Date: Fri, 30 Nov 2018 19:24:42 +0000 (UTC)
From: Bill <mgtbill@aol.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter  21

DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter  21

by  Donny Mumford


Late Thursday afternoon I'm wiping sweat out of my eyes walking into the
apartment with Pony. We just finished a forty-five-minute workout at the
fitness center and prior to that, we ran around Merrimack's track too many
times. So, am I feeling healthy and invigorated after today's exercise? Not
really, but I feel okay. Pony, metaphorically speaking, barely broke a
sweat but then he's much younger than me, almost a whole year younger,
haha. No, obviously it's because he exercises year-round whereas I do it
only sporadically. By sporadically I mean when I'm here at college and Pony
talks me into it.

So, big deal, I'll be sore tomorrow. I was wicked sore after the touch
football game last week too, but somehow being sore after doing something
athletic is um, psychologically kind of a good feeling. Pulling my
sweatshirt over my head and tossing it on a kitchen chair, I ask, "Do you
want something to drink?" Pony shakes his head, "Nah, I finished off that
second bottle of water on the way over here." I get a bottle of water for
myself and while drinking some of it I'm thinking that a cigarette would
balance out all that healthy activity.

Rob's not here. He and the other co-captains who are mentoring freshman
ballplayers, plus the freshman mentorees, stayed after practice
today. They're watching videos of how the freshmen are doing in the batting
cage facing college pitching and I assume the coaches are watching with
them. Anyway, Rob will text me when it's over and I'll pick him up, which
should be in about an hour.

Pony's leaning against the kitchen bar looking around at who-knows-what. I
ask him, "Um, Pony, would you care to join me for a smoke on the balcony?"
Without answering that, he gestures at the sofa, muttering, "New slipcover,
huh?" Jesus, that's observant of him. I'd never notice something like
that. I go, "Yeah it is. Rob and I bought it at Target yesterday. Ya know,
it's kinda creepy living with furniture that's been used by lots of people
before us. So ya know, we spruce up the place whenever we can. In this
case, the slipcover was necessary because some slob stained one of the sofa
cushions, and we didn't know what the stain was, so..."

He mumbles, "Too bad the stain soaked through the new slipcover, huh?"
Frowning at him, I'm like, "Um, that's a new stain. Hey, forget the fucking
sofa... let's have a smoke." He goes, "So, you and Rob basically just, um,
donate that new slipcover to this apartment. That seems dumb." I'm like,
"You've never rented a furnished apartment, have you?" He goes, "Nope," and
I'm like, "Well, there's a lot of things to deal with, but I don't feel
like explaining all of them to you right now, okay?"

Walking over to the sofa he points at the stain, asking, "Yeah but,
whaddaya think that could be?" I'm like, "Jesus, forget the stain! We'll
probably buy a new cushion or something. Ya see, it's like this... we'd
rather buy something inexpensive to correct a flaw instead of getting
frustrated from hassling with the people who are managing this
place. That's an example of things we've learned from experiencing
furnished-apartment living, little things we can do that make it more
palatable living with used furniture. For instance, every year we buy a
heavy-duty mattress covers for the bed and then just leave it on the
mattress at the end of the lease. Ya know, why the hell would we want it?"
He goes, "To use on your bed the next year." Oh man!

Taking my box of Marlboro cigarettes out of my pocket, I'm getting
frustrated again, mumbling, "Forget all that, okay?" He goes, "Sure, it's
not my money," and I'm like, "For Christ sake, it's an insignificant
expense considering the benefit! Why is that so hard to understand? Comfort
and peace of mind make it worth the small expense. I mean, think about it,
who the fuck knows what skin disease the people who slept in that bed last
year may have had? Flaking skin being absorbed into the mattress not to
mention bodily fluid emissions. Christ, this year Rob and I even bought a
new mattress!" Pony gives me an odd 'look', mumbling, "You guys are a
couple of germophobes, huh? You must have a difficult time on vacations." I
go, "Bite me! It's one thing spending a few days at some hotel and another
thing to LIVE in a place for almost nine months!"

He grins, muttering, "Chill out, okay?" I'm muttering, "The fucking
mattress cost us less than a hundred bucks each... on sale." He stretches
and then says, "Yeah, well, whatever. Um, what do you wanna do first... my
haircut or fuck me?" Holy shit! I didn't expect that! Goddamnit, we're
talking about the damn slipcover and then the mattress cover or... and then
that bombshell!

Trying for cool, I mumble, "Seriously? You think you're ready for sex? I
mean, with all the crap on your mind about your parents and, um, I
thought..." He takes a deep breath and says, "I'm good, Dylan. Like I said,
not counting blowing some guy last summer, the last sex I had was with you!
And, Jesus, that was over four months ago and I've been thinking about
nothing else since then." I go, "What? Who did you blow last summer?" He
goes, "Never mind," and I go, "So, you've thought of nothing else except
you and me fucking since then? That's, um, an exaggeration wouldn't you
say? I was gonna say that's 'bullshit' but considering your fragile
emotional condition I used a milder word." He grins, "Well, thanks for not
calling 'bullshit' on me. You're a prince, ya know that? Okay, maybe it was
a slight exaggeration. Yeah, I may have thought about something else once
or twice, but I'm definitely ready for sex now... especially with you."

I'm like, "It's good to see you're recovered well enough to begin
resurrecting some of your Ponyboy bratty 'act' from last year." He goes,
"It's not an act! It's just that you've helped me more than everybody else
combined. Me getting back to my old self is because of you." I mumble, "Oh
please, I'm tearing up here!" He chuckles, mumbling, "It's true." Realizing
I'm still holding my pack of Marlboro, I go, "Heh heh, I'm pleased you
think so, but how about if we grab that smoke? We can decide what we're
gonna do first while we have a cigarette, okay?" Shrugging, he goes, "Yeah,
okay," and he follows me out onto the balcony.

The month of September in New England offers a grab bag of weather
conditions. It can be summer-like temperatures for a couple of days and
then chilly or even downright cold the next few days. It's in a chilly
cycle now so, with a shiver, I'm taking a cigarette from my pack wishing I
still had my sweatshirt on. Before I close the top of my Marlboro Light box
Pony plucks out a cigarette for himself. Giving him a 'look', I mutter,
"Still not buying your own, huh?" He shrugs, "At home, I'd need to buy my
own except I don't smoke at home. And at college why would I buy when I can
bum smokes off you."  Snorting out a laugh, I ask, "Are you saying you
never smoke except when you're with me?" He goes, "Hardly ever. I mean
regular cigarettes. I smoke pot any time I can get it... here or at home."

Lighting both our cigarettes with my Bic lighter, I take a drag and after
exhaling a long stream of smoke, I ask, "Okay, let me ask you this. If I
was geeky enough to smoke a pipe, would you?" He nods, "Oh yeah,
probably. You're my hero but I'd need to use one of your pipes." That makes
me snicker and then, holding the cigarette between my teeth I reach over
and take Pony's glasses from him and try cleaning the lenses on my
t-shirt. He watches me do that as I'm saying, "Have you ever, since the
first day you got these glasses, even one time thought of cleaning them?"
He goes, "Of course! More than one time probably." I hold his glasses in
front of my eyes and everything looks blurry, so I mutter, "Fuck, how can
you see with these things on?" As I hand his glasses back to him, he
mumbles, "I'll pretend you didn't say something that stupid."

Grinning, I watch Pony put his glasses on and adjust then a little. Jeez,
he looks pretty cute in his new glasses. See, this is an example of how
something I initially didn't like can become something I do like when I get
used to it. Seeing Daryl wearing glasses has become one of those
'things'. I go, "So, are you still insisting you need another haircut a
mere two days after your last one?" He grins at me, mumbling, "Um, whaddya
you think I'm gonna say to that?"

Pony doesn't inhale when he pretends he's smoking and it always makes me
grin watching him trying not to cough when smoke accidentally gets
inhaled. That just happened and his face turns red as he's trying not to
cough. He coughs anyway and then he coughs again. His eyes are watering and
he's got a smirk on his face, muttering, "Damn, this is a good smoke!" I
laugh as he runs his fingers through his hair, seriously saying, "To answer
your question directly, yes, I still need you to give me another haircut
and I told you why." With my cigarette still between my teeth, I reach over
and run my fingers through his hair that's damp with perspiration, saying,
"I forget what you said the reason was." He goes, "It's because when you're
cutting my hair I have your undivided attention, plus I like when you're
touching me. And I might add you haven't been doing nearly enough touching
this year... just saying."

Taking my cigarette from my mouth, I chuckle again, muttering, "You're a
cute motherfucker, ain'tcha?" He shrugs and tried not to grin. I say, "No,
seriously, Daryl, I'm saving the touching for when you're cured." He shakes
his head, saying. "That's a crock right there, and don't forget you
promised me a shampoo and massage too." I laugh again. He makes me laugh a
lot. I like his bratty act which is so obviously a 'put on'. He probably
does it because he sees I still laugh at it and when I do he always grins
and then looks away. It helps that he's cute as a box full of puppies. I'm
a sucker for 'cute' guys.

Trying to get serious, I mutter, "Pony, you know as well as I do I didn't
promise you a fucking thing. You just assume I'll do whatever you want." He
goes, "Yeah, technically I suppose you never did promise, but will you
please do the things I assume you'll do for me? And I mean, start doing
them like right now." I snort out another chuckle before muttering, "I
suppose."

Jeez, looking out at the woods behind our building I'm happy with this
view! It's so much better than the view of a parking lot that we had last
year. Of course, I know there's a shopping center on the other side of the
trees, but I pretend I'm looking at a deep forest and I try not to notice
the cars I can see through the 'forest' in the shopping center's parking
lot.

Exhaling smoke, I look back at Pony and he goes, "If you're wondering why
I'm being quiet it's because I'm waiting for you to say you're happily
willing to do the shampoo, haircut, and a really good massage for me." I'm
like, "I already told you I would, but um, I'm still wondering about the
other thing you have on your mind." He goes, "You mean fucking me?" Haha, I
laugh and say, "What are we gonna do about your shyness? You need to get
over that." He says, 'Fuck shyness. I've been thinking about you fucking me
all summer. AND I'm still not over the disappointment of you backing out of
having me visit you last summer. It was an was enormous blow to my ego,
especially on top of all the other shit that was happening to me."

Shaking my head, I say, "You're misremembering again, Ponyboy. It was you
who couldn't visit me because you caught your brother's disease and then
there was the family vacation and then everything else. I wasn't the reason
you couldn't visit!" He goes, "Oh yeah, you're right. I don't know though,
the memories I had of our sex last year were so strong I was jerking off
all summer thinking about that and counting the days until we could do it
again. I'm hoping, fingers crossed, that today is the day. I mean, if you
still like me enough to want to do it with me." I go, "Sure I like you
enough, but..." and he interjects, "I'll even let you kiss me." I snort out
another laugh and he walks right up to me, saying, "Go ahead, it's
okay... you can kiss me." I go, "Not out here on the balcony! Someone might
see us and call the cops."

Oh man, normally guys don't just come right out and say shit like Pony
does. Why did I say, 'normally'? I should have said guys never ever come
out with shit like he says! I mean, nobody on this planet with Daryl being
the exception here, and I don't know about other planets. As I'm gently
pushing him away with a hand on his shoulder, I'm mumbling, "Take it easy,
um, what was that you said about a haircut?"

Omigod, he maneuvered me into bringing the haircut up again. He shrugs,
saying, "Oh, it's okay if you want to cut my hair first. That's fine too,
and, um, don't forget the other things I just mentioned..." He's trying not
to, but he can't help snickering and then saying, "I'm awfully
pathetic... I know that! I mean for taking advantage of how nice you are,
but I'm desperate! Forgive me, please! You know about the nightmare I've
been dealing with."

I go, "Damn, Pony, you're really, um, something. You know damn well I want
to do what I can to help you get over the tough times you've had, but let's
face it... no offense, but those tough times are ones you helped
create. Nevertheless, I'm your friend so naturally, I'm trying to make you,
um, feel better." He nods, "Yeah, I know that and I'm sorry for taking
advantage of your kindness, but desperate times, um... what's the rest of
that saying?" I mutter, "Desperate times call for desperate measures." He
goes, "That's the one, so you tell me... whaddaya wanna do first?" I
mumble, "Well, I can't have sex just like that! Not at the snap of your
fingers, so I guess we'll do the haircut even though, as I've said ten
times already, it's really, really dumb!"

I flick my cigarette butt over the railing and, whew, it makes it over this
time. It'd be embarrassing having my protege see my humiliating
butt-flicking handicap. He's smiling again as he drops his barely smoked
cigarette over the railing, saying, "Oh man I'm excited! You're the best,
Dylan!" What a con-artist! He's a cute one though and I can't help
chuckling as he claps his hands and adds, "Oh fuck, I dreamed about the
shampoo and massage every time I took a shower last summer. And it's
embarrassing to admit but when sleeping I had, um, whaddya call it when you
shoot off in your sleep?" I go, "What am I, Google? It's called a wet
dream... or officially it's a nocturnal emission I suppose. And please stop
asking me questions."

We go inside and as I'm closing the sliding glass doors, Pony rubs his
hands together smiling and asking another question, "So, should I bring the
desk chair to the bathroom now?" I go, "Oh, you remember that, huh?" He
says, "I remember every fucking detail. Do you have that short hose with
the spray nozzle?" Shaking my head, I go, "Sadly, no. Um, I'll use a cup to
pour water on your head... and maybe on your face too."

Chuckling, he goes, "No you won't, not on my face 'cause you're too
nice. I'll get the chair," and he looks at the open door at the end of the
short hall, asking, "Is that your bedroom?" I go, "No, that's the sunroom
where we're growing exotic plants. Of course, it's the bedroom! The
bathroom is the first door on your left." He mutters, "I figured that's
what it was," and he heads for the bedroom as I go in the kitchen and look
in the refrigerator, and yes... Rob bought beer! There are two six packs of
Miller Lite just chillin' on the lower shelf. Ya know, after working out
and running and whatnot, a beer does the body good because of its protein
and carb-rich qualities... or is that pasta?

Carrying the beer bottle with me to the bathroom I find Pony grinning while
spreading his hands, like: ''Let's go'. He's already taken off his shirt
and sitting in the chair that he's properly situated facing away from the
sink. Holding up the hand towel he took off a hook behind the door, he
says, "You put this behind my neck for comfort, right?" He didn't forget a
thing. Rubbing his head, I go, "Ya know, Pony, I've missed you. Have I
mentioned that yet?" He goes, "Nope, but I know you missed me. I can tell
you like me and you know very well that I love you. So, let's get going."

I'm like, "Yeah, okay," and I look around, saying, "Oh fuck. I need a big
plastic cup and I'm pretty sure there are some in the kitchen. Damn, I
should have looked there when I got my..." Pony interrupts, "Can I have
that beer bottle for a second?" I say, "I'll get a beer for you if you want
one, but you said you didn't..." and he interrupts again, saying, "No,
that's alright. I don't want my own beer, just a swallow from yours so I
don't notice your beer breath so much." Making a 'face' I go, "I'll try not
to disgust you by breathing," and hand him the bottle. He takes a swallow
and goes, "Ugh! That tastes terrible... but, Dylan, you couldn't disgust me
even if you tried." Nodding, I mutter, "Thanks for that, um, endorsement."

As I'm walking out of the bathroom, I say, "While I'm looking for a plastic
cup how about if you grab a bottle of shampoo from that shelf," and I point
to the shelf in the shower." He hops right up to do that and I go back to
the kitchen trying to psyche myself into enjoying this. I should be having
more fun with all of this. It should be fun cutting his hair and bantering
goofily back and forth and having sex with him... this should be a blast!

In the kitchen, chugging some beer, I say out loud, but I hope not too
loud, "Yeah, and I even get to play the part of the big bad-ass dominant
'top' too." Looking down the hall I listen for a remark from Pony but don't
hear one so I guess he didn't hear me. Good! I wouldn't want him to know
how excited I am about 'topping' him because I'm supposed to be the cool
experienced one.

Looking around the kitchen I'm drinking more beer realizing I should be
trying to remember where those cups are, but instead I'm thinking how Pony
loves getting spanked and fucked hard... haha. Yeah but, I used to have
tons of fun cutting his hair and then all kinds of rough sexy stuff with
Pony. I need to stop worrying about his emotional state and get into this
situation. I mean, he's pretty much over his problems. It's me who needs to
get in the right frame of mind so I can enjoy myself. I need to relax!

Finishing the beer I tell myself... okay, focus! I know last year there
positively were sixteen-ounce heavy duty plastic cups we used for drinking
beer from a quarter keg on the balcony. I remember putting cups and a
plastic tablecloth and plastic plates and whatnot in a box when packing up
last year for summer break. I'm almost positive that box was one of the
things I got from my basement when collecting stuff to bring back here this
year. Yeah, it was the last day Rob had work and I had his pickup. So,
where'd we put the box when we unloaded everything here?

As I'm going through the big closet in the kitchen I'm thinking how
haircutting is always a fun thing to do for me, although I'm totally aware
that there aren't too many guys in the whole world who would want to cut
their friend's hair on a regular basis, or at all probably. Too gay for
straight guys maybe. I know I'm a little weird in that I really like doing
it, and I imagine out of those guys who do like cutting their friends' hair
there are probably none who would want to do a shampoo. Just me out of all
seven billion people on the planet earth. Nah, I'm sure there are a couple
of other weirdos like me somewhere. Not that I give much of a shit if there
aren't.

Actually, considering there are seven billion people on earth I shouldn't
be making definitive statements about anything. Seven billion is such an
enormous number I can't even wrap my head around it. There have to be
people out of seven billion who are into things that are a lot nuttier than
shampooing their friend's hair. Of course, I only do that for a very few
special friends and it's obviously connected in some way with my uninvited
but unavoidable haircut fetish. Sure, I could have fought the fetish,
fought against giving in to it all my life. Or the other choice I had was
to resign myself to make the best of it. Guess which choice I've
embraced. Not that I really think it was a choice...

Ha! I see the cups under the sink. Why the fuck did we put them there? Back
in the bathroom, I see Pony has the towel rolled up and behind his neck and
he's tilted the chair back against the front of the sink with the chair's
front legs about six inches off the floor. He's set himself up perfectly! I
couldn't have done it better myself. His arms are folded across his skinny
albeit well-developed hairless chest with those nice pecs of his. Sexy and
I can't resist flicking his shiny nip ring. He goes, "Go ahead and play
with it, Dylan. Get my tit hard." I mutter, "Get real..."

The overhead light is shining off his nip ring and it's looking cool
hanging from his right nipple. What the fuck, I flick it again and Pony
giggles, saying, "I'm getting a hard-on." Oh brother! Haha. I rub my hand
down from his chest to his belly button thinking it's like paradoxical I
can see his ribs and yet I still claim he has a hot body, but he does have
a hot taut body! He goes, "That feels good."

After one last flick on his nip ring, I ask, "Has that ring ever given you
a problem? Did it ever get infected or anything?" He shakes his head,
"Nope, not the kinds of problems you're referring to. My parents, however,
still haven't gotten over it. They're from a different generation, you
see. They simply don't 'get' shit like nip rings and tattoos." I mutter,
"Ya don't say," and he goes, "Hey, can I see yours?" I lift my t-shirt and
show him. He nods, 'Uh huh, just like mine." I go, "I believe it'd be more
accurate if you'd said yours is just like mine since I had mine first,
which is the reason you got yours." He goes, "Okay, you're right. The thing
is though, unlike you, I'd like to play with your nipple, the one with the
ring, play with it until your nipple gets as hard as a pencil nub." That
makes me laugh again. He has a way of saying bizarre things so fucking
seriously that it just catches me off-guard. He adds, "Better yet, I'd like
to suck that nipple into a hard little pencil nub." I go, "Huh, that'd be
interesting as I don't believe I've ever seen a pencil nub."

He's a very sexual kid and one who hasn't had hardly any sexual relief all
summer. Well, except for what he provided himself by way of his own hand
which can't compare to the feel of someone else's hand. I tend to forget
that most young gay guys are not especially sexually active, not on any
kind of a regular basis anyway. It's something I need to remind myself of
and remember how lucky I am, and have been since I was seventeen.

I mumble, "Oooh, you wanna suck my nipple, huh? I think I'd like that,
Pony," and he goes, "Really? You'd let me do that?" To get this shampoo
started, I turn on the spigots so the water can warm up and then rub my
hand up his forehead pulling his bangs up, saying, "I'm trying to picture
you with a flattop haircut." He goes, "I'll look cool! Um, you'd really let
me suck your nipple? I'd like to do that." I go, "Uh huh, but not right
now. Some other time you can do whatever you'd like with my body." He says,
"Of course you mean suck your dick, right?" I laugh out loud again and he
goes, "No, seriously! I've been thinking about doing that and I mean ever
since I saw you at the airport. If you suggested it I would have sucked
your dick at the baggage pickup area with both of us going round and round
on the carousel."

Trying not to, I snort another laugh anyway, and then mumble, "Feel free to
say whatever's on your mind. Don't be shy..." He goes, "I do say whatever
secrets or emotions I have on my mind! Um, that is, I say it to you but not
to anybody else." I'm like, "The shock value of some things you say makes
me laugh. Most people aren't an open book like you, Daryl. And, um, I think
that's an admirable trait of yours by the way, as well as a very rare one."
He says, "Yes, I know that. I gotta confess though, like I just said,
except when I'm with you I'm a very closed book. Yeah, with
every-fucking-body else in the world including my parents I'm a book closed
really tight. No one but you has a clue what's going on in my mind at any
given moment."

Shrugging, I mumble, "Huh." I'd actually like to tell him that his parents
not having a clue what's on their son's mind is part of the problem. I
don't want to get into any more philosophical shit with him about anything
though because I've already butted into his life too much as it is. And
fuck, let's face it... I don't know what I'm talking about half the time
anyway.

I leave my fingers under the running water until it feels like the right
temperature and then fill a plastic cup and pour the water on Pony's head
trying not to get it on the rest of him. He says, "Is it okay if we don't
talk until you're done, Dylan? I want to close my eyes and luxuriate in
this." Haha, luxuriate! I say, "Mums the word, buddy."

Hell, I'm happy not to talk. That's perfect actually. Under normal
circumstances, I don't feel comfortable with silence between me and another
person. The exceptions being when I'm with a few special people like Chubby
or Rob, or when I'm reading. Another exception, due to factors beyond my
control, meaning my fetish, I prefer no conversation when I'm fucking
around with a young guy's hair... or someone is fucking around with mine. I
can't think of another example though of when I prefer silence over a
conversation. Well, the other thing is, from our conversation, Pony's and
mine, I'm a little worn out by all his problems with his parents, his lack
of a sexual outlet all summer, his idea of sending daily selfies to his
parents, and whatever the fuck else.

Anyway, one cup of water is all it takes to wet his hair pretty good but I
pour on a second cup for the hell of it and then begin working the shampoo
through his hair. There were two shampoo containers on the shower
shelf. One was my Dove Men's Hair Care shampoo and the other was Rob's
Blackwood For Men shampoo. That one comes in a black pump bottle that Rob
got, along with about ten other bathroom items, as one of his birthday
presents from his parents. Very practical gift although the shampoo cost a
ridiculous $18 so maybe it wasn't so practical after all. Anyway, it's the
one Pony chose and I pump out a second helping of $18 shampoo to work into
Pony's hair. I'm using the fingers of both hands to massage his scalp and
ruffle the hairs through the nice smelling lather.

There's nary a peep from Pony as I'm doing this and if I didn't know better
I'd say he fell asleep. I know better though because the fingers on his
right hand are playing with his junk, but other than that he's motionless
and his face is completely relaxed for maybe the first time since he's been
back at college. And what a nice face he has too. It's not 'pretty' like
the faces of a rare couple of guys I've known, but it is cutely-attractive
and very youthful looking.

While continuing to casually rub my finger on his scalp and through his
hair I realize, and it's almost a surprise, that I am enjoying myself
now. It's fun fucking around with his hair and staring at his face and
checking out his taut slim body. I was thinking I should have fun with this
but wasn't because of Pony's problems. Now that he seems much more like
himself though... it's different.

Ha, he may have dozed off for real now. Like I said, I enjoy openly staring
at his face. Hey, that reminds me of a theory I've thought about once or
twice before. It's a theory that was developed during my many years of
closely looking at every young guy I've ever known, or merely spoke to, or
just passed by on the street or boardwalk or at schools I've attended like
forever. During that process it's been impossible not to notice girls too
and after many years of research, I've concluded that males are better
looking than females and this is especially true of teenage males and
females. And, no, it's not just a gay thing! I bet if somehow, after
stripping away beauty aids of all kinds, lined up every male and every
female on the planet and they were rated for good-looks by an impartial
panel of good-looks experts... the males would win.

No offense to females... not at all! We're all born with our 'looks' and
they are what they are. Our faces are at the mercy of genes handed down for
untold millennium to finally become part of our parents and then that final
mix of genes produced us. Well, the genes plus the randomness of
nature. That's what dictates our faces and most everything else we're born
with. Most of us try improving our appearance as much as possible, of
course, but what we start with, what we have to work with, we had nothing
to do with it. Hell, everybody knows that! No offense to anyone.

And I just thought of a theory explaining why males are better looking. It
has to do with Darwin's natural selection thingie. Ya know, when stone age
men, or even earlier in the lineage to modern man, went looking for a stone
age chick they'd be more successful if they were among the less ugly stone
age men. So, the less hideous Neanderthal motherfuckers passed their
less-ugly genes forward in greater number than even uglier Neanderthal
males. It only makes sense the better looking dudes would get more
opportunities to fuck then their buddy who has a nose that looks like a
corn muffin. Okay, that's a poor example since every picture I've seen of
these stone age guys their noses aren't their only problem. For one thing,
what's with those overhanging foreheads? It's common sense that the
slightly less hideous stone age guys would have had even more of an
advantage before language was developed. Before the more hip Neanderthal
dude could lay some hot-shit rap on the bitch, ya know? With only
incomprehensible grunting, it was one hundred percent all about their
less-hideous 'looks'. Well, I suppose the toughest dudes got more than
their share of stone age chicks too, but that screws up my theory so I'm
not going there.

What I'm saying is, looks were a factor way back then as they are now. Guys
are always horny, Neanderthal guys as well as the dude you pass in the
hall, so the less-ugly Neanderthal males would get it on with the
better-looking Neanderthal babes producing less ugly babies. Hmmm, well I
assume as well as getting it on with the bow-wow Neanderthal females
too. You know, when times were tough around the campfire the less ugly guy
would settle for a bow-wow Neanderthal chick but the male's less hideously
ugly genes still got passed on even with the bow-wow broad's. Because of
all that, over unknown tens of thousands of years male babies naturally
came out as better looking than the random Neanderthal female baby
girls. Wait a minute... why the fuck wouldn't the baby girls be better
looking too? Hmmm, that probably has something to do with natural selection
that I haven't thought of yet. And then the gay Neanderthals had their own
set of problems I suppose. Full disclosure, I'm not sure any of these
theories have been proven scientifically yet, so...

Anyhow, Pony's a cute guy who's still youthful-looking too which is a
winning combination in my book. After saying that though, I've noticed he's
finally beginning to look older. Yeah, Pony looks older than he did last
year, and I know... duh! He is a year older, numbnuts! No, what I meant is,
even though he probably hadn't changed much in the five years prior to this
one, now his age has finally begun to creep up on him a bit like it does
for everyone. For some, it sprints up on them and for the lucky other guys,
like Pony, the aging process creeps more slowly onward. So he looks older
than he did last year at this time, but he's still very youthful looking
for his age of twenty-one. And when you consider that some of the
twenty-one-year-old guys on campus look closer to thirty than nineteen,
Pony's the opposite.

Pony looks so contented and I'm sure he'd prefer me doing this shampooing
routine longer, but my fingers are getting tired so I begin pouring cups of
warm water over his hair rinsing out the $18 shampoo... like he'd know the
difference if it cost $6. I'd bet my dick that he picked Rob's shampoo
because the bottle is way cooler-looking than my plastic bottle of Dove for
Men shampoo. In his situation, I'd have picked Rob's too.

Surprisingly Pony doesn't complain about me ending the shampoo and he's not
complaining about me now roughly towel drying his hair either. His blue
eyes open though to look at me and say, "Don't forget the awesome neck and
shoulder massage." I go, "Of course, sir. That's included in the $100 salon
treatment." He goes, "And I'm a big tipper too... so don't fuck it up." I
go, "Of course not, sir." Done with the towel drying, I go, "If you don't
mind me mentioning this, sir, your lap seems to be lifting upward." He
laughs out loud and then says, "That's a boner, my man." I go, "So it is,
sir." Pony rubs his boner and then pushes it to the side.

Even though his boner is hidden in his pants, well they're my sweatpants
actually, I've seen his naked dick, obviously, so I know it's slightly
longer than five inches and it has a very ordinary circumference. As a
matter of fact, it's a rather ordinary penis overall but yet I'll bet it's
Pony's most prized possession.

Using Rob's hairdryer because mine is on its last legs, I finish drying
Pony's hair thinking that his brown hair and blue eyes are not a
combination you see all that often. The poster child for that combo is
Connor. He has dark blue eyes with dark brown hair that contrasts
exotically with his very pale complexion and extraordinarily attractive
facial features. It's a striking combination! Actually, Connor's one of the
pretty boys I mentioned earlier, now that I think about it.

Jeez, and yeah... Connor never texted me this week. Dammit! And I'll bet
anything it's because of that fucking roommate of his; that so-called
boyfriend! Errrrr! It makes my blood boil to think that cretin is treating
Connor badly... that's if he is treating Connor badly, and he better not
be! Yeah, I was supposed to meet Connor after class this week and I've been
waiting for his text telling me when and where. I suppose he needed to ask
permission and, if that's the case, I hate with a passion that he needed to
ask that oaf, Stosh! Connor needing to ask Stosh for permission to meet me
for a fucking cup of coffee... that's out-fucking-rageous! Tomorrow I don't
have a class so it'll need to be next week at the earliest that we can get
together... if he's allowed. Goddamn, that pisses me off!

Pony asks, "What's wrong? What are you doing, Dylan?" I'm like, "Huh?" and
realize I've got the hairdryer running full blast pointed at the floor. I
go, "Oh... um, I was just thinking about something, that's all," and I go
back to drying his hair until it's so dry the hairs are reaching up off his
head to the metal part of the hairdryer. It's the static electricity in his
dry hair causing that. Turning off the dryer, I wet a comb and comb through
his hair calming it down.

When that's under control I do a semi-firm massage on the back of his neck
and his shoulders. And, like I've said two hundred times, I like touching
and being touched so, of course, I like doing this. I'm finally totally
relaxed and fully enjoying myself. That comment of mine about 'touching'
assumes the other touch-ee is a young guy who I want to share touches with;
not just 'anyone'. Pony obviously qualifies as someone I enjoy doing it
with so I continue massaging up the back of his neck and head and then back
down to go across his narrow shoulders until he gets so relaxed he's
sliding forward in the chair like there are no bones in his body... except
the one in his lap.

His dick is apparently as hard as a tent pole as this latest pants-tent
looks quite taut. Pony doesn't even bother to try hiding it with his
hand. After like five minutes I figure that enough massaging even though I
know how much he loves this kind of thing, enough is enough. It's a good
feeling doing something nice for him after his stressful summer. Of course,
I imagine lots of guys are stressed to the max. I don't know them though
and I do know Pony so I'm glad to help him at least.

As a way to transition from all the touching associated with shampooing his
hair to stopping abruptly I lean over and kiss his cheek and then murmur,
"That'll be a hundred dollars, sir." Pony's eyes pop open and then he's
very serious, saying, "That was just as wonderful as I remembered. There's
no way I'm the only person who thinks this is the most awesome thing ever."
I'm like, "Well, thanks, Pony. I imagine though a guy would need to be gay
to appreciate it as fully as you do, and he'd need to be comfortable with
himself. I mean, to allow another guy to do this much touching and whatnot
on his person." Pony sits up, muttering, "Who wouldn't enjoy being massaged
and fussed-over like you've been doing for me?" Shrugging, I go, "Probably
lots of guys. There are many such people I'm afraid, guys who don't like
being touched at all. I'm glad you're not one of them though."

He stands up saying, "Idiots!" and then, "Well, Dylan, I don't have a
hundred dollars, well actually I do but I'm not giving it to you. But, as I
was going to say, if I did give you a hundred dollars, um, would that
include a haircut too?" I go, "For you, yes." Picking his shirt up off the
toilet seat, he goes, "Okay then, and for God's sake take your time with
that too." Rolling my eyes, I mutter, "Yes, sir, as you wish." He chuckles,
mumbling, "I like that 'sir' shit you're doing too! No one ever calls me
that."

We go to the kitchen and I pull a stool away from the bar. Pony sits on it
right away, an eager lad. Ya know, it's kinda cool that he appreciates me
doing all this for him. It's nice being appreciated!

Using the same awesomely sharp scissors I used the other day I slowly cut
only about a half inch of hair off his head all over. Then to drag it out
for him, I do it all over again this time cutting off even less. After like
ten minutes I can't drag this out any longer and, as I intended, his hair
looks almost like it did before I started.

Pony sat there for the entire ten minutes without saying a word. He was
probably concentrating on his latest boner as it slowly pushed up the
sweatpants at his lap. The hair clipping fell around his pant-tent like
leaves dropping around a tree. The hair clippings slid off his bare rounded
shoulders to his lap with Pony apparently as contented and relaxed as, um,
a house cat getting brushed or a... well, he seemed very contented. I'll
leave it at that.

Patting him on the shoulder, I mutter, "That's it, Pony, I can't stretch
this out any longer." His body sort of jerks like he's been awakened
abruptly as he mutters, "Awesome, Dylan." I go, "You have nice hair by the
way. You're lucky." He lets out his breath, saying, "Oh man... that was so
fucking excellent! That's exactly what the past forty minutes have
been... fucking excellent!"

Forty minutes? Looking at my watch I see it's just past five-thirty. We've
been fucking around with this for more like twenty minutes, not
forty. That's a good thing too because Rob won't likely text me until close
to six o'clock. Pony's saying, "Dylan, this has been by far the nicest
thing that's happened to me since I left college last spring. Actually, you
know what? I might give you a hundred dollars for real to show you how
awesome I think this was." I'm brushing hair clippings off his shoulder as
I mutter, "Okay, good. Do you have that hundred bucks on you, by any
chance." He slides off the barstool, saying, "It's in the mail. Keep a
lookout for it," and he chuckles as he brushes his lap where his dick has
retreated back to its more normal flaccid condition.

Pony holds the dustpan as I sweep his smallish amount of cut hairs off the
tile floor onto it and then the hair goes in the trash.  Putting the
dustpan and brush back in the closet, I ask, "Do you wanna stay for
dinner?" He goes, "I'd love to but Donald and I promised each other to eat
dinner together again tonight." I ask, "What time?" and Pony shrugs,
"Anytime between five-thirty and seven. Whenever, but I guess I should text
him."

As he does that I walk down to the bedroom to put the scissors and comb
back in my toiletry kit. That was fun because Pony got so, um, like
normal. That allowed me to stop worrying about him, plus he does have a
nice head of hair to work with and good hair like his is always more fun to
cut. I suppose there were some vibes from my haircut fetish too, but I
didn't notice them very much now that I think back on it. The strength of
my fetish appears to be fading the older I get.

Back in the living room, I see Pony's talking on his phone instead of
texting. He holds the phone to his chest and asks, "You'll give me a ride
back, right?" I nod, "Of course... what a dumb question." He's back talking
to his roommate and when he's done, he goes, "Um, should we do part two
here or in your bedroom?" He means sex of course, and I stupidly look at my
watch again. How long does buddy sex take? Ten minutes should be more than
enough time and it'll probably be at least twenty minutes before Rob texts
he's done at the ballpark.

To be sure we're on the same page here, I'm like, "And by part-two, you
mean something sexual, right?" He actually blushes which is very rare for
him. He mumbles, "Yes and I feel like a turd for pushing you into all this
stuff, Dylan, I really do, but..." and to head off any chance of some kind
of emotional demonstration from Daryl, I go, "No problem, Pony! Jesus, I
want to do it too. It's cool that we're friends and sex buddies too." He
says, "Thank you for saying that and making me feel less like a needy-nerdy
dork." I go, "No, like I said earlier, you're not nerdy!" He grins, saying,
"Hey! You left out the 'needy dork' part in that disclaimer." I go, "Oh,
did I?" and give his shoulders a hug, muttering, "To answer your original
question... let's go in the bedroom because, well... no special reason."

Leaving my arm around his shoulders we walk down the short hall with him
looking at me, saying, "Oh dude, have I ever been a bad boy, really bad!
You know I've been bad, right Dylan? So you shouldn't hold back, I need a
hard spanking." I'm like, "Sorry but I'm not really feeling the spanking
part today, Pony." He goes, "Why not?" I'm like, "Well, ya know,
considering what you went through during the summer and all." He goes, "Oh,
but like my dad said, it's been all my fucking fault." I mutter, "No, it
wasn't all your fault. Not at all." Taking my arm off his shoulders, I
mumble, "So, no spanking although as an alternative I could really go for
you sucking my dick. Hardly anyone does that for me." He frowns, "You gotta
be shitting me! No one wants to suck the prettiest penis I've personally
ever seen? That's inconceivable to me."

In the bedroom, I mumble, "That's probably enough brown-nosing from you for
now, but thank you for all your efforts in that regard." He grins, saying,
"Whew, thank God, I was running out of compliments. So, are you going to
spank me with a belt? That's what I'd use if I were you." I'm like, "You
don't listen, do you? I said, no spanking! I am 'up' for you sucking my
dick, however... so how's that for a compromise?" He drops his sweatpants
and underwear, but only halfway down his thighs and then holds them there
with a hand on either side of the waistbands. Bending over, he looks back
at me and goes, "Please spank my naughty ass until it's bright red. I've
been a bad, bad boy."

Hmmm, what a small, but cute ass. It's not flat like you'd almost expect, I
mean considering how slim he is, and like most of his body, there's nary a
hair on his ass. Of course, I already knew he had a cute ass. Realizing
I've been staring at it, I snap back to reality and say, "I'm wondering if
there are distant relatives in your family tree that have the last name of
'Monday'?" He straightens up, still holding his pants off his ass, asking,
"Monday? You mean Danny Monday?" I nod, "Uh huh, he is who I was thinking
of. I ask because Danny does what you do." He goes, "And what's that?" I
say, "He ignores anything I say that he'd rather not hear." Pony goes, "I
don't do that!"

I snort out a little laugh, and then say, "You know what? I will spank
you. I'm used to the idea now," and Pony goes, "Yeah, I need a spanking to
teach me how to be good, but you'd better tie my hands behind my back
first." Haha, he insisted on that last year too. I say, "I don't have
anything to tie them with," and he reaches down to the side pocket of his
sweatpants and pulls out a handkerchief; my handkerchief actually, and
they're my sweat pant too. I gave him the handkerchief when he cried in the
pickup and let him borrow the sweatpants the other day. Pointing at the
handkerchief, I'm like, "Is that what I think it is?" He nods, "Uh huh, but
I washed it out in the lavatory and dried it with a hairdryer."

I laugh again and then go, "Okay, give it to me." He hands it to me and
then puts his hands behind his back. When he let go of his sweatpants they
bunched around his feet. His jockey shorts, I mean the jockey shorts I lent
him, stayed where they were. The elastic kept them halfway down his
thighs. I shake out the handkerchief and push his hands up off his ass
before tying the handkerchief around his wrists. He could shake out of that
in two seconds if he wanted to. Pony says, "I'm getting another boner."
Haha! Who does he remind me of?

>From age seventeen to maybe twenty, I also liked trying all the mild BDSM
stuff that Pony likes. Haha, Pony will probably grow out of most of it like
I have. Due to his lack of experimenting with it though, lack of
opportunity actually, Pony's still trying it out at an age when I was
getting over most of it. But I had a number of willing dominant 'tops' who
were happy to tie my ass up and stick dildos up there etc. etc. until I had
my fill of most of it. Pony has had only one such person to help with
that... me.

He asks, "Should I just stay bending over like this, or what?" I go, "Suit
yourself," and smack his ass with my hand which makes the expected
ass-spanking sounds, "SMACK!" He goes, "Good one!" and its SMACK! SMACK!"
sounds ringing out in the bedroom making me grin to myself. He yells,
"More, please," and I smack his ass until my hand stings and he's finally
walking away from me, muttering, "Ow ow ow... that's good! I'm good!"

His ass is rosy red with the last smack leaving another white handprint
that's just now fading to rosy red like the rest of his buttocks. When he
turns around I see his five-inch cock is defiantly sticking straight out so
hard it looks like it'll rip the foreskin if it gets any tighter. He has
tears in his eyes but he's smiling brightly as he says, "I almost shot off!
A couple more smacks on my ass would have done it but the stinging got to
be too much." Then he chuckles and mutters, "Omigod, that was perfect! Oh
fuck, that hurt just right, Dylan," and he jogs in place and turns complete
around as he's jogging. I assume he's waiting for the stinging to subside.

I know I was never into getting spanked nearly as much as Pony, but I still
like it occasionally even now. Oh, wait a second. That spanking I got from
Danny the other day. That's an example of too much! It would have been
perfect three years ago but it was over the top for nowadays. Danny didn't
know though. And, then there's my fucked up subconscious mind. It must have
been in play while I spanked Pony because for some reason I felt a slight
stirring in my dick near the end. Thank God I didn't spring a boner! I'd be
wondering about myself if that happened.

Facing me now Pony hops up and down a few more times going, "Oou, oou!" His
ass is still stinging apparently as he mutters, "You did a really good
spanking, Dylan!" I'm just standing here with a bemused expression watching
him, and then I go, "Would you like some more? My hand feels better now."
He laughs and goes, "No, no I'm good, thank you very much. I'll be a good
boy." It's comical the way he hops around ignoring his boner and the
sweatpants around his ankles with the jockey shorts he borrowed from me
still stubbornly clinging to his thighs.

He settles down, saying in a serious manner, "Could you tighten the thing
around my wrists, Dylan? It's coming loose." Instead of tightening the
handkerchief, I take it off, mumbling, "You'll need your hands free to get
my dick in your mouth." He makes a 'face', saying, "No I don't!" and then,
"Well, yeah, I guess it is easier using my hands." I go, "Um, have you had
a lot more experience with this sort of 'starter' BDSM stuff than you've
mentioned?" He goes, "Not really. I told you about my younger years when I
had a couple of fuck buddies. They represent just about my total so-called
experience, and I was a couple of years younger plus we only got together
like two or three times a month that summer... and then we basically didn't
know what the fuck we were doing anyway." I go, "Huh! Well, whatever, Rob
will be texting soon, so..."

He goes, "Oh, okay," and he pulls his jockey underpants all the way down to
his ankles and drops to his knees. His fingers quickly get inside the
waistband of my underpants giving me shivers as he's pulling them and my
sweatpants down under my nuts. I mutter, "Holy shit, wait a sec..." but he
doesn't wait a second. He already has his fingers on my dick as he mumbles,
"Ooh, nice! I still really like the shaved pubes look; it's so clean and
cool!" Squeezing my cock, he looks up and conversationally says, "I had to
stop doing that a months ago because of communal showers in the dorm."
Nodding my head, I mumble, "Completely understandable, but could you wait
a..."  The head of my dick goes right in his mouth and then his other hand
takes hold of my scrotum and then my nuts get a fast tight squeeze and I
go, "Ooooh!" Jesus, maybe I should have kept his hands tied behind him.

I soon forget about that though because Pony's energetic, albeit
inexperienced cock sucking has all my attention. His lower incisors are
sharp as they scrape the underside of my penis. That's not a real pleasant
sensation but he does have good tongue action and his lips suck nicely on
the shaft. It's when he takes more of my pecker in his mouth that I hold my
breath, afraid he'll bite it by accident. I keep my hand on top of his
head, ready to push his head away if necessary.

Huh, I'll give him a grade of B+ for saliva action. He keeps a lot of warm
saliva in play. So much so that some of it is drooling down his chin to
drip onto the tops of my sneakers. Pony makes a lot of slurping sounds too,
which tend to show that he's enjoying himself although maybe it's more his
inexperience. Someone slurping on a cock usually means they're into it, and
I like that enthusiasm although someone slurping coffee or soup,
well... I've got a big problem with that!

Pony gets an overall 'A' for effort though as he's very energetic with his
licking and sucking. And then I hold my breath when his teeth begin
scraping the shaft again. I'm almost expecting drops of blood but, damn, my
dick still gets very hard. So, as inexpertly as he's doing this, he's
getting results and after maybe four minutes he takes my hard cock out and
strokes it, saying, "Feels good, huh?" To be encouraging, I go, "You know
it!"

As he wipes his chin with the back of his left hand, giving my nuts a rest,
I go, "Um, but could you try covering your bottom teeth with your bottom
lip maybe? It's a good way to do it and ya know if...." He frowns and cuts
off what I was saying by putting my hard cock back in his mouth and
ignoring my advice by sliding my cock into his mouth fully on his bottom
teeth. I suck in a long inhale and let it out noisily. But, huh, it's weird
that his sharp teeth are now actually beginning to feel sort of sexy... in
a dominant sort of way. See, it doesn't take my brain long to turn that
negative into Pony being defiantly dominant dragging my boner across his
sharp little teeth like that. Oh yeah, it's a stretch I admit that, but it
works for me.

His left-hand goes back to squeezing my nuts and that feels kinda good now
too; my nuts are either numb or simply used to being squeezed too hard so
now there's a sexiness to that as well. My fingers run through Pony's clean
hair as I look down at him and watch his lips. He has very good lip action
as they sort of stretch out along the shaft and then drag back making me
shuffle my feet a bit as shivering sensations run all around my groin and
my hard cock quivers against his teeth.

I grunt, "Oh, Ummm, Pony," because he just gave a harder squeeze on my
balls and then he does it again as I go, "Ow, ummm," and now I notice early
signs of an orgasm developing. Impossible to describe but you know when it
happens. Sort of an advanced notice with my stomach muscles tightening
involuntarily. It's difficult to resist going all the way to climax once it
starts up and I pull Pony's hair, moaning, "Aaaah, oooh, mmmm, nooo...."
and he takes my dick from his mouth, and this time there's a blob of my
pre-cum on his pink tongue. Looking up at me he swallows in an exaggerated
manner and goes, 'Ewww," and then, grinning, he adds, "Only kidding. It's
just some slippery pre-cum," and before I can say anything my boner goes
back in his mouth as he hiccups or coughs or something. Whatever it was it
caused him to bite my cock... a sharp quick bite. Fuck! Then he's back to
spreading saliva around my hard cock with his tongue and oh fuck I feel
like I'm gonna cum right now.

I'm trying to be blase but my boner is quivering and beginning to
throb. Experienced or not, if someone does enough sucking and licking it
will get a person's dick hard. Taking a deep breath, I exhale as quietly as
I can so I don't seem overly aroused. Ya know, I'm supposed to be the
experienced one here but enough is enough, so I mumble, "Really good,
Pony," and I gently push at his head as I'm adding, "Um, I've got lubricant
in that drawer," pointing at the bedside table. Pony shakes his head
pulling my boner from his mouth for the third time, saying, "Ah, Dylan,
c'mon man. I never get a chance to do this," and back into his warm wet
mouth goes my hard boner sliding all the way in on his bottom teeth.

Omigod! Oh, I gotta admit though, it was kinda cool the way he did
that. His energized lips, plus that awesome pink tongue of his hungrily
licking and sucking on my slippery cock makes me want to climax so badly I
can't do anything except moan, Mmmmm, ooooh...." He extends his lips down
the shaft again and then drags them back while sucking at the same time
creating shivers all over me and then I get my first shoulder
shudder. Ummm, wow!

Pony continues with his elaborate slurping sounds too with spit continuing
to drip steadily off his chin. Holy shit, I don't think I've never met
anyone who likes sucking cock as much as Pony does. Then with a moan, I go,
"Aaaaah!" as a little spurt of cum shoots in his mouth! Pony's small Adam's
apple bob as he swallows it. Fuck! No, that wasn't a full-blown climax, not
even close. It might have been an extra energetic pre-cum shot.

Jeez, he got me to fire off a spurt of cum without even taking my cock in
his throat. Pulling on his hair gets his attention and his pretty eyes go
to the top of their sockets looking up at me. Taking a deep breath, I ask,
"Can you take my cock in your throat?" A little shake of his head and I go,
"Okay then, open your mouth, please. I almost blew my load two seconds
ago." Grinning around my cock, he again shakes his head a little. I have to
chuckle at his brattiness and then I get a fistful of his hair to slowly
push his head away from my boner. Naturally, it slides out on his bottom
teeth as I go, "Ooow!" but my boner is finally out and it pops right up
against my belly in its extremely hard condition... wow, it feels nice now!

Trying not to gasp, I manage to say in a somewhat normal voice, "Awesome,
Pony! That was really good for someone who doesn't get a chance to do it
very often. How many guys did you say you've you sucked off? I mean, you
have a unique style plus you seem proficient at it." He's licking his lips
like he just ate something delicious. With his pink tongue going around his
lips, his chin shiny with spit, he snickers and then says, "I already told
ya. Counting your primo penis, I've sucked a grand total of four dicks in
my entire life. If I was a contortionist it'd be five, but I'm not a
contortionist so it's still four. Hahaha!"

Jeez, with each minute that passes he seems to get more and more back to
his old self. Pony says, "Yeah, but sucking your dick is by far the most
fun. For one thing... no pubic hairs in my mouth. That's a big plus! And
two of the other guys I sucked off happened years ago. You know, with my
younger fuck buddies that I already told you about. They've been out of
circulation for a couple of years now, unfortunately." I don't want to hear
that story again so I don't say anything but I do wonder who the fourth guy
he sucked off is. I don't wonder enough to ask though because we need to
get on with this. Pony goes, "Heh heh, the last summer my fuck buddies and
I were together I was sucking them both off almost every day until
eventually the guys got tired of it. So, yeah, I had some experience back
then. The two weeks before school started up again I had to nag them to let
me blow them," and he laughs a nice laugh; laughing at himself which is
self-deprecating and a trait I admire in guys.

To discourage Pony from grabbing my cock again I have my hand on my
saliva-wet boner that's up against my belly. I wanna say something nice so
I mutter, "I like your style, Pony, even though I may need a Band-Aid."
He's like, "Whaddaya mean?" Chuckling, I rub his head and go, "Just
teasing, Pony. You suck cock good albeit in an unorthodox manner." He nods
his head, muttering, "Yeah, I'm surprised I remembered how but I had a
chance to practice on Chickie last summer." I mumble, "Lucky Chickie," and
Pony nods his head, "Yeah, I mostly like sucking guys off to climax and
then swallowing their spunk... yum!" I make a 'face', and he mutters, "Ya
know like I almost did for you just now. Those other guys though, they'd
go, 'Ewwww," when I'd swallow their cum. They couldn't believe I'd do
that." He's a fascinating kid with all that naive excitement and
enthusiasm. He goes, "Haha, get this: I'd swallow their cum but I thought
kissing was gross!" I nod, "That's a little bit odd alright." He shrugs,
"None of us ever kissed anyway or wanted to. Seriously, only the gay models
on gay videos kissed."

Shaking my head at that misinformation, I'm kind of in one of my trances
and let Pony very casually pushing my hand away from my boner and insert
his fingers under it, his knuckles rubbing against my belly, and then
getting his fist around my boner he pulls it away from my stomach. I stare
incredulously at him with shivers making me shudder as he strokes my boner
a few times apparently not thinking there's anything unusual about any of
this. He holds my hard cock straight out while he's finishing his story,
saying, "None of those three guys has a penis like yours though," and he
leans over to lick the head of mine, a long lick that gets me up on my
toes. Lifting his head to look at me again, he conversationally adds,
"Those early sex buddies, um, one of the boys had a short dick, like maybe
three inches when soft, and the other boy's cock was crooked and about as
long as mine."

I'm still in one of those trances I get at times from just listening to
someone talk so I'm not saying anything. Finally, he realizes that fact and
looks at me quizzically, asking, "Are you waiting for me to suck you off to
orgasm, or what? If so, will you still be able to fuck me? Just asking
'cause I don't know what I'm supposed to do." He asked that as if he were
asking driving direction and it makes me chuckle which breaks my trance, so
I go, "As I've said before, you need to get over your shyness," and then I
look at his fist that's got my boner in it.

He laughs out loud at that and strokes my boner a couple of more times
before I push his hand away, mumbling, "No, don't suck my dick anymore. I
mean, don't do it now. Tomorrow or whenever, yeah, but we need to move
along here. Um, how do you like it best, Pony? Ya know, do you like taking
it up the ass when you're on your back, or doggy style, or what... what's
your preference? I forget if you have one." He goes, "Oh, good
question. Hmmm, how do I like it best? Omigod, I'm too excited, Dylan. You
need to decide... um, any way you wanna do it I guess! Ah, but I would like
looking at you while you're fucking me if you don't mind." I nod, "Okay,
lie on your back sideways on the bed with your ass just over the edge."

He does that and his boner is so hard it's sticking straight up in the
air. Oh man, I've been so concerned about my boner I didn't notice he got
that wicked hard boner from sucking my cock! Who does that remind me of?
Pony's cock is very average, yeah it is but on him, I think it looks
perfect! Just to be sure, I ask, "Did you get that boner just from sucking
my dick?" He nods, 'Well, yeah, of course I did! Doesn't everybody get
boned-up sucking cock?" I shake my head, "No, most guys I know don't. But
to be honest there haven't been many guys who suck me off. Mostly I suck
their dicks."

He mutters, "I don't blame ya. Sucking dicks rocks!" I snicker and say,
"You're really something, buddy. Hey, I'm curious. Let me ask you
something. How come you thought models in gay videos were the only gay guys
who kissed? I mean, why would you think the models would do something they
knew no one else did?"  He shrugs and squirms on the bed, his right hand
around his hard cock and his feet flat on the floor. Lifting his head off
the mattress, he says, "Artie told us it was only models who kissed. He
said they were made to do it by the director, ya know, or they wouldn't get
paid. That's why."

I'm standing between his feet leaning over a bit to push his hand away so I
can take his dick in my hand and stroke it a few times for him and then as
I try not to laugh, I'm like, "And you believed this guy, Artie, huh?" He
nods, "Yeah, he was two years older than my other bud and me, plus we
didn't want to kiss each other anyway. These weren't cute guys." I go,
"That must have been the main thing, you not wanting to kiss because they
weren't attractive. I mean, what Artie said made no sense. Anyway, now you
do like kissing, right?" He goes, "Yeah, as a favor to you it's cool, but
I'm not sure I'd ever do it with anyone else. Um, are you gonna fuck me or
not?" Impatient, eh? He'd get yelled at by Danny... heh heh. I say, "Yeah,
I am. Lift your legs and get your arms around them..."

to be continued...

       Donny Mumford      thinat20@yahoo.com     donnymumford@outlook.com

========================================================

Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published
and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for
next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a
19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And
there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them
out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the
books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.

Donny Mumford

========================================================

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