Date: Tue, 2 Jun 2015 11:16:25 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR Chapter  67

DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR


Chapter  67


by  Donny Mumford



Connor and I had a good a walk on the beach catching up a  little on each 
other's lives. We also had a sexy adventure together in a small  outdoor 
building of some sort. I think it's an air conditioning shed. It was  hot having 
sex outside, 'hot' in both sense of the word. We're about a mile up  the 
beach from where we setup our beach chairs, so during the next half hour  we 
swim towards our spot on the beach, then walk down the beach for awhile,  
then swim again. It's been a good day even though it began with hangovers,  
then the six of us rode through the Everglades on a airboat and had a tour  
through the Sawgrass Park seeing wildlife and stuff, ending with Chubby  
cuddling a baby alligator until it tried biting him.  Connor's one of my  favorite 
friends and someone I really care about and admire. He's overcome a  
difficult childhood growing up in very poor conditions and he did it with a  smile 
and without complaining. Very sweet guy who deserves some good things  
happening to him. It's been awesome spending time alone with him this  afternoon 
and I hope we get more time together during the last three days of  spring 
break.


We swim into shore, then I'm like, "Damn, I thought we'd  have seen our 
stuff on the beach by now." Walking up on sand towards the  promenade, looking 
around, Connor goes, "Hey, I think we swam too far up the  beach, Dylan. 
Look, that's where we had lunch," as he points up the beach to a  restaurant on 
the promenade." I gawk at where he's pointing and mumble, "Yeah,  you're 
right. We've gone too far. Lets walk back until we run into the  guys." Ten 
minutes later I stop walking, "There's Vinnie and Dodger."  They're playing 
touch football on the beach with guys I don't know. We watch  the game for a 
couple of minutes and then continue on to our chairs. Plopping  down in my 
beach chair and pulling my wet box of Marlboros from my  pocket, I go, "Whoa, 
I'm tired. Heh heh, Connor, look what I did to  my box of cigarettes." He 
chuckles, "Yeah, they're not waterproof boxes  obviously." He reaches in the 
canvas bag he brought to the beach earlier and  gets his cigarettes. As we 
light them Chubby and Robby come up from a swim  giving us a wave and a smile. 
Sexy boys. They both grab a towel from their  chairs wiping their faces. 
Robby asks, "Where have you guys been?" Connor  says, "Walking the beach," and 
I add, "We went up for those fresh lemonades  and then drifted down the 
beach talking."


They sit down to  sunbath a little and dry off. I ask, "How come you guys 
aren't in the touch  football game with Vinnie and Dodger?" Robby says, "I 
don't feel too  good, Dylan. I really got fucked up last night. You'd  think 
I'd know by now I can't handle shots of whiskey." Chubby asks, "How many  did 
you have?" Robby shrugs, "I lost count." I mumble,  "Robby threw up last 
night, Chub." Chubby says, "Oh yeah? I've been there,  done that. Nothing 
worse than heaving your guts up feeling like your balls are  coming up too. It 
kicks the hell outta you." I say, "That might be a little  too graphic, bro. 
He's just not feeling real good." Chubby makes a face at me,  muttering, 
"Too graphic, my ass." I say, "Robby, you were okay after breakfast  so what 
happened?" He nods, "Yeah, I was trying to convince myself I was  feeling 
okay, but mostly I felt like shit. I shouldn't drink at all." Come to  think of 
it Robby had very little to say during our Everglades adventure. I  kinda 
thought it was because we were right in front of that noisy big-ass fan  that 
propelled the boat. I rub Robby's shoulder, "Sorry you're feeling bad.  
Maybe a good dinner is what you need." He shakes his head, "I don't even feel  
like eating. Maybe some soup." Chubby asks, "Should we hold off on the trip 
to  Disney World until Friday, Rob? You might not be feeling up to it 
tomorrow and  it doesn't really matter which day we go." Robby says, "Well, I'm 
planning on  staying in tonight. No drinking for me, just get some more sleep. 
I should be  good to go tomorrow." I say, "Ah Rob, don't stay in the room 
tonight. We're on  spring break." He sighs, "I'm sorry, Dylan, but I feel like 
shit." Chubby  asks, "Are you sure it's just a hangover?" Robby shrugs, "I 
hope that's all it  is. It's not like I have a cold or anything. Nah, it's 
just that I can't  drink. I basically suck." He's really bummed out.


Finished my cigarette, I want to do something to help Robby,  so I ask, 
"How about an ice cold lemonade. They're deliciously refreshing.  Right 
Connor?" He goes, "Yeah, I'll get one for you, Rob," and Robby's like,  "Gee thanks 
guys, that sounds good," then he slowly gets up and spreads his  towel on 
the beach, saying, "I'm gonna lay down a while." Chubby asks, "What  time is 
it, bro?" I check my watch,  "Almost five-thirty," and he's like,  "I could 
go for a lemonade myself. You stay with Robby, Connor and I will get  the 
drinks." They walk off as I look at Robby laying on his stomach. "Would  you 
like some sun screen, Rob?" He goes, "That's nice of you, babe, but your  
brother and I lathered up an hour ago. We did each other's back." Trying to  
get a smile out of Robby, I ask, "Is my brother trying to steal my boyfriend  
from me?" He goes, "Yeah, right, that'll be the day. No, we just helped each 
 other out, that's all. Your brother's too straight to do any messing 
around."  Serious answer… so much for getting a chuckle out of him. I go back to 
gawking  at the sixteen year boy who's now grinning cutely while talking to 
two girls.  Huh, those two cunts probably have the hots for my boy, not that 
I blame them…  the bitches. Stay away from my fantasy boy, you twats!


When Chubby and Connor get back with the drinks Robby's  asleep on his 
towel. We put his drink under his chair out of the sun and drink  our lemonades 
talking quietly so we don't wake up Robby. He's sits up though  when Vinnie 
and Dodger come over talking loudly about how they won the touch  football 
game. Dodger's like, "Balls! It's tied and the next touchdown wins.  First 
play is long-ass pass from me to Vinnie and, TOUCHDOWN!" Dodger's sees  
Robby's looking kinda beat up, "Not feeling good, brother?" Robby explains  about 
the return of his hangover as I pass him his lemonade that's slightly  
diluted by melted ice. We talk a little and then Robby says he's going to the  
room to take a shower and get in bed. I'm like, "I'll come with you, Rob," and 
 he says, "I'll be okay, but would you return my beach chair for me?" 
"Sure,  Rob," and he trudges up the beach towards our hotel. Dodger asks, "How 
does a  hangover come back?" I shrug, "It doesn't. His hangover never left him 
even  though he tried faking he was okay. Then it just totally caught up 
with him I  guess." We talk about how alcohol affects people differently, 
mentioning Harry  Black who for all intent and purposes is drunk every day, all 
day. He's a  functioning alcoholic, but it'll catch up with him some day 
too. Liver  transplant anyone?


We all go in for a swim, mostly body surfing the especially  big waves 
today. Everyone's getting hungry around seven o'clock so we  pack up our stuff, 
turn in the chairs, and go into the air conditioned lobby  of our hotel. The 
air conditioning in here makes the lobby feels like a  meat locker after we 
were in the sun and heat all day, but you get used to the  cool 
temperatures pretty quickly. Chubby takes his shower as I check on Robby,  who's just 
woken-up from another nap. Sitting on the side of the bed holding  the 
hotel's room service menu, I'm like, "Robby, they have room  service here. I can 
order you a bowl of either minestrone soup or clam  chowder. Maybe some rolls 
and butter to go with the soup if you want, and a  big Coke too." He says, 
"That sounds perfect, Dylan. The clam chowder, rolls  and a Coke." I go, 
"Okay, there's no way you can sleep for twelve more hours,  so I'll stay in 
with you and keep you company." He smiles, "Thanks, baby, but  you go out and 
have a good time. I'll watch some TV until I get tired. I'll be  fine. I just 
need to do nothing and give this fucking hangover the time it  needs to go 
away." I nod and call in his food order, which I'm told will be up  in half 
and hour.


Chubby comes out of the bathroom all shiny clean with a  sunburned nose. He 
looks awesome! Now, if only he'd put some clothes on.  "Could you please 
put something on, Chubby," and he goes, "Bro, I prefer air  drying better than 
towel drying." Fingering his dick, he adds, "Anyway little  Jeff needs some 
air too." Stretching out his four inch dick, he mumbles, "I'm  probably 
motivated to air dry because of our airboat ride, air is greatly  under 
appreciated." Robby's grinning, "You've got yourself a hot body, Jeff."  Chubby 
goes, "You gay boys have only one thing on your minds," I say, "Nice  ass too, 
bro." Chubby turns around and sticks out his cute pink ass, then  steps into 
jockey shorts. Robby and I go, "Booo!" then Robby asks me, "What  are you 
gonna do tonight, Dylan?" I shrug, "I don't know. What are you doing  
tonight, Chubby?" As he pulls a t-shirt over his head, he says, "Dodger wants  to 
go to the track and bet on some horse racing." On the front of his t-shirt,  
in big letters, is 'I'M CUTE'. I say, "You're wasting your time going to the 
 race track 'cause you can't bet. You gotta be twenty-one." He says, "I 
know  that, we're hooking up with this guy Eric, one of the guys we met the 
first  night at dinner. We ran into him on the beach earlier and he's going to 
get us  a couple more cases of beer, plus he gave us the idea of going to 
the track.  He'll place our bets for us. How about it, you wanna come?" I go, 
"Hell, no! I  lose at gambling of any kind, plus the races last like two 
minutes and then  there's something like a half hour in between races. So what 
do you do in  between races?" He says, "You handicap the next race 
obviously." I ask, "Who's  going?" Chubby says, "Dodger and Vinnie, but I don't know 
about Connor." Ah  ha! Maybe another sexy time with my boy, Connor. I 
mutters, "Maybe I'll hook  up with Connor for a walk on the beach or something, 
then get to bed early."  He mutters, "Party pooper."


Robby's soup, rolls, butter, and a big glass of Coke with  lots of ice have 
arrived so I sign for it and give the lady a tip, then set  Robby's dinner 
up at the desk. I watch him eat everything as he's grinning at  me watching 
him. In between slurps of chowder, he says, "Hope this stays  down." I go, 
"Your breakfast and lunch stayed down, so why wouldn't the soup?"  Wiping his 
mouth with a cloth napkin, he goes, "I threw up my lunch when we  came back 
here to get cleaned up." I go, "Why didn't you say something?" He  shrugs, 
"I didn't want to be a downer for you guys. Anyway I thought that'd be  the 
end of it, then I thought I was going to throw up on the fucking airboat  
too." Yeah, he was awfully quiet all day. I feel his forehead, but it doesn't  
feel especially hot. Then I kiss him, "I'll stay in with you tonight, 
Robby."  He goes, "Don't do that, please, Dylan. I'll be fine. I'm embarrassed 
enough  for being such a pussy." I say, "You just can't do shots, Rob, that's 
all.  You're allergic to them or something." He says, "I think I am allergic 
to hard  liquor." Chubby asks, "Can someone be allergic to liquor?" I 
shrug, "I think  some people have allergic reactions to alcohol, yeah. Their body 
has no  tolerance for it." Chubby mutters, "We could Google it," and 
Robby's like,  "Not now, please. I don't wanna know. I'm going to lay down again." 
He lays on  top of the bedspread, saying, "Dylan, you go out and have fun, 
okay?" I nod,  "I'll go out but I'm gonna be checking on you every hour." He 
smiles, "Don't  do that. If I need help I'll text you. I don't want to ruin 
your night just  because I'm fucked up." 
 
Chubby's texting someone as I go over to the room's half  refrigerator and 
get one of the three beers we have left, then take it out on  the balcony 
with a new pack of cigarettes. I'm hoping to see the sunset, but  checking my 
iPhone I see that today's sunset's isn't for another forty-five  minutes. 
Smoking and drinking beer leaning on the railing I'm looking down at  the 
beach and then out at the ocean thinking I'd like to have a place on a  beach 
someday, or at least on the ocean. I never get tired of watching the  ocean 
rolling endlessly into shore the same way it's been doing for billions  of 
years. Well, maybe except during that ice age. Chubby comes out saying,  "You 
ought to come with us, Dylan. Dodger's talked Connor into going to the  
track, and with Robby in bed you'll be flying solo here tonight." I go, "Fuck!  
Connor's going to the race track too?" He shrugs, "That's what Dodger said 
and  I think whatever Dodger says, Connor's gonna go along with it. And we're  
eating dinner there too." I'm like, "Well, I am disappointed Connor going 
with  you guys, but I'm glad he has Dodger to sort of keep him in the loop 
with  whatever's going on socially, especially in the Army. Nobody takes 
advantage  of Dodger and he won't let anyone take advantage of Connor either." 
Then  there's a commotion inside with the other room's roommates storming into 
our  room. I say, "Hey, get those guys outta here so Robby can sleep." 
Chubby says,  "You won't come with us?" and I'm like, "I'm just not feeling the 
race track,  Chubby." He rubs my head, "Well, I'll miss you, bro," and we do 
a hug with me  saying, "Win a lot of money, Chub." He rubs my head again, 
"Okay! Let me rub  your head one more time for good luck," and then he goes 
inside shooing the  guys out of the room. As he's going out the door Connor 
looks at me out here  on the balcony and waves, then I see him asking Chubby 
something. Probably  asking why I'm not going with them.
 
I take a deep breath and swallow a little beer, then finish  my cigarette. 
Sitting on one of the two plastic chairs that are out here on  the balcony I 
try to think what I could do tonight. I could text Willie, but  I'm going 
to see him all day tomorrow when the guys are at Disney World.  That'll 
probably satisfy my submissive fetish for quite awhile. Hmmm, I don't  know 
Terry's text number, if he has one, and who doesn't! Anyway, I can't get  in 
touch with him. Well, one thing's for sure, it's too beautiful a night to  stay 
in watching TV, and Robby's trying to sleep anyway. Finished my beer I go  
in to check on Robby, who's asleep again. Putting the soup bowl and other  
stuff from Robby's dinner in the hall, I'm thinking, 'Wow, he's sleeping  
again! Jesus, I hope there's nothing else wrong with him other than an  extended 
hangover'. I take a long shower and then while drying I'm checking  myself 
out in the big bathroom mirror. I've got some good color from the sun.  
That's a good look if you ask me. Putting my face close to the mirror I can't  
see any noticeable whiskers showing up yet, so thank's dad. Running my 
fingers  back through my hair and realizing for the hundredth time it's too  short 
to do anything with it. My hair just sticks straight up, but I'm  
determined to let my hair grow out this time. At least now it's lost the  bristly 
look of a new haircut, looking sorta like a normal fuzzy burr haircut.  How the 
fuck long will it take me to grow out my hair so I can at least  comb it 
over, never mind a ponytail. I'd just like to be able to comb it,  which I 
haven't been able to do for like two years. And I don't care what Ryan  says, 
I'm not getting a haircut from him or anybody else for two months at  least.


Back in the bedroom getting dressed, I hear Robby making  quiet snoring 
sounds, but not really snoring. He's deep asleep though, that's  for sure. I 
write him a big note saying, "TEXT ME THE SECOND YOU NEED ME" and  put it on 
my pillow next to his head. Outside I walk down to the beach and  take my 
sandals off. Maybe there's a beach party going on somewhere tonight.  I'm not 
really expecting to meet anyone I know though. Because of that I  dressed 
accordingly, wearing a plain white t-shirt and baggy cargo shorts. No  sense 
using my cool clothes if I'm not going to see anyone I know. I always  wear my 
cross necklace of course, and my leather bracelet, but tonight after  my 
shower I forgot to put my two rings on and my wristwatch. That's probably  
because my mind was worrying about Robby. I never saw a hangover last this  
long. As I walk on the beach I notice there's a lot college kids still on the  
beach, some of them drunk already. Then I get to see the sunset over the 
ocean  and that's pretty cool. I'm walking on the beach following the promenade 
 because I'm hungry and I'm going to get something from an open food stand 
and  eat it while walking the beach. I don't like eating alone in a 
restaurant  because it feels like everyone's looking at me wondering why I don't 
have any  friends to eat with. Fuck that! Ya know, at times like this when 
there are  lots and lots of guys around my own age walking by it hits home to me 
how few  people I actually know in this world. I must have passed a hundred 
guys and  girls just in the last half mile of beach and I don't know even 
one of  them. 


I'm approaching the end of the promenade so I walk up and  find a 
restaurant with a beach window that advertises 'The Best Subs in Fort  Lauderdale'. 
Getting in the short line I'm reading the big board that shows  the menu. I 
guess I'll try what they claim is an authentic 'Philly Cheese  Steak'. Huh, I 
wonder why it's called that. I mean a cheese steak is thinly  sliced beef 
quickly fried on the grill with cheese, and fried onions if you  want, 
everything stuffed in a sub roll. How could it be more authentic than  that? A 
cheese steak is a cheese steak, Philly or otherwise. I order one and  three 
minutes later I'm served the cheese steak wrapped in butcher paper.  Taking it 
to the condiment area and unwrapping it, I add ketchup and some  sweet 
peppers. Looking around I spot a bench on the beach side of the  promenade and 
sit on it to eat my dinner. This thing is too messy to eat while  walking. 
Sitting here I could be waiting for someone, so it's not like people  are 
staring at me like I'm some lonely geek without a friend. The cheese  steak's a 
little greasy, but good. As I'm eating it I see someone walking down  the 
promenade who's in a class with me at Merrimack. So I do see someone I  know 
after all, although I've never spoken to him. He's by himself, then our  eyes 
meet. He stops and gives me a little wave, then comes over, saying, "Hi,  
you go to Merrimack, right?" Swallowing a bite of my sub, I'm like, "Yep,  
Dylan Newman. Wassup?" He says, "Not much. Small world huh?" and he sits down  
holding his fist out, saying, "Rick Niles." I bump fist with him as he asks, 
 "How do you like Fort Lauderdale?" and we talk about that a little bit. 
He's  not cute, but he's not hideous looking either. Kind of a rugged scruffy 
look  actually. He looks like someone who maybe just got off a raft from 
some island  after the raft landed here. He has a couple of days growth of a 
dark beard,  longish hair, and a torn t-shirt. On the plus side he has 
beautiful green  eyes. Nice grin too.


We do the thing where we tell each other who we're down here  with, neither 
of us knowing anyone that's mentioned by the other. Then we  discuss 
various professors at Merrimack discovering we only having the one  professor in 
common. Finishing the last of my cheese steak I'm doing a quick  look at 
Rick's hairy legs. He's got an average build and he's about my height.  He's 
also kinda pushy, sitting too close to me and rubbing my head, asking,  "What 
the fuck kind of butchered haircut do you call this?" I go, "Um, it's  not 
butchered," and he goes, "If you say so." Then he feels my bicep, asking,  
"You're into weight lifting, huh? Nice guns." I glance at him again because he  
might be kinda sexy after all, and I can almost feel his hairy legs rubbing 
 against mine as he fucks me. He asks, "Where are your boys tonight? You're 
not  alone tonight are you?" Huh, what the fuck? I go, "Yeah, they all went 
to that  race track." Rick goes, "We were there Monday night, but mostly 
for the  casino. I've got some killer fake ID." I'm like, "Where are your boys 
 tonight?" and he puts his arm across my shoulder, then giving me a hug, 
says,  "Who the fuck cares?" I shrug, muttering, "So, um…" and I hear a girl's 
voice  calling, "Rick, over here!" He waves his hand at her, saying, "Come 
here, Sue,  and meet, Dylan." This average looking girl comes over, saying 
to me, "You go  to Merrimack, don't ya?" Rick says, "He's in my lit class. 
Say hi to Dylan,"  then to me, "What's your last name again?" I mumble, 
"Newman. Nice to meet  you, um," and she says, "Sue Miller, how ya doing? Hey, 
I've got and idea  Dylan, let me dump this big lug here so you and me can 
party." Rick goes, "Oh  fuck you, Sue," and she says, "You wish. Come on, get 
your fat ass off that  bench, we're late." Rick gets up, saying to me, "Nice 
talking to you, dude.  Catch ya later," and they walk off with him whispering 
something and Sue  laughing while glancing back at me. I feel myself 
blushing and I'm not sure  why. What a perfectly ordinary pair those two are. 
Funny, but I don't hear  wedding bells in their future.


I get up and walk in the opposite direction from those two  while wondering 
what Rick was all about. Obviously I was under the impression  he was 
coming on to me, but whatever he said to his girlfriend made her giggle  and 
glance back at me, so maybe he was mocking me. If I wasn't gay, would I  have 
let him touch me like he did? No, I wouldn't have so he obviously thought  I 
was gay and he was bullying me a little. Damn! Or maybe it's something else.  
Whatever, it wasn't really a positive experience for me and I feel like a  
dorky jackass being 'played' like that. Going down to the beach again I 
light  a cigarette trying to put that five minutes out of my mind. And then I  
think,'maybe he saw me kissing Ryan or Robby at Merrimack'. That must be it,  
but screw him. Making fun of the gay boy, huh? For the next ten minutes I'm 
 thinking of silly ways to get even with him until I finally realize, so 
what?  Fuck him! What do I care? Willie would laugh it off calling the guy a  
closet homo who can't even  admit the truth to himself. Maybe Rick is, and 
maybe not. Then again I think  of texting Willie, but instead I spot Terry on 
the  promenade with Sherman talking with two other guys. The same guys I 
saw them  with this afternoon.


Okay, if Terry were alone I'd hook up with him, but I don't  want to 
hangout with the four of them. I'm not some nerd leaching on to them.  Obviously 
in hindsight the horse racing was the move for me to make, except  that  
Robby's sick. It's probably just a lingering hangover, but what if  it's 
something more serious and I'm forty-five minutes away at the track and  unable to 
help him if he needs me. Plus we've only got the SUV, so everyone  would 
need to leave. By staying here I'm fifteen minutes away from being there  for 
Robby, and that's at the most. Okay, here's a question for myself: if I  
don't want to hangout with Terry's friends, why the fuck have I walked back up  
on the promenade? Damn, it'll be awkward if Terry sees me by myself like 
this.  I drag on my cigarette, turning my back. Then I hear loud laughter and 
glance  behind me for a split second. Terry's and my eyes meet with me 
blushing again.  Fuck! I hate blushing! Trying for casual cool, I give a little 
wave, you know,  like, 'I see you Terry, but I can't stop to chat because I've 
got something to  do'. Behind his back Terry holds up a finger the way you 
do when indicating,  'don't go anywhere, give me a minute'. Oh fuck, my dick 
moves in my shorts as  I step on my half smoked cigarette and walk away 
from them thinking, 'Terry  might want to tell me something'. Shit, I wish he 
was by himself.  I sit  on a empty bench lighting another cigarette I don't 
want.


There's no way I'm looking back at Terry, and then I do  glance over at him 
and see Sherman and the other two guys walking away in the  opposite 
direct. Terry's coming down the promenade towards me doing sort of a  
mincing/swishy walk, looking as gay as May. He's got a smirk on his pretty  face as he 
walks right up in front of me so close his knees are touching mine.  I sit 
here looking up at him with half a grin on my face. He has that sexy  light 
red hair and the birth mark that looks like a beauty mark on his cheek.  He's 
sexy looking.  Terry's holding his hand in a limp wrist position, as  he 
lisps, "Hey girlfriend, are you stalking me?" I act indignant, "Don't be  
fucking ridiculous, Terry, and stop that limp wrist bullshit!" He sits down  
close to me chuckling and doing an exaggerated limp wrist. I frown and he  says, 
"Deep down inside you, sweetheart, you're attracted to my girlie  
mannerisms, aren't ya Dylan?" I move down on the bench slightly, saying,  "Nope, I'm 
not. I like gay guys who act like guys." He says, "Oh, now you've  hurt my 
feelings," and I mutter, "Sorry, I didn't mean to. I just answered  your 
question." He says, "You sure didn't seem to mind anything about me at  the gay 
club the other night. I've never had a boy act as submissive to me as  you 
were. I really liked that and so did you. But, never mind that now, are  you 
all alone tonight?" He's got me there. I was totally falling all over him  
that night, but I'd been drinking.


He fools around with my ear, repeating his question, "Dylan,  are you alone 
tonight?" I do an exasperated exhale looking around, then  sarcastically 
says, "I guess I am since I don't see any of my friends around."  He puts his 
hand on the back of my hand, saying, "I'm your friend, and why all  the 
vitriol tonight, sweetheart?" He rubs my arm with the palm of his hand  smiling 
and looking me directly in the eyes. I have the strongest urge to  grope my 
junk, but I avert my eyes and do a fake cough instead. Terry's  grinning as 
he continues staring at me so I do another fake cough, then take a  drag of 
my cigarette. He takes my cigarette from my fingers, takes a drag  of it and 
exhales flamboyantly moving his head with his jaw jutting out.  I glance 
over frowning at him again, wanting to rub my fingers in his clean  hair that 
so neatly in place. Instead he boldly rubs my head, asking, "Where's  
everyone at?" I mumble, "The race track," and he goes, "Oh my god, that's  where 
Sherman and the other two boys are going. What a weird coincidence that  you 
and I both choose not to go. It's kismet, huh?" I shrug sneaking another  
glance at him. He's very good looking with a little 'cute' thrown in, and he's 
 actually a very nice guy too. If only he weren't so swishy he'd be really 
hot,  but I guess I think he's kinda hot anyway, swishy or not.


We don't say anything for most of a minute, that seems like  half an hour 
to me. Then, still sitting too close to me, he moves his head  over so his 
face is right in front of mine, asking, "What's wrong, Dylan? Is  there 
something I can help you with?" At a loss for what to say, I tell him  about that 
little episode with Rick ten minutes ago. He says, "What a prick is  Rick. 
He was having a little bullying fun at your expense. He's an asshole!  Hey, 
you're not ashamed of being gay are you?" I shake my head, "Not hardy,"  and 
he asks, "So what do you care what that ass-wipe thinks?" I go, "Would you  
please sit back, you're making me uncomfortable." He sits back and puts his  
arm around my waist, sliding me over snugly against his side, asking, "Is 
this  better?" I do another fake cough, then ask, "What's that cologne you're 
 wearing?" He says, "Oh, not that again. It's Prada amber and It's just 
right  for me because I'm shy and quiet and it fits my personality perfectly, 
and you  told me you didn't like it at the club too." He snuggles in closer 
against me  and I gotta admit his hot body feels good. I mumble, "Well, just 
so ya know,  that amber cologne stinks... and you're neither shy nor quiet." 
He laughs,  then says, "Isn't this nice? It's like we're the only two boys 
on the  promenade. Don't you love the word, 'promenade'?" I'm smelling the 
back of my  hand knowing I should move away from Terry, especially with all 
these people  walking by, but I like him and he likes me. At the gay club he 
said I'm the  kind of guy he could fall in love with. Plus, my dick's kinda 
stiff and it  feels good. I glance at him so he smiles at me, quietly 
saying, "Relax, we're  not doing anything wrong." He still has his arm around the 
back of my waist  giving me a hug now and I can't help but grin a little, 
then take a deep  breath letting the air out slowly while looking away.


Terry says, "You know what, Dylan, I want to buy you  something. Come on, 
get up, we're going shopping. I love to shop." I get up  and he puts his arm 
around my neck now, asking, "What should I buy you,  Dylan?" I shrug my 
shoulders, saying, "Terry, please don't hang on me, and I  don't want you buying 
me anything." He laughs, saying, "Well, I am going to  hang on you and I am 
going to buy you something because you're the cutest boy  I've ever fucked. 
So you miss out on both your requests, and that's two  strikes and you're 
out, as they say in football." I go, "It's three strikes  and you're out, 
plus it's baseball, not football." He goes, "Oh, poo. I don't  follow those 
silly sports." He's still hugging me around the back of my neck,  and I resist 
putting my arm around the back of his skinny waist, although I'd  like to. 
Instead I ask, "What do you find interesting instead of sports?" He  says, 
"Cosmetology is my passion, sweetheart," and I'm like, "Oh, so you're  
interested in the origin of the universe and evolution and stuff like that.  That's 
cool." He laughs, "You silly boy, that's cosmology. I'm into  cosmetology . 
Beauty treatments like makeup and hair styling. Presently I'm  taking a 
course in the proper way to apply makeup." Looking at him, I ask,  "Makeup? 
They don't teach that at college." He says, "Ooh, you're so  brilliant, you 
pretty boy. Of course they don't teach that at a colleges like  Merrimack where 
you go. Sherman goes to college too, but I'm going to a  Cosmetology school 
to get my Massachusetts Board of Cosmetology license. I'm  learning the art 
of makeup, which is a hot field to get into considering all  the cable TV 
stations that need licensed makeup artist, not to mention  Hollywood movies 
and Broadway shows. They all need makeup people for  their talent that appear 
on screen, stage, or film."


I've got nothing to say to that, but he does. "There's  different branches 
of cosmetology like makeup or cosmetics, as it's called at  the school. Also 
hair styling, skin care, and other things like manicures. I  completed the 
hair styling class last semester. And there are others fields  too, but I'm 
mostly interested in cosmetics, skin care, and hair styling both  for men 
and women." Hoping to put an end to this topic, I say, "Well, good  luck to 
you with that, Terry." He stops, "Oh, this is perfect!" He's looking  in the 
window of a jewelry boutique. I'm like, "You want to buy some jewelry?"  He 
says, "I want to buy something pretty for my new girlfriend so you don't  
forget me." I go, "I'm not a girl and it's not necessary to buy me anything  
Terry! Anyway, it'd be hard forgetting you as it is," meaning because he's so  
unusual. He misinterprets and says, "Aren't you sweet to say that." Then he 
 drags me inside and takes his arm from my neck so he can pick up pieces of 
 jewelry. I go, "Um, you're aware this is jewelry for women, right?" He 
says,  "Men can wear some of these pieces, like my pearly earrings." I mutter, 
"You  really don't want to be pointing them out, Terry. Guys don't wear 
pearl  earrings." He not paying attention to me though. He excitedly exclaims,  
"Oou, how about this nice ring or this adorable bracelet?" I'm like, "I 
don't  like jewelry and I don't want you buying me anything. Please!" He holds 
up  another bracelet that I wouldn't be caught dead wearing, and says, "Try 
this  on." I say, "Nope, I'll be outside. Do not buy me anything! Thank  
you." 


Outside I'm thinking that the smart thing for me to do is  just walk away, 
but Terry's harmless and very nice, and he means well, plus I  wouldn't mind 
another roll in the hay with him, so to speak. He was sexily  dominant when 
he got into it. Leaning up against the building watching all the  people 
walk by I'm thinking the promenade is sort of a mini boardwalk. Terry  comes 
out empty handed, thank god, and says, "It's no fun shopping alone,  Dylan. 
Oh well, come with me," and his arm goes around the back of my waist  again. 
We're attracting some attention walking like this of course, but I take  a 
big exasperated breath and don't complain about it. I don't actually know  
any of these people, plus we can walk any way we feel like, and screw them.  
Willie taught me that, and anyway Terry's got a really hot body to rub  
against. It's kinda surprising no one says anything about us walking like this  
though. Looking at our reflection in a store window we look like a cute gay  
couple, and so be it. After a minute of him guiding me down the promenade, I 
 ask, "Where we going, Terry?" He says, "To my hotel so we can have some  
privacy." As much as I want to do that, I say, "No, I'm not going to your  
hotel room. Lets walk on the beach, and must you put your arm around me?" He  
laughs, "Yes, I must, and yes you are going to my room with me." I hardly  
notice his lisping now. Without thinking about it, I blurt out, "Okay I'll go 
 with you, but only if you wash that cologne off." He says, "Okay, I will." 
So  it's settled, like at the gay club last night, Terry's in charge. Not 
that I  put up much of an objection to that. Mmmm, I'm not going to think 
about it too  much, just go along for the ride with Terry obviously doing the 
driving. Again  I'd love to give my junk a squeeze, but I use my 
internationally known  willpower to resist doing that.
 
When we get to the hotel that Terry and Sherman are staying  at, I see it's 
much newer and ritzier than our hotel. He informs me we're  taking the 
elevator to the eight floor. Ha ha, duh. Did he assume I expected  we'd walk up 
eight flights of steps? He's different alright. Like when we  we're walking 
here from the jewelry shop, and continuing now as we're waiting  for the 
elevator, Terry's giving me a non-stop monologue about cosmetics and  makeup. I 
haven't actually been paying much attention to the words he's  saying, but 
the way he's saying everything seems to infer he believes I'm as  interested 
in makeup as he obviously is. He's so sincere about it and he has a  
pleasant voice, plus a lot of enthusiasm for his subject matter. It's all, I  
don't know, somehow kind of hypnotizing to me. Frankly I find myself slipping  
into a pleasant submissive frame of mind with my dick squirming in my pants.  
Such a nice feeling, very relaxing and kind of dreamy. It's easy for me to  
just go along with someone who's sure of themselves and who finds me  
attractive enough to want to be with me. Someone like Terry in this instance.  
He's extremely deliberate with everything he does too. Like when we were  
walking here and he stops, takes two cigarettes out of his pack, closes the  box 
and puts it away, then after dramatically snapping both cigarettes to his  
lips with a flourish he lights one cigarette, then the other and puts one  
between my lips. It's like step one, two, three, four and so on and I can't  
help staring at him. I don't know, his intensity fascinates me. It furthers 
my  submissive mood too. It was a hot time at the club with him and  me.


Ha ha, Terry also says unnecessary things like when the  elevator comes 
down and the doors slide open, he tells me, "Here we go, Dylan,  just step 
inside." As if I wouldn't know to do that. It's like he's talking to  a small 
child. The way he does that plus his unique behavior with his girlie  
mannerisms is giving me the submissive sense he gave me last night. It's weird  but 
sexy. Also there's nothing self-conscious about him. I'm guessing he's  
totally honest with himself, knowing exactly who and what he is and he's fine  
with it. In the elevator he's telling me, as he rubs his fingers in my hair,  
"I'm sorry but I really don't think I can do anything with your hair, 
honey.  It's simply too short. You can assist me with something else that's 
important  though. I'm having a test in my cosmetics class the first day back at 
school,  which is this coming Monday, and I also need to turn in a homework  
assignment." I nod my head grinning at him. I mean it's all kind of funny  
although Terry's not trying to be funny at all, and he obviously doesn't 
think  he's saying anything funny. On the eight floor the door open and he 
says,  "Okay, we get out here. Watch your step," and he takes my hand leading me 
down  a corridor, saying, "Our room is 807. We don't have a view of the 
beach  though, which is so fucking unfortunate. The room looks out at the 
parking  lot." 


It literally takes him a minute to fish his wallet from his  back pants 
pocket, readjust the position of a few credit cards, and then take  out the 
room card-key and slides it through the slot. A green light blinks and  he 
pushes the door open, then holds it open with his foot as he deliberately  
replaces the room key, while unnecessarily explaining, "I know I'll leave this  
key on the dresser and forget to bring it with me next time I go out. So I'll 
 put it away now." I go, "Uh huh, and the card-key goes in his wallet and 
now,  still holding the door open with his foot, and the two of us standing 
like  dweebs in the corridor, he checks a piece of paper from his wallet. 
After  reading whatever's on it, he explains, "This is a note to myself about  
something I took care of a year ago." Crumbling the paper in his hand and 
then  dropping it on the floor, he puts his wallet away and holds the door 
open,  "After you, Dylan," and I walk in rolling my eyes. Their room is twice 
as big  as ours, but it does overlook a parking lot. Terry says, "Lift you 
arms,  honey, and I'll pull your t-shirt off for you." I ask, "Why?" and he 
says, "So  I don't get anything on it." I stare at him looking quizzical, and 
he says,  "Come on, do as I say and lift your arms," so I do that and he 
pulls off my  t-shirt, then says, "Wow, I remember that hot body of yours from 
the pool.  Love your nip ring!" He tosses my t-shirt on a chair, telling me, 
"I'm too  much of a pussy to get my nipple pierced, although I keep trying 
to work up  the nerve to do it. I've heard it hurts like a mother-fucker 
though." Then he  says, "Stay right there, I'm going in the bathroom to wash 
off my cologne like  you asked me to do." Well I'll be dammed, that's nice of 
him.


Two minutes later he comes out of the bathroom drying his  face and neck 
with a hand towel. Dropping the towel on the floor he smiles at  me as he 
pulls the desk chair out, saying, "You sit here and I'll transform  you into a 
beautiful model. That what my homework assignment is. I'm suppose  to decide 
what makeup would highlight a model's face before she gets  photographed. A 
lot depends on her face of course. You've got a beautiful face  to work with 
so I probably should get Sherman to do this for me. His face  would be more 
of a challenge. My challenge with you is taking your gorgeous  boy face and 
make it all girl." I look startled, and he laughs, "Don't worry,  I'll 
clean it all off when I've taken a picture of your made-up face. It'll  leave 
your face fresh and your skin as smooth as a baby's." This is so weird.  It 
reminds me of the time Willie plucked my eyebrows and use eyeliner and  
whatever before we went to one of those block parties in Cambridge. Oh my god,  
that was so long ago. Anyway, I take a deep breath feeling weirdly and  
submissively good sitting in the chair with a buzzing coming off my dick.  Terry's 
a totally harmless gay guy who's been unintentionally entertaining  this 
evening, while at the same time everything he's doing increases my  submissive 
trance. He probably know that of course. It's like I'm experiencing  being 
with some kind of exotic animal that I've never seen before. Terry  brings 
over a small piece of luggage and sets it on the desk, then he does  
something girlie with his head as he opens the luggage lid and three drawers  jut 
out in tiers. There's many little compartments in each tier and they're  all 
filled with woman's cosmetics. The bottom of the case has various devices  
I've seen on my mom's bureau. Obviously very few guys would put up with this  
like I am, but I find it curiously interesting. It's also intriguing that he 
 knew I would go along with him, and I basically want to see what  happens.


Terry fusses with everything getting each bottle, jar, and  plastic 
container sitting up straight and lined-up. Then he puts a square  mirror on the 
desk right in front of me. When he plugs it in lights come on  all around the 
mirror. He turns a dial and the lights get very bright.  Standing next to me 
with his hand on my bare shoulder, Terry's looking at my  reflection in the 
mirror. He says, "I appreciate you helping me with this,  Dylan. You're so 
sweet to do that." I don't recall him asking me, or me  agreeing to do this. 
He just assumed I'd let him do it, somehow knowing I'd be  okay with it. 
That makes me go, huh! His hands rubs up the back of my head and  then over 
the top with his fingers ruffling my hair. He goes, "Well, on second  thought 
I could do something very distinctive with your hair. My idea is to  use 
clippers all around the sides and back of your head cutting the hair very,  
very short leaving just the hairs on top," and he moves a finger in a circle  
on top of my head, saying, "Hair inside this area I leave as is, and the rest 
 would be basically shaved. I've seen that on a model in a fashion 
magazine,  but it was on a woman's head. What do you think, are you daring enough to 
try  that?" I shake my head, "Um, no, Terry. If I see clippers or even 
scissors,  I'm out of here. Don't touch my hair." He goes, "Okay, fine, no 
problem." Well  there is a small problem, and it's that most of that delicious 
submissive  frame of mind I had has vanished now because I had to make such a 
definitive  statement. Dammit!


Terry's got his left arm around the back of my head with his  hand holding 
my chin between his thumb and fingers moving my head so he can  look at the 
reflection of my face from different angles. He quietly says, "I  think I 
know what direction I'm going to take this, but first," and he lifts  his leg 
over my legs and sits on my lap facing me, grinning. "First we'll do  this, 
you delicious boy," and with his arms around the back of my neck he  kisses 
me rubbing a hand up the back of my head again and sliding his tongue  
around in my mouth giving me chills up my back. It's a very sexy one-minute  kiss 
with his crotch tightly against mine. He sits up and takes his shirt off,  
pulling it over his head, saying, "I've simply got to feel your bare chest  
against mine." He rubs the palms of both hands up from my belly button to my 
 pecs and over my shoulders to wrap his arms around my neck and lean 
against me  with his lips sucking mine, then his tongue is licking around the 
outline of  my lips before going into my mouth again. He's on par with Ryan for 
hot make  outs, although he does it differently than Ryan.


We make out for five minutes or so with Terry as intense and  deliberate in 
his making-out as he is with everything else he does. I'm  hugging around 
his slim hairless chest liking the feel of his bare body  against me. Terry's 
sexy as hell in spite of aspects of him that have been a  turn-off for me 
in the past with other guys. I'm referring of course to some  of his girlish 
mannerisms and the lisping way he talks. He's somehow the  exception to the 
rule though, and I think he's sexy hot. Terry makes-out like  he wants to 
devour me and that's flattering. It's also giving me an aching  boner that he 
feels  against his leg. He reaches down to push it over to  the side and 
then rubs the head of my boner with the pad of his thumb as we  make-out. I 
moan each time he moves his thumb around on the heads and then  everything 
seems to click in for me and I begins kissing him back wildly and  rubbing my 
nose with his and licking his face and then our mouths suck  together again. 
His natural scent without the cologne is fresh and clean and  pleasant. I 
like it, and when he follows my lead and licks my face, then up  the front of 
my nose I pull my head back, moaning, "Mmm, Terry, don't. Umm,  ooh." He 
asks, "What's wrong, sweetheart?" I shake my head sucking on my lips,  then 
mumble, "Mmm, you're sexy, Terry. Oh fuck, actually, to be honest,  I thought I 
was going to cum in my pants. I was so close," and I breath  deeply, adding, 
"You're an awesome make-out." He's looking at me like he  doesn't believe 
me, and now I'm a little embarrassed about it and blush,  muttering, "I do 
that once in awhile with really good, um, sexy make-out  guys," with my voice 
getting real low at the end of that sentence, sort of  petering out.


Terry adjust himself on my lap, pushing my boner away from  his leg again, 
asking, "Are you serious about cumming in your pants, or are  you making fun 
of me?" I shake my head feeling that submissive sense slide  back over me 
again. I'm not really embarrassed about cumming from making out.  I'm not, 
but you know… not too many people cum in their pants from kissing  almost a 
stranger. He holds my face between his hands, "Look at me, Dylan," I  look 
into his eyes, and he asks, "Can you really have a spontaneous climax  from 
making out with me?" I mumble, "I almost did just that a minute ago." He  
smiles, "That's amazing. That's a new one on me. I never heard of anyone doing  
that before. It's, um, cool." He lisped every word of course, but I've gotten 
 used to hearing it and it doesn't seem all that important to me anymore. 
Plus,  the way he tilts his head is so feminine, but yet I still think he's 
hot. He  rubs under his nose with his forefinger, grinning, then mumbles, 
"Okay, I  gonna do it," and his arms go around my neck again as his face 
touches mine  and our lips meet. Terry's kisses are now making wet slurping sounds 
as he's  sucking my lips, then his tongue's on mine while he rubs his bare 
chest  against me and I squirm against him moaning. I fight the urge, but 
within a  minute my climax is on me again and I just let it build while making 
desperate  whining sounds and humping up against Terry's butt as I moan 
with sexual  arousal, then hump up against his ass again. He licks up the front 
of my nose  with lots of sparkling saliva on his tongue and continues 
dragging his tongue  all the way to my forehead and into my hairline. Another 
whining moan from me,  then a gasp with my face getting hot and red. It's 
really on me now as my body  gets stiff, then one last desperate hump against his 
ass as cum squirts out of  my boner wetting my underwear. I scrunch my 
face, my eyes closed and with a  quiet squeal, "Eeeee," a long stream of cum 
floods my shorts. My stomach  muscle tighten to squeeze out more drools of 
creamy spunk. Then I lay limply  against Terry as he goes, "Shhh, you're fine," 
and rubs my back lightly,  asking, "Did it feels good, girlfriend? Sweat 
runs down from my forehead as  after effects of my orgasm tantalize me making 
my shoulders shudder. I hug  Terry laying the side of my face on his chest.


He coos soothing sounds rubbing my back, then he blurts out  a laugh, and 
goes, "Sorry, I'm sorry. I just never knew it was possible for me  to make 
someone cum in their pants from just kissing. I didn't mean to laugh,  but 
come on, that's, um, unusual wouldn't you say? But you're absolutely  awesome 
anyway, Dylan. That was very sexy!" He gives me another hug, then  jumps up 
laughing again, yelling, "Spunk is soaking through your pants. Look,  there's 
a wet cum spot on my shorts from your wet spot." He's so pleased with  
himself I don't have the heart to tell him there's a number of guys who have  
made be shoot off in my pants. Hell, I even made Seth shoot off in his pants  
in the back of the truck traveling between jobs when we worked together on 
the  landscaping crew. It's not as unusual as Terry thinks. He says, "Come 
on, lets  get you cleaned up and then I'll makeup of your face." I'm not so 
sure about  that, but lets see what he has in mind. In the bathroom he pulls 
my cargo  shorts down, then stretches out the waistband of my jockey 
underwear and peers  inside, "Holy shit! That's a lot of jism, girlfriend. Fuck! 
It'd feel good to  have all that creamy cum up my ass." Startled, I look at 
him, and he goes,  "No, sweetheart, that's not going to happen. Neither your 
cum nor anyone  else's cum is going up my ass. For one thing there's gotta be 
a condom on any  hard penis fucking me, and more importantly I'm your 'top'. 
Sherman insists on  'topping' me. Truth is I like macho guys although I 
actually prefer being the  top. Between you and me there's not even a 
discussion about who's fucking  who. Honey, you're a world class submissive bottom 
boy if I've  ever met one. Right?" Oh good, that gets me back on track towards 
a  submissive frame of mind again. I say, "Uh huh, Ter," and he laughs, 
"You're  calling me 'Ter' again. That's cute." Then he pulls my underpants 
down,  saying, "Step out of these and I'll wash your cummy belly for ya. Good 
thing  you shave down here or it'd be even messier." He throws my shorts and  
underpants in a corner, mumbling, "I'll get something of mine you can wear  
tonight." Wetting a washcloth he does a damn nice job of washing all around 
my  groin area, then my cock and balls. He frowns as he's rubbing his finger 
 around my dick, then says, "You're scratchy down here, Dylan. I'll take 
care  of that for you too. Your shaved pubic hair reminds me that lately I've  
thought about shaving my red ones, but that fucking Sherman say 'no' to 
that.  I'm thinking about dumping him anyway, although it'll be awkward because 
 he's my roommate." I start to say something, but he puts his finger  to my 
lips, "Shh, honey, Terry's in charge here." 


He gets a can of shaving cream out of a toiletry kit,  mumbling, "Sherman 
won't mind," and lathers around my groin in an area wider  than where my 
pubic hairs grow, then he hands me a towel, "Put this towel on  the bed, and lay 
on it. I'll bring this wet washcloth and a hand towel." I'm  savoring my 
latest dreamy submissiveness, the kind that makes my eyelids  droop, so I do 
what he says. Putting the towel down on the bed, then laying on  it and Tracy 
comes over looking down at me, "Spread your legs, dear," and I do  that 
with Terry mumbling, "Wider please," so I spread my legs more. He rubs  down my 
left leg, then up it, saying, "I'll shave your legs too." Taking my  
slightly firm cock in his fingers he stretches it out, murmuring, "Nice  penis," 
then, still holding my cock in one hand, he's rubbing my calf again  with his 
other hand, going, "Hmmm, there are only these tiny blond hairs on  your 
legs, but I'll shave then for you anyway and make your legs look shiny."  I 
stifle a moan of arousal and try relaxing, enjoying how I'm feeling. Terry  
does a meticulous job of shaving around my cock, that he holds in his left  
hand the whole time. Then he lifts my bag of nuts and shaves a few spots he  
missed. Nodding his head, he uses the washcloth to wipe off shaving cream  
remnant around my cock and balls as I lay here breathing in little puffs,  
feeling so wonderful I might fall asleep. 


When my crotch area is done he wets my legs with the  washcloth while 
talking to me constantly. His voice seem to be coming from far  away and the 
words aren't making a lot of sense to me. Just white background  noise in his 
pleasant voice. Done wetting my legs, Terry goes in the bathroom  and comes 
back with the can of shaving cream. He meticulously spreads shaving  cream up 
and down my right leg, then shaves it carefully wiping residue from  the 
razor in the hand towel. He spends probably five minutes on that leg. It's  a 
fascinating experience to say the least and I realize I've got a grin on my  
lips enjoying myself as I stare at him. Chubby and I used to do this to each 
 other as young teens. I continue staring at Terry the whole time he's  
spreading shaving cream on my other leg and he finally chuckles, asking,  
"What? What's funny?" referring I suppose to the grin on my face. I shake my  
head grinning harder and now it's like he feels he needs to justify himself,  
"I like grooming a guy, Dylan, and making him look pretty. It'll be my  
vocation after I graduate." I shrug and grin some more, he laughs again, "Stop  
grinning, Dylan, and let me work. Jeez!" After shaving my other left and  
wiping both legs down with the wet washcloth again, he dries both legs,  
mumbling, "That was fun," and rubs up my legs with both hands, then around my  
cock and balls. Taking my hand, he puts it on my thigh, "Feel around,  
girlfriend, it's really smooth." Then he goes, "Ya know what," and he slips  off my 
sandals, adding, "I'm going to stand you under the shower and make sure  
I've got all the shaving cream off you, and all your own creamy cum too." He  
pulls me up with both hands, saying, "Come on," and I follow him into the  
bathroom with this shit-eating grin on my face. This is so much fucking fun  
for me, being taken care of and pampered. It's a treat.


Terry says, "Step into the shower stall now, sweetheart, but  watch you 
don't slip." He's already got the water flowing and I didn't even  see him do 
that. I get in and he tells me, "Close your eyes and mouth, I'm  going to 
wash your face so I have a fresh canvas to work my makeup magic on.  It'll only 
be a temporary make-over of course." He washes my face, then says,  "Hold 
your face up so the soap will rinse off," I blurt out a soft laugh  because, 
duh, I know how to take a shower. He washes my cock and balls again,  then 
turns me around and works the washcloth making sure my asshole is clean,  
muttering,  "A nice clean  asshole for when I fuck you." It was already clean 
when I left the hotel  earlier tonight. While drying me with a large fluffy 
towel he's saying, "You  know what my fantasy is? Having a young men's chorus 
line of cute guy like you. They'll be in some big successful Broadway show 
and  I need to shampoo, bath, shave, and groom them all every day. Then make 
up  their faces before they go out on stage. Maybe a dozen  good looking 
young guys. Fucking fantasies are hot, huh?" Well hell, I'd like  to be a 
billionaire and have Terry be my personal servant  to do all that shit to me 
everyday... minus the cosmetics. Terry dries me and  applies unscented baby oil 
to all the places he shaved. Yep, my legs are shiny  alright. Oh fuck I'll 
need to take another shower to wash all this oil  off.


We go back in the bedroom where Terry's looking in a bureau  drawer, 
finally pulling out a lady's bra. Holding it up, he asks, "What do you  think?" I 
go, "Nope," and he puts the bra back and comes up with a pair of  pink silky 
girl's bikini underpants, saying, "I insist you to wear these," and  then 
he laughs, "Yeah, I know it's weird, but please put these panties on."  
Naturally I think of Willie. He's done some of this stuff to me before,  
definitely the girlie underwear. I step into the silk underwear and look down  at my 
cock and balls stretching out the front. If I had pubic hairs they'd be  
sticking out all around this little bikini thingie. Still, the silk feels  
especially good on my newly shaved groin. Terry's grinning now, saying, "I  
thought you'd give me all kinds of shit about wearing girlie underwear. I wear  
it half the time myself." That doesn't surprise me one bit. I'm sitting in  
front of the makeup mirror again with Terry hovering around rearranging 
stuff  in his makeup case. Then he leans close to my face, murmuring, "Your 
eyebrows  are almost perfect in their natural state. That's very rare, but a 
little  eyebrow grooming can improve on the natural look. Just a little light  
tweezing, Dylan, nothing to be worried about," and he plucks maybe a dozen  
random eyebrow hairs. I'm looking right in the mirror but can't see a  
difference after he's plucked them. He goes, "Yeah, perfect! Now for the right  
shade of eyebrow pencil. Hmmm, a medium light brown is just right for your  
coloring." He gets the pencil and starting from inside my eyebrow he drags 
the  side of the pencil point along the natural line of growth. He works 
slowly  with light strokes of the sharp looking pencil point, and then, "Just a 
little  brushing to blend everything in," and he uses a little brush on my 
eyebrows.  Oh fuck, that's way creepy! When he's done my eyebrows look 
totally  artificial, but he's pleased. "Perfect, darling, just  perfect." 


He takes a thin brush like you'd use to paint a water color  picture with, 
and says, "This is Lasting Drama Gel eyeliner. I'll start at the  inner 
corner of your beautiful blue eye, just above your nice eyelashes. Wait  a 
minute," and he gets a gadget that closes on my eyelashes, telling me, "Just  to 
give them a little more curve. We'll fill them out in a minute." He  
squeezes both my right and left eyelashes with the curved thing, then outlines  
above and below my eyelashes dragging the line of dark coloring that he calls  
Master Kajal pitch black eyeliner. It's dragged just a little to the side of 
 my eyes, with Terry saying, "This gives your eyes a stunning geometric 
look."  Terry continues explaining everything he's doing in that hypnotizing 
voice  enhancing my really pleasant trance. I get to feeling like I could 
float out  of this chair. Now he's adding something to my curvy eyelashes that 
makes them  thinker and longer and uglier! I don't know how long he works on 
my eyes but  it seems like quite awhile before he's satisfied. His 
concentration is  impressive and he never stops explaining what he's doing using 
words I'm not  familiar with until his voice is just more white background 
noise. Calming,  unintelligible noise. The application of lipstick takes quite 
awhile too, and  then he's applying what he calls 'blush' to my cheeks, but 
finally he's done.  By now I can hardly keep my head up. I'm so relaxed it 
feels like I have only  one bone in my body and it's poking out the silky pink 
undies I'm wearing. I'm  not sure how long I've had this aching boner but 
there a wet spot where the  head is stretching the silk.


Terry drags the chair I'm in around to the side so he can  look directly at 
my face and I hear him say, seemingly from far off,  "I'd love to kiss you 
on the lips except I don't want to smear your  lipstick," his voice sounds 
to me almost like an echo. He gives me a long kiss  on my forehead and then 
takes hold of my shoulders lifting me, saying, "Before  I make a mess in my 
pants, come over and lean on the  bed so I can fuck you while your beautiful 
face is made-up so perfectly." When  I lean over with my hands on the bed, 
still on my feet, he pulls down the  little underpants in back and smacks my 
ass like he did in the club only  harder this time, "SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!" 
making me yelp. With my smacked ass  stinging he pushes his finger up my ass 
rubbing my prostate. I grunt, hump my  hips and a spurt of precum plops out 
and drops to the carpet. His finger comes  out with him still murmuring 
something, something complimentary about my ass.  I'm in a dreamy fog though so 
I don't catch what he said. I hear him tear open  a condom packet and then 
the lubricated head of the condom, stuffed full of  Terry's boner, pokes my 
asshole. He grabs my shoulders and pushes the head  tightly in past my 
sphincter muscle, "Umpt," from Terry and, "Aaah," from me.  Wow, this feels 
really, really good.


This time Terry baby doesn't baby this along either, as he  presses his 
cock steadily up my ass with my back doing it's arching thing and  me going, 
"Aaaaaaah," during the whole trip his boner takes up my ass. Terry  makes a 
hissing sound while he's pushing his hard cock up inside me, and then,  "Mmmm, 
ooh, yeah." He pushes his crotch against my buttocks tightly and does a  
few dominant type humps against by butt cheeks, bumping my body forward and  
making sure I know I'm now totally under his control. Like last night he does 
 another couple of humps against my ass without withdrawing his boner at 
all,  just to be sure I know who's in charge of this sex. Realizing I'm 
holding my  breath I let it out in a long exhale making a 'whoosssing' sound. He 
leans in  to me, quietly asking, "You okay, darling?" I grunt, "Awesome," and 
he gooses  both of my stinging butt cheeks, mumbling, "I knew you'd need a 
good hard  fucking about now, my dear." When he pulls his boner back, some 
of the warmed  lubricant from the condom drools down under me to the back of 
my scrotum, and  then slowly  drools down underneath it, feeling sticky.


With his hands still cupping my shoulders Terry begin a hard  fast 
Tracy-like fuck slamming into me while making an, "Ooh," grunt each time  his body 
slams into my ass. Unlike in the men's room stall last night, tonight  his 
cock is through the fly opening of his shorts so the 'slap' sounds of  males 
fucking is muffled. My bag of nuts is constantly swinging as our bodes  sway 
with Terry slamming into me pile-driving his cock up my ass and this goes  
on steadily for a couple of minutes with my fingers gripping the mattress and 
 me moaning constantly. Terry's fucking my ass awesomely, our bodies in  
constant motion. Oh the sensations coming off my prostate and the sizzling  
around my anus! Awesome sexual sensations as I squirm and hump back at his  
thrusts. We get noisier with out grunting and moaning and my climax is coming  
on me like a runaway freight train. Three minutes is all it takes before I 
do  three fast high pitched squeals humping my hips with my orgasm 
unexpectedly  firing off three premature stings of cum. They fly from my cock one 
after  another and smear against the side of the bedspread. Strobes of bright 
lights  seem to assault my senses as I moan squeezing out more squirts of 
cum. My  body's stiff for a few more seconds and then I get limp as buzzing 
orgasm  sensations tease me with their pleasurable vibrations before fizzling 
out.  Terry lays his chest on my back now, his arms gripping tightly around 
my chest  as he continues to move his hips fast and hard grunting with each 
thrust. It's  only another minute of this intense fucking before Terry 
groans, "Ooh, aaagh,"  his body stiff as his boner with him flat against my ass 
humping against my  buttocks filling his condom with youthful creamy spunk.  
Another hard  hump against me as he shakily lays on my back, moaning, "Oooh, 
fuccck," doing  a few spastic long thrusts pulling his cock way out and 
driving it in  smoothly. Then he just lays there on my back a few seconds before 
straightening up and pulling his cock out,  then giving my ass another 
hard, "SMACK!" muttering, "All done. That's one hot  pussy you got there, 
girlfriend." He pulls the silk panties back up on my ass  and gives me another, 
"SMACK!" saying again, "All done for now, doll. I'll do  a slower fuck for you 
later," and, "SMACK!" "Ow! Goddammit,  Terry!"


I stand up with both my hands reaching back to my stinging  ass. Wow, he 
spanks hard. My hands come away sticky with the lube that oozed  from my ass 
and soaked through the thin panty material. Terry pats my  shoulder, asking, 
"You good?" and I nod, "Yeah, you really got me off good  again, Ter." I'm 
checking to see if I'm still feeling submissive, but if I am  it's mild. 
Terry says, "Come on over and sit down again so I can take a couple  of pictures 
of your made-up face for Monday's homework and to add to my  portfolio." I 
sit and he takes a half dozen pictures, then says, "Well, okay  then! That's 
just about perfect. I'll clean off the makeup now and then take  some 
'before' pics. There's one thing I know for fucking sure, Dylan, and  that's that 
nobody in my class will have a model as beautiful as you, and  they'll 
probably all be females too."


He uses a facial cleaner for my eye makeup and a different  one for 
lipstick and the 'blush' stuff he put on my cheeks. Then he goes,  "Next time I'll 
do the whole deal for you, starting with foundation and build  up from 
there." He drops one of the facial cleaners on the desk in front of me  and I see 
it's something called Amla Purifying sealer. I like the sound of  
'purifying'. When he's done there's not a trace of makeup left and my skin  feels 
good like he said it would. He takes a few pictures then puts everything  away. 
Taking off my panties I look in his bureau drawer finding clean boxer  
shorts to put on. Then a pair of generic shorts. Terry says, "Dylan, I swear  to 
god, I can't think when I've had a better time. You're the best sport ever  
going along with this. I've been trying to talk Sherman into it, but he  
wouldn't do it, so thank you, thank you, thank you," and he kisses me, saying, 
 "Lets be boyfriends!" I step into my sandals and we leave the room. 
Walking  towards the elevator hand in hand, Terry tells me, "I'm going to fuck you 
 again a little later. I'll do it outside somewhere and I want you on your  
hands and knees this time. I really get off doing a submissive like  you 
doggy style."


He seems to have done more fucking than he indicated  initially when he 
said he mostly goes for macho boys. Maybe he means he likes  fucking macho boy
s, and Sherman's the exception who Terry lets fuck him. In  the corridor as 
he's making sure the door's locked, he asks, "How do you feel  about sucking 
my cock a little later? Any problem with that? I mean  considering I've got 
cum on from when I had the orgasm in the condom. Oh, and  maybe a little 
rimming too. A submissive bottom boy like you should know how  to rim a guy's 
asshole, right?" Damn, fucking Terry is full of surprises. Who  would have 
ever guessed him for a true dominant top? Not me, that's for sure.  I'm 
smelling the back of my wrist as we get on the elevator. He grips the back  of my 
neck, again with more strength than I expected, pulling my head over to  
kiss my lips quickly, then he asks, "I asked you a question, honey. Are you  
gonna suck my cock and rim my ass or not?" I gasp looking at him, feeling  
kinda funny. How do these guys know just the right buttons to push? And they  
all increase their dominance once they see I'll go along with them. Even  
girlie, swishy, lisping doms. Not that I'm complaining at all. I love it, so I  
lean against him, "Sure Terry, whatever you say." Giving me a hug, he says, 
 "This has been such an awesome night for me. Are you having fun, 
girlfriend?"  I shrug, "Sure, Terry, it's been, um, different. Any chance you could 
stop  calling me girlfriend though?" He laughs, "Probably not, I'll call you  
whatever I want, but you're awesome, Dylan, just so you know." I shrug,  
grinning at him shaking my head slowly because he's so different from any guy  
I've ever had sex with. I really like this change of pace though. Ha ha, 
being  dominated by a lisping swisher. On the elevator I grin at him again, 
feeling  submissive and weirdly shy, quietly murmuring, "You don't need to use 
a condom  later when you fuck me if you don't want to, Terry." Another hug 
from him as  he says, "Well see, sweetheart?"


to be continued…    Donny Mumford    thinat20@yahoo.com    donny  
mumford@outlook.com



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

 
 
 
Hoping some readers may be  interested, there are three books of mine 
published and available on  Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them 
for next to nothing. The  books are under ten dollars. Three book about a 19 
year old gay boy (Oliver)  who has a far different life than Dylan's. Please 
at  least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about 
the  story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank  you.


Donny  Mumford


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

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