Edge Walking. Chap 12: Three Point Shooting
#12 of Edge Walking
"Edge Walking"
By: Cauldron O Boyfur
Notes and Warnings: Chapter 12 of "Edge Walking" takes place pretty much the moment Chapter 11 came to a close. It is the same night, no real difference in time whatsoever. I can't give the reader a good excuse as to why I didn't just combine the two chapters into one, except to say that as a reader I generally prefer reading stories on yiffstar that aren't dramatically long, so I guess that's the same approach I take to writing as well.
Speaking of time, I should mention that even though it is now November as I am sitting here typing, all the past chapters in "Edge Walking", up to and including this one, take place in August. I'm sorry I failed in providing you, the reader, with a definite time of year when this series is taking place. I'll try to rectify such a mistake in later chapters by giving months and seasons and whatnot.
Chapter 12 does contain a nice slab of yif. Specifically, it features a male threesome, so if that doesn't float your boat then I'd suggest not continuing to read this chapter. Also not to be read by anyone under the age of eighteen, blah, blah, blah...
Again, as said in pretty much every other chapter, the "Cha-Ching" Gentleman's Club and Cocktail Lounge is not a real business establishment, nor is it meant to portray and particular company or place of business. There is also a mentioning of Katztown University. This is not a real university, although it just may be hinting at a certain Pennsylvania based college that I used to attend *wink wink*.
Chapter 12: Three Point Shooting
Characters (roughly in order of appearance):
Jamie: 16 year old bunny. Male.
Trixie: 28 year old tabby cat. Transvestite.
Sheila: 21 year old calico cat. Female.
Robbie: 21 year old fox. Male.
Carwyn: 22 year old fox. Male.
Stan: 19 year old otter. Male.
Nikodim: 46 year old grey wolf. Male.
Jamie was aware that Carwyn, Sheila, Stan, and Nikodim were all put off by Trixie's behavior, a behavior which Carwyn didn't hesitate to inform Jamie was overly dramatic and on the borderline of scathing. So, when following Sheila behind the bar and meeting the tabby (donned in makeup and glittered black evening gown), Jamie was prepared for whatever unsavory comment came out from the tabby's lipsticked mouth.
"Bitch." That was the first word Trixie fired at Sheila. As with most drag queens, his voice was like that of a woman going through lifelong PMS. He continued, "You little bitch. Think you could be any later?"
"Nice to see you too, Trix," a sarcastic Sheila told the other feline.
As the crossdresser shook up a gin martini, Jamie could hear mumbling and tawdry groaning. Trixie was expressing his dissatisfaction with the "Cha-Ching" staff, saying stuff under his breath yet loudly enough for his two tardy coworkers to hear. "Pffft. Can't catch a friggin break. No god damn consideration, not a shred of courtesy."
Handing the coned glass to the bear who ordered the drink, Trixie then put his hands on his hips, his eyes shooting a glare at Sheila. "Well?," he said in a voice like he was expecting an answer to an obvious question.
"Well, what?," the girl questioned back.
"Why the lateness?"
Unable to look at the drag queen any longer, Sheila looked down to her cottontailed friend, shaking her head at Jamie with body language saying 'I know you think he's a jackass, and you're absolutely right.'
With a sigh and a pointed finger, Sheila turned back to Trixie, answering, "Lookie here now. We were on time. Nik just had to fill us in longer than normally, so if you've got any problems, take it up with him."
A snicker came from Trixie. "Yeah, sure. Like you weren't fuckin around with Stan back there. I guess it's OK though, seeing as how I'm out here, working paw and foot by myself, doing your job for you."
"You poor little martyr," Sheila said with fake sympathy. "Anyways, yes, we were screwing around with Stan. Part of the process of introducing him to Jamie." It then occurred to Sheila that she hadn't formally introduced Jamie and Trixie to each other. "And by the way, this is Jamie." She put her arm around the bunny. "Jamie, that there is Trixie."
Nervousness crept into Jamie. He failed to say 'hello' but managed in lifting up his paw lightly, giving a slight wave to cat in drag.
No such greeting was given in return. Instead a slight smile came out of Trixie, saying, "So, this is the bunny boy Nik's been bragging about. Strange, Nik made you sound like the most beautiful bunny in the world. Gotta get those eyes of his checked. I've known cuter."
"That's real nice dickwad," Sheila sniped in defense of her shy friend. "You're such a jealous asshole. You know Jamie's hotter than you'll ever be, and soon he'll be pulling in more money than you'll muster in a million lifetimes."
A laugh was given by the tabby, a means of saying that he had no such worry. Jamie, however, picked up a tint of unsteadiness in Trixie's chuckle, an undercurrent of concern that the girl could actually be correct in her assessment of Jamie stealing the establishment's top earner spot from him.
Whenever Jamie found that he was averse to a certain fur, it made him feel somewhat guilty. As if he didn't have an open mind when it came to others who were vastly different from himself. He even felt ashamed about the abhorrence he had towards his stepfather, who made a habit of insulting the teenager and abusing his mom. But there was no guilt to be found in the fact that after knowing Trixie for a only a minute or so, he didn't like the drag queen even a bit. The pomposity and arrogance which Carwyn had claimed Trixie to have wasn't an exaggeration.
"Hey, somebody." It was a customer. "Can any of you get me a scotch on the rocks?"
"Your job, not mine," Trixie said to Sheila.
"I know. Now buzz off."
"Fine, fine," Trixie said, his hands up in the air like he was being yelled at unjustly. Again, he employed his martyr complex when saying, "Should've know better than to get a thanks for covering for you. No, not me. Nobody ever thanks Trixie."
Trixie commandeered himself past Sheila and Jamie, moving out of the bar to have a word with a few of the regular patrons. Sheila went on with her duty as bartender, asking the customer, "Scotch on the rocks, right?"
"Yeah," he responded.
Sheila tapped Jamie's shoulder before reaching down, under the bar, to grab a bottle of Dewars. "Now," she addressed her coworker, "we're gonna learn the ropes of mixology."
"Um, OK," Jamie said with nerves now making themselves known. This was the sign that his bartending job had officially begun.
Nearly three quarters of an hour had gone by. Jamie would've been lying to himself if he claimed his confidence to be building. Even under Sheila's guidance, the teenager had already been the recipient of two complaints (one customer protesting that the Guinness he poured from a tap was all foam, and another decreeing there to be a lack of vermouth in his martini). "You'll learn," the calico reassured him on each mistake, in attempt of prohibiting the fragile psyche of Jamie from breaking apart. Jamie wasn't sure that his optimistic friend was correct, his overwhelming negativity saying that he'd never learn.
It was while being instructed on how to concoct a Tom Collins that a fox came up to the bar, placing himself in front of Sheila and Jamie. The fox seemed to be in similar age to Carwyn, though his height was more substantial than the foxy friend Jamie knew well. It wouldn't have surprised Jamie to learn that this fox's height surpassed that of Nikodim, or most wolves for that matter. In terms of body figure, he was very lanky, not a trace of fat on him, including his face which featured chiseled cheekbones and jaw. The clothing he wore heavily suggested that he was a college student who attended Katztown University and was full of school spirit. A loose, low neck, sleeveless maroon basketball shirt with gold letters proclaiming KATZTOWN was worn over a plain white t-shirt. Both shirts were tucked into a matching pair of loose, maroon basketball shorts, again with the word KATZTOWN scribed in gold on the bottom left leg opening.
Obviously, Sheila knew the individual, her face lighting up upon seeing him stroll forth. She was the first to speak, "Yo, Robbie! Long time, no see."
"Yo, Sheila babe," he smiled with a voice straight from the inner city. "How's the "Ching" been bumpin' the last foe weeks?"
Before answering his question, Sheila gave Jamie a final instruction for the mix drink he was working on, "It needs a lime wedge on the lip." Attention was then focused back on the fox, "Good, good. Everything's been going good. We just got a newbie here." She motioned to Jamie, who was handing the Tom Collins to a customer. "Name's Jamie. Yes, I know he's cute, and no, he's not available yet," she informed the fox as if already anticipating the tall canine to ask for a sexual appointment with the long eared boy.
With eyes glossing over the tight black short shorts of Jamie, Robbie gave a small whistle of approval. "Hot damn, yo. He be wicked hot!," he said of Jamie, who could no doubt hear the compliment. "But I already gots sumpin set up anyways." When saying that, he reached into the shallow pocket of his basketball shorts, pulling out a purple slip, and turning it so that Sheila could read it.
Without even looking at the slip, the calico shook her head from side to side. "C'mon, Robbie, you don't need to show me that. Your company's good enough to head back whenever you want. Now get your ass to the back room while you're still up for fucking." The two of them laughed.
A few minutes prior, Sheila had informed Jamie that Nikodim gave out purple slips to johns which verified sexual appointment times as well as which "dancers" would be involved in the act. Unless a fur possessed such a slip, or asked both the bartender and bouncer to set up an appointment with Nikodim, then he had no business being in the back room.
Now noticeably more excited, Robbie said, "Thanks Sheila babe. Good seein ya." Turning to Jamie he added, "And nice meetin' youz." A shy Jamie could only give a smile before the patron turned to his left and made his way through a crowd of furs (who were eagerly awaiting a drag performance by the ever popular Trixie), to the back door which lead to Nikodim's office, the kitchen, and the upstairs (which Jamie still hadn't seen, nor knew what was utilized for). Robbie went through the other side.
The exchange was made in Nikodim's office. One hundred and fifty dollars shoveled out by Robbie for the bedroom services of Carwyn and Stan. Before departing the office, Nikodim placed a key in Stan's right paw. It was imprinted only with a mark of "1".
Even while walking to the bedroom, Robbie was sandwiched between the two strippers; Carwyn (whose green thong was barely visible when viewed from the rear) in front, speedo clad Stan behind. The trio took a left out of Nikodim's office, leading them away from the bustling bar, towards the kitchen. Before they hit the seldom used cooking room, they made a one eighty degree turn, heading up the staircase which wrapped back around.
Making their way upstairs, Robbie could only stare at the perfectly sculpted backside of his fellow fox. Little did he know, Stan was undressing Robbie with his imagination (not that Robbie would mind in the least), despite the fact that they'd all be in the buff quite shortly.
"Stan, what room are we in?," asked Carwyn.
"Numero uno," answered the short otter.
Up the stairs, three doors (each numbered 1, 2, and 3) lined the hallway, with a fourth at the hall's end straight ahead. The three numbered rooms were where events transpired which generated a high chunk of the total revenue obtained by the "Cha-Ching" Gentleman's Club and Cocktail Lounge. Three bedrooms. Three realms of fantasy and ecstasy, where those working for Nikodim fulfilled desires of clientele who paid Nikodim for taboo and technically unlawful services. The fourth door, unmarked, was the bedroom of the grey wolf who owned the establishment, which also happened to be his house.
First door on the left was where Nikodim had ascribed the bordello to be at that moment. Stan unlocked the room and cracked the door open.
Initially, the most noticeable aspect of the room lay in its scent. It didn't smell like sex in the least. White sheets on the bed smelled more like a swimming pool than anything, due to the chlorine from double bleaching after each use. Brown carpets smelled like febreeze. Being a business establishment, sanitation was a top priority for Nikodim and his crew. In fact, these rooms used for sex were a heck of a lot cleaner than the overwhelmingly large majority of bedrooms in the city of Phurrydelphia (which many residents oh-so-lovingly referred to as Philthydelphia due to its being a gutter of a city).
There was little else to this simple room. Bed of white, carpets colored like chocolate, walls of sienna. By the foot of the bed, a foot-high trash bin sat, open mouth waiting to devour used condoms, condom wrappers, paper towels, or any other disposable item or instrument which would be used in the act. The plastic liner wouldn't remain stationary for long; it was changed after each appointment. The only other piece of room decor was a nightstand by the head of the bed, its pull out shelves housing an impressive and sometimes frightening array of sex toys. Dildos and anal plugs of varying sizes and styles, handcuffs, gags, horse bridles, whips, water based lubricant (never petroleum jelly, for it was a rule that all anal and/or vaginal intercourse be partaken with the aid of a condom), condoms, paper towels for cleanup, and an eclectic cornucopia of other seedy instruments were nestled within those drawers. Like everything else in the room, they were well sterilized after each use, although that fact wouldn't matter in this particular scenario. Robbie wasn't interested in using foreign objects in the act. Real penis was all the college student needed to sate his lust.
Entering the room, Carwyn got right down to business, popping a most important question, "So, Robbie, how do you want us positioned? You want Stan and I to give it to you like we normally do it?"
Robbie sat on the bed. While removing his shoes, he answered, "Yeah, that be cool. But if y'all don't mind, before we get this here started, I wanna have us cuddlin' and talkin' first. You know, like, since we gots us a whole hour." He'd payed extra money for extra time, exactly for this reason. And it wasn't unusual of Robbie. When he wasn't living away at college, he stayed at home with his parents only a few blocks away. During these times of living at home, Robbie was a normal patron of the "Cha-Ching" and all of its services. Nearly every time he rendezvoused with Stan and Carwyn, he liked to begin things by cuddling and making chit chat. In some ways, Robbie treated the appointment like a visit to the shrink as much as a sexual escapade, knowing that he could divulge his innermost secrets to the two gay prostitutes without fear of them being close-minded.
Unburdening the basketball shorts from his long, thin legs, Robbie lounged back in the center of the bed, now in a pair of black briefs. He still had the basketball shirt on, with the white t-shirt underneath. Carwyn and Stan each crawled onto the bed from opposing sides, sandwiching their client between them.
Robbie lay straight on his back as one would when being outside on a warm summer's day just watching the clouds in the sky rolling by. His paws were behind his head, while looking up to the ceiling and divulging what was new in his life to the two prostitutes on either side of him. Both Carwyn and Stan were laying on their sides, both turned towards the tall fox, both of their paws busy touching Robbie all over his body as he spoke. For the most part, Carwyn's paw was slipped underneath and up Robbie's shirt, rubbing on the orange chest fur of the skinny fox, feeling both taut muscles and slightly protruding ribcage (no fat). On the other side, Stan was busy touching the more personal regions of Robbie's body; brown paws of the otter massaging his inner thighs, groin, occasionally sneaking their way up to the bulge in the college boy's black undies, where a semi-rigid cock was waking underneath the cotton fabric.
All the while Robbie talked. He talked about both his nervousness and his excitement about going back to college at Katztown and how, even though he generally had a good time there, he would usually begin missing his parents within a month's time, making him susceptible to homesickness. He talked about how excited he was for the basketball season to start again. He also talked about how being the team's starting point guard put quite a burden on his boney shoulders and how he had to get back to just having fun while playing and not scrutinizing his own performance as often as he did. He went on talking about how attracted he was to his teammates, all of whom were wolves (most basketball players were wolves, being generally taller and more athletic than most other species). How he would always sneak peeks at them in the locker room and during post game showers. How a couple times he had to hide the erections he got from looking at their naked bodies. How he'd ingrain their nude images into his mind for when he returned to his dorm, where he'd recall those images during masturbation. He talked about friends whom he was thinking about revealing his homosexuality to, being that nobody at school knew the attraction he had towards boys, but also mentioned how potentially disastrous such a revelation could be, especially if word got back to his teammates.
"If they knew I be gay, they all wouldn't be keepin closer tabs on me in the locker room," Robbie began to explain. "Hell no. Not cuz they wouldn't care, but cuz they'd kick my ass off the team. Shit, they'd be breakin my legs if I ever stepped foot in them showers again. God, shit, oh God. They'd be kickin' my gay ass right off the team. I can't imagine my life witout being able ta ball. I'd die. I'd just die." He almost cried when saying it, prompting him to change the subject, where he talked about academics. How for another semester he was getting a full scholarship. How proud of him his parents were, and how he found it funny and heartwarming that even though he was a grown up in college, he'd give them every single one of his tests and exams (all A's) which they'd promptly tack onto the door of the refrigerator. He talked about how much studying he was willing and prepared to do in order to keep his 4.0 average intact and how he hoped to make Dean's List for another semester in his respected major, Biology.
Following the discharge of Robbie's psychological burdens, a minute of silence blanketed the room. Carwyn and Stan, both unsure whether Robbie was ready to spice things up, kept themselves snuggled against the basketball player, like fangirls. Carwyn was breathing deeply, his eyes half closed. Although he eager to have sex with his favorite regular, he was content and engrossed in the serenity of the moment. It was poignantly apparent that Stan was ready to fuck. The front of the otter's blue speedos were being stretched upwards by his five and a half inch cock. The blond otter wasn't the only one with a blood-rich shaft; Robbie, whose erection had been gradually gaining since talking about the fantasies he had about his teammates, was now as hard as he could ever be (a large part of it due to Stan's frisky paw, which was continuously teasing Robbie's manhood by caressing his tight underwear).
The Bio major couldn't restrain his appetite for sex any longer, opting to break the silence. "Well," he chirped, "I guess it's time that we be gettin this on n' stuff." Carwyn and Stan didn't even try hiding their smiles.
Robbie knew that the two dancers were well aware that he enjoyed being submissive. Every time he paid for services at the "Cha-Ching", it was always the same: Carwyn and Stan, one of the two thrusting a cock up Robbie's ass while he sucked the other one off. This would be no exception.
Robbie was the first to get into position, placing himself at the bed's edge. He lay on his back, body still on the mattress except for his head, which hung back, over the side, making the room appear upside down. Stan was moving himself up to where Robbie's spread legs were, when Carwyn objected, "Hey, hey, hey. You fucked him last time. My turn."
Shrugging shoulders like he could care less, Stan replied, "Cool by me. Your loss. Robbie sucks a mean dick." At this, Robbie let off a sheepish chuckle.
The otter hopped off the bed, walking up to the hanging head of Robbie, standing in front of him with waist so close to the tall fox's face that all Robbie could see was the blue nylon and lycra fabric of Stan's swimsuit.
Instead of totally removing his speedo, Stan merely pulled the front of the drawstringed waistband down, having it rest under his nut sack, so that while his cock and balls were exposed, the bathing suit still clung tight to his butt. Robbie opened up his salivating mouth, allowing all of Stan's five and a half incher to enter. Stan gave a sigh of delight, gently moving his hips back and forth, stiff dick feeling nothing less than gratification each time he rocked forward far enough so that his nut sack mushed up against the bridge of Robbie's nose. Granted, the otter didn't have a cock that most would consider massive, nor were his hips pistoning in and out of the fox's mouth at a frantic pace, but even still Robbie took Stan's manhood like a champ. The speedo dancer knew what he was talking about when saying that Robbie could suck a mean dick. Pretty admirable for a young fox who only undertook cock sucking once every few months.
By this point, Carwyn had fished out a condom, lubricant, and a few paper towels from the nightstand. He took off the green thong which had been wedged between his buns for the past few hours, seven inch penis standing rigid and erect. The nude fox snagged the waistband of the taller fox's black undies, peeling them off, uncovering a nine inch dick. Both Carwyn and Stan found it peculiar that even though Robbie was blessed with a manhood well above average length, he elected not to use it during sex, instead playing the role of female. Many would've seen it as a waste of a beautiful dick, but it was what Robbie's heart desired. That was all that really mattered.
The maroon basketball jersey was to be left on. Robbie always insisted on it. He always wore it whenever he paid a visit to the "Cha-Ching" for sex. He couldn't quite put his finger on why he enjoyed wearing it while sucking dick and getting his ass probed. He just liked it. Perhaps it allowed him to simultaneously relish in the two most enjoyable aspects of his life: Boys and Basketball (he still wasn't sure which he loved more).
Carwyn gave his dick a slight pawing to ensure it would remain stiff for at least a few more seconds while removing the condom from its wrapper and unfurling it onto his shaft. Once that was done, he applied a little lube, then pawed off a few more seconds, spreading the jelly around his entire cock. Now all he had to do was wipe the excess lube off his paw with a paper towel and then it was onto Robbie.
On his knees, Carwyn inched himself forward between the spread legs of the taller fox. Taking hold of the back of Robbie's knees, Carwyn lifted the legs up and pushed them back, giving his dick wide open access to Robbie's anus. The basketballer's lanky legs, still up in the air, came to rest on Carwyn's shoulders, putting them in missionary position.
The tip of Carwyn's cock felt it's opening. Easing his hips softly forward, Carwyn entered into Robbie. Even with Stan's dick in his mouth, Robbie let off a moan upon being penetrated. And it wouldn't be the last moan he'd let out through the duration of their union.
The fucking never went buckwild. That didn't suit Robbie's taste. Instead, he opted for delicacy during sex, making the scenario more akin to lovers expressing affection than a cheap fuck. Carwyn played his part in fulfilling such desires, his cock sliding in and out of Robbie with soft fluidity. Carwyn also doubled his duties, not only giving it to Robbie up the rear, but also using his right paw to rub on the point guard's impressive cock.
By this point, Robbie's eyes were tearing, not only from the strain placed on his jaw by cock sucking, but from having his head hanging upside down for so long. It was soon to come to an end though. Stan was on the cusp of cumming, and he made it known. "Guys. I. I. Oh beans, I'm gonna nut."
"Got awn da shurdt," Robbie exclaimed with mouth full of otter meat.
Carwyn, engrossed in the rapture of sex, whispered, "Not on the shirt. Yes, of course. We know that." Robbie always gave the reminder to the duo before they unloaded their cock snot on his face. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain to classmates what cum stains were doing on his basketball jersey.
Stan cringed in euphoria. This was it. He withdrew his dick from Robbie's mouth. He could feel his legs begin to buckle so that he literally had to fight to keep himself standing against such an onslaught of pleasure. His paw barely came into contact with his shaft before semen began spurting out right onto the smiling muzzle of Robbie. After showering Robbie's face in goo, Stan's heavy breathing began to lighten up, now in the post-sex afterglow zone.
"Whew," he exclaimed with cock losing its firmness. "That was quite a dandy little doozy." He went for the paper towels to clean off his cock. Afterwards, they were promptly discarded in the trash bin before having a chance to come into contact with anything else in the room. If Robbie requested, Stan would've been happy to wipe his furry face clean of cum, but Stan knew better. Robbie never like to begin cleanup until all three had discharged.
At this stage, Carwyn could've pumped out his cock chowder at any second's notice, but he held back, opting instead to let Robbie climax first. Carwyn was a master of holding back an orgasm even while still continuing to fuck but it wouldn't be a long wait.
"Awww shit!," Robbie exclaimed. "Damn y'all, I be cummin."
Carwyn could feel the gargantuan schlong in his grasp pulsating. Wedging his own cock as far up Robbie's insides as he could, Carwyn stopped his movements for the moment. This allowed the head of his condom covered cock to actually feel Robbie's prostate going through contractions. From the bulbous head of Robbie's beautifully big cock, the first wave of cum was pumped out, and done so with considerable force. The syrupy fluid even went slightly airborne, unfortunately ending up splattering back down onto the lower region of Robbie's basketball jersey. At least there would be nobody to blame but himself for that mishap.
The next few spurts ran down the shaft like volcano lava, not only covering Robbie's cock but all around it's base, coating some of his nut sack and embedding into his orange pubic hair. It also got pretty much all of Carwyn's paw. The shorter fox was quick with the paper towels, first getting as much cum off Robbie's prized uniform, then wiping off his own paw. Like Stan, he neglected to towel off cum from Robbie's fur. He left it to the basketball player tell them when he felt it was time to be cleaned up. The cum soaked paper towels were handed to Stan, who placed them in the waste basket.
Now, Carwyn was free to let off his load. He resumed thrusting his hips for the moment, but it wouldn't take the ultra-horny fox even a minute's time before dispatching his goo. He gave Robbie warning of his intent. "Get ready Robbie boy, cuz here it comes."
Carwyn gave one big final thrust into Robbie before pulling all of his seven inches out of Robbie's anus. The fox took a quick look at his condom covered penis. It was glistening in the light due to the fluid which blanketed the latex exterior. And Carwyn knew that it wasn't the store bought lubricant which was coating his dick. No, that had rubbed off awhile ago. It was Robbie's inner juices. Juices which were also slightly dribbling from the gaping asshole at his tail's base. Seeing the fellow fox's anal fluids over every millimeter of his boner made Carwyn even hornier, and brought him to orgasm even faster than he'd anticipated.
Quickly, on his knees, Carwyn moved up to the edge of the bed, placing himself near the side of Robbie's head, cock pointed right in his face. He already began cumming. Without hesitation, the condom was ripped from his penis. No rubbing was required for Carwyn. He was in the middle of climaxing.
Only a little bit was discharged within the rubber. Most of Carwyn's semen made it onto Robbie's face, heaped upon the batch which Stan had left before.
Now that the three in the room had emptied their prostate contents, Stan and Carwyn assisted Robbie in wiping away all three cumshots from the fur on his body. All the while, Robbie couldn't help but to be angry at himself over the indelible stain left on his basketball shirt until Stan offered up some advice.
"Dude, don't get too down about this," the otter said. "If anyone asks, just tell them it's a toothpaste stain you got while brushing your teeth. Excuse works for me all the time."
Robbie paused for a second to think about it, before proclaiming, "Damn, Stan. You is a genius!"
Carwyn couldn't hold back a chuckle upon recollecting an incident a few months prior. A moment when he and Stan were in dress suits, looking their sharpest for an elegant dinner at Rib Rack. Right before entering the restaurant, Carwyn had noticed a stain on his friend's suit jacket. He initially believed it to be a cum stain, to which Stan said, "I'll be damned, there is a stain on my jacket isn't there? Actually, you know what, now I remember. I was brushing my teeth earlier and I had a feeling I got some of the toothpaste on me. That's it. It's a toothpaste stain." And Carwyn did believe what his best friend said. Until now.