26/10/2020

pockets, a graceful hoodlum ballet. He jerk his head and
Johnny walk ahead of him into the bedroom. Mary follow. “All right, boys,” she say, sitting down naked on a pink silk dais overlooking the bed. “Get with it I”
Mark begin to undress with fluid movements, hiprolls, squirm out of his turtle-neck sweater revealing his beautiful white torso in a mocking belly dance. Johnny
deadpan, face frozen, breath quick, lips dry, remove his clothes and drop them on the floor. Mark lets his shorts fall on one foot. He kick like a chorus-girl, sending
the shorts across the room. Now he stand naked, his cock stiff, straining up and out. He run slow eyes over Johnny’s body. He smile and lick his lips. Mark drop on one knee, pulling Johnny across his back by one arm. He stand up and throw him six feet
onto the bed. Johnny land on his back and bounce.
Mark jump up and grab Johnny’s ankles, throw his legs over his head. Mark’s lips are drawn back in a tight snarl. “All right, Johnny boy.” He contracts his body,
slow and steady as an oiled machine, push his cock up Johnny’s ass. Johnny give a great sigh, squirming in ecstasy. Mark hitches his hands behind Johnny’s shoulders, pulling him down onto his cock which is buried to the hilt in Johnny’s ass. Great whistles through his teeth. Johnny screams like a bird. Mark is rubbing his
face against Johnny’s, snarl gone, face innocent and boyish as his whole liquid being spurt into Johnny’s quivering body. A train roar through him whistle blowing . . . boat
whistle, foghorn, sky rocket burst over oily lagoons . . .penny arcade open into a maze of dirty pictures . . .ceremonial cannon boom in the harbor . . . a scream