DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 4
By Donny Mumford
As we're getting out of the pickup Robby and I exchange smirks acting a little bit cocky because we're both feeling amorous and something good is likely to come of that. Robby had a bad start to his day waking up with a wicked hangover but you'd never know it now. The baseball team's first meeting of the year turned his day around nicely. Just meeting and reconnecting with his teammates, talking baseball, and planning for next spring's baseball season has him in a bouncy good mood. He oozes confidence and aggressiveness playing in a baseball game and I like watching him because his body language and interaction with teammates is all about leadership and taking charge. I get goosebumps at times sitting in the stands when he hits a home run or makes a great play at shortstop, thinking, 'Holy shit, that's my boyfriend!'
As for me, I've been in an energetic good mood since getting out of bed this morning. I also feel good that my reunion with Ryan this afternoon went as well as it did. We miscommunicated a little bit, but overall it was a good time. Early last summer we formed this unique relationship that strengthened week after week with Ryan totally in-charge of everything. That was a
couple of months ago though, so I was surprised to find I retained some of last summer's submissiveness being with him today. Apparently our sub/dom roles are not something that can simply be turned on or off like a faucet.
Frankly, I thought he handled everything almost perfectly in Georgia, but as our junior year progresses any sense I feel that Ryan's the boss will surely fade day by day.
Walking towards the apartment building Robby give me his mischievous grin so I grin right back at him and he playfully smacks my ass, saying, "I know why you're so frisky this afternoon, Dylan," and I go, "I know why too; it's because I didn't wake up with a hangover and it's been an all-around beautiful New England fall day." Still showing that grin of his, he smacks my ass again, saying, "No! They're not the real reasons. The real reason is your other boyfriend is back in town and you spent the entire afternoon with him doing God only knows what to each other," and then he gives me a third playful smack on my ass. Actually that last one kinda stung, so I go, "Hey! That hurt! You don't know your own strength, Rob." He chuckles, mumbling, "Wait'll you feel my smacks on your bare ass." I'm like, "Yeah, well let me set the record straight: Ryan is not my boyfriend and I didn't spend all afternoon with him." Robby's feeling a tad aggressive this afternoon and that makes my dick move sideways in my shorts.
Inside our apartment Robby gets his arms around the front of my neck pulling my back against his chest, then he kisses the side of my face. His hard bicep muscle is right under my chin, bulging a little. Oh yeah, he's my hunky, macho boyfriend alright! His other arm is around my stomach holding my ass against his crotch as he humps against my buttocks and begins sucking on the hickey he gave me a couple of days ago. In his tight grasp a touch of
claustrophobia tweaks my brain and I'm soon struggling against him as the hickey's beginning to feel raw. I go, "Stop, Rob! That stings." After two more licks on the hickey bump, he stops and kisses my cheek again, then lets me go, mumbling, "That hickey is just a reminder to your Georgia boyfriend that I'm your real-deal boyfriend." I'm like, "Get real, Rob! Hickeys meant something in fuckin' high school, but we're not seventeen years old anymore." Gee, Robby's jealous. How sweet is that?!
He pulls me back against him again and kisses me, then licks my ear. I turn around in his arms and put my arms around the back of his neck, saying, "I'm glad you're jealous, but there's no need to be, and just so ya know, I like the way you gave me a spanking for no reason." He grins, swatting my ass again, muttering, "There are probably reasons; I just don't know what they are." I kiss his mouth, then say, "Nope, there are no reasons." He murmurs, "I believe you," and we get into a sexy hot sloppy make-out that lasts two or three minutes before he grabs the bottom of my shirt, my arms go up, and Robby pulls my shirt up and over my head knocking my hat off. His fingers are at my shorts now, unbuttoning them, and then down they come along with my underpants...and just like that I'm naked.
He grabs my firm cock, asking, "Oh! You got this semi-boner from us making out, huh?" I nod, "Always, with you, Rob." He grins, murmuring, "I kinda like that," and, still holding my cock, he starts kissing and licking my face again. The spontaneousness of all this, plus the way Robby's being kind of rough, has me so hot and aroused. My face is flush and my breathing's ragged. Our noses bump as we move our heads, then our mouths connect and our teeth scrape together as we take turns sucking on each other's lips and tongue. I love seeing flashes of Robby's pink tongue as he licks across my lips, then pulls me over to the end of the sofa using my boner as a leash.
Gasping, he says, "Bend over and hold onto the arm on the sofa." I take a deep breath and do what I'm told as Robby's pulling his pants and underwear down to his knees.
Looking back I see his fat cock is boned-up so tightly it's sticking straight out of his pubic patch. He gives my bare ass three hard slaps; the sound of each one ringing out, "SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!" My back arches and my right hand goes back to ward off another smack but Robby pushes it away and rams his entire four-plus inches of fat boner up my ass, then leans tightly against my buttocks. Pain spikes in my head as I gasp, "Aaaah, aaah," then hold my breath while millions of nerve-endings swarm around my rectum easing the pain. Relief comes quickly and makes way for the pleasure that follows. Ooooh, that's so nice! My body relaxes as I moan, "Ooooh, oooh, mmm, Robby," and, reaching back with my hand, this time to grab his right butt cheek and try pulling him against my ass tighter. He humps against my buttocks a few more times, murmuring, "Feel good, babe?" I nod my head and grovel in the awesome sensation of Robby's hard cock totally filling me up back there, "Mmmm..."
Robby humps against my buttocks a few more times, then he leans over my back getting a hand on my forehead pulling my head back, stretching my neck.
He kisses the side of my mouth, then licks my ear again and sticks his tongue in filling my ear with saliva. Sounds have a hollow quality to them until I work my jaw clearing a pathway through the spit to my eardrum. His hand slides up my forehead to get a fistful of my bangs pulling my hair to keep my head back. Oh man, I'm feeling deliciously dominated and loving every second of it. Robby begins thrusting his hips now, fucking my ass hard.
We're both grunting as male fucking sounds echo throughout the apartment, "Slap, slap, slap, slap." My fingers grip the arm of the sofa to keep from falling forward at Robby's hard, fast thrusting. Oh how awesome it feels.
Sensations from all parts of my rectum sizzle in a flood of sexual pleasure as my boner throbs leaking precum bubbles that drop to the carpet below. This is a special submissive trance I'm in; special because it came on me compliments of my dominate boyfriend. Sooo friggin' sexy and hot!
My sexual arousal is always high when having any kind of sex with Robby, but his recent surge of rougher more dominant-like "topping" gets so intense I dreamily revel in it, wishing we could do this forever. There's a drawback to Robby's dominant rough fucking though, and it's that we have quick climaxes. They come on us too fast, although they're incredibly exciting and give me such a rush of pleasure it's hard to imagine anything better.
Robby lets go of my hair and slaps my ass, "Smack, smack," then humps against me so hard I lose my grip on the sofa's arm and my hands go down on the cush ion below, my stomach now on the arm of the sofa. His crotch humps against my ass, "Slap, slap, slap," for another thirty seconds before I squeal humping my hips, the head of my boner poking the side of the sofa as cum gushes out, splatters off the side with spray coming back hitting my shaved groin, then another streak of cum flies from my iron boner with brilliant lights going off in my mind and I hit a peak of pleasure, gasping as it rapidly begins its retreat. Every nerve ending in my body sizzles like little electric shocks for a second; incredible sensations with my ass and groin area sparkling and dancing for a last little bit before doing their complete fade to oblivion leaving me with a wonderful contended feeling, as I weakly moan, "Ummmm," then sigh.
At some point during my intense climax Robby had his orgasm and he's moaning quietly now lying on my back as his spunk drools out around his cock and down the inside of my legs. We lie like this for a short while, then he takes a deep breath, lifts off me and pulls his cock out of my ass giving my buttocks one last slap, "SMACK!" as he says, "Oooh, baby, that was sooo fucking gooood!" I lift off the arm of the sofa leaning back against him, murmuring, "You do that dominant stuff awesomely!" He gets me walking through the living room to our bedroom, his arm around the back of my waist, our sides rubbing together as we walk. Looking over at him I'm thinking how spectacular it is that we have a whole year of this in front of us, and how different it'll be with just Robby and me sharing the apartment. I'll miss seeing Chubby every morning, but Robby's right; this is going to be our best year ever...
In the bathroom, Robby say, "I'm getting the knack of that rough sex, huh babe?" Most guys who 'Top' expect compliments from their bottom, especially dominant tops. So, I say enthusiastically, "I'll say, Rob! I get so fucking hot when you're in your dominant mood." He says, "Oh, fuck that. I don't think of it as being dominant, although ya know, I guess I can see the attraction to it, especially the part where I'm smacking your ass... heh heh.
You being my bad boy and all." I go, "Uh huh," and he adds, "But the problem is I get so aroused that, for one thing, I forgot to make you suck my cock, and another drawback is I climax too fast. Two problems, but it was still hot!" I'm like, "Ha, you don't need to make me suck your cock, I love sucking it! And as far as quick climaxes go, they're the hottest and most intense kind. When we do our lover's sex everything goes slower for a deliciously longer time, but rough sex is BANG WOW!"
We're in the bathroom as he says, "Anyway, it's your job to remind me if I forget to have you suck my cock. I'm really into that deep throating stuff!" We both chuckle a little, then he kisses me on the mouth, saying, "Seriously though, sex aside, I love you so much, Dylan." I hug him, murmuring, "Me too, Rob." Instead of merely cleaning up we decide to take a long shower together washing each other's body. He goes, "Look how long your hair is, Dylan," and he makes the front hairs stand up with the help of gobs of shampoo. He says, "Your hair is almost two inches long in front." I go, "Whoop-dee-doo," and he goes, "Dammit though, I should have given you the haircut before we showered." I let that comment hang in the air because I'd rather Robby not try doing anything with scissors or clippers. I don't want his inevitable 'Oops' mistake to result in a short haircut to cover up the 'Oops'.
We finish our long shower with a doggy style fuck; water still pouring down on us like our last shower together. After sucking his cock into a hard fat spike I drop to my hands and knees with Robby behind me, his legs bent, his slippery hands holding onto my hips as he humps his boner back and forth in my ass hard and fast. It's a super quick doggy-fucking for the pure sexual pleasure of it. Our climaxes are small, but feel really good. After some hugging and kissing we finally get out and dry ourselves with Robby saying, "Awesome fun sex this afternoon, huh, Dylan?" I nod my head stupidly-fast, making him chuckle. Dried off and walking into the bedroom, Robby mumbles, "I guess you should call your boyfriend and tell him I'm okay with him coming for dinner." I yell, "Stop calling him my boyfriend!" He ignores that, adding, "And I'll call my freshman, Golden, about your dinner party tonight." I go, "It's not a dinner party, Rob! Don't tell him that. It's just a simple dinner on the grille, like chicken maybe." As I'm picking up my cellphone, I ask, "What's Golden's first name?" Robby gets his iPhone from the pocket of his dirty jeans, mumbling, "That is his first name. You know, like Golden Tate, the Detroit Lions football player. This kid's last name is, Summers." I go, "Really? Jezzsus! Golden Summers, huh?" Robby shrugs, "That's his name, what can I tell ya?" Shrugging, I call Ryan but get his voice mail, so I leave a message, 'Call me. And don't eat anything! Dylan'
Robby's finished his call to Golden Summers, telling me, "Okay, I gotta pick the kid up in forty-five minutes. He says he needs time to get ready even although I told him its super casual and he could wear pajamas for all we care." I nod, "Okay, I'll take the pickup and head over to Stop & Shop.
Ya wanna come with me?" He saunters over to me and pinches my cheek, "You bet I wanna come with you, cutie." I lean into him, saying, "You're getting more and more irresistible, mister head of the household." He messes my hair, "Oh really? Are you saying I'm taking good care of you so far?" Again I nod my head too fast, like a dork, "You're taking care of me better than ever, Rob. Keep it up!" Grabbing his keys, he says, "I'm enjoying myself immensely, so I believe I will keep it up." We walk out the door as I go, "Was that an intentional double entendre, or an accidental one?" Robby goes, "Ooh, no, not intentional, no. I'm not as clever as you with words, but I meant that double meaning too." I mutter, "Good, you'll need to keep 'it' up."
Robby drives us to Stop & Shop, which is a mere mile up route 114. Inside he pushes one of the little shopping carts as I throw food stuff in it keeping the meal simple: romaine lettuce, a long English cucumber, a couple of native grown tomatoes, and a red onion for the salad. Two T-bone steaks; each over a pound and a half and a large bag of frozen French fries; the fast food kind. Lastly a box of frozen onion rings. For dessert I put a whole frozen Edward's brand Key Lime pie in the cart. It'll be defrosted by the time we're ready for dessert. At self-service checkout the total cost comes to, $51.58, which we split. I could have cut that almost in half by serving chicken instead of steak, but it's our first dinner in the apartment so I went with the steak. Maybe I'm trying to impress Golden Summers... ha ha.
He's gotta have a nickname, right? On the way back to the apartment, Robby says, "I'm still gonna do your haircut." I roll my eyes, but don't comment, so he looks over at me, sternly saying, "Right, Dylan?" Gee, I like the way he said that with a little authority behind it, so I go, "If you say so, boss." He goes, "It's not a matter of being the boss, Dylan. You're starting to look like that unkempt, Harry Black, and I want to be proud of my boyfriend's appearance." Oh my gawd, Harry Black? That hurts!
We say no more about it until back at the apartment putting the groceries away, Robby says, "Would you mind getting your haircutting things out now."
I think about protesting, but instead head for the bedroom where the barbering toiletry kit currently lays in my bottom desk drawer. It's the home barbering kit I bought at a pharmacy in Marietta. Ryan has my professional clippers and scissors. On my way back from the bedroom I see Robby glancing at the kitchen's digital clock, then angrily saying, "Dammit, I've gotta pick up Golden now. I'll have to do your haircut when I get back." I go, "No, Rob! Not with that kid here. Pick him up later, please. Jesus, I'll look like a geek getting a home haircut with him watching." Robby says, "It's impossible for you to look like a geek, babe. While I'm doing your haircut I'll send Golden to the balcony with a beer or something. Do what I said and lay out the barber stuff. I gotta run now." He's getting his keys off the kitchen bar, telling me, "One of the important points of emphasis for a freshman is to be on time, so I gotta set the example. I said forty-five minutes, but I'm picking him up in forty minutes." I roll my eyes, reciting what Robby says the coaches always tell the players, 'If you're here on time, you're late!' What bull crap... how can you be on time and be late?
When Robby leaves I drop the toiletry kit on the coffee table and yell, "Balls!" Then, mocking myself, I say out loud in a sing-song voice, "Well, he is the head of the household... like you fucking insisted he be, ya dope!" Fuck it, why do I care what someone named 'Golden' thinks? And a freshman no less! For something to do I start pulling the salad fixing back out of the refrigerator to make tonight's salad. I'm almost done with that when my cellphone rings. It's Ryan and I talk him into coming for dinner tonight, convincing him Robby's totally cool with it. Ryan tells me his roommate, Steve Church, texted that he won't be arriving until tomorrow afternoon, so after he showers Ryan will drive over in his Mini. Okay then, that's settled. Then Chubby calls asking what time's dinner. He and John Beverly are just now dropping the girls off and then they'll need to take showers too. I tell him don't rush, "When you gets here, bro, we'll put the steaks on."
Yes, that's the plan: I'll get Chubby to do the grilling and then slice the steaks on the bias. Thinking about that I start worrying that I didn't buy enough steak. They'll be six guys for dinner: Robby and Golden, Ryan and me, Chubby and John Beverly, so three pounds of steak means a half pound each. Jeezus, I should have bought a third steak to be on the safe side.
Okay, what the fuck, I won't take much steak myself. That's settled, so I get a pot with a lid for the French fries, then pour a half inch of vegetable oil in the bottom, and that's all the prep work there is. Yeah, this is a low maintenance meal.
For the hell of it I check myself out in the bathroom mirror, then brush my teeth again. I'm able to comb my hair now with a partial part on the left
side of my head, and the hairs in front combed over to the side. There's something wrong with the way it looks though. Something to do with all the hairs being the same length, but fuck it though, I don't feel like messing around with it now. My hair's growing out and it's already a damn good start, and if a miracle happens and Robby doesn't fuck it up too badly my hair will start looking more like a normal head of hair in a couple more weeks.
That's a big IF of course, but I'll try talking him through it. And, it'll serve as closure as far as Ryan having any thoughts about giving me a haircut, although he only mentioned it once, and in a mocking manner. Still in the bathroom, I'm looking closely for beard growth when I hear Robby and his protégée, Golden Summers, coming in the front door talking about... what else, baseball.
Robby calls out, "Dylan, where are you? I want you to meet someone." As I'm walking out of the bathroom I hear the freshman say, "You have a nice place here, Rob. Just the one roommate?" Robby says, "Yeah, just me and Dylan," and as I walk in, he says, "And here he comes now. Dylan Newman, meet Golden Summers." We do half a handshake interlocking just our curled finger while patting each other on the shoulder, asking, "Hey, how ya doing? Nice to meet you." Robby tells me, "Golden's an infielder, um, second base to be specific, although he can play third too." I nod, saying, "Huh, that's good I guess. Where ya from, Golden?" He looks me in the eyes and seriously says, like he's proud of it, "I'm from Crown Point, Indiana. Have you ever heard of it?" I shake my head, "No, can't say that I have." He goes, "Its home
of the infamous Lake County Jail from which John Dillinger escaped using a wooden gun in 1934." I'm raising my eyebrows and nodding my head, kinda at a loss as to how to respond to that bizarre factoid.
Robby says, "Guess what, Dylan? You're in luck. Golden has five brothers who he's been giving haircuts for years. As a favor to me he says he'll do the home haircut for you." I blush a little, mumbling, "Huh, so you told Golden about me needing a haircut?" He shrugs, "Well yeah, um, it came up while we're driving over here." Golden says, "Where should I do it, Rob?"
Robby asks me, "Where do you think would be a good place to do your haircut, Dylan?" I'm like, "I don't know, but more importantly I don't wanna do it now. Golden will be around tomorrow or the day after, but right now I'm getting dinner ready." Ignoring me, Golden asks Rob, "Where are the clippers you said he has," and Robby points to the toiletry kit on the coffee table, saying, "Everything's in there," then he asks Golden, "How about out on the balcony for his haircut?" Golden shrugs, "Is there an electric outlet?" and they go out to check on that with Robby grabbing the toiletry kit and taking it with him.
Golden is nice looking in a macho, handsome way except he has what I call an ass-chin. There's an indentation, like an ass crack, in the middle of his chin... if you know what I mean. He also looks older than say Robby, me, or Chubby. And he's only a freshman too... so he's what, eighteen or nineteen years old? I gotta wonder how old he'll look when he's our age.
Whatever, he has long curly light-brown hair that covers his ears to his earlobes, and his hair is even longer in back. I'm not a fan of long hair on guys but it looks kinda cool on this kid. He's not wearing an earring in either ear, he has bright brown eyes and he shaves what appears to be a fully realized beard, but the main thing I noticed about him is there's nothing that hints at him being gay. In that regard he joins the ranks of like ninety percent of all males... supposedly. Height-wise he comes almost up to Robby's eyes so that would make Golden about five feet, eight inches tall, or at least two inches shorter than Robby and me and an inch taller than Chubby. The kid's got broad shoulders and he's kinda stocky, but not in a bad way. I'd say he's probably popular with the girls, looking like an athlete and moving smoothly like one too. I haven't noticed any 'attitude' coming from him, and now that I think about it, he was kinda sweetly naive telling me proudly about his corn-pone home town's famous jail. Of course, there's a few famous spots in Boston too. Then there's his name; he's gotta have a nickname.
Robby sticks his head in from the balcony, saying, "Dylan, good news; there's an outdoor electric socket for the balcony. Um, Golden says to bring out one of the stools from the kitchen bar. You can sit on that during your haircut." I puff out my cheeks; then, while exhaling, mutter, "Balls," and Robby says, "Just get the damn stool, will ya? Golden's doing you a favor."
Begrudgingly I pick up the stool and carry it out, telling Golden, "Just so you know, dude, I do not want a haircut per se. I just want a trim around the ears, and that's all!" He nods, "Yeah, Rob mentioned that, but I know what the fuck I'm doing, okay?" I shrug, and he adds, "And get a towel or something to put across your shoulders." He says everything in that matter-of-fact manner. Not being rude or offensive, but more like an offhanded, no nonsense... just do it! It's that sort of thing. I say, "I don't need a towel; I'll take my shirt off." As I'm doing that, I say emphatically, "And, Golden, I don't care if you think you know what you're doing or not, the fact remains that I still just want a trim around my ears!" He shrugs and waves his index finger at the stool, like, 'Yeah, I got it. Sit the fuck down.'
lt was that kind of a finger wave.
Handing my shirt to Robby, I sit on the stool, then notice four guys on a balcony two unit over drinking beers and looking at us. They're age appropriate for Merrimack students. Two of the guys begin chanting, "Buzz cut, buzz cut, buzz cut," making Golden laugh much harder than that unfunny and un-clever chant deserves. Golden yells back, "He only wants a trim," and they yell back, "You got the clippers, dude. You da man!" I'm looking at Robby, gesturing with my hands, like, 'Really?' Robby waves at the guys, yelling, "Shut the fuck up. This is a delicate operation." They laugh again and go back to doing whatever it was they were doing before Golden picked up the clippers.
It's like he's examining the clippers, then he puts it down and picks up the scissors and comb, saying, "Jesus, this is all cheap home-haircut shit you can buy in a drugstore." I nod, "Yeah, my professional stuff is lent out to someone," and he asks, "Why didn't you lend him this shit and keep the professional equipment for yourself?" I look at Robby again with a, 'Can you believe this shit?'' expression on my face. Robby says to Golden, "Look, this is what we have to work with. If you don't want to use these things, I'll do it myself. We don't need a lot of negative shit from a freshman, alright?" Golden shrugs, "Jeez, I'm just saying. Yeah, I guess I can work with this drugstore barber equipment. These scissors actually look pretty sharp," and he's opens and closes them a few times, muttering, "Let's see," as he combs down my bangs and cuts, "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch," along my forehead, cutting off a half inch of hair. I'm looking at Robby again with a, 'what the fuck...' expression. He has a pained expression on his face as Golden mumbles, "Whoever gave you your last haircut should be strung up by his balls!" Robby yells, "He just wants the hair trimmed off his ears and in back! Nobody said anything about cutting his hair in front or on the top or anywhere else. Jesus!!" Golden goes, "Okay, okay! Sorry, Rob... chill, dude!."
I'm rolling my eyes looking down at my lap where three weeks growth of my bangs stares back at me... mother fucker! Golden puts a hand on my head pushing it to the side a little, asking, "Do you want me to do this or not, Rob?" Robby waves his hand, "Do it, but with a lot less commentary." Golden mumbles, "Okay already." The hand on my head is big; a bigger hand than I'd expect for a guy his size. He's pushing my head over the way Ryan does it, then the scissor make the subtle sound, "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch," cutting through the hairs that have grown over my ear. Then, "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch," cutting down the hairline behind my ear. Not fast, but Golden's confidently using the scissors giving me hope for a decent result... maybe.
Well, to be honest about it, I can tell from the way he's using the scissors he knows what he's doing. Walking around to my other side, Golden pushes my head the other way with Robby asking, "Shouldn't you use those trimmer clippers thingie too?" Golden says, "Of course, but I'm getting the bulk of the hair off his ears first with the scissors. Isn't this the way you'd do it?" Robby goes, "Oh yeah, probably. Um, I just wondered about the trimmer, um, clippers..."
It's the same, "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch," sound of the scissor cutting through a bunch of dry clean hair over the top of my other ear. Now I'm getting seriously encouraged this will turn out okay; that is, until Golden continues, "Scrunch, scrunching," along the back of my head. I can tell he's cutting too far up from my hairline, squaring it off in back. I'm pissed now, but there's nothing to be done about it. It'll look just like that guy's haircut I saw earlier today walking out of that barbershop on Main Street.
It's the SuperCuts, cookie-cutter-haircut everyone seems to get nowadays.
I let out a noisy exhale and Golden stops cutting halfway across the back of my head, asking, "What the fuck is wrong now?" and I go, "I didn't want the back squared off like that." He goes, "Oh, no worries, I'm going to round it off in back," and I yell, "NO!" and in a calmer voice, "That's even a worse." He goes, "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. I've never seen anyone make such a fuss about a haircut. Especially considering the last shitty haircut you got." Apparently Golden is unable to keep his opinions to himself. Plus, my concern doesn't appear to bother him all that much because, undaunted, he finished the last couple scrunches, saying in a bored, or maybe irritated manner, "Anyway, this is the way it's supposed to be done, in case you're unaware of that. And, Jesus, you two are really something," meaning dumb Robby and I. And this coming from a fucking hick farmer freshman from Indiana no less!
I'm rubbing my nose and biting my tongue. What's the sense arguing about it now that he's already done it his way? The main thing is, except for the bangs, he's left untouched the hairs all over most of my head so they can continue growing out and eventually be completely comb-able. Golden uses the trimmer clippers to do a good outline around my ears, and behind them.
Okay, he did that good. Then he uses the trimming clippers on the back of my neck to finish the home haircut a-farmer-gets-from-his-wife look.
Obviously just squaring it off in back requires less skill and is faster and easier than tapering it, which I suppose is why most barbers adopted that 'look'. Contradicting what I'm thinking about this type haircut, Robby says, "Golden, that's a very professional looking haircut." Golden mumbles, "I'd certainly hope so, I've only done about three hundred haircuts like this for my brothers and friends over the years, although I'm not done with Dylan's haircut yet."
That's what he thinks. I'm brushing hairs off my shoulder standing up.
Golden puts his hand on top of my head pushing me back down on the stool, saying, "Stay still, Dylan, I'm not done yet," and before I can object he combs up my bangs cutting more off as he's moving the comb backwards creating a shower of hair clipping drifting down my chest and stomach to land in my lap. I'm speechless as he does it again, explaining to Robby, "His bangs are too blunt just cutting across his forehead with every hair the same length." Then he combs down my shorter bangs, combs them up again and cuts off more hair leaving me sputtering, "What the...?" After this last cut, he combs the hair down on my forehead again, and surprisingly it's still only a half inch shorter. I understand now; he cut the hairs from further back, tapering the bangs in front so they now easily comb to the side. I knew something was wrong when I was checking my hair out just before they got here.
Golden says to Robby, "See?" and Robby goes, "Yeah, nice. You're really good at this, Golden. I'm fucking impressed, dude," and they bump fists with Golden mumbling, "And you two are hard to please, so thanks, Rob."
I should be royally pissed off, except the thing is, Golden's right about it being a much better look this way. I can't believe I didn't think of that myself. Guys like Robby don't get the concept of haircutting; but, like me, Golden definitely does gets it. Without asking what I think about things, Golden goes ahead and does the same tapering above my ears and all around the back of my head. Many short hair clipping fall on my shoulders or down my back. I don't protest because now I have confidence he's good at this, and my hair will grow out correctly instead of sprouting out at the same length all over my figgin' head. He's done the sides and back in about three minutes, then he combs it before dropping the scissor in the toiletry kit, saying, "That's pretty much perfect. What do you think, Rob?" Robby goes, "Holy shit, that's really good, Golden! No shit, that looks like a Dylan haircut, and he's almost as good as you." I look at Robby, and he goes, "Um, I mean you're both awesome barbers." Then the turncoat says, "Um, would you mind, Dylan, if I ask Golden to give me a trim too. You know, since we've got everything out and all. That's if you would, Golden." I stand up, saying, "Thanks, nice job," to Golden, and then, "Of course I don't mind, Rob," although I mind very much. Robby takes his shirt off and says, "Just like Dylan's." I'm going inside as Golden's telling Robby, "I'd need to cut a lot off the top, Rob, for it to be like his."
In the bathroom I check out Golden's barbering and I'll be dammed if it doesn't look much better than I ever hoped it would, especially after the way he started. Yep, by tapering just a little it makes the other hairs look longer and everything goes together so much better now. Getting a hand held mirror I check out the back of my head from the reflection off the bathroom mirror and it looks really professional and pretty much the way I'd want it. And I gotta admit the tapering in back makes the squared-off hairs look okay too. I feel goofily happy about this fucking haircut. Golden is good, and now I've got a barber I can have confidence in. Plus, I really liked the way he just went ahead doing it the way he knew would look best in spite
of my instructions to the contrary. Damn, this is a hugely pleasant surprise. The not so good surprise though is Robby wanting Golden to give him a haircut. It's the first haircut he's gotten from someone other than me in almost three years. Yeah, I'm fucking jealous about that, and disappointed too that Robby would ask Golden to do it. Well, maybe it's part of Robby's mentoring process. Doing whatever helps develop a bond with Golden.
The doorbell rings, and opening the door I see sexy looking Ryan, who says, "You sure Rob doesn't mind that I'm here?" I go, "I'm positive! Plus, this is my place as much as his." He nods, mumbling, "Of course it is," and I say, "Anyway, what's with you and Rob? Last night you were thick as thieves." He shrugs, "Nah, we were mostly trying to out-brag each other last night. It was one phony conversation after another all night. I got the feeling from subtle things he dropped sarcastically into the conversation that he's still enormously pissed-off about the time you spent with me in Georgia, and somehow he blames me for it." Not sure what to say to that, so I ask, "What do you think of my haircut?" Ryan comes in and closes the door, then walks around me examining my hair, and says, "It looks really good, Dylan.
Damn, I couldn't do that haircut. I've only got the one haircut in my repertoire. The specialty haircut just for you." I go, "Me and the other two Marietta boys. Ya know, I was thinking a little while ago that there just might be a time in the future that I'll ask you to do that haircut for me again." He grins, "There's no 'might' about it, Dylan. I know you'll ask me to do it. Right now you probably don't think you will, but you'll need that fetish rush sooner or later." I go, "Dream on if you must." Walking in the kitchen, he asks, "Where'd you go for the haircut? SuperCuts?" Shaking my head, I mutter, "No, that kid out on the balcony just finished giving me this haircut."
I'm getting cans of beer from the refrigerator as Ryan's straining his neck trying to see what's happening on the balcony. Passing him a beer, I say, "The new kid is giving Rob a haircut now, but don't you get any ideas 'cause I'm doing your haircut, and soon. You look like some goof-off from the eighties." Ryan goes, "Hey! I like this look, and um, I'm sorry that your boyfriend is letting someone else cut his hair. You must be pissed about that." I shrug, "Not in the least," racking up another little white lie. Saving face, ya know? Ryan goes, "I thought I was the only one besides you who ever cut Rob's hair." I'm like, "When did you cut his hair?" He shrugs, "Freshman year, but it didn't work out well at all. Remember when we had the threesome thingie with Rob as our leader?" I shrug, "Oh yeah, how could I forget that? Anyway, no one else has cut his hair until now." I'm working hard at pretending it's no big deal Robby's getting a haircut from Golden, but it definitely hurts. Ryan catches a glimpse of Golden as he's picking up the trimming clippers, and goes, "Who the fuck is that guy anyway?" I say, "He's a freshman scholarship baseball player. Rob was voted a co-captain by his teammates, then the infielders' coach assigned a scholarship freshman to each of the co-captains. This one's name is, Golden Summers." Ryan laughs, and I go, "No, I'm serious, that's actually his name."
We walk out on the balcony as Golden's finishing Robby's haircut. It looks exactly like mine except he did not make it as short on top, which would have been stupid. For my last haircut from Ryan he used clippers on the crown of my head, the prick. It gave me an amazing haircut-fetish rush though, but then afterwards I hated it being cut so short. Thinking about that I realize, Hey, I got zero arousal from my haircut fetish while Golden was cutting my hair! Huh, that is puzzling. Robby's standing, brushing hair clippings off his lap. He glances up at me and actually blushes and looks guilty.
I'm trying hard to keep a neutral expression on my face. Golden meanwhile is meticulously cleaning the clippers using the little brush provided in the kit for that purpose; the one I've never used. I tap him on the shoulder and introduce him to Ryan noticing that Golden has a cute smile. It's the first smile from him I've seen. There's a little space between his front teeth and I've always thought that a cutely cool-look for a guy. Ryan and Golden do a fist bump and a quick 'nice to know you' routine, then Robby walks next to me while putting his shirt on, asking, "Can I see you inside for a second, Dylan?"
Leaving Ryan with Golden to make small talk, I step inside with Robby and follow him to the kitchen, where the guys on the balcony can't see us.
Robby puts a hand on each of my shoulders, saying seriously, "I shouldn't have asked Golden for a haircut, babe. It was a poor spur-of-the-moment decision on my part and I'm sorry. It's just that I got caught up in the moment seeing you seemingly so pleased with the haircut he gave you, and I was thinking how it might further Golden's sense of acceptance if I asked for a haircut too. You know, do some bonding with him. I think he looked pleased, a then too late I saw how hurt you were. I felt sick to my stomach for hurting your feelings. You're a much better barber than he is." I go, "No, I'm not. He's probably better, and I guess I was kinda hurt, but that's just me being a baby. It's okay, Rob, really! I'm totally over it."
He nods his head looking me in the eyes to see if he believes me I guess.
Then he hugs me, asking, "Really? It's okay then?" I go, "Yes! What's one haircut?" He murmurs, "You're wonderful, Dylan," and with a sly grin, asks, "How about we do some slow lover's sex in bed tonight?" I shrug, "You're the head of the household, Rob, that's up to you." He goes, "I knew you were still pissed-off at me. I explained what happened, admitted I was wrong, and said I'm sorry." Nodding my head, I mumble, "Yeah, you did, and it's okay, seriously, no problem." Then, to move on from that topic, I ask, "Hey, does Golden even know we're a gay couple?" Robby goes, "Yeah, I told him."
I'm like, "You told him?" He's like, "Yeah. When the infield coach assigned freshman players to us co-captains, Danny and I went off to separate areas to talk with our freshman. That was one of the first things I told Golden."
Looking surprised, I'm like, "Holy shit! What'd he say?" Robby says, "He shrugged and told me it wasn't a problem. Get this: one of his twin brothers is gay. He says they're fraternal twins, not identical." I go, "No shit!
So he's cool with it, huh? Good for him." Hmmm, that is interesting. If a brother is gay the chance of another brother being gay is supposedly slightly higher than the norm.
Golden and Ryan come in off the balcony, with Golden's telling me, "I cleaned everything, Dylan. Um, do you think I could borrow the barber stuff? My
roommate is expecting a haircut when my barber equipment gets here. Mom's mailing it UPS 'cause I stupidly forgot to bring it." Oh, he forgot to bring his very professional barber stuff to college, huh? My shitty drugstore equipment is apparently okay now after all. Yeah, yeah, but no sense me acting like a baby any more than I already have. I force a smile, saying, "Sure, you can borrow this stuff whatever you need it providing you promise to give me my next haircut." He goes, "Thanks, um, yeah I guess you could text me when you need a haircut. If I'm not too busy you could probably come over to my dorm sometime in six or eight weeks or so." What an ungracious response! I might find that I don't like Golden all that much. He says, "Rob, can I have the keys to your pickup. I'll put the barber kit in there so I don't forget it." Robby tosses him the keys and as Golden's going out the door, Danny Monday's coming in. He's all smiles and looking good. He has almost a full beard now, but it's the kind that outlines neatly on its own. It looks soft and it's short, neat, and I gotta admit... sexy. Danny's a really good looking guy too; one of those rare guys who seem to get better looking the older he gets.
Danny and Robby do a good two arm hug, grinning at each other, then Danny points at the door with his thumb, asking, "Was that your freshman who just left?" Robby goes, "Yeah, Golden Summers." Danny laughs, "Yeah, that's the name. We gotta think up a nickname for that kid." Then he takes a couple steps over to me, "Hiya, Dylan!" and I get a two-arm hug like the one he gave Robby. Danny's body feels like Robby's and he smells good too. His soft beard rubbing against my cheek during our hug got my dick firming up a little. If he and Robby are doing some buddy sex together I can't say I blame either of them. I'm jealous, but I don't blame them. Ryan gets reintroduced to Danny, although they vaguely know each other from last year.
Golden comes back from dropping off the barber tools and brings with him Chubby and John Beverly. John gives a wave saying 'hello' while Chubby gives everyone a hug and a compliment, then says, "Will somebody please tell me what the fuck this freshman's real name is. He's claiming its Golden Summers and he even has a fake Indiana driver's license with that name on it. I asked him why he didn't have his date of birth changed since he went to all the trouble of getting a fake license under that name." This is hysterically funny to Golden. He's laughing his ass off reminding me of him laughing earlier at the unfunny 'Buzz cut' chant. Actually, I like a guy who laughs easily and he sure has a good sounding sincere laugh. I find out that Chubby saw Golden in the parking lot near Robby's pickup and somehow bonded with him on the way upstairs to the apartment. I mean he even got Golden to show him his driver's license. I would have liked to witness Chubby going, "Hey, you! What are you doing in that pickup?" All with a big smile on his face, and Golden being kind of nervous, and then Chubby hugging his shoulders saying something outrageous, and who knows what else. Chubby easily makes total strangers feel like they've known him for years.
Everyone's out on the balcony with a beer by now, except Robby, who's says
he's sticking with soda tonight. I fill Chubby in on my plans for dinner and he gets the grille going while telling Golden, "Go with Dylan and bring me the steaks." Golden says, "Okay, Jeff," and follows me inside still chuckling. Maybe things aren't all that funny in Indiana, or else Golden's easily amused. I point at the steaks on the kitchen bar and he takes them out to Chubby as I begin doing batches of French fries, salting them when they come out of the hot oil, then keeping them hot in the oven. Done one batch, I do it all over again with another batch. Ryan keeps me company while Robby and Danny huddle together on the balcony. As co-captains they're probably talking about Merrimack's baseball team that will begin three weeks of fall practice Monday. Golden's watching Chubby grille the steaks with both of them animatedly pointing at the grille and them laughing and in general getting along very well. I'm not sure Chubby even knows why Golden's here.
Meanwhile, Danny and Robby wander over to the corner where I can't see them.
Huh. They wouldn't do anything sexy with Chubby and Golden right there...
would they?
Ryan asks, "What do you think about Rob mentoring this kid, Golden?" I say, "Well, first of all he was assigned to mentor Golden by the coach; it wasn't Rob's idea, and I guess I don't mind." He nods, then mumbles, "Oh, did I tell you my roommate's not arriving until tomorrow afternoon." I go, "Yeah, you told me on the phone earlier." Ryan walks behind the kitchen bar to where I'm standing by the stove. He gets in my space grinning at me so I grin back, asking, "What?" and he shrugs, "Oh nothing. It's nice being with you again. Last night sucked because it was killing me that you were right there, but Rob kept me away from you." This has a little different feel to it from earlier today when Ryan and I were together. I mumble, "I didn't realize Rob was keeping you away from me. Are you sure?" He shrugs, "That's what it seemed like to me. I know you thought we were rude excluding you from much of our conversation, but it was really Rob keeping me talking so I couldn't talk to you." I go, "Oh come on, Ryan, the more I think about it, that doesn't seem to be something he would do." But, huh, Ryan might be right
although I never gave that a thought until he brought it up just now.
He watches me doing the French fires, then rubs my back, snickering, and playfully asking, "You ready for me to give you my specialty haircut yet?"
I snort out a laugh, "You asshole, I just got a haircut a half hour ago."
He goes, "I know, and it's a nice one too. Um, do you think we're gonna get together as buddies any time soon?" I go, "I mentioned that to you earlier today and I was rebuffed by you." He goes, "That wasn't rebuffing. I don't do rebuff, and as a matter of fact I think this is the first time in my life I've ever said that word." I grin, feeling good Ryan's finally asking me for sex instead of me nagging him for it like I pretty much did through the first half of the summer.
Golden sticks his head in from the balcony, saying, "Dylan, Jeff says the steaks are ready. He wants me to get a platter." I hand Ryan a platter motioning that he should pass it to Golden, telling Golden, "Yeah, thanks.
Ryan's got the platter." Golden takes the platter as I ask Ryan, "Would you get the salad out of the fridge?" While he does that I drop the frozen onion rings in the hot oil and slam the lid on the pot because water from the frozen rings causes the oil to significantly flair up. Golden carries the platter of steaks in with Chubby following, and telling him, "Put it on the bar, dude." Then Chub goes, "Um, Golden, or whatever your real name is, would you get a carving knife from Dylan?" Jeezus, Chubby's already got Golden running errands for him. I pass Golden the knife and Chubby slices the steaks, which requires a certain technique considering the bone in the steaks is shaped like the letter 'T', thus the name of that cut of meat. You need to deal with that first by removing it. What you get then is two steaks; the smaller one is a filet mignon, and the other is a New York strip steak.
Robby whispers to me, "Will you do me a favor and make friends with Gol den? He'll be around quite a bit and I don't want him to feel awkward." I nod at him and when Golden is done giggling at whatever Chubby said to him, I ask him, "Would you me a favor, Golden, and make sure the grille's turned off?" Then tell the rest of the guys to grab a plate and serve themselves.
When Golden gets back the other guys are already at the kitchen table that's only big enough for four. I'm like, "It looks like you're stuck eating with the chef at the kitchen bar, Golden." He looks forlornly at his idol, Chubby, for a second, then goes, "No problem," and we fill our plates. Still a little concerned there won't be enough steak I only take one slice even though there's half of the second T-bone steak still on the platter. It won't be there for long of course, but it looks like it'll be enough after all.
With our plates full, Golden and I sit at the bar hearing laughter from the four guys at the table. Golden grins, saying, "I think I'm sitting on the barbering stool," and he laughs his laugh. I keep switching from liking him one minute, then not liking him the next. For instance, he swept the balcony after the haircuts, so I thank him for doing that, and he goes, "My mentor told me too. He's a really good guy, your, um, roommate." Avoiding a 'roommate/boyfriend' discussion, I ask, "Isn't it fun giving haircuts?" He looks startled, "Fun? No I don't think it's fun at all, and frankly I was looking forward to getting away from it somewhat here at college, and then my first full day here I need to do two haircuts, and I promised my roommate I'd give him one too when he gets here." I'm like, "You want too get away from giving haircuts, yet you asked your mom to UPS your barber tools. Why'd you do that if you want to avoid doing haircutting?" He shrugs, "Yes, it seems contradictory, but I only thought it'd be only, Jake, my roommate, I be giving a haircut. We exchanged emails during the summer listing our talents, and I mentioned cutting my brothers' hair. So that'll be my contribution to the dorm room, giving Jake free haircuts, and his is he'll have a car on campus. I thought I was getting the best of that deal." I go, "Oh."
We eat silently for a minute or so, then he says, "Rob mentioned you're a accomplished barber too, so how many haircuts have you done?" I shrug, "Not
nearly as many as you. Just my brother and a few friends... on and off."
He goes, "You're lucky you don't have five brothers." To be sure I understand what he means; I ask him, "So, you don't like giving haircuts at all?"
He chuckles, "You guys are always joking around. Okay, I know you're jerking my chain with that question, Dylan, but why on earth would I like cutting guy's stinky hair? I did it at home to help my parents." I'm like, "How'd that help your parents?" He shrugs, "We're a lower middle class income family, at best. Mom and Dad work hard, but money's scarce and they're raising six boys who eat a lot, so I do the boys' haircuts for one reason only: to save my parents like a hundred bucks a month." Damn. Lower middle class income, huh? I'm not sure exactly what that means, but it doesn't sound too good. Frankly I don't know how to follow that up, so I change the subject again, asking, "What made you choose Merrimack?" He snorts out another laugh, "It's the only college in the nation that offered me a scholarship. It was an easy choice; a free education or a shit load of college loans." Boy, he must really be a good baseball player to get a scholarship. Rob didn't get one and I think he's an excellent shortstop, and obviously so do the coaches and the other players. I mean, they voted him co-captain.
Glancing at the side of Golden's face I notice his long curly hair makes his profile kinda cute, but full face he's not really what I'd call cute.
Well he is above average in that department; it's his chin that fucks-up an otherwise cute face. He's cute from his mouth up. I probably won't suggest this, but if he let his beard grow a little it might cover up the ass-crack in his chin. There's another problem too: his arms on the kitchen bar are hairy. Curly light brown hairs all over his forearms. Funny how I think hairy legs are sexy, but hairy arms are more like gross than sexy. He says, "I've got a fact for you about haircutting; something you probably never gave a thought to." I go, "What's that?" and he says, "Well, first of all my great grandfather, may he rest in peace, was a barber until he died a couple years back. He had a barbershop in Seattle and worked it right up until the day of his heart attack. Anyway, he was in the barber's union there in Seattle and, since he knew I was doing the barbering for my brothers, he talked barbering with me the rare times he visited us. He told me the president of his union had this concern about barbers joining the union; guys who got 'off' from cutting hair short." I go, "Got off, um, whaddaya mean?" He says, "Believe it or not there are guys, mostly gay guys, no offense intended, who get sexually aroused by cutting guys' hair really short, or getting their own hair cut wicked short. Is that sick or what?"
I'm chewing some steak glancing at Ryan to see if he heard that, but he isn't paying any attention to Golden and me. Golden says, "Were you aware of that, Dylan?" I swallow, muttering, "Haircut fetish, you mean?" He goes, "Yeah, exactly. That's what it's called." I go, "I can honestly say that's a baffling subject to me; one I can't say I understand. Did your great grandfather have an explanation, um, for that fetish?" He half turns on the stool to face me, "Yeah. He said psychologists determined that at some point in the lives of these individuals their unconscious minds made an intrinsic connection between their masculinity and the length of their hair. The shorter their hair the more masculine they felt. The underlying factor, at the heart of the fetish, is a fear of emasculation." I go, "Wow, you sure know a lot about this shit, don'cha?" He shrugs, "No, not really. That's the full extent of my knowledge on the subject, and it came from my great grandfather who may or may not be full of shit for all I know," and he laughs again.
When he turns back facing the bar to finish his fries, I ask, "Do you know
anything about a leather fetish, or guys who get sexually aroused by feet?" He does his easy laugh and pats my shoulder, "Nope, can't help you with that, but did you know some people can have an orgasm from being put in a tiny space?" I go, "No, I didn't," and he says, "Yeah, it's called claustrophobia. There are sacks a person gets squeezed into and then air is sucked out tightening the material around the person." I go, "Jesus! I have claustrophobia and even hearing that makes me short of breath." He shrugs, "I'm just saying," and I'm like, "Um, how many people in Crown Point, Indiana, besides yourself that is, get orgasms from being put in a tiny space?" Another good laugh from Golden, who finally mutters, "Just me." I'm not at all sure he's kidding about that.
When everyone's finished with their dinner I cut the pie into six pieces.
Golden and I have our backs against the bar now. We're facing the guys at the table holding our pie plates and eating while listening to Robby bitching about unsolicited emails. Golden pipes up with, "I never respond to anonymous mail." Robby asks, "Well how the fuck could you, even if you wanted to? And how could an email be anonymous." Golden mumbles, "Oh, yeah, that's right," and he laughs." I chuckle too, assuming he was making a joke with his 'anonymous' comment. Then we're talking about mall shopping and Golden has something to say about that too. He tells us, "Nobody goes to the Crown Point Mall anymore because it's too crowded." I look at Robby, who shrugs, then he asks Golden, "When you come to a fork in the road, do you take it?"
Golden grins, saying, "I'd check with Yogi Berra first. Oh no, wait, he died." He was putting us on with some of Yogi's nutty words of wisdom. Chubby says, "Don't you mean Yogi Bear?" and the conversation further deteriorates from there.
Later we're all out on the balcony again and everyone has a fresh beer, even Robby this time. A few of us are smoking while Chubby and Golden talk to three girls who made the mistake of walking below our balcony in the parking lot. I'm not paying attention to their banter back and forth, but hear the girl's laughing. Robby and Danny are standing in a corner near the gas grille talking quietly and looking serious. Ryan's with me leaning on the railing opposite the grille. He's in my personal space again as he pulls on my ear, saying, "Remember our freshman year together, Dylan? It's like at times I can hardly believe that ever happened. You were ridiculously naive, don't you think?" I push his hand away from my ear, but hold onto it for a second or two. Our eyes meet as I murmur, "Yeah, as far as sub/dom sex goes I was definitely more naive than you. You were the expert." He goes, "Yeah,
pretty much an expert, but you know I learned all about it the hard way... from being a victim of masochists." I'm uncomfortable talking about that aspect of my freshman year because I feel like the world's biggest fool for how submissive to Ryan I became back then. Much more so than in Marietta.
And it's scary how much I enjoyed the sexual rush I got from it too. I tell Ryan, "Yeah, but I'm a different person now. Not much of that childish shit appeals to me anymore. I finally know better." He has a little smile on his lips as he shrugs like he's not so sure about that. I put my finger on his lips, saying, "Wipe that smug know-it-all smile off your face. I am different now, and even if you could be that dominant again I know you wouldn't do anything I didn't want you to do." He captures my finger in his fist, mumbling, "Well, that last part is true anyway."
Taking a drag off my cigarette, then exhaling it in Ryan's face, we both grin as he says, "It was the most awesome feeling freshman year the way you'd stare at me with that hungry look in those puppy dog eyes of yours; a pleading look wanting me to dominate your ass again." Then he whispers close to my ear, "Pleading to be dominantly fucked hard. I'd give in to your pleading but only after a hard spanking and you'd sit on my lap bawling like a little kid." I nod my head, "Yeah, ha! I'm not so sure about the pleading part though. I kinda remember blowing my nose in a used handkerchief that you'd hold to my nose. What a prick you were back then." He chuckles, "That was age regression right there. You acted like a little boy, and you loved it!" I give him a dirty look, "Okay, so you had me so wrapped around your finger so much I could hardly catch my breath. How'd you do that anyway, and why did you?" He runs his fingers through my hair and I go, "Don't, not here, Ryan" and glance over at Robby to see if he's looking our way. He's not, but I notice Danny's in Robby's space the way Ryan's in mine. Looking back at Ryan I get a funny feeling in my balls. I snort out a nervous laugh and he goes, "What?" Shaking my head, I mumble, "Oh, nothing." He grips the back of my neck, asking, "What was it?" Taking a deep breath, I move my head closer to his, quietly saying, "It's nothing you don't already know. I just, um, think you're sexy. That's all."
He's nodding his head, then says, "Well hell, that's no small thing to me,
Dylan." Chewing on my bottom lip I'm just now realizing how much Ryan got into my head while I stayed at his place in Georgia. He was so damn nice to me while being in charge, plus his sub/dom sex was addictive. Damn, I thought I'd be over that by now! I try not looking at him because I'm feeling aroused thinking about our freshman year together. Ryan takes my cigarette butt from my fingers, mumbling, "You're going to burn your fingers." I look down and see the cigarette burned almost to the filter. He flicks it away, and asks, "What were you thinking just now that made you look so serious?"
I shake my head, "Um, I don't remember," and then look at him grinning goofily. He laughs a little, saying, "You're acting strange, even for you." I go, "Hey! I'm not strange, don't be a prick." Then I'm quiet again glancing across the balcony where I see Robby with his arm across Danny's shoulders as they both look at a pamphlet Danny's holding. Ryan see's where I'm looking, and says, "They're looking at the 2016 spring baseball schedule for Merrimack's baseball team. I recognize it because it looks the same as last year's schedule." I go, "Oh," and he asks, "Are Rob and Danny, um, buddies again?" I go, "I don't know for sure. Robby was wicked pissed-off at Danny for quitting his crew like the second week of the summer, but I guess they've pretty much patched things up since then."
Ryan faces me and pats my chest, "Here's what I want you to do right now, Dylan. Go over and tell Rob you want to use my Mini tomorrow, so you're going with me back to my dorm, then you'll drive the Mini back here." I'm like, "Huh? Oh, you mean so we can have our reunion sex in your dorm room.
Jeez, I'd really like to Ryan, seriously. I have missed you, but not tonight."
He looks me in the eyes and quietly says, "Go ahead and do what I said."
Taking a deep breath, I'm like, "Fuck no! He'll know what the deal is. It's not fair to flaunt it in his face, and I won't do it." Ryan's angry now, saying, "Have it your way, Dylan, but those two are almost in each other's pants right now." I give him a hug and say in his ear, "I told you I missed you, but we need to wait until sometime when we'd be less conspicuous?" He struggles out of the hug, whispering, "Didn't I ask you to please not be a cock teaser? You come on to me telling me how sexy I am and lean all over me, then say 'no' you don't want to do anything to disrespect Rob. Did you ever worry about that in Georgia when you showed those same pleading eyes you had as a freshman?" I say, too loudly, "I did not!" Everyone heard me shout, 'I did not,' and they look over at us as I quietly hiss, "I didn't have pleading eyes in Georgia. It was mutual between us." My face is red, as Ryan says, "Just another definitive Dylan-statement, meaning nothing."
Chubby heard that and he points at Ryan, "What the fuck did you mean by that, Ryan?" I go, "It's nothing, Chub, really!" He gives Ryan a cold stare and it's a little tense as Chubby says, "Be careful what you say about Dylan. I can get a little upset when I hear someone disparaging him... just saying." Golden goes, "Um, Jeff, how 'bout we go downstairs and call the girls' bluff." Chubby stares at Ryan, waiting to see if he has anything to say.
Ryan's frowning looking away, so Chubby tells Golden, "In a minute, Golden."
Robby and Danny are looking over at us too, so I go, "We're fine, Rob," and Ryan says to me, "I'm taking off. God forbid anyone says anything negative about you with your crazy brother around. Thanks for the dinner," and he walks in through the sliding doors. What the fuck? I wait two seconds then follow him into the kitchen, saying, "Don't be an asshole, Ryan. Stop! My brother is not crazy." He turns around, red in the face, saying, "I have feelings too, you know. Do me a favor, don't lead me on anymore. That's all I ask." I take hold of his arm, saying, "I was just telling you how I honestly felt. You're sexy and, um, I think you're attractive." He snorts, "And you don't think that's leading me on? How about touching me all the time and staring me in the eyes?" I go, "Okay, you're right. I guess I was subconsciously leading you on." He goes, "Ya can't blame everything on the subconscious, Dylan," then he wraps his arms around me and does one of his hot patented kisses for like five, seemingly long seconds. Yep, that raises a hard boner in my pants as I cling to him. He says, "See you tomorrow," and turns to go out the door. I follow him and catch him on the steps, "Wait, Ryan.
Um, you're not mad at me, are you?" and my fingers go in his longish hair. He steps up to the step I'm on and we kiss again, but quickly this time, then says, "See ya."
I watch him go out the door realizing again what an indelible impression he made on me last summer. It was easy to submerge desire when he was out of sight and mostly out of mind, but now he's here and it's no longer so easy. Back in the apartment I go right to the bathroom to take a piss watching my penis go from hard to limp, then I wash my face and hands. Looking at my
reflection in the mirror over the sink, I give a brief thought at how much
better my hair looks, then I'm back to wondering... what the fuck am I going to do about Ryan?
To be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@outlook.com
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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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