Date: Sat, 25 Jul 2015 08:12:12 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION  Chapter  3

DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION


Chapter  3


by  Donny Mumford


It looks  like we'll be spending our second night at a Days Inn. This motel
is in West  Virginia, and looking at it from the outside it appears to be
on the same luxury  level as the Motel 6 we stayed at last night. That would
be a level above the  Bates Motel. Nah, it's not that bad, it's fine. The
thing is I'm thinking about  road trips with Willie Worthington and he'd never
come near either of these  first two inexpensive motels, but like I said
they suit me fine, and that's  especially true because I've only got three
hundred dollars left in my debit  account. That's what's left from the money I
earned last summer. When Ryan first  started talking about this trip he
alluded to us staying at nice hotels, and he  also alluded once or twice that
he'd pick up the expense. That's when he wasn't  sure I'd agree to spend ten
weeks this summer with him. It was also before he  went home for spring break
and talked to his parents about his plans. His  parents reluctantly are
going along with the basic part, which is me staying  with them, but they did
considerable alterations to other aspects of Ryan's original plans, some of
which I'm sure I haven't heard about yet. So, I expect more surprises,  and
not the pleasant kind. Or maybe I'm wrong.


The money  thing isn't important though. What is important at the moment is
Ryan's claim  that I'm in love with him and that I'll soon realize it
myself. Obviously that's  not going to happen, so it could develop into a very
awkward situation. Ryan's  talked himself into believing I fell in love with
him during the last semester  and he claims without 'outside influences'
clouding my thinking I'll realize  we're in love. I'm taking a wild guess and
assuming the 'outside influences'  he's referring to is in the person of one
Rob Dickers. I suppose I should be  annoyed at Ryan's presumption, but mostly
I feel sorry for him. As is true for a  number of my friends, I love Ryan
as  a friend, but I'm very far from being  'in love' with him, or any of the
others. That's not going to change no matter  if Ryan and I spend ten weeks
or ten months together. Ryan believing I've  changed my mind about being in
love with Robby is the same thinking that has him  convinced his parents
dote on him. I won't, and they don't. Meaning I won't fall  in love with him,
and his parents don't dote on him. Not from everything he's  told me anyhow.
I'm just not sure that it should be my responsibility to  enlighten him
about these matters. If his rationalizations, or fantasies, or  whatever they
are make him happy, maybe I shouldn't ruin it for him. I didn't  really expect
I'd need to deal with Ryan's relationship with his parents, or  correct his
misconceptions about him and me, but if not me, then  who?

Glancing at  him as he's parking the Mini at the motel, he's smiling and
humming and feeling  good about himself. Balls, I hate raining on his, or
anybody else's, parade.  Taking a deep breath I'm realizing I don't know what to
do. My first thought is  to call Chubby and ask him, except I'm supposed to
be trying to handle things  myself. Yeah well, that's become my objective
since realizing I'd painted myself  into a corner and couldn't get out of
this Georgia situation. Circumstances  developed, kinda on their own,
compelling me to follow through with this trip,  but I'm not rehashing those factors
again. I've been over them in my head enough  times already. I need to think
of a way to convince Ryan I'm not in love with  him, but without hurting
his feelings, and the sooner I can do that the better.  His relationship with
his parents is something to maybe concern myself  with at some time later.
And that goes for my personal concerns about me  and his parents, and me
living in their house. Ya know what? Dealing with  problems on my own blows,
that's what.


We've  checked in at the office and we're now in our room with Ryan
unpacking his  suitcase and distributing his clothes into bureau drawers. Watching
him I'm  thinking, 'What a waste of time that is!' He'll have to repack
everything in the morning. I leave my clothes in the duffle bag, taking out
only  what I'll need tonight. Of course that means my $3000 suit is crammed in
the  bottom and will need to be pressed before I can wear it. Well, what the
fuck, I  guess everything in my duffle bag will need to be ironed before
wearing it. Big  deal, so I'll iron what I need. Hey, maybe I'll asked Mrs.
Wilcox to iron all my  stuff for me. Ha ha, fat fucking chance! When Ryan's
done unpacking we go  outside and wander around smoking cigarettes and getting
the kinks out of our  bodies. Sitting seven hours in a car, traveling
seventy to eighty miles an hour  isn't what I consider relaxing. Huh, it's kinda
funny that Ryan's parents  wouldn't pay for the Mini Cooper to be delivered
back to Georgia when they had  no problem paying for it to be delivered to
Merrimack. I may be paranoid, but I  can't help but wonder if that has
anything to do with Ryan bringing home moi as  a house guest for the summer.
Flying would cost me less than this road trip, but  not his parents obviously...
shipping a car eleven hundred miles is probably  expensive.


After  walking around the entire Days Inn we're back where we started, so
we lean  against the Coke machine that's next to our room and smoke a second
cigarette.  Ryan's in an especially good mood, even admitting that driving
faster is less  stressful than driving the speed limit. I shrug, "Yeah,
that's because we're  more or less in the flow of traffic rather than being
conspicuously slower than  all the other cars. Driving too slowly on a high-speed
highway is as  dangerous as driving too fast," He says, "Yeah, I agree with
you. See, I learned  something from you, Dylan. We're actually a pretty
damn good team, aren't we?" I  make a noncommittal half head nod, half shrug.
Back inside the room we wash up  in the bathroom, then Ryan gets a
mischievous grin on his face, saying, "Time  for you to strip, Dylan boy. Your pussy
needs a workout." I hesitate, thinking  this is as good a time as any to
correct his misconception about us being in  love. Dealing with it now puts the
problem in the past, putting it off means  it's a problem for the future. I
don't want it hanging over my head and it's  simply wrong of me to ignore
his misconception, that reinforces in his mind that  he's right. Ryan sees I'm
just standing here, so he quietly asks, "What's wrong,  Dylan? I said you
need to get undressed now and you're... um..." Blowing out my  cheeks, I go,
"First there's something I need to talk with you about, Ryan." He  waves his
hand at me, "I knew it! I fucked up, didn't I? Got ahead of myself a  little
bit about you being in love with me. You were trying to tell me that when
you didn't confirm it, right?" I shrug, "Um, yeah, that's pretty much it. I
do  love you, that part's true, but..." He interrupts, "It's not the same
thing, I  know. You love me like a friend, blah, blah, blah." I quietly says,
"That's  nothing to be flip about, Ryan." He goes, "I know, forgive me for
projecting my  wishes onto you, Dylan." I do a full shrug this time, kinda
feeling embarrassed  for him. Ryan nods his head, mumbling, "You're nice for not
making fun of  my premature assumption. Most guys would have mocked me." I
go, "No they  wouldn't, nobody would mock you about something like that.
It's, um, flattering  you care about that so much, or care about me like that.
You have to admit  though, I've always told you I love Rob, right? I've been
up front about  that always." He nods his head, "Yes, and I appreciate your
honesty. I guess I'm  privileged to be one of your fuck buddies, Dylan. I'm
grateful for that at  least." I go, "Ah, come on, Ryan! Don't get all
dramatic on me, and don't  degrade what we've got. We're the best fuck buddies of
all time. Don't make that  seem less than it is."



Ryan's  sitting on the edge of the bed smelling the back of his wrist,
apparently  thinking about a way of saving some face. I'm sitting in the only
chair in the  room trying not to grin about him picking-up my habit, then he
asks, "Can we  forget I ever said all that dumb stuff?" I smile then, and
with a fake confused  look on my face, ask, "Forget about what dumb stuff?" He
grins back at me, "I  can't remember either." And trying to help him move
past this, I'm like, "Hey,  you haven't rubbed my awesome haircut for awhile
now, what's up with that?" With  half a grin on his face, he gets up and
comes over to me and rubs my head,  muttering, "Nice haircut, dude," and I go,
"That's right, it is... and so is  yours." His upper teeth scrap his bottom
lip as he does a full grin and slowly  sits on my lap facing me, a leg on
either side of mine. His feet are two inches  off the floor as he leans into me
for a kiss, then another one with him  murmuring, "Thanks, Dylan." I hug
him and we get into a hot make-out with both  of us standing up as slowly as
he sat down. We're clinging to one another  kissing and licking for five
minutes or so. Then we break off the kissing, but  keep our arms around each
other hugging with the side of our faces together,  both of us catching our
breath. His boner pokes my leg through his jeans, and  mine pokes his groin,
just below his belt. Panting with arousal, and hoping to  sooth any hurt
feelings he may have, I put my lips on his ear, murmuring, "My  pussy feels okay
now, Ryan." We let go of each other and quickly shed our  clothes, dropping
them on the floor all around us, then hug each other's naked  body with our
boners between our bellies.


We're quickly into a uber  hot sexual encounter with Ryan turning me around
and fucking me standing up,  sans lube this time. Grunting with the effort
he fucks me hard and fast, both  his arms around my waist, my back sweaty
against his chest as he thrust his  boner back and forth in my rectum, each
hard thrust bumps my hips out a little.  I'm limp in his arms as Ryan hammers
his cock inside me, both of us moaning at  the sizzling sensations of this
hot desperate sexual act. My rectum was a little  sore to start with and
sorer by the time my back arches and I squeal at the  fantastic climax Ryan
fucks out of me. My cum streams out a good three feet  before dropping to the
carpet. Ryan blows a huge load up my ass, then pulls his  cock out and turns
me around facing him. A sexy wet kiss and then his hand's at  the back of my
head pulling lightly. I bend over and take his cock, sloppy with  spunk, in
my mouth sucking and licking it for quite awhile until I find myself  in a
submissive trance, then I slowly sink to my knees wrapping my arms around
his ass with the head of his cock at the back of my throat. Ryan's rubbing my
head with me really get into sucking and licking his cock and balls now.
The  more I suck his cock the harder mine gets. Ryan gasps with arousal and
begins a  roughly deep throating me with my head way back, and when he pulls
his cock out  of my throat, then out of my mouth and a string of new precum
connects his  cock's pee-slit to my lips. The string breaks drifting down
wetly against my  chin. Ryan turns around and bends over, his ass in my face. I
spread his butt  cheeks and lick along his ass crack right over his
asshole, then again before  sucking and lapping at his anus. When my tongue in up
his ass a half inch or so  I feel my follow-up orgasm building. Thirty
seconds later, with a submissive  moan from my throat and my tongue on his anus,
my hips hump and out shoots a  short stream of cum between Ryan's legs, then
two shorter ones leaving me  quivering with sexual sensations that circle
all around my groin area, buzzing  with sexual pleasure.


My mouth comes off his  asshole, me gasping at that little second orgasm.
Ryan turn around again and I  suck his cock again while he humps his hips
gasping along with me. He's holding  my head between his hands as he whines at
his impending orgasm, he does two hip  humps shooting three short blast of
cum into my mouth, one of the cum shots hits  the back of my throat gagging
me for a second. A couple more hip thrust, then he  pulls his softening cock
out and slowly sits down on the floor next to me,  sighing contentedly. We
lean against one another breathing hard. More noisy  breathing for thirty
seconds or so, then Ryan takes my hand and stands, pulling  me up. We grin at
each other without saying anything while walking to the bed.  After pulling
back the bedspread we lay together on the sheets in each other  arms. It's
cozy and I'm feeling very relaxed and sexually satisfied, Ryan too  apparently
as shortly we both fall asleep. I don't know how long we nap, but  when I
wake-up it's dark outside the window and Ryan's still sleeping. There was
emotion involved in discussing the ticklish subject of love, then we had our
double-orgasm sexual experience which can tire a person out. Add to that
seven  and a half hours of high speed driving and it all adds up to... a nap.
The  second one for me today. I run my fingers through Ryan's hair, he opens
his eyes  and we do a little smile at each other. It looks like he's fine so
I give him a  kiss hoping our earlier discussion doesn't make things
awkward between us.  Neither of us mentions it as we lay here talking quietly,
feeling too lazy for  dinner just yet. We're talking about the drive so far and
about some of the  crazy drivers we encountered along the way. Somehow we
get on the topic of cars  and I find out Ryan has a motorbike. It was a
Christmas present a Christmas ago.  The motorbike was going to be a surprise for
me and it gets me thinking about  riding behind Sunny on his motorbike and I
gotta admit I'm looking forward to  riding Ryan's death-trap-on-wheels
myself. Later I discover his father drives a  BMW and his mother a Lexus, but he
doesn't know the model of either one. I don't  know cars either, but there
are guys at college who know every model of every  make going back forty
years.


Laying here  with Ryan I'm kinda feeling proud of myself for bringing up
that awkward lovers  misconception subject earlier, but at the same time I
gotta admit Ryan  recognized his mistake almost immediately. That made the
whole dicey situation  easier than I expected. I'm glad it's behind us because
other than that the rest  of our trip has been kinda cool. It's a nice
feeling being on our own during  this road trip, especially without me needing to
worry about much of anything.  Ryan's in charge and he has everything
planned out and I'm more or less going  along for the ride. At least until we get
where we're going, and then the  challenge of meeting the Wilcox parental
unit needs to be dealt with somehow.  From what I surmises from the little
things Ryan's said, an open-arms welcome  seems out of the question. Now I'm
hoping for at least a neutral welcome as  opposed to an uncomfortable subtly
hostile one. It's actually too soon to be  worried about that shit though.
We've still got two-plus days of driving ahead  of us. The sex has been
special too, and I'm looking forward to more of that.  What the hell, generally
speaking we're getting along wonderfully. No more  problems as far as I can
see, and Ryan seems very happy about everything too.  Out trip's been about as
good as could be expected I guess, so I think Ryan and  I will be fine
together the next ten weeks.


We're  cleaning ourselves up a little, getting ready to go out for a late
dinner.  Ryan's drying his hands and face, saying, "We're within seven
hundred miles of  home, Dylan, so call me Albert all the time now, okay? It's
stupid, but kinda  important to me so I'd really appreciate your cooperation
with the name thing."  I'm like, "Sure, Albert. Where we eating dinner?" He
shrugs, "I'm gonna check my  cellphone and see what's around here." And that's
what he does. The closest  restaurant is a Burger King, so he chooses that.
Using my iPhone as a GPS I  give Ryan directions. Personally I'd prefer a
real restaurant with a waiter  taking our order and so forth, but Ryan's in
charge so it's going to be fast  food tonight. Willie's definitely spoiled me
for any serious traveling.  Everything's top-shelf with him and I sort of
got used to that and took it for  granted. This is the real world though, so
it's diners and Burger King
for Ryan and me. In less  then ten minutes we're at a stop sign across the
street from the Burger  King restaurant. We exchange frowns though because
the parking lot is full  of big motorcycles and there are a number of
individuals wearing black  motorcycle type clothing lurking among the bikes. We
gawk at them, then look at  each other again, with Ryan asking, "Hell's
Angels?" I shrug, mumbling, "I don't  know," and he says, "I'll park here,"and he
backs the Mini up, parking it at the  curb. It's warm enough that we had the
top down, but Ryan says, "To be safe I'm  putting the top up before locking
the car." The top goes up, we get out, and he  locks the Mini, saying,
"We'll walk over to scope the situation out, Dylan. Lets  do that a block down
from Burger King and the Hell's Angels, or whoever  they are." I'm like,
"Roger that, Albert.  If it looks like trouble we'll  just go someplace else." We
light cigarettes to show what bad-asses we are, then  saunter across the
street with both of us smelling the back of our wrist. That  makes me laugh
because we both must look freaky with the back of our hands to  our face. When
I laugh out loud Ryan gives me a stern look, "Don't draw  attention to us."
We cross the street twenty or thirty feet down from Burger  King looking
back at the motorcycles and the rough-looking trade milling around  them.


Standing on the Burger  King side of the street half a block away it's
quickly apparent that no  one's paying any attention to us. Then a
mannish-looking woman comes out of the  fast food joint and shouts to someone in the
parking lot. She must be one of the  motorcycle gang's girlfriend, although not
a young one and she doesn't look much  like a girl. She's oldish looking
with her gray hair cut in a flat-top, and  she's dressed like a biker guy.
She's carrying her helmet in one hand while  finishing a burger in the other.
Very un-lady-like, she gobbles down half a  burger then wipes across her lips
with her thumb and forefinger, then wipes her  fingers on her jeans. After
lighting a cigarette, she leans against the railing  outside the front door
like she's waiting for somebody. We're smoking our  cigarettes and evaluating
the situation, as Ryan quietly asks, "Whaddaya think,  Dylan, should we go
in past her/him or whatever it is?" I say, "I don't know,  she's obviously a
fairly large bull dyke, so..." and Ryan laughs putting his  hand over his
mouth so she doesn't hear him. I'm grinning at him wondering  what's so
funny, then he says, "Fuck, the casual way you said 'bull dyke' struck  me funny.
Bull dyke, huh?" I say, "Yeah, I actually met one a long time ago, and
they can be trouble. The one I met had an issue with guys in general," and Ryan
 asks, "Even gay guys?" I go, "I don't really know, I just met the one
briefly."


Then another biker comes out  of Burger King and joins the first one. It's
a butch looking woman in her  early twenties. She takes the bull dyke's
cigarette and drags on it. Actually  this second one would be a cute guy except
for her big tits, and that other  small matter between her legs. She's
wearing black skinny jeans with a wide belt  that has a big silver belt buckle.
Her t-shirt is stretched in front by the  previously mentioned huge jugs and
she's got a vest over her t-shirt with many  buttons pinned to it. The kind
of button's with sayings or ads on them that some  people collect. She's
standing there sort of arrogantly, like a tough dude would  stand, arguing with
the gray-haired flat-top person. We stare at then frowning,  not wanting to
admit we'd rather not have to walk by them into the  restaurant. Someone
behind us  says, "Weird, huh?" Ryan and I both sort of jump from being
startled. We turn  around and see a guy about our age with unruly yellow hair  and
a pleasant face. He has blond beard stubble and a fully developed beard that
 looks bristly. The guy's a couple inches taller than me with a slender
body,  wide shoulders and a bit of a barrel chest. He's wearing jeans, a denim
jacket  over a t-shirt, and he's holding a Red Bull Racing cap against his
leg. He keeps  pushing his long bangs out of his eyes with a finger, but  the
hair fall right back down, so he does it again. His fingernails are black
with dirt, or grease, or something I don't want to think about. He says,
"Kinda  scary looking, aren't they? They're members of the Washington, D.C.
chapter of  DOB."

Ryan and I are speechless for a moment as the guy holds out his hand,
saying, "Parker Jeters," and we shake hands briefly, saying our names. Ryan
saying 'Ryan' instead of Albert, which makes me grin. He's never going to pull
off the Albert thing, and I know I'm gonna screw it up. Parker asks,
"Y'all from Georgia? I saw your Mini Cooper down a ways across the street  with
Georgia tags." Ryan tells him where we're headed and Parker says, "Oh, I've
got an aunt lives in Marietta." He pronounced 'aunt' as 'ant'." Ryan tells
him  we're coming from Merrimack College in Massachusetts and he says, "No
shit,  college students, eh? I flunked out of Florida state two years ago,"
pronouncing  'Florida' as 'Flow-ri-da. I ask, "What's DOB stand for? You said
the bikers were  DOB." He looks at me, then grins pointing at my head
chuckling rudely,  exclaiming, "What the fuck kinda haircut do you got there on
your head? And you  being such a pretty boy too!" I nod at Ryan, muttering,
"Ask my barber about my  haircut,?" and Parker laughs out loud, "He did that
fucked-up haircut? And  you're still friends?" Ryan glares at the guy, then
puts his arm around the back of my neck hugging me against him,  saying
defiantly, "Yeah, we're still friends. Dylan's my boyfriend as a matter  of fact,
and he asked you a question. What does DOB stand for." Parker eyes  light
up, "You boys are gay! Whooee, and you got the balls to come right out and
tell that to a total stranger?" I go, "Yeah, so what? And what the fuck does
DOB  mean?" He goes, "Oh, that. Yeah, it stands for dykes on bikes. DOB,
dykes on  bikes, motorcycles actually. Um, do you boys fuck and suck each
other, and shit  like that?" Ryan and I give him a flat-eyed look, and he says,
"No offense  intended, none at all. I like gays and I'm a little gay myself,
at times anyway.  Hey, you two want a couple of beers? I got a small keg
thing in the refrigerator  at my place, or we got pop too, soda pop." Together
Ryan and I say, "No thanks,  we're, um..." and Ryan stops talking, so I
finish with, "Gonna get something to  eat at Burger King , but thanks for the
offer."

Parker puts his Red Bull cap  on, brushes his yellow bangs off his eyes
again, and goes into his pocket  bringing his hand out with a couple of small
candy bars. Holding the candy  towards us, "These here are pecan chocolate
bars my Daddy's company makes. Help  yourself if y'all like chocolate and
pecans." He pronounced pecan as 'pik-ons'.  We shake our heads as we take a step
back, "Um, no thanks, Parker. Heh heh,  don't wanna ruin our dinner." He
shrugs and rips open the wrapper on one of the  little bars and plops the
candy in his mouth. His very white top middle teeth  have a space between them
making him look like a young boy when he grins. I  don't sense anything
especially dangerous about Parker, and I'm not sure if he's  an oddball or just
representative of a good ol' boy from  W Virginia. I'm about to say, 'Nice to
have met ya, Parker," and walk  away when out of Burger King pours a stream
of DOBs, half of them not looking much like  any woman I'm familiar with.
They're loud and boisterous and big and all dressed  like men, some with
leather chaps over their black jeans. Lots of vests and  leather motorcycle
boots and black leather jackets with many zippers, silver  chains, and studs.
Some of them light up cigarettes and others light  up joints. We can smell the
pot right away. They're sitting on their  motorcycles or standing in groups
talking and laughing loudly. It's obvious  they aren't going anywhere
anytime soon, so I'm not real interested in food  all of a sudden. I can see
tattoos and piercing's on many of them from here, so  up close it must be a
freak show. A lot of them have the same patch on the  sleeve of their motorcycle
jackets. It's a skeleton hand giving the finger. That  must be their gang's
motto... fuck you, or go fuck yourself.  Whichever...


The three of us are gawking  at the scary group of big female types when an
extra large African American  biker at the edge of the group nearest us,
snaps her head around and bellows at  us, "What the fuck you three white-bread
crackers looking at? Get your skinny  asses down here where you can see us
up close!" and three other big woman walk  next to the big black lady.
Parker quietly says, "Un oh, why don't y'all  back away with me slowly." As he
casually takes a couple of steps back, I  look over at the Mini but it's right
across the street from the dykes  on bikes and there's maybe thirty-five of
them so forget the Mini for  now. Parker gets a hold of  Ryan's and my arms
pulling us with him as two of the dykes start laughing and  running towards
us fast, so we turn around and run our asses off following  Parker who's
giggling. Looking back at us, he yells, "You boys better run  faster than
that." He's already half a block ahead of us. Wow, those two dykes  are fast
too! I can hear Parker laughing as he runs,  although I don't get the joke.
Looking over my shoulder I see the dykes only ran  a half block chasing us off
and now they're walking back to the parking lot  slapping each other on the
back. I can hear them laughing at us too, so I slow  down to a walk. It's a
bit humiliating running away from women. Ryan stops  running too, and a full
block ahead of us Parker has stopped and he's  looking at us. When we get
to him he's got a big smile on  his face, saying, "Don't y'all tell anyone
you was scared off by a couple of fat  girls. Whooee, you the pussies, not
them," and he laughs some more as I ask,  "How do you know so much about the,
um, DOB motorcycle  gang?"

Three abreast we're walking  away from Burger King with Parker saying,
"It's a club, not a gang. The story  was in the newspaper that a lesbian
motorcycle club was coming through on their  way to Flow-ri-da. There's apparently
lots of DOB clubs across the US of A. The  paper said these clubs reject,
um, something like the norms of middle  America. Supposedly they're supporting
gay pride by heading up gay pride parades  and stuff like that. I say good
for them, but I'm surprised you queer boys  didn't know about the DOB
clubs." I say, "Easy on  the pejorative references to us gays." He goes, "I
already told  y'all I flunked out of college, so don't use big words around me or
you'll  make me look like a dumb hick." Ryan asks, "Did the paper say
anything about  that motorcycle gang being dangerous?" Parker says, "No, not like
the  Hell's Angels are supposedly dangerous." I go, "I guess there's
exceptions to  every rule." He goes, "What? Back there? Nah, they were just having
fun scaring  us off. They wouldn't have done anything." Ryan's like, "Oh
yeah, so why'd ya  run your ass off then?" Parker laughs, "Because I was having
a little fun with  you boys. The way your eyes got big when they started
running towards us gave me  the giggles." Ryan and me exchange 'looks' both of
us wishing we hadn't run  off like we did. Not our finest moment during the
trip to Marietta.


All of a sudden, I'm like,  "Wait a fucking second, where we going?" Ryan
shrugs, "Um, yeah, where're we  going, Parker?" He says, "I'm going home, and
like I said, you're welcome to  join me for some beers. It's only me and my
brother right now. Mommy and Daddy  are at a candy convention in Atlanta."
Mommy and Daddy? What the fuck? Ryan's  biting his bottom lip, thinking I
guess. Then he asks me, "Whaddaya think,  Dylan?" And he's suppose to be
in-charge? Oh well, he can't make up his mind, so  I ask, "How far's your place
from here, Parker?" He goes, "It's two more blocks  that way," and he points
to the right. I shrug, "Okay, lets see it," and we  continue walking. We're
in a middle class neighborhood, nothing unusual about  it. Two block further
on though we see a gated community of McMansions. I ask,  "You live in
there, Parker?" He goes, "Yep, my Daddy's candy company is big in  the South,
but that's not why we're rich." He keys in a code at the gate  for foot
traffic that's next to the much larger one for cars, and in we go. I'm  sorta
surprised we're heading for these big homes because Parker looks more like  a
poor boy rather than the son of a rich guy.


There's very little space  between these houses, but the houses are big and
all pretty much the same.  Everything looks new, like it was all built
within the last year. Parker  basically confirms that, saying, "We moved in
after the first of the year. Daddy  gave my brother and me our own section of
the house, like an apartment. We got  our own entrance, our own kitchen, our
own everything. They like us living  with them 'cause we're a close knit
family, ya know. My grandma  and grandpa live on the third floor, so we got
three generations  of Jeters under one roof." He's walking around the side of
his McMansions, then  keys in a code for the locked door at a side entrance,
saying, "My aunt and  uncle and cousins live six house down from ours." I
thought he was going to say  they lived on the second floor. We go inside and
it's like a miniature  arcade with four computer games like the ones you see
at an arcades on the  boardwalk, plus a pinball machine, two big flat screen
TVs on the walls, an  X-box one and a lot of other adult toys. All
modernistic furniture too  with lots of chrome and dark leather. I mean it's wicked
cool, but doesn't  go with Parker somehow. Ryan's like, "Dude, this place
rocks!" Parker says,  "Yeah, like I said Daddy and Mommy were determined to
have Lyle and me live with  them, so they gave us what we asked for. My bro
and I had an apartment downtown  that was pretty raunchy, but cool too. This
is better though." No shit,  Sherlock.


Out of the kitchen comes a  little older guy, Parker's brother I'm
guessing. He could be Parker's twin  except older. He also has a full beard, but his
is grown in, not stubble. He  look's very clean and neat though with a
short haircut almost identical to  Ryan's. In other words the opposite of
disheveled, dirty-fingernailed,  long-haired Parker. We get introduced to Lyle,
who's the nicest, softest spoken  guy you'd ever want to meet. Parker getting
us all a draft beer. He gets fancy  beer glasses out of their huge freezer,
then fills them with beer from a tap in  their ginormous refrigerator.
Lyle's a quiet talker, but verbose at the same  time. As we sit around this
living-room/game-room in space age chairs Lyle tells  us the story of his 'Daddy'
striking it rich. It was the mid-nineties during the dot-com boom. Before
that they we're  middle class folk getting by okay and happy enough. He says,
"Daddy's smart  though and recognized the potential profit in the dot-coms.
A lot of people  are smart, but not all smart people are rich. Daddy
refinanced our old house to  get cash and then invested it brilliantly, and then
got out before  the collapse of the dot-com bubble." Parker says, "If y'all
look up nouveau  rich in the dictionary you'll see a picture of our Daddy,"
and he and Lyle laugh  their asses off as Ryan and I grin wondering what's so
funny. Okay, the brothers  aren't exactly what we're used to, but they're
nice guys and very good hosts.  Lyle gets clean beer glasses out of the
freezer for our next beer, this time  dropping a shot glass of bourbon into each
drink before passing them around,  quietly saying, "Well boys, we're moving
up to bomb shots from now on." Oh fuck!  While Lyle was making our bomb
shots, Parker microwaved a large container of  chili the brothers made from
scratch this afternoon. He passes out bowls of  steaming chili with crusty
bread. Ryan and I glance at each other and then taste  the chili. It's spicy, but
maybe the best chili I've ever eaten. Better than  Wendy's by a country
mile, as I imagine Parker would say.


We all have seconds on  the chili and another bomb shot, then with the TV
tuned to an Atlanta Braves'  baseball game, we try out a couple of the
computer games, and it's like  we're at a free sports bar. Around ten-thirty two
more good ol' boys join  us, one is their cousin and the other a friend of
the cousin. They're good guys  too, maybe in their mid-twenties. Both of them
are smoking joints ten minutes  after they got here. We learn that Lyle's
twenty-four and Parker's twenty-one,  soon to be twenty-two. Both brothers
smoke Marlboros so after finishing our  chili, the four of us are smoking away.
The cousin, Barney, is a funny fucker  and he gets everyone laughing.
Things are going great and then  another cousin, a girl in her early twenties,
and her girlfriend  of the same age join the party. The girls do three shots
each, one right after  the other, to catch up. That was their explanation
anyway. Both girls are  flirting with me like mad until Teddy, who's Barney's
friend, comes over with  Barney and they talk the girls into dancing with
them. Ryan's playing a computer  game trying to beat Lyle's score and I'm
watching them until Parker  takes hold of my arm, leaning his head down, saying,
"I wanna show you  something, Dylan."


We go down the hall and into  a bedroom where Parker unnecessarily
explains, "This is my bedroom, Dylan." I  look around, and unlike Parker, this place
is clean and totally picked-up.  "Dude, you're one neat guy." He laughs,
"Nah, we have a maid come in everyday to  clean, change the sheets, and all
that. I'm sloppy." He plops down on another  space age type chair and flicks
on his flat screen TV, saying, "I got some good  porn." I can't help glancing
at his hands and those dirty fingernails. He  catches me looking, and holds
a hand up, saying, "I'm a gear head. I work at my  uncle's garage taking
engines apart. Love working with cars, trucks, and my  personal favorite,
Harley-Davidson motorcycles, but the grease gets into my skin  and under my
nails. Hey, by the way, dude, I'm getting a motorcycle for my  birthday, which
is coming up pretty soon. A big bad motherfucker of a motorcycle  and I can't
fuckin' wait." I go, "Huh," and glance at the TV where two men man  and a
women are fucking. Ugh! To be polite I watch a little of the  porn film with
him while gulping down my bomb beer, or whatever he called  it. Parker's
beer is only half gone when I finish mine, so I figure I'll  use getting
another beer as an excuse to exit the porn show. Both the men in the  movie are in
their late thirties with nineteen-eighties over-their-ears haircut,  and
they've got soft looking bodies, so nothing I'm interested in. I advert my
eyes when there's a close-up of the ladies private parts between her legs,  or
I guess for women it 'private part'... singular.


I tell Parker I'm getting a  beer and he stands up playing with himself,
saying, "I didn't expect you to be  interested in the movie, and actually I'm
not either. It was just something  to, ya know, get us onto the subject of
sex." I go, "Oh, um, you need a beer?"  He goes, "No, but wait a second," and
he comes over putting his arms around  me with the side of his face next to
mine and he kind of hugs me. His beard  is scratchy and sexy and he has an
odor like the outdoors, or motor oil, or  something like that, with just a
slight touch of BO as well. Very macho smell...  that's how I'd describe his
personal scent, plus his body's hard and muscular.  He quietly says, "Please
let me see what it's like fucking you, Dylan. You've  got the hottest ass and
you're better looking than anyone I've ever had sex  with. You smell good
too," and his face drags against my cheek until his lips  connect to mine and
he kisses me with his tongue in my mouth. I actually liked  Parker right
off when we met. He has an innocent confidence about him and now I  find out
he's very sexy too." After the kiss he gets a hand on my crotch and  massages
my dick, murmuring, "How 'bout it, Dylan? Nobody will know. Please."  His
mouth covers mine again, his eyes mischievously grinning at me. And  yes, you
can see a person grinning from the look in their eyes. Anyway,  I mumble
"I'm kinda surprised by this, Parker," He's like, "Oh, but  what'd ya expect?
You told me you were queer right off and you're so cute  straight boys
would wanna change sides to fuck you. Not that I'm all that  straight to start
with," and his hand rubs up the back of my head while his  other hand
continues massaging my stiffening cock... jeez-sus! Okay, Parker's at  least
bisexual, and probably leaning strongly towards the homosexual  side.


When I kiss back I know I'm going to do it with him, so I get into a hot
and heavy make-out with him, my  fingers in his long course yellow hair as our
tongues slide together. He holds  my face against his with a strong hand at
the& back of my head, our  noses bumping and our lips kissing and sucking.
Parker's other hand  unbuttons my khakis and he gets his hand inside my
underwear with his fist going  around my cock. He's slowly stroking it as we
continues making-out, then he  says, "Oh, you shave your pubic hairs. That's so
fucking queer of you, but I  like it." I'm a goner by now, leaning against
him with a moan slipping out of my  throat. He lets go of my pecker and
pulls my pants down past my ass,  breathlessly murmuring, "Just stand right
there, okay? Just for a second." He  open his jeans and pulls out a big boner
about the size of Ryan's, except a  little fatter. After roughly turning me
around, he smacks my ass hard, "Smack!"  and I yelp, so Parker considerately
rubs my smacked butt cheek a few seconds,  then pushes his finger up my ass
and pulls upwards and I go up on my  toes. It occurs to me that Parker and I
were making eye contact earlier tonight.  I was doing it unconsciously and
he obviously took it as an invitation. I'm glad  he did. The eye contact was
because I like looking at him. He's really quite the  macho sexy guy, even
if he is a bit of a goober. I'm really getting off on  his take-charge
dominance though, but no way is this his first rodeo. The finger  up my ass rubs
my prostate and oh god, my cock is so hard It's  trembling.


He's nestling the side of  his face against mine again as he roughly finger
fucks me with one of  his dirty-fingernail fingers. His scratchy beard is
awesome, as he murmurs,  "You're liking this, aint'cha, Dylan. You're a hot
sexy boy alright and you like  it rough too, huh?" I'm sucking on my lips
afraid I'm going to shoot off  before he even gets his boner up my ass. Parker
again asks, "Don'cha like it  rough, Dylan?" I nod my head, deep in sexual
heat, managing only to mutter, "Uh  huh," followed by a long low moan of
arousal with me clutching his body against  mine. His cheek scrapes against mine
again as he bites my ear sending chills up  my spine. Now his tongue's in
my ear all squishy and warm as he's moaning with  arousal himself now. His
finger comes out of my ass and I feel the wet head of  his cock at my asshole.
He humps it in painfully while rubbing the side of  his face against mine,
murmuring, "God, you're pretty," and his hand rubs across  the top of my
head pulling my head back against his shoulder as he grunts  and shoves his
boner in another two or three inches with my back arching and me  groaning
going up on my toes again. Parker kisses the side of my face leaving  saliva
there as he grunts and lifts me back up on my toes again cramming his  cock the
rest of the way up my ass. Gasping sounds coming from Parker as he's
humping roughly against my buttocks. The pain's insignificant compared to the
overwhelming sexual sensations I'm feeling, masking the hurt in my rectum.  I
inhale his scent then let out sort of a whiny moan with my cock hard as wood
 sticking straight out six full inches. My boner's so tight it barely move
as  Parker again humps his hips hard against my buttocks and lifts his hips
up, and  up I go on my toes one more time, moaning and laying back against
his chest  limply. I'm totally under Parker's control and so aroused by that
fact it's like  sexual ecstasy for me.

Parker jammed his huge boner  up my ass and humped against my buttocks a
half dozen times, but he's yet to  pull that boner of his back and actually
fuck me. He swings me around, his  boner's fully up my ass, and we stiffly
walks five steps to his desk. He  puts some pressure on the back of my head
which tells me to bend forward at my  waist and support myself with my hands on
the desk. He lets out a long  exhale, smacks my ass casually, but hard a
few time, "SMACK!   SMACK!  SMACK!" and I hump my hips whining and almost cum.
Instead a  long drool of precum  drops down to 'Splat' on the hardwood
floor. Grabbing  both my hips Parker begins fucking me with lots of grunts and
moans from him. He  really gets into it now fucking me steadily at a fairly
fast pace. I'm gulping  with my head back as he tightly slides his big boner
back and forth in my ass.  He bangs into my buttocks hard with every thrust
up my ass and I'm flopping  around with my hard cock hitting the top of the
desk with every hard drive up my  ass. So many delicious sexual sensations
to taste, but way too many to keep  track of or know exactly where they're
coming from... my prostate, my anus,  or my throbbing cock and hardening nuts.
It's three minutes of pure sexual  pleasure before I squeal while shooting
a sharp stream of cum straight at the  poster of a race driver on the wall
behind his desk. My cum hits, splatters, and  drools down the face of whoever
the race driver is. Somewhere from outer space I  hear Parker giggling,
probably at my squeal as my back's arching again and  I do a lesser squeal with
my cock shooting out three more little sprays of cum  and then I'm done as
I shake and shudder. Hanging my head between my arms, my  body feels squirmy
as after affects of my orgasm dance around here and there  before fading
away.


That climax felt so fucking good, but so does Parkers  cock that's still
sliding very tightly in my rectum. Not for long though. I  climaxed within
three minutes tops, Parker only last twenty seconds longer  and with his groin
tight against my ass and him doing desperate  very hard humps against my
butt cheeks he unloads a long stream of cum  inside my bowels, then another
hump with a whimpering moan from Parker as more  cum shoots inside me. He gasps
and does another hump, then another before  letting go of my hips and
stepping back pulling his cock out. Lots of his spunk  immediately runs out of my
asshole and down the back of my legs. I reach back  with both hands to stop
the cum before it hits my underpants. Then I feel a soft  cloth on the back
of my legs. It's Parker using his handkerchief wiping the cum  off my legs.
He takes a deep breath, then says, "Come in the bathroom with me,  Dylan,
and I'll get the rest off with a washcloth." I follow him as he's saying,
"Man, I'm was so fucking aroused I didn't put a condom on first," and his  arm
goes across my shoulder, "I forgot the condom, and I never forget a condom.
 I'm really sorry." He's very friendly and relaxed about all this. It's
like we  just finished a computer game together, or changed a flat tire
together, or  something ordinary. He gets a washcloth, wets it a little and does a
great  job of cleaning his cum off me while chuckling, "You don't say much,
do you?" I  shrug, "Um, Parker, it's like I'm kinda speechless. I mean you
totally took me  by surprise, dude. Nice recreational fuck though." He nods
his head, "Yeah, it  was better than 'nice' for me. I thought my balls were
coming up through my dick  when I climaxed. Hope we can do it again a little
later, but for now lets rejoin  the party, " and he pulls my pants up and
pats my ass, "That's quite an ass  ya got there, Dylan."

As we're walking back down  the hall, he asks, "Will this be a problem as
far as your boyfriend goes?" I  say, "Ryan? He's actually not my boyfriend,
but lets keep it between you and me  anyway, okay?" Parker mutters, "That
works for me," and he puts his arm across  my shoulders again giving me a
squeeze. In the living room everyone is as they  were when we left nine or ten
minutes ago. Ryan's not even looking at us, as he  yells, "Victory," so I
guess he beat Lyle at whatever game they were playing,  but he sounds drunk.
Bourbon shots in your beer will do it every time. Parker,  cool as ice, like
nothing out of the ordinary happened, makes new bomb  shots for us and we lean
against the wall smoking, drinking, and watching Lyle's  and Ryan's rematch
race on one of the computer games involving racing cars.  On the sofa the
male cousin and one of the girls are making out hot and heavy  with no one
paying any attention to them, and I don't see the other  guy and girl. I ask
Parker, "Is it like this every night here?" He shrugs,  "Not every night, no.
Sometimes it's just three or four of us watching  something sports related
on the TV. Then sometimes it's a lot wilder, but we  mostly keep the
craziness inside so we don't get the neighbors pissed-off. When  Mommy and Daddy
are here we tone it down out of respect for them, but they  travel a lot." I'm
trying not to react to him saying, 'Mommy' and 'Daddy'  with a straight
face? I mean he's not four years old.






The dirty glasses are  piling up on the kitchen table because every time
someone gets another  drink they use a new glass from the big freezer. Parker
and I finish our drinks,  and now Ryan's not the only one drunk, plus the
pot smoke is a haze drifting  around the room like a cloud getting me high on
all that secondhand smoke. We're  drinking in sort of a haze and later
Barney, Teddy, Lyle, and Ryan, who's  wearing somebody's Red Bull Racing cap now,
maybe Parker's 'cause he's not  wearing it, are all playing a computer game
with the two girls cheering them on.  Parker blinks his eyes a few times,
mumbling, "Fucking smoky in here," and we go  outside for some fresh air. I
stumble on something and would have fallen on my  face if Parker hadn't
grabbed me first. I mumble, "Dude, I'm drunk," and he  goes, "Me too, or maybe
I'm high and drunk. Did ya see the smoke cloud in  there?" I nod and take a
gulp of whiskey, which is what the beer taste like with  a shot in it. Parker
leads me around the side of their big house where there's a  beautiful
lighted patio with flowering shrubbery all around it. Very cool except  the back
of someone else's Mc Mansion is a mere twenty feet away. I go,  "They built
these kinda close together, huh?" He says, "Yeah," and he points to  the
house I'm looking at, "We hate the assholes in that house. Got in a fist  fight
with their kid like the third week we were here." He tells me a long
meandering story about the reason for the fight, and then an even  longer
harangue about motorcycle engines using esoteric mechanic  language until I have
not the slightest clue what he's talking about. I keep  looking at him as he
talks though, to be polite and because he's sexy looking.  That scratchy
beard of his is on my mind a little bit too. The memory  of his whiskers against
my face, and his sort of raunchy scent are  lingering in my brain.


We're still out here long  after our bomb shots are finished, and thank god
he doesn't get the urge  for another one. When he finally stops talking we
look at each other in silence  for a minute or so in kind of a trance, then
he slowly gets up to crouch  next to my chair and we make-out with his beard
against my face as sexy as it  was the first time I felt it. He's goosing
my junk, his tongue in my mouth, my  hand in his long yellow hair, and it's
really a sexy hot time! With our mouths  together he sort of lifts me up with
a hand under each of my armpits and  gets my pants down just like he did in
his bedroom. This time he leans me down  with my hands on the seat of the
chair and fucks me for at least ten minutes  slowly until tears run down my
cheeks at how incredibly awesome this sex is for  me. The newness of him, and
the sexy macho way about him, and his smell and that  long yellow hair I'd
love to cut. Those things, plus his big cock and his  attitude that
seemingly indicates this is the most normal thing to do with  someone you've know
for all of three hours, the most normal thing in the world.  Like lending a
stranger your cell phone so they can make a quick call to get  road service to
give a jump to their dead battery. Yeah, a routine fuck or lend  a
cellphone, what's the difference? Then after the fuck, 'That was cool,  but hot too.
Ha ha, hey, ya want another beer?' Like that.


My climax isn't very big  in volume, but I thought I'd pass out at how
sexy-hot it felt flying out my  dick. Then Parker's wiping his cum off my ass
again using the clean handkerchief  he got from his bureau after using the
first one for the same purpose. While  cleaning his cum off my ass he's telling
me about the Harley Davidson he's  already picked out for his birthday
present from Mommy and Daddy. It's like our  fuck together is so normal it's
hardly worth mentioning. Needless to say, with  Ryan fucking me with his large
cock my ass got a little sore and now after two  hard fucks from Parker I'm
walking funny again and it hurts sitting down. Was it  worth it? Definitely!
 With my pants up and buttoned and his big cock put  away, Parker sees me
wince sitting down and he gets a pillow off another chair  and puts it under
me, then he sits down and continues telling me what he started  telling me
before fucking me, "Like I was saying, Lyle works at the candy  factory with
Daddy and they both want me to work there too, but I'm a gear head,  dude."
He already told me all this earlier so I guess he's as drunk as I am, and
being drunk myself I tell him, "Dude, you need a fucking haircut." He  runs
his fingers through his hair, asking, "Do I?" I go, "Get serious, you know
it. Ya got a pair of scissors?" He's like, "Yeah, a'course I've got scissors,
 but I'm not letting your friend get near my hair after seeing the haircut
he  gave you," and he laughs pointing at my head, then adds, "No fucking
way,  amigo." I frown, "Not him, me. Go get the scissors." He goes, "Oh, you
know how  to cut hair? Um, yeah okay, but you come with me."


We go inside where there's  an ongoing group discussion about the DOBs with
one of the girls saying,  "There's a Dyke, Virginia. Seriously, that the
name of the town." Someone who  must have come in when we were out back,
because I know I haven't seen him  before, says, "Well those bitches like the sub
culture life obviously. Did ya  read that article in the paper yesterday?
It said..." I stop listening because  there's Ryan asleep in one of the space
age chairs. He  looks comfortable enough, so that's good at least. Parker
and I go into the  kitchen where the used beer glasses are piled higher now.
I sure hope the maid  gets paid well. Lyle yells from the living room,
"What's up, Parker?" He yells  back, "Dylan's giving me a haircut," and I can
just barely hear a girl says,  "Somebody needs to, that for sure." Then the new
guy asks, "Who's Dylan?" Parker  rustles around in one of the drawers under
the granite counter top and comes up  with a pair of scissors that
definitely aren't barber scissors, but they look  sharp. He sits in a chair saying,
"Some off the top and short on the sides." It  makes me laugh and he laughs
too, then jumps up and gets frozen beer  glasses from the freezer and fills
then with beer from the mini keg in the  refrigerator, as I go, "No bomb
shot for me, Parker." He goes, "Okay," and sits  down again. "Ya got a comb,
Parker?" He pulls a pocket comb from his pocket,  where else would it be, and
hands it to me. I comb through his course long  yellow bangs. Combed
straight down the hair reaches his mouth. I cut, 'Scrunch',  'Scrunch' through all
that yellow hair just above his eyebrows and four inches  of hair falls into
his lap. He mutters, "Good," and for the next ten minutes I  have lots of
fun giving him a short haircut and doing a remarkably good job of  it consi
dering I'm drunk. Hopefully when sober it'll still look as good as it  does to
me now.


When I'm done, his haircut  looks almost like his brother's. He gets a
dustpan and brush from a closet and  we brush most of the long yellow hair off
the floor and dump it in the  trash. Parker mumbles, "Anita can get the rest
tomorrow," and we walk back into  the living room where everyone cheers as
Parker raises his arms like he just won  a race or something. I get lots of
pats on the back and overly enthusiastic  accolades for Parker's haircut. I'm
feeling really good tonight as I gently sit  down on the cushioned sofa.
Parker fucked my ass raw and it's very tender so  something soft is kinda
mandatory for sitting. I'm curious, "Um, anyone know  what knocked out my
friend, Ryan. He's down for the count in that chair over  there?" They all look at
Ryan sleeping in the chair like they didn't know he was  here. Everyone's
so high they probably don't know they're here either. One  of the girls says,
"Oh yeah, I think he was taking too many hits off the bong  pipe when we
fired that fucker up, and a couple minutes later he crashed. He was  drunk
too, of course." I see the bong pipe for the first time. It sort of  blends in
with everything else in here. Parker sits next to me on the sofa and  puts
his arm across my shoulders sort of pulling me over against him,  saying into
my ear, "Since your boyfriend's out of commission, I'll be your  boyfriend
for the night," and I go, "He's not my boyfriend, I already told ya  that,"
and Barney in a sing-song voice, says, "Parker's got a new boyfriend,"  and
Lyle quietly says, "I hope Dean doesn't fuckin' hear about this."  Parker
yells, "To hell with Dean! He had his chance," and they  start reminiscing
about all of Parker's conquests, which consists of guys  only. In my foggy
brain I realize Parker isn't bisexual, he's gay. Whatever, it  feels good
pressed against his body and I nestle in against him with him  leaning down so his
beard scratches my cheek again, whispering in my ear,  "You'll sleep with
me tonight and maybe we'll do it again. You suck cock right?"  I do the fast
head nod and he squeezes me, whispering, "Damn, I wanna keep  you."


Another round of bomb shots  for everyone but Ryan. They're finally out of
fresh glasses so they use random  used glasses from the table without
washing them first. Drinking a drink I  don't like or want, my head in a fog as I
listen to the group recounting some of  the parties they've had here,
mentioning names of guys and girls who aren't here  tonight. I laugh along with
everyone even though I don't know what they're  talking about. Booze and pot
in excess has that effect on me. One of  the cousins tells a few outlandish
stories of experiences they've had  together before moving here. By now I'm
almost laying on Parker. His arm's  around me as he absently rubs the back of
his finger against the  sandpaper-feeling hair on the back of my head. My
head lulls forward and I  almost fall asleep, both drunk and high from the
second hand smoke and the totes  off the joint that keeps getting passed
around. When it gets to Parker he holds  it over for me to take a hit on, then he
takes one before passing it on. After  awhile he quietly says, "Here,
Dylan, put you head on my lap, you're busted." He  helps me adjust my position so
I'm laying on the sofa, my feet on the arm of the  sofa and my head in his
lap. He rubs my head as he tells the story he told me  about the fight he
had with the neighbor living in back of them... I drift off  to sleep before
the end of it.


When I wake-up I'm in bed  with Parker as naked as he is with no
recollection of how or when I got  here. I'm partially sleeping on him, my head on his
chest and his arm over my  shoulder. He smells like he did last night,
which is sexy and macho and a little  like an auto repair shop smells with a
little stronger scent of BO now that  he's naked. His scent is giving me a
boner. Moving my head I look at his face  and he looks different. Then I
remember giving him a haircut last night. It  still looks good from here, but I can
see some small hair clippings on his chest  and the shoulder I'm not laying
on. This is so randomly cool I put my arm  across his chest and give a
little hug, but he's really out of it. I've no idea  what time we went to bed,
or where Ryan is. My bare leg rubs against  Parkers and I feel how hairy his
leg is and get a raging boner. Rubbing my foot  all along his leg, from his
knee to his foot, and oh god that's so sexy. I  glance at his chest, but I
already know there's not a hair on it. Too  bad.


After laying awake for quite  awhile the pressing need I noticed when I
woke up gets the better of me, and  I've simply gotta take a piss now or I'm
gonna piss the bed. Lifting his arm off  me and gently laying it next to him,
I slide out of bed. After pulling on my  boxer shorts I tiptoe out of the
bedroom and down the hall to the living room.  The place is a mess, but it's
very quiet, not a sound to be heard. There's also  no one's sleeping in here,
so where's Ryan? And more importantly where's a  bathroom? Parker and I
pissed outside last night but I must have used a bathroom  in here too. Can't
remember though. Okay, the kitchen and hallway are to  the left of the living
room so I'll go to the right. There's a short hall and  then another
bedroom with the door open. I peek in and see Lyle in bed and Ryan,  fully
dressed, sleeping on a pullout bed Lyle must have set-up for him. That's  so nice
of him! There's an open door in Lyle's bedroom that I can see leads to a
bathroom, so there's probably one in Parker's room too. Fuck! After tiptoeing
back to Parker's bedroom I try the door I thought was a closet. It opens to
a  short hall, like in Lyle's bedroom, with the bathroom at the end and a
door  on either side that's probably closets. In the bathroom I'm like, 'Oh
man!  This piss feels so good!'. Then I close the door and take a crap. My ass
is  still sore, but totally manageable. Washing my hands and face I look in
 the mirror at my bloodshot eyes and realize I've got a pounding hangover
and my mouth taste like a bird's nest. Grabbing a bottle of mouthwash I
gargle  and then see toothpaste so I brush my teeth using my finger as a
toothbrush, then gargle again. My head's pounding like a drum now. I guess my
need for a piss overrode the headache getting all my attention, but now I sure
notice it. There's Advil in the medicine cabinet so I take a couple with my
hand  cupping some water that I sip. One of the Advil goes down, but the
other  one is caught in my throat so another cupped hand of water and I'm all
better.  Yeah, except I'm dizzy and unsteady, and my head is still pounding.
I hear,  "Dylan, come back to bed, it's only seven o'clock." Hmmm...


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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