Date: Tue, 3 Feb 2015 10:44:22 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR Chapter  34

DYLAN'S  SOPHOMORE YEAR


Chapter  34


by  Donny Mumford



That's the thing about life: ya never know what experience is waiting for
you from one minute to the next. It could be something good or something
bad,  something unexpected or maybe even something you've anticipated or
yearned for.  It could be just about any fuckin' thing actually. My latest
pleasant surprise  was Tracy. Totally out of nowhere he asked me if he could fuck
me. He explained  he went both ways in high school before finally settling on
a girl named Sandra,  who he's had an exclusive relationship with for the
past two years. Then she  unexpectedly breaks up with him earlier this week.
She'd fallen for a waiter  from Bertuccis restaurant. Luckily for me that
led to what can only be described  as excellent buddy sex with Tracy. It was
buddy sex in it's truest form, and it  was hot too! Tracy is a sexual stud, a
thoroughbred fucker! That dude knows what  he's doing while taking no
nonsense from his sex partner. I'll bet his  girlfriend comes crawling back to
him when she realizes not everyone can fuck  like him. He and I will probably
be doing it again, but I'll wait for Tracy to  bring it up. Tonight was a
good start to my newly reactivated alley-catting  ways, and it happened in an
unexpected and unlikely way. Such is  life.


After flashing one last shot of scotch down in honor of our side sex,
Tracy and I are now walking out of the apartment rejoining those on the crowded
deck. Speaking confidentially, Tracy's telling me, "If anyone asks you why
you  were inside with me for ten or twelve minutes, tell them I needed you
to do a  couple of shots with me while I cried on your shoulder about Sandra
dumping me."  A nod of my head, "Yeah, that's good, Trace," as someone grabs
his arm asking  him something. Tracy stops to talk, but I continue on my
way to the bar. Ryan  calls me before I get there so I go over to him, Felix,
and Felix's girlfriend,  Linda. I'm like, "Yo, how's everyone doing?" as I
take Ryan's beer from his hand  and chug some cold beer. Ryan mutters, "Help
yourself, bro," then asks, "What'd  Tracy want?" I tell him what Tracy told
me to say and everyone's shocked, "Tracy  and Sandra broke up? You gotta be
shitting me." I shrug, "He's real upset about  it too. I guess the bitch
fell head over heels for some stiff, a waiter at  Bertuccis I think it was."
The four of us talk about the break up a little bit  and then Felix wants Ryan
to explain to Linda how it is that Robby, Ryan, and me  made our gay
threesome work. Ryan tries to explain it, but Linda refuses to  believe we're gay
in the first place. She thinks we're putting her on, so she  says to Felix,
"Knock off the bullshit, buster, I didn't fall off a turnip truck
yesterday, ya know," which gets Felix laughing. Another straight couple, friends  of
Felix and Linda, join us and shortly after that Ryan and I say we'll catch
them later and we drift over to the bar for another beer. Swigging beer from
our  bottles we rejoin Chubby, John Beverly, and the three girls they're
with. The  next two hours we all drink too many beers and smoke too many
cigarettes while  recounting outrageous tales of misdeeds and adventures we've
individually or  collectively been involved in at college or high school. By
collectively I mean  some combination of Chubby, Ryan, and me. John Beverly,
me, and Ryan have no  history together yet. Well, I guess after tonight
we've got one now. We tell our  stories embellishing basic facts to increase the
humorous aspects of the  incidents. Many of the stories were unpleasant
events when we were experiencing  them, but looking back on them they seem
funny. Everyone's caught the laughing  bug, so there's lots of loud laughter...
sometimes at things that aren't even  funny. The three girls are basically
our audience since us guys have heard most  of the stories before. The girls
are fascinated that Ryan and I are gay for one  thing. They take our word
that we are, unlike Linda. All three of the girls  claim we're the only
'outed' gay guys they know, which surprises me for some  reason.


We're all pleasantly drunk as each of  us, including the girls, earlier
spent another ten dollars each on tokens for  beers. Eventually though we
decide enough is enough. Chubby, who's usually the  last one to leave a party,
caves in first. His weakened condition caused by  previous hangovers has
finally caught up with him. He says he's gotta get some  much needed sleep and we
all begin saying our goodbyes. Before any of us  actually leaves though,
John Beverly and Chubby are getting the girls' cellphone  numbers. Then
everyone inexplicably decides that one last beer for the road  makes the most
sense. The thinking being, why carry the tokens around in our  pockets when we
can buy another beer and be done with the them altogether. After  drinking
that one last beer for the road Ryan and I become the first ones to  leave.
The last beer put Chubby past his tipping point and he's now officially  too
drunk to be held accountable for his actions. That's the thing about
college, you get to be excused for any misdeeds by simply saying, 'Oh dude, I  was
shit-faced.' That's an acceptable explanation for just about anything short
of murder. We say our goodbyes with hugs and so forth, then Ryan and me are
on  our way.


As Ryan and I walk down the steps he says, like it's  an insightful
discovery, "I don't know for sure, but it looked to me like your  brother and John
Beverly were trying to figure out which of the three girls is  the odd one
out." I mumble sarcastically, "Oh my god, Ryan, you're so observant.  That's
just one of the many reasons you're my hero, dude." He chuckles,  mumbling,
"Bullshit alert," and I get him in a headlock kissing the side of his  head
near his ear and we almost fall down the steps. In his Mini, he asks,
"Aren't you going to nag me to fuck you?" I'm not sure if that's an invitation
or a drunken test to see if I actually am agreeing with his suggestion we
take  it slow in our relationship this time around. Try a new approach since we
sure  didn't take it slow last time. Not sure if he's serious, I'm
noncommittal, "What  difference would it make if I nag you or not, you won't do it
anyway." He says,  "How do you know? I'm half in the bag now so maybe I'll
change my mind." He's  driving twenty-five miles an hour, which is the speed
limit, but no one drives  the speed limit on this road. We're gonna to get
rear-ended if he's not careful.  Anyway, Tracy fucked me so awesomely earlier
tonight I don't have the dire  horniness I had in Ryan's dorm room this
afternoon, so consequently I don't need  to jump at the mere suggestion he might
be serious about us having sex tonight.  He's already said ten times it
won't be tonight, so I don't know what to think.  The thing is though, to me
Ryan's so temptingly sexy I find myself staring at  him trying to figure how
best to approach this. In my newly reactivated  alley-catting handbook,
pointer #7 calls for aggressive nagging for sex only in  emergency situations or
when the guy is especially  irresistible. Otherwise let the other party ask
for it because this  gives you the upper hand. Hmmm, does Ryan qualify as
irresistible though? He'd  certainly qualified in my hornier condition, but
now it's borderline. I'll try  an unexpected tactical move and act like I can
take it or leave it by saying  nothing more. See if I can get him to ask me.

He drives a little further, then burst out with a laugh, saying, "You
don't know whether to nag me or not, do ya?" I say, "Well, Ryan, I've been
thinking my nagging days for sex with you are behind me. I have my pride ya
know, and I've also regained my senses, my common sense especially, and then
there's that world famous willpower of mine to consider. So I'm refusing to
grovel for sex at my hero's feet." He laughs again, then says, "Damn, and I
wanted to do it with you tonight." I go, "Okay, so do I!" Ryan laughs
again,  saying, "Well nag me then. I taught you how to nag last year." I go,
"Pleeeeeease, Ryan, fuck me." We both start laughing, then he says, "It's so
great having you back, Dylan. You're so much fun. I'm really lucky you're
willing to give me another chance at the prize." I go, "I'm no fucking prize!
Stop saying that! Um, where do you want to do it?" He shrugs, "Seems
obvious.  Marty won't be back until tomorrow night at the earliest. I know for a
fact he  has a christening to go to tomorrow afternoon. His sister's baby is
getting  christened and he's the Godfather, so he'll be there. You can sleep
with me  tonight." I go, "Me sleep in that shithole? You two never clean
your room.  There's cut hairs all over the floor, dude." He looks startled
until I  laughingly say, "Whoa, just kidding, dude. It's a great idea. I'd love
to." This  is so cool. Alley-catting again!!


Ryan says, "It's the beers that caused my earlier resolve in resisting  the
temptation of sex with you to fizzle out. It always seems to lessen as my
alcohol intake increases, so now I'm thinking about maybe fucking you four
times. Um, I mean between tonight, again sometime during the night, and
again  tomorrow morning." I go, "Duh! That's three times, dude, not four." He
laughs,  "Oh, okay we'll squeeze another fuck in there someplace, maybe while
we're  showering together." I yell, "Have sex in the shower of a communal
lavatory? Are  you out of your fucking mind?" He hiccups twice, then mutters,
"We'll work  something out." Hmmm, interesting development we got here. Then
he adds, "I'm  hopeful your contention that I'm uber sexy, cute, and
sexually hot will be  stronger after all that fucking." I mumble, "I can see that
as a very real  possibility." He goes, "Depending on how sore your ass will
be, I assume. Hee  hee, be careful what you wish for, Dylan. Maybe I won't
be dominant like you  want, but I can sure fuck you long and hard." I mumble,
"Yeah, we'll just see  about that. See if you can back up your bragging,
stud." He goes, "Oh come on!  You know damn well I can back it up. How about
the other nights we've slept  together." Huh, it's funny that Tracy's fuck is
quickly fading into the  background of my mind because now Ryan's got me
squirming on the seat groping  myself. He glances over, "Right, Dylan?" and
sees me groping myself. He mutters,  "Hot shit, you're horny for me... this is
gonna be awesome! You're not the only  horny one in this Mini." I go, "Show
me no mercy, Ryan. Leave nothing left of me  but my skin and bones and a
pulsating ass." He laughs, "I maybe exaggerated a  little about the frequency,
but you'll be smiling when we're through." He pulls  up to a four way stop
sign and frowns when another car pulls up to the stop sign  on the street to
our left. I'm thinking, 'Shit! Ryan will sit at a four way stop  sign until
every fucking car in North Andover passes by', so I say, "Ya know,  Ryan,
you got here first by half a second, so you should be the one who goes
first." He shrugs, asking, "You sure I was here first?"I nod, "Yeah, go, go,"
and he drives past the stop sign at the same time the other car does, and
there's a collision with Ryan screaming, "No, no, no! Fuck!" Huh, I'll probably
 get blamed for this, but it's the other car's fault. The driver of the
other car  gets out of his car screaming, "You teenage-drivers are all
incompetent  asshole's! See what you did." I get right out, taking a picture of the
collision with my cellphone, yelling, "He was here first! You needed to
wait. You're the asshole, not him."


Ryan gets out and looks at his right fender that crushed in against the
right front tire. The other car's bumper did the damage although the bumper is
 barely scratched. The guy's driving a Ford Expedition which is a large
station  wagon basically. A big ugly heavy vehicle against Ryan's cool little
Mini Cooper  and guess who got the worst of it by far? Another car drives up
behind the Ford  and honks it's horn. The Ford driver, a big middle age guy,
says to Ryan, "Don't  you fucking go anywhere," pointing at him menacingly.
Ryan looks at me, "What  should I do, Dylan?" The man gets in his station
wagon, backs away from Ryan's  Mini and pulls around it, parking at the curb.
The guy in the other car, a guy  in his mid-twenties, calls out to Ryan,
"Get that tinker toy piece of shit out  of the fucking street, numb-nuts." I
say to the guy, like I'm trying to be  reasonable, "Really? You're that big
of a jerkoff, dude? He just had an  accident, what the fuck?" He gives me the
fingers pulling around Ryan's Mini and  drives off. "Asshole!" I scream,
then tell Ryan to drive his car over behind the  Ford. As he does that, I'm
calmly saying, "All you two need to do is exchange  information with the other
driver." Unfortunately, as we're rolling across the  intersection a
tearing sound is heard, like metal ripping. Ryan goes,  "What's that?" I'm hanging
out the window checking the wreckage and see the  crumbled fender has cut
into the tire. I feel my side of the Mini drop down a  little as the tire
goes flat. Oh joy. I'll save this news until we get rid of  the other guy. I
say, "I don't know. Just park behind that guy." The man from  the other car,
plus his passenger, a kid about our age, get out of the Ford as  Ryan gets
out to meet them. The man says, "I'm calling the cops," and the kid  says,
"Don't do that, dad, fer chrissakes, it's a fender bender. Don't get  dipshit
cops involved or we'll be here all night. Give this guy your info, and  he
give his to you. Let the insurance companies sort it out." The father's still
pissed, probably because he knows it's his fault. He ran into Ryan and he
knows  it. I hate the police generally speaking, plus I've got a picture of
the  collision showing the Ford ran into the Mini Cooper. Ryan can send it to
his  insurance company making the police redundant in this situation. I
say, "Yeah,  listen to your son, lets get this over with." The man says to me,
"You keep your  mouth shut!" I mumble, "Another charm school dropout I see."
The guy's son grins  at me. Then I ask Ryan, "Do you have something to
write with? We do not want to  see any cops." Ryan's frowning and pissed-off as
he gets a paper tablet and a  pen out of the glove box. The major reason I
don't want the cops showing up is  Ryan's been drinking and that would make
the accident his fault, plus other  possible inconveniences for Ryan like a
drunk driving charge and a night in  jail. The bottom line is, it's the other
driver's fault and he'll get the  'points' against his driving record. In
Massachusetts you don't want 'points' on  your MVR record because your
insurance rates go up.

Ryan's like in shock that his 'baby' was in an accident. He said when we
were going into Burton earlier tonight that he's never had a fender bender
and  he wants to be able to say that at the end of this night. Unfortunately
the  chance to say that is out the window now. The Ford driver has calmed
down and  he's civilly exchanging license and motor vehicle registration
information with  Ryan, both copying down the other's info. That takes five
minutes or so. I light  a cigarette checking out the Ford's passenger.  Kinda an
interesting  looking lad about my size, eighteen or nineteen years old. He's
wearing a hoodie  with the hood up, which is such a sexy look. I go, "Yo
dude, you still in  school?" He glances over, "Yeah, I'm a senior at North
Andover High, how 'bout  you?" I say, "Sophomore at Merrimack," and he goes,
"Really? You look like  you're a junior in high school. But shit, that's cool."
He's kinda cute in a  weird sorta way, as he asks, "Do you mind?" taking my
cigarette from my fingers,  our hands sliding together. He smirks at me
sexily while sneaking a drag off my  cigarette behind his father's back. He
lets the smoke drift from his mouth as he  hands the cigarette back to me. I
try for a cool expression, asking, "Any hot  babes at North Andover High this
year? You gettin' any?" He blushes, "Nah, I'm  mostly just a dumb jock, not
a ladies' man." I go, "Oh yeah, ya don't date,  huh?" He snickers, "I didn't
say that exactly, how 'bout you? You got a  girlfriend?" Before I can
answer, the kid's father says, "Let's go, Josh." Josh  says to me, while giving
me another  cute grin, "See ya, Merrimack. Maybe  I'll check you out at your
college some time." Then he says his cellphone number  giving me a 'look',
and I tell Ryan to write it down. As the kid smirks at me  from the passenger
seat, I hold up my fist extending the little finger and the  index finger
giving the kid the old 'Rock on!' sign. He smirks, "Yeah, you  too, dude."
He's looking back at me as his father drives away. Hmmm, that was  interesting.


Ryan's looking at the damage, "Oh shit! Look at that, my tire's flat too.
Goddammit! This sucks, Dylan. What'll we do?" Staring at the departing
hottie, I  take a drag off my cigarette, then say, "Well, obviously you're gonna
need to  get the car towed, but it's probably too late to have it towed
tonight. I'll  call somebody to pick us up and drive us home. In the morning
we'll take care of  this little mess." He asks, "How?" I go, "We'll Google
North Andover body shops  and decide on one, then get it towed there. You got
towing coverage, right?" He  nods his head, "Yeah. Um, ya think it'll be okay
leaving it here over night  though?" Like we got a fucking choice. I say, "I
don't see why not, Ryan,  there's cars parked all along this street. These
houses don't have garages, so  it's street parking." He's depressed leaning
up against his car and I'm  thinking, 'Please don't fucking cry, Ryan'. How
the hell can I hero worship a  dude who cries because his car got dinged up?
Ryan mumbles, "A fucking accident.  My first one." I give his shoulders a
hug, "It's not like this kinda thing  doesn't happen fifty times a day, Ryan.
It wasn't you who's at fault anyway.  It's the other asshole's insurance
that has to pay to make this baby look good  as new." He shrugs, "Even so, it
sucks because I won't have the car while it's  getting fixed." Jesus Christ,
my whining hero. I might need to rethink the hero  part where he's
concerned. I tell him to write down the streets of this  intersection so he'll be
able to tell the tow truck guy where the car is. We'll  probably need to meet
him here too, I guess. I'm a little bit hammered, so  details aren't my
strong point at the moment.

I call Chubby first of course, but he doesn't answer. Probably in bed by
now. After four more calls I can't get anyone on the phone. That's mostly
because guys aren't dumb, any call coming in this late means trouble of some
sort so they turn their phone off. Finally I try Tracy and he answers right
away. "Dylan, really? This soon?" and as he's chuckling, I go, "Not that! I
need  another kind of favor. Can you come get Ryan and me? We were in an
accident and  he can't drive the car." Tracy asks, "Jeez, I'm sorry, anybody
get hurt?" I go,  "No, just  can't drive the car. We'll need to have it
towed. The  fender's embedded in the right front tire." He sighs, "Okay, where
are you, I'll  be right there." I tell him and ten minutes later he drives up
and we get in.  Ryan hasn't said anything from the time I started making
phone calls. He's not  saying anything in the backseat of Tracy's new BMW
3-Series convertible either.  I tell Tracy the details of what happened and he's
sympathetic, but mostly  concerned if police were involved because Ryan was
underage drinking, and that  could have led back to Tracy's speakeasy.
Relieved there were no police he's  happy to drive us to Merrimack. Ryan gets out
and thanks Tracy profusely. I wait  to see if Ryan looks for me to get out
with him. I figured our four-fuck night  is off, and I'm right. Ryan says,
"I'll call you tomorrow, Dylan. Thanks for  helping me back there."


Tracy drives me the short distance to my apartment, saying, "Dylan, we
gotta have a date." I go, "Nah, lets let it happen on it's own, Trace. It's
hotter that way, but you're right that we do need to revisit that favor thing
again only this time it won't be a favor. It'll be a mutual endeavor. You
fuck  good, dude." We're sitting in his BMW outside the front entrance of my
apartment  building, Tracy says, "Um, I just want to say I'm sorry I got a
little rough  with you during, you know, but after abstaining for two fucking
years an  amazingly strong urge came over me to share sex with another
dude. It was kinda  freaky-hot to tell ya the truth." I mumble, "Whatever. Yeah,
it was hot, Tracey. And get as rough as you want."  He looks at me, "Yeah?
That's about as rough as I get, but it sure was hot  topping you like that.
Awesome ass, by the way, but you already know that.  Thanks, man, you made
my night." I'm right on the verge of suggesting we do it  right now, but my
recent habit of turning down opportunities for side-sex kicks  in and I pat
his shoulder, "Thanks for the ride, Trace, you're a lifesaver,  dude." I get
out and give a wave as he drives away. I'm a little pissed off at  myself as
I go up the stairs to our second floor apartment. Tracy's a new, hot  and
rough 'top' for me and I should'a followed through. Oh well, I'm getting
back in the grove and so what if it takes a couple of days to get up to speed.
In the meantime, not a bad start.


Inside the apartment I see Chubby's bedroom door is closed, so he's home
safely for the night. I'll skip taking a shower until tomorrow morning 'cause
 I'm wiped out. I take a piss, wash up, brush my teeth, and hit the sack.
Using  Robby's pillow I smell him on it while wondering how his date went
with Danny  Monday. Funny that I'm not even very jealous. I know who's first in
Robby's  heart and he's first in mine. Okay, I sort of inferred to Ryan he
has a chance  to get me to changing my mind about Robby and maybe replacing
him with Ryan, but  I only agreed to the possibility because I can't predict
the future. How do I  know it couldn't happen in the next three years? It's
highly unlikely, I know  that much. It's a very long long-shot, but I can't
be positive Robby will still  want to marry me three years from now, so a
contingency plan is advisable. Tracy  and Sandra's broke-up after going
together for two years so nothing's guaranteed  when matters of the heart are
involved. After going together, more or less, for  the last three years the
odds are extremely good that Robby will want to marry  me, but nothing is a one
hundred percent certainty in this life. Nothing! Well  death, but that's
not life. Too many random happenstance's lurking around every  corner to make
long range predictions. What I'm basically telling myself is, I  didn't lie
to Ryan. I feel about him the way I said I did, but none of us knows  for
sure what's in store for us. Hell, Ryan might not even be interested in me
one, two, or three years from now, or next week for that matter. Who the fuck
knows?


I know one thing, and it's that I fall asleep quickly, and I know another
thing... I just woke up. My wristwatch tells me it nine-thirty and my first
inclination it to drift off back to sleep except I gotta help Ryan. Oh
balls,  but we need to get his car situation straightened out. As I lay here in
bed,  nursing a manageable hangover, I text Ryan to see if he's up yet. I
guess it was  those shots of scotch whiskey I had with Tracy that are mainly
the culprits  behind my hangover. I could have handled the beers okay. The
shots of scotch  were worth it though considering what they led to. Ryan text
back that he on the  toilet. I text him, 'TMI, call me'. Sober now it's
obvious to me what the first  thing he needs to do is file an accident report
with his insurance company. When  he calls me ten minutes later I tell him
that. He says, "I did something better  than that. I called dad and laid this
mess on him. He took down all the  information and he's gonna take care of
everything for me." I mumble, "Spoiled  rotten to the core, huh?" and Ryan
says, "I owe you four fuck's, Dylan, if my  memory isn't playing tricks on me.
So am I still rotten to the core?" I go, "Let  me rethink that." Ryan
laughs, "You're awesome! Except for the accident,  yesterday was the most fun I've
had since the last time I hung-out with you." I  go, "Oooh, Ryan, that's so
sweet, dude. Thanks." He goes, "It's true too. Can  you get a ride over
here, I'm cleaning the place picking up shit and I've got  this cheap vacuum
cleaner sucking up all my hair that you cut off my head  yesterday, as well as
tiny blond clippings of your hair." I ask, "Are you saying  you're sorry
you got the buzz cut now?" He says, "No way, I love my buzz cut. I  got up
this morning and my hair was ready for the day. I'm a little hungover  though."
Jesus, hungover and cleaning his room. Yikes, hideous combination! I  say,
"I'll text you later and we'll make plans. Right now I'm gonna try to get
more sleep. Good job transferring your problem with the car to the rents, by
the  way." He goes, "Yeah, that's what they're there for and it makes them
feel I  still need them." We end the call and I try to think of one time in
my life I  shoveled off a problem I had to my mom. Not a single one comes to
mind.


Snuggling under the covers I'm hoping to go back to sleep and while I
don't think I succeeded, somehow it's now after ten o'clock. Okay, what do I
gotta do today?' Maybe sex with Ryan this afternoon and definitely sex with my
 boyfriend tonight. Before that though there's a Patriot game on TV at one
o'clock, so that's appointment TV right there. Love the National Football
League  games on Sunday afternoons. The four-thirty Sunday afternoons games
are pretty  fucking good too. And the Sunday night games at eight-thirty
aren't bad either.  Ditto for Monday night football and Thursday night football
as well. Hmmm, I  need a shower first, and I also need to do some studying I
guess, and then  there's that paper due for a class tomorrow, but other
than that I'm free for  the day. How the fuck am I gonna do all this and watch
the games too? I could  get up early tomorrow morning to study and do the
paper then. You know, when I'm  fresh first thing in the morning. Well, the
actual first thing I gotta do right  now is get out of bed and begin my
Sunday. After a shower and other bathroom  necessities I get dressed and make
myself coffee in the kitchen. Then remember  to take three Tylenol with a glass
of orange juice. No cigarette this morning  due to my minor hangover so I
get the Sunday Globe and start reading the sports  page sitting on the sofa
sipping my coffee. Robby texting me interrupts a story  I was reading about
today's Pats game. Robby and I text back and forth telling  each other about
our nights last night, neither of us mentioning anything about  sex other
than saying we're both looking forward to us getting to bed early  tonight.
That's code for us having sex. We text about Ryan's car accident  mostly, then
Robby reminds me about the studying I need to do, and the paper due
tomorrow that I already knew about. My idea about doing it tomorrow morning gets
shot down my Robby, so apparently he hasn't fully embraced the concept that
he's  being too bossy in my life. Both of us end our texting with 'Love ya,
me'.  Sitting here a minute with the half read sports section in my hand,
then I'm  like, 'Fuck it!' Getting my study guide out of my backpack I start
studying for  the quiz. Not wanting to be the only sap studying on Sunday
morning, I text Ryan  that he better think about doing it too. He texts back,
'Can't, I'm cleaning'. I  grin thinking, 'I'm telling Robby,' then laugh to
myself. It's kinda fun having  Robby as our leader, especially if he lightens
up a little. I get into a serious  studying frame of mind and every once in
a while glance over to see if there's  any activity in Chubby's bedroom.


During the next hour I go over the study material three time saying it to
myself in my head and then out loud. Interspersed with that I get texts
from,  and send short text back to: Cory, Sonny, Bean, my mom, another one from
Robby,  and lastly one from Ryan saying he wants to fuck me. Huh, so it
looks like the  worm's turned, or however that obscure saying goes. Ryan's
nagging me for sex  now instead of me nagging him. Funny how that works. I text
that I'm gonna watch  the Pats game and invite Ryan to join me. We'll figure
out when we can sneak in  some sex during the game. Texting is awesomely
better than talking on the phone.  It's succinctly to the point, and yet you're
still communicating with friends  and relatives, but you're doing it in one
tenth the time of a cellphone call. I  don't tweet though. Haven't had the
urge to get into that yet. I'm deep into  studying when Chubby comes out of
his bedroom wearing only his boxer shorts.  "Where's the Tylenol, bro?" I
nod at the kitchen bar where I left the bottle.  Wow, what a hot body my
brother has. Chubby takes three pills out of the bottle  and drinks OJ right from
the container swallowing them. "This sucks, Dylan. I  might not survive this
 Thanksgiving break. Hangovers like five days in a row and  I only had a
few beers last night." Yeah, closer to twelve. He plops down on the  sofa next
to me, saying, "Hug me, Dylan, I need a hug." Hugging him I give him a
kiss on his cheek, then his lips. He mumbles, "It's awesome being loved by my
brother, but why can't I find romantic love, bro? I wanna be in love, head
over  heels like you and Robby." I say, "Hey, that reminds me. You're talk
with Robby  about him being too controlling of me has him thinking about what
you said, and  more or less agreeing with you. He said he's going to
apologize for scuffing at  your advise." Chubby's like, "Oh, yeah? Huh, I forget
what I said to him, but  good for Robby." I go, "Yeah, he's not stubborn all
the time," and Chub's like,  "Yeah, it ain't easy admitting you're wrong,
although I'm merely assuming that's  true since I've never been wrong myself."
I say, "I know that, Chub, you've  always been right about everything.
That's why you're my hero." He makes a face  at me, then chuckles, mumbling,
"Damn straight."


He lays his head back on the sofa as I'm lazily running my fingers  through
his hair, "You need a haircut, Chub," and he's like, "I'm too weak for
that now. I'm gonna lay on this sofa and watch the Pats game, but before that I
 need lots of food in my stomach to soak up the beer." I'm like, "What?
Last  night you claimed solid food would make you barf," and he mumbles, "That
was a  hard liquor hangover yesterday, and this is a beer hangover today.
It's the  volume with beer hangovers you've gotta deal with." I tell him,
"Take a shower.  That always make you feel better, and then I'll treat you to a
big juicy  Fuddrucker's cheeseburger and a milkshake." He nods his head, "An
excellent  plan. Are you gonna watch the game with me?" I go, "Of course! I
think Ryan's  coming over too." He goes, "Yeah? Maybe I'll ask John Beverly
to join us. Hey,  bro, do you think you can you get us a case of beer from
Tracy. I mean without  advance notice. If so, we'll get some dip and chips,
some chicken wings and shit  like that and have a guy's football afternoon.
The four-thirty game today is  good too. We'll get to watch the Jets get
their asses handed to them by Manning  and the Broncos." I'm like, "What the
fuck, a case of beer? What about your  hangover?" He shrugs, "I'll have to put
on my big boy pants and suck it up, bro.  We have obligations as college
students to continually make one stupid choice  after another. I'll deal with
the accumulated hangovers tomorrow during classes  at Merrimack. Why waste a
perfectly good Sunday?" I mutter, "You make a lot of  sense, Chub." He pats
my shoulder, groans getting up, and then goes for his  shower. I'm mumbling
under my breath on the way to my bedroom, 'Yes, Rob, I'll  do the paper for
tomorrow now, like I'm told'. Sitting at my computer I reread  the
assignment, then begin typing what I think the professor wants to read.  Halfway
through it I stop to daydream, wishing by some miracle Chubby, Robby,  Ryan,
and me could live together forever. That would be a perfect  life.


I finish the paper just as Chubby's coming in my bedroom looking better,
and smelling good, saying, "Let's get that cheeseburger, Dylan." After
printing  out the paper I'm feeling so fucking good. I'm done the studying and now
the  paper is done too. Robby's right sometimes, I gotta admit that. Damn,
I feel  like the rest of the day is mine now. It's a good feeling. I drive
the Jeep to  Fuddrucker's with Chubby pretending his head isn't aching.
Inside we're in line  behind a couple of giggling girls. Why do girls giggle so
much? Annoying! Chubby  starts in with some corny pick up lines for the girls
as I glance around the  restaurant for eye candy of my own. I hear Chub go,
"Hey, excuse me, ladies, I  lost my phone number and I was wondering if I
could use yours?" Giggle, giggle,  giggle. Jesus! The girls are saying
something and Chubby says, "Oh yeah? Well,  would either of you girls be
interested in going halves on a baby?" Giggle,  giggle, giggle. Then he goes, "No,
seriously, is  there a baker in your  family?" One of the gigglers asks,
"Why?" and Chub says, with me mouthing it  along with him, "You've got a nice set
of buns, so I thought..." Giggle, giggle,  giggle. Oh brother. No cute guys
that I can see. Well, real cute guys are kinda  rare. Then, when there's
only the gigglers in line between us and the register  guy, the guy who takes
the food orders, there's a problem. Houston, we have a  problem. The girls
were giggling so much they never decided  what they want  for lunch. They
can't make up their minds as they argue, giggle, and argue.  After a couple of
minutes, Chubby says to the pompous older guy at the register,  "Hey, excuse
me, mister register guy." Pointing at me, Chub says, "We know what  we want
and we've got money in our hands, so how 'bout...." The guy says, "Get
back in line there. It's swell you know what you want, just wait your turn and
let the girls decide what they want." Chubby says, "Yeah, that's cool, but
why  not..." The guy says, "Wait your turn!" Moron! Chubby sighs, "Yeah,
sure thing,  mister cockalorum." Then to me, "Mister big deal here, huh? He's
probably  ass-kissed his way from bus boy to working the register at
Fuddrucker's and,  whoa, he's still only in his forties so who knows... maybe
assistant manager by  the time he's fifty. Fucking jerk off." The guy's head snaps
up, but now there  are others murmuring behind us at the delay. The asswipe
at the register,  letting his tiny amount of authority go to his head,
refuses to hurry the girls.  Now Chubby's not doing his pick-up lines with the
girls, instead it's, "Ladies,  fer chrissakes it's not rocket science. Order
something!" One of the girls turn  around and says, "Fuck you, shorty!" just
like that. Obnoxious, but I prefer it  to the giggling.


We finally get to place our orders, but only after the asshole at the
register says, "No smart ass comment from you my friend, or you can step out of
line and go to Burger King or wherever. You college kids don't run things
around  here, you just think you do." There's simply nothing you can say to
some people.  This guy's about forty years old and he's pumping up his ego
being an  authoritative register clerk? Well, what's there to say, it's
pathetic. We place  our orders and pay. Then get sodas instead of milkshakes, as I
ask Cubby, "Have  you ever seen that guy here before?" He shrugs, "Nope,
and I've already  forgotten him. A forty-five year old man running a cash
register at a food  joint. Fuck him! I'm just glad it's not me." We sit with
Scott Tinsdale and Ears  Henderson, "Guys, whassup?" I ask, "You guys have any
trouble placing your  order?" Scott says, "You're referring to the dick with
the Napoleon complex?"  Chubby goes, "Yeah, the self-important little man
at the register." They shrug,  "Fuck 'em. Jeff did I hear you use that 'go
halves on a baby' line?" Chubby  chuckles, "Yeah, those twats weren't worth
any heavy duty pick-up lines like,  'Babe, did you sit in a pile of sugar or
something. You got yourself a sweet ass  there." We all go, "Oh fuck... that
sucks too." Ears says, "I'm working on this  line. 'Hey, I'm hung like a tic
tac, wanna freshen your breath?' Lots of eye  rolling at that one. Scott
says, "How 'bout you ask a chick, 'Do you know what  winks and fuck's like a
tiger?' She says, 'No, what?' and you give her a wink."  I go, "How's that
line working out for you, Tinsdale?" He's like, "None of Ear's  or my lines
have worked so far, but we're still only in the first semester, so  we got
time to score," and Chubby adds, "First semester of your sophomore year."  Ears
goes, "Yeah, we still got plenty of time. We'll score before graduating,
I'm almost fairly sure of it."


The buzzer they gave us goes off indicating our foods ready. It's cooked
to order here. That's one of the reasons we put up with simpletons like the
guy  at the cash register. The burgers rock! And, the 'Five Guys' burgers
rock too,  but the franchise in Peabody is too much trouble to get to. If 'Five
Guys' ever  opened a restaurant near Fuddrucker's it's be interesting to
see who'd get the  most business. Nothing like stiff competition to bring down
prices and improve  service. The rest of the lunch conversation never
elevated itself above the  level of corny pick-up lines, but that happens
sometimes. Especially if your  dinning companions are Scott and Ears. The greasy
food works miracles though and  my hangover is merely a slight annoyance after
eating. Ryan text that he needs a  ride to our apartment and John Beverly
text saying he'll join us during the  first quarter sometime. Chubby and I
are on our way to get Ryan now. When we  pick him up we'll go to Tracy's and
I'll try for a case of beer. If that doesn't  work, we're out of luck. It'll
be Cokes and finger food. Chubby says, "I  desperately need a couple of
beers to subdue this hangover. A temporary fix that  I'll pay for tomorrow
probably, but I'll worry about that then, ya know." Yeah,  but I'm mostly
wondering when Ryan and I will have a chance to screw. It's been  more than two
months since we've done it together and I've got the sexual hot's  for him.
Looks like he's not just a fleeting whim of mine. Still, it could be  only
temporary heat for him because it's been so long between any sexual  activity
with him and my brain has this stored up information about how  extremely hot
we once were together. Not easy to forget something that  incredible. It's
true his namby/pamby behavior about the accident last night  took some of the
shine off the way I was seeing Ryan, but there's something  indescribable
about him that strikes me as sexy as hell. I don't know what it is  exactly,
but I can say the same for Bean. It'd be nice to know what it is in  both
cases, but it's not imperative that I know. They're still sexy whether I  know
why or not.

At Merrimack Chubby gets out letting Ryan sit in the middle. Chubby wants
the shotgun seat and normally I don't like sitting in the middle either,
that is  unless the guy on one side or the other is cute. Ryan gets in
mumbling, "Hey,  Chubby," and then scoots over to me squeezing my thigh close to my
nuts, "Hi,  Dylan!" The back of his hand drifts over my pecker and then
pushes down on it  accidentally on purpose, making me grin. Ryan still hasn't
shaved his sparse  beard and it looks sexy on his baby face, especially the
scraggily whiskers at  the bottom of his chin. He goes, "Dad called, the car's
all taken care of. I've  got the name of the body shop, the tow guy got the
spare key from the magnetized  little box on the engine mount, and a week
is all it'll take to fix my Mini. A  replacement fender from the factory and
a new tire." I ask, "Feeling better?" He  goes, "Yep," then rests his hand
right on my cock and balls supporting himself  as he leans over to my
driver's side window waving his other hand, then giving  the finger at some kid
who's giving the finger back. Ryan sits back, "That's Jim  Target from my dorm.
He's a funny dude. We always give each other the finger  whenever we see
one another, no matter who we're with." I mutter, "How mature of  you and
Jim." I back the Jeep up and then drive towards route 114. Ryan asks  Chubby,
"Who the Pats playing today?" He goes, "The Ravens. Ya wanna chip in for  a
case of beer and some snack foods like chicken wings, chips and dip, and what
else should we get, Dylan?" I shrug, "Pizza?" He goes, "John Beverly's
bringing  two pizza's. I go, "Holy shit, there's only four of us. That's enough
food  already." Then I ask something that's been on my mind, "Hey, Chub, how
come  everybody calls John by his first and last name? I do it most of the
time  myself." He goes, "Fuck if I know. Ya get a name or a nickname and it
sticks for  reasons unknown. He's John Beverly, that's about it." I go,
"That clears it up  for me."


At Tracy's the kid who collected money for tokens at the top of the steps
last night is sitting on the deck drinking a beer and smoking a cigar. He
waves  at me as I get to the stop of the steps, "No, dude, it's a no go today.
Pats  game. Tonight around eight Tracy will probably open the deck." I say,
"Yeah,  well I don't want to hang out here anyway. I want to buy a case of
beer. What  brand does he have for sale? Still the Corona?" He says, "No
good. Ya gotta  order it ahead of time. No exceptions to the rule, sorry,
dude." I guess he  forgot my name since last night. I know I've forgotten his. I
say, "Do me a  favor, tell Tracy it's me who wants to buy a case. We're
tight, dude." He shrugs  and gets up slowly, like he's eighty years old, "Okay,
Dylan, but it ain't gonna  do you any good. Hard and fast rule, ya know. If
he does it for one..." and he  spreads his hands. I guess he does remember
my name. He saunters inside and  three minutes later comes out carrying a
case of Corona. He passes it off to me,  mumbling, "Fucking rules are meant to
be broken I guess. He said he'll collect  whenever he sees you, it's $30.00.
Guess because this is the last case of  Corona, it's bargain priced. I
don't know what the fuck's going on though, he  was selling this same beer for
$45.00 a case yesterday." I go, "Yeah, is that  right? Thanks, man,
appreciate it."


Carrying the case down the steps I'm thinking I could collect on a $45.00
case from the other three guys, but then decide I'd rather brag how I got a
special deal from Tracy. That's what I do. Chubby's laughing, "Sonofabitch,
I  didn't think you could get a case without ordering ahead. How'd you do
that? And  for $30.00. Damn! Way to go, Dylan." We get a big bag of chips,
pre-made onion  dip, and assorted chicken wings at Stop & Shop in their
prepared food  section. There's hot wings, barbecue wings, fried wings, and
Chinese wings.  Twenty-four total. Back to the apartment by ten minutes to one.
We've just had  lunch so the snacks won't come out until halftime probably.
The beer's cold and  after we each grab a bottle, Ryan put the rest in the
refrigerator and I collect  six bucks off him and Chubby, then Ryan and me give
Chubby eight bucks each for  the finger food. We'll collect from John
Beverly when he gets here. The wings  and pizza will be reheated in the oven when
we're ready to eat. Twenty-four  wings and twenty-four cans of beer. A nice
even half-dozen for each of the four  of us. The game's on and we watch it
while kibitzing about the various good and  bad plays and about other stuff
in general. For important games I like to watch  it with as few other guys
as possible. This is one of sixteen regular season  games and while they're
all important some are more important than others  depending who the Pats are
playing. For playoff games I like to concentrate on  the game so the fewer
guys I'm watching it with the better. If the Pats aren't  in the game I'm
watching there could be fifty guys watching it with me and I  wouldn't care.


John Beverly comes with two pizzas and his roommate at the beginning of
the second quarter. Well that fuck's us up as far as the even split with the
chicken wings, but since the roommate brought a six pack of beer with him,
the  split on the beer is still an even half-dozen apiece. The roommate is
introduced  with casual fist bumps for all. His name's Christopher. One of
those guys who  insist on his proper name, so of course Chubby immediately
calls him Chrisy,  which gets a frown, but no actual complaint from Christopher.
He's tall with  high cheek bones and a nose that's too large for his narrow
average-looking  face. Brown hair cut in sort of a helmet cut like some
woman barbers at  Supercuts will give you if you're not specific about what you
want. He's quiet  which is normal since he doesn't know us, so that's cool.
John Beverly's not  quiet though. He's very outgoing which he'd need to be
if he's hanging with my  brother. I like John Beverly alright and if Chubby
likes him I gotta think he's  cooler than I perceive him to be the few times
I've been in his company. Last  night he was pretty good though. Chubby
reheats the wings and one of the pizzas  at half time. I get out the chip and
onion dip which we all finish before the  other stuff's reheated. "We should
have gotten two tubs of onion dip, Chub," and  then Christopher wants to
know why I call my brother Chubby. To me Chubby says,  "I was the one who said
we should get two packages of dips, Dylan," and to  Christopher he says,
"Chubby's short for Jeffrey. It's just an abbreviation,  Chrisy." John Beverly
laughs spitting little pieces of potato chips on the  mostly empty dip bowl,
so Chubby says, "You can have the rest of the dip, John  Beverly."


Everything, including the second pizza gets eaten during the third  quarter
and some of us grab a cigarette on the balcony before the start of the
forth quarter. By the end of the game we've all had four beers each. There's
another game to watch so Chubby, John Beverly and Christopher go out to get
more  beer. Christopher has two more six packs in his dorm room, plus they're
getting  another order of chicken wings for the four-thirty game. When all
three of them  leave, Ryan and I have another cigarette on the balcony
talking about classes we  have tomorrow. Ryan says he did the paper that's due,
but he still needs to  study for the quiz. I'm telling him he needs to be
more disciplined about his  time management. I get a kick out of giving him the
little lecture I heard from  Robby earlier. As I'm doing that he's grinning
because he knows I'm bullshitting  him. I keep rubbing a couple of my
fingers against his barely visible beard on  his chin and upper lip. He reaches
up and takes my hand holding it at his side,  saying, "Don't do that unless
you wanna get me turned-on for some reason." With  my other hand I push his
glasses up his cute nose, then rub his chin again  smirking at him. "You
brat," he says, "I think you need a spanking." Leaning  fully against him now,
my head leaning down so my nose bumps his, then I lick  across his lips. He
puts a hand behind my head and holds it there as he gives me  the special
kiss he saves only for me, making my cock get very tight. We make  out for a
couple of minutes with my body pressing his against the railing. He's  still
holding my hand, but I'm using my other one  to squeeze his left butt  cheek.


Taking a deep breath, squeezing my hand, Ryan gasps, "Ya think we have
time?" I nod my head, "It'll need to be a quickie. We can do it in my bedroom."
 He leads me down the hall to my bedroom and I click the lock on the
doorknob.  Ryan jerks on my hand continuing into the bathroom where I click that
doorknob  lock on that door too. He lets go of my hand and leans me over the
sink keeping  one hand on the back of my head. Reaching around me he undoes
the button on my  skinny jeans and pulls them down off my ass. My cock,
almost hard, flops against  the front of the sink. "SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
on my ass with Ryan's hand.  My butt cheeks are red and stinging and it
quivers a little. Then again, "SMACK!  SMACK! SMACK! and I squirm against the
sink, my cock now a steel rod. I hear  Ryan rustling his zipper down and out
comes his semi-hard cock. He grips behind  my neck pulling me around roughly.
I'm still bent at the waist as he's pushing  my head down, my face against
his cock, balls, and pubic hairs. He moves my face  against him and then
pushes his cock around my face, then into my mouth. I suck  it eagerly moaning
quietly, deeply aroused. He's got a hand on either side of my  head pulling
my head back and forth now, fucking my mouth with his long eight  inch fat
cock that bones-up hard, then harder. Pulling my head away now a string  of
his precum and my spit is connected from the head of his cock to my lips. It
breaks away from his cock and drifts down across my chin onto my  neck.


Ryan pushes me over the sink again, my forehead on the back rim of the
sink between the two spigot knobs, and the top of my head against the tile on
the back splash plate. Ryan's hand is on the back of my head holding it
down, my  boner's pressing up between the front of the sink and my stomach. He
uses a hand  on my sweatshirt to pull it up around my neck. His hand goes
under the shirt  pinching my nipples as he leans over me, his boner sideways
against my left  bare-ass butt cheek. Painful pinching my nipples and then
rubbing them between  his fingers until they're sticking out hard and sore. He
backs off a little so I  lift my head and he shoves it back down with a,
"Boink," sound as my forehead  slams against the rim, and a gruff, "Keep it
down!" from Ryan.  He lines  the wet head of his boner to my asshole and humps
it in past my sphincter. Ryan  goes, "Aaaaah, oooh, ooh," his body shaking a
little, then, "Mmmm, I've missed  your ass." A squirt of cum spurts from my
cock as my shoulders shudder, my butt  cheek still burning and stinging, my
nipples tender and aching. Ryan lays on my  back, his hands gripping my
shoulders as he slowly pushes that big hard boner of  his up my rectum
spreading the walls and setting off an avalanche of delicious  sexual sensations.
Ryan dominates so awesomely without even trying or realizing  he's doing it.
My anus is stretched tightly, sizzling nerve endings sparking and  making my
body shudder with sexual pleasure as precum drools out of my cock. The
fingers of his hand are in my short buzz cut hair, pushing my head down on the
sink's rim as he withdraws his boner and driving it right back up my ass
squishing my boner against the front of the sink again as he leans against me
tightly.


Rotating his hips, Ryan quietly moans, "Mmmmmm, ooooh, yeaaah, mmm," and
then begins a hard fast fucking, "SlapSlapSlapSlap!" sounds echo in the tile
bathroom. More pressure on the back of my head as Ryan's grunting with the
effort of slamming his hard cock up my ass. He's so much stronger than he
was  last year, and rougher too. Constant pounding of his long fat boner up
my ass as  his scent invades my consciousness and I'm feeling the kind of
sexual heat I  only get from him. I feel dreamily dominated as the sexual
trance of luscious  submissiveness descends over me and we float together with
the familiar sounds  of fast hard anal sex, "SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP!" It's all I
hear even though I'm  moaning with pleasure constantly. Ryan's hammering into
me jostling me against  the sink, my body limp with a submissiveness to Ryan
taking over completely now.  "SLAPSLAPSLAP," echos along with Ryan grunts
and moans, his boner relentless  pounding up my ass. Only two minutes of
ecstasy before my quickly building  climax is at the breaking point and my body
stiffens until it's taut now like a  steel wire. I squeal embarrassingly with
my back arching and cum pumping up  splashing against my stomach with all
it's warm creaminess. The sensation at  that instant, so overwhelmingly
deliriously intense, has every nerve ending in  my body screaming for attention
and I almost black out in space somewhere. I'm  shaking with the incredible
sensations swirling around my groin and rectum with  my throbbing cock the
center of my world. Sensations fade and I'm limp again,  but still hearing
the, "SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP," sounds of Ryan's hips smacking  against my buttocks.
My rectum is the center of pleasure now and I hope it is  for a long time,
but Ryan groans as he plasters himself against me humping,  humping, humping
and grunting, "Aaah, aaah, oooh," and them my insides are  coated with his
massive orgasm of creamy young spunk and it's so slippery now  inside me as he
again slides his cock back and forth in my ass. Deep breathing  from Ryan,
then he pulls his cock out and cum runs down the back of both my  legs. He
lets go of my head after one last push on it, smearing some toothpaste  or
soap that I must have splattered there this morning. Ryan's still breathing
deeply as I remain bent over the sink hoping he'll slide his cock back up my
ass, but I hear him rolling toilet paper off and I look back to see him
wiping  his cock with it.


His face is bright red as he glances at me, shaking his head slowly,
saying, "I can't believe that I forgot how awesome it is fucking your ass. It's
so different, and maybe it's just because of how I feel about you, but it
sure  gets me off. Wow!" I standup feeling his cum drooling all the way down
to the  backs of my calves now. He grins at me, and  goes, "Holy shit! I
gotta  clean you up, boy." He wets a washcloth and wipes my forehead, then my
own cum  off my stomach and drooled down around my balls, and finally he gets
the back of  my legs and my ass. After drying me off, "Smack!" on my ass,
"All cleaned-up,  Dylan, and one last smack on your awesome ass for good
luck."  I mumble,  "You're pretty awesome yourself," as I pull my pants up,
adding, "I almost  passed out when I climaxed!  And, hey, you were fantastically
dominant too.  Waddaya mean you don't do the dominant stuff anymore?" He
shrugs, "I didn't  expect to, but you bring it out in me I guess. Ya know,
you're the only guy I've  ever been a 'top' for. Maybe most guys have an ass
that fuck's as good as yours.  Hard to believe though," I go, "I have no idea,
but of the few asses I've fucked  each felt different. I'm not an authority
though and I'm never gonna fuck my own  ass so I'll never know how it
compares with others." Ryan ruffles my buzz cut  hair, asking, "Isn't it like
awesome you and me are back together?" I nod, "It  sure is."


We walk back to the living room and see the TV talking heads are still
analyzing the four-thirty game so we grab fresh beers and go out for another
cigarette. Ryan's got a concerned look on his face. "Something wrong, Ryan?"
He  shrugs, "Marty's gonna know. The past two months he's kind of got me
wrapped  around his little finger and he can read me like a book." I go, "Ah
bullshit to  that. Just don't say anything." He makes a 'face', "He'll know."
I go, "Not from  me he won't. Don't fuck up what we've finally got going
between us again.  That'll piss me off, Ryan." He takes a deep breath, "I'll
try not to, are you  nuts. Of course I won't do it on purpose. I loved fucking
with you. If you were  my boyfriend I could give up the thing with Marty,
but he gets me off pretty hot  too. I just don't know." Then Chubby, John
Beverly and Christopher come barging  in the apartment talking loudly and
laughing. Chubby waves at me yelling, "The  Jets/Broncos game is kicking off."
Ryan and I exchange grins and he gooses my  ass as he follows me inside.


to be continued...        Donny Mumford      _thinat20@yahoo.com_
(mailto:thinat20@yahoo.com)





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



I continue to provide this little advertisement in hope 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
'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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