Date: Wed, 4 Jan 2012 05:28:39 -0800 (PST)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: (14) DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR

			  DYLAN'S  FRESHMAN  YEAR

				Chapter  14

			    by  Donny  Mumford

This will be my last work shift at Stop & Shop until after spring break. At
the moment I'm in our Jeep on my way to Rite Aid pharmacy, then I'll go on
to Stop & Shop.  While driving I've got two things on my mind; one, does
Alan Snyder really intend fucking me tonight, and two, am I going to
actually let him do it if he tries? That's two parts of the first thing on
my mind, the second thing on my mind is my spring break date with Willie
Worthington, which is suppose to be a five day vacation in Key West,
Florida.... some date!  First things first: it's Alan who's got my
immediate attention.  I'm wondering if my sexual experience with Philip at
the House Of Blues totally fulfills my curiosity about sex with someone
older, and will having sex with Alan tell me anything new? I mean, that was
the initial idea: see if sex with a mature, macho individual like Alan is
noticeably different than having sex with cute boys my own age. The sex I
experienced with Philip was hot while it was happening, but not something I
look back on and get a boner over. Plus, I'm not sure how much of the heat
was real; a lot of it may have been the vodka and marijuana I ingested, and
in retrospect I'd have to say that night was not a particularly memorable
experience. Certainly not one I'd want to do again. Oh sure, Philip was
very different from anyone I've had any kind of sex with before, but he
just doesn't do it for me like my gay peers do it for me. With that in
mind, why do I need to experiment further with Alan? Oh man, who am I
kidding? I know why, it's because he's sexy, that's why. I admit it's a
mystery to me why he is, but he just is.  Is it his whiskers, his abundant
body hair, his clueless misinterpretation of the world around him, what?  I
mean, body hair normally is a sexual turn-off for me, and Alan's got this
high opinion of himself which has led to his totally misreading of my
interest in him; okay, not totally, I'm intrigued, but he's not my idol
like he thinks he is.  Actually, I'm lucky he does misread me or I'd
probably get fired. And what's with Alan choosing that scabby Franklin as
his boyfriend?  Plus, he brags about Franklin being so desirable when
clearly the man's scruffy and unattractive.  Alan's judgment is
questionable, to put it mildly. Of course, I'm leaving myself exposed a
little with that 'questionable judgment' remark because I could be
criticized for thinking Alan is hot... everyone I know thinks the opposite,
or worse.

Well, here I am at Rite Aid pharmacy, it's only a half mile down from the
college. Reason I'm here?  Well, to buy condoms, of course... and that's a
pretty good indicator that I've made up my subconscious mind to allow Alan
to fuck me, so why am I still pondering it? Hmmm, I'm over-sexed, I know
that that but is it my fault? I was born this way!  Inside the pharmacy I'm
thinking, "Oh boy, buying condoms should be fun... NOT!"  Actually, I've
bought condoms here once before and it was no big deal; well, except all
the cashiers here are middle age women and they invariably look up with a
smirk on their face when they see a young guy buying condoms. Who cares
though, with a college just up the street this place probably sells a lot
of them. Rite Aid certainly isn't shy about displaying a huge selection of
condoms, and right out in the open too. Not at all like condom sales in the
dark ages... the sixties and seventies. At least that's the way they're
portrayed in movies depicting that time in the world. Oh man, so many to
choose from.  I probably should use them more often, but for now...  hmmmm,
which one should I buy? I don't see the five dollar ones Philip used on me
so how 'bout I get these latex Trojan Ecstasy, Fire and Ice, lubricated
ones.  A brand name every kid in the world knows, Trojan, and they're not
too expensive either. I grab a three-pack, the smallest quantity they have
for sale, and head for the cashier.

There will be none of that nonsense of me buying ten items I don't need
just to cover-up the condom purchase, that's been so 'overdone' in
old-time, coming of age movies from the past... it's a yawner anymore for
sure... come on, we're well into the twenty-first century! Naturally, just
as I get in line two girls my age step right behind me. Christ, it couldn't
happen that I just walk up and pay, could it? Oh no, I need to wait in line
until half the girls from Merrimack college arrive to watch me buy these
damn condoms. So, what the hell, as much as I wanted to be cool about this,
I'm slightly flustered and when it's my turn at the register I do grab a
comb and a pack of gum to sort of downplay the Trojans.  I also make an
unfortunate gulping noise in my throat as I'm putting my purchases on the
counter which attracts everyones attention. I'm frowning and royally
pissed-off that this isn't going as smoothly as I expected. The lady rings
up the comb and gum, then looks up at me as she's examines the condoms... I
glare back at her like, "Yeah, they're condoms! What about it?" as I'm
hearing snickers from the girls behind me.  I swear to god, one of these
days I'm going to kill somebody if they don't start minding their own
fuckin' business. The cashier asks, "Did ya notice the price, son, I can't
scan the barcode because it's scratched." There must be
five-fucking-thousand packages of condoms down there and I pick the one
with a scratched barcode! Looking down and reaching for the condom packet,
I mutter, "I'll get another one," she says, "No, no, wait... I've already
started ringing up your order," and she picks up a phone for the pharmacy's
address system, "Charles, price check! Aisle nine." From somewhere, I hear,
"Okay, whaddaya got?" and literally everyone in the pharmacy stops what
they're doing and stares at me... that's what it feels like anyway. The
woman at the register holds the packet of condoms up to the light, and
loudly says, "Um, let's see, it's a three-pack of lubricated Trojan Ecstasy
condoms!"  The heat rises from my neck as more snickering comes from the
girls behind me. I'm frozen in place and can't make myself turn around to
see who's doing all the snickering.  Charles is now visible as he stands in
an aisle way down from where we are; he's a man about as old as
Philip. Squinting, he peers down the long aisle at the cashier who's
holding the condom packet up.  The man strains his eyes, then yells back,
"Which Ecstasy type is it?"  Over the loud speaker, the cashier goes, "It
says, 'Fire & Rain'," and then she says to someone over my shoulder,
"Whatever that has to do with it," and there's more snickering... it's a
damn good thing we're not allowed to carry guns like you were able to in
the old west or I might have opened fire. Charles yells back, "Are they the
ribbed ones?"  and the cashier says, "Yeah, ribbed and lubricated!" At that
I actually burst out laughing myself, and so do the girls and others behind
me, this is so far over the top it's ridiculous! One of the girls pokes me
in the back, asking, "Whatcha doing later on, hot stuff?" and I do turn
around now, and hear a girls voice further back mutter, "Cute!"  The girl
who poked me is wearing a Merrimack baseball cap; she's cool enough about
it, so I decide not to kill her.  Indicating the packet on the counter,
which Charles informs the cashier is $2.99 plus tax, I go, "Oh, these?
They're for my big brother," and proceed into a series of fake
coughs. After finally paying, I'm walking out thinking, "Could that have
been a bigger pain in the ass?!"  I'm betting that those old movies about
boys buying condoms, or 'rubbers' as they were called back then, never had
a scene as blatantly absurd as the one I just suffered through.  I wonder
if that cashier does that same routine with every kid buying condoms? Hmmm,
it'll sure slow down sales if she does 'cause I'm sure as shit never buying
them there again. Wow! That was random!

It's a three minute ride from Rite Aid to Stop & Shop, so I arrive in
plenty of time to check-in and then go outside for a smoke before my shift
begins. 'Never start a shift even one second before it's scheduled to
start!'", that's the bag-boy's motto.  I'm sitting on the bench smoking,
enjoying the nicer weather that's descended upon North Andover lately, a
far cry from a few months back when snow was piled twenty feet high at some
spots on the campus parking lots. Exhaling a lot of cigarette smoke,
grinning about my hard-to-believe condom experience, when around the corner
walks Cory Dunlevy. Ah ha, with a really hot-looking short haircut; his
blond curly hair so short most of the curl is gone.  His awesome head of
hair was the first thing I notice when I met him.  It's his best feature
actually, although I discovered he has a killer smile too, one that he
rarely uses, and he also has an awesome ass that's made even more obvious
because of his diminutive stature.  The kid's so small it's hard to believe
he works here. Initially I thought Cory couldn't be a senior in high
school, but yet he is.  Not a cute kid like ya might think, him being so
small and all... plus, he's got a bit of an edge to him, especially if he
don't know you. Cory stops ten feet from me and stares hard at my
cigarette, then at me. I say, "Yo, Cory," and drop my smoke, then step on
it 'cause Cory has an aversion to cigarette smoke; some kind of health
issue. He mutters, "Thanks," nodding at the cigarette butt I'd just
squashed-out, and I go, "No problem, how's it going?" meaning his job here
at Stop & Shop. I haven't seen him since that first day a week or so
ago. He hesitates sitting down, then does, and says, "It's okay, I guess."
Not a real chatty kid.  I ask, "You getting along with Mr. Snyder,
er... Alan, okay." He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes, asking,
"You're mocking him with that 'mister' shit, aren't you?" I shrug,
muttering, "Sometimes... I don't know, I wish I never started it to be
honest with ya." He goes, "Yeah, I know what ya mean... you're sorta stuck
with it now.  Alan's been alright so far, I stay clear of him as much as
possible though because... you know." Cory offers me a piece of Juicy Fruit
gum and I take a stick as he says, "Some of the guys here are cool enough."
Chewing the gum, which is yum, I go, "Oh yeah, who?" He shrugs, then says,
"Um, I like Sara Pinter and Diana from produce the best...  and you too,"
and he pulls his eyebrows together as he said, "you too", like he's
embarrassed to admit it.  He was a real hardass the first time I met him,
but it's because he has a chip on his shoulder due to the fact he's so
small and poor, and stuff like that... that's my guess anyway. At least
he's got a mother who's working, apparently doing the best she can for Cory
and his sisters, which is unlike Connor's mother, for example; and, where
the fuck are all the fathers, anyway? I guess someone could ask the same of
Chubby and me except we know where our biological fathers are, and they
both have a good excuse for not being here.  Chubby's dad died of a brain
aneurysm when Chubby was a baby, and mine never knew about me because my
mom never told him... he's a guy in the Armed Forces who was just passing
through. Hmmm, he must have been a cute son-of-a-bitch though... heh heh.
I'm over it, I got over it a long, long time ago. I ask Cory, "If ya don't
mind me asking, where's your dad?" Cory looks right in my face, answering
matter of factly, "In jail, ten-to-fourteen years for manslaughter." Well,
I'm so frigin' happy I asked that question! I mumble, "Sorry," and he goes,
"Fuck it! Some people have it easier than others, that's all.  We're not as
bad off as some." I'm like, " I guess," as I'm thinking, "Yeah, the person
your father killed probably ain't having a very good day either," but
that's not Cory's fault.

Not being able to think of anything to say in this awkward silence, I make
a repetitive clicking sound in my mouth while nervously tapping my foot
before realizing it's uber annoying and stop, after which Cory looks over
at me, mumbling, "Thank God!" and then, "Hey, do you ever go bowling?"
Happy for a neutral topic of conversation, I say, "Yep, I've been a couple
dozen times, but not recently." He asks, "Do you do ten pins or
candlepins?"  and I'm like, "Mostly candlepins, but ten pins are fun too.
Ya wanna go sometimes?" He brightens then, almost showing his hot smile,
and says, "Sure, that's cool, yeah... um, when?"  I'm thinking that I see
what's happening here?  Cory's homophobic, probably the victim of someone's
ignorant adult influence on him, stereotyping gay people or something.  I
mean, I'm gay, although Cory doesn't know it, and he likes me, so maybe
I'll show him a gay kid can be just like him in many ways, ya know?  And,
maybe, just maybe, I'll convert one homophobe into a 'diversity'
fanatic... ha ha. Probably not, but why not try to do a good deed. I say,
"It'll need to be before Merrimack's spring break, and since I'm gonna be
home for Easter weekend, that leaves next Monday thru Thursday... one of
those days."  We compare our schedules for school and work, then settle on
next Tuesday at three o'clock for candlepin bowling at the Haverhill Lanes;
I'll pick him up. Robby's got a baseball game that day and then who knows
what he and that turd Ryan Wilcox will be up to, so I'll go bowling, what
the hell!  Cory's likable enough although he seems lonely and is usually
projecting kind of a hangdog personality.  I wonder if kids pick on him at
school... hell, they probably do 'cause he's vulnerable and teenagers can
be such awful pricks!  Good thing my friends are the exception to that
rule... ha ha. I'm in a pretty good mood, but there's just this hint of
nervousness in the back of my mind about Alan fucking me, ya know?... so
Cory's been a nice diversion. As we're walking side by side into Stop &
Shop, I ask Cory, "Ya know what the best thing about bowling is?" and Cory
says, "Yeah, you can't break anything there," and I go, "Exactly!" He does
smile this time; we bump fists and I head for the office to get my
assignment for my work shift; he goes back to work. That smile is cute with
his two front teeth just slightly longer than the others... makes him look
like a little kid, the dimples are rockin' too.

Gawking at the assignment chart I see there's an asterisk next to my name,
which is a first. Checking the notation at the bottom, to wit, "Newman to
the loading dock...." I'm guessing Alan hasn't forgotten about us working
together and that probably means I'm gonna get fucked tonight, and that
thought makes me take a deep breath and grope myself quickly. I'm trying to
make like, "No big deal," but my balls are tightening-up and I need to take
two more deep breaths... obviously it is a big deal and I'm both nervous
and excited about it.  The things I get myself into!  And, what the fuck, I
thought Alan was straight so it's not like I planned this long- range or
anything; it just happened.  No one can understand how I could have an
infatuation with Alan in the first place, and for the most part you can add
my name to that list too because I don't know why he excites me sexually
either, but he does. I don't even like him very much, and his so-called
boyfriend is distinctly unattractive on any number of fronts.  Oh fuck,
it's like Alan's my fetish, I don't get it, but there it is.  As soon as I
swing open the loading dock door and see Alan, my dick firms up and I grope
my crotch again, and get pissed-off at myself for having so little self
control around him.  He's pushing a dolly piled with boxes to the edge of
the loading dock where a Stop & Shop van is parked. Alan's body is kind of
boxy, not slim and tall like Robby's. His recently buzzed hair isn't
particularly cool either; there's no distinctive outlining with the
haircut, and his hairline is a widow's peak, which isn't good; straight
across the forehead is the coolest kind of hairline, especially for real
short hair styles. There's nothing special about his looks either, except
his complexion is clear and youthful, but that's no big surprise since he's
only twenty-one years old. On his face is ten days worth of whiskers... I
know damn well his whiskers play a part in my attraction to him, they're
curly and soft and I like them best when he's let them go for a month or
so.  Seeing Alan, I'm glad I bought the condoms, and even though I barely
like him as a person my dick doesn't care about that; it wants to bone up
and fire off some spunk. Alan looks up and motions for me to get over there
so I jog over, saying, "Hi, Mr. Snyder, we loading those boxes in the van?"
He goes, "Duh! You're brilliant, Newman!" I guess I got sort of a hurt
expression on my face because he holds up a hand, saying, "Sorry for
snapping at you, but this has been a bad start to my shift. These boxes,"
as he's pointing at the ones on the dolly, "should be at the Metheun
location, and our boxes were sent to my apartment." I frown, and ask,
"What?" Alan mutters, "By accident I put my apartment address on the
sticker for the inventory list, and Rolly is pissed-off at me now!"  I go,
"Ah, man... that's.... huh," 'cause I don't know what to say.  Rolly North
is the floor manager, Alan's boss. Alan says, "Start loading these boxes
into the van while I check on the other bag-boys 'cause some of the
retirees aren't working out and I'm gonna need to dump a few to get the
attention of the others." I'm looking at him blankly, feeling bad for the
old guys and women who shouldn't need to do this kind of work in the first
place. Alan's being officious again as he pretends to study a list on a
clipboard, then he looks up, and says to me, "There just might be a
promotion in this for you, Newman, if you keep up the good work," and he
nods at me. Not knowing what the fuck he's talking about, I mumble,
"Thanks, Mr.  Snyder."

He leaves me alone on the dock and after a second of contemplation I begin
lifting the boxes off the dolly and carrying them into the van, wondering
if he's serious about a promotion 'cause I could use the extra money.  Then
it hits me: Alan's only one step up the chain of command from me! How's he
gonna promote me, make me his peer? Oh, I'm so sure... what a crock! After
fifteen minutes of lifting I'm sweating, these boxes are heavy and it hits
me how weird it is that I'm doing this mundane work, and Alan's off doing
something with the other bag-boys while both of us are expecting that we'll
be doing gay sexual intercourse a little later. And, we hardly know each
other... so it's weird alright, and I'm feeling funny about it too, like I
don't want to do it.  I got that way for a while with Philip too, but booze
was involved then and it clouded my judgment.  What's it gonna be tonight?
Damn! My dick feels heavy and my heart's beating a little faster and so I
gotta admit I want to do it; I wish I didn't, but I do. And now I'm getting
a hardon just acknowledging that fact to myself...  oh boy am I sex crazy
or what?! Alan returns as I'm having that thought, sees I'm loading the
last carton into the van and nods his head in approval. He watches me push
the dolly back to its' spot on the loading dock, then he strips some paper
towels off a roll and motions for me to come to him. I walk over wondering
what's up now, and he says, "Stand still!" and wipes the sweat from my face
with a paper towel, then over the top of my head and down to the back of my
neck, muttering, "You perspire heavily, just like Franklin." He does
everything roughly, like he's annoyed that he needs to do it.  Then he
says, "We'll unload these boxes in the Metheun store, then drive to my
apartment to pick-up the boxes that were UPS'd there by mistake. When
they're loaded in the van we'll take a fifteen or twenty minute break and
I'll mentor you. I want to show you I'm just like anybody else, no better
and no worse.  You've got a hero-worship crush on me because you've built
me up in your mind, like I did with Franklin, and I want to help you tear
that image down some, the way Franklin helped me see him for who he is."
I'm thinking, "Why the fuck am I doing this?"

Alan sees some sweat breaking out on my forehead again so this time with
his bare hand he wipes across my forehead and then up and over the top of
my head, getting the damp hairs all standing up. The palm of his hand is
surprisingly plump and soft. For a minute or so he seems to be studying me
with that normal confused expression on his face, the one I see on him so
often. His little round wire-rimmed eyeglasses shiny with the last of
today's sunshine, then he starts talking again, "When I'm with Franklin, I
do what I'm told...  you'll do the same when you're with me. Do you have
any problem with that?"  Still shocked that I'm going to go through with
this, I wheeze out, "Na, no, Mr. Snyder." He looks around and sees no one,
then cups behind my head and pulls my face to his for one of his kisses. A
wet, very active kiss, using those incredibly sexy rosy bow-shaped lips of
his, his tongue seemingly fully inside my mouth, his whiskers covering my
chin and my nose and half my cheeks on either side of my face. His other
hand cups under my ass and almost lifts me off the loading dock. Thirty
seconds of this and my lap is tented out, my boner poking Alan's thigh.  He
backs away, seemingly unaffected by the kiss, and says, "I'm trying,
Newman, but you just don't do it for me. By the way, did you get the
condoms?" As he asks the question he's holding out his hand, as calm as you
please. Saliva's drooling all around my mouth and dripping off my chin as I
nod my head, wiping my forefinger under my nose and pulling at the front of
my pants trying to get my boner sideways in my jockey shorts. He makes a
motion with his hand, saying, "The condoms, Newman!"  My hand goes inside
my pocket to pull out the package of Trojans and pass them to him.  He's
like, "Yeah, these are okay," then reads the label, and adds, "Good,
they're lubricated.  We won't need all three though... don't get your hopes
up." I'm still puffing-out panting-bursts of air, trying to get my
breathing to come back to normal.  "Okay, get in the passenger side of the
van and use the seatbelt!" he orders as he's walking around to the driver's
side. How could that kiss not have affected him???

It's only a twelve minute ride before we're pulling into the Mutheun Stop &
Shop. Alan parks at their loading dock and we get out. He lights a Winston
100 saying, "Unload the boxes right near the door.  There doesn't seem to
be a dolly so you'll need to carry each box about twenty feet or
so... sorry 'bout that." I start unloading as Alan wanders around the side
of the building. He's a lazy SOB, but I already knew that. As I'm unloading
I ponder the oddity of human sexuality. There's not only heterosexuals,
homosexuals, but also bisexuals and something called asexuality where
neither sex attracts sexual interest for the unfortunate individuals
afflicted with that malady. Then there's preference within the first three
types: some are attracted to older sex partners, some to younger, some
prefer skinny, some full figured, redheads or dark hair, blonds and even
bald heads, and on and on and on it goes. Then there's the unlimited number
of fetishes that sexually stimulate individuals whether they're straight,
bi, or gay. Chubby has a foot fetish, Dodger has a haircut fetish, Willie
has a 'panties' fetish, although that may be just copying Larry... there
are too many fetishes to comprehend.  I don't think Robby has a special
fetish, him and me seem to be pretty much hooked on gay sex though, so
maybe that's our fetish. Anyway, it's obvious Alan prefers much older man
while I prefer boys in my peer group, which Alan basically does qualify for
because he's twenty-one, except that's the only thing he has in common with
any of the other boys I've been infatuated with. The others are slim, cute
and hot to trot with me.  Alan's none of those things, plus he's got a
hairy body and whiskers which are no-no's ninety-nine percent of the time
with me.  It's baffling as hell, but there's no sense fooling myself; I
think Alan's sexually attractive... he's hot, and I can't figure it out.

I'm pooped by the time the boxes are where they need to be. When Alan
returns I'm sitting on the edge of the loading dock, my feet dangling over
the edge as I smoke a cigarette. "Good, you're done. Here, I brought you a
canned tonic," and as Alan hands me a cold Pepsi, I'm thinking, "Canned
tonic? What the fuck...?" but gratefully chug a third of the can, the cold
sweet beverage feels good on my dry throat. "Thanks, Alan," I mumble, and
he grumpily replies, "Get in the van," very officious, as usual. He starts
up the van, explaining things to me slowly, as if I'm the dull one, "After
you've loaded the van with North Andover Stop & Shop's uniforms, we'll have
twenty minute for mentoring, at the most. We'll undress in my bedroom,
keeping everything neat! Then I'll do the mentoring in the bathroom because
your ejaculations are more easily cleaned off the tile floor than off the
carpen in my bedroom.  Please fold each item of clothing neatly, I'm an
extreme anal retentive, especially where my home, is concerned." Hmmm, I'm
thinking that anal thing sounds interesting, so I ask, "What's the anal
thing all about?" and he says, "It's about being obsessively
organized... neatness is paramount." I ask, "Um, are you talking about
sex?" and Alan's like, "Mostly I'm talking about neatness, not leaving
things disheveled." I still don't get it, but don't want to admit it, so I
go, "You sure don't sound like a high school drop out." He straightens his
back, pompously saying, "I could pass the GED test for my HSED like that,"
as he snaps his fingers, "If I wanted to, but I'm pissed-off at the system
and reject their equivalency program.  Most of my knowledge about my anal
retentiveness comes from studying on-line, especially with Wikipedia." I
go, "Huh," because much of what he just said doesn't make any fucking sense
to me, but I don't want to look like a moron for asking, and just for the
 record, I do know what Wikipedia is! He says, "We won't have much time for
foreplay, but I'll give you a few affectionate kisses and maybe finger fuck
your asshole a little bit too.  You're easily aroused as I've discovered
the few times I've mentored you." Okay, he's not using the word 'mentoring'
correctly; he means a form of sexual interaction when he says 'mentoring',
which pretty much is the whole story of my last mentor, carl, too.  Not
that I'm complaining... just saying.

We're parking at Alan's apartment complex as he's finishing his
instructions, "You'll need to give me oral sex to get me erect, although
I'm sure you'll be erect yourself almost from the start." Then he turns to
me, and asks, "By the way, what do you consider my biggest turn-on for you?
What is it about me you're most sexually excited about?" Well, I almost
burst a blood vessel leaning forward against the dashboard, turning a
guffaw into a cough, my face red, the vein at my temple ticking.  What an
idiot! Who would ask something like that? I do a follow-up cough as he pats
my pack, then say, "I really don't know, Alan... you fascinate me, that's
all I know." He squeezes my neck, smiling; then, as we're getting out of
the van, he says, "Franklin's hit the nail on the head, you're a cutie
alright.  Not our type, but I bet you've given a lot of gay boy's wet
dream...  heh heh."  He insists I load the van before we can take a break
for the mentoring, and while I'd doing the loading he goes into his
apartment to, "Make sure it's neat enough for company." Naturally, Alan
hasn't lifted a single box so I'm not sure what he's taking a 'break' from,
but he's my boss so I do what I'm told.  As I'm doing it, the thought of
him asking me about his sexiest feature turns from being ridiculous to
funny, to kind of sexy.  I mean, to me, Alan's uniqueness is part of the
attraction, even if his uniqueness might qualify as weirdness. The rest of
my interest in him might be as simple as his great lips, or hot ass, or
mature, macho ways.. they're the things intriguing me. I still don't know
for sure, but damn, he's got me wanting it... and he's not even trying;
he's hardly even interested in me. Maybe that's part of it too, he's
sincerely not interested in me sexually.  The nerve!!

The van's loaded and ready to go, but no Alan, so I light another cigarette
and check out my surroundings.  It's a fairly small, brick apartment
complex of maybe thirty units built forty or fifty years ago.  Nice
landscaping and well maintained parking lot... hee hee, I guess Alan
wouldn't have it any other way. He reappears just as I'm finishing my
smoke, "Okay, Newman, lets go on up now and I'll do the procedure." Jesus,
it's like I'm at the doctors having a blood test or something.  Everything
Alan does, no matter how stupid, has this feel of professionalism about it,
Alan's version of professionalism. There's very little humor or good
feelings, it's more like doing things by the numbers; it sure don't seem
like we're going up to his apartment to get laid. Alan's very business like
as he unlocks the door, saying, "I did a quick inspection of the bathroom
and it's in pristine condition, which is the condition I want it in again
before we leave.  Franklin doesn't relate to my anal retentive personality,
but he tolerates it just fine.  He's flexible like that, but he does prefer
his place to mine when we're into each other, if you get my drift."  His
apartment is extremely neat, but spartan as well; very few furnishings. I
keep forgetting that Alan is only twenty-one years old and works for an
hourly wage at Stop & Shop... he doesn't have much money to buy a lot of
stuff, but what he does have is antiseptic clean. As he steps out of his
footwear, he says, "Take off your sneakers, Newman, and follow me." It's a
very small apartment: living room, small kitchen and a small bedroom. The
small bathroom is off the short hallway between the small kitchen and small
bedroom. "Undress carefully and fold your things neatly on the bed.
Everything comes off." Alan begins undressing and each piece is hung on
hangers or folded incredibly neatly... I try to fold mine like Alan's doing
as I silently ask myself, for the hundredth time, "Why are you doing this?"
and I get the same answer I always get, "I don't know exactly, it's just
that Alan's hot!"

Standing in his bedroom naked, I can't take my eyes off Alan's hairy body.
I'd be humiliated if I was that hairy but Alan seems to consider it a badge
of masculinity, or maybe he just has a 'thing' for body hair.  Whatever, he
does a lot of self fondling, or if you prefer the technical terminology,
plays with himself a lot.  When he's not playing with his cock and balls
he'll rub the palm of his hand over his forearms, or over his calves when
sitting with his legs crossed. Always running his fingers through his body
hair and that should be making me want to puke, but instead I want to do it
too. There must be a mysterious combination of things that strike me just
right about Alan Snyder, and I'd love to know what they are. "Into the
bathroom now," instructs Alan, and we pad out of the bedroom and into the
bathroom buck naked, like it's the most normal thing in the world. "We have
time for a few quick mouth to mouth kisses which should loosen you up.  I
can see you're filled with excited anticipation and I'm happy for you, but
it's not healthy for a boy your age to fixate on an older man like myself
when there's no hope for a relationship between us.  It was different
between Franklin and me, but he still needed to mentor me." All of a sudden
the thought pops into my head that this can't be real, and I ask, "Do you
really mean everything you say, or are you having a little fun with me?
It's okay either way 'cause I'm intrigued with you, but I'd like to know if
this is all sort of a put on." Alan says, "You're too young to understand,
but..." and I interrupt with, "Two years, you're two years older then me;
that all... two years!" He shakes his head slowly like I just don't get it,
and says, "Yes, two years by the calendar, but in here," and he's tapping
his head, "in my brain I'm light years older than you." Now I need to give
a passing thought that he just might be crazy, except there's so many
things he does at work, and even here maintaining his own home, that would
indicate he's not. He's wildly eccentric though. I say, "Yes, Mr.  Snyder,"
because if I'm honest about it, frankly he does makes me feel much younger
than him; much more then just two years, so I'll just go along with his
timetable and see what happens.

"We all set?" he asks with a nice smile, a rare nice smile that adds so
much humanity to him, making him seem nice instead of seeming like a robot.
When he kisses he's no robot, and that's what he does now. He puts his
hairy arms around my neck and gently pulls my hairless body against his
hairy one, naked crotch to naked crotch, and his mouth covers mine for one
of his unbelievable sexy kisses. My body against Alan from head to toe with
his body hair covering the front half of my body and his whiskers
surrounding my face; it's a situation that brings lots of erectile fluid
into my penis causing an almost instant boner... a boner that stretches and
stretches as his tongue dominates my mouth and his lips suck my tongue and
my lips.  His kissing is similar to the way he'd go about eating my mouth
and everything that's in it, if that's something he wanted to do.  It's
awesomely different from what I'm used to and very sexy in it's peculiar
way, but I need to keep my eyes closed because he's not real good looking.
My arms are around his stocky square torso running up and down his sides,
my fingers on his back, every part of my arms and fingers playing in Alan's
body hair.  He once again has a slight case of BO which I believe is
because he's into 'natural' everything, no deodorants or the like. His kiss
last less than a minute but has my cock so hard I'm afraid to touch
it. When he steps back it's pointing at my chin, wet at the pee slit. Alan
reaches over and takes it in his fist, as I go, "Whoa! Oh..." He says,
"You're not shy, Newman... don't pretend to be. You told me about all the
boys you have sex with so I know you're comfortable with this or I wouldn't
have proceeded this quickly with you."  He strokes my boner a few time, the
foreskin going on and off the stiff head of my cock, then he drops it,
saying, "That's the prettiest penis I've ever seen and, like I told you
before, I like the shaved pubic area... like it on you, I mean. You're
quite special, you know? Almost a freak of nature in some ways; and I don't
mean in bad ways, Dylan."  I'm still trying to get it together from that
wildly sexy make-out when he says, "One more kiss, then you do oral sex on
me and then I'll fuck you.  We have a full fifteen minutes left on break."
I squint my eyes, thinking, "He's gotta be putting me on!"  By the time he
breaks from our last hairy make-out session I'm on the very brink of
blowing my load spontaneously, which reminds me of Willie who used to make
me do that regularly.  Who's the better make-out artist, Alan or Willie?
They're definitely the two finalist, although almost totally different in
their approach.  Robby's make-out is of course uber hot, but it's more
because I'm in love with him than his technique.

Still not even chubbed-up a little bit, Alan steps back and absently plays
with himself, saying, "That was very enjoyable, Dylan... did you notice I'm
calling you, Dylan, now?" I say, "Yes, thanks, Mr. Snyder," and he adds,
"You're welcome, I'm showing you a little love with that, huh!" and he's
raising his eyebrows like he's proud of himself for bringing it down to my
level, or who the fuck knows what he's thinking. It's almost impossible to
believe there's only two years difference between us, we simply shouldn't
be this different. He very well may be from another solar system actually,
but whatever, he's still sexy to me."  Playfully putting his arm around my
shoulders, the hair tickling, but it's becoming a familiar feeling by now,
Alan jostles me around like I'm a rag doll for ten seconds and he actually
giggles while he's doing it. His body doesn't appear to be in great shape,
but he seems quite strong and I've felt some nice definition under the
hairy exterior. As he jostles me I'm trying for a good-natured grin, but
his mild BO is floating in the air a little more now so I wrinkle my nose
while forcing my grin. He stops the jostling, and says, "Wish we had more
time so I could show you how Franklin and I goof on each other. Yes, I
said, "goof" just like you kids do." During the jostling my boner's
retreated from it's hard-as-stone condition so I stroke it a few times.
Except for a few strokes of it Alan's ignored my boner completely, as if me
having a constant boner is expected. He's pointing in front of himself now,
indicating that I should get on my knees there, "You'll do the oral sex
now. I'll be deep throating you, do you know what that is?" I get on my
knees, mumbling, "Sure, I've done it a couple of times," and Alan ruffles
my hair, shaking his head like he's amazed, muttering, "You kids are
starting younger and younger these days." That's such an incongruous remark
I blurt out a laugh, which he ignores. He holds his cock out to me saying,
"Suck on the head until it's stiff enough to go down your throat." He tells
me that as if he's instructing me how to stack the shopping carts at work.
For me I'm expecting this is to be sexy, but it seems Alan sees it more
like 'teaching'.  I don't know, but I'm starting to think Alan's naivete is
kinda likable, and this is the first time I've thought about 'liking' Alan;
up till now it's been all about how sexy I think he is.  It's been all
about a game I'm playing with him and now I'm not feeling too good about
myself for toying with him like I've been doing for the better parts of
three semesters now.

Taking his cock between my fingers I guide it into my mouth and tongue it.
There's no taste and no smell; his noticeable body odor is confined to
underarms, and it's not so strong as to be offensive.  As a matter of fact,
it adds to the overall macho-man aura of Alan... the Alan of my game; I
don't really have a handle on what the real Alan's all about.  I don't want
to feel sorry for him, although that thought is at the back of my mind.
It's important I keep the image of an older man, like Alan feels he is,
who's confidently mentoring an underling out of the goodness of his heart,
and therefore is feeling good about himself... happy he can help me
overcome my idolizing of him.  If I think of Alan like that, I'll be better
able to enjoy this unique experience on some sort of weird sexual level.
Thinking of Alan as a victim makes me feel bad for him.

Concentrating on my task of getting his dick stiff I rub it against the
inside of my cheeks and lick it with my tongue.  Alan isn't easily
stimulated but, as he's said, he's into older men not kids like me. If
Franklin were doing this Alan would probably be up on his toes moaning and
groaning with pleasure. Ain't it weird how that works?!  Alan's pubic bush
is deep making his dick look short but I feel down to the root of his
shaft, through his pubic hairs, and know it's about a five inch penis,
maybe a tad longer.  It's thick with a bulbous head, decent looking and
definitely youthful looking too; the cock of a twenty-one year old.  It's
better if I remind myself of that from time to time. As I feel his cock
begin to stiffen up, he says, "That's feeling real good, Dylan.  Nice!
Would you use your free hand to rub up and down my legs now? I like that."
So I rub his calf, the leg hairs running through my fingers feel soft and
are not really bothering me, but they're not a turn-on either. He goes,
"Not roughly, gently... begin near my crotch and ruffle the hairs lightly
down the back of my thigh, then down my calf until you rub against the
hairs on the top of my foot, then up the front of my leg all the way until
you can cup my scrotum and gently pull the hairs there, then around and
down the back of my leg again." As I'm trying to follow his instructions,
while at the same time, continuing to suck his cock, he adds, "Franklin
says I've got a huge fetish for my own hairy body, and I believe he's
right.  Oohh, that feels so good, Dylan." As soon as I begin rubbing the
hairs on his leg his cock tightens-up quickly.  Funny that he doesn't see
anything unusual about having a fetish for himself... I never heard of that
before. You'd think he'd keep that information to himself, but he seems
proud of it.  I guess we all cope with life the best we can... more power
to him.  When I've rubbed down the back of his leg and up the front, I lift
his bag of balls and then pull on a fistful of hair at the bottom; he makes
a hissing sound, then says, "Pull a little harder next time, okay?" and I
mutter around his growing cock, "Urkay", sucking his penis into a wooden
pole.

With a boner hard enough for just about anything, Alan reaches behind my
head with both hands and pulls my face against his belly... pubic hairs
cover my face as his boner plugs past my gag reflex area into my throat,
then he pulls my head against him a little more and I feel the head of his
cock go down my throat another half inch.  "Swallow a few times, if you
can, Dylan." I can't swallow very well but my throat muscles try and his
cock gets a tiny massage.  Now, keeping my nose tight against him he begins
doing little humps with his hips, fucking my throat with two inch
thrusts. I'm doing his leg rubs with both hands now and the feeling of
being totally dominated descends on me as my cock flattens up against my
belly as hard as Alan's is in my throat.  He pulls his up and out so I can
breathe, as he's muttering, "Feels good...," meaning his cock is feeling
good, and then again that fat cock goes down my throat and the little hip
thrusts follow.
 I take a hand away from Alan's leg to stroke my boner and all thoughts of
analyzing Alan are forgotten for the moment so I can concentrate on
becoming highly aroused.  When he pulls his boner out of my throat this
time, precum drools onto my tongue as his heavy cock head lays there. I can
hear Alan doing some deep breathing now, then he catches his breath, pulls
his cock from my mouth, and says, "Here, Dylan, put this on...' and passes
me a pair of handcuffs. I ask, "Are these real?" and he goes, "Sure,
they're just part of the way Franklin and I do it.  Snap them on with your
hands in front.  Here, I'll help..." and he leans over and clicks a cuff on
my left wrist.  I start to protest, but the right wrist is now
secured. "Feel helpless, Dylan?" I go, "Not really, but I don't go for this
kind of crap.  What's it called, BDSM?" He goes, "I don't think so.  I
never heard of that." He's got a bungee cord looped through the middle of
the handcuffs, asking, "Would you lean over, please?" I make a face, but go
along with him as he attaches one end of the cord to my left ankle, then
pulls the cord tight drawing both my hands back near my ankles to attach
the other bungee cord to my right ankle. As he's doing that he has a hairy
arm around my waist lowering my head to the floor. "This is what we call
the tripod fuck. I'll grip your hips and lift your head off the floor while
I'm pile driving your asshole. Okay? You comfortable?" I'm so pissed I'm
sputtering, "Comfort? What the fuck is this? Get me outta here!" Alan
chuckles, then says, "Excuse me for laughing, but you just said the exact
things I said the first time Franklin got me in this position. 'Get me
outta here' just like you. Heh heh heh."

"No kidding around, Mr. Snyder, I don't like this," and as I say the last
word he pushes something into my mouth, a ball that taste like sour
milk. "This is the ball gag Franklin and I use, but I don't mind sharing
it," as he's fastening it on with straps around the back of my head. It's
not possible to form words with this in my mouth because it's immobilized
my tongue. "You'll be fine, Dylan... relax and enjoy the ride." With my
eyes up at the top of their sockets I can see Alan rolling a condom onto
his hard cock, as he's saying, "Sorry to have to show you the way adults
fuck, but I'm hoping it'll help you see the light and you'll drop your
infatuation with adults in general, and me in particular. You need to stick
with kids your age until your mature enough to handle adult matters." He's
got a hand on each side of my waist, pulling back, lifting my head off the
floor. I've given up trying to protest as I'm craning my head to the side
looking back at Alan. He still looks calm and barely aroused which is
pissing me off!  He's got me totally dominated in this helpless position
and yet it's barely stimulating him... am I that undesirable?  Damn! The
head of his fat cock is at my anus, then it's inside me with a violent hump
and Alan slowly but steadily, pushes it all the way in.  I feel the ridges
on the condom and my cock jumps and stiffens up.  There lots of lubricant
and when he withdraws almost entirely out, then pushes back up inside me
more quickly I'm glad I have the ball gag in my mouth or I might have made
a girlie squeal.  That fucking condom is awesome. My ass is twitching and
my toes curling as he does it again quicker than last time, and then he
begins fast full humps up my ass, squeezing my sides as he pulls me into
his thrust.  The sensation in my rectum is totally erotic, and me being
hogtied now is adding to the thrill of being fucked like this.  I'd
struggled at first but now I'm docile in his hands as he hammers my ass
with that fat cock encased in a ribbed condom.  Two minutes tops, and then
I'm blowing sprays of spit around my gross ball gag as my cock shoots out a
long string of cum; it leaves with such force my pee hole is burning. That
first shot of creamy teen cum flew across my belly and chest, spraying as
it went, then splatters under my chin. My body's alive with sensation of
pleasure extending from my rectum out to all extremities, even making my
scalp tingle.  Three fast moving spurts of creamy spunk follow that first
fantastic shot and I'm squealing in my mind.  It all happened too fast for
me to acknowledge all the hot shots and then Alan climaxed right after me,
at least that's what he announced in a rather excited manner, "I'm fucking
cumming!" and that was followed by hard humps against my buttocks. Another
hard thrust with Alan keeping his crotch pressed against my ass, almost
certainly firing more cum into the condom.  Then a dozen fast humps before
he pulls out of my rectum gasping. "Ooohhh, whooooa!"

My forehead hits the floor again as he lets go of me... pulling off his
condom he strokes himself a few times. Then he says, "Surprised I got so
hot seeing you in the position Franklin usually gets me in. Interesting!"
as he's undoing the bungee cords I'm able to straighten-up, making grunting
noises around the ball gag, trying to say, "Get this vile gag out of my
mouth, asshole!" The climax I had was a serious trip to pleasure-ville, but
I'm pissed off at being hogtied and especially pissed off because of the
gag. He could have presented the idea to me ahead of time! Alan doesn't
even need a key to unlock the handcuffs, just pull the two sections of each
cuff apart; I could'a done it myself if I knew the damn things weren't
really locked. He unhooks the strap of the ball gag and I spit it out
shouting, "That really sucked, Alan! I'm pissed-off at you and I'm thinking
of complaining to Rolly!" He actually smiles, then says, "No you won't
'cause you need the job, and what happened to you calling me Mr. Snyder?
Is it gonna be 'Alan' from now on?" A light goes on in my head... who's
been jerking who's chain here? Has Alan been playin' me like I've been
playing him? But no, not entirely.There's Franklin and this neatness
fetish, whatever it was he called it, and other stuff that's for real. Tell
ya one thing though, he got me over any future interest in pursuing sex
with him, hairy or not. I say, "Yeah, it's gonna be Alan from now on." He
goes, "That's fine, just keep doing good work and no problem with
that... Alan, Mr. Snyder, whatever." I'm squeezing my ass muscles reliving
the feeling back there, not sure what to say.  Somehow I think I've been
totally outsmarted by this guy and I can't believe it.  Maybe not though,
I'll need to think about it, but I'm definitely over Alan Snyder, so he did
what he said he'd do. Dammit!  Did he 'job' me? I can't get over that. He
says, "Come on, get dressed. Break's over!" and he said it sarcastically. I
follow him into the bedroom and get dressed silently, not sure what I want
to say. After we're dressed the two of us do a complete bathroom clean-up
using Lysol Bathroom cleaner and Windex and half a roll of paper towels.
The only talking is Alan instructing me on how to clean a bathroom
properly. Contrasting the high of orgasm and the low of cleaning Alan's
toilet is like fire and water, and it happened bang, bang... good climax
one minute, scrubbing the toilet bowl the next minute.  I don't know
whether to laugh or dial 911... it's that weird.

It's unfair to infer I think Alan's dangerous just because he's a nut,
actually I felt quite safe with him the whole time, but weird-ed out as
well fer sure! And that didn't change much in the van driving back to Stop
& Shop as an odd atmosphere permeated the air the whole way. Alan's
comfortably back into his usual officious persona, and he's been that way
ever since pulling his cock out of my ass.  When he says something it's not
about the fast fuck, but instead he gives instructions again; this time for
what I'm to do with the boxes when we arrive back at the store, which I'm
not paying attention to. Instead I'm thinking that when everything is said
and done, I've pretty much satisfied my curiosity about sex with older and
more mature men. Even if Alan isn't much older, Philip certainly is, and
I've no desire to pursue this particular curiosity further.  I'm staying
with my own kind from now on: boys my age, ones who have an interest in me.
 Hell, that's kind of an important part of it, being liked by your sex
partner. Alan repeatedly told me he wasn't into me much at all, and I
believe him. Then there's Philip who couldn't get me out of his place fast
enough after fucking me, and he thought I was a call boy. Alan, Philip, and
me all had our climaxes, but I'm sure that Alan's and Philip's would have
had hotter climaxes with an older sex partner, and my climaxes would have
been hotter with a younger one.  For reasons unknown, Alan's whiskers are
still interesting, although body hair definitely is not. Maybe the whiskers
interest me because eventually they'll be part of things in my every day
life, even though right now I'm mostly involved with a bunch of baby-faced
gay boys, and liking it that way.  And another thing that might come from
this experience... perhaps I'll find I enjoy having sex with Robby even
more now that I know I'm not missing a thing with older more mature dudes;
hell, the older dudes aren't even as good, as far as I'm concerned... so I
can stop wondering about it.  Robby's my main man and maybe it'll turn out
that Willie will be my fuck buddy on the side, like Ryan Wilcox has become
for Robby... probably not, but we'll see.  Willie sure knows how to
pleasure his sex buddy, I know that for a fact.  So, my current frame of
mind is to forget about the older guys entirely and let myself go with the
flow where Robby and Willie are concerned. I'm surprisingly upbeat
considering the quick weird fuck from Alan, but am I disappointed? I don't
think so, and it's far less complicated now that I'm more or less over my
intrigue with him... and Philip was already history as far as I'm
concerned, modeling career or not.  I'm looking forward.

Alan left me alone to unload the van so he could check on how the other
bag-boys are doing. When the boxes of uniforms are where they're suppose to
be I sit out on the dock smoking a cigarette, waiting for further
instructions.  Bag boys aren't really into doing more than they need to. If
a boss say "grab a broom!" we grab a broom and await further orders. If the
boss comes by again and says, "Sweep!" we sweep then. Alan came by fifteen
minutes later, asking, "Okay, what'd ya get out of this afternoon's
mentoring?" He asked it in a teacher/student manner with such confidence he
almost made me feel like his student.  It's a little creepy that he would
be this confident while I'm still not too sure he hasn't been putting me on
all along, but I need the job so I play it straight. "Well, Alan, you kinda
showed me that adult gay sex is too advanced for me.  I need to grow into
it." He does fake clapping without his hands coming together, saying, "Very
good! That's exactly the lesson I was teaching." I mumble, "Thank you for
showing me that," and dammit if I wasn't feeling a bit sincere about that,
although it's all bullshit.  It's just that Alan has a way about him that's
both absurd and sexy.  I've experienced the sex though, so there's no
intrigue left with that and consequently I've really no desire to engage in
anything with him again.  I would love to know what he really thinks about
all this though, but I'll bet I never find out what that is.  He pompously
states, "Glad I could help you out. Concentrate on someone other than me,
someone in your league so to speak, and you'll be better off." "Yes,
Mr. Snyder," I mutter, going back to using 'mister', and this time I was
definitely mocking him.  I can't help myself!  He goes, "You're on bag-boy
duty the rest of the shift. O'Neil's on register 11, replace him and send
him to me.  I'll be at my station," ... and that was it.  Another
anti-climatic finish, but maybe that's how it goes with older guys. So
that's the end of Alan's and my dance, so ta speak, and I'm pretty much in
the dark as to what it was all about, but that doesn't surprise me
anymore... I'm usually pretty much in the dark.

Didn't even see Alan the rest of the shift and later, back at my apartment,
I'm sick of trying to understand what I thought I was doing. Then Chubby
comes home and we talk a little, which got my mind off those two strange
sexual encounter I've had in recent weeks. Chubby's worried about one of
his midterms, blaming Samantha for it somehow. Then when Robby gets home
all three of us got into reviewing material for our last two midterms. I'm
checking Robby to see if I can detect if he had something going on with
Wilcox tonight, but how the hell can I tell? Chubby crashed before Robby
and me; then, around midnight, we take separate showers, and jump into
bed. Robby's always up-tight before a big test, and it doesn't matter if
it's a test for school or a baseball game.  His up-tight mood continued
next morning so there wasn't much in the way of chit chat as we bumbled
around in the kitchen getting juice and eating leftover pizza from the
refrigerator. One of our midterms is at ten o'clock and the other at one
o'clock in the afternoon. Taking a big breath and then blowing out his
cheeks exhaling it, Robby says, "Ya ready for this, Dylan?" and I go, "Yep,
I'm good, let's do it!" so we leave early and do some last minute studying
in the quad and then bump fists and head out for room 223 where we'll take
midterm exam number three, one to go after this one. Forty-five minutes
into the test I glance up to sneak a glance at my beautiful boyfriend just
as he's looking over to me and we exchange smiles and subtle thumbs up that
screams "gay boys in love!" if anyone saw us, but no one did. Robby
finishes his exam two minutes before me... he's waiting for me outside the
room.  We do a hug, yelling, "Yes! Dude!" then walk over to the quad for
sodas telling each other how easy that test was.  I'm like, "Yeah, that's
because we studied our asses off, kids that didn't study will say it was an
unfair, bitch of a test." This was the test we'd worried a little bit
about, this afternoon's midterm is a piece of cake, but we review one last
time and are over-prepared for it and finish with it in less then an
hour... now we're high as a kite .  We know we did good and the pressure is
off for at least another six weeks when we'll have finals.  For now it the
Easter weekend, then we have classes next week Monday thru Thursday, which
is the beginning of the last semester of our freshman year.  After those
few days of classes it's spring break; we're all excited and lovin' life.
The Alan and Philip affairs already are fading into my past... they seem
unimportant even though I feel a little sleazy about my participation and
promise myself not to let myself get into compromising situations like
those two ever again.  I get over things pretty easily though, and by the
Friday morning I'm not wasting any time thinking about Philip or Alan.  I
close out the discussion in my mind with this: mostly I regret both sexual
encounters even though, at the time, both seemed like a good idea. After
them I feel more experienced for sure, but Robby says we're not to discuss
our on-the-side sex, and I'm sure as hell good with that! Those two
episodes will forever be hidden in the back of my mind, never again to see
the light of day.

Feeling carefree, like a weight's been lifted from my brain, I whistle my
way through Good Friday, so ta speak... sleeping late, then engaging in
some naughty gay-boy sex with my boyfriend that purifies my body, then he
and me mess around torturing Chubby by turning off the hot water when
Chubby's in the shower and then taking his towel so he needs to run around
the apartment naked, cursing at us and threatening revenge. Mature pranks
like that prove we're freshman, out on our own!  Later we all have brunch
together congratulating ourselves on being brilliant college students and
then we pack-up a few things to take home with us for the long weekend.
Nothing much really happens on Good Friday, that is unless you're a
Christian person who goes to church, which we're not inclined to do even
though we are Christians, or at least our mothers are. Robby drives me home
and drops me at my condo, then drives himself to his house. Chubby drove
Samantha home; then later, at my condo it was Chubby and me alone, like the
old days. Chubby asks, "How'd ya really do in the midterms?" I go,
"Awesome, really! I could get a B in maybe three of them and I know I
passed the other one.  So, no sweat. How 'bout you?"  Chubby's like, "You
know we always do about the same, and three Bs and a passing grade on the
other seems about right this time too." I go, "We're geniuses!!" and we
bump fist and then do an extemporaneous hug telling each other, "Way to
go!" When we lets go, Chubby says, "I miss you so much, Dylan... we hardly
did anything together this entire past year, just the two of us I mean." I
go, "Well, we had the nice weekend together weeks ago, remember?" He's
like, "Yeah, I do, and we need more of that... whadda ya say?" Squeezing
the back of his neck, I go, "You know my answer to that..." and we hug
again with Chubby mumbling, "Wish it was a couple years ago... those were
such great times..." My eyes feel watery.  I love hugging Chubby and at the
moment it feels as though he's hugging me back extra hard.  Wonder what's
up with that?

to be continued...

Donny Mumford       thinat20@yahoo.com