Date: Sun, 10 Aug 2014 20:57:38 -0400 (EDT)
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S SUMMER VACATION TWO Chapter  92

DYLAN'S SUMMER VACATION TWO


Chapter  92


by  Donny Mumford


After some really good sex, Willie and I called it a night, but not  before
he gets this crazy idea of us going to sleep with his hard cock up my  ass.
It sounded like a good idea at the time, and we did that once or twice in
Key West so, you know. Anyway, we got on our sides and he slid his cock up
my  ass and then held us together with an arm over my side. It felt good, but
I'm  not sure how long he maintained his boner before it went flaccid, or
even how  long his cock stayed up my ass because I fell asleep quickly. Now
it's hours  later and I've opened my eyes just in time to watch the sunrise.
We're not on  our sides now and his cock isn't up my ass. He's still
sleeping so I roll  against him and run my fingers through his short hair thinking
how much better  he looks with hair. The bald look wasn't a flattering one
for Willie, not that  it is for anyone actually. Laying on my stomach with my
arm across his chest,  I'm feeling seriously attracted to him again. Hmmm,
I didn't expect to wake up  still feeling the hot's for Willie like I had
last evening. Damn, this is a  very puzzling development. Before I can analyze
the situation further I go  back to sleep. The next thing I'm aware of his
Willie quietly saying, "Dylan,  Dylan, are you awake?" I open my eyes and
see his face hovering above me.  Somehow I'm on my back again. He's got a
mischievous grin on his lips, "Would  you like an early morning fuck, baby?"
Glancing at my watch I see it's only a  little after seven o'clock in the
morning. That's awfully early, but I nod my  head. He giggles, mumbling, "I
thought you might, you sex pot." Willie rolls  me over onto my stomach and gets
between my legs with his boner poking my  buttocks a few times as he spreads
my legs. Huh, he's already got a boner so  he either woke up with it or he's
been playing with himself. Willie's has a  little trouble getting his early
morning boner up my ass in this position, so  he says, "Get your ass up,
baby" and then, "SMACK! SMACK!" on my ass. I  quickly stick my spanked ass up
high. It's stinging from the quick spanking  and Willie's now squeezing my
butt cheeks, muttering, "That's better, keep  that pussy of yours held high
for me."  A submissive sense begins  descending over me making me smile as I
savor the sensation. Willie gets the  head of his cock past my sphincter
muscle with a slight hump of his hips. It  burns some so I hold my breath
waiting for it to pass and it fades away  quickly. He rubs his hands on my back,
then down my sides, murmuring, "I got  ya now, babe, don't I?"


Willie's sounding confident and in-charge again, which I have a  difficult
time resisting. A moan of submissiveness slides out of my throat,  then I
take a deep breath loving this developing situation. He begins sliding  the
long shaft of his boner slowly inside me and I quietly moan at the awesome
filled-up feeling in my rectum. Damn, it's a tight fit this morning, and made
tighter because the girth of his cock increases now that it's going snugly
up  my ass. Willie mutters, "Tight pussy this morning, baby, but I'll open
it up  for ya, don't you worry about that." The last of his cock disappears
inside me  and now Willie leans against my buttocks. I'm surprised to notice
all of a  sudden that my rectum's sore. It's different from the burning I
felt a minute  ago. I guess I shouldn't be surprised it's sore though, Willie
fucked me three  times last night and the last one was a hard fuck that went
on for quite a  while. It's just that I didn't notice I was sore until now.
Normally I'm sore  right after a couple of hard fucks, and then the next
day it's all better.  Well, I didn't do any walking after our last fuck so
maybe that's why I didn't  notice it was sore, and of course, I did go to sleep
with Willie's boner in my  ass. Ah ha, that's the culprit right there!
That's why I'm sore, but it's not  so sore I can't enjoy this morning's sex,
although I'll probably be sorry by  the time Willie's done with my pussy. Oh
well, like he said, he's got me where  he wants me now. No way is he pulling
his cock out of me until he has a hot  orgasm so I'll enjoy the ride as much
as I can.


Willie withdraws his thickening cock and slides it tightly right back  in.
He blows out air, muttering, "Tight pussy alright," and then he pulls it
back and slides it in again. He gives my ass a hard slap, "SMACK!" and then
gets going with steady thrusts. Along with my grunts all I hear now is the
,"Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap," of Willie's crotch slamming into my ass.
He's  fucking me fast and hard like he did late last night, "Slap, slap, slap,
slap," with me moaning, "Ohh, ooh, oh, aah, ooh." Willie scent is wafting
around me. It's so sexy being fucked this good and that's true even though
I'm  sore as hell down there by now. Willie going at it wildly like he hasn't
 had sex in a month. I squirm under him with fantastic sensations of sexual
 pleasure easily overriding the hurt, but it's different than pure
pleasure. Oh  man, I love getting fucked and how did I ever forget how awesome
Willie and  his nine inch boner are at this particular sex act. God, it feels
good and  another long moan slips from my throat, "Mmmmm, ooooh, oooh, mmmm,
yeah,  Willie, fuck me." It's a good ten or twelve minutes of, "Slap, slap,
slap,  slap," fast and hard with Willie grunting now and drops of sweat flying
off  his face as he works up perspiration. Then he stops with his cock half
inside  me. He gets a hand on each of my hips and lifts my ass up off the
mattress,  saying, "Keep your pussy up for me, Dylan, please. How many time
do I need to  tell you that?" My cock is so hard under me the skin is
stretched, nearly  splitting and the whole organ bulges with seminal fluid, the
head shiny with  dripping precum. Morning boners are the hardest boners of the
day. I mutter,  "Sorry, Willie, I'll keep my pussy up. It feels so good.
Mmmm, ooh, you fuck  me so good." Satisfied I'm doing what he says, Willie
slides his cock the rest  of the way up my ass, then leaves it there, and says,
"With you, Dylan, it's  easy to be a good sex partner. You're so sexy and
your ass-pussy is perfect  for fucking. The best my cock has ever been in and
there's not even a close  second." He pulls his cock back, then says, "I'm
gonna really hammer it now  and fuck a good orgasm out of you." To be sure I
keep my ass up he holds my  hips helping me do that, and then begins a very
fast rabbit fuck that gets me  moaning and squirming on the bed like I
haven't felt the need to do for a long  time.


A hefty nine inch cock sliding back and forth in my ass just the right  way
is a sexual experience I'm going to probably want to be part of again the
first chance I get. "Slap, slap, slap, slap," rings in my ears as the scent
of  sex mingles with Willie's scent and it's got my heads moving back and
forth on  the mattress with me moaning embarrassingly, and almost delirious
with sexual  pleasure sensations that actually seem intensified by the
background of pain  from an extremely sore rectum and tender anus. I feel my orgasm
coming on now  and I try blocking out the soreness in my rectum and
concentrate on the  impending explosion of pleasure. The lips of my asshole feel
hot, raw, and  over stimulated. Willie's moaning constantly as he drives his
boner back and  forth in my ass slamming into my buttocks with every thrust,
"Slap, slap,  slap, slap, slap, slap," and the pleasure overtakes the hurt
again as I moan  in a sea of sexual pleasure, "Mmmm, mmm, um, um, um, ooh
Willie, mmm, ooh,  ooh, ooh." Willie's breathing hard and fucking fast, then he
grunts, "I'm  cumming, I'm cumming, oh my God it's gonna feel so good, aah,
aah, aah...."  With my mouth wide open I squeal loudly shooting a hot
stream of creamy cum on  the sheets with my shoulders shuddering and my body
shaking. Another squeal as  short fast spurts of cum shoot out following the
first stream. Each spurt of  cum creating incredible sensations on my cock,
awesome almost painful stabs of  deep sexual pleasure that spread out around my
pelvic area and up to my  stomach and down to the inside of my thighs.
Willie keeps pile driving his  nine inches of wood up my ass while I'm savoring
the sensations twirling  around my body, dizzy with it, but it feels so damn
incredibly good too.  Willie goes, "Eeee, mmm," holding his groin against
my ass firing cum inside  me. It's warm and slippery as he gasps, "Holy shit
that felt good," then  another hump against me and a desperate whine from
Willie as he shoots a few  more shots of cum in my rectum. I feel him shaking
and gasping. Easily the  longest fuck of our date. Actually, the frequency
of our fucking over the past  twelve hours has been just about perfect. He
falls on my back rubbing his nose  back and forth at the back of my head. Out
of breath, he mutters, "You smell  so sexy, Dylan." Then he lays on me with
sweat dripping from him to me. He  kisses the side of my face, then rolls
off me with his cock pulling out, and  now the soreness is very obvious. My
rectum hurts, period, and ditto for my  asshole. Willie snuggles against me
kissing me again, muttering, "I'm fucking  exhausted. Need more sleep." I'm
laying in my own spunk and not at all sure  what time we went to sleep last
night, but we both fall back to sleep in short  order this morning, sore ass
or not. The next time I wake up Willie's not in  bed and sun is streaming
through the bedroom  windows.

I roll over  then feel my ass with both hands. It hurts inside and my anus
lips feel  swollen and sore, and to make matters worse I need to take a
crap.  Sarcastically, I think, 'That's just great!'. I hear the shower running
as I  get out of bed and stretch. Then, taking little steps, I walk almost
bowlegged  to the bathroom. Goddammit! I hate walking like a geek, but I need
to minimize  the movement of my ass as much as possible. In the bathroom the
glass shower  walls are all steamed up. Willie's inside singing a song I
don't recognize. He  seems in great spirits. Sitting on the toilet isn't
pleasant and neither is it  pleasant when the reason I'm sitting there happens,
but then with some, "Ow,  ow ow, ow," my mission is accomplished. I gently
clean my ass using first soft  toilet paper and then a warm wet washcloth that
I hold against my anus.  Grabbing a fresh washcloth I clean drooling cum
from the inside of my thighs,  sighing as I'm resigning myself to deal with a
very sore ass for awhile. I  wash my hands, then my face and look in the
mirror. Okay, maybe we over did  it, but I loved it. The shower turns off as
I'm brushing my teeth using  Willie's toothbrush. He comes out of the shower
stall smiling, and as he grabs  a towel to dry himself, he laughs, "My dick's
so fucking sore, Dylan, you  wouldn't believe it." He said that as if a
sore dick is the funniest thing  ever. He looks proud to have a sore cock which
strikes me as funny. Chuckling,  I mumble, "Sex maniac." I glance at him in
the mirror, then say, "You poor,  baby, I hope your dick feels better soon.
Don't give a thought that I just had  the most painful dump in the history
of the world, or that you fucked me so  hard and so often I'm walking
bowlegged again with my ass protruding like a  geek from a side show." He
chuckles, "Ah, walking bowlegged is always an  indicator of a good evening of sex. I
feel bad for you, but how 'bout my poor  dick. Just look at it." I look
down and it looks perfectly fine to me, so I  mutter, "It doesn't look sore,"
and he's like, "Neither does your ass." He's  drying himself, saying, "We
slept in your semen from our sex last  night, babe, it was all over me." I say,
"Look at my  back, it's your dried spunk from when you blew your load on my
back. It  itches, and yeah, mine is dried on my chest and stomach too." He
goes, "Not  for nothing, but I wouldn't change a thing about last night or
this morning."  I mutter, "Neither would I, but what does 'not for nothing'
mean?" Willie  gently pats my ass, muttering, "I have no idea," and he takes
the electric  toothbrush from me and brushes his teeth as I rinse out. I go,
"Can't wait to  get in that shower," walking with my legs spread and my ass
sticking out to  the shower stall, I turn on the water, and step under the
strong flows of warn  water coming from all five shower heads. Awesome!


When clean and  dry I find that Willie's gotten dressed sitting at his desk
checking emails.  He goes, "This guy, Mark, from Cornell sent me the first
weeks schedule at  Cornell. It looks like we'll have a lot of free time.
Freshman registration is  next week and we'll be the only students on campus
until Thursday. Looks like  mostly lectures bringing us up to speed about what
we need to do and what we  can expect during our first semester." Huh, I
remember my first week at  college and how lost us freshman were for a while.
It was exciting, but a bit  of a pain in the ass at the same time. He turns
around, "I laid out clean  clothes for you on the bed, Dylan." Glancing over
I see them so I go over and  pull on Willie's underwear. Sexy! The pleated
shorts and button up the front  short sleeve shirt are clothes I'd wear for
a special occasions, not to goof  off in all day. I put them on without a
fuss though and underneath the shirt  is a black woven leather bracelet with a
silver clasp. "What's this, Willie?"  He goes, "Oh, it goes with the
shirt." I'm like, "No presents, Willie," and he  goes, "Throw it out if you don't
want it because I don't want it either. It's  a John Hardy bracelet by the
way." I look at it, wondering who John Hardy is.  Then I put the bracelet on
and I gotta admit it's fucking cool, so I mutter,  "Okay, thanks Willie, I
think it's cool." He shrugs while I'm thinking, 'how  much could it cost?' A
thin leather bracelet, ya know? Probably imitation  leather. This little
thing doesn't qualify as an expensive gift. Looking at it  on my wrist though,
and yeah, it's damn cool.


At ten thirty  in the morning we walk into the same large kitchen where we
had the sodas last  night, which seems like a long time ago now. Willie
always packs a lot of  activities and sex into our dates. I can't believe I
forgot about the good  parts of dating him.  Willie says, "Good morning, chef
Diez. You remember  my boyfriend, Dylan Newman, I'm sure." The chef says, "Of
course I do, who  could forget a handsome lad like Dylan. How are you,
Dylan." I say, "Very  well, thank you." Willies like, "Chef, how about some eggs
benedict this  morning." The chef says, "Coming right up," and Willie asks,
"Okay if we eat  in here?" The chef begins making hollandaise sauce, "Of
course, Willie, help  yourself to coffee. Your mother and father ate earlier
and are out already.  They said they're meeting the Boltons for tennis at the
club." Willie's like,  "Oh, yeah? How were they this morning?" Chef says,
"Good. Very cheerful." Huh,  they're apparently getting along a lot better
than the last time I was here.  I'm happy for Willie. Willie pours us coffees,
and as I'm putting four sugars  in mine he gets cream and orange juice from
the refrigerator. We drink the  juice first and then the chef cuts us slices
of a French pastry he made this  morning. We eat that while drinking our c
offees, as Willie tells me. "While  you were showering I made an appointment
with a professional body piercer. He  specializes in all types of
piercing's, but nipple rings for both male and  females are the ones he does the most.
I'm paying extra because, heeding your  warning about how painful it can
be, I opted for numbing the area before  piercing. This guy is a also doctor
who does cosmetic surgery as well as the  body piercing. He's way expensive,
but he takes credit cards so I'm good to  go." I say, "I wasn't given the
option of Novocain." Willie shrugs, "Sorry to  hear that. I don't know if
he'll use Novocain or something else, and I don't  care either. Just as long as
I don't feel the needle pierce my awesome nipple  in any significant way,
I'll be happy. I know it'll be sore for weeks, but  then I'll have a cool nip
ring like yours." I shrug, "That's a bad reason to  get something, Willie.
Just because someone else has, um, a nip ring or  whatever." He goes, "I
emulate guys who are cooler than me in my never ending  uphill battle to someday
be cool myself." I mutter, "Oh brother, that's a good  one."


Along with our  eggs benedict, which are served on Canadian bacon and
halves of English  muffins, chef serves us home fries. Honestly speaking, it's
one of the best  breakfasts I've ever eaten and the chef threw it together in
ten minutes  including fresh made hollandaise sauce from scratch. When we're
done I thank  and compliment the chef and he politely replies, "You're very
welcome, Dylan,  don't be a stranger," then to Willie, "See how Dylan
reacts to my cooking?"  Willie says, "I compliment you all the time, chef." Then
both of them make a  face at each other like they've been through this
routine fifty times. The  chef, who appears to like Willie, says, "Enjoy
yourselves, boys. Enjoy your  youth." On our way to the car, with Willie holding my
hand and me walking like  a geek, he says, "We have time to get your haircut
before my piercing  appointment. Remember, we're doing this as part of our
sub/dom routine, so let  me do all the talking. I went on line to
LambdaBusiness.com where they list  gay businesses so gays can support other gays in
the community. I found a  barbershop in Framingham run by a gay barber. He
doesn't just have gay  customers, of course, but we'll try him anyway." Inside
the car he programs  the barbershop's address into his GPS and we take off.
I don't really want to  do this, but Willie's being so good during our date
so I'll do it if I have  to, but first I say, "I'm not really feeling a
haircut this morning. How about  we do it another time, and anyway I don't
really need a haircut." He looks at  me and reaches over pinching hair just
above my ear, saying, "The hair reaches  over the top of your ear and it's not
cut evenly. The sides are half as long  as the top hairs so it looks funny,
like you have a pancake on top of your  head. I didn't want to hurt your
feeling by mentioning it to you, instead I  decided I'll get it fixed. I'm sure
you don't want to start your college year  looking like that." Huh! I
thought the haircut from Sonny was cool, but I see  Willie's point too. Plus, I
can't say no to him when I've still got the hot's  for him like I do. I reach
over and squeeze his shoulder. He looks at me,  "What?" and I go, "Oh,
nothing. I just felt like squeezing your shoulder,  that's all." And I do it
again. Willie grins at me.


We find the  barbershop and then we find a parking spot on the same side of
the street a  mere block away. Willie parks, then says, "Come on," so I
reluctantly get out.  Willie's takes my hand to hold as we walk down the
sidewalk. He tells me,  "Remember, you keep your trap shut, I'll do the talking,"
then leads me into  the barbershop at the same time a man with a boy, who's
probably ten or eleven  years old, is talking to the barber. The boy has an
amazing head of wavy red  hair that he's absently playing with. The barber,
an older man, pats the seat  of the barber chair, saying, "Up you go, son."
Willie and I sit down as the  boy gives the barber a dirty look and then
slowly gets in the chair. The boy's  father tells the barber, "Richard, my boy,
Sandy, needs a back to school  haircut. He's getting a burr haircut this
time. He had his way and grew his  hair out all summer and now I'm sick and
tired of looking at him with his  ragamuffin appearance, so it's my turn to
have my way. He's not starting  middle school looking like this if I have
anything to say about it." Oh, okay,  the kids twelve years old if he going into
middle school. The boy's frowning  at his father and then defiantly folds
his arms across his chest pouting and  slumping in the chair, but he doesn't
say anything. If looks could kill  though, his old man's a dead duck. The
barber holds his thumb and index finger  about a half inch apart, asking the
man, "Like this?" The man says, "Yeah,  like that on top, but closer on the
sides and back." The old barber nods his  head and puts a tissue strip around
the boy's neck, and then a cape around the  kid. He gets the clippers and
runs them up the side of the kid's head and a  huge bundle of long red wavy
hair slides down the cape leaving a path behind  that looks like it's down to
the scalp. The kid's father is looking at a  magazine paying no attention
to the haircut. Willie, sitting next to me, is  doing the same thing. He's
reading a men's magazine paying no attention to  anything else. I'm fascinated
by the amount of hair coming off the kid's head.  He's not a particularly
attractive  boy, a little pudgy with too many  large freckles and a nose
that's two big for his face. He probably hasn't got  too far into puberty yet,
and maybe he hasn't even started, because his skin  is totally blemish free.

The barber  continues shearing hair from the poor kid's head with an
expression on the  boy's face half anger and half pathetic. The barber begins
cutting tons of  hair off the top and when he finishes the hair's a normal
length for a typical  burr haircut. Earlier it looked to me like the hair was
down to the scalp on  the sides and back, but that was compared to the long
hairs on top. Now that  it's all cut in proportion I can see there's some short
hairs remaining on the  sides, especially now that Richard's using the
trimmer clippers around the  kid's ears. He seems like a pretty good barber.
Taking the cape off the boys  neck, Richard uses a brush getting the clipped
hairs off. He rubs the  kid's crisp hair, takes the cape off his lap, and
dumps a pile of red  hair on the floor chuckling. Then, with his hand on the
kid's head, he says to  the father, "All done, dad." The boy jerks his head
away from the barber's  hand and jumps out of the chair. The father looks up,
and says, "Well, now I  have a son instead of a daughter. Thank's Richard."
As he's paying, the kid  stomps past him muttering, "I hate you," and he goes
out the door with tears  in his eyes. I feel really bad for him because
he's got an asshole for a  father. There's plenty of haircut compromises
between the extremes of the mop  top and this very short burr haircut. As the man
walks out after his son, two  young men walk in and greet the barber
sounding, well, they sound gay. I say  that at the risk of stereotyping gays. Now
the barber sounds gay himself  returning the greeting. Guess he has two ways
of speaking. Willie stands and  takes my hand leading me over to the barber
as the other two customers sit  down whispering about something, then
giggling. They're probably laughing at  me being led to the barber by my hand, but
 they're not my type anyway,  so fuck 'em. Willie tells the barber, "I want
my boy here to have an eight of  an inch buzz with a shaved outline around
his entire hairline." Richard pats  the seat, saying, "Up ya go, boy." I
look at him while smelling the back of my  wrist standing here not wanting to
do this. Willie lets go of my hand and  slaps my ass. I yelp as Willie says,
"Get in the fucking chair, Dylan." I get  in the chair trying not to pout
like the twelve year old. I'm thinking that  the haircut Willie described for
the barber is the same haircut Willie got for  me in Key West. Before Key
West he insisted we both get flattops, but Willie  reserves the right to
change his mind. He asks, "Can you use a straight razor  for the detailing?" The
barber says, "Of course. Do you want just the  outlining or would you like
me to shave a part in along the side here," as he  runs his fingernail along
the top of the left side of my head. Willie says, "I  don't know about that
yet. I'll see what I think when the haircuts finished."  Richard says, "You
got it, boss," then to me, "Sit up straight." This is  another deje vu
experience all over again for me.


Richard wraps  a tissue strip around my neck, then the cape wraps around
me. I want to say  something, to object or complain, but I don't. I'm not sure
why, I just don't.  Willie's talking to the  two gay guys about something.
>From Willie I hear  him mention Key West and my name, but not much else. The
barber asks, "Was  this a home haircut you got last time, son? Did your mom
cut it maybe?" I  blush, mumbling, "Um, no, I mean, I guess." He says,
"Your boyfriend's looking  out for you because this home haircut looks silly."
My blush deepens because I  thought it looked cool at first, now I'm glad
Sonny's not giving me another  haircut. The guys at college might have
something smart-ass to say about  Sonny's haircutting, but other guys said it looked
cool too, so I don't know  what to think. Richard rubs his hands on my
shoulders, "You're very good  looking aren't you? How old are you?" His hand is
holding the back of my neck  now and his face is very close to the side of
mine. He's making me very  uncomfortable. I gulp, muttering, "Um, I just
turned twenty." His hand  squeezes the back of my neck, as he says, "Twenty?
Don't lie to me, son. How  old are you really?" His face is still close to my
left cheek and he's wearing  a strange smelling cologne and chewing gum. He
makes mouth noises in my ear as  he breaths noisily through his nose and
wetly chews the gum. He's so confident  of himself, but who the fuck acts like
this? I kinda freeze-up, so he says, "I  asked you a question, boy. You don't
want me telling your boyfriend you've  been lying to me, do ya?" If I move
my face the slightest bit my cheek will  collide with his nose. I swallow
hard, "No, really, I'm twenty. Can you start  the haircut, please." He
straightens up and begins combing through my hair,  saying over his shoulder,
"Excuse me, but your boy here tells me he's twenty  years old. What's his real
age, maybe I'll only need to charge for a boy's  haircut." All three of the
guys laugh. Willie comes over and says to me, "Why  are you lying to Mister
Richard?" then to Richard, "He's twelve." Willie pats  the barber on the arm
smirking like they're a couple of hot shit's having a  little fun breaking my
balls. The barber smirks at me and then pats the side  of my face, saying,
"Don't pout. You're too old for that." I want to shout,  "You old fuck, I'm
not pouting!" but of course I don't. I want to get this  over with as
quickly and with as little conversation between Richard and me as  possible.


Willie goes  back to his talking with the two gay guys, his back to us.
Richard says to me,  "I'm just having some fun teasing you. What's your
boyfriend's name?" Before I  can answer he has my chin in his hand moving my head
to the right and then the  left looking at something on my head. Still
holding my chin, he says, "Cat got  your tongue? I asked you what your boyfriends
name is." I frown, unable to  look him in the eyes. He shakes my head a bit,
disgusted with me I guess, but  I managed to mutter, "Willie." Ruffling my
hair roughly, he whispers with fake  amazement, "Ah, he speaks," then with
his hand on top of my head he calls over  to Willie. "Excuse me, Willie, I've
got a suggestion. Come here a second."  Willie looks interested as he gets
up and walks over, "What have ya got for  me, Richard?" The barber points to
a model in a picture on the wall, saying,  "A fade haircut, like that one.
That's what this cutie will look hot with.  I'll use the trimmer clippers on
the sides, pretty much down to the scalp, but  only half way up the side,
and the same for the back, and then faded the hairs  a little bit longer the
further up the side and back I go. I'll do the top  shorter than in the
picture, but not as short as you said you wanted it." They  discuss my haircut
as I sink further into a submissive state. It feels good in  this trance and
the barber's mouth noises as he noisily chews his gum doesn't  faze me
anymore. They haggle over the length my hair will be on top until the  other two
guys call out, "Today, Richard, finish the kid's haircut sometime  today."
Richards calls over to the guys, "Patience! I'll take time to get your
haircuts right too. I needed to see what this guy wants for his boy." One of  the
guys dismissively waves at Richard, as Willie goes, "Okay, whatever you
decide, your the pro here." Willie goes back to resume conversing with the two
 gay guys, and they lisp comments back at him. They're apparently
interested in  Willie's and my relationship. The barber seems mostly interested in
me. He  grips my bicep through the cape, then goes, "Oh, nice biceps. Hey,
don't pull  away! I just talked your dom into a better haircut than he had in
mind for  you. You should thank me." He's standing right next to me with his
thigh  against mine, and while still gripping my arm he points at the
picture on the  wall, and asks, "What do you think? Pretty sweet, huh?" I gasp,
"Un huh," and  he chuckles letting go of my arm and rubbing my head again,
muttering, "You're  cute as a button. It's Dylan, right? You'll look even
hotter for your  boyfriend with that haircut. How long have you been his boy?" I
don't answer  so Richard chuckles again for some reason. Fuck him.


You'd think it  would have occurred to one of them to ask me what I wanted
for a haircut, but  on the same token you might expect me to simply speak
up. I can't though  because somehow this experience has dominated me
completely and I like the  submissive trance I find myself in too much to risk
shattering it. Anyway, the  fade haircut is, in fact, super cool. I couldn't cut
hair in a fade though. It  requires quite a lot of clipper technique that I
simply can't duplicate. The  barber begins using regular clippers with a low
numbered guide taking the hair  on the sides and back down close and then he
gets another clipper to take it  down even more. shit, I've never had a
haircut with so  much clipper work going on for so long. I'm observing the way
he's doing it by watching him work on my haircut  in the mirror. I don't
believe I've ever had hair that's been cut this short  on the sides. After I
say that he uses the trimmer chippers half way up the  sides taking the
already short hair down to the scalp. So  the twelve year old kid didn't actually
have his hair taken down to the scalp  like I thought at first, but now I'm
the one who can claim that distinction.  Even so, when Richard's done it's
the coolest haircut I've ever had, and it looks good on me too. It's not like
I haven't seen  guys with this type haircut because I have, but I think
this dink of a barber  is more talented than the barber the other guys went to.
Richard takes the  strip of tissue from around my neck and drapes the cape
doubled over in my lap. Then he uses a brush on the back of my neck and
across  my forehead. He takes the cape off and shakes the hair onto the floor
where  blond hairs joins the pile of red hairs. I start sliding out of the
seat, but  he puts his arm across my chest, saying, "Whoa there, twinkie.
You're haircuts not done." I look at him defiantly, and he sternly  says, "Sit
back down! I'll tell you when I'm done," and I feel my dick shrivel  instead
of firming up. That occupies my mind as I sit back making sure I'm  sitting
straight with my shoulders back. Did my cock shrivel up  because the old
barber's being stupidly stern with me, and I'm the customer  and therefore not
expecting his stern treatment? I became submissive to him in  either case,
but that usually gives me a boner. He's also been doing  inappropriate
touching, but he's repugnant to me so instead of arousing me the  reverse
occurred. Normally dominant behavior gets me aroused, but I don't feel  sexually
aroused by this man at all. Funny combination of reactions that I  don't recall
experiencing before this.


Richard puts a small towel across my  shoulders and wipes warm shaving
cream around my ears and across the back of  my neck. With a straight razor he
shaves a barely visible outline around my  ear, then drags the razor at my
neck's hairline in back giving me chills and  making my shoulders shudder.
After my other ear has been outlined, he drags  shaving lather across the
hairline at my forehead and etches an outline across  there. Using the little
towel, he wipes off excess shaving cream and then  picks up a bottle of after
shave lotion and drips some in his hand rubbing his  hands together.  With a
hand on each side of my head he drags his hands  along my head until they
meet in the middle at the back of my neck. Lastly he  drips more lotion on his
hand and uses both hands to rub up my forehead into  my quarter inch hair,
which is all that's left of my bangs. The after shave  lotion smells good,
but stings a little on the shaved areas. He gets a  hairbrush and brushes my
hair on top until my scalp tingles. With a hand on  each of my shoulder he
calls over to Willie, "Okay, boss, we need your  approval." Willie walks over
and checks around my head, then says, "I like it,  Richard, good job."
Richard says, "Your boy has wonderful hair to cut," and  with his hand under my
chin, holding my head up, he adds, "You've got a beauty  here, boss.
Congratulation." Willie gives Richard a disapproving look,  probably because the
barber is much too touchy/feely with me. Taking my hand  and pulling me up,
Willie goes, "Come on, Dylan, get down from there." I get  out of the chair
smirking at the barber, stupidly thinking, 'Willie's here, so  just try some
of your dominant shit now." Then, shaking my head, I'm pissed at  myself
because I don't need Willie sticking up for me. Damn, that submissive  stuff can
be humiliating when brought on by a stranger. This was nearly as bad  as
the last time Willie took me for a haircut... almost, but not quite. That
time I regressed in age and was in a deep, deep submissive trance. Still,
thinking about my behavior and knowing it's been embarrassingly inappropriate,
I don't dare catch one of the other gay guy's eyes, or the barber's. I look
down as Willie pays. I'm concentrating on the positive, which is this cool
haircut. All's well that ends well. That's not always true, of course, but
it  sounds good.




































































































































Finally we're out of the barbershop walking towards the car with my  rear
end finally feeling a little better. Willie's got his arm around my neck,  so
my arm automatically goes around his waist. Pulling my head over he kisses
the side of my forehead, saying, "Oooh, you smell good!" meaning the after
shave I suppose because that's all I can smell. He asks, "How do you like
the  fade haircut?" He was obviously oblivious to the barber's behavior with
me in  the barber chair, so I try clearing it from my mind. I'll never again
see any  of the people in that barbershop again, except Willie. He didn't
see me  sitting there like a nerd letting the old guy maul me. I say, "I
seriously  think this haircut is awesome." He goes, "Me too. How do you think it
would  look on me?" I shrug, hugging his waist, then say, "You'd look good
with any  hair style." He mutters, Thanks, babe," and kisses my lips right
in front of  three teenage boys who are loitering in front of a sub shop. One
of them goes,  "Euuu, gross me out," but I'm thinking Willie didn't even
hear him. Much of  the time Willie hears what he wants to and the rest is just
noise blowing in  the wind as far as he's concerned. Willie's mood last
night and today has been  the happiest and most carefree I can ever remember
seeing from him. That makes  it relaxing for me too, although I miss the
submissive sensations the old  Willie and his outlandish behavior would routinely
create in me. Those random  trances were mostly unintentional on his part,
but my dick used to enjoy the  moments quite a bit. The new Willie is a much
better version although lacking  most of the dominance he used to exhibit
routinely. Do I prefer the old Willie  or the new? He was the first boyfriend
who put me into delicious submissive  trances, but there was a price I
needed to pay for that. He'd do crazy things  that created humiliating
circumstances for me along the way to my submissive  trances. It wasn't intentional
on his part, as I've said, he was just being  his normal narcissistic self.
He's different now being more considerate and  nicer. He still wants to be in
charge, but without being as self centered as  he used to be which
eliminates a lot of his dominance. Many of the things that  used to embarrass the
shit out of me in public, I now do without thinking  about it one way or the
other. Things like the way we're walking right now, or  someone holding my
hand in a restaurant, or calling my ass a pussy. They don't  bother me because
over the years Willie's desensitized me to that sort of  thing.
Desensitized me to what strangers might think about me and that allows  me to be myself
and to hell with them. I, in turn, have desensitized Robby to  those types
of things and we're happier gay lovers because of it, so I owe  Willie for
that.

During the ride to his piercing appointment Willie reminisces happily
about our date last night and this morning and the four sexual episodes we
packed into it. I mostly listen while thinking that this date has caught me up
on missed sex during the past week and only Willie is able to do that..
well,  Ryan could too. There were submissive moments on this date, but only
about a  fourth of what I would have experienced in the old days, which brings
me back  to the question of which version of Willie do I prefer. Not that it
matters  because Willie's going to be the way he wants and he obviously
prefers his new  self. Overall I do too of course, but I do miss some aspects of
past  experiences we've had together. We arrive at the address of Willie's
professional body piercer and into the building we go hand in hand.
Willie's  nervous and I can understand that, but I wonder how nervous he'd be if he
was  going to this body piercer with the possibility he'd be getting a PA
in his  dick like me in New York. I wasn't sure what lay ahead of me while
Willie  knows he's getting his nipple numbed before the one-second piercing.
That's as  long as the actual piercing takes. Inside the office the
receptionist has a  form for Willie to fill out and then we sit in a waiting room
with others for  half an hour before a nurse calls his name. Willie takes my
hand to come with  him, but the nurse puts an end to that, saying, "The
doctor's insurance only  covers patients, Mister Worthington, so your, um, friend
will need to wait for  you here." Willie starts to argue, but I say, "No
problem, Willie, I'll be  here if you need me." He reluctantly goes with the
nurse and I sit down and  pick up a magazine to read. A rather goofy looking
young guy with a little  ring in one nostril, asks, "Are you two gay? I
couldn't help but notice you  guys holding hands when you walked in." Who the
fuck would ask that question?  I say, "Yeah, we're gay boyfriends, why?" He
says, "Nothing, no offense, I  admire your guts for being who you are and fuck
it if everybody else gawks at  you." I say, "It's not like we're saying fuck
you to everyone. We hold hands,  what's the big deal?" He mutters, "Dude, I
was giving you giving you a  compliment. I wouldn't have the balls to do
that, that's all I'm saying."  Looking at him I see he has pretty eyes. I go,
"Oh, thanks. Are you gay?" and  he's like, "Hardly, but if I were I wouldn't
have the guts to hold hands with  a guy. I'm straight, not that I've ever
done anything to prove it or validate  it." I nod my head and go back to
reading my People magazine thinking about  this poor bastard who has never had
sex. Jesus!


Willie returns with a huge smile on his face. He goes, "A piece of  cake."
Standing, I ask, "Why'd it take forty minutes for a one second  procedure?"
Willie goes, "I sat around in a little room for most of it." As  we're
leaving, without holding hands this time, he adds, "Then I got a tiny  needle of
something to numb my nipple and fifteen minutes later a nurse wheels  in a
cart with medical stuff on it, a doctor comes in and a minute later he
shakes my hand and that's it." In the car he pulls up his shirt to show me his
nip ring... his sore looking numb nipple looks just like mine did right after
 the piercing. "Cool," I say, and we go to lunch. At lunch Willie talks
about  his 'operation' as he calls it. He makes it seem like he got an arm
amputated  without benefit of ether. I let him live his moment while I enjoy his
 exuberance. He's a happy kid which makes me happy for him. Later he's
going  out to dinner with his mother and father. I think back to the nastiness
of his  father's letter in Key West and his mother's response to the letter.
She was  more interested in sticking it to her husband than supporting her
son, and now  they're finally becoming a family of some sort. I'd like to
think I helped  Willie get to the place he finds himself in now. If I did, I
feel good about  it even as I miss the other Willie a little. At my condo,
Willie asks, "Are  you sure you can't stay with me tonight, Dylan? I'd love to
spend my last  night before college with you." I shake my head, "I can't,
Willie. I haven't  seen my boyfriend for days now. He's laying in a hospital
bed bored to tears  and I want to try cheering him up." Willie says, "Well,
you really cheered me  up, that for sure. Give me a kiss." I lean over and
Willie puts his hand  behind my head and we have a one minute wet kiss with
lots of tongue involved.  It gets my dick's attention, for sure. There's no
denying Willie is a sexy guy  and he knows how to push the right buttons with
me. After the kiss he ruffles  by quarter inch hair, without hardly moving
it, then mutters, "I love you so  much, Dylan. Please visit me at Cornell and
definitely email me when you're  going to be home from college for a
weekend so I can arrange to be here too."  I go, "Uh huh," and he kisses me
quickly again, saying, "Until then, I hope  you're as happy as you've made me.
You're very special." I mutter, "You too,  see ya later, Willie." I get out and
walk around the front of his car. He  calls out the window, "If you change
your mind about tonight, just hit me with  a text and I'll be right over to
pick you up." I wave, "Okay, Willie, bye for  now." He waves and pulls away.


I'm skipping up the steps, still conscious of my sore rectum, but it's  not
nearly as sore as it was after our early morning sex, and it's improving
by the minute. Great recuperative powers in the rectum apparently. I'm
feeling  good over all, sexually satisfied with a cool new haircut, and not a care
in  the world. Well, none I want to think about now anyway. In my condo my
mom is  still in her bathrobe drinking coffee and talking on her cell phone.
Probably  to Tris who she spends ten hours or more with every day, but yet
they never  run out of things to say to one another. Mom opens her eyes wide
when she sees  me. She's pointing at my head, or my haircut more
accurately. She's smiling  brightly making the circle with her thumb and forefinger
indicating she likes  my new do. Just to be sure I got the message, she gives
me a thumbs up too,  then blows me a kiss. I go over and she tells the
person on the other end of  the line, "Dylan just came in with a very cool new
haircut." I kiss her on the  cheek, mouthing, "Thanks," meaning for her
endorsement of my haircut. In my  bedroom I check myself out again, smirk, and
then shoot my reflection in the  mirror with my finger because I'm looking
pretty damn good even if I do say so  myself. Flopping on my bed I call Robby
and his cell phone rings in some  unknown place. Yeah, I just remember he
doesn't know where his cell phone is.  Damn, this is inconvenient, but I call
his mother's cell phone and instead of  his mom answering, Robby does. It's
musical chairs with his mom's cell phone.  He says, "Hiya, boyfriend. Whatcha
been up to?" I say, "We're not suppose to  talk about our side sex and I
won't, but I was with Willie Worthington last  night. Just want to be up front
with you, Robby." I told him I was with Willie  last night, which doesn't
imply I spent the night too, but it could mean that  and therefore it doesn't
qualify as a little white lie. I'm trying to cut down  on those damn things.
Robby goes, "Jesus, I haven't heard that name for  months," and I go, "You
probably won't hear it again for quite a while either  because he's leaving
for Cornell University tomorrow. How you  feeling?"


Robby tells me he feels okay except he can't pass the damn concussion
test. My little true confession about Willie slid by easily because I didn't
make a big deal out of it by trying to justify myself with some
rationalization. And adding that little tidbit about Cornell was genius. I'm  not trying
to deceive Robby so much as I don't want him needing to give it a  thought.
It's just buddy sex between an old buddy and me. I don't know why the  hell
I've got the hot's for Willie again, but it doesn't matter because he's
gone to a university in New York state, so him and me having another date any
time soon is very unlikely. I ask Robby, "How's your hottie of a roommate
doing?" Robby laughs, "Hottie, my ass. He was a black guy who's a defensive
lineman for his college football team, which is to say he's basically fat
and  way big and tall. Dejon was not a hottie in any sense of the word as you
and I  know that word. He was a good guy though and he got to leave the
hospital this  morning. He passed the concussion test." I mutter, "He probably
studied harder  for it than you." Robby chuckles, mumbling, "I hope you're
kidding about  that." I go, "Of course I am, what do you need to do in order
to pass the  test. Walk a straight line, touch the tip of your nose with your
finger, stuff  like that?" Robby says, "I believe you're thinking of a
sobriety test. This is  a neurological exam interested in my balance,
sensitivity to light, memory and  concentration, reflexes, and shit like that." I ask,
"What do you do during  the exam?" He says, "The doctor reads me a list of
words or numbers. When he  finishes I need to repeat as many of them back to
him as I can. Then he wants  me to recite the months of the year backwards.
There's test for balance and  reflexes and everything like that. My balance
and reflexes are okay, not  perfect yet, but okay. It's the memory and
concentration they're concerned  about."

Robby apparently got a good laugh from the get well card the guys at  work
sent him, and he reads me some of the wise-ass stuff we wrote on his  card.
I ask if I can visit him and he talks me out of it with the same logic  as
before. That logic being a fifteen minute visit isn't worth a two hour  round
trip drive to Worcester. I ask, "So, you're probably going to get  released
tomorrow, right? Do any of the test have anything to do with sex? Any
restrictions in that area, I'm just curious." He laughs, "Um, no, that hasn't
come up." I go, "Really? Huh, it'd be the first thing I'd ask about. Okay,
we'll wing it and see how it goes. I hope after we have great sex you can
remember it, ya know?" He laughs, "You're too much, Dylan. I love you!" I say,
 "I love you too and miss you something terrible. If you get out tomorrow
will  you go to work Monday?" He says, "That's yet to be determined." We talk
for  another half hour until Robby says his ear is getting sweaty holding
the cell  phone against it. I tell him my mom can talk on the phone for two
hours  straight, and he says she's had more experience and has therefore
built up  cell phone tolerance. We hang up with me having an uneasy feeling
about this.  It's like I feel helpless and powerless to do anything for Robby
and I want to  do something so badly. Sending flowers or a fruit bowl would be
silly and we  already sent a get well card. I don't know what else to do.
Fuck it, I'm going  to drive up there anyway.


I text Chubby, 'Where are you, bro?' He texts back, 'I'm  just finishing up
work. Leaving in the next twenty minutes.' I text,  'Good! You and me are
going for a drive.'  Chubby texts, 'Whatever you say, bro, I got your back.'
Just like that. He doesn't even ask where we're going. That's the kind  of
best friend and brother everyone should have. Well, there's nothing I need
to do to get ready that I can think of. I showered this morning at Willie's,
 but oops, I'm wearing his clothes and, dammit, I left my clothes in his
bedroom. Oh well, it's a even swap as far as a one shirt and one pair of
shorts for my shirt and shorts, but when we get into value, it's don't work
out too well for Mister Worthington I'm afraid. My stuff cost one-fifth what
his cost, not that he cares one bit about that. His shirt and shorts I'll
use  as dress clothes for special occasions. I change into my own clean casual
 shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, but leave Willie's underwear on because
it's  sexy as hell wearing another guys underwear, hee hee. I'm such a perv.
Checking myself out again I look down at my wrist and remember my new thin
braided black leather bracelet with the silver clasp. This thing is so damn
 cool I'm definitely wearing it. The bracelet looks like maybe it cost
twenty  bucks, but I know Willie probably paid more than that for it. Still, it
doesn't look expensive so I'm good to go as far as wearing  it.


Walking back into the living room my mom's off the phone. She asks,  "Did
you have a good time with your friend last night, Dylan?" I sit down and
tell her, "It was nice seeing him again. We ate dinner at this place in
Framingham called 'Dino's Italian Cuisine'. It's a smallish restaurant... oh,  our
waiter is a friend of a friend of Robby's. He gives us special service."
Mom says, "I know the place. It features real Italian food. Tris and I have
eaten there with the twins. What's the waiter's name?" I say, "What else,
it's  Tony." She grins, "What else did you do?" I go, "Well, Willie's parent
are on  the rich side and they built this athletic area behind the house for
him years  ago. Basketball and tennis court plus a swimming pool. Big pool.
We played  basketball and swam and talked, that sort of thing. Oh, and their
chef made us  eggs benedict this morning. Really delicious." Mom lifts my
wrist and looks at  my bracelet. "Um, where'd you get this, honey?" I'm like,
"It's just a simple  imitation leather bracelet, braided or something with
an aluminum clasp."  Which doesn't exactly tell my mom where I got it so
much as describes it for  her, as if she can't see it herself. Turning my wrist
she looks at the clasp,  mumbling, "JH. This is a John Hardy braided
leather bracelet, not imitation  leather, but real leather. It's beautiful and the
clasp is silver." Boy, I'm  glad I didn't say I picked it up at the mall
for twenty bucks. I go, "Huh! I  didn't know that. Willie said it was too
small for his wrist so he was going  to throw it out." She looks puzzled, "This
cost at least two hundred and fifty  dollars, honey. He was going to throw
it out?" I go, "That's what he told me."  And he did say that, but I made up
the 'too small for his wrist' part. I  mumble. "He's rich, mom. They don't
live like us." She says, "I shouldn't  think so. I think your friend wanted
to give you a gift and knew you wouldn't  accept it if you knew what it cost
so he said it was fake leather with an  aluminum clasp. John Hardy makes
expensive classy men's jewelry." I say,  "Yeah, it is classy looking alright,"
then I ask, "How are you and Tris  getting along with your twin boyfriends?"
Mom goes into this long explanation  of how the twins are backing off on
the marriage talk because marriage scares  some men. She adds, "Or, we think
maybe since they do everything together one  doesn't want to get married if
the other isn't getting married." This takes us  far away from discussions
about expensive black leather braider bracelets,  which is why I asked the
question about the twins in the first  place.


Mom and I talk until Chubby bops in all smiles, bubbling with good  cheer.
Chubby and I hug and do a quick as a wink Dickers brothers' kiss on the
lips that mom doesn't see, not that we care if she does.  Chubby says he  just
came from his condo and his mom's out of the shower so my mom excuses
herself and calls Tris again. Probably can't wait to tell her about my John
Hardy bracelet. Chubby says to me, "Another new hair style I see. It's  very
cool." I mumble, "I wanted a different look," and he says, "All your  'looks'
work, bro. You're the style guru of Framingham. Where we going?" I  tell him
and he says, "Okay, lets go. Hey, should we take Robby something?" I  go.
"Yeah, I was trying to think what to surprise him with and I just now  thought
what it should be. Robby loves Godiva dark chocolates. He loves those
things." Chubby drives us to the mall and inside we run into Bean and Devon
coming out of Macy's carrying bags of clothes they just bought. Me, Bean, and
Devon do the posse greeting from habit and they seem genuinely happy to see
me. Devon does the cheek rub during the hug and it's kinda nice. He smells
good too. Both of them have had some form of sex with me at one time or
another and maybe they want more because they say, almost at the same time,
"Can I come over for a haircut?" Then they look at each other annoyed with
one  another, as I shrug and ask, "Back to school haircuts, guys? Sure, when
do you  want to come over?" Devon looks at Chubby, and I'm not sure if
they've met so  I introduce both boys to Chubby. Bean says, "How about this
afternoon for my  haircut?" I go, "Sorry, but we're on our way to see Robby in the
hospital,"  and I fill them in on the accident. Bean says, "Rob's a hell of
a baseball  player, I hope he'll be okay" and Devon says, "Yeah, say hi to
Rob for us,  and, um, can I come over tonight, Dylan?" I say, "I'm not sure
what I'm doing  tonight, Devon. I'll text you later, okay?" Then I ask, "No
date Saturday  night, Devon?" and he says, 'Annie's got some kind of a
family responsibility  tonight, we went out last night." I know Chubby's got a
date, so I go, "Ya  know what, tonight is probably going to work, Devon. Lets
say seven-thirty  unless I text you otherwise." He goes, "Great," and gives
me some kind of a  'look' that I can't decipher, then he adds, "Maybe we can
hang out after my  haircut, if you're not busy." I say, "Sure, probably.
Have you guys been  shopping for back to school stuff?" They both say, "Yeah,"
and Bean adds,  "We're big shot seniors now." I go, "Well, good luck with
that. We gotta get  going, see you tonight, Devon," and he does the posse
goodbye giving me a hug,  muttering, "I'm looking forward to it." Bean just
waves, and says, "I'll call  you next week about the haircut and, guess what,
none of us are getting Ray's  goofy burr haircuts." I go, "They're not goofy,
but whatever you want is okay  with me."


As Chubby and I walk towards the Godiva store, he asks, "Are either of
those guys gay?" I frown, muttering, "Nope, not that I know of, they just like
free haircuts." He says, "They really like you, that's obvious, especially
the  good looking kid." I leave that alone, only mumbling, "They're all good
guys,  except Ray's weird, I gotta admit." Chubby mutters, "Glad you
finally figured  that out," and I defend Ray a little, "He's not as weird as you
think, Chubby,  you don't know him so don't judge." He goes, "Okay you're
right, I don't know  him very well. What I do know of him is weird though, so
until I find out  differently what am I suppose to think?" We're the only
ones in the Godiva  store except a young woman behind the counter talking on
her cell phone. Woman  seem to make more use of their cell phones than men.
Chubby looks at a box of  chocolates, and goes, "Jesus H. Christ, this box of
chocolate, with, um,  sixteen measly pieces is twenty-five dollars. I go,
"It's quality chocolate,  brother, and worth a dollar fifty a piece." He
laughs, "How come you never  bought me a box then?" I mutter, "I don't know. I'll
get you a box for  Christmas." The box Chubby looked at is exactly the one
I want. Assorted dark  chocolate candies, but only sixteen pieces is pretty
skimpy. I look at the box  with twenty five pieces and see it's priced at
thirty-six bucks, so fuck that.  I take the smaller box to the counter and the
lady says into the cell phone,  "Hold on a second, dear," and to me, "Is
this all we can get for you today?"  Well, she didn't get me anything
actually, but I let it slide and nod my head  dropping a twenty dollar bill and a
five on top of the box. She rings it up on  the cash register and puts it in a
fancy little bag with handles. I say, "This  is a gift," she looks at me a
second, then stuffs a tissue paper on top of the  bag. I guess that's their
gift wrapping. Walking out of the store I tell  Chubby, "Robby's going to be
pretty freakin' happy to get  this."


On the way to the car Chubby points out a guy and a girl, saying,  "That's
Rex and Diana. There in Mary Jo's crowd." I say, "I met some of the  stiffs
in that crowd when we went to the Paw Sox game. I don't need to meet  more."
Chubby turns the tables on me, and says, "It's not fair of you to judge
someone when you don't really know them." He smirks at me, so I say, "What I
know about them is that they're boring, so until I learn differently what am
I  suppose to think?" He says, "See?" and I go, What?" He laughs and
squeezes my  hand. I love him. Chubby drives us towards the parking lot exit, as I
say,  "Look at all these fucking cars, Chubby. Any day of the week, at any
time of  the day, there are always tons of cars here. You'd think people
would  eventually run out of things to buy." He said, "We didn't," and we hear
a  metallic sort of pinging sound. I look out the window and see one of our
hub  caps rolling beside the car. "I go, "We lost a hub cap." Chubby like,
"A hub  cap?" then he slows up to wait for oncoming traffic to pass, as the
hub cap  rolls on heading straight for an older woman carrying two bags. She
hears it  and looks up, then freezes like a deer in the headlights as the
hub cap is  rolling on it's edge right for her. "Chubby goes, "That fucking
hub cap's got  good balance." The woman shrieks a little as the hub cap runs
into one of the  bags hanging from her hand. I'm laughing as Chubby backs up
and drives over to  retrieve the hub cap. The woman's pissed off, "That's
very dangerous, young  man," Chubby gives her a 'look' then says, "The hub cap
has a mind of it's  own, ma'am. It comes off whenever it wants, but it's
got damn good balance  wouldn't ya say?" She goes, "Balance?" Chubby gets out
to pick up the hub cap.  She stands there like a dummy, as Chubby lies,
"Many thanks for stopping this  thing. Once I had to walk a mile to get it when
it came off while we're going  down a big hill." She says, "I couldn't care
less about a fucking hill or you  walking a mile," and she turns and struts
off. Chubby doubles over laughing.  He gets in the Jeep, and says, "She
couldn't care less about a fucking mile,"  I go, "Yeah, I heard." Shit like this
always seems to happen when Chubby and  me are together. We don't know why.


We're going seventy miles an hour in a sixty-five mile an hour speed  zone
on route 93 when a guy merges onto the highway right in front of us going
about fifty miles and hour. Chubby slams on the breaks laying on the horn for
 a few seconds. The guy in front flashes us the finger as Chubby passes
him.  The nitwit roars up the highway to get right behind us and starts
tailgating  us at seventy miles and hour. We hate tailgaters, and this is
happening on route 93 which is three lanes in both directions so if the  guy wants
to pass us he just needs to go faster. Chubby says, "Why  doesn't this
asshole just pass me?"  I mutter, "Because he's a asshole."  Chubby begins to slow
down assuming the guy will get frustrated, but the guy  still won't pass
and he slows down still tailgating two feet behind us. Chubby  sputters, "I'm
not giving this prick the satisfaction of pulling over," so he  increases
his speed back up to seventy miles an hour again. This is about the  minimum
speed anyone drives at on route 93. Chubby's in the right lane and now  he
pulls to the left into the middle lane and so does the other guy,  tailgating
us again. I say, "It's fun playing games in cars going seventy  miles per
hour. Very mature behavior." Chubby yells, "I'm not doing anything!"  I say,
"I was referring to dick-weed behind us." I look back and the guy  appears to
be in his thirties maybe. Chubby tries speeding up in the middle  lane and
even hitting eighty in the passing lane, but mister shit-for-brains
continues tailgating. Chubby mutters, "He apparently took offense at me  blowing my
horn at him." I go, "Pull over to the breakdown lane and stop. If  he pulls
in behind us we can get out and discuss his poor driving habits with  him."
Chubby says, "I hope to God this toad pulls in behind us, I'm gonna kick
his ass." Chubby makes his way from the passing lane to the middle lane, then
 to the right lane and then onto the breakdown lane. The tailgater doesn't
follow us onto the breakdown lane. Instead he drive by us screaming
something  and giving us the finger, naturally. How childish! We act mature and use
both  our hands to return his salute with four of our own, then for good
measure we  do the universal jerkoff sign with a loose fist. He speeds away
passing  everyone.


Chubby rejoins the highway, as I'm saying, "It's hard to win when  you're
dealing with a reckless individual like that, bro." He says, "Yeah, I  know,
but it pisses me off I had to pull off the highway." I mutter, "Better  than
being part of a ten car pileup." A mile down the highway we see a
beautiful sight. Chubby goes, "I'm getting a boner looking at this." On the  side of
the road is our nemesis pulled over by a state trooper. He was flying  when
he took off after giving us the finger. Chubby is in the right lane so we
coast by laughing our asses off giving him the finger again, and then the
jerk  off sign. The cop's back is to us, but I can see the rage in the man's
face as  he sees us laughing and mocking the shit out of him. The guy totally
loses any  cool he had and starts screaming at the cop. Now I'm watching
them in the  outside rearview mirror. The cop pulls the guy out of his car and
the last  thing I see is the asshole facing his car with his hands on the
roof and his  legs spread. I say, "That's a first. How many times have you
said, 'where's a  cop when you need one?'. That is so fucking awesome!" Then I
fill Chubby in,  "The guy started screaming at the cop so he might even
windup in jail." Chubby  goes, "Gee, I wonder what got the guy so upset that
he'd scream at the cop?" I  go, "I can't imagine. You don't think us driving
by mocking him had anything  to do with it, do you?" Chubby says, "I sure as
shit hope so. That made my  week, the word awesome doesn't do justice to
this  situation."

We find the hospital, but we can't find a parking space. "Who do all  these
cars belong to?" Chubby mutters, "Did all the patients drive themselves  to
the hospital?" I point at a spot one aisle over, yelling, "Someone's
pulling out in the next aisle!" Chubby gets to the vacant spot as another car  is
speeding towards this spot. "Too bad, sucker," Chubby mutters, as he parks.
 It's a good hike from where we're parked to the entrance to the hospital.
We  go in and it's like Grand Central Station. Lots of people milling around
and a  line in front of the information desk. We get at the back of the
line and ten  minutes later it's our turn. I ask, "What room is Robby Dickers
in, please."  She stares at me a second, then plays with her computer and
says, "Room 509,  but visiting hours aren't until seven o'clock." I look at my
watch and see  it's five minutes after six. Not good. I turn to Chubby,
"Lets get something  to eat," and he's like, "In here?" As we're walking away
from the information  desk, I say, "Yeah, in here. You wanna leave and then
try getting a parking  spot during visiting hours?" He goes, "Dylan, we're in
a fucking hospital  where lots of sick people are spreading more germs then
we even know exist.  Eating here isn't the ideal environment for fine
dining." I mutter, "Since  when did you become a germaphobe?" He goes, "I'm not,
but would you eat dinner  in a bathroom?" I go, "Nope, but the hospital
cafeteria isn't a bathroom. Come  on, we have an hour to kill."


The hospital cafeteria smells like a school cafeteria... maybe all
cafeterias smell like that. I can't pinpoint the smell or describe it except  maybe
it smells like tomato soup, some kind of soup. We order cheeseburgers  and
fries. The cheeseburgers were cooked sometime ago and come wrapped in foil
from a warming tray much like fast food burgers. I try one of the fries and
discover they're soggy. Chubby says, "Yum, germs and shitty food." It's
busy  in here so it seems a lot of people have come to grips with the germs
involved  with eating in a hospital cafeteria. Two doctors wearing scrubs are
just  leaving their table as Chubby and I are looking for an empty one, so we
sit  down among their left overs, pushing their mess to the side. Halfway
done our  tasteless food a busboy comes around and takes the mess left by the
doctors  and wipes the table. I put the box of chocolates in my lap, then
Chubby and I  lift our trays so the kid can wipe under them. He's an Hispanic
kid with  skinny wrists and he's also extremely good looking, but not
communicative at  all. I try for some dialogue, asking, "Have you been working
here long?" His  big dark eyes glance at me as he shakes his head, but says
nothing. I get a  good look at him close-up though so it isn't a total loss.
Beautiful skin tone  with handsome almost perfect facial features and a dark
peach fuzz mustache.  He has awesome dark brown hair cut short in a fade
very much like mine, so I  try again, asking, "Do you mind if I ask you where
you get your hair cut?" He  doesn't even glance at me this time, just gives
the table one last swipe with  the sponge and moves on to the next table.
Chubby chuckles, "Your charm and  good looks didn't have much of an effect on
that kid, Dylan. A rare strike out  for you, huh?" I mutter, "I can't imagine
what you're talking about. I was  just interested if he got his haircut in
the same barbershop as I did." Chubby  says, "Oh sure, he drove from
Worcester to Framingham for a  haircut."


I think about that kid and me kissing with his peach fuzz tickling my
upper lip. I'll bet he smells good too. Chubby chatters on as I fantasize  about
the busboy, and then another good looking guy in scrubs stands by our
table with a tray in his hands. I look up, and he asks, "Mind if I share your
table with you?" I shake my head, mumbling, "Not at all." He sits down,
asking, "You guys visiting someone?" He has a bowl of something that might be
chili, a Styrofoam cup of black coffee, and a roll. "Yeah, were here visiting
 my boyfriend," I tell him, and he goes, "What's wrong with him?" I tell
him  Robby has a concussion, and then I ask, "Are you a doctor?" He eats a
spoonful  of whatever it is in his bowl, and says, "I'm an intern. I have a
medical  degree, but not a license to practice medicine unsupervised yet." He's
good  looking without anything especially standing out except his voice.
Very  youthful boyish voice that probably won't serve him well as a doctor.
Chatty  guy though, he says, "I read where Justine Bieber booked a $250,000
seat on  Branson's Virgin Galactic space shuttle?" Chubby says, "Oh, does he
want to be  the first person to get booed in outer space? Is that it?" The
intern laughs,  and says, "Hey, he's shown some bad behavior this year, but he
a  multimillionaire as an eighteen year old so, ya know." I ask, "Are you a
fan  of the Beeb's?" He says, "I'm a fan of his looks and body, yeah, but
don't  tell anyone because being gay and being a doctor is a no-no, although
I'm not  gay, for the record. Oh, and the Beeb's can sing and dance a little
too." I  don't know if he's gay or not now, not that it matters. Chubby
says, "Ya know,  from this moment on your lies are your life," and the intern
laughs again,  "Oh, you figured me out. Huh?" Chubby's goes, "Um, no," and
the intern says,  "Google has single-handedly cut into my ability to
bullshit." Well, I don't  know what that means either. Chubby drinks some soda, then
says, "Yeah, I hear  ya, doc, but I don't know, I'm getting the feeling your
breathing helium and  I'm breathing oxygen." The intern laughs, "It's just
intern humor I'm laying  on you guys." He talks in circles a little more and
when he's done his chili  and roll, he stands up, and says, "Great sharing
a table with you guys, but I  gotta run," and he's off with me muttering,
"Yeah, likewise." Chubby goes,  "Twilight zone material right there. How'd ya
like to have him deciding life  or death for you?" I go, "He's damn good
looking so, ya know,  maybe."


We finish our food and then join doctors, nurses, and interns outside  the
front door smoking cigarettes. Chubby mumbles, "It's good to see all these
medical professionals smoking. I guess that rumor about smoking being bad
for  your health is overrated." A nurse steps on her cigarette butt, and says
to  Chubby, "No, it's true, we just don't give a shit." Doctors and nurses
in  Worcester are a tough bunch apparently. We kill time walking around the
grounds with me bitching, "This heat is gonna melt Robby's chocolates."
Chubby  says, "Lets go inside and see what's involved in visiting someone."
Inside  again, I mumble, "We know his room number, what the hell else do we
gotta  know?" Chubby points to a sign that indicates we need to check in at the
front  desk for a visitor's pass. I mutter, "Oh, that's just plain stupid,"
and we  stand in line at the front desk. When we get to the front desk an
officious  woman tells us, "You need to be at least eighteen to visit a
patient without  an adult." We don't argue, just show our license IDs and she does
something  with her lips, like she's tasting something unpleasant. She taps
some  information into the computer, and says, "He's suffering from a
concussion,"  as if we didn't know. She hands us a time stamped pass, telling us,
"Only  fifteen minutes. Return the pass after your visit." We walk away
with Chubby  mumbling to me, "I hope she doesn't hold her breath waiting for us
to return  this piece of paper." It takes us fifteen minutes to find and
elevator, wait  for it, and then go down one wrong hallway after another until
we're right  back at the elevator. Chubby says, "We're not intelligent
enough to find this  room on our own, we'll need to resort to the unthinkable."
I ask, "You mean  just leave?" He says, "Nah, ask somebody." I mutter, "I
hate doing that."  Chubby stops a orderly who informs us we took the wrong
elevator. This is the  pediatrics section. What the fuck? We go back down to
the main floor and walk  around until we find another bank of elevators.
Chubby says, "I'm not asking  again so this better be it."


Up we go and find the room right away this time. I go in with a  big smile
on my face and Robby's face lights up. Damn, that's nice! "Dylan,  Chubby!
I'm glad you didn't follow my advise." I go over and lean down and we  kiss a
nice kiss with a little tongue. Robby rubs his fingers through my hair,
muttering, "Another new hair style?" I go, "No, I've had this before. Remember
 spring break?" He goes, "Oh yeah, it's, um, cool." When I straighten up,
Chubby asks, "Is it okay if I just bump fist, boss." Robby grins, and says,
"No, you need to kiss me, I've got a fucking concussion." They bump fist,
with  Chubby asking, "How ya doing, Robby?" He goes, "I'm bored to tears.
Luckily my  roommate likes sports so we've been watching the Red Sox game.
They're up two  to nothing over Tampa Bay." The curtain's closed between the two
beds so I  don't get to see the roommate. The TV is on the wall so both
beds have a clear  view of it. Robby wants to hear about work so we tell him
some funny things  that happened while he's been in here. He tells us about
hospital life.  Yesterday he wanted to take a shower in the hospital and how
his old roommate  didn't flush a huge dump, so Robby had to flush it, but the
room was basically  contaminated by the unpleasant odor. He leaves the
bathroom, feeling dirtier  than when he went into it. He's going to let the air
clear the room. His old  roommate, who's responsible for the smelly dump in
the toilet, asks if Robby  changed his mind about the shower. Robby tells
us, "The thing is, with a  concussion you tend to forget things and I didn't
want to embarrass the guy so  I never told him he left a toilet full of shit
behind him, but it was gross."  We nod our heads and go, "Huh." Ya know,
it's funny that when we're together  normally we don't have any trouble
communicating, but visiting Robby like this  it's like I run out of things to say
or ask. Chubby senses this and tells a  few jokes and I remember to give
Robby the candy I'm holding, which is a big  hit. I get another kiss and the
three of us talk about our preparations for  our apartment at college while we
eat the entire box of chocolates. Chubby  says, "I feel dizzy," as he eats
the last one.


A nurse comes in to check on Robby and sees the pass I dropped on  Robby's
covers. She looks at it, and frowns, "Who's is this?" she asks. Chubby  and
I look at each other, and she says, "Did you get visitor passes?" Robby
says, "They just got here." She laughs, "Right. Your visit's over guys. This
pass was stamped an hour ago. I'd like to be there when you turn this into
the  wicked witch of the east at the front desk." We say goodbye to Robby,
then I  say, "I meant to ask, are you coming home tomorrow?" He says, "Oh yeah,
it's  definite. I found out a little while ago. I can take the test at my
own  doctors. I'll see you at home tomorrow afternoon." I feel better knowing
that,  and I'm still glad we took the effort to see him tonight too.
Outside the room  Chubby makes a ball of our visitor's pass and dumps it in a
trash bin as I  call Devon. He answers, saying, "I'm at your front door, Dylan.
Are you in  there?" I say, "I'm so sorry, but I forgot, Devon. I'm in
Worcester visiting  Robby. It'll take me an hour to get back. Dude, I apologize.
We didn't know  the visiting hours, so we had to wait over an hour to see
him." He says, "Is  it okay if I try again at eight-thirty?" I say, "Absolutely
and I'm really  sorry." He says, "It's okay, it's only a ten minute drive.
I'll see you at,  lets make it eight-forty-five. I say, "Great. Thanks for
understanding."


Walking to the car I explain how I forgot about Devon's haircut and  Chubby
goes, "Oh man, I gotta call MJ too, I'm suppose to pick her up at  eight."
While he does that I'm thinking that we're a couple of air heads  tonight.
And then I think, 'I wonder why Devon is so anxious for his haircut?  This
might bode well for me, or am I in for something I'm totally not  expecting? I
hate when that happens'. Chubby's off the phone. "She's cool, no  problem.
Let's get on the road," and that's what we do.


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



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