Date: Tue, 24 Sep 2013 08:39:11 -0700 (PDT)
From: donny mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: chapter  27   DYLAN'S SUMMER VACATION TWO    by Donny Mumford

			DYLAN'S SUMMER VACATION TWO



				Chapter  27



			     by Donny Mumford


After work Friday, Robby and me got into some kinky sex. It was fairly
successful, but obviously Robby didn't know what he was doing although he
seemed to enjoy being totally in charge after he hogtied me. It's up in the
air if we'll try something like that again. Damn good orgasms from both of
us though; for mine I shot off in his mouth.  Then we showered and make
plans to go out to dinner. We went online to choose a restaurant and
finally agreed on Joe's American Bar and Grill, which is in Framingham so
we wouldn't need to travel far. Looking at the menu online, we see that
it's fairly pricey for us, so we make our choices deciding we're going to
splurge like Chubby and I do when we go to Ken's Steak House. Robby and I
haven't had a hell of a lot of luck with restaurants lately, but we're
determined to improve our record in that regard. Getting dressed I decide
on sneakers instead of the sandals I had on earlier, but the same
sleeveless tee-shirt to show off my guns and my tattoo, and khaki
shorts. Then, off we went in Robby's pickup. During the short drive we
discuss our kinky sex and end-up laughing at ourselves because it was
pretty lame. It's fun being with Robby... he seems very much like his old
self tonight and I'm thinking that maybe with Ryan gone Robby feels like
it's back to the way he and I were before the threesome experiment. He has
his side sex with Travis once a week, but he hasn't asked me about any side
sex I might be having. No point in me offering information about Ray if I
don't need to because I'm probably going to switch to Seth anyway. Actually
I was more worried Ryan would discover I was having side sex with two guys
other than Robby. That's if I do in fact have a sexy time with Seth,
too. It's a technicality anyway, if I'm lucky enough to have buddy sex with
Seth I'll discontinue doing it with Ray.  So it's basically like I'm only
doing it with one guy, which is what our threesome agreed to. It's kind of
fun getting back to my alley-catting days again. Basically it's harmless
and not a danger to Robby's and my love affair, but I don't know if I can
say the same about Ryan's and my relationship, which I hesitate to call a
love affair although we are in love. That's a bit of a shaky situation
right there, but since Ryan's in Georgia it's certainly nothing I need to
worry about right now.


Robby parks and we go into Joe's, which is of course jumping on a Friday
night. The lady at reception desk takes our names, and says, "About a half
hour, guys," so we go outside for a cigarette to kill some time. We're
smoking and talking about the
 vacation week the crew will have at the end of July. The moms, Chubby, and
me are going to Wildwood again this year and I've invited Robby to come
with us.  I ask him if he's decided whether to join us or not. He says, "I
can't go; not in good conscience, Dylan. There's stuff, as a supervisor, I
should be doing the week my grass-cutting crew is on vacation. The main
thing is to be sure our lawns get taken care of. Our crew will cover for
another crew when they're off for a week, and that crew's supervisor, Mark
Blazer, is staying to help us get it done. I gotta do the same for
him. Sorry, I'd really like to come with you, but I just can't do it." We
commiserate about that as I'm checking out three guys standing outside,
also smoking while waiting for a table. They're about twenty feet from us,
but from here one kid is borderline cute and I'm trying to decide if he
actually does qualify as cute when he looks up and sees me staring at
him. He's got a baby face, but an attitude that apparently does not match
his face. He gives me the finger, as he shouts, "What the fuck you looking
at?" It's a no win situation and I don't want to ruin the night getting
into a fight, so I avert my eyes and pretend I didn't hear him. Robby looks
over, asking me, "Did he say that to you, Dylan?" I go, "I don't
know. Ignore the fucker, Robby." Robby can't ignore anyone he thinks is
dissing' me. He calls over, "You got a problem, asshole?" The big mouth guy
yells back, "Yeah, that faggot was staring at me and I don't care for
that." Man, when I hear that my first instinct is to go over there and
start throwing punches, and then watch Robby go nuclear on that kid, but no
one really wins. We'll all get our shots in, but the cut under my eye just
healed and I'd rather avoid a fight. Robby says, "Come on, Dylan." So, what
the fuck, we stroll over to the threesome. I say, "Hey, big-mouth, I don't
appreciate being called a faggot. How'd you like getting your teeth knocked
down your throat?" A tall slim kid says, "Hey, cool it, okay? He's had some
bad news at home and he's just letting off steam." The third kid in the
group is looking around like he wishes he was anywhere but here, and the
original big-mouth ain't all that big at the moment. Robby flicks his
finger under the big-mouth's chin, muttering, "Sorry for your troubles,
bud, but ya don't need to bring total strangers into your life to make
matters worse." Big-mouth turns his head away from Robby's taunting finger,
but now that he's confronted, he has nothing to say. I go, "Have a nice
night," as Robby and me saunter inside. No more comments from the
trio. Sometimes they back down and sometimes they don't. Robby chuckles,
saying, "Did you see those guys turtle when we came right up to them?" I
go, "I'm glad they did; fighting is stupid."  Robby's like, "Yeah, it is,
but ya can't let people walk all over you. I was ready for a donnybrook
with those maggots." Robby's a sweet kid, but his temper can get out of
control at times, and then he turns into a madman for awhile.

Surprising the hell out of me, we get seated sooner then the half hour we
were told, instead of longer like I fully expected. I haven't had anything
to eat since our noon lunch, almost seven hours ago, and I'm ready for a
good meal. We get menus, but we don't get waited on. It's a busy place and
I can't help but think it'd make sense to have a few more low-cost waiters
on staff to turn over more dinners? Oh well, it's not like we're in a
hurry. We check the menus, although we already know what we want from
checking the menu online. There's a lot of loud talking and piercing
laughing to my left so I glance over, then say, "Oh, no!" to Robby. He
goes, "What's wrong?" I tell him, "We got a table full of girls-night-out
forty years old, and it appears they've sucked down too many margaritas
already. I hate getting a table next to them. It's happened to me twice
before and these gals will be making spectacles of themselves to insure
that the rest of us know what a good time they're having. I'm a fan of a
good time, but there's a line between tolerable boisterousness and what
amounts to obnoxious bids for attention." Just then one of the loud ladies
pulls a waiter away from the table next to theirs, where he was taking
orders. She yells, "When ya get a chance, doll, we need another round of
drinks." I go, "See what I mean?" The amateur sociologist in me explains to
Robby, "You have a better view than me, so watch for these distinct types
at that table. They'll be 'the funny' one. She'll be the instigator of the
shrill laughter from the others..." and my voice is blocked-out by just
such a shrill round of laughter. Robby laughs, "Go on, Dylan, you got that
one right. She's a heavyset woman facing me." I go, "The 'funny one' will
say edgy quips of a sexual nature, or about extremely fresh topics, like,
'Why can't they make chocolate that helps lose weight?' and all the others
will squeal with laughter.Then there'll be a 'sexy one' at the table. A
woman who feels she has sophisticated taste, like knowing how to squash a
roll of middle-age stomach fat into low-rise jeans two sizes too small for
her, and a tube-top that barely covers medically enhanced boobs. There will
probably be a 'shy one' in the group. She's the only one remotely concerned
for other patrons' comfort. The forth one will probably be the 'artsy
one'. Maybe she took a few pottery lessons at the community college so now
she dresses like a hippie to prove she's artsy and not into conformity. The
fifth one, the last one..."  Robby's laughing, he says, "There are six of
them." I go, "I only know five types, lets say the fifth and sixth women
are the 'smart ones'. Probably holding full-time jobs in low management
positions and spending themselves into oblivion to create the illusion of
success to make the others jealous." And another shrill screech goes up
from the girls-night-out table as a plain looking waiter, about twenty-two
years old, says something to us we can't hear.


I nod at the table of screeching hyenas, and he gives me a cute smile,
proving once again that even plain looking guys can be cute in some way,
even if it's their only way. He goes, "Yeah, they're delightful," meaning
the occupants of the table next to us. "What can I get you guys?" We order
Cokes. The appetizers are too pricey so Robby and I already agreed to order
one shrimp cocktail, and split it. I tell the waiter this, getting another
cute grin from him. He says, "I'll stick a couple of extra shrimp in for
ya, and only charge for six." This guy knows how to bump-up a tip. I go,
"That's cool, thanks." Then I order Maryland lump crab cakes; they come
with cole slaw and sweet potato fries, which I switch to regular french
fries. Robby orders sirloin steak tips which comes with mashed potatoes,
caramelized onions, and mushroom gravy. Both entrees are $17.99 so we now
can split the bill right down the middle. As we wait, the girls-night-out
table keeps a crescendo of noise going that makes normal conversation
difficult. The two couples sitting behind Robby are insisting their table
be changed and this is causing problems for the waiter because the place is
sold-out and there are people waiting for tables. Robby leans towards me,
saying, "For ninety-nine cents you can buy an iPhone app that measures
ambient noise levels. I think the advertisement said trendy places easily
get up over eighty decibels, which is something like a hundred times the
sound energy of normal speech." I go, "I wonder if this is a trendy place?
I think the noise level might be higher in here, thanks to a certain
table." The girls-night-out herd is receiving their dinner orders so the
noise is reduced considerably while they shovel food down their
throats. Thank God! Our server brings the shrimp cocktail and two cocktail
sauce servings, I guess so we can double dip if we choose to without
grossing the other guy out. That's considerate, but Robby and I have
swapped so much spit we could care less if one of us double dips in the
sauce. There are eight shrimp the size of small chicken legs, cooked
perfectly, almost with a snap when you bite off a piece. Very cold too.
What's worse than room-temperature cocktail shrimp that are kind of mushy?
Okay, the appetizer is a big hit. Robby and I reminisce about bad
restaurant experiences we've had that were worse than the girls-night-out
table, although those women should me ashamed of themselves acting the way
they do. Somehow I don't think they will be; well, maybe the shy one will.


Our entrees come in a timely manner, hot and cooked properly so this is one
of our more successful restaurant experiences, fer sure. Damn good crab
cakes. Robby and I share our entrees; his steak tips are medium rare,
tender, and really tasty, especially with the caramelized onions. We clean
out plates as the loud table is back at it with after dinner drinks. I say
to Robby, "The waiter and the food were very good, but I can't stand these
rude bitches any longer, so let's get coffee and dessert someplace else."
Robby says, "I totally agree," and when our waiters asks us if we'd like to
see the dessert menus, I say, "Normally we would, but we can't take the
shrill screeching any longer. You were great though, and so was the food,
so we have absolutely no complaint with you or the chef." He gives the cute
smile again, saying, "Hey, thanks," and takes our check out of a leather
holder he carries in between his apron string and his shirt, and lays it
face down, saying, "I hope you'll try Joe's again." I hold my finger up,
meaning he should wait a second. Glancing at the bill, it's forty-nine
dollars, including the meal tax. I mumble to Robby, "Thirty each." We both
put a twenty and a ten dollar bill on the check, saying, "Thanks, Ronny,"
which is what his name tag says his name is. He thanks us and we're out the
front door of Joe's. It's a relief to hear only traffic noise
outside. Robby goes, "We could have made good use of the noise reducing
earmuffs from work in there." It would have been fine except for that one
group of six loud, obnoxious women. Just one more restaurant experience for
our scrapbook. We end up going to the mall where Robby buys The Killers'
latest CD, and then we get ice cream at the food court.  As soon as we sit
down, Ray and a girl, probably his latest girlfriend, come over and sit
down with us. Ray says, "Excuse me, Dickers" to Robby, then to me, "Hey,
Dylan, you're looking good as usual. I want you to meet my girlfriend,
Maryanne DeCorva. Maryanne this is my boyfriend, Dylan Newman." My face
turns scarlet at his 'boyfriend' reference, as she says, "Hi." Then to Ray,
she says, "Jesus, Ray, he is cuter than me. I'll be goddamned! I thought
you were bullshiting me."  And, like Stringbean alluded to last night,
Maryanne does have a faint mustache on her upper lip, but she's probably
considered sexy except for that. She has an interesting face and a shapely
body featuring big jugs and a big ass and a narrow waist. Ray gets up, and
says, "Call me tomorrow, Dylan. See ya later."  And, as they walk away,
Maryanne hits Ray's arm playfully, saying, "You bi guys are hard to keep up
with." I glance at Robby who has a questioning look on his face. "What was
that all about, Dylan?" Time to lie. I go, "Oh, you know crazy Ray, he
thinks I'm his boyfriend because a long time ago we had an incident
together." That's what I consider a little white lie because way back when
Ray and I did have a little thing going, and it was before Robby, Ryan, and
I established the rules for our threesome, so I wasn't cheating. Robby
goes, "You're too nice to everyone, Dylan.  Geeks like Ray Ellis ya just
tell to get lost. They're leeches." I go, "That is so uncharitable, Robby,
and not like you at all." He shrugs, "Okay, you don't tell them to get
lost, but you don't do sexual favors for them either. Jeez!" I go, "He's
misunderstood, that's all.  Some people you need to give a break to." Robby
smirks, and asks, "Did you notice Maryanne's mustache?" I go, "No, she had
a mustache? Poor thing." He shakes his head slowly, muttering, "Oh my God,
I'm in love with an Albert Schweitzer clone. You're too nice to
everyone. Wait until you have a supervisory or manager position in some
job, then you'll realize you can't be nice to everyone or they'll walk all
over you. But I love you like you are." I look innocent, and Robby smirks,
asking, "Um, are you patterning yourself after Mother Teresa by any
chance?" I go, "No, Will Rogers."


We finish our ice cream, and Ray Ellis and his mustachioed girlfriend are
forgotten by the time we're walking in the parking lot smoking a
cigarette. Robby gets his arm around my neck pulling my head to his, as he
gives me a smoky kiss on the lips with me exhaling Robby's second hand
smoke through my nose. Then we stop and do a really good kiss next to the
pickup. A few people walk by pretending we're invisible. Done our kiss, I
ask, "What happened to our pledge of no public displays of affection?"
Robby chuckles, then says, "I underestimated your sexiness and cuteness
factors. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed with the need to smell, feel, and taste
you. And I'm getting used to being openly gay, too. Why should I care what
total strangers think? It's awesome to be free," and he kisses me again,
then holds his face beside mine, saying, "I love you more every day," and
the sincerity gives me shivers as I cling to him, muttering, "Me too,
Robby." We kiss again, then break apart with Robby blurting out a laugh,
saying, "I got the hardest boner from hugging and kissing you. You're
dangerous!" I take that as a compliment, and mumble, "You too, Robby," as I
grope my junk. He laughs again, "You always do that. I give you some sort
of ultimate compliment, and you basically mutter, 'ditto'." I go, "I do
not," and he hugs me again and does a long kiss on the side of my face,
then one on my lips. I feel so loved and adored by Robby and it's the best
feeling ever. Smiling at him now, he just shakes his head again, "God
almighty, I'm so in love with you, it's insane, Dylan. And there will be a
day I won't need to share you with anyone, you'll be mine alone. That's the
day I look forward to; that keeps me going as I work my way towards that
special day." I go, "You'll get no argument from me, Robby. I want to be
yours alone too, as soon as you're done sowing your wild oats." He yells,
"My wild oats? Oh man, you're such a cute con artist, a real social
engineer." "What the hell does that mean?" I ask, as we step on our
cigarette butts. We're getting in the pickup, with Robby saying, "Actually
I'm not sure what social engineering means, it just sounded cool saying
it." He's in an awesome upbeat mood, and again I wonder if it's just a
coincidence that Robby's so chipper and Ryan's in Georgia; is it
coincidence or is it cause and effect?


During the drive back to my condo we get laughing from mocking the various
types of girls-night-out participants that I described. It's great having
Robby in such a good, loving frame of mind, no matter the reason for
it. When we park at the curb below my condo, Robby says, "Slide over here,
baby." I love that he told me to come to him, and I love when he calls me a
sweet endearment, although I used to cringe at times when Willie did it. I
slide over to him and Robby wraps his arms around my neck as my arms go
around him, and we get into a hot, loving, sexy make-out. Robby's not the
only one with a boner in his pants by the time he says, "Let's get naked in
your bedroom, Dylan. I'm going to fuck your brains out again." Robby's
combination of taking charge, along with his basic loving sweetness, is
becoming more and more like the formula Ryan has going for himself; it's
irresistible to me. We walk up the steps with Robby holding my hand and me
walking close to him like Ryan does. My boner comes along with us as I
glance at Robby every couple of steps, enjoying how cute he is and how
confident he appears to be. He looks over at me, saying, "You and me
forever." I nod my head staring into his beautiful blue eyes. Who could
ever wish for a better boyfriend than Robby? I find myself in one of my
submissive states of mind and I've no idea how I got there, but I'm
grateful for it, especially being with him. We go into the house, hand in
hand, without speaking, then walk into my bedroom where we silently get
undressed. Robby motions with his finger for me to come to him and when I
do he cups my balls in his hand, my boner rests upwards against his wrist,
as my arms go around his neck for a long kiss with our lips moving and our
tongues smoothly rubbing together. A long, "Mmmmm," from my throat as
precum drools from my cock onto his arm and my shoulders shudder.
Occasionally everything is perfectly aligned for sexual love, and tonight,
for basically reasons unknown, is one of those times for Robby and
me. Maybe it's the kinky sex we had earlier, or Robby and me unknowingly
pushing each other's buttons just right, and at the same time, but whatever
the reason everything just seems sexier and more loving than usual. I'm
sighing with pleasure, limp against Robby, our naked bodies as tightly
together as it's possible for them to be. Bare skin against bare skin is so
wonderfully sexy. We kiss until I'm weak with desire for this perfect
lover. He takes my hand and with our boners preceding us we walk to the bed
and climb in to wrap our arms around each other to do deep kisses as we
squirm against one another. Just as I'm on the verge of spontaneously
climaxing, Robby pushes me onto my side, with him behind me on his side;
his hard cock splits the lips of my anus as I whimper with desire and then
the head of his cock is inside me with both of us shuddering and moaning
with pleasure, "Mmmmmm, aaah." Robby's arm is over my side, his hand
rubbing one of my nipples as he pushes his cock all the way up my rectum
and a spurt of precum plops out of my boner and drops to the sheet. He
leaves his cock inside me as he kisses the side of my neck and then sucks a
hickey there as his hips smoothly thrusts his boner back and forth in my
ass. Shivers of pleasure zig zag through me accompanying my constant sighs
of deep sexual pleasure. Loving sexual pleasure that only true love allows.


Sucking my neck and kissing it, while rubbing my hard nipples and fucking
my ass steadily has me in a wonderful place that I want to be in forever,
but my balls have worked-up a large supply of sperm, and my cock buzzes
with scintillating sensations that are feeling so good I can hardly believe
it, and Robby's fat cock is massaging every sensitive spot in my rectum and
has it dancing in a sea of pleasure... something has to give. I cry out and
hump my hips as a dizzying array of unbelievable sexual sensation
overwhelms my brain and cum shoots out of my cock with my whole body
vibrating. I hump back against Robby and then my hips thrust forward for
another string of cum traveling from my balls out my super sensitive boner.
Robby makes a desperate strangling sound in his throat and slams against me
to fill me up with his cum. My last spurt comes out of me as his second
blast goes into me and we're both jostling against one another with sounds
associated with the intense sensations of orgasm. My body is still sizzling
with these awesome sensations as I stroke my cock and Robby clings to me
still doing hard humps up my ass. He's whimpering now as the sensations of
his climax spastically roll over him, and then I go over on my stomach,
still shaking, with Robby's cock pulling out of my ass. I'm laying in my
cum even as Robby's cum drools out of me to roll down my butt cheek. We lay
here, me on my stomach and him on his back; both our hearts pounding as we
take deep breaths coming down from the mountaintop of sexual pleasure. Then
calmness and contentment takes over and a warmth and a wonderful glow
descends on me as I sigh in amazement at the power of love and sex. We
don't speak, just soak up the moment. Robby takes a deep breath, then rolls
over on top of me and slides his cock up my cum filled ass again to fuck me
for another five minutes of bliss.  He's finally satisfied, pulls his
softening cock from my ass and lays next to me on his stomach with his arm
over my back, and then says quietly in my ear, "Nothing can be this good,
Dylan. With you it's perfection; everything else is in last place," and he
kisses the side of my face, as I mumble, "You too, Robby," which makes him
chuckle, and mutter, "He did it again," meaning he gave me a compliment and
I basically responded with, 'You too, Robby,' instead of coming up with my
own compliment for him. I get my body tight to his, saying, "I did not,"
and we kid about that and wind-up making-out again.


When we're finally satisfied we've sampled each other enough, we get up and
clean ourselves in the bathroom. Robby says, "It's only a little after nine
o'clock, how about we shave our pubes and do haircuts while we have the
chance. Tomorrow I've a busy day working with dad." I ask, "How many hours
a week do you work?"  and he's like, "Too many; don't remind me." I get out
the same razor and shaving cream I shaved with earlier. We wet down each
others' half-inch pubic hairs and carefully shave; I do Robby's first, and
then he does mine. Damn, it feels good down there when it's smooth. I
wonder about Ryan not having anyone to do this with, but don't mention it
'cause it makes me feel sad. We put on our underwear and shorts, then go
downstairs for haircuts. When I get the clippers out and plugged in, Robby
says, "I'll give you your haircut first," so I sit on the stool ready for a
not-too-good haircut and wishing it was Ryan doing the haircutting. Robby
does his workman like job on the sides and back without asking me what type
of haircut I want, but that's okay with me. I like that he's in charge and
that means I can't pick and choose what he's in charge of. There's a few
curse words from Robby when he tries tapering the back, which means he's
made some mistakes, but I don't say anything because I know he's doing his
best.  He finally says, "I'm trying to do it like Ryan, but it's not as
easy as he made it look so I'm just going to square off the hairline in the
back." I sarcastically think, but don't say, 'Oh goody, just like
Supercuts'. Done the sides and back he picks-up the comb, saying, "I'll try
doing the top as short as Ryan did it last time, okay?" I'm quick to say,
"I like the length you make the top, not Ryan's length." He says, "Oh,
okay, but I thought you really liked the last haircut he gave you." I
mutter, "I didn't want to hurt his feelings, that's all. I remembered you
telling me to like my haircut no matter how bad he cuts it." Robby goes,
"Oh yeah, I did tell you that. Huh, good for you, Dylan. Gee, I like that
you did what I told you; half the time I'm not sure you're even paying
attention to what I say." I go, "That's just so wrong, Rob. I always listen
to you." He combs the hairs up on top and runs the clippers across the
comb, muttering, "Dammit," then he does it again, chuckling this time. "I
guess it's going to be as short as Ryan cut it after all." I've no comment
about that as he continues cutting away. He takes quite awhile blending in
the lengths on the sides and back with the length on top and when he hands
me the handheld mirror it's more like a buzz cut than a burr, but it
doesn't look bad enough to complain about. No one is likely to comment on
it, which is the best I can hope from a Robby haircut. Of course I don't
know what it looks like in back that mad him curse under his breath, and I
don't wanna know either. I say, "Nice job, Rob." He smiles that I'm calling
him Rob, and says, "Thanks, but it looks more like a buzz cut then a short
burr." I go, "Nothing wrong with that," and we change places. Robby's
haircut goes quickly. I marvel that he has so much trouble getting the
technique right because it seems so simple to me.


We brush the hair clippings off each other and clean them off the
tiles. Robby says, "Another masterpiece," meaning the haircut I gave him,
and then, "I wish we had a beer." I don't put the clippers away because
I'll need them tomorrow when I give Devon a haircut. To Robby's beer wish,
I say, "Let me borrow a couple from Chubby's condo," and Robby's like,
"Excellent!" He waits on the balcony enjoying the fresh air as I go up and
let myself into Tris' condo with the key from the mailbox. I grab two
bottles of beer, Beck's this time, and leave an IOU note for two beers on
the counter. Locking up, I carry the beers down to my place, open them, and
join Robby on the balcony. We smoke and drink the bitter beers while
talking about us and what a great time we had tonight. Finished the first
two, I get two more beers, crossing out the 'two' and making it 'four' on
my IOU note.  It's a beautiful night and we're talking easily, joking about
the girls-night-out ladies again and getting silly with things we should
have said to them and making up what they'd probably say back to us,
figuring they'd be calling us 'doll' like the funny fat lady called the
waiter. After the second round of beer we get into a hot make-out on the
balcony and end-up inside with Robby pulling my pants down and in addition
to the kinky and lover's sex, Robby fucks me standing up like Ryan does at
times. We're not into that kind of intense heat that Ryan and I get into,
but this is the third fuck of the night so that explains the heat
factor. We both have a spurt of cum for our orgasms, but it felt better
than a spurt. After kissing for a bit, Robby says goodnight around
midnight. I shower again and get in bed sexually satisfied and happy; it
was an awesome date with Robby and he doesn't need to take a backseat to
anybody. It was a three bagger. A damn good night that was full of laughs,
love and sex; who could ask for anything more.

Saturday morning I sleep until almost ten o'clock and wakeup with a smile
on my lips thinking about Robby and me last night. Laying in bed I text
him, 'Awesome date, boyfriend! Love you, Dylan.'
 Ten minutes late he texted back, 'You made it awesome. I'm in the office
with dad. See you Sunday. Love you, Rob' I wonder if there's significance
to him signing off as 'Rob'? Not being able to come up with any conclusion
to that, I get up and do my bathroom stuff, get dressed, then make a
breakfast sandwich of Canadian bacon, fried egg, and cheese on toast with
ketchup. The instant coffee sucks, but today's the day the Keurig coffee
maker comes down here from Chubby's place for a six week stay; six weeks of
good coffee. After breakfast I put in an hour of cleaning, dusting, and
vacuuming my bedroom. When it's shining I change the bedding, put a wash
load in the washing machine and then clean my bathroom recalling the time
Willie and I overhauled that dumpy motel room we stayed at. This cleaning
I'm doing is a once every two week chore that I don't like doing, but I'm
always pleased with myself when it's done. I take another quick shower in
my shiny-clean shower stall and when I'm drying myself my cell phone
buzzes: it's a text from Devon. 'I'm here but not sure of your condo,
Devon'
 I text back telling him the condo number and quickly get dressed in shorts
and a tee-shirt just in time to answer the doorbell. Not sure what to
expect, I open the door and see that Devon's alone. That surprises me
because we don't know each other that well and I half expected he'd cancel
coming completely, and half expected he'd have someone with him from the
posse for morale support. Nope, he's alone. He does the posse fist bump and
one arm hug, mumbling, "Dylan, good to see ya, man." I go, "How ya doing,
Devon?" He runs his fingers through his light brown hair, pulling it out,
saying, "Shampooed in the shower, Dylan; clean hair ready to be cut." I
say, "Well, come on downstairs and we'll take care of it. Did you decide
how you want it cut?" He goes, "Uh huh," and he takes a folded printer copy
of a picture and hands it to me on the steps, "Can you cut it like this?"
The picture shows an old favorite haircut of mine; short on the sides and
back and just long enough to comb down on top and flip up in front. I go,
"Yep, this was more popular a few years ago, but it's still a cool look if
you ask me." We're in the basement so I say, "Ya better take your shirt
off, then sit on that stool." He pulls his shirt over his head, mumbling,
"I'm a little nervous about this, Dylan. It's a big change for me, but Ray
got his hair cut real short so it's cool now. We all used to rock long hair
in Ray's posse, but I follow his lead." I ask, "Why is that, Devon. Why do
you guys follow Ray's lead and all that other stuff?" He shrugs, "I don't
know, we have since we were little kids. We grew up together and Ray's
always been the leader, he just sorta assumed that position, ya know?" I
go, "No, I don't know. Is he the toughest or something like that?" Devon
sits on the stool, and I notice he's like Ray, as he has some hair on his
chest along his breastbone, also known as the sternum. Just a little
brownish chest hair between his pecs; it looks cool and I fight off the
urge to run my fingers through it. Devon's quite slim with very pinkish
skin. Nice body, everything considered. To my question about Ray being the
toughest, he answers, "Yeah, Ray was always the toughest guy in the
neighborhood, and the wildest too, so he's our leader." I go, "Oh."


He goes, "Ray told me about taking off my shirt for my haircut and, oh
yeah, you're to call him when you're done. You hanging out with us this
afternoon? I'll give you a ride, we're meeting at Al's again." I'm combing
through his clean wavy hair. It's very fine, but there are so many hairs
that it appears to be thick and it's also very long, reaching to his
chin. I say, "Um, I can't hang out with you guys today, and why does Ray
want me to call him anyway?" He shrugs again, "I don't know, I didn't ask
him." I've got excellent barber scissors, so I'll use them first to reduce
the bulk. Combing Devon's hair forward, it totally covers his face and
extends below his chin, but not for long. The scissors crunch through his
hair halfway up his forehead, three 'crunches' of the scissors and a pile
of hair ends-up in his lap leaving him with two inch bangs. "Oh God!" he
exclaims, as I grin. Combing up a large bunch of long hair on the side,
above his ear, and "Crunch" go the scissors again, then again, and now I
can see his ear; it sticks out. Jeez, his ears stick out, unnoticed covered
in hair, but obviously protruding now. Should I say something? Too late
now, anyway, so I keep slicing through his hair around the back to the
other side. This ear protrudes exactly like the other one. I say, "You're
not used to short hair, Devon, so you may think it makes your ears more
prominent, but that's just because you're not used to seeing them; your
ears I mean." He says, "Oh, my ears do stick out like dumbo ears. I had
short hair as a kid. I don't care though, I told my girlfriend I was
getting a short haircut and that my ears stick out and she said they're
cute. She picked out the hair style I showed you." I ask, "Um, you have a
girlfriend?" He goes, "Yeah," and he reaches in his back pocket and pulls
his wallet out. He's got three pictures of him with a fairly cute
girl. "We've been going together almost two years. I'm not like Ray, who
keeps switching girlfriends." Why all this should shock me I don't know,
but it does. "She's cute, Devon." He asks, "Are you bi like Ray, or gay?"
Just like that he asks that question, and it makes me smile for some
reason. I say, "Gay," as I'm picking up the clipper, done with the scissors
for now. This is fun; cutting kids' hair is kind of a rush for me and I'm
not sure why that is. I ask, "Your girlfriend is in favor of you with short
hair?" He goes, "Definitely, or I wouldn't do it. I asked her what she
thought before I asked you if you'd cut it for me." I'm curious now, so I
ask, "How come barbers intimidate you? How's that work?" He says, "I don't
know exactly. There used to be this mean old barber all us kids went to and
he intimidated me; it just sucked. He died, but I still don't like
barbers. You I like; I don't even care that you're gay. I'm sure you're not
going to jump my bones or anything, so I feel good about you cutting my
hair." I turn on the clippers, muttering, "Thanks for the vote of
confidence," thinking that he doesn't need to give a thought about me
jumping his bones or his anything else. Lots of straight guys think gays
have a thing for every guy we see, but nothing could be further from the
truth. For example, I continually turned down Ears Henderson's offers at
Merrimack to blow me, or for me to fuck him, because I'm not the least bit
attracted to him. He's a good guy as far as a classmate goes, but I have no
interest in him, or most guys, sexually. I can be friends without taking it
past that, and that's true whether they're straight or gay.


Using the half inch guide on the clippers I cut all the hairs on the sides
and back of his head to that length, and then taper the neck hairline. He's
another kid with great hair and it looks really good after I use the
trimmers around the ears, very neat looking. Lastly I use the comb and
scissors to cut down the hairs on top to about an inch and a quarter and
blend the sides in. Rubbing in some hair gel I give the top of his head a
good massage, then comb down the hairs on top and flip his bangs up. A few
adjustments and I announce, "The new, Devon! Ready to take a look?" He
says, "Yep, I'm anxious to see how it looks." Handing him the handheld
mirror he says, "Wow, way cool, Dylan," as he runs the palm of his hand up
the half-inch hair on the back of his head, "Feels cool too, thanks, man."
I thought Devon was the cutest posse member initially and this haircut
extenuates that; his ears sticking out are kinda cute. too, as he has
smallish ears. Maybe I would jump his bones if he were gay, haha. Devon
stares at himself a bit feeling his short hair, almost amazed it looks so
good. Then he says, "Please call Ray, so I don't get in trouble. If you
don't, Ray will think I forgot to tell you." I go, "Sure, no problem," and
take out my phone to punch on his name in my contacts list. Ray answers the
second ring. "Hi, Dylan, how's Devon look?" I go, "He can tell you," and
hand the cell phone to Devon, who enthusiastically endorses the haircut,
then hands the phone back to me. Ray goes, "I told him you're an awesome
barber. Um, can you hang out with us today?" He sounds leery that I will,
and in a weird way I feel bad disappointing him, but I go, "Damn, I can't
Ray. I, um, need to get some stuff at the mall." He says, "No problem, we
don't need to go to Al's, the mall's always cool. Please be in my posse
today, Dylan, Mark won't be there because he's on suspension." Puffing out
my cheeks, what the hell, Robby and Chubby are busy today, I say, "Okay,
sure, Ray, I'll get a ride with Devon." He says, "Great, I'll see ya
there. Can't wait to see Devon's new do, too." We end the call and Devon
goes, "You're gonna be in the posse today, good deal." He seems younger
than eighteen, but I seem younger than twenty, which I'll be in about a
month. Damn, no longer a teenager. That sucks!  I squeeze the back of
Devon's neck, saying, "Yeah, I'm coming, but we're going to the mall, not
Al's." He hunches his shoulders, grinning, when I squeezed behind his neck,
"That gave me chills, Dylan, ha ha. It felt good." I brush the hair
clippings from his shoulders as he does the same from his lap and I again
think, 'He's a damn likable kid, yeah, I guess I would jump his bones if he
wanted me to, which he doesn't.


We brush the hairs off us and then he holds the dustpan while I sweep up an
incredible amount of his hair from the tile floor. It goes in the trash as
he puts his shirt on and we're off for the mall to hang out. What's the
harm, I get a kick out of Devon and Bean, plus I never know what to expect
from Ray, but he's usually unintentionally funny. To me he is anyway, but
not to anyone else I know except Ray's brother, Elliot. We don't go
directly to the mall though.  Devon drives home, a nice suburban house, and
he brings me in with him so he can show off his new haircut to his
parents. Well, I could do without this, but they're nice people and make a
big fuss over their son's new look with many thanks and congratulations to
me for an excellent job of haircutting. Just because Devon is a member of
Ray's posse I wrote him off as an oddball, but he isn't. He's a little
naive, but he has a good family life and a girlfriend, plus he's a good
kid. Ya can't judge a book by it's cover. Well, sometimes you can, but not
always. After the visit with the McCarty family we still don't go to the
mall. We go to pick up Devon's girlfriend, as she's going with us. "So is
Ray's girlfriend, and Manny's too," Devon informs me. I'm always being
taken by surprise by this crew. "Who's Manny?" I ask, as we pull up to his
girlfriend's house. "He's another one of Ray's posse, Manny Ruiz," he
says. "Oh," is what I say. Devon asks, "Would you mind sitting in the back,
Dylan, so Annie can sit in front?" I say, "Sure," and get in the
backseat. Devon goes up to the house and it's a good five minutes before he
and Annie appear. She's fairly cute, running ahead of Devon to open the
door, saying, "You're a genius, Dylan. I love Devie's haircut. It's better
than the one in the picture." I mutter, "Thanks," as Devon gets in the car
and those two kiss on the lips. She rubs her fingers up the back of his
head, as he says, "Dylan, Annie Smith. Annie, that's my personal barber,
Dylan Newman." She reaches over and we do a quick handshake, with Annie
saying, "You're, um, you're beautiful." Trying for funny, I go, "Everyone
says that," and she laughs, "Well, everyone's right then," is her
reply. Okay, she's fine.  Not all girls hit it off with me. There's a
missing chemistry between me and some girls, but Annie's not one of
them. We do a little question and answer thing like you do when you just
meet someone and you need to make small talk.  She knows and adores Dodger,
as it turns out, and she wants to know why he joined the Army. She was in
some of Dodger's classes. I tell her, "No one knows the answer to that
question, Annie, not even his brother." She says, "There's another hunk,
Rob Dickers." I go, "Yeah, I know, he's my boyfriend." Her head snaps
around to look at me, and she asks, "As in boyfriend?" and Devon says,
"Yeah, Dylan's gay. He's Ray's boyfriend too." She asks me, "Is Ray really
bisexual?" I say, "As far as I know he is." Annie's like, "Ray is so funny,
clueless, but funny and he's really a sweet kid under all his bluster. He
and Devie grew up together, like from first grade, right Devie?" Devon
goes, "Yep," and it went like that until we park at the mall. Devon and
Annie hold hands walking through the parking lot with me feeling like a
third wheel.


Inside Devon says, "Let's check the food court," so we do, and we find Ray
and his girlfriend, Maryanne, along with Jameson and a dark haired girl
who's average looking, wearing too much make-up. Stringbean's there without
a girlfriend, and a Hispanic kid also without a girlfriend. I get
introduced to Manny Ruiz who's smallish with that awesome creamy tan
complexion some Hispanics are lucky enough to have. He's got average length
black hair and big dark eyes, rosy lips and brilliant white teeth. He does
the fist bump and one arm hug with me, saying, "Nice to meet ya." Then
Devon asks, "Where's your girl, Manny?" Manny says, "It's, um, she's not
feeling so hot today, dude, ya know?" Ray goes, "Her time of the month for
her period, Manny?" he asks innocently, not to be funny or vulgar. He
doesn't know any better, that's all. Maryanne whacks his arm, saying,
"Don't be fucking crude, Ray." Ray looks at her, puzzled, asking, "Rude?"
then to me, "Come on over here, Dylan." I take the couple of steps and he
does the same fist bump, one arm hug. Then he ruffles my hair, saying, "Got
a haircut did ya? It's as short as mine. You're like Stringbean here: what
I do, you two do, too... it's cool," and his arm goes around my neck with
Maryanne looking at us oddly. Is she jealous? Then to Devon, Ray says,
"That haircut looks awesome, Devon. Don't it Annie?" She agrees, but
Jameson's rolling his eyes, muttering, "Are we all getting short haircuts
from Dylan?" Manny says, "You cut his hair, Dylan?" Devon says, "Yeah, he
gave me a haircut this morning, for free," and Manny looks at me, asking,
"How 'bout me, Dylan? Can I get a haircut?" I go, "Sure, Manny, any time."
He says, "Damn, you're a good posse member, you're bringing something to
the table, dude," and he punches my arm lightly, asking, "How 'bout later
this afternoon?" Then he asks Ray, "How long we hanging out today?" Ray
says, "I gotta be home by four-thirty 'cause my mom needs the car. You give
Dylan a ride to his house and he'll do the haircut for you. Right, Dylan?"
as he hugs my neck. Damn this submissive fetish of mine!  Ray's pushing
that button by being so confidently bossy. I take a deep breath trying not
to slip into one of those dreamy moods, and say, "Sure thing, Ray."  Manny
says, "Cool, dude, I want the same haircut Ray has." Devon asks his
girlfriend, "Do you like Ray's haircut? Maybe I should get it cut like
that.  Bean did." She says, "Their haircuts' okay, but I like your's
better." Jameson goes, "I guess I'll come with Manny, but I want Devon's
haircut, not the one Ray has." Ray's like, "That's cool, Jameson. We got
our own barber in my posse now so all we need to do is get Dawg on board
and it'll be unanimous." Bean says, "What about Mark?" Ray goes, "Fuck
Mark." I ask, "Who's Dawg?" Ray points to a kid walking towards us, "That's
Dawg right there." A tough looking kid with a dark blond ponytail is
swaggering towards us. He has tattoos on his left forearm, a stud through
his bottom lip, and those hideous black earplugs that expand the earlobes
permanently. No one will ever take this kid seriously in a normal business
environment. Other than his unfortunate body art, he's a normal looking
five foot, eight inch boy who looks about eighteen.


Dawg gives everyone in the posse, starting with Ray, the fist bump and one
arm hug, saying, "Dude" to each guy. He doesn't do it to me or the girls
until Ray introduces me as his newest posse member, then I get the fist
bump and hug, along with, "Dude, welcome." He looks like a tough guy, but
in actuality he's a quiet, soft spoken, polite kid. What a collection of
friends, all of whom grew-up together within two blocks of each other. We
roam the mall running into kids these guys know, but who aren't in the
group. I see a couple of kids I know, but for obvious reasons I don't shout
out to them. It's insane I'm hanging with these kids, and shocking to me
how immature they seem at times. I guess there's a lot of growing up that
takes place between eighteen and twenty years that's so gradual I didn't
notice it. I remember doing some of the shit these guys are doing, like
making fun of people they don't know behind their backs for laughs. The
things these guys laugh at aren't especially funny to me either, although
I'm open minded enough to acknowledge we laughed at similar things when us
guys were seventeen or eighteen. I'm probably the only one from my age
group who would find this experience interesting, but I really do. Plus,
these guys all treat me deferentially, either consciously or unconsciously,
probably because I'm two years older. At least I hope it's because I'm
older and not because I'm Ray's so-called boyfriend, which all of them know
by now because Ray's told them. Maryanne has a potty mouth that makes me
laugh because she's perfect for Ray. Both of them are clueless and they
play off one another innocence in a humorous way. I have to admire that all
of them accept that Ray's bi and I'm gay. There is very little bickering
among them like there was at the basketball game, and that's obviously
because the asshole, Mark, isn't here. While I find all of this
interesting, it's not an experience I'm likely to repeat any time soon. I
wonder if my membership to the posse gets canceled if I don't show up for a
few weeks. That's meant as a joke because obviously I don't care. I like
these dudes in a way and I like giving haircuts so it's okay for the
moment, but it has a very short shelf life. It's just I don't want to hurt
any of their feelings.


Afterroaming around for a hour or so we end-up back at the food court where
everyone is able to choose food from a variety of booths. Ray buys his
girlfriend and boyfriend pizza. At a table Maryanne and I are seated with
Ray standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders, possessively. He
asks, "What kind of drink do you want, Dylan?" I say, "Dammit, Ray, I can
get my own drink. Sit down and tell me what drink you want, you too
Maryanne." She says, "Coke for me," Ray sits down, saying, "I'll have the
same, and thanks." I pick-up my pizza slice and take a bite, "Thanks for
the pizza," and I go get the drinks. Here's my latest dilemma: none of
these guys or girls is pissing me off.  They're all likable in their own
way, and the better I get to know Ray, the more apparent it becomes that
Devon's girlfriend, Annie, is right about Ray being a sweet kid under all
his bluster. They all treat me great and my problem with that is it makes
it hard for me to blow them off like I want to do. I can't hangout with
these kids and I definitely can't be Ray's boyfriend, but I don't want to
hurt their feelings. For some reason they like having me in their posse,
but it's ridiculous of me to continue this charade. So how do I sever ties
without dumping on them? I went along with Ray's absurd
boyfriend/girlfriend thing because it was amusing at first and he fucks
good, but now that I'm deeply involved it's not amusing anymore and I don't
know how to extricate myself from this situation gracefully and without
hurt feelings. The fucking situations I get myself into! Jesus! I wish Mark
was here because then I'd have a believable reason to just drop out. He's
such an asshole no one would really blame me. I mean, I didn't grow-up with
these kids; they're stuck with each other, but I'm not. Oh man!


Taking the Cokes back to the table, Maryanne goes, "Thanks, Dylan. I was
telling Ray if you weren't gay I'd drop him like a hot potato and stalk
you. You're so sexy it ain't fucking funny." I mutter, "Thanks, Maryanne,"
and Ray says, "Well, he is gay so I win the prize. Right, Dylan?" I say,
"I'm no prize, Ray." Manny comes over and pats me on the shoulder, rubs my
hair, then sits down, asking me, "Did you take calculus in high school? I'm
wondering if I should elect it this year."  I say, "Calculus? I don't even
know what that is." Ray says, "Manny's our genius. Straight 'A's all
through middle school and high school." I look at him and the 'You can't
tell a book by it's cover,' thought enters my mind again. I ask Ray, "What
kind of grades do you get?" Maryanne answers, "He's almost as fucking
brainy as Manny," and she squeezes Ray's arm, adding, "He's my prize." Good
lord, I guess Ray was telling the truth about having girlfriends. This one
was chasing after him apparently. She says, "I had a cat fight with his old
girlfriend when she dumped him to go steady with that prep school prick."
Ray says, "I dumped her. She didn't dump me." It's impossible not to stare
at Maryanne's mustache and she almost catches me. I glance away and see
Manny grinning at me as he casually rubs his top lip. I make a face at him
and he blurts out a laugh. Ray wants to know, "What's so funny, Manny?" He
goes, "Dylan made a face at me, that's all." I'm finished with my pizza so
I say, "I gotta get going, Ray. Manny, you driving me home?" He says, "Yep,
let me get my homie, Jameson, and we'll be off." He goes over to another
table to fetch Jameson, and Ray says, "I'll pick you up about eight
o'clock, Dylan. You and me are going to the movies tonight, then we'll see
how we feel about you know what." Maryanne says, "When's it my turn, Ray?"
This is like Robby and his twin boyfriends. Ray says, "Jeez, girl, we went
out last night. Whaddaya mean, when's it your turn?"  She says to me, "It's
so hot going out with a bi boy, ain't it fucking hot, Dylan?" I deadpan,
"Like the hubs of hell," and Ray wants to know, "What's that mean?" He's
almost as smart as Manny? Maryanne pats Ray's hand, saying, "Hell is
hot. Get it?" Manny and Jameson are here so I stand, then all the guys do
the fist bump with a one arm hugs to Manny, Jameson, and me with Ray adding
an affectionate head rub for me, and then we're off. Growing up I stuck
mostly with Chubby. We had other friends but he and I were our group and
the rest weren't in it. I can see the attraction these kids have for
belonging to a group, but me and Chubby were mostly into ourselves and we
never belonged to a group, ever.  This is what these guys grew up with and
none of them wants to be excluded so they maintain the status quo, so to
speak. That's what my amateur sociologist brain comes up with at least,
though I could easily be wrong.


Manny and Jameson are very friendly, likable kids, but they're immature.
I'm immature, but seem mature compared to them. Maybe most kids nowadays
are immature and maybe it's the way our parents raised us although Chubby
and me have pretty much raised ourselves so that blows a hole in that
theory. At my condo I enjoy myself giving Manny his buzz cut and Jameson
his Devon haircut, and now everyone except Dawg and Mark have my haircuts.
Man, this is weird, and tonight's another date with Ray. I've got to make
it the last one, so now all I need to do is figure out a way to do that
without hurting anyone's feelings. Like most jams I get myself into there's
no frigging easy solution.


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


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