Date: Fri, 2 Sep 2016 10:10:15 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter 4

DYLAN'S  JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE


Chapter 4


By  Donny Mumford


As  we're getting out of the pickup Robby and I exchange smirks acting a
little bit  cocky because we're both feeling amorous and something good is
likely to come of that. Robby had a bad start to his day waking up with a
wicked hangover but you'd never know it now. The baseball team's first meeting
of the year turned his day around nicely. Just meeting and reconnecting
with his  teammates, talking baseball, and planning for next spring's baseball
season has  him in a bouncy good mood. He oozes confidence and
aggressiveness  playing in a baseball game and I like watching him because his body
language and interaction with teammates is all about leadership and taking
charge. I get goosebumps at times sitting in the stands when he  hits a home run
or makes a great play at shortstop, thinking, 'Holy shit,  that's my
boyfriend!'


As  for me, I've been in an energetic  good mood since getting out of bed
this morning. I also feel good  that my reunion with Ryan this afternoon went
as well as it did. We  miscommunicated a little bit, but overall it was a
good time.  Early last summer we formed this unique relationship that
strengthened  week after week with Ryan totally in-charge of everything. That was a
 couple of months ago though, so I was surprised to find I  retained some
of last summer's submissiveness being with him today.  Apparently our sub/dom
roles are not something that can simply be  turned on or off like a faucet.

Frankly, I thought he handled everything almost  perfectly in Georgia, but
as our junior year progresses any sense I feel  that Ryan's the boss will
surely fade day by day.

Walking  towards the apartment building Robby give me his mischievous grin
so I  grin right back at him and he playfully smacks my ass, saying, "I
know why you're so frisky this afternoon, Dylan," and I go, "I know  why too;
it's because I didn't wake up with a hangover and it's been an  all-around
beautiful New England fall day." Still showing that grin of his, he  smacks
my ass again, saying, "No! They're not the real reasons. The  real reason is
your other boyfriend is back in town and you spent the  entire afternoon
with him doing God only knows what to each other," and  then he gives me a
third playful smack on my ass. Actually that last  one kinda stung, so I go,
"Hey! That hurt! You don't know your own  strength, Rob." He chuckles,
mumbling, "Wait'll you  feel my smacks on your bare ass." I'm like, "Yeah, well let
me  set the record straight: Ryan is not my boyfriend and I didn't spend
all afternoon with him." Robby's feeling a tad aggressive this  afternoon and
that makes my dick move sideways in my shorts.

Inside  our apartment Robby gets his arms around the front of my neck
pulling my back  against his chest, then he kisses the side of my face. His hard
bicep muscle is  right under my chin, bulging a little. Oh yeah, he's my
hunky, macho  boyfriend alright! His other arm is around my stomach holding my
ass against his  crotch as he humps against my buttocks and begins sucking
on the  hickey he gave me a couple of days ago. In his tight grasp a touch of
 claustrophobia tweaks my brain and I'm soon struggling against him as the
hickey's beginning to feel raw. I go, "Stop, Rob! That stings." After two
more licks on the hickey bump, he stops and kisses my cheek again,  then
lets me go, mumbling, "That hickey is just a reminder to your Georgia
boyfriend that I'm your real-deal boyfriend." I'm like, "Get real, Rob!  Hickeys
meant something in fuckin' high school, but we're not seventeen  years old
anymore." Gee, Robby's jealous. How sweet is that?!

He  pulls me back against him again and kisses me, then licks my ear. I
turn around in his arms and put my arms around the back of his neck,  saying,
"I'm glad you're jealous, but there's no need to be, and just so ya  know, I
like the way you gave me a spanking for no reason." He grins,  swatting my
ass again, muttering, "There are probably reasons; I just don't know  what
they are." I kiss his mouth, then say, "Nope, there are no reasons." He
murmurs, "I believe you," and we get into a sexy hot sloppy make-out that lasts
two or three minutes before he grabs the bottom of my shirt, my arms go up,
and  Robby pulls my shirt up and over my head knocking my hat off. His
fingers  are at my shorts now, unbuttoning them, and then down they come along
with  my underpants...and just like that I'm naked.

He  grabs my firm cock, asking, "Oh! You got this semi-boner from us making
out,  huh?" I nod, "Always, with you, Rob." He grins, murmuring, "I  kinda
like that," and, still holding my cock, he starts kissing and licking  my
face again. The spontaneousness of  all this, plus the way Robby's being kind
of rough, has me so hot and  aroused. My face is flush and my breathing's
ragged. Our noses bump as we move  our heads, then our mouths connect and our
teeth scrape together as we  take turns sucking on each other's lips and
tongue. I love seeing  flashes of Robby's pink tongue as he licks across my
lips, then pulls me over to  the end of the sofa using my boner as a leash.

Gasping, he says, "Bend over  and hold onto the arm on the sofa." I take a deep
breath and do what I'm  told as Robby's pulling his pants and underwear
down to his knees.

Looking  back I see his fat cock is boned-up so tightly it's sticking
straight  out of his pubic patch. He gives my bare ass three hard slaps; the
sound of  each one ringing out, "SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!" My back arches  and my
right hand goes back to ward off another smack but Robby pushes it away  and
rams his entire four-plus inches of fat boner up my ass, then leans  tightly
against my buttocks. Pain spikes in my head as I gasp, "Aaaah,  aaah," then
hold my breath while millions of nerve-endings swarm around my  rectum
easing the pain. Relief comes quickly and makes way for  the pleasure that
follows. Ooooh, that's so nice! My body relaxes as I  moan, "Ooooh, oooh, mmm,
Robby," and, reaching back with my hand, this time  to grab his right butt
cheek and try pulling him against my ass tighter. He  humps against my buttocks
a few more times, murmuring, "Feel good,  babe?" I nod my head and grovel in
the awesome sensation of Robby's hard cock  totally filling me up back
there, "Mmmm..."

Robby  humps against my buttocks a few more times, then he leans over my
back  getting a hand on my forehead pulling my head back, stretching my neck.

He  kisses the side of my mouth, then licks my ear again and sticks his
tongue  in filling my ear with saliva. Sounds have a hollow quality to them
until I work  my jaw clearing a pathway through the spit to my eardrum. His hand
slides  up my forehead to get a fistful of my bangs pulling my hair to keep
my head  back. Oh man, I'm feeling deliciously dominated and loving every
second of it. Robby begins thrusting his hips now, fucking my ass  hard.

We're both grunting as male fucking sounds echo throughout the apartment,
"Slap, slap, slap, slap." My fingers grip the arm of the sofa to keep from
falling forward at Robby's hard, fast thrusting. Oh how awesome it feels.

Sensations from all parts of my rectum  sizzle in a flood of sexual pleasure as
my boner throbs leaking precum  bubbles that drop to the carpet below. This
is a special  submissive trance I'm in; special because it came on me
compliments of my  dominate boyfriend. Sooo friggin' sexy and hot!

My  sexual arousal is always high when having any kind of sex with Robby,
but his recent surge of rougher more dominant-like "topping" gets so intense
I  dreamily revel in it, wishing we could do this forever. There's a
drawback  to Robby's dominant rough fucking though, and it's that we have  quick
climaxes. They come on us too fast, although they're incredibly  exciting and
give me such a rush of pleasure it's hard to imagine anything  better.

Robby lets go of my hair and slaps my ass, "Smack, smack,"  then humps against
me so hard I lose my grip on the sofa's arm and my hands  go down on the cush
ion below, my stomach now on the arm of the sofa. His  crotch humps against
my ass, "Slap, slap, slap," for  another thirty seconds before I squeal
humping my hips, the head of my  boner poking the side of the sofa as cum gushes
out, splatters off the side with  spray coming back hitting my shaved
groin, then another streak of cum flies from  my iron boner with brilliant lights
going off in my mind and I  hit a peak of pleasure, gasping as it rapidly
begins its retreat.  Every nerve ending in my body sizzles like little
electric shocks for a  second; incredible sensations with my ass and groin area
sparkling and dancing  for a last little bit before doing their complete fade
to  oblivion leaving me with a wonderful contended feeling, as I weakly
moan, "Ummmm," then sigh.

At  some point during my intense climax Robby had his orgasm and he's
moaning  quietly now lying on my back as his spunk drools out around his cock
and down the inside of my legs. We lie like this for a short while, then he
takes a deep breath, lifts off me and pulls his cock out of my ass giving  my
buttocks one last slap, "SMACK!" as he says, "Oooh, baby, that was sooo
fucking gooood!" I lift off the arm of the sofa leaning back against him,
murmuring, "You do that dominant stuff awesomely!" He gets me walking through
the living room to our bedroom, his arm around the back of my waist, our
sides  rubbing together as we walk. Looking over at him I'm thinking how
spectacular it is that we have a whole year of this in front of us, and how
different it'll be with just Robby and me sharing the apartment. I'll miss
seeing Chubby every morning, but Robby's right; this is going to be our best
year ever...

In  the bathroom, Robby say, "I'm getting the knack of that rough sex,  huh
babe?" Most guys who 'Top' expect  compliments from their bottom,
especially dominant tops. So, I  say enthusiastically, "I'll say, Rob! I get so
fucking hot when you're in your  dominant mood." He says, "Oh, fuck that. I don't
think of it as being  dominant, although ya know, I guess I can see the
attraction to  it, especially the part where I'm smacking your ass... heh heh.

You being my  bad boy and all." I go, "Uh huh," and he adds, "But the problem
is I get so  aroused that, for one thing, I forgot to make you suck my cock,
and another  drawback is I climax too fast. Two problems, but it was still
hot!" I'm  like, "Ha, you don't need to make me suck your cock, I love
sucking  it!  And as far as quick climaxes go, they're the hottest and most
intense  kind. When we do our lover's sex everything goes slower for a
deliciously  longer time, but rough sex is BANG WOW!"

We're  in the bathroom as he says, "Anyway, it's your job to remind me if I
forget  to have you suck my cock. I'm really into that deep throating
stuff!" We  both chuckle a little, then he kisses me on the mouth,  saying,
"Seriously though, sex aside, I love you so much, Dylan." I  hug him, murmuring,
"Me too, Rob." Instead of merely cleaning up we decide  to take a long
shower together washing each other's body. He goes,  "Look how long your hair is,
Dylan," and he makes the front hairs stand up with  the help of gobs of
shampoo. He says, "Your hair is almost two inches long  in front." I go,
"Whoop-dee-doo," and he goes, "Dammit  though, I should have given you  the
haircut before we showered." I let that comment hang in the air because  I'd
rather Robby not try doing anything with scissors or clippers. I don't want  his
inevitable 'Oops' mistake to result in a short haircut to cover up  the
'Oops'.

We  finish our long shower with a doggy style fuck; water still pouring
down on  us like our last shower together. After sucking his cock into a hard
fat spike I  drop to my hands and knees with Robby behind me, his legs bent,
his  slippery hands holding onto my hips as he humps his boner back and
forth in my  ass hard and fast. It's a super quick doggy-fucking for the pure
sexual pleasure of it. Our climaxes are small, but feel really good. After
some hugging and kissing we finally get out and dry ourselves with Robby
saying,  "Awesome fun sex this afternoon, huh, Dylan?" I nod my head
stupidly-fast,  making him chuckle. Dried off and walking into the bedroom, Robby
mumbles, "I  guess you should call your boyfriend and tell him I'm okay with him
coming for  dinner." I yell, "Stop calling him my boyfriend!" He ignores
that,  adding, "And I'll call my freshman, Golden, about your dinner  party
tonight." I go, "It's not a dinner party, Rob! Don't tell him that.  It's just
a simple dinner on the grille, like chicken maybe." As I'm  picking up my
cellphone, I ask, "What's Golden's first name?" Robby  gets his iPhone from
the pocket of his dirty jeans, mumbling, "That is his first  name. You know,
like Golden Tate, the Detroit Lions football player.  This kid's last name
is, Summers." I go, "Really? Jezzsus! Golden Summers, huh?"  Robby shrugs,
"That's his name, what can I tell ya?" Shrugging, I call Ryan  but get his
voice mail, so I leave a message, 'Call me. And don't eat  anything! Dylan'

Robby's  finished his call to Golden Summers, telling me, "Okay, I gotta
pick the  kid up in forty-five minutes. He says he needs time to get ready
even although I  told him its super  casual and he could wear pajamas for all
we care." I nod, "Okay, I'll take the  pickup and head over to Stop & Shop.

Ya wanna come with me?" He saunters  over to me and pinches my cheek, "You
bet I wanna come with you, cutie." I  lean into him, saying, "You're getting
more and more irresistible, mister head  of the household." He messes my
hair, "Oh really? Are you saying I'm taking  good care of you so far?" Again I
nod my head too fast, like a dork,  "You're taking care of me better than
ever, Rob. Keep it up!" Grabbing his keys,  he says, "I'm enjoying myself
immensely, so I believe I will keep it up." We  walk out the door as I go, "Was
that an intentional double entendre, or an  accidental one?" Robby goes,
"Ooh, no, not intentional, no. I'm not as  clever as you with words, but I meant
that double meaning too." I  mutter, "Good, you'll need to keep 'it' up."

Robby  drives us to Stop & Shop, which is a mere mile up route 114. Inside
he  pushes one of the little shopping carts as I throw food stuff in it
keeping the meal simple: romaine lettuce, a long English cucumber, a  couple of
native grown tomatoes, and a red onion for the salad. Two T-bone  steaks;
each over a pound and a half and a large bag of frozen  French fries;  the
fast food kind. Lastly a box of frozen onion rings. For dessert I put a  whole
frozen Edward's brand Key Lime pie in the cart. It'll be  defrosted by the
time we're ready for dessert. At self-service checkout the  total cost comes
to, $51.58, which we split. I could have cut that almost  in half by
serving chicken instead of steak, but it's our first dinner in the  apartment so I
went with the steak. Maybe I'm trying to impress Golden  Summers... ha ha.

He's gotta have a nickname, right? On the way back to the  apartment, Robby
says, "I'm still gonna do your haircut." I roll my eyes,  but don't comment,
so he looks over at me, sternly saying, "Right, Dylan?"  Gee, I like the way
he said that with a little authority behind it, so I go, "If  you say so,
boss." He goes, "It's not a matter of being the boss, Dylan. You're  starting
to look like that unkempt, Harry Black, and I want to be proud of  my
boyfriend's appearance." Oh my gawd, Harry Black? That  hurts!

We  say no more about it until back at the apartment putting the groceries
away, Robby says, "Would you mind getting your haircutting things out now."

 I think about protesting, but instead head for the bedroom where the
barbering toiletry kit currently lays in my bottom desk drawer. It's the home
barbering kit I bought at a pharmacy in Marietta. Ryan has my professional
clippers and scissors. On my way back from the bedroom I see Robby  glancing
at the kitchen's digital clock, then angrily saying, "Dammit, I've  gotta
pick up Golden now. I'll have to do your haircut when I get back." I  go, "No,
Rob! Not with that kid here. Pick him up later, please.  Jesus, I'll look
like a geek getting a home haircut with him  watching." Robby says, "It's
impossible for you to look like a geek, babe. While  I'm doing your haircut
I'll send Golden to the balcony with a beer or  something. Do what I said and
lay out the barber stuff. I gotta run now." He's  getting his keys off the
kitchen bar, telling me, "One of the important points  of emphasis for a
freshman is to be on time, so I gotta set the example. I  said forty-five
minutes, but I'm picking him up in forty minutes." I roll my  eyes, reciting what
Robby says the coaches always tell the players, 'If  you're here on time,
you're late!'  What bull crap... how can you be on  time and be late?

When  Robby leaves I drop the toiletry kit on the coffee table and yell,
"Balls!" Then, mocking myself, I say out loud in a sing-song voice, "Well,
he is the head of the household... like you fucking insisted he be,  ya
dope!" Fuck it, why do I care what someone named 'Golden'  thinks? And a freshman
no less! For something to do I start pulling  the salad fixing back out of
the refrigerator to make tonight's salad. I'm  almost done with that when my
cellphone rings. It's Ryan and I talk him  into coming for dinner tonight,
convincing him Robby's totally cool with  it. Ryan tells me his roommate,
Steve Church, texted that he  won't be arriving until tomorrow afternoon, so
after he showers Ryan  will drive over in his Mini. Okay then, that's
settled. Then Chubby  calls asking what time's dinner. He and John Beverly  are
just now dropping the girls off and then they'll need to  take showers too. I
tell him don't rush, "When you gets here, bro, we'll  put the steaks on."

Yes,  that's the plan: I'll get Chubby to do the grilling and  then slice
the steaks on the bias. Thinking about that I start  worrying that I didn't
buy enough steak. They'll be six guys for  dinner: Robby and Golden, Ryan and
me, Chubby and John Beverly, so three  pounds of steak means a half pound
each. Jeezus, I should have bought a third  steak to be on the safe side.

Okay, what the fuck, I won't take much  steak myself. That's settled, so I get
a pot with a lid for  the French fries,  then pour a half inch of vegetable
oil in the bottom, and that's  all the prep work there is. Yeah, this is a
low maintenance meal.

For  the hell of it I check myself out in the bathroom mirror, then brush
my teeth again. I'm able to comb my hair now with a partial part on the left
 side of my head, and the hairs in front combed over to the side. There's
something wrong with the way it looks though. Something to do with all  the
hairs being the same length, but fuck it though, I don't feel like  messing
around with it now. My hair's growing out and it's already a  damn good
start, and if a miracle happens and Robby doesn't  fuck it up too badly my hair
will start looking more like a normal head of  hair in a couple more weeks.

That's a big IF of course,  but I'll try talking him through it. And, it'll
serve as closure as far as  Ryan having any thoughts about giving me a
haircut, although he only mentioned  it once, and in a mocking manner. Still in
the bathroom, I'm looking  closely for beard growth when I hear Robby and his
protégée, Golden  Summers, coming in the front door talking about... what
else,  baseball.

Robby  calls out, "Dylan, where are you? I want you to meet someone." As
I'm walking  out of the bathroom I hear the freshman say, "You have a nice
place here, Rob.  Just the one roommate?" Robby says, "Yeah, just me and
Dylan,"  and as I walk in, he says, "And here he comes now. Dylan Newman, meet
Golden Summers." We do half a handshake interlocking just our curled finger
while patting each other on the shoulder, asking, "Hey, how ya doing? Nice
to meet you." Robby tells me, "Golden's an infielder, um, second base to  be
specific, although he can play third too." I nod, saying, "Huh, that's  good
I guess. Where ya from, Golden?" He looks me in the eyes and  seriously
says, like he's proud of it, "I'm from Crown  Point, Indiana. Have you ever
heard of it?" I shake my head, "No,  can't say that I have." He goes, "Its home
 of the infamous Lake County Jail from which John Dillinger escaped  using
a wooden gun in 1934." I'm raising my eyebrows and nodding my head, kinda
at a loss as to how to respond to that bizarre factoid.

Robby  says, "Guess what, Dylan? You're in luck. Golden has five brothers
who he's been  giving haircuts for years. As a favor to me he says he'll do
the  home haircut for you." I blush a little, mumbling, "Huh, so you told
Golden about me needing a haircut?" He shrugs,  "Well yeah, um, it came up
while we're driving over here." Golden says,  "Where should I do it, Rob?"

Robby asks me, "Where do you think would be a good  place to do your haircut,
Dylan?"  I'm like, "I don't know, but more  importantly I don't wanna do it
now. Golden will be around tomorrow or  the day after, but right now I'm
getting dinner ready." Ignoring me, Golden  asks Rob, "Where are the clippers you
said he has," and Robby points to the  toiletry kit on the coffee table,
saying, "Everything's in there," then he  asks Golden, "How about out on the
balcony for his haircut?" Golden shrugs, "Is  there an electric outlet?" and
they go out to check on that with Robby grabbing  the toiletry kit and
taking it with him.

Golden  is nice looking in a macho, handsome way except he has what I call
an  ass-chin. There's an indentation, like an ass crack, in the middle of
his  chin... if you know what I mean. He also looks older than say Robby, me,
or  Chubby. And he's only a freshman too... so he's what, eighteen  or
nineteen years old? I gotta wonder how old he'll look when he's our  age.

Whatever, he has long curly light-brown hair that covers his ears to his  earlobes,
and his hair is even longer in back. I'm not a fan of long  hair on guys but
it looks kinda cool on this kid. He's not  wearing an earring in  either
ear, he has bright brown eyes and he shaves what appears to be a fully
realized beard, but the main thing I noticed about him is there's  nothing that
hints at him being gay. In that regard he joins the ranks  of like ninety
percent of all males... supposedly. Height-wise he comes  almost up to Robby's
eyes so that would make Golden about five feet, eight  inches tall, or at least
two inches shorter than Robby and me and an  inch taller than Chubby. The
kid's got broad shoulders and he's  kinda stocky, but not in a bad way. I'd
say he's probably popular with  the girls, looking like an athlete and moving
smoothly like one too. I  haven't noticed any 'attitude' coming from him,
and now that I think about it,  he was kinda sweetly naive telling me proudly
about his corn-pone home  town's famous jail. Of course, there's a few
famous spots in Boston too. Then  there's his name; he's gotta have a nickname.

Robby  sticks his head in from the balcony, saying, "Dylan, good news;
there's an  outdoor electric socket for the balcony. Um, Golden says to bring
out one of the stools from the kitchen bar. You can sit on that during  your
haircut." I puff out my cheeks; then, while exhaling, mutter, "Balls,"  and
Robby says, "Just get the damn stool, will ya? Golden's doing you a  favor."

Begrudgingly I pick up the stool and carry it out, telling  Golden, "Just
so you know, dude, I do not want a  haircut per se. I just want a trim around
the ears, and that's all!"  He nods, "Yeah, Rob mentioned that, but I know
what the fuck I'm doing,  okay?" I shrug, and he adds, "And get a towel or
something to put across your  shoulders." He says everything in that
matter-of-fact manner. Not being rude  or offensive, but more like an offhanded, no
nonsense... just do it!  It's that sort of thing. I say, "I don't need a
towel; I'll take my shirt  off." As I'm doing that, I say emphatically, "And,
Golden, I don't  care if you think you know what you're doing or not, the fact
remains  that I still just want a trim around my ears!" He shrugs  and waves
his index finger at the stool, like, 'Yeah, I got it. Sit the  fuck down.'

lt was that kind of a finger wave.

Handing  my shirt to Robby, I sit on the stool, then notice four guys on a
balcony two  unit over drinking beers and looking at us. They're age
appropriate for  Merrimack students. Two of the guys begin chanting, "Buzz cut,
buzz cut,  buzz cut," making Golden laugh much harder than that unfunny and
un-clever chant  deserves. Golden yells back, "He only wants a trim," and they
yell back, "You  got the clippers, dude. You da man!" I'm looking at Robby,
gesturing with my  hands, like, 'Really?' Robby waves at the guys, yelling,
"Shut the fuck  up. This is a delicate operation." They laugh again and go
back to  doing whatever it was they were doing before Golden picked up the
clippers.

It's  like he's examining the  clippers, then he puts it down and picks up
the scissors and comb,  saying, "Jesus, this is all cheap home-haircut shit
you can buy in a drugstore."  I nod, "Yeah, my professional stuff is lent
out to someone," and he  asks, "Why didn't you lend him this shit and keep the
professional  equipment for yourself?" I look at Robby again with a, 'Can
you believe  this shit?'' expression on my face. Robby says to Golden, "Look,
this is  what we have to work with. If you don't want to use these things,
I'll do  it myself. We don't need a lot of negative shit from a freshman,
alright?"  Golden shrugs, "Jeez, I'm just saying. Yeah, I guess I can work
with this  drugstore barber equipment. These scissors actually look  pretty
sharp," and he's opens and closes them a few times, muttering,  "Let's see," as
he combs down my bangs and cuts, "Scrunch, scrunch,  scrunch," along my
forehead, cutting off a half inch of hair. I'm looking  at Robby again with a,
'what the fuck...' expression. He has a pained  expression on his face as
Golden mumbles, "Whoever gave you your last  haircut should be strung up by his
balls!" Robby yells, "He just wants the hair  trimmed off his ears and in
back! Nobody said anything about cutting his  hair in front or on the top or
anywhere else. Jesus!!"  Golden goes,  "Okay, okay! Sorry, Rob... chill,
dude!."

I'm  rolling my eyes looking down at my lap where three weeks growth  of my
bangs stares back at me... mother fucker! Golden puts a hand on my head
pushing it to the side a little, asking, "Do you want me to do this or not,
Rob?" Robby waves his hand, "Do it, but with a lot less commentary." Golden
mumbles, "Okay already." The hand on my head is big; a bigger hand than I'd
expect for a guy his size. He's pushing my head over the way Ryan does it,
then the scissor make the subtle sound, "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch,"  cutting
through the hairs that have grown over my ear. Then, "Scrunch,  scrunch,
scrunch," cutting down the hairline behind my ear. Not fast,  but Golden's
confidently using the scissors giving me hope for a decent  result... maybe.

Well, to be honest about it, I can tell from the way  he's using the scissors
he knows what he's doing. Walking around to my  other side, Golden pushes my
head the other way with Robby asking,  "Shouldn't you use those trimmer
clippers thingie too?" Golden says, "Of course,  but I'm getting the bulk of
the hair off his ears first with the scissors.  Isn't this the way you'd do
it?" Robby goes, "Oh yeah, probably. Um, I just  wondered about the trimmer,
um, clippers..."

It's  the same, "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch," sound of the scissor cutting
through  a bunch of dry clean hair over the top of my other ear. Now I'm
getting seriously encouraged this will turn out okay; that is, until Golden
continues, "Scrunch, scrunching," along the back of my head. I can tell he's
cutting too far up from my hairline, squaring it off in back. I'm pissed
now,  but there's nothing to be done about it. It'll look just like that  guy's
haircut I saw earlier today walking out of that barbershop on  Main Street.

 It's the SuperCuts, cookie-cutter-haircut everyone seems to get nowadays.

I  let out a noisy exhale and Golden stops cutting halfway across the back
of my head, asking, "What the fuck is wrong now?" and I go, "I  didn't want
the back squared off like that." He goes, "Oh, no worries, I'm  going to
round it off in back," and I yell, "NO!" and in a calmer voice,  "That's even a
worse." He goes, "I don't know what the fuck you're talking  about. I've
never seen anyone make such a fuss about a haircut. Especially  considering
the last shitty haircut you got." Apparently Golden is unable  to keep his
opinions to himself. Plus, my concern doesn't appear to bother him  all that
much because, undaunted, he finished the last couple scrunches, saying  in a
bored, or maybe irritated manner, "Anyway, this is the way it's supposed to
be done, in case you're unaware of that. And, Jesus, you two are really
something," meaning dumb Robby and I. And this coming from a fucking hick
farmer freshman from Indiana no less!

I'm  rubbing my nose and biting my tongue. What's the sense arguing about
it now that  he's already done it his way? The  main thing is, except for the
bangs, he's left untouched the hairs all  over most of my head so they can
continue growing out and  eventually be completely comb-able. Golden uses
the  trimmer clippers to do a good outline around my ears, and behind them.

Okay, he did that good. Then he uses the trimming clippers on  the back of my
neck to finish the home haircut  a-farmer-gets-from-his-wife look.

Obviously just squaring it off in back  requires less skill and is faster and easier
than tapering  it, which I suppose is why most barbers adopted that
'look'. Contradicting what I'm thinking about this type  haircut, Robby says,
"Golden, that's a very professional looking  haircut." Golden mumbles, "I'd
certainly hope so, I've only done about  three hundred haircuts like this for my
brothers and friends over  the years, although I'm not done with  Dylan's
haircut yet."

That's  what he thinks. I'm brushing hairs off my shoulder standing  up.

Golden puts his hand on top of my head pushing me back down on the  stool,
saying, "Stay still, Dylan, I'm not done yet," and before I can  object he
combs up my bangs cutting more off as he's moving the comb  backwards creating a
shower of hair clipping drifting down my  chest and stomach to land in my
lap. I'm speechless as he does it again,  explaining to Robby, "His bangs are
too blunt just cutting across his  forehead with every hair the same
length." Then he combs down my  shorter bangs, combs them up again and cuts off
more hair leaving  me sputtering, "What the...?" After this last cut, he combs
the  hair down on my forehead again, and surprisingly it's still only a  half
inch shorter. I understand now; he cut the hairs  from further back,
tapering the bangs in front so they now easily  comb to the side. I knew something
was wrong when I was checking my hair  out just before they got here.

Golden says to Robby, "See?" and Robby  goes, "Yeah, nice. You're really good at
this, Golden. I'm fucking impressed,  dude," and they bump fists with Golden
mumbling, "And you two are hard to  please, so thanks, Rob."

I  should be royally pissed off, except the thing is, Golden's right about
it  being a much better look this way. I can't believe I didn't think of
that  myself. Guys like Robby don't get the concept of haircutting; but, like
me, Golden  definitely does gets it. Without asking what I think about
things,  Golden goes ahead and does the same tapering above my ears and  all
around the back of my head. Many short hair clipping fall on  my shoulders or
down my back. I don't protest because now I have  confidence he's good at
this, and my hair will grow out correctly instead of  sprouting out at the same
length all over my figgin' head.  He's done  the sides and back in about
three minutes, then he combs it before dropping  the scissor in the toiletry
kit, saying, "That's pretty much perfect.  What do you think, Rob?" Robby
goes, "Holy shit, that's really good, Golden! No  shit, that looks like a Dylan
haircut, and he's almost as good as you." I look  at Robby, and he goes,
"Um, I mean you're both awesome barbers." Then the  turncoat says, "Um, would
you mind, Dylan, if I ask Golden  to give me a trim too. You know, since
we've got everything out and  all. That's if you would, Golden." I stand up,
saying, "Thanks, nice job,"  to Golden, and then, "Of course I don't mind,
Rob," although I mind very much.  Robby takes his shirt off and says, "Just like
Dylan's." I'm going inside as  Golden's telling Robby, "I'd need to cut a
lot off the top, Rob, for it to be  like his."

In  the bathroom I check out Golden's barbering and I'll be dammed if it
doesn't  look much better than I ever hoped it would, especially after the
way he started. Yep, by tapering just a little it makes the other  hairs look
longer and everything goes together so much better now.  Getting a hand held
mirror I check out the back of my head from  the reflection off the
bathroom mirror and it looks really  professional and pretty much the way I'd want
it. And I gotta admit  the tapering in back makes the squared-off hairs look
okay too. I feel  goofily happy about this fucking haircut. Golden is good,
and now I've got  a barber I can have confidence in. Plus, I really liked
the way  he just went ahead doing it the way he knew would look best in spite
 of my instructions to the contrary. Damn, this is a hugely pleasant
surprise.  The not so good surprise though is Robby wanting Golden to give him a
haircut.  It's the first haircut he's gotten from someone other than me in
almost  three years. Yeah, I'm fucking jealous about that, and disappointed
too  that Robby would ask Golden to do it. Well, maybe it's part  of Robby's
mentoring process. Doing whatever helps develop a bond with  Golden.

The  doorbell rings, and opening the door I see sexy looking Ryan, who
says,  "You sure Rob doesn't mind that I'm here?" I go, "I'm positive! Plus,
this  is my place as much as his." He nods, mumbling, "Of course it is," and I
say,  "Anyway, what's with you and Rob? Last night you were thick as
thieves." He  shrugs, "Nah, we were mostly trying to out-brag each other last
night. It was  one phony conversation after another all night. I got the feeling
from  subtle things he dropped sarcastically into  the conversation that
he's still enormously pissed-off about  the time you spent with me in Georgia,
and somehow he blames me for  it."  Not sure what to say to that, so I ask,
"What do you think  of my haircut?" Ryan comes in and closes the door, then
walks around me  examining my hair, and says, "It looks really good, Dylan.

Damn, I couldn't do that haircut. I've only got the one haircut in  my
repertoire. The specialty haircut just for you." I go, "Me and the other  two
Marietta boys. Ya know, I was thinking a little while ago  that there just
might be a time in the future that I'll ask you  to do that haircut for me
again." He grins, "There's no 'might' about it, Dylan.  I know you'll ask me to
do it. Right now you probably don't think you  will, but you'll need that
fetish rush sooner or later." I go, "Dream  on if you must." Walking in the
kitchen, he asks, "Where'd you go for the  haircut? SuperCuts?" Shaking my
head, I mutter, "No, that kid out on the balcony  just finished giving me this
haircut."

I'm  getting cans of beer from the refrigerator as Ryan's straining his
neck trying  to see what's happening on the balcony. Passing him a beer, I say,
"The new kid  is giving Rob a haircut now, but don't you get any ideas
'cause I'm doing your  haircut, and soon. You look like some goof-off from the
eighties." Ryan goes,  "Hey! I like this look, and um, I'm sorry that your
boyfriend is letting  someone else cut his hair. You must be pissed about
that." I shrug, "Not in the  least," racking up another little white lie. Saving
face, ya know? Ryan goes, "I  thought I was the only one besides you who
ever cut Rob's hair." I'm like, "When  did you cut his hair?" He shrugs,
"Freshman year, but it didn't work out  well at all. Remember when we had the
threesome thingie with Rob as our  leader?" I shrug, "Oh yeah, how could I
forget that? Anyway, no one else  has cut his hair until now." I'm working hard
at pretending it's no  big deal Robby's getting a haircut from Golden, but
it definitely hurts. Ryan  catches a glimpse of Golden as he's picking up
the trimming clippers,  and goes, "Who the fuck is that guy anyway?" I say,
"He's a  freshman scholarship baseball player. Rob was voted a co-captain by
his teammates, then the infielders' coach assigned  a scholarship freshman
to each of the co-captains. This one's name is,  Golden Summers." Ryan
laughs, and I go, "No, I'm serious, that's  actually his name."

We  walk out on the balcony as Golden's finishing Robby's haircut. It looks
exactly  like mine except he did not make it as short on top, which would
have been  stupid. For my last haircut from Ryan he used clippers on the
crown of my  head, the prick. It gave me an amazing haircut-fetish rush though,
but then  afterwards I hated it being cut so short. Thinking about that I
realize, Hey, I got zero arousal from my haircut fetish while Golden  was
cutting my hair! Huh, that is puzzling. Robby's standing,  brushing hair
clippings off his lap. He glances up at me and actually blushes  and looks guilty.

I'm trying hard to keep a neutral expression on my face.  Golden meanwhile
is meticulously cleaning the clippers using the  little brush provided in
the kit for that purpose; the one I've never used.  I tap him on the shoulder
and introduce him to Ryan noticing that  Golden has a cute smile. It's the
first smile from him I've seen. There's  a little space between his front
teeth and I've always thought that a  cutely cool-look for a guy. Ryan and
Golden do a fist bump and a quick  'nice to know you' routine, then Robby walks
next to me  while putting his shirt on, asking, "Can I see you inside for a
second, Dylan?"

Leaving  Ryan with Golden to make small talk, I step inside with Robby and
follow  him to the kitchen, where the guys on the balcony can't see us.

Robby puts a  hand on each of my shoulders, saying seriously, "I shouldn't have
asked Golden for a haircut, babe. It was a poor spur-of-the-moment decision
on  my part and I'm sorry. It's just that I got caught up in the moment
seeing  you seemingly so pleased with the haircut he gave you, and I  was
thinking how it might further Golden's sense of acceptance if I  asked for a
haircut too. You know, do some bonding with him. I think he  looked pleased, a
then too late I saw how hurt you were. I felt sick  to my stomach for hurting
your feelings. You're a much better barber than he  is." I go, "No, I'm
not. He's probably better, and I guess I was kinda  hurt, but that's just me
being a baby. It's okay,  Rob, really! I'm totally over it."

He  nods his head looking me in the eyes to see if he believes me I guess.

Then  he hugs me, asking, "Really? It's okay then?" I go, "Yes! What's one
haircut?" He murmurs, "You're wonderful, Dylan," and with a sly grin,  asks,
"How about we do some slow lover's sex in bed tonight?" I shrug,  "You're
the head of the household, Rob, that's up to you." He goes, "I knew you  were
still pissed-off at me. I explained what happened, admitted I  was wrong,
and said I'm sorry." Nodding my head, I mumble, "Yeah, you  did, and it's
okay, seriously, no problem." Then, to move on from that topic, I  ask, "Hey,
does Golden even know we're a gay couple?" Robby goes,  "Yeah, I told him."

I'm like, "You told him?" He's like, "Yeah. When the infield  coach assigned
freshman players to us co-captains, Danny and I  went off to separate areas
to talk with our freshman. That was one of the  first things I told Golden."

Looking surprised, I'm like, "Holy  shit! What'd he say?" Robby says, "He
shrugged and told me it wasn't a  problem. Get this: one of his twin
brothers is gay. He says they're fraternal twins, not identical." I go, "No  shit!

So he's cool with it, huh? Good for him." Hmmm, that is interesting. If a
brother is gay the chance of another brother being gay is  supposedly
slightly higher than the norm.

Golden  and Ryan come in off the balcony, with Golden's telling me, "I
cleaned everything, Dylan. Um, do you think I could borrow the barber stuff? My
 roommate is expecting a haircut when my barber equipment gets here. Mom's
mailing it UPS 'cause I stupidly forgot to bring it." Oh, he forgot to
bring his very professional barber stuff to college, huh? My shitty  drugstore
equipment is apparently okay now after all. Yeah, yeah, but  no sense me
acting like a baby any more than I already have. I force a  smile, saying,
"Sure, you can borrow this stuff whatever you need  it providing you promise to
give me my next haircut." He goes,  "Thanks, um, yeah I guess you could text
me when you need a haircut. If I'm not  too busy you could probably come
over to my dorm sometime in six or  eight weeks or so." What an ungracious
response! I might find that I  don't like Golden all that much. He says, "Rob,
can I have the keys to your  pickup. I'll put the barber kit in there so I
don't forget it." Robby tosses him  the keys and as Golden's going out the
door, Danny Monday's coming in. He's all  smiles and looking good. He has
almost a full beard now, but it's the kind  that outlines neatly on its own.  It
looks  soft and it's short, neat, and I gotta admit... sexy. Danny's a
really good  looking guy too; one of those rare guys who seem to get better
looking  the older he gets.

Danny  and Robby do a good two arm hug, grinning at each other, then Danny
points  at the door with his thumb, asking, "Was that your freshman who just
left?"  Robby goes, "Yeah, Golden Summers." Danny laughs, "Yeah, that's the
name.  We gotta think up a nickname for that kid." Then he takes a couple
steps  over to me, "Hiya, Dylan!" and I get a two-arm hug like the  one he
gave Robby. Danny's body feels like Robby's and he smells good too.  His soft
beard rubbing against my cheek during our hug got my  dick firming up a
little. If he and Robby are doing some buddy sex together I  can't say I blame
either of them. I'm jealous, but I don't blame them. Ryan gets  reintroduced
to Danny, although they vaguely know each other from last  year.

Golden  comes back from dropping off the barber tools and brings with  him
Chubby and John Beverly. John gives a wave saying 'hello'  while Chubby
gives everyone a hug and a compliment, then says, "Will  somebody please tell me
what the fuck this freshman's real name is.  He's claiming its Golden
Summers and he even has a fake Indiana driver's license  with that name on it. I
asked him why he didn't have his date of birth changed  since he went to
all the trouble of getting a fake license under that  name." This is
hysterically funny to Golden. He's laughing his ass off reminding  me of him laughing
earlier at the unfunny 'Buzz cut' chant. Actually, I like a  guy who laughs
easily and he sure has a good sounding sincere laugh. I  find out that
Chubby saw Golden in the parking lot near Robby's  pickup and somehow bonded
with him on the way upstairs to  the apartment. I mean he even got Golden to
show him his driver's license. I  would have liked to witness Chubby going,
"Hey, you! What are you doing in  that pickup?" All with a big smile on his
face, and Golden being kind of  nervous, and then Chubby hugging his shoulders
saying something outrageous, and  who knows what else. Chubby easily makes
total strangers feel like they've  known him  for years.

Everyone's  out on the balcony with a beer by now, except Robby, who's says
 he's sticking with soda tonight. I fill Chubby in on my plans for  dinner
and he gets the grille going while telling Golden, "Go with Dylan  and bring
me the steaks." Golden says, "Okay, Jeff," and follows me inside  still
chuckling. Maybe things aren't all that funny in Indiana, or else Golden's
easily amused. I point at the steaks on the kitchen bar and he  takes them out
to Chubby as I begin doing batches of  French fries,  salting them when they
come out of the hot oil, then keeping them hot in the  oven. Done one
batch, I do it all over again with another batch.  Ryan keeps me company while
Robby and Danny huddle together on  the balcony. As co-captains they're
probably talking about Merrimack's  baseball team that will begin three weeks of
fall practice Monday. Golden's  watching Chubby grille the steaks with both
of them animatedly pointing at the  grille and them laughing and in general
getting along very well.  I'm not sure Chubby even knows why Golden's here.

Meanwhile, Danny and Robby  wander over to the corner where I can't see them.

Huh. They wouldn't do anything  sexy with Chubby and Golden right there...

would they?

Ryan  asks, "What do you think about Rob mentoring this kid, Golden?" I
say, "Well,  first of all he was assigned to mentor Golden by the coach; it
wasn't  Rob's idea, and I guess I don't mind." He nods, then mumbles, "Oh, did
I tell  you my roommate's not arriving until tomorrow afternoon." I go,
"Yeah, you  told me on the phone earlier." Ryan walks behind the kitchen bar to
where  I'm standing by the stove. He gets in my space grinning at me so I
grin  back, asking, "What?" and he shrugs, "Oh nothing. It's nice being with
you  again. Last night sucked because it was killing me that you were right
there, but Rob kept me away from you." This has a little different feel to
it  from earlier today when Ryan and I were together. I mumble, "I didn't
realize  Rob was keeping you away from me. Are you sure?" He shrugs, "That's
what it  seemed like to me. I know you thought we were rude excluding you from
much of  our conversation, but it was really Rob keeping me talking so I
couldn't  talk to you." I go, "Oh come on, Ryan, the more I think about it,
that doesn't  seem to be something he would do." But, huh, Ryan might be right
 although I never gave that a thought until he brought it up just  now.

He  watches me doing the French fires,  then rubs my back, snickering, and
playfully asking, "You ready for me to  give you my specialty haircut yet?"

I snort out a laugh, "You  asshole, I just got a haircut a half hour ago."

He goes, "I know, and it's  a nice one too. Um, do you think we're gonna get
together as buddies any  time soon?" I go, "I mentioned that to you earlier
today and I was  rebuffed by you." He goes, "That wasn't rebuffing. I don't
do rebuff, and as a  matter of fact I think this is the first time in my
life I've  ever said that word." I grin, feeling good Ryan's finally asking  me
for sex instead of me nagging him for it like I pretty  much did through
the first half of the summer.

Golden  sticks his head in from the balcony, saying, "Dylan, Jeff says the
steaks are  ready.  He wants me to get a platter." I hand Ryan a platter
motioning that  he should pass it to Golden, telling Golden, "Yeah, thanks.

Ryan's got the  platter." Golden takes the platter as I ask Ryan, "Would you
get the salad out  of the fridge?" While he does that I drop the frozen onion
rings in the hot  oil and slam the lid on the pot because water from the
frozen rings causes the  oil to significantly flair up. Golden carries the
platter of steaks in with  Chubby following, and telling him, "Put it on the
bar, dude." Then  Chub goes, "Um, Golden, or whatever your real name is, would
you get a  carving knife from Dylan?" Jeezus, Chubby's already got Golden
running  errands for him. I pass Golden the knife and Chubby slices the
steaks,  which requires a certain technique considering the bone in the steaks  is
shaped like the letter 'T', thus the name of that cut of meat. You need  to
deal with that first by removing it. What you get then is two  steaks; the
smaller one is a filet mignon, and the other is a New York  strip steak.

Robby  whispers to me, "Will you do me a favor and make friends with Gol
den? He'll be  around quite a bit and I don't want him to feel awkward." I nod
at him and when  Golden is done giggling at whatever Chubby said to him, I
ask him, "Would  you me a favor, Golden, and make sure the grille's turned
off?"  Then tell the rest of the guys to grab a plate and serve  themselves.

When Golden gets back the other guys are already at the  kitchen table
that's only big enough for four. I'm like, "It looks  like you're stuck eating
with the chef at the kitchen bar, Golden." He  looks forlornly at his idol,
Chubby, for a second, then goes, "No problem,"  and we fill our plates. Still
a little concerned there won't be enough  steak I only take one slice even
though there's half of the second  T-bone steak still on the platter. It
won't be there for long of course,  but it looks like it'll be enough after all.

With  our plates full, Golden and I sit at the bar hearing laughter from
the four guys  at the table. Golden grins, saying, "I think I'm sitting on
the barbering stool," and he laughs his laugh. I keep switching from liking
him one minute, then not liking him the next. For instance, he swept the
balcony  after the haircuts, so I thank him for doing that, and he goes, "My
mentor  told me too. He's a really good guy, your, um, roommate." Avoiding a
'roommate/boyfriend' discussion, I ask, "Isn't it fun giving  haircuts?" He
looks startled, "Fun? No I don't think it's fun at all, and  frankly I was
looking forward to getting away from it somewhat here at  college, and then my
first full day here I need to do two haircuts, and I  promised my roommate
I'd give him one too when he gets here." I'm like, "You  want too get away
from giving haircuts, yet you asked your mom to UPS  your barber tools. Why'd
you do that if you want to avoid doing  haircutting?" He shrugs, "Yes, it
seems contradictory, but I only thought  it'd be only, Jake, my roommate, I
be giving a haircut. We exchanged  emails during the summer listing our
talents, and I mentioned cutting my  brothers' hair. So that'll be my
contribution to the dorm room, giving Jake  free haircuts, and his is he'll have a car
on campus. I thought I was  getting the best of that deal." I go, "Oh."

We  eat silently for a minute or so, then he says, "Rob mentioned you're a
accomplished barber too, so how many haircuts have you done?" I shrug, "Not
 nearly as many as you. Just my brother and a few friends... on and off."

He  goes, "You're lucky you don't have five brothers." To be sure  I
understand what he means; I ask him, "So, you don't like  giving haircuts at all?"

He chuckles, "You guys are always joking around.  Okay, I know you're jerking
my chain with that question, Dylan, but why on  earth would I like cutting
guy's stinky hair? I did it at home to help  my parents." I'm like, "How'd
that help your parents?" He shrugs, "We're  a lower middle class income
family, at best. Mom and Dad work hard,  but money's scarce and they're raising
six boys who eat a lot, so I do the boys'  haircuts for one reason only: to
save my parents like a hundred bucks  a month." Damn. Lower middle class
income, huh? I'm not sure exactly what  that means, but it doesn't sound too
good. Frankly I don't know  how to follow that up, so I change the subject
again, asking, "What made you  choose Merrimack?" He snorts out another laugh,
"It's the only college in the  nation that offered me a scholarship. It was
an easy choice; a free  education or a shit load of college loans." Boy, he
must really be a good  baseball player to get a scholarship. Rob didn't get
one and I think he's  an excellent shortstop, and obviously so do the coaches
and the other  players. I mean, they voted him co-captain.

Glancing  at the side of Golden's face I notice his long curly hair makes
his  profile kinda cute, but full face he's not really what I'd call cute.

Well he is above average in that department; it's his chin that fucks-up an
otherwise cute face. He's cute from his mouth up. I probably won't suggest
this,  but if he let his beard grow a little it might cover up the ass-crack
in  his chin. There's another problem too: his arms on the kitchen bar  are
hairy. Curly light brown hairs all over his forearms. Funny how I think
hairy legs are sexy, but hairy arms are more like gross than sexy. He says,
"I've got a fact for you about haircutting; something you probably never  gave
a thought to." I go, "What's that?" and he says, "Well, first of all my
great grandfather, may he rest in peace, was a barber until he died a  couple
years back. He had a barbershop in Seattle and worked it right up until  the
day of his heart attack. Anyway, he was in the barber's union there in
Seattle and, since he knew I was doing the barbering for my brothers,  he
talked barbering with me the rare times he visited us. He told me the  president
of his union had this concern about barbers joining the union;  guys who got
'off' from cutting hair short." I go, "Got off, um, whaddaya  mean?" He
says, "Believe it or not there are guys, mostly gay guys,  no offense intended,
who get sexually aroused by cutting guys'  hair really short, or getting
their own hair cut wicked short. Is that sick  or what?"

I'm  chewing some steak glancing at Ryan to see if he heard that, but he
isn't  paying any attention to Golden and me. Golden says, "Were you aware  of
that, Dylan?" I swallow, muttering, "Haircut fetish, you mean?" He goes,
"Yeah, exactly. That's what it's called." I go, "I can honestly say that's  a
baffling subject to me; one I can't say I understand. Did your great
grandfather have an explanation, um, for that fetish?" He half turns  on the
stool to face me, "Yeah. He said psychologists determined that at  some point in
the lives of these individuals their unconscious minds made an  intrinsic
connection between their masculinity and the length of their hair. The
shorter their hair the more masculine they felt. The underlying  factor, at the
heart of the fetish, is a fear of emasculation." I go, "Wow, you  sure know a
lot about this shit, don'cha?" He shrugs, "No, not really. That's  the full
extent of my knowledge on the subject, and it came from my  great
grandfather who may or may not be full of shit for all I know," and  he laughs again.


When  he turns back facing the bar to finish his fries, I ask, "Do you know
 anything about a leather fetish, or guys who get sexually aroused by
feet?"  He does his easy laugh and pats my shoulder, "Nope, can't help you with
that, but did you know some people can have an orgasm from being put  in a
tiny space?" I go, "No, I didn't," and he says, "Yeah, it's called
claustrophobia. There are sacks a person gets squeezed into and then air  is sucked
out tightening the material around the person." I go, "Jesus! I  have
claustrophobia and even hearing that makes me short of breath." He  shrugs, "I'm
just saying," and I'm like, "Um, how many people in Crown Point,  Indiana,
besides yourself that is, get orgasms from being put in  a tiny space?" Another
good laugh from Golden, who finally mutters, "Just me."  I'm not at all
sure he's kidding about  that.

When  everyone's finished with their dinner I cut the pie into six pieces.

Golden  and I have our backs against the bar now. We're facing the guys at
the  table holding our pie plates and eating while listening to Robby
bitching  about unsolicited emails. Golden pipes up with, "I never respond to
anonymous mail." Robby asks, "Well how the fuck could you, even if you  wanted
to? And how could an email be anonymous." Golden mumbles, "Oh, yeah,  that's
right," and he laughs." I chuckle too, assuming he was making a joke with
his 'anonymous' comment. Then we're talking about mall shopping and Golden
has  something to say about that too. He tells us, "Nobody goes to the Crown
Point  Mall anymore because it's too crowded." I look at Robby, who shrugs,
then  he asks Golden, "When you come to a fork in the road, do you take it?"

Golden grins, saying, "I'd check with Yogi Berra first. Oh no, wait, he
died."  He was putting us on with some of Yogi's nutty words of wisdom. Chubby
says,  "Don't you mean Yogi Bear?" and the conversation further deteriorates
from  there.

Later  we're all out on the balcony again and everyone has a fresh beer,
even  Robby this time. A few of us are smoking while Chubby and Golden talk to
three  girls who made the mistake of walking below our balcony in the
parking lot.  I'm not paying attention to their banter back and forth, but hear
the  girl's laughing. Robby and Danny are standing in a corner near the gas
grille talking quietly and looking serious. Ryan's with me leaning on the
railing opposite the grille. He's in my personal space again as he pulls on
my ear, saying, "Remember our freshman year together, Dylan? It's like at
times  I can hardly believe that ever happened. You were ridiculously naive,
don't  you think?" I push his hand away from my ear, but hold onto it for a
second  or two. Our eyes meet as I murmur, "Yeah, as far as sub/dom sex goes
I was  definitely more naive than you. You were the expert." He goes, "Yeah,
 pretty much an expert, but you know I learned all about it the hard
way... from being a victim of masochists." I'm uncomfortable talking about  that
aspect of my freshman year because I feel like the world's  biggest fool for
how submissive to Ryan I became back then. Much more  so than in Marietta.

And it's scary how much I enjoyed the sexual rush  I got from it too. I tell
Ryan, "Yeah, but I'm a different person now. Not  much of that childish
shit appeals to me anymore. I  finally know better." He has a little smile on
his lips as  he shrugs like he's not so sure about that. I put my finger on
his lips,  saying, "Wipe that smug know-it-all smile off your face. I am
different  now, and even if you could be that dominant again I know you wouldn't
do  anything I didn't want you to do." He captures my finger in his fist,
mumbling,  "Well, that last part is true anyway."

Taking  a drag off my cigarette, then exhaling it in Ryan's face, we both
grin as he  says, "It was the most awesome feeling freshman year the way
you'd stare at me  with that hungry look in those puppy dog eyes of yours;  a
pleading look wanting me to dominate your ass again." Then he  whispers close
to my ear, "Pleading to be dominantly fucked hard. I'd give  in to your
pleading but only after a hard spanking and you'd sit on my  lap bawling like a
little kid." I nod my head, "Yeah, ha! I'm not so sure  about the pleading
part though. I kinda remember blowing my nose in a used  handkerchief that
you'd hold to my nose. What a prick you were back then."  He chuckles, "That
was age regression right there. You acted like a little boy,  and you loved
it!" I give him a dirty look, "Okay, so you had me so wrapped  around your
finger so much I could hardly catch my breath. How'd you do  that anyway, and
why did you?" He runs his fingers through my hair and I go,  "Don't, not
here, Ryan" and glance over at Robby to see if he's looking our  way. He's not,
but I notice Danny's in Robby's space the way Ryan's in  mine. Looking back
at Ryan I get a funny feeling in my balls. I snort out a  nervous laugh and
he goes, "What?" Shaking my head, I mumble, "Oh,  nothing." He grips the
back of my neck, asking, "What was it?" Taking a  deep breath, I move my head
closer to his, quietly saying, "It's  nothing you don't already know. I
just, um, think you're sexy. That's  all."

He's  nodding his head, then says, "Well hell, that's no small thing to me,
 Dylan." Chewing on my bottom lip I'm just now realizing how much Ryan got
into  my head while I stayed at his place in Georgia. He was so damn nice to
me  while being in charge, plus his sub/dom sex was addictive. Damn, I
thought I'd  be over that by now! I try not looking at him because I'm feeling
aroused  thinking about our freshman year together. Ryan takes my cigarette
butt from my  fingers, mumbling, "You're going to burn your fingers." I look
down and see  the cigarette burned almost to the filter. He flicks it away,
and  asks, "What were you thinking just now that made you look so serious?"

I shake  my head, "Um, I don't remember," and then look at him grinning
goofily. He laughs a little, saying, "You're acting strange, even for you."  I
go, "Hey! I'm not strange, don't be a prick." Then I'm quiet again glancing
across the balcony where I see Robby with his arm across Danny's shoulders
as they both look at a pamphlet Danny's holding. Ryan see's  where I'm
looking, and says, "They're looking at the 2016 spring baseball  schedule for
Merrimack's baseball team. I recognize it because it looks the same  as last
year's schedule." I go, "Oh," and he asks, "Are Rob and Danny, um,  buddies
again?" I go, "I don't know for sure. Robby was wicked pissed-off at  Danny
for quitting his crew like the second week of the summer, but I guess
they've pretty much patched things up since then."

Ryan  faces me and pats my chest, "Here's what I want you to do right now,
Dylan.  Go over and tell Rob you want to use my Mini tomorrow, so you're
going with  me back to my dorm, then you'll drive the Mini back here." I'm
like, "Huh? Oh,  you mean so we can have our reunion sex in your dorm room.

Jeez, I'd  really like to Ryan, seriously. I have missed you, but not tonight."

He looks me  in the eyes and quietly says, "Go ahead and do what I said."

Taking a deep  breath, I'm like, "Fuck no! He'll know what the deal is. It's
not fair to  flaunt it in his face, and I won't do it." Ryan's angry now,
saying, "Have  it your way, Dylan, but those two are almost in each other's
pants right  now." I give him a hug and say in his ear, "I told you I missed
you, but we need  to wait until sometime when we'd be less conspicuous?" He
struggles out of  the hug, whispering, "Didn't I ask you to please not be a
cock teaser? You  come on to me telling me how sexy I am and lean all over me,
then say 'no' you  don't want to do anything to disrespect Rob. Did you
ever worry about that in  Georgia when you showed those same pleading eyes you
had as a  freshman?" I  say, too loudly, "I did not!" Everyone heard me
shout, 'I did not,' and  they look over at us as I quietly hiss, "I didn't have
pleading eyes in Georgia. It was mutual between us." My face is  red, as
Ryan says, "Just another definitive Dylan-statement, meaning  nothing."

Chubby  heard that and he points at Ryan, "What the fuck did you mean by
that, Ryan?" I  go, "It's nothing, Chub, really!" He gives Ryan a cold stare
and it's a little  tense as Chubby says, "Be careful what you say about
Dylan. I can get a little  upset when I hear someone disparaging him... just
saying." Golden goes, "Um,  Jeff, how 'bout we go downstairs and call the girls'
bluff." Chubby  stares at Ryan, waiting to see if he has anything to say.

Ryan's frowning  looking away, so Chubby tells Golden, "In a minute, Golden."

Robby and  Danny are looking over at us too, so I go, "We're fine, Rob," and
Ryan  says to me, "I'm taking off. God forbid anyone says anything negative
about you  with your crazy brother around. Thanks for the dinner," and he
walks  in through the sliding doors. What the fuck? I wait two seconds then
follow him into the kitchen, saying, "Don't be an asshole, Ryan. Stop!  My
brother is not crazy." He turns around, red in the face, saying, "I  have
feelings too, you know. Do me a favor, don't lead me on anymore. That's all  I
ask." I take hold of his arm, saying, "I was just telling you how I honestly
felt. You're sexy and, um, I think you're attractive." He snorts, "And you
don't think that's leading me on? How about touching me all the  time and
staring me in the eyes?" I go, "Okay, you're right. I guess  I was
subconsciously leading you on." He goes, "Ya can't blame everything  on the
subconscious, Dylan," then he wraps his arms around me and does  one of his hot
patented kisses for like five, seemingly long seconds. Yep,  that raises a hard
boner in my pants as I cling to him. He says, "See you  tomorrow," and turns
to go out the door. I follow him and catch him on the  steps, "Wait, Ryan.

Um, you're not mad at me, are you?" and my fingers go in his  longish hair. He
steps up to the step I'm on and we kiss again, but  quickly this time, then
says, "See ya."

I  watch him go out the door realizing again what an indelible impression
he  made on me last summer. It was easy to submerge desire when he was out of
sight  and mostly out of mind, but now he's here and it's no longer so
easy. Back  in the apartment I go right to the bathroom to take a piss watching
my penis go  from hard to limp, then I wash my face and hands. Looking at my
 reflection in the mirror over the sink, I give a brief thought at how much
 better my hair looks, then I'm back to wondering... what the fuck am  I
going to do about Ryan?


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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