Date: Fri, 30 Jun 2017 10:54:32 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE    Chapter  49

DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE


Chapter  49


by  Donny Mumford


Parking near the  baseball facility I sit in the pickup with the motor
idling and watch many  baseball players leaving the facility before I spot Rob.

He has his  baseball cap on backward talking with Golden Summers and Danny
Monday. A toot of  the horn gets their attention and Rob gives a wave as all
three of them  begin sauntering toward the pickup. Rob opens the passenger
door, saying,  "Hey, Babe, we've got company for dinner." He pulls the
passenger seat  forward while telling Golden, "Freshman sit in back of the bus." I
bump  fists with Golden as he gets in the back seat, saying, "I see Rob
hasn't gotten any better at barbering," referring to my latest  haircut. He's
smiling, just breaking balls like we all do, so I mutter,  "Sadly, no."

Fact is I think  Golden's kinda put-out I'm not coming to him for haircuts
even though he claims  he doesn't especially like barbering. While giving me
a non-haircut the day  before Christmas break he told me he was thinking
he'd finally move-on  from his ponytail and I got the distinct impression he
wanted me to cut it  for him. Then right after Christmas break he changed his
mind and said he's keeping his ponytail  until the start of baseball
practice, so I go, "What's the  latest ponytail-news now that baseball practice
has begun?" He pulls  on his curly ponytail muttering, "Dude, I'm still
nervous about the  change." I'm like, "Then don't fuckin' do it." He goes, "Have
you ever  had to deal with hair as long as mine?" I nod, "Yes, a couple of
times and I'm  thinking specifically of this guy, Dawg, who had a much longer
ponytail than yours."

Danny slides in the  middle of the front seat saying, "Hey, Dylan, 'sup?" I
go, "Hi, Danny,' and  then to Golden, "We can talk about it at the
apartment if you want." Rob  gets in the shotgun seat leaning past Danny to bump
fists with me, saying,  "Danny's buying a case of beer for tonight so if you
don't mind  let's stop at McGoons package store." I go, "Jesus, Monday's
actually treating us to a case of beer? That's a first." Just a  little more
ball-busting. Danny's like, "Just drive, Newman! I bought the  beer for the
last card game." Golden says, "Um, no you didn't. We all  chipped-in for that
case. Can anyone remember the last time Monday  voluntarily contributed
anything to the dinners or card games?" They bicker  back and forth about that as
I think about giving Golden a haircut. All  that curly light-brown hair,
Jesus! I can picture the curls falling away  from his head, each hair falling
victims to my second-hand professional barber  clippers. Sweet!
Rob pounds his fist in  his baseball glove, exclaiming, "What a great first
day of practice,  huh? We've got a good team this year!" The three baseball
players talk  about that as I drive us to the package store. When Rob and
Danny go in for  the case of beer Golden asks me, "What haircut did you give
this Dawg guy?" I  go, "He went all the way down to a buzz cut." Golden
goes, "No shit?  I've been thinking maybe I'd go all the way too. From one
extreme  to the other. Or maybe I'll go with that haircut you gave your  brother
before the break. I kinda thought that was a good compromise haircut." I
go, "Um, yeah sure." That would be the same haircut I gave Rob after that
Hispanic prick of a phony-barber fucked-up his hair. It's a short  haircut but
still long enough to comb down and flip up the hairs in  front.

To make sure we're on  the same page I describe the haircut I think he
means and  Golden nods, "Yeah, that's the one. Are you up for doing that?" He's
only nineteen-years-old so that's a good style for him. I shrug,  "Sure,
um, you mean tonight?" He nods, "Yeah, it's the first day of  practice. I'm
not punking-out again." I go, "Okay but you'll  probably freak-out the guys at
the next practice. That's if they  even recognize you." He mutters, "Fuck
the guys. There's this girl I met a  couple weeks ago at the Quad. She's a
sophomore but we hit it off and,  whoa... what a great ass on that girl!" I
mutter, "You're an ass-man,  huh?" He says, "It's not just her ass. We've been
flirting with each  other and she's dared me to lose the ponytail. We have
this bet  that if I cut it she'll..." I interrupt, "No heterosexual details
please!" He laughs, "Yeah, you homos don't know what you're missing." I'm
like,  "So I've been told. But seriously, your hair is so curly it might be a
 problem if it's real short." He says, "Nah, no worries. It only curls when
 it gets long." I mutter, "Well, okay then. Let's do it."

Danny and Rob come out  of the package store with a case of beer, chortling
about something. Danny drops  the beer in the pickup's cargo bed and they
get in as Danny's saying, "That  asshole counter guy wouldn't sell us the
beer unless we  both showed ID." I get the truck in gear and back-out of the
parking  spot, asking, "What were you laughing about coming out of the store?"

Danny  says, "When Rob showed the guy his license he told the him he's been
buying  booze there for three years and this is the first time he's shown
real ID. The  guy got all snotty with us." Golden asks, "What'd he say?" Rob
goes, "He said I  was full of shit and then insisted on seeing another form
of ID. While I'm  showing him my college ID Danny's doing that middle school
shit of coughing  while saying, 'douche-bag' as if the guy wouldn't
notice." The rest  of the drive we all have a story about getting carded, which we
naturally embellish for laughs.

Inside the condo Danny carries the case of  Rolling Rock bottles to the
kitchen, complaining, "I not only need to pay for  the fucking beer I gotta
carry it." No one pays any attention to that as we all  grab a bottle and then
he and Rob transfer the rest of the bottles  into the refrigerator. I call
Chub to invite him to dinner and of course John  Beverly needs to tag along
too. When they get here we try deciding what to have  for dinner. Everyone
has a different idea until I tell them, "Listen! We have  everything we need
for a spaghetti and meatballs dinner. If you want  something else, you'll
need to go out and buy it first. They all go, "In that  case... spaghetti and
meatballs it is." I'm like, "Okay, I'll do the tomato  sauce. Chub you wanna
organized the rest?" He goes, "Yeah, I'll do the  meatballs, John you do the
salad, Rob can turn that loaf of Italian bread into  garlic bread and heat
it up in the oven. Golden, you're in-charge of a  big-ass pot of water for
the spaghetti and a strainer for when it's cooked, but  nobody do anything
until  I get all the ingredients organized or we'll be stepping on each
other." John  mutters, "Yes, sergeant."

It's not a very big  kitchen so Chubby's right, but with best intentions
out-the-window all six of us  are bumping into each other for a couple of
minutes getting started. Once the  four non-cooks finish their simple
assignments everything calms down and  it's just Chubby and me in the kitchen. The
other four guys drink beer and  shoot the shit while watching us doing the
cooking. They  offer suggestions which we ignore. Chubby's combining ground beef
and  ground pork using his impeccably clean hands while I shred carrots,
celery and  lots of onion in a sauce pan to simmer in olive oil. Those  three
ingredients are what's known as a French mirepoix . The  vegetables are
usually minced but I use a shredder so they'll cook faster and  mostly dissolve
while simmering with tomatoes and spices. When  the vegetables are
translucent I add two cans of crushed plum tomatoes, two  bay leaves that will be
removed before serving, thyme, tomato paste,  a couple of tablespoons of sugar,
some oregano, Italian seasoning, a  half cup of grated Parmesan cheese,
some crushed red pepper flakes, a cup of  water, and lastly salt and pepper.

Everything should blend  together while simmering for at least an hour...

stirring whenever you think of  it. I don't measure the ingredients but eyeball
the amounts of each from  experience; a little of this and maybe a little
more of  that.

Chubby's meatballs are  always good. To the combined ground pork and beef,
he mixes beef broth,  eggs, crushed garlic, grated Parmigiana cheese, bread
crumbs that he  soaked in milk and then squeezed out the excess milk...

bread and eggs  are the binder for the meatballs. Also some minced parsley,
minced onion,  and lastly salt and pepper. He doesn't measure the ingredients
either but  just goes by what's worked over the years. Also using his
impeccably clean hands  he mixes everything very well and then rolls the mixture
into balls. The  golf-ball-size meatballs are browned in olive oil. When
browned all around  the meatballs are transfers to a flat baking pan and go into
a preheated 350-degree oven for fifteen minutes or so before  being put in
the big sauce pan. The meatballs add more flavor to the  spaghetti sauce, or
gravy as the Italians call it. He and I finish about the  same time.

Chubby and I bring our  bottles of beer out on the balcony with Rob, Danny
Monday, and John Beverly  for a smoke. That leaves only Golden in the
apartment. He's  the only smart one in the group as a non-smoker. Golden's
watching Comcast  Sports Tonight on TV as John tells us what he put in the salad
and I'm like, "No  cucumber?" He goes, "I hate cucumber. The seeds are
bitter," and we argue about  that a little bit. Danny bums a cigarette off Rob and
they chuckle about  something so I glance over and notice their
identical-assembly-line haircuts,  compliments of Golden. Scalped around the sides and
back with a mop of hair on  top. Looks goofy as hell to me although it's
gaining in popularity by the  minute. One night I was watching that competition
cooking show, 'Chopped'  on the Food Network and three young chefs all had
that same stupid-ass haircut.  For some reason that pisses me off just like
it pisses me off that almost  every man I see on sports talk shows now have
that five-day beard look.  Sure it looks good on some young men but these
aren't young  men. Humans are like zombies stupidly following the leader like
dimwitted lemmings. Who the fuck starts these hideous fads anyway? If I
could just get my hands around his throat....

Done with my  cigarette I flick the butt off Danny's ass
accidentally-on-purpose and then  watch it somehow bounces off the railing and drops below to
the parking  lot. Going in the sliding glass door I ask Golden, "You ready
to lose that dumb  ponytail?" He nods, mumbling, "Yeah, but this is a big
deal to me so I'm a  little shaky." I go, "Don't be a baby, it's just a fuckin'
haircut..."  Of course, my heart's thumping at the prospect of cutting most
of his hair  off. I go, "Let's do it in the bedroom. I don't like an
audience." He gets up  saying, "I don't either but I have one every Saturday I'm
doing  haircuts."

In the bedroom, I close  the door and get an old sheet out of the linen
closet and drop it on the  floor. The desk chair goes in the middle of the
sheet so the cut hairs will  drop on the sheet and afterward I'll bunch it up
and dump the contents over the  balcony and let the winds spread Golden's hair
throughout the apartment complex.  Sort of like ashes after a cremation.  I
get the barber cape a guy gave me,  and drop it over Golden. I forget the
name of the guy who donated this cape but  I remember his friend's name. It's
Sam Styles. I remember the name  because of hair-styles. Both of those guys
lied when they  claimed to be friends of Steve Church, Ryan's old roommate,
but it's worked-out  okay. Speaking of Steve, he should need a haircut by
now even though Ryan  butchered his hair before Christmas break. I should be
hearing from him shortly  and I hope I do because I'd like to know if he's
heard anything from  Ryan.

Golden asks, "How you  gonna do this, Dylan?" I mumble, "Well I'm not gonna
fuck around with it,  Golden. I'll use the clippers with a half-inch guide
halfway up the sides and  back and then use the clippers-over-comb to blend
hair-lengths on  top which will be about an inch-and-a-half when I'm
finished. Sound okay to  you?" He nods, "Yeah, but no shorter than that, okay?" I
go, "Yeah, yeah, don't  fucking worry! You're in good hands." He mutters,
"Oh, I'm not nervous  much. My balls have shrunk to the size of marbles and I
feel faint, but I'm  good."

First I cut the elastic  that's holding his ponytail together. Turning on
the clippers, I mutter, "Hope I  remember how to do this," and he blurts out
a laugh, mumbling, "What a prick." I  do his haircut just like I said I
would; the clippers easily cut  through his hair; some hairs are ten or
eleven-inches long. All of the  hairs are cut down to a half-inch halfway up the
sides and back of his head. The  long hair above the first cut is combed up and
the clippers run across the comb  with piles of long curly hair tumbling
off the blades onto the back of my  hand and then most of it slides down the
cape to accumulate in his lap. It  doesn't give me the rush I expected
because the sheer volume of cut  hairs numbs my senses; it's like overkill.

Neither of us talks  during the haircut. The constant buzz of the clippers
becomes hypnotic to me  after a while. Golden is a nice looking
nineteen-year-old-freshman but  strangely I'm not sexually attracted to him at all.

Maybe because he  acts mature for his age and looks older than me. Actually, the
only  real negative in his appearance is his butt-chin that's officially
called a cleft-chin and is supposedly sexy to women. The sexiness of  that
alludes me. Yeah, but it's not as bad as a butt-nose I've seen on some  guys.

The point of their nose looks like as ass with an ass-crack in the  middle.

Poor bastards! I think Golden looks best when he doesn't shave for  a few
days and his short beard hides the butt crack in his chin. Other than  that,
like I just fucking said, he's nice-looking and I'm pretty sure female  types
think he's cute. Good for them, and him.

Contrary to what Golden  told me, his hair is still wavy even when it's
only an-inch-and-a-half-long  on top of his head. The thing is though short
wavy hair with this style haircut  looks even better than it does with straight
hair like Rob's. I didn't know  that until now. It's especially true for
the flipped-up bangs. Anyway, I'm  very pleased with the way it looks. The
haircut takes longer than most. It  goes on for like twenty-minutes because I'm
being meticulous with  every detail. When I take the cape off him, Golden
asks, "How do you think  it looks, Dylan?" I shrug, "It's perfect if you ask
me. Ten times better than  that ass of a ponytail." And it is too.

Previously Golden's entire  style-statement was all the hair on his head is pulled
back flat  and tied in the back.

He stands up and looks  at himself in the bureau mirror trying not to
smile. I know he wants to say  it looks like shit to break my balls, but he can't
because his hair looks really  good and he knows it. Instead of jokingly
breaking my balls, he goes, "Holy  shit! It looks awesome, and damn if I don't
look a couple years younger!  Don'cha think?"  I go, "Yeah, actually you
do. Now you look  about twenty-four." He chuckles as I add, "You might have
more trouble  getting served with that fake ID now because the picture on it
is you and your  ponytail." He shrugs again, "Yeah, but no sweat. I'll get my
bud, Hawk,  back home to do a new ID for me with a selfie I'll send him." I
ask, "Back home  is Indiana, right?" He nods, "Yeah, Crown Point.

Hicksville, I guess you'd call  it." I'm like, "Who's Hawk?" Golden pats the hair on
top of his head, mumbling,  "Oh, he's like a genius with fake ID. He sells
it on the Internet." That  would have been good to know in past years, but
now I don't need fake  ID.

Golden gets serious for  a brief moment and thanks me for not fucking-up
his hair, 'too badly'.  That'll have to do for a compliment I guess. Instead
of dumping all  Golden's cut hair over the balcony we both get big fistful of
it and dump it in  the wastebasket next to the desk. All the wastebaskets
in the apartment are  lined with plastic bags for easy disposal. When there's
only scattered  hairs left on the sheet I bunch it up as planned and we
join everyone in  the living room. Cat-calls and random insults are directed at
Golden's haircut  initially, but then everyone acknowledges the obvious,
which is he looks really  cool with his new haircut. I shake the sheet over
the railing off the  balcony getting most of the cut hairs blowing in the wind
and then stick the  sheet in the hamper.

By the time dinner is  served most of us are on our third beer. No one gets
drunk from three beers  though, well except maybe Pony but he's not here
tonight. Three beers  gets us in a relaxed mood so everyone here  tonight is
feeling fine. We all had a part in preparing the dinner so  there's
compliments all around and it is very good if I do say so myself.  Everyone more or
less helps clean-up the kitchen and then we finish off Danny's  case of beer
while watching some of the Thursday Night Football;  the Jets/Dolphin game
on TV. During the game, there are text messages  coming in so we all have our
cellphones out. How the fuck did people  stay in touch prior to cellphones?
It seems inconceivable. Rob talks quietly on  his cellphone for five
minutes or so with someone named Greg. I know that  because I'm straining to
eavesdrop and I hear him say the name a few times.  Danny heard it too and I
glance at him as he's frowning in Rob's  direction. The TV announcers for the
game are loud and other guys are  talking so I guess Rob doesn't think we can
hear what he's saying. Well, we  can't actually, just a word here or there.

I suppose both Danny and me are  a tad, um, jealous. I don't have a right to
be pissed-off, I know that, but I  can't help being a little bit jealous of
a guy I don't even know. Rob's  obviously talking with Greg Peters and
while I now know the name, I've  never met him.

Except for Rob's  annoying cellphone call the entire evening has been a
damn good  college night for me with the guys. I think hanging with the guys is
 an awesome way to spend some time. In tonight's group there are three
straight  and three gay guys and we get along seamlessly. If I didn't know it
already I  couldn't have picked-out the other two gay guys in this group and I
think  that's much more representative of gay males my age than most people
 realize. The exception being rare occasions when I've been in a gay  bar.

In there straight-acting gays are outnumbered by the free-spirited gays  who
feel free to be gay, which is only right. I admire them but can only be
who I am, just as they can only be who they are. John Smith's gay friends  in
Worcester come to mind. Almost anyone would know they're gay but I enjoyed
being with them even though there weren't many gay stereotypical
affectations they didn't put on full display that night. I did get the sense  though
that the free-spirited gays considered John and I second-class gays  because
we're straight-acting. A stigma I guess, but why fake being someone  we're
not? I wonder if Greg Peters is a straight-acting gay guy? Actually I hope
he's overweight with a receding hairline.

When our dinner guests  leave, Rob makes me forget all about Greg Peters.

We have the kind of  aggressive sex Rob knows I like best, and the second
time we do it is even  better than the first. His fat hard boner gives me a
fleeting thought of Dennis'  boner even though Rob's isn't as big around or as
long. No matter a guy's  cock-size there isn't any one who can get-me-off
better than Rob and it's  because he knows exactly what I like. Mostly though
I get-off best with Rob  because I feel such deep love for him and from him.

With Rob, I can sense  his priority is giving me the best pleasure he can
while his  own pleasure is secondary. How I know this I can't explain, it's
just  something I feel even when it's rough, hard, and fast sex. Especially
when it's  rough, hard, and fast I should say. Slow lover's sex is awesome
too but that  almost always end rough, hard, and fast when our climaxes begin
and crash  the party. Then it's a wild glorious dash to the finish line.

Sexually satisfied, Rob  and I get a really good night's sleep. Friday
morning however I'm feeling  randy again so I roll over and use my thumb and
forefinger to pry open  Rob's left eye. He looks at me for a second as a grin
forms on his lips. We mess  around in bed until we've got hard boners and
then just before I can  carry out my plan of fucking him, Rob gets me
turned-over on my  stomach and fucks my ass hard. It's awesome! I have to smile
afterward  because he beat me to it by ten seconds. I was too deeply into our
foreplay  to take the upper-hand this time. Next time though...

We don't have  a class on Fridays so after our sex I'm lying here trying to
think how  to describe how wonderful I feel after having sex with Rob and
realize it's  one more thing I can't put into words. It's something
though....  I  stare at Rob and get this wonderful loving feeling knowing he'll
always be there  for me. Reminding myself again not to overdo it I nestle against
him and,  like always, his arm automatically comes over me and I feel taken
care of and  loved... what a perfect way to fall back to sleep.

We take a shower  together around eleven o'clock feeling well rested and
without a hint of a  hangover, so what could be better. I've still got that
loving feeling for Rob  and want to prove it to him so I grin at my boyfriend
and drop to my knees.  With water pouring down on me I suck his cock until
he groans and shuffles his  feet, then cums in my mouth. Rob backs up against
the shower stall wall  shuddering and gasping as I look up at him. Hmmm, am
I trying to prove to  Rob how much better I am than that ass-wipe Greg
Peters? Is that why I just  sucked him off? Well, I've got a boner too of
course. I always get one  sucking Rob's cock. He's smiling and pulling me up onto
my feet and then he  goes down and returns the favor. Wow! Oral sex when
done with the right guy is a  fantastic trip. After my orgasm, I'm the one
gasping for air as Rob's standing  and putting his tongue inside my mouth and I
taste my own cum. Huh,  really tasty although another on a long list of
things I can't put into  words. I simply can't describe it.

Drying off after our  shower, Rob says, "The last twelve-hours have been
about as awesome a  twelve-hour period I can ever remember." Pulling on
underpants, I'm like, "Do you think, say five years from now we'll be doing sex
as much as we do it now?" He goes, "I'd like to say a definitive 'yes' but
I just don't know. I sure hope so." I almost ask about our side-sex  five
years from now but I'm not sure how I feel about it myself. I know one  thing
though... being totally monogamist in our senior year doesn't seem a
realistic possibility. I say that after admitting our sex couldn't possibly be
any better or hotter than it's been lately. Habits though, like doing
side-sex, are normally hard to break and I don't mean just for me but for  everyone
including Rob. Maybe I should be glad there's a Greg Peters out  there...

and Danny too for that matter.

It's noon by the time  we're dressed and out of the bedroom. After a cold
glass of orange juice  both of us are sipping on cups of coffee as I scramble
six eggs while  Rob microwaves eight slices of bacon.  We both butter a
couple slices  of toast and have breakfast instead of lunch. After that we're
on the  balcony smoking. Rob says, "The snow has finally melted, babe. I
thought it  never would but, except the snow-plow-piles at the end of the
parking lots, I  think we've seen the last of the snow until next winter. What's
the temperature  gonna be today?" I go, "I'll check my cellphone," then say,
"High of forty-eight  today." He mumbles, "It's getting there," and I go,
"Tonight's below freezing  again." He grins, "You had to insert some reality,
huh?" and he hugs me. Damn,  his body feels good. He's sexy hot! I know his
interest in the temperature is  baseball related. He can't wait to play some
 nice-weather baseball.

We do some house  cleaning and then the laundry. When we're done those
housekeeping  requirements it's time for Rob's baseball practice. I'm like, "I'm
gonna go  with you and watch you guys practice for a while." Rob nods,
"Sure, the  best place for doing that are the bleachers near the batting cage."

He gets his  glove and we put on coats to head outside. Rob drives us on
campus and  parks where I usually park when picking him up after practice.

Outside the  facility he bumps fist and exchanges greeting with some teammates
who I  don't know. No sense doing introductions since I won't remember their
names a  minute later anyway.

I go inside with them  and as the players go down a flight of stairs to the
locker room I saunter  into the facility looking around and then go up a
couple of bleacher rows  to sit away from a group of girls. They're probably
girlfriends of some of the  players. Early arriving ballplayer are already
playing catch. The  hard ball slapping into gloves makes a cool, 'Thwok!'
sound.  That and the bantering between players is pleasant background music if
you like  baseball like I do. There are ten or twelve guys in the stands as
well as the  girlfriends. The guys are probably friends of players but most
likely not  friends the way I am with Rob.

By three o'clock there  are fifty ballplayers trying-out for the
thirty-five man roster. The  players and coaches are all on the playing surface doing
something. In  actuality, of the fifty guys here there are probably thirty
who know they've  made the team already. The other twenty are competing for
five open spots  on the roster. For something to do I evaluate the players
'looks'. They all  have baseball caps covering most of their hairdos so I'm
without an important  part of the equations as to who is cute and who is not.

Considering faces  and body types, after close perusal over a thirty-minute
period, I can only come  up with six and possibly a borderline seventh guy
out of fifty that I  consider cute and/or good-looking. The thing is Rob,
Danny, and Golden are three  of the seven which means only three or four other
guys out of forty-seven  are above average-looking in my opinion. Yeah but
that's about right for  any random group of fifty young guys. I came up with
the same percentage looking  at hundreds of young guys on the boardwalk over
the years. Actually, to be  brutally honest about it, only Robby really
qualifies as  one-hundred-percent cutely handsome. It's entirely subjective
obviously and  another gay guy might choose a totally different six or seven
guys as cute or  good looking.

Then I remember  last fall's baseball practice and look around quickly at
the  people in the bleachers half expected to see Frankie and Beth. Huh,
they're not here because their interest in baseball was another fraudulent part
 of the 'bet' they had about Frankie getting Rob to have sex  with her.

Those two turned-out to be a couple of bitches! Hmmm, Rob's  now on the far
side of the field taking grounders and this is getting  boring!  I leave the
building and walk over to the Quad. Maybe  they'll be some guys there to shoot
the shit with. As usual the Quad is full of  students who, like me, have
nothing better to do.

Getting a Coke from the  vending machine I saunter around nodding at guys I
recognize from this  semester's classes; guys I don't really know but who
give me a nod. Then  I see a couple of guys from freshman year who Rob and I
have  mostly drifted away from the last two years. Finally I'm like, fuck
it, and  walk back the way I came. Finishing my soda, I drop the empty Coke
can in  the recycle bin and go back outside. As I've been doing lately, I scan
the area  for any gorilla sightings before going down the steps. It's
four-thirty so my  latest side-sex buddy, Dennis, is already done work for the
day so  unfortunately he won't be texting me.

I missed my chance to  see John Smith at the bar Wednesday when Danny
needed Rob's help with something.  I could have met John then but I was kinda
wondering what it was  Danny needed help with and didn't think to take the
opportunity to borrow  the pickup and meet with John at the bar. I could have
texted  Chubby and found out where the Jeep was too. Dammit! Why'd I pass up
that  opportunity? Ever since our overnight trip to Worcester John has been
acting  more assertive during sex the times I have managed to meet him for
lunch.  He's getting more comfortable being bossy although he still has a
tendency  to ruin it by asking if I think he's doing okay. When he asks that it
kinda ruins my submissive mood. Coaching him to be more dominant sort of
takes the shine off it. He wants to please, which is a good thing, and hell,
I  like him but it'd be great if he would just carry through one sex act
without asking for an okay from me. Ha ha, we had it going pretty good when we
 were smashed at the Christmas party. That was some damn good  sex.

Hmm, Pony's done his  Friday classes, so maybe... and then just like magic
my cellphone  beeps and it's from him: 'Dylan, my roommate will be away for
the  weekend! Get over here immediately.' Heh heh, that pony boy can always
be  counted on. I'm liking the idea of doing some 'topping' since I missed
my  chance to do that with Rob this morning. He beat me to it by seconds. Not
 that I didn't enjoy getting fucked hard by him 'cause I certainly did! At
times Rob can put me in a mild trance too, like he did after that first
haircut. Jeez, that was hot although not yet as hot as it sometimes was  after
one of Ryan's haircuts. And I haven't heard a peep out of that liar  since
he left for Georgia.

I text Pony, 'What  the fuck? Do you think I'm at your beck and call? I've
got a life, ya know.' He texts back,  'My sincerest apologies. Please stop
over if you get the chance. I've got a  ping pong paddle you can use on my
ass." Ha ha, I text, 'Well, since you  put it that way I'll be over
presently.' I'm  a five-minute walk from his dorm but if I jog I'll  be there in two
minutes and take him by surprise. Hmmm, I  wonder where his roommate's going
for the weekend? It's funny that after all the  sex Rob and I had between
last night and this morning I'm still eager to fuck  Pony. It's the variety I
suppose, but also I love me some Daryl Ponti. Yeah, I  love this kid, but
obviously not romantically or anything like that. It's  buddy sex and he's
become a good friend too. Pony and I banter back and forth  and argue a lot but
I feel his affection for me at the same time. Sure, he's  kinda immature
for a twenty-year-old but that's refreshing to me, especially  since I'm
always wondering if I'm immature. By the way, my conclusion on the  immature
topic is that sometimes I am, and sometimes I'm  not.

Two knocks on his dorm  room door and Tom Higgins opens it. I'm like, "Tom!
Um, 'sup?" He goes, "I'm on  my way out, Dylan." We bump fists as I ask,
"Where you going?" He says, "Me  and Chuck Tobin are on a one night excursion
to the Cape to scope out a  spot for spring break." I'm like, "Spring break
at the Cape? It'll be cold." He  shrugs, "It's Chuck's idea and I've never
been there so it's something  new to see. We're taking the ferry to both
islands and checking it  all out." I mutter, "Good luck. Um, where's Pony?" He
goes, "In the  lavatory," and he puts a backpack on over his coat, saying,
"See ya,  Dylan." As he walks out the door I go, "You're not taking that
shit-box  Oldsmobile of yours, are you?" He laughs, "Yes we are!" I go, "Double
good  luck in that case." He says, "Hey, thanks again for last week's
haircut, Dylan," and the door  closes. I've given Tom four haircuts and they're all
regular SuperCut jobs because that's what he's used to and what he  claims
he likes. Jesus, some guys have no style! And poor Tom at  twenty-years-old
is not bad looking except he could be twenty-eight going by his  'looks'.

Some guys are cursed with much older looks. He's a really nice guy  though. He
should have no problem getting booze using his fake ID at the  Cape.

I'm snooping through  things on Pony's desk when he comes in asking, "How
the fuck did you get here so  fast?" We do a hug with me messing-up his hair
and him yelling, "Dammit! That's  what I was fixing in the lavatory after
taking a dump." I mutter, "TMI,  numb-nuts." He's goes, "Since you fucked it
up you need to comb my  hair for me," and I'm like, "You still don't have a
mirror in this dump?" He  shrugs, "I keep forgetting to buy one." Pony's been
getting the haircut I've  been doing for a number of guys lately, and I
haven't done that particular  style for a year or so before resurrecting for
Chub before Christmas  break; and then for Rob after his hair was fucked by
the fraud Hispanic barber.  Now other guys are asking for it too. Golden being
the latest  just yesterday.

As I'm combing Pony's  hair down on top and flipping up the bangs in front,
he asks, "Do you think I  need a haircut?" I chuckle, "No! I gave you a
haircut the same day as Tom  and that was six days ago." He goes, "Over
Christmas break my old man was  ragging on me to get a haircut before coming back
to school. Ha, I told him I've  got my own personal fucking barber and no
hick from my home town is  ever cutting the hair on my head again." I ask, "Did
you say 'fucking'?" He  goes, "Yeah, we all say 'fuck' in my family. We're
crude and rude from the wrong  side of the tracks, why?" I go, "No reason,
but your hair will be a long  mop when I see you next fall considering it'll
be four months between your  last haircut from me at the end of this
semester." He goes, "No-no, you're wrong  about that, Dylan. I'm making a trip back
here from Pennsylvania. To your place  in Framingham to be exact and I'm
doing it at least twice during the  summer. I'll be spending a couple of days
with you at your place." He said that  so seriously I can't help laughing
out loud. He goes, "Well, I am. You'll  see."

As he's telling me that  he's taking off his clothes. I'm watching with a
smirk on my face but the truth  is he has a dynamo body. He's was on his high
school varsity swimming and  gymnastics teams from  freshman year through
senior year. Quite an athlete and because of him I got me  in good shape last
semester with our three mile runs and workouts at the fitness  center. We
can't do that this year because of conflicting  class schedules. Oh man,
Pony's body is almost totally devoid of hair too.  He claims that's due to some
Philippine influence from his grandmother, but who  knows if that's
bull-shit or not. Pony's got a very pale skin tone contrasting  sexily with his dark
brown hair and dark blue eyes. He's really quite  striking to look at and
kinda cute too.

Naked now, Pony says,  "I've been very bad so you'll need to discipline me
with a hard spanking  and don't stop when I start whining for you to stop."

I nod, "Okay, but  where's the ping pong paddle?" He grins, "I lied about
that to get you to come  over." I'm like, "Daryl, you're the one who likes
getting spanked, remember? I  don't even want to do it  so why would you having
a paddle get me to come running over here?" He goes,  "You're here aren't
you?" I chortle, "Yeah, but not because of the paddle. The  allure of fucking
your sweet ass was too much to ignore." He turns and  sticks his ass out
looking back at it, mumbling, "It is a cute ass, isn't it?" I  go, "Yeah, and
tell me something. Have you always been this comfortable  being naked?" He
shakes his head, "No, just the opposite. I told you I  avoided being naked in
front of anyone before meeting you. I'm so  comfortable with you now that
it's like being-naked is nothing. And I  know you drool over my body so I let
you see me naked." I go, "I'm  hardly drooling, Pony, but you do have a
slightly hot  body."

He leans over putting  his hands on his knees and looks back at me, asking,
"What are you waiting  for?" I shrug, "I just don't feel like spanking you,
Pony. I feel like hugging  your tight body and messing-up your hair and
then getting you to suck my big  cock." He snorts and goes, "You're delusional.

It's not big!" I'm like,  "Bigger than yours!" He's like, "C'mon, Dylan,
give me a spanking." I step  over to him and put a hand on his back, then rub
over some of his spine's  thirty-three vertebrae; I can only see a few of
them. Like most of us Pony has  a slightly 'S' shaped spine. His back has
slight concave curves at his neck  and again at his lower back or lumbar region
as it's officially called.  Everything about his body is tightly in
proportion. Rubbing the palm of my hand  down his back again, I sternly tell him,
"Do not jerk-off during your  spanking!" He whines, "I can't help it. You'll
need to tie my hands behind me if  you don't want me jerking-off." I
chuckles, "Okay, I will," and take my clean  handkerchief from my back pocket.

Folding it into a triangle and twirling it, I  go, "Put your hands behind you."

He does that and I tie his wrist together with  a good tight knot. Pony goes,
"Oh fuck, this is so hot! I'm fucking  helpless..."

It is a little sexy,  but previously my experience has been exclusively at
Pony's end of things. I'm  usually the one tied-up. He's still bending over
at the waist as I walk him to  his bed and get him to lie his head and chest
there. My first, "Smack!' on his  ass gets no response from Pony so I whack
on his ass until both his butt  cheeks are pink and he finally goes,
"Okay-okay that's enough! Stop!" Three  more smacks from me and he's trying to
move away but I hold him there and,  "Smack!Smack!Smack!" and now he has a
crying sound to his voice, "I said that's  enough, Dylan," and he adds a weak,
"Please stop." Reaching between his legs I  feel his cock and while it's firm
I expected him to have a hard boner.  Reading my mind, he grumbles, "It was
a hard boner before you did those extra  smacks on my ass." I go, "Huh,
that's interesting. You get a boner from being  spanked, but then if you get
too many smacks makes you lose it." He turns  his head to the side on the bed,
"This is the first time you didn't stop when I  said to stop." I'm
exasperated, "You made me promise not to stop." He laughs,  "Since when do you do
what I say?" I mutter, "Yeah, you've got a point  there."

Teasing him, "Well.  Pony-boy, with you in this helpless condition I've got
the strongest urge to  give you another spanking because of your whining."

He goes, "Bull-shit. You're  too nice to do that," and he lifts off the bed
standing-up, saying "But keep my  hands ties." I go, "Next time do not tell
me something unless you mean  it!" He grins, "In hindsight it was good that
you didn't stop because I  almost shot-off." I mutter, "See, I'm always
trying to please." He's trying to  look behind him to see his ass, asking, "Are
my butt cheeks red?" I shake my  head and sit on his bed, then lie back,
saying, "No, ya big pussy. They're just  pinkish. I could get them red with
more spanking if you want." He chuckles, "I  thought you didn't like spanking
me." I mumble, "I'm getting to like it a  little." He flops on the bed next
to me, "Get naked, Dylan, so I can rub against  your body. Oh I almost
forgot, I want you to shave my pubes like yours." I  go, "You'll need to do that
yourself." He goes, "Pleeeeease!" So what the hell?  I say, "Turn over on
your back then."

He does that and I push  at his feet, saying, "Pull your legs back and
spread them." He does  it, saying, "It's uncomfortable with laying on my
tied-hands, but I'm  getting hard again just thinking about you shaving my pubes."

Looking  over at his desk top, I'm like, "Um, do you have scissors?" and he
nods his head toward his desk, "In my toiletry kit." I go over and move
things  around until I see the scissors. "Why do you have scissors?" He shrugs,
"I don't  know, I just do." Picking up a Gillette ProGlide razor and
holding it up, I ask,  "And why do you have this?" He says, "I shave! Um, every
couple of weeks." I'm  rustling through his toiletry kit again and come up
with a can of Gillette  shaving gel, saying, "Well it's a good thing you have
this stuff 'cause without  it I couldn't perform this delicate procedure."

Walking over to the bed  I rub the back of my fingers up his cheek, asking,
"And just where on your baby  face do you need to shave?" He goes, "I
shaved this morning so you won't  feel anything, but it's on my upper lip and
below my sideburns." I'm like,  "Okay, don't shave for a month, Pony, and
you'll look extra cute with a few  scattered whiskers." He grins, "Ahhh, it's so
nice you think I'm cute." I  go, "Yeah, well you are in a goofy kind of
way." He says, "Any way is  better than none. Now shave my pubic hairs so I can
be like my  idol."

Spreading his legs some  more, I mumble, "Like I said, this is a delicate
operation so don't fucking  move. I don't want to cut your dick off or cut
your scrotum and have one of  your tiny balls roll out." He laughs, then I
ask, "In all seriousness. All  kidding aside... do you really want to do this?
How about showering in the  communal dorm showers? How you gonna explain
your pubic-hairlessness" He goes,  "Ooooh, I didn't think of that. No, don't do
it." He's getting off the bed as  I'm mumbling, "What a pain-in-the-ass you
are." He goes, "Thanks for mentioning  that shower thing." His hands are
still tied behind him, "Are you gonna  keep my hands tied?" I'm like, "Do you
want me to?" He says, "Yeah," and I'm  like, "Well why did you ask me then?"

He shrugs, "I don't  know."

Sitting on the bed  again, I take my shirt off and drop it on the floor.

Then wiggle out of my  sneakers and pull my pants and underpants off. Then,
wearing only socks,  I go, "Okay, suck my dick. I'm kinda anxious to fuck that
sweet smacked-ass  of yours." He mutters, "Me too," and awkwardly gets on
his knees between my  legs. "Would you hold your dick out, Dylan?" I shake my
head, "No, you figure  out how to do this with no hands." I shaved my pubes
in the shower yesterday so  it's smooth down there for Pony's face as his
cheek moves my limp cock to  the side and he tries lifting it with his nose
and we're both chuckling. With  his tongue out he gets it under my dick and
then eases the head of my penis up  onto his tongue and then captures it in
his mouth. I clap, "Bravo!" Pony's  grinning as his sharp teeth slide against
the underside of my cock making me  shudder a little because it feels good
inside his warm wet mouth. Damn this  is a major turn-on. He's licking the
head and moving his head forward getting a  couple of inches of shaft inside
with the head.

Making wet slurping  sounds Pony sucks on my dick as I run my fingers
through his soft dark brown  hair and look into his dark blue eyes. He's got his
eyes at the top of their  sockets looking up at me and smiling around my
firming cock, saying, "Swish  shh funs." I go "What's that you say... this is
fun?" He nods smiling harder.  Damn he's a likable kid! I say 'kid' but he's
not even a year younger than me  and he's almost exactly my size, although
in better shape. So he's not a 'kid'  although I think of him like that
because he acts like one most of the time. And  he gets flustered at times too,
asking, 'Why do I act like I'm fifteen when  I'm with you?' I don't know why
but I kinda like it.

There's spit dripping  off his chin by the time he's sucked a nice boner on
my dick. I take it in my  fingers to pull it out of his mouth, "Awesome
job, Pony! Really felt good!" He  sits back on his ankles, "Tasted good too.

You probably think I'm a sicko,  but look," and he nods his head at his lap
where he has another fairly hard  boner. I go, "You sick fuck! Do you mean to
tell me you're so gay you get a  hard-on from sucking my dick?" He shrugs,
"Apparently so. I'm one sick  mother-fucker of a homo, huh?" I laugh, "You
and me both, Pony. I get a boner  sucking dick too," and I mess his hair
again. "Goddammit, don't do that, Dylan!"  I mess it up some more and he laughs,
muttering, "You're doing good with your  efforts to become a prick." I'm
like, "It doesn't come naturally to me, but yeah  I'm making some head-way.

Thanks for noticing."

Getting off the bed I  get behind him and help pull him up with a hand
under each of his arms. "Lie  back on the bed like you were for your spanking."

He goes, "Well help me do it.  Everything is awkward without my arms and
hands." I guide him to lie on the  side of the bed with his ass at the end.

He's on his feet so his ass is  just the right height. I ask, "Do you have
lubricant of any kind?" He says, "Not  the kind you mean, no. I use hand lotion
when I'm forced to jerk-off because  you're too busy having sexy fun
elsewhere." Fumbling around in his toiletry  kit again I find a bottle of
Neutrogena Norwegian Hand Cream...  Fragrance-Free. Holding it up, I'm like, "This
shit is expensive." He shrugs, "I  don't know. I got it as a stocking stuffer
for Christmas." I act incredulous,  "You mean to tell me you still have a
Christmas stocking at your age?" He  whines, "It's my mom! I have nothing to
do with it." I mutter, "What a baby,"  and then tell him, "My mom does the
same thing." He mutters,  "See."

With cream in my hand I  stroke my cock and then squeeze some cream up his
ass and around the lips of his  nice looking asshole. He has a perfect
rosebud anus  that's always been very clean any time I've seen it. "I ask, "Do
you  ever take a crap, Pony?  Your asshole is always so clean." Rob's like
that too. Pony says, "Don't be  absurd. It's just a matter of cleaning my ass
after pooping and I'm a very clean  person." I go, "Well as they say,
cleanliness is next to Godliness." He asks,  "Who says that?" I go, "It's an idiom
from the Bible I believe. Spiritual purity  and goodness." He goes, "That's
me alright!"

Holding my fairly hard  cock in my fist I guide the head to his
creamed-filled asshole and push the head  halfway in and see his buttocks muscles
involuntarily tighten. Both butt cheeks  are back to their natural pale creamy
color after the spanking; not  unlike the color of his other two cheeks. A
small thrust gets the head of  my boner disappearing inside Pony and he goes,
"Ummmm, that's tight, Dylan." I  ask, "Does it hurt?" He shrugs, "A little,
but don't stop. I like it."  Yeah, well so do I.

Leaning forward  slightly gets two inches of my hard cock sliding tightly
up his ass and now my  shoulders do their little shudder at how good it
feels. Pony groans, "Ooooh, fuuuuck that's nice...  oooh." Gripping his hips now
that sensations are soaring off my cock, I hold my  breath for a second
before pushing another two inches inside Pony and we both  go, "Aaaah, fuuuuck,"

and the last of it goes in with me shaking a little. Damn  this feels good.

Pony grunts, "Could you  wait a second?" He's feeling a little pain I
assume. It won't last long and  in ten-or-fifteen-seconds I can see him relax as
he sighs, "Your dick is magic,  Dylan, pure magic." I know how he feels. I
believe Pony and I have similar  rectums and ain't we lucky! Actually we are.

Pulling my boner back until half  the head is outside his ass, and me
making a "Shhhhh," sound sucking air in  between closed lips because my boner is
buzzing with pleasure. Sizzling  sensations buzz up and down my cock and I g
et that dominant sense I always get  when 'topping'. It's very cool and I
see the attraction some have to it and sort  of understand why they want to
take it higher. Pushing my cock back up his  ass it's fascinating watching it
disappear inside Pony's body and I shake with  the pleasure of it all. Pony
moans again, "Mmmmm, ooooh man, that feels  really good."

After one more  semi-slow withdrawal and push  back I begin fucking him the
way we both like it; really hard and fast. The  familiar sounds begin,
"Slapslapslapslap," accompanying by Pony's moan of sexual  pleasure. I'm
gripping his hips although I don't need to because with  him lying on the bed like
this Pony can't go anywhere. It's two  scintillating minutes with my head
back and my hips moving forward and back  six-inches at a time fucking his ass
really well and then I stop with Pony  groaning, "Wha... no.." and I begin
doing those deliberate hard  thrusts with the extra  hump when I'm all the
way in. Thrust, then a hard hump that lifts his ass a  half inch. He goes,
"Oooh!" with every final hard thrust. This is a dominant way  to fuck, almost
like the 'top' is punishing his bottom. Well it actually is  a turn-on
seeing Pony's whole body jolt at the final hard hump with him  exclaiming,
"Oooh!" as if the wind was knocked out of him.

I can feel my cock get  rock-hard doing this and it has Pony squirming and
groaning on the bed. After a  couple of minutes of that I feel my orgasm
building so it's back to hard and  fast fucking, "Slapslapslap," with Pony
humping his hips up at every  thrust, moaning, "I'm gonna cum, ooooh, oooh,
Ahhh!" as his hips hump  forward now and I suppose his long, "Oooooh," goes
along with him shooting his  creamy load on the bedspread. It's on me hot and
heavy now too and I groan  humping against his smacked butt cheeks shooting a
tantalizing long stream of  cum into his bowels. My face scrunches up and I
hump three more times  quickly with streaks of pleasure all around my groin
and the inside of my thighs. I  shake a little, then shudder as zipping last
sensations from my climax sparkle  and then fade away leaving me breathing
deeply and feeling weak. My cock feels  so good surrounded snugly in Pony's
rectum.

Leaving my cock up his  ass I untie his arms and drop the wrinkled
handkerchief on the floor near  my clothes. Using both hands I rub Pony's back as he
sighs and docilely  lies there with his arms spread out and his ass hanging
low. I go, "Ooooh,  man," and drop my hips a little to thrust in his
cream-filled ass for  another half-minute more before pulling out and sitting on
the bed  next to him. With a big inhale I lie back on the bed with my now
soft slippery  cock against the inside of my left leg feeling wet and cold. I'm
lying on one of  Pony's arms so he pulls it out from under me and lies it
across my chest,  murmuring, "That was really good. Felt so fucking good,
Dylan. Will you marry  me?" I laugh, then say, "When we first met you said you
were only partially  bisexual, but mostly straight. Remember?" His face is
towards me so I look at  him, repeating, "Remember?" He says, "Seriously, why
do you always throw that  miscalculation of mine in my face? I idolize you
and you mock me for  it."

Staring  at him for a few seconds, I say, "Hey, no fair switching from our
normal  ball-busting banter to being serious; you're not allowed to do that
without  giving me notice first. You know I was just breaking balls. If you
want to be  serious I'll tell you I'm very fond of you and will miss you a
lot during the  summer and I hope you will visit me." He grins, "Got'cha! I
wasn't being serious. I made-up  that idolizing bull-shit just to break your
balls." I go, "No, you  were serious," but I have to laugh. "You little
brat," and he goes, "Little?  We're the same size!" and he rolls over to lie his
chest on mine, saying, "It's  okay if you want to kiss me." I mumble,
"What? I don't want to kiss you,"  and he goes, "You were in my dream the other
night. We were going someplace  dressed identically, but I don't know where
we were going." I roll my eyes, "I  don't believe you." He says, "I don't
think guys should kiss but I know you  want to, so go ahead if you must." I'm
like, "I already told you I don't  want to," and he leans his head over and
kisses my lips, then grinning,  he says, "C'mon, kiss back, you prick!" We do
a really good sexy kiss and  then I kiss his forehead, saying, "I was lying
about you visiting this summer. I  do not, under any circumstances, want
you to visit." He laughs and crawls on top  go me, saying, "No, you weren't
lying the first time," and he kisses me  some more.

I get him off me and we  lie together, our naked bodies feeling good
against one another. After a few  minutes of rubbing our hands on each other, he
asks, "Can we do it again?" I  shrug, "I wish we could but it's a matter of
time." Let's see... I left the  baseball facility at three-thirty but don't
know how long I've been  here. Looking at my watch, I go, "It's four-twenty
and baseball  practice usual lasts two-to-three hours. Closer to three
usually, so we might  have time if my balls are able to manufacture some spunk.

Hey, do you want to  try fucking me for a change?" He shakes his head, "No
thanks, I wouldn't feel  right doing that with you. I like you being the top.

You're older and much more  experienced and it, um, makes me feel special
that you want to fuck my ass. I  guess I'm a committed 'bottom' for life." I
go, "You and I are a lot alike,  Daryl." He says, "Call me Pony! Daryl is what
professors and parents call me." I  go, "Huh, I was thinking of insisting
that you call me Mister Newman." He  goes, "Don't hold your breath. Didn't
you ever have a nickname?" I shake my  head, "No, I never did. My brother has
one though; it's Chubby." He's like, "No  shit! I've only heard you call him
that a thousand times. By the way, your  brother's almost as cool as you
are." I go, "He's way cooler than  me."

Pony puts his face  against the side of mine and does a noisy inhale, then
says, "You smell amazing.  I love the way you smell. Remember when we ran
together and then we'd  work-up more of a sweat in the fitness center?" I go,
"No, I have absolutely no  recollection of that." He ignores my lie, saying,
"That's when you smelled  the best. I almost creamed in my jeans at how
sexy you smelled. I think I've got  a thing for you." I mumble, "That's very
flattering but you smell good too." He  goes, "Do you almost cream your jeans
smelling me?" I go, "Ha! No, I can't say  that I do." He goes, "For fucks
sake, you could lie to make me feel  good." I'm like, "Oh, I forgot. Yeah, I'm
always almost creaming in my jeans  around you. I think it's because of the
way you smell or it could be because you  have the most awesome haircuts I
think I've ever seen." He takes a deep breath  and mutters, "You're crazy,
you know that?"

Getting off the bed I  say, "Well this crazy person need to take a wicked
piss," and I start getting  dressed. Pony says, "You can piss in my mouth." I
go, "No, I can't!" He'd  probably let me too. He says, "I've seen that
online like fifty times. It's so  fucking sexy letting someone piss in your
mouth." I go, "No, it isn't." He gets  up and starts getting dressed too,
asking, "Will you go with me tomorrow to hold  my hand while I get my nipple
pierced?" I give him a look, then say, "Yes, I  will." He frowns, "Really? You're
going to let me suffer like that?" I go, "I'm  sick of you asking me to go
with you so I'm calling your bluff." He reaches over  and lifts my nip ring,
"This is so fucking cool though. So, you'll come with me  Saturday
morning?" I go, "I said I would, didn't I?" He goes, "Good, thanks!  What time?" I
ask, "Do you even know where to go?" He says, "Yeah. Ed's Heritage  Tattoo &
Body Piercing Parlor. It's on route 28 in Salem. That's  fifteen minutes
from here." I go, "Oh man, do you even know how much it's gonna  hurt? It hurts
like hell!" He shrugs, "You got one so I'm gonna get one too."  Shaking my
head, I say, "I strongly warn you against doing that but if you  insist I
will go with you to check the place out at least. There's sanitation
considerations." He jumped twice like a four-year-old, yelling,  "You'll go with me!
Thank you! Thank you!" Oh brother!
We go to the dorm's  lavatory where two guys are showering and doing some
ass-grabbing and laughing  like two twelve-year-old girls. There's a guy
shaving at the sink  too, who says, "Ponti, how they hanging." Pony says, "Oh,
'sup, Frank?"  Frank goes, "You going to that party on Main Street tonight? I
need a ride."  Pony says, "My roommate took his car for the weekend." Frank
mutters, "What the  fuck good are you then!" I'd like to kick him in the
balls! Instead I take a  piss at the furthest urinal from the sinks. Pony
stands right next to me,  saying, "Don't look over, Dylan. I can't get started
if anyone is looking at  me." I go, "Well why the fuck did you take the
urinal right next to me then?"  Frank calls over, "Hey, Ponti, can you let me
have twenty bucks until next  Wednesday when my 'rents put some money in my
debit  account?"

Frank looks a little  like a hedgehog. Stocky body with a smart-ass
superior tone to his voice.  Typical bully type and I despise bullies. Pony says,
"I'm sorry Frank but  I'm down to my last twenty-five dollars myself."

Frank's drying his  hands and face after washing the shaving cream remnants off
his face,  saying, "So lend me the twenty and you'll have five-bucks left,  ya
toad. What's the big deal? Or would you rather I continue giving you
wedgies every time I see you?" I tap Frank's shoulder and say, "Are you  hard of
fuckin' hearing, Frank? He just said he doesn't have the money  to lend you
and even if he did he wouldn't." Frank goes, "Well who the fuck do  you
think you are?" I go, "I'm the guy who just told you he's not lending you  any
fucking money. You can walk to the party broke for all we give a shit." He
puts his shaving stuff in a plastic bag, muttering, "Jesus, I just asked
him. You don't need to have a shit-fit over it," and he leaves muttering under
his breath. Pony looks at me for a second, then says, "Frank's the dorm
bully."  I go, "Well fuck him if he can't take joke." Then I'm like, "Hey, if
you only  have twenty-five dollars how do you expect to pay for getting your
fucking  nipple pierced, and the jewelry to go in the piercing?" He goes, "I
only have  twenty-five dollars on me but I've got almost three-hundred in
my debit  account." I go, "Oh, too bad."

We walk back to  Pony's room with him looking around, saying, "Now Frank
will kick my ass  the next time he sees me." I go, "No, he won't!" Inside Pony
says, "My  hero," and I go, "Are you serious with the Ed's Heritage
thing-a-ma-gig  piercing?" He nods, "Can you pick me up at ten in the morning?"

Making a 'face',  I mutter, "I guess, but I wish you'd change your mind." He
puts both his  hands behind my neck, "I'm not changing my mind and I'll feel
safe with  you there." I pull his hands away, "Me being there isn't going to
make it  hurt any less." We argue about the nip ring for a while and then
get Cokes  from the downstairs vending machine and drink them outside having a
smoke.  Naturally Pony bums one off me. Out of the blue, he says, "I wish
we could  live together." The serious way he says things like that makes me
laugh and  then cough as exhaling smoke catches in my throat. He goes,
"What...?" I'm  shaking my head coughing again as he says, "I know we can't live
together. I  just wish we could. I know you like fucking me so don't lie and
say you don't.  It'd be the coolest thing sleeping with you. Plus you always
know just the right  thing to do no matter what the situation is. I
wouldn't need to worry about  anything 'cause I'd just look to you for what needs
to be said or done." Jesus,  who does he sound like?
I go, "Don't say  outrageous things when I'm smoking, okay?" He shrugs,
"What's outrageous? If you  hadn't met Rob, who is a great guy I admit that,
you and I could be a couple." I  say, "Without anyone else in the world
knowing about it, right?" He goes,  "Hell yes! I'm not nearly ready to come 'out'
to anyone except you." I say,  "Well your logic is impeccable. Yeah, that
would work. What could possibly go  wrong?" He goes, "I'm just saying if you
hadn't met Rob first." I go, "Uh  huh."

Later we go inside and,  with him dropping his pants and me taking my dick
out through the fly of my  jeans, he sucks a hard-on for me and I fuck him
really hard. We both have  tiny ejaculations but like always it feels awesome
anyway. We lie on the bed  afterwards with Pony describing how he and I
could be a gay  couple without anyone being the wiser. I laugh every ten
seconds at the  details he thinks would work-out and he's like, "Why do you keep
laughing?  I'm serious! It definitely could work if Rob gets hit by a bus or
something."

Rob doesn't get hit by  a bus or something and instead I receive a text at
quarter-to-six asking me  to pick him up. Oddly the text is from Danny
Monday though, so I don't know what  that's all about. It would be wildly out of
character for Rob to tell Danny,  "Shoot Dylan a text that I'm ready to be
picked-up' or anything along those  lines, like Danny's Rob's  assistant. No,
that wouldn't be like either one of them. More likely Rob's  cellphone
needs charging and he used Danny's.

After promising Pony  I'll be over to get him at ten o'clock tomorrow
morning we do a hug and I'm on  my way. How the hell am I going to handle Pony's
piercing situation? I'm  not his parent or even a brother but I feel I need
to dissuade him from doing  this. If I don't go with him though I'm afraid
he'll get his roommate, Tom  Higgins, to drive him some other time and
neither of them will have the sense to change their  mind if the place isn't
sanitary. Ed's Heritage-whatever on route 28 doesn't  sound like a sterile clinic
to me...

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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