orangetoughguy | log post II

Everything's on the inside.

[That's the plain simple answer.

No mind here though, Larry can take a smaller somewhat daintier flappy hand. The whole what it feels like as a woman thing though...yeah. Freddy still can't fathom it. Is it the old man's ego that what's to know why women squeal when he does certain things to them? As someone who still has a taste for ladies that's make sense in Larry's case. Maybe.]

Nope. Does it mess with your head? [Either one.]

I know that. But can it even feel the same when you're on or when you get off?

[Casual, analytical even. They can only talk about it. They're grown adults. It's no thing.]

I mean, touch alone [squeeze his hand a bit] isn't different at all.

[Which leads Larry to believe that Freddy would feel the same for nearly all points and purposes. Or something. It's a weird trip all over.]

Sure does. The song comes on and I'm thinking and no one else is thinking what I am. Gets me every time. Gotta take a break.

[........Analytical as it is the kid totally knows what the old man is getting at. Fff. Talk about the music first.]

I get that way when Deep Purple comes on in the garage. Then I gotta take a break in the little backroom bathroom. [The one the guys have to use.] I just sit on the john and take it out, don't even gotta wait to get it hard. Just--[He pantomimes jerking off with his free hand.] And done.

[He may or may not have just shared this story on purpose.]

[....Hey, talking before doing. Or at least just talking. Something like that. Okay, shit. Freddy know know how Larry is wired.]

Only Deep Purple? [He smirks even though he attempts to keep a straight face.] I get hard, fast. Don't take too much from there. I keep thinking about the first time I heard it. [Thinking of Deep Purple, that was memorable too, huh? Larry swallows. Woah. This is very different but he knows damn well the effect this story has, slowly but surely.] I try to get the farthest stall.

Naw, not just Deep Purple, that's just the first one I could think of. You do a pretty good job keepin' your suit clean.

[The kid shrugs here oh so casually like he's unaware of the effect he's having on Lawrence Dimick. He's not unaware at all. Is that unfair of him?]

We don't got stalls at the garage. I gotta keep the door locked and make it real quick.

Can't go back to work dirty. Don't want anyone to get ideas. I got a reputation of being a professional so I gotta be careful.

[If Larry was in his own body Freddy would feel exactly what he's doing. He is getting up in the kid's space again, heading for that mouth.]

How quick? We should do lunch next time.

[They always talk about it. Hands aren't going north or south. Right at the waist in a safe zone.]

Real quick.

[That's the only answer he can give because he's mildly distracted by the hands on his waist, mouth heading for mouth. Everything's so damn soft, he feels like he's handling an old girlfriend or something...except none of his girlfriends ever looked quite like Lawrence Dimick does now.]

Okay. When we have dicks again.

[Freddy purses his lips, relenting by an inch.]

You have that effect, don't you?

[On himself. On Larry. Even with a mouth as soft as his is right now, the old man is trying to give a hard kiss.]

Until [liiick] then?

I guess.

[Another shrug goes here. He can feel Larry's tongue in his mouth now and instinctively the kid's got to suck on it...the taste of Chesterfield isn't as strong. Is this the City's way of saying women are inherently cleaner than men, or do they have to take the time to dirty up their bodies again? Either way...Freddy's got to part his mouth here and there to talk.]

Have you...mm...have you ever...mm...

You can get me off quick.

[That's not entirely a hint. Just facts. Ah, there we go. His tongue slides against Freddy's. Did he not smoke yet? Because it doesn't taste like it. And his tongue is a little shorter, maybe even more thin.]

Have I....?

[He pulls back a little. Kissing's not so bad.]

Have you... [That feels so good the kid almost regrets what he's about to do. Almost.] Have you...

[Now green eyes can look into brown ones.] Have you tried taking a piss yet?

[This stops him midway at this. Brown eyes pull back and just look at Freddy's face. Why would you say that? Why?]

...No. I haven't left upstairs yet.

[The moment is dead, gunned down by Freddy Newendyke.]

You're gonna have to try at some point. Me too.

[Brrrrr, the kid shivers at the very thought.]

Great.

[Meaning that he'll have to sit pissing. However that is meant to go. Just...sit and do it? Is that all?]

Any of my smokes in here?

[...after a week.]

I dunno, you might have to dig around.

[But look at how helpful Freddy's being now, wriggling a bit to search around his bed, the nightstand, inside the nightstand where he keeps lube and rubbers they don't even use anymore. Marlboros are right on top but them ain't no Chesterfields. Urgh. Oh hey wait.]

Hold up.

[Look this is just what he has to do to get what he spies between the bed and the nightstand okay? The kid leans off the side of the bed, rear up, tits hanging. Reeeeeaaaach. There we go. A single unlit Chesterfield. It's only slightly bent, he presents it to Larry.]

[While looking around he can roll his eyes at...everything. of all the dumb luck and circumstances. The shelves are filled with figures. At the hold up, he stops. And now he's got an eye full. Oh fuck. All that right there.]

Thanks.

[For the cigarette. Though Larry's thinking over going to the bathroom already. He'll light it up himself.]

How'd you know it was there?

[Back on the bed Freddy just shrugs, hands flapping slightly.]

Don't know, I mean you're always in here. [Except for the past week.] Knew somethin' had to be lying around.

[He'll light his own smoke up too. Sitting in bed is just damn warm and comfortable.]

[Larry keeps his legs off the bed, he doesn't want to burn the bed after all. The better to be closer to the ash tray, maybe to also hide how utterly and completely cut down he feels.]

I should keep a spare in here.

[For always, man or woman, fight or not. Preferably male and not fighting when it gets down to it.]

A whole damn day like this.

[. . . . . . . . .] Oh come on Larry. What's wrong.

[As if he can really hide that look from Freddy Newendyke. Reading faces is part of his calling, nevermind how he does better with people he actually likes.]

[Heavy sigh. There is no lying to him.]

I'm glad we're talking again. I feel like we can't make up properly.

[And he's upset that it's been a week. Are there any other pieces of evidence they sleep together in here?]

....really nothin' big.

[Could be worse, they could be fighting.]

[Well, well. Freddy can't blame Larry for feeling the way he does. He feels the same way too, just another reason why he hates being a woman. Oh fuck what if they aren't really women but happened to swap bodies with a pair of dykes?? But wait, Larry does have his tattoo...hrm.]

...Think if I give you a hickey it'll go away when you're a guy again?

[Inhale and slow exhale. He thinks it over.]

I think it would, if you shot me right now I'd likely still have a mark.

[Taps ash.]

You're welcomed to try.

[Though he's not making the first move.]

[Freddy takes a particularly deep pull from his cigarette, slow and steady, then streams the rest of it through his nose. Green eyes are looking on.]

Okay.

[Cigarette held aside, the kid leans in for the kill, teeth clamping down on the other man's neck as if the pressure will convince him (and himself) that he's still a man under those tits.]

[To be honest, he didn't think much of it. The man talked about pissing when they were swapping saliva. That was a big red stop sign for Larry. Color him a few shades of surprised.]

Ah! Fucking shit! [Damn lucky the hand that reaches to get a handful of his hair is not the one with the burning cigarette. Larry hisses from pain and the other extreme. It process the same in this dickless body.]

[Oops. Freddy releases.]

Too hard for you, tough guy?

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