Date: Sat, 1 Sep 2012 08:09:23 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR  Chapter 41  by Donny Mumford

			   DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR

				Chapter 41

			     by Donny Mumford


I've got a bad feeling about this. Maybe it's because things have been
going my way lately and I figure there's gotta be some bad luck somewhere
in my travels, or maybe it's the body language of the three college-age
guys looking at us from a hundred yards away. They just came out of the
rest area's building in Parker's Park and stared down at us. Chubby and I
are catching our breath. We've just jogged the first half of our run; the
same run we used to make almost everyday before we got jobs a couple of
years ago. Or maybe I've got bad vibes because I ran into that Marine guy
right here around the same time Chubby got his window washing job, and I
had a few very strange encounter with that Marine. Whatever the reason, I'm
definitely experiencing nervousness. If they weren't looking for trouble
they'd have ignored us, not stared down at us so obviously. I say to
Chubby, "Don't look now, but three guys just came out of the restroom and
they're checking us out. My intuition says they're trouble." Of course,
even though I told him not to look, Chubby looks at them anyway, going,
"Whaddaya talking about, Dylan, you think we're the only guys jogging this
trail? I'm surprised we didn't see runners along the way." When Chubby
looked up at the three, the one on the right gave a girlie wave at us, then
all three started walking towards us in a line, like the "Gunfight at the
OK Corral". They're still staring at us and talking out of the sides of
their mouths to each other. Chubby plops down on a bench, saying, "We
shoulda brought bottled water with us. Do you suppose there's water in the
restroom?" I'm trying not to look at the guys, trying to ignore them like
they should have done with us. I mumble, "Probably, but I'm not drinking
water from a restroom." Chubby goes, "Why not?" I say, "Come on, Chubby,
lets take off. I'm rested." He's like, "Take off? We just got here fer
chrissakes. I'm gonna check out the restroom and get something to
drink. Maybe they put a soda machine up there. It's not just a lavatory, ya
know. There's a room with information pamphlets about the park in the front
of that building." I'm not listening to Chubby, I'm trying to think what
our options are if these guys are a problem. Chubby has always said that
when in a jam do the unexpected, but what would that be in this case? If
there were just two of them I'd feel better about things, but maybe my
imagination is getting the best of me. Chubby's taking off a sneaker,
muttering, "I got a stone or something in my sneaker."

Casually stretching, I glance over at the three strangers and now they're
twenty yards away from us. They're all wearing running gear. The one who
gave the girlie wave has on a shiny, sleeveless, black and red top that's
skin tight, and shorty shorts that ya see guys run races in, they're
smaller than boxer shorts. Yellow Nike running shoes with ankle socks
complete his outfit. He's average size, but the guy on the left is
ridiculously musclebound. He's got the hairiest legs I've ever seen too,
hairier than Alan Snyder's, if I can believe that. Bulging muscles in his
biceps, and his thigh muscles are so big they almost rub together as he
walks. He needs to hold his arms away from his body slightly or his biceps
would rub his sides as his arms move; he's hideous looking if you ask
me. Being musclebound is not a good look in my book. All three have on the
shorty-shorts, but girlie-wave is the only one with a sleeveless top, the
kind with just straps over the shoulders; the other two are wearing running
shirts with short sleeves. Chubby ties his sneaker's, asking, "You coming
with me, Dylan? Lets see if there's a vending machine up there." I'm no
coward, so I mutter, "Uh huh, let's go." We get up and walk towards the
three guys with Chubby's saying something that he chuckles at, but I don't
hear whatever made him laugh. The three guys are staring right at us as
they walk, and when we get to them they do that thing bullies do, they walk
right at us so we need to step out of their way or get run down. I try side
stepping the guy on the right, the girlie-guy, without looking at him, but
he gets his arm around my shoulders, lisping, "Where ya going, kid?"
Musclebound, on the left of the three, has his arm around Chubby's
shoulders at the same time, asking, "You boys have your seasonal passes for
these Parker's Park trails?" Chubby shrugs his shoulders trying to get
musclebound's arm off him, but the guy holds on, sarcastically adding,
"We're sort of un-appointed rangers for the park, making sure everyone pays
for the use of these beautiful trails." Chubby says, "What the fuck ya
talking about? There's no fee for using these trails." The third guy, who
was walking in the middle, is very tall with a long hairdo, he asks, "You
lads from Framingham High, are ya?" I ask, "What's your problem?" as I'm
trying to get out of the girlie guys grasp, but he gets me in a headlock,
chuckling, "Feisty huh? Relax, we just want to talk to you boys for a
minute." The musclebound guy says, "Lets walk these boys up to the
restroom, Marvin," then to us, "That's where you were headed, right? We'll
keep you company." Chubby, recognizing that my intuition of trouble is
unfortunately correct, stalls for time, asking, "Is there a vending machine
up there?" Marvin, the name of the girlie-guy, does that rubbing thing with
his knuckles on top of my head as I struggle to free myself from his
headlock. He says, leaning his head uncomfortably close to my face, "Calm
down," then, "You smell nice, what's your name?" I yell, "Let go of me,
asshole!"

Musclebound and Marvin get us turned around heading back to from where they
came; the long-hairdo guy walls behind us goosing my ass, then says to
Marvin, "Choice ass on your boy." Marvin uses his free hand to yank my head
to the side and then push his fingers between my lips, doing a lisping
mumble, "His mouth is choice too." Hairdo walks around Marvin, saying, "Let
me see," and he puts his fingers between my lips and rubs against my
teeth. His fingers smell like nicotine. I struggle mightily, but Marvin
chuckles, then cups the fist of the arm around my neck with his free hand
and tightens his headlock painfully, shaking me, saying, "I'll squeeze your
fucking neck until your head pops off, cutie." It hurts like hell, and fear
floods my brain as the reality of the situation sinks in. Muscle-bound is
basically dragging Chubby now, and he's having very little trouble doing it
too. He mutters, "You two lads are gonna experience something new. Most
boys aren't this lucky, so this is your lucky day 'cause we're gonna let
you suck our cocks and then we're gonna fuck you. All of us, so resign
yourselves to your fate and it'll go easier for you. If you cooperate we
won't need to beat the shit out of you, but if you continue to be a pain in
the ass, we'll still fuck ya, but you'll end-up not nearly as pretty as you
are now." The long-hairdo guy tries to talk some sense to us, pretending to
be nice, he says, "There's no need to get beat-up boys. Just cooperate and
we'll all leave friends. You'll experience something new that you might
even like. It feels good taking a man's cock up your ass, or in your throat
for that matter. It's not like it isn't done thousands of time a
day. Whaddaya say?" Chubby's feet drag on the ground, as musclebound has an
arm under both of Chubby's arms dragging him effortlessly, Chubby says,
"Oh, something that feels good, goldilocks? I'll show you something that
you might enjoy too. The first chance I get I'm going to punt your nuts up
to your lungs and then step on your dick while you grovel on the ground."
All three of them laugh, and Marvin lisps, "We're gonna need to tie these
two tigers up. They're dangerous." Something jogs in my brain; do I know
this pervert?

We're inside the building now, in the room before the actual restroom, and
there's no vending machine either, so it's a total loss. Marvin says to
long-hairdo, "Artie, take hold of this one and I'll get his sweatpants
down. We can use his pants to tie his arms behind him." Artie goes, "Ewww,
my pleasure, he's as cute as they get," and he puts his arm around the
front of my throat pulling me against his chest, his face against the side
of mine, choking me as he licks my ear, then sticks his tongue in and
deposits lots of his saliva to fill my ear with it. How can something done
by my boyfriend be so sexy, but when done by this pig be so revolting?
"Lift him off his feet," mumbles Marvin, and now I notice he has rose
colored tattoos on his right bicep and I remember where I know him
from. He's the obnoxious one who first spoke to Willie and me at fat Carl's
cookout. He was dressed in biker's gear at that flawed affair. I can't say
anything at the moment
 though, Artie's lifting me off the ground with his arm under my chin,
choking off my windpipe. I don't even kick my legs as Marvin pulls off my
pants because it's frightening not being able to breath, and I don't want
this condition to drag on. Artie says, "Get his jockey shorts too," and off
they come with Marvin lisping, "Ewww, he's really hung!" and he fondles my
package, then bends down and sucks my cock, with Artie saying, "I gotta put
him down or he'll pass out." Musclebound goes, "Let him pass out, that
might be the way to go," but Artie sets me on my feet and loosens his arm
around my throat, just barely enough for me to breath, saying, "It's more
fun seeing him struggle. He's a strong kid and I'm going to fuck his
awesome ass until he's tweeting like a canary. The more he struggles under
me, the more I'll like it" Tears are running down my face, not from crying
because I'm not crying; from the stranglehold I guess. I glance over and
see musclebound has a hand over Chubby's mouth, which is why I haven't head
from him lately. Muscleman's other hand is inside Chubby's sweatpants
fondling him, as he mutters, "Smaller cock here. I think I'll be able to
get his cock and balls in my mouth at the same time, although he's got big
nuts, so maybe not."

Artie says, "You hold this one, Marvin. I wanna see if he has a wallet."
Marvin goes, "Let me get another taste of his cock first," then to me, "Ya
worked-up a little perspiration jogging, didn'tcha? I like that." I've got
my breath back and can talk again, so I nervously say, "You guys got a big
problem unless you plan on killing us, which will compound your problem
beyond belief."  Artie stops sucking my limp cock, and says, "No way are we
murdering you!" then long-hairdo adds, "We just want to have a little fun
with you two. Killing you is way not going to happen; don't worry about
that. You'll be okay, and if you cooperate, like I said, we won't even beat
ya up. Will we guys?" Musclebound is struggling with Chubby, he grunts, "I
might need to beat the shit out of this one though, and I mean just short
of killing him. He hasn't stopped fighting me since I got hold of him."
Marvin says, "Use the chokehold on him that Artie used on his kid. It
calmed him right down," then to me, "You're ready to work with us now,
aren't you, cutie?" He's trying to seem nice. I go, "You still got that big
problem I mentioned." Marvin chuckles, asking, "What might that be?" I say,
"Your name is Marvin Carvey, you were at fat Carl Denton's cookout a few
weeks ago." The three of them look at each other, they're eyes wide as
reality comes for them now too. Marvin's pointing at me, saying, "Ya, ya,
you where that other kid," and Artie screams, "Oh fuck! You dumb shit,
Marvin!" Then to me, "Hey, we were just kidding around with you here. Let
him put his pants back on," and long-hairdo, Artie is his name, lets go of
me. On my feet now, I swing around and kick Artie in the nuts. Marvin goes
to grab me as Artie doubles over. I snarl at Marvin, "Don't fuckin' touch
me, ya pervert!" He looks at musclebound, unsure of what to do next.  Artie
groans and sits down on the floor, then rolls over on his side in the fetal
position. I got a perfect hit on his balls, and that's a rare lucky kick. I
say to musclebound, "Let him loose," meaning Chubby, then add, "Maybe
there's even a way you guys can get out of this without the police getting
involved." Marvin says, "Let him go, Stan! Let's listen to the kid's
idea. I can't fuckin' believe I didn't recognize the fucker, I mean, look
at him, you'd think I'd remember that face." I'm putting my jockey shorts
on, then my sweatpants, not sure how to proceed. Stan's eyes move back and
forth, apparently he's thinking too, or trying to. Marvin again says, "Let
him go!" and Stan takes his hand off Chubby's mouth and then his arms drops
to his side. Chubby takes a few big breaths, his face as dark red as I've
ever seen it. Before I can say, 'Don't do it, Chubby,' he turns around and
kicks Stan in the balls, but doesn't get the lucky shot on him that I got
on Artie, so Stan partially blocks it, screaming, "You motherfucker!"
Marvin gets between Chubby and Stan calming Stan down, "Be cool, Stan. Let
the other kid think." Stan says, "Fuck 'em, let's kill 'em!" Marvin goes,
"Don't be an asshole, we're not killing anyone." Then to me, "Whaddya you
got in mind, dude?" I say, "First off, that was a threat to my friends life
which I believe is a crime in itself." Marvin goes, "Oh bullshit! Whaddaya
got? What's your idea?"

I don't know, actually. I'm chewing on my bottom lip as Artie sits up
muttering, "You skinny prick, I oughta..." but Marvin yells, "Shut the fuck
up, Artie!" Apparently Marvin's the honcho in this posse, and he's dropped
the lisp too. He hasn't used it from the time I mentioned his name. And how
the fuck I remembered his last name I'll never know... it just came to
me. I only heard it once during that horrible little incidence at fat
Carl's. Chubby's spitting, trying to get the taste of Stan's hand out of
his mouth I suppose. I don't have a real idea of what to do now, but I
blurt out the only thing I can think of. I go, "You three give us your
wallets. That way we'll have robbed you which will prevent us from going to
the police to report the homosexual rape that you've basically already have
done on my person. You'll be safe, and we'll be on our way." The brains of
this group, Marvin, says, "Do you really think we have wallets in these
skimpy running shorts?" Chubby goes, "Ya got money with ya though, right?
Pull your pockets inside out." I raise my eyebrows at Marvin, with an
expression on my face, like, 'What are you waiting for?" He exchanges
glances with Stan, who shrugs, mumbling, "It almost makes sense, I
guess. This was your idea, Marvin! Ya dumb shit!" Marvin goes, "Oh fuck
you, Stan! You were all-in from the start," and he pulls his pockets
inside-out and some change and a few dollar bills drop to the floor. Chubby
picks-up the bills, saying, "Forty-two dollars," then he looks at
musclebound Stan, who has a very scary, pissed-off expression on his
face. Stan hesitates, then mutters, "Fuck..." and pulls his pockets out and
a small billfold hits the ground along with a small plastic container of
peppermint tic tacs, and an unopened container of condoms. Chubby picks up
all three items, takes a tic tac; then, as he sucks on it, he counts the
money. "Eighty-one dollars," he says. Everyone looks at Artie who's
sitting-up now, his hands supporting him from behind as he leans back on
them. "I don't have any money on me, ya ball buster," he says to me. "Be
cool, Artie," says Marvin, "Pull your pockets out to show them." Artie
struggles to his feet, saying to me, "If I ever get a chance, you're gonna
get the beating of your putrid life," as he turns his pockets inside-out
and a condom, a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes, and a driver's license
fall to the floor. I pick up the condom and toss it to Chubby, who puts it
in his pocket, saying, "Safe sex is a good thing." Artie says, "Fuck you!"
and Marvin goes, "Artie!" then to me, he asks, "We done here yet?" I take
out my cell phone, saying, "Yeah, but if I see one of you on our way out of
the park, I'm calling the police and we'll take the rap for robbery just to
see you take one for rape and kidnapping. I got your DNA on my dick, and
his," pointing to Artie, "Is in my fuckin' ear." They all stare at me with
hatred in their eyes. I bend down and grab Artie's drivers license and put
it in my pocket, then say, "Lets go Chubby." Stan says, "Chubby? He ain't
chubby." Marvin rolls his eyes, but that's the last word we hear from them
because we're out the door jogging away, looking back every ten seconds.

Neither Chubby nor I says anything for five minutes, and then I need to
stop and dry heave at the side of the trail. The adrenaline kick can be
sickening after the fact. Chubby rubs my back as I'm leaning over. He says,
"That was a fantastic performance you put on back there, Dylan, your best
one ever. I couldn't think of a way out without getting our asses kicked."
I feel horrible so just nod my head, and mutter, "Let's jog some more."
Chubby's like, "Are you okay?" I say, "No, not really. Those fuckers scared
the shit out of me." He hugs me, saying, "We'd have done something, Dylan,
but your solution is by far the best one I can think of. I had my eye on
the fire alarm box and the fire extinguisher in the corner. Hit one or two
of those sick bastards over the head with that heavy metal container might
have done it. But this is better. Hey, whaddaya you wanna do with the
money?" I'm still feeling ill, and a little mystified at how quickly
Chubby's gotten over that terrible situation. I ask, "Weren't you scared
back there?" He thinks for a second, then quietly says, "I guess if I had a
brain in my head I shoulda been scared, but I was so pissed-off all I could
think of was some way to seriously do fucking harm to Stan, the ugly weight
lifter." I nod my head, feeling a little better, then tapping my head with
my index finger, I say, "Brains, not brawn... that's what got us out of
that mess!" and I can't help but give smile a little too. Chubby squeezes
my hand, then says, "Okay, Einstein, let's jog our asses out of here," and
that's what we do, looking over our shoulder every couple of minutes. While
jogging I start being proud of myself, but realize soon enough that we
really escaped disaster because of luck. The luck of knowing one of them;
if we didn't know any of them we'd go to plan B, which is Chubby's plan. So
I need to admit that in most cases like that one, Chubby used the best
approach by planning something, anything, to give us a chance of getting
away. Hitting a couple of then over the head with the fire extinguisher is
a pretty good idea if one of us could get to it. I also have two other
thoughts while jogging down the pretty trail of Parker's Park: one, I feel
embarrassed that there are gays who are like those three. I'd rather think
that straights are the only ones who bully, but that's obviously not the
case. And two, what would it do to Chubby if he was fucked by one of
them. I mean, after his horrible experience with the infamous Ricky of
window washer infamy. It probably would put an end to any hope I have of
some sexy time with Chubby in the future. There's another thought I have
too; it's this, 'Will Chubby think less of me for being gay now that it was
gay thuds who tried to do what those three had in mind?' Bothersome
thought, so I ask, "Chubby, do you think less of me now because I'm gay,
like those animals?" He stops running, to look at me, "What? Why would I,
Dylan? There are bad guys both gay and straight. I've run into more
straight assholes in my life, by far, then gay ones. Dylan, you and those
animals might be gay, but that's all you have in common with that
trash. They'll eventually get what's coming to them, you don't think we're
the only boys they've thought to do that to, do ya?" I go, "It might be, I
don't know, but I hate the thought of them being on my team in any way." He
goes, "Well, they're not on your team!  You might as well say you don't
want to be on the male team because of those sick boys in New Hampshire
awhile back who murdered that woman and tried to kill the woman's twelve
year old girl. They were boys our age, but that's all we have in common
with them." I nod my head, then grin at Chubby, and say, "You're the brains
of this outfit, not me, dude," He goes, "Yeah, I know that. Lets go."

It was a relief to get in the Jeep and drive away and I have to think it'll
be quite a while before I'll want to run that trail again, and that's a
damn shame 'cause it's part of Chubby's and my childhood. During the ride
we go over the sordid details of our encounter with the dark side. Chubby
seems more somber about it now that we're reflecting on what could have
happened. Apparently the reality of the situation has hit home for him
now. Neither of us mentions our past encounters with dangerous situations,
and certainly not the window washer boys' case of two years ago. Thinking
about what just happened in the park, I ask, "Do you think we should go to
the police anyway, Chubby? That robbery thing won't hold water if we turn
ourselves in and turn the money over to the police with an explanation of
the situation." Chubby yells, "Hell no! If you're dealing with the police,
you got problems, Dylan. Fuck that! It'd be in the papers and we'd be
associated with those scum bags in some people's minds. But mostly I don't
want the moms worrying about it or needing to deal with it in any way. We
need to protect them from that kind of publicity. Just imagine them needing
to rehash it with coworkers, their bosses, and... no, forget the police."
I'm nodding my head in agreement, especially the part about our moms. They
think Chubby and I lead safe, happy lives and I want them to continuing
thinking that. And, for the vast majority of the time we are leading safe,
happy lives; let's leave it at that. I go, "You're right Chubby, and lets
not talk about it any more either. I want to put it behind us." He goes,
"Yeah, I like the way you roll, Dylan," and he holds his fist out for me to
bump with mine, which I do. We exchange smiles, then Chubby's like, "I got
two last words on that fiasco in Parker's Park: one, I'm really proud of
you, Dylan... just saying, and two, those fucks are gonna worry their asses
off for awhile thinking we might go to the police, they'll be thinking
about it the same way you described it." I hadn't thought of that. I
murmur, "Oh yeah, they'll be shitting their pants for a couple of days at
least. Hell, it'll be in the back of their minds for longer than that." I
feel good about that, and Chubby's one-hundred percent right about
contacting the police... that's only done as the very, very last resort in
any situation.

We stop at a convenience store to get a couple of sport drinks and a pack
of Marlboro Lights, then lean against the Jeep drinking from the bottles
and smoking. Chubby takes a swallow, then a drag on our cigarette; he holds
up the bottle and the cigarette, saying, "Compliments of the musclebound
asshole, I already forget his name." He passes me the cigarette and I take
a drag. Musclebound's name was Stan, but I don't mention it 'cause I want
to forget it too. I'm feeling relief for our lucky escape and relief from
the discomfort of swarming adrenaline in my system. It's a beautiful day
again, something I haven't noticed since girlie-acting Marvin got his arm
around my shoulders. He was a strong one, much stronger than he
looked. Chubby and I aren't going to talk directly about that scary
situation anymore, but that don't mean it's out of my mind entirely;
that'll take time. Chubby takes the cigarette from my fingers and inhales,
then with smoke drifting from his nose and mouth, he says, "Whaddaya say we
treat ourselves to dinner at Ken's tonight, compliments of the scum bags?"
I go, "Let's see how the day goes, but that sounds like fun... that is, as
long as you don't embarrass us again by trying to order a whiskey sour or
something." He goes, "Oh, I was hoping we could get a couple of pink
squirrels to toast the perverts with." "Pink squirrel? What the fuck is
that?" Chubby flicks our cigarette butt over the Jeep into the road,
muttering, "Ya really got no freakin' idea, dude? Jeez, I thought everyone
knew what a pink squirrel is. It's creme de noyaux, or ameretto will work
too, some white creme de cacao, and heavy cream." I stare at him with a
blank expression on my face and he burst out with a little laugh,
muttering, "Check it out," and I go, "No. I don't believe I will. Pink
squirrel, my ass." He's still chuckling, asking, "Do you want to drive now,
Dylan?" I take the key from him, "I believe I do," and we drive to my condo
and watch a few innings of the Red Sox game in the finished basement, side
by side on the lounge chair with our feet stretched out in front of us, and
Chubby's arm under my neck. It's how we've watched TV for as long as I can
remember. Of course lately we don't get a chance to do it hardly at all.

Around four I check emails on my iphone and see one from Robby. He wants to
know when I'll be back to the apartment. His shoulder has recovered
amazingly well the last day or so. He misses me and there's some mention of
love. No mention of what he's been up to, but the shoulder recovery is good
news indeed. I ask Chubby, "We gonna do the dinner at Ken's?" and he goes,
"Hell yeah," so I text Robby that I won't be back until sometime later
tonight. I tell a little white lie that Chubby and I are having dinner with
our moms and that we can't get out of it. If I said it was just Chubby and
me Robby might wonder why we don't include him. It's just that I get so
little time with just Chubby and me, I want to savor it. Plus, we just had
that harrowing experience and we should be together for a while trying to
get things back to normal, if that makes any sense. I don't want my last
significant memory of Chubby and me being that cluster fuck that never
happened, and thank God it didn't too. Robby texted right back saying he
knows how the family thing goes and he'll see me later. Then he adds that
his shoulder still might be a day away from being ready to service his
boyfriend properly, but he knows Dodger did a hell of a job substituting
for him. I text back that Dodger may have exaggerated his substitution
role, but he was okay although not nearly as good as his older brother. And
we texted back and forth like that for a few minutes. The Red Sox are up by
six runs in the seventh so Chubby stretches and says, "I'm gonna take a
shower and put on clothes worthy of Ken's Steak House. What time ya wanna
eat?" I check my watch and see it's five o'clock so I say, "Let's meet at
the Jeep at six," and Chubby goes, "Sounds like a plan, dude.  See you
then," and he rubs my head muttering, "Luv ya, bro," then leaves, with me
watching him go. I shoulda said, "Right back at ya," but the sincerity in
his voice when he said, 'luv ya, bro' took me by surprise. We're so close,
and that's such a comfort to me. God, I love that boy."

I wander upstairs and into my bedroom to get naked, thinking about Robby
and me doing it tomorrow. He said he needs another day; I'm pleasantly
surprised his shoulder's healed enough this quickly, although I guess the
trainer did say Robby would notice a big improvement in a couple of
days. If Robby hadn't re-injured it we'd have been back in the saddle by
now. Jeez, I'm looking forward to that. Ray and Dodger were nice
diversions, but Robby's the real deal for me. I bet he's rushing his
recover 'cause he misses our sex as much as I do. Damn, I hope he does!
During my shower the Parker's Park debacle sides across my conscious mind,
but I shake my head and bury that thought by thinking about Robby and me
again. I wish I could be more true to him and not stray so much, but it
doesn't diminish my love for him. If anything it enhances it because my
guilty conscience makes me reach for a higher level of devotion to
Robby. Something's working between us, and his little indiscretions with
that little turd Ryan Wilcocks relieves some of my guilt. I can't imagine
it's a very intimate sexual situation between those two, just a
recreational fuck once in blue moon, plus Robby's getting his dick sucked
regularly because that little weasel, Ryan, nags Robby to let him do it.
Probably less of a intimate deal than Ray and I had because I kinda like
Ray. He let down his guard asking if I'd be boyfriends with him... haha, no
thanks, but it was kinda cute of him to ask. When I come out of the
bathroom Chubby's sitting at my desk tapping his fingers. I go, "Ah ha, you
were hoping to see me naked again," and holding out my arms, I go, "Ta da!
Take a look." Chubby makes a face, saying, "I've seen your naked body all
my life, Dylan, and while it's truly an awesome body, I don't need to see
it right this second." I'm stepping into boxer shorts noticing that Chubby
doesn't have on clothes for Ken's Steakhouse. I ask, "Didn't you shower
yet?" He mutters, "Yeah, I did, but..." and he points to his cell phone. I
walk over and look at it; there's a text from Sam. It reads: 'Jeffrey, I
had a shitty weekend, but you can turn things around for me. Come 'n get
it!' I mumble, "Oh, shit. She can wait until after we have dinner
together." Chubby starts his con job by putting his arm across my bare
shoulders, soothingly saying, "Yeah, she probably can, but I can't. I'm
sorry, Dylan, really I am, but you understand the needs of a horny
boy. Don't you?" Of course I do, but I decide on childishness anyway, by
saying, "I hate her! She's not good enough for you." He's rubbing my
shoulder now, still speaking smoothly like you do to someone who's about
the age I just acted like. He goes, "We'll go out to dinner next weekend,
just you and me. I promise. Come on, we had a nice time last night and
today... well, except for that." I switch from childish to petulance,
mumbling, "You'll probably come up with something better that you want to
do than have dinner with me then too, but fine. I'll live. Now stop rubbing
my shoulder and let me get dressed."

As I pull on some sweat socks, Chubby switches to upbeat, saying, "That's
the spirit, and I will definitely not have anything better to do than going
to dinner with you next weekend, or the weekend after that at the
latest. We got money to spend celebrating your genius at getting us out of
that unfortunate situation earlier today." I change to pouting, muttering,
"What bullshit." He says, "You're even cuter when you pout. I just noticed
that. Ya know, I do believe you're the best looking boy I've ever
seen. Anyone ever tell you that?" Continuing to pout while, at the same
time, milking-out Chubby's guilty feeling for tossing me aside, I mutter,
"What? I wasn't listening to you. I was trying to think where I should eat
dinner by myself tonight; probably at some fast food joint." He laughs out
loud, saying, "You're beautiful, Dylan. I know you're just trying to make
me feel worse about this then I already do. Come on, help me out here,
bro. I don't get a chance to get laid very often, even though it's only
with Sam it's still getting my rocks off." I'm tempted to say he can get
his rocks off with me, but I don't because that's not going to happen again
so quickly. Nine months in between sexy stuff between us the last time. I'm
hoping to close that gap some, and throwing that remark in his face would
do the opposite. Instead I say, "Well, thanks at least for spending a
little time with me this weekend." He goes, "Hey, who was the first person
I came to when I got back from working at Stop & Shop?" I go, "Yeah, in the
middle of the night after boozing it up with the guys at college." Actually
I was occupies with Dodger and Vinnie until eleven o'clock so I won't push
the lateness of his arrival, and Chubby did come down to sleep with me,
which was very nice. He says, "Let's have a brotherly kiss and be friends,
alright?" Well, I'm not turning that down, and even though I try not to
grin, I grin anyway, mumbling, "Oh, alright if you insist," and he comes
over to do what unfortunately is a brotherly kiss. Still, it was nice. "We
friends again?" asks Chubby. I go, "Fer chrissakes, I'm not ten years
old. Of course we're friends; we'll be best friends for life. Jeez!" He
smirks, asking, "You can't stay mad at me, can you?" He's squeezing my neck
and I lean into him for a hug, muttering, "Apparently not."

Chubby babbles on about next weekend when we'll go to dinner together and
right now he believes it too. Chubby rationalizes and makes plans for
future things we'll do together; he does that really well, it's the follow
through he needs to work on, but we had fun this weekend, except for that
one thing in the park. Anyway, I love it when he sucks up to me with his
conman act. If he didn't care so much about me he wouldn't work at it so
hard. I can't remember a time when Chubby's disappointed me that he didn't
keep at the making-up until we're both smiling again. He's relentless and
it probably has something to do with his conscience because he knows full
well how much I love him, and he's right too; I can't stay mad at him. I'll
surprise Robby and we'll go out to dinner. That's if he hasn't already
eaten, but it's only ten of six now, so I'll be back at the apartment by
ten of seven. Nice surprises are nice, almost like a present. I drive
Robby's pickup back with Chubby following me in the Jeep. We keep a running
conversation going on our cell phones. Chubby's excited about our summer
job together working for Robby on the grass cutting crew. "Out in the sun
getting a great tan, working side by side with you, Dylan. It'll be
great... and blab, blab, blab" he goes on about positive things we'll be
doing together this summer. He's something; great energy like I always say,
but he's concentrating on us presently, which is what I like the most. That
puts me in a good mood again; thinking of Robby, Chubby, and me being
together this summer. The Dickers will probably do that barbecue on
Wednesday night again too and that's alway a great meal, and fun around the
pool too. We're older now, but we can still have fun. I drive right up to
the main entrance of the apartment complex, then wave my hand at Chubby,
who's waving at me as he continues on his way, probably thinking of getting
his rocks off. Can't blame him actually.

Parking two blocks away, in the first parking spot available 'cause
everyone's home on Sunday night. As I'm walking back to our building I'm
thinking, 'Why the fuck can't I ever find a close spot? Damn!' I go up the
steps and into the hall of our apartment and notice our door's ajar, which
is why we lock it. If we don't lock the door it doesn't close properly, but
it is a fairly old building so what do we expect for our money. Coming up
to the door, I'm thinking I'll burst in and scare the crap out of Robby,
but then think better of it because he might jar his shoulder reacting to
the unexpected. At the door I hear voices. Robby's saying, "Ya know what,
Ryan, I think your ass needs another workout." Ryan's voice is kinda high
pitched like Vinnie's and it makes him seem younger than he is. He says,
"You know you'll get no argument from me, even though we had us an awesome
time in bed after lunch." Robby goes, "Yeah, we did dude, that was my
affectionate sex for ya, I'm gonna do a little rougher recreational fuck on
your ass now, get your pants down." I'm standing here in shock. Robby
sounds almost as authoritative as Willie. My hearts beating fast thinking,
'Robby fucked him in our bed? An affectionate fuck in our bed!' What to do?
I'm frozen in place and oddly afraid of something, but what am I afraid of?
I barely touch the door and it opens three inches allowing me to see the
two of them standing at the far end of the apartment. Ryan is pulling his
sweatpants down, almost to his knees with Robby behind him. "You gonna
spank me first, Rob?" Rob? I hear the slap on his ass almost before I see
it. Robby says, "Does that answer your question? assume the position,"
Ryan's rubbing his smacked ass, muttering, "Ow," then, "Yes, Rob, it does,"
and he bends forward to grab his knees. "Good," says Robby, as he moves to
the side of Ryan's ass, an ass that's not particularly special, almost a
flat ass. After massaging the left buttocks, Robby says, "I'll work on this
cheek, don't forget what to say," and he whacks Ryan's left ass cheek a
hard smack, the "Smack!" sound is followed by Ryan saying, "Thank you, Rob,
may I have another," and he get's another one. This goes on for ten ass
smacks and Ryan's buttocks is rosy red after four; Robby's handprint shows
in white on the red ass cheek after each of the final six smacks. Then
Robby says, "No you may not," when Ryan asks for another one, and Ryan
straightens-up and turns to Robby who hugs him against his body with his
good arm. Aww, too bad he can't hug the little fellow with both arms after
that spanking. Ryan's a good four inches shorter that Robby and thiner
too. Both of Ryan's arm embrace Robby, as he buries his face against
Robby's shoulder. Robby rubs the smacked ass, asking, "You okay, Ryan?"
There's a sniffle, then Ryan says, "Yeah, Rob... that was a good one
though." Robby says, "Well, you insist we go through that charade every
time, don't ya?" Ryan's wiping his sniffling nose on Robby's T-shirt,
muttering, "It gets me so hot, Rob. It hurts, but look," and he steps back
showing his five inch boner. Maybe a tad under five inches; very ordinary
looking, and actually I'm surprised a kid with his body size has a cock
that big. Guess body size doesn't have a lot to do with it.

So, the smacked ass stuff is Ryan's request? I was almost hoping Robby
insisted on spanking him... heehee. Was Robby acting at being
authoritative, or was he actually authoritative for real? And, I wonder if
the dialogue between them is the same every time too, and why am I even
thinking these stupid thoughts? Robby's hugging Ryan like there's lots of
affection between them. Again I ask myself: 'What should I do?' I guess
there's nothing to do because this is our arrangement, Robby's and mine; an
arrangement I was only too anxious to agree to. And me agreeing to it isn't
the only reason I've got no right to be pissed-off at Robby, not by a long
shot, but of course I am. Plus I'm pissed-off at myself for spying on them,
I'm no voyeur, but still I can't make myself look away. Then they kiss and,
oh my God, Robby's doing the lick up the front of Ryan's nose, saturating
him with his saliva. That's our move! But wait, I kiss other boys every
chance I get. I made Connor cum twice from just kissing him. Fuck! I have
no right for outrage, but Robby misinformed me about his feelings for Ryan,
he said it was strictly recreational stuff, no affection at all; that his
sex with Ryan was barely better than jerking off. What a liar! Yeah, lying
like me pretending I don't know Connor's gay even though I've fucked him a
couple of times, in addition to those aforementioned make-out orgasms of
Connor's. And, I've downplayed, a lot, my involvement and sexual frequency
with Willie in Key West, downplayed that and the number of other boys I've
had sex with, and there's no need for me to go into any of that now
either. Minor sexual experiences, that's all they were. Is Ryan a minor one
to Robby? It don't look like it and it's certainly not minor to Ryan who's
moaning in obvious heat from this make-out. Robby mumbles something as
their lips separate and Ryan does another quick three kisses around Robby's
face getting Robby to smile and rub Ryan's hair again. And then I'm
like,'What the fuck? I just noticed Ryan's hair; it's a buzz cut. When did
that happen? Uh oh, it's a shitty buzz-cut reminiscent of the one that kid,
Matthew Flowers, in the produce section of Stop & Shop, has. Robby must
have cut it for him 'cause I recognize some of the damage around the sides
and back of Ryan's head; some of the same damage that Robby inflicted on my
hair just before Key West. Hmmm? Moving over I see my barber clippers on
the bar; of all the nerve! Without asking my permission to use them
too. Moving over a little more I see all Ryan's dark hair on the tile
section in front of the bar. That pisses me off too!

Looking back over at Robby and Ryan, I see that Ryan's on his knees now and
Robby's pants are below his balls. At least the make-out didn't give Robby
a boner. As Ryan's licking Robby's balls I notice a few hair clipping on
his shoulder, so this recreational sex is taking place right after the
barbering. Humph! It was probably like one of the intimate haircuts I give
occasionally, every chance I get. Goddammit! But in all honesty, Robby's
not doing anything I've haven't done... and done, and done. Well from now
on I'm not gonna be wasting my time worrying about a guilty conscience. I'm
back to checking Ryan out and while he is small boned and short, I gotta
admit he's kinda cute with that button nose and those silly wire rim
eyeglasses that Robby told me get all fogged-up when Ryan gets
excited. Robby said something like that during his confession of
infidelity. A door slams down the hall and I duck behind the door just as
Robby's turning his head to look in the direction of the slam. He didn't
see me because I hear him say, "This feels really good, Ryan, you suck my
cock great." Then he says, "Ya didn't lock the door though, did ya?" I hear
a slurping sound, probably Ryan pulling his eager lips off Robby's cock. He
goes, "Sorry, Rob, I thought I did. Do you want me to lock it now?" Robby
goes, "Gawd no! This feels too good," and the sucking and slurping sounds
start up again. I peek back at them and see Robby rubbing Ryan's newly
buzzed hair, muttering, "You have the softest hair, Ry," which is another
lie because he said that to me a million times and two guys can't have the
softest, only one can have the softest, and why am I dwelling on this
stupid point?! The blow job gets Robby's cock sloppy wet and hard. He says,
"Get the condom now, Ryan, before I cum in your mouth." Ryan, still on his
knees, looks up at his hero and asks, "How come ya never do me without a
condom?" Robby says, "Only my true-love boyfriend gets to feel my raw
cock. You're my second favorite, but there's only one number one." Ryan
goes, "Yeah, and I know who that is too. He's a snob, by the way, but what
about John Hammond, what number is he?" Robby says, "Dylan, a snob? Don't
be ridiculous, he's awesome in every way, and forget John Hammond, fer
chrissakes, he doesn't even warrant a number." Ryan mutters, "Sorry I
mentioned him, but I gotta admit Dylan sure is cute. Not as cute as you
though, Rob." Robby goes, "Aww, I love a brown-noser. Get the condom, Ryan,
I'm anxious to fuck your skinny ass." Ryan chuckles at that and stands
up. I'm feeling a little better hearing Robby defend me; I'm no snob, I
just don't care for Ryan, that's all. And who the fuck is John Hammond? And
I think I'll twist that brown-noser, Ryan's, head off just for the hell of
it. John Hammon, huh.... I'll find out who he is. And then I think, 'Hey,
Robby said Ryan has a skinny ass, not like my primo one,' which I stupidly
feel with both hands. Ryan comes back asking, "Ya think I can ever be
number one with you, Rob?" Robby hugs Ryan saying, "Actually you're almost
my favorite, Dylan's always gonna be number one though." Ryan asks, "How
about equal to Dylan?" Robby's like, "Maybe, if you keep getting me hot and
bothered. Anyway, we have almost as much sex together as Dylan and me have,
so that's kinda equal. And I promised I'd do something for you when we were
in bed, and I'm gonna keep the promise." Ryan squeezes his arms around
Robby, muttering, "I love you so much! You're awesome!"

After the hug, Ryan gets a condom out of his pocket and rolls it onto
Robby's boner, with a big grin on his face as he mutters, "I love your
cock, Rob." There's spit dripping off his chin from sucking cock,
haha. Well, actually, there's usually spit dripping off my chin when I do
it too, so from now on I'm going to remember to wipe it because it
looks... what? It looks sexy, that's what. Damn! Ryan says, "Squeeze my
balls hard while you're fucking me, Rob. Ohh man, that gets me so hot!" So,
this kids a masochist huh? Too bad I'm not fucking him 'cause I think I
could bring the pain for the little prick. They kiss again with dueling
boners and then Robby turns Ryan around and gets his good arm around Ryan's
chest to hug him back against his own chest. Ryan's hand reach back to hold
onto Robby's butt cheeks. Using his bad hand for the first time, Robby
lines up his boner and pokes it inside Ryan's ass maybe an an inch or so.
Ryan moans way too long, arching his back, then in his high pitched voice,
he goes, "Ahhh, yeaaah, Rob, push it in". Jesus! What theatrics.  Robby
rubs Ryan's little left nipple as he pushes his four inches up Ryan's ass
and does a last hard bump against Ryan's butt cheeks, swiveling his hips to
get his cock moving in Ryan's rectum. More moans of pleasure from Ryan as
the back of his head moves side to side on Robby's shoulder, bumping
Robby's jaw. Lowering his good hand, Robby gets a fistful of Ryan's balls
and squeezes them hard. Ryan arches his back again and blows lots of air
from closed lips making a hissing sound, then a long drawn-out,
"Robbbbb!". Again Robby squeezes, I can see the white of his knuckles so
he's squeezing hard. Ryan's boner grows harder and begins to move away from
his stomach. It's so hard it looks painful, but soon it's sticking straight
out from his pubic hairs, the perfect boner. Mine does that too when I'm
extremely sexually aroused. Robby's rubbing his nose in Ryan's newly
barbered, supposedly softest, hair ever while still holding on to both of
Ryan's nuts, although not squeezing. Robby draws his cock out about three
inches and pushes it back in, then again and I can see it's going in more
smoothly now. Another moan of pleasure from Ryan, then kind of a squeal
from him. Robby kisses the side of Ryan's head and does another mighty
squeeze on his nuts. The scream from Ryan is followed by drips of precum
from his ridiculously hard cock. When the scream dies down to a moan of
pleasure, Robby begins really fucking Ryan hard.

Hmmm, I guess his shoulder is a lot better than he inferred to me in his
email a few hours ago. He told me he couldn't 'service his boyfriend' until
tomorrow. I know now it's because he's servicing his other boyfriend
today... twice as a matter of fact.The apartment is filled with the sounds
of Robby's crotch slapping into Ryan's skinny buttocks, almost echoing off
the sliding glass door of the balcony. They're facing the glass, but I'm
watching from an angle so I can see pretty much everything that's going
on. Grunts from Robby and moans of ecstasy from Ryan accompany the
flesh-on-flesh slapping sound of Robby's crotch and Ryan's ass cheeks. It's
a fast, hard fuck alright and Ryan appears in a state of euphoria. I'm
transfixed, staring with wide-open eyes, and playing with myself as my dick
gets hard. I haven't seen a real live fuck before, a little of it during
the three-way with Vinnie and Dodger, but not a complete one from kissing,
to cock sucking, to fucking; I never saw that before. Plus, ball squashing
to boot. Ryan's cock looks painfully tight, the head is swollen unnaturally
with constant precum drops falling on the tile just before the
balcony. Ryan's cock is so hard it doesn't hardly move as Robby plows his
ass, slamming into Ryan's buttocks and back, rocking Ryan's whole body; his
cock like a rock, doesn't move a quarter inch.. Nope, through all that
contact Ryan's boner barely quivers except for the lips of his pee slit
which are in constant motion as precum continues dripping out. I'd love to
have a boner as tight as that. Robby slows down, to catch his breath maybe,
he snuggles against Ryan's small body, even using his supposedly bad arm to
hug him. Ryan twist his face around and their lips lock. This activity
causes Robbie's boner to pull out until just the engorged head is
distending the lips of Ryan's anus. The kiss over, and with Ryan overdoing
the moaning again, Robby pushes his cock back up and does a steady, but not
especially fast fuck. They're both licking their lips and Robby starts his
squeaking throat noises, which means he's getting ready to blow a climax up
Ryan's ass. This makes him fuck faster and harder and thirty seconds later
Ryan's yelling, "I'm getting close, Rob, squeeze my balls again!" Robby
reaches down and really squishes Ryan's balls and Ryan lets out another
shrill, bloodcurdling scream as cum shoots straight out from his stone-hard
cock splashing against the glass doors of the balcony. Then another good
long squirt of cum as Ryan's face is scrunched up and he's squealing with
pleasure. And holy shit! I gotta admit, that fuck is hot!

Robby fucks Ryan's ass some more as Ryan, his glasses totally fogged over,
lays limply back against Robby doing his moaning, quietly now. Robby
grunts, mutters, "Oh shit," and pulls out his cock, twirling Ryan around to
face him. Pulling off his condom, then kissing Ryan's lips. Right after the
kiss Ryan goes right down on his knees and takes Robby hard boner in his
mouth and suck on it for just a few seconds before Robby's eyes and lips
close tightly, he grunts a huge pleasure grunt, thrust his hips with his
head back, biting his bottom lip as he pulls Ryan's face into his pubic
hairs, and then another hip thrust as his teen cum drools out both sides of
Ryan's mouth. Then Ryan get his head in position to take Robby's cock in
his throat. Robby hugs Ryans head, Ryan's face against his groin. Rotating
his hips, then pulls out of Ryan's mouth with a big sloppy stand of saliva
and cum stringing from Ryan's mouth to the head of Robby's cock. It breaks
off to swing down on Robby's balls, but Ryan laps at it until Robby's cock
and balls are clean. "Jesus, Ryan! Oh man, that was hot!" exclaims Robby,
with Ryan still licking at his balls. "How ya doing, Ry," asks Robby. Ryan
looks up through foggy lenses with a big smile, and with cum around his
mouth, he says, "My nuts hurt," and they both laugh as again Robby rubs
that hideous buzz cut he gave Ryan. Robby goes, "Get up and grab that
condom." Ryan immediately does that and slides the thing back on Robby's
boner; there has to be precum in there at least. Robby pushes at Ryan's
head and Ryan bends over as Robby pushes his cock back up Ryan's
ass. Ryan's looking back, his glasses still fogged-up, and ask, "Ya gonna
fuck another shot of cum outta me, Rob?" Robby smacks Ryan's ass hard, but
doesn't answer; instead he grabs Ryan's hip and fucks him again. He only
fucks him for a few more minutes, probably milking the last effects of his
climax. Can't say I blame him. Those encore fucks rock.

I'm in a funny frame of mind, confused at how hot I thought that was, while
at the same time I'm confused about how hollow I feel inside. I don't know
how I feel actually because I'm numb. I'm not even hating on Ryan at the
moment, or Robby. Backing away from the door I go slowly down the stairs
and out the main entrance to our building, not knowing where I'm going or
why I'm going there. I have this strange feeling that I've been punished,
except Robby didn't know I was there. Hell, if he knew he would have
stopped, I'm positive of that because Robby's not cruel; he'd be mortified
if he knew I saw that. It's dark outside, but there are many light in the
parking lot. I smoke a cigarette walking around the parking lot while
keeping my eyes on the main entrance. I'm not going in until I see Ryan
leave. After two cigarettes I drive the pickup to an illegal loading zone
spot and turn off the lights to watch the front entrance, and wait for Ryan
to leave.  After an hour I get out and smoke another cigarette. All this
time my mind is separated into three equal parts: it's either blank and I
think about nothing except the music on the radio, or I'm thinking that I'm
getting exactly what I deserve, or I'm trying to think what I'm going to do
about this, if anything. Finally Ryan leaves; it's about eight thirty. He
gets in a new, silver, Chevrolet Cruze, which is as nondescript a small car
as I've ever seen, and drives it out of a primo parking spot he'd found
right next to the main entrance. How the hell does everyone get good
parking spots except me? I drive the pickup into the vacant spot, so I got
a good spot this time and I only had to wait about two hours to get
it. It's a tight fit for the pickup, but it's okay. Now, do I go right in
or give it a little time? Hmmm, give it a little time, maybe something will
come to me, but I'm leaning heavily towards playing this by ear and seeing
what Robby has to say. Damn, that was some random deal alright. Man, Robby
sure enjoyed fucking little Ryan. Ya know what? I shoulda hid behind a car
and chucked at rock at Ryan's car. 'Oh right, that's just what you shoulda
done, ya moron!' I chastise myself out loud. Jesus, it's the kid's mother's
car and Ryan really hasn't done anything wrong. He's just letting his dick
think for him like I do, and Robby too obviously. It sucks, but it is what
it is. I mean, Robby told me he was fucking the little fucker, but seeing
him do it is a whole 'nother thing entirely from hearing vaguely that he's
occasionally doing it. Oh man, what a way to end the weekend. I'd go get
something to eat except I'd lose this parking spot, fer sure.

to be continued...  Donny Mumford thinkat20@yahoo.com

Please consider a tax deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty.
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Thank you!