Dylans Junior Year at College

DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter 43

By Donny Mumford

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he adds, "Yeah, after all this time together I know how much you love being, un, the bottom boy, and I love doing it with you. There's no one in this world I'd rather have sex with than you, but you already knew that." I

ask, "And you're finally confident I feel the same way about you?" He nods and grins, saying, "Yep, I don't need to wonder about that anymore. It was

like bang and like overnight you started giving me chills the way you looked up to me and the way you try to please me and openly showed your love."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nerve endings buzz all around my groin as I say in a serious manner, "Rob, I have this indescribable love for you. I can't articulate effectively how strong my feeling are in that regard and I'm wondering, um... well, it's a little unnerving to tell you the truth." With his mouth full of toothpaste, he asks, "Unnerving? Why's that?" I shrug, "I don't know. It's like I'm at a distinct disadvantage because I might do any fucking thing you wanted me to do in my effort to try pleasing you and to get you paying attention to

me." He's shakes his head slowly laughing and splattering specks of toothpaste on the mirror, then he goes, "The priceless things you say! I never know what's coming out of your mouth next."

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

All my muscles are taut as I struggle and then, just like that, I feel a fantastic veil of submissiveness come draping down over me and I get docile for Robby. This doesn't happen all that often with him so I revel in the sensation of submissiveness during this sex act. He stops building the hickey to murmur, "Nice. I like it when you get like this for me." No more struggling as I allow Rob to do as he wishes, my arms hanging at my sides. He does one last hard hump of his hips and he's tightly against my buttocks grinding his hips a little. Then another hard hump to maybe emphasize he's in-charge and then he goes back to sucking on the hickey as precum drips from my

boned-up cock. My head is lazily over to the side so Rob can easily work on the hickey he intends for me to show-off the next few days. He's just recently revisited giving me hickeys and I like it. A hickey on your neck is evidence there's someone who thinks you're hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leans on my back hugging my stomach with both arms, murmuring, "I know how you like it, baby, but I'm going to enjoy it slow and easy a little while longer." I gasp, "Ummm, ooh, mmmm, Rob." His forehead is against the back of my head as I'm humping my ass back into his methodical thrusting. Slow steady smooth and tight thrusts for another couple of minutes. He's pushing his boner slowly up my ass until his hips hit my quivering butt cheeks and

then after a second or two he steadily withdrawal that fat hard cock of his at the same speed. The big head with the wide rim at the bottom tantalizes every nerve ending in my ass. It keeps my shoulders constantly shuddering. I know his thrusting has to be faster than I think it is, but to me it seems to take a minute for that four-inch fat boner to pull all the way back and distend the lips of my asshole, then he hesitates for a second or two before a lazy trip back up my ass and it feels so awesome except I want to climax so badly I could scream. My forehead drops down on my hands as I savor the sexy sensation in my rectum until finally this slow thrusting ignites my orgasm and everything doubles-up. Twice the sensations as an orgasm begins building as I'm making quiet whining sounds, "Mmm, ooooh, mmm, aaah, aaah." Robby stretches his neck to lick my stinging hickey again, continuing his methodical, thrust... thrust... thrust until I need to cum so badly my body's jerking around and I'm grunting, "Un, un, un, oooh, Rob, Robby."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We're still a little drunk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When I wake-up this time it's because of all the talking coming from the living room. Looking at my watch I see it's ten-after-eleven. Picking up the pillow I try to detect Rob's scent but can't. Let's see, we got to sleep around one-thirty last night and got up at six. I was back in bed before seven-thirty so that all adds-up to over nine-hours sleep. Plus, it's not like

we got blasted last night. I should feel better than I do. There's no major headache but I'm tired and feeling out-of-sorts, whatever that means. I get up and do some stuff in the bathroom and then get dressed in the sweatshirt and pants I had on earlier.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kitchen. Mrs. Dickers is putting green beans in a pot of water on the stove. Mr. Dickers is making cocktails. They both say, "Hi, boys," then Mrs.

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

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

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

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

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

I'd like that."

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

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

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

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

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

That's according to a video I watched like a year ago. I don't think I've ever used those thinning scissors. During the demonstration the cut hairs will come off in a scrambled bunch instead of a clean cut. It looks as though twice as much hair was cut than actually got cut. Like I said I can't recall

I've ever used them but I did watch that tutorial video." Rob goes, "Your hair is very thick all over so I'm using these things a lot." We're standing here as he combs through my hair needing to put a little effort getting it through my long wavy hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

if it's totally fucked-up, but of course then it'll be too late to do anything about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My cock has loosening up entirely now that we're talking and he's stopped cutting. I look at the back of my head through the reflection off the handheld mirror to the bureau mirror. The little tapering at the shaved neck line is still in place and looking pretty fucking good." I say, "Jeez, Rob, really good job of tapering the hairline! Nice!" He nods, "Thanks. I thought so too. Us working together like this is a really good thing and I feel good about it." Yeah, whatever. Okay, the rest of the hair from the tapering is basically buzz-cut or burr-cut length. I lower the mirror and go, "Wow, I'm impressed. It's way too fuckin' short but done well." He nods again, "Yeah, I agree and I know it's too short so you don't need to rub it in. Next

time I do your haircut it won't be too short in back." Ooooh, he's sticking up for himself now. Nice! I go, "Well it doesn't need to be a Golden assembly-line-haircut. You're right about using the quarter-inch guide on the clippers for the sides. The thing is though you don't want to take the clippers all the way up the sides like Golden does. Stop an inch or so before the top and do the taping like you did so well in the back." Encouraging comments at this point seem like the way to go. Rob nods and says, "I understand, no problem." I add, "And

we'll leave more of the hair on top for now. Don't ya think?" He makes a face, "What? That's the whole point of what I've been telling you. It's too long on top. I've been telling you that all along." I say, "Yeah, I agree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looking at myself in the mirror, I wait a few seconds, then say, "But what, Rob?" Rob goes, "I guess I'm a perfectionist, but the bangs bunch at the side when I comb the hairs over, see?" I shrug, "It's okay." He shakes his head, "No, it's not okay," and he grins, saying, "Hey, babe, you know I'm a

pain-in-the-ass perfectionist about everything I do. If I cut the bangs on an angle though," and without finishing his explanation, he uses regular scissors again to cut my bangs even shorter and on an angle so that near the right side of my forehead the bangs are only a half inch long. Combing the hairs over he says, "There, see? That better because they just naturally lie together now." Jeez, Rob's really feeling cocky now. And he has shown some insight during this haircut. I think he has some aptitude for haircutting. During freshman year I told him what to do while now he's seems to be vitalizing things on his own. Next time he'll know how to do a little longer version of this haircut and in time I'm optimistic Rob will be a good barber for me. It'd be a relief to finally nail down who's my barber and how my

haircuts will look going forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Overall though, how do you like it, Dylan. This is, by the way, very much a businessman's haircut like I said I'd do for you. Sure, we both agree it is shorter than it should be and shorter than I envisioned too, but this is my first time cutting your hair in over two years. Plus, I've never used thinning

scissors before. Seriously though, I'm kinda pleased with the way it turned out." Through his constant chattering all I can think about is him fucking me hard as soon as he's done fucking my hair up. I need sex with him to relieve the built-up sexual heat from this too-short haircut. Rob combs the bangs a few times, playing with my hair basically, then says, "I like it, babe, it looks good on you. This is basically, without those random too-short hairs, the sort of haircut that I'll do for you whenever you want a haircut." I'm completely mesmerized by him and getting more and more sexually aroused by the minute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gasping, Robby mutters, "That was a fast but brilliant climax. Oooh fuuuuck that felt good. Holy shit!" I'm quivering all over, my body alive with little electric shocks as my shoulders continue to spastically shudder. It drifts across my mind that this was much better and hotter than any of Ryan's

haircut-fucks. This was much better and I turn around to meld into Robby's

body hugging him like my life depended on it. He rubs my back chuckling, and quietly saying, "And I thought you'd be pissed off at me for giving you this businessman's haircut." My face is tightly against the side of his as I mumble, "Please don't call it that, Robby. Call it Rob's specialty haircut for Dylan." He hugs me murmuring, "Okay, baby, I'll call it whatever you want. Are you alright?" I'm still shaking a little from adrenaline maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com

donnymumford@outlook.com

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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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