DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR
Chapter 34
by Donny Mumford
That's the thing about life: ya never know what experience is waiting for you from one minute to the next. It could be something good or something bad, something unexpected or maybe even something you've anticipated or yearned for. It could be just about any fuckin' thing actually. My latest pleasant surprise was Tracy. Totally out of nowhere he asked me if he could fuck me. He explained he went both ways in high school before finally settling on a girl named Sandra, who he's had an exclusive relationship with for the past two years. Then she unexpectedly breaks up with him earlier this week. She'd fallen for a waiter from Bertuccis restaurant. Luckily for me that led to what can only be described as excellent buddy sex with Tracy. It was buddy sex in it's truest form, and it was hot too! Tracy is a sexual stud, a thoroughbred fucker! That dude knows what he's doing while taking no nonsense from his sex partner. I'll bet his girlfriend comes crawling back to him when she realizes not everyone can fuck like him. He and I will probably be doing it again, but I'll wait for Tracy to bring it up. Tonight was a good start to my newly reactivated alley-catting ways, and it happened in an unexpected and unlikely way. Such is life.
After flashing one last shot of scotch down in honor of our side sex, Tracy and I are now walking out of the apartment rejoining those on the crowded deck. Speaking confidentially, Tracy's telling me, "If anyone asks you why you were inside with me for ten or twelve minutes, tell them I needed you to do a couple of shots with me while I cried on your shoulder about Sandra dumping me." A nod of my head, "Yeah, that's good, Trace," as someone grabs his arm asking him something. Tracy stops to talk, but I continue on my way to the bar. Ryan calls me before I get there so I go over to him, Felix, and Felix's girlfriend, Linda. I'm like, "Yo, how's everyone doing?" as I take Ryan's beer from his hand and chug some cold beer. Ryan mutters, "Help yourself, bro," then asks, "What'd Tracy want?" I tell him what Tracy told me to say and everyone's shocked, "Tracy and Sandra broke up? You gotta be shitting me." I shrug, "He's real upset about it too. I guess the bitch fell head over heels for some stiff, a waiter at Bertuccis I think it was." The four of us talk about the break up a little bit and then Felix wants Ryan to explain to Linda how it is that Robby, Ryan, and me made our gay threesome work. Ryan tries to explain it, but Linda refuses to believe we're gay in the first place. She thinks we're putting her on, so she says to Felix, "Knock off the bullshit, buster, I didn't fall off a turnip truck yesterday, ya know," which gets Felix laughing. Another straight couple, friends of Felix and Linda, join us and shortly after that Ryan and I say we'll catch them later and we drift over to the bar for another beer. Swigging beer from our bottles we rejoin Chubby, John Beverly, and the three girls they're with. The next two hours we all drink too many beers and smoke too many cigarettes while recounting outrageous tales of misdeeds and adventures we've individually or collectively been involved in at college or high school. By collectively I mean some combination of Chubby, Ryan, and me. John Beverly, me, and Ryan have no history together yet. Well, I guess after tonight we've got one now. We tell our stories embellishing basic facts to increase the humorous aspects of the incidents. Many of the stories were unpleasant events when we were experiencing them, but looking back on them they seem funny. Everyone's caught the laughing bug, so there's lots of loud laughter... sometimes at things that aren't even funny. The three girls are basically our audience since us guys have heard most of the stories before. The girls are fascinated that Ryan and I are gay for one thing. They take our word that we are, unlike Linda. All three of the girls claim we're the only 'outed' gay guys they know, which surprises me for some reason.
We're all pleasantly drunk as each of us, including the girls, earlier spent another ten dollars each on tokens for beers. Eventually though we decide enough is enough. Chubby, who's usually the last one to leave a party, caves in first. His weakened condition caused by previous hangovers has finally caught up with him. He says he's gotta get some much needed sleep and we all begin saying our goodbyes. Before any of us actually leaves though, John Beverly and Chubby are getting the girls' cellphone numbers. Then everyone inexplicably decides that one last beer for the road makes the most sense. The thinking being, why carry the tokens around in our pockets when we can buy another beer and be done with the them altogether. After drinking that one last beer for the road Ryan and I become the first ones to leave. The last beer put Chubby past his tipping point and he's now officially too drunk to be held accountable for his actions. That's the thing about college, you get to be excused for any misdeeds by simply saying, 'Oh dude, I was shit-faced.' That's an acceptable explanation for just about anything short of murder. We say our goodbyes with hugs and so forth, then Ryan and me are on our way.
As Ryan and I walk down the steps he says, like it's an insightful discovery, "I don't know for sure, but it looked to me like your brother and John Beverly were trying to figure out which of the three girls is the odd one out." I mumble sarcastically, "Oh my god, Ryan, you're so observant. That's just one of the many reasons you're my hero, dude." He chuckles, mumbling, "Bullshit alert," and I get him in a headlock kissing the side of his head near his ear and we almost fall down the steps. In his Mini, he asks, "Aren't you going to nag me to fuck you?" I'm not sure if that's an invitation or a drunken test to see if I actually am agreeing with his suggestion we take it slow in our relationship this time around. Try a new approach since we sure didn't take it slow last time. Not sure if he's serious, I'm noncommittal, "What difference would it make if I nag you or not, you won't do it anyway." He says, "How do you know? I'm half in the bag now so maybe I'll change my mind." He's driving twenty-five miles an hour, which is the speed limit, but no one drives the speed limit on this road. We're gonna to get rear-ended if he's not careful. Anyway, Tracy fucked me so awesomely earlier tonight I don't have the dire horniness I had in Ryan's dorm room this afternoon, so consequently I don't need to jump at the mere suggestion he might be serious about us having sex tonight. He's already said ten times it won't be tonight, so I don't know what to think. The thing is though, to me Ryan's so temptingly sexy I find myself staring at him trying to figure how best to approach this. In my newly reactivated alley-catting handbook, pointer #7 calls for aggressive nagging for sex only in emergency situations or when the guy is especially irresistible. Otherwise let the other party ask for it because this gives you the upper hand. Hmmm, does Ryan qualify as irresistible though? He'd certainly qualified in my hornier condition, but now it's borderline. I'll try an unexpected tactical move and act like I can take it or leave it by saying nothing more. See if I can get him to ask me.
He drives a little further, then burst out with a laugh, saying, "You don't know whether to nag me or not, do ya?" I say, "Well, Ryan, I've been thinking my nagging days for sex with you are behind me. I have my pride ya know, and I've also regained my senses, my common sense especially, and then there's that world famous willpower of mine to consider. So I'm refusing to grovel for sex at my hero's feet." He laughs again, then says, "Damn, and I wanted to do it with you tonight." I go, "Okay, so do I!" Ryan laughs again, saying, "Well nag me then. I taught you how to nag last year." I go, "Pleeeeeease, Ryan, fuck me." We both start laughing, then he says, "It's so great having you back, Dylan. You're so much fun. I'm really lucky you're willing to give me another chance at the prize." I go, "I'm no fucking prize! Stop saying that! Um, where do you want to do it?" He shrugs, "Seems obvious. Marty won't be back until tomorrow night at the earliest. I know for a fact he has a christening to go to tomorrow afternoon. His sister's baby is getting christened and he's the Godfather, so he'll be there. You can sleep with me tonight." I go, "Me sleep in that shithole? You two never clean your room. There's cut hairs all over the floor, dude." He looks startled until I laughingly say, "Whoa, just kidding, dude. It's a great idea. I'd love to." This is so cool. Alley-catting again!!
Ryan says, "It's the beers that caused my earlier resolve in resisting the temptation of sex with you to fizzle out. It always seems to lessen as my alcohol intake increases, so now I'm thinking about maybe fucking you four times. Um, I mean between tonight, again sometime during the night, and again tomorrow morning." I go, "Duh! That's three times, dude, not four." He laughs, "Oh, okay we'll squeeze another fuck in there someplace, maybe while we're showering together." I yell, "Have sex in the shower of a communal lavatory? Are you out of your fucking mind?" He hiccups twice, then mutters, "We'll work something out." Hmmm, interesting development we got here. Then he adds, "I'm hopeful your contention that I'm uber sexy, cute, and sexually hot will be stronger after all that fucking." I mumble, "I can see that as a very real possibility." He goes, "Depending on how sore your ass will be, I assume. Hee hee, be careful what you wish for, Dylan. Maybe I won't be dominant like you want, but I can sure fuck you long and hard." I mumble, "Yeah, we'll just see about that. See if you can back up your bragging, stud." He goes, "Oh come on! You know damn well I can back it up. How about the other nights we've slept together." Huh, it's funny that Tracy's fuck is quickly fading into the background of my mind because now Ryan's got me squirming on the seat groping myself. He glances over, "Right, Dylan?" and sees me groping myself. He mutters, "Hot shit, you're horny for me... this is gonna be awesome! You're not the only horny one in this Mini." I go, "Show me no mercy, Ryan. Leave nothing left of me but my skin and bones and a pulsating ass." He laughs, "I maybe exaggerated a little about the frequency, but you'll be smiling when we're through." He pulls up to a four way stop sign and frowns when another car pulls up to the stop sign on the street to our left. I'm thinking, 'Shit! Ryan will sit at a four way stop sign until every fucking car in North Andover passes by', so I say, "Ya know, Ryan, you got here first by half a second, so you should be the one who goes first." He shrugs, asking, "You sure I was here first?"I nod, "Yeah, go, go," and he drives past the stop sign at the same time the other car does, and there's a collision with Ryan screaming, "No, no, no! Fuck!" Huh, I'll probably
get blamed for this, but it's the other car's fault. The driver of the other car gets out of his car screaming, "You teenage-drivers are all incompetent asshole's! See what you did." I get right out, taking a picture of the collision with my cellphone, yelling, "He was here first! You needed to wait. You're the asshole, not him."
Ryan gets out and looks at his right fender that crushed in against the right front tire. The other car's bumper did the damage although the bumper is
barely scratched. The guy's driving a Ford Expedition which is a large station wagon basically. A big ugly heavy vehicle against Ryan's cool little Mini Cooper and guess who got the worst of it by far? Another car drives up behind the Ford and honks it's horn. The Ford driver, a big middle age guy, says to Ryan, "Don't you fucking go anywhere," pointing at him menacingly. Ryan looks at me, "What should I do, Dylan?" The man gets in his station wagon, backs away from Ryan's Mini and pulls around it, parking at the curb. The guy in the other car, a guy in his mid-twenties, calls out to Ryan, "Get that tinker toy piece of shit out of the fucking street, numb-nuts." I say to the guy, like I'm trying to be reasonable, "Really? You're that big of a jerkoff, dude? He just had an accident, what the fuck?" He gives me the fingers pulling around Ryan's Mini and drives off. "Asshole!" I scream, then tell Ryan to drive his car over behind the Ford. As he does that, I'm calmly saying, "All you two need to do is exchange information with the other driver." Unfortunately, as we're rolling across the intersection a tearing sound is heard, like metal ripping. Ryan goes, "What's that?" I'm hanging out the window checking the wreckage and see the crumbled fender has cut into the tire. I feel my side of the Mini drop down a little as the tire goes flat. Oh joy. I'll save this news until we get rid of the other guy. I say, "I don't know. Just park behind that guy." The man from the other car, plus his passenger, a kid about our age, get out of the Ford as Ryan gets out to meet them. The man says, "I'm calling the cops," and the kid says, "Don't do that, dad, fer chrissakes, it's a fender bender. Don't get dipshit cops involved or we'll be here all night. Give this guy your info, and he give his to you. Let the insurance companies sort it out." The father's still pissed, probably because he knows it's his fault. He ran into Ryan and he knows it. I hate the police generally speaking, plus I've got a picture of the collision showing the Ford ran into the Mini Cooper. Ryan can send it to his insurance company making the police redundant in this situation. I say, "Yeah, listen to your son, lets get this over with." The man says to me, "You keep your mouth shut!" I mumble, "Another charm school dropout I see." The guy's son grins at me. Then I ask Ryan, "Do you have something to write with? We do not want to see any cops." Ryan's frowning and pissed-off as he gets a paper tablet and a pen out of the glove box. The major reason I don't want the cops showing up is Ryan's been drinking and that would make the accident his fault, plus other possible inconveniences for Ryan like a drunk driving charge and a night in jail. The bottom line is, it's the other driver's fault and he'll get the 'points' against his driving record. In Massachusetts you don't want 'points' on your MVR record because your insurance rates go up.
Ryan's like in shock that his 'baby' was in an accident. He said when we were going into Burton earlier tonight that he's never had a fender bender and he wants to be able to say that at the end of this night. Unfortunately the chance to say that is out the window now. The Ford driver has calmed down and he's civilly exchanging license and motor vehicle registration information with Ryan, both copying down the other's info. That takes five minutes or so. I light a cigarette checking out the Ford's passenger. Kinda an interesting looking lad about my size, eighteen or nineteen years old. He's wearing a hoodie with the hood up, which is such a sexy look. I go, "Yo dude, you still in school?" He glances over, "Yeah, I'm a senior at North Andover High, how 'bout you?" I say, "Sophomore at Merrimack," and he goes, "Really? You look like you're a junior in high school. But shit, that's cool." He's kinda cute in a weird sorta way, as he asks, "Do you mind?" taking my cigarette from my fingers, our hands sliding together. He smirks at me sexily while sneaking a drag off my cigarette behind his father's back. He lets the smoke drift from his mouth as he hands the cigarette back to me. I try for a cool expression, asking, "Any hot babes at North Andover High this year? You gettin' any?" He blushes, "Nah, I'm mostly just a dumb jock, not a ladies' man." I go, "Oh yeah, ya don't date, huh?" He snickers, "I didn't say that exactly, how 'bout you? You got a girlfriend?" Before I can answer, the kid's father says, "Let's go, Josh." Josh says to me, while giving me another cute grin, "See ya, Merrimack. Maybe I'll check you out at your college some time." Then he says his cellphone number giving me a 'look', and I tell Ryan to write it down. As the kid smirks at me from the passenger seat, I hold up my fist extending the little finger and the index finger giving the kid the old 'Rock on!' sign. He smirks, "Yeah, you too, dude." He's looking back at me as his father drives away. Hmmm, that was interesting.
Ryan's looking at the damage, "Oh shit! Look at that, my tire's flat too. Goddammit! This sucks, Dylan. What'll we do?" Staring at the departing hottie, I take a drag off my cigarette, then say, "Well, obviously you're gonna need to get the car towed, but it's probably too late to have it towed tonight. I'll call somebody to pick us up and drive us home. In the morning we'll take care of this little mess." He asks, "How?" I go, "We'll Google North Andover body shops and decide on one, then get it towed there. You got towing coverage, right?" He nods his head, "Yeah. Um, ya think it'll be okay leaving it here over night though?" Like we got a fucking choice. I say, "I don't see why not, Ryan, there's cars parked all along this street. These houses don't have garages, so it's street parking." He's depressed leaning up against his car and I'm thinking, 'Please don't fucking cry, Ryan'. How the hell can I hero worship a dude who cries because his car got dinged up? Ryan mumbles, "A fucking accident. My first one." I give his shoulders a hug, "It's not like this kinda thing doesn't happen fifty times a day, Ryan. It wasn't you who's at fault anyway. It's the other asshole's insurance that has to pay to make this baby look good as new." He shrugs, "Even so, it sucks because I won't have the car while it's getting fixed." Jesus Christ, my whining hero. I might need to rethink the hero part where he's concerned. I tell him to write down the streets of this intersection so he'll be able to tell the tow truck guy where the car is. We'll probably need to meet him here too, I guess. I'm a little bit hammered, so details aren't my strong point at the moment.
I call Chubby first of course, but he doesn't answer. Probably in bed by now. After four more calls I can't get anyone on the phone. That's mostly because guys aren't dumb, any call coming in this late means trouble of some sort so they turn their phone off. Finally I try Tracy and he answers right away. "Dylan, really? This soon?" and as he's chuckling, I go, "Not that! I need another kind of favor. Can you come get Ryan and me? We were in an accident and he can't drive the car." Tracy asks, "Jeez, I'm sorry, anybody get hurt?" I go, "No, just can't drive the car. We'll need to have it towed. The fender's embedded in the right front tire." He sighs, "Okay, where are you, I'll be right there." I tell him and ten minutes later he drives up and we get in. Ryan hasn't said anything from the time I started making phone calls. He's not saying anything in the backseat of Tracy's new BMW 3-Series convertible either. I tell Tracy the details of what happened and he's sympathetic, but mostly concerned if police were involved because Ryan was underage drinking, and that could have led back to Tracy's speakeasy. Relieved there were no police he's happy to drive us to Merrimack. Ryan gets out and thanks Tracy profusely. I wait to see if Ryan looks for me to get out with him. I figured our four-fuck night is off, and I'm right. Ryan says, "I'll call you tomorrow, Dylan. Thanks for helping me back there."
Tracy drives me the short distance to my apartment, saying, "Dylan, we gotta have a date." I go, "Nah, lets let it happen on it's own, Trace. It's hotter that way, but you're right that we do need to revisit that favor thing again only this time it won't be a favor. It'll be a mutual endeavor. You fuck good, dude." We're sitting in his BMW outside the front entrance of my apartment building, Tracy says, "Um, I just want to say I'm sorry I got a little rough with you during, you know, but after abstaining for two fucking years an amazingly strong urge came over me to share sex with another dude. It was kinda freaky-hot to tell ya the truth." I mumble, "Whatever. Yeah, it was hot, Tracey. And get as rough as you want." He looks at me, "Yeah? That's about as rough as I get, but it sure was hot topping you like that. Awesome ass, by the way, but you already know that. Thanks, man, you made my night." I'm right on the verge of suggesting we do it right now, but my recent habit of turning down opportunities for side-sex kicks in and I pat his shoulder, "Thanks for the ride, Trace, you're a lifesaver, dude." I get out and give a wave as he drives away. I'm a little pissed off at myself as I go up the stairs to our second floor apartment. Tracy's a new, hot and rough 'top' for me and I should'a followed through. Oh well, I'm getting back in the grove and so what if it takes a couple of days to get up to speed. In the meantime, not a bad start.
Inside the apartment I see Chubby's bedroom door is closed, so he's home safely for the night. I'll skip taking a shower until tomorrow morning 'cause
I'm wiped out. I take a piss, wash up, brush my teeth, and hit the sack. Using Robby's pillow I smell him on it while wondering how his date went with Danny Monday. Funny that I'm not even very jealous. I know who's first in Robby's heart and he's first in mine. Okay, I sort of inferred to Ryan he has a chance to get me to changing my mind about Robby and maybe replacing him with Ryan, but I only agreed to the possibility because I can't predict the future. How do I know it couldn't happen in the next three years? It's highly unlikely, I know that much. It's a very long long-shot, but I can't be positive Robby will still want to marry me three years from now, so a contingency plan is advisable. Tracy and Sandra's broke-up after going together for two years so nothing's guaranteed when matters of the heart are involved. After going together, more or less, for the last three years the odds are extremely good that Robby will want to marry me, but nothing is a one hundred percent certainty in this life. Nothing! Well death, but that's not life. Too many random happenstance's lurking around every corner to make long range predictions. What I'm basically telling myself is, I didn't lie to Ryan. I feel about him the way I said I did, but none of us knows for sure what's in store for us. Hell, Ryan might not even be interested in me one, two, or three years from now, or next week for that matter. Who the fuck knows?
I know one thing, and it's that I fall asleep quickly, and I know another thing... I just woke up. My wristwatch tells me it nine-thirty and my first inclination it to drift off back to sleep except I gotta help Ryan. Oh balls, but we need to get his car situation straightened out. As I lay here in bed, nursing a manageable hangover, I text Ryan to see if he's up yet. I guess it was those shots of scotch whiskey I had with Tracy that are mainly the culprits behind my hangover. I could have handled the beers okay. The shots of scotch were worth it though considering what they led to. Ryan text back that he on the toilet. I text him, 'TMI, call me'. Sober now it's obvious to me what the first thing he needs to do is file an accident report with his insurance company. When he calls me ten minutes later I tell him that. He says, "I did something better than that. I called dad and laid this mess on him. He took down all the information and he's gonna take care of everything for me." I mumble, "Spoiled rotten to the core, huh?" and Ryan says, "I owe you four fuck's, Dylan, if my memory isn't playing tricks on me. So am I still rotten to the core?" I go, "Let me rethink that." Ryan laughs, "You're awesome! Except for the accident, yesterday was the most fun I've had since the last time I hung-out with you." I go, "Oooh, Ryan, that's so sweet, dude. Thanks." He goes, "It's true too. Can you get a ride over here, I'm cleaning the place picking up shit and I've got this cheap vacuum cleaner sucking up all my hair that you cut off my head yesterday, as well as tiny blond clippings of your hair." I ask, "Are you saying you're sorry you got the buzz cut now?" He says, "No way, I love my buzz cut. I got up this morning and my hair was ready for the day. I'm a little hungover though." Jesus, hungover and cleaning his room. Yikes, hideous combination! I say, "I'll text you later and we'll make plans. Right now I'm gonna try to get more sleep. Good job transferring your problem with the car to the rents, by the way." He goes, "Yeah, that's what they're there for and it makes them feel I still need them." We end the call and I try to think of one time in my life I shoveled off a problem I had to my mom. Not a single one comes to mind.
Snuggling under the covers I'm hoping to go back to sleep and while I don't think I succeeded, somehow it's now after ten o'clock. Okay, what do I gotta do today?' Maybe sex with Ryan this afternoon and definitely sex with my
boyfriend tonight. Before that though there's a Patriot game on TV at one o'clock, so that's appointment TV right there. Love the National Football League games on Sunday afternoons. The four-thirty Sunday afternoons games are pretty fucking good too. And the Sunday night games at eight-thirty aren't bad either. Ditto for Monday night football and Thursday night football as well. Hmmm, I need a shower first, and I also need to do some studying I guess, and then there's that paper due for a class tomorrow, but other than that I'm free for the day. How the fuck am I gonna do all this and watch the games too? I could get up early tomorrow morning to study and do the paper then. You know, when I'm fresh first thing in the morning. Well, the actual first thing I gotta do right now is get out of bed and begin my Sunday. After a shower and other bathroom necessities I get dressed and make myself coffee in the kitchen. Then remember to take three Tylenol with a glass of orange juice. No cigarette this morning due to my minor hangover so I get the Sunday Globe and start reading the sports page sitting on the sofa sipping my coffee. Robby texting me interrupts a story I was reading about today's Pats game. Robby and I text back and forth telling each other about our nights last night, neither of us mentioning anything about sex other than saying we're both looking forward to us getting to bed early tonight. That's code for us having sex. We text about Ryan's car accident mostly, then Robby reminds me about the studying I need to do, and the paper due tomorrow that I already knew about. My idea about doing it tomorrow morning gets shot down my Robby, so apparently he hasn't fully embraced the concept that he's being too bossy in my life. Both of us end our texting with 'Love ya, me'. Sitting here a minute with the half read sports section in my hand, then I'm like, 'Fuck it!' Getting my study guide out of my backpack I start studying for the quiz. Not wanting to be the only sap studying on Sunday morning, I text Ryan that he better think about doing it too. He texts back, 'Can't, I'm cleaning'. I grin thinking, 'I'm telling Robby,' then laugh to myself. It's kinda fun having Robby as our leader, especially if he lightens up a little. I get into a serious studying frame of mind and every once in a while glance over to see if there's any activity in Chubby's bedroom.
During the next hour I go over the study material three time saying it to myself in my head and then out loud. Interspersed with that I get texts from, and send short text back to: Cory, Sonny, Bean, my mom, another one from Robby, and lastly one from Ryan saying he wants to fuck me. Huh, so it looks like the worm's turned, or however that obscure saying goes. Ryan's nagging me for sex now instead of me nagging him. Funny how that works. I text that I'm gonna watch the Pats game and invite Ryan to join me. We'll figure out when we can sneak in some sex during the game. Texting is awesomely better than talking on the phone. It's succinctly to the point, and yet you're still communicating with friends and relatives, but you're doing it in one tenth the time of a cellphone call. I don't tweet though. Haven't had the urge to get into that yet. I'm deep into studying when Chubby comes out of his bedroom wearing only his boxer shorts. "Where's the Tylenol, bro?" I nod at the kitchen bar where I left the bottle. Wow, what a hot body my brother has. Chubby takes three pills out of the bottle and drinks OJ right from the container swallowing them. "This sucks, Dylan. I might not survive this
Thanksgiving break. Hangovers like five days in a row and I only had a few beers last night." Yeah, closer to twelve. He plops down on the sofa next to me, saying, "Hug me, Dylan, I need a hug." Hugging him I give him a kiss on his cheek, then his lips. He mumbles, "It's awesome being loved by my brother, but why can't I find romantic love, bro? I wanna be in love, head over heels like you and Robby." I say, "Hey, that reminds me. You're talk with Robby about him being too controlling of me has him thinking about what you said, and more or less agreeing with you. He said he's going to apologize for scuffing at your advise." Chubby's like, "Oh, yeah? Huh, I forget what I said to him, but good for Robby." I go, "Yeah, he's not stubborn all the time," and Chub's like, "Yeah, it ain't easy admitting you're wrong, although I'm merely assuming that's true since I've never been wrong myself." I say, "I know that, Chub, you've always been right about everything. That's why you're my hero." He makes a face at me, then chuckles, mumbling, "Damn straight."
He lays his head back on the sofa as I'm lazily running my fingers through his hair, "You need a haircut, Chub," and he's like, "I'm too weak for that now. I'm gonna lay on this sofa and watch the Pats game, but before that I
need lots of food in my stomach to soak up the beer." I'm like, "What? Last night you claimed solid food would make you barf," and he mumbles, "That was a hard liquor hangover yesterday, and this is a beer hangover today. It's the volume with beer hangovers you've gotta deal with." I tell him, "Take a shower. That always make you feel better, and then I'll treat you to a big juicy Fuddrucker's cheeseburger and a milkshake." He nods his head, "An excellent plan. Are you gonna watch the game with me?" I go, "Of course! I think Ryan's coming over too." He goes, "Yeah? Maybe I'll ask John Beverly to join us. Hey, bro, do you think you can you get us a case of beer from Tracy. I mean without advance notice. If so, we'll get some dip and chips, some chicken wings and shit like that and have a guy's football afternoon. The four-thirty game today is good too. We'll get to watch the Jets get their asses handed to them by Manning and the Broncos." I'm like, "What the fuck, a case of beer? What about your hangover?" He shrugs, "I'll have to put on my big boy pants and suck it up, bro. We have obligations as college students to continually make one stupid choice after another. I'll deal with the accumulated hangovers tomorrow during classes at Merrimack. Why waste a perfectly good Sunday?" I mutter, "You make a lot of sense, Chub." He pats my shoulder, groans getting up, and then goes for his shower. I'm mumbling under my breath on the way to my bedroom, 'Yes, Rob, I'll do the paper for tomorrow now, like I'm told'. Sitting at my computer I reread the assignment, then begin typing what I think the professor wants to read. Halfway through it I stop to daydream, wishing by some miracle Chubby, Robby, Ryan, and me could live together forever. That would be a perfect life.
I finish the paper just as Chubby's coming in my bedroom looking better, and smelling good, saying, "Let's get that cheeseburger, Dylan." After printing out the paper I'm feeling so fucking good. I'm done the studying and now the paper is done too. Robby's right sometimes, I gotta admit that. Damn, I feel like the rest of the day is mine now. It's a good feeling. I drive the Jeep to Fuddrucker's with Chubby pretending his head isn't aching. Inside we're in line behind a couple of giggling girls. Why do girls giggle so much? Annoying! Chubby starts in with some corny pick up lines for the girls as I glance around the restaurant for eye candy of my own. I hear Chub go, "Hey, excuse me, ladies, I lost my phone number and I was wondering if I could use yours?" Giggle, giggle, giggle. Jesus! The girls are saying something and Chubby says, "Oh yeah? Well, would either of you girls be interested in going halves on a baby?" Giggle, giggle, giggle. Then he goes, "No, seriously, is there a baker in your family?" One of the gigglers asks, "Why?" and Chub says, with me mouthing it along with him, "You've got a nice set of buns, so I thought..." Giggle, giggle, giggle. Oh brother. No cute guys that I can see. Well, real cute guys are kinda rare. Then, when there's only the gigglers in line between us and the register guy, the guy who takes the food orders, there's a problem. Houston, we have a problem. The girls were giggling so much they never decided what they want for lunch. They can't make up their minds as they argue, giggle, and argue. After a couple of minutes, Chubby says to the pompous older guy at the register, "Hey, excuse me, mister register guy." Pointing at me, Chub says, "We know what we want and we've got money in our hands, so how 'bout...." The guy says, "Get back in line there. It's swell you know what you want, just wait your turn and let the girls decide what they want." Chubby says, "Yeah, that's cool, but why not..." The guy says, "Wait your turn!" Moron! Chubby sighs, "Yeah, sure thing, mister cockalorum." Then to me, "Mister big deal here, huh? He's probably ass-kissed his way from bus boy to working the register at Fuddrucker's and, whoa, he's still only in his forties so who knows... maybe assistant manager by the time he's fifty. Fucking jerk off." The guy's head snaps up, but now there are others murmuring behind us at the delay. The asswipe at the register, letting his tiny amount of authority go to his head, refuses to hurry the girls. Now Chubby's not doing his pick-up lines with the girls, instead it's, "Ladies, fer chrissakes it's not rocket science. Order something!" One of the girls turn around and says, "Fuck you, shorty!" just like that. Obnoxious, but I prefer it to the giggling.
We finally get to place our orders, but only after the asshole at the register says, "No smart ass comment from you my friend, or you can step out of line and go to Burger King or wherever. You college kids don't run things around here, you just think you do." There's simply nothing you can say to some people. This guy's about forty years old and he's pumping up his ego being an authoritative register clerk? Well, what's there to say, it's pathetic. We place our orders and pay. Then get sodas instead of milkshakes, as I ask Cubby, "Have you ever seen that guy here before?" He shrugs, "Nope, and I've already forgotten him. A forty-five year old man running a cash register at a food joint. Fuck him! I'm just glad it's not me." We sit with Scott Tinsdale and Ears Henderson, "Guys, whassup?" I ask, "You guys have any trouble placing your order?" Scott says, "You're referring to the dick with the Napoleon complex?" Chubby goes, "Yeah, the self-important little man at the register." They shrug, "Fuck 'em. Jeff did I hear you use that 'go halves on a baby' line?" Chubby chuckles, "Yeah, those twats weren't worth any heavy duty pick-up lines like, 'Babe, did you sit in a pile of sugar or something. You got yourself a sweet ass there." We all go, "Oh fuck... that sucks too." Ears says, "I'm working on this line. 'Hey, I'm hung like a tic tac, wanna freshen your breath?' Lots of eye rolling at that one. Scott says, "How 'bout you ask a chick, 'Do you know what winks and fuck's like a tiger?' She says, 'No, what?' and you give her a wink." I go, "How's that line working out for you, Tinsdale?" He's like, "None of Ear's or my lines have worked so far, but we're still only in the first semester, so we got time to score," and Chubby adds, "First semester of your sophomore year." Ears goes, "Yeah, we still got plenty of time. We'll score before graduating, I'm almost fairly sure of it."
The buzzer they gave us goes off indicating our foods ready. It's cooked to order here. That's one of the reasons we put up with simpletons like the guy at the cash register. The burgers rock! And, the 'Five Guys' burgers rock too, but the franchise in Peabody is too much trouble to get to. If 'Five Guys' ever opened a restaurant near Fuddrucker's it's be interesting to see who'd get the most business. Nothing like stiff competition to bring down prices and improve service. The rest of the lunch conversation never elevated itself above the level of corny pick-up lines, but that happens sometimes. Especially if your dinning companions are Scott and Ears. The greasy food works miracles though and my hangover is merely a slight annoyance after eating. Ryan text that he needs a ride to our apartment and John Beverly text saying he'll join us during the first quarter sometime. Chubby and I are on our way to get Ryan now. When we pick him up we'll go to Tracy's and I'll try for a case of beer. If that doesn't work, we're out of luck. It'll be Cokes and finger food. Chubby says, "I desperately need a couple of beers to subdue this hangover. A temporary fix that I'll pay for tomorrow probably, but I'll worry about that then, ya know." Yeah, but I'm mostly wondering when Ryan and I will have a chance to screw. It's been more than two months since we've done it together and I've got the sexual hot's for him. Looks like he's not just a fleeting whim of mine. Still, it could be only temporary heat for him because it's been so long between any sexual activity with him and my brain has this stored up information about how extremely hot we once were together. Not easy to forget something that incredible. It's true his namby/pamby behavior about the accident last night took some of the shine off the way I was seeing Ryan, but there's something indescribable about him that strikes me as sexy as hell. I don't know what it is exactly, but I can say the same for Bean. It'd be nice to know what it is in both cases, but it's not imperative that I know. They're still sexy whether I know why or not.
At Merrimack Chubby gets out letting Ryan sit in the middle. Chubby wants the shotgun seat and normally I don't like sitting in the middle either, that is unless the guy on one side or the other is cute. Ryan gets in mumbling, "Hey, Chubby," and then scoots over to me squeezing my thigh close to my nuts, "Hi, Dylan!" The back of his hand drifts over my pecker and then pushes down on it accidentally on purpose, making me grin. Ryan still hasn't shaved his sparse beard and it looks sexy on his baby face, especially the scraggily whiskers at the bottom of his chin. He goes, "Dad called, the car's all taken care of. I've got the name of the body shop, the tow guy got the spare key from the magnetized little box on the engine mount, and a week is all it'll take to fix my Mini. A replacement fender from the factory and a new tire." I ask, "Feeling better?" He goes, "Yep," then rests his hand right on my cock and balls supporting himself as he leans over to my driver's side window waving his other hand, then giving the finger at some kid who's giving the finger back. Ryan sits back, "That's Jim Target from my dorm. He's a funny dude. We always give each other the finger whenever we see one another, no matter who we're with." I mutter, "How mature of you and Jim." I back the Jeep up and then drive towards route 114. Ryan asks Chubby, "Who the Pats playing today?" He goes, "The Ravens. Ya wanna chip in for a case of beer and some snack foods like chicken wings, chips and dip, and what else should we get, Dylan?" I shrug, "Pizza?" He goes, "John Beverly's bringing two pizza's. I go, "Holy shit, there's only four of us. That's enough food already." Then I ask something that's been on my mind, "Hey, Chub, how come everybody calls John by his first and last name? I do it most of the time myself." He goes, "Fuck if I know. Ya get a name or a nickname and it sticks for reasons unknown. He's John Beverly, that's about it." I go, "That clears it up for me."
At Tracy's the kid who collected money for tokens at the top of the steps last night is sitting on the deck drinking a beer and smoking a cigar. He waves at me as I get to the stop of the steps, "No, dude, it's a no go today. Pats game. Tonight around eight Tracy will probably open the deck." I say, "Yeah, well I don't want to hang out here anyway. I want to buy a case of beer. What brand does he have for sale? Still the Corona?" He says, "No good. Ya gotta order it ahead of time. No exceptions to the rule, sorry, dude." I guess he forgot my name since last night. I know I've forgotten his. I say, "Do me a favor, tell Tracy it's me who wants to buy a case. We're tight, dude." He shrugs and gets up slowly, like he's eighty years old, "Okay, Dylan, but it ain't gonna do you any good. Hard and fast rule, ya know. If he does it for one..." and he spreads his hands. I guess he does remember my name. He saunters inside and three minutes later comes out carrying a case of Corona. He passes it off to me, mumbling, "Fucking rules are meant to be broken I guess. He said he'll collect whenever he sees you, it's $30.00. Guess because this is the last case of Corona, it's bargain priced. I don't know what the fuck's going on though, he was selling this same beer for $45.00 a case yesterday." I go, "Yeah, is that right? Thanks, man, appreciate it."
Carrying the case down the steps I'm thinking I could collect on a $45.00 case from the other three guys, but then decide I'd rather brag how I got a special deal from Tracy. That's what I do. Chubby's laughing, "Sonofabitch, I didn't think you could get a case without ordering ahead. How'd you do that? And for $30.00. Damn! Way to go, Dylan." We get a big bag of chips, pre-made onion dip, and assorted chicken wings at Stop & Shop in their prepared food section. There's hot wings, barbecue wings, fried wings, and Chinese wings. Twenty-four total. Back to the apartment by ten minutes to one. We've just had lunch so the snacks won't come out until halftime probably. The beer's cold and after we each grab a bottle, Ryan put the rest in the refrigerator and I collect six bucks off him and Chubby, then Ryan and me give Chubby eight bucks each for the finger food. We'll collect from John Beverly when he gets here. The wings and pizza will be reheated in the oven when we're ready to eat. Twenty-four wings and twenty-four cans of beer. A nice even half-dozen for each of the four of us. The game's on and we watch it while kibitzing about the various good and bad plays and about other stuff in general. For important games I like to watch it with as few other guys as possible. This is one of sixteen regular season games and while they're all important some are more important than others depending who the Pats are playing. For playoff games I like to concentrate on the game so the fewer guys I'm watching it with the better. If the Pats aren't in the game I'm watching there could be fifty guys watching it with me and I wouldn't care.
John Beverly comes with two pizzas and his roommate at the beginning of the second quarter. Well that fuck's us up as far as the even split with the chicken wings, but since the roommate brought a six pack of beer with him, the split on the beer is still an even half-dozen apiece. The roommate is introduced with casual fist bumps for all. His name's Christopher. One of those guys who insist on his proper name, so of course Chubby immediately calls him Chrisy, which gets a frown, but no actual complaint from Christopher. He's tall with high cheek bones and a nose that's too large for his narrow average-looking face. Brown hair cut in sort of a helmet cut like some woman barbers at Supercuts will give you if you're not specific about what you want. He's quiet which is normal since he doesn't know us, so that's cool. John Beverly's not quiet though. He's very outgoing which he'd need to be if he's hanging with my brother. I like John Beverly alright and if Chubby likes him I gotta think he's cooler than I perceive him to be the few times I've been in his company. Last night he was pretty good though. Chubby reheats the wings and one of the pizzas at half time. I get out the chip and onion dip which we all finish before the other stuff's reheated. "We should have gotten two tubs of onion dip, Chub," and then Christopher wants to know why I call my brother Chubby. To me Chubby says, "I was the one who said we should get two packages of dips, Dylan," and to Christopher he says, "Chubby's short for Jeffrey. It's just an abbreviation, Chrisy." John Beverly laughs spitting little pieces of potato chips on the mostly empty dip bowl, so Chubby says, "You can have the rest of the dip, John Beverly."
Everything, including the second pizza gets eaten during the third quarter and some of us grab a cigarette on the balcony before the start of the forth quarter. By the end of the game we've all had four beers each. There's another game to watch so Chubby, John Beverly and Christopher go out to get more beer. Christopher has two more six packs in his dorm room, plus they're getting another order of chicken wings for the four-thirty game. When all three of them leave, Ryan and I have another cigarette on the balcony talking about classes we have tomorrow. Ryan says he did the paper that's due, but he still needs to study for the quiz. I'm telling him he needs to be more disciplined about his time management. I get a kick out of giving him the little lecture I heard from Robby earlier. As I'm doing that he's grinning because he knows I'm bullshitting him. I keep rubbing a couple of my fingers against his barely visible beard on his chin and upper lip. He reaches up and takes my hand holding it at his side, saying, "Don't do that unless you wanna get me turned-on for some reason." With my other hand I push his glasses up his cute nose, then rub his chin again smirking at him. "You brat," he says, "I think you need a spanking." Leaning fully against him now, my head leaning down so my nose bumps his, then I lick across his lips. He puts a hand behind my head and holds it there as he gives me the special kiss he saves only for me, making my cock get very tight. We make out for a couple of minutes with my body pressing his against the railing. He's still holding my hand, but I'm using my other one to squeeze his left butt cheek.
Taking a deep breath, squeezing my hand, Ryan gasps, "Ya think we have time?" I nod my head, "It'll need to be a quickie. We can do it in my bedroom."
He leads me down the hall to my bedroom and I click the lock on the doorknob. Ryan jerks on my hand continuing into the bathroom where I click that doorknob lock on that door too. He lets go of my hand and leans me over the sink keeping one hand on the back of my head. Reaching around me he undoes the button on my skinny jeans and pulls them down off my ass. My cock, almost hard, flops against the front of the sink. "SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! on my ass with Ryan's hand. My butt cheeks are red and stinging and it quivers a little. Then again, "SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! and I squirm against the sink, my cock now a steel rod. I hear Ryan rustling his zipper down and out comes his semi-hard cock. He grips behind my neck pulling me around roughly. I'm still bent at the waist as he's pushing my head down, my face against his cock, balls, and pubic hairs. He moves my face against him and then pushes his cock around my face, then into my mouth. I suck it eagerly moaning quietly, deeply aroused. He's got a hand on either side of my head pulling my head back and forth now, fucking my mouth with his long eight inch fat cock that bones-up hard, then harder. Pulling my head away now a string of his precum and my spit is connected from the head of his cock to my lips. It breaks away from his cock and drifts down across my chin onto my neck.
Ryan pushes me over the sink again, my forehead on the back rim of the sink between the two spigot knobs, and the top of my head against the tile on the back splash plate. Ryan's hand is on the back of my head holding it down, my boner's pressing up between the front of the sink and my stomach. He uses a hand on my sweatshirt to pull it up around my neck. His hand goes under the shirt pinching my nipples as he leans over me, his boner sideways against my left bare-ass butt cheek. Painful pinching my nipples and then rubbing them between his fingers until they're sticking out hard and sore. He backs off a little so I lift my head and he shoves it back down with a, "Boink," sound as my forehead slams against the rim, and a gruff, "Keep it down!" from Ryan. He lines the wet head of his boner to my asshole and humps it in past my sphincter. Ryan goes, "Aaaaah, oooh, ooh," his body shaking a little, then, "Mmmm, I've missed your ass." A squirt of cum spurts from my cock as my shoulders shudder, my butt cheek still burning and stinging, my nipples tender and aching. Ryan lays on my back, his hands gripping my shoulders as he slowly pushes that big hard boner of his up my rectum spreading the walls and setting off an avalanche of delicious sexual sensations. Ryan dominates so awesomely without even trying or realizing he's doing it. My anus is stretched tightly, sizzling nerve endings sparking and making my body shudder with sexual pleasure as precum drools out of my cock. The fingers of his hand are in my short buzz cut hair, pushing my head down on the sink's rim as he withdraws his boner and driving it right back up my ass squishing my boner against the front of the sink again as he leans against me tightly.
Rotating his hips, Ryan quietly moans, "Mmmmmm, ooooh, yeaaah, mmm," and then begins a hard fast fucking, "SlapSlapSlapSlap!" sounds echo in the tile bathroom. More pressure on the back of my head as Ryan's grunting with the effort of slamming his hard cock up my ass. He's so much stronger than he was last year, and rougher too. Constant pounding of his long fat boner up my ass as his scent invades my consciousness and I'm feeling the kind of sexual heat I only get from him. I feel dreamily dominated as the sexual trance of luscious submissiveness descends over me and we float together with the familiar sounds of fast hard anal sex, "SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP!" It's all I hear even though I'm moaning with pleasure constantly. Ryan's hammering into me jostling me against the sink, my body limp with a submissiveness to Ryan taking over completely now. "SLAPSLAPSLAP," echos along with Ryan grunts and moans, his boner relentless pounding up my ass. Only two minutes of ecstasy before my quickly building climax is at the breaking point and my body stiffens until it's taut now like a steel wire. I squeal embarrassingly with my back arching and cum pumping up splashing against my stomach with all it's warm creaminess. The sensation at that instant, so overwhelmingly deliriously intense, has every nerve ending in my body screaming for attention and I almost black out in space somewhere. I'm shaking with the incredible sensations swirling around my groin and rectum with my throbbing cock the center of my world. Sensations fade and I'm limp again, but still hearing the, "SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP," sounds of Ryan's hips smacking against my buttocks. My rectum is the center of pleasure now and I hope it is for a long time, but Ryan groans as he plasters himself against me humping, humping, humping and grunting, "Aaah, aaah, oooh," and them my insides are coated with his massive orgasm of creamy young spunk and it's so slippery now inside me as he again slides his cock back and forth in my ass. Deep breathing from Ryan, then he pulls his cock out and cum runs down the back of both my legs. He lets go of my head after one last push on it, smearing some toothpaste or soap that I must have splattered there this morning. Ryan's still breathing deeply as I remain bent over the sink hoping he'll slide his cock back up my ass, but I hear him rolling toilet paper off and I look back to see him wiping his cock with it.
His face is bright red as he glances at me, shaking his head slowly, saying, "I can't believe that I forgot how awesome it is fucking your ass. It's so different, and maybe it's just because of how I feel about you, but it sure gets me off. Wow!" I standup feeling his cum drooling all the way down to the backs of my calves now. He grins at me, and goes, "Holy shit! I gotta clean you up, boy." He wets a washcloth and wipes my forehead, then my own cum off my stomach and drooled down around my balls, and finally he gets the back of my legs and my ass. After drying me off, "Smack!" on my ass, "All cleaned-up, Dylan, and one last smack on your awesome ass for good luck." I mumble, "You're pretty awesome yourself," as I pull my pants up, adding, "I almost passed out when I climaxed! And, hey, you were fantastically dominant too. Waddaya mean you don't do the dominant stuff anymore?" He shrugs, "I didn't expect to, but you bring it out in me I guess. Ya know, you're the only guy I've ever been a 'top' for. Maybe most guys have an ass that fuck's as good as yours. Hard to believe though," I go, "I have no idea, but of the few asses I've fucked each felt different. I'm not an authority though and I'm never gonna fuck my own ass so I'll never know how it compares with others." Ryan ruffles my buzz cut hair, asking, "Isn't it like awesome you and me are back together?" I nod, "It sure is."
We walk back to the living room and see the TV talking heads are still analyzing the four-thirty game so we grab fresh beers and go out for another cigarette. Ryan's got a concerned look on his face. "Something wrong, Ryan?" He shrugs, "Marty's gonna know. The past two months he's kind of got me wrapped around his little finger and he can read me like a book." I go, "Ah bullshit to that. Just don't say anything." He makes a 'face', "He'll know." I go, "Not from me he won't. Don't fuck up what we've finally got going between us again. That'll piss me off, Ryan." He takes a deep breath, "I'll try not to, are you nuts. Of course I won't do it on purpose. I loved fucking with you. If you were my boyfriend I could give up the thing with Marty, but he gets me off pretty hot too. I just don't know." Then Chubby, John Beverly and Christopher come barging in the apartment talking loudly and laughing. Chubby waves at me yelling, "The Jets/Broncos game is kicking off." Ryan and I exchange grins and he gooses my ass as he follows me inside.
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com (mailto:thinat20@yahoo.com)
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Donny Mumford
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