# Bonus alt text for https://a-grass.neocities.org/images/weenie_boy.png

Larry sits straddling Tuddrussel cowgirl style, his expression feigning fakeass faux-innocence as if he doesn't binge read Jackie Collins on the reg, limp wrist resting frivolous, deliberate, against the side of his mouth. OK WHORE. It is dark, an almost hazy purple, and Larry's biolights are the only thing illuminating their immediate surroundings. A soft, dreamy blue hue runs up his form, from his crotch area up to his chest panel, to glowy half-lidded eyes.

The biolights emanating from his penis is a similar blue, tinged with a warm pink glow if you care to look closer. It dims in and out in delayed-sync with Larry's degree of arousal, a fun engineering detail. It's the brightest thing in the room right now, plump, very erect, and gently leaking some sort of fluid lubricant. It is beading at the tip, sending out little strands and droplets onto Tuddrussel's stomach with every other bounce.

Tuddrussel is mad dazed that Larry is all up on him in a MICRO G-STRING under a damn tutu, squealing like a bitch, straight DROPPIN it on his beer can cock. Shit'll make a motherfucker see stars. The faint pulsing glimmer reflected in the smatterings across his body borders on hypnotic. He can't help but lay back and admire the image of sin before him (riding his dick no less). Buck swears even pussy don't feel this good.