DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR
Chapter 41
by Donny Mumford
I've got a bad feeling about this. Maybe it's because things have been going my way lately and I figure there's gotta be some bad luck somewhere in my travels, or maybe it's the body language of the three college-age guys looking at us from a hundred yards away. They just came out of the rest area's building in Parker's Park and stared down at us. Chubby and I are catching our breath. We've just jogged the first half of our run; the same run we used to make almost everyday before we got jobs a couple of years ago. Or maybe I've got bad vibes because I ran into that Marine guy right here around the same time Chubby got his window washing job, and I had a few very strange encounter with that Marine. Whatever the reason, I'm definitely experiencing nervousness. If they weren't looking for trouble they'd have ignored us, not stared down at us so obviously. I say to Chubby, "Don't look now, but three guys just came out of the restroom and they're checking us out. My intuition says they're trouble." Of course, even though I told him not to look, Chubby looks at them anyway, going, "Whaddaya talking about, Dylan, you think we're the only guys jogging this trail? I'm surprised we didn't see runners along the way." When Chubby looked up at the three, the one on the right gave a girlie wave at us, then all three started walking towards us in a line, like the "Gunfight at the OK Corral". They're still staring at us and talking out of the sides of their mouths to each other. Chubby plops down on a bench, saying, "We shoulda brought bottled water with us. Do you suppose there's water in the restroom?" I'm trying not to look at the guys, trying to ignore them like they should have done with us. I mumble, "Probably, but I'm not drinking water from a restroom." Chubby goes, "Why not?" I say, "Come on, Chubby, lets take off. I'm rested." He's like, "Take off? We just got here fer chrissakes. I'm gonna check out the restroom and get something to drink. Maybe they put a soda machine up there. It's not just a lavatory, ya know. There's a room with information pamphlets about the park in the front of that building." I'm not listening to Chubby, I'm trying to think what our options are if these guys are a problem. Chubby has always said that when in a jam do the unexpected, but what would that be in this case? If there were just two of them I'd feel better about things, but maybe my imagination is getting the best of me. Chubby's taking off a sneaker, muttering, "I got a stone or something in my sneaker."
Casually stretching, I glance over at the three strangers and now they're twenty yards away from us. They're all wearing running gear. The one who gave the girlie wave has on a shiny, sleeveless, black and red top that's skin tight, and shorty shorts that ya see guys run races in, they're smaller than boxer shorts. Yellow Nike running shoes with ankle socks complete his outfit. He's average size, but the guy on the left is ridiculously musclebound. He's got the hairiest legs I've ever seen too, hairier than Alan Snyder's, if I can believe that. Bulging muscles in his biceps, and his thigh muscles are so big they almost rub together as he walks. He needs to hold his arms away from his body slightly or his biceps would rub his sides as his arms move; he's hideous looking if you ask me. Being musclebound is not a good look in my book. All three have on the shorty-shorts, but girlie-wave is the only one with a sleeveless top, the kind with just straps over the shoulders; the other two are wearing running shirts with short sleeves. Chubby ties his sneaker's, asking, "You coming with me, Dylan? Lets see if there's a vending machine up there." I'm no coward, so I mutter, "Uh huh, let's go." We get up and walk towards the three guys with Chubby's saying something that he chuckles at, but I don't hear whatever made him laugh. The three guys are staring right at us as they walk, and when we get to them they do that thing bullies do, they walk right at us so we need to step out of their way or get run down. I try side stepping the guy on the right, the girlie-guy, without looking at him, but he gets his arm around my shoulders, lisping, "Where ya going, kid?" Musclebound, on the left of the three, has his arm around Chubby's shoulders at the same time, asking, "You boys have your seasonal passes for these Parker's Park trails?" Chubby shrugs his shoulders trying to get musclebound's arm off him, but the guy holds on, sarcastically adding, "We're sort of un-appointed rangers for the park, making sure everyone pays for the use of these beautiful trails." Chubby says, "What the fuck ya talking about? There's no fee for using these trails." The third guy, who was walking in the middle, is very tall with a long hairdo, he asks, "You lads from Framingham High, are ya?" I ask, "What's your problem?" as I'm trying to get out of the girlie guys grasp, but he gets me in a headlock, chuckling, "Feisty huh? Relax, we just want to talk to you boys for a minute." The musclebound guy says, "Lets walk these boys up to the restroom, Marvin," then to us, "That's where you were headed, right? We'll keep you company." Chubby, recognizing that my intuition of trouble is unfortunately correct, stalls for time, asking, "Is there a vending machine up there?" Marvin, the name of the girlie-guy, does that rubbing thing with his knuckles on top of my head as I struggle to free myself from his headlock. He says, leaning his head uncomfortably close to my face, "Calm down," then, "You smell nice, what's your name?" I yell, "Let go of me, asshole!"
Musclebound and Marvin get us turned around heading back to from where they came; the long-hairdo guy walls behind us goosing my ass, then says to Marvin, "Choice ass on your boy." Marvin uses his free hand to yank my head to the side and then push his fingers between my lips, doing a lisping mumble, "His mouth is choice too." Hairdo walks around Marvin, saying, "Let me see," and he puts his fingers between my lips and rubs against my teeth. His fingers smell like nicotine. I struggle mightily, but Marvin chuckles, then cups the fist of the arm around my neck with his free hand and tightens his headlock painfully, shaking me, saying, "I'll squeeze your fucking neck until your head pops off, cutie." It hurts like hell, and fear floods my brain as the reality of the situation sinks in. Muscle-bound is basically dragging Chubby now, and he's having very little trouble doing it too. He mutters, "You two lads are gonna experience something new. Most boys aren't this lucky, so this is your lucky day 'cause we're gonna let you suck our cocks and then we're gonna fuck you. All of us, so resign yourselves to your fate and it'll go easier for you. If you cooperate we won't need to beat the shit out of you, but if you continue to be a pain in the ass, we'll still fuck ya, but you'll end-up not nearly as pretty as you are now." The long-hairdo guy tries to talk some sense to us, pretending to be nice, he says, "There's no need to get beat-up boys. Just cooperate and we'll all leave friends. You'll experience something new that you might even like. It feels good taking a man's cock up your ass, or in your throat for that matter. It's not like it isn't done thousands of time a day. Whaddaya say?" Chubby's feet drag on the ground, as musclebound has an arm under both of Chubby's arms dragging him effortlessly, Chubby says, "Oh, something that feels good, goldilocks? I'll show you something that you might enjoy too. The first chance I get I'm going to punt your nuts up to your lungs and then step on your dick while you grovel on the ground." All three of them laugh, and Marvin lisps, "We're gonna need to tie these two tigers up. They're dangerous." Something jogs in my brain; do I know this pervert?
We're inside the building now, in the room before the actual restroom, and there's no vending machine either, so it's a total loss. Marvin says to long-hairdo, "Artie, take hold of this one and I'll get his sweatpants down. We can use his pants to tie his arms behind him." Artie goes, "Ewww, my pleasure, he's as cute as they get," and he puts his arm around the front of my throat pulling me against his chest, his face against the side of mine, choking me as he licks my ear, then sticks his tongue in and deposits lots of his saliva to fill my ear with it. How can something done by my boyfriend be so sexy, but when done by this pig be so revolting? "Lift him off his feet," mumbles Marvin, and now I notice he has rose colored tattoos on his right bicep and I remember where I know him from. He's the obnoxious one who first spoke to Willie and me at fat Carl's cookout. He was dressed in biker's gear at that flawed affair. I can't say anything at the moment
though, Artie's lifting me off the ground with his arm under my chin, choking off my windpipe. I don't even kick my legs as Marvin pulls off my pants because it's frightening not being able to breath, and I don't want this condition to drag on. Artie says, "Get his jockey shorts too," and off they come with Marvin lisping, "Ewww, he's really hung!" and he fondles my package, then bends down and sucks my cock, with Artie saying, "I gotta put him down or he'll pass out." Musclebound goes, "Let him pass out, that might be the way to go," but Artie sets me on my feet and loosens his arm around my throat, just barely enough for me to breath, saying, "It's more fun seeing him struggle. He's a strong kid and I'm going to fuck his awesome ass until he's tweeting like a canary. The more he struggles under me, the more I'll like it" Tears are running down my face, not from crying because I'm not crying; from the stranglehold I guess. I glance over and see musclebound has a hand over Chubby's mouth, which is why I haven't head from him lately. Muscleman's other hand is inside Chubby's sweatpants fondling him, as he mutters, "Smaller cock here. I think I'll be able to get his cock and balls in my mouth at the same time, although he's got big nuts, so maybe not."
Artie says, "You hold this one, Marvin. I wanna see if he has a wallet." Marvin goes, "Let me get another taste of his cock first," then to me, "Ya worked-up a little perspiration jogging, didn'tcha? I like that." I've got my breath back and can talk again, so I nervously say, "You guys got a big problem unless you plan on killing us, which will compound your problem beyond belief." Artie stops sucking my limp cock, and says, "No way are we murdering you!" then long-hairdo adds, "We just want to have a little fun with you two. Killing you is way not going to happen; don't worry about that. You'll be okay, and if you cooperate, like I said, we won't even beat ya up. Will we guys?" Musclebound is struggling with Chubby, he grunts, "I might need to beat the shit out of this one though, and I mean just short of killing him. He hasn't stopped fighting me since I got hold of him." Marvin says, "Use the chokehold on him that Artie used on his kid. It calmed him right down," then to me, "You're ready to work with us now, aren't you, cutie?" He's trying to seem nice. I go, "You still got that big problem I mentioned." Marvin chuckles, asking, "What might that be?" I say, "Your name is Marvin Carvey, you were at fat Carl Denton's cookout a few weeks ago." The three of them look at each other, they're eyes wide as reality comes for them now too. Marvin's pointing at me, saying, "Ya, ya, you where that other kid," and Artie screams, "Oh fuck! You dumb shit, Marvin!" Then to me, "Hey, we were just kidding around with you here. Let him put his pants back on," and long-hairdo, Artie is his name, lets go of me. On my feet now, I swing around and kick Artie in the nuts. Marvin goes to grab me as Artie doubles over. I snarl at Marvin, "Don't fuckin' touch me, ya pervert!" He looks at musclebound, unsure of what to do next. Artie groans and sits down on the floor, then rolls over on his side in the fetal position. I got a perfect hit on his balls, and that's a rare lucky kick. I say to musclebound, "Let him loose," meaning Chubby, then add, "Maybe there's even a way you guys can get out of this without the police getting involved." Marvin says, "Let him go, Stan! Let's listen to the kid's idea. I can't fuckin' believe I didn't recognize the fucker, I mean, look at him, you'd think I'd remember that face." I'm putting my jockey shorts on, then my sweatpants, not sure how to proceed. Stan's eyes move back and forth, apparently he's thinking too, or trying to. Marvin again says, "Let him go!" and Stan takes his hand off Chubby's mouth and then his arms drops to his side. Chubby takes a few big breaths, his face as dark red as I've ever seen it. Before I can say, 'Don't do it, Chubby,' he turns around and kicks Stan in the balls, but doesn't get the lucky shot on him that I got on Artie, so Stan partially blocks it, screaming, "You motherfucker!" Marvin gets between Chubby and Stan calming Stan down, "Be cool, Stan. Let the other kid think." Stan says, "Fuck 'em, let's kill 'em!" Marvin goes, "Don't be an asshole, we're not killing anyone." Then to me, "Whaddya you got in mind, dude?" I say, "First off, that was a threat to my friends life which I believe is a crime in itself." Marvin goes, "Oh bullshit! Whaddaya got? What's your idea?"
I don't know, actually. I'm chewing on my bottom lip as Artie sits up muttering, "You skinny prick, I oughta..." but Marvin yells, "Shut the fuck up, Artie!" Apparently Marvin's the honcho in this posse, and he's dropped the lisp too. He hasn't used it from the time I mentioned his name. And how the fuck I remembered his last name I'll never know... it just came to me. I only heard it once during that horrible little incidence at fat Carl's. Chubby's spitting, trying to get the taste of Stan's hand out of his mouth I suppose. I don't have a real idea of what to do now, but I blurt out the only thing I can think of. I go, "You three give us your wallets. That way we'll have robbed you which will prevent us from going to the police to report the homosexual rape that you've basically already have done on my person. You'll be safe, and we'll be on our way." The brains of this group, Marvin, says, "Do you really think we have wallets in these skimpy running shorts?" Chubby goes, "Ya got money with ya though, right? Pull your pockets inside out." I raise my eyebrows at Marvin, with an expression on my face, like, 'What are you waiting for?" He exchanges glances with Stan, who shrugs, mumbling, "It almost makes sense, I guess. This was your idea, Marvin! Ya dumb shit!" Marvin goes, "Oh fuck you, Stan! You were all-in from the start," and he pulls his pockets inside-out and some change and a few dollar bills drop to the floor. Chubby picks-up the bills, saying, "Forty-two dollars," then he looks at musclebound Stan, who has a very scary, pissed-off expression on his face. Stan hesitates, then mutters, "Fuck..." and pulls his pockets out and a small billfold hits the ground along with a small plastic container of peppermint tic tacs, and an unopened container of condoms. Chubby picks up all three items, takes a tic tac; then, as he sucks on it, he counts the money. "Eighty-one dollars," he says. Everyone looks at Artie who's sitting-up now, his hands supporting him from behind as he leans back on them. "I don't have any money on me, ya ball buster," he says to me. "Be cool, Artie," says Marvin, "Pull your pockets out to show them." Artie struggles to his feet, saying to me, "If I ever get a chance, you're gonna get the beating of your putrid life," as he turns his pockets inside-out and a condom, a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes, and a driver's license fall to the floor. I pick up the condom and toss it to Chubby, who puts it in his pocket, saying, "Safe sex is a good thing." Artie says, "Fuck you!" and Marvin goes, "Artie!" then to me, he asks, "We done here yet?" I take out my cell phone, saying, "Yeah, but if I see one of you on our way out of the park, I'm calling the police and we'll take the rap for robbery just to see you take one for rape and kidnapping. I got your DNA on my dick, and his," pointing to Artie, "Is in my fuckin' ear." They all stare at me with hatred in their eyes. I bend down and grab Artie's drivers license and put it in my pocket, then say, "Lets go Chubby." Stan says, "Chubby? He ain't chubby." Marvin rolls his eyes, but that's the last word we hear from them because we're out the door jogging away, looking back every ten seconds.
Neither Chubby nor I says anything for five minutes, and then I need to stop and dry heave at the side of the trail. The adrenaline kick can be sickening after the fact. Chubby rubs my back as I'm leaning over. He says, "That was a fantastic performance you put on back there, Dylan, your best one ever. I couldn't think of a way out without getting our asses kicked." I feel horrible so just nod my head, and mutter, "Let's jog some more." Chubby's like, "Are you okay?" I say, "No, not really. Those fuckers scared the shit out of me." He hugs me, saying, "We'd have done something, Dylan, but your solution is by far the best one I can think of. I had my eye on the fire alarm box and the fire extinguisher in the corner. Hit one or two of those sick bastards over the head with that heavy metal container might have done it. But this is better. Hey, whaddaya you wanna do with the money?" I'm still feeling ill, and a little mystified at how quickly Chubby's gotten over that terrible situation. I ask, "Weren't you scared back there?" He thinks for a second, then quietly says, "I guess if I had a brain in my head I shoulda been scared, but I was so pissed-off all I could think of was some way to seriously do fucking harm to Stan, the ugly weight lifter." I nod my head, feeling a little better, then tapping my head with my index finger, I say, "Brains, not brawn... that's what got us out of that mess!" and I can't help but give smile a little too. Chubby squeezes my hand, then says, "Okay, Einstein, let's jog our asses out of here," and that's what we do, looking over our shoulder every couple of minutes. While jogging I start being proud of myself, but realize soon enough that we really escaped disaster because of luck. The luck of knowing one of them; if we didn't know any of them we'd go to plan B, which is Chubby's plan. So I need to admit that in most cases like that one, Chubby used the best approach by planning something, anything, to give us a chance of getting away. Hitting a couple of then over the head with the fire extinguisher is a pretty good idea if one of us could get to it. I also have two other thoughts while jogging down the pretty trail of Parker's Park: one, I feel embarrassed that there are gays who are like those three. I'd rather think that straights are the only ones who bully, but that's obviously not the case. And two, what would it do to Chubby if he was fucked by one of them. I mean, after his horrible experience with the infamous Ricky of window washer infamy. It probably would put an end to any hope I have of some sexy time with Chubby in the future. There's another thought I have too; it's this, 'Will Chubby think less of me for being gay now that it was gay thuds who tried to do what those three had in mind?' Bothersome thought, so I ask, "Chubby, do you think less of me now because I'm gay, like those animals?" He stops running, to look at me, "What? Why would I, Dylan? There are bad guys both gay and straight. I've run into more straight assholes in my life, by far, then gay ones. Dylan, you and those animals might be gay, but that's all you have in common with that trash. They'll eventually get what's coming to them, you don't think we're the only boys they've thought to do that to, do ya?" I go, "It might be, I don't know, but I hate the thought of them being on my team in any way." He goes, "Well, they're not on your team! You might as well say you don't want to be on the male team because of those sick boys in New Hampshire awhile back who murdered that woman and tried to kill the woman's twelve year old girl. They were boys our age, but that's all we have in common with them." I nod my head, then grin at Chubby, and say, "You're the brains of this outfit, not me, dude," He goes, "Yeah, I know that. Lets go."
It was a relief to get in the Jeep and drive away and I have to think it'll be quite a while before I'll want to run that trail again, and that's a damn shame 'cause it's part of Chubby's and my childhood. During the ride we go over the sordid details of our encounter with the dark side. Chubby seems more somber about it now that we're reflecting on what could have happened. Apparently the reality of the situation has hit home for him now. Neither of us mentions our past encounters with dangerous situations, and certainly not the window washer boys' case of two years ago. Thinking about what just happened in the park, I ask, "Do you think we should go to the police anyway, Chubby? That robbery thing won't hold water if we turn ourselves in and turn the money over to the police with an explanation of the situation." Chubby yells, "Hell no! If you're dealing with the police, you got problems, Dylan. Fuck that! It'd be in the papers and we'd be associated with those scum bags in some people's minds. But mostly I don't want the moms worrying about it or needing to deal with it in any way. We need to protect them from that kind of publicity. Just imagine them needing to rehash it with coworkers, their bosses, and... no, forget the police." I'm nodding my head in agreement, especially the part about our moms. They think Chubby and I lead safe, happy lives and I want them to continuing thinking that. And, for the vast majority of the time we are leading safe, happy lives; let's leave it at that. I go, "You're right Chubby, and lets not talk about it any more either. I want to put it behind us." He goes, "Yeah, I like the way you roll, Dylan," and he holds his fist out for me to bump with mine, which I do. We exchange smiles, then Chubby's like, "I got two last words on that fiasco in Parker's Park: one, I'm really proud of you, Dylan... just saying, and two, those fucks are gonna worry their asses off for awhile thinking we might go to the police, they'll be thinking about it the same way you described it." I hadn't thought of that. I murmur, "Oh yeah, they'll be shitting their pants for a couple of days at least. Hell, it'll be in the back of their minds for longer than that." I feel good about that, and Chubby's one-hundred percent right about contacting the police... that's only done as the very, very last resort in any situation.
We stop at a convenience store to get a couple of sport drinks and a pack of Marlboro Lights, then lean against the Jeep drinking from the bottles and smoking. Chubby takes a swallow, then a drag on our cigarette; he holds up the bottle and the cigarette, saying, "Compliments of the musclebound asshole, I already forget his name." He passes me the cigarette and I take a drag. Musclebound's name was Stan, but I don't mention it 'cause I want to forget it too. I'm feeling relief for our lucky escape and relief from the discomfort of swarming adrenaline in my system. It's a beautiful day again, something I haven't noticed since girlie-acting Marvin got his arm around my shoulders. He was a strong one, much stronger than he looked. Chubby and I aren't going to talk directly about that scary situation anymore, but that don't mean it's out of my mind entirely; that'll take time. Chubby takes the cigarette from my fingers and inhales, then with smoke drifting from his nose and mouth, he says, "Whaddaya say we treat ourselves to dinner at Ken's tonight, compliments of the scum bags?" I go, "Let's see how the day goes, but that sounds like fun... that is, as long as you don't embarrass us again by trying to order a whiskey sour or something." He goes, "Oh, I was hoping we could get a couple of pink squirrels to toast the perverts with." "Pink squirrel? What the fuck is that?" Chubby flicks our cigarette butt over the Jeep into the road, muttering, "Ya really got no freakin' idea, dude? Jeez, I thought everyone knew what a pink squirrel is. It's creme de noyaux, or ameretto will work too, some white creme de cacao, and heavy cream." I stare at him with a blank expression on my face and he burst out with a little laugh, muttering, "Check it out," and I go, "No. I don't believe I will. Pink squirrel, my ass." He's still chuckling, asking, "Do you want to drive now, Dylan?" I take the key from him, "I believe I do," and we drive to my condo and watch a few innings of the Red Sox game in the finished basement, side by side on the lounge chair with our feet stretched out in front of us, and Chubby's arm under my neck. It's how we've watched TV for as long as I can remember. Of course lately we don't get a chance to do it hardly at all.
Around four I check emails on my iphone and see one from Robby. He wants to know when I'll be back to the apartment. His shoulder has recovered amazingly well the last day or so. He misses me and there's some mention of love. No mention of what he's been up to, but the shoulder recovery is good news indeed. I ask Chubby, "We gonna do the dinner at Ken's?" and he goes, "Hell yeah," so I text Robby that I won't be back until sometime later tonight. I tell a little white lie that Chubby and I are having dinner with our moms and that we can't get out of it. If I said it was just Chubby and me Robby might wonder why we don't include him. It's just that I get so little time with just Chubby and me, I want to savor it. Plus, we just had that harrowing experience and we should be together for a while trying to get things back to normal, if that makes any sense. I don't want my last significant memory of Chubby and me being that cluster fuck that never happened, and thank God it didn't too. Robby texted right back saying he knows how the family thing goes and he'll see me later. Then he adds that his shoulder still might be a day away from being ready to service his boyfriend properly, but he knows Dodger did a hell of a job substituting for him. I text back that Dodger may have exaggerated his substitution role, but he was okay although not nearly as good as his older brother. And we texted back and forth like that for a few minutes. The Red Sox are up by six runs in the seventh so Chubby stretches and says, "I'm gonna take a shower and put on clothes worthy of Ken's Steak House. What time ya wanna eat?" I check my watch and see it's five o'clock so I say, "Let's meet at the Jeep at six," and Chubby goes, "Sounds like a plan, dude. See you then," and he rubs my head muttering, "Luv ya, bro," then leaves, with me watching him go. I shoulda said, "Right back at ya," but the sincerity in his voice when he said, 'luv ya, bro' took me by surprise. We're so close, and that's such a comfort to me. God, I love that boy."
I wander upstairs and into my bedroom to get naked, thinking about Robby and me doing it tomorrow. He said he needs another day; I'm pleasantly surprised his shoulder's healed enough this quickly, although I guess the trainer did say Robby would notice a big improvement in a couple of days. If Robby hadn't re-injured it we'd have been back in the saddle by now. Jeez, I'm looking forward to that. Ray and Dodger were nice diversions, but Robby's the real deal for me. I bet he's rushing his recover 'cause he misses our sex as much as I do. Damn, I hope he does! During my shower the Parker's Park debacle sides across my conscious mind, but I shake my head and bury that thought by thinking about Robby and me again. I wish I could be more true to him and not stray so much, but it doesn't diminish my love for him. If anything it enhances it because my guilty conscience makes me reach for a higher level of devotion to Robby. Something's working between us, and his little indiscretions with that little turd Ryan Wilcocks relieves some of my guilt. I can't imagine it's a very intimate sexual situation between those two, just a recreational fuck once in blue moon, plus Robby's getting his dick sucked regularly because that little weasel, Ryan, nags Robby to let him do it. Probably less of a intimate deal than Ray and I had because I kinda like Ray. He let down his guard asking if I'd be boyfriends with him... haha, no thanks, but it was kinda cute of him to ask. When I come out of the bathroom Chubby's sitting at my desk tapping his fingers. I go, "Ah ha, you were hoping to see me naked again," and holding out my arms, I go, "Ta da! Take a look." Chubby makes a face, saying, "I've seen your naked body all my life, Dylan, and while it's truly an awesome body, I don't need to see it right this second." I'm stepping into boxer shorts noticing that Chubby doesn't have on clothes for Ken's Steakhouse. I ask, "Didn't you shower yet?" He mutters, "Yeah, I did, but..." and he points to his cell phone. I walk over and look at it; there's a text from Sam. It reads: 'Jeffrey, I had a shitty weekend, but you can turn things around for me. Come 'n get it!' I mumble, "Oh, shit. She can wait until after we have dinner together." Chubby starts his con job by putting his arm across my bare shoulders, soothingly saying, "Yeah, she probably can, but I can't. I'm sorry, Dylan, really I am, but you understand the needs of a horny boy. Don't you?" Of course I do, but I decide on childishness anyway, by saying, "I hate her! She's not good enough for you." He's rubbing my shoulder now, still speaking smoothly like you do to someone who's about the age I just acted like. He goes, "We'll go out to dinner next weekend, just you and me. I promise. Come on, we had a nice time last night and today... well, except for that." I switch from childish to petulance, mumbling, "You'll probably come up with something better that you want to do than have dinner with me then too, but fine. I'll live. Now stop rubbing my shoulder and let me get dressed."
As I pull on some sweat socks, Chubby switches to upbeat, saying, "That's the spirit, and I will definitely not have anything better to do than going to dinner with you next weekend, or the weekend after that at the latest. We got money to spend celebrating your genius at getting us out of that unfortunate situation earlier today." I change to pouting, muttering, "What bullshit." He says, "You're even cuter when you pout. I just noticed that. Ya know, I do believe you're the best looking boy I've ever seen. Anyone ever tell you that?" Continuing to pout while, at the same time, milking-out Chubby's guilty feeling for tossing me aside, I mutter, "What? I wasn't listening to you. I was trying to think where I should eat dinner by myself tonight; probably at some fast food joint." He laughs out loud, saying, "You're beautiful, Dylan. I know you're just trying to make me feel worse about this then I already do. Come on, help me out here, bro. I don't get a chance to get laid very often, even though it's only with Sam it's still getting my rocks off." I'm tempted to say he can get his rocks off with me, but I don't because that's not going to happen again so quickly. Nine months in between sexy stuff between us the last time. I'm hoping to close that gap some, and throwing that remark in his face would do the opposite. Instead I say, "Well, thanks at least for spending a little time with me this weekend." He goes, "Hey, who was the first person I came to when I got back from working at Stop & Shop?" I go, "Yeah, in the middle of the night after boozing it up with the guys at college." Actually I was occupies with Dodger and Vinnie until eleven o'clock so I won't push the lateness of his arrival, and Chubby did come down to sleep with me, which was very nice. He says, "Let's have a brotherly kiss and be friends, alright?" Well, I'm not turning that down, and even though I try not to grin, I grin anyway, mumbling, "Oh, alright if you insist," and he comes over to do what unfortunately is a brotherly kiss. Still, it was nice. "We friends again?" asks Chubby. I go, "Fer chrissakes, I'm not ten years old. Of course we're friends; we'll be best friends for life. Jeez!" He smirks, asking, "You can't stay mad at me, can you?" He's squeezing my neck and I lean into him for a hug, muttering, "Apparently not."
Chubby babbles on about next weekend when we'll go to dinner together and right now he believes it too. Chubby rationalizes and makes plans for future things we'll do together; he does that really well, it's the follow through he needs to work on, but we had fun this weekend, except for that one thing in the park. Anyway, I love it when he sucks up to me with his conman act. If he didn't care so much about me he wouldn't work at it so hard. I can't remember a time when Chubby's disappointed me that he didn't keep at the making-up until we're both smiling again. He's relentless and it probably has something to do with his conscience because he knows full well how much I love him, and he's right too; I can't stay mad at him. I'll surprise Robby and we'll go out to dinner. That's if he hasn't already eaten, but it's only ten of six now, so I'll be back at the apartment by ten of seven. Nice surprises are nice, almost like a present. I drive Robby's pickup back with Chubby following me in the Jeep. We keep a running conversation going on our cell phones. Chubby's excited about our summer job together working for Robby on the grass cutting crew. "Out in the sun getting a great tan, working side by side with you, Dylan. It'll be great... and blab, blab, blab" he goes on about positive things we'll be doing together this summer. He's something; great energy like I always say, but he's concentrating on us presently, which is what I like the most. That puts me in a good mood again; thinking of Robby, Chubby, and me being together this summer. The Dickers will probably do that barbecue on Wednesday night again too and that's alway a great meal, and fun around the pool too. We're older now, but we can still have fun. I drive right up to the main entrance of the apartment complex, then wave my hand at Chubby, who's waving at me as he continues on his way, probably thinking of getting his rocks off. Can't blame him actually.
Parking two blocks away, in the first parking spot available 'cause everyone's home on Sunday night. As I'm walking back to our building I'm thinking, 'Why the fuck can't I ever find a close spot? Damn!' I go up the steps and into the hall of our apartment and notice our door's ajar, which is why we lock it. If we don't lock the door it doesn't close properly, but it is a fairly old building so what do we expect for our money. Coming up to the door, I'm thinking I'll burst in and scare the crap out of Robby, but then think better of it because he might jar his shoulder reacting to the unexpected. At the door I hear voices. Robby's saying, "Ya know what, Ryan, I think your ass needs another workout." Ryan's voice is kinda high pitched like Vinnie's and it makes him seem younger than he is. He says, "You know you'll get no argument from me, even though we had us an awesome time in bed after lunch." Robby goes, "Yeah, we did dude, that was my affectionate sex for ya, I'm gonna do a little rougher recreational fuck on your ass now, get your pants down." I'm standing here in shock. Robby sounds almost as authoritative as Willie. My hearts beating fast thinking, 'Robby fucked him in our bed? An affectionate fuck in our bed!' What to do? I'm frozen in place and oddly afraid of something, but what am I afraid of? I barely touch the door and it opens three inches allowing me to see the two of them standing at the far end of the apartment. Ryan is pulling his sweatpants down, almost to his knees with Robby behind him. "You gonna spank me first, Rob?" Rob? I hear the slap on his ass almost before I see it. Robby says, "Does that answer your question? assume the position," Ryan's rubbing his smacked ass, muttering, "Ow," then, "Yes, Rob, it does," and he bends forward to grab his knees. "Good," says Robby, as he moves to the side of Ryan's ass, an ass that's not particularly special, almost a flat ass. After massaging the left buttocks, Robby says, "I'll work on this cheek, don't forget what to say," and he whacks Ryan's left ass cheek a hard smack, the "Smack!" sound is followed by Ryan saying, "Thank you, Rob, may I have another," and he get's another one. This goes on for ten ass smacks and Ryan's buttocks is rosy red after four; Robby's handprint shows in white on the red ass cheek after each of the final six smacks. Then Robby says, "No you may not," when Ryan asks for another one, and Ryan straightens-up and turns to Robby who hugs him against his body with his good arm. Aww, too bad he can't hug the little fellow with both arms after that spanking. Ryan's a good four inches shorter that Robby and thiner too. Both of Ryan's arm embrace Robby, as he buries his face against Robby's shoulder. Robby rubs the smacked ass, asking, "You okay, Ryan?" There's a sniffle, then Ryan says, "Yeah, Rob... that was a good one though." Robby says, "Well, you insist we go through that charade every time, don't ya?" Ryan's wiping his sniffling nose on Robby's T-shirt, muttering, "It gets me so hot, Rob. It hurts, but look," and he steps back showing his five inch boner. Maybe a tad under five inches; very ordinary looking, and actually I'm surprised a kid with his body size has a cock that big. Guess body size doesn't have a lot to do with it.
So, the smacked ass stuff is Ryan's request? I was almost hoping Robby insisted on spanking him... heehee. Was Robby acting at being authoritative, or was he actually authoritative for real? And, I wonder if the dialogue between them is the same every time too, and why am I even thinking these stupid thoughts? Robby's hugging Ryan like there's lots of affection between them. Again I ask myself: 'What should I do?' I guess there's nothing to do because this is our arrangement, Robby's and mine; an arrangement I was only too anxious to agree to. And me agreeing to it isn't the only reason I've got no right to be pissed-off at Robby, not by a long shot, but of course I am. Plus I'm pissed-off at myself for spying on them, I'm no voyeur, but still I can't make myself look away. Then they kiss and, oh my God, Robby's doing the lick up the front of Ryan's nose, saturating him with his saliva. That's our move! But wait, I kiss other boys every chance I get. I made Connor cum twice from just kissing him. Fuck! I have no right for outrage, but Robby misinformed me about his feelings for Ryan, he said it was strictly recreational stuff, no affection at all; that his sex with Ryan was barely better than jerking off. What a liar! Yeah, lying like me pretending I don't know Connor's gay even though I've fucked him a couple of times, in addition to those aforementioned make-out orgasms of Connor's. And, I've downplayed, a lot, my involvement and sexual frequency with Willie in Key West, downplayed that and the number of other boys I've had sex with, and there's no need for me to go into any of that now either. Minor sexual experiences, that's all they were. Is Ryan a minor one to Robby? It don't look like it and it's certainly not minor to Ryan who's moaning in obvious heat from this make-out. Robby mumbles something as their lips separate and Ryan does another quick three kisses around Robby's face getting Robby to smile and rub Ryan's hair again. And then I'm like,'What the fuck? I just noticed Ryan's hair; it's a buzz cut. When did that happen? Uh oh, it's a shitty buzz-cut reminiscent of the one that kid, Matthew Flowers, in the produce section of Stop & Shop, has. Robby must have cut it for him 'cause I recognize some of the damage around the sides and back of Ryan's head; some of the same damage that Robby inflicted on my hair just before Key West. Hmmm? Moving over I see my barber clippers on the bar; of all the nerve! Without asking my permission to use them too. Moving over a little more I see all Ryan's dark hair on the tile section in front of the bar. That pisses me off too!
Looking back over at Robby and Ryan, I see that Ryan's on his knees now and Robby's pants are below his balls. At least the make-out didn't give Robby a boner. As Ryan's licking Robby's balls I notice a few hair clipping on his shoulder, so this recreational sex is taking place right after the barbering. Humph! It was probably like one of the intimate haircuts I give occasionally, every chance I get. Goddammit! But in all honesty, Robby's not doing anything I've haven't done... and done, and done. Well from now on I'm not gonna be wasting my time worrying about a guilty conscience. I'm back to checking Ryan out and while he is small boned and short, I gotta admit he's kinda cute with that button nose and those silly wire rim eyeglasses that Robby told me get all fogged-up when Ryan gets excited. Robby said something like that during his confession of infidelity. A door slams down the hall and I duck behind the door just as Robby's turning his head to look in the direction of the slam. He didn't see me because I hear him say, "This feels really good, Ryan, you suck my cock great." Then he says, "Ya didn't lock the door though, did ya?" I hear a slurping sound, probably Ryan pulling his eager lips off Robby's cock. He goes, "Sorry, Rob, I thought I did. Do you want me to lock it now?" Robby goes, "Gawd no! This feels too good," and the sucking and slurping sounds start up again. I peek back at them and see Robby rubbing Ryan's newly buzzed hair, muttering, "You have the softest hair, Ry," which is another lie because he said that to me a million times and two guys can't have the softest, only one can have the softest, and why am I dwelling on this stupid point?! The blow job gets Robby's cock sloppy wet and hard. He says, "Get the condom now, Ryan, before I cum in your mouth." Ryan, still on his knees, looks up at his hero and asks, "How come ya never do me without a condom?" Robby says, "Only my true-love boyfriend gets to feel my raw cock. You're my second favorite, but there's only one number one." Ryan goes, "Yeah, and I know who that is too. He's a snob, by the way, but what about John Hammond, what number is he?" Robby says, "Dylan, a snob? Don't be ridiculous, he's awesome in every way, and forget John Hammond, fer chrissakes, he doesn't even warrant a number." Ryan mutters, "Sorry I mentioned him, but I gotta admit Dylan sure is cute. Not as cute as you though, Rob." Robby goes, "Aww, I love a brown-noser. Get the condom, Ryan, I'm anxious to fuck your skinny ass." Ryan chuckles at that and stands up. I'm feeling a little better hearing Robby defend me; I'm no snob, I just don't care for Ryan, that's all. And who the fuck is John Hammond? And I think I'll twist that brown-noser, Ryan's, head off just for the hell of it. John Hammon, huh.... I'll find out who he is. And then I think, 'Hey, Robby said Ryan has a skinny ass, not like my primo one,' which I stupidly feel with both hands. Ryan comes back asking, "Ya think I can ever be number one with you, Rob?" Robby hugs Ryan saying, "Actually you're almost my favorite, Dylan's always gonna be number one though." Ryan asks, "How about equal to Dylan?" Robby's like, "Maybe, if you keep getting me hot and bothered. Anyway, we have almost as much sex together as Dylan and me have, so that's kinda equal. And I promised I'd do something for you when we were in bed, and I'm gonna keep the promise." Ryan squeezes his arms around Robby, muttering, "I love you so much! You're awesome!"
After the hug, Ryan gets a condom out of his pocket and rolls it onto Robby's boner, with a big grin on his face as he mutters, "I love your cock, Rob." There's spit dripping off his chin from sucking cock, haha. Well, actually, there's usually spit dripping off my chin when I do it too, so from now on I'm going to remember to wipe it because it looks... what? It looks sexy, that's what. Damn! Ryan says, "Squeeze my balls hard while you're fucking me, Rob. Ohh man, that gets me so hot!" So, this kids a masochist huh? Too bad I'm not fucking him 'cause I think I could bring the pain for the little prick. They kiss again with dueling boners and then Robby turns Ryan around and gets his good arm around Ryan's chest to hug him back against his own chest. Ryan's hand reach back to hold onto Robby's butt cheeks. Using his bad hand for the first time, Robby lines up his boner and pokes it inside Ryan's ass maybe an an inch or so. Ryan moans way too long, arching his back, then in his high pitched voice, he goes, "Ahhh, yeaaah, Rob, push it in". Jesus! What theatrics. Robby rubs Ryan's little left nipple as he pushes his four inches up Ryan's ass and does a last hard bump against Ryan's butt cheeks, swiveling his hips to get his cock moving in Ryan's rectum. More moans of pleasure from Ryan as the back of his head moves side to side on Robby's shoulder, bumping Robby's jaw. Lowering his good hand, Robby gets a fistful of Ryan's balls and squeezes them hard. Ryan arches his back again and blows lots of air from closed lips making a hissing sound, then a long drawn-out, "Robbbbb!". Again Robby squeezes, I can see the white of his knuckles so he's squeezing hard. Ryan's boner grows harder and begins to move away from his stomach. It's so hard it looks painful, but soon it's sticking straight out from his pubic hairs, the perfect boner. Mine does that too when I'm extremely sexually aroused. Robby's rubbing his nose in Ryan's newly barbered, supposedly softest, hair ever while still holding on to both of Ryan's nuts, although not squeezing. Robby draws his cock out about three inches and pushes it back in, then again and I can see it's going in more smoothly now. Another moan of pleasure from Ryan, then kind of a squeal from him. Robby kisses the side of Ryan's head and does another mighty squeeze on his nuts. The scream from Ryan is followed by drips of precum from his ridiculously hard cock. When the scream dies down to a moan of pleasure, Robby begins really fucking Ryan hard.
Hmmm, I guess his shoulder is a lot better than he inferred to me in his email a few hours ago. He told me he couldn't 'service his boyfriend' until tomorrow. I know now it's because he's servicing his other boyfriend today... twice as a matter of fact.The apartment is filled with the sounds of Robby's crotch slapping into Ryan's skinny buttocks, almost echoing off the sliding glass door of the balcony. They're facing the glass, but I'm watching from an angle so I can see pretty much everything that's going on. Grunts from Robby and moans of ecstasy from Ryan accompany the flesh-on-flesh slapping sound of Robby's crotch and Ryan's ass cheeks. It's a fast, hard fuck alright and Ryan appears in a state of euphoria. I'm transfixed, staring with wide-open eyes, and playing with myself as my dick gets hard. I haven't seen a real live fuck before, a little of it during the three-way with Vinnie and Dodger, but not a complete one from kissing, to cock sucking, to fucking; I never saw that before. Plus, ball squashing to boot. Ryan's cock looks painfully tight, the head is swollen unnaturally with constant precum drops falling on the tile just before the balcony. Ryan's cock is so hard it doesn't hardly move as Robby plows his ass, slamming into Ryan's buttocks and back, rocking Ryan's whole body; his cock like a rock, doesn't move a quarter inch.. Nope, through all that contact Ryan's boner barely quivers except for the lips of his pee slit which are in constant motion as precum continues dripping out. I'd love to have a boner as tight as that. Robby slows down, to catch his breath maybe, he snuggles against Ryan's small body, even using his supposedly bad arm to hug him. Ryan twist his face around and their lips lock. This activity causes Robbie's boner to pull out until just the engorged head is distending the lips of Ryan's anus. The kiss over, and with Ryan overdoing the moaning again, Robby pushes his cock back up and does a steady, but not especially fast fuck. They're both licking their lips and Robby starts his squeaking throat noises, which means he's getting ready to blow a climax up Ryan's ass. This makes him fuck faster and harder and thirty seconds later Ryan's yelling, "I'm getting close, Rob, squeeze my balls again!" Robby reaches down and really squishes Ryan's balls and Ryan lets out another shrill, bloodcurdling scream as cum shoots straight out from his stone-hard cock splashing against the glass doors of the balcony. Then another good long squirt of cum as Ryan's face is scrunched up and he's squealing with pleasure. And holy shit! I gotta admit, that fuck is hot!
Robby fucks Ryan's ass some more as Ryan, his glasses totally fogged over, lays limply back against Robby doing his moaning, quietly now. Robby grunts, mutters, "Oh shit," and pulls out his cock, twirling Ryan around to face him. Pulling off his condom, then kissing Ryan's lips. Right after the kiss Ryan goes right down on his knees and takes Robby hard boner in his mouth and suck on it for just a few seconds before Robby's eyes and lips close tightly, he grunts a huge pleasure grunt, thrust his hips with his head back, biting his bottom lip as he pulls Ryan's face into his pubic hairs, and then another hip thrust as his teen cum drools out both sides of Ryan's mouth. Then Ryan get his head in position to take Robby's cock in his throat. Robby hugs Ryans head, Ryan's face against his groin. Rotating his hips, then pulls out of Ryan's mouth with a big sloppy stand of saliva and cum stringing from Ryan's mouth to the head of Robby's cock. It breaks off to swing down on Robby's balls, but Ryan laps at it until Robby's cock and balls are clean. "Jesus, Ryan! Oh man, that was hot!" exclaims Robby, with Ryan still licking at his balls. "How ya doing, Ry," asks Robby. Ryan looks up through foggy lenses with a big smile, and with cum around his mouth, he says, "My nuts hurt," and they both laugh as again Robby rubs that hideous buzz cut he gave Ryan. Robby goes, "Get up and grab that condom." Ryan immediately does that and slides the thing back on Robby's boner; there has to be precum in there at least. Robby pushes at Ryan's head and Ryan bends over as Robby pushes his cock back up Ryan's ass. Ryan's looking back, his glasses still fogged-up, and ask, "Ya gonna fuck another shot of cum outta me, Rob?" Robby smacks Ryan's ass hard, but doesn't answer; instead he grabs Ryan's hip and fucks him again. He only fucks him for a few more minutes, probably milking the last effects of his climax. Can't say I blame him. Those encore fucks rock.
I'm in a funny frame of mind, confused at how hot I thought that was, while at the same time I'm confused about how hollow I feel inside. I don't know how I feel actually because I'm numb. I'm not even hating on Ryan at the moment, or Robby. Backing away from the door I go slowly down the stairs and out the main entrance to our building, not knowing where I'm going or why I'm going there. I have this strange feeling that I've been punished, except Robby didn't know I was there. Hell, if he knew he would have stopped, I'm positive of that because Robby's not cruel; he'd be mortified if he knew I saw that. It's dark outside, but there are many light in the parking lot. I smoke a cigarette walking around the parking lot while keeping my eyes on the main entrance. I'm not going in until I see Ryan leave. After two cigarettes I drive the pickup to an illegal loading zone spot and turn off the lights to watch the front entrance, and wait for Ryan to leave. After an hour I get out and smoke another cigarette. All this time my mind is separated into three equal parts: it's either blank and I think about nothing except the music on the radio, or I'm thinking that I'm getting exactly what I deserve, or I'm trying to think what I'm going to do about this, if anything. Finally Ryan leaves; it's about eight thirty. He gets in a new, silver, Chevrolet Cruze, which is as nondescript a small car as I've ever seen, and drives it out of a primo parking spot he'd found right next to the main entrance. How the hell does everyone get good parking spots except me? I drive the pickup into the vacant spot, so I got a good spot this time and I only had to wait about two hours to get it. It's a tight fit for the pickup, but it's okay. Now, do I go right in or give it a little time? Hmmm, give it a little time, maybe something will come to me, but I'm leaning heavily towards playing this by ear and seeing what Robby has to say. Damn, that was some random deal alright. Man, Robby sure enjoyed fucking little Ryan. Ya know what? I shoulda hid behind a car and chucked at rock at Ryan's car. 'Oh right, that's just what you shoulda done, ya moron!' I chastise myself out loud. Jesus, it's the kid's mother's car and Ryan really hasn't done anything wrong. He's just letting his dick think for him like I do, and Robby too obviously. It sucks, but it is what it is. I mean, Robby told me he was fucking the little fucker, but seeing him do it is a whole 'nother thing entirely from hearing vaguely that he's occasionally doing it. Oh man, what a way to end the weekend. I'd go get something to eat except I'd lose this parking spot, fer sure.
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinkat20@yahoo.com
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