Date: Sun, 30 Nov 2014 11:33:28 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S  SOPHOMORE  YEAR Chapter  18 

DYLAN'S  SOPHOMORE  YEAR  


Chapter  18


by  Donny Mumford




I'm sitting in preppy stoner, Tom's, black Toyota pickup. At this  moment 
I'm coming down off a high from smoking part of the crack-laced  marijuana 
joint he had. He's outside the pickup leaning on the windowsill of  the 
passenger door's open window looking kinda cute and hot. He gives me a  'look', 
then asks, "Um, do you still want me to fuck you?" He seems serious  about 
that, so I squint at him, asking, "Whaddaya fuckin' talking about, Tom?"  He 
chuckles, "Nothing, forget it. You asked me to fuck you when you were high,  
that's all. I didn't think you meant it. I'll get you the beer you asked 
for."  Taking a deep breath, then puffing out my cheeks while exhaling it, I try 
 remembering if I mentioned sex with him, but nothing comes to mind.  
Listlessly waving a hand at him, I mumble, "Yeah, whatever, okay." He  starts to 
leave, then stops and asks, "Are you sure you're feeling okay? No  anxiety 
feelings or depression." I nod my head, "Yeah, I'm okay. Anxiety,  
depression? Why the fuck would you ask me that?" He smiles with a little  chuckle, 
then says, "No reason. It's all good," and starts walking down the  driveway 
towards the pool house. I'm watching him walk because he does it so  
effortlessly, almost gliding down the driveway very light on his feet. Damn,  he's 
pretty hot! I grope myself, surprised I'm feeling sexual heat for him.  He's 
definitely a cool and confident dude, and he also seemed sincerely  concerned 
for my well-being just now. Hmmm, well yeah, but if that's truly the  case 
why did he basically peer-pressure me into smoking that joint with him?  Is 
he really a sincere guy or a con man, or perhaps a psychopath? Ha ha, the  
truth is I don't know what the fuck Tom's all about. Huh, so I asked him to  
fuck me. Jesus! I definitely don't remember doing that. On the other hand I  
don't think he'd just make it up. It's just that's it's totally not like me 
to  ask for it. I'm not used to smoking weed though so who the fuck knows 
what I  might have said. Normally I wait to be invited to have sex and then 
decide,  that's my deal. Of course I've been turning down side-sex at a 
dizzying pace  lately so maybe under the influence of pot and crack I did ask him 
to do it.  That pot was kinda sweet too. I mean, it gave me this weird 
awesome glow, but  then there's the part where my lips and part of my face went 
numb. Damn, how'd  I let myself smoke that joint? Two things I normally 
don't like at all are pot  and boilermakers, and yet I just finished doing both. 
Hmmm, but that sensation  I felt was so different from any I've ever felt 
before. Very interesting. It  was like a sense of being fully aware of myself 
and very calm, not a care in  the world. Man, the truth is I'm shocked I 
didn't hate it.


Tom returns with two cups of beer. He passes one to me through the open  
window. Taking it, I mumble, "Thanks," and he takes his beer with him around  
the front of the pickup to get in the driver's seat. Inside he looks at me  
grinning, then when I go to take a swallow of beer, "Wait a second, Dylan,  
don't drink it yet. Hold your cup over here." Oh no, he's getting his pint 
of  VO out again. I don't want liquor in my beer, which begs the question of 
why  I'm holding my cup out to him. He grins at me pouring a shot of liquor 
in my  beer, then adds a little more to fill my cup to the brim. After doing 
the same  for his beer, he taps his cup to mine, spilling overflow onto the 
seat,  saying, "To your successful first time experience with a crack-laced 
joint.  Nicely done, Dylan. You're a stud, dude," and we both drink some of 
our  gruesome boilermakers. I gag a little, then giggle, muttering, "I'm 
such a  pussy when it comes to hard liquor. My brother just lets shots roll 
down his  throat." Tom says, "Your brother would be Jeff, right?" I nod my 
head, then  ask, "How'd you know that?" He shrugs, "I don't know. Hey, what's 
it like  going to college?" I tell him some of the pros and cons of college 
life, and  he's like, "Sounds mostly cool. I'm thinking of applying to an Ivy 
League  college the first of the year. Unlike my brother, Hummer, I 
graduated high  school the regular way. With honors, actually." I'm like, "Honors, 
huh? Why  didn't you go to college then?" He says, "I wanted to travel 
first. My dad  sent me on this chaperoned trip for six months touring Europe. Me 
and twenty  other graduates from all over the northeast. We toured Germany, 
France, Great  Britain and then Northern Ireland, so I guess I should say we 
toured the  United Kingdom, although I don't often hear it called that 
around here." I  ask, "What's the difference between Great Britain and the 
United Kingdom?" He  shrugs, "I probably have it wrong, but I think England, 
Scotland, and Wales  constitute Great Britain, and when you include Northern 
Ireland it becomes the  United Kingdom." I gulp some beer and VO down, then 
ask, "What about the rest  of Ireland?" He says, "Fuck if I know, I guess it's 
just plain Ireland. I  never was much of a geography student." 


Tom's tells me about some of the adventures he's had and there are some  
good stories to tell about the time he spent in Europe, and he's also  
interested in me and the mundane things I have to tell him about my job last  
summer. We talk a lot about sports too, which he's very knowledgeable about,  
especially college sports which I don't pay much attention to outside of  
Merrimack. When we're done our cup of beer, he asks, "Hungry?" I shrug, "Yeah,  a 
little, I guess." He goes, "Come on, we'll see what's left of that big  
buffet." I'm feeling fairly normal after coming down off the pot high, but  
it's the two boilermakers that have my attention now. Nothing serious, but I  
definitely feel those shots of VO. We're the only ones at the buffet line...  
so huh, I check my watch and find it's only quarter to eleven. Wow, it's 
later  than I thought it was and that means I've been with Tom for almost 
forty-five  minutes. It seemed more like fifteen or twenty minutes. The once 
bountiful  buffet is now slim pickings. I grab one of the three fried chicken 
wings left  over, which are all that remain of the earlier big pile of fried 
chicken.  Three barbecue ribs go on my plate and the last of the cheesy 
potatoes. Tom  tries a little of whatever's left, and then we look around 
holding our plates.  I see Seth, Cory, and Connor sitting in chairs near one the 
portable outdoor  fireplaces. They're all drinking beer, talking, and 
laughing. The CD is  playing something I don't recognize, but Tom nods his head at 
a speaker and  mumbles, "Van Morrison." I'm like, "Oh, I guess the adults 
have taken over the  de-jaying," then I  shrug, "What the fuck, lets sit at 
that table over  there." It's the same table all the guys were at earlier. We 
sit down and Tom  asks, "You just said, 'the adults have taken over'. When 
will you consider  yourself an adult? You're almost legal drinking age now." 
I shrug, "I don't  know, not yet though. I think I should at least be out of 
school before  becoming, gulp, an adult. I call myself a college student, 
which is what I am  actually." He laughs. Tom laughs easily and often. I ask, 
"Um, how old are  you, Tom?" He chews on a rib, swallows, and says, 
"Nineteen, I'll be twenty in  January. I  graduated high school over a year ago."


As we eat, Tom's full of compliments about everything: Rob, me, my  
brother, friends of mine, everybody and everything is admired by Tom. He says,  
"And fuck, almost every guy you hang out with is so fucking good looking too,  
it's like unheard of. You, your brother, Rob and his brother, that kid 
Connor  and I don't know who else are wicked cute and good looking, and it's 
kinda  freaky for a gay guy like me to see all you hot guys walking around." 
That's a  weird subject so I steer the conversation toward a more general gay 
area, like  the experience of growing up gay in a straight world. We talk 
about being gay,  exchanging the same old questions of when we first suspected 
we were gay, and  when we knew for sure we were gay. First gay experiences 
of course, and things  like that. I edited my first gay experiences with fat 
Carl quite a bit because  it's embarrassing looking back on it now. What a 
fool I was to idolize fat  Carl for those couple of months so long ago. 
Halfway done our plates, Tom  says, "Shit, we need something to drink. Be right 
back." He walks off and I  spot Dodger, Chubby, and Vinnie talking near the 
side door of the pool house.  Dodger looks up and sees me looking at them. I 
give him the finger, grinning  at him. Dodger laughs and waves back, then 
calls over but I can't make out  what he's saying so I shake my head pointing 
at my ears. He comes over and  leans on the table with a hand on either side 
of me from behind, asking, "Do  you want me to fuck you again? Is that why 
you keep stalking me?" I laugh  because I've hardly seen him at all since we 
ate. I go, "Yeah, you've seen  through me, soldier boy." He goes, "I'm 
gonna have to disappoint you this time  because my boyfriend is in desperate 
need of my undivided attention. Then he  straightens up rubbing my head, 
saying, "What I was trying to tell you from  over there is this: Robby wants me to 
tell you he's really sorry, but him and  dad had to go meet some people 
about financing the expansion for Dickers and  Son Landscaping and Design." I 
ask, "On a Saturday night? What the fuck?" He  goes, "Ya got me," and he sits 
next to me taking my fried chicken wing off my  plate and chewing on it, 
mumbling, "It's cold,"meaning the chicken wing I  assume, not the Saturday 
night business meeting. I ask, "Does it bother you  about the 'Son' part that's 
being added to the name of the company?" He says,  "You mean instead of 
making it plural?" I nod, and he says, "Yeah, it does,"  and he drops the bones 
of the chicken wing on my plate, saying, "Thanks for  the chicken wing, you 
hot shit," and he kisses my cheek with greasy lips,  laughingly wiping at 
my cheek with the palm of his hand, then he goes back to  talk with Chubby 
and Vinnie. Vinnie's laughing like hyenas. Wish I heard what  Chubby said that 
was so funny. He's a fucking funny guy, my  brother.


Tom comes back and sits down putting a can of Coke in front of me. I  
expected spiked beer or spiked Coke. Thankfully I get neither. The can of Coke  
isn't even opened. "Thanks, Tom. By the way, do you have a last name?" He  
goes, "It's Churchill, why?" I ask, "Any relation to..." and he says, "To  
Winston Churchill? No, although many years ago my great, great, grandfather  
came over from England. Not on the Mayflower though." I go, "I don't know  
anything about my father's family history. Or my mother's either now that I  
think about it." He chugs some Coke, burps, then asks, "If it's not too  
personal a question, how come you and your brother have different last names?"  I 
think about that, then say, "It is too personal, Tom, sorry. It's confusing 
 too." Then, prancing across the yard comes Tom's brother, 'Hummer' along 
with  another kid. Hummer hugs around Tom's neck, asking, "How's my gay,  
drug-dealing brother doing tonight?" The kid Hummer's with looks wasted as he  
gazes at the sky mumbling something. Tom says, "Oh goody,  it's my  
handsome, high school dropout brother. I'm doing find, Hummer, how 'bout you,  bro? 
Um, do you know Dylan?" Hummer says, "Yeah, we sorta met. How ya doing,  
Dylan?" I shrug, "Good, how 'bout you?" He nods at his friend, "I'm doing  
better than him anyway," then to Tom, "Can I borrow the Toyota for a half  hour? 
I gotta get Miller home before he hurts himself." Tom asks, "You  straight, 
bro?" and Hummer goes, "Yeah, I'm cool," and Tom gives him the keys,  
saying, "Get back here before twelve, you hear me?" Hummer mutters, "Yeah,  yeah, 
thanks. Come on Toad, lets go for a ride." The kid named, Toad Miller,  
says, "Cool, a ride," and they wander off with Toad bumping into Hummers' side  
every other step.  I watch them for a second, then glance at the ten or  
twelve adults that are left at their two tables. I want to see if any of them  
are watching the stumbling Toad. None are.


Tom and I talk for maybe twenty minutes just sitting here at the table  
smoking cigarettes. I go, "Tom, I'm curious, what's your brother's real name?"  
He drains what's left of his Coke, crushes the can, then says, "It's an Old 
 English name, Sumner. I got Thomas and he got Sumner." I ask, "How'd he 
get  'Hummer' for a nickname?" Tom chuckles, then says, "Hummer was very young 
when  he started talking. He'd point at himself and try saying his name. 
Naturally  he'd heard his name a lot, but he pronounced it as 'hummer' instead 
of  'Sumner'. Me, being only a year or so older then he related more to 
what he  said than what my parents said, so I called him 'Hummer' from then on, 
and it  stuck. At my young age I figured who better than him to know what 
his fucking  name is." I laugh, then ask, "Why did he drop out of high 
school?" Tom shrugs,  "He got mixed up with the wrong crowd. He's smart like me, 
but dumb when it  comes to common sense. My parents have got him working 
toward his equivalency  diploma. He also works in one of my father's franchises. 
Dad owns like  twenty-five UPS Store franchises up and down the east coast. 
He's rich, dude.  I guess Hummer and I are too." I go, "Huh, lucky fuck's."


Then it occurs to me to ask, "Um,  how come you deal drugs if  you're 
rich?" He takes a deep breath, "It's a long story, but the short  version is I 
gambled and lost. All during my senior year I was gambling on  sporting 
events, mostly football, but when I got in the hole I extended the  gambling to 
include college basketball games and kept losing like the loser I  was. My 
bookie was a kid I played on the soccer team with as a freshman. He  was a 
senior at the time and of course graduated. His father's, um,  connected, if you 
know what I mean.  I started out with bets of  fifty dollars and I won some 
and lost some, but not big loses until February  of my senior year. I lost 
a couple thousand dollars on the Super Bowl. By  Easter I owed about a 
thousand dollars. I kept doubling up my bets and when I  graduated I owed over 
ten thousand. My betting from the Super Bowl onward  fucked me up good. The 
bookie knows my father's rich so he's carried my debt  as a loan which I pay a 
weekly vig on. That's loan sharking jargon meaning  it's 'interest'. It was 
like two hundred bucks a month when I owed him the ten  grand. In Europe I 
met this cool dude who I fucked around with. He got me into  dealing. After 
I came back home he started sending me good pot and crack  hidden in various 
gift boxes. It's high grade and we trust each other so I  send him money 
orders after each delivery. I'm dealing only with college kids  and I've got 
my loan down to five thousand in three months. I'll be  even-steven in 
another three months and then I stop dealing. Needless to say I  haven't gambled 
since graduating." I don't know if I believe him or not. I  ask, "How come 
you didn't confess your mistake to your father and begged him  for a loan to 
pay off the money that way?" He shrugs, "I had my reasons at the  time. Hey, 
you want another cup of beer?" I go, "Yeah, okay." He stands up and  
stretches, mumbling, "Okay, and another joint too." I'm not as opposed to  trying 
another joint as I thought I'd be. It was a unique experience for me,  but 
certainly not unique to many of my fellow students. Recreational drug use  is 
one thing, and it's wide spread, but becoming an abuser or a pot head is  
another thing all together. That's something I'll stay clear of. Another  
reason I'm gonna do a second joint with him is because I'm kinda taken in a  
little by his flattery, plus I don't want to come off looking like a dork.  
What's one more joint, a shared one at that? On our way to the pool house, he  
says, "Um, about telling my father about my debt: I was too embarrassed to 
ask  him for the money. Hummer's suppose to be the dumb shit screw-up, not 
me. And,  what the fuck, I didn't want him to know what an asshole I was." I 
mumble,  "You're taking a hell of a chance, Tom. I don't think it's worth it. 
You could  multiply your problem a hundred fold if you get caught." Before 
he can respond  to that, his brother, Hummer, comes jogging down the 
driveway toward us,  yelling, "Yo, Tommy!" We stop and wait for him, then he says 
to Tom, "I parked  the pickup on the street in front of the house a little 
ways down on the  right. I couldn't get back in the driveway because some 
asshole is blocking  it." He gives Tom the keys, asking, "Where's everyone?" I 
say, "Probably  inside the pool house." We all go in and the stoner boys are 
indeed in the  pool house. Hummer does some hand slaps as the guys are 
asking him about  Toad. 


Tom pours two cups of beer for us while I listen to the stoners boys'  
conversation, which now includes two non-stoners, Dodger and Vinnie. Other  than 
going through the buffet earlier, the boys have hung out exclusively in  
the pool house. Keeping them away from the adults is best because they're loud 
 and very much into yelling out the 'F' bomb. The boys are having what they 
probably  think is a serious discussion about Zen. A redheaded stoner 
claims, "Dudes,  I'm so Zen I've dropped all illusions and I'm able to see things 
without the  distortion created by my own thoughts." None of them are 
smoking weed in here,  or I'd smell it, but who knows what other drug they may be 
on. Blade says,  "You dumb shit, Harry, your thought about not letting your 
thoughts distort  what you see has distorted your conclusion." I roll my 
eyes at Dodger, who's  chuckling and dragging on a cigarette. The tall skinny 
kid, who Cory said  wasn't with them last night, says, "You're both full of 
shit. It's like we're  all crazy and those we think are crazy are actually 
the only sane ones among  us." Harry says, "Oh, you mean those fucked-up 
homeless people babbling on the  streets of downtown Framingham? They're sane 
and I'm crazy?" As he pours some  VO in both beers, Tom says to me, "This is 
way too intellectual of a discourse  for the likes of us, Dylan," and Vinnie 
laughs, then says, "Yeah, for me too,  Dodger. Lets do something else." 
Dodger nods his head at the door leading to  the driveway and the four of us 
leave the pool house. Dodger says, "I wanna  show you something in my room, 
Vinnie, heh heh. You've seen it before, but you  like it," and then he says to 
me, "See ya later, dude." Looking at Tom, he  hesitates, then goes, "Let me 
have a shot of that VO, will ya?" Tom pours some  into Dodger's cup. A 
muttered, "Thanks," from Dodger, then he and Vinnie go  inside through the side 
kitchen door as Chubby's coming out holding hands and  talking with a girl. 
Where'd she come from?


I go, "Bro, whassup?" and Chubby introduces me to, Marlene, the  daughter 
of one of the adult neighborhood guests. She says, "Nice to meet ya,"  and I 
introduce Tom. Marlene says, "I didn't think girls were invited to  Dodger's 
homecoming, but being curious I walked my dog by the house and was  
kidnapped by Jeffrey." I give Chubby a look and he shrugs smirking at me. I  say, 
"Have fun you two. Tom and me are gonna smoke some blow." Chubby laughs,  
"Yeah, I'll bet you are." He knows I don't like marijuana so he thinks I'm  
kidding. Cool to be able to tell the truth about doing something a little  
dangerous and not be believed. They go into the pool house for beers while Tom  
and I walk down the driveway to find his pickup. We get in and Tom says,  
"Would you mind if we drove someplace where we can  smoke pot and not  need to 
worry Rob's parents might be about?" I say, "No, I don't mind, it's a  good 
idea. Where do you want to go?" He starts the pickup, saying, "I don't  
know. Maybe we'll park at one of dad's franchises. They're closed until  
Monday." We sip on the boilermakers as he drives and tells me more about his  
adventures in Europe last spring and summer. He had lots of sexual encounters  
along the way, telling me he went through a shit load of condoms. I ask, "You 
 ever do it bareback?" and he looks at me, asking, "Are you out of your 
fucking  mind? I'm nor suicidal, I use condoms. Good ones too." I nod 
noncommittally  and sip some of my  vial boilermaker. All I taste is the VO. It's 
like a  twelve ounce cup of liquor. Fuck!


It occurs to me that there may be another reason Tom wants to drive  
someplace secluded. In addition to not getting caught smoking pot, he may be  
thinking he and I might have recreational sex together. After all, although I  
don't recall doing it, he said I already asked him for it once tonight. My  
feelings about us having sex is the same as I had about trying another one of 
 his crack-laced joints, I'm not particularly opposed to the idea. Rob and 
I  had good sex a few hours ago, but I forget what it feels like to have  
recreational sex with someone new. There's something to be said for newness,  
ya know. Recreational sex with Dodger yesterday doesn't count because we've  
done it a number of times over the years and while it's always hot with 
him,  it not new. There's something to be said for familiarity too, of course, 
and  as a matter of fact I wouldn't mind at all, for old times sake, if 
Dodger,  Vinnie, and me have a three-way sex-a-thon before Dodger heads back to 
the  Army. That's not happening tonight though so I'll see what develops 
here and  now. I'm not going to suggest it again... that'll be up to Tom. He 
drives to  the end of a strip mall's parking lot off of route 9 A. As we pass 
the stores  I see the sign for his father's 'The UPS Store'. The only place 
open at this  strip mall on a Saturday night is a Subway sandwich shop next 
to the The UPS  Store. Four cars are parked in front of it. We keep going 
until Tom turns  right at the last store, a dry cleaning establishment long 
since closed for  the night. There's one security spotlight at the top of this 
one story  structure, but it's broken. The alley dead-ends ahead, blocked 
by a dumpster.  Secluded spot, fer sure.


Tom puts the windows down and turns off the pickup.  Looking at me, he 
holds his cup over to tap mine, saying, "Cheers," and we  drink. "Do you want 
your own joint this time, Dylan, or a shared one?" I go,  "Lets share, I don't 
trust myself with a whole one." He shrugs and takes a  joint out of his 
shirt pocket and fires it up. Taking a drag and holding the  smoke in, he 
passes the joint to me. I imitate him and immediately feel the  buzz. "Take 
another hit," he says, so I do and right away feel a floating  sensation as I lay 
back against the seat. Tom takes the joint from my fingers,  "Before you 
get too high, do you want me to fuck you like you said earlier?"  What the 
fuck does he mean, before I get high. Oh man, it's like a  liberating feeling. 
I go, "Whoa, that really hit me quick," and he goes,  "Yeah? It might have 
more crack in the mix than the first one. What do ya say  about us having sex 
together to cement our relationship. I'd really like to,  but it's totally 
your call." Wow, I feel good! Too good to discuss whatever  the fuck he 
meant by 'cement our relationship'. I mumble, "Um, yeah, okay lets  do it. 
You're sexy and hot and I need a good fucking about now," which gets me  giggling 
like mad. He drags on the joint, hold the smoke in his lungs before  
exhaling, and as the smoke drifts out he mumbles, "Jesus! That's some good  shit." 
Then he slides over to the passenger seat with me, avoiding the gear  shift 
in the middle, and puts his arm around the back of my neck pulling my  face 
to his, asking, "Do you like it hard and rough?" I go, "What?" and he  
holds the joint to my lips. I inhale deeply holding my breath, as he says, "Do  
like getting fucked hard and rough?" I exhale a long held breath, asking  
"What'd ya say, Tom?" and I giggle again, "Fuck, that shit's good," as  
somewhere in my brain I realize I just repeated what he said.


With Tom holding my head near his, his right arm around the back of my  
neck, he holds the joint to my lips, saying, "Here ya go, take a deep pull on  
this." As I do that he says, "Most people say smoking weed increases their  
libido so we might as well find out if you're in the majority. I'm gonna do  
you hard... fuck you hard, dude," and he presses the side of his face 
against  mine, murmuring, "You've got the sexiest smell about you. I can smell it 
even  with pot in the air. You're one sexy mother fucker, ain't ya?" His 
talking is  white noise to me and all I know is if I get anymore mellow I'll 
slide right  off this fucking seat. "Here ya go, Dylan, inhale this shit and 
exhale into my  mouth like I showed you earlier." I do that as I lean 
against him with my arms  going around him to hold on so I don't fall over. After 
taking the smoke in my  lungs my lips are against Tom's and I exhale into 
his mouth. Smoke comes out  his nose as he says, "Another," and we do it three 
more times before he flicks  the hot roach out the window and then unzips 
my fly. "Lift up, Dylan, let me  get your pants down." My lips go to his and 
my tongue goes in his mouth as I  lift my ass off the seat and he pulls my 
underwear and cargo pants down to my  knees. My cock is in his fist as he 
scoots away a little, leans down and puts  my cock in his mouth. I go, "Oooh," 
rubbing my fingers in his moussed  hair.


His tongue and lips are like magic on my dick and I'm squirming on the  
seat moaning stupidly, no inhibitions about moaning as much as I want. The  
crack-laced weed's in my head and for me it seems to be sensitizing my penis.  
Tom's doing a hell of a job slurping, sucking, and licking my hardening 
cock.  I spring a raging boner in less then a minute. "Ooh, ooh, umm, mm, ahh, 
ahh."  His saliva coats my cock and I'm in a sea of sexual excitement and 
pleasure.  Soon precum drools down the shaft of my boner, a long drool that has 
me  squirming all around the seat moaning and gripping his head with both 
hands.  More precum joins with his saliva now to slide down my wooden cock 
and wet my  balls. A few more seconds of sucking gets me gasping, "I'm gonna 
fuckin' cum,  ooh, mmm, ooh, ooh. I'm gonna cum..." He pulls his mouth off my 
cock leaving  it standing straight up from my nuts. My head's back, rubbing 
back and forth  against the seat as my cock throbs. A climax is two sucks 
and a lick away.  "Uuuum, Tom, ooh, fuck, mmmm." He grins at me and leans 
over to suck on my  mouth now, his tongue all over the inside and moving around 
sexily. He pulls  away, muttering, "You get me so fucking hot. Get up on 
your hands and knees,  up on the seat." I do that as he's pulling his pants 
down. I glance back,  panting and dizzy from the weed, seeing a really 
nice-looking long cock  between his legs, hard and wet. He struggles a condom 
packet out of his pant's  pocket. I mumble, "You don't need that with me." He 
looks at me, hesitates,  then drops the condom and gets on his knees behind me 
pressing the head of his  cock to my asshole. "Oh man," groans Tom, "I'm 
gonna fuck you so fucking  hard," and his cock plows past my sphincter with my 
back arching and me  moaning, "Aaaah, ooh, it's big." Tom cups my shoulders 
with both hands and  humps his hips driving his cock a few inches up my ass. 
He leans his forehead  on my back, going, "Ooooh, fuck, ummm," then another 
thrust with his hips and  I screech out, "Ooow, fuuuck!"


Tom rubs my back and sides leaving his cock three-quarters of the way  up 
my ass. He murmurs, "This feels so fucking good without a condom. It's like  
a whole new experience for me. I don't know what the fuck it is about you, 
but  it seems right to do you without a condom. It's my first time ever 
without  protection." I don't even know what he's saying. His words are white 
noise  again as my ears ring and the drugs fully enter my bloodstream. It's 
like an  unbelievable out of body experience with my rectum the center of my 
being. I  groan, Ooooh," as the fantastic feelings are coming in waves from my 
super  sensitive ass. My cock quivers in it's hardness, my balls buzz, and 
all over  my body these's little funny feeling tingling sensations are 
making my  shoulders shudder and twitch. "Oooh, fuck me, mmmm, feels so good." He 
says  something and rubs my back. All I can manage to say is, "Uh huh," to 
whatever  he said. He forces his hard boner way up my ass spreading the 
walls of my  rectum. I moan and hump my hips backward.  My buttocks are become  
surrounded by tickling hairs now, and then Tom leans against my ass, his 
groin  tight against me. He grunts, "Ooooh yeaaaah." After a few seconds of him 
 grinding his hips in a circle, he withdraws most of his hard long boner 
and I  squirm around on my hands and knees with a blizzard of sexual pleasure  
sensations filling my brain. Driving his hard cock right back up my ass 
fast  and I feel and hear, "Slap," from his groin hitting my butt cheeks. 
Gripping  my hips, Tom begins fast hard fucking as the familiar and delightful,  
"Slap,slap,slap,slap," sounds fill my ears, then faster and harder,  
"SLAP,SLAP,SLAP,SLAP!" and I'm groveling, my back arching, my head moving all  
around as I lick my lips and moan. His fingers dig into the skin at my hips as  
he hammers his cock back and forth in my ass. His boner grows thicker and  
harder as he moans quietly in between gasps for air.  "SLAP,SLAP,SLAP,SLAP," 
and I'm bucking on the seat hopping up off my  hands and knees moaning, 
"Oooooh."
 
There's four or five minutes of steady fucking with me moving and  hopping 
around on the seat, moaning with the, "Slap, slap, slap," sounds that  
signal pleasure so intense I can't stay still. Tom finally wraps his arms  around 
my stomach, laying on my back as his hips keep up the steady thrusting.  
His arms are partially holding me still while he's thrusting his hard boner up 
 my ass fast and hard, "Slap,slap,slap,slap,slap," until a long squeal from 
me  and I thrust forward, gargling noises from my throat now as I gag and 
cum  streams out of my throbbing cock, me moving in his arms so much the 
stream of  cum comes out squiggly making the letter 'Z' in cum on the passenger 
door. My  vision sees black like the blackness of space with so many erotic 
sensations  bombarding my brain that I can't see anything but the blackness. 
Tom grunts  pulling me up, my hands leave the seat as he plasters by back 
against his  chest and pounds his cock up my ass. I hump forward with my hips 
again as  three more shots of cum fire from my cock. "Aaaah, uum, ooh," 
with his boner  continuing it's relentless plowing of my ass sending awesome 
sensations to  every nerve ending in my body. I have no idea where I am, or 
who I'm with, as  the sensations spread out from my groin, down my legs and up 
my torso. I'm  humping my ass wildly back into his thrusts while we both 
are moaning weird  animal sounds like they make in heat. It's like my brain is 
acutely aware of  each individual sensation of sexual pleasure I'm feeling. 
Like each one is  highlighted individually. Millions of tiny balls of 
bright colors now replace  the blackness and swim in front of me. I'm waving at 
the colored balls trying  to catch one in my hand. Then Tom slams against me 
so hard and we fall forward  flat on the seat, our legs tangled up behind us 
on either side of the gear  shift, and our feet out the driver's open 
window. He humps up off me and then  flops back down driving his engorged cock up 
my ass until he makes this scary  whizzing noise followed by a desperate 
whining cry and my ass is immediately a  sea of semen. Creamy spunk fills my 
ass, spilling out so that now his  desperate humping makes a wet smacking 
sound between my butt cheeks and his  crotch. He probably shot some follow up 
streaks of cum but I only felt the  first one.


Now we lay here breathing deeply with him on my back, his face next to  
mine. The colored balls look like gum drops as I blink my eyes making myself  
dizzy. I try closing my eyes real tight but the colored gum drops now meld  
into a multicolored toddler's drawing. Oh I feel funny, weird like I have no  
stomach, like I'm hollow. The colors fade and I open my eyes to see a door  
with something drooling on it. Where's the door lead to, and should I go  
through it, and what is so heavy on my back? Someone says something from far  
away and the weight lifts off me as the most wonderful feeling in my ass,  
sizzling sexy sensations heighten, then begin decreasing. "I moan, "Nooo,  
don't do that," and something goes back inside my ass again as I go, "Aaaah." 
 More words are spoken although I think it's a foreign language, and then 
my  rectum buzzes again... and it's empty just like that, gaping open and 
then  nothing. Air drifts up my ass and I struggle violently to turn around 
with  someone holding me. I realize my eyes are closed tightly again as I 
struggle.  Then I hear, "Easy, calm down, Dylan, please. It's alright." I'm like, 
"Huh?"  and I hear, "Open your eyes, it's me, Tom." Slowly I open my eyes, 
blinking  rapidly. I'm on my side with Tom laying next to me looking at me 
with a  concerned expression on his face, our legs wrapped on the driver's 
seat and  steering wheel. Licking my lips, feeling embarrassed, my face 
blushes as I  ask, "What, um, what did you say?" He slides to the floor on his 
knees,  murmuring, "I said, take it easy. Calm down, it's just me. I think you 
were  hallucinating a little. Are you okay?" I nod my head, then say, "Yes, 
I'm  okay. Why do you keep asking me that?" He slowly pulls my legs over in 
front  of me and I sit up in the seat, dizzy again.


Tom's looking up at me from his spot on the floor of the pickup, he  grins, 
"Um, it's uncomfortable down here. Could you move over a little so I  can 
share the seat with you?" I move towards the gear shift and he smiles,  "The 
other way will be more comfortable for you. Let me deal with the gear  
shift." I nod and slide up against the door and notice for the first time that  a 
nice breeze is coming in through the open window. Looking out I see just  
black and a glow in the distance over the tops of trees and try remembering  
where we are. Tom's cum has drooled out of my ass making the seat sticky 
under  me, sticky and itchy. He pulls up my pants motioning with his  head that 
I should lift my ass off the seat. I do that and he pulls up my  underpants 
and cargo pants all the way up so they absorb the drooled spunk.  Five 
seconds later the cum's soaked through and I'm sitting in wet again. He  half 
stands, leaning over me so he can pull his pants up, saying, "That was  
absolutely fantastic, Dylan. Dude, what do you do with your ass? It was like  
gripping my cock. One of the top fuck's I've ever had. Awesome!" He plops down  
next to me, our sides touching, and gets his arm around the back of my neck  
again hugging me against him. "You're ass is like amazing. The best I've 
ever  seen or, um, been in," and he chuckles pulling my head over to kiss the 
side  of my forehead a long wet kiss. "Thank you, Dylan! Your boyfriend is 
the  luckiest guy on the planet. I'm gonna steal you from him."


I'm still a little foggy but I feel okay. I'm relaxed, sexually  satisfied, 
no guilty complex, just a dreamy kind of happy feeling. How much  the VO 
and beer, or the weed laced with crack have to do with the pleasantly  good 
feeling I'm experiencing I don't know. I know the sex was exceptional,  but 
was it especially exceptional only because of the drugs? I don't know how  to 
separate sex with Tom from the drugs. There were a few scary moments not  
knowing who I am exactly, or where I am, and then the pretty colored-balls  
hallucination was unexpected, but not horrible. It just took me by surprise.  
Tom asks, "Ya don't feel like talking yet, right?" I shake my head because 
I'm  afraid if I talk it'll break this spell I'm in. It's a sensation not 
unlike  dreamy states I've been in before. He wraps his other arm around me now 
and  rocks us slowly side to side, quietly saying, "I won't forget this 
night.  Unexpected awesomeness with you. Do you get 'hit' on all the time by 
both guys  and girls?" My eyes are closed again wanting this feeling of 
contentment, a  contentment without a single worry, to last except I already feel 
it fading  away faster and faster. Soon I'm left with a wet ass and a 
slightly drunk  feeling. Guess the weed has worn off already. It doesn't last 
long. Or maybe  it's the crack that's quickly runs it's course.


After a minute or two of drifting back and forth in Tom's arms, I  mumble, 
"My ass is wet. It's soaked through my pants." He laughs quietly,  "Yeah, my 
orgasm was like gushing out of me. Felt fantastic too. All your  fault of 
course." I'm like, "How so?" and he chuckles, "You're so sexy and hot  I had 
the worlds biggest orgasm. And your ass is wet because you said not to  use 
a condom. Dude, it was marvelous. I'm always fucking you without a  condom. 
You're gonna have a lot of wet cum at the seat of your pants." I  should 
argue, but I don't feel like it. Tom lets go of me, saying, "We might  as well 
smoke my last joint, then I'll drive you home and you can change your  pants 
if you want." Why can't I say 'no' to this kid? Then he asks, "Or would  
you rather change clothes first and we'll have the joint afterwards?" I look  
into his eyes. Big, dark blue eyes, and say, "You decide, Tom." He lifts my  
chin with a finger under my jaw, and says, "When can I meet you this Monday 
so  we can get started?" Oh jeez, what to say? I go, "Um, ya know, I'm, ah, 
not  sure about that." He says, "Yeah, it's something new for you. Let me 
have your  cell phone number and I'll call you. Okay?" I nod my head figuring 
it'll be  easier saying 'no' on the phone. I get my cell phone out and hand 
it to him,  mumbling, "I forget the number. My head's a little rattled 
right now." He  grins, "You're awesome," and hits a couple of button on my cell 
phone, then  logs my number into his phone. Passing back my phone, he goes, 
"You want me  deciding, so we'll get you some dry pants and then smoke this 
bitch after  that. Okay?" I nod, "I guess."


Starting the pickup, he asks, "Where do you live?" I tell him and he  backs 
up, turns around, and we're on our way. Tom drives for a while, then  looks 
at me grinning, "I can't help myself, I gotta know how you think I  fucked 
you. Did you get off good?" All tops want to be complimented. I give  him 
rave reviews like I always do, but in this case I'm not so sure the drugs  
didn't have a lot to do with my rather glorious climax. I've seen things while  
climaxing before, like black dots in my vision and explosions of light  
occasionally, but I attribute that to an overloaded pleasure reaction. This  
time the colored floating balls was probably drug induced, not that it wasn't  
special and cool because it was. When we get to my condo I have Tom drive  
around back and we go in through the basement. Tom sees the barber tools I'd 
 brought home in case the opportunity to give some of the posse boys 
haircuts  presented itself. It doesn't appear that'll happen this weekend though. 
Tom  sees them and exclaims, "Ah ha! This explains your bizarre haircut," 
and I  say, "Only partially." Upstairs he says, "Nice place," and in my 
bedroom, he  goes, "There's only one other bedroom which I assume is your 
parents',"  and I go, "Just my mom. My dad died young." He says, "I'm sorry to hear  
that. Um, do you and Jeffrey share this little bed?" I go, "No, he lives 
with  his mom in the condo above us." Tom looks confused, but he's too polite 
to ask  how we could have two mothers. I'm looking for another pair of cargo 
pants  because I don't want to show up back at the Dicker's wearing 
different pants.  I don't have another clean pair though. Hmmm, wait a minute! 
Chubby was with  me when I bought  these cargo pants last year and he always 
buys what I  buy, so I say, "Come on, Tom, I'll borrow a pair of my brother's  
pants."


He rubs his nose mumbling, "Oh, your brother's. Sure," and he comes  with 
me outside and up the steps to Chubby's condo. Getting the spare key from  
the mailbox, Tom's like, "No burglar would ever think to look in there for a  
key." I go, "Not yet anyway," and in we go. Inside he's like, "This is an  
identical layout to your condo." I say, "Yeah, except they obviously don't  
have a basement." In Chubby's room we step over discarded clothes on the 
floor  and I find an identical pair of cargo pants hanging in his closet. These 
are  exactly like the pants I'm wearing. Emptying my pockets on Chubby's 
unmade  bed, then kicking off my sneakers, I drop my pants and underwear 
leaving them  with the other clothes on the floor. Chubby won't know the 
difference. Tom's  eyes are big, perhaps because I undressed right in front of him. I 
feel my  ass, then go, "I gotta clean some of your awesome spunk off my 
butt," and he  follows me into the bathroom, saying, "I can't believe I did it 
with you  without a condom. Please tell me your boyfriend always uses 
condoms." Huh, as  if Rob's the only guy I've ever had sex with. Wetting a 
washcloth, I say,  "Nah, we never use a condom," and Tom chuckles, mumbling, 
"Thanks for  reassuring me." I say, "We're clean and safe. You live in Framingham 
right?"  He goes, "No, Weston," and I'm like, "That's too bad. The water in 
Framingham  prevents sexually transmitted deceases." He mutters, "Bull shit. 
You might be  too sexy for me... jesus! I did it without a condom, I can't 
believe it!"  Drying my cleaned ass, I say, "Yeah, that's not normally a  
safe move."  He laughs, "You prick, talking me into doing it bareback. It was 
super hot  though," and from behind me he wraps his arms around me and rubs 
the side of  his face against the side of mine, murmuring, "You're super 
sexy and hot.  Please say you'll fit me in again sometime." I say, "Sure, Tom. 
Rob and I have  a partially open relationship although it's closing little 
by little." He  kisses my cheek quickly and lets go of me, "I'm glad there's 
still a little  opening there because you're very special." I go, "Not 
really," and we go back in  Chubby's bedroom where I get dressed.


Feeling much better with  dry underwear, I go, "Okay, good. Thanks for 
driving me here, Tom, I  appreciate it." He's like, "Yeah, well I gotta stay on 
your good side, don't  I?" He's probably referring to his proposal that I 
deal his drugs on campus,  which isn't happening, but there's no need for me 
to say anything about that  now. On the way downstairs to my condo, he says, 
"So you and your brother have  different mothers. I guess you have the same 
father then, right?" I go, Uh  huh," and we go inside my place, down the 
steps, through the basement and out  the door from the garage. Tom's saying, 
"Interesting, you and Jeffrey being  what, half brother?" I go, "No, we're 
completely whole brothers." He starts to  say something, but shakes his head 
instead and we get into his pickup. "Could  we smoke the joint here?" he asks. 
I go, "No, not here." On the ride back, he  says, "It has to be Monday that 
I see you at Merrimack, Dylan. It's my only  day off from work other than 
Sundays." I go, "Okay, but call me first and tell  me what time?" He smiles, 
"Sure thing. This will be fun, you'll  see."


We park where we parked a half hour ago  and Tom lights up, mumbling, "I 
should have brought more than three joints  with me." He takes a hit off it 
and passes the joint to me. I do the same as  him and feel the spike of crack 
right away. It's a really intensely nice  feeling and I realize the smoke 
from the marijuana isn't a bad smell once  you've experienced it a few times. 
"Good shit," I mutter, as Tom takes a big  hit off the joint. With smoke 
drifting from his mouth, he goes, "Yeah, but you  don't get this grade of weed 
too often. After smoking this you'd notice a big  difference from most of 
the shit being sold on the street." We pass the joint  back and forth. "Dylan, 
I'm gonna bring a dozen or so joints to leave with you  when I see you 
Monday. No charge to you so you comp then to your buddies so  they get a taste 
of the quality I deal in. Does that sound good to you?" Oh  man, this joint 
is hitting me again. I'm laying back drifting pleasantly with  my eyes 
closed. This is cool. We pass the joint back and forth until the  joints only a 
half inch. Tom holds it to my lips, "You get the honors of  finishing this 
off. Really suck on this fucker, Dylan, and reach that next  plateau, that next 
level." I take a deep pull and hold it as long as I can in  my lungs, and 
as the smoke pours out of my mouth I'm going, "Oooooh, yeaaah.  Oooo, fuck, 
yeaaaah." I hear talking, but don't understand a single thing  that's being 
said as my head lulls over to the side and I'm drifting in the  atmosphere, 
looking for myself among the stars. Peacefully observing a  shooting star, 
I'm fly towards the milky way. A song about the drops of  Jupiter, and yeah, 
I'm looking for myself out there. Tom asks, "What's that  you said about 
looking for yourself?" Ha ha, I must have said that out loud  and I get the 
giggles. He says, "Were you singing something?" I giggle on  until stopping 
abruptly, asking, "Where the fuck are we?" Squinting, I see the  darkness around 
us and then Tom's face as he leans over looking into my eyes,  asking, "You 
okay?" I lay back and close my eyes again, mumbling, "Yeah, I was  drifting 
in the milky way, weren't you?" He laughs, "Shit, I wish I was  getting the 
highs you're getting. Guess I'm use to this stuff by now." I nod  my head 
feeling myself begin to come down. With my eyes still closed, I ask,  "You 
sure you don't have another joint?" He goes, "Yeah, I just brought the  three. 
Let me check the glove compartment." He looks, but doesn't find what  he's 
looking for. He goes, "Fuck, that's all I got. Ya want a shot of VO?" I  
shake my head, "No, thanks."



I'm taking deep breaths  until I'm pretty much off the mountain, "Jesus, 
that was something." Tom goes,  "Yeah, I've tried smoking pure crack, but it's 
too habit forming so I made  myself stop. Awesome high though! It's a 
fucking rush, let me tell ya. Holy  shit. You need to try it once at least. I'll 
bring the bong with me Monday"  Still laying back I glance over at Tom 
thinking he looks sexy. He looks back  at me for a minute, then ask, "Ya wanna do 
it again. I'd sure like to." I  grope myself, mumbling, "We better not. I 
don't have anymore cargo pants." He  says, "I'll use a condom this time. No 
mess in your butt." I nod my head,  "Yeah, I guess, lets do it, Tom. You sexy 
fuck, you're turning me on." He's  feeling in his pocket for the condom, 
"Looks who's talking about turning  somebody on." I say, "You dropped the 
condom packet on the floor." He looks  down, "Oh yeah, there it is. Get your 
pants down," as he's doing the same. As  he picks up the condom, he says, "Suck 
me off, would ya." I lean over and take  his cock in my mouth and try doing 
as good a job of sucking him off as he did  with my dick. Tom plays with my 
hair, mumbling, "What a fucked up haircut." I  take his cock out of my 
mouth, "You're hurting my fucking feelings disparaging  by constantly 
disparaging my unfortunate haircut." He chuckles and I go back  to sucking his cock. I 
get a nice boner on him and then lick his nuts as  another hard cock comes 
up tight against my stomach and a moan escapes my  lips, "Ummm, mmm." Tom 
murmurs, "You're awesome, dude." Lifting his nuts I  lick close to his asshole 
and he scoots forward on the seat so I can reach his  asshole with my 
tongue. Rimming him gets him moaning and squirming on the seat  like everyone 
else does when getting rimmed. It's so submissively sexy for me  to do it to a 
guy. That thought makes me realize the joint has taken the place  of a 
dominant sex partner. I got into the same dreamy state without anyone  being 
dominant. Huh.


Tom abruptly sits back on the seat  almost catching my tongue between the 
seat and his thigh. "Sorry, Dylan, I  almost shot my load all over the 
windshield. Let me calm down a second." I  stroke my boner sitting up and watching 
Tom rolls the condom on his long  boner. He says, "Let me get to where 
you're  sitting in the passenger seat. You can ride my cock facing me. That way 
I can  see the expression on your pretty face when you climax." We rustle 
around  chuckling at how awkward it is moving around in the tight space, but 
he  manages to get in the passenger seat with me bending forward standing in 
front  of him. "Nice boner, Tom," and he goes, "Yeah, he's a beauty, huh?" 
He holds  my hips as I get a foot on either side of him and with his help I 
get up on  the seat bending at the waist, the sides of our faces touching, 
with me  holding onto his shoulders. He says, "We gotta do this naked, Dylan. 
You've  got a killer body." I grunt, "Yeah, we will sometime." I drop my ass 
and the  lubricated head of the condom pokes my butt cheek. He takes a hand 
from my  waist and guides his cock to my asshole, "Sit on it now," he 
murmurs, sounding  out of breath. I plop down too far and  get impaled four 
inches on his granite hard cock as we both go, "Ooooh, fuck."  Tom says, "Feels 
so good," and I slide the rest of the way down his boner,  mumbling, "I'm 
still opened up from the first fuck," and we both start  giggling. It's that 
fucking pot makes everything seem funnier than it  is.


Exhaling a long breath, I  sit all the way down on his thighs with us 
grinning at each other. His long  boner way up my ass feeling good, really good. 
I mutter, "Tight, dude, but  nice cock." He nods his head humping his hips 
moving his boner inside me.  Taking a deep breath I lift up and begin fucking 
myself on his hard cock. I'm  grunting, "Umm," each time I drop down on his 
boner. After a few pumps on his  hard boner, I grip his shoulders and drop 
my forehead to his and continue  squatting on his cock like that, our 
foreheads moving against each other. Then  the sides of our faces come together, 
his arms go around my back and my arms  go around his as I lift and drop 
moaning into his ear. "Oh my God this feels  good." The he groans,  "Do it 
faster," and I try obliging as my climax  builds and builds. Tom begin humping up 
as I'm dropping down and we get in a  frenzy, our faces sweaty together, 
"Aah, aaah, ash, ooh ohh, aah," me  squeezing my arms around the back of his 
neck until, "Ooooh, fuuck," and my  cock vibrates and then shoots a string of 
cum right against Tom's throat and,  "Mmm, oooh," as another two little 
spurts of cum leave me limp. Tom's red in  the face as he humps up against my 
buttocks groaning, "Oooooh, um, um." Then  he stops humping all together and 
I sit on his legs laying against him while  he runs his fingers lazily up 
the back of my head. We're like this, breathing  deeply, for two minutes and 
then I lift off and sit next to  him.


My heart's still beating  too fast as I lay back and enjoy the fleeting 
sensations of orgasm. Tom takes  another big exhaled breath, rubbing at my cum 
on his neck, and mumbling, "We  might have something here, Dylan. I can't 
remember getting off this good." I  ask, "Do you think it's the drugs?" He 
shrugs, "I don't know, but whatever it  is we owe it to ourselves to see what's 
up with our sex together." I nod my  head thinking that maybe Tom can be my 
side sex partner, except we're not  really geographically suited for casual 
buddy sex. He's in Framingham and  mostly I'll be an hour away from here in 
North Andover. Whatever, it was good.  Then I'm back thinking about him 
dealing drugs. "Tom, why don't you worry  about getting caught dealing?" He's 
like, "Oh I worry, of course I worry, but  I'm not affiliated with any middle 
men here in the states and I only deal with  guys I personally know to be, 
you know, regular guys. No street people who the  narcs set up entrapment 
stings with." I take a deep breath, then say, "I'm  sorry, but I won't do it, 
Tom. I just can't do it and I don't want to  lead you on that I might 'cause 
I won't." He looks at me nodding his head,  then quietly says, "That's 
okay, Dylan, we don't know each other really. Let  me meet you Monday and we can 
at least get laid. Okay?" I shrug, "I'd like  that, but you realize we're 
geographically fucked, don't you?" He says, "Dude,  we'll take turns. You'll 
be home here in Framingham sometime and I have  Sundays and Mondays off work 
so sometimes I'll drive up and we'll do lunch or  something." I grin, 
"Yeah, okay, you have your people talk to my people and  we'll do lunch... or 
something."


We get ourselves put back  together, Tom cleans the cum off his body and 
throws the condom out the  window, then gets in the drivers seat, saying, "I 
could use a beer. How 'bout  you, Dylan?" I go, "Yeah, I could force one 
down." On the ride to the Dickers'  place I'm wondering if Tom will still bring 
the dozen joints to leave with me  Monday.


to be continued...    Donny Mumford    thinat20@yahoo.com
   
 
========================================================

 
 
I continue to provide this little advertisement in hopes  that some of the 
readers will purchase the books that I have had  published. They are 
available on Amazon. Actually one book and one short  story. The short story is 
titled "Concealed Agony - Gay  Romance" (and I didn't pick that title.) Read 
the short story first. And  the book is named  "Oliver's Wildwood Vacation" 
They are  both about 'Oliver'.  You can easily find them by searching for  
'Donny Mumford' at the Amazon web site. 
 
And I would appreciate it if you would  provide a comment at the site for 
the stories as  well.
 
Thanks.
 
Donny Mumford


 
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