Date: Fri, 11 Sep 2015 11:25:46 -0400 From: MGTBILL@aol.com Subject: DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION Chapter 13 DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION Chapter 13 by Donny Mumford It's Wednesday night a little after nine o'clock. Ryan's driving the Mini while I'm thinking about earlier tonight. It was very odd how Ryan's personality downshifted noticeably the minute we walked into the church basement. We got there a little before seven o'clock joining about twenty-five other college-age guys, most of them milling around talking and laughing in little groups of two or three. Weirdly, Ryan was invisible to them. It's inconceivable that all last summer he never developed any kind of rapport with any of these guys. I followed him to the back wall where he leaned against it looking at the floor. This must be what he did every Wednesday night all last summer. Man, that's just sad! Well, tonight is not like any Wednesday night last summer. Bradford came over to say 'Hi' to me and introduce himself to shell shocked Ryan, then introduced his sex-buddy, Tim Dulson, which rendered Ryan completely speechless. He's still speechless as he drives, perhaps trying to wrap his head around these new developments. I was hoping to discover why Ryan's been antisocial here in Marietta and maybe help him activate his nonexistent social life, or at least get it off the ground. I think I've done that although it's still on life support, but at least now there's a blip or two on his social-life's support monitor. I finally ask, "What's on your mind, Albert? Why so quiet?" He mumbles, "I'm trying to figure out how the hell you were able to make friends with that Blake kid so fast? It's like you've known each other for years." I say, "No! We recognized some common ground between us, that's all. We're still very much in the feeling-out stages of a possible friendship." He's shaking his head slowly like it's unfathomable, so I add, "I told you Sunday I'd bumped into him during the so-called social hour after church. Remember we discussed it during Sunday's dinner and your mother said she know's Brad's mother?" He glances at me, "Yeah, but when he introduced himself to me I almost shit my pants." I roll my eyes, mumbling, "You weren't especially mister personality, that's true enough." He goes, "It was unexpected and caught me off guard, that's all," then he asks, "Anyway, how'd he happen to introduce himself to you, I mean why you? There had to be a reason." I go, "Yeah, there was. Frankly, I was gawking at him in church and that got his attention." Ryan's like "Why were you gawking at him?" I snort, "Why else? He's sexy looking of course, plus I was intrigued that he seemed so sincere about worship. It fascinated me a guy my age would be so devout during the entire church service. Probably because I'm not religious." Ryan says, "I hope you find Jesus in your life before you go home, Daniel. He's a comfort during difficult times, believe me." I mumble, "I'm sure he is, Albert." I could pretend being religious, but you can't really fake it and it would be disrespectful to true believers. Actually I don't know what I believe in, but I'm open-minded about all of it and definitely not judgmental. I wouldn't even think of making light of anyone's religious beliefs. I ask, "Where we going, Ryan? You've been driving for twenty minutes." He shrugs, and I'm like, "What the fuck? Everything in Marietta is within twenty minutes of everything else, so wherever you're going we should be there by now." He goes, "Everything is not within twenty minutes, don't be stupid!" I snap at him, "That doesn't answer my fucking question. Where are we going?" He yells, "I don't know, alright?! I'm trying to clear my head." Oh fuck, I guess I should be more understanding. This is new to Ryan, so I pat his shoulder, "Okay, calm down," and he says, "I've been to Bible study over twenty times between last summer and when I'm home from college,. That's over forty hours with those guys and all those hours I was treated as an outcast. Then, because of you, totally out of the blue I'm introduced to two gay guys and get invited to party with them. And not only do I meet Brad, but his hot boyfriend, Timmy, who I happen to have a crush on. It's all kind of intimidating to me." Huh, also kinda dorky of you, but I leave that unsaid. He drives below the speed limit for a few more silent minutes, then Ryan's like, "I can't believe I finally met Timmy Dulson! Jesus, I've had a 'thing' for him ever since I moved here, and then I meet him tonight just like that." I'm staring at him, finding all of this hard to believe. Not to beat a dead horse, but a person would have to work hard at not connecting with at least one of the twenty-some guys he meets with for two hours every week. By accident you'd think he'd connect with one of them at least. Ryan whines, "You've been at the church two times and guys know and like you already. What am I doing wrong?" I say, "I'm guessing it more a matter of what you're not doing. I don't know, but maybe before you ever gave them a chance you assumed these guys would consider you a, um, loser like the guys in prep school, so you never reached out or talked to anyone. Staying by yourself sent a message to the guys." He drives, stewing about that I suppose until he finally asks, "Okay, what message did I send them?" I shrug, "They probably thought you're the stuck-up one. Or maybe they assumed you felt you were too good for the likes of them, and it's you who didn't want anything to do with them. Ya know what I'm saying?" He nods, Uh huh, I think I do." I ask, "Didn't anyone talk you when you first went to Bible study right after moving here?" He shrugs, "Well yeah, a number of guys did, but from past experiences I assumed they were just making fun of the new guy. Plus I think they knew about him." I ask, "Him who?" He shrugs, "You know, the dominant asshole I hooked-up with last summer. I thought the guys knew and then one lonely Wednesday night became two and then three and the pattern was set for the whole summer." I'm shaking my head, "That's piss poor judgment on your part, Albert. I'm sorry, but your paranoia fucked you over. You fucked-up yourself basically and it's fucking unbelievable!" He yells, "Shut up! You don't know what it's like! And I don't want to talk about this anymore because you're just trying to hurt my feelings." I don't blame him for being sensitive, but it's totally his fault he doesn't have any friends, not the fault of the guys at Bible study. More awkward silence with me feeling sorry for him again. And he's right that I don't know what it's like to be him. I've never been bullied or treated like an outcast, which describes his entire prep school experience. It's not fair of me to be too critical because I simply don't know how horrible that must feel. Yeah, but he should be relieved now to finally meet some guys instead of moping about the fact he's had no friends in the past. He's frowning as he keeps driving aimlessly around town. This is getting tiresome, so I'm like, "Hey, Albert, you're driving in fuckin' circles, there's our Baptist church!" He's flustered, "Um, I thought... oh, I wasn't paying attention. I'm trying to picture myself at the party Saturday night. How should I act, and what should I say?" Oh jeez, really? I'm like, "Act normal of course, and definitely don't try too hard, don't push it. Be yourself." He asks, "Yeah, but's what's 'myself'? How do I act when I'm myself?" Well that's pretty fuckin' pathetic right there, but trying to keep it light, I go, "For starters, the way you're behaving right now? Don't act like that! Act the way you do at Merrimack. Ya know, a cool casual, 'Hey, wassup?' Talk about something you have in common or ask how the person know's Brad, or compliment the guy about some minor thing if possible. Let the other person talk too because most people like to talk about themselves. Act like you're interested in what's going on, unless the guy's an asshole of course, then drift away without burning any bridges." He takes a big breath, then grins, "Oh fuck, the thought of doing that makes me think I'm gonna pee my pants," and we laugh because that's what Sammy always says at work. At least Ryan's lightening up a little. He finally parks at a Domino Pizza shop and we go into a noisy crowded restaurant. After waiting in-line a few minutes we place our order, then we get big cups of soda and look for an empty table. As we're walking through the restaurant I recognized three or four guys who were at Bible study and I nod at them with a little grin, but keep moving until we find an empty table near the back. I know why it's empty as soon as I sit down. It's a table with one leg shorter than the others and it rocks unsteadily if you lean on it, or take your arm away. Very fucking annoying! There's a napkin container on the table so I grab some napkins and look under the table to find the short leg. Three legs have rubber stoppers at the end, one doesn't. I stick napkins under the stopper-less leg matching the height of the others and the table is pretty steady. Sitting back in my chair, Ryan asks, "Is there anything you can't do?" I go, "Yeah a few things, but I'm a genius at putting napkins under the short leg of a table." He's feeling better after our little talk. He grins as we suck on our sodas' straws, then he asks, "How the fuck did Brad know the two of us were gay?" I go, "He and I told each other we were gay last Sunday, although he's apparently deep in the closet. I didn't mention you being gay, but he guessed that part. Actually he told both of us why he assumed that earlier tonight." Ryan thinks for a second, "Yeah, that's right. He said you only know me in Marietta, so he figured I'm the mystery gay boyfriend." I snort, "Brilliant deduction on Brad's part, huh?" Ryan goes, "Hey, how 'bout that Timmy? Is he hot or what? Oh man, and him saying we're the only four gay guys in Marietta. Whaddaya think about that?" I'm like, "Yeah, we're four gays that they know about, but there are probably just as many gays here, percentage-wise, as any place else." Someone taps Ryan on the shoulder, asking, "Mind if I sit down for a minute?" Ryan freezes looking at me and I go, "Have a seat. What's up?" He sits, saying, "Hi, thanks. Um, I'm Theo Sawyer and I saw you guys at Bible study talking to Brad Blake." I go, "Oh..." and then we introduce ourselves bumping fists, "Nice to meet ya." He looks at Ryan and then me, saying, "Well, it's like this: some of us guys who graduated last year from Marietta High were on the baseball team and we're trying to get together a team to represent our town in the county's summer league. So, I wonder if either of you guys play ball?" I nod my head at Ryan, saying, "Albert was a starter for his prep school team three straight years. I just played sandlot ball." Theo smiles, "You any good?" I shrug, "Above average," and he asks Ryan, "What position did you play, Al?" Ryan's like, "Mostly centerfield, and a little third base." Theo smiles, "So ya got a shotgun for an arm, huh?" Ryan chuckles, "I got a pretty good arm, yeah." Theo says, "Would you be interested in trying out for our team?" Ryan nods his head at me, asking, "What about him?" Theo goes, "Sure, Danny can try out too, but we're getting some pretty good talent. We'll need bench players too of course." Well, of all the fucking nerve! I ask, "Is Brad a ball player?" He chuckles, "No, Blake's not a jock. Um, you guys do live in town, right?" Ryan nods his head. Theo goes on to tell us they have a team manager. One of the guy's father was a professional baseball player making it to triple A ball for the Yankees back in the nineties. He'll be the team's manager. They have a sponsor for the team so it won't cost the players anything for uniforms or umpiring fees. Ryan tells him we work so if the games are during week days we can't do it. Theo assures us it's weekends and night games, then asks where we work and we talk a little about that. He gives us each a flyer, saying, "This lists all the details. Saturday's try-outs are at one o'clock on the main diamond at Marietta High." Ryan and I both take a flier as Theo says to Ryan, "Please come, we really need a center fielder, dude. No bull shit, we do." He stands, "Nice meeting you guys," and we're like, "Same here," then Theo stops, looks at Ryan, and says, "Albert, I gotta say you're explanation at Bible studies tonight was good. I was like shocked you spoke up actually. Dude, you should open up more and share your thoughts. I liked what you said about 3:10-13. It was exactly how I interpreted it... ha ha, that's mostly what I liked about it." Ryan and him bump fists again, and Theo's like, "Anyway, I'll look for you Saturday, and see you next Wednesday at Bible study too I guess. You come along too if you want, Danny." When Theo's disappears somewhere at the front of the restaurant, I look at Ryan who's shaking his head again in amazement, "I can't believe this shit, Danny. He saw me talking with Brad so he figures I'm okay and asks if I play ball. It's like surreal." I go, "He also liked your 3:10-13, um, thingamajig." Our number gets called and Ryan says, "Go pick-up our pizza," and I give him a look. He grins and chuckles, regaining some of his confidence, "I'm still the boss, so get your ass in gear, boy." That makes me laugh, then it's a long way back to the front of this noisy restaurant. I'm smiling to myself thinking how Ryan's calling me Danny just like everyone else I've met here. If he keeps that up he's more likely to slip-up at home and call me 'Danny' than 'Dylan'...heh heh. Yeah, but that name hang-up of his mother's still strikes me as extremely odd. There's gotta be a story behind that. I pass by Theo at a table with three other guys. He shoots me with his index finger and I grin at him and keep going. He's not cute, but he's what I consider nice looking in a generic way. Then the long walk back with the piping hot pizza that's smelling good and making my mouth water. That's understandable considering it's been like nine hours since we've had anything to eat. As soon as I put the pizza down Ryan picks up a slice and bites off the point, then drinks some soda, muttering, "Burned my fucking tongue." That's what I used to do before I started all this maturing. I ask, "Hey, did your mother ever tally-up our trip expenses from that log I kept?" He shakes his head, "Nah. I guess after she was charmed by you she didn't care about the expenses." I'm like, 'Really?" He laughs, "No, I don't really know. Never heard anything about it. She probably didn't though." Pretty decent pizza, but then pizza always taste better eaten right from the super hot oven when the crust is crisp. We eat every bit of the pizza, then outside we lean up against the side of the restaurant smoking a cigarette. Ryan says, "You know what? I'm feeling good about this town for the first time since moving here. It only took you five days to straighten everything out for me." I'm like, "Brad deserves the credit. He approached me." Ryan chuckles, "He probably wanted to fuck you." I mutter, "Get real," and then one of the guys I saw sitting with Theo comes over. Big strong kid, who says to Ryan, "Hi, um," and he points with his thumb at the restaurant, "Theo Sawyer says you're a boss at Lockheed, right?" Ryan goes, "Uh huh, sort of a boss." He says, "Yeah, well I saw you there when I was applying for a job. You were talking to Mr. Day." Ryan says, "He's my boss, Josh Day. Did you get the job?" The guys shakes his head, "Nah, I'm on a waiting list, but if anything opens-up keep me in mind, okay? I'm trying out for the baseball team too, so ya know, we're homies, dude. Ya gotta hook me up with something at Lockheed. Us Marietta boys gotta stick together, right?" He hands Ryan a napkin with his name, address, and cellphone number written on it, then holds out his hand, saying, "I'm Bill Stark, by the way, and I'd really appreciate anything you can do about getting me a job." Ryan shakes the guys hand telling him his name. Bill says, "Seriously, Al, I'm desperate for work and summer jobs are scarce in Marietta as you probably know." Then Bill glances at me mumbling, "Hey, wassup?" pats Ryan's shoulder and walks away. Bill's obviously straight since he barely acknowledged me, not that I care. When Bill leaves Ryan's expression is about what it would be if a Martian just landed in front of him. He's like amazed as he slowly says, "This is so un-fucking-believable, Daniel! I'm an outcast for a year, then in one fucking night I get invited to party by a popular guy, I'm sought after because the local baseball team needs a center fielder, and that big kid, Bill, just sucked-up to me begging me to put a word in for him at Lockheed. Ha ha, as if anybody at Lockheed gives a shit about me putting in a word for anybody." I go, "I've been trying to tell you Albert, you da man, dude!" He blushes, then says, "This day, um, definitely is one of my best days ever," and he chokes-up a little with watery eyes. It has been a good day for him, but most guys wouldn't get emotional about it. More likely they'd be joking around, bragging on themselves for the fun of it. His friends would be dumping on him in a good-guy ball-busting way, like: 'You, playing centerfield? Oh fuck, is that guy in for a disappointment!' Stuff like that, guy stuff. That's not what I do though because Ryan's sincerely overwhelmed and happy. I hug his shoulders, saying, "Come on, lets get home, buddy. We need a beer or something to celebrate your new status in town." He says, "Yeah, we'll find something to celebrate with, fer sure." He's quiet while driving us home, letting it all sink in I suppose. Then I say, "You know what? I'll bet we don't see Aaron at work again." Ryan's like, "What, Aaron? Oh, that Aaron, why won't he be at work?" Heh heh, I guess that was a bit of a sharp change of subject. I tell him, "I've got this funny feeling the senior member of your crew thinks this job is beneath him. If I'm right, there will be an opening. You can be proactive and mention this guy Bill Stark to Josh Day. Bill's already filled out an application and he's hungry for work. If you get him the job that'll impress everyone." Ryan goes, "Yeah, but why do you say Aaron won't be back?" I shrug, "Like I said, it's just a feeling. Maybe he realizes he's not fitting in, and Sammy is working Aaron under the table. Aaron can't keep up with him and he's probably self conscious about that. Lets see if he shows up for work tomorrow." Ryan's face is kind of glowing, making me smile to myself. He's feeling good about himself and it's probably a new feeling he's trying to get used to. I mean he's felt good before obviously, but never because his peers are finally inviting him to join the club, so to speak. I'm happy for him and reach over rubbing his hair. He grabs my hand and squeezes it, then drives one-handed holding my hand the rest of the way home. Ryan's father was supposed to be home from New York City tonight but because of airplane delays on Monday he needs to stay over another night. So we know he won't be at the house, and when Ryan parks the Mini we see his mother's car isn't in the garage either, so the coast is clear. Inside Ryan goes to the liquor cabinet, saying, "The 'rents don't drink beer, so we'll celebrate my stardom with hard liquor." I laugh when he said 'stardom' and he laughs too. A little self deprecating humor from Albert. He reaches way back in the cabinet coming out with a bottle of Remy Martin XO. We read the label, 'Excellence, Champagne Cognac'. Ryan goes, "Huh, I've heard of this but I don't think it's as expensive as some of the other cognacs father has in here." I go, "Whatever, this is plenty good enough for the likes of us. The bottle's less than half full so lets take it to your room." We stand up as Ryan mumbles, "Yeah, father probably's forgotten he even has this rot gut cognac." We both laugh at that, and I say, "Let's Google this Remy Martin XO stuff to find out what kind of booze we got here." I take the cognac and Ryan's gets some glasses, asking, "Do we mix it with anything?" I shrug, "I don't think so. Anyway come on, lets go up to your room. Your mother could walk in that door any second." In his bedroom Ryan signs online, and I'm like, "I know Jerry Remy is a broadcaster for the Red Sox, but I never heard of this Remy Martin person." Ryan goes, "Here it is. Huh, at the online shop it's $155 a bottle." I go, "Is that expensive for cognac?" He goes, "I don't think so, lets taste it." He pours an inch of cognac into a couple of squat juice glasses, probably an ounce and a half of cognac in each. Ryan sips it making a face, "Rot gut! Shit, balls!" I taste it and it burns going down a little, but I've had much, much worse hard liquor than this. I go, "It's got a nice nose with a hint of raspberry." He laughs, mumbling, "My ass has a hint of raspberry. This taste like ass as a matter of fact." We talk about today's events with Ryan finally embracing it all. Every now and then one of us says, "That calls for a toast," and we drink a splash of cognac, then bitch about it, "That burns like a mothafucka!" Mimicking Dog's version of mother-fucker. Other times we mimic Sammy, 'If I have another swallow of that rot gut cognac I think I'm gonna pee my pants'. We're both finally in really good moods and for that reason, and because we're a little drunk, everything strikes us as funny. It's like when I smoke pot. If I smoke pot, a guy could say 'grasshopper' and I'd laugh my ass off. Ryan tells me he knows how to score some weed, but it'd mean him connecting with last summer's sadist sex partner, and that ain't happening. Somehow by mentioning the pot and that dominant asshole from last summer, plus the whiskey, I let the name Zeke Dickerson slip out and Ryan's face gets bright red as he sort of freezes. "How, um, where, ah, oh fuck. How do you know that name, Dylan?" He's so startled he called me, Dylan. We're sitting on the floor cross-legged like Indians sit for a pow-wow, or whatever. I go, "Oh, fuck, um, I must have heard it at church, maybe after the service. You know, maybe when you were with the minister. Why? Who's Zeke Dickerson?" He's shaking his head, "Did Brad say anything about him?" I shrug, "I don't remember who said that name, why? Is he the guy you got the weed from last summer, um, the dominant asshole?" He mumbles, "Somebody must have told you about us last summer, but I don't know how they'd know." I emphatically say, "Nobody fuckin' told me shit about last summer!! What's the story, Ryan?" He snaps at me, "Call me fucking Albert! How many times do I need to tell you, fer chrissakes?!" I mumble, "Sorry, but is this Zeke asshole the one?" He goes, "Yeah, and if Brad knows about him I feel humiliated." I say, "Lets have another shot of cognac," and Ryan says, sort of to himself, "Brad's probably only including me because he wants to fuck you." I yell, "Albert, not that shit again! Stop the paranoia! Brad's got Timmy to fuck, he doesn't need me." Ryan's rubbing his face with the palm of his hand shaking his head again, "Oh fuck, I can't face those guys if everyone knows about what Dickerson did to me last summer. I knew all this was too good to be true." He moans on for a while feeling sorry for himself while I take another shot of cognac getting more and more pissed-off at Ryan's whining self-pity party. Finally I say, "Will you please shut the fuck up with that shit and listen to me." I pour us both another shot, saying, "Drink that and listen." Frowning, he picks up the glass and we gulp down the cognac that hardly burns at all by now. I go into a rambling rant about how he needs to forget about last summer and all the summers before that, "... because, Albert, that Ryan Wilcox doesn't exist anymore. You've taken over as your true self and if Brad or anyone knows about you and this Dickerson shit, so what?! If it's mentioned you says it's all greatly overblown and mostly gossipy bullshit. You haven't seen the guy for a year and you don't intend to ever see him again and blah, blah, blah." My rant goes on awhile helped by the booze and it finally gets through to Ryan, who says, "Yeah, I see your point, Danny, plus there's no way any of them knows anything more than vague rumors anyway. Dickerson isn't even from Marietta, he lives two towns away. He didn't go to Marietta high school, and anyway he's almost three years older than anyone at Bible study. Fuck, he doesn't know anybody from here except me." He's talking himself back into a positive frame of mind, and then he sort of slowly leans over until he falls against me. I give him a hug, "That's past history, Ryan, forget about it." He murmurs, "I'm Albert, and I'm a little drunk." He's got a good body to hug though, and with his face against my chest and my arms around the poor kid, I put my cheek on top of his head and rock us gently. Naturally his scent gets a hold of me making my dick stir. Lifting my head, I rub my fingers through his hair, saying, "Come on, buddy, we were having a really good night following a really good day. Don't dwell on the negative shit... it's the future that's looking bright. Can't change the past, but we can make the future a lot brighter, right?" I'm a friggin' philosopher all of a sudden. He takes a big breath sitting up, wiping his eyes, mumbling, "Yeah, I guess. No, you're right, fuck it! Sorry about the dramatics. Whether the guys have heard rumors or not, they still invited me to the party and the baseball team. Let's have another shot and call it a night." We throw down what I think is our sixth or seventh shot of cognac. That's enough to get us feeling a little drunk, but we drank the shots spread out over an hour and consequently we're still functioning okay. And we do not call it a night. I mumble, "Lets have a cigarette." We're outside behind the garage smoking cigarettes in the gazebo with very pleasant surroundings. There subtle lighting shining from the pretty shrubbery and flowers around the gazebo and a big moon plus a gazillion stars in the sky on this warm Georgia night. I start singing 'Georgia on My Mind'. I heard it a couple of times from a Ray Charles CD his parents had on when they're having cocktails before dinner. Ryan tries singing along until we both start fucking up the words and give it up laughing. Maybe we're a little bit drunker than I thought. In any case there's no more talk about Ryan's past summers. Instead we're talking about what position I should try-out for Saturday on the town's baseball team. We finally decide it'll be whatever position is weakest. Our theory: go after the weakest link, the lame and the infirm... like a tiger does. Interrupting our booze influenced discussion, we see headlights from his mother's car coming up the curving driveway and then the garage blocks the light and we hear the automatic garage door opener lifting the door, then she drives in. Ryan, goes, "Shhh, she won't see us if we're quiet." We watch her walking to the house a little unsteadily. Ryan whispers, "She gets a little hammered when she's out with the girls on her golf days." His mother goes inside the house and we finish our cigarettes. Ryan sprays both our mouths with Binaca peppermint breath freshener, and I mumble, "That shit burns, dude." Ryan goes, "It's intense, but it works," and we walk in the side door. We hear from the family room, "Is that you Albert?" We straighten up and walk together to the entrance of the family room with Ryan saying, "Yes, it is us." What the fuck, 'it is us?' She asks, "How was Bible study?" She's straightening up the room, putting magazines away and fluffing pillows. There isn't any slurring of her words so she's not very drunk. Ryan tells her Bible study was good and then mentions his participation in the discussion and about meeting Brad, "He's over his stuck-up phase and was quite friendly, even inviting Daniel and me to a party Saturday night." She appears sincerely enthralled by this news, "Albert, that's wonderful! I'm so happy you're finally meeting some of your peers. You know, your father says we'll be living here for at least ten years, so making some friends is a good idea." Ryan goes on to tell her we're invited to try out for Marietta's summer baseball team too, and then about Bill what's-his-name asking Ryan to put a good word in for a summer job. She's ecstatic for Ryan. Clapping her hands, "Albert, that's wonderful!" Ryan shows her the napkin with Bill Stark's info and his mother writes it down, saying, "I'm mentioning this to your father. He'll get this boy some work." It's obvious she's happy for Ryan, so I'm gonna need to revise my opinion of her once again. She's probably been aware of her son's inability to mix in with people his age since, well since forever. Ryan says, "It's Daniel who got everything started." His mother says, "Yes, you told us at dinner, Daniel, you'd met Bradford Blake." I say, "Yes, ma'am," and she says, "You and Albert make a excellent team and I'm glad you're, um, ah, friends." Ryan says, "Well, mother, I told you you'd be happy Daniel's a member of our family for the summer." Ryan sways bumping his shoulder against mine, and his mother adds, "And you were right, son, I just wish you wouldn't cut Daniel's hair so short. It's, um, too severe." Ryan shrugs, "Well, I feel like doing it like that," and he rubs my head roughly, then adds, "It's my specialty summer haircut for him, mother, and we both like it." His mother looks at me, asking, "Do you really, Daniel?" I say, "Yes, ma'am, if Albert likes my haircut than so do I." I may have said that too dramatically. She chuckles, "You two are so cute together, but shouldn't you be getting to bed?" Ryan says, "In a little while," and she goes up stairs to bed with us all saying, "Goodnight." I think his mother is proud of the way Ryan runs the show, his and my show, with me being his flunky. It makes me grin feeling good for Ryan, and I can only imagine how good it makes him feel. I don't especially care what his parents think of me as long as they like me enough for harmony in the family... ha ha. When his mother's out of ear shot, Ryan puts his hand on my head, mimicking me by overly dramatically saying, "Yes, ma'am, if Albert likes my haircut than so do I." I smirk at him, "Just a little brown-nosing to you, boss." He goes, "Keep it up, I'm liking it more every day. We're going to bed now," and he swats my ass, then takes my hand walking towards the first floor stairs. I go, "No hand-holding, what if your mother see us." Ryan says, "So what, you're my boyfriend," and he yanks on my arm. We hold hands going upstairs. In his bedroom we have one last shot of cognac and then he begins making out with me, which I can't resist. I get pushed onto his bed on my back with Ryan laying on top of me holding my arms stretched over my head and his fingers intertwined with mine. His lips and tongue slide on my lips and tongue, then as he sucks on them he's gently humping his hips bumping the lower part of his package against the head of my boner that's pointing upwards, flat against my stomach. I'm doing quiet moans of arousal as he give me one of his awesomely sexy kisses and then methodically licks his tongue all over my face giving me shivers as precum drools from my hard cock wetting through my khakis. When my face is covered with his saliva he unbuttons my pants and wiggles a hand behind and under me. His hand's inside my underpants and he squeezes my bare butt cheeks and then push his finger up my ass rubbing my prostate in a circular pattern while sucking on my mouth again and continuing to gently hump his hips against me. We're both soon moaning in our throats, and a minute later I hump my hips grunting, "I'm cumming, Albert," and hump my hips up off the mattress again as my body shudders and cum streams from my hard boner into my pants, then again, and again. Laying limp under Ryan moaning quietly, my body's doing little shudders at the flying sensation from my scintillating orgasm. Ryan stares into my eyes continuing to rub my prostate until I'm humping my hips again, this time to a phantom orgasm. Pulling his finger out of my ass he puts his lips against my ear murmuring, "There, your balls are milked good this time. Did you like that?" I'm in a submissive trance without even noticing when the delicious shadow of submissiveness drifted over my brain. I hear myself murmur, "Yes, Albert." He chuckles, gives me a wet kiss, then whispers, "Get up to your bedroom and take your clothes off. I'll be up after I'm sure mother's asleep." He slides off me and when I stand, almost in a trance, he pulls my pants off my ass and spanks me, "SLAP!SLAP!" Giggling, he says, "It's so awesome how submissive you get. Now get up those stairs, boy," but when I try leaving he hugs me against him, saying in my ear, "Thank you for everything, Dylan. I love you so much it scares me." I nod my head and mumble, "Me too, Ryan, um, Albert. Both of you," and go up the secret staircase with my delicious submissive trance fading. It drifted away when Ryan dropped his dominant demeanor to thank me. I'm still feeling good though, and feeling good for Ryan too. Things are seemingly turning his way. It's a good start anyway. After undressing and putting the clothes in the hamper I go into the bathroom naked to take a leak, clean up, and brush my teeth. I'm a little drunk, but not so bad that I expect much of a hangover tomorrow. In bed, naked again tonight, I have a touch of a guilty conscience betraying Mrs. Wilcox's swearing on the Bible thing. Ryan and I swore we wouldn't screw in her house. Then I think how sneaky we were to open the secret stairs, and his mothers showing compassion and generally being so much nicer than I expected. Jeez, maybe I should say something to Ryan about our deceit. Finally my world famous rationalization comes to the rescue and I see it in a different light. First of all there's Ryan's shaky premise that this is his house too and his beliefs have as much weight as his parents, which requires a suspension of disbelief on my part to buy that line of thinking. Then once that's achieved I can see the secret stairs as Ryan and me being considerate of his parents. Just think how badly they'd feel if they accidentally caught Ryan coming down the hall stairs from my bedroom with his dick still half boned up and sloppy with his cum or my saliva. It'd be shocking to them and terribly awkward for everyone, so we're sparing them that trauma. Being slightly devious about our sex together is better for everyone. Later, when Ryan crawls in bed naked with me, he needs to wake me like he did last night. I don't know what time it is when he gets his arms around me pressing his big boy cock against the side of my thigh. He whispers, "Did you get a nice submissive sense when I milked your nuts?" I nod my head in the dark, murmuring, "You know I did, but it didn't last long. It felt awesome though when you were dominantly making me cum spontaneously like that." He whispers, "Good, that's why I did it. I'm providing all the sexual dominance you need." Huh! He's actually right about that, which proves I'm slowly losing the need for it. Maybe I'm outgrowing that fetish. We make-out again and I like making out with him if it's leading towards sex... I'm fine with that. I like making-out in general, but Ryan's random lovers kisses at other times just don't feel right. It's awfully nice though having a guy with a hot body in bed with me. I miss that now after sleeping with the ultimate hot body all during our freshman and sophomore years. When our hard boners begin drooling precum, Ryan asks, "Ya wanna suck my cock?" I nod in the dark again, then go under the cover to get his big dick in my fist to stroke it a few times before sucking the head into my mouth and moving the tip of my tongue inside his cock's foreskin. When his boner is this hard most of his foreskin is dragged off the head, but I make do. Ryan's a clean lad so there's no foreign matter under the foreskin, just the lower part of his swollen cock's one-eyed head. Under the covers this close to his groin Ryan's scent is concentrated and it adds to my arousal as a quiet moan slips out, "Oooh, mmm," and I almost cum prematurely. I wait a few seconds holding my breath until the urge fades and then begin licking his cock from his balls to the head, then suck on the head a few seconds and do it all over again. After doing that six or seven times I push the head of his boned-up cock in my throat, but I'm not in the right position to do a good deep throating so go back to licking, sucking, and stroking Ryan's large hard organ. I'd be happy to suck on his boner unit we both climax, but Ryan reaches under the covers with a hand under my chin pulling my head up. "Oooh, that felt good, Danny, but I almost shot off in your mouth. Roll up on your side and I'll fuck you slowly to make it last awhile." I do that with Ryan murmuring, "Ya know, I should be mixing in more lovers fucks with the sub/dom ones because we are lovers whether you want to admit it to yourself or not." There he goes again with the talk of us being lovers. I'm anxious to feel his cock up my ass though, so I don't get into a debate about his misconception. On my side I pull my knees up with another little moan of arousal because I love this stuff. Ryan's on his side, up against my back with a hand rubbing across my chest until he finds my nip ring. He fiddles with that making my nipple hard. His other hand guides his wet boner head to my asshole. The lips of my anus spread as about half the head pushes in tightly. I again think of our days using lubricant and while it's an easier entrance, this is sexier to me, more natural and real. A little more painful, but less so then when we started our trip ten days ago. "Umm, " from Ryan as sensations fire off the head of his cock, and I know that feeling too. A small thrust almost gets the head past my sphincter, but not quite. The head of his swollen cock is the widest part of his erect penis so the lips of my asshole are stretched the most right now making me hold my breath against the pain. I hold my breath while my body stays relaxed. Then the head is fully inside my one-and-a-half inch anus being tightly enveloped by the inner sphincter muscle while the lips of my anus snuggle around the skinnier neck just below the head. It's such a nice fit, such a nice feeling being connected to another guy like this. As sensations begin sparking I arch my back, "Aaaah, oooh, feels good, Albert." Ryan asks, "You're okay, right?" I murmur, "Yeah, the pain wasn't bad and it's fading already." Actually the pain and pleasure combination almost had me blowing my load. "Mmmm, feeling really good now, Albert." Slowly, very tightly, but smoothly the swollen head of his boner makes it's way up my ass going across my prostate making me moan again and lean back into Ryan, "Mmmm, oooh." His moving cock's massaging my prostate constantly and that may be the most luscious part of being fucked up the ass. Anal sex is the most pleasurable experience I know. My rectum is a mighty erogenous zone with my prostate orgasmic to the touch. A quiet grunt from Ryan and then a hip thrust and now he's up inside me far enough that his pubic hairs are tickling my buttocks. The last half inch of hard shaft goes inside me and we both go, "Aaaah," and breath noisily. It's impossible for me not to be vocal during anal sex because each penetration causes pleasure sensations, one after another, and then every succeeding thrust recreates the same thrilling sensation all over again. With Ryan's big hard penis inside me I feel heavier now, like I gained ten pounds. All kinds of pleasure signals zip around the nerve endings in my rectum making me suck on my bottom lip as my shoulders shudder twice and when Ryan's chin hits the top of my shoulder it sends a sexy chill zipping down my spine. I take a big inhale absorbing Ryan's sexy scent, then stroke my cock a few times as sexual pleasure buzzes around my groin getting me squirming and whispering, "Fuck me, Albert. Your cock feels so good up my ass." Ryan tentatively moves his boner back and forth in my rectum a few times to see if I'm good with it, and I am because his moving bare-skin cock continues constantly massaging my walnut sized prostate and the pleasure makes me close my eyes concentrating on it. And that's not all, my anus is a repository of an untold number of nerve endings capable of creating enormous pleasure when stimulated by his moving boner. His cock pulls back until it's bulbous head catches the lips of my asshole holding it in, then he slides it tightly eight inches back up my ass and I moan again overcome with sexual pleasure. Ryan's ready to go and he begins smoothly and steadily doing full eight inch unhurried thrusts back and forth in my ass. His face against my back, his forehead against my shoulder as quiet, very subdued, "Slap, slap, slap, slap," sounds of his body slapping against mine goes on for a delicious seven or eight minutes. My eyes stay closed as I moan at the pleasure sensations bombarding the pleasure area in my brain. I'm moaning, "Ummm," with each drive up my rectum, and "Oooh," with each withdrawal. My moans so quiet I don't think Ryan even hears them. Anal fucking feels so good it's impossible not to form a bond with my sex partner. And that's true even when he's a random side-sex buddy mostly interested in his own pleasure. I get a warm feeling for him because of the pleasure our sex act is giving me. Sure, it often hurts for a few seconds initially, but I'm still relaxed. I might hold my breath at first, but my body's relaxed until climax when every tightening muscle seems to participate in my glorious orgasm. Ryan's maintaining his steady thrusting with quiet, "Oooh," moans as his boner continues it constant movement in my rectum, time after time after time. Tight smooth trips in my ass constantly sensitizing my anus and prostate both when his hard cock's going in and coming back, then in again and back until it's one long continuous pleasure trip for me. Nothing compares to the pleasure and contentment I'm feeling as I visualize his big fat boner pulling out and then smoothly disappearing up my ass. Almost ten minutes of sexual pleasure that I'd love to experience for another hour except my balls have other plans. They're hard and near the top of my scrotum sizzling with warnings of impending climax. It feels so good my body is shuddering with the anticipation of this sexual gift nature's given us. The building, building, building sensations of climax has me doing a long quiet whine as my body tightens until I'm stiff as my boner. Ryan's body gets tight too and he begins desperate humping against my buttocks and we climax together. There's an explosion of sensations as my hips hump sending a long dizzying stream of cum from my stone-hard boner straight out and over the mattress to land unseen on the floor. Ryan and I shudder together gasping and shooting more of our spunk, his up my ass and mine not making it over the mattress this time. More humping against my ass but without the desperation of a few seconds ago, then a chorus of our satisfied moans as we lay together limply tightening only our stomach muscles squeezing out the last drools of cum, then our bodies are totally limp. We're making the normal deep breathing sounds after sex as I'm smiling and feeling really good. Coming back down to earth Ryan lets out a long breath, rubs my head, then pulls his cock out of my ass and we lay on our backs still catching up on our breathing. Our hearts rates calm down quickly to under a hundred beats per minute, and then to normal. I don't know what my normal heart rate is, but I know when it feels normal to me. Ryan turns his head to look at me, "You okay?" I go, "Yep, much better than okay. That was awesome, Albert." He murmurs, "It's always awesome with you." We're both content, but tired too, so we don't say much more. I'm addicted to snuggling with another cute guy while going to sleep, spoiled by Robby the last two years at college. I roll over laying my head next to Ryan's with my arm across his chest and fall asleep with a grin on my face because I expect my ass will be glued to the sheets by his dried cum again, like it was yesterday morning. Ryan's not in bed when I wake up. I've no idea when he went down the secret staircase to his bedroom, but I gotta give him props for waiting until I was deep asleep before he left. He's basically a good guy and everything would be pretty good if he didn't claim we're in love. I don't know if he is knows what being in love with someone is like, but he say he's does, and claims to be in love with me. That's a big problem right there because I know I'll never be able to return that kind of love to him. My love for Robby is too strong, for too long... nothing can make a dent in that. Laying in bed I feel honored by Ryan's love, but Robby's love has become almost as important to me as my brother's love. Knowing Robby loves me is like a sense of security and makes me feel good about myself. You know, if someone like Robby can love me so deeply I must be an okay person. It's like Robby and I care about the other's needs and wants more than our own. He's happy when I'm happy, and I'm happy when he's happy, and I don't shine if he don't shine... it's like that with Robby and me. It's little things too, little considerations for each other over the years that add up to true love. I don't need to wonder if he loves me and vice versus because we know we're in love with each other. Robby used to question if I loved him like he loves me, but sometime during the last year or so he's come to believe I do. It's given us trust in each other, even when it comes to side-sex. We both participate in side-sex but feel confident they'll come a time when we won't. We're twenty years old, not thirty, so we've got the time. It's been three years in the making and can't be denied that Robby's and my love has stood the test of time. I don't see anything changing that. Being separated has actually strengthened my commitment of true love for Robby. like I kinda thought it would. Showered, dressed, and ready for Thursday I'm feeling good, and once again I'm ready to leave for work before Ryan. He chuckles when I walk into his bedroom with him still getting dressed. "Fuck, Daniel, I thought I was the early bird, but you get the worm every time." I nod my head, "Ya think we have time to get your worm hard for a morning quickie?" He laughs, "Sorry, I need to get right to work because my boss is going to show me something different about the next truck load of boxes," I go, "Damn! I understand though, so how is it working for him?" Ryan's done getting dressed and we start down the steps as he tells me, "Josh is totally no nonsense and he's blunt. I need to keep telling myself he doesn't hate me, it's just the way he is." I go, "You're handling this job awesomely, boss," and he goes, "Yeah? Thanks, I feel good about things so far." He has to add 'so far' because he always expects the worst. I guess that's understandable considering things haven't gone too good for him in the past, although that's beginning to change. On a positive note, I say, "Today's a golf lesson day, right?" He nods his head, "Yep, I'm looking forward to it," and we're out the door. Thursday at work goes pretty much like the previous days. And, as I predicted Aaron calls in sick again so I guess my premonition was right. Like yesterday Sam works with Dog and me, then Ryan puts in a couple hours helping us after lunch. We end up being pretty much on schedule even though we're one man down. Ryan's a little pissed at Aaron by now because he had to work through lunch catching up on his stuff, and then to finish catching-up he stayed after work too. We barely make it to golf practice on time. During the day Dog was friendly and he even hinted he might try out for the baseball team with Ryan and me, "That's assuming y'all mothafuckas got some other brothers on the team." His hair was back in the ponytail today, but he likes Sam's flattop, telling me, "Very professional looking haircut y'all did for Sammy, Danny Boy, but I'd like to see you give a mothafuckan haircut to a brother before I let you near my hair." I could have said, 'Don't do me any favors. It's me who would be doing you the favor'. I don't though because I know this haircut thing with him has become a running gag with us. It'll probably drag on all summer. He'll be like 'maybe' he'll let me give him a free haircut, and then 'maybe not'. His loss if he doesn't take my offer. Speaking of haircuts, I feel bad about blowing off Sam's innocent question about me giving his brothers haircuts. During the day I asked him for more details about his brothers, and he said, "Oh man, thanks, Danny, they asked me to ask you when you'd give them haircuts." Quite presumptuous of him and his brothers... ha ha. I go, "Ya understand I'm not actually committing to anything yet, Sam, just considering it." Ignoring that, he goes, "Well yeah, all my brothers liked my haircut, but Tomas says his homie cuts his hair, and my bro who works for Lockheed lives with his girlfriend and she's a hair stylist. Then there's Lester who has dread locks and doesn't want a haircut. That leave my seven year old brother, Sly, and Major, who's thirteen, and my seventeen year old brother, Golden. They all badly need haircuts and my mom told them to use my barber, who's you." His mother's quite presumptuous too. Sam goes, "That's if you're willing, and I'll understand if it's too much to ask." Okay, I'll take Sammy off the presumptuous list. I ask, "What do your brothers say about me giving them haircuts?" Sam goes, "Oh, like I said, they all said for me to ask you for free haircuts. They all have part time jobs except Sly, and they pay for their own haircuts about twice a year. My mom cuts Sly's hair and she's one terrible barber so I feel bad for him. Whaddaya say, Danny?" I could mention that most of his brothers have funny names, but instead I tell him we'll work something out. I shouldn't pry but I'm curious, "Um, your father lives at home, does he?" Sam shakes his head, "Not mine, and neither of my bro's daddies live with mom either. Not for a couple years now. Mom works for a bank but she don't make much. Counting mom there's still seven of us at home in a two bedrooms assisted-living ranch house that's falling apart. " Jesus! I pat him on the back thinking it's admirably of him that he didn't feel the least bit self-conscious sharing that rather unusual information with me. So I'll get a 'good deed' badge giving them free haircuts. I tell him we'll work something out soon. I thought I'd be missing giving the posse boys haircuts and I still do miss doing that, but Sam and his brothers will sorta keep me in practice. Maybe the Wilcox's garage would be the best place to do it. I'll ask Ryan. The golf lesson was very disappointing because I hit a hundred golf balls and didn't seem to improve over Tuesday's progress. Our coach, Terry Merriweather, was all business today but nice enough to me. Apparently Ryan chasti sing him Tuesday was still on Terry's mind. He was a little cool towards Ryan and afterwards Ryan said, "Maybe I came on a little too strong with Terry on Tuesday. Did he seem like he was just going through the motions with you?" We're putting our clubs in the locker as I mumble, "Um, I guess he was, Albert, but it was better than when he was mocking me." Going up the steps, Ryan's like, "Dad will be home tonight and I'll ask him if he think's Terry Merriweather's doing a good job with our lessons. Mr. Wilcox is indeed with us for dinner tonight. We have meatloaf, scalloped potatoes, green bean casserole, and salad. Damn good food from Mrs. Wilcox's kitchen. Conversation for most of the dinner consisted of Mr. W. telling Mrs. W. about the problems he ran into in New York City even though she doesn't appear the slightest bit interested and tries to interrupt with her experience golfing yesterday. Ryan and I exchange smirks across the table trying not to get the giggles, but it is kind of funny. Sometimes they're talking at once seemingly unaware the other is talking. As Ryan and I are cleaning up he tells me that his parents talking at the same time isn't unusual. I will say they both seemed in good moods. I guess they're used to each other by now. Ryan obviously didn't get a chance to mention our golf coach and I'm kind of glad he didn't. It could create an awkward situation if Mr. W. made a stink about it and we still went to lessons with Terry. After cleaning up the kitchen Ryan and I shoot pool for awhile talking about Saturday's baseball tryouts and Brad's party that night. Ryan's still uptight about the party. Dumb! Later we watch a movie in his room on the big hi-def screen, and after his mother goes to bed we're on our way up the secret stairs to my bedroom. I'm not feeling guilty so much tonight as I'm feeling horny. "You fuck awesomely, Albert, but we're not doing it three or four times a day like, um, you said we would." He squeezes the back of my neck, "Don't think I wouldn't like to, Danny, you know me better than that. Let's try for morning and night sex as a compromise, okay?" I go, "Yeah, sure!" That plus occasional quick hot fucks with Brad might get me through the summer. Then there's the partying Saturday night and who knows what opportunities might develop with that. Yeah, but for now... "Get undressed, Danny, I'm feeling like some doggy-style fucking." to be continue... 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. (Or buy the 'print' version.) 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 ============================================ Please consider a tax deductible donation of any size to nonprofit Nifty to help with the expense of maintaining this ginormous free story site. Thank you very much. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html