Date: Mon, 22 Feb 2016 13:56:21 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME Chapter  13

DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME



Chapter  13



by  Donny Mumford



After  Robby leaves I set the alarm for fifteen minutes earlier than usual
because I  need to shower before work. Then it's like I barely get back to
sleep when the  alarm goes off. Balls! I take a shower and do the rest of my
morning bathroom  stuff, then get dressed and beat Chubby to the kitchen for
once. I'm feeling  really good as I make our cups of take-out coffees. Last
night Robby was so  nice. He was amorous and full of compliments and love.

I again marvel at my good  fortune to have a boyfriend and lover like him.

He's everything I could wish for  and more and yet I still enjoy side sex. I
assume he does too although we  haven't discussed the topic lately. I'm
wondering if Robby's become more  interested in his job than side-sex, and if
perhaps that's maturity on his part.  If so, it's a maturity that so far I'm
lacking. The other day he told me he  doesn't want me to change anything
about myself which infers he's okay with me  having side-sex. I should probably
mention the topic to insure we're still on  the same page, but things are
going so perfectly for us right now I hate the  thought of rocking the boat by
bringing up that dicey matter.

Maybe  I'll see what Chubby thinks about it, you know, in a general sense.

Yeah, except he'll know I'm referring to Robby and me. It  might very well
be that Chubby's as sexually active as I am, but on the other  team. Even if
that's true he's not committed to anyone the way I am to Robby, so  my
side-sex situation is different. Chubby's playing the field, as they say, and
I'm guessing if Chubby did have a significant other he wouldn't cheat on that
person. So I'm kinda on an island by myself as far as alley-catting around
goes.  While that's true, I keep going back to the fact Robby and I have an
agreement  about side-sex, and I'd simply like hearing Robby say it's still
okay. Basically  I want him to reassure me. Feeling guilty anyone?
Interrupting  my musings, Chubby lets himself in the front door. He brings
with him his  special smile for me that always lights up my life. He's
beaming and seemingly  excited, but about what? Life, I think. Chubby's always
gregarious, good natured  and full of energy, smiles, and love for me. "Dylan!
It's so awesome to again  see you every morning!" We hug with a fast kiss
on the lips, then he's holding  up a brown bag, "Today's lunch, bro! It's
fabulous if I do say so myself." "What  are we having, Chub?" He goes, "Italian
subs that I made five minutes ago.  Yesterday I bought these awesome sub
rolls at Da'torios, then got thin sliced  hard salami and mortadella. I added
imported sharp provolone, slices of summer  tomatoes, sweet onion, and hot
cherry peppers. Olive oil and some dried oregano  and, presto... Italian
subs! I almost ate mine while I was making it." I go,  "Yum," and he says, "How
ya doing this morning?"

We've  got the time to drink our coffees on the balcony while sharing a
cigarette, so  outside we go. To his question, I say, "I'm feeling really good
this morning,  Chub." He asks, "Did you get right to sleep after
Richardson's?" I go, "Um, not  exactly. I got on my bed with Robby and we fell asleep
together. On top of the  bed, not in it." Chubby says, "You guys are lucky.

You're in love!  As you  know, I've never been in romantic love. Of course I
love you like life itself."  I nod, "Me too! That's how I feel about you,
Chubby. As for being in a romantic  love affair there can be at times, um,
complications." He asks, "Like what?" and  I go, "Well, um, me being young and
all, sometimes as a gay guy I get attracted  to another gay guy for
recreational sex. It doesn't detract from what I have  with Robby though. A
one-night-fling sort of thing." He exhales some smoke,  mumbling, "Uh huh." That
didn't sound anything like an endorsement, so I ask,  "What do you think about
that?" He shrugs, "I think anything you do is okay with  me, but the
question is, what does Rob think about it?" I go, "We've deemed  recreational sex,
or side-sex as it's called by some, okay for both of us, or at  least we did
the last time we discussed it. When we get married that'll probably
change." He passes me the cigarette with half a grin on his face, asking,
"Probably?" and I go, "No, um, I mean definitely it'll change. When we're  married
we'll be monogamists, meaning just him and me." He chuckles, "I know  what
monogamy means and so does everyone who's married, but lots of them find
it's a concept hard to fully embrace."

Chubby  flicks the cigarette butt way out off over the alley behind the
condo, asking,  "Are you and Rob having problems?" I shake my head, "Nope!
We're solid and  better than ever. I just wondered what you thought about me
dabbling in  side-sex." He goes, "I already told you, bro, whatever you do is
golden as far  as I'm concerned. The qualifier being as long as you're not
hurting yourself or  anyone else. Do you think this side-sex might eventually
hurt what you and Robby  have?" Taking a deep breath, I mumble, "Not
really." Chubby gives my shoulders a  hugs, saying, "You wouldn't be asking my
opinion if you felt completely  comfortable with whatever you're doing. You need
to have a heart to heart talk  with Rob. Reassure yourself that you're both
good with whatever you've agreed  to." I'm nodding my head, as he adds, "

Since I've never been romantically in  love I can't say this definitively, but
my strong inclination is that it would  not be okay with me. That's me
speaking without experience though. The bottom  line is whatever two consenting
people do within their relationship is okay with  me. Like I said, it's that
old idea: If you're not harming yourself or others,  it's no one else's
business." I nod my head again, mumbling, "I've heard that,  yeah. You're right
though, I need a heart to heart talk with Robby."

Walking  down the outdoor steps to the Jeep, Chubby's carrying our lunch
and I'm carrying  our clean work outfits, as he says, "Before talking to me
you already knew you  needed to talk with Robby about this, didn't you,
Dylan?" I go, "Yeah, I pretty  much knew but I wanted you to confirm it. Ya know,
there's a line of thinking  that goes: If it ain't broke, don't fix it, and
since Rob and I have never been  closer than we are now that might be the
way to go. And then there's the other  line of thinking, like you suggested:
transparency is best. Having a talk with  Robby in other words, and that's
what I'm going to do." He mumbles,  "Good."

During  the drive to work I'm trying to convince myself that the 'not
broke, don't  fix it' theory might still be the best approach and finally admit
it's  simply the easiest way to go. Easiest, but not the right way. In my
heart I  believe our arrangement of so-called 'sowing our wild  oaks' still
applies and so does our goal to eventually be monogamist in our  married life.

But I need to hear Robby reconfirm that. In  the locker  room I get a nice
greeting from Seth who looks sexy this morning. He thanks me  about a dozen
times for doing his laundry, and then whispers, "And  thank you for our trip
down memory lane last night, Dylan. Oh, and the haircut  too." I smile at
him, mumbling, "I thank you  too, Seth." Then Matt comes over putting a hand
on my shoulder, asking, "No hard  feelings, Dylan?" I give him a friendly
smile, "No, of course not, Matt." He  pats my back and walks to his locker. Why
would I have hard feelings? Rob and  Chubby had my back yesterday and
basically handed Matt his ass. It's all good from my point of view. Then Dallas
Brown calls over to me, "Hey, Jeff's brother," I go, "That'd be me,
Dallas," and  he goes, "I think you're working with me today, Dylan." Matt yells,
"He's still  being trained by me." Dallas shrugs, "Guess I'm wrong."

Outside,  standing at our spot on the blacktop, we watch Robby coming over.

He's smiling,  as he says, "Good morning, guys! Looks like we've got a
beautiful day for  working outside. And by the way, very good job on the big
properties so far this  week, and I thank all of you for that." He looks at his
clipboard, then says,  "Okay then. Today Jeff will be running things at the
site while I get to join my  fellow supervisors listening to the annual
three hour seminar regarding manpower  diversity and sexual harassment in the
work place." He rolls his eyes getting  some chuckles from the guys. Handing
his clipboard to Chubby, Robby tells us,  "We'll be working all day at the
Acton town-hall site. Jeff has the assignments  and I'll catch up with you,
probably after lunch. Have a good day out there."  He's pointing at something
on the clipboard, then pats Chubby's shoulder and  walks towards the
office. Chubby says, "Listen up, guys. Today's work order goes  like this: I'll
have the big mower, Matt you've got the walk-behind mower, and  Seth the weed
whacker/edger and leaf blower. Most of the day we'll be working  without
Dallas and Dylan, because they'll be doing shrubbery plantings. They'll  join
us when they finish that." Matt asks, "So Dylan's not with me today,  right?"

Chubby makes a funny face, saying, "Um, as I just mentioned he's helping
Dallas on a special project. There a lot of new shrubbery going in around the
 entrance to the town hall. Beautification of the site, ya know." I'm
glancing  over at Matt, and if anything he looks relieved to be working alone
today.

Seth  and Matt walk toward the supply and equipment garage as Chubby tells
Dallas,  "The pickup is already loaded with the shrubs. Mostly boxwood, but
some  flowering shrubs too. Fill Dylan in on the process and we'll meet you
guys at  the job site." I look at Dallas who gives me the thumbs up and a
friendly grin.  Chubby goes, "Dylan," as he pats Dallas' shoulder, "Dallas,
had a one day  seminar the first week of the summer at Lowe's home and garden
center, so  now he's our expert for this kind of small planting project."

Dallas goes, "Ha!  Expert." Chubby says, "Well you are. Any job bigger than
this one, which  consists of twenty-five or so smaller shrubs, would be
handled by Dion's  landscaping crew." Then, "Oh, when you guys finish we'll
probably need help with  the lawns, okay?" Dallas says, "No problem," as I nod.

Then Chubby heads for the  equipment garage while Dallas and I walk toward the
garden shed. He pats my  back, saying, "We get our own personal pickup for
this job."

I  know from conversations with Dallas earlier in the week that he was born
in  Texas and his family moved east when he was eight. His parents are an
interracial marriage, both professionals. His mother's white, and a school
principal. His father's African American and an attorney. Dallas sounds
intelligent when he talks unless he's goofing around imitating someone. He's a
good mimic. His skin is a pretty shade of tan and he's very good looking
except  he looks older than his actual age of eighteen, soon to be nineteen.

He also can  be funny as hell when he slips into black vernacular speak
pretending to be a  humble uneducated black guy from the South. In actuality he's
far from that as  he was accepted as a Harvard freshman this fall. He goes,
"What'd you bring for  lunch, Dylan?" I say, "Chubby made us large Italian
subs. How about you?" Dallas  slips into his version of black speak, saying,
"I s'pose I got's chitlins for  lunch again." I laugh out loud, then say,
"Dallas, I bet you don't even know  what a chitlin is," and he goes, "Ah spec
dat's right, bawse. I was mostly  raised on moon pies and Kool-Aid. Ghetto
soul, ya know?" He's so funny and so  full of shit at the same time. Then he
says, sounding like a British English  professor, "Actually I made my own
lunch. Two big-ass ham and cheese sandwiches  on Kaiser Rolls."

At  the garden shed, he says, "C'mon inside with me, Dylan, and we'll
sign-out the  pickup truck." I ask, "How often do you do these special projects?"

He shrugs,  "Not often.  I've done shrub plantings only twice this summer,
but never  this many shrubs. We've got about twenty-five shrubs to plant and
it'll take  longer then you think. I definitely need help, and you're it."

As we go inside,  I mumble, "Wonder why Rob put me on this detail? Not that
I mind at all." He  says, "I asked for you, that's why. Give you a break
from drill sergeant, Matt  Singleton." Dallas signs a form, gets the pickup's
keys, and we go outside as  he's telling me, "I've got an inventory list, but
we better make sure it's all  on the truck." We climb up on the truck's bed
and Dallas calls out item numbers  while I check tags and mark an X on each
one I find. We discover we're short  three bags each of mulch and compost.

Dallas says, "We need pH of 6.5 to 7.0  soil, so we gotta find the compost.

C'mon back inside and help me look for it."  I follow him into the garden
shed where we look around, shrugging when we can't  find what we're looking
for. Finally the guy in-charge comes back and points out  burlap bags of
compost and mulch that he'd carried outside for us. Duh! We load  then on the
truck bed and Dallas closes the tailgate. With him driving and me  riding
shotgun, he mumbles, "Hope I remember how to find this place," then he  laughs.

He laughs a lot and he's very easy to get along with. Quite a difference  for
me compared to my first three days on the job. It's ironic that I had an
easier first three days in a totally new environment in Georgia than the past
 three days on a job I worked at two previous summers.

It's  a forty-five minute ride and during the ride Dallas tells me about
planting  shrubs. First of all it's best to plant in the fall, but the
customer doesn't  want to wait so we'll do it now. The shrubs have a balled root
system encased in  burlap which needs to be removed before planting. Dallas
will use a gas operated  tiller/cultivator to loosen the soil, then we'll add
compost and till the soil,  mixing it with the compost and then test for ph.

Then, using what he calls a  floral spade, and I'd call a shovel, we dig a
hole twice as big as the root  ball, but just deep enough to leave ten
percent above ground. Set the shrub in  the hole and shovel the dirt and compost
around it, then cover with a inch of  mulch. Do that twenty-five times or so
and we're finished.

When  we get to the job site the other guys are already working on the
lawn. I help  Dallas get a wheelbarrow off the truck, then the gas powered
tiller/cultivator  comes off. At the front of the town-hall there are four
sections outlined with  string attached to little stakes in the ground. There's
outlined areas on either  side of the front entrance, and the other two are on
either side of the brick  walk. Looking at these outlined areas Dallas
yells, "Balls!" I go, "What's  wrong?" and he tells me, "They're all still grass
covered areas. We'll need to  dig up the grass before we can even start,
and digging up established grass  roots is a bitch." He looks around, then
yells for Chubby, who saunters over  smiling, and asking, "What's up, Dallas?
Has Dylan been giving you a hard time  already?" Cubby squeezes my shoulder,
as Dallas goes, "You white folk are big  kidders, ain't ya? Nah, Dylan's
awesome. The best helper I've ever had." Chubby  goes, "I believe he's the only
helper you've ever had, but he'd still be the  best if you had others."

Dallas laughs, then points to the four marked areas,  saying, "Somebody fucked
up. The grass was supposed to be removed from those  four areas." Chubby
gets on his cell phone and calls Robby. He puts the  cellphone away, "You're
right again, Dallas, somebody fucked up. Rob says  there's a machine that
scoops up the grass, roots and all, but Sully's crew  didn't get to it
yesterday. They were supposed to stop here on their way back to  the shop... but they
forgot!" And he drags out the last words making me laugh.  He can say
normal words in a funny way. Then he's serious, "How many shovels did  you bring?
We'll need to do it the hard way with backbreaking  manpower."

We  only brought two shovels but there's one in the grass cutting truck.

The three  of us start digging up the grass. It's well established grass with
deep roots.  When we manage to get a shovel down deep enough, then under the
roots, it's  fucking hard pulling up a shovel full of sod. We're dripping
sweat within two  minutes and after ten minutes; Chubby stops, yelling, "This
sucks!" Dallas and I  stop too and look at Chubby, who says, "We've
uncovered three square feet of  grass in this one section of forty-eight square
feet, and there are three more  sections like this one." Dallas mumbles, "It'll
take us all day just to get the  grass up." Chubby goes, "Fuck that!" and
he gets back on his cellphone arguing  with someone. Hanging up, he says,
"They're sending two guys over from Sully's  crew. It'll take then twenty
minutes to get here. In the meantime how 'bout if  you guys unload all those
shrubs and I'll get back to driving that big-ass  ride-on mower." And that's
what we do. Each thirty inch high shrub has a ball of  soil and roots about
half as big as the shrub, and they're fucking heavy! We're  using the
wheelbarrow but lugging the shrubs off the truck, then loading them in  the
wheelbarrow, pushing the heavy wheelbarrow twenty feet to the marked areas,  then
unloading each shrub is a bitch! The balls of soil and roots are wet making
them heavier than I expected they'd be. Thank God we didn't need to load them
onto the truck bed too.

When  we've got the last shrub approximately where each one will be
planted, Dallas is  wiping his brow, saying, "Dude, I'm sorry I got you into this
mess. I swear,  Dylan, the last time I did this the shrubs were half this
size and these  fuckers are much heavier! And my last project consisted of like
eight  shrubs and one skimpy tree." I go, "Don't worry about it, Dallas. No
problem,"  and he chuckles, "No problem, huh? You look like you're gonna
pass out on me any  second now." I go, "I've got some cramping in my legs, if
that's what you mean."  He goes, "You gotta hydrate, Dude." We sit in the
shade and slowly drink a quart  of water each, then watch as a old
junky-looking van pulls up at the curb. Two  college-age guys get out, then unload a
machine. The stocky kid asks, "Who are  the pussies that can't dig up a little
grass." Dallas raises his hand, saying,  "Here's one of them," and we
struggle to our feet. The stocky kid tells us,  "Russ and I were supposed to do
this yesterday but Sully told us it was too  small an area to worry about."

Dallas points over to the entrance at the  outlined areas, and says, "You
call that too small to worry about?" Russ goes,  "Fuck, it'll take us ten
minutes or less. You girls sit your asses back down in  the shade and watch men
working. And don't get near the work area because the  equipment can
occasionally get loose and you could lose your dicks." Dallas  says, "A word of
advice for you guys. Don't park that piece of shit van of  your's at the curb on
trash day." The stocky guy laughs, then says, "Okay, Russ,  lets get this
pussy-ass job done."

While  they're doing that, Dallas asks me, "Did you know your brother's
dating my  sister?" I ask, "Oh yeah? How's Chubby getting along with your
sister's  seeing-eye dog?" He laughs his ass off, then says, "Hey, your brother's
almost  as good looking as you." I'm like, "Is your sister older or younger
than you?"  He laughs again, "She's two years older then me." I go,
"Anyway, yeah, Chub  mentioned he was taking your sister out. Said she was a cute
little thing.  What's her name?" He goes, "Teri, and she is petite. You see
how tall I am?  She's the opposite," and he laughs, adding, "Same height as
Jeff. Cute couple  though." Best to get off this topic because Chubby favors
girlfriends who aren't  shy about having sex, and I don't want to go there
with Dallas. I ask, "Did you  know Rob and I are boyfriends?" He nods, "Yeah,
sure. Another cute couple, "and  he laughs giving my shoulders a hug. I was
never sure about George-tu, I mean  about him possibly being gay or
bisexual, but I'm as sure as I can be that  Dallas is straight. I can't explain how
I know that, but I do." True to their  word the short stocky guy and Russ
are done in less than ten minutes. The  machine took grass and roots up in
eighteen inch wide strips, each one four foot  long. Dallas tells me, "That's
good sod for sodding a lawn." I think I know what  he means, but it's not a
subject I care to pursue so I just say,  "Huh."

I  watch Dallas do the tilling with the loud, gas-operated tiller, then
volunteer  to do some myself, but he waves me off, yelling above the motor,
"Nah, it's  kinda tricky, but you can start taking the burlap off the root
balls, if you  don't mind." He  finishes the tilling and helps me with the rest
of the root balls. We're both  filthy by now: dirty hands, dirt up our arms
and down our legs beneath our  shorts. Dirty and sweaty. I spread the
compost and Dallas mixes it in with the  soil. When we're done that its lunch time
and we haven't planted a single shrub  yet. Robby's rules include not
eating at a job site so Chubby drives us to a  tree lined parking lot. He parks
far away from the stores and we eat lunch in  the shade of big full-leafed
trees. Dallas and I pour bottles of water on each  other arms and hands
cleaning them as best we can, then dry with half roll of  paper towels before we
eat.

After  lunch we're back on the job digging holes two feet apart. Robby's
back from his  meeting shortly after lunch and he lends a hand, but it's a
bigger job than  expected, plus we got started late because of the grass
situation. The guys are  done the lawns before the three of us finish the
plantings. They help by  spreading the mulch. When done there's nine boxwood shrubs
on each side of the  brick walk, and four flowering shrubs at each sides of
the entrance.  We  clean up the area with the leaf blower, and then the new
areas look awesome.  Dallas and I look at each other nodding our heads,
like, 'Well, alright!'  Driving back to the shop the wind blowing over me from
the open window dries  most of the sweat on my face but my shirt's still wet
with perspiration. Same  for Dallas. During the drive back I'm thinking that
this was the most labor  intensive day for me ever. And just think,
hundreds of guys do this every single  day. Jesus!
After  changing out of my dirty clothes in the locker room, Chubby's
driving us home.  Halfway there Robby texts me saying he'll pick me up at seven
tonight, if it's  okay with me. I'm so tired and dirty I feel like taking a
pass on tonight, but I  don't. I text telling Robby I'm looking forward to it.

Chubby tells me he has a  date, so naturally I ask, "With Dallas' sister,
Teri?" He goes, "No, I'm taking  Lynchie to the movies. Kathy Lynch. I told
you about her." I go, "Oh yeah," but  I don't actually remember if he did or
not. We get home before five o'clock.  After showering Chubby and I grill
Italian sausages and have them with spaghetti  and bottled spaghetti sauce for
dinner, with a salad. Always a favorite. He  takes off at six o'clock for
his movie date and I crash on the sofa thinking I'm  going to be sore
tomorrow. I used muscles today I don't normally  use.

My  cell phone rings and when I glance at the caller ID I see its Frankie.

Back for  more already? His text says, 'Can I stop in for a couple of
minutes?' Then he  adds, 'I'm at the curb in my mom's car'. Frowning, I'd like to
ask why he wants  to stop in, but that would be rude. So I text, 'Sure', and
sort of roll off the  sofa and go to the front door. Opening it I see a
grinning Frankie coming up the  steps, two at a time. When he gets right in
front of me I see he has  perspiration on his upper lip that's flattened soft
short hairs of his slow  forming mustache and he looks, not cute exactly, but
sexy. I rub his buzzed  head, asking, "What's up, Frankie?" He says, "I
gotta be home in fifteen minutes  but I was thinking about you. Well, ha ha,
you're pretty much all I've been  thinking about. Anyway I wanted to tell you
I agree with you." I start to ask  what he means when he leans over and
kisses me on the lips. He smiles, "You're  right about the kissing." I'm
unconsciously wiping my lips, mumbling, "Oh, yeah?  Well, thanks for the kiss." He
asks, "Can I come in for a second?" I back up and  he comes in closing the
door behind him, exclaiming, "Oooh, nice! Air  conditioning."

I've  got half a grin and half a confused expression on my face, as he
says, "Don't  think I'm stalking you, but please, please can we do the docking
again. I need  it so badly." I chuckle as my dick squirms in my pants.

"You're not serious... are  you?" He's fiddling with the fly on my cargo shorts'
zipper, grinning, and  saying, "Yes! I'm serious. I dreamed about doing it last
night." Huh, well okay,  why not? I rub his head with both hands pulling
his head down, saying, "You suck  my cock first, boy!" And just like that he
unzips my fly, fishes my cock out,  and sucks it into his mouth. Heh heh,
he'd be in for a surprise if he caught me  before I showered after that hard,
sweaty day at work. His tongue and lips are  doing their thing and it's got
me squirming before he pushes my cock out of his  mouth with his tongue. My
cock is pretty firm and hanging away from my body a  little, listing to the
left and buzzing sexily. Damn, I'd really like to stroke  my saliva covered
dick a couple of times, but Frankie's got his dick out already  and his other
hand's behind my head pulling it towards his cock.

As  soon as I take it in my mouth I notice the clean scent coming off
Frankie's  crotch through his open fly. He showered! He's undoing the snap on his
shorts,  mumbling, "Wait a second, Dylan," as he's lifting under my chin
with his fingers  moving my head away. He pulls his shorts and underwear down
to his knees,  saying, "There, now you can get back to it. Feel free to lick
my balls if you  want." And I do, but only once for a joke, then I suck his
cock for about  fifteen seconds and he's grunting already. He gets aroused
faster than anyone  I've come in contact with. Another ten seconds and he
backs up pulling his cock  from my mouth. It's a boner already bouncing up
against his belly. Nice looking  boner too. Frankie steps towards me sucking on
his lips, then he burst out with  a laugh, mumbling, "You get me so fucking
hot." Pulling his boner down, he lines  up our cocks holding mine in his
left hand, and his in his right. Then he slides  my foreskin over the head of
his cock and closes his fist over the docking. I  go, "Oooh, damn, that
awesome." It is too. Feeling his cock's pee slit against  mine, both snugly
under my foreskin gets me moving my feet, my hands going  to Frankie's shoulders
just like the last two times we did this. "Stay still,  Dylan!" Damn, this
is hot!
His  fist moves stretching my foreskin tightly over the head of his cock.

He stokes  down, then up from the root of his hard cock over the docked area,
and tightly  down my cock. My shoulders shudder as I blurt out with a
laugh/cough. Frankie  glances at me with a grin as his fist moves back over the
docked area making my  feet shuffle in place. The sensations coming off my
penis are intense. Frankie  puts two fingers in the waistband of my short
holding me in place, murmuring,  "Stop moving so much." He does faster stroking
now and I'm up on my toes leaning  forward, then laying my forehead on his
shoulder. Frankie's grinning and  grunting as he strokes our cocks steadily
for a minute or so and already my  climax is stirring in a serious way.

Frankie grunts, "I'm getting close already.  The head of your cock is so fucking
hard, Dylan." I go, "Umpth."

As  our climaxes quickly approach blast off, his fist picks up the speed of
his  stroking and it's like our hard boners start trembling. The skin on
the back of  Frankie's fist is taut as he tightens his grip and it's stroke,
stroke, stroke.  I moan with my face pressed against his shoulder, "Aaaawwww,
oh my god..." It's  sexually hotter for me I think because it's Frankie's
fist doing the deed. Now  though, he leans into me with both of us grunting,
the muscles in our bodies  tightening, the sides of our faces together. It's
almost painful now, and then,  "Ooooh, ooh," my hips hump as Frankie's
clutching our cock heads keeping them  together. "Aaaawww," from me as warm creamy
cum gushes around the head of our  cocks, both our shoulders shuddering
together. Another moan with bright lights  seemingly bombarding my brain, my
eyes tightly closed, 'Ummmm," with a follow up  stream of cum that slide out
from under my foreskin as Frankie's strokes over  the length of both our
cocks. We're both moving, bumping into each other so hard  Frankie's hand slips
off the docking point and we separate stroking our own  cum-dripping cocks.

"Oooh,  mmm," from me, followed by a deep breath as sensations around my
groin and  inside my thighs pulse, almost like an ache, then the glow of
relief after the  overwhelming sensations of orgasm and my mind clears. It took
only ninety  seconds. There are two bright red spots on Frankie's face, one
at each cheek  bone. We're just inside the front door looking at each other
with me shaking my  head, mumbling, "That's insane.  Holy shit! I was on the
sofa two minutes  ago, then I'm at the front door, and now I'm standing here
with my dick in my  hands savoring my latest orgasm." He's shaking his head
too, "Dylan, I only got  this idea in my head ten minutes ago. I'm driving
back from Rite Aid with my  mom's prescription and I tell myself, 'Self,
you're three minutes from Dylan's'.  And the next thing I know we've both got
our dick in our hands." I pluck some  tissues out of a square box of Kleenex
and hand Frankie a couple. We wipe cum  off our dicks with me mumbling,
"House calls no less. You do house-call docking  in the privacy of one's own
living room. Ninety seconds of intense pleasure. You  could make some money on
the side with this." He chuckles, then says, "I gotta  go! Thanks, Dylan." I
go, "Yeah, sure," and he chuckles again, saying, "Docking  is precisely
eighty-seven times better than jerking off alone." I grin,  "Eighty-seven
times, huh?"

He's  not kidding; he really does 'gotta go' as he opens the door, asking,
"Would you  go out on a date with me some time?"  I'm like, "What? I'm not
sure what  you mean by that. Text me." He nods his head and goes down the
outdoor steps  fast. Closing the door I grin to myself. What the fuck was that?
Then I look out  the window and see his buzzed head disappear inside his
car. Groping myself, I  walk back to my bedroom and into the bathroom to clean
up some more. There's a  spurt of Frankie's cum staining the right leg of
my cargo shorts so I take off  the shorts, then my underwear, tossing them in
the corner. With a washcloth I'm  cleaning my cock and balls chuckling to
myself and wondering again, 'What the  fuck?' That was possibly the most
unique two minutes ever, maybe surpassing my  previously most unique two-minute
experiences with two-inch-Timmy. Or maybe it's  a tie. My shoulders do a
little shudder remembering the feel of Frankie's fist  on my cock with my
shrouded cock head pressing into his. Another little shoulder  shudder. Wow,
that's cool!
Back  on the sofa, still smiling about that unexpected encounter, I'm
smelling the  back of my wrist experiencing strange feelings in my head about
Frankie Denton,  cousin of fat Carl Denton. Coincidence? I wonder. Snapping
back to reality I  check my wristwatch and find its quarter to seven, almost
time for Robby to show  up. Getting up off the sofa to check myself out in the
big mirror over the sofa.  Huh, no telltale signs I just had an orgasm.

Running my fingers through my short  hair I get a shiver thinking, 'Thursday is
my haircut day in Marietta'. Damn, Ryan's haircuts were so fucking
dominantly sexy. The way he did the  haircuts made me cum in my pants. Looking
closely at my reflection in the  mirror, my hair looks fuzzy having grown out at
the tips this past week. If I  were still in Georgia, like I would be if I
fulfilled my contract, by now the  fuzzy tips of my hair would be crisp tight
stubble and I'd feel scalped just  like Sonny, Bean and Ray said they felt
after I gave them Ryan's specialty  haircuts. Huh, and I told myself I'd
never cut anyone's hair that short. Well  fuck, they asked for it. None of them
felt submissive to me afterwards though,  not like me. I always felt uber
submissive to Ryan when he finished scalping me.  Then, when finished the
haircut he'd push my head roughly, saying something  like, 'You're done, boy'.

He knows how to do 'dominant' like no one I've ever  met.

Fuzzy  tips, huh! In my bedroom I get a brush and brush my hair back, but
it's still  much too short to do anything with it. Ryan's haircuts got me
submissively  aroused for sure, but now I'm looking forward to the day I can
comb my hair  again. That's something I haven't been able to do for over two
years. The  doorbell chimes. That's gotta be Robby, and it is. He looks
sparkling clean and  shiny. What a good looking young man, and he didn't shave! I
back up and he  comes in closing the door behind him. I can't help smiling
as he leans in for a  sweet kiss, then says, "Sorry about the tough day you
and Dallas had today. That  fucking Sully is always cutting corners." I
shrug, "We survived," and Robby  grins, "Damn, Dylan, every time I see you I get
a funny feeling in my gonads,"  and we do another sweet kiss. Robby asks,
"Do you want to have a smoke on the  balcony and decide what we'll do
tonight?" I nod, "Sure."

We  light cigarettes on the balcony as Robby's saying, "You know what? I'd
like to  see another movie if you don't mind." I go, "I like movies, Rob,
but let me ask  you something serious first." He grins, telling me, "Yes,
you're more than  worthy! Is that what you were going to ask again?" I go, "Sort
of, yeah," then I  come right out with it, "Um, you're still alright with
me having occasional  recreational side-sex, right?" He says, "Yeah, I guess.

Um, so you're having  side-sex, huh?" I go, "Well, once in a while, but I
guess it made me feel guilty  and I needed to hear from you that it's still
alright." He rubs my shoulder,  "That considerate of you, babe. I've been
working so much this summer I haven't  thought much about side sex. I mostly
thought about you. You with Ryan in  Georgia. But, we agreed not to discuss
recreational sex, right?" I nod my head,  murmuring, "You're so awesome,
Robby! You make my eyes leak a tear or two." He  smiles while wiping away a tear
with the pad of his thumb, saying, "I'm not  worried you'll find someone
else, Dylan. We're destined for each other so do  your alley-catting if you
must, sow any wild oats you need to, but when we're  married it stops. I very
much hope it stops before we get married, but I realize  getting married
before we graduate probably isn't as good an idea as I once  thought it was,
so...." I take a deep breath, then mumble, "You're being mature  enough for
both of us."

Putting  my arms around his waist, looking him in the eyes, I say, "Thank
you." It's  Robby's turn to nod his head, then add, "You're working towards
the day you  don't think about side-sex though, right?" I honestly tell him,
"Yes, and I'm  making progress, really." Giving me a tight squeeze, he
mumbles, "That's all I  ask, babe. That and not bringing up the topic again."
What a wonderful person he  is.

We  go into my bedroom to check what movie we want to see. Robby's sitting
at my  computer with me standing next to him leaning down so my head is next
to his,  both of us reading what's on the screen. Robby smells good so I
kiss the side of  his face as he points to an action flix, saying, "How about
this one?" I go,  "Yeah, Mark Wahlberg's always good." Robby goes, "Okay, we
need to leave right  now though," and that's what we do. I'm wondering if
Chubby's at this movie with  his girlfriend.  If he is I don't see him. After
the movie Robby drives us  to the reservoir where we find three other cars
parked with their lights out.  Robby asks, "What are the chances one of
those cars contain two gay guys  having sex?" I mumble, "Slim to none," and pull
my t-shirt over my head. Robby  does the same as he slides over on the
bench seat, away from the steering wheel.  We get into a hot make-out and we're
soon sweating in the summer night's heat.  The motor's off so no air
conditioning, just the open windows with crickets  chirping in the night.

With  our bare chests touching we move our hands over one another as we
kiss and suck  on each other's mouth. There is something extra sexy about
sweating during sex.  It's somehow almost animalistic. When we're both deeply
aroused I lift my ass  off the seat so Robby can pull my shorts down. Then his
shorts come down and  with our shorts and underwear around our thighs Robby
fucks me wildly with me  laying on my stomach, my knees bent and my
sneakered feet out the driver's side  window. No one could mistake what we're doing
if they see my feet out the window  like this. And, oh, how can it possibly
feel this good? The fat cock of my lover  is pumping in and out of my ass
with him moaning and grunting and me wreathing  in sexual pleasure under him.

Robby's hips are slamming his cock up my ass hard.  "Slap, slap, slap," as I
bite my hand to keep from moaning too loudly while  reveling in the
sensations that are pouring off my anus and prostate. Robby's  sexy scent is in my
head and the steady, "Slap, slap, slap," sounds of his groin  smacking hard
against my butt cheeks have me in a thrilling magic carpet ride.  His
thrusting is so hard the top of my head hits the door with every penetration
that's followed by a grunt from Robby. Then it's a violent body shudder as I
squeal, "Aaaah, eeee," and cum streaks from my cock to wet my belly and the
seat  I'm lying on. As I'm dizzily savoring my orgasm, Robby's humping against
by  buttocks pouring his load of creamy semen inside me. His body relaxes
as he  moans, then lays on me with the familiar feel of his heart beating
fast and hard  against my back. With Robby's heavy deep breathing in my ear I
again marvel at  the sexual pleasure he gives me... a gift like no other.

Groaning,  we finally separate and sit up for a wet kiss, then another deep
breath. We pull  our shorts up, mine immediately getting wet in back from
the cum I shot on the  seat, as well as Robby's cum drooling out of my ass.

It makes me grin. Robby  says, "Our sex together always feel fresh and new to
me." Pulling my t-shirt  over my head, I concur, "Same for me, Rob. It's
you though, you're doing the  topping and no one does it as good." He's behind
the wheel again, chuckling, "Ya  know, coming from you that's a ginormous
compliment. I mean considering your  experience and all, who would know
better than you." I go, "That statement right  there, Rob... that was a world class
back-handed borderline compliment if I've  ever heard one." He squeezes my
shoulder, "I'm kidding, Dylan." He starts the  engine and off we go. He was
alluding to what he assumes is much more side-sex  than I'm actually having,
so I tell him, "You know, you overestimate the amount  of side-sex I have
by a lot." He says, "We're good, babe. I was kidding." And  maybe he was.


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


donnymumford@outlook.com


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


Hoping some readers may be interested, there are 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. They are about a 19 year  old
gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is  a
new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. 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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