Roger waves his slender hands in the air as he talks to the man driving.
The other boys in Roger's crowd-an elite group of toughs-wouldn't even give Jimmy the time of day. Both boys are eighteen, but Roger is clearly dominant. Had Roger not dropped out of high school, he would have been in Carnal's senior class with Jimmy. The wind whips his soft brown hair about his head. With a gentle squeeze, Sven removes his hand from Jimmy's thigh. A quiver passes through his bony shoulders, down his strong sinewy arms. Jimmy keeps his eyes on the rolling fields passing by. Sven isn't moving his hand, but he isn't removing it either. Olive skin in sharp contrast to the ribbed white tank top stretched over his lean frame. Jimmy can feel his dick swelling unbidden in his jeans. With his hand still on Jimmy's thigh, Sven bends his head toward the ear of the man on his other side-the only way to be heard above the din of wind noise that fills the car. His blonde hair is cut short, like a Marine, and he speaks with a clipped accent that Jimmy can't place. He twists his lean frame, trying to protect his middle.
Jimmy's body goes tense, but he tries his best to act natural. The man sitting next to Jimmy slips his hand onto Jimmy's thigh. Roger Bones sits up front, in the passenger seat. Jimmy Manley shares the cramped backseat of a Volkswagen with two men that he does not know.
