By Donny Mumford - Laureate Author

Published on Feb 2, 2024




Friday afternoon's lunch-hour sex at John Darling's house was a smashing success. After consuming two greasy cheese pizzas and three sixteen-ounce Cokes, Gary sent Dickie and Andy upstairs, then pushed John's cock and balls into a cock ring, fitted a dildo in his ass, then smoked a cigarette, watching John's reaction to the vibrating dildo, which John said he wouldn't be participating in this afternoon, but did anyway because Gary gets things done his way.

John was captured by Gary's confident dominance, becoming seriously aroused when Gary started the actual fucking. The same thing happened when Gary fucks Dickie, John only lasted a minute before blowing an awesome climax, squealing with delight. Ya see, the vibrating dildo get a person ready to blow.

Anyway, after that rolling thunder climax, John ended up on the floor. Helped up, he sat on Gary's lap as he likes to do with his sex partners, snuggling against him. Gary's body was the first fat body John's snuggled against, so that was new. At first, John wasn't sure what he thought about the fat but wisely didn't mention it to Gary. And then, by the end of the lunch hour, John was deeply into Gary, fat or no fat. John thought Gary was wicked cool and wicked hot, too.

It was too soon for John to analyze exactly what it was about fat Gary that John was attracted to, he jus enjoyed the fact that he was attracted to this overweight older guy. A couple of years older...

Earlier, on Gary's lap, John hinted that he wants mind doing a little more, so he let out a long exhale and then asked, "I'm wondering, Gary, um, if you put the vibrating dildo back in my ass could you do everything all over again right now?"

Gary's arms are loosely around John as he nods, mumbling, "Yeah, I could do it all again right now if I wanted to, but I don't want to. Has anyone mentioned to you that your anus is a little bit loose? How many times a day are you taking a hard cock up there?"

"What? Looses? Well, huh... ah, that's a very personal question, don't ya think? And no one other than you has ever mentioned that lie about me having a loose anus. And now that I've thought about it for a second, that hurt my feelings."

"Oh, please! Don't waste your time trying to pull off that teary bullshit about you being over-emotional. That won't work with me. You like acting like a crying cunt to get pity."

"What? How can you say that? Why are you being so mean?"

"Heh-heh, I'm not being mean. I'm kidding you, um... fuck, what's your name again? I wasn't kidding about the loose asshole, though, that was being honest, but I was joking about the other stuff."

John snickers, "You're a major league prick, ain't-cha? I'm John Darling, you dummy."

Gary chuckles as John turns on his lap, getting face to face with him, one of his knees outside either side of Gary's legs. John snuggles his bare, hairless chest against Gary's hairy one. Then John squirms his groin against Gary's extremely thick, black, crinkly pubic hair that surrounds his shortish, fat cock.

Gary smirks at John's squirming and mutters, "Seriously?"

John giggles, "I can't help squirming on you 'cause you're so macho-sexy, Gary," quickly adding, "That's not brown-nosing, so leave the ping-pong paddle in the satchel. I was, as you say, just being honest."

Gary mutters, "Dickie gets paddled for brown-nosing about once a month and it's only one whack. So don't think I'm some kind of monster... oh, what's this? I feel your dick getting hard again. Jesus, you look like a cute choir boy, but in actuality, you're a sex slut, ain't-cha? To mimic you."

Laughing, John humps against Gary's circumference-startling cock as his cock is getting hard as a train rail. Squirming and moaning against Gary's uber-masculine, albeit fat body, John murmurs, "Yes, I'm a slut, do me again, Gary."

"Christ! You're getting me turned on again, you adorably slut. Haha, you're a dangerous hottie."

"What? I'm not dangerous...." They're in the finished-basement bar area, hearing voices above them in the kitchen. Andy's saying, "My Goddamn ass is swollen. That was spectacular fucking, Dickie. I can't believe..."

Not listening to more of that, John slides off Gary's lap, Gary saying, "Yeah, it's time to go. I gotta get back to work." Standing, he pulls on underpants, then points at John, "Tonight, dude, I'll fuck a new asshole on you if you want." Pointing at the dildo, Gary says, "Ah, I need you to recharge your dildo's battery before tonight."

John reaches over and rubs his fingers through Gary's chest hair, muttering, "It's not my dildo, and I don't know how to charge dildoes, so..."

Pushing John away, Gary puts his shirt on, saying, "Well, I'm screwing a dildo in your ass tonight, so find out how to charge it, okay?"

"Okay, Gary, I'll ask Dickie how to do it."

Grinning, Gary mumbles, "So, you like my hairy chest, huh? Coincidentally, I like fellows like you with no body hair. You're almost a girl but with a superior pussy."

Then he runs his fingers through John's hair, saying, "Girlie boys like you with pretty blond hair would look even more perfect with a flattop haircut like mine. I might adopt you and send you to Randy's Barbershop for a flattop."

John laughs, then says, "I don't know why I'm laughing when it's scary how much I believe you could do that..." Then, they both look over at the stairs hearing Andy and Dickie noisily stomping down them.

Dickie pops out of the stairwell, "Ta, da! We're back..."

John says, "Hi, best buddy! Hey, can you tell me how to charge this dildo," pointing at the dildo Gary used on him.

Dickie rubs John's shoulder affectionately, "Sure, I can do that for you, best buddy."

They grin at one another, and Gary rolls his eyes, muttering, "Okay, keep it in your panties, girls. Time to go, Dickie. We need to get back to work, or your old man, we'll dock our pay."

Andy exuberantly said, "Well, I must say you guys know how to put on a fabulous lunch hour sex party! I enjoyed it tremendously. Thank you, Dickie Marshall, it's been awesome meeting you, both last night and this afternoon."

John goes, "Wow, that's as excited as I've ever seen you get, Andy!"

Gary gets John in a partial headlock, snickering and saying, "You got pretty excited a little while back yourself, didn't you, pretty boy?"

Not even trying to get free, John's body rests comfortably into the soft fat of Gary's right tit. John mutters, "Uh-huh," and Gary says, "Well, no worries because Dickie and I will be back after work, and you two can prepare our Friday night supper."

Dickie says, "Oh, I forgot to tell you, Gary. I can't tonight. It's my mother's birthday, and my big brother is taking us out to dinner."

Letting go of John, Gary smacks Dickie's bare ass, saying to John and Andy, "Well then, we'll be here a little later. Let's say, nine o'clock, and you'll owe us a supper."

Hopping on one foot, putting his pants on, Dickie mumbles, "Gee, Gary, you're, um, being awfully nice."

"I'm always nice, but this good-looking motherfucker over there," pointing to John, "Got me in an especially nice frame of mind. We have a date tonight, right...ah? Um... fuck! Can I believe I've forgotten your name again?"

"John Darling, Junior."

Pushing Dickie toward the stairs, Dickie still buttoning his shirt, Gary mumbles, "Oh, yeah. How the hell can I forget a name like that?"

All four guys go outside where there's no dramatic kissing and hugging goodbye, just a wave here and there and John saying, "See you tonight, Gary!" Then he realizes he said that with over-the-top enthusiasm, so he sneaks a glance at Andy, who has a puss on his face, staring at John.

Shrugging, John whispers to Andy, "I'm just trying to stay on Gary's good side. His paddle... remember?"

Andy says, "It's my man's paddle, Dickie's paddle."

Gary, who is driving Dickie's Monte Carlo, does a pathetic wheelie. Dicjke did the same thing last night. One of them copies everything the other doses, and it's a good bet that it's Dickie doing the copying.

Shaking his head in amazement, John mutters, "He's so cool, fat Gary is wicked cool. Um, how was Dickie, Andy?"

Andy smiles, "I can see you think that fat-fuck Gary is a hot, dominant hunk of a stud. Well, Dickie is a hot dominant stud, too; ah, when he's not around Gary, that is. I could easily get addicted to that indescribable feeling of being filled up to the maximum back there with Dickie's super-fat hard penis. Filled up and dominated... oh, man, he rocks!"

"Sure, I remember how Dickie was really good fucking us last night. Too bad he didn't finish me off. You hand to do that. so..."

"So what? He couldn't stop fucking me. Don't get jealous, but he and I are a great match."

"I'm not jealous. Jeez, though, considering all the years I've known him... it's weird we didn't know about each other."

Andy says, "I'll say that's weird. Oh man, though, when a guy puts your cock and balls in a cock ring, a vibrating dildo up your ass, then he impales you with his iron ridiculously fat rod... that's when you know you're being dominated, and oooh... it was deliciously hot."

Seeing the expression on John's face, like... whaat? Andy backtracks, saying, "I don't mean it was as good as fucking you, Darling. You're still my favorite sex partner! It's just, for a change, me being the helpless bottom boy being manhandled by dominant Dickie... that's fun, too. That's all I meant."

Walking inside, John says, "Oh, so Dickie was dominant again without Gary there. You know what? Thinking about a dominant Dickie, my best friend for years, isn't as sexy as fat Gary who is turning me on like wildfire. Um, oh, I mean, I still prefer you better than anyone. Um, I don't care for sex toys, although this afternoon when Gary, um... Well, never mind."

"Yeah? Gary was special, huh? I kind of like that Dickie can be humbled by Gary and then come right back as strong as ever to dominate little old me. We really had good sex, mostly because of Dickie."

Andy flops on the family room sofa, and John sits right next to him, wrapping his arms around Andy's right arm, saying, "You are most definitely number one for me, Andy."

John, hugging Andy's arm, adds, "Gary can be nice, too. Mostly when it's just him and me, though. Still, he doesn't take any shit, so I needed to be on my toes at all times. and I never forgot who's the boss, but he was nice to me, too. I can tell he really likes me."

"Yeah, but he's fat! Doesn't that bother you a little? I mean, he's got that horrible beard, too. He's fat and mean, with an ugly beard and that absurd flattop... Ick, right?"

John snickers, "Dickie has the same haircut, but, no, Gary's not icky! Sure, I wish he wasn't fat, but I can overlook that because he's so sexily dominant, and he's full of compliments for me; you heard him complimenting me, right? And he's so sexily hairy, too! Holy shit, I never thought I'd think hairy was sexy, but what a turn-on that is for me! And, c'mon, your man looks like Huckleberry Finn."

Shrugging, Andy mumbled, "I think he's attractive in a certain way, and I don't understand why anyone would think your man's black beard looked good. Gawd, it's terrible!"

"Yes, he has a hideous, thick, bristly, black-as-coal beard, but if he shaved, he'd be handsome. Look, if Gary lost fifty pounds, shaved his beard, and got a sensible haircut, he'd have guys lining up to be fucked by him."

Pulling his arm from John's arms, Andy mutters, "Seriously? You're not on drugs, are you? No, heh-heh, as long as you're okay with that brute, I'll keep the less dominant best friend of yours, Dickie Marshall. Normally, I'd rather it be you and me, but I'm loving the temporary change of pace. Still, it's so sad that you two missed out on all those years being good friends while never realizing you were both queer."

Usually, John would feel very comfortable cuddling into Andy's body, but after Gary's fat body, John thought that Andy felt skinny. Giggling, he says, "Do you realize we're acting like two girls who just got fucked and are now giggling, comparing notes, bragging about how our man is the best."

Andy makes a swishy move with his head and hand, lisping, "Yes, but it's so much girlie fun! Aw, I feel like I'm a girl half the time anyway, Johnny, although I know in my heart that I'm not one of those transgender people. I feel like a male who likes males. Ya know?"

"I guess," and John puts his leg over both of Andy's and sits on Andy's lap facing him, the way he just did with Gary. Andy's used to this and grins because he likes it. John stares at Andy's face, then kisses his lips. "I love you like another best friend. You have made it possible for me to be totally relaxed being myself," and then they kiss for two minutes.

Stopping, John asks, "Can I, um, I mean, would you do a little urine play with me? I'll get naked in the bathtub, and..."

Andy shrugs, "Sure, let's go," and they get up and go upstairs with John saying, "I have this picture in my brain where you pee on my head, and it'll run down all over my body? How badly do you need to pee, Andy?"

"Moderately. I could have waited an hour or so before urinating, but I began feeling the need to piss building up, so I should have a pretty good piss load for you..."

In the bathroom, John gets undressed and sits in the tub, and then lets his urine flow, moving his penis so the piss stream hits under his chin. Andy watches, cheering John on until his piss stream dies down. Andy pulls his dick out the fly of his pants, muttering, "Suck on my dick first, Darling."

"Oh, yeah, sure, Andy," and, with his own piss on his legs, ass, chin, chest, and stomach, John's five-inch boner sticking up parallel with his flat stomach, hard and throbbing, John gets on his knees at the side of the tub. He and Andy make faces at one another, Andy murmuring, "This is crazy," as John snickers, then says, "It gets me so fucking hot, though!"

Andy mutters, "I can barely smell urine. It'd be cooler if we had a strong piss smell, right?"

"Uh-huh. Sometimes, your pee smells like coffee. Oh, Christ, remember that time my cum shot almost hit the ceiling?"

Casually picking up Andy's longish penis, John's piss dripping off his chin. He casually rubbed the back of his hand across his chin; then, he licked up and down the shaft of Andy's cock, and said, "If you pull your pants down, I can lick your balls too."

Nodding, Andy drops his shorts and underpants to his knees, and John again takes Andy's penis in his fingers, leans forward, and licks under Andy's scrotum, lifting it with his tongue, feeling Andy's nuts moving around a little bit inside their sack. Licking, licking, licking, slurp, slurp, slurp, and then the head of Andy's penis gets many fast licks, like a puppy licking a Tootie Pop, really fast. Andy goes, "Ah, ah, ah... oh, that's enough. Oh fuck, Johnny, that felt good."

John grins, "I like doing that for you," and he sits in his piss, cross-legged in the tub, his cock a defiant boner. Smiling, John says, "Go ahead, Andy."

Andy used to be hesitant to do this, but he got over that. Trying not to laugh out loud, he snickers and lets a strong flow of urine hit John's neck; then he adjusts his penis so the flow of warm, very pale-yellow urine is splattering off the top of John's head as John strokes his cock and sticks out his tongue.

Andy can't stop chuckling, watching his piss running over John's naked body, some of it going into his mouth as John steadily stroked his boner. Andy's piss stream lasts about twenty seconds, but the twenty seconds seems long when it's going on.

Andy says, "Sorry, Darling, but that's all I got. C'mon over and suck me off."

Looking as if he's in a trance, his eyes half closed, his fist tightly gripping his five-inch harder-than-possible penis, John lays in the tub, stretching his legs out as much as the tub allows, and, moving in his own draining piss, he's stroking himself off with a quiet moan followed by, Ahh!" as cum shoots up a good three feet before dropping straight down on John's chest.

Moaning, "Oooh," John holds up his finger, like... give me a second, and slowly pulls on his softening cock, then sits up, looking groggy. "Oh, fuck, that was good. Thanks, Andy. You've got great urine... you really do!"

Then, leaning over the side of the tub, he gets on his knees, takes Andy's dick in his hand, licks off a drop of piss, then sucks him off in forty seconds, cum pumping into John's mouth and him swallowing it as fast as it's pumped out.

Andy steps back, moaning, "Omigod... ummm, oh, fuck, yeah! That was so good!"

Still pulling on his pecker, John says, "Would you pull the shower curtain closed and turn the shower on for me? Thanks, Andy..."

When the water first comes out, it's really cold, and John yells, "Fuck!" but he needs cold water to wake him up from almost a coma caused by his intense urine fetish, which he never knew he had until he started having sex with Andy. They'd discussed how weird it was that John never noticed his urine fetish when Brian was fucking him or when John was sucking Brian off.

As the water turned from cold to warm to hot, John got to his feet and started washing with shampoo and soap, feeling good, having satisfied his fetish, smirking about it, then saying out loud, "Fetishes are sexy, good fun..."

He knew Andy would want to satisfy his fetish soon, his foot fetish, but for now, after two orgasms in the last hour John was pretty sure Andy wasn't thinking about John's feet.

Turning off the shower and getting out of the tub, then drying himself, John says, "Things are going my way so much it's making me nervous. It's getting to be too good to be true."

Andy yells from the bedroom, "What did you say, Darling?" John yells back, "Nothing!"

Their plans for today include getting John's parents' clothes boxed up and ready for a charity pickup tomorrow. They first need to go to Home Depot and buy twenty cardboard boxes, which they do. Back at the house, silently, they spent the next couple of hours packing up his father's clothes. Andy had arranged for the Salvation Army to pick up the boxes on Saturday at three o'clock, so they wanted to get most of it done today.

As John tapes the fifth box's flaps he says, "This is creeping me out, Andy. I should be crying or something, but it's just not in me. I know I should be emotional about my parents' deaths, but instead, I think of the tines they shit on me or how they were always fighting, making me feel very uncomfoirtable. Then, I'll get emotional when you say something sweet to me, or I think of Dickie's friendship over the years, and... Oh, fuck, I don't know what I even mean anymore..."

Andy pats John's back, "This is a nasty job, Johnny. I didn't know your parents, but I'm even feeling bad for packing all their clothes up, and... Well, let's just keep going."

They only intended to do John's father's clothes, but they got in a robot frame of mind and kept going, doing his mother's clothes too. Then, Andy says, "What do you want to do about all your mother's cosmetics and bathroom soaps and all kinds of shit she has in the bathroom."

John shakes his head, "I don't care. This is too much for me, Andy. I can't do any more today. When I recover from the clothes giveaway, I'll put all mom's bathroom stuff in the trash."

Andy mutters, "I'll do it for you. You go outside and smoke a cigarette or something. What we need to do is, we need to get some weed. For now, I'll get a couple of trash bags and take care of cleaning out your mom's bathroom."

"I should argue that that's my job, but I can't even argue with you because I'm so grateful I won't need to do it. Thank you so much, Andy. I can't do any more of this shit right now."

"Do what I told you. Go outside and smoke or have a beer or something. I'll take care of this. And, um, just so you know, Gary wouldn't do this for you... just saying."


Andy waves a dismissive wave, "Go outside, Darling. I'll take care of this shit."

Shaking his head, John goes out the back door and sits on the porch steps. Taking some deep breaths, he looks at the beautiful mountain views, takes another deep breath, and then says out loud, "Gary wouldn't do this for me? Is that what he said?"

Getting up, he goes inside, then down to the basement. Behind the bar, he gets a beer, seeing they only have two left now. Outside again, the beer can in his hand, John leans against the porch railing, then lights a cigarette, takes a drag, and remembers a cedar closet in the attic that's full of his parents' clothes that they haven't worn in years.

Huh, he murmurs out loud to no one, "Why didn't they give those clothes away like I'm going to?" Taking a drag off the cigarette, he exhales, leans over the railing, his head over the line of plants alongside the porch, and starts crying like a baby. It's the biggest boohooing cry he can ever remember doing, gasping for oxygen, crying, sobbing, tears running down his face like rain, sobbing uncontrollably. Gasping, he can't catch his breath; the beer can is knocked off the railing. Looking at that, he swallows a gulping sound and stops crying.

"What the fuck?" John mutters, then he sucks in some smoke from the cigarette he still has between his fingers and feels the nicotine buzz in his blood, and he starts crying again, snot running down his upper lip. Still sobbing, he wipes across his nose with his arm, and his crying becomes little gulping sobs with so many tears he wonders... Where is all the water for all these tears coming from?

Taking in a lot of air, he lets it out slowly, testing if he's going to break out crying again. Looking around, he sees the beer can in the dirt near the shrubs in the manicured bed alongside the porch. Nodding, he goes down the three steps to the backyard and walks around the side of the porch to pick up the beer can. Holding it to his lips, he drinks the last two ounces still in the can while looking at the froth of the other ten ounces of beer soaking into the mulch. He mutters, "What?" nods and goes back up on the porch, then inside to get another beer. Closing the door of the small refrigerator under the bar, he mutters, "Now there's only one beer left.

Outside, sitting on the porch steps, many tear streaks drying on his face, John lights another cigarette and smokes it, drinking the Budweiser and not thinking about anything. A half-hour later, John's staring at nothing, still holding the beer can that's been empty for the last ten minutes. He feels empty, too, but he can't cry anymore, even though he wishes he could.

Sitting on the steps, John turns around to watch Andy come out with two trash bags full of John's mother's bathroom, um, stuff. Andy says, "It was incredible, Darling. Totally unbelievable that in your mother's bathroom, every drawer, every shelf, every nook and cranny, everywhere something could be put, something was put there. The linen closet was packed with things, bottles, tubes, every kind of container you could think of; everywhere there were bottles, cans, soaps, lotions, sprays, every Goddamn thing in the world, many containers unopened but yet, in front of them, were more unopened containers. Was your mother stocking up to open a store?"

John shrugs, "I don't know," and Andy goes past him carrying the over-full trash bags to the large trash barrels against the side of the garage.

After dumping the trash bags, Andy sits next to John, pats his back, and says, "I hope my tirade didn't upset you too much, Darling, but dude, I couldn't believe how much..." He stops, "Are you okay, Johnny?" Noticing John's face, "Have you been crying?"

"Huh? What? Me? No, I'm fine. We're out of beer; well, there is one left if you want it. We'll buy more, and, oh, let's remember to ask Dickie tonight about getting some weed for you."

"I don't want the beer, but I would like to smoke some grass. Why not call Dickie right now? Maybe he can bring some with him when they come over here at nine o'clock."

"Okay, in a minute. I just remembered that there's a closet full of clothes in the attic."

"Oh, balls to that; I don't want to dump any more clothes. Tomorrow maybe. How about calling Dickie, though."

Nodding, John takes out his phone and calls Dickie Marshall, who answers the first ring and says, "Good, it's you, Darling! Hey, the nurse was a good fuck, but I want it to be you and me tonight! Fat Gary can have the other guy, the nurse. We, you and me, should be tightening our life-long friendship at this new homo level we're at! Dude, am I right?"

John nods, as he's always doing when talking on the phone, even though the other person obviously can't see his nod. He sidesteps Dickie's rant, asking, "Can you hook Andy and me up with some pot? Andy's a big pot smoker, but, as you know, I can take it or leave it."

Andy goes, "What, weed? How about what I just said?"

John figured his nod showed he agreed with Dickie, but now he verbalizes it, "Yeah, it should be you and me. Your fat friend made me use the cock ring and everything. The problem is he will probably beat us both up if we try what you said. Anyway, I kind of want to do it with him again. Don't you love his hairy, sexy body?"

After a chuckle, Dickie mutters, "Um, I'm assuming you're joking about liking his obese body, Darling, but I definitely like your skinny hairless one! I like it approximately a hundred-and-seven times better than Gary's fat hairy one. Plus, he's short, and I like you being my height. He and your friend, the nurse, are good together, and they're almost the same size. Um, well, whatshisname, the nurse, isn't fat at all, but..."

Andy bumps John's arm, asking, "What's Dickie saying?"

John tells Dickie, "Just a second, Marshall..." and holds the phone to his chest, saying, "He wants it to be him and me tonight. You'd get the dominant, fat guy, Gary."

"Fuck that! You and I already agreed we like the way it was last night with Dickie fucking us. Fat Gary doesn't fit with us three. Or he should be with Dickie and pretend we're not around."

Nodding, John goes, "I know, but Gary won't let us change partners, and he's the boss; he'll decide, and it'll just be for tonight, Andy. Don't make waves. Dickie fucks you really dominantly, so what's your problem?"

Andy mutters, "You're right, Dickie's good. I'm jealous that fat fuck gets to fuck you, though. That's mostly my problem."

Nodding at Andy, John mutters, "Don't be jealous," then he says into the phone, "No, we can't do it tonight, Dickie. Look, it's only for tonight. You and I have the rest of our lives. By the way, Andy and I loved the way you dominated us last night, so we'll look forward to doing that again sometime soon. Then, another time it'll just be you fucking me. Okay? Um, don't say anything to Gary about, um, about anything we talked about. He might be offended."

"Okay, but for tonight only, Johnny. Tomorrow it's just me fucking you. Tell your nurse to call Gary and make his own plans."

"Yeah, okay, but how come you and Gary can't remember people's names?"

"Bullshit! I remember names! Now, how much do you want to spend on the grass? I can get us different grades of marijuana at different prices."

"Awesome! Get the best 'cause money's no concern."

John hears "CLICK" frowns, then hits 'END,' saying, "So, it'll be the same tonight. Um, Gary fucking me and Dickie doing you. Just for tonight, um, probably. Or maybe Gary will want to do me another time or two. Anyway, Dickie said he's getting us primo grass."

Andy puts his arm around John's neck, pulling his head over to kiss his cheek, and then he murmurs, "Okay, what choice do I have? We all need to do what Gary says, I guess. Don't you want it to be just you and me, Johnny?"

"Of course, I do, but a little change of pace is okay. You said that yourself not too long ago. Now, let's buy some beer and some food that we can cook here at the house. We need to start cooking our diners. Do you know how to cook?"

Andy kisses John again, murmuring, "Can I cook? Jeez, you used to say how awesome I am, Johnny. Did you change your mind?"

John laughs for a second, then starts crying again. He felt it coming on and held his breath to try not to do it, but he burst into tears and sobs anyhow. John lies against Andy, who is shocked at how fast John went from a laugh to hysterical crying but wraps John in his arms, mumbling, "It's okay. You don't need to say I'm awesome every two minutes. I shouldn't have even mentioned that... jeez!"

Sobbing, John babbles, "I remember that V-neck sweater, the red one you saw me put in the box. I gave that sweater to my Dad, that exact fucking sweater, last Christmas. And because he thought I'd picked it out, he made the biggest fuss over it like it was the best fucking gift he'd ever received. I didn't even pick it out. Mom bought it and told me to give it to Dad. Plus, I'd almost been expelled the day before Christmas break because Brian talked me into doing that childish cherry-bombing lavatory toilet bullshit, and I naturally got caught, but my Dad said not to worry about it. He didn't even yell at me! And there I was this afternoon, throwing out all his clothes, plus that fucking Polo brand hundred-and-ninety-dollar red sweater."

Andy rubs John's back, muttering, "A hundred-and-ninety-dollar sweater? What was it made out of, gold thread?"


The sobbing lets up, but John's nose is running like a fountain. He abruptly stands, saying, "I'm so embarrassed, Andy," and goes inside. Andy hops up and follows him. In the kitchen, John rolls off a few paper towel sheets and blows his nose, wipes his eyes, and blows his nose again. "This crying is getting out of hand, Andy. What should I do?"

He shrugs, "I know... we'll find a doctor for you, a therapist, but it is understandable that you'd get emotional throwing out your parents' clothes, um, everything they owned. I mean, it's the right thing to do, and all... to donate the stuff to charity, but it's also understandable why you'd be emotional about doing it."

Taking a deep breath, John says, "You know what? It's been a bitch doing this, but in a way, I'm relieved I've had these out-of-control crying jags. I was afraid there was something wrong with me for not getting upset, you know, that my parent got killed. This is probably a delayed reaction. Yeah, but still find a therapist for me. That's what I need. See what he or she has to say about my crying jags."

"Uh-huh, but, um, did Dickie, by any chance, mention the grade of grass he's buying."

"What? Grass? Are you bored talking about my emotional problems, Nurse Salsbury? After all, you are getting paid to be concerned about that."

"Now, just a Goddamn minute here! I've been with you every step of the way since you awakened from your coma, and even before that, I was taking the best care of your body, so don't..."

John's crying again, so Andy stops yelling and hugs John, "I'm sorry, Darling. It's okay, shh..."

Ten seconds later, John's like, "Oh, fuck, that was a short one. Whoa, this feels good, Andy. This crying is clearing my conscience. Omigod, I might be normal, ah, about, um, you know, feelings or something. And you don't need to say you're sorry. I need to tell you I'm sorry because you're right; you have been with me through everything. Thank you for that! Please, let's forget anything negative... I love you like a brother! We'll start with that."

"I love you too, Johnny."

"Whew! That's better, and I think I'm done crying. I'm good, but, um, I'd still like to talk with a therapist, so..."

"So, I'll get one for you. Probably, I should wait to start with that on Monday. It's too late to start today."

Nodding, John smiles, "I liked that you kept your arms around me through our entire discussion and my crying jag, Andy. You make me feel safe."

Andy squeezes John, then they kiss, then grin as John says, "You know what? I could be your pet. Put a dog collar and a leash on me, and I'll trot along behind you wherever you go."

"Oh, shit, Johnny, that gave me a hardon... haha, no, not really. We joke around about everything and it's fun. Plus, we're always saying we love each other. It all makes me feel really good."

Andy takes his arms away, and John says, "Well, I love you like my favorite best friend... that's all I know about love, except it's a powerful thing whatever kind you have. For now, though, let's go buy the beer and groceries I mentioned a while ago. The guys will probably want a few beers tonight, and, as I said, I think you and me should start cooking our dinners."

Putting on their cowboy hats, Andy ginning, feeling silly wearing it, they walk outside, and Andy asks, "Well, what will we cook?"

Getting into the driver's side of his pickup, John says, "We'll start with something easy... steaks and baked potatoes. You can look up on your phone how to cook those things."

As John backs the pickup out of the driveway, Andy takes out his phone, saying, "I think I can cook steak and a baked potato without looking up how to do it, but have you noticed you're taking more of a leadership role lately?"

"No, I haven't noticed that."

To please John, Andy Googles cooking instructions, and they decide to buy a charcoal grill and charcoal, which they do at an ACE hardware store. Then, at the supermarket, they buy beer, bottled water, steaks, Russet baking potatoes, corn on the cob, butter, tomatoes, cucumbers, Italian salad dressing, and sweet onions.

Driving home, the charcoal grill secured in the bed of the pickup, Andy says, "This feels like we're getting domesticated, Darling, and that's a good thing because we're on our own out here. We're the adults in our lives."

John says, "Absolutely, and pretty soon we should probably start acting like adults... haha."

"We are acting like adults, Darling. Twenty-two-year-old adults."

"Haha, does that count?"

At seven-thirty, they're eating corn on the cob that's dripping with butter and salt; steaks are cooking on the charcoal grill, and potatoes in the oven were done five minutes ago. There are placemats, knives, forks, butter, salt and pepper shakers, sour cream, plus bottled water on the table.

Eating the cobs of corn, the guys are smirking at one another because preparing this food was a wonderful mutual effort that beginner luck has turned everything out perfectly... so far. If the steaks are cooked properly, medium rare, they aced their first dinner.

Dumping the cobs in the trash, Andy forks the steaks off the grill, asking, "How do we tell if they're done? Google said to use a meat thermometer, but we didn't see one in the supermarket."

Shrugging, "Cut into one and look at the inside."

Andy does that, mumbling, "It's a little overdone, I think."

"Goddamn, that charcoal must be hotter than shit. The steaks weren't on the grill very long. C'mon, stick the steaks on plates, and I'll get the potatoes and sliced tomatoes, onions, and cucumber salad."

They start eating the steaks that are still pink inside; the potatoes split down the center with plenty of butter, sour cream, salt, and pepper tasted delicious, as did the salad. They're eating and grinning at one another for five minutes, then John stops. "Andy, um, I've noticed this, um, thing about you many times before but didn't want to say anything. Now, however, we're as close as a married couple, so I feel I need to say that some people might think, but not me; other people might think you eating with your mouth open as you always do, making all those mouths sounds is, um, well, uncouth."

"Uh-huh, but you don't think that, right?"

Chewing steak with his mouth closed, John swallows and says, "Um, probably I wouldn't use the word 'uncouth.' You know, it's not a word I'd normally use."

Andy laughs, then says, "Here is some jaw-dropping news from the Guardian: eating with your mouth open makes food taste better."


"Yep. Research revealed that eating with your mouth open helps aromatic compounds reach the back of your nose. This, in turn, boosts your olfactory sensory neurons, which makes food taste better."

Nodding, John mutters, "Oh, uh-huh. Would it be possible to sacrifice a tiny bit of taste and eat with your mouth shut? Not for me, but so others won't talk behind their hands that my best friend is an uncouth motherfucker."

"You mean I should reduce the nose enhancement of tasting the foods I'm eating?"

Raising his eyebrows, John mutters, "We're not eating with our noses, are we?"

They both laugh, but Andy continues tasting what he's eating better than John. In fact, it might be Andy's mouth is wider open now as he eats than before. He meticulously eats everything on his plate, making many juicy mouth sounds as a pain continually spiked up the back of John's head like a needle sticking him there.

After cleaning up the kitchen, John asks, "Is that charcoal ever going to, um, go out, or whatever it's called when it's not glowing red? It's still putting out a lot of heat."

Andy says, "I don't know, but I warned you about using the whole twenty-five-pound bag of charcoal."

They wash up in the bathroom and then brush their teeth. John makes drinks of bourbon, ice, and water. They both make a face after each swallow of bourbon while waiting for their dominant tops to arrive. John says, "I need a cigarette to help get this bourbon down," and he gets his pack of Marlboro, offering one to Andy, who shakes his head, mumbling, "I'm looking forward to smoking a joint tonight, and if we don't like this bourbon drink, why are we drinking it?"

"Because we need to be able to drink liquor like everybody else, so we're getting used to it. We don't want to be nerds or geeks, do we?"

They laugh at that stupid question, and then Andy asks, "Have you noticed we're laughing a lot more than we used to?"

They hear a horn blow. John looks at the grandfather clock and mumbles, "They're ten minutes early. I'm noticing a trend. They're always ten minutes early for whatever time Gary says they'll be someplace. Let's go out to meet them."

John is anxious to see what Gary has in store for him tonight but doesn't want to seem overly anxious about it, obviously. Be cool, don't hurt Andy's feelings by being overly excited about being with Gary...

Outside the front door, Andy and John watch Dickie and Gary getting out of the Monte Carlo, Dickie carrying his sex toys satchel, yelling over, "I got you some primo joints, boys."

When they meet at the from door, they do one-arm hugs, Gary saying, "Are you two drunk? I can smell the booze on your breath."

Andy says, "We're not drunk. Are you guys high? I can smell the pot on your clothes."

They're all standing on the front stoop, Dickie saying, "Yeah, we smoked one to test it, and it's as good as advertised. I got you boys some Triple-A weed. This is nice, dank, beastie weed. My man, Dee Dee TV, this super-cool older black man I've been doing business with for years, only had rolled joints tonight. Um, so, you know, there's a little extra cost for rolling the joints. Usually, a gram of grass is around ten dollars, but his one-gram rolled joints are going for thirteen dollars each."

Andy goes, "That's fair enough."

Acting smug, Dickie says, "Glad you think so. I got you ten of them, so that's what one of you owes me. The one we smoked included. It had to be tested before I'd charge you. Um, so, who, you know..."

John's ignoring Dickie's hints about getting reimbursed because he, of course, is going to do that, but he likes teasing his old friend. First, he asks, "How much is a gram, and why are you using the metric system? We're Americans. We use the Imperial system of measurements."

Dickie goes, "No shit, Einstein. I knew we didn't use the metric system, but I didn't know our measurement system is called Imperial. Um, anyway, a gram is one-twenty-eighth of an ounce. I think..."

Gary says, "What's the holdup? Let's pass around another one of those joints."

Dickie goes, "Whoa, not so fucking fast! Who's paying for the weed?"

Yeah, they're in for quite a night...

To be continued...

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Next: Chapter 19

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