Robby dropped us off after Wednesday's pool and barbecue outing. Chubby and I are sitting on the steps outside our condos, smoking and feeling pleasantly stuffed with fantastic food and watermelon, enjoying the quiet after a night of constant chatter with the Dickers brothers.
Silently, I'm doubting my decision to blurt out to Chubby that I'm gay. I don't want this secret between us to go on, but I'm not sure what the right thing to do is. We've been too close for many years to keep this massive secret from him. Plus, I need someone to confide in, and I have faith that Chubby will be super supportive no matter what he's dealing with in the window washer boys' situation. I've been working up my nerve to tell him, and here goes, "Chubby, I know this will shock..." He interrupts, "Dylan, excuse me, but I need to get something off my chest."
"Huh? What is it, Chubby?" Maybe I'll finally discover what's happening with the window washer boys. Chubby says, "Um when you were off getting the watermelon, did Robby take you to a dead-end road and try to get you to do something with him as he did me last week?"
What the fuck? Have I finally entered the Twilight Zone? The possibility of Chubby and Robby having some gay sex together had never entered my mind. I began stuttering and sputtering, coughing and sneezing. Chubby says, "You okay, bro? Here..." Before I could say anything, he cupped my mouth and squeezed closed my nostrils, using both hands to hold my head against his chest. You could smother a person like this. It's also our cure for hiccups, and I guess Chubby figures it might also cure all my other afflictions.
My mind was going a mile a minute thinking back to the barbecue and trying to rationalize why Robby would approach Chubby the way he did me.He was still depriving me of oxygen, with me squirming to free myself while still trying to think of an explanation for the dead-end road scenario. When Chubby let me go, I breathed deeply, without any coughing or sneezing, but I had no response for the dead-end road and Chubby. He said, "By your reaction, I'm assuming you did it with him, and I don't care, except it can lead to serious shit."
Something isn't adding up. Clearing my throat, I mutter, "Serious shit? Whaddaya mean?" He shrugs, "I was curious why you didn't say anything about it. You and me, bro. We've got no secrets. I'm sticking with booze and an occasional cigarette, and that's all." It's dawning on me that he's talking about something other than sex. What the fuck? My breathing was normal as I realized he was referring to blasting a roach, Maryjane. I ask, "Robby smokes marijuana? You're shitting me. He's on the baseball team; he's an athlete, for Christ's sake!"
Chubby says, "Oh, good! So he didn't try to get you to blow some weed with him. Damn, he kinda nagged me to do it with him. What the hell's with that?" That is curious, but what a relief! Holy shit, I thought for a second that Robby and... I say, "No, he didn't drive to a dead end, Chubby. Um, but what if he did? What's the big deal?"
He says, "Well, I felt guilty not telling you. You know, mentioning it, and then I thought it was odd you didn't mention it to me, and, I don't know, I thought there was some secret shit developing with the Dickers. I don't like when someone gets between us. That's all. I guess I made a mountain out of a molehill, but..."
I'd never guess Robby was smoking marijuana, but I couldn't care less. I love how concerned Chubby was that maybe Robby was getting between him and me. Well, Rickie inserted himself between us, but the background story of that has yet to be told. Chubby inferred that there is a story and one that deserves payback, so I'll see about that. Meanwhile, Chubby's mumbling, "I don't want to see you turning into some tea head or something."
I love it when Chubby's looking out for me. I grin and nod, but my stomach feels funny as the full realization of what a disaster it would have been if Robby had taken Chubby to the dead-end road for sex. Grateful that catastrophe was avoided, I've got to wonder why Robby never mentioned he smoked marijuana to me and why, instead, try getting Chubby to smoke it with him. Could it be that Robby was trying to loosen Chubby up with the doobie so he could maybe bring up doing something sexy with him?
Putting the puzzling marijuana incident on the back burner, I felt love in my heart and did a tight, extemporaneous hug on Chubby, murmuring, "Thanks for looking out for me." He muttered, "Always, Dylan. It's a shocker that goody-two-shoes Robby Dickers smokes grass, huh?" We stand, and I mumble, ''Totally."
In bed, I thought about how I didn't tell Chubby I was gay. Jeez, and I'm glad I didn't, too. Too confusing with Robby smoking grass and trying to get Chubby to do it with him! What the fuck is that all about?
Then, screw that. I think back to sucking and fucking Robby earlier tonight and realizing there's more to him than I thought. Sex with him felt so good, though. I'm going to ask him about the pot, but not in a challenging way. I'm super curious why he didn't ask me to smoke with him because I'd do it without giving it a second thought. Lots of guys and girls smoke pot. Big deal!
Then I fantasized about what I'd do with Robby next time. Haha, we'll smoke some grass, and then I'll suck him off until he cums in my mouth, and then I'll make him cum again with a long, juicy fuck. Oh, boy, Robby's asshole is so tight, tighter than Willie's. Oh, Goddammit, there I go again. I think of Willie, and there's that damn guilty conscience of mine ganging up on me again.
Hmm, I need to do something to make it up to Willie. Do something special for him without him knowing about the cheating. How am I going to do that? I'm not sure, but somehow, I need to do something extraordinary for him to ease my conscience. Maybe I'll be extra submissive, playing that idiotic sub/dom game with him. Willie will love that. Now that I'm thinking about Willie, it makes me wonder what I like more: Willie fucking me or me fucking Robby.
Oh man, I love when Willie fucks me. He has a way of making me feel like the most desirable, most perfect boyfriend in the world. The way he wraps me up so tightly in his arms and legs! Yeah, so tightly I sometimes get claustrophobia, but still, it's fantastic. He's pretty strong, but it's not that so much; it's a feeling like he can't get enough of me. Or maybe he thinks he's just showing me that he's dominant. He never says one way or another, just wraps me up in his arms and legs, and when he feels like it, he'll fucks me again and sometimes leave his dick in my ass, and I'll get to thinking I belong to him. It's a gooey, sexy feeling that I love experiencing.
The last thought I remember having before falling asleep is: I think I like Willie fucking me better than me fucking Robby, but what about Robby fucking me. What would be my favorite, then? This is fun, thinking about having sex with my two boyfriends. Then, the blackness of deep sleep... and maybe a dream that I won't remember in the morning...
Thursday, when my phone alarm goes off, I wake up groggy because I'd stayed awake contemplating my sex life way too late, but it was fun! I get up and do my morning bathroom routine like a zombie, then run for my bus. At work, the first person I saw was Joel, who got his arm around my neck like he's been doing lately. I've learned the best thing I can do is be docile for him because he's MUCH too strong to try struggling away. He said, "Come with me, Newman." He smelled clean and fresh in his embrace. He walked me to his favorite out-of-view alcove.
In the alcove, Joel showed a little of his true feelings for the first time. He said, "You look very nice today, Newman," and he pulled me up against him, chest to chest, his hands on my buttocks, grinding his crotch into mine. My penis is stupid. It lets anyone's stimulation turn it into a boner. I didn't want to get a boner from anything Joel did, but it happened anyway. When he felt me get hard, he took his right hand from my ass and groped my boner, saying, "You'll be getting even harder next Saturday night, and then I'll tighten a cock ring at the base of your little shaft, real tight. After that, I'll band your nuts at the top of your scrotum so you can't cum, and then we'll begin your training."
I'm hypnotized. I swear to God, I'm hypnotized! Lying against him, my arms loosely around him as he murmurs in my ear, his lips brushing it, "You'll have a boner for hours, begging me to let you cum. Does that sound intriguing? These past weeks with you longing to be with a real man will come true for you. That's right, nestle against be. Maybe I'll remember to take the band off your nuts before you become a eunuch. Random, huh? I'm kidding. Don't worry."
His hypnotic voice was coming from far away, sounding like an echo, but I didn't know what he was talking about; all my concentration was used to imagine I was in a bathtub of ice water because I did not want Joel to make me cum in my pants. I was praying that an ice-cold bathtub visual would help me avoid climaxing. Unfortunately, his powerful hands were so good at massaging my cock and balls I felt precum dripping in my underpants. I was finally able to murmur, "Please, Joel, don't make me wet myself. Please don't make me cum."
He chuckled for the first time since I'd met him. and said, "Keep that exact tone of submissiveness in your voice during our weekend. It'll serve you well. You want me to stop, do you?" I murmur, "Yes, please, Joel. I'll be good next weekend." Still lightly massaging my hard junk, he asked, "Are you ready for our overnight training session? Are you looking forward to it?" I say, "Yes, Joel. I know I need it." He continued squeezing and stroking my boner, saying, "Don't forget the haircut; I liked that last haircut you got." I gasp, "Yes, Joel, but please, I'm just about to cum."
He stopped his massage and chuckled again as a last grope squeezed out another spurt of precum. I couldn't stop myself from making a quiet moan at how good that felt. Joel, sounding stern, said, "Open your mouth," and I opened my mouth. He could put his thumb on my tongue and murmured, "Close and show me how you're going to suck my cock." I did a half-hearted suck on his thumb, which made him pinch my buttocks hard and snarl, "Suck it like you mean it."
He'd pinched my ass so hard tears formed in my eyes. I must be a pussy because that took away any last resistance I was prepared to put up. This guy is so strong it's sick! I felt increasingly submissive to Joel, as if I needed to please him, but I was letting him down. I moved my tongue around his thumb and sucked it the best I could. It didn't taste good, but I'm not sure what it tastes like.
After a minute, he murmured, "Good," as he pulled his thumb out. He wiped it up the front of my nose and said, "You need a lot of training, but I felt you slip into the mode you need to be in. You became noticeably submissive, which I expected. That was good, but you'll experience a few deeper levels that will put you in a dream world. You'll do well."
He wiped the rest of the spit from his thumb on my forehead, saying, "You'll eat lunch with me today, and I'll tell you more about what I'll be doing for you." In a deep funk, I murmured, "Yes, Joel," and just like that, he was gone. I was breathing deeply, my heart pounding. As I steadied myself with a hand against the wall, I trembled a little because she scares me; he really scares me.
Walking back to the locker room, my underpants wet with precum, I'm thinking that there's no way I can avoid the weekend with him. Not if I want to continue working here. It's a close call that I quit the job or go with him and get it over with. Thirty-six hours with Joel. I hate that I feel this way, but there was a point near the end of this morning when I felt that dreamy-sexy sensation he mentioned. I'm susceptible to dominant monsters, it seems. And I need the money from this job. I can't let Chubby down.
I'm not quitting this job. Could I tell on Joel and maybe get him fired? That would mean coming 'out' as gay, and perhaps I wouldn't be believed about Joel mistreating me anyway. He's been with Dickers Landscape and Design for four years, and they like his work. Joel is infatuated with me, so he's not going to do anything to injure me seriously. He wants me to like him and become his, um, his something. His 'boy' or something crazy in his head. And I did get that delicious sense of dreaminess when I let myself be captured by him just five minutes ago. It's a survival thing. I felt safe when I gave up all resistance to him. My dick got hard as granite. Omigod!
I need to stop thinking about Joel! His overnighter is still ten days away. Walking to the back of the locker room, I intercepted Robby, who looked so cute this morning. He can get me out of this funk that Joel put me in better than just about anything. He held my coffee out to me with one hand and did a little wave with the other. I took the coffee and said, "You're looking awful good this morning, boss." He reached behind my head to pull my face over and licked up my chin, up and over my lips, and up the front of my nose, leaving behind a trail of coffee-smelling spit.
I gasped as he pulled his face away slightly, looking worried that I might get mad, but I grinned at him and stuck the tip of my tongue out at him. His eyes got big, and he moved his head slowly back to mine until our lips were together. We kissed for a minute before I came to my senses and pulled away. "Robby, you're nuts! We'll get caught." He smirked, and we went right back to making out. I'd kiss his bottom lip with both of mine, pulling his lip out a bit, and then he'd do the same to my bottom lip.
We exchanged as much saliva as we could, and it was drooling down both our chins before long. I was still holding my coffee, so I only had one arm to hug him. Our boners bumped against one another in our cargo shorts, and our moaning was maybe loud enough to be heard in the front part of that big locker room.
I got some sense in my head and again pulled away from his lips, but this time, I whispered to him, "You make me crazy, Robby. I love how you taste." We kissed two more times and then straightened up and caught our breath. "It's like I'm in one of my dreams, Dylan. I've daydreamed and real-dreamed about you for over a year. It's so lonely being a secret gay boy with a crush on someone who you think is straight. And then to be with this dream boy named Dylan Newman. Do you see why I hardly care about anything except being with you? I'm living my fantasy, Dylan. It's even better than my fantasy."
He was so earnest I had to grin at him. I could eat him with a spoon. How am I going to ruin this moment by mentioning Chubby and the marijuana thing? The answer to that question is easy: I'm not! Fumbling the top of the Styrofoam cup, I gulped coffee and looked into his eyes again. He's looking at me like I'm a rock star, and I consciously tell myself not to get a big head. Willie and Robby are spoiling me beyond belief. I felt tremendously flattered that, by some twist of fate, I have two cute-beyond-belief boyfriends when I didn't even realize I wanted a boyfriend a mere five months ago.
After another sip of coffee, I said, "Robby, we've got to be smarter than this, okay?" Smiling, he murmurs, "Whatever you want, Dylan. Can we do the massages?" Ha! Can we do the massages? Does a dog lick its balls? Of course, we'll do the massages.
We only did quick massages, though, as time was short. How could anyone be yummier than Robbie? It's not possible, right? And yet, I'm still in love with Willie, who is pretty yummy himself. I'm finding out that love is a powerful thing. Still, I don't want to give up my delicious gay buddy, Robby, to do sexy stuff with, and I definitely do not want to give up my sophisticated lover, Willie.
Walking out of the building to start our work day, Robby stayed too close to me, and the same was true for the ride to our first job site. On the job, we weren't close to each other because we had different responsibilities, but we did exchange a few smirks during the day, and late in the morning, we were emptying grass into the bins together, and he said, "Jesus, dude, you look sexy. Any chance you could give me a quick fuck at lunch?"
I can't believe it, but I pulled one of Chubby's paranoid stunts by looking around to see if anyone was close enough to hear what Robby had just said. He laughed at me, and when I realized I was playing the part of paranoid Chubby, I laughed, too. It was fun being near Robby while we worked. I'm sure this is too soon for love to be involved, but I've definitely got a thing for Robby Dickers.
Joel nodded at me at lunch, and I got my lunch bag, following him. Then, fate stepped in, and Toby called Joel over to discuss scheduling while they ate lunch together. Yippee, I ate with Robby and the other two on our team, who mostly stayed to themselves. Recently, the extra crew consisted of Hispanic men in their late twenties, who were pleasant enough guys, although their English wasn't good. I'm not criticizing because my Spanish is much worse than their English!
After finishing lunch, Robby and I walked to the trash can to dump our trash, and I asked, "What about smoking pot, Robby? Chubby said..," and he interrupted, "I should have said something to you, Dylan, but I didn't think you'd be interested. I asked Chubby to try smoking grass with me. Billy Ryder sold me a joint, and I wanted to try it, but Chubby said no."
I shrug, "I'll smoke it with you." He made a face and mumbled, "Dodge stole it and smoked it himself. Not with me; he smoked it by himself. I swear, he's out of fucking control..." and we both laughed because we couldn't get mad at Dodger. He's a wild kid.
After work, Robby and I went far back to the old locker room section and made out for ten minutes. We were both close to climaxing in our pants by the time we worked up the common sense to stop. On the bus ride home, I thought about Robby's making out compared to Willie's and decided they were different, but both were scorching hot, and I couldn't choose one over the other. Of course, at this point, I haven't been with Willie for two weeks now, so maybe he's better than I remember. The most important thing for me to remember, above everything else, is not to get cocky just because I have two cute boyfriends at the same time.
I wondered how awesome it would be if Robby and I could date like Willie and I do. I don't see that happening because our brothers hang with us all the time. I'll be at driver training Friday night with Chubby, and I've got my Saturday date with Willie to look forward to, so I'm good this weekend. Still, a date with Robby sometime would be so cool.
As soon as I got off the bus, I jogged to our condo and went directly to the mailbox, and there it was: my learner's permit. Chubby's was in their mailbox, and we're both good to go now with driver training—finally, the first step toward our driver's license. We'd totaled up our money right after Wildwood and had more than enough to pay for our auto insurance, so our moms added us to their policies. We applied for the permits, and here they are in the mail.
It's a good thing they came today because, as I said, Friday is our first driver training class, and the following Monday is our first time on the road with an instructor. It's exciting to get a driver's license, and we're finally getting nearer to that day. We don't expect to drive to school from day one, but sometime during the first month of our senior year, Chubby and I will hopefully pull up to high school in our car, a convertible. I stared at the learner's permit and felt like a little kid on Christmas morning.
It's a rite of passage thing, and we're late to the party because of a lack of money. I can't wait to put everything behind us and be like every other kid my age. Chubby and I turn eighteen this Fall, but we'll still be seventeen when we get our license, thank God. How embarrassing being eighteen when you take your driving test. For almost every guy and girl, that's unthinkable! Even Dodger's getting his permit in the next couple of weeks!
Chubby came running into my condo five minutes later, excitedly waving his driver's permit at me. I'd put it back in his mailbox, knowing he'd want to discover it himself. We hugged and danced around, excitedly telling each other what we already knew: that we would start our classroom work tomorrow night, and on Monday, we would start driving lessons. We're in the same class.
It was a Red Sox night on TV, and tonight, Chubby watched the game leaning against my side on that oversized old recliner, almost like in the old days. He fell asleep before the game was over, and I got to hug him around his neck and rub my nose on top of his head. Jeez, I'm totally addicted to how he smells, his personal natural scent. It's more familiar to me than my own smell because I don't notice my own if I even have a smell of my own.
Tomorrow was Friday, another early work day, so I had to wake Chubby for bed immediately after the game. He was groggy during our goodnight hug, so I took advantage and kissed the side of his head. No comment from him, but I know he knows I kissed him. I love that boy.
To be continued...
