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seen.
 Oh, Rory said.  Have you seen many?
 Ummm, Tracy shifted uncomfortably on his knees. Now
seemed as good a moment as any to get down to business.
He pushed his lips around Rory's cock head, hoping to
suck Rory's brains out, taking any awkward questions with
them. It seemed to work. Rory's head fell back and he let
out a gasp of pleasure.
Tracy laved and licked and swooshed with all the vigour
of a state of the art wet/dry vacuum cleaner. And if the
constant stream of sweet precum leaking into his mouth
was any indication of his accomplishment, then he was
doing a pretty fine job of it. Rory's hand settled on the top
of Tracy's head, his fingers threading into his hair. The
tingling of Tracy's scalp teamed with the glorious
sensation of a mouth filled with cock caused an
involuntary thrust of Tracy's hips. Instead of humping
Rory's leg like an overexcited puppy, Tracy reached into
his tracksuit bottoms to bring himself off.
 Twacy! Twacy! I'm going to .... The rapid thrust of
Rory's hips told Tracy exactly what he was going to do.
 Unh! A thick spray of semen jetted into Tracy's throat,
tipping him also over the edge. Just one swipe of his
foreskin over the top of his dick and he spurted hard over
Rory's shins, shaking as he came.
 Come on. Tracy pushed off his tracksuit bottoms, and
then stood, reaching for Rory's hand. He drew himself in
towards Rory, hugging him tightly and standing on the
crotch of the trousers and pants at Rory's ankles. Rory
shuffled his feet out of the tangled mess. Tracy tugged
Rory towards the still only half filled bath.
They climbed in and sat together in the swirling water, as
it continued to fill around them. Rory pulled Tracy close
to him, and Tracy clung on, letting out a satisfied sigh as
he tucked his head under Rory's chin, and closed his eyes.
* * *
One of Tracy's favourite activities during their family's
yearly trips to the seaside was rock pooling. He had many
fond memories of bracing himself on those slippery,
seaweedy rocks, trying his best not to topple right over as
he dipped his fishing net into the tempting pools. But one
particular occasion stood out in his mind, for two distinct
reasons that had nothing to do with the salty treasures that
he found.
The first reason was the shoes.
He had been in one of the damp-smelling shops under the
arches with his mum, when he had seen them. There they
were, amongst the pretty windmills and the colourful
inflatables the most beautiful objects Tracy had ever
seen in his life coral red jelly shoes. As if by magnetic
force, he had been drawn to them, still holding tightly onto
his mum's hand, pulling her towards the glorious vision.
He had simply pointed and stared, his eyes wide with
youthful wonder. His mum, being a person who not only
would do anything to make her little boy happy, but who
also appreciated the indescribable joy a pair of shoes
could bring, had taken one look at his sweet little face, and
then one look at the bargain price tag attached to the shoes,
and declared,  Okay darling, you can have them.
The second reason was the look.
For Tracy, rock pooling was something of an endurance
sport an opportunity for him to test his nerve against
nature. Although much excitement was to be had from
capturing those evasive crabs in the first place, the real
thrill came from picking them up out of the bucket in such
a way as to keep Tracy's fingers from being nipped right
off by a pair of evil, crabby claws. The rush of adrenaline
that he experienced as he reached a tiny hand into the
bucket was undeniably exhilarating.
On that day, an enormous crab circled around inside
Tracy's Ditsies bucket, and Tracy watched it carefully,
psyching himself up to pit his wits against the monster.
The crab appeared to be somewhat of a bully, moving
from crab to crab, asserting his authority over the smaller
ones. But when this particular crab crouched, tucking its
claws downwards, Tracy knew it was his moment to
strike. His little stomach knotted with fear and excitement
as he poked his thumb and forefinger into the cold water.
He grabbed the giant crab's shell and slowly lifted it out,
holding it up for his parents to see.  Look, at this one, it's
huge, he had told them, proud of his bravery.  It's really
heavy too! He looked back at the crab between his
fingers.  Oh!
While he clasped the behemoth in his hands, this particular
crab clutched another smaller one, gripping so tightly,
Tracy had lifted both up in one go.  Look Dad! Tracy
exclaimed.  They're cuddling.
His dad took one look at the crabs and snorted.  Yeah
mate, you're right. They are cuddling. Tracy's dad
grinned at Tracy's mum.  Look, love, they're having a
special cuddle. And it was then that he gave her the look.
Something between a wink and a nod. She flashed him a
lopsided smile back.
While Tracy was on a high, having faced his fear of lifting
this whopper up, the look still bothered him. He popped
the crabs back into the bucket, and stared down at his
beautiful coral red jelly shoes. They were certainly
special. Every time he caught a glimpse of them, a lovely
warm glow formed in his tummy. He wondered if that was
what his dad had meant. Was it possible that a cuddle
could give those crabs the same feeling he got each time
he looked at his shoes? Is that what made that cuddle
special?
A few years later while being distracted from his
homework by a nature programme about the lives of
crustaceans, Tracy had had a revelation. It turned out that
those saucy crabs had been mating. He finally knew what
the look meant. And while he was delighted to finally
understand just what it was that was so special about that
cuddle, he was even more excited when he realised that
just about any activity bath times, bedtimes, even the
occasional chemistry lesson could be made pretty darn
special if it ended with the sticky joy of ejaculation.
But it was only now, firmly ensconced in Rory's arms,
basking in the heady warmth of the fragrant water, that
Tracy had another revelation about that day at the rock
pool. With all his previous sexual encounters, and there
had been quite a few, the ejaculation part was the only bit
that had mattered. But this time was different. There was
something about Rory that made Tracy want to be that
little crab. He wanted to be wrapped right up in Rory. To
have Rory reach his arms around Tracy and pull him in, to
surround him. To clasp him in the way that that big crab
had clung tightly onto the little one. To make him feel safe
and desired and loved. And if that happened to result in an
earth shattering emission of semen like the one he had just
experienced, then that was simply the icing on the cake. So
to speak.
* * * *
Chapter Fifteen
Climax
Preparations for an erotic topiary event are not easy for a
village caretaker. Once the last few snips and adjustments
had been made to the phallus, Tracy would quite happily
have spent his time licking all over Rory's body, but
instead he found himself teetering on a ladder, putting up
bunting so gaudy, it resembled row after row of sparkly g-
strings hanging from a washing line. Buns 'n' Baps had
somehow won the contract to be 'Official Caterers,' and
the delicious smell of Elsie's baking breasts wafted down
the high street.
Tracy looked down at his watch. He was counting the
minutes until he was back at Twink's Bottom Manor,
snuggled in Rory's arms, ejaculating with enthusiasm
against his thigh. Or better still, against Rory's stomach, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]