Invited

Chapter 42

(Unexpected)

Wow, what an unexpected dynamic date Ronny Lynch and I are having! We've been in an inexplicably sexy fever almost from the minute he drove up on his motorbike. I can't begin to explain it, but there are flashes of electricity flickering between us. You can almost see the sparks flickering... and we're almost too hot to touch! Yes, it started as I watched him ride up on his motorbike. Yeah, I got this weird vibration in my crotch. I'm like... what was that? Ya know?

Ronny's not cute or good-looking, per se. He's a normal, average-looking guy; his appearance is a little special, though. His body type is like Billy's. Until today, he hasn't been very nice to me. Still, I forgot about that when he looked cool wearing the helmet and he had the cocky body language motorcycle guys seem to have. When I sat behind him on the rumbling motorbike, I felt a weird kind of excitement. Then, doing what he told me, meaning hugging him tightly, he rode the bike too fast, taking turns dangerously tight, showing off, and Goddamn, I got a hard boner in my pants.

That was an awesome start to our date, and as nervous as that thrill ride was, I smiled and had good thoughts about Ronny most of the way to the Sears parking lot. Then, an hour later, knowing it wasn't possible, I nonetheless thought that he had attributes that I could fall in love with. Anyway, at the parking lot, Ronny and I messed around fucking repeatedly that first hour, so. Yeah, we had inexplicable hot sexual desires for one another. We're currently trying to understand it all and have not had much success with that. Still, we're doing good with a sort of mutual admiration interlude, complimenting one another for being nicer than we expected, and blah, blah, blah, and you're pretty awesome yourself, dude, I had no idea, and more blah, blah, blah. 

While it's true Ron's not especially cute or good-looking, I like his friendly smile, and I liked making out with him. I don't usually care for guys with beards, but Ronny's so-called trendy beard is harmless, consisting of a skimpy mustache and a thin scattering of whiskers along his jaw. It looks okay on him, and his whiskers are more like the hair on his head, not normal scratchy whiskers. I like his clean-looking mouth, too. It's all a bubble-gum-pink color with pearly white teeth, and he has a healthy boyish smell to his skin, so there are particular things about him to compensate for him not being especially good-looking.

I usually go for guys who look my age, but somehow, Ronny's more mature looks and his mature manner strike me as attractive. Yes, I know, I'm overlooking aspects of Ronny that generally put me off, but that's because there's a mysterious something about him that's uniquely special. No, I can't put my finger on what it is, and I know I had that same thought about Billy Underwood, too, but this mystery thing for Ronny is a stronger feeling. Something spectacular is afoot that's beyond our control, but Ronny and I are on board with whatever it is.

Any extra maturity I noticed in Ronny evaporated when we got into our nuclear hot sex. The sex led us to find common grounds for appreciating each other's other attributes and exploring the mysterious, mutually dramatic, magnetic attraction we're feeling for one another. It's some agreeable hormonal chemistry or something that led to extraordinary sex. Yeah, we could hardly breathe while screwing like minks. Now, still naked from the waist down, we're sitting on a sweatshirt with our sides touching and leaning back against the Sears' dumpster. With a sigh of contentedness, I asked Ronny if we could smoke the joint Billy gave us.

He shrugs, then continues in his semi-serious manner, "So far, we haven't taken any drugs, so it's scarily odd that we have no idea what's happening with us. It's scary 'cause I've never come close to this level of sexual arousal. I mean, holy shit, I couldn't stop fucking you, and honestly, I want to do it again right now. Um, except I don't think I'm physically able to do it a fourth time this soon. Wallingford, what did you do to me?" 

He asked that rhetorical question with a pleasant grin as he ran his fingers through my curly hair. Shrugging, "I don't know, Ronny, but you do have that joint Billy gave you, so..." and, grinning harder, he shrugs, "Yes, but we don't need it," and he got both arms around me, pulling me against him, murmuring, "Wallingford, I'm never like this! I swear, I'm not this aggressive, and I'm usually the bottom boy. I'm almost always the bottom boy! With you, though, it's like I needed to have you! And, seriously, I still can't get my fill of you. Have I gone crazy, do you think?"

I put my arms around him now, and we're hugging one another like fools, the way innocent five-year-olds hug. It's so weird; I shake my head, "I don't know what's happening either, Ronny, but I felt the same heat for you that you felt for me." Ronny, making a funny gasping sound, lies us back on the sweatshirt, and without talking about it, we start making out like animals in heat. Gasping for air, our mouths and tongues licking and sucking together, our hands all over one another, our legs entangled, both of us with hard erections as we whimper in sexual heat and desire. 

As he moves in front of me, Ronny says, "I'm sorry, I can't help it," and then holds my legs up by my ankles and humps his undersized boner inside me as I go, "Ahhh, ooh, do it, no, it's all right, do it, Ronny..." Grunting, he thrusts his hips driving his smallish hard cock back and forth in and out of my ass, earlier cum remnants letting it slide smoothly, feeling incredibly good. I'm squirming on my back on the sweatshirt with my emotions and desires out of control, my head going from side to side, my rock-hard five-inch boner pointing straight up as I'm moaning, "Ronny, Ronny, fuck me, fuck me..."

Letting go of my legs, he puts a hand next to me on either side of my chest, my legs going around his waist, and in a frenzy, he thrusts and thrusts his cock, his face close to mine, our noses bumping, heavy breathing, his moist breath in my face until, he stops in mid-thrust... 

Huh... what the fuck was that? 

Someone blew their horn! Then, headlights flashed across the parking lot. Ronny freezes, his cock inside me. We hear the car or truck engine getting closer. With a whimper, Ronny lies on me, his boner going all the way inside me. With his lips on mine, he whispers, "Shh, Wallingford, shh." 

"Jesus, what, who..." When he moves his head to follow the headlights, his body pulls up, and his short dick pulls out of my ass. My arms squeeze around him as our penises nestled between us, going flaccid; one a soft three inches of flesh, the other a soft five inches. The car or truck's high-beam headlights form a circle of light in the vast darkness of the big parking lot. We hear a glass bottle break; someone screams something, and then laughter as the vehicle's headlights goes back out the way they came. 

His head above mine, Ronny's eyes gaze into mine as he rubs his fingers across my forehead, moving my curly bangs to the side, mumbling, "Sorry for acting like a cunt there for a second, Wallingford, but I almost shit myself thinking a cop would shine one of those big cop flashlights on us. My folks don't know I'm gay, not yet they don't. I'm gonna tell them soon, though," and he slides off me and sits up. I sit beside him, my arm going across his shoulders, "You didn't act like a cunt, Ronny. There wasn't anything either of us could do?"

He grins, "You're supposed to know what to do," and he snuggles his face against the side of my neck, so I put my other arm around him and hug him while swaying side to side a little. Snickering, I murmur, "You cunt, I can't be expected to think of everything. And you're going to be extremely disappointed if you expect me to know what to do when shit happens." That wasn't funny, but we laughed hard as if it was, relieved the car or truck never drove by this side of the dumpster. I go, "Hey, seriously, what makes you think I'm supposed to know anything? It's you who will need to know what we'll do, not me."

Murmuring, "I don't know shit," he rubs his face against mine like a cat rubbing against my leg. I murmur, "You smell good." He says, "It's freaking me out that we hardly know one another, yet it feels like I've known you all my life. Something is happening here, and we don't know what it is, do we, Mr. Wallingford?"

"Haha. No, I don't know what's happening. Um, except I do know that I've never had a boner go down faster than mine did when I saw those fucking headlights. Heh-heh, but I need to agree with you about feeling like we've been friends for years. How can that be, though?" He shrugs, "Maybe we knew one another in another life. Um, no, forget I said that. That's too weird; let's smoke the joint."

I let go of him, and, thinking about the car or truck coming back, I go, "Um, Ronny, do you think we should put our pants on before smoking the joint?"

He laughs, "Hey, I'm not the boss here! I don't know; you decide." Taking a deep breath, I mumble, "Goddammit, we're a couple of submissive girlie/guys. We need someone bossing us around, telling us what to do."

"Billy will do that. We're not girls, though,  just a couple of gay guys. The two of us can figure out what to do for ourselves. To start us off, I'll make a decision, and it's that,  yes, let's put our pants on. Then maybe the next decision could be yours to make. We can take turns." Nodding, I stand and hold my hand down for him, then help pull him up. Earlier, he'd draped our clothes on the motorbike. Now, he tossed me his underpants. We giggle like girls putting on each other's underpants. He says, "We can't wear each other's jeans because you're too fucking tall."

Pulling my jeans up, I ask, "What size sneakers do you wear?" He picks up one of my New Balance sneakers, looks inside it, and mutters, "Hey, look at that! I wear a size nine, same as you." 

Shaking my head, snickering, I put on Ronny's beat-up sneakers, muttering, "We're acting like a couple of eight-year-olds..." 

I'm glad I overestimated Ronny's maturity factor. He's more fun like this. Still standing, he takes the joint from his pocket, mumbling, "Eight-year-olds rarely smoke joints, Wallingford." I take out my lighter and hold the flame for him to fire up the marijuana. Inhaling, Ronny holds the smoke in as we lean against the dumpster, looking at one another. I watch him exhale and then pass me the joint. As I drag off the joint, he says, "Yep, this is so cool, although I hardly ever smoke pot. There's something wonderful going on with us, though. I don't know how it happened, but I love it, and I think I love you, Wallingford. What do you have to say about that?"

Exhaling, I pass him the joint. "Don't say you love me because it makes me want to squeeze you and kiss you until we faint. Um, plus, we don't know one another well enough to be in love, and, anyway, I love Billy." Sure, I've had the thought of a momentary type of love for recent gay friends when our date was working out really well. As I said, it's just a momentary sort of quickie love affair enjoying the moment, but this thing with Ronny has the potential of being way different than that. Still, it isn't love yet, is it? You need to know a person really well before you can realistically expect to be in love with them.

Ronny inhales, holds the smoke in his lungs, then exhales and says in the funny voice people have when talking immediately after holding marijuana smoke in their lungs, "Yeah, no offense, but your thing with Underwood is your problem. The immediate concern is, what will we do about our problem, our insane sexual attraction for one another?"

Hmm, has he gone back to thinking mature thoughts? I exhale and pass him the joint; looking into his eyes, he puts an arm around me, mumbling, "If it's love or something else, we're enormously complicating our lives, but I can't help thinking you and I are going to be inseparable. I'm depending on you to show me the way." 

Feeling the drug effects, our heads droop until our foreheads are touching, the joint smoldering in my fingers as Ronny murmurs, "First, though, you're going to need to tell Billy you're breaking up with him. We're going to be out in the open as boyfriends. That way, we can fully appreciate what we've found in one another. Coming out to the world as gay boyfriends will be scary, but..."

Frowning that he's being mature again, I murmur, "Wow, that's so fucked up, Ronny. Um, but mature too, obviously."

Being careful not to burn either of us, I put the joint to my lips and drag from it, inhaling the smoke. Then, I cover Ronny's lips with mine and exhale the smoke into his mouth. Our faces slide together as he does a second inhale of my exhale and then exhales it from his nose. Without talking, we finish the joint, with me taking turns holding it to his, then my lips, and exhaling the smoke into each other's mouths and lungs.

When I drop the roach, then step on it, our faces still together, we slowly sit on the sweatshirt, our arms around one another, then slowly lie over on our sides and lie like this for, well, I don't know how long. Eventually, the marijuana effect wears off, but I stay here lying with Ronny until he mutters, "I'm hungry, Wallingford. Can we get something to eat somewhere?"

"Okay, let me sit up so I can see what time it is." Then, instead of just sitting up, we stand. I look at my cell phone. I mumble, "It's five after nine, and, by the way, Lynch, as I told you before, feel free to call me Gary. Lots of people do, ya know." Then I grin at him, "Can you do that?"

He mutters, "I call all my friends by their last names. Don't you?"

"I guess I sometimes do, but I'm so fucked up here! You're in my head. Here's the thing, though... I want to get in bed naked with you." 

He snickers, "Stream of consciousness, mumblings, huh, Wallingford? I want to eat you up." He roughly hugs me around my neck, then squishes my face against his for ten seconds. Letting go of me, he goes, "It's unbelievable, but I just got another boner. Seriously, how is this possible?"

"I don't 'effing know?"

He shakes his head, "It was love at first sight or some such shit. Being with you is almost like jerking off for an hour and a half, constantly climaxing or on the verge. It's so sexy hot!" Smiling, then, as he's done a half dozen times tonight, he uses his fingers to swipe my too-curly bangs to the side of my forehead. I smirk at him, and he mumbles, "Well, don't you agree, Wallingford?" I take a deep breath, then snicker at him for calling me by my last name again, "Yeah, I agree it's like constantly being in sexual heat, but it's fucking exhausting too. Don't you think?"

Letting go of me, he abruptly gets on his motorbike, passes my helmet to me, then puts his on. For no real reason, I feel so proud of him. Haha, yeah, proud to be with him, and I touch his shoulder. He grins at me, nods, then stomps down on a pedal, twists a handlebar grip, and the bike's engine roars to life; then the motor rumbles, and Ronny shouts, "C'mon, Wallingford, get on. We'll get something to eat at McDonald's." Getting on behind him, there's no hesitation this time; I get snuggly against his ass, my arms tightly around him. There isn't anything that's too intimate between us now. We're committed to one another, and I feel I belong to Ronny, and he belongs to me. Jeez, no matter how much in love I was with Billy, I never thought he belonged to me.

Yeah, I still love Billy, but Ronny's right to say he and I will be inseparable boyfriends. I'm already thinking about how much money I have and how soon I can buy a car and rent that apartment for Ronny and me. Sure, my dear friend, Billy Underwood, who showed me how to live instead of exist, is invited to go in on the apartment with us; super encouraged to do it, actually! Ronny and I need our hero, Billy, to make decisions for us.

It's a twelve-minute ride to McDonald's, and then Ronny stops at the top of the parking lot. He has a foot on the blacktop on either side of the rumbling motorbike, and I'm still hugging him around his waist as we look down at the front of the restaurant. He points to guys standing there, "Are those neighborhood friends of yours?"

Huh, yeah, there's the neighborhood bully and bore Ron Smart. He's hanging on Asley while friendly Spike and too-tall Gary Day are smoking cigarettes, goofing off, and laughing about something. "Yeah, I know those guys." He says, "Well, they don't know me, so I don't care, but you and I are, you know, on a date, so do you want to walk past them going into McDonald's?"

I want to swagger past those guys holding hands with Ronny, but I haven't come out as gay yet, and I haven't told Billy I'm breaking up with him yet, so I mutter, "Nah. Let's go to my house; I'll cook us hamburgers on the grill." He nods, "Yeah, okay. I'd like that," He reaches back to squeeze my leg, murmuring, "You're like a dream come true for me, Wallingford. I can't believe I'm this lucky. How is this even happening?" I shrug, and he says, "Hold on to me tight!" I do that, and he does a wheelie taking off, the front wheel in the air and the back tire squealing. All four guys at the entrance look up, wondering who the cool motherfuckers on the motorbike are. 

It's an eight-minute ride to my house, and all the way, I wished we weren't wearing helmets so I could press my face against the back of Ronny's head, neck, or shoulder. The strength of my attraction to him is fantastic and thrilling. He said it was love at first sight for us, but it wasn't at first sight for one thing, and it can't be love for another. I don't know what it is. Um, maybe it's an uncontrollable physical attraction. Our sexual infatuation explosion happened the first chance we had to be alone, an out-of-control rocket of emotion... ah, it was something like that.

Ronny parked the bike in the driveway, and we took off our helmets, carrying them to the front door. I smirked at him, feeling we were so cool together; wicked cool boyfriends. Bumping him, he again grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head down as my arms go around him, and we kiss and suck on each other's tongues for ten seconds. Still holding, pulling on his fistful of my too-curly hair, Ronny mutters, "I can't catch my fucking breath being with you," We kiss again quickly.

He lets go of my hair, which stays like a clump of curls sticking up. Patting it down with my hand, I don't even care if a neighbor saw me kissing a guy in front of my house. After taking a deep breath, glancing at smirking Ronny, I get my house key out and mutter, "I know what you mean, Ronny. You make me crazy, too. I can't catch my breath either." We go in the front door, and as soon as Ronny closes the door behind him, we're in each other's arms again, kissing and rubbing our hands up the back of our heads, doing sloppy kisses, spit running down both our chins, our tongues coming out to lick and suck on the drooling saliva.

After thirty seconds, gasping for air, we shake our heads, hardly believing our behavior.  I grab his hand and pull him toward the kitchen, mumbling, "Obviously, we need professional help. We've gone off the rails; emotionally, we're flying down a dead-end street at a hundred miles an hour." He mutters, "As long as I'm doing it with you, I don't give a shit what happens." Letting go of his hand, I open the refrigerator and pass him a can of Bud. He hands it back, "No, thanks. I'm not much of a drinker, sorry."

Without commenting, I pass him a Coke and get one for myself. Next, I take frozen hamburger patties and buns from the freezer, asking, "Do you like cheese on your hamburgers?" We snap the tabs on our soda cans, "Yeah, who doesn't like cheese on their burgers?"

Grinning, "I don't know," and I rub his head, further messing up his poorly cut hair, mumbling, "I did that head rub because I wanted to touch you somehow, and your hair was already fucked up, so..." then I put my can of Coke to his mouth, and he drinks some, grinning at the same time. He then deliberately puts his can to my mouth, and I drink some. We do that for three minutes; then, rolling our eyes and grinning at how insane we are, Ronny mutters, "If we weren't us, we'd consider this behavior pathetic and slightly sickening, ya know?"

Nodding, "Oh, for sure. Come with me on the back porch, and I'll fire up the grill." On the porch, I get the gas grill burning as Ronny asks, "Seriously, how do you want to handle everything moving forward? Do you want me to say anything to Billy about us? I'll see him tomorrow morning when we take one of our final exams."

Rubbing the back of my fingers slowly through the sparse whiskers on his chin, feeling how soft they are, I murmur, "I'm so fucking glad we met, Ronny, but,  um, I don't know what exactly to do about Billy. Ah, maybe if you gave him a heads up about us, that would be best, but what would you say to him?"

Oh man, I can't chicken out making Ronny tell Billy I'm dumping him. It's not right, dammit! He nervously chuckles and says, "I'll tell him I stole his boyfriend from him. That's what I did, right? You're all mine now, Wallingford. "I know I'm yours, Ronny, and you better take good care of me, too, but I'm not sure we want to explain it to Billy like that."

He chuckles, "Fuck; I know that. Maybe a text message first thing tomorrow from you telling him something about how sorry we are that this happened, but, um, we're in love, and I'm your boyfriend now, so, ah, well, he's out, and..." Rolling my eyes, I go, "No! I'm not texting that! I need to tell him face to face that you're my boyfriend but that I still love him and always will."

"No, Wallingford. You need to stop loving him and concentrate all your love on me."

I shake my head, "Ronny, you obviously don't know anything about love. You and me, we're not in love, not really. We're in an infatuated state that we can call love if we want, but it isn't real love. That's not to say that when we get to know one another more, we won't fall in love for real. And that's exactly what I hope happens because I love being with you, which is different from being in love with you."

"You're confusing me, but I like the falling in love part, and I'm adding us getting married after you graduate college."

What? Married, me graduating, um..."

"Don't look confused, Wallingford, because that's what we're doing long-term, although what do we do about Underwood in the meantime?" Putting four hamburgers on the grill, I nod toward the back door, "C'mon inside, and I'll defrost the rolls in the microwave. Jesus, you're sounding mature and in charge, which I like a lot because one of us should be mature and in charge!"

As the rolls defrost, I add, "So, we agree that you won't say anything to Billy about you and me. That's my job, and I'll do it as soon as I get home from work tomorrow. Um, what do you want on your cheeseburgers?"

"You're being brave about this, Wallingford. I'm proud of you. And, um, just ketchup on my burger. So, okay, you'll tell Billy, then you and I will have another date tomorrow night and every night after that. We'll be together every night, right?" I lean over and kiss him, "Yep, definitely. I mean, every night we can. I'll get my Mom's car. Um, you need to tell me how to get to your house, though. It's in Philly, right?" 

He nods, "Yeah, of course." I say, "If you don't mind me asking, have you already dumped that lumberjack-looking boyfriend of yours? If not, you need to do that?"

"Lumberjack? Do you mean Bob Singer? He wasn't much of a boyfriend. Unlike you, I haven't had a lot of romantic success. If I'm lucky, I get laid once a month. That guy, Singer, was a three-time date, and I haven't seen him since. We didn't even have sex. My situation has changed now, though, right? You want to have sex with me all the time, right?"

I laugh, then say, "I don't know why I'm laughing. I guess it sounded funny, but I do want to have sex with you all the time; yeah, you're right about that. As a matter of fact, I wish you'd fuck me right now, right here."

He frowns, "Hey, I can't always be the top. That's not fair to you. We need to take turns being the bottom boy, okay?"

"I'll be fair, but Christ Almighty, it's just that you do the top guy part so well. I thought maybe you'd be our main guy/guy top. Not a hundred percent of the time if you don't want to, but most of the time, ya know? And as your bottom boy, I'd always be ready to suck your dick whenever you said to do it. That would be my thing the majority of the time. Then we'd occasionally switch, um, when you insisted."  As I get four individually wrapped slices of American cheese from the refrigerator, he mumbles, "Did you say Guy/guy?" 

"Sorry; I stuttered for a second. I meant top guy." Back out on the porch, Ronny is carrying the rolls, and I am carrying the cheese and a spatula. Ronny says, "Actually, that sounds okay, I guess. I want to make you happy, Wallingford. Everything should probably be fifty/fifty, though."

He didn't seem too thrilled about the fifty-fifty part, and I'm not either, but I laughed and mumbled, "It seems to me that we both want to be the bottom boy, so it'll have to be fifty/fifty, although I'll be glad to be  the bottom much more than that if you want." He puts the rolls on the little side table, then from behind, he hugs me around my waist, humping me a little, mumbling, "We can decide that together, but what I'm pretty sure of is we're going to set world records for having sex together, Wallingford. This is so new to me I'm like a little kid who just got a job in a candy factory."

I turn around and look him in the eyes, "And the marvelous thing is, it's not just the sex that's so thrilling. Sure, our sex has been fantastic beyond belief, but most of the time we spend together, we won't be having sex. Instead, we'll be excited and sexually aroused just being with one another, which is why, as you said earlier, we'll be inseparable." He nods and murmurs, "Plus, I get to look at you. I get to have the cutest boyfriend of anyone I've ever known. Can you believe that? Me having the cutest sexiest boyfriend?"

"Stop putting yourself down. You're fantastic, Ronny! Um, but what exactly do you like best about my cute face? Haha, I'm kidding!" He snickers, "I like everything about you, Wallingford..."

After finishing the grilling, eating the cheeseburgers, and drinking our Cokes, we discussed our date tomorrow night and when I'll pick Ronny up at his house. That's a definite date, no matter what else happens. It's fun planning what we'll do together and watching Ronny get uber-excited. Even though he's mature-looking and acting, at times, he can still seem like an excited little kid.

Then, upstairs in my bathroom, we both peed, washed our hands and face, and Ronny patiently watched me brush my teeth. When I'm done, I hand him the toothbrush, and he reloads it with toothpaste and uses it as I rinse my mouth. Of course, we'd share the toothbrush! As we get undressed in my bedroom, I say, "You've been fantastic topping me. Wow, you've been fucking me awesomely, Ronny. So, um, ah, are you okay with being the top guy one more time tonight, in my bed this time? If you want me to switch, I will... reluctantly. "

We take everything off, socks included. Then, standing here naked, Ronny pulls on his three-inch flaccid dick, looking me in the eyes, saying, "Because I'm in love with you, Wallingford, I'll finish tonight's date as the top. This is a miracle, though. I mean, I've only topped once, um, or it's twice before in my life, and tonight, I've done it four or five times. Tomorrow night, though, you should probably be the top guy. at least part of the time."

Grinning, "Well, as I told you, I prefer being the bottom boy. As for tomorrow night, um, I need to confess that I have hardly any experience topping. I'm like you, Ronny. I've only been the top guy one time in my life. I did okay, though, and I'll do my duty as your boyfriend tomorrow night because that's what you want." He nods, "I want to be fair. And, hey, as the top guy, you can spank your bottom boy if you want." 

Fluffing the pillow and then shrugging, I say, "I don't know about that, but I sucked and licked a guy's foot one time. I'll do it for you, no problem. I'm not counting anything out, no matter how bizarre, because how bizarre have we been tonight? Gawd, we've been fucking like wild animals out of control. So, spanking or licking feet could be sexy activities to explore together, as hard to believe as that is. I never thought those words would ever come out of my mouth."

Moving to get comfortable together on my bed, Ronny gropes his short penis, "Heh-heh, I'm getting a boner just imagining your tongue on my toes, Wallingford. Anyway, tonight, I've been getting off being your top guy, and I gotta tell you this is the best night of my life. No other time even comes close to tonight."

This might be the best night of my life, too, but I'll need to think more about it. What I still find notable is Ronny never mentioning the small size of his dick. You'd think he'd be self-conscious about it. I would be very self-conscious. Nobody had anything to do about the size of their dick, the color of their eyes, how tall they are, etc., but still, it's your dick, and I'd be self-conscious if mine was only three inches long. 

I mumble, "Oh man, Ronny, your boner has felt perfect in my ass. It's a good size for me, but, um, that is, have you ever thought that maybe ah..." I figured he'd follow up with a comment about the size of his dick, wishing he had a bigger one. Instead, he gets his arms around me, "Thanks for telling me my fucking is making you feel good, but I already knew I was doing that from your reactions and expressions. That's one of the most spectacular aspects of tonight, Wallingford. I mean, the part about me being like a stud fucking you so well, maybe the best fucks you've ever experienced. Obviously, our penises aren't especially big; they're both pretty much average sizes, but an average size penis can still make a guy's rectum dance, right? Like mine is doing for your ass." 

What the fuck? He's lumping my five-inch, above-average-size penis in with his tiny three-inch one? Good God, does he need glasses? Looking at his face, expecting him to grin or laugh, but instead, he looks back at me and, in a serious manner, asks, "What?" 

To cover up what I'm thinking, "Oh, I just remembered, Ronny. I've got condoms in the drawer there. In the drawer of that bedside table on the right." He rolls onto his side, looking at me, and says, "Fuck condoms! The time I tried using a condom, I had no luck. It wouldn't stay on. If you think you need the lubricant, you can use the lubricant on the outside of one of your condoms."

I roll over to the end of the mattress and get a condom packet from the drawer, keeping my face hidden because he could tell from my expression that I was trying not to burst out laughing. Of course, a condom will slide off that little dick of his." Ripping a condom packet open as I roll back over next to him again, I lift my ass, reach under and wipe lubricant on my anus as Ronny again grabs a fistful of my longish curly hair, saying, "Please tell me that you're not still thinking of getting the too-short butch haircut that Billy wants you to get. I like your hair! It's pretty and goes with your cute face."

I shrug, "Well, thanks, but I don't know what I'll do. Some of it depends on Billy and what he does. Tomorrow is going to be, um, complicated with me telling him about us and all. Um, but I was wondering, um, speaking of our dicks a minute ago, ah, I wonder what exactly the average size for a human penis is? Do you know, Ronny?"

Nodding, "Yeah, I know. Well, I should say I know the result of the BJU International survey. They concluded the average male penis, when flaccid, is 3.61 inches. So, you and I are pretty much exactly there at the average." "Oh, uh-huh, you mean if we take an inch off one and add it to the other? Yep, I suppose you're right. Ah, not that it matters."

Lying on his back, I can see his hand under the covers playing with his dick as he mutters, "Huh, take an inch. Whaddaya mean?" and I hold out the condom, ignore his question, and mumble, "Here, wipe some lubricant on your boner." Pushing the covers to our knees, Ronny wipes lubricant on the pointy head of his hard dick, then wipes some lube on the shaft. Holding the condom with two fingers, he gives it to me, muttering, "Thanks. This was another good idea you had." 

I don't know why I'm fixated on penis size. So what that Ronny's penis is below average. I've never been fucked better than him doing me with that undersized penis. Yes, a lot has to do with me being completely captivated by Ronny, and anything he does will be awesome as far as I'm concerned, but it really does feel fantastic when he fucks me. Totally fantastic beyond belief. It's a mystery.

Putting the condom and wrapper in the drawer, I cuddle next to Ronny, who puts his arms around my neck and, with his other hand, grabs a handful of my curly hair for the tenth time tonight, saying, "It's none of my business, and I hope I'm not beating a dead horse here, but I don't want you to get that stupid haircut that Underwood likes. Maybe it's because he likes it that I don't want you to get it. I'm sorry if that makes me sound like a selfish asshole, but I'm jealous of you still loving him." Pulling on my fistful of hair, Ronny continues mumbling, "So what if there are too many curls?" He grins and pulls my hair harder, looking for a reaction.

"Ow, that hurt! I agree with you, though. On the other hand, I hate hurting Billy's feelings." With one last tug on my hair, he lets go of it and says, "Sure, I understand, but you're going to hurt his feelings anyway by telling him that you're dumping him to be my boyfriend, so you'll get it all over with all at once. Jesus, I'm sounding like a pushy prick, and I don't want to. It's just I want you all to myself."

This is going to be so hard! I'm like, "Billy's done so much good for me. He taught me how to have some fun in life. Um, would you be with me when I tell him about us?"

"Nope, no way. Ah, I'm afraid Underwood will blame me for this, and I don't want to get in a fight with him. Um, and I hate to mention the obvious, but Wallingford, after dumping Underwood, you will need to have the same conversation with Summers."

What?

He sounds emotional, adding, "I feel bad that you'll be stressed doing that, but I swear I'll make you glad you're my boyfriend. And, Goddammit, I'm getting a tear in my eye, but I can't stop loving you, but you need to stop fucking other guys!"

Holy shit, he does have tears in his eyes. I gently say, "You're a sweet guy, Ronny, and I'm proud you think you love me, but it's not love you're feeling." Christ, I sound like Billy did whenever I mentioned love to him. Then I ask, "And why must I tell Pat anything? He's not my boyfriend."

"No, but he's been fucking you, right?"

"Oh. Well, oh, uh-huh, yeah, I guess you're right about that, but..." And it hit me like a ton of bricks: "Um, no, of course, you're right. Hell, I know from now on, it has to be just you and me, right?"

Our sides are touching, lying here on the bed as the significance of what I just said hits home. Ronny goes up on an elbow and slides his free hand down my chest, then my stomach, and then his fingers tightly go around my dick. He's leaning down, his face close to mine, as he murmurs, "Yes, just us, Wallingford. I'm sorry, but I'm not like Underwood. I can't share you." We're looking into one another's eyes, Ronny very serious, squeezing my dick, murmuring, "I even feel as if this, your penis, belongs to me now. That's crazy and unrealistic, but that's how I feel. I feel as if, from now on, you're exclusively mine. I can't bear the thought of anyone else so much as touching you."

My heart beats fast as he strokes my dick, then kisses me and asks, "Are you going to be okay with that?" Feeling dizzy, in another Ronny-induced trance, I nod my head, "Okay, un-huh... yes, and you too, Ronny. You're exclusively mine from now on." Letting go of my firm dick, he puts his left leg over my legs, then slowly lies on me, his dick and balls squishing mine. He murmurs, "I've never even had a puppy-love boyfriend, so being exclusively someone is a dream come true, and it's you who makes it perfect. You make me crazy with desire. Holy shit, my heart is going to beat its way out of my chest."

Then, his mouth covers mine, and we do a slow, dreamy, tongue-sucking, lip-sucking kiss as our hips hump gently, our cocks pumping each other up until both our penises are hard erections for the fifth or sixth time tonight. Ronny's face hovering above mine murmurs, "You're so cute, and you kiss good too. Oh God, I'm so lucky you don't care that I'm not at all attractive or cool, but you love me anyway."

My heart is beating as fast as his. Our dicks, rubbing together, are as hard as they're going to get; his boner's slippery with lube and sliding over mine. With a quiet moan, he grinds his hips, and I do the same; then we take deep breaths, and I say, "We can say we're in love for now, Ronny, and maybe you're right that we are..." and his mouth is on mine again for what I called a lover's kiss when Billy and I kissed like this. He moves his hips again, and his dick slides all slippery on mine. I grunt, then, "Oh my God, my cock is so hard, Ronny..."

He bites his bottom lip and, without being abrupt about it, gets one leg and then the other between mine, murmuring, "Sorry. I'm not ignoring what you said. It's that I'm having trouble talking because I'm so anxious to fuck you again. Actually, I feel like I'm going to cum any second now. Oooohh, fuccck, could you please lift your knees?"

My hands were lightly holding onto his hips, but now as I lifted my legs, my hands were behind my knees, pulling my legs back, bringing my asshole up off the bed. With a gasping inhale and exhale, Ronny pumps his hard boner against my anus, and the head goes inside like a hot knife through butter. Another hump and all of his hard, almost four-inch boner goes up my ass as I moan, "Ronny..." my back arching, then, "Ooh, Ronny, feels good..." 

His boner almost has an average diameter and girth, and, yeah, it's nearly four inches long when engorged to its maximum size. All kidding aside, it feels surprisingly fantastic inside me. No pain at all with the lubricant in play, and his boner hits all the pleasure notes, getting them swarming off my prostate and around my anus. Plus, I love having a guy's cock inside me... period! That's an enormous sexual turn-on for me, and physiologically, I love that it's a naked skin flute in there, and the number one turn-on is that it's Ronny hard penis..

Even though we've already had four or five climaxes, I thought we would pop another one immediately, but we didn't. Ronny fucked me steadily for about fifteen minutes. Fifteen long minutes of erotic bliss, steadily driving his almost four inches in and back, my rectum singing with sexual pleasure vibrations. We kissed like lovers, and in my confused mind, I began thinking I was wrong about us not being in love. Ronny's correct that, as unlikely as it is, we are in love! It sure seems we are, even though we hardly know one another. I settle on the concept that I'm in love with him this minute; that's true enough.

Ronny gasps, "I'm gonna cum, Wallingford. Oh God! I'm cuming, Wallingford!" I didn't feel it, but I don't doubt that he shot something out of his cock. My eyes were tightly closed, and my jaw clenched as I grunted, "Ahh, ahh, ooooh!" and blew my small squirt of cum-like matter. It went 'splat' against Ronny's belly. He dropped onto me, his dick pulling out of my ass to lie stickily against my belly as my plop of cum squished between us.

With my eyes still closed, Ronny's body lying on me feels almost identical to Billy's; their bodies are that similar. I'd know the difference, though, because of their different scents, both sexily intoxicating. There isn't much difference in how it felt being fucked by my other three top guys. The main difference between Billy's five-inch boner and Ronny's is that his is fatter than Ronny's. Um, on the other hand, the difference between Pat's and Ronny's boners' length, yeah, that is noticeable. Same for Malcolm's cock, which isn't much longer than Billy's, but is much, much fatter.

As I'm thinking about penis size comparisons, it occurs to me, as Ronny's bottom boy, there won't be any more big dicks fucking my ass. I'm not concerned about that, though, because Ronny's fucking has been sexually satisfying beyond words. And why is that? We don't know what's happening. Neither of us is experienced enough to know why this unprecedented mutual infatuation seems undeniable. It had to have been a tremendous surge of chemicals in our brains that happened simultaneously and formed a connection between us that's been euphoric and exhilarating beyond words. Presently, we remain entirely engulfed in these exquisite sensations. As to what caused the surge of chemicals, we remain ignorant and care less about that by the minute. Somehow, and for some reason, I have a strong sense our exhilaration will be long-lasting, but still, my question hovers above it all... is it love? Can it be love without knowing anything about your imagined lover?

Hmm, we can be in love with the little we know of each other until we know more about one another. Then, we can see if we can still be in love when the new information is added to the stew. That was a complicated thought, but I like that as a rationalization for our being in love for this moment, so I'm leaving it at that for now. We're in love with what little we know of one another, which has been pretty much exclusively sexual so far.

And, as we've done every climactic sex act, Ronny and I again get into a delirious make-out, rubbing and groping each other, all of it an indication of love or maybe an appreciation for one another as sex partners, or both. Also, from my point of view, he smells and feels wonderful; his badly cut hair is clean and thick with tons of body—beautiful hair and far superior to my golden, curly, out-of-control locks.

Taking a break from trying to devour one another, I murmur, "At the risk of sounding like a girl, your hair feels awesome and looks so much better than mine. You're lucky, and your body is tighter and smoother than mine as well. Plus, you're fantastic at hugging and kissing, and I'm so lucky you want to do all this with me. I'm thrilled to be your boyfriend."

He murmurs, "Stop it! You're too nice! Jeez, you'll have me crying, Wallingford. No one has ever been as nice to me as you. You make me feel good about myself. I mean, you could have any boyfriend you wanted, but you chose me."

"Get real! It's you who is too complimentary. I'm lucky to be with you. Oh, Jesus, I just thought of something. What if Billy hadn't set us up on this date? We'd never have known we were meant for one another. That's so fucking scary to think about!"

He nods, "Holy shit, yeah. but we would have met somehow. I know we would have." With my arms around his neck, I whisper, "Stay with me tonight, please! I don't want you to go; you can hear how hard it's raining out there. You can't ride a motorbike forty minutes through Philly on a pitch-black rainy night like this!"

He asks, "But what will your parents say? It'd be embarrassing in the morning, and I have an early exam tomorrow, plus I don't have a change of clothes. I left my other clothes at Underwood's house. He's bringing them with him tomorrow morning, but they're dirty clothes anyway."

Hugging him, "I don't care. Stay with me, and I'll find clothes for you to wear. Um, and in the morning, I'll explain to my parents you and I are gay boyfriends. I'll come right out with it. I mean, I've got to come 'out' to them sometime, and you'll be helping me. As you said, we will be inseparable boyfriends who will get to know each other inside and out. We'll fall in love with each new thing we discover, and, as you told me, we'll get married after living together through college." 

"Holy shit, Wallingford! Um, okay, let's do everything you said." We hug and kiss, and a little later, Ronny gets his dick up my ass again. I'm moaning at the extreme pleasure of feeling dominated. I lie on my stomach in ecstasy, pushing my ass up for him as he fucks me for hours and hours. Not really, but it was a long time, although we never did reach another climax. Eventually, he stopped, sighed, and pulled his dick out, then flopped down beside me, saying in my ear, "My dick hurts. How's your ass?"

"Sore, but it felt so good I didn't care how sore it got." My fingers go through his hair as I murmur, "You're staying with me tonight. In the morning, I'll be the top guy and fuck you so hard you'll squeal like a girl in heat."

Grinning, he mutters, "As great as that sounds..." he rolls away from me and gets out of bed. Then, stepping into his underpants, the pair I was wearing, he grins again, "Sorry, Wallingford, but I knew you'd hold onto me in bed if I didn't move off it quickly. You're too brave for me. I'd pee my pants in the morning if you told your parents we're gay boyfriends. They've never laid eyes on me in their lives. What would they think?"

I mutter, "Okay, I was never going to do that, anyway. I lied. So, forget about me telling my parents, but stay with me tonight, Ronny. C'mon, we're inseparable."

He mumbles, "Unfortunately, one of us must occasionally be the killjoy adult. I suppose it's me because I'm the oldest, but I don't fucking like it. The reality is, it's too crazy and complicated for me to stay here tonight and face your parents in the morning. And I mean even if we don't mention that we're boyfriends. And as for riding my bike on a rainy night, I rode back from the Poconos one night last September in a pitch-black thunderstorm. Lightning and thunder followed me all the way home. Exhilarating!"

Getting out of bed and pulling on my underwear, I mumbled, "Well, at least I got you to admit you're the adult for us. I don't need to worry about being in that position, which I would suck at. You'll need to be my man." We get dressed in our clothes and sneakers, and then Ronny hugs me, "I don't want to be the bossy adult or your man. Neither of us is any good at being either."

Joining in on the hug, then leaving my arms around him, I say, "But you seem so mature at times, Ronny; I thought you'd naturally be our bossy adult."

We both snicker, then he mutters, "And I look mature too, Wallingford, but I'm no more mature than most guys my age. Ha, I shouldn't need to tell you that since you've witnessed my behavior tonight. Anyway, I turned twenty last month, which is too young to be an adult. You and I will need to wing it regarding adult behavior. We sure as shit haven't displayed anything resembling that tonight."

Stopping in the bathroom, we clean up a little, then comb our hair. Dropping the comb, I mutter, "Fuck, I can't do the pompadour Pat Summers showed me. My hair is too curly now. The longer it gets, the curlier it gets." He turns me to him, then gets the comb and tries combing my bangs to the side without much success. I mutter, "You see what I've had to deal with all my life?"

Shrugging, he drops the comb, "Yeah, but don't get that dumb haircut Underwood likes. You're my boyfriend now." Walking downstairs, I say, "Well, what kind of haircut should I get?" At the front door, he says, "Haha, that's something an adult would be happy to tell you, but I don't know what to tell you. Just don't get Underwood's haircut, okay?"

Again rubbing my fingers through his hair, I mutter, "You've got a lot of nerve giving me shit about my choice of a haircut when your hair, as perfect as it is, looks like shit because Charlie can't cut hair for shit. You need to do something about your hair, too; never mind what I do!"

Shrugging, "Yeah, I suppose you're right, and I'm going to so something about it. Would you please text me after you tell Underwood about us? It'll be awkward being in the room with him taking the final exam, but I've got to face him. And the thing is, I'm like you in that I idolize Billy."

"Yep, me too. Um, I'm sorry, but I'll probably do whatever Billy wants me to do about the haircut. He jokes about magic in those butch haircuts, so we'll see about that once and for all." He quickly kisses me and says, "Hmm, this is interesting, Wallingford! I finally was able to kiss you without wanting to attack you and fuck your brains out. Haha, what a fabulous night I had, though. You're a dream come true for me. Thank you!"

Another quick kiss, and he opens the front door, and I say, "Holy shit, it's still raining hard, Ronny."  Snickering, he says, "Nah, this is a typical pleasant spring rain and not a problem." He puts on his helmet and, carrying the helmet I used, he grins, "Good luck with, you know, telling Underwood. Text me..." He walks to his motorbike, fires it up, and takes off without looking back.

Omigod! I stared at the last spot he was at before he turned the corner out of sight; the soft spring rain was blowing in the door a little bit. Shaking my head slightly and smiling, I say out loud,  "What the fuck happened tonight?" To say this was unexpected is a massive understatement, like watching an alien materialize in my living room. Tonight was that level of unexpected. Ronny Lynch, oh, my goodness!

To be continued...