Date: Sun, 7 Dec 2014 11:11:46 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR  Chapter  20

DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR


Chapter  20


by  Donny Mumford




As disappointing as it was for me, Chubby and I both fell asleep  quickly
when we got to bed last night. We went to sleep quickly, but not  before
sharing the best kiss Chubby and I have ever had together. Before that  Chubby
said something regarding the two of us and romantic love. It was an offhand,
quick  subjective comment open to interpretation and I don't know what to
make of it.  We went to bed immediately after he said it so I didn't get a
chance to follow  up, but I probably shouldn't read more into it than there is.
Now, after a  good night's sleep I'm laying here in bed Sunday morning
thinking about that  and realizing I can't even remember exactly what it was
he'd said. We'd been  drinking a lot so there's that to consider.  Lets see...
I had three or  four boilermakers, smoked crack-laced weed, had sex with
Tom, plus too many  beers on top of everything else. Yeah, but did I have fun?
It wasn't as much  fun certainly as the going away party, but sometimes
things just don't click  and that was kind of the case last night. As for the
sex I don't know how much  influence the crack and pot had on me so I don't
really know how I feel about  the sex with Tom. In hindsight I should have
said no. Over all the party was  okay if a bit disjointed and, um, choppy. It
felt like that mostly because  Robby and his father left in the middle of
everything for some sort of  business meeting, plus Dodger's 'stoner' friends
showing up, who most of us  don't know. On the other hand it was a party for
Dodger and Connor, so the  important thing is for them to have a good time.


Because of the weed and all the alcoholic beverages this morning I  should
feel like shit, and I do. Why is it that bad things like hangovers can
always be counted on when good things can't be? Chubby's still sleeping so I
check my wristwatch hoping it's too early to get up, but no. It's ten o'clock
and we need to get up and shop for brunch fixings. Before waking him I take
a  minute to stare at his face. He's so good looking!  His face has always
been my favorite face to see any place, any time. Chubby's brown hair is
soft  and cool looking so I run my fingers through it looking forward to
giving him  a haircut. I've always loved doing that and I guess I always will.
We're so  tight at times it's like we're one person, except we're different
too. Maybe  not as different as I thought, but the likelihood of that ever
being proven is  the 'impossibility' Chubby mentioned last night... the
'impossibility' he  feels is pointless to contemplate. Is Chubby sacrificing
himself so I can be  happy? One thing I know is I'll never get the answer to that
question from  him. What might have been 'romantically' is apparently
forbidden territory in  Chubby's mind. Knowing how much he loves me is no small
consolation though,  and that love and friendship is actually the rock I live
my life off of. His  love and strength allows me the freedom to live a
little on the wild side  because I know in my heart if I go too far with
anything, Chubby is my  lifeguard and he'll dive in to save me. Of this I have no
doubt, but it's so  fucking selfish of me to put him in that position. I need
to be a better  person, but am I capable of being better? Time will tell.


Laying in bed like this my mind wanders. I'm  thinking how strange it is
that the Dickers brothers mirror in many ways  Chubby's and my feelings of
brotherly love. Not many brothers are as tight as  we are although Robby and
Dodger have been more openly demonstrative about it.  I wanted Chubby and me
to emulate their affectionate brotherly love and  Chubby, like he's done all
his life, accommodates me the best way he can in  that regard. When I think
about it I wonder if the younger brothers are  subjugating their own best
interest for the benefit of us older brothers?  Dodger's resigned himself that
he can never come out of the closet because  Robby's already done that and
Dodger doesn't think his parents could deal with  having two gay sons. I can
see why he'd think that since his parents weren't  too cool about dealing
with the fact Robby's gay. They didn't display their  concerns to Robby's
face, but Dodger overheard his parents voicing concerns to  each other. They're
seemingly more concerned how Robby's gayness reflects upon  them rather
than how Robby's handling being gay. I can't imagine my mom and  Tris voicing
concerns like that. Then I wonder if Dodger's view in that regard  is similar
to whatever Chubby may be dealing with? Chubby's only two days  younger
than me, but he is the younger brother just the same. And Dodger was  right
about Robby and me expecting support and pats on the back for being
forthcoming about being gay. On the surface both Robby's parents and mine have
basically done that, but Robby's parents lack sincerity in their support. I  can't
imagine mom and Tris lacking sincerity any more than Robby imagines his
parents being like that, which doesn't change the fact that they are. On the
other hand Robby's dad is putting '  and Son', on the new signage for the
expanded business. That makes one  think his dad is proud of Robby. Or maybe
his dad is doing that because he  feels guilty about his true feelings about
his son being gay, or maybe it's  not that at all. Confusing shit, and life
gets more so the older I  get.



Yeah, but fuck this negative thinking! I shake Chubby, "Chub, wake up,
it's ten o'clock." He opens one eye and I look at it, saying, "Remember the
moms went to bed early last night so they probably won't sleep as late as they
 usually do Sunday mornings. We need to get our ass in gear and do some
food  shopping, bro." He moans, "Oh alright, but how in hell am I gonna do that
when  I've got a friggin' headache the size of the moon." I mutter,
"Really, that  big? Well, welcome to the club. Get your ass up! I'll get us some
Tylenol and  OJ." Taking a deep breath I sit up in bed feeling dizzy, and then
hop out of  bed which causes my own moon-size headache to pound like a
drum. Jesus! Okay,  first things first, so I go into the bathroom for a nice
long piss. After  that, I vigorously wash my face and hands, then brush my
teeth. Do I feel  better now? No, not that I notice. In the kitchen I grab the
bottle of Tylenol  and a quart of orange juice and swallow three Tylenol with
a glass of OJ.  Boom, boom, boom! goes my head. Fucking drum! Bringing the
OJ and Tylenol into  the bedroom, carefully sidestepping the land mine of
discarded clothes on  Chubby's bedroom floor, I see Chubby's snuggled himself
down under the covers  with just the top of his head showing. Swell!
Putting the pills and  orange juice on the nightstand, I struggle to prop Chubby
up with both pillows  behind him. He mutters, "Oh goody, breakfast in bed."
Ignoring that I pass  three Tylenol to Chubby. He gawks at then in the palm
of his hand like he's  never seen Tylenol before. When I hand him the bottle
of orange juice he makes  a face, then pops the pills in his mouth and chugs
three or four swallow of  orange juice. Looking up at me, he mumbles,
"Thanks, Dylan," then with a big  smile, he goes, "Hey, you look very cute this
morning, bro." Taking the OJ  bottle, I can't help grinning at his 'cute'
comment. His smile turns off, as  he says, "Let me have the fucking bottle
back," so I pass it back to him and  he drinks half a quart of orange juice.
"Ahhh, I was so thirsty." He burps a  long burp, chuckles, then mumbles, "Now
it's a race to see if I can get to the  toilet before I piss myself." He
steps out of bed, and goes, "Ooh, my fucking  head!" then disappears into the
bathroom. I gotta wonder if drinking too many  alcoholic beverages is worth
the fallout the next day. Yeah, but he said I  looked cute. I wonder how old
I'll be when it's the last time I ever hear  someone say that. What the
fuck?! Why all these depressing thoughts this  morning?


Putting on a pair of Chubby's clean boxer shorts, skinny leg jeans, and
his long-sleeve t-shirt that reads, 'WARNING: I do stupid things' on the
front, I grin to myself because I've picked out some of Chubby's favorite
casual clothes. I finish getting dressed by putting on a new pair of his sweat
socks and my sneakers, then stand here smirking at Chubby as he slowly
staggers out of the bathroom. He stops, does a theatrical double take, then
says, "Hey, that's what I was going to wear." I'm like, "Tough shit, bro!"
Trying not to grin, he mutters, "Big brothers are always picking on us younger
guys." I say, "I'm wearing a clean pair of your boxer shorts too, your
favorite blue ones. Got my own sneakers on although I did put on a pair of  your
sweat socks, the only new ones I could find." He laughs as he starts
getting dressed, mumbling, "They were your new sweat socks originally. When I
was, um, borrowing a sweater from you last week I saw you had three new pairs
of sweat socks in your sock drawer. I thought, what the fuck is this! He
has  three pairs and I have none. You know, so I felt it only fair I take a
pair of  yours." I mumble, "Well, you're down to zero new sweat socks again
because I'm  wearing the stolen pair." He says, "I don't care, I feel awesome!
The  Tylenol's worked already." Making my headache beat like a drum, I
yell,  "Liar!" and, as my head goes, "boom, boom, boom," he says, "Hey, I can
talk  myself into feeling good if I want to. It's called the art of positive
thinking, although my choice of the word 'awesome' was a stretch. You're
right  about that part."


After putting what's left of the OJ back in the refrigerator we go down
the outside steps to the Jeep. It's parked almost two feet from the curb.
Chubby frowns at that, then yells, "Who the fuck moved the Jeep? It was parked
perfectly last night. This sucks!" I mutter, "Uh huh," and get in the
passenger side. Chubby's real chatty as he drives us to Stop & Shop. He's
talking about his and Marlene's time together last night. I ask, "Are you  going
to see her again?" and Chubby's like, "I might if I live through this
fucking hangover." I asks, "Were two you drinking hard liquor last night?" He
goes, "Yeah, unfortunately we did that in the form of way too many gin and
fucking tonics. We were at her house, down in their rec room where
conveniently they have a well stocked bar." I mumble, "Jesus, gin and tonics,  I hate
that drink." Inside Stop & Shop I'm doing my usual scanning for  something
interesting to ogle from the selection of bag boys and register  clerks.
Hmmm, I see a potentially interesting subject on his way out the door  at the
other end of the store. He's got short blond hair and a slim body, but  I only
see his back. He's obviously a part timer because he's wearing the  yellow
vest that everyone working the parking lot needs to wear. He's also got  to
be a new hire because I'd remember the blond hair and slim body. Other than
Blondie, the pathetic job of hiring at this Stop & Shop continues
unabated. What in the world could the personnel people be thinking? Idiots! I  say
to Chubby, "Look at the dork on register 4." Chubby looks, asking, "The  big
kid? What about him?" I go, "Big? He's fat and dumpy. Look at his unruly
hair and those oversized horn-rim glasses." Chubby goes, "Why do you care?
He's somebody's son and they probably love him. The poor fatty." I shake my
head, "Shoppers do not want to look at gargoyles while buying food." He
mumbles, "That is just so cold, bro. Grab a basket."


Picking up a basket I spot a kid in the pharmacy section who looks like
Ryan. Not the same eyeglasses, but the same body size and going by his face he
 could be Ryan's brother. Huh, I kinda miss what Ryan and I had at one
time.  How'd that get lost I wonder? Well nothing stays the same. Ryan's changed
and  I guess I've changed too. Chubby says, "Bro, what the hell are you
looking at  now? We gotta figure out what we're doing for brunch." I'm like,
"Of course.  Um, first we need orange juice. We drank most of the bottle in
the  refrigerator." After getting the OJ, I go, "Lets get bacon next. I'm in a
 bacon frame of mind." Chubby says, "Ah yes, bacon, nature's most perfect
food.  Bacon for sure." On the way we see Jimmy Dean brand pork breakfast
sausages.  Chubby goes, "Ah ha, the second most perfect food, breakfast
sausages," and he  puts a package in the basket. We walk over to look at the
varieties of bacon.  "You can't go wrong with Oscar Mayer," mumbles Chubby. So we
look at a dozen  or so packages of Oscar Mayer bacon. There's a little
window on the back of  the packages allowing you to see a slice of bacon. We keep
checking until we  see one with at least fifty percent meat. Some of them
are mostly fat. Fat  taste good, but we're healthy eaters, sort of. In the
produce section a big  wedge of fresh seedless watermelon and a whole honeydew
melon go in the  basket. I mumble, "Pale green of the honeydew and dark red
of the watermelon.  Hmmm, we need some black berries too for a pretty fruit
salad." Chubby throws  in a bunch of black seedless grapes and a pint of
berries. He asks, "Should be  get red bliss or Yukon gold potatoes?" I say,
"Lets do a potato hash with  onion and pepper, so either kind of potato will
work," and Chubby goes, "Red  bliss potatoes are right in front of us." He
puts some in a plastic bag, and  asks, "Red or green pepper?" We get a red one
and an orange one for color. I  say, "Food should look good. You eat with
your eyes first." Chubby mutters,  "No shit, Emeril." We've got fruit,
protein, and hash brown potatoes so far.  Chubby says, "Eggs of course," and we
head for the dairy section. On the way I  see Ryan's look alike again. I call
over to him, "Excuse me," and he looks  over and points to himself. I go,
"Yes, you. Do you have a brother?" He shakes  his head and I notice he's got a
hearing aid in both his ears. Well, now I  don't feel right fucking with
him at all, so I quietly say, "I'm sorry, you  looked like someone I know." He
grins, shrugging. Maybe he can't talk. God, I  feel bad for him. I smile at
him, again mumbling, "Sorry to have bothered  you." Another grin from him
and he's on his way. Damn, that was a downer. The  poor guy. I need to count
my blessings more often.

Chubby asks, "Did you see his ears?" I mumble, "Yeah, that's sad. The  poor
kid. I hope he's not self conscious about the hearing aids. Do you think
he looks like Ryan?" Chubby goes, "I didn't notice, but remember what we
talked about last night? We we're describing the reasons for angst among
teens, but we never considered being a teen going through everything we all  had
to go through, plus having a handicap. Man, life ain't fair." I nod my
head, still feeling bad for that kid. In a bit of a somber mood now we get the
eggs and Chubby's favorite breakfast food, Pillsbury cinnamon rolls with
icing. They always smell like breakfast when they're baking in the oven. On
our way to the check-out lines I look for the Ryan look alike kid still
feeling bad for him. I'd like to hug him and tell him he's cool. There are
people waiting in line at the four self check-out lanes, so I go, "See that,
Chubby! All these people are avoiding the store's unfortunate choices for
register and bag boys. They don't want to look at the disturbing assortment of
grumpy housewives, retired men who feel this job is beneath them, and the
raggedy ass collection of high school kids assembled in this Stop & Shop.
It's probably a nefarious plot to reduce the amount of usage of the register
lines. Cut down on store personnel by getting the customers to do it
themselves." Chubby gives me a 'look', then goes, "Just get the fuck in the
twelve-items-or-less express line." We get in that line with me adding,
"Someone in the personnel department of this store needs a good talking to.  I'm
not kidding. This is getting serious and I just might take my business
elsewhere." I turn around and see Chubby isn't even listening to me. He's  talking
with a nice looking African American girl who's in line right behind  us.
Chubby says, "Leonda, say hi to my brother, Dylan," she's like, "Hi! Nice  to
meet you, Dylan." I go, "Likewise, Leonda,"and Chubby says, "Leonda's in my
 marketing class," then he asks her, "Do you live around here or are you
just  visiting?" She goes, "Man, I've lived here all my life. I'm only sorry I
 didn't get to meet you Romaro boys sooner. You dudes are eye candy hunk a
beefcake hotties!" Chubby asks, "Um, is that good?" and she pretends to
slap  his arm, "You better believe it, Jeffrey."


Out of the corner of my eye I see the blond hair kid I saw leaving out  the
far door when we came in. I'm casually turning his way to check him out
more closely when the housewife, who's our register clerk, calls to him, "Hey,
 Bruce, get over here, I need a bagger." Blondie comes over, muttering,
"Gene  sent me out to collect shopping carts. I can't do two things at once, ya
 know." She goes, "Just bag the things on the belt. That's what you're
getting  paid to do." Huh, what shopper wants to witness disgruntled employees
bitching  at each other? It's one wrong thing after another in this store. Oh
well, I  steal some glances at Bruce who appears to be sixteen or
seventeen. Damn! He'd  be cute except his nose is fucking up his appearance. Bad
noses are the number  one reason guys and girls remain outside the cuteness
classification. In  Bruce's case it's not the hook, big, or crooked nose that's
mostly the problem  when noses go bad. Nope, his nose is too small and it's
pointed, plus he  doesn't appear to have nostrils. What a waste of a slim
body and blond hair.  He's got the blue eyes to make it work too, and a cute
mouth and chin, but  it's impossible to get past the little pointy nose of
his. Jesus, I wonder  which one of his parents is responsible for that nose?
It's a shame really.  Bruce says to me, kinda snotty-like, "What are you
looking at?" I didn't realize I was  staring at him. I put a tough expression on
my face, saying, "Don't worry  about what I'm looking at, blondie, just bag
the damn groceries like she told  you to do. Oh, and don't forget to tell
us, 'Have a good one,' when you're  done bagging." Surprising the hell out of
me he laughs out loud. Then ginning  at me, he says, "You must have worked
here, right?" Jesus, what a cute grin!  He's bagging our items as I tell
him, "Yeah, I did, Bruce, but it was some  years back." He says, "What? Some
years back you say? Oh, when you were twelve  years old, ya mean?" Ya see,
wise-ass bag boys are not what we're looking  for.

Chubby pays and say goodbye to Leonda. I give her and Bruce a little  wave,
and Bruce says, "Have a good one, guys." Chubby says, "Thanks, you too."
Chubby doesn't get the sarcasm in Bruce's, 'have a good one'. On our way out
I  carry the plastic bags of groceries as Chubby's saying, "That girl,
Leonda, is  funny. She sits next to me and we laugh our way through a lot of the
marketing  class." I ask, "Laugh? Aren't you taking notes?" He goes, "I take
notes!" Then  outside he says, "I'm thinking of asking her out. Do you
think she'd go out  with me?" I say, "If she doesn't there's something wrong
with her." He says,  "I've never dated a black girl before. It shouldn't be any
different though,  right?" I mumble, "You take Leonda out and you still
haven't dated a black  girl. She's the color of coffee with lots of cream.
Pretty complexion." Chubby  says, "She's African American. She told me so." I
go, "She's not black,"and he  goes "And we're not white, are we?" I mumble,
"No, we're not albinos," and  then feel bad remembering a really nice albino
kid I knew in middle school.  His name, ironically, was Danny White. God, I
felt bad for him... he was  always alone. Nice kid though and I'd always
invite him to eat lunch with us.  He'd look down and nod his head, mumbling,
"Thanks, Dylan," and never say  another word. It made my eyes water. There's
few things sadder in high school  than seeing some kid at a lunch table eating
alone. So many things in life can  break your heart, ya know? Jeez! We get
to the Jeep and I say, "Let me drive,  I wanna see if I remember how."
Chubby takes the groceries from me, mumbling,  "It's like riding a bike, you
never forget." I go, "Where does the key go?  you'd think I'd know since it's
half my car." Chubby mutters, "Hardy, har,  har, har."


Back at the condos, we're walking up the steps when Chubby asks, "Your
place or mine?" I go, "We're at mine so lets make the brunch here." As we're
going inside, my cell phone rings. It's Robby and I cheerfully say, "Hi
there,  Rob. Whassup?" He's like, "Good morning, Dylan. Um, I was wondering if
I'm  still invited for brunch?" I go, "Boyfriend, it's a standing invitation
for  every brunch we ever have. Of course you're invited! We just got back
from  Stop and Shop with the goodies and I saw a kid in the store who looks
just  like Ryan, but this guy has a hearing aid in each ear." Robby goes,
"Gee,  really? That's a shame. Um, should I come over now?" I go, "Of course,
and  tell Dodger and Connor they're invited too." He goes, "They're still
sleeping.  They didn't get home until almost three o'clock." I go, "Jeez! Army
brats, ya  know. See you soon. Love you." Chubby's taking the food out of the
bags and  lining everything up on the counter. He says, "You do the hash
brown potatoes  and I'll get the cinnamon rolls ready for the oven." I mumble,
"Okay, boss,  but don't put the icing on those babies until after they're
baked." He mutters, "No shit,  Sherlock," but he did put the icing on before
baking them last time and it  melded away to nothing. Mom comes out of her
bedroom talking on her cell  phone. She's wearing PJ's and a bathrobe talking
to, who else, Tris. With the  cell phone to her ear she puts her arm around
my neck smiling at me, hugging  me as she's kissing me, then she says into
the phone, "I just kissed my  handsome son good morning and your handsome
son is next." Chubby hugs mom back  as he gets his kiss hello. We continue
making breakfast smirking at each  other. It's nice being loved and adored.


Robby rings the front doorbell as I'm putting the shredded potato,  onion,
and pepper cakes in a cast iron skillet. I answer the door and give  Robby a
big kiss. We hug for a few seconds, then Chubby calls over, "Hi Robby!
Come on over here and cut up some fresh fruit." My mom's still on the phone as
she gives Robby a big smile and a kiss on his cheek, saying, "Hi, Robby,
you're looking as handsome as ever." Robby blushes, mumbling, "Hi, nice to
see  you, and thanks." Mom smiles and kisses everybody, no one escapes her
affection. We're doing scrambled eggs this morning which I like on the wet
side. This is a big dispute between Chubby and me favoring the wet side for
scrambled eggs and the moms who favor dry, which just means cooking them a
little longer. Scrambling eggs should be done with the eggs constantly in
motion and no browning. Brown scrambled eggs are just plain wrong. As we make
brunch Robby, Chubby, and I are discussing the party highlights, which
means  anything that made us laugh. Laughable material invariably entails an
unfortunate incident happening to someone, any one of us. Tris lets herself
in, still talking on her cell phone with mom. The moms laugh about that,
although they do the same thing every brunch.


We serve Sunday's brunch at eleven-thirty. It consist of bottled OJ,  mixed
fresh fruit, coffee, cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage,  hash
brown potatoes, and toast with raspberry jam. As we sit around the  kitchen
table eating the moms express an endless list of compliments about the
brunch. Cleverly interspersed with the compliments is a seemingly endless list
of questions for us guys about our personal lives. Chubby and I take turns
deflecting and talking around these questions whenever necessary. Along with
 that Chubby makes us all laugh seemingly whenever he wants to, and the
moms  have nary a negative word to say about anything. They always talk about
their  jobs, but the things they have to say about being waitresses makes one
think  they're having the most fun anyone could possible have on the job.
Neither  would ever mention any of the negatives that surely must occur when
constantly  dealing with the public and the all types of customers they
encounter daily.  We take almost an hour talking and eating before we're ready
to put brunch  behind us. After cleaning up the kitchen we separate for
purposes of sneaking  cigarettes. Us guys wander up the outdoor stairs to Chubby
and Tris' condo. We  go out on the balcony as the moms are going out on our
balcony right below us.  We all light up cigarettes knowing full well what
everyone's doing. It's just  our normal routine. I assume this is when the
moms will tell each other about  any negative aspects of their work
experiences, assuming they have any to  tell. They're both so upbeat, smiley, and
happy it's a joy to see them and fun  spending time with them, but still we
continue this facade that none of us  smokes. It's sort of a running gag. The
moms have never added to any stress  Chubby and I might have and we never add
to any they may have. Some could say  it's an artificial relationship if we
don't share our troubles along with the  bright spots in our lives, but
we've always been like this and if it ain't  broke don't fix it. Chubby and I,
almost from necessity, became autonomous  early in life. Autonomous in the
sense we're independent. We take care of  ourselves and the moms obviously
noticed this from when we were quite young. I  assume since we never presented
them with problems they followed suit in that  regard. Unusual arrangement
perhaps for child and parent, but it's worked  beautifully for our little
family. For example, when I came 'out' as gay it  was as an already dealt with
situation. I presented it to the moms as a  resolved situation that's fully
under control and not a problem they need to  be concerned with on my
account. There's this unspoken understanding that if  there ever was a problem one
of us four couldn't handle, then it would be  shared. Happily, so far
nothing like that has ever come up.


Chubby lights a cigarette and tells Robby and me, "It's weird how much  the
food  helped me get over my hangover." I exhale some smoke, saying,  "The
food plus your positive thinking, right?" As I say that I realize my
hangover is mostly gone too. Robby says, "I didn't even have a hangover this
morning, although I almost wish I did. I spent half the night with dad  listening
to the financial backers stipulating what they need to make the deal  work
for them." I ask, "Do you do a deal like that on a handshake?" He goes,  "Oh
God no! The lawyers take it from here. That's what next Saturdays's
meeting's about." Chubby asks, "Do you like being involved in this business
stuff? I mean, you're still in college, fer chrissakes." Robby goes, "I'd  rather
not be involved if I had my druthers. Well, I'm not really involved  anyway
other than dad wanting me to observe and learn. It's not like I say
anything. Dad will tell me, 'Write that down please, Rob'. Stuff like that."
Chubby and I don't know anything about having a financial business meeting so
we change the subject and talk about our first week at Merrimack as
sophomores. As usual we rehash the funny or weird stuff that happened. It's  not too
long before Chubby gets a call on his cell phone. He answers it  wandering
inside laughing at whatever the person on the other end of the line  said.
While Chubby's inside talking on the phone, Robby asks me, 'What would  you
like to do this afternoon?" I shrug, "I don't know. What would you like to
do?" With smoke drifting from his mouth, he says, "Um, I've been thinking
about what you said last night and I'm really curious what things about our,
um, marriage plans you want to tweak." I nod my head, "Yeah, I don't blame
you, but I'd like to think about it some more, Rob. Would you mind if we
left  it until we go out to dinner next week?" He says, "Okay, I guess. The
thing is  though, if there's something that's bothering you, something I'm
doing, I want  to stop doing whatever it is." I say, "It's nothing that can't
wait, Robby.  Really!" He smiles at me and I think it's because I called him
'Robby' again.  "Sure," he says, "Whenever you're ready to talk about it, but
what'll we do  today?" Chubby comes out to the balcony, saying, "I'm off to
take Marlene to  the mall. What are you guys gonna do?" I say, "We're
trying to decide," and he  goes, "Why don't you meet us at the mall." Although we
probably won't do that,  I say, "Yeah, maybe we'll see you there, Chub.
Don't do anything I wouldn't  do, okay?" He chuckles, "Oh goodie, anything goes
then." I'm like, "Hey, there  are things I won't do." He gives me a quick
hug, "I know that, Dylan. I should  try to be as good a person as you." I m
umble, "Oh sure." I always say, 'oh  sure' when I don't know what else to say
to something. It's a noncommittal,  catch-all phrase.  Robby and I bump fist
with Chubby and then he bounces.  Bouncing is another way of saying, 'he
leaves'. Chubby's smiling as he goes,  always ready for a good time. Huh, a
part of me wishes Chubby and I were going  someplace together like we used to
so long ago, when we were  young.


I take a deep breath, then look at Robby, shrugging, "What's it gonna  be,
boyfriend?" He says, "Let me see what Dodger's up to," and he calls him on
his cell phone. Not really wanting it, I light another cigarette for
something  to do. I'm looking out over the balcony feeling good about things, but
in a  melancholy way. That's one more oxymoron of my life...
happy/melancholy.  While Robby's talking with Dodger, my mom comes through the front door
with Tris so I drop my cigarette over the balcony railing and go in to talk
with her. She tells me her and Tris are going shopping and after that they
want to treat Chubby and me to dinner at their restaurant. I text Chubby and
 he's all for a nice dinner there. We agree to meet the moms at the
restaurant  around seven o'clock. Tris goes in her bedroom to change as mom's cell
phone  rings. As she answers it I drift back out on the balcony, and Robby
tells me,  "Dodger, Vinnie, and Connor are going to the movies. Wanna go?"
I'm like,  "Yeah, we don't see enough movies and it'll be fun being with the
Army boys,"  and so that's what we do. We meet the boys outside the multiplex
at the Natick  mall. Lots of smiles, hugs, and pats on the back before we
go inside with me  asking Connor, "Have a good time last night?" Big smile
while blushing a dark  shade of red as he nods his head, "Un huh, how 'bout
you?" I say, "It was a  good time, but I wish I saw more of you." We all get
our ticket and then stand  in line for popcorn. Movies are awesome, but it
cost an outrageous amount of  money for a little bag of popcorn and a small
fountain soda. It's insane and  yet I've never been at the movies without
buying a $4.50 little bag of popcorn  and a $4.00 cup of soda. I need the soda
because I always add a lot of that  special fine popcorn salt from the
canister on the counter. The movie is an  action flick in which maybe thirty bad
guys get killed, there's the obligatory  love angle between unlikely
characters, and then the obligatory car chase, but  the movie's fun and we all enjoy
it. We've goofing around on our way out  reliving some of the action scenes
when I hear, "Dylan!" Looking over I see  Sonny, Dawg, and Devon of the
now-defunct posse boys. I tell Robby, "I'll meet  you guys in Dunkin Donuts. I
wanna say hi to the boys." We decided we need  cold coffee drinks at Dunkin
Donuts, which is right down from the movie  theater.


Going over to the guys, I'm like, "The posse boys!" and we do the old
posse boy greeting with Sonny asking, "Who fucked up your haircut, Dylan?"
Nobody except Sonny and me knows he's been giving me haircuts for the last six
or seven weeks of summer vacation. I say, "Yeah it's fucked-up, Sonny, I
should have gone back to my regular barber." He goes, "Yeah, you really should
 have," and he pinches my butt cheek. The boys tell me about what's been
happening since school started. Nobody's seen Ray, but they've hooked up with
 Bean and the rest of the gang a couple of times. It looks like Ray's the
odd  man out. They're seeing the same movie we just saw and it's going to
start  soon so we can't talk long, but it's way cool seeing them again. They
all make  me feel liked and missed. They'll call me to arrange for haircuts
next  Saturday while Robby's at his meeting. I'm looking forward to that. We
do the  posse boys' goodbye too, just like old times. I get a wet kiss and
then a  tongue lick on my cheek from Sonny and, wow, he smells good. It makes
my dick  move. There's just something about Sonny that rings all my bells,
and he knows  it too. He has always had that awesomely sexy natural scent and
it brought my  mind back to the dreamy sexual trances he has a way of
putting me in. What a  hot sexy kid!

In Dunkin Donuts the guys are up to the counter ready to order when I  walk
in so I call over my choice of iced coffee to Robby. He buys it for me  and
we all sit at a table inside to enjoy our drinks. Dodger asks, "How's your
hangover, Dylan?" I mumble, "Merely an unpleasant memory, Dodger." Connor
says, "Alcohol doesn't solve any problems, that's for sure." I go, "I don't
know about that. Maybe it doesn't solve any problems per se, but then
neither  does milk, ya know. Alcohol at least can help you put a problem in the
back of  your mind for an evening." Robby asks, "What problem do you want to
put at the  back of your mind, Dylan?" He's still thinking about what I said
last night  regarding tweaking some things about our marriage plans. I
smile at him, "No  problems at all, Rob. I was speaking hypothetically." Vinnie
says, "Get this!  I was at the eye doctor when an old Chinese man comes out
of the doctor's  office with drops in his eyes. He sits down in the waiting
room and tells his  wife he has to go back in to see the doctor in twenty
minutes. Then he says,  'Doctor mistaken, he say I have 'catawrack', but I
tell him, no, I got rinkin  continental." Dodger says, "What'd I tell you about
telling jokes, Vinnie?"  Vinnie frowns, "You said not to," and Connor
mumbles, "Good  advice."


I think about the joke and snicker, "That's pretty funny, Vinnie."  Dodger
says, "Don't encourage him, Dylan, please," then he asks, "Robby, did  you
know Linda Blair's pregnant?" Robby goes, "The neighborhood girl that  moved
away a couple of years ago? When did you see her?" Dodger says, "I ran  into
her when Connor, Vinnie, and I were at the mall Friday afternoon. She's
married now. Got married two months ago. I touched her basketball size
pregnant stomach and felt the baby kick. Freaky! That girl's way further along
than two months." Connor says, "Everyone feels comfortable touching a pregnant
 lady's stomach and congratulating her, but I wonder why they don't touch
the  husband's dick and congratulate him." Vinnie says, "They touch her
stomach,  Connor, not her twat. If people touched her twat then it'd be alright
to touch  the guy's cock." Robby and I exchange glances, then I say, "Connor,
you've  been immersed in Dodger's and Vinnie's world too deeply, and it's
starting to  show." He chuckles, mumbling, "Those guys are awesome." We light
cigarettes  and the guy behind the counter yells, "No smoking in here,
guys. Take it  outside... now!" Dodger mumbles under his breath, "Fuck you, and
your donuts,"  but we get up and carry our drinks outside.


We finish our iced coffees outside the coffee shop while we smoke.  After
throwing our empty cups in the trash barrel near the door, Robby says,  "How
'bout keeping me company, Dylan? I need to drop something off at the  office
for dad." I say, "Sure," and as  we're bumping fists with the  others, I
go, "See you goof balls later, we're bouncing," Dodger mumbles,  "Bounce
this," grinning and holding his crotch. I go, "Nobody ever said you  didn't have
class, Dodger." Naturally, as we walk away, he and Vinnie give us  the bird,
both of them grinning and holding their crotches. Robby mutters,  "Pete and
repeat." As we walk towards the pickup, Robby's saying, "Dodger  seemed
like his old self tonight. He's like that when other guys are around,  but when
it's just him and me there seems to be a wall or something between  us.
It's so odd." I shrug, not wanting to take sides between brothers. If I
commiserate too much with one or the other, sooner or later they'll reconcile  and
whatever I said might come back to haunt me. Best to be mum. Robby asks,
"Don't you think it's odd Dodger's acting funny towards me? You know how
tight  he and I have always been." I open the passenger door of the pickup, and
to  avoid the question, I say, "Have you asked him what's wrong?" We both
get in  the pickup with Robby saying, "Yeah, I asked him and he said something
like,  'What could possibly be wrong?' as if I should know what it is. Can
you think  of anything he said to you that might be bothering him?" Again
avoiding the  question, I go, "Huh, what do you think it could be?" I find if
I ask a  question instead of giving an answer to a question, one I'd rather
not answer,  it can sidestep the original question. Robby says, "I can't
imagine unless  it's what I wondered about before. Could he be pissed off that
you and me came  out of the closet together? Although why would that piss
him off?" I shrug,  asking, "What do you need to drop off at the office?" He
says, "Oh yeah, it's  the first draft copies of the outline for the financial
arrangement from the  notes I took last night. Dad wants the top managers
to have copies first thing  tomorrow so they can read it before the nine
o'clock Monday morning manager's  meeting." I'm like, "Huh. Um, how long is the
outline?" and Robby goes  into it much deeper than I care to hear, but it's
got him onto the subject of  business, and off of the subject of Dodger.


It's after six o'clock when we drive onto the parking lot of Dickers
Landscape and Design. I gaze around and it all looks so familiar to me and
brings back mostly fond memories of last summer. The job was more fun than  work.
That's because I became very fond of the guys I worked with. I was  already
in love with Robby and my love for Chubby knows no boundaries, but I
became fond of the other guys who came and went last summer as well. Most of
them were great to work with. Memories of the hot sexy times some of us had in
the back of the truck going out in the mornings get me adjusting my junk.
We  get out of the pickup at the main building and I look at the big sign on
top  of the building, asking, "When's the new sign go up that says, 'And
Son'?" He  goes, "Oh man, not for six to eight months. The new building is
staked out  where the trailer used to be. It'll almost double the square footage
of the  original main building." It's just the very beginning of dusk, plus
the now  cloudy sky caused the security lights to automatically come on and
dimly light  the area. I can still see the stakes outlining the new
building though. I say,  "Oh, the new building will take up some of the parking lot
too." He nods his  head as we walk to the main door. " Robby's keying in
the code on the keypad  for the electronic main lock, saying, "This cuts off
the alarm system and  unlocks the front door at the same time." I follow him
inside letting the door  go behind me.  It's kind of eerie in here with only
the faint night  lights on. We walk from office to office so Robby can drop
a set of papers on  each office's desk. I ask, "Will you have your own
office?" He goes, "When I  graduate, yeah. Until then, no office for me. I'm
just dad's  shadow."


"Well, that's that," Robby mumbles, looking around. Then he takes my  hand,
saying, "Come on, lets see if there's any beer in the manager's lounge."
It's creepy walking through these dimly lit buildings, connected one to the
other, by dark corridors. The manager's lounge isn't big, but it's done up
pretty nicely. There's a connected bathroom with a number of private
showers,  and a kitchen area. Robby says, "This lounge was renovated last season.
Nice  huh?" I go, "Yeah, it's a couple of steps up from the locker room us
peons  use." He chuckles, "Don't let on to the workers bees or they might go
on  strike... ha ha." In the kitchen off the lounge there's a big
refrigerator  stocked with plenty of beers and sodas. Robby grabs two bottles of Coors
and  twists
 off the caps handing a bottle to me. We tap bottles saying, "To  us," and
take a swallow. I could easily do without this beer even though I'm  still
thirsty because of the salty popcorn. Actually one of those sodas would  have
been more enjoyable, but drinking a soda is not as cool as a having beer.
We gotta go for being cool. Robby lights a cigarette as he stares at me.
With  smoke coming out of his nose and mouth, he murmurs, "You're so good
looking,  Dylan, it sometimes takes my breath away. I love your cute nose. It's
cute and  tough looking at the same time." I go, "Ha! My nose was broken in a
fight  during the first semester of my high school sophomore year, but
Chubby and me  got even with the fucker who broke it. Got even really good two
weeks later.  His name was Nick Dawyer. Yeah, he was the senior class bully
at the time. We  ran into him off school grounds and beat the living shit out
of him. Same for  the toad he was with, Nick Somebody, I forget his last
name. Worst fight I've  ever been in and my nose was still sore as hell from
when Dawyer broke it.  Didn't matter though, Chubby and I went nuclear on
their asses. Very  satisfying, but it's a good thing it was off school grounds
or we'd have been  suspended." Robby's nodding his head, "Yeah, you two were
the talk of the  sophomore class for awhile. Of course some pussies thought
it was you two who  were the bullies." I chuckle, "Some of the pussies you
hung out with, huh?" He  says, 'Yeah, I guess, although jocks aren't usually
thought of as pussies. I  knew who you were of course. I already had a
crush on  you. I thought you were the coolest kid in the world. Cutest too.
Nothing has  changed my mind about that." I had no idea who Robby was in my
sophomore year.  Chubby and I were still inseparable in those days and didn't
let anyone into  our little clique. It wasn't until junior year that Chubby
and I branched out.  Robby became the starting second basemen in our junior
year and began getting  accolades for his baseball activities in the school
paper, and later in the  local Framingham paper that covered high school
sports. That's when I started  noticing him.


We share a cigarette, then Robby takes my hand again and leads me to  the
sofa in the lounge. We sit down with Robby's arm going around my neck
pulling me against his side. We both drink from the bottles of Coors beer  while
grinning at each other. Robby kisses my cheek, then says, "Dylan, I've  never
been as happy as I've been recently. If Dodger wasn't acting funny
everything would be perfect." He leans his head over for a kiss on the lips  that's
so sweet and loving my eyes water. "You're my dream come true, Dylan.  My
fantasy that's become real. Few people ever realize their fantasies, but I
have, and it's all because of you. I'll cherish you every day of my life,"
and  another lover's kiss with our faces moving against one another, our noses
 bumping and our lips sucking. My cock gets hard, Robby's taste is in my
mouth,  and his scent is in my head. My free arm is around his neck with the
sides of  our faces coming together now. Robby murmurs in my ear, "I love you
more than  life itself. You're so perfectly desirable and as sexually yummy
as Swedish  fish is sweet." Swedish fish are red gummy candies shaped like
a little fish  and they're Robby's favorite candy of all time. They're
pretty high up on my  list too. I go, "Ahh, a compliment that's hard to top,
Robby." Robby says in a  comical way, "Oh, he called me Robby," like it's a
special treat. I grin,  "Yep, Rob, that compliment deserved a 'Robby'
reference." He chuckles, kissing  my ear, then we sit back and drink some beer. It
tastes better now. I say,  "I'm happy too, Robby. It's not only you who is
excited and thrilled by our  love. It's my dream come true too, ya know." He
says, "That just adds to my  happiness." It's okay to overdo the mushy stuff
once in a while, just don't  make a habit of it. We know how to do it just
right.


Another swallow of beer, then I ask, "Isn't it a little scary the two  of
us being in this big, barely lit office building? You know, are you sure
we're alone? Listen to that." We're both quiet as we listen to the ambient
sounds of the heating system automatically cycling on causing a little air
motion that results in a quietly closing door somewhere in the corridor
outside this lounge, and then there's the quiet creaking of the building.  Robby
says, "Fuck it, we're the only ones here. Who else would be here on a  Sunday
night?" I shrug and we finish our beers while talking quietly about  next
week's dinner date at our favorite Italian restaurant that serves us
cocktails just as if we're twenty-one. We'll be getting legal drinking age in  less
then a year now. We're talking quietly for no reason at all, and that  adds
to the creepiness of being in this building alone. Robby takes my empty
beer bottle from my fingers and puts it on and end table, then smiles at me,
asking, "Do ya want another beer, or anything?" I mumble, "I wouldn't mind
some Swedish fish." He chuckles and leans over to me, murmuring, "You're
better tasting than Swedish fish," and we kiss lovingly again with our arms
going around each other. I go, "Mmmm, Robby," and our tongues lick together
just before a long official French kiss. He tastes so good, beer and all.
His  hands rub up the back of my head as I slowly fall over on my side laying
on  the sofa with Robby on top of me. "I love you, Dylan," and our kissing
gets  more intense as my cock gets harder. Our faces rub together and it
feels so  sexy being desired the way Robby makes me feel. He squirms on top of
me until  I'm laying on my back, one of his legs between mine pressing
against my hard  cock. "Mmmmm," as we kiss our faces continue to move together,
our noses  bumping together, with Robby's doing gentle humps against my groin.



Kissing is so wonderful and Robby's so delicious,  I moan, "Ooooh,  aaah,
mmmm." Feeling out of breath, I slide my lips across his cheek while
inhaling deeply. The sides of our faces now slide together. He smells so sexy,  so
good. We breath deeply together without hearts pounding fast against each
other's chest. Robby's hard cock pokes mine through our pants as our faces
slide back to the front so our lips and tongues can come together for sucking
 deep kisses. We're desperate now and overwhelmed with sexual desire. We
squirm  against one another moaning and getting sloppy with our kissing and
tongue  sucking, spit all around both of our mouths and down our chins. Robby
licks up  the front of my nose leaving it saturated with his sweet smelling
saliva, it  almost smells as if he has been eating Swedish fish. He's
fumbling to undo my  pants, then pulls down my zipper. Sitting up, he mumbles,
"Take your pants  off, baby, please." Then he stands up and drops his pants,
stepping out of  them. As I sit on the sofa, my pants around my ankles, I
stare at his fat cock  that's amazingly hard. It's sticking straight out from
his body like a short  fat wooden pole. A big drop of precum forms at the head
of his pole with his  piss slit opening wide and closing sporadically. I
make a whining sound of  arousal leaning over and dropping off the sofa to my
knees. I take his hard  fat boner in my mouth and suck off the precum.
Another long drool of precum  follows the first one as Robby runs his fingers
through my hair, then pushes  my head away and grabs my shoulders to turn me
around. "I'm gonna fuck you  now, baby. Get around there," as he pushes me,
chest down, on the sofa. Still  on my knees, he says, "Get you ass up, baby!"
I lift my ass up for him to  mount as another whining sound escapes my
throat, "Ummmm, aaah, Robby." I  sound pathetic to myself, but my arousal is
extremely high. Robby leans  against me with his hard cock pressed upwards
between my butt cheeks. He humps  it up and then drags it down against the smooth
skin of my ass. Robby groans,  "Ooooh, this feels good," as his cock wetly
drags up and down my ass crack  again. Then it's the, "Smack! Smack! Smack!"
sounds of a hard spanking that  rings in my ears with a stinging on my butt
cheeks that get me lifting my ass  a little higher. He mumbles, "Good," and
the head of his cock spread the lips  of my asshole, then the head's in
past my sphincter muscle and he's gripping  my hips, pushing his cock steadily
up my ass.


Robby pushes it all the way in, spreading the walls of my rectum as he
makes a low, "Ooooo," moaning sound of sexual pleasure. One final hump and he
leans over my back to rub my shoulders while I quietly moan at how wonderful
 it feels. So good is the feeling of his fat cock inside me I'm pressing my
ass  back into him. It's an unparalleled sexy sensation being dominated by
my  lover. Oh God it's so hot the way he took control. I moan with arousal
as my  rectum adjusts quickly to the fat intrusion and embraces it now while
sending  scintillating sensations outward. My prostate throbs causing my
shoulders to  shudder under Robby's hand with my cock so hard it throbs along
with my  prostate. He murmurs, "You're so special, Dylan," and then he
snuggles his  face against the side of my neck, his hair tickling the side of my
jaw, as he  murmurs, "You smell so wonderfully sexy." He drags his hands
tightly down my  sides straightening-up to grab my hips again while slowly
withdrawing his hard  cock until the engorged head is distending the lips of my
anus. I gasp looking  back at his cute face and he grins at me before pushes
his boner back up my  ass and leans over me again with his chest resting on
my back this time. Robby  asks in a whisper, "Who fucks you best, baby?" I
mutter, "Ahh, oooh. Ummm,  it's you, Rob, you fuck me best." Kissing  the
side of my face he moves  his hips back as I whine in pleasure, "Oooooh, mmmm."
His cock slowly pulls  back and then goes back in smoother this time. In
addition to the sensations  from millions of nerve endings being tantalized by
Robby's iron boner there's  also some kind of psychological thrill on top
of that because this is sex with  my true love, Robby. It adds to my sexual
pleasure to share sex with him  especially when he does it lovingly dominant,
and confidently in-charge.Then,  with Robby still laying his chest on my
back, he begins humping his hips in a  steady fucking motion creating the
sounds of flesh colliding from parts of two  naked male bodies, "Slap, slap,
slap, slap." I'm sucking on my lips  concentrating on how good it feels. So
good I can't put it into words. Robby  grunts quietly with each thrust of his
wooden boner up my ass... a wooden  boner covered with tight skin that slides
tightly and steadily up my ass until  I could scream with sexual pleasure.
"Slap, slap, slap, slap," hypnotically  rhythmic slapping sounds to go with
an ocean of intense sexual pleasure  stimulating the multitude of nerve
endings surrounding my rectum, a serious  erogenous zone.


Steady fucking for quite awhile with Robby's chest against my back  before
he straightens up again, now making an, "Ump," sound with each hard  thrusts
as his orgasm builds. His fingers digging into my hips as I hear  Robby's
groan and the hypnotic, "Slap, slap, slap, slap," sounds of males  fucking.
"It feels so good, Robby." "Ump, ump, ump, ah, aah, aah," "slap,  slap, slap,
slap," "Ah, ah, ah." My orgasm builds and builds until my eyes  squeeze
closed as the metabolic activity in the limbic area of my brain has  more
activity than it can handle and, "Aaaaah, oooh," my back arches and my  cock
throbs as cum shoots out hard against the front of the sofa. Then,  "Ooooh," and
more cum shoots out, and what a sexual high it is. My body shakes  as
sexual sensations explode supernova style. So many sensations of firing  nerve
endings they cause tingling all over my body and then a gasp from Robby  and
desperate humps against me until he leans against my ass shaking while
filling me up with creamy spunk, then again as he gasps for breath. His cum
pours inside my ass and then drools out around his cock as he pumps his cock
back and forth inside me. "Oooh, fuck, Dylan! Jesus, I almost passed out. Oh
man, that was awesome." I'm nodding my head still feeling swirling orgasmic
sensations that are quickly fading in my rectum. Sensations on my cock
settle  down and it begins to soften as the last of orgasmic pleasures drift
away into  the air. One last shoulder shudder and I shake my head, "Oh, Robby,
that's was  so fucking hot." He thrusts his cock up my ass a few more times
and then pulls  out completely sitting on the sofa next to my head  stroking
his cock,  murmuring, "Holy shit, it gets better every time."


Cum drools down my butt cheeks onto the back of my legs as I stand up
slowly. "I'm weak, Rob, wow. Good fucking, boyfriend. Whoa, that never gets
old." He holds a box of Kleenex towards me and I take a half dozen and wipe my
ass, saying, "The first four or five times I got fucked I thought I needed
to  take a crap, but that hasn't happened but a couple of times since then.
My ass  has been seasoned for this by now and it's awesome. I love being a
bottom to  your top, Rob." He mutters, "Call me, Robby," and he pats the
cushion next to  him, mumbling, "Sit down so I can hug your awesome body and
kiss your candy  lips." Grabbing some more Kleenex to sit on, I go, "That's an
offer I can't  refuse...," then stop talking when I see a flashlight beam
bouncing in the  corridor. What the fuck?




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


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



I continue to provide this little advertisement in hopes  that some of you
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
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And I would appreciate it if you would  provide a comment at the site for
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Thanks.

Donny Mumford


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

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