Dylan's Sophomore Year

DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR

Chapter 45

by Donny Mumford

I've spent the past three or four hours of this December Tuesday afternoon with my new friend, Francis/Frankie Walsh. I met him while filling the pickup with gas at the BP station. Since then I've given him a lesson in how gay guys kiss, a lesson he didn't really need as it turns out. Since then we've shared information about ourselves and we shopped for groceries, and while we were doing that I intimidated an asshole classmate of Frankie's in Stop & Shop. Back at the apartment we made a meatloaf dinner together and while it was baking I shampooed his hair in preparation for giving him a much needed haircut that I'll be doing later. The dinner was good and then we smoked some cigarettes, shared some beer, and now that the kitchen's cleaned up we're on the balcony keeping warm by silently hugging together with a few kisses thrown in. He seems starved for affection. Finally Frankie asks, "Um, ah, have you decided yet if you'll do me a favor and, ya know, fuck me?" I go, "Uh huh, I have, Frankie, and I don't see why we couldn't do that. That's assuming you're really set on it. Who better than me to try and make your introduction to gay sex an enjoyable experience. I say who better than me because my introduction wasn't with a considerate partner and it detracted a great deal from my first time experience. I'm determined to see that your first time is a memory you'll want to remember always." I'm also thinking of other first timers I've been with, like the special boy in Key West who I helped introduce to gay sex, and there have been others too. I always feel honored and humbled to be asked, and always try to make it good for them. Frankie nods his head, "I somehow knew you'd be the perfect person to do it with, Dylan. I don't know how I knew that exactly, but I knew, and, um, thanks." Feeling a little awkward all of a sudden, I go, "Yeah, well, uh, okay then. Yep, but lets do your haircut first, whaddaya say?" He nods his head again, then snickers, saying, "Okay, but I'm still stupidly nervous about that too."

We walk in off the balcony with me telling him, "Well fuck, Frankie, nobody's making you get this haircut. You don't need to get one on my account. Please don't feel you're doing me the favor because you're not." He looks at me, "Oh, you don't want to do it?" I snort, "It's not that I want to, or don't want to. It's what you want! Jeez, we can just as easily let it go until some other time if you prefer." He shakes his head, "Nah, I want a haircut, but I'm nervous about how I'll look, that's all. That natural, isn't it?" Closing the sliding glass door to the balcony, I mumble, "Yeah, change can be scary, I get that. I'll do the haircut however you want it. What kind of haircut you want doesn't matter to me other than I want you to be happy with it." He's taking his shirt off without me even telling him too, "I trust you, Dillie. You cut it the way you think I'll look best." I go, "Yeah? Okay then, as long as we understand each other. Ya know, we're making this whole thing much more dramatic than it needs to be. Millions of guys get haircuts all the fucking time." He makes a cute face at me, mumbling, "I'm well aware of that, Dillie, but I'm not interested in them. I'm interested in me and simply things are hard for me sometimes." I go, "Yeah, I guess, and stop calling me 'Dillie'."

Pulling the stool away from the kitchen bar, I pat the seat and Frankie sits down as I plug in the clippers. I'm not sure what haircut to give him. It's annoying that, like so many of the posse boys his age, Frankie wants me to decide on what haircut to give him. I think that's because none of them

want the responsibility of choosing, and I assume that's in case they don't like the haircut I chose. Then it's on me, my fault, not theirs. Kids! I comb his hair forward and the hair at the end of his bangs hangs below his chin, lower than the scraggily few whiskers on the bottom of his chin too. Hmmm, speaking of those scraggily chin whiskers, I'd like to help his beard grow in quicker. I've heard that shaving will do that. Combing his hair away from his face by parting it in the middle of his head again, I tell him, "Bonus grooming, Francis." Then I wet a dish towel with warm water as Frankie watches me with a questioning expression on his face. Handing the warm wet towel to a confused Frankie, I tell him, "Just hold that around your mouth and chin. I'm going to give you the full men's salon treatment, which includes a shave. Normally I charge twice as much, but for you, it'll be free. Wait here." He puts the warm wet towel on his face like I told him and watches me go into the bedroom. I get Robby's razor and shaving cream, then take them back to Frankie, telling him, "Fact is, you need a shave, dude." He laughs, "I didn't notice, but I'm in your hands, Dylan, whatever you say." I spread a small amount of shaving cream on his upper lip and chin, then notice some baby beard growth under the sideburns so I put dabs of shaving cream there too. Carefully shaving the areas where I put the shaving cream, grinning while I do it because I'm thinking about Chubby and me as dumb kids shaving our legs. Chubby would always go up too high on my thighs into my pubic hairs. We didn't know until much later, when we stopped the leg shaving, that the early hair on my legs never materialized into anything noticeable. All that shaving was a waste of time. It was sort of an intimate activity though... one we shared. Now the only shaving I do is when Robby and I shave each other's pubic hair. That's become a habit we're into and I intend continuing it because I like the way it looks and feels. Robby, on the

other hand has also begun shaving his recently developing beard too, although it's still in mostly an infancy stage.

It takes me all of a minute to shave Frankie and then I use the wet towel to wipe random shaving cream residue off his face. "There you are handsome boy, clean shaven and looking hot." He grins, "Can you really tell the difference?" I say, "Almost, yeah, ha ha. You hot shit." Back to the haircut, I again comb his hair forward and then take the scissors and cut across his bangs just above his eyebrows. Jesus, it's cool seeing those long blond hairs falling into his lap. He picks up a bunch, saying, "I'm in it now, no turning back." Actually he could easily turn back at this point. I'm remembering Billy of New York fame who has a long blond ponytail with bangs on his forehead much like Frankie's right now. Obviously it's a silly girlie 'look', but that's apparently what John wants Billy to look like. John thought I was going to grow my hair out and he'd cut bangs on me too, so I guess I'd be a back-up Billy. I suppose that was his plan. Hope he had a plan B! For his sake I mean, because me with a ponytail and bangs ain't happening in this lifetime. Now I'm combing up bunches of Frankie's long hairs on the sides and back of his head, then cutting through them with the scissors, "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch." I'm leaving hairs a couple of inches long all over his head. When I'm done doing that there's so much long blond hair all around my feet I stop to sweep it into a pile so I don't slip on it. Okay, now his two to three inch long hair is a manageable length to do something with it, but what?

Hmmm, I ask Frankie, "Do you want me to leave your hair long enough that you need to comb it every day, or would you rather not need to bother with that. You know, like my haircut for example, or a variation of it?" He says, "Well, the models we looked at had much longer hair on top of their heads than you do, but the hair on the sides and back was too short to comb." I go, "Oh, so one of those haircuts we looked at, huh?" He hunches his skinny shoulders clasping his hands together, "I don't know exactly, Dylan. You decide." Oh fuck, we're back to that again. I stand back trying to visualize different haircuts on him. Maybe something with mousse for maybe three inch long hairs on top of his head. Give it some style because as it is, his hair is wicked straight. Absolutely no wave or curl to it at all. I ask, "Um, have you ever used mousse in your hair?" He shakes his head, "Nah, I don't want to put glop in my hair." Okay, that's out. Well, while this won't be especially stylish, I can give him the longish preppy look I gave Travis earlier today. I tell Frankie I'll be using clippers, but there's no need for him to be nervous about it. Using the half inch guide for the clippers, I run them around his head halfway up the sides and back. Lots of blond hairs slide off the clipper blade to my hand on their way to the floor or Frankie's shoulders and lap. He looks so different already I'm thinking this might be too radical of a change for him. Nothing I can do about that now though. Most of the rest of his haircut I do with scissors and comb for the same reason I used then during Travis' haircut. Which is, these guys aren't used to hearing the clippers and it might scare the shit out of them if I used them for the whole haircut. It takes twice as long this way, but what the hell, it's fun for me cutting hair with scissors too.

When I'm satisfied the haircut's as good as it can be, I use the trimmer clippers outlining around his ears, then give him the handheld mirror. I need to stifle a laugh because he looks so different I half expect him to freak out when he sees himself. I'm smelling the back of my hand grinning at Frankie as he's frowning while gawking at himself holding the mirror at the side of his head, and on top of his head, then back to the front. He looks at me, "This is a damn nice haircut, Dylan, very professional looking. You really are good. Um, I look even younger now though, don't ya think?" I shrug, "A little I guess," and he says, "Lots of guys at school have haircuts similar to this so I'd fit in on that score. I kinda thought mine would be shorter on the sides though, and little sexier, ya know?" What the...? That surprises me! "Are you saying you would like it shorter?" He nods his head, "Yeah, like that cute blond model, heh heh. I wanna look like him." Yeah, well that's just swell, but he might have mentioned that earlier and saved me agonizing over what kind of haircut to give him. Picking up the clippers again, I use them the rest of the way up the sides and back just until his head begins curving to form a rounded top of his skull. This make the hairs on top look longer than three inches when contrasting with the half inch hairs on the sides and back of his head. This will now require some more scissor work making it look stylish, and now the cowlick at the crown is a problem so I buzz it to a half inch. Problem solved. Checking all around his head, I'm satisfied with how it looks. I ruffle the hairs on top but they lay flat. "Frankie, the blond model had mousse in his hair. Just a little." Actually I don't remember the blond model, but the pictures are sponsored by a brand of mousse so every model had some of it in his hair. Common sense tells me that. Frankie's looking at his hair again in the handheld mirror, his fingers feeling the half inch hair on the back of his head. Grinning at me he says, "It feels cool. I really like it, Dylan. Damn, it looks cool too. I'm styling! Thanks, dude!"

I shrug, "Yeah, how about some mousse though?" He says, "Yeah, this doesn't look like the model exactly." I get my tube of mousse and rub some between my hands spreading it on both palms, then grab batches of his hair and pull it up then pat it down a little. It gives his hair a thick-bodied appearance. He's watching me do it in the mirror. "Yeah, Dylan, that's it. Damn, that's cool! I can't even tell that you used mousse." He gingering bounces the palm of his hand on the top hairs, mumbling, "Perfect." Well, that's a better reaction then, 'I guess I'll get used to it in time,' like some of the reactions I've gotten lately. Patting Frankie's shoulder, I say, "Glad it worked out for you, Francis." He looks at me grinning, probably because I called him Francis. He goes, "You're teasing me with that 'Francis' shit, aren't you?" I go, "Nope, sometimes I think of you as a 'Francis' and sometimes as a 'Frankie'." He says in a serious way, "It's so much fun being with you, Dillie," then he laughs because he called me what I told him not to. Fuck it, I don't care. It's awesome seeing him smiling and enjoying himself.

We work together cleaning the hair off Frankie, and then getting his hair off the floor. There's lots of hair in the trash basket between Travis and Frankie. My mind's drifting back to Chubby and me as kids. The leg shaving was initiated by Chubby and back in the day I can remembering, and not caring a bit about it, me thinking that he was gay. That's when I inexplicably didn't think I was. I never asked him if he was, but it was on my mind back then. Thinking back to those wonderful days when we were inseparable, I'm pretty sure Chubby was grappling with his sexuality. On rare occasions he'd allow me to do oral sex on him telling himself and me that it's alright for us to do this because we're the closest best friends the world has ever seen, so therefore we're entitled to do with each other whatever we want. Oral sex was very rare though, like I said, and then on even rarer occasions he'd do anal sex with me. Very, very rare, maybe three times in our whole lives and none the last two years or so. Why I didn't consider the possibility of me being gay is another of my life's mysteries, but even on those rare occasions Chubby and I had what can only be described as gay sex I was always the 'bottom'. I gave oral sex to him and he gave anal sex to me. It never occurred to me that it should be any other way. Huh, it's interesting I've never had that thought before now. Chubby was late to the game of sex, but he finally settled on heterosexual relations and since then he's been, I'm guessing, almost as active with that as I am with the alternative sexual choice. Obviously, I also was late to the game, so I'm not inferring anything by mentioning that for either of us. Some come to sex later in life than others, that's all. Weird that we didn't recognize these facts when they were happening. There's no doubt in my mind though that those sexual experimentations we did together further cemented our bond, one that's so strong it brings tears of joy to my eyes just thinking about it. Chubby's basically been my idol growing up, and he still is.

As Frankie puts the broom and dust pan away, he asks, "Why so quiet, Dylan?" I go, "Oh, huh? Quiet? I was thinking about something, um, my brother and me." He asks, "Did you guys fight a lot growing up. Mark and me had some fights, but not many. He was a pretty good 'big brother' to me." Frankie did the finger quotation marks in air when he said, 'big brother'. I tell him, "No, my brother and I have never had a fight in our lives. Not with each other anyway." Then I mumble, almost to myself, "He and I are the closest best friends and brothers the world has ever seen," and my eyes feel hot when I mumbled that. Frankie of course laughs, "Riiight, Dillie. Ha ha, the world's never seen anything like you two, huh?" I don't blame him for laughing because it's a preposterous statement, albeit a true one. I grin at him without commenting, then say, "Do you want to get naked together and see what

pops up?" He laughs, "Okay, the haircut turned out to be nothing I needed to be nervous about so I'm switching my nervousness to sex," and he giggles nervously. He should be a little nervous, losing your cherry's not a minor thing and I'm glad he doesn't think it is. When he stops his nervous giggling, I say, "This is a big deal and not one to take lightly, Francis. Convince me you want to do it with me tonight. Can you do that?" He gets serious and frowns, "I feel awkward, Dylan. What should I say. You tell me what I need to say and I'll say it, okay?" I shake my head, "I can't tell you what you're thinking. You're the only person on earth who can know that." He comes over and hugs me putting the side of his face on my shoulder. "Please don't make me beg, but I need to know about my sexuality. Christ, I'm almost nineteen now. I know what I think I want. I want to experience what I've speculated on and dreamed about and watched being done on videos. And most importantly I've finally found the perfect person to do it with. You."

Oh boy! Okay, that's pretty convincing alright. The side of face is still against my shoulder so my fingers ruffle the short hairs on the side of his head, such a different feeling than his hair felt a half hour ago. It's a sexier feel to me because it's more a male feel than his long hair was, although that was sexy too because I knew it was on a eighteen year old guy's head. What if I was blindfolded and didn't know? I couldn't tell if it was sexy or not. Some women buzz their hair, and it sometimes looks sexy on them if they have the right face to go with it, but if I knew it was a woman's buzzed hair I was feeling my brain couldn't process it as sexy. Isn't that odd? Between Frankie's long hair and this, although both are sexy to varying degrees, this is by far the sexiest to me. Why is that? I don't have a fucking clue. And why do I waste brain power wondering about things like this?

I say, "Okay. First let me tell you honestly that I'm honored you want me to help you discover what you're searching for, Frankie. Let's go into my bedroom." He nods his head clinging to me, murmuring, "Thank you, Dylan." As we walk to my bedroom, I'm making a mental note in my head to change the sheets afterwards. I do that out of respect for my true lover, Robby. Whenever I have sex with someone in our bed, and it isn't all that often, I change the sheets afterwards. In the past it's mostly been with Ryan, but like I said, only rarely. Inside my bedroom I close and lock the door. In my side-sex handbook, tip # 765 says it's always a good idea to lock the door and thereby reducing greatly the chances of someone coming in to say 'hi' and embarrassing the shit out of the buddy sex partners. I smile at Frankie, asking, "Just double checking, but you've never had sex with anyone before, right?" He nods his head, mumbling, "Not even close, Dylan, but I already told

you that." I go, "Yeah, ya did. Um, do you want me to use a condom?" He says, "No, why?" I don't have one anyway so maybe I was subconsciously looking for an excuse to put this off to some other time. It's sorta is a big responsibility, so ya know I don't take it lightly. I say, "You should always use a condom, Frankie. I've been sexually active for a few years now and never transmitted anything to anyone so we'll pass on the condom for your first time, but don't let anyone else pass on it. Okay, promise?" He says, "I'm not twelve years old, Dylan, you don't need to talk down to me. I know the score, I just haven't been in the game yet."

I hold up my hands, "Okay, sorry! I just felt I should say that, and now I said it." He shrugs his skinny shoulders, muttering, "I'm sorry too, I didn't mean to snap at you, I'm kinda up tight. And yes, I want very much to do this, but I'm a little apprehensive that I'll do something stupid to mess it up." I squeeze the back of his neck, "Being apprehensive is totally understandable, Frankie." He already has his shirt off so I take mine off. It's pitch black outside of course. Lately it's been getting dark around four-thirty and now it's almost seven-thirty. Dropping my pants, but leaving my underpants on, I say, "I'm going to turn out the overhead light, but I'll leave the desk lamp on." I'm doing that because it might be better for Frankie not to be under a spot light, but I don't want to tell him that. Instead by way of explanation, I mumble, "I do that because I prefer doing sex in dim light or no light." That's a lie of course, I'd have sex under a hot sun blaring down on us. The dim lighting's for Frankie. He has his sneakers, socks, and jeans off now, standing there in the jockey shorts I gave him a couple of hours ago. His arms are crossed on his chest as he stares at every move I make.

In the dim light from the small desk lamp I drop my underwear. I've never, in my recollection, ever been shy about being naked in front of anyone. Maybe that's because Chubby and me for a number of preteen years took baths together. It seemed natural and neither one of us thought anything about it. Frankie's gawking at my groin. Obviously because my pubic hairs have been shave. He's sucking on his bottom lip for a few seconds, then he looks up from my package, and announces, "You shave your pubes." I chuckle, "Yes, I know. My boyfriend and I do it for each other. It's sexy don't ya think?" He shrugs, "It's pretty fucking gay," and he laughs, adding, "But, yeah it does look sexy." Then he takes off his underpants, saying, "I'm sure glad I showed you my dick earlier and got that over with," and he looks down at it. It looks smaller than the first time I saw it. He goes, "It shrinks sometimes, but makes a boner that's much bigger than this. Or at least a little bigger," as he points at it as if I don't know where it is. I suck on my lips so I don't grin and he mistakenly thinks I'm making fun of his penis. I'm not, but he's funny the way he's both resigned and frustrated by his penis at the same time. Hoping this helps him feel better about his dick, I say, "Do you think you'd mind if I sucked on that dick of yours. It looks tasty as hell." He says, "Mind? I'd love that! Oh man, if I could I'd have sucked it myself to see how that feels."

I hadn't planned on doing this, but say, "It looks good to me," allowing myself to grin now, and he says, "You're so full of it, but I'll pretend you're serious." I tell him, "How about you sit on the edge of the bed and I'll do this the right way." He nods his head and walks over to plop himself on the edge of the bed. His feet don't reach the floor, just like Ryan. I get on my knees and spread his legs, and they are on the skinny side. Not as thin as Cory's though. Picking up his pricklet and licking the pointy head makes Frankie squirm. I'm wondering how human genes could conspire to come up with a penis like this one? Nature's either a flat-out bitch or has a bitchy sense of humor. Sucking on the head for ten seconds and the damn thing bones up tightly while adding a littler girth and extending out to it's four inch length. That was fast. Frankie goes, "Aaaah, oooh fuccck!" Sucking the whole thing into my mouth, my nose against his belly surrounded by brown pubic hairs, his scent is very pronounced now. It's a boyish body-needs-a-bath scent, but not the least bit offensive to me, and actually I like it. No fish market down here. Licking the head and shaft with my busy tongue as my lips suck on it gets Frankie's moving all around, lifting himself off the mattress a little and settling back down, then up again, all the times doing a mixture of moaning and grunting out words like, "Mmm, oh shit, oooh,

ummm, fuck, aaaah." I'm grinning around his swollen organ and then use my fingers to push his nuts inside my mouth with his penis. It's a mouthful now and his squirming, lifting, and moving on the bed makes the head of his cock repeatedly bump into the gag reflex area of my throat causing my eyes to water. It's sexy for me, but comical too and consequently my boner's not especially hard. Then Frankie grabs behind my head pulling my face tight against him, squished on his belly, as he slides off the bed standing and humping his hips two times. The second hump produces a long stream of cum in my mouth and a, "AHHHHH!" from Frankie. Then three more humps and three more spurts of cum. He sits back on the bed pulling his cock and balls from my mouth and moans, then lays back on the bed, his chest heaving.

Sitting back on my ankles I watch his deep breathing, his rib cage visible when his chest expands. He's stroking his cock quietly moaning. Huh, there it was... my first ninety second blow job. I'm quietly smacking my lips tasting his cum, and it's oddly sweet. Someone else's cum is sweet. I forget who's, but I know it's someone who eats a lot of candy. Maybe Bean. I ask, "What's your favorite candy, Francis?" He sits up, red in the face, grinning at me. Then he exclaims, "That's the strongest climax I've ever had. I thought the fucking world was coming to an end." I'm like, "Oh, really? What's your favorite candy?" He says, "Anything sweet I love. I eat too much candy and you see the three acne spots on my chin that I get from eating the candy." I stand up, saying, "Candy doesn't give you pimples. They're a result of hormonal changes in your body. You're probably through with that except for an occasional blemish now and then." He shrugs, "That was amazing, Dylan, but can we still do the fuck?" I go, "Sure, but only after a little while to give your gonads a chance to build up some more spunk. Ya wanna get an ice cream sundae for a dessert to our meatloaf dinner?" He frowns, "I don't have any money, Dylan. I told you that, and I can't let you buy me everything." I ask, "Why not? You're my date tonight." He grins, "Your date? Oh fuck, my first date. Oh God, you're so fucking awesome!" I shrug modestly,

and he adds, "Still, I feel like a moocher letting you pay for everything." Smelling the back of my hand, I'm thinking how I tried refusing free beer from Tracy because it might seem like he was paying me to have sex with him. Wait a second... with Frankie I'm doing him the favor. He should be paying me, hahaha.

Taking Frankie's arm, I'm pulling him up off the bed, "What's a sundae between friends, Frankie. Next time you buy me the sundae, okay." He stands smiling, "Can I believe it? Not only do you say we're on a date and that you're my friend, but you mentioned a next time. Am I dreaming?" I squeeze the back of his neck, "You don't give yourself enough credit, Francis. I'm having a good time and I'm damn glad to be with you tonight." He mutters, "Thanks, but it's a much bigger special event for me." We get our clothes on and wash up a little, then we're out into the cold weather again. As we're walking to the far end of the parking lot I see five or six good parking spots close to the door that opened up after I parked way the fuck in the back of the lot. Humph, to that! I drive us to Dugans, which is a good ice cream joint and a hangout during the summer I'm told. Frankie opens up a little more about himself during the drive. He tells me he has issues with certain foods and claims it's a texture issue more than one of taste. He can't eat things like raw onions or most cooked vegetables. Also he can't abide meat on a bone like chicken wings or ribs. Those are two awesome food items in my book, but he can't eat them because his teeth might scrape the bone. He also feels he's socially challenged, finding it almost impossible to strike up a conversation or call someone on the phone, although he can text. If somehow he gets to know a person he's fine after that, or if he knew them before he was twelve years old he fine with them too.

It all sounds, as I suspected earlier, like Frankie has some degree of Asperger's syndrome. I learned about that from talking with Cory the time he saved me after my New York debacle. He'd self diagnosed himself with a mild form of that syndrome from listing his concerns and symptoms on Google. Frankie tells me he began noticing he had these issues around age eleven or so. It's also why he can't force himself to apply for a part time job. He freezes up totally trying to do something like that. Yet, he spoke to me okay. I asked him about that and he tells me it took every ounce of courage and determination he could come up with to speak to me, and if I had in any way rejected him he'd go scurrying away as fast as he could go. He adds, "If you'd have told me to get lost I'd probably have run the Mustang into the gas pump from embarrassment. Also, it helped a lot that I've seen you a few times and thought you were the cutest, sexiest, nicest guy ever, so that was a powerful motivator right there." Jeez, the demons some kids fight every day that most of us have no idea about. I look at him with a concerned expression, and he shrugs, saying, "I'm learning to live with it, Dylan, and forcing myself to do things that others do without thinking." I ask, "Like what?" and he says, "Making eye contact for one thing. I hate doing that, but I make a conscious effort to look into the person's eyes I'm talking to. Not constantly, but on and off during a conversation like normal people do."

Pulling into Dugans' parking lot I'm trying to think of encouraging words, but his situation is so unusual I figure keeping my advise to myself is my best move. Not that I don't believe him, but it's hard to believe someone can't stand eating a chicken wing because he might scrape the bone with his teeth. We get out and I pat his back, "Well, you know me now so the hard part's over, right?" He says, "The hardest part, yes, but only because you're so fucking nice." I go, "Aah, everybody tells me that," and he laughs, then says, "I wonder if Rich Davidson would say that." It takes me a few seconds to remember who that is. And then, ah yes, he's the asshole bagger in Stop & Shop who tried to scam five bucks off Frankie. Inside Dugans we walk over to the counter and stand behind a guy and a girl waiting our turn. Then I hear, "Dylan, sit over here." I turn around and give Dougie and Jamie, a grin and a wave." "Who are they?" Frankie asks, and I tell him briefly about meeting Dougie back home and that he and Jamie are freshman at Merrimack. I do not mention they're gay. Frankie's looking back, whispering, "They'er cute, don'cha think?" I'm like, "Yeah, I guess."

Neither of us gets a sundae. Frankie gets a chocolate ice cream cone and I get a root beer float. It's not as crowded here as I imagine it gets in the summer, but there's more people getting their ice cream 'fix' than I'd have expected. We make our way over to where Dougie and Jamie are sitting and they get up and give me a hug with a couple of pats on the back. Then I introduce Frankie to the roommates, who then give him a hug, "Nice meeting you, dude." Frankie nods his head blushing a little. We sit down and Jamie asks Frankie and me, "Do either of you guys know what pointillism is?" I slurp some of my root beer float through a straw, burp, then say, "Of course not, Jamie," and Dougie says, "See! It's not just me." Jamie's shaking his head like he can't believe us dummies. Then Frankie mumbles, "Is it like painting a picture?" Jamie's eyes open wide, "Yes, exactly! See, it's a well know type of art where the artist paints a picture using a couple million small dots or tiny strokes of his brush. Like Paul Signac or George Seurat." Dougie laughs, "Seurat?' emphasizing the second syllable, 'RAT'. Then adds, "You made those names up!" Jamie asks Frankie, "Did I make those names up, Frankie?" He goes, "I don't know." Well who cares anyway, and how'd Frankie know that word meant a style of painting. The thing is, I'm not asking because it'll just prolong this discussion and what I don't need is a headache. I ask, "How you guys doing?" They both claim they need haircuts and I'm thinking that's their code word for another three-way sex-a-thon. I leave it alone for now.

We talk about Merrimack stuff and they tell me they joined a candlepin bowling tournament. They need four guys and they have another prospect for the third guy. Dougie goes, "Hey, I got a brainstorm! Dylan could be the fourth guy on our candlepin bowling team," then he asks me, "Do you do candlepin bowling?" I shrugs, "Um, I've done it, yeah. I'm not too good though." I ask, "What bowling team?" Manny tells me there a league forming that will begin the first of the year at the Methuen Lanes. Four man teams bowl eight Sundays in a row to determine the top four teams, and they will then have a playoff for the championship. They're looking for a fourth teammate. I say, "I'm not interested in a bowling league, sorry." Dougie says to Frankie, "How about you, we're practicing after school, I can give you a ride." Frankie frowns, looks at me, then back at Dougie, and says, "I don't, um, how much does it cost?" The poor kid. He's embarrassed he can't even pay for a couple of strings of candlepins.

The roommates look at each other, then Jamie says, "It doesn't cost much, but, um, are you working, by any chance?" Frankie shakes his head 'no'. Jamie says to Dougie, "That part time gig you just started. They're looking for help, right?" and Dougie's like, "Um, yeah. This guy manages the stock room at Kohl's. You know, the one in the North Andover Mall. I work there on Saturdays and two nights a week. It's minimum wage, but that's not bad nowadays. Anyway, they need to replace the guy I was working with because he was caught stealing stuff. Got his ass fired. He was on drugs too I think." Frankie's eyes light up, "Really, a job? I'd love to do that but I don't have wheels," and Dougie's, "Oh, no car, huh. Where do you live?" Frankie tells him and Dougie's like, "Huh, really? That's like two minutes from Khol's, I'll pick you up, dude, no sweat. Whaddaya say? Part time job and be on our bowling team." Frankie looks at me, asking, "Um, what do you think, Dylan?" which catches me totally off guard. What the fuck's he asking me for? Then I say to Dougie, "He's kidding, ha ha. Of course he wants the job. He's just a bit of a kidder." Dougie pats Frankie's shoulder, slowly telling him, "I'll put in a good word for you. It'll be fun working with you. Text me directions to your house and after school tomorrow we'll go to the store and you fill out some paperwork, but it's not much. Do you have a social security number? You're going to North Andover high school, right?" They talk about the job a little, then exchange cellphone numbers. Glancing at Frankie and seeing he's still huddled with Dougie, I nod at Dougie and Frankie, telling Jamie, "This is good. You guy's taking Frankie under your wing like this, that's awesome. He can use a few breaks and a few friends." He asks, "How'd ya meet him?" I go, "Haircut, ya know," and Jamie asks, "Why doesn't he have friends?" and I go, "I'll fill you in when you come over for a haircut." He nods his head looking at Frankie. I'm obviously not going to tell the roommates Frankie's gay, just that he's socially challenged. Frankie's gayness is for him to tell the roommates, or the roommates to tell him for that matter. That's if any of them ever feels the urge to do that. All three of them are in the closet with the single exception being the roommates know about each other

It makes me feel so fucking good seeing Frankie excited and actually meeting some guys that he can be friends with. Dougie and Jamie are good guys and once Frankie makes a couple of friends he'll feel much better about life in general. Maybe he'll even find himself having a good time as a teenager. And that part-time job! Oh my God, it's so perfect. He'd have a really hard time getting one by himself due to his social-interaction handicap. Having a job handed to him like Dougie just did is so unexpected and awesome. I'm really happy for Frankie and relieved too because now I won't need to feel as bad for him as I was feeling. What if I hadn't got this urge for some Dugans ice cream though? Damn, it's awesome when something random like this works out in such a good way. The four of us talk for awhile and then the roommates need to get back to their dorm. Probably to screw.

On the ride back to the apartment Frankie's exuberant. "Dylan, today's been unbelievable! I can hardly believe it. Meeting you and through you meeting those two awesome college guys. Jamie is a really nice guy, and Dougie getting me a job! Wow. Is Jamie smart? That was a really esoteric word he came up with?" I shrug, asking, "How'd you know it meant a painting style? Are you some kind of brainiac?" He goes, "I do alright in school. I'm working towards getting at least a partial scholarship, but right now I'm really excited about the job! Oh man, to have some coin in my pocket. My first paycheck I'm gonna pay you back for today." I say, "Don't you dare, Francis! That would insult me," and he's like, "Well, I'll treat you to dinner or something then. It'll be so nice to have a little money and a couple of new friends. I owe it all to you too. Dude, I can't thank you enough. You've like changed my life." I mumble, "You're giving me too much credit. The guys liked you for you for yourself, not because I introduced you to them." Ha asks, "Do you think I should be on their bowling team?" I go, "Absolutely!"

He's all fidgety and excited. The most excited I've seen him get in the relatively short time I've known him. Well, he got pretty excited about the blow job too. Oh yeah, that reminds me he wants to get laid. I don't know if I should or not. I say, "Ya know, it's getting kind of late and it is a school night for you. How 'bout if I drop you off at your place." He goes, "Oh, um, I don't have to be home. Nobody's there. Can I hang out with you a little longer? And you know, you were going to introduce me to some more sex. That would make this day one to remember forever. It's already been like the best day of my life." Hard to say no to that. I nod, "Yeah, okay," then I wonder if I should stop at Rite Aid and buy a condom even though we talked about not using one earlier. I go, "I think I'll buy a condom first," and he's like, "Not for my benefit, Dylan, I'd rather do it the real way." Well, I don't really feel like going through the condom buying routine anyway. Always an embarrassing experience I'd imagine! I mumble, "Okay, we won't get one." He says, "You are so awesome it's mind boggling." What the fuck, it feels really good to think you're making someone happy, and I'm never against getting laid anyway, so it's a win-win situation where I get to be the hero. That doesn't happen very often.

Just to be safe I text Robby asking how he's doing. He doesn't text back so he must be at the movies. Yeah, but if he went to a seven o'clock feature, for example, it'd be over about now. They'd probably do something after the movie, but I can't be sure, so I say, "Frankie, you're sure no one will be home at your house, right? The reason I ask is my roommate, one of them, could walk in on us while we're in the act." He says, "My brother probably won't be home till later." That word 'probably' isn't good enough. I say, "Yeah, but he might be home. We'll have to screw in the pickup. Many first fuck's are in a car anyway, and that goes equally for heterosexuals as well as us gay guys. What do you say to that?" He goes, "Sounds like fun. Where would we go though?" Good question. Back in Framingham I know a few places. Where Robby and I have screwed in this pickup? Oh, yeah, that strip mall, but first, "Frankie I need to pick up something at the apartment," and he just nods his head. I need that lubricant that Sonny left here from that time he shoved a dildo up my ass.

In our apartment's parking lot, I leave the pickup idling at the front door and hop out , saying, "Be right back." Using my key I let myself in and run up the steps. If Robby's here it'll be awkward. The apartment's empty though, so no worries. It takes me a minute going through the stuff in the cabinet under the bathroom sink. Then, ah ha, here it is. Putting it in my pocket, I grab a handful of tissues for use later. Back in the car Frankie's looking a little anxious, unless it's excitement I'm seeing in his expression. This is about the third or fourth cherry I've been honored to take. Ya never know how it'll go. Didn't go too good a couple of times because some guys are, unfortunately for them, unable to take a hard cock up their ass. A shame really. I'm kinda looking forward to 'topping' for a change too. Different sensation, very hot, but I still prefer to bottom. When I'm in the driver's seat, Frankie asks, "Did you get what you wanted?" I go, "Yep," and explain about lube easing the way, especially for first timers. He goes, "I can't wait. This is so exciting, Dylan." Huh.

Driving to the end of the strip mall near the Lawrence, North Andover border it's just as I remembered. The Subway Shop is the only store open in the strip of stores. Two cars outside Subway, but nothing else. At the far end I drive around to the side of the building, parking away from the dumpster. There's only a weak light up on the roof line of the building illuminating the inside of the pickup about as much as the moon. We can see each other, but not well except the light shines off Frankie's eyeballs and presumably mine too. I say, "This is a spot my boyfriend and me have used a time or two. Let's get in the back." I leave the heater blaring so it's nice and cozy in here. In the back seat, Frankie asks, "Should I get undressed?" I nod, "Yeah, get naked," and pull off my sweatshirt. We get naked and since Frankie took me literally he pulls off his socks, so I do too. I put my arms around him and he lays against me with his forehead against the side of my chin. There's something very special about the feel of a guy's naked body. Frankie's a little too slim, but he still feels good. His skin feels so youthful and smooth as I'm rubbing the palms of my hands over his body. The smell of his body still has that touch of a 'needs-a-bath' overtone combining with his natural boyish and kinda sexy, more prominent scent. I take a deep breath inhaling his scent and feel my cock tighten a little. Kissing the side of his forehead he lifts his face and I lean down for a slow wet kiss and then our tongues slide together. My hand rubs up the back of his head into the recently short cut hairs. Mostly the shampoo scent has evaporated and a clean hair scent takes it's place that's very nice.

We make out for maybe five minutes. I'd like to do it longer because Frankie's youth and innocence is sexily attractive, but his boner's already dripping precum on me, and he's moaning with sexual arousal, so I'm thinking he might have another premature ejaculation. My lips slide off his easily as we've spread a bit of our combined saliva around our mouths and chins. Kissing his cheek I murmur, "Lay on your stomach now, Frankie." He gasps, nods his head, and lies on the seat. It's hot in here now and were sweating a little, which is kinda sexy too. I spread his legs and get between them, telling him, "Rest your feet against the side window." I get the lubricant from my pants on the floor, squeeze out a big gob and push my lube-covered finger against his anus. Then, twirling my finger around it a couple of times, I slip the tip inside and Franking goes, "Aaaah," lifting his ass off the seat. I murmur, "It's just my finger," and push it in deeper moving my finger around spreading the lube. Pulling my finger out, Frankie drops his butt down on the seat. Well, it's his crotch that's on the seat, to be accurate. Frankie says, "I think I'm going to cum," and I mutter, "Don't do that, okay?" Getting lube on my index and middle fingers, I push both of them inside his asshole and he squirms, moaning on the seat. Fucking his asshole with both fingers for about thirty seconds loosen it up a little. I pull my fingers out and spread lube on my boner stifling a moan because it feels so good sliding my hand up and down my slippery hard cock. Taking a deep breath, I quietly say, "Relax as much as you can, Frankie," and guide my cock to his slippery asshole and put some pressure on it. It slides in tightly and Frankie goes, "Ow! Ooh!" so I wait a little bit and then push it in a little further with Frankie blowing out a noisy exhale, but not screaming. Holding my breath, I push my cock in a little more and he raises his ass again, grunting, "Wait! Can you wait a second?"

I wait a little while, then ask, "You okay, Frankie?" He says, "It's so tight! It's like I have a log up my ass." "Doesn't it feel good?" He goes, "Not yet, but don't stop, please." Frankie goes, "Oooow," as I push in another inch and then another inch. I'm three quarters of the way in and my cock's throbbing making my head shake a little. I'm waiting a bit, leaning over Frankie quietly saying, "You're doing great, Francis," and then I give the back of his head a kiss to encourage him. I do a pushup off him and get back on my knees. He says, "I'm good, Dylan, it's starting to feel better," so I lean in against him and my boner slides in the rest of the way with my belly against his plump little butt cheeks. He's too thin maybe, but not his buttocks which is a nice bubble butt. Huh, a damn sexy ass on this kid. Feels good inside him too. Very tight and like brand new. It gives me a thrill to be the first one to stick a cock up here. All of a sudden his shoulders shudder like mind do, and I hear, "Mmmm, oooh, fuck. It feels good now, Dylan, oh God, ooh." I withdraw slowly as Frankie moans, "Ummmm. ooh, ooh," and then slowly my boner goes right back up his tight rectum. I do a slow, but steady four trips in and back getting my shoulders shuddering now. My cock is alive with untold numbers of sexy nerve endings announcing themselves, and goddamn my cock feels wicked good.

A couple of thrusts and I stop, asking, "Feel okay, Frankie?" He goes, "Better and better, but I know I'm gonna cum and second now." Pulling my cock out of his ass, he goes, "Aaaah, nooo." I'm like, "Just a second, Frankie" as I'm reaching down to the floor for my pants again. I take out the wad of tissues and pass them to Frankie, "Put these under the head of your cock to sop up your spunk when you cum." He does that as I line up my boner, and slide it smoothly and tightly right back up his ass and lay against his buttocks savoring the sensations coming off my cock. So nice, jeez, "Ummm, that feels good," and he goes, "Me too. Would you do it some more?" I grunt, "Of course," and grip his hips, pulling up to raise his ass, "Hold your ass up a little, Frankie. Yeah, like that," and, with a good hold on his hips I start a steady fucking and "Slap, slap, slap, slap," sound of me smacking into his butt cheeks echo off the inside of the pickup's cabin. God it feels good. Soon, with sensations growing stronger, it's impossible not to pick up the speed of my thrusting, my hips moving now seemingly with a mind of their own. The friction of his rectum walls on my cock, especially the incredibly sensitized head, becomes overwhelming and my body squirms, my shoulders moving and my head going back as I continue fucking his tight ass. My orgasm is coming on me faster than I expected and now I'm afraid I'll climax before him. I start slamming my cock up his ass even faster and harder. There a constant buzzing in my ears to go with the sounds of male fucking, "SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP!" and our moans of sexual pleasure. I realize the buzzing is Frankie's constant like whine, not moans, "Aaaaaah, aaaah, oooooh," in a desperate whiny manner. It's actually kind of arousing to be supplying him with this sexual experience. Frankie's struggling on the seat now, his hips humping, his back arching, his feet making squeaking sounds as his toes slide back and forth on the back door window behind me. He's gonna blow!

It's on me now, the urge to climax and it's going to be awesome. All these almost new sensations from 'topping' are exciting and thrilling. I don't do this often so the sensations are intensified whenever I top, I think the same thing: 'Why don't I do this more often?' Now I'm pulling his ass into my thrust as he moans, his body almost limp in my hands, and then a long breathy exhale from Frankie, his once limp body stiff now, his back arches again, and he thrusts he hips gasping. I hear his cum splatter against the seat. Fascinated, I stop thrusting and watch a stream of his cum shoot out his cock that's now a steel spike, the cum splashing against the side door as he struggles in my hands making gasping sounds. He jerks a couple more time and then goes limp again laying flat on the seat, but limply his body keeps moving like he's rubbing his cock against the seat. Guess he missed the tissues. That was a hot orgasm for sure though, and I start thrusting my cock in his ass again aroused by his climax. Frantically humping my cock up his ass now I regain the sense of impending climax that had drifted a little when I stopped to watch young Frankie have his first orgasm being fucked in the ass. Quite a day he'll surely remember, me too.

His tight, previously virgin rectum is massaging my throbbing boner. I can see the muscles in his buttocks clenching as the sensations from nerve ending inside him are again responding to the friction my boner's creating in his rectum. I'm lifting his hips a little while hammering my cock inside him, my head goes back as I'm gasping and moaning, my shoulders shuddering the same way they do when my ass is being fucked. My buttocks clench and my anus feels a phantom boner sliding past it. Frankie's got his hand under him, holding but not stroking his cock and moaning again as all the muscles in my body seems to tighten and then, "Eeee, ummm, ooh fuck." I'm tight against his ass humping against it pouring cum inside him, my eyes tightly closed as I grimace savoring too many sensations coming from my cock, too many to separate them... they're all blended together into one huge orgasm. It's one long intense sexual relief felt all around my lower stomach and inside my thighs near my balls, "Aaaa, fuck," as I hump against his ass hard, pushing him forward on the seat and more spunk traveling up from my balls tantalizing my six inches of boner and leaving my cock's head vibrating while shooting more spunk inside Frankie's bowels. Jesus! That felt good, but I keep on thrusting making little whiny sounds until the sizzling sensations of orgasm leave me with that momentary but familiar weak feeling. Laying against Frankie's ass, my cock still snugly inside him, I'm breathing deeply concentrating on the last luscious buzzing from that orgasm. Another deep breath followed my a half dozen lazy thrusts in his ass and then I pull my cock out and sit back on his legs.

We're like that for a minute still breathing heavily and then I lift up and help Frankie get his legs out from under me so he can sit up next to me. He leans against me, his sweaty forehead on my chest with my arm across his narrow shoulders. I look at him and smile. Huh, Frankie with his new haircut, one that looks so much better than the stringy long hair he had before. Of course that's not the only thing new about Frankie... he's no longer a virgin. After a bit of hugging and snuggling against me, he says, "Thank you, that was the hottest climax I ever had, and I thought I had the hottest ever when you sucked me off earlier. I don't know if my heart could take anything hotter than this though. I thought I was going to pass out." He sits back holding his dick in his fist. I go, "Your dick didn't let you down, did it? I saw one of your shots of spunk, the one against the door, and it was really moving." He chuckles, "I'm holding my dick like this so it doesn't fall off. Yeah, it felt otherworldly during my climax." He's shaking his head slowly, "It's pretty much unbelievable how good that felt, Dylan. At first though I was thinking this wasn't gonna work because it really hurt inside me, like something broke in there." I ask, "By any chance, are you sitting on anything wet?" He goes, "Yeah, I am. My cum from the first explosion is squished under me. I thought my balls broke open. Jesus!" I'm chuckling and remembering my first fuck. I thought my cock and balls had exploded too.

I get him leaning against the back of the front seat while I wipe as much of my cum off his ass and the back of his legs as I can. Then we both scrub the seat and side door. He starts getting dressed as I clean my cock with the rest of the tissues. His cum won't leave a stain because the seats aren't leather and I'll clean back here with some vinyl spray cleaner. A lot of spunk has been shot in this pickup before tonight, and now Frankie's added to it. When we're dressed and back in the front seat, I put the car in drive and pull away thinking that went about as well as it could have. Glancing over at Frankie I see him smiling to himself and why not... he had a very productive day today. Made two friends, got a part time job and a new 'look' with a new hair style, got his cock sucked and lost his cherry. I don't think I ever had a day as good as that one myself, and tomorrow we have no classes except Robby wants to study for finals. That's no fun, but it's better than classes.

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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