Paint Cans

[Toon]

1982

It was the Summer after my 13th birthday when my dad decided I was old enough to get a job. He was in the military and hated seeing anyone not do anything.

"You've wasted enough vacation time lying in your room with a book. Too late to be a real kid now, David. You're going to contribute from now on."

What kind of job? I was thirteen. Was that legal? Maybe he wanted me to do something at the base he worked at...like build guns or diffuse bombs. He and I had absolutely no connection. 

"You'll be spending your days helping Mr. Murphy next door. He's 79 years old and needs help doing things around the house. Go to the store with him, help him make meals and keep him company. That's not so hard, is it?

"No sir." I'd maybe looked him in the eye maybe three times in my life. He was pure army. I was pure pansy.

The next morning Mom walked with me next door to Mr. Murphy's house. I hadn't seen him up close...ever. Picture Santa Claus on a crash diet. He had a white beard  and twinkling blue eyes, but he probably didn't weigh much more than I did. I felt good things from him. Kind things. 

"Master David! It's so good to meet you formally!" 

"Hello, Mr. Murphy."

"Oh, just call me Gus. I hear you've come to help me keep things ship-shape. You ready to get started? Want some cookies?"

I was in a mood. I'd just started a paperback by an author called 'Stephen King' and wished so badly I could tear through it. But okay. I washed his breakfast dishes and dusted all the thousands of little corners and crevices of his living room. I knew that Mrs. Murphy had died a few years ago. Calvin Foth and I were having a water gun fight in the backyard when the ambulance came. I just assumed she'd died from being old - I didn't know there was an official cause. My mood got better as I swept and polished. Poor man. I'd have plenty of time to read my book at night. 

I checked out cook books from the library and tried out different recipes. Turns out I had a natural flair for cooking. I made him brownies and pies. I liked eating dinner with him much more than I liked being at my own house where Dad's mood was usually dark and scary. Mr. Murphy talked to me about his time fighting in the big war and about living in Europe. He talked most about his departed wife. The man clearly loved her. If Gus was telling a great tale, I'd come home after 10 PM.

"You need to leave there sooner. That old man needs his sleep." Dad never once asked me anything about my life, he just gave commands. The bible says you have to love your parents no matter what, but I actually hated my father. Maybe the bible didn't know everything about life. Maybe it was bullshit. If I were ever brave enough to keep a diary, I'd write about what I just told you. But I knew better than to try and hide anything in this house.

Gus was right in the middle of a story about hiking in Switzerland when he just paused, closed his eyes and died. I never saw death in person. The ambulance came and my Summer job ended. I cried -- even though my dad kept reminding me that he wasn't even family. Like that matters. I skipped school to attend his funeral -- which was the very start of my rebellious teen years. Dad was an asshole, and now he would start paying.

I kept watering Gus's lawn and weeding his flower beds even though he wasn't there to pay me for it. I was refilling his bird feeders when a fancy car pulled into the driveway. I was technically trespassing, but Gus loved his birds. A very butch woman with short gray hair got out of the car and marched right up to me. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" I didn't even have a chance to answer. "I own this property now and you have to leave. I'm going to sell it the second as I clear all the crap out. Shoo." Crap? He had war medals in there...and like one billion framed photographs. Was this bitch his daughter? No way. He wouldn't have raised an evil toad like her. While I normally would have just silently slunk back to my house, I turned to this new owner and said "FUCK OFF!" I didn't even care if she saw my address and called my parents. I was slowly developing a spine.

FIVE YEARS LATER

I was in the middle of a bitter, sometimes violent battle with my father. He'd mostly ignored me since I went through puberty. I'd grown broader and taller but still had a girlish voice. I didn't know I was so obvious until I saw a videotape of myself at some wedding or something. I walked like a woman and my gestures were a little too delicate. I knew then that I was a FAG. My dad started avoiding me at all costs. It wasn't until I announced I didn't plan to go to college that he exploded and confronted me face-to-face. 

"What if I kicked your fairy ass right out now?! You're an adult and can go do whatever...work in a purse store maybe. I should have been wearing a rubber the whole time your mother and I slept in the same room." I just took the abuse calmly which only seemed to make him angrier. This was a nightly thing. I stopped getting haircuts at the base's barber shop and I hung around the worst of humanity, hoping for some bad influences. I smoked and shoplifted and made buddies with all the kids who had given up on a future. Just as I had. I had a full-time job that Summer and planned to find an apartment and never come back. I'd need to save up a little more money while I waited for my escape. 

That horrible woman kept the house for sale almost four years before giving up and replacing the sign in the yard with "For Rent". Ha! I'd been in the backyard when I overheard her bitching about what a disaster the garage was. "I found  an empty shell of snakeskin that had to be five feet long. Whatever's in there can stay in there." Thank God (who I know longer believed existed) for snakes...and the busted housing market. 

"Did you see who rented the house next door? Some goddamn Mexican guy" Dad was so racist, but usually held his tongue because it wasn't cool to be that way with new recruits who were mostly minorities. He only exposed that ugly side to us. "I guess I should stop even taking care of the lawn. Neighborhood's gone to hell. He's got tattoos all over his damn body. All in black ink..which means he got them in prison. I've seen enough kids with those -- and they all have a record."

I had to meet him. It would flat out kill my dad if I made friends with him. Didn't see him for weeks even though I was always looking for signs of the ex-con when I snuck out for cigarettes at night. Maybe I'd just start smoking in my room. What would happen? I didn't dare do it because it would hurt my mom. She was harmless, but I felt sorry for her and the life she'd had. I didn't love her, but I didn't wish her harm either. 

One day I noticed the new neighbor had put up some concrete religious statues in his front yard. Catholic. But he'd also set a birdbath right smack dab in the middle of the lawn. As gloomy as I was, I still got a rush of secondhand joy when I saw a sparrow or a starling enjoying a bath. Dad would not us to have a birdbath. "Those things are breeding grounds for mosquitoes."

I had just started a rare three-day weekend when I decided to move closer to the new neighbor's yard. It was mid-morning. There was a little gate hidden in Mr. Murphy's overgrown hedges. I had my cigs with me and decided have one -- just on the edge of the property where I could get a closer look at things. I wondered if his birdbath already had mosquito larvae wriggling around inside. Maybe I could dump it out and fill it back up with fresh water. No. The early morning sun was too bright and exposing. I'd just finish my smoke and go back home. I saw that the backyard was as overgrown as it had ever been. I liked it being a natural habitat for all sorts of wildlife, but he'd get fined by the city if they still gave a shit about things like that. There was same old rusted out swing and the rotting picnic table. The bitch daughter had never bothered to take care of any of this. I threw my spent cigarette into dew-soaked crabgrass and prepared to go back to my room to start a new book I'd bought called "The Color of Light".

"Hey!" I was busted. I thought about bolting for home, but didn't it. I really hadn't done anything wrong.

It was the supposed criminal Latin man I'd been hoping to get a glimpse of. He was shorter than me and his skin was a nice even brown. Jet black hair. He was only wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts. Sure enough, he was covered with tattoos that were all in black ink...and looked very amateur. Everything added up to an attractive, dangerous man.  "Sorry...I live next door and came out to sneak a smoke. I'll leave now."

"No. Why. I don't know anybody here and you seem like a friend." I don't think I'd ever given off that impression before. 

"I really liked the old man who lived here before you moved in. He was very old and I helped him with chores and stuff." He walked closer to me., barefoot and smiling.

"Yes. Is your father the military man? He does not seem to like me much, Yes?"

"He's an ass. Ignore him. He's working himself into an early heart attack and I hate to say it but I can't wait."

"Yes. You look a lot like him, but you don't push hate out of your pores like he does. Are you in school?"

"Just graduated."

"Ahh. I never got that far. I was more interested in earning money than sitting in classrooms."

"What do you do?"

"I..I sell things. Scrap metal mostly." I didn't even know if that was a real thing, but he didn't seem dishonest. "I do a lot of things. God, this wet grass feels so good under my feet. It feels like freedom."

"You do some time?" God, that was too abrupt and too rude.

"Oh sure. Who hasn't?" I then noticed the security ankle bracelet he was wearing. "I'm Jorge (pronounced 'hor-hay') by the way."

"David. It's really good to finally meet you."

"If you need some extra money, I could pay you to help me get this place cleaned up. The garage is full of shit." I already knew that.

"Well I work as a manager at Food World, but I've got three days off now. My dad's mower won't be able to cut all those tall weeds, but I can help you find you somebody who can.

"I know plenty of amigos who can handle the yard. I need help with the garage and the basement. We can start as soon as you're ready." 

"Whenever, Jorge." I wondered if that was even his real name.

"First things first. I always need to get stoned before I start the day. You smoke?"

"Oh yeah." Total lie. 

"Good. I can pay you in weed or money -- whatever works best for you. It's good shit." 

"Weed is good," I said in a fake voice. It would be the pinnacle of my teen rebellion. My dad would be so enraged.

"OK. This stuff is a little damp so it's hard to keep lit." I had zero idea what it felt like to be high. Maybe I could fake it. Jorge used intense concentration to light the 'fatty' (what he called it). He huffed and breathed in deeply and noisily. Like a viper hissing. I imitated his moves and noises, but didn't actually inhale too much. The taste reminded me of the incense they burned in the bookstore I went to sometimes. Jorge didn't buy it. "No. I should have known you didn't smoke. I met your papa the other day and he would probably murder you if you smoked pot."

"You met him?"

"Yes. I was outside enjoying the fresh air when I saw him walking to his big car. I saluted him, but he frowned and looked away."

"Shit. You're not supposed to salute an officer unless you're in the service as well."

"I don't think he likes my skin color either." God, this guy had some intuition about people. Maybe he honed that skill in prison. He continued to exhale his clouds as I stood there like a six-year old holding a yo-yo. "So he's a captain or a general or something?"

"Something like that. I have never cared enough to listen to him talk about his job."

"That must be something....a dad like him with a son like you." I did and didn't know what he meant by that. I'd tried as best I could to butch up and make my voice deeper, but my gay vibe must be broadcasting anyway. Really nice, kind people act like they don't notice, but I know they do,

"He's pretty much a monster...and my mom is a walking corpse most of the time. I don't think either of them has ever hugged me. We're basically just roommates."

"Never hugged? That sucks. My pop was a drunk, but mama loved me to death. I hate that you don't know what that feels like." And then he reached around me and hugged me. His tatted-up arms were strong and his chest felt so warm. I had no words. He stepped back and looked me in the eye. "Now you have been hugged,David."

I tried to say 'Thank You', but all that came out was "Thaaaa..."

"You ever shotgun?" Fuck. He was talking about guns now. "Since you don't know how to smoke, I'll do it for you." He inhaled deeply from the fatty and planted his lips directly on mine. Was it my gayness that caused me to open my mouth and put a hand on his back? "Breathe in as deep as if you were about to go underwater." Okay. I understood now. But we had kissed  in the technical sense of the word. "Better, yes?" 

"I don't feel high." 

"You will. One more time?" I nodded. We repeated that magic moment and I held him a little closer. I could kiss this little man forever. 

"I think I'm feeling it now." Or was I? Was this like Nyquil where you had to wait a half hour before you felt it?

"Good. I need to take a whiz and then we'll tackle the garage." He wandered a little ways into the tall weeds and let his shorts drop to his ankles -- as if just pulling down the front would have taken more effort. Whatever. I a least got to see his tiny brown butt ...nude. I'd usually kept all my jack-off fantasies on the idea of a big, hard penis. It had never occurred to me to appreciate the male ass for the beautiful thing it was. Wow. He turned his head around and seemed pleased that I was watching. He knew exactly what he was doing - and so did I. I'm glad my t-shirt was so baggy and hanging low because I had a wicked erection. 

"OK. I'll open up the door and let the dust out a little, scare the spiders away." He was all business now. It made me feel a little better that he knew what to do because I was floating and listening to all the neurons in my brain firing randomly. So this is what pot did. I felt weak and sleepy. And hungry. I couldn't go back on my word and go home for a nap now. I had to remember how my normal David self acted. I think I got the walking down pretty good, but didn't dare say a word out loud. Too chancy. 

"It has an automatic door opener, but that fat bitch didn't give me the remote. It's no big deal, though." He squatted and lifted the door effortlessly. I saw the muscles in his back work. He had to have lifted weights while locked up. There probably wasn't much else to do there. Dust and old smells came rushing out the opening. I'm sure Gus's daughter had sold anything of value in there...despite the monster snakes. I either told Jorge or thought about telling him to be careful. Wonderful midday sun streamed in and shined upon stuff that probably hadn't seen light in over a decade. 

Holy Hell! There were so many cardboard boxes and random tools...all covered with years of dust. Buckets, crates and about two billion paint cans. "Shit, Jorge. How are we going to clear this out and get rid of it?" 

"Just put all the useless shit in the driveway for now. I have a guy coming to haul it off." I could have been a good boy scout and told him that a lot of the stuff in here couldn't go to the regular dump because it was classified as 'toxic'. I kept quiet. I was amazed that he's come inside this squalid crypt barefoot.

"You should probably put some shoes on, man. There's nails and other sharp crap on the floor."

"Yes. I think I'll put on some long jeans and a shirt too. Why don't you go home real quick and change into your crummiest clothes and we can start." I hurried home and found Mom vacuuming without really looking at the floor. She was lost to her private,sad thoughts. My rattiest jeans had holes at the knees and other bare spots developing on the butt. I found some old high-tops that had seen better days, and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Gloves? It would probably be a good idea to find some work gloves, but I wanted to get back to Jorge as soon as possible. 

"Hello?" He wasn't in the garage. I'd wait. He didn't seem the type to fuss with changing clothes. After a few minutes of me just standing there and remembering stuff. Maybe Jorge had left for some reason. I decided to get started with the massive stacks of paint cans. They didn't slosh at all -- mainly because they had aged into solid rock. When they were finally all out and stacked in the driveway, I decided to start in on the cardboard boxes. I found old newspapers and magazines and tons of random receipts. One of them was full of old photographs. Many of them were of a young girl in a party dress or sitting atop a pony or at some amusement park. Was this that bitch daughter of his? He'd put them here among the trash which was where she belonged. They probably had a falling-out at some point. Gus was too good and kind, but even people like that know when to throw out a piece of rotten fruit. Just as I picked up the final box, the king of snakes whipped by me. Bull Snake. He or she had been keeping mice out of this place for a long time. I watched the snake wriggle out into the front yard. So long.

After sifting out tools (some of them looked like they'd never been used) that I thought Jorge might find useful, I was feeling a little dehydrated. I needed water and needed to release water at the same time. Was he ever coming back? What time was it? I started to get a little pissed-off. There was a door from the garage to the house and I wondered if it was unlocked. It was. I was now back in Mr. Murphy's kitchen where I'd seen him die. I'd get a glass of water and pee in the sink if I had to. Then I'd go home. Fuck this.

The TV was on and the air was fragrant with weed smoke. He'd been in here the whole time. I had every right to find him and ask what the hell was going on. There was Jorge, completely naked and passed out on the couch in a sitting position with his feet up on the coffee table. Goddammit. I would have been more angry except that now I had a chance to see him nude. He was muscular and compact. His dick was impressively fat and uncut. I'd only ever seen one or two penises that had extra skin like that. Two Hispanic kids in my gym class had been left intact as nature intended. I got a chance to study the tattoos up close. There were some weird symbols and random Spanish words. Damned if I knew what they meant because I'd taken French instead of Spanish in school. My dad hated French people as well as anything or anyone European. One of the tats said 'Property of V.L.P'. 

The TV was showing some bizarre game show where people were pulling levers and trying to get a good poker hand on a big video screen. I sat carefully on the couch and watched because I knew a lot about poker from all the shady pals I'd made over the last few years. Jorge muttered and snored. Next to his left foot was a half-smoked joint in an ashtray. I had my own lighter and so I snagged it and lit up. I had a better idea how to smoke this on my own now. I remembered that I had some days off, and it felt good to relax a little. I kept inhaling and exhaling my clouds. The TV wasn't all that big, but it filled my eyes. I picked a player to root against which is what my dad always did during 'Wheel of Fortune'. He usually wanted a minority to lose. I was practically inside of the show when it went to commercial for margarine. They showed a promo for the five o'clock news that ended with 'coming up next'. Dad would be home soon. It was that late already? 

Jorge was still sleeping soundly. I took the opportunity to study more of his tats. There was plus sign on his shoulder that I hadn't seen before. My stupid brain thought it meant he was optimistic and thought positive thoughts. I'd ask later. Would he wake up if I just barely touched that big dick of his? I couldn't stop my fingers. It reminded of the bull snake in a way. It seemed to react to my finger. Was I way stoned or did it jump a little? What if I touched it with my mouth? He was very obviously still deeply asleep. I knelt on the floor and moved my mouth over to his groin. I kissed all that extra skin. The thing moved again. Maybe he'd appreciate this. So I put the whole end of his penis into my mouth. The dick got harder and heavier on my tongue. I looked up and saw that his eyes were still shut. I was plum amazed at the flavors I tasted...a trace of soap, sweat, pot and a few other things I couldn't name. I moved on down the shaft and involuntarily gagged a bit. I hoped the sound from my throat didn't wake him, but didn't check. He sounded as if he were dreaming. "Si. Si.", "So nice.", "Don't stop now." I would take advantage of him and earn my pay for an afternoon of hard work. I badly wanted to make him to ejaculate and thought I could coax it out with my mouth. Did I want that? Did I really want a man's semen in my mouth? I'd deal with that if and when the time came. I worked the length of his dick I knew I could handle comfortably and used my mouth like it was a masturbating hand. Yeah...I wanted his dick so much -- and everything that came out of it. 

"No. Stop, David." Shit! He was awake. I pulled away immediately like I'd been caught stealing. I felt so embarrassed and guilty. I still had all my clothes on and could just make a run out the front door. Would he kill me? Tell my dad?

"Bye. The garage is half empty now."

He seemed shocked and disappointed. "Leaving? Why? That was fun."

"I..I..." I had no words left.

"Please don't go. I'll get us a few beers and even make dinner if you want." I stood there and watched his hard dick bob up and down as he yawned and stretched. At that very second, there was the sound of a car door closing nearby. Dad was home. He'd be walking in the door and asking Mom where I was. She'd stand there mutely as he went upstairs to change, radiating oppressive vibes throughout the whole house. I still couldn't make words, but I did sit down as Jorge got up and went into the kitchen.  His boner had lost a little of its heft. "You really did half the job already? Wow. I'm sorry I left you alone. I am a pig sometimes." He returned with two bottles of cold 'Corona'. 

"You were probably just tired from moving in. My family has moved several times and it can be stressful."

"Poor kid. I owe you overtime pay and a bonus. We'll work that out in a little while. Maybe cream? You want my cream, yes?"

I almost didn't know what he meant. But. OK. "Whatever you think is fair."

"Life is not fair. I'm an expert, kid." He took a long pull from his beer and put his bare feet back on the little table. I noticed the ankle bracelet again. He must be on parole or probation or something.

"What did you do, Jorge?"

"Many things, many bad things. Remember how you told me that you don't salute an officer if you're not in the military? It's like that with us, too. You don't ever ask that question unless you've done time as well." I'd never heard that.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, man. I'll just tell you that I never killed anyone. More details later."

"Again -- I'm sorry. The biggest snake in the world is now out of your garage,"

"How big?"

"BIG. Like maybe six and a half feet long. He might have some friends in there, but I doubt it. Snakes are pretty much loners."

"Good, good. So you came in for a break and decided to suck my dick?"

"No. I... I don't know. I just...."

"Hush. I know. I been locked up long enough to know that gay guys love cock. I might be gay even, but never really had much of a chance to find out. Not two days after I got to prison, I was raped in the ass. Little guys like me are hot property behind bars. I was owned by a guy named "Virgo" for awhile. I worked out to compensate for my little size and only the biggest guys bothered me."

"..." I thought about how hard his life had been.

"I never had a girlfriend or a boyfriend...or went on a date." I noticed he had moved his hand down to his crotch. His stare was intimidating.

"What happened to Virgo?"

"He got real sick and was moved to the floor where they keep sick people. Lot of AIDS there. He might be dead for all I know." I don't know how he managed a full boner while saying all that, but he did.

"Do you hate him?"

"Oh yes. I wanted to make him hurt the way he made me hurt. I wanted to destroy him, get revenge." His boner got a bit more red and longer. 

"I'm here anytime, Jorge." That wasn't what I meant to say, but I was still the slightest bit off my verbal game.

"Si. You're here now. Leave this room and come in again. Take your shoes off. Socks too." I was wondering if he had the AIDS virus too, but it was kinda late to ask that now. I took a few deep breaths and returned to the living room. There was Jorge, completely nude and hard  -- with dark sunglasses on now. I padded closer to him until he said "Stop."

"Fresh meat! You are about to be owned. Any idea what that means, asshole?"

I didn't. Or maybe I did. My mind was no longer clouded with weed, and I should have been able to say something.

"ANSWER ME!"

"No,Sir. I do not. I'm sorry."

"Save it. I guess I'll just have to show you. Stand still." I wondered what the fuck I'd gotten into. He stepped up right to me, and even though he was shorter than me, he seemed huge and intimidating. I could feel heat radiating from him. His strong hands groped me in very impolite ways and his fat little fingers worked their way through some of the threadbare places on my old jeans. He seemed especially interested in the hole that had almost developed over the crack of my ass. Oh hell. I should have guessed what he wanted:  Prison Sex. And revenge. He was being a little too rough for a reason. 

I guess I'd asked for it. Jorge had found his way through the hole in the denim covering my butt.  I hadn't put on underwear that morning and his stubby finger found its way right to my puckered hole. He pushed it in and I protested a little. Too soon. Too much. "Shut the fuck up! You'll wake up the whole block!" He was in the middle of his own private revenge fantasy. The fantasy I wanted to give him. But he was different now. He was an angry inmate all of the sudden.

I'd play it by ear. "No! STOP! Don't!"

"Shut up, New Meat!" He pulled my pants all the way down and started probing my ass with the wet head of his cock. He was going to put that fat thing of his inside of my body. Through the butt. Whoa. He spit on his erection  and inserted it right through that opening down there. GODDAMN! It hurt and I screamed loudly. He could have gone into my nostril and it wouldn't have hurt like this. "Scream again and I'll snap your neck. Shut up and get used to it." He might have been lost in anger, but he did make an effort to go slower and easier. He was coming down from his anger just a little, straddling two realities. My lips kept shut tight and stifled the yelps. He pumped in and out and said some harsh words in Spanish. He and I were in different places. "I'm gonna give you your bonus now, David. Ready?" I wasn't Virgo anymore. He had gotten that part done with the initial ritual of insults and pain. "You wanted my cream! You wanted thi...FUCK!" He convulsed on my back as I was bent over in Mr. Murphy's old living room. He'd cum inside of me...this tattooed ex-con with who-knows-what in his bloodstream had just put his unsheathed dick up my ass and spurted his DNA all the way up into my guts. I didn't have a boner at this point, but felt satisfied nonetheless. How does that even work? I felt stupid that I hadn't also ejaculated. Would Jorge be mad?

"Thank you." Did I really just say that? I felt like a kid.

"No," he panted. "That went too far. Fuck. I'm so sorry, David."

"Just far enough, Jorge."'

"You think that now, but you'll regret that I violated your body the way I did."

"Future and time are just concepts. I'm happy now."

He was still naked and his dick looked used and streaked with my blood. "OK. I appreciate the work you did today. Go home and sleep now. If you feel like it, we can do the rest of the garage tomorrow...and I won't bail on you again. Promise."

"Cool. See you soon."

I was fully undressed and alone in my bed when I let myself think that I'd maybe been infected with AIDS. No amount of Flintstones vitamin could change that. I just wanted too see him again. I wasn't high anymore and don't think I'd ever opened the single beer he'd given me. Where was my usual panic and dread? I was almost always anxious about one thing or another. but not now. Not tonight. As soon as I discovered that this foreign peace was easily settling over my bones, sleep snuck in and I was gone. Dreaming..., and ready to go back for more. I would have too, but he was gone by the next morning. At the breakfast table, Dad said "Well the cops came and picked up that little slime-ball next door. He was cuffed and hauled away."

"For what?"

"Damned if I know. Scum like that can't seem to keep out of prison once they've been in. It's probably easier to live off tax dollars than to go out and get a real job."

I'd finally moved out and gotten my own place by the end of Summer. It wasn't much, but it was better than being around my dad. I kept asking shady-looking people if they knew anything about Jorge, but he'd simply vanished. I didn't know his last name. I came down with a really intense flu in August. My dad - who never had any sympathy for anyone - was alarmed enough to take me to the emergency room after my fever spiked and I couldn't get out of bed. I found Jorge at last...inside of me.

[evilqueerpig]

If there will be another chapter, I suggest David move into the Murphy house so Toon can continue this in his usual masterful way!

[bjbottom]

Wish I had a neighbor like Jorge who would feed me his cock and cum after we got high.

[hrbigbelly]

Great story Toon but David should have said give me more lol.