Date: Sun, 10 Aug 2014 20:57:38 -0400 (EDT) From: MGTBILL@aol.com Subject: DYLAN'S SUMMER VACATION TWO Chapter 92 DYLAN'S SUMMER VACATION TWO Chapter 92 by Donny Mumford After some really good sex, Willie and I called it a night, but not before he gets this crazy idea of us going to sleep with his hard cock up my ass. It sounded like a good idea at the time, and we did that once or twice in Key West so, you know. Anyway, we got on our sides and he slid his cock up my ass and then held us together with an arm over my side. It felt good, but I'm not sure how long he maintained his boner before it went flaccid, or even how long his cock stayed up my ass because I fell asleep quickly. Now it's hours later and I've opened my eyes just in time to watch the sunrise. We're not on our sides now and his cock isn't up my ass. He's still sleeping so I roll against him and run my fingers through his short hair thinking how much better he looks with hair. The bald look wasn't a flattering one for Willie, not that it is for anyone actually. Laying on my stomach with my arm across his chest, I'm feeling seriously attracted to him again. Hmmm, I didn't expect to wake up still feeling the hot's for Willie like I had last evening. Damn, this is a very puzzling development. Before I can analyze the situation further I go back to sleep. The next thing I'm aware of his Willie quietly saying, "Dylan, Dylan, are you awake?" I open my eyes and see his face hovering above me. Somehow I'm on my back again. He's got a mischievous grin on his lips, "Would you like an early morning fuck, baby?" Glancing at my watch I see it's only a little after seven o'clock in the morning. That's awfully early, but I nod my head. He giggles, mumbling, "I thought you might, you sex pot." Willie rolls me over onto my stomach and gets between my legs with his boner poking my buttocks a few times as he spreads my legs. Huh, he's already got a boner so he either woke up with it or he's been playing with himself. Willie's has a little trouble getting his early morning boner up my ass in this position, so he says, "Get your ass up, baby" and then, "SMACK! SMACK!" on my ass. I quickly stick my spanked ass up high. It's stinging from the quick spanking and Willie's now squeezing my butt cheeks, muttering, "That's better, keep that pussy of yours held high for me." A submissive sense begins descending over me making me smile as I savor the sensation. Willie gets the head of his cock past my sphincter muscle with a slight hump of his hips. It burns some so I hold my breath waiting for it to pass and it fades away quickly. He rubs his hands on my back, then down my sides, murmuring, "I got ya now, babe, don't I?" Willie's sounding confident and in-charge again, which I have a difficult time resisting. A moan of submissiveness slides out of my throat, then I take a deep breath loving this developing situation. He begins sliding the long shaft of his boner slowly inside me and I quietly moan at the awesome filled-up feeling in my rectum. Damn, it's a tight fit this morning, and made tighter because the girth of his cock increases now that it's going snugly up my ass. Willie mutters, "Tight pussy this morning, baby, but I'll open it up for ya, don't you worry about that." The last of his cock disappears inside me and now Willie leans against my buttocks. I'm surprised to notice all of a sudden that my rectum's sore. It's different from the burning I felt a minute ago. I guess I shouldn't be surprised it's sore though, Willie fucked me three times last night and the last one was a hard fuck that went on for quite a while. It's just that I didn't notice I was sore until now. Normally I'm sore right after a couple of hard fucks, and then the next day it's all better. Well, I didn't do any walking after our last fuck so maybe that's why I didn't notice it was sore, and of course, I did go to sleep with Willie's boner in my ass. Ah ha, that's the culprit right there! That's why I'm sore, but it's not so sore I can't enjoy this morning's sex, although I'll probably be sorry by the time Willie's done with my pussy. Oh well, like he said, he's got me where he wants me now. No way is he pulling his cock out of me until he has a hot orgasm so I'll enjoy the ride as much as I can. Willie withdraws his thickening cock and slides it tightly right back in. He blows out air, muttering, "Tight pussy alright," and then he pulls it back and slides it in again. He gives my ass a hard slap, "SMACK!" and then gets going with steady thrusts. Along with my grunts all I hear now is the ,"Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap," of Willie's crotch slamming into my ass. He's fucking me fast and hard like he did late last night, "Slap, slap, slap, slap," with me moaning, "Ohh, ooh, oh, aah, ooh." Willie scent is wafting around me. It's so sexy being fucked this good and that's true even though I'm sore as hell down there by now. Willie going at it wildly like he hasn't had sex in a month. I squirm under him with fantastic sensations of sexual pleasure easily overriding the hurt, but it's different than pure pleasure. Oh man, I love getting fucked and how did I ever forget how awesome Willie and his nine inch boner are at this particular sex act. God, it feels good and another long moan slips from my throat, "Mmmmm, ooooh, oooh, mmmm, yeah, Willie, fuck me." It's a good ten or twelve minutes of, "Slap, slap, slap, slap," fast and hard with Willie grunting now and drops of sweat flying off his face as he works up perspiration. Then he stops with his cock half inside me. He gets a hand on each of my hips and lifts my ass up off the mattress, saying, "Keep your pussy up for me, Dylan, please. How many time do I need to tell you that?" My cock is so hard under me the skin is stretched, nearly splitting and the whole organ bulges with seminal fluid, the head shiny with dripping precum. Morning boners are the hardest boners of the day. I mutter, "Sorry, Willie, I'll keep my pussy up. It feels so good. Mmmm, ooh, you fuck me so good." Satisfied I'm doing what he says, Willie slides his cock the rest of the way up my ass, then leaves it there, and says, "With you, Dylan, it's easy to be a good sex partner. You're so sexy and your ass-pussy is perfect for fucking. The best my cock has ever been in and there's not even a close second." He pulls his cock back, then says, "I'm gonna really hammer it now and fuck a good orgasm out of you." To be sure I keep my ass up he holds my hips helping me do that, and then begins a very fast rabbit fuck that gets me moaning and squirming on the bed like I haven't felt the need to do for a long time. A hefty nine inch cock sliding back and forth in my ass just the right way is a sexual experience I'm going to probably want to be part of again the first chance I get. "Slap, slap, slap, slap," rings in my ears as the scent of sex mingles with Willie's scent and it's got my heads moving back and forth on the mattress with me moaning embarrassingly, and almost delirious with sexual pleasure sensations that actually seem intensified by the background of pain from an extremely sore rectum and tender anus. I feel my orgasm coming on now and I try blocking out the soreness in my rectum and concentrate on the impending explosion of pleasure. The lips of my asshole feel hot, raw, and over stimulated. Willie's moaning constantly as he drives his boner back and forth in my ass slamming into my buttocks with every thrust, "Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap," and the pleasure overtakes the hurt again as I moan in a sea of sexual pleasure, "Mmmm, mmm, um, um, um, ooh Willie, mmm, ooh, ooh, ooh." Willie's breathing hard and fucking fast, then he grunts, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming, oh my God it's gonna feel so good, aah, aah, aah...." With my mouth wide open I squeal loudly shooting a hot stream of creamy cum on the sheets with my shoulders shuddering and my body shaking. Another squeal as short fast spurts of cum shoot out following the first stream. Each spurt of cum creating incredible sensations on my cock, awesome almost painful stabs of deep sexual pleasure that spread out around my pelvic area and up to my stomach and down to the inside of my thighs. Willie keeps pile driving his nine inches of wood up my ass while I'm savoring the sensations twirling around my body, dizzy with it, but it feels so damn incredibly good too. Willie goes, "Eeee, mmm," holding his groin against my ass firing cum inside me. It's warm and slippery as he gasps, "Holy shit that felt good," then another hump against me and a desperate whine from Willie as he shoots a few more shots of cum in my rectum. I feel him shaking and gasping. Easily the longest fuck of our date. Actually, the frequency of our fucking over the past twelve hours has been just about perfect. He falls on my back rubbing his nose back and forth at the back of my head. Out of breath, he mutters, "You smell so sexy, Dylan." Then he lays on me with sweat dripping from him to me. He kisses the side of my face, then rolls off me with his cock pulling out, and now the soreness is very obvious. My rectum hurts, period, and ditto for my asshole. Willie snuggles against me kissing me again, muttering, "I'm fucking exhausted. Need more sleep." I'm laying in my own spunk and not at all sure what time we went to sleep last night, but we both fall back to sleep in short order this morning, sore ass or not. The next time I wake up Willie's not in bed and sun is streaming through the bedroom windows. I roll over then feel my ass with both hands. It hurts inside and my anus lips feel swollen and sore, and to make matters worse I need to take a crap. Sarcastically, I think, 'That's just great!'. I hear the shower running as I get out of bed and stretch. Then, taking little steps, I walk almost bowlegged to the bathroom. Goddammit! I hate walking like a geek, but I need to minimize the movement of my ass as much as possible. In the bathroom the glass shower walls are all steamed up. Willie's inside singing a song I don't recognize. He seems in great spirits. Sitting on the toilet isn't pleasant and neither is it pleasant when the reason I'm sitting there happens, but then with some, "Ow, ow ow, ow," my mission is accomplished. I gently clean my ass using first soft toilet paper and then a warm wet washcloth that I hold against my anus. Grabbing a fresh washcloth I clean drooling cum from the inside of my thighs, sighing as I'm resigning myself to deal with a very sore ass for awhile. I wash my hands, then my face and look in the mirror. Okay, maybe we over did it, but I loved it. The shower turns off as I'm brushing my teeth using Willie's toothbrush. He comes out of the shower stall smiling, and as he grabs a towel to dry himself, he laughs, "My dick's so fucking sore, Dylan, you wouldn't believe it." He said that as if a sore dick is the funniest thing ever. He looks proud to have a sore cock which strikes me as funny. Chuckling, I mumble, "Sex maniac." I glance at him in the mirror, then say, "You poor, baby, I hope your dick feels better soon. Don't give a thought that I just had the most painful dump in the history of the world, or that you fucked me so hard and so often I'm walking bowlegged again with my ass protruding like a geek from a side show." He chuckles, "Ah, walking bowlegged is always an indicator of a good evening of sex. I feel bad for you, but how 'bout my poor dick. Just look at it." I look down and it looks perfectly fine to me, so I mutter, "It doesn't look sore," and he's like, "Neither does your ass." He's drying himself, saying, "We slept in your semen from our sex last night, babe, it was all over me." I say, "Look at my back, it's your dried spunk from when you blew your load on my back. It itches, and yeah, mine is dried on my chest and stomach too." He goes, "Not for nothing, but I wouldn't change a thing about last night or this morning." I mutter, "Neither would I, but what does 'not for nothing' mean?" Willie gently pats my ass, muttering, "I have no idea," and he takes the electric toothbrush from me and brushes his teeth as I rinse out. I go, "Can't wait to get in that shower," walking with my legs spread and my ass sticking out to the shower stall, I turn on the water, and step under the strong flows of warn water coming from all five shower heads. Awesome! When clean and dry I find that Willie's gotten dressed sitting at his desk checking emails. He goes, "This guy, Mark, from Cornell sent me the first weeks schedule at Cornell. It looks like we'll have a lot of free time. Freshman registration is next week and we'll be the only students on campus until Thursday. Looks like mostly lectures bringing us up to speed about what we need to do and what we can expect during our first semester." Huh, I remember my first week at college and how lost us freshman were for a while. It was exciting, but a bit of a pain in the ass at the same time. He turns around, "I laid out clean clothes for you on the bed, Dylan." Glancing over I see them so I go over and pull on Willie's underwear. Sexy! The pleated shorts and button up the front short sleeve shirt are clothes I'd wear for a special occasions, not to goof off in all day. I put them on without a fuss though and underneath the shirt is a black woven leather bracelet with a silver clasp. "What's this, Willie?" He goes, "Oh, it goes with the shirt." I'm like, "No presents, Willie," and he goes, "Throw it out if you don't want it because I don't want it either. It's a John Hardy bracelet by the way." I look at it, wondering who John Hardy is. Then I put the bracelet on and I gotta admit it's fucking cool, so I mutter, "Okay, thanks Willie, I think it's cool." He shrugs while I'm thinking, 'how much could it cost?' A thin leather bracelet, ya know? Probably imitation leather. This little thing doesn't qualify as an expensive gift. Looking at it on my wrist though, and yeah, it's damn cool. At ten thirty in the morning we walk into the same large kitchen where we had the sodas last night, which seems like a long time ago now. Willie always packs a lot of activities and sex into our dates. I can't believe I forgot about the good parts of dating him. Willie says, "Good morning, chef Diez. You remember my boyfriend, Dylan Newman, I'm sure." The chef says, "Of course I do, who could forget a handsome lad like Dylan. How are you, Dylan." I say, "Very well, thank you." Willies like, "Chef, how about some eggs benedict this morning." The chef says, "Coming right up," and Willie asks, "Okay if we eat in here?" The chef begins making hollandaise sauce, "Of course, Willie, help yourself to coffee. Your mother and father ate earlier and are out already. They said they're meeting the Boltons for tennis at the club." Willie's like, "Oh, yeah? How were they this morning?" Chef says, "Good. Very cheerful." Huh, they're apparently getting along a lot better than the last time I was here. I'm happy for Willie. Willie pours us coffees, and as I'm putting four sugars in mine he gets cream and orange juice from the refrigerator. We drink the juice first and then the chef cuts us slices of a French pastry he made this morning. We eat that while drinking our c offees, as Willie tells me. "While you were showering I made an appointment with a professional body piercer. He specializes in all types of piercing's, but nipple rings for both male and females are the ones he does the most. I'm paying extra because, heeding your warning about how painful it can be, I opted for numbing the area before piercing. This guy is a also doctor who does cosmetic surgery as well as the body piercing. He's way expensive, but he takes credit cards so I'm good to go." I say, "I wasn't given the option of Novocain." Willie shrugs, "Sorry to hear that. I don't know if he'll use Novocain or something else, and I don't care either. Just as long as I don't feel the needle pierce my awesome nipple in any significant way, I'll be happy. I know it'll be sore for weeks, but then I'll have a cool nip ring like yours." I shrug, "That's a bad reason to get something, Willie. Just because someone else has, um, a nip ring or whatever." He goes, "I emulate guys who are cooler than me in my never ending uphill battle to someday be cool myself." I mutter, "Oh brother, that's a good one." Along with our eggs benedict, which are served on Canadian bacon and halves of English muffins, chef serves us home fries. Honestly speaking, it's one of the best breakfasts I've ever eaten and the chef threw it together in ten minutes including fresh made hollandaise sauce from scratch. When we're done I thank and compliment the chef and he politely replies, "You're very welcome, Dylan, don't be a stranger," then to Willie, "See how Dylan reacts to my cooking?" Willie says, "I compliment you all the time, chef." Then both of them make a face at each other like they've been through this routine fifty times. The chef, who appears to like Willie, says, "Enjoy yourselves, boys. Enjoy your youth." On our way to the car, with Willie holding my hand and me walking like a geek, he says, "We have time to get your haircut before my piercing appointment. Remember, we're doing this as part of our sub/dom routine, so let me do all the talking. I went on line to LambdaBusiness.com where they list gay businesses so gays can support other gays in the community. I found a barbershop in Framingham run by a gay barber. He doesn't just have gay customers, of course, but we'll try him anyway." Inside the car he programs the barbershop's address into his GPS and we take off. I don't really want to do this, but Willie's being so good during our date so I'll do it if I have to, but first I say, "I'm not really feeling a haircut this morning. How about we do it another time, and anyway I don't really need a haircut." He looks at me and reaches over pinching hair just above my ear, saying, "The hair reaches over the top of your ear and it's not cut evenly. The sides are half as long as the top hairs so it looks funny, like you have a pancake on top of your head. I didn't want to hurt your feeling by mentioning it to you, instead I decided I'll get it fixed. I'm sure you don't want to start your college year looking like that." Huh! I thought the haircut from Sonny was cool, but I see Willie's point too. Plus, I can't say no to him when I've still got the hot's for him like I do. I reach over and squeeze his shoulder. He looks at me, "What?" and I go, "Oh, nothing. I just felt like squeezing your shoulder, that's all." And I do it again. Willie grins at me. We find the barbershop and then we find a parking spot on the same side of the street a mere block away. Willie parks, then says, "Come on," so I reluctantly get out. Willie's takes my hand to hold as we walk down the sidewalk. He tells me, "Remember, you keep your trap shut, I'll do the talking," then leads me into the barbershop at the same time a man with a boy, who's probably ten or eleven years old, is talking to the barber. The boy has an amazing head of wavy red hair that he's absently playing with. The barber, an older man, pats the seat of the barber chair, saying, "Up you go, son." Willie and I sit down as the boy gives the barber a dirty look and then slowly gets in the chair. The boy's father tells the barber, "Richard, my boy, Sandy, needs a back to school haircut. He's getting a burr haircut this time. He had his way and grew his hair out all summer and now I'm sick and tired of looking at him with his ragamuffin appearance, so it's my turn to have my way. He's not starting middle school looking like this if I have anything to say about it." Oh, okay, the kids twelve years old if he going into middle school. The boy's frowning at his father and then defiantly folds his arms across his chest pouting and slumping in the chair, but he doesn't say anything. If looks could kill though, his old man's a dead duck. The barber holds his thumb and index finger about a half inch apart, asking the man, "Like this?" The man says, "Yeah, like that on top, but closer on the sides and back." The old barber nods his head and puts a tissue strip around the boy's neck, and then a cape around the kid. He gets the clippers and runs them up the side of the kid's head and a huge bundle of long red wavy hair slides down the cape leaving a path behind that looks like it's down to the scalp. The kid's father is looking at a magazine paying no attention to the haircut. Willie, sitting next to me, is doing the same thing. He's reading a men's magazine paying no attention to anything else. I'm fascinated by the amount of hair coming off the kid's head. He's not a particularly attractive boy, a little pudgy with too many large freckles and a nose that's two big for his face. He probably hasn't got too far into puberty yet, and maybe he hasn't even started, because his skin is totally blemish free. The barber continues shearing hair from the poor kid's head with an expression on the boy's face half anger and half pathetic. The barber begins cutting tons of hair off the top and when he finishes the hair's a normal length for a typical burr haircut. Earlier it looked to me like the hair was down to the scalp on the sides and back, but that was compared to the long hairs on top. Now that it's all cut in proportion I can see there's some short hairs remaining on the sides, especially now that Richard's using the trimmer clippers around the kid's ears. He seems like a pretty good barber. Taking the cape off the boys neck, Richard uses a brush getting the clipped hairs off. He rubs the kid's crisp hair, takes the cape off his lap, and dumps a pile of red hair on the floor chuckling. Then, with his hand on the kid's head, he says to the father, "All done, dad." The boy jerks his head away from the barber's hand and jumps out of the chair. The father looks up, and says, "Well, now I have a son instead of a daughter. Thank's Richard." As he's paying, the kid stomps past him muttering, "I hate you," and he goes out the door with tears in his eyes. I feel really bad for him because he's got an asshole for a father. There's plenty of haircut compromises between the extremes of the mop top and this very short burr haircut. As the man walks out after his son, two young men walk in and greet the barber sounding, well, they sound gay. I say that at the risk of stereotyping gays. Now the barber sounds gay himself returning the greeting. Guess he has two ways of speaking. Willie stands and takes my hand leading me over to the barber as the other two customers sit down whispering about something, then giggling. They're probably laughing at me being led to the barber by my hand, but they're not my type anyway, so fuck 'em. Willie tells the barber, "I want my boy here to have an eight of an inch buzz with a shaved outline around his entire hairline." Richard pats the seat, saying, "Up ya go, boy." I look at him while smelling the back of my wrist standing here not wanting to do this. Willie lets go of my hand and slaps my ass. I yelp as Willie says, "Get in the fucking chair, Dylan." I get in the chair trying not to pout like the twelve year old. I'm thinking that the haircut Willie described for the barber is the same haircut Willie got for me in Key West. Before Key West he insisted we both get flattops, but Willie reserves the right to change his mind. He asks, "Can you use a straight razor for the detailing?" The barber says, "Of course. Do you want just the outlining or would you like me to shave a part in along the side here," as he runs his fingernail along the top of the left side of my head. Willie says, "I don't know about that yet. I'll see what I think when the haircuts finished." Richard says, "You got it, boss," then to me, "Sit up straight." This is another deje vu experience all over again for me. Richard wraps a tissue strip around my neck, then the cape wraps around me. I want to say something, to object or complain, but I don't. I'm not sure why, I just don't. Willie's talking to the two gay guys about something. >From Willie I hear him mention Key West and my name, but not much else. The barber asks, "Was this a home haircut you got last time, son? Did your mom cut it maybe?" I blush, mumbling, "Um, no, I mean, I guess." He says, "Your boyfriend's looking out for you because this home haircut looks silly." My blush deepens because I thought it looked cool at first, now I'm glad Sonny's not giving me another haircut. The guys at college might have something smart-ass to say about Sonny's haircutting, but other guys said it looked cool too, so I don't know what to think. Richard rubs his hands on my shoulders, "You're very good looking aren't you? How old are you?" His hand is holding the back of my neck now and his face is very close to the side of mine. He's making me very uncomfortable. I gulp, muttering, "Um, I just turned twenty." His hand squeezes the back of my neck, as he says, "Twenty? Don't lie to me, son. How old are you really?" His face is still close to my left cheek and he's wearing a strange smelling cologne and chewing gum. He makes mouth noises in my ear as he breaths noisily through his nose and wetly chews the gum. He's so confident of himself, but who the fuck acts like this? I kinda freeze-up, so he says, "I asked you a question, boy. You don't want me telling your boyfriend you've been lying to me, do ya?" If I move my face the slightest bit my cheek will collide with his nose. I swallow hard, "No, really, I'm twenty. Can you start the haircut, please." He straightens up and begins combing through my hair, saying over his shoulder, "Excuse me, but your boy here tells me he's twenty years old. What's his real age, maybe I'll only need to charge for a boy's haircut." All three of the guys laugh. Willie comes over and says to me, "Why are you lying to Mister Richard?" then to Richard, "He's twelve." Willie pats the barber on the arm smirking like they're a couple of hot shit's having a little fun breaking my balls. The barber smirks at me and then pats the side of my face, saying, "Don't pout. You're too old for that." I want to shout, "You old fuck, I'm not pouting!" but of course I don't. I want to get this over with as quickly and with as little conversation between Richard and me as possible. Willie goes back to his talking with the two gay guys, his back to us. Richard says to me, "I'm just having some fun teasing you. What's your boyfriend's name?" Before I can answer he has my chin in his hand moving my head to the right and then the left looking at something on my head. Still holding my chin, he says, "Cat got your tongue? I asked you what your boyfriends name is." I frown, unable to look him in the eyes. He shakes my head a bit, disgusted with me I guess, but I managed to mutter, "Willie." Ruffling my hair roughly, he whispers with fake amazement, "Ah, he speaks," then with his hand on top of my head he calls over to Willie. "Excuse me, Willie, I've got a suggestion. Come here a second." Willie looks interested as he gets up and walks over, "What have ya got for me, Richard?" The barber points to a model in a picture on the wall, saying, "A fade haircut, like that one. That's what this cutie will look hot with. I'll use the trimmer clippers on the sides, pretty much down to the scalp, but only half way up the side, and the same for the back, and then faded the hairs a little bit longer the further up the side and back I go. I'll do the top shorter than in the picture, but not as short as you said you wanted it." They discuss my haircut as I sink further into a submissive state. It feels good in this trance and the barber's mouth noises as he noisily chews his gum doesn't faze me anymore. They haggle over the length my hair will be on top until the other two guys call out, "Today, Richard, finish the kid's haircut sometime today." Richards calls over to the guys, "Patience! I'll take time to get your haircuts right too. I needed to see what this guy wants for his boy." One of the guys dismissively waves at Richard, as Willie goes, "Okay, whatever you decide, your the pro here." Willie goes back to resume conversing with the two gay guys, and they lisp comments back at him. They're apparently interested in Willie's and my relationship. The barber seems mostly interested in me. He grips my bicep through the cape, then goes, "Oh, nice biceps. Hey, don't pull away! I just talked your dom into a better haircut than he had in mind for you. You should thank me." He's standing right next to me with his thigh against mine, and while still gripping my arm he points at the picture on the wall, and asks, "What do you think? Pretty sweet, huh?" I gasp, "Un huh," and he chuckles letting go of my arm and rubbing my head again, muttering, "You're cute as a button. It's Dylan, right? You'll look even hotter for your boyfriend with that haircut. How long have you been his boy?" I don't answer so Richard chuckles again for some reason. Fuck him. You'd think it would have occurred to one of them to ask me what I wanted for a haircut, but on the same token you might expect me to simply speak up. I can't though because somehow this experience has dominated me completely and I like the submissive trance I find myself in too much to risk shattering it. Anyway, the fade haircut is, in fact, super cool. I couldn't cut hair in a fade though. It requires quite a lot of clipper technique that I simply can't duplicate. The barber begins using regular clippers with a low numbered guide taking the hair on the sides and back down close and then he gets another clipper to take it down even more. shit, I've never had a haircut with so much clipper work going on for so long. I'm observing the way he's doing it by watching him work on my haircut in the mirror. I don't believe I've ever had hair that's been cut this short on the sides. After I say that he uses the trimmer chippers half way up the sides taking the already short hair down to the scalp. So the twelve year old kid didn't actually have his hair taken down to the scalp like I thought at first, but now I'm the one who can claim that distinction. Even so, when Richard's done it's the coolest haircut I've ever had, and it looks good on me too. It's not like I haven't seen guys with this type haircut because I have, but I think this dink of a barber is more talented than the barber the other guys went to. Richard takes the strip of tissue from around my neck and drapes the cape doubled over in my lap. Then he uses a brush on the back of my neck and across my forehead. He takes the cape off and shakes the hair onto the floor where blond hairs joins the pile of red hairs. I start sliding out of the seat, but he puts his arm across my chest, saying, "Whoa there, twinkie. You're haircuts not done." I look at him defiantly, and he sternly says, "Sit back down! I'll tell you when I'm done," and I feel my dick shrivel instead of firming up. That occupies my mind as I sit back making sure I'm sitting straight with my shoulders back. Did my cock shrivel up because the old barber's being stupidly stern with me, and I'm the customer and therefore not expecting his stern treatment? I became submissive to him in either case, but that usually gives me a boner. He's also been doing inappropriate touching, but he's repugnant to me so instead of arousing me the reverse occurred. Normally dominant behavior gets me aroused, but I don't feel sexually aroused by this man at all. Funny combination of reactions that I don't recall experiencing before this. Richard puts a small towel across my shoulders and wipes warm shaving cream around my ears and across the back of my neck. With a straight razor he shaves a barely visible outline around my ear, then drags the razor at my neck's hairline in back giving me chills and making my shoulders shudder. After my other ear has been outlined, he drags shaving lather across the hairline at my forehead and etches an outline across there. Using the little towel, he wipes off excess shaving cream and then picks up a bottle of after shave lotion and drips some in his hand rubbing his hands together. With a hand on each side of my head he drags his hands along my head until they meet in the middle at the back of my neck. Lastly he drips more lotion on his hand and uses both hands to rub up my forehead into my quarter inch hair, which is all that's left of my bangs. The after shave lotion smells good, but stings a little on the shaved areas. He gets a hairbrush and brushes my hair on top until my scalp tingles. With a hand on each of my shoulder he calls over to Willie, "Okay, boss, we need your approval." Willie walks over and checks around my head, then says, "I like it, Richard, good job." Richard says, "Your boy has wonderful hair to cut," and with his hand under my chin, holding my head up, he adds, "You've got a beauty here, boss. Congratulation." Willie gives Richard a disapproving look, probably because the barber is much too touchy/feely with me. Taking my hand and pulling me up, Willie goes, "Come on, Dylan, get down from there." I get out of the chair smirking at the barber, stupidly thinking, 'Willie's here, so just try some of your dominant shit now." Then, shaking my head, I'm pissed at myself because I don't need Willie sticking up for me. Damn, that submissive stuff can be humiliating when brought on by a stranger. This was nearly as bad as the last time Willie took me for a haircut... almost, but not quite. That time I regressed in age and was in a deep, deep submissive trance. Still, thinking about my behavior and knowing it's been embarrassingly inappropriate, I don't dare catch one of the other gay guy's eyes, or the barber's. I look down as Willie pays. I'm concentrating on the positive, which is this cool haircut. All's well that ends well. That's not always true, of course, but it sounds good. Finally we're out of the barbershop walking towards the car with my rear end finally feeling a little better. Willie's got his arm around my neck, so my arm automatically goes around his waist. Pulling my head over he kisses the side of my forehead, saying, "Oooh, you smell good!" meaning the after shave I suppose because that's all I can smell. He asks, "How do you like the fade haircut?" He was obviously oblivious to the barber's behavior with me in the barber chair, so I try clearing it from my mind. I'll never again see any of the people in that barbershop again, except Willie. He didn't see me sitting there like a nerd letting the old guy maul me. I say, "I seriously think this haircut is awesome." He goes, "Me too. How do you think it would look on me?" I shrug, hugging his waist, then say, "You'd look good with any hair style." He mutters, Thanks, babe," and kisses my lips right in front of three teenage boys who are loitering in front of a sub shop. One of them goes, "Euuu, gross me out," but I'm thinking Willie didn't even hear him. Much of the time Willie hears what he wants to and the rest is just noise blowing in the wind as far as he's concerned. Willie's mood last night and today has been the happiest and most carefree I can ever remember seeing from him. That makes it relaxing for me too, although I miss the submissive sensations the old Willie and his outlandish behavior would routinely create in me. Those random trances were mostly unintentional on his part, but my dick used to enjoy the moments quite a bit. The new Willie is a much better version although lacking most of the dominance he used to exhibit routinely. Do I prefer the old Willie or the new? He was the first boyfriend who put me into delicious submissive trances, but there was a price I needed to pay for that. He'd do crazy things that created humiliating circumstances for me along the way to my submissive trances. It wasn't intentional on his part, as I've said, he was just being his normal narcissistic self. He's different now being more considerate and nicer. He still wants to be in charge, but without being as self centered as he used to be which eliminates a lot of his dominance. Many of the things that used to embarrass the shit out of me in public, I now do without thinking about it one way or the other. Things like the way we're walking right now, or someone holding my hand in a restaurant, or calling my ass a pussy. They don't bother me because over the years Willie's desensitized me to that sort of thing. Desensitized me to what strangers might think about me and that allows me to be myself and to hell with them. I, in turn, have desensitized Robby to those types of things and we're happier gay lovers because of it, so I owe Willie for that. During the ride to his piercing appointment Willie reminisces happily about our date last night and this morning and the four sexual episodes we packed into it. I mostly listen while thinking that this date has caught me up on missed sex during the past week and only Willie is able to do that.. well, Ryan could too. There were submissive moments on this date, but only about a fourth of what I would have experienced in the old days, which brings me back to the question of which version of Willie do I prefer. Not that it matters because Willie's going to be the way he wants and he obviously prefers his new self. Overall I do too of course, but I do miss some aspects of past experiences we've had together. We arrive at the address of Willie's professional body piercer and into the building we go hand in hand. Willie's nervous and I can understand that, but I wonder how nervous he'd be if he was going to this body piercer with the possibility he'd be getting a PA in his dick like me in New York. I wasn't sure what lay ahead of me while Willie knows he's getting his nipple numbed before the one-second piercing. That's as long as the actual piercing takes. Inside the office the receptionist has a form for Willie to fill out and then we sit in a waiting room with others for half an hour before a nurse calls his name. Willie takes my hand to come with him, but the nurse puts an end to that, saying, "The doctor's insurance only covers patients, Mister Worthington, so your, um, friend will need to wait for you here." Willie starts to argue, but I say, "No problem, Willie, I'll be here if you need me." He reluctantly goes with the nurse and I sit down and pick up a magazine to read. A rather goofy looking young guy with a little ring in one nostril, asks, "Are you two gay? I couldn't help but notice you guys holding hands when you walked in." Who the fuck would ask that question? I say, "Yeah, we're gay boyfriends, why?" He says, "Nothing, no offense, I admire your guts for being who you are and fuck it if everybody else gawks at you." I say, "It's not like we're saying fuck you to everyone. We hold hands, what's the big deal?" He mutters, "Dude, I was giving you giving you a compliment. I wouldn't have the balls to do that, that's all I'm saying." Looking at him I see he has pretty eyes. I go, "Oh, thanks. Are you gay?" and he's like, "Hardly, but if I were I wouldn't have the guts to hold hands with a guy. I'm straight, not that I've ever done anything to prove it or validate it." I nod my head and go back to reading my People magazine thinking about this poor bastard who has never had sex. Jesus! Willie returns with a huge smile on his face. He goes, "A piece of cake." Standing, I ask, "Why'd it take forty minutes for a one second procedure?" Willie goes, "I sat around in a little room for most of it." As we're leaving, without holding hands this time, he adds, "Then I got a tiny needle of something to numb my nipple and fifteen minutes later a nurse wheels in a cart with medical stuff on it, a doctor comes in and a minute later he shakes my hand and that's it." In the car he pulls up his shirt to show me his nip ring... his sore looking numb nipple looks just like mine did right after the piercing. "Cool," I say, and we go to lunch. At lunch Willie talks about his 'operation' as he calls it. He makes it seem like he got an arm amputated without benefit of ether. I let him live his moment while I enjoy his exuberance. He's a happy kid which makes me happy for him. Later he's going out to dinner with his mother and father. I think back to the nastiness of his father's letter in Key West and his mother's response to the letter. She was more interested in sticking it to her husband than supporting her son, and now they're finally becoming a family of some sort. I'd like to think I helped Willie get to the place he finds himself in now. If I did, I feel good about it even as I miss the other Willie a little. At my condo, Willie asks, "Are you sure you can't stay with me tonight, Dylan? I'd love to spend my last night before college with you." I shake my head, "I can't, Willie. I haven't seen my boyfriend for days now. He's laying in a hospital bed bored to tears and I want to try cheering him up." Willie says, "Well, you really cheered me up, that for sure. Give me a kiss." I lean over and Willie puts his hand behind my head and we have a one minute wet kiss with lots of tongue involved. It gets my dick's attention, for sure. There's no denying Willie is a sexy guy and he knows how to push the right buttons with me. After the kiss he ruffles by quarter inch hair, without hardly moving it, then mutters, "I love you so much, Dylan. Please visit me at Cornell and definitely email me when you're going to be home from college for a weekend so I can arrange to be here too." I go, "Uh huh," and he kisses me quickly again, saying, "Until then, I hope you're as happy as you've made me. You're very special." I mutter, "You too, see ya later, Willie." I get out and walk around the front of his car. He calls out the window, "If you change your mind about tonight, just hit me with a text and I'll be right over to pick you up." I wave, "Okay, Willie, bye for now." He waves and pulls away. I'm skipping up the steps, still conscious of my sore rectum, but it's not nearly as sore as it was after our early morning sex, and it's improving by the minute. Great recuperative powers in the rectum apparently. I'm feeling good over all, sexually satisfied with a cool new haircut, and not a care in the world. Well, none I want to think about now anyway. In my condo my mom is still in her bathrobe drinking coffee and talking on her cell phone. Probably to Tris who she spends ten hours or more with every day, but yet they never run out of things to say to one another. Mom opens her eyes wide when she sees me. She's pointing at my head, or my haircut more accurately. She's smiling brightly making the circle with her thumb and forefinger indicating she likes my new do. Just to be sure I got the message, she gives me a thumbs up too, then blows me a kiss. I go over and she tells the person on the other end of the line, "Dylan just came in with a very cool new haircut." I kiss her on the cheek, mouthing, "Thanks," meaning for her endorsement of my haircut. In my bedroom I check myself out again, smirk, and then shoot my reflection in the mirror with my finger because I'm looking pretty damn good even if I do say so myself. Flopping on my bed I call Robby and his cell phone rings in some unknown place. Yeah, I just remember he doesn't know where his cell phone is. Damn, this is inconvenient, but I call his mother's cell phone and instead of his mom answering, Robby does. It's musical chairs with his mom's cell phone. He says, "Hiya, boyfriend. Whatcha been up to?" I say, "We're not suppose to talk about our side sex and I won't, but I was with Willie Worthington last night. Just want to be up front with you, Robby." I told him I was with Willie last night, which doesn't imply I spent the night too, but it could mean that and therefore it doesn't qualify as a little white lie. I'm trying to cut down on those damn things. Robby goes, "Jesus, I haven't heard that name for months," and I go, "You probably won't hear it again for quite a while either because he's leaving for Cornell University tomorrow. How you feeling?" Robby tells me he feels okay except he can't pass the damn concussion test. My little true confession about Willie slid by easily because I didn't make a big deal out of it by trying to justify myself with some rationalization. And adding that little tidbit about Cornell was genius. I'm not trying to deceive Robby so much as I don't want him needing to give it a thought. It's just buddy sex between an old buddy and me. I don't know why the hell I've got the hot's for Willie again, but it doesn't matter because he's gone to a university in New York state, so him and me having another date any time soon is very unlikely. I ask Robby, "How's your hottie of a roommate doing?" Robby laughs, "Hottie, my ass. He was a black guy who's a defensive lineman for his college football team, which is to say he's basically fat and way big and tall. Dejon was not a hottie in any sense of the word as you and I know that word. He was a good guy though and he got to leave the hospital this morning. He passed the concussion test." I mutter, "He probably studied harder for it than you." Robby chuckles, mumbling, "I hope you're kidding about that." I go, "Of course I am, what do you need to do in order to pass the test. Walk a straight line, touch the tip of your nose with your finger, stuff like that?" Robby says, "I believe you're thinking of a sobriety test. This is a neurological exam interested in my balance, sensitivity to light, memory and concentration, reflexes, and shit like that." I ask, "What do you do during the exam?" He says, "The doctor reads me a list of words or numbers. When he finishes I need to repeat as many of them back to him as I can. Then he wants me to recite the months of the year backwards. There's test for balance and reflexes and everything like that. My balance and reflexes are okay, not perfect yet, but okay. It's the memory and concentration they're concerned about." Robby apparently got a good laugh from the get well card the guys at work sent him, and he reads me some of the wise-ass stuff we wrote on his card. I ask if I can visit him and he talks me out of it with the same logic as before. That logic being a fifteen minute visit isn't worth a two hour round trip drive to Worcester. I ask, "So, you're probably going to get released tomorrow, right? Do any of the test have anything to do with sex? Any restrictions in that area, I'm just curious." He laughs, "Um, no, that hasn't come up." I go, "Really? Huh, it'd be the first thing I'd ask about. Okay, we'll wing it and see how it goes. I hope after we have great sex you can remember it, ya know?" He laughs, "You're too much, Dylan. I love you!" I say, "I love you too and miss you something terrible. If you get out tomorrow will you go to work Monday?" He says, "That's yet to be determined." We talk for another half hour until Robby says his ear is getting sweaty holding the cell phone against it. I tell him my mom can talk on the phone for two hours straight, and he says she's had more experience and has therefore built up cell phone tolerance. We hang up with me having an uneasy feeling about this. It's like I feel helpless and powerless to do anything for Robby and I want to do something so badly. Sending flowers or a fruit bowl would be silly and we already sent a get well card. I don't know what else to do. Fuck it, I'm going to drive up there anyway. I text Chubby, 'Where are you, bro?' He texts back, 'I'm just finishing up work. Leaving in the next twenty minutes.' I text, 'Good! You and me are going for a drive.' Chubby texts, 'Whatever you say, bro, I got your back.' Just like that. He doesn't even ask where we're going. That's the kind of best friend and brother everyone should have. Well, there's nothing I need to do to get ready that I can think of. I showered this morning at Willie's, but oops, I'm wearing his clothes and, dammit, I left my clothes in his bedroom. Oh well, it's a even swap as far as a one shirt and one pair of shorts for my shirt and shorts, but when we get into value, it's don't work out too well for Mister Worthington I'm afraid. My stuff cost one-fifth what his cost, not that he cares one bit about that. His shirt and shorts I'll use as dress clothes for special occasions. I change into my own clean casual shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, but leave Willie's underwear on because it's sexy as hell wearing another guys underwear, hee hee. I'm such a perv. Checking myself out again I look down at my wrist and remember my new thin braided black leather bracelet with the silver clasp. This thing is so damn cool I'm definitely wearing it. The bracelet looks like maybe it cost twenty bucks, but I know Willie probably paid more than that for it. Still, it doesn't look expensive so I'm good to go as far as wearing it. Walking back into the living room my mom's off the phone. She asks, "Did you have a good time with your friend last night, Dylan?" I sit down and tell her, "It was nice seeing him again. We ate dinner at this place in Framingham called 'Dino's Italian Cuisine'. It's a smallish restaurant... oh, our waiter is a friend of a friend of Robby's. He gives us special service." Mom says, "I know the place. It features real Italian food. Tris and I have eaten there with the twins. What's the waiter's name?" I say, "What else, it's Tony." She grins, "What else did you do?" I go, "Well, Willie's parent are on the rich side and they built this athletic area behind the house for him years ago. Basketball and tennis court plus a swimming pool. Big pool. We played basketball and swam and talked, that sort of thing. Oh, and their chef made us eggs benedict this morning. Really delicious." Mom lifts my wrist and looks at my bracelet. "Um, where'd you get this, honey?" I'm like, "It's just a simple imitation leather bracelet, braided or something with an aluminum clasp." Which doesn't exactly tell my mom where I got it so much as describes it for her, as if she can't see it herself. Turning my wrist she looks at the clasp, mumbling, "JH. This is a John Hardy braided leather bracelet, not imitation leather, but real leather. It's beautiful and the clasp is silver." Boy, I'm glad I didn't say I picked it up at the mall for twenty bucks. I go, "Huh! I didn't know that. Willie said it was too small for his wrist so he was going to throw it out." She looks puzzled, "This cost at least two hundred and fifty dollars, honey. He was going to throw it out?" I go, "That's what he told me." And he did say that, but I made up the 'too small for his wrist' part. I mumble. "He's rich, mom. They don't live like us." She says, "I shouldn't think so. I think your friend wanted to give you a gift and knew you wouldn't accept it if you knew what it cost so he said it was fake leather with an aluminum clasp. John Hardy makes expensive classy men's jewelry." I say, "Yeah, it is classy looking alright," then I ask, "How are you and Tris getting along with your twin boyfriends?" Mom goes into this long explanation of how the twins are backing off on the marriage talk because marriage scares some men. She adds, "Or, we think maybe since they do everything together one doesn't want to get married if the other isn't getting married." This takes us far away from discussions about expensive black leather braider bracelets, which is why I asked the question about the twins in the first place. Mom and I talk until Chubby bops in all smiles, bubbling with good cheer. Chubby and I hug and do a quick as a wink Dickers brothers' kiss on the lips that mom doesn't see, not that we care if she does. Chubby says he just came from his condo and his mom's out of the shower so my mom excuses herself and calls Tris again. Probably can't wait to tell her about my John Hardy bracelet. Chubby says to me, "Another new hair style I see. It's very cool." I mumble, "I wanted a different look," and he says, "All your 'looks' work, bro. You're the style guru of Framingham. Where we going?" I tell him and he says, "Okay, lets go. Hey, should we take Robby something?" I go. "Yeah, I was trying to think what to surprise him with and I just now thought what it should be. Robby loves Godiva dark chocolates. He loves those things." Chubby drives us to the mall and inside we run into Bean and Devon coming out of Macy's carrying bags of clothes they just bought. Me, Bean, and Devon do the posse greeting from habit and they seem genuinely happy to see me. Devon does the cheek rub during the hug and it's kinda nice. He smells good too. Both of them have had some form of sex with me at one time or another and maybe they want more because they say, almost at the same time, "Can I come over for a haircut?" Then they look at each other annoyed with one another, as I shrug and ask, "Back to school haircuts, guys? Sure, when do you want to come over?" Devon looks at Chubby, and I'm not sure if they've met so I introduce both boys to Chubby. Bean says, "How about this afternoon for my haircut?" I go, "Sorry, but we're on our way to see Robby in the hospital," and I fill them in on the accident. Bean says, "Rob's a hell of a baseball player, I hope he'll be okay" and Devon says, "Yeah, say hi to Rob for us, and, um, can I come over tonight, Dylan?" I say, "I'm not sure what I'm doing tonight, Devon. I'll text you later, okay?" Then I ask, "No date Saturday night, Devon?" and he says, 'Annie's got some kind of a family responsibility tonight, we went out last night." I know Chubby's got a date, so I go, "Ya know what, tonight is probably going to work, Devon. Lets say seven-thirty unless I text you otherwise." He goes, "Great," and gives me some kind of a 'look' that I can't decipher, then he adds, "Maybe we can hang out after my haircut, if you're not busy." I say, "Sure, probably. Have you guys been shopping for back to school stuff?" They both say, "Yeah," and Bean adds, "We're big shot seniors now." I go, "Well, good luck with that. We gotta get going, see you tonight, Devon," and he does the posse goodbye giving me a hug, muttering, "I'm looking forward to it." Bean just waves, and says, "I'll call you next week about the haircut and, guess what, none of us are getting Ray's goofy burr haircuts." I go, "They're not goofy, but whatever you want is okay with me." As Chubby and I walk towards the Godiva store, he asks, "Are either of those guys gay?" I frown, muttering, "Nope, not that I know of, they just like free haircuts." He says, "They really like you, that's obvious, especially the good looking kid." I leave that alone, only mumbling, "They're all good guys, except Ray's weird, I gotta admit." Chubby mutters, "Glad you finally figured that out," and I defend Ray a little, "He's not as weird as you think, Chubby, you don't know him so don't judge." He goes, "Okay you're right, I don't know him very well. What I do know of him is weird though, so until I find out differently what am I suppose to think?" We're the only ones in the Godiva store except a young woman behind the counter talking on her cell phone. Woman seem to make more use of their cell phones than men. Chubby looks at a box of chocolates, and goes, "Jesus H. Christ, this box of chocolate, with, um, sixteen measly pieces is twenty-five dollars. I go, "It's quality chocolate, brother, and worth a dollar fifty a piece." He laughs, "How come you never bought me a box then?" I mutter, "I don't know. I'll get you a box for Christmas." The box Chubby looked at is exactly the one I want. Assorted dark chocolate candies, but only sixteen pieces is pretty skimpy. I look at the box with twenty five pieces and see it's priced at thirty-six bucks, so fuck that. I take the smaller box to the counter and the lady says into the cell phone, "Hold on a second, dear," and to me, "Is this all we can get for you today?" Well, she didn't get me anything actually, but I let it slide and nod my head dropping a twenty dollar bill and a five on top of the box. She rings it up on the cash register and puts it in a fancy little bag with handles. I say, "This is a gift," she looks at me a second, then stuffs a tissue paper on top of the bag. I guess that's their gift wrapping. Walking out of the store I tell Chubby, "Robby's going to be pretty freakin' happy to get this." On the way to the car Chubby points out a guy and a girl, saying, "That's Rex and Diana. There in Mary Jo's crowd." I say, "I met some of the stiffs in that crowd when we went to the Paw Sox game. I don't need to meet more." Chubby turns the tables on me, and says, "It's not fair of you to judge someone when you don't really know them." He smirks at me, so I say, "What I know about them is that they're boring, so until I learn differently what am I suppose to think?" He says, "See?" and I go, What?" He laughs and squeezes my hand. I love him. Chubby drives us towards the parking lot exit, as I say, "Look at all these fucking cars, Chubby. Any day of the week, at any time of the day, there are always tons of cars here. You'd think people would eventually run out of things to buy." He said, "We didn't," and we hear a metallic sort of pinging sound. I look out the window and see one of our hub caps rolling beside the car. "I go, "We lost a hub cap." Chubby like, "A hub cap?" then he slows up to wait for oncoming traffic to pass, as the hub cap rolls on heading straight for an older woman carrying two bags. She hears it and looks up, then freezes like a deer in the headlights as the hub cap is rolling on it's edge right for her. "Chubby goes, "That fucking hub cap's got good balance." The woman shrieks a little as the hub cap runs into one of the bags hanging from her hand. I'm laughing as Chubby backs up and drives over to retrieve the hub cap. The woman's pissed off, "That's very dangerous, young man," Chubby gives her a 'look' then says, "The hub cap has a mind of it's own, ma'am. It comes off whenever it wants, but it's got damn good balance wouldn't ya say?" She goes, "Balance?" Chubby gets out to pick up the hub cap. She stands there like a dummy, as Chubby lies, "Many thanks for stopping this thing. Once I had to walk a mile to get it when it came off while we're going down a big hill." She says, "I couldn't care less about a fucking hill or you walking a mile," and she turns and struts off. Chubby doubles over laughing. He gets in the Jeep, and says, "She couldn't care less about a fucking mile," I go, "Yeah, I heard." Shit like this always seems to happen when Chubby and me are together. We don't know why. We're going seventy miles an hour in a sixty-five mile an hour speed zone on route 93 when a guy merges onto the highway right in front of us going about fifty miles and hour. Chubby slams on the breaks laying on the horn for a few seconds. The guy in front flashes us the finger as Chubby passes him. The nitwit roars up the highway to get right behind us and starts tailgating us at seventy miles and hour. We hate tailgaters, and this is happening on route 93 which is three lanes in both directions so if the guy wants to pass us he just needs to go faster. Chubby says, "Why doesn't this asshole just pass me?" I mutter, "Because he's a asshole." Chubby begins to slow down assuming the guy will get frustrated, but the guy still won't pass and he slows down still tailgating two feet behind us. Chubby sputters, "I'm not giving this prick the satisfaction of pulling over," so he increases his speed back up to seventy miles an hour again. This is about the minimum speed anyone drives at on route 93. Chubby's in the right lane and now he pulls to the left into the middle lane and so does the other guy, tailgating us again. I say, "It's fun playing games in cars going seventy miles per hour. Very mature behavior." Chubby yells, "I'm not doing anything!" I say, "I was referring to dick-weed behind us." I look back and the guy appears to be in his thirties maybe. Chubby tries speeding up in the middle lane and even hitting eighty in the passing lane, but mister shit-for-brains continues tailgating. Chubby mutters, "He apparently took offense at me blowing my horn at him." I go, "Pull over to the breakdown lane and stop. If he pulls in behind us we can get out and discuss his poor driving habits with him." Chubby says, "I hope to God this toad pulls in behind us, I'm gonna kick his ass." Chubby makes his way from the passing lane to the middle lane, then to the right lane and then onto the breakdown lane. The tailgater doesn't follow us onto the breakdown lane. Instead he drive by us screaming something and giving us the finger, naturally. How childish! We act mature and use both our hands to return his salute with four of our own, then for good measure we do the universal jerkoff sign with a loose fist. He speeds away passing everyone. Chubby rejoins the highway, as I'm saying, "It's hard to win when you're dealing with a reckless individual like that, bro." He says, "Yeah, I know, but it pisses me off I had to pull off the highway." I mutter, "Better than being part of a ten car pileup." A mile down the highway we see a beautiful sight. Chubby goes, "I'm getting a boner looking at this." On the side of the road is our nemesis pulled over by a state trooper. He was flying when he took off after giving us the finger. Chubby is in the right lane so we coast by laughing our asses off giving him the finger again, and then the jerk off sign. The cop's back is to us, but I can see the rage in the man's face as he sees us laughing and mocking the shit out of him. The guy totally loses any cool he had and starts screaming at the cop. Now I'm watching them in the outside rearview mirror. The cop pulls the guy out of his car and the last thing I see is the asshole facing his car with his hands on the roof and his legs spread. I say, "That's a first. How many times have you said, 'where's a cop when you need one?'. That is so fucking awesome!" Then I fill Chubby in, "The guy started screaming at the cop so he might even windup in jail." Chubby goes, "Gee, I wonder what got the guy so upset that he'd scream at the cop?" I go, "I can't imagine. You don't think us driving by mocking him had anything to do with it, do you?" Chubby says, "I sure as shit hope so. That made my week, the word awesome doesn't do justice to this situation." We find the hospital, but we can't find a parking space. "Who do all these cars belong to?" Chubby mutters, "Did all the patients drive themselves to the hospital?" I point at a spot one aisle over, yelling, "Someone's pulling out in the next aisle!" Chubby gets to the vacant spot as another car is speeding towards this spot. "Too bad, sucker," Chubby mutters, as he parks. It's a good hike from where we're parked to the entrance to the hospital. We go in and it's like Grand Central Station. Lots of people milling around and a line in front of the information desk. We get at the back of the line and ten minutes later it's our turn. I ask, "What room is Robby Dickers in, please." She stares at me a second, then plays with her computer and says, "Room 509, but visiting hours aren't until seven o'clock." I look at my watch and see it's five minutes after six. Not good. I turn to Chubby, "Lets get something to eat," and he's like, "In here?" As we're walking away from the information desk, I say, "Yeah, in here. You wanna leave and then try getting a parking spot during visiting hours?" He goes, "Dylan, we're in a fucking hospital where lots of sick people are spreading more germs then we even know exist. Eating here isn't the ideal environment for fine dining." I mutter, "Since when did you become a germaphobe?" He goes, "I'm not, but would you eat dinner in a bathroom?" I go, "Nope, but the hospital cafeteria isn't a bathroom. Come on, we have an hour to kill." The hospital cafeteria smells like a school cafeteria... maybe all cafeterias smell like that. I can't pinpoint the smell or describe it except maybe it smells like tomato soup, some kind of soup. We order cheeseburgers and fries. The cheeseburgers were cooked sometime ago and come wrapped in foil from a warming tray much like fast food burgers. I try one of the fries and discover they're soggy. Chubby says, "Yum, germs and shitty food." It's busy in here so it seems a lot of people have come to grips with the germs involved with eating in a hospital cafeteria. Two doctors wearing scrubs are just leaving their table as Chubby and I are looking for an empty one, so we sit down among their left overs, pushing their mess to the side. Halfway done our tasteless food a busboy comes around and takes the mess left by the doctors and wipes the table. I put the box of chocolates in my lap, then Chubby and I lift our trays so the kid can wipe under them. He's an Hispanic kid with skinny wrists and he's also extremely good looking, but not communicative at all. I try for some dialogue, asking, "Have you been working here long?" His big dark eyes glance at me as he shakes his head, but says nothing. I get a good look at him close-up though so it isn't a total loss. Beautiful skin tone with handsome almost perfect facial features and a dark peach fuzz mustache. He has awesome dark brown hair cut short in a fade very much like mine, so I try again, asking, "Do you mind if I ask you where you get your hair cut?" He doesn't even glance at me this time, just gives the table one last swipe with the sponge and moves on to the next table. Chubby chuckles, "Your charm and good looks didn't have much of an effect on that kid, Dylan. A rare strike out for you, huh?" I mutter, "I can't imagine what you're talking about. I was just interested if he got his haircut in the same barbershop as I did." Chubby says, "Oh sure, he drove from Worcester to Framingham for a haircut." I think about that kid and me kissing with his peach fuzz tickling my upper lip. I'll bet he smells good too. Chubby chatters on as I fantasize about the busboy, and then another good looking guy in scrubs stands by our table with a tray in his hands. I look up, and he asks, "Mind if I share your table with you?" I shake my head, mumbling, "Not at all." He sits down, asking, "You guys visiting someone?" He has a bowl of something that might be chili, a Styrofoam cup of black coffee, and a roll. "Yeah, were here visiting my boyfriend," I tell him, and he goes, "What's wrong with him?" I tell him Robby has a concussion, and then I ask, "Are you a doctor?" He eats a spoonful of whatever it is in his bowl, and says, "I'm an intern. I have a medical degree, but not a license to practice medicine unsupervised yet." He's good looking without anything especially standing out except his voice. Very youthful boyish voice that probably won't serve him well as a doctor. Chatty guy though, he says, "I read where Justine Bieber booked a $250,000 seat on Branson's Virgin Galactic space shuttle?" Chubby says, "Oh, does he want to be the first person to get booed in outer space? Is that it?" The intern laughs, and says, "Hey, he's shown some bad behavior this year, but he a multimillionaire as an eighteen year old so, ya know." I ask, "Are you a fan of the Beeb's?" He says, "I'm a fan of his looks and body, yeah, but don't tell anyone because being gay and being a doctor is a no-no, although I'm not gay, for the record. Oh, and the Beeb's can sing and dance a little too." I don't know if he's gay or not now, not that it matters. Chubby says, "Ya know, from this moment on your lies are your life," and the intern laughs again, "Oh, you figured me out. Huh?" Chubby's goes, "Um, no," and the intern says, "Google has single-handedly cut into my ability to bullshit." Well, I don't know what that means either. Chubby drinks some soda, then says, "Yeah, I hear ya, doc, but I don't know, I'm getting the feeling your breathing helium and I'm breathing oxygen." The intern laughs, "It's just intern humor I'm laying on you guys." He talks in circles a little more and when he's done his chili and roll, he stands up, and says, "Great sharing a table with you guys, but I gotta run," and he's off with me muttering, "Yeah, likewise." Chubby goes, "Twilight zone material right there. How'd ya like to have him deciding life or death for you?" I go, "He's damn good looking so, ya know, maybe." We finish our food and then join doctors, nurses, and interns outside the front door smoking cigarettes. Chubby mumbles, "It's good to see all these medical professionals smoking. I guess that rumor about smoking being bad for your health is overrated." A nurse steps on her cigarette butt, and says to Chubby, "No, it's true, we just don't give a shit." Doctors and nurses in Worcester are a tough bunch apparently. We kill time walking around the grounds with me bitching, "This heat is gonna melt Robby's chocolates." Chubby says, "Lets go inside and see what's involved in visiting someone." Inside again, I mumble, "We know his room number, what the hell else do we gotta know?" Chubby points to a sign that indicates we need to check in at the front desk for a visitor's pass. I mutter, "Oh, that's just plain stupid," and we stand in line at the front desk. When we get to the front desk an officious woman tells us, "You need to be at least eighteen to visit a patient without an adult." We don't argue, just show our license IDs and she does something with her lips, like she's tasting something unpleasant. She taps some information into the computer, and says, "He's suffering from a concussion," as if we didn't know. She hands us a time stamped pass, telling us, "Only fifteen minutes. Return the pass after your visit." We walk away with Chubby mumbling to me, "I hope she doesn't hold her breath waiting for us to return this piece of paper." It takes us fifteen minutes to find and elevator, wait for it, and then go down one wrong hallway after another until we're right back at the elevator. Chubby says, "We're not intelligent enough to find this room on our own, we'll need to resort to the unthinkable." I ask, "You mean just leave?" He says, "Nah, ask somebody." I mutter, "I hate doing that." Chubby stops a orderly who informs us we took the wrong elevator. This is the pediatrics section. What the fuck? We go back down to the main floor and walk around until we find another bank of elevators. Chubby says, "I'm not asking again so this better be it." Up we go and find the room right away this time. I go in with a big smile on my face and Robby's face lights up. Damn, that's nice! "Dylan, Chubby! I'm glad you didn't follow my advise." I go over and lean down and we kiss a nice kiss with a little tongue. Robby rubs his fingers through my hair, muttering, "Another new hair style?" I go, "No, I've had this before. Remember spring break?" He goes, "Oh yeah, it's, um, cool." When I straighten up, Chubby asks, "Is it okay if I just bump fist, boss." Robby grins, and says, "No, you need to kiss me, I've got a fucking concussion." They bump fist, with Chubby asking, "How ya doing, Robby?" He goes, "I'm bored to tears. Luckily my roommate likes sports so we've been watching the Red Sox game. They're up two to nothing over Tampa Bay." The curtain's closed between the two beds so I don't get to see the roommate. The TV is on the wall so both beds have a clear view of it. Robby wants to hear about work so we tell him some funny things that happened while he's been in here. He tells us about hospital life. Yesterday he wanted to take a shower in the hospital and how his old roommate didn't flush a huge dump, so Robby had to flush it, but the room was basically contaminated by the unpleasant odor. He leaves the bathroom, feeling dirtier than when he went into it. He's going to let the air clear the room. His old roommate, who's responsible for the smelly dump in the toilet, asks if Robby changed his mind about the shower. Robby tells us, "The thing is, with a concussion you tend to forget things and I didn't want to embarrass the guy so I never told him he left a toilet full of shit behind him, but it was gross." We nod our heads and go, "Huh." Ya know, it's funny that when we're together normally we don't have any trouble communicating, but visiting Robby like this it's like I run out of things to say or ask. Chubby senses this and tells a few jokes and I remember to give Robby the candy I'm holding, which is a big hit. I get another kiss and the three of us talk about our preparations for our apartment at college while we eat the entire box of chocolates. Chubby says, "I feel dizzy," as he eats the last one. A nurse comes in to check on Robby and sees the pass I dropped on Robby's covers. She looks at it, and frowns, "Who's is this?" she asks. Chubby and I look at each other, and she says, "Did you get visitor passes?" Robby says, "They just got here." She laughs, "Right. Your visit's over guys. This pass was stamped an hour ago. I'd like to be there when you turn this into the wicked witch of the east at the front desk." We say goodbye to Robby, then I say, "I meant to ask, are you coming home tomorrow?" He says, "Oh yeah, it's definite. I found out a little while ago. I can take the test at my own doctors. I'll see you at home tomorrow afternoon." I feel better knowing that, and I'm still glad we took the effort to see him tonight too. Outside the room Chubby makes a ball of our visitor's pass and dumps it in a trash bin as I call Devon. He answers, saying, "I'm at your front door, Dylan. Are you in there?" I say, "I'm so sorry, but I forgot, Devon. I'm in Worcester visiting Robby. It'll take me an hour to get back. Dude, I apologize. We didn't know the visiting hours, so we had to wait over an hour to see him." He says, "Is it okay if I try again at eight-thirty?" I say, "Absolutely and I'm really sorry." He says, "It's okay, it's only a ten minute drive. I'll see you at, lets make it eight-forty-five. I say, "Great. Thanks for understanding." Walking to the car I explain how I forgot about Devon's haircut and Chubby goes, "Oh man, I gotta call MJ too, I'm suppose to pick her up at eight." While he does that I'm thinking that we're a couple of air heads tonight. And then I think, 'I wonder why Devon is so anxious for his haircut? This might bode well for me, or am I in for something I'm totally not expecting? I hate when that happens'. Chubby's off the phone. "She's cool, no problem. Let's get on the road," and that's what we do. to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com Please consider a tax deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty to help with the expenses of keeping this story site free, Thank you!