Hey, Good Buddy

“How old are you, son?” Joe was doing what he could to put on his official face and tone. It was hard for him to do and not laugh, though, with Al standing beside him and pulling on his meat. The young man was mesmerized by Al’s cock. His own staff had come out of the gap in his shorts again and was standing up from his brown bush.

“Twenty.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’ve got ID. There in my wallet, under my T-shirt.”

“It’s OK, I’ll believe you. We can check the ID down at the sheriff’s office.”

“No, please,” the young man moaned. “I didn’t catch any fish.”

“It isn’t about the fish, son,” Joe said with a mock sternness in his voice. “It’s about that there pissing in the stream. Do you know where that water goes that you just pissed in?”

“Down the mountainside?” the young man answered. He sounded like he wasn’t sure. And he sounded like he didn’t know where this was going. He was licking his lips and staring at Al’s cock, though, which had gone full hard in Al’s hand.