Disbelief on both sets of arms is rampant, on the part of young Timmy’s that they feel so good, and on the part of our Randy’s that at last they hold his sought-for conquest, something so perfect that nought else compares, do I really, actually, maybe, have a heart in working order that can make me feel so warm and good? Whatever hidden fantasies are coming true, the two of them stand there tied up in minglings of passion, need, affection, desperation, sweat, hard-ons, or is it hards-on?, neither could, in a steam room, distinguish which from which. But holding each other they definitely are.
