Date: Sun, 7 Feb 2016 11:57:09 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME  Chapter  10

DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME



Chapter  10



By  Donny Mumford



When  we're back at the condo we go to my bedroom, with Frankie telling me,
"Time to  get completely naked." Not being shy about getting naked, I
mutter, "Sure," and  with a mischievous grin Frankie adds, "Believe it or not I'm
horny as a toad  again." Then he smacks my ass, adding, "I probably should
be rougher with you or  you'll get bored with me." I mumble, "Don't get
ahead of yourself, Sport," and  he's like, "I was wondering about something.

It's like this: Larry told Louis  you were uber submissive to him and doing
what you were told. How come you're  not submissive to me?" Before I can say
anything, he quickly adds, "And that's  not a complaint, Dylan. I have no
complaints. This has been my best sexual  experience ever. I'm just curious
about the submissive thing." Huh, guess he  didn't recognize the two or three
little submissive trances I slipped into  earlier. Like now! He's doing the
undressing routine on me again. He holds the  bottom of my T-shirt, saying,
"Get your arms up." I lift my arms and he takes my  shirt off, then starts
unbuttoning my cargo shorts, saying, "How 'bout that  question, Dylan? Why were
you submissive to my cousin, but not with me?"  Kneeling, he's pulling my
underpants down, looking up at me, saying, "Step out  of your shorts."
Frankie's not shy, I'll give him that. By taking my clothes off  before he
undresses himself he could be acting deferential to me by undressing  me like a man
servant, or maybe he's being dominant, or even arrogant, or maybe  he just
doesn't know any better. I'm going with the last  'maybe'.

Then  he does something most guys would consider way over the top. While
standing up  he takes hold of my flaccid cock and pulls on it leading me over
to the stool.  Still holding my cock he grins, saying, "You're not going to
answer my question,  are you?" Ignoring that, I ask, "Do you ever kiss
before sex?" He makes a face,  saying, "Noooo, do you?" Then again, before I can
answer, he butts in, "Oh yeah,  that's right. I remember Larry telling Louis
you loved making-out with him. I'm  sorry, but that sounds gross to me." I
push at the hand holding my dick, but he  grins and holds on tighter, as I
say, "I've already told you Larry's a lying  mother-fucker. He kissed me, I
did not kiss back!" Frankie nods his head, "I  believe you because he's still
a lying mother-fucker. Do you want to kiss me, is  that it?" Pushing at his
hand again, I mumble, "Let go of my dick and I'll  answer your questions."
He shrugs, dropping my cock that was beginning to feel  good in his hand.

Rubbing his shorn head, I go, "No, Frankie, I don't want to  kiss you, and
yes, sometimes when 'bottoming' I feel a submissive sense during  sex." He
says, "But not with me, right?" I mumble, "That's not entirely true.  And now
it's your turn to get undressed." Smirking, he pulls his shirt over his  head
and changes the subject, asking, "Have you ever docked cocks?" I'm like,
"Cock docking? Ya know I did do that once, but I can't remember with  who."
Frankie's  pulling his shorts down, saying, "Jesus, Dylan! Have you had so
many sex  partners you can't remember who you docked with?" Making a face at
him, "Don't  be absurd, Frankie. I haven't had that many sex partners. How
could I? Robby and  me have been boyfriends for over three years." He
chuckles, then absently takes  my cock in his hand again, this time squeezing my
nuts with his other hand as he  says, "Well, heh heh, you're having sex with
me and we've only known each other  two days, so going with your boyfriend
for three years apparently doesn't mean  shit. Does he know you cheat on
him?" I wave my hand dismissively, "None of your  fuckin' business. And what
about you? You say you've only been with two sex  partners, and that's bull
shit! You're way more experience than you pretend. I  mean, for one thing, cock
docking is a fairly obscure sex act." He's squeezes my  dick and my nuts,
saying, "No it isn't. Me and Toby Cornhiser did it when we  were thirteen.

Did it a lot, but except for that and jerking each other off,  that's all we
did."
We're  both naked standing next to the barber stool that's on its side. He
lets go of  my nuts and strokes my cock, "Well, what are you waiting for,
Dylan? Pick up my  cock and stroke it. We need to get semi-hard because
docking works better that  way." I take his cock in hand, a cock that looks very
much like mine except he's  been circumcised. I go, "Be honest for once,
Frankie. How much sex are you  getting?" He chuckles, "None of your fucking
business, as you said to me a  minute ago." Staring at him with my eyebrows
raised, he laughs, "Okay, I'll  admit I'm getting a little more than I may have
alluded to earlier. I'd  forgotten a few experiences from high school, and
anyway I was describing my  recent sex life, like this summer so far. And why
do you care anyway?" His cock  feels good in my hand and I like standing
this close to him, face to face. He  has pretty eyes. I also like looking at
his quarter-inch buzzed head and  remembering how my dick felt when I was
running the clippers through his long  hair. I go, "Ya know, you look so
different with this short buzz cut, but that's  to be expected. What I didn't
expect is you getting nastier the more we get to  know each other. What's up
with that?"
He  strokes my cock tightly a few times, then says, "I'm not nasty! It's
just that  I'm being more aggressive with you hoping to see a little
submissiveness.  Hearing how submissive you were with Carl was the sexiest part of
eavesdropping  on his phone conversations. I told you earlier I got boners
listening to him  describe what he made you do. I fantasized about that many a
night in  my junior year while whacking off." Our cocks are fairly firm now,
so Frankie  lines up our pee slits and pulls my foreskin over the head of
his cock, then  closes his fist at the docking point. I go, "Mmmm, fuuuuuck,
that's hot." Our  conversation peters-out as he strokes from the root of my
cock to the root of  his. It's gets hypnotic watching his hand slide from my
cock, over the docking  area, and along his cock until the side of his fist
is partially buried in his  pubic hairs, then his fist comes back towards
me again. The third time he does  it my cock sizzles with sexual sensations
and my hands go to his shoulders as I  go up on my toes, "Aaaah, jezzzus,
oooh."
Acting  pleased with himself, he says, "I'll bet you shoot off before I
do," and he does  three quick long strokes back and forth on our docked boners.

My hands grip his  shoulders tighter as I go up on my toes again leaning my
head forward, "Oooh,  oooh," then suck on my lips. Now he does slow steady
stroking, stroking,  stroking; both of us grunting as sensations from our
cocks grow stronger and  stronger. My eyes stare at his fist as it travels
along our docked, very hard  boners. The big dorsal vein in both boners are
visibly blue and protruding now  that our cocks are flooded and almost
overflowing with erectile fluids.  Stroking, stroking, stroking as Frankie and me
grunt, moan, and gasp. Our  foreheads are touching now as we both stare down
at his moving fist. We share  mutual arousal and quietly groan and moan as
sexual arousal deepens, his fist is  moving as rhythmically as a metronome.

Our foreheads and noses slide together,  face against face, then our lips
touch and his tongue goes in my mouth. Oooh,  the stroking, stroking, stroking
of his warm smooth tight fist back and forth on  its relentless
orgasm-inducing twelve-inch trip to and fro. It feels incredibly  good, mind boggling
good, and then too soon the climax train comes roaring up to  the station for
both of us. Our lips squish together as our bodies gets stiff  and I hold my
breath with my climax coming, coming, coming. Then it's Frankie  who goes,
"Ahhhhh," humps his hips and his load of creamy warm slippery cum  covers the
head of my boner just as my orgasm explodes. There's lots of drooling  cum
at the docking point that's drip, drip, dripping to the floor. Our cock
heads are covered with warm creaminess, and the sexuality of it's so intense my
 body shudders and our cocks undock. I grab mine and stroke-out follow-up
spurts  of cum that fly into Frankie's pubic hairs while his squirts of cum
splatters on  my belly button and drool down to the back of my hand as I
squeeze out the last  drops of semen from my nuts. Oh my god, that was one of
the strongest climaxes  I've ever had.

Gasping,  our nuts empty, we lean against one another, then a quick tight
hug before  separating. "Fuuuck, that was hot, Dylan... oh man, hot flaming
balls!" and he  bends over with his hands on his knees taking a few deep
breaths before gasping,  "It's okay to kiss when docking," as his head comes up to
look at me,  asking, "Did I mention that?" I'm frowning at him in a daze
with sensations  still flying around my groin, the sticky head of my cock
still sizzling with  pleasure. Ignoring his silly question, I go, "No fucking
way should that be so  sexually hot, but it was! Damn that was awesome!" I
stroke my cock again as a  small twinge of pain shoots around my nuts, probably
caused by the force of the  cum shooting up and out from those misshaped
balls. Frankie stands-up now,  putting his arm across my shoulders, asking,
"How'd ya like that?" He slides his  arm up and gets his hand behind my head,
pushing it forward, "C'mon, suck it,  Dylan." I gladly bend over and suck
his cock into my mouth, doing it the way  two-inch-Timmy does it. I like
sucking a young guy's dick, so as I stuck his  sloppy cock I slowly go down on my
knees to do it  properly.

Three  minutes later his cock, amazingly, is hard again and he smacks the
back of my  head, "Doggy style, Dylan."  When I drop down to my hands and
knees he  gives my ass a mighty, "SMACK!!" then mounts me, shoving his cock all
the  way up my ass and fucks me hard for five or six minutes with both of
us gasping  out moans of sexual pleasure. It's five or six minutes of
ecstatic sexual  sensations from my over stimulated anus and prostate. "Ooooh," as
my back  arches, my hips hump and out flies a three inch shot of clear spunk
that leaves  me trembling, then another and my head drops to my forearms on
the floor.  Standing behind me he's tight against my ass humping my butt
cheeks unloading  his small orgasm into my bowels. Frankie pulls out right
away, backs up and  falls over the stool he knocked over during our earlier
oral sex. Laughing, he  untangles himself from the stool, yelling, "Stupid
fucking  stool!"
Picking  up the stool, he plops his ass on it, asking, "You okay, down
there?" I'm still  on my knees with my forehead on the back of my hands
continuing to savor my  second orgasm in a ten minutes span. Slowly lifting my head,
and then sitting  back on my ass, I go, "Dude, your nuts generate a lot of
spunk and your cock  bones-up fast after you've climaxed!"  He goes,
"Whaddaya mean?" Standing  unsteadily, I say, "You've got the staying power of a
much younger dude, is all  I'm saying. You sure you're not fourteen or
fifteen?" He goes, "Bull shit. You  climaxed every time I did, and I already told
you that tonight's the best  fuckin' sex I've ever had, and twice as much as
I've ever had in one night."  He's wrong of course because the first time he
shot his load up my ass it  happened before I climaxed so he's one climax
up on me. Still it's been good  buddy sex. I'm walking into the half bath
talking over my shoulder, "You've got  a talent for sex, Frankie boy." He joins
me in the bathroom, and as I wash my  ass he washes his dick, hands, and
face, in that order, then says, "You bring  out the best in me. I'm totally
spent now though. My nuts are empty." We walk  back to the basement, get
dressed, then go upstairs and out on the  balcony.

We're  lighting cigarettes as Frankie asks, "Well, what do you think,
Dylan? Was our  buddy sex hot enough for ya? Do you want to hook-up with me again
sometime?"  Huh, that's good question. With the back of my hand to my nose
I'm thinking that  the climaxes tonight were good, the cock-dock climax was
awesome, but there's  something hindering my appreciation of our sex. I
finally say, "Yeah, you're  hot, Frankie. The thing is, I can't believe you're
not getting plenty of sex  already. You sure seem experienced and I can't
figure out why you'd lie about  it." He holds his hands out to his sides like
he's exasperated, yelling, "I'm  not lying! How many times do I gotta tell
you that?" Then calmer, he adds, "Or  maybe we need to define what, 'plenty of
sex', means." I shrug, "No, it's  alright, you don't need to explain
yourself to me. That was my bad. Buddy sex  doesn't need to be explained. I
shouldn't care how much sex you're getting." And  I probably wouldn't care if he
wasn't the cousin of fat Carl and he hadn't  overheard whatever it is he
overheard. Maybe it's not that's there's 'something'  preventing me from fully
enjoying sex with Frankie, maybe it's just me thinking  that Frankie knows
more about me than he should. I mean, I'm different now then  I was with Carl.

Yeah, but to what degree? Fact is, by now I can't remember a  lot of
specifics from back then, that is except for a couple of especially  unpleasant
incidents that stand out. Mostly it's an overall sense of how  horrible Carl
was as a person. I need to get over that because Frankie's not  remotely like
his cousin.

Smoke  drifting from his nose and mouth, Frankie goes, "Well, just so you
know, I think  you're a spectacular buddy sex partner, and thank you for
tonight. And for the  haircut too." I say, "You're welcome for the haircut but
you flatter me more  than I deserve in the other category." Then I need to be
honest about it,  adding, "It was a sexually satisfying night for me too,
Frankie, so I return  your compliment." He exhales more cigarette smoke as
he's saying, "Thanks, but I  sense you have some hesitancy about us hooking-up
again." Shrugging, I mumble,  "Um, I don't know. It's like I'm having a
hard time getting past the oddness of  you being Carl's cousin. It's kind of
freaky knowing you heard all that shit he  told Louis. And I know I really
shouldn't associate what happened between Carl  and me, with you and me. It's
just that you might have some wrong ideas about  me. I guess that's the
bottom line." He goes, "Look, I'll be twenty years  old next month, I can form my
own opinions without relying on what I heard that  asshole say about you
three years ago. Back then hearing him describe how  he totally dominated you
was titillating for me as a novice seventeen year  old, but that has almost
nothing to do with the here and now. Forget I ever  mentioned it, will ya?"
I mumble, "Yeah, you're right," and he adds, "I'm hoping  we can hook up
again sometime, that's my bottom line." I go, "Yeah, we should,  I'm
over-thinking this. I tend to do that with everything." He grins, "So?" and  I say,
"So, we'll hook up again sometime. You'll be getting haircuts, and you're
hard to resist, right?" He chuckles, "Well, it appears a lot of guys have had
no  problem resisting me so far." I do a little laugh, and he goes,
"Actually, I  hardly know any gay guys, that's my main problem. I figure next year
I'll try  the gay bar scene." I go, "Good plan." I won't be following that
plan myself  though. I mean, assuming things keep falling into my lap like
Frankie boy here,  why would I need gay bars?
We  talk about our high school experiences for a while. Frankie was in the
band  as a clarinet player and I tease him claiming clarinet players are all
gay. He  tells me flattering things about articles I wrote for the school
paper and  goes into more details about his stalking me when he was a junior.

We get Cokes  and talk about our sexual activities tonight. I rub his
buzzed head a few  times and every time I do it he rubs my head too, and it's a
good relaxed  time with some laughs. He has a cute grin and sexy lips. That
kiss we had while  docking cocks was hot! It's getting close to nine o'clock
when I say, "You  should really experience more kissing with your sex.

Kissing another guy is  extremely intimate and sexy." He leans his head over and
brushes his lips across  mine, murmuring, "I kissed you when we were docking
cocks." Standing right in  front of me with our noses almost touching he
pulls the zipper of my cargo  shorts down. His fingers go inside my fly as he
says, "Get my cock out, we're  docking again," and I actually gasp. He said
that so sexy-like. Staring into his  eyes I unzip his fly and use two
fingers to pull his cock  out.

Frankie  rubs his nose against mine, than murmurs, "Bend over and suck my
cock."  When I do that my flaccid cock hangs down from my fly dangling in the
night's  warm breeze reminding me we're outside on the balcony. So what? I
take his cock  in my mouth, my nose close to his fly with his stale body
odor now seeming kinda  sexy to me. I suck his cock until it's again firm and
he says, "That's good,"  and his hand cups my chin pulling my head up. He
bends over and sucks my cock  that's already firm from me sucking his. Frankie
straightens up now, grinning  at me as he takes my cock, lines up our pee
slits, then slides my foreskin  over the head of his cock like earlier. I'm
holding my breath, very aroused for  the fourth or fifth time tonight. He
strokes with his fist one, two, three times  and my cock gets very hard. His
other hand reaches behind my head pulling it to  his and he gives me a very
sexy wet kiss with his tongue moving on mine. Oh  fuck! It's so hot! His fist
keeps stroking, stroking, stoking as his tongue  slides on mine with me
closing my eyes, once more moaning with sexual pleasure.  My arms go around the
back of his neck as sensations sizzle at the head of  my cock. He continues
stroking, stroking, stroking, his fist just the right  tightness to slide
sexily over our docked cocks creating sensations that are  unique. It plays
with my mind knowing our pee slits are looking at each other  and touching.

I've  totally lost track of time as I hug around his head keeping our faces
squished  together and the sensations from my pulsing boner and the sexy
way Frankie's  kissing me makes me dizzy with sexual pleasure, a dreamy
pleasure until I gasp  into his mouth, the sides of our faces sliding together as
we're both doing  little humping with our hips and finally, "Ahhh, oooh,"
from both of us as  little spurts of cum shoot from both our cock at the same
time. The head of my  cock is so fucking sensitive by now, and I guess
Frankie's is too because he  takes his hand away and we hug each other breathing
hard into each other's ears.  Gasping and humping against each other we're
both shaking for a few seconds  before doing a tight hug and letting go.

After a deep breath, I mumble, "I  thought you said you were spent." He shakes
his head, "That was forty-five  minutes ago," then he laughs, "This is
fucking insane, Dylan." I mutter,  "Just a little, yeah." He chuckles, "My fucking
dick is so sore." I go,  "Mine too," and we laugh, but we're still facing
each other with our nose almost  touching as we're looking into each other's
eyes. He says, "Kissing was okay.  You're right about that. Um, with you
anyhow," and we kiss with his hand going  to the side of my face. It's kind of
a sweet kiss as opposed to a hot  arousing one.

Pulling  our heads away a little bit, I murmur, "You taste good," and he
starts to say  something but one of our cellphones' buzzing interrupts. That
breaks the  mood and we step apart, both taking our cellphones out. Frankie
mutters,  "It's a telemarketing 800 number." Glancing at him, we both divert
our eyes  maybe feeling we overdid it. I mean, we're not nearly tight enough
to be having  all this sex together, and that last sweet kiss was puzzling.

Lighting two  cigarettes I pass one to Frankie, saying, "You're what's
known as a 'hottie',  Frankie." Like he can't believe I'd say that, he goes,
"ME? It's you!! Jesus,  you've got me making out now. I never kissed a guy
before." We start joking  around blaming each other for our over-the-top
sex-a-thon tonight. It's so weird  too because I was thinking something's missing
and yet I can't remember too many  times having four and almost a fifth
orgasm in such a short period of time.  Plus, I was exhausted just four hours
ago. It's almost nine thirty now and just  when I'm about to ask where
Frankie's friend is, his cellphone rings  again.

Frankie  answers with, "Dude, wassup?" then he listens. Looking at me, he
mumbles, "its  Andy. He says he's parked at the curb below some condos on a
hill above him, but  he's not sure it's your place." I go, "Sure sounds like
it. Let's look out the  front window and see if he's at the curb." We both
flick our cigarette butts,  mine sailing nicely over the railing, but
Frankie's hits the railing with a  smattering of red sparkles from the lit end. He
says, "Shit!" and I go, "What a  spazz!" He kicks it off the balcony floor
muttering, "Sorry," with me grinning  to myself. Walking through the house
Frankie says, "My dick is so fucking sore  it hurts when I walk."  I look out
the front window and see a car idling at  the curb. "Does Andy drive a green
Volkswagen?" He says, "That's him," and we do  the one arm hug routine with
pats on each other's backs. That's a far cry from  our embracing during the
second cock-docking fifteen minutes ago. "Thanks,  Dylan, it's been super
real. I'll text you." I see him to the door, "Great  getting to know you,
Frankie, and you look good with that buzz cut." He yells  back over his
shoulder, "I know, thanks again!"
I  watch him go down the steps thinking to  myself, his widow's peek screws
up the look of his buzz cut. Closing the door I flop down on the sofa
trying to sort out how I feel about  tonight's sexual activities. It wasn't a
BAM! situation for me, although it was  building towards something. No shot
over the moon except for the cock-docking,  and maybe that's because that was
new. Frankie fucks pretty hot though, and he's  basically a good guy. If only
his last name wasn't 'Denton'. That's not fair of  me of course, but it's
just that Frankie's hard to pigeonhole. He's not really  cute per se,
although I kinda like his looks and his slim body. Ah ha, he didn't  have a
noticeable sexy scent though! That might be it. Yeah, but he needs a  shower
smelling sort of stale. My olfactory glands work overtime evaluating a  guy's
sexual desirability. His missing scent could be what's lacking. But next  time
he might be fresh, recently bathed and then have a sexy scent too. Who the
fuck knows? I'm thinking it'll probably be like a Sonny or Bean thing,
meaning  after a haircut we'll mess around, but no regular hook up. That'll
probably be  all it amounts to between Frankie and me. Damn, that docking was hot
though. If  he texts me I might hook up with him. Why not? In fact I hope he
does text  because he seemed to be getting sexier and more desirable the
more we did  it.

Getting  off the couch, I go into my bedroom to lie on top of the covers
intending to  watch the last three innings of the Red Sox game, and then take
a shower. Next  thing I know I'm waking up with my clothes on, the Red Sox
game was over long  ago, and outside its pitch black. I fell asleep, and I'm
still tired. Taking off  everything but my boxer shorts I turn off the
lights and the TV, get under the  covers and go back to sleep thinking Frankie
was maybe hotter than I'm giving  him credit for.

The  alarm goes off Tuesday morning and I leap out of bed to take a quick
shower,  checking to see if my dick's okay as I'm walking to the bathroom. It
was tender  last night but it seems fine now. When I don't take a shower
the night before it  makes for a hectic morning, but I manage. Ready for work
I go into the kitchen  where Chubby's waiting with my take-out coffee ready
to go. We do a hug as  Chubby's saying, "We're a little short on time this
morning so we'll have our  cigarette after changing at work, okay?" I nod,
and as we go out the door I tell  him about me falling asleep watching the Red
Sox game, and he says, "Yeah, a lot  of that's going around lately. The Red
Sox put you to sleep because they can't  hit, especially with men or base.

They can't hit for shit." We talk about the  Red Sox all the way to work.

After parking, I take the lunch Chubby made for us  and put it in the correct
cooler. When I turn around there's Matt, grinning and  saying, "Good! You
remembered." We bump fists and walk to the locker room  together talking about
yesterday, with Matt saying, "I thought you did very  well for your first
day, Dylan. If I could mention one thing though, it's your  attitude. I'd ask
you to try showing less attitude towards me and have generally  speaking a
more positive attitude over all. Okay? That's my major concern with  you.

Your attitude." I force a laugh, mumbling, "I don't know why you think I'm
giving you 'attitude', or that I'm negative. If I am, it's totally
unintentional. Everyone says I have a good attitude." He pats my shoulder,  "Okay,
it's probably me misinterpreting some of your expressions when I'm giving  you
corrective criticism. I'm on your side, buddy," and another pat on my
shoulder as we go inside the locker room with him going one way and me the  other.

As  I'm changing into the company t-shirt and shorts, I tell Chubby, "Your
buddy,  Matt, thinks I'm giving him attitude and I'm negative" Chubby
frowns, "Really?  Maybe he was kidding around," I go, "Nope, he's serious," and
Chubby mumbles,  "He takes things too seriously sometimes," then, more upbeat
he adds, "He told  me he really likes you." I shrug and leave it at that,
but either Matt's too  sensitive or he's intentionally misrepresenting my
demeanor on the job. He has  to know Robby and I are boyfriends because everyone
else knows. Maybe he's a  secret homophobe. In any case I'm not worried
about what the boss thinks. I'm  pretty sure Robby knows I'm a team player and
a hard worker even if Matt doesn't  see it that way.

Tuesday  plays out pretty much like Monday, except Matt and I work with the
walk-behind  mower all day. He doesn't like the diagonal pattern I create
on the lawns with  the mower, so I do it his way and the rest of the day he's
scrambling to find  something he can constructively criticize me about.

After work Robby will  be finishing-up the appraisal with his dad. Something
about heavy earth moving  equipment needed for the spring project. During the
ride home Chubby invites me  to join him and Matt after dinner watching
summer league basketball games. I  beg-off for two reasons: one, I don't want to
socialize with Matt, although I  probably should, and two, Ray might be
playing summer basketball and I don't  want to see him. What I tell Chubby is I
need a night to chill out and do  nothing. It's been a hectic five days
since getting off the plane from Georgia.  The truth is I've never caught up on
the missing sleep from last Thursday night,  then again Sunday night with
Robby and me in my bed until after two o'clock in  the morning. Hey, maybe
Matt is misinterpreting me being tired as a bad  attitude. I haven't been real
jolly either day at work.

Chubby  and I make dinner together in his condo. Barbecue half chicken
each, with French  fries and corn on the cob. Then after dinner he takes off to
pick up Matt and I  go to my place to chill out. As much as I'd like to
chill out tonight, Bean  texts ten minutes after I flop down on my sofa. He
wants a haircut and I sigh,  shaking my head, but text back that he can come
over now if he wants. I set up  the barber stuff in the basement, then as I'm
going up the steps the doorbell  rings. It's Bean and he gives me the full
posse boy greeting with a little  something extra in the hug. What the hell,
it feels nice when someone's glad to  see me.  We do the usual exchange of
'how ya doing?'  but  while I'm doing his shampoo Bean being unusually quiet,
especially for  him. Then I find out why. The doorbell rings just as we're
walking out of the  half bath. I look at Bean, like who could that be? He has
a guilty look on his  face, saying, "Um, that might be Ray." I'm like,
"What? Why would you say that?"  He whines, "You two need to get back together
again so Sonny and me convinced  Ray to come for a haircut." I'm so pissed,
"Bean, I'm really fucking  disappointed in you! I have zero interest in
seeing Ray!" He whines some more,  "Yeah, but Sonny said..." I go, "I don't give a
fuck what Sonny said." Bean's  frowning, mumbling, "I knew it was a stupid
idea! Now you and I can't do what  comes after the haircut." Shaking my head,
furious at Sonny mostly. I snap at  Bean, "You stay here," then stump
upstairs to open the front door. It's Ray  alright.

He  stands there with a smug grin on his face, then says, "Hi, Dylan. Um,
Sonny said  you wanted to try reconciling with me. So I figured I'd be big
about it and come  to you. Some of the guys have mentioned that you and me
were good together and  last summer was a lot of fun. So, you know what? I
thought about it, and to my  surprise I agree with them, so you're forgiven,"
and he holds out his hand,  which I ignore, asking, "Forgiven for what?" He
says, "Well, for fuck sake,  invite me in." I ask again, "What do you think
you're forgiving me for, Ray?" He  says, "For telling the guys you were just
about to dump me after I dumped you.  That's a lie and you know it! I saw how
hurt you were when I told you the bad  news." I'm calmly shaking my head,
saying in a monotone, "It's not a lie, Ray, I  was gonna dump you, but I
don't really give a fuck if you believe me or not, and  I don't need or want
your forgiveness about any fuckin' thing your twisted brain  can come up with."
He goes, "Okay! Yeah, I shouldn't have used the word  'forgive'. I forgot
how sensitive you can be. Let's just say we're starting  fresh and forgetting
negatives so you can concentrate on the positives of being  my boyfriend
again." I'm dumbfounded! This idiot's brain definitely doesn't  function
properly.

He  smiles thinking he just made some kind of magnanimous gesture. Ray's
mind works  in funny ways, and he has such a high opinion of himself reality
is often  ignored by him. I'm looking at him with a blank stare, so he
finally says,  "You're still okay with giving me a haircut, aren't you?" Taking a
deep breath,  I go, "Sure, c'mon in, but just for a haircut." He does the
posse boy greeting  like Bean did, adding a kiss on my cheek as I'm backing
away from him. Ray can't  allow himself to be rebuffed, so in his mind we just
had a cordial hug with a  shared kiss. It'd be funny if it wasn't so
absurd, and he wasn't such a dick.  Okay, I'm being a bit of an asshole myself
though, so I pat his shoulder as we  go downstairs, asking him, "How ya been,
Ray?" He's very upbeat, "Good, Dylan! I  lost my girlfriend though. She's
fucking one of my posse boys now." That's  crude, but then Ray's always had a
way with words. I say, "You mean ex-posse  boys," and he goes, "You guys will
always be my posse boys at heart." Oh  brother! Get a fucking clue, Ray!
Bean  is very cordial with Ray as they do a for-real one arm hug and hand
shake. Bean  goes, "Did you two make-up finally." Ray says, "Dylan and me,
we're good, Bean.  Aren't we, Dylan?" I say, "Yeah, sure," and Bean goes, "You
guys can thank Sonny  for getting you back together again." I roll my eyes
and ask him how he wants  his hair cut." Ray butts in, "Get a burr haircut,
Bean. The one we were rocking  last summer." Bean asks, "You mean like
Dylan's?" and Ray's like, "Yeah!" and  then like he just noticed my hair, he
asks, "Hey, Dylan, did you get that  haircut to please me?" I unconsciously rub
my head, snorting at Ray's ridiculous  premise. It was Ryan who insisting I
get his specialty haircut one day before I  flew home. Bean looks at me and
frowns, mumbling, "Yeah, I notice Dylan's hair  is even shorter than last
summer, I think." and Ray goes, "That's the haircut  I'm getting. You know, in
memory of last summer." Bean's not at all sure about  that. He asks,
"Really, Ray? That's what you're getting?" Ray plops himself down  on the chaise
lounge, "Yep, Dylan's really good at doing a tight burr haircut."  Tired of
Ray already, I ask, "What's it gonna be, Bean?" He shrugs, "Um, I guess  what
Ray said." Jesus! Bean's such a tool!
The  haircut Ryan did for me last Thursday is not like the burr haircuts of
last  summer. Mine is very much like the newest goofy hair style you see
appearing on  celebs and pro athletes. But since Bean agreed with Ray, I
duplicate Ryan's  specialty haircut on Bean's head doing everything the way Ryan
does it. The  clippers go all the way up the sides and back, then on the top
back portion of  Bean's head. Cut hairs are flying all around us with Bean
hunching his shoulders  and frowning in between giving Ray dirty looks. When
I turn the clippers off  Bean probably thinks that's as  short as it goes
and his haircut is done,  but it's not. I use the trimmer clippers to shave
half way up the sides and back  of his head. Then my technique for blending
the eighth inch hairs with the  shaved area isn't as flawless as Ryan's
technique, but it's better than I did  with Sonny's haircut yesterday. When I'm
finished Bean takes his frowning up a  notch feeling his head looking like he
can't believe how little hair he has  left. He goes into the half bath to
look at himself in the mirror over the sink.  Ray sits on the stool, sans
shirt, and quietly says, "Um, not that short for me,  Dylan. Jesus!"
Bean  comes back still rubbing his head, complaining, "I'm fucking
scalped!" Then he  emphatically says to Ray, "You better get the same haircut that
Dylan and I  have. You're the one who talked me into it." I'm enjoying the
shit out of this!  Sonny loved his haircut, but Bean definitely does not, and
those two are  responsible for Ray being here. My revenge on Bean is sweet.

Ray says, "Oh,  sure, Bean," then to me, "Same as Beans for me too." Fucking
Ryan started this  ridiculously short haircut without even being aware it's
the latest thing for  some misguided individuals. Actually it's no longer
the latest style because  this year it gets even more bizarre with the newest
style being shaved all  around the sides and back, while leaving the hair
on top very long so it hangs  over the shaved areas. I think it looks
hideous! I'm going to Google that  haircut and see if it says who first started it.

As I run the clippers all the  way up the side of Ray's head, Bean mutters
that he's leaving now, but he'll see  Ray and me at Richardson's ice cream
and sport complex. Well, he might see Ray  there but he won't be seeing me. I
have no intentions of leaving the condo  tonight. Ray coming over tonight
spoiled what I expected would be a weird, but  kinda hot suck and fuck with
Bean, and I'm mildly pissed-off about that  too.

When  I finish it, Ray's haircut is a duplicate of Bean's and I enjoyed
doing it. His  reaction is much like Beans at first, but then he tries to be
cool about it.  "Wow, heh heh, this is really short, isn't it?" I'm sweeping
up a pile of hair,  saying, "Yes it is, Ray. I'd be hard pressed to cut it
shorter unless I shaved  your head." He nods, still rubbing his fingers over
his head. As I'm dumping the  cut hair in the trash, feeling maybe a little
guilty for giving them such severe  haircuts, Ray squeezes my shoulder,
saying, "Hair grows back, so no big deal.  Um, anyway I'm looking forward to
making our reconciliation official, Dylan. I  haven't forgotten that pussy of
yours." I say, "Whaddaya talking about now,  Ray?" He smirks and grabs his
crotch, I go, "Oh, please! Tell me you're not  expecting me to do anything of a
sexual nature with you." He looks  surprised, then smoothly says, "Yeah, I
did think that, Dylan. I was under the  impression that's why you're so
eager to get back  together."
Can  I believe I'm actually feeling sorry for him? How clueless can one
person be?  Instead of being a smart ass about it, I try for 'nice'. "Ray, it
was Sonny's  and Bean's well intentioned, although misguided effort to get us
together again  even though I specifically told Sonny I wasn't the least
bit interested  in doing that. You and I had our fling last summer and you're,
um, an  okay guy and all that, but I have no interest in being your
boyfriend or having  buddy sex with you. I'm sorry, but there's no way we're doing
anything sexual."  He goes, "You sure had the hots for me last summer, and I
think you still do but  you're submerging those feelings." Oh fuck! I say,
"And why would I submerge my  feelings, Ray?" He shrugs, "You're
temperamental, a diva of sorts." I shake  my head because there's no reasoning with
Ray. I say, "Good night, Ray," and he  goes, "C'mon, I'll let you suck my cock
and then I'll give that pussy of  your's a hard fucking for old times sake,
if nothing else. Let yourself go and  see if my big cock doesn't start a sp
ark of heat in you again." He unsnaps his  shorts, saying, "Start by sucking
the big knob on the head of my eight inch  cock. That'll get your juices
flowing." Being nice doesn't seem to be getting  through to Ray, so I yell,
"NO! Goddammit!  Get it through your head I  don't want any of it, not with
you! Sorry to be so direct." He gets that mean  look in his eyes, "Oh, now
you're thinking you're too good for me again. You  weren't too good for me last
summer, were you?"
Maybe  staying calm is the best approach. "Look Ray, last summer I was sort
of on the  rebound. My hot dominant sex buddy moved away and for a while I
allowed my  confused self to get infatuated by you, but I got over it pretty
quickly. I went  along with you for a while so I wouldn't hurt your
feelings. Now you need to get  over it too." He goes, "Don't flatter yourself,
Dylan, I dumped you, remember? I  was so 'over you' it wasn't even funny." I
say, "Okay then, good! And I'm glad  you like your haircut, but now I've got to
ask you to leave because there's  things I need to do. Nice seeing you
again, and come over anytime you want me to  redo that same haircut for you." He
says, "This haircut eats shit," and I go,  "Ya know, I agree with you,
which is why I'm not getting another haircut like  this unless I join the Navy
Seals." He looks shocked, "You're joining the Navy  Seals?" I go, "No, not in
this life time, I'm not." He goes, "But you said..." He  doesn't get sarcasm
apparently. I mumble, "That's another way of saying I'm  never getting this
haircut again, ever!"
Ray's  putting his shirt on, then groping his junk again, saying, "Last
chance, Dylan."  I mutter, "And I'll be passing on my last chance. Let me walk
you to the door."  He holds his ground, "Oh, so I need to ask nicely, is
that it." Shaking my head  again, I quietly say, "No, Ray, it wouldn't matter
how you asked me. I simply  don't want to have sex with you." Ray's looking
mean again, "I could  fuck you if I felt like it and it wouldn't matter if
you wanted to or not." I  say, "No you couldn't, Ray. Anyway, we're getting
too old for fighting so we'll  never know what you could or couldn't do in
that regard. I'm flattered you want  to have sex with me, but I must say no
thank you. But, let's not part enemies,  that'd be childish." He's nodding his
head, "Yeah, okay. It's your loss." and he  starts going up the steps. I
follow him to the front door, opening it for him,  asking, "How come you didn't
play summer basketball this year?" He says, "Fuck  you, Newman," and stalks
down the outdoor steps towards his car. Huh, was it  something I said?
Closing  the door I admit to myself that a farewell fuck from Ray wouldn't
be the worst  way to spend a random Tuesday night, but then he'd want to do
it again the next  time, or he'd pull that superior shit of his by implying
I've got the hots for  him. If not that, he'd go with the petulant refrain
that I think I'm too good  for the likes of him. I've never acted superior or
thought I was better than  anyone, although I am better than some lowlifes
I've run into on rare occasions.  I pity them more than anything. Ray
doesn't fall into that category though. Last  summer I actually discovered some
very good aspects of Ray's personality, but  unfortunately they're outnumbered
by the negatives ten to one. What an asshole...  ha ha, although he'll
probably somehow end up being more successful than all of  us Framingham boys.

So,  I finally do have a partial night of chilling-out. After the haircuts
I call for  a pizza, then I'm feeling too lazy to even check my text or
email messages.  Waiting for the pizza delivery I'm laying around thinking about
Ryan and my  time in Marietta deciding it was a worthwhile endeavor for a
number of reasons;  all the ones I've thought of before. I miss him and look
forward to seeing him  again in the fall at Merrimack College. What our
relationship will be then is  anyone's guess. I have no way of knowing how far
Ryan's and Mike's relationship  will have developed, if at all. I must admit
Ryan's provided me with some of the  hottest sex of my life, but it's hard
to imagine that level of sexual heat  between us will ever be matched again.

In fact the hottest sex we ever had  together was that first summer right up
until he transferred to Georgia.  So, even though we had hot sex this
summer it didn't match the sexual heat of  the summer before, and I don't think
we'll match this summer's sexual heat in  the future. That's if we even have
sex when back at college. We're spiraling  downward whereas Robby and I are
still ascending. We're falling more in love  every day it seems, and its
such sweet fun being in love with  him.

I  think about the unusual sex-a-thon with Frankie last night and how I
kept  thinking something's missing. The truth is, side-sex with Ray holds
little to no  appeal for me, and even sex with Sonny, while good, doesn't compare
to the sex  he and I were having last summer. My disappointment at missing
out on a goofy  suck and fuck with Bean was hardly more than a passing
thought. Huh, and my sex  tonight is zero, a complete reversal from last night.

And I'm perfectly fine  with that. My question to myself is: what's happening
to you, Dylan? Well, all I  know for sure is... I can't wait for tomorrow
night with Robby. Then the  doorbell rings, so I guess my pizza's here.



to  be continued...



thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@outlook.com



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



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



Donny  Mumford



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

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