"Uh, oh, good boy, stop, Horst," Snake said pulling out of Horst's mouth.
Snake walked behind Horst, undid his jeans and let them drop to his ankles. He did the same with his own, and then pulled the waistband of Horst's jockstrap and stepped in it. His hard wet naked cock up against Horst's bare button.
Plop, Snap.
It all happened so fast. One second, Snake was popping Horst's cherry. The next, he was alone by the bleachers wearing only a jockstrap with a brand new cup.
Realization dawns on Snake. Ryan is the jockstrap and Horst is the cup. He pulls up his pants. He has no intention of taking either off ever. But what to do now?
He pulls out a cigarette and lights it.