[A polaroid? That's smart thinking, old man. Freddy would have used his handheld network device only because that shit doesn't even exist where they come from yet. It's cool. On the other hand, polaroids are a lot more intimate and also a tiny bit dirty. Freddy Newendyke likes getting dirty with Lawrence Dimick.]

I'd start in a corner, get myself real worked up. I'm the last guy in there cause I don't want anybody to see right? But the star wide receiver comes back cause he forgot a Hustler tucked in his locker. He catches me red fuckin' handed and it freaks him out so bad he drops his book open to a spread of some Racquel Welch clone getting triple-fucked by the pool. The guy's getting off on that shit and he thinks I'm the weirdo? What a joke.

[Freddy manages to tell this story like he's having a cigarette instead of giving Larry a handjob.]

The real kicker is when he whips his own dick out and it's a pretty big one for a pretty big guy. He starts whacking off, he's trying to keep his eyes on her but I can feel him lookin' at me too. I know cause I got my eyes on him too, I'm thinkin' fuck man he's gonna beat the shit out of me any second. Mr. Wider Receiver walks over gettin' his shirt and pants wet, and the guy doesn't say a fucking word before he puts my hand on his cock. Did I say it's a fuckin' big cock?