DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR
Chapter 67
by Donny Mumford
Connor and I had a good a walk on the beach catching up a little on each other's lives. We also had a sexy adventure together in a small outdoor building of some sort. I think it's an air conditioning shed. It was hot having sex outside, 'hot' in both sense of the word. We're about a mile up the beach from where we setup our beach chairs, so during the next half hour we swim towards our spot on the beach, then walk down the beach for awhile, then swim again. It's been a good day even though it began with hangovers, then the six of us rode through the Everglades on a airboat and had a tour through the Sawgrass Park seeing wildlife and stuff, ending with Chubby cuddling a baby alligator until it tried biting him. Connor's one of my favorite friends and someone I really care about and admire. He's overcome a difficult childhood growing up in very poor conditions and he did it with a smile and without complaining. Very sweet guy who deserves some good things happening to him. It's been awesome spending time alone with him this afternoon and I hope we get more time together during the last three days of spring break.
We swim into shore, then I'm like, "Damn, I thought we'd have seen our stuff on the beach by now." Walking up on sand towards the promenade, looking around, Connor goes, "Hey, I think we swam too far up the beach, Dylan. Look, that's where we had lunch," as he points up the beach to a restaurant on the promenade." I gawk at where he's pointing and mumble, "Yeah, you're right. We've gone too far. Lets walk back until we run into the guys." Ten minutes later I stop walking, "There's Vinnie and Dodger." They're playing touch football on the beach with guys I don't know. We watch the game for a couple of minutes and then continue on to our chairs. Plopping down in my beach chair and pulling my wet box of Marlboros from my pocket, I go, "Whoa, I'm tired. Heh heh, Connor, look what I did to my box of cigarettes." He chuckles, "Yeah, they're not waterproof boxes obviously." He reaches in the canvas bag he brought to the beach earlier and gets his cigarettes. As we light them Chubby and Robby come up from a swim giving us a wave and a smile. Sexy boys. They both grab a towel from their chairs wiping their faces. Robby asks, "Where have you guys been?" Connor says, "Walking the beach," and I add, "We went up for those fresh lemonades and then drifted down the beach talking."
They sit down to sunbath a little and dry off. I ask, "How come you guys aren't in the touch football game with Vinnie and Dodger?" Robby says, "I don't feel too good, Dylan. I really got fucked up last night. You'd think I'd know by now I can't handle shots of whiskey." Chubby asks, "How many did you have?" Robby shrugs, "I lost count." I mumble, "Robby threw up last night, Chub." Chubby says, "Oh yeah? I've been there, done that. Nothing worse than heaving your guts up feeling like your balls are coming up too. It kicks the hell outta you." I say, "That might be a little too graphic, bro. He's just not feeling real good." Chubby makes a face at me, muttering, "Too graphic, my ass." I say, "Robby, you were okay after breakfast so what happened?" He nods, "Yeah, I was trying to convince myself I was feeling okay, but mostly I felt like shit. I shouldn't drink at all." Come to think of it Robby had very little to say during our Everglades adventure. I kinda thought it was because we were right in front of that noisy big-ass fan that propelled the boat. I rub Robby's shoulder, "Sorry you're feeling bad. Maybe a good dinner is what you need." He shakes his head, "I don't even feel like eating. Maybe some soup." Chubby asks, "Should we hold off on the trip to Disney World until Friday, Rob? You might not be feeling up to it tomorrow and it doesn't really matter which day we go." Robby says, "Well, I'm planning on staying in tonight. No drinking for me, just get some more sleep. I should be good to go tomorrow." I say, "Ah Rob, don't stay in the room tonight. We're on spring break." He sighs, "I'm sorry, Dylan, but I feel like shit." Chubby asks, "Are you sure it's just a hangover?" Robby shrugs, "I hope that's all it is. It's not like I have a cold or anything. Nah, it's just that I can't drink. I basically suck." He's really bummed out.
Finished my cigarette, I want to do something to help Robby, so I ask, "How about an ice cold lemonade. They're deliciously refreshing. Right Connor?" He goes, "Yeah, I'll get one for you, Rob," and Robby's like, "Gee thanks guys, that sounds good," then he slowly gets up and spreads his towel on the beach, saying, "I'm gonna lay down a while." Chubby asks, "What time is it, bro?" I check my watch, "Almost five-thirty," and he's like, "I could go for a lemonade myself. You stay with Robby, Connor and I will get the drinks." They walk off as I look at Robby laying on his stomach. "Would you like some sun screen, Rob?" He goes, "That's nice of you, babe, but your brother and I lathered up an hour ago. We did each other's back." Trying to get a smile out of Robby, I ask, "Is my brother trying to steal my boyfriend from me?" He goes, "Yeah, right, that'll be the day. No, we just helped each
other out, that's all. Your brother's too straight to do any messing around." Serious answer… so much for getting a chuckle out of him. I go back to gawking at the sixteen year boy who's now grinning cutely while talking to two girls. Huh, those two cunts probably have the hots for my boy, not that I blame them… the bitches. Stay away from my fantasy boy, you twats!
When Chubby and Connor get back with the drinks Robby's asleep on his towel. We put his drink under his chair out of the sun and drink our lemonades talking quietly so we don't wake up Robby. He's sits up though when Vinnie and Dodger come over talking loudly about how they won the touch football game. Dodger's like, "Balls! It's tied and the next touchdown wins. First play is long-ass pass from me to Vinnie and, TOUCHDOWN!" Dodger's sees Robby's looking kinda beat up, "Not feeling good, brother?" Robby explains about the return of his hangover as I pass him his lemonade that's slightly diluted by melted ice. We talk a little and then Robby says he's going to the room to take a shower and get in bed. I'm like, "I'll come with you, Rob," and
he says, "I'll be okay, but would you return my beach chair for me?" "Sure, Rob," and he trudges up the beach towards our hotel. Dodger asks, "How does a hangover come back?" I shrug, "It doesn't. His hangover never left him even though he tried faking he was okay. Then it just totally caught up with him I guess." We talk about how alcohol affects people differently, mentioning Harry Black who for all intent and purposes is drunk every day, all day. He's a functioning alcoholic, but it'll catch up with him some day too. Liver transplant anyone?
We all go in for a swim, mostly body surfing the especially big waves today. Everyone's getting hungry around seven o'clock so we pack up our stuff, turn in the chairs, and go into the air conditioned lobby of our hotel. The air conditioning in here makes the lobby feels like a meat locker after we were in the sun and heat all day, but you get used to the cool temperatures pretty quickly. Chubby takes his shower as I check on Robby, who's just woken-up from another nap. Sitting on the side of the bed holding the hotel's room service menu, I'm like, "Robby, they have room service here. I can order you a bowl of either minestrone soup or clam chowder. Maybe some rolls and butter to go with the soup if you want, and a big Coke too." He says, "That sounds perfect, Dylan. The clam chowder, rolls and a Coke." I go, "Okay, there's no way you can sleep for twelve more hours, so I'll stay in with you and keep you company." He smiles, "Thanks, baby, but you go out and have a good time. I'll watch some TV until I get tired. I'll be fine. I just need to do nothing and give this fucking hangover the time it needs to go away." I nod and call in his food order, which I'm told will be up in half and hour.
Chubby comes out of the bathroom all shiny clean with a sunburned nose. He looks awesome! Now, if only he'd put some clothes on. "Could you please put something on, Chubby," and he goes, "Bro, I prefer air drying better than towel drying." Fingering his dick, he adds, "Anyway little Jeff needs some air too." Stretching out his four inch dick, he mumbles, "I'm probably motivated to air dry because of our airboat ride, air is greatly under appreciated." Robby's grinning, "You've got yourself a hot body, Jeff." Chubby goes, "You gay boys have only one thing on your minds," I say, "Nice ass too, bro." Chubby turns around and sticks out his cute pink ass, then steps into jockey shorts. Robby and I go, "Booo!" then Robby asks me, "What are you gonna do tonight, Dylan?" I shrug, "I don't know. What are you doing tonight, Chubby?" As he pulls a t-shirt over his head, he says, "Dodger wants to go to the track and bet on some horse racing." On the front of his t-shirt, in big letters, is 'I'M CUTE'. I say, "You're wasting your time going to the
race track 'cause you can't bet. You gotta be twenty-one." He says, "I know that, we're hooking up with this guy Eric, one of the guys we met the first night at dinner. We ran into him on the beach earlier and he's going to get us a couple more cases of beer, plus he gave us the idea of going to the track. He'll place our bets for us. How about it, you wanna come?" I go, "Hell, no! I lose at gambling of any kind, plus the races last like two minutes and then there's something like a half hour in between races. So what do you do in between races?" He says, "You handicap the next race obviously." I ask, "Who's going?" Chubby says, "Dodger and Vinnie, but I don't know about Connor." Ah ha! Maybe another sexy time with my boy, Connor. I mutters, "Maybe I'll hook up with Connor for a walk on the beach or something, then get to bed early." He mutters, "Party pooper."
Robby's soup, rolls, butter, and a big glass of Coke with lots of ice have arrived so I sign for it and give the lady a tip, then set Robby's dinner up at the desk. I watch him eat everything as he's grinning at me watching him. In between slurps of chowder, he says, "Hope this stays down." I go, "Your breakfast and lunch stayed down, so why wouldn't the soup?" Wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin, he goes, "I threw up my lunch when we came back here to get cleaned up." I go, "Why didn't you say something?" He shrugs, "I didn't want to be a downer for you guys. Anyway I thought that'd be the end of it, then I thought I was going to throw up on the fucking airboat too." Yeah, he was awfully quiet all day. I feel his forehead, but it doesn't feel especially hot. Then I kiss him, "I'll stay in with you tonight, Robby." He goes, "Don't do that, please, Dylan. I'll be fine. I'm embarrassed enough for being such a pussy." I say, "You just can't do shots, Rob, that's all. You're allergic to them or something." He says, "I think I am allergic to hard liquor." Chubby asks, "Can someone be allergic to liquor?" I shrug, "I think some people have allergic reactions to alcohol, yeah. Their body has no tolerance for it." Chubby mutters, "We could Google it," and Robby's like, "Not now, please. I don't wanna know. I'm going to lay down again." He lays on top of the bedspread, saying, "Dylan, you go out and have fun, okay?" I nod, "I'll go out but I'm gonna be checking on you every hour." He smiles, "Don't do that. If I need help I'll text you. I don't want to ruin your night just because I'm fucked up."
Chubby's texting someone as I go over to the room's half refrigerator and get one of the three beers we have left, then take it out on the balcony with a new pack of cigarettes. I'm hoping to see the sunset, but checking my iPhone I see that today's sunset's isn't for another forty-five minutes. Smoking and drinking beer leaning on the railing I'm looking down at the beach and then out at the ocean thinking I'd like to have a place on a beach someday, or at least on the ocean. I never get tired of watching the ocean rolling endlessly into shore the same way it's been doing for billions of years. Well, maybe except during that ice age. Chubby comes out saying, "You ought to come with us, Dylan. Dodger's talked Connor into going to the track, and with Robby in bed you'll be flying solo here tonight." I go, "Fuck! Connor's going to the race track too?" He shrugs, "That's what Dodger said and I think whatever Dodger says, Connor's gonna go along with it. And we're eating dinner there too." I'm like, "Well, I am disappointed Connor going with you guys, but I'm glad he has Dodger to sort of keep him in the loop with whatever's going on socially, especially in the Army. Nobody takes advantage of Dodger and he won't let anyone take advantage of Connor either." Then there's a commotion inside with the other room's roommates storming into our room. I say, "Hey, get those guys outta here so Robby can sleep." Chubby says, "You won't come with us?" and I'm like, "I'm just not feeling the race track, Chubby." He rubs my head, "Well, I'll miss you, bro," and we do a hug with me saying, "Win a lot of money, Chub." He rubs my head again, "Okay! Let me rub your head one more time for good luck," and then he goes inside shooing the guys out of the room. As he's going out the door Connor looks at me out here on the balcony and waves, then I see him asking Chubby something. Probably asking why I'm not going with them.
I take a deep breath and swallow a little beer, then finish my cigarette. Sitting on one of the two plastic chairs that are out here on the balcony I try to think what I could do tonight. I could text Willie, but I'm going to see him all day tomorrow when the guys are at Disney World. That'll probably satisfy my submissive fetish for quite awhile. Hmmm, I don't know Terry's text number, if he has one, and who doesn't! Anyway, I can't get in touch with him. Well, one thing's for sure, it's too beautiful a night to stay in watching TV, and Robby's trying to sleep anyway. Finished my beer I go in to check on Robby, who's asleep again. Putting the soup bowl and other stuff from Robby's dinner in the hall, I'm thinking, 'Wow, he's sleeping again! Jesus, I hope there's nothing else wrong with him other than an extended hangover'. I take a long shower and then while drying I'm checking myself out in the big bathroom mirror. I've got some good color from the sun. That's a good look if you ask me. Putting my face close to the mirror I can't see any noticeable whiskers showing up yet, so thank's dad. Running my fingers back through my hair and realizing for the hundredth time it's too short to do anything with it. My hair just sticks straight up, but I'm determined to let my hair grow out this time. At least now it's lost the bristly look of a new haircut, looking sorta like a normal fuzzy burr haircut. How the fuck long will it take me to grow out my hair so I can at least comb it over, never mind a ponytail. I'd just like to be able to comb it, which I haven't been able to do for like two years. And I don't care what Ryan says, I'm not getting a haircut from him or anybody else for two months at least.
Back in the bedroom getting dressed, I hear Robby making quiet snoring sounds, but not really snoring. He's deep asleep though, that's for sure. I write him a big note saying, "TEXT ME THE SECOND YOU NEED ME" and put it on my pillow next to his head. Outside I walk down to the beach and take my sandals off. Maybe there's a beach party going on somewhere tonight. I'm not really expecting to meet anyone I know though. Because of that I dressed accordingly, wearing a plain white t-shirt and baggy cargo shorts. No sense using my cool clothes if I'm not going to see anyone I know. I always wear my cross necklace of course, and my leather bracelet, but tonight after my shower I forgot to put my two rings on and my wristwatch. That's probably because my mind was worrying about Robby. I never saw a hangover last this long. As I walk on the beach I notice there's a lot college kids still on the beach, some of them drunk already. Then I get to see the sunset over the ocean and that's pretty cool. I'm walking on the beach following the promenade
because I'm hungry and I'm going to get something from an open food stand and eat it while walking the beach. I don't like eating alone in a restaurant because it feels like everyone's looking at me wondering why I don't have any friends to eat with. Fuck that! Ya know, at times like this when there are lots and lots of guys around my own age walking by it hits home to me how few people I actually know in this world. I must have passed a hundred guys and girls just in the last half mile of beach and I don't know even one of them.
I'm approaching the end of the promenade so I walk up and find a restaurant with a beach window that advertises 'The Best Subs in Fort Lauderdale'. Getting in the short line I'm reading the big board that shows the menu. I guess I'll try what they claim is an authentic 'Philly Cheese Steak'. Huh, I wonder why it's called that. I mean a cheese steak is thinly sliced beef quickly fried on the grill with cheese, and fried onions if you want, everything stuffed in a sub roll. How could it be more authentic than that? A cheese steak is a cheese steak, Philly or otherwise. I order one and three minutes later I'm served the cheese steak wrapped in butcher paper. Taking it to the condiment area and unwrapping it, I add ketchup and some sweet peppers. Looking around I spot a bench on the beach side of the promenade and sit on it to eat my dinner. This thing is too messy to eat while walking. Sitting here I could be waiting for someone, so it's not like people are staring at me like I'm some lonely geek without a friend. The cheese steak's a little greasy, but good. As I'm eating it I see someone walking down the promenade who's in a class with me at Merrimack. So I do see someone I know after all, although I've never spoken to him. He's by himself, then our eyes meet. He stops and gives me a little wave, then comes over, saying, "Hi, you go to Merrimack, right?" Swallowing a bite of my sub, I'm like, "Yep, Dylan Newman. Wassup?" He says, "Not much. Small world huh?" and he sits down holding his fist out, saying, "Rick Niles." I bump fist with him as he asks,
"How do you like Fort Lauderdale?" and we talk about that a little bit. He's not cute, but he's not hideous looking either. Kind of a rugged scruffy look actually. He looks like someone who maybe just got off a raft from some island after the raft landed here. He has a couple of days growth of a dark beard, longish hair, and a torn t-shirt. On the plus side he has beautiful green eyes. Nice grin too.
We do the thing where we tell each other who we're down here with, neither of us knowing anyone that's mentioned by the other. Then we discuss various professors at Merrimack discovering we only having the one professor in common. Finishing the last of my cheese steak I'm doing a quick look at Rick's hairy legs. He's got an average build and he's about my height. He's also kinda pushy, sitting too close to me and rubbing my head, asking, "What the fuck kind of butchered haircut do you call this?" I go, "Um, it's not butchered," and he goes, "If you say so." Then he feels my bicep, asking, "You're into weight lifting, huh? Nice guns." I glance at him again because he might be kinda sexy after all, and I can almost feel his hairy legs rubbing
against mine as he fucks me. He asks, "Where are your boys tonight? You're not alone tonight are you?" Huh, what the fuck? I go, "Yeah, they all went to that race track." Rick goes, "We were there Monday night, but mostly for the casino. I've got some killer fake ID." I'm like, "Where are your boys
tonight?" and he puts his arm across my shoulder, then giving me a hug, says, "Who the fuck cares?" I shrug, muttering, "So, um…" and I hear a girl's voice calling, "Rick, over here!" He waves his hand at her, saying, "Come here, Sue, and meet, Dylan." This average looking girl comes over, saying to me, "You go to Merrimack, don't ya?" Rick says, "He's in my lit class. Say hi to Dylan," then to me, "What's your last name again?" I mumble, "Newman. Nice to meet you, um," and she says, "Sue Miller, how ya doing? Hey, I've got and idea Dylan, let me dump this big lug here so you and me can party." Rick goes, "Oh fuck you, Sue," and she says, "You wish. Come on, get your fat ass off that bench, we're late." Rick gets up, saying to me, "Nice talking to you, dude. Catch ya later," and they walk off with him whispering something and Sue laughing while glancing back at me. I feel myself blushing and I'm not sure why. What a perfectly ordinary pair those two are. Funny, but I don't hear wedding bells in their future.
I get up and walk in the opposite direction from those two while wondering what Rick was all about. Obviously I was under the impression he was coming on to me, but whatever he said to his girlfriend made her giggle and glance back at me, so maybe he was mocking me. If I wasn't gay, would I have let him touch me like he did? No, I wouldn't have so he obviously thought I was gay and he was bullying me a little. Damn! Or maybe it's something else. Whatever, it wasn't really a positive experience for me and I feel like a dorky jackass being 'played' like that. Going down to the beach again I light a cigarette trying to put that five minutes out of my mind. And then I think,'maybe he saw me kissing Ryan or Robby at Merrimack'. That must be it, but screw him. Making fun of the gay boy, huh? For the next ten minutes I'm
thinking of silly ways to get even with him until I finally realize, so what? Fuck him! What do I care? Willie would laugh it off calling the guy a closet homo who can't even admit the truth to himself. Maybe Rick is, and maybe not. Then again I think of texting Willie, but instead I spot Terry on the promenade with Sherman talking with two other guys. The same guys I saw them with this afternoon.
Okay, if Terry were alone I'd hook up with him, but I don't want to hangout with the four of them. I'm not some nerd leaching on to them. Obviously in hindsight the horse racing was the move for me to make, except that Robby's sick. It's probably just a lingering hangover, but what if it's something more serious and I'm forty-five minutes away at the track and unable to help him if he needs me. Plus we've only got the SUV, so everyone would need to leave. By staying here I'm fifteen minutes away from being there for Robby, and that's at the most. Okay, here's a question for myself: if I don't want to hangout with Terry's friends, why the fuck have I walked back up on the promenade? Damn, it'll be awkward if Terry sees me by myself like this. I drag on my cigarette, turning my back. Then I hear loud laughter and glance behind me for a split second. Terry's and my eyes meet with me blushing again. Fuck! I hate blushing! Trying for casual cool, I give a little wave, you know, like, 'I see you Terry, but I can't stop to chat because I've got something to do'. Behind his back Terry holds up a finger the way you do when indicating, 'don't go anywhere, give me a minute'. Oh fuck, my dick moves in my shorts as I step on my half smoked cigarette and walk away from them thinking, 'Terry might want to tell me something'. Shit, I wish he was by himself. I sit on a empty bench lighting another cigarette I don't want.
There's no way I'm looking back at Terry, and then I do glance over at him and see Sherman and the other two guys walking away in the opposite direct. Terry's coming down the promenade towards me doing sort of a mincing/swishy walk, looking as gay as May. He's got a smirk on his pretty face as he walks right up in front of me so close his knees are touching mine. I sit here looking up at him with half a grin on my face. He has that sexy light red hair and the birth mark that looks like a beauty mark on his cheek. He's sexy looking. Terry's holding his hand in a limp wrist position, as he lisps, "Hey girlfriend, are you stalking me?" I act indignant, "Don't be fucking ridiculous, Terry, and stop that limp wrist bullshit!" He sits down close to me chuckling and doing an exaggerated limp wrist. I frown and he says, "Deep down inside you, sweetheart, you're attracted to my girlie mannerisms, aren't ya Dylan?" I move down on the bench slightly, saying, "Nope, I'm not. I like gay guys who act like guys." He says, "Oh, now you've hurt my feelings," and I mutter, "Sorry, I didn't mean to. I just answered your question." He says, "You sure didn't seem to mind anything about me at the gay club the other night. I've never had a boy act as submissive to me as you were. I really liked that and so did you. But, never mind that now, are you all alone tonight?" He's got me there. I was totally falling all over him that night, but I'd been drinking.
He fools around with my ear, repeating his question, "Dylan, are you alone tonight?" I do an exasperated exhale looking around, then sarcastically says, "I guess I am since I don't see any of my friends around." He puts his hand on the back of my hand, saying, "I'm your friend, and why all the vitriol tonight, sweetheart?" He rubs my arm with the palm of his hand smiling and looking me directly in the eyes. I have the strongest urge to grope my junk, but I avert my eyes and do a fake cough instead. Terry's grinning as he continues staring at me so I do another fake cough, then take a drag of my cigarette. He takes my cigarette from my fingers, takes a drag of it and exhales flamboyantly moving his head with his jaw jutting out. I glance over frowning at him again, wanting to rub my fingers in his clean hair that so neatly in place. Instead he boldly rubs my head, asking, "Where's everyone at?" I mumble, "The race track," and he goes, "Oh my god, that's where Sherman and the other two boys are going. What a weird coincidence that you and I both choose not to go. It's kismet, huh?" I shrug sneaking another glance at him. He's very good looking with a little 'cute' thrown in, and he's
actually a very nice guy too. If only he weren't so swishy he'd be really hot, but I guess I think he's kinda hot anyway, swishy or not.
We don't say anything for most of a minute, that seems like half an hour to me. Then, still sitting too close to me, he moves his head over so his face is right in front of mine, asking, "What's wrong, Dylan? Is there something I can help you with?" At a loss for what to say, I tell him about that little episode with Rick ten minutes ago. He says, "What a prick is Rick. He was having a little bullying fun at your expense. He's an asshole! Hey, you're not ashamed of being gay are you?" I shake my head, "Not hardy," and he asks, "So what do you care what that ass-wipe thinks?" I go, "Would you please sit back, you're making me uncomfortable." He sits back and puts his arm around my waist, sliding me over snugly against his side, asking, "Is this better?" I do another fake cough, then ask, "What's that cologne you're
wearing?" He says, "Oh, not that again. It's Prada amber and It's just right for me because I'm shy and quiet and it fits my personality perfectly, and you told me you didn't like it at the club too." He snuggles in closer against me and I gotta admit his hot body feels good. I mumble, "Well, just so ya know, that amber cologne stinks... and you're neither shy nor quiet." He laughs, then says, "Isn't this nice? It's like we're the only two boys on the promenade. Don't you love the word, 'promenade'?" I'm smelling the back of my hand knowing I should move away from Terry, especially with all these people walking by, but I like him and he likes me. At the gay club he said I'm the kind of guy he could fall in love with. Plus, my dick's kinda stiff and it feels good. I glance at him so he smiles at me, quietly saying, "Relax, we're not doing anything wrong." He still has his arm around the back of my waist giving me a hug now and I can't help but grin a little, then take a deep breath letting the air out slowly while looking away.
Terry says, "You know what, Dylan, I want to buy you something. Come on, get up, we're going shopping. I love to shop." I get up and he puts his arm around my neck now, asking, "What should I buy you, Dylan?" I shrug my shoulders, saying, "Terry, please don't hang on me, and I don't want you buying me anything." He laughs, saying, "Well, I am going to hang on you and I am going to buy you something because you're the cutest boy I've ever fucked. So you miss out on both your requests, and that's two strikes and you're out, as they say in football." I go, "It's three strikes and you're out, plus it's baseball, not football." He goes, "Oh, poo. I don't follow those silly sports." He's still hugging me around the back of my neck, and I resist putting my arm around the back of his skinny waist, although I'd like to. Instead I ask, "What do you find interesting instead of sports?" He says, "Cosmetology is my passion, sweetheart," and I'm like, "Oh, so you're interested in the origin of the universe and evolution and stuff like that. That's cool." He laughs, "You silly boy, that's cosmology. I'm into cosmetology . Beauty treatments like makeup and hair styling. Presently I'm taking a course in the proper way to apply makeup." Looking at him, I ask, "Makeup? They don't teach that at college." He says, "Ooh, you're so brilliant, you pretty boy. Of course they don't teach that at a colleges like Merrimack where you go. Sherman goes to college too, but I'm going to a Cosmetology school to get my Massachusetts Board of Cosmetology license. I'm learning the art of makeup, which is a hot field to get into considering all the cable TV stations that need licensed makeup artist, not to mention Hollywood movies and Broadway shows. They all need makeup people for their talent that appear on screen, stage, or film."
I've got nothing to say to that, but he does. "There's different branches of cosmetology like makeup or cosmetics, as it's called at the school. Also hair styling, skin care, and other things like manicures. I completed the hair styling class last semester. And there are others fields too, but I'm mostly interested in cosmetics, skin care, and hair styling both for men and women." Hoping to put an end to this topic, I say, "Well, good luck to you with that, Terry." He stops, "Oh, this is perfect!" He's looking in the window of a jewelry boutique. I'm like, "You want to buy some jewelry?" He says, "I want to buy something pretty for my new girlfriend so you don't forget me." I go, "I'm not a girl and it's not necessary to buy me anything Terry! Anyway, it'd be hard forgetting you as it is," meaning because he's so unusual. He misinterprets and says, "Aren't you sweet to say that." Then he
drags me inside and takes his arm from my neck so he can pick up pieces of
jewelry. I go, "Um, you're aware this is jewelry for women, right?" He says, "Men can wear some of these pieces, like my pearly earrings." I mutter, "You really don't want to be pointing them out, Terry. Guys don't wear pearl earrings." He not paying attention to me though. He excitedly exclaims, "Oou, how about this nice ring or this adorable bracelet?" I'm like, "I don't like jewelry and I don't want you buying me anything. Please!" He holds up another bracelet that I wouldn't be caught dead wearing, and says, "Try this on." I say, "Nope, I'll be outside. Do not buy me anything! Thank you."
Outside I'm thinking that the smart thing for me to do is just walk away, but Terry's harmless and very nice, and he means well, plus I wouldn't mind another roll in the hay with him, so to speak. He was sexily dominant when he got into it. Leaning up against the building watching all the people walk by I'm thinking the promenade is sort of a mini boardwalk. Terry comes out empty handed, thank god, and says, "It's no fun shopping alone, Dylan. Oh well, come with me," and his arm goes around the back of my waist again. We're attracting some attention walking like this of course, but I take a big exasperated breath and don't complain about it. I don't actually know any of these people, plus we can walk any way we feel like, and screw them. Willie taught me that, and anyway Terry's got a really hot body to rub against. It's kinda surprising no one says anything about us walking like this though. Looking at our reflection in a store window we look like a cute gay couple, and so be it. After a minute of him guiding me down the promenade, I
ask, "Where we going, Terry?" He says, "To my hotel so we can have some privacy." As much as I want to do that, I say, "No, I'm not going to your hotel room. Lets walk on the beach, and must you put your arm around me?" He laughs, "Yes, I must, and yes you are going to my room with me." I hardly notice his lisping now. Without thinking about it, I blurt out, "Okay I'll go
with you, but only if you wash that cologne off." He says, "Okay, I will." So it's settled, like at the gay club last night, Terry's in charge. Not that I put up much of an objection to that. Mmmm, I'm not going to think about it too much, just go along for the ride with Terry obviously doing the driving. Again I'd love to give my junk a squeeze, but I use my internationally known willpower to resist doing that.
When we get to the hotel that Terry and Sherman are staying at, I see it's much newer and ritzier than our hotel. He informs me we're taking the elevator to the eight floor. Ha ha, duh. Did he assume I expected we'd walk up eight flights of steps? He's different alright. Like when we we're walking here from the jewelry shop, and continuing now as we're waiting for the elevator, Terry's giving me a non-stop monologue about cosmetics and makeup. I haven't actually been paying much attention to the words he's saying, but the way he's saying everything seems to infer he believes I'm as interested in makeup as he obviously is. He's so sincere about it and he has a pleasant voice, plus a lot of enthusiasm for his subject matter. It's all, I don't know, somehow kind of hypnotizing to me. Frankly I find myself slipping into a pleasant submissive frame of mind with my dick squirming in my pants. Such a nice feeling, very relaxing and kind of dreamy. It's easy for me to just go along with someone who's sure of themselves and who finds me attractive enough to want to be with me. Someone like Terry in this instance. He's extremely deliberate with everything he does too. Like when we were walking here and he stops, takes two cigarettes out of his pack, closes the box and puts it away, then after dramatically snapping both cigarettes to his lips with a flourish he lights one cigarette, then the other and puts one between my lips. It's like step one, two, three, four and so on and I can't help staring at him. I don't know, his intensity fascinates me. It furthers my submissive mood too. It was a hot time at the club with him and me.
Ha ha, Terry also says unnecessary things like when the elevator comes down and the doors slide open, he tells me, "Here we go, Dylan, just step inside." As if I wouldn't know to do that. It's like he's talking to a small child. The way he does that plus his unique behavior with his girlie mannerisms is giving me the submissive sense he gave me last night. It's weird but sexy. Also there's nothing self-conscious about him. I'm guessing he's totally honest with himself, knowing exactly who and what he is and he's fine with it. In the elevator he's telling me, as he rubs his fingers in my hair, "I'm sorry but I really don't think I can do anything with your hair, honey. It's simply too short. You can assist me with something else that's important though. I'm having a test in my cosmetics class the first day back at school, which is this coming Monday, and I also need to turn in a homework assignment." I nod my head grinning at him. I mean it's all kind of funny although Terry's not trying to be funny at all, and he obviously doesn't think he's saying anything funny. On the eight floor the door open and he says, "Okay, we get out here. Watch your step," and he takes my hand leading me down a corridor, saying, "Our room is 807. We don't have a view of the beach though, which is so fucking unfortunate. The room looks out at the parking lot."
It literally takes him a minute to fish his wallet from his back pants pocket, readjust the position of a few credit cards, and then take out the room card-key and slides it through the slot. A green light blinks and he pushes the door open, then holds it open with his foot as he deliberately replaces the room key, while unnecessarily explaining, "I know I'll leave this key on the dresser and forget to bring it with me next time I go out. So I'll
put it away now." I go, "Uh huh, and the card-key goes in his wallet and now, still holding the door open with his foot, and the two of us standing like dweebs in the corridor, he checks a piece of paper from his wallet. After reading whatever's on it, he explains, "This is a note to myself about something I took care of a year ago." Crumbling the paper in his hand and then dropping it on the floor, he puts his wallet away and holds the door open, "After you, Dylan," and I walk in rolling my eyes. Their room is twice as big as ours, but it does overlook a parking lot. Terry says, "Lift you arms, honey, and I'll pull your t-shirt off for you." I ask, "Why?" and he says, "So I don't get anything on it." I stare at him looking quizzical, and he says, "Come on, do as I say and lift your arms," so I do that and he pulls off my t-shirt, then says, "Wow, I remember that hot body of yours from the pool. Love your nip ring!" He tosses my t-shirt on a chair, telling me, "I'm too much of a pussy to get my nipple pierced, although I keep trying to work up the nerve to do it. I've heard it hurts like a mother-fucker though." Then he says, "Stay right there, I'm going in the bathroom to wash off my cologne like you asked me to do." Well I'll be dammed, that's nice of him.
Two minutes later he comes out of the bathroom drying his face and neck with a hand towel. Dropping the towel on the floor he smiles at me as he pulls the desk chair out, saying, "You sit here and I'll transform you into a beautiful model. That what my homework assignment is. I'm suppose to decide what makeup would highlight a model's face before she gets photographed. A lot depends on her face of course. You've got a beautiful face to work with so I probably should get Sherman to do this for me. His face would be more of a challenge. My challenge with you is taking your gorgeous boy face and make it all girl." I look startled, and he laughs, "Don't worry, I'll clean it all off when I've taken a picture of your made-up face. It'll leave your face fresh and your skin as smooth as a baby's." This is so weird. It reminds me of the time Willie plucked my eyebrows and use eyeliner and whatever before we went to one of those block parties in Cambridge. Oh my god, that was so long ago. Anyway, I take a deep breath feeling weirdly and submissively good sitting in the chair with a buzzing coming off my dick. Terry's a totally harmless gay guy who's been unintentionally entertaining this evening, while at the same time everything he's doing increases my submissive trance. He probably know that of course. It's like I'm experiencing being with some kind of exotic animal that I've never seen before. Terry brings over a small piece of luggage and sets it on the desk, then he does something girlie with his head as he opens the luggage lid and three drawers jut out in tiers. There's many little compartments in each tier and they're all filled with woman's cosmetics. The bottom of the case has various devices I've seen on my mom's bureau. Obviously very few guys would put up with this like I am, but I find it curiously interesting. It's also intriguing that he
knew I would go along with him, and I basically want to see what happens.
Terry fusses with everything getting each bottle, jar, and plastic container sitting up straight and lined-up. Then he puts a square mirror on the desk right in front of me. When he plugs it in lights come on all around the mirror. He turns a dial and the lights get very bright. Standing next to me with his hand on my bare shoulder, Terry's looking at my reflection in the mirror. He says, "I appreciate you helping me with this, Dylan. You're so sweet to do that." I don't recall him asking me, or me agreeing to do this. He just assumed I'd let him do it, somehow knowing I'd be okay with it. That makes me go, huh! His hands rubs up the back of my head and then over the top with his fingers ruffling my hair. He goes, "Well, on second thought I could do something very distinctive with your hair. My idea is to use clippers all around the sides and back of your head cutting the hair very, very short leaving just the hairs on top," and he moves a finger in a circle on top of my head, saying, "Hair inside this area I leave as is, and the rest
would be basically shaved. I've seen that on a model in a fashion magazine, but it was on a woman's head. What do you think, are you daring enough to try that?" I shake my head, "Um, no, Terry. If I see clippers or even scissors, I'm out of here. Don't touch my hair." He goes, "Okay, fine, no problem." Well there is a small problem, and it's that most of that delicious submissive frame of mind I had has vanished now because I had to make such a definitive statement. Dammit!
Terry's got his left arm around the back of my head with his hand holding my chin between his thumb and fingers moving my head so he can look at the reflection of my face from different angles. He quietly says, "I think I know what direction I'm going to take this, but first," and he lifts his leg over my legs and sits on my lap facing me, grinning. "First we'll do this, you delicious boy," and with his arms around the back of my neck he kisses me rubbing a hand up the back of my head again and sliding his tongue around in my mouth giving me chills up my back. It's a very sexy one-minute kiss with his crotch tightly against mine. He sits up and takes his shirt off, pulling it over his head, saying, "I've simply got to feel your bare chest against mine." He rubs the palms of both hands up from my belly button to my
pecs and over my shoulders to wrap his arms around my neck and lean against me with his lips sucking mine, then his tongue is licking around the outline of my lips before going into my mouth again. He's on par with Ryan for hot make outs, although he does it differently than Ryan.
We make out for five minutes or so with Terry as intense and deliberate in his making-out as he is with everything else he does. I'm hugging around his slim hairless chest liking the feel of his bare body against me. Terry's sexy as hell in spite of aspects of him that have been a turn-off for me in the past with other guys. I'm referring of course to some of his girlish mannerisms and the lisping way he talks. He's somehow the exception to the rule though, and I think he's sexy hot. Terry makes-out like he wants to devour me and that's flattering. It's also giving me an aching boner that he feels against his leg. He reaches down to push it over to the side and then rubs the head of my boner with the pad of his thumb as we make-out. I moan each time he moves his thumb around on the heads and then everything seems to click in for me and I begins kissing him back wildly and rubbing my nose with his and licking his face and then our mouths suck together again. His natural scent without the cologne is fresh and clean and pleasant. I like it, and when he follows my lead and licks my face, then up the front of my nose I pull my head back, moaning, "Mmm, Terry, don't. Umm, ooh." He asks, "What's wrong, sweetheart?" I shake my head sucking on my lips, then mumble, "Mmm, you're sexy, Terry. Oh fuck, actually, to be honest, I thought I was going to cum in my pants. I was so close," and I breath deeply, adding, "You're an awesome make-out." He's looking at me like he doesn't believe me, and now I'm a little embarrassed about it and blush, muttering, "I do that once in awhile with really good, um, sexy make-out guys," with my voice getting real low at the end of that sentence, sort of petering out.
Terry adjust himself on my lap, pushing my boner away from his leg again, asking, "Are you serious about cumming in your pants, or are you making fun of me?" I shake my head feeling that submissive sense slide back over me again. I'm not really embarrassed about cumming from making out. I'm not, but you know… not too many people cum in their pants from kissing almost a stranger. He holds my face between his hands, "Look at me, Dylan," I look into his eyes, and he asks, "Can you really have a spontaneous climax from making out with me?" I mumble, "I almost did just that a minute ago." He smiles, "That's amazing. That's a new one on me. I never heard of anyone doing that before. It's, um, cool." He lisped every word of course, but I've gotten
used to hearing it and it doesn't seem all that important to me anymore. Plus, the way he tilts his head is so feminine, but yet I still think he's hot. He rubs under his nose with his forefinger, grinning, then mumbles, "Okay, I gonna do it," and his arms go around my neck again as his face touches mine and our lips meet. Terry's kisses are now making wet slurping sounds as he's sucking my lips, then his tongue's on mine while he rubs his bare chest against me and I squirm against him moaning. I fight the urge, but within a minute my climax is on me again and I just let it build while making desperate whining sounds and humping up against Terry's butt as I moan with sexual arousal, then hump up against his ass again. He licks up the front of my nose with lots of sparkling saliva on his tongue and continues dragging his tongue all the way to my forehead and into my hairline. Another whining moan from me, then a gasp with my face getting hot and red. It's really on me now as my body gets stiff, then one last desperate hump against his ass as cum squirts out of my boner wetting my underwear. I scrunch my face, my eyes closed and with a quiet squeal, "Eeeee," a long stream of cum floods my shorts. My stomach muscle tighten to squeeze out more drools of creamy spunk. Then I lay limply against Terry as he goes, "Shhh, you're fine," and rubs my back lightly, asking, "Did it feels good, girlfriend? Sweat runs down from my forehead as after effects of my orgasm tantalize me making my shoulders shudder. I hug Terry laying the side of my face on his chest.
He coos soothing sounds rubbing my back, then he blurts out a laugh, and goes, "Sorry, I'm sorry. I just never knew it was possible for me to make someone cum in their pants from just kissing. I didn't mean to laugh, but come on, that's, um, unusual wouldn't you say? But you're absolutely awesome anyway, Dylan. That was very sexy!" He gives me another hug, then jumps up laughing again, yelling, "Spunk is soaking through your pants. Look, there's a wet cum spot on my shorts from your wet spot." He's so pleased with himself I don't have the heart to tell him there's a number of guys who have made be shoot off in my pants. Hell, I even made Seth shoot off in his pants in the back of the truck traveling between jobs when we worked together on the landscaping crew. It's not as unusual as Terry thinks. He says, "Come on, lets get you cleaned up and then I'll makeup of your face." I'm not so sure about that, but lets see what he has in mind. In the bathroom he pulls my cargo shorts down, then stretches out the waistband of my jockey underwear and peers inside, "Holy shit! That's a lot of jism, girlfriend. Fuck! It'd feel good to have all that creamy cum up my ass." Startled, I look at him, and he goes, "No, sweetheart, that's not going to happen. Neither your cum nor anyone else's cum is going up my ass. For one thing there's gotta be a condom on any hard penis fucking me, and more importantly I'm your 'top'. Sherman insists on 'topping' me. Truth is I like macho guys although I actually prefer being the top. Between you and me there's not even a discussion about who's fucking who. Honey, you're a world class submissive bottom boy if I've ever met one. Right?" Oh good, that gets me back on track towards a submissive frame of mind again. I say, "Uh huh, Ter," and he laughs, "You're calling me 'Ter' again. That's cute." Then he pulls my underpants down, saying, "Step out of these and I'll wash your cummy belly for ya. Good thing you shave down here or it'd be even messier." He throws my shorts and underpants in a corner, mumbling, "I'll get something of mine you can wear tonight." Wetting a washcloth he does a damn nice job of washing all around my groin area, then my cock and balls. He frowns as he's rubbing his finger
around my dick, then says, "You're scratchy down here, Dylan. I'll take care of that for you too. Your shaved pubic hair reminds me that lately I've thought about shaving my red ones, but that fucking Sherman say 'no' to that. I'm thinking about dumping him anyway, although it'll be awkward because
he's my roommate." I start to say something, but he puts his finger to my lips, "Shh, honey, Terry's in charge here."
He gets a can of shaving cream out of a toiletry kit, mumbling, "Sherman won't mind," and lathers around my groin in an area wider than where my pubic hairs grow, then he hands me a towel, "Put this towel on the bed, and lay on it. I'll bring this wet washcloth and a hand towel." I'm savoring my latest dreamy submissiveness, the kind that makes my eyelids droop, so I do what he says. Putting the towel down on the bed, then laying on it and Tracy comes over looking down at me, "Spread your legs, dear," and I do that with Terry mumbling, "Wider please," so I spread my legs more. He rubs down my left leg, then up it, saying, "I'll shave your legs too." Taking my slightly firm cock in his fingers he stretches it out, murmuring, "Nice penis," then, still holding my cock in one hand, he's rubbing my calf again with his other hand, going, "Hmmm, there are only these tiny blond hairs on your legs, but I'll shave then for you anyway and make your legs look shiny." I stifle a moan of arousal and try relaxing, enjoying how I'm feeling. Terry does a meticulous job of shaving around my cock, that he holds in his left hand the whole time. Then he lifts my bag of nuts and shaves a few spots he missed. Nodding his head, he uses the washcloth to wipe off shaving cream remnant around my cock and balls as I lay here breathing in little puffs, feeling so wonderful I might fall asleep.
When my crotch area is done he wets my legs with the washcloth while talking to me constantly. His voice seem to be coming from far away and the words aren't making a lot of sense to me. Just white background noise in his pleasant voice. Done wetting my legs, Terry goes in the bathroom and comes back with the can of shaving cream. He meticulously spreads shaving cream up and down my right leg, then shaves it carefully wiping residue from the razor in the hand towel. He spends probably five minutes on that leg. It's a fascinating experience to say the least and I realize I've got a grin on my lips enjoying myself as I stare at him. Chubby and I used to do this to each
other as young teens. I continue staring at Terry the whole time he's spreading shaving cream on my other leg and he finally chuckles, asking, "What? What's funny?" referring I suppose to the grin on my face. I shake my head grinning harder and now it's like he feels he needs to justify himself, "I like grooming a guy, Dylan, and making him look pretty. It'll be my vocation after I graduate." I shrug and grin some more, he laughs again, "Stop grinning, Dylan, and let me work. Jeez!" After shaving my other left and wiping both legs down with the wet washcloth again, he dries both legs, mumbling, "That was fun," and rubs up my legs with both hands, then around my cock and balls. Taking my hand, he puts it on my thigh, "Feel around, girlfriend, it's really smooth." Then he goes, "Ya know what," and he slips off my sandals, adding, "I'm going to stand you under the shower and make sure I've got all the shaving cream off you, and all your own creamy cum too." He pulls me up with both hands, saying, "Come on," and I follow him into the bathroom with this shit-eating grin on my face. This is so much fucking fun for me, being taken care of and pampered. It's a treat.
Terry says, "Step into the shower stall now, sweetheart, but watch you don't slip." He's already got the water flowing and I didn't even see him do that. I get in and he tells me, "Close your eyes and mouth, I'm going to wash your face so I have a fresh canvas to work my makeup magic on. It'll only be a temporary make-over of course." He washes my face, then says, "Hold your face up so the soap will rinse off," I blurt out a soft laugh because, duh, I know how to take a shower. He washes my cock and balls again, then turns me around and works the washcloth making sure my asshole is clean, muttering, "A nice clean asshole for when I fuck you." It was already clean when I left the hotel earlier tonight. While drying me with a large fluffy towel he's saying, "You know what my fantasy is? Having a young men's chorus line of cute guy like you. They'll be in some big successful Broadway show and I need to shampoo, bath, shave, and groom them all every day. Then make up their faces before they go out on stage. Maybe a dozen good looking young guys. Fucking fantasies are hot, huh?" Well hell, I'd like to be a billionaire and have Terry be my personal servant to do all that shit to me everyday... minus the cosmetics. Terry dries me and applies unscented baby oil to all the places he shaved. Yep, my legs are shiny alright. Oh fuck I'll need to take another shower to wash all this oil off.
We go back in the bedroom where Terry's looking in a bureau drawer, finally pulling out a lady's bra. Holding it up, he asks, "What do you think?" I go, "Nope," and he puts the bra back and comes up with a pair of pink silky girl's bikini underpants, saying, "I insist you to wear these," and then he laughs, "Yeah, I know it's weird, but please put these panties on." Naturally I think of Willie. He's done some of this stuff to me before, definitely the girlie underwear. I step into the silk underwear and look down at my cock and balls stretching out the front. If I had pubic hairs they'd be sticking out all around this little bikini thingie. Still, the silk feels especially good on my newly shaved groin. Terry's grinning now, saying, "I thought you'd give me all kinds of shit about wearing girlie underwear. I wear it half the time myself." That doesn't surprise me one bit. I'm sitting in front of the makeup mirror again with Terry hovering around rearranging stuff in his makeup case. Then he leans close to my face, murmuring, "Your eyebrows are almost perfect in their natural state. That's very rare, but a little eyebrow grooming can improve on the natural look. Just a little light tweezing, Dylan, nothing to be worried about," and he plucks maybe a dozen random eyebrow hairs. I'm looking right in the mirror but can't see a difference after he's plucked them. He goes, "Yeah, perfect! Now for the right shade of eyebrow pencil. Hmmm, a medium light brown is just right for your coloring." He gets the pencil and starting from inside my eyebrow he drags the side of the pencil point along the natural line of growth. He works slowly with light strokes of the sharp looking pencil point, and then, "Just a little brushing to blend everything in," and he uses a little brush on my eyebrows. Oh fuck, that's way creepy! When he's done my eyebrows look totally artificial, but he's pleased. "Perfect, darling, just perfect."
He takes a thin brush like you'd use to paint a water color picture with, and says, "This is Lasting Drama Gel eyeliner. I'll start at the inner corner of your beautiful blue eye, just above your nice eyelashes. Wait a minute," and he gets a gadget that closes on my eyelashes, telling me, "Just to give them a little more curve. We'll fill them out in a minute." He squeezes both my right and left eyelashes with the curved thing, then outlines above and below my eyelashes dragging the line of dark coloring that he calls Master Kajal pitch black eyeliner. It's dragged just a little to the side of
my eyes, with Terry saying, "This gives your eyes a stunning geometric look." Terry continues explaining everything he's doing in that hypnotizing voice enhancing my really pleasant trance. I get to feeling like I could float out of this chair. Now he's adding something to my curvy eyelashes that makes them thinker and longer and uglier! I don't know how long he works on my eyes but it seems like quite awhile before he's satisfied. His concentration is impressive and he never stops explaining what he's doing using words I'm not familiar with until his voice is just more white background noise. Calming, unintelligible noise. The application of lipstick takes quite awhile too, and then he's applying what he calls 'blush' to my cheeks, but finally he's done. By now I can hardly keep my head up. I'm so relaxed it feels like I have only one bone in my body and it's poking out the silky pink undies I'm wearing. I'm not sure how long I've had this aching boner but there a wet spot where the head is stretching the silk.
Terry drags the chair I'm in around to the side so he can look directly at my face and I hear him say, seemingly from far off, "I'd love to kiss you on the lips except I don't want to smear your lipstick," his voice sounds to me almost like an echo. He gives me a long kiss on my forehead and then takes hold of my shoulders lifting me, saying, "Before I make a mess in my pants, come over and lean on the bed so I can fuck you while your beautiful face is made-up so perfectly." When I lean over with my hands on the bed, still on my feet, he pulls down the little underpants in back and smacks my ass like he did in the club only harder this time, "SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!" making me yelp. With my smacked ass stinging he pushes his finger up my ass rubbing my prostate. I grunt, hump my hips and a spurt of precum plops out and drops to the carpet. His finger comes out with him still murmuring something, something complimentary about my ass. I'm in a dreamy fog though so I don't catch what he said. I hear him tear open a condom packet and then the lubricated head of the condom, stuffed full of Terry's boner, pokes my asshole. He grabs my shoulders and pushes the head tightly in past my sphincter muscle, "Umpt," from Terry and, "Aaah," from me. Wow, this feels really, really good.
This time Terry baby doesn't baby this along either, as he presses his cock steadily up my ass with my back doing it's arching thing and me going, "Aaaaaaah," during the whole trip his boner takes up my ass. Terry makes a hissing sound while he's pushing his hard cock up inside me, and then, "Mmmm, ooh, yeah." He pushes his crotch against my buttocks tightly and does a few dominant type humps against by butt cheeks, bumping my body forward and making sure I know I'm now totally under his control. Like last night he does
another couple of humps against my ass without withdrawing his boner at all, just to be sure I know who's in charge of this sex. Realizing I'm holding my breath I let it out in a long exhale making a 'whoosssing' sound. He leans in to me, quietly asking, "You okay, darling?" I grunt, "Awesome," and he gooses both of my stinging butt cheeks, mumbling, "I knew you'd need a good hard fucking about now, my dear." When he pulls his boner back, some of the warmed lubricant from the condom drools down under me to the back of my scrotum, and then slowly drools down underneath it, feeling sticky.
With his hands still cupping my shoulders Terry begin a hard fast Tracy-like fuck slamming into me while making an, "Ooh," grunt each time his body slams into my ass. Unlike in the men's room stall last night, tonight his cock is through the fly opening of his shorts so the 'slap' sounds of males fucking is muffled. My bag of nuts is constantly swinging as our bodes sway with Terry slamming into me pile-driving his cock up my ass and this goes on steadily for a couple of minutes with my fingers gripping the mattress and
me moaning constantly. Terry's fucking my ass awesomely, our bodies in constant motion. Oh the sensations coming off my prostate and the sizzling around my anus! Awesome sexual sensations as I squirm and hump back at his thrusts. We get noisier with out grunting and moaning and my climax is coming on me like a runaway freight train. Three minutes is all it takes before I do three fast high pitched squeals humping my hips with my orgasm unexpectedly firing off three premature stings of cum. They fly from my cock one after another and smear against the side of the bedspread. Strobes of bright lights seem to assault my senses as I moan squeezing out more squirts of cum. My body's stiff for a few more seconds and then I get limp as buzzing orgasm sensations tease me with their pleasurable vibrations before fizzling out. Terry lays his chest on my back now, his arms gripping tightly around my chest as he continues to move his hips fast and hard grunting with each thrust. It's only another minute of this intense fucking before Terry groans, "Ooh, aaagh," his body stiff as his boner with him flat against my ass humping against my buttocks filling his condom with youthful creamy spunk. Another hard hump against me as he shakily lays on my back, moaning, "Oooh, fuccck," doing a few spastic long thrusts pulling his cock way out and driving it in smoothly. Then he just lays there on my back a few seconds before straightening up and pulling his cock out, then giving my ass another hard, "SMACK!" muttering, "All done. That's one hot pussy you got there, girlfriend." He pulls the silk panties back up on my ass and gives me another, "SMACK!" saying again, "All done for now, doll. I'll do a slower fuck for you later," and, "SMACK!" "Ow! Goddammit, Terry!"
I stand up with both my hands reaching back to my stinging ass. Wow, he spanks hard. My hands come away sticky with the lube that oozed from my ass and soaked through the thin panty material. Terry pats my shoulder, asking, "You good?" and I nod, "Yeah, you really got me off good again, Ter." I'm checking to see if I'm still feeling submissive, but if I am it's mild. Terry says, "Come on over and sit down again so I can take a couple of pictures of your made-up face for Monday's homework and to add to my portfolio." I sit and he takes a half dozen pictures, then says, "Well, okay then! That's just about perfect. I'll clean off the makeup now and then take some 'before' pics. There's one thing I know for fucking sure, Dylan, and that's that nobody in my class will have a model as beautiful as you, and they'll probably all be females too."
He uses a facial cleaner for my eye makeup and a different one for lipstick and the 'blush' stuff he put on my cheeks. Then he goes, "Next time I'll do the whole deal for you, starting with foundation and build up from there." He drops one of the facial cleaners on the desk in front of me and I see it's something called Amla Purifying sealer. I like the sound of 'purifying'. When he's done there's not a trace of makeup left and my skin feels good like he said it would. He takes a few pictures then puts everything away. Taking off my panties I look in his bureau drawer finding clean boxer shorts to put on. Then a pair of generic shorts. Terry says, "Dylan, I swear to god, I can't think when I've had a better time. You're the best sport ever going along with this. I've been trying to talk Sherman into it, but he wouldn't do it, so thank you, thank you, thank you," and he kisses me, saying,
"Lets be boyfriends!" I step into my sandals and we leave the room. Walking towards the elevator hand in hand, Terry tells me, "I'm going to fuck you
again a little later. I'll do it outside somewhere and I want you on your hands and knees this time. I really get off doing a submissive like you doggy style."
He seems to have done more fucking than he indicated initially when he said he mostly goes for macho boys. Maybe he means he likes fucking macho boy s, and Sherman's the exception who Terry lets fuck him. In the corridor as he's making sure the door's locked, he asks, "How do you feel about sucking my cock a little later? Any problem with that? I mean considering I've got cum on from when I had the orgasm in the condom. Oh, and maybe a little rimming too. A submissive bottom boy like you should know how to rim a guy's asshole, right?" Damn, fucking Terry is full of surprises. Who would have ever guessed him for a true dominant top? Not me, that's for sure. I'm smelling the back of my wrist as we get on the elevator. He grips the back of my neck, again with more strength than I expected, pulling my head over to kiss my lips quickly, then he asks, "I asked you a question, honey. Are you gonna suck my cock and rim my ass or not?" I gasp looking at him, feeling kinda funny. How do these guys know just the right buttons to push? And they all increase their dominance once they see I'll go along with them. Even girlie, swishy, lisping doms. Not that I'm complaining at all. I love it, so I lean against him, "Sure Terry, whatever you say." Giving me a hug, he says,
"This has been such an awesome night for me. Are you having fun, girlfriend?" I shrug, "Sure, Terry, it's been, um, different. Any chance you could stop calling me girlfriend though?" He laughs, "Probably not, I'll call you whatever I want, but you're awesome, Dylan, just so you know." I shrug, grinning at him shaking my head slowly because he's so different from any guy I've ever had sex with. I really like this change of pace though. Ha ha, being dominated by a lisping swisher. On the elevator I grin at him again, feeling submissive and weirdly shy, quietly murmuring, "You don't need to use a condom later when you fuck me if you don't want to, Terry." Another hug from him as he says, "Well see, sweetheart?"
to be continued… Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donny mumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are three books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are under ten dollars. Three book about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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