Date: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 11:41:40 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S  SOPHOMORE YEAR Chapter  32

DYLAN'S  SOPHOMORE  YEAR

Chapter   32

by  Donny Mumford


A text from, Ryan, eh? I'm on my balcony at  the apartment smoking a
cigarette, drinking my second beer of the day, and  minding my own business. Then
this text appears out of thin air through the  magic of the Internet. I have
no idea how that works, only that it did. I mean I  know Ryan typed it and
sent it, but what magical thing took place after that to  make what he typed
appear on my iPhone? And, what words might he have texted to  me? Maybe he
wants to beg my forgiveness for him doing 'it' with that fuckwad  Marty
while ignoring me sexually for two months. Yeah, maybe he's begging me to  take
him back and give him another chance. That'd be sweet, but I don't believe
in miracles or pipe dreams, so it's probably not that. And whatever the
words in  his text, why should I feel the need to respond immediately to them?
That might  seem to Ryan like I've been waiting with bated breath for a crumb
from him, who  I've got major hot's for. Yeah, but Ryan doesn't know I have
major 'hot's' for  him. He's totally unaware I've got all this sexual heat
for him and his body.  Basically I feel I'm lusting after him like last
spring and the early part of  the summer when he made me salute him every time I
saw him. I don't know how  these things happen, I really don't, but like it
was then is the way it is now,  very intense sexual heat that makes it hard
to breathe when I'm near him  sometimes. The difference is, now it's a
secret sexual heat and he's unaware of  it. That's very strange, isn't it?

Everyone who knew about Ryan and me  back then believes it's over between
us now. I mean as far as sexual heat for  each other goes, although we're
still loving friends. Hope I'm  not embellishing the friendship description,
that's what he told me. He  only loves me as a friend now. I'd be a fool to
turn down love of any kind of  course. That's the situation between Ryan and
me and it's what Ryan and Robby  believe, and it's what I say as well, but it
not true. Not in my case anyway.  I'm very cognizant of my feelings for
Ryan. Mysteriously I've come to  feel this way about him again. I'm aware it's
an obsession plain and  simple. So I have an obsession about  him... big
deal. An obsession to be  loved sexually by him, and while it's a mystery why
I've come to think of Ryan  as the sexiest person on earth, it is what it is.
 And ha, I know I'm the  only person on earth who would think Ryan the
sexiest person alive, but too bad  for everyone else. Maybe I'll text Ryan and
tell him about my Theo/Bean boy, and  Sonny too. You know, to make him
jealous. Fat chance he'd be jealous though. Not  of a couple of eighteen year old
boys, especially knowing how un-special Theo  probably would seem to Ryan,
and most everyone else for that matter. Theo's  become special to me though,
and Sonny's actually cuter than Ryan when you get  right down to it. At
least most casual observers would probably say so, although  no one's cuter than
him in my eyes.  Objectively I'm aware there are many  guys cuter than
Ryan, better looking overall than him, but I'm not objective  when it comes to
him. Funny that I didn't think he was cute at all when Robby  was bopping
Ryan before I knew him. When I got to know him however, I became  obsessed with
him back then like I'm obsessed with him again. It's a wildly  unlikely and
inexplicable turn of events, but true nonetheless. The old adage,  'Beauty
is in the eye of the beholder' is so very accurate and extends to one's
opinion about sexiness and other things as well. Often we perceive things
whichever way we choose. For example, I didn't notice Ryan's scent at first. The
 first time he fucked me his personal scent wasn't even noticeable,
completely  undetectable.  Later though, the way he smells, his personal scent, is
enough to drive me mad, like a dog in heat. That's the way I want to
perceive it  now. So what is it he texting me about? It's not that we don't text
each other.  We do it all the time, but as friends so why do I feel this text
might be  different. Projection on my part probably. Fantasy land stuff.

There's  one sure way to find out if this is that special text. I slide my
finger to  unlock my iPhone and read his text: 'Did ya have a nice
Thanksgiving, Dylan? I  ate Thanksgiving dinner in the dining hall with two guys from
the west coast.  You're probably still back in Framingham having a good
time with family and old  friends. Hope so anyway. I'm looking forward to
seeing you Monday in class!  Ryan.'. That's it? That's fucking it? No, 'love
Ryan', at the end, or 'I miss  you madly, Dylan!' Nothing like that, huh? Gee,
I'm a little disappointed. I  built up expectations for a more dramatic text.
Something special or at least  surprising, but then, ha ha, I'm such a
loser. Smiling to myself, I call Ryan on  my cell phone, and say, "Whassup?" He
says, "Hey, Dylan, thanks for remembering  me." I'm like, "How can I forget
you, Ryan, I see you almost everyday."  I'm  thinking of adding, 'I wish I
saw you every night in bed too,' but of  course I don't. He goes, "I'm going
batty here, there's hardly anyone on campus.  Well, at least until they
started drifting in today. The dining hall finally had  some people in it at
lunch." I'm like, "Oh yeah, where's your roommate?" wanting  to add, 'the
asshole fuckwad,' but I don't. He goes, "Ah, Marty, yeah, where is  he?
Unfortunately I know where he is. He's not here. He's home, which is way the  fuck up
in New Hampshire someplace. That's where he lives, probably screwing  some
guy from his neighborhood right now."

Hmmm, was that anger in his  voice? Could it be my Ryan is pissed-off at
fuckwad Marty? Perhaps they had a  name-calling fight, and you can't take back
words... heh heh. Hopefully there  was a hateful exchange of insults that
will be hard to forget. I ask, "Huh.  When's he coming back?" Ryan says,
"Either tomorrow night or early Monday  morning. It's like a two and a half hour
drive." I mumble, "That far huh? Hope  he doesn't get into a
life-threatening serious car accident. You know, driving  too fast Monday morning to get
back to you." Ryan ignores that, although he  pauses a few seconds, maybe
thinking to say something rude to me because of my  inexcusably inappropriate
comment, but instead, he goes, "Ha ha, don't jinx him,  Dylan." Oh, Ryan
chose the high road, eh. My minds not functioning properly for  some reason.
Probably because I'm speaking with the very person I'm lusting  after. He adds,
"Yeah, Marty asked me to go with him for the break and have  Thanksgiving
dinner with his family. I might have accepted, but he made the  mistake of
telling me they'll be like twenty-some people for Thanksgiving dinner  and
that sounded way too awkward a situation for shy little ole' me. Plus, he's
not 'out' to anyone in his hometown, except Rex of course. Ya know, so I
didn't  see what good it would be to put myself though five days of awkwardness
with  mostly strangers when the possibility of having a little sexy fun would
be very  limited." I can't think of a single thing I want to say to that
bunch of  bullshit, except, "Huh."

I'm getting a boner just talking to Ryan, hearing his  voice and picturing
in my head his face and hot tight little body with that big  penis of his.
It's making me feel weird so I better end this call, but I don't.  "Um, Ryan,
ah, why don't we get together and hang out or something. Robby's  still
back in Framingham and won't be coming here until tomorrow in the late
afternoon some time." He goes, "You're here? On campus, or in your apartment?" I
go, "Yeah, I'm here. Me and Chubby drove back a little while ago. I'm at the
apartment. Chubby's fucked-up with a wicked hangover. The poor boy's
sleeping it  off in bed." Ryan says, "Wow, you're here, dude, that's so excellent!
Can I  impose on you for a haircut? It's been like six weeks since my last
one, what  with, heh heh, Marty demanding so much of my time." Fuck Marty,
that sick  pervert, but I say, "Well, yeah, sure, Ryan. I'd like that and
it'll give us  something to do." Ryan says, "Dylan, get real, we could think of
plenty of  things to do other than me getting a haircut, but I really need
one so I'd  appreciate if we can do that first." Hmmm, I think I'm kind of
excited by this  unexpected development. I'd love to give him a haircut, and
maybe I can seduce  him while I'm at it. Oh yeah, ya think you could? You
loser... don't get your  hopes up, mister needy! I know one thing for sure
though, and it's I gotta give  myself a good talking to before I see Ryan. I
don't want to make a complete  jackass of myself, groveling for a kiss or a
smile from him.

I've got  myself under control though. Smelling the back of my wrist, I'm
blasé when I  say, "Yeah, whatever dude," and he's like, "Ah, can I impose on
you further and  ask you to bring the barber stuff to my dorm room so I can
smoke a joint or two  while you're working your magic with my ratty hair,
and we won't disturb your  brother." I go, "Ratty hair? Are you out of your
fucking mind, Ryan? You've got  awesome hair! I wish I had your head of
hair." He laughs, "That's not what Rob  told me. He said you claimed at
Thanksgiving dinner the one thing you're most  grateful for is your awesome hair." My
face turns dark red, as he adds, "Ha ha,  you nut, that was hysterical. I
laughed my ass off because it's just so you, ya  know, with the offbeat humor
and all. Wish I was there. I'd probably have spit a  mouthful of turkey
stuffing all over the table. You're too funny, dude!" Huh, I  didn't know Ryan
thought I was funny. And it's not what I said at the table  anyway. I didn't
say it was the one thing I'm most thankful for, I said it was  one of the
things. Anyway I can not believe Robby told Ryan that shit. Trying to  sound
calm, I ask, "When did he, you know text you that bull crap? Did he just
text it to you out of the blue?" He goes, "Yesterday I guess it was. No, it
wasn't out of the blue, we've been texting back and forth during the break.
I'm  comparing my pathetic Thanksgiving with his." Hmmm? "What else did he
say?"  Ryan's chuckling, then saying, "I wish I could have seen the
expressions on  Rob's parents faces when you came out with that  shit about your
hair." I  go, "Forget that. What else did Rob text you?" He goes, "Oh, I don't
know,  Dylan. Nothing really, just one line wisecracks and shit. Do you need a
ride  over here?" I go, "He didn't say anything else about me?" Ryan goes,
"Aaah,  that's cute, you're jealous that Rob was texting me, huh?" I go,
"No! Don't be  an ass!"  Actually I'm jealous Ryan was texting Rob and not me,
but I don't  say that. And how can people be so heartless to me at times?
That's a mystery  I'll never understand. Ryan says, "Just teasing you, Dylan.
Do you need a ride?"  I mumble, "Yeah, I do, thanks." I've got the Jeep, but
I wanna ride in that hot  Mini of Ryan's. He asks, "Is now okay? Should I
come over now?" and I go, "Yeah,  I'll be at the front entrance. It's
building 'G'. See ya in a few minutes." He  goes, "Ha ha, I know the fucking
building, silly! I'm there three or four days a  week. See you in a couple of
minutes." This might work out for me.

We end the call, but I'm both puzzled and pissed-off that  those two were
texting. In the first place it doesn't seem like Robby at all.  You know, to
be texting and joking around. Not something he's been doing lately  anyway.
That's too normal a thing to do for a college student to do. Robby  hasn't
been acting like a college student at all, more like the parent of a  college
student. So that puzzles me right there, and I'm pissed-off because  Robby
didn't mention Ryan was texting him. I'm one of this threesome, hello!
Well, Ryan seems happy that I'm here anyway. It might just be because he needs a
 haircut of course, or because he's happy to see anyone after four days on
a  nearly abandoned campus. In the bathroom I try to spruce up a little for
Ryan,  but fuck, it's useless. That goddamn Sonny! If he hadn't given me
this short  haircut I could have gotten a butchered haircut from Ryan again.
And I wouldn't  even care because he'd be doing it. He'd be combing my hair
and cutting it, and  that can be a bit intimate if both participants are of
the same sexual  persuasion, especially with a history together. Damn! I grab
the toiletry kit  with the barber equipment and then leave a note telling
Chubby I'm at Ryan's.  Then down the front stairs to the lobby where I look
out the window watching  for  him. I'm smelling my wrist again feeling nervous
and weird, like in  the pit of my stomach or maybe it's my balls. Someplace
in that area. In my  groin too and, oh fuck, I need to take a deep breath.
I'm too fidgety so I step  outside and light a cigarette, my fingers all
jittery. Fuck, I'm nervous about  seeing Ryan and being alone with him. I can't
remember the last time it was just  him and me doing something together.
There's always one or more guys with us.  Damn this is stupid of me. I'm
rubbing my face with the palm of my hand telling  myself, 'Do not act like a fool
around Ryan! Don't you dare make an asshole of  yourself in front of him!'
and then I'm back to smelling my wrist again. The  fucking habits I have,
Jesus!

I've smoked the entire cigarette and still no Ryan. Where  the hell is he?
Maybe I'll take up chewing my fingernails to help past the time.  Checking
my watch I see it's been over ten minutes and it's only a two minute  drive.
Now I'm worried something happened to him so I take out my cell phone,
positive some fucked-up thing will prevent us from getting together. My luck's
been for shit lately! And then there's his Mini convertible driving up the
my  building. He's put the top up against November's cold temperature. He's
driving  too slowly of course, which makes me grin. Ryan! I'm shivering now,
but that's  probably because I'm wearing only a sweatshirt. He drives the
Mini right up to  the front steps, but I just stand here staring at his car,
smelling the back of  my wrist. I see him in the car leaning over supporting
himself with a hand on  the passenger seat while looking out the passenger
side window at me standing  here on the top step. Oh fuck, I'm going to
embarrass myself, I fuckin' know it.  I shouldn't be allowed to be alone with
Ryan. Someone else needs to be with us  or I might melt into a begging frenzy
asking him to give me another chance, or  come right out with 'fuck me, fuck
me, Ryan'. Anything he wanted, any  stipulation at all. Ryan gets out of the
car frowning while walking around to  the passenger side, then grins cutely
looking up at me, asking, "Why are you  just standing there, Dylan?" After
doing two fake coughs, I walk slowly down the  steps smelling the back of my
wrist again, mumbling, "I thought you changed your  mind. What took you so
long?" He looks concerned, "Are you alright? You look  pale. Do you feel
okay?" I'm frowning at him now, but I can't think of anything  to say. He goes,
"Seriously, Dylan, I can get a haircut another time, it's okay  really. I
just thought that..."and I shout, "I'm fucking fine! What the fuck you
talking about?" I didn't expect to shout and I shouted in a really mean way too.
Goddammit! I try grinning, "Ha ha, I didn't mean for that to sound like it
did,  sorry. Hi Ryan, heh heh." He nods his head still looking concerned,
muttering,  "Yeah, hi."

I get in the car trying not to look at him for fear of what  I'll do being
this close to him alone in this car's that's too small. It's like  I'm
almost sitting on his lap! If I don't watch myself I could lose control
completely and throw myself into his arms or start hugging him like a nine year  old
hugs his dad back from the war. Best to keep looking straight ahead. Ryan
walks around the car and gets in closing the door. Naturally I smell his
personal Ryan Wilcock sexy scent right away. What am I, a fucking bloodhound
smelling Ryan through his clothes and sweatshirt. Maybe I could smell his
sock  and then track him down wherever he goes like a bloodhound tracking a
runaway  convict. Jesus! Biting my bottom lip I feel my face getting flush.
I've built-up  this desperate sexual attraction for Ryan and it's been going
on for well over  six weeks now. I don't know how the hell it started or why
it started, but it's  a very real thing in my brain no matter if it's
illogical, or makes any sense,  or none at all. I'm so uncomfortable for no reason
at all, I groan loudly,  "Ooooh," and then take a deep breath. I can feel
him staring at me, but I don't  look over. I'm stiffly sitting up straight,
gawking through the windshield at  nothing. Then to break the silence, I go,
"Wow, Ryan, love this car!" saying  that too loudly as well, and then do
another fake cough, then another one,  adding, "Nice Mini, man. Un huh." We're
not moving and the silence is beginning  to roar in my ears, so I slowly
turn my head towards him and sure enough he's  just staring at me with this
quizzical expression on his face. Then, with a  hesitant grin, he asks, "Are
you drunk, Dylan? On some banned substance or  something like that, maybe?" I
start rubbing the palms of my hands all over my  face now, "No, no I'm not
drunk or high, I'm just goofy." He reaches over and  ruffles my hair, saying
"Well, I missed you, goofy. I wanted to text you, but  since Rob was already
texting me I thought you might think I'm an asshole or  something. You
know, if I text you with the same shit I'm texting him. Did he  show you my
ridiculous texts?" My eyebrows go up, "Oh, you were thinking about  texting me?"

Ryan chuckles, shaking his head, "You're goofy alright, but  awesome too."
He checks for cars both ways twice, then slowly drives away,  saying, "Yeah,
of course I thought of texting you. I thought of you a lot, why  wouldn't
I? You're only the best friend I've ever had." Hearing that I almost  have
tears dripping from my eyes except I do my tenth fake cough in the last two
minutes and rub my arm across my eyes. He asks,  "What's with the fake
coughing?" I go, "Fake? Um, whaddaya mean?" He laughs, "Oh shit, you're a funny
guy!" then, "Um, would you have thought I was an asshole if I texted both
you  guys with the same 'nothing' boring stuff?" I'm shaking my head, and then
saying  way, way too sincerely, "No, Ryan, I would never think you're an
asshole, ever!  Not about anything, ever." He glances at me, grinning,
"Breaking my balls, I  see.  Did I just ask a dumb-ass question?" I know I was
overly sincere with  my comment... overly everything with that last response. I
clear my throat and  go, "No, I'm not breaking your balls," as I picture his
genitals that I've seen  a hundred times, but not for the last two months.
He says, "Guess you're feeling  better, huh? Did you feel dizzy or something
back there? You were white as a  ghost, as the saying goes." I'm clasping
my hands together, fingers intertwined  to keep myself from rubbing them all
over his hot little body, as I mumble,  "Nah, I was just so excited seeing
you, and I thought you'd changed your mind  for a second there and then you
were here. I was just about to call you." He  looks over smirking cutely,
"Still busting my chops, huh?" I emphatically say,  "I was not breaking you're
balls, Ryan, I was seriously happy to see you.  Excited too," the last two
words sort of fade out in the end. Ryan says, "Gee,  thanks, Dylan. That
makes me feel good," and he reaches over to pat my leg. My  leg jerks
spastically for a second and he laughs, saying, "Sorry, I didn't mean  to startle you."

We drive onto the campus as I'm saying, "It's curious  Rob would text you
about me saying I'm grateful for having awesome hair." Ryan's  like, "Why's
it curious? It was funny." I go, "Rob didn't think so, and he was
criticizing me for saying it," then I tell him about everyone needing to standup
around the table telling what they're thankful for. Ryan goes, "Oooh, fuck, that
 sounds unbelievably awkward, dude! No, Rob didn't say anything about that.
Why'd  he criticize you?" I go, "Ah, he's always criticizing me about
something." Ryan  says, "Well, there's constructive criticism and destructive
criticism. Which one  was Rob using?" I go, "I don't know. What's the
difference?" Ryan's parking the  Mini on campus, then turns to me, saying, "Marty
gave me an example of the two  types of criticisms. He told me to assume our
campus police were assigned the  mission of kicking old ladies on campus to
death. That's their mission,  hypothetically. When one of the campus police
suggest they get issued jackboots  instead of the pathetic Thom Mcan boots
they wear now. That's a constructive  criticism.Ya know, constructive criticism
of their current footwear and thereby  improving their chances of having
success in their mission of kicking old ladies  to death. Jackboots would be
much more effective in doing that then the Thom  Mcan soft desert boots. A
destructive criticism would be if one of the campus  cops, some asshole, keeps
saying maybe they shouldn't be kicking old ladies to  death in the first
place. See, that's not constructive to their mission, it's  destructive
grousing and not helping their mission at all." We're sitting in the  car with me
gawking at Ryan. He grins at me, "That what Marty said, not me." I  ask, "Is
Marty seriously retarded by any chance?" Ryan laughs, and says, "Oh,  don't
let the PC police hear you say that 'R' word."

We're out of the car  with me feeling more in control of myself now. It's
just that I'd been thinking  about Ryan when I was on the balcony and he
texted me just at that same instant.  So I let myself get worked up and I got
confused between fantasizing about him  and the reality of actually being with
him. Now, with the real world around me,  I'm calmer, back into reality and
I'm fine.  Oh god, that even sounds like  a crazy explanation to me. The
fact is, I usually see Ryan daily and don't lose  my mind like I did back on
the steps at the apartment and then when I first got  in his car. I was still
acting like a complete dork then. Man, that was some  weird-ass behavior
there for a minute or two. Seemed longer then that to me  though. I'm staring
at him as we go up the steps to his room where Ryan unlocks  the door, and
inside there's a faint smell of weed. "Are you smoking a lot of  grass, R
yan?" He shrugs, "Probably too much, but Marty's putting both of us on a  limit
per day. We got it under control. Did you know that some guys get  turned-on
by smoking pot. Turned on, as in being aroused for sex I mean, and for
some guys it's the reverse response. Marty and me are cool with it during sex."
 I don't want to hear about him and that asswipe fuckwad Marty having sex.
I  mutter, "It's none of my business so I'd rather not hear about that, if
you  don't mind" Ryan says, "No, I don't mind. Remember you, me, and Tom in
this room  that time smoking crack laced weed? Holy shit, that was awesome!"
I'm like,  "Yeah, it was alright. That was the last time you and I had sex,
wasn't it?" He  looks at me funny, then asks, "Where's a good place for me
to sit for my  haircut?" I glance around the room, and say, "Lets move this
throw rug and pull  that straight back chair with all the shit on it over
here under the light. Is  there an electrical socket nearby?" Ryan rolls up the
throw rug, nodding his  head towards his desk, and I see an outlet next to
it.

He's clearing  books and whatnot off the chair as I stare at him, again
feeling weak inside. I  love how he looks starting with his out-of-style little
round eyeglasses. His  brown hair is long now. Come to think of it, he only
got that one haircut when  he had the ponytail. That was the first or
second week of the semester. That  means it's closer to eight or nine weeks since
his last haircut, not six weeks.  He's probably having so much fun being
the submissive bottom to that loser,  fuckwad Marty, that nine weeks seemed
like only six 'cause time flies when  you're having fun. Ryan looks up,
saying, "I wanted to bring Marty to your place  for a haircut when I got mine cut,
but I'm taking this opportunity right now  'cause I'm sick of this hair. Is
it okay if he comes over for a haircut  sometime? I told him you're a
genius at cutting hair." I'm thinking, 'fuck  that,' as Ryan glances in a mirror
that's hung on the back of the closet door,  and goes, "Look at my hair!
Jesus!" I walk to him and run my fingers through his  hair, then close my hand
on a fistful off it, and stare at him. He looks at me  as he does half a
grin, then asks, "What?" and I mumble, "Nothing. It's just  that it'd be better
if I shampooed your hair first?" Ryan grins for real, "Ahhh,  that sounds
like sexy fun, Dylan. You shampooing my hair, I mean. I'd love that,  but not
in the communal lavatory down the hall." I'm sucking on my lips fighting
the urge to hug him against me, maybe cracking a rib or too hugging him so
tightly. He reaches up taking hold of my wrist, mumbling, "My hair, you're
pulling my hair, Dylan." I let go immediately, then ruffle through his hair,
and  step back. "Just checking for, um, things..." Ryan chuckles, "You are
acting so  weird today, but I'm choosing to believe you're not high on
something."

Ryan's hair almost completely covers his ears, it hangs in  his eyes when
he bends over, and it's over the collar at the back of his neck.  He sees I'm
looking at him, and mutters, "It's a pain in the ass," meaning his  hair I
assume. Ryan has that pretty pale skin tone that always makes him appear  to
be uber clean even if he's not. As I've said, I can understand some
observers  not thinking Ryan has an especially cute face, and he is small, about
Sonny's  size actually.  They're both very slim and about five feet six or
seven,  but I think they're both kinda special. Ryan's got the chair cleaned
off and he  carries it over near his desk, saying, "Do you think we should go
back to your  place to shampoo my hair? Does it need it? God, I didn't think
of that." I gulp,  shrugging, and he says, "I had a shower yesterday, so...
I don't know, what do  you think, Dylan, you're the expert." I think I
should take all his clothes off  and give him a long detailed bath and shampoo,
that's what I think. I go, "Oh,  would you like that? A shampoo." He grins,
"Sure, who wouldn't, but if it's too  much trouble... Well, you decide,
okay?" Could I trust myself shampooing his  hair? That would be a big fat, NO! I
couldn't trust myself with all that  touching, so I shrug again, "Nah, your
hair's fine the way it is. We'll do the  shampoo next time." He pulls his
shirt off, mumbling, "You da man, whatever you  say." Oh my God, he's got a
great build. I haven't seen his bare torso for  awhile now because we aren't
taking our shirts off to lift like we did six weeks  ago. How's it possible
for him to be that slim and still have a great physique?  Ryan lifted
weights all summer, and then we've been lifting here the last ten  weeks. All that
lifting's paid off for Ryan. Really hot muscle definition in his  arms,
chest, and stomach. No chest hairs though, but I do see the outline of a  small
beard coming in. I need to look away to resist feeling his face and the
sparse beard growth. Swallowing hard again, I mumble, "I didn't know you were
shaving now, um, Ryan." He makes a face, "Yeah, I need to shave, sometimes
as  often as once a week... ha ha. It ain't much." I mutter, "I think it
looks cool  on you." He goes, "Really, and he takes my hand to rub my fingers
over his soft  feeling whiskers that are barely visible. I thought they'd be
stiffer. He says,  "I shaved last, lets see, oh yeah, it was Thursday in
honor of Thanksgiving.  Grew in a lot the last two days, hasn't it?" He's
always been self deprecating.  I nod my head wanting to put the palm of my hand
on his cute face. He drops my  hand, asking, "How 'bout you, Dylan, any
whiskers?" I shake my head and plug in  the clippers, not trusting my voice.

Ryan sits down, asking, "How do you  suggest I get my hair cut?" Normally
that question gets on my nerves and drives  me crazy. Eighteen to twenty year
old guys don't know how they want their hair  cut? Get real! Except I don't
mind Ryan asking. I comb through his hair, "Um,  you'd be hot with any
haircut, Ryan, but you know I kinda like short hair  styles, personally." He
goes, "So I've noticed. Guess you'll never trust me with  your haircut again,
will ya?" I  say, "Yeah, I would if you'd like to do  it." He goes, "How
'bout your next haircut? I'd love to do it!" My throat's  tight, "I go, "Uh huh,
I'd like that okay." He says, "I'll try cutting it real  short the way you
like it, and yeah, I'd really like another shot at it." The  thought of him
trying to give me a really sort haircut scares me and makes my  dick tighten
up at the same time. His head's turns, looking back at me, "I was  getting
good at haircutting there at the end, before I moved, remember? Giving  you
a haircut will remind me of the old days." His scent with his shirt off is
wafting up making me dizzy, for real. I step back and stumble over the
rolled-up  throw rug ending up on my ass. Ryan laughs as he jumps up to help me
up. He  gives me his hand, pulling me up, saying, "It's fucking dangerous in
here,  Dylan. Me and Marty are slobs. Sorry 'bout that." In my head I hear,
'Me and  Marty, me and Marty, me and Marty!' Fuck!  I'm up, standing close
to Ryan,  his hand still holding mine. Stupidly, I ask, "What do you see in
him anyway?"  He lets go of my hand, "Marty? What do I see in Marty? Jeez, I
don't know, we  hit it off is all. He's nice to me and he fuck's good.
Dominant fucking with  some hard spankings too, he uses his hand for most of my
spankings, you know,  the way you and I like it." Swallowing noisily I nod my
head, mumbling, "Uh  huh," thinking that I'd like to hit fuckwad Marty over
the head with a tire  iron, maybe more than once.

Ryan asks, "You sure you're alright? You're  scaring me a little. You can
tell me if something's bothering you." I shake my  head clearing my throat,
"No, what could be wrong?" He shrugs, and sits back  down, "Anyway, how 'bout
my haircut, what do you think?" Standing behind him I  run my fingers
through his hair slowly, then smell my hand. Nice scent of clean  hair. Ryan's
hair. I say, "How about a neat preppy haircut?" He says, "I don't  know what
that is, but I have one hundred percent confidence in you, Dylan. Lets  do
it." I'd like to do it with him alright. 'It' being Ryan fucking me for like
two hours straight. He asks, "Should I put a CD on?" I want to concentrate
on  him, not music, so I say, "No, that's alright," and turn on the clippers.
I cut  his hair slowly and deliberately, wanting to do the perfect haircut
for him. As  the cut hairs drift off the clipper blades and then off the
back of my hand on  their way to his shoulder, lap, or floor my dick gets
harder and harder. I force  myself, using all my enormous amounts of willpower,
not to hug his head or  squeeze his shoulder or rub my hand slowly and
tightly over his bare chest and  nipples. I'm tapering the hairs at the back of
his head from the neck up and  then cutting the hairs on the sides off his
ears, with neither of us is saying  anything. Wanting to feel more of his hair
I switch from clippers to scissors  and comb, combing up batch after batch
of his hair, putting each batch between  my fingers and slicing the long
hairs off with the scissors. The 'Scrunch,  scrunch," sounds I hear when Sonny
cuts my hair I hear now while cutting through  Ryan's hair.

He has a nicely shaped head, and very good hair with a  fairly straight
hairline, both those things helping to make any haircut on him  look good. When
I'm done he has a part down the left side of his head, a  perfectly
straight part with two inch hairs on top, neat half-inch hairs on the  sides around
his ears that taper to longer hairs further up on the side to the  part,
and matching hairs on the side without a part. His bangs are combed over  to
the side and they're also two inches long. It's a generic, clean-cut, preppy
look. Ryan checks himself out in the mirror on the back of the closet door,
and  says, "Cool haircut, but way too goody two-shoes looking for me,
Dylan.  Beautifully cut, but now I'm thinking I'd rather have a no-comb haircut
where I  get up in the morning and my hair's ready for the day. Do you mind?
I'm sick of  trying to comb it everyday. I should have told you right off,
but I wasn't sure  until just now. Sorry." Do I mind? Do I mind cutting his
hair some more? Surely  he jests! I go, "No, I don't mind at all," and
realize shockingly that I've cut  his hair the way Marty wears his. What the fuck
is wrong with me? Why'd I do  that. It was definitely a subconscious move on
my part, but I mumble, "I thought  you might like your hair like Marty's."
He laughs, "No thanks, I'd rather  emulate you than him. You're cool, he's
more a, I don't know, a not cool type."  Then he notices my lap is poking out
a little, and he laughs again, "Oh my God,  you sprung a boner! You always
were the sexiest boy I've ever known." I mutter,  "What? You think I'm
sexy?" He says, "There you go again, breaking my balls, ha  ha." He sits down,
some of the cut hairs still on his shoulders, and says, "Now  I'm thinking,
'buzz cut', a simple buzz cut?" I mumble, "I like that. You can  give me one
when my hair gets a little longer." He turns around, "Bend down,  Dylan," I
gulp and lean over and he runs his fingers through my hair. Then,  "Okay,
it'd be a shorter than a normal buzz cut, but I could do that today. Next  time
I'll do the regular half-inch buzz, okay? Whaddaya say, buddy?" Smelling
the back of my hand I try to speak and come up with, "Uh huh." He goes, "Or
we  can wait a week and do the half inch buzz then. Either way."

This is  insane. I've never felt this way before, like I'm an idiot. I
can't fucking  function. Mumbling, "I gotta sit down for a second," I plop down
on the side of  his bed. Ryan jumps up and comes over putting his hand on my
forehead, "I knew  something was wrong, Dylan. Do you have the flu? Is it a
hangover? What's  wrong?" I'm shaking my head, "No, nothing like that," as
I brush hairs off his  shoulders and watch them drift to his bedspread, then
add, "Um, I'm just overly  tired after the break. You know, drinking too
much I guess and, um, not enough  sleep," which is all total bullshit. He hugs
around my head, saying, "You poor  kid, burning the candle at both ends
again, huh? Rob didn't text me about the  fun stuff evidently." My head's
leaning against his bare chest and all my  concentration is on not putting my
arms around his waist. All would be lost if I  did that as I'd surely end up
groveling for him to give me another chance at  being his boyfriend, begging
him to let me blow him or for him to fuck me or  spank me or
whatever-the-fuck he wanted to do with me. Tie me up, hogtie me,  whatever. I say, "No, heh
heh, I'm good now, Ryan," while gently pushing him  away because the
temptation to fondle him is too great when we're touching. I  feel like I actually
do have a fever now. "Did I feel hot to you, Ryan?" He  grins, "You're
always hot as far as I'm concerned, but I assume you mean  fever-wise. Nope, you
felt normal."

Sucking my lips again and then making  a popping sound as they part, my
face blushes. He chuckles, "You're awesome,  Dylan. I missed you." I hop off
the bed and busy myself looking in the toiletry  kit for the half inch clipper
guard, and I find the one that's a third of an  inch. Handing it to Ryan, I
ask, "Would this work for my buzz cut?" He frowns,  "How can I tell?" I
lean my head down, saying, "Push it through my hair and if  you see any hair
above the guard, then it'll work." He stands up and does that a  few places on
my head, then says, "Nah, it's okay for the top, but the sides are  shorter
than the guard." I'm thinking, 'Ah ha, so Sonny didn't make it exactly  the
same length all over my head like a clipper buzz cut. I knew it couldn't be
 done with just comb and scissors. Wait till I see him!' Ryan's looking at
me  again so my eyes shift over to his, and he asks, "I was wondering, um,
who gave  you that haircut anyway. You've had it this short since the
beginning of the  semester. It's awfully short, isn't it?" I go, "Yeah it is.
There's this kid I  mess around with who ties me to a chair and cuts my hair. He
cuts it anyway he  feels like  and I have no say in the matter." Ryan goes,
"Ooh, gawd, that  sounds sexy submissive on your part. You doing the sub/dom
sex game with him,  are you?"I mutter, "Occasionally, maybe once a month.
He's not as good as you  though. The way you where, you know, um, before."
Ryan's looking through the  toiletry kit, taking everything out of it, then
coming up with a quarter inch  guide. He tries that in my hair, and says,
"This would work but a quarter inch  buzz is too short, don'cha think?" I shrug,
surprised he didn't say anything  about my sub/dom sex comments regarding
him. It was a pretty obvious fishing  expedition on my part, so he probably
doesn't want to embarrass me by telling me  once and for all to forget that
shit as far as doing it with him goes. It's nice  of him not to embarrass me.

I'm thinking back to when Ryan and I did the  uber hot sub/dom sex
together. He sits down, saying, "We'll do your haircut in a  week or so, okay,
Dylan?" I go, "What? Do what in a week or so?" He says, "Me  doing your buzz cut
like the one you're gonna do for me. We'll be twin boyfriend  with our
haircuts again. Remember when Rob wanted the three of us to have  identical
haircuts last year?" He means last semester of freshman year. I nod my  head, "Oh
yeah, that was kinda cool, but maybe a little childish for college
students." I'm thinking about the posse boys with the same haircuts and how that
might be at the older end of the age limit for shit like that. Ryan goes,
"Fuck  childish! You and me will resurrect that tradition and be true twins
again."  Well, that certainly wasn't a submissive response from Ryan. It was
definitive  and confident, so maybe there's still hope that he's still got it
in him to be a  dominant sex partner.  'Hope' is the word representing that
stubborn thing  inside us humans that insists, despite all evidence to the
contrary, that  something we want is still a possibility. Turning on the
clipper I run then down  the middle of his head cutting the two inch hairs down
to a half inch bristle.  Ryan goes, "Oh shit, I'd forgotten how it feels to
be sheared like a sheep." He  reaches up and feels the bristles, "Fuck,
that's short!" What the fuck's he  talking about? It was his idea. He goes, "Ya
know, it makes me feel submissive  getting my hair almost shaved like this."
I go, "You asked me to do it, Ryan,"  and he's like, "No, I like it. I was
just thinking about that kid that cuts your  hair, it's a submissively sexy
thing to sit here and experience something like  that." I'm running the
clippers all over his head, thinking, 'I love doing this  but it goes too
quickly'. It's all over in less that five minutes and there's  Ryan with another
buzz cut. Now his nicely shaped head is really noticeable.  This time I can't
resist rubbing his head with both hands. "Feel good?" he asks.  I go, "Yep,
you look so hot with this haircut, Ryan." I walk around in front of  him,
push his glasses up his cute nose and rub my fingers in his buzz cut from
his forehead back, mumbling, "So cool and yet so hot." He laughs and grabs me
hugging me against him awkwardly. It's awkward because he's sitting and I'm
 standing. Ryan squeezes me, asking, "Wouldn't you like to go back in time
and  live through Rob's threesome with us twin boyfriends again? You know,
the way we  did it freshman years?" I'm sucking my lips again, putting my
cheek against his  head and getting another boner before pulling away from him
so that my boner  doesn't bump his leg, or worse. "Oh sure I would, Ryan,
you know, with you like  you were, dominant to me. It was amazing actually."

Standing up, Ryan's  brushing hairs off his shoulders and lap, then he's at
the mirror rubbing his  hand back through his buzz cut, mumbling, "Gotta
get used to this haircut again.  Gawd, it's short." Turning to me, he asks,
"Be honest, do I look like a dork  with this buzz cut?" I go, "Nooo! You look,
um, good. You look perfect,  actually, and I already told you, you're hot."
He looks at me grinning, "Let me  do the quarter inch buzz on you, please!
I want to. We'll be twin boyfriends  again." This is too much stimulation
for me. I'm gonna crack and lose my shit  entirely any second now. I shake my
head 'no', not trusting my voice again. I  want him so badly I have to turn
away busying myself wrapping the cord around  the clippers and putting the
guards that Ryan pulled out of the toiletry kit  back inside. Ryan's looking
at himself in the mirror again muttering, "Fucking  Marty's gonna be pissed,
ha ha. He likes to play in my hair when I'm sucking him  off." I scream,
"Don't tell me about that shit, Ryan! It's none of my fucking  business and I
don't want to hear it!" I can feel my face get hot and red as  Ryan looks at
me shocked, his mouth open a little, his narrow eyebrows furrowed,
frowning. In a quiet, concerned voice, he asks, "You don't want to hear what,
Dylan? I'm sorry for upsetting you," and he comes over putting his hands on my
shoulders, turning me around. I look at his awesome physique, his scent
filling  my head, my eyelids fluttering on their own. Lifting my eyes I see his
cute  concerned face and those eyeglasses and his crisp buzz cut. "What is
it, Dylan?  I wouldn't do anything to upset you on purpose." I've simply got
to get out of  here. I mutter, "I gotta go. I'll walk back," as I zip up the
toiletry kit. "You  gotta go? Go where? And I'll drive you. What's wrong?"
So fucking sincere, and  so hot and sexy and cute is Ryan.

He's still looking at me with a hand  on each of my shoulders again, me
holding the toiletry kit, ready to go  somewhere, anywhere away from Ryan's
temptations. He grins, shaking me gently,  "Tell me, Dylan, what is it? Can I
help?" and, dropping the toiletry kid, I fall  against him hugging him with
tears running down my face mumbling near his ear,  "I love you and miss you
and I'm so depressed you've left me behind for that  fuckwad, Marty. That's
what's wrong, you fucking idiot." I couldn't hug him any  tighter, the side
of my face next to his and the feel of his tight body, oh so  wonderful to
hold. He's rubbing his hands on my back, not saying anything. I  don't fuckin'
blame him for not saying anything, what can you say to a crazy  person who
se lost it. Then I mumble, "I'm sorry, I just made a totally ass of  myself.
I gotta go," as I try breaking away from him, but he holds on to me,
saying, "You're not going anywhere. We're gonna smoke a joint and you're gonna
calm the fuck down." My body goes limp in his arms, as he's saying, "I was
speechless there for a minute, Dylan. I had no idea you felt that way about me
 and I gotta tell you, I've never been more flattered in my life. You've
made me happy in so many ways for so many days, the best days of my life in
the  past, but the thought those days might not be over yet never entered my
mind."  He turns me around and takes my arm, leading me over to his bed,
"Come on over  here and sit on the bed." He's leaning his head over looking up
at my face,  "Look at those tears. Remember when I'd spank you until you
were blubbering like  a big baby? Huh, those were the days my friend." I nod my
head still in a fog.  He goes, " Well, what did I do back then? Huh?" and
he takes out his  handkerchief, one that he's used, holds it to my nose with
a finger on either  side of my nose, and says, "Give me a big blow." I do
that and can't help but  grin at how stupid this is, while remembering sitting
on his lap, my head above  his, and him reaching up to get me to blow my
nose. "Another," he says, and I  pull my head away, "No, I feel like a
jerk-off doing this, I'm okay now, Ryan.  Thanks for the memories though." He rubs
my head, telling me, "I'm lighting a  joint. Would you crack that window for
me?" I get up feeling like the world's  biggest dork and open the window a
foot. Cold air pours in as I smell the first  whiff of weed.

Ryan puts a Fray's CD in the player and we sit on his bed  passing the
joint back and forth without saying anything, just listening to the  music.
After we share two joints I'm feeling free of enough inhibitions to lay  against
him and  rub the side of my face against his. The subtle feel of  his minor
beard makes me smile, thinking, 'Jesus Christ, as if I wasn't desiring  him
enough already, now the beginnings of a beard. If he wanted, I could easily
 wind-up as Ryan's lap dog. It would be okay with me. He sighs and then
puts his  arms around me rubbing up and down my back, quietly saying, "Remember
when you  were really submissive to me, not only with the sex but just
about all the rest  of the time too?" I go, "Un huh," and he kisses the side of
my forehead, saying,  "And do you remember I wouldn't allow you to have sex
with anybody but me,  except Rob of course?" I nod my head, and he goes,
"Well, that's the way Marty  is with me. I'm not allowed to have sex with
anybody but him or he'll cut me  off, and with him as my roommate that would be
really painful for me. Imagine  Rob cutting you off and you guys sleeping
together at the apartment every night.  That's my dilemma, Dylan. You know I'll
always love you, but for now that's all  I can do. Love you." I'm feeling
like such a needy loser, but I like being held  by Ryan. He's making me feel
good, like I'm a little boy being taken care of.  Okay, what he's saying is
some tough love, some cold hard facts of life, but he  cares about me enough
to take care of me even If I can't have my own way. Us  kids need to learn
these hard things. Ryan feels so good and smells so good, I  finally mutter,
"That's okay." He goes, "No, it isn't okay, but I don't know how  to fix
it. I'm hung up on Marty's dominant sex like you used to be with me."  Barely
above a whisper, I say again, "That's okay," and add, "Can we just lay  down
on your bed together for a little while? The weed's fucking with my head."
He lays over on his side still holding be in his arms, and we move around a
 little bit until we're both laying lengthwise on his bed with his bare
chest  against my back, his arms hugging me, his breath on the back of my neck.
We lay  like this without talking, me too humiliated to even spring a
boner. I would  have a boner in my pants under normal circumstances any time I
snuggled with  him.

By the time the CD plays through all the cuts and has started on the  first
cut again my head has cleared, and I say, "I'm going to get up now, Ryan.
Thanks for being nice, but I feel very embarrassed about my behavior. I
guess  Robby's right, my behavior sucks." He asks, "Did Rob say that to you?" I
mumble,  "In so many words, yeah, but he means well." I sit up and Ryan sits
up with me.  Just as I get the willpower to stand up and move away from
Ryan, move anywhere  that's away from the temptation of Ryan, I turn to him and
lean back against him  all over again. He turns his body towards mine and
hugs me, rubbing the back of  my head, his fingers in my hair, then pulling
my head over for a kiss on my lips  and both my arms go around him as I feel
my eyes watering. I snuggle against  him, asking pathetically, "Can't we be
lovers, Ryan? Pleaseeeee." He kisses me  and it's one of his special kisses
that no one I've ever known can do nearly as  well, and now my cock does
bone-up tightly. I begin moaning with sexual pleasure  creeping all over me.
Then, before he breaks off the kiss, one of my legs goes  over his lap and I'm
humping my hips against his side gently, feeling an orgasm  building in my
balls. Ryan says quietly, "No, Dylan, don't do this to yourself,"  and he
lets go of me and stands up, saying, "You're breaking my fuckin' heart  here,
Dylan. I've  explained already I love you and want you, but I'd lose
Marty." I go, "He won't know. How would he know?" Ryan lights another joint, his
hands trembling a little as he fumbles with the lighter, "He'd know. I'm a
terrible liar." I go, "He wouldn't know. You just don't want to do it with
me. I  understand."

Ryan exhales exasperatedly, passing me the joint but I shake  my head 'no'
and he takes another hit off it holding the smoke in his lungs for  a bit.
Then, as he's exhaling towards the window, he says, "It'd be worth it to
lose Marty if I thought you'd stick with me, but there's complications. One of
which is I don't want to do the dominant shit anymore because I don't want
to  hurt you. Not even if you want it and like it. And I've told you that
before.  Plus another complication is, well you know how you are, Dylan. I
love you, but  a month from now you might get bored with me again and change
your mind. Where  the fuck would that leave me. I'm not sexy looking and
gorgeous like you. You  snap your fingers and three gay boys fight each other for
the chance to be with  you. I snap my fingers and some bully tells me to,
'Cut that shit out, nerd!'."  I'm getting mad, "Bullshit to both of your
complications. I wasn't tired of you,  ever. You make it sound like I'm some
narcissistic asshole. It was you who moved  to Georgia and took my heart with
you, and this year it was you who were  screwed-up because of the summer you
spent with those perverted sadist you  always seem to hook up with." He
shrugs, "You're right, you're right." Putting  out the joint, he rubs his face,
muttering, "Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, Dylan, I  can't. That's all, I just can't.
I want to so badly, but I can't pull the  trigger and take a chance on you."
Fuck it, I'm done groveling. Picking up my  toiletry kid, I say, "You don't
have any reason to be sorry, Ryan. It's me who  needs to apologize to you,
and I do apologize for my pathetic groveling. It was  inexcusable. I'm sorry
for laying all my pathetic shit on you. It's my problem,  not yours. You're
fine." He says, "Don't go, Dylan, Not like this. We got all  night," he
looks at his wristwatch, "It's only four o'clock in the afternoon,  for
chrissakes. Let's hang out!"

I take a deep breath, then exhale while  puffing my cheeks out looking at
him.  He grins sheepishly with an  expression on his face that conveys, 'Come
on...' Huh, he's so attractive, to me  he is anyway. I shrug, "Sure, lets
hang out. It'll be brutally painful for me to  be with you knowing I can't
have you, and I'll have a major case of blue balls,  but what the fuck, it'll
be worth it to me just being with you." He makes a  'face', then says, "Have
you started taking drama lessons by any chance?" I  smile, "No, that's from
my pure heart. You need to kiss me through, and make-up  for hurting my
feelings worse than they've ever been hurt before. Rejection is  such a
motherfucker!" Ryan goes, "And you're sure you're not taking drama  lesson, right?"
I grin, shrugging, "It's from my heart, dude. Fuck a whole bunch  of drama
lessons." He comes over to stand in front of me, and to show him I'm  cool
with goofing off, I go, "Oh, have you stopped growing?" as I rub my hands
back through his new buzz cut. He goes, "Yeah, this is as tall as I'm ever
gonna  get, sad, huh?" I lean my head down so our foreheads are touching, my
hands on  his shoulder. He says, "You can't possibly imagine how hard it is to
resist you,  Dylan. You have no fucking idea." I say, "Then don't," and he
says, "Okay then,  I won't," and his lips are on mine and our arms go around
each other. The first  long kiss is Ryan's magical one that lasts awhile.
Soon precum rolls down the  hard shaft of my fully boned-up cock as I moan
into his mouth,  "Mmmmm,mmm."

Ryan hasn't lost his kissing technique and I hate the  thought of him using
the way he's kissing me on those turd's in Georgia, or  fuckwad Marty. I
hope he saves this kiss just for me. My hands are rubbing all  over his back
and up the back of his head into his buzz cut hair, crisp and new.  Our faces
move together as we suck and kiss each other's lips and tongues.  Ryan's
moaning quietly himself now, hugging around my chest pulling me tightly  to
his smaller, hard body. His scent, taste, and the feel of him seems familiar
and yet new because it's been awhile. Ryan's abandon all pretenses of
self-control and hopefully he's allowing his true feeling to show, and it makes
me squirm with pleasure knowing he still desires me. He's dragging his lips
and  tongue on my cheek, then licking hungrily around my mouth. Everything
he's doing  has a desperation feel to it, a sense of urgency and deep sexual
attraction of  sexual heat. We're both slightly wild and out of control,
desperately and  hungrily humping our crotches against each other, two hard
boners dueling behind  closed doors. Kissing and sucking and licking, saliva
all around our mouths,  slippery and wet and warm and smelling like him. My
orgasm builds and builds,  faster and faster until I'm whining with my mouth
on Ryan's , "Ooooh, Ryan,  oooh, Ryan, umm, umm, I'm, I'm, aaaaah, ooh," and
cum burst as a spray into my  underpants as I press my self against him
stiff as a board continually pressing  my hips against his. Then, a long ,
"Eeeeee," as my full climax explodes and a  long stream of cum leaves my
quivering rock hard cock creating a pool of cum in  my pants, Then another stream of
cum with blinding lights going off in my head.  My crotch all sticky and
creamy wet and me now laying limply against him,  actually hanging onto Ryan,
my face plastered against his, tears again in my  eyes. I keep moving my
face side to side, back and forth against his with Ryan  rubbing my back and
squeezing the back of my neck, going, "Shhh, shhh, it's all  good Dylan," and
I realize I'm shaking like a leaf and saying a mantra of,  "Oooh, ooh, ooh,
ooh," still humping against Ryan. He's doing side steps  bringing us both to
his bed where he gently pulls me over on the bed. I hug him  with all my
might, but I can't stop shaking. It was a scary strong climax with  sizzling
sensations of sexual ecstasy all around my groin while inside my thighs
there were darts of sexual pleasure just this side of pain. Sensations die out
quickly though and my shoulders do one last shudder, then I'm calmer. My now
 flaccid cock laying helpless in my wet underpants, as wet as if I pissed
myself  and maybe I did. This is a new level of arousal for me. Maybe because
of the  long, long lead-up to our serious make-out with me daring to hope
it would work  out. Well, it hasn't actually worked out, not when I consider
I climaxed after a  three minute make-out with Ryan. What could I do though?
His scent and his body  and him, totally overwhelming all logic and sense
in my brain and I've been  yearning for him the past six weeks, enamored by
memories of the way it  was.

When my heart stops beating like a drum and I can catch my breath,  still
being held in Ryan surprisingly strong arms, I take one last deep breath,
then turn my head to look in Ryan's eyes, saying, "Have I broken the world
record yet for the most humiliating emotional displays in a row? I believe
that's a category in the Guinness Book Of World Records, or if not it should
be." He grins, shaking his head, "You're one of a kind, Dylan, but no, you
haven't broken the record. You've merely tied the record for most
humiliating  displays. Tied with an obese man who couldn't stop farting in a packed
church  during a funeral service and after each fart he'd giggle
uncontrollably." I go,  "I tied him though, right?" Ryan says, "No, you nut, I lied. Fact
is, if I'm  keeping score and you haven't even had one humiliatingly
emotional display. You  have, however, managed to make me feel wonderful about
myself. If someone as  perfect as you is willing to humble himself for my
affections, I must be okay or  better than okay." I wrestle around to get face to
face with him, rubbing my  nose against his, then murmur, "I love you Ryan,
I don't know why I thought I  didn't because I do." He quietly says, as
he's rubbing tears from my eyes with  his thumb, "We've had this talk before a
number of times. Is it that you're in  love with me or in love with my
sexuality, which just happens to fulfill most of  your unconscious desires. And
believe me, I'm shocked you feel so strongly about  me. Shocked but honored
too, at the risk of being corny." I say, "Where are your  glasses?" He nods
his head at the desk, "Didn't you see me take them off just  before I
attacked you?" I go, "I love your glasses and I'm thinking of getting a  pair just
like them, only with clear glass." He mutters, "Twin boyfriends,  huh?"

Getting off the bed, I go over to pick up his glasses, walk back  grinning
and then slide the glasses on him, then get back on the bed, pick up  his
arm pulling it over and around me and snuggle into him. He laughs and hugs
me. "I almost resisted you, Dylan, almost held out. Miracles of miracles, but
in  the end I couldn't and neither could anyone else you desired." My arm
goes  around behind his head and I pull it over to mine. With my lips touching
his as  I speak, I ask, "Do you kiss everyone like you kiss me?" He looks
startled for a  second, then a frown like he's puzzled. Finally a smile, and
he says, "I never  thought of that before, but no, I've never kissed anyone
the way I kiss you.  That is so weird. I kiss you the way I feel about you
and I haven't ever felt  about anyone else like I feel about you. Not even
Rob in the early days. I was  grateful to him for being nicer to me than any
other guy ever, until I met you."  I rub my nose against his again, then ask,
"Do you love, Marty?" He goes, "Nooo!  God no! Love him? Fuck no! Not even
close. You're the only other person except  my mom and dad that I've ever
loved, and I love you much, much differently than  my parents," and he
stretches out the word 'much' like he stretched out the  word, 'no' when I asked if
he loved fuckwad Marty. I say, "You're making me feel  good, Ryan." He nods
his head a little, saying, "Let me ask you something, you  know, since
you're been asking me wicked personal shit about who I love." I  shrug, "What's
the question?" He comes right out with, "Do you love Rob?" I nod  my head,
"Yeah, I do," and he asks, "Could you ever imagine leaving him for me?"  I
drop my eyes, thinking, and he goes, "You couldn't, could you?" I look at him,
 "There was a time I'd say I couldn't, but I didn't expect all my feelings
for  you to bombard me like they've been doing for weeks now, and Robby's
been acting  differently. Then I noticed myself always stealing glances at you
and being  clumsy on purpose to bump into you or touch you, seemingly
accidentally. It just  built and built until it exploded and I acted the fool you
witnessed today. So,  maybe I could leave Rob for you, Ryan. The best thing
would be if our threesome  went on forever and I wouldn't need to leave
either of you."

He thinks  about that as I stare at his lips comparing them to Theo/Bean's
lips. They're  almost identical and so are their eyebrows, and it's rare for
guys to have tight  narrow eyebrows like those two have. But that's about
where the similarities of  Theo and Ryan end. No, they both have long cocks
too, but Ryan's is about twice  as thick as Theo's. Nah, that's an
exaggeration I guess. Hell, I'm surprised  anything about Theo can compare to Ryan.
Ryan says, "So you're saying maybe you  could leave Rob for me, maybe. Well, I
guess that's the best answer I've ever  gotten from you about my chances.
You're re-igniting my hopes, you devilish boy,  even though I still have that
niggling little thought in the back of my mine  that no matter how close to
winning you for myself, Rob would beat me by a  nose." Ah, a horse racing
analogy. I squeeze his nose, "It'd be hard to beat  your cute nose, Ryan,"
and I push his glasses up that cute nose. He grins, "You  better be being
honest with me. It's going to be hard breaking this news to  Marty." I say,
"Don't break it yet. You say I'll change my mind and move on to  another in a
month, or whenever. Let me prove that's not gonna happen." He gives  me a
'look' I can't interpret, and says, "So, I should live a lie with Marty and
wait, huh?" I go, "Yep, that's what you should do. That's what I hope you do.
You'll decide that for yourself."

He smiles, "Yeah, I guess I will at  that," and we make-out some more, but
not desperately like before. I'm thrilled,  loving ever second of touching
him, and tasting him, and smelling him close up  like this again. It's just
like I remember during our best days in the past. My  hand's inside the back
of his jeans now, squeezing his bare tight butt cheek and  kissing and
licking him even as my cock slushes around inside my underpants in  the cooled
spunk that's preventing it from boning-up. Then we just lay together  with me
running the back of my fingers over his newly buzzed hair and Ryan  tracing
a finger around my lips and every once in a while flicking that finger  up
the front of my nose in a teasing manner as he grins at me. He looks very
happy and contended and I know I am. Finally he says, "You're the most
attractive boy, young man, whatever, I've ever seen in my whole life and how I
deserve to have you feel about me the way you do just blows my mind.
Considering  all the guys who mocked me and abused me growing up, and now look at me
with  you. How do you like me now, motherfucker's? Huh? Ha ha." I go,
"Thanks for the  compliments, Ryan." He goes, "I'm laying in bed with the hottest
sexiest best  looking young man ever, and those asshole's aren't. That's for
all the losers  who rejected me in most unpleasant ways. Plus I'm feeling
how much you like me,  Dylan." I say, "I love you." He murmurs, "Even
better." Later he says, "I hate  to do it, but I just gotta get up and take a piss
before I piss my pants.  Sorry." I go, "Don't be sorry, I've had to pee for
an hour," and we both get up  and go down the hall to the lavatory. We piss
standing next to each others'  urinal. Ryan says, "No peeking," so I look
over at him pissing, thinking his  large cock still looks out of place between
his legs on that tight little  smaller body and it occurs to me, it's just
like Sonny's. Same oversized penises  for undersized bodies. Well, not
undersized, except for the size of their  cocks.

There's a guy shaving at one of the sinks and two guys in the  shower so I
don't want to clean the spunk that's all around my groin here, but I  wet a
paper towel and take a few dry ones back to the room. In Ryan's dorm I  drop
my drawers and Ryan smirks watching me wipe spunk from my genitals. I look
up, and say, "I'm washing my genitals," and he goes, "Yeah, that's what I
guessed you were doing. Nice looking genitals you got there." As I'm drying
myself I'm grinning, feeling much better about my situation down there
although  I still need to deal with my cum soaked underwear. I'm making a face
wiping at  the cum all over the front of my underpants. Ryan hops up, saying,
"I'll get you  a pair of my underwear, take those off." I do that and stand
naked below the  waist as he goes through a bureau drawer, muttering,
"It'll be embarrassing if I  don't have a pair of clean underwear." I go, "I hope
you don't. Then I'd get to  wear a pair of your dirty ones." He chuckles
and then goes, "Ta da!" holding up  a pair of tightie-withies. He tosses them
to me, saying, "The 'Ta da' I got from  you." I put his underwear on,
muttering, "Catchy," then I ask, "Aren't you going  to fuck me?" He says, "I'm
planning on talking to you about that, Dylan."  Rubbing my nose, looking at
him, "So talk."

We sit on the bed again and  Ryan says, "Well, when I lost my mind and
began making out with you an hour ago,  I had every intention of fucking you for
a very long time. However I'd forgotten  your propensity for cumming in
your pants from making-out with me. When you did  that, getting a bit crazy
yourself, and then we calmed down on my bed, I began  to think about it some
more, you know without my head so cloudy with thoughts of  sexual arousal
centering around you. So here's what I thought about: As I said,  I don't feel
sexually dominant anymore. You were the first guy who ever let me  fuck him.
That was my cherry right there in that regard, and fucking you  successfully
emboldened me back then. Then I saw how receptive to dominant sex  you were
so I began imitating some of the things done to me when I was  submissive;
believe me, it was only the milder stuff. No matter though because  that
mild dominant stuff got you extremely aroused and it was exciting for me to
see the affect I could have on you, but at the same time I knew it wasn't the
real me. Like I told you at the beginning of this semester, we're alike,
you and  me. We both prefer being submissive bottoms and this is a long way
around to  saying, I can't be that dominant lover you like. If, however, a
regular lover  will do, I'd eagerly  try that." He grins, shrugging, "Don't be
mad at me,  Dylan." I rub my fingers in his hair again, looking at him,
"That's alright,  Ryan, I got crazy aroused by you this afternoon and you were
really nice to me,  not even slightly dominant. Robby's not dominant either
and we have wonderful  sex." "Yeah, Dylan, for now, but how about a month
from now when you crave a  dominant sex partner? And you'll be out searching
for your sub/dom fix at some  point? I've been there, remember? I know the
urges that can develop. They sneak  up on you." I say, "Well, will you take my
suggestion then? Live a lie with  Marty until you and me are sure we're
good." He says, "If I do, and we find  we're awesome together a few months from
now can I hope there's a chance I can  win you from Rob? A real
chance.That's the main factor we both need to face  honestly, being honest with each
other and with ourselves. Being honest with  ourselves is the real sticking
point, isn't it?"

to be continued...   Donny Mumford    _thinat20@yahoo.com_
(mailto:thinat20@yahoo.com)




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



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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