Dylan's Sophomore Year

DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR

Chapter 40

by Donny Mumford

Bertuccis restaurant is crowded on a Saturday night and I suspect a number of Merrimack students are here treating themselves to a dinner away from the dining hall where they've eaten all week. My buzz-headed companions, Dougie and Jamie, are hungry and so am I. We'd need at least two pizzas if I go that route, but pizzas here are $19.00 each, plus extra for each topping. Frankly they're not worth half that if you ask me. I decide on more sensibly priced pasta dishes that come with rolls and a big bowl of the house salad. We all order the so-called 'old fashion' lemonade too. It cost $3.50 a glass, so not an old fashion price, and Jamie guzzles his first glass down and orders a second glass. I give him a stared 'look' and he laughs, then goes, "We'll treat next time, okay?" and Dougie mutters, "Yeah, in the dining hall." Fuckin' freshman! We have a middle-aged waitress so there'll be no ogling of a cute waiter tonight. The pasta taste real good though and then, what the fuck, we all get desserts too. The final bill is $68.50 and we didn't have a single adult beverage. That's what usually jacks-up the bill at dinners Robby and I have at our restaurant, Dino's Italian, the one that serves us cocktails. I leave four twenties on the check to cover our meals plus extra for a mediocre tip for mediocre service. Jamie and Dougie are appropriately appreciative at least, plus I get to feel like a big shot picking up the check. During dinner they decided they want to go to the mixer with me. They claim I'll teach them what to do at a mixer. Jesus, these two nineteen year olds are more like fifteen or sixteen year old boys, but whaddaya gonna do. It's only seven-thirty, which is too earlier to go to the mixer, so I take the guys to Tracy's first. We'll do some front loading before we head over to The Knights Of Columbus hall. It wouldn't be cool arriving at a college beer event totally sober.

During the ride to Tracy's, I say, "Fer chrissakes guys, what do you think I can teach you about mixers? All you do is basically stand around drinking and breaking each other's balls, watching for someone to make a jackass out of themselves so we can rag on them. They'll be music so some students will be dancing, but we mostly just tie a load on and see what happens, and something always happens." Jamie asks, "Like what?" I go, "I don't know, maybe an opportunity to fuck someone new, or at least flirt with someone sexy, or maybe a fight will break out. It's all about reacting to whatever happens. Anyway, mostly mixer's are for the sex-starved guys and girls hoping to get lucky in love. You two don't need to worry about that of course; yo u're far from sex starved. Jamie says, "You don't need to worry about it either," and I go, "Yeah, well, don't worry your cute heads about me." Jamie says, "Still, we're sticking with you like gum on your shoe." I add, "Okay, but only until you're comfortable, and then you need to mill around hoping to run into one of those so-called straight dudes you told me you perv on in class. Strike up a conversation with one of them about the class or the professor. Whatever you have in common, and see if any rapport develops between you. You may be surprised to find that everyone you think is straight isn't entirely straight. There are guys in the closet itching to be invited out, but without the balls to leave their hiding place on their own, so they may need a little push. Give then the opportunity they crave and you might experience the delights of sexual variety. Also, be on the lookout for bi guys. Sure they fuck girls, but they might like to change sides for a night every once in awhile, especially if they're hammered." Jamie and Dougie cling to every silly word I say like it's the gospel. I only wish I had more to offer them in the ways of the world, but I don't. Half the time I'm not sure what to do myself. Like with that London guy, Freddie. I'm not sure if I'm coming or going around him. He may be coming on to me, or he may just be having fun at my expense leading me on without any intention of coming through. A cock-teaser type guy. If the latter is true I'll be very disappointed because I want to believe he's a good guy, not some homophobic prick. Hey, maybe I should explain to the boys how over the years I've learned to fake my way through certain awkward situations Yeah, but I can't fake my way through all of them, and I wouldn't know how to explain the faking part to the boys anyway.

I park the Jeep a block away from Tracy's and we walk back with me telling them, "The best advice I can give you is don't worry about what others think. What do you care what strangers think? Be yourself and have fun as long as you're not hurting yourself or others, and forget about the rest of your

concerns." Gee, I wish I could follow that advice myself. I'm much better at handling awkward situations than I used to be, but I've got a ways to go to reach Chubby's level of not giving a shit. He's never cared what others think about him. He's a confident individual alright, but really cool about it too. Robby's more like me. As the three of us start up the stairs to the speakeasy, Jamie asks, "How much does it cost?" I say, "It's twenty-five bucks, but that covers all the beer you can drink and they'll be free stuff to eat too. I don't know what it is exactly, but they'll have some kind of food or snacks." He says, "Yeah, I know that, I saw the posters for the mixer. I mean here at Tracy's." I go, "Oh, it doesn't cost anything here, except for buying beers. He charges a very reasonable two dollars a beer. Sometimes there's shots of liquor available and they're priced according to the whiskey Tracy has on hand that night. I rarely do shots myself."

There's some guys and girls in front of us, but when we get to the top of the steps it's Tracy who's selling tokens tonight. He and I do a normal quick-hug for our greeting, just like we'd do even if we weren't fuck-buddies. "Yo, Dylan, whassup." I'm like "Hey, Tracy, where's your bouncer tonight?" He says, "Don't need him, this place will clear out pretty much in the next hour or so because of the mixer." I ask, "You going?" and he gives me a sexy look, cryptically asking, "Should I go, Dylan?" I shrug, "Yeah, why not," and I introduce Jamie and Dougie. Tracy rubs both their heads, "Where'd ya get these buzz cuts?" I go, "I'm the barber, Tracy. I do it for fun, not profit." Tracy has a ponytail so he has very little need of a barber himself. He says, "Everything should be for profit, Dylan." Then he asks the guys why he hasn't seen them here before. Dougie's shy, but Jamie's like, "You'll be seeing a lot more of us now, Tracy. This is cool up here." Tracy says to me, "Hey, listen to this: I got guys coming Monday from a functions company. They do outdoor affairs like wedding and company outings. They're gonna put like a tent roof over the entire deck with heavy plastic siding. They'll be three posts going down the middle of the deck holding the thing up so it'll be like a cathedral ceiling. The snow will slide off it. That plus my space heaters and I'll be able to stay open all winter this year." I go, 'Sweet!" Some other guys are behind us so I buy twelve dollars worth of tokens and we move out of the way. These tokens will buy us two beers each, so we head over to the table that serves as the bar to buy our first beers. Two beers each should be enough front loading considering we had two beers each earlier. The guys say, "Thank, Dylan," like I'm treating then here too. I hold my hand out, saying, "You're welcome. Four bucks each, please, your free ride ends here." Jamie gives me a five and as I'm giving him a dollar change, he says, "Next you'll be charging us gas money for driving us over here." Fucking freshman!

It's Corona beer again tonight. I like Corona better when it's served with little slices of lime. Ya force the lime slice through the top of the bottle and let it float around in the beer. That's cool. We take our beers to the normal spot my buds and me hang-out at, meaning against the railing. None of my guys are here tonight though. Chubby's on a double date with John Beverly, and Robby's in Boston with three teammates. And who the fuck knows where Ryan is. He's probably hogtied in his room being whipped by fuckwad Marty. I hope to see them all at the mixer later though, even fuckwad because that'll mean Ryan's there too and I can see that he's alright. I don't know what that fuckwad roommate of his is capable of, but I'm about fed up with it. It's hard to continually feel sorry for someone like Ryan who time after time makes the same mistake, but at this point I'm still feeling bad for him. Him and his latest mistake for a dominant sex partner... it's like he can't help himself. Jamie says, "Looks like Dougie and I are gonna be upping our beer consumption considerable now that we've been exposed to Tracy's speakeasy." I ask him, "Do you like beer?" Jamie's like, "Not particularly. The first one's the worst 'cause it tastes like shit, but after that I sort of get used to the taste. The fun part is getting high, not the taste of beer." I go, "You can get high from weed too. Ya ever tried that?"Jamie's like, "We're not retards, Dylan, yeah we've smoked pot, I brought some from home. but I don't know where to get it on campus." I go, "That's what I'm trying to tell ya. You gotta get out more and mingle. Mingle here at Tracy's, or mixers, or whatever. You see someone smoking a little weed, ya strike up a conversation. Just walking around campus you can hook up with different people. Establish contacts." Those are all the things I've never done. I probably wouldn't know anybody if I didn't have my roommates hooking me up, but being I'm Jamie's and Dougie's so-called sex guru I gotta pretend to be confidently cool. Maybe it'll give them some confidence even if I don't have a hell of a lot of it myself. One thing's for sure, these two are way ahead of the game sex-wise, so that puts them up on most of Merrimack students. Now they just need to expand themselves socially and they'll have an awesome college experience. At least that's what I've heard.

As I'm sharing my limited wisdom with Jamie and Dougie someone comes up behind me and gooses my ass. Hoping it's Ryan I turn around grinning and see Travis Hunter grinning back at me. Trying not to drop my smile immediately, I go, "Travis, dude, wassup man?" He goes, "Just doing some front loading before the mixer. I mean why be smart about it, right? Sure, I could go there and drink these beers for free after the cover charge. A cover charge I'll be paying later anyway, but why do something smart like that when I can buy beers here for two bucks a pop." I go, "Yeah, it's the camaraderie thing being with hordes of your fellow students, that's the charm of affairs like mixers, but ya can't face that environment totally sober, therefore the front loading." He goes, "Bingo, spot on. Who are your friends here, Dylan? A couple of freshman, I'm guessing." Hmmm, I've suspected Travis of being a closeted gay from back in our high school days. He was in my graduating class but we didn't really hang out together. We knew each other casually and I suspected him of coming on to me occasionally back then, sort of testing the waters so to speak. He'd say things that could be interpreted as sexual innuendos and he has a habit of getting in my space a little bit while being overly friendly and touchy, especially considering we weren't and aren't actually friends. He acted the same way towards me on occasion last year at Merrimack too, and now he's just goosed of my ass and his face is like four inches from mine. I might call his bluff one of these days and ask him if he wants to blow me because he is kind of cute, although perhaps a tad too sneaky to suit me.

I introduce Travis to the boys and Travis is all grins rubbing their backs and joking about their buzz cuts. After rubbing their heads, his hand lingers on their heads too long. It definitely could be considered inappropriate touching by some. Not so far by Jamie and Dougie, although they do look a bit flustered, but then they're just learning the 'game'. Then Dougie glances at me frowning a little when Travis' hand lingers on the back of his neck too long. Jamie's hasn't noticed the touching so far, probably because he's busy acting the 'mister personality' role asking Travis how he knows me, and what was it like for him during his freshman year? Giving the back of Dougie's neck a squeeze, Travis describes some of his personal difficulties in adjusting to college life as a freshman. I'll give him credit for being self deprecating, telling embarrassing stories on himself. He states the obvious too, "I'll tell you something you probably already know: there's a world of difference between living at home and commuting to high school compared to campus life where you can do whatever you feel like mostly." No shit, Sherlock. Jamie's nodding his head like he's just heard something new. Travis ask Jamie how he met me, and Jamie tells him about Dougie and me meeting in Stop & Shop back back in Framingham. Travis looks at me grinning, exclaiming, "Wow, that's quite a coincidence, Dylan. Meeting young Dougie here and you both going to Merrimack and all." I shrug, "Yeah, how 'bout that." And then Jamie tells Travis about me helping him and Dougie become roommates. I'm guessing Jamie's following my advise to get involved more socially, which is fine except I don't trust Travis all that much. Travis says to me, "You've been quite helpful to these two good looking guys. If you, um, need any help with that just let me know." Yeah, right.

To put an end to Travis' interrogation of Jamie, I interrupt by asking Travis, "Where's your roommate, Harry Black, tonight?" He goes, "Oh, Harry's over there telling jokes that he can't remember the punch lines to. He's probably doing it on purpose, forgetting the punch lines I mean." Jamie asks, "Why's he do that?" Travis chuckles, "Because he's Harry and he's drunk, as usual." I'm always curious about that, "Ah, Travis, how the fuck do you put up with him being drunk all the time?" Travis goes, "Oh, Harry and I are tight, I mean we're closer than brothers. I think he's funny and he's good natured too. He'd give you the shirt off his back." Yeah, probably with some puke on it. I drink some beer nodding my head like I get it, although I don't. Harry's basically a fall-down drunk and that's got to be a constant pain in Travis' ass, especially considering Travis is almost always sober. He pretends he's a big drinker, but he's not. Dealing with a drunk when you're sober can't be any fun. Yeah, Harry's drunk a lot yet somehow he has close to 4 GPA. How the fuck does he do it? Wouldn't it be funny if his drunk routine all this time has been an act? Ya know, he uses it to cover up that he's shy or something. Then for the first time something gives me pause: what if Harry's gay. I'm pretty sure Travis is and maybe where there's smoke there's fire and those two are fucking like rabbits. Hmmm?

Travis takes his hand off Jamie and puts his arm across my shoulders, hugging me to his side laughing, and then says to all three of us, "Listen up guys, I just remembered one of Harry's jokes, and I know the punch line. Let's see... There's this married couple who have an eight year old son and on Sunday afternoons they like to fuck. The only way they can have their afternoon nookie though is to give the kid a Popsicle and send him out on the balcony to report what's going on in the neighborhood. While their kid's busy doing that, the parents get laid in their bedroom. The kid's got his Popsicle out on the balcony and they hear him calling out the neighborhood activities as they fuck. He yells to his parents, 'There's a car being towed from the parking lot across the street'. 'An ambulance just drove by'. 'Oh, it looks like the Andersons have company this afternoon'. 'Hey, there's my bud, Matt, riding a new bike'. 'Jason just went by on a skate board'. 'Oh my god, the Coopers are fucking again!' Startled, the mom and dad sit up in bed. Dad warily asks, 'Son, how do you know the Coopers are doing that?' The kid yells back, "Eddie Cooper's on the balcony with a Popsicle.' Ha ha, that's pretty good. Travis is laughing at his own joke as he's hugging me with the side of his head bumping mine. Both Dougie and Jamie are chuckling while frowning at us.

I extricate myself from Travis' hug by doing three or four fake coughs, stepping away a couple of feet, and lighting a cigarette. Travis says, "Jesus, Dylan, you just had a coughing fit and now you light a cancer stick. What's wrong with that picture?" Jamie says, "Um, they were fake coughs I think, probably to get away from your groping." Oops, I guess the socializing has come to an end. Travis acts like Jamie's kidding, as he goes, "Groping? Why you little... ha ha, I'll show you some groping," and he goes to grab hold of Jamie, but Dougie puts his hand on Travis' chest, saying, "Whoa there! Is there any chance you maybe caught your roommates excessive-drinking habit, dude. Enough touching, okay. Um, no offense intended." Travis tries saving face, "And none taken, my friend. Hey, I'm fuckin' joking with you guys, don't ya get it? Jesus! Freshman, huh, Dylan!" I shrug and exhale some smoke that Travis bats at with his hand, as he says, "I better see what Harry's up to, nice meeting you guys." Then he grins, pointing at Jamie, "I still owe you a groping, heh heh. See you guys." Well, he did the best he could with that. He makes an asshole of himself and then to his credit he sort of admitted it and left as gracefully as he could. I feel a little sorry for him. Some guys just don't have any natural 'cool' in them, and they try too hard for it and it bombs. Doesn't necessarily mean they're bad guys, they're just not cool... and in Travis' case, sneaky.

We buy another beer and I when I turn around there's Judy Rinker and her friend, Mary Butler. "Dylan, hi! Oh, who are your cute friends. Hi boys," and she rubs Jamie's head, like everyone seems to do. I introduce the girls and the guys, explaining my companions are freshman and how I sort of know Dougie from home. Mary says, "You boys want a good time, be our dates tonight for the mixer," and Judy says, "We know this gorgeous guy here isn't going to take us. Right, Dylan?" I shrug, "Well, you know, what can I say." Jamie says, "We can't take you either. Dougie and I are taking Dylan." He's nodding at me, mumbling, "He's our date, right, Jamie." Jamie grins, "Uh huh, Dylan's our date." I go, "Yep," and Carol goes, "Fuck! More gay guys! It's getting harder and harder to get a fucking date with cute guys anymore. You fucker's are all going over to the dark side." Judy says to me, "Oh yeah, do me a favor, Dylan. Tell your two-timing brother I'm pissed at him. I know what he and that wise-ass John Beverly are up to with those skaggie Jones twins." I'm like, "Jones twins? Who are they?" Carol says, "Local sluts, that's who they are. Jeff met them at McDonalds when he worked there." I go, "Yeah, well, I'll tell him when I see him. We gotta get going." When Jamie

turns around Carol give his ass a goose and he yelps and jumps, blushing. Dougie glares at Carol as the two girls giggle their way over to the bar.

We're back at our spot against the railing, Jamie asks, "Does that girl, the tall one, always have a potty mouth like that?" I go, "Yeah, girls think it's cool to act like a guy saying 'fuck' all the time." There's music playing in the background which makes me ask, "Do you guys dance?" Jamie's like, "Here?" I go, "No! I mean do you know how to dance, not necessarily here... anywhere." They look at each other, then back at me, "No, why?" I was thinking about Sonny asking me to teach him to dance and I wondered how these guys learned, but they apparently haven't. Willie taught me and I was just wondering how others learned. Of course some never learn. I say to the guys, "Just wondered, that's all. I wouldn't dance with a guy here either, but maybe I will one night with Robby. You know, we'll break new ground for gays. Be pioneers exploring new territories." Jamie says, "Whoa, I'm deep in the closet at home, so I'm not gonna be a pioneer for anything like that. Mums the word." Dougie goes, "Same here." I ask, "Why don't you come 'out'? That's a big secret you're carry around and it can get to be a heavy load. Don'cha think?" Jamie says, "No, not particularly. My parents don't have a clue." I go, "You might be surprised. Mine didn't seem shocked or surprised at all when I told them I was gay." "When'd you tell them, Dylan?" I'm like, "Um, it was after I graduated high school so it's not like I wasn't in the closet for awhile myself." Then I'm curious, "Hey, you guys came out and admitted being gay to those girls, so why not your parents." He shrugs, "I don't know those girls," and Dougie mumbles, "Anyway, like you, Dylan, I think my mother suspects I'm gay, although neither of us has said anything directly to each other about it." I ask, "How about your father?" He says, "Ha, I don't think he remembers my name. He's never home. Works all the time and travels a lot too." I'm not at all sure I should influence these guys to come 'out' anyway. I say, "Well if you come out you establish your identity to them, yourself, and to everyone. I'm glad I said who I am by basically admitting I prefer same sex partners instead of girls. It's not like I made a conscious decision to be gay, it just happened on it's own somehow. Everyone's different though, so you're the only one who knows what's best for you." I'll leave it at that. How'd I get on this topic anyway?

Finished our second beer, I ask, "Shall we see what's up at the mixer now?" They both go, "Yeah, okay," and Jamie says, "Remember, we're gum on your shoe." I laugh, "Sure, guys, whatever." I drive five minutes back to Bertuccie's restaurant which is on Andover street, and then it's less than a five minute drive down Andover street to the Knights Of Columbus hall. Every place of interest in North Andover is a ten minute ride at most. Naturally the parking lot's full already, not than it's that big. Guys are parking on the side street. North Andover High school is up the street from the hall and I can see it from here. Being stubborn about it, I'm determined to find a spot to park in the lot. I finally park in front of the dipsy dumpster right next to a sign that says, "NO PARKING". We get out and see a hubbub of some sort at the front door with some guy shouting. A big guy from Merrimack is acting as bouncer apparently, and he's arguing with kids who don't have a college ID with them. Probably high school students from the aforementioned North Andover High. I say, "Let them sort that out before we go in," and I light a cigarette looking for Robby's pickup in the parking lot, but don't see it. We can hear the music and the buzz of talking and laughing coming from inside.

Finally a police car pulls in the parking lot. One of the cops asks the bouncer, "Trouble?" and the gaggle of disgruntled high school kids disperse. The cops drive off, but will probably keep a close watch on this place for drunk drivers leaving the parking lot. Police targeting a place for that specific purpose is against the law, I think. Not that the cops give a shit about that. This is a private party supposedly, and the legal drinking laws regarding private affairs are hazy at best and it appears that uninvited police can't prevent minors from entering. Further complicating the law forbidding underage drinking is the law stating it's unlawful to sell alcohol to anyone under twenty-one, but the fraternity isn't selling beer. It's selling a ticket to get in a mixer while telling everyone they can't drink unless they're legal age. That's what they say and that's what the signs inside will say, but no one checks the age of anyone pouring themselves a beer. It's self serve. This is a gray area mostly overlooked by authorities when the affair is somehow affiliated with a college or university.The cops would need 'cause' to enter the Knights Of Columbus hall, like a gun going off or a riot breaking out. Otherwise they'd need a warrant which they won't get. Also some of the cops are members of the Knights anyway and the Knights Of Columbus is making money renting their hall, so the brotherhood sticks together, ya know how it works. Some, all, or none of this may be actually true, but it's the scuttlebutt I've heard regarding underage drinking and until something happens to prove it wrong that's what we'll continue believing. It makes for a more relaxing atmosphere thinking we're not breaking the law.

There's never been a mixer or frat party raided by the North Andover police, not that anyone can remember anyway, and there's never been a traffic fatality by anyone attending one of these drinking affairs, so fingers crossed that tonight is no exception. There's very little driving necessary to get here and back from campus, and with frat parties on campus there's no driving at all. On the other hand, Tracy's speakeasy violates all the laws, but he's never had a problem with the police and no one knows why that is. Tracy's parents are rich and they must know somebody who knows somebody. That's our best guess. I can't believe he's 'paying off' the police. I have heard his father owns the duplex where Tracy lives on the second floor. Other than that it's a mystery why in two years the police have hardly ever visited the speakeasy. It helps that the building is on the corner with an open lot across the street to it's right. The street is a little used street and on the left of Tracy's duplex there's a strip mall that's closed by the time Tracy's speakeasy opens. It's an isolated spot. All we know is it's been a good place to have some beers. How Tracy gets away with it, and without any kind of license, plus serving underage patrons is often discussed, but without input from Tracy it remains a mystery. I wouldn't presume to use my buddy-sex status with him to pry into the topic.

We go up to the Knights Of Columbus double front doors and the bouncer nods at us friendly-like. While he's collecting our twenty-five dollars each, in a monotone voice he tells us, "Obviously none of you are twenty-one, which means no beer consumption will be allowed on the premises by any of you. Thanks for supporting our fraternity, now move along, please". He's probably said that many times already and he'll be saying it many more times before the nights over. Absolutely no one pays any attention to it of course. Inside the place is bigger than it looks from the outside. There's a long bar down the right side of the room with six half kegs sitting on the bar in a row. The kegs are labeled: Bud light, regular Bud, Coors light, regular Coors, Rolling Rock, and the last half keg is Iron City. I've had all of those beers one time or another except Iron City. Beers do taste different from one another, but none of them taste good per se. Not compared to Snapple or Coke for example. Those soft drinks taste good, but you can't get a buzz from them so that's where beer comes to the rescue. Red and white wine is available in boxes with pour spouts next to the kegs although very few guys will go anywhere near them. They're for girls who can't stand the volume necessary when drinking beer to get their buzz on, the buzz and the accompanying lessening of inhibitions is primarily what it's all about. There are two bar tenders working the second half on the bar selling mixed drinks, but they do check ID for that. Probably half of the four to five hundred college students here are twenty-one or older and the bartenders look busy so that's another money-maker for the Knights. Later on they'll be a lot of shots sold I'd imagine.

There's sixteen ounce heavy duty plastic cups stacked just before the lineup of half kegs and we each take a cup. Dougie and Jamie fill theirs with Bud light and I try the Iron City beer. When pouring beer from kegs you get a nice 'head' on a cup of beer, which I like. Beers in hand, we begin milling around to find somebody we know. On the side of the room opposite the bar there's a DJ with a bad comb over putting out club music for dancing. It's okay, but last night's country rock was better. Club music has a big beat but it can be very repetitive. It's okay though. In front of the DJ is the dance floor's being utilized by early arrivals who already have their buzz on. There's a buffet across the back of the room getting a lot of attention. From where I am I can see a pile of chicken wings, nachos and those horrible tortilla chips with orange cheese sauce on them, plus salsa dig, and two other food items in big restaurant pans over a flame. Next to the buffet is a popcorn machine spouting out popcorn constantly. Huh, the fraternity has outdone itself with the snack food, although when considering five hundred admissions times twenty-five dollars, maybe they aren't all that generous with the food after all. The rest of this big hall is filled with tables that are all occupied and then around the perimeter of the room are groups of standing students drinking and yucking it up with their friends or acquaintances. A quick appraisal and I'd guess it's pretty much fifty-fifty guys and girls. There are mixed groups of guys and girls too, but the majority of the tables and groups standing are made up of one sex or the other. That'll change as more and more booze goes down everyone's throats. It's loud but not raucous yet.

Whenever I'm at a large gathering like this consisting of mostly Merrimack students, I realize how few of them I actually know. I don't feel I've been a hermit, but I'm not real big on introducing myself to people. If I were in a fraternity, or one of the clubs, or on a sports team, that's how you get to know many more of your fellow students than I know. Fuck it though, I don't want to know tons of people because I can't remember their names usually, and that can be embarrassing. All my advice to Dougie and Jamie earlier is advice I never followed myself. Ah ha, then the first guy I run into is someone I know, Jarod Mellincamp. He and some douche bag named Dick Veris instigated a fight with me the first week of my freshman year. The two of them were kicking my ass until Robby went postal on Veris', pounding him over the head with a trash can lid. Jarod and I fought to pretty much of a draw after that, although we both claim the other won the fight. In a fist fight rarely does anyone escape without some bruises no matter who wins. Jarod's with his girlfriend as he gives me a big grin, saying, "Dylan! Still taking names and kicking ass?" We do a quick hug, with me mumbling, "Nah, your's was my first and last fight at Merrimack. I've decided fighting's for asshole's." He goes, "Speaking of which, did I tell you Dick Veris flunked out during second semester last year?" I shrug, "Yeah, you told me that and good riddance!" He goes, "Oh, this is my girlfriend, Jill," we nod and smile at one another, then I introduce the boys and Jarod goes, "Nice to meet you guys. Hey, Dylan, glad I ran into to you. I was beginning to think I didn't know anyone here," and Jill goes, "We just walked in, Jarod, Jesus Christ!" Then she points, saying, "There's Timmy and Diana." He nods at her, saying to me, "You still owe me that free haircut you promised."

His girlfriend's cute, but Jarod's cuter. After the fight we ran into each other on campus a couple of weeks later and became friends. Not the kind of friends who hangout together necessarily, but after a fight you sometimes find yourself respecting the other combatant, and it doesn't hurt that Jarod's, like I said, cute. I say, "I'd be happy to give you a free haircut anytime. I see you're sticking with your preppy look," meaning his short light brown hair. He had long hair when we fought and then when I saw him a couple of weeks later he'd had his hair cut in a short preppy style that looks good on him. He came to his senses and was done hanging-out with Veris before that asshole flunked out. He tells Jill, "Dylan's the first person who casually came right out and told me he was gay." She shrugs, sarcastically saying, "Congratulations." Huh, kind of a snooty twat, which surprises me because Jarod's a cool kid who doesn't need to put up with that attitude of hers. Then she says to Jarod, "I told you, Timmy and Diana are right over there. If you can pull yourself away from gay Dylan here, lets go say hello. They're saving seats at their table for us." Jarod says to her, "Yeah, okay," then to me, "Nice seeing you again, Dylan" and he gives me that cute grin of his with the dimples and super white teeth. We bump fist as I mutter, "Yeah, same here, dude, good seeing you." They walk away and I think, 'What a waste. Poor Jarod's pussy whipped by his girlfriend. Yeah, and I think he told me once he's been going with her since junior year of high school. Too bad, he'd be awesome on our side, and if not that, he could at least do better than her.

The boys and me continue on our way towards the buffet, not because we're hungry, but because we paid for the right to eat that stuff and we want to get our money's worth. Jamie sees a guy who he tells me sits next to him in his creative writing course. He introduces me to an average looking guy, who seems harmless. They start talking and laughing about something that happened in class last week. This guy is with two other guys who Dougie also knows and I take the opportunity to go solo for awhile, saying, "I'll catch up with you guys later." They pat my back and, as I drift away, I hear Jamie saying, "He's the one who gave us our buzz cuts." The other guy says something, probably derogatory, and the last thing I hear from Jamie is a whiny, "It was Dougie's fucked-up idea not mine." Well of all the ingrates! Ha ha, I have a feeling Dougie rimming Jamie's won't come up as a factor in him getting the buzz cut. Not with the boys being in the closet and all. And what a surprise! No more gum on my shoe. That was quick.

Someone grabs my arm, "Dylan, wassup? Where's Ryan?" Turning I see Ryan's friend from last year, but I can't remember his name. Damn, he's the nice guy who tried teaching me pool the time Robby, Ryan, and I spent a few hours at his parent's house one night last year. I go, "Dude, great to see you. I'm not sure Ryan will show up here tonight, I really don't know for sure one way or the other." This pool-teaching guy is with a girl who's kinda hanging all over him. She says, "Why haven't I met Dylan earlier, Felix?" Ah yes, that's right, it's Felix Jonnas. I'm chuckling saying, "Yeah, why haven't you introduced me to your girlfriend, Felix?" He says to his girlfriend, "Put the breaks on your flirting, Nance, he's gay." I make a 'face' like: 'sorry about that'. She sticks her bottom lip out doing a fake pout, mumbling, "Gay? Oh what a fuckin' bummer that is," and she slaps my arm." Girls! Felix says he's only seen Ryan twice all semester and the first time Ryan was eager to get together, but the second time Ryan was moody. I tell him I see him every day because we're in the same classes together, and that's Ryan's, "Um, he's doing okay generally speaking, but I suspect roommate problems, although I'm not sure." Felix goes, "Yeah? That sucks! Nance had to change roommates this year too." Felix lives in North Andover and commutes to Merrimack. After another minute of small talk, Nance drags him away to join three girls she knows and I continue on my way to the buffet. At the buffet, who's there but Robby's friend Chad Bundy. He's looking cute and sexy as ever. Chad's one of Robby's side-sex partners last year, although Robby never came right out and said he was, not in so many words. Chad introduces me to a guy named 'Pat', who I think was his roommate last year. We talk about a few things college-related without either of us mentioning Robby's name, and then they join a table with four other guys. I don't know any of them.

I put a few buffalo chicken wings on my paper plate along with some ranch dressing, but pass on the other stuff. There's lasagna in big restaurant pan over a flame and what looks like some kind of chicken something-or-other with a sauce and vegetables. Yuck, but I guess the boys and I could have made a dinner out of it, and I would have saved eighty dollars. Nah, I'm glad I treated them to Bertuccis. I'm leaning against a shelf that's on the wall behind the buffet table. I set my beer and paper plate on the shelf so both my hands are free to eat the spicy chicken wings. Dipping one of the wings in the ranch dressing I'm eating while looking for Robby or Chubby, when two guys I should know the names of come over and put their beers and plates of food on the shelf, one of them saying, "Dylan, what the fuck ya doing eating along?" I go, "Waiting for my roommates, how's it going?" The guy says, "It's good, sophomore year's easier then freshman. Um, you remember my bud, Josh, right?" I go, "Yeah, wassup, Josh?" He says, "This food suck's for one thing,"as he forks some lasagna into his mouth. Then two girls join us and the tall one says, "Homer, you said you were taking us out to dinner." Oh yeah, that's right, this is Connor's friend, Homer. I don't think I've ever known his last name. Homer laughs, "This is the dinner, Mudge! It's all you can eat too," then to me, "What do you hear from Connor?" I tell him what I know, and about the welcome home party we had for Connor after basic training, and that he's training to be a medic. The girls are bored though, neither one registering as cute in my gay brain. I dump the chicken bones, telling Josh and Homer, "I'll see you guys around," and head back for another beer. The only thing Connor ever told me about Homer is that his name's not Homer. He didn't seem gay, but ya never know. Along the way I bump fist with Rolly, who's I know from last year, but his last name escapes me. He's with two guys who I'm pretty sure I don't know, although they both called me by name. So I guess I know a half dozen people out of four to five hundred. It's kinda funny.

While I'm pouring a beer from the Iron City tap, Chubby comes through the front door with John Beverly and their dates. I now know their dates last name, they're the slutty Jones twins. They're local girls, not from Merrimack. Chubby gives me that special smile that says he's happy to see me and we hug as John Beverly and me are bumping fists. Chubby introduces the girls as, Frick and Frack Jones, which I'm guessing aren't their real first names. Chubby usually gives his girlfriends nicknames that seem to stick. Chubby insists I sit with them. All four of them have cups of beer as Chub leads us into the warren of tables. I say, "Bro, there are people at every table." He grins at me, "Yeah, that appears to be the case." He chooses a table with a guy and a girl sitting together, apparently in a deep serious discussion. Chubby says, "Hi, I'm Jeff and this is Frick, Frack, John Beverly and my awesome brother, Dylan. How's the food? Have you tried it yet? Oh, ya don't mind if we join you, do ya?" as he puts his beer on the table and sits down right next to the girl, smiling at her. He's followed by John Beverly and the girls which accounts for all six seats. Chubby leans back and pulls a chair from the table behind ours over to our table, as he asks, "Anybody using this." The girls at that table look startled as Chubby adds, "Nice to see ya tonight." Then he points to one girl saying, "Nice sweater." Chubby's forcing the chair in between him and the girl we barged in on, saying, "Could ya scoot over a little, honey?" John says to the couple, "Very nice of you to share this table of six with us." I'm sitting in the seventh seat in awe of Chubby brassiness. He asks the couple, "So, how you guys doing? Crowded tonight, huh?" The guy looks wicked pissed, his face is red with a vein pulsing in his forehead. Big guy, as he stands, saying, "You're one rude fucker, ya know that!" He pulls the girl up, they take their mixed drinks and huff off. Chubby goes, "Was it something I said?" Chubby can get away with stuff like that. I wouldn't even think of doing it. I just assumed all the tables were taken. It is a little rude of those two to occupy a table of six for their long drawn out discussion of whatever serious matter they felt they had. That's how we rationalize taking the table from them.

My four companions talk and laugh about the movie they saw this afternoon, then about the bar they went to with guys bullshitting their way into getting beers. They told the guy they were exchange students from Norway where the legal drinking age is eighteen. It was some dive joint in Lawrence, and then they had a lot of funny things to say about their dinner at the Ninety-nine restaurant. The girls are very talkative too, but everything their talking about I know nothing about, so when I see Robby, Danny Monday, and their other teammate come through the front door, I say, "Excuse me, guys. See you later Chubby, I'm gonna say hi to Robby who just came in." Chubby says, "Later, bro," and as I walk away one of the girls goes, "He called you Chubby? What the fuck?" I don't hear Chubby's undoubtedly off the wall bogus explanation of his nickname, but last time I heard the explanation, he'd said, 'It's short for Jeffrey obviously'. Love me some Chubby!

When I make my way to them, Robby and John Beverly are pouring beers as the other guy fills his cup with red wine. Ghastly! Robby sees me and gives me a big smile, then a hug, but no kiss. Danny hugs me too, a little too enthusiastically, saying, "You're looking hot as ever, Dylan. Fucking Dickers is a lucky dude." The wine guy says, "You're Robby's boyfriend? Holy shit. Where's my hug," so it's confirmed there's at least three out the thirty-five baseball players on Merrimack's roster are gay. I suspect that's known only to the three of them. Three out of thirty-five fits the one-in-ten estimation of gay to straights in our culture. An estimation I strongly challenge as an underestimation, not that anyone cares. The wine guy gets introduced only a 'Drops', with the explanation that he's a reserve catcher who has a propensity to drop the ball when it's pitched to him. He's built like a catcher, stocking and kinda short. We find a spot in the corner near the DJ and I soon discover 'Drops' made the team as a pinch hitting and as an emergency backup catcher. He's a good hitter with long ball power. He also says the word 'fuck' every third word, but he seems likable enough. He's got a fully developed beard that's totally not sexy and he's not cute. Brutish looks, but like I said, a nice guy.

They talk about their trip to Boston and tour of Fenway Park. Lots of laughing at the shit they encountered with 'Drops' apparently prone to dropping more than baseballs and 'F' bombs. He dropped a cup of soda off the Green Monster, which is the tall wall in left field at Fenway Park. The cup of soda hit one person in the group doing the tour after Robby's group. The Coke apparent was distributed among half a dozen people below. That reminded me of Harry Black pouring his coffee off the second level of the Rockingham Mall onto to the shoppers below. It happened when I asked him the time and he turned his wrist, the wrist of the hand holding his hot coffee. I chipped in with that story, and 'Drops' says, "Fuck, I knew I wasn't the only fucker who drops beverages on people." It's fun hearing the guy's stories about their fellow Merrimack's baseball players, and the trip to Boston, but like with Chubby and those guys, I feel a little out of this conversation too. I certainly can't chip in with what I did this afternoon even though these three guys are gay. The reason being, obviously I don't want to flaunt the three-way I had with Jamie and Dougie in Robby's face. Plus Danny and 'Drops', while gay, might not grasp Robby's and my version of an open relationship.

We all go for beer refills needing to stand in lines at the half kegs now. Because of that we get in the shortest line and take whatever that tap has to offer. This time it's the Bud Light keg. Bud Light taste watery to me after a couple of cups of Iron City beer. Back in our original spot near the DJ, 'Drops' goes, "Oh, fuck, Wait'll you hear this. Last week's snow melted so my old man's at the country club hitting some golf balls on the practice range. Afterwards the funniest thing happen in the club house. Dad's putting stuff in his locker when the guy across from him gets a call on his cell's speaker phone. My old man hears a lady's voice saying something like, 'Oh, hi honey. I'm at the Bloomingdales looking at a beautiful leather coat. It's been reduced to two thousand dollars.' The guy says, 'Wow, snap that up,' and she's a coy one, adding, 'Um, since you're in a good mood, honey, um, I stopped by the Lexus dealership on the way here and that new model that I love so much finally came in yesterday. Someone's already thinking about buying it. Do you think...' The guy asks, "Yeah? How much they asking for it?' She's like, 'Ninety thousand, but it's got all the extras, that fuckin' car is loaded. Please, honey!' The fucking guy shrugs, mumbling, 'Okay, I promised you a new car, but I better see a smile on your face when I get home.' "Drops' tells us, "My old man and another guy next to him are looking at each other like, 'What the fuck,' ya know? Then woman says, 'You're a dear. Last thing, I got a call from the real-estate broker. The house we were looking at dropped down to nine hundred thousand. I love that place. What do you think? Can we?' The man's blasé, 'Yeah, tell them they have a deal'. The wife can't thank the guy enough and they finally hangs up. There's silence in the locker room until the man asks, 'Anyone know who this cell phone belongs to?'

Well we get a good laugh out of that, but it's obviously a joke and not something 'Drops' father experienced. This "Drops' guy's pretty funny and he gets funnier the more we drink, or maybe it just seems that way. We all get another beer, but when that ones finished Robby, Danny, and 'Drops' decide to make their way to the buffet table at the other end of the room. I don't want to fight the crowd again so I light a cigarette then, as I exhale a lung full of smoke, getting some nasty looks from a couple of girls, it occurs to me that no one else in here is smoking. Huh, maybe it has something to do with the big sign I just noticed that says, 'NO SMOKING ANY WHERE IN THE BUILDING OR PREMISES'. Yeah, that's probably why I'm the only person out of five hundred who's smoking, so I drop the cigarette and step on it while heading over to the half kegs again. I get Iron City beer again and carry the cup to the front door where the bouncer's flirting with two girls who apparently don't have college IDs. I'm betting they get in anyway, but I go, "Excuse me, mister bouncer, can I leave and get back in without paying. I'm dying for a smoke." He has a stamp in his fingers, the kind you might stamp 'PAID' on an invoice with, and without stopping his rap to the girls he holds up a stamp, I hold the back of my hand over to him, and he stamps it with a red 'X'. As I head out the door I see another sign that reads, 'NO ALCOHOLIC DRINKS ALLOWED IN THE PARKING LOT' so I hold my full cup of beer at my side, the one opposite the bouncer, who's not paying any attention to me anyway, and walk out and around the corner over to where the Jeep is parked in front of the dumpster, blocking the 'NO PARKING' sign. Lots of signs around the Knights Of Columbus hall. There are maybe twenty-five people scattered around the parking lot disobeying the signs along with me as they smoke and drink their beer. At least one of them is smoking weed because there's no mistaking that smell. Can't tell which one though.

I'm beginning to notice the dumpster stinks so I wander over to lean against a wall dividing this parking lot and a gas station next door. As I smoke and drink I watch people coming in and leaving the mixer, but mostly coming in late. It's almost eleven and the mixers over at midnight. The early closing time was insisted upon by the Knights. At least that's what I heard someone inside tell someone else. Then I get a glimpse at the top of someone's head. That person's in a small group going inside and I'd recognize that buzz cut anywhere. It has to be Ryan, then I recognize Rex walking between Ryan and someone else. I'm guessing its fuckwad Marty on the other side of Ryan, if it is Ryan. There are two other guys with those three taking up the rear and after showing college ID there a discussion and some laughing from the bouncer. Then money's exchanges hands and in they go. Hmmm. This might be a good sign. The laughing I mean. Could it be that Ryan's lie about no sex between us worked and Marty believed him? Stepping on my cigarette butt I hustle over to the door, show my stamped hand, and go in quickly. The group I saw come in a minute ago has disappeared in the crowd. Fuck! I start doubting myself that it was Ryan because the only person out of the five guys in that group I recognized for sure was Rex, and now I'm not even sure it was him. I've only seen him a few times. But dammit, the brief glance I

had at the top of that one guy's head, the one in the middle, has to be Ryan.

Wandering around I'm looking for Ryan or the guy I think is Ryan. I want to know one way or the other if it's him. I'm casually drinking my beer and stopping now and then to bullshit with guys I said hello to earlier, but no Ryan. I see a guy facing away from me about Ryan's size with a buzz cut, but he has on a bright red shirt and I would have noticed that outside. There was no bright red shit among the five I saw come in a few minutes ago, but what if he had a coat on. Obviously he'd have a coat on you nut. It's cold out there. Then Tracy grabs my arm, saying, "Dylan, you here alone?" He's with his latest girlfriend who I say hi to, then, "No, Trace. I'm with some guys. They're getting food." Tracy says, "This place is a rip off, dude. Twenty-five bucks to drink draft beer. How much did I charge that last keg night I had?" I go, "What was it, ten bucks?" He goes, 'Exactly! Maybe I need to raise my prices." I shrug, "There's the buffet and DJ that they gotta pay, plus the rental fee for the hall. Ya know?" His girlfriend is talking to two other girls, so Tracy says in my ear. "Lets hook up as soon as I can sneak away from my date. Okay?"Then he looks over at his latest girlfriend, whispering to me, "She's on the rag tonight and I'm horny for you." I frown, "Where would we, um....?" He says, "I'll give you a quickie in the back seat of my car. You know which one it is, right?" I nod my head, but I'm not sure about this. I've got to resolve this Ryan question first or it'll drive me nuts. Am I seeing things or projecting what I want to see? I don't know. Tracy says, "Give me fifteen minutes or so and I'll meet you at the car. I parked illegally in the gas station lot." He pats my shoulder giving me a sexy grin, then a shoulder squeeze, "You look so sexy tonight, Dylan." Before I can say anything he turns to the three girls and starts saying something to them. He sure is smooth with the girls, and me too actually.

Smelling the back of my hand I'm thinking maybe a 'quickie' with Tracy might be a good idea. My boyfriend can't hold his booze and never could, so he'll probably want to crash tonight. Tomorrow morning he'll be ready to boogie, but it's unlikely they'll be any boogying between us tonight. And as I'm thinking that, I see Ryan and my jaw drops. Marty's holding a short leash attached to a wide leather collar that's around Ryan's neck. They're just getting settle way over in the corner opposite where Robby and his teammates are. No way can Chubby see them because he's sitting.The collar's so wide it's pressing Ryan's chin up so it seems as though he's looking at something high on the wall he's facing. I make my way over in that general direction, which with the crowds of loud people is easier said than done. He has on big goofy sunglasses and what look like pajamas. College kids will wear pajamas bottoms to class sometimes. The bottoms of Ryan's pajamas are similar to sweat pants, but the top is a pajama top, no mistaking it for anything else. I'm close enough to a guy to hear him say to his friend, "Guess that asshole missed the Halloween party last October," and there's some laughing. The four guys around Ryan are laughing too, but not at that 'Halloween' comment. Ryan's not even smiling, never mind laughing. They're too far away from me to hear what is being said where I am, but I can't stop staring, watching Marty pulling on the leash every minute or so jerking Ryan's head so his sunglasses slide down his nose. He doesn't push them up himself though, one of the other guys does that for him with all of them laughing, except Ryan. It's sick of course, but my dick twitches just the same imagining me in Ryan's spot. I'm trying to adjust my tightening cock without being obvious about it and then I think of Willie on the Wildwood boardwalk. He was in a much more humiliating costume than Ryan's. Over the pajama top Ryan has his jacket on. The one I've seen him wear almost every day since the weather's turned cold.

Why the hell did the bouncer let them bring Ryan in here like that in the first place? And what was the bouncer laughing about. I'm looking over the crowd for Robby or Chubby figuring they'll want to know of this latest revolting situation Ryan's gotten himself involved in. Too many people between where I'm standing and those guys, so I don't even see them. Maybe that's best. Looking back at the side of Ryan's face I'm thinking if he'd smile, or laugh, or if he had a beer, or anything I might think it wasn't any of my business. No, that not true; I'd still make it my business, it's just worst that he's not doing any of those things. He's just standing there looking at a spot high on the wall and getting his head jerked around every time Marty yanks on his leash. I'll bet his hands are tied. How can he let himself be made to look like such a fool, such a loser? I'm inching toward the nasty group of five, mumbling, "Excuse me, sorry, excuse me," and I get close enough to hear what's being said. Rex is explaining to someone, "It's a frat initiation, that's all. Nah, no problem with the guy at the door, he laughed. Thought it was funny, so no, we didn't have any problem getting in." Then I hear others repeating this bullshit explanation of why Ryan's in this condition. Marty's the center of attention for people in that corner of the

room. College kids keep asking Marty questions about his 'pet'. "What is it anyway? Is it like Mickey Mouse's dog, Pluto. He's the one that stands up, right?" Marty's fifteen minutes of fame I guess. One of the guys in that group, who I don't know, is telling two girls, "Nah, he doesn't mind. He's so fucking high or weed he doesn't know where he's at," and just then fuckwad jerks on Ryan's leash hard, Ryan's sunglasses slide down his nose, and his head gets pulled around and I look right into his eyes. No recognition in his eyes at all. He looked right at me, right through me is more accurate. Yeah, he does looked totally stoned. The dumb fuck! Okay there nothing I can do about it now, but I'm pissed at Ryan and I hate Marty. I wish I could do something about this, but Ryan wouldn't know if I did. This calls for some payback to fuckwad, and maybe I'll also get Robby, Chubby, and Ryan's friend from last year, Felix what's-his-name, to have an intervention. Talk some sense into Ryan, and I gotta get him outta that dorm room too. Maybe get him in with Freddie, who's without a roommate presently.

Blowing out a long exhale, my cheeks puffing out, I turn away unable to watch anymore of this. The pathetic condition Ryan's in and the high pitched cackling and laughing from the four guys he's with, obnoxious... it's simply too much. Making my way back to the opposite corner of the room where the half kegs of beer sit on the bar, I'm thinking about having a shot of whiskey. After pushing through the crowds and getting elbowed a few times, I'm finally standing in line waiting my turn to refill my cup, still wondering what to do about Ryan, when, bam! Here's Tracy grabbing my arm and pulling me out of line, "Come on, Dylan!" It startles me and I'm like, "What? Oh, Tracy, wha...?" He grins, "Come on, lets check out the backseat of my car. We'll make it fast, buddy, nobody will even know we're gone." Out the door in a flash, Tracy gets his hand stamped, then says to me, "You're kind of addictive, dude. Ha ha, it's crazy but I find myself thinking about us doing it, like all the time. When I'm in class too, and I need to tell myself to get a fucking grip! Ha ha, I'm like some silly fuckin' teeny bopper with a crush on a cutie in a boy band, heh heh. You aren't part of a boy band by any chance?" I'm a little drunk and annoyed, but Tracy is so sexy and upbeat I have to smile. Plus I need to get my mind off Ryan. Looking at Tracy and listen to his cheerful banter is just what I need about now.

Tracy talks fast with his cute lips grinning and his ponytail bouncing a little. He says," I probably shouldn't admit to you how hung-up I am on you. Shit, you'll worry I might start stalking you. Ha ha, and maybe I will, you hottie." Everything he says, he says like he sees the absurd humor in it. He's being self deprecating, but in a casually confident sort of way. It's a bit flattering too. I look at his bouncing stubby ponytail and his attractive face, always with his sexy grin on it, and ask, "What about your girlfriend?" He laughs again, "Oh man! If it's a choice between you and her, that's no contest. And anyway, I told ya she's on the rag tonight." We're at the dividing wall between the mixer and the gas station when he says, "Um, I saw your boyfriend, Rob, inside. I don't want you to get in trouble?" He stops us, "Will this get him pissed off at you? He doesn't have to even know you're gone. What do you say, Dylan? It's up to you." I say, "Lets chance it, Tracy," and he starts us walking again, saying, "We're so fucking naughty, Dylan, heh heh. We're only young once though, right?" Actually that's part of my philosophy regarding side sex. Enjoy it while you can, plus this little sexual interlude should put me back into a partying frame of mind. I'm making Ryan's my mission, but not until tomorrow. If there was anything constructive I could do now I do it. I'm afraid anything I could try would just draw more attention to Ryan, and he's stoned anyway so fuck it.

Tracy unlocks his new car and we scramble in the back seat. He says, "My dick's almost hard from walking over here with you thinking about fucking you. You're something, you know that?" We're sitting on the seat with me pulling my pants down to my knees, as I mumble, "Thanks, I think. It sounded flattering anyway." He laughs, "It was a simple statement of fact. You must know how sexy you are. There's something so attractive about the way you react to sex, like it's your first time. I fuck girls and it's like, 'Ho hum', to them." He's got his dick out through his fly, squeezing it a little, as he adds, "You make me feel like the world's hottest stub when I fuck you. Somehow you've retained a certain innocents about sex, although you must have a lot of it." I mumble, "I don't have as much sex as everyone seems to think I have." He's grinning at me, "Whatever, Dylan, I basically only care about the sex I have with you, not the sex you have with whoever. I'm telling you our sex is as good or better than any sex I've ever had." He's got his hand behind my head now gently pulling it down towards his lap, asking, "Would you do me the favor of sucking my cock so I've got a proper boner to stick up your awesome rear end?"

Guess that's it for our chit chat. Taking his cock between my fingers, I lick the head and smell the scent coming off it, then two fingers go into his open fly pulling out his nuts. Tracy moves around on the seat a little, his hand still at the back of my head. I hear him take a deep breath making me wonder if maybe the last time he fucked me was the last fuck Tracy's had. He does seem quite horny. I have this idea of him as being this Don Juan type guy who's used to having sex with whoever he chooses, but he probably isn't like that at all. He apparently appreciates sex the way I do and he gets excited about it when it works out the way he hoped it would. Licking the top of his balls I get a head full of his erotic natural scent. He's clean too, so there's no stale aspect to his scent. It's quite a nice scent with a youthful boyish accent to it. I need to remind myself Tracy's my age even though although I've always thought of him as older and sort of sophisticated... and much more mature than me. He's in my graduating class, but he's always seems older and very sure of himself, but without a touch of arrogance. He fuck's dominantly without acting dominant somehow. That's quite an attractive combination from my point of view. Maybe it's all an act though, and he has all the insecurities I have. If he does, he covers them up better than me.

The head of his cock goes in my mouth, my lips suck on it and my tongue licks over it repeatedly. It firms up tighter right away. The hand behind my head slides down to lightly squeeze the back of my neck while the palm of his other hand rubs from my forehead back over my head. He takes another deep breath with his hips lifting, pushing his groin up before a quiet murmur of contentment. Dropping my head down on his cock I take four inches of the hard shaft into my mouth, then slowly press down further until his cock's head slides past the gag reflex area in my throat. Tracy drops both his hands to the seat lifting his ass off the seat, moaning, "Aaaah, mmm, oooh jeez yeah." Bobbing my head on his boner it goes in my throat, then out, in my throat, then out and then his hand goes under my chin lifting my head off his cock. With my face a few inches above his cock there's a combination saliva/precum string connecting his pee slit with my lips, shiny in the night

security lights of the gas station. It breaks off and drops onto his slippery shiny cock. Tracy grunts again, then a hand goes in his pocket coming out with a condom. I sit up looking at him. He swallows nosily, mumbling, "I almost lost it there for a second, Dylan. Whoa, you give good head!"

He rips the condom package open with his teeth, and holding the tip out away from the head, he rolls that thin lubricated latex sheath down his boner. Easy to do with his boner very hard and pointing straight up. It rolls down to his groin leaving the top loose so it can catch the semen that shortly will be shooting up from his balls and out the head of his cock. He says, "This feels so good, Dylan. Jesus I'm as hard as I've ever been." He stares at me, then asks, "Can I kiss you?" I nod my head, and our lips come together. Nice kiss with some tongue, maybe a twenty seconds kiss before our lips make a lip-smacking sound when they part. He licks his lips, "I've ever kissed another guy. I mean other than you. Don't know why except I didn't think guys kissed, for some stupid reason." I'm looking at him realizing for the first time I've overestimated his worldly experience with sex. He's always been so cool and casual about everything, like he's been there, done that, but he apparently hasn't. Rubbing my nose with the back of my hand and then smelling it, I'm still staring at Tracy. He asks, "Why so quiet tonight, Dylan?" I shrug, then mutter, 'I don't know. We're usually done our sex by now, so I'm surprised I guess." He smiles. mumbling, "You're so fucking cute it's like crazy," and he leans in for another kiss and when his lips slide off mine, he murmurs, "You really turn me on, it's... ha ha, I don't know what it is exactly, it's everything. Let's just do it before I make a bigger fool of myself."

He gets up on the seat, as I ask, "Doggie style?" and he takes another deep breath nodding his head and sounding breathless when he says, "Yeah, doggy style." I get on my hands and knees. He moves over on his knees and pushes the head of his cock right in past everything. My head goes back as he mutters, "Sorry, I'm feeling really fucking randy tonight." Gripping my hips with both hands he steadily pushes his hard cock up my ass spreading the walls of my rectum and the lips of anus. It feels like the shaft gets wider with each inch that goes up my ass. It's very tight and hurts a little, but feels really good too. The lube on the condom is a huge help. I gave a thought to telling him he didn't need the condom, but somehow I didn't think he'd do it bareback. Don't know why I think that, but I do. Lots of deep breaths from Tracy as his groin is now tightly against my buttocks. He leans against me, both his hands rubbing up my side, "Nice bod, Dylan. Nice everything, like I already said." I'm taking fast shallow breaths waiting for my ass to stop hurting. It doesn't take long for the hurt to fade away and I can

take a deep breath of my own, savoring the feeling inside me. So filled up, and the sensations in my rectum are beginning to get my attention in a most delicious way. First there's the signals from my prostate and then my anus begins sending me it's own set of sexual pleasure signals, so I squirm pushing back at him, moaning, "Mmmm, Tracy, feels good. Nice cock, dude," then my back arches a little and I bite on my bottom lips as he begins pulling his hard cock out. With a quiet murmur he pushes it back up my ass sort of slowly and then leans on me again, grunting and asking, "Feel okay, Dylan?" He's rubbing his hands over my butt cheeks, then squeezes them as I manage to say, "Uh huh," then, "Mmmmm, yeah, it feels really good."

Holding onto my hips he begins moving his, and quiet, "Slap, slap, slap, slap," flesh against flesh sounds echo off the windows in the car along with Tracy's quiet moans, "Umm, ummm, ummm, ummm." The sounds of anal fucking accompanying each penetration. All the wonderful sensations of fucking begin whispering pleasure signals to my brain and they build and build as Tracy keeps up his steady thrusting. Such hot sensations for four or five minutes, but not the all out assault of the first two times we fucked standing up. It's like Tracy wants to draw out the pleasure for longer than our usual four minute desperate rush to climax. Either way I'm good with it. My cock's very hard and feeling good, no hurt inside me, just the sexual sensations of fucking that are both luscious and indescribable. The lips of my asshole are beginning to reach that almost unbearable level of sexual pleasure I've experienced many times and my prostate is already there as I'm starting to push back at his thrust grunting and making whining sounds at my approaching climax. Unknown minutes later it's like I need to climax more than anything in the world, as I'm grunting, "Aah, aah, aah, ooh, ooh, Tracy, mmm, faster, harder." My eyes close and I grimace, groaning and moaning at the intense arousal I'm feeling. And, yes, now Tracy's getting wilder with his thrusting as he grunts and moans along with me. Oh fuck it feels so good! My cock tightens up further with the constant, "Slap, slap, slap, slap," of Tracy slamming into me. My boner begins moving away from my stomach until it's pointing straight down, throbbing with sexual pleasure, the stimulation inside me quickly approaching the overwhelming level where I can't distinguish the pleasure coming from my cock, rectum, prostate or anus because they've combined into this immense sensation of exquisite pleasure... and, here comes my orgasm at breakneck speed. It'll be a fifteen or twenty second buildup that I can barely believe, and then the instance of climax when everything in my body shuts down to absorb that point of light, that singular blast of pleasure like a mini big bang when the universe expanded millions of light years in a fraction of a second. That's how fast the pleasure of climax spreads all over me from my hair to my toes and everywhere in between.

It's coming as I hold my breath. Tracy's desperate himself now as his arm goes around the front of my neck pulling me up to him, my back against his chest with his hips flying and his boner ramming up my ass like a piston. My back arches, lights explodes in my brain as I squeal, squirming against Tracy, thrusting my hips and out flies a long string of creamy cum from my quivering cock, spattering against the side window of his car. My cock doesn't move, it's harder than any bone in my body. I'm shivering and gasping before another violent hump from Tracy and a shorter string of cum flies out of my cock. Tracy falls forward groaning, and as I lay on the seat now, he humps his cock up my ass blowing out gasping breaths along with sprays of his saliva. Sensations are sizzling through my body and they seem to reorganize themselves back to when the 'big bang' occurred, all around my groin area and my ass. Then they fade away, and like always a wonderful peaceful feeling swarms over me, and that leads to a feeling of exhaustion for a few seconds. Then a satisfied relaxation of the previously hot bursts of sensations. Calmness from the nerve ending in my ass and penis previously responsible for the volcanic eruption of pleasure. A quiet, "Ooooh, mmm," from me. Tracy's laying on my back breathing deeply with his fast beating heart thumping against my spine.

After laying together a few seconds, Tracy lifts off me pulling his cock from my ass. I go, "Oooh, mmm," and then do a push up as I feel something soft against my butt cheeks. Tracy says, "Let me wipe the lube off you ass, Dylan. I don't want to stain the leather seats." I mumble, "That's practical of you, Trace." He laughs, "Sorry, but ya know, a lubricant stain back here might give someone reason to pause to wonder how it got here." When he's wiped my ass he pulls my pants up for me and pats my ass. We both flop around sitting up and he leans across me wiping my cum off the side window, muttering, "I'll clean it good tomorrow. I murmur, "That was hot as usual, Tracy." He goes, "Ah yes, but an understatement for sure." He sits back, looking at me, "Um, Dylan, what are we doing here. Is this leading to something between us, do ya think?" I take a deep breath, "I don't know. We're doing buddy-sex, what else could it be?" He shrugs, "Could it ever be more than that do ya think? I mean, do you think it might be more than buddy sex someday?" I look at him, asking, "Whaddaya mean? Do you want a boyfriend?" He shrugs again, not looking at me, "I don't know, Dylan. I've got these crazy feelings for you like I've never been close to having with the other guys I've fucked." Hmmm, I'm curious, "How many other, um, guys have you done it with?" He shrugs, saying, "Not many. Only two before you. I thought I was over that phrase of my life. It's not like I go around fucking every guy I can convince to do it. I was sweating bullets last week working up the balls to ask you." It didn't seem like that. He seemed almost blasé about it. He's saying, "First kid I did it with was someone I didn't even like and he didn't like me. A bad ass kid in ninth grade. We were both in ninth grade, and we were both curious. I'm not even sure how we got around to bringing it up. Huh, it felt really good though, but he kicked the shit out of me afterward. Didn't so much as look at me for like six weeks, then one day he wanted me to fuck him again." I ask, "Did you?" He laughs, "Yeah. If I didn't he'd beat me up again. We did it probably a dozen times total. He only beat me up the first time, but we never became friends. That was at the private middle school I attended."

We're both silent for a bit, then I ask, "Who's the second guy you fucked?" He goes, "It was two years ago. We were both seniors in high school. A different private school though. He was my roommate actually, and I had this wicked crush on him. He said I was his best friend and one night we'd smuggled a pint of VO into the room and drank it. He was drunk when he said the best friends thing. I asked him then if he'd do it with me. I had to talk him into it because he swore he was straight. He gave in, but it didn't go well at all. He screamed in pain. We pretended nothing happened next morning. It was weird. A few weeks later, without any booze, he said he'd try it again. I went really slow, and with lots and lots of lube helping, it went better. After that we did it once or twice a week until graduation." Huh. I ask, "Were you going out with girls at the time?" He barks out a laugh, "Yeah, that's the odd part. Me and my roommate, Willie, we were both going steady with girls all senior year. We double dated all the time. The girls didn't have a clue me and Willie were fucking. Probably because we were fucking them. Sometimes I'd be in the front seat and Willie in the back, both of us fucking away. Weird times for sure." I know it's a different Willie, but just to be sure, I ask, "What's Willie's last name?" He says, "Walker, Willie Walker the alliterative roommate. His father was a brain surgeon." I go, "Huh, a brain surgeon." Tracy says, "You wanna do it again right now?" I say, "No thanks, but I hope we can do it again real soon." He gives my side a hug, then mutters, "One more kiss, okay?" I turn my head to him and Tracy kisses me like we're lovers. I'm thinking, "Oh, this is interesting. Man, I didn't expect Tracy to be this way at all. I gotta think about this. I'm not feeling any special hot's for him other than he's really good at quick hot fuck. Huh!

We get out straightening our clothes looking at each other. Tracy says, "Sorry if I'm coming on a little strong, Dylan. I feel like I'm making an ass of myself, but I've got this little thing for you that will probably pass, but currently it's on my mind a lot. I'm no stalker though, so don't worry, okay?" He seems unsure of himself and it's the first time I ever had that thought about Tracy. I go, "Hey, we're cool. It's all good, Trace. Um, do you want to go back in together, or...?" He says, "No, we better not. We came out for a smoke if anyone asks." I nod, "Got 'cha," and walk toward the front door as Marty's coming out. He's first, jerking Ryan's leash so hard Ryan stumbles and almost falls in his face. I can now see that Ryan's hands are handcuffed in front with the chain part of the cuffs looped through his belt so he can't raise his hands. He still looks stoned too. Again my dick tightens up and I ask myself, 'Are you fucking crazy?! That isn't hot, it's sick.' The three guys they arrived with follow them out laughing about something. I hear one of them say, "Gilmore, you've got a set of nuts on you,

dude." Fuckwad Marty says, "I told you I'd do it." I assume they're referring to dragging Ryan to the mixer like a dog. Huh, Gilmore. That's the first time I've heard Marty's last name. That's kinda weird, now that I think about it. The five of them go around the other side of the building, so obviously they parked on the street. The bouncer's sitting on his stool when I come up and he just nods at me. He doesn't even check that my hand is stamped. Inside I see Robby and his teammates back at the spot we stood at before. Robby smiles at me, "There you are," and I mumbling, "Yep, here I am. Just had a smoke outside." He laughs telling me about 'Drops' dropping his overloaded paper plate of food. I chuckles as 'Drops' says, "I fucking did that on purpose!" They yuck it up as I glance over seeing Cubby's table laughing at something. Everyone is carefree and laughing it up, while poor Ryan's being humiliated without him even knowing it. Can a person be humiliated if they aren't aware of it? Wait a minute, there are two half full pitchers of beer on Cubby's table. The only two pitchers in the whole place. Ha ha! Who did Chubby con into coming up with those pitchers?

to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com

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I have had some books published and they are available on Amazon . Actually one book and one short story. The short story is titled "Concealed Agony - Gay Romance" (and I didn't pick that title.) Read the short story first. And the book is named "Oliver's Wildwood Vacation" They are both about 'Oliver'. You can easily find them by searching for 'Donny Mumford' at the Amazon web site.

And I would appreciate it if you would provide a comment at the site for the stories as well.

Thanks.

Donny Mumford

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