DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME
Chapter 6
By Donny Mumford
Waking up Sunday morning I hear Robby in the bathroom taking a leak.
Getting out of bed and joining him, we grin at each other leaning our heads over for a good-morning kiss. Done our business at the toilet we wash our face and hands, then I put toothpaste on my electric toothbrush and share it with Robby. After rinsing with minty mouthwash, the first spoken words this morning come from Robby, "What time is it?" Checking my wristwatch, I say, "Quarter to nine," and he smiles, mumbling, "Lets get back in bed." I've no objection to that so we hop back in bed and get under the covers snuggling together. It's nice. I sigh happily and Robby puts his lips to my ear, whispering, "Can we mess around? You know, with your mom home." I murmur, "Sure, she can't hear us." We do some slow kissing while rubbing our hands over each other's body. Robby's body is so smooth, but with hard areas of muscle definition. Our lips suck together, then our tongues slide together warm and wet. We lick one another's face like puppy dogs, grinning while lapping away. It makes my penis hard, and Robby's too. I begin stroking his boner as we kiss. He grunts pushing my hand away, saying, "Turn over on your stomach, Dylan." I flop over and he gets between my legs lifting my butt up with a hand under each hip. Helping, I stick my ass up off the mattress, then reach under to stroke my own boner a few times. Damn that feels good, but Robby pulls my arm away. He's apparently in the mood to be a bit rough this morning, which I like a lot. When my ass is up the way he wants it, he mumbles, "That's good. Hold it there," and, "SMACK!" really hard with his open hand on my left butt cheek. I do a quiet yelp as my dick tightens further.
Robby's doing everything slowly and deliberately, so I tell myself he's being dominant. You know, even if he isn't doing it intentionally. With his hand on each of my butt cheeks he spreads them apart stretching my anus sideways making the opening narrower. Keeping my buttocks stretched sideways Robby pushes a finger inside me and absently rubs my prostate until I'm squirming and moaning with my face in the pillow. My walnut shaped prostate gland is a hotbed of nerve endings located about three quarters of Robby's forefinger up my ass between my anus and bladder. It's not hard to find.
Robby's rubbing the pad of his finger over it: rubbing, rubbing, rubbing with my buttocks muscles clenching as I'm squirming and doing little exhales of air trying not to shoot my load. Looking back at Robby I see a mischievous expression on his face. The soft pad of his finger rubs, rubs, rubs making me moan as a drool of precum slides from my hard cock to drip onto the bed sheet. I'm just about to climax, gasping, "No, um, Rob, I'm gonna cum." He goes, "That was quick," and he does two more rubs across my prostate before pulling his finger out, saying, "Keep your ass up, Dylan," then murmurs, "That was fun seeing you all hot and bothered."
I'm breathing a little raggedly; taking deeper breaths waiting for my prostate gland to simmers down so I can relax a little. Robby goes back to painfully stretching my asshole sideways, then the head of his fat hard cock pokes my anus and squeezes in tightly and painfully past the stretched lips.
Holding my breath against the pain, my face red and hot, I groan and squirm on the bed. Once the head pops past my sphincter Robby stops stretching my butt cheeks sideways and the anus lips hug snugly around the neck of his boner. Much better now as the pain reduces almost at once. Five seconds later a glow of pleasure around my anus sneaks up on me and makes my shoulders shudder as I moan, "Ooh, mmmm, ummm." Robby pulls his boner out of my ass completely and pokes it right back in. That feels good, like scratching a wicked itch. He pulls it out and pokes it back in a third time with sensations from the thousands of nerve endings in my anus sizzling with pleasure making me moan into my pillow as my shoulders shudder again. I wonder why Robby's doing this and as if reading my mind, he mutters, "I'm experimenting, babe. Just messing around learning about your ass, and toying with you a little bit too. It's fun seeing how hot I can make my sexy boyfriend." With the neck of his hard cock past my sphincter muscle Robby stretches my anus sideways again using his thumbs, then he humps his hips sending his boner two inches up my ass and it feels so good I can hardly believe it. He takes his thumbs away and gives my ass a few more smacks, "Smack, smack, smack!"
My butt cheeks are stinging but other than that everything feels real good back there, especially compared to my aching stretched anus a minute ago.
I turn my head looking back at Robby again. He's concentrating on my ass, goosing my butt cheeks, then giving one cheek another "Smack!" Pulling his boner back until the bulbous head is caught at the rim of my asshole, he glances at me with a little grin, saying, "A touch of recreational sex, babe," and he forces a finger in alongside the head of his cock. My back arches as I stifle a groan and he leans forward pushing his boner and finger inside three inches before sliding his finger tightly out and I sigh again because now my rectum feels really good. Nicely full, but not too full, and oh so good, "Mmmm, oooh, ooh." Robby humps the last inch of boner inside me as I squirm on the bed moving my knees a little while tightening the muscles in my ass. Robby does a couple of full thrusts back and forth getting another moan of pleasure from me, "Oooh, mmm." His awesome boner moving back and forth inside me feels so good and sexy, I murmur, "Feels good, fuck me really hard this morning, Rob." I liked that dominant move of Robby's when he forced his finger up my ass next to his fat cock, but I can't help wondering where he learned that little maneuver.
Now that fat boner's fully up my ass I feel it growing even fatter.
Robby's leaning over me, partially supporting himself with one hand on the crown of my head pushing my face further into my pillow, and in this rather dominant position he starts fucking my ass creating, "Slap, slap, slap, slap,"
sounds with every fast thrust when his crotch smacks against my smacked ass. Sexual sensations from my rectum's nerve endings react in their predictable manner coming alive to sparkle with sexual pleasure. Little moans of pleasure from Robby now as he pounds his boner up inside me with a, "Umpth,"
at each thrust. His hand at the back of my head keeps me from moving and I can't hump back into his thrust as hard as I'd like, but it feels especially sexy-good because there's definitely a touch of dominance in Robby's fucking this morning, and that's true whether he realizes it or not. "Slap, slap, slap, slap," "Ooooh, yeaaaah." He's fucking me at a nice steady speed with a little extra zip at the end when he smacks against my buttocks.
His hand continues pushing the back of my head, keeping my face buried in the pillow and making it difficult for me to breathe deeply, but I manage to move my face to the side. I look back at Robby who's on his knees, spread wide as he casually moves his hips driving his boner tightly back and forth in my ass. His eyes are closed with a pleasant expression on his face.
Watching the steady movement of his hips driving his piston-like boner rhythmically back and forth at an even steady speed, seemingly on their own, becomes hypnotizing. It's sort of oxymoronic to say this is a casual/dominant fuck, but that's how I perceive it. I'm loving that Robby's doing it and pleasantly surprised at the dominant part. Feels so good. His fat cock is moving quickly tightly sliding sexily over my prostate with my anus' lips hugging the shaft as it moves to and fro. I sense Robby's mood, and unlike our lover's sex, I think this one is mostly about Robby being horny and pleasuring himself by using my rectum. He's thinking more about his pleasure than mine this morning; more of a 'buddy' fuck, and that's perfectly fine at times. It's not always going to be lover's sex. He could be thinking about all the awesome sex we had yesterday and that got him horny this morning. I'm calling this sub/dom sex because basically it is.
When Robby gets a bit rougher it really cranks me up and turns me on. Now he pulls my hips further up off the bed, muttering, "Stay like that." It takes some effort to keep my ass off the mattress this much because I'm not on my hands and knees but that's not Robby's concern. He's thrusting that fat boner of his up my ass with renewed vigor as, I assume, his orgasm is building and he begins pounding his cock up my ass faster and faster making a whiny sound of sexual desire from the need to climax. In and back faster and harder. He does a little grunt with each thrust and I get chills zipping all over my body. Unexpectedly Robby pulls his cock out completely, and it's me whining now as he rolls me over on my back pushing my legs up, then jams his cock back up my ass to pound it in and back with a 'Slap!' sound going in and a, "Oooh!" pulling back. Using a hand behind each of my thighs he's pushing my legs so far forward my feet are in the air and my knees are almost hitting me in the face. Robby's gasping, sweat on his face as he's awesomely fucking my ass. I'm feeling helpless in this position, almost in a ball and my old nemesis claustrophobia slides over my brain. Every nerve ending in my rectum is sizzling with sexual pleasure while a submissive state of mind joins the claustrophobia increasing my sexual arousal and pleasure.
I know I won't last long now as I do another submissive whine while marveling at the incredible sensations that are pulsating causing tightening around my groin. In this awkward position Robby's balls smack into mine with every hump of his hips and the sharp thrill of pain is enhancing the pleasure with my climax rolling over me and I squeal humping my hips awkwardly as a hard stream of cum zips out of my boner splashing into my neck and chin.
Brilliant flashes of color burst in my head as another hip hump sends a second streak of my own semen splashing on my face. It hit my nose and upper lip drooling down all around my mouth. A few more spurts plop out onto my stomach as I moan and concentrate on the fleeting pings of my orgasm sensations are still blipping around my groin. They all fade away quickly and I sigh as Robby gasps. He's tight against my buttocks leaning forward so far my knees are on either side of my face with Robby humping wildly, then with a gasp he floods my bowels with his latest load of semen. Then again, and again followed by a dozen out of control thrusting in my now cum saturated rectum with cum drooling out around his cock splattering my butt cheeks with cum droplets.
No movement for a second, then a quiet, "Whoa," from Robby. He pulls his cock out, my legs flop down on the bed, and Robby crawls over my right leg and plops down beside me on his stomach breathing hard. He's sweating; his eyes still closed as he takes deep breaths though lips that form a little grin of contentment. The side of my head's on the pillow as I'm watching him, but saying nothing. One last exhale and he opens his eyes, then turn his head to look at me, and says, "Good morning, boyfriend," with a big smile on his face. I can't help but smile back at him, then ask, "Who have you been taking fucking-lesson from?" He goes up on his side supporting himself on his elbow, obviously very pleased with himself, asking, "Whaddaya mean fucking lessons?" I go, "This so-called recreational fuck of yours, um, I don't recall us doing it like this before." He leans down and kisses my lips, then says, "Didn't you like it? I got carried away, but that's your fault.
You deprived me of your awesome ass all summer and now that you're here I'm like a sex maniac." I nod my head, "Okay, mister sex maniac, to answer your question, I liked it very much. It was very hot sex and I liked it a lot even though when you rolled me in a ball I got claustrophobia?" I won't mention sub/dom sex because Rob's never warmed-up to that concept. If he does it at times without realizing he's doing it, so much the better.
Then he acts concerned, asking, "Really, Dylan? You thought it was hot and I wasn't too rough?" I go, "No, seriously, it was hot! I love our lover's sex the best, but we have a way-back history of rough recreational fucking too. Remember when we were naming our different fucks during freshman year at Merrimack?" He frowns, "Um, no I don't remember that. It was probably you naming our sex." Shrugging, I grin at him, "What are we going to do now, Rob?" He smirks and we wrestle on the bed kissing and rubbing each other's body, spreading our spunk on us and the sheets. I almost fall off the side but Robby catches me the last second and then we cuddle for a bit without talking. I'm slowly rubbing cum in Robby's hair without him knowing it. Just at the side of his head. When the cum wets through to his scalp, he goes, "Hey! Are you rubbing cum on my head?" I go, "No, don't be ridiculous." He feels his wet cum-spot head, grinning and saying, "Lets take a shower."
We take a shower together talking about last night's sex, and then this morning's. We talk about it without having any sex during the shower. Robby claims this is probably the most sex he and I have ever had in a fifteen hour period, again insisting the reason for his horniness is him missing doing it for most of the summer. I'm not sure if he means missing sex with me, or missing sex altogether. I'm not inclined to ask him to clarify what exactly he means because that might lead to a discussion of how much I've been missing it. I've certainly been missing having sex with him, but if he means missing sex in a general sense I'd rather not go into details about that.
The past two weeks have been a bit barren for me, but previous to that Ryan and I were fucking like minks with some of Timmy's two-inch-dick fucking and sucking thrown in for good measure. I'm pretty sure Robby would like me to be a little more forthcoming about Ryan's and my sex the past two months, but I'm sticking to our old steadfast rule that we do not discuss side sex. What good could come from doing that? As we're drying after our shower I get us off the subject of sex, saying, "Chubby's going to be bopping in any minute now to go food shopping for this morning's brunch. You can stay for brunch, right?" He goes, "Yeah, I told dad I'd be missing meeting this weekend so I could spend the time with you. I thought you and I were going to have an argument about you returning to Georgia, and we'd need the whole weekend to sort that out. Then I find out you were one step ahead of me and already decided not to return." I ask, "How much time will you and I have together during the week? You know, considering the extra time you've been spending at work?" He goes, "I'll make the time, Dylan, but there are some responsibilities to Dad and the job that I can't ignore. He's depending on me." I'll probably be hearing a version of that from Robby even after we're married. Robby's always been conscientious and I don't see that changing, so I better get used to it. Anyway, I think it's a good thing he's conscientious. Heads of their households should be conscientious.
We're drinking mugs of coffee and smoking cigarettes on the balcony when Chubby comes through the front door smiling and giving us a little wave. He makes a coffee for himself then joins us on the balcony giving me a hug and a quick-as-a-wink kiss before bumping fist with Robby, telling us, "You boys look sparkling clean and clear-eyed this morning." I go, "So do you, Chub," and he goes, "Yes, and that's because I was sensible last night and didn't do shots like less responsible guys were doing. Unfortunately without doing the shots it made for a pretty dull affair." Rob asks, "Where was the party?" Chubby says, "It wasn't actually a party. My girlfriend, Lynchie, has four brothers and two of them had their girlfriends over the house and we hung out talking and drinking while trying to decide what we felt like doing." Robby asks, "What kind of a name is 'Lynchie'?" Chubby shrugs, "Her name's Kathy Lynch, but my nickname for her is 'Lynchie'. Ya know, what else would it be?" I go, "And you guys never decided what to do, so you just continued doing nothing." Chubby chuckles, "Well, heh heh, I would't say 'nothing'. Lynchie and I decided to take a little ride, and you know..." Robby says, "And you ended up at the reservoir for a little nookie." Chubby looks startled, asking, "You know about the reservoir?" I look at Robby and he smirks at me, then says to Chubby, "I've heard rumors about it. It's a lover's lane or something, right?" Chubby goes, "Well, I don't think you need to be lovers. Acquaintances will work just as well." I mutter, "You're over-sexed, Chub. There's more things to life than just sex." He asks, "Better things?" and I go, "Sure, there's, um, things."
Finished our coffees we drive to Stop & Shop discussing this morning brunch and deciding on a basic brunch, but with a twist. The twist is creamed beef on toast in honor of our awesome Army boys who would probably refer to that dish as shit on a shingle, or SOS. The Army mess hall probably would just have the SOS, but we're also having fresh cut-up fruit, a cheese quiche, and home fries with onion and green peppers. As soon as we get inside Stop & Shop I'm reminded that Sunday grocery shopping blows! Every Sunday Chubby and I are at Stop & Shop we tell each other we'll do future food shopping for brunch on Saturdays, but we never remember to do it. On Sundays the mothers send their husbands and all the kids shopping so she has a couple hours of peace. The husbands haven't a clue what they're doing and the kids run around getting on everyone's nerves. I'm trying to ignore them as I look for cute bag boys or register clerks... old habits die hard.
I spot a couple of boys who might make it into my brain's cute-o-meter except they're too young. Probably sixteen or seventeen. The boys who are a little older are unfortunately goofy looking. The sad part is the too-young cute boys will probably be goofy looking by the time they're legal age. It very rare for boys to get cuter as they age where the opposite is often true for girls. Doesn't seem fair, does it? Nature is screwing with us again, ya know? Chubby says, "Earth to Dylan," and I go, "Wha...?" He says, "You went to your little dream world again. How about if you and Rob get what we need for the creamed beef and the quiche. I'll get the fruit and home fries ingredients. Um, should we do fresh squeezed orange juice too?" I shrug, "Fucking oranges are a $1.50 each," and he says, "They're half that if I buy a bag of them. Fresh squeezed orange juice is like a hundred times better than bottled." I roll my eyes, like: Oh, I didn't know that, bro. He rubs my head grinning and off he goes with a shopping basket. I say to Robby, "I think the packages of dried beef make the best creamed beef, don't you?" He asks, "What's creamed beef?" Okay, he's not going to be much help.
I find an eight ounce bottle of dried beef and put it in the basket Robby's carrying. Then a quart of half and half cream to make the white sauce, and for use in the quiche too. An eight pack of eggs and a six ounce bag of shredded cheddar cheese, plus pie dough in a disposable aluminum foil pan.
Jesus, I hope the 'green' people don't notice we're using a disposable pie pan. All of the items I choose go into Robby's basket. Making pie dough from scratch blows, so we always get the pre-made dough. Now I'm tapping my front teeth with a finger thinking that a plain cheese quiche is boring. I ask Robby, "What could we add to the quiche to perk it up?" He shrugs, "Um, vegetables?" I go, "Vegetables? That's an awesome idea, boyfriend, but maybe bacon would be better," and throw a package of Oscar Mayer bacon in the basket. That was easy. We're done so we head to the produce section to find Chubby. Robby goes, "There he is." I look over and see Chubby grinning while talking with two girls. He has one red pepper in his basket and nothing else. One of the girls is sort of cute, but the other one is not. Plus the un-cute girl is very tall and thin. Poor thing.
We saunter over and I ask, "Done shopping already, Chub?" He looks at the lonely red pepper in his basket as the tall girl asks, "Chub? Who's Chub?"
Chubby ignores that, telling the girls, "This is my brother," and he puts his arm across my shoulders pulling me over in front of the girls, asking, "Ain't he beautiful?" The cute girl says, "Yes, he is. Oh my God, I can see some of you in him, Jeffrey." I grin, saying, "Huh, thanks," and the tall girl rubs my head. I pull my head away as she says, "Cool haircut." What the fuck? Maybe Ryan knows something about haircuts that I don't. Chubby nods to the tall girl, telling me, "She's, Stretch, and her girlfriend's, Petite." Petite says, "I'm Gloria and that's Caitlin. Your brother gave us those silly nicknames." Caitlin says, "Stretch doesn't sounds like much of complimentary nickname for a girl." Chubby goes, "Don't be silly, Stretch. That's Gisele Bundchen's nickname. Tom gave it to her on their wedding day." The girl's look at each other and burst out laughing with Petite asking, "Who's Tom?" I say, "It's been a pleasure meeting you both, but we've got a bus to catch." Petite asks, "Who's this handsome thing?" nodding at Robby. I go, "He's my boyfriend who's destined to be head of our household." The girls laugh and Chubby asks Petite, "You going with anyone?" She makes a face at Stretch and Chubby adds, "I just broke off my engagement with Gisele's sister, so I'm single and available now."
As the girls laugh, not really knowing why they're laughing, I say, "Robby and I will finish your shopping, Chubby," and as we walk away Caitlin asks, "What's this 'Chubby' thing he keeps calling you?" I don't hear what he says, but the squeals of laughter from the two girls tell me it was bizarre.
Robby and I get a bag of oranges, a sweet onion, and half a pound of Bliss potatoes. Everything goes into the basket Robby's carrying. Chubby's got the red pepper so the home fried potatoes are taken care of, and that leaves only the fruit to complete our shopping. We choose a honeydew melon, a wedge of watermelon, red and black seedless grapes, and very dark red strawberries. Will cut up the strawberries, honeydew, and watermelon and combine with the grapes for a visually attractive and delicious fruit dish. Summer fruit rock! I tell Robby, "Get the red pepper from Chub's basket and we'll check out the groceries." He does that and we go to a self-checkout register because there's no one interesting on the regular registers to flirt with. Chubby catches up with us as we're on our way out the door. He goes, "That was easy.
Here, let me carry that, Rob," and he takes the plastic bags from Robby, adding, "We knocked the shopping out pretty quickly, Don'cha think, bro?" I squeeze his shoulder, "Yeah, teamwork, Chubby." Back at the condo, I ask, "Your condo or mine, Chub?" He says, "Yours, in honor of your return."
Robby cuts up the fruit while I make the cream sauce for the chipped beef.
It's simple: make a roux from butter and flour, then over heat, stir in cream until it's the consistency of syrup and add the chipped dried beef.
Make some toast, and that's all there is to it. For the quiche we preheat the oven to 350 degree and precook the store-bought crust until it's halfway done. Then Robby and I fry bacon and crunch it into bits and pieces ready to be added to the quiche. Sauté chopped onion in the bacon fat, then combine cream and eggs, add the shredded cheese, bacon bits, and sautéed onions, pour it into the crust and bake it in the oven. While we're doing that Chubby's partially precooked pealed potatoes in the microwave and when they've cooled a little he cuts them into half inch cubes sautéing then with cut-up onion and red pepper. Everything gets seasoned with salt and pepper except the creamed beef because that's salty enough already.
In the middle of all this Tris comes down from her condo. Hugs and kisses all around and then that gets repeated all over again when my mom comes out of her bedroom full of smiles and good cheer. They want to help so Chubby assigns then the job of squeezing the oranges that we've had in the freezer getting cold. Robby makes toast for the creamed beef and each slice gets heavily buttered. The coffee's being made mug by mug and when the quiche is ready we put everything in serving dishes and then everything goes on the table. As we eat at the crowded table there's lots of chatter from the moms about how fabulous everything looks and tastes with Chubby pretending to be put-out saying, "Dylan comes home and just look at this fabulous brunch.
My brunches were terrible compared to this," and the moms go overboard telling him his brunches were wonderful. Robby, Chubby, and I tell the moms what we did last night leaving out all details of a sexual nature. All in all a very successful brunch using most of the pans and serving dishes we have in the house. Messy clean-up afterwards which the moms insist on doing themselves.
While they're doing that, after telling us guys to scoot, as Tris puts it, we go up to Chubby's condo for smokes on the balcony. Robby says, "Hey, there's usually a pick-up soft ball games at the high school Sunday afternoons. Ya wanna check it out?" Robby's missing his baseball summer league. This is the first summer since I've known him he isn't in some kind of summer baseball league. Chubby and I get our baseball gloves, sunglasses, and baseball caps, then ride with Robby in his pickup to his house so he can get his glove. I'm wearing Ryan's Merrimack baseball cap thinking about him during the ride. I feel like I abandon him and didn't fully keep my word, but there were circumstantial unexpected developments to consider, like Josh offering the severance pay, and Ryan's affair with Mike. Still, I don't feel totally okay about it. Ryan was a friend to start with, but he became a really good friend of mine this summer. He treated me right and I hope he thinks the same about me. I did some good things for him, which eases my conscience somewhat, but I still hate to disappoint a friend after giving my word.
While Robby's inside getting his glove, Chubby wants to know why I'm being quiet and I ask him, "Do you think I did the right thing coming home earlier than I promised Ryan? I feel kinda bad about that." He squeezes my shoulder, "You did the right thing, Dylan. First of all that boss-guy was asking you workers to leave early, and secondly by leaving you opened the way completely for Ryan to spend time with his boyfriend, what's-his-name, without feeling guilty about ignoring you." I mutter, "Yeah, I guess you're right."
Robby returns carrying his glove and wearing his Merrimack baseball cap, saying, "I guess we'll check out the new college apartments another weekend." Chubby goes, "Yeah, I totally forgot all about that," and I say, "We've got plenty of time to do it." Robby's cap has his uniform's number on it, but the one I'm wearing doesn't because Ryan wasn't a player. He was the equipment manager. Watching Robby walk to the pickup my heart swells with love for him, but something else too. The last couple of days he's been so sweet to me, but at the same time there's been a certain take-charge attitude to him that's subtle but definitely there. The past two days might be the best two days Robby and I have ever had together, but then that might be an allusion due to our separation. I don't know exactly, but I'm going to resist analyzing the shit out of this like I tend to do too often. Instead I'm going to enjoy it, but dammit I feel a glow when I'm with Robby that I don't remember feeling before. He's really something! When we get to the high school there's a pick-up baseball game in progress, but there are plenty of players already so they don't need us. Going to the upper level where the basketball courts are located we find three guys shooting baskets. Chubby challenges them to a three-on-three game. Neither Chubby nor I have been on an organized sport team since little league, although we're both pretty good at sandlot sports: baseball, basketball, or two hand touch football. With Chubby doing most of the talking we discover two of the three guys graduated high school this past spring. The taller of the two played on last year's high school basketball team. He has a big wide body and a long face, or I guess it's more accurate to say he has a long head. Nothing especially noteworthy about his appearance other than that. He introduces himself as, Bird Bates. 'Bird' obviously his nickname. Chubby asks him, as if it's a serious question, "Any relation to that guy in the motel?" Bird asks, "What motel," and I say, "Don't pay any attention to him,"
as his friend mumbles, "Bates motel, dumb ass."
Bird's friend, the short guy, has black hair that's straight as a poker reaching his shoulders, and to go with that bad 'look', he has a bristly full black beard... about a week's growth. And as if that's not bad enough he unfortunately has one of those noses I call a 'pig nose'. When you look straight at him you're looking up his nostrils. Best not to look right at him.
He introduces himself as, Zipper. The third kid is Robby's and my height, which is an inch and a half under six feet and this kid is rail thin. He doesn't know the other two. I noticed him glancing at me as Chubby's extracting information about these three strangers. This third guy begrudgingly tells us he's going into his sophomore year at community college. With further prodding from grinning Chubby the kid tells us his name is, Frank Denton.
He has a grown-out buzz cut, meaning all the hairs on his head are the same length... about two inches long. That makes for a really bad ragamuffin look when including his t-shirt that's about four sizes too big and cargo shorts that reach below his knees. Everything about him is uncool except my brain's cute-o-meter glows faintly. He stares defiantly at us looking like a tough guy, but one with a baby face of youngish almost cute facial features. I suppose 'tough looking guy with a baby face' is yet another oxymoron, but that's how he strikes me. It's more his attitude than anything else. He probably lacks confidence so acts tough to hide that fact. After he mumbles his name, he turns his back on us to swish a shot from the top of the key. We introduce ourselves with Chubby calling himself, "Arnold Love,"
adding, "And please don't call me Arnie." Zipper and Bird are friends, while Frank was just here shooting baskets when the other two joined him.
After a lot of shrugging from the three strangers, like they couldn't care less, Chubby's organizes a three-on-three basketball game were we call our own fouls, there are no three point baskets, and the other team takes the ball out after each score. Chubby says, "With every made basket counting as 'one', the first team to reach fifteen wins." Chubby will cover Zipper, Robby's on Bird, and I've got tough, baby faced, Frank. Frank passes the ball in to Bird who turns around at the top of the key and sinks the shot with the ball barely tickling the net as it goes through. Chubby says to Robby, "Um, you're allowed to try defending his shot." Robby chuckles giving Chubby the finger, mumbling, "Maybe you should cover Bird." Bird weights maybe a hundred and ninety pounds and he's six feet-two inches tall. Chubby's five-feet six inches and weighs about a hundred and twenty pounds. That match-up probably wouldn't work out in our favor.
I take the ball out and pass it in to Robby who fakes a shot and then dribbles around Bird for a layup. As the game progresses It's unusual that none of these guys does any trash talking while Chubby's doing enough for all six of us. He gets Bird and Chubby's guy, Zipper, laughing. My guy, Frank, says nothing. Frank likes taking shots from the corner baseline. Big rainbow shots that would be three point baskets in the NBA. The main reason the game stays close is Robby's athleticism and Zipper being a ball hog. He hogs the ball limiting their best player's opportunities to shoot. Bird's easily the best player on the court, but he's not aggressive. And one more factor: Bird's lazy and not all that interested in defending Robby, so Chubby and I feed Robby the ball whenever possible and he makes maybe half his shots.
Chubby's all over Zipper hacking his arms but refusing to call fouls on himself. When he hammers Zip-it, as Chubby's nicknamed him, Chubby yells, "That wasn't a foul, was it Zip-it?" Zipper laughs and Chubby goes, "I didn't think so." We can all hear Chubby's hand slapping at Zipper's wrist or hand. My brother can get away with stuff like that because he's so friendly and funny. Chubby's all over the place and he has a sneaky fast shot that's 'money' at twelve feet.
Me and Frank are into a lot of bodily contact with or without the ball, but so far he hasn't uttered a single word. I try making small talk with him, but he just smirks or grins at me. One time he shakes his head 'no' when I ask him if he didn't feel he should call a foul on himself for almost breaking my wrist trying to block my shot. We lose the first game 17 to 19.
They scored 15 baskets first but we had 14 points and you need to win by two.
That's a rule Chubby initiated when they scored the 15th basket. During the second game Frank and me get a little more chummy and he calls a foul on himself silently by putting his hand up. I take the ball out after my air ball missed everything, and as Chubby's doing exaggerated and unnecessary dribbling around, I say to Frank, "Hey, Frankie boy, you didn't foul me, why'd you call a foul on yourself?" He speaks for the first time, with a grin saying, "Because you're cute, that's why." Hmmm? The next time Frank makes one of his rainbow baskets from the baseline I rub his funny looking soft hair, saying, "Nice shot." The thing is, when I rubbed his head he didn't pull his head away, so I gave it a second rub. That's a test I've been using, like forever. If a guy pulls his head away frowning he's almost surely not interested, but if he holds his head steady with some eye contact, well I gotta wonder about him. The best result is when a guy leans into your hand when you rub his head or squeeze the back of his neck. That's a win right there.
Anyway I'm pretty sure this tough-looking cute ragamuffin kid is a gay candidate, but once I find out I'm not usually the one to do anything further.
That needs to be his job. Of course there's always the cock teasing factor to consider, although I don't believe he's one of those. In the meantime there's lots of touching between us, as well as, much too much eye contact for two straight guys. It's almost like he knows I'm gay or something. He has a bemused expression on his face at times, so maybe he is a cock teaser after all. Frank's a bit of an enigma.
We win the second game 16 to 18 mostly because ball-hog, Zipper, took almost half their shots without a lot of success. His friend, Bird, doesn't seem to care and their other teammate is Frank, who's mostly interested in bumping against me or getting tangled up with me going for a loose ball. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm having a good ol' time. An ice cream truck drives up to the street near the baseball field making that silly tinkling bell sound. We interrupt our game, tied at 10 baskets each, and all run down to buy drinks, mostly over-priced cold bottled water.
Walking back to the basketball court I ask Frank, "Are you always this quiet?" He shakes his head and chuckles without saying anything, so I test him again by squeezing the back of his neck, mumbling, "It's driving me crazy, Frankie. Say something!" He grins and leans into my hand. Bingo! I rub his head again, saying, "Ya know, I'm an awesome barber. How about a free haircut?" He looks at me with a surprised expression, then asks, "Really? I didn't know that." As if he knows anything about me. Anyway I nod my head, "Sure, you can ask my brother or Rob about my haircutting skills." Then I add, as another test," Neither my brother or my boyfriend would lie about that," emphasizing 'boyfriend' a little. He didn't bat an eye at that, so that's encouraging. Feeling a little guilty for flirting with Frank, I glance at Robby who's talking sports with Bird, so he doesn't seem concerned... it's all good.
After our water break we resume the rubber-match with renewed vigor...
everyone's sweating bullets by the time they win the third game 22 to 24. It was a lot of fun without any of the participants coming close to a fight, which is a good thing. Guys are doing one arm hugs or bumping fist saying, "Good game, dude," and things of that sort. The friends, Bird and Zipper are taking off as Robby asks Chubby and me, "How about a swim?" We're all for that and I ask Frank, "Interested in a swim to cool off?" He bites on his bottom lip grinning at something, then mutters, "No thanks. I better not." I go, "Aw, c'mon," and he shrugs, "I'd feel funny. I don't know you guys, plus I obviously don't have swim trunks with me." I shrug, "Well, I hope to see you around sometime, Frankie." I didn't expect he'd come with us in the first place, but then he asks, "Um, ya sure your friends wouldn't mind if I came along?" Surprised, I go, "Nah, they won't mind. C'mon, I'll lend you a swim suit," and he follows me over to where Robby and Chubby are sitting in the shade smoking a cigarette. I say, "Frankie here is coming with us for a swim." Chubby goes, "Love that killer baseline shot of yours, Frankie,"
and Frank mumbles, "Thanks, Arnold." The three of us laugh with Frank looking embarrassed or maybe it's he's pissed off we're laughing. I mean, he finally opened-up a little and we laugh at him. I tell him about Chubby's bullshit name and he goes, "Oh." If I was in Frank's position I'd never go off with three strangers, never mind borrowing a swim suit from one of them. I never expected Frank to say 'yes', so maybe there's more to him than meets the eye.
Frank tells us that he walked to the basketball court, so he doesn't have a car. No problem, he brings his basketball as we head for Robby's pickup.
Frank's walking beside me, asking, "You're still in Framingham, right?"
What's he mean 'still'? I tell him where I live and where Robby lives. He says, "Ooou, money," meaning Robby's neighborhood. It is a nice neighborhood with a lot of thirty year old, ten-room houses, but I never considered Robby's family rich. More like comfortable middle class. Frank sits in the pickup's skinny back seat and the three of us sit where we did driving over. I try keeping Frank in the conversation but he's still pretty quiet looking like maybe he's having second thoughts about coming with us. We're strangers, but so is everyone until you meet them. I like his looks but I don't know what I expect to do with him. Maybe give him a haircut. Mostly I'm intrigued at the remark he made about me being 'cute' and what exactly he meant by that. It could have been sarcasm, or even a put-down, but I don't think so.
I think he's gay. Maybe closeted or maybe bisexual, but I don't think he's straight.
At the condos Robby drops us off and he drives to his place. We'll take the Jeep so we'll have a ride back. Chubby goes up to his condo while Frank and I go inside my house. He says, "Nice place." I mumble, "Yeah, thanks to my mom I get to live in this nice place," and he asks, "Um, can I get a ride back after the swim? I live near the high school." I go, "Of course! I'll give you a ride home whenever you want to go." In my bedroom it's a little awkward because after all we are strangers. I show him a couple of swimsuits, saying, "You and I are the same size so any of these will fit you." He asks, "You don't mind a stranger wearing your bathing suit?" I go, "No, not really, depending on the stranger of course." He takes the first bathing suit I showed him. It's a gray boardie style suit with yellow piping, a birthday present a couple years ago from Mom. Not one of my favorites. Frank asks, "Where should I change?" I shrug, "Right here, or if you're shy use the bathroom." He nods his head and goes in the bathroom. Ha ha, that made me think again of the time Dodger took his tiny Speedo swimsuit off the first time I met him and handed it to me as he stood on the outdoor patio naked.
That was kind of the opposite of Frank's reaction.
I put a bathing suit on looking forward to jumping in the pool. Frank comes out mumbling, "It fits good. The price tags still on it though." I'm like, "Oh really? Huh, guess I've never wore it." I get a scissor from my desk and cut the tag off. We go out the front door wearing our t-shirts over the swim suits with Frank carrying his cargo shorts. His underpants are either in one of the pocket of his shorts, or he's wearing them. Unless he wasn't wearing underwear in the first place... ha ha. Fuck, why do I have thoughts like that? I adjust my junk as Chubby's coming down the steps smiling and asking a crazy question, "Frankie, were you a hall monitor as a sophomore? I'm thinking you gave me a pass when I was a senior skipping biology class."
Frank raises his eyebrows, surprised, saying, "Yeah, I was a hall monitor then. I volunteered for it to get out of Library study hall." Chubby puts his arm across Frank's shoulders, saying, "I was racking my brain trying to think where I've seen you before." Frank's talkative with Chubby as we go down to the Jeep that's parked at the curb. First off, what a memory Chubby has, but more interesting is the way he can make anyone feel at home, like they're one of the guys. I remember how sweet he was to Cory Dunlevy the first time I had Cory to the college apartment for dinner. Cory was still extremely defensive, bordering on anti-social behavior, but Chubby cut right through all that.
Chubby drives the three of us to Robby's house and we walk into the back yard where we find Robby with some kind of a device testing the water, Frank says to me, "It's funny Jeff remembered me from high school." I shrug, "Yeah, weird, huh?" He goes, "Ya know, I remember you from my freshman year, Dylan." I'm like, "What? I don't, um...?" He says, "I never stalked you or anything, you're safe. It's just that I watched you whenever I saw you at school." I'm like, "Why?" and he says, "I heard my cousin talking about you once. You were a junior working on the school newspaper." I'm staring at him, muttering, "Yeah, I was the school editor in my senior year. Where you on the paper? I don't, um, remember you." He shakes his head, "No, my cousin was though." I go, "Your cousin?" He says, "Yeah, I'm the third oldest of nine cousins. All of them aren't living in Framingham though." Wait a fucking minute! He said his name is Frank Denton. Fat Carl Denton's cousin? To be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are 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. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. 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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