JOHN DARLING'S COMA By Donny Mumford

JOHN DARLING'S COMA

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

John pulls into the awful Crossway Restaurant's parking lot at the same time Dickie is parking his Monte Carlo. John, Andy, and Dickie meet near the front door, and, smiling, they all take off their cowboy hats and hold them while doing guy hugs and quick kisses with one another. Dickie mumbled, "I hope that was okay, Johnny. I'm still getting used to kissing a guy, but Andy's a great teacher, and he says it's what gay friends do. Ya know, when I was Gary's boyfriend, we never kissed."

Putting his hat back on, John doesn't mention how Gary seems to like kissing him. Instead, he says, "Andy's taught me how to be a proper gay friend, too."

Andy murmured, "It's been my great pleasure; you both have been fabulous boyfriends to me."

Dickie says, "Thanks, Andy. After all the things you've taught me already, I've gotta say that kissing my best friend since childhood was pretty damn sweet. So, thanks for guiding me through that." Unexpectedly, Dickie almost knocks John's hat off, kissing him again, then rubbing his shoulder, seriously asking, "Everything okay with you, buddy?"

Nodding, John says, "Yes, it is, Dickie... how are you guys doing?"

Andy says, "We're almost too good to be true, but we're worried about you being left alone most of the past ten days. Right, Dickie?"

"Yes, John, I've been a hard ass about not letting Andy spend much time with you because he and I were still bonding as boyfriends. It was going really well for us, but I could see how passionate you still were for Andy, so I had to limit how much exposure you could have with him alone."

"Whaat?'

Andy says, "Dickie made the tough adult decision to limit your accessibility to me, knowing I'm a softie and that you could talk me into having sex with you."

John frowns, and again mutters, "What?"

Dickie gets the three of them to start walking inside the restaurant, saying, "But now, Johhny, Andy, and I are really tight, and I feel confident he'll be true to me no matter how much begging you do for him to have sex with you, so we can all do stuff together again! Like this dinner that we readily agreed to do with you. I hope that makes you happy, bro."

"Uh-huh... happier than a sex maniac with two penises. I'll overlook that you're grossly exaggerating my horniness for Andy, who is probably hornier for me than the other way around, but never mind that. And it's okay that you want to make it seem as if you're doing me some ginormous favor by letting me buy you guys dinner here at this awful Crossways Restaurant that I only chose because you like it so much, Dickie."

Andy says, "Do I detect a smidgen of sarcasm in all that, Johnny?"

"Only if you consider a smidgen as the amount of water flowing over Niagra Falls every minute."

Laughing, Andy mutters, "Oh, don't be like that, Darling. We love you, and now we'll all be doing stuff together again, which Dickie and I are so happy about!"

Dickie says, "Yes, and if you'd rather me pay for dinner, consider it done even though you invited us. So, if I paid for dinner tonight would that make you feel better, best buddy ever?"

Before John can answer, Dickie says to the large-ass woman at the reception desk, "Table for three, please."

It's Sunday night, and that can be a busy time for diners eating out, but the lady picks up three oversized menus and says, "Just one minute while the busboys set up a table."

Dickie nods, "No problem," and John says to Dickie. "You know what? Yes, you paying for dinner would be awesome. Thanks for offering! As far as me being sarcastic, I was trying for ironic, um, you know, trying to be funny. I don't do funny very well, though. Since you didn't laugh, I'll apologize to you both for my sarcasm. And Dickie, about what you said a minute ago; yes, it makes me happy I can be with you guys again. I should have simply said that in the first place."

The reception desk lady has waited patiently for the guys to stop bickering, then smiles and asks, "Okay, the table is ready, but should I sit you at three separate tables?"

Nobody says anything, so the fat-ass receptionist goes, "Haha, like your pretty friend here," nodding at John, "I'm trying to be funny and, from the look on your faces, failing at that. Haha! This way, please."

They get seated, the menus are dropped on the table, and she stomps off as Andy brightly says, "This is so nice!"

Dickie and Andy take turns telling John everything they've been up to the past ten days, doing that with lots of silly girlie giggling and affectionate touching between them. John realizes that he and Andy at times acted like that, too, so he isn't overly critical, although when he's not participating in it, that behavior does tend to get on one's nerves.

Yeah, it's weird to watch Dickie imitate Andy's swishy, lisping, very girlie behavior. John has done a lot of that, too, and it's kind of freakishly fun for a while, but he makes a note in his brain to avoid doing anything like that when with Gary.

Still, Dickie and Andy are having a very good time, so John smiles and tries not to be a wet blanket, thinking, 'I'm not missing too much by not doing stuff with these two.'

Yeah, thank God no one ordered cocktails because how crazy could it have been if they were half in the bag acting silly and girlie-goofy?

None of John's thoughts meant he liked either of them any less, though. He loves both of them as friends, and after a while, they run out of silliness and are more normal while eating dinner. Dickie and John talking about the job they'd be working at tomorrow, Dickie explaining to Andy how well the car detailing side of the business has taken off because of John, and blah, blah, blah...

There was no sexual tension at all because George had fucked John a few hours ago, and even though it wasn't particularly a hot fuck, it was all John needed to be sexually satisfied for now. After the three friends finished dessert, their waitress plopped the bill on the table, mumbling to no one in particular, "Whenever you're ready," and walked away.

Andy's looking at his fingernails as Dickie looks at the bill curiously as if he'd never seen one before. Dickie grins and finally says, "I was only kidding about picking up the check, Johnny. You invited us, so..."

John, who already had his credit card out, said, "Yep, you're right," and put his credit card on the bill.

Outside, they do the hug and kiss thing again, Andy holding onto John an extra couple of seconds, murmuring, "You're working Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, but do you want to do lunch on Thursday?"

John nods, then adds, "Sure, and then Friday night, I'll be with Gary. I'm excited about that."

Backing away, Andy says, "Oh, uh-huh, Dickie and I will be away this weekend, too. He can't get enough of us sleeping together."

Faking a smile, John mutters, "Have fun," and he slaps hands with Dickie, mumbling, "See you bright and early tomorrow morning, boss," and then walks to his pickup truck, thinking, 'Being with those guys tonight, I noticed something striking. They were acting like silly gay boys while I felt mature for the first time since coming out of my coma. Mature, as in acting my age, anyway. In fact, taking that further, I've been acting much more mature, closer to appropriate behavior for my age since breaking up with Andy. Or, more accurately, since he dumped me for Dickie, who is now acting more like me than... well, never mind.'

That is what he thought about as he drove back to the apartment, becoming more and more convinced that he's been responding and reacting to situations more like a twenty-one, almost twenty-two-year-old guy than he has since coming out of his coma. An example of that is how he isn't going to tell those guys, or Gary for that matter, about his charitable deal for Paul Sullivan.

Yes, he mentally pats himself on the back for how he's helped Paul and Paul's aunt, but he's not looking for a pat on the back from anyone else. That's an adult way of handling it or close enough to the proper way that any differences hardly matter.

Parking at the apartment's parking space, John gets out of his truck, saying out loud, "And, no, I'm definitely NOT looking for a fourteen-year-old buddy. I helped Paul because he reminded me of myself at that age, and nobody helped me."

He feels like a hero doing that monetary gesture for Paul and his aunt, but that's the end of it. Well, he's expecting Sara McCarty, his attorney, to infer he's an asshole for giving away a hundred and fifty thousand dollars to strangers. Haha, she probably feels he should give it to her.

He's not thinking about any of that Monday morning when he's talking with Gary on the phone, telling him about dinner last night with Dickie and Andy. "I'm not being critical of those guys, Gary, but I, ah, well, I felt like the adult in the room most of the night. Do you know what I mean?"

"Not really, pretty boy. You can be, um, youngish-acting and very, ah, un-adult-like yourself at times."

John nods, not that Gary can know that, and says, "Yeah, I know I used to do that, but not since you let me be your boyfriend, right?"

"First of all, I didn't 'LET' you be my boyfriend, Darling. Christ! It's more as if 'I TALKED YOU INTO IT' because I wanted you to be my boyfriend. It's an honor having you as my boyfriend, but regarding your maturity level, uh-huh, I do agree that it's picked up seriously since I first met you. I'm not taking credit for that; it's been all you, but, yeah, ah, in that regard, Andy was a bad influence on you."

John says, "No, he wasn't. He was my hero who took care of me when I first came out of my coma, but I guess he babied me too much. I admit that, but I loved being taken care of and babied, so I began acting like a baby... sort of, haha. It was as much my fault as his. Anyway, under your influence, I feel much better about myself. I really, really want to be with you, Gary."

"Haha, that right there, that 'really, really, was borderline immature, but I want to be with you, too. Anyway, this was a good talk, John, but I've got to meet my fellow students in the lobby now. Say hi to Dickie for me this morning, Mr. Marshall too, if you see him. You're doing awesome, John! I hope to talk to you tomorrow morning." Click...

John's still in bed. Closing his cell phone, he smiles because Gary makes him feel good. Listening to Gary's voice gives John a boner, and again, John wonders why it is he's so infatuated with fat Gary Thomas. Whatever the reason, the fact is that he is very much taken by Gary, though, and there's no denying that. Plus, he's getting more infatuated by the day, still without being sure why that is.

Thinking about Gary hugging him against his fat side makes John shiver with arousal, so his fist goes under the covers and around his dick, and he does a tight jerk-off, his hand a blur going up and down on his iron pole.

In less than a minute, John was picturing the fattest dildo ever up his ass with Gary's fat cock looking hard and slippery, bobbing up and down as he unscrewed that fat dildo and, "Ahh, ooh, oooh!" John's climax exploded. He shakes and moans as cum drips down from the top sheet onto his leg. "Oooh, man," John moans and takes in a gasping inhale, then lets it out in a burst with a spray of saliva.

He lay there for a minute, then rolled out of bed and stripped the sheets. With a pleasant smile on his face, thinking about Gary, John made up the bed with clean sheets and then did his exercises.

Breathing hard, finishing each exercise exactly as Gary demonstrated they should be done, John starts his bathroom ritual by taking a shit, then a shower, and, without thinking too much about it, the next thing, etc., etc.

Dressed in clean but old jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie sweatshirt over a black T-shirt, he combed his hair to the side instead of how Mac Jones combed it, which was to the front with bangs combed up. Someone told him that was a hairstyle for a nine-year-old schoolboy.

Somewhat grudgingly satisfied with how he looked, John put on one of Gary's jackets instead of his own because he liked wearing Gary's clothes, then went down in the elevator and out to his pickup.

"I feel so strangely good!" John said out loud, and then drove to work, thinking, 'I included the word 'strangely' because I've rarely felt this good, so it's strange for me to day after day feel so good. Somehow, it's Gary who is making me feel good about myself. Well, it's more as if I want to impress Gary, so I'm doing things that make me feel better about myself... Something like that."

He stops at Dunkin' for coffee and donuts for Dickie and himself, then gets to work fifteen minutes before seven. He's halfway through his coffee when Dickie comes in and says, "My fucking alarm didn't go off, or maybe I forgot to set it because Andy was all over me in bed last night. Thanks for the coffee, Johnny. Um, I didn't mean to say that stuff about Andy being all... whatever. I hate being late for work or late for anything!"

John swallows the last bite of his second strawberry-frosted donut and says, "No problem." Then he looks around, not seeing anyone near, so he grins and gives Dickie a kiss on the cheek and says, "Good morning! I really liked your kiss last night, Dickie. We could have been doing that for years if we weren't afraid to be honest with one another about... you know."

Dickie grins, "Yeah, I know. Damn. Hey, I liked kissing you better than kissing Andy. Isn't that crazy?"

They grin at one another, Dickie saying, "Maybe someday it might be you and..." and Walter walks in, saying much too loudly in his cracking old man's voice, "It warms my old heart to see my employee doing what I want by getting here early, but instead of getting to work, I find he's wasting time brown-nosing with the boss."

Dickie says, "Good morning, Walter. I need to talk to you about the Ford that you..."

Walter interrupts, "Excuse me for a second, Dickie," and points at John, saying, "I want you to get over to the small garage and start in on 'detailing' the Jeep. The owner wants it back by eight-thirty. And then I have a bone to pick with you about the Chevy you detailed last Wednesday."

Nodding, John mutters, "Okay," then, "See you at lunch, Dickie," and he leaves to let Dickie finish talking to Walter.

Even with Walter being the same old pain in the ass he always is, John had an okay three days of work this week; he is still the gopher getting everyone's morning break. He and Dickie have lunch together, and then, except for Monday, Dickie and he had the after-work two beers at the Campus Bar. The bartender, Linda, starts pouring drafts for them when she sees them walking in... Cue the theme song for the vintage, nineties TV show, "Cheers"... "Everybody Knows Your Name..."

Monday at lunch, while waiting for his and Dickie's orders to be prepared at the food truck, John called Sara at McCarty at the McCarty law offices and outlined what he wanted to do for Paul and his aunt. Sara hesitated doing it, and finally insisted John had to meet her at the office after work. So, he did miss the two beers with Dickie after work on Monday, meeting with Sara McCarty instead. She hugged and kissed him, then did small talk for ten minutes, then it was an hour's tug-of-war with Sara until John got her to agree to do what he wanted for Paul and his aunt.

"Sara, this is my money, correct?"

"Yes, but I feel a fiduciary responsibility to advise you properly, and this seems frivolous in the extreme and blah, blah, blah..." John said, "I appreciate that, Sara, but you're not my investment advisor; you're my attorney, and I'm asking you, after listening to your advice on this matter, to do what I want. I expect to pay you for your service."

She stares at him, then asks, "Who have you been talking to? You seem, um, different."

John asks, "More mature, perhaps?"

She chuckles, "More something, John. Okay, but before I call this kid's aunt, I need authorization forms signed by you and blah, blah, blah..." So John finally got it done, but it wasn't easy.

When he got home from the law office on Monday, he did his weightlifting, as he was doing every day, but only jogging one or two days per week. Usually, he'd jog three or four miles on either Thursday or Friday, then Saturday or Sunday.

He stayed in the apartment for dinner Monday and Tuesday, but Wednesday after work, he had two beers with Dickie; then, while driving home, he called Andy, and they finalized plans to have lunch together Thursday.

Ending the call, John nodded to himself, admitting that Andy's voice got him aroused. He said to himself, "Well, Andy was fucking me two and sometimes three times a day for a couple of months, so, yeah, it gets my juices flowing hearing his voice."

Yeah, that much good sex with one person is not something anyone would be able to just forget. However, John isn't about to suggest or nag Andy for sex. Not after what Dickie said last Sunday at dinner. Parking in the apartment's lot, John says out loud to himself, "Should I call George? And what the fuck is George's last name? Huh, I don't think he's ever mentioned it."

Walking into the apartment building, he thinks, 'Do I really want to get fucked in that shed again?'

He's jerked off every day, telling himself he doesn't need to get fucked, but he's lying to himself. By now, John's crawling the walls horny, pretending he's not horny until he figures he'd better do something sexy with somebody before meeting with Andy. What the hell? He's shown excellent willpower by going four days with only jerk-offs to satisfy his craving for sex with someone. How to best go about this, though?

"Damnit, why did I blow off Clarence last week?" John asks himself out loud. Then he pictures Clarence's pitch-black face with his cute facial features, which are not African at all. Not that there's anything wrong with African facial features. Jeez, Clarence's ancestry is probably interesting while being horribly unfortunate at the same time. That thought makes him think of slavery and slave masters, his eyes stinging at the very thought of slavery in America only a couple hundred years ago. Sincerely emotional about it, John muttered out loud, "Fuck!" and now he wanted to be with Clarence.

"Why is that?" he asked himself, but could only answer, "I don't know," as he wiped his eyes and looked up Clarence's phone number. He sees Clarence's phone call the other day but doesn't feel brave enough to call him, not after blowing him off the way he did.

He texts instead: 'Clarence, I was under the influence of a powerful ignorance drug when I last spoke with you on the phone. My head has cleared now, and I'd very much like to share my body with your super-hot one. Whaddaya say... give me another chance, please?'

He stared at his phone but got no return text. The more he thought about Clarence, the more he wanted to have sex with him, and he hoped Clarence had the same BO as the last time. Clarence and his white boyfriend, Dennis Morning, are both into natural body odor, allowing bacteria to break down all the sweat from their apocrine glands it wants to break down, and the resulting BO is good.

Well, not really.

After two minutes, John mutters, "Balls," and thinks, 'Well, George was pretty good, so the shed isn't that bad and..." Then he thinks, 'Wait! Gerry Spelling! The guy from the photoshop!'

Yes, the community college kid. Squinting, he sees Gerry's dark blue eyes, messy, longish hair, and slim body. Gerry's as tall as John, and he has that very nice six-inch penis, too. Oh, boy, and he likes to make out! No BO, and great lips for making out. Not only that, but John liked sucking Gerry's cock. Well, he likes sucking cock, period, so...

He says, "Yeah, but it's more complicated hooking up with Gerry than George. George is a good ten-minute meet, greet and fuck, and thank you very much. Ciao! And that's that.

It's that damn shed and the ride-on mower that makes George a less attractive alternative. Damn, he wishes he had thought of Gerry before texting Clarence. Both Gerry AND Clarence are more of an ordeal than George, but they're both more desirable, too. Are they worth the extra effort, though?

Oh, his phone dings! It's a text from Clarence, 'Sorry to hear you're buying bad drugs, Darling. I'm not buying bad bullshit, though, so GFY.'

Go fuck yourself, huh? He mutters, "Did I deserve that?" And then texts, 'Do I deserve that, Clarence? Really?"

Clarence texts, 'Nah, I was too harsh, you didn't deserve that, Darling, but I can't get away tonight. Sorry. Let's leave it open for a rain check, okay?'

'Yes, a rain check. Good! TTYL'

He mutters, "Perfect conclusion to that," and he looks up Gerry's number and calls him. Gerry answers, "Hi, John Darling! Bro, I haven't got lucky since getting lucky with you a week ago. Um, oh, you're not calling because you found something wrong with the artwork, I hope."

John laughs, "Nope, I was thinking how sorry I am that I couldn't get together at night with you last week, but can we do that tonight?"

"How about right now? I'm bored in my room, contemplating playing with myself."

John knows that Gerry means his room in his mother's house, so they probably can't meet there, but he asks anyway, "Could I come over there, Gerry?"

Gerry says, "Yeah, that would be great. Mom works at the mall until nine tonight. Come over right now. I was going to change my bedding, but I'll wait to do that after I fuck you a couple of times... heh-heh."

Wow, Gerry has the perfect mixture of over-confidence, bossiness, and frivolousness. Gerry does not take himself very seriously, which is perfect. John asks, "What's the address, Gerry, and do you have condoms?"

Gerry has condoms, and hearing the address, John isn't sure where that is but doesn't ask for directions. His pickup has GPS! He tells Gerry, "I need to do something first, but I'll be there in half an hour."

He needs to do weightlifting today. Grunting and groaning doing each lift with the additional weights he added last time, John concentrates on doing the lifting properly and is sweating bullets by the time he's done. In the bathroom, he weighs himself and goes, "Holy shit!" when he sees 160 on the scale.

Man, he feels strong and macho... a hundred a sixty pounds! With his shirt off, he's washing his torso and underarms, muttering, "Swell, I'm a macho man with a fat waist. I can barely button my freaking jeans!

He dries off and rubs on underarm deodorant, realizing he's hungry. First, though, before dinner, some oral and anal sex with an okay-looking, semi-sexy twenty-one-year-old guy. In the bedroom, pulling on one of Gary's t-shirts, John asks out loud, "How did I get this lucky to have these great side sex buddies?"

Instead of his girlie panties, John puts on a pair of Gary's jockey underpants. The waist isn't tight, but it holds and is more comfortable than the too-small waistband on all his girlie underwear. He thinks, 'Hmm, maybe Gary's jeans, too.'

He finds jeans in one of Gary's bureau drawers. Holding the jeans up, John sees they have wide legs, and he wears skinny-legged jeans, but... what the fuck? Stepping into the jeans, the waist is a little big, but it would be okay, except the legs are too short. John's a couple of inches taller than Gary.

Taking off the jeans, John mutters, "Fuck," and pulls on a clean pair of his skinny jeans, then struggles mightily buttoning the waist. It's uncomfortably tight, so he struggles to unbutton the waist, letting the zipper keep the waist from opening. "Damn, I'm getting fat... heh, heh. It'll turn to muscles, I guess, but I need a new waistline for all my pants. Balls!"

He combs his hair, then gets the hair tonic he saw in Gary's medicine cabinet. Maybe it's used for Gary's flattop, but John used it to flatten the hair that's grown out over the tops of his ears, his hair looking neater this way. Shrugging at that, he puts more hair tonic on the bangs to keep them combed to the side. His light blond hair looks goofy because it's different lengths on different parts of his head. He mutters, "Fuck it," puts on Gary's hoodie and leaves the apartment.

Punching Gerry's home address into the pickup truck's GPS, he follows its directions and twelve minutes later pulls up to a small single home circa the 1970s painted a seriously faded pastel green with what were probably once dark green shutters that are now more a dirty gray color than dark green. Or maybe they were originally dark gray...

The homes on this street have no garages, so there are many older cars parked along the street. John needs to park a block away, then he walks back to Gerry's house, noticing Gerry's old Volkswagen Microbus parked on a side street. At the house, he goes up the short, cracked cement front walk and rings the doorbell. Gerry answers the door enthusiastically, saying, "Darling! C'mon in; nice to see you again."

John goes inside the house, which feels like it's a hundred degrees in there. He follows Gerry, who says, "We'll go up to my bedroom. Excuse the mess the house is in; neither Ma nor I is much into housecleaning, and I know it's too hot in here, but Ma has a thing for heat. She says it's good for her arthritis."

The hot temperature is probably the reason Gerry only has on boxer underwear, nothing else! John raises his eyebrows noticing that Gerry's ass is the perfect bubble butt ass you hear about. He's slim like John used to be, and he's John's height too. He has dark hair in a nothing-special normal guy's haircut. It's the kind of haircut a lady barber gives guys who don't give specific instructions for how they'd like it cut.

Nice, slim V-shaped body torso on Gerry... slim at the waist, and his torso gets wider, going up to fairly wide shoulders. Gerry turns around at the door to his bedroom, grins, and says, "As a heads up... my bedroom is a serious mess." There's perspiration on his forehead as he adds, "I'm doing homework for Community College. Statistics. I can't think of statistics that I can write about that are different, cool, and interesting?"

His naked torso is hairless, which used to be John's preference until just recently when Gary's hairy chest turned John on. Gerry's cute in a grownup way, meaning he isn't boy-cute. I suppose 'good-looking' is a better description for him. Most notable are Gerry's big, dark blue eyes and dimples when he grins, which is often.

John says, "Well, statistics about the Universe are always mind-blowing, and along that line, big numbers are cool to fuck around with, too. For instance, a million is a thousand times a thousand. A billion is a thousand times a million, and a trillion is a thousand billion. You'd be surprised at how many people don't know that."

Gerry says, "What else?"

"Well, this is the fun shit I was referring to. It's like this: one million seconds is eleven and a half days. One million pennies on top of each other is a mile high. Then, to demonstrate how much more a billion is than a million, a billion seconds is almost thirty-two YEARS! So, a million seconds are eleven and a half days against almost thirty-two years. AND one trillion seconds is thirty-one THOUSAND YEARS! That is some interesting shit, and there are other mind-blowing examples of large numbers you can fuck around with."

Gerry frowns, "How the fuck do you know all that off the top of your head? That's what interests me."

Leaning against the bedroom doorjamb, John shrugs, "I'm good at school stuff. Stuff I studied or had to memorize for school. Middle school, high school, three years of college... I never forget stuff, but I'm not good at regular life. Getting better at it, but still pretty bad at making proper decisions and shit like that."

Gerry shrugs, "That's some crazy shit right there. Tell me again, slowly, all the number stuff."

John sits on Gerry's unmade bed and tells him again what he said a minute ago. Gerry types it into his computer, asking, "You're sure of all this,

right? I'm gonna look like a huge asshole if you just made this all up. Haha, ya know?"

Done with that, Gerry gets up and, grinning, pushes John back on the bed, holding his arms out with a hand on each of John's wrists, saying, "You'd make a great boyfriend! You're cutter than shit and smart as a whip."

John says, "I'm not smart; I never think anything new up. I'm just good at remembering what other people have thought up."

Gerry mutters, "That's close enough to smart to impress me." Grinning, his dimples making him look cute, Gerry asks, "Do you wanna get undressed?" Then he kisses John on the mouth and asks, "Are you still wearing girlie panties? I thought that was so super sexy. Plus, your shaved pubes... so cool!."

Shaking his head, John mutters, "Tonight, I'm wearing my boyfriend's boxer shorts. They're almost too big at the waist. I'm getting too fat for the girlie panties."

"Too fat? You?" Gerry lets go of John's wrists and gropes his waist, mumbling, "Holy shit! You do have some baby fat around your waist."

Gerry steps back, taking his hands off John, who sits up and pulls his shirt off over his head, smirking and pushing his stomach out, muttering, That's not baby fat, Gerry. I'm purposely eating myself into obesity."

Sitting next to John on the bed, Gerry puts his arm around John and asks, "And why the fuck would you want to do that? You're cuter than a basket full of kittens as it is. Why change?"

John explains how he's exercising and lifting weights, also jogging in hopes of turning the extra weight into muscle and thereby getting a tougher body. A sexier body to impress his boyfriend.

"If your boyfriend isn't impressed with you already, fuck him! Haha, you're primo boyfriend material right now, and if I didn't already have a boyfriend I loved, you'd be my number one boyfriend priority. I'd be stalking you day and night."

John chuckles, "Jeez, you're so correct about all of that, Gerry. Hahaha, I rarely meet anyone as perceptive as you."

"Yeah, well enough chit-chat. Let me help you get your pants off."

They joke around getting the rest of John's clothes off, including his socks, and then Gerry drops his underpants and pushes John onto the bed backward with him on top of John's naked body.

John scrunches his face, moaning, "Oh God, your naked body feels so good."

Sounding out of breath, Gerry murmurs, "Pull your legs back." John does that and feels the hard head of Gerry's hard cock leaking precum. Grunting, "Sorry, but I can't control my, um..." Gerry humps the head of his boner in past John's tight anus lips. Startled, John holds his breath but two seconds later bursts out, Ow!" then, "That hurt like a..."

Gerry, with only the throbbing head of his hard dick inside John's rectum, the head feeling tight with sparkling sensations vibrating off of it, closes his eyes to collect himself, then grunts, "Are you okay? I never fuck without a condom, but you... I don't know. Can I go on?"

"Oh. man! Wow, that was something, Gerry. It's been a while taking a bare boner without lube."

Yeah, "Me two, but it feels fantastic now; don't ya think?"

John is able to relax now that his tight anus quickly becomes used to the nice-sized boner intrusion. "Whew, yeah, go ahead, Gerry, it's feeling better and better by the second."

Without hesitating, Gerry steadily pushes the rest of his hard six-inch cock up John's ass, then leans tightly against his buttocks, and quietly moans, "Mmmm," and then pulls his boner back and immediately humps it back in, and then its fast, hard, three-inch thrusting, Gerry's crotch smacking off John's buttocks with every thrust, "Slap, slap, slap," for a sweaty, but sexually delicious two minutes.

Both young men are sweating in the too-hot house, the heat and sweating seemingly adding to the sexuality, but only for two minutes because John's climax, which began building from the first thrust, quickly built to this two-minute crescendo making him gasp for breath and then squeal like a sweaty girl stepping on a snake with bare feet as John climaxed, blowing his load of hot creamy cum against Gerry's hairless chest, a spray of cum coming back on John as another squirt of cum hits Gerry's left tit. Dizzy with sexual pleasure, John squirms and humps his hips hoping for more, but there is no more.

Meanwhile, Gerry isn't far behind; breathy noisily, sweat dripping off his forehead, he smacks John's ass and humps into him one last time, biting his tongue as his climax erupts with startling force, coating John's bowels with creamy warm gooey sperm, some of the little fuckers racing to be the first to fertilize an egg, bouncing into a turd and dying instead.

All Gerry knows is that that orgasm felt better than anything that's happened to him since the last time he fucked John Darling Junior. Neither John nor Gerry is getting a lot of sex lately; John is getting slightly more than Gerry, but still, it's lacking...

Pulling his sloppy penis out of Joh's ass, Gerry mutters, "Goddamn, bro, I never do barebacking because it's dangerous, but... I'm sorry. Are you okay? I lost it, bro! You're too, um, desirable for the likes of me. I'm Joe Average, and you're top shelf, dude..."

"What?" John's shivering with pleasure. He loves a hard penis in his mouth or in his rectum, not that there's anything wrong with that.

Gerry says, "C'mon, bud, let's wash up and then have a shot of liquor in honor of our hot climaxes. Jesus! That was special, um, out of control but still special." Standing, he's pulling John up off the bed by the hands, adding, " Didn't you think that was special?"

John stands, nodding, "Yeah, but you better give me a tissue or something. That felt like a lot of cum you shot up my ass, and it'll all be coming out onto, um, onto me and whatever."

"Oh, sure! For now, though, hold your hand back there and come with me to the bathroom."

Wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, John presses his other hand against his opened-up anus, feeling Gerry's sperm drooling out. In the bathroom, Gerry rolls off a wad of toilet paper, muttering, "We don't have tissues," and hands the wad of toilet paper to John, adding, "Use this, John. Toilet paper is the same as tissues in a roll. Same shit, no pun intended."

John's wiping his ass with the wad of toilet paper, mumbling, "Good thing you said that no pun was intended because that wasn't a pun, plus you're incorrect, too. Toilet paper and facial tissues like Kleenex are not the same."

He drops the toilet paper in the toilet and rolls off more toilet paper, adding, "Okay, yes, both are made from paper pulp, and both are meant to be discarded after one use, but tissues like Kleenex are processed with a smoother surface than toilet paper and often are impregnated with lotion and scent as well."

Gerry wipes his flaccid penis with a warm/wet washcloth, then turns off the sink faucets and says, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that dissertation about toilet paper and Kleenex."

Dropping the second wad of cum-soaked toilet paper in the toilet, John shrugs, saying, "I don't blame you. That's something I researched for a ninth-grade paper I wrote in hygiene class titled, 'No, It's Not The same!' and included comparisons between Coke and Pepsi and..." Gerry goes, "I'm assuming this is a funny bit you come up with whenever normal small talk is awkwardly not happening, but I'm going to think up some small talk now. Um, and I may need more than one shot of Tequila."

Grinning, John follows Gerry back to the bedroom, mumbling, "Yeah, well, my bizarre memories are more interesting than small talk, and you learn something, too. But am I correct in assuming you do not want to know the difference between candies like Necco Wafers and Life Savers?"

Putting on the boxer shorts he had on when John arrived, Gerry says, "Perhaps later you could send me the differences in a text. For now, Ma keeps it so hot in here; your underwear is all you need, John."

As John nods and pulls on Gary's underpants, Gerry asks, "Do you like Don Julio Tequila? It's the only booze Ma keeps in the house."

Shrugging, John says, "I'm not much of a drinker, Gerry. I've never had any kind of Tequila, but Don Julio is probably as good as any. Does it burn going down?"

Going downstairs, Gerry chuckles and mutters, "Well, yeah. Duh!"

In the kitchen, he gets the brown bottle of Don Julio Tequila from the cabinet over the sink and then two juice glasses, "Ma doesn't have shot glasses." He pours an inch of tequila into each glass, hands one to John, taps John's glass with his, and says, "To that great fuck we just had," and swallows the tequila in one swallow.

John tries to do the same thing but choaks, eyes seriously tearing; much more sweat breaks out on his face as he luckily is right in front of the sink where he blows out most of the tequila, gagging and coughing. Frowning, Gerry pours another inch or so of tequila into his juice glass, asking, "Do you want another shot, John?"

Shaking his head, hacking up a lunger that he spits in the sink, John turns on the faucet and mutters, "Not right now, thanks."

Grinning, Gerry flashes down his second ounce or so of tequila, then says, "Goddamn, that's good."

John's eyes are still tearing, but not from an emotional episode. He fills his glass with water and gulps the whole juice glass of water in three swallows, then says, "Okay, I'll try it now."

Making a face like, 'Well, look at you!' Gerry pours tequila into John's juice glass, murmuring, "He's no pussy," then pours a third shot for himself. They tap glasses, and both swallow the tequila in one big gulp. John's eyes start running again, and he's making a face, muttering, "Fucking ghastly, but he keeps the liquor down."

Gerry puts the bottle under the sink faucet and pours in a couple of ounces of water, puts the cap on the bottle, and puts the bottle away, saying, "That showed me the type of guy you are, Darling. I'm impressed. Most guys would wimp out after the first unpleasant experience they had with tequila. Maybe you could write a paper comparing various tequilas."

"And maybe I won't do that," and John wipes more sweat off his face, leaning against Gerry as he does with all his sex partners. Gerry's no different than the others, putting his arm across John's sweating shoulders. They grin into one another's eyes, and Gerry kisses John, murmuring, "I've decided that you're much too good for me, but I'm not turning down all I can get," and they get into a nice make-out.

Even though it is sexy hot, as Gerry has great lips for kissing, John's holding back a little thinking about being with Gary on Friday. It surprised him that he held back because Gerry's an attractive sex buddy and obviously is enamored of John. Still, John held back a little.

Breaking a kiss, then licking John's lips, Gerry murmurs, "I'm thinking of my Coast Guard boyfriend, and you're thinking of your boyfriend, but we're not doing anything wrong. We're just having a little sexual buddy sex relief without any promises or lies. Okay?"

John nods, "Uh-huh, I really like doing this with you, Gerry. You're awesome," and they make out a little, sweat making their naked bodies slippery, and they slide together, and it is too sexy to ignore. So yeah, both guys are quietly moaning with sexual arousal, their penises hard as wood again; Gerry turns John around and slides his wooden cock tightly but smoothly up John's ass again.

Yeah, twice Gerry's done what he never does, and both young men moan, "Oooh, um, yeah..." John's anus hadn't closed up entirely from the first time, plus there was some slippery cum still in John's rectum and plenty of precum from Gerry's balls, so it was an even more excellent experience the second time, and they made the most of it.

Gerry fucked John hard for almost ten minutes before John squealed and humped his hips, shooting a small streak of cum straight out, leaving him shaking and shivering with the weird impossible-to-describe pleasure that you only can experience with sexual climax. His entire body is humming for a full minute.

Sweating as if he'd run a marathon, Gerry's head is dripping sweat as he closes his eyes and murmurs, "Omigod," as his climax takes over his brain and with John still adsorbing the final smattering of climactic after effects, Gerry's fingers dig deep into John's hips as the world explodes and his cock fires out an ocean of cum that is actually less than a half an ounce but felt like an ocean...

Gerry made a screeching noise, his head on fire, and then backed up, pulling his cock from John's ass, his eyes blinking and his shoulders shuddering. He grunts, "Oh fuck. That was better than the first time. Omigod..."

John takes a deep breath, then another one, and says, "It's great sharing sex with you, Gerry. Really great," but he's thinking, 'Yeah, better than jerking off, but not as good as doing it with Andy. A little better than George in the shed but not nearly as good as Gary, but being honest, it's difficult to remember sex with Gary because we have had so little of it. Huh, that's true, so why am I so crazy about him and it?'

Not wanting to think any more about that, John looks at Gerry, who is pulling on his arm. "C'mon, let's clean up again. That was off the charts excellent, Darling. Your ass is amazing..."

John follows Gerry, asking, "How can you take this heat all the time? But, um, yeah, that was off the charts hot and sexy."

Gerry rolls off some toilet paper, mumbling, "You get used to the heat, although this is extra hot, even more so than usual. Something is fucked up with the thermostat. A guy is coming tomorrow at eleven o'clock to see what's up with that."

There isn't much cum drooling out of John's ass this time, so he joins Gerry washing at the sink, Gerry saying, "Ma will be home in forty-five minutes or so. We could smoke a joint outside if you want. I've got some pretty good pot. Or do you want to have a couple of beers at the Campus Bar a few blocks from here?"

John says, "I work only a quarter of a mile from here, Gerry. I'm always surprised how Cheyenne isn't that large, and yet it's the capital of the state. Um, no offense, though, but I need to get to bed. I've been up since five o'clock this morning, but I enjoyed the hell out of doing buddy sex with you, Gerry. Um, have you heard from your boyfriend yet?"

They're in the bedroom where John is getting dressed, and Gerry's lying in his unmade bed sweating and saying, "Nah, he's in basic training or whatever they call that in the Coast Guards. He's probably afraid someone will somehow read over his shoulder and see he's writing a letter to his boyfriend, so he hasn't sent me anything yet."

Dressed, John puts on his cowboy hat, smiles, and says, "It's been real, Gerry. Can I call you again sometime?"

Gerry stands and pats John's shoulder, "Call me any time, bro. We'll work something out. I think you're awesome," and they go downstairs. At the front door, they do a quick guy hug without a kiss. John says, "Thanks, Gerry. I'll be in touch."

Walking to his car parked a block away, John wonders if he'll ever see Gerry again. He'll be with Gary two days from now, and then four days after spending the weekend with him, Gary will be home for good. The question of why John is so immensely attracted to Gary tries sneaking into his brain, but John rejects it, muttering, "No, not now."

He wasn't lying to Gerry; he really was very tired after a long day, beginning with his short talk with Gary, then working all day, doing exercises, etc. He drives home feeling sexually satisfied, sort of. His random buddy sex isn't packing the punch it used to, and he's confused as to why that is.

Thinking about having lunch with his good friend Andy tomorrow makes his dick squirm in Gary's underpants. "That's not right!" John says out loud. Tonight was supposed to give me sexual relief for when I'm with Andy.

Driving onto the apartment building's parking lot, John wonders, "Is it Gary I'm yearning for, or is it still Andy? That can't be, can it?

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com

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