Date: Sat, 3 Dec 2016 00:02:55 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter  18

DYLAN'S  JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE


Chapter 18


by  Donny Mumford


Ryan's sitting on  the edge of his bed waiting for me to lay out the barber
stuff.  He wants me to arrange everything on his desk, and do it the same
way  he insisted I do it in their Georgia garage. I've got  that unmistakable
nervous squirmy feeling in my stomach; the one I  always get before he's
about to give me one of his specialty  haircuts. Unzipping the toiletry kit, I
glance inside and see the  professional barber clippers. Just looking at
those clippers gives me a little  buzz in my nuts. Huh, and I see Ryan's left
a quarter-inch guide  on the clippers, I assume that's from the last time he
 gave Jeff a ridiculously  short haircut. It looks like his short hair
clippings on the guide.  That makes me think of Golden cleaning the clippers
after he gave Robby and  me haircuts last week. He used a little brush
dislodging clinging hair clippings  off the clipper's blades. It's what
Ryan should do after every haircut, but he  doesn't. I never do it either,
although I know I  should.

He'll  have me sit on his desk chair with my shirt off and, if he's true to
form, he'll  smack the back of my head and tell me to sit up straight. He
doesn't abide his  victims sloughing during their haircut. All kinds of
images flicker past my eyes  of the last haircut Ryan gave me. It was like ten
weeks ago now, but I  still get sexy haircut-fetish-sensations sizzling around
my groin  thinking about it. I can almost feel that hard seat I  sat on the
 garage stool. I'd sit there shirtless with good posture as Ryan moved  the
clippers over the top of my head, bearing down on my scalp to  insure the
shortest possible cut. Crazy as it sounds, I'd like  to experience all of it
again today. I know my heart will be hammering  in my chest with scary
anticipation of what's to come, and before he's done my  dick will be hard as
stone. Fucking fetishes,  huh!

Glancing  over at Ryan, I give him a nervous, unsure-of-myself, half grin.
He sits  there arrogantly confident, looking back at me with his patented
stern  expression. Oh man, it's wicked tempting to go through with this. Ryan
isn't aware I'm even contemplating not doing it. He assumes I'll do  it
because he told me to. In my mind I can actually visualize my long  hair
sliding down my bare back and off my shoulders, clumps of long blond  hairs
drifting to the floor while the sound of the clippers doing their job  clatters in
my ears. The very thought of it makes me shudder with my dick  moving in my
boxer shorts. Fucking haircut fetish, indeed...! Fuck it, I'm  not going to!
I've got willpower and free will and, as much as I'd get a  temporary thrill
out of it, I'm not going through with it. His proposal is  kinda sick
actually; it's fucked-up. He's being a bully by basically  blackmailing me into
being his Marietta boy again;  threatening to transfer to another college if
I don't agree to do it. He's being  petulantly about it, acting like a
spoiled kid who, if he can't get his  own way, will takes his ball and go home.
Or in this case, if he can't get  his way he'll take his big dick and
dominant manner to The University  of Georgia.

Zipping  the toiletry kit closed, I say a resounding, "No!" Ryan's head
snaps up, "No,  what?" I look right back at him, and calmly say, "No, to your
blackmail. If  the only way we can be friends and sex-buddies is you doing
that  ridiculous haircut on me every week, then I'm saying 'no' to everything
between  us. I'm sorry, but there's something seriously wrong with a
relationship  like that." He looks shocked, "You mean, um... what are you saying?"

Putting the  toiletry kit snugly under my arm, I quietly say, "You're not
acting like  the friend I used to know. You're acting like an insecure bully
who's badgering  me about an absurd haircut. You're insisting I  knuckle
under and become Danny in Marietta again. And by the way, you should have been
 on my side when your mother said my name was goofy, or whatever her reason
was  for not calling me Dylan." He stands up and points at me, shouting,
"You  told her your middle name was Daniel." I wave my hand at him, like:
that's not  the point, saying, "I don't even have a middle name. You should have
 insisted your mother call me by my real name. You promised to look out for
me  when I was living with you. It was awkward enough for me as it was. Um,
but  never mind all that now, it's the way you've been acting since you got
 here that bothers me." With a noticeable lack of bravado now, he focuses
on  the least important part of what I just said, mutterings, "That  haircut
isn't absurd. It's proudly worn by gung-ho Marines, Special Forces  guys,
and others in the military." I look blankly at him for a few seconds, and  he
finally whines, "Well, it is... you know that."

Shaking  my head, I'm like, "That has nothing to do with anything, Ryan!"

He says,  "Yes it does!  And  why this abrupt change of heart? What's gotten
into you?" I  say, "I've  overcome the need for fetish relief. I've come to
my senses in the nick of  time. This whole discussion has been stupid! I mean
..." he interrupts, "We just  finished talking everything out, and it wasn't
stupid then. We both  agreed on what to do moving forward. We had an
agreement." Shaking my head  again, "No we didn't! We didn't have an agreement .

You stated how you wanted things to be, and then assumed it was settled;
settled simply because you said it was. Look Ryan, forget all that. You're  my
friend; a close friend. There's  no reason why you should feel it's
necessary to dominate me by doing that  haircut. When I was living with you it could
be partially rationalized as a  case of me living with you, so your rules
apply. But that was then,  and this is now." He mutters, "Yeah, but you're
still you, and I'm still  me."

He's  not willing to acknowledge the obvious, so I go, "C'mon, Ryan, you
know damn  well that haircut only makes a tiny bit of sense if I'm okay with
it,and  at the moment I'm not okay with it. I like having hair." He says,
"Have you  forgotten I was giving you that haircut here at college last
spring.  You didn't care about hair then, but now all of a sudden you do?"

Exhaling  noisily, I mumble, "Those haircuts last spring were  like buzz cuts. The
Marietta haircuts you gave me were buzz cuts on  steroids." Frowning he
mumbles, "Yeah, well you liked it a lot while I was  doing the haircuts, and
you never refused them." Seeing that he's lost all  his bravado now, and he's
hanging his head, I feel a little  bit bad for him, so I say, "Hey, I'm not
saying I'll never get your  haircut, Ryan. Maybe I'll get tired of having
hair, but as of today I still  like combing hair on my fucking head. Anyway,
friendships never depend on  ultimatums." He goes, "Well fuck you then." I'm
like, "Yeah well, that's too  easy of an out, Ryan. What's wrong with you
anyhow?" He goes, "Nothing's wrong  with me. I merely thought it'd be a good
idea for both of us to enjoy a little  of the good life we had back home.

Back home where I fulfilled a fantasy  life for you, the one you'd described to
me a year and a half ago. I  thought you'd appreciate my offer to continue
part of it here at college." I go,  "Oh yeah? To that rationalized logic,
the words,  'total  bullshit' occurs  to me," and he shrugs, trying not to
chuckle.

I'm  still leaning against the door and he's still sitting on the edge of
his bed,  his feet hanging over. Neither of us says anything for a long
twenty seconds,  while I'm realizing I don't really want to leave, so to get us
talking  again, I say, "Ryan, you said the word fantasy a minute ago, and
that's mostly what I was talking about a year and a half ago; a  fantasy, not
reality. We both know the difference." He's slowly shaking his  head,
frowning this time, so I add, "Look, I totally agree that it was a  great time in
your hometown, but in the end I was missing Rob too much. I'm in  love with
him. Deeply in love with him, but that doesn't exclude me from you  being a
close friend. Close friends are more precious than gold. You should know
that. You didn't have any friends in Marietta. Not until I helped you make
some." Then to lighten-up that rather harsh comment, I go, "And imagine my
surprise when some of those guys liked you more than me. Your  boy, Jeff,
comes to mind. I never understood why that  fucking hick was into you when I was
available." He frowns, "Hey, what the  fuck... hick?" I say, "Where's your
sense of humor? You know, like you  mentioned me not having one ten minutes
ago?" He nods his head, mumbling,  "Touché." I go, "I'm not denying the things
you said about your specialty  haircuts; they were explosively hot for my
fetish. And you're right again that I  bitched about them, but never said
'no' to you. That's only a  very small part of you and me though. The freshman
year stuff you talked  about didn't have a haircut element to it anyway, so
that's a bad example. Do  you know what I'm saying?" He goes, "Yes, you're
telling me good luck at The  University of Georgia."  Shaking my head slowly,
I open the door, saying, "Fuck this! If you ever want to  talk seriously
about things, with a good friend, text me. I'll be there for you  when you're
ready to get your head out of your  ass."

Before I close the door behind me, he says, "Come back,  Dylan! Please
don't go." Standing in the open doorway, I look at him, and he  goes, "Okay, if
you know so much, can you explain to me where I'm  wrong in my thinking? And
by the way, I might contend that your weight  in gold could very well be
more precious than friendship." I step back inside,  muttering, "That's an
attempt at humor, I assume." He shrugs and sort of grins,  "Partially an
attempt at humor, yeah." Leaning against the door again, I'm like,  "So, you wanna
be friends now?" He nods his head, "Yeah I do, but I really am
transferring to that Georgia  University. All  the necessary paperwork's been filed." I
go, "Didn't one of your parents go  here, and aren't they pissed you're
leaving?" He goes, "Whatever gave you that  idea?" I'm like, "I thought that's
what you told me. I don't remember when it  was, but I could swear I heard
you say that." He shrugs, like it's not important  one way or the other.

He  goes, "I can't transfer until the end of the semester. I need these
credits, so I'll be here for the semester final exams. I guess you're  stuck
with me until the middle of December." Nodding my head, I'm like, "Oh, so
you knew you were transferring, haircut or no haircut. You misrepresented
yourself thinking it'd be cool, from your perspective, to leave  behind your
Marietta haircut on my head as a farewell gesture. Is  that it?" He mumbles,
"Well,  we both could  have ten weeks of enjoying my haircuts. Sure, you
hated on the haircuts, but  groveled in your fetish while I was giving you the
haircut, and I liked  giving them to you and seeing your reaction. It's a
win/win  situation." Glancing down at the toiletry kit under my arm, I get a
shiver  thinking how hot that would be, then say, "Whatever. I'm not getting
your  haircut. And, not to belabor the point, but your proposal was  totally
bogus. You inferred you wouldn't transfer if I went along with the  haircut.

It's surprises and disappoints me you'd bald-face lie to  me like that." He
smirks, "Yeah, it was a little sick of me, wasn't  it? I was feeling
desperate  to spend some Marietta time with you before I go. I'm in pain being
this close  to you without being in charge of you anymore; that's true as true
can be." I  go, "Have you considered getting over yourself?" He mutters,
"Fuck  you,  with that getting over myself." I shrug, "Just  saying..."

Ryan adds, in a wistful manner, "Me being your boss at work, and  then all
the other times too was the best two months I've ever lived, or  probably
ever will." Well, that's extremely sad!  So to pump him up a  little, I say,
"Well yeah, it was a quite an experience for me too, and the  most different
thing I've ever done." Then I throw in a lie, "Most of the  thanks go to you
for making it work so well." He seems mystified, asking, "How  can you be
so fucking magnanimous about everything?" I shrug, "I'm not  burdened with
some massive ego, and before you take that the wrong way, I don't  think you
have a massive ego either. And you will have better times than those  two
months I was with you, so don't pull that sad-sack shit on me; trying to  make
me feel guilty."

He  goes, "I give up! You're making too much sense for me to argue with you
 further, so I'm done trying. Come over and sit with me, Dylan. Don't just
stand there like you're running out the door any second." I chuckle,
"You're  as persistent as ever I see." He mumbles, "I'm a world class nagger...

just  ask Stevie." I ask, "Does your roommate know you're transferring?" He
shakes his  head, "No, not yet. C'mon over here, we're friends again. I won't
bite  you." Damn, he's asking  instead  of ordering. That's  a step in the
right direction for him, and it couldn't have been an  easy thing for him to
do. He finds it difficult asking me to 'please' do  anything. He likes
telling me what to do. And now that he's given up on his  haircut plans, maybe we
can work out common grounds. Jeez though, it's hard to  believe these are
the last ten weeks he'll be here. We really  should make the best of it. I
can't visualize Ryan being gone for good and us  never seeing each other again...

 wow.  Could that actually  happen?
Ryan's doing  that come-here motion with his fingers now, grinning at me
and nodding his head  encouragingly. Shaking my head slowly and making a face
at him, I mutter, "You  nut," and walk over to the bed. He pats the bed, so
I sit  on  the edge. He pats the bed closer to him making me chuckle while
scooting over right next to him. He asks, "Friends?" holding out his hand.

We  shake hands, and just his touch makes me shiver slightly. He holds my
hand after  we shake, grinning at me and looking me in the eyes. I can  still
picture him with those little round out-of-date glasses he wore  when we met.

His middle finger pushing the sliding glasses up his cute nose. He  did it
every couple of minutes, probably not even aware he was doing it. He has
the prettiest eyes and narrow eyebrows that mother nature was kind enough  to
give him. I've never understood why more guys didn't find him as attractive
and sexually hot as I do. Then there's Jeff, who feels about Ryan like me,
finally someone agrees with me.

I'm  beginning to feel his sexual heat being this close to him. He asks,
"What are  you thinking about?" I mumble, "You and your out-of-date Harry
Potter glasses  that were always sliding  down your nose." He nods his head,
"Thinking about me, huh?" I go, "Well, I'm  right next to you, and you're
holding my hand, so it's not all that odd I'd be  thinking something about you.

Your old eyeglasses came to  mind." He puts his arm around the back of my
neck, pulling my head  over, asking, "Can I give you a kiss?" I nod, and  he
gives  me one of those special kisses of his that always get me hot. I'm not
even sure why they get me so hot and aroused, they just do. My mouth opens
for him and his perfect, somehow almost cool tongue slides against my tongue
 feeling sexy as his lips suck on mine. It's all so familiar and arousing
as both my arms, almost on their own, go around the back  of his neck. The
kiss lasts maybe a minute with us swapping spit, licking  and sucking on each
other's mouth. It's more like making-out than giving me a  kiss. It soon
brings on a boner that's poking out the lap of my  pants.

Our  lips make a wet sexy sound when he moves his head back slightly,
asking,  "How was that, baby?" My face feels hot, his scent is in my head and I
can't catch my breath, plus I have this feeling I might cum. When I don't
reply  to his question, he goes, "You don't need to tell me, I can see how
aroused you  are." Ryan's really the only side-sex partner who I make-out with
in any kind of  serious way. Most side-sex partners don't kiss at all.

Making out with Ryan  though; well, he's a world class make-out as far as I'm
concerned. I take a deep  breath and he smiles knowingly, then rubs noses with
me. His scent  is swarming around in my head and it's both fantastic and
scary being  this attracted to him. Past experience tells me I could easily
fall under the  power he somehow holds over me. Right now, for example, I don't
want  to back away from him, or take my arms from around his neck. As I
look  into his eyes he says, in his murmuring, hypnotic voice,  "I'm  truly
sorry for trying to deceive you, Dylan. From my heart I ask you to  please
forgive  me." I do a slight nod of my head and he goes, "C'mon, why don't  you
lie your  head on my shoulder. I know you'd like to, and we can at least
still enjoy  each other with a kiss and a hug, right?" He's just as aware of his
hold on  me, as I am.

Wanting  to enjoy our truce, my head lays on his shoulder, his whiskers
tickling my  forehead. He hypnotically murmurs, "This is much nicer than
arguing, isn't it?  We're special when we're together because you're special." He
rubs up and down the back of my head, ruffling my hair, saying, "I lied
about your hair too. It's awesome hair and you look fantastic." He gives me a
really tight hug this time, then puts his finger under my chin lifting my
head  and our lips meet again for another kiss exchanging lots of saliva this
time, so  much so it's running down our chins. My boner is pounding in my
pants. The way we're sitting, half turned toward each other my boner is
doing it's throbbing against Ryan's leg. It's nothing new to him because,  like
I just said, he knows the effect he has on me. And again I  fear I'll cum
any second now. I haven't gotten this easily arousal, purely  for sex
purposes, since my days with Ryan in Georgia. The easy way I fell right  back into
my feelings for him when he was my boss of everything surprises me,  but
Ryan's sexual heat can be intoxicating to me. He called me back knowing  if I
gave him half a chance he could have his way, and I'd let  him take our sex
as far as he wanted to go with it. That's how it's always  been with us. No
matter what, in the end Ryan's in charge. It's all about the  sex though,
I've never been in  love with  him, and never could fall in love with him. The
sex though, that's an entirely  different story, and we both know it.

His right hand unbuttons my pants, as he says,  "Lift your  ass, Dylan." I
do that and he works my pants down to my calves, then I kick them  off
entirely. They lay on the floor as Ryan slides me off the bed,  saying, "Get
between my legs and take my big cock out." Naked from my waist  down, my knees
on the floor between his legs, I'm fumbling his zipper down,  anxious to suck
his big bad boy again. He helps by unbuttoning his jeans  and fully opening
the fly. Using two fingers I reach in his  underpants and pull his firm
cock out through the slit in front of his  jockey shorts, then pull out his big
hairy balls. Looking at his  privates, my eyes get as big as Pony's eyes
got when he looked at my  cock. Actually it's funny how my status with Ryan is
like Pony's status with me.  Pony and I are submissive underlings; him to
me, and me to Ryan.  Lifting Ryan's big cock I'm always surprised at the
weight of it. I stroke  it a few times staring at the gaping big piss slit, then
take the head in  my mouth and it's a mouthful alright. After giving it an
initial bath with my  tongue, covering it with warm saliva, I the stick the
tip of my tongue  in his gaping piss slit. Ryan goes, "Ahh," and squirms a
little on the bed. I  close my eyes and suck on the big bulbous head of his
penis while  inhaling the strong scent from his crotch. Oooh God, this is so
fucking hot! My cock somehow gets harder as I suck and tongue the  large
head while Ryan coos encouraging word, "Good boy, that feels good, baby.  You
haven't lost it." My own boned-up cock is tightly up against my  belly,
under my shirt, drooling precum as it throbs pleasantly. I don't  dare touch it
or I'd cum immediately, plus I'd get a smack on my head from Ryan.  He
trained me in Georgia to wait for him to fuck an orgasm out of  me.

Taking  more of his cock in my mouth, my tongue bathing it with warm
saliva, Ryan's  pulls on a fistful of my hair, murmuring, "Nice, baby, suck that
bad-boy  cock of mine. You love doing it and it shows." Mostly I hear a
hypnotic quiet  chant more than the words he's saying, but it's all smoking hot
to me. This  is major-league sex as compared to the messing around Pony and I
have been  doing. In two minutes Ryan's penis has been transformed into a
really  hard intimidating boner, but only the top three inches can fit in my
mouth.  I know Ryan won't let that situation last very long. Sure enough, he
slides off  the edge of the bed and, with a fistful of my bangs, roughly
jerks my  head back and, of course, forces his long fat   cock down my throat.

The huge head bulging out my Adam's apple. His pubic  hairs are all around
my mouth,;  my nose is buried in them, squished against his belly. Still
holding a  fistful of my front hairs he pushes my head further back and pulls
his boner out  of my throat as precum coats my tongue. There's no talking
now, just heavy  breathing from Ryan, gasping breaths as he pushes his cock
back down my  throat and humps his crotch against my face a few times. It has
me gagging as a  submissive trance totally envelopes me now and my throat
muscles completely  relax... I drift off the ground, anchored by Ryan's hard
throbbing boner in  my throat. My docile body language announces to Ryan he's
put me into a  dreamy sexually submissive trance and he murmurs, "Good boy,"

and pats my cheek,  then pulls his cock completely out of my throat and
mouth. I sit back on my  ankles staring up at Ryan, waiting to be told what he
wants me to  do next.

Ryan  sits back down on the edge of the bed nodding his head  slightly,;
satisfied everything is going the way it's supposed to between him and me.

He motions for me to get up, so I stand and he goes, "Lean over, Dylan, let
me have a taste." I lean my head down and our lips meet. His tongue slides
around in my mouth and when he pulls it out there a string of precum  and
saliva attached to my lips and his pink, clean-looking tongue. He grins  at
me, his perfect white teeth sparkling, and I suck on his tongue, cleaning off
the goo. Patting my head, he remains sitting on the edge of the bed,
telling me, "Good, boy. Now get up here on the bed, a knee on either side  of
me." I do that with his arms around me keeping me from falling backwards.

"Lift your ass," and I do that with my arms going around the back of his neck
again, for support this time. Lifting my ass, my chest  against  his, and the
sides of our faces together, I go, "Mmmm," feeing good, feeling  taken care
of.

It's  nice Ryan and I are like this again. He guides the head of his big
boner to  my asshole and tells me, "I want you to go all the way down on it.

Do it now,  Dylan." I lower my ass and grimace as the bulbous hard head
severely  stretches the lips of my anus, then the head struggles past my
sphincter  muscle, forcing its way  up my rectum stretching it painfully, inch by
inch. He says, "I told you  go all the way down, Dylan, and I mean do it
quickly!" I drop my  ass,;  my forehead goes on his shoulder with me  groaning at
the  pain and pleasure. Tears roll down my cheeks as I sit painfully on his
lap,  his huge engorged boner impaling me. Some of his precum helped, but
it's  was an incredibly tight fast ride down his big wood pole without
letting my  rectum relax even for a seconds. New sections of my rectum, eight
inches of it,  were forced reluctantly to spread wider than normal,
accommodating this  huge intrusion. I'm biting my bottom lip to keep from crying out, my
arms  squeezing around Ryan's neck. He can feel my tears on his cheek, so
he murmurs,  "Yes, it hurts a little, and you've still got a bit more to go,"

as he uses  his hands to put pressure on the top of my thighs to gets me
tightly on his lap.  I feel the hard head of that huge cock slide up another
quarter inch inside me.  Hugging him tighter I savor the compliment when he
says, "Awesome job, baby!"  The praise brings a smile to my face even as the
pain continues spiking inside  me; then a streak of  pure sexual pleasure
makes me gasp, but the pleasure streak is  quickly dominated by pain again. He
says, "Ignore the pain,  boy. Wiggle that cute ass of yours." I wiggle my
ass on his lap, whining,  "It really hurts, Ryan." He goes, "Stop your
bitching! You like it rough and  it'll start feeling good soon enough," and for
emphasis he swaps the back  of my head, saying, "No whining!" I slide deeper
into the dreamy submissive  trance I'm in.

The  pain's already letting up helped along by the way Ryan's maintaining
his dominant role of being in-charge of me. It's so awesome I  try snuggling
tighter again him. He murmurs, "I know, I know. You love  this. I've been
trying to tell you that for the last hour." I nod my head  slightly, not
wanting to speak for fear I'll lose some of the submissiveness I'm  feeling.

Ryan murmurs, "Go ahead, wiggle your ass some more, baby, feel my big  organ
inside you." I wiggle on his lap  and he chuckles, "Feels good, doesn't it?" I
murmur, "Uh huh," and he  rubs my back, "You smell so good, Dylan, and your
ass is like no other. Are  you ready to get fucked?" I nod my head, the
side of my face rubbing against his  scant beard that feels sexy to me. Turning
his head he kisses my cheek,  then says, "I saw when you slipped into
submission to me, and I almost shot my  load down your throat. Doesn't all this
feel right? The two of us right where we  belong" I nod my head again, still
not wanting to speak. I'm in the most  wonderful submissive trance. It's so
peaceful, and the sexual pleasure now  surrounding my full rectum is hard to
describe. I shudder against him as I  feel his huge boner expand inside me.

Throbs of pleasure from millions of  nerve endings stimulated by Ryan's
smooth log of a boner. He knows how  to bring on the sexual pleasure in me. I
snuggle submissively against him,  moaning, "Mmm, it feels so good, Ryan,"

and move my body against his tight  muscular torso, then rub my nose in the
whiskers on his cheek under his ear. He  smells sexy good!!
Ryan gets a hand on my biceps pushing me away from him about a foot,
saying, "Now you're gonna ride my big pole. Put your hands on my  shoulders and
lift your hips." I do that as sensations explode in my rectum  making me
shudder with pleasure as my forehead drops to Ryan's. He says, "Sit up
straight!" so I do, the memory of the pain going down on his boner long  forgotten,
like it never even happened. Keeping my back straight I'm  lifting up on my
knees, inch by inch until I feel the large swollen head  distending the lips
of my asshole. Pulling up until the head is just about to  pop out of my
ass, the nerve ending surrounding my anus' lips sizzling with  pleasure
vibrations. Waiting a few seconds, then sitting all the way back  down on his
pulsating boner with my shouldered shuddering  uncontrollably. Flat on his lap,
I moan, "Ooooh, oooh, Ryan, ooh." He grins  and kisses me on the lips, then
says, "Get in a good rhythm now, baby. Ride that  thing fast and hard."

Looking into his blue eyes, I'm serious when I warn him, "I'll cum  all
over you, Ryan." He goes, "Good, be my guest, I don't care. Now do what  you're
told!" I start lifting up on my knees and sitting back down all the way  to
his lap, lifting up and sitting down, and again and again without the
familiar "Slap' sound when my bare ass hits his lap, That's because he  never
pulled his pants down. Lift and sit, lift and sit with so many  pleasure
sensations bombarding my brain I'm constantly moaning , my cock a piece  of
granite sticking straight out. Every time I lift up and sit  down one side of the
open zipper scrapes the inside of my thigh  and I couldn't care less.

I know this won't last nearly as long as I wish it would. The  pleasure
sensations from my prostate are constant and almost too intense to  bear, while
the lips of my anus sizzle from the millions of nerve endings there.  I'm
moaning, "Ooh," every time I drop down and, "Mmmm ooh," every time I lift
up. My body is constantly shuddering with pleasure. Ryan's head is back and he
 grunts quietly, "Aaah, aaah, oh my God, aaah." It only last maybe three
minutes,  and I'm shocked I could hold off my orgasm that long. My climax
comes roaring on  me as violent as a cyclone. My boner's sticking straight out
as I  squeal and I gets erratic and out of rhythm riding his pole. Then my
hips hump forward, cum pouring straight out from my boner. It's a short  trip
splattering on Ryan's shirt feeling so sensational I hold my breath,  my
eyes tightly closed, and I can't even breath as I'm shaking from another
swift stream of cum flying out of my granite cock and splattering a  little
higher on Ryan shirt, about tits high. Gasping for air I'm sitting on his  legs
now, fully impaled, tightening every muscle in my body squeezing out more
pure pleasurable drools of cum that lazily slide off to drip to the bottom
of Ryan's shirt. My orgasm is finally finished, and I collapse  forward
against Ryan, weak and limp, moaning and sighing, just laying on  him, too weak
to hug him.

He  says. "Well that was something to see." With my cum drooling down the
front  of his shirt, he lifts me off his cock, his bicep muscles bulging, as
he says,  "Get on your knees with your chest lying on the bed next to me."

I'm spent  and not comprehending anything at the moment. Doing what he says
is easier  than trying to understand it, so I drop off the edge of the bed to
my  knees, hardly knowing where I am, still in the grasp of  orgasm
after-effects that buzz around my groin, and there's sparkling  pleasant tiny
electric shocks all up and down eight inches of my rectum. I  shudder again, then
sigh. That was so fucking  hot!!
Ryan  gets off the bed and, standing behind me, he puts a hand on the back
of my  head pushing my face against the mattress as a light goes off in my
dimwitted  brain: oh, Ryan didn't climax yet. He says, "Lift that ass of
yours, baby,"  and he gives it a hard, "SMACK!" for emphasis. I yelp, and get
four  more hard ass smacks. "SMACK!SMACK!SMACK!SMACK!" sounds rings out in the
 room as I squirm on the bed, my buttocks on fire. It deepens my submissive
sense  but I know enough to lift my ass, avoiding a longer spanking.

Lifting  it and pushing it  way out  for him, he mutters, "Good," and mounts me
with one hard thrust of his big  log of a cock. With eight inches of lumber up
my ass, Ryan grinds against  my buttocks for a few seconds relighting all
those nerve endings inside me, then  he fucks me harder than I've ever fucked
Pony. My body bounces on the  mattress as that huge hard boner plows back
and forth in my ass, his crotch  slamming into my buttocks. It takes another
two minutes, just as I'm  feeling my cock tightening up again, before Ryan
grunts, "I'm gonna cum."  His crotch now tightly against my buttocks humping
against them and  shooting a large creamy load of cum into my bowels. I felt
the first big load  hit off the walls of my rectum, seemingly way up inside
me. He humps against me  a few more times before groaning, then sighing and
 lying on  my back for thirty seconds. Sighing again, he lifts off me,
mumbling,  "Fucking fantastic. Jesus, I've missed you and your miracle  ass."

He  takes a deep breath, then pulls his cock from my ass, exclaiming, "Holy
shit, I  really got you opened up back here! Heh heh, I could stick an
apple up that  opening." The cooler air of the room drifts up my 98.6 degree
wide  open rectum, feeling weird. Ryan takes a couple of steps over to his
dirty clothes basket and grabs a t-shirt off the top of the pile, and holds it
to my ass. "Dylan, keep this on you asshole to absorb all the cum I just
poured  into you." My hand goes back pressing the shirt  to  my ass, which
also blocks the cooler air from my rectum. I sense the gaping  openness of my
asshole back there. It will take quite a while to close  back to normal.

With  another deep breath, Ryan sits on the edge of the bed again, saying,
"You're not  done yet, boy. Get over here, between my legs," and he pats the
edge of the  bed near his softening  big penis, sloppy with cum. Sliding my
chest off the bed, still holding his  t-shirt against my ass, I walk
sideways on my knees, and get between  his legs. I do it without giving it a
thought as my trance begins to fade.  Picking his cock up in my fingers, I put it
right in my mouth and begin sucking  and licking it clean. It takes longer
then our fuck, but when it's  eventually shiny clean, and shiny with my
saliva, Ryan asks, "You about  done?" I nod and give his balls a couple of licks
until Ryan says, "That's  enough. Stand up and pull my t-shirt off. It's
got a lot of your  once creamy cum on it, cum that's turned into a clear goo."

I stand,  my cock still fairly firm from sucking cock. Ryan puts his arms
up, so I  drop the t-shirt from my ass on the floor and pull the shirt over
his head,  then drop it on the floor next to the cum saturated t-shirt. Ryan
shoots me  a hard look and I quickly pick up both shirts and drop them on
top of  his dirty clothes basket.

Back  in front of Ryan, wondering what's next, I can't help reaching over
to rub my fingers through his chest hairs. He only has chest hairs  between
his pecs, but he's still a sexy macho guy. Still partially  maintaining his
dominant role, he says, "Sit next to me, Dylan. Lets talk  some more." I'm
still feeling lingering submissive vibes, but nothing like I  felt during the
sexual heat earlier with his boner in my  throat. That  trance continued
when I was basically fucking myself riding his hard  thick long pole. Then the
hard fucking he laid on me at the end, it all makes me  shudder with
pleasure all over again. Sitting next to him, probably too  closely because I'm
still in a slightly submissive trance,  and mightily impressed with Ryan's
confident dominance. His arm goes  across my shoulders, as he says, "Well, you
were right. We did the buddy sub/dom  sex as hot as ever, and without
needing to do your haircut first. I'm still  gonna do the haircut though, so
whaddaya think about that?" Before I can answer  this startling news, he adds,"

You got to experience that awesome deep  submissive sense you crave, and so
what if we do this in reverse. First I  gave you a hard fucking and now you
can get to savor your haircut fetish. Fair  is fair. I did my part."

It takes me two seconds to comprehend what he means, and then it's  like:
Can I believe the fucking nerve of this guy? His cheesy  attempt to go ahead
with my haircut claiming it's only fair because we had tough  sex together.

As if he did the tough sex for my benefit alone and he didn't get  just as
much out of it as me. That puts a humongous damper on an  otherwise excellent
experience. It also makes the remainder of my  submissive trance ping away,
just like that...  ping!
Sitting  up straight, then moving over away from him; Ryan's arm slides off
my  shoulders. With a look of incredulousness on my face, I stare at him a
second.  He half grins, asking, "What...?" I go, "We're way past that, Ryan!
We passed  the fuckin' haircut discussion forty minutes ago." He grins
broadly now,  "Well, you know I'm a tenacious nagger. What'd I have to lose by
moving ahead  with the haircut? You might have gone along with it." I go, "What
do you have to  lose? Really? You can lose my trust for one thing." He
says, "Hey, I was  sort of asking you. That's all I did... ask."  I'm still
staring at him, so he shrugs, saying, "Can I interpret your  reaction as a no-go
on the haircut?" I snort out a laugh, completely over the  submissive part
of the day. "Yes, you can interpret my reaction as a firm, NO!"   He shrugs,
"Maybe some other time then? I really like giving those  fucking haircuts!"

I'm shaking my head, "Yeah, I guess you do. I like  giving haircuts too,
but I prefer giving haircuts that guys want." He says,  "Yeah, but I've only
got the one talent for haircutting." I'm being serious when  I say, "It's a
helluva talent too, if  you'd use it correctly. I can't do fade  haircuts as
good as you do them. I've given guys that haircut recently, because they
asked  for it, but they didn't turn out as good as yours. Of course, then you
fuck it  up by cutting all the other hair off Timmy's, Jeff's, and my  head,
which isn't the way it's supposed to be done." He says, "I don't know
about any of that. You're the guy with the haircut fetish and all the knowledge
about haircuts."

He  gets off the bed, picks up my underwear and pants, handing them to me,
saying,  "Well I enjoyed the hell out of our sex. It was twice as good as
the sex we had  when I first got here, and that was twice as good as any sex
I've had since you  left Georgia, so that'll tell you something." Putting on
my underpants,  I'm saying, "Thanks for the compliment, and here's one right
back at you.  When you say you get me hotter sexually than anyone else,
you're right. You know  every single button to push getting me groveling in
your dominance." He  mutters, "Thanks," then adds,  "For all the good it does
me, you still choose him." I go, "We're way the fuck  past that discussion
too." He nods his head, "I know, I know  already."

As  I'm buttoning my pants, the door opens and Steve walk in, saying,
"Smells like  guy-sex in here." Ryan goes, "Really? I can't imagine why," and
Steve goes,  "Well it's obvious though, isn't it? I mean, I'm looking at the
faces on  you guys and both of your expressions look contented. Should I read
anything into that?" I go, "Yes, read into it that you're lucky you didn't
pop  in here fifteen minutes ago. It would probably have scarred you  for
life." He laughs, "Yeah, probably," then to Ryan, "What  time we  leaving for
Boston?" Ryan says, "Felix works until two, so we'll probably leave  around
two-thirty. Is that good for you?" He nods, "Yeah, did you ask Dylan to
join us?" Ryan musses my hair, hair that thanks to me is still  attached to my
head, as he tells Steve, "Yes, I invited him, but  naturally he has other
plans." I pick up my hat and, after finger-combing  my hair, put the hat on,
saying, "Thanks, Ryan," without elaborating. We  smirk at each other, pretty
much understanding each other's position on  things. I'm leaving, so Steve
asks, "Should I close my eyes?" Ryan  says, "No need to," then puts his hand
behind my head, pulling it down a little  so he can give me a wet kiss on my
mouth. The kiss lingers for a second or  two as a shiver streaks up my
spine, and again, I  think, 'Why  am I so attracted to him?' Wiping  Ryan's
saliva off my lips, I tell them, "Have fun bar-hopping in Boston."  Pointing at
Ryan I go, "I'll be texting you, boss," and he goes, "That's my  boy." I
bump fist with Steve as I pass him on my way out the  door.

Going  down the steps I'm having mixed emotions. I admit the first thing I
think  about is how great that sub/dom sex with Ryan was. No one can compare
with  him in that department. I felt fantastic in my stupid submissive
trance, but  there's no sense of joy or a feeling like something special
happened  afterwards. Totally different than after  sex with Rob. I know something
special was shared between us. With Ryan it's  lust pure and simple. Sure I
enjoyed slumming it in my dreamy  submissive trance again. Sexual sensations
by the millions provided me  intense momentary pleasure. Then I have this
nagging feeling that maybe I'm  not so sorry he's transferring out of
Merrimack. I know I'm disappointment  at the devious and untruthful manner in which
he tried a number of times to talk  me into getting his ridiculously-short
Marietta  haircut!
Yeah,  and the fucking nerve of him already having filed the paperwork for
his  transfer, yet insinuating if I got the stupid weekly haircut from him
he  wouldn't transfer. So that was his initial lie. And then he wasn't
especially contrite admitting the truth of the matter; it was a joke to him more
than anything else. He gets a few points for admitting it at all,  although
claiming he was merely being persistent, just his  normal nagging
personality. I call it deceitful and underhanded. On the  plus side he called me back
when I was leaving, which for him couldn't have been  easy. The other
thing, on the plus side, is he didn't take advantage when I was  deeply in a
submissive trance. He could have told me to get the barber stuff and  I wouldn't
have been able to refuse; not in that state of mind  anyway. That's where
my trust in him comes from.

Stepping outside the dormitory I realize I left the toiletry kit on  Ryan's
desk again. Fuck! Yeah, but that was a pretty smooth exit I had there, so
I'll leave it at that and get the toiletry kit another time. Taking in a big
 lungful of cool air, I'm feeling okay. My ass hurts, but just enough that
I  know I've been fucked hard and rough. Dammit though, why is Ryan's
sexual attractiveness there for me as strong as ever? Yeah, but I  don't expect
I'll have the urge to experience it again with Ryan for probably a  week or
so. That may be problematic for him, but it's how I feel right now  because
it doesn't have the grip on me, frequency-wise, that it used to. Robby's  sex
is the sex that has a grip on me now. I'm addicted to Robby, and  addicted
to his sex with me. I'm pretty much thrilled with that development  too.

Ah  yes, life is pretty good! Taking off my hat, I run my fingers through
my hair and smile. I'm such an ass!  Because of my fetish I actually gave a
fleeting thought to getting  another of Ryan's Marietta haircuts. It was
enticing to flirt with my haircut  fetish, but obviously I made the right
choice this time. Our lives are full  of choices, and the ones we make we've
gotta own. I'm glad to own this one.  Okay, it's getting close to lunchtime and
I'm stranded on campus. Or am I?  Taking out my cellphone I text Robby,
'Hey, where  are you, Rob?'  and a minute later he texts back, " `I'm  at the
Mall with Frankie. She needed a ride, and now she's buying me lunch.  I
thought you'd be with Ryan all  afternoon.' He's  with Frankie? Just the two of
them? I text back, 'What  made you think that? I'll see you when you get
back.' Huh,  I guess if he were with a ballplayer having lunch I wouldn't think
twice  about it, but since Frankie's a girl I do think twice about it.

That's  kinda dumb of me though because Rob's more likely to have sex with a
random  ballplayer than he is with Frankie. I might as well get used to Frankie
being around because she's apparently intent on it. She's okay; all three
of the girls are okay. I can live with it, and it's probably doing me some
good,  social-skills-wise, I mean.

I text Chubby asking  what he's doing and he text right back saying he,
John Beverly, and someone  named, Kicks, are at Rockingham Park betting on
simulcast races  from around the country. I wouldn't want to do that, but when
the live  racing season for Rockingham Park is happening I'd like to go and
bet on some  horses. My handicapping method is simple. I search for a
meaningful horse's  name in each race, and bet on that horse. I won thirty-six
dollars on a  long shot last year at the track with Chub and a guy who was in
his junior year. Somebody Chubby knew. You need to be twenty-one to place a
bet,  which is where the kid in his junior year was helpful. Naturally I
couldn't tell  you the kid's name if you put a gun to my head. I'm not good with
names. Anyway,  I won the race betting on a horse called, 'Buckin' Dee'.

Dee is my mom's  name, so betting on that horse was a no-brainer. I lost on a
horse called, 'Dillon's Favorite'. Should have known better with the
fucked-up spelling of my name. Anyway, betting at the track is fun, and this
year I can place my own bets. That being said, Chubby's not available  today.

Okay,  with no better idea, I'm going to see if anyone I know is in the
Quad.  Walking there my cellphone rings with caller  ID showing, Sam Styles.

Who? I answer and the guy asks if I'm giving free  haircuts today. I'm like,
"Um, who gave you this number?" He goes, "My bud,  Steve Church," and I
remember telling Steve how I like giving haircuts.  Dammit! I'm like, "Gee, this
is awkward, but I only do haircuts for guys I,  um, know. Ya know?" He goes,
"I know Steve and he highly recommended you.  Especially the free part,"

and he chuckles. Jesus, the balls on this guy!!  I go, "No offense, but I'm
not feeling free  haircuts right now. Have Steve introduce us sometime and
maybe I can help  you out. I'm pretty busy,;  ya know how it is..." He goes,
"Yeah sure. Um, just curious, what are you busy  with right now?" I hit 'END'.

The nerve of some people! Then I look around.  Maybe this guy, Sam, is
looking at me right now. I need to text Steve and tell  him not to offer my free
haircuts to anybody else. Then I feel bad. Steve's  a good guy and he might
think I'm an asshole hanging up on his friend, Sam.  Well, the guys number
is right here on my cellphone, so I call him  back. Sam goes, "We got cut
off," and I say, "I thought you hung up on me. Um,  you know, actually I'm not
doing anything important right now, and since  Steve's a friend of yours,
sure I'll give you a haircut. Do you have a car?" He  says, "Yeah. Ya know, I
was in the process of calling you back when  you called me. Heh heh, one
minute I was talking to  you, then  nothing. Anyway, can I pick you up
somewhere?" This blows, but I go, "Yeah,  I'll be outside the Quad," and he says,
"Thanks, I'll be right over." Okay, at  least I got a ride back to the
apartment. Fine something positive in  everything... that's one of my mottos.

Sam's  probably an asshole of course. Well, duh... you'd need to be an
asshole to call a  total stranger for a free haircut. An asshole with a set of
ginormous  balls! I light a cigarette feeling a bit intimidated. This guy is
obviously  not shy, so I need to be assertive with him. Two minutes later, as
I'm exhaling  smoke, I hear a horn toot a couple of times. Looking in that
direction I see a  big guy waving his arms. Huh, he is certainly big! The
asshole part  and ginormous balls part remains to be seen. I'll keep my
wisecracks  under control.

Walking  towards him, he walks towards me holding out his hand, "Hi, Dylan,
nice to  meet you. Jesus, you are one good looking, dude. Steve didn't
mention that." I  go, "Ha, yeah, nice meeting you, Sam." He's well over six feet
 tall. Maybe six and a half feet tall... big bastard.  An  average looking
guy, with an average regular haircut that's grown  out shaggily. As we walk to
his nondescript car, he says, "I've got a date  tonight, finally got a
date, ha ha. So I better look my best. We're going to a  party, which is a good
thing 'cause I'm really low on cash. Did I mentioned, I  really appreciate
the 'free' part." I mutter, "No problem," and at the car  I see a guy in the
passenger seat. I look at Sam with a questioning expression  on my face, and
he shrugs, asking, "Do you mind? He's my roommate..." Ginormous  balls don't
do justice to this guy! I mean, I like giving young guys  haircuts, but
preferably young guys who actually look their  age, and are maybe a tiny bit
attractive. His roommate is as big as Sam and  neither is slim, or the
slightest bit cute. Actually, both could pass for thirty  years old if they had to
for some  unimaginable reason.

Getting in the  backseat, I'm introduced to Reilly Joyce, who's in  the
passenger seat. I give directions and they quiz me  momentarily about my
barbering. How'd I get into it, how old was  I, and did my father or uncle have a
barber background and maybe taught me the  trade? They both mention how I
gave Steve a really good haircut, and blah,  blah, blah... I answered with short
lies for every question because it's less  trouble than offering the true
background that resulting in me buying  professional barber tools online. Of
course the professional barber tools are  still at Ryan's.

Sam  and Reilly quickly lose interests in questioning me, and begin talking
 guy/roommate talk among themselves. I take it they're double dating
tonight. Obviously Sam had every intention of Reilly being included in the
haircut picture from the start, but wisely didn't mention that small detail to
me. He's probably the one with steel balls so he was elected to call. At the
apartment there a close parking spot that Sam pulls into. Then inside the
apartment, Reilly says, "Nice place. How do you guys keep it so neat?"  I
shrug, "My roommate and I are neat-nicks I guess,  well he is mostly." He
asks, "Oh yeah, whose your roommate?" I go, "Rob  Dickers," and Sam asks, "The
Merrimack's shortstop?" I nod, "Yeah,"  then point to the tiled kitchen area,
saying, "I cut hair there, so if  you'll help me push the kitchen table
against the wall." As they do that, I'm  look at them figuring the kitchen
stool won't work. They'll be too high on the  stool, so I mumble, "Just pull
over a kitchen chair while I'll get the clippers  and stuff." Sam says, "You
wouldn't have a beer would you?" I nod toward  the refrigerator, "Help
yourself." As I'm getting the barber stuff laid out  they both pop the top on cans
of Bud, mumbling, "Thank, dude." I ask, "Who  wants to be first?" and Reilly
sits in the chair, saying, "Regular haircut,  dude. Medium length. You
know, like Steve's." I nod muttering, "Yeah, sure," and  Sam asks, "You have a
cape, right?" I shake my head, "Nah, the fucking  thing got lost in the wash
about nine years ago." Reilly swallows  some beer, turning his head to look
at me, "What do you use? A towel?"  I go, "No, guys take their shirts off."

and he shakes his head, "No, get a  towel or something. I'm not taking my
shirt off." This isn't worth arguing  about, so I reach over and grab the
closest kitchen towel. This one  happens to be made from thin material and is
larger than most, so it'll do.  I don't want to see either of their torsos
anyway
With  the towel around his shoulder, I figure I'll intentionally duplicate
a  Super Cuts regular haircut, medium length. Not a haircut I'd want my name
 attached to, but it's what this bozo wants. With a half inch  guide on the
clippers, I use them up most of the sides and back of his big head,  then
use scissors over comb to half-ass blend half inch hairs to the  much longer
hairs on top. Using clippers over comb I cut off an inch of hair off  the
top, then use the trimming clippers to outline around and behind his ears,
then grin to myself as I'm exaggerating the squaring off of the hairs  across
the back of his neck. The half inch long hairs just ends on a blocked off
line across the back of his neck. It's taken seven or eight minutes at the
most,  and during that time the roommates carried on a conversation with each
other, excluding me. I'm just the barber, which is fine with me. When done
with  Reilly's haircut, Sam says, "Dylan, that's perfect. Same for me," and
they switch places with Reilly brushing hairs off his lap, mumbling,
"Thanks,  man," then, pointing at his empty beer can, he asks, "Do you mind?" as
he's nodding his head at the refrigerator. I'm like, "Help yourself,"  and
Sam says, "Grab one for me too, Ry-man." Oh Christ,  Ry-man!
Sam's  haircut takes me maybe a minute less then Reilly's, and Sam goes,
"Awesome,"  slapping a high five with me, as Reilly adds, "I'm buying a
barber cape on eBay and bringing it with me next time, donating  it to you,
Dylan." Sam's still brushing hair clippings off his neck, as he  mumbles, "Yeah,
and I'll get one of those soft barber's brushes  as my donation," then to
Reilly, "That couldn't cost much, could it?" Jesus,  what assholes! And they
said, 'Next  time'. Both  guys take their second beers with them heading for
the front door, asking,  "Can we drop you off someplace, Dan?" Oh yeah, that
me: Dan the barber! I  say, "No. No thanks, I need to clean up the kitchen,
hair clipping and..." he  doesn't let me finish, "Be cool, dude," and they're
out the door. I think I  just got overwhelmed by stronger personalities
than my own. Or maybe I was right  the first time: they're just a couple of
assholes. If so, they are rocking  the perfect haircut for assholes. I'd be
embarrassed to admit I did those two  haircuts, but they're just right for Sam
and Reilly. And I think to myself  again, they said, 'Next time...' Damn!
After  sweeping up the cut hairs and washing my hands and face, I look at
my shirt and  see hair clippings on the front. Pulling it off I put one on
that I wore  yesterday, then my hoodie goes over it. Stopping, I'm staring at
the pile of  dirty laundry for a bit. Mutter, "Balls," before shrugging to
myself  and pick up a heaping basket of dirty clothes. Using the elevator I
take  the clothes to the basement's laundromat area. Neither of the washing
machines or dryers are being used, so I fill up both washing machines, put
in  two dollars each, then some detergent and turn those mothers on.

Upstairs I  answer short text messages from the soldier boys, and an email from
Seth, who  says he can't wait for summer when he'll be able to see me again. Oh
sure, there  was none of that before he and his boyfriend broke up. Still,
Seth and I had a  sweet connection I thought.

During  the next two hour I listen to sports talk radio, 98.5, and do four
washing  machines loads, plus four dryer loads, then fold everything. I'm
doing Robby's  wash for him while he's probably making out with Frankie again.

Actually I feel  good getting my laundry done, and for doing Robby's too. I
like doing things for  him, and hell, when we're married guess  who's going
 to be doing our laundry... the head of the household, or moi?  Good  thing I
don't have a big ego! Hungry now, I make two grilled cheese  sandwiches and
eat them with half a bag of potato chips and a Coke. Healthy  meal. While
lying on the sofa, just for the hell of it I text Ryan: 'I  know ur in a
Boston bar, but you said to text so I'm  practicing.'  He  text back, 'This  is
more like it, Dylan. Text me in the morning. Steve's going home this
weekend.  U can sleep over." Goddammit! He knows better than that! I don't text
back  and he  doesn't either.  Then I think about it, and it's like why would
he text back? He gave me  my orders to 'text him in the morning'. But sleep
over? What's wrong with  him? I seriously am not even thinking about our next
sub/dom sex, certainly  not this soon after we just did it. Ho ho though, I
need to admit  I was often looking for it in Georgia. Since coming back tho
ugh  it's Rob's sex I'm looking forward too.

There  some bumping at the front door and I hear a girl giggling as I'm
lying  here frowning, thinking, 'What  the fuck?'   Robby and Frankie come
stumbling through the open door kissing.  Robby's back is to me but Frankie sees
me lying here on the sofa and  she breaks off the kiss, telling me, "It's
because of a bet Rob lost.  He lost and had to kiss me." By now Robby's
turned around and sees me on the  sofa and his face gets so red and hot-looking
it's could burst out in  flames any second now. He points at Frankie, as he
stutters,  "She, it's her, she made a bet. Frankie won, you heard her,
Dylan."  I'm maintaining a neutral expression on my face as Frankie  says ,  "Rob,
Dylan doesn't care if we kiss. Now if it was your mother seeing you with a
tart like me, that'd be a different story." She babbles on, thinking she's
funny. Then she says to me, "I wanted to stop in at Tracy's for  a
brewskie, but your boyfriend said you guys have beer here, so..." I  interrupt, "What
was the bet you lost, Rob?"  Robby's just standing there, like he doesn't
know what to do, sweat breaking out  on his forehead. Frankie's at the
refrigerator, saying over  her shoulder, "He bet me I couldn't name the teams that
won the last  five World Series." Robby says, "She named the teams back
further than I could. I got the Cardinals and Giants World series mixed up, and
 we Googled it. She was right."

He's relaxing  a little, as Frankie holds up a can of Bud, saying, "This is
the last one," and  then she pops the tab and takes a swallow. Robby looks
at me with a  quizzical expression, like: Where'd  the beers go?   I say, "I
gave two guys haircuts earlier today and they bummed a  couple beers each
from of our meager stash." Robby goes, "Oh, jeez.  Well that's okay,;  we
have a case in our basement storage unit. Would you, Dylan?" I'm like,  "You
want me to go get it?" He nods, "Yeah, if you don't mind." Somehow he's
reversed things in his head, like it's my fault for being here and seeing him
and Frankie kissing again, therefore as punishment I need to get the  fucking
case of beer to make up for it. He raises his eyebrows, making a  face like,
'Why  are you still lying there? I  get up, kind of admiring his approach.

He's my man after all, and maybe  soon he'll be Frankie's man as well, or
maybe he already is. Getting the  key to the storage unit from the bowl of
keys on the little table by the  door, I say, "I'll be right back. Don't do
anything I wouldn't do," and I'm out  the door.

It's  chilly in the unheated section of basement where each apartment has a
 storage unit. I'm guessing it's maybe forty-five degrees in here so at
least the beer is drinkable, although it should be cooler for our  uneducated
taste. I hump the case of Coors up and kick the door lightly. Frankie  opens
it and I carry the case to the kitchen bar. Robby and I load the beers in
the refrigerator with Robby glancing at me, and finally saying, "Thank you
for  getting the beer, Dylan," and he leans over to kiss my lips. I smile at
him, so  he'll know all  is well, and it is. If I saw him kiss Danny Monday
I wouldn't have a heart  attack, and I'm not having one seeing him and
Frankie  kissing... again. Robby's lips taste a little like  lipstick.

We  all get a beer and Frankie starts working on a poster-board, drawing an
outline  for keeping score of something. I'm like, what's up with that?"

pointing at the poster-board. Robby explains. "Oh, I didn't tell you. We're
going to start a pinochle tournament  with teams. The teams we had the other
night to start with. Me and Frankie, Beth  and Golden, you and Posse, plus
we've inviting other teams. They'll be a money  element each night, and an
eventual jackpot winner." Well haven't  Frankie and Robby been busy little
beavers this afternoon.  I say,  "It's Pony, not posse." He goes, "What?" and
I explain the nickname for  Daryl. Then Frankie sends Robby to our bedroom
to find a red magic marker. I'm  thinking, 'What the fuck...?' when Daryl
calls my cellphone. He wants  me to run with him. He says, "It's three o'clock
on a weekday, Dylan. Get  your ass over here for our three mile run." I go,
"Hold on a second," then yell  so Robby can hear me in the bedroom, "Can I
borrow the pickup for a couple of  hours?" Robby's got a couple of magic
markers, walking down the hall towards us,  saying, " Sorry...  what was that,
babe?" I ask again and tell him why. He takes the keys from his  pocket and
tosses them to me, saying, "Bring your partner over here afterwards,  we're
having pizza and beer for our trial run of this fucked-up scorecard  Frankie's
drawing." She hits his arm, "Hey you! I'm not screwing it  up."

I  leave them to their fun and skip down the steps, still feeling good.

Okay,  so maybe Frankie is planning on making a run at seducing Robby.

Robby's enjoying it obviously, but Frankie's not the first girl who  ever tried
getting Robby in the sack. He had plenty of offers in high school,  and a few
here at college from oversexed female types. And there were unfounded
rumors in high school about who Rob Dickers, star pitcher of the baseball  team,
was fucking next. He wasn't fucking anybody; girls or boys, he was  just too
shy. Too shy to squash the rumors too, or maybe he liked  the rumors. He
was a pitcher in high school but not good enough to  pitch at the college
level. The Merrimack baseball coach was interested in  Robby's bat though,
although not interested enough to give him  a scholarship. Robby's quite an
athlete though, and became the team's  starting shortstop as a sophomore.

Driving to the campus,  and out of nowhere I  have a vicious bout of
intense jealousy, pounding the steering wheel  and yelling obscenities at the top
of my lungs, my face red and hot. Holy  shit, I must have looked like a
crazy person. Then I take a minute  to focus my jealousy getting royally pissed
at Robby, before  changing my focus and aim some deadly venom towards that
cunt, Frankie. The jealous episode lasts less then two minutes before I
come to my senses, realizing I'm not sixteen and in puppy love, fer cristsakes.

 Robby has a friend who's a girl, and they enjoy hanging out together.

That's the  whole story... the end. Parking and walking to Pony's dorm I'm
thinking how I  don't want to do the almost silly-sex with Pony today. Not after
mister  master-dominator fucked me so well a couple of hours ago. Yeah, but if
I bring  Pony back to the apartment with me, like Robby told me to, we
wouldn't have a  chance to do anything anyway, not with all the other guys
there. Problem  solved.

Pony  and I begin our run of three miles and right away I notice  the
soreness in my rectum. It's not so bad I can't do the run, but  it's noticeable
until around the last mile when it fades away. It made  me grin to myself and
recall the hot fuck Ryan laid on my ass. After the run  we work up a bigger
sweat in the fitness center  that's oddly crowded this afternoon. Pony
manages to get on  the equipment he always works on, but he did it out of his
normal  progression today. I worked with free weights that aren't the 'in'
thing  enough for most of these guys and girls to bother with. No glamour in
lifting free weights I guess.

In  Pony's dorm afterwards, he asks his roommate, Tom Higgins, to  play
pinochle with  us tonight.  Tom's up for it, saying he'll bring a friend as his
 partner. I hang out in the dorm room with Tom while Pony showers. He's
back  in five minutes wearing just a towel around his waist. Definitely not the
 self conscious type, he drops the towel and looked for clothes to wear
naked as  a newborn. Tom paid him no attention, but I was fascinated that
Pony's cock  appears even smaller than I remembered. Funny how I'm not
considering finding a  way to slip in our silly sex somehow. I'd like to suck on his
smallish  dick again. Pony turns and grins at me, saying, "That was a good
workout, huh,  Dylan?" Cute guy, basically my size except for that one small
matter, not that  he apparently gives a shit about it. I nod, "Good workout,
buddy. Too bad we  can't finish it," and he makes a face, nodding at Steve
who's not paying us any  attention at all.

Walking  to the pickup I rub Pony's buzzed head and he goes, "Don't get a
big head or  anything, but hooking up with you really makes me feel good." I
nod, "You too,  Daryl," and I give a thought to how hot it would be making
out with him,  hands all over his taut body. He's not a kisser though. When
we get to the  apartment Golden and Beth are already there, and they  brought
a card table and four folding chairs with them. So we'll have  the card
table, the kitchen table, and the coffee table. Three games can go on  at the
same time. As Pony and I crack a can of beer, two more baseball player  teams
show up with another case of beer. There's is on ice in a big cooler.

Everyone's talking at once and the radio playing as more guys and  girls show up
to plays cards on a Friday night. Pony sticks close to  me, like gum on my
shoe, but that's okay because I like him a  lot.

When  everyone's here, it's obvious they invited too many people. Too many
teams,  so a couple of teams need to wait until a team loses before they get
to  play. Frankie stands on a footstool and takes charge, stating the
rules and getting Robby to collect ten bucks from each player for  the prize
money.  Frankie tries explaining it to everyone her  convoluted rules for who
wins the jackpot. There's lots  of give and take before everyone's more of
less satisfied they have some idea  how to win. Pony and I stay on the
sidelines exchanging childish smirks while  mocking some of the give and take
participants. Then  Frankie collects more money from everyone eliciting lots of
grumpy remarks and  smart-ass comments, but the money's for pizzas.  Robby
asks me to call in  the order for eight large pizzas. I say, "Yes, boss," then
wiggle my finger,  like come over here. Robby makes his way to me and lean
his head close  to mine so I can whisper. "You're going to need to do an
extremely good job  in bed tonight to make up for the flirting and kissing
you're doing  with that skank, Frankie." He actually laughs, saying, "She's not
a skank, but  I'm all over your idea for us in bed tonight."

The  card party goes on until one o'clock in the morning with Golden and
Beth  beating out one of the two-man baseball teams for the jackpot. The
second  place team lost by only twenty-two points and everyone wants a second
place  prize for future games. Pony and I didn't win a single game even  though
I tutored him about the nuances of the game while we waited for  our place
at one of the tables. After the jackpot is collected  by Beth and Golden
everyone begins leaving and I never do get a chance to fuck  Pony. Robby gives
four people rides to the campus, Pony being one of the four,  and naturally,
Frankie is also one of the four. She probably sat on  his lap during the
ride to dormitory row. Alone in the apartment, I turn off  the radio and look
around. If a tornado ran through here it  wouldn't look much worse. Robby's
back in a pretty fast time, so  that's good. He's not drunk, just a little
high. He goes, "This place looks  like shit." I nod, and he goes, "Lets deal
with it tomorrow." No complaints from  me. After our bathroom necessities
we're in bed talking while  rubbing our hands over each other which leads to a
hot make-out before we  have the most perfect lover's sex... twice. We don't
get to sleep  until almost three o'clock in the morning. The most awesome
thing though is  knowing I have Robby all to myself for the weekend. Beth and
Frankie both have  families in the Boston area and they're spending the
weekend with then.

We  sleep until noon on Saturday, then lie in bed talking quietly about
how things are going so far in our junior year, deciding to give it two
enthusiastic thumbs-up so far. We don't mention Frankie, which might have  gotten
at least one thumbs down. Finally I'm like, "I've gotta take a  wicked
piss, Rob. I've been holding it in as long as I  can." Robby goes, "Me too,
boyfriend." We piss next to one another,  then wash our face and hands, then
brush our teeth standing side by side  looking at each other in the mirror,
grinning like dorks. Back in bed I get on  top of him and we make-out like wild
things for ten minutes or so until  Robby rolls me off of him onto my back.

He pulls my boxer short below my  buttocks, saying, "Give me that pillow,
babe," and when I do he pushes my  legs back, muttering, "Hold those awesome
legs of your against your chest,"  and then pushes back on my legs raising
my ass so he can put the pillow  under it. All this time his four inch fat
boner is sticking out the slit in  his boxer shorts. He fucks me wicked hard
this morning, grunting and really  humping his boner up my ass. When I squeal
at the onset of orgasm my cum shoots  right into my face. Robby's humping
against my buttocks, grunting out a  laugh seeing cum drooling down from my
forehead, then his expression changes as  he's humping his load of cum up my
ass. What a great fuck! We lay together  sweating and breathing hard with
our hearts pounding. Then, instead of getting  out of bed, we both go back to
sleep.

Around  two o'clock we finally get out of bed  both  feeling pretty good.

No hangover for either of us, and then we go into the  kitchen for coffee and
just stop and stare. The apartment looks like eighteen  college students
were drinking beer and eating pizza for five hours in  here. Robby mumbles,
"What a fucking mess," a  true understatement. We look at each other, turn
back to look at the war  zone, then Robby says, "Put some tunes on, Dylan. I'll
make us coffee and  then we'll slowly start cleaning this shit up." I flick
on our radio at  92.5 FM, saying, "Next Friday we get promises from the
girls they'll  come over here Saturday morning. They can go home to mommy and
daddy after  helping us clean this place."

With  rock music in the background,  and  very little conversation, we
follow Robby's plan. Sipping  our coffee we  methodically and slowly, working
like robots, concentrating on one  area of the apartment at a time. Before
we're done I carry out  three separate trash loads as Robby's wiping counters
and tables  with Lysol kitchen cleaner. Then there's spot cleaning of the
living room  carpet, sofa, and chairs, and washing the sticky kitchen floor on
our hands  and knees. We get in the flow and after two hours we stand in the
middle of the  apartment looking around nodding our heads. Then I spot a
beer can  peeking out  behind the refrigerator. I go over and dump it in the
now empty kitchen trash  can that I just lined with a brand new clean Huffy
liner. It goes  "Clink" and I ask, "What now, boss?" Robby says, "There's
little pieces of  stuff on the carpet. It's all over the fucking rug." I nod my
head, saying,  "That's a job  for a vacuum cleanse,  and we happen to have
one in the closet." He goes, "The one we've never used?" I  nod, "Yep,
that's the one." Robby puts his arm on my shoulder, asking, "Who do  you believe
should run a vacuum cleaner, the head of the household, or...?" I  go, "Um,
me?" He goes, "Yeah, I think so." I nod my head and get the vacuum  cleaner
out, turn it on and that fucker sucks up everything! After running  it all
over the living room and even on the kitchen area tile floor, I turn it  off
and look  at Rob, who's watched the entire process, He goes, "Jesus, a really
good  job, Dylan! If you'll pass the hose handle, or whatever it is, to me,
I'll do  the hall, our bedroom, then the bathroom." I nod, mumbling, "Are
you sure, Rob?  It should be my job," and the goes, "Maybe, but I'll do some
of it this  time." The annoying sound a vacuum cleaner makes continues for
another ten  minutes, and then silence except for Michael Jackson singing an
oldie on  the radio that I don't know. Michael turned himself into a freak
before we were born, but what a talent !!  So  unique!
After  Robby's and my vacuum cleaning experience, we take a shower together
 and with water pouring down on our naked bodies, we scrub and  shampoo,
bumping against one another, grinning and purposely rubbing our  asses
together. When we're clean as newborn babes, Rob puts pressure  on my shoulders. I
go down on my knees and suck his cock with him  eventually getting the head
of his boner in my throat for some deep throating  action. A minute later he
shoots a minor load down my throat, the last two  spurts deliciously land
on my tongue. Yum! Later, happily content with each  other, we eat Italian
subs in downtown North Andover, then screw around on  campus and at the
ballpark for an hour or so. Saturday night we go to the movies  with Chubby and
John Beverly. They didn't feel like having  Saturday night dates. Something
new.

After  the movies we have a few beers at Tracy's, but Tracy isn't there. We
get in  around midnight and go to sleep in each other's arms without sex.

None this Sunday morning either, but we spend the day together in the
apartment, never going out except to buy the Sunday Globe. After a  big,  albeit
late, breakfast we pull the sofa over in front of the TV and watch the Pats
game  while lying together on the sofa wearing only boxer shorts and
t-shirts.  It's chilly so Robby gets a clean sheet and we snuggle under that
touching  each other and kissing during commercials. The Pats beat the Jets and
before the  four-fifteen game starts Robby fucks me slowly until we're both
moaning in deep  sexual arousal. I'm on my hand and knees, on the sofa.

Robby's on his knees  behind me with the sheet over us like a tent. Robby's head
is the tent pole  as he's doing slow penetrations for maybe ten minutes
until I could  scream with the need to climax. I'm like, "Oooh, oooh, mmm, Rob,
please," and a  murmured, "Okay, babe," from him, and he begins pile-driving
his fat cock  up my ass hard and fast. In thirty seconds or less we blast
off almost at  the exact same second. Oh God, did that feel  good!
It  also made a mess on the recently spot-cleaned sofa, so Robby, claiming
he  has to do all  the heavy lifting during our sex, sends me to get wet
paper towels. We  wipe my cum off the sofa's arm, and his cum off my leaking
ass and his now  floppy dick. Then with our boxer shorts pulled back up we
watched the second  game while being obnoxiously in love, kissing and saying
words of love  to one another with lots of overdone compliments that we
sincerely mean at the  time we're saying them. Halfway through the second game I
make  chili for  dinner. Robby watches me do it from his seat on a stool at
the kitchen bar.  The chili turns  out too spicy but Robby, with sweat
breaking out on his forehead, said  it's the best he's ever had. We watch the
first half of Sunday Night  Football, then start making out again, rubbing each
other's testicles and  squeezing them now and then, giggling like school
girls. That leads to  us having another smoking hot fuck on the sofa, falling
off in a pile  at one point. Robby finishing me off with us standing, his arm
around the front  of my neck pulling my head back and his hips hammering
his hard cock  up my ass. My cum stream lands on the first cushion of the sofa
a couple of  seconds before Robby's filling my ass up again with his  seed.

Gasping we both lean over, our hands on our knees,  desperately trying to
get our breath back.  Later we're in bed talking about fucking ourselves to
death and, just because we  want to and we can, Robby fucks me again, with
both of us our sides  this time. This fuck continues for a delicious fifteen
minutes. A  lazily fuck that eventually produces squeaks from both of us as
we shoot off our  small orgasms, that are wonderful. Then we blame each other
for instigating that  last fuck,  and truthfully I'm not sure which one of
us started it. And even with all that  we're both asleep before midnight.

And before I know it, it's another  Monday morning of our junior year at
college.


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


donnymumford@outlook.com

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

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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