Dylan's Sophomore Year

DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR

Chapter 32

by Donny Mumford

A text from, Ryan, eh? I'm on my balcony at the apartment smoking a cigarette, drinking my second beer of the day, and minding my own business. Then this text appears out of thin air through the magic of the Internet. I have no idea how that works, only that it did. I mean I know Ryan typed it and sent it, but what magical thing took place after that to make what he typed appear on my iPhone? And, what words might he have texted to me? Maybe he wants to beg my forgiveness for him doing 'it' with that fuckwad Marty while ignoring me sexually for two months. Yeah, maybe he's begging me to take him back and give him another chance. That'd be sweet, but I don't believe in miracles or pipe dreams, so it's probably not that. And whatever the words in his text, why should I feel the need to respond immediately to them? That might seem to Ryan like I've been waiting with bated breath for a crumb from him, who I've got major hot's for. Yeah, but Ryan doesn't know I have major 'hot's' for him. He's totally unaware I've got all this sexual heat for him and his body. Basically I feel I'm lusting after him like last spring and the early part of the summer when he made me salute him every time I saw him. I don't know how these things happen, I really don't, but like it was then is the way it is now, very intense sexual heat that makes it hard to breathe when I'm near him sometimes. The difference is, now it's a secret sexual heat and he's unaware of it. That's very strange, isn't it?

Everyone who knew about Ryan and me back then believes it's over between us now. I mean as far as sexual heat for each other goes, although we're still loving friends. Hope I'm not embellishing the friendship description, that's what he told me. He only loves me as a friend now. I'd be a fool to turn down love of any kind of course. That's the situation between Ryan and me and it's what Ryan and Robby believe, and it's what I say as well, but it not true. Not in my case anyway. I'm very cognizant of my feelings for Ryan. Mysteriously I've come to feel this way about him again. I'm aware it's an obsession plain and simple. So I have an obsession about him... big deal. An obsession to be loved sexually by him, and while it's a mystery why I've come to think of Ryan as the sexiest person on earth, it is what it is.

And ha, I know I'm the only person on earth who would think Ryan the sexiest person alive, but too bad for everyone else. Maybe I'll text Ryan and tell him about my Theo/Bean boy, and Sonny too. You know, to make him jealous. Fat chance he'd be jealous though. Not of a couple of eighteen year old boys, especially knowing how un-special Theo probably would seem to Ryan, and most everyone else for that matter. Theo's become special to me though, and Sonny's actually cuter than Ryan when you get right down to it. At least most casual observers would probably say so, although no one's cuter than him in my eyes. Objectively I'm aware there are many guys cuter than Ryan, better looking overall than him, but I'm not objective when it comes to him. Funny that I didn't think he was cute at all when Robby was bopping Ryan before I knew him. When I got to know him however, I became obsessed with him back then like I'm obsessed with him again. It's a wildly unlikely and inexplicable turn of events, but true nonetheless. The old adage, 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder' is so very accurate and extends to one's opinion about sexiness and other things as well. Often we perceive things whichever way we choose. For example, I didn't notice Ryan's scent at first. The

first time he fucked me his personal scent wasn't even noticeable, completely undetectable. Later though, the way he smells, his personal scent, is enough to drive me mad, like a dog in heat. That's the way I want to perceive it now. So what is it he texting me about? It's not that we don't text each other. We do it all the time, but as friends so why do I feel this text might be different. Projection on my part probably. Fantasy land stuff.

There's one sure way to find out if this is that special text. I slide my finger to unlock my iPhone and read his text: 'Did ya have a nice Thanksgiving, Dylan? I ate Thanksgiving dinner in the dining hall with two guys from the west coast. You're probably still back in Framingham having a good time with family and old friends. Hope so anyway. I'm looking forward to seeing you Monday in class! Ryan.'. That's it? That's fucking it? No, 'love Ryan', at the end, or 'I miss you madly, Dylan!' Nothing like that, huh? Gee, I'm a little disappointed. I built up expectations for a more dramatic text. Something special or at least surprising, but then, ha ha, I'm such a loser. Smiling to myself, I call Ryan on my cell phone, and say, "Whassup?" He says, "Hey, Dylan, thanks for remembering me." I'm like, "How can I forget you, Ryan, I see you almost everyday." I'm thinking of adding, 'I wish I saw you every night in bed too,' but of course I don't. He goes, "I'm going batty here, there's hardly anyone on campus. Well, at least until they started drifting in today. The dining hall finally had some people in it at lunch." I'm like, "Oh yeah, where's your roommate?" wanting to add, 'the asshole fuckwad,' but I don't. He goes, "Ah, Marty, yeah, where is he? Unfortunately I know where he is. He's not here. He's home, which is way the fuck up in New Hampshire someplace. That's where he lives, probably screwing some guy from his neighborhood right now."

Hmmm, was that anger in his voice? Could it be my Ryan is pissed-off at fuckwad Marty? Perhaps they had a name-calling fight, and you can't take back words... heh heh. Hopefully there was a hateful exchange of insults that will be hard to forget. I ask, "Huh. When's he coming back?" Ryan says, "Either tomorrow night or early Monday morning. It's like a two and a half hour drive." I mumble, "That far huh? Hope he doesn't get into a life-threatening serious car accident. You know, driving too fast Monday morning to get back to you." Ryan ignores that, although he pauses a few seconds, maybe thinking to say something rude to me because of my inexcusably inappropriate comment, but instead, he goes, "Ha ha, don't jinx him, Dylan." Oh, Ryan chose the high road, eh. My minds not functioning properly for some reason. Probably because I'm speaking with the very person I'm lusting after. He adds, "Yeah, Marty asked me to go with him for the break and have Thanksgiving dinner with his family. I might have accepted, but he made the mistake of telling me they'll be like twenty-some people for Thanksgiving dinner and that sounded way too awkward a situation for shy little ole' me. Plus, he's not 'out' to anyone in his hometown, except Rex of course. Ya know, so I didn't see what good it would be to put myself though five days of awkwardness with mostly strangers when the possibility of having a little sexy fun would be very limited." I can't think of a single thing I want to say to that bunch of bullshit, except, "Huh."

I'm getting a boner just talking to Ryan, hearing his voice and picturing in my head his face and hot tight little body with that big penis of his. It's making me feel weird so I better end this call, but I don't. "Um, Ryan, ah, why don't we get together and hang out or something. Robby's still back in Framingham and won't be coming here until tomorrow in the late afternoon some time." He goes, "You're here? On campus, or in your apartment?" I go, "Yeah, I'm here. Me and Chubby drove back a little while ago. I'm at the apartment. Chubby's fucked-up with a wicked hangover. The poor boy's sleeping it off in bed." Ryan says, "Wow, you're here, dude, that's so excellent! Can I impose on you for a haircut? It's been like six weeks since my last one, what with, heh heh, Marty demanding so much of my time." Fuck Marty, that sick pervert, but I say, "Well, yeah, sure, Ryan. I'd like that and it'll give us something to do." Ryan says, "Dylan, get real, we could think of plenty of things to do other than me getting a haircut, but I really need one so I'd appreciate if we can do that first." Hmmm, I think I'm kind of excited by this unexpected development. I'd love to give him a haircut, and maybe I can seduce him while I'm at it. Oh yeah, ya think you could? You loser... don't get your hopes up, mister needy! I know one thing for sure though, and it's I gotta give myself a good talking to before I see Ryan. I don't want to make a complete jackass of myself, groveling for a kiss or a smile from him.

I've got myself under control though. Smelling the back of my wrist, I'm blasé when I say, "Yeah, whatever dude," and he's like, "Ah, can I impose on you further and ask you to bring the barber stuff to my dorm room so I can smoke a joint or two while you're working your magic with my ratty hair, and we won't disturb your brother." I go, "Ratty hair? Are you out of your fucking mind, Ryan? You've got awesome hair! I wish I had your head of hair." He laughs, "That's not what Rob told me. He said you claimed at Thanksgiving dinner the one thing you're most grateful for is your awesome hair." My face turns dark red, as he adds, "Ha ha, you nut, that was hysterical. I laughed my ass off because it's just so you, ya know, with the offbeat humor and all. Wish I was there. I'd probably have spit a mouthful of turkey stuffing all over the table. You're too funny, dude!" Huh, I didn't know Ryan thought I was funny. And it's not what I said at the table anyway. I didn't say it was the one thing I'm most thankful for, I said it was one of the things. Anyway I can not believe Robby told Ryan that shit. Trying to sound calm, I ask, "When did he, you know text you that bull crap? Did he just text it to you out of the blue?" He goes, "Yesterday I guess it was. No, it wasn't out of the blue, we've been texting back and forth during the break. I'm comparing my pathetic Thanksgiving with his." Hmmm? "What else did he say?" Ryan's chuckling, then saying, "I wish I could have seen the expressions on Rob's parents faces when you came out with that shit about your hair." I go, "Forget that. What else did Rob text you?" He goes, "Oh, I don't know, Dylan. Nothing really, just one line wisecracks and shit. Do you need a ride over here?" I go, "He didn't say anything else about me?" Ryan goes, "Aaah, that's cute, you're jealous that Rob was texting me, huh?" I go, "No! Don't be an ass!" Actually I'm jealous Ryan was texting Rob and not me, but I don't say that. And how can people be so heartless to me at times? That's a mystery I'll never understand. Ryan says, "Just teasing you, Dylan. Do you need a ride?" I mumble, "Yeah, I do, thanks." I've got the Jeep, but I wanna ride in that hot Mini of Ryan's. He asks, "Is now okay? Should I come over now?" and I go, "Yeah, I'll be at the front entrance. It's building 'G'. See ya in a few minutes." He goes, "Ha ha, I know the fucking building, silly! I'm there three or four days a week. See you in a couple of minutes." This might work out for me.

We end the call, but I'm both puzzled and pissed-off that those two were texting. In the first place it doesn't seem like Robby at all. You know, to be texting and joking around. Not something he's been doing lately anyway. That's too normal a thing to do for a college student to do. Robby hasn't been acting like a college student at all, more like the parent of a college student. So that puzzles me right there, and I'm pissed-off because Robby didn't mention Ryan was texting him. I'm one of this threesome, hello! Well, Ryan seems happy that I'm here anyway. It might just be because he needs a

haircut of course, or because he's happy to see anyone after four days on a nearly abandoned campus. In the bathroom I try to spruce up a little for Ryan, but fuck, it's useless. That goddamn Sonny! If he hadn't given me this short haircut I could have gotten a butchered haircut from Ryan again. And I wouldn't even care because he'd be doing it. He'd be combing my hair and cutting it, and that can be a bit intimate if both participants are of the same sexual persuasion, especially with a history together. Damn! I grab the toiletry kit with the barber equipment and then leave a note telling Chubby I'm at Ryan's. Then down the front stairs to the lobby where I look out the window watching for him. I'm smelling my wrist again feeling nervous and weird, like in the pit of my stomach or maybe it's my balls. Someplace in that area. In my groin too and, oh fuck, I need to take a deep breath. I'm too fidgety so I step outside and light a cigarette, my fingers all jittery. Fuck, I'm nervous about seeing Ryan and being alone with him. I can't remember the last time it was just him and me doing something together. There's always one or more guys with us. Damn this is stupid of me. I'm rubbing my face with the palm of my hand telling myself, 'Do not act like a fool around Ryan! Don't you dare make an asshole of yourself in front of him!' and then I'm back to smelling my wrist again. The fucking habits I have, Jesus!

I've smoked the entire cigarette and still no Ryan. Where the hell is he? Maybe I'll take up chewing my fingernails to help past the time. Checking my watch I see it's been over ten minutes and it's only a two minute drive. Now I'm worried something happened to him so I take out my cell phone, positive some fucked-up thing will prevent us from getting together. My luck's been for shit lately! And then there's his Mini convertible driving up the my building. He's put the top up against November's cold temperature. He's driving too slowly of course, which makes me grin. Ryan! I'm shivering now, but that's probably because I'm wearing only a sweatshirt. He drives the Mini right up to the front steps, but I just stand here staring at his car, smelling the back of my wrist. I see him in the car leaning over supporting himself with a hand on the passenger seat while looking out the passenger side window at me standing here on the top step. Oh fuck, I'm going to embarrass myself, I fuckin' know it. I shouldn't be allowed to be alone with Ryan. Someone else needs to be with us or I might melt into a begging frenzy asking him to give me another chance, or come right out with 'fuck me, fuck me, Ryan'. Anything he wanted, any stipulation at all. Ryan gets out of the car frowning while walking around to the passenger side, then grins cutely looking up at me, asking, "Why are you just standing there, Dylan?" After doing two fake coughs, I walk slowly down the steps smelling the back of my wrist again, mumbling, "I thought you changed your mind. What took you so long?" He looks concerned, "Are you alright? You look pale. Do you feel okay?" I'm frowning at him now, but I can't think of anything to say. He goes, "Seriously, Dylan, I can get a haircut another time, it's okay really. I just thought that..."and I shout, "I'm fucking fine! What the fuck you talking about?" I didn't expect to shout and I shouted in a really mean way too. Goddammit! I try grinning, "Ha ha, I didn't mean for that to sound like it did, sorry. Hi Ryan, heh heh." He nods his head still looking concerned, muttering, "Yeah, hi."

I get in the car trying not to look at him for fear of what I'll do being this close to him alone in this car's that's too small. It's like I'm almost sitting on his lap! If I don't watch myself I could lose control completely and throw myself into his arms or start hugging him like a nine year old hugs his dad back from the war. Best to keep looking straight ahead. Ryan walks around the car and gets in closing the door. Naturally I smell his personal Ryan Wilcock sexy scent right away. What am I, a fucking bloodhound smelling Ryan through his clothes and sweatshirt. Maybe I could smell his sock and then track him down wherever he goes like a bloodhound tracking a runaway convict. Jesus! Biting my bottom lip I feel my face getting flush. I've built-up this desperate sexual attraction for Ryan and it's been going on for well over six weeks now. I don't know how the hell it started or why it started, but it's a very real thing in my brain no matter if it's illogical, or makes any sense, or none at all. I'm so uncomfortable for no reason at all, I groan loudly, "Ooooh," and then take a deep breath. I can feel him staring at me, but I don't look over. I'm stiffly sitting up straight, gawking through the windshield at nothing. Then to break the silence, I go, "Wow, Ryan, love this car!" saying that too loudly as well, and then do another fake cough, then another one, adding, "Nice Mini, man. Un huh." We're not moving and the silence is beginning to roar in my ears, so I slowly turn my head towards him and sure enough he's just staring at me with this quizzical expression on his face. Then, with a hesitant grin, he asks, "Are you drunk, Dylan? On some banned substance or something like that, maybe?" I start rubbing the palms of my hands all over my face now, "No, no I'm not drunk or high, I'm just goofy." He reaches over and ruffles my hair, saying "Well, I missed you, goofy. I wanted to text you, but since Rob was already texting me I thought you might think I'm an asshole or something. You know, if I text you with the same shit I'm texting him. Did he show you my ridiculous texts?" My eyebrows go up, "Oh, you were thinking about texting me?"

Ryan chuckles, shaking his head, "You're goofy alright, but awesome too." He checks for cars both ways twice, then slowly drives away, saying, "Yeah, of course I thought of texting you. I thought of you a lot, why wouldn't I? You're only the best friend I've ever had." Hearing that I almost have tears dripping from my eyes except I do my tenth fake cough in the last two minutes and rub my arm across my eyes. He asks, "What's with the fake coughing?" I go, "Fake? Um, whaddaya mean?" He laughs, "Oh shit, you're a funny guy!" then, "Um, would you have thought I was an asshole if I texted both you guys with the same 'nothing' boring stuff?" I'm shaking my head, and then saying way, way too sincerely, "No, Ryan, I would never think you're an asshole, ever! Not about anything, ever." He glances at me, grinning, "Breaking my balls, I see. Did I just ask a dumb-ass question?" I know I was overly sincere with my comment... overly everything with that last response. I clear my throat and go, "No, I'm not breaking your balls," as I picture his genitals that I've seen a hundred times, but not for the last two months. He says, "Guess you're feeling better, huh? Did you feel dizzy or something back there? You were white as a ghost, as the saying goes." I'm clasping my hands together, fingers intertwined to keep myself from rubbing them all over his hot little body, as I mumble, "Nah, I was just so excited seeing you, and I thought you'd changed your mind for a second there and then you were here. I was just about to call you." He looks over smirking cutely, "Still busting my chops, huh?" I emphatically say, "I was not breaking you're balls, Ryan, I was seriously happy to see you. Excited too," the last two words sort of fade out in the end. Ryan says, "Gee, thanks, Dylan. That makes me feel good," and he reaches over to pat my leg. My leg jerks spastically for a second and he laughs, saying, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

We drive onto the campus as I'm saying, "It's curious Rob would text you about me saying I'm grateful for having awesome hair." Ryan's like, "Why's it curious? It was funny." I go, "Rob didn't think so, and he was criticizing me for saying it," then I tell him about everyone needing to standup around the table telling what they're thankful for. Ryan goes, "Oooh, fuck, that

sounds unbelievably awkward, dude! No, Rob didn't say anything about that. Why'd he criticize you?" I go, "Ah, he's always criticizing me about something." Ryan says, "Well, there's constructive criticism and destructive criticism. Which one was Rob using?" I go, "I don't know. What's the difference?" Ryan's parking the Mini on campus, then turns to me, saying, "Marty gave me an example of the two types of criticisms. He told me to assume our campus police were assigned the mission of kicking old ladies on campus to death. That's their mission, hypothetically. When one of the campus police suggest they get issued jackboots instead of the pathetic Thom Mcan boots they wear now. That's a constructive criticism.Ya know, constructive criticism of their current footwear and thereby improving their chances of having success in their mission of kicking old ladies to death. Jackboots would be much more effective in doing that then the Thom Mcan soft desert boots. A destructive criticism would be if one of the campus cops, some asshole, keeps saying maybe they shouldn't be kicking old ladies to death in the first place. See, that's not constructive to their mission, it's destructive grousing and not helping their mission at all." We're sitting in the car with me gawking at Ryan. He grins at me, "That what Marty said, not me." I ask, "Is Marty seriously retarded by any chance?" Ryan laughs, and says, "Oh, don't let the PC police hear you say that 'R' word."

We're out of the car with me feeling more in control of myself now. It's just that I'd been thinking about Ryan when I was on the balcony and he texted me just at that same instant. So I let myself get worked up and I got confused between fantasizing about him and the reality of actually being with him. Now, with the real world around me, I'm calmer, back into reality and I'm fine. Oh god, that even sounds like a crazy explanation to me. The fact is, I usually see Ryan daily and don't lose my mind like I did back on the steps at the apartment and then when I first got in his car. I was still acting like a complete dork then. Man, that was some weird-ass behavior there for a minute or two. Seemed longer then that to me though. I'm staring at him as we go up the steps to his room where Ryan unlocks the door, and inside there's a faint smell of weed. "Are you smoking a lot of grass, R yan?" He shrugs, "Probably too much, but Marty's putting both of us on a limit per day. We got it under control. Did you know that some guys get turned-on by smoking pot. Turned on, as in being aroused for sex I mean, and for some guys it's the reverse response. Marty and me are cool with it during sex."

I don't want to hear about him and that asswipe fuckwad Marty having sex. I mutter, "It's none of my business so I'd rather not hear about that, if you don't mind" Ryan says, "No, I don't mind. Remember you, me, and Tom in this room that time smoking crack laced weed? Holy shit, that was awesome!" I'm like, "Yeah, it was alright. That was the last time you and I had sex, wasn't it?" He looks at me funny, then asks, "Where's a good place for me to sit for my haircut?" I glance around the room, and say, "Lets move this throw rug and pull that straight back chair with all the shit on it over here under the light. Is there an electrical socket nearby?" Ryan rolls up the throw rug, nodding his head towards his desk, and I see an outlet next to it.

He's clearing books and whatnot off the chair as I stare at him, again feeling weak inside. I love how he looks starting with his out-of-style little round eyeglasses. His brown hair is long now. Come to think of it, he only got that one haircut when he had the ponytail. That was the first or second week of the semester. That means it's closer to eight or nine weeks since his last haircut, not six weeks. He's probably having so much fun being the submissive bottom to that loser, fuckwad Marty, that nine weeks seemed like only six 'cause time flies when you're having fun. Ryan looks up, saying, "I wanted to bring Marty to your place for a haircut when I got mine cut, but I'm taking this opportunity right now 'cause I'm sick of this hair. Is it okay if he comes over for a haircut sometime? I told him you're a genius at cutting hair." I'm thinking, 'fuck that,' as Ryan glances in a mirror that's hung on the back of the closet door, and goes, "Look at my hair! Jesus!" I walk to him and run my fingers through his hair, then close my hand on a fistful off it, and stare at him. He looks at me as he does half a grin, then asks, "What?" and I mumble, "Nothing. It's just that it'd be better if I shampooed your hair first?" Ryan grins for real, "Ahhh, that sounds like sexy fun, Dylan. You shampooing my hair, I mean. I'd love that, but not in the communal lavatory down the hall." I'm sucking on my lips fighting the urge to hug him against me, maybe cracking a rib or too hugging him so tightly. He reaches up taking hold of my wrist, mumbling, "My hair, you're pulling my hair, Dylan." I let go immediately, then ruffle through his hair, and step back. "Just checking for, um, things..." Ryan chuckles, "You are acting so weird today, but I'm choosing to believe you're not high on something."

Ryan's hair almost completely covers his ears, it hangs in his eyes when he bends over, and it's over the collar at the back of his neck. He sees I'm looking at him, and mutters, "It's a pain in the ass," meaning his hair I assume. Ryan has that pretty pale skin tone that always makes him appear to be uber clean even if he's not. As I've said, I can understand some observers not thinking Ryan has an especially cute face, and he is small, about Sonny's size actually. They're both very slim and about five feet six or seven, but I think they're both kinda special. Ryan's got the chair cleaned off and he carries it over near his desk, saying, "Do you think we should go back to your place to shampoo my hair? Does it need it? God, I didn't think of that." I gulp, shrugging, and he says, "I had a shower yesterday, so... I don't know, what do you think, Dylan, you're the expert." I think I should take all his clothes off and give him a long detailed bath and shampoo, that's what I think. I go, "Oh, would you like that? A shampoo." He grins, "Sure, who wouldn't, but if it's too much trouble... Well, you decide, okay?" Could I trust myself shampooing his hair? That would be a big fat, NO! I couldn't trust myself with all that touching, so I shrug again, "Nah, your hair's fine the way it is. We'll do the shampoo next time." He pulls his shirt off, mumbling, "You da man, whatever you say." Oh my God, he's got a great build. I haven't seen his bare torso for awhile now because we aren't taking our shirts off to lift like we did six weeks ago. How's it possible for him to be that slim and still have a great physique? Ryan lifted weights all summer, and then we've been lifting here the last ten weeks. All that lifting's paid off for Ryan. Really hot muscle definition in his arms, chest, and stomach. No chest hairs though, but I do see the outline of a small beard coming in. I need to look away to resist feeling his face and the sparse beard growth. Swallowing hard again, I mumble, "I didn't know you were shaving now, um, Ryan." He makes a face, "Yeah, I need to shave, sometimes as often as once a week... ha ha. It ain't much." I mutter, "I think it looks cool on you." He goes, "Really, and he takes my hand to rub my fingers over his soft feeling whiskers that are barely visible. I thought they'd be stiffer. He says, "I shaved last, lets see, oh yeah, it was Thursday in honor of Thanksgiving. Grew in a lot the last two days, hasn't it?" He's always been self deprecating. I nod my head wanting to put the palm of my hand on his cute face. He drops my hand, asking, "How 'bout you, Dylan, any whiskers?" I shake my head and plug in the clippers, not trusting my voice.

Ryan sits down, asking, "How do you suggest I get my hair cut?" Normally that question gets on my nerves and drives me crazy. Eighteen to twenty year old guys don't know how they want their hair cut? Get real! Except I don't mind Ryan asking. I comb through his hair, "Um, you'd be hot with any haircut, Ryan, but you know I kinda like short hair styles, personally." He goes, "So I've noticed. Guess you'll never trust me with your haircut again, will ya?" I say, "Yeah, I would if you'd like to do it." He goes, "How 'bout your next haircut? I'd love to do it!" My throat's tight, "I go, "Uh huh, I'd like that okay." He says, "I'll try cutting it real short the way you like it, and yeah, I'd really like another shot at it." The thought of him trying to give me a really sort haircut scares me and makes my dick tighten up at the same time. His head's turns, looking back at me, "I was getting good at haircutting there at the end, before I moved, remember? Giving you a haircut will remind me of the old days." His scent with his shirt off is wafting up making me dizzy, for real. I step back and stumble over the rolled-up throw rug ending up on my ass. Ryan laughs as he jumps up to help me up. He gives me his hand, pulling me up, saying, "It's fucking dangerous in here, Dylan. Me and Marty are slobs. Sorry 'bout that." In my head I hear, 'Me and Marty, me and Marty, me and Marty!' Fuck! I'm up, standing close to Ryan, his hand still holding mine. Stupidly, I ask, "What do you see in him anyway?" He lets go of my hand, "Marty? What do I see in Marty? Jeez, I don't know, we hit it off is all. He's nice to me and he fuck's good. Dominant fucking with some hard spankings too, he uses his hand for most of my spankings, you know, the way you and I like it." Swallowing noisily I nod my head, mumbling, "Uh huh," thinking that I'd like to hit fuckwad Marty over the head with a tire iron, maybe more than once.

Ryan asks, "You sure you're alright? You're scaring me a little. You can tell me if something's bothering you." I shake my head clearing my throat, "No, what could be wrong?" He shrugs, and sits back down, "Anyway, how 'bout my haircut, what do you think?" Standing behind him I run my fingers through his hair slowly, then smell my hand. Nice scent of clean hair. Ryan's hair. I say, "How about a neat preppy haircut?" He says, "I don't know what that is, but I have one hundred percent confidence in you, Dylan. Lets do it." I'd like to do it with him alright. 'It' being Ryan fucking me for like two hours straight. He asks, "Should I put a CD on?" I want to concentrate on him, not music, so I say, "No, that's alright," and turn on the clippers. I cut his hair slowly and deliberately, wanting to do the perfect haircut for him. As the cut hairs drift off the clipper blades and then off the back of my hand on their way to his shoulder, lap, or floor my dick gets harder and harder. I force myself, using all my enormous amounts of willpower, not to hug his head or squeeze his shoulder or rub my hand slowly and tightly over his bare chest and nipples. I'm tapering the hairs at the back of his head from the neck up and then cutting the hairs on the sides off his ears, with neither of us is saying anything. Wanting to feel more of his hair I switch from clippers to scissors and comb, combing up batch after batch of his hair, putting each batch between my fingers and slicing the long hairs off with the scissors. The 'Scrunch, scrunch," sounds I hear when Sonny cuts my hair I hear now while cutting through Ryan's hair.

He has a nicely shaped head, and very good hair with a fairly straight hairline, both those things helping to make any haircut on him look good. When I'm done he has a part down the left side of his head, a perfectly straight part with two inch hairs on top, neat half-inch hairs on the sides around his ears that taper to longer hairs further up on the side to the part, and matching hairs on the side without a part. His bangs are combed over to the side and they're also two inches long. It's a generic, clean-cut, preppy look. Ryan checks himself out in the mirror on the back of the closet door, and says, "Cool haircut, but way too goody two-shoes looking for me, Dylan. Beautifully cut, but now I'm thinking I'd rather have a no-comb haircut where I get up in the morning and my hair's ready for the day. Do you mind? I'm sick of trying to comb it everyday. I should have told you right off, but I wasn't sure until just now. Sorry." Do I mind? Do I mind cutting his hair some more? Surely he jests! I go, "No, I don't mind at all," and realize shockingly that I've cut his hair the way Marty wears his. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why'd I do that. It was definitely a subconscious move on my part, but I mumble, "I thought you might like your hair like Marty's." He laughs, "No thanks, I'd rather emulate you than him. You're cool, he's more a, I don't know, a not cool type." Then he notices my lap is poking out a little, and he laughs again, "Oh my God, you sprung a boner! You always were the sexiest boy I've ever known." I mutter, "What? You think I'm sexy?" He says, "There you go again, breaking my balls, ha ha." He sits down, some of the cut hairs still on his shoulders, and says, "Now I'm thinking, 'buzz cut', a simple buzz cut?" I mumble, "I like that. You can give me one when my hair gets a little longer." He turns around, "Bend down, Dylan," I gulp and lean over and he runs his fingers through my hair. Then, "Okay, it'd be a shorter than a normal buzz cut, but I could do that today. Next time I'll do the regular half-inch buzz, okay? Whaddaya say, buddy?" Smelling the back of my hand I try to speak and come up with, "Uh huh." He goes, "Or we can wait a week and do the half inch buzz then. Either way."

This is insane. I've never felt this way before, like I'm an idiot. I can't fucking function. Mumbling, "I gotta sit down for a second," I plop down on the side of his bed. Ryan jumps up and comes over putting his hand on my forehead, "I knew something was wrong, Dylan. Do you have the flu? Is it a hangover? What's wrong?" I'm shaking my head, "No, nothing like that," as I brush hairs off his shoulders and watch them drift to his bedspread, then add, "Um, I'm just overly tired after the break. You know, drinking too much I guess and, um, not enough sleep," which is all total bullshit. He hugs around my head, saying, "You poor kid, burning the candle at both ends again, huh? Rob didn't text me about the fun stuff evidently." My head's leaning against his bare chest and all my concentration is on not putting my arms around his waist. All would be lost if I did that as I'd surely end up groveling for him to give me another chance at being his boyfriend, begging him to let me blow him or for him to fuck me or spank me or whatever-the-fuck he wanted to do with me. Tie me up, hogtie me, whatever. I say, "No, heh heh, I'm good now, Ryan," while gently pushing him away because the temptation to fondle him is too great when we're touching. I feel like I actually do have a fever now. "Did I feel hot to you, Ryan?" He grins, "You're always hot as far as I'm concerned, but I assume you mean fever-wise. Nope, you felt normal."

Sucking my lips again and then making a popping sound as they part, my face blushes. He chuckles, "You're awesome, Dylan. I missed you." I hop off the bed and busy myself looking in the toiletry kit for the half inch clipper guard, and I find the one that's a third of an inch. Handing it to Ryan, I ask, "Would this work for my buzz cut?" He frowns, "How can I tell?" I lean my head down, saying, "Push it through my hair and if you see any hair above the guard, then it'll work." He stands up and does that a few places on my head, then says, "Nah, it's okay for the top, but the sides are shorter than the guard." I'm thinking, 'Ah ha, so Sonny didn't make it exactly the same length all over my head like a clipper buzz cut. I knew it couldn't be

done with just comb and scissors. Wait till I see him!' Ryan's looking at me again so my eyes shift over to his, and he asks, "I was wondering, um, who gave you that haircut anyway. You've had it this short since the beginning of the semester. It's awfully short, isn't it?" I go, "Yeah it is. There's this kid I mess around with who ties me to a chair and cuts my hair. He cuts it anyway he feels like and I have no say in the matter." Ryan goes, "Ooh, gawd, that sounds sexy submissive on your part. You doing the sub/dom sex game with him, are you?"I mutter, "Occasionally, maybe once a month. He's not as good as you though. The way you where, you know, um, before." Ryan's looking through the toiletry kit, taking everything out of it, then coming up with a quarter inch guide. He tries that in my hair, and says, "This would work but a quarter inch buzz is too short, don'cha think?" I shrug, surprised he didn't say anything about my sub/dom sex comments regarding him. It was a pretty obvious fishing expedition on my part, so he probably doesn't want to embarrass me by telling me once and for all to forget that shit as far as doing it with him goes. It's nice of him not to embarrass me.

I'm thinking back to when Ryan and I did the uber hot sub/dom sex together. He sits down, saying, "We'll do your haircut in a week or so, okay, Dylan?" I go, "What? Do what in a week or so?" He says, "Me doing your buzz cut like the one you're gonna do for me. We'll be twin boyfriend with our haircuts again. Remember when Rob wanted the three of us to have identical haircuts last year?" He means last semester of freshman year. I nod my head, "Oh yeah, that was kinda cool, but maybe a little childish for college students." I'm thinking about the posse boys with the same haircuts and how that might be at the older end of the age limit for shit like that. Ryan goes, "Fuck childish! You and me will resurrect that tradition and be true twins again." Well, that certainly wasn't a submissive response from Ryan. It was definitive and confident, so maybe there's still hope that he's still got it in him to be a dominant sex partner. 'Hope' is the word representing that stubborn thing inside us humans that insists, despite all evidence to the contrary, that something we want is still a possibility. Turning on the clipper I run then down the middle of his head cutting the two inch hairs down to a half inch bristle. Ryan goes, "Oh shit, I'd forgotten how it feels to be sheared like a sheep." He reaches up and feels the bristles, "Fuck, that's short!" What the fuck's he talking about? It was his idea. He goes, "Ya know, it makes me feel submissive getting my hair almost shaved like this." I go, "You asked me to do it, Ryan," and he's like, "No, I like it. I was just thinking about that kid that cuts your hair, it's a submissively sexy thing to sit here and experience something like that." I'm running the clippers all over his head, thinking, 'I love doing this but it goes too quickly'. It's all over in less that five minutes and there's Ryan with another buzz cut. Now his nicely shaped head is really noticeable. This time I can't resist rubbing his head with both hands. "Feel good?" he asks. I go, "Yep, you look so hot with this haircut, Ryan." I walk around in front of him, push his glasses up his cute nose and rub my fingers in his buzz cut from his forehead back, mumbling, "So cool and yet so hot." He laughs and grabs me hugging me against him awkwardly. It's awkward because he's sitting and I'm

standing. Ryan squeezes me, asking, "Wouldn't you like to go back in time and live through Rob's threesome with us twin boyfriends again? You know, the way we did it freshman years?" I'm sucking my lips again, putting my cheek against his head and getting another boner before pulling away from him so that my boner doesn't bump his leg, or worse. "Oh sure I would, Ryan, you know, with you like you were, dominant to me. It was amazing actually."

Standing up, Ryan's brushing hairs off his shoulders and lap, then he's at the mirror rubbing his hand back through his buzz cut, mumbling, "Gotta get used to this haircut again. Gawd, it's short." Turning to me, he asks, "Be honest, do I look like a dork with this buzz cut?" I go, "Nooo! You look, um, good. You look perfect, actually, and I already told you, you're hot." He looks at me grinning, "Let me do the quarter inch buzz on you, please! I want to. We'll be twin boyfriends again." This is too much stimulation for me. I'm gonna crack and lose my shit entirely any second now. I shake my head 'no', not trusting my voice again. I want him so badly I have to turn away busying myself wrapping the cord around the clippers and putting the guards that Ryan pulled out of the toiletry kit back inside. Ryan's looking at himself in the mirror again muttering, "Fucking Marty's gonna be pissed, ha ha. He likes to play in my hair when I'm sucking him off." I scream, "Don't tell me about that shit, Ryan! It's none of my fucking business and I don't want to hear it!" I can feel my face get hot and red as Ryan looks at me shocked, his mouth open a little, his narrow eyebrows furrowed, frowning. In a quiet, concerned voice, he asks, "You don't want to hear what, Dylan? I'm sorry for upsetting you," and he comes over putting his hands on my shoulders, turning me around. I look at his awesome physique, his scent filling my head, my eyelids fluttering on their own. Lifting my eyes I see his cute concerned face and those eyeglasses and his crisp buzz cut. "What is it, Dylan? I wouldn't do anything to upset you on purpose." I've simply got to get out of here. I mutter, "I gotta go. I'll walk back," as I zip up the toiletry kit. "You gotta go? Go where? And I'll drive you. What's wrong?" So fucking sincere, and so hot and sexy and cute is Ryan.

He's still looking at me with a hand on each of my shoulders again, me holding the toiletry kit, ready to go somewhere, anywhere away from Ryan's temptations. He grins, shaking me gently, "Tell me, Dylan, what is it? Can I help?" and, dropping the toiletry kid, I fall against him hugging him with tears running down my face mumbling near his ear, "I love you and miss you and I'm so depressed you've left me behind for that fuckwad, Marty. That's what's wrong, you fucking idiot." I couldn't hug him any tighter, the side of my face next to his and the feel of his tight body, oh so wonderful to hold. He's rubbing his hands on my back, not saying anything. I don't fuckin' blame him for not saying anything, what can you say to a crazy person who se lost it. Then I mumble, "I'm sorry, I just made a totally ass of myself. I gotta go," as I try breaking away from him, but he holds on to me, saying, "You're not going anywhere. We're gonna smoke a joint and you're gonna calm the fuck down." My body goes limp in his arms, as he's saying, "I was speechless there for a minute, Dylan. I had no idea you felt that way about me

and I gotta tell you, I've never been more flattered in my life. You've made me happy in so many ways for so many days, the best days of my life in the past, but the thought those days might not be over yet never entered my mind." He turns me around and takes my arm, leading me over to his bed, "Come on over here and sit on the bed." He's leaning his head over looking up at my face, "Look at those tears. Remember when I'd spank you until you were blubbering like a big baby? Huh, those were the days my friend." I nod my head still in a fog. He goes, " Well, what did I do back then? Huh?" and he takes out his handkerchief, one that he's used, holds it to my nose with a finger on either side of my nose, and says, "Give me a big blow." I do that and can't help but grin at how stupid this is, while remembering sitting on his lap, my head above his, and him reaching up to get me to blow my nose. "Another," he says, and I pull my head away, "No, I feel like a jerk-off doing this, I'm okay now, Ryan. Thanks for the memories though." He rubs my head, telling me, "I'm lighting a joint. Would you crack that window for me?" I get up feeling like the world's biggest dork and open the window a foot. Cold air pours in as I smell the first whiff of weed.

Ryan puts a Fray's CD in the player and we sit on his bed passing the joint back and forth without saying anything, just listening to the music. After we share two joints I'm feeling free of enough inhibitions to lay against him and rub the side of my face against his. The subtle feel of his minor beard makes me smile, thinking, 'Jesus Christ, as if I wasn't desiring him enough already, now the beginnings of a beard. If he wanted, I could easily

wind-up as Ryan's lap dog. It would be okay with me. He sighs and then puts his arms around me rubbing up and down my back, quietly saying, "Remember when you were really submissive to me, not only with the sex but just about all the rest of the time too?" I go, "Un huh," and he kisses the side of my forehead, saying, "And do you remember I wouldn't allow you to have sex with anybody but me, except Rob of course?" I nod my head, and he goes, "Well, that's the way Marty is with me. I'm not allowed to have sex with anybody but him or he'll cut me off, and with him as my roommate that would be really painful for me. Imagine Rob cutting you off and you guys sleeping together at the apartment every night. That's my dilemma, Dylan. You know I'll always love you, but for now that's all I can do. Love you." I'm feeling like such a needy loser, but I like being held by Ryan. He's making me feel good, like I'm a little boy being taken care of. Okay, what he's saying is some tough love, some cold hard facts of life, but he cares about me enough to take care of me even If I can't have my own way. Us kids need to learn these hard things. Ryan feels so good and smells so good, I finally mutter, "That's okay." He goes, "No, it isn't okay, but I don't know how to fix it. I'm hung up on Marty's dominant sex like you used to be with me." Barely above a whisper, I say again, "That's okay," and add, "Can we just lay down on your bed together for a little while? The weed's fucking with my head." He lays over on his side still holding be in his arms, and we move around a

little bit until we're both laying lengthwise on his bed with his bare chest against my back, his arms hugging me, his breath on the back of my neck. We lay like this without talking, me too humiliated to even spring a boner. I would have a boner in my pants under normal circumstances any time I snuggled with him.

By the time the CD plays through all the cuts and has started on the first cut again my head has cleared, and I say, "I'm going to get up now, Ryan. Thanks for being nice, but I feel very embarrassed about my behavior. I guess Robby's right, my behavior sucks." He asks, "Did Rob say that to you?" I mumble, "In so many words, yeah, but he means well." I sit up and Ryan sits up with me. Just as I get the willpower to stand up and move away from Ryan, move anywhere that's away from the temptation of Ryan, I turn to him and lean back against him all over again. He turns his body towards mine and hugs me, rubbing the back of my head, his fingers in my hair, then pulling my head over for a kiss on my lips and both my arms go around him as I feel my eyes watering. I snuggle against him, asking pathetically, "Can't we be lovers, Ryan? Pleaseeeee." He kisses me and it's one of his special kisses that no one I've ever known can do nearly as well, and now my cock does bone-up tightly. I begin moaning with sexual pleasure creeping all over me. Then, before he breaks off the kiss, one of my legs goes over his lap and I'm humping my hips against his side gently, feeling an orgasm building in my balls. Ryan says quietly, "No, Dylan, don't do this to yourself," and he lets go of me and stands up, saying, "You're breaking my fuckin' heart here, Dylan. I've explained already I love you and want you, but I'd lose Marty." I go, "He won't know. How would he know?" Ryan lights another joint, his hands trembling a little as he fumbles with the lighter, "He'd know. I'm a terrible liar." I go, "He wouldn't know. You just don't want to do it with me. I understand."

Ryan exhales exasperatedly, passing me the joint but I shake my head 'no' and he takes another hit off it holding the smoke in his lungs for a bit. Then, as he's exhaling towards the window, he says, "It'd be worth it to lose Marty if I thought you'd stick with me, but there's complications. One of which is I don't want to do the dominant shit anymore because I don't want to hurt you. Not even if you want it and like it. And I've told you that before. Plus another complication is, well you know how you are, Dylan. I love you, but a month from now you might get bored with me again and change your mind. Where the fuck would that leave me. I'm not sexy looking and gorgeous like you. You snap your fingers and three gay boys fight each other for the chance to be with you. I snap my fingers and some bully tells me to, 'Cut that shit out, nerd!'." I'm getting mad, "Bullshit to both of your complications. I wasn't tired of you, ever. You make it sound like I'm some narcissistic asshole. It was you who moved to Georgia and took my heart with you, and this year it was you who were screwed-up because of the summer you spent with those perverted sadist you always seem to hook up with." He shrugs, "You're right, you're right." Putting out the joint, he rubs his face, muttering, "Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, Dylan, I can't. That's all, I just can't. I want to so badly, but I can't pull the trigger and take a chance on you." Fuck it, I'm done groveling. Picking up my toiletry kid, I say, "You don't have any reason to be sorry, Ryan. It's me who needs to apologize to you, and I do apologize for my pathetic groveling. It was inexcusable. I'm sorry for laying all my pathetic shit on you. It's my problem, not yours. You're fine." He says, "Don't go, Dylan, Not like this. We got all night," he looks at his wristwatch, "It's only four o'clock in the afternoon, for chrissakes. Let's hang out!"

I take a deep breath, then exhale while puffing my cheeks out looking at him. He grins sheepishly with an expression on his face that conveys, 'Come on...' Huh, he's so attractive, to me he is anyway. I shrug, "Sure, lets hang out. It'll be brutally painful for me to be with you knowing I can't have you, and I'll have a major case of blue balls, but what the fuck, it'll be worth it to me just being with you." He makes a 'face', then says, "Have you started taking drama lessons by any chance?" I smile, "No, that's from my pure heart. You need to kiss me through, and make-up for hurting my feelings worse than they've ever been hurt before. Rejection is such a motherfucker!" Ryan goes, "And you're sure you're not taking drama lesson, right?" I grin, shrugging, "It's from my heart, dude. Fuck a whole bunch of drama lessons." He comes over to stand in front of me, and to show him I'm cool with goofing off, I go, "Oh, have you stopped growing?" as I rub my hands back through his new buzz cut. He goes, "Yeah, this is as tall as I'm ever gonna get, sad, huh?" I lean my head down so our foreheads are touching, my hands on his shoulder. He says, "You can't possibly imagine how hard it is to resist you, Dylan. You have no fucking idea." I say, "Then don't," and he says, "Okay then, I won't," and his lips are on mine and our arms go around each other. The first long kiss is Ryan's magical one that lasts awhile. Soon precum rolls down the hard shaft of my fully boned-up cock as I moan into his mouth, "Mmmmm,mmm."

Ryan hasn't lost his kissing technique and I hate the thought of him using the way he's kissing me on those turd's in Georgia, or fuckwad Marty. I hope he saves this kiss just for me. My hands are rubbing all over his back and up the back of his head into his buzz cut hair, crisp and new. Our faces move together as we suck and kiss each other's lips and tongues. Ryan's moaning quietly himself now, hugging around my chest pulling me tightly to his smaller, hard body. His scent, taste, and the feel of him seems familiar and yet new because it's been awhile. Ryan's abandon all pretenses of self-control and hopefully he's allowing his true feeling to show, and it makes me squirm with pleasure knowing he still desires me. He's dragging his lips and tongue on my cheek, then licking hungrily around my mouth. Everything he's doing has a desperation feel to it, a sense of urgency and deep sexual attraction of sexual heat. We're both slightly wild and out of control, desperately and hungrily humping our crotches against each other, two hard boners dueling behind closed doors. Kissing and sucking and licking, saliva all around our mouths, slippery and wet and warm and smelling like him. My orgasm builds and builds, faster and faster until I'm whining with my mouth on Ryan's , "Ooooh, Ryan, oooh, Ryan, umm, umm, I'm, I'm, aaaaah, ooh," and cum burst as a spray into my underpants as I press my self against him stiff as a board continually pressing my hips against his. Then, a long , "Eeeeee," as my full climax explodes and a long stream of cum leaves my quivering rock hard cock creating a pool of cum in my pants, Then another stream of cum with blinding lights going off in my head. My crotch all sticky and creamy wet and me now laying limply against him, actually hanging onto Ryan, my face plastered against his, tears again in my eyes. I keep moving my face side to side, back and forth against his with Ryan rubbing my back and squeezing the back of my neck, going, "Shhh, shhh, it's all good Dylan," and I realize I'm shaking like a leaf and saying a mantra of, "Oooh, ooh, ooh, ooh," still humping against Ryan. He's doing side steps bringing us both to his bed where he gently pulls me over on the bed. I hug him with all my might, but I can't stop shaking. It was a scary strong climax with sizzling sensations of sexual ecstasy all around my groin while inside my thighs there were darts of sexual pleasure just this side of pain. Sensations die out quickly though and my shoulders do one last shudder, then I'm calmer. My now

flaccid cock laying helpless in my wet underpants, as wet as if I pissed myself and maybe I did. This is a new level of arousal for me. Maybe because of the long, long lead-up to our serious make-out with me daring to hope it would work out. Well, it hasn't actually worked out, not when I consider I climaxed after a three minute make-out with Ryan. What could I do though? His scent and his body and him, totally overwhelming all logic and sense in my brain and I've been yearning for him the past six weeks, enamored by memories of the way it was.

When my heart stops beating like a drum and I can catch my breath, still being held in Ryan surprisingly strong arms, I take one last deep breath, then turn my head to look in Ryan's eyes, saying, "Have I broken the world record yet for the most humiliating emotional displays in a row? I believe that's a category in the Guinness Book Of World Records, or if not it should be." He grins, shaking his head, "You're one of a kind, Dylan, but no, you haven't broken the record. You've merely tied the record for most humiliating displays. Tied with an obese man who couldn't stop farting in a packed church during a funeral service and after each fart he'd giggle uncontrollably." I go, "I tied him though, right?" Ryan says, "No, you nut, I lied. Fact is, if I'm keeping score and you haven't even had one humiliatingly emotional display. You have, however, managed to make me feel wonderful about myself. If someone as perfect as you is willing to humble himself for my affections, I must be okay or better than okay." I wrestle around to get face to face with him, rubbing my nose against his, then murmur, "I love you Ryan, I don't know why I thought I didn't because I do." He quietly says, as he's rubbing tears from my eyes with his thumb, "We've had this talk before a number of times. Is it that you're in love with me or in love with my sexuality, which just happens to fulfill most of your unconscious desires. And believe me, I'm shocked you feel so strongly about me. Shocked but honored too, at the risk of being corny." I say, "Where are your glasses?" He nods his head at the desk, "Didn't you see me take them off just before I attacked you?" I go, "I love your glasses and I'm thinking of getting a pair just like them, only with clear glass." He mutters, "Twin boyfriends, huh?"

Getting off the bed, I go over to pick up his glasses, walk back grinning and then slide the glasses on him, then get back on the bed, pick up his arm pulling it over and around me and snuggle into him. He laughs and hugs me. "I almost resisted you, Dylan, almost held out. Miracles of miracles, but in the end I couldn't and neither could anyone else you desired." My arm goes around behind his head and I pull it over to mine. With my lips touching his as I speak, I ask, "Do you kiss everyone like you kiss me?" He looks startled for a second, then a frown like he's puzzled. Finally a smile, and he says, "I never thought of that before, but no, I've never kissed anyone the way I kiss you. That is so weird. I kiss you the way I feel about you and I haven't ever felt about anyone else like I feel about you. Not even Rob in the early days. I was grateful to him for being nicer to me than any other guy ever, until I met you." I rub my nose against his again, then ask, "Do you love, Marty?" He goes, "Nooo! God no! Love him? Fuck no! Not even close. You're the only other person except my mom and dad that I've ever loved, and I love you much, much differently than my parents," and he stretches out the word 'much' like he stretched out the word, 'no' when I asked if he loved fuckwad Marty. I say, "You're making me feel good, Ryan." He nods his head a little, saying, "Let me ask you something, you know, since you're been asking me wicked personal shit about who I love." I shrug, "What's the question?" He comes right out with, "Do you love Rob?" I nod my head, "Yeah, I do," and he asks, "Could you ever imagine leaving him for me?" I drop my eyes, thinking, and he goes, "You couldn't, could you?" I look at him,

"There was a time I'd say I couldn't, but I didn't expect all my feelings for you to bombard me like they've been doing for weeks now, and Robby's been acting differently. Then I noticed myself always stealing glances at you and being clumsy on purpose to bump into you or touch you, seemingly accidentally. It just built and built until it exploded and I acted the fool you witnessed today. So, maybe I could leave Rob for you, Ryan. The best thing would be if our threesome went on forever and I wouldn't need to leave either of you."

He thinks about that as I stare at his lips comparing them to Theo/Bean's lips. They're almost identical and so are their eyebrows, and it's rare for guys to have tight narrow eyebrows like those two have. But that's about where the similarities of Theo and Ryan end. No, they both have long cocks too, but Ryan's is about twice as thick as Theo's. Nah, that's an exaggeration I guess. Hell, I'm surprised anything about Theo can compare to Ryan. Ryan says, "So you're saying maybe you could leave Rob for me, maybe. Well, I guess that's the best answer I've ever gotten from you about my chances. You're re-igniting my hopes, you devilish boy, even though I still have that niggling little thought in the back of my mine that no matter how close to winning you for myself, Rob would beat me by a nose." Ah, a horse racing analogy. I squeeze his nose, "It'd be hard to beat your cute nose, Ryan," and I push his glasses up that cute nose. He grins, "You better be being honest with me. It's going to be hard breaking this news to Marty." I say, "Don't break it yet. You say I'll change my mind and move on to another in a month, or whenever. Let me prove that's not gonna happen." He gives me a 'look' I can't interpret, and says, "So, I should live a lie with Marty and wait, huh?" I go, "Yep, that's what you should do. That's what I hope you do. You'll decide that for yourself."

He smiles, "Yeah, I guess I will at that," and we make-out some more, but not desperately like before. I'm thrilled, loving ever second of touching him, and tasting him, and smelling him close up like this again. It's just like I remember during our best days in the past. My hand's inside the back of his jeans now, squeezing his bare tight butt cheek and kissing and licking him even as my cock slushes around inside my underpants in the cooled spunk that's preventing it from boning-up. Then we just lay together with me running the back of my fingers over his newly buzzed hair and Ryan tracing a finger around my lips and every once in a while flicking that finger up the front of my nose in a teasing manner as he grins at me. He looks very happy and contended and I know I am. Finally he says, "You're the most attractive boy, young man, whatever, I've ever seen in my whole life and how I deserve to have you feel about me the way you do just blows my mind. Considering all the guys who mocked me and abused me growing up, and now look at me with you. How do you like me now, motherfucker's? Huh? Ha ha." I go, "Thanks for the compliments, Ryan." He goes, "I'm laying in bed with the hottest sexiest best looking young man ever, and those asshole's aren't. That's for all the losers who rejected me in most unpleasant ways. Plus I'm feeling how much you like me, Dylan." I say, "I love you." He murmurs, "Even better." Later he says, "I hate to do it, but I just gotta get up and take a piss before I piss my pants. Sorry." I go, "Don't be sorry, I've had to pee for an hour," and we both get up and go down the hall to the lavatory. We piss standing next to each others' urinal. Ryan says, "No peeking," so I look over at him pissing, thinking his large cock still looks out of place between his legs on that tight little smaller body and it occurs to me, it's just like Sonny's. Same oversized penises for undersized bodies. Well, not undersized, except for the size of their cocks.

There's a guy shaving at one of the sinks and two guys in the shower so I don't want to clean the spunk that's all around my groin here, but I wet a paper towel and take a few dry ones back to the room. In Ryan's dorm I drop my drawers and Ryan smirks watching me wipe spunk from my genitals. I look up, and say, "I'm washing my genitals," and he goes, "Yeah, that's what I guessed you were doing. Nice looking genitals you got there." As I'm drying myself I'm grinning, feeling much better about my situation down there although I still need to deal with my cum soaked underwear. I'm making a face wiping at the cum all over the front of my underpants. Ryan hops up, saying, "I'll get you a pair of my underwear, take those off." I do that and stand naked below the waist as he goes through a bureau drawer, muttering, "It'll be embarrassing if I don't have a pair of clean underwear." I go, "I hope you don't. Then I'd get to wear a pair of your dirty ones." He chuckles and then goes, "Ta da!" holding up a pair of tightie-withies. He tosses them to me, saying, "The 'Ta da' I got from you." I put his underwear on, muttering, "Catchy," then I ask, "Aren't you going to fuck me?" He says, "I'm planning on talking to you about that, Dylan." Rubbing my nose, looking at him, "So talk."

We sit on the bed again and Ryan says, "Well, when I lost my mind and began making out with you an hour ago, I had every intention of fucking you for a very long time. However I'd forgotten your propensity for cumming in your pants from making-out with me. When you did that, getting a bit crazy yourself, and then we calmed down on my bed, I began to think about it some more, you know without my head so cloudy with thoughts of sexual arousal centering around you. So here's what I thought about: As I said, I don't feel sexually dominant anymore. You were the first guy who ever let me fuck him. That was my cherry right there in that regard, and fucking you successfully emboldened me back then. Then I saw how receptive to dominant sex you were so I began imitating some of the things done to me when I was submissive; believe me, it was only the milder stuff. No matter though because that mild dominant stuff got you extremely aroused and it was exciting for me to see the affect I could have on you, but at the same time I knew it wasn't the real me. Like I told you at the beginning of this semester, we're alike, you and me. We both prefer being submissive bottoms and this is a long way around to saying, I can't be that dominant lover you like. If, however, a regular lover will do, I'd eagerly try that." He grins, shrugging, "Don't be mad at me, Dylan." I rub my fingers in his hair again, looking at him, "That's alright, Ryan, I got crazy aroused by you this afternoon and you were really nice to me, not even slightly dominant. Robby's not dominant either and we have wonderful sex." "Yeah, Dylan, for now, but how about a month from now when you crave a dominant sex partner? And you'll be out searching for your sub/dom fix at some point? I've been there, remember? I know the urges that can develop. They sneak up on you." I say, "Well, will you take my suggestion then? Live a lie with Marty until you and me are sure we're good." He says, "If I do, and we find we're awesome together a few months from now can I hope there's a chance I can win you from Rob? A real chance.That's the main factor we both need to face honestly, being honest with each other and with ourselves. Being honest with ourselves is the real sticking point, isn't it?"

to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com (mailto: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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Thanks.

Donny Mumford

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