Date: Tue, 28 Jun 2016 12:17:38 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S  VACATION BACK HOME     Chapter  32

DYLAN'S  VACATION BACK HOME



Chapter  32



by  Donny Mumford



The alarm goes off at  five o'clock Sunday morning, as planned. Reaching
over I snap it off and lay  against Robby. He yawns, stretches, then rubs my
head, whispering, "Go  back to sleep, babe. I'll get dressed and be out of
here in less than a  minute." I nod my head, then grab him around the waist as
he tries getting  up. He snickers prying my hands apart, muttering, "You
nut, I gotta go."  It's still dark outside but I can see Robby's outline in
the moonlight as  he rustles around getting untangled from the covers. Out of
bed he shuffles his feet along the floor until he finds  either his or my
boxer shorts. Our clothes are scattered  around the floor where we dropped
them last night. Robby hops around on one  foot pulling on a leg of the boxer
shorts, then the other. Using his  feet to feel around on the floor he comes
up with my Polo golf shirt, which  he pulls over his head thinking it's
his. I know it's mine though  because even in faint moon light I can see it's a
solid color and his  shirt from last night was two-toned, not that it
matters. While feeling around  on the floor for his cargo shorts, he whispers, "I
loved our date last  night, boyfriend." With his shorts on he finds his
sandals; then, carrying  his sandals Robbie leans down and we do a kiss on the
lips, both murmuring,  "Love you," and he's out through the bedroom door.

The front door's lock clicks  when he closes that door, then I listen for the
sound of his pickup's motor  turning over, but can't hear it.

Sighing, I think about  last night's reunion date, obviously happy about
it. I say  that even though it lacked the intensity of the reunion date we
had when I came home from Georgia. Of course I was away for two months before
that reunion date. Not that it was two straight months without seeing  him
because he, Chubby, and a friend of Chubby's from the lawn cutting  crew
visited me in Georgia for a weekend. That was a fun weekend,  but didn't count
as a reunion date. When I came home a few weeks after their  visit,
supposedly only for the weekend, Robby and I had an  awesome lover's reunion date.

It was sweet the way Robby forbid me  going back to Georgia saying he can't
stand another day with me away. Sweet!  Previous to that I'd already decided
I wasn't going back, but he  didn't know that. Our date that night was much
more lovers  centric as compared to last night's date which was more of  a
horny-for-each-other date with some joking and clowning around  thrown in.

Both dates were pretty fucking awesome though, like all our  dates. Pulling
over Robby's pillow, I lay my face on it, murmuring, "Awww,"  inhaling Robby's
scent. So nice, but in less then two minutes I'm sleeping again and,  like
earlier tonight, I fall asleep with Robby's scent in my head and a  smile on
my lips.

Sun shining in my eyes  through my bedroom window wakes me four hours
later, and I feel spectacular!  Stretching every muscle in my body tightly... and,
oh boy, that feels good!  Heh heh, sometimes I get a cramp in one muscle or
another when I stretch  too hard, but not this morning. And not a hint of a
hangover either,  plus we only smoked a couple of cigarettes all night so
I'm the picture of  good health today. Plus it's Sunday, so no work today.

After lying in bed for ten minutes thinking  about Robby and me last night, I
get up and do my normal bathroom routine  finishing with a long shower.

Dressed in basketball shorts and a too-large  t-shirt I go barefoot up to
Chubby's condo and look in the front the  window. Nobody's up, not that I thought
there would be. I get the  cleverly hidden emergency key from the mailbox and
let myself in, then make  a beeline for Chubby's bedroom. Quietly opening
his bedroom door, then  navigating my way through the rubble on the floor to
his bed, I look down at the  most important person in my life. Huh, he's
sleeping on his stomach without  making a sound and somehow managing to look
cool even though he's asleep. Hmmm,  what to do now that he's at my mercy?
Well, before waking him  I check my watch for the first time this morning:
9:36 a.m. That's what it  tells me, but 9:36 is a borderline time for waking
Chubby. He was out with  John Beverly and the guys last night and they sure
as shit weren't drinking  orange pop, as the say down South. There's a good
chance he's gonna be hungover  when he wakes-up, so I'll let him sleep it
off some more. Retracing my steps to  his bedroom door I almost fall on my
ass stepping and sliding on a  Burger King bag with something mushy inside.

I'll bet anything it was  a Burger King's Reese's Peanut Butter Cup pie that
Chubby bought intending  to eat later, then forgot about it. Jesus! Out of
his bedroom in one  piece, I tip toe to their refrigerator and look inside to
check on a long  shot that Chubby has already bought the food for brunch.

Ha, that's a good  one! The refrigerator's almost empty just like you'd expect
it to be for someone  returning from a week's vacation and then going out
to dinner the first  night back, like we all did.

Okay, good! This gives  me the opportunity to return part of the favor
Chubby did for me yesterday  morning. I'll let him sleep while I shop for the
groceries, then I'll do  today's brunch myself. Or maybe I'll get Robby to
help me with it. Back at  my place I put on socks and sneakers, find my keys,
then plop Ryan's  Merrimack baseball cap on my head and I'm ready to hunt for
the Jeep. Checking  the alley first, not expecting to see it there. Only
rarely will Chubby  park in back and come up through our basement. Eliminating
that possibility,  I'm out the front door on a quest to find where Chubby
parked our car last  night. Spaces for street parking at the curb below
fill-up when everyone's in  for the night at a reasonable hour. I'm pretty sure
Chubby was not parking  at a reasonable hour however. Condo residents need to
park their cars at the  curb because only the first floor condos, like my
Mom's, has a  garage.

Down the steps I go,  immediately noticing the Jeep's not parked along the
block below our condo,  but as I'm crossing the street to the next block I
see it right away.  Chubby parked it with the driver-side wheels, front and
rear, up on  the sidewalk. Ah ha! It's a good thing I let him sleep as he was
obviously  hammered last night when he parked like that. I'm guessing he
was  celebrating his twenty-first birthday again. This time in a bar with
John Beverly and the boys. That particular rite of passage seldom gets ignored
although it probably should be. Far be it from Chubby or me, however, to be
 martyrs doing the responsible and sensible thing of ignoring turning
twenty-one. Hell, it may very well be the last rite of passage that can,  in any
way, be attributed to a 'boys-being-boys' kind of thing. I  mean, come on,
most twenty-one-year-old guys have more 'boy' in them than 'man'.  While
that's true there comes a time during a guy's middle twenties  when he slips
into that category where he's expected to act like a 'man'  for real. Sure, we
can qualify as a 'young man' up until, um, say  twenty-four, but after that
forget about it. You can't get away with anything  using the 'youth' excuse
from then on.

I'm standing  here on the sidewalk looking at the Jeep and shaking my head
in amazement.  Its front bumper is  tight up against the Mini Cooper in
front of it, and there's like eighteen  inches between the back of the Jeep and
the SUV behind it. How the fuck did  he manage to get between these two
vehicles?  I get in the  Jeep scratching my head, wondering if it's even
possible to get out of  here. After cranking over the engine I begin backing up a
little bit, then  inching forward turning the wheel hard, then repeating it
over and  over. I need to do it eight or nine times before I finally manage
to get the Jeep off the sidewalk with its front bumper sliding across the
Mini's back bumper. Minor damage to the little Mini Cooper in front, but fuck
 it. Driving away happy to be out of that spot, and happy that there's very
 little traffic this early on a Sunday morning, and especially happy that
no  one was walking by seeing my absurd extraction from that parking  spot.

Okay, there's very  little traffic, but that's assuming I avoid St.

Michael's church where  three hundred people will be leaving the nine o'clock Mass
about now. I avoid  that by going the long way around to Stop & Shop and
thereby not  making what would be an inexcusable rookie mistake of getting
tied-up in  church traffic. At Stop & Shop, if I can go by the sparsity of cars
in  the parking lot, it's not busy this early on a Sunday morning. Parking
close to  the front entrance I'm thinking this is a great time to shop. When
I'm  inside the question becomes: what should I get for brunch? This is
where  Chubby's good. He decides instantly what to have for brunch while I'm
never  sure. Grabbing a basket, I start wandering up and down the aisles
looking  for inspiration.

Well, no way I can  go wrong with Jimmy Dean breakfast sausages, so a pack
of  twenty-four go in the basket. We're gonna need butter sometime or other,
so that  goes in along with a loaf of Italian bread for toast, then I head
for  the refrigerated dairy section for half and half. Huh, looking at the
eggs  I notice there's a ridiculously wide range of prices for eggs. The
most expensive are from natural farm fresh, organically fed, free-range
chickens. Their feed has no pesticides, herbicides, or commercial  fertilizers.

Well fuck, they seem safe to eat, although they cost two  to three times what
a generic dozen eggs costs. I do not want all that shit  in my eggs though,
so I put the $4.99 a dozen container of eggs  in the basket as someone's
patting my arm. Looking over my shoulder I see Dougie  Hamilton, who says, "We
need to stop meeting like this, ha ha." We do a one  arm hug, both of us
saying, "Dude, wassup?" I met Dougie about this  time last year right here in
Stop & Shop. He was with his mother and I  thought he looked cutely exotic.

Sort of a Gothic look with a  pale complexion and dressed mostly in black. He
had long strands  of his dark hair on either side of his face, the strands
so long they reached  below his chin. Weird hairdo, but like I said he's
cute... kind  of pretty actually. I didn't see him on campus at all after New
Years, but  there are over five thousand students at Merrimack so it easy to
understand  not bumping into him once we stopped texting. Heh heh, I did
have a hot  three-way with him and his roommate, Jamie, so I'm surprised he
never  texted me for more of that. The dumb ass!
He goes, "Dylan, I see  you got suckered into paying three times what you
need to for a dozen eggs." I  go, "Whaddaya talking about?" He says, "The
nutrient content in those eggs  is the same as a dozen generic eggs, which cost
$1.29. Just  saying..." I'm like, "No way that can be true," then, "Did
your mother let you  go shopping by yourself this time?" He chuckles, mumbling,
"You prick! When  I saw you in here last year that was the only time I ever
went  shopping with Mom." I ask, "Whaddaya shopping for this morning?" He
goes, "I'm getting some snacks for the Pats' pre-season game this
afternoon. Some buddies of mine are coming over to watch the game at my  place. You
wanna come?" I shrug, "Thanks, but I've got something going on  myself this
afternoon. Hey, you still hooking-up with your  hot roommate, Jamie?" He
makes a face, then says, "That two-timing asshole?  No way." I'm like, "Oh, too
bad! You guys made a really cute couple," and  he shrugs, "Yeah, he's cute
but he runs around letting anybody fuck him who  wants to. I got so jealous I
couldn't even fucking sleep. We had this  wicked shouting match calling
each other horrible things, and this was when we  had half of a semester to
go." I grin, "Oh, a cat fight, huh?" He's like,  "Living in the same dorm room
for six weeks without talking to each other was  way past awkward. It was
torture, dude."

I can see he's recently  gotten a regular haircut, so I ask, "How come
you're going back to the  butcher barbers again. Didn't you like the haircuts I
gave you and your  ex-roommate?" He goes, "I didn't want to bother you, but
yeah I liked  your haircuts just as much as a barbers." See, he doesn't get
it. My  haircuts are much better than the one he's got now, and mine are
free, but he can't tell the difference. What a douche, but fuck it. I  mutter,
"It's no bother, but whatever." We bump fist muttering, "Later, dude,"

then he stops and, smelling the back of his wrist, mumbles, "Um, maybe you and
I  could, you know, get it on some place after food shopping." Jeez,  that's
tempting 'cause Dougie's really sexy and cute. I look at him, then run my
fingers through his hair, grabbing a fistful with Dougie leaning into me a
little, as I say, "If you needed a haircut, Dougie, we might have managed
something in my basement, but..." He says, "You can re-do this stupid haircut.

Cut  it short, I don't care." Shaking my head as my dick's moves in my
pants, I  reluctantly mumble, "Another time, Dougie, okay?" He  shrugs, whining,
"Yeah, but why not this morning?" Now I'm smelling  the back of my hand and
using all my considerable willpower resisting the  urge to take him up on
his offer. Finally I force myself  to mumble, "Sorry, man, I can't do it this
morning."  He says, "I'll text you," and we bump fist again, "Yeah, you do
that,  Dougie," and I drift over to the bakery department kicking myself  in
the ass for turning him down. But damn, I just couldn't do it knowing I'll
be  seeing Robby in a couple of hours.

Oh well, it's back  to brunch shopping. In the bakery section I choose a
raspberry Danish  breakfast ring with icing. That'll be a welcome change from
Chubby's Pillsbury cinnamon rolls that we usually get  for the pastry part
of brunch. A little something different for us to  eat with coffee while
Robby and I are preparing the main brunch; well, I'll  be doing like ninety
percent of it, but Robby will be hovering nearby. Glancing  around I see Dougie
just now checking out at a register. His slim body is  very appealing. Then
I'm shaking my head in disgust at the retiree who's  doing the bagging.

What the hell happened to high school boys as  baggers? Ah screw it, and there
goes Dougie out the door. Oh man,  opportunity wasted! Well, back to
shopping. Hmmm, how about a  second protein for this morning's brunch? I've got
breakfast sausages,  and after checking things out, settle for butcher-shop
thick bacon slices. We'll  do soft scrambled eggs, toast with jam, sausages and
thick bacon  slices, home fries with green pepper and onion, and the
pastry; that'll be that.  A basic brunch. Oh, and a bag of Florida oranges for
fresh squeezed orange  juice... that should do it.

Carrying the basket to  one of the self-check-out stations, then at the
last second  spotting a kid at the ten-items-or-less register who looks hot
with a blond buzz cut. Blond buzz cuts turn me on, and the kid's slim  and
cute too. Yeah, but why waste my time? I've been through that  routine too many
times already. I continue to one of the self-serve check-outs  doing it
myself, then pay with my debit card. As I'm bagging my stuff  I'm looking at
the blond buzz-cut kid, who sure looks like he could  easily be eighteen.

Well, he could be seventeen too, and what are the  chances he's even gay? Forget
it! I finish bagging and head  for the door.

Outside the automatic  doors I literally run into Danny Monday. I bump into
his back because I was  taking one last glance at the blond buzz cut kid,
and Danny stopped abruptly to  wave at some guys driving by. He turns around
with an annoyed expression on his  face, but that changes to one of
surprise, saying, "Hey, Dylan! Dude,  you're looking good! What the fuck you doing
up this early on a Sunday morning?"  We do an awkward one arm hug with me
holding the hand with the two plastic  bags of groceries out to the side. I go,
"I could ask you the same thing,  Danny." He's looking sexy-hot this
morning. He shrugs, "I gotta pick up  some things for dear old mom. Jesus, I need
to move out of the house  real fucking soon, and get my own place. Um, ya
seen Rob lately?" I'm like,  "Well yeah, he's my boyfriend," and Danny's like,
"Still?" then, "Hey, good  for you two." I sort of nod my head toward the
parking lot, like I gotta  go, but he puts a hand on my shoulder, asking,
"You guys still have an open  relationship, right?" and before I can say
anything, he adds, "So I was thinking  maybe you and I, like maybe right now,
could get off a quickie. You sure liked  it the last time I fucked you, heh
heh." I'm like, can I believe this shit? He grins, squeezing my shoulder, "

Seriously, do ya wanna do a quickie  eye opener, just for the fuck of it. I got
the old lady's van. I  could drive around  the other side of the parking
lot." I'm kind of shrugging, so Danny goes, "Dude,  I'm so fucking horny I could
fuck a rattlesnake if somebody would  hold it down, and you're looking hot
and horny this morning yourself.  Let's do it!" This proposal coming from
Robby's old side-sex  boyfriend making it extra awkward for me. And you  know
what? I'm not thrilled about his innuendo that I'd be this  easy either! I
only consider it for about a second before saying,  "Are you fucking for
real, Danny? No offense, but grow up, dude," and I walk  past him. He mutters,
"Well fuck you, stuck up!"

Dammit, why was I so  insulting to him? Talk about burning bridges. Still,
it was so unnecessary  of him calling me stuck up? Jesus! All kinds of
random bullshit this  morning, not once but twice. Anyway, who the hell does a
quickie in his old  lady's van on a Sunday morning? I hope Danny gets hornier
and hornier, and stays that  way forever. Stuck up, my ass!
Getting in the Jeep  with my groceries I decide not to tell Robby about
this chance encounter.  He might lose his temper and kick Danny's ass, which
would be  dumb and totally unnecessary. Driving out of the parking lot I'm
thinking,  'At least somebody's still interested in doing a little buddy sex
with me. If  Charlie was with me though, Dougie and Danny would probably push
me  out of the way to come-on to him.' Ha ha, paranoid anyone? Dougie and
Danny  are two hot looking guys, for sure, but after last night with Robby,
sex  with either of them would pale by comparison. Who says I'm not cutting
down  on my side-sex? I'd pat myself on the back if I wasn't driving. Yeah,
but Dougie  was especially tempting. Ya know, he's young and obviously missing
sex  since he had the fight with Jamie, so I could've given him a  really
short haircut and then a hard fucking. Maybe I should text... nah, bad  idea!
Damn, I hate growing up!
Back at the condo I  unload everything on our kitchen table trying to put
missed side-sex  opportunities out of my mind, then I text Robby, 'What are
you doing  now, boyfriend?'  He texts back that he's just got out of a
business meeting with his father and their two partners.  Business meeting, huh?
Slightly pretentious, but I overlook  that and text him back asking when he
can come over to help me with the  brunch. As soon as I send the text Robby
calls me, sounding very upbeat.  "Good morning, Dylan, baby. I'll be over as
soon as I get home to change my  clothes." I ask, "How come you need to
change?" and he goes, "I'm wearing a suit  and tie. Dad says when we're talking
with investors we need to  look like serious professional businessmen.

Today we got the last loans we need  to get started on ordering materials and
finalize the equipment rentals I  told you about before." I go, "Uh huh, a
suit and tie, huh? I don't think I've  ever seen you in a suit and tie." He
chuckles, "It's not a lot of fun wearing a  suit and tie to be honest with
you." I'm like, "I wouldn't think so," and  he says, "Everyone was wearing
business suits though, so I'm glad I  took Dad's advice." I ask, "You're not
texting and driving, right?" He goes,  "No, I'm in the shotgun seat with Dad
driving. I'll see you in  twenty minutes." I tell him I'm leaving the front
door unlocked and for him to  just come in without knocking, then we end the
call. Standing here in the  kitchen I'm trying to picture Robby in a suit and
tie. Bet he looks  handsome! Then I wonder what his father thinks about his
son calling another guy  'baby', like Robby just called me?
Because I got up early,  for a Sunday anyway, after I put the groceries
away I've got the time  to make a mug of coffee and drink it on the balcony
casually reading the  Globe's sports section. Nice weather this morning
although it's  supposed to be in the  upper eighties later this afternoon, which
after all is normal for the  last week in August. In some ways this seemed
like a long summer to me, and  in other ways I feel it flew by too quickly.

Looking back, it's hard to  believe I actually spent most of two months in
Georgia. That makes me run my  fingers though my hair thinking about Ryan and
his weekly specialty  haircuts. Man, I almost miss those haircut-fetish
trances Ryan's haircutting  caused. I wonder if I'll lose the fetish going so long
between haircuts  now? In some ways I wish I would lose it, but in other
ways I wish Ryan were  here right now bossily telling me to 'Get your shirt
off and sit up straight  on the stool. Don't fucking slouch, Dylan!'  Ha ha!
He was  something alright. I hope he's doing okay and his romance with Mike
gets  back on track. The last I heard it wasn't doing too good. Well, we'll
be back  together at college in two weeks. Considering how tight Robby and I
have  become though it's highly unlikely Ryan, my best side-sex buddy ever,
will  seem as sexy and hot to me as I once thought he was. Maybe, like
Willie,  Ryan and I can be best friends without sex. Lots of guys have best
friends  they never have sex with; hell, the vast majority of best  friends don't
have sex together! And they'll both need to be second tier 'best  friends'
because Chubby will always, far and away, be my best  friend.

Yeah that's true, but  both Willie and Ryan have meant a lot to me over the
years, and they still  do although things are different somehow now that
we're getting older.  I'm not saying we'll never have a friendly sexual
encounter, just that it  won't ever be like it was. Things change, like I'm always
telling myself, but  then... it's true, things do change and there's nothing
we can do about that.  Damn though, I'm again thinking about Dougie
Hamilton. I should have  taking him up on his offer. It'd be fun giving him a really
short haircut. Ha  ha, fun for me I mean, and then a little recreational
sex between  friends. But I didn't do it and I can't help but wonder if that
just may be  a harbinger of things to come for me. Jesus, I guess the older
you get the less  fun you're allowed to have. Then I say out loud, "Hey! That
doesn't make  any fuckin' sense."


Robby steps out on the  balcony, asking, "Are you talking to yourself
again, Dylan?" I glance up at  his smiling face, then we hug and kiss, 'hello'. I
go, "Yeah, I was  talking to myself, talking nonsense as a matter of fact.

Man, I can't get  that picture of you in a suit and tie out of my mind. I'll
bet you looked  handsome!" He grins that really cute grin of his, holding
out his iPhone,  "Look for yourself; I took a selfie for you." I look at him
standing  outside a building with a serious expression on his face wearing a
light gray  suit, white dress shirt, and a striped tie." To be goofy, I go,
"I can't  see your feet in this picture; were you wearing sneakers?" He
laughs  and hugs me, "No, I had on flip flops." I go, "You're just as handsome
in  that picture as I thought you'd be. How many suits do you own?" He holds
up  two fingers, muttering, "Dos." I go, "Oh, not tres. He laughs, then
asks, "How can I  help you with brunch?"

We go inside and I get  him started on the electric juicer for the oranges,
making orange juice. I  peel potatoes as we talk about our dinner last
night and Robby's claim that  Tony might have the hots for me. I tell him that's
ridiculous, but then  wonder how old Tony is. Robby says, "I'd say he's
twenty-four  or twenty-five, something like that." We both thinks he's hot,
then I  consider telling Robby about Danny Monday at Stop & Shop, but  again
reject the idea. It's ten-thirty when I get the cubed potatoes,  peppers, and
onion in a skillet over medium heat with two table spoons  of vegetable oil.

They'll cook until crispy brown on the  outside and creamy on the inside.

The eggs are cracked and into a bowl,  then whipped until they're ready for
the frying pan. The sausages  and thick sliced bacon are slowly cooking on an
electric skillet and  I've put the pastry ring on a platter at the center
of the table with a knife  and small plates. Robby finishes setting the table
and we go out on the  balcony again, for a smoke this time.

Robby's looking so cute  and manly this morning. Staring at him I'm
remembering last night  and feeling very amorous towards him. Smoking our
cigarettes, we're  standing at the balcony railing looking at the alley below. I
squeeze the back  of his neck, saying, "Pretty view, huh?" He laughs, "Yeah,
your next door  neighbor has nice trash cans." I say, "Let's get on the chaise
lounge and we  can look up at the sky and pick out cloud formations  that
resemble things down here on earth." He's grinning  and shaking his head
slowly as we both flick our cigarette  butts, aiming for the other side of the
alley. Mine  just skims off the top railing, then falls straight down to my
driveway, as  I mumble, "I'll kick that off the driveway later." He chuckles
as  we squeeze together on the chaise lounge, "See, like I told you last
night, Dylan, you make everything fun." He points up, saying, "Look! Oh  wow,
that cloud right there, um, it looks just like a, um, cloud." I  make a face
at him and grin, then lean over for a sloppy kiss as Robby gets  his arms
around me. My fingers go through his hair and we get into a wild  make-out
with me ending up mostly on top of him with my boner poking his.  Gasping, I
ask, "Can we do it, Rob?" He goes, "Do we have time?" I nod my head,  "Yeah,
downstairs though; not in my bedroom."

With the laps of our  cargo shorts slightly protruding we go inside and
walk quickly to the  basement door, then down the steps with Robby saying,
"There's no way the two of  us are dangerously oversexed, is there?" I say, "No,
not  dangerously anyway. At least I don't believe we are." We walk to the
far corner, out of sight of the stairs, then embrace and do a long wet kiss
with our tongues sliding together. Breathing nosily, Robby unbuttons my
shorts  as I'm doing the same to his. We pull each other's shorts and
underpants down to  our knees and he strokes my cock a few times.  Letting go of my
boner he grabs my butt cheeks, a hands on each  one, and pulls us together
with both of us grinding our hips and humping  them lightly moaning quietly
with arousal, then doing another wild kiss with our  teeth scraping together.

A minute of making-out  before Robby rather roughly turns me around and
pushes me up against  the washing machine. He can be a little rough when he
gets extra aroused in a  certain way, but I can never predict when that'll
happen. Whatever, I like  it! Sticking my ass out Robby guides his boner to my
asshole and humps it in  hard. The head was drooling precum so it punched in
past my sphincter muscle  without much resistance, but his hump against me
pushed my boner against the  front of the washing machine, so I'm like, "Ow!'
My anus, wickedly stretched by  his fat hard boner, hurt too, but no
matter, it's sexy as hell. Robby does  another hip thrust and I'm holding my
breath against the pain for a few seconds  as he leans against my buttocks
pushing the last half inch of his engorged cock  the rest of the way up my ass. He
grabs my chin pulling my head around to  the side so he can lick across my
lips and then up the front of my nose  with a lot of his saliva getting left
behind. Precum drools from my cock  sliding down the front of the washing
machine getting harder and  harder until my boner's flat up against my belly.

Letting go of my chin  and getting an arm around my belly, Robby begins
moving his hips humping  his boner back and forth in my ass, fucking me fast
and hard. The  normal, "Slap, slap, slap," sounds of him smacking against my
ass gets me  insanely hot. I'm picturing his hard fat cock disappearing and
spreading  wide my rectum. The sensations from my prostate immediately make
me feel like  I'm gonna cum with a million tiny nerve endings all around my
anus  sparkling and sizzling making me moan and my shoulders shudder on their
own as a  buzzing chill run up and down my spine. Every hard thrust of his
cock up my ass  make me go, "Umpth!" My head is back against his shoulder
and, with my  eyes closed, I'm only aware of the sensations of  sexual
pleasure created by his trusting boner. It's  hard thrusting, and, "Slap, Slap,
Slap," real fast. As sensations grow  and grow I need to lean forward now, my
forearms resting on the lid of  the washing machine, my ass back far enough
so my boner doesn't hit against  the front of it every time Robby  humps
against me.

He begins grunting,  desperately pulling my ass into his thrust now,
digging his fingers in the skin  at my hips. It's a fast three-minute fuck and I'm
ready to blow, so highly  aroused my grunts and moans make no sense as I
start humping back into  his thrusts whining at the inconceivable pleasure
sensations swarming  all over me. My whining will soon turn into a squeal as I
straighten up,  all my muscles tense, my face scrunched up and my hips hump
while firecrackers  go off behind my eyes and cum spurts out almost straight
up, then  arches over to splatter against the dials on the washing machine.

Everything is  so bright as I take a breathy gasp followed by three quick
shots of cum  splattering this time against the edge of the washing machine.

Overwhelmed  with it all I lay forward on the lid limply now, again taking
deep breaths  savoring the fleeting climax sensations buzzing around my
groin. Oooh, so  fucking awesome, and now Robby's exhaling through his teeth
making a  hissing sound like he's in pain, humping against my buttocks shooting
streams of cum inside me, some of it drooling right back out around his
cock. He  humps against my buttocks twice more, gasping and then lays against
my back  taking deep breaths. Fifteen seconds later he straightens up and
does a few  more thrust, his cock sloshing in his own cum.

When pulling his cock  out of my ass it makes a wet sucking sound and then
his cum runs out  of my wide-opened asshole and down my butt cheeks and
underneath me before  rolling down the inside of my thighs. Wow! I straighten up
slowly, feeling  slightly dizzy and still tingling all over, but feeling
mighty fine.  Turning around, pulling on my dick, I go, "Whoa, that felt good,
Rob." Robby  takes another deep breath,  then says, "I don't know what's
with these quick climaxes lately, but I'm  with you... that did feel good." We
bump fists, then he goes, "I'd apologize  for being so rough about it, except
I know you like it like that and I couldn't  control myself anyway. Babe, I
got so crazily aroused it got out of control a  little." I'm like, "It was
awesome!" and he grins rubbing my head, asking, "You  know what? We're going
to fuck ourselves to death when we get married." I grin,  "I've had that
thought myself and strangely enough the thought has some  appeal, ya know?" He
nods, "Really? Yeah, maybe, but let's clean up now. I'm thinking what if
your brother or mother is upstairs? They might hear that squeal of yours that
I  love so much and come racing down to see if you've hurt  yourself."

In the half bath Robby  helps me clean his cum off my ass and legs, then he
washes his cock, we dry  ourselves and pull our shorts up. Putting my arm
across his shoulders, I tell  him, "Rob, that's an awesome way to start the
day. You fuck good, boss." He  puts his arm around my waist in back and gives
me a hug, "Well, your ass is  pretty good for fucking, ya know? Seriously
though, we're really  good together, all kidding aside." Then he looks at his
reflection in  the mirror, asking me, "You sure I don't need a haircut?" I
go, "You asked  me that yesterday," and as we walk out of the bathroom he
goes, "Yeah, but my  Dad was telling Eric, he's the college kid who's
interning in the office  this summer, that he needs a haircut and I wondered if that
was  a subtle hint for me too." Robby's ultra-concerned about what his
father thinks about  anything and everything. Plus, I hope to hell his old man
knows what he's doing  borrowing all that money. I've had this same thought
before, but I'm  remembering a mere three years ago when the company depended
fifty  percent on the lawn cutting income, and now they've built a new
warehouse  and office space taking a big leap up in manpower and borrowed money.

 Somebody better know what the fuck they're doing. I not sharing my concern
 in the regard with Robby though; instead I tell him, "Hell, I'll give you
a  haircut right now if you want one." He says, "Thanks, how about after we
have brunch?" I nod and we go upstairs with me grinning at  Robby,
whispering, "That anal sex, speaking from experience, was primo  stuff, Rob. It hit
the spot!" He's grinning, mumbling, "Just trying to  keep you happy, babe."

We find Chubby in the kitchen re-stirring  the scrambled eggs. He glances
at us, "Oh fuck! You two look like the cats  that ate the canaries, but if it
was something else, don't enlighten me." I  hug Chubby with one arm and we
do a quick kiss, saying, "G'morning bro." He  tells me, "You are an awesome
prince, Dylan! Thanks for letting me sleep  this morning because, believe it
or not, I've got a tiny hangover  again this morning. Last night the guys
insisted I have some shots and beers  celebrating the fact I've finally
reached the golden age. They've all been  twenty-one for months and months. Well,
Hamster, he just turned twenty-one  two weeks ago, but I was the last one."

I go, "So you're the youngest in your  crowd, but all the celebrating for
being twenty-one should be over by now.  If not you'll turn into an alky, or
a boozer, or a lush, or a wino."  Chubby says, "Oh, now you've gone too far!
I'd never be a wino 'cause I  don't like wine all that much." I chuckle,
"Don't worry, I won't let you be any  of the other things either. I'm your big
brother and I'm looking out for you."  Robby says, seriously, "Jeez, I miss
my brother. Fuckin' Dodger had to  go and join the Army." I pat his
shoulder as my Mom comes out of her bedroom  flooding the place with her smile and
greetings for each of us. Then she  goes, "I don't believe I've ever seen
three more handsome young men in  one place at the same time." Chubby goes,
"Yes, that'd be a highly  unlikely possibility, Dee." She laughs, hugging
Chubby.

Chubby's mom joins us  two minutes later and after everyone gets a hug,
Chubby cooks the  scrambled eggs as I put the rest of brunch in serving
dishes. While we're doing that Robby and the moms have coffees  and the Danish
pastry encouraging Chubby and me by saying everything looks  delicious. It's a
cordial brunch with talk of Wildwood. Robby shocks me by  coming right out
and asking if the moms would mind if he joined us next  year if he pays his
share. The moms think it's a marvelous idea  that he come with us next
summer, but wouldn't hear of Robby paying  for anything. The moms, as usual, clean
the kitchen after brunch and I give  Robby a quick haircut while Chubby
talks on the phone with one of his  girlfriends. This one is Teri, the older
sister of a guy on the grass  cutting crew, Dallas Brown. I really like
working with Dallas. He's a tall good  looking black guy with an infectious laugh,
and he's really smart. His mother's  a school principle and his dad's an
attorney. We're always kidding him  asking what's a smart rich dude like you
doing working with the likes of  us?
After the  haircut, Robby, Chubby and I go for a swim in Dicker's pool.

When  we've been screwing around in the pool for about a half hour, Robby's
parents join us in the  back yard with neighbors who have two teenage
daughters who want to swim too.  One's a shy chunky girl with very short curly hair.

 Her sister has a nice body for a seventeen-year-old, but she's an
obnoxious flirt assuming  the three of us are hot to get in her pants. Needless to
say she isn't privy to  the information regarding Robby and me, plus Chubby
would no more think of  messing around with jail bait than drowning himself,
so after a while the  girl gets huffy and calls us a bunch of fags. She's
two-thirds correct without  even knowing it.

We leave the pool  twenty minutes after the girls show up. After putting on
our sneakers and  changing back into shorts we ride over to the high school
in the  Jeep and get involved in a game of pick-up basketball with three
guys  closer to thirty then twenty years old. We're still `boys' according to
them.  Like, "You boys gotta take it easy on us old guys. We've been out of
school for  a decade." That's about as clever as they get with their banner.

The three  friends are boringly not cool, plus they aren't very good at
basketball. We  showed them very little mercy, soundly beating them in a half
court  game and then leave without giving them a rematch even though they
claimed  they were just warming up. Sweating like mad we walk across the street
 and gulp down quart bottles of water that we pay too much for at  a
convenience store, then decide to drive to the Dairy Queen for  some of their
imitation ice cream and to see who might be at that popular  gathering spot.

As I park the Jeep I  see there's the usual summer crowd milling around the
Dairy Queen  grounds. Getting out of the Jeep Robby immediately hooks-up
with  two guys he played with on Framingham High's baseball team. Once
teammates, teammates for life; that's what Robby told me one  time. Almost any
place we go in town we're likely to spot at least one of  Robby's teammates
from the four years he played on the team. I  tap Chubby's arm, nodding my head
at a picnic table where one of his  ex-girlfriends is sitting. Chubby
mutters, "Oh boy," then, with a smirk,  he says, "I'll be right back," and he
goes over to exchange insults  with his ex-girlfriend, Mary Jo, who's sitting
with three other girls. I  hear Mary Jo yell, "Oh my God! Look who's out of
jail!" then in a bored  conversational voice, she asks, "What the fuck do you
want, Jeffery?"  Chubby saying, "Well, it's nice to see you girls looking
so good," then "Ya  got that twenty buck you owe me, MJ?" Without waiting for
a response,  Chubby sits next to one of the girls, saying, "Darlene,
darling!  Wow, you grew up good, girl!" I turn away as Mary Jo says something I
can't hear, but I can hear Chubby laughing his ass off  at whatever it was
she said.

Spotting Bean and Devon  leaning against a car, I walked over to talk with
them. They're both  holding plastic cups of what looks like root beer
floats, which makes it a  little awkward doing the one arm hug greeting. Devon
looks sexy as he offers me  a sip of that sweet concoction, which I take so I
can lick the straw. He grins,  looking me in the eyes for a long second or
two. Unbeknownst to  me Ray's with them and he comes around from the lavatory
joining us,  shouting, "Dylan Newman! Finally, back from wherever you went,
huh?" I  mumble, "Um, I've seen you since I got back from Georgia, Ray. I
gave you a  haircut, fer chrissakes. How ya doing?" He goes, "I've never been
better,  but what's up with you slumming it today? I mean you're  actually
talking to us?" I go, "Jesus, you're such an asshole, Ray. What  was the name
of that charm school you graduated from?" Ray's like, "What the  hell does
that mean?" Bean goes, "He didn't go to charm school, Dylan. We all  went to
the same high school you went too." Oh fuck, clueless, Bean. Devon and I
exchange smirks, grinning and doing little shakes of our  heads. Bean's
clueless, but also harmless. Still, it's hard to believe I  actually spent a
summer with these guys. I mumble, "Thanks for clearing  that up for me,
Theodore. Take care, boys, I'm going to get in line.  Can I get you guys anything?"

Ray goes, "You already had your chance with  me, Dylan. Buying me a fucking
vanilla cone of soft serve isn't going to  get me to give you another
chance." I'm like, "Get over yourself, Ray," and  he goes, "I'm joking with you!"

I walk towards one of the two lines at  the serving windows as Bean shouts
after me, "Hey, did you know Dawg  joined the Marines," and I shout back,
"No, I didn't, but he'll make a good  Marine!" Then I have a flash back to my
Marine in Parkers Park so long ago. That  stud was hot!
Standing in line  I'm trying to remember why I ever thought I had the hots
for Ray? I  can't make any sense of that as Chubby comes up to me grinning,
and asking, "Whaddaya gonna get, bro." I say, "Strawberry sundae, ya want
me to  get you something?" A guy a couple of spots back in line, says, "No
butting the line, buster." Chubby smirks, muttering, "Buster, ha ha," but
other  than that he ignores the guy and inches in line ahead of me,  saying,
"I'm not sure what I want. I'll check out all those pictures of the ice  cream
treats on the glass wall." I go, "Sure, but don't expect whatever you
order to look anything like these glossy pictures." He goes, "Yeah I know,  it's
like the pictures in McDonalds of the Big Mac. Awesome picture but  when
you get your own Big Mac it looks like it was in somebody's back pocket all
afternoon." Chubby finally decides on a chocolate dipped medium cone, and we
eat  our soft serve imitation ice cream treats while leaning up against the
Jeep. Grinning and muttering under our breath we mock and laugh at the
people we see in line. I finally say, "Lucky for us we're perfect, huh, bro?"

He  nods his head chuckling.

Robby comes over,  asking, "You guys interested in a pick-up baseball game
at Kent Field?"  Chubby goes, "Nah, it's too hot, Rob, I'll pass." He asks,
"How about you,  Dylan?" I say, "First of all, are you okay? You look pale."

He shrugs, "I'm  maybe coming down with a cold or something. How  about
playing some ball?" Taking a deep breath, then letting it out  slowly, I go,
"Usually I'd say yes, Rob, but I'm with Chub on this one.  It's too fucking
hot and we just played that basketball game." He goes,  "Okay, but you don't
mind if I play, do you?" I'm like, "Oh come on, Rob,  of course I don't
mind," and he shrugs, "I think I will then. I'll call you  later," and we bump
fists smiling at each other, as I mumble, "Don't get hurt,  boss." He walks
back to the guys he was talking with, as Chubby says, "Hey,  let's watch the
four-thirty preseason football game on TV in air conditioned comfort." I
say,  "Yeah, okay, that's about as much exertion as I can handle. Who's
playing?" and  as we get in the Jeep I see Danny Monday drive by with three guys in
his car...  one of them is Robby.



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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