Dylan's Sophomore Year

DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR

Chapter 29

by Donny Mumford

Around eight o'clock Friday night I'm following Sonny up the basement steps of my condo enjoying the view of his cute ass. The ass I just got finished

screwing. Me 'topping' Sonny was his request by the way, and a totally unexpected turn of events I must say! I think maybe fucking Sonny's fine rear end tonight was hotter than topping Robby a couple of mornings ago. That's mostly because Robby and I had already fucked twice that morning with him doing the 'topping' honors. Any third sex act within a two to three hour period, at least for me, isn't going to match up to the first one of the day which is what this sex tonight was for me and Sonny. This morning was one of the few mornings this semester Robby and I didn't get up in time for sex before classes. Sonny was my first side-sex in awhile too, but I'm not even sure if it counts because I 'topped' him, which sort of puts it in more of a 'novelty' category than regular side-sex. Or, maybe not... why split hairs.

We grab bottles of Snapple from the refrigerator and go out on the balcony to drink them and smoke a cigarette. Sonny bums another Marlboro from me and I hold my lighter for him to light his smoke. His head bends down to the lighter and my fingers run through his shiny orange/red hair which I'll be cutting shortly. He looks up smirking cutely at me and as he exhales some smoke, he mumbles, "You still got a crush on me, don'cha? Don't lie!" He's been a flirt from the night I met him early last summer. It was the night he sat on my lap on our way to watch Ray's basketball game. We didn't know each other at all, but he still squirmed on my lap trying to get my dick hard, and he succeeded if I recall correctly. What a hot ass on that kid. I mumble sarcastically, "Yeah sure, Sonny, I got a crush on you, but then who could resist your charm?" Lighting my cigarette I inhale some nicotine, which is what gets a person hooked on cigarettes I'm told. Blowing smoke out, I'm curious, "Did you have any trouble cutting back on these cancer sticks, Sonny?" He shakes his head, "Nah, I was only smoking three or four cigarettes a day most days. Now most days I don't smoke any. Basically I've given-up buying them, heh heh. When someone else is smoking, I'll smoke if they offer me one. Most of the guys I know don't smoke anyway. Why do you ask, are you thinking about quitting?" I shrug noncommittally trying to remember how and why I started smoking. Well I know why... it was to look cool. At least I I thought it was cool, but when did I start? I think it was eight grade when I bought my first pack. Mostly I just wanted to have it in my shirt pocket for other guys to see. Then they'd know I was, 'that dude'. Stupid, but whaddaya gonna do. Kids! Now it's a habit, one of many I've picked-up over my lifetime. To his question, I say, "I'm thinking about, 'thinking about', quitting," and blow smoke at his cute face.

Sonny waves his hand at my exhaled smoke, saying, "Dude, don't do that. Ya know, tonight when I asked you to fuck me after the shampoo, it totally blew my mind. I had no idea I was going to do that. You're dangerously sexy, ya know that?" I go, "That absurd, Sonny, I'm no more sexy than a lot of guys. Admit it, you're just a horny kid exploring your sexuality. It's not that big a deal." He asks, "Didn't fucking me turn you on?" I shrug, "Hell yeah, whaddaya think? You're a cute guy with a hot body, and I'm gay. Why wouldn't I be turned-on?" He blows exhaled smoke away from us, then mumbles, "Well, don't get your hopes up about an encore performance because there ain't gonna be one. I'm the dominant sex partner here, and you're my submissive 'boy', right?" He's picking at the back of his pants as he asked that question. Some of my cum has probably drooled out of his rectum and it's sticky. I go, "Yeah, we can play it that way if you want, sure. The key word here is 'play', as in sex play. Don't let it go to your head 'cause my boyfriend is gonna be my boyfriend forever. We, you and me, Sonny, are merely casual sex-buddies." He says, "And friends too, right?" I nod my head, mumbling, "Yeah, that too. Hey, are you really screwing that kid, Giggles, three times a week?" He shrugs, "One week I did. The first week we did it. Man, that was hot!" and he grabs his junk, then adds, "Since then we don't do it so much." I'm like, "Huh." Nice to know Sonny's truthful anyway. Most guys would go the other way and exaggerate their sexual exploits.

To make conversation, I ask, "Have you ever been in love, Sonny? Romantic love is what I'm talking about?" He emphatically says, "Fuck no! Definitely not. I haven't come close to being in romantic love and I'm not even sure I'd recognize it if I ever run into it. I kinda doubt I ever will though, but I've sure had my share of crushes on guys at school. Horribly painful crushes that blind my brain for awhile. Secret crushes only I knew about. Puppy love I guess." I say, "Yeah, young love is a powerful thing, but often stupid too." He points his cigarette at me, saying, "You know, you and Ray were my inspiration for coming clean about being gay. First I came 'out' to the posse boys, and then my other friends. Surprisingly no one seemed to give much of a shit about it. It was like, 'Oh yeah, dude? Cool!'. Then last week I told my parents and they've been super supportive. I expected more support from Devon though, but instead he's acting funny about it." Hmmm, "Yeah, funny like how?" Sonny shrugs, "I don't know, I can't put my finger on it. He tells me to be myself, but without a lot of brotherly love like I expected." I go, "He's a good guy, Sonny. Maybe he isn't sure what the right thing to do or say is." I'm thinking maybe Devon's wondering if Sonny and I have done it together. He would probably think that's it's disloyal of me somehow since Devon and me have done it too. Not wanting to bring Devon any further into our conversation, I mumble, "You know, I'm not at all sure if I feel good about being partially responsible for you coming 'out' to your parents. Did you mention me when you told them?" He goes, "Of course not! Anyway, what's it feel like to be in love?" Oh, back to that. I shrug stepping on my cigarette butt, then say, "I don't think I can describe it. People in literature have tried putting it into words for like centuries. If you ask me, a lot of what's been said about love is corny and hackneyed. Stuff you read on greeting cards, that kinda shit. Everyone sees love differently I guess. Like, lets say there's this husband and wife at the mall. The wife's doing something she loves to do... she's shopping. During her shopping she realizes her husband has gone missing. She looks all over for him, but he's nowhere to be found. Finally she thinks to call his cell phone, mad at herself for not thinking of it sooner. The husband answers right away speaking quietly and calmly, nothing out of the ordinary. She wants to know where he is and he tells her, 'Remember that jewelry store we were in two years ago and you fell in love with that diamond necklace we couldn't afford, and I promised to get it for you one day?' The wife gets all choked-up and emotional, a tender loving moment. She gets over emotional and starts to sob, saying, 'Yes, dear, yes I remember.' The husband say, 'Well, I'm in the bar next door'. You see, that was almost a love story, right? The wife felt it was gonna be romantic and the husband was simply being specific about where he was."

Sonny chuckles, "That was a joke, right?" I go, "Somebody apparently thought so, yeah." He shakes his head, "You're cool, Dylan. It's fun hanging out with you." I'm like, "Huh! How about I do your haircut now. What's it gonna be? What kind of haircut do you want?" He flicks his cigarette butt off the railing and it comes right back at him. I mutter, "You're spastic!" He grins and kicks it off the balcony and we walk inside. Sonny's running his fingers through his clean, just shampooed hair, as I ask again, "What kind of haircut are you thinking you'll get?" Going down the steps to the basement, he says, "I don't know what it's called, but have you noticed this outrageous new haircut that's short on the sides and back, but long on top?" Huh, I was just thinking about that exact haircut not too long ago. As I get the clippers out and plug them both in, I'm like, "What a coincidence, Sonny, I looked that hair style up on Google recently because it intrigued me. You know, I Googled, 'Men's hair trends'. The haircut's got an odd name, 'Short Sides with Disconnected Top'. Weird huh?" Sonny shrugs, "Whatever it's called, that's what I'm leaning towards getting. Terry Byers, my bud at school, got a haircut like that and he dared me to get one just like it. Frankly I think it's fucking hot. It's like ballsy and sexy too, ya know?" He sits on the barber stool as I go, "Yeah, I gotta agree with you, it is ballsy and sexy because it's like so radical. Is this kid gay?" Sonny makes a face, "Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure he's not." I mutter, "Most guys aren't."

Standing behind Sonny I pull his sweatshirt up and he lifts his arms so I can pull the thing over his head. Then his tee-shirt comes off and wow, he's has a really nice scent drifting off his hot little pinkish-white body. I enjoyed it when he took his shirt off for the shampoo and I'm enjoying it again right now. It's like his personal scent is captured inside his shirt, building-up in intensity until released by taking off the shirt; then poof, a smell of concentrated Sonny. Curious, I ask, "Sonny, does this kid you're fucking, Giggles, ever mention how good you smell?" He looks at me like I'm crazy, "What? No, he never said anything like that. Do I have BO or something?" I go, "No, don't be ridiculous, but haven't you noticed how different guys have different scents? Some with a sexy scent?" He says, "Um, no, Dylan, I don't go around smelling guys. Do you?" Huh, that's weird! "No, I don't do that either but when I'm being intimate with a guy I notice his scent, if he has one. It's called pheromones, which is the scent given off and perceived one way or another by different people, depending on something. I don't know exactly how it works, but you should Google it because it's a real thing." He mutters, "I probably won't do that, but how about my haircut?" I'm like, "Yeah, well, in the article for men's hair trends they say a number one guide is used, which is aggressively short, all the way up the sides of the head until the head start to round. Then in the back all the way up to the crown," and I touch the crown that's at the top, back of his head. He goes, "Holy shit, that sounds scary short. How long is the hair on top?" I go, "I wouldn't even touch the hair on top of your head, not for this haircut anyway because the article said it should be longer than your hair is right now. They say four inches, but I've seen hair longer than that on top. You know, I've seen pictures in magazines. Oh, have you seen the lead singer for the rock group, 'The 1775'? He has a version of that haircut with really long hair on top." Sonny turns his head to look at me, "What do you think, Dylan, should I do it?"

I take this opportunity to run my fingers through his hair again, saying, "Jeez, I don't want to influence you, Sonny. How short is the hair on the sides and back of your friend at school?" He shrugs, "I don't know exactly, but it looked like bare clippers were used, almost shaved." Hmmm, "Well, like I said it's recommended a number one clipper blade which leaves the hair at between one-eight and one-sixteenth of an inch long, something like that. And yeah, that's almost bare clippers length, although clippers without a guide leave hair half the length of a number one guard." He's like, "One thirty-second of an inch?" I go, "Yep, about that. What's it gonna be?" He's making a face, then mutters, "Maybe I'm chickening out. Talk me into it, Dylan, I really want to try it." Hmmm, it'd be awesome fun cutting his hair that wicked short, and I'm interested in seeing if I can make it look right. Still, it's gotta be his choice. "You gotta decide, Sonny, I'm not going to influence you one way or the other. I'm just the barber following orders." Sonny, always a ballsy confident kid anyway, goes, "Fuck it, lets do it. Use the number one whatever." Oh boy...

Before he changes his mind, I put the number one guard on the clippers and turn them on. Putting my left hand on top of his head to push it forward a little, I steadily run the clippers all the way up the back of his head. Lots and lots of orange/red hair tumbles off the professional barber clippers and across my hand, some falling on his shoulders and some down to the floor. For this first cut I ran the clippers a tiny bit over the crown. The contrast between the very short almost nonexistent hairs and longer ones is the 'disconnected top' part of the haircut's name. The clippers go up the back of his head again right next to the first cut with me being careful to stop exactly where the first cut stopped. I repeat this a number of times causing tons of shiny hair, so silky and fine, to tumble away severed forever from his head and destined for the trash bin. It's a little scary because cutting someone's hair this short is uncharted territory for me, and certainly for Sonny. At the same time it's kind of cool doing it. Finished the back, I'm really feelin' it now and start on the right side of his head at the sideburn taking the clippers, tight against his scalp, way up the side of his head to just where there's obvious rounding, and do that over and over with almost all his hair falling away. As I use the clippers I'm continuing to hold Sonny's head still with my left hand in the hair on top of his head, pushing his head over to the left a little. These clippers do their job effortlessly. Sonny hasn't murmured a word so far and now I start on the left side of his head. More hairs fall over my hand, lots of them, some drifting to his lap or shoulders, but mostly they end-up on the floor. It's been a blizzard of orange/red hairs falling around us as almost three inches of hair is sheared off close to his whitish scalp all around the sides and back of his head. When there's no more hair to cut on the sides and back, I go over everything again to make sure it's even, then turn the clippers off. Sonny, in this scared little boy's voice I haven't heard him use before, asks, "How's it look, Dylan?"

Moving the back of my fingers up against the side of his head, I think, 'Sandpaper' because that's what it feels like. The tiny bit of hair that's left around his head is so short it looks pale red, not orange, so that's good anyway. It feels odd against the back of my fingers and it looks kinda fucked-up to be honest about it. Hmmm, I'll try doing a small amount of tapering on the side where the long hairs start. I start on the left side where a part would be, if there was any hair to make a part, which there isn't. I'm hoping this improves the look, so I mumble, "Um, I need to do a little more work, but with a comb and scissors now, so keep your head still. I'll tell you how it looks when I'm done with the scissors." Sonny's like, "Oh fuck, that doesn't sound encouraging." Ignoring that, I use a comb and scissors to cut the slightest adjustment in length along where a part would be and then blunt the long hairs on the right side of his head where it meets the shaved part. Then a little tapering at the crown and it immediately im proves the look of the haircut. Prior to seeing a number of guys with this haircut, like when I first saw Julian Endelman of the Patriots, I thought it looked like a shitty home haircut. The more I saw the haircut on guys though, the shock of seeing it lessens and it began to seem cool. Perception is a weird thing, ain't it? A little more scissor work and then I use the trimmers to outline around Sonny's ears and it's as good as it's going to get. I comb the long hairs on top across to the right side of his head, and say, "It looks exactly like you'd expect it to look, Sonny. I like it, but it's pretty extreme as you already know from your friend. Here take a look for yourself," and I pass him the handheld mirror. He looks, feels the extremely short hairs on the back of his head, runs his fingers through the long hairs, then says, "Help me convince myself this was a good idea, Dylan." I'm like, "No seriously, Sonny, it's cool. As with anything it's a matter of opinion as to what's cool and what's not, of course. I'll tell you this much: if I could grow my hair out long enough, I'd get a haircut just like this myself," which puts me near the 4000 mark with my little white lies total. "No, I do think it looks cool, but they'll be those style-challenged individuals who won't like it because it's so new and different." He says, "I've gotta get used to it, I guess. Same thing when you gave us posse boys crew cuts last summer. It's a matter of getting use to the change." I say, "Just for the record, that was Ray's idea, not mine."

I'm brushing hairs off his skinny shoulders, then I give him a hug and a kiss, saying, "It's a cool do, dude." He grins, saying, "Yeah, well, don't you expect to be growing your hair out long enough for this hair style. Not if I have anything to say about it." I'm shaking my head, "Sonny, you're not cutting my hair. I told you that ten times already." He gets off the stool brushing long hairs off his lap, mumbling, "We'll see about that," then he looks around, and goes, "Holy shit, look at all the hair on the floor!" I'm like, "Yeah, well..." and put away the barber tools. I've got this toiletry kit I use now to hold the barber stuff because I keep carrying it back and forth to Merrimack. Sonny can't stop feeling the sandpaper-hair at the back of his head, finally shrugging and I suppose admitting to himself what's done can't be undone. He says, unconvincingly, "Yeah, it's cool. Thanks, Dylan! Thanks for dinner and the haircut. Let's take a ride over to Treadwells and see if any of the guys are out tonight. I wanna see what they think." I was kinda looking forward to Sonny dominating my ass sexually tonight. It's been awhile since I've had a sub/dom sex experience. Acting too anxious for it though sorta takes away from the dominant part. It'd be like I'm asking him to dominate me which detracts from it somehow. So, I say, "Sure thing, assuming it hasn't started raining again. Riding a motorbike in the rain isn't what I call fun."

I can't stop looking a Sonny's haircut as we go upstairs. I think this new style works better on guys who have a little darker hair coloring than Sonny's. Light brown at least, and I wouldn't do it for a blond unless he insisted. Sonny's cute though so at the top of the steps I get him in a headlock

and run my fingers first over the sandpaper part at the back and then into the luxurious long hairs on top. He squirms out of my hold, muttering, "Stop it! What the fuck?" I go, "I just want you to know that you look damn cool, Sonny. It's really a cute 'do' on you." Now he's running his fingers through his long hairs gazing at himself in the wall mirror over the sofa. "Yeah, this cut is growing on me. I'm liking it more each time I look at it." I mumble, "Trend starter! Sonny, that's you." Then my doorbell rings. Who the fuck is that? Sonny and I look at each other, then I shrug and open the door. Dawg and another posse boy, brainiac Manny, stand there grinning at me. Dawg has a plastic bag of something by his side and behind him is a smaller, younger version of himself. The younger version is sullen, looking at me out of the corner of his eye, and he's not smiling. I didn't know he had a younger brother, but that's who it's gotta be. Dawg, Manny, and I look at each other for another second or two, then I shrug holding my palms out, like "What's up?' Dawg says, "Oh, we saw Sonny's buddy, Giggles, at the mall and he said Sonny was getting his haircut tonight." He nods his head at Manny, adding, "We thought maybe we could get our haircut too, and, um, maybe my little brother, if you don't mind." The little brother looks away and coughs out, "Eff that..." Dawg makes a face at him, then tells me, "I'm baby sitting him tonight. This is Charles, Charles say hello to, Dylan." Charles coughs, but again it's not really a cough; it's covering up Charles saying, "Eat me." He said it to either me or Dawg, I'm not sure which one.

Frowning, I say, "Wassup, Charles?" and hold out my fist to bump, but he looks away and it's like there's some kind of expectancy under the attitude. Dawg says, "He's at a difficult age." I ask, "How old are you, Charles, "He

cough into his fist, "Up yours," and Dawg says, "Charles, be nice!" then to me, "He's twelve till next month, then he'll be a teenager." I go, "Oh, still a tweener huh, Charles?" thinking to myself, 'Well this probably totally fuck's-up the sub/dom possibilities with Sonny tonight'. Dawg and Manny are not gay boys, and Charles is too young to even think about. Sonny worms his way in front of me, asking, "Whaddaya you guys thing of my haircut?" They both open their eyes wide, then Manny points at Sonny, "Hey, you copied that haircut from that Patriot guy, Julian what's-his-name." Sonny goes, "No I didn't, Manny, I copied it from a bud of mine at school, ya dumb shit." Then he grins and goes to do the posse boy greeting. Dawg puts down the bag he was holding and joins in and we all end up doing it, minus Charles, who looking at us like we have two heads. Whatever happened to idolizing your older brother? Then I glance at all Dawg's piercing's and tattoos, and figure, 'Well, yeah, there's that'. I don't hardly noticing them on Dawg anymore. When I first saw him though my eyes just about bugged out of my head. I mumble, "You boys broke-up the posse, so why are we still doing this greeting?" Dawg gives me a nice hug, saying, "We like doing it, don't we guys?" Manny says, "Yeah, we're not misanthropes, Dylan." I go, "Um, I'm not either! I don't think I am anyway."

They come inside and Sonny's like, "Well, whaddaya think?" meaning his haircut. Manny says, "You're styling, Sonny, no doubt about it. I don't think I

could pull off that look myself though." Charles is pouting and looking bored leaning up against the front door with his arms folded across his chest. Dawg says, in his quiet way, "I couldn't pull it off either, but it's cool on you, Sonny," and Sonny tells them, "You watch, this haircut is gonna be on everyone by the end of the year. Remember in like second grade when we all made fun of the first kid with a mushroom haircut, and then before the end of the year we all ended up getting that haircut? This is gonna be that all over again." Manny and Dawg shrug, like, "Whatever," and Charles makes a coughing sound, sort of like he saying, "Assholes." Sweet kid. Sonny uses his cellphone to take a 'selfie' of his haircut, saying, "I'm sending this to Giggles. See what that boy thinks about my haircut." Dawg says, "How 'bout it, Dylan, can we get haircuts tonight?" I look at Sonny, who's busy texting his fuck buddy. Oh well, resigned there won't be any sub/dom sex tonight, I mumble, "Yeah, sure guys, come on downstairs. What's in the bag?" Dawg says, "Eight cans of beer. My dad has a refrigerator in the garage full of beer. He won't notice I stole some." I go, "Hey, cool! What kind is it?" He looks in the bag, "Um, it's Heineken." Manny says, "Premium beer, dude. I like those green cans too." I roll my eyes. Kids! Who cares about the color of the cans. Dawg nudges Charles, mumbling, "No beer for you, bro, okay?" Charles coughs, "Prick." Sonny snickers at that as we all go downstairs with Sonny bringing up the rear, saying, "You guys are gonna love getting Dylan's shampoo. I almost dozed off during it." Nothing from Charles that I could hear, but I'm glad I can't read his mind.

In the basement Dawg says, "Um, Dylan, can you give Charles his haircut first? There's a show he wants to see on TV in a half hour." Charles goes, "Eff that, I'm not getting a haircut from him." Dawg says, "He's better'n those women barbers at Supercuts, Charles. Way better!" I say, "Come on, Charles, I'll shampoo your hair first." He yells, "Fag!" I shrug, giving Dawg an exaggerated 'look', and he quietly says, "Go ahead, Charles. It won't take long and you'll be watching TV in a few minutes." Charles mutters one of his favorite responses to anything, "Eff that." Manny's helpfully adds, "You get to keep the twenty bucks your mom gave you for a haircut too." Charles' eyes light up, "Really, Dawg?" Dawg's nodding his head as I go, "Yeah, dude, I don't charge for haircuts." He takes a deep breath, "Okay, but I'm no baby so you don't need to shampoo my hair." I put my hand on his shoulder, saying, "Yeah, I do, it makes for easier haircutting. Go on in the little bathroom there." A coughed, "Dork," from Charles, but he goes into the half bath with me following as I hear behind me the familiar sound of beer can tabs being snapped opened. I go back and grab a can of beer for myself and snap the tab, then guzzle some beer. Charles is just standing in the half bath when I walk in, so I tell him, "Have a seat, dude." He looks at me, asking, "You gay? Dawg says you're gay." I go, "Dawg's right, why?" He says, "Stay away from my dick and my ass, got it!" I give him a 'look', then ask, "What charm school did you go to, Charles?" He frowns, "What?" I'm like, "Sit the fuck down. I couldn't care less about your dick or your ass." He sits, asking, "Why not? Don't you think I'm sexy enough?" I go, "You're not old enough to be sexy, so no, you're not sexy to me, no offense intended." He coughs, "Jerk-off," and I say, "You ought to do something about that cough, Charles. You know, see a doctor or something." Yeah, a child psychiatrist.

He asks, "Can I have a swallow of your beer?" I pass him the can and he rubs the place I drank from with his grubby hand, then guzzles some beer making a face. Heineken is a tad bitter. I ask, "Where's that hand of yours been? The one you wiped the top of the can with." Smirking, he makes the jerk-off motion of moving his loose fist up and down. It almost makes me laugh. This kid is too much. Taking the can back I drink from it without wiping his sloppy saliva off, as he mutters, "Icky." I go, "Take your shirt off so it doesn't get wet when I'm shampooing your hair." He makes a face and looks away, so I've had enough of this shit, telling him, "Okay, go watch your TV show, fuck the haircut." He looks at me frowning and pouting at the same time, then takes his shirt off over his head without unbuttoning it. Charles has a lot of light-brown very straight hair on his head. It's parted in the middle and hanging down well over his ears. He's also got a skinny pink body with his ribs showing and a chest that's almost concave. He's got slumped, rounded shoulders and all around bad posture. Sexy? Nope! Charles' body is the opposite of his pumped brother's who's been weight lifting for three years. Tilting the chair back against the sink, I wet the kid's hair and rub in the shampoo. Massaging the shampoo into his hair while rubbing his scalp with my fingers tips, he mutters, "Having fun? Gettin' your rocks off?" He looks like Dawg which is to say he has average looks, nothing special but nothing horrible either. He's obviously not very likable where Dawg's impossible not to like. I ask him, "Do you have any friends, Charles?" He says, "Sort of, well one, why?" I go, "Just wondered. Your brother's such a likable kid and I wondered why you're not, that's all." He's like, "Fuck you,

I'm likable. My brother's the rents' favorite, that's the situation I'm in. Shit, I'm the black sheep in the family because I don't get my nose pierced and tattoos out my giggie like Dawg. My parents are aging hippies from the seventies, and I think it's stupid. This shampoo is stupid too."

Huh, I think aging hippies are stupid too, but I don't say that. Running my fingers through his long soapy hair, smoothing the hairs from front to back, I say, "Is that the only reason you're so confrontational? You're parents are ex-hippies." He shrugs his slumped shoulders, mumbling, "I'm not confrontational. Everybody else is though." Sulking again, his eyebrows furrowed like it's Charles against the world. I kind of feel sorry for him. "Your brother seems to like you, Charles. Are you saying you don't get along with your parents?" He says, "Dawg's great, but my parents say I have an attitude, that I think I know everything, that I'm always angry, and it's like nothing I do is right." Rinsing his hair now, I say, "You're into puberty, Charles, and there's lots of things happening in your body. Things like your voice changing, and your body's probably sprouting hair here and there, and you might be wondering if you're normal. Well there is no specific normal, everyone of us is a little different. Try being nice for a change and see how that works out for ya." He says sarcastically, "Oh, that's really deep and insightful. Maybe you're the one who thinks he knows it all." I mumble, "See, you're being confrontational right there." He mutters, "You do it too, you blame everything on me." I almost laugh. "Um, did you even consider maybe you're not the only kid in the parade that's marching in step?" He asks, "What's that suppose to mean?" I'm drying his hair with a towel, saying, "Just that sometimes it's you who are wrong, you're the one out of step and not everybody else like you say. Try looking at things through the other person's perspective." He twists around to look at me, "Did you get a boner shampooing my hair?" Maybe I don't feel bad for him after all. I go, "Don't flatter yourself, Charles."

The hairdryer's too loud for conversation, which is just as well since we aren't communicating anyway. When his hair is dry I comb it all forward and it reaches below his nose. "What kind of a haircut do you want?" He uses his fingers to part the hair, exposing his eyes, and says, "I don't know. You think you know it all so what haircut do you think I should get?" I shrug, "How long have you had this hair style?" He goes, "I've always had long hair. Dawg used to have a ponytail." I say, "I know that, it was me who gave him a flattop." Charles goes, "Why'd you do that?" "Because he asked me to. Why else?" He's like, "What haircut are you going to give him this time?" I chuckle, "Whichever one he tells me he wants. I'm just the humble barber." He wants to know, "Do you like cutting guy's hair?" I say, "Yeah, I think it's fun. Let's ask your brother how he wants his hair cut, okay" An elaborate shrug from Charles. I pat his shoulder, "Lets go, stud, and you can ask him." He picks up his shirt, but doesn't put it on, and we join the guys who are watching TV and drinking beer laughing about something. I ask, "What so funny, guys?" Manny says, "Oh nothing, Sonny's a blatherskite that's all. Plus he's often wrong about what he says although he's never in doubt." The rest of us exchange eye rolls because we're used to Manny dropping ridiculous words on us every now and then.

Charles asks, "What kinda haircut you getting, Dawg?" Dawg says, "I'm leaning towards the blatherskite's haircut, and Manny goes, "It's 'blather 'skite', not 'skate'." More eyes roll as Charles goes, "Really, bro, like the redhead's haircut?" Dawg shrugs, and quietly says,"Yeah, that's right up my alley, little brother. It's outlandish and really different, like me." Dawg always speaks softly although his appearance might lead you to think he's a member of a outlaw motorcycle gang. Charles is shaking his head, muttering, "I can't go there," then he looks at me, "You're the know it all barber, what do you think?" I think I'd like to shoot this kid. I mumble, "Sit on the fuckin' stool, Charles" he frowns at me, "Ya don't have to be mean about it." He's right, I don't. So I smile at him giving his shoulders a hug, saying, "I'm sorry, Charles." Amazingly he leans into me when I expected the opposite... a stiff body with him offended by a shoulder hug from a gay guy. I rub his hair, saying, "I've got an idea for a haircut that would be just right for you." Sitting on the stool, he asks,"What is it?" I describe the hair style that's fairly short, the hair on top combed forward and the bangs combed up in front, "Or you could spike the hairs on top." The other three guys are paying no attention to us as they argue and laugh about nothing important. I describe a number of haircut possibilities for Charles to consider. He seems to be interested in a couple of the choices although he can't make a decision. I finally say, "Actually there's no need to change your hair style at all, Charles. I can neaten up the ends and you keep the part in the middle, like you've always had." He asks, "Why are you being nice to me? Nobody else is."

Good question? Maybe I remember being twelve and the changes that were taking place in me around that time. Chubby too. Jeez, it's around then that he

wanted to shave his legs so he wouldn't have hair on them, and there were other weird things we did too. We had each other though and we're the same age so we could discuss what was happening as we grew. It doesn't look like Charles has that special 'other' person to commiserate with. I say, "Gee, Charles, why wouldn't I be nice to you?" He shrugs, "I don't know, nobody else is." I go, "I know your brother is nice to you," and he says, "Yeah, him and my friend, but that's about it." I chuckle, "And now me, right?" He nods his head, then says, "Yeah, and I want you to decide my haircut. I can't decide." I'm combing through his very dense hair, noticing he's got the good hairline across his forehead like Dawg, so any haircut will look good on him. I ask, "Okay, lets narrow down the possibilities. First, do you want a change?" He nods his head, "Uh huh," and I ask, "Do you want to try short hair?" He mumbles, "I think so, but I'm afraid it'll look funny." I say, "Nah, you're a nice looking kid with great hair so it won't look funny." He says, "My brother had short hair all last summer for the first time in his life and I was kinda wishing I did too, but barbers are pricks. Um, I don't mean you though. I guess I want a really short haircut to start a new me." That's a fucking good idea right there. Especially the start a new 'me' part. I say, "Really short is a radical change for you, Charles. Wouldn't it be better to do it in stages?" He asks, "Are you saying something like a buzz cut for instance wouldn't look okay on me?" I say, "No, of course it would look good on you assuming you like buzz cuts. If you don't like 'em it won't look good to you." He says, "Danny has a buzz cut." I go, "Who's Danny?" Charles looks at me, "He's the friend I told you about." He did? I go, "Buzz cut it is then. Will you're parents be okay with it?" He says, "Now they probably will because Dawg was the first one in our family with a short haircut and they're used to it by now, but Dawg took some shit from them at first. My old man has that dumb looking layered over the ears haircut he's had since the seventies and he's fifty four years old with a bald spot on top. Looks stupid." Yeah, it does sound pretty stupid, but I don't say that.

Giving the back of his skinny neck a squeeze, I say, "Okay then, a buzz cut it is," and he's like, "Don'cha got a cape to put around me?" I shake my head, "It's being cleaned. Just don't put your shirt back on and it'll be fine." Which makes me remember when Sonny took his shirt off and his sexy boyish scent drifted off him. None of that from Charles so maybe he hasn't developed a scent yet being he's just starting puberty and all. Dawg calls over, "Wha'cha getting, Charles?" He says, "Buzz cut. Whaddaya think about that?" Dawg shrugs, "Yeah, you're joining the twenty-first century at last, bro. Cool!" Charles almost grins. As I'm changing the clipper guard to the half inch one, I say, "You should grin more, Charles. That's a cool look for you, and maybe even a smile once in awhile. Is that something you've ever tried doing?" He coughs into his fist, "Fuckwad," grinning like mad. The first real grin I've seen from him. Him grinning is the cuteness I knew was in him somewhere. Awesome grin with dimples and everything. I tousle his hair, saying, "I knew you could do it," and he grins again, saying, "Maybe I just needed a gay barber to make me grin," and he's grinning again, as I mutter, "Apparently." Two haircuts in a row with tons of hair being mowed from their heads. Works for me! Lots of hair falling and it's a blast. In Charles' case there's ten inch lengths of light brown hair cascading from the clipper blades. It's enough to get my dick's attention.

After I finish his haircut I give him the mirror and as his hand feels all over his head, he's grinning again, saying, "Oh man, is Danny ever gonna shit in his pants when he sees me tomorrow! Whoa!" His first thought is about his friend's reaction. Friends are more precious than gold. I'm brushing hairs off his shoulders, asking, "This buzz cut doesn't freak you out, Charles? It's a monstrous change from your long hair." He says, "Nah, I like it. I'd never have the balls to do this with a regular barber, but you let me talk myself into it. I've been thinking about getting a buzz cut from the first time I saw my brother's short haircut. It was a buzz too." Huh, maybe he does idolize Dawg. Dawg seems to like Charles just fine. First impressions aren't always accurate. I pat Charles on the shoulder, then rub his head all over with both hands getting little snippets of cut hairs off his head. He gets up brushing off his lap, mumbling, "Thanks, um, Dylan." The first time he's used my name. He looks much better with the buzz cut. Charles goes over to the TV and the guys rub his head with Charles reluctantly smiling. We drink beers as I shampoo and give haircuts to Dawg and then Manny with Manny telling me, "Sonny's always been a good likable kid although he's prone to tautology, beating the same point to death until I could scream. It's like, I got it already, Sonny." I go, "Yeah, huh." Whatever the fuck...

It's nine o'clock by the time I'm done with the haircuts. It's been fun although sub/dom sex with Sonny would have been more fun. The guys want to see if any of the other guys are at Treadwells, so what the hell I guess I'll go too. We all help with the clean-up and then up the stairs to go. Outside now and thankfully it's not raining, so Sonny says, "Well okay, we won't get wet on my bike." Charles pulls on my sweatshirt, saying, "Ride with us, Dylan." Sonny say, "Sorry little, dude, he's my boyfriend and he rides with me." Charles goes, "Holy fuck, you're gay too? Really?" Sonny goes, "Yep, how 'bout you?" Charles is shaking his head, "No way I'm a fag," and I give him a 'look'. He mutters, "Um, I mean 'gay'." I rub his head, "See you over there Charles. I wanna buy you a sundae because your's is the best haircut of the night. My favorite." He almost grins, sucking on his lips, then he mutters, "Okay, see you there, Dylan," and he gets in Dawg's car. Sonny gives me his 'look' for a second or two, then says, "What the fuck ya talking about. Mine is the best haircut tonight." I'm putting the helmet on, "Yeah, it was, but I wanted to make Charles feel good about himself." Sonny goes, "Okay Mister Rogers, get on behind me and hold me tight around my waist. We'll see what the guys at Treadwell think of my 'do' and then I'm taking you to my place to show you who your man is." I get on the motorbike chuckling, "I already know who that is and it ain't you." I'm snug up against him, my crotch against his ass as he mutters, "Your man tonight, I mean." He starts the motorbike and revs the engine, saying, "I hope Ray's at Treadwells 'cause he'll be jealous of me because you're my boyfriend now," and here we go, the front wheels off the ground with another wheelie leaving rubber as we roar away.

It's too chilly for a motorbike ride but Sonny's body blocks most of the wind. He's gotta be freezing although I'm tight against his slender taut body so we're sharing body heat. It looks like Sonny and me are going to have the sub/dom sexual experience after all. I've got to make damn sure though that Sonny's parents will not get home from wherever they're at while Sonny and I are fucking. Somehow I don't think Sonny will think of that concern on his own. If he can't convince me we positively won't be surprised by one of his family popping in early, I'm not doing it. We arrive at Treadwell's, which is a ice cream parlor with sports facilities like a driving range, baseball cages with automatic pitching, a putting green, and a big miniature golf complex. All those activities are warm weather ones so it's primarily the ice cream that attracts people during cold weather. They serve fast food restaurant-type food too. It's a place to hang out basically. When we pull up to the restaurant there are guys and girls in clusters outside with a number of them smoking. Inside there are groups of young people too, in addition to older people who just want the ice cream. The rest of the scene the older folks tolerate because the home made ice cream is that good. Generic rock music plays both inside and out. There's undoubtedly some underage drinking going on outside as well.

Sonny locks his bike and our hamlets, then he uses a small pocket comb to comb his hair over to the side, asking, "How's your boyfriend look, Dylan." I say, "The last time I saw him he looked hot. Why do you ask?" He's like, "Not Dickers, I'm your boyfriend tonight," and I go, "No you're not, Sonny. We're friends and occasional fuck-buddies... not boyfriends." He mumbles, "Come on, I see Ray's car, lets go inside." Then Dawg drives in and parks. I say, "Lets wait for them," and Sonny's muttering, "Okay, but you are so my boyfriend tonight whether you think so or not." He takes my hand, but I pull it away, chuckling to myself. Sonny combs his hair again, whining, "All of a sudden I'm nervous no one will like my new 'do'." Charles comes right up to me, saying, "I'm thinking hot fudge sundae with M&Ms, Dylan, a large one." I go, "You got it, dude, 'cause you're cool." He coughs, "Liar," and I get him in a headlock, saying, "I am not lying, you're looking cool, dude," then I give his buzz cut a nookie. He doesn't try getting out of the headlock like Sonny did. Charles has his arm loosely around my waist leaning into me. Oh, I gotta watch myself with this young kid, who seems to have taken a liking to me. I let go of him, saying, "Okay, lets get that sundae." Dawg, Manny, and Sonny are ragging on each other's haircuts, but I know they like them. I can tell because these guys are like an open book most of the time. I think they're as likable a group as any I know. There's a innocence about them and maybe that's how I was two years ago too, although that's hard to believe.

The trio follow Charles and me inside and then they go right over to say 'hi' to Ray and the guys with him. Ray's holding court like the old days with Bean, Jameson, and a third stocky kid I don't know. The four of them are sitting around a big table. Devon isn't here tonight and I'm kind of glad he's not, what with Sonny and me having sex and all. Sonny calls over to me, "Dylan, get over here," and I laughingly give him the finger. Charles chuckles. Sonny would love to see me jumping when he says 'jump' like Ray had me doing for a few weeks last summer. I get embarrassed just thinking about that now. We're in line waiting to order as Charles asks, "What's it like being gay?" I shrug, "It's fine except it's kinda hard sometimes finding a date because only one out of ten guys is supposedly gay. That's the statistic I believe is accepted by most people who deal with that sort of thing." He asks, "Are you the redheaded kid's boyfriend?" I laugh, "Um, no, I'm not, but he likes to pretend I am." Charles nods his head, mumbling, "I can see why you're popular. Bet it's nice being popular." I say, "I'm not popular, no more than most guys." He says, "Yeah, you are. I see how the guys are with you and I hear what they say. Everybody likes you." I go, "No they don't Charles. Some people don't like me even a little bit." He makes a face and says something under his breath I can't make out, and I don't even want to know what it is. I can't help but wonder if he's thinking he might be gay and that's a reason he's such a contrarian and seems to have a problem getting along with people.

The sundae Charles orders cost me seven dollars. Hmmm, my cone is two bucks. We're walking over to the group where they're all talking about Sonny's haircut, mostly ragging on it, but in good fun. Sonny sees me coming towards them, and says, "Ah, here comes my boyfriend now." Oh fuck! Ray looks at me shaking his head, then says, "Get over here, Dylan, and giver your 'ex' a kiss." I do an awkward one arm hug with him holding my cone away from us and Ray gets in a quick kiss on my lips. Then Bean gives me a big hug whispering in my ear, "Do you wanna blow me tonight?" I roll my eyes, then greet Jamison as Ray's saying, "Dylan, meet my new boyfriend, Gary Eisenhower." Gary face turns dark red as we bump fist. He's stocky and about Ray's height with unruly straw-color hair and a clean-shaven nondescript face. Nebraska farm boy type. I go, "Nice to meet you, Gary," and he says, "Same here," as he stares at me, glancing at Ray, than back staring at me. I don't know what he's thinking. Tall, skinny, Bean, says, "Oh, and can I get a haircut tomorrow, Dylan?" I go, "Well yes you can, Theodore Tesdavery the third." He grins because nobody, not even his teacher, call him that. It's his name though. He asks, "How'd you remember that?" and then he adds, "That other thing, Dylan, we'll save it for tomorrow, okay?" Sonny asks, "What other thing?" and Bean says, "Never you mind."

We're at a table for eight with everyone sitting leaving only one empty chair. Charles and I are standing, not wanting to leave the other standing alone. Ray says, "Sit the fuck down, Dylan," still thinking he's the boss. Old habits are hard to break. His bossiness is one of the things that appealed to me last summer. I put my arm around Charles' shoulders, saying, "Come on, dude, we'll share this seat." He looks down nodding his head getting very tight against my side. My new little shadow. There's empty ice cream containers and hot dog wrappers, plus soda cups all over the table. Preppy Jameson Doyle adjust his eyeglasses, asking, "Me too, Dylan?" meaning get a haircut tomorrow, and I go, "Sure, Jameson." Ray says, "Those guys will need to come after me because I'll be over at nine for my haircut, Dylan. Me and my boyfriend, Gary, have someplace to go afterward." Still bossy, but at least he didn't include straw-hair in the haircut schedule. Then Gary nudges Ray, "Um, ah Ray," and nods his head at me. Ray goes, "Oh yeah. No problem, Gary. Yeah, Dylan, Gary needs a haircut too so maybe we should make it eight-thirty in the morning. I want you to give him a tight crew cut. You know the way I like 'em cut." Shades of Willie Worthington right there. Gary's frowning running his fingers through the straw. Guess the tight crew cut is new news to him. Ha! Free haircuts for every-fucking-body, I guess. I go, "I probably won't be up that early, Ray, so text me first." Dawg says, "I'd like everyone to meet my brother, Charles," and there are few smart ass remarks that follow, like, "Ooh you're baby sitting, Dawg," from Bean and "Who's baby sitting who?" from Jameson as Charles coughs, "Douches bags." After his cough, Charles and I glance at each other, he looks down with a little grin on his lips and somehow gets tighter against me.

Ray says, "Let's get a touch football game going for Sunday. Who can play?" and they talk about a touch football game with Ray still apparently in charge of organizing things like that. He instructs Bean and Dawg to call some guys about the game, then tells Sonny to call his brother. To me, he says, "Dylan, see if you can get Dickers to play and your brother too." I give him a blank look, not at all sure I'm even gonna play myself, never mind Robby or Chubby. I'll see what Robby has in mind, plus we'll be going back to college sometime Sunday, and Chubby's not even home. None of this I bother to tell Ray. Why should I? What I ever saw in him baffles the hell out of me. I was blinded by the dominant side of Ray, and his confidence was off the charts too. Of course there are those who felt Ray was obnoxious, but it worked for me for a short time somehow. I gotta be honest too, that sexy BO scent of his was like a aphrodisiac to me. Everyone of the posse boys mentioned Ray's peculiar BO, and it shouldn't even be called BO because it was different, so much so that none of the boys were offended by it. It was Ray

being Ray, I guess. When I think how I used to kiss his ass for that month or so though, it's like unbelievable. I'll blame it on Ryan moving and me trying to replace the hot sub/dom sex he and I used to have. Funny how that fizzled out this year. It's gotta be more of that unconscious mind shit that is so influential in what I like to do. Guys are talking over each other about who should be quarterback as Charles nudges me. I look at him and he's holding a spoonful of his sundae up, "You want some, Dylan? It's really good." I say, "Sure and he feeds me the heaping spoonful. I suck most of it off and it is damn good. When I swallow, I say, grinning at him, "My cooties are on your spoon now, Charles." He shrugs, "I don't care," and he sucks off the sundae I left on the spoon. They licks the spoon smirking at me.

It's not long before everyone moves outside so those of us who want a cigarette can have one, plus the busboy cleaning the table said he was told by his boss that if we're done our food we need to move away from the table so others can use it. Ray's like, "Of all the fucking nerve. We're regulars here." The kid shrugs, muttering, "I could give a shit if you sleep here. Just telling you what the man said." I go, "Come on, guys, I want a smoke." That's why we're outside in the cold now. Sonny squirms between me and my new shadow, Charles, saying to Charles, "Excuse me, little man, I gotta talk to my boyfriend." Charles says, "He's not your boyfriend," and Ray asks, "Hey, Dawg's brother, can you play football?" Charles is pissed-off because Sonny pushed him away, so he coughs, "Eff you," to Ray. Ray looks up frowning at that, then takes two steps over to grab a fistful of Charles' shirt, "What'd you say?" I push at Ray's arm as Charles mumbles, "You heard me," and

Dawg quietly says, "Don't touch him, Ray. Get your hands off my brother's shirt." The rest of us exchange smirks. Ray points at Dawg, still with a hold of Charles' sweatshirt, "Dawg, don't butt in. He dissed me." Still speaking quietly, Dawg says, "I don't care if he did or not. Get your fucking hand off my brother or I'll knock you on your ass." Ray lets go and to save face he says, "That will be the day that you can knock me on my ass, Dawg!" Dawg shrugs, "We're not fourteen anymore, Ray. Anytime you want to try me, that's fine with me." Ray holding his open palms out, saying, "When did any of us fight with each other? Come on, Dawg, lighten up." Dawg goes, "Sure, no problem, just keep your hands off Charles, that's all."

Ray got put in his place which is good, but it put a damper on things so Sonny whispers to me, "Let's go, Dylan," which I'm all for, so we start doing the posse boys goodbye because it's less awkward doing that then not. We'll probably being doing it when we're sixty. I get another kiss from Ray, who whispers, "Call me anytime and we can relive old times. Don't tell Gary though."I say, "Don't hold your breath, Ray." Then Charles is looking at me and I get the feeling he wants to do the posse boy goodbye to, so I grin, saying, "See ya around, Charles," and we do the one arm hug with him a little too aggressive with the hugging part. Done his hug and blushing, he says, "See ya. Oh, um, Dylan, can I come over when I need another haircut?" I say, "Abso-fuckin'-lutely, Charles, you'd hurt my feelings if you didn't." He nods his head muttering, "Thanks." Sonny's pulling on my arm so I walk with him to his motorbike where he says, "Ray backed down from Dawg, did ya see that? I loved it." I go, "Uh huh, fighting is stupid." Sonny says, "Sometime ya gotta fight, dude." I mutter, "Tell me about it," then ask, "How can you be sure nobody's gonna come home early at your house?" He says, "It's only ten-thirty. We'll be at my place in ten minutes and Devon's with his girlfriend at a party so he won't get home before one o'clock this morning, at the earliest. Especially since my parents are at Foxwoods with another couple spending the night there. They won't be home tonight at all. Satisfied?" Now that's it's just him and me again he's getting that little edge talking confidently. As he's talking he's got my left ear between his thumb and forefinger smirking and grinning his irresistible grin as he bends my ear back and forth. He continues his little lecture, "So you're going to be my submissive boy for a couple of hours, aren't you, boy?"

It's amazing even to me after all these years that my dick starts getting hard listening to Sonny act dominant. I have nothing to do with it, my dick's got a mind of it's own. It just happens and I like the feeling. I've been missing it. I wet my lips and nod my head, mumbling, "Okay, Sonny." He pats my cheek, then says, "Yeah, I know it's okay, and when it's you and me out with the guys you are my boyfriend." He's serious now and my cock is hard as I nod my head even as I know I'll reject that concept the next time it comes up. For now I want to play this sex game and Sonny does it really well. He hands me the keys, saying, "Unlock the chain and hand me my helmet." Oh fuck! That's perfect. I almost grin, but that would ruin it so I don't, although he does grin nodding his head now that he sees I'm going to play along with him. So strange, and I think it is myself, yet it feels so good to have a boner induced by just a few words and actions by Sonny. I can't describe it of course, but I sure feel the tug of submissiveness. The feeling

lures me into it's grasp and gets stronger and stronger as we continue playing. I get the chain off and hand him his helmet. As he's putting it on he says, "Put your's on too and then put the chain where it belongs. Hand me the keys first." I do and he swats my ass, "Now put the chain away." I grin as I'm doing that, but my back is turned so he doesn't see it. I'm sucking on my lips groping myself as Sonny cooly lifts his left leg over the motorbike and gets on, his arms out gripping the handlebars. He looks back, "Get on behind me, tight up against me so I can feel your boner as we ride." I get on like he said and he goes, "Tighter around my waist. Okay, good," and we're off with the squeal of the back tire. This is going to be fun...

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

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I continue to provide this little advertisement in hope that some of you readers will purchase the books that I have had published. They are available on Amazon. Actually one book and one short story. The short story is titled "Concealed Agony - Gay Romance" (and I didn't pick that title.) Read the short story first. And the book is named "Oliver's Wildwood Vacation" They are both about 'Oliver'. You can easily find them by searching for 'Donny Mumford' at the Amazon web site.

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Donny Mumford

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