Boy Story: The Road Taken - 58. Number Nine

Number Nine

I awoke in the morning with a big yawn. In my field of view, I noticed a set of expectant blue eyes glued to me. I turned my head toward them and said, “Hi there.”

“Hi, what’s up?” I heard from behind those eyes.

“Not me,” I joked.

“Well, that would be a first,” he shot back with a smirk.

“And you are usually the cause of it, you little minx,” I reminded him.

“I’m not complaining. I always like when you show it off, especially in public.”

“What do you mean? I don’t show it off in public.”

“You don’t think so? There aren’t many places a 9-inch slab of meat can hide inside a pair of classic style jeans. Now people on campus say, Hey, there’s Parker and his friend with the big dick!” Parker declared.

“They do not!”

“Then how does everybody know you are huge downstairs?” he teased.

“Everybody? You are full of shit!”

“No actually, I am full of cum, but that’s a technicality.”

“Parker, if anyone knows, it’s because you told them!” I scolded him.

“Relax, I only told Marlene and Joanne that you are big downstairs. They asked how big? And I said ‘like 9 inches’. They agreed that’s big.”

“Parker, I don’t have 9 inches (23 cm)!” I asserted.

“I bet you do.”

“How do you know if you’ve never measured it?” I questioned him.

“Well, it’s actually quite simple,” he began. “My ex had 7 inches exactly. I know what 7 inches (17¾ cm) feels like in my throat. Yours goes down further by about 2 inches. And 7 plus 2 equals 9.”

Parker had this all figured out. Maybe I did have 9 inches. I’d never measured it before, but I always figured 8 inches because 9 seemed like a lot.

“OK, let’s settle this once and for all. Parker, can you go into the drawer in the nightstand next to you and take out the tape measure?” I directed.

“Oooh, I like where this is going,” he said as he opened the drawer. I had one of those tailor tape measures stashed away that I found years ago and never had a use for. “This?” he asked holding the yellow ribbon of numbers.

“Yeah, that’s it. Bring it here,” I suggested.

“Only one problem,” he began, “you aren’t hard.”

“Oh…right.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got your back…or cock in this case!” Parker pulled back the covers and got right down to business. As always, my member was quite responsive.

“Hey Parker, don't forget to stop and get a measurement before you finish me off, OK?”

“Um hmm.”

About five minutes later…“Parker, I’m really close…you’d better stop.”

“All right,” he replied reluctantly pulling it out of his mouth.

“You can have it back as soon as we measure,” I informed him.

It was kind of odd because we were both kneeling down staring at my substantial boner. It stayed quite hard because all the attention was kind of turning me on. “So how do we measure?” I queried.

“Well, the proper way is to take two measurements. One across the top from the pubic bone…” He placed the tape measure from the pubic bone to the tip. “Hmm, that’s just over 8 and 1/2 inches. Then we measure along the bottom from where the ball sack begins to the tip.” He moved the tape into position and took the reading, “Wow, 9 and 1/2 inches! And when we average the two measurements together, that’s 9. See? I was right.”

I couldn’t argue that. Geez, I guess I did have 9 inches after all.

“Now, I get to finish you off!”

I couldn’t argue that either. We were indisposed for the next 15 minutes.

Once he was finished with his morning feeding, I asked, “So how’s your butt hole feeling today?”

“Hmm, I kinda forgot about it. It feels like it's back to its normal self,” he confirmed. “Wanna see?” He turned around on all fours and spread his butt cheeks. His boy hole was happily closed up tight again.

“Hey, you’re right. And what a nice bum it is,” I said as I ran my hands all over his mounds, squeezing where appropriate. I couldn’t resist bending down and kissing each of his smooth round globes.

“See any of your cum down there?” Parker kidded.

I almost forgot what is probably beyond that pucker. It’s a good thing I didn’t decide to eat his ass. I wouldn’t have enjoyed that...at least I don't think so.

“Let's take a shower now or else it could ooze out later when I least expect it,” Parker suggested. “But give me 10 or 15 minutes to use the can first.”

He used our private entrance, and I stayed in bed until I heard the shower running. I rolled out of bed and joined him in the shower. When we were adequately showered and clean, we dried off, got dressed, and headed downstairs for breakfast…making sure to leave both beds unmade for visual evidence that we didn’t sleep together.

My parents had told Parker that he could stay as long as he wanted. He informed us all that since the local commuter rail station also functions as an Amtrak station, he could take the train to Maine to visit his father. This would be the perfect time. He asked if I would be willing to drive him to the train station and then pick him up on the return in two days. How could I refuse? The train station might have been all of two miles from my house. After I thought about it, I suggested that when he returned I'd drive him home, which meant we would be staying at his place for the remainder of the school break. I was thinking the difference between my house and his is that there was always someone home at my place. At least at his place we'd have a little more privacy for the duration, plus we'd be better situated to return to campus in a few days.

As we made our way downstairs, my mother called out from the kitchen. “Matthew, I’m making French toast for your father. Do you want me to make some more for you boys as well?”

I looked at Parker. I had no idea if he liked French toast. He shook his head “yes.”

“Sure, Mom, that would be great.”

“Are two slices each going to be enough because we have bacon, sausages, and hash browns as well?” she inquired.

“Yeah, that should be perfect. Thanks!” I said.

When we went into the den to wait, we happened upon my father who was just getting a fire going in the fireplace.

“Good morning boys. Once I get this going, we can warm our chilled bones by the fire. It’s absolutely frigid out, but at least it didn’t snow again!” my father informed us.

It had snowed quite a bit throughout the month of December, so there was a perpetual coating on everything outside.

“So what are your plans for today?” my father queried.

What plans? It was freezing outside, so our options were limited.

“It’s so cold out, there’s not much we can do,” I sighed.

“Well, you can take the toboggan in my truck to the hill at the golf course. Since it’s a four-person toboggan, you should ask Missy to go with you…that’s three…and maybe she has a friend.” Parker looked at me with wide eyes. I could tell he was interested, so why not?

Breakfast was served and, as if on cue, my sister entered the room and sat at the table. She was always kind of quiet first thing in the morning before her brain became engaged.

I waited until we were nearly finished eating before I explained that we were in need of more people for tobogganing. She said, “Are you serious?”

“Aw, c’mon remember how much fun it used to be when we were kids? This may be the last time we ever get to do this. I even have a spare ski ensemble that doesn’t fit me anymore, so it should be a perfect fit for Parker.”

“C’mon, it'll be an adventure!” Parker added trying to sway her.

“Well…alright.” It seemed to me that she gave in too easily. I had the distinct feeling that if Parker wasn't there, she wouldn’t have been as interested. But we did have a lot of fun with the toboggan back when we were kids, so who knows?

“One thing though... you have to bring a friend so we have four,” I added.

She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

And that’s how it happened. It was me, my pre-fiancée, my sister, and her occasional same sex partner, Sasha, riding a four-person toboggan down the big snowy hill at the golf course. On the steepest part of the hill, there was a little jump at the bottom that had developed naturally over time. After several attempts to successfully negotiate the jump without wiping out, we abandoned that side of the hill and stuck with the smoother, longer-riding section.

The toboggan episode proved to be a very good bonding experience for the four of us. Parker always managed to bring out the playful side of my personality, and the girls really responded to the whole adventure. Parker and I didn’t keep it a secret that we knew they had been intimate, and sometimes we would tease them about it. It was all in good fun as we let them know it was OK if they were lesbian because we were happy as a same-sex couple. Both girls claimed to be straight and their relationship was mostly the result of experimentation and convenience.

“We are two straight girls who enjoy something a little different every now and then,” Sasha declared.

“I can understand that,” I replied.

“Me too,” Parker added. “But don’t you miss having a cock around.”

“That’s why we reserve the right to be straight,” Missy added.

“Yup, that’s the power of the penis,” Parker managed to squeeze out right before I hit him mid torso with a snowball.

“Oh, now you’re going to get it!” Parker called out as he tried to make a snowball. Too late, I tackled him and had him pinned in the snow. I was sitting on top of him and we were both laughing.

Missy turned to a bewildered Sasha and said, “It’s a gay thing.”

I don’t know, there was this occasional compulsion to invent a scenario where I could force contact with Parker without drawing suspicion. And by the same token, Parker would sometimes do it back to me…to my delight. Therefore, these bouts of wrestling or piggybacks or horseplay would fill that need of touch without it looking out of character in public. I don’t know if all same-sex couples experience this same dynamic in their relationship, but I’d suddenly feel this overwhelming urge to—for want of a better word—molest Parker. And I mean “molest” as in "to bother or tease" in a caring way, without any mistreatment or abuse.

That’s just about the point when Parker tried to embarrass me by pumping his hips upward into me and grunting.

“Gee, you two…get a room!” Sasha commented. I rolled off of Parker and we both lay in the snow giggling.

Nearly three hours in the great outdoors later, we felt too cold to continue, so we packed up and piled into the truck. Every kilometer I drove that pickup, I was envisioning that toasty fire my dad had going. Upon arrival, we all gathered in front of the fireplace to defrost.

“So how was the tobogganing?” my father asked.

“It was a blast!” Parker called out.

We all nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it was a lot of fun…cold, but fun.”

“There’s something about tobogganing that always produces happy faces. It works every time,” my father said. He was right. We were talking and laughing in front of the fire while my father was beaming in his favorite recliner. Parker discretely slid his supporting hand over mine. The girls noticed and smiled. I was positioned in such a way that blocked my father from seeing us holding hands.

After we were warmed up, Parker and I went upstairs to change clothes.

“Oh, I like those jeans,” Parker cooed.

“These? Oh, I’ve had them forever,” I replied.

“I don’t think they’ve grown with you because you’re displaying quite a package in the front. But it is hot!”

“Oh!” I said as I looked down. There was a definite something there, but I figured it was just the cut of the jeans. “Really? Is it that noticeable?”

“Well, I’m probably not the best person for an objective opinion because I’m always staring at your crotch anyway. Why don’t you ask the girls for a critique,” Parker suggested.

We both went downstairs and walked over to where Missy and Sasha were sitting at the table flipping through a high school yearbook. We both stood before them.

“What?” Missy asked looking up at us.

“Matt wants to know how these jeans look on him.”

“Why?”

“We're having a debate here whether they still fit or not,” Parker explained.

“OK, fine, let me see,” she said removing her reading glasses. She glanced at the jeans, “Yeah, they fit.”

“Wait, wait, look closely,” Parker pointed out.

“Mmm, alright, let’s see,” she replied.

“Spin around, let them see,” Parker directed.

“They do seem a little tight in the seat,” Sasha commented.

“Turn around,” Parker suggested.

Then Sasha said, “Gee Matt what’s going on in the front. What have you been feeding that thing?”

“Parker,” I replied.

Missy gasped and that got us all laughing.

As all vacations go, this one flew by and we were back on campus in a blink. One interesting thing that happened before we went back is that Parker came out to his dad during his visit in Maine. He said he wasn’t planning to, but his father’s religious fervor seemed to have waned over the years. Parker said that he was sitting on the porch one night just rapping with his father about life like a couple of regular guys. Parker saw the opportunity and came out to him.

“You know the funny thing?” Parker remarked. “My father said maybe I shouldn't tell my mother because she might not be as understanding. Ha ha!”

Once school was back in session, swimming was also back in full swing for another month followed by the NCAA New England Regional Men's Swimming & Diving Championships (they just call them the Regionals) for those who qualify. Needless to say, I was once again the sole bottom in bed during this period. Parker said he wished I could fuck myself so I could see how skilled I had become. Had I gotten so good at it or did Parker just really enjoy banging my “hot ass” as he called it? It didn’t matter because I enjoyed feeling like a total slut for a while...although technically I don’t think I would be considered a slut if all activities were with my significant other. But all labels aside, I enjoyed it.

The NCAA Regional Championships were hosted by a college in central Vermont that year. I offered to drive a group up from our school because swimming in the Regionals is a huge honor. It was a drive of just about three hours each way and would require a two-night hotel stay. I went with Joe, Joe’s roommate Josh, Marlene, and Joanne, and we caravanned in two cars.

Parker got special permission from his coach to stay in a hotel apart from the team. He lied and said his family was staying in town and he wanted to stay with them. This is a frequent request with college swimmers. They just have to get permission from the coach. It's just a formality of filling out information where they will be staying, so the coach can keep track of where all of his swimmers are. We decided to spend the extra cash and stay in a more upscale hotel than the team…mainly so Parker’s lie was not uncovered. We had three rooms for the six of us, two to a room. Parker slept with me in my room for the two nights. The rest of the time he was with his team for practices, the competition, and team events (meals, photos, etc.).

It was quite the event. The town was small, but everything was centered on the swimming competition for that weekend. They really went all out. Main Street was decked out with swimming banners and garland strung along the perimeter.

In the end, our swim team finished 9^th out of 24 teams competing. The high points were Parker placing 6^th overall in the 200 meter backstroke, 8^th in the 400 meter backstroke, and our A Relay Team (which Parker was now part of) placed 4^th overall.

“Can you believe it? I placed 6^th overall in the 200 and I wasn’t even planning on swimming in college!” Parker said to us after the competition.

Although he didn’t win any individual medals, he was happy he did so well. And of course, the “no bottoming” moratorium was lifted and—when we got back to campus—I gave him what he deserved…and he was awarded a sore ass for two days. Be careful what you wish for.

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