Date: Sat, 19 Nov 2016 16:54:33 -0500 From: MGTBILL@aol.com Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter 16 DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter 16 by Donny Mumford After doing Pony's haircut, I'm sitting in the pickup with the engine running, not even thinking about sex. My plan is to drive on campus and watch Rob play baseball. Pony leans into the passenger's side window, saying, "Before you drive off, Dylan," and he grins, shaking his head a little, like he can't believe he's going to say this, "What would you guess I'd rather do right now then watch a baseball game?" I go, "What's that?" Taking a deep breath, he goes, "Well, after talking things over with you, I'm feeling much better about everything, um, sex-wise, so I'm wondering if you'd be interested in having another go at buddy sex." I look at him, "Really, Daryl? Right now?" He says, "Yeah really, if you're willing." Huh! Shrugging, I turn off the engine, "Sure, why not? Hell, I'm a big fan of buddy sex. Who knows, maybe I'll even get a kiss this time?" He smirks, "You probably will, if you insist." I lean over and rub his new buzz cut, saying, "Let's go, buddy." He grins, and says enthusiastically "Okay, let's go!" Chuckling to myself, I get out of the pickup. We walk past the shit-box Oldsmobile that Pony parked illegally next to a fire hydrant, near the back door. He seems a tiny bit tense now that I've said 'yes', so for something to say, I point at the Oldsmobile, mumbling, "Nice of your roommate to let you use his car." Pony says, "Yeah, he's a good guy." After tapping in the pass code, the back door buzzes open and we go in with Pony's mumbling, "This feels a little different without the crutch of alcohol, doesn't it?" I'm like, "You only had two friggin' beers last night," and he's like, "I can't drink for shit. Um, this is a normal thing for two guys to be doing, right?" Partially tongue in cheek, I go, "Two compatible gay guys, yes. Sex, generally speaking, is good for you. Scientific studies indicate sex is a healthy activity increasing the heart rate, burns some calories, allows one to sleep better, and maybe most importantly it relieves stress." Going up the back stairs to the second floor, he says, "Yeah? Maybe they were referring to, you know, hetero sex." I'm like, "No, not necessarily. Think of consensual sex as a metaphor for a healthy relationship, and that goes for straight or gay sex relationships. I mean, you wouldn't have sex with someone you didn't like, would you?" He goes, "I already did that twice," and I go, "Oh yeah. Um, that isn't what the researchers are talking about. Your first two times were more like, um, desperate sex. That kind tends to make you feel bad about yourself. Anyway, the word 'consensual' was mostly missing in your first two sexual experiences, so that's an entirely different matter. The scientific studies I read referred to consensual sex. It did not differentiate between heterosexual and homosexual sex. And, by the way, you're not the only one whose experienced sex with someone they didn't especially like, or even know. As a matter of fact, not too long ago I experienced something similar. Deeply under the influence of weed and booze I had sex that wasn't really consensual. I say that because I was unable to exert free-will because of my physical and mental condition. I was higher than a kite can fly from smoking pot, plus drunker than a skunk from drinking shots and beers. It was my fault, my bad choices; no excuses, although in my defense I wasn't aware it was pot laced with cocaine at the time. In any case, when I got sober I felt horrible about myself, but that situation has nothing to do with the sex studies I'm referring to. Do you see the difference?" He shrugs, muttering, "I guess. It a bit convoluted, but..." and I go, "I'm just saying consensual sex is fun and good for you. The other type of sex isn't good for you and should be avoided." Inside the apartment, I'm like, "After saying all that, the bottom line is: two people need to mutually agree to share sex with one another. If there's any hesitation on either person's part, you probably shouldn't do it. At least not then; give it some more thought." He goes, "Well, Dylan, there's no hesitation on my part. How 'bout you?" I chuckle, then say, "No, no hesitation. I'm good, buddy. One of my favorite mottos is: as long as you're not hurting yourself or others, why not do something you enjoy." He smirks at me, "I like the sound of that. You're so wise, Dylan. You might be the smartest person I know." That makes me laugh. Then I quickly say, "Sorry for laughing, but I'm not all that smart. It's more like I have a huge capacity for rationalizing. Still, I'm sincere about my motto even though there is an ancillary consideration, which is this: my buddy needs to be at least as anxious to do it as I am." He asks, "How can you know that?" Shrugging, "It's a judgement call on my part. When I'm in doubt about someone's commitment, I don't do it with them." He drops his pants, grinning at me, asking, "What's your judgement telling you about my commitment?" Glancing at his privates for a second, I laugh again, and he says, "And here's your kiss." He holds my face between his hands and gives me a closed-mouth kiss that last maybe two seconds." He backs up, blushing a little, and asks, "How was that?" I grin, then say, "On a scale of one to ten, that was about a two, but kissing isn't everybody's thing." He says, "I'll get better at it." Wanting to move the proceedings along, I'm like, "Well, it's already three-thirty, Pony. We don't know when the ballgame might be over, so let's go in the bathroom and have some quick recreational buddy sex." Pulling his pants up, Pony walks beside me down the short hallway, mumbling, "I can hardly believe this is happening. It's so new and exciting to just, um... just do it. You know, like that old Nike commercial. And you make it seem so natural." He's still speaking fast, but not nearly as fast as earlier. Probably feeling more comfortable, and he definitely seems excited. Hell, I'm thinking way back to how wickedly excited I was for fat Carl to fuck me. That is, once I got over the initial shock of it all. That could be Pony's frame of mind right about now. He wanted reassurance we weren't being deviants, and apparently he's satisfied with my partially tongue-in-cheek theories about sex. I was actually quoting some cherry-picked facts from parts of the articles I'd read on the subject. Of course that was years ago when I had some of the same doubts Daryl questioned me about. In the bathroom Pony lets go of his pants and they drop to his ankles. He's not shy about being naked, his slightly undersized package notwithstanding. He says, "Well, can I try the oral sex on you again? See if I can do it better." Nodding my head, I say, "Sure," although I'm doubtful he'll do it better. He looks at me, mumbling, "I guess I might as well do it properly, huh? I mean, on my knees." I say, "I find it's easier that way." He pulls over the bath mat to kneel on, making me grin. Very practical move on his part. Daintily picking up my dick, he then licks it without hesitation. Then, exaggerating the covering of his teeth with his lips, he slides some of my cock inside his mouth and his warm moist tongue moves quickly all around the head. I say, "Try doing it a little slower, Pony." Looking up at me, his eyes at the top of their sockets, he nods his head and moves his tongue slower, making my shoulders shudder a little bit. Then, as expected, I feel his lip moving off the bottom teeth and soon my cock is lying on those sharp little incisors of his. It almost makes me laugh. Fact is, I'd get a hard-on faster by sucking his cock, but there's something to be said for helping a young eager inexperienced gay guy learn the ropes, so to speak, so I grin and bare it. After a minute or so I feel my cock begin seriously responding to Pony's oral stimulation. What's helping in that regard is me looking down at Pony's newly buzzed head and remembering the slight fetish-buzz I got while giving him the haircut. Plus, he's got a cute face, and I like him. Resigned to his sharp teeth I actually get a bit aroused from the scraping on the underside of my cock. The scraping of his teeth begins feeling sexy in the way a little pain can sometime increase the pleasure; in this case the pleasure of his tongue sliding smoothly and warmly around the head of my hardening cock. Pony begins stoking his cock now and that five inch cute dick of his is getting hard right before my eyes. That's arousing too, and I grunt, "Ummm, ooh," and squirm a little feeling the beginnings of an orgasm building in my nuts. My hands go to his head, my fingers rubbing his crisp buzzed hair. Then my hips hump a little, seemingly on their own, and I feel precum drooling out the head of my cock. Pony sucks on it, then I need to push his head away because, surprisingly, I was right on the verge of climaxing. Pony looks up at me with a grin on his face, and some shiny precum on his lips. He asks, "How was that, Dylan?" Holy shit! I need to take a deep breath before saying, "Good, that was very good, Daryl." Jesus! He's going through the pockets of his pants that are still rumpled around his ankles. His hand comes out with a newer condom packet then the last one. I keep my deep breathing as quiet as possible, not wanting him to see how aroused his cock sucking got me. After all I'm suppose to be the experienced one here. Damn though, those teeth of his added an unexpected sexy feature to his amateurish oral sex technique. Actually I've occasionally scrapped my teeth lightly along a really hard cock I'm sucking, but this is the first time I've experienced it in reverse. Yeah, by including some teeth exposure during oral sex it might be construed as a touch of arrogance, or a dominant touch from a submissive person's viewpoint. I liked it, but obviously Pony wasn't doing it intentionally. Hmmm, that's something I gotta try with Robby. Wow, Pony's stroked himself a pretty good boner there, so I ask, "Did you start getting that boner from sucking my dick?" He looks excited, "Yeah, all of a sudden it just hit me; I've got Dylan cock in my mouth! It was definitely arousing. Like I mentioned before, I kinda suspected I'd like sucking a guy's dick, and I was right about that." I'm thinking that less then twenty-four hours ago he labeled himself as only, slightly bisexual! Pony's proud of himself, exclaiming, "Last time I was blowing you I floundered around and overworked my tongue, but I think I straightened out most of my mistakes, and did it correctly today." Nodding my head, encouraging him while struggling to keep a serious expression on my face. When I don't say anything, he asks, "Don't you agree, Dylan?" Oh I didn't realize he was finished complimenting himself. I'm like, "Oh yeah! Good blow job, Pony. Still got a little work to do covering those little daggers you call teeth, but mostly that was good oral sex, especially for someone doing it for only the second time." He turns around now, sort of mooning me by pushing his cute bare ass up, as he says, "I'm ready when you are." Oh man, that's an awesome ass on Pony. Seeing it right there in front of me, wow, I'm definitely anxious to bury my cock up inside him, but I pretend to be blasé about it. "Take it easy, buddy," as I carefully open the condom packet, then roll it onto my boner and, damn that feels good! I wanted us in the bathroom because of the ease of cleaning Pony's orgasm off tile and porcelain. Without me telling him to, Pony leans over and holds onto the rim of the sink pushing his ass up again, looking back at me. I feel like stroking my cock because this condom feels tight on my boner making it quiver a little. Damn, it feels good, but I don't stroke it because of the lubricant on the condom. Yeah well, nothing's perfect. Glancing at Pony, who is still looking back anxiously, I smirk at him and give his ass a hard slap and a, "SMACK!" sound rings off the tile walls as Pony yelps, arching his back and stroking his cock a few times. He mutters, "Do that again." "SMACK! SMACK!" and Pony leans forward, grunting out, "I'm going to cum." What the fuck? I'm like, "Stop pulling on your pud!" He moves his shoulders and wiggles his ass, saying, "Everything feels so good, Dylan. Damn, I like this buddy-sex shit." I wait a few seconds, then ask, "You okay now?" and he goes, "A couple more smacks on my ass, please." When I give him two more, "SMACK! SMACK!" I see my hand print momentarily in white on his left butt cheek, but it quickly fades to dark pink. Pony's taking gasping breaths, reaching down towards his boner until I say a stern, "Daryl!!" and his hand goes back on the rim of the sink. My boner is tight up against my belly, leaking a little. I spread his butt cheeks to get a look at his clean rosebud anus. Heh heh, I wonder what his reaction would be if I licked across it? Nah, he'd probably blow his load. I take a hand off his right butt so I can pull my boner down and press the slippery head against his anus. The lips spread, then the head tightly pops in past his sphincter muscle and immediately the firm lips of his asshole close snuggly around the neck of my highly sensitized hard penis. I'm biting my bottom lip to stifle a moan of pleasure, thinking, 'damn, this feels good!' Pony moans, "Ooooh, jezzus." Those strange pulsing sensations begins inside his rectum causing my body to do a little shudder, and then a quiet, "Mmm," sneaks out from my throat. Pony's arching his back and blowing out short puffs of air while shuffling his feet, before again grunting out, "I'm gonna cum," so I don't move. With just the head of my boner in Pony's ass, I wait until his urge to cum passes. As I wait, my hands massage his butt cheeks and these babies are tight, almost hard. Really nice tight rounded, hairless curved butt cheeks. They're the same color as his pale face. Just enough pigmentation to give a healthy appearance. Yeah, he has that pale complexion contrasting with the dark brown hair on his buzzed head, and his dark blue eyes. There's barely any hair on his calves and none on his arms or torso. What'd he tell me? Yeah, he said his mother is Filipino and Filipinos normally have sparse body hair. Or was it his grandfather who's Filipino? Pony says, "I almost shot my load, Dylan. And, oh God, this feels good." I mumble, "It sure does, Um, are you ready to get fucked?" He nods his head, muttering, "Uh huh," and I slowly push my boner up his rectum. As each inch disappears inside Pony, lubricant from the condom accumulates outside his tight anus. It's warmed by his body's heat and I watch the shiny substance drool down under him to the back of his scrotum. That's a drawback for using a condom, but other than that I'm liking it. Pony's making his hissing sound, drawing air in through closed teeth as my cock continues it's trip up his ass. A final little hump and my crotch is flat against his muscular buttocks. "You doing okay, Daryl?" He nods, then moans, "Oooooh, ummmm, yeah. It feels awesome,; I can't hardly... mmm, ooooh..." I interpret those as encouraging moans and groans, and they add to my sexual arousal significantly. It's kind of a rush for me to be causing sexual pleasure for him. Pulling my boner back slowly, then immediately pushing it back up his ass, and right away pull it back out, but this time I almost pull it entirely out, stretching out the lips of his anus that are caught under the bulbous head. In it goes again disappearing up his ass a little faster this time with my crotch smacking against his butt cheeks, "Slap." Pony's back arches and I hear the hissing sound again. If he hadn't confirmed how good it felt a few seconds ago I wouldn't know how to interpret that sound he's making. With my hands flat on his back I get my hips moving, thrusting my cock back and forth inside him and the sizzling sensations coming off my boned-up cock have me gritting my teeth and sucking on my lips. 'Topping' is so different from being the bottom. Huh, the concept of 'topping' is becoming more and more attractive to me! It could mostly be that Pony has an amazing ass, but whatever it is, topping him is really arousing the hell out of me. Spanking his ass felt good too, but then I've always acknowledged there's an inherent dominant aspect to topping, and that's true whether you're intentionally being dominant or not. With that in mind I begin harder thrusting, really driving my hard organ up his ass with the familiar 'Slap," sound of my body smacking into his buttocks. "Slap, slap, slap," showing Pony who's in charge. Now he's doing noisy deep breathing in between his aroused moans of sexual pleasure, "Aaah, aaah, aaah! Oooh, Ooooh! Mmm, mmm," those moans of sexual arousal and pleasure, and his noisy breathing, turns me on even a little bit more. We're into it hot and heavy now with fast, hard, "Slap, slap,slap, slap," sounds dinging off the bathroom's tile walls joining Pony's moans and deep breathing, and my grunts, "Umm, umm, umm," with each thrust up his ass. Jesus, all around my groin area there's pulsating pleasure pangs that throb enticingly along with a bombardment of sexual sensations from my super sensitized hard penis. I go, "Ooooh, oooh," breathy exclamations of intense sexual pleasure. It's a hot three, then four minutes before Pony moans, "Aaaah!" as his hips hump. I lean my head to the side just in time to see a good stream of creamy cum shooting out from his wickedly-hard five inch boner. The string of cum splatters off the front of the porcelain sink. The head of his boner is rosy red and the foreskin is stretched back so tightly it looks like it'll rip. Three more spurts of cum shoot from Pony's boner and then his tight body shakes before relaxing completely. He moans quietly and strokes his cock as I'm pounding my boner up his ass feeling my orgasm come roaring on me now. My crotch humps against his buttocks with cum shooting out into the condom. Then again, and I see red in my head now as too many nerve ending spasm and sparkle at the same time. Then the swirling after effects of climax congregate around my groin and inside my thighs, trying to decide if they're pleasure or pain before a sweep of pleasure rolls over me and I relax with a final shoulder shudder. I'm sighing quietly as it all fades away. It was pure pleasure, just this side of pain... Taking a deep breath, feeling a little faint, I wait for my heart to stop trying to beat it's way out of my chest, then pull my cock out of his ass with Pony going, "Oooooh!" As I back up I'm pulling off the cum filled condom, then unceremoniously drop it in the toilet and flush it into oblivion, or into the sewer anyway. With a long sigh Pony turns around and, leaning back against the sink for support, he goes, "Fucking amazing! That was so hot, Dylan. Ooh fuck that felt so good." I'm nodding my head, still catching my breath. It's all so fleeting though. Ten seconds or so of unimaginable ecstasy, and then a sigh of pleasure... and it's over. Well that's not entirely true because there's always a nice feeling right afterwards, a contended sense of being satisfied for the moment. Taking a final deep breath, I wipe lubricant and cum off my dick and pass the washcloth to Pony, saying, "Wipe up the cum you shot on the sink." He does that and hands me back the washcloth. I go, "Ewww," and drop it in the hamper. He asks, "Was that good buddy sex, or what?" I go, "Primo buddy sex, Pony. Great ass ya got there." He asks, "Am I, um, that is, even though I'm inexperienced, um... I mean, is buddy sex with me okay for you. Am I doing anything wrong?" I go, "Absolutely not. You're an excellent buddy sex partner." He pretends to pat himself on the back, so I say, "Actually being the bottom isn't all that challenging, or hard to do." He goes, "Yes, but there's different positions, right? I mean, it's a dick up someone's ass, but not everybody can be a good 'bottom', am I right?" Huh, this is the first time I've heard a bottom looking for compliments. It's usually the 'top' who needs reassuring. I tell him truthfully, "You're about as good a bottom as there is. And I'm serious about that." He nods his head, muttering, "Thanks, that's what the older guy at the shore told me before he spanked my ass raw and called me a dirty boy." Pony said that so fast and so sincerely I blurt out a laugh and he's like, "Go ahead... make fun of me again, but that's what he said." I'm like, "Don't be so sensitive. I'm kidding you!" He mutters, "I was just asking because I didn't know whether to believe the old guy or not." I lightly punch his shoulder, mumbling, "Believe him 'cause it's true. You're a gifted bottom." He shrugs, muttering, "I never know if you're serious." I ask him, "Have you ever thought about topping?" He shakes his head, "Not really, should I?" I go, "Not on my account, no." Pulling up our pants, we walk back to the living room with Pony asking, "Can I get something to drink, Dylan?" We both get another Coke and bring the sodas with us to the parking lot. In the pickup I fire up the engine grinning to myself because I think I've got myself a buddy sex partner for my Junior year. Damn, I knew there was a connection between Daryl and me that first day we saw each other in the bleachers at the ballpark. No way did I imagine it'd work out this well though, or this quickly. We drink our Cokes as I follow Pony in his borrowed Oldsmobile onto the campus. Parking as close to the ballpark as possible, we walk down to the park and go in the general admission entrance, dumping our empty Coke cans in the recycle receptacle that's conveniently right there, then I do a quick scan of the stands. Huh, maybe a hundred fans in the bleachers this afternoon. Naturally there's Frankie and her girlfriends, including the rude one with a ring through her nostril. Why the hell do people want rings through any part of their nose. How do they blow their nose, or even wipe it? Thinking that I unconsciously touch my sweatshirt feeling my nip ring. It's not like I'm against piercings so much as I'm against piercings of the nose and mouth. Those two parts of the body are functional. My nipple is just there, it doesn't have an actual function. It certainly doesn't have food or mucus going through it. Same with my two pierced earlobes. We sit down near the end of the fourth bleacher from the bottom, as I ask Pony, "Have you ever thought about getting your earlobe pierced?" He goes, "Yeah, but I haven't gotten around to doing it yet. I was serious when I told you I'm a world class procrastinator; I'm champion of the world in that." Robby's at short stop and I kinda wave trying to get his attention, but all his attention is on the batter, a big black guy. That makes me think to look for Lawyer and see him in the dugout smiling his great smile at something a teammate said. Pony asks, "Which one is your boyfriend?" I point to Robby, saying, "The shortstop." Pony goes, "Jesus Christ, he is good looking. You weren't lying." I ask, "Do you play any sports?" and he chuckles, saying, "You either aren't paying attention or you have a memory problem of some sort. I told you I was on the high school swim team all four years, plus I did gymnastics." I look at him, saying, "Yeah, I remember you telling that, but my question was: have you played any sports? Gymnastics and swimming don't quality as a sport, not any more than bowling does." He goes, "Well fuck you then," and he musses my hair. I mutter, "I need to buy a hat." Pony simmers for a few seconds, then says, "You're so full of crap. Swimming is definitely a sport." I go, "It's an activity, and sometimes a competition. There's no opponent trying to prevent you from doing your swim though. It's like someone growing roses for a Rose Competition. That's competition too, but it doesn't qualify as a sport." He goes, "Growing roses? What the fuck ya talking about?" Smirking, I go, "Yeah, activities like bowling and golfing are games, not sports. You need an opponent trying to prevent you from whatever you want to accomplish in order for it to qualify as a sport." He goes, "You're crazy, and you hurt my feelings. I've got trophies for winning swimming and gymnastic meets." Putting my arm around the back of his neck, then getting him in a headlock, his bristly buzz cut hair against my cheek, I say, "That's more than I even won, Daryl, so congratulations for winning those competitions, but neither one is 'sports' in the truest sense." He doesn't try to get away from the headlock; instead he goes limp against me, sort of nesting in until it feels like I'm hugging him, so I let go, saying, "Soccer, lacrosse, basketball, baseball, football, ice hockey are all sports, and there are probably others I'm forgetting." He sits up saying, "We're having our first fight as friends." I grin, saying, "And it's not a fair one either. I won too easily." He grins, saying again, "You're crazy." Ya know, some guys just appeal to me so much more than others, and Pony's one of the ones that appeals to me. Right off the back, after just meeting him, I knew I was going to like him a lot. He does remind me of Wildwood's Charlie. Both a year younger than me and inexperienced, but very fond of gay sex, and they're both cute. I'm lucky that way, and I really should give Charlie a call. I'll probably do that closer to the summer though, when he might know his parents' plans for a vacation. I'd like to hook-up with him again next summer. He's fun. With my arm across Pony's shoulders, I point out Golden Summers and Danny Monday, saying, "They're friends of mine too. I'll introduce you to them and then you'll have two more friends here at Merrimack." As I'm saying that I'm taking another quick glance at the spectators, wondering if Ryan's here. Pony goes, "What the fuck? Do you only have good looking guys as your friends? Your boyfriend and those other two guys are all really good looking dudes." I chuckle, "Yes, good looks is a prerequisite to being a friend of mine, and you barely qualify, Daryl." He goes, "Hey! I'm photogenic; you already agreed I was." I'm like, "Yes, you are, and obviously I'm kidding about guys needing to be good looking. Friends are more special than gold as far as I'm concerned, no matter if they're good looking or not." He smirks at me, "Gee, I hope I'm as wise as you when I'm twenty-one." I go, "And I'm hurt you'd believe I'm so shallow that I'd insist my friends be good looking." He says, "I didn't believe that! Nobody is that big of an asshole." Grinning at me, he adds, "Not even you, I was just..." and he gets interrupted when some guy rubs Pony's head, saying, "Whoa, that's quite an appearance change for you, Daryl!" Pony looks up and smiles, saying, "Oh, my other friend is here. Dylan meet Tom Higgins, my roommate. Tom this is Dylan, um, I forget your last name, Dylan." I shake the offered hand, saying, "Newman. Dylan Newman. Nice to meet you, Tom." He sits next to Pony and nasally says, "Likewise. You must be the barber Daryl's bragging about?" I say, "I don't know about the bragging part, but I'm the barber." Tom's wearing a hat, that he takes off, and says, "As you can see I've recently gotten a haircut, but my roommate says maybe I can get a free one from you next time." I nod, "Yeah, he mentioned that to me too. Um, when Pony needs another haircut why don't you come with him." Pony mumbles, "Tom probably won't want to wait that long." His roommate is a fairly nice looking guy, but he could easily be twenty-eight instead of twenty. A lot of guys change over from their boyish looks to their mature adult looks much sooner than us lucky guys. It's not their fault obviously, and most straight guys have probably never given their mature appearance anything more than a passing thought. Gay guys, like me, obviously are much more into noticing other guy's looks. Tom's a little shorter than Pony and I, with a thicker body. He's got the usual brown hair and eyes. His straight medium length hair is cut in a regular haircut style, with a part on the left side. And like I said he's kind of nice looking except his nose is red because of the flu or cold he's presently suffering through. In that regard I'm thinking of looking for some hand sanitizer after shaking hands with him. Tom asks me the normal questions: where I'm from, etcetera, and Pony provides some of the answers for me, like we're a couple or something. Tom tells me info about himself without me asking. From what I can tell he's an okay guy. Then Pony asks him if swimming's a sport and we discuss that again with me going to my tongue-in-cheek routine, putting Pony on again. I need to do my fake coughing to hide some laughs as I say a few of my more outrageous remarks about how there's a lot of gays involved in gymnastics and swimming. Tom's smirking at my comments, so he's almost certainly not gay, nor is he aware that Pony and I are. Or at least I am; Pony's only the slightest bit bisexual... ha ha! It's an entertaining exchange; entertaining for me at least. And then the baseball game is over and I realize I never knew the score, or who won. Students begin standing and making their way out as the ballplayers are jogging off the field into the club house. Tom stands, and asks, "Where'd you park the car, Daryl?" He says, "I'll show you," and to me, he says, "Thanks for the haircut, Dylan. Maybe we can get together and try that, um, computer game again," wink, wink. We're all standing now and I bump fists with Pony, mumbling, "You bet, shoot me a text when you've got some time to kill," and to Tom, "Nice meeting you." He pats my shoulder, saying, "Yeah, you too." As they walk down the bleachers I sit back down and text Robby, 'Rob, I'll wait for you at the general admission entrance.' No immediate response, but it's only been a couple of minutes since the game ended and he's probably commiserating with his teammates about it. When most people have filed out, I walk down and wait where I told Robby I'd be. Lighting up a cigarette I'm thinking about Pony and me, wondering if we'll get into a repeatable pattern for buddy sex. I'm admitting to myself it's a little bit of a rush for me being in-charge for once, as the 'top' no less. That's something I've never done before on any kind of a regular basis. Charlie and I more or less took turns being the 'bottom' because we both like that as our first choice. Pony also apparently feels the same way since he said he's never given a thought to 'topping'. He liked getting spanked too, and I felt a slight twinge in my pecker when I was giving his ass those hard smacks. When he asked for more I felt another tiny rush. Yeah, but I'm not even sure I could pull off being dominant, even with Pony. That's assuming we ever get into a real sub/dom relationship with our buddy sex. That'd be something to try though. To be fair, Pony's too inexperienced with sex to know what he likes best. Then there's a situation like I found myself in with Willie. I was very inexperienced when I met him, basically being used by fat Carl. I thought Willie was awesome by comparison. In his uber confident manner he treated me like I was special, so I just followed his lead and accepted my submissive role. Maybe Daryl is in a like position, a similar frame of mind. Hmmm, even if he is I'm not sure I have enough ego to play the dominant role the way Willie played it with me. I think you need to be a little bit of a prick, even a nice prick, to be an effective dom. In any case, it's been a pretty good start with Pony, and it might evolve into something beneficial for both of us. Ha ha, the next time I see him he'll probably have a ping pong paddle telling me it's his turn to 'top'. My musings are interrupted when Robby come bounding out of the club house, giving me a hug, asking, "Dylan, baby, did you see my two home runs?" He's always very upbeat, effervescent even, after playing a baseball game, or even practicing. He takes it up a notch if he's had an especially good game, and two home runs is a damn good game. I take his baseball cap and put it on my head, saying, "Dammit, I got here too late! I missed your home runs. Did you pimp the home runs by tossing the bat and watching the ball leave the ballpark?" He laughs, "Jesus, no! Ya can't get away with the Ortiz Big Papi act in college baseball. I sprinted around the bases." Then, "Are you planning on stealing my hat?" I go, "No, I just want to wear it for a little bit. Is this the one Frankie stole from you?" We start walk towards the parking lot with Robby saying, "Christ no. That hat's gone forever I'm afraid. She won't give it up." I mutter, "Beth's got my hat too." Actually it was Ryan's hat originally. At the pickup I give Robby the keys and he says, "Beth doesn't have your hat anymore. She lost it at the frat party." I'm like, "My hat? She lost it?" He nods, "Yeah, I'm afraid so." That pisses me off! I get in the passenger seat muttering, "That bitch," and Robby goes, "It wasn't even your hat, babe. She felt bad about it. We went back and looked for it and everything." I'm bullshit mad about her losing the hat, but I'm not going to make a big deal out of it with Robby; it's not his fault. It was a symbol, a memento, of my summer with Ryan and, goddammit, I liked that fuckin' hat. I should have got it back that first day she took it. Robby drives us off campus at a little before five o'clock. He asks, "What'd you do after you dropped me off at the ballpark this afternoon?" Forcing myself not to pout about the hat, I go, "Well, I gave a couple of guys guy' s haircuts. That Daryl kid, the one with the three inch fright wig, wanted a buzz cut and he sure looks better with it. And then the other guy wanted a regular haircut. It was, Steve Church, Ryan's roommate. After that I sort of just hung around the apartment, losing track of the time." Robby pulls into our apartment complex, asking, "Where's your other boyfriend been hiding?" I go, "Ryan's not my boyfriends, Rob, you are. I only have one, and I haven't heard a peep from Ryan since the class we had Friday morning. He didn't even go to the frat party." Robby mumbles, "He's just about the only one who didn't go. That place was a madhouse by the time I left. You missed the commotion by leaving early." I'm like, "I didn't leave that early! It was after one o'clock and, as you'll remember, you and I started front loading at seven o'clock, which means seven hours of drinking beer. Plus, I couldn't find either you or Chubby." He looks at me smiling, saying, "I wasn't being critical about you leaving early, Dylan. I was telling you that later about fifty or sixty drunk guys and girls showed up from one of the other frat houses, and things got like jungle land." Whatever the fuck that means. But wait! I'm not mad at Robby! I admit, "I was too defensive, huh?" He reaches over and rubs my head, knocking his hat off, saying, "You're perfect as far as I'm concerned." Inside the apartment we both get a beer and have a smoke on the balcony. Robby's in a great mood telling me all about the game: out by out, hit by hit, run by run, and he's touchy/feeling while doing it. I like when he squeezes my shoulder or pats my chest emphasizing something significant that happened during the game, and it's not just about his play. He gets excited about every outstanding play in the game, spreading the praise around to his teammates. Mostly I stare at him with a grin on my face because I love seeing him this happy and excited. Official Fall baseball practice begins Monday and goes on for three weeks. Because of the dicey weather conditions for this area, it's unsure how much practice they'll get in next March, so they do what they can now. Finished our beers, Robby shivers, saying, "Let's go inside, babe, it's getting cold out here." I say, "Yeah, this time of year when the sun goes down you really feel the chill." As we're going inside Robby gets a phone call from Danny. He sits at the kitchen bar as those two go over play after play, most of which I just heard about outside from Robby. Okay that gets a little tedious, so I wander into our bedroom and fire up my laptop to answer emails. I write a long one to Dodger trying to talk him out of reenlisting. His enlistment is up the middle of May and I want him home. Connor gets out then too, but I know he's not reenlisting. He's going back to college here at Merrimack. Then I send Connor an email encouraging him to keep the pressure on Dodger not to reenlist. Halfway through my email to Connor, Robby comes in the bedroom and, while undressing, he asks, "Do you wanna jump in the shower with me, Dylan?" I say, "Not this time, Rob, I wanna finish my emails." He waves, "Okay, babe," and disappears into the bathroom. After writing those two emails I feel a little emotional because I love both of those guys and miss them a lot. Dodger claims he doesn't want to go to college, and he doesn't want anything to do with Dickers and Son, so he might as well reenlist. His father alienated Dodger by leaving the 'S' off the name of the firm. I'm convinced of that. Flopping on the bed I answer some text messages with hopefully funny responses, and then call my mom. Oh my God, you'd think I just returned from a two year dangerous trip to Mars or something. She's very excited about my call. Ya know, it makes me get a tear in my eye at how easy it is to make my Mom happy. She loves when I call home, but in my defense our college is only an hour's drive from Framingham, and I've only been gone a week, and this is my second phone call home. I shouldn't have a guilty conscience about neglecting my Mom. Anyway, I only get to tell her a couple of things about what happening here before she takes over our conversation telling me about her and Tris eating out with their fiancés, and what everyone ordered for dinner, and how delicious it was, and how the guys spoil them by spending too much money eating at fancy restaurants. So that takes a while, and then I get to hear the funny things that happened at the restaurant where Mom and Tris waitress. The funny things actually aren't very funny, not to guys under the age of twenty-two. Her so-called funny things are actually antidotes at best, deserving of more like a groan than a laugh, but I chuckle along with mom. It's a fifteen minute conversations before I'm saved by the beeping on mom's phone indicating another call for her. Probably Tris, God bless her! We say goodbye and afterwards I give myself a pat on the back for not once acting irritated during our conversation. I love her to death, but our worlds are so completely different they're best shared in small doses. I'm lying on my back with my cellphone on my chest enjoying being happy. It's great to feel happy without any major concerns. Happiness is often taken for granted and only really missed during troubled times. I'm giving happiness it's due even though I do have that one niggling concern in the back of my mind about Ryan. It's a recurring concern that's pops-up in my mind at the weirdest times. I believe what Chubby told me during our talk, but I can't lose the feeling I'm abandoning a friend I've loved. On the other side of the coin, he's ignoring me. Also there's the possibility that Chubby's right about me leaving Ryan alone to sort out his own confusions about... well, about whatever his problem is. In other words, Chubby thinks there's a chance leaving Ryan alone is the best thing I can do for him right now. It's just that Ryan's and my vast history together isn't something I can just discard like an empty Coke can. And then there's the extraordinary sex we've had together. As far as pure sexual heat goes, nobody can create it in me like Ryan. He's always known how to push the right buttons with me. Right now the thought of him giving me his dominant specialty Marietta haircut and then a hard rough fuck makes my dick get hard. If he'd contact me, I'd have an excuse to, um,; I mean a justification to tell Chubby why I reconnected with Ryan. Without him reaching out to me though, I feel I've got to follow Chubby's advice. It's Robby's advice too of course, but he has a vested interest in my relationship where Chubby doesn't, so my brother's opinion on this matter carries more weight. As the noise of the shower cuts out, I realize I just was thinking about me and Ryan, but without our sex together being the first thing I thought of. Huh, I wonder if that's meaningful enough to counter Chubby's logic. Nah, it's actually an anomaly that I'd think of Ryan's and my sex second. Usually I think of it first, then wonder what Ryan's problems are. Chubby would think that a flimsy excuse to backtrack on what we talked about. And, I don't know why this thought hasn't occurred to me before, but I should be pissed-off at Ryan for ignoring me. Yeah, I should be! Instead I pine for him and feel bad for him. What a wuss I am at times. Fuck it, I'm leaving things status quo unless Ryan does something dramatic, like pleads for me to hang-out with him. Something along those lines. Robby comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, and a big a cloud of steamy moist air following him. He has his awesome smile working, as he says, "You are the best looking fiancé in America, Dylan, but why the serious expression? What were you thinking about ?" I sit up, dropping my feet over the side of the bed, asking, "Are we still fiancés?" He's combing his hair, saying, "In my mind, yes we are. So what were you thinking?" I shrug, "Ya know, it's Ryan again. He's like a hermit. I was just wondering why he doesn't text or call me." Robby turns his head to look at me, asking, "When I ask what you're thinking and it's about him, did you ever think to tell me something like, oh it's nothing important, instead of the truth. I'd be so much happier if you weren't thinking about him, and moping around because he ignores you." Huh! Yeah, I see what he means. Getting up and going over to Robby, I put my arms around his waist, and say, "From now on that's what I'll do, Rob. I'll lie." He says, "Only lie when you're thinking about him and I ask what you're thinking about. The rest of the time, don't lie." I go, "Okay, boss," and we kiss on the lips, then Robby grins, asking, "Have you noticed how I'm super clean and you're sweaty and not super clean, and yet you're hugging me?" I nod, "Yeah, I noticed that, and I noticed you smell good. What kind of bath gel is that?" He puts his arms around my neck, his face close to mine, saying, "It's not a gel, per se. The full name is, Dove's Men+Care, Extra Fresh Body Wash." I go, "Oh, that's what I thought it was. It's very nice," and he hugs me tighter chuckling, our faces side by side, as he murmurs, "You smell better sweaty than I do just after showering." I'm rubbing the side of my face against his, "I can feel your beard a little." He chuckles again, then lets me go, asking, "What's for dinner?" Taking the comb from him, I comb a pompadour at the front of his hair, saying, "We're having roast beef. Well it's half a roast beef because I froze half for another dinner. So, we're having roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, baby sweet peas and a fresh garden salad." He says, "Oh no, not that again!" We laugh and rub our hands on each other's body, then his cellphone rings. Robby gets serious, saying, "I'm expecting a call from Dad. I gotta take this," and he gets his cellphone off the bureau, "Hello," then, "Hi, Dad," and I go into the bathroom and clean up, deciding I'll shower tomorrow morning. Damn, we almost had ourselves an extemporaneous afternoon fuck. I'm thinking it's going to feel extra sexy being Robby's bottom after me, of all people, was the 'top' earlier today with Daryl. I really like this idea of mixing up 'top' and 'bottom' sex; 'top' with Pony and 'bottom' with Robby. No way would I even consider giving up being the submissive bottom for Rob. Oh man, that's the best sex I have, period! Sure, Ryan has gotten me hotter and more turned-on, sometimes to the extent that I'm groveling for it, but that's sex for sex's sake. With Robby and me there are layers to our sex, all kinds of special meanings, the greatest of all being our love for each other. There can at other times be traces of sub/dom sex with Robby too, or it could be hard fast fucking to achieve a fast climax, or just screwing around sex like we almost did a few minutes ago. Most of all it's sex between lovers, and nothing else can match that for intensity and meaningfulness. It's such a beautiful thing, it's sick! Oh well, Rob will be talking business with his Dad for at least another half hour, so I begin preparing dinner while drinking a bottle of ginger ale that I found way in the back of the refrigerator. Robby eventually gets off the phone and we have dinner, after which we straighten up the kitchen. We then snuggle together on the sofa watching Sunday Night Football. It's a one-sided game so after the third quarter we turn it off and get ready for bed. Lights out with both of us under the covers wearing boxer shorts. I'm lying next to Robby without touching him, and he goes, "What are you doing way over there?" I slide over two inches and Robby wraps his arms around me, saying, "Turn around so I can see your cute face," and when we're face to face, he murmurs, "I love you," and we kiss a sexy open mouth kiss. I get a shiver running down my spine because over the past nine months or so I've developed this incredible thing for Robby. It's not something you can plan, It has to happen on its own and, oh man, did it ever happen! He can make me feel weak with desire at times, even when he isn't trying. It's like a hero worship I have for him now. I think he's the most magnificent person in the world, and the love I feel for him is scary. I'd do anything for him. Actually I think we reversed positions in that regard. He used to say he loved me more than I loved him, but it's become the other way around they past six months or so. I'm like stupid ga-ga over him and he doesn't always know what to make of it; not yet anyway. Squirming against his body, his hands all over me, we make-out, which always gets me tremendously aroused. Everything about Robby excites me, and that's intensified significantly since I returned from Georgia. I can't pinpoint the exact moment I felt a change; it just happened. Now it's like Robby thrills me. He's somehow reached that perfect level of being in-charge and it clicked with me perfectly like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle; perfect fit! It's nothing we've spoken of or even acknowledge. He probably doesn't even realize it happened, but he's exceeded my adjusted expectations of him growing into the head-of -(-he- out)-household role. He more than matches my fantasy of the perfect lover and partner for life; the one I've always dreamed of. I think Robby does almost everything close to the way I've visualized it for years, plus he's so fucking good looking, and now with his sexy beard growing in, I could wet my pants just looking at him and knowing he's mine. He pulls my boxer shorts down as I try not to pant with desire. Robby can read my little whimpers of desire and body language well enough to know I need him now. He quietly murmurs, "Soon, baby, calm down a little bit, okay?" I don't like being so needy for him, but I'm holding on to him, hugging around his neck, while he's trying to free one of his arms to get his hard cock out through the slit in his shorts. We're face to face, both of us sitting up. I have my legs on either side of him with my arms around him, basically sitting on his lap facing him. He frees an arm, so I move mine to around the back of his neck. I'm rubbing the side of my face against his cheek, my boner throbbing and sticking up between us. Kissing and licking near his ear, he whispers, "Lift your ass, Dylan," and when I do he guides his boner's head to my asshole and I sit down on it, but just enough to take the fat bulbous head of his boner inside me. We both blow out a loud exhale, then our mouths come together and, as we kiss, I slowly slide down his fat boner until I'm sitting on his lap for real, fully impaled. We make out for a couple of minutes, then Robby gently slides me off to the side. His boner pulls from my ass, but only for a few second. "Scrunch down, babe." On my knees, I drop my head to my forearms that are lying flat on the mattress, and stick my ass up for Robby to mount. He murmurs, "Can you lift you your ass a little more?" As I do that he gets behind me on his knees, then pushes his cock tightly back up inside my rectum and both of us moan, "Mmmm, oooh." Robby asks, "Feels good, huh, Dylan?" I gasp, "Uh huh," and he grabs my hips and begins a hard fast fucking that immediately has me whining out moans of pleasure. It's a damn good thing we're not sharing the apartment with Chubby this year because I can't keep my pleasure moaning quiet; not this year when I'm having sex with Robby. With Robby growing into perfection before my eyes, he's taking me to new heights of sexual pleasure. It's him, it's the way he looks, his voice that I loved to hear, his face and scent, and mostly his love. I'm not worthy, but I can't get enough of it all. We both know our roles now, they're finally well established. It's understood Robby's the man in charge, he's the 'top' and I'm his 'bottom'. I'm his bottom who is happily submissive to him, but in both cases it subtle. He's subtly the boss and I'm subtly submissive; there's nothing especially obvious about any of it, although Robby and I know. For me I get a delicious squirmy feeling low in my belly knowing Robby's the man. It feels good knowing he can handle whatever needs handling in our lives now, and when we're married. I don't believe very many of our friends notice Robby's in-charge demeanor because, like I said, it's subtle. I expect in time Chubby and our parents will recognize it, subtle or otherwise. How could they not? I mean, hell, Robby's already a businessman. He told me something one night a couple of weeks ago. We were drinking beers just the two of us and he told me he earned over twenty thousand dollars last summer. That's going towards the down payment on our condo, and he confided in me that there's another forty thousand dollars in an account his parents have contributed to since he was a baby, plus he'll make more money next summer. How many twenty-one year old prospective married couples can start with that kind of nest egg? Anyway, I'm not thinking of that now. It's just a small part of the reason I have so much respect for Robby; respect to go along with my love for him. Like I said, he's my lover and my hero. Robby fucking me is the apex of sex for me. Nothing is as good as this. His hard fat cock humps back and forth in my ass with Robby slapping the side of my butt cheek every five or six hard penetrations. The nerve ending around my anus and the pulsing pleasure factory of my prostate are going wild, and I'm biting my pillow in between moans of pleasure. All through the sex my love and admiration for Robby mixes with the incredible sensations his cock is creating inside me. That combination adds up to ecstasy for me. Hard fast fucks like this one bring on quick orgasms, so I'm grateful to last as long as I did. Almost five minutes of sexual ecstasy before my climax overwhelms my senses and my body gets stiff as my back arches. With visions of an exploding supernova in my brain, I squeal humping my hips and, KABOOM! cum shoots from my granite-boner in a long stream that hits my pillow just below my chin and leaves me shaking with pleasure. And again cum shoots out, then again as I tremble and my body begins relaxing. The buzzing after effects of orgasm sizzle around my pelvic area and then begin fading away completely as Robby humps against my buttocks grunting and filling me up with his load of spunk. A big creamy load of semen. He gasps and lies on my back still humping against my ass, but lazily now. Our hearts pound as we take a minute to catch our breath with tiny vibrations left over from the volcanic orgasmic eruption tantalizes me for a second more, and then, "Oh my God," from Robby as he pulls his cock from my ass. He smacks my ass once and, with an arm around my side, pulls me over. My back is against his chest as we lay lie spooned together taking a few more deep breaths. I finally say, "Rob, that was spectacular . I feel I should thank you, but that'd be creepy, wouldn't it?" He licks the back of my neck, mumbling, "Yeah, that would be a little creepy, so lets not thank each other for doing what we want, need, and mutually love doing." I grin to myself, mumbling, "That speech was a little creepy too." He pulls me over on my back as he goes up on an elbow looking down at me smiling, and saying, "Jesus, maybe we're both a little creepy." I smile, "Yeah, we probably are, but no one needs to know that except you and moi." Robby leans down kissing my lips, saying, "It'll be another one of our secrets." Reaching up I get a fistful go his hair and pull his head down until our lips just touch again, then murmur, "You're my hero." With his lips moving on mine, he mumbles, "That's one more nail in our creepy coffin," and we kiss with lots of tongue. We stay up late goofily saying creepy sentiments of love in between kissing and rubbing each other's body. No worries about staying up late as our first class Mondays isn't until one o'clock. Later Robby fucks me slowly for ten or twelve minutes before I climax again almost fainting from the overflow of emotions my orgasm represents. Not too long after our lover's sex we fall asleep in each other's arms. My happiness reaches a level I'm not sure is sustainable, but I'm hoping... 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 usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you. Donny Mumford ======================================================== Please consider a tax deductible donation of any size to nonprofit Nifty to help with the expense of maintaining this ginormous free story site. Thank you very much. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html