orangetoughguy | log post II

[Brown eyes blink open then shut, slowly drifting up to watch the body move above him. His tongue rolls under as he keeps his lips tight.

Did he say get it wet?]

[Yes he sure did. It doesn't take a genius to know why, especially if your name is Lawrence Dimick too. Why else would the kid want it real slick and ready huh?]

I fuckin' love your mouth.

[Hand in his hair he's fucking that mouth now, no other way to really say it.]

[Sure doesn't. And right now he's nobody's genius. All the blood is rushing to his most neglected groin.

The rest of him is still at work, moving to compliment Freddy's movements. He's glad to be providing a mouth that's worth fucking. And faggot that he is, he loves this dick that's between his lips.]

[It won't be neglected for long. See here comes a hand reaching back to knead Larry's cock through his clothes. That's all for now though, because the old man said fuck the Dodgers.]

You want it goin' somewhere else don't you?

[A tight groan slips out surprising even Larry at the touch of that hand. His pants feel too fucking tight.]

Mmmhmmm.

[Here, he'll surrender one grip to the kid's ass to work the rest of his cock that won't fit into his mouth.]

[Oh that's nice, Larry's always been good with his big old paws. It's enough to get the kid relenting just a little, working to open those pants up now and draw that other cock out with firm strokes.]

Right in your ass? How's that sound?

[Panting, and unable to really move with that hand he puts all his effort and pleading into that hand grasping the base and moving his mouth tighter faster.]

Nnnhhh huh.

[Yeah, kid. He wants it.]

Well you fuckin'...deserve it, having a mouth--like that.

[Groan. Freddy talks like this is a punishment for badmouthing his baseball team but they both know better. He pulls at Larry's hair while shifting back, to separate them and neglect the old man's dick entirely.]

Turn over. [Have a smack to the thigh to get the bear going.]

[Larry lets Freddy hold his head and pull back, saliva is slick in his mouth and on that dick. He feels proud of himself for the lip and for getting this kind of punishment.]

Gonna show me a thing or [smack...what...] two?

[And he's gonna be turning over, except now see he's got pants to shimmy out of. That allowed, tough guy?]

I'm gonna show you what this Dodger boy can do.

[Starting with pulling those pants off Larry...but only off his hips. Keeping them shoved down to his knees isn't the same as using a belt or tape but there's something to be said for improvising.]

All fours, ass up.

[He commands, like he's some kind of sergeant. Yep. A little lube on his cock gets it slick and ready however fingers are going between the old man's thighs first. He keeps a hand clutching Larry's rear.]

Dodger boy? Don't make me laugh.

[Though he isn't at all. His ass is bare and clutched, makes him feel like a prime piece of meat. Larry listens even though he's offering up more mouth of a different sort.]

Why do you even like those bums?

Dodger boy's got more charm to it. We can go with Dodger man though.

[Down to the second knuckles already.] Cause out in the middle of bumfuck Central California it's them or the Giants. And I'm not no fuckin' Giants fan.

[The way he says it sounds like the kid oughta spit on a curb right after. Which he does, but down between those firm thighs instead. He curls his fingers to press against his prostate, then in and out to get his saliva working with the lube.]

[Right on into it? Oh damn. Larry thinks about clutching the sheets but it's too damn soon and he won't give the man, Dodger man satisfaction yet. When the hell was the last time? Feels like too, too long.]

May as well choose a team from any other place.

[The spit is warm on his skin, warmer and thinner than the lube. The old man pushes against his fingers, panting harder fighting not to say shit encouraging or damning.]

You're pissed they actually play a good game.

[Freddy concludes while working Larry's insides. As if to make matters more contradicting, although his fingers are far from gentle, the kiss he places at the very end of Larry's spine is warm and inviting. Inviting him to say encouraging or damning shit.]

No. [Rough, solid denial even though he wants so badly to say yes to the way he's working his insides.]

I know a good team [his voice is as tight as the grip at Freddy's fingers] when I---see em. Oh fuck. [He clenches his teeth.]

I guess you haven't seen enough action from this side of the fence.

[Shameless double meanings. Finally he takes his fingers out but replacing them with his dick doesn't come immediately. The kid pushes down on the old man's back to get him leaning on one shoulder, the one attached to the arm bearing a wildcat. He's gonna curl this well-muscled limb behind his back, the way a cop does to disarm a crook, though admittedly not so rough.]

I'm gonna take care of that. [Freddy says as he presses himself to Larry now.] Just the way you want it?

[Oh yeah, he's gonna get a word or two first.]

I seen enough.

[Huff. Larry wouldn't call it squirming but without those fingers he feels empty, gaping. He pushes back trying to get some kind of relief. The way his arm is pulled back, he can't move very well.]

Fucking take care of it. [Damn a little more and they'd be fucking. He's gonna have to beg for it, isn't he?]

[Okay he'll give this tough bastard an inch. But only an inch. Enough to get inside him without really digging deep. Look it's no walk in the park for Freddy either, he's desperate to fuck the shit out of Larry now, but he did piss on the Dodgers' good name. He's got to pay his respects too.]

You want more...?

[Fuck it's hard, holding Mr. White down like this and not yet screwing him.]

[That's it? That's all? Oh come on. He gives an exasperated grunt and attempts to shove himself onto that cock more. Not working? Then fine, he'll clench a bit but even that is torture for himself too.]

What do you think?

[Larry throws a look over is shoulder as much as he can manage.]

Fuck me.

[Just hearing the words brings a little smile to the kid's face. Look he can't help it, hearing Larry say that just makes him feel like he's won the lottery. As if to emphasize his boyish joy, Freddy reaches down to ruffle Larry's hair.]

Okay.

[And here we go, in deeper inch by fucking inch. Shit he's tight, has it been that long? Freddy breathes slow and steady.] Christ...

[Ruffled hair gets in his eyes a moment. Maybe it's best so that his own sense of elation is hidden a bit. This Newendyke kid gets him wound up like no one else.]

That's it, baby. All the way in my ass. I want it.

[He can give an itch too. Breathe old man. Relax.]

[Finally sunken in to the hilt Freddy takes a moment to regain his composure. This Dimick man gets him wound up like no one else too, got all his limbs near shaking, but he can't go to pieces yet. He's got an ass to pound.]

Like this, huh? [He gives a short but firm thrust.] More?

[He gives a second one before settling into a continuous rhythm. One arm hooks under the wildcat to guarantee each impact against his rear is a solid one.] Fuck you're beautiful, baby.

More.

[At this point he's ready to beg for more if that is what he wants. Begging before talking up the Dodgers. He's clutching at the sheets, lifting his hips...anything to get more out of it.]

I love it.

[The pounding, the hold of his arm. And shit, the impact too. He's already moaning.]

Goddamn. You're fucking fantastic.

I throw pretty fast ones too.

[Freddy manages to grunt out between thrusts. It's like a heavy drum beat he's got going on, making sure to create solid strikes rather than create some backbone melody. His other hand slips down to Larry's thigh, around to brush his fingers along his dick but he's not gonna start jacking him just yet.]

Do you want my hand on you?

[Throw. What? Oh. Baseball. It's a million miles away from his thoughts right now because they're all filled with Freddy and what he's doing it his body. He lifts his his a little higher and it's the perfect angle.

Hand on him? Larry nods but then he remembers that it may as well be writhing. That hand feels like it's a hot iron.]

Lemme fuck your hand.

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