Date: Wed, 14 Jan 2015 10:18:44 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR Chapter   29

DYLAN'S  SOPHOMORE YEAR


Chapter   29


by  Donny Mumford




Around eight o'clock Friday night I'm following Sonny up the basement
steps of my condo enjoying the view of his cute ass. The ass I just got finished
 screwing. Me 'topping' Sonny was his request by the way, and a totally
unexpected turn of events I must say! I think maybe fucking Sonny's fine rear
end tonight was hotter than topping Robby a couple of mornings ago. That's
mostly because Robby and I had already fucked twice that morning with him
doing  the 'topping' honors. Any third sex act within a two to three hour
period, at  least for me, isn't going to match up to the first one of the day
which is what  this sex tonight was for me and Sonny. This morning was one of
the few mornings  this semester Robby and I didn't get up in time for sex
before classes. Sonny  was my first side-sex in awhile too, but I'm not even
sure if it counts because  I 'topped' him, which sort of puts it in more of
a 'novelty' category than  regular side-sex. Or, maybe not... why split
hairs.


We grab bottles of Snapple from the refrigerator and go out on the  balcony
to drink them and smoke a cigarette. Sonny bums another Marlboro from me
and I hold my lighter for him to light his smoke. His head bends down to the
lighter and my fingers run through his shiny orange/red hair which I'll be
cutting shortly. He looks up smirking cutely at me and as he exhales some
smoke,  he mumbles, "You still got a crush on me, don'cha? Don't lie!" He's
been a flirt  from the night I met him early last summer. It was the night he
sat on my lap on  our way to watch Ray's basketball game. We didn't know
each other at all, but he  still squirmed on my lap trying to get my dick
hard, and he succeeded if I  recall correctly. What a hot ass on that kid. I
mumble sarcastically, "Yeah  sure, Sonny, I got a crush on you, but then who
could resist your charm?"  Lighting my cigarette I inhale some nicotine, which
is what gets a person hooked  on cigarettes I'm told. Blowing smoke out,
I'm curious, "Did you have any  trouble cutting back on these cancer sticks,
Sonny?" He shakes his head, "Nah, I  was only smoking three or four
cigarettes a day most days. Now most days I don't  smoke any. Basically I've given-up
buying them, heh heh. When someone else is  smoking, I'll smoke if they
offer me one. Most of the guys I know don't smoke  anyway. Why do you ask, are
you thinking about quitting?" I shrug noncommittally  trying to remember how
and why I started smoking. Well I know why... it was to  look cool. At
least I I thought it was cool, but when did I start? I think it  was eight grade
when I bought my first pack. Mostly I just wanted to have it in  my shirt
pocket for other guys to see. Then they'd know I was, 'that dude'.  Stupid,
but whaddaya gonna do. Kids! Now it's a habit, one of many I've  picked-up
over my lifetime. To his question, I say, "I'm thinking about,  'thinking
about', quitting," and blow smoke at his cute face.


Sonny waves his hand at my exhaled smoke, saying, "Dude, don't do that.  Ya
know, tonight when I asked you to fuck me after the shampoo, it totally
blew  my mind. I had no idea I was going to do that. You're dangerously sexy,
ya know  that?" I go, "That absurd, Sonny, I'm no more sexy than a lot of
guys. Admit it,  you're just a horny kid exploring your sexuality. It's not
that big a deal." He  asks, "Didn't fucking me turn you on?" I shrug, "Hell
yeah, whaddaya think?  You're a cute guy with a hot body, and I'm gay. Why
wouldn't I be turned-on?" He  blows exhaled smoke away from us, then mumbles,
"Well, don't get your hopes up  about an encore performance because there
ain't gonna be one. I'm the dominant  sex partner here, and you're my submissive
'boy', right?" He's picking at the  back of his pants as he asked that
question. Some of my cum has probably drooled  out of his rectum and it's
sticky. I go, "Yeah, we can play it that way if you  want, sure. The key word here
is 'play', as in sex play. Don't let it go to your  head 'cause my
boyfriend is gonna be my boyfriend forever. We, you and me,  Sonny, are merely
casual sex-buddies." He says, "And friends too, right?" I nod  my head, mumbling,
"Yeah, that too. Hey, are you really screwing that kid,  Giggles, three
times a week?" He shrugs, "One week I did. The first week we did  it. Man, that
was hot!" and he grabs his junk, then adds, "Since then we don't  do it so
much." I'm like, "Huh." Nice to know Sonny's truthful anyway. Most guys
would go the other way and exaggerate their sexual exploits.


To make conversation, I ask, "Have you ever been in love, Sonny? Romantic
love is what I'm talking about?" He emphatically says, "Fuck no! Definitely
not.  I haven't come close to being in romantic love and I'm not even sure
I'd  recognize it if I ever run into it. I kinda doubt I ever will though,
but I've  sure had my share of crushes on guys at school. Horribly painful
crushes that  blind my brain for awhile. Secret crushes only I knew about.
Puppy love I  guess." I say, "Yeah, young love is a powerful thing, but often
stupid too." He  points his cigarette at me, saying, "You know, you and Ray
were my inspiration  for coming clean about being gay. First I came 'out' to
the posse boys, and then  my other friends. Surprisingly no one seemed to
give much of a shit about it. It  was like, 'Oh yeah, dude? Cool!'. Then last
week I told my parents and they've  been super supportive. I expected more
support from Devon though, but instead  he's acting funny about it." Hmmm,
"Yeah, funny like how?" Sonny shrugs, "I  don't know, I can't put my finger on
it. He tells me to be myself, but without a  lot of brotherly love like I
expected." I go, "He's a good guy, Sonny. Maybe he  isn't sure what the right
thing to do or say is." I'm thinking maybe Devon's  wondering if Sonny and I
have done it together. He would probably think that's  it's disloyal of me
somehow since Devon and me have done it too. Not wanting to  bring Devon any
further into our conversation, I mumble, "You know, I'm not at  all sure if
I feel good about being partially responsible for you coming 'out'  to your
parents. Did you mention me when you told them?" He goes, "Of course  not!
Anyway, what's it feel like to be in love?" Oh, back to that. I shrug
stepping on my cigarette butt, then say, "I don't think I can describe it.
People in literature have tried putting it into words for like centuries. If you
ask me, a lot of what's been said about love is corny and hackneyed. Stuff
you  read on greeting cards, that kinda shit. Everyone sees love differently
I guess.  Like, lets say there's this husband and wife at the mall. The
wife's doing  something she loves to do... she's shopping. During her shopping
she realizes  her husband has gone missing. She looks all over for him, but
he's nowhere to be  found. Finally she thinks to call his cell phone, mad at
herself for not  thinking of it sooner. The husband answers right away
speaking quietly and  calmly, nothing out of the ordinary. She wants to know
where he is and he tells  her, 'Remember that jewelry store we were in two
years ago and you fell in love  with that diamond necklace we couldn't afford,
and I promised to get it for you  one day?' The wife gets all choked-up and
emotional, a tender loving moment. She  gets over emotional and starts to
sob, saying, 'Yes, dear, yes I remember.' The  husband say, 'Well, I'm in the
bar next door'. You see, that was almost a love  story, right? The wife felt
it was gonna be romantic and the husband was simply  being specific about
where he was."


Sonny chuckles, "That was a joke, right?" I go, "Somebody apparently
thought so, yeah." He shakes his head, "You're cool, Dylan. It's fun hanging out
with you." I'm like, "Huh! How about I do your haircut now. What's it gonna
be?  What kind of haircut do you want?" He flicks his cigarette butt off
the railing  and it comes right back at him. I mutter, "You're spastic!" He
grins and kicks  it off the balcony and we walk inside. Sonny's running his
fingers through his  clean, just shampooed hair, as I ask again, "What kind of
haircut are you  thinking you'll get?" Going down the steps to the
basement, he says, "I don't  know what it's called, but have you noticed this
outrageous new haircut that's  short on the sides and back, but long on top?" Huh,
I was just thinking about  that exact haircut not too long ago. As I get
the clippers out and plug them  both in, I'm like, "What a coincidence, Sonny,
I looked that hair style up on  Google recently because it intrigued me.
You know, I Googled, 'Men's hair  trends'. The haircut's got an odd name,
'Short Sides with Disconnected Top'.  Weird huh?" Sonny shrugs, "Whatever it's
called, that's what I'm leaning towards  getting. Terry Byers, my bud at
school, got a haircut like that and he dared me  to get one just like it.
Frankly I think it's fucking hot. It's like ballsy and  sexy too, ya know?" He
sits on the barber stool as I go, "Yeah, I gotta agree  with you, it is ballsy
and sexy because it's like so radical. Is this kid gay?"  Sonny makes a
face, "Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure he's not." I mutter, "Most  guys aren't."

Standing behind Sonny I pull his sweatshirt up and he lifts his arms so I
can pull the thing over his head. Then his tee-shirt comes off and wow, he's
has  a really nice scent drifting off his hot little pinkish-white body. I
enjoyed it  when he took his shirt off for the shampoo and I'm enjoying it
again right now.  It's like his personal scent is captured inside his shirt,
building-up in  intensity until released by taking off the shirt; then poof,
a smell of  concentrated Sonny. Curious, I ask, "Sonny, does this kid
you're fucking,  Giggles, ever mention how good you smell?" He looks at me like
I'm crazy, "What?  No, he never said anything like that. Do I have BO or
something?" I go, "No,  don't be ridiculous, but haven't you noticed how
different guys have different  scents? Some with a sexy scent?" He says, "Um, no,
Dylan, I don't go around  smelling guys. Do you?" Huh, that's weird! "No, I
don't do that either but when  I'm being intimate with a guy I notice his
scent, if he has one. It's called  pheromones, which is the scent given off and
perceived one way or another by  different people, depending on something.
I don't know exactly how it works, but  you should Google it because it's a
real thing." He mutters, "I probably won't do that, but how about my
haircut?" I'm like, "Yeah, well, in the article for  men's hair trends they say a
number one guide is used, which is aggressively  short, all the way up the
sides of the head until the head start to round. Then  in the back all the way
up to the crown," and I touch the crown that's at the  top, back of his
head. He goes, "Holy shit, that sounds scary short. How long is  the hair on
top?" I go, "I wouldn't even touch the hair on top of your head, not  for this
haircut anyway because the article said it should be longer than your  hair
is right now. They say four inches, but I've seen hair longer than that on
top. You know, I've seen pictures in magazines. Oh, have you seen the lead
singer for the rock group, 'The 1775'? He has a version of that haircut
with  really long hair on top." Sonny turns his head to look at me, "What do
you  think, Dylan, should I do it?"

I take this opportunity to run my fingers through his hair again, saying,
"Jeez, I don't want to influence you, Sonny. How short is the hair on the
sides  and back of your friend at school?" He shrugs, "I don't know exactly,
but it  looked like bare clippers were used, almost shaved." Hmmm, "Well,
like I said  it's recommended a number one clipper blade which leaves the hair
at between  one-eight and one-sixteenth of an inch long, something like
that. And yeah,  that's almost bare clippers length, although clippers without a
guide leave hair  half the length of a number one guard." He's like, "One
thirty-second of an  inch?" I go, "Yep, about that. What's it gonna be?" He's
making a face, then  mutters, "Maybe I'm chickening out. Talk me into it,
Dylan, I really want to try  it." Hmmm, it'd be awesome fun cutting his hair
that wicked short, and I'm  interested in seeing if I can make it look
right. Still, it's gotta be his  choice. "You gotta decide, Sonny, I'm not going
to influence you one way or the  other. I'm just the barber following
orders." Sonny, always a ballsy confident  kid anyway, goes, "Fuck it, lets do it.
Use the number one whatever." Oh  boy...


Before he changes his mind, I put the number one guard on the clippers  and
turn them on. Putting my left hand on top of his head to push it forward a
little, I steadily run the clippers all the way up the back of his head.
Lots  and lots of orange/red hair tumbles off the professional barber clippers
and  across my hand, some falling on his shoulders and some down to the
floor. For  this first cut I ran the clippers a tiny bit over the crown. The
contrast  between the very short almost nonexistent hairs and longer ones is
the  'disconnected top' part of the haircut's name. The clippers go up the
back of  his head again right next to the first cut with me being careful to
stop exactly  where the first cut stopped. I repeat this a number of times
causing tons of  shiny hair, so silky and fine, to tumble away severed forever
from his head and  destined for the trash bin. It's a little scary because
cutting someone's hair  this short is uncharted territory for me, and
certainly for Sonny. At the same  time it's kind of cool doing it. Finished the
back, I'm really feelin' it now  and start on the right side of his head at
the sideburn taking the clippers,  tight against his scalp, way up the side of
his head to just where there's  obvious rounding, and do that over and over
with almost all his hair falling  away. As I use the clippers I'm
continuing to hold Sonny's head still with my  left hand in the hair on top of his
head, pushing his head over to the left a  little. These clippers do their job
effortlessly. Sonny hasn't murmured a word  so far and now I start on the
left side of his head. More hairs fall over my  hand, lots of them, some
drifting to his lap or shoulders, but mostly they  end-up on the floor. It's
been a blizzard of orange/red hairs falling around us  as almost three inches
of hair is sheared off close to his whitish scalp all  around the sides and
back of his head. When there's no more hair to cut on the  sides and back, I
go over everything again to make sure it's even, then turn the  clippers
off. Sonny, in this scared little boy's voice I haven't heard him use  before,
asks, "How's it look, Dylan?"


Moving the back of my fingers up against  the side of his head, I think,
'Sandpaper' because that's what it feels like.  The tiny bit of hair that's
left around his head is so short it looks pale red,  not orange, so that's
good anyway. It feels odd against the back of my fingers  and it looks kinda
fucked-up to be honest about it. Hmmm, I'll try doing a small  amount of
tapering on the side where the long hairs start. I start on the left  side where
a part would be, if there was any hair to make a part, which there  isn't.
I'm hoping this improves the look, so I mumble, "Um, I need to do a  little
more work, but with a comb and scissors now, so keep your head still.  I'll
tell you how it looks when I'm done with the scissors." Sonny's like, "Oh
fuck, that doesn't sound encouraging." Ignoring that, I use a comb and
scissors  to cut the slightest adjustment in length along where a part would be
and then  blunt the long hairs on the right side of his head where it meets
the shaved  part. Then a little tapering at the crown and it immediately im
proves the look  of the haircut. Prior to seeing a number of guys with this
haircut,  like when I first saw Julian Endelman of the Patriots, I thought it
looked like  a shitty home haircut. The more I saw the haircut on guys
though, the shock of  seeing it lessens and it began to seem cool. Perception is a
weird thing, ain't  it? A little more scissor work and then I use the
trimmers to outline around  Sonny's ears and it's as good as it's going to get. I
comb the long hairs on top  across to the right side of his head, and say,
"It looks exactly like you'd  expect it to look, Sonny. I like it, but it's
pretty extreme as you already know  from your friend. Here take a look for
yourself," and I pass him the handheld  mirror. He looks, feels the extremely
short hairs on the back of his head, runs  his fingers through the long
hairs, then says, "Help me convince myself this was  a good idea, Dylan." I'm
like, "No seriously, Sonny, it's cool. As with anything  it's a matter of
opinion as to what's cool and what's not, of course. I'll tell  you this much:
if I could grow my hair out long enough, I'd get a haircut just  like this
myself," which puts me near the 4000 mark with my little white lies  total.
"No, I do think it looks cool, but they'll be those style-challenged
individuals who won't like it because it's so new and different." He says, "I've
gotta get used to it, I guess. Same thing when you gave us posse boys crew
cuts  last summer. It's a matter of getting use to the change." I say, "Just
for the  record, that was Ray's idea, not mine."

I'm brushing hairs off his skinny shoulders, then I give him a hug and a
kiss, saying, "It's a cool do, dude." He grins, saying, "Yeah, well, don't
you  expect to be growing your hair out long enough for this hair style. Not
if I  have anything to say about it." I'm shaking my head, "Sonny, you're not
cutting  my hair. I told you that ten times already." He gets off the stool
brushing long  hairs off his lap, mumbling, "We'll see about that," then he
looks around, and  goes, "Holy shit, look at all the hair on the floor!"
I'm like, "Yeah, well..."  and put away the barber tools. I've got this
toiletry kit I use now to hold the  barber stuff because I keep carrying it back
and forth to Merrimack. Sonny can't  stop feeling the sandpaper-hair at the
back of his head, finally shrugging and I  suppose admitting to himself
what's done can't be undone. He says,  unconvincingly, "Yeah, it's cool. Thanks,
Dylan! Thanks for dinner and the  haircut. Let's take a ride over to
Treadwells and see if any of the guys are out  tonight. I wanna see what they
think." I was kinda looking forward to Sonny  dominating my ass sexually tonight.
It's been awhile since I've had a sub/dom  sex experience. Acting too
anxious for it though sorta takes away from the  dominant part. It'd be like I'm
asking him to dominate me which detracts from it  somehow. So, I say, "Sure
thing, assuming it hasn't started raining again.  Riding a motorbike in the
rain isn't what I call fun."



I can't stop looking a Sonny's haircut as we go upstairs. I think this  new
style works better on guys who have a little darker hair coloring than
Sonny's. Light brown at least, and I wouldn't do it for a blond unless he
insisted. Sonny's cute though so at the top of the steps I get him in a headlock
 and run my fingers first over the sandpaper part at the back and then into
the  luxurious long hairs on top. He squirms out of my hold, muttering,
"Stop it!  What the fuck?" I go, "I just want you to know that you look damn
cool, Sonny.  It's really a cute 'do' on you." Now he's running his fingers
through his long  hairs gazing at himself in the wall mirror over the sofa.
"Yeah, this cut is  growing on me. I'm liking it more each time I look at it."
I mumble, "Trend  starter! Sonny, that's you." Then my doorbell rings. Who
the fuck is that? Sonny  and I look at each other, then I shrug and open the
door. Dawg and another posse  boy, brainiac Manny, stand there grinning at
me. Dawg has a plastic bag of  something by his side and behind him is a
smaller, younger version of himself.  The younger version is sullen, looking at
me out of the corner of his eye, and  he's not smiling. I didn't know he
had a younger brother, but that's who it's  gotta be. Dawg, Manny, and I look
at each other for another second or two, then  I shrug holding my palms out,
like "What's up?' Dawg says, "Oh, we saw Sonny's  buddy, Giggles, at the
mall and he said Sonny was getting his haircut tonight."  He nods his head at
Manny, adding, "We thought maybe we could get our haircut  too, and, um,
maybe my little brother, if you don't mind." The little brother  looks away and
coughs out, "Eff that..." Dawg makes a face at him, then tells  me, "I'm
baby sitting him tonight. This is Charles, Charles say hello to,  Dylan."
Charles coughs, but again it's not really a cough; it's covering up  Charles
saying, "Eat me." He said it to either me or Dawg, I'm not sure which  one.


Frowning, I say, "Wassup, Charles?" and hold out my fist to bump, but he
looks away and it's like there's some kind of expectancy under the attitude.
Dawg says, "He's at a difficult age." I ask, "How old are you, Charles, "He
 cough into his fist, "Up yours," and Dawg says, "Charles, be nice!" then
to me,  "He's twelve till next month, then he'll be a teenager." I go, "Oh,
still a  tweener huh, Charles?" thinking to myself, 'Well this probably
totally fuck's-up  the sub/dom possibilities with Sonny tonight'. Dawg and Manny
are not gay boys,  and Charles is too young to even think about. Sonny worms
his way in front of  me, asking, "Whaddaya you guys thing of my haircut?"
They both open their eyes  wide, then Manny points at Sonny, "Hey, you copied
that haircut from that  Patriot guy, Julian what's-his-name." Sonny goes,
"No I didn't, Manny, I copied  it from a bud of mine at school, ya dumb
shit." Then he grins and goes to do the  posse boy greeting. Dawg puts down the
bag he was holding and joins in and we  all end up doing it, minus Charles,
who looking at us like we have two heads.  Whatever happened to idolizing
your older brother? Then I glance at all Dawg's  piercing's and tattoos, and
figure, 'Well, yeah, there's that'. I don't hardly  noticing them on Dawg
anymore. When I first saw him though my eyes just about  bugged out of my head.
I mumble, "You boys broke-up the posse, so why are we  still doing this
greeting?" Dawg gives me a nice hug, saying, "We like doing it,  don't we guys?"
Manny says, "Yeah, we're not misanthropes, Dylan." I go, "Um,  I'm not
either! I don't think I am anyway."


They come inside and Sonny's like, "Well, whaddaya think?" meaning his
haircut. Manny says, "You're styling, Sonny, no doubt about it. I don't think I
 could pull off that look myself though." Charles is pouting and looking
bored  leaning up against the front door with his arms folded across his
chest. Dawg  says, in his quiet way, "I couldn't pull it off either, but it's
cool on you,  Sonny," and Sonny tells them, "You watch, this haircut is gonna
be on everyone  by the end of the year. Remember in like second grade when we
all made fun of  the first kid with a mushroom haircut, and then before the
end of the year we  all ended up getting that haircut? This is gonna be
that all over again." Manny  and Dawg shrug, like, "Whatever," and Charles
makes a coughing sound, sort of  like he saying, "Assholes." Sweet kid. Sonny
uses his cellphone to take a  'selfie' of his haircut, saying, "I'm sending
this to Giggles. See what that boy  thinks about my haircut." Dawg says, "How
'bout it, Dylan, can we get haircuts  tonight?" I look at Sonny, who's busy
texting his fuck buddy. Oh well, resigned  there won't be any sub/dom sex
tonight, I mumble, "Yeah, sure guys, come on  downstairs. What's in the bag?"
Dawg says, "Eight cans of beer. My dad has a  refrigerator in the garage
full of beer. He won't notice I stole some." I go,  "Hey, cool! What kind is
it?" He looks in the bag, "Um, it's Heineken." Manny  says, "Premium beer,
dude. I like those green cans too." I roll my eyes. Kids!  Who cares about the
color of the cans. Dawg nudges Charles, mumbling, "No beer  for you, bro,
okay?" Charles coughs, "Prick." Sonny snickers at that as we all  go
downstairs with Sonny bringing up the rear, saying, "You guys are gonna love  getting
Dylan's shampoo. I almost dozed off during it." Nothing from Charles  that
I could hear, but I'm glad I can't read his mind.


In the basement Dawg says, "Um, Dylan, can you give Charles his haircut
first? There's a show he wants to see on TV in a half hour." Charles goes,
"Eff  that, I'm not getting a haircut from him." Dawg says, "He's better'n
those women  barbers at Supercuts, Charles. Way better!" I say, "Come on,
Charles, I'll  shampoo your hair first." He yells, "Fag!" I shrug, giving Dawg an
exaggerated  'look', and he quietly says, "Go ahead, Charles. It won't take
long and you'll  be watching TV in a few minutes." Charles mutters one of
his favorite responses  to anything, "Eff that." Manny's helpfully adds, "You
get to keep the twenty  bucks your mom gave you for a haircut too." Charles'
eyes light up, "Really,  Dawg?" Dawg's nodding his head as I go, "Yeah,
dude, I don't charge for  haircuts." He takes a deep breath, "Okay, but I'm no
baby so you don't need to  shampoo my hair." I put my hand on his shoulder,
saying, "Yeah, I do, it makes  for easier haircutting. Go on in the little
bathroom there." A coughed, "Dork,"  from Charles, but he goes into the half
bath with me following as I hear behind  me the familiar sound of beer can
tabs being snapped opened. I go back and grab  a can of beer for myself and
snap the tab, then guzzle some beer. Charles is  just standing in the half
bath when I walk in, so I tell him, "Have a seat,  dude." He looks at me,
asking, "You gay? Dawg says you're gay." I go, "Dawg's  right, why?" He says,
"Stay away from my dick and my ass, got it!" I give him a  'look', then ask,
"What charm school did you go to, Charles?" He frowns, "What?"  I'm like,
"Sit the fuck down. I couldn't care less about your dick or your ass."  He
sits, asking, "Why not? Don't you think I'm sexy enough?" I go, "You're not  old
enough to be sexy, so no, you're not sexy to me, no offense intended." He
coughs, "Jerk-off," and I say, "You ought to do something about that cough,
Charles. You know, see a doctor or something." Yeah, a child  psychiatrist.


He asks, "Can I have a swallow of your beer?" I pass him the can and he
rubs the place I drank from with his grubby hand, then guzzles some beer
making  a face. Heineken is a tad bitter. I ask, "Where's that hand of yours
been? The  one you wiped the top of the can with." Smirking, he makes the
jerk-off motion  of moving his loose fist up and down. It almost makes me laugh.
This kid is too  much. Taking the can back I drink from it without wiping his
sloppy saliva off,  as he mutters, "Icky." I go, "Take your shirt off so it
doesn't get wet when I'm  shampooing your hair." He makes a face and looks
away, so I've had enough of  this shit, telling him, "Okay, go watch your TV
show, fuck the haircut." He  looks at me frowning and pouting at the same
time, then takes his shirt off over  his head without unbuttoning it. Charles
has a lot of light-brown very straight  hair on his head. It's parted in
the middle and hanging down well over his ears.  He's also got a skinny pink
body with his ribs showing and a chest that's almost  concave. He's got
slumped, rounded shoulders and all around bad posture. Sexy?  Nope! Charles' body
is the opposite of his pumped brother's who's been weight  lifting for
three years. Tilting the chair back against the sink, I wet the  kid's hair and
rub in the shampoo. Massaging the shampoo into his hair while  rubbing his
scalp with my fingers tips, he mutters, "Having fun? Gettin' your  rocks
off?" He looks like Dawg which is to say he has average looks, nothing  special
but nothing horrible either. He's obviously not very likable where  Dawg's
impossible not to like. I ask him, "Do you have any friends, Charles?" He
says, "Sort of, well one, why?" I go, "Just wondered. Your brother's such a
likable kid and I wondered why you're not, that's all." He's like, "Fuck you,
 I'm likable. My brother's the rents' favorite, that's the situation I'm
in.  Shit, I'm the black sheep in the family because I don't get my nose
pierced and  tattoos out my giggie like Dawg. My parents are aging hippies from
the  seventies, and I think it's stupid. This shampoo is stupid  too."


Huh, I think aging hippies are stupid too, but I don't say that. Running
my fingers through his long soapy hair, smoothing the hairs from front to
back,  I say, "Is that the only reason you're so confrontational? You're
parents are  ex-hippies." He shrugs his slumped shoulders, mumbling, "I'm not
confrontational. Everybody else is though." Sulking again, his eyebrows
furrowed  like it's Charles against the world. I kind of feel sorry for him. "Your
brother  seems to like you, Charles. Are you saying you don't get along with
your  parents?" He says, "Dawg's great, but my parents say I have an
attitude, that I  think I know everything, that I'm always angry, and it's like
nothing I do is  right." Rinsing his hair now, I say, "You're into puberty,
Charles, and there's  lots of things happening in your body. Things like your
voice changing, and your  body's probably sprouting hair here and there, and
you might be wondering if  you're normal. Well there is no specific normal,
everyone of us is a little  different. Try being nice for a change and see
how that works out for ya." He  says sarcastically, "Oh, that's really deep
and insightful. Maybe you're the one  who thinks he knows it all." I mumble,
"See, you're being confrontational right  there." He  mutters, "You do it
too, you blame everything on me." I almost  laugh. "Um, did you even consider
maybe you're not the only kid in the parade  that's marching in step?" He
asks, "What's that suppose to mean?" I'm drying his  hair with a towel,
saying, "Just that sometimes it's you who are wrong, you're  the one out of step
and not everybody else like you say. Try looking at things  through the
other person's perspective." He twists around to look at me, "Did  you get a
boner shampooing my hair?" Maybe I don't feel bad for him after all. I  go,
"Don't flatter yourself, Charles."


The hairdryer's too loud for conversation, which is just as well since we
aren't communicating anyway. When his hair is dry I comb it all forward and
it  reaches below his nose. "What kind of a haircut do you want?" He uses
his  fingers to part the hair, exposing his eyes, and says, "I don't know. You
think  you know it all so what haircut do you think I should get?" I shrug,
"How long  have you had this hair style?" He goes, "I've always had long
hair. Dawg used to  have a ponytail." I say, "I know that, it was me who gave
him a flattop."  Charles goes, "Why'd you do that?" "Because he asked me to.
Why else?" He's  like, "What haircut are you going to give him this time?"
I chuckle, "Whichever  one he tells me he wants. I'm just the humble
barber." He wants to know, "Do you  like cutting guy's hair?" I say, "Yeah, I think
it's fun. Let's ask your brother  how he wants his hair cut, okay" An
elaborate shrug from Charles. I pat his  shoulder, "Lets go, stud, and you can
ask him." He picks up his shirt, but  doesn't put it on,  and we join the guys
who are watching TV and drinking  beer laughing about something. I ask,
"What so funny, guys?" Manny says, "Oh  nothing, Sonny's a blatherskite that's
all. Plus he's often wrong about what he  says although he's never in
doubt." The rest of us exchange eye rolls because  we're used to Manny dropping
ridiculous words on us every now and  then.


Charles asks, "What kinda haircut you getting, Dawg?"  Dawg says, "I'm
leaning towards the blatherskite's haircut, and Manny goes,  "It's 'blather
'skite', not 'skate'." More eyes roll as  Charles goes, "Really, bro, like the
redhead's haircut?" Dawg shrugs, and  quietly says,"Yeah, that's right up my
alley, little brother. It's outlandish  and really different, like me." Dawg
always speaks softly although his  appearance might lead you to think he's
a member of a outlaw motorcycle gang.  Charles is shaking his head,
muttering, "I can't go there," then he looks at me,  "You're the know it all barber,
what do you think?" I think I'd like to shoot  this kid. I mumble, "Sit on
the fuckin' stool, Charles" he frowns at me, "Ya  don't have to be mean
about it." He's right, I don't. So I smile at him giving  his shoulders a hug,
saying, "I'm sorry, Charles." Amazingly he leans into me  when I expected the
opposite... a stiff body with him offended by a shoulder hug  from a gay
guy. I rub his hair, saying, "I've got an idea for a haircut that  would be
just right for you." Sitting on the stool, he asks,"What is it?" I  describe
the hair style that's fairly short, the hair on top combed forward and  the
bangs combed up in front, "Or you could spike the hairs on top." The other
three guys are paying no attention to us as they argue and laugh about
nothing  important. I describe a number of haircut possibilities for Charles to
consider.  He seems to be interested in a couple of the choices although he
can't make a  decision. I finally say, "Actually there's no need to change
your hair style at  all, Charles. I can neaten up the ends and you keep the
part in the middle, like  you've always had." He asks, "Why are you being nice
to me? Nobody else  is."


Good question? Maybe I remember being twelve and the changes that were
taking place in me around that time. Chubby too. Jeez, it's around then that he
 wanted to shave his legs so he wouldn't have hair on them, and there were
other  weird things we did too. We had each other though and we're the same
age so we  could discuss what was happening as we grew.  It doesn't look
like Charles  has that special 'other' person to commiserate with. I say, "Gee,
Charles, why  wouldn't I be nice to you?" He shrugs, "I don't know, nobody
else is." I go, "I  know your brother is nice to you," and he says, "Yeah,
him and my friend, but  that's about it." I chuckle, "And now me, right?" He
nods his head, then says,  "Yeah, and I want you to decide my haircut. I
can't decide." I'm combing through  his very dense hair, noticing he's got the
good hairline across his forehead  like Dawg, so any haircut will look good
on him. I ask, "Okay, lets narrow down  the possibilities. First, do you
want a change?" He nods his head, "Uh huh," and  I ask, "Do you want to try
short hair?" He mumbles, "I think so, but I'm afraid  it'll look funny." I say,
"Nah, you're a nice looking kid with great hair so it  won't look funny."
He says, "My brother had short hair all last summer for the  first time in
his life and I was kinda wishing I did too, but barbers are  pricks. Um, I
don't mean you though. I guess I want a really short haircut to  start a new
me." That's a fucking good idea right there. Especially the start a  new 'me'
part. I say, "Really short is a radical change for you, Charles.  Wouldn't
it be better to do it in stages?" He asks, "Are you saying something  like a
buzz cut for instance wouldn't look okay on me?" I say, "No, of course it
would look good on you assuming you like buzz cuts. If you don't like 'em it
won't look good to you." He says, "Danny has a buzz cut." I go, "Who's
Danny?"  Charles looks at me, "He's the friend I told you about." He did? I go,
"Buzz cut  it is then. Will you're parents be okay with it?" He says, "Now
they probably  will because Dawg was the first one in our family with a short
haircut and  they're used to it by now, but Dawg took some shit from them
at first. My old  man has that dumb looking layered over the ears haircut
he's had since the  seventies and he's fifty four years old with a bald spot on
top. Looks stupid."  Yeah, it does sound pretty stupid, but I don't say
that.

Giving the back of his skinny neck a squeeze, I say, "Okay then, a buzz
cut it is," and he's like, "Don'cha got a cape to put around me?" I shake my
head, "It's being cleaned. Just don't put your shirt back on and it'll be
fine."  Which makes me remember when Sonny took his shirt off and his sexy
boyish scent  drifted off him. None of that from Charles so maybe he hasn't
developed a scent  yet being he's just starting puberty and all. Dawg calls
over, "Wha'cha getting,  Charles?" He says, "Buzz cut. Whaddaya think about
that?" Dawg shrugs, "Yeah,  you're joining the twenty-first century at last,
bro. Cool!" Charles almost  grins.  As I'm changing the clipper guard to the
half inch one, I say, "You  should grin more, Charles. That's a cool look for
you, and maybe even a smile  once in awhile. Is that something you've ever
tried doing?" He coughs into his  fist, "Fuckwad," grinning like mad. The
first real grin I've seen from him. Him  grinning is the cuteness I knew was
in him somewhere. Awesome grin with dimples  and everything. I tousle his
hair, saying, "I knew you could do it," and he  grins again, saying, "Maybe I
just needed a gay barber to make me grin," and  he's grinning again, as I
mutter, "Apparently." Two haircuts in a row with tons  of hair being mowed from
their heads. Works for me! Lots of hair falling and  it's a blast. In
Charles' case there's ten inch lengths of light brown hair  cascading from the
clipper blades. It's enough to get my dick's  attention.


After I finish his haircut I give him the mirror and as his hand feels  all
over his head, he's grinning again, saying, "Oh man, is Danny ever gonna
shit in his  pants when he sees me tomorrow! Whoa!" His first thought is about
his friend's  reaction. Friends are more precious than gold. I'm brushing
hairs off his  shoulders, asking, "This buzz cut doesn't freak you out,
Charles? It's a  monstrous change from your long hair." He says, "Nah, I like it.
I'd never have  the balls to do this with a regular barber, but you let me
talk myself into it.  I've been thinking about getting a buzz cut from the
first time I saw my  brother's short haircut. It was a buzz too." Huh, maybe
he does idolize Dawg.  Dawg seems to like Charles just fine. First
impressions aren't always accurate.  I pat Charles on the shoulder, then rub his head
all over with both hands  getting little snippets of cut hairs off his
head. He gets up brushing off his  lap, mumbling, "Thanks, um, Dylan." The first
time he's used my name. He looks  much better with the buzz cut. Charles
goes over to the TV and the guys rub his  head with Charles reluctantly
smiling. We drink beers as I shampoo and give haircuts to Dawg and  then Manny
with Manny telling me, "Sonny's always been a good likable kid  although he's
prone to tautology, beating the same point to death until I could  scream.
It's like, I got it already, Sonny." I go, "Yeah, huh." Whatever the  fuck...


It's nine o'clock by the time  I'm done with the haircuts. It's been fun
although sub/dom sex with Sonny would  have been more fun. The guys want to
see if any of the other guys are at  Treadwells, so what the hell I guess I'll
go too. We all help with the clean-up  and then up the stairs to go.
Outside now and thankfully it's not raining, so  Sonny says, "Well okay, we won't
get wet on my bike." Charles pulls on my  sweatshirt, saying, "Ride with us,
Dylan." Sonny say, "Sorry little, dude, he's  my boyfriend and he rides
with me." Charles goes, "Holy fuck, you're gay too?  Really?" Sonny goes, "Yep,
how 'bout you?" Charles is shaking his head, "No way  I'm a fag," and I
give him a 'look'. He mutters, "Um, I mean 'gay'." I rub his  head, "See you
over there Charles. I wanna buy you a sundae because your's is  the best
haircut of the night. My favorite." He almost grins, sucking on his  lips, then
he mutters, "Okay, see you there, Dylan," and he gets in Dawg's car.  Sonny
gives me his 'look' for a second or two, then says, "What the fuck  ya
talking about. Mine is the best haircut tonight." I'm putting the helmet on,
"Yeah, it was, but I wanted to make Charles feel good about himself." Sonny
goes, "Okay Mister Rogers, get on behind me and hold me tight around my waist.
We'll see what the guys at Treadwell think of my 'do' and then I'm taking
you to  my place to show you who your man is." I get on the motorbike
chuckling, "I  already know who that is and it ain't you." I'm snug up against him,
my crotch  against his ass as he mutters, "Your man tonight, I mean." He
starts the  motorbike and revs the engine, saying, "I hope Ray's at Treadwells
'cause he'll  be jealous of me because you're my boyfriend now," and here
we go, the front  wheels off the ground with another wheelie leaving rubber
as we roar  away.


It's too chilly for a  motorbike ride but Sonny's body blocks most of the
wind. He's gotta be freezing  although I'm tight against his slender taut
body so we're sharing body heat. It  looks like Sonny and me are going to have
the sub/dom sexual experience after  all. I've got to make damn sure though
that Sonny's parents will not get home  from wherever they're at while Sonny
and I are fucking. Somehow I don't think  Sonny will think of that concern
on his own. If he can't convince me we  positively won't be surprised by one
of his family popping in early, I'm not  doing it. We arrive at
Treadwell's, which is a ice cream parlor with sports  facilities like a driving range,
baseball cages with automatic pitching, a  putting green, and a big
miniature golf complex. All those activities are warm  weather ones so it's
primarily the ice cream that attracts people during cold  weather. They serve fast
food restaurant-type food too. It's a place to hang out  basically. When we
pull up to the restaurant there are guys and girls in  clusters outside with
a number of them smoking. Inside there are groups of young  people too, in
addition to older people who just want the ice cream. The rest of  the scene
the older folks tolerate because the home made ice cream is that good.
Generic rock music plays both inside and out. There's undoubtedly some underage
drinking going on outside as well.


Sonny locks his bike and our  hamlets, then he uses a small pocket comb to
comb his hair over to the side,  asking, "How's your boyfriend look, Dylan."
I say, "The last time I saw him he  looked hot. Why do you ask?" He's like,
"Not Dickers, I'm your boyfriend  tonight," and I go, "No you're not,
Sonny. We're friends and occasional  fuck-buddies... not boyfriends." He mumbles,
"Come on, I see Ray's car, lets go  inside." Then Dawg drives in and parks.
I say, "Lets wait for them," and Sonny's  muttering, "Okay, but you are so
my boyfriend tonight whether you think so or  not." He takes my hand, but I
pull it away, chuckling to myself. Sonny combs his  hair again, whining,
"All of a sudden I'm nervous no one will like my new 'do'."  Charles comes
right up to me, saying, "I'm thinking hot fudge sundae with  M&Ms, Dylan, a
large one." I go, "You got it, dude, 'cause you're cool." He  coughs, "Liar,"
and I get him in a headlock, saying, "I am not lying, you're  looking cool,
dude," then I give his buzz cut a nookie. He doesn't try getting  out of the
headlock like Sonny did. Charles has his arm loosely around my waist  leaning
into me. Oh, I gotta watch myself with this young kid, who seems to have
taken a liking to me. I let go of him, saying, "Okay, lets get that sundae."
Dawg, Manny, and Sonny are ragging on each other's haircuts, but I know
they  like them. I can tell because these guys are like an open book most of
the time.  I think they're as likable a group as any I know. There's a
innocence about them  and maybe that's how I was two years ago too, although that's
hard to  believe.


The trio follow Charles and  me inside and then they go right over to say
'hi' to Ray and the guys with him.  Ray's holding court like the old days
with Bean, Jameson, and a third stocky kid  I don't know. The four of them are
sitting around a big table. Devon isn't here  tonight and I'm kind of glad
he's not, what with Sonny and me having sex and  all. Sonny calls over to me,
"Dylan, get over here," and I laughingly give him  the finger. Charles
chuckles. Sonny would love to see me jumping when he says  'jump' like Ray had
me doing for a few weeks last summer. I get embarrassed just  thinking about
that now.  We're in line waiting to order as  Charles  asks, "What's it like
being gay?" I shrug, "It's fine except it's kinda hard  sometimes finding a
date because only one out of ten guys is supposedly gay.  That's the
statistic I believe is accepted by most people who deal with that  sort of thing."
He asks, "Are you the redheaded kid's boyfriend?" I laugh, "Um,  no, I'm
not, but he likes to pretend I am." Charles nods his head, mumbling, "I  can
see why you're popular. Bet it's nice being popular." I say, "I'm not
popular, no more than most guys." He says, "Yeah, you are. I see how the guys  are
with you and I hear what they say. Everybody likes you." I go, "No they
don't Charles. Some people don't like me even a little bit." He makes a face
and  says something under his breath I can't make out, and I don't even want
to know  what it is. I can't help but wonder if he's thinking he might be
gay and that's  a reason he's such a contrarian and seems to have a problem
getting along with  people.


The sundae Charles orders  cost me seven dollars. Hmmm, my cone is two
bucks. We're walking over to the  group where they're all talking about Sonny's
haircut, mostly ragging on it, but  in good fun. Sonny sees me coming
towards them, and says, "Ah, here comes my  boyfriend now." Oh fuck! Ray looks at
me shaking his head, then says, "Get over  here, Dylan, and giver your 'ex'
a kiss." I do an awkward one arm hug with him  holding my cone away from us
and Ray gets in a quick kiss on my lips. Then Bean  gives me a big hug
whispering in my ear, "Do you wanna blow me tonight?" I roll  my eyes, then greet
Jamison as Ray's saying, "Dylan, meet my new boyfriend, Gary  Eisenhower."
Gary face turns dark red as we bump fist. He's stocky and about  Ray's
height with unruly straw-color hair and a clean-shaven nondescript  face.
Nebraska farm boy type. I go, "Nice to meet you, Gary," and he says,  "Same here,"
as he stares at me, glancing at Ray, than back staring at me. I  don't know
what he's thinking. Tall, skinny, Bean, says, "Oh, and can I get a  haircut
tomorrow, Dylan?" I go, "Well yes you can, Theodore Tesdavery the  third."
He grins because nobody, not even his teacher, call him that. It's his  name
though. He asks, "How'd you remember that?" and then he adds, "That other
thing, Dylan, we'll save it for tomorrow, okay?" Sonny asks, "What other
thing?"  and Bean says, "Never you mind."


We're at a table for eight  with everyone sitting leaving only one empty
chair. Charles and I are standing,  not wanting to leave the other standing
alone. Ray says, "Sit the fuck down,  Dylan," still thinking he's the boss.
Old habits are hard to break. His  bossiness is one of the things that
appealed to me last summer. I put my arm  around Charles' shoulders, saying, "Come
on, dude, we'll share this seat." He  looks down nodding his head getting
very tight against my side. My new little  shadow. There's empty ice cream
containers and hot dog wrappers, plus soda cups  all over the table. Preppy
Jameson Doyle adjust his eyeglasses, asking, "Me too,  Dylan?" meaning get a
haircut tomorrow, and I go, "Sure, Jameson." Ray says,  "Those guys will need
to come after me because I'll be over at nine for my  haircut, Dylan. Me and
my boyfriend, Gary, have someplace to go afterward."  Still bossy, but at
least he didn't include straw-hair in the haircut schedule.  Then Gary nudges
Ray, "Um, ah Ray," and nods his head at me. Ray goes, "Oh yeah.  No
problem, Gary. Yeah, Dylan, Gary needs a haircut too so maybe we should make  it
eight-thirty in the morning. I want you to give him a tight crew cut. You
know the way I like 'em cut." Shades of Willie Worthington right there. Gary's
frowning running his fingers through the straw. Guess the tight crew cut is
new  news to him. Ha! Free haircuts for every-fucking-body, I guess. I go,
"I  probably won't be up that early, Ray, so text me first." Dawg says, "I'd
like  everyone to meet my brother, Charles," and there are few smart ass
remarks that  follow, like, "Ooh you're baby sitting, Dawg," from Bean and
"Who's baby sitting  who?" from Jameson as Charles coughs, "Douches bags."
After his cough, Charles  and I glance at each other, he looks down with a
little grin on his lips and  somehow gets tighter against me.


Ray says, "Let's get a touch  football game going for Sunday. Who can
play?" and they talk about a touch  football game with Ray still apparently in
charge of organizing things like  that. He instructs Bean and Dawg to call
some guys about the game, then tells  Sonny to call his brother. To me, he
says, "Dylan, see if you can get Dickers to  play and your brother too." I give
him a blank look, not at all sure I'm even  gonna play myself, never mind
Robby or Chubby. I'll see what Robby has in mind,  plus we'll be going back to
college sometime Sunday, and Chubby's not even home.  None of this I bother
to tell Ray. Why should I? What I ever saw in him baffles  the hell out of
me. I was blinded by the dominant side of Ray, and his  confidence was off
the charts too. Of course there are those who felt Ray was  obnoxious, but it
worked for me for a short time somehow. I gotta be honest too,  that sexy
BO scent of his was like a aphrodisiac to me. Everyone of the posse  boys
mentioned Ray's peculiar BO, and it shouldn't even be called BO because it  was
different, so much so that none of the boys were offended by it. It was Ray
 being Ray, I guess. When I think how I used to kiss his ass for that month
or so  though, it's like unbelievable. I'll blame it on Ryan moving and me
trying to  replace the hot sub/dom sex he and I used to have. Funny how that
fizzled out  this year. It's gotta be more of that unconscious mind shit
that is so  influential in what I like to do. Guys are talking over each other
about who  should be quarterback as Charles nudges me. I look at him and
he's holding a  spoonful of his sundae up, "You want some, Dylan? It's really
good." I say,  "Sure and he feeds me the heaping spoonful. I suck most of it
off and it is damn  good. When I swallow, I say, grinning at him, "My
cooties are on your spoon now,  Charles." He shrugs, "I don't care," and he sucks
off the sundae I left on the  spoon. They licks the spoon smirking at me.


It's not long before everyone  moves outside so those of us who want a
cigarette can have one, plus the busboy  cleaning the table said he was told by
his boss that if we're done our food we  need to move away from the table so
others can use it. Ray's like, "Of all the  fucking nerve. We're regulars
here." The kid shrugs, muttering, "I could give a  shit if you sleep here.
Just telling you what the man said." I go, "Come on,  guys, I want a smoke."
That's why we're outside in the cold now. Sonny squirms  between me and my
new shadow, Charles, saying to Charles, "Excuse me, little  man, I gotta talk
to my boyfriend." Charles says, "He's not your boyfriend," and  Ray asks,
"Hey, Dawg's brother, can you play football?" Charles is pissed-off  because
Sonny pushed him away, so he coughs, "Eff you," to Ray. Ray looks up
frowning at that, then takes two steps over to grab a fistful of Charles' shirt,
"What'd you say?" I push at Ray's arm as Charles mumbles, "You heard me," and
 Dawg quietly says, "Don't touch him, Ray. Get your hands off my brother's
shirt." The rest of us exchange smirks. Ray points at Dawg, still with a
hold of  Charles' sweatshirt, "Dawg, don't butt in. He dissed me." Still
speaking  quietly, Dawg says, "I don't care if he did or not. Get your fucking
hand off my  brother or I'll knock you on your ass." Ray lets go and to save
face he says,  "That will be the day that you can knock me on my ass, Dawg!"
Dawg shrugs,  "We're not fourteen anymore, Ray. Anytime you want to try me,
that's fine with  me." Ray holding his open palms out, saying, "When did any
of us fight with each  other? Come on, Dawg, lighten up." Dawg goes, "Sure,
no problem, just keep your  hands off Charles, that's all."


Ray got put in his place  which is good, but it put a damper on things so
Sonny whispers to me, "Let's go,  Dylan," which I'm all for, so we start
doing the posse boys goodbye because it's  less awkward doing that then not.
We'll probably being doing it when we're  sixty. I get another kiss from Ray,
who whispers, "Call me anytime and we can  relive old times. Don't tell Gary
though."I say, "Don't hold your breath, Ray."  Then Charles is looking at me
and I get the feeling he wants to do the posse boy  goodbye to, so I grin,
saying, "See ya around, Charles," and we do the one arm  hug with him a
little too aggressive with the hugging part. Done his hug and  blushing, he
says, "See ya. Oh, um, Dylan, can I come over when I need another  haircut?" I
say, "Abso-fuckin'-lutely, Charles, you'd hurt my feelings if you  didn't."
He nods his head muttering, "Thanks." Sonny's pulling on my arm so I  walk
with him to his motorbike where he says, "Ray backed down from Dawg, did ya
see that? I loved it." I go, "Uh huh, fighting is stupid." Sonny says,
"Sometime  ya gotta fight, dude." I mutter, "Tell me about it," then ask, "How can
you be  sure nobody's gonna come home early at your house?" He says, "It's
only  ten-thirty. We'll be at my place in ten minutes and Devon's with his
girlfriend  at a party so he won't get home before one o'clock this morning,
at the  earliest. Especially since my parents are at Foxwoods with another
couple  spending the night there. They won't be home tonight at all.
Satisfied?" Now  that's it's just him and me again he's getting that little edge
talking  confidently. As he's talking he's got my left ear between his thumb
and  forefinger smirking and grinning his irresistible grin as he bends my ear
back  and forth. He continues his little lecture, "So you're going to be my
submissive  boy for a couple of hours, aren't you, boy?"


It's amazing even to me after  all these years that my dick starts getting
hard listening to Sonny act  dominant. I have nothing to do with it, my
dick's got a mind of it's own. It  just happens and I like the feeling. I've
been missing it. I wet my lips and nod  my head, mumbling, "Okay, Sonny." He
pats my cheek, then says, "Yeah, I know  it's okay, and when it's you and me
out with the guys you are my boyfriend."  He's serious now and my cock is
hard as I nod my head even as I know I'll reject  that concept the next time it
comes up. For now I want to play this sex game and  Sonny does it really
well. He hands me the keys, saying, "Unlock the chain and  hand me my helmet."
Oh fuck! That's perfect. I almost grin, but that would ruin  it so I don't,
although he does grin nodding his head now that he sees I'm going  to play
along with him. So strange, and I think it is myself, yet it feels so  good
to have a boner induced by just a few words and actions by Sonny. I can't
describe it of course, but I sure feel the tug of submissiveness. The feeling
 lures me into it's grasp and gets stronger and stronger as we continue
playing.  I get the chain off and hand him his helmet. As he's putting it on he
says, "Put  your's on too and then put the chain where it belongs. Hand me
the keys first."  I do and he swats my ass, "Now put the chain away." I grin
as I'm doing that,  but my back is turned so he doesn't see it. I'm sucking
on my lips groping  myself as Sonny cooly lifts his left leg over the
motorbike and gets on, his  arms out gripping the handlebars. He looks back, "Get
on behind me, tight up  against me so I can feel your boner as we ride." I
get on like he said and he  goes, "Tighter around my waist. Okay, good," and
we're off with the squeal of  the back tire. This is going to be fun...


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



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I continue to provide this little advertisement in hope that  some of you
readers will purchase the books that I have had  published. They are
available on Amazon. Actually one book and one short  story. The short story is
titled "Concealed Agony - Gay Romance" (and  I didn't pick that title.) Read the
short story first. And the book is  named  "Oliver's Wildwood Vacation"
They are both about  'Oliver'.  You can easily find them by searching for
'Donny Mumford' at the  Amazon web site.

And I would appreciate it if you would  provide a comment at the site for
the stories as  well.

Thanks.

Donny Mumford


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