whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

You always do, toughguy.

[Tighter? He can handle it. In fact feeling the straps press into his skin feels so much better than he thought it would. It's a different sensation than a too tight belt. Even when it comes on loose he feels his skin tighten.

How can he not get hard under this treatment. Ritzy or trash, as long as the kid keeps on doing what he's gonna do.]

Don't hold back any.

[Hissing for the pinch and leaning for more. Woah. It's over too soon. Now he watches as the kid works to fit the ring over him.]

Nicest one I ever had.

[The way it flexes and feels, it was not cheap at all.]

How'd you know it'd fit?

[How'd he know it'd fit...this freckled hand smacks one side of his ass so hard it might leave a print. It will now since he's also curling his fingers to turn that smack into a clutch.]

I took notes.

[Who knows the old man's body better than the kid? Actually don't answer that, he doesn't need to hear about anyone who came before Larry who has just as intricate knowledge. His other hand creeps over to stroke Larry, get him filling the ring space up to test its proper width.]

Feelin' good?

Shit. [Smarts in the best sort of way. The old man reaches back to grip on the kid any way he can, hip or wiry arm.]

Shoulda known.

[Cops take notes, pay attention to details. He clutches back just as hard when Freddy get's stroking.]

Uhuh. [That's one word.]

Guess the movie's out.

[Who needs a fucking movie. Freddy knows his body so well. How to grip his dick and how to pump it.]

[The old man really doesn't need to know to preserve the magnitude of his ego, but the sizing on that cockring is LARGE. As if Larry wasn't already aware of his blessing in that department. Ahem. Larry's paw gripping in return really evokes a groan out of Freddy.]

What would you put on, huh? What would you watch while I'm squeezing my dick in you?

[Now he's hands off his dick just to turn the other man around to face him again. God does he looks fucking good.]

I dunno. I don't care. Wouldn't really be watching.

[Shoulders are about heaving with the way he's breathing heavy so fast. Now he's swelled up to the right size to fill up that cockring. Brave kid going out and picking up a get up like this. He's flattered enough as it is that this was hand picked by Freddy.]

How about we skip to the next part.

[He wants it. Bad.]

[Look at this old man, so fucking willing, waiting, and ready. To think, just days ago Freddy was sitting on his dick, riding it fucking mad and coming all over Larry's stomach. That's the way people see it (those who know or suspect) he bets, that the smaller Mr. Orange is Mr. White's favorite cum dump. If they only knew the truth. Heh.]

The next part is you get on your knees and suck me off. Get it ready.

[He pulls on Larry via the harness towards the living room. Flop. He sits in the special chair, the reclining one, knees parted.] Do it.

[What's to come is worth the wait. Worth waiting more than a few days and worth not even rubbing one out in the meantime. It's a fucking privileged to be Freddy's cum dump.]

Y'got it.

[Harnessed and hauled. Getting on his knees the minute after that freckled ass is pressed into the cushions.]

I was thinking about this all weekend.

[Hands behind him and now he's got to pretty much bury his face and head in Freddy's thighs. His mouth is gaping like a fish taking it all in. At least Freddy's got the TV going.]

Oh yeah? Why?

[Freddy asks before threading his fingers into Larry's hair. He gives his head a slow deliberate push while tilting his own hips up. Sort of a counterproductive gesture, this. Ah well, he doesn't really achingly have to hear an answer from him so soon. Those paws are free to roam as they will but the kid's not exactly making use of them. It's as if right now Freddy thinks all Larry is good for is the pie hole in his face. At the moment, that's very true.]

[No answer. He's busy. And boy does he like having his head pushed further and have those hips tilt up to meet him. There may be some sort of an interpretation of desperation by the wet slurps that escape only now and then.]

Because fuck if I'm gonna be close to naked flesh that ain't yours what's the point?

[A skin flick or a titty show isn't the same thing. He would happily see any with the kid or out and about then go home to make him sit on his cock or bend over for it. Larry pants and tilts his head side ways to curl his tongue under the shaft.]

You make a pretty strong case, I'll give you that.

[The kid concedes with fox-peepers narrowing down at the old man, watching how his lips move around every word, how his tongue curls this way and that. He's an excellent cocksucker, this Lawrence Dimick, the best teacher any cherry gay could ask for. This other hand reaches between his thighs to guide his dick back into Larry's mouth. You like that, Mr. White?]

[He does. He really does. They fuck so often that more than a few dry days gets a man antsy. Even if they're not fucking together they've worked themselves up to a very stable standard of intimacy. With Freddy walking around in Eames' skin it certainly was an exercise in being affectionate without too much touching.

Now he can touch all he wants. And he will with his mouth, lips, tongue and throat. Great to know that skills like cocksucking don't go bad with age. Something like riding a bicycle or...whatever. Brown eyes get to take in how he looks in the old man's chair being the big poss fitting that uncut cock between his lips. His own is hanging and hard. If he could scoot close enough to the chair he could hump it. No. He's fixing to go but not that far gone.]

[Don't even think about humping the chair, Lawrence Dimick, because Freddy hasn't told you you can yet. These freckled fingers still have a grip on his hair too, wouldn't want him to lose any of it just to discipline the old man.]

Shit...think it's wet enough to fuck you...huh?

[Huff and puff. Breathe slow, Newendyke. Sure you can last more rounds but giving in to it so easily undermines your own authority. It'll make Mr. White think he can hump whatever he wants without asking. Fuck that.]

[Thinking's not a crime. Yet. He's thinking it over though.]

Yeah. [Gulping down the excess saliva, some still slicks his chin and lower lip. Larry lifts his head, if the grip on his hair allows. Even though he's not sucking cock any more he's moving his mouth on the inside of Freddy's thigh.]

I sure think it is.

[Even though he's well aware the kid wants to fuck him just as much, the way he's taking on a sort of typical tough, take no shit cop attitude makes him almost think for a moment it's not enough.]

Hard too.

[Leaning closer again he pierces his lips to lightly blow cool air on that now slick cock.]

[Never let them see you sweat, that's his motto. Except Mr. White sees him sweating all the time. Oh well, can't win every time. That cool blow has him shuddering. Freckled fingers loosen up then let go.]

Get the lube.

Okay, baby.

[Boss man. Mr. Orange.

Hands fixed doesn't mean he can't make it happen. The man said fetch. Larry kisses his knee and then works on standing up. They got some gun oil on the table. On a split second decision he decides to take it into his mouth and bring it over. Takes some trial and error.

Don't rush, old man. After all his new get up has him held and hard.

Back he comes now to place it between Freddy's legs. With his mouth.]

[Like a good good dog, a big old dog willing to please. Can they train bears the same way? Seems like. Nonetheless Freddy quirks a brow over Larry's retrieval, like he's trying to assess if Larry wants to impress him or challenge him.]

Turn around, feet shoulder width apart.

[He picks up the gun oil and pops the cap off to squeeze an amount right into his freckled hand.]

[Bears are usually trained with whips and noises ain't they? At least that's what they do in the circuses he's seen in his time. Simply asking and making sure they know the reward seems too simple. Freddy is thoroughly taming. He's had experiences.

Does it have to be impressing or a challenge? Larry hopes that he is impressed and ready to dish out more. This old body can take whatever he can dream up...most of the time.]

Like that?

[Miami Vice is over. Now it's some sort of a nature program about the migration of sea turtles. The old man is straining his ears to hear the pop of the cap and try to determine what will happen next over the sounds of the sea and the mildly bored commentary.]

[Educational shit. Background noise. No sweat. It's better than a cowboy picture coming up and competing with Freddy for Larry's attention. Well the kid's not taking any chances. He caps the gun oil then tosses it aside, eager to get right down to business, and business is gripping Larry's ass to hold him in place while his lube slick fingers push between his thighs. First around his hole, second dipping into him.]

Just like that, Larry.

[Freddy wastes no time in pushing the whole length of his index finger in, the better to feel around for Larry's prostate. Oh there it is. He rubs on it.]

Fuck. [It's a groan if thanks as well as damning the process. Not like the kid can just go on in at once. Well, that is until he goes at it with a finger. Trim, flappy Newendyke fingers.]

Oh fuck.

[One whole finger isn't a whole dick. Larry tries to tilt his hips without tipping over. Thick, hairier thighs are shaking. Rubbing the pad of one finger alone is rocking his world.]

Open me up.

[Please. Gulp.]

Edited 2012-01-25 08:38 (UTC)

Like this?

[Here's a second finger, Lawrence Dimick. It's his middle finger, making it two digits pressing on his prostate now. Freddy makes it look like it's standard procedure, opening another man's ass up.]

[Knees gotta lock. Don't want to fall right on his face or nothing. He can't hide any hiss or moan as Freddy works with two.]

Dammit.

[Each pass has him fighting to not rock on them.]

C'mon.

[Is that what this is turning into? Making the old man beg for his cock because he didn't jump all over him the minute he got home? Larry tenses his ass around those fingers.]

[The shortest and simplest answer is yes, followed by a coy maybe. Seeing the way Larry tries not to totter too far though evokes some sympathy in the kid. He switches his grip from his rear to the harness.]

Better?

[Oh he knows that's not what Dimmy really wants. He knows.]

[The man's not even seeing the big blue or the sea turtles he's craning his neck to look on over his shoulder. No change at all at what's going on up inside him. There's a strained, exasperated sigh.]

Freddy.

[Pant. Pant. Seriously, Dimick. Is that all you got. Reach deep down and stick it out. Deep down is where those fingers are rubbing and pressing. It feels amazing, there's no hesitation to how he's touching on this big old man. Fingers are not filling him the way he wants.]

No. Come on. Get on with it.

[Heh heh heh. Just look at him, Lawrence "Two Guns" Dimick. Mr. White the fucking professional wanting to get fucked. These two fingers slip on out of him then wipe themselves 'clean' on Larry's side. Not the inked side, Freddy's kind to the royalty there. Tug to the harness as he stands too, then he lets go of Larry.]

Get down on your knees. [Cop voice.] Kiss the table or kiss the floor. Your choice.

[More kindness extended in his direction by giving him options. The truth is Freddy also can't wait to sink into the old man's ass. He's so often not the one testing the limits to his tightness he's practically a vice to Orange every time. Okay that might be an exaggeration but how many men can say they get to shove their dick up Mr. White's ass? Honestly how many?]

[Nice to know that he got out a response without directly begging. That was still more than what he wanted to let on. Oh well. Results are results. Even if he did want to go to the next step losing those fingers and going empty about takes his breath away.

The table would be more kind to his body later. Too far. Too much more waiting.]

Anythin' else?

[As he's getting down on his knees and then tilting until his cheek is to the floor. Damn authoritative. That's the kind of barking command you'd think would have highly reflective sunglasses.

That bare, tight ass is angled and exposed. His cock is still framed in leather and hanging. Usually it's fixing to get buried in the kid's ass. Few would guess that Lawrence Dimick is bent, an even smaller amount would guess that he's so eager to have a wiry, shorter man do the plowing. What does Mr. White care? Freddy makes him feel amazing.

How many men shoved up Mr. White? It's not a long list at all. No names are worth saying right now.]

How's the view?

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