Date: Fri, 8 Jan 2010 14:01:02 -0800 (PST)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: GEOFF'S POINT OF VIEW  - chapter 4   by Donny Mumford

A very nice guy (Rob) has edited my last couple of chapters for me so when
you notice the improved grammar and punctuation etc you can rest assure
that I haven't gotten any smarter, it's just that I've received the great
help of an editor.  Thank you, Rob!


			  GEOFF'S  POINT OF VIEW

		     chapter 4      by Donny  Mumford

The alarm sounds on my bedside table so I sleepily open one eye to see the
time; hmmm, it's too late to be a school day so this must be Saturday, a
work day. Consciousness rushes in and I lay there in bed rewinding the
events of Friday afternoon with Bruce; then fast forward it in my head
recalling the highlights and oh my God did we ever have a scalding hot sexy
time. The memories are so hot I run my tongue around my lips and pull on my
semi-hard dick a few times. A thought of doing a nice jerk-off flashes
through my head; then quickly back to reminiscing about yesterday. Of all
the different aspects of that sexy afternoon, my favorite was fucking Bruce
as he hung from his wrists in the doorway, me stationary behind him
manipulating his body forward and back, my boner sliding up inside him then
back out until the swollen head of my cock catches at his tightened
sphincter muscle. What a rush of sensations!  My climax had been out of
this world too, cum gushing out of Bruce's asshole as fast as I was pumping
it in.  Grunting now, then adjusting my cock, I recalled the sexy odor
coming off his body as he helplessly swung back and forth moaning and
begging me to stroke his cock for him. That little cock as hard as a steel
spike, sticking straight out from his shaved crotch, dripping clear precum,
drip drip drip. And his sexy legs, and those stinky feet of his; stinky in
the most erotic way imaginable! That's the hottest sex I've ever been a
part of; it makes my heterosexual experiences seem like child's play. Ya
gotta love Bruce's leather toys and his fetishes; jeez, what a hot
combination!

Then I remember my bud Dajuan's problem. He's out of commission with food
poisoning this weekend, the poor bastard.  On top of that Bruce is going to
be busy tonight with a family dinner, somebody's birthday or
something. Damn, I'm abandoned on a Saturday night, what a bummer! But
wait, I almost forgot I have a so-called "date" with Garrett tonight.  Ha,
it makes me smile remembering his call yesterday, complaining that it's
unfair of me to date his sister instead of him. That boy doesn't seem to
mind groveling, no pretenses with Garrett.  Just when I thought I'd have
nothing to do Saturday night, Garrett, of all people, pops-up to save the
day. Going out with him might be a lot of fun although I haven't yet given
much thought as to where we'll go or what we'll do.  Sighing deeply,
resigned that I don't have enough time to enjoy a leisurely whack-off, I
slip out of bed and pad down the hall in bare feet to do my daily ritual in
the hall bath. My grandparents won't be up for another hour so I have this
precious little bit of time to myself in the bathroom, no one rapping on
the door to hurry me up. Man, I'm jealous of Dajuan and Bruce because they
both have their own private bathroom... life ain't fair!

In the shower I think about Bruce and me at the movies last night and how
strange it was that both of us were laughing, eating popcorn, and chatting
like two normal friends when just a couple of hours earlier we'd been naked
and wildly into our fetish-induced sex play; it's as if we existed in two
different worlds. Bruce, however, tends to overlap the two worlds by being
deferential to me in all matters and repeatedly bumping into me on purpose
to whisper how much he loves me.  It's obvious Bruce enjoys the casual
physical contact with me and I should be flattered except I'm not in love
with him so it can be awkward at times. I almost wish I was in love so I
could return his affection instead of losing my temper and snapping at him,
but what the hell, you can't force yourself to love someone. Actually, his
fawning behavior used to annoy me a lot more than it does now because he's
such a good kid and I do like him a lot. And boy, he's funny with that
self-described "toxic outlaw" routine of his when he's nothing of the
sort. He's got that nutty idea in his head because of two incidents that
happened around the same time last year.  Both incidents involved driving
and police intervention; when mixed together they're two combustible
ingredients for sure. They also represent the total extent of Bruce's
so-called outlaw activities. He's been dressing himself mostly in black
since then and tries to act tough with everyone except me and Dajuan; Bruce
likes games. The two of us know he's a sweetheart and so do most of the
other kids in school, but Bruce chooses to see it differently.

Anyway, I'm cleaned-up and dressed and ready to face the world so it's off
to work I go driving my grandparents' old Chevy. They won't need their car
today, but they might need it tonight so Garrett's borrowing his mother's
car for us to use on our date. He'll pick me up at seven, then I don't know
what we're going to do. Who the hell knows what to expect with Garrett;
he's already admitted he's queer for me and then there's that time we
made-out and he creamed in his jeans; a random act to say the least. Those
things were basically unexpected but now that I know how hot Garrett is for
me, I gotta believe we'll be involved in some sexual endeavor before the
night is over. He's wicked cute and his sister is too, but still it feels a
little weird to be dating a brother and sister. My goal is to fuck both of
them of course and unless I've read Garrett totally wrong it'll be him who
gets fucked first, meaning tonight.

Pulling into Starbucks' parking lot I see the line of customers stretching
to the door; nothing unusual there. I'm on second shift today; first shift
begins at five-thirty in the morning getting things set-up to open the
doors at six.  This month I'm working nine till five. The best thing about
my current shift is T.J. Jersey who's the assistant manager. That's his
name, T.J., but I call him Tom because that's what he told me to call
him. There's a chance he's bi, but probably he's straight. It's more likely
Tom just has fun being a cock teaser to the boys he thinks might be gay or
bi, and there are a few of us working here. If he were to ever make a
serious play for me though, he could easily have me. Ha ha! No really, he's
cool and I'm crushing on him a little. I'm just not sure where he's coming
from so I keep the crushing to myself and maintain my aloof tough-guy
attitude with him as much as I can. That's the attitude I adopt whenever
I'm not sure how I should respond in a situation.  Mostly Tom seems amused
by my aggressive posture; come to think of it he's amused by just about
everything. He's wicked good looking and the girls on my shift are hot for
him too; he flirts right back at them as well.

Parked and looking in the rear view mirror, I re-comb by hair combing it up
in front then down on top.  Damn, I wish I'd gotten a haircut after school
like Bruce and I were gonna do yesterday. The haircuts were abandoned
because Dajuan got sick which meant Bruce and I had a rare afternoon to
ourselves; the idea of doing some sex together easily won-out over
haircuts, no contest there. Yeah, but I still wish we could have fit in the
haircuts; I like to look good for Tom although I guess it's kind of stupid
because he's never once commented on my hair. I can be a bit of a goof
around him for some reason.  As soon as I walk through the door Tom comes
right over to say good morning and, as usual, he gooses my ass and I give
him a grouchy frown in return. His goose is a full-hand goose that lasts a
couple of seconds and gets my dick squirming in my pants. The goose, by the
way, is the reason I think he may be at least bi. Unfortunately that's it,
just one goose a day isn't much to base assumptions about his sexual
orientation on, but it is something.  He's twenty-one years old but looks
younger than that by a few years. The first time I met him I thought he was
a new kid just starting with Starbucks like me and then I find out he's my
boss! He's also a college senior at Framingham State. Nice looking white
kid; very nice looking actually, but the oddest thing happens when he
smiles... it fucks-up his looks. It's rare that a smile screws-up a guy's
looks but it most definitely does in Tom's case; makes him look
retarded. It's disturbing how this good looking kid's appearance can
radically change to a totally doofus-look when he smiles. This morning,
after goosing me, he pulls me by the arm into the corner of the back wall,
behind the coffee machines display. There's this small alcove back there
that's hidden from the view of anyone else in the store. Back here he
ironically says I need to smile more. I give him a stern look and he begins
whispering"dumb blond" jokes to me, his lips brushing my ear as he's
quietly telling the jokes, laughing and smiling his dorky smile as he
talks. The jokes go like this:

"A dumb blond lost a breast stroke swimming competition only to learn later
that the other swimmers cheated by using their arms and legs during the
race."

"That same dumb blond was heard confidently insisting... 'Capital of
California is C!  Right?"'

"She got mad because she made a mistake with dinner. She cooked her
Thanksgiving turkey for 2 and 1/2 days... instructions said one-half hour
per pound and she weighs 108 pounds. To further irritate her, the next day
she had to return a newly purchased scarf because it was too tight on her
neck."

"Later in the week she got very excited.  She'd finally finished her jigsaw
puzzle, it took her only 6 months when right there on the front of the box
it said '2 to 4 years"'. Ha, ha!

Being careful not to look at Tom's face while he's laughing, I do some
begrudging chuckles; but mostly I'm just taking advantage of the
opportunity to lean against his slim body. The jokes aren't all that funny;
it's Tom's contagious laughter that gets me to laugh a little. Plus, while
I'm leaning into him my arm accidentally-on-purpose goes around his neck;
he's another one of those boys who smells good so I like to get as tight
with him as I can. Tom gets his arm around my waist and we sort of
wrestle-dance together which he thinks is a riot. As for me, I've got a
boner in my pants that won't quit. In my straight days I never got these
frequent boners that I do nowadays.  Now, boys seem sexier to me, so I
spring boners much quicker than I did with the girls. Anyway, Tom and I
untangle, he pats me on the back and then rubs my shoulders saying
something really unusual before sending me off to get ready for work.  What
he said was, "I can see the true you when you're laughing." That's an odd
thing to say and I can't even guess what he meant by it.  On my way to the
storage room door I'm watching him for a quick second as he begins to check
register receipts, his face back to its normal calm, handsome look. I
think, "He looks like Brandon Flowers." Brandon is the lead singer for the
rock group The Killers, in case ya don't know.  Staring at him, I felt the
usual attraction I always feel when I see him, but more than that I thought
how hot it would be to dominate him sexually, or the other way around
maybe. Surprisingly, lately I've been fantasizing about me being dominated
by Tom and I never thought I'd go for that. Adjusting my crotch I walk into
the back room to put on my green apron and begin my shift.

For a few weeks now I've had vivid fantasies involving Tom. As a matter of
fact, I dreamed about parts of my latest fantasy last night. Dreams are
funny, they often hide from you until some little thing jars the memory of
it into your consciousness. I like tall guys and Tom's a little taller than
me so that makes him at least six feet tall. He's slender with wide
shoulders, and long legs, a great bubble butt ass too; in other words, he's
got just about my favorite idea of a boy's perfect body. Unfortunately I've
never seen his dick but I'm betting, based on his long feet, that it's
about eight inches.  Now here's the odd part: my dream fantasy had me, not
Tom, swinging from the wrist restraints! And yep, Tom was fucking me like I
fucked Bruce yesterday afternoon, fucking me with that eight inch boner of
his; in my dream it felt real good.  It's odd to dream something like that
because I swore to myself no one would ever put me in the female role when
it comes to gay sex, no way. I'm not sucking cock and I'm not getting
fucked, but from last night's dream, apparently, I've changed my mind about
part of that. I've had a few other fantasies about Tom and now, sitting
down on a carton of Starbucks napkins, I make up a new fantasy on the spur
of the moment. It has Tom wearing Bruce's wrist and ankle restraints, his
legs spread wide with the thirty-inch metal spreader bar. The picture of
him straining to stand steady is so real in my head. Naturally, I'll want
to spank his ass so why not use the strap that Dajuan likes me to use on
him.  It probably hurts like hell getting spanked like that so I fantasize
Tom crying like a big baby and begging me to stop with every thwack across
his bare ass. Hee hee, I'm groping myself seeing that picture in my
mind. It's an especially cool fantasy because dominating someone bigger and
older than me is an extra erotic turn-on for me.

Fantasies are fun but I got to get to work here. Standing up to tie the
green apron around my waist, then groping my pecker again, I had another
vision. In this picture Tom, totally naked, is bending forward so that I'm
able to attach his wrist restraints to his ankle ones.  Oh God, I gotta try
that with Bruce! Grabbing Tom's hips, I ram my hard, six-inch cock up his
spanked, red ass.  His moans of pain turn to pleasure as his ass juices and
my precum ease my cock's sliding to and fro in his tight, tight hole.  In
my fantasy he has a hairless ass but in reality Tom's got hairy legs, so in
real life he probably has hair on his ass too, which simply won't do.  I
can do anything I want in my fantasy so I've already ordered him to keep
his legs and ass shaved, like I shaved Bruce's pubic hairs yesterday. Boy
oh boy, I'd love to fuck Tom and just maybe I'd love him to fuck me
too. That's such a new concept it's hard for me to believe I actually
dreamed it.
 Mmmm, sooo hot!  Then I hear Tom calling me for real. Oops, I've been
daydreaming back here again.  Flying out of the back room I mumble
something about a broken shoelace.  My job this morning is to relieve the
girl on register one; the register that's next to the plate glass window
overlooking the patio area where we have a half dozen tables with chairs
for those who want to drink their beverage in the sunshine.

It's a busy place throughout the day which helps the time pass
quickly. I've learned something here; dealing with the public can be
problematic. For example, two weeks ago an old bag lady, maybe homeless or
maybe just drunk, came in and drank milk straight from the thermos
containers. Our jaws dropped at the unexpectedness of it; the atrociousness
of it.  The manager, Ty Burton, was stocking bags of coffee beans not far
from her but before he could get to her she was out the door with fistfuls
of sugar packets, her bristly gray mustache white with milk, yuck!
Naturally, the customers didn't want to use any of the thermos containers
because it wasn't clear which one she'd drank from, so I had to replace
them all; what a pain in the ass.  A few weeks before that, prior to my
shift, a drunken man came into the restaurant and used the unisex
bathroom. One of the baristas was suspicious so she went in to check the
bathroom after the man had left and found he had pooped in the sink. Many
bizarre stories, though happily most of the customers know where to poop!
When I heard the poop story, I suggested to Tom that we put a hand soap
dispenser down low on the wall for those who want to wash their hands in
the toilet. Tom got to laughing at that and it earned me a second goose
that day.

In my opinion the majority of our customers seem to be concerned with life
style issues, they think of themselves as trend-setters.  They're in love
with the concept of custom blended beverages and are, for the most part,
totally price indifferent.  I mean, five to ten dollars for a coffee drink
or hot chocolate? Come on! These people pay the price because they like
being seen in Starbucks; they like the social experience of sitting there
with their laptops. It appears to be a cross cultural thing and many of
them have an intentionally pompous way of placing their drink orders.
"Venti white mocha with exactly ten ice cubes, please," "Venti chocolate
cream frappuccino with three pumps of mocha and one pump of vanilla, twice
blended with no whip cream," or "Venti soy, triple shot latte, no foam, and
double cupped, if you don't mind."  It's an effort at times to keep myself
from saying "OK, that'll be seven dollars, you pompous asshole." Except I
make eight dollars and twenty-five cents an hour plus an average of two
more dollars per hour when the tips are split-up among all the
employees. So, with a smile, I grin and bear it, "Have a nice day!" or
"What can I get for you this fine morning?" You know, play the game I'm
getting paid to play; it's the smart thing to do.  Ironically, I can't
stand Starbucks' coffee; even the mildest roast is too bitter and strong
tasting for me. How the company managed to get this snooty niche in the
coffee market is beyond me, but I've got a pretty good job here and I'm
intent on not screwing it up. I need it until I graduate high school and
join the Army; and what the hell, Tom makes the job interesting too. I
can't imagine him being submissive, but still it's fun fantasizing him
being that way... oh boy, what would I give to spank his cute ass.

Today the barista is Eric Solarie, who's an obviously gay nineteen year old
boy. In addition to not being good looking, he has lots of facial
piercings, quite a few stud earrings, and he wears many bracelets that he
has a habit of playing with in between every other thing he does. He'll
pour some cream in a cup and then roll his wrist to jiggle the bracelets,
then add a pump of mocha after which he'll lift his arm so his bracelets
clash together, then add some coffee and again with those fucking
bracelets, and so forth... it's his thang.  He also has a movement thing
with his head that says, "I'm gay in case you haven't noticed," and he
wears wild clothes from second hand shops to go with his long, dyed red
hair. But get this, Starbucks is an inclusive company and since Eric is a
friendly, smiley, and efficient barista who's considered a valued employee;
the rest of that stuff doesn't matter.  And, that's a very good thing about
this company in my opinion.  I like Eric but haven't confided in him that
I'm bi and the truth is I'd never have a boyfriend like Eric, he's too
flamboyant.  It's my firm belief that if a guy is cute or nice looking he
shouldn't have any visible body piercings, they just detract from his
natural perfection. The exception to that being small hoop earrings in the
ear lobes, which are cool. Now, on the other hand, if a guy isn't cute at
all and has very little going for him in the looks department he should get
all the piercing he can afford; they'll attract attention away from his
sub-par looks and this philosophy is obviously being adhered to by
Eric. Naturally this is just my opinion, everyone's entitled to theirs.

Once I discovered my gay side, one of the best things about this job became
the sight-seeing possibilities. There's a parade of exotic people coming
through Starbucks everyday; naturally most of them are regular adult
customers, none of whom interest me at all. There's also the newbies
parading by too, and I'm talking about newbie guys around my age; they're
the ones who interest me. Occasionally a hot chick will get my attention
but since my transfer to Dover/Sherborn High, I've given up on dating girls
in favor of boys and consequently the boys have been getting most of my
attention lately.  Hey, maybe Garrett's sister will change me around again,
we'll see; but for now it's the boys.

Boy watching is fun but it can also be frustrating because of how rare the
special looking boys are. I'm always looking for them in the line of
customers as they slowly order their custom made beverages, shuffling past
me hour after hour. In case you didn't know, we aren't known for speed
here; mostly just friendly, chatty service.  From all the customers I'll
see in a day, maybe three or four boys will be really interesting
looking. Ya never know when one will appear, they're mixed-in with the
ordinary looking ones and the equally rare ones who are so bad looking
they're in the "avert-your-eyes" category.  Now, to be clear about this,
while it's quite true that only about one in twenty-five or so are special,
I can find something cute or sexy about almost every boy in my age
group. That is, except for the fatties and the rare, hideous ones. I've
become an expert admirer of boys, you might say. It's fascinating the
numbers of attractive features boys possess; I never realized this fact
until I opened my eyes as a bi boy and recognized all the eye candy
available for those of us attuned to appreciating it. One of my favorite
varieties is the tallish slim boy with long legs and nicely defined
buttocks.  Ideally he should have a baby face; one on which he's reflecting
a sullen, pissed-off expression which is so typically boyish and
appealingly cute.  His face most likely will have a pale complexion, fine
eyebrows, and dark brown eyes with light blond hair, cut short. Puffy
bow-shaped dark pink pouty lips and a shy attitude reflected in his body
language. I see one of these exotic creatures maybe once a week and it
really makes my day. I like the slim Hispanic boys too, the ones with that
beautiful flawless tan complexion, rosy lips, dark eyes and hair, the hair
cut short with an outline shaved-in with a straight razor across the
forehead, down the sides and around the back. They usually strut arrogantly
with their pants pulled half-way down their butt showing the top of their
underwear; that's so hot.

Coincidentally I just served one of these special boys a few minutes ago;
not one like I've just described, but interesting enough in his own
right. He's outside at one of the tables on the other side of the plate
glass window next to the register I'm working at. This boy's got the "black
Irish" look going for him; a whitish-pale complexion, dark blue eyes and
very dark hair combed straight back from his forehead, his hair cut short
on the sides.  Nearly perfect facial features with the usual serious
expression, as if he's working out an important problem. He's with a girl
who resembles him so it's probably his sister although he's the much better
looking of the two. This boy's slightly taller than me, slim to almost
skinny. I'd guess he's about sixteen years old. He has that same pale tight
skin on his long fingered, narrow hand and I stared at it when he paid for
his drink. I clumsily touched his fingers for a fraction of a second longer
than necessary when giving him his change and his eyes raised to mine for
fleeting eye contact; it was an awesome moment. Yeah, it happened just a
few minutes ago when I looked up and there he was. To start with I'd given
him my best smile and after a quick grin, he'd politely ordered a venti
bold with a shot of espresso which he's now drinking while smoking a
cigarette outside reading the Herald's sports page. He's sitting up
straight with his legs crossed in that way where the back of one knee is
across the top of his other knee. Not crossed at mid-calf like you normally
see a guy cross his legs.  Neither he nor his sister are talking, just
sitting there drinking their overpriced coffees, cigarette smoke drifting
from their nose and mouth in between swallows. He just glanced up at me
through the window and our eyes met again for a second or two, the tip of
his pink tongue ran around his lips as he grinned at me and then shyly
looked down. Good God! I groped myself and continued staring at him,
wishing I knew him. Then, in front of me, an adult customer wearing a
fedora made a fake coughing sound to get my attention. That was
embarrassing, but the boy outside is so exotically exciting to me I didn't
mind getting caught staring at him. The boy has style and confidence;
things I wish I had, but don't.  What I have is fake bravado and a nervous
stomach worried about the next fight I might need to be in to protect that
image. I'm planning on changing my attitude after graduating high school,
and it's probably a damn good thing too since I'm joining the Army National
Guard and they probably don't appreciate recruits with attitudes.

Driving home after work I've got all the car's windows down enjoying the
unseasonably beautiful weather; especially beautiful for an early May
afternoon in New England. The nice weather makes me think "baseball". The
Red Sox just happen to be playing against the Blue Jays tonight so I've
decided that's what Garrett and I will do.  That's what we'll do for the
early part of the night, that is; later on he'll obviously be looking for
some domination from me, along with some sex no doubt. I'll need to service
that of course, but first a relaxing baseball game. Jeez, putting it that
way makes it sound like it's a chore for me to do some sex on Garrett's ass
which is definitely not the way I feel. Garrett's eatable for Christ sakes,
sex with him will be a blast. I'm just saying that sex will be number one
on his mind, that's all. What the hell, after the game I'll give him a good
spanking and a good fucking and then he'll be following me around like
Bruce does, but who's complaining? Certainly not me. Let's see, we'll need
to score some bleacher seats from scalpers outside Fenway Park, not that
that's a problem.  Garrett will have money on him so I'll get him to spring
for the seats; even for bleacher seats the fucking scalpers will want fifty
bucks a ticket. Hmmm, we'll wait until just before game time when those
blood-suckers start worrying about getting stuck holding tickets and then
we'll get the best price... I'm terrible at bargaining with those guys
though... oh, never mind that now. Okay, I've got our night figured out so
that's cool.

At home my grandparents have our Saturday night dinner of pizza and salad
already on the table so I eat with them telling them about my day in
between bites of pizza.  They're always interested in what's going on in my
life, which is nice. Gramps was especially interested that I'd be seeing
the Red Sox at Fenway tonight. He goes, "You and I should go to a game,
Geoffrey. How would ya like that?" Apparently he doesn't know that every
game's sold out for the entire season and scalper tickets are priced way
too high for him, but I say, "That would be great, I'd love it!" and we
talked about that although I know it isn't going to happen. Hey, but what
if I can somehow get the tickets for us and surprise him.  I really want to
do that; I gotta think of a way to make it happen. That got me wondering
just how old my grandparents are; I know my mother's forty-something.
Well, gramps is collecting Social Security so he must be wicked old. He's
very nice though; always cheerful and looking at things positively which
has to be hard considering my mother is a huge disappointment. It must
really hurt that their daughter is so fucked-up; it hurts me, I can tell ya
that much. She has an addictive personality I guess, and once she got
hooked on booze she wasn't able to get unhooked. They don't mention her to
me and I'm not sure I should ask, but I'd like to know if she's getting any
better. It's depressing thinking about it and, as with many things in life,
I feel totally helpless with this situation. Well, in a few weeks I'll be
in the Army National Guard earning money for college. I'm determined not to
be a huge disappointment to anyone.  After my six months active duty I'll
still have six years of monthly weekend meetings and, in addition, two
weeks each summer of active duty.  It's a lot, but I'll be going to college
while working a job at the same time and I'll be financially able to take
care of my mother and my grandparents if I need to; well, that's my plan
anyway.  My plan doesn't include telling them I'm bisexual though, it would
just confuse the issue and it's basically not important that they know
anyway.

After a shower I hurriedly get dressed and I'm outside smoking a cigarette
when a new blue Volvo convertible comes cruising down the street with
Garrett driving it. Unexpectedly I get a twitch in my dick seeing
Garrett. Surprising to discover I was anxious to see him. Huh? I don't know
where that came from; he's got the hots for me, not the other way
around. Telling myself to get a grip, I adopt a smug look and give Garrett
a casual wave then flick my cigarette butt into the street and get in the
car saying, "Hey, 'sup, Garrett? Nice ride, dude!" He looks brand new
himself, shiny new; he's a million dollar baby-faced rich kid. Bright
smile, his face clean enough to eat off of, his big blue eyes behind his
John Lennon glasses looking bluer than blue, he's sporting a crisp haircut
in the same style as mine and altogether he looked like the perfect
teenager. To be honest though, he doesn't look old enough to be driving a
car.  He gives me an excited, "Hi Geoff, isn't this great? You and me on a
date! When I told Patty, she laughed and said she knew I'd get to you
before she did." That was an odd comment.  I asked, "Ah, Garrett... does
she, I mean, does your family know, you know... that you're, ah, gay?"  He
says, "Sure, I told them two years ago." I'm like astonished... what the
fuck? I go, "You mean your sister knows you're gay and knows you and me are
hooking up tonight? What the fuck's going on?" I was pissed off. We're
still sitting at the curb; I grab his arm and snarl at him, "This makes me
look like an asshole. Me not knowing that your sister knows you're gay, and
then when she said to me that you'd be soooo jealous she meant because
I'm... or that you're..."  I was flustered; Garrett stared at me trying in
his normal sincere manner to comprehend my concern.  He's too polite to
interrupt, but when I sputtered to a stop he calmly says, "I'm sorry if I
misled you, Geoff; I didn't mean to.  Patty knows I'm gay but she doesn't
know you're bi, that's personal and I wouldn't reveal a confidence like
that. Just because I'm gay doesn't mean everyone I hook-up with is gay
too... ya know? Don't be mad, Geoff. Okay?"

Now I'm staring at him, he's so delicious and so consistently nice about
everything, and furthermore he also happens to be right about this. Almost
everyone Garrett knows is straight because almost ninety percent of
everyone in the world is straight, and for all I know everyone he hangs
with is straight, well, except me.  He told me he's never had gay sex and I
believe him; I can't imagine him lying.  Just because a guy happens to be
gay doesn't mean he's having gay sex around the clock, like I seem to be
attempting to do.  I say, "Oh... Okay then, never mind. I thought, you know
... oh, just forget about it!"  I waved my hand at him like the topic is
over and then announce, "We're going to the Red Sox game tonight, do you
know how to get to Fenway Park? Get on the Mass Pike for starters..."
Garrett holds up his hand like he's in class, so I stop talking and make a
face like "you gotta be shitting me with the hand thing..." and he says,
"Excuse me Geoff, but we're not going to Fenway tonight; although I do know
how to get there. I was there Monday night with my dad as a matter of
fact. Tonight you and I are going to the Charles Playhouse to see Blue Man
Group.  I got us seats in the poncho section, row two, center aisle.  It'll
be so cool!  Have you seen them yet?" Garrett's pulling away from the curb
now and stepping on the gas; he's an aggressive driver so I put on my seat
belt thinking "Did he just take charge here, or what?" I find myself
shaking my head "no" to his question about me seeing Blue Man Group as I'm
mumbling "Ah, Blue Man Group? Nah. Never seen 'em." It's eerie the way he
brushed away what I'd said about the Red Sox, I'm used to Garrett doing
what I say, not contradicting me.  On the other hand I'd love to see that
show even though I don't get what he means by the "poncho section".  The
second-row rocks though. Garrett, acting surprised, says "You haven't?
You've never seen them? Wow, you're in for a treat then. This show is so
much fun! This will be my sixth time seeing it, they change the shows once
in a while so it's not like I've seen the exact same show six times."  He's
babbling excitedly like he does at times, but with more self-confidence
than I'm used to seeing from him.  It's probably because he's driving his
car, and he's the one who bought the tickets, and he knows where the
Charles Playhouse is, and stuff like that.

It's weird but I feel kind of relaxed not needing to manage our night right
now. If we were going to the Red Sox game I'd need to decide everything and
it gets to be a pain in the ass. I'll let Garrett decide about the show and
afterward I'll take over and reassert my dominance over him.  Maybe get a
little rough with him initially to be sure he doesn't over-reach, he's
submissive and might pull a muscle if he tries to be too confident! That
little joke I told myself made me feel better about things; also the
knowledge that Garrett's going to be looking for me to take the lead in the
sexual part of this so-called date gave more normalcy to the situation.
Garrett was chatty as usual, he's telling me what to expect at the show. He
talked on and on as he drove us expertly through Boston to a parking lot
close to the Charles Playhouse, which I couldn't have found if I looked for
it all night.  It's tucked away, hidden by a smallish theater which
actually turns out to be the Charles Playhouse. This is the first theater,
other than a movie theater, I've ever been in. It's odd, but seeing the
darkened stage set-up with mysterious stuff and knowing live people will
soon be on that stage entertaining us, well it's all quite exciting
somehow. The buzz from the people already seated and the snooty feeling of
walking all the way down to the second row, past all the people sitting
further back, and we're right in front of the stage, that was cool. Garrett
was very matter of fact explaining everything; he did it without making me
feel stupid, but there wasn't any doubt this kid is in charge of our date,
so far anyway.  It was a very strange feeling not being in charge, but the
thought of making a fool of myself in this theater environment over-rode
all my other concerns, especially as Garrett is patiently explaining the
clear plastic poncho at our seats. He goes, "Just unroll it and pull it
over your head like this, Geoff.  Go ahead, Geoff... do it now please so we
can sit down." Okay, now that was bossy! Garrett definitely had some
authority behind the 'Go ahead, Geoff... do it now!" In almost a trance I'm
staring dumbly at him as he nods his head indicating that I need to pull
the poncho over my head, which I do in slow motion while wondering, "What
the fuck's going on here?"

As soon as I started doing what Garrett told me to do, he pulled his poncho
expertly over his head smiling sweetly and nodding his head encouragingly,
now indicating that I was doing good. I found myself smiling back at him,
even though I had no idea what the ponchos are for. Garrett's still
excited, saying, "This will be so much fun, Geoff! Thanks for being such a
good sport about everything." That's better, I thought. And fuck it, I'm
beginning to feel a little excited about things myself.  The show ran for
an hour and forty-five minutes and was chuck-full of constantly bizarre
action.  Just like the advertisements for the show say, the Blue Man Group
is original, funny, visually stunning, and musically powerful.  Garrett and
I and most everyone around us got splattered a couple of times with paint
that the three bald, blue-headed cast members spit and sprayed and
drummed-on throughout the show... jeez, I was real glad to be wearing the
poncho!  In addition to the three Blue Men there was a hot rock band high
above the stage.  It was all crazy-nuts and too hard to describe
accurately; you need to see it for yourself.  After the show Garrett, for
twenty dollars, bought one of the "spin art" pieces that had been made
during the show; he explained he had spin art from each show he'd been
to. I was revved-up by the high energy level of the performance and can now
understand why someone would want to see the show multiple times. By the
way, the tickets cost sixty-two dollars; each ticket represents almost a
day's pay for me.  I tried not to sound like a pathetic poor boy while
thanking Garrett for treating me tonight, I told him "Yo, thanks Garrett,
that really rocked, dude... I appreciate it!" You know, I tried to keep it
light and casual. What I wanted to yell was something like "Oh my God, that
was so fucking awesome!! I could never afford it myself, but thank you so
much for treating me; it was one of the most exciting things I've ever
seen," and so on, but that's not me.  I gotta take back control of things
or Garrett will see I'm no more confident about many things than he is.
Also, I think he likes me mostly because I am the hard-ass, over-confident,
bullish type; not a pushover like... well, like him.

In the car Garrett says, "We'll drive over to the North End for some
coffees and Italian desserts now.  I know this place...." and he blathers
on.  I was going to tell him what we're doing next except I've never been
to the North End and it sounded cool so I kept my mouth shut and did what
Garrett said; it was a very strange feeling though.  I stared at Garret's
face as he talked while driving us through the ridiculously heavy Boston
traffic. Biting my lip I got a boner in my pants watching his mouth and
hearing his voice, not that I paid any attention to what he was saying.
It's more like I'd never seen this side of him before, he wasn't being
overbearing at all; just confidently going about what he wanted to do and
it made him appear sexier somehow.  In school he apparently wasn't in his
element, but driving his mother's car, going to the Charles Playhouse to
see Blue Man Group, and getting Italian desserts in Boston's North End is
his element. It's cool and I found myself mesmerized by Garrett... a
totally unexpected development and I don't have any idea what to make of
it.  He gave his car over to valet parking and we sat at a tiny round table
and had delicious sweet coffees and Italian cookies like I've never tasted
before.  Garrett paid for everything with his debit card.  I don't have a
debit card and didn't realize that many kids routinely pay for stuff with
them. Rich kids, ya know. In between eating and drinking we talked mostly
about the show, laughing as we recalled the highlights. Finally Garrett
says, "OK, time to go, Geoff.  How about if you give this parking ticket to
the guy at the valet desk, I need to take a leak. I'll meet you out front
when I'm done." Only while walking toward the front door of the restaurant,
staring at the ticket Garrett pressed in my hand, did I realize how bossy
he sounded just then and I began getting pissed-off.  Who the fuck does he
think he's dealing with here?  Does he think I'm his fucking flunky, or
what?

After giving the ticket to the valet kid, who's this hot teenaged Italian
boy with a swarthy complexion, long dark hair in a ponytail, and beautiful
black eyes that stared into my eyes when he asked, in this husky voice,
"What kinda car is it, dude?"  I stuttered, "Huh, ah... that is.  The car?
Oh, it's a blue, Volvo convertible." He'd caught me off guard and made me
act and feel like a dork. Why didn't Garrett tell me the kid would ask
questions?  God damnit! I'm so out of my element tonight, and Garrett's
definitely been bossing me the fuck around... and now I'm getting
intimidated by valet boys!  Then I tried to think straight.  I know I've
got a chip on my shoulder, just be cool with this. For once don't make a
federal case out of nothing. The valet didn't do anything wrong, and
neither has Garrett.  Try to relax; it's been a great night. I hear, "Is
everything okay, Geoff?" Turning my head I see it's Garrett with a
concerned expression on his face, "You look angry, are you?" I go, "No,
no... it's all cool. The kid's getting the car. Those fucking cookies
rocked, ya know?" Garrett, smiling now, told me how his family comes here
every couple of months after a show and blab, blab, blab.  I was back
staring at Garrett's incredible face and looking forward to making out with
him; making out with that fantastic mouth, with those sexy lips. Oh my God,
I'm hot for Garrett... I can't believe it.  Life's full of surprises.  He's
so little too, four or five inches shorter than me with that slim body of
his, very much like Bruce's. Then I remembered Garrett's long dick, the
boned-up one I'd grabbed through his pants outside the cafeteria weeks ago,
and the time we made-out at the DPW building when his long hard pecker was
poking my belly button just before he blew his load into his underpants,
Jesus!  Damn, I'm hot for all of Garrett and I don't know how or when this
happened. I can't let Garrett know, that's for damn sure.

On the Mass Pike driving out of Boston, Garrett says, "You gotta work
tomorrow so I better drop you off now, alright?" I frowned because he'd
just put the burden of suggesting some sexy activity onto me. By him asking
that question I'm now the one who will need to suggest we get sexy instead
of doing the sensible thing and getting to sleep. Damn! Did he do that on
purpose or by accident? Well, I'm not going to be the one who seems
needy. I mumble, "Yeah, sure... thanks, Garrett.  It's been great." There,
I turned the tables on him.  He says, "OK, I think it'll be quicker if I
get off at Route 30 though, instead of staying on the Pike into Framingham,
don't you think?" God dammit, isn't he going to ask me to do anything sexy
with him!  I say, "Whatever..." Garrett gets off the Mass Pike at Route 30
and is driving directly to my house. Oh, the hell with it; I say "Hey, how
about we park down by the DPW building and mess around for a little while,
you know..." Garrett's thinking about it, "You sure, Geoff?" He's making me
ask him a second time! Can I believe this shit?! I'm exasperated now, I go,
"Yeah, I'm fucking sure!  Okay?" Garrett's apologetic, "I didn't mean to
piss you off, I'm sorry, Geoff.  Don't be mad, okay?" Now the mood's fucked
up, but I look over and see the side of his face with his sincere
expression and soften my voice to say, "Let's just do it, Garrett." With a
nod of his head he turns off onto the road leading to the high school and
then down behind the high school to the abandoned DPW building where he
parks out of sight on the far side.  He turns in his seat to look at me and
quietly says, "I'm nervous, Geoff.  I don't know exactly what I'm supposed
to do."  I'm thinking... "Good, I'm back in charge!" I say, "Take your
glasses off first, then we'll get in the back seat. I'll walk you through
it, Garrett."  He takes a big breath, and mumbling, "Okay" takes his
glasses off and puts them on the dash board, then looks over at me for more
instructions. I find myself leaning over towards him and then cupping my
hand behind his head to pull our faces together; the hell with the back
seat, I can't wait to taste his mouth again. My lips close on his and we
both sigh at the same time. What's happening to me? Garrett's supposed to
be the infatuated one, not me.

Oh my God, his lips, then his tongue, feel so special.  His arms around my
neck, we lean together separated in out bucket seats only by the gear shift
between us. He's so delicious, I just absorb his saliva while moving my
head slightly back and forth rubbing my nose against his and inhaling his
boyish odor. I go back to French kissing him, and Garrett's imitating
everything I do. I've got his head held between my hands kissing his mouth,
then licking his tongue and sucking his top lip, both of us moaning with
sexual arousal. Shortly the stimulation becomes too high for Garrett; he
lets out a long moan, "Ahhh mmmmm."  He drags his face to be side by side
with my face, he's breathing fast, and then murmurs, "I'm going to cum in
my pants again, Geoff... you're so sexy to me, I can't catch my breath!"
Then, before I can say anything, he's mumbling quickly, "Was tonight fun
for you? I wanted it to be special and I planned it out all day today so
you'd like me and..." He was going off on one of his talking jags so I
interrupted him with, "Shhhh, don't talk Garrett, it was excellent
tonight. Thank you." Our head are just inches apart; I looked into his big
blue eyes, and asked, "Would you like me to fuck you?"  He nods his head up
and down, then whispers "Yes, but I'm scared to do it." I move my face to
his and kiss his lips quickly; then, without thinking about it, I found
myself deep into another mad make-out with Garrett.  I've never felt like
this before; sex play and all that is fantastic with Dajuan and Bruce, but
my feelings for Garrett are different.  I care about Garrett differently
somehow and I don't know how that happened. I can't get enough of him, his
taste, his looks, his voice, his smell. Our faces are wet with spit and now
a little perspiration mixes in as well... it's hot in the car with the top
up and the heater on to ward off the chill of this spring night. Garrett's
making squeaking sounds, he again pulls his head away reaching between his
legs this time to adjust himself and moan, "It feels so good... I thought I
was going to cum in my pants again."  I say, "Let's get in the back seat
now."

We're both breathing hard, he looks at me biting his lip with a worried
look on his face. I ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek, then put my lips
against his ear and whisper, "I'd never hurt you, Garrett.  Don't
worry... I'll look out for you." When I look back at his face, his eyes are
big, he's nodding his head with tiny nods as he mumbles, "Thank you, Geoff.
I trust you... tell me what to do."  "First, let's get these front bucket
seats as far forward as they'll go, then we'll get in the back. Ya got a
blanket or something?" Garrett and I use the power seat adjustment to move
the seats forward; he turns off the car, takes the keys and says, "In the
trunk there's a picnic blanket. I'll get it." I'm thinking "What the fuck's
a picnic blanket?" but I say nothing.  He gets a thin blanket that we
spread on the leather back seat and then we get in and close the
doors. Lights high on the DPW building reflecting off of something keep it
from being pitch black in the car.  "Take off your pants, Garrett. We'll do
a lap-fuck."  He nods his head saying, "I've seen that on the "Gaydar" web
site, it looks cool but oh my God I'm nervous."  I ignore his nervousness
and ask "I don't suppose you have lube, do ya?" He shakes his head "no" as
he's struggling out of his pants. When he takes his underpants down his
face turns red, blushing. "I'm not shy about being naked for gym showers,
but it's just the two of us and somehow I'm self conscious about you seeing
me." He's using his hand to kind of shield his package from my view but I
can see it anyway.  A long, uncut penis surrounded by blond pubic hair in a
neatly confined area; below that are regular sized balls nestled nicely in
a hairless pink sack. His thighs are pink and hairless; I get the urge to
lick them right where they connect to his torso, next to his
groin. Reaching over slowly, my mouth open slightly, I gently push his hand
away and then push up his shirt to expose his hairless belly and his innie
belly button, then my glance goes back down to what's between his legs. His
cock might be the longest cock I've ever seen. Not particularly fat, just
long.

Slowly my hand moves down to gently lift his semi-hard penis. Making a
fist, I move my hand downward toward his belly, pulling the foreskin off
the hidden head, and there it is: a perfect pink, one-eyed cock head that I
want to have in my mouth and, at the same time, can't believe I even had
that thought.  It made me shake my head hard, as if waking me from a
trance.  My eyes look up to see Garrett staring down at my hand wrapped
around his cock.  I stroke up to cover the head of his penis with the
foreskin again and then down, and his cock's head appears once more.  I do
that a half dozen times, neither of us saying a word; no sound at all
except our short burst of breath.  His cock, now all of seven inches, gets
as hard as a steel pipe, there's a clear drop of liquid forming at his pee
slit, it enlarges as we watch it, continues to get bigger until it breaks
free of the slit and rolls down the shaft and over my fingers.  Garrett
gasps then, his body shudders, goose bumps on his thighs as another precum
drop appears at his pee slit, then down it rolls to join its brother on my
fingers. I say, "We'll use precum as our lube, but next time I'll make sure
to have some real lube 'cause it goes better that way." Garrett looks up,
his eyes even wider, he nods and does a tiny shy grin, then mutters, "Okay,
Geoff."  Looking down I see his calves which are thin, but showing very
noticeable muscle tone.  Letting go of his dic, I ask, "Do you exercise,
Garrett?" He replies, breathlessly, "I'm a runner on the cross country
track team at school. I've been doing it since freshman year... why?" My
breathing gets shallower; I reach over and run my hand up and down his leg
thinking of Bruce's calves.  Pulling Garret's leg up on my lap moves him
slightly sideways on the seat, it also causes his boner to lean up against
his bare belly and he goes, "Ooh!" and stroke himself. He'd already pulled
off his loafers; I pull his sock off and there's his long pink foot with
the neatly trimmed toenails. His long thin foot goes with his long thin
cock; perfect symmetry. Without thinking I pulled his foot up, leaned down,
and smelled it.  Not a strong foot smell, more like the regular boyish
Garrett-smell.  I glance up at Garrett momentarily; his brow was furrowed,
looking quizzically at me. Thinking quickly that I don't want to confuse
the situation this first time, I say, "Oh, it's nothing" and push his leg
off my lap and pull down my pants past my knees.  "Here, Garrett.  Kneel on
either side of my thighs facing me.  We'll take it slowly."  His face got
flushed again, then bright red as he went into full-blush mode.

Smiling at him, encouraging him, he did his head nod again; lots of head
nods from Garrett but he's so fucking cute with it the head nodding didn't
bother me anymore. He was very nimble getting in front of me, one of his
knees on either side of my hips.  He sat down on my thighs breathing hard
now.  Red in the face he does a big inhale and looks first at my cock that
was boning up a little, then he looked me in the eyes.  "Lift up on your
knees" I tell him.  My cock was fairly hard, but with a few strokes as I'm
glancing at Garrett's body, naked from the waist down, I was soon rock hard
and dripping.  Slowly reaching over to stroke Garrett's boner again I
collected some precum and wiped it on the head of my cock, then drooled a
spit string on it too. As I smeared it around the head of my boner Garrett
made little wheezy sounds, red dots appearing on his neck, then his blush
traveled down to drown out the red dots; he was blushing down on his chest
too probably, but I couldn't see it because he still had his shirt
on. "Take my dick, Garrett, and line it up with your bum hole... go ahead."
His eyes were blinking quickly as he went up on his knees, took my boner in
his fingers, then leaned forward and rubbed the head of my wet cock back
and forth along his ass crack.  I almost groaned then, his skin so soft,
even when he moved it over his hole it was warm and soft. Hairless, soft,
pinkish skin; very clean and new. I did a little gasp at the incredible
sensations he was causing on my cock which made Garrett dart his eyes to
mine.  I smiled again saying, "You're doing great" and just like that he
sat down on my cock.  It went up inside him about two inches, he
immediately pulled up and off going "Owww, oh, that hurt!"  It felt
fantastic to me so I mumbled, "It goes easier with lube, put some more of
your precum on the head, spit on your hand and use your saliva too."  He
did what I said which impressed the hell out of me.  He could just as well
have said, "Screw this... it hurts too much!"

Waiting for Garrett to try again I was wondering how or why this rather
small, slightly whiny kid had grown on me to such a degree.  My realization
that it really matters to me that this goes well has me totally baffled.
His whole package; his cute looks, his sincere and friendly mien, his
boyish scent, his yummy mouth, great body and that fantastic cock of
his... all of it is obviously enticing, but it's more than that.  How do
any of us pinpoint all the reasons that one certain person becomes more
important than anyone else? There are so many intangibles involved; all the
subconscious unknowable little things that add together to create this
unique individual that you simply must have in your life.  I know at some
point it's got a name, "love" as in "I love you," not that that's where I'm
at with Garrett. Whatever it is, I know it's more than what I feel for my
friends Dajuan and Bruce; they're still very important to me but Garrett's
in another category now and I don't know what the name of that category is
yet.  I reached over and squeezed Garrett's arm mumbling, "You'll like it
Garrett, I know you will."  He looked up with a surprised expression, his
eyes soft as he quietly says, "Thanks for that, Geoff." Then, with a look
of renewed determination, he sat on my boner again with the same result;
two inches of boner up his ass and him immediately pulling off. He tried
again and, this third time when lifting up, he didn't pull totally off as
my cock head stayed in him.  He sank down again quickly, biting his lip
with his eyes closed tightly; sat down so that most of my cock went up his
ass before he slowly went up on his knees pulling off just until the head
of my cock was at his sphincter ring. I'm staring at his face waiting for
the verdict as we're both taking quick breaths, my heart pounding in my
chest. The sensations on my cock are awesome as I wait with anticipation
for Garrett's appraisal.

Opening his eyes he goes, "Oh man!  That felt good this time, Geoff."  I
breathed a sigh of relief and said, "See what I mean?  Do it some more, it
feels awesome to me too!" He manages a smile as he goes down on my boner
again, up and then all the way down to sit on my thighs with my boner way
up his ass. Blowing out a lot of air he squirms on my legs, rises up and
then down again. "Oh wow, this is so good," he says seemingly to
himself. Then, getting a hold of my shoulders with both hands, he starts
riding my boner the full six inches, up and down, for at least a dozen
times making squeaky noises with his eyes shut again.  He stops then with
the head of my cock at his sphincter ring, leans his head down next to his
hand on my shoulder, the side of his face against the side of mine, his
boner swaying between us dripping copious amounts of clear liquid, and with
exhales near my ear he humps my boner fast until letting out a long
"Ahhhhh" and a stream of cum blasts up from his cock splashing my chest
where the top button of my shirt is undone. The second squirt of cum has
him squeezing my shoulders so hard it hurt, his cum stream hitting under my
chin and on my neck, then another spray as he humps my cock in a frenzy
until one of his humps upward is so erratic it pulls off my boner and I
picked that time to squeeze out a long string of cum that lines across the
back of the front passenger seat, then a smaller burst of cum with me
shutting down every muscle in my body trying to shoot another shot of
spunk, but only getting drools running down the shaft of my boner. I'm so
aroused I can't even make a sound other than heavy breathing and grunting
noises.  Garrett's got me around the neck in a death grip squeezing his
body up against me making whimpering sounds and rocking slightly from one
side to the other.  His cock is still hard between us, wetting my shirt
with its still drooling head.  I've got my arms around him hugging back as
I feel little kisses on the side, near the back of my neck.

We rocked gently like that for a short time.  Then, anxious to hear how
much he liked it, I asked, "Was I right, Garrett?"  He does his head nod,
naturally; then quietly says, "I never would have believed anything could
be that elaborate.  I mean, the sensations were off the charts, too many to
even recognize all of them.  I still feel like I'm vibrating or something."
I'm rubbing the hairs on the back of his head chuckling a little and at the
same time saying, "Yeah, I know what you mean, Garrett.  You know, I'm
pretty new to this too, but it sure felt good doing it with you."  He pulls
his head back then and, looking me right in the eyes says, "Is it alright
for me to say I love you, Geoff?" I shake my head from side to side slowly
and say, "No, don't say that Garrett... we hardly know each other... let's
say we're fuck buddies, okay? For now at least."  The head nod again, then
he says, "Sure, that's fine" and he lays his head back on my shoulder again
and I hug him tight for a second. What a great armful he is, and am I ever
stuck on him.  I better go very slowly with this though or I'll wind up
following Garrett around like Bruce follows me.  That made me grunt a
chuckle and Garrett asks, "What's so funny?"  I say, "You want to try it a
different way?" He brightens and goes, "Now, tonight? Do ya think we can?"
I say, "Sure, you lay on your back and I'll fuck you like that." He says,
"How 'bout you lay on your back and I'll fuck you?"  He asked that so
innocently and all of a sudden it was clear to me, he doesn't know anything
about dominant or submissive behavior; where Garrett's concerned it's just
a matter of what's fair is fair.  That was his motivation for calling about
me making a date with his sister; it didn't seem fair to him, just like
he'd said at the time. I say, "Hey, let it be my turn another night,
tonight it's your turn."  He thinks about it for a second, nods his head
that it's fine with him and mumbles, "Next time I'll be doing the, you
know... the fucking part."  Just for the hell of it I nod like he does to
me and he laughs, saying, "I know I do that all the time. Heh, I gotta try
to cut down on my nodding and practice speaking more, huh?" What a cute
kid; I nod again.

As Garrett's laying on his back lengthwise on the blanket covering the back
seat I'm standing awkwardly bent over leaning against the front seat
thinking, "Am I really going to let Garrett fuck me?" He's only five foot
seven inches tall, at most, but laying on the seat his feet still rest up
on the side of the Volvo so I pull one out and climb onto the back seat in
between his legs, scoot up to him, and press my still firm cock against his
asshole; it slides in and we both go, "Ahhhh... ohhhh yeah!" He's smiling
now as he bends his legs at the knees and brings them forward, in the air.
I push in the rest of the way and begin a smooth fucking of that great ass
of his.  Garrett soon has his legs wrapped around my waist with his ankles
interlocked behind me.  It felt wonderful and I loved looking at his cute
face while fucking him hard and fast. After awhile I leaned down and we
kissed for maybe five minutes spreading more saliva around our faces,
rubbing our noses together making quiet moans and murmurs.  I wanted to eat
him up, wrap him up in my arms until we melded together, it was the most
intimate feeling I've ever had for another person. Maybe Garrett's right,
maybe it is love but how the hell can that be?  It doesn't make any sense.

I fucked him for twenty minutes stroking his cock for him the last five and
he had himself a nice second climax blowing his cheeks out and doing funny
little squealing noises that made him laugh at himself.  I shot some cum up
his ass a few minutes later and thought the top of my head would come off
when I was doing it too. Sensations shooting down my legs and up to my
scalp... awesome! Somehow the very idea that my cum was up Garrett's ass
was just different, more erotic than my cum up another boy's ass, or a
girl's cunt for that matter. When we were hugging and kissing a little
later on I knew I was going to let Garrett fuck me; I was looking forward
to it actually. But still, I don't understand the why of it yet... the why
of it paled as I realized... the need for it.  Garrett Austin. Can it be
that I've fallen for him?

Garrett got me laughing when he said, in a deadly serious manner, "Can we
do it once more tonight?"  Damn, I wish I could but I've had a very
sexually active day yesterday and it's been quite active tonight too, so
I'm chuckling when I say, "Oh my God, you wore me out, Garrett.  We'll be
at it again soon though, okay?" He nods his head which I just caught out of
the corner of my eye as I'm pulling up my pants.  I did notice the cum
leaking out of Garrett's ass though, and we've both got drying cum on our
shirts thanks to Garrett's explosive climaxes. His first climax soaked
mostly me and his second one got mostly him. My initial cum streak across
the back of the front seat was drying but Garrett had "Wet Ones" clean-ups
in aluminum foil packets that I ripped open and used to wipe off the cum.
We bumped into each other as I was doing that and Garrett was trying to get
into his pants. He kept shooting me these cute smirks as if the two of us
were in on a big mission together, and maybe we are.  On the way to my
house Garrett was bubbling with enthusiasm.  He told me, in one of his
endless sentences how, "I've been wondering for so long if I'd ever get a
chance to do this and now that I've done it I can't believe how fabulous it
is and how about oral sex and have you ever tried rimming and if not would
you try it in the future do ya think and should I keep what we did a
secret?" ("Absolutely, Garrett") and on and on he went.  Off on one of his
rants where his sentences string together and he talks too fast but I
smiled contentedly; for the moment Garrett could do no wrong in my eyes.
And, God dammit, I gotta figure this out; my feelings for him make me feel
as vulnerable as I've ever felt.

to be continued

Donny Mumford              thinkat20@yahoo.com

Please notice that I'm putting this series on the back burner for a while,
but it'll be finished to a logical conclusion with another two or three
chapters... but, at a later date.  I promised guys to get back to the
"DYLAN" series with chapters of "Dylan's Summer Vacation" and then back to
"Geoff's Point Of View".  The guys who asked to be notified when I go back
to Dylan will get a copy when I post it on Nifty (gay/high school).  Anyone
who wants a copy of "Geoff's Point Of View" when I go back to it, just let
me know.  In either case it'll be posted on Nifty as well (gay/high
school).  Thank you for your wonderful support of this story!!

Donny