Date: Thu, 25 Jun 2015 13:26:19 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR Chapter  76

DYLAN'S  SOPHOMORE YEAR


Chapter  76


by  Donny Mumford



Robby left a half hour ago to prepare for the team's last baseball game  of
the season. He had a fever last night but I knew that wouldn't keep him
from  playing. I'm definitely gonna be one of the spectators in the bleachers
watching  the game, mostly spectating the second baseman... heh heh. That's
what I did in  high school before I even knew Robby. He was so cute, sexy, and
popular at the  time I was intimidated by him. I finally forced myself to
speak to him late in  our junior year though, and we were off and running
after that. Robby was very  shy back then, although he's outgrown most of his
shyness the past couple of  years. Twenty minutes after Robby left, Chubby and
I had a quick hug and a kiss,  then he was off and running too, late for
his last review class of the year.  Everything's winding-down for our
sophomore year with summer break enticingly  just around the corner. Presently I'm
alone in the apartment waiting for Ryan,  who I expect any minute now. This
morning he's giving me the haircuts I've been  arguing against since coming
back from spring break. I thought for once it'd be  nice to have a hair style
I could at least comb. Willie started the short  haircut trend for me the
two years we were boyfriends. During his more dominant  days Willie would
take me to the barbershop like I was a little boy and tell the  barber the kind
of haircut he wanted me to have. Those days probably ignited the  flame of
my current haircut fetish. Nowadays Ryan's eliminated the middle man  and he
gives me the short haircuts himself. Sometime during spring break I got
the idea that a longer hair style would be a nice change. Well, Ryan disagrees
 with that so we've been arguing back and forth about it since then.
Ironically  the haircut Ryan's been doing for me is one that's gaining in
popularity,  although that's just a coincidence. Ryan isn't current on hair styles,
he only  cares that my haircut's wicked short, claiming the haircut will be
a reminder  for me that he's the boss. Fuck, I don't need a reminder of
that; it was my idea  that he be the boss in the first place. Okay, so the
intriguing aspect of the  situation is this: I've had short hair styles for years
now, so I ask myself...  why have I chosen this particular haircut to take
a stand on? Why not go along  with what Ryan has in mind at least during the
time I'll be in  Georgia?

Hmmm, good question, but  I have a possible answer. Could it be I'm testing
Ryan? You know, to see if I  can get my own way with him like I mostly do
with Chubby and Robby. Am I that  devious? No, not consciously I'm not, but
maybe subconsciously I am. That's the  conclusion I've come to while I'm
lining-up barbering tools on the kitchen bar.  Seeing the barber clippers makes
me smile remembering how much fun it was  cutting flat tops for Robby and
Danny yesterday. Heh heh, I wonder what their  teammates had to say about the
new 'look' those two are rocking' today. Robby  especially because he went
from a ponytail to a flat top... quite a significant  change. I admire Robby
for having the balls to do what he wants without caring  all that much what
others thinks about it. Then a knock at the door interrupts  my musings, and
it's Ryan of course. He's all business this morning. We  have a quick kiss
'good morning', then he smiles and nods this head at the  bar where I've
laid out everything for him like he told me to do. He starts over  to the bar,
but I get my arm around the back of his neck for another hug and  another
whiff of his sexy scent. He pats my back, saying, "Okay, I love you too,
Dylan, but I want to get this haircut over with and finally put an end to all
your bickering about it." I'm like innocent, "Bickering, what bickering?" He
goes, "You know what I'm talking about. You need to accept that this is the
 haircut you'll be getting every two weeks as part of our objective this
summer.  We're getting a head start on our summer routine now, that's all this
is." I let  go of him, "Okay, boss, you win. No more complaining from me."
He mumbles,  "Thank you for finally getting with the program." As we're
walking to the  bathroom for my shampoo, I ask, "Why so grumpy this morning,
Ryan?" He shrugs,  "Sorry, I don't mean to be grumpy. I guess it's because I
was expecting more  nagging from you, or at least some pouting about the
haircut, and that upsets  me. I don't like causing you to be unhappy, but we both
agreed to a plan and I'm  trying to stick with it." Grinning at him, I go,
"Oh good, I like it when you  get stern. You da man, Ryan." He laughs,
mumbling, "Jesus, you're  unpredictable." Inside the bedroom he points at the
bathroom, jokingly  pretending to be really stern, "Dylan, get your cute ass in
there and sit the  fuck down on that chair!" I do an exaggerated scamper
into the bathroom taking  my sweatshirt off as I go. Sitting in the chair I'm
smirking at Ryan like I  expect him to say, 'good boy'.


I'm in an especially good mood this morning because I'm finally over the
concussion stuff, and feeling normal again. Plus, my balls are getting
excited  'cause I'm about to get the extra short haircut I've been complaining
about.  Haircuts are sexually arousing to me, especially short ones, which begs
the  question even more: why have I been arguing against this particular
haircut?  Ryan follows me into the bathroom, saying, "You're like a little kid
at times,  Dylan." Sitting in the chair in front of the sink, I mumble,
"That's because  I've got the Peter Pan syndrome." Ryan puts a folded hand
towel on the edge of  the sink for my neck to rest on, then tilts the chair back
against the sink.  Patting my shoulder, he mumbles, "I don't even want to
know what a Peter Pan  thingie is." I go, "He never wants to grow up," and
Ryan goes, "That's exactly  what we want to change this summer." Huh! Then,
like he tends to do  everything, Ryan does the shampoo too fast. I still
enjoyed it, but he  didn't even think to sneak in a few kisses for his customer
like I do. As I  said, it's all business with Ryan this morning. Oh well, the
 poor boy doesn't have a haircut fetish like moi, so he just wants to get
it over  with. Of course it doesn't take long to dry my short hair and all
too soon Ryan  mumbles, "We're done in here, Dylan. If you'll follow me to the
 kitchen we'll get this haircut out of the way in short order." He had to
sneak  the word 'short' in there.


Walking down the hall, I asks, "Hey,  didn't you used to like giving me
haircuts? You act like it's an annoying pain  in the ass now." He says, "I like
giving you haircuts very much, Dylan. I like  doing anything with you, but
you've been nagging me about this haircut... that's  the pain in the ass
part." I shrug, "Yeah, but during spring break I decided I  wanted to let my
hair grow. You know, so I could at least comb it. I thought  maybe..." He
smiles, "I know what you thought. You thought I'd roll over, ignoring  our plan,
and let you have your way like everybody else does." I'm like, "No,  that's
not it at all! And anyway everyone does not let me have my  own way. You've
exaggerated and distorted that premise into something  unrecognizable." He's
like, "Okay, okay, lets not argue. You keep saying you  have it bad for me
and I'm thrilled you do, so why are you giving me a hard time  about this.
We're trying this program together, for your benefit, not mine.  Right? You
want me to be the one in charge so it's my responsibility to make  decision
about certain things and one of those things is your haircut. Maybe  it's
silly and pointless, but lets try it and see if you can tolerate not always
getting your own way." Sitting on the stool, I go, "I already said I'm fine
with  it. I'm just pointing out that it doesn't seem to me you're as into me as
you  used to be, that's all." He's exasperated, slowly saying, "You're the
one  distorting the facts and shifting the focus from your bickering about
the  haircut to me not being as 'into you' as I used to be. Believe me, no
one could  be more 'into you', as you put it, than I am, Dylan. It's just that
we're doing  this thing where I'm the boss and that means me saying, 'no'
to you sometimes. I  guess you interpret that as me not being madly in love
with you, when you know  damn well that I am." I go, "Good to hear, but still...
." He puts his finger on my  lips, going, "Shhh."


In the living room Ryan says, "Will you please sit on the stool now so we
can do this and put it behind us." I'm like, "Not to be a contrarian, but I
think what I said a minute ago highlighted that one thing does have
something to  do with the other." He shakes his head slowly, saying, "I'll probably
sound like  a pompous ass for saying this, but I think you need to grow-up
a little, Dylan.  You've been acting like a spoiled child who's being
stubborn about eating  his vegetables. Um, act a little closer to your age and
stop all this childish  bickering." I go, "Of all the fucking nerve! I like
some vegetables," but I say  it with a laugh in my voice because I even agree I
need to grow the fuck up a  little. Not to some stuffy degree, but I need
to take some things a little more  seriously than I'm currently doing. I'm
not a teenager anymore although I wish I  were, which is probably part of my
problem. I slide onto the stool as Ryan's  fiddling around with the barber
tools, rearranging them, saying, "Ya know,  everyone loves you, Dylan, but
they also spoil you with compliments happily  letting you have your own way."
He picks up the bad boy Oster clippers, as I  tell him in a more serious way,
"Saying that doesn't make you a pompous ass so  much as it makes you
someone who doesn't know what the fuck they're talking  about; no offense
intended. Everyone does not love me and aside from Robby and  my brother I challenge
you to give me the name of one other guy who gives a shit  what I want or
don't want."


Ryan does a long exhale, then says, "Me for one, but okay, I exaggerated
although the combination of Robby and Jeff loving you and letting you have
whatever you want is enough right there to validate my premise." I mutter,
"Validate? What kind of fucked-up word is that?" Ryan rubs the palm of his
hand  down his face like he's frustrated. He doesn't say anything for a few
seconds.  I'm looking at him wondering what his problem is? Taking a deep
breath, he goes,  "Lets drop the subject. We can't agree, and that's okay. Now,
would you please  not say anything else until I'm done with your haircut?
Please!" I shrug, "Ryan,  I'm in a damn good mood this morning because I'm
over my concussion, and also  because after the ball game I'll be going home
for a few days. So I'm feeling  good about getting away and seeing my mom and
maybe some old friends back home.  The thing is, dude, you're sorta raining
on my parade a little. You're bringing  me down, so can't you get in a good
mood for me?" He's shaking his head slowly,  but then grins, and mumbles,
"You're incorrigible. Okay, I guess you can't be  quiet while I do your
haircut. Silly me for asking you to do that." He gives me  a big smile now, then
says, "See my smile, I'm happy too. Okay? Now can I do  your haircut?" I go,
"Sure. I'm curious why you haven't started it yet. And  don't forget you
first need to give me a kiss like ya mean it." He puts the  clippers down,
takes a deep breath, then mumbles, "Oh, I mean it alright."  Lifting my head
with a finger under my chin, he says, "Don't you realize you're  my fantasy
come true, Dylan. I've told you that before although I don't think  you believe
me. Take my word for this, I always mean it when I kiss you." He  gives me
a long wet sexy kiss as I wrap my arms around the back of his neck. Our
faces slide together and his Ryan-scent fills my head. His tongue has the
absolutely perfect texture and it tastes delicious. Ryan breaks the kiss and
does that lick up the front of my nose, leaving saliva there. I gasp and grab
my  junk forgetting everything we've been talking about. Ryan takes hold of
my wrist  pulling my hand away from my crotch as he steps back and we both
look at the  tent in my sweatpants. Still holding my wrist and grinning, Ryan
points at my  lap, saying, "I just wanted to see if you shot off in your
pants again." That  makes me blush, which surprises me.


Smelling the back of my hand and hunching my shoulders at an unexpected
submissive feeling that's now sliding over me. I don't know why except maybe
when Ryan pulled my hand away from my crotch, then looked right at the pup
tent  in my lap, it got translated in my brain as me being thirteen years old
again  getting caught jerking off by my dad.  That could be why I blushed
and  experienced this submissive sense, not that I had a dad to catch me
jerking  off. Ryan's unaware of all this of course, as he says, "There's your
kiss with  meaning, Dylan, now please let me concentrate on your haircut.
Don't say  anything until I'm done, okay? It won't take long." Oh god, my cock
feels so  good, but huh? What was that he just said? I didn't catch it, but I
mumble,  "Okay, Ryan," anyway. He smiles and picks up the clippers again,
turning them on  this time. Just the sound of barber clippers can get my dick
tightening up.  That's my haircut fetish coming alive. With his left hand
on top of my head,  Ryan pushes my head towards my left shoulder and holds it
there as he too  quickly runs the clippers from my sideburn up the right
side of my head further  than he should have and a shower of hair clippings
scatter down onto my right  shoulder with some sliding down my chest and
others down my back. My fetish  grows stronger now and my dick gets even harder.
In my brain the image of Ryan  too quickly using bare clippers cutting my
hair very short has my fetish  sizzling with sexual arousal. Keeping his hand
on my head, Ryan runs the  clippers too far up the side of my head four more
times as I make a squeaky  sound, sinking deeper into a submissive frame of
mind. My fetish is firmly in  charge of my brain now. It simply took over
and I'm helplessly in it's grasp.  I've nothing else on my mind except those
clippers and the way Ryan's recklessly  using them. Me saying anything
during this haircut-fetish-induced submissive  trance is out of the question.
When Ryan's reduced the hairs on the right side  of my head to a fine-sandpaper
feel, he steps behind me pushing my head forward  so far my neck is
stretched and my chin is touching my chest. The clippers make  their buzzing sound
as he runs then too quickly all the way up the back of my  head. It takes
five passes to reduce the hair on the back of my head to  basically no length,
like the hairs on the right side. I moan, "Oooooh," so  quietly I don't
think Ryan heard it above the sound of the  clippers.


He's been cutting further up the side and back of my head than the last
time, and last time he did it further than he should have. I'm going to be
home  for almost four days, so maybe the extra shortness is so I'll remember
him while  I'm away. I'd have to say he's right too because I'll definitely
think of him  every time this fucked-up haircut comes to mind. Fucked-up or
not it's sexually  arousing and I'm squirming on the stool as I notice the
first inklings of  orgasm. It feels like I'm going to cum as I sink deeper into
my submissive  frame of mind. It takes some effort to keep my moans low
enough so as not to  humiliate myself. It's like this: Ryan proceeds with the
haircut he wants me to  have without caring what I want, and I sit docile
here letting him do it.  That's where the submissiveness comes into play: I
have no say or control over  what he's doing. Ryan cutting all the hair off the
back up to the  crown has me on the verge of cumming in my pants as it is,
but now he  pushes the clippers across the top of my head removing the hair
from the crown.  He's moves the clippers sideways from one side of my head
to the other, pressing  the clippers against my scalp. The buzzing sound of
the clippers cutting through  my hair reverberates in my ears and now I moan,
"Oooh, aah," picturing  it in my brain the top hairs being cut to the
scalp, then I see the longer hairs  he's cut from the top drifting down off my
shoulder to fall to the tile floor. I  gasp, shudder, and moan louder, "Oooh,
aaahhhh." My body stiffens and jerks  forward as a long tantalizing stream
of cum pours into my  underwear.

Ryan can tell I've just climaxed so he stops cutting, standing behind me
holding the running clippers to the side. The sound of the clippers is all I
hear. My eyes are closed as my hips jerk forward and more cum drools out of
my  cock emptying my nuts. Ryan doesn't say anything, he just waits until I
finish  my orgasm and my body stops shuddering. Tightening my groin muscles
squeezes out  a tiny bit more cum as orgasm sensations are rolling over me
with my shoulders  shuddering. A quiet, "Oooh, mmm," from me as I slump on
the stool feeling  pathetic and weak even as I'm savoring the uniquely
awesome sensations of sexual  climax. Letting out a long held breath slowly, my
eyelids feel too heavy to  open, I sigh, and then without a word Ryan
continues the haircut. He must have  missed a few hairs on the crown because he runs
the clippers over the same area  again pressing down and I hear the
"Buzzzzz," of more hairs being cut. Now his  hand is on top of my head again
pushing my wobbly head to my right shoulder so  he can cut all the hairs off the
left side. Right after climaxing, the haircut  doesn't feel sexually arousing
anymore, but I expect I'll be in the grasp of my  fetish again when the
last lingering sensation of climax fades away. For the  moment I'm mostly
thinking this is just a much too short haircut, surpassing  Willie's best efforts
to have a barber cut my hair as short as he dares. No  professional barber
in his right mind would think of doing the haircut Ryan's  done, not unless
the customer insisted on it. For the moment I'm basically  pissed-off
because Ryan's overdoing it. My current pissed-off emotion is subject  to change
of course.


Ryan's goes over the sides, back, and crown again, then turns the clipper
off and sets it on the bar. He stands behind me roughly rubbing my head with
 both hands, finishing with a dismissive push on the back of my head.
There's  still no talking and without the sound of the clippers it eerily quiet.
The way  Ryan roughly rubbed and then pushed my head after blatantly cutting
my hair  ridiculously short, has changed my mood again. From being pissed-
off, I'm now  resigned to the fact that Ryan's dominant and I submissively
know my place. The  blasé manner Ryan's doing whatever he wants signifies to
me that he really does  intend being in charge and it's not just some vague
concept anymore. I gaze at  him as he's choosing the quarter inch guide for
the clippers. That's the length  the rest of the hairs on top on my head
will be when he's finished. With the  quarter inch guide in place he turns on
the clipper and stands behind me, his  left hand cups my chin pulling my head
back, then he runs the clippers across  the hairline above my forehead and
just like that the combed-over bangs drift  down to land in my lap. With his
hand still cupping my chin he pulls my head  back a little further and then
guides the buzzing clippers from my forehead back  to the hairless crown on
top of my head.The "Buzzzzz," of hairs being clipped  off is louder than
the normal buzz of the clippers and almost makes me cum  again. My hips hump a
little as I'm back totally captured by my haircut fetish,  and in my mind
I'm already eagerly looking forward to the next haircut from  Ryan. He runs
the clippers all over my head front to back with my neck stretched  back, and
then he does it again baring down on my scalp. He's finally done with  the
top, lets go of my chin, and turns off the clippers. Again it's deadly
quiet. I don't know how long this haircut's been going on, but in some ways it
seems like hours, and it other ways like three minutes. Using the trimmer
clippers Ryan meticulously outlines around my ears which makes the hairs on
the side appear a tiny bit longer, contrasting with the trimmer  outline.


Turning off the trimmers it's again so still in here I can here myself
panting quietly, sexually aroused again. I've experienced a few emotional
changes during the haircut, and I'm not sure which one I'm in now. Ryan gets the
 Oster clippers running again without the guide and I have no idea why, or
what  he intends doing with them. He holds them on an angles and runs them
across the hairline at my forehead  and continues around my head. This more
or less blends the  bare-clipper cut with the quarter inch hair on top. I'm
very surprised he knows  that technique. Well, he did tell me a month or two
ago he'd studied online  haircut training videos so he'd know how to give
me a good haircut. Nowhere in  those videos did he see bare clippers used on
the crown of anyone's head unless  he looked at video for military
haircutting. Ryan turns off the clippers for  good now, then gives the back of my
head another dismissive rough push, like:  'You're scalped now, deal with it!'
After putting the clippers down he rubs his  hands over my head, then says,
"Take a look at the haircut you'll be getting all  summer." I sit here in a
fog as he continues talking, "It occurred to me while  cutting your hair
that it wasn't unique enough, so I added something new," and  he rubs the
hairless crown of my head with a smug expression on his face as he  looks at
pathetic me. He's not the least bit concerned what I think about  anything. I
can't even speak yet anyway so his comment gets no reply from me.  Actually I
feel like I'm much younger than Ryan, who might be the dad I've never  had,
although I'm not sure how that would work. I appear unable to do anything,
so I continue sitting here like a fool. Now Ryan looks at me with some
concern  because he's recognized my condition, so he says, "Dylan, you're okay,
you're  fine," and he hugs my shoulders, putting the side of his face against
mind. It  feels comforting and I lean against him. He murmurs, "Your
haircuts done, Dylan,  snap out of it, okay?" He's dropped all his dominant
attitude, probably worried  he's gone too far. I don't think my haircut fetish has
ever approached the  intense level it did this morning, but then I've never
had a haircut experience  like Ryan's provided. No, wait, that's not
completely true 'cause once or twice  before I've had strong reactions. There were
a couple of times when Willie was  instructing the barber how to cut my
hair and the barber was treating me like a  little kid. I even regressed in age
which was a totally dreamy experience. I  don't think I shot off in my
pants though.


As soon as Ryan spoke with concern in his voice the fog or trance began  to
lift and quickly my eyes start blinking as I'm returning from never-never
land, finally back to reality. In a more normal frame of mind unencumbered
by submissiveness, I'm little pissed-off now, "Why the fuck did you use bare
 clippers over the top of my friggin' head?" I'm looking right at him, as
he  shrugs, asking, "Whaddaya mean, Dylan? It's obviously the way I wanted to
cut  your hair... that's the explanation, that's why I did it." Picking up
the hand  mirror I hold it at the crown, saying, "Do you see this?!" Ryan's
brushing  clippings off my shoulder, grinning, "Yeah I see it, I did that on a
whim to  emphasize to you that I'm in charge, and you're not. I wasn't
planning to do  that, but then I thought your haircut needs a more severe slant.
It was looking  too much like those new haircuts styles I'm seeing on guys
now and then. You  know, the ones with the sides almost shaved like yours."
Huh, I guess he does  know about hair style trends. I mutter, "Oh," and get
up without a trace of a  trance now. "Just so ya know, Ryan, I think that
was a mean thing to do, and I  didn't think you were mean." He shrugs, "I'm
not mean, and as I told you a  little while ago, I hate making you unhappy.
However, if I expect you to really  believe your haircut represents me being
the dude in charge, I needed to do a  haircut that'll get your attention, not
one that's becoming popular." I'm  holding the mirror over my head seeing
basically a circle of hair on the front  two-thirds of my head, and you know
what: I've seen this exact haircut on  Marines in a movie, exactly like
this, but I can't remember the movie's  title. I nod my head at Ryan's
explanation, then go, "Yep, you got my fucking  attention alright. You know what this
haircut is like?" He says, "Yeah, it's a  duplicate of the Marines haircuts
in a movie I saw on HBO. That was the model I  used." Huh, Ryan's on his
game today. I ask, "What's the name of the movie?" He  shrugs, "Don't
remember," and neither do I, but I bet it was the same one I saw.  I say, "Well, in
case you don't know it, I'm not in the fucking marines!" He  laughs, "Are we
going to go through this every two weeks all summer?" I'm like,  "No, I
don't believe we are." Ryan smiles squeezing the back of my neck, "I'm  glad to
hear that. Um," and he points with his forefinger at the cum stain at my
lap, "Ya did it again, huh?" I can't help but laugh, mumbling, "Yeah, that
happened when you destroyed the hairs at the crown of my head, plus it was
the  way you did everything. The dismissive pushes on my head, and everything
you did  caused my haircut fetish to just take over."


He asks, "Ya gonna change your pants?" I'm like, "No, I don't think I
will. I'm going to the ball game with a cum stain on my lap to remind  myself
you're in charge." Ryan says, "That's a good idea, but for now come on  back
to your bedroom and I'll fuck you." I suck on my lips wanting to say, 'No,
you won't', and I should be able to say that because I just had an orgasm ten
 minutes ago, but I say, "Okay," and we walk down the hall with my hand on
my  head feeling what's left of my hair. I can feel bristles on top and what
feels  like fine-sandpaper every where else. It'll be impossible not to
think of Ryan  every time I feel my head or see myself in a mirror. Ryan's puts
his arm around  the back of my waist giving me a squeeze as I'm thinking,
'If I'm okay with  Ryan's absurd haircuts, and I apparently have accepted
them, I might as well  admit for the better part of the next three months I'm
gonna be doing what I'm  told. This is for real'. I gotta admit Ryan handled
everything this morning in a  perfectly dominant fashion, and now I've got
to trust him not to take advantage  of the control he can exert over me. It
looks like my desire to have someone  cute who I sort of love being in charge
for an extended period of time is  actually going to happen, and I'm
apprehensive about it now. Even though it  makes me apprehensive, the thought that
it's for real sends shivers of delicious  submissiveness all over me. I
lean against Ryan putting my arm around the back  of his waist grinning at him.
He smiles, saying, "This new relationship of ours,  Dylan, it's going to be
so fucking cool." And for a second I get the crazy sense  that Ryan's
walking me as a child to the principal's office for being bad in  class. Man,
this is a weirdly sexy feeling.

It's my bedroom though, not the principal's office we walk into. Ryan
picks up my wrist to look at my watch, "This will be a quickie, babe. I need to
be at the baseball facility picking up jock straps, as you describe my job
as  equipment manager." I ask, "What do you really do as equipment manager?"
He  goes, "I'll tell ya later, for now get your clothes off." Oh man, first
the  haircut and now an encore of Ryan acting kinda dominant. I strip as
Ryan watches  without taking anything off himself. When I'm naked I gawk at
the wetness around  my groin, compliments of my orgasm. Then look over seeing
Ryan taking his big  slong out through the fly of his jeans. He nods his
head at the floor so I get  on my knees and he walks right up to me, his crotch
near my face. His scent is  sexy as I put his soft penis in my mouth. I'm
sucking and licking it as Ryan  runs his fingers over the round of quarter
inch hair on top of my head, saying,  "You can tell people you're in the
Marines, Dylan. They'd believe you because  why else would you have a haircut
like this?" With saliva on my chin, I take his  hardening cock from my mouth to
say, "Why indeed," and go back to slurping on  his huge penis. Smiling to
myself I'm thinking how most people couldn't  understand why I think all of
this is hot and sexy, or why I'm kinda excited  about finally discovering if
an extended submissive state of mind is as  desirable as I've always thought
it would be. In my imagination it's  always been with the right dominant
partner, someone who's dominant in the  right way and who has my best interest
at heart. A guy I kinda love and enjoy  being with, and Ryan qualifies on
all counts. Robby's closer to fitting that  role than he's ever been, and I'm
pretty sure as the boss position he's in with  his dad's company continues
it'll eventually translate to a bossier role in out  relationship. For now
though Ryan's better suited to it, so I'll see how I like  this Georgia
experiment. Will it be a lazy and dreamy experience without me  having any
serious responsibilities to worry about, mostly letting Ryan make all  the
decisions while he takes care of me and looks out for my welfare? That's how  I
envision it anyway. The elephant in the room for that scenario being Ryan's
parents. They could screw things up, but that remains to be seen. There's also
a  significant possibility it'll be a bust, but also it might be a
spectacular  success making it hard for me to chose between Ryan and Robby in the
end.  Dropping Robby is inconceivable of course, but life is weirdly and
wildly  unpredictable at times.


Two minutes of sucking his cock and Ryan goes, "Oh, baby, that's some  good
cock sucking you're doing there, Dylan my boy! My big dick is plenty hard
now and feeling good. You've got me aroused for a recreational doggy fuck on
 your primo ass." I'm already on my knees, so I drop down on my hands and
look up  at my master, going, "Arf, arf!" He grins taking something from his
pocket and  handing it to me, "I came optimistically prepared, Dylan. It's a
tube of lube  and you can do the honors." Sitting up I squeeze quite a bit
of it on my  fingers, then get my fist around his huge hard cock and twist
my way from the  root of his tree, up to the swollen dark red head. Then more
lube and I do it  again squeezing a little harder and Ryan goes, "Mmm,
fuck, that feels good. Hey,  did I ever tell you I used to jerk off with
Vaseline? It's a bitch cleaning my  pecker and hand after the fact though." I
mumble, "Tell be about it. I used baby  oil, the unscented kind and it was no
picnic cleaning that off either." Another  squeeze gets lube on my index
finger. Handing the tube back to Ryan, I drop one  hand to the floor in the doggy
fucking position, and reach behind me spreading  slippery lube on my anus,
then push my finger in my asshole and lube inside.  Ryan's walking around
behind me, asking, "You ready, babe?" I nod, "Always for  you, Ryan." He smacks
my ass, "SMACK! SMACK!"  just the two smacks this  time because I screamed
at him last time for overdoing the spanking. Two or  three, even four or
five smacks on my ass gets the sexual arousal soaring, and  it's a head-start
for a dreamy submissive curtain to begin descending slowly  over my brain.
Accepting a spanking from a peer is a very submissive  act.


Assisted greatly by the lube, Ryan punches his cock's head right past my
sphincter. It went in easy as far as he's concerned, but it hurts back there
as  far as I'm concerned. I move around a little, groaning, "Ooh, ooow,
that's  fucking tight." Ryan say, "When we get home it'll be a week of four
fucks a day  to get you stretched out, Dylan. I hate seeing you hurting like
this, but it'll  only be for five days to a week once we get to Georgia."  My
anus is  greatly stretched right now, it's lips clutching the shaft of Ryan's
boner just  below the head where it's not as fat. The lips of my asshole
soon relax enough  for me to push back on his boner getting two inches to
slide tightly inside  my rectum. I grunt, wait a few seconds, then manage to
say, "It's already better  than last time," Ryan murmurs, "Good to hear," and
he humps a couple more inches  in and that does hurt as I arch my back,
"Oooow, oh fuck, that hurt." Ryan leans  over my back, cupping my shoulder with
both hands and then pulls me back onto  his boner until his groin is tightly
against my buttocks. I groan, "Ohhhh, that  really hurt." Ryan says, "Sorry,
but I thought it'd be best to get it over with  all at once." I'm moving my
body without going anywhere, just squirming in place  as the pain begins
fading, so I mumble, "That was a good idea,  Ryan."


He leaves his big boner impaling me while he massages my shoulders,
asking, "Any submissiveness left over from the haircut?" I squirm a little more,
definitely feeling my ass is overloaded which is making it hard for me to
think  about his question. Often I don't notice the early stages of a
submissive sense  in my head, not unless I slip into a very noticeable submissive
trance,  like when my haircut fetish kicked in a little while ago. Mostly it's
more of a  cumulative thing. Oh man, the submissiveness I felt during parts
of that  butchering haircut were awesome. Right now though I'm not noticing
much of  anything except my sore asshole. I tell him, "I don't think
there's much  submissiveness left's, Ryan. I have no control of it, ya know." He
mutters, "I  know all too well." Then he adds, "I'm going do your next
haircut the day we're  leaving for our trip home to get you in the right frame of
mind. Hopefully your  submissive mood will continue in minor ways all summer
satisfying your desire  for it, which is part of our program. You know, so
you won't need to seek a  dominant partner elsewhere. Over this weekend
you'll forget most of today's  submissiveness, and then there's a week and a
half before we leave. During that  time we'll have finals on our mind. So,
that's why I've decided the day we're  leaving for home is the right time to do
the extreme haircut putting you back  into a submissive frame of mind, ha
ha, submissive to me that is." I'm not  listening very closely to his
ramblings because now his cock is setting off  sparks of sexual pleasure in my
rectum and anus. Two areas where many, many  nerve endings reside and even though
they initially caused pain, they've now  switched gears to pleasure mode.
Fucking nature, huh! Right now those sensations  are almost like an itch, an
itch that a moving boner can scratch  awesomely.


Ryan senses the change in my posture  and does a couple of long thrusts in
my ass getting my back arching again, as I  go, "Ahhhh, mmm, Ryan that feels
good. Really tight but, oh my god, your cock  feels so good up my ass." He
grunts, "My big cock feels mighty good in your  asshole too," then he
groans, "Oooh, umm," adding, "I've told you a hundred  times we were meant for
each other." Another half dozen thrusts gets me arching  my back during the
first couple of thrusts, and then I'm humping back into the  last few. My
rectum is ready for it now and Ryan knows it. He grabs my hips and  gets into
harder, faster thrusting and I'm in ecstasy for a couple of luscious  minutes.
My forearms drop down on the floor so I can push my throbbing ass up  making
it easier for Ryan to fuck me hard. My forehead is resting on the back of
my arms moaning as Ryan rocks my body foreword with each hard slam of his
big  log up my ass. It feels so good I have tears in my eyes and I'm moaning
constantly, my moans keeping time with Ryan's grunts. I blew a big load in
my  pants when Ryan ran the clipper over the top my head, and thinking back
on that  now adds to my incredibly high sexual arousal and increasing the
sensations of  sexual pleasure I'm feeling. After only three or four minutes
Ryan's making  desperate moaning sounds like he's getting close to climax, He
goes, "Uum, uum,  uum," whiney sounds like you get when you're right on the
verge of blowing your  load, but you're not quite there yet. Thinking of
Ryan's orgasm soon pouring  inside me gets me further aroused and my cock gets
even harder as it swings  under me with Ryan hammering into me with each
drive up my ass.


Another minute of steady hard, fast  thrusting and Ryan just stops. "Ahhh,
ooh," from Ryan as he lays his chest on my  back and his arms go tightly
around my stomach. He pushes his cock inside me  until he's tightly against my
buttocks, waits a second and then begins an  incredibly fast rabbit fuck
with thrusts as fast as I've ever experienced and in  twenty seconds everything
seem to go black as I squeal thrashing about under  Ryan with little
squirts of cum firing out of my cock and me feeling faint from  the intensity of
those little spurts of pleasure. A whine from Ryan as he hold  his cock fully
inside my ass frantically humping against my buttocks flooding my  bowels
with his seed. Another hump against me and more cum joins their brothers  in
my bowels, but I'm thinking mostly about the thrilling sensations my little
orgasm created. Little yes, but really hot! Still hugging around my chest
Ryan  takes a ride in my slippery ass, but much slower with long lazy thrusts
before  pulling his cock out and staggering backwards, almost falling as he
straightens  up, exclaiming, "Damn, that was one hot fuck! Oh man, jesus
that was a good  one!" I roll over to lay on my back taking deep breaths
looking up at Ryan, and  then stare as his large cock that's now semi-hard and
slimy with his own cum and  the lube. He takes another deep breath, "I'd let
you suck it again, Dylan, but  it's got all that lube on it and I don't think
you want that in your mouth." I'm  pretty fucking sexually satisfied myself
so I wasn't even thinking about sucking  that big bad boy of Ryan's. The
spontaneous orgasm from my haircut fetish was  very hot, but for me nothing
feels as good as orgasms from anal fucking. That  relatively little bit of
spunk in my orgasm felt like: kaboom! Love those second  orgasms.


Ryan's holding his hand down to help me up and when I'm standing we hug
with Ryan murmuring, "You're wonderful, Dylan. Thanks for everything you've
done  for me, and special thanks for trusting me enough to stay with me this
summer."  He kisses my lips with his hand on the back of my head rubbing my
fine-sandpaper-feeling hair back there. Already I've rationalized the
haircut  into being a welcome and spectacular sexual adventure, mainly from my
haircut  fetish's perspective. My fetish experience was so recent it carried
over some to  our sex, making that extra hot and sexy. The way I'm feeling
right now if  someone attached a lie detector to me and give me a big shot of
sodium  thiopental and then ask me if I'm looking forward to Ryan's next
butchered  haircut, I'd truthfully say 'Yes, I am'. Of course it's the way Ryan
went about  the haircut that counts too. He showed no hesitation, was rough
about it, and  didn't care what I'd think about it when he was finished. All
that was obvious  to me from his body language during the haircut. He'll
probably care what I  think about it later, but he didn't care when he was
doing my haircut. In other  words, he was totally in his dominant frame of mind
doing the haircut his way,  and I'm a sucker for that. Also he's got tons
of experience being on the other  side so he knows what turns on submissive
types like me, which he once  was.

Ryan asks, "Did you shower this  morning?" I go, "I didn't, do I stink?" He
laughs, "You'd never stink, Dylan.  No, I was thinking we'd take a quick
shower together. Not a sexy one,  unfortunately, because I really gotta get
going." I shrug, "Sure, I'm pretty  well taken care of in the sex department
at the moment, not feeling horny at  all." He grins. "Me neither," and as we
walk into the bathroom, he says, "Tell  me about that submissive haircut
fetish of yours. It seems really, um, unusual  to me." During the shower I
explain that it's actually not all that unusual as  there are a number of
websites totally devoted to haircut fetishes. Short  haircut, head shaves, forced
haircuts with the victim tied-up, and a lot of  other stuff too. Ryan
doesn't get how a haircut is sexy, but then I don't  understand it either. For
some of us it just is.Then I tell him, "It's hard  describing how it feels
other than to say it's sexually arousing. So arousing to  some people they get
really nervous with their hands shaky, and generally  wickedly turned-on from
getting a short haircut. Some get turn-on to the degree  they can barely
function. I'm not that bad, but then I've only realized I  developed this
fetish during the last year or so. I can't describe why I have  it, I just do.
Ya know, it's like why does someone gets sexually aroused putting  on leather
pants, or from being tied up, or a guy get a sexual rush wearing  woman's
clothing." I don't think anybody knows why they have the fetish they  have."
As we're drying ourselves, Ryan mumbles, "I wish I had that fetish, I  wish
I had any fetish that's sexually arousing." I'm skeptical, "You sure  you
don't have a fetish, Ryan?" He shrugs, "I don't think so, not since  I've
walked away from the need to be submissive. I'm not even sure being  submissive
is a fetish." I go, "How 'bout you getting a boner from being  spanked, and
sometimes you get a boner spanking me." He shrugs again, "Not  anymore I
don't." See, nobody understands fetishes.


After drying, I get dressed in clean clothes throwing the cum soaked
underpants and sweatpants in with the dirty laundry. Going down the steps to the
parking lot Ryan pats my shoulder, asking, "Hey, don't you want to wear a
hat,  Dylan. I mean, with this," and he rubs my head. I go, "Fuck it.
Everyone I care  about will see it soon enough, and as for strangers I don't give a
fuck what  they think." I almost stop in my tracks realizing that what I
just said is  actually true. Holy shit, when did I finally realize it's stupid
to worry about  what everyone thinks. Just be myself and do no harm. That's
what I say about  having sex, and it applies to the rest of life as well.
Then I smile to myself,  thinking, 'Willie would be so proud of me'. Yes,
he's been trying to get me  turned around to his way of thinking as long as
I've known him. He's never given  a shit what anyone thinks. Willie's as
responsible for this change in me as  anyone. Good old Willie. Ryan hands me the
keys to the Mini, saying, "You might  as well drive us to Merrimack, Dylan. I
guess I need to get use to your fast  driving since we'll take turns
driving the Mini home." I get in the drivers seat  wondering if I should mention
that's his home is not my home. He said we'd be  going 'home' a number of
times this morning.


Being conscientious about staying near the speed limit we make it to
Merrimack campus okay, and then I park as close to the baseball field as I can.
As we're walking the rest of the way Ryan glances at my head every couple of
 seconds, or should I say he's glancing at the haircut he gave me. I'm
ignoring  that because it's like I'm sick of talking about this haircut, and
frankly, I'd  rather not think about it. I feel scalped and the breeze feels
odd on my almost  hairless head. Ryan asks, "Do you think I overdid it with
the haircut?" I shrug,  "Duh, ya think? Don't worry about it though, hair has
a way of growing out." He  puts his arm across my shoulders, saying, "That's
the right attitude, Dylan. I  probably overdid it, but we'll say this is
the model for the rest of the summer.  I promise not to go any shorter." I
puff out my cheeks blowing out air, then  mumble, "You'd be kinda hard pressed
to make it any shorter, wouldn't you say?"  He says, "Yep, I would be, but I
could do it shorter if you're naughty... heh  heh," and his hand reaches up
from my shoulder rubbing the back of my head,  adding, "I'm kinda liking this
hairdo on you the more I see it. You'll be my  marine boy," and he rubs my
head again. The thought occurs to me again that I  need to be careful what I
wish for.


At the gate to the baseball stands, he goes, "I gotta take off now, babe,
but I'll see you after the game. Will you make sure you see me before
leaving?"  That was put as a question, but I know it was an order. I go, "Sure,
Ryan, I  won't leave without saying goodbye." He stops, and grins, saying,
"We're getting  off to an awesome start, don't ya think?" He looks so eager for
me to agree with  him, I push his glasses up his cute nose, smiling, and
saying, "Yep, we're  getting off to a great start, boss. You're doing
everything perfectly." His eyes  shine as he smiles, "Thanks, Dylan" and he runs off
towards the locker rooms.  Like I've said, it's not hard making Ryan happy.
Then, as I wander through the  gate looking up at the stands for a spot to
sit without a lot of students around  me, I'm wondering what bad things have
happened in Ryan's life that now the  littlest positive thing makes him
happy. I know about his bad choices for  dominant sex assholes, but that
doesn't account for all of his life these twenty  years. What about the rest of
the time. What'd he do other than the sub/dom sex,  and what has his home life
been like? The way he tells it, home life was  idyllic. Guess I'll get an
idea of that in the not too distant future, and  sharing the same bed we'll
have lots of time to talk too, so maybe I'll find out  why he was so unhappy
until meeting Robby and me.


Walking by the stands looking up, someone grabs my arm, saying, "What the
fuck, Dylan?" I turn to see Jarod Mellingcamp. "Hey, Jarod, whassup?" He
points  to my head, "What's that suppose to be?" I shrug, "A misunderstanding
between me  and my barber." He laughs, "That's an awful haircut, dude." I go,
"Well, thanks  for sympathizing with me, Jarod, old pal." He goes, "I'm
sorry, it's just that  I've never seen a haircut like that before, that's all."
I mumble, "Enjoy the  game," and step up onto the bottom bleacher and make
my way to the top  exchanging remarks about my haircut with strangers as I
go. Near the top of  the bleachers I walk along to the end of the section and
sit, resting my arm on  the railing. I'm thinking back to when my face
would have been bright red with  embarrassment from guys ragging on me about
this butchered haircut. What a waste  of energy it was doing all that blushing.
Then I think back to middle school and  the Brockco twins who's mother gave
them home haircuts that were just dreadful.  The twins thought nothing of
it. If someone commented unkindly about their home  haircuts, one or the
other of the identical twins would says something like,  'Our mom give us
haircuts to save money. She does the best she can with it.'  Just like that, the
truth of the matter, with a so-what attitude if you don't  like it. The twins
were polite about it and not self conscious at all. They  figured out years
before I ever did that some things simply aren't that  important. Guys
would mock the twins behind their backs, but I always sort of  admired them.


Because Ryan has to do some  equipment manager things, whatever they might
be, we're here early. It's  eleven-twenty and the game doesn't start until
noon. Players are on the diamond  and in the outfield warming-up in uniforms
that look so clean and bright. That's  always fascinated me about the Red
Sox and Paw Sox players. They always look  like their wearing brand new
uniforms. I wonder who does their laundry. I watch  guys take batting practice,
smiling when I see Robby looking so cool taking his  swings. Danny's right
behind Robby waiting for his turn in the batting cage. He  looks cool too, and
then I remember their new haircuts and wonder how much shit  they had to
hear from teammates. Hey boys, I feel your pain. Then the  unmistakable smell
of cooking hotdog's drifts by on the breeze so I look around  and see a
refreshment stand below, and one section over. Okay, I'm hungry, so I  get up and
make my way down as a kid I don't know announces, "Military personnel  on
campus," then his buddy says, "Thank you for your service." I think he was
serious, so I wave my hand in their direction without looking at  them.


While I'm waiting in a short line at the refreshment stand Chubby comes  up
and wraps me in his arms from behind, energetically saying, "It's my big
brother!" I shrug out of his hold, "Chubby! Hey, bro, congratulations, you're
 finally done with those fucking review courses, right?" He's with John
Beverly  and two girls. Chubby's like, "Yeah, bro, and thank god for that. Hey
this is  Bev, and that's my hot babe, Darlene," pointing at each one, then
adding, "You  know John Beverly of course... heh heh." I go, "Yeah, I know John
Beverly. Hi,  John Beverly," and we bump fists, then I say to the girls,
"Nice to finally meet  you two. Um, Darlene, I wanna ask you a question. Do
you call John, John  Beverly?" She exchanges looks with her girlfriend, then
looks back a me, saying,  "Well, yeah, that's his name." I ask, "What's your
last name?" and she's like,  "Milkins," so I ask, "Do your friends always
refer to you as Darlene Milkins, or  just Darlene?" Chubby goes, "Yo, bro,
these questions are too hard for Darlene,"  making Darlene giggle and says, "Oh
you, Jeffrey." Bev asks, "What the fuck kind  of haircut do you have,
Dylan?" I go, "An unfortunate one," and she goes, "I'll  say, ha ha, jesus, that
sucks!" Chubby says, "No need to be nasty to my big  brother, Bev. That
pisses me off, and by the way whaddaya call that hairdo  you've got there on
your head?" Bev says to Darlene, "I told you this was a bad  hairdo. Fuck, I'm
never going back to Super Cuts." Chubby says, "Fuck a whole  bunch of
haircuts," and he pinches my cheeks together, asking, "Have you ever  seen a cuter
face than my brother's?" Darlene says, "No, actually I haven't,  he's even
cuter than you, Jeffrey. He adorable." A guy behind me asks, "What can  I
get ya?" I turn around and there a middle age man behind the counter of the
refreshment stand. It's my turn to order so I ask for a hotdog and a small
Coke.  He gets them and passes both to me with a wrapper around the hotdog,
and says,  "Condiments to your right, son." I hand him a five dollar bill and
he says, "No,  this is my treat, soldier. Thanks for your service." That
gives me a chill as I  think of the military men and women who actually deserve
hearing that. Still  holding the five dollar bill towards the man, I'm
about to explain myself when  Chubby nudges me to the side, saying, "Yeah,
thanks for your service, kid" as he  grins at me, then he orders a hotdog and I
mumble, "Thanks for the hotdog," as I  put the five dollar in my pocket.


I put mustard on the dog thinking  how Chubby would never mention my
haircut unless he could compliment it, like  he's done for most of the bizarre
haircuts I've gotten over the years. This one  though he can't compliment, so
he just wouldn't say anything about it. I saw,  what I recognize, as an angry
frown on Chubby's face when that girl, Bev, said  what she did about my
haircut. Whenever I think about Chubby, my brother, I feel  warm and wonderful
inside. To have someone like Chubby getting my back like he  always has our
entire lives is a priceless gift that few are lucky enough to  have. Now
Chubby's next to me at the condiment stand heaping every condiment  they offer
on his hot dog. His girlfriend laughs, "You're crazy, Jeff." Chubby  takes a
huge bite and chews with his cheeks bulging. When he swallows he says to
me, "See, bro, I didn't eat with my mouth open." I say, "You're making
progress  with that, bro, but you forgot to pull up your fly after the last piss
you  took." He goes, "You didn't tell me I needed to pull my fly up every
time I  pee." I laugh shaking my head because he says everything like he's
serious.  Darlene says, "Your fly's not down, Jeff." Chubby goes, "Good, you're
in charge  of frequently checking on that, Darlene," then to me, "Sit with
us, Dylan." I  shake my head, "No thank, Chubby, I'd feel like a fifth
wheel." Bev asks John  Beverly in a stage whisper, "Why's he call Jeff, Chubby?" I
pat Cubby's  shoulder, "Love ya, bro," and walk towards the bleachers and
walk up to the spot  I was at before getting the hotdog.


With the umpires standing around home plate an announcer asks everyone to
stand and remove their hats for the playing of The Star Spangled Banner. A
recording of it begins and the players stand in the dugout facing the flag
in  center field with their caps over their hearts. I'm looking at Robby's
and  Danny's retro flat tops, the hairs sticking up crisply with the help of a
little  hair gel. It gives me a funny feeling knowing I gave the guys the
haircuts.  Personally I think they look cool. The national anthem's over and
fans in the  stands sit down, the players run out on the field, and the game
starts. I  happily watch because I like baseball and I like looking at the
young baseball  players. I know it's much too slow a game  for many, but the
pace suits me.  I remember Freddie's reaction to baseball the first time I
met him, he claimed  the game of baseball is an awesome sports for
insomniacs. Ha ha! I feel the same  way about their football, that we call soccer.
Most favor the sports they grew  up with and then there are those who don't
like sports of any kind, and they  significantly outnumber the sports fans.
The network's MLB game of the week, for  example, averages two and a half
million viewers out of the three hundred  million people in the US. I wonder
what the rest of the people are doing?  Today's baseball game slowly goes on
inning after inning and at the top of the  fifth, Robby hits a home run with
two men on base... a three run homer. I'm so  proud of him as I watch him cooly
circle the bases and step on home plate with  his teammates high-fiving
Robby and tapping his cap and back. It's cool how all  the players congratulate
their teammates when someone does something good.  That's a team thing and
something I haven't experienced much of in my life.  Occasionally I see Ryan
collecting batting armor for the guys who wear it  on their elbow or ankle
while batting. The game goes into extra innings and then  Merrimack wins in
the bottom of the tenth. Neither Robby or Danny was a part of  the winning
rally, but they both had big hits during the game, Danny had two as  a matter
of fact. Okay, the players mob their teammate who drove in the winning  run
and then slowly they drift into the club house and locker room.


Leaning back against the bleacher seat behind me I sit here watching
everyone leave feeling good for Robby. Then I'm thinking how the stands were
less than half full for this last game of the year. Merrimack's student body
doesn't support baseball the way they do ice hockey. Our ice hockey team is a
 force in the league we're in. Whatever, at least Robby will be happy
during our  drive to Framingham because he hit a home run and his team won the
game to  finish the season at .500. Not great, but better than a losing
season. Almost  everyone is out of the stands when I get up and begin making my
way down the  bleachers to ground level. I hang around just outside the gate
waiting for Robby  and hoping to see Ryan. He told me to make sure I say
goodbye before I leave for  the long weekend, and I'd like to see him too. It's
twenty minutes before I see  anyone come out of the clubhouse and I know
they're not players. Then I see Ryan  looking around so I shout over to him and
he does that finger wiggle, meaning,  'come here'. I jog over to him as he
says, "Good! You waited for me. There's a  celebration in there with the
guys reluctant to leave now that their season is  over. Ah, parting is such
sweet sorrow, huh? Anyway, Rob told me to give you a  ride back to the
apartment. He'll try to get there by five." I nod, "Okay. Are  we going now?" Ryan
nods his head and we start walking as he grins, asking, "Did  you see me on
the field picking up jock straps?" I chuckle, "I saw you down  there making
yourself useful." He pats my shoulder, then squeezes the back of my  neck and
we grin at each other.


Almost to the Mini, Ryan has a hand on my shoulder, saying, "Would it be
asking too much during the next three days for you to drop me a text or an
email, Dylan? Freddie's spending the next few days with his family. He
invited  me to join him, but I wasn't feeling it so I'll be kind of alone and it'd
be  nice to hear from you." I mutter, "Sure, of course, but why didn't you
go with  Freddie?" He shrugs, "I don't know. Um, did anyone give you grief
about, you  know," and he lifts his hand from my shoulder to rub my head. I
go, "No, not at  all." He's like, "Oh, good! That's good 'cause I'd feel bad
if they had. I wish  I could think of some other way to remind you of what
we're doing, something  besides the haircut; it was on my mind the whole
game." I shrug, and he adds, "I  looked in the stands a few times but didn't see
you." I tell him where I was  sitting and when we get in the car he pulls
my head over holding the side of my  face against his for a few seconds, than
kissing me, asking, "Have I told you  lately that I love you, Dylan?" I
murmur, "Only all the time, Ryan" He kisses me  again, mumbling, "Good," and we
get in the car with me thinking Ryan's got a  guilty conscience because of
this butchered haircut. We're silent as Ryan's  driving onto route 114 and I
begin feel bad that Ryan feels bad, so I pat his  back, saying, "Don't beat
yourself up about this fucking haircut, Ryan, I'm over  it already." He
blows air out through his lips making a breezy sound, "Thanks,  Dylan, That
makes me feel better. I wanted to make a bold statement to you that  I'm
committed to being in charge. That's a big responsibility." I try not to  laugh,
saying, "It's a big responsibility huh?" He glances over at me, "Well  yeah!
You want to mature a little while learning to accept that you can't always
get what you want ." I go, "Yeah, but sometimes I get what I need, huh?" He
says, "You're making fun of it with the Rolling Stones song, but I'm taking
this  seriously."


Oh fuck, I'm so ready to  go home. I'm a little weary of everything here:
the bantering with Ryan, the  haircut, the whole final exam bullshit,
everything actually. And I don't know  how I'm going to go through the ten weeks
this summer without my brother,  Robby, mom, and my friends in Framingham. I'd
like to see some of the posse  boys too even though there no longer a
posse. Ray I can do without but  some of the other  guys are pretty fucking cool.
Yeah, but I'm also intrigued with the idea of  Georgia... more as an
adventure than anything else. It's something I've  obviously never experienced
before. Ya know, living away from the safety of my  home and family and
friends. I sincerely do feel it'll be beneficial for me to  do something like that,
so I guess I should think more positively about it. It's  no longer a
matter of if I'm going to go or not anyway. The summer plans are  basically
settled and everyone's on board with it, plus how the fuck could I  tell Ryan
I've changed my mind. I don't do things like that to friends. Ryan's  counting
on me and I'm not going to hurt him by bagging the whole deal. Fuck  that!
Ryan parks at the apartment and we sit here with the car idling a few  second
before Ryan asks, "Would you like me to come in with you and keep you
company until Rob gets here?" I say, "Sure, I assumed you would." He smiles as
he turns off the car, happily saying, "You'll forgive me if I sometimes
can't  believe you feel about me the way you do. It's new to me, heh heh. Oh
man, that  sounded so geeky, didn't it?" We get out with me chuckling, "Yeah, a
little  geeky, Ryan, no problem though." He puts his arms around me,
grinning while  saying, "Don't be making fun of me, I'm in charge you know."  As
we're  walking towards the back entrance I reach down and hold his hand,
asking  jokingly, "Hey, aren't you supposed to hold my hand, you being in charge
and  all?," and he goes, "You like me being in charge, I know you do, and
it's like  the best thing that's ever happened to me." I mutter, "Oh please,
a slight  exaggeration on your part." Still holding my hand as we go inside,
he says,  "Actually it's not an exaggeration, "and he said that in a very
serious manner.  I again wonder, 'What were his first eighteen years like
before meeting me and  Robby?' I'm also thinking that Ryan has these little
periods where he acts  anything but dominant. It's like he lets his insecurity
and inferiority complex  of old peek out once in awhile. I guess we're all
complex.



In the apartment he lets go of my hand as I walk around the place,  saying,
"Ya know what, I'm going to miss this apartment when the semester's  over,"
and Ryan says, "I hope you like my house even better than this  apartment,"
but again he said that without conviction. We get Cokes and drink  them on
the balcony while smoking a cigarette. It's only my second cigarette  since
my concussion. We talk about what I should bring with me to Georgia. All
the normal clothes like shorts, t-shirts, swimsuit because it'll be warm
there.  I'll bring my PC of course, and then Ryan goes, "You'll need jeans or
cargo  pants and pull-over shirts like Polo or something for wearing to work.
There's a  'no shorts' policy at the plant, and you have a suit, right?" I
go, "Yeah, I  have a suit, just one though. Why do I need a suit anyway?" He
shrugs,  then says, "Only one, huh? Dad will want us guys wearing a suit to
church and I  guess we can get your's dry-cleaned every couple of weeks.
We'll wear clean  casual clothes to church school on Wednesday nights, not
suits." He sees me  opening my eyes real wide and he quickly goes, "Not every
Wednesday, not even  close to every Wednesday. I'm being totally up front and
honest with you,  Dylan, so there won't be any surprises. Church school's
only an hour anyway."  Then he's telling me how great it'll be working with
me. He purposely doesn't  say it like it will actually be, which is I'll be
working for him and not  with him per se. There's a difference, for instance
last summer I wasn't  working with Robby. I was working with Chubby and Seth
and the other guys. I was  working for Robby. Big difference actually. I
rarely had lunch with Robby and  usually only spoke to him a few times a day
during working hours.



Ryan talks-up the weekend trips  we'll take, building them up as a great
time, especially the one to Disney  World. By the time Robby shows up I'm
again feeling fairly positive about the  summer. Robby joins us on the balcony
all smiles, then he goes, "That rocked!  Ending the season with a win is
awesome! Can't wait until next season." Ryan and  I tell him, "Great game, Rob!"
and he excitedly, says, "Thanks. Yeah, and the  word is we're getting some
good freshman on the team next year. Scholarship  quality freshmen, who are
only going to Merrimack without a scholarship because  their fathers or
mothers went here." He's excitement turns to shock, "Hey, turn  around, Dylan,"
obviously just noticing my haircut. "Did the clippers slip in  your hand,
Ryan? This is a terrible fucking haircut you gave my boyfriend."  Robby's
pissed as Ryan whines, "I got carried away, Rob." Robby's making a face  shaking
his head, mumbling, "You sure did," but that's all that's said about it.
I'm thinking that Ryan immediately became contrite when Robby yelled at him.
Huh, his confident manner might be a thin veneer over his true nature. Or
am I  overanalyzing this too?


Robby and I already had the few  things packed we're taking home with us so
we grab them and leave the apartment.  Ryan takes my satchel and carries it
down the steps for me. At the back door  Robby and I give Ryan a quick kiss
'goodbye'. The kiss 'hello' and 'goodbye' is  a leftover habit Robby
instilled in us last year when he was the boss of Ryan  and me. I'm confused by
Ryan's overzealous, too long hug when we kissed goodbye.  When Robby and I get
in the pickup Ryan has this dejected expression on his  face, looking
totally lost. I give him a big smile and wave as Robby drives the  pickup out of
the parking lot, beginning the hour drive home.


to be  continued...   Donny Mumford    thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@outlook.com



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


Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine  published
and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them  for
next to nothing. The books are under ten dollars. They are about a 19 year  old
gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is  a
new book coming soon. Please at least check them out by typing my name on
Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in  some
detail there. Thank you.


Donny  Mumford


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

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