TWO BOYS LAY together on dry, yellow grass in the skeletal shade of a dying oak tree. Both were half-naked; one clad in cutoffs, ragged and dirty, with a toe poking through a hole in his Nikes. The other worse wash-faded Levi's, and his Nikes were newer, though shapeless and squashed with the soles almost gone. White makes their age would never have lain down together that way... like children or brothers... and that made these two look savage and wild. One was the color of old city soot or the satiny shade of brand-new truck tires. And he wasn't just fat, he looked almost helpless flat on his back; a small-boned boy buried in a huge, sloppy mass of black blubber. His jeans couldn't be buttoned more than halfway, and had slipped down his thighs so his butt was sunk bare in the grass. A band of bright sunlight striped over his middle, and another boy's dick might have stirred in its warmth, but lay unseen in the shade of his belly. Excerpt from the highly recommended Six Out Seven by Jess Mowry. Images: the photography of Jorge Freire. Model: Angel Gonzalez.
by KAOS on February 07, 2009