Date: Fri, 14 Aug 2015 10:55:38 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION Chapter  7

DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION


Chapter  7


By  Donny Mumford



It's one-thirty Saturday afternoon and Ryan's driving us to  downtown
Marietta in the Mini Cooper to pick up my dry cleaning. Right after we  do that
we're going to the plant for a training session Ryan needs to attend,  and
later I'll meet my co-workers. At a red light, I ask, "Are you nervous about
being the boss of six guys, five of whom you don't know?" He looks at me,
"What  do you think?" and I go, "I'd be nervous," Ryan says, "Double the
amount of  nervousness you think you'd have and that's probably right around how
nervous I  am, but I'm going to fake being confident." "Good luck, Albert,
and you can  count on me being supportive." He pats my leg, "Thanks." While
Ryan sits in the  idling car in a 'no parking' zone, I run into the dry
cleaners for my stuff.  Amazingly all of it's ready on time, so I pay with my
debit card leaving me with  under one hundred dollars in that account. I was
rich last September and now I'm  almost broke. I lay the cleaned and pressed
clothing in the back seat, partially  on my duffle bag that's laying on the
floor back there. "Seatbelt, Daniel," and  we're off with me smirking at my
new name. I go, "Can't you call me Dylan  outside the house?" He shakes his
head, "I need to be consistent or I'll fuck up  putting mother in a bad mood.
By the way, I had no idea my mother was going to  do that name thing. It
pissed me off, but you handled it so fucking good I let  it slide. Thanks for
that, babe, really!" I shrug, and fifteen minutes later,  for the second
time today, we're at the Lockheed-Martin Aerospace  facility.


After showing our IDs at the guard house Ryan drives down and  parks around
the back of this large plant. We get out of the car looking around  seeing
maybe two dozen other cars, so somebody's working on Saturday. Inside we
show our IDs again with Ryan asking the guard where the Equipment Verification
 Unit is located. The guard, a large African American man, frowns, "Say
what?  Equipment what?" Ryan says, "It's a new unit for the AD-607 project."
The guard  goes on the computer muttering, "I'm always the last one to know
about shit like  this. What was that project number again?" Ryan tells him and
he goes, "Oh  yeah," and looks up at Ryan, skeptically asking, "You're
Albert Wilcox? The  supervisor?" like he can hardly believe it. Ryan adjust his
eyeglasses nodding  his head and holding up his ID again. The guard stands
up and bending forward to  look at Ryan's ID, closely this time, then says,
"Yeah, you're Albert Wilcox.  Okay, ya wanna go through those door to the end
of this hall and take your first  left, then it'll be straight ahead. That
space used to be the main storage area,  but it's been totally converted for
you." Well, not really for Ryan, but he nods  his head at the guard again
and looks important. Ha ha.


As soon as we make the left turn a man is walking towards us  asking,
"Wilcox?" Ryan says, "Yes, sir. I'm Albert Wilcox," and the man holds  out his
hand, saying, "Nice to meet you, I'm Josh Day. I admire your father,  he's a
pioneer in this field." Ryan says, "Thank you," and nods at me, "This is
Daniel Newman, one of my crew. He, um, thought he was suppose to be here at two
 o'clock." Throwing me under the bus again, huh Albert? Josh shakes my hand
, "No,  not two o'clock, Danny, the crew checks in for about  ten minutes at
 five-thirty for a quick meeting with me and Albert. Sorry but you'll need
to  leave the facility and come back then. Where'd you ever get the idea you
were  suppose to be here at two?" I look at Ryan, then Josh, "Um, I don't
know, I'll  come back at five-thirty." Josh's cellphone rings and he answers
it turning his  back. Ryan quietly says, "Sorry, but I did try to talk you
out of coming with  me. I wanna get off on the right foot with this guy so
don't say anything,  okay?" I go, "Yeah, sure," and Ryan's like, "Here's the
key to the Mini." I nod  my head, and Ryan's boss  says,   "Albert, walk your
boy out  and I'll meet you through that door right there," as he points to
the door at  the end of the corridor. I mumble,  "Nice meeting you, Mr.
Day." He goes, "It's just Josh, see you at five-thirty,  and ah, paying
attention to details is vital for what you'll be working on, so  you're off to a
poor start, Danny." He turns around and  walks away. I stand here a second
looking at the guy's back, then at Ryan, who  shrugs, "Forget him, I'm your
boss... come on."


Walking back the way we came, Ryan goes, "Gee, I wonder how he  knew you're
my boy," and he squeezes the back of my neck to show he's teasing. I  go,
"I am your boy, Albert, and now Josh must think your boy's an idiot." He
mumbles, "This is all new, Daniel, we'll have a few missteps at first, but so
what?" At the main entrance for this back half of the building Ryan pats my
shoulder, "See you later," and I nod at him, then walk outside. Okay, Ryan
was  right earlier when he suggested I not come with him at two o'clock, and
I don't  care what Josh thinks. I'll drive around and kill some time or
something like  Ryan suggested in the first place. What was I thinking? I was
going to sit in a  reception area for three and a half hours, really? As I'm
starting the Mini I  try remembering how to get from here to his house so I
can drop off the dry  cleaning, and then I don't know what I'll do after
that. It's a nice sunny day  with the temperature in the low eighties, but I
don't dare put the top down or  some of my clothes might blow out the back.
The air conditioner makes more sense  and I switch it on as I drive up and out
of the Lockheed-Martin complex. Then,  driving back to Ryan's house is
easier than I expected. Parking the Mini where  Ryan parks, I get my dry
cleaning from the back seat and go in through the side  door. The house is eerily
silent, just the ambient hush of the air conditioner,  and quiet ticking of
the grandfather clock in the foyer. As quietly as I can, I  go through the
kitchen and dining room to the large foyer, then up the carpeted  steps to the
second floor and down the hall to the narrower stairs leading to  the third
floor. Safely in my room I plop down in one of the two armchairs with  all
my plastic covered dry cleaning in my lap. I feel odd. It's very
uncomfortable being in this house without Ryan, and not all that comfortable  with
him. This kinda blows.


Sitting here smelling the back of my hand I'm wondering for  the umpteenth
time why I got myself into this mess. Ryan's been great, but I'm  homesick
and feel every bit the stranger that I actually am. Finally I sigh and  get
up to take the plastic bags off the dry cleaning and hang each item in the
big double door closet. Aimlessly walking around the bedroom touching
everything  I'm thinking of all the days Ryan's probably wondered around this house
feeling  lonely. Then I look out one of the dormer windows and it's a long
way down to  the driveway. The oblong manicured garden area in front with
the driveway  encircling it is very pretty. From up here I can see that the
flag stone paths  through the shrubbery and flowering plants forms the letter
'H'. Huh, well that  was swell, now what do I do? Hmmm, I'll email people
back home, but first I need  to get my laptop and it's in the duffle bag on
the floor of the Mini. Creeping  back down both staircases, I'm almost to the
kitchen when Mr. Wilcox comes out  of the library off the foyer. He's
talking on his cellphone, but lifts his head  holding a finger up to me, like...
wait! I stop as he ends his call, then, "Ah,  Daniel, are you busy?" I shake my
head, muttering, "No, sir, I was just getting  my, um, stuff from the car.
Albert's at..." He says, "Yes, I know where he's at.  If you've got the time
I'm sure you'll want to help him out, am I right?"I say,  "Yes, sir," with a
question mark inferred by the way I said that. He goes,  "Well, it's
Saturdays and you boys need to cut the lawn in front of the house  each Saturday
morning, but today was an unusual day so the lawn's been  neglected. The
landscapers take care of the gardens and the lawn plots in back,  but..." I ask,
"Would you like me to do the lawn?" He says, "Yes, that's it  exactly.
Albert's very conscientious about his chores so he'll be relieved  you've covered
for him today."


He puts his hand on my shoulder and sort of walks me to the  kitchen,
asking, "Did you notice the supply building out back?" I'm like,  "Supply
building, um...?" He says, "Yes, the gray one with a copper weathervane on  the
roof." I'm thinking, 'Oh, that's a storage shed? It looks like a little  house'.
I'm like, "Yes, sir," and he goes, "There a ride-on mower in there. Use  it
for the front lawn. Have you ever used a ride-on mower?" "Yes, I worked all
last summer for a landscaping crew." He pats my back, "Good for you! Well,
there  we are then, get to it." Another pat on my back as I mutter, "Yes,
sir," and  continue out the side door as he opens the refrigerator. Guess he's
fixing  himself something for a late lunch. I've no idea where nutty Mrs.
Wilcox is, but  oh well, this is something worthwhile doing and it'll be a
surprise for Ryan. In  the shed there's a rather nice ride-on mower that
starts right up. I turn it off  to check for oil and gas. Both are low, but
everything is here: the oil cans are  on a shelf and a five gallon fire-proof gas
can is full. After filling the mower  tank with gas and oil I drive the
mower around to the front and begin cutting a  pattern in the lawn. Cutting the
grass one way pulls the unclipped grass in one  direction and coming back
right next to the preceding cut pulls the uncut grass  in the other
direction. It makes the grass cut in one direction appear a  different shade of green
from the cut going in the opposite direction. This is a  big lawn, but not
the biggest one I worked on last year, not even  close.


Concentrating on maintaining perfectly straight cuts keeps it  from being a
totally boring endeavor, and I want it to look good. The  temperature's
pleasant and I can feel the sun on my face so hopefully I'll get  some color,
maybe a bit of a sunburned nose like I always get the first day at  the shore
during our Wildwood vacations. It takes just over an hour to finish  the
lawn. There's no need to bag grass clipping like a professional landscaping
crew would do because the grass is mulched by the mower's blades on this
machine. A homeowner's short cut, but the lawn looks good! After putting the
mower away I feel good too, like I contributed to the Wilcox household and
I'm  not just a mooch. Grabbing my duffle bag finally, I carry it through the
kitchen  not feeling quite the outsider I felt like an hour and a half ago.
In my  bathroom I strip and shower, taking my time. By the time I'm showered
and  dressed it's four-fifteen, so I've got an hour before I should head
back to the  plant. Feeling okay about things I email Chubby, mom, and Robby.
Mostly I  mention how much I miss them, but I'm doing okay. In retrospect
the emails  probably got a little maudlin at the end, but that's how I'm
feeling.

Driving back to Lockheed I tell myself that things we'll be  more relaxing
in a week or so when I get in a routine and feel more comfortable  with
everything, which I don't feel at all presently. My ID card on the lanyard
around my neck gets me past both guards and then I'm walking towards the door
marked 'Equipment Verification Unit' thinking that's a weird name. Entering
the  room there's a counter straight ahead near the back wall, and a door
behind  that. On the counter are a telephone and a Dell computer, and against
the wall  to my right are lockers and another door that's probably a coat
room. On my left  are two rows of five chairs each. In one of the chairs an
African American guy  sits with his legs stretched out in front of him with his
ankles crossed. He's  texting with his thumbs as his eyes look up for a
glance at me, then back to his  texting. This guy's wearing baggy shorts and a
baggier t-shirt with what looks  like a brand new pair of Nike Kobe IX high
sneakers on his feet. They're neon  green surrounded by a black outline and
a gold swoosh in the green. Probably  cost two hundred dollars. Corn row
hairdo, but I'm mostly staring at his  hairless face because this dude is cute
with a capital 'C'. No, he's more like  pretty than cute, but in an all-boy
way with implied arrogance from his posture.  Creamy light brown complexion
with full very pink lips.  Without looking up  he asks, "What the fuck you
looking at, snow flake?" I blush turning away,  mumbling, "Not you, that's
for sure." Okay, that was a lame come back by me. I  wander over to the
counter feeling a little intimidated. Enough so that sitting  down in one of the
chairs is out of the question. Bad start. My back's to the  counter with my
elbows resting on it, trying for cool.


Obviously this guy's got a chip on his shoulder. Glancing at  him from the
corner of my eye I'm guessing he's about an inch taller than me and  he
probably weighs less than me, but I can't tell how old he is. Early twenties  at
the oldest, but damn he's good looking. He's thin, as in almost skinny so I
 hope he's up for the heavy lifting. Then through the door comes a kid who
appears to be about fifteen years old. He looks around nervously, asking
me,  "Are you Mr. Albert Wilcox?" I shake my head 'no', then push off from the
 counter, saying, "I'm Dy, um, Daniel Newman." He bumps fists with me,
muttering,  "Sam Workman, you waiting to meet the boss?" I nod, "Yeah, but we're
early. It's  like twenty after five." Sam is an two inches shorter than me
and he doesn't  look very strong either. I guess he was hired by Josh, so
maybe the heavy  lifting has been exaggerated, assuming Josh knows what he's
doing. I noticed  earlier that Josh looks strong enough for all of us, but so
far counting Ryan,  me, Sam, and Mr. Surly over there still texting, we
aren't lifting anything over  sixty pounds. Sam is a blond headed  kid with a
neglected, too long flat  top, or whatever it's suppose to be. He's got a too
wide mouth with thin lips  and a flat nose that looks like it's been broken
a few times, and altogether  he's not registering on the cute-o-meter in my
brain. Doesn't mean he's not a  good kid though. He seems humble and more
than a little bit shy. If it were  possible to average-out Sam and Mr. Surly
we'd have two normal run-of-the-mill  young guys. I ask, "How old are you,
Sam, if you don't mind me asking?" He goes,  "Nineteen, and I know I look
younger." Standing there he sort of jitters without  actually moving. I ask,
"Did you interview for this job with Josh Day?" He  shakes his head, "Nah, I'm
a temporary transfer from another department. I've  never met either Mr.
Day or the supervisor, Albert Wilcox." I guess it's not  common knowledge that
Albert's the son of the top man at this facility and I  respect that.


Sam walks over and sits in the end chair glancing at Mr.  Surly, but
doesn't saying anything. Then in comes the muscle. Two more African  American guys
in their twenties, both smiling and both about five foot eight or  nine
inches tall, but real muscular, and one of them has very long arms. That's
probably the first thing you'd notice about him. Long arms looks at me, asking,
 "Albert?" I shake my head introducing myself with a fist bump, as he says,
 "Jayden Smith, nice ta meet ya. This here's my little brother, Stinky."
Stinky  says, "It's Aiden, not Stinky, was sup, Danny?" I bump fists mumbling,
"Not  much," and they look around, then sit in the back row of chair with
Stinky  saying, "Yo bro," as he walks past Mr. Surly. Without looking up,
surly says, "I  ain't your brother," and continues texting as the brothers
frown at him.  I'm the only one standing and it'd be awkward now to walk over
and sit, so  I go back to my original plan of leaning against the counter
trying to look like  everything's cool with me. Huh, three black dudes, a white
kid who looks  fifteen, and me. Some crew Ryan's got going for him, but one
is still missing,  and then he's not. Another African American comes through
the door looking at  me, then the guys sitting, and asks, "Who's Albert?"
Again I shake my head, then  introduce myself and he holds his hand out to
shake, mumbling, "Aaron Black, how  ya doing." Aaron is maybe fifty years old
with graying hair, cut very short. He  ask, "What are we suppose to do now?"
I shrug thinking how different this crew  is from Robby's crew last summer.
It doesn't look like it's going to be a lot of  fun for me at work this
year. Aaron leans against the wall and soon the silence  becomes fucking
awkward.


Two minutes seems like two hours with the only sound being the  subtle
noise of Mr. Surly's texting. A sound you almost don't hear, but you do.  I see
what Ryan means when he said my texting was driving him crazy during the
drive down here. Oh how I wish I was on Robby's crew. No sense lying to
myself,  this blows! In the silence my brain makes me think I need to clear my
throat,  but I don't want to draw attention to myself, then one of the guys
sitting in  the chairs coughs, and that makes two other guys cough and I'm
about ready to  fucking scream. After what seems like eternity, but is actually
less than five  minutes, Josh and Ryan come through a door that's behind the
counter with Josh  saying to us, "Come on back here guys," and the six of
us follow them into a  large room without windows. There are many metal
shelves taking up half the  space, and two twelve foot long tables with three
computer terminal on each, and  computer chairs in from of each computer. At
the back there's a big bay door  that a pickup truck could fit through. I'm
guessing it opens onto one of the  loading docks. Ryan says, "Have a seat,
guys," Ryan and I exchange eye contact  with Ryan's lips almost forming a grin.
He's probably as happy as I am to see a  familiar face.

Josh introduces himself as the manager in charge of our ten  week project,
then he introduces Ryan as the crew's supervisor. When Ryan's  introduced I
glance at Surly and see him move his lips saying something to  himself with
a sneer on his face as he rolls his eyes up, like, 'Can I believed  this
shit?' Josh wants us to introduce ourselves and we all say our names with
Surly mumbling, "Da'george Hall." Ryan gives a brief introduction, "Monday I'll
go into more detail, but for now as an overview, we'll be unloading
material  from trucks, unboxing it, logging it into computers, verifying the
registration number of each piece to insure it matches what's on the inventory,
then storing each item on the shelves with each piece labeled, it's location
 noted on the computer. So it's unloading and logging in every single item
no  matter how small. That's it in a nutshell." The old guy, Aaron, asks,
"What's  all the pieces for," and Josh says, "It's a new project for Lockheed,
so far a  secret project. I only know what our job is, and it's as Albert
outlined.  They'll be some large, very heavy pieces and some as small as a
screw. Every  piece needs to be catalogued." Aaron grins, "Some kind of secret
weapon, huh?"  Josh, goes, "This section of Lockheed-Martin has Aerospace
as part of it's name,  meaning it specializes in things that fly, including
missiles, but I haven't  been privy to the exact nature of this project yet."
Aaron goes, "Oh, space  ships and stuff." That's ignored as Ryan says,
"Save your questions for Monday,"  and he holds up a t-shirt, "This is our
uniform, a t-shirt. You'll each pick out  three of your size from the boxes there
on the table. Wear them to work, don't  change into them here. Other than
that you all need to sign a confidentiality  form that indicates you're not
to divulge the registration numbers or  description of anything you're
logging in."


He passes out the forms that nobody reads except Aaron. Five  of us sign it
and pass it back to Ryan, then wait for Aaron to read the both  pages
before he signs it. Ryan says, "Thanks for coming by this afternoon, and  as a
thank you for your time lunch all next week is on Lockheed in their
cafeteria. I'll pass out lunch vouchers Monday. See you then, eight-thirty  sharp."
Guys get up and look in the boxes of T-shirts choosing three of their
preferred size and then file out with Ryan saying to me, "Would you meet me at
the car? Josh wants to tell me something else." I nod, and follow the last guy
 out the door while I'm looking at the t-shirt. It's good quality, not
Fruit of  the Loom. A cool shade of bluish/green with a Lockheed Martin logo on
the left  chest area. The guys drift to  their cars without any interaction,
and none from me either as I light a  cigarette shaking my head, thinking,
'No fun for Daniel this summer, not at work  anyway.'  The Smith brothers
drive past me with  Stinky in the passenger seat, saying out the window, "See
ya Monday, dude," and  I give him a little hand wave, mumbling, "Dude." Five
minutes later Ryan comes  out smiling at me. He comes  over, squeezes my
shoulder, asking, "How'd I do?" I say, "You  da man, Albert. You did great."
We get in the Mini and Ryan puts the top down,  saying, "Good, it's only
twenty to six... we finished early. What do you think  of the crew?" I go, "It
don't look like a party crowd, not like last year when  you were on Robby's
crew for a month." He drives away, mumbling, "That was fun,  wasn't it? Give
these guys a chance though, it'll be okay." As we pass the guard  house. I
say, "I did the lawn for you," he goes, "Really? That's awesome!  Thanks. Did
my dad ask you to do it?" I go, "You know it, Albert, and he didn't  seem
shy about it either." Ryan mumbles, "No, dad's not shy."


At the house we go in the same door we always use and Ryan  gets us Cokes
from the refrigerator, saying, "Let's drink them outside and have  a smoke."
Then we hear, "Albert, is that you?" and his father comes into the  kitchen,
asking, "How'd it go," so Ryan tells him about the training session  with
Josh, which takes a few minutes, then a quick recap of his meeting with us
workers. His father's pleased, saying, "Well okay, you did me proud. You boys
 need to get cleaned up before dinner, but you've got almost an hour." Then
to  Ryan, "You unpacked yet, son?" Ryan hits his forehead, "Oops, not yet,"
then  turning to me, he says, "Daniel, run out to the car and get my stuff
from the  trunk, both suitcases." I glance at his father, then says, "Sure
thing, Albert,"  and go out to do what I'm told. I saw his father raise his
eyebrows and nod his  head, then pat Ryan's shoulder, obviously pleased with
his son's authoritative  manner. As I leave he mutters, "See you at dinner,"
and he heads back towards  the library, which is his office too apparently.
Ryan's bossiness, sending me on  an errand like this, is to impress his
father and help him get over the fact  Ryan's gay. Whatever, I told Ryan I'd
help him with that, and I will within  reason.


When I come in with his two bags, Ryan says, "Run them up to  my room, if
you don't mind." I'm like shocked until he laughs and hugs my  shoulders
saying in my ear, "Thank you for playing along with me." He takes the  suit
cases from me and we go upstairs to his bedroom. I flop on his bed, asking,
"What are we gonna do about getting reacquainted sexually?" He goes, "Shhh,
Jesus, keep it down." I'm smelling the back of my wrist getting horny thinking
 about us in bed this morning. Ryan unpacks, first putting the dirty
clothes from  the trip in the hamper and the random clothes he didn't wear on the
trip go in  various drawers of his bureau. As I watch him do that I'm
feeling my cock  stiffen up a little because I've got this sexual heat thing for
him. Done with  that little chore he looks at me, saying, "Look at this," and
he open his big  closet. Getting off the bed I follow him into the closet
where he moves clothes  on hangers and taps the wall, "It's just dry wall and
a couple of two by fours."  He takes ballpoint pen and twist it against the
wall until it pops through the  other side. Pulling out the pen, he looks
through the little hole, saying, "The  staircase is on the other side, but
the door's closed in the back attic and it's  too dark to see the stairs.
We'll come down stairs from the unfinished part of  the attic and you'll see
this hole I poked through the wall." I look through the  hole but just see
darkness.


I'm like, "Lets go up now and check it out." As we come out of  his bedroom
his mother calls up to us, "Albert! Bring your Bible and your friend
downstairs right away, please." We exchange frowns, then he says, "Oh fuck,
we'll need to swear on the Bible that we won't have sex of any kind in the
house." I go, "Seriously?" and he says, "Cross your fingers when you swear
because we're gonna have a lot of sex in this house." He gets a Bible off his
desk as I'm thinking it couldn't be a very powerful thing to swear on the
Bible  if the childish idea of crossing your fingers negates the whole thing.
We go  down to the living room where his mother has us sit side my side on
the sofa  with Ryan's Bible on the coffee table in front of us. She hands
another Bible to  Ryan open to a certain passage and says, "Read this out loud,
please." Ryan  reads, "Gen 19:5-8, they called to Lot and said to him,
'Where are the men who  came to you tonight? Bring them out to us that we may
have relations with them.'  But Lot went out to them at the doorway, and shut
the door behind him, and said,  'Please, my brothers, do not act wickedly."
He looks up as his mother's nodding  her head, then she takes the Bible and
turns to another section that she has  separated my a red string, passing the
Bible to me, "Now you, Daniel." I read,  "1 Cor 6:9, um, Or do you not know
that the unrighteous shall not inherited the  kingdom of God? Do not be
deceived; neither fornicators, nor effeminate, nor  homosexuals." She says,
"It's the word of the Lord." As I pass her Bible back to  her, I'm think,
That's it? That's proof homosexuality is  evil?' All it proves to me is gays have
been around for at least a  couple thousands years, and more likely five
thousand and before that in some  form too.


Mrs. Wilcox says, "Put your hands on the Bible," which Ryan  solemnly does,
and to be a brat I put my hand on top of his and squeeze it, then  glance
at his mother. She says, "I know you're his boyfriend and think you love
him, Daniel, and you have my reluctant blessings, but for now please just put
your hand on the Bible." I feel like a jerk now that she was so nice about
it.  Blushing a little, I put my hand on the Bible and we repeat what his
mother  wants us to swear to, which is that we not participate in any sexual
acts in her  house because it's against her religious beliefs. She says, "If
you two were  boyfriend and girlfriend, which obviously you're not, but if
you were I wouldn't  want you having unwed sex in my house either." And,
interestingly enough, she  didn't have us swear not to have sex together, just
not in here. Damn, the way  she puts it, I really should respect her wishes.
Done our 'swearing on the  Bible', she says, "Thank you, that's a head start
for your lessons with Minister  Joel." Joel? It better not be that Joel. She
says, "I'll be fixing dinner  now," then she stops, and says to me, "That
was touching the way you put your  hand on Albert's. A mother wants her child
to be happy and I don't dislike gays,  I'm merely committed to my religious
beliefs. But you two are sweet together."  Then she leans down to us,
"Don't tell the mister I said that though," and she  smiles and walks toward the
kitchen as I look at Ryan. He asks, "Did you have  your fingers crossed?"
I'm like, "You were serious about that?" He goes, "Yes,  did you cross your
fingers?" I nod my head, "Yeah," although I didn't. He grins  and rubs my
head, "Come on, we'll do a quickie in your bedroom." Huh, I feel  guilty about
doing that right now. It's his parent's house and we should respect  that.
Ryan pulls my arm, "Come on, Daniel," and I get up and kind of reluctantly
follow him up two flights of stairs.


In my bedroom, as Ryan's closing and locking the door, I ask,  "Shouldn't
we at least let our swears hang in the air until after dinner? Or we  can
drive some place, or do it in the Mini." He grins, "No," and he pulls my
shorts down to my knees and smacks my ass really hard twice, "SMACK!SMACK!",
saying, "I'm supposed to be the religious one, Daniel, not you," and, "SMACK!"
again. As he drops his shorts, I gripe, 'Ow, those smacks sting!" He grins,
"I  like spanking you as long as I'm not really hurting you. It doesn't
really hurt,  does it Daniel?" I go, "Yes, sometimes, and that name is getting
on my nerves."  Ryan says, "Shh!" and strokes my cock a few times.
Surprisingly I notice a  submissiveness beginning to developed already, and I'm
starting to think he's  not playing a role anymore. He's being dominant from
habit. Furthermore he's  been fucking me hard for five days straight now, twelve
times at least, and it's  probably my brain playing tricks on me, but it's
getting like his big boner is  becoming extremely familiar with my rectum
and vice versa. It's like he's  reshaping my rectum for his cock. I don't mean
he's thinking that's what he's  doing, and like I said it's probably just
in my head, but his cock is fitting up  my ass easier and easier each time.
And now, as he strokes my cock, I'm being  docile for him, and he's
definitely comfortable being consistently dominant with  our sex, which is very
attractive to me, so it's not like I'm complaining so  much a acknowledging
what's developing here. And he's in-charge so if he says  it's okay to fuck after
swearing we wouldn't, who am I to disagree. As I run my  fingers through
his hair with his scent all around me, I yearn to feel him  inside me again.
He stops stroking my cock, saying, "You know what comes first,  Daniel," and,
"SMACK!" on my ass again getting me yelping, but I drop to my  knees and
pick up his cock. As I'm sucking on it I hug around his ass with both  arms
looking up at him. Oh yeah, this is sexually hot and the one constant that  I
felt I had going for me here is Ryan dominantly fucking me so I'm going to
let  myself go and enjoy the hell out of it.

Ryan's looking down at me as he rubs my head, almost purring,  "Good, that
feels good, Daniel, mmm, yeah, suck my cock, boy." His cock is  getting
harder and harder right along with mine. By the time saliva's drooling  down my
chin his cock is plenty hard, so without being told I put my head back  and
feed the head of his cock past the gag reflex area at the back of my mouth,
gagging like mad and a almost hurling. Ryan goes up on his toes, leans over
 slightly and drives his cock almost straight down my throat until his
pubic  hairs surround my nose, mouth and chin. He strokes my head, "Good boy,
that's my  boy," and begins moving his hips dragging his boner out of my
throat and then  pushing it back down it. It's the smoothest deep throating yet
as I get more  relaxed and with experience I'm able to tolerate it better.
And, oh god, does  this ever get me aroused. Two minutes of gagging deep
throating has me just  about blowing my load right now. I sense precum dripping
from my cock, and while  I can't see it, I know my cock is so hard it's
sticking straight out again. Ryan  and I are really in a sexual grove already,
and it's only the first week. I  shiver at the dominate way he's deep
throating me and instead of being relieved,  I'm disappointed when he pulls his hard
pole out of my throat all sloppy with  his precum and my spit.


With a hand under each of my armpits he helps me up and turns  me around
with my shorts dropping to my ankles. He put the palm of his hand over  my
mouth, his other hand guides his boner to my asshole and he humps it in as I
groan into his hand. His arm goes around my waist holding me in place as his
cock gets pushed all the way up my ass steadily and quickly with him saying
in  my ear, "Shhh, take it, Daniel, this is the quickest way to get you
used to  taking it right up there. By the end of the week you'll hardly mind it
at all,  and pleasure will be all you feel almost from the first thrust.
You remember our  early days together, don't ya" I nod my head, and keeping
his hand over my  mouth, he begins moving his hips fucking me. The pain is
pretty bad at first and  I'm struggling against him, but it's almost like
wrestling with Ryan having the  distinct advantage position, plus his arms are
stronger than mine now that he's  been lifting weights for a year. He gets
control of the situations fairly easily  because the pain in my ass has most of
my attention and therefore my struggles  aren't coordinated, and now Ryan's
got a good rhythm going, "Slapslspslapslap,"  and he knows he's got me as I
stop struggling and lean back against him  docilely, and let the pleasure
from my rectum spread over my body. It's like in  my submissive frame of mind
I feel lucky to have Ryan fucking me. It's a mind  thing, but that doesn't
detract from the immense pleasure I receive from being  fucked hard and
dominantly by someone who knows how to do it and insists on  doing it his way.
I'm putty in Ryan's hands by now and he knows that too, but it  feels so good
I can't think about anything but the sounds. "Slapslapslapslap,"  and the
awesome sensations of being fucked, and after a minute or so Ryan begins
grunting from the effort.


My head's back on his shoulder as I'm feeling a delicious  sexual buzzing
in my belly, groin, and rectum that's captivated my senses. After  three
minutes of sexual bliss Ryan stops his fast thrusting and does it more
deliberately now that he has me completely addicted to his cock. He knows I'm  not
going anywhere but where he wants me, so he dominantly makes me wait with
bated breath while he takes his time pushing his fully sensitized hard penis
back and forth in my ass at the speed he feels like. I picture in my brain
ever  bit of his hard cock sticking out arrogantly from his dark pubic hair,
the head  engorged and red looking angry and totally in-charge. Ryan's
behind me, his arms  at his side as I stand perfectly still for him awaiting for
more explosions of  sexual pleasure and then his big organ begins again to
tightly slide back up my  ass, slowly at first, inch by inch it disappears
inside me and when seven fat  inches have stretched my rectum Ryan humps the
last inch in extra hard and hold  it there a tick or two as I'm up on my
toes, "Ummm, oooh, ooh," and then his  boner comes back the same way it went in
as sensations from my prostate and anus  cloud my mind with a mixture of
tantalizing pleasure and anticipation and need  to experience it again... and,
yes!, the big hard head of his cock again begins  it's journey disappearing
further and further up my ass electrifying nerve  ending on it's way until it
once again creating an indescribably, almost  unbearable rush of pleasure,
and then that last dominant hump with Ryan's belly  plasters against my
buttocks, him leaving it there with me on my toes again, and  another hump
against my butt cheeks before the withdrawal that's almost as  scintillating as
the trip up, "Um, um, oh Albert, ooh, ooh!"


Gasping for breath, his big hard boner fitting my rectum  like a glove now,
tight and a perfect fit... if the cock won't fit, you must  acquit. Ten,
fifteen, eighteen slow thrusts up my ass with the final hard hump  following
each one sending me up on my toes waiting for the beginning of his  withdrawal.
He holds his boner up there a second or two which seems so dominant  I'm
gasping and gulping and unable to think straight. All I want is one more
time, and then another, and another, "Ooh! Ooh! Oh my god, ooh." Thrust, pause,
thrust, pause thrust, "Ahhhh, god," thrust! Pause, thrust!, Ryan's grunting
now  and again grabbing hold of my hips. I know he's near his climax when
he pushes  the back of my head roughly and I bend over with my hands on my
knees licking my  lips as my orgasm is almost at the tipping point. Ryan
finishes me off with a  minute of incredibly hard and fast rabbit fucking that
almost immediately  creates an overload of sensation and with me squealing and
him whining and doing  out of control thrusting we both climax. I can't
tell which came first, his  spunk hitting and warming the walls of my bowels or
if it was my sharp stream of  cum flying out between my legs in a low arc
splattering again the closet door,  then I can't hear or see as my follow up
stream of cum soars up my incredibly  hard penis and out into the air
leaving me shaking all over. Ryan humps against  my buttock again, moaning and now
laying his chest on my back, then a whine and  another hump, and another
weaker one. We sway and take deep breaths, then I feel  limp but wonderful as
I'm grinning and recognizing the various fizzling  sensations of my orgasm
fading, fading and then blink out altogether. Now it's  heart pounding, lung
expanding time as I slowly straighten up with Ryan  straightening up with
me, his arms around me as we stagger together backwards  until he bumps into
the bed and lays back on it bringing me with him, his cock  still inside me
with cum drooling out of my ass and me dizzy, but feeling  fantastic too.


The world returns slowly at  first, and oh god that felt so good I've got a
little smile on my face in awe of  the power of sex, and the way Ryan can
take it to the next level. He lay's on  the bed under me quietly moaning.
He's right though, our sex is getting better  and better, but now that the
climax sensations, too many to count, have faded  into just hard to believe
memories, I begin feeling guilty again. Ryan's mother  was nice when we were
swearing on the Bible and she said we were sweet together.  It was almost in an
apologetic way that she explained she needed to be faithful  to her
beliefs. I wasn't convinced at all that the Bible condemned  homosexuality, not
from the vague passages we read. She believes it though and  it's her house,
and therefore we should have respected that. Putting my hands on  either side
of me on the bed I push myself to a sitting position, move my hips a  little
to feel Ryan's cock slide in his cum up my ass, then with a quiet moan I
stand and his cock slides out of my ass and flops on his leg with a quiet,
"Splat." Standing and looking back at Ryan, I murmur, "That felt good,
Albert."  He sits up wiggling his finger at me and giving me his confident grin
while  pointing at his cock. I hesitate a second, but feel a strong
submissiveness to  him and it makes me shudder in a pleasant way. Dropping to my knees
between his  leg I pick up his sloppy cock to suck and lick it, then his
balls as he lays  back on the bed, then inching forward until his asshole is
exposed over the  edge of the mattress. I lick and suck his privates, then
rim his asshole feeling  deeply aroused by this luscious submissive sense
until he sits up and again  pulls me up with a hand under my arms. We lay in bed
for ten minutes or so as  the submissive feeling drifts away just like
orgasmic sensations  do.


Back to my normal senses I feel sticky, hot, and spent. I feel  like I did
something I'm not proud of, and now the memories of my orgasm aren't  enough
to erase those other feelings, and I need to brush my teeth and take a
long shower. How am I going to rationalize away my guilty feeling, and why
doesn't Ryan feel guilty too? I get up and off the bed, "I'm gonna take a
shower," and Ryan says, "Come back here, Dylan." I go, "Oh, you made a mistake
with my name," and I said that in a sing song fashion dragging out the word
'mistake' and 'name in a joking way. He grins, "No, I didn't, I meant to
say  your name because no matter how many times I say, 'Daniel' in my mind I'm
 thinking, 'Dylan'. I said it on purpose." I go, "Oh okay, why'd you say,
'come  here'?" He goes, "Because of your expression, and I know you. You're
looking  guilty, and acting like we did something wrong, and we didn't. Why
should my  mother's beliefs be more important than ours?" I go, "Because it's
her house?" I  say that as a question, and he goes, "It's my house too,
isn't it?" That does  make me feel a little better. If only his mother had been
nasty about us being  gay I'd more easily feel like Ryan and rationalize
that it's okay to defy her.  She had to say we were sweet though, and that
makes it harder for me to justify  getting fucked three minutes after swearing
we wouldn't. Ryan gets up, "I'm  going down for a shower too, but try being
open minded... see both sides of this  situation and I'll think about it
some more too, but right now I'm thinking our  beliefs are every bit as valid
as my mother's." I nod my head, not sure what I  think. We do a quick hug
with me mumbling, "Okay, Albert, we'll both think about  it some more, but um,
just so ya know: that was spectacular sex, and I think  you're awesome."
Another hug and he asks, "Yes, but are you in love with me  yet," and  I'm
like, "I don't believe so, not the way you mean anyway." He  shrugs as he lets
go of me, "I'll check back with you later on that." I grin,  nodding my head,
"Yeah, you do that."


He stops at the door, "Oh, another family tradition. At dinner  it's a
button down shirt, not a t-shirt." I go, "Got it, Albert." After  showering I
put on one of the button down-the-front shirts from the cleaners  and, to be
safe, a pair of skinny khaki pants instead of shorts, then  decide on loafers
rather than sneakers, and then go down the stairs to the  second floor
looking for my security blanket. He's in his bathroom trying to  comb his
pompadour the way he likes it. When he sees me he grins handing me the  comb. I
feel like his big brother combing his hair for him, and that makes me  pause.
Yes, I feel close to Ryan like a brother would feel, not like a lover.
Brothers who fuck, like Ryan said. There's a huge difference in this kind of
love from the love Robby and I have, and the past six days with Ryan has
reinforced that to me. It's the opposite effect that Ryan was hoping would be
the case. His pompadour's the way he likes it, so I give his cheek a
brotherly  kiss smiling to myself that Ryan can be my brother who fucks me, but
Robby's  always going to be the one I'm in love with. I pat Ryan's shoulder, and
as we go  down stairs he says, "Your mood has improved, Daniel, I'm happy
to see that." I  go, "Thank you, Albert, I feel pretty good."


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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