Date: Thu, 1 Mar 2012 08:48:05 -0800 (PST)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: (18) DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR  Chapter 18     by Donny Mumford

			  DYLAN'S FRESHMAN  YEAR

			       Chapter   18

			     by Donny  Mumford


Outside the barbershop, on the sidewalk walking to the car, my face is red
hot, both from the humiliation of that entire experience, and because I'm
steaming mad, I'm bullshit pissed off!  Waiting over an hour and the barber
kicks us out... what the fuck? Maybe he's had trouble with teens, or who
knows... maybe the guys just crazy. The barber slammed the door on us and
pulled down the shade on the door, and that's that. "Jesus Christ, Willie!
How'd ya pick that asshole barbershop?" He's like, "The guys a psycho case,
how'd I know? I went by the look of the place, I thought old time barbers
would know how to do a good flattop better than the stiffs at like Super
Cuts or something." He's humiliated too. In all fairness I can't really
blame him, so I lighten-up a little, saying, "Alright, not your fault, who
the fuck expects a nitwit like that... um, ever?" We get in the car and
Willie's still feeling the embarrassment of the situation, and shouts,
"Shit!" Then shakes the steering wheel like he's trying to tear it off,
"What a jerk-off that guy is!" Then calming down, "Let me call Leonard up
at prep, the salon I usually use.  I hate to drive all the way up there,
but he'll fit us in 'cause I've been over-tipping him for years." He makes
the call and is quickly rebuffed by the girl at the desk. Willie slams the
cell phone on the seat and it bounces onto the floor.  "The bastard
wouldn't even talk to me.  That bitch at the reception desk simply told me
Leonard said he's all booked-up... never mind that's it's me. Goddammit!" I
look out the window thinking, "This isn't like any 'Willie date' I
remember!"

But still, I'm feeling bad for Willie, things just usually never go this
way when I'm with him; things usually go like clockwork, and people are
usually kissing Willie's ass trying for the absurd over-tipping he just
referred to.  I'm kinda embarrassed for him actually, so I reach over to
squeeze his arm, saying, "Forget about it, Willie."  He looks at me,
shaking his head, "I've got my heart set on the flattops,
dammit... although I do feel like an ass bringing us here." He lights a
cigarette, takes a big inhale and passes it to me, muttering, "There's only
about a thousand barbershops around this area, we'll drive up the road
until we see one and just go in." Well, the more we drive, the more it
becomes apparent that there aren't a thousand barbershops around this area.
There are a thousand unisex shops and franchise places like SuperCuts,
Fantastic Sams, and Clip Joint, plus salons like Coco's and places where
woman rule. Willie won't hear of a woman cutting a flattop, so that
eliminates all of them.  When we do find a regular barbershop there's
always a woman as one of two barbers, and Willie's getting really
frustrated and pissed off, "Nothings been going my way in like... forever!"
He screamed that out like a crazy person, saliva flying out of his mouth
splattering the windshiel of this shit box car, in which the air
conditioning doesn't work, by the way, and it's an unseasonably hot day for
spring in New England. "Why is this happening to me?" he wonders out
loud. By now I've got a roaring headache because I'm starving, so I say,
"Calm the fuck down, and lets get something to eat." Willie shouts, "I had
reservations for a nice lunch at Burtons, but that was for an hour ago!"
He's distressed beyond any sensible reasoning, so I quietly suggest, "Just
a hamburg or pizza will be fine."  He slouches in his seat, lays on the
horn at some dork who pulls out right in front of us, and whines, "I wanted
this to be a good beginning for our date, and it's turned to shit." I touch
his shoulder, saying, "It's okay, Willie.  There, pull into that Burger
King." He moans, "Oh gawd! Burger King," but he pulls in and parks. We
stand in line for ten minutes before my turn at the counter, Willie behind
me. I order cheeseburgers and fries, with medium Cokes for both of us, and
as Willie's funbling to get his wallet I hand the lady a ten dollar bill,
saying over my shoulder, "It's on me this time." He whines, "I wanted to
pay for that," as we're taking our trays to a sticky table.

Our burgers look like they've been in someone's back pocket all morning,
and Willie only eats two bites of his, and half his fries.  He's moping,
which I'm pretty good at myself at times, but usually only with Chubby when
I want to get my way, not because I'm really moping. I say, "Cheer up,
Willie! Things are looking up, my headache's almost gone." He asks,
"Headache?" but I just shake my head like I was kidding, as I'm thinking,
"Jesus... is this whole week gonna suck?"

After our lunch, such as it was, we're back in the car driving around
Framingham now, my neck of the woods, and even though Chubby and I have
never been to a barber shop, I know where they are. I direct him to a
couple, but there's a woman barber in both places. Willie finally jerks the
car to a stop and we go in Richard's Haircutting For Men, a relatively
modern looking place. Inside the door an older lady says, "You're next," to
us, and Willie pushes my back so I give him a glare over my shoulder and
sit down in the lady's barber chair still looking at Willie with eyes that
could kill. He mouths, "Flattop" and that's what I tell the senior citizen
lady barber. She tightens the noose, I mean the cape, around my neck,
asking, "You mean, a buzzcut?" and, looking at Willie, I say, "No, a
flattop!"  She blows a lot air out, mumbling, "I'll do my best, but we
don't get much call for flattops, and she said 'flattops' in a mocking
manner.  Then adds, "It's gonna be close on the sides; somebody really
screwed-up your hair." I'm thinking, "You old bat...." but I switch to
being pissed at Robby instead. As granny's running clippers around the
sides and back of my head, Willie's getting in the other barber chair
which, I suppose, is Richard's chair... he's a man anyway. This old lady
must have taken up haircutting at an older age because she isn't much good
at it.  Not as bad as Robby, but ya know? She finally says, "That's as good
as I can make it," as she's taking the cape from around me, spilling all my
beautiful hair on the floor. She'd said she'll do her best, but if this is
her best I'd hate to catch her on an bad day. Jesus! It's not actually a
flattop, closer to a buzzcut with a tiny flattop from the forehead back
about two inches, then it's all buzzed to a half inch. I look up at the
menu on the wall and don't see a price for a flattop, so ask, "How much?"
and she goes, "Nineteen dollars." Rolling my eyes, I give her a twenty and
wait for the change, thinking two things: one, if this butcher is expecting
a tip for this awful haircut she'll be waiting a long, long time... and
two, we shoulda kept our mouths shut and gone back to the cigarette smoking
grumpy barber we first went to.  Oh, I forgot... he doesn't do flattops!
She stalls for a few seconds, waiting for me to say, "Keep the change," but
I don't say it, so she hands me the dollar grumbling under her breath, and
then plops her ass down in her barber chair to wait for her next
victim. She don't get many repeat customers, I'm willing to bet on that.

Willie's still in the chair so I go outside for a cigarette, wanting to
kick something, or somebody. When Willie comes out he's feeling his head
which is sporting a flattop, and not a bad one.  It looks good, but mine
looks like shit, and Willie says, "What'd ya tell her?" I shout back at
him, "You heard me, I said flattop, and this is what I got." He shouts
back, I told ya everything's been shittty for me lately," as he stomps off
toward the car with me following, thinking, "Shitty for you? I'm the one
with the fucked-up haircut." The car won't start.  Willie jerks on the
steering wheel again screaming, veins bulging from his neck, "This fucking
piece of shit!!" he screams, with me letting out a long exhale... some
spring break, huh? Willie's got tears of rage in his eyes by now as he's
stabbing numbers into his cell phone. I hear, "Paul, the car won't start,"
pause, then, "I'm in Framingham and the car won't fuc...  won't start!" He
listens, then says, "Getting a haircut... can you get a towing service or
something to come and jump the car?" He's looking at the office building
next to where we're parked, and then gives the address, then a weak,
"Thanks, Paul... we'll wait in the car." Paul, who must be Paul Windell,
Martha's husband and executive secretary to Willie's father, apparently
asked Willie who the 'we' is because I hear him murmur, "It's Dylan Newman
and I wanted this day to go so perfectly," and he's actually crying, but he
turns away to say goodbye to Paul, and then wipes his eyes. His frustration
level is off the charts, and goes further off the charts after we've been
sitting here for an hour with no help arriving.  It takes another call to
Paul and another forty-five minutes in the car before a tow truck pulls
up... three minutes later we're on our way; neither of us saying a word,
just smoking cigarettes, spitting, and blowing smoke out the windows.
Finally, close to Willie's Weston mansion, he sounds contrite, saying, "I'm
very sorry for all this, particularly for losing my composure so
embarrassingly. I'm sorry you had to go through this, okay?" I touch his
arm mumbling, "No problem," and shortly we're driving up his long curvy
driveway and his spirits pick up a little. "We'll turn it all around from
here on out, right, Dylan?" He says it with a false sounding enthusiasm,
but at least he's trying, so I'm determine to turn it all around too.

Inside I get a very warm greeting from the housekeep, Martha. "Dylan, thank
goodness! You'll pick up Willie's spirits; he's been so depressed." Willie
mutters, "I have not.." and Mr. Windell comes out of his office to pat my
back and shake hands, asking, "How's Merrimack, son?" I mumble, "It's
great, thanks for asking." Mr. Windell is on his way out, "Be back in a few
hours, Martha.  Can I get you something when I'm out?" She says, "Bring
back some Chinese food from Lu Woo's for dinner, Rumen's off tonight."
Willie screeches, "The chef's off tonight? Dylan and I needed one of his
special dinners! This is our last night before Key West... Rumen promised
me..." Martha's patting Willie's back, cooing, "Something important came
up, honey, and Ruman needs to deal with it in Boston.  How 'bout joining
Mr. Windell and me for Chinese, you love..." Willie butts in, "No thanks,
Martha! We'll eat out." Then, softer, "But thank you... we'll be upstairs."
Mr. Windell had a stern look on his face until Willie softened up his
voice, then says, "See ya later, Martha... boys.." and out the door he
goes. We're heading up the backstairs, and it's brings back so many
memories for me, pleasant ones until Martha calls after us, "Ya filled the
car up with gas, right Willie? I need it first thing in the morning for my
trip to Worcester to see my sister." Willie, under his breath goes, "Shit!"
then calmly says, "No, I forgot, sorry. Come on Dylan, lets go do that
now." We trudge back down to the five car garage, with me asking, "If we're
going out to dinner later, why not get the gas then?" He stops, with an
exasperated deep breath, and quietly says, "Why not indeed... I can't think
straight anymore." We turn around and go back to the house where Willie
advises Martha of our plan, then we again head up to his room.

"So far, this is not what I had planned, Dylan, not at all like I
planned... nothing has gone like I planned for a while now, but I'm not
gonna bore you with all that." Bending over as he talks, he begins going
through the bottom drawer of his tall bureau, moving clothing out of the
way until he comes up with two pairs of silky girl's bikini
underwear. Turning around with a big smile on his face, he goes, "Ta da!
Remember these, Dylan? We'll both wear them later, but lets try them on for
a minute now, okay? It'll be fun, like the old days," and he's stepping out
of his sneakers as I bite the side of my lip, saying nothing. Frankly, I
know I'm not feminine in the least so it doesn't emasculate me to wear
girl's silk panties for the fun of it once in a while; hell, they feel nice
on my shaved groin. And I did make a pact with myself to recapture the old
days, if only temporarily, so lets see if this gets Willie all the way back
to his old self.
 With a rye grin, I go, "How could I forget those, Willie?"  More like
himself now, in familiar territory I guess, he goes on excitedly, "Yeah,
it's still my thing... kooky, but it's so sexy too.  Don'cha think?"
Taking off my sneakers, I mumble, "Yeah, I guess," as I watch his face get
animated looking up at me while he's quickly undressing, and for some
reason, that I don't understand, I feel kinda bad for him. But, why should
I feel bad for a rich boy who appears to have it all? Willie's already
pulled off his designer jeans, and now his boxer shorts, and then there it
is... his extra long penis, looking healthy and happy.  It flops around as
he uninhibitedly pulls on it a couple of times, then steps into the white
panties and pulls them up snugly.  His cock and balls bulge-out the front,
covering only half of his pubic hairs, which are pale brown and in their
natural state. When I pull off my boxers Willie stares, and then, seeing my
shaved pubic area goes, "Oh yeah! I forgot," as he's pulling off the
panties. Then, "Will you help me shave my pubes, Dylan... like you used
to?"  He seems like a little kid, all excited with big eyes that seem to be
imploring me to, I don't know... to come out and play, like we were eight
years old or something, and that feeling of being sad for him comes over me
again. I slowly say, "Sure, Willie, if you want."

As he's stepping back out of the panties, he says, "We'll put these on
before we go out, okay, Dylan?", making a question out of a statement. I
pull my boxers and jeans back up; then Willie takes my hand and, with his
long dick swinging between his legs he drags me into his huge bathroom, and
I go, "Wow!"  It's been completely redone and as amazing as it was before,
it's now even more unbelievable. He sees my reaction and matter-of-factly
says, "Oh yeah, father had all the bathrooms renovated last fall," and he
starts rummaging through one of the built-in drawers of the vanity
encircling two granite sinks.  All the hardware in the bathroom, and
there's a lot of it, is brushed nickel and more elaborate than would seem
necessary. The whole bathroom is an unbelievable combination of granite,
wood moldings, and thick clear glass, all shiny clean and sparkling... the
bathroom of a king, or I guess in this case, a prince. "This is really, um,
a nice bathroom Willie," I mumble, as he looks back and says, "Yeah, I love
it." It's so frigin' clean it I have to numbly ask, "Did the cleaning
service just clean in here, or something?"  He goes, "Yeah, they clean it
everyday," and then, "Here they are," and he comes up with the beard
trimmer he took from his father's room a couple of years ago.  Guess his
father gave up looking for it and bought a new one.  Willie spreads a towel
and stands on it, saying, "Ready, Dylan?" excited and eager. Glancing at
him, I nod that I'm ready and see a sparkle in Willie's eyes for the first
time, which gives me a goofy good feeling that I'm helping him get out of
the 'blues'. After giving him a little grin, I keel down, pick up his loose
cock to move it to the side, and turn on the clippers. Willie rubs my bad
haircut, saying, "This looks okay," I go, "Uh huh," and run the clipped up
beside his nuts to the top of his pubic patch cutting off lots of
feathery-light pale-brown hairs which cascade over my hand and drift to the
floor. After the second run through his pubes, Willie mutters, "Damn,
that's cool... I feel a boner coming on," and sure enough, I feel his dick
firm-up in my hand, so I stroke it... the foreskin sliding up and back,
easily covering his pink, one-eyed cock head. After three strokes the
foreskin slides off leaving the head shiny with an early drip of pre cum. I
look up, asking, "Pre cum already?" and Willie leans over to clasp my
cheeks between both his hands, saying, "You have no idea how much you turn
me on... you're so fucking cute and sexy-looking it should be against the
law," and he laughs, then plants a kiss on my upturned face, right next to
my mouth, and adds, "But I'm glad there isn't a law like that," and another
kiss.  I mumble, "Um, thanks..." and finish shaving his pubes; it only
takes two minutes. He's got himself a pretty fair boner by the time I'm
done. I'd like to suck it, to be honest about it, but that might mess up
Willie's plans, whatever they are, and he's suffered enough setbacks
already today.

Done with the clipper work, Willie says, "This is awesome... it just feels
so good when you touch me.  Your hands are so smooth and you're gentle and
it's all just as wonderful as I remember." I'm thinking, "Gentle? That's a
new one..."  Well, I'm not one to turn down a compliment, but this one is
slightly awkward so I do a goofy shrug, muttering, "I should register these
hands..." and Willie goes, "Absolutely! Okay, you're done with the
clippers, so I'll get the razor and shaving cream," continuing his upbeat
attitude. Oh yeah, I bring another boy out of the doldrums... Chubby last
night and now Willie. I'm awesome! Heh heh. Willie's dig's out his father's
Gillett ProGlide razor and shaving cream. I wet the area with a washcloth
and then shaving gel; then the ProGlide slides through the hairs as if they
weren't there, and even though I conscientiously take my time, I'm done in
less than five minutes... Willie's crotch is now as hairless as the day he
was born.  What isn't the same as the day he was born is his penis which by
now, as I said, pretty much a full blown boner, all eight inches of
it... and it's sticking up towards Willie's chin.  He's got his lips
tightly closed blowing puffs of air out his nose as he trys, almost
successfully, to keep his hips from humping forward. I'm pressing it
against his belly as I grab the washcloth off the sink and clean remnants
of gel, saying, "All done, it looks so clean and neat like this." Blowing
out a long exhale, Willie says, "I love it!" as he rubs my head
affectionately.  "This is fun, isn't it, Dylan?" "Yeah, yeah, it's a blast,
Willie," but I'm grinning in spite of myself. He says, "Um, I don't want to
cum now, but do ya wanna suck it a little?" Huh, I don't mind if I do, so I
go, "Okay, just a taste," and I lick up the shaft a few times, then suck on
just the head, and already Willie's tap dancing, going, "Uh, uh, uh....
oooh," and just like earlier, precum drools out the pee slit, which I gulp
down my throat...  no taste to it. Taking it all in my mouth requires I get
my head in position to take it down my throat and that's a trip and a half,
let me tell ya. Great boner, really great to suck.  I bring it up from my
throat and lick the head slowly, but Willie's slowly pushing my head away,
squeaking, "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum," so out from my mouth comes his
boner, a saliva/precum string connecting from it's head to my tongue, then
it breaks free and the string drifts down to wetly land across my chin and
throat, as far down as my small Adams apple.  Yum!  I love me some young
guy's cock, especially one this long.

Willie's gulping and squeezing his cock, trying not to cum, I guess.  It's
kinda funny and nothing like the old Willie's dominant ways.  It's like
he's new to this. On my knees I'm watching him with a grin on my lips, half
thinking he's kidding. Kidding or not, I'd like to see Willie get a little
bossier... get my juices flowing a little. He's doing some deep breathing,
staring at me on my knees, a wry grin on my face, sorta licking my lips
'cause that boy has a sweet dick. We're staring into each others eyes, with
me wondering, "What the fuck...?" when a light seems to go on behind
Willie's eyes. He's twisting his lips together like he's contemplating
something, then mumbles, "Well, nothing else has gone the way I planned,
what the hell," and he steps back, raising his eyebrows and opening his
mouth as he does it, which makes me open my mouth a little.  Willie pushes
the head of his hard cock against my front teeth, and after half a second I
open wider and he slides his cock over my tongue, then cups behind my head
with both hands and gently pulls my head forward so that his cock forces
it's way through my gag area and all the way down my throat again,
seemingly past my heart, my nose pressed into his recently shaved belly.
Humping my throat, barely moving his hips, he mumbles, "I had this
beautiful picture in my head of our love making tonight, in bed, after a
great dinner prepared by the chef here at the house... like we used to do,
but nothing works out for me anymore, and I can't come-up with enough will
power to wait that long, so I'm going to fuck you all afternoon. Okay?"
He's pulling his boner out, as he asked, "Okay?" and I'm gasping for air,
my face warm, turned-on now.  My cock grows quickly into a hard boner and I
stroke myself, thinking, "This is more like it!".  His demeanor is pretty
close to the way I remember him... the way he just said everything in that
manner that suggests he's made a decision to fuck me all afternoon, without
consulting me. That's the old Willie, haha... and it gets me excited and
sexually aroused. The trace state I like so much begins to come over me
like a familiar, comfortable blanket, and I nod my head up and down
slightly to show Willie I like his plan. Willie does the hand on either
side of my face again as he's leaning down, and at the same time pushing
his cock down my throat again; then, a loving kiss on my forehead before he
straightens up and does a slow fuck of my face. "I'm under control okay
now," he mutters, "Not gonna cum too soon.  It was the initial feel of your
mouth on my cock that had me almost spunking like a thirteen year old boy's
first blow job." I nod my head slightly, then gag a little before using
muscles in my throat to try swallowing his cock.

Willie's beaming at me, then closes his eyes and does a quiet. "Mmmmm," to
himself, and then some soothing cooing sounds follow, like he's as content
as a purring cat being stroked by a safe, familiar hand . After a quiet,
Ohooo, so nice," he softly says, "It's just like I remember, baby... even
better because it's been so long since the last time," and the palms of
both his hands are on me caressing my shoulders, then my newly-cut
pseudo-flattop. He pulls back so I can breath and then slides his hard,
spit covered cock easily all the way down my throat again, and once more
presses my face into his belly tightly.  I can't smell anything until he
pulls back, and I can then smell his belly; it's mostly the fresh smell of
the shaving cream, but a little of Willie's personal scent too, a scent
that has always aroused me... a clean boyish athletic scent of pink skin
and a t-shirt worn all day long.  He softly muttering, "I'd love, love,
love to cum in your fabulous mouth, but I want to fill your boy-pussy with
my sperm even more." That was said as he's pulling his saturated cock all
the way off my tongue with an even larger saliva and precum strand
attached; that too breaks off the head and swings down across my chin and
neck, and my shoulders shudder as I'm running my tongue around in my mouth
savoring the taste of his cock and precum. "Up ya go, baby..." and, in a
trance of arousal, my boner vibrating in my pants and my anus quivering
with anticipation, I shakily stand with the vague thought in my head that,
"This is why I looked forward to this reunion... this is it." I must have
known it was the main reason for wanting to go on the trip with him, but
for some reason I hadn't allowing myself to articulate it to my
consciousness.  Why is that, I wonder?

His chest is expanding with deep breaths as Willie strokes his wet boner,
his eyes shining brightly now, and there's different expression on his
face, like...  this is what it's all about, and maybe he's right.  This is
our connection, maybe it's always been our main connection, although I
remember being very much in love with him too. Willie undoes my jeans as I
stand before him staring at his uniquely attractive, now serious-looking
face.  He does look awesome in his flattop, all crisp and boyish in that
youthful way I like so much. He pulls my shorts down to join my jeans
around my ankles, and then I step out of both as my boner bounces, then my
boner is snug between our bodies as he hugs me to him, and his mouth covers
mine. Willie's kissing me even more intensely than the kiss in front of my
condo, and I feel my balls churning spunk in a frenzy, waves of pleasure
traveling from my tongue to my cock, and then they spread over my entire
body and I meld into Willie and give my body to him to use for awhile. My
cock is jerking now, pulling at the cum in my balls, desperately wanting to
feel it shoot up and out the super sensitized head... out through the
gaping lips of my piss hole.  I'm making noises in my throat, ready to blow
my load when Willie backs away from me. He has a round white spot on each
of his cheeks that I stare at, the surround shin of his cheeks is rosy red
as I look up slowly into his eyes. His short hot breaths coming out in
spurts, like he's just done a lot of physical exercise. Breathlessly he
says, "Turn around now, Dylan, and I'll do what you and I do better than
any two boys in the world," and as I turn, he adds, "I can see in your eyes
that you want it as much as I do... we're two peas in a pod when it comes
to boy on boy sex." I'm matching his little-puff breathing technique as I
do that tiny nod of my head, barely moving my head up and down, not really
processing his exact words, just knowing I want to feel his eight inch
cock, hard and long, up my rectum.

"I'll fill your pussy up with pleasure..." then quieter, "Just like we used
to do when we were young." I'm thinking, "We're still young," Willie's only
slightly younger than me; he's a year behind me in school, but we're both
nineteen. Willie murmurs, "I'm a little nervous because I've been building
this moment up in my mind ever since I asked you to go to Key West and I'm
afraid I'm gonna spunk so soon it'll make me look like a wuss." I blow out
a lot of air, but can't come up with anything to say.  Mostly I'm just
stroking my boner as my heart pounds quickly in my chest, making it hard to
breath. "Don't think of anything but the sensations of this sex," I
silently tell myself, as the familiar thought drifts into my head that I'm
overly in love with doing this. He rubs his cock head on my buttocks, then
bumps the head on my anus a few times while rubbing my back with the palm
of his other hand, while murmuring, "You have the most perfect skin, it
feels so smooth, not a freckle or blemish of any kind, and your ass is the
sexiest ass I've ever seen." He presses the head of his cock at my asshole
and uses both hands to grab fistfuls of my buttocks, then presses them
together tightening my asshole, and pushes his cock past my sphincter ring
in one movement. "Ow," 'cause it burns a little without lube, but we both
go, "Ahhh, oooh," when his full head plows a little up my ass. With a hand
on each of my shoulders he massages then tightly, grunting and blowing a
lot of damp breath on my back, then his lips suck at where my neck meets my
shoulder as he's pushing his hard boner slowly further and further up my
ass, saying, "Tell me if it's hurting you, baby." I gulp, tightening my
sphincter muscles to increase the wonderful sensation in my rectum, and try
to answer him, but only a quiet, "Umm, ohhh," escapes my lips.  Willie's
cock head isn't as thick as Robby's, and it's smaller than Chubby's too,
but still feels like it's totally filling up my tunnel. And, it keeps going
up my ass, past where Robby's cock reaches and on and on until I want to
scream with the thrill of it all.  The visual in my mind has Willie's cock
head approaching my lungs; it feels so much longer than eight inches.

A full minute later, or so it seems, I feel Willie's hairless crotch
pressing against my ass, and then he presses harder against my buttocks
compressing them to get on me a tiny bit deeper. He's got a hand on each of
my hips now, pulling me into him as he presses against me, and it's a
natural inclination for me to bend forward. Willie quietly exhales a long
held-breath, then he says, "That's right, baby, bend all the way over so I
can fuck you properly." He's swiveling his hips moving his hard boner in
that manner which further massages my prostate, and I whimper, "Oooohhh,
yeah," before he pulls slowly out, maybe six inches, then drives his hard
eight inch boner back up, mumbling, "I got ya now, babe, huh?" and all I
can do is grab my cock and stroke it fast a few times, groaning with
pleasure.  I loved that dumb, but dominant statement right there... the, "I
got ya now, babe" one; it makes me feel dominated, like I belong to him, or
something, and that he's glad I do.  It's stupid, and I know that, but it's
part of the sexual game to me, and without understanding it, I love it so!
Perhaps feeling totally in charge now, Willie begins a staccato rhythm of
fucking,: three quick full-length thrust followed by the grinding and
swiveling hips motion, then a half dozen slow penetrations as he blows out
a lot of air once again, and croons, "Ohhhh boy, ooooh yes," then, while
humping me fast and hard, he grunts out, "How you like it, Dylan?  Feel
good?" and this time I do reply, with, "Yes sses, yeahh ehh," stuttering it
out as he's roughly humping me now, fucking me so fast and hard my voice
box is skipping from syllable to syllable.  My dick is leaking now too, and
my rectum is alive with the best-feeling sensations imaginable. I don't
dare touch my cock or I'd blow my load for sure." He stops, pulls out, and
orders, "Lay on your back at the edge of the bed!" My asshole is stretched
wide open and the lips of my anus pucker and do a sucking motion wanting
his cock back in there. I flop on the bed, my eyes starry and my body
tingling pleasantly, it's like being addicted to cocaine or something; I
want it so bad I'm licking my lips and tightening all the muscles in my
belly and ass, desperate to feel that long rod up inside me again. "Legs
spread and back," he says, and as I comply I'm staring at his engorged,
wet, shiney cock; what a huge boner; it's so long it droops even being as
hard as it is.  My six inches is sticking straight out from my body, the
head pulsating like it's a living thing on it's own; the lips of my pee
slit are open wide, ready to explode with the cum that's rolling around in
my nuts. Willie looks at me with eyes of old, "Ya lovin' it, baby... huh?"
and all I can do is nod my head and inch off the edge of the bed to get my
ass a little closer to that incredible boner of his.

After massaging my ass a few times, teasing me, making me gasp with desire,
he murmurs, "Ya ready for more, babe?" and I gasp, "Yeah, yes, Willie, fuck
me..." he smiles and leans down to stick his tongue in my mouth, and then
suck on my tongue, pulling in out of my mouth before letting go of it, then
sucking my top lip and doing the same pulling action, his cock head half
way past my anus lips and I involuntarily hump my ass forward causing the
cock head to pass fully through, "Eeeee, ahhh, Willie," as he straightens
up and fucks me hard, like he's pissed-off about something.  His lips
tightly closed, his eyes barely open to slits. My legs go around his waist
and I try to pull him into me more as the feeling comes on me and my eyes
get wide; almost immediately cum splatters out of my cock head, and I go,
"Eeee," again, then the whole orgasm is trying to fly out at the same time
causing that burning sensation at the pee slit that I often get when
especially aroused. Willie's long cock slamming up my ass and I almost
blackout with relief as the first stream of cum passes through my cock, and
I'm squeezing every muscle in my body to assist two fast moving short
spurts of cum quickly following the first long one. that first main stream
of my spunk is drooling down Willies chest as he closes his eyes entirely
making a "Shusssss'ing sound through his clenched lips, then he fills my
ass with his creamy boy cum, all sweet and sticky. He goes, "Oh my gawd!!!
Ahhhh, oh, oh,oh...." and my ass is a sloppy wet mess, but he continues
driving his cock up there anyway, drawing cum out with each withdrawal, and
splashing it around my ass, and his crotch, with each hard
penetration. Gasping for breath, Willie finally lays on my chest, leaving a
good portion of his cock in my soggy rectum; it was a very excellent fuck
and our hearts beat against our chests as we both breath deeply, my legs
still around him, and now my arms go around his back as the bodies of two
nineteen year old gay boys shimmy and shake with sexual vibrations that are
both glorious, and somehow a little scary because it was a sexual encounter
of great intensity.  The intensity was initiated by Willie, but adopted by
me, by osmosis perhaps. Very different than the sex Chubby and I shared,
which was full of love, and possibly need. This was sex, period. It's like
Willie was trying to excise demons of his that I don't know about. Still,
it was sexually hotter than the hubs of hell... or I imagine it was, not
knowing exactly how hot the hubs of hell are.

Willie is soon whispering in my ear, his lips right next to my right one;
"Thank you, Dylan... there's only 'you' as far as I'm concerned when it
comes to perfect sex." Not knowing what that means, but thinking there's
probably a story behind it, as obviously Willie's self confidence, self
image too I guess, has been tampered with somehow since the last time we
had sex together. Another mystery for me to wonder about.  He recaptured a
little of his old swagger during the fuck, but now he's back to acting more
like, I don't know, a grateful frame of mind.  He used to act like he was
so cool it was almost as through he was giving me a gift; the gift of
fucking me. I know that's dumb, but it seemed that way at times; at times
way back when, that is.  Not that I ever minded it so much, no more than I
minded Willie's other eccentric behavior at times... it was just Willie
being the unique boy that he is... or was.  What's happened in the past
eight or nine months to him? I'm pretty sure I'll find out in the coming
days, but for now I have this weird sense that I'm taking care of him
somehow. Or maybe it's just that everything went wrong for him today; it
was such an "un-Willie-like" start to our so-called date.

After a minute of silence, just hugging and sweating together, he asks
quietly, almost shyly, "How was it for you, Dylan?" Seems like lately
everyone wants to be complimented on their fucking technique.  Well,
Willie's was awesome, I must say; so, trying to pick-up his spirits again,
I enthusiastically say, "Awesome, Willie!  Whaddaya think, dude... you fuck
great!" and he humps my ass a few more times before picking his head up,
and with a little grin on his lips, goes, "Right answer, baby. Aww, you're
the best, Dylan, and you always have been." I smile back at him, staring at
his face, which I've always thought is unusual, although very cute. Then as
he gets back on his feet and slowly pulls his now fairly limp cock from my
ass, with me making a "Hissssss," through my teeth at the sensations in my
rectum, his cock head pops-out and his dick swings free, as he says, "Let's
take a shower, then I got a couple of presents for you." I'm thinking,
"Here we go again," but then, who gives me presents other than Willie? I'm
kinda excited about it actually.

Getting out of bed, we take off the rest of our clothes and Willie, holding
my hand, leads me into the bathroom, our dicks swinging in the breeze and
my ass drooling cum down the back of my legs. The cum I shot across his
chest is almost dry now; some on it was transferred to my chest when he lay
on me and it's dry now too, feeling stiff on my chest and stomach. The
shower is so wonderful it's sick; I mean it's outrageously awesome with
four spouts pouring water on us from all sides, plus a rain-water
big-headed nozzle over head. I'm assuming the Worthington's aren't
concerned with the size of their carbon footprint. We're drenched within
five seconds. Willie laughing, takes a handheld shower head and directs the
sprat at my balls, and Jesus! that's a sensation... so cool.  I get the
other handheld shower head and spray it on Willie's nuts and now we've got
water coming at us from seven shower heads; a person could drown in
here. After acting like nine year old kids for a minute, we put the
handheld shower sprays back on the granite walls and shampoo each other's
hair, then do the same all over our bodies with thick cotton washcloths
using excellent smelling bath gel; a manly scent for us gay boys. What a
great shower.  Drying with heavy blanket towels, Willie seems happy enough
so maybe I'm misreading him; maybe he's just more serious than he used to
be... or maybe not. I'm just not sure, but this is turning into a good day
after all, so why fabricate things to worry about? Hell, I'll just enjoy
the uniqueness of this experience; it's always different from what I'm used
to when I'm with Willie; todays just been a different kind of different.

Shiny clean, but still naked, we choose clothes to wear, Willie insisting I
wear his.  First the panties he showed me earlier go on, and ooooh, they
feel so silky smooth, but my cock and balls bulge out the front almost as
much as Willie's.  Ha ha, weird, but kinda kinky cool. Willie says, "Lets
go all Abercrombie and Fitch," and opens a section of his mahogany
ceiling-to-floor dresser with all A & P stuff. Well, the temperature is in
the sixties outside, so I grab what looks like a brand new blue, pull-over
hoodie of light weight material, then a pair of classic gray sweatpants,
and a cool-looking yellow short sleeve T-shirt for under the hoodie.
Willie mumbles, "Ah, my favorite cellar mountain tee," as he as picks out a
crew-neck, dark blue sweater, and a pair of straight-leg, slim-fit
jeans. These are so cool! I put on my the sweat pants, mercifully covering
my pink panties, then my tee, and lastly the hoodie.  I'm a rich kid again,
haha.  After pulling on my own sneakers, which drags down the 'look' some
what, but not a lot, I ask, "How do I look, Willie?" He says, "Good enough
to eat," as his crew neck goes over his head, then his jeans and sneakers
go on. Cloths look best on slim boys like us. "Okay, now let me show you
what I got for you, Dylan," and Willie's really 'up' now, so things have
turned around. "I know you don't like to keep my gifts, but I hope you'll
keep these. They're not that expensive, really... and they're perfect for
you.

He takes two Neiman Marcus shopping bags from beside his desk, saying, "I
got stuff for myself too," and gives a sort of embarrassed chuckle, before
adding, "Couldn't help myself. Buying new stuff is fun.  Here..." and he
hands me one of the bags, saying, "Only four little things for our trip."
Smiling, I mumble, "Thanks, Willie... that's sweet, dude," and take a peek
inside. The first thing I see is an eyeglass case, a wicked nice one too,
so I take it out of the bag, figuring they're sunglasses... and that's what
they are. A pair of Oakley sunglasses... so fuckin' cool they're sick!
Reading the tag: it says, "Oakley Split Transition Jacket... Solfx,"
whatever all that means.  I know what the little numbers mean; on a little
tag hanging from a string, I discover the sunglasses cost $260.00.  Looking
up at Willie, I go, "They're really not that expensive?  Is that what you
said?" and he cuckles again, enjoying himself. "Only the Oakleys are
expensive, kinda... well, the swim trucks too, I guess." Shaking my head,
then saying, "I absolutely love them! Thank you so much," and he pulls the
same case from his bag, saying, "Ta da! I have a pair just like 'em. Aren't
the cool?" and he puts his on, then I put mine on, and yeah... they look
cool alright! Wow! Reaching in the bag I pull out the swimming shorts he
mentioned, and while they're really nice, they don't look all that
expensive until I see the tag on them for an even $200.00. The tag reads,
"Vilebrequin Moorea Patterned Swim Shorts".  Huh, never heard of them, but
they're cool too; awesome pattern, like the islands. Willie pulls his out
and they're just like mine, except a different background color: mine pale
green and Willie's pale yellow... very classy looking. I have to say,
"They're awesome, Willie, I love these too," and he's really beaming now.
The last two items are super nice, but mundane compared to the first two
presents.  One is an orange Dri-FIT Nike, sleeveless tee... the kind with
shoulders, but without sleeves, plus, of course the Nike swoosh
logo... cool!  I love this kind of t-shirt, the sleeveless ones that show
off my guns. The last thing in the bag is a pair of Nike baggy training
shorts that reach to the knees, also made with the Dr-FIT material, so
light, almost flimsy, like you're wearing nothing almost.  Willie has the
same tee and shorts, but in different colors; he probably thinks he's
dressing down with these items, and for him I guess he is, but I'd never
pay forty dollars for a T-shirt, or sixty dollars for shorts. "Willie, you
out did yourself, dude.  I'd pick the same things for myself... if, ya
know, I could afford them." He comes over and we kiss, with him mumbling,
"You're so welcome, sweetheart. You'll look fabulous in everything."

This is different than the last time he gave me presents.  That time each
one was wrapped in designer paper in separate boxes, and Willie had
narrated each gift, expecting me to fall all over him with each present.
This time he hands me a shopping bag, and has one himself... casual like.
More casual, more relaxed, more like guys do. Plus, he knows I like Nike
stuff so he got me two things from Nike. The swim shorts designers I've
never heard him mention, and obviously I'd never have heard of him on my
own.  Oakley sunglasses everybody's heard of, but few can afford them.
Still, this time the most expensive gift is the sunglasses when in the past
the cheapest gift he's ever given me was a $350.00 sport watch, which is
among the stuff I sent back to him, but I dod love that watch. With a
twinkle in his eyes, Willie reaches in his shopping bag, and goes, "Oh,
what a surprise, I bought myself one more gift... and it's from the Apple
Store!"  Like he doesn't know what it is. Out comes Apple's latest iPod,
and Willie explains, "This baby has 160 GB, can hold 40,000 songs and 200
hours of video.  I got a dock for it too so we can play my iPod like a CD
player." I go, "Whoa, that's sharp looking," and Willie rattles off the
details, "Black anodized aluminum, uber cool." I go, "What are you saying,
you didn't get me one?" and Willie blushes like he's committed a major faux
fas, a major social plunder. He then wrestles me around the neck, gives me
a kiss, and says, "I'm sorry, here, you can have this one." I go,
"Willie!!! I'm kidding," and he says, "No really, take it; we'll play tunes
in Key West with this thing... both can enjoy it. I already loaded it with
all my CD's and itunes." Giving Willie a hug, I thank him again for
everything, but insist I was kidding, "I already have an iPod, Willie, "
although I don't. He reluctantly agrees to keep it, then says, "I saved
some of those presents you broke my heart by sending back to me last
fall... look," and he opens a shoe box where, wrapped in tissue paper, are
my necklace, watch, and wallet. "Willie!" I yell, "This isn't playing fair!
I love those things and it was hard parting with them, now you tease me by
bringing them back to life."  He's like, "I'm sorry, but they're yours. I
thought you'd be happy to see them again." I go, "I am, and I'll use them
all during our trip, then they all go back to you for safe keeping..." He
mutters, "We'll see," as I'm taking off my Timex and putting on this
awesome sport watch. Then the David Yurman necklace with the cross, which I
always wore outside my shirt to show it off.  Somebody, it might have been
that asshole Jake, told me this necklace cost at least a thousand
dollars. The wallet I slip in my pocket and it feels like it belongs
there. Hey, I'll be bringing these new clothes with me too, they're cool to
ignore!

Willie says, "Ya wanna try our new stuff on?" and I give him a look like,
"Ya gotta be kidding!" He spreads his hands, saying, "What...?" I go,
"That's slightly girlie isn't it? Trying on new clothes." He says, "Yeah,
it probably is, but we're wearing girl's panties, doesn't that allow us to
bypass the macho rule of pretending we don't give a shit about clothes?" I
made a goofy face, and say, "Ya know what, I think it does," and we strip
off our pants to try on the swim shorts... oh man, perfect fit! We try all
our new clothes on and compliment each other on how we look in them. I
think they're all awesome.  When we're back in our original clothes, the
ones from Willie's A & F closet, he goes, "Hey, look at the time.  I gotta
make dinner reservations... how 'bout Ken's?"  Ken's Steak House is a
restaurant Chubby and I have had dinner at a few times, just the two of us
when we needed to work out a problem or celebrate a solution to a
problem. I go, "Sure, Ken's is great.  I'd like that." His cell phone beeps
before he can call though, and when he checks the called ID, he goes,
"Jesus, it's Carl, Carl Denton." I'm like, "Carl? You still hangin' out
with those two, him and his cousin?" "No, not really," Willie mutters as he
hits the 'talk' key, saying, "Hello?" All I hear is Willie, of course... He
looks at me, then turns away saying, "Yeah, he's here, how'd you
know?"... then after listening, he says, "Um, yeah I did, but it wasn't a
good idea,"... then after a bit, "We're going out to dinner at Ken's,"
.... then, "Um, I don't know.  I'll ask him." Holding the phone against his
chest, Willie turns to me, and says, "Carl's got some guys over, not Larry,
and he wants us to stop over for old times sake. They're doing a New
England clam bake with lobsters and all that stuff... clam chowder and
all. Whaddaya say, wanna stop over to say hello, and we can eat there?"
Jeez, I haven't seen Carl in a couple of years.  He's my original mentor
into gay sex, and he actually took advantage of me, but I did get a wicked
crush on him before coming to my senses. What to say? I go, "Um, I don't
know, what do you think?" Willie shrugs, and says, "Let's go, we can always
leave if it sucks," and not wanting to argue, I go, "I'm not so sure I want
to see him again, but... oh, I don't know." Willie says, "Fuck it, we'll
stop in," and to Carl, "Okay, what times dinner?" and they talk for another
little bit before he clicks off the cell, and says to me, "We'll make it an
early night.  The guys are doing the cooking and they're making the chowder
right now, we can stop over anytime." It's my turn to shrug, but I don't
say anything... it sounds like a bad idea, and that's what I should have
said right off the bat, but I didn't.

With a devilish grin on his face, Willie comes over and musses my flattop,
as much as you can muss a flattop, asking, "Wanna mess around some more, in
our panties this time... and, ya know, see what pops up?" Without having
planned to say this, I say, "Oh, okay, but I want to be the one messin'
around on top." His eyes open wide, "You want to top?!!! Oh my God, I'm all
squirmy! I didn't think you did that, I'd love it!" Jesus, he seems
sincerely excited. I try to act suave, going, "Oh yeah. I top a lot with my
boyfriend," and I don't even know why I'm lying, but the fact is I need to
do more of this... it's a whole different sensation, and every one of the
rare times I've done it I ask myself, "Why don't I do this more often?"
although I already know the answer to that question: it's because I like
the bottom best, but still this is all about a different adventure; this
me-and-Willie, boyfriend-on-the-side thing... this maybe
boyfriend-on-the-side thing... ya know, if it all turns out okay.  Willie's
taking off his clothes again, asking, "Is it okay if we do it in bed?" I'm
a tad nervous all of a sudden, wanting to do it good, but lacking a lot of
experience. I fake confidence, and say, "Sure," as I start taking off my
clothes.

In Willie's larger-than-king size bed, under the dark blue sheets, we're
face to face, as I ask, "How do you like it?" He says, " Me on my back and
you on top so we can kiss while you fuck me. This is so exciting I'm
probably gonna cum in thirty seconds." His voice is so much like Robby's it
throws me off for a second, and I hesitate before mumbling, "Um..." and
Willie adds, "Or anyway you want, that's just my favorite way... it doesn't
need to be that way though." I say, "No, no... that's a good way, but,
dude, you just had a huge orgasm a couple hours ago so you won't likey blow
another one in thirty seconds, heh heh," and lean in for a kiss.  Willie's
the best kisser, and I'm not saying I'd rather make-out with him than
Robby, just that he's an awesome make-out boy.  He's been doing it a hell
of a lot longer than Robby and me; well, I'm not sure he's been doing it
longer then Robby, but longer then me for sure. I was a quick study when it
came to gay related things though, and I guess I gotta admit that Carl was
a good mentor in that regard. Making out with Willie for a minute just now
and my mind goes blank because it's so perfectly sexy; he's my first true
lover and there's nothing like your first love. God, he gets me hot, and my
boner comes up quickly as a result.  It's his aroma and intensity that
captures me, and soon both our boners are sticking out the top of our
panties, rubbing together and, man oh man, that's the best! Short of breath
my mouth comes loose of his, so he starts licking around my face and nose
with his bubble-gum pink tongue, and that old sensation of smelling him and
his clear, clean saliva, and his almost naked body really gets me hot, and
I just love this feeling! It's a whole body experience, laying skin to skin
from head to foot, so that all my sensors are on high alert, and
tingling. "I love doing this with you, Dylan," he mutters. I gasp, "Get on
your back, we'll do it like that." He flops over, panting... his face
flushed, his eyes shining.  It occurs to me that Willie may like boy-on-boy
as much as I do. I get on top of him, then sit-up on my knees between his
legs and slide my hand under his panties, stretching them so I can press my
finger on his anus... pressing until it slides inside him.  He groans, and
then says, "Let me suck your cock to get it slippery." I finger his hole a
few times, pull out and shimmy up his body.  Five minutes ago we were
trying on clothes and not we're both in the middle of hot sexual arousal;
it don't take Willie and me long to get into it... or Robby and me either,
for that matter.  We're lucky that way!

With a knee at each of Willie's armpits, I'm hovering over him pulling my
panties down under my nuts, then lower my cock to his open mouth and slide
it in on his tongue, that great pink tongue that he's sticking out for me.
His eyes close as he sucks my boner into his mouth, lifting his head so he
can take it into his throat. So fucking hot!! I'm biting my lip as he uses
his throat muscles to do swallowing motions and then lays his head back
down to suck on my cock head, lathering it with his spit. Oooh, I lean
forward to feel it down his throat again, then pull up with Willie choking
and sputtering.  Pulling my sloppy boner out of his mouth, the same kind of
spit and precum string attaches to his lips that attached to mine when I
sucked his long cock a couple hours ago. The same thing happens to the wet
string too; I pull back and the string flops onto his chin and Willie licks
it clean as I make my way back to get between his legs again. He spreads
his legs and humps up his ass a little as I fumble with my boner, a little
over anxious. I get it to match with his asshole, and wait a second just
staring at his eager face before humping it inside him, and we both go,
"Eeeee, oooh," then I slowly push my cock up his ass, my eyes close as
saying to myself, "Yes! You gotta do this more often!" and then I'm laying
against his newly shaved crotch, all the way up inside him.  The withdrawal
has me on the verge of squealing, it feels so fabulous, and seeing Willie
laying there submissively, letting me fuck him, is a turn on too, and I see
the attraction he has for doing me. Inside his rectum my slippery boner
feels snug from head to shaft as in and out, and in and out it
goes... jesus, it feels so good.  Willie's licking around his lips,
mumbling, "Fuck me, baby, fuck me," and with that encouragement I get a
good rhythm going and Willie begins bumping up off the bed to match my
thrust up his ass, and then we get a little wild with it for a minute
bringing on that feeling in my balls. I slow up again and lean down to
connect with his quivering lips; his arms go around my neck and as he sucks
on my tongue my hips begin fucking him fast again. Our bodies constantly
rubbing together, the taste of his mouth and the wonderful boyish/sexy
smell of him as me grunting in my throat, and then, with a gargling sound
from his throat and a violent hump of his hips against my crotch, Willies
cock shoots-out a short string of cum that wets my stomach, then another
long one, and another as he's almost crushing my face against his. Then I
shoot what feels like a long stream of cum up his ass and I do a really
hard hump into his ass, holding my cock as far up his rectum as I can get
it, and pour more spunk out as the sensations are all over me now.  As
usual, my toes curl until they're about to cramp-up with me doing hard,
short humps against his crotch, my boner squishing around in the cum in his
ass. It's great to be a teenager at moments like this.  Love my second
orgasms! Willie's hips are still bouncing up against me, and I'm still
fucking him, but we're both out of spunk.

Slowly the world comes back in focus as I slow down my fucking, slowing it
down until I just flop down on Willie.  He's kissing any part of my face he
can reach, mumbling, "That was awesome, baby..." then quieter, "I love you,
Dylan... love you so much, sweetheart," and somewhere in my brain I'm
thinking, "Uh oh...."  It passes without me reciprocating feelings of love,
although I'd be glad to reciprocate feelings of lust for him: Willie is
uniquely sexual... to me, at least. Pulling out of his ass my dick stays
hard; it enjoyed itself immensely, so did I, but I'm not in love with
Willie and I'm hoping that topic is just a fleeting thing with him too;
hoping he just got caught-up in the moment. We lay together, me in his
arms, talking about the sex we just had and complimenting each other just
like we did when trying on our new clothes. No further talk of love, and I
give Willie credit for dropping that when I didn't respond to it. He
finally says, "I want to go to Carl's like this." I look shocked, and he
laughs, then says, "Not just in our panties dummy, hahaha. I mean without
taking a shower, with your sweat and spit and cum all over me.  I'll just
let it dry... how 'bout it?" I've got my own cum on my dick, and Willie's
cum on my stomach, but it's not nearly the volume of our first fuck, and so
what the hell, it's cool being raunchy sometimes, and screw Carl, who's he
anyway, so I go, "Let's do it.  It'll be our private joke that those
phonies won't have a clue about." Willie gets out of bed with his hand at
his asshole, mumbling, "Well, I think I will wipe off some of your spunk
from my ass so I don't wet through my pants," and I go, "Wimpin' out..."
just kidding him. He grins, and goes, "Just a little," and wipes his ass
with a tissue before getting dressed, for about the tenth time this
afternoon; in his A & F clothes again... I do the same. My cum soaked cock
wets right through the silk panties making us both laugh.

Dressed and feeling great, Willie takes my hand and we walk to the car,
Martha's car actually, with Willie saying, "Remind me to fill this bow-wow
vehicle up with gag; I promised Martha." Coming up to the first gas station
on the way to Carl's place, I say, "Get gas, Willie," but he drives by
saying, Right after Carl's, I'm getting hungry for some lobster."  As we
drive along Willie mentions he saw Larry a few weeks ago and that when he
probably mentioned I was coming to Key West with him, which must be how
Carl knew I'd be at Willie's house. "Why's ya see Larry?" I ask, and Willie
goes, "Oh, it was nothing," then changes the subject telling me about the
trouble he needed to go through to be able to rent a car in Key West.  It's
terrible how prejudice businesses are against teenagers.  His father's
executive secretary, Paul Windell, had to make the arrangements through the
hotel. Willie explains, "Anyway, the car rental situation is taken care of,
and FYI, we'll be staying at Casa Marina resort, right on the ocean with a
fabulous beach; it's where father has stayed many times over the years, and
I've been there once with Mr. and Mrs. Windell once. It's the time father
treated the Windells, as a Christmas present, to a long weekend in Key
West. Father always stays in the top floor suite, but I didn't stay there
that time with the Windells, and you and me aren't going to be staying
there this week either; it's too expensive for my meager allowance!" That
statement makes me frown because I'm sure Willie told me that this trip was
a graduation present from his father, so what does Willie's allowance have
to do with it? It's be rude to question the finances however, so I don't;
maybe I heard him wrong about a graduation present. We smoke as we talk and
I'm feeling pretty good; I have no desire to stay in the presidential
suite, or whatever it is, anyway. Just a room, some sun and ocean, and I'll
be all good.  It's a new adventure, and now I'm real relaxed due to the
very nice sex this afternoon; both of the 'nooners' was exceptional,
actually. I'm feeling good, heading over to see an old acquaintance where I
can show him how much I've grown; not in height, I mean maturity-wise.  I'm
no longer the scared, dumb little seventeen year old naive boy he knew.
I've gotten around since then, and maybe I'll show off a little... ha ha.
Plus, a lobster dinner sounds good, I've never had one.  I'm curious though
about the reason Willie's had for getting together with Larry, but maybe it
was sorta like us getting together with Carl... just a quick reunion of
sorts.  Yeah, but Larry's a bigger asshole then even Carl was back then.

As he's parking the car in front of Carl's house, Willie says, "We can't
forget to get gas first thing when we leave Carl's." I shrug and mumble,
"Okay," as I'm staring at the house thinking about the times I walked from
my house to here; it's like that old line, de' ja' vu all over again. But,
damn, I remember the house being more imposing.  It's a nice single house,
but back then I thought it was really something special, and now it reminds
me of Robby's house... nice, but kind of ordinary, middle class. Not that I
wouldn't love to have it for my mom, me, Chubby and Tris. Getting out of
the car we step on our cigarette butts, and I say, "Oh, there's a gas
station two blocks over on Abason road, down near the light."  Willie nods
his head, muttering, "Good," as I hand him a stick of gum, and then it's up
the sidewalk to the front door we go, with, all of a sudden, an odd feeling
of dread in my head. No one answers the front doorbell so we exchange
looks, then Willie says, "They're probably around back, let's try that."
I'm thinking it's a bit chilly this late in the day for a cook out; it's
still April fer chrissakes, but I follow Willie through a gate and then we
walk down the path along the side of the house to the gate leading to the
backyard... two gates, slightly redundant, no? I smile, thinking, "Wonder
if Mr. Denton wears both a belt and a pair of suspenders?"

Sure enough, there's a fire-pit flaming away back here and three guys
preparing food; they're jostling and giggling at the picnic table near the
warming fire pit. There's also a big propane grill fired-up with a big
lobster pot and a smaller pot bubbling away on the grates.  Kind of a sweet
set-up; maybe this'll be fun after all. It doesn't start out being fun
though... a very gay-acting guy turns around at the sound of the second
gate's squeaky hinges, and says, "Who the fuck are you two?" He's gay
acting in the sense that he shows exaggerated limp-wrist motions waving his
hands, a paring knife in one hand and the other hand keeping the first one
company. He's also using what sounds like a put-on lisping voice to ask
that rude question. There are a couple of rose-colored tattoos on his neck,
and he's dressed like a biker: a black leather outfit studded on the
shoulders with bright chrome, and black smears under each eye like football
and baseball players sometimes have. Halloween anyone?  His eyes are opened
wide and the lisp even thicker, as he answers his own question with,
"Dessert, I presume." Well, I don't know why I should be surprised... Carl
is gay after all, and I guess he's 'out' by now, so why wouldn't he have
gay friends. Although, I remember Carl being preppy. I've got nothing
against swishers in the first place, but it's the rudeness that's
offensive. Willie had some friends like this at the Cambridge block parties
he took me too, and they were very nice, but this guy's got a lot of
aggressive attitude that is distinctly unfriendly. Willie and me stand
there stunned as another guy turns around, and says to us, "Hi boys, Carl
mentioned he had some old friends joining the festivities, come on in."
Then, to the first guy, "Chill out, Marvin!" Willie and me exchange
glances, then Willie says, "Thanks, um, where's Carl?" The second guy's
wearing more convention clothes: jeans and a hoodie, with the name of the
college Carl goes to on the front; he ignores the question, saying, "Don't
mind Marvin, he's going through a change of life," to which Marvin mumbles,
"Fuck you, David," and then goes back to shucking clams, and then dropping
them in the smaller pot that's sitting on the grill. I say, "I'm Dylan
Newman," and, nodding at Willie, add, "This is Willie Worthington." David
holds out his hand, saying, "I'm David Cole, the guy with the lobsters is
Shaun Smyth, and Mr. friendly, there in black, is Marvin Carvey; we're all
in the LGBT group at college with Carl. Willie and I mumble, "Hi, good to
meet ya," and shake hands with David, then with Shaun who says, "Carl's
inside getting beers, nice ta meet you," and then he goes back to sticking
the pointed end of a big knife in the back of live lobster's heads. I gawk
at that, thinking, "Jesus, that's gonna leave a mark!" The guy in black
does a personality turn-around by curtsying, saying, "Charmed, I'm sure,"
as he's extending a lifeless hand for us to touch.

Awkwardness follows as Willie and I fumble for a cigarette only to have
curtsey guy do another personality switcheroo, yelling, "Put those
disgusting thing out, now!" which we do as Carl comes out with a tray
containing four mugs of dark beer. He's very slimmed down and appears to be
doing some weight lifting too.  Wearing only a T-shirt in this cool air, he
yells, "The twinks are here! Hi Willie, and oh my God, Dylan, you're cuter
than ever!" Willie and I mutter, "Hi, Carl," and I add, "Nice to see you
again... whassup?" Carl always was good looking, but he used to be grossly
overweight, and there was a problem with acne when he was in high school;
not now though.  His hair is longish in sort of a Prince Valient style,
which is so dated it makes me wonder what was be thinking with that odd
style. He puts the tray down and hugs my shoulders, turning me to face
David, "Did I tell ya, David? Choice, or what!?" and then he and David bump
fists, with David saying, "Choice alright!" and he does a little insulting
pat on my cheek, then nodding at Willie, he adds, "He ain't chopped liver
either." I glance at Willie who appears to be trying to grin, like it's all
cool. For something to say, I go, "This'll be the first lobster I've ever
eaten," and Carl, along with David and Marvin laugh at that, before Carl
says, "No, no... you boys aren't here to eat; you're here so I can show-off
for these three dudes." I have no idea what he's talking about, and so do a
stupid, "Heh heh," then add, "I forgot my guitar," and Willie, catching on
to something, says in a bit of a challenging way, "Whaddaya talking about,
Carl?" The way he asks that makes me look over at him wondering what's
going on.  Carl condescendingly says, "Oh, come on, Willie, don't play
dumb. Lets keep it friendly and have some fun.  Take Dylan upstairs and you
two get in position; we'll be up, two-by-two, shortly... now get going."
Willie stares defiantly at Carl, then asks, "What did Larry tell you about
the last time I saw him?" Carl's acting smug now, very much in charge, like
he used to act with me.  He uses a fake soothing voice, as if Willie's a
bit 'slow', saying, "Larry told me that you were very willing and uber
cooperative for him and Dean, and that's exactly what I want you, and
pretty boy here ,to do; now you two scat upstairs and get undressed, then
lean your chests on my bed, with your cute knees on the floor, and keep
your bare-ass boy pussies up in the air.  We'll all have some fun... Larry
said you loved it like that at his house last month, or whenever it was,
and ta da! That's why you're here." Then as Willie and I stand there, Carl
says to his three friends, "He," pointing at me, "was my protege for the
longest time; he couldn't get enough cock back then, and I'm guessing he
hasn't changed much in that regard... and wait'll you see his
pussy... sweet!"

Turning to go, I say to Willie, "Let's get outta here before I go nuclear
on this bunch of fools." The macho/swisher/curtsey-guy comes charging over,
yelling, "Twinks like you do not talk about me like that!" Perhaps it was
my choice of the word, "fools". Willie swings his fist at the guy, which
results in a glancing blow off the guy's forehead, and all hell breaks
loose. Five of us end up in a pile in the grass with Willie the most
active, swinging his fist and kicking his feet screaming, "That fuckin'
Larry's a fuckin' liar! I did not cooperate with those two assholes..."
Someone gets a punch into my belly and I lose my breath, as the other guy,
the lobster killer, hovers around the pile trying to bring some sanity into
this mess. "What the fuck's wrong with you, Carl? Let them up!" he screams,
as he's dragging David off the pile first, and then David joins him in
trying to separate Willie, me, Carl and Marvin, who screeching like a
banshee, "Who bit me?!" David's yelling at Carl, "Hey, man... you said the
boys wanted to do this. Don't ever fucking get me involved in something
like this again." Carl stops screaming at Willie long enough to scream at
David, "Don't get all high and mighty on me, David! You were all up for an
orgy an hour ago, it's why I called these twerps." David comes right
back,"Yeah, but you said they liked getting gang fucked..." Carl's
sputtering, "Well they did last time," and Willie screams, "We did not!"
and I say, "That was three years ago, and we didn't know any better; you
took advantage of me!" Carl's face is bright red, he tries grabbing me,
saying, "You little liar, it was two years ago, not three," as if that
counters the other things I said. Scrambling out of Carl's grasp, then pull
Willie up, I'm looking at Carl, muttering, "You're a sick pervert... you
need professional help, Denton!". We've all got grass stains on our
clothing, but no one's really hurt, and I don't know who bit Marvin; it
wasn't me. Carl's standing a foot from Willie now, ignoring me, but
screaming in Willie's face again, "You're a disgrace to Sommerville prep
and everybody knows it! Thrown off the tennis team for fucking that little
kid in the shower, and almost getting expelled... you're a fag loser,
Worthington, and you know it too!" Willie's screaming right back at him,
spit flying from his mouth, with tears in his eyes, "You're a fucking homo
liar! It wasn't in the shower and it was my roommate, not some little kid.
I leave the little kids for you, ya piece of human offal!" David's saying,
"Jesus, Carl... act your age.  This is stupid!" But Carl's apoplectic,
maybe because he's being humiliated in front of his friends, and he thought
it was Willie and me who'd be humiliated.  He obviously didn't expect our
reaction, so I gotta wonder what Larry did tell Carl about they're last
time Willie was with Larry. Willie's yelling, an inch from Carl's face,
"And you're the loser for hangin' with an asshole like your cousin.  You're
both sick motherfuckers and I hope you both eat a shit sandwich and die!"
Carl lunges for Willie and they go down on the ground again, but we
separate them quickly this time, with David saying to me, "Perhaps you two
lads might wanna take off now, Carl doesn't seem himself this evening,"
then to Carl, "The fucking cops are gonna be here if you keep this up." I'm
pulling Willie by the arm, walking with my back to the four older guys
toward the gate, and when the hinges squeak, closing behind us, with Willie
and Carl still exchanging screaming insults, my only wish in life is to get
in the car and get the hell out of here.  It looks like this so-called date
of Willie's and mine has reverted back to the bad barbershop level, we're
back to: this sucks!

In the car Willie's trembling all over, his hands are shaking so badly he
can't get the key thing in the slot, but he keeps pushing the starter
anyway, screaming, "Why won't this piece of shit start?" I glance back at
the house, grateful that no one's coming after us; then reach over and
guide the key thing into the slot and the car starts up.  Willie pulls away
jerkily and heads aimlessly around the block blubbering something about
Carl being full of shit, and assuring me that nothing happened with
Larry... nothing like Carl said anyway. I light up a cigarette and guide it
to Willie's lips; he takes a big drag and appears to calm down some,
mumbling, "Thanks, Dylan," and in a much lower tone of voice, "That Denton
is a bullshit liar!" and I'm like, "Drop it, Willie... forget it. Where you
going now?" He goes, "How do I know? I'm just driving us away from there,
and I'm never talking to that pervert again as long as I live!" I keep my
mouth shut hoping he'll do the same.  After a minute he asks for the
cigarette and then smokes the rest of it in silence, the wind from the open
window snatching the exhaled smoke from his mouth and taking it
away. Finally, just to say something, I mumble, "Didn't we almost end up as
boy-toys at a gay club outside Sea Isle City that last trip we took
together?" Willie's like, "Huh? Oh that, ya mean after we went water
skiing?  Yeah, that was a misunderstanding, but I got us out of it that
time too, didn't I?" I go, "Yeah, but that's not the point! Why do we get
ourselves in situations like that?" Willie's not interested in this
conversation, he again goes, "Huh? Oh, I don't know... it's only happened
twice." I'm about to inform Willie that it happening once is too often, and
unusual in the extreme, but twice is preposterous... when, just like that a
light goes on in my head that there's something I need to remember, and at
the same time a light starts blinking on the dash board panel in front of
the steering wheel, and I remember, "Willie, we need gas!" He sputters, "Oh
shit!" and does a U-turn to head back past Carl's to the gas station I told
him about earlier. We don't get a half a block down the street before the
flashing blue lights behind us signal the worst thing a teenage driver
wants to see... POLICE.  If you're talking to the police you got troubles;
they're not in this world to help you, no matter what they say. One of the
biggest crocks-of-shit ever is the "PROTECT AND SERVE" logo on the side of
their cruisers. "Cover our asses, and screw you!" would be more
appropriate.

Willie pulls over muttering curse words under his breath as I'm telling
him, "Kiss the guy's ass, Willie... put on your obsequies hat... be a
polite dork. He waves at me, muttering, "Fuck him..." The windows are
already rolled down and the cop does the usual... just sits in his car
behind us, with the brilliant flashing blue lights blinding us, as Willie
simmers. After five minutes or so the officer slowing emerges, in his black
uniform that looks like swat gear, and swaggers up to stand just behind the
driver's window, then gives the command, "License and registration!" Willie
asks, "What's the problem, office?" and the response comes back, "License
and registration, now!" You know, there's no need for tons of attitude,
just treat us like human beings, like one of the human species.  Okay,
Willie shouldn't have made a U-turn, technically, but there wasn't anyone
else on the street, except the cop hiding behind a parked moving van. I
whisper, "Keep your cool, Willie," and he nods to me, pulling out his
wallet and taking out his license; then he makes a career out of going
through Martha Windell's glove compartment looking for the
registration. And, why is it called a glove compartment, anyway? No one
keeps gloves in there. After a bit, Willie clicks on the ceiling light and
finally finds the registration.  He hands it and his license to the
officer, saying, "I know I shouldn't make a U-turn there, and I'm sorry,
but we're almost out of gas... you know, the light came on indicating I've
got only two miles left in the tank and my friends here says there's a gas
station...." but he stops talking because the officer walked away half way
through it. Whatever Willie had to say is of no interest to the
protect-and-serve cop. "Fuck!" mutters Willie, "He didn't even let me
explain..." then he shakes the steering wheel violently again, saying
between clutched teeth, "I hate this world!"  It takes fifteen more minutes
before the cop returns with the traffic ticket, and why would he hurry, he
has absolutely nothing else to do; there's no crime in this town to keep
him busy so he hassles the citizens instead. In a monotone the officer
gives his canned lecture about the importance o obeying the rules of the
road, then passing the papers back to Willie, and says, sarcastically,
"Have a nice day, William," and returns to his cruiser to arrogantly makes
a U-turn right in front of us, and then a second U-turn to returns to his
hiding place behind the moving van.  Willie disgustedly throws the ticket
towards the floor in front of me, but I catch it, and read, "Illegal U-turn
on busy street," which is a lie, "$180.00 fine plus one point on your
driver's license."

We ride in silence for two more blocks before the car starts bucking, and
then rolls to a stop with Willie steering it to the curb, where he puts his
head on the steering wheel and sobs... we're out of gas. I pat his back,
but can't think of anything to say.  I'm thinking to myself, "Except for
the, now mostly forgotten, sex this afternoon, this has been an awful day
all the way around." And I'm sure it's even worse for Willie because, on
top of everything else that's gone wrong, he'll be heartbroken that our
date has turned into a date from hell; everything going terribly
wrong. After a minute he collects himself, saying, "It's not just today,
Dylan, my life's been a living hell for the past few months." I murmur,
"I'm so sorry, Willie... but lets put today behind us... we need to check
the trunk for a gas can.  The service station's only four or five blocks
away... we can walk it easily" He nods as we get out of the car, and I
glance down because the car seems uneven, and there's a faint hissing sound
coming from the engine.  It's not the engine though, it's his right front
tire going flat.  There a large nail sticking out the front of the tire.
He ran over it when he pulled over for the cop. The tires almost totally
flat now; it was leaking air as we sat here. Willie's got the trunk open,
he says, "I can't believe it, but Martha has a gas can in here." "Any gas
in it, " I ask, and he mumbles, "Whaddaya think?" and I go, "I'm guessing
it's empty... um, is there a spare tire in there too?" Willie goes, "Don't
tease me, Dylan... this day is bad enough." Taking a deep breath and
letting it out slowly, I quietly say, "Your right front tire's flat," and
Willie scrunches his face and holds his breath for almost a minute, before
saying, "Tell me you're fucking with me," and I try hugging his shoulders,
saying, "I'm sorry to say, I'm not fucking with you, it's flat.  When you
pulled over for the cop I heard something, guess it was the nail puncturing
the tire. I'm really sorry, Willie, but some day this will all be a funny
story you'll be telling people... trust me, some day this'll be funny." He
just shakes his head, then screams, sort of a primal scream, really
loud. Then goes, "Okay, I got that out, and no there's no spare tire."

We get the jack out, along with a tire iron, and fit it under the bumper
support to jack the car up; and then take the flat tire off so we can roll
it to the gas station. We're walking side by side with me carrying the gas
can and Willie rolling the tire down the sidewalk by constantly push the
top forward with his hand. Trying to lighten the situation, I say, "There's
this friend of mine who's always telling jokes, and one of them sort of
fits are terrible day today." Willie's not real interested, he goes, "Uh
huh," but I tell him the joke anyway: "Well, this guy's sitting in a bar
hunched over a shot glass of whiskey when a scary biker dude comes over
next to him, grabs the shot glass and drinks the guy's drink, asking,
'Whatcha going do about it, punk?'  The other guy burst into tears, saying,
'This is the worst day of my life. I'm a complete failure and my boss fired
me earlier today, calling me a total loser in the process. In the parking
lot, with a cardboard box with my belongings from the office, I discover
that my car's been stolen and my insurance lapsed last week.  Then I left
my wallet with my severance pay in the cab I took home. In my house I find
my wife with a guy I thought was my friend, and as I'm running out of the
house screaming my dog bit me...  So, fuck it! I came in here to end it
all. I got that shot of whiskey and dropped a poison pill in it, and while
waiting for it to dissolve you come in and drink it, so even my suicide's
fucked-up too.  But, enough about me, how's your day going?" I chuckle to,
hopefully, get Willie laughing, but instead he screams, "Shit! I can't
believe this is happening to me!" I'm pretty sure he's not referring to the
joke, so I look over at him and see him staring at his hand. He looks up
with tears in his eyes, again, saying, "Dog shit! I rolled the tire over a
big pile of dog shit... it's all in between my fingers and smells
disgusting! And the fucking germs!" He kicks the tire over and starts
rubbing his hand in the grass that's along the sidewalk.  I'm biting my lip
because this has passed into never-never, the twi-fuckin'-light zone, and
it's slipped into funny land. It takes all my concentration not to laugh
out loud.

While Willie grouses under his breath, I try rubbing the shit off the tire,
first with a stick, and then in the grass, and manage to get most of it
off, but the smell is still gross.  Who the hell lets their dog shit on the
sidewalk? And for that matter, who the fuck puts nails in the street? Poor
Willie. I give him the gas can to carry, and roll the tire myself, avoiding
the shit stain most of the rolls, and when we can see the gas station up
ahead a mutual sigh of relief can be heard from both of us. Our luck is
changing; it's a full service garage. We wash our hands in the restroom,
fill the gas can and, with it a safe distance away from us, smoke a
cigarette while silently watching a strange looking boy fix the flat
tire. This kid is covered in grease, with a dark attitude to match the
grime. Not friendly, but a hot ass in his overalls, and ice-blue eyes
peering out from a dirty face. Every time he'd turn those eyes on Willie
and me we shift ours away from him; he knows we're watching him, and I get
the distinct feeling he don't like it. We have to sneak looks though
because of his ass, and his body in general, actually. When the tire's
fixed, Willie pays and the trip back is less stressful. then it's a
struggle getting the tire on properly because we're inapt at this sort of
thing, and the nuts do not want to match up with the groves in the
screw-things sticking out from the rim, but we get them to eventually. The
gas is in the car, and we drive back to the gas station where ice-blue eyes
fills the tank, and now we're back in business... on the road again.  The
night's gotten cold with a light rain so we flip our cigarettes out and
roll up the windows. "Nasty out there," mutters Willie, then he says, "We
gotta get something to eat, Dylan, but I'm so fucking tired it's not even
funny.  What a lousy day, and what an understatement that is!" I go, "Ah,
it's over now, and tomorrow we'll be eating on the beach with a beautiful
view of the ocean, and a nice eighty degree breeze blowing through our
flattops." He actually chuckles, then says, "Don't mention our stupid
flattops, another bad idea of mine. I swear to God, if you weren't with me
today I would have killed myself." Not liking the way he said that, I go,
"Don't ever say that, Willie! You've got your whole life ahead of you, and
no offense, but a privileged life at that." He mutters, "I know, I know.
Where do you want to eat?" I spot the golden arches up ahead, so say,
"McDonalds is just fine." He mumbles, "Two fast food restaurants in one
day... fuck, I don't eat in two of them in a year."

This time Willie makes sure he's in line first to order and pay. He orders
two Big Macs, fries and Cokes. We sit at a clean table this time, and I
gobble my Big Mac down... yum! Willie takes about three bites as I'm eating
my french fries, then asks, "You want the rest of this, Dylan? I'm too
depressed to eat." I take his Big Mac, saying, "Sure," and eat the rest as
Willie goes through the day's disasters, one by one, ending with, "Can you
believe this shitty day? It's beyond belief!" I mumble, "Yeah, it was weird
alright," as Willie plays with his french fries, looking down at the table
shaking his head slowly, like he's trying to deny our bad luck today. I
say, "It's a new day tomorrow, dude..." He takes a big breath, totally not
used to bad luck, I guess. We take our Cokes with us and as we're leaving I
see the devil, also known as, Joel Mc Carty, walking up the walk with a
skinny kid about seventeen years old.  The kid has a head full of
straw-colored hair, and he looks younger than my estimate seventeen except
for the three or four day growth of scraggily half-a-beard on his semi-cute
face. Joel's looking at the kid, talking to him; he's got his hand on the
back of the kid's neck and chills run down my spine fearing for this
boy. Joel's still walking with a distinct limp and I get a thrill knowing
that Chubby did that to him. If I were braver I'd tell the kid to run for
his life, but it probably wouldn't do any good anyway.  So, what I do
instead is get Willie between me and Joel as we pass each other at the
door. Joel never looks up, but I hear that voice of his and feel sick to my
stomach for a second.  Then we're outside with Willie unaware of the dark
shadow of near death from my past that just went by me. I shake my head
wondering, "Is this a some kind of omen of more bad things to come?"

to be continued....

Donny Mumford   thinat20@yahoo.com