Date: Mon, 31 Aug 2015 10:20:36 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION Chapter 11

DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION




Chapter 11




by  Donny Mumford


Feeling as sexually satisfied as I've felt in awhile, I go  upstairs with
my latest gung-ho marine haircut to take a shower before dinner.  In the
shower I try rethinking everything Ryan and I did and/or talked about  since
leaving work today. I come up with the same conclusion we came up with
together... maintaining status quo in our relationship for the summer is our  best
course of action. There are plusses and minuses for me personally, but the
plusses far outnumber the minuses. Anyway, it's what we mutually proposed,
and I  agreed to, weeks before we left Merrimack. That being said, I am
self-conscious  about this haircut Ryan continues insisting I have. So, big deal,
I'll wear a  hat. The two positives of that are: one, my dominant sex
partner/barber gets his  way, and I get to experience the height of my haircut
fetish once a week. The  one big negative is I'm very self-consciousness about
this embarrassingly short  haircut, but if it's hidden  under a hat... no
harm, no foul. Oh yeah, while Ryan's doing the haircut it's  sexually erotic to
me and gets my fetish burning brightly. It's like a drug that  I'll
probably have withdrawal symptoms from back home getting normal haircuts  from
Robby. The sub/dom sex Ryan initiates is hot, but Robby can totally satisfy  me
sexually, and I'm already looking forward to him doing that. We don't do
sub/dom sex of course, but the need for that seems to be fading slowly in me
anyway. Plus, it'll be something like six weeks before Ryan and I pick-up
on our occasional side sex during our junior year at Merrimack. I'll have a
week's vacation in Wildwood, then work for Robby during August and maybe the
 first part of September. Whatever, having a little sub/dom sex with  Ryan
will seem newer and fresher after a six or seven week separation. Who
knows, by then I might not even have an urge for it.


Not taking any  chances with the Wilcox's dress code, even if dinner
tonight is just Chinese  take-out, I wear the button down shirt and khakis with
loafers uniform. You  know, to be on the safe side. Stopping at Ryan's bedroom
before going down to  the first floor, I see him buttoning his shirt. He
smiles at me, "Daniel, you're  looking good, as always," I say, "You too,
boss. Um, for some reason I'm feeling  acutely self conscious about this haircut
even though I didn't feel that way at  college. Maybe being in new
surroundings I'd like to look as normal as possible.  Anyway, if you don't mind I'm
thinking about wearing a hat out in public. Can I  borrow one of yours until
I buy my own?" Tucking in his shirt, he says, "No,  because you're not
wearing a hat." He comes over, grinning, "I want everyone to  see the haircut
I've chosen for my 'boy'." Damn, that's cooly dominant of him.  My little
dictator isn't afraid to stick to his guns and I gotta admire that,  but still,
"Um, seriously, Albert, you're saying I can't even wear a hat?" He  squeezes
the back of my neck, saying, "Yep, no hat! I like seeing the haircut I
just gave you. It gives me confidence, and you look good with it too. You
really  do!" I'm frowning, muttering, "I'm, ah..." He says, "Stop it! No hat.
You'll  see... in a while you'll be completely used to it. It's only been a month
or so  that I've been giving you the gung-ho marine look, so you're not
used to it yet.  You need to just accept it and I'll bet you get to liking it."
He grins  confidently, and rubs my head.


Can I believe this  shit? He won't even let me wear his baseball cap. I go,
"Um, I don't mean  wear a hat at dinner, Albert. Just at work and when I'm,
ya know, outside." He's  stepping into his loafers, mumbling, "What part of
'no' don't you understand?" I  whine, "This time you really cut it short
and I can't help it, I feel  self-conscious. I feel scalped. People are always
making snide remarks about  this haircut, and it's sort of getting to me."
He shrugs, "Yeah? Well fuck 'em.  In fact I want you to tell anyone
commenting on your haircut that your boyfriend  cuts your hair anyway he wants." I'm
staring at him with my mouth open,  dumbfounded. He goes, "Come on, we
gotta get downstairs, it's almost seven."  Huh! What balls on this guy. Is he
serious?

As we're going  downstairs, I ask, "Wait a second, stop," and he stops
halfway down the  stairs and looks at me, still grinning. I'm like, "You won't
let me wear a hat,  and now you're saying you want me to come right out and
tell the guys at  work or at church you're my boyfriend? Won't your mother be
pissed?" He says,  "Daniel, we're both out of the closet. You can tell
anyone you want that we're  gay boyfriends. You are my boyfriend, right?" I nod,
"Yes, here, in a way. Oh  hell, yeah, we're boyfriends, but they'll still
make fun of my haircut." He  snorts, "Look, it's the haircut I'll be giving
you all summer. I already told  you to get used to it, so stop whining." His
mother's coming from the dining  room, asking, "Who's whining?" Ryan gives
me a look, and we continue going down  the stairs with Ryan saying, "Well,
Daniel, who's whining's?" I tell his  mother, "Oh, ha... I guess I was whining,
Mrs. Wilcox," as I'm blushing to a  degree I haven't blushed in some time. I
goofily point at my head, like I need  to for her to notice, and mumble, "I
was whining about the haircut Albert gave  me." She glances at my head,
"Oh, for heaven sakes, Albert, that's ridiculously  short." He says, "Daniel
likes it, don't you?" and he looks at me, with  his smug smile. I stare at him
a second feeling my dick tighten us,  then look at his mother and stammer,
"Oh, huh, um. Yeah, well I guess I did tell  Albert I liked the haircut five
minutes ago, so yeah, I like it this way,  ma'am." His mother, looking
confused and continuing on her way to the kitchen,  says, "Then don't whine
about it, dear."


I watch her go, as  she says over her shoulder, "Albert, you better get
your boyfriend to give you a  haircut too, and before your father gets back
from his business trip Wednesday  night." He calls after her, "Yes. ma'am." I'm
sweating, staring at Ryan feeling  totally put in my place by him so I've
got a submissive buzzing around my groin  that feels good. Ryan shakes his
head like he can't believe the fuss I'm causing  about the haircut, then he
takes hold of my arm, saying, "In the dining room,  Daniel, lets go. Jesus!"
Walking down the hall, he's like, "Okay, mother's  right. After diner you'll
get the barber tools out again and set up everything  like you did a couple
hours ago. I might as well get my haircut tonight." I nod  my head, and he
goes, "I don't know why the fuck you're being such a pain in the  ass about
your haircut? It's like the fifth or six time you've gotten this same  one."
I mumble, "Actually I don't know why either, I'm sorry." He squeezes my
shoulder, "No problem, but get over it, okay?" I nod again and he acts
cheerful,  "As for me, you're my all-time favorite hair stylist/barber." I say,
"Well,  I like you cutting my hair, I mean while you're doing it. It's
afterwards that I  get to feeling self conscious, but, um, you're right. I'll get
used to." He  smirks rubbing my head, mumbling, "You might as well," and I lean
into him  continuing to feel submissive to him as my dick tightens-up a
little more. Damn,  that feels good.


In the dining  room, I'm wondering if he's right about me eventually liking
the hung-ho marine  look. Hell, I had this same haircut for almost a month
at college and it wasn't  a big problem there, so what do I care what a
bunch of hicks think here. Plus, I  gotta admit Ryan is a dominant hot little
shit, and he does it seemingly  naturally. I know though that most of it's him
role playing supposedly for my  benefit. He's still under the illusion he's
somehow helping me with all this  dominant stuff. It's mostly sexy fun for
me, but I think of it as more of a  game where as he's more serious about it
being helpful to me. His heart's  in the right place and who knows, maybe
it is helpful. My man, Ryan! Ha ha, but  I respect him too, I mean how could
I not? He looks over at me, "You okay with  everything, Daniel?" I nod my
head, "Yeah, actually I am. You da man, Albert."  He smiles and I glance at
the dinning room table. Food is on the table already,  but it's not in those
little white cartons that Chinese take-out comes in. Mrs.  W. has it in nice s
erving dishes and it's been reheated with steam rising off  the hot dishes.
Ryan stands where his father normally stands at the head of the  table
waiting for his mother, and I stand at my place. This formality seems so
unnecessary to me, and I feel a tad foolish. Then I'm thinking about telling the
boys we run into at church or work that my boyfriend here, nodding at Ryan,
gives me my haircuts. That's gonna get back to his parents and I wonder
about  the fallout from that. Maybe Ryan needs to rethink things a little  bit.

A minute later his mother comes in the dinning room carrying a whole duck
on a platter, saying something that sounded like, "Peking Duck," whatever
that  is. She puts the duck platter on a serving table next to the temporary
head of  the household for him to carve, and we sit down together. Ryan says,
"Daniel,  please say the grace tonight?" The three of us hold hands and I
say as much as I  can remember from Ryan's grace. It passes okay as no one
has any negative  comments, just, "Very nice," from his mother and a agreeable
head nod from Ryan.  As Ryan carves the duck, his mother and I pass our
plates, and then the  side dishes get passed around while his mother asks, "How
are you boys doing?  Tell me all about your first day on the job, Albert."
He does most of the  talking only asking me, "Wasn't old Aaron annoying with
all his bogus  questions?" and me confirming that he was annoying.  Then,
as we're eating,  Mrs. W. tells us about her day and about the troubles Mr.
Wilcox had flying  today with an unscheduled landing. Something to do with
landing gear concerns.  The flight to New York City took seven hours by the
time he arrived at La  Guardia International, and blah, blah, blah. I try
paying attention because  once in awhile one of them would ask me something,
like his mother asking, 'Have  you ever flown into La Guardia, Daniel?' or Ryan
asking, "What was the computer  code we had trouble with in this afternoon.
The one that wouldn't load?' Stuff  like that. His mother goes, "Oh, before
I forget, you boys have a golf  lesson every Tuesday and Thursday at
five-fifteen. Forty-five minutes per  lesson, but get there early tomorrow,
Albert, so the pro can fit you with new  clubs. And, you need to get your old
clubs from the basement for Daniel." We  talk about that for awhile with Mrs. W.
saying it's up to the pro to decide when  we can play a round of golf for
real.


The food from the  Chinese restaurant in Marietta tastes exactly like the
one we frequent in  Framingham. I wonder if food from all American Chinese
restaurants tastes the  same? After Ryan and I clear the  dinner dishes, we
have the rest of last night's cherry pie. Ryan goes, "Mother,  you haven't
made it a secret I'm gay, have you?" She acts prissy, "Well, I  haven't
advertised it, if that's what you mean. Your father and I were having  dinner at
the club with the Beckets and we did discuss it with them. I was  surprised to
discover their daughter's gay. Apparently your father and I were  the last
ones at the club to know that. Betty Becket told us  her sister's gay and
then the Millers joined us for after dinner drinks and we  find out a few
other of the club's members have a gay child." Ryan asks,  "What'd they say
about the gay children? Are they  embarrassed about it, or ashamed?" She gets
huffy, "No, no one's ashamed of  their children? I'm not ashamed you're gay,
Albert, that's absurd. It's  more a matter of wondering if it isn't just a
faze you two are having fun with.  College is where that sort of thing might
seem fashionable.  Daniel here tells me you were gay before he met you, so if
that's true I  can't blame it on a college frolic, now can I?" Albert's
cool as a cucumber,  quietly saying, "I told you and father all that while I
was home last time.  Remember?" She goes, Yes, I do, but I worry about you
boys.  You're so young for such a big decision." She pats my hand, "But this
delightful  and handsome boy matches so well with you Albert. Silly of me, but
I was showing  the picture of Daniel and you together and everyone's jaw
dropped at how attractive your boyfriend is." Ryan smells the back of his
wrists, probably thinking the same thing I am. It's like his mother was asking
her friends if they can believe Albert has a boyfriend like me? Or maybe
there's  a little bragging involved as well. That sounds conceited of me, but
it's what  Ryan told me her reaction was when he first showed her my
picture.

No matter though,  I'm just glad for Ryan's sake she's seemingly becoming
more accepting that we're  gay boyfriends, so she apparently won't care if I
tell people my boyfriend gave  me this haircut. The fact that hung-ho
marines have this same haircut is the  only tiny redeeming feature about it. Well,
the marine connection, and the way  my fetish blazes when Ryan giving me
the haircut. I admire America's military.  Of course relatively few marines
actually have this haircut, only the most  gung-ho. Most marines are like me
in one regard, they recognize a ridiculous  haircut when they see one. I used
to as well, but now I'm supposed to convinced  myself I like it because
that's life with Ryan-Albert. His mother goes on a  little bit more, laughing a
little about showing her son's boyfriend's picture  around to her friends.
I can imagine them finally talking behind their hands,  'Oh fuck, here comes
Cynthia Wilcox showing her son's boyfriend's picture  again!' Ha ha, but I
suppose it is flattering. Ryan seems to be enjoying his  mother's
description of her friend's reaction to Ryan's and my picture together.  I don't even
know which picture Ryan gave his mother. Ryan and his mother laugh  about it
while I smile, feeling uncomfortable, which is a condition Ryan vowed  he'd
see I wouldn't experience. Still, I feel good for both of them. Maybe
Ryan's parents do dote on him. One thing I'm beginning to understand... this is
at times a contradictory and confusing family.


After cleaning the  kitchen, Ryan says, "After we brush our teeth, I'll
meet you in the basement.  Get the barber stuff." Ryan has me in the habit of
brushing my teeth after  dinner now, and there's nothing wrong with that. Up
to the third floor I go to  brush my teeth and then get the toiletry kit
with the barber tools. Then down to  Ryan's second floor bedroom to get Ryan's
hairdryer and shampoo. Carrying  everything downstairs to the first floor,
hoping I don't run into Mrs. Wilcox, I  hurry down to the basement. I haven't
been alone with her or Mr. W. for more  than a minute at a time and I'd
like to continue this trend if possible. In  the basement Ryan already has the
straight-back chair facing away from the sink  and he's sitting in it ready
for his shampoo. I line-up up the barber stuff on  the workbench, asking
Ryan, "What kind of haircut do you want?" he says, "Just a  regular preppy
haircut with a part on the side, but with shorter bangs. I'm  through with the
pompadour shit." I mumble, "Very wise of you." While shampooing  his hair I'm
thinking about Ryan giving me a haircut a few hours ago and  realizing
again how weird and sort of embarrassing the haircut fetish is,  especially to
the vast majority of people who don't have it. I didn't choose it  of course,
it chose me. Even shampooing and cutting other guy's hair is a little  bit
arousing at times, but not nearly as arousing as getting my hair cut. It was
 always a pleasant experience, but nothing like it's become since Ryan's
been  giving me these haircuts on a regular basis. While rubbing shampoo
through his  hair, I'm looking at him sitting here relaxed in the chair without
his glasses,  his eyes closed, and a peaceful expression on his face, and
wonder again why it  is he seems so sexy and hot to me.


As with my two  fetishes, I don't understand my sexual heat for Ryan, but
the reality of it  can't be denied or ignored. My submissive fetish is weaker
now, while my haircut  fetish is stronger. My sexual heat for Ryan is
weaker now too when compared the  way it was during that two or three month
period right after we first had sex  together. Then it was a runaway freight
train of sexual heat, so hot it's  couldn't sustain itself for long. That's not
to say my heat for him isn't still  significant because it is, and that
obviously has a lot to do with his  excellent way of performing dominant sex
with me, but it's more than that.  Sometimes it's like I can't get enough of
him, like right now I'd like to be  naked with him in bed sucking his cock and
rimming his ass. It's mostly a sexual  thing, but I have feelings for him
too. The confusing part is separating the  feelings I have for him from the
sexual heat, or vice versus. How much does the  sexual heat have to do with
me liking him so much, even loving him as friend,  and has he now become my
best friend after Chubby. No one can ever replace  Chubby and it stupid of me
to even need to think that thought. Our loving  friendship is a given as
certain as the stars, and will be so as long as there  are stars in the
universe. But other than Chubby, has Ryan become my best  friend. I'm not in love
with him, I know the difference between sexual heat and  love, when once I
didn't. Ryan's positive I'll fall in love with him in  time and I can't say
for certain I won't, but it'll never be 'in love' the way I  am with Robby,
that's also a certainty.


Ryan looks so cute  to me, and he smells so good his scent makes my mouth
water. Huh, it's probably  a good thing I'm not a cannibal. Fuck it, I lean
down and press my lips to his  sexy lips and get my tongue between them
licking his sparkling teeth. He opens  his mouth as he puts his arm around my
neck and gives me his magical kiss that  gets my dick hard. My nose against his
cheek sends his scent to my brain and my  dick gets harder making me moan
with sexual arousal. Ryan's lips suck mine and  then his tongue licks across
my lips and I lift my face a little, gasping for  air as he licks up the
front of my nose and some of his saliva gets inhaled  along with air and I back
away coughing. Ryan grins, pointing at the tent in my  lap making me blush.
"Are you sure you're not in love with me, Dylan?" I have to  grope myself
trying to be cool, but my cock feels so good it seems more  important than me
being cool about the sexual heat I feel for Ryan/Albert.  Taking a deep
breath, I go, "Fuck me, Ryan," and he tries keeping it light,  saying, "Ha, I
told you when we were driving down here you'd be nagging me to  fuck you
within a week. Didn't I predict that?" Taking another deep breath, I  mumble,
"Yeah, that's why I said that. I wanted to see you gloat about it." He
chuckles, "You were serious! Don't try telling me you were just fucking around."
I get my hands back into his shampoo ladened hair, saying, "Think whatever
you  want," and then start rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. This sink has
a spray  attachment at the end of a hose right next to the facet. While
it's convenient  for rinsing out the shampoo, it's obviously intended for
rinsing dirty  dishes.

Ryan's enjoying  himself, "You just nagged me to fuck you, admit it," and I
say, "So what?" He  goes, "Just saying I knew you would, that's all."
Drying his hair with a towel,  I'm like, "Don't get a big head, boyfriend, or
maybe I'll have a headache next  time you're horny." He laughs out loud, "How
the fuck could you be horny? I  fucked you three times a few hours ago." I
turn on the hairdryer instead of  responding to that because, yeah I was
sexually satisfied when we were coming  down for dinner, but he's getting me
aroused again, but not on purpose. When his  hair is so dry it's full of static
electricity when I comb it, I say, "Did you  ever think that maybe you make
me horny?" He reaches up to hold one of my hands,  seriously saying, "Yes, I
have, and that's the single best part of my life. The  best thing that's
ever happened to me. There's no way you can know how much I  love every
molecule in your body. I never knew it was possible to love another  person the
way I love you." I murmur, "Oh, that's, um, touching, Ryan," and I  hug his
head against my chest and kiss the side of his face. He shockingly  has tears
in his eyes when I let go of him, "Can't you love me too, Dylan, a  little
bit maybe." I'm taken aback by his needy sincerity when he said  that.
Gulping, I mutter, "I do love you, Ryan, you know that." He stands wiping  his
eyes, mumbling, "Thanks, but you know what I mean. Do the haircut  now."

Looking at his  bare torso, so slim but muscular too from the weight
lifting. He's got a hot  body. I rub the back of my fingers along his jaw feeling
his soft whiskers, then  turn the clippers on, almost in a fog, and begin
his haircut. We both feel  awkward after the unequal declarations of love,
usually an uncomfortable subject  for me when had with anyone other than Robby.
I've got to stop leading Ryan on,  and I'm not intentionally doing it.
Still it's so unfair of me! Then, oh fuck! I  didn't put a guide on the clippers
and I used them on the back of his head.  Dammit, I wasn't paying attention
because my mind was on our relationship.  Standing back, I say, "I fucked
up, Ryan," and he says, "We're in the house,  Daniel! My name's, Albert."
Well fuck, he's the one who was calling me Dylan  five minutes ago, but I
mutter, "Sorry, Albert." Feeling the back of his head,  he asks, "How'd ya fuck
up?" I hold up the clippers, "I didn't have a guide on  the clippers and
started your haircut with the bare blade," and I almost say,  'Like you used for
my haircut,' but I don't. He looks at me without saying  anything for a few
seconds, then says, "I don't want to believe you did that on  purpose out
of spite." I go, "I swear I didn't. My mind was on your sweet words  of love
for me and I was sincerely touched. I, um, I didn't realize how deeply  you
felt, um, like that. Sorry, I really am, um, about this mistake," as I hold
up the clippers again unnecessarily. He's smelling the back of his hand
thinking, then he says, "Oh, well... ah, yeah, I... Well can you make it work? My
 haircut, I mean, can you fix it?" I'm rubbing my nose to keep from
smelling the  back of my hand too, I mumble. "Yeah, of course, I can fix it except
it'll be  shorter than you want." He feels the back of his head again,
"Feels like  sandpaper." I nod, "Yeah," and he goes, "Do the best you can, and
it's okay,  Daniel, don't worry about it. Just a mistake and we all make
mistakes."


Being very  careful, I finish his haircut the best way I can do and while
I'm not totally  happy with the way his haircut turns out, but it's not as
bad as I first  thought. Ryan's looking in the mirror, saying, "It's fine, it
looks fine to me."  He looks some more, then asks, "How else could I comb
this, Daniel? It looks so  boring and I don't mean your haircutting. That's
very professional, but the  style I asked for is boring. I kinda want
something else." We discuss  possibilities, and there are a few because he has an
excellent full head of  hair. We settle on what amounts to a short, no-comb
summer cut without a part.  The hair stands up only on the crown, with short
bangs he just brushes to the  side a little. He goes, "This is perfect,
thanks." I'm not sure he's as happy  with it as he claims, but I think it looks
good and makes sense for the summer.  After checking himself out it the
mirror again, Ryan moves on to the next order  of business. As I sweep up the
hair from the cement floor, he gets his golf  clubs out. Wow, they're awesome.
He's right, they're like new. He gives me a  golf lesson right here in the
basement, mostly using the driver. Following his  instructions I try some
swings with Ryan critiquing every swing until he says,  "That's a good start
with the driver, let putt for awhile." He has a putting  layout, almost like a
game. It spreads out on the floor with a cup at the end.  Putting is harder
than it looks. Ryan says, "We're putting on a perfectly flat  surface.
Imagine when sloping greens with undulations you can barely  see."

After putting for  twenty minutes we shoot pool for almost two hours with
Ryan claiming there's  some similarities between pool and putting.  Ryan's
better at shooting pool  than I remember from the one unfortunate night we
were shooting pool at his  friend Felix's house. Ryan wins every game but I
feel I'm getting better by the  time we quit. We never do have another sexy
time together tonight. Neither of us  even brings up the topic, probably
because of our earlier conversation. I didn't  want to ask for it again. I don't
know why Ryan doesn't mention it. We just have  a quick kiss goodnight.
Later, in bed, I get this enormous urge to go downstairs  and get in bed with
Ryan. I want to feel his naked body against mine and smell  him and lick his
body then have his huge hard cock up my ass. Maybe I just miss  sleeping with
another guy after all those months sleeping with Robby. It's like  Ryan
turned me down when I asked him to fuck me and now thinking about him  almost
has me jerking off for the first time in over a year. Oh man, I got it  bad
for him again! Forcing myself to get off that topic, I think about the up  and
down time Ryan and I have had since leaving work, but fall asleep before
coming to an understanding about anything.


Tuesday morning  I'm in Ryan's bedroom dressed and ready to go, as I watch
him get dressed. I  say, "I had the strongest urge you can ever imagine
wanting to come in here last  night and get in bed with you." He stops pulling
his pants on, "Really? Wow,  that makes me feel awesome. Thanks for telling
me." I shrug, "It's no secret I  have the hots for you, Albert. You know
that." He buckles his belt, "Yeah, I  know you do and I've told you every time
you mention it that I'm thrilled beyond  belief that you feel that way about
me. That being said, I don't know when  we're gonna have the opportunity for
sex today. Certainly not at work or on the  golf course, and then we're
back home for dinner. Maybe we can take a drive  somewhere, whaddaya think?"
Holy shit! A day without getting fucked? I never  gave that possibility a
thought when contemplating this summer with Ryan. Never  once. As we're walking
down stairs together, I'm like, "Um, would you be okay  not having sex with
me today?" He goes, "No, I'm not okay with it, but sometimes  it just isn't
going to work out." We're in the basement getting my golf clubs,  Ryan's old
ones, to put in the Mini for our golf lesson after work, "But, Ryan,  back
at college you said we'd be screwing three or four times a day." He acts
irritated, "Yes, that's when I thought we'd be sleeping together. Are we
sleeping together?" I mumble, "No, but you don't need to jump down my fucking
throat."


For the second day  in a row we don't talk during the drive to work, today
with Ryan driving. After  going through all the guard's check points we're
in the break/lunch room, again  the first to arrive, both of us getting
coffees with Ryan mumbling, "I need to  meet with Josh every morning for five or
ten minutes, but before I go I want to  apologize for this morning. I'm
sorry I jumped down your throat about the sex  thing. And I'm not gonna let you
down, Daniel, we'll definitely find a way." I  go, "You sound like you're
doing me a favor or something. Don't you want to as  well." He says, "More
than you know, baby. You should know that by now." I nod,  "I do, and, ah, I
think you're awesome," and I kiss his lips real fast." He rubs  my head,
saying, "Thanks, you too. I gotta go," and before he walks out the door  he says,
"Don't forget what I told you to do  if anyone mentions your  haircut." I
wave, "Okay..." I sit down with my coffee wondering why I'm so leery  about
saying what he wants me to say. I was blasé about my gayness back home so  why
am I up tight about it here? I try convincing myself it'd be flaunting my
gayness  to say, 'My boyfriend gives me haircuts. Any kind he feels like.'
Saying the words, 'my boyfriend' is the flaunting part. I could say, 'My
friend'... that wouldn't be throwing the fact I'm gay in someone's face. Is  it
flaunting or is it causing me more trouble than it's worth? It's looking for
trouble, is what it is. Stupid!

Dog walks in,  "Yo, Danny boy," and my heart starts beating because I'm
nervous. Dog's the only  one I'm worried about telling I'm gay. The others I
don't really care about.  Yeah, that's it, it's Dog that makes me hesitant
about saying what Ryan told me  to say. He sits down with his tea in a more
outgoing mood than yesterday. I  think he feels comfortable with me. "I got
that mothafuckan machines  working for me now, boy!" I grin, "Yeah, and ya
learned how to use  that
complicated machine so fast too." He says, "Yeah, it's a  confusing
mothafucka alright. Hey, you sure like short haircuts. Your daddy a  Navy Seal or
some such thing like that?" I go, "No, my boyfriend likes this  haircut. He
gives me a haircut every week." He laughs, "Dude, you need a new  mothafuckan
boyfriend," and he gets up to look closer as I blush with my face  getting
so hot perspiration breaks out on my forehead. He sits down, saying, "I
need to do something with my mothafuckan hair too, but I don't know what.
Cornrows are old school, ya know?" I shrug as my face tries cooling down. I ask,
 "Ya don't mind that I'm gay?" He goes, "Mind? What fuckin' business is it
of  mine. No, I don't mind, why would I? Do you mind I'm black?" I mutter,
"Of  course not, but that's different than being gay." He says, "Yeah, it is,
but I  still don't mind. Y'all my partner here and we stick together.
mothafucka."  I nod and drop the subject, feeling okay about it, but I'm glad
that's  out in the open. Ryan was right.


Sam come in next,  gets a coffee and hesitantly sits down with us like he
expects us to yell at him  or something. Dog says, "In early today, Sammy,"
and Sam says, "Yesterday I  almost peed my pants thinking I was gonna be
late." Dog says, "Yeah, don't do  that mothafuckan peeing your pants stuff." The
rest of the crew drifts in giving a  little wave or head nod at us, but no
one mentions my haircut to me. The morning  goes very much like yesterday
afternoon. We work  through more of the boxes we unloaded off the truck
yesterday. They're stacked  at the front of the work space and the whole place
smells like cardboard by now.  Dog is a little bit more talkative as we work
together and unbeknownst to him  he's making me horny. I wonder if that
thought occurs to him  now that he knows I'm gay. He didn't ask who my boyfriend
is, which I'm really  glad about. His reaction to my gayness makes me like
him a whole lot, and maybe  that has something to do with me all of a sudden
thinking he sexy. Nah, I  thought he was a hot and sexy thing yesterday too.
Yeah, but he  didn't make me horny yesterday. I might as well put that
puzzle with all the  other things I don't understand about myself.


Ryan checks on how  I'm doing five or six times during the day, but I see
him checking on the other  guys too. Right after the two-thirty break Sam's
razor slips and he cuts the  index finger of his left hand. Lots of blood.
Aaron clamps his fist around it  like a pressure bandage as Ryan runs over to
them. We all stop to watch, hearing  Aaron say, "I'm going to faint. I'm
going to fucking faint if I look at the  blood." Oh brother! Ryan says,
"Daniel, get a paper towel," which I do from the  bathroom and run back. We wrap it
around the finger with Ryan applying pressure  and they leave for the first
aid room. Sam never said a word, but he was white  as a sheet. Aaron's
sitting down at his computer, sweat on his face, saying,  "Someone get me a wet
towel." Dog looks at me rolling his eyes. I shrug and run  for another paper
towel, wetting this one. Aaron wipes his face acting like he's  the one who
cut himself. He says, "I was in the Navy years ago and one of the  sailors
almost had his arm cut off when a life boat  came loose and pinned  his arm
against a hinge. After seeing that I get squeamish seeing blood." Then  he
looks around and sees we're all back to work, so he crumbles up the paper
towel muttering something under his breath. Dog mumbles, "Drama queen," and we
 open another box. That's the excitement for Tuesday at work.


After work, Ryan  and I get to the golf club and I carry my clubs to the
pro shop where Ryan  greets the golf pro, Terrance Merriweather, who says,
"Ah, young Wilcox is back  for more. How are you, Albert." Ryan says, "I've
been excellent. I'd like you  the meet my boyfriend, Dyl, um, Daniel Newman."
We shake hands briefly and from  the pro's expression he took 'boyfriend' in
the traditional sense. I'm a boy,  and I'm Ryan-Albert's friend. It can be
taken that way at times depending on how  you say 'boyfriend', I guess.
Nowadays though, a guy introducing another guy as  his  'boyfriend' means they're
gay. Straights today leave the 'boy' off  'boyfriend' when introducing
someone. After a twenty minute ordeal the pro has  Ryan hooked-up with an $1800
set of golf clubs, golf bag to carry then in, and a  golf umbrella. Ryan
says, "We both need golf shoes too." We get Footjoy golf  shoes. That's the
brand name that Mr. Merriweather says are still the best golf  shoe made. He
tells us to call him, Terry, and off we go to the driving  range.


Terry changes my grip on the club  making it more difficult to swing the
driver if you ask me. He claims I need to  stick with this grip or I'll never
hit the ball straight, and he gives each of  us a bucket of balls  to
practice with. He works with  Ryan next and  soon I'm hitting line drives and
grounders, more appropriate for baseball than  golf. Ten feet away Ryan's
hitting high long balls out past the 175 marker, some  past the 225 marker too,
but not many. Terry call over to me, sternly saying,  "Don't watch your
friend, Danny. Pay attention to what you're trying  unsuccessfully to do." Oh
yeah, so I nervously tee a ball up. That's what the  stick you put a golf ball
on is called... a tee. Chubby and I played t-ball as  five and six years olds,
only the tee was much taller and we were hitting the  stationary baseballs
off it. Little bit different than this tiny ball at my  feet. I'm beginning
to think Ryan's old golf clubs are the problem, so I ask  Terry if he thinks
these are the right clubs for me. He laughs, and calls over,  "Yes, son, the
clubs are fine. The problem is you've got a $1500 set of golf  clubs with a
ten cent swing." Ryan yells, "Hey, Terry, what the fuck? Encourage  him,
don't ridicule him, like you've done twice in ten minutes. That's total  bull
shit. It's his first time, fer chrissakes." Ryan's really pissed off. His
face bright red as he's glaring at Terry, who says, "You're right of course,
Albert. Sorry Dan, just a little golf course humor." Ryan comes over,
mumbling,  "Sorry about that, Daniel. Take your time and keep your eye on the
ball." I hit  a few balls with Ryan watching and he pats my shoulder, saying,
"You're a  hellava lot better than I was my fist day," then to Terry, "Work
with Daniel the  rest of the lesson, I'll keep trying to get my swing to
repeat like you said."  And that's what we do. Terry's very accommodating now so
I guess Ryan's father  carries some weight around here. I still can't get
over how protective Ryan was  and how quickly the pro backed down. I've never
spoken to a real adult like Ryan  did to Terry in my entire life. I know
legally we're adults too, but come  on...


I feel real good  by the time our forty-five minutes are up, but I've got a
blister on the side of  my left hand. I knew I should have worn a glove on
both hands. Ryan looks at it,  and says, "Rub some dirt on it and man-up,"
then he grins putting his arm across  my shoulders as we carry the clubs to
the locker room. Terry said they're short  on lockers so we need to share
one. As we walk, Ryan says, "That's a bad  blister, Daniel. It's big and full
of liquid already." I go, Yeah, and it hurt  like hell every time I swung the
club the last ten  or fifteen minutes of  our lesson. Now it hurt when I
barely touch it." He says, "When we get home I'll  need to pop that thing for
you or you'll be in pain at work where you need to  use both hands all day."
We're going down steps to the locker room, "What do you  mean pop it." He
goes, "Don't worry about it now, baby. I'll take care of it for  you," and he
squeezes my shoulder reassuringly, but it doesn't sound like I'm  going to
enjoy the popping . I go, "Thanks for taking my side back there with  Terry
earlier," and he shakes his head, "It's nothing, he was way the fuck out  of
line."


We put our clubs  in the locker along with our golf shoes, then wash up in
the big lavatory where  three middle age men are showering, and one is
standing at a urinal bare ass  naked taking a piss. Exhibitionists! I avert my
eyes because it's not a pretty  sight. These guys are not in good shape. It's
steamy in here from the showers so  we get out as fast as we can drying our
face and hands as we walk back into the  air conditioned locker room. Just
as we're going up the steps two guys are  coming down with their golf bags,
the clubs rattling against one another as they  come down the steps. It looks
like a father and son duo with the man's hair  turning gray and his son
looking pretty good, probably in his late teen years.  The steps are wide
enough for Ryan to pass by them while I need to flatten  against the wall of the
staircase to let them pass. The kid steps on my  sneakered foot wearing golf
shoes with spikes, and I yelp. He stops, saying,  "Watch where you're
going, and anyway this is a private club for members only,  so what are you doing
here?" His father kept going and he's turned the corner  heading for the
lockers. I don't want to cause trouble in the Wilcox's country  club, but I
say, "I'm a junior member, Blondie, and you stepped on my fuckin'  foot." He
puts a hand on my chest and starts to say something, then I don't know
exactly what happened, but Blondie went ass over tea kettle down the steps with
his clubs all falling out of the bag and him winding up laying on his back
on  the floor with his feet stretched up the steps. I turn my head and
there's Ryan  with another red face snarling at the kid, "Spencer, you're such an
asshole!" The kid says, "You could have broken my fucking legs, faggot."
Ryan  starts down the steps and the kid's head turns to the right as he yells
into the  locker room, "Dad!" Ryan mumbles, "Pussy," then he nods his head
at me, then  nods toward the top of the stairs. I continue going up, but Ryan
stays there as  the kid's picking himself up.


Standing at the  top of the stairs looking down at Ryan's back I see the
kid stand up and his  father asking what happened. Ryan's polite giving his
side of the story and all  I hear when Ryan does raise his voice, is, "... my
boyfriend's foot and this  jackass..." The father says something like, "... no
one got hurt," and... Say  hello to your father..." Then Ryan and Spencer
shake hands briefly although it  doesn't look like Spencer's heart was in it.
Ryan comes up the stairs, saying,  "That kid's a bona fide asshole and he
always has been." As we walk to the car,  I mumble, "My hero," and he looks
over giving me a grin," mumbling, 'Damn  straight. It scared me both times
today at how angry I got. My fuckin'  adrenaline was roaring. I saw red when
Merriweather said that to you on the  driving range. He's the pro who's
suppose to be teaching and encouraging, and  for a hundred dollars a lesson I
might add." I smile at Ryan thinking how I  always felt good knowing Robby and
especially Chubby had my back at all times,  and now this tough little wild
man is stepping right in having my back in  Marietta, Georgia. Well, of
course I have his back too. I bump into his side  affectionately as we grin at
each other, then he mumbles, "Bad-ass faggot,  that's me." I go, "Don't use
that word." Ryan lights a cigarette, then passes it  to me and lights one for
himself. We lean against the Mini and smoke our  cigarettes talking about
today's golf lesson. I can't wait for  Thursday.


On the way home we  see a pickup with a gun rack at the back window. The
guy has a bumper sticker I  can't read until the car right in front of us
passes the pickup. His bumper  sticker, 'HEAVILY ARMED and easily pissed'.
Fuckin' hick. His other  bumper sticker, 'dogs die in hot cars' which is true
enough, but I  wonder if it has another meaning to the gunslinger. At the house
we shower and  get dressed for dinner. I stop in at Ryan's bedroom, not
wanting to go  downstairs without my security blanket. Ryan says, "Oh good,
you're here. Sit at  my desk, Daniel, and let me look at your blister." I lay
my hand on the desk and  Ryan picks it up and holds it, palm-up on his left
hand. His hand feels good on  mine. I look at his face with a warm feeling
coming over me. He's very serious  and concerned sucking on his sexy lips. He
wipes rubbing alcohol gently on and  around the blister, that's seemingly
getting bigger by the minute. "I've  scrubbed my hand and soaked this needle
in alcohol, Daniel," and I try pulling  my hand away. "No, don't stick it,
Albert! It's super sore and tender." Looking  into my eyes, he says,
"Goddammit, don't pull your hand away." Holding my  breath I watch his steady right
hand bring the needle close to the bottom of the  blister, then quickly
punctures the blister and I scream out trying to pull my  hand away but he's too
strong. He lightly presses presses the  blister and clear liquid drools out
until it's flat. Ryan rubs  disinfectant all around and on the blister, then
puts on a round  bandage. He pats my shoulder, "Good, boy. Lets eat."

Going down the  stairs with him, I'm looking at him out of the corner of my
eyes with  strange feelings for Ryan I can't understand. Ryan since leaving
Merrimack is in  some ways the Ryan I know from college, but in other ways
he seems much more  than that. He seems to have qualities I never expected
or thought he was capable  of having. A few times I've had this weird
sensation of being his little brother  or younger boyfriend. For now I'll attribute
that to me being a stranger in a  strange land depending mostly on Ryan to
guide me through this. Maybe a  week from now I'll be more comfortable with
everything and won't need to depend  on him so much, and maybe I'll feel
differently. Mrs. W. has prepared another  very good dinner, roast pork tonight
with good side dishes. Ryan says grace, so  I see a pattern. Him and me
alternate saying grace and the parents don't  participate except to says
something like, 'Very nice, thank you.'. The  conversation's about our golf lesson
at first with Ryan telling about Spencer  stepping on my foot, and his
mother saying, "The Klines are all trouble, Albert.  Your father has a feud
running with Mr. Klines' brother. Anyway, good for you  for sticking up for
Daniel," and she reaches over to pat my arm. I almost pulled  it away because it
was so unexpected. When we're finished dinner, but before  dessert, Mrs. W.
asks me, "Would you clear the table please, Daniel? I need to  talk to
Albert for just a second or two." For some reason I'm blushing while  taking the
dishes to the kitchen, feeling foolish somehow.


After we have dessert and we've  cleaned up, Ryan gives me a pamphlet
titled, 'One hundred appropriate  blessing at meals for Baptists', saying,
"Memorize some of the short ones  so you don't go blank one night like I've done a
couple of times." I mutter,  "Thanks," then ask, "Um, what are we going to
do tonight, Albert?" He makes a  'face' and says, "I've got bad news, for me
anyway. I've got to help mother  tonight at the church. She volunteered me
for the fourth of July celebration and  the first meeting's tonight. They
believe starting early, huh? She sprung that on me  when you were clearing the
table. Sorry, buddy." I'm like, "I don't have to go?"  He shakes his head,
"No, you're not a member of the congregation and they're  picky about that.
You wouldn't want to go anyhow, take my word for it." I nod my  head,
mumbling, "Okay," and he says, "For now, run that pamphlet up to your  room." On
my way to the third floor it occurs to me how easily Ryan's telling me  what
to do already, and how easily I do it. What's it going to be like in week
ten if it's like this in week one? If my dick wasn't stiffening up and
feeling  good, I'd be a little worried about that.


When I get back  down to the first floor I hear Ryan talking to his mother
in the kitchen, so I  stop and listen. I can only hear a little of what
they're saying. Ryan saying  something, but all I hear is, "... no, of course it's
safe to leave him here  alone." She says something, and Ryan, goes, "Never
happen, trust me, I know him  and I'd trust him with my life." I clear my
throat and walk down the hall to the  kitchen as his mother says, "Of course
you're right, son," then I come in and  Ryan asks, "Ya wanna take the Mini
out and check out the town?" I shake my head,  "No thanks, I'll read in my
room." He chuckles because he's never seen me read a  book other than a text
book. He goes, "Sure, we'll be back by nine o'clock." His  mother asks, "What
are you reading, Daniel?" I go, 'The Last Don', it's an older  book." She
says, "Yes, by Mario Puzo?" I'm like, "Uh huh, yes, ma'am," and she  says, "I
read that years ago. Enjoy yourself." As they leave she tells Ryan,  "You
should be more like your boyfriend and read a book now and then." I hear  him
chuckling again, then mumbling, "Yes, ma'am" and then the door slams. For
some reason when we were all in the library the other night I noticed that
one  book in their bookcase. Easy title to remember, although I had no idea
who the  author was. Huh, and Mrs. W. doesn't trust me in her house alone.
That should  piss me off except I see her side of it. She doesn't know me and
there's  probably some valuable things around here. They'll be around here
when she gets  back too, I'm not a thief.



I go to my room  and call Robby. We talk for half an hour mostly him
quizzing me about what I've  been doing here. I tell him about the job that's
paying  fourteen dollars  an hour, and the golf lesson, the pond with the
waterfall, the formal dinners.  Robby's laughing when I tell him about me saying
grace, and on and on. He  finally says, "Sounds like you're doing a lot
better and having more fun that  me. We've had a lot of rain here and you know
what a bitch it is landscaping in  wet conditions. It sucks. Oh, Seth's got a
boyfriend. I met him and he's a cute  guy, younger than Seth. I think he
turned eighteen a few weeks ago, They met in  the college thing Seth's working
on, mostly an online college education, but  they also meet once a week for
two hours of class. Seth said by the end of the  summer he'll complete
freshman year." He tells me Danny's been sulking lately  and he spent last
weekend back home. Neither of us comes close to mentioning  anything about
side-sex. Not a single word. I ask him about Chubby and he tells  me my brother's
been awesome keeping everyone's spirits up, just as funny as  ever. It makes
me want to call him so when we finally tell one another how much  we miss
and love each other, with Robby sounding choked-up when we end the
conversation. It makes me homesick for him, and everything in  Framingham.


Chubby answers his  cellphone even though he's on a date in the Jeep
driving to a party of some  kind. Chub said he saw my caller ID and got excited,
which obviously makes me  feel good. I'd expect him to tone down his words of
affection for me since his  girlfriend's in the car with him, and it's not
MJ, so it's even more surprising  that he tells me that he knew he'd miss
me, but he never expected to find  himself moping around my bedroom touching
my stuff. He goes, "Dylan, I'm only  half a person without you. I love you,
bro, and miss you more than I can say." I  hear a girl's voice, but can't
make it out, but I hear Chubby plainly stay,  "Shut up! This is my brother I'm
talking to," then to me, "Ya having any fun?"  and I tell him everything I
told Robby plus, "Robby says you've been awesome on  the job keeping
everyone's spirits up and that you're as funny as ever." He  says, "I'm most
definitely not as funny as ever because you're not here. I'm  faking being funny on
the job, it's all a bullshit kind of funny without you." I  laugh, "You
can't fake being funny, Chub, you either are or you're not." "I'm  telling ya,
bro, I'm fucking faking it," then he tells me about last Sunday's  brunch
with the moms, "It was like a fucking wake without you there, Dylan. All  we
needed was a fucking body, and I can't make that goddamn potato casserole
either, not like you can. I'm realizing I've been pretending to cook when all
the time it's you who's the cook, the chef! I'm only a sous chef at best.
Jesus, I had pancakes and waffles for Sunday's brunch, plus pastry and those
 cinnamon buns I always get. The Pillsbury ones. Nobody has pancakes and
waffles or Danish pastry and cinnamon  buns, the kind with icing."  He goes
on with his bullshit, trying to make me feel missed and loved and he
succeeds pretty well with both. I finally get a word in asking if his  girlfriend's
still in the car, and he goes, "Oh fuck no, she went inside to the  party
twenty minutes ago. She's got one big tit and one small one. I've never  seen
that on a girl before, have you?" Before I can answer he goes, "We have one
 big nut hanging lower and the higher nut is smaller, so maybe Brenda is
part  boy, only with her tits acting like a guys nuts. It's just a theory,
Dylan.  Whaddaya think?" I say, "Mostly I think I miss  you, Chubby." He goes,
"Oh I'm visiting you, bro! No fucking way am I going five  weeks without
seeing you. Oh, and I might punch Ryan out too, I'm not sure about  that yet."
The way he spurts things out has always made me laugh from way back  when we
were both three fucking years old. He was a hilariously funny three year
old. Yeah, he's funny so why are tears running down my face?

We finally say  goodbye, probably embarrassing ourselves when we later
think of our sappy  sentiments for one another. When I click the 'end' key I sit
in the desk chair  feeling empty and lonely, so I have myself a little cry,
then wash up in the  bathroom reminding myself I'm suppose to be maturing
on my own, not crying,  that's not maturing. So I flop on my bed thinking
about first Chubby, then  Robby, and back to Chubby. It's only been ten days
and I'm already a basket  case. I feel worse after talking to those two, and
because of our schedules I  need to wait until the weekend to call mom, but
that'll be another traumatic  experience. Hey, maybe this is part of the
maturing process. I think about that,  coming, as usual, to no conclusion.
Taking my wallet out, I look a me and  Chubby when we were little kids, then
Robby and me kissing in a 'selfie'. He's  so good looking and I can almost feel
his lips on mine the way I felt them when  I snapped this picture. I want to
see current pictures of Chubby so pull my  cellphone out and scroll through
the pictures finding a lot of Chubby. Gee, the  different haircuts I've
given him. Oh fuck, he looks so sexy with the flat top  haircut and his grin
makes my eyes water. God, I love him so! Putting my cell  phone down I take a
deep breath trying to calm down and act my age. Then I  exchange texts with
guys congratulating Seth and he sends a picture of 'Markie".  Jesus! He's
cute with his head next to Seth's. Seth's cute too but he's just had  a
haircut when this pic was taken and I'm jealous I wasn't his barber. Seth is  so
sweet. Then I think of Connor, who Seth's always reminded me of whenever I'm
with him. I text Connor and Dodger, but they're doing something and don't
read  the text right now. Later they'll see them. Framingham boys are the
best ever,  but I'm just making myself more homesick, so I stop texting and
just lay here  hoping Ryan gets back soon.

Ryan and his  mother do not get back by nine o'clock. It's almost ten when
Ryan texts me that  they'll be leaving soon. If Ryan hadn't driven off with
his mother would I be  suspicious about this delay, like maybe he's with one
of those sick perverts  he's frequented in the past? If Ryan went off alone
would I start thinking he's  fucking or being fucked by someone? Probably,
and I find that I'd be jealous if  he did that. Huh! Well, that's not
unheard of now that I think about it. The two  or three months Robby and Ryan were
hot items together I was wildly jealous of  both, and that's probably
fairly rare.  I mean being equally jealous of  both. I haven't really given much
thought to how I'd feel if Ryan was fucking  one of these Marietta lads on
the side.  Maybe that's because of the  unlikelihood of that ever happening.
If I can believe Ryan, and I do, he's never  had a boyfriend, just the
dominant sadists treating him badly. Still, if some  miracle happened and he did
run into someone this summer, it would make me  jealous and like I said,
that surprises me.


I lay here  thinking about that, and about Ryan. The fact that he's in love
with me and  readily admits it probably influences how I feel about him.
Right now I have a  lot of feelings about him, especially because he's not
here. I'm just realizing  that I like many things about Ryan, while I can't
think of a single think I  don't like about him. Sure we get in little spats,
but then so do Robby and me  and even my mom and me, but very rarely. I've
never been close to any kind of a  'spat' with Chubby. 'Spat', is that even a
fucking word? For the hell of it, and  for something to do, I go online.
Huh, Webster says 'spat' is the past tense of  'spit', but the Urban Dictionary
and Dictionary.com both say, 'spat' is an  'argument or disagreement' so
they got it right. Taking a look out the window I  see headlights coming up
the driveway. Watching the car come up the long drive  I'm smelling the back
of my hand wondering if this is excitement I'm feeling  because pretty soon
I'll be with Ryan. He promised we'd do 'it' and it's after  ten o'clock
already and we haven't. We went without sex a night or two during  the drive down
here so it's not like I'll collapse without sex for a night, but  he did
promise, so ya know...


Walking down the  stairs to the second floor I look over the railing to the
two story foyer below,  but they won't come in the front door so this does
no good. Anyway I should be  in my room when they come in. Back up the
stairs I go, to again flop on the bed,  then I get right up to look out the
window again. Am I missing Ryan this much?  Is that it? I think so, yeah. We've
been together constantly, even sleeping  together until we got home, so I'm
missing my security blanket. Oop's, I said  'home' when I meant to say, 'his
house'. Someone's coming up the stairs from the  first floor. Looking out my
door, then going halfway down the steps I'm just in  time to see Ryan's
back as he walks down the hall to his room. Why didn't he  come up here to see
me? He really does look cool with his new haircut. It makes  him look kind
of tough. He should get different glasses or contacts though. I  wait a half
hour getting more and more antsy. I really need to at least give him  a hug
and a kiss goodnight. Creeping down the steps in my stocking feet I walk
down to his room, constantly glancing back at the other end of the hall where
his parents bedroom suite is. Don't want to explain what I'm doing sneaking
down  the hall to Ryan's room, not to her. Anyway, what the fuck am I
doing? His  door's closed but I can just hear him talking. Who the fuck's he
talking to?  Looking down to his parents room again, then I put my ear against
the door and  hear him laughing. No other voice though, so he must be on his
cellphone. I'm  not barging in there so I turn around and retrace my steps
to the third floor  and sit in my bed looking at my watch.


At eleven o'clock  I'm really pissed off at him. He's being just plain
rude! Not even saying  goodnight. I get undress, putting on pajama bottoms. I
don't wear  PJ's except in the winter at home, but here I've been wearing
pajama  bottoms for some reason. Maybe the house catches on fire and I have to
go  running down stairs. Don't want to have jockey tighty-whities on. After
using  the bathroom washing up, and brushing my teeth I get in bed assuming
I'm going to go to sleep mad for the first in a long time. That goddamned
self-centered Ryan! Stroking my cock a few times I admit to myself... I want
him  so bad! God, I can't even stay mad at him, I need him. I want to feel his
naked  body and smell his awesome scent... and oh man this sucks. Making
myself get a  grip I get under the covers just imagining my pout tomorrow.
Maturing? Fuck  that, I want me some Ryan Wilcox. Flopping around in bed, still
very agitated  that I can't have my Ryan 'fix'. How could I have taken that
for granted? Okay,  I'm out of fucking control. This is insanity. Blowing out
a lot of air I relax a  little, then chuckle at myself. You pathetic
over-sex little shit. Can't even go  one day without Ryan fucking you, huh?
Rubbing my nose, I yawn a big one. Turn  over and get ready to go to sleep telling
myself I've been acting like a  fool.


I must have fallen  asleep because something woke me. "Shh, Daniel," I go,
"Oh!" startled I'm  scrambling to the other side of the bed as Ryan giggles,
then, "Shhh," and he  gets under the cover with me and I'm over to him in a
flash wrapping my arms  around him and kissing his cheek." He murmurs,
That's the kind of greeting I  like from my boyfriend." I'm stupidly hugging him
tightly and kissing him again.  I don't care, I did miss him and now he's
here in bed with me. I go, "Mmmm, you  smell so good, Ryan," and with the
palm of one hand he smacks my cheek lightly,  "I'm Albert." I murmur, "Sorry,"
and squeeze his body to mine. Ryan whispers,  "What the fuck are you
wearing?" I say, "PJ bottoms," and he's like, "Well get  'em off," and I pull them
down, then kick them off and push them further down  towards the bottom of
the mattress. I now feel Ryan's bare skin and privates  against my body
making me shudder and snuggle in tightly against him. He puts  his arm around me
kissing the side of my face as I whisper, "Albert, did you  come up here
naked?" He chuckles, "NO, of course not. I took off my boxer shorts  before
getting in bed and you're the one who smells good." He shakes his head  side to
side sliding his nose on the side of my head.


My fingers play  through his hair as I quietly ask, "Why didn't you come up
sooner, Albert?" He  has his lips on my ear, murmuring, "Did you miss me?"
I nod my head in the dark,  murmuring, "Yes, much more than I thought I
would. It was creepy being in this  big house without you." He goes, "Ah, that's
sweet, baby. I missed you too. I  was going to come right up to see you
when I got home, but I got two calls, one  from Rob checking up on you. He said
he talked to you earlier and you sounded  lonely and he was worried about
you. Then Felix called and we caught up a  little." I ask, "What'd you tell
Rob?" and he goes, "What you told me, that  you'll always love him and that
he shouldn't worry about you or about us." I go,  "Oh, okay. Anything else?"
He goes, "Yeah, I told him what I told you, that I'm  going to do everything
I can to steal you from him and that I expect to be  successful." I go,
"Jesus! You said that?" He laughs quietly giving me a hug,  "Of course not, you
nut. I don't need Rob Dickers flying down here and kicking  my ass."

I find his lips and kiss him on the mouth, "You're my hero in  Georgia,
Ryan. I wanna say thanks, um, for loving me like you do. It's, ah,not
something I take for granted, and, ah, you know, I think you're special and  you've
been awesome ever since we got here." Oooh, man, I need to take a deep
breath, "I'm kinda a little overwhelmed actually, can't catch my breath." He
says, "Shhh, you don't need to say anything, Dylan, I can see how much you
care  for me." I rub my face against his, then we rub noses and I hug around
his neck,  murmuring, "I'm acting stupid, sorry. I just loved how you stuck up
for me today  and the way you were so nice trying to encourage me with the
golf, and you took  care of my blister, although that hurt almost as much as
getting my nipple  pierced." He puts his lips on my ear and whispers, "Ya
big baby," and I grin in  the dark. I'm squirming my naked body against his
until he gets my jaw between  his thumb and fingers pulling my mouth to his
and we get into one of the hottest  make-out's we've ever had. So hot I've
got tears in my eyes again and my  cock is so hard the head's going to split
down the middle. I've dragged precum  all around the top of Ryan's legs,cock
and  balls, his  pubic hair is wet with my precum and it's on his belly. My
emotions have been  running wild all night and I'm just lucky I've got Ryan
to share them with me even though they're some  crazy emotions.

I feel his strong  arms holding me against him, with him whispering, "Calm
down, Dylan, you're  going to hurt yourself. What is it? Why are you so wild
tonight." I'm gasping,  then mumble, "I don't know, Ryan," and he smacks my
ass., "I told you to call  me, Albert." I stop struggling,. "But you called
me..." He goes, "I know. I  called you 'Dylan' a few times, but I'm allowed
to because I'm the boss. You're  not allowed to because you're not. It's
what's known as a double standard." He's  wrestled me on top of him, my back
against his chest and his arms around my  stomach. I mumble, "Double standard?
Why...?" then I get it. He's doing his  dominant stuff. I move my head so I
can rest the back of it on his shoulders  with his little beard along his jaw
tickling the side of my chin. "Oh," I say,  "Okay, you're my boss. No more
using your college name." I can feel his  cheek moving so I know he's
grinning, and when he says,  "Good, boy," I can  hear the grin in the way he said
it. He's arms are just light around me now that  I've stopped squirming all
over his body. My boner's sticking straight up and  the head's shiny with
precum. I can just see it from the light of the moon  coming through the
bedroom window.


Sliding off his  body to my side with my hand rubbing his hairless smooth
chest and stomach, then  gently trawling his left nipple between my thumb and
forefinger, I whisper, "I  think my cock is going to split open if it gets
any harder, Albert, and I  want to stoke it so badly. Whaddaya think, can
I?" He chuckles, "I think you  better not touch it because it's my job to fuck
your orgasms out of you." I ask  in a hushed whisper, "Do you think you
could do that now?" He runs the back of  his fingers through the quarter inch
hairs on top of my head, murmuring, "In a  while. For now I just would to lay
with you and enjoy this. It's no surprise to  you that I love when you're
showing me this much affection and demonstrating the  way you feel about me."
His hand's cupping the back of my head pulling  it over so the side of my
face is resting on his chest, then he goes back to  rubbing his fingers
through my very short hair and I think of that fucking  haircut and the thrill it
gave my fetish and a quiet moan, one I  wasn't expecting, slips out, 'Mmmm,
umm, Albert." He goes, 'Shhh, just lay  with me awhile, Dylan, I wanna
enjoy my living fantasy a little longer. My  arm goes across his stomach and I
snuggle in closer with Ryan's scent filling my  head. His pecs are hard and
as my hand goes lower on his torso the six pack of  tight muscles in his
stomach give me chills. "Your body is soooo hot, Albert,"  and my fingers feel
his pubic hairs damp with the precum I was spreading around.  He quietly
says, "Isn't it nice, the two of us laying together like this?" I go,  "Hmmm, so
nice."


After awhile I  can't resist getting my fist around his big boner and
stroking it twice, all  eight inches and he lifts his hips as precum runs down
the back of my fingers,  so I stroke it again, bring my head down and taking
it in my mouth.  Ryan  groans and squirms a little himself. Awkwardly I get
some of it in my throat but  I'm not in the right position and anyway Ryan
pushes my head away, "I'll cum,  baby. Roll up on your other side." I do that
as he gets on his side and guides  his huge hard penis to my asshole and
humps it in with a thrust of his hips. I  gasp with my shoulders shuddering and
my head bobbing a little like a tremor.  Sensations off my anus make me
moan again and my rectum muscles throb, but it  doesn't really hurt enough to
bother with. His arm comes over my side as he's  pushing his boner up my ass
with Ryan making a long quiet, "Aaaaaah, oooh," and  he tight against my
buttocks humping gently, then a gasp from Ryan. He takes a  deep breath,
murmuring, "Feels so good, babe, mmmm, ooh yeah."


Leaving his  boned-up cock up my ass his hand goes under my chin pulling my
head around so he  can reach my face. He licks the side of my lips, then
does a long wet kiss, "I  love you," he whispers and begins a steady fuck
making quiet, "slap, slap,  slap," and I smelling the back of my hand, my eyes
open wide at the wonderful  way this feels. Slowly steady while hugging me
against him and Ryan kissing or  licking the side of my neck and after every
few deliciously sexy thrusts in a  hush whisper I can barely hear he says, "I
love you, Dylan Newman," and I get in  a different kind of trance than the
submissive kind. I don't know what kind, but  a different one where it's
dreamy to and I get chills, hunching my shoulders at  them and shaking a little
as his marvelous hard boner makes the eight inch  trip back and forth in my
rectum causing such pleasure it's like bliss in the  middle of a fireworks
display. Ryan's mantra of love and the fireworks of sexual  pleasure from
being fucked so well is a condition that should last much longer  than it
does. Nature's a bitch like that, providing ultimate pleasure so  exquisite it
can't be described, but only for a few minutes before I start  going, "Ohh,
ooh, ooh, Albert, ooh, ash, I'm going to cum," then the body  gets stiff and
the sensations of pleasure reach a brilliant phase and my  squeal smothered
by the pillow Ryan holds over my face. My hips hum as I gasp at  the
supernova of climaxes. Moaning and struggling as another string of creamy  semen
flies from my cock, and then whimpers at the pleasure spreading over my
shuddering body. A last desperate tightening of every muscle in my body gets a
nice droll of cum that can't quite make it away and flops down on the inside
of  my thigh. I'm spent, quietly moaning and feeling so good. Ryan  has no
trouble rolling me over and pounding my ass hard, thrusting his cock up my
ass in his desperate last  seconds before lift off and then he's still whining
quietly as he humps against  my buttocks, his boner inside me shooting his
seed into my  bowels again, then an, "Ooooh, ooh," from Ryan as he lays on
my back with  his fast beating heart thumping against me.


I'm so relaxed  now, so contented and now very tired. Ryan rolls off
pulling his softening cock  from my ass with me complaining, "Noo, na, mmm." We
get in each others arms and  kiss, then the sides of our faces slide together
and we do some heavy breathing.  We're both a little damp with perspiration
but it feels good and he smells good.  No talking for awhile then Ryan
kisses the side of my face, murmuring, "I better  get down to my room." I go,
"No, stay with me tonight. My alarm goes off early."  He hesitates, "I
shouldn't, but I will," and we get comfortable. I put my lips  to his ear, "Thank
you, Albert." He nods his head and we go to sleep together.  As I fall asleep
I'm thinking it was nice of Albert to stay the night with  me.


to be continued...    Donny Mumford  thinkat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@outlook.com



========================================================



Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine  published
and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them  for
next to nothing. The books are under 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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