Sunday morning, lying in bed at seven o'clock, I'm hoping to fall back to sleep. Willie left a little before midnight, and I still smell him on the sheets. He fucked me in my bed so nice last night, and I still have a wonderful squirmy, warm feeling in my ass, and since it happened seven hours ago, that's impressive.
Yeah, my ass feels so excellent it makes me wonder if I'd ever feel this sexually satisfied if I were straight. I can't imagine I would; of course, I'll never find out because I'm not straight. You can't pretend you're gay and then pretend you're not. You also can't pretend you're in love and then try to pretend you're not when you are.
So, I'm stuck being in love and gay. I have a problem with the being in love part because I might be double in love. I'm in love with Willie and may be in love with Robby, too. He's certainly lovable, as is his personality, voice, looks, and everything else. I haven't noticed any mean streak or moodiness in Robby. It's more like, yes, Dylan, is this okay, Dylan?" I love you, Dylan... That's Robby Dickers.
I don't want to hurt Robby or Willie, but I can't see myself being a two-faced, two-timing, selfish bastard stringing Robby or Willie along just for sex. NO! I won't do that, so I've got myself a severe problem here, and I haven't a clue how to resolve it.
The thing is, I'm weak. I don't want to be a two-faced, two-timing bastard, but at the same time, I'm saying I can't envision giving either of them up, and that's a contradiction right there. Robby is very new to gay boy sex, but that's part of the magic of him, part of what's so special about him. I've more or less lusted after him for the past year, which covers months before I even acknowledged to myself that I was gay. In those days, I wanted us to be good friends. Then, discovering I'm gay, and discovering five months later that Robby is too, and finding out he has a crush on me... well, come on! Who's tough enough to blow that off? Not me, that's for damn sure.
Then, I love Chubby as my best friend of a lifetime. I love him more than anyone else, but without the deep sexual intimacy I have with Willie, and now Robby, too. Well, it doesn't look like Chubby and I are ever going to have that kind of intimate sexual relationship. Hell, I don't think Chubby's gay, not entirely like I am, anyway. We do have the deepest brotherly love ever in the history of modern man, though, so we will always have that going for us.
>Willie doesn't know anything about Robby, but Robby knows I have a boyfriend named Willie because I told him I do. Even though he's never met Willie, Robby's told me he's jealous of my relationship with him. He says he's jealous, yet he doesn't know the true nature of our relationship in that he doesn't know Willie and I are in love. Robby is so innocent when it comes to love, even more innocent than I was five or six months ago. He's such a sweet kid; he says he likes to do stuff for me. He wants to be the bottom, submissive guy to me the way I am for Willie. Yeah, I'm versatile in that regard.
Well, more accurately, Willie insists on it, so... So okay, Willie's got a few issues, but who doesn't? There's some nonsense in Willie's head, but it can be fun sometimes. The way he's so serious about the nuttiest stuff, that's fun and funny at times. Plus, on the serious side, Willie is brilliant and has done more things in his life than anyone I know. Plus, he's not just some cute, funny kid. He is that for sure, but he's also an athlete, a good dancer, intelligent, and he has a hot convertible car, and he buys me expensive gifts. What's not to love... haha? But I'm being silly; it's all the obvious things about Willie, plus some subconscious thing in my brain that made me fall in love with him. No, I can't articulate it; it's just there.
I'm in love with him, and that's all there is to it. Strangely, it's almost like I had nothing to do with it. It just happened. So that's where I'm at; what the hell will I do about it? How do I keep both Robby and Willie? Who can I say goodbye to? Ohmigod!
>Thinking about these things while lying in bed, I did eventually fall back to asleep. The next thing I was aware of was the sun shining brightly in my eyes and Chubby rubbing his hand back through my faux flattop, saying, "Awww, ain't he cute," and when I opened one eye and smiled at him, he muttered, "Get in late again last night, did you? You're turning into a real tomcat."
I groggily mumble, "What does that mean? Tomcat?" Chub says, "Come on, sleeping beauty, we need to make Sunday breakfast," he gets one arm under my neck and the other under my legs to pick me up and drags me from under the covers. I put my arms around his neck and hugged his head against mine, saying, "I love you, Chubby." He dropped me, and I slid off the side of the bed as he stage-whispers, "Goddammit, Dylan, your mom is right on the other side of that door!."
Oh man, Chubby and his paranoia! I say, "Kiss me, bro," and he gets angry for a second, then laughingly helps me off the floor and kisses my cheek, asking, "Are you happy now, ya homo?" He smelled so warm, so yummy; I said, "Oh bro, kiss me on the lips, not my cheek!." He was back to, putting his finger to his lips, "Shhhh! Come on, get dressed."
I love Chubby. He leaned on my bathroom door jamb to watch me brush my teeth, take my pee, wash my face, and finally, we're both back in my bedroom. I pulled on some wrinkled cargo shorts, and Chubby tossed me a sleeveless T-shirt that I pulled over my head. Stepping into some sandals, I was ready to face the world.
"Look at these guns on me, bro," I challenge Chubby as I make fists, showing off my biceps. Chubby makes a muscle in his right arm, and I was surprised to see his muscle definition. I go, "Dude! How'd you get so toned?" He laughed again and said, "Washing windows is not a job for weaklings," then we went to fix breakfast.
This morning, it was waffles with real maple syrup, Jimmy Dean breakfast sausages, and honeydew melon. As usual, I walked the three blocks to Dunkin' for the coffee while Chubby put the sausage in a frying pan, got out the waffle iron, and gathered the stuff to whip up the waffle batter.
During breakfast, the Moms flipped a coin to see who was going out with Chubby and me for our first behind-the-wheel, live driver-training action. Tris lost the coin flip, so she's first, and then Chubby and I flipped a coin to see who would drive first. Chubby, of course, won, so he'd try his hand at driving first. I'd be in the backseat with my fingers crossed, hoping he does well. I'd also have a tight seatbelt around me with my feet against the back of the front seat if he doesn't do well.
When Chubby was settled more or less, Tris, in excruciating detail, explained what every gage, button, and hole on the dashboard and steering column were, and how each worked. Then, done with that, Chubby changes seats with his mom, and she says, "Before you start the car, show me your learner's permit, Jeff." By the look on Chubby's cute face, which I could see in the rearview mirror, I knew he'd forgotten to bring it. He lied, "It's in my wallet, Mom."
>We drove home and got it. "Start her up, Chubby." Yeah, then, I suppose we made the same goofy mistakes all young people make learning to drive. We were all stressed out after an hour and a half. Later, no one felt like cooking, so we ordered Domino's pizza. Then, Chubby and I were in the basement on the recliner, watching the Red Sox, and, like in the old times, Chubby was against my side, and I emotionally felt close to him. We've done everything together our whole lives; learning to drive was the most recent thing. I put my arm around his neck and hugged him, and Chubby didn't stiffen up; he molded into my side.
I'd do anything in the world for Chubby, and I never wanted to hurt his feelings, but remembering the beginning of our driving lesson made me all of a sudden burst out a laugh. Chubby says, "You prick, you better not be laughing at my driving," and he started laughing too, but to save face, he also got me in a headlock. We wrestled on the recliner until we both had a hold on the other, and it turned into the sweetest hug we've had since sleeping in that double bed in Wildwood. I thought about Willie and me hugging each other as we slow danced at the block party, and I wanted so badly to do that with Chubby. Swaying to the music, our faces side by side.
I said into the side of Chubby's head, "I love you. Chubby," and he mumbled, "Me too, bro," and we hugged a little longer until Chubby said, "Okay, my homo best friend, time to be real," and we broke apart with me saying, "You're the homo, you started it." Chubby smiled and said, "We're both homos, Dylan; you know that as well as I do." He said it in such a pleasant, matter-of-fact way I didn't know how to take it. I wanted so badly to tell him I was gay, but I was afraid.
Yes, afraid. Not afraid we wouldn't still be best friends forever, but afraid we'd be a different kind of best friends after I said it; like maybe the fact that I'm gay would change things. We'd be best friends but with an asterisk next to our friendship or something. Taking a chance Chubby might be gay was too big a chance to take when our perfect friendship might hang in the balance. I couldn't make myself say the words. Chubby went upstairs to his condo after the game, and for a while, I concentrated on the smell of him on the arm I'd had behind his head.
I'm not a pervert jerking off every two minutes, but in bed with just my boxer shorts, I was speculating how it would feel for Chubby and me to be dancing together, wrapped in each other's arms, and then after that, I thought about Robby and me making out, and then what about Chubby and me making out... oh my God! My boner was too hard to ignore, so I stroked it while thinking about the reality of Willie and me making out, and in a short while, I clenched my jaws together, curled my toes up tight, humped my crotch up off the bed, and shot a hot stream of cum on the clean section of the sheet. Damn!
Now, I had to roll over to the crusty part of the sheet where my climax from the other night had splattered and dried. Hey, as it turns out, it's not too bad sleeping under cum-dried sheets; it's very homey. After the climax, I went to sleep quickly because student driving is a bitch, and I was all tuckered out.
>I didn't see Chubby Monday morning because he left early for work, trying to impress Ricky. Then, the Monday morning bus rides are the gloomiest of the week. No one likes Monday mornings very much. I smoked a cigarette while walking from the bus stop to the Dickers Landscaping offices and garages. Before walking through the door, I popped a stick of Doublemint gum in my mouth to cover my cigarette breath. I said good morning to Mr. Dickers and Toby, who were having coffee together in the lobby, talking about something that had them both laughing. Maybe they were writing Joel's work evaluation. If Mr. Dickers hadn't been there, I would have been groped by Toby, but that's okay. Yeah, I've grown to like Toby.
The first line of lockers in the worker's locker room is for the foreman, and Joel was there with a fresh haircut, looking scary as usual. He looked up as I tried to sneak by him. He crooked his finger for me to come over to him, and when I stood straight in front of him, saying, "Good morning, Joel," he said, "Good morning, Newman. We're definitely on for this Saturday. I almost had to postpone it again, but I managed to work around a problem."
As my balls shrunk, he looked at my hair with a frown. Balls! I tried to stand taller, coughed nervously, and averted my eyes. Pinching hairs in the front of my head, Joel snarled, "These have got to go if you expect me to show an interest in you, and we both know you want my interest in you."
I didn't want confrontation, so I said, "Yes, Joel." He was in a mean mood this Monday morning because he tugged on those hairs so hard tears ran down my cheeks, and at least six or eight hairs were pulled out of my head to drift down to the floor, and that fucking hurt! I didn't complain, though. He mocked me by mimicking the way I had said, "Yes, Joel" Then, in his normal voice, he said, "You need a strong hand on that bubble butt ass of yours. This weekend is something you desperately need. You'll agree that it's been good for you even before it's over."
His tongue poked out the side of his cheek as he said, "Do you give head? I'll bet you do!" He grabbed my jaw and, moving it back and forth, said, "Don't worry too much about Saturday night, but you'll hate it." He laughed a mean-spirited short laugh. He took hold of my lower lip with his thumb and index finger, pulled it out, and then ran his little finger against my lower gum, saying in a nice manner, "Seriously, Dylan, I'm betting by Sunday afternoon you'll have forgotten all the nasty stuff from Saturday night and be concentrating on pleasing me while enjoying yourself at the same time. This will be good for me, too. I like helping twinks learn how to survive happily. You'll be fine." Letting go of my lip, he smiled, and mumbled, "You don't have a clue, do you? I'll take care of you. Don't look so worried," and he patted my cheek.
There was some sour taste in my mouth from Joel rubbing my gum with his little finger. It was gross! I'm feeling humiliated again, but he was almost nice to me today. Still, I've decided to get out of the overnight thing with Joel. I had talked myself into getting it over with, but it'll never be over if I do it once. I'll confide in Willie and see if he has any ideas. It's weak, mainly because Willie will be in Maine with Larry and Carl this weekend. I just have this crazy idea that Willie would know what to do. I felt that way because he knew what to do about things in the past, and I expected him to have an answer to this.
Walking away from Joel, the college guys saw me, and one yelled, "Stop! Bobbsey Twins require a morning inspection!" This is one of their routines. They tease Robby and me that we're the Bobbsey Twins, and sometimes they'll do this mock inspection. Clayton says, "Hmmm. Okay, good, you stayed away from all barber shops as instructed. Same baby face, check, same skinny body, check. Let me smell your breath," so I did a long exhale right in his face, and Clayton says, "Ah ha! You've been chewing gum again. Take it out and put it on your nose; no gum chewing." I put the wad of gum on my nose and was then allowed to pass. They're good guys, and I heard one say to others, "They're good kids," meaning Robby and me, so the feeling is mutual.
>Changing at my locker before going down to Robby's, I thought about all the reasons I did NOT want to confide in Robby or Chubby about the Joel problem. The number one reason is the solution might be tremendously disruptive to Dickers' organization. To have this pervert-nutcase, Joel, forcing an underage kid to spend the night with him, with those cock rings and banded balls or whatever it was Joel had said is in store for me, that news gets out and gets blown up even worse than it already is, and then the newspapers and radio/TV guys are asking what kind of a company would have such an employee, and blab, blab, blab.
Telling Chubby brings out the gay situation, and if I tell Joel directly to fuck-off, he's going to snap out, and I could end up seriously hurt or dead. That doesn't reflect too well on the company either, as police will want to know how a boy got so beat up he died. I've already tried discussing this with Joel logically, but he rejects what I say out of hand and won't even consider that I don't want it, whatever "it" exactly is. I mean, I know he's going to fuck me; that goes without saying, but the other stuff. What's that all about? The discipline stuff he says I need, or whatever the hell he's talking about.
The Dickers have been too nice to Chubby and me for me to allow their company to get blown up with a scandal, one that Joel would claim I brought on myself. And what would my Mom think? Plus, my being gay complicates it even more. I feel totally helpless, and of course, the underlying thing is I need the money from this job. I still owe more money for the rest of this year's auto insurance. I'm fucked, except I'm betting Willie will come up with a solution of some kind.
>I'd almost convinced myself I would not need to spend a night with Joel, so my step was lighter as I skipped to Robby's locker. I was excited about seeing Robby's cute face and that oh-so-hot taut body of his with that fabulous ass. The ass I'd love to grab a fistful of and then fuck. Damn, I'm getting another boner. I tossed my gum into a wastebasket, then tried to make myself smile for Robby. He heard my footsteps and met me as I turned into his aisle. "Hi Dylan, how'd your student driving go?" I told him Chubby and I were ready for the NASCAR circuit, and then, I ran my fingers through his silky light blond hair and said, "I missed you."
Robby was all over me with hugs and kisses until I murmured, "Maybe we need to be cooler about this. We need to be off to the bat cave before we get caught kissing here." He smiled, hugged me, and we returned to the old locker section, where I told him to stand still. He did what he was told, like a good cub scout, and I got my arms around his neck and kissed him the way Willie and I kissed. Robby's arms immediately wrapped around my waist, hugging me into him tightly. His tongue was very active, and our lips made smacking sounds as we swapped spit. The spit spread as we rubbed our noses together and got sloppy.
Before I could think straight, it turned into a significantly longer period of making out than the two or three minutes we allocated for it; both our cocks were very hard. Robby's cock being short, tended to point straight out from his groin when hard, while mine usually pointed up. I liked bouncing against his spike, and as I worked my arms down from around his neck to grab those fistfuls of ass I mentioned earlier, Robby began to pant in my face, warm, moist, fresh-smelling exhales like an overheated puppy dog.
He was hotly aroused as I got my hand inside the back of his shorts, beneath his jockey underwear, and massaged his bare buttocks as Robby kept humping into my crotch, right on the shaft of my boner. My index finger was running up and down his ass crack, slipping over his hole, which was becoming slightly sweaty. When the pad of my finger was damp enough, I poked it up his asshole to the first joint, then slowly inside to the second joint. I began finger fucking his hole with short one-and-a-half-inch thrusts, making sure to rub right over his prostate. Robby started making these odd squeaky sounds and quietly saying, "Oh, Dylan..." between the squeaks.
I finger fucked him for only ten-seconds or so until he went up on his toes, humped hard into my crotch, then held his groin right against mine, blowing lots of air in my face. I knew what was happening, and sure enough, his sphincter ring closed tightly on my finger as he spurted cum into his underpants, making high-pitched noises, our foreheads touching. His sphincter muscle tightened with each of the ejaculations of creamy teen cum shot off in his pants. It felt weird having his hole close so tightly on my skinny finger.
>Robby collapsed against me after climaxing. He moaned, "Ooooooh...Ahhh..." his face was hot, my finger still up his hole doing little wiggles to scratch his itch. My other hand rubbed the back of his head gently as he rested his forehead on my shoulder. Lots of breathing in between the "Ooooh" and Ahhh" sounds and then, "That felt amazing. That surprised me and felt so good I can't even describe it."
I'd just done to Robby what Willie's done to me a few times, and now I knew how good Willie felt when he did it to me. I didn't want to detract from Robby's feel-good moment by mentioning Willie's name, so I didn't tell him it was Willie and his cohorts who taught me that way of getting a guy to cum in his pants. It was a nice thing knowing how much pleasure Robby felt from me finger fucking him. He was clinging to me, and it was like I was helping him the same way guys, particularly Willie, had helped me along in my early gay days.
So, that was excellent, except how would I get myself 'off' this morning? I didn't feel comfortable whacking off in a locker room lavatory stall like Robby did last week. We walked back to his locker with my balls still loaded with cum, which can be distracting. Robby was so relaxed he was joking about the cum in his pants being wet, cold, and feeling yucky. At his locker, he dropped his shorts and his underwear and stood there with his pecker and balls hanging out while he fished in his locker, saying, "I know I have some almost clean underwear in here somewhere." His penis was shriveled up after the climax and couldn't be more than three inches long. His short dick made his regular size nuts look bigger than they were.
>Huh, he might have the smallest cock I've ever seen on a teenager, and yet he appeared totally unconcerned as he made didn't hurry getting his underwear on. I stared at his dick, remembering how it tasted when I sucked on it in the truck last Wednesday. Hell, I want to suck on it right now. At least suck off the cum that is still drooling from his climax. We heard some noise up front, so Robby quickly slipped on underpants now, grinning at me, muttering, "whoa..." Then the put on the Dicker's Landscaping shorts, T-shirt, and baseball cap, the outfit we work in.
Walking outside with our lukewarm coffees, I realized we'd missed the morning massages. Jeez, getting Robby to blow a load in his pants was so hot, though. Taking a sip of my coffee, I smelled the shitty odor on my finger and went back inside to wash it, thinking how everyone's shit smells the same.
While working, I thought about Robby, and every time I looked up, he was across the lawn or at the pick-up truck, always busy doing something worthwhile. It made me realize what a hard worker he was. He was a conscientious kid at school, at work, and at play. I had this odd feeling thinking about him choosing me to love; it was all so wicked sweet and made me feel proud. I'm pleased and proud he chose me.
When I wasn't thinking about Robby, I thought about tonight after work when our driving instructor would pick Chubby and me up at the condos. Chubby's mom started us, and now a professional driving instructor is taking over. An older woman with a reputation for being a hard grader and nasty, like she hates being a driving instructor. It was a bad break being assigned to her.
After thinking about that, I'd think about my date coming up with Willie on Tuesday night and how important that can be. Of course, I'm referring to my hope he can come up with a solution to my Joel problem. When I thought of Willie, I usually wound up thinking about my guilty conscience for cheating on him, and then I'd get depressed because I didn't know what to do about that. Willie or Robbie? They're so different, but yet I can't conceive of telling either one that I won't be seeing them anymore.
I ran home from the bus stop after work so I'd have time to shower quickly before the Driver's Education instructor arrived. Outside, after my shower, I met Chubby sitting on the steps smoking. We hugged, and then he said, "You go first this time, Dylan. I went f first yesterday."
After two hours, I drove us back to our condo, where Ms. Overbite wrote some information on a form, and Chubby and I signed it. She ushered us out of the car, and without saying anything else, off she went. Chubby and I rolled our eyes as we watched her turn the corner, and then we high-fived each other and slowly went up the steps to the condos. We were hungry and tired; it had been a tense evening with that woman scowling at us every minute.
Inside my place, Chubby and I did a fist bump and told each other we did great; then, after a quick hug, he said, "She sucks, but I don't care. I only care about getting that license. God! The things we need to do to get it, huh, Dylan?" I sarcastically say, "Oh, it's been a piece of cake every step of the way so far, Chubby." We shook our heads and then got busy fixing our late dinner of Kraft mac and cheese, which we ate along with big fat hotdogs covered in mustard and onions. Lots of orange Kool-Aid, too. We went down to the finished basement to watch the end of the Red Sox game and fell asleep against one another.
Chubby woke me up at midnight, mumbling, "Jesus, look at the time! Learning to drive is exhausting". Then, as we walked upstairs, I said, "How about crashing with me right here for tonight, Chubby?" He moaned, "Dylaaaaaan, you know we're not doing that anymore." I groaned, "Why not?" and Chubby said, "I'm too tired to argue with you tonight. Then a quick hug goodnight and he went up to his place.
>The next morning, the bus was late, and I fretted about that because it meant my time with Robby before work was cut short. After the bus ride, I saw Joel enter the lavatory inside the Dicker's Landscape and Design building. It reminded me that it was this Saturday that I was supposed to spend the night with him, and that reminded me that I needed to try to get Willie's help tonight to somehow prevent Saturday night from happening.
Again, I admitted to myself that I had no idea how Willie could help, but I wanted to tell him about Joel at least. Willie wouldn't want Joel to do whatever he's going to do to me. Willie will know. After changing into work clothes, I hurried back to get as much of my good-morning, eye-opening make-out with Robby as possible. He beamed when he saw me, "I was worried you weren't coming to work today," Robby said in that super sincere manner of his. He reached out his hand and squeezed my arm as if to ensure I was there.
Damn, this is something awesomely new for me, being special to someone. I'd thought Willie made me feel special, but with Robby, there was a different feel; it seemed more genuine, without pretension or something like that. Is he innocent and naive about his apparent infatuation with me, or is it simply puppy love? I honestly don't know, but Robby is investing a lot of himself in our relationship so far, and I feel a responsibility not to disappoint him. I wish one of us knew what we were doing, though.
>I mumbled that my bus was late and nodded toward the way-back locker section. Robby grinned and said, "Let's go!" I didn't finger fuck him this morning, and he didn't cum in his pants, but we both got our boners, and we both had red faces covered with spit when we headed back to his locker and our lukewarm coffees that we'd left sitting on the bench. The bell sounded for work, so we drank the coffee in the back of the pick-up truck, exchanging glances and smirks that had at least one of the Hispanic guys frowning as he tried to figure out what was happening.
That probably would have concerned me a few months ago, but now I figured it's his problem. The work day flew by okay, with an unseasonably nice eighty-degree temperature and easy lawns to cut. The tough lawns are the ones on the sides of hills. We'll be doing those on Thursday, and that's no fun but doable. I enjoyed working outside, with Robby always in the vicinity so that I could catch a look at him from time to time.
After work, Robby and I did our massages, snuck in a few kisses, waved goodbye, and I started walking toward my bus stop. It's good that today wasn't an extra hot one because Willie was meeting me at the bus stop, and I'm sweaty after extra hot days. Earlier, I washed up in the lavatory and am in reasonably good shape. He's taking me to that barbershop where he first got all his beautiful hair cut into the silly nineteen-fifties-style flattop, a unique haircut choice.
I have a funny feeling in my balls because getting a haircut is almost a sexual thing with me lately. Maybe I'm developing a fetish. I don't know about stuff like that. I'm mostly unrealistically expecting Willie to think of a way I can get out of spending that night with Joel. My life would be so much better without Joel in it. Willie's waiting for me in his convertible. I walked over to his car slowly, allowing the bus to get around the corner before I got in the passenger seat because I expected Willie's kiss and would rather my bus companions not see that.
After our hello kiss, he tells me I'm a sexy-looking worker bee, and after he ruffles my hair, he says, "You sure about this haircut, Dylan? You don't need one, and I thought you wanted to let your hair grow out to a longer hairstyle, like me." I grudgingly say, "I don't want to, but..." my eyes teared up like I was eight years old. I turned my head. Willie asked, "What is it? What's wrong?" I muttered, "Come on, Willie, the barbershop might close before we get there."
Willie said, "We aren't going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong." I whined, "I'll get in trouble if I don't get a short haircut. Now, c'mon!" He asked, "In trouble with who?"
Well, I was going to tell him, right? It's only Tuesday, so I can get a haircut to satisfy Joel later this week. I took a deep breath and said, "I hope you can help me." I started, "At my job, there is this horrid person," but Willie held up his hand and said, "Hold off until we get to my house. Too much noisy traffic, and it's uncomfortably humid." I nodded, and Willie drove to his house without us talking.
After parking at Willie's huge house, his arm goes around my waist, we start walking. I'm getting more and more nervous. This is humiliating, and what do I expect Willie to do about it anyway?
To be continued...
