Recently, I've had to switch things around in the fantasyland part of my brain, changing an item from the fantasy column to the reality column. I've had a crush on Robby Dickers for two months, and he, out of nowhere, told me he was gay and had a crush on ME. Since we were doing our sexy massages for one another, I shouldn't have been shocked that he was gay, but it was too good to be true, and then it got even better! He wanted me to fuck him, too, which I did, and he made it seem as if I'd done him this huge favor. WOW!
After the sex together, Robby's been looking at me with those beautiful, big, blue eyes like I'm something special. It's a strange feeling having someone looking up to me. It's almost like he's put me on a pedestal. The whole situation is weird. First of all, it's always seemed odd to me that he would act shy or lack self-confidence because he's popular at school and co-captain of the baseball team. It'll be cool seeing him coming out of his shell when he recognizes his accomplishments.
I was outside my condo, sitting on the steps, smoking and contemplating those thoughts, while Robby, Dodger, and Chubby were inside, screwing around with a video game. I'm the only kid in New England who doesn't like video games. I play them once in a while, but...
Anyway, it gave me a jazzy buzz in my nuts to be the top guy for Robby. That was a brand-new sensation. Those guys at Willie's prep school are probably right about the dominant/submissive stuff. With me, Willie is in charge, which makes sense since he has all the experience. And now, between Robby and me, I'm the experienced one, and to be honest, it's cool to be the top guy.
I hear the guys coming downstairs and outside; Robby asks, "Ready to go, Dylan?" I nod, and we all piled into the pick-up truck. We're going to DQ for soft-serve ice cream. Robby's driving, so I got in the shotgun seat, with Dodger and Chubby in the backseat. We did that without thinking about if it was correct that I should be sitting up front. Then I wondered how old I need to be before I stop thinking stupid shit like that? I tried to read Robby's facial expression, and after a bit, he glanced over at me, did a shy grin, and looked away. Huh, I used to do that with the Marine. I don't want to be anything like him.
During the ride, Robby and I didn't say much because Dodger and Chubby never stopped yelling over each other about who's the most valuable Red Sox player this year. I thought some more about this wonderful recent Robby situation, and it occurred to me that I've had the same look in my eyes for Willie that Robby has when looking at me. And, Goddamn, I remember looking at fat Carl that way. Not recently, however, which made me realize I've outgrown my infatuation with him. He's good-looking but fat. When did he drop off my radar screen?
Carl always remained the bossy, dominant one between us. And Willie is doing a little of that with me now. What am I to make of all this? Well, maybe this is just the order of things, the way it needs to be. It's like, if you let someone boss you about one thing, they'll think they can boss you about something else, and before you know it, you both accept it as just the way things are.
We were all waiting in line at the DQ, Robby beside me. He's grinning and purposely bumping against me now and then and showing me adoring eyes. Jesus, what should I do? It can be very flattering and possibly addictive, but it also makes me feel protective of him, and I guess I felt a bit like a big shot, too. Yeah, I know that's dumb, as I told myself. The problem with my sense of being protective of Robby is he can be more protective of himself, physically, than my best efforts in that regard. I can be protective of his feelings, though.
Later, eating our ice cream cones alone, Robby whispered, "You're so cool, Dylan. Since you asked me to write for the school newspaper, my life has been more exciting and fun. Do you think we can have sex again tonight? I'll bet no one could do that for me as good as you." His free hand was constantly touching some part of my body, and he stayed in my space, almost on top of me. That was getting me aroused. Robby Dickers might be in love with me, and I might be in over my head again, too.
It was a little overwhelming because I wasn't sure how to handle the situation. I didn't even know what to say. I kept giving him smiles and smirks and head nods. I should have been trying to clarify our relationship by telling him I had just as much of a crush on him as he said he had on me. That's what I should do. I should clarify that I'm almost as much a novice at being a so-called top as he is a so-called bottom.
Neither Robby nor I should be more in charge than the other. In the meantime, there were guys and girls all around us, so Robby almost sitting on my lap made me uncomfortable. I finally mumbled, "Please back off me a little, Robby." His face immediately turned red, and he became very contrite, "I'm sorry, Dylan. I'm new at this boyfriend stuff. You need to tell me what to do."
Holy shit! How often have I said, 'I'm new at this,' in the last two months? Man, this is weird. I told him he was doing fine but just cool it when other guys and girls were around us. "We're secret gay guys, Robby, and we should keep it that way for the foreseeable future. Do you agree?" He nodded. Of course, he nodded, then said, "Oh, Jesus, yes! You're right. I'm sorry!" He moved away about two feet, asking, "Is this okay?" I think he was being a smart ass.
Chuckling, I mutter, "Maybe another foot away would be better." We laughed, and then, seriously, I said, "Hey, I'm not trying to boss you around, and you don't need to say sorry every two minutes, either. We're cool. And you're awesome." Moving closer to me, he smiled, "Thank you! You're so nice, and I, um, think you're wicked cute, too, if that's okay to say. Just tell me when I'm fucking up. I learn quickly." I squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks, Robby, but bro, you're cuter and more handsome than me. I feel lucky to be your secret sex buddy."
He blushed again as I added, "And maybe we should put all this mutual admiration society stuff on hold for now." He looked chastised again, and again I felt I handled it wrong, and said, "I mean me, too. I wasn't blaming you, um, we're good, Robby. really good!" Thank God we both laughed at ourselves going overboard, trying to please one another. We're nerds, but that's cool...
I feel wildly lucky to have both Willie and Robby wanting to explore the world of gay sexual pleasures with me. Robby and I will learn together, and I'll learn from Willie. I'm not telling Willie about Robby or Robby about Willie. That may be selfish and unfair, but I don't care now. I can't give either one of them up, and I'm almost positive Willie would say I can't keep Robby, so for now, I'm not telling him about anything.
If my conscience becomes a problem, I'll confess to Willie and accept his wishes because I love him. Anyway, Robby might lose interest in me next week, so for now, I'll enjoy his hero worship. Ha-ha, if I'm not getting ahead of myself, calling it hero worship. Whatever I call it, it's the coolest thing that's happened to me since Carl showed me my sexual nature.
What I needed to do right now, though, was move Robby and me over with Chubby and Dodger because we're one group, and Chubby's too attuned to me. He'll pick up that Robby and I are up to something, and he probably has already noticed that, but maybe not. At a picnic table, I found Chubby chatting up two of his girls from school. How does he know so many girls? Willie calls girls that hang with gay guys 'fag hags,' not that that has anything to do with this.
When we sat down, Chubby bumped fists with me, "Dylan, dude. You know Kathy and Regina, right?" Regina said, "Dylan's dreamy. He was in my homeroom last year. Is he your brother, Jeff?" We get that a lot. Chubby straightened that out, and then Dodger, for laughs, gave an example of how looking for compliments can backfire on you. He says, "An older woman standing nude looking in the bedroom mirror says to her husband, 'I look old, fat and ugly. Can you compliment me to make me feel better about myself?' The husband says, 'Well, let me think. Oh yeah! Your eyesight is pretty good for someone your age."
Dodger's jokes blow and are usually too long and never funny. I groaned and lit a cigarette as Robby accidentally, on purpose, leaned against me. He felt nice, so screw it; I decided to enjoy him this way and worry about changing him later. After a bit, we were all getting bored with the DQ scene, so we headed back to the pickup. Robby and I got there first, and he asked, "Do you think you could kiss me like you did before?" This is ten minutes after my lecture about not being too obvious we're gay!
He was so sweet, though, so after looking around and not seeing anyone looking our way, we kissed, but only for half a second. As it turned out, Chubby and Dodger didn't show up for five more minutes. Robby spent that time telling me about his crush on me, going way back to the end of our sophomore year. As I've already said, it was so flattering, and then I got this significant swelling of emotional feelings for Robby. He's so easy to like; I wonder if love might be around the corner. Yeah, but will I fall in love with every guy I kiss?
Later, Robby dropped Chubby and me off at our condos, and we sat on the steps and smoked as Chubby laughingly told me things Dodger had been doing and saying. As I listened, I was thinking to myself that thank God Dodger wasn't telling Chubby about fucking me in the pool weeks ago. He's keeping his word that that's our secret, and yes, it's occurred to me that my secrets are piling up.
In bed, I contemplated this latest development with Robby when something else occurred to me. I need to find out what kind of sex life Robby and Dodger have together, if any. The gay North twins and their interest in gay sex came to mind, and another stiff boner popped up while thinking about three-way possibilities with the Dickers brothers. But would I even want to do that?
Then there's the curious case of Chubby refusing any of his and my intimacy. No more mutual jerks off, leg humping, or whatever. He calls kids' stuff and doesn't want to do it anymore. Why not? That's what I need to find out. Why the recent reversal of intimacy between him and me? It has to be connected to whatever is going on with him and Ricky, or could it involve ALL the window washer boys? That doesn't seem likely, as the law of averages makes that almost impossible. All the window washer boys couldn't be gay!
Getting tired, I concluded that this line of thinking was a dead-end street at the moment, so I went back to thinking about sex with Robby. When I fell asleep, though, I was thinking about Willie.
The following day, it's off to work. I'm bringing Chubby's and my swimsuits and towels because it's Wednesday, which means the Dicker's barbecue and pool party. During the morning bus ride, I split my contemplating between Willie and Robby. I was thinking about fucking Robby and worried Willie would somehow find out about it. The most likely way he'll find out is by me telling him. I think about the nice things Willie's bought me, the love he shows me, and the fact that while he's ill, I'm cheating on him, and I can see myself with a humongous guilty conscience telling Willie about my cheating. Oh, man, though! Robby is so hot! He has such a great ass, and he expects me to fuck him tonight, but how the hell could we do that with Chubby and Dodger there?
In the locker room at work, everyone I ran into seemed to be in good spirits this morning, but I was primarily curious about Robby's mood as I hadn't spotted him yet. Stashing the swim gear in my locker, exchanging mock insults with the college kids, and then sauntering to Robby's locker, I watch him pulling on the Dicker's Company T-shirt. The Dunkin' Styrofoam take-out cup of coffee he buys for me each morning was on the bench behind him. I said, "Yo, Robby. Good morning, and thanks for the coffee."
He jumped, then whipped around, saying, "Dylan! Hi!" He had a big smile, his eyes shining, his teeth sparkling, his scent sexy in the air, and he was altogether one yummy gay boy. A yummy gay boy with a crush on me, no less. I smiled back and picked up my coffee, telling him, "You're looking good like you always do." He looked away and mumbled, "Thank you." He was treating me like a big deal, acting like some underling. Even though it was way wrong of me, I liked how it felt and decided what's the harm of playing along for a while. I'll be conscious not to get too carried away being a big shot.
I drank some coffee, then said, "Are you ready for your massage?" Robby dropped his shorts and sat down in his jockey underwear. Hmm! I had to blow air quietly from my puffed-out cheeks because his short cock was poking out the piss slit of his boxer shorts. He sat there patiently waiting for me to start. At first, I casually ran my fingers through his hair, it's like silk, as I massaged his scalp with my fingertips for half a minute. Then, with the palm of my hand on his forehead, I pulled his head back towards me and the back of his head against my crotch. His eyes closed, and he moaned softly through slightly parted, perfectly formed, full, rosy, colored lips. There were a few minuscule perspiration dots on his upper lip, and his shoulders quivered under my touch.
Robby is as cute and good-looking as possible and still looks boyish, but his cuteness is different from, say, Willie's. Willie is cute, but in a gosh-oh-gee, goofy kind of way with his longish head and cute nose with those freckles where his nose scrunches up when he grins or smiles or laughs. Willie's cute, alright, but in an entirely different way than Robby's pretty boy; cute looks with his facial features near perfection and perfectly proportioned. His eyebrows are narrow, and his eyelashes are long but not too long. Pick any feature on Robby's face, and it'd be hard to improve.
Willie will never be considered handsome as an adult man, but that's what Robby will grow into a handsome man. My best bud, Chubby, is cute in a half-Robby-half-Willie way, emphasizing Robby's type of cuteness. Chubby is even more boyish-looking than Robby. Using my parameters for cuteness, I couldn't say where I stand in that regard, but some guys find me acceptable by their cuteness parameters; everyone's are different, and some are very different than mine. Willie's parameters, for example, have me high up his idea of a cuteness scale; other people's parameters, not so much, I'd imagine.
Whatever the parameters, Robby would have to be included in anyone's evaluation of cuteness unless they're from another dimension or a different species or something. I took another deep breath and exhaled quietly, calming myself down, and then, roughly, pushed Robby's head forward to massage his shoulders, the back of his neck, and up the back of his head. His docile behavior, his eagerness to please, his cuteness, everything had me feeling very horny and hot. Forgetting the massage, I wrapped my arm around his head and pulled him backward while leaning down to press the side of my face against the side of his.
I couldn't help myself; he's always been delicious, but he's never said he was gay before. Yeah, well, maybe I feel he's incredibly delicious today because I'd recently fucked him, or perhaps he's incredibly delicious because of the respectful way he acted around me since we had that sex together, or maybe it's everything about Robby that's built-up in me for over a year. Even before I knew I was gay, I had a particular interest in Robby. I was drawn to him before the miracle happened.
He leaned into me as our faces touched; he raised his arms to give me a backward hug around my neck, then turned his head so our faces slid together until the corners of our lips touched, and we kissed. We were lips on lips, and we did a wet, sloppy kiss with saliva spreading from our chins to our noses. We quietly grunted and groaned like animals in heat, which is pretty much what we were. We moaned into each other's mouths while rubbing our saliva-drenched noses together like a couple of Eskimos. My cock was as hard as Robby's, and I thought to myself, the way he tastes, the way he smells, and the way his taut body feels so hot and attractive is almost scary.
It took a lot of willpower to pull away from our kiss, both breathing deeply. I muttered, "We'll get busted for sure if we keep doing this here." Then I put my mouth on his mouth again, and we did a deep, tongue-rubbing kiss that got both our cocks wet. I was looking right down at his four-inch boner poking his jockey underwear straight up from his crotch with a one-inch round wet spot marking the head. Out of nowhere, an unbelievably strong urge came over me, and I desperately wanted to suck his short, perky cock.
I wanted to suck it so bad I heard myself making a weird whining sound in my throat. That sound sort of snapped both of us out of our trances, and we parted lips with a string of combined spit connecting our mouths momentarily before breaking off and drifting down around Robby's chin. He muttered, "You turn me on more than I ever fantasized was possible." In almost a whisper, I said, "We're getting crazy. Someone walks by, and we're 'outed' right here on the job, and that would suck, not to mention the humiliation that could catch our faces on fire. Let's get a fucking grip here, and, oh yeah: know that I feel the same way about you."
Then, unbelievably, after I said all that, we kissed again. How stupid can we get? This time, Robby pulled away like he was almost in pain, and he grimaced, muttering, "I almost came in my underwear. I need some air," and we finally separated. I stepped back, and he stood. We both were looking down the aisles for anyone who might be gawking at us, but it seemed we'd been undetected. Both our faces were flushed. I mumbled, "Get dressed. I'll meet you at the pick-up."
It was like neither of us knew what to say or how to act. This entire past ten minutes was wildly out of control. Man, are we ever dumb? Taking my unfinished coffee, I stumbled to my locker, groping my boner with every step. Boners feel so good. Unlocking the door and, in a fog, pulling out my work clothes. I changed into the "Dicker's Lawn Service" T-shirt and shorts, then went out to the pickup thinking: Damn, I'm so mixed up with this new Robby thing I forgot to get my massage. Yeah, well, I need to get a grip on myself.
Then I noticed Joel leaning against the pick-up door, so I put the cigarette away that I was going to light. He gave me a stern look and an almost cordial greeting, "Morning, Newman. Did I tell you that I like your earring?" His unexpected civil behavior took me aback, but I managed to mumble, "Good morning, Joel. Thank you, I got this earring in Wildwood."
He nodded, looked around, and stepped over to me to put an arm around my neck, his face close to mine; he said, "Sorry if I came on a little too strong yesterday. You're doing alright of late; keep it up. I've got some things planned for our over-nighter that you'll enjoy. Believe me, you're going to understand yourself a whole lot better after our time together. A week from Saturday, we'll leave directly from here to my place." He gave me a three-by-five index card and said, "Here's the address so your parents will know where you'll be. It's my duplex, and the phone number is on the back."
I looked at the card dumbly, then put it in my back pocket; my mind totally screwed up. I couldn't adjust my thinking from the unbelievably hot scene with Robby to this insanity. He pulled my head next to his and hugged it against him, then said, "This is a private thing between you and me; no one on the job is to know. Right?"
I was having trouble following everything he said; he made me so nervous and uncomfortable. I coughed, and he said again, "Alright?" so I gulped, "Alright, Joel." He hugged my head against his jaw once more and said, "It'll be hard for you at first; I won't lie about that, but in the end, you'll love it. Don't forget to get your haircut before our weekend together, though. Think of yourself as a basic recruit. Adapt your attitude. Plus, no body hair at all. Have you got that?" I didn't know what else to say except, "Yes, Joel." Nodding, he says, "I'm beginning to think you're going to be good at this, really good." one more squeeze of me, and he sauntered away.
I lit a cigarette with shaky hands, took a big drag, and then a gulp of lukewarm coffee. My heart was pounding too fast. That supposedly mystery deal with Joel is less than two weeks away. Maybe I should go and get it over with once and for all? He seems to be getting nicer; he seems to like me a little bit. Maybe that's the best way to handle it. Willie will be in Maine that Saturday, so I'll get this ordeal over with. Then Joel and I can be friends. Yeah, right. Bullshit. Okay, I've got to work up the courage to ask a few questions and learn a little about what I can expect that weekend.
I've got to do at least that much beforehand. I mean, obviously, he's gay or bi, like the Marine, and he wants to fuck me because he thinks I've been cock-teasing him into doing that. What an egotistical idiot thinking I've been sucking up to him so he'll fuck me. Good grief! I've been fucked by Carl and Larry, and it felt pretty damn good, though, so maybe I can just chalk this up to experience. I know Joel doesn't have a huge cock like the Marine because I've seen him pee, and while his penis is bigger than mine, it's not by much. So, okay! Maybe that's what I'll do, and then I can stop worrying so much about him and that overnight, whatever it is.
To be continued...
