Chapter Seven
Carl is my sex mentor, so I'll ask him for advice. Find out if I'm doing anything wrong or anything right. I don't know why I often think badly about Carl, calling him a fat fuck and all. He's been good to me, and when I call him, I'll tell him I appreciate everything he's done for me.
When Chubby got home from his job, we had a quick dinner, then we went to the movies. Friday night at the eight-screen Movie Multiplex is a popular night for the movies, and we ran into some of the window-washing boys there. Thankfully, one of them wasn't Rickie. The three guys Chubby introduced me to were okay guys. Two are still in high school, and one dropped out in the tenth grade. All three seemed like rougher, tougher guys than Chubby and me. They also were on a mind-altering substance tonight: marijuana or something. They were all very loud, calling Chubby Jeffrey-the-Giant. Maybe they sarcastically called him Giant because he's shorter than them. Or maybe they're just all hopped-up-druggie assholes. I'm glad we're seeing different movies. Standing in line for popcorn, I saw Robby Dickers in another line and waved.
He got his popcorn and came over to say hi. His younger brother, who he introduced as Dodger, was a very cute fifteen-year-old with a great smile. I stared at him, thinking I never used to look at other boys like I do now. Thank you for that, Carl.
We did a quick handshake, and I introduced Chubby, who was nice and friendly like always. Robby looked so fresh with his beautiful, pale complexion, dark rosy pink blotches, one on each cheekbone, and blue eyes with that light blond hair. I put my hand in my pocket to rub my semi-hard cock a few times. Robby asked what day we could get together next week to discuss his job as a sports reporter for the school newspaper next year. We decided on Tuesday.
Robby and Dodger's movie was about to start, so we split up. Watching them go, Chubby mumbled, "Wow, rare to see a guy take his little brother to a Friday night movie." I mumbled, "I guess so, Chubby, but fifteen is only two years younger than Robby and us." We saw a comedy tonight that got Chubby on a roll laughing, which was contagious, and we had a great time but were exhausted from the laughing by the end. On the bus going home after the movie, Chubby comes out with, "Don't get all bent out of shape, Dylan, but after work tomorrow, the boss is having a barbecue cookout at his house, and there is no fucking way I can get out of going."
He was looking out the bus window when he said that. Looking over at the back of his head, I know the boss is the foreman, and the foreman happens to be Ricky Ortiz's father, and I know that this means I'll be by myself all day Saturday and Saturday night, too. But I also know I've got to stop being a baby about this kind of thing. And I like Chubby too much to make him uncomfortable, so I said, "Just to be up-front about everything, Chubby, I hate that job you got, and I hate that psycho Rickie, but I'm fine that you've got to do what you've got to do. Have fun."
With that slight grin on his lips, he turned and looked me in the eyes, squeezing my hand, "Thanks for understanding, bro." During the rest of the ride home, he told me all the reasons he wished he could get out of going to that barbecue, and you know what? I didn't believe a word of it.
Sleeping on Saturday morning felt great. I got up about the time my Mom got up, which was around ten o'clock. We had a nice breakfast together, and then she went off with Tris, Chubby's mom, to the Spa for their hair and nail appointments and then clothes shopping. I'm so happy my Mom has such a good friend in Tris. Friends make life special. After thinking about it for an hour, I finally said, "Fuck it!" and I called Carl. He was surprised to hear from me. He seemed reluctant when I asked if I could come over and talk with him. "Look, dude, I spent all that time being a mentor for you, and you didn't appreciate it. Now, without any warning, you call me up and want to talk? What's up with that?"
It took me a few minutes to admit to him I was an ass. I apologized for not telling him how much I appreciated all he's done for me and talked him into seeing me. After ending the call, I was surprised at how much I really did want to talk with him. I only feel comfortable discussing this type of thing with him because it's gay, and Carl's the only person on Earth who knows I'm gay.
Anyway, Carl did say I can see him, but I should bring a condom. I said I would, but I'm not going to because I don't want him to fuck me. I want him to mentor me about the sex I've had or almost had. He won't fuck me without a condom, so I'm not bringing one. If he has one of his own, what the hell? I wouldn't mind all that much if he screwed me, but I won't encourage it. The last time I was fucked was almost a month ago, and it was with Carl, who is still the only one who has ever done it with me.
Since then, the Marine sucked me off twice, and I sucked him off once. Those blow jobs are the only sex I've had in a month, which hardly qualifies me as a sexually active gay seventeen-year-old. I want to discuss this with Carl, especially about the Marine. Carl is much more experienced and older than me, so getting his input could be helpful.
While making lunch, I felt proud of myself for calling Carl and, for once, initiating some help. I need to get someone else's impressions about the Marine. I've decided never to see the Marine again, but I'd still like to understand my reactions and attraction to him. Carl can help me compile information for if I ever encounter this situation again. I want to be prepared, like the fucking Boy Scouts... BE PREPARED! Carl told me to come over at four o'clock because his parents and sister would be at the Mall then, and he expected them back by six o'clock, so we'd have two hours.
Giving myself plenty of time to get there by four o'clock, I started walking to Carl's, admitting that this might be a waste of time, but there was always the chance Carl had some insight about my relationship with the Marine. I haven't given Carl enough credit for showing me my gay nature, and he deserves credit for the information about sex, about Ivy League college applications, and about lots of other stuff he's helped me with. It's a half-hour walk and Carl opened the front door as I went up the front steps.
Wow, it was surprising to see Carl's improved appearance. He had gotten a nice tan during the senior class trip to Florida, and he also managed to clear up his zits. He also had a new, stylish, short haircut. He looked good, but he hadn't lost any weight and might have put on a couple of pounds. The seniors graduate next week, and then two weeks after, the rest of us get out for summer vacation.
I smiled, saying, "You're looking good, Carl." He muttered, "Thanks." Even though no one was home, Carl wanted to go to his room, and that was fine, except his room was a sloppy mess. Not that it mattered, but I wondered why his room was a mess now but impeccable the last time I was here. He told me that after graduating, he'd be leaving for the family's vacation home on the ocean in Maine, and they'd be there till the end of August. His aunt, uncle, and cousin share the place with Carl's family. I don't know why he's telling me this, but the good thing is, he told it to me without his old nemesis, bad breath. He's shaping up, and if he'd lose weight, he'd be hot.
To follow up on his small talk, I told him the latest news about the school newspaper. Then, he wanted to know what mentoring I needed. Not leaving anything out, I told him about the Marine and me. He groped himself, and I got a stiffy. The whole affair was sexy-hot, and I'd had no hesitation about admitting that to Carl. It's the scary lack of control part that I was mostly concerned about, and Carl was a good listener. Still, when I was done, he made a face like he was considering all sides of this and then theatrically rubbed his chin, considering how to explain it all to a dope like me.
Once he got started, I was afraid his lecture would never end. He pontificated about dominant/submissive relationships, how the master/slave relationship is an extreme example of that, and how castration and all kinds of things are possible when just the right submissive individual gets under the control of just the right dominant master. He said that it was dangerous for guys just to put themselves under the control of these dominant types because they could find themselves with a dog collar around their neck, eating out of a doggy dish. On and on, he lectured, giving examples of how he felt a person should react at the first sign of a dominant move by another. No, not to reject it totally out-of-hand, but to compromise so that both parties understood what the other was willing to do or tolerate.
Carl played with himself through his sweatpants while giving examples of dominant behavior. I thought he seemed to know an enormous amount about this topic, but he must have realized the same thing because he stopped, frowned, and then explained how he only knew this stuff from reading about it online, and blah, blah, blah. He felt he had to justify himself as being a top-only, never being the bottom, which usually indicates a dominant personality, although he claimed he was flexible. That's confusing because being flexible means you'll be a top or a bottom. For all I know, he may have talked himself in circles.
He then switched emphasis away from himself and instead chose various points from my story that demonstrated my extremely submissive behavior toward the Marine. Most of what he said made sense, although some of the castration and extreme master/slave stuff seemed a bit over-the-top, but...
He told me that when he and I first started together, he'd gotten the mistaken impression I was playing more of a dominant role, but as we went along, it was obvious the submissive role was what I wanted him to play. More blah, blah, blah, and I told him I didn't know we were playing roles. Carl just shook his head and said, "Lack of good communication will fuck you up every time." He somehow blamed it all on me, which sucked because I didn't know what he was blaming me for. My head went in circles when he stood up and declared I should get the picture by now. He'd already provided much, much more information than I wanted to know or could understand, so I was happy he was done.
Well, I suppose it all confirmed what I had more or less thought about what worried me the most: having no control at all when I'm with the Marine. Overall, on the plus side, all the information Carl provided was somewhat comforting because it demonstrated that my relationship with the Marine wasn't without precedence. It was, in fact, not especially rare within the gay community. I wasn't a pussy, and I wasn't a mental case, either. Some guys, such as myself, have a propensity to submit to a more dominant sexual partner.
Carl said, "Lastly, Dylan, your Marine relationship can also be seen in the heterosexual community. The stereotypical woman dressed in black leather with a whip putting the hurt on some poor submissive guy who is on all fours." I scratched my head, not having a clue what he meant by that. Anyway, I was all talked out and ready to go home. Carl has a way of using six words when one would do. All this information didn't solve my problem, but it did help me to understand what I was dealing with, and, as I said, it mostly helped me to know I wasn't a one-in-a-million freak by acting submissive to the Marine. I checked my wristwatch and saw we'd talked for almost an hour.
I said, "Jeez, an hour! Well, I better get going, Carl. Thank you! You're a great mentor for me; you really are, and I appreciate it." He chuckled and sarcastically said, "Where do you think you're going? You owe me a little something that I like to call a good fuck."
All of a sudden, he's acting arrogant and bullish. "Carl, are you implying I have to let you fuck me for you to mentor me?" He made a face, rolled his eyes, and said, "I'm not kidding around with you. Get your pants off, or I'll take them off for you." He's a big fellow, and no one was home, and I'd just told him I was submissive to the tough Marine, so Carl assumes...
I shrugged, "Carl, I don't have a condom. I thought you were kidding about that on the phone." He told me I knew very well he wasn't kidding, "Don't give me that shit, Newman!" Taking me by surprise because he'd never gotten physical before, he came over and roughly pulled my T-shirt over my head, and when put his hand inside the waistband of my cargo shorts, I shouted, "Wait a second! Jesus! I'll do it."
I dropped my shorts and boxers, leaving me naked except for my sneakers. Carl took his time getting out of his sweatpants, then said, "Get those sneakers and socks off, too. I want you completely naked." He pointed and added, "On your knees right there." I took a deep breath and thought, should I make a big deal out of this or humor him? Hmmm? It's not like I didn't think this was a possibility, and I haven't been fucked since he did it for me a month ago.
What's so bad? I murmur, "I want to cooperate, Carl. I'm excited that you're willing to give me another chance. You're the only guy who fucked me, and you do it so good, too." That's not all bullshit, either. Now, I was looking forward to that incredibly sexy feeling again, and then the thrill of sexual climax was a pleasure nothing in this world could match. Carl has to adopt his silly dominant role because of everything I told him, but so what?
He's a big fat kid a year-and-a-half older than me, but right now, he's not too bad in the looks department, and I know I can expect a hot fuck, so I'm up for it. Pulling his extra-large Polo shirt over his head, Carl mutters, "Okay, that's what I expect to hear from you. Hot damn, I like those shaved pubes. Your Marine had a good idea with that."
He dropped his sweat pants, then his jockey shorts with the yellow piss stain on the front. Carl's cock being normal sized, a bit smaller than mine, fits my ass perfectly. I concentrated on that. Like he told me, I dropped to my knees and gently picked up his penis. Sucking it into my mouth was easy, it was already fairly firm. I pretended it was Chubby's cock and sucked away with my eyes closed.
Blanking that thought from my mind, I was surprised at how hard Carl got so fast. He loved to play with and talk about my light blond hair, which is another odd thing that I don't want to think about. Instead, I got into serious cock sucking. It wasn't long before Carl was grunting, then muttering, "Stop, I'm going to cum. Stop!" I took his cock out of my mouth, sat back on my heels, and looked up at Carl's face. It was scrunched up as he concentrated on not blowing his load.
Soon, he relaxed noticeably and then looked sternly down at me. I guess acting stern is part of the role he's playing. "While you're down there, get the tube of KY jelly I have hidden in the cabinet under the sink. It's in the hole of the toilet paper roll, way in the back." I found it and handed it to him, asking, "Do you have a condom without lube?" He said, "Something like that. Get in the bedroom and lay over the side of my bed. I'm going to do you while you're on your stomach with your feet on the floor."
His bed sheets were a mess but didn't smell bad. I lay there, my ass at the side of the mattress and my feet on the floor. Carl spread my legs apart, and then I heard him lubing up the condom on his erection; it sounded like he was jerking off. I would have checked it out, but he had a firm grip on the back of my neck with his left hand, pushing my face into the mattress. More role-playing as the dominant top. Carl didn't hesitate and stayed true to his imagined dominant role by forcing the head of his cock into my asshole, plowing it in until his crotch was right up tight against my buttock. "Ya like that entry, Newman? You get off on that?"
His fat thighs were surrounding my buttocks; his nut sack smacked the back of my trembling nuts. I couldn't answer right away because the pain rolled up my body. Gasping for air, I mumbled, "Please, take it easy, Carl," was all I managed to say as he withdrew five inches or so and then plowed right back up inside me as far as he could go. I was trying to get off the bed after that, but he had a firm grip on the back of my neck with a surprisingly strong hand holding me down.
Another pile-driving slam up my asshole and then another and another; the KY lube really helped, and the pain was fading, and then I felt my cock begin growing under me, and things started to feel better quickly. Carl's throbbing boner was sliding more easily in and out of me, and he took his hand from the back of my neck, knowing he had me now. I wasn't going to miss the good part; in fact, I pushed my ass up for him. He snickered, then began humping steadily, with me moaning quietly; Carl wasn't messing around with this fuck. It felt so good! He grunted with every fast slam up my hole, now with a grip on either side of my hips. Thrust, thrust, thrust, slap, slap, slap. "Ooh, Carl, feels awesome!"
With his grip on my hips, Carl lifted my hips off the bed slightly, pulling me into each of his forceful thrusts up inside me. In only three minutes tops, I felt my balls start tightening up against my body. It felt even better than I remembered, and I knew I was going to blow my load early. Carl had maintained a rapid penetration from the start, and I was right there on the edge of climaxing. I tried to warn him that I was about to spunk his sheets, but it came out like a moan of pleasure, "Carl.. ah Carl Ooh ah... Carl!" and I shot an excellent blast of cum.
Oh, what an incredibly awesome climax, pleasure roaring all over me. I'm shuddering with pleasure. It's awesome to be fucked so good it makes me cum without even touching my penis. It's the best, and I'm so glad I called Carl this morning. I felt a fondness for him as cum was still drooling out of my cock, and he continued fucking my ass. When I blew my load, he squeaked and began humping me faster. After the last climax contractions, he lay on my back and, using both his hands; spread my ass cheeks apart, making them as flat as he could make them, so he could go slightly deeper. Breathing hard, he did short, fast rabbit quick humps for fifteen seconds before squealing like a snatch and climaxing.
He squirmed and rotated his large hips while climaxing... then another hump and a groan as more cum left his cock and then another smaller one. This fat boy was seriously turned on, but it was odd that I felt so gooey and slippery inside my rectum. Did the condom break? Two more weak humps and Carl completely collapsed on me, moaning and wheezing from the effort of it all. It was his best fuck of me. I knew that for sure, and I almost hate to say it, but it was hot. I let him lie on me for a minute or so, but that boy weighed about two hundred pounds, and I finally had to say, "Awesome, Carl, but please, you're smothering me."
He took two big breaths and slowly got off me, pulling his cock out of me at the same time. I made an "Oooh!" sound, and he squeezed my ass affectionately, saying, "I heard you calling my name when you were coming. You forgot how hot I can get you, huh?" He was impressed with himself, and he should be. He gave my ass a damn good screwing, and maybe I wouldn't mind doing it again before he leaves for Maine. Then, a shock when quite a bit of liquid drooled from my hole and down the inside of my thighs. I reached back, thinking, "Lube from the condom?" Then a thicker, creamier substance drooled out, and a long strand of a gooey substance.
I wiped back there, fearing it was blood, but it wasn't blood. It was a lot of Carl's cum. I screamed, "You fucked me without a condom? I'll get AIDS!"
"Yeah, I did you bareback, and it was the best fuck I ever had. And what's more, I'm going to do you again in a little while, but stop with the AIDS bullshit." I shouted, "Fuck you, Carl. You can forget that pipe dream of fucking me again. You may have infected me, and then my parents will know I'm queer!" Using his bed sheet, I kept wiping at the drooling cum until my ass was dry, and then thirty seconds later, more of Carl's cum would drool out, so I finally just sat on his bed.
He said, "I'm not infected. I told you I only fuck my cousin and you. This was the first time with either of you; I haven't used a rubber because I didn't have one, and you were supposed to bring one!" He got me there, but I said, "Still, you should have discussed it with me first." He sat beside me and nicely said, "You're right, but after your experience with the Marine, I thought I could get away with being tough, and you'd do what I say."
My look at him implied, get fucking serious, but I didn't say anything. Carl admitted it was dumb of him, so I patted his back and smiled slightly. "It's all right. That was a damn good fuck, Carl." He said, "Yeah, I enjoyed that sex with you, Dylan." He said his parents would bring pizza home for Saturday night dinner and asked me to stay. We could do this again after dinner? "Please, Dylan. We both enjoyed it, and I think you like me more than you admit. Come on, you cute fucker, let's do it again later tonight."
Well, I had nothing going on tonight. Mom's working and Chubby's at the barbecue, and it did feel excellent getting fucked by fat Carl. Oh, there I go again with an insulting thought. He deserves better treatment from me than that. His stupid role-playing was his attempt to try and accommodate me. Carl isn't a bad guy, so I said, "If you promise to stop role-playing, then I'll stay, and thank you for inviting me. You've been good to me, Carl, I know that. Not just the fucking, but the mentoring and getting me that senior editor's job and other stuff too. Yeah, let's do it after dinner. You did me good, dude!" Carl called his Mom's cell phone and set it up so I could stay for pizza.
We both pulled on our shirts, pants, socks, and sneakers. Carl said, "I know I'm pushing it, but the rents won't be here for twenty minutes at least. How bout I trim your hair for you? You know how hot I am for your hair, and I'm being honest, Dylan. I'm excellent at cutting hair."
I feel tight with Carl now, like we've bonded as true friends. I need a haircut, and Chubby had that almost shaved head, so we wouldn't be having a haircut night for weeks. I said, "Sure, Carl, I'll take a chance on your barbering skills." Cutting your friend's hair is an intimate endeavor, or at least it has always been for Chubby and me. We've done it for years, so the moms don't need to pay a barber.
Carl got me seated on his desk chair with a towel on my shoulder, and with just a comb and scissors, he cut my hair in silence, taking ten minutes to do it. It's the kind of thing that gets me hypnotic and trance-like, listening to the click of the scissors and feeling the comb on my head and running through my hair, and it's a very pleasant experience. Weirdly, I noticed Carl got a boner while cutting, but I already knew he had this weird thing for my hair. Chubby told me there is something called a haircut fetish, so I assumed Carl has that fetish. I can see why someone could develop that fetish. It can seem, at times, hypnotizing to get a haircut.
His mother called up to us, saying the pizza was here, which finally ended the haircut. He gave me a handheld mirror, and I saw that Carl was more of a professional barber than Chubby, and this looked like a real professional haircut, although it was too short. When I complimented him, he shrugged as if it was nothing special. Damn, though, he's good!
He introduced me again to his parents, and I sat beside Carl. We had pizza with his parents and his fat sister, who screamed at Carl that he'd cut my hair too short. Then she came over to run her pizza-greasy fingers through my hair as Carl ranted and raved to the parents that she was out of control and needed some serious discipline. They took deep breaths and ignored it all. It was awkward for me, but I had real feelings for Carl now, so I bumped his arm and smiled so he'd know it was all right.
Later, upstairs, Carl gave me another bareback fucking, and it was one he could be proud of. He made me cum after only a few minutes again. I heard him chuckling when I got frenzied during my excellent climax. He was able to hold back his climax for another five minutes, at which time he humped me so fast, deep, and hard I squirted out another little climax of my own just as he was filling up my insides with a larger load than his earlier one.
We lay on our sides in bed with him still inside me, and after about ten minutes, with our breathing finally under control, he fucked me for a while longer and had another little climax. Not me, but the entire thing felt good while he was doing it. We both were naked, and after his last climax, he enveloped my body with his enormous one, saying, "Did you like that one, Dylan? You didn't call out my name this time."
He hugged me like there was no tomorrow, which went on for quite a while. I kept telling myself to be nice and tolerate it, and I began to like it and snuggled in against him. He murmured, "Move your leg between mine," and I did it. He kissed me, "You're my boy now, ain't ya, Newman?" I nodded because it's nice being appreciated and wanted. He rubbed my head, murmuring, "I want you over here on a regular basis, okay?" I nodded, "Sure, thanks, Carl."
It occurred to me after a while that I was being submissive to Carl, but that was alright; I liked it and was disappointed when he finally pulled his soft cock out of my ass, mumbling, "We need to get cleaned up." My rectum was sore, but nothing major. For the hell of it, I clung to Carl, who smiled and gave me a kiss. His bedroom had a small attached half bath, and Carl had his arm around my shoulders, walking me to it, saying, "I'll fuck you bareback from now on, but you can't have sex with anyone else unless it's protected sex." I nodded, "Yes, Carl."
Inside the small bathroom, Carl stopped me and gave me a very sloppy kiss, hugging my naked body against his fat nakedness, and I sprung a boner. Omigod, I sprung a boner making out with fat Carl. He let go of me and grinned, looking at my boner, asking, "Do you need another hard fucking. I seem to be getting you extraordinarily aroused, hot, and bothered, Dylan." For some reason, I felt meek, saying, "Yeah, you're sexy hot, Carl. I'm hot to do it with you again, but my ass is too sore. Is it okay if we do it tomorrow? I mean, I will do it now if you want, but..."
He said, "No, that's okay. Tomorrow is fine. Here, to hold you over," and he did a one-minute sloppy kiss. I used to hate him kissing me, but now my dick was a rock when he broke off the kiss and licked across my cheek. I gasped, thinking I was going to cum. He has completely won me over as his submissive bottom-sex buddy. I couldn't catch my breath, panting as Carl pulled me against him again, murmuring, "Text me tomorrow. I'll fit you in, but I have a busy day preparing for vacation. How much will you miss me when I'm in Maine?" He ruffed my too-short haircut as I clung to his fat body, my dick throbbing and me frowning, thinking I'll miss this totally.
He said, "Don't worry, I'll invite you for a weekend." Still acting timid to him, I sound like a wimp, mumbling, "Really, Carl? I'd love to see you." We cleaned up and got dressed, then he gave me another long messy kiss, his tongue in my mouth and his hands groping my ass, and I liked it. The half-hour walk home was hard on my sore rectum, but I was mostly shocked at how intrigued I was by Carl. I've got a crush on him or something. It's beyond belief! Fat Carl?
No one was home at Chubby's place or mine, so I locked the bathroom door and took a bath, my first one in a long time. Lying in that warm tub of water, I thought about Carl fucking me tonight and about how good that had felt and about how he was an okay guy, but I'd overdone the snuggling and gave Carl the wrong impression. It's just that in the moment, I let my dick control my brain. I liked the sex, but come on! Snuggling and hugging with all that fat of Carl's... that makes no sense!
When we were lying in his bed, he hugged me, and I groveled as if he were super-sexy instead of a good-looking fat guy. Actually, he has gotten pretty good-looking. Anyway, he told me he was going to lose a lot of weight this summer, and when I saw him in September, I'd be lucky if I could get a date with him.
Carl likes me, and that affects how I feel about him. Everyone likes to be liked, right? I do! Then I thought about the Marine who didn't seem to like or dislike me. I thought about the way I climaxed when the Marine deep-throated me and compared that to the climaxes I had tonight. I think the Marine still wins, but Carl is in the conversation, which is borderline shocking to me. I can't deny it, though.
Then I had the awkward sense that I wanted to sexily mess around with Chubby. That is getting to be more than just a fantasy. Is obsession too strong a word to describe my feelings for that? And how about Robby Dickers? Holy shit, do I want every guy I know to fuck me?
After the bath, I got dressed and had a soda. Then, I looked out the window for Chubby. Around eleven o'clock, I saw a gray Plymouth SUV pull up to the curb. Oh, fuck, that's the retard, Rickie's SUV. I got a cigarette from my Marlboro box, expecting Chubby to be here soon and we could smoke on the steps, but he was still in the car ten minutes later. What the fuck? I stared at the car from my front window, and eventually, Chubby got out, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, then fastening his cargo shorts. Huh? My heart beat hard. What?
Did he and Ricky do some gay shit together? I watched Chubby lean back in the open van's door for thirty seconds, and when he pulled his head back out, he was groping his crotch and wiping his mouth again. They were talking loudly; I could hear the sound of the words but not what was said. Then Chubby's laughter. I felt dizzy.
Chubby came up to the unit's front door but not to my door. He took the stairs up to his second-floor duplex, whistling. Whistling? He never whistles!
Somehow, I got the guts to step outside and call up the steps to him, "Chubby? Are you okay?" All I heard was his door closing. My mind was all over the place, and I felt that horrible jealousy again. Even though I was wickedly concerned about Chubby, I'd had an exhausting day and in bed, I finally drifted off to the mercy of the closest thing to death: deep sleep.
To be continued...
