But I ain't no madman.

[whitetwoguns]

"Sorry I missed your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a nice day."

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[whitetwoguns]

Bullshit.

[Even when he shakes his head those stubborn curls won't quit.]

I think I better get off.

[Meaning that he doesn't want to. Just how things are. Shit. He sighs and is really working up the effort.]

One. Two.

[Easing up slowly, slowly. It's not a quiet feat.]

[orangetoughguy]

And a cryin' shame about it.

[Aw hell this is the part where Freddy has to brace himself. The second that tightness starts pulling upward off his cock he can't help but moan. And the moaning really sounds no different from when the man's ass is sinking down on him. Just how things are. Goddamn.]

Fuck... [Freckled hands start rubbing slow circles over the top of Larry's ass.] So...can they stay?

[whitetwoguns]

Tell me about it.

[That's a flat strained tone of voice. Boy he can feel how how empty it is, kinda like a new tunnel. Breathe, Dimick.]

...they?

[Resting now up on his lap he's looking down into his freckled face. That's two hands on him.]

Y'mean these?

[Weight on his knees he reaches back to put one paw on each hand.]

[orangetoughguy]

Sweet.

[Freddy remarks, fingers twisting with fingers, paw in paw. Then the kid smiles.]

I meant the cowboys.

[Hehehe. He leans up to kiss that old face though, all joking aside.]

[whitetwoguns]

Is that even a real question?

[Because he won't even dignify that with an answer. Jesus fucking Christ. Remember who you're talking to Freddy Newendyke. The movie is still going. As he is swapping saliva with one hell of an art collector, the old man privately congratulates himself with riding up top.]