DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 18
by Donny Mumford
Ryan's sitting on the edge of his bed waiting for me to lay out the barber stuff. He wants me to arrange everything on his desk, and do it the same way he insisted I do it in their Georgia garage. I've got that unmistakable nervous squirmy feeling in my stomach; the one I always get before he's about to give me one of his specialty haircuts. Unzipping the toiletry kit, I glance inside and see the professional barber clippers. Just looking at those clippers gives me a little buzz in my nuts. Huh, and I see Ryan's left a quarter-inch guide on the clippers, I assume that's from the last time he
gave Jeff a ridiculously short haircut. It looks like his short hair clippings on the guide. That makes me think of Golden cleaning the clippers after he gave Robby and me haircuts last week. He used a little brush dislodging clinging hair clippings off the clipper's blades. It's what Ryan should do after every haircut, but he doesn't. I never do it either, although I know I should.
He'll have me sit on his desk chair with my shirt off and, if he's true to form, he'll smack the back of my head and tell me to sit up straight. He doesn't abide his victims sloughing during their haircut. All kinds of images flicker past my eyes of the last haircut Ryan gave me. It was like ten weeks ago now, but I still get sexy haircut-fetish-sensations sizzling around my groin thinking about it. I can almost feel that hard seat I sat on the
garage stool. I'd sit there shirtless with good posture as Ryan moved the clippers over the top of my head, bearing down on my scalp to insure the shortest possible cut. Crazy as it sounds, I'd like to experience all of it again today. I know my heart will be hammering in my chest with scary anticipation of what's to come, and before he's done my dick will be hard as stone. Fucking fetishes, huh!
Glancing over at Ryan, I give him a nervous, unsure-of-myself, half grin. He sits there arrogantly confident, looking back at me with his patented stern expression. Oh man, it's wicked tempting to go through with this. Ryan isn't aware I'm even contemplating not doing it. He assumes I'll do it because he told me to. In my mind I can actually visualize my long hair sliding down my bare back and off my shoulders, clumps of long blond hairs drifting to the floor while the sound of the clippers doing their job clatters in my ears. The very thought of it makes me shudder with my dick moving in my boxer shorts. Fucking haircut fetish, indeed...! Fuck it, I'm not going to! I've got willpower and free will and, as much as I'd get a temporary thrill out of it, I'm not going through with it. His proposal is kinda sick actually; it's fucked-up. He's being a bully by basically blackmailing me into being his Marietta boy again; threatening to transfer to another college if I don't agree to do it. He's being petulantly about it, acting like a spoiled kid who, if he can't get his own way, will takes his ball and go home. Or in this case, if he can't get his way he'll take his big dick and dominant manner to The University of Georgia.
Zipping the toiletry kit closed, I say a resounding, "No!" Ryan's head snaps up, "No, what?" I look right back at him, and calmly say, "No, to your blackmail. If the only way we can be friends and sex-buddies is you doing that ridiculous haircut on me every week, then I'm saying 'no' to everything between us. I'm sorry, but there's something seriously wrong with a relationship like that." He looks shocked, "You mean, um... what are you saying?"
Putting the toiletry kit snugly under my arm, I quietly say, "You're not acting like the friend I used to know. You're acting like an insecure bully who's badgering me about an absurd haircut. You're insisting I knuckle under and become Danny in Marietta again. And by the way, you should have been
on my side when your mother said my name was goofy, or whatever her reason was for not calling me Dylan." He stands up and points at me, shouting, "You told her your middle name was Daniel." I wave my hand at him, like: that's not the point, saying, "I don't even have a middle name. You should have
insisted your mother call me by my real name. You promised to look out for me when I was living with you. It was awkward enough for me as it was. Um, but never mind all that now, it's the way you've been acting since you got
here that bothers me." With a noticeable lack of bravado now, he focuses on the least important part of what I just said, mutterings, "That haircut isn't absurd. It's proudly worn by gung-ho Marines, Special Forces guys, and others in the military." I look blankly at him for a few seconds, and he finally whines, "Well, it is... you know that."
Shaking my head, I'm like, "That has nothing to do with anything, Ryan!"
He says, "Yes it does! And why this abrupt change of heart? What's gotten into you?" I say, "I've overcome the need for fetish relief. I've come to my senses in the nick of time. This whole discussion has been stupid! I mean ..." he interrupts, "We just finished talking everything out, and it wasn't stupid then. We both agreed on what to do moving forward. We had an agreement." Shaking my head again, "No we didn't! We didn't have an agreement .
You stated how you wanted things to be, and then assumed it was settled; settled simply because you said it was. Look Ryan, forget all that. You're my friend; a close friend. There's no reason why you should feel it's necessary to dominate me by doing that haircut. When I was living with you it could be partially rationalized as a case of me living with you, so your rules apply. But that was then, and this is now." He mutters, "Yeah, but you're still you, and I'm still me."
He's not willing to acknowledge the obvious, so I go, "C'mon, Ryan, you know damn well that haircut only makes a tiny bit of sense if I'm okay with it,and at the moment I'm not okay with it. I like having hair." He says, "Have you forgotten I was giving you that haircut here at college last spring. You didn't care about hair then, but now all of a sudden you do?"
Exhaling noisily, I mumble, "Those haircuts last spring were like buzz cuts. The Marietta haircuts you gave me were buzz cuts on steroids." Frowning he mumbles, "Yeah, well you liked it a lot while I was doing the haircuts, and you never refused them." Seeing that he's lost all his bravado now, and he's hanging his head, I feel a little bit bad for him, so I say, "Hey, I'm not saying I'll never get your haircut, Ryan. Maybe I'll get tired of having hair, but as of today I still like combing hair on my fucking head. Anyway, friendships never depend on ultimatums." He goes, "Well fuck you then." I'm like, "Yeah well, that's too easy of an out, Ryan. What's wrong with you anyhow?" He goes, "Nothing's wrong with me. I merely thought it'd be a good idea for both of us to enjoy a little of the good life we had back home.
Back home where I fulfilled a fantasy life for you, the one you'd described to me a year and a half ago. I thought you'd appreciate my offer to continue part of it here at college." I go, "Oh yeah? To that rationalized logic, the words, 'total bullshit' occurs to me," and he shrugs, trying not to chuckle.
I'm still leaning against the door and he's still sitting on the edge of his bed, his feet hanging over. Neither of us says anything for a long twenty seconds, while I'm realizing I don't really want to leave, so to get us talking again, I say, "Ryan, you said the word fantasy a minute ago, and that's mostly what I was talking about a year and a half ago; a fantasy, not reality. We both know the difference." He's slowly shaking his head, frowning this time, so I add, "Look, I totally agree that it was a great time in your hometown, but in the end I was missing Rob too much. I'm in love with him. Deeply in love with him, but that doesn't exclude me from you being a close friend. Close friends are more precious than gold. You should know that. You didn't have any friends in Marietta. Not until I helped you make some." Then to lighten-up that rather harsh comment, I go, "And imagine my surprise when some of those guys liked you more than me. Your boy, Jeff, comes to mind. I never understood why that fucking hick was into you when I was available." He frowns, "Hey, what the fuck... hick?" I say, "Where's your sense of humor? You know, like you mentioned me not having one ten minutes ago?" He nods his head, mumbling, "Touché." I go, "I'm not denying the things you said about your specialty haircuts; they were explosively hot for my fetish. And you're right again that I bitched about them, but never said 'no' to you. That's only a very small part of you and me though. The freshman year stuff you talked about didn't have a haircut element to it anyway, so that's a bad example. Do you know what I'm saying?" He goes, "Yes, you're telling me good luck at The University of Georgia." Shaking my head slowly, I open the door, saying, "Fuck this! If you ever want to talk seriously about things, with a good friend, text me. I'll be there for you when you're ready to get your head out of your ass."
Before I close the door behind me, he says, "Come back, Dylan! Please don't go." Standing in the open doorway, I look at him, and he goes, "Okay, if you know so much, can you explain to me where I'm wrong in my thinking? And by the way, I might contend that your weight in gold could very well be more precious than friendship." I step back inside, muttering, "That's an attempt at humor, I assume." He shrugs and sort of grins, "Partially an attempt at humor, yeah." Leaning against the door again, I'm like, "So, you wanna be friends now?" He nods his head, "Yeah I do, but I really am transferring to that Georgia University. All the necessary paperwork's been filed." I go, "Didn't one of your parents go here, and aren't they pissed you're leaving?" He goes, "Whatever gave you that idea?" I'm like, "I thought that's what you told me. I don't remember when it was, but I could swear I heard you say that." He shrugs, like it's not important one way or the other.
He goes, "I can't transfer until the end of the semester. I need these credits, so I'll be here for the semester final exams. I guess you're stuck with me until the middle of December." Nodding my head, I'm like, "Oh, so you knew you were transferring, haircut or no haircut. You misrepresented yourself thinking it'd be cool, from your perspective, to leave behind your Marietta haircut on my head as a farewell gesture. Is that it?" He mumbles, "Well, we both could have ten weeks of enjoying my haircuts. Sure, you hated on the haircuts, but groveled in your fetish while I was giving you the haircut, and I liked giving them to you and seeing your reaction. It's a win/win situation." Glancing down at the toiletry kit under my arm, I get a shiver thinking how hot that would be, then say, "Whatever. I'm not getting your haircut. And, not to belabor the point, but your proposal was totally bogus. You inferred you wouldn't transfer if I went along with the haircut.
It's surprises and disappoints me you'd bald-face lie to me like that." He smirks, "Yeah, it was a little sick of me, wasn't it? I was feeling desperate to spend some Marietta time with you before I go. I'm in pain being this close to you without being in charge of you anymore; that's true as true can be." I go, "Have you considered getting over yourself?" He mutters, "Fuck you, with that getting over myself." I shrug, "Just saying..."
Ryan adds, in a wistful manner, "Me being your boss at work, and then all the other times too was the best two months I've ever lived, or probably ever will." Well, that's extremely sad! So to pump him up a little, I say, "Well yeah, it was a quite an experience for me too, and the most different thing I've ever done." Then I throw in a lie, "Most of the thanks go to you for making it work so well." He seems mystified, asking, "How can you be so fucking magnanimous about everything?" I shrug, "I'm not burdened with some massive ego, and before you take that the wrong way, I don't think you have a massive ego either. And you will have better times than those two months I was with you, so don't pull that sad-sack shit on me; trying to make me feel guilty."
He goes, "I give up! You're making too much sense for me to argue with you
further, so I'm done trying. Come over and sit with me, Dylan. Don't just stand there like you're running out the door any second." I chuckle, "You're as persistent as ever I see." He mumbles, "I'm a world class nagger...
just ask Stevie." I ask, "Does your roommate know you're transferring?" He shakes his head, "No, not yet. C'mon over here, we're friends again. I won't bite you." Damn, he's asking instead of ordering. That's a step in the right direction for him, and it couldn't have been an easy thing for him to do. He finds it difficult asking me to 'please' do anything. He likes telling me what to do. And now that he's given up on his haircut plans, maybe we can work out common grounds. Jeez though, it's hard to believe these are the last ten weeks he'll be here. We really should make the best of it. I can't visualize Ryan being gone for good and us never seeing each other again...
wow. Could that actually happen? Ryan's doing that come-here motion with his fingers now, grinning at me and nodding his head encouragingly. Shaking my head slowly and making a face at him, I mutter, "You nut," and walk over to the bed. He pats the bed, so I sit on the edge. He pats the bed closer to him making me chuckle while scooting over right next to him. He asks, "Friends?" holding out his hand.
We shake hands, and just his touch makes me shiver slightly. He holds my hand after we shake, grinning at me and looking me in the eyes. I can still picture him with those little round out-of-date glasses he wore when we met.
His middle finger pushing the sliding glasses up his cute nose. He did it every couple of minutes, probably not even aware he was doing it. He has the prettiest eyes and narrow eyebrows that mother nature was kind enough to give him. I've never understood why more guys didn't find him as attractive and sexually hot as I do. Then there's Jeff, who feels about Ryan like me, finally someone agrees with me.
I'm beginning to feel his sexual heat being this close to him. He asks, "What are you thinking about?" I mumble, "You and your out-of-date Harry Potter glasses that were always sliding down your nose." He nods his head, "Thinking about me, huh?" I go, "Well, I'm right next to you, and you're holding my hand, so it's not all that odd I'd be thinking something about you.
Your old eyeglasses came to mind." He puts his arm around the back of my neck, pulling my head over, asking, "Can I give you a kiss?" I nod, and he gives me one of those special kisses of his that always get me hot. I'm not even sure why they get me so hot and aroused, they just do. My mouth opens for him and his perfect, somehow almost cool tongue slides against my tongue
feeling sexy as his lips suck on mine. It's all so familiar and arousing as both my arms, almost on their own, go around the back of his neck. The kiss lasts maybe a minute with us swapping spit, licking and sucking on each other's mouth. It's more like making-out than giving me a kiss. It soon brings on a boner that's poking out the lap of my pants.
Our lips make a wet sexy sound when he moves his head back slightly, asking, "How was that, baby?" My face feels hot, his scent is in my head and I can't catch my breath, plus I have this feeling I might cum. When I don't reply to his question, he goes, "You don't need to tell me, I can see how aroused you are." Ryan's really the only side-sex partner who I make-out with in any kind of serious way. Most side-sex partners don't kiss at all.
Making out with Ryan though; well, he's a world class make-out as far as I'm concerned. I take a deep breath and he smiles knowingly, then rubs noses with me. His scent is swarming around in my head and it's both fantastic and scary being this attracted to him. Past experience tells me I could easily fall under the power he somehow holds over me. Right now, for example, I don't want to back away from him, or take my arms from around his neck. As I look into his eyes he says, in his murmuring, hypnotic voice, "I'm truly sorry for trying to deceive you, Dylan. From my heart I ask you to please forgive me." I do a slight nod of my head and he goes, "C'mon, why don't you lie your head on my shoulder. I know you'd like to, and we can at least still enjoy each other with a kiss and a hug, right?" He's just as aware of his hold on me, as I am.
Wanting to enjoy our truce, my head lays on his shoulder, his whiskers tickling my forehead. He hypnotically murmurs, "This is much nicer than arguing, isn't it? We're special when we're together because you're special." He rubs up and down the back of my head, ruffling my hair, saying, "I lied about your hair too. It's awesome hair and you look fantastic." He gives me a really tight hug this time, then puts his finger under my chin lifting my head and our lips meet again for another kiss exchanging lots of saliva this time, so much so it's running down our chins. My boner is pounding in my pants. The way we're sitting, half turned toward each other my boner is doing it's throbbing against Ryan's leg. It's nothing new to him because, like I just said, he knows the effect he has on me. And again I fear I'll cum any second now. I haven't gotten this easily arousal, purely for sex purposes, since my days with Ryan in Georgia. The easy way I fell right back into my feelings for him when he was my boss of everything surprises me, but Ryan's sexual heat can be intoxicating to me. He called me back knowing if I gave him half a chance he could have his way, and I'd let him take our sex as far as he wanted to go with it. That's how it's always been with us. No matter what, in the end Ryan's in charge. It's all about the sex though, I've never been in love with him, and never could fall in love with him. The sex though, that's an entirely different story, and we both know it.
His right hand unbuttons my pants, as he says, "Lift your ass, Dylan." I do that and he works my pants down to my calves, then I kick them off entirely. They lay on the floor as Ryan slides me off the bed, saying, "Get between my legs and take my big cock out." Naked from my waist down, my knees on the floor between his legs, I'm fumbling his zipper down, anxious to suck his big bad boy again. He helps by unbuttoning his jeans and fully opening the fly. Using two fingers I reach in his underpants and pull his firm cock out through the slit in front of his jockey shorts, then pull out his big hairy balls. Looking at his privates, my eyes get as big as Pony's eyes got when he looked at my cock. Actually it's funny how my status with Ryan is like Pony's status with me. Pony and I are submissive underlings; him to me, and me to Ryan. Lifting Ryan's big cock I'm always surprised at the weight of it. I stroke it a few times staring at the gaping big piss slit, then take the head in my mouth and it's a mouthful alright. After giving it an initial bath with my tongue, covering it with warm saliva, I the stick the tip of my tongue in his gaping piss slit. Ryan goes, "Ahh," and squirms a little on the bed. I close my eyes and suck on the big bulbous head of his penis while inhaling the strong scent from his crotch. Oooh God, this is so fucking hot! My cock somehow gets harder as I suck and tongue the large head while Ryan coos encouraging word, "Good boy, that feels good, baby. You haven't lost it." My own boned-up cock is tightly up against my belly, under my shirt, drooling precum as it throbs pleasantly. I don't dare touch it or I'd cum immediately, plus I'd get a smack on my head from Ryan. He trained me in Georgia to wait for him to fuck an orgasm out of me.
Taking more of his cock in my mouth, my tongue bathing it with warm saliva, Ryan's pulls on a fistful of my hair, murmuring, "Nice, baby, suck that bad-boy cock of mine. You love doing it and it shows." Mostly I hear a hypnotic quiet chant more than the words he's saying, but it's all smoking hot to me. This is major-league sex as compared to the messing around Pony and I have been doing. In two minutes Ryan's penis has been transformed into a really hard intimidating boner, but only the top three inches can fit in my mouth. I know Ryan won't let that situation last very long. Sure enough, he slides off the edge of the bed and, with a fistful of my bangs, roughly jerks my head back and, of course, forces his long fat cock down my throat.
The huge head bulging out my Adam's apple. His pubic hairs are all around my mouth,; my nose is buried in them, squished against his belly. Still holding a fistful of my front hairs he pushes my head further back and pulls his boner out of my throat as precum coats my tongue. There's no talking now, just heavy breathing from Ryan, gasping breaths as he pushes his cock back down my throat and humps his crotch against my face a few times. It has me gagging as a submissive trance totally envelopes me now and my throat muscles completely relax... I drift off the ground, anchored by Ryan's hard throbbing boner in my throat. My docile body language announces to Ryan he's put me into a dreamy sexually submissive trance and he murmurs, "Good boy,"
and pats my cheek, then pulls his cock completely out of my throat and mouth. I sit back on my ankles staring up at Ryan, waiting to be told what he wants me to do next.
Ryan sits back down on the edge of the bed nodding his head slightly,; satisfied everything is going the way it's supposed to between him and me.
He motions for me to get up, so I stand and he goes, "Lean over, Dylan, let me have a taste." I lean my head down and our lips meet. His tongue slides around in my mouth and when he pulls it out there a string of precum and saliva attached to my lips and his pink, clean-looking tongue. He grins at me, his perfect white teeth sparkling, and I suck on his tongue, cleaning off the goo. Patting my head, he remains sitting on the edge of the bed, telling me, "Good, boy. Now get up here on the bed, a knee on either side of me." I do that with his arms around me keeping me from falling backwards.
"Lift your ass," and I do that with my arms going around the back of his neck again, for support this time. Lifting my ass, my chest against his, and the sides of our faces together, I go, "Mmmm," feeing good, feeling taken care of.
It's nice Ryan and I are like this again. He guides the head of his big boner to my asshole and tells me, "I want you to go all the way down on it.
Do it now, Dylan." I lower my ass and grimace as the bulbous hard head severely stretches the lips of my anus, then the head struggles past my sphincter muscle, forcing its way up my rectum stretching it painfully, inch by inch. He says, "I told you go all the way down, Dylan, and I mean do it quickly!" I drop my ass,; my forehead goes on his shoulder with me groaning at the pain and pleasure. Tears roll down my cheeks as I sit painfully on his lap, his huge engorged boner impaling me. Some of his precum helped, but it's was an incredibly tight fast ride down his big wood pole without letting my rectum relax even for a seconds. New sections of my rectum, eight inches of it, were forced reluctantly to spread wider than normal, accommodating this huge intrusion. I'm biting my bottom lip to keep from crying out, my arms squeezing around Ryan's neck. He can feel my tears on his cheek, so he murmurs, "Yes, it hurts a little, and you've still got a bit more to go,"
as he uses his hands to put pressure on the top of my thighs to gets me tightly on his lap. I feel the hard head of that huge cock slide up another quarter inch inside me. Hugging him tighter I savor the compliment when he says, "Awesome job, baby!" The praise brings a smile to my face even as the pain continues spiking inside me; then a streak of pure sexual pleasure makes me gasp, but the pleasure streak is quickly dominated by pain again. He says, "Ignore the pain, boy. Wiggle that cute ass of yours." I wiggle my ass on his lap, whining, "It really hurts, Ryan." He goes, "Stop your bitching! You like it rough and it'll start feeling good soon enough," and for emphasis he swaps the back of my head, saying, "No whining!" I slide deeper into the dreamy submissive trance I'm in.
The pain's already letting up helped along by the way Ryan's maintaining his dominant role of being in-charge of me. It's so awesome I try snuggling tighter again him. He murmurs, "I know, I know. You love this. I've been trying to tell you that for the last hour." I nod my head slightly, not wanting to speak for fear I'll lose some of the submissiveness I'm feeling.
Ryan murmurs, "Go ahead, wiggle your ass some more, baby, feel my big organ inside you." I wiggle on his lap and he chuckles, "Feels good, doesn't it?" I murmur, "Uh huh," and he rubs my back, "You smell so good, Dylan, and your ass is like no other. Are you ready to get fucked?" I nod my head, the side of my face rubbing against his scant beard that feels sexy to me. Turning his head he kisses my cheek, then says, "I saw when you slipped into submission to me, and I almost shot my load down your throat. Doesn't all this feel right? The two of us right where we belong" I nod my head again, still not wanting to speak. I'm in the most wonderful submissive trance. It's so peaceful, and the sexual pleasure now surrounding my full rectum is hard to describe. I shudder against him as I feel his huge boner expand inside me.
Throbs of pleasure from millions of nerve endings stimulated by Ryan's smooth log of a boner. He knows how to bring on the sexual pleasure in me. I snuggle submissively against him, moaning, "Mmm, it feels so good, Ryan,"
and move my body against his tight muscular torso, then rub my nose in the whiskers on his cheek under his ear. He smells sexy good!! Ryan gets a hand on my biceps pushing me away from him about a foot, saying, "Now you're gonna ride my big pole. Put your hands on my shoulders and lift your hips." I do that as sensations explode in my rectum making me shudder with pleasure as my forehead drops to Ryan's. He says, "Sit up straight!" so I do, the memory of the pain going down on his boner long forgotten, like it never even happened. Keeping my back straight I'm lifting up on my knees, inch by inch until I feel the large swollen head distending the lips of my asshole. Pulling up until the head is just about to pop out of my ass, the nerve ending surrounding my anus' lips sizzling with pleasure vibrations. Waiting a few seconds, then sitting all the way back down on his pulsating boner with my shouldered shuddering uncontrollably. Flat on his lap, I moan, "Ooooh, oooh, Ryan, ooh." He grins and kisses me on the lips, then says, "Get in a good rhythm now, baby. Ride that thing fast and hard."
Looking into his blue eyes, I'm serious when I warn him, "I'll cum all over you, Ryan." He goes, "Good, be my guest, I don't care. Now do what you're told!" I start lifting up on my knees and sitting back down all the way to his lap, lifting up and sitting down, and again and again without the familiar "Slap' sound when my bare ass hits his lap, That's because he never pulled his pants down. Lift and sit, lift and sit with so many pleasure sensations bombarding my brain I'm constantly moaning , my cock a piece of granite sticking straight out. Every time I lift up and sit down one side of the open zipper scrapes the inside of my thigh and I couldn't care less.
I know this won't last nearly as long as I wish it would. The pleasure sensations from my prostate are constant and almost too intense to bear, while the lips of my anus sizzle from the millions of nerve endings there. I'm moaning, "Ooh," every time I drop down and, "Mmmm ooh," every time I lift up. My body is constantly shuddering with pleasure. Ryan's head is back and he
grunts quietly, "Aaah, aaah, oh my God, aaah." It only last maybe three minutes, and I'm shocked I could hold off my orgasm that long. My climax comes roaring on me as violent as a cyclone. My boner's sticking straight out as I squeal and I gets erratic and out of rhythm riding his pole. Then my hips hump forward, cum pouring straight out from my boner. It's a short trip splattering on Ryan's shirt feeling so sensational I hold my breath, my eyes tightly closed, and I can't even breath as I'm shaking from another swift stream of cum flying out of my granite cock and splattering a little higher on Ryan shirt, about tits high. Gasping for air I'm sitting on his legs now, fully impaled, tightening every muscle in my body squeezing out more pure pleasurable drools of cum that lazily slide off to drip to the bottom of Ryan's shirt. My orgasm is finally finished, and I collapse forward against Ryan, weak and limp, moaning and sighing, just laying on him, too weak to hug him.
He says. "Well that was something to see." With my cum drooling down the front of his shirt, he lifts me off his cock, his bicep muscles bulging, as he says, "Get on your knees with your chest lying on the bed next to me."
I'm spent and not comprehending anything at the moment. Doing what he says is easier than trying to understand it, so I drop off the edge of the bed to my knees, hardly knowing where I am, still in the grasp of orgasm after-effects that buzz around my groin, and there's sparkling pleasant tiny electric shocks all up and down eight inches of my rectum. I shudder again, then sigh. That was so fucking hot!! Ryan gets off the bed and, standing behind me, he puts a hand on the back of my head pushing my face against the mattress as a light goes off in my dimwitted brain: oh, Ryan didn't climax yet. He says, "Lift that ass of yours, baby," and he gives it a hard, "SMACK!" for emphasis. I yelp, and get four more hard ass smacks. "SMACK!SMACK!SMACK!SMACK!" sounds rings out in the
room as I squirm on the bed, my buttocks on fire. It deepens my submissive sense but I know enough to lift my ass, avoiding a longer spanking.
Lifting it and pushing it way out for him, he mutters, "Good," and mounts me with one hard thrust of his big log of a cock. With eight inches of lumber up my ass, Ryan grinds against my buttocks for a few seconds relighting all those nerve endings inside me, then he fucks me harder than I've ever fucked Pony. My body bounces on the mattress as that huge hard boner plows back and forth in my ass, his crotch slamming into my buttocks. It takes another two minutes, just as I'm feeling my cock tightening up again, before Ryan grunts, "I'm gonna cum." His crotch now tightly against my buttocks humping against them and shooting a large creamy load of cum into my bowels. I felt the first big load hit off the walls of my rectum, seemingly way up inside me. He humps against me a few more times before groaning, then sighing and
lying on my back for thirty seconds. Sighing again, he lifts off me, mumbling, "Fucking fantastic. Jesus, I've missed you and your miracle ass."
He takes a deep breath, then pulls his cock from my ass, exclaiming, "Holy shit, I really got you opened up back here! Heh heh, I could stick an apple up that opening." The cooler air of the room drifts up my 98.6 degree wide open rectum, feeling weird. Ryan takes a couple of steps over to his dirty clothes basket and grabs a t-shirt off the top of the pile, and holds it to my ass. "Dylan, keep this on you asshole to absorb all the cum I just poured into you." My hand goes back pressing the shirt to my ass, which also blocks the cooler air from my rectum. I sense the gaping openness of my asshole back there. It will take quite a while to close back to normal.
With another deep breath, Ryan sits on the edge of the bed again, saying, "You're not done yet, boy. Get over here, between my legs," and he pats the edge of the bed near his softening big penis, sloppy with cum. Sliding my chest off the bed, still holding his t-shirt against my ass, I walk sideways on my knees, and get between his legs. I do it without giving it a thought as my trance begins to fade. Picking his cock up in my fingers, I put it right in my mouth and begin sucking and licking it clean. It takes longer then our fuck, but when it's eventually shiny clean, and shiny with my saliva, Ryan asks, "You about done?" I nod and give his balls a couple of licks until Ryan says, "That's enough. Stand up and pull my t-shirt off. It's got a lot of your once creamy cum on it, cum that's turned into a clear goo."
I stand, my cock still fairly firm from sucking cock. Ryan puts his arms up, so I drop the t-shirt from my ass on the floor and pull the shirt over his head, then drop it on the floor next to the cum saturated t-shirt. Ryan shoots me a hard look and I quickly pick up both shirts and drop them on top of his dirty clothes basket.
Back in front of Ryan, wondering what's next, I can't help reaching over to rub my fingers through his chest hairs. He only has chest hairs between his pecs, but he's still a sexy macho guy. Still partially maintaining his dominant role, he says, "Sit next to me, Dylan. Lets talk some more." I'm still feeling lingering submissive vibes, but nothing like I felt during the sexual heat earlier with his boner in my throat. That trance continued when I was basically fucking myself riding his hard thick long pole. Then the hard fucking he laid on me at the end, it all makes me shudder with pleasure all over again. Sitting next to him, probably too closely because I'm still in a slightly submissive trance, and mightily impressed with Ryan's confident dominance. His arm goes across my shoulders, as he says, "Well, you were right. We did the buddy sub/dom sex as hot as ever, and without needing to do your haircut first. I'm still gonna do the haircut though, so whaddaya think about that?" Before I can answer this startling news, he adds,"
You got to experience that awesome deep submissive sense you crave, and so what if we do this in reverse. First I gave you a hard fucking and now you can get to savor your haircut fetish. Fair is fair. I did my part."
It takes me two seconds to comprehend what he means, and then it's like: Can I believe the fucking nerve of this guy? His cheesy attempt to go ahead with my haircut claiming it's only fair because we had tough sex together.
As if he did the tough sex for my benefit alone and he didn't get just as much out of it as me. That puts a humongous damper on an otherwise excellent experience. It also makes the remainder of my submissive trance ping away, just like that... ping! Sitting up straight, then moving over away from him; Ryan's arm slides off my shoulders. With a look of incredulousness on my face, I stare at him a second. He half grins, asking, "What...?" I go, "We're way past that, Ryan! We passed the fuckin' haircut discussion forty minutes ago." He grins broadly now, "Well, you know I'm a tenacious nagger. What'd I have to lose by moving ahead with the haircut? You might have gone along with it." I go, "What do you have to lose? Really? You can lose my trust for one thing." He says, "Hey, I was sort of asking you. That's all I did... ask." I'm still staring at him, so he shrugs, saying, "Can I interpret your reaction as a no-go on the haircut?" I snort out a laugh, completely over the submissive part of the day. "Yes, you can interpret my reaction as a firm, NO!" He shrugs, "Maybe some other time then? I really like giving those fucking haircuts!"
I'm shaking my head, "Yeah, I guess you do. I like giving haircuts too, but I prefer giving haircuts that guys want." He says, "Yeah, but I've only got the one talent for haircutting." I'm being serious when I say, "It's a helluva talent too, if you'd use it correctly. I can't do fade haircuts as good as you do them. I've given guys that haircut recently, because they asked for it, but they didn't turn out as good as yours. Of course, then you fuck it up by cutting all the other hair off Timmy's, Jeff's, and my head, which isn't the way it's supposed to be done." He says, "I don't know about any of that. You're the guy with the haircut fetish and all the knowledge about haircuts."
He gets off the bed, picks up my underwear and pants, handing them to me, saying, "Well I enjoyed the hell out of our sex. It was twice as good as the sex we had when I first got here, and that was twice as good as any sex I've had since you left Georgia, so that'll tell you something." Putting on my underpants, I'm saying, "Thanks for the compliment, and here's one right back at you. When you say you get me hotter sexually than anyone else, you're right. You know every single button to push getting me groveling in your dominance." He mutters, "Thanks," then adds, "For all the good it does me, you still choose him." I go, "We're way the fuck past that discussion too." He nods his head, "I know, I know already."
As I'm buttoning my pants, the door opens and Steve walk in, saying, "Smells like guy-sex in here." Ryan goes, "Really? I can't imagine why," and Steve goes, "Well it's obvious though, isn't it? I mean, I'm looking at the faces on you guys and both of your expressions look contented. Should I read anything into that?" I go, "Yes, read into it that you're lucky you didn't pop in here fifteen minutes ago. It would probably have scarred you for life." He laughs, "Yeah, probably," then to Ryan, "What time we leaving for Boston?" Ryan says, "Felix works until two, so we'll probably leave around two-thirty. Is that good for you?" He nods, "Yeah, did you ask Dylan to join us?" Ryan musses my hair, hair that thanks to me is still attached to my head, as he tells Steve, "Yes, I invited him, but naturally he has other plans." I pick up my hat and, after finger-combing my hair, put the hat on, saying, "Thanks, Ryan," without elaborating. We smirk at each other, pretty much understanding each other's position on things. I'm leaving, so Steve asks, "Should I close my eyes?" Ryan says, "No need to," then puts his hand behind my head, pulling it down a little so he can give me a wet kiss on my mouth. The kiss lingers for a second or two as a shiver streaks up my spine, and again, I think, 'Why am I so attracted to him?' Wiping Ryan's saliva off my lips, I tell them, "Have fun bar-hopping in Boston." Pointing at Ryan I go, "I'll be texting you, boss," and he goes, "That's my boy." I bump fist with Steve as I pass him on my way out the door.
Going down the steps I'm having mixed emotions. I admit the first thing I think about is how great that sub/dom sex with Ryan was. No one can compare with him in that department. I felt fantastic in my stupid submissive trance, but there's no sense of joy or a feeling like something special happened afterwards. Totally different than after sex with Rob. I know something special was shared between us. With Ryan it's lust pure and simple. Sure I enjoyed slumming it in my dreamy submissive trance again. Sexual sensations by the millions provided me intense momentary pleasure. Then I have this nagging feeling that maybe I'm not so sorry he's transferring out of Merrimack. I know I'm disappointment at the devious and untruthful manner in which he tried a number of times to talk me into getting his ridiculously-short Marietta haircut! Yeah, and the fucking nerve of him already having filed the paperwork for his transfer, yet insinuating if I got the stupid weekly haircut from him he wouldn't transfer. So that was his initial lie. And then he wasn't especially contrite admitting the truth of the matter; it was a joke to him more than anything else. He gets a few points for admitting it at all, although claiming he was merely being persistent, just his normal nagging personality. I call it deceitful and underhanded. On the plus side he called me back when I was leaving, which for him couldn't have been easy. The other thing, on the plus side, is he didn't take advantage when I was deeply in a submissive trance. He could have told me to get the barber stuff and I wouldn't have been able to refuse; not in that state of mind anyway. That's where my trust in him comes from.
Stepping outside the dormitory I realize I left the toiletry kit on Ryan's desk again. Fuck! Yeah, but that was a pretty smooth exit I had there, so I'll leave it at that and get the toiletry kit another time. Taking in a big
lungful of cool air, I'm feeling okay. My ass hurts, but just enough that I know I've been fucked hard and rough. Dammit though, why is Ryan's sexual attractiveness there for me as strong as ever? Yeah, but I don't expect I'll have the urge to experience it again with Ryan for probably a week or so. That may be problematic for him, but it's how I feel right now because it doesn't have the grip on me, frequency-wise, that it used to. Robby's sex is the sex that has a grip on me now. I'm addicted to Robby, and addicted to his sex with me. I'm pretty much thrilled with that development too.
Ah yes, life is pretty good! Taking off my hat, I run my fingers through my hair and smile. I'm such an ass! Because of my fetish I actually gave a fleeting thought to getting another of Ryan's Marietta haircuts. It was enticing to flirt with my haircut fetish, but obviously I made the right choice this time. Our lives are full of choices, and the ones we make we've gotta own. I'm glad to own this one. Okay, it's getting close to lunchtime and I'm stranded on campus. Or am I? Taking out my cellphone I text Robby, 'Hey, where are you, Rob?' and a minute later he texts back, " `I'm at the Mall with Frankie. She needed a ride, and now she's buying me lunch. I thought you'd be with Ryan all afternoon.' He's with Frankie? Just the two of them? I text back, 'What made you think that? I'll see you when you get back.' Huh, I guess if he were with a ballplayer having lunch I wouldn't think twice about it, but since Frankie's a girl I do think twice about it.
That's kinda dumb of me though because Rob's more likely to have sex with a random ballplayer than he is with Frankie. I might as well get used to Frankie being around because she's apparently intent on it. She's okay; all three of the girls are okay. I can live with it, and it's probably doing me some good, social-skills-wise, I mean.
I text Chubby asking what he's doing and he text right back saying he, John Beverly, and someone named, Kicks, are at Rockingham Park betting on simulcast races from around the country. I wouldn't want to do that, but when the live racing season for Rockingham Park is happening I'd like to go and bet on some horses. My handicapping method is simple. I search for a meaningful horse's name in each race, and bet on that horse. I won thirty-six dollars on a long shot last year at the track with Chub and a guy who was in his junior year. Somebody Chubby knew. You need to be twenty-one to place a bet, which is where the kid in his junior year was helpful. Naturally I couldn't tell you the kid's name if you put a gun to my head. I'm not good with names. Anyway, I won the race betting on a horse called, 'Buckin' Dee'.
Dee is my mom's name, so betting on that horse was a no-brainer. I lost on a horse called, 'Dillon's Favorite'. Should have known better with the fucked-up spelling of my name. Anyway, betting at the track is fun, and this year I can place my own bets. That being said, Chubby's not available today.
Okay, with no better idea, I'm going to see if anyone I know is in the Quad. Walking there my cellphone rings with caller ID showing, Sam Styles.
Who? I answer and the guy asks if I'm giving free haircuts today. I'm like, "Um, who gave you this number?" He goes, "My bud, Steve Church," and I remember telling Steve how I like giving haircuts. Dammit! I'm like, "Gee, this is awkward, but I only do haircuts for guys I, um, know. Ya know?" He goes, "I know Steve and he highly recommended you. Especially the free part,"
and he chuckles. Jesus, the balls on this guy!! I go, "No offense, but I'm not feeling free haircuts right now. Have Steve introduce us sometime and maybe I can help you out. I'm pretty busy,; ya know how it is..." He goes, "Yeah sure. Um, just curious, what are you busy with right now?" I hit 'END'.
The nerve of some people! Then I look around. Maybe this guy, Sam, is looking at me right now. I need to text Steve and tell him not to offer my free haircuts to anybody else. Then I feel bad. Steve's a good guy and he might think I'm an asshole hanging up on his friend, Sam. Well, the guys number is right here on my cellphone, so I call him back. Sam goes, "We got cut off," and I say, "I thought you hung up on me. Um, you know, actually I'm not doing anything important right now, and since Steve's a friend of yours, sure I'll give you a haircut. Do you have a car?" He says, "Yeah. Ya know, I was in the process of calling you back when you called me. Heh heh, one minute I was talking to you, then nothing. Anyway, can I pick you up somewhere?" This blows, but I go, "Yeah, I'll be outside the Quad," and he says, "Thanks, I'll be right over." Okay, at least I got a ride back to the apartment. Fine something positive in everything... that's one of my mottos.
Sam's probably an asshole of course. Well, duh... you'd need to be an asshole to call a total stranger for a free haircut. An asshole with a set of ginormous balls! I light a cigarette feeling a bit intimidated. This guy is obviously not shy, so I need to be assertive with him. Two minutes later, as I'm exhaling smoke, I hear a horn toot a couple of times. Looking in that direction I see a big guy waving his arms. Huh, he is certainly big! The asshole part and ginormous balls part remains to be seen. I'll keep my wisecracks under control.
Walking towards him, he walks towards me holding out his hand, "Hi, Dylan, nice to meet you. Jesus, you are one good looking, dude. Steve didn't mention that." I go, "Ha, yeah, nice meeting you, Sam." He's well over six feet
tall. Maybe six and a half feet tall... big bastard. An average looking guy, with an average regular haircut that's grown out shaggily. As we walk to his nondescript car, he says, "I've got a date tonight, finally got a date, ha ha. So I better look my best. We're going to a party, which is a good thing 'cause I'm really low on cash. Did I mentioned, I really appreciate the 'free' part." I mutter, "No problem," and at the car I see a guy in the passenger seat. I look at Sam with a questioning expression on my face, and he shrugs, asking, "Do you mind? He's my roommate..." Ginormous balls don't do justice to this guy! I mean, I like giving young guys haircuts, but preferably young guys who actually look their age, and are maybe a tiny bit attractive. His roommate is as big as Sam and neither is slim, or the slightest bit cute. Actually, both could pass for thirty years old if they had to for some unimaginable reason.
Getting in the backseat, I'm introduced to Reilly Joyce, who's in the passenger seat. I give directions and they quiz me momentarily about my barbering. How'd I get into it, how old was I, and did my father or uncle have a barber background and maybe taught me the trade? They both mention how I gave Steve a really good haircut, and blah, blah, blah... I answered with short lies for every question because it's less trouble than offering the true background that resulting in me buying professional barber tools online. Of course the professional barber tools are still at Ryan's.
Sam and Reilly quickly lose interests in questioning me, and begin talking
guy/roommate talk among themselves. I take it they're double dating tonight. Obviously Sam had every intention of Reilly being included in the haircut picture from the start, but wisely didn't mention that small detail to me. He's probably the one with steel balls so he was elected to call. At the apartment there a close parking spot that Sam pulls into. Then inside the apartment, Reilly says, "Nice place. How do you guys keep it so neat?" I shrug, "My roommate and I are neat-nicks I guess, well he is mostly." He asks, "Oh yeah, whose your roommate?" I go, "Rob Dickers," and Sam asks, "The Merrimack's shortstop?" I nod, "Yeah," then point to the tiled kitchen area, saying, "I cut hair there, so if you'll help me push the kitchen table against the wall." As they do that, I'm look at them figuring the kitchen stool won't work. They'll be too high on the stool, so I mumble, "Just pull over a kitchen chair while I'll get the clippers and stuff." Sam says, "You wouldn't have a beer would you?" I nod toward the refrigerator, "Help yourself." As I'm getting the barber stuff laid out they both pop the top on cans of Bud, mumbling, "Thank, dude." I ask, "Who wants to be first?" and Reilly sits in the chair, saying, "Regular haircut, dude. Medium length. You know, like Steve's." I nod muttering, "Yeah, sure," and Sam asks, "You have a cape, right?" I shake my head, "Nah, the fucking thing got lost in the wash about nine years ago." Reilly swallows some beer, turning his head to look at me, "What do you use? A towel?" I go, "No, guys take their shirts off."
and he shakes his head, "No, get a towel or something. I'm not taking my shirt off." This isn't worth arguing about, so I reach over and grab the closest kitchen towel. This one happens to be made from thin material and is larger than most, so it'll do. I don't want to see either of their torsos anyway With the towel around his shoulder, I figure I'll intentionally duplicate a Super Cuts regular haircut, medium length. Not a haircut I'd want my name
attached to, but it's what this bozo wants. With a half inch guide on the clippers, I use them up most of the sides and back of his big head, then use scissors over comb to half-ass blend half inch hairs to the much longer hairs on top. Using clippers over comb I cut off an inch of hair off the top, then use the trimming clippers to outline around and behind his ears, then grin to myself as I'm exaggerating the squaring off of the hairs across the back of his neck. The half inch long hairs just ends on a blocked off line across the back of his neck. It's taken seven or eight minutes at the most, and during that time the roommates carried on a conversation with each other, excluding me. I'm just the barber, which is fine with me. When done with Reilly's haircut, Sam says, "Dylan, that's perfect. Same for me," and they switch places with Reilly brushing hairs off his lap, mumbling, "Thanks, man," then, pointing at his empty beer can, he asks, "Do you mind?" as he's nodding his head at the refrigerator. I'm like, "Help yourself," and Sam says, "Grab one for me too, Ry-man." Oh Christ, Ry-man! Sam's haircut takes me maybe a minute less then Reilly's, and Sam goes, "Awesome," slapping a high five with me, as Reilly adds, "I'm buying a barber cape on eBay and bringing it with me next time, donating it to you, Dylan." Sam's still brushing hair clippings off his neck, as he mumbles, "Yeah, and I'll get one of those soft barber's brushes as my donation," then to Reilly, "That couldn't cost much, could it?" Jesus, what assholes! And they said, 'Next time'. Both guys take their second beers with them heading for the front door, asking, "Can we drop you off someplace, Dan?" Oh yeah, that me: Dan the barber! I say, "No. No thanks, I need to clean up the kitchen, hair clipping and..." he doesn't let me finish, "Be cool, dude," and they're out the door. I think I just got overwhelmed by stronger personalities than my own. Or maybe I was right the first time: they're just a couple of assholes. If so, they are rocking the perfect haircut for assholes. I'd be embarrassed to admit I did those two haircuts, but they're just right for Sam and Reilly. And I think to myself again, they said, 'Next time...' Damn! After sweeping up the cut hairs and washing my hands and face, I look at my shirt and see hair clippings on the front. Pulling it off I put one on that I wore yesterday, then my hoodie goes over it. Stopping, I'm staring at the pile of dirty laundry for a bit. Mutter, "Balls," before shrugging to myself and pick up a heaping basket of dirty clothes. Using the elevator I take the clothes to the basement's laundromat area. Neither of the washing machines or dryers are being used, so I fill up both washing machines, put in two dollars each, then some detergent and turn those mothers on.
Upstairs I answer short text messages from the soldier boys, and an email from Seth, who says he can't wait for summer when he'll be able to see me again. Oh sure, there was none of that before he and his boyfriend broke up. Still, Seth and I had a sweet connection I thought.
During the next two hour I listen to sports talk radio, 98.5, and do four washing machines loads, plus four dryer loads, then fold everything. I'm doing Robby's wash for him while he's probably making out with Frankie again.
Actually I feel good getting my laundry done, and for doing Robby's too. I like doing things for him, and hell, when we're married guess who's going
to be doing our laundry... the head of the household, or moi? Good thing I don't have a big ego! Hungry now, I make two grilled cheese sandwiches and eat them with half a bag of potato chips and a Coke. Healthy meal. While lying on the sofa, just for the hell of it I text Ryan: 'I know ur in a Boston bar, but you said to text so I'm practicing.' He text back, 'This is more like it, Dylan. Text me in the morning. Steve's going home this weekend. U can sleep over." Goddammit! He knows better than that! I don't text back and he doesn't either. Then I think about it, and it's like why would he text back? He gave me my orders to 'text him in the morning'. But sleep over? What's wrong with him? I seriously am not even thinking about our next sub/dom sex, certainly not this soon after we just did it. Ho ho though, I need to admit I was often looking for it in Georgia. Since coming back tho ugh it's Rob's sex I'm looking forward too.
There some bumping at the front door and I hear a girl giggling as I'm lying here frowning, thinking, 'What the fuck?' Robby and Frankie come stumbling through the open door kissing. Robby's back is to me but Frankie sees me lying here on the sofa and she breaks off the kiss, telling me, "It's because of a bet Rob lost. He lost and had to kiss me." By now Robby's turned around and sees me on the sofa and his face gets so red and hot-looking it's could burst out in flames any second now. He points at Frankie, as he stutters, "She, it's her, she made a bet. Frankie won, you heard her, Dylan." I'm maintaining a neutral expression on my face as Frankie says , "Rob, Dylan doesn't care if we kiss. Now if it was your mother seeing you with a tart like me, that'd be a different story." She babbles on, thinking she's funny. Then she says to me, "I wanted to stop in at Tracy's for a brewskie, but your boyfriend said you guys have beer here, so..." I interrupt, "What was the bet you lost, Rob?" Robby's just standing there, like he doesn't know what to do, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Frankie's at the refrigerator, saying over her shoulder, "He bet me I couldn't name the teams that won the last five World Series." Robby says, "She named the teams back further than I could. I got the Cardinals and Giants World series mixed up, and
we Googled it. She was right."
He's relaxing a little, as Frankie holds up a can of Bud, saying, "This is the last one," and then she pops the tab and takes a swallow. Robby looks at me with a quizzical expression, like: Where'd the beers go? I say, "I gave two guys haircuts earlier today and they bummed a couple beers each from of our meager stash." Robby goes, "Oh, jeez. Well that's okay,; we have a case in our basement storage unit. Would you, Dylan?" I'm like, "You want me to go get it?" He nods, "Yeah, if you don't mind." Somehow he's reversed things in his head, like it's my fault for being here and seeing him and Frankie kissing again, therefore as punishment I need to get the fucking case of beer to make up for it. He raises his eyebrows, making a face like, 'Why are you still lying there? I get up, kind of admiring his approach.
He's my man after all, and maybe soon he'll be Frankie's man as well, or maybe he already is. Getting the key to the storage unit from the bowl of keys on the little table by the door, I say, "I'll be right back. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," and I'm out the door.
It's chilly in the unheated section of basement where each apartment has a
storage unit. I'm guessing it's maybe forty-five degrees in here so at least the beer is drinkable, although it should be cooler for our uneducated taste. I hump the case of Coors up and kick the door lightly. Frankie opens it and I carry the case to the kitchen bar. Robby and I load the beers in the refrigerator with Robby glancing at me, and finally saying, "Thank you for getting the beer, Dylan," and he leans over to kiss my lips. I smile at him, so he'll know all is well, and it is. If I saw him kiss Danny Monday I wouldn't have a heart attack, and I'm not having one seeing him and Frankie kissing... again. Robby's lips taste a little like lipstick.
We all get a beer and Frankie starts working on a poster-board, drawing an outline for keeping score of something. I'm like, what's up with that?"
pointing at the poster-board. Robby explains. "Oh, I didn't tell you. We're going to start a pinochle tournament with teams. The teams we had the other night to start with. Me and Frankie, Beth and Golden, you and Posse, plus we've inviting other teams. They'll be a money element each night, and an eventual jackpot winner." Well haven't Frankie and Robby been busy little beavers this afternoon. I say, "It's Pony, not posse." He goes, "What?" and I explain the nickname for Daryl. Then Frankie sends Robby to our bedroom to find a red magic marker. I'm thinking, 'What the fuck...?' when Daryl calls my cellphone. He wants me to run with him. He says, "It's three o'clock on a weekday, Dylan. Get your ass over here for our three mile run." I go, "Hold on a second," then yell so Robby can hear me in the bedroom, "Can I borrow the pickup for a couple of hours?" Robby's got a couple of magic markers, walking down the hall towards us, saying, " Sorry... what was that, babe?" I ask again and tell him why. He takes the keys from his pocket and tosses them to me, saying, "Bring your partner over here afterwards, we're having pizza and beer for our trial run of this fucked-up scorecard Frankie's drawing." She hits his arm, "Hey you! I'm not screwing it up."
I leave them to their fun and skip down the steps, still feeling good.
Okay, so maybe Frankie is planning on making a run at seducing Robby.
Robby's enjoying it obviously, but Frankie's not the first girl who ever tried getting Robby in the sack. He had plenty of offers in high school, and a few here at college from oversexed female types. And there were unfounded rumors in high school about who Rob Dickers, star pitcher of the baseball team, was fucking next. He wasn't fucking anybody; girls or boys, he was just too shy. Too shy to squash the rumors too, or maybe he liked the rumors. He was a pitcher in high school but not good enough to pitch at the college level. The Merrimack baseball coach was interested in Robby's bat though, although not interested enough to give him a scholarship. Robby's quite an athlete though, and became the team's starting shortstop as a sophomore.
Driving to the campus, and out of nowhere I have a vicious bout of intense jealousy, pounding the steering wheel and yelling obscenities at the top of my lungs, my face red and hot. Holy shit, I must have looked like a crazy person. Then I take a minute to focus my jealousy getting royally pissed at Robby, before changing my focus and aim some deadly venom towards that cunt, Frankie. The jealous episode lasts less then two minutes before I come to my senses, realizing I'm not sixteen and in puppy love, fer cristsakes.
Robby has a friend who's a girl, and they enjoy hanging out together.
That's the whole story... the end. Parking and walking to Pony's dorm I'm thinking how I don't want to do the almost silly-sex with Pony today. Not after mister master-dominator fucked me so well a couple of hours ago. Yeah, but if I bring Pony back to the apartment with me, like Robby told me to, we wouldn't have a chance to do anything anyway, not with all the other guys there. Problem solved.
Pony and I begin our run of three miles and right away I notice the soreness in my rectum. It's not so bad I can't do the run, but it's noticeable until around the last mile when it fades away. It made me grin to myself and recall the hot fuck Ryan laid on my ass. After the run we work up a bigger sweat in the fitness center that's oddly crowded this afternoon. Pony manages to get on the equipment he always works on, but he did it out of his normal progression today. I worked with free weights that aren't the 'in' thing enough for most of these guys and girls to bother with. No glamour in lifting free weights I guess.
In Pony's dorm afterwards, he asks his roommate, Tom Higgins, to play pinochle with us tonight. Tom's up for it, saying he'll bring a friend as his
partner. I hang out in the dorm room with Tom while Pony showers. He's back in five minutes wearing just a towel around his waist. Definitely not the
self conscious type, he drops the towel and looked for clothes to wear naked as a newborn. Tom paid him no attention, but I was fascinated that Pony's cock appears even smaller than I remembered. Funny how I'm not considering finding a way to slip in our silly sex somehow. I'd like to suck on his smallish dick again. Pony turns and grins at me, saying, "That was a good workout, huh, Dylan?" Cute guy, basically my size except for that one small matter, not that he apparently gives a shit about it. I nod, "Good workout, buddy. Too bad we can't finish it," and he makes a face, nodding at Steve who's not paying us any attention at all.
Walking to the pickup I rub Pony's buzzed head and he goes, "Don't get a big head or anything, but hooking up with you really makes me feel good." I nod, "You too, Daryl," and I give a thought to how hot it would be making out with him, hands all over his taut body. He's not a kisser though. When we get to the apartment Golden and Beth are already there, and they brought a card table and four folding chairs with them. So we'll have the card table, the kitchen table, and the coffee table. Three games can go on at the same time. As Pony and I crack a can of beer, two more baseball player teams show up with another case of beer. There's is on ice in a big cooler.
Everyone's talking at once and the radio playing as more guys and girls show up to plays cards on a Friday night. Pony sticks close to me, like gum on my shoe, but that's okay because I like him a lot.
When everyone's here, it's obvious they invited too many people. Too many teams, so a couple of teams need to wait until a team loses before they get to play. Frankie stands on a footstool and takes charge, stating the rules and getting Robby to collect ten bucks from each player for the prize money. Frankie tries explaining it to everyone her convoluted rules for who wins the jackpot. There's lots of give and take before everyone's more of less satisfied they have some idea how to win. Pony and I stay on the sidelines exchanging childish smirks while mocking some of the give and take participants. Then Frankie collects more money from everyone eliciting lots of grumpy remarks and smart-ass comments, but the money's for pizzas. Robby asks me to call in the order for eight large pizzas. I say, "Yes, boss," then wiggle my finger, like come over here. Robby makes his way to me and lean his head close to mine so I can whisper. "You're going to need to do an extremely good job in bed tonight to make up for the flirting and kissing you're doing with that skank, Frankie." He actually laughs, saying, "She's not a skank, but I'm all over your idea for us in bed tonight."
The card party goes on until one o'clock in the morning with Golden and Beth beating out one of the two-man baseball teams for the jackpot. The second place team lost by only twenty-two points and everyone wants a second place prize for future games. Pony and I didn't win a single game even though I tutored him about the nuances of the game while we waited for our place at one of the tables. After the jackpot is collected by Beth and Golden everyone begins leaving and I never do get a chance to fuck Pony. Robby gives four people rides to the campus, Pony being one of the four, and naturally, Frankie is also one of the four. She probably sat on his lap during the ride to dormitory row. Alone in the apartment, I turn off the radio and look around. If a tornado ran through here it wouldn't look much worse. Robby's back in a pretty fast time, so that's good. He's not drunk, just a little high. He goes, "This place looks like shit." I nod, and he goes, "Lets deal with it tomorrow." No complaints from me. After our bathroom necessities we're in bed talking while rubbing our hands over each other which leads to a hot make-out before we have the most perfect lover's sex... twice. We don't get to sleep until almost three o'clock in the morning. The most awesome thing though is knowing I have Robby all to myself for the weekend. Beth and Frankie both have families in the Boston area and they're spending the weekend with then.
We sleep until noon on Saturday, then lie in bed talking quietly about how things are going so far in our junior year, deciding to give it two enthusiastic thumbs-up so far. We don't mention Frankie, which might have gotten at least one thumbs down. Finally I'm like, "I've gotta take a wicked piss, Rob. I've been holding it in as long as I can." Robby goes, "Me too, boyfriend." We piss next to one another, then wash our face and hands, then brush our teeth standing side by side looking at each other in the mirror, grinning like dorks. Back in bed I get on top of him and we make-out like wild things for ten minutes or so until Robby rolls me off of him onto my back.
He pulls my boxer short below my buttocks, saying, "Give me that pillow, babe," and when I do he pushes my legs back, muttering, "Hold those awesome legs of your against your chest," and then pushes back on my legs raising my ass so he can put the pillow under it. All this time his four inch fat boner is sticking out the slit in his boxer shorts. He fucks me wicked hard this morning, grunting and really humping his boner up my ass. When I squeal at the onset of orgasm my cum shoots right into my face. Robby's humping against my buttocks, grunting out a laugh seeing cum drooling down from my forehead, then his expression changes as he's humping his load of cum up my ass. What a great fuck! We lay together sweating and breathing hard with our hearts pounding. Then, instead of getting out of bed, we both go back to sleep.
Around two o'clock we finally get out of bed both feeling pretty good.
No hangover for either of us, and then we go into the kitchen for coffee and just stop and stare. The apartment looks like eighteen college students were drinking beer and eating pizza for five hours in here. Robby mumbles, "What a fucking mess," a true understatement. We look at each other, turn back to look at the war zone, then Robby says, "Put some tunes on, Dylan. I'll make us coffee and then we'll slowly start cleaning this shit up." I flick on our radio at 92.5 FM, saying, "Next Friday we get promises from the girls they'll come over here Saturday morning. They can go home to mommy and daddy after helping us clean this place."
With rock music in the background, and very little conversation, we follow Robby's plan. Sipping our coffee we methodically and slowly, working like robots, concentrating on one area of the apartment at a time. Before we're done I carry out three separate trash loads as Robby's wiping counters and tables with Lysol kitchen cleaner. Then there's spot cleaning of the living room carpet, sofa, and chairs, and washing the sticky kitchen floor on our hands and knees. We get in the flow and after two hours we stand in the middle of the apartment looking around nodding our heads. Then I spot a beer can peeking out behind the refrigerator. I go over and dump it in the now empty kitchen trash can that I just lined with a brand new clean Huffy liner. It goes "Clink" and I ask, "What now, boss?" Robby says, "There's little pieces of stuff on the carpet. It's all over the fucking rug." I nod my head, saying, "That's a job for a vacuum cleanse, and we happen to have one in the closet." He goes, "The one we've never used?" I nod, "Yep, that's the one." Robby puts his arm on my shoulder, asking, "Who do you believe should run a vacuum cleaner, the head of the household, or...?" I go, "Um, me?" He goes, "Yeah, I think so." I nod my head and get the vacuum cleaner out, turn it on and that fucker sucks up everything! After running it all over the living room and even on the kitchen area tile floor, I turn it off and look at Rob, who's watched the entire process, He goes, "Jesus, a really good job, Dylan! If you'll pass the hose handle, or whatever it is, to me, I'll do the hall, our bedroom, then the bathroom." I nod, mumbling, "Are you sure, Rob? It should be my job," and the goes, "Maybe, but I'll do some of it this time." The annoying sound a vacuum cleaner makes continues for another ten minutes, and then silence except for Michael Jackson singing an oldie on the radio that I don't know. Michael turned himself into a freak before we were born, but what a talent !! So unique! After Robby's and my vacuum cleaning experience, we take a shower together
and with water pouring down on our naked bodies, we scrub and shampoo, bumping against one another, grinning and purposely rubbing our asses together. When we're clean as newborn babes, Rob puts pressure on my shoulders. I go down on my knees and suck his cock with him eventually getting the head of his boner in my throat for some deep throating action. A minute later he shoots a minor load down my throat, the last two spurts deliciously land on my tongue. Yum! Later, happily content with each other, we eat Italian subs in downtown North Andover, then screw around on campus and at the ballpark for an hour or so. Saturday night we go to the movies with Chubby and John Beverly. They didn't feel like having Saturday night dates. Something new.
After the movies we have a few beers at Tracy's, but Tracy isn't there. We get in around midnight and go to sleep in each other's arms without sex.
None this Sunday morning either, but we spend the day together in the apartment, never going out except to buy the Sunday Globe. After a big, albeit late, breakfast we pull the sofa over in front of the TV and watch the Pats game while lying together on the sofa wearing only boxer shorts and t-shirts. It's chilly so Robby gets a clean sheet and we snuggle under that touching each other and kissing during commercials. The Pats beat the Jets and before the four-fifteen game starts Robby fucks me slowly until we're both moaning in deep sexual arousal. I'm on my hand and knees, on the sofa.
Robby's on his knees behind me with the sheet over us like a tent. Robby's head is the tent pole as he's doing slow penetrations for maybe ten minutes until I could scream with the need to climax. I'm like, "Oooh, oooh, mmm, Rob, please," and a murmured, "Okay, babe," from him, and he begins pile-driving his fat cock up my ass hard and fast. In thirty seconds or less we blast off almost at the exact same second. Oh God, did that feel good! It also made a mess on the recently spot-cleaned sofa, so Robby, claiming he has to do all the heavy lifting during our sex, sends me to get wet paper towels. We wipe my cum off the sofa's arm, and his cum off my leaking ass and his now floppy dick. Then with our boxer shorts pulled back up we watched the second game while being obnoxiously in love, kissing and saying words of love to one another with lots of overdone compliments that we sincerely mean at the time we're saying them. Halfway through the second game I make chili for dinner. Robby watches me do it from his seat on a stool at the kitchen bar. The chili turns out too spicy but Robby, with sweat breaking out on his forehead, said it's the best he's ever had. We watch the first half of Sunday Night Football, then start making out again, rubbing each other's testicles and squeezing them now and then, giggling like school girls. That leads to us having another smoking hot fuck on the sofa, falling off in a pile at one point. Robby finishing me off with us standing, his arm around the front of my neck pulling my head back and his hips hammering his hard cock up my ass. My cum stream lands on the first cushion of the sofa a couple of seconds before Robby's filling my ass up again with his seed.
Gasping we both lean over, our hands on our knees, desperately trying to get our breath back. Later we're in bed talking about fucking ourselves to death and, just because we want to and we can, Robby fucks me again, with both of us our sides this time. This fuck continues for a delicious fifteen minutes. A lazily fuck that eventually produces squeaks from both of us as we shoot off our small orgasms, that are wonderful. Then we blame each other for instigating that last fuck, and truthfully I'm not sure which one of us started it. And even with all that we're both asleep before midnight.
And before I know it, it's another Monday morning of our junior year at college.
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@outlook.com
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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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