Date: Fri, 19 May 2017 20:48:22 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE    Chapter  43

DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter  43

By  Donny Mumford

Everybody's heard that  absence makes the heart grow fonder and where Rob's
concerned it's true for  me. I'm not exactly sure when but there was a time
during the  last few months when something seemed to click in place in my
brain and my feelings and affection and appreciation for Robby solidified at
a  higher level than ever. It's almost like I'm experiencing the intensity
of puppy  love or first love for him all over again. It's a gooey delicious
feeling  being in love like this. Oh sure, we have our minor differences
from time  to time but only rarely and they're quickly put behind us. Rob's
noticed the change in me and he's stopped questioning my love for  him which
has been like a running gag with us You don't love me as much as I  love
you... that kind of thing. I can be overly demonstrative  about how much I love
and respect Rob as head of our  relationship. After saying all that, I
ponder at times why I'm feeling this  way about him. It's like I've put him on a
pedestal and I'm not  sure why... I mean, what changed? It's puzzling, but
not in a bad  way.

I just want to be with  him I guess. Actually it's hard to put my feelings
for Rob into words. He's  developed a casual confidence about leading our
relationship and  l believe he might even be enjoying his position. To his
credit  though he's rarely taken advantage of it and I can't think of an
example where there's been a hint of arrogance from him. He  certainly can turn
me on sexually and he's always looking out for  me so that's good.  Not
taking himself too seriously, Rob  will laugh at himself and he's just a lot of
fun to be with. That's  especially noteworthy because he used to be so
fucking uptight. Of  course there's always been his awesome sexy appearance and
hot body and I  love having sex with him. I don't know, maybe it's that I'm
finally mature enough myself to appreciate all Rob's attributes. Oh  fuck it,
like I said, I can't put my feelings for him into words and I why  should I
need to anyway?
After hot and frantic  reunion sex in the condo earlier this evening Rob
took me out to dinner at the  restaurant where my Mom waitresses, 'Joe Blair's
Restaurant  and Cocktail Lounge'. Mom introduced me to Joe Blair once and
he's a cool  dude. In the restaurant there was the normal hugs and kisses
from the  Moms which was awkward for me, but sweet too.  After that Rob and I
settled in and enjoyed the hell out of our meal. We both  had three
Manhattans before dinner and then we followed-up the awesome  dinner with Irish
coffees and dessert. Back at the condo we had a beer so booze  was partially
influential in this crazy love and admiration for Rob I've been  feeling
tonight.

We got naked and hopped  into bed for a sweet lover's make-out which led to
some hot  and sexy making-out which led us naturally to sex and I ended-up
'topping'. Not being an overconfident individual myself I can't help
wondering if my 'topping' was less satisfying for Rob compared to  our earlier
sex. Anyway, here we are in bed under the  covers with our arms around one
another and not talking at the  moment which gave me the time to think these
thoughts. My dick is  sticky with cum and I suppose cum is drooling out of
Rob's ass but other than  that everything is pretty fucking good.

After a sigh  from Rob, one I'm hoping is a sign of contentment, he uses
two  fingers to push my bangs to the side and out of my eyes, as  he murmurs,
"That was really hot sex, Dylan. Took me by surprise though and  I'm
wondering how you decide when you're going to 'top'?" Before I can answer,  he
goes, "And I'm most definitely not complaining, don't get me  wrong." I rustle
around a little getting up on an elbow to look down into his  eyes. I'm
always accusing 'tops' of hinting for compliments and  reassurances that it was
good for their sex partner and now I find I can't  resist doing it myself,
"Seriously though, how was it for you? I know I  probably don't 'top' as good
as you, but...." He interrupts, "No, that's  not true! You were awesome. It
was really sexy and hot and I had a fantastic  orgasm." Smirking now, I'm
tracing the pad of my finger across his lips,  asking, "Really? It was good
for you too then, huh? You're not just saying  that?" He smiles, "It was
really, really good sex. You were a tiger-top  tonight, Dylan, but how do you
decide you're gonna be a 'top'?"  Shrugging  elaborately, I go, "I don't know.

It just happens... and you say it was pretty  good, huh?" He chuckles,
muttering, "The best!"

Enjoying that vote of  confidence, I go, "Well that's good to know.

Obviously I like it better the  other way around because nobody does sex as good as
you, but once in a while, ya  know...." He nods, "Once in a while you get
the urge to 'top'," and I go,  "Exactly, but let me be clear. Your hard dick
inside me is the pinnacle of  sexual ecstasy for me. No one's ever done it
as good." He smiles,  squinting his eyes like maybe I'm exaggerating, then he
mumbles, "Thank's Dylan.  I hope you sort of mean that." I'm like, "You're
my man,  Rob, so of course I mean it. There's nothing in my world nearly as
good as being a bottom-boy for you." He chuckles, repeating, "Bottom-boy."

Then  he adds, "Yeah, after all this time together I know how much you love
being, un, the bottom boy, and I love doing it with you. There's no one in
this world I'd rather have sex with than you, but you already knew that." I
 ask, "And you're finally confident I feel the same way about you?" He nods
and  grins, saying, "Yep, I don't need to wonder about that anymore. It was
 like bang and like overnight you started giving me chills the way  you
looked up to me and the way you try to please me and openly showed your  love."

I nod, "Yep, I'm definitely feeling it like never before, Rob.  That's why
I say: you're my man!" He chuckles again, then shrugs, "Well, you've  made
me feel really special lately and I need to hold back tears  of joy sometime
because of it." I mumble, "Tears of joy might be  overstating things but I'm
happy you've finally stopped questioning my love."  Rob's grinning,
muttering, "About time I noticed it, huh?" Satisfied with  our mutual admiration
society I'm fiddling with Rob's short bangs getting them  to stay up like
they're supposed to.

Then, tracing the pad  of my finger from his hairline down his forehead and
on down the top of his  perfectly shaped nose, I murmur, "Yeah, it's about
time you noticed." He  pulls my hand away and then kisses my fingers,
murmuring, "And thanks for saving  me after that asshole fucked-up my hair last
Wednesday." I'm like, "Oh  that. Yeah, you're welcome; it was easy. Um, would
you say you love me more now  than, um, like a year ago?" He shakes his
head, grinning, "No, not really. I've  loved you full-out, one-hundred
percent-balls-to-the-wall for a couple of years  now. It'd be impossible to love you
more than I already do." I nod as if that  makes any sense and then grin,
"Oh, so it's something like the speed  of light in that it's impossible to go
faster than that, and you've hit the  highest level of love a mortal person
or physics will allowed." He laughs  quietly, muttering, "Exactly like that,
Dylan." I mumble, "Bullshit," and lean  down for a kiss. He gets his arm
around the back of my neck to hold me there  while his tongue explores my
mouth and then he sucks on my top  lip.

Smiling and  laughing quietly we tell each other crazy things about how
in-love we are  and somewhere along the line we fall asleep. I think Rob's eyes
closed first and  then I rested my eyes for a few seconds too. That's what
I think happen, or  I may have dreamed it. In any case I know I'm awake now
and Rob's still  sleeping. Hmmm, I'm not sure how much moving around we did
while sleeping  but I'm almost on top of him with the sides of our faces
together. He's looking  up while my face is buried in the pillow right next to
his head. I could  have fuckin' smothered! I roll over on my back feeling a
bit hungover  although not seriously so. It's just a different feeling from
waking-up sober,  which is obviously the preferable way to wake-up. Of
course waking-up  without a trace of a hangover means you probably missed the fun
of  getting smashed with your friends and/or lover the night  before.

Huh, my mouth taste  like a trash dumpster with an ashtray dumped in it.

That's a little odd  because we only had like two cigarettes the entire night.

Going to bed  without brushing your teeth is not advisable if you care
anything about  morning-breath. Also, the previous night if you're planning on
making-out  it's advisable to imbibe and smoke whatever the person you're
with imbibes  and smokes. Two bad-breaths cancel each other out. The same thing
applies to  eating food with garlic. If your potential sex partner eats it,
so should  you. These are basic rules to live by that most people figure
out on  their own... heh heh. Oh fuck, why am I thinking these crazy
thoughts?
Taking a deep breath, I  force myself to get out of bed and then pad into
the bathroom for an  overdue piss... aaaaaah!  After vigorously washing my
hands and face I brush my teeth for  two-full-minutes. The buzzing
electric-toothbrush apparently has awakened  Rob because he calls out, "Dylan, what
time is it?" Yeah, what the  fuck time is it? After looking at my sports watch
I yell back to him,  "It's a little after six," then cringe thinking we both
yelled too loudly.  I definitely do not want to wake mom who's sleeping in
her bedroom  that's on the other side of our side-by-side bathrooms. She
usually gets home  like two o'clock in the morning and sleeps until ten or
eleven. She  deserves every hour of sleep she can get too.

Rob comes into the  bathroom naked. Well, we're both still naked from last
night. He hugs me  from behind and kisses the side of my neck, saying, "Hey,
I need to give  you another hickey. Returning to our youthful days and
habits is fun." I  hunch my shoulders, mumbling, "You're giving me chills, Rob.

I can feel your  beard a little too." He lets go of me and then takes a
piss, saying, "Can I use  your toothbrush?" I'm like, "If you wash your hands
first." He chuckles,  muttering, "I'm the cleanest person you know, wise-guy."

Turning off the  toothbrush I rinse out my mouth and then hold the
toothbrush-bristles under  water too hot to touch, saying, "I'm sterilizing the
toothbrush for you, Mister  Clean."

Rob washes his  hands and face twice and then uses the toothbrush as I
stare at him wanting to  hug him and kiss him and suck his cock and rim his ass.

Nerve endings buzz all  around my groin as I say in a serious manner, "Rob,
I have this  indescribable love for you. I can't articulate effectively how
strong my  feeling are in that regard and I'm wondering, um... well, it's a
little  unnerving to tell you the truth." With his mouth full of
toothpaste, he  asks, "Unnerving? Why's that?" I shrug, "I don't know. It's like I'm
at a  distinct disadvantage because I might do any fucking thing you wanted
me to  do in my effort to try pleasing you and to get you paying attention to
 me." He's shakes his head slowly laughing and splattering specks of
toothpaste on the mirror, then he goes, "The priceless things you say! I  never
know what's coming out of your mouth next."

That's just so wrong!  He's rinsing the toothpaste out as I stare at his
mouth. Rob's mouth is  like John Smith's mouth. Awesomely clean-looking with
bright-white perfect teeth  and pink everything else. After he's wiped his
mouth with a hand towel I  put my hands on either side of his head turning it
to me and kiss him with my  tongue in his sparkling clean mouth. He
reciprocates and soon we're  groveling in each other's arms kissing, sucking, and
licking for maybe two  minutes. We both get hard boners that bob between us
until finally Rob's  stronger arms get me turned around. The head of his
boner, wet with precum, is  at my asshole and then inside me with me groaning,
"Ooooh, aaaah, fucccck. That  hurts." Robby's got his arms around the front of
my waist doing gentle  hip humps that push his boner up my ass a half-inch
at a time as he  sucks, licks, and kisses the side of my neck raising a
hickey there. I try  getting out of his arms so maybe I can get some lube but
he's too strong  and too sexually aroused.

All  my muscles are taut as I struggle and then, just like that, I feel a
fantastic  veil of submissiveness come draping down over me and I get docile
for Robby.  This doesn't happen all that often with him so I revel in the
sensation of  submissiveness during this sex act. He stops building the hickey
to murmur,  "Nice. I like it when you get like this for me." No more
struggling as I  allow Rob to do as he wishes, my arms hanging at my sides. He
does one last  hard hump of his hips and he's tightly against my buttocks
grinding his  hips a little. Then another hard hump to maybe emphasize he's
in-charge and then he goes back to sucking on the hickey as precum drips from my
 boned-up cock. My head is lazily over to the side so Rob can easily work
on the  hickey he intends for me to show-off the next few days. He's just
recently  revisited giving me hickeys and I like it. A hickey on your neck is
evidence there's someone who thinks you're hot.

The pain of the almost  dry entry inside my ass hangs-on for a bit longer
than usual, but when it  starts fading it's like totally incredible how
wonderful it now feels being  filled-up totally by Rob's hard fat cock. I sigh
and Rob whispers, "That's  my Dylan, the boy I love like life itself." I
dreamily murmur "This feels  so good, Rob. Sorry I was fighting you." He does
three long licks on the  hickey, then murmurs, "I'm sorry I didn't take the
time to  lubricate both of us." I go, "Well it's all good now, Rob. Look at my
dick. It's  so hard it's sticking straight-out and quivering in it's
tightness. Only you can get me this  aroused." He murmurs, "Good," and goes back to
sucking my stinging hickey  as I tighten my buttocks muscles increasing the
pleasure on his fat hard cock  that's pressing against my super-sensitive
prostate gland. It's  buzzing with pleasure. He does a few two-inch
withdrawals and thrusts as my  back arches, "Mmmmm, Rob, mmm. Fuck me, Rob." Without
commenting on  that he sucks on my hickey for another thirty-seconds and,
even though  it's burning and stinging, I'm feeling deep sexual  arousal.

Finally, he  goes, "There, baby, that hickey will be around for a few
days." I lift  a finger to feel the bump, nodding my head like it's just what I
wanted.  Then for some dumb reason I say, "Thank you, Rob." he chuckles then
goes,  "Well you couldn't be more welcome. Do you want to bend forward now?"

I nod  and lean over to grip the sink feeling silly for having said 'thank
you'. The  hickey is still wet with his saliva and a drip of his spit drools
slowly  down my neck in a thin stream. Oh man I'm feeling sort of dominated
by Robby's  swollen cock up my ass and this big hickey sticking up from my
neck.

It's a beautiful thing  whenever I can get a submissive sense towards
Robby's dominance. I have  to smile to myself as I'm holding onto the rim of the
sink waiting for  him to fuck my ass hard. He's in no hurry though. He
leaves his hard cock  fully impaling me while he rubs his hands up and down my
sides and then  leans in to lick my hickey again and whisper, "I got you now,
don't I?" I nod,  "Yes, you've got me exactly how I want you to 'get me'...

and I love it."  He pulls his hard cock back slowly setting off sizzling
sensations in my  rectum making me shudder with pleasure. After hesitating a
couple of seconds he  pushes his boner back in and I shudder again moaning,
"Ooooh, mmmm, Rob..."  He goes, "I know, baby," and he puts his hands lightly
on my shoulders  as his hips casually begin moving smoothly at a medium pace
with my  prostate pulsing-out awesome sensations of pleasure while the
stretched lips of  my asshole are stimulated into a super sensitive state. It's
like  having the worse itch I can imagine being scratched perfectly until I
can  hardly believe how good it feels.

He keeps up the steady  smooth thrusting for a few minutes with my whole
body squirming with desire for  him to fuck me harder, "Faster Rob, harder!"

He leans on my back hugging my  stomach with both arms, murmuring, "I know
how you like it, baby, but I'm going  to enjoy it slow and easy a little while
longer." I gasp, "Ummm, ooh,  mmmm, Rob."  His forehead is against the back
of my head as I'm  humping my ass back into his methodical thrusting. Slow
steady smooth and tight  thrusts for another couple of minutes. He's pushing
his boner  slowly up my ass until his hips hit my quivering butt cheeks and
 then after a second or two he steadily withdrawal that fat hard cock  of
his at the same speed. The big head with the wide rim at the bottom
tantalizes every nerve ending in my ass. It keeps my shoulders  constantly
shuddering. I know his thrusting has to be faster than I think it  is, but to me it
seems to take a minute for that four-inch fat boner  to pull all the way back
and distend the lips of my asshole, then he hesitates  for a second or two
before a lazy trip back up my ass and it feels so  awesome except I want to
climax so badly I could scream. My forehead  drops down on my hands as I
savor the sexy sensation in my rectum until  finally this slow thrusting
ignites my orgasm and everything doubles-up.  Twice the sensations as an orgasm
begins building as I'm making quiet  whining sounds, "Mmm, ooooh, mmm, aaah,
aaah." Robby stretches his neck to lick  my stinging hickey again, continuing
his methodical, thrust... thrust... thrust  until I need to cum so badly my
body's jerking around and I'm grunting, "Un, un,  un, oooh, Rob, Robby."

He murmurs, "Okay,  okay, Dylan," and he lifts his chest off my back
gripping my hips and  begins slamming his hard cock up my ass fucking me fast and
hard for  thirty seconds. It's (a out) an explosion of pleasure from my
rectum as I lift my head and my body gets stiffer and stiffer as my climax  is
building and building. I hold my breath as a major orgasm  comes roaring up
on me and then, "Eeeiiiiaah," cum pumps out of my cock  splashing against
the sink that's two inches in front of my throbbing  cock's head, then more
cum shoots out as I shudder and shake bumping back into  Rob. He grunts and
wraps his arms around my waist humping hard against my  butt cheeks as his
load of creamy cum fills my ass.  More humping against my buttock and more cum
shoots inside me as I lay back  against his chest and breathe deeply.

Gasping and seeing points of light  fading as the last sizzles of orgasm die out,
and now this wonderful feeling of  contentedness swarms all over me as my
head lulls back on Rob's  shoulder.

He's gasping as he  humps his cock up my ass hard, sliding easily in  his
slippery cum that's leaking out around his softening cock and  running down
the inside my legs. Pulling his cock out completely, he goes,  "Ooooh that
felt sooooo fucking good, Dylan." He smacks my ass twice, "SMACK! SMACK!"

asking, "Why were you carrying-on so much?" I turn around and hug him tightly,
then run my fingers through his short hair, murmuring, "I don't know
exactly  because every second of it was sexy-hot and deliciously wonderful. But
you gotta  admit we've been doing it fast and hard lately and I was extra
anxious to  feel my orgasm and to feel your's get sloppy up inside me." I hang
on him as he  tries to separate us, quietly saying, "We're sweaty, Dylan!
Please don't  hang on me, okay?" I back away and Robby mutters, "Um, let's take
a shower." I'm  just looking at him so he finally asks, "What?" I'm like,
"That's the first  time you've ever said that to me." He goes, "Well, like I
said, we're sweaty and  I'm a little hungover and..." I go, "I like hanging
on you and being with you."  He nods, "Yeah, I know. Um, I shouldn't have
said that. I'm really sorry,"  and he puts his arms around me, saying, "Hang
on me all you want. I'm flattered  you want to."

I let him have a guilty  conscience by not saying anything for
ninety-seconds although I was  actually the guilty party for overdoing it. I've  been
telling myself not to overdo it but I get to feeling this over-the- top  thing
for him. It's like I need all his attention and  I want us to cuddle and
fuck all day just him and me.  After he's  hugged me and rubbed my back
enough, I mumble, "Okay, I admit I  overdid my affection for you a little bit
there, Rob. It's not your fault.  You're so, um, irresistible to me sometimes,
ya know?" He says, "Good to know,  but I'm an idiot forever turning your
affection away. It's  something I should cherish." I look at him, "Yeah well,
Rob, I do need a lot of  attention and I deserve it too. After all, I am your
loyal  and devoted lover so you do need to spoil me a little bit more." He
chuckles, "Jesus, I thought I was spoiling you to the maximum allowed by
law already." I go, "No, you need to pick-up your game in the spoiling area."

He grins, "The things that come out of your mouth." I go, "Just being
honest  with you. I like being adored once in a while myself, ya know." He goes,
"Ha,  I've adored you from the second you said hello to me and that was
almost four  years ago." I'm like, "Would you care to elaborate?" He laughs,
"Um, sure. If I  could. Um, it's like my adoration of you is identical to that
speed-of-light  metaphor of yours." I'm like, "You mean there's a finite
amount of adoring  possible and you're at that level now?" He nods, "Yep, but
even so I'm a gamer  and I'll try harder. Like right now I'm going to adore
you by bathing you  in the shower." I go, "Well it's a start, I guess. Let's
get to it."

He's laughing in the  bathroom as he gets the water running. When he's
satisfied the  temperature is just right he smacks my ass, "Smack!" and says,
"In you go."  We're both in the shower stall as he grips the back of my neck
holding me  under the shower's nozzle with water pouring down on me. Rob
turns me  slowly with a hand on each of my shoulders now and then he does
everything involved with bathing. First moving me away from the water  and
shampooing my hair by running his fingers through it and then dragging  my hair
forward. My bangs are so long they reach just below my tightly closed  eyes. A
final vigorous massage of my scalp and then he directs  me under the water
flow rinsing out the shampoo. He does it twice,  murmuring, "You'll have
very clean hair for your haircut." I smirk at him  without speaking and then
close my eyes and mouth in the nick-of-time as  Rob wipes my face with a soapy
washcloth. Without another word from either  of us he energetically scrubs
my body as though I haven't bathed for  months. There's nothing gentle about
Rob's bathing technique and he constantly  has a hold of some part of me
moving me to and fro.

Rob washes my body  head to toe with vigor. I'm like a flexible mannequin
as he lifts an arm or  turns me around or pushes me under the water or drags
me away from it; whatever  he sees fit to do I don't resist or assist. I do
nothing except enjoy it  and after a while it gets kind of hypnotizing and
there's a steady sexy  buzzing in my nuts. In my little hypnotized trance, I
think about Robby giving  me a haircut later tonight and the buzzing moves
from my nuts to my dick getting  it to firm-up enough so that it hangs away
from my body a  little. It's awesome being roughly bathed like this. It's
very special  being touched and worked-on by Rob and I kinda wish he'd do my
haircut as soon  as we dry-off. That thought makes my shoulders do their
little shudder  although Robby doesn't see that as he's on his knees finishing-up
washing  my legs and feet. He stands and with a hand on each shoulder he
now holds  me under the water flow for a minute while slowly turning me or
lifting an arm  or bending me over while moving my body this way then that way
until I'm  as rinsed-off as I've ever been rinsed-off before in my life. I'm
a  tad water-logged by the time he's satisfied that I'm washed  and rinsed
properly.

In my hypnotic peaceful  trance Rob smacks my ass and I yelp, coming out of
my trance, as he goes,  "I'm sorry, but you'll need to dry yourself. I'm
washing  my body now." He opens the door to the shower stall and smacks  my
wet ass again as I walk out. Oh man, squeaky-clean may not even cover how  cle
an I am. Smiling about that extremely pleasant experience, I'm drying
myself and then in the bedroom I get dressed in jockey shorts, comfy soft
sweatpants and a hoodie sweatshirt to match. Finally, with sweat socks and
sneakers on I sit at the desk waiting for Rob. There's a nice tingling to my  skin
and scalp as I think about the way Rob bathed me. If I were a prince or a
king in some region of the world where there's are princes and kings that's
how  I'd choose to bath every day. I'd have a sexy slave boy do my bathing
and later  maybe I'd have him fuck me hard. Heh heh, dream on fool...

I'm day-dreaming about  that shower experience until Rob emerges from the
steamy bathroom  all pink and clean. I smile at him and say, "That was a very
good  start to your new level of spoiling me." He gives me a smile, saying,
"I  enjoyed every minute of it. I'll baby you and spoil you until you're
ready  to scream." I go, "There will never be enough spoiling to satisfy  me,
and since you're my man it's your job anyway. Spoiling me  and buying me
shit." He mutters, "Buying you shit? You know I'm  cheap," and I go, "Well buy
me shit on sale then," and we both laugh shaking our  heads at how stupid
we're being. Having fun and laughing together is almost as  important as
having good sex. Both should be a good time.

Rob goes, "What  can I wear of yours, Dylan? I don't want to put on my old
clothes after  showering." Together we go through my stuff and he finds
another set  of sweatpants and sweatshirt he likes although there's no hood on
the  sweatshirt. He goes, "A pair of socks too," and I toss him a pair of
white sweat  socks. He's putting them on, asking, "Are you planning for us to
do a lot of  sweating today?" I go, "I hope not. These are just really
comfortable  clothes." He nods his head, mumbling, "I know, I'm teasing," and he
comes over  to me as I'm sitting on the desk chair, saying, "No joking
around, Dylan, I feel  terrible about telling you not to hang on me. As soon as I
said it, I thought to  myself... 'Uh-oh, that was a big mistake, Robert!" I
grin, "Well you paid the  price for that tactless comment that hurt my
feelings down to the quick."  He goes, "The quick?" I shrug, "That's the phrase!
Who the hell knows what  it means for real?"

Rob asks, "Would a hug  help?" I say, "Yeah, but it better be a good one."

He leans over and gives me a  tight hug. Ha, I overdid my affection for him
and he's the one who ends-up  feeling guilty. Standing, I say, "We're even
now, Rob. Your cruel heartless  comment is forgotten." He grins, "Thanks be
to God!" I go, "Now that that's  settled let's have breakfast at the Pancake
House." We get our coats on as I'm  saying, "You didn't want to stay
overnight, but you did anyway." We go out the  door with him shrugging, "Not
intentionally. I just didn't want to walk out  of your bedroom and see your mom
standing there." I go, "Very little danger of  that. She doesn't get up until
like ten or eleven. How about your parents? What  will they say when you
walk in, or will they even be up?" He goes, "Oh, they'll  be up, but I have no
problem saying I slept at your house. Fer chrissakes, I'm  twenty-one and
can sleep where I want!" He says that but when I stayed at his  house he
backed-out of having me sleep with him, not that I minded because I'm  like Rob
in that regard. I don't want to walk out of his bedroom and say, 'Hi,  Mrs.

Dickers. Nice day isn't it? Jeez, your son laid a hard fucking on my ass so
if you notice me walking a little funny.....' Nope, I don't wanna do  that.

We need to cross over  into New Hampshire for the Pancake House but it's
still only a twenty-minute  drive. Sunday morning is a prime time for families
to have breakfast at the  Pancake House after church, but this is too early
for that so we get seated  in a booth right away. I sit on the same side of
the booth as Rob. He  gives me a 'look' and I go, "What?" Snorting out a
laugh, he goes, "You're gonna  get a spanking in between me spoiling you. Get
over the other side." I slide out  and slide in the other side smirking.

We're still a little  drunk.

The waitress comes over  with a pot of coffee, asking, "Coffee, boys?" We
nod, mumbling, "Thanks." She  does that and then drops menus on the table,
saying, "When you're ready to order  give me a wave." Her name tag reads,
'Pammy'. When she's gone Rob adds three  sugar packets and lots of cream to his
coffee as I mumble, "Huh, Pammy didn't  say the line, 'I'll be your server
this morning'. I thought that was required  protocol." Rob tastes his coffee
and while adding another sugar packet to his  cup, he mutters, "Who's
Pammy?" I go, "Our waitress," and he's like, "I don't  notice things like that." I
shrug, "You're letting the world pass by without  noticing it, Rob. Did you
see her tattoo?" He grins shaking his head, and I go,  "It's on the side of
her neck in capital letters, 'SUPER BITCH'." Robby  mutters, "Jesus!" then,
"What are you gonna have?"

We each have  coffee, blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and home
fries. As we  eat I keep looking at him until Rob asks, "Do I have a
blueberry on my chin or a  piece of bacon stuck to my lip?" I shake my head, "No, I
just like looking at  you. I can't find a single flaw in your appearance and
guess what?  I  can see a sprinkling of beard as it's just starting to grow
out from when you  shaved yesterday morning before work." He wipes his
mouth with a paper napkin  and I can tell he wants to tell me to stop staring at
him because it's  making him uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable to be
stared at too, but he  can't say that because he told me an hour or so ago
to stop clinging to him and  he's afraid I'll get all pissed-off again. I'm
looking at him expectantly with  my raised eyebrows trying not to grin. He
takes a deep breath and says,  "It's very flattering you like looking at me,"

and then  he self-consciously cuts off a wedge of pancake. I watch him put
it in  his mouth and chew it. I'm grinning now, then say, "I'm glad you chew
with your  mouth closed." He burst out laughing, saying, "I never know what
you're up  to, but whatever it is I don't fucking mind."

I go back to eating for  a minute, then say, "Did I happen to mention to
you that a while back something  just clicked in my brain and now you're my
idol as well as my lover. I hated the  four days you were mostly away. It was
like something extremely important was  missing in my life. I thought about
it all day and concluded it was you." He  laughs, "It took you all day to
conclude that, huh?" I go, "Well, not all day.  It was closer to ten seconds
but I don't want you to get all puffed-up about it  and start taking me for
granted." He pokes his fork at me, "There's no way I'd  ever take you for
granted, Dylan. There's no one in the world like you. You're a  singularity
where boyfriends and lovers are concerned." I go, "I know that. It's  like the
concept of technological singularity where  computer super-intelligence will
abruptly trigger a runaway technological  growth resulting in unfathomable
changes in human civilization. That's what I am  in the world of boyfriends
and lovers. Everyone tells me that." He laughs out  loud as I chuckle at my
own bizarreness.

Done eating as much as  we can. Nobody I know has ever finished that plate
of food from the Pancake  House. The three large pancakes alone are too much
to eat for guys our size,  never mind after we've eaten the scrambled eggs,
potatoes, and bacon. Robby  says, "Let's split the bill." I'm like, "Are
you saying our date's over  already?" He chuckles, "Yes, it was over when we
both fell asleep. If we'd come  to the Pancake House right after dinner and
before falling asleep I'd be  stuck paying for this too, but we didn't." I
shrug, "Oh alright I guess, but  that's a technicality at best." We both leave
two one-dollar-bills for a tip and  split the bill at the cash register.

Feeling very full we're now mostly  concerned about the mild headaches we're
both dealing with. Obviously we do  not have a cigarette that normally we'd
have after eating.

Walking to the pickup I  say, "Ya know, I don't believe I've thanked you
properly for last night's date,  Rob." He goes, "You thanked me for dinner two
or three times and we don't have  dates. We're a couple and we do things
together and sometimes you pay and  sometimes I pay." I go, "Huh." Driving off
the parking lot, he asks, "Don't you  have a headache?" I go,
"Unfortunately I do and I'm just beginning to realize  something that I should have
picked-up on earlier." He mumbles, "What's that?" I  go, "All our silly
conversation this morning is because we're still drunk and  our real hangover is
still ahead of us." He shrugs, "I knew we were still a  little drunk. You mean,
you didn't?" I go, "No, and I should have because not  too long ago the same
thing happened to me."

Rob gets us on route 28  heading toward route 495 into Massachusetts,
saying, "We only got  four-and-a-half-hours sleep. That might have something to
do with it." I'm like,  "Yeah, why'd we get up so fucking early?" He glances
over, "It was you, not  me. That wasn't the smartest thing you've ever
done." I'm like, "Go ahead,  blame everything on me, but I had to piss like a
fucking elephant." Rob  chuckles, "Yeah, me too. Okay, I'll drop you off at
your place and you  need to go back to bed. I'm going to do the same at my
house." And that's what  we do, but only after I remember to take three Advil.

When I wake-up this  time it's because of all the talking coming from the
living room. Looking at my  watch I see it's ten-after-eleven. Picking up the
pillow I try to detect Rob's  scent but can't. Let's see, we got to sleep
around  one-thirty last night and got up at six. I was back in bed before
seven-thirty so that all adds-up to over nine-hours sleep. Plus, it's not like
 we got blasted last night. I should feel better than I do. There's no
major  headache but I'm tired and feeling out-of-sorts, whatever that  means. I
get up and do some stuff in the bathroom and then get dressed in  the
sweatshirt and pants I had on earlier.

Venturing out to the  living room I get a greeting from the Moms and their
hubbies-to-be. Hugs and  kisses plus some pats on the back with corny
greetings like  'sleepy-head gonna sleep all day' and 'our college boy was  doing
some partying, huh?' and dumb shit like that but with smiles and good
cheer. I ask, "Where's Chub?' and everyone laughs and says together,  "Sleeping
of course." I mumble, "I'll get him up. Um, when are we leaving for  the
Hilton buffet?" Rider says, "Well, whenever you three college boys  are ready to
leave. The brunch is in your honor." I go, "Oh, thanks, guys. I'll  round
up Rob and Chub and we'll meet you there at twelve. Does that work?" Bud
says, "Whatever works for you guys," and I say thanks twice more  while getting
my coat on.

Outside I go up to  Chubby's place thinking how the adults all mean well,
and they're all  actually pretty awesome, but I don't know if I'm up for too
much  interaction with adults today. Between Friday night and last night,
I'm a  little worn-down and beat-up. I got nine-hours sleep, interrupted
nine-hours, but after two late nights of partying like a madman I need a  lot
more rest and relaxation. I get Chub up and text Rob to meet us at the  hotel
around noon and then sit at Chub's desk and listen to  him bitch and moan
about some chick he was with last night who turned out to be  twenty-six years
old and bitchy! As he's complaining he's getting undressed from  the
clothes he wore last night and slept in. I get him a bottle of Snapple  and four
Advil. He takes them and goes in the bathroom naked for a  shower.

Chub and I get to the  brunch at twelve-twenty and see Rob sitting in the
lobby. He says, "I  didn't want to join everyone until you guys got here." I
go, "Don't blame ya,"  and Rob asks me, "Are you hungry, Dylan?" I shake my
head, "Not even a little  bit, but they're doing something nice for us so
pretend everything is awesome.  Okay?" Chubby says, "I won't need to pretend
'cause I'm starving. All  I had to eat last night for dinner was popcorn." As
we walk into the  ballroom for the brunch buffet, I ask, "Did you go to the
movies?" He goes,  "Nah, I drove back to meet John Beverly in North Andover
because he was drinking  with these two hot girls. They didn't turn out to
be very hot but John had  promised them dinner so I bought two large bags of
popcorn at Stop and Shop.  They were shredded drunk already so, ya know."

No I  don't know but I'm not sure I want to.

The brunch is good. Rob  and I eat more than we expected. The folks are
fine and only cross-examine us  for the first fifteen-minutes before getting
back to pounding down mimosas,  which are made with Champaign and orange
juice. To be polite us  guys join them for drinks. We get a Bloody Mary each
following the logic of  that hangover remedy, 'the hair of the dog that bit
you'. The first Bloody  Mary didn't work for Chubby and neither did the second
or third. Like  friends will do, Robby and I were keeping Chub company with
drinks one, two  and three so now I've got another little buzz going on.

Fortunately, Rider  is calling our little brunch at an end around two-thirty so
we don't need to go  for a fourth Blood Mary.

Chubby says he's going  back to bed, the Moms and the boyfriends are
meeting some  people for a late afternoon movie and then they're not sure what
they'll be  doing. Robby and I are in his pickup waving goodbye to Chubby who's
driving the Jeep back  to the condos. Robby looks at me, asking, "Do you
wanna do your  haircut first or buy your suit at the mall?" I'd like to join
Chubby and go back  to bed myself, but I say, "Get the shopping done I guess.

We need some of the  vodka to clear-out of our system before doing any
haircutting." Robby  goes, "Yeah, that's the smart thing to do." Then I'm like,
"Remind me  why exactly we need to do my haircut today." Rob looks at me
like I'm crazy,  "For work tomorrow, obviously," and I go, "Oh, that. Yeah,
okay, but your father  probably won't even see me." He goes, "Please stop
bitching about it. We're  doing it." I mumble, "Yes, Daddy."

During the ride to  the mall, Rob asks, "What color suit are you thinking
you'll get? You've got a  blue sports coat." I shrug, "Gray maybe, or tan.

Shit I don't know." All of  our repartee from this morning has given way to
tiredness with a touch of  hangover. Everything we do is like heavy lifting
now. Even the brunch required  an effort to appear upbeat. It was a bit of a
struggle to have a good time.  In the mall parking lot, walking to the
stores, it feels like snow and  that's all I need to totally fuck me up. The mall
is  grotesquely overcrowded with Christmas shoppers. Robby asks, "Brooks
Brothers?" I shake my head, "Nah, they're too expensive. Let's try Macy's."

That's where we go and after finding the Men's Department we begin  looking
at suits on racks. There's only one salesman and he's busy so Rob's  doing
the salesman's job by holding up an ugly suit jacket,  saying, "Try this on,
Dylan. Just for the size; no one would buy this  hideous suit." I try it on
and it fits perfectly. Robby mumbles, "You're a  size 36 either regular or
long." I look at him, "How do you know this stuff?" He  goes, "Christ, Dodger
and I have had like ten suits each over the years. Dad and  mom liked for us
to dress-up for certain occasions. Pain in the ass  actually."

We look through the  suits half-heartedly for fifteen minutes and sort of
agree on a plain  light-gray three-piece suit. Rob gets me in a dressing room
to try it on and  when I come out he goes, "Wow, you look handsome." I'm
wearing sneakers and a  sweatshirt so I feel stupid with a three-piece suit
on. I go, "Really?" Rob nods  and says, "I'll get the sales guy's attention."

As he does that I look at myself  in one of those three-mirror areas where
one mirror is looking directly at you  and on either side of that there are
mirrors on an angle. It's  a cool suit but I'll feel very self-conscious
wearing it. My first suit!  Awww...

The salesman comes  hustling over to say, "Great choice! All the Calvin
Klein suits are $100 off  until Christmas." I give him my debit card and then
look at the price on the  sleeve of the jacket. It's $359.99. Holy shit,
you'd think I'd have checked the  price before buying it. Yeah but is the
$359.99 the price before or  after the $100 off? The salesman turns the little
machine around so I can  key in my pass code and I see the purchase price is
$259.99  and nod my head. I wasn't sure how much suits cost but that seems
like a  lot of money for something I'll hardly ever wear. Robby pats my
shoulder, "Good  buy, babe!" Then I think again about the suit Willie bought me
that cost like  three-thousand-dollars. That makes my head pound so I stop
thinking about it  because I don't know where the fuck that suit is.

The salesman says,  "I'll send Antonio over right away." Looking at Rob,
I'm like, "Who's he  sending?" and he says, "The tailor." I've still got the
three-piece suit on feeling like an idiot as Rob and I  look at sports coats.

Two minutes later a man with a thin piece of  chalk in his hand and a tape
measure dangling from around his neck  comes over and tells me to stand up
straight. I think  that's what he said. He feels the coat and me a few times
in different  places, then makes a chalk mark on the sleeve and takes-in
extra material  on the vest making two chalk marks. Antonio is old, very short,
and he smells  like a cigar. Next he measures from the crotch of the pants,
without  touching my dick, to the side of my foot and makes a little chalk
mark,  then writes something on a tag, asking me, "Coughs?" He has a strong
accent  and again I'm not sure what he said but to be safe I cough. He
gives me a blank look, saying, "Coughs or pain?" What the fuck? Robby says, "Do
you want cuffs, Dylan, or plain bottom on the pants?" I go, "What should I
get?"  He tells the guy, "Plain," and to me, "Cuffs are too, um, too
something.  Too formal I guess." I shrug and go into the dressing room to change.

The man  takes the suit and hands me a receipt saying, "Turd day." I nod and
glance at  Robby who smirks back and says, "You can pick the suit up on
Thursday." I  do another fake cough.

There are millions of  sport coats but they're all pretty much alike. Rob
talks me into a Ralph  Loran tan sport coat with a regular price $299.99 but
sale priced  at $149.99 and then $149.99 black skinny slacks for $79.99. I'm
like,  "Do black and tan go together?" He goes, "Very cool babe." I'm
comfortable buying casual  clothes but not suits and sport coats. Antonio needs
to alter the slacks  and then I can pick everything up on turd day and
meanwhile I'm  out almost $550. I look over and see Robby's holding a cool tan
leather belt while looking at ties now. I take off the coat and pants  and
hand them to Antonio. After putting my winter coat on I join  Rob and he hands
me the belt, "You need this and how about these two ties I've  picked out?"

We decide on two ties for me and two for Robby and take our  purchases to a
register. It's another $65 hit to my debit account but Rob  reminds me I'll
make sixteen-hundred-dollars over the next two weeks. That  makes me feel
better.

Now we're on our  way to Rob's house so I can borrow clothes for work
tomorrow. My blue  blazer and pants are at the twenty-four hour cleaners, which
surprisingly is  open Sundays until Christmas. I'll get those to wear to work
on Tuesday.  Then Rob's sport coat on Wednesday and mine again on Thursday.

 I'll wear my suit or sport coat on Friday and then alternate  again next
week. I'm a fucking clothes horse all of a sudden, and what does a  horse
have to do with clothing?
At Rob's house I'm  happy to see that his mother and father are out and
about. Rob lend me  a cool black sport coat and a pale-blue dress shirt, then
says I can wear  tan khakis with the sport coat. Carrying the stuff on a
hanger we're  walking back to the pickup with Robby asking, "Do you think we
could sneak in a  nap before your haircut?" I go, "Absolutely! I'm so shredded
it's sick! Let me  tell you, I'll be in bed early tonight." Then we talk
about what time  Rob will be over for me Monday morning.

Back in the condo I  hang-up the borrowed clothes. It's almost four o'clock
as Rob and  I share a Coke and then lay on my bed with our clothes on. I
roll up on my  side looking down at Rob whose lying on his back, "Thanks for
your help  with the clothes, Rob," and I lean over to kiss his lips, "I love
you like  crazy, just so you know, Rob." He smiles, murmuring, "Me too,
Dylan." Lying  against Robby's side with me holding his hand we close our eyes.

Oh my God,  the palm of Rob's hand against mine is sexy as hell. Holding
hands is an  extremely underrated affectionate activity... and that's the last
thought I have before crashing into a deep sleep.

A ringing cellphone  wakes me. I'm so groggy though I can't figure out
where the ringing cellphone  is. Oh, it's in my pocket so I take it out and
mumble, "Hello?" It's my  Mom asking if Rob and I  would like to meet them for
dinner at eight o'clock. They're eating at Lee  Chan's. She says, "True
disclosure, sweetheart, your brother already has  declined but we'd love to have
you and Rob join us." I'm like, "Oh,  Mom, I'm too tired and I've  got work
tomorrow." She says, "Honey, you can't burn the candle at both ends  every
night, but I understand college students try to do it anyway. Get  your rest.

I love you, Dylan." I mutter, "Me too Mom." Hitting 'end' I look at the
time:  it's six-thirty so we got another couple hours  of sleep, but do I feel
better? Hmmm, yeah I do but I'm far from energetic.  Glancing over I see
Rob's eyes are open and looking at me. I say, "I just  turned down a free
dinner at the Chinese restaurant on route 9." He goes,  "Lee Chan's?" I nod and
Rob goes, "Good. What time is it?" I tell him and he's  like, "Oh shit! I
gotta call home."

Rob takes my cellphone  and calls home. I hear his part of the
conversation: "No, it's Rob. I'm  using Dylan's cellphone, I wanted..." a pause, "No, I
didn't lose my phone..." a  pause, "Yes, I apologize, I should have called
earlier but I'm calling now.  It doesn't... huh?" another pause, "Oh for
chrissakes, okay! But I'm bringing  Dylan." another pause, "Yeah, okay..." a
pause, "I just said okay, didn't I?  We'll be there by seven." He ends the
calls then looks at me, "We gotta have  Sunday dinner with the folks or the
world will come to an end.  C'mon, get up." Holy shit! First of all, I didn't
know he talked to his  parents like that, but dinner at the Dickers? No
thanks." I go, "Nah, no  way, you go ahead. I just turned down dinner with my
family so it wouldn't  be right having dinner with your family." He says, "Help
me out here, Dylan.  Anyway it's been hours since the brunch so you must be
hungry." I'm shaking my  head with Rob looking very forlorn! Oh balls, I get
this warm feeling in my  heart for him, so I go, "Ah, what the hell. Sure,
Rob, but you owe me  one!"

He grins, "That's my  boyfriend! Thanks, Dylan. We'll do your haircut after
dinner." I go, "Yeah,  whatever, but I'm telling you I don't even want to
look at an alcoholic  beverage." He goes, "No problem. We're good." In the
bathroom we clean-up  and then leave for Rob's house wearing the same
sweatshirt and pants we've  had on all day. Robby's carrying his clothes from last
night under his arm.  During the drive to his house, he says, "Can you like
pat your hair down or  something? After I shampooed the hell out of it your
hair looks bigger than  ever." I go, "Fuck my hair! I'm coming with you to
dinner; be satisfied with  that." After saying that I try patting my hair flat
on top but it's  extra wavy and full of body. Actually I'll be happy to say
goodbye to  some of this hair later tonight. Long hair is a bit of a
pain-in- the-ass and  yet I see some guys with old fashioned eighties hairdos that
look like  a woman's hairdo and the guys apparently think it looks cool  or
good or something. I don't get it!
Robby parks in his  parent's driveway, turns off the engine and turns to
look at me. "I  appreciate this, Dylan. It's like I was supposed to check in
at five-thirty about  dinner so I was a an hour late. With you here I can
avoid  a shouting match, which I'm definitely not up for. We'll eat and get
out as soon as possible." I nod and we walk in the back door that leads to the
 kitchen. Mrs. Dickers is putting green beans in a pot of water on the
stove. Mr.  Dickers is making cocktails. They both say, "Hi, boys," then Mrs.

Dickers adds,  "Glad you could join us, Dylan." Mr. Dickers does like a double
take when  he glanced at me, then asks, "Can I make you boys an Old
Fashion?" Rob  says, "No thanks, dad, we're..." and his Dad goes, "Nonsense. Join
your Mom and  me for a cocktail before dinner." Rob makes a face looking at
me and I  take him off the hook, saying, "That sounds great, Mr. Dickers,
thank you." He  says, "Good," and makes two more Old Fashions. I watch him put
some bitters in  two low squat glasses, then add sugar and a squeeze of
fresh orange  juice. He pours in about two ounces of bourbon  for each glass and
stirs it. Next a lot of ice and then  thankfully about two ounces of water.

Stirring all the cocktails again he  passes them out and we adjourn to the
family room where Mr. Dickers says, "So I  hear you're working for Rob the
next two weeks, Dylan. Glad to have your help."  I nod, "Thanks," and Rob
says, "I've got his schedule planned out, Dad." They  discuss that as I take a
sip of my cocktail. It's  fucking strong!
After a while Mrs.  Dickers needs to go in the kitchen to make gravy, I
think that's what  she said. Rob's Father finishes his drink before mine is a
third done. He says, "I'll freshen-up our drinks. Help me out, Rob." Rob
exhales  noisily and then follows his Dad into the kitchen. I'm contemplating
spilling  some of my Old Fashion in a potted plant when, from the kitchen, I
hear Robby  say, "I just told you I'm giving him a haircut after dinner,
Dad! Jesus!!"  His Father murmurs something and Rob goes, "I know that!" I
never knew Rob  talked back to his parents this way. No one gets too excited
about it so it's  probably a normal routine for them. Mostly I'm fuming that
his  Father said something about my hair! Rob and his  Dad come back with
fresh drinks and Rob has a juice glass with Old Fashion  mixture in it that he
pours into my drink with a look on his face like he's  really sorry. For
spite I swallow two big mouthfuls of Old Fashion and feel the  room spin a
little. No alcohol will pass through my mouth all week after  this!
The dinner is roast  pork with browned small potatoes, gravy, green beans,
apple sauce, and that's  it. Happily, there's no especially uncomfortable or
awkward dinner  conversation. They talk about Christmas and how Rob's
Grandparents will spend Christmas Eve with  them and then leave the day after
Christmas. They talk about having turkey  for Christmas dinner instead of their
traditional prime-rib roast. This  year they'll have prime-rib on New
Year's day. YAWN! They talk about the  Christmas bonuses they're giving certain
employees and they talk about this and  that, but what they don't talk about
is Dodger and that pisses me off royally,  but I'm not feeling spunky enough
to challenge them about it.

We get to leave pretty  quickly after forcing chocolate caked and a scoop
of coffee ice cream down  for dessert. His parents are very cordial to me as
we're  leaving, and then we're out in the cold fresh air and it's marvelous.

In  the pickup, as Rob backs out of the driveway, I'm like, "I don't
appreciate your  Dad discussing my hair  with you in the kitchen." He cringes, "I
was hoping you wouldn't hear  that, Dylan. He can't help himself with
details like that." I mutter, "Well it  still sucks," and Rob says, "I think it
sucks too and, hell, I need to put up  with it all the fucking time. I've
gotten so it rolls off my back, but  since we were doing your haircut anyway I
told him about it  to shut him up." I nod, "Yeah, it's just annoying your Dad
feels he can tell me when to get a  haircut when my parents would never
even think to do that."  Rob mutters, "Sorry about that, Dylan. Really!" Wow
though, I'm still  shocked Rob is so contentious with his Dad. That must be
relatively new I  would think.

Back at my condo we go  in through the garage and Rob says, "Well, you need
to get the barber stuff. I  guess I'll do your haircut down here. And
speaking of that, I've been  giving it some thought so I have an idea how I'll
cut it." Not paying a lot  of attention, I go, "We really didn't need the two
Old Fashions." He  says, "Dylan, please don't be like this, let it go. I'm
really sorry, but can we  chill out a little." Yeah, why am I being grumpy to
Rob? I mumble, "Sorry  but I'm a little wired." Rob says, "Hey, we're not
in any particular rush,  right? Let's take our  time and maybe lie down for a
half hour and try to recoup the wonderful  closeness we were feeling for
most of the last twenty-four hours." Nodding my  head, "Yes, you're so right.

I'd like that."

He puts his hand  on the back of my neck, murmuring, "Let me take care of
everything, okay?  We'll go upstairs and you relax and let me worry about
things," and he starts us  walking toward the stairs, adding, "We'll lie down
together and chill-out for a  little bit. That dinner got both of us on
edge," and he pulls my head over  to kiss the side of my forehead. Yeah, this is
better and I put my arm  around his waist. He takes his hand away from the
back of my neck and hangs his  arm over my shoulders and we go upstairs like
that. In my bedroom we lie  down on the bed face to face with me feeling
better now that Rob wants to  cuddle a little. Hee hee, and I like putting
myself in his hands. We kiss a few  times and then Robby gets his arms around me
and pulls me against him, the side of my forehead is  on his shoulder. He
murmurs, "We'll just  be with each other for a while and put all other
thoughts out of our minds," and  he gives me a tight hug. I'm a sucker for things
like this. I like being taken  care of and I like when Rob feel he needs to
take charge of a situation. We were  beginning to snap at one another and
now we're not.

Neither  of us say anything  and we both doze off. I wake-up with Robby
lightly pushes the  hair over to the side of my forehead and away from my
eyes,  as he murmurs, "What time is it, babe?" I look at my  wristwatch and say,
"Ten-after-nine." Holy shit we've been lying here  over an hour. Rob says,
"Wow!  I better do your haircut and then we  can both get to bed a little
after ten." As we get off the bed he says, "We've  rested and napped so much
today we probably won't fall asleep tonight." I say,  "I'm pretty sure I
won't have a problem with that tonight."  He goes, "Get the barber stuff,
there's no more putting it off." I look at the  mirror over the bureau and say.

"Hey, I've got an idea, Rob. Do  my haircut here and I can watch in this
mirror and give you helpful  suggestions." He shrugs, "Sure," and he helps push
the big throw rug to the  side so the cut hairs will be on the hardwood floor
and easy to sweep  up.

Sitting in the desk  chair I'm too low. It's one of those chairs though
that you can crank  higher which Robby does and when I sit down now I can see
myself in the  mirror from my shoulders up. Rob goes, "That's good, huh?" I
nod and get up  to take everything out of the barber toiletry kit and arrange
it on  the bureau top. Rob picks up thinning shears, asking, "What's this
funny looking scissor used for?" I explain, "It's used to thin-out  thick
hair. See the space in between each eighth-inch-wide blade.  Closing those
scissors cuts only half the hairs. The spaces don't cut  anything. Usually
they're used by combing up a batch of hair and  closing the thinning scissors a
third of the way up and then  closes the scissors  again about
three-quarters of the way up.  Sometimes with really thick  or unruly hair the barber
will do three cuts on each batch of hair.  That'll really thin it out and
shorten it at the same  time."

Robby frowns saying,  "Well fuck, these are exactly what I need then. I'll
use these on your  thick hair doing what you said, closing the scissors
three times from the  bottom to the top of each batch of hair. Awesome!" I
shrug, saying,  "The thinning scissors cut a lot of hair, but on the plus side
it's not  a blunt cut. It tapers the batch of hair you're working with
because it cuts the hairs at different lengths as you move the scissors up  the
same batch of hair." He closes the scissors a few times, mumbling,  "These are
perfect." I go, "Yeah, just remember the first  cut eliminates half the
hair and the second cut further up cuts half  the remaining hairs and so on.

That's according to a video I watched like a year  ago. I don't think I've
ever used those thinning scissors. During the  demonstration the cut hairs will
come off in  a scrambled bunch instead of a clean cut. It looks as though
twice as  much hair was cut than actually got cut. Like I said I can't recall
 I've ever used them but I did watch that tutorial video." Rob goes, "Your
hair  is very thick all over so I'm using these things a lot." We're
standing here  as he combs through my hair needing to put a little effort getting
it  through my long wavy hair.

I take the comb from  Rob and run it from front to back on top of my head
and say, "Huh, I guess those  thinning scissors are the first thing to use,
Rob." He goes, "Yeah, and I  probably can't get in much trouble using these
half-cutting scissors." I  ask, "Yeah I guess, but what's your general plan
for this haircut of mine."  He goes, "First take off your shirt and have a
seat and we'll talk a little  about it." I do that thinking how Rob is acting
a little bit  in-charge here tonight and I kinda like that. As soon as I sit
down I get  the familiar excited-scary-submissive feeling like always when
I'm about to get a haircut. It's weird but I have no control over it... it
just is. Rob's combing through my hair again. To me he's now in  a dominant
position as I believe any barber is, and I'm  definitely in the submissive
position sitting here allowing the barber, in  this case an inexperienced
Rob, to cut my hair. Most people don't see it  this way, but I do.

Robby's saying, "I  was thinking about this just a little while ago and
decided I need to exert  some of my head-of-the-household responsibilities and,
even if it hurts your  feelings, I gotta tell you that this long hair of
your's doesn't  look good on you at all. I'm sorry to say that but I feel I
need to tell  you that as your friend, boyfriend, and lover. Now, that's not
to  imply you need one of those really short haircuts you're famous for. I
don't  like those either."  Gee, I like Robby's little lecture. Anyway I've
been  thinking about my long hair and how there have been mixed reviews  about
it, some good and some not so good. While I like it okay it is a bit of a
pain-in-my-ass at times, so I go, "Yeah, it is too long, Rob, I agree  with
you."

No hair has been cut  from the top of my head since August-twelfth when
Ryan gave me his last  haircut. Hell, the hair on the sides of my head were
long enough to cover  my ears until Golden cut them. Rob stands slightly behind
me and combs the hair  on the side of my head down shaking his head
slightly, saying, "I'll do a  haircut that I think you look best with, and this
surely isn't it. Do you  agree?" Oh my, I get a pleasant buzzing in my balls as
my partial submissive  sense deepens. I truly love how this feels. The
worst thing that can  happen is he fucks up the haircut so much I end-up with a
buzz-cut which isn't  all that bad. I don't expect that to happen anyway.

"Yes, Rob, I'm  sensing you taking charge so I'll trust your judgement. Um,
but ask me  is you're not sure how to do something." He goes, "Sure, but like
you've  said I'll be your barber from now on so I need to step-up and do it
with some  confidence."

He has one hand on my  bare shoulder as he combs down through the hairs at
the back of my head  where it ends abruptly at the blocked-off shaved line
across my  neck. Rob's saying, "I know you don't like this squared-off back,
right?" I  go, "I hate the look; it just comes to an abrupt blunt block of
hair." Robby  goes, "Well the thinning scissors should help with that, don't
ya think?" Damn,  that's a good idea and one I hadn't thought of. "I go, "To
be honest I hadn't  thought of that, but yes, good idea." Standing  behind
me he pushes my head forward, murmuring, "Keep your head like that," and
now I'm off to the races feeling my haircut fetish mingling with the
submissive  sense I always feel in a barber chair. And now with Robby being the
barber everything is intensified. Like I said, it's scary but  sexually arousing
and pleasant for me at the same time.

Robby's combing up  hairs above the shaved neck area and closing the
thinning scissors over and  over. My dry cut hairs drift down my back and give me
a sexy chill. There's  little chance he can screw that up any worse than it
already is. At first  Rob was just combing up hairs above the shaved area
but now he's combing up  hairs and closing the thinning scissors all the way
up the back of my head,  doing it over and over again. For three or four
minutes a constant drift of  cut hairs slides down my back with most of the cut
hair is clogging-up the comb  and scissors. My hair was very long in back so
every other time he goes up the  back of my head he need to use his fingers
removing the hair that's clogged  the teeth of the comb and thinning
scissors.

As he  continues closing the thinning scissors over and over I keep  my
chin pressed against my chest. He finally stops and combs through the hairs
left back there and says, "Oh fuck, I'll need to use the  clippers on the back
now. It didn't come out as even as I expected it to. The  more I used these
goofy scissors the more uneven it got." Huh,  so much for, 'I can't get in
much trouble with these  thinning scissors'. He mumbles, "This is gonna be a
lot shorted  haircut than I planned for you, but it'll still look good,"

and he  ruffles the long hair on top of my head, saying, "Anyway I like  you
with short hair, baby. Hope you don't mind this change of plans but  this was
your idea." I'm quivering in my haircut fetish, loving  how I feel. My cock
is hard and I can't possibly tell Rob to stop because it all  feels too
fucking good.

Surprisingly Rob  doesn't seem flustered at all that his very first effort
is fucked-up. He's  very blasé as he fiddles with guides for the clippers,
then  mutters, "I'll try the three-quarter-inch guide first." I'm looking at
him  nodding my head, then manage to say, "You're the barber, Rob." He goes,
"It's  all coming back to me, Dylan. You know, from when I was giving you
haircuts  freshman year." I mutter,  "Oh, good." The clippers get turned-on
and my cock gets harder as  Rob pushes my head forward again, "Stay like
that. I don't want to need  to push your head forward every time I stop for a
few  seconds."

Robby does everything  the opposite of Ryan, who was always too quick with
his hair cutting. Rob  is very methodical running the clippers slowly up the
back of my head. I  can plainly hear the hairs being cut. It's a sexy sound
to me.  He cuts the entire area from behind one ear to the other and from
the  bottom hairline to the top of my head. Now, holding the buzzing clippers
to the  side, Rob rubs down the back of my head with his hand, mumbling,
"Dammit,"  and then, without explaining, he changes to a half-inch guide and
goes  over the same area as I hear all the same hairs being cut off again a
quarter-inch shorter.

He does that for a few  minutes and, again without any explanation, he
changes to a quarter inch  guide but only uses it half the way up the back
muttering, "Better," then  gets regular barber scissors and starts combing up
hairs on the back of my  head and cutting. This goes on for another five
minutes of slowly combing  up what must be very short hair and closing the
scissors cutting it shorter. I'm  deep in a dreamy trance trying to concentrate on
his barbering so I don't miss  anything. My cock is very hard and I expect
leakage any second  now.

He's finally done with  the scissors and goes back to using the clippers
with smaller and smaller guides  until he's using bare clippers without a
guide at all, but only  very low-down on the back of my head. I have no idea
what to  expect. I don't really care what it looks like while the haircut  is
going on, but afterwards it's an entirely different story and I'll care a lot
 if it's totally fucked-up, but of course then it'll be too late to do
anything about it.

Rob finally turns off  the clippers and says encouraging words, "Not bad if
I do say so myself. Do you  wanna see, Dylan?" Him saying that reduces my
trance by fifty percent, but I  like his optimism.  I lose another twenty
percent of my  submissive/fetish trance when I say, "Yeah, sure I'd like to see
it, Rob."  He holds the handheld mirror behind my head and I look at the
refection off  the mirror over the bureau. It's a little shocking at first.

He's cut  all the hairs on the back of my head to no longer than a half-inch
and  when compared to the bulk of hair on both sides of my head it's
startling to see. I gotta admit though he did a  reasonable facsimile of a tapered
cut along the shaved  line and almost eliminated it completely. It's not
totally even, but  it's not horrible either. Too short by quite a bit and
that's a shame  because now the sides will need to be equally short or it'll look
ridiculous. So  it's not turning-out real good for me, but not as bad as it
might  have been. To sound encouraging, I mumble, "Nice job, Rob..." He
says, "I  know it's shorter than even I planned for, but don't ya think it
looks  better than before?" No, not really, but I say, "Absolutely," and he
goes,  "Damn, so it turned out good, but how long did it take me?" Well it  was
at least fifteen minutes, but I go, "Don't worry about how long it  takes,
Rob. Take your time."

Like  most amateur barbers though, Rob can't leave well enough alone,
saying, "I'm going to try evening it out a little better," and he goes back to
changing guide sizes for the clippers as he cuts at the back of my head for
another five minutes. When he finally stops he doesn't offer me the chance
to  see what he's done. He merely goes, "It's more even now, but I had to
finally take more of it down to a quarter-inch in length." That's burr
haircut length but he offers no apologies or regrets.  Instead he says, "So I
might as well start cutting with the quarter-inch  guide for the sides too."

Grinning, he pats my bare shoulder, saying,  "Don't look so glum, it'll be
fine. Anyway I'm the one who sees you all the  time. Now I'll be able to see a
haircut I like on you. While you only look  at yourself two or three times a
day." Another pat and he leans down kissing the  side of my forehead. I
reach up and rub the back of his head, saying, "It's  fine, Rob, really." He
goes, "You're awesome, that's what you  are."

I'm trying to act  normal for Rob while in actuality my face feels hot
because I'm  so fucking aroused by my fetish it's insane and I'm right on the
verge  of climaxing as I grunt, "Um, but first, Robby, would it be okay if we
take a break for a couple of minutes?" He says, "Not right now, baby, I'm
into  this and don't want to stop while I'm hot. Wait until I do the sides
and  then we'll take a break," and he starts to runs the clippers up the  left
side of my head but before it gets up very far I abruptly stand up,
saying, "I'm sorry, but I need a fucking break!" Stepping back, he goes,  "Jesus!"

He turns the clippers  turn off, "Why'd you do that?" I shake my head, "I
don't know exactly. I'm  wired-up a little bit too tightly right now, Rob. I
mean, fuck!" He frowns, not  understanding my haircut fetish. Fortunately,
my cock's hard enough to  be up against my belly and not poking out the front
of my sweatpants. Rob looks  very confused, so I explain a little, "Ha, I
know it's kinda weird,  Rob, but it's arousing me sexually having you giving
me a haircut. You know how  into you I am, and so..." He nods his head, "Oh,
okay. I guess I'm  flattered again." I say, "Uh huh, sure. You don't
realize how much all your  touching while doing my haircut is, um, affecting me."

We're both standing  and he's got a comb absently running through the hair
on the side of  my head as he quietly says, "That's a relief to hear. I was
afraid you were  pissed-off or something." Fetish tendencies have reduced
greatly so I don't  need to explain any more than I already have. Even though
it's out  of my control I'm kind of embarrassed that I have this goofy
fetish.

Rob puts the comb down  and says, "Just so you know, I didn't plan this to
look like Golden's haircuts but it's where we find ourselves I'm  afraid."

I go, "Not necessarily," and he brightens, asking, "Do you have an  idea?" I
go, "Not yet, but let me check out what we're dealing with." He
reluctantly hands me the mirror as I go, "And Rob, let me reassure you I'm  happy
you're sticking with this. You'll get better and better at it so don't get  down
on yourself." He goes, "I'm not down on myself, Dylan. I have to tell  you,
even though this is turning out to be a much shorter haircut that I
envisioned for you, I still gotta say it looks better on you than that long
unruly hair you had when I started." I don't agree but I'm like, "Okay, but
maybe it doesn't need to end-up looking like one of Golden's  haircuts."

My cock  has loosening up entirely now that we're talking and  he's stopped
cutting. I look at the back of my head through the  reflection off the
handheld mirror to the bureau mirror. The  little tapering at the shaved neck
line is still in place and  looking pretty fucking good." I say, "Jeez, Rob,
really good job of  tapering the hairline! Nice!" He nods, "Thanks. I thought
so too. Us  working together like this is a really good thing and I feel
good about it."  Yeah, whatever. Okay, the rest of the hair from the tapering
is basically  buzz-cut or burr-cut length. I lower the mirror and go, "Wow,
I'm  impressed. It's way too fuckin' short but done well." He nods again,
"Yeah, I agree and I know it's too short so you don't need to rub it in. Next
 time I do your haircut it won't be too short in back." Ooooh, he's
sticking  up for himself now. Nice!
I go, "Well it doesn't  need to be a Golden assembly-line-haircut. You're
right about using the  quarter-inch guide on the clippers for the sides. The
thing is  though you don't want to take the clippers all the way up the
sides like Golden does. Stop an inch or so before the top and do the taping
like you did so well in the back." Encouraging comments at this point seem
like the way to go. Rob nods and says, "I understand, no problem." I add, "And
 we'll leave more of the hair on top for now. Don't ya think?" He makes a
face, "What? That's the whole point of what I've been telling  you. It's too
long on top. I've been telling you that all along." I  say, "Yeah, I agree.

I'm just saying I'd like more hair on top than  say you've got." He says,
"Well I'd have liked more hair on top too, but  you cut it this short," and
he pulls up some one-and-a-half-inch hair on top of  his head. I'm like, "Oh
c'mon Rob, I had to do your's like that because of  that asshole Hispanic
guy who intentionally fucked-up your hair." He goes,  "Jesus, I keep
forgetting that. Guess he didn't like a gringo on his turf."  I mutter, "I guess not,
as stupid as that is. And I'm still throwing a rock  through that
fuck-head's window." Rob goes, "Don't do that, Dylan, you'll get in  trouble." I wave
at him, then say, "Well, shall we continue?" and I sit  down with mixed
emotions. On the one hand my fetish is getting a wild ride but  on the other I
liked my longer hair on the sides. Just not as long as it was,  but I guess
that's life.

>From the  bureau mirror I watch Robby's combing the hair on top and the
sides forward and then making a part about an inch below the top on  each
side, saying, "I'll just run the clippers as far as the part and do  a taper the
last inch or so like you said." Huh, I'm impressed he  figured out that way
of going about it. I say, "That's smart." Then  for the next five minutes
my haircut fetish buzzes loudly as thick clumps  of hair fall away from the
sides of my head. Robby runs  the clippers tight against my scalp over and
over again cutting the hairs down  to a quarter-inch. I love the sensations it
creates all around my  groin and especially my throbbing cock that quickly
became a boner  again. I'm on the verge of orgasm as big piles of wavy blond
hair  are falling away from my head all around me; the buzzing clippers
have  no mercy. Robby doesn't either ha ha, but I'm impressed with the
unhesitant  manner he's going about this. It's a thrill for my fetish while it's
happening, and then when it's over I'll be disappointed my hair is this short
again. It's not something I'm unfamiliar with  however.

When Rob stops running  the clippers on both sides of my head it very even
and hell, it looks good.  I think short hair always looks good. Golden,
during the almost  non-haircut he gave me, did do a nice job outlining around my
ears  with the trimming clippers and now with this burr-length hair on the
sides  of my head the outline shows up prominently. Without commenting
about the short hair on the sides Rob's using the clippers with various  size
guides to try tapering hairs the rest of the way up the sides and  again he
does a damn good job of it. This bodes well for me in the  future since Rob's
doing much better with haircutting than he did as a  freshman. Finished, he
steps back and nods his head, saying "Yeah,  it's short, Dylan, but I prefer
your hair this way and now the sides  blend with the back. Whaddaya think?"

I use the handheld mirror to  again looking all around checking the
reflection from the bureau  mirror. It's not perfect but it's pretty damn good. Way
shorter than I wanted  but I'm not mentioning that again after he snapped
at me for mentioning it  last time.

I finally say, "Really  good, Rob. You did okay." He goes, "Yeah? Thanks,
Dylan! Okay, but now the  top needs a lot of work." Putting the clippers
down, he picks up a comb and  the thinning scissors again. He combs my thick
long bangs down on my  forehead. I want to talk about this but Rob doesn't give
me a chance. I need  to close my eyes because the ends of the hairs he's
combed down my  forehead are right at my lower eyelid. I want to say, 'not
too short, Rob' but I can't form the words.  He deliberately combs through the
bangs again, saying, "I'm going to  majorly thin your bangs, baby. I'm
becoming attached to these awesome thinning  scissors again." I could tell him I
don't want it too short right now  except my cock slowly moves along my
belly as it continues getting harder and  feels so good I need to stifle a
moan.

Rob combs through my  bangs a third time pulling them down against my
forehead and then  he puts the bottom piece of the thinning scissor under half
the bangs  closest to him then combs the rest of my bangs the side of  my
forehead to deal with after he does the first half. With  the comb following the
scissors' he closes the fucking things  too close to my  hairline and
there's a "Scrunch," sound as the scissors cut  through half of all that dry
hair. Moving the scissors down a little  he closes the scissors again, and,
"Scrunch," with lots of long hairs  now drifting off my nose and chin, and right
away he does a third cut about  eyebrow level, "Scrunch," and then near the
bottom, "Scrunch,  scrunch." It was done quickly though, "Scrunch, scrunch,
scrunch," then,  "Scrunch, scrunch." As the comb runs through the end of my
bangs I open my  eyes and see there's only about one-quarter the bulk
that's on the half he  hasn't gotten to yet. Only a few strains of the cut bangs
reach my  eyebrows with the majority of hairs only reaching halfway down my
forehead.  Rob mutters, "These thinning scissors kick ass!"

I'm gawking at the comb  and thinning scissors; both have big tangled wads
of my cut blond hair  in their teeth. Rob uses his finger pulling the hairs
from first the comb  and then the thinning  scissors and drops both big
batches of my hair on my lap. He combs through  what's left of my bangs and the
comb gets another smaller wad of cut hairs as  other cut hairs drift down my
face. He nods his head like he approves  without seeming the least bit
perturbed that most of  the bangs halfway across my forehead have been cut off.

It happened so fast  and with four quick 'Scrunches' of the scissors. I'm
looking in the mirror  hardly believing how little hair is left laying limply
on my forehead. He says,  "Lean your head towards me a little, babe, so I
can get the other half." In a  trance I do that and he combs the hair down and
it's, "Scrunch, scrunch,  scrunch," then to finish off a final, "Scrunch,
scrunch". Same result. He  absently pulls the pile of cut hairs from the
teeth of the scissors and comb  again and this time casually drops the big
clumps off hair on the  floor. Combing through the pitiful hairs left and
dislodging more cut hairs that drift  down my face. Rob rubs his fingers on my face
brushing cut  hairs off my nose, cheek and chin. He goes, "Jesus, it's
gonna take  me a while doing all the hair on the top of your head like  this,
but ya know what? I don't mind because I'm enjoying the  hell out of this."

I'm stunned but my haircut fetish is at such a high  fever pitch I'd rather
grovel in it than tell Rob he cut too much off. It's a  miracle I haven't cum
in my pants yet!
He gets the regular  scissors, saying, "But first there's more work to do
with these bangs  of yours," and without hesitating he cuts through the hair
going  all the way across my forehead, "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch," leaving
about  an inch-and-a-half of thin wimpy bangs. The thinning scissors thinned
out  the bangs that remain so they're tampered and not a blunt as they
would be if the hairs were all the same length. Combing what's left of the
bangs  to the side, he grins saying, "Awesome, the hairs stay combed over.  This
is a good length for your front hairs." I gulp and again I'm positive I'm
going to cum in my pants, but again it's a false alarm. Rob combs the bangs
down  again, then combs it over to the side again, saying, "No more hairs in
your eyes  now, baby," and he smiles, adding, "As your personal barber
I'll be maintaining your hair at approximately this length going forward." I
manage to mutter, "Um, maybe not quite this short." He pats  my shoulder,
"Let me worry about that, okay? I'm the barber  here."

Satisfied with my bangs  Rob gets the thinning scissors again and combs up
the hair on top just  behind the front hair he's almost eliminated. The
comb's pulled up a big  thick group of blond wavy hair that's about five inches
long. Rob  mutters, "Your hair is twice as thick as mine. I don't know how
I'd handle all  this hair without these thinning scissors." Combing up the
same batch of hair a  second time, Rob taps my shoulder with the back of his
hand he's  holding the thinning scissors in, saying, "Hey, Dylan, you know
that  dominant thing you talk about? Well I think I feel it. Being your
barber, I  mean. It's so, um, I don't know, but I think I'm being dominant. It's
kind of  weird, but do you know what I mean?" I mumble, "I know exactly what
you  mean."

He combs up through the  same batch of hair a third time and then it's,
"Scrunch, Scrunch,  Scrunch," and the multiple cuts with the thinning scissors
on the same  batch of hair has reduced the volume by three-quarters. Like
before, mostly  the cuts hairs are stuck in the comb and the teeth of the
thinning  scissors. Robby says nothing as he again uses his fingers pulling out
large batches of clean blond wavy hair from the scissors, then  from the
comb and drops the hair in my lap grinning at me, seemingly  pleased with how
it's going. It's a big tangled pile of hair that I pick up and  look at with
my fetish buzzing in my brain so loudly I'm surprised Rob  can't hear it.

He combs through the  batch of hair he just cut and the comb slides through
it easily  now. The longest hairs left in that thinned-out batch are now
two-inches-long. He mumbles, "That's cool," then to me, "I'm gonna  need to
be cutting a lot off the top so it matches with the short hair on  the sides
and back." His confidence level is a bigger surprise to me than how  short
this haircut is turning out to be. I really like when he's confident like
this though. That in-and-of-itself is a real rush for me. Of course there's  a
stark difference between that first batch of hair he  just thinned-out and
cut short as compared to the rest of the hair on  top of my head. He combs
the two barbered section of hair forward and the bangs  blend with the first
batch. Rob frowns though looking at  the wimpy bangs. Nodding his head, he
changes to  regular barber scissors and again cuts a straight line  across my
forehead through what remains of my bangs reducing  the longest hairs now
to an inch-and-a-quarter. The short bangs totally go  with the first batch of
hair he thinned out on top, but when he combs  them over to the side again
he mutters to himself, "Looking good,  but..."

Looking  at myself in the mirror, I wait a few seconds, then say, "But
what,  Rob?" Rob goes, "I guess I'm a perfectionist, but the bangs bunch at the
side when I comb the hairs over, see?" I shrug, "It's okay." He shakes his
head,  "No, it's not okay," and he grins, saying, "Hey, babe, you know I'm a
 pain-in-the-ass perfectionist about everything I do. If I cut the bangs
on an angle though," and without finishing his explanation, he uses  regular
scissors again to cut my bangs even shorter and on an angle so  that near
the right side of my forehead the bangs are only a half inch  long. Combing
the hairs over he says, "There, see? That better because they  just naturally
lie together now." Jeez, Rob's really feeling  cocky now. And he has shown
some insight during this haircut. I think he has  some aptitude for
haircutting. During freshman year I told him what to do while  now he's seems to be
vitalizing things on his own. Next time he'll know how  to do a little longer
version of this haircut and in time I'm optimistic  Rob will be a good
barber for me. It'd be a relief to finally nail  down who's my barber and how my
 haircuts will look going forward.

Satisfied he has the  bangs the way he wants them Rob pats my shoulder,
saying, "Don't have a  bird but as you can see from that first batch I cut on
top, I'm gonna be cutting  all the hair on top quite short. I'll obviously
continue thinning  it out a lot." I must look scared because he chuckles and
rubs my head, saying,  "You better get used to it, baby, I'm your barber
now," and he squeezes the back  of my neck and jostles my head around a little
giving me chills and making me do  a little grin, murmuring, "Ha, okay, Rob."

It's like his words and how he said them,  plus him jostling me a little
bit, makes me feel that goofy submissive  sense. It's one of those times when
I feel like a little kid again and much  younger than Rob. It's a temporary
good feeling of being well taken care of, and  yes I'm aware of how dorky
that sounds but I love feeling this way. I  grin at him shyly and he smiles
back at me, murmuring, "You said I need to  take care of you, so I'm doing
that." My cock throbs. This  is ultra-cool and sexy hot!
Combing up the hairs a  little further back on top, he says, "Look how long
that hair is, babe.  Jeez, why'd you let it get so long?" Huh, he's the one
responsible for me  missing haircuts with Golden and he didn't want me to
go to another  barber. I've hardly said a word, so grinning, he asks, "Do you
like  the way your bangs turned out? You just comb them over and they stay
perfectly  in place." I stare at him so he says, "Look in the mirror." I do
that and he combs my bangs down, "See how I cut them on an angle? I  did it
because, well look," and he combs them over, adding, "They stay in  place
with no bunching at the end." I lick my lips, feeling so aroused  it's sick.

Nodding my head, I say, "You're doing great, Robby. I'm  gonna keep
watching you and learn something." He laughs, "I'm doing okay but I  doubt you'll
learn anything."

Combing up another  batch of five-inch-long hair he uses the thinning
scissors starting  close to my scalp, which might be a mistake. He closes the
thinning scissors  four times working his way up the batch of hair, "Scrunch,
scrunch, scrunch,  scrunch." From thick five-inch-long hair the thinning
leaves a thin batch of  hair in its wake with most of the  remaining hairs not
even two inches long, which is just like the first  batch he combed up.

Consistent! He combs through the hair and now the comb  and the teeth of the
scissors are clogged with a big bundle of  cut hairs of different lengths. As he
pulls the bunches of hair off the  comb's teeth and scissors for like the
tenth time, he says, "That's very  thick hair, boyfriend,"  and he shows me
the handful of my hair he just took from the teeth of the  scissor and comb,
"Look at this! It was all on your head," and he drops it  on my lap with the
other tangled batches.

No talking now as another batch of hair gets  reduced by seventy-five
percent or more. Unclogging the comb and scissors  he goes, "These thinning
scissor are invaluable." Then he does the same four  cuts for each new batch of
five-inch hair going to the back of my  head. I stare in the mirror
fascinated as my cock throbs. For five or  six-minutes he combs up hair and closes
the thinning scissors once, twice, three  times, and the fourth time near the
top. Every time he combs  through the just cut hairs the longest hairs left
are  consistently barely two inches long. If he combs up a bigger than
normal batch of hair, he does a couple of extra cuts leaving the combed-up
batches standing-up on their own in their shortness. I can't  believe the amount
of hair all around me on the floor and in my lap. Rob  says, "I should
charge you, Dylan. This is hard work," and he continues  cutting, going back
over everything without hesitation as if he  actually knows what he's doing,
which he doesn't.

Finally, he stops  and combs through the not only short but very
thinned-out hair on  top of my head coming away with another comb-full of cut hairs.

He  shakes his head and combs back through my hair again getting another
batch  of different-lengths cut hairs in the teeth of the comb. Because there
are hairs of different length surrounding by barely longer hairs they  all
stand up when he combs back through them. Rob goes, "This is working
perfectly. See how easily the comb goes back through your hair now? Here  you try
it," and he passes me the comb. I dutifully run the comb back through my  hair
and there's no resistance at all. "Isn't this a lot better, babe?" I  nod,
"Yes it is, Rob." As I tell him that, I again feel like a little kid.  He
says, "I'll even off the top hairs now with regular scissors, or should I use
the clippers, Dylan?" I shrug, "Um, either one you want Rob." He sucks on
his  bottom lip thinking, then says, "I'll use scissors. Clippers have a way
of  getting me in trouble." He combs the hairs up and cuts the hairs
sticking above  the comb and does that to the back of my head, then does it again
taking another  quarter inch off. Now the skimpy longer hairs  are
one-and-a-half-inches-long, the same length I had to cut his hair...  hmmmm. Most of
the hair on top of my head are actually shorter than  that. That's how the
thinning scissors do things. Robby over-used them seemingly  enjoying himself.

He steps back and  studies my hair as I look at it in the mirror, not
thinking about anything  except my pulsing cock. Rob combs back through my hair
again and says, "I'm  thinking we almost have a flattop here. If I took
another say half-inch off the  top, keeping it even, you'd have a damn cool
flattop." Then he looks at my eyes  in the mirror, and says, "We should probably
wait till the summer for that  though, don'cha think?" I nod my head almost
wanting to tell him to do it. Some  of the hairs were cut to a half inch
with the thinning scissors when he closed  them too close to my scalp. They
stick up through the hairs that  are lying over on my head.

Rob says, "Okay, I  learned a lesson from this first time ever using
thinning scissors. I shouldn't  make the big first cut as low as I did. There's sc
attered bristles sticking  up through the other longer hairs." He presses
down with his hand but they stick  right back up. "How about some hair gel,
Dylan. Do you think that would  make those bristles lay over?" He's been
talking so much my trance state is  weak now, although I remain enormously
aroused and turned-on sexually.  I  mumble, "No, I don't think so, Robby. They're
too short." He  shrugs, "My first screw-up but it won't happen again.

Overall though, how  do you like it, Dylan. This is, by the way, very much a
businessman's  haircut like I said I'd do for you. Sure, we both agree it is
shorter than  it should be and shorter than I envisioned too, but this is my
first time  cutting your hair in over two years. Plus, I've never used thinning
 scissors before. Seriously though, I'm kinda pleased with the way it
turned out." Through his constant chattering all I can think about is him
fucking me hard as soon as he's done fucking my hair up. I need sex with  him to
relieve the built-up sexual heat from this too-short  haircut. Rob combs the
bangs a few times, playing with my hair basically,  then says, "I like it,
babe, it looks good on you. This is basically,  without those random
too-short hairs, the sort of haircut that I'll do for you  whenever you want a
haircut." I'm completely mesmerized by him and  getting more and more sexually
aroused by the  minute.

He sees I'm not  speaking, so he goes, "I'd be happy to have this haircut
myself." I manage to  say, "I like it okay too, Rob."  As he continues
combing through my  hair he continues selling me on the haircut. "No fuss needed
with this  haircut, baby. See, you comb it over and that's it. Definitely no
hair in your  eyes, heh heh. I really like it." I go, "I do too, Rob," and
it is okay,  but mostly I'm so hot for my barber I'm almost jumping out of my
skin. He gave  me this way-shorter-than-expected haircut without much
hesitation and he pretty  much did it the way he wanted. That's dominant! I'm
very aroused by it  and want him to jump my bones so badly I'm embarrassed for
myself.

Smelling the back of  my hand I'm thinking how  it's taking a concerted
effort on my part not to pull his pants down  and suck his cock as he stands
there. Of course it's partly my fetish but mostly  it's Rob. He did the
haircut without regrets and he was definitely  in-charge while he was
complimenting himself each step of the way. The way  he went about everything has turned
me on enormously. I don't  expect anyone to understand this, and I don't
understand it myself,  but that doesn't change the fact I'm extreme aroused
and it's all directed at Robby.  He isn't aware of my fetish of course.

Someday I'll probably tell Rob so we  don't have any secrets. Probably when we're
fezzing-up about our  side-sex, although only God knows when that'll be.

Rob's saying something,  so I go, "What was that, Rob?" He goes, "I was
asking where a broom is so I can  sweep up your hair." Oh, the haircut is over!
Damn! I look at the floor  around the chair and stare, hardly believing how
much hair was cut off my head.  My hand goes to the back of my head and my
fingers rubs up and then across  the top. It's bristly in back of course,
but I also feel the bristly  half-inch hairs on top that stick-up defiantly
through the hairs  laying over. Rob goes, "It's short, but you knew it would
be when I cut the  hairs on back really short, so... " I nod, "Uh huh, it's
fine Rob. Um,  do you think we could do some sex now? I'm so into you after
this  haircut I can hardly breathe." He looks startled for a second,  then
hugs around my neck and kisses my cheek, saying, "Of course,  baby, I'd love
to do it with you! Do you really like the haircut though?" I  say, "Yes, but
I'm more stuck on you and I've got  this insatiable desire for you to fuck
me hard. I need  it something terrible so that's all I can think about at the
moment."  I stand and get my arms around him and we hug with Rob murmuring,
"You make  me feel so awesome, Dylan. You are so fucking special!" and he
kisses my  mouth and then licks my hickey and says, "Now you're wearing my
hickey and  my haircut."

I'm rubbing my  hands all over him, murmuring, "You were so relentless
giving me  this short haircut, Rob," and we get into another hot  rough make-out
almost wrestling while sliding in the cut hairs on the  hardwood floor. It
goes on for a couple minutes. We've both got saliva all  around our mouths
and on our chins and cheeks with a few of my cut hairs  sticking to our faces
here and there. Rob's got my sweatpants down holding  my cock in his fist,
asking breathlessly, "Where's your lube, baby."  I'm aroused and breathless
too and can only gasp, "Aaaah, ooh, fuck I'm  turned-on, Rob. Um, it's, um,
in the bathroom." He has his dick out through the  fly rubbing it up my ass
crack and it gets hard pretty fast as he, goes, "Seeing  you so turned-on is
getting  me aroused." Then he gets his arm around the back of my neck still
holding  my hard cock as though it belongs to him and he pulls me along
with him to  the bathroom. I take fast short steps because my pants are around
my knees. In  the bathroom I bend down to get the tube of lubricant from
under the  sink and hand it to Rob. He says, "Stay like that a minute and he
gives my  bare ass a few smacks, "Smacks, smack, smack!" Then mumbles, "Same
position as earlier today...."

Oh fuck, I can't catch  my breath as I lean over holding onto the rim of
the sink and almost  immediately feel his slippery finger pushing lube up my
ass and then around  the lips of my asshole. We're both hotly aroused as he
gasps again and  plugs his cock in past my sphincter muscle. There's no slow
deliberate  thrusting this time. It's a tight slide up my ass until Rob's
crotch  presses against my buttocks, then a hand with lubricant on the
fingers grabs my right hip and a dry hand grips my left, and its hard fast
thrusting, "Slapslapslapslap," with my body bouncing against the sink with each
thrust, his hard fat boner is flying back and forth tightly  and slippery in
my ass for two fast minutes with me gasping with my  buttocks muscles as
tight as I can make them. I'm making a whining  sound of aroused pleasure with
every thrust he makes until,  "Eeeeeiiiaah," and cum sizzles coming out of
my cock burning a little at the  speed. Three, four strings of cum and
Robby's against my back now humping  his hips filling me up again.

Gasping, Robby mutters,  "That was a fast but brilliant climax. Oooh
fuuuuck that felt good.  Holy shit!" I'm quivering all over, my body alive with
little electric shocks as  my shoulders continue to spastically shudder. It
drifts across my mind  that this was much better and hotter than any of Ryan's
 haircut-fucks. This was much better and I turn around to meld into Robby's
 body hugging him like my life depended on it. He rubs my back chuckling,
and  quietly saying, "And I thought you'd be pissed off at me for giving you
this businessman's haircut." My face is tightly against the side of his as
I mumble, "Please don't call it that, Robby. Call it Rob's specialty
haircut for  Dylan." He hugs me murmuring, "Okay, baby, I'll call it whatever you
want. Are you alright?" I'm still shaking a little from adrenaline  maybe.

I was totally wound-up for that sex. Rob giving me this too-short  haircut
and then this dominant fuck has pushed my emotions over the top. Rob
murmurs, "You're okay, baby, calm down," as he pulls my pants up and  the cum
leaking from my ass immediately soaks through the back. I cling to  him as we
walk with little steps back to the bedroom. Rob guides us away  from the piles
of my hair on the floor and sits me on the bed then sits next to  me hugging
me with one arm.

I'm still quivering a  little so he asks, "Is something wrong, Dylan?" I
shake my head keeping it  against his, muttering, "No, it's all good, Rob. You
got me super aroused doing  the haircut and then fucking me in a frenzy
like that. It overloaded my circuits  a little. It was awesome Rob! I'll be
fine in a minute." We say  nothing, just hugs until I get it under control. No
one can imagine how aroused  that haircut from Robby got me, not unless they
have a full-blown fetish like I  do. I thought the fetish was weakening,
but apparently not when Rob's my barber.  I loved every second of it.

Finally, I lift my head  and give Rob an embarrassed grin, saying, "Sorry,
but that haircut really got to  me. I'm kinda embarrassed I got so frantic."

He's confused and why wouldn't he  be, so I add, "Something about having
you as my barber set off a lot of  sexual arousal for you." He rubs my head
getting other loose hairs to  tumble to my shoulders as he says, "Lucky me. I
get to see you get  super-hot for me about every three weeks. That's  about
right for in-between haircuts don't ya think?" I nod and lie against him
again, murmuring, "You tell me when you think I need a haircut and I'll see if
I  feel like cooperating with you." Robby chuckles, saying, "Damn, who
could want a  stronger endorsement than that?" I smirk and he goes, "Actually
this day  has been the best one I can remember us having for quite some time."

He's  brushing more hairs off my shoulder adding, "We've both got your cut
hairs  stuck to us. If you'll get a broom I'll put the barber stuff away,
then after we sweep up we'll take another shower together." And that's what
we do...

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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