Date: Fri, 20 Mar 2015 10:51:24 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR Chapter   45

DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR

Chapter  45


by  Donny  Mumford



I've spent the past three or  four hours of this December Tuesday afternoon
with my new friend,  Francis/Frankie Walsh. I met him while filling the
pickup with gas at the BP  station. Since then I've given him a lesson in how
gay guys kiss, a lesson he  didn't really need as it turns out. Since then
we've shared information about  ourselves and we shopped for groceries, and
while we were doing that I  intimidated an asshole classmate of Frankie's in
Stop & Shop. Back at the  apartment we made a meatloaf dinner together and
while it was baking I shampooed  his hair in preparation for giving him a much
needed haircut that I'll be doing  later. The dinner was good and then we
smoked some cigarettes, shared some beer,  and now that the kitchen's cleaned
up we're on the balcony keeping warm by  silently hugging together with a
few kisses thrown in. He seems starved for  affection. Finally Frankie asks,
"Um, ah, have you decided yet if you'll do me a  favor and, ya know,  fuck
me?" I go, "Uh huh, I have, Frankie, and I don't  see why we couldn't do
that. That's assuming you're really set on it. Who better  than me to try and
make your introduction to gay sex an enjoyable experience. I  say who better
than me because my introduction wasn't with a considerate partner  and it
detracted a great deal from my first time experience. I'm determined to  see
that your first time is a memory you'll want to remember always." I'm also
thinking of other first timers I've been with, like the special boy in Key
West  who I helped introduce to gay sex, and there have been others too. I
always feel  honored and humbled to be asked, and always try to make it good for
them.  Frankie nods his head, "I somehow knew you'd be the perfect person
to do it  with, Dylan. I don't know how I knew that exactly, but I knew, and,
um, thanks."  Feeling a little awkward all of a sudden, I go, "Yeah, well,
uh, okay then. Yep,  but lets do your haircut first, whaddaya say?" He nods
his head again, then  snickers, saying, "Okay, but I'm still stupidly
nervous about that  too."


We walk in off the balcony with me telling  him, "Well fuck, Frankie,
nobody's making you get this haircut. You don't need  to get one on my account.
Please don't feel you're doing me the favor because  you're not." He looks at
me, "Oh, you don't want to do it?" I snort, "It's not  that I want to, or
don't want to. It's what you want! Jeez, we can just as  easily let it go
until some other time if you prefer." He shakes his head, "Nah,  I want a
haircut, but I'm nervous about how I'll look, that's all. That natural,  isn't
it?" Closing the sliding glass door to the balcony, I mumble, "Yeah,  change
can be scary, I get that. I'll do the haircut however you want it. What  kind
of haircut you want doesn't matter to me other than I want you to be happy
with it." He's taking his shirt off without me even telling him too, "I
trust  you, Dillie. You cut it the way you think I'll look best." I go, "Yeah?
Okay  then, as long as we understand each other. Ya know, we're making this
whole  thing much more dramatic than it needs to be. Millions of guys get
haircuts all  the fucking time." He makes a cute face at me, mumbling, "I'm
well aware of  that, Dillie, but I'm not interested in them. I'm interested in
me and simply  things are hard for me sometimes." I go, "Yeah, I guess, and
stop calling me  'Dillie'."



Pulling the stool away from the kitchen bar, I pat the seat and Frankie
sits down as I plug in the clippers. I'm not sure what haircut to give him.
It's  annoying that, like so many of the posse boys his age, Frankie wants me
to  decide on what haircut to give him.  I think that's because none of them
 want the responsibility of choosing, and I assume that's in case they
don't like  the haircut I chose. Then it's on me, my fault, not theirs. Kids!  I
comb  his hair forward and the hair at the end of his bangs hangs below his
chin,  lower than the scraggily few whiskers on the bottom of his chin too.
Hmmm,  speaking of those scraggily chin whiskers, I'd like to help his
beard grow in  quicker. I've heard that shaving will do that. Combing his hair
away from his  face by parting it in the middle of his head again, I tell
him, "Bonus grooming,  Francis." Then I wet a dish towel with warm water as
Frankie watches me  with a questioning expression on his face. Handing the warm
wet towel to a  confused Frankie, I tell him, "Just hold that around your
mouth and chin. I'm  going to give you the full men's salon treatment, which
includes a shave.  Normally I charge twice as much, but for you, it'll be
free. Wait here." He puts  the warm wet towel on his face like I told him and
watches me go into the  bedroom. I get Robby's razor and shaving cream, then
take them back to Frankie,  telling him, "Fact is, you need a shave, dude."
He laughs, "I didn't notice, but  I'm in your hands, Dylan, whatever you
say." I spread a small amount of shaving  cream on his upper lip and chin,
then notice some baby beard growth under the  sideburns so I put dabs of
shaving cream there too. Carefully shaving the areas  where I put the shaving
cream, grinning while I do it because I'm thinking about  Chubby and me as dumb
kids shaving our legs. Chubby would always go up too high  on my thighs into
my pubic hairs. We didn't know until much later, when we  stopped the leg
shaving, that the early hair on my legs never materialized into  anything
noticeable. All that shaving was a waste of time. It was sort of an  intimate
activity though... one we shared. Now the only shaving I do is when  Robby
and I shave each other's pubic hair. That's become a habit we're into and  I
intend continuing it because I like the way it looks and feels. Robby, on the
 other hand has also begun shaving his recently developing beard too,
although  it's still in mostly an infancy stage.


It takes me all of a minute to shave Frankie and then I use the wet towel
to wipe random shaving cream residue off his face. "There you are handsome
boy,  clean shaven and looking hot." He grins, "Can you really tell the
difference?" I  say, "Almost, yeah, ha ha. You hot shit." Back to the haircut, I
again comb his  hair forward and then take the scissors and cut across his
bangs just above his  eyebrows. Jesus, it's cool seeing those long blond
hairs falling into his lap.  He picks up a bunch, saying, "I'm in it now, no
turning back." Actually he could  easily turn back at this point. I'm
remembering Billy of New York fame who has a  long blond ponytail with bangs on his
forehead much like Frankie's right now.  Obviously it's a silly girlie
'look', but that's apparently what John wants  Billy to look like. John thought I
was going to grow my hair out and he'd cut  bangs on me too, so I guess I'd
be a back-up Billy.  I suppose that was his  plan. Hope he had a plan B! For
his sake I mean, because me with a ponytail and  bangs ain't happening in
this lifetime. Now I'm combing up bunches of Frankie's  long hairs on the
sides and back of his head, then cutting through them with the  scissors,
"Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch." I'm leaving hairs a couple of inches long  all over
his head. When I'm done doing that there's so much long blond hair all
around my feet I stop to sweep it into a pile so I don't slip on it. Okay, now
his two to three inch long hair is a manageable length to do something with
it,  but what?


Hmmm, I ask Frankie, "Do you want me to leave your hair long enough that
you need to comb it every day, or would you rather not need to bother with
that.  You know, like my haircut for example, or a variation of it?" He says,
"Well,  the models we looked at had much longer hair on top of their heads
than you do,  but the hair on the sides and back was too short to comb." I
go, "Oh, so one of  those haircuts we looked at, huh?" He hunches his skinny
shoulders clasping his  hands together, "I don't know exactly, Dylan. You
decide." Oh fuck, we're back  to that again. I stand back trying to visualize
different haircuts on him. Maybe  something with mousse for maybe three inch
long hairs on top of his head. Give  it some style because as it is, his
hair is wicked straight. Absolutely no wave  or curl to it at all. I ask, "Um,
have you ever used mousse in your hair?" He  shakes his head, "Nah, I don't
want to put glop in my hair." Okay, that's out.  Well, while this won't be
especially stylish, I can give him the longish preppy  look I gave Travis
earlier today. I tell Frankie I'll be using clippers, but  there's no need for
him to be nervous about it. Using the half inch guide for  the clippers, I
run them around his head halfway up the sides and back. Lots of  blond hairs
slide off the clipper blade to my hand on their way to the floor or
Frankie's shoulders and lap. He looks so different already I'm thinking this  might
be too radical of a change for him. Nothing I can do about that now
though. Most of the rest of his haircut I do with scissors and comb for the same
reason I used then during Travis' haircut. Which is, these guys aren't used
to  hearing the clippers and it might scare the shit out of them if I used
them for  the whole haircut. It takes twice as long this way, but what the
hell, it's fun  for me cutting hair with scissors too.


When I'm satisfied the haircut's as good as it can be, I use the trimmer
clippers outlining around his ears, then give him the handheld mirror. I need
to  stifle a laugh because he looks so different I half expect him to freak
out when  he sees himself. I'm smelling the back of my hand grinning at
Frankie as he's  frowning while gawking at himself holding the mirror at the
side of his head,  and on top of his head, then back to the front. He looks at
me, "This is a damn  nice haircut, Dylan, very professional looking. You
really are good. Um, I look  even younger now though, don't ya think?" I
shrug, "A little I guess," and he  says, "Lots of guys at school have haircuts
similar to this so I'd fit in on  that score. I kinda thought mine would be
shorter on the sides though, and  little sexier, ya know?" What the...? That
surprises me! "Are you saying you  would like it shorter?" He nods his head,
"Yeah, like that cute blond model, heh  heh. I wanna look like him." Yeah,
well that's just swell, but he might have  mentioned that earlier and saved
me agonizing over what kind of haircut to give  him. Picking up the clippers
again, I use them the rest of the way up the sides  and back just until his
head begins curving to form a rounded top of his skull.  This make the hairs
on top look longer than three inches when contrasting with  the half inch
hairs on the sides and back of his head. This will now require  some more
scissor work making it look stylish, and now the cowlick at the crown  is a
problem so I buzz it to a half inch. Problem solved. Checking all around  his
head, I'm satisfied with how it looks. I ruffle the hairs on top but they
lay flat. "Frankie, the blond model had mousse in his hair. Just a little."
Actually I don't remember the blond model, but the pictures are sponsored by
a  brand of mousse so every model had some of it in his hair. Common sense
tells me  that. Frankie's looking at his hair again in the handheld mirror,
his fingers  feeling the half inch hair on the back of his head. Grinning at
me he says, "It  feels cool. I really like it, Dylan. Damn, it looks cool
too. I'm styling!  Thanks, dude!"


I shrug, "Yeah, how about some mousse though?" He says, "Yeah, this
doesn't look like the model exactly." I get my tube of mousse and rub some
between my hands spreading it on both palms, then grab batches of his hair and
pull it up then pat it down a little. It gives his hair a thick-bodied
appearance. He's watching me do it in the mirror. "Yeah, Dylan, that's it. Damn,
that's cool! I can't even tell that you used  mousse." He gingering bounces
the palm of his hand on the top hairs, mumbling,  "Perfect." Well, that's a
better reaction then, 'I guess I'll get used to it in  time,' like some of
the reactions I've gotten lately. Patting Frankie's  shoulder, I say, "Glad
it worked out for you, Francis." He looks at me grinning,  probably because I
called him Francis. He goes, "You're teasing me with that  'Francis' shit,
aren't you?" I go, "Nope, sometimes I think of you as a  'Francis' and
sometimes as a 'Frankie'." He says in a serious way, "It's so much  fun being
with you, Dillie," then he laughs because he called me what I told him  not to.
Fuck it, I don't care. It's awesome seeing him smiling and enjoying
himself.


We work together cleaning the  hair off Frankie, and then getting his hair
off the floor. There's lots of hair  in the trash basket between Travis and
Frankie. My mind's drifting back to  Chubby and me as kids. The leg shaving
was initiated by Chubby and back in the  day I can remembering, and not
caring a bit about it, me thinking that he was  gay. That's when I inexplicably
didn't think I was. I never asked him if he was,  but it was on my mind back
then. Thinking back to those wonderful days when we  were inseparable, I'm
pretty sure Chubby was grappling with his sexuality. On  rare occasions he'd
allow me to do oral sex on him telling himself and me that  it's alright
for us to do this because we're the closest best friends the world  has ever
seen, so therefore we're entitled to do with each other whatever we  want.
Oral sex was very rare though, like I said, and then on even rarer  occasions
he'd do anal sex with me. Very, very rare, maybe three times in our  whole
lives and none the last two years or so. Why I didn't consider the
possibility of me being gay is another of my life's mysteries, but even on those
rare occasions Chubby and I had what can only be described as gay sex I was
always the 'bottom'. I gave oral sex to him and he gave anal sex to me. It
never  occurred to me that it should be any other way. Huh, it's interesting
I've never  had that thought before now. Chubby was late to the game of sex,
but he finally  settled on heterosexual relations and since then he's been,
I'm guessing, almost  as active with that as I am with the alternative sexual
choice. Obviously, I  also was late to the game, so I'm not inferring
anything by mentioning that for  either of us. Some come to sex later in life
than others, that's all. Weird that  we didn't recognize these facts when they
were happening. There's no doubt in my  mind though that those sexual
experimentations we did together further cemented  our bond, one that's so strong
it brings tears of joy to my eyes just thinking  about it. Chubby's
basically been my idol growing up, and he still  is.

As Frankie puts the broom and  dust pan away, he asks, "Why so quiet,
Dylan?" I go, "Oh, huh? Quiet? I was  thinking about something, um, my brother
and me." He asks, "Did you guys fight a  lot growing up. Mark and me had some
fights, but not many. He was a pretty good  'big brother' to me." Frankie
did the finger quotation marks in air when he  said, 'big brother'. I tell
him, "No, my brother and I have never had a fight in  our lives. Not with each
other anyway." Then I mumble, almost to myself, "He and  I are the closest
best friends and brothers the world has ever seen," and my  eyes feel hot
when I mumbled that. Frankie of course laughs, "Riiight, Dillie.  Ha ha, the
world's never seen anything like you two, huh?" I don't blame him for
laughing because it's a preposterous statement, albeit a true one. I grin at him
without commenting, then say, "Do you want to get naked together and see what
 pops up?" He laughs, "Okay, the haircut turned out to be nothing I needed
to be  nervous about so I'm switching my nervousness to sex," and he giggles
nervously.  He should be a little nervous, losing your cherry's not a minor
thing and I'm  glad he doesn't think it is. When he stops his nervous
giggling, I say, "This is  a big deal and not one to take lightly, Francis.
Convince me you want to do it  with me tonight. Can you do that?" He gets serious
and frowns, "I feel awkward,  Dylan. What should I say. You tell me what I
need to say and I'll say it, okay?"  I shake my head, "I can't tell you what
you're thinking. You're the only person  on earth who can know that." He
comes over and hugs me putting the side of his  face on my shoulder. "Please
don't make me beg, but I need to know about my  sexuality. Christ, I'm almost
nineteen now. I know what I think I want. I want  to experience what I've
speculated on and dreamed about and watched being done  on videos. And most
importantly I've finally found the perfect person to do it  with. You."


Oh boy! Okay, that's pretty  convincing alright. The side of face is still
against my shoulder so my fingers  ruffle the short hairs on the side of his
head, such a different feeling than  his hair felt a half hour ago. It's a
sexier feel to me  because it's more  a male feel than his long hair was,
although that was sexy too because I knew it  was on a eighteen year old guy's
head. What if I was blindfolded and didn't  know? I couldn't tell if it was
sexy or not. Some women buzz their hair, and it  sometimes  looks sexy on
them if they have the right face to go with it,  but if I knew it was a
woman's buzzed hair I was feeling my brain couldn't  process it as sexy. Isn't
that odd? Between Frankie's long hair and this,  although both are sexy to
varying degrees, this is by far the sexiest to me. Why  is that? I don't have a
fucking clue. And why do I waste brain power wondering  about things like
this?


I say, "Okay. First let me  tell you honestly that I'm honored you want me
to help you discover what you're  searching for, Frankie. Let's go into my
bedroom." He nods his head clinging to  me, murmuring, "Thank you, Dylan." As
we walk to my bedroom, I'm making a mental  note in my head to change the
sheets afterwards. I do that out of respect for my  true lover, Robby.
Whenever I have sex with someone in our bed, and it isn't all  that often, I
change the sheets afterwards. In the past it's mostly been with  Ryan, but like I
said, only rarely. Inside my bedroom I close and lock the door.  In my
side-sex handbook, tip # 765 says it's always a good idea to lock the door  and
thereby reducing greatly the chances of someone coming in to say 'hi' and
embarrassing the shit out of the buddy sex partners. I smile at Frankie,
asking, "Just double checking, but you've never had sex with anyone before,
right?" He nods his head, mumbling, "Not even close, Dylan, but I already told
 you that." I go, "Yeah, ya did. Um, do you want me to use a condom?" He
says,  "No, why?" I don't have one anyway so maybe I was subconsciously
looking for an  excuse to put this off to some other time. It's sorta is a big
responsibility,  so ya know I don't take it lightly. I say, "You should always
use a condom,  Frankie. I've been sexually active for a few years now and
never transmitted  anything to anyone so we'll pass on the condom for your
first time, but don't  let anyone else pass on it. Okay, promise?" He says,
"I'm not twelve years old,  Dylan, you don't need to talk down to me. I know
the score, I just haven't been  in the game yet."

I hold up my hands, "Okay,  sorry! I just felt I should say that, and now I
said it." He shrugs his skinny  shoulders, muttering, "I'm sorry too, I
didn't mean to snap at you, I'm kinda up  tight. And yes, I want very much to
do this, but I'm a little apprehensive that  I'll do something stupid to mess
it up." I squeeze the back of his neck, "Being  apprehensive is totally
understandable, Frankie." He already has his shirt off  so I take mine off.
It's pitch black outside of course. Lately it's been getting  dark around
four-thirty and now it's almost seven-thirty. Dropping my pants, but  leaving my
underpants on, I say, "I'm going to turn out the overhead light, but  I'll
leave the desk lamp on." I'm doing that because it might be better for
Frankie not to be under a spot light, but I don't want to tell him that. Instead
by way of explanation, I mumble, "I do that because I prefer doing sex in
dim  light or no light." That's a lie of course, I'd have sex under a hot sun
blaring  down on us. The dim lighting's for Frankie. He has his sneakers,
socks, and  jeans off now, standing there in the jockey shorts I gave him a
couple of hours  ago. His arms are crossed on his chest as he stares at every
move I  make.

In the dim light from the  small desk lamp I drop my underwear. I've never,
in my recollection, ever been  shy about being naked in front of anyone.
Maybe that's because Chubby and me for  a number of preteen years took baths
together. It seemed natural and neither one  of us thought anything about it.
Frankie's gawking at my groin. Obviously  because my pubic hairs have been
shave. He's sucking on his bottom lip for a few  seconds, then he looks up
from my package, and announces, "You shave your  pubes." I chuckle, "Yes, I
know. My boyfriend and I do it for each other. It's  sexy don't ya think?" He
shrugs, "It's pretty fucking gay," and he laughs,  adding, "But, yeah it
does look sexy." Then he takes off his underpants, saying,  "I'm sure glad I
showed you my dick earlier and got that over with," and he  looks down at it.
It looks smaller than the first time I saw it. He goes, "It  shrinks
sometimes, but makes a boner that's much bigger than this. Or at least a  little
bigger," as he points at it as if I don't know where it is. I suck on my
lips so I don't grin and he mistakenly thinks I'm making fun of his penis. I'm
not, but he's funny the way he's both resigned and frustrated by his penis
at  the same time. Hoping this helps him feel better about his dick, I say,
"Do you  think you'd mind if I sucked on that dick of yours. It looks tasty
as hell." He  says, "Mind? I'd love that! Oh man, if I could I'd have sucked
it myself to see  how that feels."


I hadn't planned on doing  this, but say, "It looks good to me," allowing
myself to grin now, and he says,  "You're so full of it, but I'll pretend
you're serious." I tell him, "How about  you sit on the edge of the bed and
I'll do this the right way." He nods his head  and walks over to plop himself
on the edge of the bed. His feet don't reach the  floor, just like Ryan. I
get on my knees and spread his legs, and they are on  the skinny side. Not as
thin as Cory's though. Picking up his pricklet and  licking the pointy head
makes Frankie squirm. I'm wondering how human genes  could conspire to come
up with a penis like this one? Nature's either a flat-out  bitch or has a
bitchy sense of humor. Sucking on the head for ten seconds and  the damn thing
bones up tightly while adding a littler girth and extending out  to it's
four inch length. That was fast. Frankie goes, "Aaaah, oooh fuccck!"  Sucking
the whole thing into my mouth, my nose against his belly surrounded by
brown pubic hairs, his scent is very pronounced now. It's a boyish
body-needs-a-bath scent, but not the least bit offensive to me, and actually I  like it.
No fish market down here. Licking the head and shaft with my busy  tongue
as my lips suck on it gets Frankie's moving all around, lifting himself  off
the mattress a little and settling back down, then up again, all the times
doing a mixture of moaning and grunting out words like, "Mmm, oh shit, oooh,
 ummm, fuck, aaaah." I'm grinning around his swollen organ and then use my
fingers to push his nuts inside my mouth with his penis. It's a mouthful
now and  his squirming, lifting, and moving on the bed makes the head of his
cock  repeatedly bump into the gag reflex area of my throat causing my eyes
to water.  It's sexy for me, but comical too and consequently my boner's not
especially  hard. Then Frankie grabs behind my head pulling my face tight
against him,  squished on his belly, as he slides off the bed standing and
humping his hips  two times. The second hump produces a long stream of cum in
my mouth and a,  "AHHHHH!" from Frankie. Then three more humps and three more
spurts of cum. He  sits back on the bed pulling his cock and balls from my
mouth and moans, then  lays back on the bed, his chest heaving.


Sitting back on my ankles I  watch his deep breathing, his rib cage visible
when his chest expands. He's  stroking his cock quietly moaning. Huh, there
it was... my first ninety second  blow job. I'm quietly smacking my lips
tasting his cum, and it's oddly sweet.  Someone else's cum is sweet. I forget
who's, but I know it's someone who eats a  lot of candy. Maybe Bean.  I ask,
"What's your favorite candy, Francis?" He  sits up, red in the face,
grinning at me. Then he exclaims, "That's the  strongest climax I've ever had. I
thought the fucking world was coming to an  end." I'm like, "Oh, really?
What's your favorite candy?" He says, "Anything  sweet I love. I eat too much
candy and you see the three acne spots on my chin  that I get from eating the
candy." I stand up, saying, "Candy doesn't give you  pimples. They're a
result of hormonal changes in your body. You're probably  through with that
except for an occasional blemish now and then." He shrugs,  "That was amazing,
Dylan, but can we still do the fuck?" I go, "Sure, but only  after a little
while to give your gonads a chance to build up some more spunk.  Ya wanna get
an ice cream sundae for a dessert to our meatloaf dinner?" He  frowns, "I
don't have any money, Dylan. I told you that, and I can't let you buy  me
everything." I ask, "Why not? You're my date tonight." He grins, "Your date?
Oh fuck, my first date. Oh God, you're so fucking awesome!" I shrug modestly,
 and he adds, "Still, I feel like a moocher letting you pay for
everything."  Smelling the back of my hand, I'm thinking how I tried refusing free beer
from  Tracy because it might seem like he was paying me to have sex with
him. Wait a  second... with Frankie I'm doing him the favor. He should be
paying me,  hahaha.


Taking Frankie's arm, I'm  pulling him up off the bed, "What's a sundae
between friends, Frankie. Next time  you buy me the sundae, okay." He stands
smiling, "Can I believe it? Not only do  you say we're on a date and that
you're my friend, but you mentioned a next  time. Am I dreaming?" I squeeze the
back of his neck, "You don't give yourself  enough credit, Francis. I'm
having a good time and I'm damn glad to be with you  tonight." He mutters,
"Thanks, but it's a much bigger special event for me." We  get our clothes on and
wash up a little, then we're out into the cold weather  again. As we're
walking to the far end of the parking lot I see five or six good  parking spots
close to the door that opened up after I parked way the fuck in  the back
of the lot. Humph, to that!  I drive us to Dugans, which is a good  ice cream
joint and a hangout during the summer I'm told. Frankie opens up a  little
more about himself during the drive. He tells me he has issues with  certain
foods and claims it's a texture issue more than one of taste. He can't  eat
things like raw onions or most cooked vegetables. Also he can't abide meat
on a bone like chicken wings or ribs. Those are two awesome food items in
my  book, but he can't eat them because his teeth might scrape the bone. He
also  feels he's socially challenged, finding it almost impossible to strike
up a  conversation or call someone on the phone, although he can text. If
somehow he  gets to know a person he's fine after that, or if he knew them
before he was  twelve years old he fine with them too.


It all sounds, as I suspected  earlier, like Frankie has some degree of
Asperger's syndrome. I learned about  that from talking with Cory the time he
saved me after my New York debacle. He'd  self diagnosed himself with a mild
form of that syndrome from listing his  concerns and symptoms on Google.
Frankie tells me he began noticing he had these  issues around age eleven or
so. It's also why he can't force himself to apply  for a part time job. He
freezes up totally trying to do something like that.  Yet, he spoke to me okay.
I asked him about that and he tells me it took every  ounce of courage and
determination he could come up with to speak to me, and if  I had in any way
rejected him he'd go scurrying away as fast as he could go. He  adds, "If
you'd have told me to get lost I'd probably have run the Mustang into  the
gas pump from embarrassment. Also, it helped a lot that I've seen you a few
times and thought you were the cutest, sexiest, nicest guy ever, so that was
a  powerful motivator right there." Jeez, the demons some kids fight every
day that  most of us have no idea about. I look at him with a concerned
expression, and he  shrugs, saying, "I'm learning to live with it, Dylan, and
forcing myself to do  things that others do without thinking." I ask, "Like
what?" and he says,  "Making eye contact for one thing. I hate doing that, but
I make a conscious  effort to look into the person's eyes I'm talking to.
Not constantly, but on and  off during a conversation like normal people do."


Pulling into Dugans' parking  lot I'm trying to think of encouraging words,
but his situation is so unusual I  figure keeping my advise to myself is my
best move. Not that I don't believe  him, but it's hard to believe someone
can't stand eating a chicken wing because  he might scrape the bone with his
teeth. We get out and I pat his back, "Well,  you know me now so the hard
part's over, right?" He says, "The hardest part,  yes, but only because
you're so fucking nice." I go, "Aah, everybody tells me  that," and he laughs,
then says, "I wonder if Rich Davidson would say that." It  takes me a few
seconds to remember who that is. And then, ah yes, he's the  asshole bagger in
Stop & Shop who tried to scam five bucks off Frankie.  Inside Dugans we walk
over to the counter and stand behind a guy and a girl  waiting our turn.
Then I hear, "Dylan, sit over here." I turn around and give  Dougie and Jamie,
a grin and a wave." "Who are they?" Frankie asks, and I tell  him briefly
about meeting Dougie back home and that he and Jamie are freshman at
Merrimack. I do not mention they're gay. Frankie's looking back, whispering,
"They'er cute, don'cha think?" I'm like, "Yeah, I guess."


Neither of us gets a sundae.  Frankie gets a chocolate ice cream cone and I
get a root beer float. It's not as  crowded here as I imagine it gets in
the summer, but there's more people getting  their ice cream 'fix' than I'd
have  expected. We make our way over to  where Dougie and Jamie are sitting
and they get up and give me a hug with a  couple of pats on the back. Then I
introduce Frankie to the roommates, who then  give him a hug, "Nice meeting
you, dude." Frankie nods his head blushing a  little. We sit down and Jamie
asks Frankie and me, "Do either of you guys know  what pointillism is?" I
slurp some of my root beer float through a straw, burp,  then say, "Of course
not, Jamie," and Dougie says, "See! It's not just me."  Jamie's shaking his
head like he can't believe us dummies. Then Frankie mumbles,  "Is it like
painting a picture?" Jamie's eyes open wide, "Yes, exactly! See,  it's a well
know type of art where the artist paints a picture using a couple  million
small dots or tiny strokes of his brush. Like Paul Signac or George  Seurat."
Dougie laughs, "Seurat?' emphasizing the second syllable, 'RAT'. Then  adds,
"You made those names up!" Jamie asks Frankie, "Did I make those names up,
Frankie?" He goes, "I don't know." Well who cares anyway, and how'd Frankie
know  that word meant a style of painting. The thing is, I'm not asking
because it'll  just prolong this discussion and what I don't need is a
headache. I ask, "How  you guys doing?" They both claim they need haircuts and I'm
thinking that's  their code word for another three-way sex-a-thon. I leave it
alone for  now.


We talk about Merrimack stuff and  they tell me they joined a candlepin
bowling tournament. They need four guys and  they have another prospect for the
third guy. Dougie goes, "Hey, I got a  brainstorm! Dylan could be the
fourth guy on our candlepin bowling team," then  he asks me, "Do you do candlepin
bowling?" I shrugs, "Um, I've done it, yeah.  I'm not too good though." I
ask, "What bowling team?" Manny tells me there a  league forming that will
begin the first of the year at the Methuen Lanes. Four  man teams bowl eight
Sundays in a row to determine the top four teams, and they  will then have a
playoff for the championship. They're looking for a fourth  teammate. I say,
"I'm not interested in a bowling league, sorry." Dougie says to  Frankie,
"How about you, we're practicing after school, I can give you a ride."
Frankie frowns, looks at me, then back at Dougie, and says, "I don't, um, how
much does it cost?" The poor kid. He's embarrassed he can't even pay for a
couple of strings of candlepins.



The roommates look at each  other, then Jamie says, "It doesn't cost much,
but, um, are you working, by any  chance?" Frankie shakes his head 'no'.
Jamie says to Dougie, "That part time gig  you just started. They're looking
for help, right?" and Dougie's like, "Um,  yeah. This guy manages the stock
room at Kohl's. You know, the one in the North  Andover Mall. I work there on
Saturdays and two nights a week. It's minimum  wage, but that's not bad
nowadays. Anyway, they need to replace the guy I was  working with because he
was caught stealing stuff. Got his ass fired. He was on  drugs too I think."
Frankie's eyes light up, "Really, a job? I'd love to do that  but I don't
have wheels," and Dougie's, "Oh, no car, huh. Where do you live?"  Frankie
tells him and Dougie's like, "Huh, really? That's like two minutes from  Khol's,
I'll pick you up, dude, no sweat. Whaddaya say? Part time job and be on
our bowling team." Frankie looks at me, asking, "Um, what do you think,
Dylan?"  which catches me totally off guard. What the fuck's he asking me for?
Then I say  to Dougie, "He's kidding, ha ha. Of course he wants the job. He's
just a bit of  a kidder." Dougie pats Frankie's shoulder, slowly telling him,
"I'll put in a  good word for you. It'll be fun working with you. Text me
directions to your  house and after school tomorrow we'll go to the store and
you fill out some  paperwork, but it's not much. Do you have a social
security number? You're going  to North Andover high school, right?" They talk
about the job a little, then  exchange cellphone numbers. Glancing at Frankie
and seeing he's still huddled  with Dougie, I nod at Dougie and Frankie,
telling Jamie, "This is good. You  guy's taking Frankie under your wing like
this, that's awesome. He can use a few  breaks and a few friends." He asks,
"How'd ya meet him?" I go, "Haircut, ya  know," and Jamie asks, "Why doesn't
he have friends?" and I go, "I'll fill you  in when you come over for a
haircut." He nods his head looking at Frankie. I'm  obviously not going to tell
the roommates Frankie's gay, just that he's socially  challenged. Frankie's
gayness is for him to tell the roommates, or the roommates  to tell him for
that matter. That's if any of them ever feels the urge to do  that. All three
of them are in the closet with the single exception being the  roommates
know about each other


It makes me feel so fucking  good seeing Frankie excited and actually
meeting some guys that he can be  friends with. Dougie and Jamie are good guys
and once Frankie makes a couple of  friends he'll feel much better about life
in general. Maybe he'll even find  himself having a good time as a teenager.
And that part-time job! Oh my God,  it's so perfect. He'd have a really
hard time getting one by himself due to his  social-interaction handicap.
Having a job handed to him like Dougie just did is  so unexpected and awesome.
I'm really happy for Frankie and relieved too because  now I won't need to
feel as bad for him as I was feeling. What if I hadn't got  this urge for some
Dugans ice cream though? Damn, it's awesome when something  random like this
works out in such a good way. The four of us talk for awhile  and then the
roommates need to get back to their dorm. Probably to  screw.


On the ride back to the  apartment Frankie's exuberant. "Dylan, today's
been unbelievable! I can hardly  believe it. Meeting you and through you
meeting those two awesome college guys.  Jamie is a really nice guy, and Dougie
getting me a job! Wow. Is Jamie smart?  That was a really esoteric word he
came up with?" I shrug, asking, "How'd you  know it meant a painting style? Are
you some kind of brainiac?" He goes, "I do  alright in school. I'm working
towards getting at least a partial scholarship,  but right now I'm really
excited about the job!  Oh man, to have some coin  in my pocket. My first
paycheck I'm gonna pay you back for today." I say, "Don't  you dare, Francis!
That would insult me," and he's like, "Well, I'll treat you  to dinner or
something then. It'll be so nice to have a little money and a  couple of new
friends. I owe it all to you too. Dude, I can't thank you enough.  You've like
changed my life." I mumble, "You're giving me too much credit. The  guys
liked you for you for yourself, not because I introduced you to them." Ha
asks, "Do you think I should be on their bowling team?" I go,  "Absolutely!"

He's all fidgety and excited.  The most excited I've seen him get in the
relatively short time I've known him.  Well, he got pretty excited about the
blow job too. Oh yeah, that reminds me he  wants to get laid. I don't know if
I should or not. I say, "Ya know, it's  getting kind of late and it is a
school night for you. How 'bout if I drop you  off at your place." He goes,
"Oh, um, I don't have to be home. Nobody's there.  Can I hang out with you a
little longer? And you know, you were going to  introduce me to some more
sex. That would make this day one to remember forever.  It's already been like
the best day of my life." Hard to say no to that. I nod,  "Yeah, okay," then
I wonder if I should stop at Rite Aid and buy a condom even  though we
talked about not using one earlier. I go, "I think I'll buy a condom  first,"
and he's like, "Not for my benefit, Dylan, I'd rather do it the real  way."
Well, I don't really feel like going through the condom buying routine
anyway. Always an embarrassing experience I'd imagine! I mumble, "Okay, we won't
get one." He says, "You are so awesome it's mind boggling." What the fuck,
it  feels really good to think you're making someone happy, and I'm never
against  getting laid anyway, so it's a win-win situation where I get to be the
hero.  That doesn't happen very often.


Just to be safe I text Robby  asking how he's doing. He doesn't text back
so he must be at the movies. Yeah,  but if he went to a seven o'clock
feature, for example, it'd be over about now.  They'd probably do something after
the movie, but I can't be sure, so I say,  "Frankie, you're sure no one will
be home at your house, right? The reason I ask  is my roommate, one of them,
could walk in on us while we're in the act." He  says, "My brother probably
won't be home till later." That word 'probably' isn't  good enough. I say,
"Yeah, but he might be home. We'll have to screw in the  pickup. Many first
fuck's are in a car anyway, and that goes equally for  heterosexuals as well
as us gay guys. What do you say to that?" He goes, "Sounds  like fun. Where
would we go though?" Good question. Back in Framingham I know a  few
places. Where Robby and I have screwed in this pickup? Oh, yeah, that  strip mall,
but first, "Frankie I need to pick up something at the apartment,"  and he
just nods his head. I need that lubricant that Sonny left here from that
time he shoved a dildo up my ass.


In our apartment's parking  lot, I leave the pickup idling at the front
door and hop out , saying, "Be right  back." Using my key I let myself in and
run up the steps. If Robby's here it'll  be awkward. The apartment's empty
though, so no worries. It takes me a minute  going through the stuff in the
cabinet under the bathroom sink. Then, ah ha,  here it is. Putting it in my
pocket, I grab a handful of tissues for use later.  Back in the car Frankie's
looking a little anxious, unless it's excitement I'm  seeing in his
expression. This is about the third or fourth cherry I've been  honored to take. Ya
never know how it'll go. Didn't go too good a couple of  times because some
guys are, unfortunately for them, unable to take a hard cock  up their ass.
A shame really. I'm kinda looking forward to 'topping' for a  change too.
Different sensation, very hot, but I still prefer to bottom. When  I'm in the
driver's seat, Frankie asks, "Did you get what you wanted?" I go,  "Yep,"
and explain about lube easing the way, especially for first timers. He  goes,
"I can't wait. This is so exciting, Dylan." Huh.


Driving to the end of the  strip mall near the Lawrence, North Andover
border it's just as I remembered.  The Subway Shop is the only store open in the
strip of stores. Two cars outside  Subway, but nothing else. At the far end
I drive around to the side of the  building, parking away from the
dumpster. There's only a weak light up on the  roof line of the building
illuminating the inside of the pickup about as much as  the moon. We can see each
other, but not well except the light shines off  Frankie's eyeballs and
presumably mine too. I say, "This is a spot my boyfriend  and me have used a time or
two. Let's get in the back." I leave the heater  blaring so it's nice and
cozy in here. In the back seat, Frankie asks, "Should I  get undressed?" I
nod, "Yeah, get naked," and pull off my sweatshirt. We get  naked and since
Frankie took me literally he pulls off his socks, so I do too. I  put my arms
around him and he lays against me with his forehead against the side  of my
chin. There's something very special about the feel of a guy's naked body.
Frankie's a little too slim, but he still feels good. His skin feels so
youthful  and smooth as I'm rubbing the palms of my hands over his body. The
smell of his  body still has that touch of a 'needs-a-bath' overtone combining
with his  natural boyish and kinda sexy, more prominent scent. I take a deep
breath  inhaling his scent and feel my cock tighten a little. Kissing the
side of his  forehead he lifts his face and I lean down for a slow wet kiss
and then our  tongues slide together. My hand rubs up the back of his head
into the recently  short cut hairs. Mostly the shampoo scent has evaporated and
a clean hair scent  takes it's place that's very nice.


We make out for maybe five  minutes. I'd like to do it longer because
Frankie's youth and innocence is  sexily attractive, but his boner's already
dripping precum on me, and he's  moaning with sexual arousal, so I'm thinking he
might have another premature  ejaculation. My lips slide off his easily as
we've spread a bit of our combined  saliva around our mouths and chins.
Kissing his cheek I murmur, "Lay on your  stomach now, Frankie." He gasps, nods
his head, and lies on the seat. It's hot  in here now and were sweating a
little, which is kinda sexy too. I spread his  legs and get between them,
telling him, "Rest your feet against the side  window." I get the lubricant from
my pants on the floor, squeeze out a big gob  and push my lube-covered
finger against his anus. Then, twirling my finger  around it a couple of times,
I slip the tip inside and Franking goes, "Aaaah,"  lifting his ass off the
seat. I murmur, "It's just my finger," and push it in  deeper moving my
finger around spreading the lube. Pulling my finger out,  Frankie drops his butt
down on the seat. Well, it's his crotch that's on the  seat, to be accurate.
Frankie says, "I think I'm going to cum," and I mutter,  "Don't do that,
okay?" Getting lube on my index and middle fingers, I push both  of them
inside his asshole and he squirms, moaning on the seat. Fucking his  asshole with
both fingers for about thirty seconds loosen it up a little. I pull  my
fingers out and spread lube on my boner stifling a moan because it feels so
good sliding my hand up and down my slippery hard cock. Taking a deep breath,
I  quietly say, "Relax as much as you can, Frankie," and guide my cock to
his  slippery asshole and put some pressure on it. It slides in tightly and
Frankie  goes, "Ow! Ooh!" so I wait a little bit and then push it in a little
further  with Frankie blowing out a noisy exhale, but not screaming. Holding
my breath, I  push my cock in a little more and he raises his ass again,
grunting, "Wait! Can  you wait a second?"


I wait a little while, then  ask, "You okay, Frankie?" He says, "It's so
tight! It's like I have a log up my  ass." "Doesn't it feel good?" He goes,
"Not yet, but don't stop, please."  Frankie goes, "Oooow," as I push in
another inch and then another inch. I'm  three quarters of the way in and my
cock's throbbing making my head shake a  little. I'm waiting a bit, leaning over
Frankie quietly saying, "You're doing  great, Francis," and then I give the
back of his head a kiss to encourage him. I  do a pushup off him and get
back on my knees. He says, "I'm good, Dylan, it's  starting to feel better," so
I lean in against him and my boner slides in the  rest of the way with my
belly against his plump little butt cheeks. He's too  thin maybe, but not his
buttocks which is a nice bubble butt. Huh, a damn sexy  ass on this kid.
Feels good inside him too. Very tight and like brand new. It  gives me a
thrill to be the first one to stick a cock up here. All of a sudden  his
shoulders shudder like mind do, and I hear, "Mmmm, oooh, fuck. It feels good  now,
Dylan, oh God, ooh." I withdraw slowly as Frankie moans, "Ummmm. ooh, ooh,"
and then slowly my boner goes right back up his tight rectum. I do a slow,
but  steady four trips in and back getting my shoulders shuddering now. My
cock is alive  with untold numbers of sexy nerve endings announcing
themselves, and goddamn my  cock feels wicked good.


A couple of thrusts and I  stop, asking, "Feel okay, Frankie?" He goes,
"Better and better, but I know I'm  gonna cum and second now." Pulling my cock
out of his ass, he goes, "Aaaah,  nooo." I'm like, "Just a second, Frankie"
as I'm reaching down to the floor for  my pants again. I take out the wad of
tissues and pass them to Frankie, "Put  these under the head of your cock
to sop up your spunk when you cum." He does  that as I line up my boner, and
slide it smoothly and tightly right back up his  ass and lay against his
buttocks savoring the sensations coming off my cock. So  nice, jeez, "Ummm,
that feels good," and he goes, "Me too. Would you do it some  more?" I grunt,
"Of course," and grip his hips, pulling up to raise his ass,  "Hold your ass
up a little, Frankie. Yeah, like that," and, with a good hold on  his hips I
start a steady fucking and "Slap, slap, slap, slap," sound of me  smacking
into his butt cheeks echo off the inside of the pickup's cabin. God it
feels good. Soon, with sensations growing stronger, it's impossible not to pick
up the speed of my thrusting, my hips moving now seemingly with a mind of
their  own. The friction of his rectum walls on my cock, especially the
incredibly  sensitized head, becomes overwhelming and my body squirms, my
shoulders moving  and my head going back as I continue fucking his tight ass. My
orgasm is coming  on me faster than I expected and now I'm afraid I'll climax
before him. I start  slamming my cock up his ass even faster and harder.
There a constant buzzing in  my ears to go with the sounds of male fucking,
"SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP!" and our moans  of sexual pleasure. I realize the buzzing is
Frankie's constant like whine, not  moans, "Aaaaaah, aaaah, oooooh," in a
desperate whiny manner. It's actually kind  of arousing to be supplying him
with this sexual experience. Frankie's  struggling on the seat now, his hips
humping, his back arching, his feet making  squeaking sounds as his toes
slide back and forth on the back door window behind  me. He's gonna blow!

It's on me now, the urge to  climax and it's going to be awesome. All these
almost new sensations from  'topping' are exciting and thrilling. I don't
do this often so the sensations  are intensified whenever I top, I think the
same thing: 'Why don't I do  this more often?' Now I'm pulling his ass into
my thrust as he moans, his body  almost limp in my hands, and then a long
breathy exhale from Frankie, his once  limp body stiff now, his back arches
again, and he thrusts he hips gasping. I  hear his cum splatter against the
seat. Fascinated, I stop thrusting and watch a  stream of his cum shoot out
his cock that's now a steel spike, the cum splashing  against the side door as
he struggles in my hands making gasping sounds. He  jerks a couple more
time and then goes limp again laying flat on the seat, but  limply his body
keeps moving like he's rubbing his cock against the seat. Guess  he missed the
tissues. That was a hot orgasm for sure though, and I start  thrusting my
cock in his ass again aroused by his climax. Frantically humping my  cock up
his ass now I regain the sense of impending climax that had drifted a  little
when I stopped to watch young Frankie have his first orgasm being fucked
in the ass. Quite a day he'll surely remember, me too.


His tight, previously virgin  rectum is massaging my throbbing boner. I can
see the muscles in his buttocks  clenching as the sensations from nerve
ending inside him are again responding to  the friction my boner's creating in
his rectum. I'm lifting his hips a little  while hammering my cock inside
him, my head goes back as I'm gasping and  moaning, my shoulders shuddering
the same way they do when my ass is being  fucked. My buttocks clench and my
anus feels a phantom boner sliding past it.  Frankie's got his hand under
him, holding but not stroking his cock and  moaning again as all the muscles in
my body seems to tighten and then, "Eeee,  ummm, ooh fuck." I'm tight
against his ass humping against it pouring cum inside  him, my eyes tightly
closed as I grimace savoring too many sensations coming  from my cock, too many
to separate them... they're all blended together into one  huge orgasm. It's
one long intense sexual relief felt all around my lower  stomach and inside
my thighs near my balls, "Aaaa, fuck," as I hump against his  ass hard,
pushing him forward on the seat and more spunk traveling up from my  balls
tantalizing my six inches of boner and leaving my cock's head vibrating  while
shooting more spunk inside Frankie's bowels. Jesus! That felt good, but I
keep on thrusting making little whiny sounds until the sizzling sensations of
orgasm leave me with that momentary but familiar weak feeling. Laying
against  Frankie's ass, my cock still snugly inside him, I'm breathing deeply
concentrating on the last luscious buzzing from that orgasm. Another deep
breath  followed my a half dozen lazy thrusts in his ass and then I pull my cock
out and sit back on his legs.

We're like that for a minute  still breathing heavily and then I lift up
and help Frankie get his legs out  from under me so he can sit up next to me.
He leans against me, his sweaty  forehead on my chest with my arm across his
narrow shoulders. I look at him and  smile. Huh, Frankie with his new
haircut, one that looks so much better than the  stringy long hair he had before.
Of course that's not the only thing new about  Frankie... he's no longer a
virgin. After a bit of hugging and snuggling against  me, he says, "Thank
you, that was the hottest climax I ever had, and I thought I  had the hottest
ever when you sucked me off earlier. I don't know if my heart  could take
anything hotter than this though. I thought I was going to pass out."  He sits
back holding his dick in his fist. I go, "Your dick didn't let you down,
did it? I saw one of your shots of spunk, the one against the door, and it
was  really moving." He chuckles, "I'm holding my dick like this so it doesn't
fall  off. Yeah, it felt otherworldly during my climax." He's shaking his
head slowly,  "It's pretty much unbelievable how good that felt, Dylan. At
first though I was  thinking this wasn't gonna work because it really hurt
inside me, like something  broke in there." I ask, "By any chance, are you
sitting on anything wet?" He  goes, "Yeah, I am. My cum from the first explosion
is squished under me. I  thought my balls broke open. Jesus!" I'm chuckling
and remembering my first  fuck. I thought my cock and balls had exploded
too.


I get him leaning against the  back of the front seat while I wipe as much
of my cum off his ass and the back  of his legs as I can. Then we both scrub
the seat and side door. He starts  getting dressed as I clean my cock with
the rest of the tissues. His cum won't  leave a stain because the seats
aren't leather and I'll clean back here with  some vinyl spray cleaner. A lot of
spunk has been shot in this pickup before  tonight, and now Frankie's added
to it. When we're dressed and back in the front  seat, I put the car in
drive and pull away thinking that went about as well as  it could have.
Glancing over at Frankie I see him smiling to himself and why  not... he had a very
productive day today. Made two friends, got a part time job  and a new
'look' with a new hair style, got his cock sucked and lost his cherry.  I don't
think I ever had a day as good as that one myself, and tomorrow we have  no
classes except Robby wants to study for finals. That's no fun, but it's
better than classes.


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






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



I have had some books published and 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



============================================
Also please consider a tax deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty to help
with the expenses of maintaining this free story site. Thank  you.


http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html