Date: Wed, 3 Oct 2012 05:36:45 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: OLIVER'S ADVENTURES  Chapter 17 (More Joey and Randy)  by Donny Mumford

			    OLIVER'S ADVENTURES

		     Chapter 17 (More Joey and Randy)

			     by Donny Mumford



Joey asking me to join him in his bath is an unexpected request, so for fun
I exaggerated how astonished I am by slowly asking, "You want a
self-proclaimed gay boy in the bathtub with you? You're not drunk are you?"
He laughs, "If the gay boy in question is my slave then it's okay by me ,
drunk or not."  My reply is, "Oh, yes master, of course".  The drunk
comment refers to Joey's bath after the gymnast's party when I shared the
tub with him from necessity.  He was drunk that night and there was a
chance he'd slide over and further injure one of his elbows, banging it
against the tub or something, so I was in there to steady him. Anyway, like
most things with Joey, all of this is done with light banter so asking me
to join him in the tub doesn't necessarily mean anything. He may have even
suggested it as a favor to me; that would be just like Joey.  He knows I'm
gay and that I get aroused touching and taking care of him, he's seen my
many boners as proof of that.  He's also very grateful for all my
care-giving and especially the specialized stuff and maybe he wants to
return the favor; whatever, this a nice treat for me because his body is
special and I do enjoy rubbing against it. I'm only wearing boxers, which
come right off and I step in the bathtub behind Joey and sit down behind
him. As soon as I'm situated he leans back against my chest and rests the
back of his head on my shoulder.  "Okay, now take care of me, slave," as he
closes his eyes his body completely relaxes against me.  Quite quickly my
boner grows and Joey mumbles, "I can feel that damn boner of your's.  You
better put a leash on it."  I go, "You should probably close your eyes and
mouth tightly now, Joey, because here comes a soapy sponge," and I wash his
face, ears, neck and shoulders, but I do not put a leash on my
boner. Taking my time I slowly wash Joey's arms, hands, under arms, and
then push him forward to wash his back. With an arm around his chest I pull
him back against me and wash the front of his torso, and chest. It's
soothing and we both slip into a dreamy lazy mood, neither of us talking
and, except for an occasional bit of noisy breathing from both of us, the
only sounds in the bathroom are the subtle sounds of dripping water and a
soapy sponge on slippery skin.  By the time I get down to his belly button
the sponge is bumping into Joey's long fat boner; he doesn't have a leash
on his either.

You don't need to be gay to get a boner from bodily contact, and I've seen
many boners on Joey so it doesn't surprise me that he has one now, but it
does leaves open the possibility that he's either bisexual or maybe even
gay. I'll bet no one has touched his penis since the last time I touched it
almost four days ago. For damn sure Joey hasn't touched it, he couldn't get
his arms extended that far down, poor boy. Moving into a tight position in
the tub, almost next to him, I wash his legs and feet. Joey still has his
eyes lightly closed with a peaceful look on his face. Supporting him with
my left arm around his neck, holding his side against my chest, I go over
his chest and stomach again, down close to his cock. This position wouldn't
even be possible in most modern bathtub, but this old tub is huge. Joey's
becoming a very clean boy as I scrub and scrub with that big bath sponge.
The gel's lathered into thick creamy bubbles and helps me get Joey squeaky
clean. Before washing his feet I stare at them thinking about the twins'
narrow, long feet, so perfectly formed. Joey has rather small feet, but
aside from that they look as perfect as the Twins'.  And by the way, the
misguided wisdom that small feet equal small penis definitely does not
apply in Joey's case.  After soaping his feet I let the sponge float in the
water and use my hand to massage the soap into each foot because I like
touching them.  I don't think I'll ever take feet for granted again after
watching Noah and Nathan with their foot fetish routine, not that I have a
foot fetish, but those boys were pretty damn hot!  Finished with his lower
extremities I maneuvered in the tub until I'm sitting behind him again and
begin sponging his private parts. We both remain very quiet as I wash his
boner, balls, and all around his crotch, and then under his buttock. Joey
raises one buttock and then the other to allow me access.  We're familiar
with the process by now.  When he's up on his right buttock I clean his
left one and get the soapy sponge scrubbing all along his crack, and then
the corner of the sponge a tiny bit up his hole too.  Then I push the tip
of my finger inside him for just a few seconds; he's so relaxed it goes in
easily, but once inside he closes his hole tightly on my finger, holding it
there briefly. A long windy sound from Joey as he whistles air quietly
through his clenched teeth.

Finished the bathing, I toss the sponge in the direction of the laundry
basket and just relax in that warm soapy water with Joey leaning back
against me and my arms wrapped around his chest, with my cock still hard as
steel pointing left up against his left buttock. After a bit I ask, "You
want your hair shampooed, Joey?"  He's tired and in a quiet voice, he asks,
"Can we do it tomorrow morning, Oliver? You know what I really need though,
don't ya?"  I mumble, "Sure, master," and I get some bath gel on my right
hand and stroke that long cock of his, me peeking around his shoulder so I
can watch the uncut foreskin slide on and off his swollen cock head, so
full of blood it's dark red. It's peeking up out of the water an inch or so
and probably is leaking pre cum, but I can't tell because the bath water
keeps sloshing up on it. Joey moan, "Oh yeah, tighter Oliver, faster." He
doesn't last two minutes before climaxing an amazing amount of creamy spunk
that goes up, then over to splash against the side of the tub. Joey gets
jerking around so much during his climax that he's got himself twisted
sideways and his last cum shots fire directly, in short spurts, at the side
of the tub. It happens too quickly to bring on my climax, so I reach down
and do myself under water.  I'm not all that horny anyway because of that
load I'd shot off while blowing Randy.  Still, it feels mighty good
shooting off in the warm water, holding onto Joey.

Apparently Joey's climax felt a lot better to him than just good because
he's still gulping and grunting along with me as I'm climaxing with soft
grunting sounds in my throat. For Joey it's been over four days since his
last climax and he'd told me awhile back that before the accident he'd been
jerking himself off three or four times a day. A boy after my own heart,
but I wonder what he thinks about while he's doing all that wanking. The
days he was home over the weekend without even one climax must have been
stressful for him, the poor horny boy. After a short recovery period I
drain the tub and use the hose with the shower head attachment to
thoroughly rinse us both off. The water's very warm and feel so nice and
relaxing we lay together in the tub as I keep the shower head on us until
the water starts to get cool.Then we struggle a bit getting out of that
big, old tub and I dry us both; me standing in front of Joey and him
sitting on that straight back chair I'd brought in earlier for the
enema. That chair really helps the process along so I decide to leave it
right there in the bathroom.  See, the experience curve is kicking in; the
one we're learning about in our business managemnent course. I get a pair
of clean boxer underwear for Joey and then put his light-weight cast back
on his arms. After that, with Joey's help, I get him in his bed.  Then,
with me sitting next to him, we spent an hour going over course material
for tomorrow's classes.  At the end of that Joey says he's really tired and
gets comfortable under the covers ready for sleep. I'm about to turn off
the lights when he complains that his rear-end feels raw from all the
crapping he did earlier with the enema. Pulling the covers down ad helping
Joey get on his stomach, I pull down the back of his boxers and use creamy
Vaseline to finger his hole with, pushing lots of creamy Vaseline into his
ass with him quietly moaning with pleasure again.  His hole doesn't look at
all raw to me, but I know what this drill is about.  It takes about ten
minutes of fingering his hole and then another five minutes of fingering
him while stroking his new boner before he finally has his second climax of
the evening; a small one, but he does a lot of pleasure moaning along the
way. Smiling to myself, I wipe up the spurt of cum as Joey collapses on his
pillow and is asleep before I even finish cleaning the Vaseline off my
finger.  Back in the bedroom I climb in my bed leaving only the night light
on.  It shines weakly on Joey's face so I study his looks for awhile.

If I go by my imaginary cute meter, which assigned a ratings of ten for
Frankie, Randy, and the twins, I guess I'll have to be honest and accept
the fact that Joey isn't at their level.  Maybe I'd felt he was because I
like him so much.  Joey actually only registers maybe an eight on my
cute-meter.  Hmmmm, I really do love that olive complexion of his though,
and his short dark curly hair is especially nice too. He's a bean pole for
sure, but a very fit five foot, nine inches, and then I think about his
eyes. They're closed now, but I can picture them in my head; dark blue eyes
with long black curved eyelashes and a fine line of dark eyebrows. Whoa,
its all so hot and contrasts so nicely with that special smooth creamy
olive complexion. I always want to lick his face.  Okay, maybe he's not a
ten per se, but he definitely has pedigree looks, no doubt about that, and
he's sexy too.  Striking looks surely must qualify him for a cute category
of some kind, and so what if his nose is a little too big for his face,
screw that; I love that nose 'cause it's Joey's nose.  I see fuzz on his
upper lip that will someday grow into whiskers I guess, same for the fuzz
along his sideburns. I'm not a fan of whiskers, but what are ya gonna do?
Nice pink lips and those cute, kinda small white teeth.  Oh what the fuck
was I thinking? He's cute! The hell with my cute-meter, Joey's cute in a
special way.  He's cute and pretty.  And then I think again of his
bean-pole, gymnast body with the muscle-packed buttocks and, oh jeez, it's
exciting stuff! Just imagine being able to put my slippery boner between
those two hard buttocks..  Lord have mercy, I squirm under the covers
groping my dick.

Somewhere along the line I fall asleep because the next thing I'm aware of
is the alarm going off; the night light still shining where Joey's face use
to be.  He's on his side now and doesn't seem to be noticing the light or
the alarm, still sleeping soundly.  It makes me think he must have had a
terrible weekend and I feel bad for him because my three-day weekend was
great.  Well, today is Tuesday and the holiday weekend is now officially
over.  It's back to class and the drudgery of homework and studying for
exams.  I'd set the alarm for a half hour earlier then normal so we'd have
time to shampoo Joey's hair; it hasn't been shampooed since the last time I
did it here in our room.  But, instead of getting up right away, I spend
some time thinking about how exciting and satisfying my last three days
were.  I'm feeling on top of the world and happy and how often do I feel
I'm lucky, like I've been feeling lately? It's kind of a rare occasion
alright.  Then Frankie comes to mind and I wonder, 'How can I be the lucky
one and the happy one when Frankie's not even around, or for that matter,
even allowed to email me?'  What's that all about?  Just then Joey says in
his sleepy voice, "Help me get to the bathroom, Oliver, please. I need to
pee." Well, whats new about that, and the day begins. Getting him on the
toilet and holding his dick, then getting him situated on the new bathroom
chair so I can take a nice pee of my own. Joey looks away making some kind
of sound in his throat, but he's seen my dick any number of times so I
don't really know why he did the exaggerated look-away.  After cleaning my
hands and face and brushing my teeth, I do the same for Joey.  Next is
Joey's shampoo and massage routine, including his shoulder exercises. When
all of that is done I pull off Joey's boxes and lay a soaking-wet, warm,
washcloth on his pubic area to soften his pubic hair stubble that Joey
claims is itching him. Lathering them with shaving cream gets Joey biting
his upper lip and short of breath. When I take out the safety razor his
cock begins boning up because of his fetish for shaved pubic hair.

Joey goes, "Ohh, wait a second Oliver.  I can't catch my breath and my
heart is going to beat itself out of my chest. This shaved pubes deal gets
me kinda excited."  I squeeze the back of his neck and he bends his head
back to rub against my hand with the back of his head.  While he's trying
to calm down I run my fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp.
Joey says, "That feels nice Oliver.  I think I'm okay now."  What I think
he means is I can shave his pubes without him spontaneously climaxing and
shooting spunk all over the place.  He hasn't been able to hold it off in
the past, but we'll see how he goes this time. Maybe the shaving will lose
it's sexual allure as we do it more and more. Holding his boner in my fist
I move it out of harms way as I carefully shave his lower belly and under
his balls.  Almost with the first scrape of the razor though, he goes,
"Ahhh, oh my God," and squirms in the chair. Guess the allure is still
there for him. I need to be alert to his squirming because I don't want to
nick his skin with the razor. His boner in my hand gets harder and harder
with each pass of the razor until pre cum's drooling over my fist. Joey's
squeezing his eyes closed moaning with pleasure, and it's more than a
little sexy for both of us.
 Each scrape of the razor is followed by a sexually turned-on moan from
Joey as his fetish takes over his brain. Funny thing about fetishes,
there's no way to control your emotions when involved in one. Last time I
did this his boner spurted spunk almost as soon as I began shaving him.
Not this time though, so maybe he's getting use to it like I speculated
might happen.  Finished shaving him as clean and hairless as a baby's ass,
I'm verifying that I haven't missed a spot by rubbing my fingers all around
his groin and somehow this triggers something and Joey goes "Agggh," as the
first squirt of cum blurbs two inches out of his pee slit and joins the
precum already drooling over my fingers.  Joey goes, "Oh, agggh, Oliver!"
and I know he desperately wants me to stroke him off so he can get the full
impact of his climax. Standing behind him now, I do my best to help him
out. A few quick strokes pulling the uncut foreskin on and off the head of
his boner causes a foot long string of creamy cum to fire out of that seven
inch boner with Joey making odd humming sounds.  Next a fat, six inch high
spurt joins the previous one pooling on his belly and the humming sound
changes to a funny squeal as Joey's shoulders shudder; I'm trying not to
laugh. Joey's in the throes of the sensations created by his orgasm and
probably wouldn't notice if I did laugh. The remainder of the orgasm is
creamy drools as I slowly stroke his cock milking his nuts dry. Joey's
squirming so much I need to wrap my arm around his narrow waist and hold
him tight against the back of the chair. Then, when he's docile in the
chair, I let go of him and use the same warm damp washcloth from earlier to
clean up his cum as he moans contentedly with his head lulling against
mine. It's actually very arousing to me to have control of his climaxes
like this, and it also gives me a good feeling to be helping him get
through his recovery period after the car wreck. Finished cleaning him, I
rest my forehead on the top of his head and then, unable to stop myself, I
give him a longish kiss on the side of his forehead and another one on his
cheek.  Joey's use to these kisses by now; as long as I don't over-do it he
doesn't seem to mind. The one time I tried kissing the side of his lips he
protested quietly so I haven't tried that again, but I'm very attached to
him by now.

The shaving of his pubes is obviously erotic for Joey and he has his
periods of shuddering and shaking during his climaxes, but calming down now
he chooses to ignore my kisses, and laugh at himself, saying, "This crazy
fetish!  Huh, Oliver?  How do you figure them out?" I won't tell him about
the twins fetish and I won't tell the Twins about Joey's fetish.  It's
their business. I mutter, "Yeah, I don't know anything about fetishes,
Joey, but I do know we've got to hustle things up now or we'll be late for
our first class. " Joey says, "Well then stop playing with my private parts
and get our asses to class".  Earlier, while I was shampooing his hair, he
told me how much better he felt this morning, and he's referring to his
bowels and his ass because of the enema last night.  So now he feels great
in that other special area too because his climax has just taken care of
his horniness for the moment, and he's back to his nice smiley self. I love
this kid, I really do, and I guess taking care of someone to the degree I'm
taking care of Joey just naturally makes you grow closer to one another.
He's a year younger than me because I'd taken a year off from middle school
after my friend died, so I'm a nineteen year old freshman and Joey's the
usual freshman age of eighteen. I've come to kind of think of Joey as my
younger brother, the one I never had, and I'm determined to be just as good
a big brother to Joey as Christian always was to me. We make it to class on
time and the entire day goes very well. Especially the last period because
our professor for that course left a note on the door saying he had to go
home early to deal with a family emergency so we're done for the day early.
It's an unusually nice day for fall in the northeast so Joey and I enjoy
some sun outside while we smoke a few cigarettes sharing the same
one. Frankie Nerney got me hooked on cigarettes and Joey tells me his
friend who died in the car accident got him hooked on it when they were
juniors in high school. He gets choked up discussing his friends death and
shed a few tears without being embarrassed about it. I listen as he tells
me he thinks about his dead friend often, making me think about Tyler so
many years ago. Joey and me have a lot in common. As we talk, I hold the
cigarette to Joey lips and he drags on it, then I take a drag feeling a
little dampness from his saliva and I like that so I leave some of my
saliva on the filter for him. After a bit we get to laughing about that,
which is good because it gets Joey thinking about something besides the
accident.

He tells me how well his Doctor's appointment went over the weekend and how
excited he is that he has only till Thankgiving break for the elbow casts.
Joey's voice gets a little emotional again, but this time from anticipating
being free of his casts at last. I go, "Just think how happy I'll be not to
need to wipe your ass after your frequent craps." Joey goes, "Bull, you
love doing that," and I mutter, "Do not," and he's like, "You lie like a
rug".  It's all in fun, and frankly I can't remember feeling more relaxed
or happier then I am now with Joey.  We take our time getting to gymnastic
practice where Joey is now helping to arrange the gymnasts' floor
exercises. Joey's sort of like an unofficial assistant coach, which keeps
him busy and involved with the team. It's obvious he's popular and appears
to have natural leadership skills. Hanging around practice for awhile I
spot Randy who nods his head that I should come over to his side of the
gym.  Casually sauntering over, I watch Randy practice with his coach,
amazed at how athletic gymnast are. About ten minutes later he's done
working with the coach, who moves on to the next gymnast. Randy's looking
so cool as he glides over to me, his feet barely touching the floor.  When
he gets near me his cute face brakes out in this awesome smile, which he
seemed to be trying to hold it back, but that big smile just came out
anyway. He sits down on the bleacher row in front of me and turns around to
go, "Bow wow," and we chuckled at that because yesterday he said he'd
probably follow me around like my dog begging me to blow him again, so I
mutter, "Any time, dude" and he's like, "No, my turn next time, but you're
a tough act to follow."  We try agreeing on a time to hook up, but he
decides he needs to check the team's schedule first so he tells me to look
him up tomorrow at practice.  He's more or less telling me what to do, but
he's a junior so I don't mind and it actually leaves me feeling good about
myself because Randy Rider is the hottest guy I've seen at the university,
and he's got a thing for little ole Oliver Nickerson and that's a big deal
to me.

Of course, there's always a little crap in everyone's life and Tuesdays
usually provides some for me.  It's laundry day and today I have all those
brown water towels that smell suspiciously of shit to wash, and that's in
addition to the regular weekly wash for Joey and me and of course Richards'
and Phil's laundry too. Balls!  Oh well, a lot of things are going my way
lately so I'm not going to dwell on the negative.  Even this Tuesday's
extra wash load can be done in less than two hours; washed, dried, folded,
and delivered.  I might as well get started, my mind's still mostly on
Randy Rider.  He wants to suck me off, sweet. As I'm gathering up the
shitty towels, stuffing them into two large plastic trash bags, I think how
I'd rather be enjoying this beautiful day outside and just leave the
laundry for tomorrow, except I can't because Richard insist on me doing his
laundry on Tuesdays, and that bully Phil will smack my ass if I try to
change it.  What a prick Phil is.  I haven't even seen the other prick,
Richard, since he handed the job of supervising my laundry chores to Phil.
Richard is clever too, he's covering Phil's and his ass by paying for the
cost of Joey and my laundromat and dryers too.  If I ever complained to
someone about having to do their laundry it will look like I'm earning
money doing it, that it's a paying job, so what am I bitching about, right?
Plus, they're seniors so I'm not about to complain anyway; no one ever
believes a freshman about anything. Carrying the shitty towels down first,
I get them going on the heavy cycle with bleach, extra detergent, and a
second rinse. Then I hurry up to get Phil and Richard's laundry on the
third floor.  Phil doesn't like it if I'm late because he has to stay in
the room until I get there.  The thing about this chain of command, from
Richard to Phil to me, is that if something gets screwed up with their
laundry, Phil, not me, endures Richard's wrath. Phil's scared of Richard
and I guess so am I because he can't control his temper and he doesn't know
his own strength.  If only I hadn't bumped into that prick when I first got
here he'd never even know I was alive.  Then, to make matters worse, later
I also knocked his clean clothes on the dirty floor in the laundromat.
Shit, terrible luck! So, now I either do his laundry or get
beat-up. There's a side benefit to this though; none of the senior
wrestlers fuck with me at all because they know I'm Richard's flunky and
everyone thinks Richard is nuts. All the other freshman in our dorm have
had unpleasant experiences with the third floor bullies. Senior wrestlers,
what a bunch of assholes.

Oh well, here goes: knocking twice on Phil's door I'm nervous, as I always
am when picking up their laundry, and that's because Phil has this thing
about smacking my ass. He yells, "Come on it, it's open".  When I step
inside, he says, "I told ya before, just come the fuck in. You're the
laundry boy, ya don't have to knock!  Oh, and there's an extra duffel bag
of stuff I want laundered today. I brought it back with me from home
yesterday, it's some of my winter stuff.  You'll need to make two trips
probably. Well, what the fuck are you staring at?  Get moving." Phil seems
very edgy today. Edgy and scary so I make sure not to say anything. Even
so, apparently I frowned at the mention extra laundry or did something
wrong because, without me making a sound, he storms out of his desk chair
and does some kind of wrestling move so fast it's like it never happened,
but I'm on my ass looking up at the ceiling.  I don't even know if I'm
hurt.  Phil's face is bright red; all of these maniacs are on something,
steroids or God knows what, but they're unbalanced and borderline crazy.
Phil snarls, "I do not intend putting up with any shit from you today,
girlie-boy.  No annoyed faces, no back talk, no nothing; just do what
you're fucking told. Ya got that?"  Beginning to realize my left wrist has
been sprained, probably when I tried to break my fall, I hold it in my
right hand and massaged it, trying to determine the extent of my injury. It
doesn't seem too bad. Phil blurts out, "You skinny shit!  I asked you a
question," and with that he yanks me to my feet and pushes me, bending me
over onto his desk, his left hand at the back of my neck pinning my face to
the desktop. The button on my jeans pops off when he violently pulled my
jeans and underpants down. Then the palm of his right hand is snapping off
slap after slap on my bare ass. I'm helpless against this brute and while I
should probably be humiliated to have my pants pulled down with my cock
swinging against the desk with each loud slap on my bare ass, mostly I
concentrate on not peeing myself, that's what I concentrated on the last
time he spanked me too. Didn't work then. It's never obvious what sets this
maniac off. He smacks my ass until he's out of breath.  As soon as he stops
I start begging him that I've had enough because the pain just builds and
builds the longer he spanks me. "Please Phil, I'm sorry. I'll get all your
stuff and do it first and I promise it will be done right. I didn't mean to
ignore your question." I can hear his heavy breathing and only part of it's
from exertion because he appears to get sexually stimulated by spanking
me. I've seen and even felt his boner from time to time, but always inside
his pants as he's never exposed himself while I'm there.  Breathlessly Phil
says, "You are a maggot and the next time you disrespect me it will be much
worse.  Got it, maggot?"  I mumble, "Yes, I'm sorry.  Please, I learned my
lesson" With me begging in the background he gives my ass a dozen more
deliberate smacks, each one harder than the one before it, and even through
I'm squeezing it closed with all my might my bladder spurts out a few
squirts of pee as tears break out in my eyes.  So much for begging. The pee
is on my thigh and down on my crumpled pants hanging just under my limp
dick.

Still pressing my face against his desktop he grunts out, "Get all the
fucking clothes, clean the fucking clothes, dry the fucking clothes, fold
em and get them back up here fucking fast.  Got it?"  I say real quick,
"Yes Phil, right away".  He backs away breathing hard and says, "Don't
move, pussy, stay on that desk. When you bring the clean, folded clothes
back up here, not a single word from you. Keep your head down and put the
clothes away, and then come in here and drop your drawers and lean over
this desk just like you're doing right now. You wait like that while I
inspect the job you did and decide if you need another smack or two on your
ass.  Got it?"  I quickly say, "Yes, Phil."  He tells me to go ahead then
and do what I'm told. Straightening up from his desk, quickly pulling up my
wet underwear and jeans, I walk quickly into the utility room to get his
duffel bag and place it outside the dorm room door, then back in to get the
overflowing laundry basket. Keeping my head humbly down all the time, but
he never looks up which I'm grateful for because he'd see the big pee stain
on the front of my jeans. My buttocks are burning and sore as hell and it
hurts to walk, but I'm doing everything quickly anyway. Holding the laundry
in front of me to hide the pee stain I hurry from the room, just in case he
does look up. There's no fooling myself, Phil totally dominates me and I'm
going to be a little scared mouse whenever I see him. Next time I'm doing
what he just said; keep my head humbly down and quickly do whatever he
says. No one else sees me like that but Phil so it's something I need to
live with. It's only once a week for a short period of time and from now on
I'm going to be totally submissive and cooperative to Phil. It's the best
way to avoid a spanking and he really hurts me with those spankings.

In the laundromat there are a few other kids doing laundry, none I know and
thank God for that.  It's necessary to keep something in front of me at all
times to hide my pee stain in the laundromat too. I get the washing
machines going and then back to my room to clean myself up and change
clothes, feeling sorry for myself the whole time. All the good feelings I'd
had just a little while ago vanish into oblivion.  In my bathroom I run
cold water in the tub and sit bare ass in the cold water, the stinging
makes my eyes water, but I'm not crying. That's one battle I'm winning; all
my efforts go into not crying. I've got to conquer that urge I've had
since, well since Tyler's death I've been a crybaby at times and I'm too
old for that shit. At first all I care about is relieving the burning
stinging on my ass cheeks, but when they feel a bit better I spend all my
energy hating on Phil and to a lesser degree, Richard.  After exhausting my
hate energy, I try to understand it all and I still can't come up with any
better explanation then, wicked bad luck on my part to get myself involved
with a sadist like Phil. Richard almost seems normal compared to
Phil. Phil's one sick motherfucker alright. Then I wonder why I accept the
wicked good luck I experience as what I deserved, but wicked bad luck is
not what I deserved at all.  After trying to analyze that I feel a headache
coming on so I drag my smacked ass out of the tub and get dressed. Back in
the Laundromat I switch everything from the washing machines to the dryers
and then go into the vending area for a Snapple.  My ass is still painful
but not throbbing, just bad enough that I don't want to sit down; it only
worked in the tub because of the cool water. Walking outside with my drink
I have a cigarette still trying to figure out some fucking solution to my
troubles with Phil.  He can't be reasoned with though and he told me just
last week that Richard's rougher on him that he, Phil, is on me. In any
case he doesn't want to hear any whining from me.  They're animals, and
they deserve each other, but do I deserve this treatment for bumping
accidentally into Richard twice? I don't think so. Fucking animals.  I
don't even care that much about the humiliation Phil puts me through
because, like I said, no one ever witnesses it but him. As these thoughts
swish around in my brain I absently do one of my favorite things, which is
boy watching.  Evaluating one boy's looks as they walk past. It goes like
this: nothing special, nothing special, ugh!, nothing special, nice hair,
hot bod but goofy face, nothing special and then, yes very cute. Ha
ha. Dumping my empty bottle in a recycle bin I casually sauntered over to
get a better look at this one cute boy out of ten. I haven't seen him on
campus before.  Light brown hair, medium complexion, with big alert shining
blue eyes.  Jeez, nice body; my type too as he's skinny, wearing a tight,
sleeveless, T-shirt, laughing with an older version of himself.  Frowning,
I'm thinking, 'They can't be twins,' and then it's obvious; the super cute
boy is too young to be in college so he's got to be that other kid's little
brother visiting him at the University and that's cool.  The older kid puts
his arm around his younger brother's shoulder and off they go.  I think of
Joey, then feel all warm inside.  Never mind asshole Phil, I'll concentrate
on all the positive things that are happening in my life. I have to deal
with Phil about fifteen minutes a week, but that piece of shit has to be
with himself twenty-four hours a day every day of his miserable life.
Thinking about that made me feel better. Fuck you Phil, ya sick bastard.

Back in the laundromat I carefully fold Phil's clothing and then Richard's.
After going back over every piece to be sure none of Phil's is mixed in
with Richard's, I carried half of them upstairs and, without knocking, open
the door.  As soon as I turn the knob my heart starts pounding with fear,
apprehension, whatever.  I walk in and go directly to Phil's dresser and
put his regular clothes away and his new winter ones stacked neatly on his
bed.  Then, without a word, I go right back down to get Richard's clothes
and do the same with them.  One last look to see everything's correctly in
order, I go over to Phil's desk, pull down my jeans and underwear and lean
over with my chest flat against his desk top, my bare ass sticking out and
my dick and nuts shriveling up.  He looks up from his book from where he's
sitting in a big over-stuffed chair. Then sternly says, "Stay just like
that, pussy," and he goes over to verify I'd gotten everything put away
correctly.  I'm nervous as hell, sweat on my forehead, my breathing is
quick and my heart's beating too fast.  A couple minutes passes before Phil
slowly walks over and lightly rubs both my ass cheeks which makes them
sting again, but I don't utter a sound.  "Jesus, I got these butt cheeks
really nice bright cherry red," Phil mumbles to himself with a snicker.  He
smacks each cheek twice, very hard, and says, "Pull 'em up and get out of
here. Next week you better have a happy look on that girlie face of
yours. All ya gotta do is what you're told to do, for fuck sake. That
shouldn't be too hard even for a maggot like you." Jesus, those last smacks
start the hot burning stinging feeling all over again. My head down, making
sure not to have eye contact, I pull up my pants and scurry out the door
before even buttoning up the front of my jeans and I almost run into
Richard who's coming in.  He says, "Oh yeah, laundry day, Oliver. Phil
treating ya okay?"  I say, "Yes, it's laundry day.  How are you Richard?
Yes, Phil treats me fine."  He mumbles, "Whatever," and goes inside as I
hurry back to the laundromat to finish Joey's and my stuff, plus all our
towels.

Just knowing I won't have to see Phil for a whole week makes my eyes water
with glee. The treatment I get from Phil isn't right, fair, or in any way
justified, but it's over with for another week so I'm putting it out of my
mind completely. Next Tuesday I'll make sure I don't say anything unless
I'm spoken to and I'll make damn sure I have a pleasant expression on my
face so I can avoid the spanking.  And, oh yes, avoid eye contact with
Phil.  My eye contact really pisses him off. I go over these things a few
times in my head so they'd be fresh for next week, and then drop the topic
from my brain. It doesn't take long to finish up the rest of my laundry and
soon I'm outside in the beautiful, unseasonably warm sunny day with a
stinging red ass, but it's nice enjoying the sunshine while smoking another
cigarette. I'm not thinking about anything in particular when, from nowhere
tears burst out of my eyes and I start crying hard.  Dropping the cigarette
and covering my face with my hands I slump down on the grass leaning
against a huge oak tree.  No one seems to notice as my shoulders shake like
a six year old and I bawl uncontrollably. Of course this crying jag is
because of Phil's humiliating and painful treatment, but I'm shocked at the
severity of my emotional breakdown. The feeling of being powerless and of
being afraid, and I guess it's also disturbing to think that maybe I'm a
coward in the way I cower to him.  Oh hell, the injustice of the entire
laundry debacle overwhelms me and it's all so unfair and depressing that
this wild crying jag came out of nowhere to take me completely over.
Crying takes a tremendous amount of energy, particularly if you cry with
the intensity I'm experiencing.  Mostly it's over in less than five
minutes, but I'm exhausted from it just the same. Laying down completely on
the grass now, my hands over my eyes, I take deep breaths ignoring the
stinging on my ass and wipe my face and nose with the bottom part of my
T-shirt, then light another cigarette sitting up again. This is where
cigarettes come in handy, offering something to do to keep you occupied and
keep your mind numb. It's not as if this is the first time I've felt all
those kinds of negative emotions; I felt them from my first encounter with
Richard too.  Actually I've felt them before; I've experienced the same
type emotion with every bully who's bullied me throughout my entire life
and, ya know, there have been too goddamn many of them for it to be a
coincidence.  I'm doing something that attracts bullies, but what?

No answer comes to mind, but there has to be some reason other than just
bad luck. Getting on my feet, feeling ridiculous for crying like that, I'm
glancing around to see if anyone familiar has witnessed my breakdown and
realized how few people I actually know here at the University.  Who the
hell did I think I'd see who knows me?  My responsibilities in taking care
of Joey limit my opportunity to mingle with kids other than the gymnast,
and they're mostly interested in other gymnast. I'm just a necessary
temporary outsider as far as they're concerned, except maybe for Randy.
I'm down in the dumps again worrying that maybe I suffer from depression,
but I don't need to pick-up Joey for over an hour so, down in the dumps or
not, I'm determined not to waste this free time outside in the sun. What to
do though? Okay, I've got the time so I'll walk over to the Campus Mall
where I'd first saw Cristobal all those months ago.  Thinking of him makes
me daydream about my first gay kiss, my first dance with a boy, and my
first gay sex; all with Cristobal.  Somehow, if he were here everything
would be different. That's what I tell myself anyway, this is just
rationalizing though because why would it be better even if he were
here. Well, maybe I wouldn't have run into Richard for one thing, then I
notice there's only one street singer today and he's no Cristobal, that's
for sure; an overweight kid with a full beard and a flat voice. For some
reason the beard makes me think of my neighbor Edward, who fucked me when I
was a young teenager. That memory was buried in my subcounscious mind until
the trip to Seattle visiting Christian. Hmmm, so technically Christobal
wasn't my first gay sex, but I can't see how thinking along those lines
helps anything, so I decide to keep Cristobal as my official first
time. I'm in this weird frame of mind walking the street with all these
strangers around me, which just intensified my lonely feeling. I try doing
some boy watching, staring quickly at every face of interest, but don't see
a single one that qualifies as cute. Wandering to Cristobal's old dorm
thinking about how much nicer my dorm is then the one he had last
year. While this walk isn't improving my mood, on the positive side, my ass
is feeling a lot better.

It's just about time to pick-up Joey so I try getting myself fired up about
that, and maybe Randy and me actually becoming a couple too, but can't make
myself take that last part seriously. Thinking about Frankie and all the
issues he has with Darleen and with himself too, with his denial of his
true sexuality doesn't help. What future is there for me with Frankie, I
mean if I'm honest with myself?  And, Alexander has turned into a bit of a
dick, although a fun dick; good sex buddy anyway.  But no future for me
there either. And while the twins are adorable, get serious there no future
for me there either. Spunky, Myers, Pete are no, no and no, future wise
also.  Christian, of course is not as well. Maybe Daddy/Glen is my future,
wouldn't that be a hoot, or even more outlandish, I can have a future being
Phil's spanking sex doll. I'm getting silly now, so that encouraging; this
depressed mood is just a passing thing. Then I'm thinking: for fuck sake,
I'm only nineteen years old, I've got my whole life ahead of me to meet the
right guy to have a future with. My frame of mind had been excellent before
that animal Phil beat me up, so I tell myself, 'Think about the hot fun
things that have been going on in your life lately,' and just like that I
realize I've talked myself in a complete circle and I'm on my way back to
feeling upbeat again.  I hate being a pussy with all this whining and
feeling sorry for myself.  Enjoy yourself; that's my latest motto.  Hey,
that motto is really catchy and wicked original too. Enjoy yourself!
College is the best time in our lives, right? Feeling proud of myself for
working out of the funk so quickly, and by myself too. It use to be I'd run
to Christian with every problem that came up, but now I'm learning how to
deal with my problems myself.  Gee, I better be careful not to pull a
muscle patting myself on the back.  Checking my watch as I walk into the
gymnasium, I still have half an hour before practice is over, so I'll watch
some hot gymnastics till then.  Gymnast are amazing athletes.  Walking by
the equipment room on my way to the gym someone grabs me from behind and
pulls me inside. The special sexy odor of Randy Rider gives him away
though, not to mention his little chuckles as I stagger before falling
backward into his arms. Inside he says, "Hiya, Hottie.  We got ten minutes
to screw around if ya want to. Do ya?"  While turning around I go, "Hell
yeah!"  and we both go for each other's lips. Randy is definitely a
world-class make-out artist and his strong hands and arms are all over my
body giving me shivers and goose bumps and tiny electric shocks.  It seems
strange to say that I look up to Randy because he's actually four inches
shorter than me, but even so I always do feel like I am looking up to him.
He's kind of my idol I guess.

His wet sloppy kisses and the sucking on my lips and tongue gets me so
hard, so fast, it's scary and exciting; sort of like a thrill ride at an
amusement park.  Plus, the way he smells, his natural sexy odor augmented
by a hot sexy perspiration smell which threatens to override everything,
but adds to my attraction to him.  He's been practicing hard for two hours
and his whole body's sweaty-damp, but he has me swooning and moaning in
spite of it. Almost immediately Randy has his hand inside the back of my
jeans grabbing my bare ass.  Stinging ass or not, it's such a turn on for
having a guy's bare hand fondling my bare ass.  If it's Randy giving me
spanking, well, that just might be so hot I'd burst out in flames 'cause
Randy's another story entirely as I moan into his mouth and hump my hips
into his belly just above his crotch. He's in the process of giving me his
own quick version of a hickey, replacing Alexander's, when he pushes his
finger up inside me.  My hole burns initially as he finger fucks me with
little strokes, but then it gets slippery and feels good!  I mutter, "Do ya
think we have time for the real thing?" Randy goes, "Not this time, but
we'll make time soon."  Then he begins thrusting up my hole using his
middle finger and I go up on my toes with each thrust going, "Ahhh," with
each penetration.  My boner's dripping inside my pants pressed into Randy's
side. He finishes with the hickey and pulls his finger out of me to begin
massaging both my buttocks using his strong hands squeezing them almost too
hard, but not quite.  He's almost picking me off the floor pulling up on my
buttocks and there's an extra sexy something I'm sensing, maybe because
Randy has no idea I'd gotten that hard spanking a few hours ago and his
massaging my ass cheeks is actually hurting me, but because it's Randy
doing it I'm incredibly turned-on. Strange, but true.  His tongue goes back
in my mouth and I'm close to cuming as I hear myself making little
squealing noises and saying Randy's name. I feel like such a dork doing
that, but I can't stop. Soon I'm red faced, out of breath, and partially
hypnotized.  When he's satisfied he's gotten me as hot as I need to be, he
holds my head with a hand on either side of my face and looks me in the
eyes, saying, "I could eat you alive, you're so cute!  I know it's my turn
to do you, but I want you to suck me off real quick right now and then I'll
owe you two."  The shit smell from his middle finger is close to my nose as
he speaks, but I numbly nod my head and get down on my knees in front of
him.

Same deal as last time, only quicker.  Randy's much sweatier this time too,
but I swear I don't mind. I'm flattered he wants me sucking him off and I'm
so hot and horny from all his attention it's surreal. This time while
rimming him I try impressing him by getting the tip of my tongue inside his
hole and I think I have some success.  He's saying "Oh yeah, Oliver, push
harder, oh yeah." It's a little gross down here at first, but it's Randy so
I don't mind.  I lap his sweat soaked jock strap for a bit, but Randy's
short on time so he takes his jock off fairly quickly and presses my face
into his sweaty crotch.  His cock's very hard, sticking straight up his
belly, drooling precum. It presses against my forehead and his balls hang
underneath my chin, that's how he has my face pressed against his crotch. I
never stop licking and lapping for a second, my tongue's aching from the
effort but I keep at it with Randy encouraging me to keep it up, "You're
doing great Oliver, oh yeah. Lick more there, more Oliver, use longer
laps." My tongue is licking his crotch clean and before I know it Randy's
deep throating me again. He manipulates my head in his strong hands and
really goes at fucking my mouth and throat with his long fat boner going
down my throat further than it did the first time and me gagging with every
thrust.  For me it's truly awesome to be sexually dominated so fully and my
balls tighten up against my belly so I undo the front of my pants to get at
my cock.  Almost immediately those hard nuts send my spunk flying up and
out of my boner. I'd only stroked it three times and the head of my cock
burns as the cum flies out.  Actually I would have climaxed without
touching it at all except the urge was strong and made me grab it and
stroke it. Randy got me so sexually alive I feel on fire with my whole body
vibrating.

I'm finished climaxing completely before he even begins, and then does he
ever have a big explosion of cum up and out of those big balls of his. Lots
and lots of creamy spunk down my throat, in my mouth, and on my face and
neck when he pulls his cock from my mouth and strokes it.  It's too much
too fast down my throat and I hiccup cum up my sinuses and some spurts out
my nose where it drools around the outside of my mouth with me catching
some on my tongue.  After blasting his major load in my throat and mouth
he'd done the same as last time; like I said, he pulls his cock out of my
mouth and jerks it off in a frenzy and gets more spunk that lands on
me. When the spunking's over he smears cum around my face and up into my
hair with his cock moving his cum around.  I think he just wanted something
to rub his sensitive cock against and my face was handy. Randy's making
snorting noises as he continues rubbing his free hand on the back of my
head pulling my short hair in the process.  I just stay here on my knees
coming down off my high thinking Randy's the hottest, coolest thing
ever. In a fog I notice my own cum shots had miraculously gone through the
narrow opening between Randy's legs.  "Get up Oliver, and let me clean you
up some. Come on, get up." When I stand, he smirks and says, "You like a
tight hand, don't ya?" Randy sounds out of breath as he talks while pulling
up his pants. I'm not sure what he means by a tight hand, but I do what he
says and I'm standing up. He takes a small sweaty towel that's hanging out
the back pocket of his gym shorts and wipes his own sweaty face with it
first, then reaching up he uses it to try wiping the cum off my face. After
each swipe of the towel he'd spit on it trying to get it wet and then more
wipes on my face. His spit smells real nice. Randy doing this reminds me of
when I cleaned Spunky's lipstick off using my spit as a cleaning fluid just
like Randy's doing with me.  I try to stand just as still for Randy as
Spunky did for me. Lastly Randy cups the back of my head with his left hand
and holding that funky smelling towel against my nose with his other hand,
he says, "Blow hard Oliver, you've got some of my cum up your nose".  He
makes me blow hard three times before he's satisfied. All the time he's
cleaning my face, he whines about how much he misses his boyfriend and
then, changing topics, he goes into how much it meant to him that I was
helping him relieve his pent-up sexual desires and all kinds of stuff like
that.  He's nice, and very grateful. "You're helping me get through this
break-up, Oliver. Now I owe you two blow jobs, but I needed this so badly.
I'm having a hard time getting over him."  Then he pulls me to him and hugs
me hard. "Thank you, Oliver. "  He looks at me then, with a puzzled look on
his face and adds, "Thanks, but you liked it even more than me.  Didn't
ya?" I just smile because how do I know how much he liked it?  Randy shakes
his head a little like maybe he just discovered something and then tells me
to open my mouth.  When I do he puts his finger in, the one he had up my
hole and he tells be to suck it clean.  Yuck, what an acrid taste. Thirty
seconds of sucking his finger and the taste miraculously is gone. Randy
pulls it out and rubs it up the front of my nose with some of my spit going
up my nostrils, as he asks, "Smell okay?"  I nod my head, in my usual
trance, and Randy smiles, saying, "I'm a little fucked-up about Danny at
the moment, but I've got some ideas for you that you'll love.  Right now
though, I gotta go," and he sprints out the door to get to wherever it is
he needs to be. Standing here in my trance-like state of mind, absently
wiping the palm of my hand over my face making sure Randy hadn't missed any
of his cum, I finally detect some cum shot in my hair which I mess around
with and then flattened the messed-up hairs against my scalp.


Wow, talk about the unexpected!  I already said surreal and that's what it
was alright. Peeking out the door and not seeing anyone, I slip out of the
equipment room trying to act casual.  Holy shit, that's the perfect storm
Randy and I just experienced. With fantasy thoughts of me and Randy
spending a night together in bed sometime, I look for Joey. Spending a
night in bed with Randy can't happen until Joey is able to take care of
himself.  You know, when he can be on his own for the night. Then I think,
'Whoa Oliver, you're getting way ahead of yourself now, and you need to
calm down'.  Randy is so sexy he's getting me all worked up fantasizing
stuff for the two of us to do together. He was nice too, apologizing and
fussing over me trying to clean my face while thanking me for helping him
get over his lost love with his ex-boyfriend. Well, I guess he never
mentioned love, but the poor guy's hurting, I didn't known what to say to
make him feel better.  It was awkward listening to him confess how broken
up he is over being dumped.  Randy wears his heart on his sleeve it. I
gotta admit, I'd sure like to meet this ex-boyfriend of Randy's!  If he
dumped Randy, he must be some kind of awesome hot dude himself.  Maybe not
though, Randy may be in crazy about him for other reasons. Whatever the
reason, he said he's missing his boyfriend. Probably he means he misses him
sex-wise and that's all.  I do not want to get involved in their breakup,
and I don't think I am, except is Randy's involvement with me what they
mean when they say, 'catching someone on the rebound'? None of these
concerns require action of any kind at the moment, it's more along the
lines of being aware of the possibilities. Randy and I could turn be a good
thing or not so good, but for now it's hot fun.  Fifteen minutes later I
round-up Joey and off we go to the dorm to drop off my backpack, and then
to the dining hall.  He's in a good mood and that helps me stay upbeat too.
My mind keeps drifting to that last quickie with Randy and the way he's
acting more and more bossy each time we get together; bossy, but he's nice
too. Thinking about that gives me a semi-boner which I have through most of
my dinner as I think about the submissive thing I have for sexy guys. I
like bossy, and I think I first noticed in on the boardwalk when cool Mike
Sullivan dominated me, but without sex. Man, there's a fun fantasy right
there. Mike would be a hell of a dominant sex partner.  I'm letting my
imagination run away with me, but wouldn't it be hot if Mike's cute friend
Richie were gay. Jeez, haha... I'd like to make it a threesome
haha. Unfortunately reality doesn't work that perfectly. Sigh....

to be continued...

chapter 18 (Joey's surprise) Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com

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