Date: Sat, 28 Jul 2012 13:58:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR   Chapter 36   by  Donny Mumford

			   DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR

				Chapter  36

			     by Donny Mumford


After helping Robby shower, being careful not to bump his dislocated
shoulder, I shower myself. Then, while he's in the kitchen taking more
Motrin, I give in to my urges because I can't help myself really; there's
not gonna be any sex with Robby for awhile, so I jerk-off with a soapy hand
thinking about Robby fucking me in that crazy upside/down position. We
first did it like that in his pickup, and then later recreated the
upside/down fuck in our bedroom. Awesome, but there ain't gonna be any more
of that, or anything else, until his shoulder heals... and that's a
problem. It'd be a problem under normal circumstances, but the last ten
days haven't been normal for me. Beginning with Willie fucking me three or
four times a day in Key West, then continuing with Robby's and my great sex
during our reunion, throw in fucks with Dodger, Connor, and even Chubby,
followed by Robby fucking me at least twice a day after our reunion,
and... well, my sex drive now is insisting on frequent sexual
experiences. To just stop cold turkey after all that is a challenge of the
first degree. I mean, it would be for any boy with an active sex life, not
just me. Hey, maybe I am a little more sex-crazed than most, but what the
hell am I suppose to do about that? I was born this way fer chrissakes;
it's not my fault. Before this shower, I haven't jerked-off in months. It's
been totally unnecessary because Robby's been a great sex partner, even
before spring break we were good with our love making. The turning point
though was Willie using his unbelievably dominant, almost constant fucking
that's put me into this state of pretty much constant arousal and I sort of
need it now, not just love it. And why hasn't Willie called me? That's
another thing that bothers me. I'm drying off as I hear Robby groan, then
he yells, "Goddammit! I can't even get into bed without pain. This goddamn
shoulder!" I walk into the bedroom, saying, "Let me put on some underpants
and I'll help you, Robby." He says, "I'm pathetic, Dylan." I go, "It's your
first night dealing with this injury, it'll get better. Sit on your side of
the bed and I'll help support your back so you don't need to use any
muscles that might put pressure on the shoulder." He does that, and I get
one arm around low on his back and my other arm under his legs and then
almost lift him to get first his feet on the bed, then help him lay back so
he's on his good shoulder. He grunts with pain a few times, but now he's on
his side. I use my pillow to support his back so his shoulder won't touch
the mattress if rolls over in his sleep. Then I ask, "How'd we do this
earlier in the afternoon, Robby? It wasn't this difficult then." He goes,
"I don't remember, we'll get a system down eventually. Like you said, it'll
get better day by day." I nod, then go back into the bathroom to brush my
teeth, thinking," Oh fuck! Robby didn't brush his teeth, if we need to go
through all that rigamarole getting him up and then getting him down again,
I'll scream. But, that's not being a very good friend, is it? So when I'm
finished in the bathroom, I ask Robby, "Did you want to brush your teeth?"
Robby goes, "How the hell did I forget to do that?" Then, "No, I'll do it
in the morning, dammit!" I get in bed then too, but every time I move my
body the mattress shakes and Robby does a quiet, "Ow." Neither of us will
get any sleep like this, so I mutter, "Ya know what I gonna do,
Robby... I'm getting my sleeping bag from the basement storage bin. I'll
put it right here on the floor in case ya need me." He does a quiet, "Thank
you, Dylan, and I'm sorry you need to go through the trouble, but every
time the mattress moves my shoulder moves." "That's alright," I mutter,
"Get some sleep." I go downstairs in my boxer short and step into the
storage area off the garage. "Burr," the cement floor is cold on my bare
feet. Naturally the sleeping bag is behind almost everything in the storage
area so I need to move about twenty items before I can get to it. After
throwing the sleeping bag through the open door to the finished basement, I
put everything back in storage, cursing under my breath, then carry the
sleeping bag to our bedroom and toss it on the floor. It takes me five
minutes to untie the goddamn straps encircling the roll-up sleeping
bag. Unrolling it I'm trying to remember the last time I used it. Turning
off the bedside lamp, I crawl inside the sleeping bag, then get out to
retrieve an extra pillow from the closet. Positioning the pillow, I get
back in the sleeping bag thinking, "That was easy... fuck!"

Nothing wrong with a sleeping bag except it's only about one-tenth as
comfortable as a bed and my sleeping bag smells musty, and there's no way
to change the sheets in a sleeping bag so it's like using the same sheets
for the past ten years. I've had this thing since I was nine years old. But
other then those few things, it's almost okay. And how the hell did I
end-up being the nurse for Willie, Connor, and now Robby? And all in the
last ten days! Nurse Newman, at your fucking service! All this frustration
I'm feeling I'll keep to myself because Robby's got enough problems with
his shoulder, he doesn't need me to be grumpy to add to his
circumstance. It takes awhile for me to fall asleep and when I do Robby
wakes me twice during the night, not intentionally, but I hear his moans of
pain and get up to bring him Motrin, then help rearrange the pillows so he
can get back to sleep. What the hell, everybody moves around a lot while
sleeping and Robby sometimes winds-up on his shoulder which isn't good. In
the morning he insists on going to college and I'm too groggy to argue with
him. It's slow going getting him up and dressed, then through all his
bathroom activities, etc.. He brushes his teeth himself, but I need to
squeeze the toothpaste on the brush for him... that's a little example of
things that slow us down. It's amazing how many things we take for granted
that we can't do when we only have one good hand. We're late for class of
course, but the lady professor's heard about Robby's triple that led to his
separated shoulder, so she just smiles at us when we come in, and then
continues her lecture; a number of students rubber-neck to get a look at
Robby. I promised Robby to take notes in class; notes that he normally
takes for us. What a pain in the ass it is to pay attention for an entire
hour and fifteen minute lecture. And I need to do it three times today!
Balls! There are many little things I need to do for Robby during the day,
but we get through it somehow. He says, "Thanks for all your help,
Dylan. You've been amazing, not that I'm surprised by that, but thank you."
Then he insists on attending baseball practice too, and that's even though
he can't practice! He explains, "I'm a member of the team and I want to be
at practice to give morale support to the guys; be a good teammate." What
do I know, it sounds a little like overkill, but I say, "Sure, Robby, just
text me when you want me to come get you. We've got some homework to do
tonight, so I'll try to get some of it done this afternoon. See ya
later. Love ya!" At the apartment it's nice to have free time to myself.

What to do first? I give a thought to jerking off again, then check the
pantry and find a box of chocolate chip cookies and stand at the kitchen
counter eating a half dozen of them, along with a glass of milk. My mind is
on the last time Robby and me got laid and I grope myself, then out loud,
yell, "Fuck it!" and go into the bedroom to lay on the bed. Unzipping my
fly I grab Robby's pillow to smell and jerk-off into a sock. I've jerked
off into one of my sweat socks approximately eleven thousand times from the
age of twelve until I turned seventeen and fat Carl showed me something
better than jerking off. Jerking off is a damn poor substitute for actual
gay sex of any kind. Even being jerked-off by another boy would be five
times better than jerking myself off; not that I stop doing it even as I'm
thinking those thoughts. Robby's scent from the pillow helps a lot and
shortly I arch my back off the bed and blow a couple of nice shots of spunk
into my sock. The after effects of jerking off isn't anything like the
after effect of a climax from a fuck. No, after jerking off it's sort of a
flat, dull feeling, not that I stop stroking my cock for a few minutes
after my orgasm... just saying. Then, partially satisfied, I strip the bed
and put the sheets and the dirty clothes from the corner, including
Connor's cum stained boxers, in the laundry basket and take it to the
laundry room to do a wash load. I did one Sunday, but that was for dirty
clothes from before spring break. Loading the washer I'm thinking that I
saw something in the dirty clothes that might be a solution to my sex
starved condition. What was it? And then I pick-up Connor's underpants and
remembered what is is: it's Connor! Okay, let me analyze this situation we
find ourselves in: Robby can't fuck for awhile, Connor says he loves me and
I told him it was alright to love me until he finds real love, plus Robby
said I was a good friend to Connor and that Connor deserved a good friend
and Robby's also said we need a partially open relationship that we don't
discuss with each other, so why don't I help out Connor and my run-away sex
drive at the same time? I fumble my cell phone out of my pocket and drop it
on the floor, then tell myself, "Calm... the... fuck... down!" Picking up
the phone I call Connor's cell and find it's on answer machine mode. Damn!
Oh yeah, he's still in that late class Tuesdays. I leave a message asking
him to call me... maybe we can get together. Well, not this afternoon
certainly because it's getting too late; Robby might be popping in at
anytime if he can get a ride from someone... someone named Ryan
perhaps. Plus I just jerked-off, but maybe tomorrow after bowling Connor
and I can mess around a little. I'm not bullshitting myself into thinking
I'm doing this just for Connor's benefit; it's equal parts helping him and
partially satisfying my sex drive. This is the perfect time for Willie to
call of course, but oh no; that would be too convenient for me. Willie will
call at a very inconvenient time. If he doesn't call soon I'm going to tell
him I'm busy when he does call. That'll show him I'm hardly as sexually
destitute as he may think I am just because he's not available. And, I
don't know why I'm getting so riled-up. Then I fixate on Willie's brand of
dominant sex and now it's all I can think about. He does a number on my boy
pussy that's hard to match, so I guess I won't tell him I'm busy when he
gets around to calling me. I don't know why I don't call him; maybe it's
because I don't think he'd like me calling him. He said he'd call me and to
wait for his call. That makes me think about feeling like I'm ten years old
when he does certain dominant things with me. Standing in front of the
noisy washing machine I'm pulling on my pecker through my jeans and soon
I've work-up a good boner, which I keep hard by rubbing it with my thumb
while thinking about bossy-Willie fucking me. Lighting a cigarette I think
back to our entire adventure in Key West and it seems almost like a fantasy
to me now. Will Willie be as dominant when I see him again as he was then,
and do I want him to be? Hmmmm?

I stare at the washing machine trying to remember what the hell got me
thinking about Willie. I'm not sure, but my cock is like a rock, a six inch
long rock in my jeans. Continuing to rub the head of it with my thumb, and
try recreating Willie's last dominant fuck on my pussy. Then there's a key
in the doorknob from the outside and a lady comes in with her little
girl. She stops abruptly as I turn my back to hide my tented jeans as my
face turning a bright shade of red. But she already saw my tent 'cause she
exclaimed, "Ohh, gawd!" with disgust, as I was turning. She's a stern one
too, she says, "Hey you, there's no smoking in the laundry room. Can't you
read. Do they allow students to attend Merrimack when they can't read?"
With my back to her, I sarcastically ask, "I'm wondering what charm school
you graduated from?" She snaps back, "Don't get fresh with me young man or
I'll smack your face!" This is a totally no-win situation for me. I turn to
my left, so my back's still towards her, and leave the laundry room without
another word. If she didn't have her little girl with her I might have
gotten nasty, but there wasn't anything I could really do in that
situation. My dick went soft quickly, and I'm so pissed-off I could scream,
so I do scream, reminding myself of Willie in the borrowed car he drove the
night before we left for Key West. Hmmm, now I understand why he screamed!
Haha, somehow that makes me chuckle. Then I think, "That old bat!". Well,
actually she's about my mom's age so she's not so old, but she acted like
an old bat. This hasn't been a good day for me, especially when compared to
the wonderful ten day period preceding today. Guess my good luck couldn't
go on forever. Thinking of the laundry room; heh heh, in my mind I ask
myself, "Where's Scott Tinsdale when I need him?" Then I mumble out loud,
"Timing's everything, Scott". God, would I really do something with Scott?
I'm not quite that desperate yet, am I? Back in my apartment I'm trying to
figure out how I'm going to transfer my clothes from the washer to the
dryer with that witch in the laundry room. I decide to wait long enough to
be sure she's done her washing and drying before I go back down. It's not
that I'm afraid of the bitch, it's simply a situation I can't win or even
break even in. 'It's a loser, Dylan,' I tell myself. Am I the only person
that kind of shit happens to? Probably. I sit down at the desk in our
bedroom and work on the homework; homework I didn't think we'd even have in
college. That's dumb in retrospect, but it's what I thought in my senior
year of high school, 'At least they'll be no homework in college,'. I don't
know why, but homework and college just didn't seem to go together. Sure,
cram for test and finals, but homework? Oh well, reality's a bitch. I spend
an hour and a half on college work and then go back to the laundry room.
She's gone, but she probably spit in my washing machine before she left. I
transfer the clothes to the dryer and then go back to the apartment hoping
Robby texts me soon from practice. And I'm wondering, where's Chubby?
Normally I'm occupied with Robby so I don't wonder about Chubby's
whereabouts so much, but now I'd sure like his company. The rest of the
semester Robby will be busy with baseball practices and games so I'll have
more time like this on my hands and I surely don't want to spend it just
doing homework. I used to watch Robby's practices, which was a good use of
my free time, but I'm certainly not going to go to practice and sit in the
stands watching him watch practice.

I'm back down to the laundry room an hour later folding clothes from the
dryer when I get a text from Chubby; it reads, "Need to take another
raincheck on dinner, luv ya, C". It's hard for me to get mad at Chubby, I
just can't. Anyway, I don't feel like pizza tonight. Robby and I will
scrounge something up for dinner, it's no big deal. Then, back in my
bedroom putting the clean clothes away, another text: this time from Robby,
"Come and get me anytime, Dylan. Thx!" Ten minutes later I drive Robby's
pickup to the front door of the gym, but no sign of Robby. Parking, I wait
five minutes, then get out of the truck and walk inside the gym where I see
Robby huddled with Ryan Wilcocks under one of the basketball
backboards. Ryan's got his hand on Robby's hip listening to whatever
Robby's saying, his eyes fixed on Robby's eyes with hero worship dipping
from the corners. Sickening! Robby finishes, then rubs Ryan's head which
causes Ryan's rimless eyeglasses to fog-up. I'm gonna hurl! I shout, "Your
slave is here, Mr. Dickers." Robby's head snaps around, a look of guilt on
his face. He says something to Ryan out of the side of his mouth and Ryan
scurries away into the equipment room. Robby comes slowly over to me as if
he's in great pain, pain that apparently has just come over him because he
sure didn't look like he was in pain a few seconds ago. Without making eye
contact with me, Robby motions with his hand in the direction of where he
and Wilcocks were having their intimate conversation, mumbling, "Um, we
were just discussing when the MRI results would be available. He's
coordinating that. The trainer took me for an MRI earlier this afternoon,
during practice. Um, they're worried about ligament damage because I'm
still in pain and all..." His sentence drifts off, then I say, in a flat
voice, "I hope the results bring good news." He glances at me, muttering,
"That's all Ryan and I were talking about, don't look at me that way,
okay?" I go, "Yes, sir. You're ride is ready when you are." We walk to the
pickup in silence with me churning things over in my brain. Those two
looked like lovers when they were talking together, and Robby was doing all
the talking so his story about Ryan telling him about the MRI is bull! But,
be that as it may, I'll take the high road and give Robby the benefit of
the doubt, 'cause that's just the way I roll. Mostly, that's the way I wish
I rolled, because it appears I'm giving him the silence treatment on the
ride home... and I'm not pouting. I just don't feel like talking, which is
what I tell Robby when he quietly asks, "Why so quiet, Dylan?".

Inside the apartment Robby takes two Motrin, without asking me to get them
for him, and then asks, "Is Chubby getting the pizza? Is that where he is?"
I go, "No, he's taking another raincheck on that." He asks, "So, he won't
be here for dinner?" I go, "Obviously. If he were going to be here for
dinner, he'd get the pizza because he's trustworthy!" Robby mumbles, "Oh."
Then silence as I busy myself checking the refrigerator and pantry for
something to prepare our dinner with. Finally Robby, who's just standing
there in the middle of the room watching my bogus busy activities, goes,
"Don't pout, Dylan. Ryan and me weren't doing anything wrong." I stop doing
my busy work, to look at him and say, "Did I imply that you were doing
anything wrong? And, I'm not pouting. I told you I just don't feel like
talking." He quietly asks, "Why not?" so I calmly explain, "Because I
didn't get much sleep last night and I had a bad experience in the laundry
room, doing mostly your wash by the way. Oh, and then I did two hours of
homework for us, so I'm a little grumpy, if that's okay with you?" Actually
it was closer to a hour and twenty minutes of homework and I brought the
situation in the laundry room on myself by smoking illegally in there while
playing with my stone-hard dick, but why split hairs. I basically told the
truth, especially about not getting a good night's sleep. Robby asks, "I
know I've been a burden with this fucked-up shoulder of mine, Dylan, and
I'm sorry. You've been wonderful about it too. I'll sleep in the sleeping
bag tonight, okay?" I go, "Don't be ridiculous! With that shoulder? Don't
make me laugh." By now he's getting a little testy himself, he says, "Okay,
then I won't sleep in the sleeping bag! What happened in the laundry room,
if you don't mind talking about it?" I give him a version of it that puts
most of the blame on the bitchy woman, who I describe as much older then
she actually is. Robby listens, frowning, then asks, "Was the little girl
the woman's granddaughter?" I go, "How would I know?" He doesn't remind me
that there's a huge 'non smoking' sign in the laundry room, two of them
actually. Robby goes back to being contrite, and mumbles, "Well, I'm really
sorry you're having a bad day, Dylan," and he comes over to hug me with his
good arm, adding, "Lets be friends again." I make a childish facial
expression, mumbling, "What are you talking about? Of course we're friends,
we're best friends, I just wish we could be lovers too." He mutters, "Not
as much as I do, I'll bet." That's kind of sweet, and the green monster
called jealousy is slipping away from me by now anyway. I turn and kiss
Robby quickly on the lips, asking, "You really didn't do anything sexy with
that little nerd?" Robby puts on his sincerest facial expression, saying,
"Absolutely nothing. If I could do anything remotely sexy, it'd be with
you, Dylan." I shrug, mumbling, "Thanks. I guess I got a little jealous
seeing you with him and knowing he likes to blow you." Robby quietly says,
"Yeah, but you saw how well that went when we tried it last night,
remember?" I go, "Oh yeah, not too good, that's right. Guess I forgot about
that." He hugs around my neck kissing my cheek, mumbling, "I love the way
you smell. I think I'm in love." I go, "You think?" He smirks, and says, "I
need to be sure it the real Dylan here, not some imposture who's taken
control of your sexy body." I try not to, but I grin anyway, saying, "No,
it's me in here," Robby says, "Then I know I'm in love; deeply in love
because my heart feels full, the heart that you own." I go, "Okay, we've
slipped over the line into cornballville now. Let's get real." and we do a
lovers kiss that has my dick turning to stone again. Robby says, "Yep, it's
you alright. What's for dinner?" I say, "Yep, it's you alright, too. That
'what's for dinner' question confirms it. How's your shoulder?" Robby says,
"It feels better now that you're back." I go, "Ha!" and we kiss a nice
sloppy kiss, then I go, "I don't know about dinner yet, I was just
pretending to look for dinner stuff. Now I'll look for real." Robby
mutters, "God, I love you so much. Never change, Dylan. Please, never
change." I go, "Ha!" again, and then check the freezer for real this time.

Robby goes into the bathroom to do some business as I'm discovering we have
nothing useful in the freezer so I settle on two items from the pantry: a
tin of white meat tuna and a can of Cambells tomato soup. I make tuna salad
by adding celery, capers, and mayonnaise to the tuna, then mix it together
in a bowl. Well have a trip back to our youth with tuna salad sandwiches
and tomato soup. If we had cheese I could have taken us back a couple of
more years with grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup; ya can't go back
in time further than that unless it's peanut butter and jelly
sandwiches. Robby chuckles when he sees what I've put together for dinner,
but he eats it all and after dinner we work together on more stuff for
college. We get into a grove with that and spend three hours catching up on
everything, plus we do a project that's not even due until the week before
finals. Taking a smoke break on the balcony, while sharing a bottle of
Snapple, we congratulate ourselves on our conscientiousness, which borders
on Connor's level of that enviable trait. Speaking of Connor, he called my
cell phone halfway through our three hours of college work, but by then my
randiness had temporarily subsided so all I did was remind him that he's
coming over here for a pizza dinner tomorrow night, and confirm that he's
going bowling with me and Cory Dunlevy. He said he's looking forward to it,
so we're all set. Robby runs out of gas just after ten o'clock and we
knock-off the school work and get ready for bed. It goes much like it did
last night except Robby remembers to brush his teeth this time. Then I help
him get in bed. His shoulder isn't any better today than yesterday so he's
still swallowing Motrin every three hours or so. He says it doesn't
eliminate the pain but brings it down to a dull ache. I ask, "Can't the
trainer or a doctor prescribe a stronger pain killer?" Robby tells me he
doesn't feel comfortable taking anything stronger just yet. The sleeping
goes almost identical to last night, which is to say neither of us has a
restful night. I needed to reposition Robby in bed twice during the night,
and my sleeping bag sucks just just as much as it did last night. I get up
earlier Wednesday morning, so even though things go as slow as they did
Tuesday morning, we get to class on time. Tomorrow our first class isn't
until eleven o'clock so we'll get to sleep in. Wednesday at Merimack goes
about like Tuesday, except today after the last class we're hustling
because I need to get Robby to baseball practice, and then drive like a
madman to get to work on time. I punch in at Stop & Shop's upstairs office
one minute late. Rudy goes, "You're late, Newson," and I go, "It's Newman,
and I'm sorry, but the traffic sucked on 114 today, Rudy, and the professor
for our last class went past the bell." I'm wiping my forehead with the
back of my wrist as I tell him these lies, as if I ran all the way here
from college. He goes, "I'm a stickler about you guys being on time. I
can't run the floor until I see who's here each day, and I needed to wait
for you." I again mumble, "Sorry, Rudy, but it's just a minute, I'll stay
at extra minute today, until six-o-one." I say it seriously. Rudy does that
bizarre smile of his, then says, "I'm busting your chops, Donny, you're a
good worker, don't worry about it. Check the board and get to work, okay?"
I go, "Sure," trying to grin, but it doesn't really materialize.

I'm on shopping cart duty in the parking lot for my first hour. It's a
decent day for April in New England so I'm glad to be on parking lot
duty. For one thing I can sneak a cigarette, which I need just about
now. As soon as I'm in the parking lot I collect about ten shopping carts
real fast, line them up and then push the whole line in through the
automatic doors, making quite a racket doing it. I'm hoping Rudy's at his
station in the middle of the floor so he'll see how fast I got this first
group of shopping carts rounded-up. He's there alright, and he looks up at
the racket, then gives me the thumbs-up sign. So now, I can take it
easy. Back outside I go around to the side of the building where no one
parks, except on certain rare days like the day before Thanksgiving when
it's ridiculously busy. Lighting a Marlboro Light I'm feeling pleased with
myself. I lean against the side of the building smoking on duty, and think
about this summer. I've had enough of college life for awhile, although I'm
sure I'll be happy to return next fall. A summer-break is what I need now
though. Then I think about Sandy on the plane to Key West telling me he
goes to Full Sail University where there is no summer break; he goes
straight through for twenty months, I think he said it was twenty. Man,
that sucks! Back to work after my smoke, I go after the half-carriages this
time and get a line of them, then push the line into the building and waste
some time inside pretending to even off the lines of carriages so there's
the same number in each of the eight rows. The hour goes quickly enough and
then Cory comes out to relieve me. He says, "Well, look who it is, Donny
Newman." I give him a raised-eyebrow expression, asking, "Donny?" Cory
keeps a straight face, saying, "Why'd ya let me call you by the wrong name
all this time? Rudy, tells me, "Time to replace Donny in the parking lot,
Carl." I go, "Carl?" Cory goes, "Yeah, that's my new name I guess. Rudy
insist I'm a 'Carl'." I go, "He seems to get the first initial right, so
that's a start. Hey, you're looking spiffy today, Cory." Cory's wearing a
button-up-the-front dress shirt, pressed to within an inch of it's life,
and tan khakis with sharp pressed creases. On his feet are a knock-off
brand of Sperry Top-Siders, instead of his usual beat-up sneakers. Cory
blushes at the compliment; I haven't seen him blush before. He mutters,
"Well, I'm invited out to dinner so I put on my Sunday best for this rare
event; rare for me anyway." I hold-out my fist and he looks at it for a
moment, then reluctantly bumps it with his fist, saying, "I usually don't
engage in the latest dumb fads of the day. Bumping fists is stupid." I go,
"Well, I'm honored you got dressed-up for out pizza dinner, dude; and, as
for the fist bumping, I'm basically a simple minded lad; whatever everybody
else does, I do the same thing. That being said, I agree that it is a
little dumb to bump fists. I'm glad you bumped mine though."

He now returns to form, and rudely says, "Don't patronize me, Newman. I
know I'm eccentric, especially for my age. I just don't like to go along
with the crowd, it makes me feel like a dork." Well, he is a bit of a dork
whether he thinks he is or not, but no point in saying that, so I ignore
his comment completely; instead I keep it light, and say, "I thought pizza
would be just right for a bowling night, but I'm an awesome chef as any of
my homeboys will tell ya, so you must come over for one of my regular
dinners some time too. You'll see!" He makes a face, like he's disgusted,
and says, "Homeboys? You said that before a couple of times; what's it even
mean?" He's a delightful conversationalist, but the urge to use my back-up
comment, of, 'Go fuck yourself' rears it's ugly head anyway. Not an
uncommon occurrence when interacting with the personable Cory
Dunlevy. Also, I happen to know the origin of the term he finds so
annoying, and I can thank one of Chubby's factoids for this knowledge. I
go, "Cory, my friend, the term 'homeboy' originated way the fuck back
during the Viet Nam war. It went like this: when two soldiers, previously
strangers, discover that their actually from the same hometown, they
referred to each other as 'Homeboys'. It was shortened sometimes to
'Homie'. That's the origin of the term and then gang members picked-up on
it later, and later still it's used to refer to any guy who's participating
in the same activity you're in, like going to college together. That's what
it means." The unpredictable Cory changes his tone of voice to one of
admiration, "Well, alright, Dylan. I didn't know that. That's interesting
and I can see how it applies. You and me are homeboys because we're both
part-timers working here, doing the same things. Damn, you're smart!" I
take a chance and put my arm across his shoulders, saying, "Yes, I am
smart, Cory, but most guys I know haven't picked-up on that fact
yet. You're extraordinary in that regard." He actually almost chuckles,
giving me a small grin, before saying, "So, you're saying your homeboys at
college aren't too bright." I go, "Exactly!" He mumbles, "You're an
original, I'll say that for you, Dylan. Okay, homie, you're officially
relieved from parking lot duties. I'll hunt you down after work 'cause like
everybody else, I love me some pizza." I drop my act to simply say, "I'll
hook up with ya later, Cory. Damn, he's actually kinda cute with those two
front teeth a little longer than his other top ones; uber white teeth
too. He looks younger then his age too; another lucky kid like that. Oh
well, Rudy's probably wondering where I am." Cory mutters, "Later,
homeboy," and then he begins gathering stray carriages from the parking
lot. I walk inside, thinking, 'See, Dylan, that worked a little better than
the 'Go fuck yourself' comment would have.'

Remembering today's schedule, I head for the stock room. When I get there
Rita's giving instruction to one of the girl part-timers who's grousing
about needing to stock shelves as she's asking Rita, "Do you think it's
fair that that twerp Rudy is making us girls stock shelves?" Rita goes,
"What am I, chopped liver? I'm a girl, Nancy... I'm an older girl
obviously, but I've always worked in the stock room, so yeah, why shouldn't
girls pitch-in and do their fair share. It's not exactly heavy lifting, ya
pick-up one can of soup at a time." Nancy whines, "It's undignified, I'm
not butch." Rita says, "Yeah, yeah, there's your flatbed cart which I've
loaded with specialty waters. Roll it out on the floor and get these Smart
Waters and Gatorades on the shelves in isle three. Fill-in the empty spaces
on the shelves and neaten up the ones already there. Rudy's assigned a time
of forty minutes so you should be back here for another cart in forty
minutes." Nancy asks, "I have to pull this heavy cart myself?" Rita says,
"No, you don't have to do anything, not unless you want to keep you're job;
the carts on wheels, ya know." The girl snatches at the handle of the cart,
then screams, "I broke my goddamn nail. Look at this!" Rita turns away, and
says to me, "There's the cart you were working on yesterday, Dylan." I go,
"Rudy said my replacement would take over where I left off." Rita goes,
"You kids are a pain in my ass, all you do is complain. If you don't like
your assignment tell Rudy, not me; I'm just doing my job!" I mutter,
"Sorry, I just thought..." and my sentence trails off as I push the cart
out onto the main floor and begin redistributing items that stupid
customers brought to the cash register, but at check-out changed their
minds and just leave them with the cashier. It's a tedious job, and after
twenty minutes I can't resist taking a break to check-out the complainer,
Nancy, in isle three. Hee hee, there she is putting quart bottles of Smart
Water on the shelves with a puss on her face like she's shoveling
shit. Love that Rudy. Then, in produce I'm looking for Matthew, but he's
apparently on a different shift today. Like yesterday, Rudy comes up to me
after I've been doing this for forty-five minutes, and says, "Donny, take
your break now, then relieve the redheaded boy who's bagging at cash
register nine. I forget his name. I say, "It's Alex." Rudy checks his list
and goes, "Ah ha, Alex Mathers. Okay, I thought it was him." Then Rudy's
off, moving fast again. I kinda like him. I suppose, like Cory, I gotta
change my name though, in my case to 'Donny'.  Wonder how one does that?

Naturally I go outside for a cigarette during break, and who should I find
on the bench but my new friend, Shaun Sullivan, I go, "Sully, whassup?"
Looking up, he gives me a grin, asking, "How'd ya know my nickname?" I
chuckle, and go, "I just took a wild guess, dude, heh heh... with a last
name of Sullivan, what else would you're nickname be?" He's like, "Oh yeah,
I see what you mean. It's good to know my future hair stylist is a clever
fellow. Which reminds me, could I bring my little brother along for a
haircut too? I mean, if it's still okay with you giving free haircuts. Lets
say, in about three or four weeks." I say, "Yeah, sure, it's fine with me
except I'll be gone in four weeks. Ya better make it three. I'll be back
for the fall semester though, if you're going to be around." He says,
"Yeah, I'll be around; that's my senior year. A whole year of free
haircuts, that's how I'll be rolling." I laugh, then ask, "How old's your
brother?" He goes, "A year behind me," and then we talk about our school
experiences a little, as I'm thinking, 'Hmmm, Shaun will be eighteen next
year. He don't appear to be gay, but I'll put him on my list of "long
shots" just the same. He's real likable.' The rest of the day went by okay,
I bagged for a kid on the cash register who's good to look at, but who
isn't into chit chat all that much. His name tag reads, "George". Ya don't
see many 'Georges' around. I've seen him any number of times, but never
struck up a conversation with him and now I know why; he doesn't
communicate well at all. His only real comments are, "Have a good one,"
which he says to each customer when he gives them change and the receipt
for their order; plus, he says either 'yes', or 'no', or 'none of your
business' to any question or conversation-starter I try. At the end of my
shift I drop off my Stop & Stop apron, the one we all need to wear, and
sign out as 6:01. It's more like 6:05 but maybe it'll get a smile from
Rudy, if he even remembers who I am. Then on my way down the steps, Cory's
coming up. "I'll be right down, Dylan," I go, "Dude!" and wait for him at
the front door thinking he seems nervous about something. He comes down two
minutes later with a nice sweater over his dress shirt. Damn, I feel bad
for him again. He got dressed-up to come over to a college kid's apartment
for dinner. We'll all be wearing sweatpants or worse. I mean, we're only
eating pizza and then going bowling! This dressing-up thing of Cory's
reminds me of something Connor would do. I say to Cory, "I'm driving my
friend's pickup today. My best friend and I share a Jeep together, but he's
got it today. Well, heh heh, we shared the price of it together, at least;
I don't get to use it too much." He asks, "Why not if you paid for half of
it?" I explain, "Because he needs it more than me. Like I said, I got the
use of the pickup, or my boy, er, my friend drives me places I need to
be. So I've got a ride, so ta speak." He frowns, "So ta speak? What's that
mean?" I say, "I don't know, something like, 'that sort of thing', I
guess." He holds up his hand, palm out, like, 'never mind ', saying, "I'm
sorry I asked that. It's just the way you talk; my bad." Man, I can't
figure him out.

In the pickup, he says, "You're a good guy, Dylan, and I'm the asshole, but
still... I shouldn't have agreed to come over for dinner. I'm not good at
this kind of thing, I'm socially challenged is how I guess a psychiatrist
would put it." I say, "We're all socially challenged, Cory, some of us just
hide it better, that's all." He goes, "No, I mean I have a touch of
Asberger syndrome, in addition to my CF. I'm not a lucky person." I go
"Assburger? What's that?" He goes, "Not assburger, it's pronounced,
As-ber-gers. It's a mild form of autism, there's all levels of it and
thankfully mine is limited to being socially inapt, I guess you could say,
so ta speak. Plus, certain food textures revolt me." I don't know what
autism is either, but this could go from one word I don't know to the next
indefinitely. So I merely say, "I'm real sorry, Cory. It's something you're
born with, huh?" He mumbles, "Yeah, aren't I a real treat; a barrel of
monkeys worth-of-fun."  I go, "Nobody but you cares about that, Cory; it
might make you uncomfortable, but I like you and so will the other dudes
too." He mutters, "I doubt it, but I'm sticking close to you. I'll be like
gum on your shoe." I go, "Sure Cory, feel free, dude; that's cool." He
fidgets during the drive, looking pale so I guess it's a hard thing for him
to do; meeting new guys. Jeez, the demons some people silently battle,
things that most of us can't even imagine. Cory's probably under extreme
pressure about this evening, but he's showing courage in trying to work
through it. Yeah, that's probably it; this is a courageous step for
him. I'll try to make it as easy for him as I can, but I'm worried about
Chubby. Robby and Connor are a little shy around people they don't know,
although once they know them they're fine; well, Robby is at
least. Probably not that easy for Cory; as a matter of fact, being Cory
doesn't seem easy at all. Chubby doesn't know what the word 'shy' even
means, he totally can't relate to it; it's an incomprehensible concept to
him. I say to Cory, "Oh, we're picking-up another friend of mine, Connor
Neary. He's a little shy, so don't mistake that for him being aloof or
something. He's about as far from aloof as you can get. He's just quiet."
Cory speaks in a tight voice, maybe from nerves, saying, "Ah, a kindred
spirit. Of mine, I mean, not yours. I wish I had your personality,
Dylan. And, I wasn't taking a shot at you with that remark." I go, "Thanks,
but I'm shy at times too, just not always. It's funny with me; sometimes I
can be outgoing and then other times I can't. Like if someone's really loud
or pushy, I'm not good with that kind of situation. I usually wind-up in a
fight with the guy, actually. But that's only after I've been pushed over
the edge and I snap, ya know?" He mutters, "No, not really; I've never been
in a fight in my life." Well, that surprises me; I mean, considering his
rather negative and outspoken outlook on so many things you'd think he
might get in a fight or two every other day. But, as usual, I don't say
anything; what good would that do. I'll take him at his word.

Connor's waiting outside his dorm when I pull-up. I'd have been shocked if
he weren't waiting outside, and that's because he's so freakin' considerate
about everything. I take hold of Cory's arm, and his whole body stiffens. I
quietly say, "Can you move over closer to me so Connor can get in?" Cory
looks at me quickly, then he goes, "Yeah I can do that. Sorry I flinched
there for a second when you grabbed my arm, I'm not used to being touched
my anyone." I say, "That's a shame." He looks at me again, quickly, with a
look on his face like, 'Why's it a shame?', but Connor's climbing in so
Cory now needs to deal with that, I suppose. When Connor shuts the door, he
holds his hand out to Cory, quietly saying, "Hi, I'm Connor Neary. You must
be Cory, nice to meet ya. Dylan said it'd be okay if I joined him and you
bowling tonight. I hope you don't mind." Cory sort of does a quick
handshake, asking, "Why would I mind?" defensively. Pure Cory Dunlevy stuff
right there. I say, "Yo, Connor, looking good, dude!" He goes, "Look who's
talking," and Cory now takes a look at Connor, then at me, but he doesn't
comment. I carry the conversation on from there, jabbering about Cory's
skill at candlepins and how Connor and I went candlepin bowling long ago
and that it won't surprise you, Cory, that Connor's better than
me. Hahaha. Like that. It's a short ride mercifully. Robby texted me at
work that he's got a ride, so he'll see us at the apartment. I didn't ask
who was given him the ride because I'm afraid it'd be Ryan, and I don't
want to think about that. I know Ryan has his mother's car at Merrimack for
the last four weeks of this semester, so he's got a car at his disposal now
too. Too bad Robby's got the dislocated shoulder, Ryan! No hanky panky in
your mom's car, ya turd. In the apartment Robby's at the kitchen bar,
looking a little better. I introduce Cory and Robby to each other, and
Robby holds his fist out instead of his hand. Cory smirks at me, with a
little grin, and then bumps fists with Robby. That smirk and grin are
encouraging. Robby tells us about the MRI images; they're all positive,
meaning there's no ligament damage in the shoulder, although it isn't much
better today. The trainer told Robby that in a day or two he should be
feeling noticeably less pain. Connor, Robby, and I are all dressed in the
same uniform; sweat shirts with hoods and sweatpants in colors ranging only
from blue to black to gray. No one comments on Cory's outfit, thank God. He
hasn't said anything since the introductions, which is probably a good
thing because Cory spends a little too much time criticizing some of the
things I say, but he's apparently not comfortable enough to do it to Robby
or Connor... yet. I ask, "Where the fuck is Chubby?" Robby shrugs, "Didn't
he text you, Dylan?" I go, "No, but he'd better be getting pizzas!" Robby
says, "Connor, ya got a joke for us?  Connor shrugs, then says, "I do have
a couple," and he asks: "Does anyone know how many evolutionist it take to
screw in a lightbulb?" We all go, "How many?" Connor says, "Well, it only
takes one, but it takes him nine million years to do it." We roll our eyes,
and Robby asks, "That's it Connor? That's your joke?" Connor blushes,
mumbling, "I knew that one would be a bomb. How 'bout this one":

"Two priest are in the shower together when they realize there's no
soap. One of the priests says, 'There's soap in my room. I'll get us a
couple of bars.' Without dressing, he walks to his room and grabs a bar of
soap in each hand and walks back toward the shower. In the hall he's
shocked to see three nuns visiting unexpectedly. With no place to hide, he
stands with his back against the wall and freezes, like he's a statue. The
nuns approach him, very curious about the naked statue. They comment to
each other how real it looks. One nuns grins, then reaches over and pulls
on the priest's dick, which startles him and he drops a bar of soap. A nun
says, 'Oh, it's a life-like soap dispenser'. The next nun frowns, saying,
"How strange,' and she pulls on his cock too. Sure enough he drops the
other bar of soap. The third nun mutters, 'I may as well get a bar too,'
and she pulls on his dick, but no soap. She says, 'I think it's stuck,' and
she yanks on the priest dick five or six more times, then exclaims, 'Jesus,
Mary, and Joseph, it's a hand cream dispenser too!'

We groan, and Connor blushes, mumbling, "They can't all be laugh-out-loud
jokes. Some are groaners, ya know?" Then there's a key in the door and in
burst Chubby, energy bouncing off him. He looks at us standing there, as he
says, "What the fuck, the band's all back together again, I see! How you
boys, doing?" Then, pointing to Cory, "Who's this?" I go, "Chubby, meet my
friend from Stop & Shop, Cory Dunlevy. Cory this is Jeffrey Romero, also
known by his friends as 'Chubby'." Chubby gets Cory around the shoulders,
saying, "Dude, it's good to meet ya, but whaddya all dressed-up for, you
going to church?" I go, "Chubby!" Then I make-up a lie, saying, "I mislead
Cory; I told him I was fixing a big dinner, sorta, and he was polite enough
to dress-up for it, which I think is very flattering." Chubby goes, "Oh!
Well, no offense Cory, ya look good, dude!" Then to me, "Whatcha tell him
that for, Dylan. Embarrass the kid like that." I go, "Me embarrass him? I
didn't purposely mislead him, did I, Cory? I shoulda told ya it was pizza."
Cory frowns, saying, "I'm not embarrassed," which leaves unanswered why
he's blushing, but I leave that alone, and ask Chubby," Where's the pizza?"
He says, "I'm considerate, Dylan. That's how I roll! I came here first to
find out what everyone wants on their pizza." Robby says, "How 'bout
mushrooms?" Chubby says, "I'll be picking-up three large pizzas, ya thing
that'll be enough?" I go, "To be safe, get three large and one small. If
there's any left over we'll have pizza for breakfast!" Chubby says, "You're
a fuckin' genius! Okay, mushroom on one of the halves, what else?" I give
my choice, "Pepperoni for me. How 'bout you Connor?" Connor says, "Whatever
there's the most of is fine with me." Chubby comes over to put his arm
around Connor's shoulders, like he did with Cory, and says, "Yes, of course
it would be, Connor, but if you had to pick an ingredient for your last
slice of pizza ever, what would you want on it, dude?" Connor gulps,
blushing slightly 'cause we're all looking at him. He's thinking, then
gulps, "Would Italian sausage be okay with everyone?" Chubby lets go of
Connor, muttering, "Not for me, Connor, but it's just right for you. Okay,
we got mushrooms on one half, sausage on another half, and Dylan's half
gets pepperoni. What's your choice Cory?" He mumbles, "Anchovies," and
Chubby says, "Um, stop jobbing me, dude; nobody ever gets anchovies on
anything. Whaddaya really want?" I say, "He just told ya what he wants,
what are you getting on your half, that's the question?" Chubby goes,
"Hmmm, the pressures on I see." Then he says an aside to Cory, "Guess you
know by now from working with him, that Dylan's a bit of a prick
sometimes." I go, "Chubby! Be good, for once." Cory's looking at Chubby
like he's an alien from outer space. Chubby says, enjoying being the center
of attention, "I like to roll a little on the wild side where pizza's
concerned, so I'm going with double cheese. It's brash of me, I know... but
double cheese pizza, while not unheard of, is a tad unusual and to be even
more adventurous, I sprinkle hot pepper flakes on each slice before eating
it. Crazy huh?" I'm rolling my eyes, then say, "Okay, that concludes his
performance for this evening, and if there's a God in heaven, Elvis, er,
Chubby, has left the building." Chubby goes, "Not so fast, Dylan. I need a
wing man on this trip. I can't handle all these pizzas, plus my surprise
ingredient by myself. Look at my size fer chrissakes!" I go, "Well don't
look at me, I made dinner three nights in a row." Connor surprises me with
his hot shit remark, saying, "And I told two killer jokes, so I'm
exhausted." Robby just nods at his arm in the sling, mumbling, "Don't look
at me." Chubby's grinning, looking at us, then turns on Cory, his arm going
around Cory's neck pulling Cory's head over to bump Chubby's, as he's
saying, "Looks like it's you and me, dude!" Cory gets red in the face,
looking extremely uncomfortable, so I say, "I'll go with you,
Chubby. Cory's our guest." Then Cory surprises me by saying, "No, Dylan, I
want to go with Jeffrey. I wanna do my part like everyone else." Chubby
says, "It's Chubby, if ya don't mind, Cory. Let's saddle up partner, we're
the perfect team." Perfect odd couple would be more like it, but I keep
that thought to myself.

Then Chubby goes looking for his car keys, which is strange even for
Chubby, because he just came in with the keys ten minutes ago. I give Cory
a look, asking, "Really? I don't mind going." He says, "I need to go,
Dylan. I'm good with it," I nod, but say no more. It probably takes a lot
of guts for Cory to go with Chubby, but good for him! Chubby's back out of
his bedroom, saying, "Ah ha, the elusive keys," as he plucks them off the
kitchen bar where he threw them when he came in. He gets a hand behind
Cory's neck to give a squeeze, saying, "Let's roll, amigo," and out the
door they go, with Chubby telling Cory some bullshit story about the time
he and I were in Mexico and we ordered pizza at a.... but that's all I hear
before the door closes behind them. I glance at Robby, who gives me a
smirk, like, "Whaddaya gonna do? It's Chubby..." I ask, "How's the
shoulder?" He says, "The same. I'm trying to block it from my mind, but it
ain't easy. I'll never slide into third base like that again. Good lesson
learned." I'm nodding, impressed at his attitude, but that's Robby for
ya. A day of feeling sorry for his bad luck, then he turns it into a good
lesson learned. Of course, that ain't helping our sex life any, but ya
can't have everything. Connor, Robby and I go out on the balcony for a
cigarette. I tell them about not smoking around Cory, and the reason for
that. Then ask if anyone knows what Asperger's Syndrome is? No one's ever
heard of it. Nobody knows what autism is either, although Robby thinks it
has something to do with "idiot savants", like Dustin Hoffman portrayed in
the movie "Rain Man". Connor says, "I never heard of that movie," I go,
"Neither have I," and Robby explains he and Dodger were surfing channels
for something to watch on cable TV and they caught a scene where Dustin
Hoffman was spouting off mathematic solutions off the top of his head, but
was kinda unable to even take care of himself otherwise. They watched the
rest of the movie thinking it was suppose to be funny. "I think it was Tom
Cruise too, although he looked very young, not like he looks in the
"Mission: Impossible" series." We talk about how odd it is for someone to
be a freaky-genius in one area and incompetent in all the other aspects of
life. It must be rare. Robby ask, "Hey, Dylan, I don't have anything to do
tonight, do ya mind if I come with you guys to watch ya bowl?" I rub his
back, saying, "Are you crazy? Do I mind, I'd love it," and I give him a
kiss, as Connor does one of my fake coughs, pretending he dropped his
cigarette. Robby squeezes the back of Connor's neck, something we all do to
each other to show affection, as he's saying, "Hope we don't embarrass you
too much, Connor, but we're in L-O-V-E, love, dude." Connor shrugs,
mumbling, "It doesn't embarrass me; more like it makes me jealous." Robby
gives me a questing look, which I return with a questioning look of my own,
like "I don't know!" I guess Connor doesn't feel he needs to be in the
closet with two gay boys like Robby and me, but he hasn't come right out
and told Robby he's gay, so I'm not gonna out him; that's his business.

A half hour later Robby, Connor, and me are kibitzing in the kitchen when
Chubby and Cory come bounding in the room. Cory's laughing about
something. He looks calm, so he's survived his adventure with Chubby quite
well. I knew Chubby would gain Cory's trust, but I didn't want to force it
on Cory. He said he wanted to go with Chubby though... and it's turned-out
okay. Cory's carrying three big boxes of pizzas, with a smaller box on top
of the big ones. Chubby's got a cooler, he goes, "We stopped at Tracy's to
buy some beer; pizza and beer, what could be better!" We all go, "Way to
roll, Chubby!" but for myself, I'd rather have a soda. Not that I'm an
individual enough to buck the group though; I drink beer with the pizza
like everyone else. We open the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter and they
just fit. Everyone grabs a slice of their favorite and the eating and ball
busting begins. At one point Cory even chirps in with, "Here's how dumb I
am; because of the familiar way Chubby talked with the guys making the
pizzas and the other customers in the store, I thought, 'Jesus, he knows
everybody!' and then he tells me in the Jeep, 'Nah, I never met any of them
before in my life!' Man, I wish I had the confidence to roll like that." We
chuckle, with Connor saying, "Me too, Cory." Chubby wants to know, "What
the fuck ya talking about? All I did was kill some time BSin' with some
stranger dudes. It passes the time and ya find out some stuff once in a
while too. Hey, I'm outgoing, it's the way I roll." I noticed Cory used
that phrase too, when he said, "roll like that" which is exactly the kind
of thing he's always complaining about when I say something similar. So
that's progress. We eat the three large pizzas and then force ourselves to
all have a piece of the small one, which still leaves a couple of pieces
for tomorrow's breakfast. Done eating, I burp, then announce, "We got a
problem, Houston," which is a line in the mission-to-the-moon movie. I
explain, "We got four guys going to the bowling alley in a pickup that can
only handle three. Whadda we going do about that?" Chubby says, "Somebody
sits on somebodies' lap. There, I solved your problem, now I gotta hit the
road. Many girls await my arrival." I go, "Oh brother! You going out with
her again tonight?" He goes, "Yep! I'm on my lucky streak; gotta run out
the streak. Hope my pecker holds up!" Connor laughs nervously and Cory
looks at Chubby, like, "He's the man!". Humph! I go, "Good luck with your
mission, Chubby, and thanks for the pizza and beer, dude... you outdid
yourself tonight! I'm proud of ya." He's headed to his bedroom to change,
muttering, "Ya sound like I don't do this kinda thing regularly." I yell
after him, "Maybe that's because ya don't!" Cory goes, "Oh, Chubby said he
does this once a week; I was wicked impressed by that." Robby laughs, "Um,
no, I'm his roommate and I gotta back Dylan on this point. It's a first for
Chubby. He's usually borrowing money, but we wouldn't want him any other
way. Right, Dylan?" I go, "Yeah, you got that right. But enough about my
bro. I'm driving, who's sitting on who's lap?" Robby says, "Not me, not
with my shoulder." Connor says, "I'll sit on Cory," but Cory contradicts,
"No Connor, I'm the smallest one here, I'll, gulp, sit on your lap if it's
okay with you." I'm thinking, "Hmmmm, could this be the start of something
big?"

I'm in the driver's seat, Robby needs the shotgun seat so he's near the
door and there's only half the chance someone will accidentally bump him
there as compared to sitting in the middle. That leaves Connor in the
middle with Cory, who doesn't like to be touched, sitting on Connor's
lap. Naturally there's nervous giggling from the two in the middle, but I'm
thinking that at least one of them is enjoying himself quite a bit. It's
probably too much to hope that they both are. Cory's surprising me by being
as outgoing as he's been thus far, and then at the bowling alley he
actually appears to be having a lot of fun. It of course helps that he's by
far the best bowler in our group. In his third string he bowls a
one-twenty-four which he's thrilled about, and shows it. No false modesty,
he's excited. Connor bowls two strings in the seventies with Cory giving
him constant tips, and then Connor makes Cory proud by bowling an
eighty-eight in the last frame. I tried my ass off, probably tried too
hard, but never got out of the sixties for a score. I'm bitchin' that
there's something wrong with the rental shoes I'm wearing. Robby, who
obviously can't bowl because of his shoulder, rubs my back, whispering,
"Forget the shoes, you suck, dude; you're embarrassing me." But he's just
bustin' my chops, and he laughs after he says it. All night Connor and Cory
hang together with a lot to say to each other. Robby and me talk quietly
and then get the giggles because we're finding different ways to
accidentally-on-purpose touch each other without announcing outright that
we're gay lovers. Cory doesn't pay too much attention to us, thankfully. I
don't think he picked-up on the vibes. It was a fun night and a smashing
success were Cory's concerned, so I'm feeling really good about this whole
deal. In hindsight it was Chubby who brought Cory out of his shell, as only
Chubby can; and I'm grateful for that. Cory asked to be dropped off first;
his high school begins with homeroom at eight o'clock in the morning. He
doesn't say anything to me about dropping him off away from his run-down
apartment complex, which is another thing that makes be feel good for
him. On the ride there he's relaxed in Connors lap, laying back against
Connor's chest, building my hopes that maybe something will develop between
them although it's a very slight chance. For one thing Cory's only
seventeen and for another he's proclaimed to me, the first time I met him,
that he's got a problem with homosexuals, whatever that's worth. And, of
course, Connor's going in the Army in a month, so the chances are slim and
none. In any case, it was a good night for all of us. At Cory's apartment
Connor murmurs, "Your apartment is a lot like the one my mother and I live
in back home." Cory goes, "Really?" Connor goes, "Yep, yours is better
actually. We all aren't lucky like Robby and Dylan." I go, "Robby, anyway."
There's some chuckling when Cory's crawling off Connor's lap. Robby gets
out 'cause he doesn't want to get jostled. Connor smack Cory on the ass as
he's getting out of the pickup, which is unexpected. Cory laughs, doing a
fake, 'Ow!' so that went okay. We say goodbye, and Cory goes, "Thanks a
million, Dylan. You were right, it didn't suck! Thanks guys, see ya!" He's
a happy camper, damn I feel good about that!. After we drop Connor at his
dorm and he gets done thanking us for everything from the pizza to the
oxygen he's breathed tonight, and I'm driving away, Robby says, "I don't
care how much pain it causes, I gotta fuck you tonight, Dylan, I just
gotta." I say, "You won't get an argument from me about that, Robby," and I
pat his thigh near his dick making him chuckle, then say, "No way can I do
it in here though; it's gotta be our bedroom." I go, "I'm good with that!"

We have a cigarette on the balcony when we get back to our apartment. It's
only the second one I've had since the one I snuck during parking lot duty
at work. Cory keeps the smoking to a minimum. Robby says, "I'll probably be
bitching about my shoulder, Dylan, but we're going to keep going. I'm
missing out intimate times together; it's brutal not having a sexy time
with you, ya know?" I go, "Tell me about it, I resorted to straggling my
snake. That sucks in comparison to you doing my ass up right." Robby drags
on his cigarette, then talks as the smoke drifts out of his nose and mouth,
"Especially when we got in a rhythm of doing it regularly twice a day." I
exhale some smoke, saying, "When your shoulder heals we could even take it
up a notch, say three times a day." Robby barks out a laugh, coughing
because smoke got caught in his throat with his abrupt laugh. He wipes his
mouth with the back of the hand he's holding the cigarette with, and says,
"You say stuff like that three fucks a day thing, with such a straight
face, dude. Ya got me there, I thought you were serious for a
second. Jesus! Three fucks a day! That'd qualify us for pervert
consideration, ya know." I'm like, "Nah, not really. I didn't mean every
day, just when the mood hit us. I mean, you're in charge anyway, but I'm
just saying if you get the mood I'd go along with whatever you say. I'm
serious about you being in charge because you've got leadership qualities
coming out the yin yang." He nods his head, saying, "You're thinking about
the way I was on last year's baseball team. I was infield captain, so yeah,
I needed to be a leader. With you though, it isn't all that easy." I flick
my cigarette butt off one of the rungs in the railing and it bounces back
at me, so I swat it with my hand and it goes over the railing. "A single up
the middle," Robby says. I chuckle, then go, "You do great leading our
relationship too, Robby. I'm happy to follow your lead." He takes a last
drag of his cigarette, then shows-off flicking his butt high into the
night. We watch the red ashes trailing off the butt like a small
firecracker. Then he says, "I just might want to fuck you three times a day
sometime, so you be ready for it." I go, "Yes, sir!" It's easy to put ideas
in Robby's head, and then he takes ownership of them, which is okay with
me. Three fucks a day, hot damn!!

Three fucks is just a dream at this point. Doing even one will be
problematic with his shoulder susceptible to aching at any sudden motion in
his body. We strip to our underpants in the bedroom, then do our bathroom
routines. Robby says, "We'll shower afterwards, Dylan. I missed the shower
last night." I mutter, "Okay," feeling anxious anticipation of our upcoming
sex. "How should we try it, Robby?" He goes, "Well, it's gonna hurt my GD
shoulder anyway we do it, but maybe if you just bend over and grab your
knees, that might work best. And, Dylan, don't push your ass back against
me, okay? I'll try to just move my hips and keep my torso stiff." I go,
"Whatever you say, Robby. Should we take off our boxer shorts?" He goes,
"Oh yeah, maybe we should," and he chuckles. Then goes, "I'm excited and a
little nervous 'cause it might hurt like a real bitch, but I'm gonna do
it!" I step out of my boxers and help Robby step out of his. Then I grab
his cock and one of his nuts to just hold, not squeeze, as I kiss his
lips. We do a really nice French kiss, but without having each other in our
arms it loses something, although it's still nice. Robby has a few "Ow"
moments when he begins moving his head during the kiss so he pulls his head
away, saying, "Maybe you should just suck my dick into a boner, Dylan." I
mutter, "Oh, sure..." getting on my knees and sucking his four inch cock
with tongue and lips, while lapping at the head and that gets him hard
fast, so the boy is horny; guess he and Ryan haven't done anything
together. Robby's doing deep breathing, muffling some grunts when his
shoulders shudder, or they flinch from the stimulation on his dick. He
takes a big breath, pushing at my forehead, mumbling, "I need a break,
Dylan. I'm sorry." I look up and see his face is red from him holding his
breath when the pain is shooting through his shoulder. His free hand is
gently rubbing his upper arm, so maybe that hurts too. Not a real sexy
situation, but I desperately want to feel his cock up my ass, so I ask,
"How 'bout KY jelly so it goes smoother going in?" "Good idea," he says,
and I get some from the night stand. We hardly ever use it anymore, but it
is a treat sometimes to get that slippery feeling of easy penetration and
all that. Squeezing some on my fingers I stroke his cock with it and it
gets harder still. Then I reach behind me and push some up my ass,
fingering myself a bit, but stop when I'm about to moan. Robby says, "We're
so horny it's sick. You ready, Dylan?" I wipe my finger on my leg and then
bend over with my hands on my knees, saying, "Ready, willing, and anxious."
Robby goes, "Me too," and guides his cock to my ass, then pushes it in. Oh
it feels so good! "All the way, Robby," I gasp. He grunts and humps his
cock up my ass four inches, then goes, "Ahh, ow!" He immediately follows
that with, "I'm alright, I forgot and moved my shoulder."  I'm biting my
lip, waiting impatiently. Then his hips start moving and it feels kinda
like a regular fuck in that it feels good, but without the zing of our
normal sex. It kinda reminds me of when I jerk-off, so I start stoking
myself. No way am I not having a climax. In between grunts of pain, Robby
fucks my ass steadily, but this whole thing seems more like a chore for him
then anything else. He's awesome to do this, but it's not really
hot. That's not to say I tell him to forget it; no, it's not great, but
it's better than just jerking off, which I'm also doing. And I know it's
Robby's cock in my ass, so it helps knowing it's his boner and not a dildo
I'm sticking up there while I jerk off. Not that I've ever actually seen a
real dildo, never mind own one.

It takes about ten minutes of, 'stop and rest his shoulder' fucking before
I feel my climax coming on. After awhile Robby's muffled protest of pain in
his arm and shoulder just blend in with the sucking sound of his slippery
cock plowing my ass and my grunts of pleasure. Not pleasure on nearly the
scale of our regular sex, but a hell of a lot better than nothing. When cum
shoots from my cock, my hand stroking my foreskin to and fro, the immediate
shot feels great, much better than my jerk-off climax, but it's way down
from a normal fuck climax. Robby sounds exhausted when he slows down and
says, "Oh good, Dylan. I was able to get you off. I feel so good about
that, but I've jerked around too much and I'm just not feeling it." As for
me, I got some decent buzzing going around my balls, not toe-curling stuff,
but it felt pretty good overall. Robby pulls out of me as I'm stroking the
last drips of cum from my cock. I feel better, but then I think about
Robby, and say, "Robby, let me get you situated in bed, on your side like
last night, and I'll suck you off. Maybe that'll work this time if you're
laying down. It's not fair you don't get off and I do." Robby quickly says,
"Oh, okay. Yeah, the way you wedged the pillow at my back stabilizes my
shoulders. If you're willing to try it, I'd appreciate it." I go,
"Appreciate it? Robby, we're lovers in love! I want to do it for you." He
mutters, "I love you so much. What do I do first, I forget." I go, "Just
sit at the edge of the bed," which he does, and I do the same thing as last
night: one arm low around his back and the other under his leg and get him
sitting on top of the mattress with his legs stretched out in front of him,
then lower him to his good side. Then the pillow goes behind him, securing
his back. Climbing on the bed from the other side I'm careful not to make
any abrupt moves. On my elbows and knees, my head's at his crotch and my
ass is pointing away at ninety degrees to his body. I bury my face in his
crotch and take the jelly coated cock, coated with my ass juices, and suck
his cock clean. It stayed hard when he pulled it out of my ass. Nothing
fancy, just constant sucking and licking and while he does start
involuntarily to jerk his body as he gets near climax, he perseveres and
with a yelp of pain, he thrust this hips forward and a lot of
creamy-boy-cum floods my mouth. In this position I couldn't get my throat
the right way to take him in my throat, which means I get all his spunk in
my mouth. A lot of cum from Robby; first the misty spray, then the long
stream, followed by three smaller ones. I try swallowing some, but it's
drooling our both side of my mouth and down my chin. I suck until, Robby
says, "No more, Dylan. That was great." But he doesn't sound too
enthusiastic because the shoulder pain may have outweighed the climax
thrill. All in all, easily the worse sexual experience we've ever had
together, but still pretty good; from my viewpoint anyhow, but I gotta feel
bad for Robby. He mostly went through this for me. He's unusually quiet as
I help him shower. The plastic cover for his arm in a sling is cumbersome
and he can't move the arm and it's a bit of a pain in the ass bathing
him. Not the fun I usually have in the shower with a boy.

After drying both of us and getting some pajama bottom on Robby, I help him
get in bed again. To say something, I go, "I changed the sheets for you
yesterday, Robby. Did you notice?" He says, "I did, and thank you. Nice
crisp, clean sheets are great to sleep in." I come around to my side of the
bed, my side that I won't be sleeping in, and gently lean over to kiss his
lips, then say, "I didn't get clean when helping you with your shower, so
I'm going to jump back in the shower now. See if you can get to sleep." He
says, "Just a second, Dylan. Um, I've kinda been considering something all
day, and I need to bring it up to you. Ah, I can't do this with you again
until my shoulder heals because it hurts too much, and I'm doing a shitty
job as your lover and sex partner anyway. Too bad whats-his-name isn't
around, I guess. I wouldn't even mind if you did it with him. I'm letting
you down and I hate that!" Robby's got this need to be the best at anything
he's doing so I know it's killing him that he can't fuck me good at the
moment. I go, "No, you're not doing a shitty job, Robby. That was great for
me, both your fuck and sucking you off. I loved it." He says, "It wasn't
great at all; you're just being sweet. Here's my crazy idea, and I can
hardly believe I'm saying this, but... um, remember when I was sick with my
cold and my brother pulled that bogus 'Helping my brother service his
lover' routine. Remember?" I give a cautious, "Un huh," and he goes, "Well
we all got a big kick out of it then, and I liked hearing about it. I mean,
it was my brother so I didn't feel threatened that someone was stealing you
away from me. So, simply put, I know you're going home Friday night and
I'll be with the team for an away game on Saturday, so how 'bout we recruit
Dodger to fill-in for me this weekend. By next week I should be much
better. Is it a crazy idea?" He looks concerned. I say, "Damn, I'm touched,
Robby. I swear to God I am, you're just thinking about me and my sexual
appetite. That's like so awesome of you! You already know Dodgers' attacked
me twice, and.." Robby says, "Three times actually, he tells me about it
and because it's him I don't mind too much. This time he'd be doing me a
favor for real. Keeping you from straying off the ranch, keeping it in the
family and saving me some pain as well as a guilty conscience that I'm
letting you down." I go, "You know I think Dodger's awesome, but it don't
seem right, you know, me doing it with him and all. He usually waylays me
and is bossy as hell... heh heh, it's fun actually." Robby asks, "You think
it's a good idea then, for both of us... and hell, for my brother too. He
thinks you're awesome. Whaddaya think, Dylan, should I call him tomorrow?"
I go, "Yeah I guess, and I might as well go along willingly because if you
call him it won't make any difference if I go along willingly or not, he'd
get me anyway, somehow!" We have a laugh, muttering, "That little fucker,
Dodger..." Robby says, "I'm surprising myself, but I feel relieved we're
taking care of this dicey situation." I go, "Huh!" 'cause it's taken me
totally by surprise. The thought to do this never crossed my mind, although
calling Elliot's brother, Ray, has crossed my mind. So, Robby's being
clever enough to, as he says, keep it in the family where he can hear every
detail from Dodger. Oh man! This is nuts, but cool too.

In the shower I don't know if I'm elated, or what. I should be, I guess,
but it is such an odd arrangement... even for me.

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

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