orangetoughguy | log post II

Don't mean a thing. You're right behind.

[Even though he's in front and beneath. Huff, huff and puff. Back into motion. Freddy has got to come now. It'll make his relenting less of a point of bragging.]

Come on. Fucking burst.

[Grinding. Stroking. Even though Freddy's got a shirt on he still bites at his shoulder and upper arm.]

I wanna feel it, baby.

[Right on his fucking heels really. The kid's so fucking close, just starting up again on his ass and dick gets him spilling drops of precum.]

Fuck...that's it baby. Larry.

[Now Freddy's got it in him to move with Larry again, for himself and for the old man's benefit. Let him watch and feel his baby writhing on his cock, fucking and getting fucked and bitten until he blows, which is right about now. Freddy moans loud and heavy, moaning turns into deeper ragged gasps as he stains Larry's fingers. Making a goddamn mess in here, they'll have to clean it later.]

[Semen is hot on his fingers. Just to feel more of it he keeps his fist moving.]

That's the way. Good man. [Their low murmurs near his ear. Every stroke on his dick striving to milk out every drop like the size of the mess as a gauge of success.]

Fuckin' beautiful, that's what you are, baby.

[His baby. No one else's. This ass for all of it's frequent use doesn't get to service any other dick. A point of pride. Not to say that he'll never fuck anybody else but chances are it won't be like how Lawrence Dimick does it.

Nothing else left in him or Freddy he grinds and keeps stroking soaking in the mess. The smell of gunpowder and fucking. Good, good shit.]

Edited 2011-06-10 08:22 (UTC)

[The fingers in Larry's hair are still there but they've gone from clutching to loose rubbing. Freddy kneads his fingertips over the old man like he's massaging his scalp. He probably is. When the writhing subsides all that's left is the slow grind of success and satisfaction. Even when the kid thinks about fucking someone else it's always with the old man's company in mind. He wants Larry to watch, wants Larry to enjoy it. If Larry doesn't like it then what's the point right? They haven't taken that step yet but the fact it's no thing to the old man is fucking sweet.]

You're not...so bad yourself...

[He breathes in soft huffs, eyes relaxing a bit but clearly looking a little exhausted. Oh but just to wrap up that scenario, Orange has to add:] Old man.

Face it. It's the best you ever had.

[Slowly he's easing upright even though it means surrendering that head massage.]

Probably the best you'll.

[Both hands are at Freddy's hips now. The one that has been clutching the whole time has the marks to show for it and the other is marked by some of the kid's load.]

Since I'm done with you I'll move. You got off this time.

[So did the old man in a big, big way. Pulling out will have to be a careful process.]

[Well okay he'll give White that with a casual shrug but he's not gonna say it. Fff. Freddy drops his hand to the crate now that there's no big thick bear skull to rub. No real loss there because he's beat anyway and yeah for the record he just knows he's got paw marks on one side.]

Okay. I learned my lesson.

[Says Orange, semi-flippant because he's only semi-back in character. Look it's kind of hard to keep it up especially after a thorough fuck, and Freddy's not exactly what they call a method actor either. He can't even push himself up on his elbows yet but he's shifting his thighs a little to make separation easier. In doing so he can feel a slight sting that guarantees a little soreness for the next day.]

Good.

[A hair ruffle with the praise. A quick heavy handed pat before he decides to help a fella out by easing him upright. Before he sets himself straight Larry stoops to pull up Freddy's pants.]

Wanna take something home?

[Of their new stash. The old man knows exactly who is heading home with Freddy to their apartment (and bird). No brainer.]

[Ruffling his hair like he's some kind of kid gets a sharp look from the kid but it's a look he hardly means. He's too tired to combat it anyway. Straightening up poses a real challenge for Freddy Newendyke.]

Damn... [Note the slightly awkward way he stands. It's gonna be that way for at least 24 hours. Freddy zips and buttons up his pants.] I think you outdid yourself this time.

[But he kind of says that all the time. After a quick look around, Freddy picks up the sniper rifle. Wait aren't they gonna look weird going down the street carrying gear?] Not real subtle...

[There's no small portion of pride noticing the changes to the kid's stance. Yeah, he does get the feeling it's always outdone or some shit. The delivery almost makes him believe it. Except for their ruffled hair, sweat and smell nothin' to see here.]

Sure.

[Now he'll take a load off on the crate putting himself completely in order with a comb.]

Does it gotta strap? Y'could strap it to your back and hold your coat over your shoulder. I got your back.

Sure, if I wanna look like a guerilla.

[Not the kind with a huge dick, but Freddy's already taking his jacket to see how well it can wrap around the rifle. If he folds the stock it could work.]

Got a problem with gorillas?

[Sorry. He's thinking of those big dicked monsters. Since he's taking a breather Larry lights up a Chesterfield and watches Freddy try and make it work.]

In this town who the fuck would stop or blame you? It could be a realistic toy.

[Shrug. Puff. It looks good on him.]

Do you?

[It's not a real honest to goodness curiosity. No need to delve into what makes the old man uncomfortable about them. Freddy will however pluck that Chesterfield to take a short pull for himself before handing it back.]

What're you takin' back?

Maybe.

[He taps ash on the floor. Nothin' doing about that. The riches around them are the best part of the place. Nothing more to say for the rest.]

Not sure. Lemme see.

[There's another crate that wasn't assaulted. Larry jimmies it open.]

This here is more my speed.

[Small arms in here. Colts, Smith and Wessons.]

Decisions, decisions.

[Rifle slung over his back now, Freddy raises his hands.] Take your time, babe.

[No it's not a spin on baby, he's just implying Larry can act like a woman at times. Like a woman on a shopping spree except the old man's tastes suit Freddy far better.]

Fuck you.

[His cigarette flicks ash as he waves the hand in the air that's holding it at this implication.]

I gotta try a few for size.

[Watch this Freddy, the old man takes a Beretta and holds it with one hand and then the other. No he isn't gonna fire just see how it feels.]

[There's a rub to his own rear here as Freddy only semi-mutters.] I think you just did.

[Oh he's watching, he's watching Larry show off his well known ability to dual-wield. Don't keep it up too long because no matter how rough that fuck was, this kid can always go for another. He's not an old man yet.]

[A glance for that to gauge exactly what he means by it. Other than that though he's trying another gun. The Beretta is a candidate. There's a soft space in his heart for S&W though.]

Why the hell not.

[One gun in his waistband. Two. Three...]

Just a few.

Whoa you're really packing it in there.

[Freddy says with true surprise so no it's not innuendo. Never know when they might need this stuff he supposes...but taking a grenade would be pretty risky so he leaves those alone.]

What about the flamethrower?

I gotta wear my coat if I want these.

[Coat on and a few buttons looks like nothing at all.]

We'll have to make a special trip for that one.

[Which means they're keeping the whole lot.]

You do want it, right? Don't wanna sell it? I think we could get a pretty penny for it.

Yeah I want it. [The kid admits.] To keep. I think the grenades gotta go, I mean havin' them sit here makes the whole place a landmine. What happens if there's an earthquake or the floor upstairs caves in?

[A thoughtful pause.] We can keep a pair.

I got pockets.

[For grenades that is. No worries at all because they're not the pull pin sort. Army issued so they're meant for travel he figures.]

Well. I say we save the selling for another day.

[He takes a draw of his cigarette. He may not be talking about it but...the ol' bear feels worn out.]

Ready to head out?

[Clunk. The lid is back on the crate.]

[He's got two grenades in hand.] Way ahead of you.

[Pocketing. Talk about awkward but no doubt this is how crooks do it. Cops get a kit belt, something Freddy doesn't have in this world.] Let's go.

Say g'night.

[To all of those pretty weapons. Larry's got the door, holding it open like a gentleman. If such gentleman have six guns on them.]

That a grenade in your pocket or--?

[Freddy walks on through first because he happens to enjoy it when Larry wants to be a gent, even when this gent cracks a corny joke.]

If you wanted me to blow you away you could just ask.

I think you just did.

[Ear to ear grin before he sucks down the very last of his cigarette. He turns out the light and shuts the door.]

log post II

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