Date: Fri, 17 Mar 2017 21:54:31 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE    Chapter  34

DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE


Chapter  34


by  Donny Mumford


Sunday morning  I'm lying in bed thinking about my hangover. I'm thinking
it's  worse than it  should be. I didn't have that many beers, so it has to
be those damn  shots of VO that did me in. Funny how the shots didn't seem to
have a  huge effect on me last night, but this morning it's an entirely
different story. There's an insistent bass drum pounding inside my head
creating  a headache from hell. In between the pounding I hear the shower running
in the  bathroom. Robby's either in there or I forgot to turn the water off
last night  after my shower. I'm pretty sure it's Robby. Huh, I wonder what
his frame  of mind will be this morning? Hopefully he's accepted the
situation he finds  himself in; I mean accepting it to the degree that there's
nothing he can do about it now. Aborting the pregnancy, as unpleasant as  that
may be, was Frankie's decision, and the right one in my opinion. No small
matter to be sure, but considering the circumstances no other option makes
any  sense. I mean, there's no love lost between them, so it's not a love
child. Hell, they've barely been friends since the unfortunate coupling that
resulted in the pregnancy weeks ago. We all feel terrible about it, but a
faulty condom is more to blame than either Frankie or Rob. Still, it was a
foolhardy endeavor between those two and, even though bad luck was involved,
the  choices we make have consequences.

Last night all  of that was off my mind. Instead I was busy making bad
choices of my own.  What a weird, fucked-up night it was too. Nothing as
significant as an unplanned  pregnancy of course, but the Peter debacle had
consequences for  both of us. In different ways we both got our ass kicked,
metaphorically  speaking. The only tiny silver lining I can rationalize from last
night is that  it emphasized once again the need for me to take extreme
caution when  contemplating sub/dom side-sex with strangers. You'd think I'd
already have  learned that lesson. Yeah well, now I've learned it again. I'll be
alert for the  first clue that something doesn't feel right... if there
ever is a  next time. That first hellacious smack on the side of my head was
when I needed to terminate the endeavor immediately. Duh, ya  think?

It's a damn shame that,  Ryan, my almost perfect sub/dom side-sex partner
insisted he needed more from me  than I was willing to give, and now he's out
of the picture. His insistence that  I do what he says even after our
sub/dom sex-play was the breaking  point. I wouldn't agree to that because it's a
ridiculous and unworkable  premise. I mean, we're not even boyfriends. We
were friends. I say 'were  friends' because I don't know what we are now.

Maybe he's just somebody  that I used to know, like in the song by the group,
Gotye. Cool song, but  far from cool when in real life a good friend becomes
just someone you  used to know.

Two things saved last  night from being even more of a disaster than it
was. Chubby showing-up  and canceling Peter's plans for a second fuck with me,
then my  bro helped me extract a much deserved revenge on that gorilla with
the cute  face. The second helpful thing was hooking-up with Daryl later. He
and  I left the party and had some sexy fun in the pickup which helped me
mentally  purge thoughts of that unfortunate sex with Peter. Then the hot
shower I had  before going to bed cleansed Peter from my body entirely.

Obviously last night  was not one of my better performances, but Chubby's talk with
 me after we dumped the gorilla warmed my heart and helped sooth the
embarrassment I felt about the entire misadventure. It was also good  to discover
that Chubby doesn't think  my occasionally attraction to sub/dom sex
especially weird. He  hinted that he and MJ have done a version of it themselves.

I had no interest in  hearing details about that last night, but during
future heart to  heart conversations with my bro I just might delve into that
topic a little further with him. Could be very interesting, and we might
have more in common than I already feel we have now.

When the  bathroom shower turns off, I turn over to bury my face in the
pillow. It's  like I'm feeling so rotten I'm not sure I can cope with Rob if
he's still moping  around and sighing every two minutes. The bathroom door
opens and Rob comes out  followed by a cloud of steam. He has a towel around
his waist as he comes  right over to me and rubs my head, asking, "How was the
party, babe?" Hmmm, he  sounds okay so I slowly turn over and say, "You
didn't miss much, Rob. I've got  a bitch of a hangover even though I wasn't all
that drunk last night.  It's gotta be the whiskey shots that are killing me
this morning." He sits  on the edge of the bed and gives me a little smile,
"I'm sorry you're hurting. I  shouldn't have asked you to do a couple go
shots for me." I go, "I would have  been okay if I stopped at a couple of
shots, Rob. It's not your fault." He leans  down and kisses my cheek, then says,
"I'll take care of you today. First order  of business: OJ and Advil. Wait
right there." He drops the towel and pulls on a  pair of blue boxer shorts
and, oh my, what a hot body on that  boy! That is one super-fine body. He
pulls an extra-large Merrimack t-shirt  over his head, saying, "I'll be right
back, Dylan."

I hear the refrigerator  open and close, and a minute later Rob's back with
a big glass of orange  juice and three Advil. When I sit up my head goes
BONG! BONG!  BONG! Steadying myself, I'm holding a finger up to Rob, like,
'Just  a second'.  When my head stops pounding, I hold out my hand and take
the Advil, plop them in my mouth, then take the glass of juice and swallow all
 of it very slowly. Rob says, "How about some scrambled eggs?"  Finished
with the orange juice, I mutter, "I can't eat anything, Robby. What I  need to
do right now is take a wicked piss, wash up, brush my  teeth, um, like
forever, and then put on comfy PJ's and lie on the  sofa with you." He says,
"Absolutely. That's what we'll  do."

Slowly getting out of  bed, trying not to set off the bass drum in my head
again, I ask, "How are  you doing, Rob?" He shrugs, "I'm okay. Trying to be
more realistic  about everything; trying to get over my  whoa-is-me act. I
realize some things just suck and there's  nothing I can do about it. If
there was something I could do to help Frankie, I  would." Standing slowly, I
go, "You are doing something for her,  Rob. You're paying for the, um,
procedure." He nods, murmuring, "Yeah, but let's  not talk about any of that stuff
today; okay, babe? Just you and  me all day in our private apartment-world."

I go, "That's what I was hoping  for." He smiles, "It'll be just you and me
taking it slow and easy  all day." That sounds perfect considering my lousy
condition. With that  confirmed I feel a little better already, so I go,
"Hey, I will  try your scrambled eggs after all." He grins, "Good! Ya want
toast too?" I hug  him and say, "Yes, buttered toast and, dude, you smell so
clean and fresh." He  hugs back, "I love you." Walking into the bathroom I'm
thinking: that was  fucking nice!
He heads for the  kitchen to make our breakfast and I slowly make my way
into the bathroom with  only one, 'BOOM!' pounding against my right temple.

After taking  a long piss, I wash my face and hands. Lastly it's the annoying
buzz of my electric toothbrush for as long as I can stand the noise, then
I gargle with minty mouthwash. Ahhh, that's better. In the bedroom I put on
pajamas, thinking, 'Okay, I just might live'. Stepping into a pair of
Robby's felt-lined slippers I'm still feeling shaky, but much better than  when
I first woke-up. Oh, and my ass has completely healed too. That turd,
Peter, doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about saying my ass would  never
tighten-up again. Considering what an enormous asshole he is himself,  you'd
think he'd know more about assholes.

After slowly making my  way to the kitchen, I sit on a stool at the bar
with my elbows on the  counter and my chin resting on my hands. I'm watching
Rob making scrambled  eggs. Right off I can tell the frying pan is much too
hot because the  butter is turning brown already. He turned the heat on under
the pan before he  even began breaking eggs in a bowl to mix with a fork.

When he pours the  scrambled eggs into the pan there a loud sizzle which would
be good if he were  browning meat or potatoes, but the sizzle sound is not
what you're looking  for when scrambling eggs. As an emergency measure, what
he should do is  immediately take the pan off the heat. He doesn't do that
of course,  and I'd bite my tongue off before embarrassing him by mentioning
that. After  all, he's trying to do something nice for me. Toast pops up in
the toaster so I  butter it while glancing at Rob who's now using the fork
moving very little of  the eggs around in the frying pan. He should use one
of my heat-proof  spatulas to get all the eggs moving at the same time. The
scrambled eggs are  very dry a pale-looking when he scraps them onto plates.

Rob goes, "They're  a little overcooked. Sorry." I go, "No, they're fine,
Robby. Probably a little  ketchup on the side would go nicely." Like half the
 fuckin' bottle.

He grins putting the  ketchup bottle on the bar, saying, "The pan was too
hot, huh?" I nod,  "Yeah, a little." Salt and pepper, plus a liberal dose of
ketchup, then Frank's  Hot Sauce. Oh fuck, how about the old lady in the
commercial who says, 'I  put that shit on everything'... ha ha. Okay, with all
the condiments I can  think of added to the scrambles eggs they've reached
the level of  being barely eatable. I force myself to eat everything on my
plate, but Rob  doesn't feel obligated to do that. He scraps most of his into
the  thrash, mumbling, "Too dry and burnt. Dammit!" I lie, "Well I thought
they  were just what I needed, Rob. Get something in my stomach, ya know?" He
 says, "You are so sweet to lie to me like that, baby," and he squeezes my
shoulder, then says, "Okay, I'm doing the entire kitchen clean-up myself,
but first I want to get you situated on the sofa. You sit right there  and
finish your coffee while I get some things." Nodding my head results  on a
pounding 'BOOM! BOOP! at my temples. Do not nod, dummy! I watch  him get a
pillow and a lightweight blanket from the bedroom. The pillow  goes at one end
of the big sofa, then he tucks the blanket in under the back  edge of the
three seat cushions. I couldn't do it any better myself.  "Here, babe, you lie
down while I clean-up the kitchen." An overwhelming  feeling of love for
him makes my eyes water. He's so nice, and so good  looking. I smile at his
unruly hair that's just like mine, and then there's  his voice! I love the
sound of his voice. It's crazy-awesome being in love  like this.

He says, "C'mon. babe."  I go over and hug him, "Lie with me, Rob. The
kitchen clean-up can wait."  He looks over at the kitchen and I know he can't
stand leaving dirty dishes,  coffee mugs, and juice glasses on the counter,
plus the  unwashed frying pan and splatters of egg on the stove top. Then
there's the  butter that's still out, along with the open jar of grape jam.

Making a  face, he reluctantly mumbles, "Sure, of course, but let me turn the TV
on  first." He turns the TV on to the pregame show for the one o'clock
Pats/Jets game at Gillette Stadium. Laying my head on the pillow and getting
under the blanket, I mumble, "Oh man, I hate the Jets."  Rob takes  another
forlorn look at the mess in the kitchen, muttering, "Me too," then  he gets
under the blanket with me. We move around on the sofa  getting comfortable.

Just the feel of his body and his scent is comforting.  I'm behind Robby
today, both of us mostly on our side with my arm over him.  The back of his head
is partially in front of my face and I can't help kissing  him on the side
of his head, murmuring, "I love you so much, Robby, and you make  me feel
soooo good." He murmurs, "This is perfect, Dylan. I love  sharing Sundays with
you!"

I hug him, snuggling  against him, barely paying attention to the pre-game
analysis 'cause I'm in  a Robby frame of mind, and I don't mean just
sexually either. I'm loving  him for being him. Holy shit, what would it be like
waking up with a hangover  this morning and Robby not being here. What if he
was just a  routine roommate like Tom Higgins, Daryl's roommate? I'd get no
sympathy  from a normal roommate. He'd more likely be breaking my balls about
my hangover  by laughing at my discomfort and playing a CD really loud, and
other shit  like that. Robby is so far superior to that it's not even
comparable. I can feel  his love and concern for me. It's so sincere and deeply
felt, and so comforting  that it even helps me further forget the horrible
experience I had  last night. I can feel the horrible memory fading away by
the minute.  There's no faking true love, ya know. Nope, you either feel it or
you don't, and  words of love alone won't do for true love. You need to
sense that love through  your lover's behavior as well as his words of love;
actions speak louder than  words.

I pay  attention to the TV when the actual game starts because I'm a huge
football  fan. Even though that's true, most of the second quarter Rob's
turned facing me  and we're making out or talking quietly. I confess to him a
watered-downed version of last night's disaster with Peter the gorilla. Rob's
 sympathetic, but says, "I'd like to get my hands on that asshole! Normally
we  don't discuss random side-sex, although that was terrible enough that
I understand why you'd want to talk it out." I go, "It's hard admitting what
a  dip-shit I was, but I feel a little better after telling you about  it."


He's quiet for a bit,  then says, "I'm kinda shocked about the whole thing
to be honest with you. I  feel like yelling at you for being so reckless,
but I won't because you  feel so bad about it already, and your present
hangover condition... and all  that. Actually I feel bad for you, Dylan. Hey, you
know what?  Let's clear any thought about that experience from both our
heads and  concentrate on you feeling better." I go, "I acted so stupidly I had
to tell  you." He goes, "Well, I did like that one part. The part when you
told  the cretin he doesn't know about your boyfriend." I nod, "Yeah, he
doesn't know  how lucky he was you weren't there." Rob says, "Huh. He's a senior
at North  Andover High, you say?" I go, "Yes, but like I said, Chubby and I
 already extracted some revenge on his bully ass. Sent him to the hospital
with a concussion." Rob mutters, "Hmmm, is that right? Doesn't sound  like
sufficient revenge though." Damn, now I wish I hadn't mention it  because I
can see the little vein on the side of Robby's forehead pulsing like  it
does when he's really furious. Not at me though; he's furious at Peter  for
smacking me around. I go, "Please, Rob, let it go. I shouldn't have  told you."

He says, "Don't worry. I'm probably not going to go looking for him,
although North Andover High School is only a couple miles from  here."

Rob liked that I  bragged about him to Peter, but I can tell he's picturing
in his head Peter  smacking me so hard I fell off the toilet seat. Robby's
eyes get that  'look' that can be scary. He almost killed a guy who taunted
and  hurt me the summer after our junior year in high school. It was when we
 both worked the lawn mowing crew that summer. Just because I feel like it,
I  hug Robby as tightly as I can. He nods his head slightly, like
confirming something to himself, then says, "Ya know, not too long ago I'd  have
been at North Andover High tomorrow morning asking around for that  asshole.

I'm not going to do that though because it'd just make matters worse,  and
you're okay. I have this fucking urge though, this strong  urge to hit that
dick over the head with something. Heh heh, from what you tell  me about the
guy I'd probably need a baseball bat. Not that I have any qualms  about dirty
fighting." I go, "Chub and I never did either. Ya fight to win if  there's
something worth fighting about." He shakes his head, muttering, "I hate
bullies, but I guess it's best to leave well enough alone." I murmur,  "Yeah,
um, I kinda liked that idea of your's a minute ago.  The one about us
forgetting about it and never mentioning the incident again?"  That's what he said,
and then he spends the next couple minutes talking  about what he'd like to
do to Peter. Rob mumbles, "Yeah, sure, that's what we  should do, but I was
just thinking if accidentally we ever run into him...  ya know?"

Yeah, I know. At  halftime Rob can't resist it any longer, he has to get up
and clean the  kitchen until it sparkles. He's more of a neatness-freak
than me, but  I'm getting more that way all the time. It's the same idea as
doing homework  assignments right after we finish classes for the day. That
makes good sense and  puts that concern behind us instead of hanging over our
heads in front of us.  It's the same logic keeping the apartment picked-up
and neat on a daily basis.  It isn't much trouble and it's much better than
living with stuff all over the  place until it gets so bad we need to spend
half a day getting everything put  away and cleaned. I'm getting into some
good habits because of Robby. Generally  speaking, it's a very good feeling
being on top of things. Hell, I know we're  unusual in that regard; I mean as
compared to the average college student.  Chubby's more in-line with your
normal student, and it's fine if Chub and John  Beverly are basically living in
a trash can, but I like Robby's and my way  better.

After he cleans  the kitchen Robby heats up a can of Progresso's
Italian-Style Wedding soup  for our lunch. That soup is a crazy mixture of tiny
seasoned meatballs, carrots,  small pasta, and spinach in a broth that taste good
but I'm not sure what it is  exactly. The description of the soup sounds
terrible, but it's kinda delicious.  Soup for a hangover is a very good thing.

Also a big glass of ice and  Coke, Saltine crackers, plus a few more Advil.

After lunch Robby gets the  tube of lubricant from the bedroom and comes
back into the living  room holding it up, grinning, "Just in case, ya know?" I
grin  back at him giving him the thumbs-up sign. Just in case, my  ass!
We're both on  the sofa and under the blanket again to watch the second half of
the  game. Robby's still wearing his blue boxer shorts and the  extra-large
Merrimack t-shirt and I'm still wearing  PJ's, but I kicked off Robby's
slippers when I we first got on the sofa.  The Pats manage to eke out a 27 to 24
win, but those fucking Jets  almost always give the Pats a tough game, and
that's true no matter what their  win/loss record is, which usually sucks.

You'd never know it though when they  play us. I'm feeling a lot better by
now, and after the  game Rob's feeling and acting very amorous. That's always
a very good  thing!
Lying on the sofa  together after a satisfying Pats victory I can't help
but notice the  undeniable sexual chemistry buzzing in the air between Rob and
me. It gets  us doing some teasing kisses, some silly flirting, and shortly
our hearts  begin racing and, with the euphoria of love guiding the way, we
begin  doing slow passionate kisses; the kind of kisses I only do with
him. Kissing is one of the most intimate experiences one can have with another;
 it's face-to-face, nose-to-nose, and breath-to-breath while our lips  and
tongues are one. The way he looks and feels, plus his smell and touch
combine to create a haunting sexual feast for me. It's intoxicating  while at the
same time there's a soothing rhythm to our lover's make-out...  always with
the sweet anticipation hovering around us of what's to  come. Slow kisses
as our hands are exploring each other's body and  there's quiet moans of
arousal while our bodies  squirm together until we both have a rock-hard penis
between our legs.  Yes, awesome feeling boners.

Robby's worked his  way on top of me. I'm lying on my back, my arms around
his neck  as we're doing more passionate kisses, each one better than the
one  before. Our sexual arousal builds to  the tipping point, meaning we need
to take it up to the next  level called... sex. Rob gasps and abruptly sits
up pulling off his t-shirt. His  eyes shine as he nods at me to get
undressed. He steps off the sofa to drop his  boxer shorts while I'm getting out of
my pajamas. Our clothes and the blanket  are on the floor as our boners
bounce with every movement we make. When I  lie back down on the sofa, Robby
gets on the sofa with a knee on either  side of me. His chest expands as he
breathes deeply, then walks on his  knees up my body until his hard cock is
over my mouth. I reach up and take hold  of it with my fist so only half the
head is sticking out from the  circle that my thumb and forefinger form around
it. Pulling it down to my  mouth I lick the piss slit, then my tongue moves
all around the head as Robby  moans, "Oooooh." and makes a, "Schhhh," sound
sucking air in between his teeth.  His precum coats the tip of my tongue as
Robby leans forward and I let go  of his boner so it can slide into my warm
wet mouth on my pink tongue. It  slides in until the head hits the back of
my throat. My lips suck on the  hard shaft as my tongue licks all over it.

Robby reaches down  to stroke my boner; stroke, stroke, stroke, then he lifts
up pulling  his cock from my mouth and swings his left leg over me to stand
next to the  sofa, murmuring, "Turn over, babe."

Our eyes lock for a  second, it's as if we're memorizing each other's face,
then I roll  over on my stomach hunching my ass up, quivering with
anticipation. He gets  on his knees behind me and I look back to watch him rub lots
of lube on his  boner. Then, with a hand on each of my butt cheeks he
spreads them stretching my  anus sideways. Leaning forward the hard slippery head
of his cock pushes against  my asshole. I relax my rectum muscles as much as
I can, but there's  still an initial resistance. The hard swollen head of
his fat  cock spreads my anus overcoming the resistance by applying more
pressure until, "Aaaah, ooh," from both of us as the head of his hard boner
slides past my sphincter muscle and the lips of my asshole close  tightly
around the neck, just below the swollen head. Robby grunts, "Ummm,"  breathing
noisily through his nose before murmuring, "Always feels so good,  babe.

Ummm, so nice, huh?" I murmur, "Un huh," as the initial pain  quickly subsides.

We enjoy being joined  together for a few seconds and then my rectum walls
begin spreading as Rob's fat  boner moves up my ass. There's always some
pain, but that's nothing  compared to how good it feels. It's an amazing
sensation being slowly  filled-up inside me by a part of my lover's body. Oh yeah,
 and sexual sensations erupt as the sensitive nerve ending surrounding  my
asshole, plus the most amazing pleasure button of all time, my prostate
gland, tantalizingly come alive at the same time. Oooh, it feels so fucking
good!  The four inch trip up my ass is indescribably pleasurable and  makes me
shudder. My neck strains as I look back at Robby who has his beautiful
eyes closed lightly, his lips are slightly parted, his head lulls back  and
there's an expression on his face of contentment. His hands  squeeze my hips a
few times before tightening his grip and  slowly withdrawing his cock as
both of us moan, "Ooooh, mmm, oooh."  Sizzling pleasure inside me when he's
pulling that big cock head back, and  then sensation flare-up as his cock
immediately goes back up my ass. I  bite my lip, going, "Aaaah, Robby, ooh, ummm
yeah."

Adjusting his widely  spread knees, Rob gets up a little higher on them;
then, with a  firm hold on my waist, his hips begin moving smoothly in a
steady rhythm back and forward. In and out goes his hard boner fucking  my ass
with the subtle, "Slap," sound of his crotch slapping against my butt
cheeks. Each 'Slap' brings with it a world of sexual pleasure for both  of us.

Negative thoughts of the pregnancy and those of last night with that  Peter
character, as well as this morning's hangover all disappear;  they're replaced
by this sex act... making love with Robby. I can't  imagine this ever
getting old because each time it feels new; it is  new each time. There are always
different circumstances and states of mind when  we do it, but no matter...

it always feels wonderful! Having sex with Rob is  perfection. His hard sex
organ simultaneously  and continuously stimulating millions of nerve
endings in my  ass creating a state of euphoria in me. This is  so different than
sub/dom sex in so many superior ways that  afterward I sometimes wonder why
I bother with sub/dom sex at  all.

Rob's quiet moaning  allowing me to freely concentrate on my own pleasure
without feeling selfish.  It's mutual pleasure like no other for me, and it's
causing ripples, one after  another, of incredible pleasure that can't be
described or matched by any  other experience I've ever been a part of. "Umm,
umm, oooh, ooh," from  Robby as his fat boner slides tightly and steadily
back and forth inside me. My  prostate pulsates, the stretched lips of my
asshole vibrate creating a loud  chorus of sexual pleasure. The top of my head
bumps the arm of the sofa with  every thrust of Rob's hard cock up my ass.

What a delicious way to spend  six to seven minutes of life, sharing ecstasy
with the boy I love. My  body shakes as an orgasm awakens and makes itself
known. That indescribable  sensation called climax is apparently building in
Robby too as he's  now making desperate whining sounds and his thrusting
becomes faster and harder.  His boner swells inside me as he's now tight
against my buttocks,  humping against me and breathing frantically. I've also
reached  the tipping point and I'm shaking from the enormous bombardment of
pleasure  that makes me squeal, "Eeeeeee!" as my body stiffens and I lift my
hips  with cum pumping out from my throbbing cock, spewing cum onto the sofa's
seat-cushion. It's almost a feeling of relief for a fraction of a second
there, followed immediately by spreading pure-pleasure from my ass and  groin
that overwhelms every other emotion... a tsunami of sexual  pleasure. My
blood seems too heat-up all over my body and I can only  manage a gasping,
"Ooooh," as more cum flies from my cock. It's only after  the crescendo of
climax do I realize Robby filled my bowels with his creamy  cum and he did it
the same time I was emptying my balls of the same magic  fluid. He's breathing
noisily laying against me experiencing the  pleasurable after effect of the
mighty bodily function  named, orgasm.

It's almost a shock to  think back a few seconds and realize what just
happened within my body. How  wonderful was that!  Robby's rubbing my back,
murmuring, "That  was exquisite. Sex with you is perfection, Dylan. I have the
urge to thank  you every time we do it, but that would be a kinda creepy of
me, don'cha think,  babe?" I'm taking deep breaths, but manage to mumble,
"No, not creepy, just unnecessary because it's mutually felt. " He pulls back
a  little and when his cock pulls from my ass entirely we both do a quiet,
"Aaaah, mmm." Another deep breath from Rob as he gives me a hug, then we
slide  off the sofa so we don't spread my cum around on the seat any more than
I  already have. Standing up, Rob's cum seeps from my ass but that's nothing
 new and I barely notice it. We hug, then look at one another with little
smiles  on our faces. Then one last hug as Robby asks, "Are you beginning to
feel  better?" I nod, "Uh huh, much better."

Letting go of each  other, completely naked we walk towards the bathroom,
"I'll clean the  spunk off your ass, babe, and then we'll see what we can do
about  cleaning the sofa." I put my arm around his waist, asking, "Don't you
wish  it would last longer?" He mumbles, "Heh heh, one of us always says
that, but  yeah, of course I do. During our sex there's a point where I want
to climax so  badly I'm only thinking of that; that climatic moment when
everything goes,  'Boom!' Oh man, and your rear-end is so spectacular!" I could
fish  for more compliments by asking him how much better my rear-end is than
 other guys' asses, or how much better my ass is than Frankie's snatch, but
it  would bring up the topic of side-sex and the other thing and right now
I  only want us thinking about our sex.

We spend a few minutes  in the bathroom cleaning up, then back in the
living room we put on what  we were wearing before we undressed. Rob says, "I'll
clean the sofa and  maybe you could get a towel to cover the wet spot when
I'm done." That's what we  do and, as I'm tucking the towel in between the
sofa's cushions, Rob  asks, "Do you think you could handle a cigarette,
Dylan?" I shake my head, "No,  that would put a hurting on my hangover recovery,
but I'll get some fresh  air with you while you have a smoke." We put on our
coats and I step in  Robby's slippers. On the balcony Rob lights a
cigarette, and says, "The  weather forecast calls for three inches of snow tomorrow.

I hope they're  wrong." I mumble, "Me too," and Rob says, "Hey, you know
what?  We should learn to ski. Don'cha think?" I go, "Yeah, we should,  and
I'll teach you to golf this summer. We can go golfing on the weekends.  Skiing
and golfing; oh man, won't we be hot shits!" Rob grins, "Doing anything
with you is awesome." I go, "You know what? I wish I'd  taken the guitar
lessons when I had the chance to take them in  middle school. My mom was going to
pay for lessons when I was in seventh-grade.  One of her regular customers
at the restaurant was a guitar teacher, and he  had a band too. You know,
the kind that played weddings and things like that.  Not the kind that makes
CD's." Rob exhales smoke, asking, "Well, why didn't you  take the guitar
lessons?" I shrug, "I don't know. Chubby wasn't up  for it at the time and then
the idea just faded away somehow. It'd be cool to  play guitar though. You
could sing and we'd form a rock band." Robby laughs,  "Dream on, boyfriend. I
only sing to an audience of one; the one being  you!"

Inside the  apartment again I'm feeling quite a bit better; much of my
hangover having  slipped away. It's never completely gone for at least
twenty-four hours, or even  longer sometimes. We lie together on the sofa
half-watching the Ram play  the Eagles in the four-fifteen NFL game. We're talking too,
and  rubbing our hands on each other. Physical contact with Robby is very
pleasurable  and he seems to feel the same about me. We're a mutual
admiration society  with lots of compliments flowing back and forth making both of us
 chuckle at times when we realize we're overdoing it. Not that we care
about  overdoing it, but sometimes we can't help laughing at  ourselves.

We talk about  end-of-semester reviews that begin tomorrow, and how it
makes for an  easy week. That's especially true for us because we've been
reviewing every day  since the beginning of the semester. So yes, an easy week,
but a boring  one. It's also the week Frankie is having her abortion, so
that's on both  our minds although neither of us verbalizes it. Today is a
no-pregnancy-discussion day.  I can't help but think again how there's never a
good time for an abortion,  but considering it's the end of the semester and
two weeks from Christmas  break, it's especially unfortunate timing. Rob and
I both feel bad for  her, but simply put there isn't anything anyone can do
to help except be  supportive if she asks for help. Beth is Frankie's moral
support... I  hope.

After the second  football game we decide our dinner will be roast chicken,
 mashed potatoes and  gravy and, believe it or not... green beans. Recently
we've been trying a few  vegetables and, much to our surprise, some of them
are actually tasty. I always  add butter plus salt and pepper, but Robby's
never uses salt. I guess that's how  he was raised. Chubby and I mostly
raised ourselves so we recklessly love  salt even though we know in excess it
isn't good for us. Robby helps with the  dinner, willingly taking directions
from me and then when everything is  either cooking on top of the stove or in
the oven we take a shower  together. During the shower we get into another
make-out, but it's  different than our lovers' make-out of a few hours ago.

This is more  playful and completely sexually-orientated as opposed to being
lovers'  centric. Maybe because of my experience with Daryl, I grin telling
Robby  he's going to experience the 'bottom' role. He has no problem with
that. I know  I've been selfish by allowing Robby to accommodate my
preference to  'bottom' when I know he'd like to do it sometimes too.

We need lubricant  though, so I step out of the shower and leave wet
footprints leading into and  back from the bedroom where Robby returned the tube
of lube  after our earlier sex. Feeling excited about this I take the tube
with  me into the shower where Rob and I hug under the showers waterfall. It
feels good warming up after that minute spent in our much cooler bedroom.

Rob's excited, "This'll be fun," he says, and before I can apply the  lube he
goes, "Wait, first I need to do this," and he drops to his knees and  sucks
my cock. He sucks cock better than Daryl, which gives me pause,  but only
for a few seconds. My fingers play in Rob's wet hair that's as long on  top
of his head as it's ever been since we've been together. My cock  is quickly
responding to his lips and tongue and I need to stifle a  moan, thinking,
'Robby's not a little better than Daryl, he's a lot  better!' I go up on my
toes, my hands gripping his shoulders as  tantalizing pleasure sensations come
off my cock and get  my shoulders doing their quick shudder. A mere minute
later I'm  pushing at Robby's head, muttering, "Aaaah, okay, that's good,
Rob.  Ummm, fucccck," as he gives my boner one last long lick. Looking up at
me he's  grinning and looking pleased with himself. His pink tongue, shiny
with my  precum, as it takes a swipe across his lips. His expression makes me
laugh,  but it's sexy as hell too.

He stands with his  hands on the tile wall looking back at me as I cover my
boner with slippery  lube. Whoa, that feels good! With my cock between my
fingers I guide it to his  asshole and hump it right in. Rob goes, "Ooooh!"

pushing his ass back. The head  of my cock sizzles with sexual sensations as
I grab his hips and  slowly push my boner the full six hard inches inside
his rectum. He gasps  without indicating he's in any pain. Wrapping my arms
around  his stomach, I pull him tight against my crotch and he goes, "Ummm,
damn,  Dylan, that feels awesome." Humping against his buttocks a few times,
but not feeling the extreme tightness I feel up Pony's ass. There's a
couple of possible explanation for that: one, assholes aren't all the  same so
some are tighter than others. And, sure, a less-tight asshole might  indicate
that person's been fucked a thousand times by guys with large cocks, or
perhaps that person's ass isn't as resilient as mine. The fact is  though; I
haven't topped enough guys to be any kind of an expert on the  matter. The
relatively few times I've fucked guys, some of them had never  been fucked
before. They asked me to break their cherry for them. Ah, the  memories, but
then those experiences happened when I was young and now I  don't recall if
they were extra tight or not. Another possibility for Rob  not having as tight
a rectum as Daryl is that Daryl has a  freakishly special rectum. For being
fucked, I mean. There are guys  who claim my asshole is special. And then
there's the fact that I've  only fucked Robby a few times and never after
regularly fucking  someone else. For the record: I do not think Rob's been
fucked a  thousand times by some guy with a huge cock. It's simply that Daryl was
 born with a tighter-then-normal asshole.

After  thinking all that, my  boner feels very good inside Robby, and it is
tight, just not like Daryl's  tightness. Moving only my hips I pull my
boner out until half the head is  exposed and then smoothly slide it back in all
the way. Robby goes,  "Oooooh," and again he pushes his ass back at me,
wanting more I  assume. Water's pouring from the shower head, mostly on me as
Rob's  almost flat against the wall now and therefore under the neck of  the
overhanging spigot. When we began he was holding his body  away from the
wall at arms' length, but when I pushed my boner back up his  ass the first
time he slowly moved forward until his hands and forehead are  touching the
wall, with his elbows sticking back, his chest a mere two  inches in front of
the wall. My arms around his stomach are touching the wall as  well.

Resting the side  of my face against Rob's right shoulder, my arms around
him tightly, I begin a  steady fucking creating the 'Slap, slap, slap,"

sounds that are a little  louder than normal because his buttocks and my shaved
crotch are wet. It's two  minutes of us tightly together with only my hips
moving back and  forth driving my extremely hard boner inside his ass, "Slap,
slap,  slap, slap." Robby shudders, moaning, "Oh fuck that feels good,
babe."  He doesn't ask for it harder like Daryl does so I maintain this  steady
rhythm. Whoa, every nerve ending in my dick is sparkling  and singing along
with the pleasure song of males fucking in a  tile shower stall, "Slap, slap,
slap." My shoulders do their  little shudder against his back every three
or four thrusts: "Slap,  slap, slap," shudder.

Oh man, it's a very  different world 'topping'; mostly because all my
attention is focused on my cock  where with 'bottoming' it's split between my
rectum and cock. While fucking  Daryl I feel dominant, but so far I'm not
feeling much of that with Robby.  This feels nothing like sub/dom sex, not that
that's what Daryl and I are  doing. Still, while 'topping' Pony I feel the
dominance that's  basically inherent in being the one doing the fucking, or as
some guys have  called it... doing the male part of anal sex. Robby's not a
big moaner  when he's the 'top', and he's not as a bottom either; not until
in both  cases his climax begins building towards blast-off. After four or
five  minutes of absorbing sensations from his rectum, Rob begins to moan,
"Oooh, oooh, oh God, ummm, ooh yeah," with his climax building. My orgasm
is apparently lagging behind his so I increase the speed of thrusting  which
leads to harder and harder thrusting until I'm wildly slamming  my cock up
his ass. I do it really hard a half dozen times, then stop  to do a few
deliberate hard humps leaving my cock inside him for  a second and applying
upward pressure that gets him going up on his  toes. Then I'm back to humping it
hard and fast up his ass, again  leaning against him, pressing him against
the side  of the stall as I do another deliberately hard trust and hold it
there and,  just like that, I get the dominant feeling. It just drifted in on
me when  Rob got docile at the dominant hard deliberate thrusts and holds
I'm doing.  It's a rough way of fucking someone: you hump hard up their ass
leaving  your hard cock up there and sort of hump your hips up, then do it
again  harder, maybe with a slap on his ass, asking, "You like that,  boy?
Huh?" I don't say that, but it's kinda implied.

Robby seems to be very  aroused by this as he's moaning openly now and
lying flat against the tile  side of the shower stall. He now moans, "Umpth,
umpth," with each hard  rough slam of my boner up his ass and when I leave it
there I hump up  against his buttocks with him grunting "Fuck me, fuck me."

That's so unlike  Rob it's almost like I'm seeing an entirely different side
of him. Maybe  it's the side mystery guys who fuck him see. Danny fucked me
good  way back when, so I can see him doing it with Rob. I haven't noticed a
 trace of dominance one way or the other in the normal daily interaction
between them. Thoughts like that one totally abandoned my head when  climax
sensations come roaring out of nowhere and I get into a really fast
doggy-fucking on Robby's ass. It feels like an incredible orgasm is ready to  blow
from my cock so it's super-fast and hard now, "Slapslapslapslap!" Rob  flat
against the tile wall with me grunting at each hard fast thrust.  Grunting
from the effort until Rob thrashes around against the walls  making gasping
breathy noises as he stiffens and pushes away from the  wall enough that his
cum shoots straight up between him and the wall.  It hangs motionless for a
split second before dropping down  against his shoulder as another string of
cum is shooting up. It's  like fireworks that go off and sparkle brightly,
then as that shot dies out  another one shoots up in the air. Robby's humping
back against me as, I suppose,  the last of his orgasm shoots out in short
spurts that don't make it up very  high. He goes limp quietly moaning as I'm
like, "Eeeee, aaaah," tight  against him humping against his ass firing a
good stream of cum up inside him. I  shudder and shake holding my breath with
stars bursting behind my eyes.  Then another hard hump against him with me
pushing him up against the wall so  hard the side of his face is sliding on
it. Another good shot flies from my  cock as I smack the side of Robby's ass
and hump against him again. Climax  sensations bursts all around my groin
as I do one last shudder.

Oh my God! That was  hot! Now my orgasm sensations begin fading quickly. I
go limp myself,  taking a deep breath. My face feels red and hot because I'm
embarrassed about  losing it like that. That rough sex and slapping his ass
wasn't what I had in  mind. Robby hasn't moved, still up against the wall.

I pull my cock out  slowly with no idea how long we fucked. Holding my head
back so the shower flow  is right on my face now as Rob turns around
grinning. I back away from  the flow of water feeling relief when he says, "You're
a wild man, Dylan. Oh my  God that was good sex!" and he gets me in his
arms. I didn't know what he'd  think about me getting a little rough with him.

It's like, when that  orgasm announcement hit my brain I had to climax fast.

I wanted to feel it  so badly it turned into rough sex for the last minute
or so. I'm still  trying to catch my breath 'cause it's takes a lot of energy
fucking that  hard. It was all so different from fucking Daryl though, and
I'll try  figuring-out why that is some other time.

Rob's laughing, asking,  "How's your hangover now, Dylan?" More hugs as he
asks, "That was great, don't  ya think?" I snap out of my daze and nod my
head grinning back at him now,  muttering, "Yeah, I'll say. But I was a little
worried I was too rough  at the end." He goes, "No, it was great! You're
just not used to 'topping' I  guess, but you're really good at it. What a
great sex partner!" Huh, Robby  really liked that. From now on is it going to be
awkward deciding who does  what when we're aroused during foreplay? It'll
kill the continuity we've had for  so long. More grinning from him as he
says, "Great fucking climax for  me. How about you?" I shrug, "Yeah, um,
awesome, Rob. Totally awesome." He goes,  "Well you da man, Dylan, so I'll bathe
you first," and he does. Starting with a  shampoo and then everything after
that. It gives me time to think about  how I just may have screwed myself out
of all the 'bottom' action I've  loved these past few years. Literally
screwed myself out of  that.

While bathing Rob  he slips in little compliments about my 'topping', so I
finally  ask, "Why didn't you  suggest we switch-off years ago?" He goes,
"No, no, don't get me wrong. I  love being the top for you; it's my first
choice. I'm just saying you're awesome  in either role." Naturally this has me
wondering about his  choice, assuming he has a choice, during his side-sex
over the years.  I wish he'd offer information about that on his own, but why
would he  since I don't offer the same information to him? The truth is I
think we  both feel self-conscious about our side-sex. That we still want it,
I  mean. No one who knows about our relationship understands it, and for the
 most part neither do we. We know it's worked for us, but we don't know why
 we continue doing it. Well, we like doing it and maybe that's the only
explanation necessary.

I suppose lots of guys  are versatile, maybe most gay guys. Yeah, except
there are some  who simply can't bottom. Literally can't physically do it; the
poor  bastards. Wow, when I got up this morning with my hangover, feeling
like  death warmed over, I never thought in a million years I'd be fucking
Robby  in the shower eight hours later. Looking at him now I'm thinking how he
 always wants to please me in our sex lives; he puts my pleasure ahead of
his  own. He looks up grinning, "What? You're staring at me." I go, "Oh, I
was  thinking how sweet you are to accommodate what I prefer during sex
without considering what you want." He goes, "Our sex is perfect, but
occasionally it's a treat to be fucked by someone as awesome as you." I nod,
"Anytime, boss, anytime. It was really phat!" He laughs, "An adjective from the
distant past."

We both get  dressed in clean pajamas and finish preparing dinner together.

It's  a very good dinner too, and afterward we both clean up the kitchen,
then we're on the sofa snuggling together again while Sunday Night Football
is providing background noise on the TV. It's not a game we  care about,
but it's football so, ya know. I fall asleep lying against  Robby; then, a
little after eleven o'clock he gently shakes me awake,  "Let's get to bed,
Dylan." I'm groggy, mumbling, "Yeah, good  idea." Robby turns off the lights and
TV. We do our bathroom stuff and then  it's right to bed. Under the covers
in Rob's arms, I hear him murmur,  "Sundays are my favorite day of the
week." I go, "Me too, Rob, and thanks  for taking care of me and my hangover. You
did an awesome job." He kisses  my cheek and that's the last thing I
remember before waking up Monday  morning. Outside it's snowing, just like the
weatherman predicted.

We get up and go about  our business with neither of us mentioning last
night, although we both feel  really good about it and exchange knowing smiles
a few times. It's like  we've had so many wonderful days together that we're
not surprised  yesterday was another wonderful one, even if it was
different. We stop  for coffee and bagels at a coffee shop, then eat and drink our
stuff in the pickup looking at our notebooks full of material for  review
class today. This first real snow of December is wet and heavy. The  weather
predictors are wrong however, because this snow won't last. The  afternoon
temperatures will be above freezing.

Our class  isn't until one o'clock so we spend forty-five minutes in the
Quad  talking with some guys from the baseball team, including Golden. He's
sitting next to me as we listen to a funny story about two freshman
ballplayers who got so hammered Saturday night they couldn't remember where they
parked  their car and had to walk back to the dorm from downtown North Andover.

They're  borrowing a car after last review class to drive around looking
for their  lost car. At one point I tap Golden's shoulder, "Are you gonna be
doing haircuts before Christmas break?" He goes, "Yeah, to make-up for
Saturday  when I had to stop because my clippers broke, the Saturday after finals
 week I'll do haircuts for guys who missed out this past weekend, plus
anyone who  wants a fresh haircut for the holidays" I go, "Two weeks from now,
huh?" He nods  and mumbles, "Jesus, how long has it been since your last
haircut?" I go, "Too  long obviously. Rob too. Um, do you remember that first
haircut you did for  me?" He nods, "Yeah, a regular tapered haircut. It's
called a layered  haircut actually." Huh, I didn't know that." I go, "Well,
that's what I  want two weeks from now, if you don't mind." He shrugs, "Yeah,
sure, no  problem. Don't you like this trendy one I've been giving the guys?"

I go, "So  you are imitating the latest trend." He shrugs, "Heh heh, not
very well I'm afraid, but yeah. It's not only trendy,  it's quick and easy."

I'm like, "Don't you think it looks silly?" He  goes, "Yeah, of course it
does. I've had a ponytail all my life, but if I was to  get it cut, it wouldn't
be for the haircut I'm giving most guys." I'm like,  "Why do you give it to
us then?" He shrugs, "Like I said, it's quick and easy.  Plus, there are
guys who don't know what they want, and in some cases  don't care, so if they
don't say anything I do the same for everyone." I  go, "Huh. When I first
met you, you said you didn't particularly  like giving haircuts." He nods,
"That's right, I don't, but by giving  these haircuts I've gotten to know most
of the guys on the  team... and I'm only a freshman." He smiles brightly,
saying, Plus, everybody  knows me now!" I say, "Yeah, you're famous, Golden."

He shrugs, "Well, not  really. Remind me what you want the Saturday after
next, okay? And, by  the way, you've got an awesome head of hair." Actually,
so does he, but a  ponytail? I simply mumble, "Thanks."

Monday's review class  drags on, but it's the only class we have today.

After a painful fifty  minutes we're done for the day. Outside the building we
talk about  doing the three mile run with Daryl and decide to stop doing
that until it's nicer weather again. It's the  snowy season and we're not
going to be one of those fanatics that run  in all kinds of weather. Then Rob
gets text from Beth: 'Can I see  you at your apartment around three o'clock?'
He texts her back that  he'll be there. I say, "Do you think Frankie, um,
was at the clinic this  morning?" He shrugs, mumbling, "I can't imagine any
other reason Beth would  want to see me, except to get the money
reimbursement." "How much did you  take out of the bank?" He goes, "A thousand dollars.

If it's more than that I'll  do another withdrawal."

Back at the apartment,  while we're waiting for Beth, I text Daryl to say
Rob and I  probably aren't running again until nice weather returns. He texts
back:  'I agree. Are you free this afternoon?' Hee hee, I wonder what he
has in  mind? Then the buzzer from the back door sounds. I go, "That's an
annoying  sound!" and Rob hits our buzzer letting Beth in. Sounding apprehensive
he  mumbles, "I wonder if Frankie's with Beth?" I'm like, "I doubt it." A
minute later, when I open the door Beth is alone. She frowns at me, saying,
"What a horrible morning I just had. Where's Rob?" I point over my shoulder
with  my thumb, then turn around and Rob's not there. "He must be in the
bathroom. Did  Frankie, um, go to the clinic this morning?" Beth says, "Yes,
and your  boyfriend should have been there. I had to hold her hand and deal
with  everything afterwards." I go, "Lose the fucking attitude, Beth! Frankie
 didn't want Rob there." Robby comes out of the bedroom, "How'd it go,
Beth?" She  says sarcastically, "Oh, it was a great time, Rob," then, "How the
fuck do you  think it went?"

Okay, she's emotional  and probably has a right to be, but it's not like
Rob purposely got Frankie  pregnant. He says, "Well I'm sorry it was horrible.

How's Frankie? Is she lying  down or...?" I ask, "Did  something go wrong?"

Beth says, "Don't pretend you give a shit. It's a  little late for that.

I'm here to collect $725.00, and I'll take it now." Robby  mumbles, "Okay, my
money's in the bedroom. I'll get it." As he walks back into  the bedroom, I
go, "Let me see the clinic's bill." She snottily says, "You  keep your nose
out of this. It has nothing to do with you." I go, "Be that as it  may, let
me see the fucking clinic's bill." She makes a face at me as Rob  comes
back. He goes, "I don't have the exact amount. Here's $740.00. I don't  need the
change." I push the money he's holding out too Beth back at Rob.  "We need
to see the bill first." He's in a daze, as Beth says, "Just give me the
fucking money, Rob! And you," pointing her finger at me, "Keep your mouth
shut." I say, "Rob, ask for the bill."

He shrugs, "If  she says it's..." I go, "NO! That sounds like too much. We
need to see the  bill." Beth goes, "Frankie and I went through all the agony
and pain of  taking care of the problem. A problem you caused, Rob, and
..." I'm hot under  the collar now. "What the fuck are you talking about,
bitch? Frankie's the one  who talked Rob into doing it and she gave him, on
purpose or accidentally, a  faulty condom. Because he's a sweet person he's going
to pay for the abortion,  but not because it's his fault. And he's not
paying anything until you show  us the fucking bill from the clinic." She goes,
"You're such an asshole!" and  she pulls out a computer printout and holds
it out. I grab it and look at it.  Frowning, I say, "This says it cost
$512.00," and she goes, "Yes,  for the abortion, but there's pain and suffering
involved, plus expenses of  getting there and, um, that time I took her to
lunch and had to talk  her off a ledge about this whole matter." Robby looks at
me, then at Beth,  asking, "You want me to give you more than two hundred
dollars over and  above what it cost?" Beth's red in the face; caught in her
swindle. I take  the money from Rob's hand and count out $520.00 as Beth
whines, "We had to take  a taxi to the clinic." I'm like, "How much was that?"

She sarcastically asks,  "You going to need a receipt for that too?" I give
her $540.00, saying,  "For one thing, Rob offered to drive her, but here's
an extra twenty-eight  dollars for the two-mile taxi ride."

Rob's in shock, asking,  "Did Frankie want you to get me to pay an extra
two-hundred dollars?" She says,  "No, she's a sucker. It's me who thinks we,
um, I mean, she deserves it." Oh  man, I'm still pissed-off, talking loudly,
"This entire unfortunate  situation was mostly Frankie's and  your fault
from the start. Rob is paying for the procedure out of the goodness  of..."

Beth yells, "It was an abortion. Not a procedure, shit-head!" Rob asks,  "Why
are you acting like such a dick, Beth? You're being totally bitchy  and
stupid." She says, "Well I'm pissed-off, okay? And did you tell Golden  about any
of this?" Rob goes, "Golden? No, why would I tell him?" She puts  the money
in her pocket and grabs the clinic's receipt out of my hand,  saying, "Well
it's a pretty big coincidence then that he broke up with  me last night.

The night before Frankie's abortion." I go, "You're mental! What  does one
thing have to do with the other?" She says, "You wouldn't understand.  I'm
leaving!" Rob goes, "Whoa. You haven't said how Frankie is. How's she  doing?"

Beth shrugs, "Considering everything she's doing pretty well, but  why don't
you ask her yourself?" He mutters, "I will."  Beth's stalks  to the door
saying over her shoulder, "She deserves that extra money."  Rob goes, "I'll ask
her about that." With the door open, Beth says, "Oh, she'll  say she
doesn't, but she does anyway." I go, "Goodbye, Beth. Be careful on the  steps.

They're slippery and we wouldn't want you falling down the steps  and breaking
your neck." She gives me the finger and I mutter, "How  lady-like," as the
door slams behind her and Rob's $540.00.

Rob sits on the sofa,  saying, "I cannot believe that just happened." He
texts Frankie asking how she's  doing. She texts back, 'Better than I
expected. I've got the literature the  clinic gives their patients and so far I'm
not experiencing any of the  possible bad side effects. And thank you very
much for paying for  everything. That was sweet of you.'  I'm reading his
cellphone  over his shoulder. I go, "Doesn't sound to be like Frankie knows
anything about  the extra money rip-off that Beth tried to pull." Rob shakes his
head,  mystified, "I can't believe she did that." I go, "Frankly, neither
can I, but  she's been a total bitch about this from the very  beginning."

The rest of the day is  sort of a downer. We don't go out and we spend too
much time talking about  the girls and the way it ended so poorly. We talk
it out of our systems,  concluding: Frankie, probably unintentionally, was
primarily to blame for  getting pregnant, but she's handled the situation
admirably while Beth did her  best to make as much trouble as she could. In bed
that night, Rob says,  "I'm apparently not cut-out for any kind of serious
female  companionship. The thing is, I liked Frankie as a friend, but now we
can't even  be friends." I snuggle up to him, saying, "You still have me as
a friend, Rob."  He chuckles and puts an arm over me, "Yeah, some
consolation prize you  are." I says in the dark, "I probably won't get pregnant." He
goes, "Yeah,  well there's that..." and one thing leads to another from
there. And we  aren't confused about what our roles are either. I guess me
topping will be  the exception to the rule... at my desecration. Robby so good
about things  like that.

Tuesday goes  by kinda slowly. The review classes are boring the shit out
of all of  us. Tuesday afternoon, while Rob's at the baseball complex, I give
Daryl a hard  spanking while watching his five-inch cock get hard even as
he's  yelling, "OW! OW! OW!" Then I fucked him kinda dominantly while he was
still sniffling from the spanking, and we both had great climaxes. His cock
 gets so hard just before climaxing I can hardly believe my eyes. It's
something to see alright. Comparing his ass with Robby's, Daryl's  is
definitely tighter, plus he has that involuntary muscle contraction  thingie going
for him. Jesus, that feels awesome on my cock and I really  like that distinct
dominant sense I get during the spanking and the sex.  The spanking, by the
way, is at Daryl's insistence, not mine! After  considering all the
attributes Daryl's ass has for fucking, I still prefer  Robby's.

We're  still gloomy about the abortion, especially Rob who was against it
from the beginning, but gave into Frankie's decision because it's her body.

Then Wednesday and Thursday go by as boringly as Monday and Tuesday,  and
finally it's Friday, after our last early morning review class. Review  week
is past history now, and thank God for that. A group of us  are going to the
movies tonight. Neither Rob nor I have had a single beer  all week, so
after the movie we're looking forward to going to that bar,  Butch's Sports Bar
and Eats, with the pool tables for a few beers and  to shoot some pool,
which neither of us is especially good at. Hey, maybe Markie  will be there
tonight. The stress of the pregnancy and abortion are still on our  minds, and
we both worry about and feel the worst for Frankie and the entire  horrible
affair. Better days ahead, hopefully for everyone...

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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