Date: Fri, 22 Apr 2011 05:52:27 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR   Chapter 5   by Donny Mumford

			   DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR

				 Chapter 5

			     by Donny Mumford

It would be nice if I could come up with a  logical explanation for this
mysterious Ryan Wilcocks and Robby  connection. I mean, one that doesn't involve
some kind of cheating on Robby's part, but I can't. Ryan obviously can't lie for
shit; acted extremely ill at ease when he told me he hadn't seen Robby, and then
Robby says he's been delayed because the equipment manager is getting him
fitted for new cleats... and Ryan Wilcocks just happens to be the equipment
manager... liars! Ten  minutes goes by before Robby shows up at the quad so
maybe  he needed to clean an appendage or something before beginning the
weekend. In college, weekends begins one second after last class on the last day
of the week that you have a  class, but now because of Robby's baseball practice
the start of our weekend's been delayed until right now. The delay  appears to
have  included some untoward  behind-the-back activities by  both of us,
although I'm only sure about one  of us. Robby comes in and I  smile and wave at
him; he gives a half-hearted wave back.  He comes over with a grump expression
on his face and right away I can tell something's  wrong because he's avoiding
eye contact. Well  ain't this a bitch! I thought I was the one  who'd be  acting
antsy because of my little 'after-nooner' with Rajon, but now it looks like
Robby's trumped my guilty conscience with his own, doing the nasty with that
skinny little Ryan Wilcocks no less. Actually, I always kind of liked  Ryan's
shy ways and his curly strawberry blond hair, and those horn   rimmed glasses of
his that are too big for his face, those full lips that make you want to take a
second look, and I kinda like  his ears sticking out from the sides of his head
like little sails too... he's kinda cute in a goofy way.  But him being gay, and
Robby  choosing him to fuck on-the-side... well, that really surprises the hell
out of me, on both counts.

As for my defense of my drifting from monogamy to fuck Rajon Whyte this
afternoon, it wasn't a fair fight from the start, he has magical powers, or
something; I  didn't have a prayer although I did put up a good front trying to
do the right thing. When that didn't pan-out I rationalized like  mad,
convincing myself that most of  the blame for my transgression belongs with
Robby because he hasn't been doing 'it' with me lately. Blaming others for your
screw-up is a sure sign of a guilty conscience, by the way. We're all born, all
of us who  aren't psychopaths  anyway, with the guilt  gene... hell, I  can
remember  being a little kid and feeling  guilt  for taking more than my share
of cookies leaving Chubby with  only one or two.  He'd look at me with his
little eyebrows furrowed until I confessed.   He always forgave me though, which
constitutes the final step in  eradicating a  guilty  conscience: first the
transgression, then the confession and asking forgiveness, and the last step is
being  forgiven. Of  course, few of us  go through all that rigmarole anymore,
most of us  would  rather not deal with it and instead squelch the whole thing
somehow, like it never  even happened. Truth is: when you confess it becomes
part of your   past, but denying it makes it part of your future for as long as
you  continue denying it. Oh fuck the philosophy, my mind's inadvertently
slipped into this topic of guilty consciences because I have one, and
apparently so does Robby.

Reaching under  Robby's chin, lifting his head to look into his eyes, I ask,
"What's wrong, partner?" he jerks his  head away, mumbling, "What are you
talking about? Why so many questions?" and then he starts biting  his
fingernails. "Dude," I say, "It's your brother who  bites his nails, not you!"
 Robby gives me  one of his annoyed looks, drops his fingers from his mouth and
then fidgets with adjusting the waistband  of his sweatpants, muttering, "Let's
get outta here,  it's been  a  long day." I try  for cheery, saying, "You're the
boss, Robby... where shall  we go?" He's zippering up his hoodie, looking
anywhere but at me, "Why don't we stay  in tonight? Eat in too, okay?" I'm
bubbly 'cause I lucked out,  temporarily anyway, getting relief from my guilty
conscience. All upbeat now, I go, "Sure, we can  stay in tonight and catch the
Celtics  playing the Lakers on TV, and, um... you happy with your new cleats?"
He looks up, puzzled, "What? New cleats?... oh, um, yeah, they're great.  Hey,
whadda we have for dinner? Will Chubby be there?" Ah ha!  Changing the subject,
another  sign of a guilty conscience.  "Let me check on Chubby, dude. And, ah...
I think we have  hamburgs in the freezer, so we can do cheeseburgers and those
great fast-food frozen  fries." He's  glancing around as if he's either looking
for someone, or worried someone will show up. "Let's  go, Dylan!  You can call
Chub while we walk." I'm smiling, going, "Oh yeah, sure Robby."  What an
unexpected turn of events ... I get off the hook, and so  easily too! But what's
Robby's story? Maybe I won't be so cocky when I find out what that's all about,
ya know?

Heh heh... still, I'm being kind of a prick playing up  Robby's guilty
conscience, knowing I'm no boy scout either!  Vowing  to myself to tone
everything down, I  call Chubby's cell phone and when he answers he tells me
he's just leaving the apartment; he's got the seven to  twelve shift at Stop
and Shop tonight. "Um, Dylan, how 'bout riding home with me tomorrow... you
know, instead of waiting around 'til Sunday morning?" I say, "Let me check on
something," and, holding the cell phone against my   sweatshirt so Chubby can't
hear me asking Robby's permission, I  go, "Robby, do you mind if I drive back to
Framingham a day early? Chubby  wants me to keep him company." Robby, seemingly
pleased that  we're  off the subject of cheats and cleats, says,  "No, I don't
mind...  you go ahead," then he shrugs, and adds absently, "I gotta make  up a
shift at the store tomorrow night  anyhow." I  mouth, "Thanks," to Robby, and
say to Chubby,  "We're  on,  bro... what time ya wanna take off?" He goes, "I
don't know, one or two in  the afternoon." We talk a little longer about hooking
up all day  tomorrow, like old times, and then click off with me feeling good
about that. I put my arm around Robby's shoulders, asking, "Everything okay,
Robby, you seem a bit down? Did I do something to upset you?"  He goes, "Why
would  you ask that? You never do anything wrong, it's usually me." Well,
there's an opening I  can't let slide, so I ask, incredulously,  "You?  What'd
you do?" He goes, "Ha!" Let's drop the subject," and he puts his arm around my
waist, while I've still got my arm across his shoulders... after a few steps, I
ask,  "Ya think this looks a tad gay?" He  goes, "Yeah, but I don't  care," and
he squeezes my hip pulling me against him, then leans in to say, "I love you,
Dylan," a  quick pause, then, "Do you love  me?" This is turning melodramatic
and I think it's because  Robby's in the 'feeling sorry for himself' phase of a
guilty conscience.  Remembering a Francis Bacon  quote, whoever the hell he is,
from one of Chubby's factoids, I say, "Alas, it's  impossible to both love and
be wise." Robby, frowing, looks over at me quickly, and I go, "Dude, I've
sacrificed the wise part, I'm crazy in love with you and if you don't know it by
now you  ain't paying attention!" and I lean over and kiss him as we stop right
in  the middle of our campus. We're gonna 'out' ourselves if  we're not careful,
not that we're trying to deceive anyone.  Robby says,  "You're  the best
boyfriend in the world!"  I smile at him, but that  comment reactivates my own
guilty conscience...  damn!

We light up a Marlboro and   silently pass it back and forth on our way to the
upper parking lot. As we walk I'm thinking about that popular  phrase, "I  love
you" and how it's almost the same thing as  asking, "Do you love me?" It
certainly implies that follow-up question.  I mean, ya think the average person
hearing that sweet comment  can just leave it  hanging out there, he has to
respond somehow.  Is it possible that the frequency with which one says "I  love
you!", may just be a  measure of how insecure that person is? Hmmmm, or maybe
not, maybe the person really just wants to express his loves with no ulterior
motive. In the pickup truck, we huddle close together with Robby gunning the
engine trying to get the heat going; he asks, "Should we stop at Tracy's to see
if he's got beer we can buy  off him?" I go,  "Teenage boys  should abstain from
drinking beer because it's wrong to add fire to fire!" He  shakes his head, and
says, "Where are you getting all this crazy shit, dude? It sucks!" I go, "I've a
photographic memory, everyone of Chubby's factoids is stored right here," and
I'm tapping the  side of my   head with my  finger. Robby mumbles, "What a
crock! You can't even remember  where you left your car keys half the time," as
he pinches my cheek affectionately. He seems to be over most  of his  guilty
conscience and done with his moping-around demeanor, so that's a good thing. Not
that we should ignore our  consciences all the time, but this time Robby and I
are even, I think.  And, I've just got an idea how we can take advantage of our
supposed indiscretions. What better time to casually  bring up the possibility
that maybe nineteen is too young to be going exclusively steady. I'm gonna
suggest we go non-exclusively steady, which is just like the exclusive kind
except it allows for some ultra safe  recreational sex on the  side... nothing
that will interfere with our mutual, main love affair, of  course. This seems a
much more mature approach to  things rather than pretending to be exclusively
steady boyfriends,  but not really sticking to it. I'm  not sure about bringing
it up right  this second   though, maybe tonight sometime, and hey... maybe  the
beer's not a bad idea after all. When Robby says, "No, seriously, Dylan, do ya
want a few beers tonight?" I go, "Sure  thing, Robby... I'm hip, I'm no
square!" He laughs, in a much better mood now, saying, "When did you turn into a
dork?"   I guess he feels he's gotten away with his cheating so he can be more
like his old self... and as  far as I'm concerned the whole matter's
forgotten... but, skinny Ryan Wilcocks?? WTF?

We catch Tracy as he's on his way out the door; he's a  good guy and goes back
inside to retrieve a six pack of Bud, which is plenty for Robby and me.  Robby
pays him and we're   off for our apartment. First thing we do inside is take
showers,  separately; me first, so now I'm the one putting the frozen french
fries  in the oven and defrosting the hamburgers. Robby gets out of his  shower,
and as he's drying himself, he sings along  with 'The Killers'. They're blaring
from the radio, it's that old  hit  that I  really like, 'WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG' .
I like the whole song,  it's a rock 'n roll song with lyrics like these: You sit
there in  your  heartache, waiting for some beautiful boy to save you from  your
old ways... Watch it now, here he comes..... Hey,  he doesn't look a thing like
Jesus, but he talks like a gentleman!  Ya gotta catch it on youtube; it doesn't
read too great, but if you hear it sung, you'll  know why I like it. Brandon
Flowers, the group's lead singer, is cool to watch too.  Anyway, the Killers,
plus taking a shower, have put Robby in a very sociable mood. He comes up  next
to me, and  sings into my ear, "Looking for some  beautiful boy..." and he
squeezes my ass, adding, "I think I found him too!" I point to my  cheek as I
shake the frying pan to get the hamburgers moving in the hot oil, and say,
"Kiss here, please," and when  Robby  goes to kiss my cheek  I turn my face to
his and we kiss on the   lips. Robby goes, "Yum! Hey, any chance you might want
your boyfriend to fuck you  tonight, little boy?" I use a baby voice to say,
"Oh yes, tank you so very much,  you hunky thing" and he says, "Okay, that right
there, that's creeping me out a little  bit, dude," and we kiss again quickly,
then I go, "Get the hamburger rolls Robby, and check the fries in the oven."
He's like, "Yes, boss," and we finish getting our supper  together. "Special
treat," says Robby, as I'm putting our plates on the table. He has  the blender
out pouring in a little vanilla extract, then big scoops of vanilla ice cream,
and lastly chocolate  syrup and milk. "Black and  white milkshakes, baby!" he
says  as he turns on the noisy blender and all of a sudden I'm thinking again
about black and  white Rajon and me this afternoon.  It's not fair of me to
cheat behind Robby's back,  then catch him cheating and  keep it all to myself
like I'm  holding his transgression over his   head, when he doesn't even know
about mine.  Robby too sweet not to develop a  wicked guilty  conscience over
his cheating, and I don't want him to suffer.   He's more pure than me; I can
gloss over my cheating, but Robby will agonize about his, so I need to come
clean and be honest with him so he won't feel like he's the only weak link in
this going-steady arrangement.   Then I  tell myself: but don't ruin our supper
by blabbing about it right now!

"Jeez, I love milkshakes, Robby, but why'd we get the beer." Taking a big gulp
of his shake, then putting it down leaving a cute milkshake mustache behind, he
points his forefinger at me, and says, "The  beer's for   later when we can
smoke to kill the taste of it, I'd never ruin a gourmet dinner like this with a
beer! Are you crazy?!" He's being funny, yelling the word 'crazy" and I nod my
head,   mumbling,  "My thoughts, exactly..." We eat every drop and after
cleaning  up the kitchen get  bundled in warm clothing and venture out on our
balcony for a  smoke and a beer. It's cold  but I'm feeling good; Robby smiles
at me so  sweetly and I almost  get a tear in my eye 'cause I'm so  bullshit-mad
at myself for doing the sex with Rajon this afternoon and cheatin' on Robby...
dammit! When my dick's running the show things go wrong;  you'd think I'd have
learned that lesson by now. But still, innocent buddy sex like Rajon and I had
shouldn't be such a guilt trip... Robby and me need looser rules regarding our
going steady status! I focus back on Robby, who's telling me about his first
indoor baseball practice and how cool  the  manager of the team is. Some years
ago this manager guy was in the Cubs minor league system; spent twelve years in
the minors without ever getting a sniff of the big leagues... and he's been
coaching the baseball team here at  Merrimack now for the past ten years.
Robby's chuckling,  "Lefty's calls the guys on the team  'generation WTF'
," and he just  might have something there.  I kinda like that; I've heard of
generation X, but generation WTF is  even cooler! Robby says it appears, as with
any sports team he's ever been on, this  one is made-up of some good guys and
some not so good guys: there appears  to be a few egomaniac types who think
they're too good for Merrimack even though they couldn't make it on a team in a
higher  division, and like always there's a few prima donnas  who received
baseball scholarships, but mostly  regular guys, some shy, like Robby is until
he feels  comfortable, and then the majority of guys who just want to be liked,
and make some new friends. Friends, in many cases, they'll have the rest of
their lives.   College  is like a brand new start in life in many ways. I pay
attention to what Robby's saying because, for one thing, I like listening to his
boyish voice; him  and   Chubby sound like they're  younger then they are... my
ex-boyfriend too. It's also fun watching Robby's mouth  when he's talking
because his lips are so perfectly formed, bow  shaped and  full, but not  fat...
wonderful rosy color and as he talks they move of course, and I recall the feel
of them  on my lips and it always makes my pecker move in my pants.  When he
talks right  after taking a drag off a cigarette, the smoke drifts out between
those kissable lips; the drifting smoke and the yummy lips in motion, plus the
occasional glimpse of his pink tongue and the shiny pure white teeth flashing by
with the   pronunciation of certain words is magical to me. It can sorta
hypnotize me and I love that trance-like condition... it makes me almost worship
Robby at times; that's  how much I  love him and love the fact he  loves me.
 It's awesome to be able to experience all that special emotion from  just
watching your boyfriends mouth when he's talking and smoking.  Then  comes the
wonder of why I would jeopardize it all for a quick roll in the hay with
Rajon...   it doesn't make any sense, I  know, but I'm a nut  case, and was,
after all, coerced into it.

A half hour on the balcony in this winter weather is about all we can take at
one time, so inside we go to warm up.  Warm up and pop the top on a couple more
beers.  After  getting over the  horrid taste  of the  first one or two beers
your taste buds become numb and you're able to consume  large quantities of this
stuff, each beer going down easier than the  one before it. We're listening to
music and talking about our lives and when we're outside on the balcony drinking
our third beer and sharing about our sixth Marlboro  light, I finally broach the
subject of my naughty afternoon.  Looking out over the  apartment complex at  a
full moon, I say, "Robby, there's something I haven't told you; I need to
confess something to you." He interrupts quickly, "No need for  confessing
anything, lets not go into a lot of confessing, it's... ah, it's childish,  is
what it is." I go, "Childish? Whaddaya mean?" He  flicks our cigarette over the
railing in a huge arc, landing it  in a dumpster too far away to be reached, but
he reached it just the same. I go,  "Awesome flick, Robby... but, um, we just
lit that cigarette." He's flustered,  lighting another  cigarette and talking
around it, "You've  got me all screwed-up talking about confession when we're
trying to unwind from a week of college pressures." I pull on the ear flaps of
my  beanie, and just come out with it, "I fucked around with Rajon Whyte in his
dorm room this afternoon and I feel  terrible about it, and  I'm sorry I let you
down. There's extenuating circumstances but I'm mostly to blame just the same."
My fingers  are shaky as I reach over and take the newly lit cigarette from
between Robby's perfect  lips. He mumbles, "Rajon? Jesus!"  Taking the cigarette
back he seems deep in thought, then mutters. "Oh, the hell  with it, I forgive
you... now lets move on.  Maybe we shouldn't be so  strict about our never
hooking up  with anybody else.  I mean, we're only  nineteen!" My eyes are wide
as I'm hearing the same argument from Robby that I was going to use with him
myself. Robby blows out some smoke, and goes, "I've been thinking about this:
when we're twenty years old, or twenty-one is probably better, then the "going
steady" thing will be more appropriate. And yes, I'm aware that it was me who
thought this  steady thing was a  good idea in the first place, but I also
thought at one time that coming out to our parents was a good  idea and now it
seems  more like something you'd do when you're twenty or twenty-one... not in
your teens!" I don't want to jump right in and agree with him about the going
steady thing because it might seem I was using that as an excuse for
diddling Rajon, so I jump in on the other thing he mentioned about coming out to
our  parents, "Hmmmm, I  believe  you're  right about that.  After all, who pays
attention to  anything a teenage boy says? I mean, lets get  more mature before
we start babbling all over the   place about being gay." Robby's like, "That's
right, and that other thing I mentioned, that thing about a teenager being too
young to go steady... how 'bout that?" I'm like, "So, if I've got this right,
you're suggesting we still go steady, but not lock-down  steady... there's some
leeway, with discretion." He looks at me suspiciously, then says, "Yeah, you got
it partially right, like you and Rajon already tried out the idea before we
even  talked about it. How was it  anyway?" Not sure at all what I should say to
that, I go for the truth, and say, "Robby, guess what... I topped him and liked
it.  I know you're the main man between us, but do ya think once in a while I
could, you know, do you?" I can see that Robby likes me acknowledging he's the
man in  charge, he  straightens up some and  nods his head like he's considering
my  request.  Oh my god, he looks so cute in the moonlight with his   eyebrows
raised contemplating me fucking him, then  he says, "I guess, sure, yeah it's an
awesome idea!  You used to do it and I had the most explosive climaxes too, but
I'm still the dominant one,  right?" I go, "Oh yeah, definitely! You're the best
at that," which Robby can't help but  smile at. He whacks my ass, saying, "You
need your spankings from time to time, don'cha?" I nod and smile, mumbling, "If
you say so." I'm happy... this couldn't  have gone any better, but then it  does
get better with additional clarification.  Robby says, "So we're both on the
same page here: we're down with having an open relationship, but you and me
remain each others number one boyfriend until we're twenty or twenty-one when we
go back to being monogamous, which is the same thing as 'goin' steady' right?"
I'm nodding my head thinking, "Robby rocks!!!".   So, we're going back to our
old relationship before Robby insisted on going stead... hmmmm, AWESOME!  But
wait, isn't he going to even mention Ryan   Wilcocks?

Guess not 'cause we're onto another topic: Robby's talking about our Rhetoric
class and the paper that's due Monday.  It represents one-third of our grade and
neither of us thought to  pick-up the required outline guide for the paper.
Robby's like, "Fuck man, what happened to that photographic  memory of yours? We
gotta  go to the bookstore right now  and get an outline!" I'm  saying,
"They're  not open this late on a Friday night," and Robby  laughs, "They never
close, come on." We're not drunk on three beers each, but I hate driving with
any booze in  me. Thankfully Robby seems okay driving us to the campus bookstore
but still I'm tense. Pulling up to the store we can see from pickup it's closed.
Robby's like, "Damn!  Stupid store closed at eight o'clock on a Friday night?" I
go, "Duh!" and, with a big smirk on his face, he says, "You need some of that
punk-attitude fucked out of  you, boy," and I'm like, "Dude! Yes!" We both look
at our surroundings; we're in this huge parking lot with some cars and pickups
dotting the landscape. The bookstore streetlight at the end of the sidewalk
shines in Robby's bright blue eyes, as he says, "For old time sake lets do it in
here, the pickups nice and warmed-up, what do ya say?" The tip of his pink
tongue licks the corner of his mouth as he looks at me with anticipation, and
without thinking I  grab my package  'cause it's  such a turn-on that Robby
continues taking this leadership approach to  our sex life. I'm also impressed
he's not letting my dalliance with Rajon slow him  down too much, he's really
taking a mature approach. Guess we're growing up a little; hell, Robby doesn't
even seem  inclined to pout about it.  Wait a minute...  perhaps he wants  to
avoid the subject altogether because he and  Ryan were naughty little boys too.
 But that was only a couple hours ago,  so why's Robby so hot to trot with me if
he just got his rocks off a couple hours ago?  Hmmm, you don't suppose I've
jumped to conclusions here.  If I have  though, what's the  reason Robby acted
so guilty after practice, and why was Ryan so antsy? Could it be it was just a
make-out with those two? That's how Robby and me started; well, actually that's
not accurate, we started with massages, although it doesn't mean Robby and  Ryan
need to do it  that way. Taking a deep breath I decide to  push  these
thoughts away and just enjoy being fucked by my boyfriend. I'm really more
excited about   it than I'd have thought I'd be after the fucking I gave Rajon,
although that was almost three hours before running into Ryan Wilcocks.

Robby pulls the pickup over to the extreme left, turns off  the lights and
drives with the help of moonlight to an open spot  between a large-size pickup
and a van.  "Nice spot!" he says with a touch of a slur to his speech.  That boy
can't drink, so he may be starting to feel the effects of the  three cans of
Bud.  He says, "Okay, get your  pants off. I need to spank your ass for messin'
with Rajon." I jokingly say, "Show me no mercy," and kick off my boots so I  can
get my jeans over my  feet. "Aren't you getting undressed, Robby?" He's pulling
at his crotch, smiling. He goes, "No, I'll just pull my pants  down when I need
to. If we both start rustling around at the same time we'll be  bumping into
each other  and it'd be a pain in the ass." I go, "Oh!" as my  ass hits  the
leatherette seat. "Should I take off my shirt and sweatshirt too?" He's  like,
"Everything, take everything off, including your socks.   Naughty boys need to
be  spanked naked." Jesus! I'm getting a boner already 'cause Robby's really
playing this perfectly. I mumble, "Yes, Robby," and he goes,  "Snap it up!".  Oh
boy, how could I have  forgotten that being submissive to Robby is so hot; even
hotter  than me being the top to Rajon. This is the kind of sex I like best, the
kind where I'm doing it with someone  I love! Of course, my dick has a brain of
it's own and sometimes only cares about itself, so I've been known to get in
trouble messin' around because of that. When I'm totally naked,  Robby says,
"Get over here Dylan, I can't wait to taste you." I slide over and he gets a
fist full of my cock and balls, saying, "These belong to me," I  gasp at  how
sexy and bossy Robby's  being. Still holding my package in his fist, he  leans
over to lick my chest, then suck on each of my nipples till both are pointing
out from my  chest hard and erect, and that's got me squirming and moaning and
running my  fingers through his hair. Then, tightening his hold on my cock  and
balls, he cups behind my head with his free hand and pulls it to him so  he can
suck my top lip between his lips, then  a long wet kiss that has me hugging him
around his neck; his tongue goes in my mouth and laps against everything there.
A  squeeze on my balls gets me grunting as Robby  sucks on my tongue, and my
cock's now hard inside his fist; then a long luscious kiss on the lips with
saliva running down our chins and Robby licking across my lips, his tongue
dragging spit across the front of my nose  temporarily blocking both my
nostrils, and when I do a stiff inhale his spit goes up my sinuses and all I
smell is Robby. My boner's  achingly hard by the time Robby  lets go of it, and
tells me, "Lay across my  lap now, Dylan." I ask, "What should I do with my
boner?" He goes, "Just push it between my thighs, I'll take care of it." I
wasn't  joking when I asked, but Robby was when he answered; he's  already got
me in a docile, submissive frame of mind.

Robby pulls down his pants as he's  positioning himself at the middle of the
bench seat, motioning  for me to lay across his lap. Obviously it's an awkward
situation arranging my crotch  across his lap; I'm basically laying on  his
naked crotch, my forehead on my folded arms resting on the seat next to the
steering wheel; my legs bent at the knees with my calves against the door and my
toes up in the air tapping at the passenger's side  window. My boner is not
between his legs, it's laying sideways next to  his, and feels real nice there
too. "Smack! Smack! Smack!" on my ass, then Robby's rubbing my  buttocks,
mumbling, "Bad boy..."   It stings a little, but I'm still in a  trance-like
frame of mind and lovin' that I'm squishing my cock against Robby's, and that
our identical pubic hairs are intertwined, and that my boyfriend is  spanking
me...  it's dreamy. Then, "Smack! Smack! Smack!  Smack!" really hard and
stinging so I'm quickly out of my trance now, squirming at the sting on my ass,
and yelling, "Robby! That's enough!" I know he giggled at that, I'm pretty sure
I heard him snicker too,  "Smack! Smack!" he's holding my side tight against his
belly, spanking my ass with his  other hand, "Smack!" "Goddammit! Stop that!"
Robby definitely snickered that  time; then,  forcing himself to sound serious,
he asks, "You gonna be a good boy?" I want to give a wise-ass response, but
think better of it, and say, "Yes, Robby." He  laughs outright at that, and
then,  "Good, you've learned your   lesson. This is fun!" I go, "Oh yeah,
whoop-dee-fucking-do..", but it is kinda fun.

He's massaging my buttocks with both hand now,  and that feels better,
especially with our dicks rubbing together... they're both hard too, so the
brief spanking must have aroused Robby a tad. One of Robby's hands leaves  my
ass and comes over to my face, "Open up, Dylan," so I open my mouth and he
sticks  in his thumb for me to suck on. He pulls it out about thirty  seconds
later and works the slippery digit past my  anus ring and up my ass to hook in
my rectum near my sphincter  muscle.  Moving the pad of his thumb around he
tries to find a prime spot on my sphincter, and  when he accidently rubs over it
my hips buck up off his lap. Robby uses his other hand to,  "Smack! Snack!" on
my stinging ass, saying "Stay flat, would ya?" and more rubbing with me
tighening and loosening all my stomach and buttocks muscles squirming and
moaning quietly, "Easy," he says, and I'm  like,   "Robby,  I'm gonna cum," he
keeps massaging my sphincter button anyway, and shortly I do a long goofy moan
as out pours spunk  from my hard dick, then another long lazy stream pours into
our laps and has me going, "Ahh ooh ahhh, Robby...." More massaging of my
sphincter gets me squirming off his lap now, he  needs  to pull me back. Cum
drools from my dick, then just a watery discharge. I'm looking back at him,
whining, "Ooh, please  Robby, that was... I don't know, kinda weird." He's like,
"I saw this on 'gayforit', it's called milking.   I wanted to see how it works
in real life, ya know?" I go,  "Okay, sure. It felt okay, kinda good, but a
little frustrating after I had the initial orgasm. Anyway, it's much better when
you fuck an orgasm out of me; that's the best." "Better than you fucking Rajon?"
he asks. That's the second time he's brought it up since we got here... so he
isn't as blase about that as he pretended to be. And, apparently my messin'
with Rajon got me more of a real spanking from Robby than our usual messin'
around kind.  No   wonder it stung so much. I say, "I apologized for  that,
Robby... and yes, you  fucking me is much more exciting than me fucking Rajon.
It was a moment of weakness, and he trap..." "Smack!!" "I  don't want to hear
about it! Lets just forget it ever happened." "SMACK!" "Robby! Goddammit! Stop
that." He massages  some more mumbling, "Sorry, I'm jealous,  that's all it is.
I gotta mature some more with the jealousy thing, I guess." I'm like, "I think
jealousy kinda sticks with ya forever." Robby says, "No more  spanking tonight.
Can you lay on your back now so I can suck  me some Dylan penis?" I exclaim,
"Absolutely!"

After more awkward rustling around I'm on my back and Robby's getting on  his
knees on the floor next to the steering wheel, jokingly muttering, "Maybe this
trip down memory lane in my pickup wasn't such a great   idea."  We'd bumped
each other and some of my cooled-down spunk from Robby's crotch got smeared on
my leg and,  trying to be funny, I'm like, "Ewwwww..." Robby does some more
snickering; he's having a good time and,  what the  fuck, he's being a pretty
good sport about my cheating... but still, nothing about his?  To answer his
negative comment about us doing it here, in the pickup, I go, "Hey, I love  this
pickup! You've fucked me some mighty good fucks in this baby." Robby nods his
head, then takes my cock  in his mouth and proceeds to give me some great head.
I feel my cock getting harder and harder as I go back to playing with Robby's
just shampooed two-tone blond hair. It's soft and thick... the hair follicles
aren't thick, they're fine  and silky, but there's so many of them they make for
a think head  of hair. The longest hair on his head is less than two  inches,
but that's plenty long enough to run my fingers through, and it's oh so  sexy
playing with another boy's hair. Robby just milked my nuts dry so there's no
chance I'm gonna spunk again right now, but that don't  mean having my dick
sucked doesn't feel good; it feels better than good!  As a matter of fact, it
doesn't take him long to get me grunting  and wishing I could climax. It can get
to be torturous, needing  to cum, but  mostly that holds true if  you've been
prevented from  doing so I think, and that's not the case for me. Still, I'm
moving around on the seat with Robby making  slurping noises as his mouth licks
and sucks my shiny hard boner. Finally he lifts his head, looks me in the eyes,
and says, "You taste good, Dylan!" and then he leans down to lick my balls for a
minute or so... feels good, those little licks, so  tantalizing.

Then, "Your turn," and, with some difficulty, we switch places with my sloppy
boner bobbing around six inches in front of me, and not helping the  transition,
poking the seat and  Robby, and bouncing against my belly. I take hold of
Robby's cock and start licking and sucking real slow; I  honestly love to suck
my boyfriend's penis, it's an intimate way to demonstrate submissiveness and
it's uber sexy for me at the same time, so I go slow hoping it'll last awhile.
My nose presses against his belly, and  then in his pubic hairs, and it all
smells so fresh and  clean! We took  showers earlier so that's what you'd
expect, except in addition to smelling fresh and clean there's  another  layer
of odor always present with Robby. This other layer of aroma is a much more
subtle scent, it's his naturally sexy and excitingly personal odor that's always
with him. I do a deep inhale of his crotch area trying not to make a lot of
noise  doing it because it's kind of a weird fetish; you know, the thing I have
about the way certain boys smell. I wouldn't want Robby thinking I'm a freak or
something, but, oh my,  does he smell   good, so I do another deep inhale and my
cock bones-up even tighter.  My fingers ruffle his pubic  patch which is sparse
and soft,  except for a group of hairs sticking together from my earlier drooled
cum. Lifting my head, my eyes at the top of their sockets, gazing up at this boy
with a smirk on his face.  His eyebrows raise, like, "Yes,  what is it now, my
cocksucking friend?"   I ask, "Ya wanna  shave our pubes like we used to?" He
motions with his hand that I should get back to sucking his cock and balls,
mumbling, "Can't do it until after baseball season, then okay, sure... we  can
do it then if ya want. Now, get back to licking my balls." Ohhh, his tone of
voice was perfect, the dismissive way about him has my cock leaking. Robby's so
good  at the role playing now that I often wonder how much of it is seen as role
playing in his  mind. As for the shaved pubes I should have known he wouldn't
want guys on the team seeing him  with  shaved pubes,  and I don't blame him. On
the other hand, I want Chubby and me to visit  memory lane, and shaving our
pubes is part of memory lane, so I go,  "Um,  Robb..." and now he does seem
annoyed, he likes having his cock sucked so the expression on his face at this
latest delay is indicating, 'WHAT NOW?'"   I'm sitting back on my ankles looking
up at him, stroking my cock because asking Robby  permission to do something is
arousing the hell out of me. I  stumble, "Ah, I mean... do ya think it would be
okay if I shaved mine?" He's like, "Yeah, yeah, if ya want to," and again with
the hand motion that I need to get back to my cocksucking duties, which I do,
thinking, "YES!" That clears a big hurdle, now for the major one, Chubby; but to
be honest  I  don't see any way he's going  to go along with our old stuff. He's
told me a number of times we've outgrown that stuff and I go, "Speak for
yourself, bro!" Well, we are going home  early  together tomorrow, so I got a
chance.

Stroking Robby's dick a couple of times, getting it harder, and then putting it
back in my mouth as he rests his head contentedly on the back of the seat, his
eyes closed. Soon, I get lost in the sexiness of sucking his cock, rubbing it
against the inside of my cheeks and  against the ridges at the roof   of my
mouth, then  past my gag reflex area at the top of my throat, past my tonsils
and into my throat, bobbing my head. To me it's thrilling to give Robby pleasure
doing this very personal and intimate thing, and in a weird almost contradictory
way, it a power I hold over him too. I say that  because if I stop  he'll lose
the pleasure sensations my mouth's providing him.  It motivates me to suck him
off the best I can, because that's more power I have, even though he's the
dominant one in our  love affair. And, yeah, it's a convoluted  world,  this
world of sexuality. Robby's cock comes out of my throat when I pull my head
away, and his reaction is, "Ooooh, ahh ahh, do  it again..." more a feeble
request than an order. I bob my head back on his boner and it slides down my
throat gagging me some, but I'm mostly used to it now. Holding my breath,
bobbing my head on his hard boner and thereby stimulating the sensors in the
head of his cock causes Robby  to let out a long  "Ooooohhh" and lift his ass
off the seat, then he goes,   "Jeeeesus,  that feels good!" and I taste a few
drops of precum as I pull my head back off his cock, breathing deeply while
casually stroking his sloppy boner, then I lap under his nuts, my nose pressed
against his perfectly formed scrotum. As  I lick his balls I get extremely
aroused; being Robby's submissive cocksucker turns me on as much as it does him.
He's moaning from the pleasure sensations, so it's a perfect fit, we both win.
Robby let's me know  when he  wants  me to begin licking and sucking his
asshole; he slides forward in the seat, like he's doing now, pushing his
buttocks up a little so he's resting mostly on  his lower back, his feet on the
dashboard, a leg on either side of my head.  With my tongue flat against the
back of  his balls  I lean my head sideways and lick to his anus, then over it
feeling the lips of his asshole quiver, then back to press my  tongue right on
his hole.  Sometimes there's an initial acrid  taste of shit, but not tonight.
Rimming is the ultimate submissive act. Robby fucking me gives me the most
pleasure, but on the submissive side this it the top of the mountain, there's
nothing higher as far as I'm concerned.  Talk to guys who are into BDSM and
maybe this would be considered child's play for them,  but for me... rimming
Robby's my grand  prize of submissiveness.

He adjusts his position slightly as I work the tip of  my tongue  in past the
rosy lips of his anus;  lips the same color as the lips of Robby's  beautiful
mouth, and I kiss these anus lips just like I do his other lips. Little by
little I loosen his asshole until my tongue is inside his body working it's way
in deeper. Robby's tightening on my tongue with  rapid short muscle
contractions and I  feel another orgasm coming on so I dare not stroke my
throbbing cock.  If Robby hadn't  milked my balls dry twenty minutes ago I'd
have spunked the front of the seat  by now. Breathlessly, he says, "Oh man,
Dylan... that's awesome, dude, but get up on the seat now 'cause  I need to give
your  ass a good hard fucking..." As I'm getting up off the floor of the pickup,
he adds, "Maybe if I fuck you good enough ya won't need to go running off with
every horny gay boy at Merrimack!"  So he definitely ain't over my little
slip-up with Rajon.  It's so funny that he  acted blase about it at first, and
then  it  simmers in the  back of his mind for hours getting him more and more
pissed.  It'd be better, I think, if he  exploded and got it out of his system
initially. "Hands and knees on the seat, Dylan."  He gets behind me on his knees
and reaches over my back pushing my head down, against the passenger seat's
door, saying, "Hold  still!" then, "Slap!Slap!Slap!" three fast, stinging smacks
on my ass, "Just  tenderizing your bum a little bit," he  mutters, and I go,
"You always say that, but  the truth is you like spanking me!" He chuckles, and
mumbles, "Yeah, I guess I do at that," and "SMACK! SMACK!" and I'm like,  "STOP
THAT!" and then his cock head's at my asshole, and one hard thrust later it's
inside me. Burns too! Then it doesn't burn so much, and with another "Smack!" on
my ass Robby pushes the rest of his four inch cock inside me slowly, painfully,
me clenching my teeth together, a slow withdrawal, a  "SMACK!" on my ass,  and
then in it  comes  again, feeling better and smoother. Two more smooth thrusts
of that fat-headed boner and Robby's gripping my hips, quietly saying, "I got ya
now, don't I  Dylan? Want me to stop?" I know he's just  busting my balls, but I
can't help stuttering, "Na.. na, no! Don't stop! Fuck me, Robby." He chuckles as
I feel two more fabulous humps of his four inches of hard cock, up and out, then
again as my rectum  shivers pleasantly. "Put your head down on the seat," he
says, so I rest my forehead on the leather seat as Robby's mumbling, "I love it
when you do what I say," then he begins pumping my ass slamming his crotch
against  my ass cheeks, making sounds like  slaps. Oh my god! Why did I  think
it was better being the 'top'? Nothing's as hot as this. Robby's grunting now,
his fingers digging into my hips as he pulls my ass into his thrusts, my
forehead sliding on the seat an inch on two backwards and then a few inches
forward as he drives  that  awesome cock up my  ass, the top of  my head hitting
the door with each  strong thrust forward. Even though Robby milked my balls
with the  prostate massage I still feel my nuts working feverishly to
manufacture more spunk as I whimper pathetically, my ridiculously hard boner
flopping against my belly with each thrust of Robby's cock up my ass, and then
on comes another orgasm... it's not much as far  as volume  goes, but it  has me
squealing embarrassingly, like I usually do when Robby fucks me, and out comes a
splat of cum to  smear on my belly and then a gush of wetness in my ass while,
at the same time, Robby's spraying my back with spit hissing through  his teeth
in an attempt to not  make any kind of squeal like I just did;  after all, he's
the dominant top.

My tiny load spent, I concentrate on enjoying the messy humping of my ass which
Robby's happily providing. His climax completed, he continues driving his  boner
up my ass,  splashing cum on my buttocks, until his dick gets too sensitive.
 Pulling it out he lays across my back, his cum drooling from my ass and running
down my thighs.  Catching his breath, Robby kisses the back of my neck,  saying
quietly, "I love you, Dylan.    Sorry if I spanked you too much tonight, but I
was mad about Rajon and you." I go, "It's okay, Robby..." As I say that, I'm
wondering,  "Yeah,  but what about Ryan Wilcocks, and what about us agreeing
that going steady, in the strictest sense, wasn't a good idea?"  Something tells
me to wait it out though, so I don't bring it up. Anyway, I like this right now,
Robby fucking me, then laying on me; I don't want to ruin the mood. He says,
 "Lay flat, okay?" so I do, with my knees bent and my feet up in the air, toes
against the driver's window this time.  Robby lays on my back with his legs bent
just like mine. "Ouuu, I love the feel of your body, Dylan," as he  snuggles on
top of me,  the side of his face next to mine.  His  cum soaked cock is wet
against my left ass cheek and my belly wet with my own recent spurt of cum on
the seat.  After cuddling like this and mumbling  about how nice it is, Robby
reaches back and guides the head of his cock to my hole, then slides it back up
my ass and fucks me with us flat on the seat for about fifteen minutes
complaining, while laughing  at himself,  about his sore cock. Eventually he
grunts and pumps my ass extra hard shooting out a small second  climax, then
pumps my hole fast for fifteen seconds before pulling out going, "Owww, oh man,
I'm sore!" He smacks my ass, then says, "That was awesome! Get up though, I
gotta pee." When I'm up, Robby hops out of the driver's side for a pee in the
parking lot, pulling his pants up from his knees as he's getting out of the
pickup.  While he's peeing I get dressed, which ain't so easy to do sitting in a
pickup  in the dark with cum  drooling out of your ass, but I manage, and I even
remembered to get some  tissues from the glove box to put in my  underpants to
soak up the large amount of spunk up my ass from Robby's two orgasms. It made me
rethink  the Ryan thing again.  Maybe he didn't fuck  Ryan. If he did fuck him
three hours or so ago... okay, he'd still have a load to shoot inside me, but
would he have two as big as the ones  he's just had? I  don't think so, not
three  big orgasms in three hours or so.

When  Robby gets back inside he's real cold, hugging himself, saying, "Get over
here you cute hottie and help warm me up!" And he's hugging my body now, his
face real cold next to  mine. Warmed up, he kisses me a long  soft kiss on my
lips, then says, "You're not mad at me for spanking you are you?" I tell him I'm
not, and it's the truth, I'm not, and as a matter of fact, I got off easy for my
unfaithfulness! Plus I can feel  how much Robby loves me  even though I was
unfaithful so I cling to him. I'm still not inclined to ask him about Ryan as
I'm losing confidence in what I saw.  Maybe I was projecting my own guilt on
them because of what Rajon and I did. Breaking into my musings, Robby rolls the
windows down,  saying, "I'll keep the heat cranked up and  we can have a smoke
in here.  It's wicked cold out there!" He's up-beat and happy lighting  up a
Marlboro and passing it to me, asking, "How was it, Dylan?" Now he  wants
compliments and that really  is just like Robby. He's got this  A-type
personality where he wants to do everything better than everyone else, yet he's
not so confident about being able to accomplish that.  I blow out a long exhale
of smoke, waving my hand at it trying to  guide it out the  window, saying,
"Awesome, dude! That was dynamite hot and I loved it.  Love your bossy ways
too." He takes the cigarette, and mumbles, "Really?" My  boyfriend wants to hear
more so  I pile it on having some good natured fun with it too, but it was a
sincerely hot time in the pickup tonight. "Robby, you get me hotter than
anybody, not that there have been a lot of others, I'm just saying... you rock,
dude! And I'm totally serious, thanks man... and don't you ever even think about
dumping  me." He pats my leg, serious like, and says, "Awww, I'm never gonna
dump you, don't  worry about  that. I love ya more than anything, ya know?" I
was half kidding around, but he's so serious I stay serious and say,"Thanks, me
too." He turns the radio on and it's 'The killers' again with the song 'When You
were Young' so we laugh about that coincidence and sing along with Brandon
Flowers a little. Done with that, I sneak in a reminder of our talk about the
type of 'going steady'we want to follow. "By the way, Robby, what about what you
said earlier... you know, that  we're too young to go exclusively steady?"
Robby's  taking a drag, and as  the smoke  drifts from his mouth, he says,
"Finish this off," and I take a quick drag then flick the butt off the side
mirror and it comes right back in through the open window with Robby laughing,
calling me, "Spazzzz-tic!"  Damn, I had the cigarette flicking under control,
now this embarrassing screw-up.  The butt bounces off my knee, hits the
dashboard and then ricochets under the seat so I'm on hands and  knees fishing
under the seat blindly until I burn my finger, go, "Ah ha!" and come out with
the still smoldering butt which I drop out the  window. Robby's clapping his
hands saying, "Bravo, bravo!" I flash him the finger and he grabs it, that boy
has the fastest reflexes! "Naughty boy!" he goes, and  then lets go of my finger
and ruffles my burr  haircut saying, "I know I fucked up that last haircut, but
you look good with short hair." I go, "Ha! Convenient for  you!" But my
clarifying point about us going steady is  lost in  translation; he said earlier
something about an 'open' relationship... I should just leave it at that.

Robby hasn't forgotten the homework outline we came over here for in the first
place: he's activating the power windows, saying, "Lets  drive over to the
student center and see if someone there has that outline we need. If they do we
can work the project Sunday before supper. Are you aware that you and Chubby and
the moms are coming over our place Sunday afternoon, dad's grilling outside  in
the snow." I go, "Yeah, I heard... that's cool!" Robby backs out of the parking
spot, and I can't resist asking again,  "How 'bout that 'going steady' thing you
talked about?" Robby shrugs, then mumbles, "I know I'm suppose to be the
dominant one, but why do I gotta make all the decisions?" I go, "Duh! That's
what being in charge is all about." Robby asks, "What do you think?" and I am
happy to concur with what he said  earlier, "We're too young for an inflexible
'steady' relationship.  We should have a little openness about it, have an open
relationship with you and me being each other's main boyfriend."  He goes,
"Well, you already exerted your own  'openness plan', didn't ya?"  I go, "That's
the first  slip-up I've  had since we came to Merrimack," which gets Robby
turning his head, and asking,  "Really? Honest to God?" I say, "Cross my heart
on my mom's honor, Rajon's my only one... and he basically attacked me like
Dodger..." "I don't wanna hear the details, Dylan... I just don't. Maybe we can
discuss in a general way what we do in the "open" part of our relationship once
it's officially open, ya know?" That's a little convoluted, but it'll do, so I
just mumble, "Uh huh," and leave it at that.

We're in front of the student center  now, and while  parking, Robby says,
"Since you already started it, I agree we should be able to drift  off the
reservation occasionally, but if we do it all the time why pretend we're going
steady?" I say, "We won't do it all the time, and we'll be safe with it, ya
know?  So we can, you know..." When we're out of the pickup walking towards the
quad, Roddy gets his arm  around my neck, and says, "It's funny you had your
little Rajon on the side today because just before I met you after practice Ryan
Wilcock gave me a blow job. He never finished with it though, we heard something
in the  locker room and it spooked him. He's a goofy  little thing but he gives
good head."  I'm speechless, finally I manage to sputter, "Ya mean, you've been
throwing my  slip-up with Rajon in my face all evening, after I confessed, and
all along you knew you slipped-up too? You've been getting blow jobs from Ryan
all along." Robby kisses my chin, saying, "Didn't ya know, President Clinton
decreed that blow  jobs aren't sexual relations?" He's chuckling, and I'm
almost  afraid to ask, I mean he's so cavalier about the oral sex, which is
cheating on me no matter what Bill Clinton said. I take a chance and ask, "Any
other incidences, other than Ryan, I mean?" Robby goes, "Just a couple, but like
the same way I don't wanna hear about your side  action, I don't want to talk
about mine either." I stop walking, "Two other guys?" Robby's biting his  nails
again, "I was gonna tell you... it just happened." "With who?" Robby squeezes
behind my neck, and says, "I don't wanna say, but  it's not Connor if  that's
what you're  worried about." I guess I'm looking pissed-off, and Robby asks,
"Can I apologize, ask you to forgive me, and we'll   start fresh? Okay?" Hmmm,
this is what I wanted in the first place, but now maybe I can make it seem like
I'm the one being magnanimous about things... I kick at something on the parking
lot, a paper cup or something, and say, "Okay, I'll agree to go along with your
plan. You're in  charge, after all."  He laughs and goes, "You're such a
conniver, but I love ya anyway, Dylan," and he hugs me to him and we do a nice
long kiss right in the middle of the parking lot.

At the door to the quad, Robby says, "You check the guys in the quad for the
outline and I'll check upstairs and meet ya down here in five minutes.  If we
don't come up with it tonight you can come over at eleven tomorrow when the
bookstore opens." I'm like, "Roger that, boss," as I'm pulling open  the door.
Inside  I  turn to the right as Robby's going up the steps straight ahead, two
at a time. Slowly walking around the big area I'm casually looking for someone
in our rhetoric class, but  there's no  one here tonight that I even know, so I
begin asking around, "Anybody have Professor Olden for Rhetoric?" Lots of head
shakes and then Dick Verris stands up with a deck of cards in his hand; he's the
last person I want to see. "What the  hell's your problem now, Newman, you come
up with another word nobody's ever heard  of?" His asshole companion Jarod
Mellincamp is with him, they're playing gin rummy with two guys who look old
enough to be seniors.  The game's apparently over and there's money changing
hands.  I turn my back on him and head for the door, I'm obviously not going to
get the outline here, and I don't want anything to do with that bully-prick. As
I'm walking away, I hear one of the seniors say, "Well, Dick, you got us  good
tonight... lets see,  we each owe you and Mellincamp forty-two  dollars." Dick's
a poor winner of course, he says, "Pay up suckers... it was like taking candy
from a baby... huh, Jarod?" I didn't hear  Jarod's response, but I'll bet
anything  they  cheated!

Robby's not back yet so I'll have a smoke and wait for him outside. That's my
plan anyway, but I don't even get the cigarette lit before Jarod's outside and
in my  face. "Kinda rude not to say hi, isn't it, Newman!" and, just like that
he knocks my beanie off and kicks it, then starts to say  something about my
burr haircut, but I don't give him a chance to finish that thought; instead, I
swing around with all my might and catch him low on his chin with my fist. The
punch was so wild, with two semesters of frustration behind it, that I almost
missed him entirely.  When you just snap out, ya don't give a shit! I'm so sick
of putting up with these two assholes I  don't care what  happens; whatever
comes  of starting this fight couldn't be any worse than  constantly being
harassed, bullied... whatever you wanna call it; it's been making me feel
creepy, like a loser. Jarod's shorter than me and kind  of skinny, but he
recovers from that sucker  punch and comes in swinging. Tough little bastard!
We're doing the typical unsophisticated fighting you see at school of all
levels, flailing punches at each other for all we're worth without either  of us
making much progress until he gets a punch through, right on my nose and I see
stars. I give up boxing with him and dive at his feet, grabbing both his ankles
and pulling them up violently. He goes  over  backwards whacking the back of his
head pretty good on the hard-packed snow. I'm already breathing in short raspy
gulps glancing over my shoulder, and here comes fatso Dick-head Verris.  He's as
tall as me, but much heavier, thicker. Out the door in a flash, he's jogging
quickly  towards me with a sneering grin on his  face.  This is probably  what
he's been working towards all year, to get me to start a fight. Jarod's up but
he's bent over with one hand rubbing his chin and the other feeling at the back
of  his head, temporarily out of commission. His jaw and his whole head probably
aches   something awful; I hope so  anyway.

Turning my full attention to raging bull here, I'm assuming he won't expects me
to stand my ground, so  that's what I do and, when he's just within reach, I'll
try sneaking in a kick to his balls to slow him up a little. I fully expect to
get the shit kicked out of me in the end because he outweighs me by a  ton, and
I'm not that tough to start with. Anyway, I'm not about winning this fight; I
just want to hurt him some and keep some of my self respect. It doesn't bother
me how I go about it either; I mean, I don't know shit about the marcuis of
queensbury rules of boxing or fighting or whatever... this is a street  fight
and I'll hit him with a hammer  if one becomes available. I've been in fights
before, but it's been almost a year since the last one and I was kinda hoping
we'd all outgrow this sort of thing. And sure, my hearts pounding fast and
adrenaline's pouring into my bloodstream making me very  jumpy, but nothing can
be done about that.  When Verris is two steps from me I try kicking his balls
over the building, but he turns and I get his thigh.   He grunts, "You pussy! No
pulling hair, girlie... ya fairy!  Oh man, I'm going to love this." I pretend to
turn and run, but only take one step back, stop, then turn around and do the
same kind of wild  swing I'd connected with Jarod's chin earlier. Verris blocks
it easily with his forearm and drives a punch into my breadbasket that almost
lifts me off the ground.  He's a bull alright; he looks overweight but it's not
blubber, it's hard fat and muscle. He's got this animalistic revolting thick
neck, and those thick wrists  you see on some guys, and oversized hands...
everything twice as thick or twice as big as mine. I go, "Oooofff..." when his
fist buries in my belly, all the air swooshing out of me, and I can't catch my
next breath.  It's  one of those deals where you think  you'll never breath
again, but that isn't my biggest problem; I'm bent over with both arms  around
my stomach and Verris is loading up for an  upper cut to my face.  Seeing it
coming at the last second, I move just enough to take it on my hard forehead and
stars surround me, bells go off and a dull ache rings and pounds in my head.

After a second, the roaring in my head turns to a scary deep  silence, and then
in comes oxygen filling my lungs once again and my hearing adjusts back to
normal. I'm able to back away from another round house from Verris who swung and
wiffed so hard he stumbles over his own feet and hits the ground. A  big break
for me  except Jarods feeling better  now and has snuck up behind me, he uses a
foot to sweep my feet together and I fall onto the snow-covered sidewalk with a
thud, but I fall next to a discarded long-neck Miller Lite bottle under a shrub.
Ya know, college kids  are so  thoughtless, they'll toss empty beer bottles
anywhere they  happen to be when they've finished with it. To be fair though,
there are metal trash  cans next to the door, so maybe the kid  tried tossing
the bottle in the trash can and it ricocheted off to land here.  I'm hurting,
especially my head and stomach, but I'm also very pissed off and  therefore very
motivated. I get the neck of the beer bottle in my fist and quick as a cat jump
up swinging it at Jarod, figuring he  might  be discouraged easier than
Dick-head Verris would be. The bottle connects with Jarods elbow and he begins
making a satisfactory howling cry of pain. Dick tackles me then, and the bottle
rolls away. Underneath this  heavy fat ape things begin  going very wrong for me
because I can hardly move and now Jarod's in a kicking frenzy; kicking whatever
part of me he can reach while Dickhead's swinging short, hard punches into my
ribs. I'm using both arms protecting my head from the kicks, but Jarod's boots
are doing some damage to my arms and  legs and I'm beginning to think I may have
bit off more than I  should have, then I  hear a scream.  I think it's from
Jarod 'cause it sounded a little like the way he screamed when I hit him with
the beer bottle, but I can't see much. Then I see Robby... and the expression on
his  face is one I've  never seen before.  I don't think I've ever seen him
sincerely pissed off, but he appears to be pissed-off now. He's  got Jarod by a
fist full of hair pulling him backwards bending Jarod at the waist.  As he
slowly takes steps backward, pulling Jarod with him, Robby's wailing away at the
kid's face with his free fist;  blood sprays off Jarods face  with every punch.
Verris moves amazingly fast for someone his size; he's off me and up, going for
Robby in a flash. I yell, "Behind you!" and Robby whips Jarod in a circle
pushing him into raging bull.  Both Verris and Jarod go down, followed by
Robby's feet flying in a frenzy of kicks connecting to their heads, backs, and
faces.  He's not even looking  at me, saliva's flying from his mouth as he's
muttering, "You  motherfuckers, how's this ya  motherfuckers!". Finally Jarod
rolls away from the pile as Robby concentrates on Verris who's covering-up his
head with his arms, and slowly getting to his feet. Through the snow I limp over
after Jarod to make sure he's done for the evening. Dropping down on his back
with both my knees, he lies there  in the snow grunting, then says  something I
haven't heard since grade  school, "I give, I give!" his hands covering his
face.  I stand up, it's the honorable thing to do  when someone surrenders, and
then I kick  the shit out of his ribs with three or four good, well balanced
kicks; mocking him, mumbling, "Me too, I give up too!" Fuck honorable!

Getting my senses back I glance over to see Verris and Robby wrestling. Verris
has Robby in a headlock so I run over and jump on his back taking Verris by
surprise which allows Robby to break free and swing a great  roundhouse punch
getting Verris on the  temple which wobbles him, then he stumbles a couple of
steps with me yanking at his neck trying to choke him to death;  he purposely
falls backwards on top of me, then jumps up and comes after me growling and
looking insanely dangerous. I'm backpedaling as Robby comes up behind Verris
with a metal trash can lid in his hand, held like a shield, and starts hammering
it on Verris' head. Robby's not into any particular set of fair-fighting rules
and regulations either. Verris goes down again and now Robby's   going nuts
smashing that fucking lid  on Verris's  head. Watching in shock, for a second,
then my memory registers that it was Robby who tried to kill that psycho Joel by
sabotaging his ride-on mower a couple of years ago. He did it to protect me,
although I didn't know it at the time.  Frankly, Robby's out of control, he's in
a dangerous rage that frightening me and I don't see him stopping the carnage
unless I can get him to stop, so I'm on his  back now trying to hold onto his
arm, the one  that's got the lid, yelling, "No! No! That's enough!  Stop!!
 Robby, no!" Robby has spit drooling down his chin as he twists his head around
to look at me with eyes I've never seen  before; scary looking eyes, I try for
calm and quiet, "Please, Robby... you win.  You saved me, please lets go before
the campus police show up. Ya know, fighting on the campus could get us
expelled." He nods his head like a zombie, drops the mangled lid on Verris'
head, who's covered-up with his arms the  same way I did when  Jarod was trying
to kick my skull in. Robby  backs up like he doesn't know where he's at, and
mutters, "Okay, okay... lets go," his face is quickly losing all it's color and
I'm thinking the adrenaline in his system is probably draining away and it's
going to make him sick to his stomach. Dick-head Verris is peeking out behind
his arms seeing us backing away, so he begins sitting up, yelling,  "You're a
sick motherfucker, Dickers, and I'm gonna kill you  the next time I see ya.  You
won't have no fucking trash can to save your ass next time.." He said more stuff
but we're around the corner of the building slowly walking to the pickup, and
can't hear it all. Robby seems totally  unconcerned what Verris has to say
anyway as he holds out the truck keys, saying, "You drive," then bends  over and
throws-up in the snow. I pat his shoulder, noticing a big rip in his winter
coat, and blood on  his sleeve. Another round of throwing-up has  me looking
away, 'cause  it's gross! Taking a deep breath while standing there waiting for
Robby to finish I'm just realizing how sore all over I feel, but  it's nothing
compared to how bad I'll feel tomorrow. Then I remember my favorite hat, my
peruvian beanie has been left behind. Dammit! I look back but there's no way I'm
going over there again tonight.  Maybe they'll overlook it and I can rescue it
tomorrow morning.

Robby's done vomiting so we get in the pickup and both begin quiet moaning and
bitching about our aches and pains interspersed with outburst of hate for
Dick-head Verris and his monkey, Jarod Mellincamp. I then go on a long thank-you
to Robby for saving my ass and he's liking it that he's my hero. Laying against
the door, out of energy, Robby's too exhausted now to even curse  Verris as I'm
telling him how awesome he is. After a bit, he says, "Dylan, when I  saw  those
two doing a tag-team match on you all I saw  was red, I completely lost my mind
and went Middle Ages on their asses."  I chuckle, knowing where that 'line' came
from, then mumble, "Love that movie, don't we, Robby?"  And  we talked about how
cool 'Pulp Fiction' is... we've seen it  on cable three or four times.  It's a
relief to step away from fight talk, but let me tell ya, a fight takes a lot out
of you, and of course it  settles nothing, and as a matter of fact it often
intensifies the bad feelings.  If it's a fair fight among peers sometimes the
combatants become friends  afterwards... mutual respect kind of thing.  This is
a bullying situation though, much different.  I ask Robby, "We gonna need to
fight those two shitheads every time we see them?" He says, "Maybe once more,
but maybe not. You know that thing about bullies basically being cowards and
when someone stands up to them, they back down.   Or more likely, they'll
reevaluate the benefits  they derive from bullying you and rationalize it away
in their minds somehow.  I don't care one way or the other... I kinda liked that
fight." I'm glancing at him sideways as I drive, wondering if I should bring up
the Joel incidence, but  think better of it. As I'm pulling into our apartment
complex, Robby asks, "How'd the fight start anyway, when I got out there when
you were well into it?" I  told him about it as we walk into our apartment. We
both look very much like we've been in a fight, and like I said, tomorrow we'll
have many hurting areas on  our bodies to remind us of that fact.  Robby asks,
"Showers?" and I go, "Lets do it together." As we're undressing I thought about
the three beers I had before the fight... would I have been as aggressive with
Jarod if I hadn't had the beers? Many mysteries in our daily lives, and
coincidences too. Yeah, like those two being in the quad on  a Friday night.
Robby and I have never been there on a  Friday night, prior to tonight. My main
concern is if the fight's gonna turn out to be a good thing for me, or a bad
thing that gets worse and worse? Fuck, now I'm thinking I shouldn't have lost my
cool...

to be   continued....

Donny Mumford    thinat20@yahoo.com