Far-L

Anyone who has met me and my brother knows that we are so opposite but same in so many ways. Like Godzilla and King Kong we might be different animals but both still monsters capable of mass destruction. And when you talk to someone that works for us, some who have been with us almost 15 years, then you learn that carnage and total annihilation would be more accurate.

I guess we have over the years done some very messed up things to each other. I used to stare at him with crazy eyes and fiendish grin then jab my thumb into his ice cream. He once had an old driver's license of mine which he gave to the cops because him and his frat friends were up to some ridulous prank. (Too depraved to recount - this frat was later kicked off campus for all eternity) Luckily, I finally got them to drop the warrant for my arrest. Some of these gaffs would result in battles. You could always tell where we had thrown each other through a wall in our old office by where the pictures were hung.

So when I asked him to use his place as a location he said "No" emphatically enough but just not enough times because finally I ground that and sculpted it and turned it into a "yes". And I might have heard his caveat but I am not sure since my head was already out the door and all my focus already drawn to getting the job done... and done right!

The shoot involved a lackluster studlet named Tim who always is breaking back into the business as talent because he managed to convince some model that she had to work with him alone. I knew from previous experience that pulling off an interesting scene with him doing the lumberjacking was going to be all kindling and no yule logs if you know what I mean.

The order of the day is to shoot a cream pie scene. Things are going ok. Tepid but not cold enough to be dead and he was la dee da dee da boning along as bored and boring as if he was just masturbating on the toilet. Then he stopped.

We waited.

And waited.

No Cream Pie.

We went inside the house and hit the kitchen and bathrooms to try and figure out something that would work for fake cum. I think we ended up with some combination of food and soap that did the trick. Now for the sake of time and energy which as we all know is money, money, money I had her lay down on the kitchen table so we could just get the shots and finally call it a day.

I think I might have remembered at this point the faint point moffitt had made, like "don't do anything on the furniture" or something like that. But the glass is either half empty or half full; for example that could've have been real cum and not fake cum. If we stayed outside any longer his neighbors might have called the cops... which means I didn't have to give them his ID

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