DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR
Chapter 18
by Donny Mumford
I'm sitting in preppy stoner, Tom's, black Toyota pickup. At this moment I'm coming down off a high from smoking part of the crack-laced marijuana joint he had. He's outside the pickup leaning on the windowsill of the passenger door's open window looking kinda cute and hot. He gives me a 'look', then asks, "Um, do you still want me to fuck you?" He seems serious about that, so I squint at him, asking, "Whaddaya fuckin' talking about, Tom?" He chuckles, "Nothing, forget it. You asked me to fuck you when you were high, that's all. I didn't think you meant it. I'll get you the beer you asked for." Taking a deep breath, then puffing out my cheeks while exhaling it, I try
remembering if I mentioned sex with him, but nothing comes to mind. Listlessly waving a hand at him, I mumble, "Yeah, whatever, okay." He starts to leave, then stops and asks, "Are you sure you're feeling okay? No anxiety feelings or depression." I nod my head, "Yeah, I'm okay. Anxiety, depression? Why the fuck would you ask me that?" He smiles with a little chuckle, then says, "No reason. It's all good," and starts walking down the driveway towards the pool house. I'm watching him walk because he does it so effortlessly, almost gliding down the driveway very light on his feet. Damn, he's pretty hot! I grope myself, surprised I'm feeling sexual heat for him. He's definitely a cool and confident dude, and he also seemed sincerely concerned for my well-being just now. Hmmm, well yeah, but if that's truly the case why did he basically peer-pressure me into smoking that joint with him? Is he really a sincere guy or a con man, or perhaps a psychopath? Ha ha, the truth is I don't know what the fuck Tom's all about. Huh, so I asked him to fuck me. Jesus! I definitely don't remember doing that. On the other hand I don't think he'd just make it up. It's just that's it's totally not like me to ask for it. I'm not used to smoking weed though so who the fuck knows what I might have said. Normally I wait to be invited to have sex and then decide, that's my deal. Of course I've been turning down side-sex at a dizzying pace lately so maybe under the influence of pot and crack I did ask him to do it. That pot was kinda sweet too. I mean, it gave me this weird awesome glow, but then there's the part where my lips and part of my face went numb. Damn, how'd I let myself smoke that joint? Two things I normally don't like at all are pot and boilermakers, and yet I just finished doing both. Hmmm, but that sensation I felt was so different from any I've ever felt before. Very interesting. It was like a sense of being fully aware of myself and very calm, not a care in the world. Man, the truth is I'm shocked I didn't hate it.
Tom returns with two cups of beer. He passes one to me through the open window. Taking it, I mumble, "Thanks," and he takes his beer with him around the front of the pickup to get in the driver's seat. Inside he looks at me grinning, then when I go to take a swallow of beer, "Wait a second, Dylan, don't drink it yet. Hold your cup over here." Oh no, he's getting his pint of VO out again. I don't want liquor in my beer, which begs the question of why I'm holding my cup out to him. He grins at me pouring a shot of liquor in my beer, then adds a little more to fill my cup to the brim. After doing the same for his beer, he taps his cup to mine, spilling overflow onto the seat, saying, "To your successful first time experience with a crack-laced joint. Nicely done, Dylan. You're a stud, dude," and we both drink some of our gruesome boilermakers. I gag a little, then giggle, muttering, "I'm such a pussy when it comes to hard liquor. My brother just lets shots roll down his throat." Tom says, "Your brother would be Jeff, right?" I nod my head, then ask, "How'd you know that?" He shrugs, "I don't know. Hey, what's it like going to college?" I tell him some of the pros and cons of college life, and he's like, "Sounds mostly cool. I'm thinking of applying to an Ivy League college the first of the year. Unlike my brother, Hummer, I graduated high school the regular way. With honors, actually." I'm like, "Honors, huh? Why didn't you go to college then?" He says, "I wanted to travel first. My dad sent me on this chaperoned trip for six months touring Europe. Me and twenty other graduates from all over the northeast. We toured Germany, France, Great Britain and then Northern Ireland, so I guess I should say we toured the United Kingdom, although I don't often hear it called that around here." I ask, "What's the difference between Great Britain and the United Kingdom?" He shrugs, "I probably have it wrong, but I think England, Scotland, and Wales constitute Great Britain, and when you include Northern Ireland it becomes the United Kingdom." I gulp some beer and VO down, then ask, "What about the rest of Ireland?" He says, "Fuck if I know, I guess it's just plain Ireland. I never was much of a geography student."
Tom's tells me about some of the adventures he's had and there are some good stories to tell about the time he spent in Europe, and he's also interested in me and the mundane things I have to tell him about my job last summer. We talk a lot about sports too, which he's very knowledgeable about, especially college sports which I don't pay much attention to outside of Merrimack. When we're done our cup of beer, he asks, "Hungry?" I shrug, "Yeah, a little, I guess." He goes, "Come on, we'll see what's left of that big buffet." I'm feeling fairly normal after coming down off the pot high, but it's the two boilermakers that have my attention now. Nothing serious, but I definitely feel those shots of VO. We're the only ones at the buffet line... so huh, I check my watch and find it's only quarter to eleven. Wow, it's later than I thought it was and that means I've been with Tom for almost forty-five minutes. It seemed more like fifteen or twenty minutes. The once bountiful buffet is now slim pickings. I grab one of the three fried chicken wings left over, which are all that remain of the earlier big pile of fried chicken. Three barbecue ribs go on my plate and the last of the cheesy potatoes. Tom tries a little of whatever's left, and then we look around holding our plates. I see Seth, Cory, and Connor sitting in chairs near one the portable outdoor fireplaces. They're all drinking beer, talking, and laughing. The CD is playing something I don't recognize, but Tom nods his head at a speaker and mumbles, "Van Morrison." I'm like, "Oh, I guess the adults have taken over the de-jaying," then I shrug, "What the fuck, lets sit at that table over there." It's the same table all the guys were at earlier. We sit down and Tom asks, "You just said, 'the adults have taken over'. When will you consider yourself an adult? You're almost legal drinking age now." I shrug, "I don't know, not yet though. I think I should at least be out of school before becoming, gulp, an adult. I call myself a college student, which is what I am actually." He laughs. Tom laughs easily and often. I ask, "Um, how old are you, Tom?" He chews on a rib, swallows, and says, "Nineteen, I'll be twenty in January. I graduated high school over a year ago."
As we eat, Tom's full of compliments about everything: Rob, me, my brother, friends of mine, everybody and everything is admired by Tom. He says, "And fuck, almost every guy you hang out with is so fucking good looking too, it's like unheard of. You, your brother, Rob and his brother, that kid Connor and I don't know who else are wicked cute and good looking, and it's kinda freaky for a gay guy like me to see all you hot guys walking around." That's a weird subject so I steer the conversation toward a more general gay area, like the experience of growing up gay in a straight world. We talk about being gay, exchanging the same old questions of when we first suspected we were gay, and when we knew for sure we were gay. First gay experiences of course, and things like that. I edited my first gay experiences with fat Carl quite a bit because it's embarrassing looking back on it now. What a fool I was to idolize fat Carl for those couple of months so long ago. Halfway done our plates, Tom says, "Shit, we need something to drink. Be right back." He walks off and I spot Dodger, Chubby, and Vinnie talking near the side door of the pool house. Dodger looks up and sees me looking at them. I give him the finger, grinning at him. Dodger laughs and waves back, then calls over but I can't make out what he's saying so I shake my head pointing at my ears. He comes over and leans on the table with a hand on either side of me from behind, asking, "Do you want me to fuck you again? Is that why you keep stalking me?" I laugh because I've hardly seen him at all since we ate. I go, "Yeah, you've seen through me, soldier boy." He goes, "I'm gonna have to disappoint you this time because my boyfriend is in desperate need of my undivided attention. Then he straightens up rubbing my head, saying, "What I was trying to tell you from over there is this: Robby wants me to tell you he's really sorry, but him and dad had to go meet some people about financing the expansion for Dickers and Son Landscaping and Design." I ask, "On a Saturday night? What the fuck?" He goes, "Ya got me," and he sits next to me taking my fried chicken wing off my plate and chewing on it, mumbling, "It's cold,"meaning the chicken wing I assume, not the Saturday night business meeting. I ask, "Does it bother you about the 'Son' part that's being added to the name of the company?" He says, "You mean instead of making it plural?" I nod, and he says, "Yeah, it does," and he drops the bones of the chicken wing on my plate, saying, "Thanks for the chicken wing, you hot shit," and he kisses my cheek with greasy lips, laughingly wiping at my cheek with the palm of his hand, then he goes back to talk with Chubby and Vinnie. Vinnie's laughing like hyenas. Wish I heard what Chubby said that was so funny. He's a fucking funny guy, my brother.
Tom comes back and sits down putting a can of Coke in front of me. I expected spiked beer or spiked Coke. Thankfully I get neither. The can of Coke isn't even opened. "Thanks, Tom. By the way, do you have a last name?" He goes, "It's Churchill, why?" I ask, "Any relation to..." and he says, "To Winston Churchill? No, although many years ago my great, great, grandfather came over from England. Not on the Mayflower though." I go, "I don't know anything about my father's family history. Or my mother's either now that I think about it." He chugs some Coke, burps, then asks, "If it's not too personal a question, how come you and your brother have different last names?" I think about that, then say, "It is too personal, Tom, sorry. It's confusing
too." Then, prancing across the yard comes Tom's brother, 'Hummer' along with another kid. Hummer hugs around Tom's neck, asking, "How's my gay, drug-dealing brother doing tonight?" The kid Hummer's with looks wasted as he gazes at the sky mumbling something. Tom says, "Oh goody, it's my handsome, high school dropout brother. I'm doing find, Hummer, how 'bout you, bro? Um, do you know Dylan?" Hummer says, "Yeah, we sorta met. How ya doing, Dylan?" I shrug, "Good, how 'bout you?" He nods at his friend, "I'm doing better than him anyway," then to Tom, "Can I borrow the Toyota for a half hour? I gotta get Miller home before he hurts himself." Tom asks, "You straight, bro?" and Hummer goes, "Yeah, I'm cool," and Tom gives him the keys, saying, "Get back here before twelve, you hear me?" Hummer mutters, "Yeah, yeah, thanks. Come on Toad, lets go for a ride." The kid named, Toad Miller, says, "Cool, a ride," and they wander off with Toad bumping into Hummers' side every other step. I watch them for a second, then glance at the ten or twelve adults that are left at their two tables. I want to see if any of them are watching the stumbling Toad. None are.
Tom and I talk for maybe twenty minutes just sitting here at the table smoking cigarettes. I go, "Tom, I'm curious, what's your brother's real name?" He drains what's left of his Coke, crushes the can, then says, "It's an Old
English name, Sumner. I got Thomas and he got Sumner." I ask, "How'd he get 'Hummer' for a nickname?" Tom chuckles, then says, "Hummer was very young when he started talking. He'd point at himself and try saying his name. Naturally he'd heard his name a lot, but he pronounced it as 'hummer' instead of 'Sumner'. Me, being only a year or so older then he related more to what he said than what my parents said, so I called him 'Hummer' from then on, and it stuck. At my young age I figured who better than him to know what his fucking name is." I laugh, then ask, "Why did he drop out of high school?" Tom shrugs, "He got mixed up with the wrong crowd. He's smart like me, but dumb when it comes to common sense. My parents have got him working toward his equivalency diploma. He also works in one of my father's franchises. Dad owns like twenty-five UPS Store franchises up and down the east coast. He's rich, dude. I guess Hummer and I are too." I go, "Huh, lucky fuck's."
Then it occurs to me to ask, "Um, how come you deal drugs if you're rich?" He takes a deep breath, "It's a long story, but the short version is I gambled and lost. All during my senior year I was gambling on sporting events, mostly football, but when I got in the hole I extended the gambling to include college basketball games and kept losing like the loser I was. My bookie was a kid I played on the soccer team with as a freshman. He was a senior at the time and of course graduated. His father's, um, connected, if you know what I mean. I started out with bets of fifty dollars and I won some and lost some, but not big loses until February of my senior year. I lost a couple thousand dollars on the Super Bowl. By Easter I owed about a thousand dollars. I kept doubling up my bets and when I graduated I owed over ten thousand. My betting from the Super Bowl onward fucked me up good. The bookie knows my father's rich so he's carried my debt as a loan which I pay a weekly vig on. That's loan sharking jargon meaning it's 'interest'. It was like two hundred bucks a month when I owed him the ten grand. In Europe I met this cool dude who I fucked around with. He got me into dealing. After I came back home he started sending me good pot and crack hidden in various gift boxes. It's high grade and we trust each other so I send him money orders after each delivery. I'm dealing only with college kids and I've got my loan down to five thousand in three months. I'll be even-steven in another three months and then I stop dealing. Needless to say I haven't gambled since graduating." I don't know if I believe him or not. I ask, "How come you didn't confess your mistake to your father and begged him for a loan to pay off the money that way?" He shrugs, "I had my reasons at the time. Hey, you want another cup of beer?" I go, "Yeah, okay." He stands up and stretches, mumbling, "Okay, and another joint too." I'm not as opposed to trying another joint as I thought I'd be. It was a unique experience for me, but certainly not unique to many of my fellow students. Recreational drug use is one thing, and it's wide spread, but becoming an abuser or a pot head is another thing all together. That's something I'll stay clear of. Another reason I'm gonna do a second joint with him is because I'm kinda taken in a little by his flattery, plus I don't want to come off looking like a dork. What's one more joint, a shared one at that? On our way to the pool house, he says, "Um, about telling my father about my debt: I was too embarrassed to ask him for the money. Hummer's suppose to be the dumb shit screw-up, not me. And, what the fuck, I didn't want him to know what an asshole I was." I mumble, "You're taking a hell of a chance, Tom. I don't think it's worth it. You could multiply your problem a hundred fold if you get caught." Before he can respond to that, his brother, Hummer, comes jogging down the driveway toward us, yelling, "Yo, Tommy!" We stop and wait for him, then he says to Tom, "I parked the pickup on the street in front of the house a little ways down on the right. I couldn't get back in the driveway because some asshole is blocking it." He gives Tom the keys, asking, "Where's everyone?" I say, "Probably inside the pool house." We all go in and the stoner boys are indeed in the pool house. Hummer does some hand slaps as the guys are asking him about Toad.
Tom pours two cups of beer for us while I listen to the stoners boys' conversation, which now includes two non-stoners, Dodger and Vinnie. Other than going through the buffet earlier, the boys have hung out exclusively in the pool house. Keeping them away from the adults is best because they're loud
and very much into yelling out the 'F' bomb. The boys are having what they probably think is a serious discussion about Zen. A redheaded stoner claims, "Dudes, I'm so Zen I've dropped all illusions and I'm able to see things without the distortion created by my own thoughts." None of them are smoking weed in here, or I'd smell it, but who knows what other drug they may be on. Blade says, "You dumb shit, Harry, your thought about not letting your thoughts distort what you see has distorted your conclusion." I roll my eyes at Dodger, who's chuckling and dragging on a cigarette. The tall skinny kid, who Cory said wasn't with them last night, says, "You're both full of shit. It's like we're all crazy and those we think are crazy are actually the only sane ones among us." Harry says, "Oh, you mean those fucked-up homeless people babbling on the streets of downtown Framingham? They're sane and I'm crazy?" As he pours some VO in both beers, Tom says to me, "This is way too intellectual of a discourse for the likes of us, Dylan," and Vinnie laughs, then says, "Yeah, for me too, Dodger. Lets do something else." Dodger nods his head at the door leading to the driveway and the four of us leave the pool house. Dodger says, "I wanna show you something in my room, Vinnie, heh heh. You've seen it before, but you like it," and then he says to me, "See ya later, dude." Looking at Tom, he hesitates, then goes, "Let me have a shot of that VO, will ya?" Tom pours some into Dodger's cup. A muttered, "Thanks," from Dodger, then he and Vinnie go inside through the side kitchen door as Chubby's coming out holding hands and talking with a girl. Where'd she come from?
I go, "Bro, whassup?" and Chubby introduces me to, Marlene, the daughter of one of the adult neighborhood guests. She says, "Nice to meet ya," and I introduce Tom. Marlene says, "I didn't think girls were invited to Dodger's homecoming, but being curious I walked my dog by the house and was kidnapped by Jeffrey." I give Chubby a look and he shrugs smirking at me. I say, "Have fun you two. Tom and me are gonna smoke some blow." Chubby laughs, "Yeah, I'll bet you are." He knows I don't like marijuana so he thinks I'm kidding. Cool to be able to tell the truth about doing something a little dangerous and not be believed. They go into the pool house for beers while Tom and I walk down the driveway to find his pickup. We get in and Tom says, "Would you mind if we drove someplace where we can smoke pot and not need to worry Rob's parents might be about?" I say, "No, I don't mind, it's a good idea. Where do you want to go?" He starts the pickup, saying, "I don't know. Maybe we'll park at one of dad's franchises. They're closed until Monday." We sip on the boilermakers as he drives and tells me more about his adventures in Europe last spring and summer. He had lots of sexual encounters along the way, telling me he went through a shit load of condoms. I ask, "You
ever do it bareback?" and he looks at me, asking, "Are you out of your fucking mind? I'm nor suicidal, I use condoms. Good ones too." I nod noncommittally and sip some of my vial boilermaker. All I taste is the VO. It's like a twelve ounce cup of liquor. Fuck!
It occurs to me that there may be another reason Tom wants to drive someplace secluded. In addition to not getting caught smoking pot, he may be thinking he and I might have recreational sex together. After all, although I don't recall doing it, he said I already asked him for it once tonight. My feelings about us having sex is the same as I had about trying another one of
his crack-laced joints, I'm not particularly opposed to the idea. Rob and I had good sex a few hours ago, but I forget what it feels like to have recreational sex with someone new. There's something to be said for newness, ya know. Recreational sex with Dodger yesterday doesn't count because we've done it a number of times over the years and while it's always hot with him, it not new. There's something to be said for familiarity too, of course, and as a matter of fact I wouldn't mind at all, for old times sake, if Dodger, Vinnie, and me have a three-way sex-a-thon before Dodger heads back to the Army. That's not happening tonight though so I'll see what develops here and now. I'm not going to suggest it again... that'll be up to Tom. He drives to the end of a strip mall's parking lot off of route 9 A. As we pass the stores I see the sign for his father's 'The UPS Store'. The only place open at this strip mall on a Saturday night is a Subway sandwich shop next to the The UPS Store. Four cars are parked in front of it. We keep going until Tom turns right at the last store, a dry cleaning establishment long since closed for the night. There's one security spotlight at the top of this one story structure, but it's broken. The alley dead-ends ahead, blocked by a dumpster. Secluded spot, fer sure.
Tom puts the windows down and turns off the pickup. Looking at me, he holds his cup over to tap mine, saying, "Cheers," and we drink. "Do you want your own joint this time, Dylan, or a shared one?" I go, "Lets share, I don't trust myself with a whole one." He shrugs and takes a joint out of his shirt pocket and fires it up. Taking a drag and holding the smoke in, he passes the joint to me. I imitate him and immediately feel the buzz. "Take another hit," he says, so I do and right away feel a floating sensation as I lay back against the seat. Tom takes the joint from my fingers, "Before you get too high, do you want me to fuck you like you said earlier?" What the fuck does he mean, before I get high. Oh man, it's like a liberating feeling. I go, "Whoa, that really hit me quick," and he goes, "Yeah? It might have more crack in the mix than the first one. What do ya say about us having sex together to cement our relationship. I'd really like to, but it's totally your call." Wow, I feel good! Too good to discuss whatever the fuck he meant by 'cement our relationship'. I mumble, "Um, yeah, okay lets do it. You're sexy and hot and I need a good fucking about now," which gets me giggling like mad. He drags on the joint, hold the smoke in his lungs before exhaling, and as the smoke drifts out he mumbles, "Jesus! That's some good shit." Then he slides over to the passenger seat with me, avoiding the gear shift in the middle, and puts his arm around the back of my neck pulling my face to his, asking, "Do you like it hard and rough?" I go, "What?" and he holds the joint to my lips. I inhale deeply holding my breath, as he says, "Do like getting fucked hard and rough?" I exhale a long held breath, asking "What'd ya say, Tom?" and I giggle again, "Fuck, that shit's good," as somewhere in my brain I realize I just repeated what he said.
With Tom holding my head near his, his right arm around the back of my neck, he holds the joint to my lips, saying, "Here ya go, take a deep pull on this." As I do that he says, "Most people say smoking weed increases their libido so we might as well find out if you're in the majority. I'm gonna do you hard... fuck you hard, dude," and he presses the side of his face against mine, murmuring, "You've got the sexiest smell about you. I can smell it even with pot in the air. You're one sexy mother fucker, ain't ya?" His talking is white noise to me and all I know is if I get anymore mellow I'll slide right off this fucking seat. "Here ya go, Dylan, inhale this shit and exhale into my mouth like I showed you earlier." I do that as I lean against him with my arms going around him to hold on so I don't fall over. After taking the smoke in my lungs my lips are against Tom's and I exhale into his mouth. Smoke comes out his nose as he says, "Another," and we do it three more times before he flicks the hot roach out the window and then unzips my fly. "Lift up, Dylan, let me get your pants down." My lips go to his and my tongue goes in his mouth as I lift my ass off the seat and he pulls my underwear and cargo pants down to my knees. My cock is in his fist as he scoots away a little, leans down and puts my cock in his mouth. I go, "Oooh," rubbing my fingers in his moussed hair.
His tongue and lips are like magic on my dick and I'm squirming on the seat moaning stupidly, no inhibitions about moaning as much as I want. The crack-laced weed's in my head and for me it seems to be sensitizing my penis. Tom's doing a hell of a job slurping, sucking, and licking my hardening cock. I spring a raging boner in less then a minute. "Ooh, ooh, umm, mm, ahh, ahh." His saliva coats my cock and I'm in a sea of sexual excitement and pleasure. Soon precum drools down the shaft of my boner, a long drool that has me squirming all around the seat moaning and gripping his head with both hands. More precum joins with his saliva now to slide down my wooden cock and wet my balls. A few more seconds of sucking gets me gasping, "I'm gonna fuckin' cum, ooh, mmm, ooh, ooh. I'm gonna cum..." He pulls his mouth off my cock leaving it standing straight up from my nuts. My head's back, rubbing back and forth against the seat as my cock throbs. A climax is two sucks and a lick away. "Uuuum, Tom, ooh, fuck, mmmm." He grins at me and leans over to suck on my mouth now, his tongue all over the inside and moving around sexily. He pulls away, muttering, "You get me so fucking hot. Get up on your hands and knees, up on the seat." I do that as he's pulling his pants down. I glance back, panting and dizzy from the weed, seeing a really nice-looking long cock between his legs, hard and wet. He struggles a condom packet out of his pant's pocket. I mumble, "You don't need that with me." He looks at me, hesitates, then drops the condom and gets on his knees behind me pressing the head of his cock to my asshole. "Oh man," groans Tom, "I'm gonna fuck you so fucking hard," and his cock plows past my sphincter with my back arching and me moaning, "Aaaah, ooh, it's big." Tom cups my shoulders with both hands and humps his hips driving his cock a few inches up my ass. He leans his forehead on my back, going, "Ooooh, fuck, ummm," then another thrust with his hips and I screech out, "Ooow, fuuuck!"
Tom rubs my back and sides leaving his cock three-quarters of the way up my ass. He murmurs, "This feels so fucking good without a condom. It's like a whole new experience for me. I don't know what the fuck it is about you, but it seems right to do you without a condom. It's my first time ever without protection." I don't even know what he's saying. His words are white noise again as my ears ring and the drugs fully enter my bloodstream. It's like an unbelievable out of body experience with my rectum the center of my being. I groan, Ooooh," as the fantastic feelings are coming in waves from my super sensitive ass. My cock quivers in it's hardness, my balls buzz, and all over my body these's little funny feeling tingling sensations are making my shoulders shudder and twitch. "Oooh, fuck me, mmmm, feels so good." He says something and rubs my back. All I can manage to say is, "Uh huh," to whatever he said. He forces his hard boner way up my ass spreading the walls of my rectum. I moan and hump my hips backward. My buttocks are become surrounded by tickling hairs now, and then Tom leans against my ass, his groin tight against me. He grunts, "Ooooh yeaaaah." After a few seconds of him
grinding his hips in a circle, he withdraws most of his hard long boner and I squirm around on my hands and knees with a blizzard of sexual pleasure sensations filling my brain. Driving his hard cock right back up my ass fast and I feel and hear, "Slap," from his groin hitting my butt cheeks. Gripping my hips, Tom begins fast hard fucking as the familiar and delightful, "Slap,slap,slap,slap," sounds fill my ears, then faster and harder, "SLAP,SLAP,SLAP,SLAP!" and I'm groveling, my back arching, my head moving all around as I lick my lips and moan. His fingers dig into the skin at my hips as he hammers his cock back and forth in my ass. His boner grows thicker and harder as he moans quietly in between gasps for air. "SLAP,SLAP,SLAP,SLAP," and I'm bucking on the seat hopping up off my hands and knees moaning, "Oooooh."
There's four or five minutes of steady fucking with me moving and hopping around on the seat, moaning with the, "Slap, slap, slap," sounds that signal pleasure so intense I can't stay still. Tom finally wraps his arms around my stomach, laying on my back as his hips keep up the steady thrusting. His arms are partially holding me still while he's thrusting his hard boner up
my ass fast and hard, "Slap,slap,slap,slap,slap," until a long squeal from me and I thrust forward, gargling noises from my throat now as I gag and cum streams out of my throbbing cock, me moving in his arms so much the stream of cum comes out squiggly making the letter 'Z' in cum on the passenger door. My vision sees black like the blackness of space with so many erotic sensations bombarding my brain that I can't see anything but the blackness. Tom grunts pulling me up, my hands leave the seat as he plasters by back against his chest and pounds his cock up my ass. I hump forward with my hips again as three more shots of cum fire from my cock. "Aaaah, uum, ooh," with his boner continuing it's relentless plowing of my ass sending awesome sensations to every nerve ending in my body. I have no idea where I am, or who I'm with, as the sensations spread out from my groin, down my legs and up my torso. I'm humping my ass wildly back into his thrusts while we both are moaning weird animal sounds like they make in heat. It's like my brain is acutely aware of each individual sensation of sexual pleasure I'm feeling. Like each one is highlighted individually. Millions of tiny balls of bright colors now replace the blackness and swim in front of me. I'm waving at the colored balls trying to catch one in my hand. Then Tom slams against me so hard and we fall forward flat on the seat, our legs tangled up behind us on either side of the gear shift, and our feet out the driver's open window. He humps up off me and then flops back down driving his engorged cock up my ass until he makes this scary whizzing noise followed by a desperate whining cry and my ass is immediately a sea of semen. Creamy spunk fills my ass, spilling out so that now his desperate humping makes a wet smacking sound between my butt cheeks and his crotch. He probably shot some follow up streaks of cum but I only felt the first one.
Now we lay here breathing deeply with him on my back, his face next to mine. The colored balls look like gum drops as I blink my eyes making myself dizzy. I try closing my eyes real tight but the colored gum drops now meld into a multicolored toddler's drawing. Oh I feel funny, weird like I have no stomach, like I'm hollow. The colors fade and I open my eyes to see a door with something drooling on it. Where's the door lead to, and should I go through it, and what is so heavy on my back? Someone says something from far away and the weight lifts off me as the most wonderful feeling in my ass, sizzling sexy sensations heighten, then begin decreasing. "I moan, "Nooo, don't do that," and something goes back inside my ass again as I go, "Aaaah."
More words are spoken although I think it's a foreign language, and then my rectum buzzes again... and it's empty just like that, gaping open and then nothing. Air drifts up my ass and I struggle violently to turn around with someone holding me. I realize my eyes are closed tightly again as I struggle. Then I hear, "Easy, calm down, Dylan, please. It's alright." I'm like, "Huh?" and I hear, "Open your eyes, it's me, Tom." Slowly I open my eyes, blinking rapidly. I'm on my side with Tom laying next to me looking at me with a concerned expression on his face, our legs wrapped on the driver's seat and steering wheel. Licking my lips, feeling embarrassed, my face blushes as I ask, "What, um, what did you say?" He slides to the floor on his knees, murmuring, "I said, take it easy. Calm down, it's just me. I think you were hallucinating a little. Are you okay?" I nod my head, then say, "Yes, I'm okay. Why do you keep asking me that?" He slowly pulls my legs over in front of me and I sit up in the seat, dizzy again.
Tom's looking up at me from his spot on the floor of the pickup, he grins, "Um, it's uncomfortable down here. Could you move over a little so I can share the seat with you?" I move towards the gear shift and he smiles, "The other way will be more comfortable for you. Let me deal with the gear shift." I nod and slide up against the door and notice for the first time that a nice breeze is coming in through the open window. Looking out I see just black and a glow in the distance over the tops of trees and try remembering where we are. Tom's cum has drooled out of my ass making the seat sticky under me, sticky and itchy. He pulls up my pants motioning with his head that I should lift my ass off the seat. I do that and he pulls up my underpants and cargo pants all the way up so they absorb the drooled spunk. Five seconds later the cum's soaked through and I'm sitting in wet again. He half stands, leaning over me so he can pull his pants up, saying, "That was absolutely fantastic, Dylan. Dude, what do you do with your ass? It was like gripping my cock. One of the top fuck's I've ever had. Awesome!" He plops down next to me, our sides touching, and gets his arm around the back of my neck again hugging me against him. "You're ass is like amazing. The best I've ever seen or, um, been in," and he chuckles pulling my head over to kiss the side of my forehead a long wet kiss. "Thank you, Dylan! Your boyfriend is the luckiest guy on the planet. I'm gonna steal you from him."
I'm still a little foggy but I feel okay. I'm relaxed, sexually satisfied, no guilty complex, just a dreamy kind of happy feeling. How much the VO and beer, or the weed laced with crack have to do with the pleasantly good feeling I'm experiencing I don't know. I know the sex was exceptional, but was it especially exceptional only because of the drugs? I don't know how to separate sex with Tom from the drugs. There were a few scary moments not knowing who I am exactly, or where I am, and then the pretty colored-balls hallucination was unexpected, but not horrible. It just took me by surprise. Tom asks, "Ya don't feel like talking yet, right?" I shake my head because I'm afraid if I talk it'll break this spell I'm in. It's a sensation not unlike dreamy states I've been in before. He wraps his other arm around me now and rocks us slowly side to side, quietly saying, "I won't forget this night. Unexpected awesomeness with you. Do you get 'hit' on all the time by both guys and girls?" My eyes are closed again wanting this feeling of contentment, a contentment without a single worry, to last except I already feel it fading away faster and faster. Soon I'm left with a wet ass and a slightly drunk feeling. Guess the weed has worn off already. It doesn't last long. Or maybe it's the crack that's quickly runs it's course.
After a minute or two of drifting back and forth in Tom's arms, I mumble, "My ass is wet. It's soaked through my pants." He laughs quietly, "Yeah, my orgasm was like gushing out of me. Felt fantastic too. All your fault of course." I'm like, "How so?" and he chuckles, "You're so sexy and hot I had the worlds biggest orgasm. And your ass is wet because you said not to use a condom. Dude, it was marvelous. I'm always fucking you without a condom. You're gonna have a lot of wet cum at the seat of your pants." I should argue, but I don't feel like it. Tom lets go of me, saying, "We might as well smoke my last joint, then I'll drive you home and you can change your pants if you want." Why can't I say 'no' to this kid? Then he asks, "Or would you rather change clothes first and we'll have the joint afterwards?" I look into his eyes. Big, dark blue eyes, and say, "You decide, Tom." He lifts my chin with a finger under my jaw, and says, "When can I meet you this Monday so we can get started?" Oh jeez, what to say? I go, "Um, ya know, I'm, ah, not sure about that." He says, "Yeah, it's something new for you. Let me have your cell phone number and I'll call you. Okay?" I nod my head figuring it'll be easier saying 'no' on the phone. I get my cell phone out and hand it to him, mumbling, "I forget the number. My head's a little rattled right now." He grins, "You're awesome," and hits a couple of button on my cell phone, then logs my number into his phone. Passing back my phone, he goes, "You want me deciding, so we'll get you some dry pants and then smoke this bitch after that. Okay?" I nod, "I guess."
Starting the pickup, he asks, "Where do you live?" I tell him and he backs up, turns around, and we're on our way. Tom drives for a while, then looks at me grinning, "I can't help myself, I gotta know how you think I fucked you. Did you get off good?" All tops want to be complimented. I give him rave reviews like I always do, but in this case I'm not so sure the drugs didn't have a lot to do with my rather glorious climax. I've seen things while climaxing before, like black dots in my vision and explosions of light occasionally, but I attribute that to an overloaded pleasure reaction. This time the colored floating balls was probably drug induced, not that it wasn't special and cool because it was. When we get to my condo I have Tom drive around back and we go in through the basement. Tom sees the barber tools I'd
brought home in case the opportunity to give some of the posse boys haircuts presented itself. It doesn't appear that'll happen this weekend though. Tom sees them and exclaims, "Ah ha! This explains your bizarre haircut," and I say, "Only partially." Upstairs he says, "Nice place," and in my bedroom, he goes, "There's only one other bedroom which I assume is your parents'," and I go, "Just my mom. My dad died young." He says, "I'm sorry to hear that. Um, do you and Jeffrey share this little bed?" I go, "No, he lives with his mom in the condo above us." Tom looks confused, but he's too polite to ask how we could have two mothers. I'm looking for another pair of cargo pants because I don't want to show up back at the Dicker's wearing different pants. I don't have another clean pair though. Hmmm, wait a minute! Chubby was with me when I bought these cargo pants last year and he always buys what I buy, so I say, "Come on, Tom, I'll borrow a pair of my brother's pants."
He rubs his nose mumbling, "Oh, your brother's. Sure," and he comes with me outside and up the steps to Chubby's condo. Getting the spare key from the mailbox, Tom's like, "No burglar would ever think to look in there for a key." I go, "Not yet anyway," and in we go. Inside he's like, "This is an identical layout to your condo." I say, "Yeah, except they obviously don't have a basement." In Chubby's room we step over discarded clothes on the floor and I find an identical pair of cargo pants hanging in his closet. These are exactly like the pants I'm wearing. Emptying my pockets on Chubby's unmade bed, then kicking off my sneakers, I drop my pants and underwear leaving them with the other clothes on the floor. Chubby won't know the difference. Tom's eyes are big, perhaps because I undressed right in front of him. I feel my ass, then go, "I gotta clean some of your awesome spunk off my butt," and he follows me into the bathroom, saying, "I can't believe I did it with you without a condom. Please tell me your boyfriend always uses condoms." Huh, as if Rob's the only guy I've ever had sex with. Wetting a washcloth, I say, "Nah, we never use a condom," and Tom chuckles, mumbling, "Thanks for reassuring me." I say, "We're clean and safe. You live in Framingham right?" He goes, "No, Weston," and I'm like, "That's too bad. The water in Framingham prevents sexually transmitted deceases." He mutters, "Bull shit. You might be too sexy for me... jesus! I did it without a condom, I can't believe it!" Drying my cleaned ass, I say, "Yeah, that's not normally a safe move." He laughs, "You prick, talking me into doing it bareback. It was super hot though," and from behind me he wraps his arms around me and rubs the side of his face against the side of mine, murmuring, "You're super sexy and hot. Please say you'll fit me in again sometime." I say, "Sure, Tom. Rob and I have a partially open relationship although it's closing little by little." He kisses my cheek quickly and lets go of me, "I'm glad there's still a little opening there because you're very special." I go, "Not really," and we go back in Chubby's bedroom where I get dressed.
Feeling much better with dry underwear, I go, "Okay, good. Thanks for driving me here, Tom, I appreciate it." He's like, "Yeah, well I gotta stay on your good side, don't I?" He's probably referring to his proposal that I deal his drugs on campus, which isn't happening, but there's no need for me to say anything about that now. On the way downstairs to my condo, he says, "So you and your brother have different mothers. I guess you have the same father then, right?" I go, Uh huh," and we go inside my place, down the steps, through the basement and out the door from the garage. Tom's saying, "Interesting, you and Jeffrey being what, half brother?" I go, "No, we're completely whole brothers." He starts to say something, but shakes his head instead and we get into his pickup. "Could we smoke the joint here?" he asks. I go, "No, not here." On the ride back, he says, "It has to be Monday that I see you at Merrimack, Dylan. It's my only day off from work other than Sundays." I go, "Okay, but call me first and tell me what time?" He smiles, "Sure thing. This will be fun, you'll see."
We park where we parked a half hour ago and Tom lights up, mumbling, "I should have brought more than three joints with me." He takes a hit off it and passes the joint to me. I do the same as him and feel the spike of crack right away. It's a really intensely nice feeling and I realize the smoke from the marijuana isn't a bad smell once you've experienced it a few times. "Good shit," I mutter, as Tom takes a big hit off the joint. With smoke drifting from his mouth, he goes, "Yeah, but you don't get this grade of weed too often. After smoking this you'd notice a big difference from most of the shit being sold on the street." We pass the joint back and forth. "Dylan, I'm gonna bring a dozen or so joints to leave with you when I see you Monday. No charge to you so you comp then to your buddies so they get a taste of the quality I deal in. Does that sound good to you?" Oh man, this joint is hitting me again. I'm laying back drifting pleasantly with my eyes closed. This is cool. We pass the joint back and forth until the joints only a half inch. Tom holds it to my lips, "You get the honors of finishing this off. Really suck on this fucker, Dylan, and reach that next plateau, that next level." I take a deep pull and hold it as long as I can in my lungs, and as the smoke pours out of my mouth I'm going, "Oooooh, yeaaah. Oooo, fuck, yeaaaah." I hear talking, but don't understand a single thing that's being said as my head lulls over to the side and I'm drifting in the atmosphere, looking for myself among the stars. Peacefully observing a shooting star, I'm fly towards the milky way. A song about the drops of Jupiter, and yeah, I'm looking for myself out there. Tom asks, "What's that you said about looking for yourself?" Ha ha, I must have said that out loud and I get the giggles. He says, "Were you singing something?" I giggle on until stopping abruptly, asking, "Where the fuck are we?" Squinting, I see the darkness around us and then Tom's face as he leans over looking into my eyes, asking, "You okay?" I lay back and close my eyes again, mumbling, "Yeah, I was drifting in the milky way, weren't you?" He laughs, "Shit, I wish I was getting the highs you're getting. Guess I'm use to this stuff by now." I nod my head feeling myself begin to come down. With my eyes still closed, I ask, "You sure you don't have another joint?" He goes, "Yeah, I just brought the three. Let me check the glove compartment." He looks, but doesn't find what he's looking for. He goes, "Fuck, that's all I got. Ya want a shot of VO?" I shake my head, "No, thanks."
I'm taking deep breaths until I'm pretty much off the mountain, "Jesus, that was something." Tom goes, "Yeah, I've tried smoking pure crack, but it's too habit forming so I made myself stop. Awesome high though! It's a fucking rush, let me tell ya. Holy shit. You need to try it once at least. I'll bring the bong with me Monday" Still laying back I glance over at Tom thinking he looks sexy. He looks back at me for a minute, then ask, "Ya wanna do it again. I'd sure like to." I grope myself, mumbling, "We better not. I don't have anymore cargo pants." He says, "I'll use a condom this time. No mess in your butt." I nod my head, "Yeah, I guess, lets do it, Tom. You sexy fuck, you're turning me on." He's feeling in his pocket for the condom, "Looks who's talking about turning somebody on." I say, "You dropped the condom packet on the floor." He looks down, "Oh yeah, there it is. Get your pants down," as he's doing the same. As he picks up the condom, he says, "Suck me off, would ya." I lean over and take his cock in my mouth and try doing as good a job of sucking him off as he did with my dick. Tom plays with my hair, mumbling, "What a fucked up haircut." I take his cock out of my mouth, "You're hurting my fucking feelings disparaging by constantly disparaging my unfortunate haircut." He chuckles and I go back to sucking his cock. I get a nice boner on him and then lick his nuts as another hard cock comes up tight against my stomach and a moan escapes my lips, "Ummm, mmm." Tom murmurs, "You're awesome, dude." Lifting his nuts I lick close to his asshole and he scoots forward on the seat so I can reach his asshole with my tongue. Rimming him gets him moaning and squirming on the seat like everyone else does when getting rimmed. It's so submissively sexy for me to do it to a guy. That thought makes me realize the joint has taken the place of a dominant sex partner. I got into the same dreamy state without anyone being dominant. Huh.
Tom abruptly sits back on the seat almost catching my tongue between the seat and his thigh. "Sorry, Dylan, I almost shot my load all over the windshield. Let me calm down a second." I stroke my boner sitting up and watching Tom rolls the condom on his long boner. He says, "Let me get to where you're sitting in the passenger seat. You can ride my cock facing me. That way I can see the expression on your pretty face when you climax." We rustle around chuckling at how awkward it is moving around in the tight space, but he manages to get in the passenger seat with me bending forward standing in front of him. "Nice boner, Tom," and he goes, "Yeah, he's a beauty, huh?" He holds my hips as I get a foot on either side of him and with his help I get up on the seat bending at the waist, the sides of our faces touching, with me holding onto his shoulders. He says, "We gotta do this naked, Dylan. You've got a killer body." I grunt, "Yeah, we will sometime." I drop my ass and the lubricated head of the condom pokes my butt cheek. He takes a hand from my waist and guides his cock to my asshole, "Sit on it now," he murmurs, sounding out of breath. I plop down too far and get impaled four inches on his granite hard cock as we both go, "Ooooh, fuck." Tom says, "Feels so good," and I slide the rest of the way down his boner, mumbling, "I'm still opened up from the first fuck," and we both start giggling. It's that fucking pot makes everything seem funnier than it is.
Exhaling a long breath, I sit all the way down on his thighs with us grinning at each other. His long boner way up my ass feeling good, really good. I mutter, "Tight, dude, but nice cock." He nods his head humping his hips moving his boner inside me. Taking a deep breath I lift up and begin fucking myself on his hard cock. I'm grunting, "Umm," each time I drop down on his boner. After a few pumps on his hard boner, I grip his shoulders and drop my forehead to his and continue squatting on his cock like that, our foreheads moving against each other. Then the sides of our faces come together, his arms go around my back and my arms go around his as I lift and drop moaning into his ear. "Oh my God this feels good." The he groans, "Do it faster," and I try obliging as my climax builds and builds. Tom begin humping up as I'm dropping down and we get in a frenzy, our faces sweaty together, "Aah, aaah, ash, ooh ohh, aah," me squeezing my arms around the back of his neck until, "Ooooh, fuuck," and my cock vibrates and then shoots a string of cum right against Tom's throat and, "Mmm, oooh," as another two little spurts of cum leave me limp. Tom's red in the face as he humps up against my buttocks groaning, "Oooooh, um, um." Then he stops humping all together and I sit on his legs laying against him while he runs his fingers lazily up the back of my head. We're like this, breathing deeply, for two minutes and then I lift off and sit next to him.
My heart's still beating too fast as I lay back and enjoy the fleeting sensations of orgasm. Tom takes another big exhaled breath, rubbing at my cum on his neck, and mumbling, "We might have something here, Dylan. I can't remember getting off this good." I ask, "Do you think it's the drugs?" He shrugs, "I don't know, but whatever it is we owe it to ourselves to see what's up with our sex together." I nod my head thinking that maybe Tom can be my side sex partner, except we're not really geographically suited for casual buddy sex. He's in Framingham and mostly I'll be an hour away from here in North Andover. Whatever, it was good. Then I'm back thinking about him dealing drugs. "Tom, why don't you worry about getting caught dealing?" He's like, "Oh I worry, of course I worry, but I'm not affiliated with any middle men here in the states and I only deal with guys I personally know to be, you know, regular guys. No street people who the narcs set up entrapment stings with." I take a deep breath, then say, "I'm sorry, but I won't do it, Tom. I just can't do it and I don't want to lead you on that I might 'cause I won't." He looks at me nodding his head, then quietly says, "That's okay, Dylan, we don't know each other really. Let me meet you Monday and we can at least get laid. Okay?" I shrug, "I'd like that, but you realize we're geographically fucked, don't you?" He says, "Dude, we'll take turns. You'll be home here in Framingham sometime and I have Sundays and Mondays off work so sometimes I'll drive up and we'll do lunch or something." I grin, "Yeah, okay, you have your people talk to my people and we'll do lunch... or something."
We get ourselves put back together, Tom cleans the cum off his body and throws the condom out the window, then gets in the drivers seat, saying, "I could use a beer. How 'bout you, Dylan?" I go, "Yeah, I could force one down." On the ride to the Dickers' place I'm wondering if Tom will still bring the dozen joints to leave with me Monday.
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
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Donny Mumford
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