Invited

Chapter 21

(Sunday)

When I wake up Sunday morning, I immediately think about all the fabulous stuff Billy and I did yesterday, which brings a smile to my face. Yesterday was my best day so far on Earth.

Sliding carefully out of bed so as not to wake Billy, I go over and reach to the top shelf of my closet for more condoms. Putting three of them on the bedside table where Billy can easily get one. Then, back into bed, I watch him sleep. He doesn't make a sound, but I know he's alive, heh-heh because his chest is rising and lowering.

With my face an inch away from his, I notice for the first time that he has some pale freckles across the bridge of his nose. Now that's boyishly cute! Picking up a tiny, fluffy feather somehow made its way out of the down pillow. Hmm, I wonder if Billy's ticklish. Looking at the feather, it's hard to believe that this little feather came from the underbelly of some unfortunate duck, and about a million of these make one damn nice fluffy pillow. 

Grinning, I brush the feather across his nose. Sound asleep, he wiggles his nose. Doing it again, Billy goes, "Argrunt," and moves his head to the side. I've got my hand over my mouth, laughing as I drag the feather over his ear; he swipes at his ear with a hand, then turns over onto his stomach.

Tossing the tiny feather in the air, I blow on it, and it drifts over the side of the bed. The clock on the bedside table reads nine-oh-five, so we've had over eight hours of sleep, which should be enough, right? We had only a few cocktails last night, so I'm not hungover. Instead, I'm feeling frisky.

Reaching under the covers, I squeeze Billy's right butt cheek. It's a nice tight handful of ass. He's got a noticeable perky ass that looks incredibly sexy in a bathing suit. Yeah, it's been nine months since Billy and I were at Sara Donalds' pool party, but I can still see in my head, clear as day, Billy's perky ass looking sexy in his cool-looking bathing suit. He has a tight body but not from working out; it's Nature's gift.

My fingers gently rub his head, his light-brown hairs running through my fingers, clean and soft even though short. Well, yeah, it's short; we just got haircuts a couple of days ago. Last night, I was surprised when Billy admitted he doesn't believe our haircuts are magical. He had me convinced he thought they were. Then, last night, he said he's been half joking about that all along. Well, if he's half-joking, I guess that means he still believes there's some magic happening—another one of his funny quirks, which I love. Ha, I love everything about him... EVERYTHING! 

Whew, I'm apparently quite adamant about that.

With a quiet sigh, I lie against him, putting my arm across his back. Right away, with his face in the pillow, he mutters, "Did you tickle me a little while ago, or was I dreaming?" 

"What? Oh, yeah, I tickled your nose and ear with a tiny duck-down feather, if that's what you mean."

He flops onto his back, my arm sliding off him as I protest, "Hey," then cuddle against his side. He puts his arm under my neck, mumbling, "It was probably a goose-down feather, not duck-down. Goose-down clusters are bigger and fluffier and, therefore, preferable."

Rubbing my nose on his shoulder because he smells good, I mutter, "And how in the hell would you know that, Billy?"

"I guess I read it someplace, and don't wipe your nose on my shoulder."

"I enjoyed how your body smells; I didn't wipe my nose on you." Going up onto his side, smiling his great smile, he puts his other arm around me and then glances at the bedside table. "Oh, I see you reloaded our condom supply. Does that mean you're hoping we'll do a little sexy mess around?" 

"What would you guess my answer to that question might be?"

He murmurs, smiling his gorgeous smile again, "Yeah, you're right; I knew the answer. It was a rhetorical question 'cause you can't get enough of taking my dick up your ass, can you?" 

Grinning, "What do you think the answer to your latest question might be?"

He snickers, pushing the covers off us, then wrestling me onto my stomach; he mutters, "It's a full-time job keeping you satisfied." He smacks my bare ass, then reaches for a condom packet off the bedside table. 

Smacking my ass again, not hard, though, "Don't move, babe. Um, except push your ass up a little."

I do that, and he gets between my legs to rub his penis against my buttocks, murmuring, "Smooth skin. Hey, I just noticed something else we're twins about."

Looking back at him, "What's that, babe?"

He laughs, "I told you ten times that 'babe' is my term of endearment for you. You can't use it!" 
I feel his hand lightly rubbing my leg, and then he says, "Um, I noticed neither of us has hairy legs. Ain't that weird? We have twin, almost hairless legs." 

"Uh-huh, I knew that." 

He mumbles, "It's disgusting how Chicky has as much hair on his legs as on his 'effing head."

I mutter, "Gross! And his chest was like a forest of hair, too."

Feeling his penis getting hard against my right butt cheek, I look back again and watch him rip open the condom package, mumbling to himself, "Why in the hell did I mention Chicky?" Then, "We need to blank that Chicky conversation out of our minds, Gary, or it'll ruin our messing around."

Nodding, "Nothing could ruin our sexy messing around, babe."." 

"Heh-heh, you've turned into a cute wiseass, babe." He rolls the condom on his twin dick, looks at me, smiles, and says, "Maybe I thought of that jerkoff, Chicky,  because, by comparison to messing around with you, there's no comparison." He adds thoughtfully, "He's a pig, while you're an adorable fucker, and a thrill to mess around with; I wanted you to know that. I probably don't tell you enough about how special you are."

Staring at him, I expect him to walk those sentiments back a bit, but instead, he smiles, smacks my ass again, and says, "What? You want me to say more?"

Shaking my head, "No, um, thanks, that was wicked nice to hear, babe."

He laughs, "Don't call me that! That's my word."

I ask, "How about the guys you messed around with in tenth and eleventh grades? How do I compare to them? "

Shaking his head, he mumbles, "Oh, Jesus, we didn't even like each other. There's no comparison there, either. It was experimenting while calling each other queer or faggot. Constant arguing like, you're the fag, not me. No, you're the fag. Like that. Unpleasant, then two weeks later, we'd be at it again."

I mutter, "Oh, jeez, that sounds sucky," and glance at his condom-covered boner listing to the side, bumping my left butt cheek, leaving a few slippery lube spots. He uses his index finger to nudge his dick to my asshole, then leans forward, and the head tightly squeezes inside me. I go, "Umm!"

Billy asks, "You okay?"

"Uh-huh, I'm good."

He slowly pushes the rest of his hard penis inside my ass, spreading my rectum and filling me up spectacularly back there. He murmurs, "This never gets old, does it? Oh God, it feels so good."

Billy's right about that. It always feels good and new, too. It doesn't matter that it's pretty much the same thing every time. Basically, Billy moves his hard penis in my rectum until we're stimulated enough to have an orgasmic climax the way natural selection over eons intended. Um, maybe not intended the way we do it, but in all living things, genes evolved with a strong will to pass the gene on to new generations, ensuring the proliferation of the species, and, for humans, as a bonus, it feels incredibly good, too.

Obviously, taking it up the ass won't pass genes anywhere, so we're left with it simply feeling good, which is quite enough for me.

Rubbing his hands up and down my back, Billy grabs my hips and pulls up, mumbling, "Keep your ass up, okay?"

Partially up on my knees now, I mutter, "Sure," and he pulls his hard dick back as I scrunch my face feeling a million delicious vibrations coming off my prostate, "Mmmm, feels so good, Billy."

He murmurs, "This is fantastic. Messing around first thing in the morning might be the best sex there is." 

He does a few steady thrusts, mutters, "Oh fuck, yeah," and gets right into the shorter, harder, and faster thrusting, "Slap, slap, slap," creating hard-to-believe tantalizing pleasure vibrations that spread out from my rectum to my toes, fingertips, and the roots of the hair on my head.

Moaning, "Um, um, um," I'm on my hands and knees now; Billy, up on his knees, is hammering his hard boner up my ass, his crotch slapping against my buttocks, my body jerking forward with each thrust. It's an avalanche of sexy pleasure, both of us groaning and moaning as the thrilling pleasure grows and grows until the inevitable happens. "Ahhh!" I blow my load, shuddering and shaking at the intense, indescribable sensations of sexual climax.

Dropping my forehead to my arm on the bed, I squeeze my eyes shut, concentrating on the spreading, almost painfully intense pleasure that begins fading too quickly. Then, a quiet, "Oooh, umm," from me, and my body relaxes, and I drop to the mattress, cum squishing under me.

Billy lies next to me on his back, gasping, "We climaxed at the same second, Gary. Twin climaxes," and he snickers, adding, "Jesus, that was a fast one, huh? How was it, babe?"  

"Fabulous as usual, but I blew my load on the sheets, sorry."

Shaking his head, "We changed these 'effing sheets last night, and you're lying in your spunk. Jeez, Gary." 

Grinning, "Yeah, I know."

He pulls the condom off, chuckles, and mumbles, "Well, I'm glad I'm not in charge of doing the laundry."

I mutter, "You are in charge of getting rid of that condom, though."

Holding it up, he says, "Look at that little ball of semen. It felt like Niagara Falls coming out, but it's like maybe only an ounce."

Snickering, I go, "My load was much larger than that tiny amount."

He laughs, "Maybe you should be the guy/guy then."

Shaking my head, "Nah, I wouldn't want to hurt your inferior rectum; no way." 

Abruptly sitting up, he gets off the bed. Then, holding the condom away, he mutters, "Someday, maybe we'll try switching." I shrug, much preferring how we do it now. Billy mutters, "Well, come on, babe, we need to shower, and someone needs to change the sheets."

In the bathroom, we do everything we need to do, then shower together, acting like little kids playing in the water. We manage to get squeaky clean, too. Standing next to one another, we brush our teeth. Done with that, Billy asks, "What's for breakfast?" 

"Well, that depends on what you feel like having?"

He picks up the comb, "Stand still, babe." Making a face, I stand still as he combs my hair, saying, "Next time we get our haircut, I'm asking your uncle if he knows how to do a skin fade on the sides. I saw a video of a barber wearing a sports jacket giving that haircut to a sexy young guy, and his hair looked wicked cool."

Done combing my hair, he combs his own as I mumble, "Uncle Tony won't know how to do some trendy new haircut, Billy."

Putting the comb down, he shrugs, "Then maybe we need to find a new barber."

Without thinking about it, we unconsciously hold hands walking down the hall, our twin dicks swinging in the breeze with me saying, "We can't hurt Uncle Tony's feelings."

"Alright, but we're not driving back here for haircuts when we get our apartment. We can find a trendy barber near the campus."

"Maybe that will work, yeah."

We drink mugs of coffee and eat scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon for breakfast. Crunching on slightly over-fried bacon, Billy says, "Our cosmos horizon, the size of the seeable universe, is 46.5 billion light years in any direction."

Nodding, I ask, "What do you want to do today?" What's there to say to Billy's incomprehensible fact about the universe?

Finishing the last of his three scrambled eggs, he ignores my question and goes, "Even though the Big Bang started our universe 13.8 billion years ago, it has been expanding ever since. Initially, it expanded faster than the speed of light, which is very fast. Light takes 1.3 seconds from Earth to the Moon."

I say, "I could change the sheets, then we could spend the day in bed together. You know, as we used to talk about. Whaddaya say to that?"

Getting up and clearing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, he asks, "Aren't you the slightest interested in cosmology?"

"Okay, I've got a TV in my room. How about we spend the day in bed watching repeats of NOVA?"

Smiling and chuckling, Billy says, "Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, son."

"Huh? I'm not fat."

Still chuckling, he mumbles, "It's a classic line from an old movie called Animal House. How about this... skinny, clueless, with a dick up your ass is no way to go through life, babe? Does that work better?"

Finishing my coffee, I give him the finger, muttering, "I'm not clueless," and get up to put my coffee mug in the dishwasher.

Getting his arms around me, he says, "No, you're not," he kisses my cheek, adding, "I'm being a bore quoting facts about the cosmos that interest me."

"You're never boring! How about my idea of spending the day in bed?"

He laughs, "Sure, let's do it."

Billy helps me change the sheets, then says, "Let's brush our teeth again."

We do that, get undressed, and get in bed giggling like dorks. Instead of making out, though, Billy says, "Hand me the remote, babe."

Taking it off the nightstand and giving it to him, I'm like, "We're not really going to watch PBS's NOVA reruns, are we?"

Smiling at me, he turns the TV on, presses the remote's talk button, and says, "Nova."

Making a huffing sound, I mutter, "I guess we are going to watch NOVA reruns."

Smiling and squeezing his arm around my neck, he kisses my cheek, "Watching it with you next to me will make it ten times better than watching it alone."

He presses his face against the side of mine, murmuring, "Mmm, you smell good. That's one more thing we're twins about."

My left leg goes over him, and I sit on his lap, facing him with my arms around his neck. Smiling, he murmurs, "Hi," and we kiss. Then, we get into a serious make-out with NOVA playing on the TV behind me. It was me who started this, but in some imperceptible way, all of a sudden, I'm following Billy's lead with our foreplay kissing his lips when he's kissing mine, then licking tongues, then hugging and rubbing noses together while we both quietly moan with desire, then rubbing cheeks together and kisses and licking each other's ear and neck, our dicks so hard they're feel like throbbing rocks next to one another.

Our faces bumping, he murmurs, "Lift up, babe. There should be enough lube left over from our morning messing around." 

With desire so strong for him, I can barely breathe, I lift my hips, and his hand goes under me to move his stone-hard penis head to my anus. I don't need to be told what to do now. Hugging him around the neck, our faces side by side, I moan and drop my ass, clutching onto him as his boner tightly slides inside me. We both moan, "Ooh, mmm."

Hugging both arms around me, Billy murmurs, "We are so 'effing special together, Gary. It's mindboggling, but I can't imagine us being apart."

Kissing the side of his face, I lower my ass feeling his boner getting fatter, then with a groin, "Ahh," I sit on his lap fully impaled, shivering with pleasure and so in love, I can't think straight. He moves his head, so I move mine, and our mouths come together for sloppy, almost out-of-control kissing and licking, perspiration forming between us in a frenzy of lovemaking. 

Gasping, Billy's mouth slides off mine as he murmurs, "Do it, Gary," and I lift and drop down awkwardly a few times, then get into a rhythm and, with our heads together, we moan with intense sexual pleasure, my boner sticking straight up between our bellies. As I ride his perfect penis, I get into a mantra of, "Ah, ah, ah." 

Billy's squeezing me against him so tightly it's truly as if we're one, and again, we climax together. Billy made a breathy desperate gasping sound while I squealed as if someone just pinched the shit out of me. Embarrassing, yeah.

In my head, I'm pretty sure I felt Billy's cum shot hit inside me as my cum shot streaked out with nowhere to go except to drool gooily between us. We're both still tightly clutching one another as we shudder, then sigh and go limp. My hands loosely hold Billy's arms with my forehead on his shoulder. Billy's hands squeeze either side of my buttocks as he takes a deep breath, then murmurs, "That worked pretty well, doncha think, babe?"

Lifting my head, I nod, "Yes, I thought so," and we snicker, Billy adding, "Holy shit, when I think it can't possibly get any better, it gets better."

Then, with his hands trying to lift my butt cheeks, he mutters, "Sit up, Gary." My arms go around his neck again as I grin, muttering, "No. I'm sitting like this until Nova is over." 

He laughs, then pulls my arms from around his neck, saying, "C'mon, we need to clean up. You blew your gunk all over me, and mine is drooling out your cute ass around my pecker. It'll get on the sheets!" 

Lifting up on my knees, his dick flopped out of my ass, leaving my anus wide open. I put my hand back there, catching cum dripping, mumbling, "So what if a drop or two of cum gets on the sheets? You're too much of a neatnik."

He slides out from between my knees, mumbling, "Cleanliness is next to, um, I forget what it's next to, but come on to the bathroom." I get off the bed, and he takes my hand, muttering, "One of us needs to be the adult."

Squeezing his hand, I ask, "Why? We're still kids."

He says, "I'll be twenty in a few weeks, and you'll be eighteen next week. We used to be kids. Now we're not."

Billy does most of the cleaning up with me, just standing there and grinning. He starts wiping my cum off his stomach as I'm mumbling, "Your cum is still coming out, I think." He laughs aloud, and mutters, "What a brat you're turning out to be," and he rolls some toilet off and gives it to me, "Hold this at your ass. Jeez!"

While doing that, I'm still grinning and asking, "I'm still fun to be with, though, right?"

Snickering and shaking his head, he mutters, "You have me so wrapped around your little finger, it's a pathetic situation I find myself in. Yes, you're fun to be with—the most fun I've ever had, actually. Satisfied?" 

I mumble, "Very, thank you so much."

Smiling as he dries his stomach, "How about me? Am I fun to be with?"

Putting my arms around him, I murmur, "That's another rhetorical question, right? You make my life shine brighter than your 'effing cosmos. No one has ever had as much fun being with another as I have to be with you, and no one in the history of the world loved anyone as much as I love you."

There's his radiant smile, "Well, okay, then. Let's watch the end of NOVA."

Bringing the toilet paper pad with me, I sit on it leaning against Billy, his arm around me, and we watch the last thirty minutes of NOVA, a show about the Mars Perseverance Rover. Billy often says what the show's narrator says before the narrator says it. I'm like, "Let me guess, you've seen this before, right?"

Chuckling, he goes, "Twice, I record all NOVA shows." 

After the free Perseverance program, the next show will cost $1.99. I look at Billy, who shrugs, "It doesn't cost anything to tape the shows."

I'm not putting the charge on Dad's Verizon account, so Billy scrolls through the endless number of channels and stops to watch a black-and-white "Leave It To Beaver" show from the fifties or sixties. Billy says, "Look at the mother washing dishes. She's dressed up as if she's going to a ball or something."

I mumble, "The brothers, Beaver and Whatshisname, are geeks. See what else is on."

We end up watching an old 76ers Celtics NBA game on the NBA channel until one-thirty, then get dressed, and I drive us to the Subway shop for lunch. Inside the shop, we get in line, and Billy bumps fists and then a guy-hug with Mac McBride, asking, "What have you been up to, Mac?"

As we wait to place our orders, they talk about the senior homeroom they were in together, then about college.

Mac finally reaches past Billy to say, "Hey, Gary, wassup?" He's more a friend of Billy's than me.

To be continued...       [email protected]

            

                                                                                        INVITED
                                                                                 Chapter 21  Part 2







Mac finally looks past Billy to say, "Hey, Gary, wassup?" 

No, not Billy. I meant Mac is more a friend of Dave Summerset's than mine. The past two summers, Mac golfed at the par-three course with Dave and me five or six times. 

I grin and say, "How ya hitting 'em, Mac? Do you get to the driving range much?" 

He nods, "Dave and I hit a bucket last weekend."

The counter kid says, "Can I help you?" Mac gives his order; then we give ours. Mac is taking his sub home, so he waves, "Nice seeing you guys," he's out the door.

We get our Italian subs and Cokes and sit at a table. Billy says, "Golfing sounds like fun." Holding my sub,  "Maybe I'll teach you how to golf." He nods, "It can be a useful skill in the business world." 

Muttering, "Huh, I never gave the business world a thought. And, um, I'm not all that good at golf, but we can take lessons together." 

He continues eating, so I add, "You know, take golf lessons together as one of the 'effing other thing we're going to do together for, um, well, forever."

His eyes come up to mine as he smiles, then makes a face and continues chewing. Grinning, I go, "Well, we've been doing everything together anyway, so we'll just continue that with golf lessons and everything else we do until we die, and I hope I die first, but not until we're in our late nineties."

His eyes meet mine again as I grin, asking, "What? You want to live past our nineties?"

He finished his sub, wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, smirked at me, and muttered, "Finish your sub. Let's go to the mall. I need to buy a belt. "

Nodding, I mumble, "Yeah, okay," and finish my lunch. Walking out of the shop, Billy lightly squeezes the back of my neck, giving me awesome shivers as he mutters, "Yes, I do want to live past my nineties."

Driving to the mall, I'm like, "I don't think I've ever bought a belt." 

He pulls the end of his belt out, "Look, the hole I always use on this 'effing belt is twice as big as it was when the belt was new. It makes the belt too loose, and it looks like shit, so I need a new one."

I mumble, "Mom must have bought my belts for me." 

Shaking his head, Billy says, "You're such a baby. My parents paid for most of them, but I've been buying my clothes since middle school." I've got nothing to say to that, so Billy says, "Listen to this weird fact: Belts didn't come into everyday usage for men's pants until the 1920s. Before that, belts were considered decorative."

I've got nothing to say to that, either, so he smiles and chuckles, mumbling, "Yep, the 1920s. I'll bet you didn't know that, did you?" 

Shaking my head, I snicker, "No, I didn't." He hits my shoulder, then rubs it affectionately, "You don't know nothing, do you?" 

Looking at him, I grin and say, "Nothing is what I do know." 

Chuckling, he mutters, "Okay, I should have said you don't know anything." 

I mumble, "Well, I know who I love with a passion." He nods, "That's really something special to know, alright!" We park in the lower parking level at the mall, take off our seatbelts, and then Billy pulls my head over and kisses me, "Yeah, you are a lot of fun."

I'm walking on clouds as I go into the mall, asking, "What kind of belt are we looking for?" 

He squeezes my right butt cheek, mumbling, "One in the men's department." I grin, "Oh, is that where they are?"

He buys a tan leather 30-inch-waist belt for $34.95; then we stroll the mall. Billy goes, "Look at the empty stores. Malls were really screwed by the Pandemic the last couple of years."

I go, "Even before the Pandemic, I'd see hundreds of cars in the parking lot, but it didn't seem like many people were inside. And have you noticed no one wears a mask anymore? Once in a while, you see someone with a mask on, but it's rare nowadays."

We end up at the food court for an ice cream treat, and naturally, Billy sees guys he knows there. He shows his great smile and outgoing personality, acting like these guys and girls are his best buddies ever. They're friendly but not as exuberant about seeing Billy as he appears to be seeing them. Yeah, well, I know a couple of them. Amanda Smith, a black girl, sat across from me in chemistry class in junior year, and we talked a lot before class. In retrospect, I think she wanted me to ask her out.

She's holding hands with Francisco, or Frank, as he's called, Santiago. Billy's laughing with two guys I don't know as Amanda smiles and says, "Gary, you're looking good, dude. Where you going to school?" 

"HI, Amanda. Um, Community College."

Frank, looking bored, nods at me. It's easier to lie than go through an explanation about taking a year off because I'm seventeen, plus I want to buy a car, blah, blah, blah, and so forth. Now Frank seems impatient, looking away with a puss on his face. Amanda pays no attention to him telling me how much fun she's having at Temple University. Finally, Frank says to Amanda, "Do you want lunch or not?" 

She makes a cute face, saying, "Oh, okay, Frankie. Nice seeing you, Gary," and they walk over to stand in line at the McDonald's booth.

Billy says, "Come on, Gary, let's get an ice cream." There's a Haagen Dazs booth where we get scoops of ice cream in plastic cups with a plastic spoon. Each one costs almost as much as a pint costs in the supermarket. Mine is cherry vanilla, and Billy's is plain old vanilla. 

Eating our ice cream as we walk to the other end of the mall where the car is parked, Billy asks, "Which do you prefer, Haagan Dazs or Ben and Jerry's?" 

Shrugging, I say, "Mom always buys the store-brand ice cream, but this is delicious, so I can't imagine Ben and Jerry's being any better." We finish our ice cream sitting in the idling car; then, at Billy's insistence, I drive to a big trash container near where I parked, and we dump the plastic cups and spoons. I would have dumped them out the window in the parking lot.

At the house, Billy puts on his new belt, and then we goof around playing a game on the computer. In the middle of the second game, Billy is so far ahead on points it's ridiculous. I'm saved by the bell when he gets a text from his mom. I take the opportunity to cancel out the game on the computer while Billy and his mom text back and forth a few times. 

Finished, Billy tells me, "Mom and my old man wanted us to have Sunday dinner with them, but I said we already started a chicken dinner here. I figured you'd be uncomfortable eating with my family." 

"And you figured correctly. Thanks."

He smiles and gets his arms around me, saying, "I know my cute boyfriend is a tiny bit socially challenged in certain situations, so I need to protect him." 

I'm grinning, leaning against him as he ruffles my short hair, "Am I right?" Omigod, it gives me a hard boner hearing Billy say things like that. I squeeze my arms around him, acting like I'm nine years old, muttering, " Yes, you're so right. Take care of me, Billy."

He laughs and hugs me, then sways me side to side the way he did last night when we danced together, and my heart just about bursts with love for him. We kiss slowly, a luscious lover's kiss that gets us all horned up and leads to much more energetic making out, hands all over one another. That leads to our pants coming down to our knees, and, with grunts and heavy breathing, Billy fucks me as I'm leaning over, supporting myself with both hands on the arm of the sofa.
With almost no lube left in my ass from this morning's sexy messing around, followed by our later messing around, this time it doesn't go smoothly at first, hurting both Billy's boner and my anus. Persevering pays off, and soon it's, "Slap, slap, slap," and, "Um, um, um. Ah, ah, ah. Feels good, Billy."

He's holding onto my hips, pounding away, making breathy-grunting sounds as I'm being jostled so hard; I end up lying on the arm of the sofa, closing my eyes to grovel in sexual pleasure. Thankfully, with all that going on, I still have enough sense to catch my streaking short stream of cum in my hand, squealing into the sofa cushion, then shake at the zipping aftereffects before sighing and doing one last shudder.

Already pulling his dick from my ass, Billy goes, "Holy crap, that was super hot. Holy shit, hahaha. Oh man, I liked that." 

I murmur, "Yeah, wow," and push myself up off the arm of the sofa." Looking at Billy, he smiles, asking, "You okay?" I nod and show him my hand with a little pool of cum, my other hand pressed to my ass to catch drooling cum.

Billy goes, "Good, you caught your cum shot. My dick is sore, but I thought that was sexy hot." 
On our way to the powder room, "It didn't hurt you too much, did it, babe?"  

"That depends on what you mean by too much. It didn't hurt as much as a root canal." 

He nods, chuckles, and mutters, "That's good to hear. Have you ever had a root canal?" 

Shaking my head, I said, "No, I haven't, now that you mention it." 

He laughs as we shuffle into the half bathroom, Billy holding both our pants up. I hold my hand with the cum under the faucet, and Billy turns on the water. He's unrolling more toilet paper, mumbling, "No, seriously, Gary, did that hurt you?" 

"Nah, that scream you heard when you rammed your dick in was me screaming for joy," and we both laugh, bumping against one another.

He hands me the toilet paper pad and says, "I'm going to try not doing that again, but you need to help by being less desirable, okay?" 

Nodding, "Uh-huh, okay." He's smiling at me as he washes his limp penis, then he mutters, "Are we having fun, or what?"

Putting the toilet paper pad in my underpants, I pull them up, then my jeans, muttering, "One of us is."

He goes, "Hey!" and I lean against him, murmuring, "The most fun I've ever had by a factor of one hundred."

Walking into the kitchen, we wash our hands again. This time, use the foaming disinfecting hand soap at the sink. I say, "You told your mom we're having chicken for dinner, and that is what we're having."

He nods, "Yeah, I saw the chicken breast in the refrigerator, but we hadn't started cooking yet. That was the lying part. It's only five o'clock, though, and that's too early for dinner, don't you think?" I do, so we return to the living room and turn on the TV, but we can't find anything we want to watch. Turning off the TV, Billy asks, "Do you want a cocktail?"

I shrug, "Nah, not really, and I don't want to smoke a joint either." 

He says, "Oh, huh, that's so weird. If I wanted to smoke a joint or drink a screwdriver, you'd do it too, wouldn't you?"

Grinning, I slide over on the sofa against him, pick his left arm up, and put it across my shoulders, then say, "Of course, I would. You're our leader and my loving boyfriend, so I do what you do."

Shaking his head a little, he mumbles, "My goodness, that puts a lot of heavy responsibility on my shoulders, which is a bit of a pain in my ass when I get right down to it," and he laughs, squeezing me against him. We talk nonsensical, chuckling and snuggling, until Billy says, "Omigod, Gary. Can you believe how sickenly sappy we've become? We're out of 'effing control, bro. We need to get a grip!"

I rub his head, muttering, "No, we don't need to get an 'effing grip; we're doing sickly sappy perfectly. No one could be more perfectly sickenly sappy than you and me."

Chuckling, he gets up and says, "I'm making a cocktail. Do you want one?"

I snicker, "Of course I do," and follow him into the kitchen. We have just one cocktail as Billy grills the chicken breasts, and I make boxed macaroni and cheese. Yeah, it's far from gourmet mac and cheese with its processed dehydrated cheese, but I add milk as directed on the box, and we like it quite a bit. Also, we both like frozen Bird's Eye baby white and yellow kernel corn, so I cook that up and add a ton of butter, plus lots of salt.

We have ourselves a damn good Sunday dinner, except when I cut into the charred exterior of the chicken breast, it's pale pink inside. Looking at Billy, I'm like, "Shouldn't it be white all the way through?"

Billy says, "Did you see me Googling on my phone?"

"Yeah."

He says, "I was Googling how to cook chicken, and I read that it's okay if the chicken is pale pink inside as long as the internal temperature is 165 degrees, and it is! I used your mom's meat thermometer and took the breast off the grill when it was 166 degrees. It's tender and juicy, right?"

"Yeah, as long as I don't get trichinosis, it's delicious." 

He smirked and shook his head a little, muttering, "You might end up with a few tapeworms, but nothing major."

Snickering, I mutter, "Well, okay, then." It's actually the best chicken I've ever had. I'm going to tell Mom about this. After dinner, we watch America's Funniest Home Videos on TV, laughing our balls off at the people falling in elaborate ways or a little kid blindfolded hitting a birthday pinata and missing it but connecting with daddy's nuts, or people hiding so they can jump out and scare the shit out of someone. 

Then, we watched an old James Bond film on Showtime and got to bed at eleven o'clock. After a dreamy lovers' make-out, we do dreamy slow lovers' sexy messing around with me on my back, my legs around Billy's waist. It's hot sex that lasts almost ten minutes before; with another embarrassing squeal, I climax into the washcloth Billy reminded me to take to bed for that exact eventuality.

Shivering with pleasure, Billy lying on me, my arms around him, we catch our breath, and he murmurs, "Are you going to miss sleeping with me tomorrow night?"

"Yep, like pirates miss treasure, and lovers miss pleasure." 

He mumbles, "That much, huh? And how did you come up with that cornball rhyming thingamajig on the spur of the moment like that?" He slides off me, and, sitting on the edge of the mattress, he takes off the condom.

I sit up beside him, muttering, "Huh... I don't know. It was pretty cool, though, don't you think?" 

"Well, t was okay, but try not to say shit like that too often, alright?" 

Nodding, "I don't know where it came from. It just popped into my head. How about I'm going to miss you like a "tick" misses a "tock," or a key misses a lock?"

 He yells, "Stop, please!" We walk to the bathroom, Billy flushes the condom, and we wash up a little as he says, "I'm addicted to you, so I'm going to miss sleeping with you like a motherfucker."

Going back down the hall, I mutter the obvious, "But that doesn't rhyme," we both chuckle, get in bed, and go to sleep snuggled together, quite pleased with ourselves. Monday morning, we do roughhouse messing around, ending up sweaty with me shooting cum on the sheets again.

Gasping and sweaty, Billy says, "I love me some morning messing around. Wow! What a great way to start the day." He wraps the condom in Kleenex, and we stay in bed talking about the past few days, laughing and exaggerating the sexy messing around we've done since Friday afternoon. 

Billy says, "Still, as much messing around as we did, it wasn't close to the amount we thought we'd do when living together at our apartment."

Shrugging, snuggling tighter against him, I mumble, "We did the perfect amount; that's what I think." He smiles, muttering, "Almost," and he fucks me bareback for ten or twelve minutes before I shoot more cum on the sheets squealing with pleasure. A minute later, Billy almost squeals when he blasts off.

We're a mess now as Billy lies on me, his sticky dick dragging along my leg, cum drooling out from my ass. Billy smiles, "Now, we've done the perfect amount of messing around, babe."

I mutter, "You're right again, babe."

To be continued...