Date: Tue, 24 Jan 2017 22:23:33 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE  Chapter  26

DYLAN'S  JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE


Chapter  26


by  Donny Mumford


Obviously  Rob's not serious about having sex here in Ken's parking lot, so
I ask, "Where  we going for real?" He says, "If you don't mind, let's check
out  the reservoir." As he's backing-out of the parking spot I slide across
 the bench seat and put my arm across his shoulders, snuggling up against
him. He stops the pickup and looks at me with a questioning expression on
his  face, and I go, "Let's be retro tonight and drive the way high school
kids drove circa the nineteen-fifties." Rob goes, "No, I don't think so. And
how  do you know what they did back then?" "I saw it in a Turner  Classic
movie. Not the whole movie, but the part where  this cool-looking, bad-ass,
high school guy with a cigarette between  his lips had his elbow out the window
racing another car to a  cliff. His girlfriend sat right next to him with
her arm  around the guy's shoulders."

Rob looks  at me, slowly shaking his head, mumbling, "Yeah, well this thank
God  this isn't the fifties! Get your ass over in the shotgun seat and  put
your seatbelt on." I'm like, "No! They didn't have seat belts in those
days. They apparently didn't have air conditioning either because all the  cars
had the windows down." He laughs, "C'mon, get over there." I slide over,
mumbling, "Again with the disrespectful attitude." He looks concerned,  "Are
you serious? I didn't mean..." and I go, "I'm kidding you! But,  hmmm... now
I have a secret weapon for whenever I don't like something I'll  accuse you
of being disrespectful." He mutters, "Don't joke about me being
disrespectful, Dylan, we had our first fight about that."

Rob's a  serious guy at heart, a very sincere person basically, so I won't
tease him by using the disrespect card. That would be taking advantage of
him, which I won't do, even though it'd be fun. Nah, I click on my seatbelt
and change the subject, "Are you under the impression I don't like  the
reservoir spot, Rob, because...?" He goes, "Nooo, I know you like  it... that's
why I choose it." He grins at me, "To please you, baby." He pulls  into
traffic as I go, "Huh! Ya know, I never thought I'd like  being calling 'babe'
or 'baby', but I do like it when it's coming from you.  Nobody else is
allowed to call me that though." Yeah, except Ryan  often called me that in
Georgia which didn't freak me out because  somehow he made it sound like a
nickname. When Robby calls me  that it feels like a term of endearment, and that's
sweet. When you  get right down to it, 'babe' and 'baby' are probably the
only sweetheart  names we could get away with. Certainly not 'pumpkin',
'honey', 'sweetie' or any  number of other sappy words heterosexuals use for
terms of  endearment. 'Babe' and 'baby' are even used by straight guys  calling
a friend or teammate that. Not as a term of endearment obviously.  Then
there's the Baby Ruth candy bars that somehow came about because  of Babe Ruth,
the super baseball player from the thirties; the one  with the pot belly who
hit sixty home-runs one year.

Driving  on route 9 east, Rob says, "A dollar for your thought," and I go,
"I was  still thinking about you calling me, 'babe' or 'baby' and how it
sounds okay coming from you." He goes, "We call teammates weirdly affection
names at times too. When I call you 'baby' though it's with all  the
affection I have for you in my heart." I go, "Oooh, I  know that and it's kinda
nice, but we're getting sappy again." He shrugs, and I  add, "Not that I care.
It's just the two of us here so we can be as  mushy and sappy as we want in
our private world." Rob's thinking, then he  mumbles, "Yes, our private
world," then he glances at me, and says, "Now  that I think about it though, it
wouldn't sound right you calling me 'baby',  private world or not. Why is
that?" I go, "Huh! Yeah, I'm not sure why, but  you're right." He shrugs,
muttering, "That's odd." I try it out, "You're driving  really well, baby," and
we both go, "Noooo! That don't work!  Creepy!!"

Ten  minutes later the pickup's bouncing onto a gravel road leading to
Reservoir  Road. A half mile later Rob turns onto the reservoir's dirt road  and
we pass the 'DO NOT ENTER/ROAD CLOSED' sign, then go  over the chain that
used to block further entry. The pickup's headlights  shine out over the edge
of the reservoir fifty yards in front of  us, and when Rob turns the
headlights sweep over the area and we see we're  alone, which is a first  for us
here. Rob comes to a stop and turns off the headlights, but leaves the
engine running. The rain clouds that dropped an inch of rain on us this
afternoon have drifted away and the moon and stars shine brightly in the night  sky.

Rob mumbles, "Clear night, babe," and I go, "Uh huh, full moon too." We
undo our seat belts and he slides over away from the steering wheel, saying,
"Okay, now what was it the girls did in the fifties with their boyfriends?"

I put my arm across his shoulders, and tell him, "The girlfriend almost
sits on the guy's lap, but maybe that only applies when participating in a
drag  race toward a cliff and certain death." He asks, "Did they go over the
cliff?" I  shake my head, "Nah, one of the drivers chickened-out. I forget
what happened  after that. There was a kid on a scooter who I think might have
been gay.  Basically they couldn't make movies worth a shit back then. They
didn't  even use profanity, which is so phony." Pretending it's a serious
question, Rob asks, "Did they fuck in old movies?" I go, "God forbid! No, of
course not. They barely kissed." He mumbles, "Well that blows."

My arm  moves off Rob's shoulder to go around the back of his neck and,
pulling his  head over, I press my face against the side of his head, murmuring
in his  ear, "I can hardly believe how enormously aroused you make me, Rob.

You smell  sexy-good too." I take a deep inhale, "Mmmmm." His arm goes
behind my waist and  he hugs me as I hug his neck, then give the side of his
forehead a ten  second kiss. He murmurs, "You're going to make me cry the way
you love me so  much. I feel your love more than ever and it  means more to
me than I can say. I really don't know what I've done  to deserve your extra
love, but it makes my heart glow and I need to pinch  myself to be sure I'm
not fantasizing about you again." I lift my left leg over  his legs and sit
on his lap facing him, then kiss his lips and quietly say, "I  don't know
what it is exactly either, Rob. It's everything about you; an  accumulation of
the sweet forgiving love you've shown me over the past  three-plus years.

It just hit me one day, 'BANG!' and I've been helplessly  attracted to you
ever since. I love you so much it's stupid." He  snorts out a chuckle, then we
kiss a long sloppy kiss. After a few more  kisses, I lie against him with
the sides of our faces touching as I  murmur, "I wish I could cuddle with you
like this for hours and  hours every day on some desert island of our own.
Just you and  me."

We sit  silently for a few minutes: me on his lap, a knee on either side of
him,  my chest against his, my forehead on his shoulder, the sides of our
heads together and Rob's arms around me. I can't snuggle against his  strong
body enough to suit me. Finally Rob quietly asks, "Um,  does your
extra-strong love for me have anything do with Frankie?" Lifting  my head off his
shoulder, I look him in the eyes, "No, I don't think so. Why  would you even
mention her name?" He shrugs, and I add, "I think it's just you,  Rob, the boy
who's turned into a young man before my eyes. It's everything about  you.

And fuck bringing Frankie into the discussion, if you don't mind  me saying
so." Rob sort of looks startled at that. So I add, "I swear to  God, lately I
get sexy shivers just watching you do something,  do anything. You're
perfect in my eyes." He looks down taking a deep  breath, then mumbles, "I'm very
far from perfect, Dylan. You're much closer  to perfection than me." I go,
"To me you're perfect," He shakes his head, "No,  I'm not! And, Goddammit, I
need to confess something that's been very  fucking troubling to me." I
lean my forehead against his, murmuring,  "No..., you don't need to do any such
thing." He says, "Yeah, I do."  Wondering what the fuck is it now, I pull
my head back as Rob shakes  his head, muttering, "This is hard." I go, "Then
tell me later, Rob. I  don't need to hear it now... or ever for that
matter." I wanted a romantic  evening, not true confessions that I could do myself
for hours on end.  Nobody needs that...

Rob  thinks about it a second, then mumbles, "No, I need to clear  my
conscience." I blow out my cheeks, exhaling noisily, muttering, "Go  ahead then."

Even though Rob and I have agreed not to share side-sex  experiences with
one another, I am kind of interested. I'm curious as  to which one of his
teammates is gay and became attracted to Rob.  It's not common at all, and a
long shot Rob and Danny connected like they did.  Rob nods, "Yeah, well. Oh
Jesus! Um, first of all, I wasn't playing  XBOX before I got home this
afternoon." he takes another deep breath, then says,  "I wanted to get it out of
the way and be done with it." I'm like "You wanted to  quick the XBOX
competition?" He makes a face, muttering, "That too, but  what I'm referring to is
Frankie and I experimenting with, um, sex, um I  mean fucking. We did it
right after Friday's class. I wanted her to stop  reminding me we need to try
it." Holy shit!
Now I'm  paying attention, "She was getting on my nerves about it, and I
wanted to  put it behind me. She, I don't know, but it's different trying to
deal  with a girl. I mean, we gave up on making-out together, which didn't
come close to getting me aroused. I told you about that. I  kinda thought
that would be the end of that, but she  kept encouraging me to give sex a try."

I go, "The bitch!" He shakes his  head, "No, she's okay. I think she
thought she was helping me learn about  myself, at least that's what she kept
telling me, or some such shit like that.  She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer
and I didn't want to insult her further. I  mean, I think she was hurt when
the making-out was such a disaster. Anyway, she  thought if she sucked my
cock we'd be able to try it... try fucking, I  mean."

He's  rubbing his face, so I ask, "Well, did it work?" He shrugs, "Not at
first,  no. She was giving it a good try alright, but it wasn't working until
 I looked down at her blond hair and pretended she was you. To make a  long
story short I finally got a boner, she quickly put a condom on my dick  and
I fucked her. She got stupidly aroused, groveling under me moaning and
saying dumb encouraging stuff until I finally had  a half-hearted climax and
pulled out, disgusted with myself but glad it was  over once and for all." I
ask, "So you didn't like it, huh?" He shakes his  head, "Um, it was really
different and I did climax, but it didn't feel right to  me. There's a bone or
something in her twat that really stimulates a cock.  I don't know what it
was, but it was way different! So, I  needed to confess that to you, and I
just did, so... that's it." I mutter,  "Ewww," and he says, "It was so phony
of me to try sex with a girl. It wasn't  fair to Frankie, you, or me. She
got pissed-off at my reaction and we had this  big fucking argument. That's
why I was bitchy to you about the dry-cleaning  and everything when I got
home. I feel ashamed about everything  about that  so-called
curiosity-experiment. I have less than zero curiosity left  about anything to do with sex. I
knew what I wanted before I started that, and  it's you I've always wanted,
now and forever."

He  didn't look at me once while telling me all that. I guess that's part
of  the reason why his sex with me seemed so desperate three or four  hours
after he did it with her. To prove something to himself maybe. The poor  guy.

I'm not sure what to say because I'm strangely not pissed-off about  it.

Maybe because it was such a colossal failure, and he wore a  condom, and he
confessed to me the same day it happened, and he  obviously feels terrible
about it. The best part for me is hearing they had  a big fight afterwards. Heh
heh, too bad, bitch! Robby goes, "Please say  something, Dylan," so I ask,
"If you did it right after your morning class,  what'd you do between then
and seeing me at the apartment like four hours  later?" He still won't look
at me, as he mumbles, "Well, like I  said, Frankie and I had a shouting
match, but mostly I was really pissed  off at myself. I felt manipulated and
stupid. Storming out of her dorm I  was fucked-up in the head so I stayed in the
library thinking about what I  did and why I did it. I'd like to blame it
all on her, but it was a joint  fuck-up, no pun intended. Two nitwits doing
it for completely opposite  reasons. I thought I wanted my curiosity
satisfied, but our failed  make-outs already pretty much satisfied my curiosity
about me, girls, and  anything to do with sex. I guess Frankie wanted to convert
me to her  side of the street so she kept pressuring me to try fucking. Oh,
and I  forgot to tell you the most evil part. The part that made me feel
stupid.  During our fight she screamed an admission that she, Frankie, had a
bet with Beth that she could entice me into switching boyfriend,  um,
girlfriends... oh fuck! You know what I mean: get me to give up  you for her." I
mutter, "That cunt! And it was all about winning a bet?  That's sick, and I
don't believe her anyway. She wanted you."

Rob  slowly lifts his eyes to look into mine, meekly saying, "You're, um,
being awfully calm about this," and I say, "I feel bad for you, Rob. Mostly
because you feel so bad about it yourself. And I'm glad you found out what
you  were curious about, and mostly I'm glad that you're done with it now."

He  mutters, "I wanted to be done with it weeks ago, but Frankie..." I go,
"To  hell with her. You satisfied your curiosity." He frowns, "Yeah, I
did... more than satisfied it actually. And you say you've never  been curious
about what it'd be like having sex the way ninety percent of  humanity does
it? With the opposite sex, I mean." I shrug, "Nope, I  never thought about it,
but that's just me. After fat Carl 'outed' me  I gave it a lot of thought
and concluded I've always been  strictly interested in guys. Chubby and I led
a life of almost isolated  solidarity throughout our early years of
puberty... just the two of us  for years. We had friends, but we always hung-out
together. Mostly  because of the unique situation we were in of mostly raising
 ourselves. I never thought about girls, ever. Then I interacted with some
girls  during my lost summer with Ray and the posse boys learning that girls
can be  cool too, but not sexually. It's like I never thought about girls
sexually  any more than I  thought about, um, being a bank robber or a
garbage collector. Some things  you just don't think about. Different things for
different people."

I'm  still facing him, sitting on his lap and now running my fingers  back
through the longish hairs on top of his head. He finally asks, "So  you're
not royally pissed-off and disgusted with me?" I grin, saying,  "Let's not
get carried away..." and he goes, "No, seriously," and I say, "I already told
 you; I feel bad for you. The fact you have a huge guilty conscience about
it  factors in as well." He mumbles, "I couldn't wait to have sex with you
to, um,  feel real again. I'm sorry Frankie thinks it was insulting to her,
but I was  basically repulsed by the sex. During our fight afterwards I told
her I needed  to think of you in my head to complete the act." I go, "You
told her that?"  and he's like, "Yeah, after she told me the only thing she
was interested  in was winning the bet with Beth. Wow, I can't remember anyone
as angry and  insanely pissed-off as she got when I told her about closing
my eyes and  pretending it was you." I snicker with delight and he grins,
saying, "Yeah, I  thought for a second there Frankie and I were going to have
an  actual physical fight." Hmmm, wouldn't that have been something.

Frankie has no idea what ferocity lies under Rob's normal demeanor. Then,  unable
to pass up an opportunity for alliteration, I mutter, "It was all about
bitchy Beth's bet, huh?" Rob snorts out a chuckle, and I go, "Like I  said, I
think she's full of shit about that though. She may have had a bet,  but she
was primarily after you and when you rejected her, only  then did she says
it was all about the bet. By then she was into face-saving  mode." Rob
shrugs, "Well, she was one pissed off bitch, I know that much!" and  we both
laugh. Rob goes, "We did not leave as friends I can tell you  that much." Ooooh,
that's a shame...

Finally  I say, "Is there any more to tell?" He goes, "Jesus, isn't that
bad enough?" I  nod, "Yeah, I wonder if they'll be fallout from Francesca?" He
goes, "I  won't be surprised if my pickup truck's tires get slashed, but
other than that I  don't know what to expect. She really turned vicious." I
go, "Yeah, a woman  scorned, or some such shit." Rob frowns, "What's that
mean?" I go, "I'm not  sure, but it sounds good. I heard it some where." He
shakes his head, half  grinning, "You're something, babe." I go, "Heh heh, I'm
something all right.  Anyway, none of this is so hideous you need to continue
beating  yourself up about it, Rob. She's the one who pushed the project,
so to speak. If  you ask me, she had a lot of fucking nerve getting pissed at
you because  you didn't like sex with her. For chrissakes you told her we
were gay  lovers the first day she pulled that phony fan club shit." Rob's
feeling  better, "Yeah, you're right, Dylan." I go, "Here's what I think:
Frankie  and Beth started out with a crush on you, for which I don't blame
them, but then they turned it into a plot where Frankie lures you to  the other
side. She apparently thinks she's irresistible even to gay  guys. She likes
baseball, gets her hair cut sort of like mine, and figures she  could be
your boyfriend and girlfriend wrapped-up in one." He nods, "That's  what I
think too." I shrug, "Well there you go. Don't waste your pity on  her! As for
me, it's well known I'm one of the world's most forgiving  boyfriends. I'm
willing to chalk it all up to a blown side-sex  attempt; nothing more and
nothing less. The only mistake you made was breaking  our code by discussing
that rather unfortunate side-sex with me." He snorts  out a chuckle, adding, "I
thought this might qualify as a unique case of  side-sex, one that I should
probably tell you about." I say, "Well you did,  and now I hope we can put
this tawdry topic away forever." He goes, "Okay  by me, but I still wonder
what she might do about it." I go, "I'll put my  brother on her case. He'll
squash repercussions from her, or he'll  squash her." Robby's like, "Jesus,
don't tell Jeff, or anyone else." I go,  "No? Okay, but she'll probably be
blabbing all over the place." He  mumbles, "If  she does I'll deal with it
then." I'm like, "On the other hand, why would  she want to advertise her
failure?" He shrugs, "Who knows with girls."  I'm like, "You know what you should
have done," Rob shakes his head, and I go,  "Rolled her over and fucked her
up the ass. She wanted to be like me, so..." He  shakes his head being
serious, "Somehow I still feel bad for  her."

There  doesn't seem to be anywhere to go from here on that topic, so I
slide off Rob's  lap, saying, "Let's have a  smoke outside and ServPro this
entire topic." I'm opening the door as Rob asks, "ServPro, whaddaya mean?" I
go,  "You don't know about the ServPro cleaning service? Their motto is,
'We'll clean it up like it never even happened!' or words to that  effect. They
clean-up after a fire or flood, and other messes like  that. You and I need
to start this evening over as if this  discussion and the reason for it
never even happened." Shivering in the  chill of a November night in
Massachusetts, Rob light us two Marlboros  and passes one to me, saying, "ServPro? The
goofy things you come up  with never ceases to amaze me." Taking a drag off
my smoke, I go, "What can I  expect at work tomorrow?" and he laughs out
loud, coughing on his inhaled smoke.  Laughing so hard his eyes are watering.

Finally he goes, "Jesus, that  was a subtle change of topic." I go, "About as
subtle as a sledge hammer, but  seriously, what will I be doing." He
smirks, saying, "Whatever the fuck I  tell you to do," and I go, "That's the
spirit, boss! Get right back up on that  horse." Rob frowns, muttering, "What
horse?" "Never mind...."

Then we  do talk about what I'll do at work and, from what I can tell, I'll
 apparently be a gofer office-boy running around writing down what the
manager's want for coffee, and then I get the coffees and deliver  them to
whoever.  And then the same for lunch.  When not doing that I'll check with Mr.

Dickers' administrative assistant, and  do whatever she says. When I'm done
that, I'll work on one of the projects  Rob hopes I can do for him so he
doesn't need to do it. He tries explaining a  project, but it's a computer
project and he needs to show me on the computer.  His explanation isn't
computing in my head, ya might say. We stay outside, with  the truck still running,
for ten minutes or so, and when we get back in I tell  Rob, "Seriously, Rob,
I appreciate that you confiding in me about  that disturbing situation. It
did qualify as a unique side-sex experience."  He smiles, "I'm glad I told
you. You're basically the only person  who I care what you think about me.

And thanks for being  so understanding and supportive." Inside we're hugging
to get  warm, the atmosphere now free of confessions.

I ask,  "Hmmm, where were we?" then I mumble, "Oh, yeah," and I sit back on
his lap  facing him. Reaching behind Rob's head I get a fistful of his
longish hair  at the crown of his head, saying, "Now I'm going to ravage your
body." Pulling  his hair, getting his head back, I say, "And I'm starting  my
ravaging with your sexy mouth," and my mouth covers his. Robby gets  his
arms around me and hugs my body against him as we suck on each other's  tongue
and lips, then get into some deep kissing with me going up on my knees  and
kissing down on his rosy lips; lips that  are sexily not too full, and not
too thin. His bright  pink tongue is just right for licking and sucking and
our saliva mixes  and surrounds both out mouths. It all gives me a dreamy
gooey feeling  in my nuts. I'd like to climb inside his body so our blood mixes
 together and our naked hearts beat as one. I'm moving my face  against
his, our noses rubbing, our foreheads rubbing, our chins rubbing until I  stop,
to gasp, "I'm gonna cum." We don't move for a minute, just doing  some deep
breathing. As we wait for my climax sensations to abate we breathe  right
into each other's face, our eyes locked together, our hearts pounding fast
in our chests until, I murmur, "I'm okay, I'm  good."

Rob  takes a gasping breath, saying, "Suck me off, Dylan, I'm getting blue
balls. Please, babe." I nod my head and, as my boner throbs in my pants, I
slide off his lap getting between his legs kneeling on the floor of  the
truck. I unzip his fly, open the button on his khakis and see the head  of his
boner sticking out though the fly of his boxer shorts. The head  is wet
with precum as I fish out the rest of his hard penis and lick  off the precum.

Then suck and tongue the head until Robby, with a  hands on either side of
him, lifts his ass off the seat, going, 'Aaaaa, aaah,  oooh fucccck, that
feels good." I suck most of the shaft into my mouth and lick  it. Then I leave
his boner resting on my bottom teeth as I imitate Daryl's  cock-sucking
technique. Rob lifts himself off the seat again moving his hard  cock on my
teeth, moaning, "Ooooh." A few little humps of his hips and  he climaxes in my
mouth. Cum streams into my mouth, lots of cum as I shake,  gasp, then cum in
my pants. Another long string of cum wets my boxer shorts as I  quietly moan
and rub myself from outside my khaki pants.

Robby's  lying back on the seat taking some deep breaths while I'm  still
on my knees feeling orgasmic sensations zipping around my groin  before
fading out. As climaxes go, this one was not a great one, but then  the worst
climax I've ever had was pretty damn good, and this wasn't even close  to the
worst one. My tongue's moving around my mouth as I suck on my lips  tasting
my boyfriend's semen. "C'mon up and sit next to me, Dylan," as he  holds his
hand down. I take his hand and pull myself off my knees, then  plop down
beside him. Rob wraps me in his arms and kisses the side of my head,
murmuring, "In case you were wondering, you're still gonna get fucked  in this pickup
tonight." I snuggle against him, murmuring, "I loved sucking  your cock,
Rob. And your spunk taste good too." "What's it taste  like?" I shrug, "Tastes
like your cum. Nothing else tastes like it so I can't  compare it to
anything. It's triple-A semen, five-star semen... simply the  best." Rob chuckles,
muttering, "You're really something."

As my  cum cools in my pants, we do some sweet kissing, rubbing our faces
together, our  hand on the back of each other's head, our fingers in the
other's hair. My torso  squirms against his and there is nothing I'd rather be
doing than  this, except what's coming later. After a while we're quiet with
my head on  Rob's shoulder and his arms around me. He breaks the peaceful
silence  pointing out the windshield, quietly saying, "I see your face in the
stars,  Dylan. Look." I look out the windshield and, with pretend
enthusiasm, say,  "Oh my God, see that constellation on the right. It looks exactly
like my  dick." Sitting closely together we make up bull-shit constellations,
"Look,  Rob, there's the outline of your pickup truck!" Or he'll say,
"Dylan, no  shit, look over there. The stars spell out Merrimack," and I'll go,
"Oh  yeah! That's so cool! " We're laughing at our nonsense while  leaning on
each other or squeezing an arm or mussing up the other's hair... ya  know,
constant touching. It's our private world that no one else is allowed  in,
and no one else would understand it anyway. We can act silly  or serious or
however we feel like when we're in this private world of  being together. We
say things we'd never say to anyone else, and do things we'd  never share
with an outsider... and everyone on the planet is an outsider  except us.

We've  been in the car with the engine running and the heater blasting for
over an  hour, but we left Ken's before nine o'clock so it's still only
ten-thirty, and  we're in no rush. We took our jackets off five minutes after
getting  back in the truck after our smokes, and now on a whim I take off my
shirt. Robby says, "Good idea. It's hot in here," and he takes his off
tossing it on top of mine in the back seat. Grinning, we rub our bare chest
together and start another make-out doing it slow, like lover's do it. Not
even hot sub/dom sex, or any other kind of sex arouses me like being  with
Robby. That wasn't always the case but it is now, and it's been pretty much
like this since I returned from Georgia, and especially since we moved in
together at college. I'll get so infatuated by him at times  I can barely catch
my breath. Everything about his body, and  face, and his smell excites me.

His voice makes me  tingle all over at times and I love watching him
concentrate in class, or on the  baseball diamond, or doing anything. And tonight
I'm even more impressed with  him than usual because he told me about his
failed experiment with her, and  how it seems unlikely we'll be seeing those
conniving girls around anymore.  I'll try getting Robby to join Pony and me
with our running. That'll  screw-up my Tuesday and Thursday extracurricular
workout with Daryl,  but we'll find another time for that. Having Rob with me
instead of him  being with those losers playing in the XBOX tournament is
worth rescheduling Daryl's and my extra workouts.

Robby  murmurs, "I have an urge to get naked," and I murmur back at him,
"Go ahead. I  was contemplating the same thing." The inside of the truck is
hot and we're  sweating, but it seems sexy somehow. We undress throwing our
pants, underwear,  socks and shoes go over onto the back seat. I had to peel
off  my boxer shorts, sticky with my own cum. Rob says, "Hey, baby, how about
 getting on my lap like before." I straddle him, my hands holding onto the
back  of his neck as we adjust our positions, getting comfortable. Our
semi-firm cocks  nestled together, the head of mine in Rob's pubic hairs and his
against my  hairless groin next to my scrotum. "This is nice, isn't it,
babe?" I nod,  "The best, Rob," and we lean our bodies together and make-out
some more. I never  get tired of making-out with him. I like holding hands,
making out, laying  together, having sex, and everything else we do together as
long as there's  touching.

It's  silent in the pickup's cab except for our wet mouth sounds. Our eyes
close as we kiss and lick with our cocks again getting harder and  harder.

I've been known to slip into trances when highly  aroused. Being naked with
him as we rub our bodies together, kissing and  licking, our lips and
tongues in constant motion puts me into one of  those dreamy trances. This trance
is filled with love rather than one  that's purely sexual or submissive. Sex
is involved, but love is  dominant among my emotions and it's a beautiful
thing to feel the way I do.  Robby's voice, a voice I'd know if a thousand
people were talking at once,  comes to me from far away as he murmurs, "Lift
up, baby, and ride my  boner." I try opening my eyes but my eyelids feel lazy
and heavy as I lift  up on my knees, putting my forehead against his. Robby
guides his hard cock  to my anus and I lower my ass until I feel his fat
cock's head spreading,  spreading, spreading the lips of my asshole and,
"Ummm, oooh!" it snugly  slides past my sphincter. Robby's body is tense for a
second, them from him  comes a gasping, "Ooooh, that feels good."

Holding  my position a few seconds, then dropping down two inches, my
stretched  rectum complains with some pain. My arms go around the back of Robby's
neck, his  arms around my back hugging me, the sides of our heads tightly
together as  I drop down onto his lap, then hold my breath as lightning goes
off behind my  eyes for a moment and there's silent screaming in my rectum.

I wait for the  pleasure that's coming quickly to the rescue. Rob grunts and
moves  on the seat letting out a gasping breath. Then he rubs the side of
his  head against mine, murmuring, "You okay, babe?" I nod and lift up until
the  bulbous head of his cock distends my anus. Holding there for a second,
then  I slide down again with minimal pain. After doing it again, I take a
deep  breath and begin steadily fucking myself on his cock. As always it
feels  fantastic with my boner bobbing between us and me moaning, "Hmm, hmm,
hmm,"  with every trip down, then up. Fucking this way is one of my favorites.

We don't  do it as often as I'd like, but I prefer Rob choosing our
positions for sex.  Right now we're connected, penis and rectum with so much of our
bodies touching  it's almost like we're one person.

Sometimes  I'll drop down only an inch or so, then lift and drop an inch or
so again,  and do it ten times because the very fat hard smooth head of his
cock is  constantly against my prostate causing me immense pleasure. My
teeth  clenched together as the stimulation on my prostate gland causes a
rushing sensation of impending orgasm. Just before climax though, I  sit all the
way down on his legs to snuggle against him, and to put  a temporary stop
to the climax urge. Indescribably  pleasurable feeling continue as I sit on
his lap impaled by his fat  sex organ. A feeling of oneness and shared sex
and love swarms all over me. When  Rob gets antsy and humps his hips a little
I rise and drop rhythmically for  a minute or two with both of us breathing
loudly in between quiet moans of  sexual pleasure. We can go eight or ten
minutes like this until Rob's  climax sensations are too strong to resist and,
like now as he  gets his arms around my back lifting me a little, then he
holds  me tightly against his chest as his hips explode driving his  boner
back and forth in my ass until I squeal, stiff as a board humping my hips  and
shooting cum out in four quick spurts hitting Rob's bare chest as  he's
pouring his cum up my ass. We're two stiff-bodied lovers in our private  world
of sexual pleasure that last, at its peak,  five to ten seconds. A quick few
seconds of glorious sensations  that dominate every part of us from our
brains to our toes. Spiking  sensations of intense pleasure before we're able
to gasp and relax,  almost stupefied that it could feel that awesome even
though we've felt it  a hundred times before. It's always shocking in only the
best ways  when our orgasmic climaxes sends us momentarily into another
dimension, and then  real life floods back to our consciousness and we once
again appreciate  each other's role in the just completed sexual experience.

There's nothing  like sexual climax for sheer bodily pleasure. Nothing I know
of  anyhow.

We lay  against each other sweating and breathing hard until we both catch
our  breath and our hearts stop trying to beat their way out of our  chests.

Then a wonderful feeling of happiness for being able to bring  pleasure to
one another. Again I become aware of all Rob's  familiar physical
attributes, his attractiveness and scent and the  feel of his body... and the love I
have for him. It's almost surreal  as I'm lazily running my fingers through
his hair again, our sweaty  faces together. I feel the sweat between his arms
and my back and between  the back of his neck and my arms with his cock
still up my ass, and it's  perfection. Ahhh yes, it's perfection. Lifting my
head, I smile, murmuring,  "Nice, Rob. Very nice," and he grins, mumbling,
"This never gets old, does it?"  I shake my head, "No, it doesn't. You say that
every time," and he goes, "No I  don't." We kiss, then I lift up... our
eyes opening wide when his cock flops out  of my ass, and we both go, "Oooh,
fuck," then chuckle.

Rob  mutters, "Boyfriend, this is a messy situation we have here. My cum
from your  ass is drooling out on my legs, and your cum is all over my chest."

 Chuckling, I reach over to the box of tissues in the door's pocket,  I'm
like, "You caused all of it." I grab a bunch of tissues and hold them
against my asshole while swinging my leg over to get off  Rob's lap, and sit down
beside him. We both exhale as he goes, "I gotta say  though, sex with you is
worth the mess, babe. That was awesome!" I ask,  "When do ya think you're
getting the new truck?" That makes us both laugh  out loud at how ludicrous a
non sequitur that was. From great sex to 'when  you getting a new truck?' I
go, "I don't know what made me ask that. Maybe  I was thinking about the
huge number of times we've fucked in this truck,  doing it in every position
we could think of." He goes, "Yeah, remember when I  had you head-first under
the dashboard with me plowing your ass? We got a little  carried away that
night." I'm nodding my head, "Yeah, but seriously, isn't it  fascinating it
never gets old?" Rob nods, "I wonder if it ever will?" I shrug,  "It gets
old for some, hence all the divorces in the world."  Rob's using tissues
wiping some of my cum off his chest, mumbling,  "And in the beginning they
probably never thought it'd get old for them." I say,  "Losers. We're more special
than that, Rob. It's unlikely there are  huge numbers of people who do sex,
and love it, in the amount we do it and  love it." He says, "Yeah, we've
had a good three-year test-run of doing it and  loving it, and yet the
drop-off of pleasure has been zero." I'm like,  "It's better than that! We're doing
it and loving it more than ever before,  and increasing the pleasure. Now,
how about that new truck?" We laugh, then he  says, "No, I'm afraid Dickers
and Son are not incurring any new  expenses until the big job starts
generating revenue."

We go  back to complimenting ourselves for the great sex we have  together.

 We're sexually satisfied, pleased to death that  we're with each other,
but we do eventually run out of things to say  about it. We finally exchange
'looks' and he goes, "Yeah, let's get  dressed." We get dressed in our
sweaty, cum-sticky condition and, after  throwing the used tissues out the window,
Rob drives us safely away from  the reservoir and back onto the blacktop
road we came in on. His  parents are in bed by the time we get home, so we
take separate quick  showers and get in our beds before midnight. Damn good
Friday  night!
Before  sleep I think how Rob felt he owed it to Frankie to try fucking
when she was  actually taking advantage of how nice he basically is. I mean,
after  the unsuccessful make-outs you'd think she'd get the message. Hell
their last make-out Robby broke out laughing saying it just wasn't  working for
him and he was willing to give up the experiment. Not her  though. Then the
fight Frankie and Rob had because he was honest  in telling her she doesn't
arouse him sexually. I can see where that  was a dagger in Frankie's ego.

The thing I don't get is she knew he was gay  from the start so how much of a
super arrogant ego she must  have to think she could change him. Then she
yells at him that it was  all about a bet she had with Beth. I say bull shit
to that. She has, or had, a  thing for Rob and in the end, after her best
efforts, she was rejected and the  venom came out. What she might do now is
anybody's guess. As for me, I  could go with a little less femininity around
the apartment, and a little  more Robby around me.

That's  my last conscious thought before Rob's saying, "Dylan, Dylan wake
up. My eyes  blink open, "What's wrong, Rob?" He grins, "Nothing's wrong. You
gotta get  up for work now." I look out the window and see brightness, and
groan, "You  gotta be shitting me. I fell asleep ten minutes ago." He
chuckles and gets hold  of my wrist pulling me out of bed. He's already dressed.

He says, "I'll see  you downstairs. Five minutes, okay?" I nod, then look at
myself and grin. I'm  wearing pajamas. Well good for me. In the hall bath I
do what I need to,  and then back in my bedroom, er, Dodger's bedroom, I see
Rob's laid out my  clothes. Dry-cleaned khaki pants and button down the
front blue dress  shirt. Huh, and there's the bluish tie I picked out from
Rob's tie  collection yesterday. Finished dressing, I wear the same shoes I had
on last  night and go downstairs practicing a smiley good-morning for his
parents.  Wasted effort though as they've already apparently left. Rob has a
take-out  cup of coffee for me, saying, "C'mon, lets go, babe." I nod sipping
my  too-hot coffee and glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, then
check my  wristwatch because that clock can't be right. But yes, it's five after
six. I  go, "Rob, what the fuck? The meeting's at seven." He goes, "As
owners, Dad  and I want to be the first ones in the office." Oh brother!
Following  him out the back door, I ask, "Your mom's there already too?" He
shakes his  head, "No, she's still sleeping." I'm thinking it's a damn good
thing I had  my PJ's on. She could have wandered out of her bedroom when I
was going to the  bathroom. It's a relatively short ride to work and when we
walk  into the building it's fully lit up at six-twenty. Robby says, "My
office is  around the corner." He's got an office already? I'm like, "You've
got an office  while still in college?" He says, "Sure, and here it is."

Okay, it's an inside  office without a window, but the furniture is brand new.

Wall to  wall commercial type carpeting, but nice looking. There's a small
package  on his desk. There's also a side section to his desk with a computer,
 and a narrow table against the wall. His office also has two guest chairs
in  front of the desk, a land line telephone and a landscape picture on the
wall.  The office looks to be about twelve feet by ten feet. Nothing in
here looks particularly expensive; the furniture is mostly metal and  modern
looking. Not at all like the lavish mahogany furniture you see  in offices for
big shots in the movies. Rob's office looks functional and  it has a name
tag outside the door with his name on it. No title though. I ask,  "What's
your title here at Dickers and Son, Inc.?" He goes, "So far it's,  'son'. Ha
ha, I don't have a title yet. That'll be after I graduate."  Then he snaps
his fingers, "Wait a second. I think this package might be my  business
cards," and he picks up the wrapped box sitting on his desk and  opens it. Taking
out a business card, he says, "Hey, I do have a  title. I'm assistant to the
president. Pretty cool, huh? These cards are  new. First time I've seen
them." Then he goes, "A more accurate title would be  assistant to the
president's administrative assistant, but that's probably too  long for a title."

He's kinda cute with this business rigmarole.

I'm  just smiling and enjoying seeing Rob happy. I go, "Really nice office,
Rob!" He  shrugs, "Thanks. I only saw it for the first time last weekend. I
was  hardly in here at all though because we stayed overnight at the
Westborough job site." I'm nodding, and he says, "Well, let's  get  down to
business. I'm going to print-out your work schedule. By the  way, I'm putting you
on the clock as of six-thirty." He types on the  computer for three
minutes, then hits 'print'. Picking up the printed  paper he shows me my schedule.

6:30 to 7:00... work for Rob. 7:00 to 9:00  work for Admin. Assistant
(Dottie Scouser) 9:00 take coffee orders for  managers and Dottie, then buy
coffees and deliver them. (Try not to take more  than a  half hour) 9:30 to noon
work for Dottie. 12:00 take lunch orders (everyone has a  Domino's menu for
takeout). Buy  lunches and deliver them. Check in with me after that. You
might be working with  Dottie again, or hopefully you'll be working for me.

We'll play it by ear  the rest of the day (probably until 7:00). He reads it
to me and at least I know  sort of what I'll be doing, although the coffee
and lunch orders sound like  a humongous pain in my ass. It's $20 an hour
though, and if we work  twelve hours today. Yipes! $240 for one day.

Robby  gives me a laptop and says, "I'm hooking you up to a program," and
he taps on  the computer. Blinking onto the screen are columns of numbers for
various types  of loam. Rob says, "Loam is basically dirt to you and me.

All these companies  sell it," and he traces his finger down a list of company
names. He  goes, "I want to find the lowest cost for two tons of loam,
delivered  to Westborough, MA. There's fifty companies listed within our
delivery area.  They list the cost by yard and other measurements. You'll need to
Google to  find out how many yards make a ton, then compare these companies'
pricing  to find our best buy. You'll need to convert costs when they show
different  cost for different amounts. Just find me the best buy basically."

I go, "Okay,"  assuming I can figure out how to do that. Whatever, this is
basically a twenty-dollar-an-hour pain in my ass. He pats my shoulder,
saying, "I'll be back in half an hour."

When he  gets back I've discovered that converting a yard of top soil to a
ton  depends on the density of the top soil, or loam that each company is
selling.  The density varies from 78 to 125 pounds per cubic squad foot. Using
an  average of 100 pounds per cubic foot, and since there are 2000 pounds
in a ton,  that equals 1.35 tons per cubic yard. So, that's clear enough...

not! Anyway, 15  cubic yards weighs 20 tons. So one-tenth of that means we
need 1.5 cubic  yards. Now, if the companies gave a price, which they don't,
for 1.5 cubic  yards, I'd have something to compare. Rob looks over my
shoulder and asks, "What  have you got so far?" I tell him and he looks
cross-eyed, asking, "Does this  make any sense to you?" I go, "Yes, it means we can't
compare prices from this  computer listing." He goes, "Balls, it took me two
hours to transfer the info  from like fifteen other sources onto this
computer program." I go, "The easiest  way to determine the best price is send
each company a letter requesting  the cost of two tons of loam with a density
of approximately 100 pounds per  cubic foot and state you need it delivered
to wherever." Rob looks at me, and  says, "Good. Tell all that to Dottie and
she'll get someone to put together  those quote-request letters on our
letterhead." He pats my shoulder, grinning,  "Nice work. I was dreading the
thought of doing this. Fucking math, ya  know?"

He goes  "C'mon, bring that sheet with all your info and I'll introduce you
to Dottie." I  ask, "Sorry, who is she again?" We walk out of his office,
make a right  turn into a fifty-foot corridor  with offices on both sides.

Rob's saying, "Dottie Scouser is Dad's  administrative assistant. These eight
offices, four on each side of  this aisle are managers and VP's offices. The
closer to my Dad's  office the higher their rank, and his office is
straight ahead." It  sounds corny to me; the closer to the owner the higher your
rank. I  don't think I'm cut out for this kind of shit, but then I don't need
to be.  Rob's eventually going to be the breadwinner and he's cut out for it
 and seems to be eating it up. I wonder if he'd be eating it up if  he
weren't the owner's son and instead starting out as a flunky? No, he'd  probably
still be eating it up. Glancing into the four office on my side of  the
corridors I see each one has at least one window and the furniture  is much
nicer than Rob's. Dark wood, long desks with upholstered  chairs in front. The
two offices on my side closest to Mr. Dickers' office have  two windows
each. Whoa! Big shots! Nobody's in any of the offices  though.

"Dottie,  this is Dylan Newman. He's working off the petty cash account as
a temp."  She doesn't hold out her hand, but says, "Nice to meet you, Dylan.

And Rob, I  know Mr. Newman's status." The way she said that made me think
she isn't a big  Rob Dickers' fan, plus I took the status comment as a
double  entendre, to wit: she knows I'm being paid off the books and she knows my
 status is Rob's gay boyfriend. Of course I could be projecting  again, but
I don't think so. That's was over Rob's head, if it  was in fact a double
entendre. He says, "Dylan's available to do your  bidding, heh heh, until
coffee break." She asks in an unnecessarily  sarcastic manner, "Robert Junior,
why do you insist upon telling me things I  already know?" I'd like to hit
that beak nose of her's with the heavy-looking  big paper weight on her desk.

Rob blushes, but carries on, saying, "He has a  suggestion for something
I'm working on that I'd appreciate you getting  someone to follow-up on next
week."

She's  not even looking at us now as she texts something  on her cellphone,
then looks up, asking, "Is there anything else, Rob?" He pats  my shoulder,
"No, nothing else. Just take care of Dylan until," and she says  along with
Rob, "Coffee break." He grins and nods at me, "See you later, Dylan,"  and
off he goes. I turn to look at Dottie as I'm planning her downfall. She
holds her hand out, "What do you have there?" I hand her my notes on the  cost
of loam and she scans it, then put it in her 'In-box', I guess it's her
in-box. Or maybe it's her trash bin. She stands up pointing to a  table,
saying, "I have you set-up over there." Her administrative assistant  space is as
wide across as the offices on either side of the corridor, plus  the width
of the corridor. I assume that's the size of Mr. Dickers' office  too.

Looking over I see a long narrow table with a Dell computer in front  of a swivel
chair. Next to the computer is a thick binder. "Come with me,"  she says,
and I follow her over, as she adds, "Sit here," pointing at the chair.  No
shit, I thought I'd sit on the waste basket.

She starts  to explain what I'm to do... "I assume you're familiar with the
concept  owner's equity and present value. Also, for some of  these
computations, you'll need to rely on the Conjugate Pair Theorem. I'm assuming
you're proficient in these random high  school accounting concepts." Without
waiting for confirmation to that  absurd assumption, she goes on, 'What I need
you to do is refer to this binder  and the corresponding tables on the
computer's ledger and...."    I am  so fucked!


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

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

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