear any whining from me. They're animals, and they deserve each other, but do I deserve this treatment for bumping accidentally into Richard twice? I don't think so. Fucking animals. I don't even care that much about the humiliation Phil puts me through because, like I said, no one ever witnesses it but him. As these thoughts swish around in my brain I absently do one of my favorite things, which is boy watching. Evaluating one boy's looks as they walk past. It goes like this: nothing special, nothing special, ugh!, nothing special, nice hair, hot bod but goofy face, nothing special and then, yes very cute. Ha ha. Dumping my empty bottle in a recycle bin I casually sauntered over to get a better look at this one cute boy out of ten. I haven't seen him on campus before. Light brown hair, medium complexion, with big alert shining blue eyes. Jeez, nice body; my type too as he's skinny, wearing a tight, sleeveless, T-shirt, laughing with an older version of himself. Frowning, I'm thinking, 'They can't be twins,' and then it's obvious; the super cute boy is too young to be in college so he's got to be that other kid's little brother visiting him at the University and that's cool. The older kid puts his arm around his younger brother's shoulder and off they go. I think of Joey, then feel all warm inside. Never mind asshole Phil, I'll concentrate on all the positive things that are happening in my life. I have to deal with Phil about fifteen minutes a week, but that piece of shit has to be with himself twenty-four hours a day every day of his miserable life. Thinking about that made me feel better. Fuck you Phil, ya sick bastard.
Back in the laundromat I carefully fold Phil's clothing and then Richard's. After going back over every piece to be sure none of Phil's is mixed in with Richard's, I carried half of them upstairs and, without knocking, open the door. As soon as I turn the knob my heart starts pounding with fear, apprehension, whatever. I walk in and go directly to Phil's dresser and put his regular clothes away and his new winter ones stacked neatly on his bed. Then, without a word, I go right back down to get Richard's clothes and do the same with them. One last look to see everything's correctly in order, I go over to Phil's desk, pull down my jeans and underwear and lean over with my chest flat against his desk top, my bare ass sticking out and my dick and nuts shriveling up. He looks up from his book from where he's sitting in a big over-stuffed chair. Then sternly says, "Stay just like that, pussy," and he goes over to verify I'd gotten everything put away correctly. I'm nervous as hell, sweat on my forehead, my breathing is quick and my heart's beating too fast. A couple minutes passes before Phil slowly walks over and lightly rubs both my ass cheeks which makes them sting again, but I don't utter a sound. "Jesus, I got these butt cheeks really nice bright cherry red," Phil mumbles to himself with a snicker. He smacks each cheek twice, very hard, and says, "Pull 'em up and get out of here. Next week you better have a happy look on that girlie face of yours. All ya gotta do is what you're told to do, for fuck sake. That shouldn't be too hard even for a maggot like you." Jesus, those last smacks start the hot burning stinging feeling all over again. My head down, making sure not to have eye contact, I pull up my pants and scurry out the door before even buttoning up the front of my jeans and I almost run into Richard who's coming in. He says, "Oh yeah, laundry day, Oliver. Phil treating ya okay?" I say, "Yes, it's laundry day. How are you Richard? Yes, Phil treats me fine." He mumbles, "Whatever," and goes inside as I hurry back to the laundromat to finish Joey's and my stuff, plus all our towels.
Just knowing I won't have to see Phil for a whole week makes my eyes water with glee. The treatment I get from Phil isn't right, fair, or in any way justified, but it's over with for another week so I'm putting it out of my mind completely. Next Tuesday I'll make sure I don't say anything unless I'm spoken to and I'll make damn sure I have a pleasant expression on my face so I can avoid the spanking. And, oh yes, avoid eye contact with Phil. My eye contact really pisses him off. I go over these things a few times in my head so they'd be fresh for next week, and then drop the topic from my brain. It doesn't take long to finish up the rest of my laundry and soon I'm outside in the beautiful, unseasonably warm sunny day with a stinging red ass, but it's nice enjoying the sunshine while smoking another cigarette. I'm not thinking about anything in particular when, from nowhere tears burst out of my eyes and I start crying hard. Dropping the cigarette and covering my face with my hands I slump down on the grass leaning against a huge oak tree. No one seems to notice as my shoulders shake like a six year old and I bawl uncontrollably. Of course this crying jag is because of Phil's humiliating and painful treatment, but I'm shocked at the severity of my emotional breakdown. The feeling of being powerless and of being afraid, and I guess it's also disturbing to think that maybe I'm a coward in the way I cower to him. Oh hell, the injustice of the entire laundry debacle overwhelms me and it's all so unfair and depressing that this wild crying jag came out of nowhere to take me completely over. Crying takes a tremendous amount of energy, particularly if you cry with the intensity I'm experiencing. Mostly it's over in less than five minutes, but I'm exhausted from it just the same. Laying down completely on the grass now, my hands over my eyes, I take deep breaths ignoring the stinging on my ass and wipe my face and nose with the bottom part of my T-shirt, then light another cigarette sitting up again. This is where cigarettes come in handy, offering something to do to keep you occupied and keep your mind numb. It's not as if this is the first time I've felt all those kinds of negative emotions; I felt them from my first encounter with Richard too. Actually I've felt them before; I've experienced the same type emotion with every bully who's bullied me throughout my entire life and, ya know, there have been too goddamn many of them for it to be a coincidence. I'm doing something that attracts bullies, but what?
No answer comes to mind, but there has to be some reason other than just bad luck. Getting on my feet, feeling ridiculous for crying like that, I'm glancing around to see if anyone familiar has witnessed my breakdown and realized how few people I actually know here at the University. Who the hell did I think I'd see who knows me? My responsibilities in taking care of Joey limit my opportunity to mingle with kids other than the gymnast, and they're mostly interested in other gymnast. I'm just a necessary temporary outsider as far as they're concerned, except maybe for Randy. I'm down in the dumps again worrying that maybe I suffer from depression, but I don't need to pick-up Joey for over an hour so, down in the dumps or not, I'm determined not to waste this free time outside in the sun. What to do though? Okay, I've got the time so I'll walk over to the Campus Mall where I'd first saw Cristobal all those months ago. Thinking of him makes me daydream about my first gay kiss, my first dance with a boy, and my first gay sex; all with Cristobal. Somehow, if he were here everything would be different. That's what I tell myself anyway, this is just rationalizing though because why would it be better even if he were here. Well, maybe I wouldn't have run into Richard for one thing, then I notice there's only one street singer today and he's no Cristobal, that's for sure; an overweight kid with a full beard and a flat voice. For some reason the beard makes me think of my neighbor Edward, who fucked me when I was a young teenager. That memory was buried in my subcounscious mind until the trip to Seattle visiting Christian. Hmmm, so technically Christobal wasn't my first gay sex, but I can't see how thinking along those lines helps anything, so I decide to keep Cristobal as my official first time. I'm in this weird frame of mind walking the street with all these strangers around me, which just intensified my lonely feeling. I try doing some boy watching, staring quickly at every face of interest, but don't see a single one that qualifies as cute. Wandering to Cristobal's old dorm thinking about how much nicer my dorm is then the one he had last year. While this walk isn't improving my mood, on the positive side, my ass is feeling a lot better.
It's just about time to pick-up Joey so I try getting myself fired up about that, and maybe Randy and me actually becoming a couple too, but can't make myself take that last part seriously. Thinking about Frankie and all the issues he has with Darleen and with himself too, with his denial of his true sexuality doesn't help. What future is there for me with Frankie, I mean if I'm honest with myself? And, Alexander has turned into a bit of a dick, although a fun dick; good sex buddy anyway. But no future for me there either. And while the twins are adorable, get serious there no future for me there either. Spunky, Myers, Pete are no, no and no, future wise also. Christian, of course is not as well. Maybe Daddy/Glen is my future, wouldn't that be a hoot, or even more outlandish, I can have a future being Phil's spanking sex doll. I'm getting silly now, so that encouraging; this depressed mood is just a passing thing. Then I'm thinking: for fuck sake, I'm only nineteen years old, I've got my whole life ahead of me to meet the right guy to have a future with. My frame of mind had been excellent before that animal Phil beat me up, so I tell myself, 'Think about the hot fun things that have been going on in your life lately,' and just like that I realize I've talked myself in a complete circle and I'm on my way back to feeling upbeat again. I hate being a pussy with all this whining and feeling sorry for myself. Enjoy yourself; that's my latest motto. Hey, that motto is really catchy and wicked original too. Enjoy yourself! College is the best time in our lives, right? Feeling proud of myself for working out of the funk so quickly, and by myself too. It use to be I'd run to Christian with every problem that came up, but now I'm learning how to deal with my problems myself. Gee, I better be careful not to pull a muscle patting myself on the back. Checking my watch as I walk into the gymnasium, I still have half an hour before practice is over, so I'll watch some hot gymnastics till then. Gymnast are amazing athletes. Walking by the equipment room on my way to the gym someone grabs me from behind and pulls me inside. The special sexy odor of Randy Rider gives him away though, not to mention his little chuckles as I stagger before falling backward into his arms. Inside he says, "Hiya, Hottie. We got ten minutes to screw around if ya want to. Do ya?" While turning around I go, "Hell yeah!" and we both go for each other's lips. Randy is definitely a world-class make-out artist and his strong hands and arms are all over my body giving me shivers and goose bumps and tiny electric shocks. It seems strange to say that I look up to Randy because he's actually four inches shorter than me, but even so I always do feel like I am looking up to him. He's kind of my idol I guess.
His wet sloppy kisses and the sucking on my lips and tongue gets me so hard, so fast, it's scary and exciting; sort of like a thrill ride at an amusement park. Plus, the way he smells, his natural sexy odor augmented by a hot sexy perspiration smell which threatens to override everything, but adds to my attraction to him. He's been practicing hard for two hours and his whole body's sweaty-damp, but he has me swooning and moaning in spite of it. Almost immediately Randy has his hand inside the back of my jeans grabbing my bare ass. Stinging ass or not, it's such a turn on for having a guy's bare hand fondling my bare ass. If it's Randy giving me spanking, well, that just might be so hot I'd burst out in flames 'cause Randy's another story entirely as I moan into his mouth and hump my hips into his belly just above his crotch. He's in the process of giving me his own quick version of a hickey, replacing Alexander's, when he pushes his finger up inside me. My hole burns initially as he finger fucks me with little strokes, but then it gets slippery and feels good! I mutter, "Do ya think we have time for the real thing?" Randy goes, "Not this time, but we'll make time soon." Then he begins thrusting up my hole using his middle finger and I go up on my toes with each thrust going, "Ahhh," with each penetration. My boner's dripping inside my pants pressed into Randy's side. He finishes with the hickey and pulls his finger out of me to begin massaging both my buttocks using his strong hands squeezing them almost too hard, but not quite. He's almost picking me off the floor pulling up on my buttocks and there's an extra sexy something I'm sensing, maybe because Randy has no idea I'd gotten that hard spanking a few hours ago and his massaging my ass cheeks is actually hurting me, but because it's Randy doing it I'm incredibly turned-on. Strange, but true. His tongue goes back in my mouth and I'm close to cuming as I hear myself making little squealing noises and saying Randy's name. I feel like such a dork doing that, but I can't stop. Soon I'm red faced, out of breath, and partially hypnotized. When he's satisfied he's gotten me as hot as I need to be, he holds my head with a hand on either side of my face and looks me in the eyes, saying, "I could eat you alive, you're so cute! I know it's my turn to do you, but I want you to suck me off real quick right now and then I'll owe you two." The shit smell from his middle finger is close to my nose as he speaks, but I numbly nod my head and get down on my knees in front of him.
Same deal as last time, only quicker. Randy's much sweatier this time too, but I swear I don't mind. I'm flattered he wants me sucking him off and I'm so hot and horny from all his attention it's surreal. This time while rimming him I try impressing him by getting the tip of my tongue inside his hole and I think I have some success. He's saying "Oh yeah, Oliver, push harder, oh yeah." It's a little gross down here at first, but it's Randy so I don't mind. I lap his sweat soaked jock strap for a bit, but Randy's short on time so he takes his jock off fairly quickly and presses my face into his sweaty crotch. His cock's very hard, sticking straight up his belly, drooling precum. It presses against my forehead and his balls hang underneath my chin, that's how he has my face pressed against his crotch. I never stop licking and lapping for a second, my tongue's aching from the effort but I keep at it with Randy encouraging me to keep it up, "You're doing great Oliver, oh yeah. Lick more there, more Oliver, use longer laps." My tongue is licking his crotch clean and before I know it Randy's deep throating me again. He manipulates my head in his strong hands and really goes at fucking my mouth and throat with his long fat boner going down my throat further than it did the first time and me gagging with every thrust. For me it's truly awesome to be sexually dominated so fully and my balls tighten up against my belly so I undo the front of my pants to get at my cock. Almost immediately those hard nuts send my spunk flying up and out of my boner. I'd only stroked it three times and the head of my cock burns as the cum flies out. Actually I would have climaxed without touching it at all except the urge was strong and made me grab it and stroke it. Randy got me so sexually alive I feel on fire with my whole body vibrating.
I'm finished climaxing completely before he even begins, and then does he ever have a big explosion of cum up and out of those big balls of his. Lots and lots of creamy spunk down my throat, in my mouth, and on my face and neck when he pulls his cock from my mouth and strokes it. It's too much too fast down my throat and I hiccup cum up my sinuses and some spurts out my nose where it drools around the outside of my mouth with me catching some on my tongue. After blasting his major load in my throat and mouth he'd done the same as last time; like I said, he pulls his cock out of my mouth and jerks it off in a frenzy and gets more spunk that lands on me. When the spunking's over he smears cum around my face and up into my hair with his cock moving his cum around. I think he just wanted something to rub his sensitive cock against and my face was handy. Randy's making snorting noises as he continues rubbing his free hand on the back of my head pulling my short hair in the process. I just stay here on my knees coming down off my high thinking Randy's the hottest, coolest thing ever. In a fog I notice my own cum shots had miraculously gone through the narrow opening between Randy's legs. "Get up Oliver, and let me clean you up some. Come on, get up." When I stand, he smirks and says, "You like a tight hand, don't ya?" Randy sounds out of breath as he talks while pulling up his pants. I'm not sure what he means by a tight hand, but I do what he says and I'm standing up. He takes a small sweaty towel that's hanging out the back pocket of his gym shorts and wipes his own sweaty face with it first, then reaching up he uses it to try wiping the cum off my face. After each swipe of the towel he'd spit on it trying to get it wet and then more wipes on my face. His spit smells real nice. Randy doing this reminds me of when I cleaned Spunky's lipstick off using my spit as a cleaning fluid just like Randy's doing with me. I try to stand just as still for Randy as Spunky did for me. Lastly Randy cups the back of my head with his left hand and holding that funky smelling towel against my nose with his other hand, he says, "Blow hard Oliver, you've got some of my cum up your nose". He makes me blow hard three times before he's satisfied. All the time he's cleaning my face, he whines about how much he misses his boyfriend and then, changing topics, he goes into how much it meant to him that I was helping him relieve his pent-up sexual desires and all kinds of stuff like that. He's nice, and very grateful. "You're helping me get through this break-up, Oliver. Now I owe you two blow jobs, but I needed this so badly. I'm having a hard time getting over him." Then he pulls me to him and hugs me hard. "Thank you, Oliver. " He looks at me then, with a puzzled look on his face and adds, "Thanks, but you liked it even more than me. Didn't ya?" I just smile because how do I know how much he liked it? Randy shakes his head a little like maybe he just discovered something and then tells me to open my mouth. When I do he puts his finger in, the one he had up my hole and he tells be to suck it clean. Yuck, what an acrid taste. Thirty seconds of sucking his finger and the taste miraculously is gone. Randy pulls it out and rubs it up the front of my nose with some of my spit going up my nostrils, as he asks, "Smell okay?" I nod my head, in my usual trance, and Randy smiles, saying, "I'm a little fucked-up about Danny at the moment, but I've got some ideas for you that you'll love. Right now though, I gotta go," and he sprints out the door to get to wherever it is he needs to be. Standing here in my trance-like state of mind, absently wiping the palm of my hand over my face making sure Randy hadn't missed any of his cum, I finally detect some cum shot in my hair which I mess around with and then flattened the messed-up hairs against my scalp.
Wow, talk about the unexpected! I already said surreal and that's what it was alright. Peeking out the door and not seeing anyone, I slip out of the equipment room trying to act casual. Holy shit, that's the perfect storm Randy and I just experienced. With fantasy thoughts of me and Randy spending a night together in bed sometime, I look for Joey. Spending a night in bed with Randy can't happen until Joey is able to take care of himself. You know, when he can be on his own for the night. Then I think, 'Whoa Oliver, you're getting way ahead of yourself now, and you need to calm down'. Randy is so sexy he's getting me all worked up fantasizing stuff for the two of us to do together. He was nice too, apologizing and fussing over me trying to clean my face while thanking me for helping him get over his lost love with his ex-boyfriend. Well, I guess he never mentioned love, but the poor guy's hurting, I didn't known what to say to make him feel better. It was awkward listening to him confess how broken up he is over being dumped. Randy wears his heart on his sleeve it. I gotta admit, I'd sure like to meet this ex-boyfriend of Randy's! If he dumped Randy, he must be some kind of awesome hot dude himself. Maybe not though, Randy may be in crazy about him for other reasons. Whatever the reason, he said he's missing his boyfriend. Probably he means he misses him sex-wise and that's all. I do not want to get involved in their breakup, and I don't think I am, except is Randy's involvement with me what they mean when they say, 'catching someone on the rebound'? None of these concerns require action of any kind at the moment, it's more along the lines of being aware of the possibilities. Randy and I could turn be a good thing or not so good, but for now it's hot fun. Fifteen minutes later I round-up Joey and off we go to the dorm to drop off my backpack, and then to the dining hall. He's in a good mood and that helps me stay upbeat too. My mind keeps drifting to that last quickie with Randy and the way he's acting more and more bossy each time we get together; bossy, but he's nice too. Thinking about that gives me a semi-boner which I have through most of my dinner as I think about the submissive thing I have for sexy guys. I like bossy, and I think I first noticed in on the boardwalk when cool Mike Sullivan dominated me, but without sex. Man, there's a fun fantasy right there. Mike would be a hell of a dominant sex partner. I'm letting my imagination run away with me, but wouldn't it be hot if Mike's cute friend Richie were gay. Jeez, haha... I'd like to make it a threesome haha. Unfortunately reality doesn't work that perfectly. Sigh....
to be continued...
chapter 18 (Joey's surprise) Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
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