A gay story: Beach Bum Pick Up *Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
*Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.
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Brandon Costa lay sprawled out on his cot. The window was open and the box fan was whirring noisily but the room was still uncomfortably warm. He lay dressed in just a pair of faded boxers and debated on stripping the boxers off.
Sweat trickled down his muscular chest. He had no hair on his chest or abdomen so the trickles flowed slowly toward his crotch. His underwear was damp from all the sweat and the waistband was beginning to chafe.
“Hey!” someone said, rousing Brandon from his light slumber.
“Dude, please tell them to do something about the AC, huh?” Brandon begged, not opening his eyes.
“Uh huh. Hey listen, might want put some clothes on; my mom’s here,” the young male voice said.
“Crap,” Brandon complained but pulled on his Gratchley’s High School gym shorts and a tank top.
Mrs. Brown was a pleasant woman and Ronnie’s step-father, Glen Brown was a nice man, a little overbearing, but nice. Ronnie Peters obviously took after the unknown father; Mrs. Brown was a stunning blonde and Ronnie was dark skinned with a wild mop of dark wavy hair.
“Whew! It is hot,” Ronnie agreed after the Browns left.
“So, what position you play? You’re in football, right?” Brandon asked, stripping out of sweat soaked shorts and tank top.
“Hmm? No, no, I uh, I’m a dancer,” Ronnie confessed. “Classical.”
“Huh!” Brandon said, looking at the slightly blushing young man.
“No, I’m not. All right?” Ronnie said defensively. “Just because I dance, I’m not.”
“Didn’t say anything,” Brandon said.
After a long moment, Brandon offered, “But I do understand. I’m a midfielder for the soccer team. The football players all seem to think soccer’s not a real sport so they accuse me of being a faggot. You know, not man enough to be a real football player and shit.”
“That’s some fucked up shit,” Ronnie agreed.
They went over their class schedules and found that they had American History together. They also had English 101, but Ronnie had his classes Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at nine and Brandon had his class Tuesdays and Thursdays at nine thirty. But they would be able to study together. The two fell into an easy friendship.
The fourth day of being roommates, Ronnie was sitting at his desk, studying Statistical Analysis 110 when Brandon returned from taking a tepid shower in an effort to cool down. As he was comfortable with Ronnie’s presence, Brandon simply dropped his towel across the footboard of his cot and lay on his cot, nude.
Ronnie looked over, did a double take, then quipped, “I thought we weren’t allowed to have pets.”
“Huh?” Brandon asked, about to stuff his ear buds into his ears.
“That, that is a snake, right?” Ronnie asked, pointing to Brandon’s long, pale cock.
“Aw, shut up, Peters,” Brandon said, cranking up Yngwie Malmsteen.
Their second Saturday of being roommates, Ronnie needlessly reminded Brandon that they had a three day weekend; Labor Day was that Monday. Scratching his heavy balls, Brandon shrugged his shoulders and reminded Ronnie that they were both broke college students.
“Dude, Swift Falls is right there,” Ronnie said, pointing toward the small town. “Norwill’s bus twelve goes right by there.”
“Yeah?” Brandon mused, then nodded his head. “Yeah, come on.”
Brandon fished around in his drawer and found his Ingalls designer swimsuit. Tucking his cock and balls, Brandon smirked.
The official name of the Mens’ line of Ingalls designs was ‘Ingalls for Him.’ But most people called the line the ‘Ingalls Dingles.’
“Nice bikini,” Ronnie taunted as Brandon liberally coated his pale flesh with sunblock.
“Fuck you, Ballet Boy; says it right on the tag; Ingalls for him,” Brandon smirked, pulling his battered old canvas tennis shoes on.
There was no way Brandon could have afforded the swimsuit; the Ingalls label was sold at Vokine’s in Myndee, Arkansas. The exclusive department store was known to have nothing but the very best and their prices reflected this. So, when Brandon had seen the swimsuit at a yard sale, he grabbed them. He’d also bought a few books and the small reading lamp he’d clipped on the headboard of his cot.
Their student IDs got them half-price tickets for the Number 12 and they settled down in the nearly empty bus for the twenty nine minute bus ride. Once in Swift falls, it was a short walk to the actual waterfall that gave the small Tennessee town its name. The beach of coarse yellow sand was only forty feet wide and two miles long. Looking around, Brandon and Ronnie saw that a few others had decided to spend their Saturday on the narrow strip of beach along the fast moving, shallow river.
From somewhere, Ronnie had scrounged a Frisbee. Brandon and Ronnie began throwing the Frisbee back and forth.
“Teams?” two young men asked, walking up with broad smiles on their faces.
“Yeah,” Ronnie said, introducing himself and Brandon.
“Hey, I’m Doug and this is Rusty,” the smaller of the two young men said.
“All right; I get Doug, hear?” Brandon demanded and was rewarded with a broad smile from Doug.
“By the way, nice Ingalls Dingles there,” Doug complimented, nodding toward Brandon’s swimsuit.
“Uh huh. That a Barragona Hombre?” Brandon asked, admiring Doug’s snug swimsuit.
“Uh huh. Of course, Rusted Brains over there? Keeps calling them the Barragona Homo,” Doug laughed easily and fielded the disc as Ronnie skimmed the Frisbee toward them.
There were no clear winner or loser; the four young men had fun hurling the Frisbee back and forth. Doug and Brandon collided a few times, as did Ronnie and Rusty. When this happened, Doug would loop an affectionate arm around Brandon’s middle.
Finally, the four young men had enough of sweating on the now quite warm sand and called an end to the game. After a dip in the cool river to cool down, Doug offered to buy them some beer from a nearby concession stand.
“Dude, I’m uh, I’m only eighteen,” Brandon admitted.
“Same here,” Doug smiled, flicking his wet blond hair out of his eyes.
The three men watched as, with a confident swagger, Doug approached the plywood structure. The grizzled old man scowled and barked something at Doug. Doug produced a rectangle of plastic and the old man squinted, then nodded his head. He put four ice cold cans of Gratchley’s onto the counter and handed Doug his change.
“Fake ID,” Doug admitted, handing out the cans of beer.
A small mixed group of teenaged girls and boys approached them and asked Ronnie and Rusty to join them in a pick-up game of beach volleyball. Doug and Brandon followed and sat a few yards away, watching the game. Doug bought two more beers and they sat and talked. Both were surprised to find out that the other loved guitar music; Steve Vai, Vernon Reid, Blues Saraceno.
“Eric Johnson?” Doug asked.
“Meh,” Brandon admitted. “Actually I kind of find him pretty boring.”
“Yngwie?” Doug pressed.
“Aw yes sir, yes sir,” Brandon agreed.
“Knew you were my kind of guy,” Doug said, nudging Brandon’s bare shoulder with his bare shoulder.
“Want another?” Doug asked, holding up his nearly empty beer.
“No, no thanks,” Brandon said.
“I uh, you ever hear Uli Jon Roth?” Doug asked.
“Uli, Uli, damn, I know I know that name,” Brandon mused.
“He was with Scorpions,” Doug supplied.
“Here I am! Rock you like a hurricane!” Brandon sang out, bobbing his head.
“My uh, my condo? My condo’s right there,” Doug pointed toward a complex of buildings approximately one hundred yards away, across a two lane asphalt road.
“Yeah?” Brandon asked, glancing at the yellow brick structure.
“Yeah, you need to come hear some Uli Jon; he’s a lot more than just some metal god,” Doug suggested.
Getting Ronnie’s attention, Brandon said he’d catch up with him later. Ronnie reminded Brandon that the last bus ran at eight that evening.
Casually looping his Gratchley’s High School jersey over his left shoulder, Brandon followed Doug across the two lane highway. The Barragona Hombre wasn’t quite a thong style, but much of Doug’s hairless buttocks were visible in the skimpy swimsuit.
Brandon was six feet tall and weighed one seventy three. He guessed the blond Doug was probably about five nine and most likely weighed one seventy, one eighty.
“Yeah, my mom and dad? They’re visiting my grandmother, my dad’s mom in Burstyn; this itty bitty place in Mississippi,” Doug said as he unlocked the door of the condo.
“Hmm,” Brandon said.
The moment the ice-cold blast of air conditioning hit them, Brandon had an overwhelming need to urinate. Doug pointed to the half-bath and told Brandon he’d be in the den.
“Just take a left when you come out; the doors will be open,” Doug called through the door.
Washing his hands, Brandon looked in the sparkling clean mirror at his reflection. He cursed his pasty white skin and his tightly coiled carrot orange hair. His face was a strong one and, thanks to his mother’s assistance, was free of freckles. His eyes were a warm brown; Brandon deduced he’d actually be quite handsome if he had brown hair like his buddy Ronnie or light blond hair like his new friend Doug. Not for the first time in his life, Brandon cursed being born a red head.
Uli John Roth was indeed a virtuoso guitar player. Sitting together on the buttery soft overstuffed leather couch, their bare thighs touching, Doug and Brandon leaned back and let the music flow over them.
“Hey, you uh, you want a drink or something?” Doug asked, placing his hand on Brandon’s thigh.
“What you got?” Brandon asked.
Using his hand on Brandon’s thigh to push himself up, Doug approached the highly polished wooden bar. He named whiskey, vodka, gin and rum. When he said ‘Rum,’ Brandon decided on anything with rum.
The music came to an abrupt end and the needle rose up and returned to the beginning of the vinyl LP. Brandon had not realized they were listening to an LP on a phonograph. He turned to say something to Doug and Doug kissed Brandon on his lips. At first Brandon was shocked; his first instinct was to angrily shove Doug away.
“Mm, I, oh!” Doug sighed as Brandon returned the kiss.
Doug wiggled out of his snug swimsuit, freeing a fat six inch erection. Delivering an open mouthed kiss to Brandon’s lips, Doug reached down and peeled Brandon’s swimsuit down, baring Brandon’s rapidly swelling cock. Reaching his hand down to grasp Brandon’s cock, Doug let out a little squeal. He looked down and his pretty blue eyes opened wide.
“Oh God I’m in love,” Doug moaned, seeing Brandon’s eight and seven eighths inches of uncircumcised meat.
He lightly tugged at the carrot orange tuft of pubic hair then reached to rap his hand around Brandon’s cock. Doug gave a few gentle strokes to Brandon’s engorged meat, then brought his lips to Brandon’s lips again.
“Fuck,” Brandon thought as Doug hungrily kissed him. “This? This is how I’m going lose my virginity? To a guy?”
Somehow, as the music played, Doug and Brandon wound up on the carpeted floor in a side by side sixty nine. Brandon had no experience in cock sucking; he’d never even fantasized about man-man action before.
Apparently Doug had sucked cock before. Doug wrapped his pretty lips around Brandon’s thick member and worked his tongue underneath Brandon’s foreskin. His right hand lightly stroked Brandon’s shaft while his left hand cupped and squeezed Brandon’s heavy balls.
“Mm hmm,” Doug moaned his approval as Brandon mimicked Doug’s actions.
Brandon was startled when he realized he’d managed to swallow Doug’s entire length into his mouth. He knew he had no gag reflex, especially when alcohol was involved, but had never thought of that anomaly being of any real use. He began to bob his head back and forth along the length of Doug’s fat dick.
“Oh, I, oh yes,” Doug moaned but his words were unintelligible.
Brandon jerked when he felt Doug press his finger against Brandon’s anus. Brandon croaked out a protest as Doug jammed the thick finger into Brandon’s resisting rectum.
“Mm hmm!” Doug gasped as Brandon reciprocated, shoving two fingers into Doug’s rectum.
Brandon groaned as Doug massaged Brandon’s prostate gland. Probing, Brandon located Doug’s prostate gland and pressed. Suddenly, his mouth filled with Doug’s bitter semen.
A moment later, Brandon felt his own balls tightening in anticipation. He moaned a warning to his new friend as Doug’s limp cock slipped from his lips.
“Mm oh, oh yes,” Doug gurgled as Brandon pumped a torrent of sperm into Doug’s sucking mouth.
Of course, Doug’s words were just mumbled grunts to Brandon’s ears. After a few moments, his cock was too sensitive and he gently pushed Doug’s mouth away.
“Mm, delicious,” Doug declared.
Brandon didn’t answer. Sitting up with his back against the couch, he reached up and drank the last two swallows of his far too potent drink.
“So, uh, want to go back to the beach or…” Doug asked, sitting next to the silent, brooding Brandon.
“I just sucked a cock,” Brandon thought, trying to get more alcohol from the empty glass. “And, and I, I sucked a guy’s dick and I swallowed his, his…”
“Want another?” Doug asked, his hand running up and down Brandon’s leg.
“Yeah,” Brandon agreed, handing Doug the empty glass.
Doug made another far too potent drink. He paused long enough to flip the album over so that they could listen to the B side. Then he leaned against Brandon as Brandon continued to sit on the deep pile carpet, brooding.
“You okay?” Doug finally asked, gently running his hand over Brandon’s pectoral.
“Yeah,” Brandon smiled tightly, draining his glass.
“You uh, you think you might, think you’re up to playing a little more?” Doug asked hopefully.
“Like uh, you know, uh…” Brandon asked, but could not say ‘sucking cock.’
“I don’t know if I can, but, I’d love to see if that monster will…” Doug hinted, stroking Brandon’s quickly reviving erection.
“Bad enough you sucked a dick; now you going fuck this, this, this…” Brandon thought as his cock ballooned to full hardness.
Doug kissed him again while gently stroking Brandon’s cock. Brandon fought the urge to push Doug away as he returned Doug’s passionate kiss.
“Be right back,” Doug said, scrambling to his feet.
The music was glorious but Brandon heard nothing. His cock bobbed and twitched as he thought of sucking cock, of swallowing sperm, of fucking a nice tight squirming brown star.
“Hey, uh, let’s, let’s take this upstairs,” Doug suggested, returning to the den.
Brandon gathered his shoes and shirt and bathing suit. His erection jerked and oozed a little excitement as he followed Doug’s cute jiggling buttocks up the stairs.
Doug’s room was a disaster area. Brandon used his foot to clear a space on the floor for his things then joined Doug on the unmade bed. Doug immediately wrapped his arms around Brandon and kissed him. Feeling Doug’s warm, smooth flesh against his, feeling Doug’s throbbing erection rubbing against his belly, Brandon returned Doug’s kiss.
“Okay, I, shit, know how hard it is to hide lube from my old lady?” Doug giggled, producing a bottle of almond oil. “Thank God we had this in the pantry, right?”
“; What do you need that for? What are you doing with that?'” Doug imitated a screeching female voice.
“Like she ain’t never, huh?” Brandon agreed.
Doug applied a generous coating of the oil to Brandon’s cock. Brandon took the bottle and poured some oil into his left hand. He then coated his index and middle fingers of his right hand in the oil.
Soundlessly, Brandon rose to his knees and Doug assumed the position on hands and knees.
“Mm, mm, I yes!” Doug grunted as Brandon fucked his willing hole with his greased fingers.
Brandon twisted the fingers in the struggling hole before scissoring his two fingers. He then coated his first, second and ring fingers in the puddle of oil in his left hand before pushing the three fingers into Doug’s slowly constricting anus.
After a moment, Brandon gripped his aching cock in his hand and brought the tip to Doug’s greasy, shiny hole. Both Brandon and Doug groaned as Brandon pressed the tip against Doug’s anus.
“Augh, I, Jesus! Go, go slow,” Doug gave a strangled grunt as Brandon’s cockhead pressed into Doug’s anus.
Brandon gave several short jabs, staring intently at the sight of his cockhead disappearing into Doug’s hole. His foreskin curled back and Brandon shivered with the pleasant sensation of his sensitive head rasping against Doug’s tightly clenched anus.
“Augh, I God damn, you, you’re splitting me in half,” Doug whimpered as Brandon’s foreskin now pressed past the slowly flowering rosebud.
“Aw God damn, God damn,” Brandon grunted as his cockhead and foreskin rubbed along Doug’s slick rectal walls.
“Give, give me a minute,” Doug gasped, face twisted in pain as Brandon’s immense girth stretched his struggling anus.
Gripping Doug’s hips in his hands, Brandon began to slowly pull out of Doug’s wiggling bowels. Just as he felt the ring of his foreskin brushing against Doug’s sphincter, he halted. He could feel Doug’s muscles squeezing, wiggling, struggling to push him out. He could feel Doug’s labored breathing, imagined he could even feel Doug’s pulse as he held himself just inside of the cute young man’s ass.
“Augh! Aw fuck, aw fuck, aw fuck,” Doug grunted as Brandon began to push himself into Doug’s resisting rectum.
“Wait, wait,” Doug cried out as Brandon now had half of his whang buried in Doug’s ass.
Brandon again pulled back, pulling his cock from Doug’s hole. Then he pushed forward again.
“Oh God!” Doug wailed as Brandon forced six, then seven inches into Doug’s guts.
Brandon Again pulled slowly from Doug’s tight little pucker. Then he pushed himself fully into Doug’s ass. Doug shuddered mightily as Brandon now had all eight and seven eighths of an inch buried in Doug’s pulsating hole.
“God, this, God, you, you are so fucking tight,” Brandon hissed, fighting against the urge to ejaculate.
“I, you, God you are big, you hear?” Doug whimpered, voice strangled.
Reaching around Doug’s hips, Brandon gripped Doug’s throbbing cock in his meaty hand. He placed his other hand just underneath the tip of Doug’s cock.
“Aw augh, oh, oh yes!” Doug screamed as he spurted heavily into Brandon’s cupped hand.
Brandon did not hesitate; he licked his hand clean of Doug’s semen. Then, gripping Doug’s hips again, Brandon began to properly fuck the young blond. Despite Doug’s entreaties for Brandon to go slow, Brandon pounded his fat log hard and fast in and out of Doug’s raw guts. With a howl, Brandon jerked once, twice, then pumped a flood of sperm deep into Doug’s bowels.
In the shower, Doug kissed Brandon passionately. Then they washed one another. With the hot water spraying over them, the two young men stroked one another, keeping one another aroused.
“I’m getting a Mama Roma, okay?” Doug asked, already punching the number for the pizzeria.
Doug ordered a vegan pizza and had it on the cauliflower crust. The pizza was disgusting, in Brandon’s opinion. He tuned out Doug’s opinions on meat and other animal products as the two sat and ate the barely palatable pizza. Brandon could only swallow two slices before telling Doug he could have the rest for himself.
Sitting on the couch, listening to a Joe Satriani cd, Doug again used the almond oil to grease Brandon’s cock. Then, swiveling his leg over, Doug sat onto Brandon’s cock. He whimpered and gasped and grunted as more and more of Brandon’s cock slid up into his guts. His weight helped ease the process and once he was fully seated on Brandon’s cock, Doug began to bounce vigorously on Brandon’s fat meat.
After another shower, the two young men lay on the floor of the den and performed a side by side sixty nine. Then, after two very potent drinks, the two fell asleep on the couch. Brandon had his bare back and buttocks against the leather back of the sofa and had his arm around the nude torso of Doug. Doug’s bare buttocks pressed firmly against Brandon’s semi-erect cock.
“Aw shit! Shit! Come on dude, my parents!” Doug hissed frantically, jostling the heavily sleeping Brandon awake.
Still nude, clutching his shirt, swimsuit and tennis shoes, Brandon hustled through the rear atrium doors of the condominium. Dressing quickly, Brandon used the barbeque grill to scale the eight foot privacy fence around the back patio.
It was around midnight; the next Bus number 12 would not be along until five thirty in the morning. The beach was dark and deserted; the plywood shacks were securely padlocked, dark and deserted.
Brandon walked aimlessly along the beach, listening to the rapidly rushing water and the occasional hoot or chirp of nightlife. As he walked, he thought.
The championship game against Myndee’s Roselawn Academy had earned Brandon his scholarship to Norwill University. Their star player was advancing rapidly, controlling the ball with a practiced cadence. The boy had managed to sweep past Paul by feinting to the left, then when Paul reacted, the boy swept around at the newly opened right.
Brandon smiled and the boy smirked. He tried the same tactic on Brandon and Brandon feigned that he would react. Then when the boy swept to the right, Brandon swiped the ball with his left foot. He then passed the ball to Paul who punched the ball into the goal. With that, Gratchley High School won, one to zero.
Afterward, Coach Schwimmer approached Brandon while a representative from Myndee University approached Paul. Coach Schwimmer admitted, he’d been there to observe Paul, but had been very unimpressed by Paul’s performance.
“I mean, seriously? Anyone could have seen that boy wasn’t going to try sweeping the left,” Coach Schwimmer spat, his German accent very heavy.
The party afterward, Paul was showered with praise. Not once did the handsome blond ever point out Brandon’s contribution to the solitary goal they’d managed. And none of the cute girls had paid Brandon any attention.
“Could have fucked Vickie Peters,” Brandon said out loud as he again glanced around at the desolate darkness of the beach.
“Then again, EVERYONE fucked Vickie; God, wonder how many diseases that whore’s carrying around?” Brandon said.
In his mind’s eye, Brandon could see his cock sliding in and out of Doug’s tight hole. He wondered what that felt like; taking a big fat dick into such an impossibly tight hole. A shiver of pleasure rippled through Brandon’s body as he imagined the first stab of pain followed by waves of pleasure.
“I wonder…am I?” Brandon asked himself as he tried to adjust his rampant erection.
Brandon grew tired of aimlessly walking back and forth. He had been sleeping very soundly when Doug woke him. Finally, he removed his shirt and lay down on the sand, using the shirt as a pillow.
Brandon did not know what type of bugs frequented the stretch of beach, but they were the biting variety. His bare flesh made a tempting morsel and soon he was flailing wildly at the countless insects.
Dunking himself into the river did bring some relief, but the relief was temporary. Then Brandon worried about what sort of snakes or aggressive fish might be lurking in the dark. He’d not heard of Swift Falls, Tennessee having alligators but still, the dark water made him uneasy.
“Hey. Waiting on the bus?” Brandon heard and jerked awake.
The gaunt looking black man smiled when Brandon wearily got to his feet. Brandon boarded the idling bus and paid the fare. The bus driver was pleasant and Brandon gave him a tight smile.
The three women on the bus paid him little mind as they continued to chatter in their native tongue. Brandon flopped down on a seat and looked out the window at the inky blackness. A few moments later, the bus groaned and squealed to a stop and the driver swung the doors open. One of the women, still chattering to her friends, hustled to the front of the bus and exited. It seemed to Brandon, no sooner had they pulled away from that stop, then they came to another groaning, squealing stop. Brandon was so hungry and tired he paid no attention to the bus driver’s conversation with the handsome older man that stepped onto the bus. The new passenger looked around, a smile creasing his already wrinkled face.
“Hey, university?” the man asked, sitting across the aisle from Brandon.
“Huh?” Brandon asked.
“You’re a student? At the university, right?” the man smiled. “Hi there! I’m Professor Boone, Dawson Boone, but you can call me Daws. And, no. We’re no relation to Daniel Boone.”
Daws was a gregarious and friendly man and soon Brandon revived and chatted with the happy man. He told the professor that he was a student at the Norwill University, was there on a soccer scholarship. He and his roommate had spent the day at the beach and he had somehow missed the last buss yesterday evening.
The bus dropped off the two chattering women a few stops later. A few passengers got on and sat close to the front of the bus. Daws and Brandon continued to talk, with Daws finding many reasons to touch Brandon’s arm and leg.
“Well, this is my stop,” Daws smiled, getting to his feet.
“Oh, okay,” Brandon said, looking around at the still quite dark landscape.
“Come on. Cyclone Diner’s open; you look like you could use a good breakfast,” Daws invited.
Having nowhere to go at that moment, other than to his dorm room and to his bed, Brandon smiled and followed the professor off of the bus. The Cyclone Diner had a few patrons that looked up, then looked down again when Brandon and Daws entered. The waiter dropped two laminated menus in front of them, then asked if they’d want coffee.
“So, uh, Brandon,” Daws said when they stepped out into the early morning sunlight.
“Man! Had no idea just how hungry I was,” Brandon enthused, revived after his breakfast of two sunny side up eggs with crispy bacon. “Thanks.”
“My uh, my bungalow’s just two more blocks that way,” Daws invited, meaty hand resting firmly on Brandon’s swimsuit clad buttocks.
“Oh yeah?” Brandon asked, cock swelling in his swimsuit.
The End.
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**Author’s Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I sincerely thank you for reading my stories.
I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take a moment to rate my work, those that ‘Favorite’ my words.
Ingalls McNaughton, the designer of the ‘Ingalls For Him’ line, also known as the ‘Ingalls Dingles’ line is a character first introduced in the ‘Watching TV Rots Your Brain’ series.
Cassie Barragona, the designer of the Barragona Hombre swimsuit line is first mentioned in ‘Evidently…’ in the Loving Wives category. Her employment as designer is introduced in ‘Mixed Drinks, Bahama Sunset’ in Lesbian Sex.
Have a swell day. And some of you, have a swollen day.