The boy’s remainder – from the neck down – lay concealed by sartorial disarray.On the lam from Chicago (see this story), Josh, if smart, should have done nothing to call attention to himself yet could not resist his desire to make a proposition to the attractive hunk. Best was “Always end a sentence with a proposition.”Best because, seated across the aisle, a man of growing interest to Josh looked his way as if entertaining some salacious idea. Gay sex Might make a bet with you – only I don’t recommend it. We don’t want that, now do we?”Rob, who was lazily linked belly-to-back with Josh, his loaded missile shuttling slowly back and forth in the young man’s silo, said, “Guess not.”Slowcum pushed down what rose in his groin while informing them, “An associate in Chicago, if you can believe it, guy name of Ecks, is involved with a secret flesh-trade outfit, out in the countryside, called The Farm. I service wealthy women with gaping snatches.
