Date: Fri, 22 Jul 2016 13:31:30 -0400 From: MGTBILL@aol.com Subject: DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME Chapter 36 DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME Chapter 36 By Donny Mumford Sonny and Byrd both grab one of my arms to pull me off my perch on the washing machine. As I slide off, Byrd hops up on it, changing places with me, saying, "This'll be fun to watch!" I shrug my arm out of Sonny's grip and, without much conviction, say, "I'm letting my hair grow for once." As I'm saying that, visions of Sonny giving Byrd that very short haircut, followed by a good hard fucking up the ass, are tantalizingly fresh images in my mind and it's almost impossible to resist experiencing that myself. Smiling and nodding his head, like he understands completely, Sonny gets hold of both my hands pulling me to the stool, sternly saying, "Your hair looks like shit, Dylan! You know it does, and you're always neatly groomed, so I'm doing you a fucking favor! Now take your shirt off and get up on that fucking barber stool." Sonny's somehow able to pull off a smiling style of dominance like no one else I know. Byrd chimes in, "Yeah, c'mon, Dylan, I've never had a chance to watch. You watched my fetish get boiling hot, and anyway Sonny's haircuts are wicked cool," and he rubs his shorn head with both hands. I mutter, "You're full of shit, Byrd; that haircut is definitely not wicked cool." As 'uncool' as the haircut may be, it's still very tempting to let Sonny do the haircut on me; so much so my dick's making significant progress at taking control of my brain. I'm like, "I don't know, Sonny. I, um..." He says, "Get the fuck on the stool, Dylan. Don't be a pussy." Oooh, I'd love to do that, but instead I steadfastly shake my head 'no'. Sonny, not to be deterred, tries another tactic talking slowly and calmly like he's speaking logically to a young child, "Look, you know you want the haircut, Dylan. And, hell, you very much want to feel that haircut-fetish rush right? Plus, I know damn well a three-way sex-a-thon is right up your hot sexy alley too, so let yourself go and enjoy a magic carpet ride." Oh balls, now I've got that scary-weird feeling in my groin that I always get when I know I'm going to give in and then be sorry for it later. It's the same scary-weird feeling Byrd mentioned as he was sitting on the stool knowing he's going to docilely sit there and let Sonny cut almost all his hair off. During the past few years I've had some extreme haircut fetish sensations, and as much as I'd like to experience that feeling again I force myself to yell at the top of my lungs, "No, goddammit!" They both freeze, looking startled. I'm like, "I said no, and fucking 'no' means NO! Now quit fucking around with this, and I mean both of you. Stop acting like a couple of nagging little kids!" Jeez, that felt good! Sonny steps back, "Fuck, okay! Ya don't need to go all psycho on us." I say, "Yeah, well... sorry I yelled, but for once in my life I'd like to be able to comb my hair like most humans do regularly." He looks calculating, saying, "Sure, I understand, Dylan, but at least let me cut the hair around your ears. It looks scruffy and I'm sure you don't want to rock that ragamuffin look, am I right?" Ha, if he thinks I'm falling for that bull shit he's got another 'think' coming to him. The second I sit on that stool my hair is doomed. Ignoring that suggestion, I say, "To answer your question of a minute ago, Byrd: the broom, dustpan and brush are in that little closet next to the dryer." He hops off the washing machine, mumbling, "I guess the party's over," and like a good boy he gets the cleaning stuff from the closet. Sonny puts his arm across my shoulders, being contrite now, "You're not mad at me are you, dude?" I go, "No, not really, I just don't want a haircut." He shrugs, "No problem. I was just playing the game, ya know! But, Dylan, heh heh, you and I both know you really wanted me to do it." Doing a deep exhale, I mutter, "No, not this time, Sonny," and thereby rack-up another little white lie; this one is number, 2761. The three of us make quick work of cleaning up Byrd's hair clippings, and then I use my foot to drag a damp rag on the tile section of the floor wiping up Byrd's three cum-shot streaks, plus drips of his cum under the stool. Putting the broom, dustpan and brush away, Byrd asks, "Can we do the three-way at least?" I snort out a chuckle, muttering, "Jesus, haven't you had enough yet, Byrd?" He goes, "Not really, plus there's some payback I'd like to do on Sonny's ass and, Dylan, I could make that ass of yours feel mighty good too." Sonny says, "Yeah, how about it, Dylan?" I shake my head, "No thanks. My boyfriend's in the hospital and it just wouldn't be right." Sonny goes, "Not Right? When the fuck did that ever stop you before?" I go, "I'm getting too old to be fucking like a, um... a tiger." Byrd asks, "Do tigers fuck a lot?" I go, "Yup, up to two hundred times in any two day period, ya know, when they're hot to trot." Sonny goes, "Bull shit," and I say, "Google it, Sonny! Bottlenose dolphins have lots of sex too. They go at it at least a couple of times every day, and just for the pleasure of it too; they're not even in heat or anything." They're both shaking their heads like they don't believe me. Chuckling, I add, "You two, however, might more closely resemble sea horses." Sonny asks, "Why's that?" and I grin, "Because sea horses specialize in gay sex." Byrd's like, "Get outta here! Gay Sea Horses, my ass!" I'm like, "Google it, fools! Going through life not knowing the sex lives of the animal kingdom is no way to live." Spouting off a few of Chubby factoids gets these two numb-nuts off the sexy three-way debate, and now I have them walking upstairs with Sonny beside me, asking, "Does this mean you're never going to get a haircut from me ever again?" I mumble, "I never say never about anything, my orange-haired friend, but it is highly unlikely you'll get to do damage to my hair again." He mumbles, "Damage? Well that sucks." I go, "Lucky for you you've got the Byrd man here, who hasn't yet developed the amazing willpower that I have." Byrd says, "I'm giving you a haircut next time, Sonny." He mutters, "Oh shit, don't even kid around about that. I've got my own sexy personal barber, and he's in the person of my main man, Dylan, here" and he pats my shoulder. Sure, I'm fine with that. Walking the guys outside, then I have mixed emotions watching them going down the steps to their motorbikes. I'm missing the fetish rush Ryan's weekly haircuts generated, and Sonny would have provided some of that. That's true enough, but what I don't miss is the scalped head after my fetish is satisfied. Running my fingers through my hair I compliment myself for managing to suppress the lore of my haircut fetish for once. I'm determined to conquer my fetish, and this was a damn good test of my willpower in that regard. Hopefully it'll get easier saying 'no' to temptation as time goes by. And yes, I'm well aware that the vast majority of people in the world have no fucking idea what it feels like being in the grasp of that fetish, but the small percentage that do... well, they know what I'm talking about. It's simply one more thing I experience that I can't describe. Damn, the things I need to leave behind as I get older can be painful, and I'm not even sure why I think I need to leave it behind. Back inside I flop on the sofa and lay here picturing what it would have been like sitting on the barber stool, bare chested, listening to the 'Crunch' sound of the scissor cutting through my hair and then the cut hairs drifting onto my shoulders or down my back. Sonny's hair cutting technique can take as long as a half hour or more, whereas Ryan takes about five minutes with the clippers. I get half a woody just thinking about that. Jesus, I'll need to strengthen my resolve when I see Ryan at Merrimack, and that's fer sure! I resisted Sonny though, so that's a damn good start. Actually It's only those two guys who tempt me with they're dominant haircutting technique. They both can get me groveling in my silly fetish. Willie used to dominate my ass and take me to the barbers for whatever haircut style he fancied at the moment, but at least he never had the inclination to cut my hair himself. The haircuts he instructed the barber to give me, however, were always really short and of course Willie rarely got the same haircut for himself. As a matter of fact he was going to take me to his hair stylist for a 'trim' this very afternoon, but with Robby in the hospital I called Willie and emphatically squashed that idea. So I'm doing okay. I spend the rest of the night replying to texts I received the last couple of days. Then I send Robby another maudlin 'I love you so much' email because I am feeling maudlin about him. It's like I love him more every day. Later, Ryan and I exchanged half a dozen texts in a row, mostly just goofy stuff. Nothing about haircuts. He seems fine and he's anxiously looking forward to our junior year at college. He texts that it's not as much fun around there without me to look at. Ha ha... Ryan, like Willie, is generous with compliments for me. Unfortunately Ryan has nothing to say in his texts about his love life with Mike, so I don't bring it up. That's apparently a dead issue now. Huh, I kinda miss Ryan. Our time in Georgia was pretty good. After taking a shower I'm in bed by ten-thirty, again thinking about Ryan giving me one of his specialty haircuts and thereby experience a fathom fetish rush before falling asleep. Then Wednesday morning it's business as usual and to my surprise I discover I'm not even all that pissed off at the thought of working for Bull again today. I admit there's some satisfaction in transforming that pond area back to it's early days of glory. From what I saw in the drawing-blueprint it'll be the most attractive section of the entire backyard when we're finished with it. While I'm driving Chubby and me to work he tells me about his date with MJ last night saying they had a major argument at the movies that almost resulted in Chubby getting in a fight with the guy sitting behind them. Instead he and MJ left the movie when it was half over and then laughed about it later while making-up. Chubby says, "And there most definitely was some hanky/panky involved in our making-up, no matter what MJ said Sunday. She can be a ginormous pain in the ass, but then really hot in the sack. Holy shit, can she..." I hold my hands up interrupting him, "For the love of God, spare me the gross details, bro." Chubby and I are changing into our 'Dickers and Son' t-shirts, cargo shorts, baseball caps, and grass-stained sneakers, then I give him a squeeze on the back of his neck, saying, "Hope you have a good day, Chub. Um, if I'm working late again tonight I'll text you." He gives my shoulders a hug, then heads off to see what instructions Rory has for him this morning, while I wander down to the company's number one crew carrying my lunch and feeling frisky. On the way I hear, "Dylan! Wait up!" Turning, I see Seth jogging towards me with a big smile on his face. Well I'll be goddamned! I've got a big smile on my face too as we hug and pat each other on the back. His clean-shaven cheek slides against mine and his scent brings back sweet memories of Seth's and my innocent sex together and the fondness we feel for one another. We pat each other on the shoulder for a little additional bodily contact while looking at one another, smiling and checking each other out. He says, "You look wonderful, Dylan. Um, I didn't even know you were back from Georgia." Left unsaid is why didn't I text him, making me feel guilty. Then he says, "Yeah, I heard Rory White mention your name in the office when he was putting you in for a couple hours of overtime yesterday." I'm noticing a new, just barely detectible lisps in Seth's voice. He goes on to say, "I would have texted you right away except I can't find my damn cellphone." I go, "Oh, you lost your cellphone, huh? Um, I started work some weeks ago and then I was on vacation, and.... um. Oh, I'm sorry about your cellphone, Seth." He shrugs, "I'm always losing something." I ask, "So, you're working in the office now, huh?" He nods his head, "Yep, half the day in the supply room and then my afternoons are spent in the office." I nod, and he adds, "They finally hired a real mechanic to replace me." He moves his head in a girlie way, adding, "Oh, and I can't thank you enough for getting me this full time gig." I'm like, "Ah, yeah sure, but I didn't do anything except ask Rob about it." He giggles, acting a bit gay for the first time since I've known him, then says, "Yeah, but that's all you needed to do. Rob would do anything for you." I go, "Nah, not really." He looks good except he's clean shaven. The last time I saw him he was taking my advice about rocking that trendy three-day beard look, not that he has a full beard yet. I touch his cheek, saying, "You're shaving again, Seth," and in a joking manner, I add, "It's a bit disturbing you've stop following my grooming tips." He laughs nervously, then says, "Yeah, well... ah, my latest boyfriend, Joe Barnes, has his own styling tips that I tend to pay attention to." I ask, "Oh yeah, what's Joe like?" Seth walks with me, saying, "He's no Dylan Newman, but you're taken already, so...," then a giggling, "Ha ha," and I guess I frowned, because in a more normal speaking voice, he says, "Um, Joe's real nice, but not an especially handsome guy. I feel very comfortable with him though, and he's gentle in bed, and he makes me laugh a lot." I mumble, "Admirable traits for a boyfriend." Am I feeling a tinge of jealousy, or is it I'm disappointed this guy, Joe, is rubbing off on Seth? I'm guessing Joe's a tad on the swishy side and Seth's picking up on that. I'd like to know more, but I don't pry. Then Seth pats my shoulder, saying, "Oh, and get this, Dylan, my mother called me at the beginning of the summer. I was surprised she remembered my cellphone number," and he covers his mouth with his hand, snickering, "Aren't I terrible for saying that?" What the fuck? Huh, I might need to smack this Joe character around a little and get him to knock off influencing my boy, Seth, with his stereotypical gay affectations. Seth tells me about the visit he had with his parents, which did not go well at all. Frankly, when I'm done knocking Joe around, I'd like to kick both his parents in the ass, and more than one time too. I mean, who throws their seventeen year old kid out of the house because he tells them he's gay. I'm listening to Seth without commenting about his parents one way or the other because it's none of my business. If he asked for my opinion that'd be a different matter. And I also can't stop myself from repeatedly glancing at Seth's haircut because it's what I've recently been informed is called a SuperCuts regular haircut. I feel a tinge of jealousy about that too. I don't like that he's going to those butcher barbers again, but then I was in Georgia so what else was Seth supposed to do? Still, whenever I see a guy I used to give haircuts to going back to the barbers, I always feel funny about it. It makes me feel like they've betrayed me somehow. We only talk for a couple of minutes because guys are lining up with their work crews. Seth and I promise each other we'll double date when Robby gets better. Whether we do that is another matter altogether. People drift apart and change as their lives evolve and new people become part of it, but some guys will always be special to me. I know I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for Seth, but mostly I'm happy he's doing well. Dammit though, he has a nice head of hair and it's just a shame his barber can't do it justice. He almost certainly got that cookie-cutter haircut from a lady barber who's been primarily trained to do women's hair, and then at the end of the six month training period she spent half a day training to cut men and boys hair in that signature shitty haircut that I've dubbed a 'farmer' haircut. It looks like the haircut farmers had in the 1930's. At least the ones I've seen in history books while in middle school. The farmers' wives gave their farmer husbands 'home' haircuts out there in Nebraska, or wherever the fuck. Seth goes towards the office and I walk over to stand beside Bull, who says, "Give me your lunch, Kiddo, and I'll put it in the cooler." Huh, normally I hate when someone calls me 'kiddo', but coming from Bull it's an improvement over being completely ignored or called a 'dumb ass', so I let it slide and I hand him my lunch, muttering, 'Thanks." Today plays out very much like yesterday. I uncover the outlet pipe and spend the morning digging it out, then the afternoon cleaning out the rotted vegetation that's accumulated and clogged the twelve foot pipe during the last twenty-some years, which I'm told is the last time anyone paid any attention to this section of the back yard. Bull doesn't say much today either, but what he does say he says in a more peasant manner then previously days. We finish work pretty close to four o'clock, which is the normal quitting time, so I text Chubby asking him to wait an extra twenty minutes while I clean the equipment. I don't want another ride home with that complaining old guy who has a hair across his ass. Chubby's waiting for me when Bull drives us back to the garage. Then Chubby helps me clean everything as I tell him about running into Seth this morning. He says, "Oh yeah, how's he doing? I haven't seen him since the beginning of the summer." I tell him what little I know and we reminisce a little about Seth. He's a guy I've never heard a negative word about from anyone, so I'm not mentioning him acting slightly swishy to Chubby or anybody else. On the way home we decide we'll eat dinner before visiting Robby at the hospital. After showering I go up to Chubby's and we make a hotdog and baked bean casserole that includes some chopped red peppers and onion, plus brown sugar and one whole hot cherry pepper... sweet and spicy beans. The hotdogs we get from the freezer and the big can of beans from the pantry. Also from the freezer we defrost a couple of French rolls. Last thing is a salad of romaine lettuce, cucumber, red onion, and summer tomatoes. We finish the salad with Ken's Italian dressing. While the casserole bubbles in the oven we have a beer and a cigarette on the balcony commiserating about the end of summer that's now only a little more then a week away. Well, not the official end of summer, but the end of our summer vacation 'cause we're going back to college. At the hospital we park in the same "Physicians Only" lot we parked in last night because it's so conveniently close to the front entrance. After signing-in we navigate our way through the corridors only getting lost one time. At Robby's room Chubby does his friendly greeting for the occupant in the first bed telling him he looks much better tonight. Chubby's pulling the privacy curtain separating the guy from Robby's area as he's telling the man that lie. I follow Chubby to Robby's bed as Rory White, Robby's immediate supervisor, is leaving. We all exchange muttered greetings as I stand at the foot of the bed waiting for Rory to walk out the door, then I go over and give Robby a kiss on the cheek. I was reckless last night kissing him on the lips because I could have caught his cold. He hugs around my neck sort of pulling me down with him on the bed, grinning and saying, "I'm not contagious now, Dylan." I'm thinking, okay, he caught the cold Sunday and now it's Wednesday so he's probably right about not being contagious, but it's only after a week that it's assured I won't catch his cold kissing him on the mouth. Fuck it though; we do an open mouth kiss for a few seconds until Chubby clears his throat like he did last night. Robby grins, looking past me at Chubby, saying, "Oh, hi Jeff, nice of you to visit me again." Chubby's smirking and slowly shaking his head as we do an exaggerated kiss for his benefit. We find out why he's smirking when a nurse he saw before we did quickly walks over to Robby's side of the room. She sees me on top of Robby and stops in her tracks. Chubby snickers as I awkwardly get off the bed blushing and mumbling, "I stumbled onto the, um... bed." She's a middle aged women who rolls her eyes at me, then with a knowing look, mumbles, "Uh huh," then to Robby, "Robert, time for your vitals." Using a digital temperature and pulse rate thingie, the vital signs check-up goes quickly. Then a blood pressure check followed by the stethoscope on Robby's chest for a few seconds. She's done in less then two minutes. As the nurse prepares to leave, Chubby asks, "Would you mind checking my blood pressure too, Nurse Tompkins? I feel a faintness coming on." She chuckles and walks swiftly from the room, as I ask Robby, "How many times a day do they check you out like that?" He goes, "Once at each shift change. Hey, there's this cool young Hispanic dude who checks my vital signs in the morning. He has the prettiest green eyes." I go, "A male nurse, huh," and Robby says, "Yeah, and I asked him how many male nurses there are... he says that less than ten percent of America's nurses are guys." I ask, "Was he gay?" and Robby shrugs, "I couldn't tell." Chubby goes, "Well, did he fondle you unnecessarily or check your dick as part of the vital signs check-up?" Robby says, "Oh yeah, he did all of that, plus he goosed my ass repeatedly, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's gay. Could be just a very conscientious nurse." Chubby and I laugh. Robby looks and sounds much better tonight, so I ask, "Any chance you'll be at work tomorrow, Rob?" He shakes his head, "No, although I'm certainly well enough to go to work. Still, they're not signing me out until tomorrow afternoon. And I did try to get out of here this afternoon, but they tell me they're waiting for results from this mornings blood tests." Then he asks Chubby how it went at work today, and they discuss that for a while. I feel left out of the conversation because I haven't been working on our crew all week. Chub tells Rob about their truck breaking-down in the afternoon, and about Dallas accidentally weed whacking what he thought were weeds, but were actually Cone Flowers bordering the edge of a shrubbery area. The flowers had lost their bloom and looked like weeds. Robby says, "Cone Flowers are perennials though, so they'll grow back next year." Chubby goes, "Oh good, they'll grow back, huh? We didn't know what they were so I had Dallas weed whack them down to the ground." Robby makes a face, but doesn't say anything, then can't resist muttering, "For future reference, no one is supposed to weed whack anything in shrubbery areas." Chubby rubs his nose, nodding his head as this is a well-known fact. I change the subject and describe what I've been doing with Bull so far this week, and then we talk about the hospital food Robby's been eating sparingly, and that gets us laughing. Chubby picks up the small container of chocolate pudding Robby left on his tray, saying, "No need to waste pudding even though it says it's artificially flavored and made with powdered milk," and he peels off the top and eats it with one of the plastic spoons from Robby's tray. As he's eating it Robby mumbles, "Yeah, enjoy. I didn't eat the fake pudding because it gave Al, the guy in the next bed, severe diarrhea yesterday." Chubby snorts out a chuckle with some pudding spraying from his mouth, but he finishes the pudding. Hospital visits, even short ones, can seem to go on for a long, long time. Time passes slower in hospitals than anywhere else on earth. When Robby's parents and grandmother come in for a visit, it's time for Chubby and me to leave. After saying hello to the trio, I pat Robby's shoulder rather than a kiss goodbye, and he says, "I'll shoot you a text when I'm out of jail tomorrow, Dylan." I wave as we're leaving, saying, "Be well, Rob," and when we're in the corridor, Chubby asks me, "What are you going to do now, bro?" I shrug, "I got nothing, Chub. How about you?" He says, "Hmmm, it's only a little after eight. Let's do something we've rarely ever done." I go, "Okay, what's that?" and he says, "Stop at a random bar and have a beer." And that's what we do. We get 'carded', of course, but it's not some big ordeal like it was in Wildwood. As the bartender glances at our drivers licenses Chub and I each put a twenty dollar bill on the bar. The bartender, an older bald man wearing a flannel shirt in late August, flips our licenses on the bar, asking, "What'll it be, fellows?" We order draft beers, Sam Adams on tap. It comes in sixteen ounce glasses and costs $4.00 each. That's about three and a half times what it cost the bar, so not too bad of a rip-off. It's just a cool thing to be legally sitting at a bar with a bowl of popcorn and honey roaster peanuts in front of us. Chubby, me, and a guy one seat over, who's drinking alone, share the bowl of snack food. We're all watching one of three big screen TVs where currently there's baseball games on two and a European soccer match on the other. There's also a back room with two pool tables, both occupied, and the clicking of the cue ball against the numbered balls adds to the atmosphere. We only stay for two beers because that's all we feel like having. In the parking lot we share a cigarette before driving home where we hang out on my balcony talking about what we need to bring to college this year, and then Chubby decides he wants a haircut. We do that while a CD by the group 'Walk The Moon' plays in the background. Listening to the tunes we're silently thinking our own thoughts. I drag out the shampoo and the haircut because I enjoy doing this for Chubby. He wants the preppy short haircut he asked for last time. When my hair's long enough I think I'll have the same hair style, although who the fuck's going to cut my hair is up in the air. God forbid I end up in Super Cuts, although that's a concern for another day. Finishing Chubby haircut I'm thinking he looks so handsomely-cute I can't resist giving his head a hug, and then do a long kiss on the side of his forehead, murmuring, "We're the best, best friends and brothers the world has ever seen." He smiles, "That's right, Dylan, and it's never going to be anything less than that, no matter what." After a last shared smoke on the balcony, Chubby goes up to his place and I get ready for bed at the reasonable hour of ten o'clock. Reasonable considering I'm up by six. Laying in bed I'm feeling good about spending the last six hours with Chubby. There's never a hint of tension or uncomfortableness when it's just Chubby and me. It's like floating along on a smile being with him. He's funny and warm and I always feel a subtle happiness in his company. I also feel his love and concern for my well being. There's a relaxing, casual and pleasant aura surrounding us. I've thought about the specialness of a brother's love many times and it warms my heart like nothing else can. There's an honesty about it; one without obligation except to return it all in kind. That's the easiest thing in the world to do for him. And yeah, everyone has an aura about them that scientist call an electro-magnetic field. I have to think Chubby's and my auras are about as compatible as it's possible to be. We have the same Astrological 'sign' too obviously: Leo the Lion. For what it's worth that's our Zodiac sign, Leo. Ha ha, and who am I to make fun of Astrological signs? The bottom line is, where Chubby's concerned, there's nothing I wouldn't do for him and I know without a shadow of a doubt he feels the same about me. And there's nothing more to say about that topic, so I fall asleep feeling lucky and happy. Thursday at work I'm in the wader-suit again. It covers me from my feet up to a bib chest with straps over my shoulders. Good thing too because I'm in the pond with the murky water a foot above my waist, some of the dirty water slushing in at the edges of the bib. I'm moving the scum on top of the water to the end of the pond where Bull has a machine that suctions the pond scum into large plastic containers. The container's sit on a dolly so we can move them when they're full; each one is heavy as a bitch. Bull got a permit to dump the pond scum at a land fill. I'm in the pond cleaning away the scum until lunch time, sweating my nuts off in the process. Bull helps me out and then he turns the clear water on through the intake valve so the pond will fill-up to eight feet while we eat lunch. There are two guys laying bricks around each pipe area. They stop working and eat lunch with us complimenting us on the job we've done back here. They're laying bricks around the on/off valve at one end of the pond, and under the overflow valve at the other end so any overflow will spread out and not create a hole in the ground like running water is wont to do. After lunch I help Bull plant new shrubby and tomorrow a guy with a ride-on tiller will be here tilling the soil where strips of grass sod will be laid, then a heavy roller will attach the sod to the tilled loam. This area will be beautiful next spring and through the summer and into the fall too when the various flowering shrugs do their thing at different times from April to September. There are also twenty trees with burlap bound root balls, none presently taller than twelve feet, that'll get planted tomorrow as well. We leave at the normal quitting time. In the shotgun seat I'm scrutinizing the area we've been beautifying as Bull backs the pickup out on the gravel drive to the blacktopped main driveway. Damn, it's amazing how two guys working their balls off for four days can transform a shabby area into a pristine beauty. At the company garage Bull pats my back, saying, "We kicked that project's ass! You can take off, Kiddo; I'll clean the equipment tonight. See you in the morning and we'll put a cherry on top of that fucking pond area." I wave, saying, "Thanks, Bull," and don't even think about arguing with him. I did the clean-up three days in a row, so it's good to see there's some fairness in that Bull's doing the clean-up tonight. I heard my cellphone ping, indicating a text, around two o'clock, but I was planting shrubs and I didn't know it was Robby. My cellphone was in my pocket and I didn't want to take it out because my hands were filthy. When I checked later, after washing my hands at the hose, I saw his text saying he's home now and asking if I want to go out with him tonight. Is he kidding? Of course I want to see him tonight! I gotta say though, I'm shocked his dad hasn't scheduled some dumb-ass meeting for Robby to attend, like happens most nights. I texted back, 'Robby, the only thing I want to do tonight is be with you.' He texts that he'll pick me up at seven. Reading that, I said out loud, "Hot shit!" Bull looked over, but didn't ask what I said 'hot shit' about. The afternoon went quickly after that. Chubby's coming out of the locker room just as I'm running in, saying, "Be with you in a minute, Chub." After quickly changing into the clothes I wore here this morning, I bundle-up my dirty uniforms, get Chubby's out of his locker, and bring them all with me. At the Jeep Chubby takes the laundry and passes me his cigarette, saying, "Damn! I meant to collect the dirty clothes myself. It's my turn to do the laundry." I mumble, "Thanks, Chub," and after a drag off the cigarette, I say, "I'll drive." Chubby takes the cigarette back for a last drag, then flicks the butt about twenty feet over the car parked next to our Jeep, then gets in the passenger seat, asking, "Ya doing anything tonight, Dylan?" Driving off the parking lot onto the street, I say, "Yep, I have a date with Rob," and Chubby says, "I figured as much." During the twelve minute drive home he tells me he's meeting a couple of guys from work, and their girlfriends, for candlepin bowling after dinner. He's taking Dallas' sister. I asked him earlier in the summer if anyone has ever said anything to him about him dating an African American girl and he told me no one has. Not that he's heard anyway, and lucky for them he didn't hear anyone say anything. She has a mixture of African and European facial features, and the same mocha-colored skin as Dallas. He's a handsome dude and she's petite, but with a hot body, and a very pretty face. Chubby says he sees guys turn their heads looking at her when they walk by. We stop on the way home for Chinese take-out and eat it as soon as we get home, then take showers for our dates tonight. Oh man, I clean myself really good, spending five minutes just getting my fingernails sparkling clean. Hell, I scrub myself all over because working in dirt you get it everywhere; your ears too. I need to shine for Robby. After drying I try doing something with my hair, but it's still not long enough except the front hairs, also known as bangs. They get swept over to the side and that's about it. I choose a clean button down the front dark blue, long sleeved shirt that has two buttoned-flap pockets at the chest. The long sleeves get rolled-up to just below my elbows and I wear the shirt with the tails out over tan cargo shorts; then it's topsiders, sans socks, on my feet. I'm wearing my leather bracelet, the brother ring from Chubby and the latest ring Robby gave me for my birthday, plus my sport watch. Checking myself out in the mirror, and... YES! With a couple of sticks of Spearmint gum in my pocket, I smoke a cigarette on the balcony eagerly awaiting my boyfriend's arrival. When the doorbell chimes I dump the cigarette butt over the railing and as I walk through the condo, I unwrap a piece of gum. The gum goes into my mouth for a couple of chews, then I open the door and there's Robby who's as shiny as me, and maybe a little shinier. His super-clean two-toned blond hair glows in the sunshine and looks awesome, and so does the little pompadour he's combed at the front. It's not just his hair though, he's beautiful all over and he has a sexy soft scraggily two-day growth of pale blond curly whiskers along his jaw line, and the cutest short, thin curly mustache I've ever seen. For some reason, maybe because I feel overwhelmed that this young man is actually my boyfriend, I formally say, "Rob, won't you please come in." He laughs at that as he steps inside, then pushes the door closed behind him. He takes me in his arms and says in my ear, "You look good enough to eat," and we do a long lover's kiss with lots of lips and tongue action. It's like we're trying to eat each other's mouth. It's a very sexy way to kiss actually. We do passionate kisses standing just inside the foyer with my arms around his neck and his arms around my waist. Both our faces are flush when we break our passionate kiss to breathe deeply. We're staring into each other's eyes; eyes that are almost the identical shade of blue, then rub our noses together before Robby takes my hand and walks me into the kitchen, saying, "I need a glass of water, babe. I can't get enough liquids in me the past few days." I get a sixteen ounce bottle of water from the refrigerator, telling him, "Deep passionate kissing like we do requires all 34 facial muscles." He laughs at that random bit of information, then drinks a third of the water as I tell him, "That's true, plus passionate kisses elevates our blood pressure and heart rate." He goes, "I can vouch for that." I say, "There's more too. During open mouth kissing a guy transfers testosterone to his partner and in our case we're both doing it." Robby drinks some more water, asking, "What else?" and I go, "Kissing releases endorphins and oxytocin." He grins, "What are they?" I shrug, "I'm not real sure, but oxytocin might be a hormone in the brain. Anyway kissing tends to make a person happy and stress free." Robby finishes the cold water, then says, "Well, it sounds like kissing is good for our health," and we do some more of it with Robby leaning me up against the kitchen bar. By now my cocks's so hard I'm afraid if it bumped against something it would snap off at the root. Gasping I cling to Robby feeling ridiculously in love with him, as well as, feeling a kind of desperate need for him. After another gasp, I murmur, "Robby, I need to feel you inside me," and I clutch at his body, hugging him stupidly hard. Probably curious about my intense affection for him, he mumbles, "I've been missing you too, babe," and, taking my arm from around him, he holds my hand as we go to my bedroom. Without even closing the door we're undressing each other. Naked, we cling together kissing again and humping our hips against one another gently. I gasp, "Now Rob, now," but he says, "No, we're getting in bed first." My cock drools precum, and it's almost scary how much I need this from Robby. I'm holding on to him as we take the four steps to the bed. He must think I've lost my mind, but he's just so perfect and sexy and desirable that I can't let go of him. I'm aroused to the degree I feel I'll climax if we so much as kiss again. Robby pulls me onto the bed, grinning his cutest grin, murmuring, "I'm so flattered you want me this badly, Dylan." I nod, then nestle my naked body against his, squirming against him. After thirty seconds he mutters, "Jeez, okay," and turns me over. Laying on my stomach with my ass pushed up for him, I'm whimpering with desire as he drags his hard boner up and down the crack between my butt cheeks and over my quivering anus teasing me for a minute making me shiver and say his name. Then he quietly murmurs, "Okay, okay," and plugs the fat head of his cock halfway in making me shake and moan, "Aaaaah, oooh, ooh..." Robby drops his hips, and with a quiet grunt pushes his hard fat boner in past my prostate as my shoulders shudder. A fairly hard hip thrust from Robby flattens his groin tightly against my ass and now it's Robby who moans out loud, "Mmmm, aaah, whoooa," then a wheezy exhale. He humps against my buttocks a few times creating wonderful sensations that stream from inside my rectum causing my ass to hump back at him. Robby puts his hands flat on the mattress opposite my shoulders and begins fucking my ass by just moving his hips. I'm immediately squirming under him, gasping and biting the pillow already overwhelmed with sexual arousal. My brain is quickly saturated with sexual pleasure messages and after five or six thrust of his cock up my ass my body gets stiff as a board and I see stars exploding as my hips hump and, with me doing an airy squeal, cum gushes out of my cock wetting the sheets underneath me, then again! I'm not aware of anything except the tsunami of sexual pleasure that flows over me all warm and delicious. Another wave of it passes over me and then I'm limp and quietly moaning while trying to make sense out of what just happened. Robby, in a very concerned voice, asks, "Are you okay, Dylan? What happened?" His cock is fully impaling me as he leans his head next to mine. I turn my head on the pillow facing him, blushing like mad, sputtering, "I don't know, I um, I don't know. I just felt you were so sexually attractive and I love you so much it caused a premature ejaculation I guess." He rubs the side of his face against mine, murmuring, "That's so sweet of you to say, Dylan. You make me feel so good telling me that, and I love you very much too," and we do an awkward kiss with me straining my neck to the side. Then he asks, "Is it okay if I, you know, continue?" I nod my head and enjoy a fast hard fucking that Robby's mostly getting pleasure from, but it feels good in my ass too. I can't get near another orgasm this quickly though, and with the speed of his humping he climaxes in less than three minutes anyway. He's all red in the face, his chest heaving as he sucks in oxygen, then collapsing on my back with his heart pounding. We lay like this for a couple of minutes with me still feeling very amorous towards Robby, but still confused about that earlier out-of-control twenty-second climax. I've never in my life felt anything that sexual. The closest I can think of is that time a couple of years ago in Ryan's parent's house. It was in their foyer with them home somewhere in the house. We didn't care; Ryan and I experienced a rush of sexual arousal that was completely uncontrollable, but I think this one with Robby was even stronger. It makes me feel foolish though, I mean considering my vast experience with gay sex. Well, there's a lot I don't know about gay sex; I should have said considering the large number of times I've had gay sex. That's why it's embarrassing I climaxed that fast, like a rookie. I turn over on my back with Robby sliding off go me, then I get my arms around him and hug tightly, mumbling, "I can't ever let you get away, Rob. I love and need you too much." He traces his finger down my nose and around my lips, murmuring, "Is it possible you've finally come to love me almost as much as I love you?" That's an old on-going contention of his; that he loves me much more than I love him. Hard to prove one way or the other so I ignore it, quietly saying, "I don't know, Rob. You're the only person I want to live the rest of my life with though, and you make me crazy with sexual desire." He murmurs, "Thanks, babe, right back at you." I go, "Ya know, I was thinking earlier you're the best looking and sexiest guy I've ever, or ever expect to be intimate with, and sometimes I can hardly believe my luck that you love me too. I won't get all maudlin on you, but I admire you and look up to you as well, and um, I think you're perfect. There, I've said all that before, but I wanted to say it again." He snuggles his face against the side of mine, murmuring, "Thank you, Dylan. I've told you a hundred times that I cherish every single thing about you, every hair on your head, every beautiful smile you give me, and simply everything about you is perfect in my eyes and I'm never going to do anything that hurts you, certainly not physically, nor mentally either. We're getting married and I'm going to be the head of the household, and that's the way it's going to be." I mutter, "Perfect." We're quiet for quite some time, maybe an hour, and the whole time we stay in each other's arms caressing one another with quiet murmurs of love. His body is athletic with good muscle definition and feels so manly and sexy under the palms of my hands. His scent thrills me and I like running my fingers through his hair and up the back of his head, then rubbing my nose against his and licking his ear. Robby holds my head between his hands and for the next five minutes gives me a hickey under the left side of my jaw. It's in a spot where everyone will see it, and I couldn't be happier to show it off. I'm feeling dreamily in love and as he continues licking and sucking and kissing on one spot creates a submissive trance in my mind. I float in this erotic trance feeling my heart will burst with love for Robby. When he's satisfied the hickey's big enough, he kisses my lips, murmuring, "There, you're officially mine now. Whaddaya think about that, babe?" I can't even speak for fear my voice will have that crying sound in it. I'm so emotional I hug him and bury my face against the side of his neck, finally managing to murmur, "I want to be yours always, Robby." When I lay over on my stomach, both our cocks are so hard they ache. Robby drags the head of his across my butt checks. It's wet with precum leaving a thin wetness trail in it's wake. He moves it around until bumping it against my asshole. Then his fat hard cock, dripping precum, is steadily pushes past my sphincter muscle and slowly up my ass with me quietly whimpering at the tightness of my stretched anus and the luscious pulsating coming off my prostate gland. Robby pushes his throbbing boner slowly up, up, up my ass until he's laying tightly against my buttocks. He gets a hand under me and lifts us up on our sides, then does five or six full thrust back and forth in my ass as my back arches and I moan, "Ooooh, ooh Robby." His crotch is tight against my buttocks again, one arm over my side with his fingers rubbing my nip-ring. I shudder all over and quietly moan again. He humps against my ass, then does a tantalizingly slow fucking of my ass with us still on our sides and him dragging his left hand across my chest and up to cup my chin. His hard cock slowly moves back and forth in my ass as he pulls my head around so he can kiss the side of my mouth, then rubs his face against the side of mine. It's too wonderful for words as we float on a cloud of love and lust... the only two boys in the world. Such bliss, such indescribable sexual pleasure, and it continues on and on hypnotically until there's tears in my eyes with me hardly believing anything can feel this good, this perfect. I would do this with him forever if we could. Robby doesn't realize how he has me totally dominated in every way possible. He doesn't really think in those terms, but he's become a dominant lover without realizing it. He's giving me the love he feels for me as he fucks me in the exact manner of his choosing when he chooses without thinking to consult me first and nothing could possibly make me happier; it's exactly the way I want it to be. Everything about us fit's together so perfectly we're almost one. By the time our climaxes are on us we're almost delirious with sexual arousal and desire, both making desperate whining noises, and as Robby's need to climax overtakes all other emotions he begins a wild hammering of his boner inside my rectum. We're in the throes of sexual ecstasy now struggling and groaning and sweating. The "Slap, slap,slap," sounds are coming faster and harder until both our bodies get stiff, and then, "AAAAAH!" as we climax together jerking around and almost falling off my twin bed. Another hard thrust up my ass with cum shooting inside me as cum spurts from my cock; three short steaks that almost have me passing out at the enormous explosion of sensations sizzling all over me. All that sexual pleasure, some of it spiking so intensely it's just this side of pain. Then our bodies relax as we do gasping sighs. Both of us limp now as our bodies continue to slide together and we gasp for breath, our hearts thumping in our chests. "Ooh, God! Oooh, that felt so good," Robby blurts out, as I roll over on my back pulling his head with me to lay on my chest, the top of his head at my chin. I cling to him for a minute in a tight grip before relaxing again, and mumbling, "Can we do that all over again?" He rustles around getting on his side, his forearm on the mattress, as he looks down at me, grinning and saying, "I got you now, don't I, Dylan Newman. I got you stuck on me for good this time." I smile at him, murmuring, "Yep, just the way I planned it all along." We do some more kissing and rolling around in bed together getting our cum, mine that I shot on the sheets and Robby's that's drooled out of my ass, smeared all over our asses and torsos. After awhile Robby smacks my ass and tells me, "Get your cute ass out of bed; we need a shower." We take a long shower together grinning and washing each other. When we're clean enough to eat off of I drop to my knees and suck another hard boner on him. Robby looks so sexily in-charge as he pushes me foreword onto my hands and knees. He fingers my asshole, then smacks my ass hard and fucks me really hard doggy style, the sounds of his crotch slapping against my wet butt cheeks is louder than usual, "Slap, slap, slap." It's seven or eight minute of rough fucking and when my climax explodes on me my back arches and my hip thrusts so hard I go down on my forearms with little streaks of cum zipping from my quivering pee slit feeling like a river of cum although the volume was probably a thimble full. Robby continues pounding his fat cock up my ass until he has his third orgasm of the evening and then he slaps my ass hard again, two times before helping me up and we lean against one another hugging. I feel so taken care of, and dare I say dominated? I'm sensing Robby's feeling like 'the man' tonight, which makes me, smile in my heart and soul. It's taken me over three years of molding him to be this perfect. I happily give him all the credit though because it's been his wiliness to adapt into my version of the perfect dominant sex partner; the one I want to spend my life with. It's subtle dominance that's barely noticeable, but which we both acknowledge without the need to verbalize it. Even so, a little reinforcement can't hurt... I kiss him and murmur, "You're my man, Rob," and he rubs my head mumbling, "Yeah, I am, babe, for better or worse." After Robby helps clean my ass for the last time tonight we dry each other, both of us looking contented. We get dressed silently exchanging smiles and, with Robby holding my hand, we walk down to his pickup and do a last kiss goodnight. He says, "Nice date, huh?" I grin and nod. Robby lightly touches my hickey with the pad of his finger, quietly saying, "It's been some time since the last one of these, huh?" I quietly say, "You do a nice hickey, Rob." He snorts a chuckle, murmurs, "Yeah," then gets in his pickup and turns over the engine, gives me a little wave of his hand, and drives away. Watching him until he turns out of view, I take a contended deep breath and go back up the steps and inside. After doing a couple of things in the bathroom, I undress down to my underpants, then hesitate before getting in bed. On the one hand it'd be sexy sleeping in cum-stained sheets, but on the other hand I've just taken a shower. It's fifty-fifty, but I give in and change the bedding, then sleep the good sleep knowing I'm in love with the perfect young man for me. Friday I see very little of Robby at work. Just a thirty second glimpse of him as he talks to his supervisors while I stand next to Bull. My dick actually moves in my pants looking at how authoritative Robby acts in his boss role. Authoritative but friendly too. He's changed so much from the seventeen year old shy boy I first met. Changed only in the best ways as far as I'm concerned. I watch him walk into the supervisors' offices with me feeling extremely pleased about him and me together. This morning all of Murphy's crew works the back area tilling and laying dark green, beautiful grass sod. Bull and I finish planting trees and shrubs, then spread dark mulch around each new planting. Oh my God, the area looks beautiful. The pools filters have been filtering the water since we left the pond yesterday, and I watch one of the men letting some kind of fish loose in the pond. The water's not totally clear yet, so the swimming fish aren't easily spotted although I'm told they will be in a couple of days when the filters done it's thing a little longer. All day the older guys treat me like their mascot, teasing me that a guy with my looks must be shagging everything in a skirt. They seem like a good bunch of older guys. Hard working men, and I admire them. Bull had a chip on his shoulder the first day I worked with him, but turned out to be a pretty good guy after he saw me carrying my own weight and working as hard as I could. Hey, looking at it from his point of view, he was probably pissed-off he needed to work with some young punk who didn't know shit. He probably thought he got a raw deal just like I thought I got the raw deal. We were both wrong. Whatever, back in the locker room changing I realize there's only one week of work left before heading back to Merrimack College. Tomorrow, after his morning meeting, Robby and I are driving to North Andover and signing for our one bedroom apartment. Tonight we have another date, one that couldn't possibly be as perfect as last night's date, but then it doesn't need to be; any date with Robby is very special, especially since I returned from Georgia. Coincidence? to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com ======================================================== Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around 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 ======================================================== Please consider a tax deductible donation of any size to nonprofit Nifty to help with the expense of maintaining this ginormous free story site. Thank you very much. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html