Date: Fri, 28 Apr 2017 22:10:30 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE  Chapter  40

DYLAN'S  JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE


Chapter  40


by  Donny Mumford


So far  it's been an exceptionally fun and sexy Thursday evening. I'm
appreciating  John Smith a little more each time I see him and that sometimes
happens with a new buddy-sex partner. And, as often happens, I'm  feeling a
little extra fondness for him after the haircut. I'm less  critical of his
appearance now too... heh heh. His  amazing blue eyes, light red hair, sexy
mouth, and cute grin...  what's not to like? He sees himself as bisexual, but
then don't they all?  Like other so-called bi-guys I've met, John only feels
comfortable performing  the 'male' parts of sex. He only 'tops' in other
words, with some spanking  thrown in as a bonus. To be fair, he did suck my
dick for about a minute  the first time we had sex. Since then I'm the only one
doing any  cock sucking, and John's added deep throating to his 'male'
sexual duties.  None of this a problem for me of course. Oh, and I think he has
a very nice  penis and we're doing a kind of sub/dom sex. More so tonight
than  previously and it's encouraging.

Presently  we're parked on Friendly's parking  lot with an ice cream
dessert on our minds. Getting out of the Jeep and  walking to the front door, John
says, "I'm paying for the dessert since you paid  for the dinner." I go,
"Ya know, maybe you should have been an accountant,  John." He laughs, "You
think I'm a bit too money conscious, huh?"  I shrug, saying sarcastically,
"No, not at all. Why on  earth would you say that?" He laughs again, then says,
"I just want to be  fair, and have people be fair with me but I readily
admit I talk about it  too much. Do you think I'm cheap?" Shaking my head, "No,
I don't. Not at  all. I'm pretty much just breaking your balls again."

Inside  we both order a sundae they call, Forbidden Fudge Brownie.  It
contains vanilla ice cream in addition to chunks of fudge-brownies with  fudge
sauce. Then there's whipped cream and swirls of caramel, with a cherry on
top. I'm feeling a little nauseous just describing it. I can't  finish mine
although John has no trouble finishing his; that boy eats like  a lumberjack
and stays skinny as a rail. He looks at my half-eaten sundae, then  at me,
grinning and asking, "Do you mind if I finish that, Dylan?" I slide it over to
him and he begins eating it with the& spoon I left sticking up from  the
glop. After watching him for a minute, I'm like, "Aren't you  worried about my
germs? That spoon has gone from my mouth to that  melting ice cream at
least twenty times." He grins that really cute-boyish  grin of his, saying,
"Germs? No one as good looking as you could  possibly have germs." I mutter,
"Everybody tells me that." He laughs. Okay,  here's something else I like about
John: he laughs easily, and at  himself sometimes too, which I feel is a
very good personality  trait.

Watching  him eat the rest of my sundae, I'm admiring the haircut I gave
him. He  senses me staring I guess because his big blue eyes come up to mine,
as he asks,  "What?" with a smile on his freckled face. I shake my head,
like there's  nothing, and he asks, "Am I making mouth sounds or something?" I
go,  "No, I was admiring your haircut and mentally patting myself on the
back for  being such an awesome barber." He laughs at that too, then runs his
fingers back  through his burr haircut, saying, "I think it looks great. You
were right, you  are a better barber than old Joe." That's one more good
thing  about him; he's very complimentary of moi. Deflecting the compliment, I
say, "A  really good haircuts starts with very good hair, and you have great
hair,"  He frowns, "It's red!"

John  scrapes the bottom of the bowl, and mutters, "Delicious," then picks
up the check our waitress dropped off a few minutes ago. He looks at me,
asking, "Considering we only had sundaes, what percentage would you leave for
a  tip?" I'm like, "For two sundaes? At the most fifteen percent. I mean,
what'd she actually do?" He nods and puts two dollars on the table,
mumbling, "That's more than fifteen percent, but I don't feel right leaving
change." At the front register he pays for the sundaes and as  we're going out the
door, I say, "Thanks, John," and I give the back of his  neck a squeeze. He
sort of moves his head away from my hand, and I go,  "Would you please
explain what you have against me touching you. In case you've  forgotten there
is touching involved having sex together." He goes, "Oh man,  it's just that
I worry someone I know will see you doing it and say,  'Hey, John Smith's a
queer.'" Making a face, I go, "Are you serious?" He  nods, "Yeah, someone
who knows me could be in Friendly's or one  of these other stores." I go,
"That's absurd! Do you watch sports on  TV? Athletes are hugging and touching
their teammates constantly." He says,  "I'm aware it's illogical, Dylan,
but.... Oh fuck it, go ahead and touch me." I  mutter, "Now I don't feel like
it."

Getting  in the Jeep, he adds, "I'm paranoid about my family suspecting I'm
having  sex with guys, and yet there's nothing I like better than doing
that and  especially with you." Driving across the parking lot, I say, "Do you
mind if I  ask how often you have sex, besides with me, I mean." He goes,
"Oh fuck,  Only very rarely after my early days with Freddie Donovan. With him
I did  it maybe two or three times a month. Then that ended because he went
 away to prep school and I went to Haverhill High School. We drifted
apart. I don't even know where he is now; probably away at college  somewhere."

I'm like, "Yeah, you told me about Freddie, I meant after him." He  makes a
face, "It's embarrassingly rare. I've only had sex  like seven or eight times
through my high school years until now,  not counting you." I'm surprised,
"After middle school you've had sex  only seven times?" He's defensive,
"Yeah, but I'm sure there are  secret gay guys who haven't had sex even once. I
do it when I  can, mostly with strangers I'll never see again." Looking over
at him,  I go, "I wasn't dissing you, John. You're right about closeted
guys our age  who haven't had sex yet." We drive onto route 114 and John  says
wistfully, "One of the guys I fucked I'm pretty sure was under  age. It was
his idea though, but I still have nightmares about getting  thrown in jail
for having sex with a minor." I go, "Jesus, what a  downer. How long ago was
that?" He says, "It's been over two years now," and I  mumble, "I think you
can probably stop having nightmares about that  one."

It's  hard for me to relate to someone having sex only seven or eight times
 in three years. No, that'd be six years: three years of high school and
it's been three years since he graduated. Holy shit! And I  thought John was
smugly confident the first two times we did it. I  thought he had brass
balls, but maybe it was more desperation than anything  else. Yeah, but he's
right; his sexual experience is much closer  to a normal young gay guy's
sex-life than mine. John looks over at me as I stop  at a red light near campus,
"So now you know why I think you're pretty  special. Just saying..." I look
at him, nodding my head, "Jeez, John, I could  probably take advantage of
you, huh?" He shakes his head, "Some guys  might, but you wouldn't."

Approaching  the apartment complex, I ask, "So, you gonna take off for home
now?" He  goes, "I was sort of hoping I could do it with you again, um,
now." Wow! Not  wanting to seem too eager I mumble, "Sure, I guess. You do it
good, but my butt cheeks are still tender from that last spanking you gave
me." He goes, "I'll only spank you a little bit then, but we're establishing
a  routine that I hope we can keep going, um, like forever," and he laughs.

I  chuckle, muttering, "Jesus, forever, huh?" Grinning, he says, "Yes,
forever would be perfect for me. Every lunch time for the rest of our  lives
you suck my cock, then I'd deep throat you until both our dicks  are really
hard, then I'll fuck you until we both have massive orgasms.  After that we
wash-up in the men's room and bump fist and do it all  over again the next
weekday. On Saturdays you cook me awesome  dinners after which we do everything
we do during lunch, only we do it  twice." I'm parking and muttering,
"That's probably a little bit of  an optimistic scenario, John." He chuckles, "Ya
think?"

Just  inside the front door of the apartment John smiles and unzips my
coat,  helps me out of it and then takes my shirt off. I'm just standing here
looking  at him and letting him do what he wants. He gets his shirt off,  then
unbuttons my jeans and pulls them down just below my ass. I make a  'face'
at him, like, really? He grins looking over at the end table  where he left
my pack of condoms. "C'mon over here, Dylan." He has two fingers  inside the
waistband of my underpants pulling me with him. Picking  up a single
condom packet, he hands it to me and then pulls my underpants down. I'm feeling
a pleasant buzzing in my nuts and I can't help grinning from watching  him
do everything in his matter-of-fact way. Down come his underpants and  jeans,
as he's quietly saying, "I want to fuck you with you laying  over the arm
of the sofa again. You were real stable there and it  was awesome that your
asshole hardly moved even when I was humping my cock  up your ass extra
hard." He chuckles, "Oh God, I just got a shiver  thinking about doing that
earlier." I'm feeling slightly submissively  hypnotized by now and it's a damn
cool sensation.  John strokes his cock a few times, then reaches up  and gets
a fistful of my hair like he did earlier and slowly pulls my  head down as I
obligingly bend at the waist. He murmurs, "Oh man,  I love this more than I
can say."

Letting  my body be very limber allows John to pulls my head down near his
waist. He says, "Go ahead, Dylan, you know what to do." I drop to my knees,
 then pick up his flaccid penis. He holds onto a fistful of my hair pulling
 my face against his privates, humping his hips gently which squishes his
dick  that's still in my fingers. His red/orange pubic hairs tickle my face.

His scent  is still fresh and male and somehow boyish-smelling. I hear a
moan from  John, then he pulls my head back a little so I can put his cock in
my  mouth. Sucking on it quietly for a few seconds gets my cock firming up
nicely  and I'm really liking this whole routine because it allows me to
realistically play the submissive role in my head.

Soon my  stroking and sucking and licking on his cock generates those sexy
wet-mouth  sounds. John pulls my hair, moaning, "Ummm, oooh, ummm." His feet
 shuffle and his hips gently hump a few more times. He's getting aroused as
 he moves my head so that my mouth and throat are pretty much  aligned with
 his boner. Thrusting his hips shoves his hard cock past the gag reflex
area  in my throat and then the head goes down about three inches and he leaves
 it there. I feel it growing in size for ten seconds or so before he begins
 thrusting it back and forth in my throat. There's some gagging from me and
some  moans of arousal from John, but it only goes on for maybe a  minute
before he pulls it all the way out of my mouth. His boner sticks  straight
out from his pubes, sloppy with precum and saliva. There's precum on my
tongue left behind when he dragged his boner out.

With me  looking up at him John stands there still holding a fistful of my
hair, his eyes closed, as he moans, "Oooh that felt so  fucking good."

Opening his eyes he grins at me, "You are so fucking  awesome, Dylan," and he
pulls my hair getting me to stand up. I'd like  to maintain the slight trance
I had there for a minute, but his grin  and words of praise causes my trance
to evaporate. My boner's throbbing though  so all is not lost. John lets go
of my hair and pats the arm of the sofa  so I lie across the arm while he
rolls on a condom. Then, right away  the slippery nipple is at the end of the
condom pressing against my  asshole. It slides in easier than earlier and
his cock is getting to feel  familiar now making me shudder a little. John
fucked me a couple of hours  ago so my anus isn't as tight as it will be, say
tomorrow morning. Feels  just as good as ever though.

He  pushing his cock steadily up my ass until he's leaning against my
buttocks.  After a few humps against me, he slaps the side of my ass twice and
lets  out a long sigh sounding very contended. Gripping my hips John pulls me
back  against his groin as tightly as he can get us, then he lets go of me
and begins a steady medium-speed fucking. It's soon obvious to me we're
gonna go on longer than previous times and I soon get into a  dreamy world of
pleasure with no hurt at all. He's not thrusting hard enough for  us to hear
the normal sounds of males fucking, only a subtle "Slap,  slap," sound when
he gets a little over-aroused. Mostly the only  sounds we hear are breathing
and contended sighing and quiet moans of  sexual arousal. John's rubbing
his hands up and down my back or leaning over  massaging my shoulders and it
all goes nicely along with the  constant pleasure from my rectum. How to
explain this more casual, almost  lazy, sexual pleasure. It's not the thrilling
kind but the kind  that stays in a consistent middle zone and seems as
though it  could go on forever. Obviously it can't though because it  inevitably
reaches a  point where the orgasm button ignites and then it starts building
until all I  can think about is climax!
It gets  me squirming on the arm of the sofa and then I can't  friggin'
stop moaning, "Oooh, ooh, ooh, John, ooh, ooh," and he gets  to thrusting
faster as his button gets pushed and it a totally different last  minute of
fucking; totally different from the seven or eight minutes preceding  it. We're
into the, "Slapslapslapslap," sounds now. When my orgasm is  just about to
bust-out, right at the tipping point, there's nothing I  can or want to do
except squeal, "Eeeeeiii," with cum spurting out of  my throbbing boner, then
another blast of  cum. Sensations are exploding in my ass and all around my
groin.  No matter how slow the build-up the climax is as awesome as ever!
Orgasmic explosion of sensations that last at their peak seven or  eight
seconds; sizzling sensations dancing around my cock as John's  humping against my
buttocks blowing out a long moist exhale,  "Sssshhhh," that sprays my  back
and it rough and tumble nine or ten seconds  as he's climaxing and blowing
his orgasms into the condom. Oh  man, again we climaxed at just about the
same time.

We're  both doing post-climax deep breathing with pounding hearts as John
backs up until his cock drops sloppily out of my ass. He pulls  off the
condom, saying, "Jeeezus, that was good!" Then a chuckle, "But,  dude, my dick
is sore." I slide off the arm of the  sofa wondering about my ass. Standing
up and taking a step and there's  no problem; my ass feels fine. John's cock
probably isn't big enough to get  me walking bowlegged. I'm shivering a
little as the last buzzing of my orgasm  takes a fast trip up and down my dick,
then I feel relaxed and  really good. Sex always makes me feel so fucking
good! John's walking  to my bedroom so I follow him there, then into the
bathroom where he flushes the  condom. For some reason I get fixated on his
freckled-covered arms. They're  skinny just like his legs. There's red hair, a
very pale red, on  his arms, not the longer curly hairs you see on some guys'
arms. His are  straight and short but there is quite a bit of curly
pale-red-hair on  his calves. Oh boy, he has hairy legs which is sort of a turn on
for me. I'd  like to feel them wrapped around me with his cock up my ass but
we'd need to be  lying down for that and he doesn't sleep with anyone.

Buckling  his belt John snorts out a short laugh, saying, "Well, I'm
finally all  fucked-out and don't even wanna do it again tonight." Then he yells,
"I'm  sexually satisfied, Dylan!" Then a mumbled, "Never thought I'd ever be
 able to say that." He seems as happy as I've seen him, I mean, during our
limited time together. He goes, "It's all thanks to you, Dylan, so  thank
you, thank you, thank you!" Looking at that slim body of his I'd  love to
give him a hug, but instead I say, "Thanks to you too, John. You  and me are
into mutual pleasure, dude! I enjoy the hell out of our buddy-sex."  He's
washing his hands. Hands that tonight have no grease in the  knuckles groves or
dirt under his fingernails. His whole body has  a creamy-white complexion
which really highlights the orange  and red hairs on his extremities and head.

I ask, "Do you mind telling  me how much you weight?" He looks up, and
laughs. "The things you  ask! Jeez, lets me think. I guess the last time I  got
weighed was during a physical exam for my job at the Toyota  dealership. I
weighed a hundred-and-nineteen pounds and I'm five-feet,  eleven-and-a-half
inches tall. And yeah, I know... that's skinny." I go,  "You look good to me,
John."

As he  dries his hands he grins, saying, "I'm awfully glad I met you, Dylan
Newman." I  go, "Me too," and he pats my shoulder, saying, "Yeah, well I
better get going  now. Work-day tomorrow for me. I'll shoot you a text when I
get home from work."  I mutter, "Sure," and he stops to put a hand on each
of my shoulders and looks  me in the eyes, saying, "Um, would you reassure me
one more time that  you'll be my date tomorrow night." I nod, "Yep, John,
you can count on me. I'm  gonna see what's-up in Worcester." He smiles and we
walk through the living  room. We both put our shirts on and after putting
his coat on at  the front door he does a one arm hug with a pat on my back.

"It's been one of my  best nights ever, Dylan. I feel like I made a good
friend." I nod, smiling, "You  bet, John, see you tomorrow." Then he's out the
door and on his way. I look out  the sliding glass door and see his old
Chevy drive out of sight.

Sitting  on the sofa I'm staring at the sofa's arm; the one I was laying
on. I'm  recreating in my head the good fuck John laid on my ass. Oops, I
didn't put my sweatshirt over the arm of the sofa this time. Curious, I get  up
and look at the material on the outside of the arm and see two spots of
cum about the size of a quarter. Fuck, I thought I unloaded a stream of cum
when  I climaxed. Huh! It felt great even though it wasn't a lot. Getting a
spray  bottle of Lysol all-purpose cleaner I try wiping the spots of jism off
the  end of the sofa. A couple of spays of Lysol, then I'm wiping at the
spots with a paper towel. That should do it. Laying on the sofa now  I'm
thinking it was a pretty good night all things considered. I text Robby,  'What
are you doing boss?' Staring at my cell phone I see my message was  delivered
but I get no reply, then think... Greg Peters!
Hmmm, I'll  bet anything Rob is out with that neighbor from his past again
tonight.  Yeah, but why shouldn't he be out doing something? I did something
and it was  fun. I hope Rob's having fun too. Turning the TV on to Thursday
Night Football,  I see it's the Cowboys against the Eagles. It's the
halftime  report with the Eagles up 17 to 10. Do I care? Not really. I leave the
TV  on though as I lay here thinking about Robby and me. I miss him and I
wonder if  he misses me. I texted him twice without getting a reply although he
did  answer my call yesterday. I'm not going to get stupid about this
though. The  poor guy is working and probably putting in some study time for his
final exam  tomorrow afternoon. Mine is at ten o'clock in the morning when
I'll see  Ryan again. That makes me think about him and then poor Steve and
that ugly  scene in their dorm room. I don't want to think about that though,
so I go back  to thinking about why Robby hasn't texted me or called me.

Fuck it! I turn  off the TV, take a shower and, wearing only boxer shorts, sit
at the desk to put  in an hour's  review for tomorrow's final. With that
shit in my head I get in bed and fall  asleep.

Friday  morning I'm up at eight o'clock feeling odd. Maybe it's because I
woke up alone  and I'm used to sleeping with Robby. I slept on his pillow
last night.  Opening the study guide I reread some stuff while eating a
breakfast of OJ,  coffee, and two bowls of Froot Loops in milk; that used to be
called 'fruit  loops' except there's no fruit in the sugary  cereal. With a
sugar high I get my coat and backpack on and drive onto the campus  arriving
at the site of my last final exam at nine-forty-five. Students  are milling
around as usual, some smoking while most of them  have their notes out
reviewing for the exam. I've done all the reviewing I  can stand so I light a
cigarette watching Ryan walk up the steps. He comes  over to me, saying,
"G'morning, Dylan. Ready for the exam?" I nod, "I'm  over-ready actually. Um, how'd
Steve's haircut turn out?" Ryan grins,  "You're jealous, aren't you?" I
give him a disgusted 'look' exhaling noisily,  "No, Ryan, I'm not jealous. Just
making small talk. Forget I asked." He  says, "Look, you've got it all
wrong. Steve got us high on pot. He's kind  of a pot-head. I told him about you
and me in Georgia and he said he wanted to  try the  experience he described
having with you. So I was high and gave him a  thrill.  Couldn't you tell I
was higher than a kite can  fly when you were there?" I shrug, and he says,
"I obliged the guy, so  sue me. He loved it too!" I've got nothing to say
to that. Nothing that  wouldn't start a fight. I know he took advantage of
Steve.

He  lights a cigarette and takes a drag, then while exhaling he asks, "How
many  of these students, the ones in our class for the last twelve weeks, do
you  know?" I shrug, "A few, why?" He goes, "I don't know a single one of
them and  you know what? I don't want to know them." I'm shaking my head
slowly, not  even giving that remark the courtesy of a reply. He is fucked-up in
 the head and there's no two ways about it. He goes, "Steve's visiting me
in  Georgia for spring break. He wants to have my specialty experience again
so I'll  be doing him and Jeff in my apartment. You can come too, but you'll
need to just  be one of my boys." What a sick fuck! I mutter, "I'm going
in," and he  follows me, saying, "It's Steve's idea to visit me during spring
break, not  mine. He nagged me." I mumble, "That's nice," and he goes, "How
about you? Why  don't you wanna visit me and all the Marietta guys you met
last summer? Like I said though, if you do you're gonna get my specialty
haircut too. And I know you want to experience it again, but you won't  admit
it." I glance at him and he goes, "All my boys get the haircut." I just
shake my head. He's scary! Sitting in the seat I always sit in for this  class
I say as nicely as I can, "No, thanks, Ryan, and I'm not one of your
'boys'. I'll be working for Rob that week." He runs his fingers up the hair  at
the back of my head, asking, "Are you ever gonna get a haircut?" I move  my
head away, "Don't touch, okay? I'm not in the mood, and what's it to you  when
I get a haircut?" The professor says, "If I could have everyone's
attention, please!"

Ryan  and I don't say another word as the exams are passed out. Then for
the next  fifty-five minutes I concentrate on a rather easy final exam. I'm
not the first  one done by a long shot, and Ryan finished five minutes before
me, but half  the class is still working on the exam when I turn mine in and
leave the  building. I'm not sure if I expect Ryan to wait for me outside
to say goodbye or  even if I want him to be there. He's not here. Huh! I
guess our last few  comments to each other was goodbye enough considering he
isn't the Ryan  Wilcox I used to know. As I go down the steps it's odd that I
find my eyes  dripping a few tears. Walking across the parking lot to the
pickup I have this  deep sadness come over me. After starting the engine, I sit
here and cry  silently for maybe three minutes.  Wiping my eyes with the
heel of my  hands, I drive away not at sure if I was crying for Ryan or for
myself; probably  for Ryan. Poor lost Ryan...

Back at  the apartment, without allowing myself to think about anything, I
run  the vacuum, do a load of wash, then dust every piece of furniture  in
the apartment with Pledge spray wax; it leaves everything shiny and smelling
nice. After putting the washed clothes in the dryer, I clean the bathroom
until  sweat is running down my face. Back to the basement I fold the dry
clothes and  then back in the apartment I put the clothes away, then sit on the
edge of  the bed and give myself a good talking to. Mostly telling myself
to get  over it, although I'm not sure what I mean by that. Just that I need
to get the fuck over it! I'm in kind of a daze until Robby texts me saying
he's sorry he didn't return my text last night, but he'd gone out without
his  cellphone. Huh... liar, liar, pants on fire because he hasn't gone
anywhere  without his cell phone since I've known him. He also tells me he's
leaving home  now and he hopes he'll see me at the apartment before his final
this afternoon.  It's eleven-twenty now so he'll be here around twelve-twenty
at the  latest.

I'm  smelling the back of my hand thinking about that. If I want to be
negative I  could wonder, why he didn't leave earlier so we could have reunion
sex before  his exam. Or if I want to see the glass as half full I could
think... what? What  could I think the reason was he didn't leave earlier? Maybe
because he  was hungover from drinking all night and fucking Greg Peters,
or more  likely this asshole Peters kid was fucking Robby all night. Thinking
that  doesn't do me any good though, so I stop thinking that. Instead, I'm
thinking how the back of my hand smells good, then my cell phone beeps and
it's a text from Daryl. Reliable Pony. He said he'd text me after his final
 exam, and here's his text: 'Why don't you ever text me, Dylan? Can you
come  over, Tommy's left for home?' Texting back I say: 'I was just about to
text u. I'll be right over.'
This is  what I need! Some buddy-sex with hoodie boy. It'll get me thinking
 positive thoughts again.  Yeah, spend some time with upbeat and always
complimentary, Daryl Ponti,  aka Pony. I mean, I'm all done with finals! I
should be celebrating.  The ride over is uneventful and then the campus looks
almost  empty compared too to the  normal activity during the semester. Many
students have taken off for places  near and far. Parking the Jeep close to
Daryl's dormitory, I walk down dormitory  row determined to let go of the
Ryan-downer. I wasn't very nice to him but  his ludicrous insinuation that I
was jealous because Steve was  getting that ludicrous haircut is mind-numbing.

And then Ryan telling me  Steve was spending spring break in Georgia, as if
I give a shit. Oh,  and Jeff is going to be living with Ryan while
attending that stupid university  in Georgia. Ryan tells me these things as if he
expects me to say, 'Oh forgive  me! Let me be your boy again.' Grow the fuck
up! That's what I say to all  of it.

One  knock on Daryl's door and he opens it with his cute smile and shiny
eyes.  His eyes look bigger because he's wearing his clear eyeglasses with
the tortoiseshell frame. Not that he needs the glasses since his  eyesight is
twenty-twenty without glasses. And oh my God, I forgot about the  haircut I
did for him last weekend. I go, "Jeezus, Pony, you look awfully cute  with
those eyeglasses and your new haircut." He goes, "Yeah, I know. C'mon  in.

You look awfully good yourself although you need a haircut." He closes the
door behind me, saying, "I'll do a haircut for you." I'm like, "Hmmm, I seem
to  recall you didn't do a real good job cutting your roommates hair." He
laughs,  "Yeah, I almost pissed my pants laughing at that." I go, "So, when you
 heading home?" He picks up a paper from his computer, reading from it, he
says,  "Um, oh here it is. I'm on flight 452 leaving Logan at four-thirty
and  arriving at Philadelphia International Airport at six-forty." I ask, "Do
you  need a ride to the airport?" He shakes his head, "I'm getting an early
ride to Logan with  Gene Mullins around two o'clock I think. I'll need to
kill some time at the  airport, but I'd rather be there early. How about
you?" I flop oh his unmade  bed, saying, "I'm not going home until tomorrow.

Driving home with my  brother, um, sometime early afternoon probably."

I ask,  "How'd you do with your final exams?" Pony flops on the bed next to
me and  almost falls off because it's only a twin bed. I grab him and he
ends up  partially on top of me looking down at me. He goes, "I didn't ace any
of them,  but I'm not worried about flunking any of them either. I did okay
I guess." I  mumble, "Don't settle for being an average student, Pony. Rob
and I have a GPA  over 3.0." He mutters, "Brown noser," then, "Hey, I bought
a Christmas  present for you, Dylan. Did you get me anything?" I chuckle,
"Um, no. I wasn't  aware we were exchanging gifts. How 'bout I give you  a
twenty-dollar bill?"  He laughs and messes my hair. Damn, he's a cute guy!
When he  sees I'm not responding to him messing-up my hair, he goes, "Keep
your twenty  bucks and buy me something for when we're back here in
January." I go, "Sure,"  and he leans over the side of the bed fishing around under
it with his hand and  comes up with a slim box about a foot long and four
inches wide. It's  wrapped in holiday paper with little white reindeer all
over the  red paper and a red stick-on bow in the center of the box. He gives
it to  me, saying, "Merry Christmas," and I say, "Handkerchiefs?" He goes,
"How'd you  guess? Yeah, they're handkerchiefs. You're the only person I know
who carries a  handkerchief in your back pocket at all times so I thought
it'd be the perfect  gift." I ask, "Do they have my initial on the corner of
each handkerchief?"  He chuckles and says, "Of course."

Grinning,  I rip off the paper and open the lid to look at my present. I
go, "You left the  price tag on," and he says, "Well yeah, that's so you'd
know I didn't  buy you cheap ones." I say, "Thank you, Pony, but the sales tag
is for  pajamas, $39.99, not handkerchiefs." He goes, "Dammit, I didn't
think you'd  look that closely. Yeah, I took the price tag off a pair of
pajamas." I go,  "Well then, how much did you pay for the handkerchiefs? I mean, I
need to know  how much to spend on your present." He laughs out loud, then
says, "$9.99 on  sale at Macy's." I say, "Everything's on sale at Macy's,"

and he goes,  "Yeah, that's why I went there." I'm nodding my head grinning
because  Pony's a lot of fun.

Putting  the gift on the desk chair that's two feet from the bed, I ask,
"Shall we have  some buddy sex?" Laying right next to me on the bed, up on his
elbow looking  down on me, Pony leans his head down and gives me a
ten-second wet kiss on  the lips. Then lifts his head and stares in my eyes. I say,
"We're not lovers,  ya know." Pony shrugs, "Not yet we're not, but I'm
making that my project for  the second semester. Tell me something that sort of
annoys you about your  current boyfriend." I ask, "Why?" and he goes, "So
I'll know not to do  that, whatever it is." I laugh and reach up rubbing his
head  and mussing his hair in retaliation. He gets off the bed, "Hey! Dammit,
don't do that. I look fucking cute with this haircut," and he combs it back
in  place.

Getting  off the bed I give him a hug from behind, murmuring, "Thanks for
my  Christmas present, Pony." His body gets loose as he lies back against me
and I say in his ear, "Let's get  naked." He's like, "Okay," and drops his
jeans without moving away from me.  I go, "If I step back you're gonna fall
on your ass." He pulls down his  jockey shorts, muttering, "Well don't step
back then." I didn't used to  think he had a personal scent, but he does. I
noticed it six or seven weeks  ago and I like it so I give his neck a kiss
and inhale a little bit of Daryl's  scent. He goes, "That was nice, but I
need a spanking more than a kiss," and he  leans away from me with his hands on
the desk and his bare ass sticking up as he  looks back at me.

It  makes me thing of John Smith spanking my ass and how that gives John a
boner.  Spanking Pony doesn't give me a boner but it gives him one. He says,
"And don't  stop when I tell you to. Keep right on spanking my ass." I'm
still fully dressed  as I push his shirt up on his back a little, then give
his ass a  swipe. His ass is a really good one. Two pink plump hairless mounds
 that look as though you could squeeze them but his butt cheeks are taut,
very  tight. I ask, "Do you have that paddle around?" He goes, "No! Not the
paddle,  use your hand." Standing right next to Pony I whack on his ass with
the palm of  my hand. "Smacksmacksmack," for about a minute before his hand
comes back trying  to block my spanking-hand. He goes, "Ow, ow,ow! That's
enough," but I grin and  give him a few more smacks. Out of the side of my
left eye there's motion.  Turning my head, I see he's jerking off like mad. His
back arches and he goes,  "Ahhhh, mmm!" and I hear his stream of cum
splatter against the front of  the desk.

Moving  away from him, I ask, "What the fuck was that?" He straightens up,
still pulling  on his boner. Red in the face, he does an embarrassed snort
of  a laugh, mumbling, "I could help it. You spank good." A milky white cum
bubble is at his piss slit for a second, but with the next stroke down of
his fist it disappears. Smeared on his hand I assume. I'm shaking my head
chuckling at the expression on his face. My chuckling makes him laugh, then he
 asks, "Why the fuck when I'm with you do I feel like I'm fifteen again?
You make me say and do dumb-ass things... fuck!" I go, "It's because  I'm so
mature; that's why you feel fifteen." He goes, "Riiiiight!" Then he
stretches out his now limp dick making it longer than it is, asking, "Would a
twenty-year-old guy do this." I mutter, "Apparently," and he snickers, then
says, "Now you'll need to hang-out with me until my balls churn up some more
spunk for you to fuck out of me." I'd really like to suck that dick of his,
but  instead I'm like, "Pull up your pants, Pony."

He  pulls his underwear up, then his jeans as he points to the  streak of
cum-wetness on the drawers of his desk, saying, "I'm letting that dry  as a
memento of the first time I climaxed while being spanked as I was
jacking-off." Jesus! I chuckle,  "You're nuts, Pony." He holds out his hand, "Ya wanna
taste of my cum?"  There wetness around his thumb and forefinger. I just
give him a 'look' and  he goes, "No, huh?" and wipes his hand on a tissue.

Glancing  at my wristwatch: it's ten-of-twelve. I expect to  see Robby
between twelve and twelve-thirty so I gotta get going.  I give Daryl a hug,
saying, "I'm really sorry, Pony, but I need to go.  We'll talk over the break
and maybe you can visit me. You live  in Norristown, Pennsylvania, right?" He
nods his head and I say,  "Well, that's about a six-hour-drive to
Framingham." He hugs back, "Don't  go! We still need to have buddy-sex." I say, "Rob's
coming back any minute now.  He's been working at home most of the last few
days. I want to be  there when he walks in the door." He nods, mumbling,
"Yeah, okay. I  should have texted you earlier so we'd have more time
together.  And I'm seriously taking you up on visiting during break." I give him  a
good kiss on the lips, and say. "Yeah, let's get  together. Maybe meet
half-way and sleep over in some hotel  or something." He nods, "Awesome. I'll nag
you to keep your promise." I go,  "For chrissakes, you won't need to nag
me," then I'm like, "Where's my present?"  He hands it to me off the desk
chair, saying, "Lucky I didn't spunk all  over these hankies." Chuckling, I take
my 'hankies', pat his shoulder giving him  a smile, then I'm out the door a
little surprised he didn't make a bigger fuss  about me leaving. I think he
was really embarrassed about jerking off and  he's probably got packing to
do, plus grab lunch in the dining hall and...  whatever else between now and
two o'clock.

Parking  the Jeep at our apartment's lot I see Rob's pickup. Damn! He got
here  quicker than I expected. I jog to the back door and key in the code;
then, going  up the back stairs I get this funny feeling in the pit of my
stomach. No, it's  lower, closer to my nuts. I'm excited and nervous at the same
time. Nothing  wrong with being excited to see him, but why the
nervousness? Recently I get all  gooey with love and admiration for Rob. He's so, um,
so something special. I  can't describe it. I guess it's love, plain and
simple although it  feels like more.

I have  my key out before I reach the door but I don't need it because
Robby opens the  door, murmuring, "Dylan, where ya been?" We're in each other
arms just hugging  as we step inside and let the door close and lock on its
own  behind us. He smells like my Robby alright, but the quick glance I had of
him  was wrong somehow. We kiss hungrily and my hand goes up the back of
his  head and... what? Startled I pull my head back to look at him and Robby
blushes, like he often does. Shaking his head like he wishes it weren't
true, he says, "It was a complete fuck-up, Dylan." He has this really short
haircut that looks terrible. I'm like, "What the...?" He rubs his fingers
through his short hair saying, "I was almost home Wednesday afternoon when I
saw  a barber poll driving down Main Street in Framingham and I thought...

haircut!  My dad would be very disappointed if I went to work looking like I
did.  Hell, when we worked that week about a month ago he gave subtle hints I
needed  to get a haircut back then!"

We let  go of each other with me muttering, "I would have loved giving you
a haircut  before you left." He grimaces, saying, "Oh fuck! I know and I
wish to  hell I'd have thought about it. Why didn't you say something? You know
how my  dad is about," and he bends the middle and index fingers of both
hands making  'air quotes' saying, "professional appearance." I'm still like
frowning at his hair, mumbling, "But why...?" and Rob goes. "It's all fucked
up.  I stopped at that barbershop, one I've never been in before, and the
barber was  this old Hispanic guy who didn't speak much English. There was  a
communication-gap and he's  using these big clippers as all this hair is
rolling down the cape. I was  pissed, but what's the use of saying anything
after he's already started. Plus,  I don't think he speaks much English. It
was ten minutes of clippers  buzzing and my hair falling and then he just
stopped, took off the cape and said  something in Spanish." I'm nodding my head,
then shrugging, I go,  "Yeah, you got butchered alright. Makes Golden's
hideous assembly-line  haircuts look good."

Neither  of us knows what to say next; what can you say? Rob runs his hand
up the back of  his head and over the top. His haircut is hard to describe
other than it  looks like an inexperienced home-haircut a mother might give
her five-year-old  son. It's very short, but when the barber changed guides
for the clippers  from say the quarter inch guide on the side to the half
inch guide there's a  ridge all around Rob's head showing the difference
between a quarter  inch and a half inch. The crown of his head is  all
one-third-inch-short bristles then abruptly the hair next to it is  an inch-and-a half
long then abruptly again the bangs are about three  inches long. None of the
different lengths of hair should be on the same head.  It's comical
actually. No professional barber would cut hair like  that.

Rob  looks so embarrassed I try not to, but burst out with a laugh, then
say, "No,  I'm sorry, but I mean... Jesus!" He goes, "Please don't laugh,
Dylan. I had  to go straight to work where I needed to tell the story of the
Spanish-speaking barber to about twenty people; same story twenty times.  And
I don't think they believed me at first. My father was gruff with me
telling me he didn't find it funny at all. As if I got this fucked-up  haircut on
purpose... like it was my fault. " His father can be such  an asshole to
Robby. Incredulously, I ask, "What'd the people  at work say?" He goes, "When I
convinced them of what happened most of them  felt sorry for me. Then when
I got home my mom initially thought you did  it." I go, "What? Me? She's
seen the haircuts I've been giving you for three  years! What'd she think, I
lost my mind all of a sudden?" He rubs my shoulder,  "Don't be mad, Dylan. I
told them what happened. Um, can you do something with  my hair?"

His  dumb-ass parents are starting to creep me out! I know they aren't
going to like  it when Rob tells them we're getting married but tough shit
folks! In-laws  blow anyway. Nodding my head, I go, "Yeah, of course I can at
least improve  on it, Rob." And that's the first thing we do... fix Robby's
haircut. Damn, I  would have loved cutting all that hair off his head. It  was
four-to-five-inches long on top like mine. After I've evened-out  the
different lengths, I cut the bangs way down to match the other hairs on top  of
his head. Nothing I can do about the bristly short hairs at the crown. They
stick up way too short to lie over. Ironically when I finish Rob's haircut
it's very much like the last haircut I gave Pony. Comb the hair forward on
top and flip up the bangs. Pony calls it the middle-school-haircut and mostly
it  is a haircut for young guys. I've seen men in their thirties on TV with
it  though.

Like I  said, there's nothing I can do about the hairs sticking up at the
back of the  top so in that regard Pony's haircut is better than Rob's.

Still, everything considered Robby's hair looks okay and a hundred  times better
than it did when he walked in here. Finished, I say, "Jesus,  Robby, you
look good enough to eat." He looks in the mirror over the sofa  grinning,
saying, "A trip down memory lane with this style haircut, huh?"  Hugging him, I
go, "Yep, but I like you with short hair anyway." Mostly I'm just  trying to
make him feel better. With my arms around Robby we're looking at  our
reflection in the mirror. I remember we did this before he  left when we both had
a mop of hair on our heads and now my mop looks  even bigger compared to
Robby's short hair. He's clean shaven again but he  still looks handsomely
cute and sexy to me.

Robby  murmurs, "Thank you, baby," and hugs me back and we just naturally
get into  a lover's make-out. Slow deep luscious candy-kisses that are so
sweet. I  like running my fingers up the back of his head feeling his bristly
short hair. It's been some time since his hair was this short. The very
short  hairs at the crown of his head that stick-up feel odd and look odder. Our
 lover's make-out goes on dreamily for a while but all of our make-outs
have a  way of turning into hot passionate kisses when sexual arousal and
desire  raise the sexual heat between us. Our penises get harder and harder until
 Rob gasps, "I need you so badly, Dylan," and he pulls at my pants. I push
his hands away and have my pants down in three seconds. My boner bounces
when we  bump together in my haste to turn my back to Rob. He's got his  jeans
unbuttoned and the zipper down with his boner sticking out  through the
opening in his boxer shorts. The head's wet with precum and  then I watch a new
bubble of precum appear. Rob presses the head of  his cock against my
asshole smearing the precum. My head is looking  straight ahead now as I'm
waiting for the thrill of having his cock up  my ass.

Another  gasp of desire from Robby and, "Aaaah!" when his fat boner pushes
past my  sphincter muscle with precum partially smoothing the way. Oh, his
fat cock  feels so familiar it makes my shoulders shudder. This is the cock
my body  responds to best.  There's some pain around my stretched anus but
it's no problem at  all because I know from past sex with Rob how temporary
the pain of initial  entry is. I can predict within five seconds when the pain
will morph into  glowing sexual pleasure as the abundant nerve endings
there begin singing  their sexual pleasure-song making me moan at the
indescribable pleasure  sensations. Robby's arms are around the front of my stomach
just below my belly  button and his hot moist breath is coming out in short
bursts dampening the back  of my neck. He kisses the side of my neck then his
tongue goes all over my ear  lifting my earring before the tip of his tongue
goes into my ear. His scent  and the familiar feel of his strong arms gives
me goosebumps and  shivers down my back. Tears in my eyes because  I'm so
in love with him and we're together again.

Robby  goes, "Ummm," and thrusts more  of his boner up my ass with new pain
screaming for a few seconds as  the fat head spread the walls of my rectum.

Another thrust and his crotch is  tight against my ass as he humps hard
against me while squeezing me with his  arms and murmuring in my ear, "I love
you so much, baby," and another hard hump  against my butt cheeks. A deep
inhale from Rob as he pulls his cock back  and then drives it all the way back
in making a whining sound before  beginning a fast rabbit fuck, and we hear,
"Slapslapslapslap," sounds for  two or three minutes with me going, "Ooh,
ooh, ooh, ooh, Rob, Rob, Rob,  Ooooh," and  then, "Eeeeeiii," with cum
shooting up from my quivering cock. It flies in an  arc to land four feet away.

Gasping and humping my hips sends three  more spurts of cum out and I'm dizzy
with the spectacular fireworks going  off behind my eyes as Robby's bending
me forward and leans against  my back while humping my buttocks and shooting
a long string of creamy cum up my  ass, then again as he's making gasping
breathy sounds. A last hard hump  against me lifts me up on my  toes and then
we both sigh and our bodies go limp.

Rob  hugs me so tightly I can't breathe for a  few seconds, then he lets go
and backs up pulling his softening cock from  my ass making a wet, "Splip,"

sound. Lots of his cum runs out of my ass and down  the inside of my left
thigh. Robby's two feet away bent over with his hands on  his knees taking a
few deep breaths, then he murmurs, "Having sex with you,  Dylan, makes any
other sex I've ever had in my life pale by comparison.  Side-sex is like
watching previews at the movies while waiting for the  main attraction to happen
and, Dylan baby, you're my main attraction and  nothing else even comes
close." I murmur, "Ditto, Rob," and he gives me his  awesome grin, repeating,
"Ditto."

We go  into the bathroom to clean-up a little with Rob doing most of the
cleaning-up on my ass and the back of my legs. We're both chipper and chatty
now, happy to be back where we want to be... together. As he's drying my
now  clean ass with a hand towel, he says, "You're so special,  Dylan. I was
worried you'd be royally pissed-off at me for my haircut  disaster knowing
how you like cutting my hair and all. Plus the fucking-up  I've been doing
insisting Golden be our barber and  all those screw-ups. Instead of being
pissed-off though you couldn't  keep from blurting out a laugh." I say, "I was
more shocked than anything, Rob,  and then I felt bad for you imagining how
you must have felt going to work  like that." He mutters, "Humiliation just
doesn't cover all my emotions  that first afternoon."

Walking  back to the living room, he goes, "I was so upset and embarrassed
I tried blaming it on you at first because you're in-charge of haircutting,
 but I had to admit to myself that it's all my fault, not yours." I go,
"Yeah, because you took charge of our haircuts by insisting we get  Golden's
stupid ones, and now you see where that got you." He smirks, "I  hope you're
not gloating about it, but I do see your point. It got me  in a Spanish
barbershop with a barber who must have a hair up his ass about  us Gringos." I
laugh, then get serious, "Jesus, do you think he  did it on purpose?" Rob
shrugs, "Yes, the more I thought about it that's the  only conclusion I could
come to. There was a lot of Spanish being spoken  with many grins from the
other barber during my haircut, so yeah he  intentionally fucked me up. He
didn't even seem to know how the guides went  on the clippers" He's right that
no barber would do a haircut like that  one. I go, "Holy shit, that's
terrible!" He nods, "It was, but what was I  going to do about it? Throw a brick
through the plate-glass window?" I say,  "Yeah, you should have." He says,
"Nah, I have this thing about not making a bad  situation worse." Huh, Chubby
and I don't have that 'thing' Robby's got. If we  can't get justice, we
settle for revenge. I say, "Now that I think about it,  I'll bet he wasn't even
the barber. He was probably the barber's friend there in  the barbershop
shooting the shit, and when you walked in he said in Spanish,  something like,
"Let me pretend to be the barber," or some such shit. What  incredible
assholes!" Rob nods his head, "You know, I think you're right because  the first
guy started to get up, probably the real barber, but the other  guy put up
his hands and spoke in Spanish. They had this smirk on their old  faces too."

Holy  shit, what pricks! Picking up the comb, I re-do Rob's hair, saying,
"When  you see your parents this afternoon don't forget to mention to them
that this is  the professional way I cut your hair. I cannot believe they
thought I'd  give you a haircut like you went home with." He says, "They don't
know a thing  about haircutting, babe. All they care about is if it's neat or
not. Christ, my  father's had that same boring short-regular haircut all my
life." To change the  subject, I ask, "Did you get to review for your
final?" He shrugs, "A  little, but I already know this stuff." Nodding, I'm like,
"Um, what about  this Greg Peters character?" Rob smiles, "He's not a
character. He's a good guy.  Jeez, we had a little something going on between us
way back as teenagers. It  was a couple of years before I was ogling you in
high school." Yeah, sometimes  I forget that Robby's been actively gay,
starting with Dodger, way  longer than me.

He's  checking his backpack as I go, "Um, did you have a good time with,
um,  what's-his-name,  Greg?" Rob goes, "Huh?" then he lifts my wrist, looks
at my watch and  says, "Holy shit! I gotta go... my exam's in ten minutes,"

and he kisses  me, adding, "I'm sorry to say I need to leave for home right
after the  exam, but Saturday night, tomorrow night, we have a date, okay?" I
nod, and he  says, "I'm taking you out to dinner and then can I spend the
night at your  place?" I go, "Absolutely, Rob," and he says, "Thanks, Dylan.

And we need to  talk about you working for me next week, then if you insist
I'll answer  any questions you have about Greg, although you and I are not
supposed to  talk about that stuff. I'll call you Saturday." I'm nodding my
head,  mumbling "Sure." Robby puts on his coat and hangs his backpack over
one  shoulder, saying, "I love you so much." Another quick kiss and he's on
his  way. Huh, he told me all I need to know about Greg Peters by saying we
don't  talk about that stuff.

I'm  lying on the sofa again thinking about Rob, naturally. Wow, what a
fucked-up  experience he had at that barbershop. Dammit though, I would have
loved having  all Robby's hair to cut, but instead that asshole non-barber
got to cut most of it off Rob's head. Then there's Rob and that Greg  kid. I
wonder what the guy looks like? I also wonder how many Greg Peters there  are
in Rob's past, not that I haven't had a couple of dozen or so in my past.

Yeah, heh heh, and I've had three or four less years than Robby to
accumulate guys from my past. Rob started early as a teen and it's odd I  never
picked-up a gay vibe from the shy Rob Dickers I was smitten with  in my junior
year at Framingham High. Jeez, to be able to go back and be  seventeen again
and know what I know now! Pipe-dreams anyone?
Now I'm  back to reading my John Sanford mystery book as I'm lying on the
sofa. Then  the next thing I know I wake-up a couple hours later with the
book on the floor.  Oh great I fell asleep. Actually I'm happy about that
because who knows how late  the party will go tonight. This two-hour nap  might
turn out to be a huge benefit. Picking up the book and rifling  through the
pages I'm trying to remember the last page I read; then,  giving up on that I
take a shower. After the shower I'm combing through my  long hair trying to
decide how it looks best. The way it's grown out  the last eight or nine
weeks looks strange because the sides  were originally cut to a half-inch by
Golden, but the top hasn't been cut  since my last haircut with Ryan. Yeah,
Ryan. I wasn't too nice to him this  morning so, forgetting about my hair, I
get my cellphone out and text Ryan,  'Sorry I was so bitchy today, Ryan.

Let's be friends again.' I don't  expect a reply, but I feel a lot better
leaving that text on a positive note.  Then he does text back: No I don't forgive
you. You had your chance with me  and you blew it. Do not text me again!'
What an asshole!!  Good riddance!
That  puts me in a bad mood. He definitely doesn't need to worry about me
texting  him again. Dammit! Why couldn't we part as friends after everything
we've  been through together. My fucking feelings are really hurt. What'd I
ever do to  deserve that email from him? I'm really pissed at that. Then I
hear the  'bing' of another text. I grab my cellphone hoping it's from Ryan
with  an apology. No though, it's from John Smith: 'I just got home. I'll  be
at your place around six.' Oh, yeah, that's right... Worcester. I  text him
back that I'll see him then.

Huh,  guess I should pack something, but what? Calling John, I ask what
kinda clothes  I should bring and he tells me it's sport jacket and tie for the
party. Balls!  Well I just happen to have a new sports jacket from working
for Robby.  Looking closely at my blue sports coat and tan khakis hanging in
 the bedroom closet, I decide to try ironing then a little. By the time I
do  that, then put some other casual clothes in my satchel it's after  six
o'clock. I'm back to fucking with my hair finally settling on hair gel  and
combing it with a part and the sides combed back. I'm not sure what I  look
like with this hairdo but I don't know what else to do with  it.

The  buzzer buzzes at twenty-after-six. I buzz John in and figure I'm ready
to go  although I'm positive I'm forgetting something. Looking at myself in
the  mirror again I don't feel like me; not with the way I combed my hair.

There's a  knock at the door so I go over an open it. John's all smiles and
looking preppy  with his burr haircut. His awesome blue eyes stare into
mine, as he asks, "Ready  to go?" I nod, "Yeah, but c'mon in for a second." The
door closes behind him, as  I ask, "How do I look?" He says, "Beautiful,
cute, handsome; all of the above."  I go, "Thank you, John, but I meant my
hair." He shrugs, "Nice, it's nice." I'm  like, "Really?" and he says, "Well
actually your hairdo doesn't go with you  somehow. But it's nice hair and I
already told you I'd change hair with you  in a second if it were possible."

He's right, my hair doesn't go with me,  but why doesn't it. I think it's
because I'm used to short hair although John's  only seen me with this long wavy
hair and he doesn't think it's right  for me. I'm still looking in the
mirror pushing at the small pompadour  in front, so John goes, "I'm sort of all
talked-out, hair-wise, Dylan. That  might be the most I've ever had to say
about anyone's hair." I go, "Yeah, okay.  What do you think of my sports coat
and tan khakis?" He chuckles, "I think we'll  be dressed alike at the
party. That's exactly the outfit I brought with me right  down to the brass
buttons on your sports coat." I'm like, "Well it's the only  one I got so let's
go, twin. Born on the same day, so no wonder we  dress alike."

John  carries my satchel while I've got my sports coat, white dress shirt,
tie, and pants on a hanger. At the parking lot he hands me my satchel,
asking, "Where are you parked? I'll get my stuff and meet you there." I point
at  the Jeep and then go over and put my stuff in the backseat and fire up
the engine. It's an hour and ten-minute drive to  Worcester mostly at high
speed on route 495 until we connect with  route 290 that takes into the city.

John's not much for starting conversations  so mostly I ask questions and he
answers. He tells me he lives at home  because he doesn't make enough money
to get his own place but  he's saving up to do that. He pays his mom $75.00
a week for room and  board, he attends St. Augustine church every Sunday,
he's never been on a  date with a girl, and I'm his first date with a guy. He
has two brothers and a  sister who all get along just fine. He's full of
compliments for me  and really seems like a sweet guy the longer I get to know
him.

I asked  about that guy, Chester, who John didn't want me to meet at the
bar.  He explains it's his boss, Chester Mulroney. Some weird shit happened
with him. For one thing they unknowingly were both at the town's Fourth of
July  celebration last year and after the fireworks in a bizarre coincidence
Chester just happened to be walking by John's car with his fiancé  when he
saw John fucking this guy in the back seat of John's car. Hugely
embarrassing but the next day at work Chester had a heart to heart talk with  John
saying it was no big deal. A person's sexuality is his own business  and he let
it go at that. Then an even more bizarre coincidence when both  guys were at
the reservoir necking and fucking without knowing the other was  there.

Chester was out smoking a cigarette after probably having  sex with his
girlfriend when he again spots John fucking a guy in his old  Chevy. It was the
same guy John fucked after the fireworks although Chester  didn't know that.

Next day at work Chester doesn't even bring it up. John says,  "That's why I
told you Chester would probably think I'm fucking you if you came  over to me
in the bar that first time we met for lunch. He caught me  fucking twice,
five months apart, and those two times were the only sex I had in  those five
months. Chester probably thinks I'm the gay stud in the neighborhood
because every time he sees me outside of work I'm fucking some guy." I go,  "That
is bizarre."

John  confirms that his last success with gays in the bar prior to me  was
three months ago and it was with a thirty-something guy  who more or less
came on to John. That's three of the seven successful sex episodes he's had
since the tenth grade. There was a guy at mechanic school who John had  some
drinks with at the guy's   apartment and after a while they admitted to
each other they wouldn't mind  screwing, and they had sex with John 'topping',
but just that one time. Two  years later they ran into each other and did it
in the guy's delivery truck. He  dropped out of mechanic's school and was a
driver for UPS. The last guy  John had sex with was an  older stranger at a
gay bar in Boston who John fucked in the  bar's lavatory. He goes, "So I
haven't been lucky  at all, not until I met you. How about your experiences,
Dylan?" That's the  first question he asked me and I tell him an abbreviated
versions  of fat Carl, then a little about Willie, and finally me and Rob.

No  point in making him feel bad by mentioning how lucky I've been with
side-sex. Even without knowing about my random side-sex John says, from  the
limited amount I told him about that I've been very lucky and  I heartily agree
with him. The second, and last question from him was,  "Um, not that it's
any of my business, but you're in love with this guy,  Rob, yet you have sex
with me and even go away overnight with me." I explain  about our partially
open relationship and admit that  for ninety-ninety couples out of a hundred
it wouldn't work,  except it's worked for us these past three-plus years,
blah, blah, blah.... And  by now we're at the hotel's parking garage,
At  the registration desk they can't find John's reservation but then
realize it was entered in the computer using 'John' as the last name. It's
seven-thirty when we're going into our room and immediately John  says,
"Goddammit! I specifically asked for a room with two double beds." I  shrug, kinda
happy at the queen-size bed mix-up, but  say, "Call the desk and ask for a
room change." He shrugs, then  he's hemming and hawing until he admits, "I
freeze-up at confrontation  like that, Dylan." I go, "Hell, I'll call," and I
do pretending to be John  Smith. I haggle with two people and raising my
voice as I get more and  more pissed-off at the fact they will not correct a
mistake they made. Finally,  an assistant manager apologizes, but he can't do
anything about the mix-up  because the hotel is fully booked. What he'll do
though, "And I'm doing it  right now, Mr. Smith, is discounting your room
charge by fifty percent." I go,  Thank you," and hang-up.

I tell  John, "That's the best we can do as far as the room goes." He
shrugs  and mumbles, "Hey, you saved me like a hundred bucks!" I nod, "Good!" and
in a  resigned tone of voice, he mutters, "Guess I'm forced to find out
what it's  like sleeping with someone for the first time in my life." I go,
"Jeez,  don't worrying about hurting my feelings or anything, John. I'll make
sure to  shower and use mouthwash." He goes, "No, I'm sorry. I've never slept
with anyone  before that's all I'm saying. I'm glad it's you, Dylan." I
don't have anything  to say to that, so John goes, "How about we get naked and
I fuck you?" I'm like,  "Sure, that'd be good."

We get  undressed; then, looking at each other, he says, "I'm glad to sleep
with  you, really." I say, "Okay." Both of us are completely naked just
standing here  looking at each other until John reaches over with both hands
and rubs across my shoulders then down the outside of my arms, murmuring,
"You've got an awesome body! I wish I had your body, and your penis." I go,
"You  have a great penis," and he says, "I wish it was four or five inches
longer,"  and he looks at me with those amazing multi-shades-of-blue eyes,
grinning, "And  I'll bet you do too." I chuckle, "Your boner is perfect for my
rectum."

Our  eyes meet for a few seconds more, then he says, "Stay on your feet,
but turn  around facing the bed and lie your head and chest on the bed. Go on,
 do that." I do it and he says, "Your ass is too high," and he spreads my
legs,  "There, perfect height. Now push your ass out a little towards me." I
do  that and he says, "Good, hold it there." He stands at my side  facing
away from the bed and starts spanking me hard. I scrunch up my face and  bare
it. I don't usually get aroused by being spanked like Pony does,  but I do
feel my dick firming up. It's a long minute of being  spanked, "Smack, smack,
smack, smack," until I'm like, "OW! That's enough,  John. "Smack smack!"

"OW! Goddammit!" He says, "Just a couple more. I wanna  get both butt cheeks
bright pink." I'm grunting through those last few  smacks then he stops and
faces the bed, muttering, "Nice, really nice," and  he reaches between my
spread legs and wraps his fist around my firmed-up cock,  saying, "You were
complaining, but you've got a fairly hard cock so what am  I to think?" He
laughs lightly, mumbling, "We both got hard cocks," and he rubs  the head of his
across my smacked ass, then spanks me for another fifteen  seconds saying,
"This is for lying. You got aroused the same as me, "Smack,  smack, smack,"

"John, that really stings, please." He has his hand around  both my wrist
holding them away when I reached back to block his  smacks. "Smack,  slack,"

and he laughs, saying, "I'm gonna cum if I keep spanking your ass," and  he
lets go of my wrists.

I'm rubbing  my ass thinking how I did get turned-on the way he did that.

This is encouraging  and the stinging is already fading. Even though I
complained about it I did feel  some sense of submissiveness towards John which is
what gave me  the semi-boner. That submissive sense fades away when he sits
on the bed  next to me with a hand rubbing my back, asking, "Did I spank
you too hard? I  mean, if I overdo it  a little I hope you'll let it slide."

He leans down close to my face and  says, "Okay?" and for the hell of it, I
ask, "How many fucking  freckles do you have on your face anyway?" He laughs
out loud, then says, "You  prick! I'm self-conscious about my freckles." I'm
grinning, "That was terrible  of me, John. Anyway I like your freckles and
I especially liked doing that  haircut for you yesterday." He nods, "You're
okay, Dylan. Now tell me though:  are we on the same page with the
spanking?" I go, "You decide on the spanking.  You're the dom." He goes, "Dom? Oh,
you're talking about submissive/dominant  sex, huh?" I nod, and he goes,
"That's not what we're doing; you and me. I'm the  'top' and you're the 'bottom'
because we both prefer those positions. We're  sharing sexual pleasure that
you call buddy-sex, and I like that term. I gotta  say I've never enjoyed
doing it even half as much as I enjoy it with  you. There, so now you know how
I feel about it. Oh, and I spank you  because we both like it. It adds to
our arousal, right?" I go, "If you say  so."

He gets  off the bed and grabs a condom, saying, "You bought the last three
condoms so  we'll use mine now, but you buy the condoms next week." I
mumble, "You really  should have been an accountant." He chuckles, then mutters,
"You  already told me that." I ask, "Should I stay like this or was this
position  just for the spanking part?" He shakes his head, "No, I'm gonna fuck
you just like you are now." He rolls a condom on his fairly hard cock and
comes over, his firm cock listing to the side and smacks my ass, "SMACK!"

Damn, I got that tiny submissive sense back with that one smack. He gets a
hand on each of my hips pulling my ass out, saying, "Keep your ass the  way
it was for your spanking." I push it out as much as I can, and he  murmurs,
"Yeah, like that. Good." The nipple at the end of the condom rubs up my  ass
crack as John guides the head to my asshole. He humps it in grunting, "Ummm,
 fuck that feels good," and he drags his hands down my back and grips my
butt  cheeks, asking, "Not to get too personal, but do you think your
boyfriend is  having enough sex with you?" I go, "We do it a lot," and he says, "I
only ask  because your sphincter is so fucking tight. Maybe I'm wrong about
you being a  bottom all the time. Are you mostly a 'top' with your
boyfriend?" I go,  "Nope, you were right the first time. I like to 'bottom' and Rob
mostly accommodates me, although I do 'top' occasionally with  him."

John  mumbles, "Well you're really tight back here and it feels fantastic,"

then he  pushes his boner slowly up my ass. My cock was getting on the limp
side but  firms up again quickly. When his pubic hair begins tickling  my
buttock John does a last hard hump and he's tight against my ass doing some
grinding, then, "Smack!" on the side of my ass again. Well, I did tell him
he's  in charge of the spanking. There's no more talking now that we're both
feeling sexual arousal as that deserves our undivided attention. He does
four or  five deliberate steady full thrusts with that extra hump at the end.

He  fully impaling me and then does an extra hard hump. That finally extra
hard  hump jerks my rectum up and gives me the sense he's a dominant fucker.

Of  course he claims otherwise. Another "Smack!" on the side of my ass and
he goes  into a full minute of fast hard fucking, "Slapslapslapslap," and I'm
groveling  on the bed moaning, "Ooh, ooh, oooh, ummm." John goes, "Oh God
this feels good,"  "Slapslapslap," then he stops. While breathing hard he
does those deliberate  thrusts with one last extra hard hump. Six or seven of
those with my  prostate screaming out sexual pleasure and my stretched anus
sending  out sizzling pleasure vibrations. I'm moving my head and moaning
because  John fucks me really good.

He  stops and lets out a lot of air with a big exhale, then reaches between
my legs  and grabs my rock-hard cock and strokes it as he begins steady
thrusting hard  enough that I'm going up on my toes with each deliberate
thrust. I'm moaning at  each thrust, "Aaaah, aaah, aah, John... I'm gonna cum,
ooooh," and then,  Eeeeeiiii," as he strokes and fucks a hard stream of cum
from my nuts. It comes  flying out the gaping piss slit with force burning a
little, then again and I'm  up on my toes as scintillating sensations spike
all around my groin with my  entire rectum full of dazzling sensations of pure
pleasure that crescendos at  about the five second mark and then fades as
my stiff-as-a-board body quickly  becomes limp and I shudder all over sighing
with contentment. John lets go of my  cock, lying against my buttocks
grunting and humping and I assume filling  the condom with his youthful spunk,
then another grunt and another hump as  he finishes off his orgasm.

We're  both breathing deeply for thirty-seconds or so, his cock still up my
ass. Then  he gasps,  pushing himself up with both hands on my back and
fucks my ass really  hard for another minute before pulling out leaving me with
that feeling of  a gaping-open rectum. He turns around  and flops on the
bed landing on his back a foot away from me. I dropped to my  knees when he
pulled his cock out, my chest and head still on the bed. John's  feet are on
the floor as he lies on his back. We turn our heads to look at each  other.

He says, "That was a spectacular climax I just had. I was seriously  afraid
it broke the condom." I go, "Doesn't matter if it did. I wish you would  fuck
me bareback." I reach over and put my hand on his head, saying, "Hey
sailor, I like your haircut." He grins, "Funny you should say that. I  almost
joined the Navy out of high school. Did I tell you that before?" I shake  my
head, "Nope, but you'd make a cute sailor." He goes, "I'm not cute, and you
know it." I raise my eyebrows and try matching his matter-of-fact way of
saying  things, mumbling, "You're starting to look cute to me, John."

Surprised  he doesn't move his head away when I touch his hair a minute
ago, I do it again.  My fingers are feeling the short bristly hairs on the side
of his head as he  says, "You know, I've never been comfortable with
someone touching me like  you're doing." I say, "Too gay?" and he nods, "Yeah, too
queer, and like I told  you before someone who knows me could see you doing
it." I go, "And they'd  immediately think, oh John's queer. That doesn't
make any sense." He says,  "Before you interrupted me I was gonna say, but you
can touch me  if you want to. I'm beginning to like it because it's you." I
go, "Oh,  that's good to know. Anyway, I'm the opposite; I like to be
touched."

Our  heads are turned towards one another, as he asks, "Did I fuck you okay
just now?  I really want you to like it?" I say, "Dude, you fuck
excellently and I've told  you that before. You are one hot buddy-sex partner and I'm
glad I met ya!" He  grins, "And the spanking sets everything up so I'm gonna
keep doing it. Have you  ever been tied up? I'd love to do that to you." I
go, Tied up? Are you some kind  of sadist?" He shakes his head, "You know
I'm not. Just some safe fun and I'm  serious, I really care about doing it the
way you like it." I go, "Well you're  doing it the way I like it and maybe
you can tie me up something." He smirks,  "You know damn well you're getting
a long spanking tied-up. I've often wondered  and even fantasized about
spanking a guy until I climax." I go, "Dream on,  Sailor." But I honestly do
think John fucks really good. He  smiles, saying, "I feel like a fag staring
into your eyes like we've been doing  for the last two minutes." I mutter,
"Well, don't do it then." He goes, "You  don't make me feel like a fag though.

It seems like a natural thing having  sex with you, and then looking into
your eyes. Normally after screwing, sex is  the last thing I want to talk
about." I go, "I've noticed that."

He  shakes his head, going, "You're going to turn me into a homo if I'm not
careful.  I'm bisexual ya know." He's told me that before although he's
never had sex with  a girl, never been on a date with a girl. Still, he has the
right to think what  he wants. I get off the bed, asking, "Wanna take a
shower with me?" He looks at  me, "See what you're doing, Dylan. Tempting me to
come fully over to your side  of the street." I go, "No I'm not. I simply
asked if you want to shower with  me." He says, "Um, yes, I want to, but I'm
not going to." I pat his shoulder,  "Okay, my feelings are only a little
hurt. I'll take a fast shower so  you'll have time for one." Walking in the
bathroom naked, I turn on the shower  and then look at the toiletry items
provided by the  hotel. Not bad. Taking the shampoo and conditioner with me, I
open the shower  stall door and get under the water flow, turning around
getting wet  all over.

I'm  putting shampooing in my hair when the shower stall opens and, with a
red  blush on his face in-between his freckles, John says, "I don't want you
to think  I'm a prude," and he walks in as I step over giving him space. I
say, "I'll  shampoo your hair for you and then you do it for me," and I
squeeze some  shampoo on the top go his head. He makes a face, murmuring, "I
can't believe I'm  doing this."

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

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

Please consider a tax deductible donation of any size to
nonprofit Nifty to help with the expense of maintaining this ginormous
free story site. Thank you very much.

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html