Chapter 100

“Five?” Mr. Vasquez asks. At his crotch, Ryan’s watching him with large eyes, watching the way his cheeks grow slack, his eyes dull with lust, his lips part and his jaw bunches. When he doesn’t answer, Mr. Vasquez amends, “Five thirty? What time is good for you?”

“Five’s okay,” Dante sighs. “Five thirty. Yeah, okay. Sure.”

Ryan lets his dick slip from his mouth, blows along the wet length, kneads the hard shaft and whispers, “Tell him you have to go.”

“I have to go,” Dante says, his voice almost mechanical. “Five thirty. Thanks again.”