orangetoughguy | log post II

A hell of a man, that's what you are. [And he says it with all the sentiment he can muster for this Marlon Brando type with his comics, figures, floats and shakes. Even if this man is a whore. He's one of a fucking kind.]

You know I'd take good, good care of you later after you're full.

[Of food. If it is interpreted otherwise that's up to the kid. The hoodi has been very convenient lately. Larry decides that he should get Freddy a few more. Warm weather or not.]

Found it.

[The camera he means. The paw at the wheel is pointing forward and up. The angle is sharp and pretty much is exactly at the menu speaker.]

Oh yeah, I know. [He shrugs once as his fingers reach under that hoodie to start working those pants open.] Me too.

[Found what Freddy was looking for under there that is.]

[Any passerby would believe from the sound that the old man is stretching. Not exactly.]

You sure?

[Freddy's find is getting harder in his hand. Oh fuck. The car in front of them is moving.]

Fuck. What's your order big shot?

[Maybe it'll move faster from here.]

Vanilla shake, root beer float.

[When he's got Larry out--he doesn't need to actually see between those thighs to know--Freddy removes his hand only to pop the glove box open for a little squeeze of lube. There we go. Back in and back under. He takes a firm hold of that cock, starting with slow even but firm strokes.]

Huh. Burger or sandwich?

[The kid's kinda sorta leaning over to see the menu while he does his dirty work. It's just that easy nowadays, Larry taught him well.]

[The old bear groans softly and shuts his eyes a moment. The grip on his steering wheel tightens.]

Okay.

[His arm goes behind Freddy's back since he's leaning over. Give the guy a little room. Fizzling and crackling come from the speaker. No voice yet.]

Depends on what kind of meat you want.

[Larry laughs at his own joke breathlessly.]

I'm going with a burger myself.

[Oof.] What is it, too tight for you?

[The puns keep rolling. Hm but as for food, Freddy points at some sort of philly cheese steak grilled sandwich deal. It looks like a heart attack waiting too happen but he's a young guy, a young guy who eats pasta from the can. It's no thing.] I want that. And a side of fries.

[He settles back in his own seat, fist pumping between slow and fast to give the old man a challenge when he's talking to that speaker.]

No.

[It's rushed out. That's what keeps it steady. He'll have to order some damn time. Is he out of the way or still leaning? The paw at Freddy's back rubs with fingers, trying not to get too handsy. It's public but not.

Now is the ultimate test. There's a voice on the line that wants to know what their order is. What the fuck is with time passing faster when he's in the hot seat?]

Hi. Yeah. [Swallow, breathe man. He's got food to order. And the minimum wage fast food slave doesn't want to hear an old man breathe heavy.] Can I get two shakes. Vanilla. Chocolate.

[Clipped, all of it. From the burger with fries to the heart attack sandwich. Larry feels like he's got some kind of a stutter to overcome. Maybe that'll be what the other chump is thinking. In reality, even though the old man can't see he can feel his hard cock being worked by one of Freddy's flappy hands.]

Seasoned.

[Freddy adds with another brief lean and semi-shout, just to make sure the wage slave got his order.]

You did pretty good there.

[The kid praises, watching the old man's face as his fist works a little bit faster. Oh what? They're not done yet? That's right the minimum wage guy has to repeat their order to confirm it. He leaves the confirmation bit up to Larry.

[His mouth is slightly open as though he's waiting for the right moment to say something. There aren't any words though. The faster pace makes him completely tense almost bend over the steering wheel.]

Oh fuck. [Kung fu grip. Larry turns his head away from the speaker and the camera to look at the man. He slowly licks his lips. Oh wait. He listens to whatever is muffled back and shouts over his shoulder.]

Great. Sounds great.

["Okay." Either the kid on the other side of the speaker doesn't know or doesn't care. Whatever the case may be it works for Freddy who know puts his hand into higher gear. He's got to finish the old guy off before they get to the window. Fortunately for them the hoodie and shadows cover all the action. It's up to whoever's watching that live feed to make of Larry's expression what they will.]

You like that huh? You dirty old fuck.

[The window is at least two cars away. Larry and Freddy are stuck at the speaker. He has to keep his face turned away. Right now his brow is furrowed, mouth open like a caught fish. That's what he is, a piece of meat wriggling on the line.]

Uh huh. You got strong working hands, baby. I sometimes forget my dick can fit pretty well in other places.

Don't ask to hump the laugh hole or anything. Shakes aren't chasers.

[He means oral sex in case his phrasing wasn't clear enough. Giving Larry a handjob in a drive thru is one thing, but going down on him? Now that's risky. Oh but just for that 'compliment' Freddy squeezes his palm tight around the tip, letting his thumb do a bit of work there.]

I wouldn't get to [pant pant pant] talk.

[At or with. Larry is trying not to roll his hips with the movement of his hand.]

Fuck. That how you touch yourself, huh?

You ask that like you've never seen me whack off.

[Has he? Maybe it's because they have each other that watch one another from start to finish without any involvement is just pure torture. No big deal to this flappy kid, he's gonna keep it in mind. Oh hey they're out of earshot from the speaker right??]

Why don't you tell me what you like.

[The kid works a slower but no less hard pace. It's sure not tight like other places but he's got dexterity on his side.]

[The window is up now. Though hopefully the speaker isn't that powerful.]

I've seen a time or two. Feeling it though...with nothin' else... [No kissing. No touching on Freddy. Who says he can't? Driving, even though they're not going anywhere quickly means he still has to use at least one of his hands.

Woah. Wait. Speaking of which. They have to roll forward a little.]

Get more lube in your hand. Work the tip like you're tryin' to screw something on.

[No pun intended. He puts up a pretty good effort of appearing calm putting the car into gear. Strike that. It is more like acceptably anxious. And then park. Finally. And out of the camera's shot.]

The rest of it, well, work the base like you're cocking a rifle. Keep it smooth, baby.

[Well, Freddy did tell him to tell him what he likes. The kid can't complain when the old man makes demands. Fff. He discretely slips his hand out from the hoodie again to add more lube. Now he's got two palms to work with seeing as how they're not quite angled at either camera and there's still two cars to go at the window. Longest fucking drive thru ever.]

I'm goin' back under.

[Freddy warns but he waits until after the car's put into park. There we go. As directed, one palm starts screwing the top while the other cocks the base, over and fucking over. Anyone who looks in is guaranteed to get a better idea of what they're doing...but no one's looking. Yet.] Come on baby.

[At this point for how long they've been waiting how are people not expected to fuck around?]

That's the way. [Larry's moving a little with it. Could be that a guy is getting comfortable in the car. Switching up a seating arrangement. He drops a paw to one of Freddy's forearms.]

Yeah. Oh fuck. Two seconds, babe.

[Lawrence Dimick is not and never will be a teenage girl or even a teenager again but the kid has that kind of an effect on him.]

One...

[Freddy starts counting only because he said two seconds. That hand is still cocking the base like he's pumping a rifle in one hand, which the kid has done before (blame wanting to look like an action superhero). The twisting palm is less dramatic in execution but no less firm, intense. He wants to make this old fuck come all over his hoodie and pants. Make a fucking mess of himself.]

Two.

[Drive-in or no drive-in, date or no date, Lawrence Dimick is not and never will be a teenage girl in Freddy Newendyke's eyes.]

[Grip tightens on his forearm. Larry can feel the muscles and tendons move together in that arm. Hairs brush over his fingertips when he shifts his grip. It's definitely the arm of a man. This fucking Freddy Newendyke. Here is paradise.]

Jesus fucking Christ.

[That gun goes off. Hard and fast. The old man wants to lean over and get is mouth all over that man like his load is all over his fingers. Guess that'll do for now.]

Yeah, big man.

That's it baby. Come all over me.

[Just because he's coming doesn't mean the kid is stopping. Those hands continue to work and work, albeit at a slow but still very hard pace. He's milking the fuck out of Larry, making sure each string of semen is out of his balls and all over his fingers. See, because after he feels the old man's spent, Freddy's gonna lift that hoodie up and make him suck them clean. At least one hand, come on now.]

Good job, tough guy.

Uh huh.

[Larry swallows so that he doesn't drool all over like a dog. He stops trying to fuck the kid's ands because he's doing a good enough job. Each and every time it's like he is draining the well dry. Like. And there's more than a little mastery in it.]

You got every fucking bit.

[Man. Now he feels like he'd go for a smoke. And food. One of those is still in the process though.]

Well I've had practice. Your turn.

[The kid raises only one hand up for the old man to lick down. Consider it a charitable gesture that Freddy's not making Larry take care of both hands before they can roll up to the window. That would look suspicious to other drivers after all. He's using the hoodie and those pants to wipe his other hand clean.]

[He's going to ask what he meant by turn but the hand says it all. No questions asked, he takes a good long lick. Brown eyes on green eyes as he takes one finger into his mouth slowly.]

Mmm.

[Direct eye contact is threatening to make the kid so damn hard but he maintains it anyway as one finger becomes two. He wedges a second into Larry's mouth in order to pinch at his tongue, fingers and muscle moving together.]

You're not gonna wash that all down with a coke are you? [The soda, not the snow, obviously.]

[That is kind of the point. The kid earned a payoff. Sure can't be right now. Not the way the old man wants to deliver it. Tongue pinched he lets it slip and writhe. And he'll push to touch between those two fingers. Is there a third dirty one?]

So. What if I am.

[Might not be distinct because of those fingers in his mouth.]

log post II

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