Date: Sun, 12 Apr 2015 10:22:59 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR Chapter  53

DYLAN'S  SOPHOMORE YEAR


Chapter  53


by  Donny Mumford


Tracy looks around the  apartment, then asks, "Hey, where do we do the
shampoo, or were you just  breaking my balls about that?" I'm like, "Follow me,"
and lead him to my  bedroom. He says, "Very neat," meaning the bedroom
isn't messy. Robby and I try  keeping it neat. I say, "You should see my
brother's bedroom, it's looks like a  tornado went through it." Then, with me
dragging the straight back chair, we  continue into the bathroom. The chair is
placed facing away from the sink and  I reattach the short hose with the spray
head to the sink's faucet. "This  is where we do the shampoo, Trace. Um,
you need to take your shirt off?" He  makes a 'face', like he thinks I'm
kidding, "Really? Why do I need to do that?"  I explain, "Two reasons: your
shirt's collar would get wet during the shampoo  and I don't have a barber's cape
for the haircut, so your shirt would be covered  with hair clippings." He
shrugs, grinning, "Oh," and then takes his shirt off,  saying, "A cape seems
like an easy enough thing to buy online," and I go, "Yeah,  but than I
wouldn't get to see everyone's body." He laughs, "Oh yeah, I see what  you mean."
Tracy's chest is almost hairless but it's still pretty hot. There's a
sprinkling of chest hairs between his pecs, but that's it. Nice definition
without being gaudy, although it does appear he works out. "You working out
somewhere, Trace?" He nods, "Yeah, I joined Body World and workout two or three
 mornings a week." I go, "I'd say that's the perfect amount of workout for
you.  Nice bod!" He sits in the chair, grinning, "Thanks, Dylan, you too.
Hey, I've  been meaning to ask you, how'd it feel getting your nipple pierced.
I've been  trying to work up the guts to get that done myself." As I begin
wetting his long  hair, I mumble, "I'd say it's probably not as painful as
childbirth or getting  the head of your dick pierced, but it'd be next in
line, pain-wise." He's like,  "Painful, huh?" I go, "Yeah, but it only hurts
for a couple of months," and he  laughs again. "Fuck! I thought you were going
to say a couple of  minutes."


As  I'm spreading shampoo into his hair I'm thinking it's going to be fun
cutting  this long hair to burr length. I ask, "You're serious about getting
a burr  haircut, right?" He shrugs, "Yeah, not that I ever thought about a
short  haircut, not until I started seeing your various short haircuts the
last year  and a half or so. It got me thinking that short hair looks sexy and
ballsy on  the right guy. I only hope I have the 'looks' to pull it off as
well as you do."  I chuckle, "Actually, I'm guessing that a lot more people
don't like my haircut  than do, and actually I'm not thrilled about it
myself. And very few people  think it's sexy, if any, except you." He shrugs
again, "Fuck 'em then. They're  probably confusing me with someone who gives a
shit." Like with most guys, as I  massage Tracy's scalp and shampoo his hair,
he stops talking and relaxes with  his eyes lightly closed. He's a handsome
guy with some 'cute' mixed in with the  handsome, and he's got an extremely
likable personality too. Tracy definitely  doesn't take himself too
seriously either, or acts like he's special. A rare  combination that works for
him, especially in the romance department, but mostly  with girls. I'm pretty
sure though that there are few gay men who wouldn't be  hyper interested if
they felt they had a chance with Tracy. As for me, I never  would have
guessed he's bisexual in the first place, and I'm flattered he's  attracted to me.
I'm also a bit puzzled by it as well. After saying that, I need  to admit
to myself I'm sometime puzzled why I'm so attracted to some guys and  not
others; Ryan, for example. I wonder what it is exactly that I find so sexy  and
attractive about him? I mean considering no one else he's met in his life
appears to have felt the same attraction for him that I have. If I can
believe  him, he's never even had a close friend before me. I'm either missing
something really important about Ryan, or all those  guys he's known before me
are missing what I'm seeing. Although when I consider  all the people who
get married it's like everyone is attracted to a person that  no one else
thought special enough to marry. Do we all convince ourselves  somehow that
we're attracted to a specific someone as some sort of a self  fulfilling
prophecy?


As  for Robby and me, we seemed to be mutually attracted to each other from
the very  start, beginning with those sexy massages in the locker room we
gave each other  that first summer. And then that first kiss. After three
years, more or less  with Robby, I no longer even question our love, or why I'm
in love with him.  It's a true love I feel in my whole being. We've got a
connection that runs deep  and it seems to run deeper the longer we're
together. My recent increased  feeling for Ryan doesn't seem to fit the scenario I
just described for Robby and  me, but it's a new development and I haven't
figured it out yet. As for Robby,  he often gives me that special 'look',
the one like he's thrilled to see me.  Chubby always has shown me a special
smile when he sees me. Huh,  I just he doesn't always show it like Chubby
does. That's probably because Robby and me have little disagreements about
things from time to time, sometimes about side-sex partners, whereas Chubby
never has a disagreement with me about anything. He loves me unconditionally
and I  think he's the only one who does. That's alright though because he's
the only  person I love unconditionally too. I get disappointed in Robby at
times, but  still love him through my disappointment. Ha, life can be a
confusing bitch at  times, can't it? I can't figure life out and I wonder if
anybody truly can. Some  might fool themselves into thinking they have it
figured out, some egomaniacal  person maybe, but I don't think they have. I mean,
how do we really know exactly  why we love someone, or why we do the things
we do. It always comes back to the  subconscious mind. It rules no matter
what we think consciously. Everyone's  subconscious mind is different too
because no two people have ever had the exact  same experiences, the exact same
minute to minute inputs to their brain from the  second they're born and
continuing their whole life. And to that I say, so  what?! Diversity's a good
thing.


Truth is we can only  make the best of what we have to work with, and so
much of our lives are out of  our control in the form mostly of happenstance
anyway. We're products of our  environment that includes the parents we're
born to, who we meet and are  influenced by, and what we experience as we live
our lives. Some of us do more  with what we've got than others, but we're
all limited to a degree by what we've  got. I for one wish I was born with a
better brain, and while I'm at it I wish I  was taller too.. ha ha. Money of
course is another piece of the equation, but  maybe not as important as
some seem to think it is. Hell, being born rich hasn't  helped Willie
Worthington much. Not as far as him being happy with himself and  his life. It
doesn't appear to have helped his parents either for that matter.  Not from what I
know of them anyway. And how about sons of oil rich dictators  and the like
who live destructive lives of self indulgence. Oh, here's a  question I
just thought of: why the fuck am I going on about this shit? It's  gotta be my
idiotic stream of consciousness mind that began with me being  puzzled about
Tracy seemingly being attracted to me? Attracted to me to the  degree he
even wants to rock the odd haircut I've got. Huh! I don't know the  answers to
most questions I ask myself, including the ones about Tracy and  Ryan.

Looking at the side of  Tracy's face and then his hot body I gotta wonder
why I care what the reasons  are he's attracted to me? I'm just glad he is!
For one thing it's good for my  self-image that someone as cool as Tracy
singled me out from all the college  students visiting his speakeasy to be his
friend and sex-buddy. Yeah, that's  true, but I also need to stop thinking
about all this stuff and start  concentrating on what I'm doing. I begin
rinsing the shampoo out of Tracy's  hair. Then, because of it's length and
thickness it takes a concerted effort  getting his hair partially dry with a
towel, bumps his head around a little and  brings Tracy out of his apparently
pleasant trance. I grin as he blinks his  eyes, saying, "Jesus! That was an
awesomely pleasurable experience, Dylan. I'll  return the favor when I give you
that bath sometime." I chuckle, "Don't kid  yourself, I want that fuckin'
bath. How big's the tub?" He says, "Big enough for  both of us. Big enough to
drown in." I mutter, "That big, huh?" and turn the  hair dryer on. Combing
through his hair speeds the process of drying his long  hair and now I see
some highlights in his brown hair I hadn't noticed before.  Nice hair
actually and he's lucky to have it, although I'd bet anything he takes  it for
granted. Only guys with premature baldness realize the importance of a  nice
head of hair. I ask again, "You sure you want me to cut all this awesome  hair
off, Trace?" He goes, "That's the second time you've asked me that, Dylan.
Is there something you're not telling me?" I go, "No, I already told you
most  people don't like burr haircuts, but aside from that you have a great
head of  hair which is kinda mandatory for really short haircuts to look their
best.  You've got a good hairline across your forehead, no cowlicks, and
your hair is  dense so your scalp won't show through no matter how short it
is." He says,  "Then I want to see myself in that haircut that you're rockin'.
At least once in  my life anyway." I say, "You got it, dude. My pleasure,"
then, "Oops, wait," and  I comb his hair on the side of his head off his ear,
and say, "Whew! You have  nice looking ears too. Some guys have Dumbo ears
which can be cute depending how  youthful and cute the guy is, but big ears
can also look kinda funny with super  short haircuts. No worries for you
though, your ears are quite nice." He laughs,  "Hey, my ears showed with the
ponytail." I mumble, "I'm busting your balls,  dude, that's all."


When his hair's so clean  and dry it's full of static electricity, I pat
his shoulder, "We're ready for  the haircut." He follows me out of the
bathroom carrying his shirt in one hand  and running the fingers of his other hand
through his long hair, maybe saying  goodbye to it. Pulling one of the
stools at the kitchen bar to the center  of the tiled area, I pat it and say, "My
modern barber's chair." Tracy sits on  the stool  grinning while I'm
turning on the radio for some background  sounds. I take the barber tools out,
thinking, 'FUN!' Cutting hair is fun and  'Fun' is the rock group singing on
the radio too. It'll be scissors and comb  first, telling Tracy, "I'll cut a
lot of the long hair off with scissors and  then you'll hear something you
probably aren't familiar with. It's called  electric barber's clippers." He
says, "You think you're joking, but I can't  remember the last real haircut I
got in a barbershop." I go, "Well your record's  intact because this isn't a
barbershop." He says, "It's close enough. Let me see  those things," as he
points at the clippers. I hand him the Oster 76, saying,  "This is a
professional heavy-duty barber clipper. It could cut through all your  hair whether
I took the bulk off first with scissors or not. The smaller one is  the
trimmer clipper that acts like a razor to outline your hairline. In this  case
your ears and down behind your ears to give the professional appearance. If
you were getting a buzz cut sometimes the barber will outline across your
forehead's and down to your sideburns. It creates a temporary new hairline
some  guys think is stylish. I've had it done a few times myself and it's
pretty  cool."


He's turning the  clippers over and feeling the blade. "It doesn't feel
very sharp." I tell him  the edges of the short teeth are very sharp, but I
couldn't cut him with the  clippers unless I tried to." He asks, "Could you
just use this clipper for the  whole haircut. I think that'd be a cool
experience." I say, "No. I mean I could,  but I don't want to because it'd go too
fast and wouldn't be as much fun for  me." He's like, "Cutting hair is fun?" I
go, "Yep!" and comb his hair forward so  it's completely covering his face,
the ends of his hair extend an inch below his  chin. With the scissors I
cut the hairs down to one inch bangs across his  forehead, "Scrunch, scrunch,
scrunch," go the scissors cutting through the clean  dry hair. Tons of hair
falls into his lap and he goes, "Holy shit!" It's a pile  of ten inch long
hairs and he picks up a handful. Holding it up and looking at  me, he
mumbles, "I changed my mind," and we both laugh. I say, "This is a very  different
look for you already," and pass him the handheld mirror. He laughs,  "Oh
fuck, I look like the guy in that old, 'Dumb and Dumber' movie." Not really,
but that's a funny flick. Tracy reaches up and feels his short bangs running
his  fingers through them, muttering, "Feels funny." I comb up a lot of hair
on the  side of his head and close the scissors along the comb, "Scrunch,
scrunch,  scrunch," and his ear appears. All around his head I comb up a lot
of hair and,  "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch," until most of the hair left on
his head is an inch  to two inches long. I ruffle his fair, mumbling, "Now the
clippers, Trace." His  fingers are all over his head with him grinning,
saying, "I've made a huge  mistake."


When he's done fucking  around, I say, "You've got options at this point,
Tracy. There are a number of  ways I could go from here. Do you wanna hear
them?" He says, "Nope, no thanks,  Dylan. I still want to do the burr thingie
like yours." Okay, I'm convinced he's  serious so I put a eight inch guide
on the clippers and run them most of the way  up the sides and back of his
head sending untold thousands of long hairs to his  shoulders, back, and lap.
It's so fucking cool watch the hair fall away from the  clippers! Taking the
eight of an inch guide off, I start using a clippers over  comb method for
the rest of the haircut. It takes maybe ten minutes to basically  duplicate
the latest haircut Ryan gave me, which he did a little over three  weeks ago
now. When I'm satisfied all the hairs are perfectly blended, I use the
trimmers around and behind his ears, taper the neckline a little, and when
satisfied pass him the handheld mirror again. He looks at his haircut and runs
his fingers over his head, then says, "It's just like yours alright, or the
way  yours looked a month ago." Actually I think it's better than mine, but
I'm not  gonna take offense he thinks it's the same. He wouldn't understand
the subtle  differences anyway. I ask, "Well, what do you think?" He
shrugs, "Don't matter  much what I think now, but I hardly recognize myself and my
head feels funny. I  feel lighter." It's such a drastic change anyone would
be a little shocked at  first. I'm like, "I don't get the feeling you
exactly love this new look," and  he says, "It's what I wanted, and now that I
see what I look like with it, I  gotta say you pull it off better than me." I
go, "It looks okay, Trace, but you  do look a couple years younger. Plus,
with a radical change like this it takes  some getting used to by you and
anyone who knows you." He mutters, "I feel  scalped," as we start brushing cut
hairs off him, and that takes some doing.  After that I sweep up the hair as
he stares at himself in the big mirror on the  wall over the sofa.


As I'm dumping the hair  in the trash I realize I didn't get sexually
aroused during that haircut. Not  like I expected I might and not like I get when
Ryan's giving me a haircut.  That's a little disappointing, but I didn't
even think about it while I was  cutting his hair. Mostly I was concentrating
on getting it right. I walk over  and stand beside him looking at our ref
lection in the mirror, "Bobbsey Twins, Trace." He says, "Your hair is  furry
and mine is prickly." I go, "Yours will be stiff and prickly for about a
week. By then it's grown back a bit and the ends get tapered to be fuzzy like
mine." He runs his hand over his head, "It feels good though, and I'm
starting  to get used to it already. Yeah, I like it. Hey, do I look like a cute
badass?"  I say, "Checkout cute badass online and they'll be a picture of you
with this  haircut." He laughs, "I checked it out already and there was a
picture of you."  I say, "Is that fuckin' picture still online? I need a
smoke," and we head for  the balcony with Tracy saying, "I smoked some in high
school, but gave it up."  Outside I ask, "Do you mind if I smoke?" He shakes
his head, "No, I liked  smoking actually, but I've heard a rumor about heart
disease and cancer being  somehow associated with cigarette smoking." I go,
"You're shitting me." He  laughs and rubs his head again making me a little
jealous because he used to rub  mine. Ah yes, an unexpected consequence of
giving Tracy his own burr haircut to  rub.













































































































We talk about his  haircut as I smoke and Tracy continues feeling his
bristly hair. He says, "What  a weird sensation seeing my hair coming away from
my head in bunches. Those  clippers don't mess around. First those sharp
scissors and all that fucking long  hair falling away. And then you run the
clippers along the comb and all this  hair lands on me, jeez what an experience!
Ya know what though? You giving me  that haircut was almost a sexual
experience, or am I crazy?" I shrug, "I don't  know, but for most guys getting a
haircut isn't sexy at all, although I agree  with you that in a way it is.
I've always thought it was sexy and kinda  intimate." He says, "Yeah, it is,
but maybe that's just because you and me kinda  have the hots for each
other." I go, "Yeah, that might have something to do with  it." Truth is though I
think it's sexy even when I don't have the hots for the  guy I'm giving a
haircut to. Like Dawg that time. Plus I've gotten all hot and  bothered a few
times when Willie was dominantly making me get very short  haircuts. I
certainly didn't have the hots for those old barbers who were  cutting my hair.
No, it was the submissiveness of sitting there while the barber  and Willie
discussed how short my hair should be... that's what got me sexually
aroused. And how fuckin' weird is that?! I'm not going to try explaining that to
Tracy though.


He does look like a  different person and I'm thinking, oh fuck, he was
sexier with the ponytail, or  maybe I think that because Robby and Ryan have
ponytails now. Tracy looks  vulnerable somehow or maybe he just feels a little
lost temporarily because of  this drastic change in appearance. I ask,
"You've never had a buzz cut, even as  a little kid?" He shakes his head,
"Never! My father's has had the same longish  hair style all my his life and he
probably had the same style years before  I was born. Both my brothers and me
went with long hair until just now. Hey,  come to dinner with my uncle and
me this weekend so I can show him my new  'look'." I shrug,  "I gotta check
with my boyfriend to see what our plans  are for this weekend." As I drop my
cigarette butt on the floor and step on it,  then kick it off the balcony,
he asks, "You need to get permission? What the  fuck's that all about?" I go,
"Oh come on! When you were going steady with that  girl, are you telling me
you didn't check with her to see what plans she might  have before
committing to something on the weekends?" He's like, "Yeah, I guess  I see what you
mean. Of course I sorta set our agenda, not her. How long have  you been
going with this guy? Rob, right?" I tell him, "Yeah, it's Rob. We've  been
together for three years now," and he goes, "You're kidding, right?" I  shake my
head, "No, we're in love, dude." He looks confused, "You're in love,  but
yet you screw around with other guys too. Really?" I say, "Yes, but you make
it sound like I'm being unfaithful or slutty. I don't fuck around with just
 anybody ya know, and Robby and me have this mature understanding. Our
relationship allows us both to mess around on the side as long as it's within
reason." He laughs, "Whatever works for you I guess, but that sounds, um, a
little fucked up." I'm like, "To you it might, but it works for us pretty
well."  He says, "Dude, I didn't know you and your boyfriend were together
three  years. I figured it was more  casual than that. Ha ha, I actually had
this idea that I had a chance to be your  boyfriend. Guess I gave myself too
much credit."


Leaving that time bomb alone, I go, "Um, you're  bisexual I know, but I
thought you leaned towards the girls mostly and I'm just  a fling you're having
on the rebound after breaking up with what's-her-name." He  rubs his head,
"I thought you'd be a hot sexy change of pace, yes. As it turns  out though
I've developed a big crush on you. I told you I've screwed with only  two
other guys and let me tell ya, they can't compare with you. I wasn't
expecting to get smitten by you, so to speak." I grin, "You're smitten by me?
What's that mean?" He shrugs, "It's a crush or infatuation with some one, in
this case you," and he grins at me, adding, "I think that's what it means
anyway." I smile at him, "Oh yeah? I mentioned to you very recently that we're
not going to let ourselves get involved, right? I wouldn't want you to think
I'm  leading you on." He goes, "Yeah, you told me that, but I didn't want
to believe  it. I usually have some luck with winning and getting my way in
romantic  situations." I'm still curious about his reaction to Robby and I
having  side-sex, I mean didn't he ever mess around on his girlfriend? Curious
as I am,  I probably shouldn't ask this, although I do, "Did you cheat on
your  girlfriend?" He laughs, "That would be yes, so who am I to tell you
your  relationship is fucked up? You're right. Okay, I get the picture, but I
wanna be one of the guys you mess around with, um, on the side?" I say, "Who
 better than you, Trace. You do know I'm flattered, right? I don't take it
lightly 'cause I really like you." He chuckles, "You're sweet, Dylan, but I
 still think you should wear a warning label like they put on some
medicines.  Maybe not on a necklace like I told you before, maybe a cool tattoo that
reads, Warning! I'm very addictive! Something like  that." I ask, "Are you
making fun of me?" and he says, "Nope, I'm making fun of  myself for having
a teeny-bopper's crush on you." Chuckling, I go, "I'm getting  a big head
listening to you." He gives my shoulders a hug, saying, "I haven't  given up
the battle. Maybe I'll shower you with expensive gifts and that will  turn
the tide my way." I say, "Please do not do that or you'll make me feel  like a
slutty whore instead of a buddy who likes having sex with you." He goes,
"Can I fuck you right here?" I'm like, "Here? I don't think so, but someplace
 else, yeah, for sure."

He rubs my head this  time, and then picks up my hand and puts it on his
head, as he mumbles, "Bobbsey  Twins, right, Dylan?" I rub his short hair, "It
feels cool, Trace," and he says,  "I think so too." I can't be sure when
Chubby or Robby might bop in our  apartment, so I suggest, "How about we visit
your place for a beer and see what  comes after that?" A hug around the
back of my neck by Tracy as he walks us  outside the apartment. I lock the door
as he's saying, "My place is an excellent  idea! We'll use my isolated
apartment and avoid unexpected embarrassing  encounters with your roommates."
We're carry our jackets, then put them on going  down the steps to the parking
lot with me thinking it's good we had this talk  about where we stand,
although I'm not sure Tracy got the message completely.  I'm serious about not
leading him on, but maybe that's what he thinks I'm doing  by continuing to
have sex with him. Some guys just can't grasp the concept of  buddy-sex. It's
not something I invented, fer chrissakes. Robby's and my  relationship
isn't the first open relationship in the world, and some people  have an open
relationship even after they're married. Of course it could be me
rationalizing all this, but I like Tracy even though I don't feel I would ever  fall in
love with him. I can't articulate even to myself why that is, but it's  why
this side-sex with him is basically only harmless sexy fun to me. After
saying that, if I didn't have Ryan and Robby in my life, would I then talk
myself into being in love with Tracy? You know, because I wanted a
relationship  and he'd be a excellent candidate to be in a relationship with. Could I
rationalize falling in love with him? I guess I could if I had no other love
in  my life to compare it to. I'd maybe think, Well this must be what love
is, even if it wasn't true love like I've found with Robby. I gotta  stop
this kind of thinking though because it just adds to the confusion I  already
have about life in general.


Tracy drives too fast  with me seat-belted in, and sort of holding on for
dear life. If Ryan and Tracy  could combine their chosen driving speeds and
cut it in half it'd be just right.  We go up the steps to his covered deck as
Tracy says, "Instead of a beer, how  about a shot of good whiskey first."
The speakeasy is closed on weekdays, but  sometimes opens during the day on
weekends. There's no fixed schedule so it's  best to call ahead. I ask, "What
is it with you and shots, Trace? I can't stand  shots of booze." He laughs,
"That's half my fun watching you drinking a shot in  three or four sips.
You just drag out your torture. Try throwing the whole thing  down your throat
all at once." We go into his apartment with me saying, "I know  that's how
it's suppose to be done, but I'm always afraid I'll hurl." In his  kitchen
he takes a cool-looking bottle off a shelf that has a number of  different
whiskey bottles on it, saying, "Lets see what you think of this  Canadian Club
Classic 12. Aged twelve years and it's very smooth." Grabbing two  clean
shot glasses from a line of them sitting upside down on a lower shelf,  Tracy
pours two shots of his latest so-called smooth whiskey. Picking up our  shot
glasses, Tracy taps mine with his, saying, "To my new haircut," and he
flashes his down his throat. I hesitate a second and then do the same. My
throat  has a slight burn, but my eyes aren't tearing-up and I don't think I'm
going to  throw-up, but I can't say it was especially pleasant either. I take
a deep  breath testing my condition, then say, "That wasn't so bad, Trace,
but please  don't pour another one for me."


He grins at me and pours  himself another one, then drinks it like he did
the first. "You don't think  that's a damn good whiskey, Dylan?" I say, "The
best endorsement I can give it  is, it isn't hideous." He laughs and gives
me a hug, then he rubs his face where  my neck meets my right shoulder, some
call this spot 'the crook of the neck,  saying, "You smell so good," then he
gives me a kiss on my lips, and adds,  "We're alone in my apartment, Dylan,
and you make me horny, so can we do it?" I  nod, "Sure, Tracy, I'd like
that." He says, "Lets take our shirts off so I can  feel your skin against
mine. And, forgive me, but I've gotta do our fast fuck  first, and then I
promise later today we can get in my bed naked and do it slow  and sexy any way
you wanna do it. Okay?" I wet my lips, "I'm kinda horny myself,  and your
plans for later this afternoon sound quite appealing to someone like  me, you
know, someone like me who enjoys sex as much as you do." We both take  our
shirts off as I'm telling him, "I'm horny like I said, and I'm not blowing
smoke up your ass when I say, you fuck good, Tracy." With him holding my face
between his hands he leans in and kisses me wetly with lots of tongue, his
head  moving and our noses rubbing together as my arms go around his bare
back and our  chests rub as we kiss like this for a minute or two. He slides
his lips off mine  dragging his tongue across my cheek, his curly soft beard
tickling my face  sexily. With the sides of our faces together and his arms
around the back  of my neck we both breathe deeply, our expanding chests
bumping, then he's back  at it again with his tongue sliding on mine and then
moving in my mouth as our  lips suck together.


We make out sexily for  two or three minutes more and now his sexy scent
has filled my head. Then we  gasp together, my boner achingly hard. Tracy
reaches between my legs squeezing  it, then unbuttons my pants and pull them
down to my knees. He's smirking at me  as he strokes my hard cock until a long
blob of precum drools out and I moan  clinging to him and humping my hips.
He licks my ear, then sticks his tongue in  it and strokes my cock a few more
times with more precum drooling down his fist  and me moaning, "Oooh, uum,
ooh, fuck me, Trace, fuck me." He kisses my cheek  and turns me around as
he's undoing his zipper. His left arm's around my chest  holding my back
against his chest and I immediately feel the wet head of his  cock on my butt
cheek moving as he rustles in his pocket looking for a condom.  His cock leaves
a trail of his precum as he seems to get frustrated he can't  find the
pocket with the condom, then the bare head of his cock is at my  asshole. Tracy
groans and humps the wet head in past my sphincter muscle as we  both moan,
"Aaaaah, oooh, fuccck." Lots of Tracy's moist breath on the back of  my head
with him breathing raggedly and his cock slowly and tightly spreads the
walls of my rectum as it goes in inch by inch. I want to bend over because it
goes in easier that way, but he's got both arms around me slowly moving his
hips  closer and closer to my ass with his hard cock making it's way up
inside me. I  gasp again and grimace at the pain, then moan at how good it
feels at the same  time. Tracy's head moves next to mine and he whispers in my
ear, "I'm sorry if  it's hurting a little, and I'm inside you without a
condom. I couldn't find my  condom and I don't have lubricant, so is it okay for
me to continue?." I knew my  idea of carry a tube of lube around with me was
a good one. I nod my head  slightly, hoping he knows I mean everything's
okay, it feels good with the  pain.


Slowly his boner goes up  my ass until his pubic hairs are tickling my
buttocks and then he's pressed  against me, my back tight against his chest and
my ass filled to overflowing  with his hard cock. "Aaaah," from Tracy, "Such
a sweet ass, Dylan. This is  magical, oh and thank you for the haircut."
That makes me laugh a little at the  inappropriate time he chose to say that.
I chuckle, saying, "You're welcome,"  and he laughs a bit, mumbling, "I can
be such a dork at times," and he humps  against my butt cheeks and swivels
his hips a little as I go, "Aaaah, fuuuck,  yeah." He kisses the side of my
head and begins pulling his boner back out  slowly setting off awesome
vibrations inside me, all of them of a pleasurable  nature. My prostate buzzes a
little and my cock tightens further. Tracy's  considerately taking it slow at
first, pushing his cock up my ass this second  time too, waiting until the
hurt fades. I moan quietly at how wonderful it feels  having my rectum
filled with Tracy's good sized hard cock. He withdraws it a  little more quickly
this time and pushes it back in at the same speed and we  both shudder a
little while making a whooshing sound drawing in air through  closed lips.
Tracy adjust his hold on me, one arm around the front of my neck  like he does
and the other around my chest holding me tightly against him. The  side of
his face is next to my ear when he whispers, "Here we go," and  begins moving
his hips back and forward smoothly and steadily and the sensations  really
come to life in my ass now. My anus lips hug the shaft of his steadily
moving hard cock and they're sizzling with sexual pleasure as my prostate is a
steady drumbeat of pleasure that quickly has me squirming in Tracy's arms,
but  he's strong and he wants me against him so only his hips move as he's
picking up  speed. Oh it feels so good as my head goes back on his shoulder and
I close my  eyes to revel in how incredible it feels being fucked in the
ass. His cock is  out through his zipper so no slap slap sounds because his
jeans muffle that  normal sound of male fucking. My grunts and moans of sexual
pleasure are the  prominent sounds we hear accompanied by Tracy's grunts at
the sensations coming  off his erect penis.


During the next four or  five minutes nothing exist in the universe except
this intense sexual pleasure  I'm feeling as I'm deliciously struggling and
squirming in Tracy's strong arms  and against his hot tight body with his
sexy scent in my head and his short  curly beard rubbing the side of my face.
Ecstasy as I shudder and moan at each  thrust of his hard cock up my ass,
"Aaah, aah, aah, ooh Trace, aah ooh, umm,  uum, yeah, ump, ooh." The back of
my head moving on his shoulder, the sides of  our heads rubbing together, his
scent's in my head and it's all I smell with our  mutual sweat between my
back and his chest and stomach making it seem extra  slippery and sexy. Tracy
begins making oddly desperate whining sounds as he  further increases the
speed of his thrusting and I start humping my ass back  into his thrust until
we're almost out of control slamming into one another  moaning and
groaning, "Fuuuuk, yeaaah." And then my world stops for an instance  as the
overwhelming sensation of climax has me shaking with anticipation and  than
squealing like I do, and I  arch my back clenching every muscle in my body, then one
last gasping inhale  before an involuntary hump of my hips and cum streams
out of my boner in a big  arc landing on the kitchen table near the shot
glasses. I'm shaking and unable  to even squeal as I hump out three quick
follow up shots of spunk shooting out  leaving my quivering boner and me dizzy
with pleasure, then limp in Tracy's  arms as he pounds his cock up my ass
frantically while doing ragged breathing  and then a loud, "Oooh, oooh," and I
feel his cum flooding my bowels making me  shudder again as I stroke my cock.
Oh, it feels so good! He keeps pounding his  cock in my sloppy ass with the
cum drooling out even as he shoots more inside  me. Another minute of
thrusting with Tracy sort of hanging onto me now, his  forehead on my shoulder,
him making quiet, "Mmmm, mmm, mmm," sounds until he  stops completely. We're
still as a statue for a minute or so, me feeling his cum  running down the
back of my legs.


I'm doing slow deep  breathing listening to my heart beat and feeling
Tracy's heart beating against  my back. A moan, "Ooooooh, god," from Tracy, then
some lazy thrust up my ass  followed by one last tight hug before he lets go
of me and pulls his cock from  my ass. He backs up against the kitchen
counter as I stare at my cum on the  table, then mumble, "Wouldn't it have been
awesome if my spunk shot an inch to  the left and filled up my shot glass?"
Tracy chuckles as I turn around and lean  against him, chest to chest, my
arms around him and my forehead on his shoulder.  He casually rubs my head
with one hand and my back with the other, murmuring,  "It's so sexually hot
fucking you Dylan, I can't even describe how much I love  doing it with you."
He chuckles, then ask, "What have you done to me?" and he  chuckles again,
saying, "You've ruined me for girls, that's what. And I'll never  find another
guy like you, that'd be impossible." All I can do is smile and  savor his
compliments. Nobody compliments me as much as Tracy. It's probably the  same
line he tells his girlfriends, but I'll pretend he only says it to me. More
murmuring from Tracy, "And I fucked you without a condom this time, and now
 it'll never be the same fucking with a condom. You've put some kind of
spell on  me, some kind of sexy spell," and he gives me a hug then and a long
kiss on the  side of my head. It's nice. I can't imagine it being better in
bed with him  later than this was, but that's because right now I'm enjoying
the glow of my  recent orgasm and feeling sexually satisfied. Who knows how
much that will  change in two or three hours. Tracy puts his hands on my
shoulders and pushes me  away a little, quietly saying, "I'll help clean your
ass up for you, but first,"  and he turns me around gently and slides his
cock, that's still just firm  enough, up my ass as we both go, "Aaaaah." My
prostate and anus are  incredibly sensitized and his cock's reentry brings all
the wonderful sensations  back to life. Two minutes of thrusting pleasure
with my cock trying to get hard  again, but Tracy pulls his cock out too soon,
muttering, "Can't get enough of  that ass of yours." My shoulders shudder
again as I bite my bottom lip  concentrating on how awesome it feels having a
cock filling my rectum. Tracy  says, "Come on Dylan," and with his arm
across my shoulders we walk through the  kitchen into a half bath, the one used
by the guest of his speakeasy for  emergency pissing.


Inside he gets a  washcloth and wets it, then wipes his cum off the back of
my legs and buttocks  and under my ass to the back of my scrotum, "Dylan,
the shape of your cute pink  ass, it's like so fucking hot." I'm feeling
really good and I don't want to  talk, but I mumble, "Yes, I know, everyone says
that," and he laughs a nice  laugh as he pats my ass and pulls up my pants.
Tracy laughs easily and he's very  good company. We're both spaying Windex
on the kitchen table now chuckling about  how close my spunk landed near in
the empty shot glass. When we've cleaned up all the spunk, Tracy says,
"That  would have been my favorite shot of all time, Dylan. That's if I could
beat you  to it," and he laughs patting me on the back. I tell him, "Jeez,
I've never  sampled my own semen," and he grins, mumbling, "Liar." I grin back
and we do a  quick kiss. Tracy says, "God, to think I could have had all
this fun with you if  I'd proposition you last year. I would have taken you
with me to Paris and  London last summer instead of that pain in the ass,
Sheila." I listen to his  self deprecating remarks and his compliments to me and
I confess to enjoying  hearing them even though it's probably what he tells
whoever he's having sex  with. That's unfair of me since I've no way to
verify the validity of my  assumption, so like I often do, I ask a stupid
question," Do you say all these  same things to whoever you're currently involved
with?" He thinks for a second,  then says, "I can honestly tell you that at
least forty-seven percent of what I  tell you is new stuff I'm inspired to
say because of how awesome and rare you  are. The rest is more applicable to
you than anyone else I'm fucking although I  might say it to them to be
nice. Everything I tell you is truthfully how I feel  about you no matter if I
said it to others or not, so will you marry me?" We  both laugh, then I say,
"Where's the ring? You can't propose without a fucking  engagement ring. All
my other marriage proposals included an expensive ring I  get to keep when
we break-up." He chuckles and goes to say something, but his  cell phone
rings interrupting our silliness.


Grinning at me he  answers his cellphone and then stops grinning to say,
"What? Tell me again  slower, please!" He listens, then mumbles, "Fuck no, are
you sure?" Pause,  and then, "Have you seen him? When was the last time you
checked?" He  listens and says, "It'll take me three hours," pause, "Yes,
right now, and  thanks for telling me, Peter." He ends the call and stares
out the window. After  a few seconds I ask, "What is it, Tracy?" He looks at
me like he's surprised I'm  here. There are tears in his eyes as he says,
"That was, Peter, a good friend of  mine. He's a kid I grew up with and he just
told me my youngest brother is in a  coma. He, um, just collapsed coming
home from school and they don't know why.  He's in intensive care and I'm
driving home right now to see him. I'm sorry, but  I gotta put some stuff
together and leave right away. I'll drop you off at your  apartment on my way to
the Mass Pike." His phone rings again, so he looks at it,  mumbling, "Dad,"
and answers, then says, "I know, Peter called me." Pause, and  then, "I'm
leaving in ten minutes. I love you too, see you soon." I'm mumbling,  "I'm so
sorry, Trace," and touch his shoulder. He sort of falls against me for a  hug
and I feel him shaking as he silently cries. Then he lets go of me, wiping
at his eyes, saying, "I'm not some pussy. I gotta pull myself together." I
follow him into his bedroom and as he recklessly tosses some change of
clothes  and toiletry item on the bed. I put them neatly in a nice leather
overnight  satchel, and then we're going down the steps with him asking
rhetorically, "What  might it be? Why would Richie just collapse on the street?" I
feel so bad for  him, I ask, "Would you like me to keep you company during the
drive home, or  even drive you if you don't feel like driving?" At his car
he tosses the  satchel in the back seat, saying, "You're so nice, Dylan, but
I don't know how  long I'll be home. I'll be there at least long enough for
me to hear Richie  talking to me and I know he'll be alright. We're very
close. I'd take him to  kindergarten each morning on my way to middle school.
He always  gave me a hug and a kiss goodbye. I love that kid like my life,"
and he's crying  silently again.


I can't think of  anything appropriate to say during the eight to ten
minute drive to my apartment  complex. I insist he drop me off at the entrance
and not take the time to drive  around the complex. As I get out, I say,
"Tracy, please drive sanely. Getting  pulled over for speeding won't get you
there quicker. Call Peter or your dad for  updates because maybe Richie will
come out of his coma as abruptly as he went  into it. Please be careful." He
says, "Good advise, Dylan, thank you. I'll call  you when I find out, okay?" I
nod, "Please do, and be safe!" His tires squeal as  he pulls away. He
drives too fast when he's not in a hurry so I'm worried how  he'll drive now that
he is in a hurry. That's why I offered to drive him. Fuck!  Unexpected
nasty stuff is just around the corner for all of us and something  always goes
wrong. Tracy's such a good person and seeing him cry like that  almost got me
doing the same. And that's even though, of course, I  don't know his
brother, Richie. I cry whenever I see another guy cry. It's like  if I see someone
yawn, I yawn too. Can't help it. As I walk slowly up the  entrance road I'm
unconsciously smelling the back of my wrist, but pull my arm  away as soon
as I realize I'm doing that. That's another thing I can't stop  doing.
Fucking habits! But, huh, Tracy took his little brother, Richie, to  kindergarten
every day on his way to middle school... that so fucking  sweet.  It's easy
to forget that everyone of us was a baby one time, then a  toddler, then
kindergarten and so on. It's kinda weird when you think about it.  Checking
out some big ugly mean-looking oaf you pass on the street it's almost
impossible to picture that guy in kindergarten as a tiny little innocent  boy. Not
easy to picture some people as kindergartners, that's fer  sure.

Tracy's reaction was so  openly expressive and so honestly real. No false
bravado or jokes, he sincerely  cares deeply about and loves his brother.
It's something I can relate to  completely. Chubby and I went to kindergarten
together and we used to kiss  and hug each other all the time. In
kindergarten I mean. Chubby as a  kindergartner, ha ha, that's a cute thought. It only
cheers me up momentarily  though because I'm sincerely worried Tracy will
drive stupidly fast even though  there's nothing he can do to help his brother
when he gets there. I wonder what  Richie looks like? He's gotta be cute if
he's Tracy's brother because Tracy is  very good looking and very cool.
Richie probably looked up to his big brother,  Tracy, all his life. Gee, I
wonder what they'll think of Tracy's radical haircut  change?


Trudging around to the  back of our building finally, and keying the code
in the back door, I go up the  steps and down to the second door hearing 'The
Counting Crows' CD playing  inside. I figure Robby's home. The door's
unlocked so I go in and there's my  boyfriend sitting at the kitchen counter
eating a dish of ice cream. He turns  around and gives the special grin so I go
over and put my arm around the back of  his neck and kiss him on his
strawberry lips. He kisses back offering me a  spoonful of his strawberry ice cream
which I suck off his spoon and kiss him  again. "Thanks, Rob. It's so nice
to see you," and I give him a hug because it  is nice to see him. He goes,
"Hi, baby, where ya been." I say, "Tracy called me  and I kept him company on
a trip into Boston to see his uncle." I tell him about  the Boston trip,
about me giving Tracy the burr haircut, and then Tracy hearing  about his
little brother being in a coma for reasons unknown. In between telling  him the
story he shares his dish of ice cream with me. The ice cream is good but
sharing the same spoon is the best part. I don't feel guilty about having sex
with Tracy and it actually makes me more amorous towards Robby somehow. I
like  hugging him and sharing kisses and spoons of ice cream with him.
Robby's sorry  about Tracy's little brother and then he tells me about baseball
practice and  how Danny sprained his ankle on the first base bag running out
an infield single  during an inter-squad game. Robby, finished the ice cream
is putting the bowl in  the dishwasher, saying, "I want to take you and
Danny out to dinner tonight,  Dylan. I've had a shower and maybe you should take
one and then we'll pick up  Danny." Oh, I loved that he basically told me
to take a shower. He does 'bossy'  sometimes without even realizing it
anymore. I love that, so I say, "Right away,  Rob," give him another hug, and we
do a long kiss as Robby's rubbing his hand up  the back of my head. Breaking
the kiss, he says, "Dylan, I love you so much it's  hurts my heart. Tonight
I want us to have lovers sex all night long and  tomorrows Tuesday so we
have a later first class so I'm gonna fuck you in the  morning too. Whaddaya
think about that?." I'm nodding my head, grinning, "You  know me, Rob, I can
never have enough sex with you." He says, "You're awesome,"  and then as I'm
walking down towards our bedroom he calls after me, "Have Ryan  give you a
haircut, or I will if you want, okay?" That gets my dick feeling  good. God,
at times like this I love my life!


After a nice hot shower  I dry off and get ready to go out to dinner by
putting on my coolest clothes and  accessories. Can't let Danny outshine me.
He's a cute sexy lad himself. When I  think about it rationally, I gotta admit
that Danny's a perfect side-sex partner  for my Robby. He's cute like I
said, with a sexy hot body, he's on the baseball  team so they have a lot in

common, and he's a damn nice guy. Back in the living room Robby says,
"Come on out on the balcony for a smoke." I follow him out and he holds out his
pack of Marlboro Lights for me. Then he lights both our cigarettes and
says,  "Um, tonight I wonder if you'd do me a favor and convince Danny you don't
mind  if he works on my crew with you this summer. He's all fucked up about
his mom  and dad divorcing, but he's worried you won't like it if he works
with us this  summer. His mom called him on his way back to college and she
was sobbing about  how bad she feels that he is going through this. It'd
lift his spirits if  he knew what he'll be doing this summer." I say, "Of
course I will, Rob, I feel  bad for him too." Robby gives me a one arm hug, then
a quick kiss, "Thank you,  babe. I knew you'd be supportive." I say, "Not
just for Danny, but mostly I'd do  it for you." Then I feel that funny weepy
feeling I've been sensing when I'm  around Robby lately, so I get a little
emotional, mumbling, "Um, I'd do anything  for you, Rob." He hugs me asking,
"What's wrong, Dylan?" I go, "Nothing, I just  love you so much, that's all.
I get emotional about it." Another kiss from  Robby, "You know I feel the
same way about you, babe."


As we smoke Robby's  telling me about his hitting this year and how the
coach has him standing up in  the batter's box, and blah, blah, blah. I'm
nodding like I'm listening, but at  the same time I'm trying to understand the
weepy moments I feel around Robby  lately, not always but once in a while. I'm
afraid it might be because I've  fallen in love with Ryan, which of course
seems disloyal to Robby, except I'm  still in love with him as much as ever.
Maybe that's not possible though, and  maybe I'm afraid if my feeling of
love for Ryan keeps growing it could put  Robby's and my true love
relationship in jeopardy. A truly frightening thought.  I don't know how it happened,
but I've always, had this incredible sexual heat  for Ryan and if that's
coupled with feelings of true love too... well then I'm  in trouble. It's not
like you can tell yourself you love someone or you'll stop  loving someone...
it doesn't work like that. You can't turn love on and off. Oh  fuck, Robby
just asked me a question that I didn't exactly hear, and now he's  looking at
me with a questioning expression on his face. I go, "Um, whaddaya  mean?"
He says, "Either way is fine, Dylan, it's your choice," and I think he  said
something about a haircut. Taking a chance I go, "You or Ryan, huh?" He
nods and I say, "I guess, Ryan, but if you wanna do it that's okay too." He
goes, "I just wondered because you didn't say anything when I said you need a
haircut." I grin, "Oh, I didn't know it was a question. You tell me to get
a  haircut and I tell Ryan when I see him. You're the boss, Rob." He grins,
"That's  because you want me to be the boss." I go, "Sure. Um, Ryan won't be
back until  probably ten or ten-thirty tonight though." Robby rubs my head,
"Tomorrow's  fine, Dylan, jeez. I like my boyfriend looking sharp so
everyone's jealous of  me." I ask, "You don't mind that Ryan's been doing my
haircuts?" Robby rubs my  head again, "Nope, I like the way he cuts your hair.
You look sexy-hot to me  with short hair. I told you that before, remember?"
My dick is getting hard so I  pull his ponytail and murmur, "I can't wait to
get in bed with you tonight, Rob.  You've got me wicked horny for you." He
grins and gently squeezes my stiffening  cock, "I can tell, and it makes me
horny that I get you horny." Then his cell  phone rings.


Robby looks at the  caller ID and mutters, "What a coincidence, it's Ryan,"
then, "Hi, buddy,  wassup?" and they have a little conversation with Robby
telling him we were just  talking about him. He tells him I need a haircut
and Ryan says something that  makes Robby laugh. Then he ends with, "Yeah,
see you tomorrow, babe." Two things  caught my attention: one, why the fuck
didn't Ryan call me. And, two, since when  does Robby call anyone 'babe', but
me? What the fuck?" I step on my cigarette  pretending I don't care what
they talked about. Robby says, "He's at the Atlanta  airport. You're right he
figures he'll be in his dorm about ten-thirty. I told  him he's missing a
dinner at Burton's tonight, not that he couldn't afford to go  there anytime he
wanted too." I nod, "Oh, huh," and he grins at me, asking,  "Ready to go?"
I nod my head, then tell myself to loose the pout! As we go  inside, I say,
"Oh, I didn't know we were going to Burtons, big spender." Robby  shrugs, "I
don't treat you enough, Dylan. You being my true boyfriend and  partner for
life, and all." I say, "That's because you're cheap, Rob," and he  laughs,
"I am not!" and he squeezes the back of my neck giving me sexy chills.  As
we put our coats on, I go, "Okay then you're not cheap, so when we're married
 and I'm home with our baby don't forget to treat me to a box of Godiva
dark  chocolates once in awhile." He smiles, "Oh, you still  like my dream for
us!" I say, "Of course I do! I'm just following your lead as  the future
head of our household. You said it was too soon for us to be engaged  and I
agree, but I haven't forgotten our dream." Robby's excited, "I knew I was
right about all that. I should never have been influenced by Dodger and Chubby."
 I go, "No, they were right that we're too young for it now, but the dream
still  sparkles in my head." He looks so happy as we go down the stairs hand
in hand.  He wouldn't think of holding my hand a few months ago. The
pickup's close by the  back door of course, and as we get in he says, "Nobody can
brighten my day like  you, baby." As I'm putting my seatbelt on he leans
over and kisses me, "Thanks  for bringing our dream out of storage so we could
polish it a bit. We'll put it  away for now, but some day, huh, Dylan?" I
so, Yep, some  day."


We pick up a limping  Danny. I slide to the middle of the bench seat and he
gets in. Then, to my  surprise, Danny gives me a peck on my lips, then
Robby and him lean over and  kiss on the lips right in front of me. This is
Robby's doing. He did the same  thing for our threesome having us kiss 'hello'
and 'goodbye'. I like it and wish  I was expecting Danny's kiss so I could
have kissed him back. Danny says, "Hiya,  Dylan. Damn you look good, as
always. You should let your hair grow like Rob's  though. He told me you two have
identical hair coloring. like two tone blond.  You're both lucky." I say,
"Oh, yeah, that's true, but Rob likes me with short  hair, don'cha Rob?" He
goes, "Yeah, you're sexy hot with that haircut. Of course  you're sexy hot
without it too... ha ha." That shuts Danny up, but not for long.  He asks ,
"Did Rob tell you I suggested he stand further up in the batters  box? He tried
it today and he was hitting line drives to all fields." Robby  goes, "Well,
um, yeah Danny suggested it, but I asked the hitting coach before I
changed my batting stance and he told me to go ahead and try it." Which isn't
exactly what he told me twenty minutes ago. Burton's restaurant is only five
minutes from the campus and it's always crowded, plus they have a small
parking  lot. Ha ha, I get a kick outta hearing Robby bitching about not finding
a good  parking spot. Welcome to my world 'cause I can never find one. Robby
finally  needs to park in a lot below the restaurant. As we trudge up the
hill to  Burton's with Danny hobbling and leaning on Robby, Robby's still
fuming and  muttering about the lack of parking. I've got a grin on my face
listening to  him. Danny keeps looking over at me smiling and making nice. I
like  him.

Inside the restaurant we  discover the reservation Robby made doesn't carry
much weight. The lady at the  front desk tells us, "We're extremely busy
tonight. Sorry boys, but it'll be ten  minutes or so." No shit, you're busy,
huh? Burton's is always busy. Here's an  idea... don't take reservations if
you can't keep 'em! We don't say that of  course. Instead we frown at the
receptionist, like she gives a shit, and then we  wait and watch people without
reservations get seated before us. A Merrimack  student last year worked
here as a busboy part time and he told me they  alternate seating between
'walk-ins' and those with reservations. Stupid policy,  but it hasn't hurt their
business apparently and we still come, so maybe we're  the stupid ones.
Anyway, in ten minutes we get seated and a lady waitress is  immediately
hovering around our table for our drink orders. We all order iced  tea and then
look at the menus. I hear Danny take a deep breath, then say,  "Dylan, um,
there's no way I'd ever come between you and Rob. You know that,  right?" I
shrug, like how the fuck could I know that? And he goes, "I just  wanted to get
that out of the way first. And, um, I'm hoping it's okay with you  if I
work with you on Rob's crew this summer. I'd rather not go into why I need  to
be away from home most of the coming summer, but it's kinda important that I
 am. So whaddya think, would it bother you?" I ask, "Why ask me, Danny?
It's up  to him," and I nod at Robby. Danny licks his lip, then says, "Um, Rob
says it's  up to you." Well, what the fuck? What am I supposed to say... go
fuck  yourself, Danny. I say, "Oh yeah? Well why do you need to be away from
home,  Danny?" Robby gives me a stern 'look' as Danny fiddles with his
cloth napkin,  then says, "It's kinda personal, but my parents are going through
a divorce and  they're still living together in our house. It's really
awkward for me being  there, ya know? Actually it's more complicated than that,
but I don't want to go  into any more details. You've got to give your okay
though, and the three of us  get along great so I hope you'll say it's
okay." I go, "I already told Rob it's  okay." Robby nods his head like I'm a good
boy, and Danny mumbles, "Thanks. Um,  I needed to hear you say it."


We go back to looking at  the menus. It really is okay with me, but I don't
like being put on the spot  like that. Robby should have told me that's
what this dinner's all about. Oh  fuck, he actually did infer it was I guess.
I'm basically okay with it, but I  know goddamned well that those two are
gonna be fucking all summer. I glance at  them exchanging 'looks' with grins on
their faces. It's okay, and they'll both  be in the summer baseball league
too like Robby and Ryan were last summer. Oh  well, Robby's had to share me
with others at times so I guess if he's able to  tolerate it I can too.
Robby's all smiles as he asks me, "What are you going to  get, Dylan?" I go,
"The surf and turf, Rob." He's eyebrows go up because he's  pretty tight with a
buck and the surf and turf is the most expensive item on the  menu, which
is of course why I'm getting it. I add, "And the crab appetizer, I  think,"
which is the most expensive appetizer too." He bites his bottom lip,  then
blurts out a laugh, mumbling, "You're awesome," and then he laughs out loud
because he knows me. I chuckle as Danny goes, "What? What's funny?" I say,
"I'm  ordering the most expensive items on the menu and Rob's cheap." Danny
grins,  "Yeah, I think that's why I'll order that too," and we both look at
Robby who's  shaking his head grinning. I say, "And it's gonna be this way all
summer too,  Rob. Plus I'll probably be messin' around with Danny on the
back of the truck  while you're driving us to the different jobs." Robby
laughs, muttering, "Oh  fuck, I'm fucked." Danny and I grin at each other, then
do a 'low five' with  Danny holding onto my hand for second after we slap
palms. We exchange smirks  and I'm thinking, 'He's a hottie, fer sure.'


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


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