DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR
Chapter 76
by Donny Mumford
Robby left a half hour ago to prepare for the team's last baseball game of the season. He had a fever last night but I knew that wouldn't keep him from playing. I'm definitely gonna be one of the spectators in the bleachers watching the game, mostly spectating the second baseman... heh heh. That's what I did in high school before I even knew Robby. He was so cute, sexy, and popular at the time I was intimidated by him. I finally forced myself to speak to him late in our junior year though, and we were off and running after that. Robby was very shy back then, although he's outgrown most of his shyness the past couple of years. Twenty minutes after Robby left, Chubby and I had a quick hug and a kiss, then he was off and running too, late for his last review class of the year. Everything's winding-down for our sophomore year with summer break enticingly just around the corner. Presently I'm alone in the apartment waiting for Ryan, who I expect any minute now. This morning he's giving me the haircuts I've been arguing against since coming back from spring break. I thought for once it'd be nice to have a hair style I could at least comb. Willie started the short haircut trend for me the two years we were boyfriends. During his more dominant days Willie would take me to the barbershop like I was a little boy and tell the barber the kind of haircut he wanted me to have. Those days probably ignited the flame of my current haircut fetish. Nowadays Ryan's eliminated the middle man and he gives me the short haircuts himself. Sometime during spring break I got the idea that a longer hair style would be a nice change. Well, Ryan disagrees
with that so we've been arguing back and forth about it since then. Ironically the haircut Ryan's been doing for me is one that's gaining in popularity, although that's just a coincidence. Ryan isn't current on hair styles, he only cares that my haircut's wicked short, claiming the haircut will be a reminder for me that he's the boss. Fuck, I don't need a reminder of that; it was my idea that he be the boss in the first place. Okay, so the intriguing aspect of the situation is this: I've had short hair styles for years now, so I ask myself... why have I chosen this particular haircut to take a stand on? Why not go along with what Ryan has in mind at least during the time I'll be in Georgia?
Hmmm, good question, but I have a possible answer. Could it be I'm testing Ryan? You know, to see if I can get my own way with him like I mostly do with Chubby and Robby. Am I that devious? No, not consciously I'm not, but maybe subconsciously I am. That's the conclusion I've come to while I'm lining-up barbering tools on the kitchen bar. Seeing the barber clippers makes me smile remembering how much fun it was cutting flat tops for Robby and Danny yesterday. Heh heh, I wonder what their teammates had to say about the new 'look' those two are rocking' today. Robby especially because he went from a ponytail to a flat top... quite a significant change. I admire Robby for having the balls to do what he wants without caring all that much what others thinks about it. Then a knock at the door interrupts my musings, and it's Ryan of course. He's all business this morning. We have a quick kiss 'good morning', then he smiles and nods this head at the bar where I've laid out everything for him like he told me to do. He starts over to the bar, but I get my arm around the back of his neck for another hug and another whiff of his sexy scent. He pats my back, saying, "Okay, I love you too, Dylan, but I want to get this haircut over with and finally put an end to all your bickering about it." I'm like innocent, "Bickering, what bickering?" He goes, "You know what I'm talking about. You need to accept that this is the
haircut you'll be getting every two weeks as part of our objective this summer. We're getting a head start on our summer routine now, that's all this is." I let go of him, "Okay, boss, you win. No more complaining from me." He mumbles, "Thank you for finally getting with the program." As we're walking to the bathroom for my shampoo, I ask, "Why so grumpy this morning, Ryan?" He shrugs, "Sorry, I don't mean to be grumpy. I guess it's because I was expecting more nagging from you, or at least some pouting about the haircut, and that upsets me. I don't like causing you to be unhappy, but we both agreed to a plan and I'm trying to stick with it." Grinning at him, I go, "Oh good, I like it when you get stern. You da man, Ryan." He laughs, mumbling, "Jesus, you're unpredictable." Inside the bedroom he points at the bathroom, jokingly pretending to be really stern, "Dylan, get your cute ass in there and sit the fuck down on that chair!" I do an exaggerated scamper into the bathroom taking my sweatshirt off as I go. Sitting in the chair I'm smirking at Ryan like I expect him to say, 'good boy'.
I'm in an especially good mood this morning because I'm finally over the concussion stuff, and feeling normal again. Plus, my balls are getting excited 'cause I'm about to get the extra short haircut I've been complaining about. Haircuts are sexually arousing to me, especially short ones, which begs the question even more: why have I been arguing against this particular haircut? Ryan follows me into the bathroom, saying, "You're like a little kid at times, Dylan." Sitting in the chair in front of the sink, I mumble, "That's because I've got the Peter Pan syndrome." Ryan puts a folded hand towel on the edge of the sink for my neck to rest on, then tilts the chair back against the sink. Patting my shoulder, he mumbles, "I don't even want to know what a Peter Pan thingie is." I go, "He never wants to grow up," and Ryan goes, "That's exactly what we want to change this summer." Huh! Then, like he tends to do everything, Ryan does the shampoo too fast. I still enjoyed it, but he didn't even think to sneak in a few kisses for his customer like I do. As I said, it's all business with Ryan this morning. Oh well, the
poor boy doesn't have a haircut fetish like moi, so he just wants to get it over with. Of course it doesn't take long to dry my short hair and all too soon Ryan mumbles, "We're done in here, Dylan. If you'll follow me to the
kitchen we'll get this haircut out of the way in short order." He had to sneak the word 'short' in there.
Walking down the hall, I asks, "Hey, didn't you used to like giving me haircuts? You act like it's an annoying pain in the ass now." He says, "I like giving you haircuts very much, Dylan. I like doing anything with you, but you've been nagging me about this haircut... that's the pain in the ass part." I shrug, "Yeah, but during spring break I decided I wanted to let my hair grow. You know, so I could at least comb it. I thought maybe..." He smiles, "I know what you thought. You thought I'd roll over, ignoring our plan, and let you have your way like everybody else does." I'm like, "No, that's not it at all! And anyway everyone does not let me have my own way. You've exaggerated and distorted that premise into something unrecognizable." He's like, "Okay, okay, lets not argue. You keep saying you have it bad for me and I'm thrilled you do, so why are you giving me a hard time about this. We're trying this program together, for your benefit, not mine. Right? You want me to be the one in charge so it's my responsibility to make decision about certain things and one of those things is your haircut. Maybe it's silly and pointless, but lets try it and see if you can tolerate not always getting your own way." Sitting on the stool, I go, "I already said I'm fine with it. I'm just pointing out that it doesn't seem to me you're as into me as you used to be, that's all." He's exasperated, slowly saying, "You're the one distorting the facts and shifting the focus from your bickering about the haircut to me not being as 'into you' as I used to be. Believe me, no one could be more 'into you', as you put it, than I am, Dylan. It's just that we're doing this thing where I'm the boss and that means me saying, 'no' to you sometimes. I guess you interpret that as me not being madly in love with you, when you know damn well that I am." I go, "Good to hear, but still... ." He puts his finger on my lips, going, "Shhh."
In the living room Ryan says, "Will you please sit on the stool now so we can do this and put it behind us." I'm like, "Not to be a contrarian, but I think what I said a minute ago highlighted that one thing does have something to do with the other." He shakes his head slowly, saying, "I'll probably sound like a pompous ass for saying this, but I think you need to grow-up a little, Dylan. You've been acting like a spoiled child who's being stubborn about eating his vegetables. Um, act a little closer to your age and stop all this childish bickering." I go, "Of all the fucking nerve! I like some vegetables," but I say it with a laugh in my voice because I even agree I need to grow the fuck up a little. Not to some stuffy degree, but I need to take some things a little more seriously than I'm currently doing. I'm not a teenager anymore although I wish I were, which is probably part of my problem. I slide onto the stool as Ryan's fiddling around with the barber tools, rearranging them, saying, "Ya know, everyone loves you, Dylan, but they also spoil you with compliments happily letting you have your own way." He picks up the bad boy Oster clippers, as I tell him in a more serious way, "Saying that doesn't make you a pompous ass so much as it makes you someone who doesn't know what the fuck they're talking about; no offense intended. Everyone does not love me and aside from Robby and my brother I challenge you to give me the name of one other guy who gives a shit what I want or don't want."
Ryan does a long exhale, then says, "Me for one, but okay, I exaggerated although the combination of Robby and Jeff loving you and letting you have whatever you want is enough right there to validate my premise." I mutter, "Validate? What kind of fucked-up word is that?" Ryan rubs the palm of his hand down his face like he's frustrated. He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. I'm looking at him wondering what his problem is? Taking a deep breath, he goes, "Lets drop the subject. We can't agree, and that's okay. Now, would you please not say anything else until I'm done with your haircut? Please!" I shrug, "Ryan, I'm in a damn good mood this morning because I'm over my concussion, and also because after the ball game I'll be going home for a few days. So I'm feeling good about getting away and seeing my mom and maybe some old friends back home. The thing is, dude, you're sorta raining on my parade a little. You're bringing me down, so can't you get in a good mood for me?" He's shaking his head slowly, but then grins, and mumbles, "You're incorrigible. Okay, I guess you can't be quiet while I do your haircut. Silly me for asking you to do that." He gives me a big smile now, then says, "See my smile, I'm happy too. Okay? Now can I do your haircut?" I go, "Sure. I'm curious why you haven't started it yet. And don't forget you first need to give me a kiss like ya mean it." He puts the clippers down, takes a deep breath, then mumbles, "Oh, I mean it alright." Lifting my head with a finger under my chin, he says, "Don't you realize you're my fantasy come true, Dylan. I've told you that before although I don't think you believe me. Take my word for this, I always mean it when I kiss you." He gives me a long wet sexy kiss as I wrap my arms around the back of his neck. Our faces slide together and his Ryan-scent fills my head. His tongue has the absolutely perfect texture and it tastes delicious. Ryan breaks the kiss and does that lick up the front of my nose, leaving saliva there. I gasp and grab my junk forgetting everything we've been talking about. Ryan takes hold of my wrist pulling my hand away from my crotch as he steps back and we both look at the tent in my sweatpants. Still holding my wrist and grinning, Ryan points at my lap, saying, "I just wanted to see if you shot off in your pants again." That makes me blush, which surprises me.
Smelling the back of my hand and hunching my shoulders at an unexpected submissive feeling that's now sliding over me. I don't know why except maybe when Ryan pulled my hand away from my crotch, then looked right at the pup tent in my lap, it got translated in my brain as me being thirteen years old again getting caught jerking off by my dad. That could be why I blushed and experienced this submissive sense, not that I had a dad to catch me jerking off. Ryan's unaware of all this of course, as he says, "There's your kiss with meaning, Dylan, now please let me concentrate on your haircut. Don't say anything until I'm done, okay? It won't take long." Oh god, my cock feels so good, but huh? What was that he just said? I didn't catch it, but I mumble, "Okay, Ryan," anyway. He smiles and picks up the clippers again, turning them on this time. Just the sound of barber clippers can get my dick tightening up. That's my haircut fetish coming alive. With his left hand on top of my head, Ryan pushes my head towards my left shoulder and holds it there as he too quickly runs the clippers from my sideburn up the right side of my head further than he should have and a shower of hair clippings scatter down onto my right shoulder with some sliding down my chest and others down my back. My fetish grows stronger now and my dick gets even harder. In my brain the image of Ryan too quickly using bare clippers cutting my hair very short has my fetish sizzling with sexual arousal. Keeping his hand on my head, Ryan runs the clippers too far up the side of my head four more times as I make a squeaky sound, sinking deeper into a submissive frame of mind. My fetish is firmly in charge of my brain now. It simply took over and I'm helplessly in it's grasp. I've nothing else on my mind except those clippers and the way Ryan's recklessly using them. Me saying anything during this haircut-fetish-induced submissive trance is out of the question. When Ryan's reduced the hairs on the right side of my head to a fine-sandpaper feel, he steps behind me pushing my head forward so far my neck is stretched and my chin is touching my chest. The clippers make their buzzing sound as he runs then too quickly all the way up the back of my head. It takes five passes to reduce the hair on the back of my head to basically no length, like the hairs on the right side. I moan, "Oooooh," so quietly I don't think Ryan heard it above the sound of the clippers.
He's been cutting further up the side and back of my head than the last time, and last time he did it further than he should have. I'm going to be home for almost four days, so maybe the extra shortness is so I'll remember him while I'm away. I'd have to say he's right too because I'll definitely think of him every time this fucked-up haircut comes to mind. Fucked-up or not it's sexually arousing and I'm squirming on the stool as I notice the first inklings of orgasm. It feels like I'm going to cum as I sink deeper into my submissive frame of mind. It takes some effort to keep my moans low enough so as not to humiliate myself. It's like this: Ryan proceeds with the haircut he wants me to have without caring what I want, and I sit docile here letting him do it. That's where the submissiveness comes into play: I have no say or control over what he's doing. Ryan cutting all the hair off the back up to the crown has me on the verge of cumming in my pants as it is, but now he pushes the clippers across the top of my head removing the hair from the crown. He's moves the clippers sideways from one side of my head to the other, pressing the clippers against my scalp. The buzzing sound of the clippers cutting through my hair reverberates in my ears and now I moan, "Oooh, aah," picturing it in my brain the top hairs being cut to the scalp, then I see the longer hairs he's cut from the top drifting down off my shoulder to fall to the tile floor. I gasp, shudder, and moan louder, "Oooh, aaahhhh." My body stiffens and jerks forward as a long tantalizing stream of cum pours into my underwear.
Ryan can tell I've just climaxed so he stops cutting, standing behind me holding the running clippers to the side. The sound of the clippers is all I hear. My eyes are closed as my hips jerk forward and more cum drools out of my cock emptying my nuts. Ryan doesn't say anything, he just waits until I finish my orgasm and my body stops shuddering. Tightening my groin muscles squeezes out a tiny bit more cum as orgasm sensations are rolling over me with my shoulders shuddering. A quiet, "Oooh, mmm," from me as I slump on the stool feeling pathetic and weak even as I'm savoring the uniquely awesome sensations of sexual climax. Letting out a long held breath slowly, my eyelids feel too heavy to open, I sigh, and then without a word Ryan continues the haircut. He must have missed a few hairs on the crown because he runs the clippers over the same area again pressing down and I hear the "Buzzzzz," of more hairs being cut. Now his hand is on top of my head again pushing my wobbly head to my right shoulder so he can cut all the hairs off the left side. Right after climaxing, the haircut doesn't feel sexually arousing anymore, but I expect I'll be in the grasp of my fetish again when the last lingering sensation of climax fades away. For the moment I'm mostly thinking this is just a much too short haircut, surpassing Willie's best efforts to have a barber cut my hair as short as he dares. No professional barber in his right mind would think of doing the haircut Ryan's done, not unless the customer insisted on it. For the moment I'm basically pissed-off because Ryan's overdoing it. My current pissed-off emotion is subject to change of course.
Ryan's goes over the sides, back, and crown again, then turns the clipper off and sets it on the bar. He stands behind me roughly rubbing my head with
both hands, finishing with a dismissive push on the back of my head. There's still no talking and without the sound of the clippers it eerily quiet. The way Ryan roughly rubbed and then pushed my head after blatantly cutting my hair ridiculously short, has changed my mood again. From being pissed- off, I'm now resigned to the fact that Ryan's dominant and I submissively know my place. The blasé manner Ryan's doing whatever he wants signifies to me that he really does intend being in charge and it's not just some vague concept anymore. I gaze at him as he's choosing the quarter inch guide for the clippers. That's the length the rest of the hairs on top on my head will be when he's finished. With the quarter inch guide in place he turns on the clipper and stands behind me, his left hand cups my chin pulling my head back, then he runs the clippers across the hairline above my forehead and just like that the combed-over bangs drift down to land in my lap. With his hand still cupping my chin he pulls my head back a little further and then guides the buzzing clippers from my forehead back to the hairless crown on top of my head.The "Buzzzzz," of hairs being clipped off is louder than the normal buzz of the clippers and almost makes me cum again. My hips hump a little as I'm back totally captured by my haircut fetish, and in my mind I'm already eagerly looking forward to the next haircut from Ryan. He runs the clippers all over my head front to back with my neck stretched back, and then he does it again baring down on my scalp. He's finally done with the top, lets go of my chin, and turns off the clippers. Again it's deadly quiet. I don't know how long this haircut's been going on, but in some ways it seems like hours, and it other ways like three minutes. Using the trimmer clippers Ryan meticulously outlines around my ears which makes the hairs on the side appear a tiny bit longer, contrasting with the trimmer outline.
Turning off the trimmers it's again so still in here I can here myself panting quietly, sexually aroused again. I've experienced a few emotional changes during the haircut, and I'm not sure which one I'm in now. Ryan gets the
Oster clippers running again without the guide and I have no idea why, or what he intends doing with them. He holds them on an angles and runs them across the hairline at my forehead and continues around my head. This more or less blends the bare-clipper cut with the quarter inch hair on top. I'm very surprised he knows that technique. Well, he did tell me a month or two ago he'd studied online haircut training videos so he'd know how to give me a good haircut. Nowhere in those videos did he see bare clippers used on the crown of anyone's head unless he looked at video for military haircutting. Ryan turns off the clippers for good now, then gives the back of my head another dismissive rough push, like: 'You're scalped now, deal with it!' After putting the clippers down he rubs his hands over my head, then says, "Take a look at the haircut you'll be getting all summer." I sit here in a fog as he continues talking, "It occurred to me while cutting your hair that it wasn't unique enough, so I added something new," and he rubs the hairless crown of my head with a smug expression on his face as he looks at pathetic me. He's not the least bit concerned what I think about anything. I can't even speak yet anyway so his comment gets no reply from me. Actually I feel like I'm much younger than Ryan, who might be the dad I've never had, although I'm not sure how that would work. I appear unable to do anything, so I continue sitting here like a fool. Now Ryan looks at me with some concern because he's recognized my condition, so he says, "Dylan, you're okay, you're fine," and he hugs my shoulders, putting the side of his face against mind. It feels comforting and I lean against him. He murmurs, "Your haircuts done, Dylan, snap out of it, okay?" He's dropped all his dominant attitude, probably worried he's gone too far. I don't think my haircut fetish has ever approached the intense level it did this morning, but then I've never had a haircut experience like Ryan's provided. No, wait, that's not completely true 'cause once or twice before I've had strong reactions. There were a couple of times when Willie was instructing the barber how to cut my hair and the barber was treating me like a little kid. I even regressed in age which was a totally dreamy experience. I don't think I shot off in my pants though.
As soon as Ryan spoke with concern in his voice the fog or trance began to lift and quickly my eyes start blinking as I'm returning from never-never land, finally back to reality. In a more normal frame of mind unencumbered by submissiveness, I'm little pissed-off now, "Why the fuck did you use bare
clippers over the top of my friggin' head?" I'm looking right at him, as he shrugs, asking, "Whaddaya mean, Dylan? It's obviously the way I wanted to cut your hair... that's the explanation, that's why I did it." Picking up the hand mirror I hold it at the crown, saying, "Do you see this?!" Ryan's brushing clippings off my shoulder, grinning, "Yeah I see it, I did that on a whim to emphasize to you that I'm in charge, and you're not. I wasn't planning to do that, but then I thought your haircut needs a more severe slant. It was looking too much like those new haircuts styles I'm seeing on guys now and then. You know, the ones with the sides almost shaved like yours." Huh, I guess he does know about hair style trends. I mutter, "Oh," and get up without a trace of a trance now. "Just so ya know, Ryan, I think that was a mean thing to do, and I didn't think you were mean." He shrugs, "I'm not mean, and as I told you a little while ago, I hate making you unhappy. However, if I expect you to really believe your haircut represents me being the dude in charge, I needed to do a haircut that'll get your attention, not one that's becoming popular." I'm holding the mirror over my head seeing basically a circle of hair on the front two-thirds of my head, and you know what: I've seen this exact haircut on Marines in a movie, exactly like this, but I can't remember the movie's title. I nod my head at Ryan's explanation, then go, "Yep, you got my fucking attention alright. You know what this haircut is like?" He says, "Yeah, it's a duplicate of the Marines haircuts in a movie I saw on HBO. That was the model I used." Huh, Ryan's on his game today. I ask, "What's the name of the movie?" He shrugs, "Don't remember," and neither do I, but I bet it was the same one I saw. I say, "Well, in case you don't know it, I'm not in the fucking marines!" He laughs, "Are we going to go through this every two weeks all summer?" I'm like, "No, I don't believe we are." Ryan smiles squeezing the back of my neck, "I'm glad to hear that. Um," and he points with his forefinger at the cum stain at my lap, "Ya did it again, huh?" I can't help but laugh, mumbling, "Yeah, that happened when you destroyed the hairs at the crown of my head, plus it was the way you did everything. The dismissive pushes on my head, and everything you did caused my haircut fetish to just take over."
He asks, "Ya gonna change your pants?" I'm like, "No, I don't think I will. I'm going to the ball game with a cum stain on my lap to remind myself you're in charge." Ryan says, "That's a good idea, but for now come on back to your bedroom and I'll fuck you." I suck on my lips wanting to say, 'No, you won't', and I should be able to say that because I just had an orgasm ten
minutes ago, but I say, "Okay," and we walk down the hall with my hand on my head feeling what's left of my hair. I can feel bristles on top and what feels like fine-sandpaper every where else. It'll be impossible not to think of Ryan every time I feel my head or see myself in a mirror. Ryan's puts his arm around the back of my waist giving me a squeeze as I'm thinking, 'If I'm okay with Ryan's absurd haircuts, and I apparently have accepted them, I might as well admit for the better part of the next three months I'm gonna be doing what I'm told. This is for real'. I gotta admit Ryan handled everything this morning in a perfectly dominant fashion, and now I've got to trust him not to take advantage of the control he can exert over me. It looks like my desire to have someone cute who I sort of love being in charge for an extended period of time is actually going to happen, and I'm apprehensive about it now. Even though it makes me apprehensive, the thought that it's for real sends shivers of delicious submissiveness all over me. I lean against Ryan putting my arm around the back of his waist grinning at him. He smiles, saying, "This new relationship of ours, Dylan, it's going to be so fucking cool." And for a second I get the crazy sense that Ryan's walking me as a child to the principal's office for being bad in class. Man, this is a weirdly sexy feeling.
It's my bedroom though, not the principal's office we walk into. Ryan picks up my wrist to look at my watch, "This will be a quickie, babe. I need to be at the baseball facility picking up jock straps, as you describe my job as equipment manager." I ask, "What do you really do as equipment manager?" He goes, "I'll tell ya later, for now get your clothes off." Oh man, first the haircut and now an encore of Ryan acting kinda dominant. I strip as Ryan watches without taking anything off himself. When I'm naked I gawk at the wetness around my groin, compliments of my orgasm. Then look over seeing Ryan taking his big slong out through the fly of his jeans. He nods his head at the floor so I get on my knees and he walks right up to me, his crotch near my face. His scent is sexy as I put his soft penis in my mouth. I'm sucking and licking it as Ryan runs his fingers over the round of quarter inch hair on top of my head, saying, "You can tell people you're in the Marines, Dylan. They'd believe you because why else would you have a haircut like this?" With saliva on my chin, I take his hardening cock from my mouth to say, "Why indeed," and go back to slurping on his huge penis. Smiling to myself I'm thinking how most people couldn't understand why I think all of this is hot and sexy, or why I'm kinda excited about finally discovering if an extended submissive state of mind is as desirable as I've always thought it would be. In my imagination it's always been with the right dominant partner, someone who's dominant in the right way and who has my best interest at heart. A guy I kinda love and enjoy being with, and Ryan qualifies on all counts. Robby's closer to fitting that role than he's ever been, and I'm pretty sure as the boss position he's in with his dad's company continues it'll eventually translate to a bossier role in out relationship. For now though Ryan's better suited to it, so I'll see how I like this Georgia experiment. Will it be a lazy and dreamy experience without me having any serious responsibilities to worry about, mostly letting Ryan make all the decisions while he takes care of me and looks out for my welfare? That's how I envision it anyway. The elephant in the room for that scenario being Ryan's parents. They could screw things up, but that remains to be seen. There's also a significant possibility it'll be a bust, but also it might be a spectacular success making it hard for me to chose between Ryan and Robby in the end. Dropping Robby is inconceivable of course, but life is weirdly and wildly unpredictable at times.
Two minutes of sucking his cock and Ryan goes, "Oh, baby, that's some good cock sucking you're doing there, Dylan my boy! My big dick is plenty hard now and feeling good. You've got me aroused for a recreational doggy fuck on
your primo ass." I'm already on my knees, so I drop down on my hands and look up at my master, going, "Arf, arf!" He grins taking something from his pocket and handing it to me, "I came optimistically prepared, Dylan. It's a tube of lube and you can do the honors." Sitting up I squeeze quite a bit of it on my fingers, then get my fist around his huge hard cock and twist my way from the root of his tree, up to the swollen dark red head. Then more lube and I do it again squeezing a little harder and Ryan goes, "Mmm, fuck, that feels good. Hey, did I ever tell you I used to jerk off with Vaseline? It's a bitch cleaning my pecker and hand after the fact though." I mumble, "Tell be about it. I used baby oil, the unscented kind and it was no picnic cleaning that off either." Another squeeze gets lube on my index finger. Handing the tube back to Ryan, I drop one hand to the floor in the doggy fucking position, and reach behind me spreading slippery lube on my anus, then push my finger in my asshole and lube inside. Ryan's walking around behind me, asking, "You ready, babe?" I nod, "Always for you, Ryan." He smacks my ass, "SMACK! SMACK!" just the two smacks this time because I screamed at him last time for overdoing the spanking. Two or three, even four or five smacks on my ass gets the sexual arousal soaring, and it's a head-start for a dreamy submissive curtain to begin descending slowly over my brain. Accepting a spanking from a peer is a very submissive act.
Assisted greatly by the lube, Ryan punches his cock's head right past my sphincter. It went in easy as far as he's concerned, but it hurts back there as far as I'm concerned. I move around a little, groaning, "Ooh, ooow, that's fucking tight." Ryan say, "When we get home it'll be a week of four fucks a day to get you stretched out, Dylan. I hate seeing you hurting like this, but it'll only be for five days to a week once we get to Georgia." My anus is greatly stretched right now, it's lips clutching the shaft of Ryan's boner just below the head where it's not as fat. The lips of my asshole soon relax enough for me to push back on his boner getting two inches to slide tightly inside my rectum. I grunt, wait a few seconds, then manage to say, "It's already better than last time," Ryan murmurs, "Good to hear," and he humps a couple more inches in and that does hurt as I arch my back, "Oooow, oh fuck, that hurt." Ryan leans over my back, cupping my shoulder with both hands and then pulls me back onto his boner until his groin is tightly against my buttocks. I groan, "Ohhhh, that really hurt." Ryan says, "Sorry, but I thought it'd be best to get it over with all at once." I'm moving my body without going anywhere, just squirming in place as the pain begins fading, so I mumble, "That was a good idea, Ryan."
He leaves his big boner impaling me while he massages my shoulders, asking, "Any submissiveness left over from the haircut?" I squirm a little more, definitely feeling my ass is overloaded which is making it hard for me to think about his question. Often I don't notice the early stages of a submissive sense in my head, not unless I slip into a very noticeable submissive trance, like when my haircut fetish kicked in a little while ago. Mostly it's more of a cumulative thing. Oh man, the submissiveness I felt during parts of that butchering haircut were awesome. Right now though I'm not noticing much of anything except my sore asshole. I tell him, "I don't think there's much submissiveness left's, Ryan. I have no control of it, ya know." He mutters, "I know all too well." Then he adds, "I'm going do your next haircut the day we're leaving for our trip home to get you in the right frame of mind. Hopefully your submissive mood will continue in minor ways all summer satisfying your desire for it, which is part of our program. You know, so you won't need to seek a dominant partner elsewhere. Over this weekend you'll forget most of today's submissiveness, and then there's a week and a half before we leave. During that time we'll have finals on our mind. So, that's why I've decided the day we're leaving for home is the right time to do the extreme haircut putting you back into a submissive frame of mind, ha ha, submissive to me that is." I'm not listening very closely to his ramblings because now his cock is setting off sparks of sexual pleasure in my rectum and anus. Two areas where many, many nerve endings reside and even though they initially caused pain, they've now switched gears to pleasure mode. Fucking nature, huh! Right now those sensations are almost like an itch, an itch that a moving boner can scratch awesomely.
Ryan senses the change in my posture and does a couple of long thrusts in my ass getting my back arching again, as I go, "Ahhhh, mmm, Ryan that feels good. Really tight but, oh my god, your cock feels so good up my ass." He grunts, "My big cock feels mighty good in your asshole too," then he groans, "Oooh, umm," adding, "I've told you a hundred times we were meant for each other." Another half dozen thrusts gets me arching my back during the first couple of thrusts, and then I'm humping back into the last few. My rectum is ready for it now and Ryan knows it. He grabs my hips and gets into harder, faster thrusting and I'm in ecstasy for a couple of luscious minutes. My forearms drop down on the floor so I can push my throbbing ass up making it easier for Ryan to fuck me hard. My forehead is resting on the back of my arms moaning as Ryan rocks my body foreword with each hard slam of his big log up my ass. It feels so good I have tears in my eyes and I'm moaning constantly, my moans keeping time with Ryan's grunts. I blew a big load in my pants when Ryan ran the clipper over the top my head, and thinking back on that now adds to my incredibly high sexual arousal and increasing the sensations of sexual pleasure I'm feeling. After only three or four minutes Ryan's making desperate moaning sounds like he's getting close to climax, He goes, "Uum, uum, uum," whiney sounds like you get when you're right on the verge of blowing your load, but you're not quite there yet. Thinking of Ryan's orgasm soon pouring inside me gets me further aroused and my cock gets even harder as it swings under me with Ryan hammering into me with each drive up my ass.
Another minute of steady hard, fast thrusting and Ryan just stops. "Ahhh, ooh," from Ryan as he lays his chest on my back and his arms go tightly around my stomach. He pushes his cock inside me until he's tightly against my buttocks, waits a second and then begins an incredibly fast rabbit fuck with thrusts as fast as I've ever experienced and in twenty seconds everything seem to go black as I squeal thrashing about under Ryan with little squirts of cum firing out of my cock and me feeling faint from the intensity of those little spurts of pleasure. A whine from Ryan as he hold his cock fully inside my ass frantically humping against my buttocks flooding my bowels with his seed. Another hump against me and more cum joins their brothers in my bowels, but I'm thinking mostly about the thrilling sensations my little orgasm created. Little yes, but really hot! Still hugging around my chest Ryan takes a ride in my slippery ass, but much slower with long lazy thrusts before pulling his cock out and staggering backwards, almost falling as he straightens up, exclaiming, "Damn, that was one hot fuck! Oh man, jesus that was a good one!" I roll over to lay on my back taking deep breaths looking up at Ryan, and then stare as his large cock that's now semi-hard and slimy with his own cum and the lube. He takes another deep breath, "I'd let you suck it again, Dylan, but it's got all that lube on it and I don't think you want that in your mouth." I'm pretty fucking sexually satisfied myself so I wasn't even thinking about sucking that big bad boy of Ryan's. The spontaneous orgasm from my haircut fetish was very hot, but for me nothing feels as good as orgasms from anal fucking. That relatively little bit of spunk in my orgasm felt like: kaboom! Love those second orgasms.
Ryan's holding his hand down to help me up and when I'm standing we hug with Ryan murmuring, "You're wonderful, Dylan. Thanks for everything you've done for me, and special thanks for trusting me enough to stay with me this summer." He kisses my lips with his hand on the back of my head rubbing my fine-sandpaper-feeling hair back there. Already I've rationalized the haircut into being a welcome and spectacular sexual adventure, mainly from my haircut fetish's perspective. My fetish experience was so recent it carried over some to our sex, making that extra hot and sexy. The way I'm feeling right now if someone attached a lie detector to me and give me a big shot of sodium thiopental and then ask me if I'm looking forward to Ryan's next butchered haircut, I'd truthfully say 'Yes, I am'. Of course it's the way Ryan went about the haircut that counts too. He showed no hesitation, was rough about it, and didn't care what I'd think about it when he was finished. All that was obvious to me from his body language during the haircut. He'll probably care what I think about it later, but he didn't care when he was doing my haircut. In other words, he was totally in his dominant frame of mind doing the haircut his way, and I'm a sucker for that. Also he's got tons of experience being on the other side so he knows what turns on submissive types like me, which he once was.
Ryan asks, "Did you shower this morning?" I go, "I didn't, do I stink?" He laughs, "You'd never stink, Dylan. No, I was thinking we'd take a quick shower together. Not a sexy one, unfortunately, because I really gotta get going." I shrug, "Sure, I'm pretty well taken care of in the sex department at the moment, not feeling horny at all." He grins. "Me neither," and as we walk into the bathroom, he says, "Tell me about that submissive haircut fetish of yours. It seems really, um, unusual to me." During the shower I explain that it's actually not all that unusual as there are a number of websites totally devoted to haircut fetishes. Short haircut, head shaves, forced haircuts with the victim tied-up, and a lot of other stuff too. Ryan doesn't get how a haircut is sexy, but then I don't understand it either. For some of us it just is.Then I tell him, "It's hard describing how it feels other than to say it's sexually arousing. So arousing to some people they get really nervous with their hands shaky, and generally wickedly turned-on from getting a short haircut. Some get turn-on to the degree they can barely function. I'm not that bad, but then I've only realized I developed this fetish during the last year or so. I can't describe why I have it, I just do. Ya know, it's like why does someone gets sexually aroused putting on leather pants, or from being tied up, or a guy get a sexual rush wearing woman's clothing." I don't think anybody knows why they have the fetish they have." As we're drying ourselves, Ryan mumbles, "I wish I had that fetish, I wish I had any fetish that's sexually arousing." I'm skeptical, "You sure you don't have a fetish, Ryan?" He shrugs, "I don't think so, not since I've walked away from the need to be submissive. I'm not even sure being submissive is a fetish." I go, "How 'bout you getting a boner from being spanked, and sometimes you get a boner spanking me." He shrugs again, "Not anymore I don't." See, nobody understands fetishes.
After drying, I get dressed in clean clothes throwing the cum soaked underpants and sweatpants in with the dirty laundry. Going down the steps to the parking lot Ryan pats my shoulder, asking, "Hey, don't you want to wear a hat, Dylan. I mean, with this," and he rubs my head. I go, "Fuck it. Everyone I care about will see it soon enough, and as for strangers I don't give a fuck what they think." I almost stop in my tracks realizing that what I just said is actually true. Holy shit, when did I finally realize it's stupid to worry about what everyone thinks. Just be myself and do no harm. That's what I say about having sex, and it applies to the rest of life as well. Then I smile to myself, thinking, 'Willie would be so proud of me'. Yes, he's been trying to get me turned around to his way of thinking as long as I've known him. He's never given a shit what anyone thinks. Willie's as responsible for this change in me as anyone. Good old Willie. Ryan hands me the keys to the Mini, saying, "You might as well drive us to Merrimack, Dylan. I guess I need to get use to your fast driving since we'll take turns driving the Mini home." I get in the drivers seat wondering if I should mention that's his home is not my home. He said we'd be going 'home' a number of times this morning.
Being conscientious about staying near the speed limit we make it to Merrimack campus okay, and then I park as close to the baseball field as I can. As we're walking the rest of the way Ryan glances at my head every couple of
seconds, or should I say he's glancing at the haircut he gave me. I'm ignoring that because it's like I'm sick of talking about this haircut, and frankly, I'd rather not think about it. I feel scalped and the breeze feels odd on my almost hairless head. Ryan asks, "Do you think I overdid it with the haircut?" I shrug, "Duh, ya think? Don't worry about it though, hair has a way of growing out." He puts his arm across my shoulders, saying, "That's the right attitude, Dylan. I probably overdid it, but we'll say this is the model for the rest of the summer. I promise not to go any shorter." I puff out my cheeks blowing out air, then mumble, "You'd be kinda hard pressed to make it any shorter, wouldn't you say?" He says, "Yep, I would be, but I could do it shorter if you're naughty... heh heh," and his hand reaches up from my shoulder rubbing the back of my head, adding, "I'm kinda liking this hairdo on you the more I see it. You'll be my marine boy," and he rubs my head again. The thought occurs to me again that I need to be careful what I wish for.
At the gate to the baseball stands, he goes, "I gotta take off now, babe, but I'll see you after the game. Will you make sure you see me before leaving?" That was put as a question, but I know it was an order. I go, "Sure, Ryan, I won't leave without saying goodbye." He stops, and grins, saying, "We're getting off to an awesome start, don't ya think?" He looks so eager for me to agree with him, I push his glasses up his cute nose, smiling, and saying, "Yep, we're getting off to a great start, boss. You're doing everything perfectly." His eyes shine as he smiles, "Thanks, Dylan" and he runs off towards the locker rooms. Like I've said, it's not hard making Ryan happy. Then, as I wander through the gate looking up at the stands for a spot to sit without a lot of students around me, I'm wondering what bad things have happened in Ryan's life that now the littlest positive thing makes him happy. I know about his bad choices for dominant sex assholes, but that doesn't account for all of his life these twenty years. What about the rest of the time. What'd he do other than the sub/dom sex, and what has his home life been like? The way he tells it, home life was idyllic. Guess I'll get an idea of that in the not too distant future, and sharing the same bed we'll have lots of time to talk too, so maybe I'll find out why he was so unhappy until meeting Robby and me.
Walking by the stands looking up, someone grabs my arm, saying, "What the fuck, Dylan?" I turn to see Jarod Mellingcamp. "Hey, Jarod, whassup?" He points to my head, "What's that suppose to be?" I shrug, "A misunderstanding between me and my barber." He laughs, "That's an awful haircut, dude." I go, "Well, thanks for sympathizing with me, Jarod, old pal." He goes, "I'm sorry, it's just that I've never seen a haircut like that before, that's all." I mumble, "Enjoy the game," and step up onto the bottom bleacher and make my way to the top exchanging remarks about my haircut with strangers as I go. Near the top of the bleachers I walk along to the end of the section and sit, resting my arm on the railing. I'm thinking back to when my face would have been bright red with embarrassment from guys ragging on me about this butchered haircut. What a waste of energy it was doing all that blushing. Then I think back to middle school and the Brockco twins who's mother gave them home haircuts that were just dreadful. The twins thought nothing of it. If someone commented unkindly about their home haircuts, one or the other of the identical twins would says something like, 'Our mom give us haircuts to save money. She does the best she can with it.' Just like that, the truth of the matter, with a so-what attitude if you don't like it. The twins were polite about it and not self conscious at all. They figured out years before I ever did that some things simply aren't that important. Guys would mock the twins behind their backs, but I always sort of admired them.
Because Ryan has to do some equipment manager things, whatever they might be, we're here early. It's eleven-twenty and the game doesn't start until noon. Players are on the diamond and in the outfield warming-up in uniforms that look so clean and bright. That's always fascinated me about the Red Sox and Paw Sox players. They always look like their wearing brand new uniforms. I wonder who does their laundry. I watch guys take batting practice, smiling when I see Robby looking so cool taking his swings. Danny's right behind Robby waiting for his turn in the batting cage. He looks cool too, and then I remember their new haircuts and wonder how much shit they had to hear from teammates. Hey boys, I feel your pain. Then the unmistakable smell of cooking hotdog's drifts by on the breeze so I look around and see a refreshment stand below, and one section over. Okay, I'm hungry, so I get up and make my way down as a kid I don't know announces, "Military personnel on campus," then his buddy says, "Thank you for your service." I think he was serious, so I wave my hand in their direction without looking at them.
While I'm waiting in a short line at the refreshment stand Chubby comes up and wraps me in his arms from behind, energetically saying, "It's my big brother!" I shrug out of his hold, "Chubby! Hey, bro, congratulations, you're
finally done with those fucking review courses, right?" He's with John Beverly and two girls. Chubby's like, "Yeah, bro, and thank god for that. Hey this is Bev, and that's my hot babe, Darlene," pointing at each one, then adding, "You know John Beverly of course... heh heh." I go, "Yeah, I know John Beverly. Hi, John Beverly," and we bump fists, then I say to the girls, "Nice to finally meet you two. Um, Darlene, I wanna ask you a question. Do you call John, John Beverly?" She exchanges looks with her girlfriend, then looks back a me, saying, "Well, yeah, that's his name." I ask, "What's your last name?" and she's like, "Milkins," so I ask, "Do your friends always refer to you as Darlene Milkins, or just Darlene?" Chubby goes, "Yo, bro, these questions are too hard for Darlene," making Darlene giggle and says, "Oh you, Jeffrey." Bev asks, "What the fuck kind of haircut do you have, Dylan?" I go, "An unfortunate one," and she goes, "I'll say, ha ha, jesus, that sucks!" Chubby says, "No need to be nasty to my big brother, Bev. That pisses me off, and by the way whaddaya call that hairdo you've got there on your head?" Bev says to Darlene, "I told you this was a bad hairdo. Fuck, I'm never going back to Super Cuts." Chubby says, "Fuck a whole bunch of haircuts," and he pinches my cheeks together, asking, "Have you ever seen a cuter face than my brother's?" Darlene says, "No, actually I haven't, he's even cuter than you, Jeffrey. He adorable." A guy behind me asks, "What can I get ya?" I turn around and there a middle age man behind the counter of the refreshment stand. It's my turn to order so I ask for a hotdog and a small Coke. He gets them and passes both to me with a wrapper around the hotdog, and says, "Condiments to your right, son." I hand him a five dollar bill and he says, "No, this is my treat, soldier. Thanks for your service." That gives me a chill as I think of the military men and women who actually deserve hearing that. Still holding the five dollar bill towards the man, I'm about to explain myself when Chubby nudges me to the side, saying, "Yeah, thanks for your service, kid" as he grins at me, then he orders a hotdog and I mumble, "Thanks for the hotdog," as I put the five dollar in my pocket.
I put mustard on the dog thinking how Chubby would never mention my haircut unless he could compliment it, like he's done for most of the bizarre haircuts I've gotten over the years. This one though he can't compliment, so he just wouldn't say anything about it. I saw, what I recognize, as an angry frown on Chubby's face when that girl, Bev, said what she did about my haircut. Whenever I think about Chubby, my brother, I feel warm and wonderful inside. To have someone like Chubby getting my back like he always has our entire lives is a priceless gift that few are lucky enough to have. Now Chubby's next to me at the condiment stand heaping every condiment they offer on his hot dog. His girlfriend laughs, "You're crazy, Jeff." Chubby takes a huge bite and chews with his cheeks bulging. When he swallows he says to me, "See, bro, I didn't eat with my mouth open." I say, "You're making progress with that, bro, but you forgot to pull up your fly after the last piss you took." He goes, "You didn't tell me I needed to pull my fly up every time I pee." I laugh shaking my head because he says everything like he's serious. Darlene says, "Your fly's not down, Jeff." Chubby goes, "Good, you're in charge of frequently checking on that, Darlene," then to me, "Sit with us, Dylan." I shake my head, "No thank, Chubby, I'd feel like a fifth wheel." Bev asks John Beverly in a stage whisper, "Why's he call Jeff, Chubby?" I pat Cubby's shoulder, "Love ya, bro," and walk towards the bleachers and walk up to the spot I was at before getting the hotdog.
With the umpires standing around home plate an announcer asks everyone to stand and remove their hats for the playing of The Star Spangled Banner. A recording of it begins and the players stand in the dugout facing the flag in center field with their caps over their hearts. I'm looking at Robby's and Danny's retro flat tops, the hairs sticking up crisply with the help of a little hair gel. It gives me a funny feeling knowing I gave the guys the haircuts. Personally I think they look cool. The national anthem's over and fans in the stands sit down, the players run out on the field, and the game starts. I happily watch because I like baseball and I like looking at the young baseball players. I know it's much too slow a game for many, but the pace suits me. I remember Freddie's reaction to baseball the first time I met him, he claimed the game of baseball is an awesome sports for insomniacs. Ha ha! I feel the same way about their football, that we call soccer. Most favor the sports they grew up with and then there are those who don't like sports of any kind, and they significantly outnumber the sports fans. The network's MLB game of the week, for example, averages two and a half million viewers out of the three hundred million people in the US. I wonder what the rest of the people are doing? Today's baseball game slowly goes on inning after inning and at the top of the fifth, Robby hits a home run with two men on base... a three run homer. I'm so proud of him as I watch him cooly circle the bases and step on home plate with his teammates high-fiving Robby and tapping his cap and back. It's cool how all the players congratulate their teammates when someone does something good. That's a team thing and something I haven't experienced much of in my life. Occasionally I see Ryan collecting batting armor for the guys who wear it on their elbow or ankle while batting. The game goes into extra innings and then Merrimack wins in the bottom of the tenth. Neither Robby or Danny was a part of the winning rally, but they both had big hits during the game, Danny had two as a matter of fact. Okay, the players mob their teammate who drove in the winning run and then slowly they drift into the club house and locker room.
Leaning back against the bleacher seat behind me I sit here watching everyone leave feeling good for Robby. Then I'm thinking how the stands were less than half full for this last game of the year. Merrimack's student body doesn't support baseball the way they do ice hockey. Our ice hockey team is a
force in the league we're in. Whatever, at least Robby will be happy during our drive to Framingham because he hit a home run and his team won the game to finish the season at .500. Not great, but better than a losing season. Almost everyone is out of the stands when I get up and begin making my way down the bleachers to ground level. I hang around just outside the gate waiting for Robby and hoping to see Ryan. He told me to make sure I say goodbye before I leave for the long weekend, and I'd like to see him too. It's twenty minutes before I see anyone come out of the clubhouse and I know they're not players. Then I see Ryan looking around so I shout over to him and he does that finger wiggle, meaning, 'come here'. I jog over to him as he says, "Good! You waited for me. There's a celebration in there with the guys reluctant to leave now that their season is over. Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow, huh? Anyway, Rob told me to give you a ride back to the apartment. He'll try to get there by five." I nod, "Okay. Are we going now?" Ryan nods his head and we start walking as he grins, asking, "Did you see me on the field picking up jock straps?" I chuckle, "I saw you down there making yourself useful." He pats my shoulder, then squeezes the back of my neck and we grin at each other.
Almost to the Mini, Ryan has a hand on my shoulder, saying, "Would it be asking too much during the next three days for you to drop me a text or an email, Dylan? Freddie's spending the next few days with his family. He invited me to join him, but I wasn't feeling it so I'll be kind of alone and it'd be nice to hear from you." I mutter, "Sure, of course, but why didn't you go with Freddie?" He shrugs, "I don't know. Um, did anyone give you grief about, you know," and he lifts his hand from my shoulder to rub my head. I go, "No, not at all." He's like, "Oh, good! That's good 'cause I'd feel bad if they had. I wish I could think of some other way to remind you of what we're doing, something besides the haircut; it was on my mind the whole game." I shrug, and he adds, "I looked in the stands a few times but didn't see you." I tell him where I was sitting and when we get in the car he pulls my head over holding the side of my face against his for a few seconds, than kissing me, asking, "Have I told you lately that I love you, Dylan?" I murmur, "Only all the time, Ryan" He kisses me again, mumbling, "Good," and we get in the car with me thinking Ryan's got a guilty conscience because of this butchered haircut. We're silent as Ryan's driving onto route 114 and I begin feel bad that Ryan feels bad, so I pat his back, saying, "Don't beat yourself up about this fucking haircut, Ryan, I'm over it already." He blows air out through his lips making a breezy sound, "Thanks, Dylan, That makes me feel better. I wanted to make a bold statement to you that I'm committed to being in charge. That's a big responsibility." I try not to laugh, saying, "It's a big responsibility huh?" He glances over at me, "Well yeah! You want to mature a little while learning to accept that you can't always get what you want ." I go, "Yeah, but sometimes I get what I need, huh?" He says, "You're making fun of it with the Rolling Stones song, but I'm taking this seriously."
Oh fuck, I'm so ready to go home. I'm a little weary of everything here: the bantering with Ryan, the haircut, the whole final exam bullshit, everything actually. And I don't know how I'm going to go through the ten weeks this summer without my brother, Robby, mom, and my friends in Framingham. I'd like to see some of the posse boys too even though there no longer a posse. Ray I can do without but some of the other guys are pretty fucking cool. Yeah, but I'm also intrigued with the idea of Georgia... more as an adventure than anything else. It's something I've obviously never experienced before. Ya know, living away from the safety of my home and family and friends. I sincerely do feel it'll be beneficial for me to do something like that, so I guess I should think more positively about it. It's no longer a matter of if I'm going to go or not anyway. The summer plans are basically settled and everyone's on board with it, plus how the fuck could I tell Ryan I've changed my mind. I don't do things like that to friends. Ryan's counting on me and I'm not going to hurt him by bagging the whole deal. Fuck that! Ryan parks at the apartment and we sit here with the car idling a few second before Ryan asks, "Would you like me to come in with you and keep you company until Rob gets here?" I say, "Sure, I assumed you would." He smiles as he turns off the car, happily saying, "You'll forgive me if I sometimes can't believe you feel about me the way you do. It's new to me, heh heh. Oh man, that sounded so geeky, didn't it?" We get out with me chuckling, "Yeah, a little geeky, Ryan, no problem though." He puts his arms around me, grinning while saying, "Don't be making fun of me, I'm in charge you know." As we're walking towards the back entrance I reach down and hold his hand, asking jokingly, "Hey, aren't you supposed to hold my hand, you being in charge and all?," and he goes, "You like me being in charge, I know you do, and it's like the best thing that's ever happened to me." I mutter, "Oh please, a slight exaggeration on your part." Still holding my hand as we go inside, he says, "Actually it's not an exaggeration, "and he said that in a very serious manner. I again wonder, 'What were his first eighteen years like before meeting me and Robby?' I'm also thinking that Ryan has these little periods where he acts anything but dominant. It's like he lets his insecurity and inferiority complex of old peek out once in awhile. I guess we're all complex.
In the apartment he lets go of my hand as I walk around the place, saying, "Ya know what, I'm going to miss this apartment when the semester's over," and Ryan says, "I hope you like my house even better than this apartment," but again he said that without conviction. We get Cokes and drink them on the balcony while smoking a cigarette. It's only my second cigarette since my concussion. We talk about what I should bring with me to Georgia. All the normal clothes like shorts, t-shirts, swimsuit because it'll be warm there. I'll bring my PC of course, and then Ryan goes, "You'll need jeans or cargo pants and pull-over shirts like Polo or something for wearing to work. There's a 'no shorts' policy at the plant, and you have a suit, right?" I go, "Yeah, I have a suit, just one though. Why do I need a suit anyway?" He shrugs, then says, "Only one, huh? Dad will want us guys wearing a suit to church and I guess we can get your's dry-cleaned every couple of weeks. We'll wear clean casual clothes to church school on Wednesday nights, not suits." He sees me opening my eyes real wide and he quickly goes, "Not every Wednesday, not even close to every Wednesday. I'm being totally up front and honest with you, Dylan, so there won't be any surprises. Church school's only an hour anyway." Then he's telling me how great it'll be working with me. He purposely doesn't say it like it will actually be, which is I'll be working for him and not with him per se. There's a difference, for instance last summer I wasn't working with Robby. I was working with Chubby and Seth and the other guys. I was working for Robby. Big difference actually. I rarely had lunch with Robby and usually only spoke to him a few times a day during working hours.
Ryan talks-up the weekend trips we'll take, building them up as a great time, especially the one to Disney World. By the time Robby shows up I'm again feeling fairly positive about the summer. Robby joins us on the balcony all smiles, then he goes, "That rocked! Ending the season with a win is awesome! Can't wait until next season." Ryan and I tell him, "Great game, Rob!" and he excitedly, says, "Thanks. Yeah, and the word is we're getting some good freshman on the team next year. Scholarship quality freshmen, who are only going to Merrimack without a scholarship because their fathers or mothers went here." He's excitement turns to shock, "Hey, turn around, Dylan," obviously just noticing my haircut. "Did the clippers slip in your hand, Ryan? This is a terrible fucking haircut you gave my boyfriend." Robby's pissed as Ryan whines, "I got carried away, Rob." Robby's making a face shaking his head, mumbling, "You sure did," but that's all that's said about it. I'm thinking that Ryan immediately became contrite when Robby yelled at him. Huh, his confident manner might be a thin veneer over his true nature. Or am I overanalyzing this too?
Robby and I already had the few things packed we're taking home with us so we grab them and leave the apartment. Ryan takes my satchel and carries it down the steps for me. At the back door Robby and I give Ryan a quick kiss 'goodbye'. The kiss 'hello' and 'goodbye' is a leftover habit Robby instilled in us last year when he was the boss of Ryan and me. I'm confused by Ryan's overzealous, too long hug when we kissed goodbye. When Robby and I get in the pickup Ryan has this dejected expression on his face, looking totally lost. I give him a big smile and wave as Robby drives the pickup out of the parking lot, beginning the hour drive home.
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are under ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book coming soon. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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