Date: Sat, 6 May 2017 13:05:16 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE    Chapter  41

DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter  41

Donny Mumford


Our  Worcester hotel room's bathroom accommodations include an  over-sized
tub and a shower stall for two. John Smith and I are in the shower  stall
right now.  He was hesitant about taking a shower with me at  first, but
appears now to be quite comfortable with me shampooing his  red, burr-cut hair. I
don't suppose most people would notice something like  this, but John has a
nicely shaped head. It reminds me of Chubby's head  which I've always
considered the perfect shape for a head. From the boy-watching  days of my youth
I've noticed there's a surprising variety of head shapes and  sizes.

As I'm rubbing my  fingers through the shampoo bubbles on his scalp John's
eyes naturally  close and I take this opportunity to closely observe his
naked body. His ass is kinda flat, especially compared to Daryl's almost
perfect ass for a guy. As thin as John is there's subtle muscle definition
every place it should be. He's skinny but it's not like his ribs are showing. He
 has a slender frame meaning his bone structure is smaller, for example,
than  mine. John's taller than me but my shoulders are a good three-inches
wider that  his. His hands and feet look large but only because his arms and
legs  are thin. That's true but his bicep muscle in both arms make me think
he's  probably fairly strong. No hair on his torso and only short almost
invisible hairs on his arms although there are light-red curly hairs on his legs
 below his knees. Presently that hair is wet and so flat against his  legs.

After guiding his  head under the water to rinse off the shampoo I let go
of him  and he steps back wiping water from his eyes. He looks at me,
grinning  and mumbling, "That was a pleasant experience and a first for me. I
should  keep a list of all the firsts in my life since meeting you." I go,
"Widening  your horizons, huh?"  He laughs, "I'm widening something. Um, am I
supposed  to do your hair now?" I nod, smirking at him. Trying not to grin, he
mutters,  "Doesn't seem fair since you have a hundred times more hair on your
head than I  have on mine." I say, "Yeah, but I already put shampoo in my
hair so step one is  already done." Tentatively rubbing his fingers in my
hair, he goes, "Huh, this  isn't grossing me out as much as I thought it
would," and soon he's got the  fingers of both hands moving shampoo suds through
my hair. When he's  finally holding my head under the water flow he keeps a
controlling hand on the back of my neck as he laughs, muttering,  "Another
first for me."

Wiping my eyes, I go,  "Nice job, John." He shrugs, "It was kinda cool
getting my fingers in all that  hair of yours. I've never had anywhere near that
much hair on my head and  obviously I've never shampooed anyone's hair
before." Even when soaking wet the  hairs at the crown of his head still sticks
up because they're very short. I cut  them like that on purpose because I
like the feel of them. His haircut  makes John look very young and I have the
urge to hug him, but let it pass  and instead put bath gel on a washcloth,
saying, "Now I'm  gonna wash that hunky body of yours." He snorts out a
laugh, muttering, "And  then I do yours, and again I've gotta do a lot more work
than you." I say, "You  probably should close your eyes and mouth because
I'm washing your face  now."

As I'm doing that I'm  saying, "Maybe I've got more hair on my head and a
wider body, but  you're a mechanic so I need to scrub you harder where as I
require very  little bathing." Barely moving his lips, he grins and
sarcastically  says, "That doesn't hurt my feelings at all, ya prick." I chuckle and
squeeze his nose, "I'm fuckin' teasing you." He mumbles, "No shit." John's
definitely different during our 'date' than he is at the bar. I  mistakenly
thought he was super casual and matter-of-fact with everything.  That's how
he seemed the couple of times we had sex at the bar but I'm  seeing more of
his true personality now.

He has nicely shaped  ears with no piercings because he told me once that a
mechanic and  earrings don't go together. I disagree although it's no big
deal one way or the  other. He's standing here like a good boy as I guide his
head under the water  flow rinsing the bath gel while glancing at his cock
and balls. He was  right when he said I'd like it if his cock was four or
five inches longer.  Currently it's between five and five-and-a-half inches
long although it does  grow larger as it gets hard. It feels awesome in my ass
as it is but who  wouldn't want a ten or eleven-inch boner up their ass. He
holds his arms  out, saying, "Wash me, servant." Huh, he's quickly gotten
over his  hesitation about showering together. I wash each part of his body
methodically expecting scrubbing resistance when I get to his ass but
there's none... just a snicker from him.

Kneeling to wash his  feet and legs and then working my way up to his
privates. I wash his  junk with my hands. His hands go to the top of my head as
he grunts, then  snickers again as his cock begins getting hard. He laughs,
"Damn you,  Dylan, I've been doing everything I can think of to keep from
springing a  boner while you're washing me, but now with your hands slipping
and sliding on  my dick I give up." I'm sliding my bath-gel-slippery-hand up
and down his cock  grinning to myself as it gets harder and harder. He's
gripping my  shoulders grunting, "Okay, okay, it's a hard boner! Get on your
hands and  knees and I'll fuck you bareback."

Sounds good to me. I'm  already on my knees so I drop my hands down and
lift my ass. John gets behind me  with his hands on my hips. He's pushing the
head of his boner against my  asshole but with the water and no lube he's
having a hard time getting it in.  Finally, I'm like, "Yeah, it's difficult in
the water although most people don't  realize that," and I turn around and
lift up on my knees to take hold of his  boner. Looking up at him, I'm like,
"Let's go to plan B," and slip his hard  cock into my mouth. Both his hands
go to my head as John says, "Oh,  Jeeezus, how lucky can I get." I slurp on
his cock with him shuffling his feet  and then he holds my head down a
little forcing his boner into my  throat. His precum and my saliva help it slide
down my throat tightly  with me gagging but he keeps pushing it down my
throat. As scary and uncomfortable as it is for  a few seconds I'm glad that he
ignored my struggling  because that's what a dominant sex partner would do.

His boner grows  with each inch it goes down and he keeps pushing it until
his wet crotch and  pubic hairs are squished against my face. He humps
against my face a few times  before dragging his boner back up with me gagging
again. John ignores that while  he moans a long, "Ummmm," and then the swollen
head of his boner is  lying on my tongue and I inhale deeply... ah, oxygen.

He gives me a few  seconds then gets a hand on either side my head, his
fingers covering my  ears and his thumbs on my cheeks adjusting the position of
my head. His  hands feel strong holding my head at the angle he wants. I'm
looking up at him  trying to relax my throat muscles and now I'm definitely
feeling more than  a touch of submissiveness. John's tongue quickly licks
across his lips.  Then, looking very aroused he pushes his boner into my
throat again  and when it's all the way down he gets his hands behind my head and
pulls my  face fully into his crotch and holds it there. I feel dominated
now and close my  eyes totally relaxing and giving in to him.

John adjust his feet  and let's up on the  pressure at the back of my head
and then begins smooth four-inch thrusts  back and forth with the swollen
head of his boner pushing my Adam's  apple outward as it passes it going down
and then coming back up. His  hands keep my head where he wants it as his
hips move his cock tightly and  smoothly to and fro in a semi-fast rhythm. My
cock soon feels  like it's made of cement it's so hard and heavy. Two,
three, four more  thrust back and forth in my throat and then my hips hump as I
gag  trying to squeal with cum spurting from my cock. First a  two-foot
string of cum and then three little  ones. I'm shuddering from climatic
sensations even though very little spunk shot  out. That's not at all surprising
since John drained my nuts when  he fucked me a half hour ago. It takes him no
more than another ten-seconds  of thrusting to shoot his small load down my
throat. Pulling out he backs up  against the wall of the shower stall gasping
and shivering. After a few seconds  he murmurs, "Oh my God, I feel weak."

I'm still concentrating on orgasmic  after-effects as I get up off my knees
and stand leaning against  him.

As the water flows down  on us we both drop our foreheads onto each other's
shoulder and  breathe deeply. John  murmurs, "That's another first," then
he wraps his arms around me and give me a  big hug, mumbling, "This feels
good." We're like this for a minute or so before  he says, "I'll bath you now,"

and he does that with neither of us saying  anything until he finishes. The
last thing he does is wash my cock and balls  with gel on both hands and if
I hadn't just climaxed for the second time in  thirty minute I'd be
sporting an awesome boner about now. As it is it feels  really good. When we're
both completely rinsed off I turn off the water and we  get out grabbing big
fluffy hotel bath towels to dry  ourselves.

Walking out of the  bathroom naked, John says, "I don't know what I like
better, climaxing down your  throat or doing it up your ass. Do you have a
preference, Dylan?" I'm going  through my satchel looking for clean underwear,
then yell, "Goddammit! I knew I  forgot something." He goes, "What?" and I
say, "Underwear. I forgot clean  underwear. Um, did you by any chance bring
extra?" He gives me a 'look'  asking, "You want me to lend you my underwear?
I can't believe... Oh fuck, this  will be another first. Yeah, I usually
pack an extra pair in case I  have an accident in my shorts." He's going
through his satchel, muttering,  "I've never needed the extra pair, but...", and
he comes up with a pair of  jockey shorts. Holding them up, he says, "These
have a twenty-eight-inch  waistband so they might be too small." Yeah, I take
a thirty-inch waist,  but mumble, "Thanks, John." He tossing it to me and
as I squeeze into it,  I'm saying, "Um, about your question. To be honest
there's nothing better  sexually for me than being fucked up the ass. You deep
throating me makes me  climax too because it's such a dominant act on your
part. Heh heh, on the  other hand I can climax just sucking a guy's cock if I
do it long enough  because I feel submissive doing it." He goes, "Man,
that's weird that you  can climax sucking my cock." I says, "If my partner is
dominant I embrace  the submissive role. I'll also climax if I rim a guy's
asshole long enough,  you know, because, again it's such a submissive act." He
goes, "Ick! Rimming is  gross." I nod, "I used to think it was too, but the
past two years it's  somehow become sexy to do it." He mutters, "Well,
please don't do it to me.  I'd feel terrible knowing you were doing that." I
shrug, "Okay, I  won't."

He pulls on a pair of  jockey shorts, saying, "I don't understand the
attraction you have for  being submissive during sex. What's that all about?" I
shrug, "I don't  know, John, I really don't. All I know is a certain kind of
dominant sex partner  gets me off really good." He nods his head but leaves
it at that. It's a  little after eight-thirty by the time we're dressed in
coats and ties. He says,  "Damn, you look awesomely handsome, Dylan. I'm
starting to like that long,  bad-boy hair of yours too. Maybe because I just
shampooed it for you," and he  laughs, mumbling, "Fuck, I still can't believe
our shower together.  Holy shit, that was so cool." I ask, "What time does
this shindig begin?"  He goes, "Supposedly, cocktail hour is from seven-thirty
to eight-thirty with  dinner following but the cocktail hour always gets
extended. If we go down now  we can get a drink before dinner, shit... we can
get a drink during dinner  too. Plus, there will be bottles of wine on the
tables. Many ways to get drunk  if you want to." As we leave the room, he
mumbles, "And I'm gonna need  to get drunk for my first time sleeping with
someone." I'm like, "Well I'll be  sure to shower and brush my teeth so I don't
gross you out too much." He goes,  "I didn't mean anything negative about
you. I've never slept with anyone,  that's all I'm saying."

We go down in the  elevator and join three hundred east-coast guests at the
LGBT Christmas  party. John signs us in and we get name tags for our sports
jacket's  lapel. John asks, "What are you going to drink, Dylan?" I ask,
"What are  you having?"  He makes a 'face' thinking, and then says, "The only
mixed drink I kinda like is grapefruit juice and vodka." I nod, "I'll have
that  too," and he gets us each a drink. We walk through this large crowd
looking for  his two gay friends. It's quickly obvious to me that each of the
four groups  making up the LGBT organization are well represented. There
looks to  be about the same number of male types as female types whatever their
gender at  birth, and there's a wide range in appearances from
conservative, like John and  I, to as flamboyant as one can imagine. Good vibe in the
room though. Lots of  loud voices and laughter to compete with the dance club
music that's playing.  Everyone seems pleased to be among their peers.

A drag queen grabs John  from behind and kisses his cheek. Blushing, John
introduces me to Ronald who's  about five-and-a-half-feet tall and almost as
slim as John.  Ronald's wearing a tight purple dress and a string of pearls
plus  long-hanging earrings and high heels. He's got way too much make-up on
 his face with big fake eyelashes and there's a suffocating  perfume smell
floating off him in all directions. It's like he's  purposely taking
everything in his, um, costume to a  satirical degree. He acts with exaggerated
femininity too although his  voice is very deep. It's a lot to take in. John
goes, "Great to see  you, Ronny! Awesome dress and, um, where's your date
tonight?" Ronald's sipping Champaign as he says, "Tony's in the hospital;  he
crashed his motorcycle, the idiot." John introduces me and Ronald  exclaims,
"Oh Dear Lord! Jesus, Tony would be devastated to be here and  be compared
to your adorable twinky date." John says, "Dylan's no more  a twink than I
am. We were born on the same day over twenty-one years  ago." Ronald pinches
my nose, saying, "It's nice to meet you, princess." I sort  of pull my head
back, saying, "Same here, um, Ronny." John, being  protective, goes, "Don't
call him princess!"

Ronald says to me,  "Sorry, darling. Um, you're probably wondering how in
the world your  conservative boyfriend would know a drag queen like me. I
mean you two  being so, um, normal looking although delicious." I go, "No,  I
wasn't thinking  that," although it's exactly what I was thinking. He gives
me a pinch on my  cheek, and goes, "You are adorable! Anyway, I dress up for
self-expression with  just a touch of transvestite fetishism. It's a
creative outlet for me and a  means of self-exploration." As if anybody asked
him/her. John does his  laugh, then says, "Ronny is so full of shit," then to
Ronald he asks, "Is Alex  here?" Ronald says in that disturbingly deep voice of
his, "Yes, he's with  Candice tonight." Then to me, "Candice is the
original fag-hag, sweetie." I nod  my head and gulp half my drink, then make a face
because I can taste the  vodka and was hopeful the grapefruit juice would
mask it. John and Ronald are  talking and laughing hysterically about
something, so I'm looking around  amazed at the diversity. There's also something
very obvious and it's that  a sport jacket and tie is John's personal choice
of costume and it's  not a popular one in this crowd. Some muscle-bound guys
don't even have a  shirt on to go with their too-tight pants. Everyone
appears to be having a good  time though, smiling or laughing.

We adjourn to the  ballroom where the buffet is set up. John's friend Alex
is there. He's one  of the muscle-bound gays guys although he is wearing a
shirt. The way  I know he's muscle-bound is his shirt and pants appear to be
made from some sort  of miracle stretch fabric that shows every ripple of
muscle when he  moves. It also shows a very large package between his legs
leaving nothing to  the imagination. With him is Candice, a woman who appears
to be in her  thirties wearing a long dress that reminds me of pictures I've
seen  of frontier women or maybe hippies in the sixties. She has hair  down
her back to her waist and no make-up that I can see. None of John's  three
friends are good looking and I do wonder how they became friends. I  mean
John's way closer to being like me than any of his three friends. I  can't
personally imagine forming a friendship with any of the them. And yeah, I  admit
that's a bit unfair since I don't know them but I'll go out on a limb
predicting that even if I knew them I wouldn't be working on establishing a
friendship. And, what the hell, they could very easily feel the same way about
me.

The food looks  excellent and no one is requiring much in the way of
conversation from me  so it's all good so far. Anyway, assuming I did have
something I wanted to  interject into the conversation, which I don't, I couldn't
because Ronald,  Alex, and Candice talk nonstop. At first they go overboard
being complimentary  of John's date tonight, meaning me. They're assuming
John and I are  boyfriends and John doesn't correct that misconception so I
don't either.  Instead of correcting the misconception John puts his arm around
my waist for a  squeeze, saying, "I told Dylan he'd be a hit and that I'd
be a hot-shit for  bringing a date as cute and hot as he is." I just grin.

Being John's boyfriend  isn't a hard thing to do; I just smile and nod my
head. As for the compliments,  I've heard compliments about my 'looks' all my
life and have never paid much  attention to them because I had nothing to do
with how I look, or very little to  do with it. I'd much prefer that someone
say I was a nice person or something  along those lines. You know, because I
do have something to do with  that.

We get plates and begin  choosing what we want from the buffet. I begin
with large cold shrimp  and cocktail sauce, plus a Caesar salad. I follow that
up with  brown garlic potatoes, skinny green beans, and prime rib of beef
that  John gets too. He claims to everyone that the prime rib I served at the
apartment was superior to this. He's wrong of course, this is better and
sliced to order by a chef. There's many other things I'd like to try  like
French onion soup with lots of cheese melted on top, crab  cakes with
Remoulade sauce and other gourmet foods like lobster mac  and cheese. There's
salmon, both cold and blackened and... well, too many  dishes to name. I'd like to
know what it cost to be here but I'm too polite  to ask. I do my best
tasting as many food offerings as possible  filling-up two plates and then the
dessert selections are amazing. I have two  different desserts unable to
choose between them. Actually I wish I had a  larger stomach because everything
tastes sooooo good. The five of us share a  table with three others
individuals who we don't know, and who all eat  hardily with their mouths open.

Didn't their parents teach them better than  that?
Ronald has taken it  upon himself to see that I have enough wine constantly
saying, "My dear boy, let  me pour you some more wine," as he fills up my
glass, and then tells John,  "Johnny, you need to be more attentive to this
darling boyfriend of yours." Then  he leans his overly made-up face close to
mine, asking, "How long have you love  birds been together?" Before I can
say anything, John, who's sitting on the  other side of me, goes, "Only a few
weeks but we're really getting to know one  another quickly. Aren't we,
honey?" and he laughs his laugh while squeezing the  back of my neck like I've
done to him. I say, "John's everything a boyfriend  should be and I love his
freckles." John choke on his wine snorting out a laugh,  so everyone laughs
too. Hey, they're all really nice. Not my type, but very  nice and they're
having a good time and what the fuck, so am  I.

During dinner, like  me,  John doesn't do much talking. He mostly  responds
to the other's comments and laughs a lot. Both Ronny, the drag queen,  and
Candice, the fag-hag, are very funny with fast talking put-downs of this or
that along with their exaggerated funny mannerisms. Alex, the  muscle-bound
gay guy, buys everyone including the three guys we don't know  a round of
drinks and then ten minutes later one of the guys no one knows  carries to
the table a tray with sixteen shots of tequila on it that  he immediately
passes out to everyone. We toast to names I  don't recognize but who are
apparently leaders in the organization, or something  like that. I've gotta say
that of all the horrible hard liquors used for  shots, tequila just might be
the worst shot of booze of them all. Still, I  gag them down along with
everyone else. Then another round of drinks from  the drag queen and by now
everyone's pleasantly drunk. Some of our fellow  diners from other tables begin
adjourning to the next ballroom where a  DJ is pumping out mostly club music
and I can see from my seat there's lots  of dancing going on. We stay at our
table to drink another round while  guys take turns telling dirty jokes that
mostly make fun of straight people  who just don't get it. What 'it'
exactly is I'm not sure. Ronny buys  another round of drinks then has me change
places with him so he can sit  between John and me.

As a drag queen Ronny  has a huge purse and from it he brings out make-up
items like eyeliner and  lip gloss while telling John and me, "You two twinky
boys are too  straight-looking." John again tell Ronald, "We're not fucking
twinks,  Ronny!"  Ignoring that Ronald gets a grip on my chin holding my
head steady  and then, with his overly-made-up face too close to mine, his
large  nose precariously close to my much smaller one, he applies eyeliner  and
something that he smears under my eye. He takes five minutes doing  my
make-up while everyone is watching and making suggestions, one of which  comes
from my chuckling date. Yeah, my date and boyfriend for the night, says,
"Ronny, draw a beauty mark on his cheek," which I feel Ronny do, saying,
"You're  next Johnny." Last is some pale pink lipstick that's the same  shade he's
wearing. Make-up feels yucky on your face and it's hard to  imagine that
most women wear it every day!
Ronny does John's face  and includes big false eyelashes on him. Oh my God,
do I look like that?  Everyone applauds as Ronny stands and bows while
spearing  his arms. His perfume continues to suffocate those within three  feet
of him although no one mentions it. After one  more round of drinks we all
move into the very loud ballroom  with the DJ and all the dancing people.

Candice, the-fag-hag, grabs me for  the first dance which is mercifully a fast
number. She's a terrible, terrible  dancer but of course we're both drunk so
there's that. Next John and I dance a  few slow numbers. After all the wine
and hard drinks, plus shots John  finally doesn't appear a bit concerned at
all about touching. He  dances close and kind of dirty but he's as smooth a
dancer as I thought he  would be when I watched him smoothly moving his
hips fucking  me. Then we dance a few fast numbers and he does some of  the
awesome moves Willie makes when dancing. They're  both better dancers than me.

It's very hot in here  with two to three hundred people dancing and putting
out a lot of 98.6 degrees  of body heat. By now I'm sort of used to seeing
John with the  make-up and fake eyelashes so don't give it a thought when we
walk off the  dance floor and he says, "Let's find where we can get bottled
 water." The bar's too crowded so we go to the hotel's Sundry Shop in the
lobby  attracting quite a bit of attention from strangers who gawk at us
while whispering behind their hands. Young children opening point at us  while
their other hand covers their mouth. I'm frowning as John buys  us bottles
of cold water. He drinks some, then wipes the pads of his  fingers across my
forehead, saying, "You're sweating and your mascara is  running," and, duh,
it hits me that's why people are looking at us.  None  of the gawkers are
with the LBGT group.

Taking our bottles of  water, we walk back through the ballroom where we
had cocktails and grab a  seat at an empty table. John swallows half the
bottle of water and asks  me, "Having a good time so far?" Nodding, I say. "Yeah,
and this is  the first time I've been at a LBGT function so I'm having some
 firsts on our date too. Everyone seems very nice." He says,  "You've been
great, Dylan. Do you feel drunk?" I go," Ha ha, yeah, don't  you?" He says,
"Yeah, but c'mon let get another drink. Being a little drunk  isn't drunk
enough. We're celebrating the end of your college  semester, ya know." No I
didn't know.

I get up  and follow him, muttering, "I didn't know that." The bar's
crowded so  we wait for our turn then John orders. "Two shots and  beers." I'm
like, "Oh no," as he hands me mine. We find a spot against the wall  where John
taps his shot glass to mine, saying, "To you, Dylan," and we flash  down
the horrible whiskey. At least it's not tequila. We're both  gulping some
beer. We put the shot glasses on a tray of dirty  glasses and John's sort of
staring at me now, then asks, "Do I look as hot as  you do with this make-up
on?" I nod my head grinning and muttering, "Probably  hotter," and somehow
we're kissing with my back against the wall and John  really getting into it.

Holding our cans of beer out to the side we're  doing tongue laps then
sucking kisses and it's kinda rough with our  free hands in each other's hair and
then grabbing asses. A hard boner  appears my pants and I mean John's being
sexy hot! I totally didn't expect  this from him.

Well okay, this must be  the hidden side of John because normally he, other
than during sex,  does as little touching and hugging as possible, and zero
kissing. Not  now though. We're both breathing hard as he squeezes my ass,
saying, "I'm  drunk, Dylan, but I want to tell you how awesomely sexy you
are and how  you're like a dream come true for me." He puts his hand behind my
head and  pulls it to his. His tongue's in my mouth and then he sucks on my
upper lip  pulling it away from my teeth and then our teeth scrape together
as  he's again kissing me hungrily. I feel his boner when he humps  against
me.

I'm drunk too and  very aroused by this strange situation of wearing
make-up and getting turned-on  by John's alter ego. He breaks the latest kiss,
grinning and  murmuring, "I almost had a an accident in my pants. I might need
those  jockey shorts back." I'm running my fingers back through his red burr
 haircut feeling attracted to this freckle faced kid who looks about
seventeen-years-old. He goes, "I'd never be able to tell you those things I said
a minute ago when I'm sober, so I'm glad I could say them to you now." And
he  licks across my lips, then puts his arm around my waist and starts
walking me  down a corridor saying, "The lavatory is down here somewhere if I
remember  correctly."

We walk a  way before I say,  "Um, this is the wrong way. I took two pisses
in the lavatory out front.  Didn't you use that one?" He says, "Yeah, I
used the closer one like you did but  I'm taking you to the one hardly anyone
uses. It's around that  corner." Yeah, there's a men's room and when we go in
it I see three of  the five doors closed on the toilet stalls with four
feet showing  under each closed door. I mutter, "Oh good, no one is using  the
urinals so we ..." John chuckles pulling me into the  last stall and pushing
me against the wall. There's an empty stall  between us and the next
occupied one. John mutters, "We got lucky with  this stall," then a foot sides out
from under him and I grab him to keep  him from falling.

He mutters, "Quick  reflexes, Dylan," as he's unbuttoning my pants and then
pulls them  down. While he's pulling his pants down I pull down the too
tight underpants  I borrowed from him. Our cocks are still partially hard from
our make-out a  few minutes ago. John strokes my firm cock a few times and
then reaches up  grinning at me as he roughly grabs a fistful of my hair,
muttering, "Suck  my cock but don't get on your knees this time, Dylan, there's
some suspicious  substance on the floor I slipped in." Bending over I suck
on his fairly  firm cock and it quickly swells in my mouth as John's feet
shuffle a little  and he does a low grunt, "Oooh, ummm." He yanks my head away
by my hair,  and straightens me up. With the fistful of my hair he pulls my
head so I'll turn  around as he's murmuring, "Bend forward and support
yourself with  your hands against the wall.

His boner's at my  asshole immediately and it's dripping with precum.

Without mentioning  anything about a condom he humps his cock in past my
sphincter and  right off it's fast hard thrusting creating the sounds I hear a lot,
"Slapslapslapslap," sounds for two straight minutes with him grunting from
the effort near the end. I'm trying to keep my moans quiet, "Aaah,  aaah,
oooh John, ooh John, aaaah!" He spanks my ass, "Smack smack  smack," and then
more fast hard thrusting, "Slapslapslap," and now he's moaning,  "Umm, umm,
umm," with each drive up my ass. It feels so fucking good and  then my
climax comes roaring up on me and with my hand over my  mouth I make a squeaky
sound and shoot cum against the wall and then again  as I feel John's load of
cum splash into my bowels. It's wet and sloppy  inside my ass now as John
continues thrusting his boner drawing out  some cum that splatters on my butt
cheeks when he drives his cock back up my  ass. His crotch collides with my
buttocks hard as he now does deliberate  slow hard thrust. I'm going, "Ooh,
ooh, ooh John, ooh," until he  sighs and slows down. Two hard humps finish
it off and then with me  fucked really well he pulls his cock out.

John's  taking gasping deep breaths for maybe thirty seconds before getting
his  second wind. With a fistful of my hair he pulls my head back  and
spanks my ass hard, "Smack smack smack smack," and I'm like, "John  no, John no,
not here, "Smack, smack, smack," and when my buttocks are  red and hot he
slides his new boner up my ass again and it,  "Slapslapslapslapslap," sounds
for another minute with me calling  out his name along with sounds of
arousal. We can't work up another orgasm  though so his thrusting peters-out and
his cock comes out of my ass again  as he's gasps for air. I've got a little
smile on my face because that  was good sub/dom sex whether he realizes it
or not. I got submissively  docile during the spanking and second hard
fucking. Plus, it was  unexpected. It felt damn good!
I'm only now realizing  that I'm up against the stall's door, not a wall
and the latch that  locks the door is barely engaged. This door could have
swung open at any  time. John's pressing toilet paper against my asshole
soaking up his cum as  it drools out of my ass. His forehead is against the back
of my shoulder while  he breaths deeply. I'm telling myself, 'No more
drinking  tonight!'  as I watch my cum drool down the door quickly losing  its
creamy  white consistency. No more drinking because I'd like to be fairly sober
during our next sex act and enjoy it to the max. John is really awesome
with some booze in him. He lifts his head off the back of my shoulder,
murmuring, "Wow, that was so fucking hot..." then he wipes my ass one  last time
and puts fresh toilet paper in his jockey shorts, that I'm  wearing, and
pulls the underwear and toilet paper up tight. Patting my ass, he  says, "I want
these shorts back. I'll sleep with it under my pillow."  I chuckle and pull
up my khaki pants. John asks, "Ready?" and I  go, "Sure," and undo the rest
of the latch.

Stepping out of the  stall I'm startled to see four guys leaning against
the sinks  clapping their hands. An older man with long gray hair, asks,
"Which one of you boys is John? The one doing the 'topping'?" Blushing  deeply,
I point at John and the guy says, "I'd like to take lessons from you,  son."

John mutters, "What...?" as we walk along the wall towards the door.  With
a wave of my hand, like I'm stupidly acknowledging the applause,  we go out
the door followed closely by  the smirking/smiling audience to our sex act.

I'm still feeling a  touch of submissiveness to John and it makes me smile
to myself as a  zipping electric buzzing runs around my dick. There's a
couple  of catty remarks from the peanut gallery, then a tall guy makes a pass at
 me asking if I ever go for older men and then he kissing my cheek  with
his gray speckled beard scratchy. I'm like, "Hey! Can't you  see I'm with my
boyfriend here." John gets between us and tells the  old bearded guy, "Keep
your hands off him," then puts his arm around the back of  my waist walking
me away from the man. Ha ha,  John's my protector.

As they walk with us  they're questioning if we're eighteen. I assume to be
sure we're legal age  as if we'd have sex with any of them. These guys are
from the LGBT  group obviously and walk with us back to the party without
further  interaction. John whispers, "Don't worry about these guys. I won't
let any of  these old-timers bother you again," and now he takes my hand and
holds  it as we walk! What's next in John's unexpected bag of tricks I
wonder? I  almost laugh out loud thinking he's joking with his protective manner,
but  turn the laugh into a couple of fake coughs realizing he has a serious
expression on his face. Well, him sticking up for me is kinda sweet
actually and I'm liking this hand-holding. John's gonna protect  me.

There's only a  scattering of people still in the buffet ballroom with many
 hotel workers dismantling everything. We walk through to the  ballroom
were the music never stops. Our randiness taken care of for the present  John
and I dance every number for the next forty-five minutes and then during a
few slow numbers he does his dirty dancing routine with one of his  leg
between mine and him humping lightly against my junk while rubbing  a hand up the
back of my head and all the while keeping perfect  time with the music.

He's a little taller than me and  every once in a while he'll pull his head
back a little to lean down  slightly and deliberately lick across my lips
staring down into my  eyes and grinning. It's all fine by me because I'm nursing
a submissive  trance feeling dreamy and well taken care of by my taller and
older  date for the night. It's one of those dreamy trances where I feel
much  younger than John. Somewhere in my brain I know it's all bull-shit but
for  now it feels good nurturing this fantasy. We're both quite  drunk of
course but I'm enjoying being the object of John's lust while  he protects me.

We've been dancing  together without talking for so long that when the
music stops John and I  look around, like, "What the fuck happened?" A man in a
suit begins a  speech that we listen to for a minute, me personally not
understanding a word  the guy's saying. John takes my hand again and pulls me
toward an  exit, saying, C'mon, we'll miss this part." That plays  brilliantly
into my concept that John's the man in-charge. We  go out to the main bar
hand-in-hand. Reality hits me hard when at the  hotel's main bar, the
bartender asks us for ID and then questions us about  the authenticity of what we
show him. I'm totally out of my little  trance now, snapping at the guy,
"Call the manager if this is too hard of a  decision for you to make." He shakes
his head then, like nothing's happened,  asking, "What'll it be gentlemen?"

John buys us each a  beer.

We sit at the bar with  other hotel guest, ones not with the LGBT group,
many of whom are sneaking looks  at us and nudging their friend to check us
out like when we went to  the hotel's Sundry Shop. We've forgotten we have
make-up on even though we  can see it on each other. That should be a clue to
us that we're  totally hammered, but instead we're frowning at each other,
like:  What's up with these assholes and all the staring. As we drink our
beers  John's expression while staring into my eyes is like someone  in love. I
understand how he feels with all the booze we've drunk and  our sexy dancing
in each other's arms plus the actual sex we've had  together tonight. All
that, but mainly the booze can make you think funny  things. Things that when
sober you'll be embarrassed about when you remember it.  I can't help but
like John and I want him to have a great time so I go along  with his loopy
look of love and the hand-holding sitting here at the  main bar. Ha ha, and
in front of all these straight people. I hear  whispers above the music;
words like, 'LGBT' and 'gays' whispered behind  hands. John is oblivious which
makes me grin to  myself.

After a while the  novelty of us two diminishes allowing John and I to
fully enjoy our  contended goofy states of mind without being snickered at.

After ordering a  second beer John leans over putting his hand on the back of my
 neck, saying, "Didn't I promise you you'd have a good time?" I nod my head
 and smell the back of my hand as we look into each other's eyes. I'm
grinning to myself until I take my hand away seeing a smear of pink  lipstick on
the back of my hand. That make me laugh while looking at John's  face
realizing we both look like clowns. Somehow our brains rationalized in our
altered-drunken state of mind that there's nothing unusual about us wearing
make-up tonight.

It's after one o'clock  by the time we've almost finished our second beers.

Without any sort of  recent in-charge action or words from John my trance
has mostly drifted  away. I ask, "How late do these parties go?" He says,
"Usually  until two o'clock or so, but do you wanna go back to the room. I'll
fuck  you again if you'd like." Okay, there's a little bit of a dominant move
on his  part. The way he said he'll fuck me again inferring it's for mostly
my  benefit. He's merely taking care of his much younger and inexperienced
'date'. Ha ha, sometimes I need to stretch the circumstances a bit to help
a  submissive trance along. I nod, "Yeah, if you say so, Johnny." He gets  a
serious expression on his youthful face, saying, "Then finish  the last of
your beer and we'll go." I drain my glass and he takes my hand  again.

We walk like that  through all the straight people to our ballroom full of
gay  people. John wants to say goodbye to his friends before we adjourn to
our room for more sex. When we find them they insist we have another drink
with  them and in our current inebriated condition we can't say 'no'. Then
somehow I'm slow dancing with Ronald and mostly trying to get oxygen  through
his suffocating perfume. Ronald is fondling me a bit too much so I
purposely step on his ankle. He yelps as I apologize profusely looking  over at
John and nodding my head. He comes over and saves me, ha ha, as the  three of
us join the others for yet another round of drinks. I don't  even know what
I'm drinking by now. It's a very sweet drink though so  it's some kind of
after dinner booze.

We drink our drinks and  the beverage slides down my throat easily by now.

Instead of leaving after that  drink John and I do another dirty-dancing
slow song with him getting his  hand down the back of my pants goosing my bare
ass and pushing the tip of  his finger past my sphincter muscle. I lean
against him, the side  of my face against his neck going up on my toes and
hugging his skinny torso. He  whispers in my ear, "I'm being dominant for you,
Dylan, because I like you so  much and I want you like me too." Then he kisses
the side of my face  leaving a wet saliva spot there. I go, "Yeah, you're
really  being awesome." The word 'awesome' sounds in my ear like, 'oostsum'.

Mostly  I'm surprised he's been consciously trying to be in-charge,
dominant, or  whatever he felt he was doing tonight. I didn't realize he was doing
it on  purpose. Pulling his finger out of my asshole, he wipes it  off in the
back pocket of his khakis but now the toilet paper he put there  is in a
bunch and feels uncomfortable. I've got both hands on the outside of my  pants
at my ass trying to smooth-out the ball of toilet  paper.

Ya know, when we left  the hotel's main bar to say goodnight to John's
friends it was one o'clock  in the morning and now as we finally get in an
elevator taking us to  our floor it's two-fifteen. That was some long goodbye to
his  friends. At our door John drunkenly fiddles with the card key for
twenty seconds or so before he gets the blink of a green light and we hear the
click of the lock. Inside he pushes me up against the closet's sliding
doors and does an open mouth kiss that's a pretty good one considering  our
condition. After a quick two or three kisses he just stops as if he's  surprised
he's doing this, or maybe he forgets why he started. He takes my  hand,
saying, "I gotta piss like a race horse," pulling me with him into the
bathroom with him.

We both take a long  piss standing side my side at the toilet. Then we look
at ourselves in the  mirror and snicker. The snickers turn into drunken
laughing out  loud at the make-up that smeared all over our faces. When the
laughing  stops almost as abruptly as it started, John says, "Get undressed."

We  both do that dropping our clothes in a pile. There's still an ounce of
common  sense left in my brain so I pick our clothes off the bathroom  floor
and put them on a chair in the bedroom. I hear John turns on the  shower so I
go back in the bathroom thinking a shower is the most brilliant  idea of
the night. Our eyes are closing quickly as we do the best we  can shampooing
and washing each other in a half-ass imitation of how we did  it when we were
sober. Washing John's package with my hand gets no response  from him.

Done washing and barely  awake we hold on to each other under the flow of
water for a minute. I turn  it off and we sort of dry ourselves. Trying to
think what comes next, John  finally says, "Toothbrush," and we stand at the
twin-sinks brushing our  teeth with way too much toothpaste and then realize
we're using each  other's electric toothbrush. Frowning and with the
toothbrushes still running  and spattering drops of toothpaste on the mirror we
stupidly switch the buzzing  toothbrushes and finish brushing our teeth. After
rinsing with mouthwash we  get into bed cuddling together and fall asleep
almost  immediately.

I wake up seemingly ten  seconds after falling asleep hearing John throwing
up in the bathroom. It's  almost four o'clock. We only got in bed an
hour-and-a-half ago. His  throwing up goes on for four-or-five-minutes and I
should probably go  in to see if he needs help, but I can't get out of bed. The
rooms spinning on me  as I hear an electric toothbrush again, either his or
mine, running for a  minute and then a lot of gargling. John walks like a
zombie back into  the bedroom leaving the bathroom light on. He gets in bed
smelling like minty  mouthwash and cuddles against me without saying a word. I
put my arms around him  and the next thing I know the room is full of
sunlight.

John's in the bathroom  again as I lie here analyzing my condition; am I
still drunk? Yes, I  believe I am a little drunk even after eight hours sleep.

It's twenty-of-eleven  so we had a good night's sleep but there is residual
booze in our systems  that hasn't been processed yet; consequently, the
hangovers  that ultimately will hit us haven't materialized fully yet. I've got
a  minor headache but feel better than I should and better than I'm going
to feel  in a couple of hours. John comes out of the bathroom grinning at me,
"How ya  feeling this morning, Dylan?" I go, "Okay, how 'bout you?" He
shrugs, mumbling,  "The same, but we'll be hurting later. I think we're still
drunk." As he's  saying that he's going through the pockets of his sports
coat. His hand comes  out with a condom packet in his fingers that he holds up
and then comes  over and gets under the covers with me, asking, "Do you
remember everything  about last night? I'm not sure I do. Let's compare notes."

We're both still  naked from last night's shower.

I rub my fingers  through his red burr-cut hair thinking fond thoughts of
him. In fact, I'm  moving him up to the 'goofy cute' category in my mind. I
like his hair and  his grin and his youthful appearance. He has creamy white
skin in between his  freckles and super bright white teeth. I tasted his
pink tongue a lot last  night and over-all I had a good, although unusual time
with him. I recall him  telling me he was trying to be dominant to please
me, but I wonder if he  remembers. Flopping over on my side I mumble, "I think
I  remember everything from last night. I had a very good time with you."

He  nods his head trying to be serious, but a big smile breaks out on his
face. He  says, "Oh shit, you telling me that makes me feel good, Dylan. I was
in the  bathroom just now thinking I made an ass of myself last night.

Actually I  know I did with a few things I said and did. But you thought I was a
good  boyfriend-date, right?" Jeez, last night he was working so hard trying
to  please me while I don't think I gave much of a thought about pleasing
him. But wait, I remember thinking once that I wanted him to have a good
time. I say, "I don't think you did anything wrong last night, John,  and I
hope I didn't disappoint you.

He says, "Not hardly! Everyone was jealous of me  for having you as my
boyfriend, um, even though we aren't boyfriends." I  go, "Whatever, we were
boyfriends last night and you were a great  date! And your friends are, um, a
little far-out-there in  a weird-world kind of way, but very nice too." He
goes, "That was  mostly acting for the party on their part. It's like a, um,
costume party or  like a gay parade. In regular life they're more normal and
not so flamboyant." I  nod my head, asking, "What are your plans for that
condom you've got in your  hand?" He opens his hand and looks at it, then looks
back at me, saying,  "I'm planning on using it to fuck you again. I've
never had sex in a bed  before." I go, "Huh, and what if I don't feel like doing
that right now?" He  shrugs, "Then too bad for you because I'm doing it
anyway." Chuckling, I  ask, "Are you still on your kick of being dominant?" He
snorts out a laugh, "Oh  fuck! You remember me saying that last night, huh?
Well  you're god-dammed right I'm still on my dominant kick. By the way, how
 am I doing with that?" I rub his burr haircut again liking the feel of the
 bristles at the crown of his head, "Well you really shouldn't snort out a
laugh  before saying 'you're god-dammed right I am'." He snorts  out another
laugh, then looks serious, asking, "I way over-did the making-out  with
you, didn't I? I swear to you I've never even kissed another  guy, never  mind
making-out like I did with you last  night."

Thinking about that  for second, I mumble, "I liked it, and you were very
good at it too so  I don't know whether to believe you that you've never done
it before." He  looks pleased at the compliment, but says, "It's true,
you're my first make-out  and I liked it when we were doing it too, but I need
to be drunk to do it. I  couldn't do it now." I mutter, "That's too bad," and
he says, "Plus, I cut  the inside of my lip on your teeth. Look," and he
pulls his bottom lip down  showing me the cut. It looks sore. I say, "Sorry
about that, John and, um,  you've got a very pink mouth." Letting go of his
lip, he asks,  "Doesn't everyone?" I shake my head, "Nope, not like yours." He
opens  his mouth wide sticking out his tongue and then closing it, he says,
 "From now on I'm going to be looking at everybody's mouth because of you."

I go,  "Do you know what else I find sexy about you?" Shaking his head, he
goes, "I'm  shocked you find anything sexy about me." I go, "Your hairy
calves, that's  what." He laughs, then mutters, "Jeee-zuss, that's hard to
believe." I go,  "Yeah, it's weird, but true."

He pushes the covers  down and pulls his right leg on top of the cover,
asking. "You think that  skinny leg is sexy?" I nod my head and reach my hand
over to lightly rub up  and down his calf through the curly red hairs. I'm
like, "Are you aware  there are people who have a fetish for feet?" He's like,
"Yeah, of course I'm  aware of it, but I'm not one of them." I go, "Me
neither, but your leg is sexy."  He says, "Enough with the chit-chat. Turnover
and I'll do a good spanking on your  really awesome ass." I'm like, "Um, I'm
not feeling a spanking this  morning, John. Let's skip that and get right
down to the fucking part  that you do so well." He's pushing the covers
further down toward the  foot of the bed, saying, "We're not skipping anything.

You and I have  established a repeatable series of activities that sexually
arouses  both of us and gets both our cocks hard and our rocks off, so to
speak, and  so... turn over!" Grinning, he smacks the side of my hip. Hmmm, if
he only  hadn't grinned I might sense a drop of submissiveness. Oh what the
hell, I  mutter, "Okay then," and flop over.

John mumbles, "That's  better," and relocates himself on his knees facing
away from me and smacks  my ass once, saying, "Push your ass up and accept
your spanking the proper way."  When I do that, I finally feel a for real
tingling in my balls. John spanks  my ass hard for a minute or so and when I'm
just about to put my hand back  there he stops, then snickers as he mumbles,
"That gave me half a  hard-on," and he whacks my ass three more times. It's
not a big problem but my  ass feels like maybe a few bumblebees stung each
butt cheek. It's only  a noticeably stinging for a couple of minutes and then
doesn't  feel too bad. He only using the palm of his hand after all and not
a  paddle or whatever. He gets himself turned around, telling me, "I wanted
to  get both your ass cheeks the same shade of red," and he smacks my left
butt  cheek two more times, "Smack, smack!" My heads turns looking at him as
I  mumble, "Are you done because that stings, ya know." He smirks, "You are
so  awesome, Dylan! I can hardly believe it."  He's ripping open the condom
 packet but leaving the condom inside. Scooting over close to me  he sits
back on his heels and reaches over to grab a fistful of  my hair jerking my
head over near his half-hard cock. He has a nice-looking  penis. It's pale
like his skin except for the pink head.

Yanking on my hair he  says, "I want a good cock sucking from you." Sucking
his cock's head into my  mouth I tongue it and suck on it as he hunches
over a little pushing a few  inches of shaft inside my mouth. I'm bathing the
shaft with my warm saliva and then  pushing it around with my tongue that
gets a grunt from John and some squirming.  He lifts up and humps his hips
poking the back of my mouth with the hard head of  his cock but because of the
position we're in he can't get it into my  throat. I feel his cock swelling
in my mouth though and when he pulls it out  it's a hard boner sticking
straight out from his red/orange pubic  hairs. John lets out a long exhale, then
murmurs, "I almost lost my load in  your mouth. Damn, that felt good."

He pats my smacked ass  again, saying, "Stay like that," then gets between
my knees. Sucking John's cock  got mine fairly hard and feeling good. I'm
also sensing a  real touch of submissiveness towards John because of the way
he  doing and saying everything. Looking back at him reinforces in my mind
that he qualifies as goofy cute. And even though he's not yet good at being
a dominant sex partner I like having sex with him. There's definitely some
dominance although he wouldn't have called it that if I hadn't. This  is
simply the way he has sex. He's always the top, not that he has  had a ton of
sex. And he just sort of fell into the hair pulling habit  because of my long
hair.

Let's face it, a spanking is a dominant  thing to do to someone plus this
time he insisted on doing it. And he  continues doing the hair pulling
getting me to suck his cock  so that's another legitimate reasons for feeling he's
being  dominant. As usual though, John inadvertently ruins any
submissiveness  I've managed to conjure up. This time as he's rolling the condom  on his
hard cock, he's smiling at me, saying, "Damn, I'm glad I didn't  chicke
n-out that night in the bar when I asked you to be my pool  partner! Ever since
then it's been the best time ever for me." I can't help but  grin back at
his enthusiasm. I mutter, "Yeah, me too, John," but his  enthusiastic
compliment blew away any sense of him being dominant  for the moment. He  gets
between my legs, saying, "Push your ass up more," and when I do  he swats it,
"Smack!" and mutters, "Keep it up," which makes my cock  vibrate a little.

Pushing my ass up makes  it more convenient for him to fuck me but it also
gives the head of my hard pecker room  away from the mattress. He murmurs,
"This never gets old," and then plugs the  condom covered head of his cock in
past my sphincter, "Ummm," he goes. I  muffle a grunt but it feels good...

really good. John leans forward putting his  hands lightly on either of my
spanked butt cheeks, both  still stinging a little as his hard cock goes all
the way up my  ass with John up on his knees a little and his hands now at
my waist. He humps  against my buttocks with buzzing coming from the
stretched lips of my anus.  There's some pleasant pulsing from my prostate too and
only a small hurting  from inside my rectum. The hurting fades before he even
pulls his cock back.  He's fucked me so often on this date my anus never
gets the chance to fully  regain its tightness.

Still humping gently  against my buttocks he reaches up and gets his
signature fistful of hair from  the front of my head pulling my head up off the
pillow and then he begins  smoothly moving those hips of his in the same
smooth way he moved while  dancing last night and it's, "Slapslapslapslap,"

sounds again. They  continue with me in an ocean of sexual pleasure for like the
next four  or five minutes. John and I do quiet moaning that gets more
pronounced the  longer his boner moves back and forth in my ass. John pulling my
head back  by my hair while fucking me brings on a very nice submissive
trance that I grovel in it thinking about nothing except being fucked  up the
ass awesomely. This could never happen when my hair was short  for most of my
life, so  obviously it's new and I like it a lot.

I'm experiencing the  pleasure of nerve ending being significantly
stimulated in my rectum  along with the almost unbearable pleasure pumping off my
prostate  gland and the deliciously stretched lips of my asshole. It's what
I've come  to expect will happen during anal sex which is why I love getting
fucked up  the ass, and somehow it always feels new too. It always is new and
I'm writhing  on the mattress with my orgasm getting ready to blow and then
it does  blow before I expect it to. I squeal and cum shoots straight
down. One good stream of cum that gets me shuddering and then three  more
scintillated streaks as John is humping against my butt cheeks filling  his condom
with spunk from his nuts. We always climax within ten seconds of each
other which is a little freaky. It's also a first for any repeat sex partner
I've ever had. Occasionally I'll climax with my sex partner but that's kinda
rare and never every time like with John.

He'd let go of my hair some time during the sex  act although I don't
recall when it was. Now, as happens quite often, I'm lying  in my own cum shaking
slightly as the last zipping sensations of orgasm fly  through and around
my groin. John doesn't lie on my back this time but  instead pulls his cock
from my ass and flops over on his back next to me.  He's breathing deeply
while pulling off the condom. Shaking his head a little,  he mutters,
"Unbelievably wonderful. Oh God, I loved spanking and then fucking  your ass. It's,
um, I can't even describe how it makes me  feel funny all over my body."

Turning his head to look at me, he adds,  "But it only happens with you, Dylan."

Then he pats my head, mumbling, "Sorry  about pulling your hair like that.

When I get to fucking you hard I  forget I'm pulling your hair, heh heh.

You're not pissed at me are you?" I shake  my head, "I hardly noticed it. That
was a damn good fucking, John. They all  are." He nods his head looking very
contented. I roll away from him leaving my  splash of cum on the sheet in
between us, saying, "I'm gonna take a  quick shower." He holds the condom
towards me, asking, "Would you flush this,  please." I take it from his
fingers, mumbling, "Sure," and pad into the  bathroom.

We take separate  five-minute showers. I put on the boxer shorts underwear
I wore during  the drive here last night. I only had it on for a few hours
before changing  after a shower to John's too-small jockey shorts. I have
clean  jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie sweatshirt to wear. I'm  noticing a
headache building-up some steam, but I deserve  a hangover after grossly
over-imbibing last night. It's like one of  those things: don't do the crime if you
can't do the time. Without the  booze though, according to John Smith, most
of the buddy-sex and foreplay  during the last fifteen hours or so wouldn't
have been possible. When sober he  only feels comfortable 'topping' or
getting his Johnson sucked. He's still  not totally accepting of his sexuality,
but in time he's likely to get over his  hang-up in that regard... or not.

Actually, between Pony  and John Smith I'm catching-up on missed buddy-sex
from the second  half of last summer. It's Saturday morning and we're both
clean and sexually  satisfied as we take our satchels and clothes on-hangers
down to the  Jeep. I retrieve my bottle of Advil from my backpack and  we
then go back into the hotel. In the restaurant we order  breakfast and when
our orange juice and coffee arrive we both take three Advil  with the OJ.

There's not a lot of talking during breakfast because we're  in the clutches of
the hangovers we knew were coming. Finished breakfast we  haggle a little
over who should pay, both of us wanting to. John wins out  claiming our date
isn't over until we're back at my apartment. There isn't much  talking during
the ride back and the radio isn't even on as I drive  seventy-miles-an-hour
mostly on route 495 north.

At the apartment I help  John carry his stuff to his car where we bump
fist, and he asks, "When will  you be back from Christmas break?" I'm like,
"Don't know the exact date, John,  but it'll be during the first week of
January." He holds out his fist, I bump it again, saying, "Great date," and  he
grins, "I'll miss you, Dylan. So, Butch's bar for lunch that first week  of
January?" I say, "Can't wait." He gives a wave and drives off. As I'm
carrying my stuff up to the apartment it's almost like I can hardly believe  the
past eighteen hours. Nothing bad happened but it was a bit surreal. Maybe
seeing the three hundred different individuals there; a variety of gay  people
doing their own thing and harming no one is  the surreal part. No, John was
a surreal version of himself...  a good version from my perspective. Sure,
the group as a whole had  some odd affectations and most of them stray from
what's considered  normal by the majority, but then so do I so who am I to
judge? I don't judge  so there's no need to ponder my own rhetorical question.

Inside the apartment it  feels like I've been away longer than I was.

Dropping my satchel, I  examine my sports jacket and khaki pants deciding they
need to be dry  cleaned before I can wear them again. That means today or
tomorrow I'll need to  buy another sports jacket and slacks to wear while
working for Rob on  Monday. Following my normal put-it-off-till-tomorrow
philosophy I decide to  go to the Natick Mall on Sunday and get a new work outfit.

After work Monday  I'll drop off my blue blazer and khaki pants at the 24 hour
cleaners, or maybe the cleaners  are open on Sunday. With  the new clothes
I won't need to wear the same thing every day. I should have two sports
jackets anyway  now that I'm getting older. My hangover is in full bloom now so
I'm feeling less than spunky, but it's manageable. I take a deep  breath
and figure I might as well get my haircut out of the way. It's  only
twelve-thirty so I've plenty of time.

Parking on campus and  then when getting out of the Jeep I see Ryan's
roommate, Steve Church. He's  getting out of a new BMW. No way to avoid him.

There's no reason to  avoid except I'm not in the mood for small talk as I deal
with my hangover.  Oh yeah, and I just remembered that ugly scene in Ryan's
and Steve's dorm  room. So maybe that is a reason to avoid Steve, as I hear,
"Yo,  Dylan, wait up." Balls!
Okay, I just won't  bring that ugly scene subject up. Forcing a smile, I
go, "Hey, Steve, nice  ride you got there, dude." He looks back at the BMW,
"Oh yeah, thanks.  That's my mother's car. I just drove from home because I
forgot a few  things in the dorm. Christmas presents to be exact. I forgot the
damn things." I  ask, "Jesus, you're coming from home you say? Where the
fuck is home?"  He goes, "Oh, it's close. Salem, New Hampshire. I could have
commuted to  Merrimack I guess, but I wanted the full college experience." I
mumble, "Huh." For something to say, I ass, "I'm here on campus for Golden
Summers to..," and he interrupts, "Golden summers? What's that?" I chuckle,
"It's not a  thing, it's a person who gives haircuts, and..." he interrupts
again taking  off his hat, saying, "Speaking of haircuts. Look at this
shitty one your  ex-boyfriend gave me. It's a fuckin' disgrace!" I go, "Yeah, it
is, but  just so you know Ryan has never been my boyfriend."

Since he brought up the  subject, I go, "He gave you that disgrace of a
haircut and yet  you're going to subject yourself to another one during spring
break?"  He looks at me like I'm crazy, "No fuckin' way, dude! Jesus, do you
think I'm  insane?" I look a little surprised considering what Ryan told
me. Steve adds,  "And anyway he never said anything to me about doing spring
break  in Daytona Beach." I'm like, "Daytona Beach? Whaddaya  mean?"

We're walking towards  dormitory row now, as he says, "Bill Spears and I
already made our  reservations there for spring break. That's what I mean."

I'm like, "I thought  you were spending spring break in Georgia with Ryan." He
gives me another look  like I'm crazy, asking, "Why in the fuck would I do
that, Dylan?" I shrug,  "I don't know except that's what Ryan told me." He
goes, "What else did that  lying sack-of-shit tell you?" I go, "Hey, fuck
you. I'm not getting in between  any plans you two have." He stops and hold my
arm so I'll stop walking, "No,  seriously, Dylan, what'd he tell you? I mean
he and I don't have any  further plans together at all!" I say, "Um,
really? He told me you were looking  forward to another haircut experience in
Georgia. You know, like in your dorm  room when he let you suck his cock after
you got his  ridiculous haircut." He goes, "What...?" I shrug, "Didn't you
run right out  to buy that cheap set of home barber clippers so he'd have the
clippers to do  your haircut." He looks flabbergasted trying to say
something but he's just  moving his mouth with nothing coming out.

I light  a cigarette waiting for him to regain the use of his vocal chords.

His face  is red and he looks pissed. I'm like, "What is it, Steve?" and
then  I take a drag off the cigarette and immediately drop it on the ground
and step on it telling myself there's no smoking with a hangover, dummy!
Steve  takes a deep breath, regains his composure and says, "That  asshole told
you complete bullshit! What happened is he told me that if I let  him give
me the same haircut he was giving you and half a dozen  other guys back home,
he'd suck my cock, not the other  way around. And he'd already bought the
damn clippers; I didn't buy a fucking  thing!" Wow, he's pissed! Steve goes,
"Remember when I asked you to blow me and  you nicely said, 'no'." I go,
"Yeah, that time I was giving you a haircut."  He says, "Yes, a very nice
haircut; not like this shit," and he takes his  hat off again, almost shouting,
"And I told him, 'NO!'." I go,  chill out, bro." He nods his head and says in
his normal voice, "I turned him  down initially." I'm like, "Yeah, okay, I
believe you. You don't need to  yell. I'm hungover, dude. Please... Calm the
fuck down." He says, "I'm  so pissed off he's spreading lies about me I
could ring his fucking  neck!"

This is unbelievable. I  quietly asks, "You wanted  someone to blow you
though, right? If he said he would why'd you tell  him, 'no'?" He says,
"Because he was acting really creepy." I shrug, "But you  did go through with it in
the end." He goes, " Well later we shared a  joint I happened to have, and
then he had some joints laced with  cocaine but he didn't tell me about the
dope. So I didn't know about  the cocaine and I got high as the sky. Then he
somehow talked me into the  haircut. He was very persuasive and promised I
could fuck him too, which I  did." I'm nodding in disbelief, and he goes,
"Wait a minute! You were  there! You stopped in..." Holding up my hand, I
interrupt him, "Yeah, I  stopped in for a minute. Saw an ugly scene unfolding
and frankly I  didn't want to get involved, so I left."

We start walking again  as he's shaking his head, then he goes, "Plus, Ryan
swore on a stack of  Bibles he wouldn't tell anyone and the very next
morning he couldn't wait  to tell you those lies." We walk without talking for
ten-seconds, then I  ask, "What'd your girlfriend say when she saw your hair?"

He shrugs, "She said  to shave my fuckin' head. I told her the whole story
because she's the one who  dared me to have sex with a guy. She wanted me to
tell her about it. Heh heh,  she can be a sick bitch at times." Then he
goes, "All I did in that  regard was ask you if you'd blow me. That's all the
trying for sex with a  guy I did until Ryan got me high with those cocaine
joints." I go, "Um, how was  it. Ya know, him sucking your cock and you
fucking him." He  excitedly goes, "Oh, let me tell you, dude, you gay guys are
missing the  fucking boat! First off, my girlfriend sucks cock much better than
your  ex-boyfriend. Plus, heterosexual fucking is ten times hotter than
anal sex. I  was so high though I fucked the shit out of him, ha ha  ha."

I have nothing to say  to that, then he's recalling more of that night,
saying, "Oh man he was high  too. I'm slamming my cock up his ass and he's
doing all this whimpering and  jerking on his cock. After he had this big climax
he wanted seconds, but we  were coming down off our high and I never got
around to fucking him  again." I'm frowning at him,  finding it all hard to
believe.  He looks at me, "Dylan, he was acting  so weird asking permission if
he could go to the lavatory to take a  piss, or asking if I wanted him to
suck my cock again. He freaked me out even  though I was so high I didn't
know where we were! And another thing... I  had to close my eyes and not look
down and see Ryan sucking my cock. I had  to think of a girl sucking my dick
before I could even get hard.  Sex with Ryan blew! Jeez, ha ha ha, I just
remembered I put on two  condoms, one on top of the other before sticking my
dick up his nasty asshole.  Heh heh, the outside condom got pulled off in his
ass and he had a  hell of a time getting it out... ha ha! I almost fainted
laughing my ass off  so hard. With the pot I  couldn't stop fuckin'
laughing. Jesus!" Then he blows out a long exhale, and  says, "Yeah, I'm laughing
now too, but believe me I shudder with  embarrassment thinking about it.

Knowing I'd never see him again was my saving  grace, and then he goes and tells
you." Wow, that's quite a story and I  believe every word of it. Steve's
well known for having no filter between  his thoughts and what comes out of his
mouth. Ryan... you  sick-fuck liar!
Steve stops walking,  mumbling, "Oh, here's where I need to turn off,
Dylan. We part company for  now but for real, would you do me a major solid. I'll
always be grateful if  you'll keep this Ryan shit between just the two of
us, please!" Patting his  shoulder, I'm like, "Sure, I promise, Steve, but
you'll owe me one." He grins,  "Yeah, I'll owe you one, but nothing sexual,
right?" I say, "You're very safe  there, Stevie-boy. Believe it or not I have
less than zero sexual interest  in you." He laughs, muttering, "Hard to
believe," then, "Thanks, Dylan!" He  walks off as I marvel at the depth of
depravity Ryan's sunk to. What a liar!  Hey, I wonder if he's lying about Jeff
too. Maybe Jeff isn't moving in with him  at that apartment and maybe he's not
even enrolled at that Georgia  University. Maybe Ryan doesn't even have an
apartment. Oh man, he's worse off  than I thought. Yeah, but fuck him; he
told me to never text him  again.

I'm at Golden's  dormitory now trying to think of a way to describe how I'd
like my  hair cut. Nothing radical obviously. After saying that the fact is
I  haven't had a haircut in over ten weeks so it does need cutting and my
last  haircut wasn't much and it was from Golden. I could ask for a  regular
trim except everyone has a different vision of what that  means. Walking
inside the dormitory I can't help but notice the lack of  noise that's present
in any dorm I've ever been in. The reason for the lack  of noise obviously
is that most students have already left for  Christmas break. Golden's room
is two doors down on the first floor. I  knock and hear, "C'mon in." Inside I
see a squat-shaped guy  lying on one of the unmade beds and a tall guy
getting his  dark-brown hair cut. I'm pretty sure they're  both freshman. Golden
says, "Hey, Dylan. Thanks for coming early. I wanna  get on the road as
soon as I can." I mumble, "How ya doing, Golden,"  and sit in the vacant desk
chair. The other desk chair is being used as  the barber chair.

I watch Golden run  the clippers too far up the tall kid's head with an
inch-and-a-half of dark  brown hair tumbling off the clipper's blade. Jesus,
that makes my dick quiver.  The squat kid on the bed finishes a joke he was
telling as I came in. The tall  kid groans at the punch line, and
sarcastically says, "You're gonna  make me pee my pants if ya tell any more of those
dip-shit jokes, Tucker."  Tucker is one of those geeks who think you need to
open your mouth wide  when you smile or laugh, which is what he's doing now,
saying,  "That was funny, ya faggot!" Jesus, that big open mouth is so creepy
 and from here I could see that thingie that hangs down at the back of his
throat; I think it's called a uvula. Things like that bother me when I'm
hungover. Hell, they bother me when I'm sober. Golden finishes butchering
the tall guy's hair and says, "You're up next, Tucker." Tucker gets  off the
bed smiling again with his mouth wide open, then he says to  the tall guy
with the shitty haircut, "See ya next year, Sullivan." The  tall kid says, "Not
if I see you first," which might be the oldest and by  far lamest retort in
history. I look down to avoid seeing the geek's  open-mouth smile again.

Even with  my hangover I still get a buzz in my nuts watching Golden
casually give  this guy's unruly black hair a tight buzz cut. Wow, Golden shows no
mercy  but when it's finished Tucker seems pleased saying, "Thanks,
Golden," and  appears to mean it. Now it's just Golden and me. I sit in the  barber
chair with Golden draping the barber cape around me. Some of  the squat
guy's black hairs are still on the cape so I hit the cape  from underneath
fluffy it up so the hairs slide off. Golden asks, "Just  a trim, Dylan?" I'm not
sure what 'a trim' means to him, but it  sounds safe enough so I reply,
"Yeah, thanks" and then I do a little  brown-nosing because it can't hurt. I
go, "And I don't think you get enough  credit for doing these haircuts for us
guys, Golden. It's wicked convenient  getting haircuts on campus and, um,
well-priced ones too." He  chuckles, "Yep, nothing's much better-priced than
free," and he starts  using the trimming clippers to do the number-one thing
I don't want  him to do, which is block off the hair at the back of my head.

I feel him using  the clippers in an even line across my neck and probably
doing it too  fucking high up from the hairline. Dammit! He does it three
times  making sure it's straight across the back leaving a blunt half-inch
deep line of  hair across the back of my head. Turning off the trimmer
clippers, he asks, "You  guys hear anything from the twin bitches: Frankie, and the
queen of  bitches, Beth?" He used to date Beth.

I can picture my long  hairs at the back of my head coming to an abrupt
halt above my hairline at the  neck. Neck shaved clean as a whistle and then
BANG there's a  squared-off block of hair. Golden chuckles, "Yo, Dylan, you
hungover like a  mother-fucker or what? I asked if you or Rob have heard
anything from  the girls?" Stupidly, I ask, "Um, do you mean Beth and Frankie?"

He laughs,  "What other girls hooked-up with you gay guys?" I go, "Ha, yeah,
just them. Um,  no, we haven't seen them for like a month or so, but Frankie
and Rob talk on the  phone once in a while." He combs up the hairs covering
most of my left ear  and runs the clippers down the comb cutting off the
hair and exposing  my ear, which is a good thing. Remembering Beth accusing me
of telling Golden  about the abortion and her thinking that was the reason
Golden dumped her,  so I'm like, "You stopped going out with Beth, right?"

Golden  says, "Yeah, I dumped that cunt because she had a weird and  abrupt
personality change. She got bitchy, like she hated guys and I  finally told
her to get lost. A shame actually because she was damn good in  the sack, but
her attitude sucked! It wasn't worth it."

As he does the same  cutting of the hair covering my other ear, I ask,
"When did you tell her to  get lost?" He cuts a small amount of hair off above
one ear and then the other  ear, saying, "Um, I dumped her sometime after the
Halloween party. No,  it was closer to Thanksgiving now that I think about
it. Why?" I mutter, "No  reason." Huh, that's around the time Rob and
Frankie had sex with a faulty  condom. Golden picks up thinning shears and a comb,
saying, "I think Beth got  pissed-off because a guy she was hustling ended
up going out with  Frankie. It was about the same time she got pissed-off at
me because, um,  because I'm a guy I guess" He lifts some hair over my ear
with a  comb and closes the thinning scissors a few times with a small
scattering of hairs falling on my shoulder. I ask tentatively, "Are you  saying
Frankie had a serious boyfriend around the time of the Halloween party?"  He
goes, "Maybe a couple of weeks after Halloween. Beth didn't want me to  say
anything about it to Rob though, but fuck he's gay so why would he  care,
ya know?" He thins out the hairs minimally over my other ear and then  uses
the trimmer clippers to outline around my ears and behind them.  He takes off
the cape and shakes off the few hairs he cut from my head.  That's my
entire haircut?
Golden says, "Anyway I  dumped Beth for good and it was definitely a couple
of weeks after that.  I'd had enough of her pissy attitude." He goes on to
tell me about the  freshman girl he's seeing now, but I'm only half
listening. I'm thinking that  Frankie was going out with this boyfriend that she
stole from Beth much  before her and Rob tried that pathetic heterosexual sex
using a  tampered-with condom. What the fuck? Frankie was going out with a
guy so why did  she still insist going through with the sex that Rob was
reluctant to do in  the first place? Then both girls stopped coming around after
that, so was it all  about the bet she had with Beth? Damn, poor  Robby!
"Is something wrong,  Dylan?" I'm like, "What? Oh, um, no. Whaddaya mean?"

He laughs, "Well you looked  like you were really pissed off at something
there for a minute." He passes  me the hand-held mirror as I mumble, "Oh, I've
got a world class  hangover, that's all." He mutters, "I've been there,
dude. Whaddaya think  about the haircut?" I look at my reflection in the mirror
and can't tell  I've had a haircut because the hairs that he cut off over
my ears I was  combing back with the help of some hair gel, so it basically
looks almost  exactly the way it looked when first I sat in the barber chair.

I go, "It's  perfect, Golden... thanks." What else am I gonna say? He goes,
"Can you give me  a hand sweeping up the hairs?" Well 99.9 percent of the
hair on the floor aren't  mine, but I helped him anyway, asking, "Did Beth
mention anything to  you about Frankie and Rob?" He goes, "No, not really.

What was there to  say? Frankie and Beth were a couple of snatches who wanted
to  hang out with some gay guys. Hey, no offense intended. I think you and
Rob are  some of the coolest dudes at Merrimack." I mutter, "No offense taken,
Golden." I  wanted to add, 'and thanks for the free non-haircut' but I
don't. Why  would I? He did what he thinks a trim is.

We've got most of the  cut hairs from earlier haircuts in the trash when a
guy with a severely  over-grown buzz-cut sticks his head in the door. Golden
says, "Oh, now  the Merrimack baseball team's back-up catcher appears, late
as usual."  The back-up catcher says, "Summers, honest to God I'll be back
in like twenty  minutes. Dude, I need a haircut before going home so please
wait for me. I  gotta talk real quickly to Professor dick-head about the
grade he gave  me on the Lit final. I'll be right back." Golden shakes his head
slowly,  mumbling, "Why'd I ever start this?" I go, "We all appreciate it,
Golden,"  but I don't mention that I'm never coming back. He pats my
shoulder, saying  seriously, "Hey, you're a good barber, right?" I say modestly,
"I've been  told that a couple of hundred times, yeah." He laughs, then says,
"Well I'm  thinking of finally giving up this ponytail and I was hoping
you'd give  it some thought for after the break. You know about  what haircut
would look cool. On me I mean." I nod, "I'd be honored,  Golden."

As I'm putting my coat on, he  says, "Nothing definite yet but I'm really
getting sick of this fucking ponytail  and Rob claims you're a better barber
than me, so I trust you." I  nod, wanting to get out of here and lie down
for a nap before  checking out how Chubby's doing. I say, "You and I will come
up with something,  Golden, and thanks for the haircut." Walking back to
the Jeep I'm thinking  that I still need a haircut. Perhaps I have greatly
over-estimated Golden's haircutting ability. Maybe that first good  haircut
from him was a fluke. I'm telling Robby that not only am I not  availing
myself of Golden's free haircut massacrers in the future, but he isn't either.

I'm taking over Robby's haircuts and he can take over mine. He actually got
half-ass good at it during freshman year so I think I can talk him through
it  for hopefully better results than I've been getting from Golden. I mean
Rob's not really mentoring Golden anymore and Golden will be happy to have
two  less guys bumming free haircut from him. It's not like he enjoys doing
it,  unlike myself.

Driving back to the  apartment I can't stop feeling the back of my head.

The back of my neck is  shaved and then I feel a pile of hair. From nothing to
about a half-inch thick  pile of hair. Why can't anyone see how wrong that
is? Finally, I'm telling  myself: STOP IT!   It simply isn't that important.

I'm looking forward to a  nap to help get rid of this hangover. And I'd
also like to get home before  mom leaves for work at four o'clock. At the
apartment, to torture myself, I  hold a hand-held mirror in front of my face
while I have my back to the  mirror over the bathroom sink and gawk at the
squared off hair across my  neck. It's not as terrible as I thought so maybe
something can be  done with it after all. Yeah, although I don't know what that
might be at  this moment because I need some sleep.

After taking three more  Advil I lie on the bed thinking about Robby. That
calms me down and I drift off  to sleep for almost two hours. Getting up
groggy I stagger into the bathroom,  take a piss and then wash my face and
hands. Back in the kitchen I'm  drinking a Coke thinking it's past the time I
should have called Chubby but  he can probably use the extra sleep. I was
going to wait until two  o'clock but I slept until almost three. Of course now I
can't get home before  mom leaves for work so I text mom saying I'm sorry
but I'm behind  schedule and won't get there in time to see her this
afternoon. She texts  right back telling me not to worry about it because we'll have
over a month  together before the second semester begins. Moms can almost
always be counted on  to understand things.

Finishing the Coke, I  happily realize I'm feeling okay now. The hangover
is under control. The  extra Advil and that nap were the perfect remedy. I
hit Chubby's name  on my cellphone and immediately hear, "Hello? Um, Dylan?" I
go, "Yeah, Chub, ya  ready to go home?" He's laughing, then saying, "Bro, I
picked up my cellphone to  call 911 and you were on the line." I go, "911?
What's the emergency?" He says,  "There isn't any. I just felt like calling
911." Shaking my head, I get it  now... he's ballooned. He's still hammered.

Taking a deep breath to be  calm when I ask, "How much sleep did you get
last night, Chubby?" He laughs  again, "That would be, um, none. I just got in
twenty minutes ago. Hey, bro, I  lost a shot-drinking competition to four
freshmen. It was humiliating, Dylan! When we  going home?" He's slurring his
words and stringing them all together. I say,  "I'm coming over to get you
right now. And Chubby, listen to  me... do not fucking go to sleep until I
get there. Ten minutes!" He  says, "You're awesome," which sounded like
'awshousum'.

Fuck! Grabbing  my satchel and the clothes I want to take to the cleaners,
I hustle down to  the Jeep. If I don't get there quickly and he falls asleep
it'll be almost  impossible to get him in the Jeep. Disregarding all the
rules of driving on  campus, I drive down dormitory row in broad daylight and
park on  the sidewalk in front of Chubby's dormitory, then run up to his
room.  Opening the door, I see Chubby is still on his cellphone, saying to
someone, "See, I promised to call you, Barb, and I'm doing it. Um, where  did I
meet you anyway, your number was..." Then he yells, "No I don't know  any
fucking body named Carol Ann....." Then he stops talking because  he sees me
and goes, "Dylan!" Then he slurs in the phone, "No, fuck that! I  know your
name is Barb! I was talking to my brother and oh my God you should see  how
beautiful he is... what?" I stop listening to his meandering conversation
with whoever and glance at Chub's roommate, John Beverly, who is dead to  the
world lying fully dressed half on and half off his unmade  bed.

I get  Chubby's satchel out of the closet, the satchel he never thinks  to
use and start taking clothes out of his bureau drawers realizing most of
his clothes are on the floor where he dropped them getting undressed the  past
week or so. There's a combination of John Beverly's clothes and Chubby's so
 I'm sorting through them picking up ones I recognize as Chubby's. When the
 satchel's full I run it out to the Jeep and then get right back to get his
 toiletry kit off the bureau. I need to pick up everything off the bureau
top and put it in the kit. For all I know half the stuff I'm  taking is John
Beverly's. Chubby is still talking to someone on his  cellphone, saying in
slurred words, "Are you sure you didn't  fuckin' call me because why am I
talking to you unless..." I take the phone  from his fingers, saying into it,
"Jeff fell asleep. Merry Christmas," and hit  'end' then put the phone in my
pocket, telling Chubby, "Come on, Chub, we're  going home." He looks
confused, then mumbles, "Did that bitch hang-up on me?"  I'm lifting him with a
hand under each armpit, muttering, "No, she wished  you a Merry Christmas."

I've got him on his feet and he looks over at John  Beverly, slurring, "John
Beverly just can't do shots, Dylan. I told him fifty  times...." I'm like,
"C'mon, Chub," and he puts a finger to his lips going,  "Shhhh, don't wake
John."

We stumble out the  door and over to the Jeep. I get him in the passenger
seat and click his  seatbelt. Closing the door, I let out a big exhale,
saying out-loud, "That  went pretty well." By the time I walk around the Jeep to
get in the  driver's seat, Chub's deep asleep. Okay then, our Christmas
break is officially  on...

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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