DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME
Chapter 10
By Donny Mumford
When we're back at the condo we go to my bedroom, with Frankie telling me, "Time to get completely naked." Not being shy about getting naked, I mutter, "Sure," and with a mischievous grin Frankie adds, "Believe it or not I'm horny as a toad again." Then he smacks my ass, adding, "I probably should be rougher with you or you'll get bored with me." I mumble, "Don't get ahead of yourself, Sport," and he's like, "I was wondering about something.
It's like this: Larry told Louis you were uber submissive to him and doing what you were told. How come you're not submissive to me?" Before I can say anything, he quickly adds, "And that's not a complaint, Dylan. I have no complaints. This has been my best sexual experience ever. I'm just curious about the submissive thing." Huh, guess he didn't recognize the two or three little submissive trances I slipped into earlier. Like now! He's doing the undressing routine on me again. He holds the bottom of my T-shirt, saying, "Get your arms up." I lift my arms and he takes my shirt off, then starts unbuttoning my cargo shorts, saying, "How 'bout that question, Dylan? Why were you submissive to my cousin, but not with me?" Kneeling, he's pulling my underpants down, looking up at me, saying, "Step out of your shorts." Frankie's not shy, I'll give him that. By taking my clothes off before he undresses himself he could be acting deferential to me by undressing me like a man servant, or maybe he's being dominant, or even arrogant, or maybe he just doesn't know any better. I'm going with the last 'maybe'.
Then he does something most guys would consider way over the top. While standing up he takes hold of my flaccid cock and pulls on it leading me over to the stool. Still holding my cock he grins, saying, "You're not going to answer my question, are you?" Ignoring that, I ask, "Do you ever kiss before sex?" He makes a face, saying, "Noooo, do you?" Then again, before I can answer, he butts in, "Oh yeah, that's right. I remember Larry telling Louis you loved making-out with him. I'm sorry, but that sounds gross to me." I push at the hand holding my dick, but he grins and holds on tighter, as I say, "I've already told you Larry's a lying mother-fucker. He kissed me, I did not kiss back!" Frankie nods his head, "I believe you because he's still a lying mother-fucker. Do you want to kiss me, is that it?" Pushing at his hand again, I mumble, "Let go of my dick and I'll answer your questions." He shrugs, dropping my cock that was beginning to feel good in his hand.
Rubbing his shorn head, I go, "No, Frankie, I don't want to kiss you, and yes, sometimes when 'bottoming' I feel a submissive sense during sex." He says, "But not with me, right?" I mumble, "That's not entirely true. And now it's your turn to get undressed." Smirking, he pulls his shirt over his head and changes the subject, asking, "Have you ever docked cocks?" I'm like, "Cock docking? Ya know I did do that once, but I can't remember with who." Frankie's pulling his shorts down, saying, "Jesus, Dylan! Have you had so many sex partners you can't remember who you docked with?" Making a face at him, "Don't be absurd, Frankie. I haven't had that many sex partners. How could I? Robby and me have been boyfriends for over three years." He chuckles, then absently takes my cock in his hand again, this time squeezing my nuts with his other hand as he says, "Well, heh heh, you're having sex with me and we've only known each other two days, so going with your boyfriend for three years apparently doesn't mean shit. Does he know you cheat on him?" I wave my hand dismissively, "None of your fuckin' business. And what about you? You say you've only been with two sex partners, and that's bull shit! You're way more experience than you pretend. I mean, for one thing, cock docking is a fairly obscure sex act." He's squeezes my dick and my nuts, saying, "No it isn't. Me and Toby Cornhiser did it when we were thirteen.
Did it a lot, but except for that and jerking each other off, that's all we did." We're both naked standing next to the barber stool that's on its side. He lets go of my nuts and strokes my cock, "Well, what are you waiting for, Dylan? Pick up my cock and stroke it. We need to get semi-hard because docking works better that way." I take his cock in hand, a cock that looks very much like mine except he's been circumcised. I go, "Be honest for once, Frankie. How much sex are you getting?" He chuckles, "None of your fucking business, as you said to me a minute ago." Staring at him with my eyebrows raised, he laughs, "Okay, I'll admit I'm getting a little more than I may have alluded to earlier. I'd forgotten a few experiences from high school, and anyway I was describing my recent sex life, like this summer so far. And why do you care anyway?" His cock feels good in my hand and I like standing this close to him, face to face. He has pretty eyes. I also like looking at his quarter-inch buzzed head and remembering how my dick felt when I was running the clippers through his long hair. I go, "Ya know, you look so different with this short buzz cut, but that's to be expected. What I didn't expect is you getting nastier the more we get to know each other. What's up with that?" He strokes my cock tightly a few times, then says, "I'm not nasty! It's just that I'm being more aggressive with you hoping to see a little submissiveness. Hearing how submissive you were with Carl was the sexiest part of eavesdropping on his phone conversations. I told you earlier I got boners listening to him describe what he made you do. I fantasized about that many a night in my junior year while whacking off." Our cocks are fairly firm now, so Frankie lines up our pee slits and pulls my foreskin over the head of his cock, then closes his fist at the docking point. I go, "Mmmm, fuuuuuck, that's hot." Our conversation peters-out as he strokes from the root of my cock to the root of his. It's gets hypnotic watching his hand slide from my cock, over the docking area, and along his cock until the side of his fist is partially buried in his pubic hairs, then his fist comes back towards me again. The third time he does it my cock sizzles with sexual sensations and my hands go to his shoulders as I go up on my toes, "Aaaah, jezzzus, oooh." Acting pleased with himself, he says, "I'll bet you shoot off before I do," and he does three quick long strokes back and forth on our docked boners.
My hands grip his shoulders tighter as I go up on my toes again leaning my head forward, "Oooh, oooh," then suck on my lips. Now he does slow steady stroking, stroking, stroking; both of us grunting as sensations from our cocks grow stronger and stronger. My eyes stare at his fist as it travels along our docked, very hard boners. The big dorsal vein in both boners are visibly blue and protruding now that our cocks are flooded and almost overflowing with erectile fluids. Stroking, stroking, stroking as Frankie and me grunt, moan, and gasp. Our foreheads are touching now as we both stare down at his moving fist. We share mutual arousal and quietly groan and moan as sexual arousal deepens, his fist is moving as rhythmically as a metronome.
Our foreheads and noses slide together, face against face, then our lips touch and his tongue goes in my mouth. Oooh, the stroking, stroking, stroking of his warm smooth tight fist back and forth on its relentless orgasm-inducing twelve-inch trip to and fro. It feels incredibly good, mind boggling good, and then too soon the climax train comes roaring up to the station for both of us. Our lips squish together as our bodies gets stiff and I hold my breath with my climax coming, coming, coming. Then it's Frankie who goes, "Ahhhhh," humps his hips and his load of creamy warm slippery cum covers the head of my boner just as my orgasm explodes. There's lots of drooling cum at the docking point that's drip, drip, dripping to the floor. Our cock heads are covered with warm creaminess, and the sexuality of it's so intense my
body shudders and our cocks undock. I grab mine and stroke-out follow-up spurts of cum that fly into Frankie's pubic hairs while his squirts of cum splatters on my belly button and drool down to the back of my hand as I squeeze out the last drops of semen from my nuts. Oh my god, that was one of the strongest climaxes I've ever had.
Gasping, our nuts empty, we lean against one another, then a quick tight hug before separating. "Fuuuck, that was hot, Dylan... oh man, hot flaming balls!" and he bends over with his hands on his knees taking a few deep breaths before gasping, "It's okay to kiss when docking," as his head comes up to look at me, asking, "Did I mention that?" I'm frowning at him in a daze with sensations still flying around my groin, the sticky head of my cock still sizzling with pleasure. Ignoring his silly question, I go, "No fucking way should that be so sexually hot, but it was! Damn that was awesome!" I stroke my cock again as a small twinge of pain shoots around my nuts, probably caused by the force of the cum shooting up and out from those misshaped balls. Frankie stands-up now, putting his arm across my shoulders, asking, "How'd ya like that?" He slides his arm up and gets his hand behind my head, pushing it forward, "C'mon, suck it, Dylan." I gladly bend over and suck his cock into my mouth, doing it the way two-inch-Timmy does it. I like sucking a young guy's dick, so as I stuck his sloppy cock I slowly go down on my knees to do it properly.
Three minutes later his cock, amazingly, is hard again and he smacks the back of my head, "Doggy style, Dylan." When I drop down to my hands and knees he gives my ass a mighty, "SMACK!!" then mounts me, shoving his cock all the way up my ass and fucks me hard for five or six minutes with both of us gasping out moans of sexual pleasure. It's five or six minutes of ecstatic sexual sensations from my over stimulated anus and prostate. "Ooooh," as my back arches, my hips hump and out flies a three inch shot of clear spunk that leaves me trembling, then another and my head drops to my forearms on the floor. Standing behind me he's tight against my ass humping my butt cheeks unloading his small orgasm into my bowels. Frankie pulls out right away, backs up and falls over the stool he knocked over during our earlier oral sex. Laughing, he untangles himself from the stool, yelling, "Stupid fucking stool!" Picking up the stool, he plops his ass on it, asking, "You okay, down there?" I'm still on my knees with my forehead on the back of my hands continuing to savor my second orgasm in a ten minutes span. Slowly lifting my head, and then sitting back on my ass, I go, "Dude, your nuts generate a lot of spunk and your cock bones-up fast after you've climaxed!" He goes, "Whaddaya mean?" Standing unsteadily, I say, "You've got the staying power of a much younger dude, is all I'm saying. You sure you're not fourteen or fifteen?" He goes, "Bull shit. You climaxed every time I did, and I already told you that tonight's the best fuckin' sex I've ever had, and twice as much as I've ever had in one night." He's wrong of course because the first time he shot his load up my ass it happened before I climaxed so he's one climax up on me. Still it's been good buddy sex. I'm walking into the half bath talking over my shoulder, "You've got a talent for sex, Frankie boy." He joins me in the bathroom, and as I wash my ass he washes his dick, hands, and face, in that order, then says, "You bring out the best in me. I'm totally spent now though. My nuts are empty." We walk back to the basement, get dressed, then go upstairs and out on the balcony.
We're lighting cigarettes as Frankie asks, "Well, what do you think, Dylan? Was our buddy sex hot enough for ya? Do you want to hook-up with me again sometime?" Huh, that's good question. With the back of my hand to my nose I'm thinking that the climaxes tonight were good, the cock-dock climax was awesome, but there's something hindering my appreciation of our sex. I finally say, "Yeah, you're hot, Frankie. The thing is, I can't believe you're not getting plenty of sex already. You sure seem experienced and I can't figure out why you'd lie about it." He holds his hands out to his sides like he's exasperated, yelling, "I'm not lying! How many times do I gotta tell you that?" Then calmer, he adds, "Or maybe we need to define what, 'plenty of sex', means." I shrug, "No, it's alright, you don't need to explain yourself to me. That was my bad. Buddy sex doesn't need to be explained. I shouldn't care how much sex you're getting." And I probably wouldn't care if he wasn't the cousin of fat Carl and he hadn't overheard whatever it is he overheard. Maybe it's not that's there's 'something' preventing me from fully enjoying sex with Frankie, maybe it's just me thinking that Frankie knows more about me than he should. I mean, I'm different now then I was with Carl.
Yeah, but to what degree? Fact is, by now I can't remember a lot of specifics from back then, that is except for a couple of especially unpleasant incidents that stand out. Mostly it's an overall sense of how horrible Carl was as a person. I need to get over that because Frankie's not remotely like his cousin.
Smoke drifting from his nose and mouth, Frankie goes, "Well, just so you know, I think you're a spectacular buddy sex partner, and thank you for tonight. And for the haircut too." I say, "You're welcome for the haircut but you flatter me more than I deserve in the other category." Then I need to be honest about it, adding, "It was a sexually satisfying night for me too, Frankie, so I return your compliment." He exhales more cigarette smoke as he's saying, "Thanks, but I sense you have some hesitancy about us hooking-up again." Shrugging, I mumble, "Um, I don't know. It's like I'm having a hard time getting past the oddness of you being Carl's cousin. It's kind of freaky knowing you heard all that shit he told Louis. And I know I really shouldn't associate what happened between Carl and me, with you and me. It's just that you might have some wrong ideas about me. I guess that's the bottom line." He goes, "Look, I'll be twenty years old next month, I can form my own opinions without relying on what I heard that asshole say about you three years ago. Back then hearing him describe how he totally dominated you was titillating for me as a novice seventeen year old, but that has almost nothing to do with the here and now. Forget I ever mentioned it, will ya?" I mumble, "Yeah, you're right," and he adds, "I'm hoping we can hook up again sometime, that's my bottom line." I go, "Yeah, we should, I'm over-thinking this. I tend to do that with everything." He grins, "So?" and I say, "So, we'll hook up again sometime. You'll be getting haircuts, and you're hard to resist, right?" He chuckles, "Well, it appears a lot of guys have had no problem resisting me so far." I do a little laugh, and he goes, "Actually, I hardly know any gay guys, that's my main problem. I figure next year I'll try the gay bar scene." I go, "Good plan." I won't be following that plan myself though. I mean, assuming things keep falling into my lap like Frankie boy here, why would I need gay bars? We talk about our high school experiences for a while. Frankie was in the band as a clarinet player and I tease him claiming clarinet players are all gay. He tells me flattering things about articles I wrote for the school paper and goes into more details about his stalking me when he was a junior.
We get Cokes and talk about our sexual activities tonight. I rub his buzzed head a few times and every time I do it he rubs my head too, and it's a good relaxed time with some laughs. He has a cute grin and sexy lips. That kiss we had while docking cocks was hot! It's getting close to nine o'clock when I say, "You should really experience more kissing with your sex.
Kissing another guy is extremely intimate and sexy." He leans his head over and brushes his lips across mine, murmuring, "I kissed you when we were docking cocks." Standing right in front of me with our noses almost touching he pulls the zipper of my cargo shorts down. His fingers go inside my fly as he says, "Get my cock out, we're docking again," and I actually gasp. He said that so sexy-like. Staring into his eyes I unzip his fly and use two fingers to pull his cock out.
Frankie rubs his nose against mine, than murmurs, "Bend over and suck my cock." When I do that my flaccid cock hangs down from my fly dangling in the night's warm breeze reminding me we're outside on the balcony. So what? I take his cock in my mouth, my nose close to his fly with his stale body odor now seeming kinda sexy to me. I suck his cock until it's again firm and he says, "That's good," and his hand cups my chin pulling my head up. He bends over and sucks my cock that's already firm from me sucking his. Frankie straightens up now, grinning at me as he takes my cock, lines up our pee slits, then slides my foreskin over the head of his cock like earlier. I'm holding my breath, very aroused for the fourth or fifth time tonight. He strokes with his fist one, two, three times and my cock gets very hard. His other hand reaches behind my head pulling it to his and he gives me a very sexy wet kiss with his tongue moving on mine. Oh fuck! It's so hot! His fist keeps stroking, stroking, stoking as his tongue slides on mine with me closing my eyes, once more moaning with sexual pleasure. My arms go around the back of his neck as sensations sizzle at the head of my cock. He continues stroking, stroking, stroking, his fist just the right tightness to slide sexily over our docked cocks creating sensations that are unique. It plays with my mind knowing our pee slits are looking at each other and touching.
I've totally lost track of time as I hug around his head keeping our faces squished together and the sensations from my pulsing boner and the sexy way Frankie's kissing me makes me dizzy with sexual pleasure, a dreamy pleasure until I gasp into his mouth, the sides of our faces sliding together as we're both doing little humping with our hips and finally, "Ahhh, oooh," from both of us as little spurts of cum shoot from both our cock at the same time. The head of my cock is so fucking sensitive by now, and I guess Frankie's is too because he takes his hand away and we hug each other breathing hard into each other's ears. Gasping and humping against each other we're both shaking for a few seconds before doing a tight hug and letting go.
After a deep breath, I mumble, "I thought you said you were spent." He shakes his head, "That was forty-five minutes ago," then he laughs, "This is fucking insane, Dylan." I mutter, "Just a little, yeah." He chuckles, "My fucking dick is so sore." I go, "Mine too," and we laugh, but we're still facing each other with our nose almost touching as we're looking into each other's eyes. He says, "Kissing was okay. You're right about that. Um, with you anyhow," and we kiss with his hand going to the side of my face. It's kind of a sweet kiss as opposed to a hot arousing one.
Pulling our heads away a little bit, I murmur, "You taste good," and he starts to say something but one of our cellphones' buzzing interrupts. That breaks the mood and we step apart, both taking our cellphones out. Frankie mutters, "It's a telemarketing 800 number." Glancing at him, we both divert our eyes maybe feeling we overdid it. I mean, we're not nearly tight enough to be having all this sex together, and that last sweet kiss was puzzling.
Lighting two cigarettes I pass one to Frankie, saying, "You're what's known as a 'hottie', Frankie." Like he can't believe I'd say that, he goes, "ME? It's you!! Jesus, you've got me making out now. I never kissed a guy before." We start joking around blaming each other for our over-the-top sex-a-thon tonight. It's so weird too because I was thinking something's missing and yet I can't remember too many times having four and almost a fifth orgasm in such a short period of time. Plus, I was exhausted just four hours ago. It's almost nine thirty now and just when I'm about to ask where Frankie's friend is, his cellphone rings again.
Frankie answers with, "Dude, wassup?" then he listens. Looking at me, he mumbles, "its Andy. He says he's parked at the curb below some condos on a hill above him, but he's not sure it's your place." I go, "Sure sounds like it. Let's look out the front window and see if he's at the curb." We both flick our cigarette butts, mine sailing nicely over the railing, but Frankie's hits the railing with a smattering of red sparkles from the lit end. He says, "Shit!" and I go, "What a spazz!" He kicks it off the balcony floor muttering, "Sorry," with me grinning to myself. Walking through the house Frankie says, "My dick is so fucking sore it hurts when I walk." I look out the front window and see a car idling at the curb. "Does Andy drive a green Volkswagen?" He says, "That's him," and we do the one arm hug routine with pats on each other's backs. That's a far cry from our embracing during the second cock-docking fifteen minutes ago. "Thanks, Dylan, it's been super real. I'll text you." I see him to the door, "Great getting to know you, Frankie, and you look good with that buzz cut." He yells back over his shoulder, "I know, thanks again!" I watch him go down the steps thinking to myself, his widow's peek screws up the look of his buzz cut. Closing the door I flop down on the sofa trying to sort out how I feel about tonight's sexual activities. It wasn't a BAM! situation for me, although it was building towards something. No shot over the moon except for the cock-docking, and maybe that's because that was new. Frankie fucks pretty hot though, and he's basically a good guy. If only his last name wasn't 'Denton'. That's not fair of me of course, but it's just that Frankie's hard to pigeonhole. He's not really cute per se, although I kinda like his looks and his slim body. Ah ha, he didn't have a noticeable sexy scent though! That might be it. Yeah, but he needs a shower smelling sort of stale. My olfactory glands work overtime evaluating a guy's sexual desirability. His missing scent could be what's lacking. But next time he might be fresh, recently bathed and then have a sexy scent too. Who the fuck knows? I'm thinking it'll probably be like a Sonny or Bean thing, meaning after a haircut we'll mess around, but no regular hook up. That'll probably be all it amounts to between Frankie and me. Damn, that docking was hot though. If he texts me I might hook up with him. Why not? In fact I hope he does text because he seemed to be getting sexier and more desirable the more we did it.
Getting off the couch, I go into my bedroom to lie on top of the covers intending to watch the last three innings of the Red Sox game, and then take a shower. Next thing I know I'm waking up with my clothes on, the Red Sox game was over long ago, and outside its pitch black. I fell asleep, and I'm still tired. Taking off everything but my boxer shorts I turn off the lights and the TV, get under the covers and go back to sleep thinking Frankie was maybe hotter than I'm giving him credit for.
The alarm goes off Tuesday morning and I leap out of bed to take a quick shower, checking to see if my dick's okay as I'm walking to the bathroom. It was tender last night but it seems fine now. When I don't take a shower the night before it makes for a hectic morning, but I manage. Ready for work I go into the kitchen where Chubby's waiting with my take-out coffee ready to go. We do a hug as Chubby's saying, "We're a little short on time this morning so we'll have our cigarette after changing at work, okay?" I nod, and as we go out the door I tell him about me falling asleep watching the Red Sox game, and he says, "Yeah, a lot of that's going around lately. The Red Sox put you to sleep because they can't hit, especially with men or base.
They can't hit for shit." We talk about the Red Sox all the way to work.
After parking, I take the lunch Chubby made for us and put it in the correct cooler. When I turn around there's Matt, grinning and saying, "Good! You remembered." We bump fists and walk to the locker room together talking about yesterday, with Matt saying, "I thought you did very well for your first day, Dylan. If I could mention one thing though, it's your attitude. I'd ask you to try showing less attitude towards me and have generally speaking a more positive attitude over all. Okay? That's my major concern with you.
Your attitude." I force a laugh, mumbling, "I don't know why you think I'm giving you 'attitude', or that I'm negative. If I am, it's totally unintentional. Everyone says I have a good attitude." He pats my shoulder, "Okay, it's probably me misinterpreting some of your expressions when I'm giving you corrective criticism. I'm on your side, buddy," and another pat on my shoulder as we go inside the locker room with him going one way and me the other.
As I'm changing into the company t-shirt and shorts, I tell Chubby, "Your buddy, Matt, thinks I'm giving him attitude and I'm negative" Chubby frowns, "Really? Maybe he was kidding around," I go, "Nope, he's serious," and Chubby mumbles, "He takes things too seriously sometimes," then, more upbeat he adds, "He told me he really likes you." I shrug and leave it at that, but either Matt's too sensitive or he's intentionally misrepresenting my demeanor on the job. He has to know Robby and I are boyfriends because everyone else knows. Maybe he's a secret homophobe. In any case I'm not worried about what the boss thinks. I'm pretty sure Robby knows I'm a team player and a hard worker even if Matt doesn't see it that way.
Tuesday plays out pretty much like Monday, except Matt and I work with the walk-behind mower all day. He doesn't like the diagonal pattern I create on the lawns with the mower, so I do it his way and the rest of the day he's scrambling to find something he can constructively criticize me about.
After work Robby will be finishing-up the appraisal with his dad. Something about heavy earth moving equipment needed for the spring project. During the ride home Chubby invites me to join him and Matt after dinner watching summer league basketball games. I beg-off for two reasons: one, I don't want to socialize with Matt, although I probably should, and two, Ray might be playing summer basketball and I don't want to see him. What I tell Chubby is I need a night to chill out and do nothing. It's been a hectic five days since getting off the plane from Georgia. The truth is I've never caught up on the missing sleep from last Thursday night, then again Sunday night with Robby and me in my bed until after two o'clock in the morning. Hey, maybe Matt is misinterpreting me being tired as a bad attitude. I haven't been real jolly either day at work.
Chubby and I make dinner together in his condo. Barbecue half chicken each, with French fries and corn on the cob. Then after dinner he takes off to pick up Matt and I go to my place to chill out. As much as I'd like to chill out tonight, Bean texts ten minutes after I flop down on my sofa. He wants a haircut and I sigh, shaking my head, but text back that he can come over now if he wants. I set up the barber stuff in the basement, then as I'm going up the steps the doorbell rings. It's Bean and he gives me the full posse boy greeting with a little something extra in the hug. What the hell, it feels nice when someone's glad to see me. We do the usual exchange of 'how ya doing?' but while I'm doing his shampoo Bean being unusually quiet, especially for him. Then I find out why. The doorbell rings just as we're walking out of the half bath. I look at Bean, like who could that be? He has a guilty look on his face, saying, "Um, that might be Ray." I'm like, "What? Why would you say that?" He whines, "You two need to get back together again so Sonny and me convinced Ray to come for a haircut." I'm so pissed, "Bean, I'm really fucking disappointed in you! I have zero interest in seeing Ray!" He whines some more, "Yeah, but Sonny said..." I go, "I don't give a fuck what Sonny said." Bean's frowning, mumbling, "I knew it was a stupid idea! Now you and I can't do what comes after the haircut." Shaking my head, furious at Sonny mostly. I snap at Bean, "You stay here," then stump upstairs to open the front door. It's Ray alright.
He stands there with a smug grin on his face, then says, "Hi, Dylan. Um, Sonny said you wanted to try reconciling with me. So I figured I'd be big about it and come to you. Some of the guys have mentioned that you and me were good together and last summer was a lot of fun. So, you know what? I thought about it, and to my surprise I agree with them, so you're forgiven," and he holds out his hand, which I ignore, asking, "Forgiven for what?" He says, "Well, for fuck sake, invite me in." I ask again, "What do you think you're forgiving me for, Ray?" He says, "For telling the guys you were just about to dump me after I dumped you. That's a lie and you know it! I saw how hurt you were when I told you the bad news." I'm calmly shaking my head, saying in a monotone, "It's not a lie, Ray, I was gonna dump you, but I don't really give a fuck if you believe me or not, and I don't need or want your forgiveness about any fuckin' thing your twisted brain can come up with." He goes, "Okay! Yeah, I shouldn't have used the word 'forgive'. I forgot how sensitive you can be. Let's just say we're starting fresh and forgetting negatives so you can concentrate on the positives of being my boyfriend again." I'm dumbfounded! This idiot's brain definitely doesn't function properly.
He smiles thinking he just made some kind of magnanimous gesture. Ray's mind works in funny ways, and he has such a high opinion of himself reality is often ignored by him. I'm looking at him with a blank stare, so he finally says, "You're still okay with giving me a haircut, aren't you?" Taking a deep breath, I go, "Sure, c'mon in, but just for a haircut." He does the posse boy greeting like Bean did, adding a kiss on my cheek as I'm backing away from him. Ray can't allow himself to be rebuffed, so in his mind we just had a cordial hug with a shared kiss. It'd be funny if it wasn't so absurd, and he wasn't such a dick. Okay, I'm being a bit of an asshole myself though, so I pat his shoulder as we go downstairs, asking him, "How ya been, Ray?" He's very upbeat, "Good, Dylan! I lost my girlfriend though. She's fucking one of my posse boys now." That's crude, but then Ray's always had a way with words. I say, "You mean ex-posse boys," and he goes, "You guys will always be my posse boys at heart." Oh brother! Get a fucking clue, Ray! Bean is very cordial with Ray as they do a for-real one arm hug and hand shake. Bean goes, "Did you two make-up finally." Ray says, "Dylan and me, we're good, Bean. Aren't we, Dylan?" I say, "Yeah, sure," and Bean goes, "You guys can thank Sonny for getting you back together again." I roll my eyes and ask him how he wants his hair cut." Ray butts in, "Get a burr haircut, Bean. The one we were rocking last summer." Bean asks, "You mean like Dylan's?" and Ray's like, "Yeah!" and then like he just noticed my hair, he asks, "Hey, Dylan, did you get that haircut to please me?" I unconsciously rub my head, snorting at Ray's ridiculous premise. It was Ryan who insisting I get his specialty haircut one day before I flew home. Bean looks at me and frowns, mumbling, "Yeah, I notice Dylan's hair is even shorter than last summer, I think." and Ray goes, "That's the haircut I'm getting. You know, in memory of last summer." Bean's not at all sure about that. He asks, "Really, Ray? That's what you're getting?" Ray plops himself down on the chaise lounge, "Yep, Dylan's really good at doing a tight burr haircut." Tired of Ray already, I ask, "What's it gonna be, Bean?" He shrugs, "Um, I guess what Ray said." Jesus! Bean's such a tool! The haircut Ryan did for me last Thursday is not like the burr haircuts of last summer. Mine is very much like the newest goofy hair style you see appearing on celebs and pro athletes. But since Bean agreed with Ray, I duplicate Ryan's specialty haircut on Bean's head doing everything the way Ryan does it. The clippers go all the way up the sides and back, then on the top back portion of Bean's head. Cut hairs are flying all around us with Bean hunching his shoulders and frowning in between giving Ray dirty looks. When I turn the clippers off Bean probably thinks that's as short as it goes and his haircut is done, but it's not. I use the trimmer clippers to shave half way up the sides and back of his head. Then my technique for blending the eighth inch hairs with the shaved area isn't as flawless as Ryan's technique, but it's better than I did with Sonny's haircut yesterday. When I'm finished Bean takes his frowning up a notch feeling his head looking like he can't believe how little hair he has left. He goes into the half bath to look at himself in the mirror over the sink. Ray sits on the stool, sans shirt, and quietly says, "Um, not that short for me, Dylan. Jesus!" Bean comes back still rubbing his head, complaining, "I'm fucking scalped!" Then he emphatically says to Ray, "You better get the same haircut that Dylan and I have. You're the one who talked me into it." I'm enjoying the shit out of this! Sonny loved his haircut, but Bean definitely does not, and those two are responsible for Ray being here. My revenge on Bean is sweet.
Ray says, "Oh, sure, Bean," then to me, "Same as Beans for me too." Fucking Ryan started this ridiculously short haircut without even being aware it's the latest thing for some misguided individuals. Actually it's no longer the latest style because this year it gets even more bizarre with the newest style being shaved all around the sides and back, while leaving the hair on top very long so it hangs over the shaved areas. I think it looks hideous! I'm going to Google that haircut and see if it says who first started it.
As I run the clippers all the way up the side of Ray's head, Bean mutters that he's leaving now, but he'll see Ray and me at Richardson's ice cream and sport complex. Well, he might see Ray there but he won't be seeing me. I have no intentions of leaving the condo tonight. Ray coming over tonight spoiled what I expected would be a weird, but kinda hot suck and fuck with Bean, and I'm mildly pissed-off about that too.
When I finish it, Ray's haircut is a duplicate of Bean's and I enjoyed doing it. His reaction is much like Beans at first, but then he tries to be cool about it. "Wow, heh heh, this is really short, isn't it?" I'm sweeping up a pile of hair, saying, "Yes it is, Ray. I'd be hard pressed to cut it shorter unless I shaved your head." He nods, still rubbing his fingers over his head. As I'm dumping the cut hair in the trash, feeling maybe a little guilty for giving them such severe haircuts, Ray squeezes my shoulder, saying, "Hair grows back, so no big deal. Um, anyway I'm looking forward to making our reconciliation official, Dylan. I haven't forgotten that pussy of yours." I say, "Whaddaya talking about now, Ray?" He smirks and grabs his crotch, I go, "Oh, please! Tell me you're not expecting me to do anything of a sexual nature with you." He looks surprised, then smoothly says, "Yeah, I did think that, Dylan. I was under the impression that's why you're so eager to get back together." Can I believe I'm actually feeling sorry for him? How clueless can one person be? Instead of being a smart ass about it, I try for 'nice'. "Ray, it was Sonny's and Bean's well intentioned, although misguided effort to get us together again even though I specifically told Sonny I wasn't the least bit interested in doing that. You and I had our fling last summer and you're, um, an okay guy and all that, but I have no interest in being your boyfriend or having buddy sex with you. I'm sorry, but there's no way we're doing anything sexual." He goes, "You sure had the hots for me last summer, and I think you still do but you're submerging those feelings." Oh fuck! I say, "And why would I submerge my feelings, Ray?" He shrugs, "You're temperamental, a diva of sorts." I shake my head because there's no reasoning with Ray. I say, "Good night, Ray," and he goes, "C'mon, I'll let you suck my cock and then I'll give that pussy of your's a hard fucking for old times sake, if nothing else. Let yourself go and see if my big cock doesn't start a sp ark of heat in you again." He unsnaps his shorts, saying, "Start by sucking the big knob on the head of my eight inch cock. That'll get your juices flowing." Being nice doesn't seem to be getting through to Ray, so I yell, "NO! Goddammit! Get it through your head I don't want any of it, not with you! Sorry to be so direct." He gets that mean look in his eyes, "Oh, now you're thinking you're too good for me again. You weren't too good for me last summer, were you?" Maybe staying calm is the best approach. "Look Ray, last summer I was sort of on the rebound. My hot dominant sex buddy moved away and for a while I allowed my confused self to get infatuated by you, but I got over it pretty quickly. I went along with you for a while so I wouldn't hurt your feelings. Now you need to get over it too." He goes, "Don't flatter yourself, Dylan, I dumped you, remember? I was so 'over you' it wasn't even funny." I say, "Okay then, good! And I'm glad you like your haircut, but now I've got to ask you to leave because there's things I need to do. Nice seeing you again, and come over anytime you want me to redo that same haircut for you." He says, "This haircut eats shit," and I go, "Ya know, I agree with you, which is why I'm not getting another haircut like this unless I join the Navy Seals." He looks shocked, "You're joining the Navy Seals?" I go, "No, not in this life time, I'm not." He goes, "But you said..." He doesn't get sarcasm apparently. I mumble, "That's another way of saying I'm never getting this haircut again, ever!" Ray's putting his shirt on, then groping his junk again, saying, "Last chance, Dylan." I mutter, "And I'll be passing on my last chance. Let me walk you to the door." He holds his ground, "Oh, so I need to ask nicely, is that it." Shaking my head again, I quietly say, "No, Ray, it wouldn't matter how you asked me. I simply don't want to have sex with you." Ray's looking mean again, "I could fuck you if I felt like it and it wouldn't matter if you wanted to or not." I say, "No you couldn't, Ray. Anyway, we're getting too old for fighting so we'll never know what you could or couldn't do in that regard. I'm flattered you want to have sex with me, but I must say no thank you. But, let's not part enemies, that'd be childish." He's nodding his head, "Yeah, okay. It's your loss." and he starts going up the steps. I follow him to the front door, opening it for him, asking, "How come you didn't play summer basketball this year?" He says, "Fuck you, Newman," and stalks down the outdoor steps towards his car. Huh, was it something I said? Closing the door I admit to myself that a farewell fuck from Ray wouldn't be the worst way to spend a random Tuesday night, but then he'd want to do it again the next time, or he'd pull that superior shit of his by implying I've got the hots for him. If not that, he'd go with the petulant refrain that I think I'm too good for the likes of him. I've never acted superior or thought I was better than anyone, although I am better than some lowlifes I've run into on rare occasions. I pity them more than anything. Ray doesn't fall into that category though. Last summer I actually discovered some very good aspects of Ray's personality, but unfortunately they're outnumbered by the negatives ten to one. What an asshole... ha ha, although he'll probably somehow end up being more successful than all of us Framingham boys.
So, I finally do have a partial night of chilling-out. After the haircuts I call for a pizza, then I'm feeling too lazy to even check my text or email messages. Waiting for the pizza delivery I'm laying around thinking about Ryan and my time in Marietta deciding it was a worthwhile endeavor for a number of reasons; all the ones I've thought of before. I miss him and look forward to seeing him again in the fall at Merrimack College. What our relationship will be then is anyone's guess. I have no way of knowing how far Ryan's and Mike's relationship will have developed, if at all. I must admit Ryan's provided me with some of the hottest sex of my life, but it's hard to imagine that level of sexual heat between us will ever be matched again.
In fact the hottest sex we ever had together was that first summer right up until he transferred to Georgia. So, even though we had hot sex this summer it didn't match the sexual heat of the summer before, and I don't think we'll match this summer's sexual heat in the future. That's if we even have sex when back at college. We're spiraling downward whereas Robby and I are still ascending. We're falling more in love every day it seems, and its such sweet fun being in love with him.
I think about the unusual sex-a-thon with Frankie last night and how I kept thinking something's missing. The truth is, side-sex with Ray holds little to no appeal for me, and even sex with Sonny, while good, doesn't compare to the sex he and I were having last summer. My disappointment at missing out on a goofy suck and fuck with Bean was hardly more than a passing thought. Huh, and my sex tonight is zero, a complete reversal from last night.
And I'm perfectly fine with that. My question to myself is: what's happening to you, Dylan? Well, all I know for sure is... I can't wait for tomorrow night with Robby. Then the doorbell rings, so I guess my pizza's here.
to be continued...
thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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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, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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