Date: Tue, 21 Jul 2015 13:18:54 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: Dylan's Georgia Vacation Chapter  1

DYLAN'S Georgia Vacation


Chapter  1


by  Donny Mumford



It's Monday and the last  final exam of my sophomore year has been taken,
so I'm now officially at the  halfway point in my college career. Two more
years at Merrimack and I'll be  looking for a job like most graduating seniors
from all the colleges and  universities across America. Sophomore year was
a success socially, I thought,  speaking only for myself. As for
academically, it was also a success for those  of us in Robby's study group. We all
improved our GPA scores, so that's good  because getting good grades is sort of
the point of going to college for most of  us. I'm referring to those of us
in generic degree programs. The generalized  material we memorize for exams
is then quickly forgotten because it's basically  useless in the real
world. What's on my radar screen presently is three months  of  summer break.
Beginning with grade school, through middle school and  high school, and now
college I've had many summer breaks from education and  pretty much loved all
of them, but this one's going to be different. The  majority of this year's
summer break I'll be away from home living and working  with Ryan in
Marietta, Georgia. All the teary goodbyes with my mom, Tris,  Chubby, and Robby are
over now, and I'm left staring into the unknown alone.  Well, that's a bit
overly dramatic because I'll be with Ryan, but other than  that almost
everything I'll experience will be a new to me.


Right now Robby's driving  his pickup truck to a dealership where he'll
trade it in for a new one. My  brother, Chubby, is already home because he
finished his exams last Friday. That  leaves just Ryan and me in the apartment
getting ready for our trip to Georgia.  Ryan's just finished giving me one of
his ridiculously short haircuts claiming  it'll remind me that he's
in-charge this summer. His reasoning for that is  flawed, but it doesn't really
matter. He thinks if I'm submissive to him it will  satisfy my submissive
fetish reducing the danger of me falling under some  dominant madman's control.
Yeah, sure... Well, at times I do enjoy being  submissive during sex and I even
like someone being 'in-charge' outside of sex,  but I'd never allow myself
to fall victim to a dominant sex partner the way Ryan  has. I've never been
a victim and I never will be one. The fact is I can't  maintain a submissive
attitude for any extended period of time because real life  intrudes even
during sex games. In my early sexual experimentation I allowed  myself to be
mistreated occasionally, but for only short periods of time, like  twenty
minutes or a half hour. Like that. As an experiment one time I tried  being
submissive to Willie in Key West, but that didn't even last a day and a  half
before fizzling out, and I was really trying to stretch it out too. Bottom
line: I'm not concerned about it. I'll let Ryan be concerned enough for both
of  us. On second thought he ought to be concerned about himself because he
has a  history of slipping back under someone's influence, most recently
with the  fuckwad this year, so he's way more at risk than me.


Hell, I know Ryan has only  best intentions for me so I figure what's the
harm if he thinks he's helping me.  My reason for trying this new experience
is quite different from his. For me it  has to do with challenging myself to
deal with the alien environments known as  Marietta, Georgia, Mr. and Mrs.
Wilcox, and working for Ryan. Working for him  when I'm not even sure what
I'll be doing on the job. Anyway, by dealing with  these unknowns I'll
hopefully become more mature. Ta da, just like that.  Actually I've made some
progress in the area of maturity since going away to  college, but I haven't
been on my own yet. I want to be able to handle  situations without leaning on
my brother, family, or friends. It would be kind  of admirable of me if I
conceived of this self-help plan myself, but the truth  is it's mostly because
of happenstance I'm going to Georgia, and then I  naturally rationalized to
myself that it'll be good for me. Nope, there was no  preconceived
self-help plan. It came about more from jealousy than anything  else. Robby told me
his other boyfriend, Danny Monday, would be working on his  crew this summer
and living with him, so in a pout I accepted Ryan's offer to  spend this
summer living and working with him. Handling unknown situations and  becoming
more mature were afterthoughts. Whatever, I'm in it now and I'll try to
make the best of it because it's too late to change plans anyway. As far as the
 submissive thing goes: Ryan will be my boss at work, and inherently that
means  me as his employee I must be somewhat submissive to him. The entire
arrangement  of him being my boss and me living in his house basically puts me
in a  submissive position whether I like it or not. It'd pretty much put
anybody in a powerless position.  Anyway, that's a long explanation for why
I tolerate Ryan giving me these stupid haircuts, and why I recognize, by
default  basically, that he's in-charge.


Ryan and I have had a hot  sub/dom sexual relationship together for like
two years now and he's always been  in the dominant role with that, so it's
not much of a stretch to see him being  in charge of other things this summer
as well. None of this is that big of a  deal if done within reason, and I'll
be the one who decides whether it's within  reason or not. So okay, Ryan's
in-charge, and before we leave the apartment he  has some rules I'll need to
follow. What the hell, I'm already feeling a bit  submissive from
subjecting myself to Ryan's haircutting, so I mumble, "Sure, why  not some rules,"
and sit in the chair he told be to sit in with Ryan standing in  front of me.
He's full of confidence now, but generally speaking he's only real
confident when it's just the two of us. When Robby or my brother, Chubby, are
around they kinda intimidate Ryan, but they've left, so let's hear the rules.

Looking overly serious and  confident, Ryan holds up a finger, saying,
"This is rule number one, Dylan:  During the trip home we split the cost of
everything fifty/fifty. Gas, motels,  meals, tolls, whatever. Oh, and my mom
wants to see all the receipts from the  trip too." What the fuck? I raise my
hand, making him grin, as I ask, "Why does  she need to see the receipts?" He
shrugs, "It's kind of embarrassing to admit,  but she'll compare them to my
debit card account to verify I've paid for only my  share." I go, "Um, I
still don't get it. Won't she take your word for it? And  anyway I fully expect
to pay my share, so why would she...?" Damn, my already  limited submissive
feeling is slipping away because I need to question this  bizarre nonsense.
Ryan's obviously embarrassed for his mother, as well he should  be. He blows
out a long exhale, then shrugs, "Um, she has this ridiculous notion  you'll
take advantage of me. She figures since I've never had any real friends
growing up, um, there must be something fishy going on that all of a sudden
I've  got a friend like you." Something fishy? I go, "What kind of saying is
that? Who  the fuck says, 'something fishy'?" He's uncomfortable now, "Um,
well when I  showed mom your picture she had a hard time believing someone like
you could  conceivable be my friend, never mind my boyfriend. She's very
dubious, she  suspects the worst, thinking either I'm lying or you're playing
me for a fool."  I'm like flabbergasted, muttering, "Are you fuckin'
serious?" He blushes, "Yeah,  mom can conjure up some crazy scenarios in her head
when it comes to me." I go  for a little sarcasm, "Well, I'm flattered she
feels I'm too good for you, but  that part about me being a con artist. I've
got a problem with that." He's  shaking his head, "No, no! It's not just you,
Dylan. She's like that with  everybody." Jesus, what a piece of work she
is! I'm a bit  dubious too. Of his mother obviously, and now Ryan's lost his
confident demeanor, imploring me, "Dylan, I know you'd never take advantage
of  me, but both mom and dad are overly protective of me, that's all." And
what a  load of bullshit that is! For one thing, the last four or five years
Ryan's been  badly abused physically and mentally by sadistic dominant sex
partners, which  means at times he'd go home roughed-up and depressed. His
explanation to his  parents for the black eye, or split lip, or whatever was
he got his injuries  playing schoolyard sports, and they'd say, "Oh, another
accident, huh." Like  that was enough explanation for them. Oh yeah, some
over-protective parents they  are. They basically didn't want to be bothered.


After that unbelievable  explanation for rule number one, Ryan wants to
move away from that dicey topic.  He holds up two fingers; then, with less
emphasis, says, "The second rule is,  um, I make all the decisions during the
drive home. Ya know, simple things like  deciding when and where we stop, when
and where we eat, and when and where we  sleep." His rules probably sounded
okay to him in his head when he was writing  them down, but now saying them
out loud he's probably having second thoughts. As  he's talking, I can't
stop feeling my hair with my fingertips. In some places  Ryan cut it so short
it feels like fine sandpaper. When I'm not feeling my hair,  I'm smelling
the back of my hand which is a habit I picked-up from Dougie  Hamilton. Every
time I do it Ryan reaches over and pulls my hand away, saying,  "Pay
attention." I'm like, "I am paying attention," but actually I'm still  mulling over
his mother's worries that I'll take advantage of her son. Yeah, I'm  a
little fixated on that preposterous notion. Ryan stops talking, chews on his
bottom lip, perhaps trying to recapture his confident manner. With a renewed
determined look on his face, he says, "Stand up, Dylan." I slowly get up,
and he  says, "Don't slouch. Stand up straight." So I do an exaggerated
standing at  attention like I'm in the Marines. Hell, my haircut looks like
something a  gung-ho marine would have. Ryan stands right in front of me, saying,
"Forget  about my mom for now. I'm keeping the receipts and we'll leave it
at that,  okay?" I shrug, "Yeah, whatever."


After staring at me for a  few seconds, he says, "You may think I'm an
asshole for outlining these rules,  but if you're going to do the thing with me
this summer you need to do it my  way. Right or wrong, I think this summer
will be helpful to you, so give it a  chance. You know I only want good
things for you, but I've gotta be in-charge if  it's going to do you any good."
Oh brother! I just stare back at him, so he  says, "Right now, tell me if you
agree." I mumble, "I agree." He goes, "You  don't even know what you agreed
to. Asks me if I'll do it for you." Oh fuck,  he's serious? We're not
getting off to a good start, but to humor him I go,  "Will you please be
in-charge this summer?" He says, "Ask me again, and mean  it," so I ask him
sincerely and he says, "Yes, I'll do it for you, but you'll  need to follow these
rules I'm trying to outline for you." He reaches over and  puts his hand on my
head, "The haircuts I give you, like this one, should be a  reminder that
I'm in charge. Ask me to continue giving you whatever haircuts I  want you to
have." I'm like, "Sure, Ryan, but is this quiz necessary? I didn't  get a
chance to study for it." He goes, "Everything's a joke to you, and yeah,
this is necessary! That's if you wanna come with me this summer. Or I can give
you a ride home right now." Hmmm, there's a thought! Yeah, except I'm
feeling my  submissiveness returning a little bit, so I go, "No problem, the
haircut's  fine." He says, "Good, we're in agreement then. Am I right?" My dick
moves a  tiny bit in my pants 'cause I like the way I'm feeling now that
Ryan's got his  dominant mojo working again, "Yes, Ryan." He can do 'dominant'
pretty good, but  my problem is I'm never sure if I'm playing a game with
him just because it's  cool to be submissive for awhile, or if I'm actually
feeling submissive to him.  Unfortunately I'm leaning towards the 'game'
theory.


We're still standing with  Ryan staring at me, his face close to mine. I
stare back at him trying not to  grin, but I'm again sensing a kind of
submissive powerlessness, or  something. But I'm still not sure if it's a real
submissiveness or if it's me  just going along with the flow to see were it
goes. Considering the reality of  my situation though, the facts remain that
we're driving to Georgia in Ryan's  car, I'll be living with his family, his
mother's suspicious of me already, plus  I'll be working under Ryan. These
are the facts, so what the fuck, I am kinda  powerless for real. On the other
hand I could blow this whole thing off whenever  I feel like it. There are
two reasons I'm not inclined to do that though: one,  so far I'm kind of
enjoying Ryan's little Napoleon act, and two, I still have my  objective of
gaining some maturity by dealing with all of this bizarreness. Ryan  says,
"Okay, you can sit down," so I suppress another grin and immediately sit,  acting
overly attentive for a couple of seconds. Ryan gives me a 'look', then
gets back to business, saying, "It's about an eleven hundred mile drive to
Marietta. I'm breaking up the drive into no more than seven hours on the road
per day. Without traffic jams we should cover approximately three hundred
miles  each day. Not today of course because we're not leaving here until like
two  o'clock this afternoon." I nod my head like this is all mucho
interesting, and  he asks, "How many hours of driving was it when you guys went to
Fort  Lauderdale?" I mumble, "We drove straight through in a little over a
day."  Rolling his eyes, he says, "No offense, but that was dangerously
stupid." Huh,  I'm feeling weird again somehow... sort of lazy too.

I know from experience my  initial submissive sense came from the haircut a
little while ago, and that was  authentic, but since then its been up and
down submissive-wise for me. He did  call me on the fact I wasn't paying
attention and that helped me retain some  form of a submissive demeanor. And
anyway I'm not complaining about that part  because it's a nice relaxing
feeling. I do, however, have serious doubts that  even a small amount of
submissiveness on my part can be maintained for very  long, and no chance it'll work
all summer. Zero chance of that. Hate to  disappoint Ryan, but it is what it
is. Picking up on what Ryan's been saying, I  hear, "... about a hundred
fifty miles, then stop at a motel. That'll leave  almost a thousand miles to
go. So, lets see, today's Monday and if I've figured  correctly we'll be home
before lunch time on Friday. Got it?" My fingers are  feeling my sandpaper
hair again as I'm absently nodding my head in agreement  with whatever he's
been saying. Now Ryan appears to be a bit exasperated when he  says, "Speak
up, Dylan." I'm like, "Sorry, I mean, yes, I've got it. Friday's  lunch. and
what was the other thing...?" It's been kind of bothering me that Ryan  says
things like,  'we'll be home' or, 'when we're home' and things like  that.
It's home for him of course, but not for me. I don't know why it bothers  me
that he doesn't differentiate who's home it is, but it does bother me. He
should say something like, 'when we get to my place', or 'my home,' like
that.  It's never going to be my home. Jesus, unless he thinks it will be one
day...


Shaking his head he holds up  three fingers now and I'm not at all sure I
heard the rest of rule number two.  Fuck! He says, "And rule number three is
'no arguing'. When I decide something  you should feel free to offer an
alternative suggestion. In fact I want you to  if you have one, but no arguing
about my final decision. Okay so far?" I nod my  head still trying to member
the rest of rule number two. Ryan puts a finger  under my chin lifting my
head, saying, "Can you speak?" He's smiling and I'm  glad to see his
confidence appears to be restored. The way he's speaking is sort  of hypnotizing,
which is why I'm sort of spaced out. Is this the real Ryan  though? Looking at
him closely it surprises me I feel sexual heat for him and  that I think
he's think he's sexy. It's always surprised me. Surprising because  of his
silly pompadour, and his little eyeglasses that are slipping down his  nose, and
he's slim and small. That shouldn't be sexy, but for some reason it is  to
me. Huh, smelling the back of my hand again, I say, "Yeah, Ryan, it's all
okay. I'm not gonna argue with you." He reaches over to pull my hand away
from  my nose, mumbling, "I don't want you doing that. My parents will wonder
what's  wrong with you." What's wrong with me? How 'bout what,the fucks wrong
with them?  He asks, "Okay? You won't do that, right?" and he had a nice
authoritative tone  to his hypnotizing voice making me squirm in the chair a
little, saying, "I'm  sorry, and yeah, I won't do it." He nods his head
smiling, saying, "Thanks, I  appreciate it."


He looks at a 3 X 5 index  card and says, "Now for rule number four," and
he holds up four fingers. "No  smart-ass attitude from you, my friend. Okay?
I know you like to be ironic and  clever at times, but my parents don't
appreciate that kind of thing. They'll  think it's rude. So none of that, and
since you won't be doing that around them,  you might as well not do it around
me either." Ooh, way to go, Ryan! That had a  nice dominant sound to it. I
can get submissive to that, heh heh. Yeah, but my  head feels heavy now and
I'd like to lay down. People without a submissive  fetish can't understand
how good it can feel. Good because it's a dreamy feeling  without any
responsibility. Of course it can be a bad thing too. Bad if you  don't have a
filter that tells you when things are getting out of hand. Without  this filter
you wind-up in situations like Ryan's past experiences and that's  not good!
This current, harmless dominant attitude of Ryan's with his silly
unnecessary rules is about as dangerous as having too much caffeinated coffee  while
cramming for a final exam. Oh, and I just remembered another aspect of my
genius self-help program. It's getting use to hearing 'no' for an answer, you
 know, once in awhile. That never happens with Chubby and rarely with
Robby, but  Ryan says 'no' to me occasionally so, ya know, it's all good so  far.


Oops, I wasn't listening to  him again. He's holding up five fingers so
this must be something about rule  number five. I hear, "... in a neutral
manner. Obviously you could say, 'Yes,  sir', in a way that conveys insolence or
insincerity. My dad will pick up on  that in a nanosecond. Okay?" Huh, a
'yes, sir' and 'no, sir' family. Yeah, he  mentioned that before. Uh oh, Ryan's
staring at me again, then he asks, "Are you  even listening?" I'm like,
"Yes," and I do my absurd fast head-nodding. Fucking  habits! I picked that one
up from when Ryan used to do it to me and Robby. He  steps over rubbing my
head, "Giving you this haircut put you in a docilely  submissive frame of
mind, didn't it? And then when I made you ask me to be  in-charge and all
that, you got submissive again, right?" I shrug, "Yeah, I  guess." He's just
subtly telling me he can put me in a submissive mood if he  wants, but that's
not true. I need to feel like doing it. Raising my hand again  gets Ryan
laughing, then I ask, "Um, are we done with the rules now?" He leans  down and
kisses me on the lips, then grins, saying, "Okay, enough with the rules  for
now. There are more, but you need to load your clothes into the Mini Cooper
and then we should get something to eat before hitting the road." I pucker
my  lips, then make a odd mouth sound sucking my lips apart. Ryan chuckles,
"What  the fuck's up with you?" He rubs my head again, mumbling, "Maybe I
should give  you this haircut every other day, huh?" Another puckered mouth
sound from me,  and he goes, "Stop messing around and lets get your shit
loaded in the car. I'll  help you." I have no idea why I was making those goofy
lip sounds. Maybe because  I'm incapable of taking any of this shit too
seriously. See what I mean about me  needing to act more mature. As I get my
duffle bag of clothes I'm grinning to  myself thinking of all the things I could
do to get Ryan's mother  double-checking those receipts. Maybe I should
black out some totals on the  receipts to get her suspicious as hell that I
made Ryan pay some of my share.  Heh heh, that'd be a mature thing to do.


We load my clothes into the  car with Ryan's giving me funny looks,
probably because he's not sure if I'm  messin' with him or what. I'm not sure
either, but I feel my submissive trance,  such as it was, fading quickly. If he
continued with his rules lecture, just  listening to his voice might have
maintained some of that dreamy submissive  sense for me. A submissive trance is
what I imagine being hypnotized would feel  like. It's all basically gone
now though. In the car Ryan drives cautiously out  of the parking lot,
saying, "What do you feel like having for lunch, Dylan?"  Fuck, I'm back to
normal, "How about we share a Pizza Factory pizza, boss." He  goes, "Yeah, Pizza
Factory or Sal's Pizza, either one sounds good." The Pizza  Factory is
closest so Ryan drives us there, asking, "Um, did you even listen to  my first
five rules?" I repeat the gist of the five, guessing correctly at the  fifth,
then ask, "What's with the formal, 'Yes, sir' stuff?" He says, "It's a
southern thing I guess. Anyway it's how my parents were raised and then me too.
That's before we moved north a couple of years ago. It just seems natural to
 me." I shrug, "It's no big deal I guess. Do you want me to say it to you
too?"  He shakes his head, "Of course not, don't be stupid." I go, "If you
don't mind,  I'd appreciate it if you'd lighten-up on the word 'stupid' when
referring to  me." He goes, "Sorry, it's a Freddie thing. A British thing.
They don't mean  anything by it. Like dog's bollocks, or gobsmacked, which
sounds nasty but means  amazed. Freddie also says bugger off, which means
scram, and fagged, meaning to  disturb or bother someone, I think." I'm grinning,
"Fuckin' Brit's, huh? Fag  means a cigarette too, right?" Ryan laughs
telling me a couple more of Freddie's  British slang. Then he says, "I'm almost
sure he's bisexual, but I never got to  first base with him. I'll bet you
could have though." I say, "Well, I kinda  prefer a guy approaching me with an
unmistakable message that he'd like to  explore a little gay sex with me. I
prefer that much more than me initiating  anything along those lines
myself." Then I almost tell him how Tracy approached  me assuming I'd do it with
him. Talk about a guy with a confident manner, but  really nice about it too.
I don't think Tracy's 'out' as bisexual yet, so I  don't say anything about
our quick fucks. Instead I mumble, "In other words, and  this is no brag,
but I don't usually need to ask for it, ya know?" He gives me a  'look', then
says, "You've asked me for it, haven't you?" I go, "Oh, yeah,  that's
different. I mean I don't ask the first time, but once the relationship's
established, ya know, then it's anything goes." He nods his head, unconvinced
perhaps, so I add, "You asked me first. It was at lunch that time at the
apartment. Remember?" He goes, "Yeah, I believe I do recall something like  that."


When we're at the Pizza  Factory I order a large cheese pizza and as soon
as we sit at a table to wait  for it, I get a cellphone call from Robby. We
talk for a few minutes with him  telling me all about his new pickup. I hear
Danny in the background saying  something, and then Robby goes, "Danny wants
me to tell you the car salesman  complimented us on our flat tops, saying
he had one just like it when he was  about our age." Then Robby wants to say
something to Ryan and I pass the phone  to him.  Ryan's like, "Hi, Rob," and
then he's listening, before saying, "I  know that, and of course I
wouldn't." He listens again, and agitated now he  goes, "Fer chrissakes, Rob, feel
free to check up on us any fucking time you  want." He listens some more,
getting a little red in the face, then he mumbles,  "I will. Bye," and hands me
the phone. Robby and I talk for a few more minutes  ending with, "Love you
too, Rob."  Looking at Ryan for a second as he's  smelling the back of his
wrist looking pissed off, I ask, "What'd he say to  you?" Ryan shrugs,
"Nothing I don't already know. Basically he's your  boyfriend... and I'm not.
That's what it boils down to. Oh, and he says he'll be  visiting." I'm like,
"Huh, he's visiting us in Georgia?" Another frown from  Ryan, "That's what he
threatened, but I don't know what mom will say about that.  Three gays in her
house might send her over the edge." I go, "Maybe Danny could  come too and
they'd be four of us outnumbering your folks two to one." He tries  staying
pissed-off, but chuckles instead, mumbling, "That'd be something to see
alright."


It's awkward for a bit, then  I ask, "What's rule six?"and he clears his
throat,  "Oh, um, a review of  our chores," but he said it like a question.
I'm like, "Uh huh, chores, which  will be what?" He waves his hand like it's
nothing, saying, "I've already told  you about those things, Dylan," and I
go, "I forget." He taps his fingers on the  table while smelling the back of
his hand again and I burst out laughing because  he's picked that habit up
from me and we'll both probably be doing it in his  house freaking his parents
totally out. He doesn't know why I laughed so he  probably didn't even
realize it. I go, "Sorry, someone outside made me laugh  and... oh forget about
that. Um, could you run over the chores again for me?" He  blushes a little,
saying, "Okay, but they're nothing important. We clear the  table after
meals, cut the grass, take out the trash, keep our room neat, do the  wash, and
sometimes a special project like cleaning out the garage or something.
That's all there is to it." I smell the back of my hand thinking about that.
Ryan reaches over and takes my hand away from my nose, "Don't do that, it's
looks weird." I mumble, "You did it yourself a minute ago," and he says, "I
did  not!" I go, "Ya did too and you smelled my wrist once and said it was a
sexy  nice smell." He shrugs, "Yeah, I can smell it, but not you." I ask, "Is
that  rule number seven?" He laughs, and says, "Yeah, lets make it rule
seven." I nod  my head, "Okay, if you say so." Ryan says, "You're being so
awesome, Dylan.  Thanks for not mocking my rules." Good thing he can't read my
mind.  I  shrug like it's nothing, mumbling, "Hey, I'm a team player, dude.
I'm with the  program, ya know?" He makes a face, "Yeah, when you feel like
it," and I mutter,  "You sound like Rob now." He says, "Seriously, I thought
if I laid everything  out now we'll avoid misunderstands later?" I smile,
"Yep, I agree, boss, you're  right again." Then I hold up a finger, "Um, that
thing about doing the wash  though. Could you be a little more specific?" He
laughs, "Oh, I see what you  mean. We do our wash, not their's," and I go,
"Okay then, no problem." He grins,  "Ya don't want to wash my old man's
underpants or momma's bras, huh?" I chuckle,  "That would be correct."


Ryan's forgotten Rob's phone  call by now and he's back to beaming again
with an eager expression on his face,  like everything's cool. I'm feeling
okay so far too because Ryan almost always  has a very nice way about him,
especially when he's in his 'in-charge' mode. He  has a kind of cute in-charge
demeanor, cute like him. Of course we've only been  into this stuff for an
hour so far, ha ha, so ya know. I say, "You're awesome  too, Ryan, and just so
ya know I kinda get the hots for you sometimes, like when  you're
confidently telling me your rules." He's like, "Really?," like a little  kid, his
eyes shining. He leans forward lowering his voice, "Ya know what? I'm  gonna
fuck you awesomely tonight for telling me that. Thanks, it made me feel  good.
I just know we're going to have a great summer." As I'm grinning at his
enthusiasm, our number's called for our pizza. Ryan nods his head that I
should  go pick it up. Oh fuck, that made my dick move in my pants again.. bossy
little  Ryan. I get up and do what I'm told, thinking this might be a better
summer than  I expected. Robby's phone conversation with Ryan put him
temporarily off his  game, but he's back in the saddle now. I like seeing Ryan
feeling confident, and  I totally know how happy he is that I'll be with him
this summer. Like I said  before though, he's only relaxed enough to be
confident when it's just him and  me, others make him uncomfortable and unsure of
himself, and I gotta wonder why  that is.


While eating the pizza we're  calculating where we'll be after driving a
hundred and fifty miles today. Ryan  has a printout of our route to his place
and our best guess for today is we'll  get off I-84 at exit 17. There's a
Motel Six close to the exit and that's where  we plan to spend the night. As
we leave the Pizza Factory Ryan tells me he'll  drive the first leg of our
journey, which consist of route 495 to the Mass Pike,  and then at the exit
where we'll connect with I-84 I'll take over and drive to  exit 17. It'll only
take us about three hours total, but by then it'll be  rush-hour traffic
and we want to avoid that whenever possible. This is the route  we took to
Fort Lauderdale for the most part, but Ryan wasn't with us. According  to him
we don't have any real time table, so we can take it as easy as we want  as
long as we get to his house by the weekend. We start work the following
Monday. Getting to his house before lunch on Friday is only possible if we don't
 take any side trips along the way.


Behind the wheel on route  495 Ryan's daredevil driving for him, almost
driving at the speed limit.  Obviously cars are whizzing by us and that's
nerve-racking for me, but doesn't  bother Ryan at all. I ask him, "Did ya ever
get a speeding ticket? I'm guessing  ya never have." He glances over, "You
guessed correctly. What's the point of  speeding? If I drive ten miles an hour
over the speed limit we'll get there a  few minutes earlier than if I more
safely drive just under the speed limit."  That sounds like a crock to me,
but I don't feel like doing the math. Anyway,  what would be the point of
arguing about it. And, oh fuck, that's rule three  anyway, ha ha... no arguing.
Good rule. I teasingly ask, "How many times have you  been rear ended?" He
gives me his aggravated 'look', then says, "That would be  'never', I've never
been rear ended."  I shrug giving him a grin. Ryan doesn't do much talking
because he says he needs  to concentrate on his driving. I wonder what number
that rule  is?


The convertible top's up  because it's a little chilly on this day in the
middle of May. Putting the top  down going sixty-five miles an hour would
look cool, but it's not practical.  Plus, this way we can hear the Counting
Crows CD that's playing. I listen to the  music while studying Ryan's profile.
To me he's cute as a puppy, but in a  distinctly unique way. Apparently
others don't see that in him because Ryan's  never had a boyfriend before going
to Merrimack and meeting Robby. His  interaction with guys his age or older
was mostly limited to just the dominant  perverts he'd search out for
sub/dom sex. They'd fuck him senseless or spank his  ass red, or whatever the fuck
they felt like doing to him. Actually I've never  questioned him at any
length about the details because I feel bad enough for him  as it is. Looking
at him concentrating on his driving, constantly checking the  rearview
mirrors, I feel kind of protective of him. Maybe we'll run into that  sick fuck
who treated Ryan like shit last summer. Yeah, and maybe I'll kick his  nuts up
to his Adam's apple for him and see how he likes that. There goes a  little
old lady flying past Ryan, on the right no less, looking over at us and
yelling something. Ryan gives her the finger, blushing. Oh man!


Looking at Ryan a minute  later I'm now fixated on his sparse curly beard.
Thus far it's only growing  along his jaw with some at the bottom of his
chin, and then the soft-looking  beginnings of a mustache. It looks especially
sexy on his baby face with those  little round eyeglasses and his preppy
short haircut featuring that goofy  pompadour. At times I feel like I could
just eat him up. Can't resist reaching  over now and running the back of my
finger under his chin. The whiskers are as  soft as the look. Ryan shrugs his
head away, saying, "No, Dylan! That distracts  me." I mumble, "Grumpy,"and he
says, "I'm sorry, but when I'm driving I need to  concentrate." Yeah well,
I guess there's nothing for him to be in-charge of at  the moment, except
insisting I let him concentrate on his driving. Then when I  take over the
driving Ryan gets into his full blown in-charge mode. Some might  even call it
backseat driving to which I say: kindly notice the mistletoe  attached to
the seat of my pants. The third time he tells me 'to slow the fuck  down' I'm
barely going over seventy miles an hour. I calm myself by taking a  deep
breath, then quietly say, "Ryan, do you recall saying you'd make yourself  get
used to my driving, which means me driving a reasonable amount over the
speed limit? And I might add that's the way just about every other driver on
this highway is driving." He mumbles, "Yeah, I guess I do recall saying that,
 sorry for busting your balls about your driving. I'll close my eyes and
you  drive anyway you want." That's the spirit!


We'd need to be retarded to  get lost because at exit 17 there's a sign
pointing in the direction of Motel  Six, so I drive right up to the motel and
park. "You can open your eyes now,  Ryan, we're here." He goes, "My eyes have
been open. You drive okay. If you keep  it no more that nine or ten miles
over the speed limit, I'll drive five miles  over it. Okay?" I go, "Yes,
boss, good compromise." We check in, both of us  giving our debit cards so the
lady can put half the room charge on each. Ryan  logs the amount and reason
for the receipt, then puts the receipts in  a folder that he's logically
marked, 'Expense Receipts'. As we carry our stuff  into the room, I tell him,
"You know it's a little insulting to me that we need  to prove to your mother
I paid my own way." He mumbles, "I know, but believe me  it's less trouble
to just do it her way."  That may be true, but it's still  bizarre. Plus, it
sounds a little ominous him saying, 'it's less trouble to  just do it her
way'. What's up with her? It's very puzzling and a little  disturbing that she
has such a low opinion of her son. Such a low opinion she  can't simply
take him at his word that we split the cost, or believe Ryan  when he says a
normal guy like moi is his friend. That's probably part of the  reason Ryan
occasionally says he can hardly believe I'm his boyfriend. Like he's  so
inferior I'd have nothing to do with him. Total bull shit of course.  Hell, I was
thinking how cute he is just an hour ago, and a guy's looks  carries a lot
of weight with me. And yeah, I know that's kinda shallow of  me.


It's only five-thirty now  and we ate lunch around two o'clock, so it's too
soon for dinner. Ryan says, "I  need a cigarette, Dylan. After being in the
car for over three hours I'd like to  walk around a little too." That's
what we do, although there's not much to see.  Ryan goes, "There's suppose to
be a diner not too far from here." I shrug,  mumbling, "That's what the
printout indicated, but it's a least a mile from the  motel." He goes, "Um,
whatever. Come on, we'll walk down this side road away  from the highway and
maybe we'll find the diner so we'll know where it is when  we are hungry." We
walk and smoke, as I say, "Huh, after talking about this for  so long it's
kinda hard to believe we're actually into our summer break  together. It's
kinda weird for me." He looks over at me, and I go, "I don't mean  it's weird
being here with you, I like being with you. The weird part for me is  knowing
we're heading for your house and your parents." He mumbles, "It's a  little
weird for me too." I'm like, "Whaddaya mean?" He shrugs, "Oh, I don't  know.
I don't have any friends there and it's not like a fun house at home for
me." Oh I see, a little more negatives will be revealed the closer we get to
'home'. Naturally I ask, "What do you mean, 'it's not a fun house for
you'?" He  shrugs, blushing a little, "It's not a  lot of fun because my parents
are  always so serious and I gotta be on my toes all the time behaving the
way my  parents think a son of their's should act." I'm like, "What the fuck,
you told  me it'd be fun, and your parents dote on you." He punches my arm
lightly, "It'll  be fun with you there."


Which tells me nothing  obviously, and he avoided the alleged parental
'doting', which I'm beginning to  think is bull shit. I guess Ryan has to lie to
me and himself by making-up that  his parents dote on him. That gets me
feeling sorry for Ryan all over again, and  'dote' is a funny word when you
think about it. Jeez, it sounds to me like he's  had more of a lonely, shitty
life than he's able to admit to himself. Of course  he's not the only guy I
know who's had the short end of the stick when it comes  to parents, or lack
thereof. Guys like Seth, Connor and, well Cory too. They've  all been dealt
a bad hand in the 'rents' department . At least Cory's mom, for  one, turned
herself around last year and stopped bringing home drunk boyfriends  who
smacked Cory around. Ya know, I gotta count my blessings more often. I've
been lucky to have the loving moms, and especially my brother in my life. Yeah,
 but that's the whole point of this endeavor... for me to see what it's like
not  having their support. Maybe I'll get a glimpse into what it's like
being  Ryan.


We're walking aimlessly up  this two lane back road with our own thoughts
for a couple of minutes, then I  put my arm across Ryan's shoulders and give
him a hug, "Well, ya got a friend  now, boss. You and me, bro, it's like: he
ain't heavy, he's my brother." Ryan  says, "You're joking, but it'll be
wonderful to sort of have a brother,  especially one like you. And we will be
like brothers too." Huh, that's kinda  sweet. Danny says he and I are like
brothers, and now apparently Ryan's gonna be  brother number three. From no
brothers to three brothers in less then a year... ha  ha, an embarrassment of
riches. Only one brother really counts of course. I give  Ryan's shoulders
another hug and he puts his arm around my waist hugging back  and looking up at
me. I go, "You're cuteness is getting me horny, bro." He  laughs, "Brothers
who fuck," and I think of Robby and Dodger, muttering, "It  happens."


We find the diner and go  inside for a soda. Friendly counter waitress, and
the place looks clean and all,  so we'll eat here later. After drinking our
sodas we're walking outside as I  ask, "Should we go back to the motel, or
maybe see what else is in this little  hick town?" He says, "We'll go back.
My big dick wants to be in various parts of  your body." I adjust my crotch,
"Good idea, boss." As we're retracing our steps  back down this narrow
country road, Ryan looks at me, "Um, Dylan, please don't  call me 'boss' when
we're home, okay? That would freak the rents out. They'd  think it's, um, flip
or something." I go, "Another rule, huh?" and he says,  "There's something
else I might as well tell you now, something that'll freak  you out a
little." I stop and put my hands on his shoulders leaning my  head to his, foreh
ead to forehead, saying, "I knew there'd be problematic  aspects of this
summer that you've held back from me." He grins, and as we start  walking again,
he says, "It's no big deal really. Just something goofy and  embarrassing
for me." I go, "What is it?" He blushes again, "Um, Ryan's my  middle name. My
first name is Albert and that's who I'm known as at home, at  church, and
everywhere except Merrimack College." I'm like, "Albert? You don't  look like
an Albert!" He goes, "Well I'm an 'Albert' when I'm in Marietta,  Georgia.
The rents would blow a gasket if they knew I was 'Ryan' at college. I'm
actually Albert the third. My grandfather, dad, and me." I go, "Jesus," and he
says, "Yeah, I know it's not too cool, but get used to calling me Albert,
okay?"  I mutter, "Okay, Albert, but I'm gonna miss Ryan."

We smoke another cigarette  on our way back with me saying the name
'Albert' about fifty times making Ryan  laugh. After saying it fifty times I still
can't see Ryan as an Albert. In our  small bathroom we're both taking a piss
with me gawking at his eight inch cock,  asking, "Isn't it uncomfortable
having a pecker that big? I mean, that's a lot  of meat to cram into jockey
shorts." He says, "There are a lot of guys with  bigger dicks than mine." I
mutter, "Not a lot, maybe a few," and  he shrugs,  "I don't know, I guess you
just get used to whatever size dick  you've got." I say, "Well, how about if
you let me suck that big dick of yours,  Albert." He says, "That's what I
had in mind, Dylan. And by the way, there is no  one named 'Dylan' in
Marietta." I go, "Until Friday, when there'll be one." I  get on my knees right
here in the bathroom and take his dick from his  fingers. Ryan goes, "No,
wait!" but I'd already put it in my mouth and when I  suck on the head I get
three or four drops of his urine giving me an instant  boner. Taking his cock
out, I yell, "Oh my God, that was so submissive,  swallowing your urine." Ryan
goes, "See, I didn't get to give it a shake. There  were a couple drops
left, huh?" I nod, saying, "Yeah, three or four. It tastes  like piss." He
laughs, "How odd it should taste like piss." I go, "I read  somewhere urine is
sterile, anyway it gave me an instant boner knowing I  swallowed some of your
pee." He frowns, "Really? You got a boner?" I unzip my  pants and pull my
boner out. Ryan say, "Wow, nice boner. You want me to piss in  your mouth
some time?" I go, "I'll get back to you on that, but I think I drank  some of
Robby's piss once, or was it yours? No, I'm sure it was yours." He  shrugs,
"I don't remember," as he chuckles, then says, "Anyway, you need to get
naked first. Plus, um, remember what I told you about sucking my cock?" Standing
 up, I take my sneakers off, drop my jeans, then my underwear and pull my
sweatshirt over my head. Stroking my semi-boner, I mumble, "Yeah, I
remember,  you're gonna deep throat me." He goes, "Hey, good boy, you did remember."
I  mumble, "Yeah, I'm pretty good at remembering stuff from yesterday. Do I
need to  take my socks off?" Ryan says, "Yeah, everything off, every time.
That's part of  the way I can make you feel submissive to me. You know,
you're naked when I'm  not." He's right about that, except I like being naked.
Ryan rubs my head,  smirking and mumbling, "Love this haircut on you," then
he grabs my nuts and  sort of reads my mind, "I know you love being naked
with me admiring your hot  body. Don't pretend you don't, Dylan." I go, "Who's
pretending? Yeah, I like  it."


Ryan nods his head, asking,  "Do you like this too?" and he squeezes my
balls, but not too hard. I grunt,  "Umm," and while still holding my nuts, his
other fist goes around my dick. He  pulls on it, saying, "Come into the
bedroom," and as he often does, he uses my  dick as a leash with me taking fast
little steps keeping up with him. In the  bedroom  Ryan stokes my boner a
few times, murmuring, "Hey, I think  I'll milk your nuts. I haven't done that
in a long time" Oooh, that's a  very dominant thing to do to a submissive
sex partner like me, and  right away that familiar sensation of submissiveness
slides over my brain.  Not a super submissiveness, but the delicious kind
that's warm, nice, and  dreamy. Ryan stands behind me with his cock hanging
down outside the zipper of  his pants pressed between my butt cheeks. That's
very sexy and hot right there.  It's the little dominant things he does that
make Ryan a special dom as far as  I'm concerned. Hell, he's got the
sub/dom sex thing down almost to perfection by  now anyway. Over the past two
years he's tried all levels of dominance during  our sex together, and this
current level is the one I like best. It's sort of a  sweetly dominant manner
normally, with a spanking thrown in once in awhile to  keep me guessing. I
take a deep breath laying my head back on his shoulder as he  reaches from
behind me to put his fist around my boner again. He has smallish  hands but that
matters not at all when he begins steadily doing tight six-inch  strokes on
my hardening cock. I haven't jerked off myself since I don't know  when,
and a guy jerking me off is a much, much different sensation anyway... much,
much sexier is what I meant.  I lean back against his body inhaling his  scent
and feeling the stoke, stroke, stroke on my cock as his fist pulls my
uncut foreskin up and back on my boner.


Oooh, it feels so good! I  want to feel more of Ryan so I reach back with
both arms, a hand on each of his  firm butt cheeks for a squeeze. Tight
buttocks muscles on this boy, an ass  that'd be great to fuck. Oooh, he continues
his stroke, stroke, stroking on my  boner and I'm soon, moaning, "Ummm,
feels good, Ryan." He whispers in my ear,  "I'm Albert," and I go up on my toes
as his stroking gets tighter and faster,  "Aaah, aah, ooh yeah, Albert,
mmmm." Two minutes of increasingly hot sexy  sensations flashing off my hard
penis and now an orgasm's coming on me like a  freight train as I lean back
tight against Ryan, squirming against him and  gasping, "Ooh ooh, ooh, ooh,"
each moan getting louder until my back arches,  "Aaaaah," as cum shoots from
my cock in a nice rainbow arc spattering on the  carpet, then another streak
of cum with me up on my toes humping my hips as Ryan  keeps stroking,
"Mmmm, aah, oh Ryan..." and another squirt shoots out. He strokes  for another
fifteen seconds or so, but my nuts are empty now. Ooh, man, I slump  against
him breathing fast little breaths that some might call 'panting'. My  feet
flat on the floor again, I'm savoring the sizzling from my climax that's
tantalizingly sliding around my groin and then there goes my shoulders doing
another little shudder on their own. "Mmmm," that was random, but kinda hot
too.  Ryan takes his fists away and rubs his hand on my almost hairless head,
saying,  "I just wiped spunk that drooled on my hand in your hair." I don't
care because  I feel so good after that orgasm. My hand goes to my head but I
don't feel any  wetness there. He chuckles, "Just kidding, Dylan, I'd never
do that to you." I  turn around and hug him as he asks, "How'd it feel
getting your nuts milked?" I  go, "Awesome, and now I need a hug, Ryan." We hug
each other tightly with Ryan  murmuring, "Jeez, I love you so much, Dylan."
He kisses my lips, saying, "Come  on, lets lay down together." I yell, "Not
on the bedspread!" as my foot slips a  little in my cum on the carpet. He
laughs, "You germ-aphobe," as he pulls back  the bedspread so we can lay on
clean sheets... hopefully they're clean  anyway.


We cuddle a bit, then I say,  "Please take your clothes off Ryan so I can
feel your hot naked body." He says,  "You undress me," and that's what I do
with some help from Albert. Now were  laying naked together clinging to each
other as I murmur, "I've obviously got  some serious hots for you, Ryan.
Oops, I mean, Albert." He rubs his hand on my  chest, then fiddles with my nip
ring, saying, "That makes me feel really good,  baby. You know I've
obviously got the hots for you too, I love you. Do you love  me?" Rubbing my nose
against his, I say, "Yes, I love you, but I'm in love with  Robby first, and
that's not going to change." He mumbles, "Well, we'll just see  about that
this summer, won't we?" Ignoring that prickly topic, I ask, "Can I at  least
call you, Al?" He shakes his head, "Nope, it's gotta be Albert or the  folks
will be very agitated," and his lips are on mine again beginning a hot
make-out that produces another boner on me and a larger one on Ryan. His hand's
behind my head, pulling it down, and that can mean only one thing. I move
down  the bed to take his boner in my mouth. I'm sucking and licking it, then
 swallowing his precum. Ryan's on his side feeding me his boner until the
hard  head is right on the gag reflex area of my throat, just like yesterday.
I'm  gagging while trying to relax my throat muscles, and snorting out my
nose.  Ryan's aroused and breathing noisily with desire as he humps his hips
pushing  the head of his cock past the gag area and into my throat. With
both hands  holding my head steady he's thrusting his hips pushing his boned-up
cock down my  throat. When my nose is tightly against his groin, in amongst
his pubic hair, he  gasps, then begins thrusting his hips fucking my
throat. It's very awkward and  extremely uncomfortable for me, but incredibly
dominant of Ryan. My face is hot  as I'm gagging and trying unsuccessfully to
snort air in through my  nose.


Soon I'm holding up my hand  indicating I need to breath as I try to pull
my head away, but he holds it  steady continuing to moan while humping his
boner back and forth in my throat.  Ryan finally withdraws his cock and I'm
taking deep inhales through my nose and  mouth still gagging and trying to
hawk up some precum that got in my windpipe.  Feeling a little better, I pick
up his dick again and suck on his cock, fisting  the long shaft at the same
time while swallowing more precum. Long tight strokes  on the shaft have Ryan
grunting and squirming on his side while still holding my  head between his
hands. More sucking until I feel the head of his boner swell in  my mouth,
then Ryan goes, "Ooooh," sounding like he's strangling, his body gets  stiff
as he humps forward with cum gushing into my mouth. I gulp it down still
sucking on the hard head until another hip thrust pushes his cock back in my
throat and with a breathy, "Aaaah," cum pumps out of Ryan's hard boner and
creamily slides down my throat. I'm concentrating on not inhaling any of it
into  my sinuses as Ryan's body relaxes, his cock pulls back to my tongue,
he does a  long sigh with just drools of cum all that's left for me to suck
out and  swallow. When he lays on his back moaning, his cock flops out from
my mouth  smearing a little cum and saliva across my cheek. I'm smacking my
lips and  moving my tongue over my taste buds, but can't detect a particular
flavor to his  cum.


Taking a deep breath Ryan  strokes his cock a few times, then he casually
puts an arm over my side pulling  me against him, murmuring, "That was
spectacular, babe. It didn't hurt you or  anything, did it?" I run my fingers
through the hair on the back of his head,  murmuring, "I thought the deep
throating part was very uncomfortable, but at the  same time it gave me the
hardest boner I think I've ever had." He nods his head,  "That's because when I'm
fucking your mouth and throat you're pretty much  as dominated as it gets. A
throat fucking with a big cock like mine gets  submissive guys like you off
really good. If I hadn't milked your nuts first  you'd be creaming all over
the bed." My throat feels stretched, but I'm  committed to being deep
throated by Ryan/Albert whenever he wants because, oh my  God did I ever have a
hard cock being dominated like that. Wow! Five minutes  later I'm still
feeling extremely submissive to him, so much so I need to stroke  myself. I
cuddle tighter with Ryan, who pushes my hand away from my cock,  saying, "Like I
was saying earlier today, I'll take care of all your submissive  needs while
having an awesome time doing it for you." Thinking about that a  second, my
submissive trance begins slipping away, "Um, Albert, I don't want to  break
rule three, but I'll just say that the sexy fun I get from being
submissive is nothing like the submissiveness you used to exhibit to those  dominant
perverts in your past. You're projecting your experience onto me and it
doesn't compute. But I'm not arguing." He shrugs, "I know, I know I was worse
than you ever were, but I'm totally over that shit now, and what's the harm
in  letting me think I'm protecting you from making the mistakes I made?" I
go, "No  harm, thank you, Albert." He laughs, "I like it better when you
call me, Ryan,  but we gotta get into the Marietta frame of mind if we want
things to go  smoothly."


We take separate tub shower,  the kind with a shower curtain instead of a
shower stall. Ryan first, then with  Ryan giving my bare ass a hard slap, he
goes, "Get in there, boy." Oh fuck, I'll  get another hard-on if he treats
me like his 'boy'. Showered and dressed we go  out to the car with Ryan
telling me, "You drive, Dylan." We get in the Mini  Cooper and he says, "Just an
FYI, Dylan, I'm gonna fuck you properly tonight,  but that was fun sexy
messing around, wasn't it?" I've got a big grin on my  face, "Yeah, absolutely,
Ryan. You're an awesome sex buddy," he goes, "We're  lovers, not sex
buddies, and it's Albert, not Ryan." I say, "Yes sir, I stand  corrected," and Ryan
goes, "I like the sound of you standing corrected for  once." I drive away
thinking I need to temper his 'lovers' designation a little,  but without
hurting his sensitive feelings of course. In a weak moment during  sex in the
past month or two I told him I loved him, and I do in a way, but not  the
way he wants.


I drive us to the diner  without once exceeding the speed limit of
twenty-five miles an hour. That's  because it's a narrow back road without street
lights on a dark night and I  can't see shit except what's right in front of
us. We make it okay and inside  the half full diner, I ask, "Should we sit at
the counter or in one of the  booths?" Ryan shrugs, then nods at an empty
booth and we sit down as a waitress  comes over with menus, asking, "Water?"
I go, "Yes, please." When the waitress  leaves Ryan's shaking his head at
the menu. It consist of ten plastic-coated  pages of small print. There are
like five hundred items on the menu from  breakfast to late night snacks, not
counting a page exclusively for beverages.  Jesus, about a hundred fifty
selections for dinner alone. I ask, "Why do you  think diners have these
expansive menus?" He shrugs, "I don't know, but there's  no way they have fresh
ingredients for all these choices, some of which I've  never heard of. I'm
sticking to a basic food group, also known as a cheeseburger  with fries and a
Coke." When the waitress returns with glasses of water, we both  order the
burgers and fries. Waiting for our dinners we're naturally checking  our cell
phones. I return text messages to Robby, Chubby, Connor, my mom, Dawg  and
Manny, the last two ex-posse boys asking about haircuts. Damn, I'm gonna
miss out on all those posse boys' haircuts this summer. Then my last text is
from Seth, who thanks me for letting him have my spot on Robby's crew. What
a  sweet guy! The waitress brings our dinners as I text Seth that I'm happy
it  worked out for him, and I can't wait to see him in August.


Ryan's staring at me as I  eat a French fry, so I ask, "What?" and he goes,
"You've been texting away for  ten minutes and I only sent a text to my dad
telling him our progress, and then  a shout out to Freddie." Eating another
fry, I go, "So?" and he says, "You take  it for granted you have so many
friends. I'm jealous I guess, that all." Gee,  why's he putting himself down
again. I go, "Whaddaya talking about? You have  friends. How about Felix?" He
goes, "Oh yeah, I should text him," and I'm like,  "Yeah ya should. Guys
won't text you if you never text them, plus there's Rob,  Danny, my brother
Jeff. They all like you, but I'll bet you've never texted any  of them." He
puffs his cheeks out exhaling, then says, "You know, you're right.  I kinda
feel like they only like me because of you. And anyway I don't know what  to
text them about." He's making me feel bad for him again, and I don't know
what to tell him to make him feel better. Making matters worse my cellphone
dings twice indicating two more text messages. Probably smart-ass replies to
my  texts. Ignoring the texts, I say, "Well, you've got me, Albert, and I'm
not  chopped liver so lets look at the glass as half full, or however that
saying  goes." He shrugs, mumbling, "Yeah, good advice from my big brother."
I go,  "Ah, yes, that's what I'm here for, looking out for my little
brother,  Albert." And he almost spits out his mouthful of cheeseburger laughing.
Then he  says, "I'm getting my parents to adopt you because I've always
wanted a brother  like you." I'm thinking, 'No thank you very much' and then,
damn, it occurs to  me that Ryan's going to have a hard time being in-charge if
I need to pump him  up every time he gets depressed or down on himself.


We finish our dinner talking  about a mutual interest: gay sex. He knows
about my first time having sex, but  only in a sketchy way so I fill him in on
some of the gruesome details, which  are anything but flattering to me. I
tell Ryan the whole story of how fat Carl  got me hooked on gay sex initially
by forcing me to suck his cock and then he  turned me over and fucked my
ass hard. He did whatever he wanted for five or six  weeks until he sort of
lost interest in me, but then I 'needed' it and had to  nag him to fuck me. He
was the only gay guy I knew at the time, and even though  he's totally
unattractive I was fascinated by him and couldn't get him to fuck  me enough.
The times he wouldn't answer his cellphone I'd walk to his house,  which was a
forty minute walk, and I wasn't even sure he was home. Like a  pathetic
dweeb I'd knock on his door groveling for it. Fat Carl had lit my  gay sexual
fuse and in the heat I needed to get fucked... needed it! So I'd walk  to his
house planning on what I'd say while  humbly asking if I could come  in.
Sometimes he'd tell me to get lost and slam the door in my face, and other
times he'd get hold of my ear and drag me up to his bedroom, tell me to strip,
spank my ass until my eyes were blurring with tears then fuck me two or
three  times so hard the forty minute walk back home was a bowlegged walk with
my  smacked ass burning and his cum running down the back of my legs. Ryan's
soaking  up every word of course, his eyes big behind those little round
eyeglasses. My  reason for telling him these humiliating early days for me is
to show him he's  not the only one who's had bad experiences. And yeah, I
embellished my  description making it even worst than it was.


"So now you know, Ryan.  That's my pathetic introduction to gay sex, a time
I'm not proud of obviously."  He's speechless at first as I'm draining my
glass of Coke and sucking on the  straw making that annoying sound when the
straw's only sucking up a tiny bit of  ice melt. He's been leaning forward to
hear every word while smelling the back  of his wrist the whole time, his
eyes staring into mine. I suck on the straw  again making that sound like
fingernails on a blackboard, as he asks, "How'd you  feel walking home
bowlegged after begging that fat slob to fuck you, and then  him fucking you raw?" I
go, "Whaddaya think? I'd hate on myself all the way  home, promising myself
I'd never do it again." Then I do some more sucking on  the straw making
Ryan frown at me. Heh heh, I don't blame him for frowning, I  hate when
someone else does that straw thing I'm doing. Pulling my empty glass away from me,
still  leaning forward, he whispers, "But you did do go back again, didn't
you? You  went back to fat Carl's a couple days later begging him to do it
all over again,  right?" He's relating to all the times he went back for more
 mistreatment from some dominant sadist. I tell him, "Yes, a couple of
times, but  I was determined to get control of myself so I lasted longer and
longer before  I'd give in to my 'need'." Back to smelling the back of his
wrist again, Ryan  asks, "What happened then?" I shrug, "Then I met Willie
Worthington and he  helped me get over fat Carl. I knew what I was doing was
destructive and just plain wrong, so I did something about it. That's the
point,  knowing when it's gotten out of control and time to quit." Ryan nods his
head, "Uh huh, That's the part I didn't 'get' until you helped me with
fuckwad."


We think about that for a  minute as Ryan unconsciously sucks on my straw
making the same annoying sound I  made, so I pull my glass away from him,
saying, "That wasn't the end of it  though. More like the beginning of the end.
There were four or five times over  the next couple of months when both
Willie, who knew fat Carl and his  cousin, and me would tentatively accept an
invitation to one of the older guys'  cookouts or sex parties. It would start
out okay with some drinking, but  then fat Carl and his cousin would take
us to Carl's bedroom and make Willie and  me get naked. They'd fondle our
privates a little and then Willie and I would  get on our knees to suck the
cocks of the two older guys. They'd swat our heads  as we sucked their big
cocks. Then when they had enough of that, Willie and me  still on our knees,
would lay our chests on Carl's bed with our asses up so Carl  and his cousin
could take turns fucking us. They'd switch back and forth, Carl  fucking
Willie and then he'd pull out of Willie's ass and shove his sloppy boner  up my
ass fucking me, and then they'd switch back. No condoms either and when  his
cousin and Carl had blown a couple of loads up our asses they'd spank the
shit out us and tell us to scram. We'd have tears running down our faces and
cum  running down the back of our legs as we quickly got dressed and
scurried away  with our roughly fucked, smacked asses dragging behind us. All the
older guys at  the cookout or party knew what had happened and they'd all be
mocking us as we  ran by them as they calling us faggots and laughed at us."
Ryan goes, "You and  your friend kinda got off easy. Didn't any of the
other older guys want to take  a turn fucking you and the other kid?" Shaking my
head, "Nah, just fat Carl and  his cousin. Willie and I were under age so
the other older gay guys didn't want  to get involved."


Letting that sink in, Ryan's  smelling the back of his wrist again with me
trying not to laugh at him  picking-up Dougie's habit from me, and then it
becomes like an unconscious  thing. It's not easy to stop once you get in the
habit... heh heh. Ryan's like,  "What happened then, Dylan?" I shrug, "We
felt like shit afterwards and wouldn't  go near those two for months, but
eventually Willie would talk me into one more  party and Willie saying it'll be
different this time. So we went back for more,  one or two times but it
wasn't different. Finally we'd had all we could take and  that was it." He asks,
"What'd you guys do?" I shrug, "The last time we went it  was like Willie
and I looked at each other and said fuck this. We told fat Carl  and his
cousin to go fuck themselves or each other. We refused to do what they  wanted
and just drank their beer giving them the finger." Ryan's like  astonished,
"And that was it?" I go, "Not exactly. Willie and I got in a  fist fight with
them, calling them perverted queers, and childish shit like  that. We were
kicking and throwing our fists, plus throwing anything we could  get our
hands on. In the end it wasn't close, we won the last battle so ta  speak." Ryan
goes, "Holy shit! Well you won the last fight, but I guess you know  that
fat fuck Carl turned you onto the submissive side of sex from early on. He
dominated you so badly you've basically never gotten over it." I go, "Well,
thanks for highlighting that for me, buddy!" He shakes his head, "I didn't
mean  to be a prick about it, but he is the reason you're now primarily a
submissive  bottom. I thought you already knew that." I'm like, "I don't know,
Ryan, it  was a crazy time for me because I was only seventeen. Hell, I
didn't even know I  was gay until the first night fat Carl forced himself on me.
 The reality  that I was gay made me a little nuts. I knew immediately he
was right about me  being homosexual and it blew my mind I'd suppressed that
from myself for so  long. It was like I'd missed out on some good years of
sex too." He asks, "And  you've been catching up ever since, huh?" I shrug,
"I just don't know about  that, but I tell myself that occasionally. Maybe
that's it. Or, it could be I'm  just a tad oversexed through no fault of my
own because I was born this way."  Rationalization is helpful at times.


A busboy asks, "You two  finished?" Wondering how long he's been at our
table, I look up into one of the  cutest tough-guy faces I've ever seen.
Stammering, "Um, what, ah, that is, yeah  we're finished." Ryan's wetting his
lips, the tip of his pink tongue sliding  across them, his eyes just about
popping out of his head at this incredibly cute  kid   about sixteen or seventeen
years old. He leans over the table  collecting the dirty dishes leaving a
faint odor of BO behind, but it's  sexy smelling boyish BO. Everything about
him is just about perfect. Big shiny  emerald green bedroom eyes, light
brown hair in a recent tight buzz cut, a  too-cute nose and sexy lips I'd love
to feel on mine. There's a pale peach fuzz  mustache on his upper lip and a
flat dark beauty mark on his pinkish-white  creamy cheek. His name tag reads,
'Randy', which is how Ryan and I are feeling  from staring at him.
Balancing dishes on top of each other he walks away  muttering, "Fags," under his
breath, but just loud enough so we could hear him.  I guess he heard some of
what Ryan and I were saying. We watch him disappear  into the kitchen, then I
look at Ryan, "He said fag, right? Do you suppose he's  British and he's
going to have a cigarette?" Ryan chuckles, "No, I believe he  mean 'fags',
like in American slang." I go, "Huh, well he's too young for us  anyway." We
get pie and coffee, then split the bill with Ryan putting the  receipts in his
folder.


On the way to the car parked  behind the diner we see Randy and an older
guy leaning against the back kitchen  door smoking. They don't notice us,
which is a probably a good thing because  another 'fag' comment from Tinker Bell
and fist would be flying along with  anything else I could get my hands on.
Ryan drives us the mile or so back to the  Motel Six, and as we're going
into our room, he murmurs, "Thinking about your  fat Carl story has me horny,
Dylan. I'm going to fuck you all over this room."  The door closes behind us
as I say, "Show me no mercy, Albert."


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



========================================================



Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine  published
and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them  for
next to nothing. The books are under ten dollars. They are about a 19 year  old
gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is  a
new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by
typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can  be
found in some detail there. Thank you.


Donny  Mumford



============================================

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