Date: Sat, 23 Jun 2012 05:18:28 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR  Chapter 31   by Donny Mumford

			   DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR

				Chapter 31

			     by Donny Mumford

Standing in the shadows of the cupola, Robby and I hold our breath. His
cock inside my ass feel warmer than usually, maybe Robby's blushing at the
thought of us being discovered fucking outdoors in this thing. Does his
penis blush too; is that why it feels warmer than usual. I get crazy
thoughts when I'm nervous; like that last one thought I just had. Robby's
arms are around by belly, and sweats formed between his arms and my body
even though the temperature is cool out here as we remain motionless in the
dark. Thank God we're standing in the dark section of the cupola, near the
back. This part is shielded from the moonlight. We're not moving a muscle,
and still not breathing. The voices are right next to the cupola on the
path leading to the front of the house. The path Connor and I didn't notice
when we first got here. I hear a yell from Chubby, thirty feet away, and
shudder at the thought of him finding out about this crazy thing Robby and
I are involved in. I guess Chubby and Connor are still participating in the
shot drinking contest in the backyard, supposedly representing Merrimack
college, or some such thing. Us college kids can think up more ways to get
drunk than you can shake a stick at. One of the kids standing by us is a
girl; I hear her say, "Don't act pissie, Rudy. I told you I had to be home
by twelve. I'm not suppose to even be out; I'm grounded, remember?" She
sounds like a real bitch. A guy's voice, presumedly Rudy's, says, "Yeah,
yeah, you told me that about ten times, but this party is just getting
rolling now." She says, "You are such a...." but they're walking again and
their voices fade away. Robby and I let out our collective breaths as a
wave of relief floods over me. What were we thinking when we thought
fucking in this cupola, so close to everyone, was a good idea? The
embarrassment level would have been off the fucking charts if one those two
had just turned their heads slightly toward the cupola. Fuck cupolas! I'm
done with them. Robby backs his cock out of my ass, the fat head making a
subtle sucking sound when it comes free of my sphincter muscle. I grit my
teeth together letting only a muffled, "Oooh,". But damn, that felt
good. Robby and I say nothing as we're busy pulling our pants up. There are
kids from Merrimack here, the news of Robby and me fucking like this would
be all over the campus before we even got there tomorrow. Jesus! This was
one of the stupidest ideas we've ever had. Robby quietly says, "My bad,
this was a terrible idea." I mutter, "It was me who wanted you to slip your
cock back in me to fuck me for another minute, and that's what almost got
us caught." He says, "Yeah, but it was my idea in the first place, and it's
especially dumb because I got my pickup with me. Come on, we're going down
there now. You want me to fuck you so badly, we'll do it in the pickup like
we normally do, and I'll do it the right way, not some quick rabbit fuck,"
I go, "This was originally your idea, not mine. And, um, I don't know..."
Robby's emphatic as he whispers, "I'm going to fuck another climax out of
you." Keeping my voice down, I say, "That's another dumb idea; people will
walk past the pickup and there's no mistaking what we'll be doing in
there." Robby goes, "Shhh." Then whispers, "No, that won't happen. I was
the last one to arrive and my pickup is the last car on the block. Behind
me is the highway and no one's walking off the highway. I'll do you with
you sitting on my lap so we can see the house; if anyone comes out you'll
hop off my cock and we'll sit regularly like we're talking. Or, better yet,
we'll get out and light a cigarette. It's cool, come on." Most boys would
be satisfied with the fuck in the cupola that we just had, but we're not
most boys. Robby adds, "This cool cupola fuck hardly counts; rabbit fucks
don't count." I go, "Uh huh."

As we're getting our clothes adjusted, and adjusting our cocks in our
underwear, I admit to myself that I'm always up for a little more sex with
Robby, and he's right; this fast rabbit fuck was more like foreplay than
fucking although we both shot off like fire hoses. I didn't see him for
eight full days, so bring it on Robby 'cause we got to make-up for lost
time. I mumble, "Okay, you're the boss," as I follow him out of the cupola,
glad to be leaving it although that so-called "foreplay" was
extraordinarily hot, probably because it was so random, so dangerous
too. And, I liked Robby's take-charge attitude in the cupola, and how now
he's insisting on fucking me again in his pickup. It's encouraging to see
Robby asserting himself, and Robby has a much more fun "take-charge
attitude" then Willie's. Willie overdoes it sometimes, but Robby's just
right. He's much sweeter, and I mean that in the most complementary way. I
know the difference between true love, like Robby's and mine, and any other
kind of love; there seems to be quite a number of different kinds of love
too. As we walk, Robby's cum drools out of my ass, wetting the back of my
jeans. That could be a problem. Robby says, "I can't put my finger on it,
Dylan, but you're, um, I don't know... I can't say you're nicer because
you're always nice, but there's something different about you lately. Like,
I don't know for sure, but maybe it's that I feel you appreciate me more
then you used to, or maybe it's just that we were away from each other so
long. But you just seem to jump, when I say jump, metaphorically
speaking. Anyway, I love the way you're responding to me, whatever the
reason." I say, "I'm the same, Robby. I think, if maybe I'm a little
different, it's because you seem more sure of yourself lately, and you know
I like that. I'm always telling you that I like when you take charge of our
sex." He says, "Maybe it's a little of me being different, plus a little of
you being different; whichever came first, the chicken or the egg, who
cares. I feel our relationship growing tighter; I really do. And I love
that! You're loving me more, I can tell, so that's a good thing. You still
have a ways to go, but together we'll get you there. Okay?" He's being
kinda corny, but it's cool. And, he's only had the one beer; Robby can't
drink, but he can certainly handle one beer; guess I gotta take him
seriously. This isn't drunk-talk coming from him. Wish we could hold hands,
and then I'm wondering if there's some reason he's acting more confident
and in-charge; some reason I don't have a clue about.. Getting near the
pickup an idea hits me: Maybe it's as simple as Willie's sort-of-training
in Key West, teaching me how to be more submissive to my dominant partner
in a relationship. Willie's "training" must be carrying-over to my
relationship with Robby. It's subtle to me, but that's probably because
Robby's no where near as dominant as Willie; not by a long shot. But, yeah,
that must be what Robby's noticing, but what's the reason for his more
dominant attitude lately? I've been staying, "You're the boss" to Robby a
lot more than usual, and I haven't really argued about anything he's wanted
us to do since I got back, but it's got to be something more than
that. Damn, I don't feel like I'm interacting with Robby differently, but
he's noticed something different about me, and I'm definitely noticing
something is different with him. Maybe it ain't a bad thing... that week in
Key West, I mean, because I'm responding to Robby like a good submissive
should and maybe that's all the encouragement Robby needed to be more
assertive. No, there's something else going on with Robby, but what?
'Forget it,' I tell myself. Hell, I'm going to be seeing Willie again, of
course, and I don't believe I'm mentioning to him how he helped me improve
my relationship with Robby... haha. He probably wouldn't care for the fact
that he's making my other boyfriend happy about the way I respond to him,
and love him. Wow, how ironic!

When we get to the pickup I see that Robby's right. We'll be looking right
down the four blocks to the party house and we'll see anyone coming out of
it. There are no street lights on this suburban street, but they have the
outside lights on at the house, so we can see the front door
perfectly. Inside the pickup I bump Robby's hand with mine, saying, "Don't
you want to hold my hand? Then I take hold of his hand and Robby looks at
my hand holding his, and asks, "We gonna be holding hands now?" He's
chuckling, but squeezes my hand just the same. I say, "Yes, I'd like it if
you'd hold my hand. I mean, since you're in-charge, you should hold my
hand, not me holding yours. You know, like you'd be the guy if we were a
straight couple." Robby laughs, and says, "Oh, so you're a girl now?" He's
grinning and saying that as a joke, but it still strikes a nerve for some
reason and I angrily snap at him, "No, does a girl have a cock? It's just
that you fuck me, and straight guys fuck girls, but I'm not girlie at all!
Do you think I'm girlie? How about feminine, is that what you're
implying?!" He snaps back, "Dude, calm the fuck down, I was only joking! I
was pulling your leg, fer chrissakes! What's wrong with you?" Obviously I
overreacted to a goodnatured remark that was meant to be funny, and I was
the one who brought up handholding in the first place. It's because that
damn Willie brainwashed me.  I get very contrite, "Oh, Robby, I don't know
what got into me. I'm sorry I yelled at you, but it would crush me and
break my heart if you thought I was feminine like that swisher gay boy in
high school that guys made fun of behind his back. I want to be worthy of
being the type of gay boyfriend you deserve." Robby looks serious, saying,
"I never made fun of Jorge behind his back; I ate lunch with him many times
'cause he was a nice kid and just following his nature. And, you're the
perfect boyfriend for me, Dylan...  I think you're awesome! But Damn, I can
tell by your reaction to my kidding that you really do love me, don'cha? I
mean more than ever before and it makes me feel wonderful." I go, "Yeah,
Robby, I definitely am loving you more and more. And I never made fun of
Jorge either, I meant the guys macho guys who bullied everyone." He says,
"Well, let's forget this misunderstanding and I'll be happy to hold your
hand anytime. Then he adjust his hand so mine is inside his, adding, "When
no one's around I'll hold your hand, okay? It's a great idea. Hey, is that
why you held your hand out to me yesterday?" I blush, muttering, "No, I
told you why I did that." He thinks for a second, then goes, "You wanted to
show me your fingernails, or something." I go, "Forget about it." But he
goes, "Oh no, I'm holding your hand from now on! Anyway, we've held hands
before, remember when I sang my first song to you on the train to New
York?" I peek up to looking Robby's eyes, murmuring, "Yeah, that was so
awesome and ballsy too." Robby squeezes the hand he's holding, but because
of my childish outburst I've kinda ruined the mood and it's just not the
same feeling that I got from Willie when he insisted holding my hand; when
I had no say in the matter of handholding. Gee, I'd love for Robby to put
me into that weird little boy sensation that Willie does sometime, 'cause
it's way cool.

Robby lets go of my hand, saying, "Enough hand holding, get those pants off
and sit on my dick, then you can tell me all the reasons you're so in love
with me. I'm really liking this new Dylan." Naturally, when Robby speaks
with authority like that it gets my juices flowing; it's nothing compared
to Willie, but it's damn good coming from Robby. I know it's stupid, but
authority in my sex partner, especially the one I'm deeply in love with,
just cranks me up and pumps my tires. And sure, some of my feelings about
that are stronger now after Willie's been "instructing" me as to the proper
way to be a submissive boyfriend, but still... it's all good 'cause it's
bringing Robby and me closer. Smiling, I say, "Yes, boss," and begin the
struggle to take off my sneakers, jeans, and wet underwear in the confines
of the pickup's cab. While I'm doing that Robby's sliding his pants and
underwear down to his knees, He goes, "Damn, this seat is cold on my bare
ass," then another chuckle, before adding, "You know, Dylan, I really will
be your boss this summer when you're working for me, but I can't show you
favoritism because that would be unfair to the other guys on my crew. My
dad has emphasized that to me, and he did that because he knows what good
friends we are and all." I go, "I know, boss, and I'm good with that. I bet
you'll be my most favorite boss of all the bosses I have all the rest of my
life." I'm naked from the waist down now, sitting on the cold seat next to
Robby. I hold my hand out to him, giving him a look, and he takes it
grinning, and moves it over so the back of my hand is resting on his limp
dick. His pubic hairs are very soft. We both snicker about that, but Robby
seems to be getting the hang of this hand holding thing; it's suppose to
demonstrate that he's dominant over me and moving my hand to his dick sorta
is a dominant move. Putting me in my place kinda. I didn't get the
hand-holding thing with Willie as quickly as Robby's picked it up. Robby
says, "I need to get used to the hand holding, but your hand feels good on
my dick, haha, so maybe I'll make that a routine thing." I have an
approving expression on my face, and he says, "I'll hold your hand, little
boy, but don't expect it when we're out in public." Maybe he doesn't fully
get it after all, but he did accidentally drop-in "little boy" just now and
my dick moves on the seat. Robby's letting his confidence grow where our
relationship is concerned, and if he takes it up a notch, what could be
hotter, or cuter...hehheh. He goes on, "Anyway, I just had a thought; I
could be your boss for your whole life. That's if you come work for me
after graduation. We'd still be on work crews for a couple of years, but
when my dad promotes me I'll bring you on as my assistant. Well, that would
be after I get settled in my new position. And in the meantime, I'd promote
you to my old job as head of the crew. I'd take care of you money wise too,
as best I can anyway, 'cause dad's still the head honcho." I go, "You don't
mind working for your dad? That doesn't always works out so well." He goes,
"Nah, I'm not worried about it. Do you think you'd like to apply for a full
time job with my dad's company after college?" I go, "I don't know,
maybe. To be with you, maybe I will." I said that because I'm thinking
about how Chubby and I were never as close once we had separate jobs, and
I'd hate to think that could happen to Robby and me. He's right, I think I
do love him more now than I did before, and that's a good thing.

Robby says, "Enough talk about business, would you suck my dick a little
bit?" Smiling, I mumble, "Well, it just so happens I'd be happy to," and I
awkwardly scramble around getting on my knees on the floor of the pickup,
and then shuffle over to get in front of Robby. I Tell him, "It's much
easier if I get between your legs, but I can't with your pants in the way."
Robby smirks, enjoying that I've been a little different with him since
coming back from spring break. I'm looking at him thinking he'll take his
pants off, but he shrugs, and goes, "You'll manage, just lean over and get
my cock in your mouth." Then he raises his eyebrow, making a face, like
'what's the big deal," then he says, "It's a pain getting undressed in my
pickup."  I'm thinking, well I just did it, but I'm liking Robby's attitude
and want to encourage it, so I merely, says, "Yes, Robby," which almost
gives me a boner right there. Haha, it's almost as if I'm saying, "Yes,
Willie," which I was saying most of the time the last few days of our
trip. That freakin' Willie might have done Robby and me a favor without
even knowing it. Him training me, or whatever he thinks it is, to be more
attentive to my betters... haha. I'm liking this. Leaning over from outside
his knees I get his limp dick between my fingers to lift it to my mouth,
keeping my eyes at the top of their sockets staring at Robby, who's
grinning down at me. He nods his head encouragingly and I suck his cock in
between my lips, tonguing the head, like I always do. Slight taste of urine
where he didn't shake the last couple of drops off, but no problem. Robby
rubs my head, saying, "I miss feeling your hair, Dylan. Can you let it grow
out for me?" Well, just maybe I will. I'll be seeing Willie again, and I
want to, but I'll just insist I want to grow my hair out when I see him;
that's all. I take Robby's cock out of my mouth and hold the saliva laden
thing in my fingers, to say, "I like my hair like this, but maybe for you
I'll let it grow out, Robby." I guess I said 'maybe' because I'm not
positive about it yet. Maybe one more haircut the way Willie wants it; ya
know, until he and I have time to ease back to the way we were before we
broke-up, as opposed to the extreme a relationship we had in Key West. That
was too much submissiveness by me. And having submissive fun with Willie
can only go on until the end of the summer, but I'm not fooling myself,
it'll be difficult to just cut off Willie again cold turkey. According to
Robby it's a growing love, and I think he's right; so, maybe by the end of
the summer it won't be as hard to bid Willie goodbye as I'm thinking it'll
be right now. Robby notices a different in me that he approves of, and who
better than him to decide that? He interrupts my musings with, "It's okay
if you want to wear your hair this way, Dylan, because it's not all that
important to me. I'll love you just as much either way. And your mouth
feels awesome on my cock, so how 'bout you put it back in your mouth." I
didn't even realize I was in a daze there for a second. I stupidly look at
his dick between my fingers, as if I'm surprised it's there, then suck it
back into my mouth. Have I ever mentioned that I like sucking certain boy's
dicks? Then I think of something else I want to say, so I take the saliva
laden member out of my mouth again, and hold it in my fingers like before,
noticing it's much firmer already. I go, "I just wanted to tell you, Robby,
that I love the taste of your cock, and I'm damn serious about that. And
your clean crotch smells exactly like the rest of you smells, which is
awesomely sexy. But, I wish you could shave your pubes... just saying," as
I pull a hair out of my mouth. Robby says, "Right after baseball season,
you can shave them for me; I like the feel of a hairless belly too." I'm
back to sucking away again, giving myself a hard-on in the process; a
double benefit, or double dipping, or something. Taste good, that's all I
know.

Finally Robby raises his ass off the seat with a hand on the seat at each
side of his ass, going, "Whoa! That's enough, Dylan, my balls are
churning. I'd like to cum in your mouth, but I rather get my boner up your
ass." I take his boner out of my mouth and as usually happens, there's a
string of precum and saliva attached to my mouth and the head of his cock;
it breaks and swings down to smear on my chin. That usually happens too,
but why doesn't it ever swing the other way? I lick as much of the of
precum and spit as my tongue can reach, and rub the rest away with the back
of my hand. Robby asks, "Can you turn around down there?" I say, "I'll
manage somehow," and with Robby's help I manage to turn around without
standing-up, not that there's anyone to see me if I did stand up. It would
have been ten times easier doing this standing and when I mention that to
Robby, he chuckles, saying, "We ain't the sharpest knives in the drawer
sometimes, are we?"  "Not me anyway," I mutter. My back's facing Robby now,
so I turn my head and see him take hold of his dick, guiding it to a
position that will hopefully match my anus. "Okay, sit on it, slowly at
first, Dylan," and that's what I do. I do it cautiously, but when the head
of his fat cock touches my asshole, I sit down some more and the head
easily pops past my sphincter muscle. "Ahhh," I murmur, then slide the rest
of the way down to his lap and settle in completely. I can't help but
wiggle around a little, enjoying the feel of his cock up my ass. Willie and
my homies are keeping my pussy, oops, I mean ass, toughtened-up and I'm
enjoying getting fucked even more than I used to; and that's saying
something. I don't want to give Willie all the credit for me enjoying it
better, but he deserves some of it probably. Robby says, "Ewww, my cum from
our first fuck is all over the back of your ass... the back of your legs
too. It's wet and sticky!" and he laughs, then says, "It's worth the sticky
wetness to have my boner up your ass again, where it belongs, right,
Dylan?" I take a deep breath, loving the way my ass feels, and mutter,
"Right, Robby. It's also just where I love it to be." He asks. "Did it hurt
taking my fat boy up your shoot?" I go, "No way, dude, I slid down easy on
it, what with all that cum in my rectum." Obviously I don't want to mention
that Willie broke my ass in the way he wanted it during the three and a
half days of constant fucking. Robby goes, "I'm so considerate, aren't I?
haha." I go, "If you mean for filling me up with creamy teen boy cum
earlier, oh yeah, very considerate! There should always be a supply of your
cum up my ass... we need to try to see that there is." He murmurs, "I'll do
my best."  Wow, this is awesome so I put my hands on the seat on either
side of me and lift up three inches than slide down again, going, "Ummm, oh
yeah..." I can't believe how great it is to have no pain at all while being
fucked. After lifting up and sitting back down four or five times it gets
Robby grunting with pleasure each time I do it, I ask, "Robby can I get on
my hands and knees so you can fuck me the right way... hard, but slow this
time" He goes, "Jesus, Dylan, the reason for doing it like this is so I can
keep my eye out for someone walking down the sidewalk." I whine, "Come on,
Robby, Pleeeeaase. Just for a little while." He lets air out with
exasperation, muttering, "It feels great this way, but alright. Just for
two damn minutes though. You're hellbent on getting us caught." I mumble,
"Am not," and lift off his boner with a sigh. Wow, it feels so good having
a cock inside me. Only four inches, but it's a chubby one alright; fat
even, and it fills me up nicely. Then I think, "Hey, what happened to Robby
being in charge?" If I suggested a change like this that Willie didn't want
to make, I'd get some hard slaps on my ass for my trouble. Maybe someday
Robby will be like that. Then I stroke my boner thinking about Robby being
as dominant as Willie. That would be almost too hot to take; almost.

I get on all fours, balancing on the seat.  Robby shuffles up between my
legs on his knees, saying, "You say I'm in charge, but we always do what
you want." I mutter, "We do not, and you are in charge. Who's doing the
fucking and who's doing the catching here?" Robby says, "The correct way to
say that is pitcher and catcher; not fucker and catcher." I go, "Where's
the second baseman come into the equation?" He laughs, then says, "Like
this," and he pushes his boner up my ass. I go down on my forearm with the
top of my head against the passenger side door. With a grunt of pleasure, I
say, "You're an awesome second baseman, Robby. Oh, your cock feels so good
inside my ass." He goes, "Here comes the hard, slow fuck you asked for,"
and he smacks my ass, then fucks it for a while driving his crotch solidly
against my buttocks with each thrust. "Perfect," I mumble and he smacks the
side of my ass again. Without thinking about it, I go, "Ow!" and get
another slap, along with a hard drive up my ass. 'That's perfect, Robby,'
is what I'm thinking, while loving the feel of him fucking me. Can there be
anything better than teen boy sex? My boner begins moving away from my
belly as it gets harder and harder and a pleasure moan slips out of me; so
awesome! Robby's unique scent fills the cab of his pickup; I love this
fuckin' pickup! And, we got something going for us here at this moment, me
and Robby; we both already had a really good climax and that means our
second ones are going to require a lot of fucking. Oh man, this feels
awesome, and I should be feeling this hot sexiness for awhile too. Robby's
getting better and better at fucking me, and why shouldn't he? I mean, he's
been doing it quite a long time now. I call out, "Ahhhh, gawd, Robby,
you're good! Fuck me faster." He's grunting with his own pleasure
sensations, but he manages to say, "I'll fuck you the way I want to,
Dylan." I love that he said that!

Each time Robby slams his cock into me my head bumps the door, every single
time. My boner's sticking straight down now, as hard as it can get, but
still no precum and the side of both my ass cheeks are burning by now from
Robby's stinging smacks with almost every thrust. Each one is a hard hump,
not rushed, but a strong hump when his crotch hits my ass, and than,
"Smack!" on the side of my ass with the palm of his hand, and he's swinging
his arm from way up there.  Another hard hump against my buttocks, his fat
cock driving up my ass as far as it can go, he's slamming into my buttocks
enough so that my ass cheeks compress, then "Smack!" I finally cry out,
"That fuckin' stings, Robby!" but it feels sexy too. Robby dominating my
ass like this just adds to the erotic pleasure for me. And, I don't want
him to change anything, but complaining about the ass smacks adds to
everything somehow. And the fact I got an extra hard smack for my whining a
second ago, was awesome too! There's no talking now, just grunts and moans
of pleasure. Robby's 'two minutes only' deadline long forgotten as he
grunts with each thrust and slap. Both of us couldn't give a shit less if
anyone's walking down the sidewalk now, our moans and grunts of pleasure
are all we care about. Robby finally abandons the "slow" part of our
pre-fuck agreement, but retains the hard part of it as he speeds-up his
humping of my ass. He's grunting in a whiny way, which I know means he's
getting ready to blow his sperm into my bowels again. I feel my oncoming
climax as well. Knowing he'll be filling me up with cum very soon speeds up
erotic feelings in my balls and cock. I begin constant moaning almost the
same way Robby's moaning; we sound like two cats in heat; then a rare event
happens...  we both climax at the same time. Mine is so strong I'm jerking
around to such a degree Robby's four inch boner pops out and he shoots a
stream of spunk on my right ass cheek. At the same time a hard stream of
cum from my cock hits the seat beneath me with a "splat" as millions of
black dots fill my vision. Such incredible sensations are exploding all
over my body, I whimper embarrassingly, and shake as Robby grabs my hips
and slides his cock back up inside me. He hold me tight and fucks my ass
the way he did it in the cupola, rabbit-fucking. It last less than a minute
before he collapses onto my back, breathing hard. The familiar pounding of
his heart thumps against my back as I get a hand on my cock and stroke it
tightly pulling out the last few drops of cum and feel dizzy from the
incredible sensations of climax. 'Okay, Robby, you're getting there dude!',
is what's in my head as I savor the after-effects of my climax and then the
shiver of pleasure that takes over my body for a second. I shudder and
shake, then moan, "Oh, that was fabulous, Robby. So awesome." I'm
temporarily exhausted, although feeling wonderful. What a great fuck Robby
put on my ass! I'm almost speechless, too out of breath to say anything
anyway. Robby too, all I hear is his heavy breathing as sweat drops from
his face onto the back of my neck. His sweaty head finally lays on me up
near where his sweat drops hit my neck, his arms hug me around my
chest. Whoa, that was the real deal!

As is usual with a second climax, there barely half the volume of the
first, there's much less spunk, but like I always say... it felt as good as
the first one. Sometimes, for me, the second climax even feels
better. Taking a huge inhale and then letting it out slowly but noisily,
Robby says, "We're going to fuck ourselves to death one of these days,
Dylan. I get started on you and in my head I'm saying, 'This is my true
love I'm fucking,' and it gets me crazy with desire; it's the most erotic
thing in the world to me, I know that for sure." He's slides off my back
and sits on the seat, as I ask, "Ya got some tissues, Robby?  I got cum on
your seat, and your cum is drooling out of my ass again. Ya know, this seat
must be covered in our sperm. A girl could get pregnant just sitting in the
pickup." Robby''s chuckling as he pulls a fistful of tissues from the
pocket of the driver's-side door. He hands them to me, still breathing
hard, and as I wipe my cum off the seat. He laughingly says, "That's what I
told Dodger when my pickup got handed down to him and I got my dad's
hand-me-down one." Putting a wad of tissue under my asshole, I say, "That's
funny because awhile back I said sorta the same thing to Dodger." We're
both laying our heads back on the seat, resting. Fucking and climaxing is
exhausting, but definitely worth the effort! Robby asks, "Ya want me to
hold your hand?" I go, "You're just suppose to take my hand, not ask, but I
believe I do want you to hold it," and he takes hold of it, our hands
resting on the seat." Without waiting for him to ask me, I say, "That was a
spectacular fuck, Robby. You're an awesome fucker! ha ha, and I mean that
in only the best way." He says, "Thanks, Dylan. I didn't even have to
prompt you for a compliment this time. And, you have a spectacular ass, all
of it; inside and out. Your buns are top shelf. I can't think of any ass
that's hotter than yours, and I'm serious about that. I'm not kidding
around; what a ass on you!" I can't help but smile, mumbling, "Thanks,
Robby, that's sweet although I really didn't have a lot to do with it. My
ass came with the rest of me." Then I wonder, 'Hey, how many boy's asses
has he seen; bare asses I mean?' I don't ask though, maybe he means in the
showers at school and after baseball games, but what's he doing looking at
other boy's asses? Of course. like I said, I don't say anything... I never
do; not just to Robby, but to anyone I'm having sex with. I'm thinking lots
of things I never say out loud. Hmmm, wonder why that is? Probably because
I don't want to detract from the sexual act we just participated in, or
ruin a conversation by arguing. Ain't I considerate?! I smile to myself
feeling awesome. Robby really gave me a top notch fuck! Then I wonder, 'Has
he been practicing on someone else's pussy, um, I mean someone else's ass?
I bet he has.' Dammit!

We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, Robby holding my hand and I
think we're both enjoying being happy, and sexually contented. I'm those
too things fer sure, plus confused, wondering about Robby's fucking skills
lately. He seems a little more "in-charge" too, hmmm? Finally Robby says,
"Um, we're good, right? I mean we're seriously in love, right?" I go, "Of
course we are, more than ever." He looks me in the eyes for a second, then
says, "You're right about something, Dylan; you're right and I'm wrong." I
asks, "Whaddaya mean?" He says, " You know, about our relationship being
stronger than ever." I don't know exactly where he's going with this, there
must be more. I look him in the eyes, going, "And?" He wrinkles his nose,
then rubs it with his forefinger, and looks away, then mumbles, "It's
nothing new, actually. I'm just agreeing with what we already agreed on
before, or maybe it's something we've agreed on two times before. Nothing
new." I blow out my cheeks, letting the air out slowly, then say, "Do I
gotta guess what it is?" He shakes his head, still looking at his lap, "No,
no, nothing like that. It's just I have to agree with you that we're young,
ya know?" Again I say, "And?" Robby looks at me then, before shrugging, and
going, "And a little recreational sex on the side doesn't diminish us, or
our relationship. When we're a little older, doing that wouldn't be right,
but we're still teenagers." I squint my eyes, saying, "Yeah, for the next
few months we're teenagers. What brought this on, who do you have on the
side?" He goes, "Oh, nobody, fer chrissakes. I mean, nobody that's
important, that I haven't told you about, that is." "Are you referring to
that maggot, Ryan Wilcocks?" I ask, with an edge to my voice. Robby goes,
"He's not a maggot! He's a good kid, he just has a crush on me, that's
all... kinda like Connor has on you." I sidestep that, and say, "So, the
little faggot likes to suck you off, is that it? That's what you told me a
couple months ago. He's still doing it, is he?" Robby says, "Don't use that
word "faggot", Dylan. It's crude, and you're not crude. And please shelve
your holier-than-thou attitude. I believe you just spent a week with your
old boyfriend and you intimated to me, no, you didn't intimate it... you
came right out and told me you were screwing with him. I was pissed-off at
you at first, then later I respected you for admitting it. That's why I'm
admitting about Ryan and me, again. I already told you once about him."
He's right, I lower my voice, saying, "Sorry Robby, you're right. But
really, he blows you, that's all?" Robby hesitates and then says, "No, I've
been fucking him too, but that's only because he nags me, and I kinda like
fucking him when he's wearing his glasses, they get all fogged-up." I say,
"Oh brother!" Robby squeezes my hand that he's holding, saying, "Don't be
like that, Dylan. I didn't bitch at you much for going to Florida with
Worthington. And, I always use a condom when I'm having sex with anyone but
you, do you?" Ignoring the "do you?" part, I say, "With anyone else but me?
There's more than Wilcocks? Okay, I'm jealous, I admit it, but you inferred
just then that there's more than just Wilcocks. Isn't there more, Robby?"
He mutters, "Once in a blue moon, fer chrissakes, they're not even worth
mentioning. What am I suppose to do when you're off doing God-knows-what? I
might give in to very rare wild urge, but I always use a condom, do you?" I
go, "Don't try changing the subject," as I do exactly that because condom
usage is something I don't want to deal with at the moment. Robby quietly
says, "I know goddamn well you're messin' around 'cause you look guilty
sometimes." To sidestep further away from that awkward condom question, I
concentrate on his "looking guilty" comment, and get defensive, "I don't
look guilty, Robby. That's probably you projecting your guilt onto me. He
mutters, "Bullshit!" and we're both quiet again. Another squeeze of my hand
from Robby, which is reassuring. Guess I need to thank Willie for putting
me on to the hand holding thing. I mean, I always liked holding hands with
a boy but never thought it should be an intricate thing between
boyfriends. It's coming in handy here, though.

After a minute of silence that's roaring in my ears, Robby looks at me
again, saying, "Let's not fight, okay? I agreed with your premise, you were
right; I admit it. And, you wouldn't have made that partially open
relationship suggestion if you weren't doing stuff behind my back. Plus,
guys hit on me, ya know? It's not like I go searching for it 'cause I
don't!" I mumble, "I'll bet they hit on you. I can't blame them," then
we're both quiet again. I'm trying to convince myself that this is working
out the way I wanted it to, but that green dragon "jealousy" is fuckin'
with my brain.  At least I was right about Robby being more confident in
sex; he's been getting a lot of practice between me and Ryan and I wonder
how much of our reunion was a result of Robby's guilty conscience. He sure
seemed like he wanted to please me, going a little overboard actually. But
that's in hindsight, I thought it was very special at the time. I still do
think it was a very special night, actually. Hmmm, Robby must be kind of
dominant with that little twerp, Ryan, and some of that's carried over into
our sex, Robby's and mine. That part's good. Chewing on my bottom lip now,
I'm desperately trying to think of something to say, but all I come-up with
is, "We're not fighting, Robby... we're having a discussion." The good
thing, like I just mentioned, is better sex and we're holding hands
now. And, Robby just squeezed mine again.  He mutters, "I could never love
another boy the way I love you, Dylan. Ryan's just recreational sex for
fun." I go, "Uh huh," wondering where he came up with that term
'recreational sex'; a term I've used to rationalize to myself any number of
times; recently, after letting Dodger fuck me, for example. I say, "Yeah,
we're both right about this, Robby, but only till the end of the summer,
alright? Then we need to reassess the situation, but if either of us
notices the other isn't showing true love, we reassess the situation right
then and there. Right? We cannot fuck-up anything as perfect as us being in
love with each other is." Robby's looking at me now, eagerness in his
face. He talks too fast, saying, "Oh, fer sure, I agree totally. But I've
noticed an increased love from you lately... I already told you that. And
you're responding to me better than ever, so I don't think there's any
chance either of us is going to lose our true love for each other. Oh, that
thing I said about you responding to me better sounded too mechanical. I
just mean you're more devoted to me of late. Oh dammit, I don't mean
devoted either... it's hard to put into words, ya know?" I say, "Many
things are, Robby, but this is a very worthwhile discussion. Very mature of
us, fer sure!" He's like, "I think so too. And to be honest with you, I
can't imagine not being in love with you no matter what. I told you that at
our reunion, last night, remember?" I go, "I remember. Our reunion after
eight days separation, how'd we ever survive that?" He chuckles, saying,
"This is no joking matter. Eight days apart requires a reunion!" I quickly
agree, "You're right about that! And it'll take a lot more than you
occasionally having a little buddy sex with Wilcocks, to get me to stop
loving you. So I feel the same way you do." Robby leans over, his face
close to mine, saying, "Me fucking Ryan is barely a step up from jerking
myself off, Dylan! It has nothing to do with love." He means it, but what
if a love for Ryan developed on it's own? It's been known to
happen. Robby's still talking himself into it, I guess. He's saying, "Love
never comes up from either of us; it's just typical buddy sex between horny
teens." Actually, I'm almost relieved he's told me all this because I feel
less guilty now; so, I manage to stifle my jealousy and quickly agree
again, "I have to agree with you, you put that perfectly," and we kiss a
quick kiss. I say, "See, we're in love so we can kiss away the
differences." Robby says, "That's from a Killers' song, but it
fits. Anyway, it's a load off my conscience. I feel better confessing the
whole thing to you. Just so I'm sure, you agree we can continue with our
sex toys on the side for awhile?" I shrug, and say, "You're the boss,
Robby." He laughs and says, "You're a con artist, Dylan. And, you get to
have everything your way, no matter what you say. I always agree to
everything in the end; everything involving you, I mean. You better watch
out though, someday that could change so don't take it for granted." I'm
flabbergasted, "What nonsense! Give me another kiss, Robby. And, I'm not a
con artist. Why do you keep calling me names... alley cat and con artist,
and I forget what the other one was." He's laughing, then goes, "It was
scaredy-cat, and all those things apply, but I love you anyway," and we do
a sloppy kiss after which, Robby says, "They apply, but okay, no more name
calling. Always get your way, don't ya?" but he's joking now, pulling his
pants up.

I sigh because this was such an awesome night with Robby even though he's
confirmed he's having sex with Ryan, and I don't believe for a minute it's
the way he described it as, barely a step up from jerking off,' either, but
I'll let that stand for now. I wish it were true, of course. And, I wish I
could sleep with Robby tonight, but I'll have to wait until tomorrow night
for that; tomorrow night when we're back in our apartment. Wow, that's
right, tomorrow is the last day of spring break. What a break it's been
too! Monday morning we'll resume college life and I can't wait to get
started because in a few weeks summer vacation begins; the sooner we start
school the quicker we can get to summer break. Yeah, this spring break has
been great, but what a fuckin' roller coaster ride it's been for me.  In
hindsight, I loved most of it. Best spring break ever! Robby says, "Come
on, get dressed, Dylan, we need to save what's left of Chubby and
Connor". I go, "You're so thoughtful, Robby," I intended that comment to be
wiseass and sarcastic, but it came out like I meant it, and I guess I
do. Robby says, "Thanks, I'll be outside smoking." I try getting my
underwear on and succeed, but they don't feel too good full of wet
spunk. Robby's latest blast of cum up my ass is still leaking out, but what
are ya gonna do? It makes me smile. I'm so happy right now! It feels so
wonderful to be happy without a major care in the world. Pulling on my
jeans, I feel the front of them; still damp from Connor's huge orgasm so I
pull my sweatshirt down to cover the dark spots, front and back, and climb
out of the pickup. Robby offers me his cigarette and I take two drags then
hand it back to him, saying, "We made some good memories tonight, amigo."
He chuckles, "Yeah we did at that, and confession's good for the soul too"
Keeping it light, I go, "Yeah, I read that somewhere." Robby's apparently
done with the confession part of the evening and he's concentrating instead
on my 'good memories tonight' remark. He goes, "Yep, some new good
memories, fucking your ass in a cupola right next to sixty drunk kids,
haha. We'll be making many more memories together, Dylan; many more to
come, right?" I go, "Damn right, Robby!" and we walk back to the party,
finishing Robby's cigarette.

The party is still going strong, of course, and there's a noticeable
increase in volume as we pour a couple of beers for ourselves in the
kitchen. Then I remember, and say to Robby, "Oops, we left our beer cups on
the railing of the cupola." Robby's like, "Yeah, and so...?" I go, "Yeah,
guess we just leave them there." Robby says, "Along with your spunk streak
on the floor, ha ha." I make a face at that and then chuckle, as we go
outside. The band is on break I guess, but there's lots of laughing and
conversation-noise. Someone is throwing-up in the bushes, euuuu! We start
walking back to where we last saw Chubby and Connor. On the way we pass the
unfortunate one tossing his cookies in the bushes and I recognize my hoodie
sweatshirt on the kid who throwing-up. "Jesus! That's Connor," I say to
Robby. We both go over, and I ask, "Connor, are you gonna be alright?" He
turns to look at me, there's puke on his chin. He giggles, then slurs, "I'm
dunk!" I go, "No shit, dude, ya wanna go home?" He giggles again, "Nah,
you... what was I saving, saying, I meant to save?" I say to Robby, tell
Chubby I'm taking Connor home, see if Chubby wants to come too, okay?"
Robby's concerned 'cause Connor looks like shit: red in the eyes, extra
pale face, and some gar around his mouth. I nod my head at Connor, saying
to Robby, "I'll be in the bathroom, that little one near the kitchen,
trying to clean Connor up a little." Connor looks at Robby, then at me, and
says, "Ho, Dill, I'm dunk!" I laugh, and say again, "No shit." Getting a
hand on his bicep, I say, "Come on, Connor," and pull him with me a few
steps, but he stumbles again, giggling. Then straightens-up, and does the
exaggerated, careful walk of a drunk. Two steps later he says two words to
me, but I can't make out either of them. I'm lucky actually; he's already
done throwing-up apparently, so I don't need to deal with that. He falls on
the steps leading to the kitchen, then clings to me as we stagger towards
the bathroom.

Luckily no one is using it. I guess, by now, they're all peeing in the
bushes. I drag Connor inside the half-bath and lock the door. "Can you sit
on the toilet for me, Connor?" He says, "I think you peed my pants." I ask,
"You think you peed in my khakis?" He looks at me blankly, then says,
"Dill, don't be mistooken, I throwed up." I check my khaki pants, the ones
Connor's wearing, but it doesn't look like he peed in them, and there's no
way I'm getting anything out of Connor that makes any sense. So, I grab the
hand towel, but it's been used too often and there's strange substances on
it. Dropping that, I look in the vanity and find clean towels. Smiling to
myself, I'm thinking, "Where's Pedro when I need him?" He helped me
clean-up drunkin' Willie, and it's a two man job. Wetting the towel I wash
Connor's face and hands, then I spot some goo on his neck so I tilt his
head back and wash his neck. He's loose, like he has no bones. There's some
vomit on the sweatshirt I lent him, so I scrub that until there a big wet
stain there. Right into the washing machine goes the hoodie when we get
home, same for the khakis. Then I chuckle to myself and pull the hoodie up
and look at Connor. Usually boys look hot with the hood on and Connor did
earlier, but he's still looking fucked-up now as his head lulls to the
side. Obviously Connor is spending the night with me. Thinking about
Robby's and my agreement, I think "Geez, I can't even take advantage of
what should be a good opportunity for Connor and me". Life can be ironic at
times. Robby tries the doorknob, then asks, "Dylan, you in there?" I let
him him and we both get Connor under an arm and haul him up. He's stumbling
all over the place, his feet going this way and that as we head out of the
powder room towards the front door. A girl passes us coming in as we're
leaving, she stares at us, but doesn't say anything. She's drunk too, I
imagine. I asks Robby, "What'd Chubby say?" Robby goes, "He's drunk too,
but not this bad," nodding at Connor. Then he adds, "I'll help you get
Connor in your car, and then I'll drag Chubby to my pick-up and drop him
off at his condo. Okay?" I say, "Great plan, thanks for helping me, but ya
better walk Chubby back to his bedroom when you get him to the condo. The
front door is locked, but the key's in the mailbox." He mutters, "No
problem, but too bad our night has to end like this." I go, "We had a super
night, Robby. It's always super when I'm with you." He goes, "Uh huh, I'll
pretend you're not BS'ing me again." I go, "Robby!!! No more name calling,
remember?" and he laughs as we get Connor through the front door, then
Robby says, "That wasn't technically name calling, ya know". We drag Connor
out on the porch, then plop him down on the front step. I say to Robby,
"Jeez, we just left two more full cups of beer in the bathroom. Travis is
going to be wondering who keeps filling beer cups and leaving them around
the house and yard." We both laugh at that even though it's not that
funny. Connor smells like puke, yuck! I never thought I'd say "yuck" and
"Connor" in the same sentence.

Robby says, "Okay, I'll stay with him to be sure he doesn't fall over and
split his head open on the cement steps. You better bring the Jeep up. We'd
never be able to drag him three blocks to where you're parked." I say,
"Good plan," and start jogging to the Jeep, then drive up Travis' driveway
and park so we can drag Connor to the car. As we're dumping him in the back
seat, Connor mutters, "Wha smells, Dill?" I shut the door, muttering,
"Drunks are no fun, Robby." He goes, "Tell me about it," then squeezes the
back of my neck, saying softly, "I can't wait for bedtime tomorrow night,
Dylan." I go, "Me neither," and we kiss a sweet lovers kiss, after which
Robby says, "Well I'm off to save Chubby. Here I come to save the day,"
like those lame old-time Mighty Mouse cartoon on cartoon network. I watch
him jog back down the path, the one that leads past the cupola. Robby's a
great friend and a great lover and I savor the wonder of young
love. Sighing again, I think back to our wonderful time tonight, and take a
big breath. Then I say to myself, "Time to do my job of saving the day, I
mean, saving Connor". Naturally he fell deep asleep the minute we laid him
on the back seat, which is a good thing. As I start the car, I'm thinking,
' Humph, Connor doesn't snore even when he's drunk; I never thought he
would actually'. At my condo I can't wake him and it scares me for a
minute. I've parked in our garage so I run inside for another hand towel
and wet it with cold water. Back at the car I wipe his face with it and
after a minute his eyes open. He says, "Dats cold," I say, "Get up,
Connor... I'll help you." He says, "I dunk," well he's got that concept
down pat. He struggles to sit up with me helping him with a hand under each
armpit. Inside the finished basement I need to sit him on the steps leading
up to the condo so I can catch my breath. Good thing I never got around to
drinking a lot of beers tonight.  It's been a long time since the Irish
coffee, and since then I've only had the shot of whiskey and two beers,
plus some of another, so I'm in pretty good shape on that score. Connor's
eyes are slits, his eyelids cover most of his eyes which draws my attention
to his long curving eyelashes. His father must have been awesome looking
'cause his mother sure isn't. Of course, she's a druggie, maybe she was a
knock-out before succumbing to cocaine and booze. I've got my second wind,
so I get Connor on his feet, muttering, "Ya gotta help me here, Connor. We
need to get up these steps and into my little bathroom so I can clean you
up for bed. He slurs, "Hi Dill, you're cute. I lub you." I go, "That's
nice, Connor, now take a step." Instead he kisses me, which normally is a
very nice thing, but the boy's got vomit breath so it ain't all that sexy a
kiss. I managed to move my head so he only got my cheek; if he hit my lips
I might have hurled too, then where would we be? He's laying against me,
face to face, so his breath is a concern to me.  I've got both both my arms
around his back right under his armpits, so with my legs outside his, I
drag him up three steps. This ain't gonna work; he's dead weight, dragging
his feet the heels catching on each step, making the going uber hard. I
yell, "Fuck!"

After resting a minute, I drag him up three more steps, and rest again,
thinking, "We're halfway there, might as well continue like I'm doing."
Presumably Connor's asleep again. This next time I can only stagger us up
two steps, then one more rest and I struggle up the last four steps
gasping, and drop him on a throw rug in the kitchen. Jesus, what a
struggle! Leaving Connor laying on his side in the fetal position, I go to
the refrigerator and drink orange juice from the quart bottle. Damn, I'm
thirsty, but I need to pee too. Checking the clock on the wall I see it's
half-past one; my mom will be coming home in an hour or so. I got plenty of
time. I write a note for her, saying: "Hi Mom, Connor got sick at a party
that Chubby, me, and Connor were at, so he's sleeping here tonight. I'll
give him the bed and I'll sleep in my sleeping bag on the floor. He didn't
want to go home being sick. Love ya, Mom. Sincerely, Dylan, your favorite
son." Ha ha! She'll get a chuckle out of that. Okay, now for my
pee. Glancing at Connor sleeping on the floor, I head for my bathroom to
pee. Then I wash my face and hands, and brush my teeth. Might as well be
ready for bed before I tackle cleaning-up Connor. When I get back to him I
see he hasn't moved since I last looked at him. It takes me two minutes to
wake him and when he opens his eyes, he says, "Dude, where we been?" I
think he means, "Where we at?" so I say, "You're staying with me tonight,
Connor. We're at my condo, now help me get you on your feet." I struggle
pulling him up, and he does get his legs under him, muttering what I think
is a question, "We have a sleep over with you?" I go, "Yes, a slumber
party. We'll sit indian style on my bed telling each other about the boys
we're dating and drink hot cocoa with marshmallows melting on top. He
mumbles, "Wha?", but he's walking, sort of, and I guide him into the
bathroom, and then sit him in the shower stall. A shower will be faster
than trying to use just a washcloth. "Connor, listen to me, okay?" He opens
his yes, looks at me like he doesn't know who I am, and asks, "Dillyon?" I
go, "Yes, that's right. I need you to help me undress you for a shower." He
frowns, then mumbles, "Nah, tired," so I pull my hoodie that he's wearing
over his head, and unbutton my blue shirt that he's wearing, and gentle lay
him on his back. He closes his eyes, and goes back to sleep. Unbuckling the
khaki pants of mine that he's wearing, and pulling down the zipper, I drag
the pants off his ass, down to his knees. Then stare at his cum stained
underpants for a second, before taking off his sneakers and socks. Connor's
bare feet are nicely formed and if Chubby were here he'd be licking his
lips, and probably Connor's feet... hahaha. Now I pull the khaki pants all
the way off and we're almost there. Without hesitation, I pull off his
underpants and leave him naked in the shower stall.  After staring at his
naked body and five inch flaccid penis and those very round nuts of his, I
bite my lip thinking what could have been. Then shake my head and gather-up
the dirty clothes and head down to the washing machine in the finished
basement. When I get there I throw in all the clothes Connor was wearing,
add some other of my dirty clothes from the hamper, pore in some liquid
Tide, and get the machine going.

On the way upstairs I remember the silk panties I wore back from Key West
and retrieve them from their hiding place. Back down stairs I go to put
them in the washing machine with all the rest, and then take a big breath,
thinking, "This sucks!" Back upstairs I head for the kitchen again for some
more orange juice, then into the bathroom to wash Connor, who's sitting up
now looking around. He must be really, really drunk. Connor says, "Hi Dill,
I need to go to the pee and toilet." Well, thank God he didn't do it in the
shower. I say, "Okay, I'll help you," and he looks at himself, muttering,
"No clothes tonight, Dill." I chuckle and help him up, then over at the
toilet I manage to sit him on it and he starts peeing immediately. Luckily
his dick is long enough that he isn't peeing through the space between the
toilet seat and the toilet's rim. He's looking at me again like he doesn't
know who I am, but he doesn't say anything until he's done peeing. Then he
says, "Thirsty?" like it's a question, but I get the message. Leaving him
on the toilet, I run back to the kitchen refrigerator for a Gatorade. In
the bathroom I hold it to his lips, and tilt his head back a little with a
finger on his forehead. He doesn't reach for the bottle, but lets me pour
it slowly into his mouth. While he's drinking I look at him sitting naked
on my toilet. Even in this fucked-up condition he's a gorgeous boy. His
whole body has the same very pale complexion of his face; beautiful skin,
and his dark pubic hairs are the same color as the dark hair on his
head. Except for that hair, and of course he'll have a little under in
arms, but except for that his skin appears hairless. Connor doesn't have an
athlete's definition in his arms, legs, or torso, but he's well put
together just the same. Slim, but not skinny, a very huggable body, if you
ask me. After he's finished almost a half quart of the blue Gatorade, he
turns his head away and Gatorade spills on his chest, which drips down to
his belly, and then onto his dick. He watches it, then giggles, and
clumsily wipes at it. I take the opportunity to grab my mouthwash, pore
some into a paper cup, and help him stand at the sink. "Here Connor, don't
drink this, gargle with it then spit it in the sink." His head lulls around
a little, but when I put the cup to his lips he takes half of it in his
mouth and does an exaggerated gargle, much of it drooling down his chin
before spitting what's left into the sink. "That taste minty," he says,
drawing out the word "minty" until he's slurring it. Then he giggles, and I
pour the rest in his mouth with basically the same result. Using one of the
complimentary toothbrushes they give me when I go to the dentist for a
cleaning, I pile on toothpaste, saying to Connor, "Open your mouth Connor,"
he opens it wider than I'd have thought possible, and I brush his teeth for
him. He says, "I swallow it," and starts coughing. Some must have drooled
down his throat. The mouthwash cup is filled with water and he gargles in
the same exaggerated fashion he did with the mouthwash. I'm fuckin'
exhausted by now, but feeling real proud of myself for getting this far.

Guiding Connor back to the shower, with him walking better now, I turn on
the water and correct the temperature, then guide him under the water. He
stands there a few seconds with his eyes closed, then sits down. Fuck! I
strip my clothes off and get in with him, and it's very tight because this
is a small shower stall. It's a clumsy project trying to wash a person
sitting down with their chin on their chest, but I get it done, including
shampooing his hair. Ordinarily it would be fun for me to bathe a naked
Connor, but this is too much like hard work. I wash myself after I'm done
with Connor. He's laying against the side of the stall in a sitting
position with his head away from the water spray so I need to stratal
him. Making quick work of washing myself, and rinsing off, I turn off the
water and make wet footprints to go over and get a big fluffy towel,
thinking, "Didn't I just do all this for Willie?" That seemed much easier,
but of course that's because Pedro helped me. And after Pedro and me took
good care of Willie, we took good care of each other... haha. Willie was
even drunker than Connor, but there will be no reward after taking care of
Connor, like there was in Key West with Pedro. What a sweet, adorable kid
Pedro is. Oh well, that was then and this is now, so I dry myself first,
then dry the parts of Connor I can reach before waking him again, saying,
"Ya need to stand up, Connor." His face looks better, better color and it's
probably the Gatorade diluting the alcohol in his stomach and then his
blood stream. I chuckle, thinking, "I know one alcoholic beverage Connor
will never drink again and it's name is rum!" He gets up grumbling
something I can't make out, but I get him dry all over, then help him into
my bedroom where I sit him on the bed, and of course he leans over on his
side with his feet on the floor. That enables me to work a pair of my clean
pajama bottoms up his legs and under his ass. Then I pull back the cover,
yanking then under where he's laying on them, and get his legs up on top of
the bed and his head on my pillow. Pulling the covers over him I
congratulate myself, "You did it, super hero, cheers for me!" Then I put on
a pair of boxer shorts and climb in bed beside Connor. Getting my arms
around him is nice, but this time I'm wrapping him up because of the real
possibility he'll roll off the bed, which obviously wasn't the case with
Chubby my first night back. Pulling him against me in the middle of my twin
bed I finally close my eyes and relax. What a monumental struggle this has
been, but I feel really good about it. Then I wonder how Robby did with
Chubby. I want to go and see if he needs help, but I'm so tired. Oh fuck
it! I gotta see if Robby needs help, so I get out of bed and pull on sweat
pants and the same sweatshirt I had on at the party. Stepping into my
sneakers, without socks, I go outside and up the steps to Chubby's condo,
which is directly above ours. The door's unlocked which means Robby's
already been here. Inside I quietly go to Chubby's room and open the
door. He's asleep, fully dressed on top of his bed. Good! He didn't
throw-up. I'm so tired, I leave him like that, but I'm going to wake him in
the morning, just to bust balls, and say he needs to help me with the
brunch..hee hee, he's gonna be sooo pissed, and hungover. No, I won't do
that. I'm smiling now, thinking about Chubby and all the things we've been
through together. Locking the door behind me, and I'm going back down to my
condo, there's a beep on my cell phone in a pocket of my sweatshirt. I
check it; it's from Robby. The text reads, "Mission accomplished, and I'll
be in bed myself in two minutes. Love ya!" Okay, all my the party boys made
it home safely. Since I'm up, I go to the basement and switch the clothes
from the washer to the dryer. 'Make a mental note, Dylan', I tell
myself. 'First thing tomorrow morning get the clothes from the dryer. It
would be awkward if mom folded the clothes and discovered girlie panties in
with my stuff.' Hey, maybe she'd think I had a girl over... hmmm. No,
forget that! Back in my bedroom I get naked again, except for my boxers,
and get back in bed. Connor hasn't moved an inch from where I left him. Now
I snuggled him in my arms again and spent a few minutes enjoying the feel
of this very huggable, wonderful friend of mine. Before I fall asleep I
wonder, 'Who's gonna take care of Connor in the Army?' and 'What will
tomorrow bring my way?'

to be continued...   Donny mumford   thinat20@yahoo.com

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