"There it is," he whispered, forgetting his carefully cultivated accent. "You don't know how long I've wanted this, ever since I saw you hugging that skinny niggrah on TV."
"Abuse my freedom," Chris grunted. Peaches and crust dripped from his face.
"Get yore face down in that pie, piggy," Lindsay told him. "You don't come up for air, only for my cock."
Lindsay twirled his flaccid penis around, hoping it would awaken. He switched hands and took hold of Chris' bloated scrotum with his left. He ground the testicles together until Chris let out a burbling screech into the peach pie.
"Get hard, damn you," he said to his penis.
"I want you in me," Chris whined. He snuffled in crust and choked on it, coughing and shaking his ponderous body.
"Shut the fuck up. I got a Hellfire for you. I am gonna fuck you like a Muslim wedding, you fat fuck!" Lindsay screamed. He tried to stuff his tiny, limp member into Chris' gaping asshole.
"You like that, fat boy? You like that?" he screamed.
"Is it in yet?" Chris asked, finally daring to look back.
Lindsay screamed again, high-pitched and full of feminine rage. He pushed Chris over and angrily started trying to feed the remnants of the pie to Chris' pleading anus.