Bruce and Chad
By:
Will B
(© 2010 by the author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
consent. Comments are appreciated at...
Author’s Note: Bruce and Chad first appeared in ‘Jerry’s Story.’ They are two teachers and ‘house fathers’ at the Residence. They are lovers, and they like to write stories set in other times or in fantasy. To avoid confusing the readers of ‘Jerry’s Story,’ their writings will appear in a separate series, this is the first of such stories.
Part 1
At the Dickens Arms
London in June of 1897 was a crowded city. Tourists had come from all over Britain, from the Empire, from Europe, and even from the United States, to enjoy the celebrations surrounding the Diamond Jubilee of Her Imperial and Royal Majesty, Victoria, Queen of England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and Her Other Realms and territories beyond the Seas, and Empress of India.
The redoubtable old lady had reigned for sixty years, longer than any other British monarch, and her people were going to show their love for Her Majesty. As a consequence, hotels, inns, pubs, and taverns were packed to the eaves with tourists.
One place that was NOT jam-packed was the Eagle Club, one of London’s most exclusive clubs. Membership could only be obtained by nominations by three other members. The Eagle Club occupied a large mansion in one of London’s fashionable neighborhoods.
On this particular night, rain was pissing down (as usual) as a young man went up the steps and into the foyer of the club. It was opulently appointed and was dominated by a large statue of a naked handsome youth whose body was partially surrounded by the wings of a large eagle, the claws of which were gripping the waist of the youth as if it were about to carry him off to Mount Olympus.
“Good evening, Pickwick,” the young man said to the Steward. “Has my man arrived with my bags?”
“Yes, Mr. Lenox. I’ve put you in the Priapus Suite as both the Wilde and Queensberry Suites are occupied. I hope that will be satisfactory?”
“Oh, quite,” replied Francis Frederick Lenox, a handsome twenty-four-year-old man who in modern parlance would be described as ‘quite the stud!’ As it was, his friends just thought of him as extremely good-looking, one whom they would delight to get to know much, MUCH better!
Lenox went up the broad staircase, carpeted in red plush, and went into the suite of rooms he was to occupy on this sojourn in London.
“Bucket? Bucket?” he called to his man, who was not only his valet, but his friend and confidant.
“Here, Sir,” replied Bucket as he stepped out of the bedroom. He was forty years old and well built with broad shoulders and a slim waist, and muscular arms that give one of the best massage jobs in London.
“I’ve unpacked your bags. Would you like me to draw your bath?”
“Um, a little later, Bucket. I’d like you to shave me first, please,” Lenox said.
“Certainly, Sir. I shall prepare some hot towels for your face.”
“Oh, no, Bucket. I want you to shave my hair below the waist.”
“All of it, Sir?” asked Bucket, without batting an eye-lash. After all he had shaved Lenox’s pubes before.
“Just a trim, I think, Bucket. I’m going out after dinner. George Hyde is taking me to a new place.”
“Very good, Sir. I hope you will find the new place…pleasurable,” Bucket said with a smile. He knew of Lenox’s interests, and indeed he shared many of them himself.
Lenox went into the bathroom, took off his shoes and socks, and then began to strip off all of his clothes. Bucket noticed with approval that his employer had not a trace of fat on his slender body, and that his pecs were well defined with brown nipples that were surrounded by little tufts of black hair.
A delightful treasure trail led from Lenox’s navel down to his pubic bush, which surrounded a thick, six-inch (when flaccid) cock. Below this appendage hung two large testicles.
Lenox lay down on a chaise lounge and prepared for the ministrations of his valet. Bucket took a bristle brush and whipped up a foaming lather that he applied to the hair, and then…oh, so carefully, took the razor and trimmed some of the hair. Lenox lay relaxed, enjoying the sensation and completely trusting Bucket not to make a slip.
When Bucket finished, Lenox’s bush was a small neat rectangle. Bucket help up a mirror and said, “Will that do, Sir?”
“Excellent, Bucket, excellent! I’m going to get dressed and then go to dinner. I’ll probably be late home, so don’t wait up for me. Do you have any plans for the evening?”
“Yes, Sir. Since you will not require my services, I plan to meet a young stable-boy and educate him in certain activities.”
“How old is he, Bucket? I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail because you were with a minor!”
“Oh, no, Sir. As if I would! He’s twenty, Sir, and he wants me to show him a bit of the ‘rough’.”
“Very well, Bucket, I know you will give him seven of the best!”
A little later that evening, Francis, impeccably dressed in white tie and tails, descended the steps and went into the dining room. This room was filled with tables for two or four, covered with the finest white damask tablecloths. On each table was a small candelabrum, the base of which was a miniature reproduction of the statue of the naked youth and the eagle.
At the end of the room was a long table for large groups. Over the table was a portrait of the late Prince Albert Victor of Clarence, grandson of H.M. the Queen. Down each side of the room were portraits of Greek heroes: Achilles, Apollo, Hero, Ulysses, Hector, and so on, all depicted in all their glory, and all of them extremely ready for….battle. The floor was covered in a rich Aubusson carpet.
Francis saw his friend at a table and went over to him. George stood up, and shook hands with Francis, as any properly brought-up gentleman would, and the two men then groped each other’s crotch, just as all properly brought-up members of the Eagle Club would.
“I have something for you, George,” said Francis, and from his coat pocket he drew a check for £10,000. “I always pay my gambling debts, even if I don’t always pay my tailor.”
“Thank you, Francis…but what’s this? This check is signed Francis F. S. Lenox. I never knew you had another name!”
“It’s a long story, George. The Francis comes from my grandmother Fan, who was the beloved sister of my great uncle Ebenezer.”
“Wasn’t he the miserable….?” George interrupted.
“Oh, yes, but he changed. He made the pater, Frederick, Fan’s son, a partner in his firm, and he settled a trust fund on me that I could not touch until I was twenty-four, and since I’ve just attained that age, I can use the money as I want.”
“So the Frederick is for your father, and the S.?”
“The pater was so grateful to Great-uncle Eb that he adopted the name Scrooge-Lenox, but I usually just use Lenox, except on legal papers and checks.”
“I see. Interesting! Shall we order?”
The two men had a delicious dinner and talked of this and that, but over coffee, Francis said, “Tell me about this place to which we are going.”
“It’s like an old fashioned ‘molly house,’ as it used to be called,” said George. It’s a place where people…er…like us, can meet for assignations, and there are some hosts who will take care of needs if we don’t have a partner for the evening. There is one requirement, however.”
“What’s that?” asked Francis.
“The place is called the Dickens Dick’s Inn, and everyone uses a pseudonym from one of Dickens’ stories. When I go, I am addressed as ‘Pip,’ you see?”
“Hmm,” mused Francis. “I guess I’ll be Nicholas Prickleby.”
“That’s the spirit! If you’re ready, let’s go. It’s not far,” said George. The two men asked Pickwick to call them a cab, and soon they were driving through the rain-soaked streets of London.
* * * * *
Bucket was in the tack room of the Eagle Club’s stables. He was naked and quite, quite erect. The body, also naked, of the oh-so-willing, ready and able stable boy was bent over a saw horse. His hands were strapped with horses’ bridles and reins to the legs on one side of the sawhorse, and his legs were strapped to the other side of the sawhorse.
“Aye, now you’re bent over, lad. I’m going to insert one finger. Ready?”
“Yes, Mr. Bucket, Sir. I’m ready… Ahhh!”
“Can you take two?”
“I think so, please……Ooooohhhh!”
As Bucket looked at the smooth hairless butt of the young man, he was seized with a sudden urge. He wanted to bite—no--he wanted to kiss those delicious white orbs.
“How about three?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes……. Aaaagggghhhhh…..Oooohhhh. Yes! YES!”
The next insertion the stable boy felt was Bucket’s seven throbbing inches of flesh and muscle. His pleasure was so great that all he could say was, ‘HUH-HUH-HUH- OH MORE! MORE! SHOVE IT IN, PLEASE! HAHAHAHA AAAAHHHH! AAAAHHHH!”
And so, Bucket gave him more!
* * * * *
Riding through the streets of London with his friend, Francis found himself wondering what this new place would be like. He liked cock, he liked ass, and he liked sucking. Indeed he liked fucking and being fucked. His mind went back to when he was a teenager and had his first encounter with young Sam Cratchit, son of Tiny Tim Cratchit, and son of Bob Cratchit.
Sam had curly blond hair, while Francis had straight black hair. They were both the same height, and they both were extremely good looking.
The two teens had gone up to the top floor of Great-uncle Eb’s warehouse, and found it loaded with bales of hay. Sam said to him, “Hey, Frank, I’ll bet my cock is bigger than yours!”
“Oh, yeah, Sam? I’ll show you! Let’s compare cocks, and the one with the shortest cock has to suck the other one. You game?”
“Sure,” Sam said, and he quickly shed all of his clothes and stood there with his four-inch cock slowly becoming erect. Frank did the same, and the two boys stood, breathing heavily, each looking at the other’s stiff boy-cock.
Sam found a piece of twine on the floor, and the boys measured each other’s penis. Lo and behold, no matter how they measured the juicy pieces of meat, the lengths, the girths, circumference of the helmets, all were exactly the same.
“What’ll we do? Who wins?” Frank asked.
“I think we could suck each other,” said Sam, with a wide grin.
“Done!” said Frank, and the two boys arranged their naked bodies into the classic sixty-nine position. As Frank’s lips approached Sam’s already leaking helmet, he drank in the intoxicating aroma of the delightful, delicious, delectable, delirious, deluxe, de-lovely, dripping organ.
Sam murmured, “Oh, I want to taste your juice!”
Frank murmured back, “And I want to swallow your elixir, you beautiful boy, Sam!”
The bliss! The joy! The delightful taste of Sam’s nectar brought Francis to the most violent orgasm he had ever experienced. Seven shots of his own champagne of love covered Sam’s throat, his lips, his face, his neck, and his shoulders. Frank was lost in rapture
“Francis. Wake up. We’re almost there,” George said, shaking his friend’s shoulder.
“Sorry, George, I must have dozed off. I was dreaming…”
The carriage pulled up to a stop in front of a building that was mostly in darkness except for a single lamp that illuminated the door and a sign that read ‘The Dickens Arms.’ George paid the cabby off, who said, “Have a good time, Gents. Have a good screw for me! Hah hah hah!”
George opened the door, and he and Lenox stepped into a vestibule that was dingy to say the least. Paint was pealing off the walls, and there were cobwebs in the corners. An old woman in a tattered wedding dress sat at a table nursing a glass of gin.
‘A wedding dress!’ thought Lenox. ‘Who would ever want to marry her!’
“Good evening, me ducks, Come for a good time with some of your molly-culls, have yer? Ah, Mr. Pip, I know you, and who might yer friend be an all?” <cough!> <cough!>.
“Good evening, Miss Havisham. I see you’re in your good health. This is my friend, Nicholas, Nicholas Prickleby, that is.”
“Prickleby, eh. That’s a good name, Lor’ love ya, and I’ll bet he has a good size prick to his name, too, I’ll be bound <cough!> <cough!>.
“All right, Gents, that’ll be harf a crown each, and when you go in, just ask the bar man to send out another one of these. <cough!> <cough!>.
Lenox felt sorry for the poor woman. “That’s all right, Miss, er, Havisham. The treat’s on me.”
“Oh, Gor’ bless you, an all! Thank ‘ee kindly, Mr. Prick.”
Lenox and George went into the next room, which was as elegant as the vestibule was dingy. Several people sat at tables around the room, and behind them were large arches giving on to a series of elegantly appointed rooms. Some arches had the curtains drawn and some had the curtains opened showing beds and other items of furniture, some of which caused Lenox to raise his eyebrow.
George pointed to one room in which there was a bed, and on the bed lay two naked men, pleasuring each other by manipulating their respective massive organs.
“Oh, look! There’s Jack-off Morley and Dick Wilkins. They’re enjoying each other’s company, to be sure,” George snickered.
At that moment , Jack-off shot his liquid into the air and onto his body in one—two—no, three—four—five—six! Six blasts of creamy white spooge that covered his abdomen, his chest, his neck, and his face.
George nudged Francis and said, “Jack-off always puts on a good show! Or he puts out a good show!”
Francis noticed another couple; a rough looking man who was holding an effeminate young man on his lap. The older man wore a loose towel across his genitals, but the towel kept slipping down. The younger man was completely naked, and he was heavily made up with rouge on his face and eye shadow on his eyes. He was sprawled across the body of the older man, whose massive cock was rubbing against the under side of the younger man's ball sack.
George said, “Nicholas, I’d like you to meet Bill Sucks and his Nancy, er Nancy boy.” Bill, Nancy, this is my friend Nicholas Prickleby. This is his first visit to The Dickens Arms.”
“A pleasure, I’m sure, Mr. Prickelby. Say! Nancy and I were thinking of having a bite to eat, and I think we both would enjoy tasting your meat!”
“Ooooh, yes!” said Nancy. “I love to eat out, especially if I don’t have to leave this room, and I would love to eat you….”
“Uhhh, some other time perhaps,” said Francis. He and George turned away and saw a tall thin man who was constantly wringing his hands.
“Your servant, Pip, and yours, too, my good Sir,” the man said.
“Pip, this is Uranus Heaps, and a more humble man you’ll never meet in all of London.”
“Oh, yes, I’m ‘umble. I must be constantly reminded of my ‘umbleness. Perhaps the two of you fine lads would teach me another lesson in being ‘umble. I’ll just quickly disrobe and get into my tub, and you can shower me with your golden liquid that will keep me ‘umble.”
Francis backed away. He did not want to take part in any ‘golden shower games’ with Uranus Heaps!
* * * * *
In the tack room, Bucket was untying his partner in passion. “Are you all right, my lad?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m fine, Mr. Bucket. Thank you so much for teaching me ‘a bit of the rough.’ You were a wonderful teacher.”
Bucket said something he never thought he would say to another man. “Lad, I was wondering if you would like to fuck me in return.”
“Oh, indeed I would, Mr. Bucket, Sir.”
“Would you like to tie me up as I did you?”
“Oh, Sir! If you wouldn’t mind, I would like you lying flat on your back, with your knees up, so I can enter you and face you at the same time. I….I… find I would like to look at your face while I enter you. If that would be all right?”
Bucket did something else he thought he would never do. He took the stable boy’s face between his hands, and kissed him on the lips!
‘What’s come over me?’ Bucket wondered to himself. “Certainly, my lad, take me any way you want. I just want to feel your manhood in me!”
When they had made love—no, not ‘fucked,’ not ‘had sex,’ but rather, made love, the two men lay in each other’s arms, basking in a wonderful afterglow.
“Tell me, lad, do you like being a stable boy?”
“Frankly, Mr. Bucket, I’m sick and tired of all this horse shit!” <a snicker from the stable lad, and guffaw from Bucket>
“What would you like to do, then?”
“Well, Sir, promise you won’t laugh, but I’d like to learn to be a gentleman’s gentleman, such as you. Of course I’d never be as fine as you, but…well…I’d like to try.”
* * * * *
Back at the Dickens Arms, George said, “Nicholas, I’m going to leave you; I see my special friend, Fag-un, over there. I haven’t seen him for this age. Will you be all right?”
“Sure, my friend. You go and have a good time with your friend. I’ll be fine! Just fine….fine!...I hope!”
Just then a tall fair-haired man came into the chamber and looked around as if not quite sure what the procedure was in this molly house. Francis thought he was quite good looking, and he sensed that perhaps the newcomer was as lost as he was.
He went up to him, and bowed, and said “I’m Nicholas Prickleby.”
“Oliver Twister,” the blond stud replied.
“Your servant, Sir,” they both said simultaneously, and bowed, almost bumping heads. This brought a fit of giggles from both of them. They shook hands, and Francis felt a tremor of something, a thrill; he didn’t know what it was. To cover his nervousness, he said, “Is this your first visit to the Dickens Arms, Oliver?”
“Yes, I’ve been out of the country for some time, and I’ve just retuned to England…Er….you know Nicholas, I’ve been thinking I’d like to get to know you better,….uh…much better.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing, Oliver. Here we are, and this place is made for men getting to know each other better, much better….Could we?”
“I think so, Nicholas. I do think so, very much so.”
The two men went into one of the rooms, and pulled the curtains closed. This encounter was NOT going to be on display.
They both sat on the edge of the bed, and turned toward each other, and lightly kissed. Then they kissed again. And again. Each kiss was more passionate than the last. Their hands began to roam over each other’s bodies. Cravats were loosened and discarded; shirts were unbuttoned. Article of clothing after article was taken off and tossed on the floor.
Finally the two men faced each other in all their natural glory, and Frank ran his hands over the chest, the abdomen, and the thighs.
“Oliver, do you want some more?”
“Indeed, Nicholas, especially that prick you are carrying.”
They got into the position for sixty-nine and as their lips moved toward the target, Oliver murmured, “Oh, I want to taste your juice!”
Frank murmured back, “and I want to swallow your elixir, you…’
Both men pulled apart. Frank looked at his partner and said, “S… S… Sam, is that you?”
“Frank? I can’t believe it! After all these years! I’ve missed you so much,’ Oliver said. “Yes I’m Sam Cratchit. Now come here, Frank, I want to … to … swallow you whole!”
After ten years’ separation, Frank and Sam were reunited, and they vowed never to be separated again.
They dressed and went back to the Eagle club. They would never visit the Dickens Arms again. They had found their future in each other’ arms.
In the morning, Bucket took his master’s morning chocolate into the bedroom and nearly dropped the tray when he saw two heads on the pillows, two bodies lying close together under the blankets.
“Good morning, Mr. Lenox, he said.
“And a beautiful morning it is, too, Bucket. Bucket, this is Sam Cratchit. He is going to stay with me for a long time; forever, I hope.”
“Good morning, Mr. Bucket. I am happy to meet you. I will be staying with Frank for a long time, and I hope I will not be a burden on you. I guess I’m going to have to see about engaging the services of my own valet.”
“Sir, would it be all right if you had a ‘valet-in-training’ as it were? He would be under my supervision of course.”
“Bucket, you sly dog, I would almost guess you had someone in mind," teased Lenox.
“Well, Sir,…if you will excuse me for just a minute..,” Bucket said as he went out of the room and came back with the stable lad.
“This young man wants to be a valet. Mr. Cratchit wants a valet. I want to have a young man to train, but…what do you want, Mr. Lenox, Sir. It’s for you to say.”
“Well, Bucket, I want to know the young man’s name.” Frank looked at the stable lad and said, “What is your name, young fellow?”
‘Arthur, Sir. Arthur Dodge, but my mother always called me the Artful Dodger.”
Arthur was taken on, and in the words of the old stories, Frank and Sam lived together, happily ever after, looked after by their two loyal valets, who also looked after each other! If you catch my drift! <Wink>
Part 2
“Gaily Ever After”
In the far away Kingdom of Neverwas Land, four castles dominated the landscape, each castle inhabited by a prince and his princess, and the usual retinue of servants.
In one castle, set in the middle of dark gloomy forest, lived the beautiful Belle and her Prince, Beau, formerly known as ‘The Beast.’
In the second castle, overlooking a town, dwelt Ella and her handsome Prince, Maximilian Geoffrey Sidney. (Sidney? Well, that was his name!)
The third castle was home to The Princess Aurora Rose and her dashing, sword slashing, husband, Prince Thorndick, usually just known as Thorn.
The last castle, set high on a mountain so that appeared to be in the clouds was the home to dear Snow White, whose husband was Prince Charmley.
Prince Beau was pacing the Great Hall of his castle. Stained glass windows depicted the valorous deeds of his ancestors, and the wall was hung with banners of the coats of arms of the same ancestors. Two comfortable thrones were set on a dais at one end of the hall. A long table was set with food and drink of all kinds: cold beef, crab salad, fried chicken, and wines of every variety, and a keg of beer. Everything that could make a prince or princess happy was right there.
But Prince Beau was not happy. As he paced, he wondered to himself, ‘When will it ever end? This endless going to the library to get more books? Can’t Belle be content with the 35,469 books in the castle library? Hell, no!’
“Drat, we’re almost out of beer, Mrs. Potts,” Beau called.
“Yes, Your Highness?” said a round, cheery-faced woman, Mrs. Potts, the housekeeper.
“Please send Tommy Potts or Gaston down to the cellars to bring up another keg of beer. Thank you, Mrs. Potts.”
“Yes, Your Highness … er … might I ask, is it the same problem?”
“Yes … yes, it is. Belle is off to the library … AGAIN!”
Just then the Prince’s I-phone rang (Yes, an I-phone. Even the princes of Neverwas Land have to move with the times).
“Hello, Beau here … Oh, hello, Thorn. How are things at your castle? ... oh, no. She’s off on another shopping expedition, is she? ... More spinning wheels? ... Egads, man, she must have hundreds of them! ... Yes, it’s time for us guys to get away. Listen, let’s get Charmley and Sidney on the phone in a conference call, and we’ll set something up.
Beau punched a few buttons and soon the four princes were connected by the miracles of modern magic (Magic? No, we don’s use the word ‘sc--nc-’
here. It is strictly forbidden).
“Hello, guys? Are we are all here? Okay, I’ll summon the “Slave of the I-phone. Yes, he used to be the slave in the mirror, but well, you know how it is.”
Assuming his sultriest voice, Beau called “Slave of the I-phone, come forth from cyber space, and show your face.”
A face surrounded by flickering smoke appeared on the screens of the four I-phones. “Yes, My Princes. What are your desires? Do you want to beat me, whip me? Tell me how I may serve you.”
“No, none of that,” said Thorn. “We want you to recommend a place where the four of us, each with one servant, can spend a few days away from home.”
“Hmm. Hmmm,” said the slave. “Ah, yes, I have it. “Over the seven hills, beyond the seven falls, live seven little men who run a guest cottage for disgruntled princes. Satisfaction guaranteed. Delicious meals. Moderate prices. Singing and dancing after dinner in the Great Room, optional. Shall I make reservations?”
The four royal highnesses each gave their assent, and the slave disappeared. “Okay, my friends, we’ll meet at the guest cottage of the seven little men, in two days,” Beau said.
“I hope this is a good place to stay,” said Sidney.
“It will be, because the slave knows that if he doesn’t give satisfaction, I’ll banish him,” Beau said.
“Not to the salt mines of Siberia?” asked Charmley.
“Worse than that,” Beau chuckled. “He knows I would banish him to the land lines!”
Oh, no! Not that!” the others gasped.
“Yup; well … see you in two days time,” said Beau as he closed his I-phone, and looked approvingly as seventeen-year-old Tommy Potts, five-foot-nine, stocky of build, and with a well filled bulge below his waist, brought in another keg of beer.
“Thank you, Tommy, and … what is that stain on your leggings? Have you and Gaston been…?”
“Oh, well, yes, Your Highness. You know how it is. We were just…”
“Very well, Tommy. I’m going away for a few days and I want to take someone to look after my clothes and things. Would you like to go?”
“Oh, yes, Sir. I’ll tell my Mum. She’ll be ever so pleased that I am moving up in the Royal Household.”
‘Hmm. Moving up, indeed. We’ll see about that; indeed we will,’ mused Beau.
A few days later Beau and Tommy arrived at the Guesthouse run by the seven dwarves.
Shortly after their arrival, they were joined by Sidney and a tall, dark, and handsome athletic-looking man named Gus. “Beau, and Tommy … this is Gus. Before I married Ella, he was one of her pet mice, but the fairy godmother changed him into this good looking young man,” Sidney said. “But he still has quite an appendage on him!”
Next to arrive was Thorn, accompanied by his valet, Spindle, who was eighteen and would also have turned quite a few heads at the beach. He had bleached blond hair, blue eyes, and was quite good looking both above and below his belt.
Last to arrive was Charmley, who had brought Dagger, the huntsman, twenty-five years old and six-feet tall, he was all hunk. Dagger’s equipment was obvious to behold, and Gus found himself wondering what it would be like to hold that equipment, to hold it, and…’
The eight guys sat out on the veranda, waiting for their rooms to be ready. “Thorn, how are things with you and Aurora?” Sidney asked.
“Fine, I guess, but she keeps on and on about how wonderful it was when I awoke her with a kiss from that sleep. Now all she wants me to do is kiss her awake and take her downstairs to waltz around the ball room. We seldom get to…”
“I know how you feel, Buddy,” said Beau. “Belle spends all her time going into towns and cities, collecting books. Reading, reading, reading! I tell you, being married to a bibliophile is not what it’s cracked up to be!”
“Humph! How would you like to be married to a woman who spends all her time growing apple trees, pruning them, harvesting them? I wish she’d let me…” complained Charmley.
At that point, their host, Doc, came out to tell them their rooms were ready. Eight rooms in a cottage? Oh, no! The dwarves had sold some of the jewels they had been mining (“Heigh ho, it’s off to the bank we go!”) and built a three-story hotel in the style of a Swiss chalet. There was a pool, a gym room, and all the amenities that could help guys learn to relax.
Something had happened to Doc—and to all the dwarves—since we last met them. Through hard work, exercise, and carefully controlled doses of Viagra, they had slimmed down, beefed up, and grown another four feet, so that they were now all six feet tall.
Viagra? Of course! You see, dwarves were already well known for being extre-e-e-emely well endowed, so the Viagra added length to their over-all height.
Doc was a good looking ‘silver-hair’, as the saying goes. He had trimmed his beard, and discarded his glasses in favor of contact lenses. He wore a red tunic and blue leggings that tucked into black boots. His organ was clearly outlined against his leggings and it was immense.
“Gentlemen,” Doc began. “Welcome to our guesthouse. If you will follow our instructions, you will rid yourselves of all anxieties, inhibitions and prohibitions. You will leave here as new men with a much different outlook on life than you had when you came. Are you with me?”
“Yeah!” “Right on!” “You bet!” were the responses.
“Now … the first thing I want you to do is forget all formality. You are no longer ‘Royal Highnesses’ and ‘Sirs.’ You will address each other by first names or as ‘Buddy’ ‘Pal,’ or even ‘Stud!’ Can you do that?”
Sidney turned to Gus and said, “It’s Okay, Gus. Just call me
Sidney or Sid.”
“Thank you, Sir…I mean Sid.”
“Call me Beau, Tommy,” said Beau.
“Right, Beau, Sir … er … Beau,” said Tommy, blushing a little. He had long wanted to call Beau something more informal than ‘Sir’, and even hoped that he might call him into his bed!
“Good, good,” said Doc. “Now I want you all to go to the rooms that Happy and Bashful will show you. Unpack, and then decide which one article of clothing you will wear when you come down for dinner. Just one article, mind you.”
When the eight guys reassembled for dinner, each had chosen one article of apparel, a pair of shorts, or a towel.
Dinner had been prepared by Grumpy, whose gray hair had been styled and he had shaved his beard and wore a neatly trimmed moustache. He was all in brown but he wore a white apron and a chef’s hat. His nature hadn’t changed much; he still grumbled about everything—the price of meat, how hard he worked, and how loud Sleepy snored! Same old Grumpy.
After dinner, Doc appeared, wearing only a loincloth, and he said, “All right, guys, I want you to stand up and ‘shed your threads.’ That’s right, just drop it.”
Doc began to sing:
“Stand up, straight and tall, don’t hide your face
Just drop all your clothes, it ain’t no disgrace.
Then rub your bare body, just any old place
An' go blud-dle-ud-dle-ud-dle, Ud-dle-um-dum.
Now pick up the soap while you’re in the buff
Work up a lather an' when ya’ve enough
Get your hands full of suds, ya snort an ya snuff
An' go blud-dle-ud-dle-ud-dle Ud-dle-um-dum.”
This caused a little embarrassment, until Thorn stood up and said, “Oh, well, what the hell! We haven’t got anything we all haven’t seen before at the gym.” With that he stepped out of his boxers, and used them to slap Beau on the butt.
“Your turn, Beau.” Beau unwound his towel, and flocked Charmley with it. Charmley flicked Dagger with it. Dagger stepped out of his jockstrap and put it on Tommy Potts’ head. And so it went until all eight guys were standing in all their glory and one or two were beginning to show some growth ‘south of the border.’
“Now I want you all to get rid of some more of your inhibitions,” said Doc. “Find someone and give them a full body hug.” He gave a little giggle,
Tommy hugged Gus and thought, ‘Oooh, this is fun.’
Spindle hugged Beau, and Beau thought to himself, ‘I’ve never felt anything like this, not since that stable boy and I fooled around in the barn all those years ago.’
Thorn hugged Dagger, and finally all eight men were hugging someone, hugging them so closely, that there was even more growth occurring.
Out of the corner of his eye, Charmley noticed Dopey, tall and good looking, but still completely bald, standing off to the side of the room. He was wearing a long dressing gown of some sort, with silver buttons, but his hand was inside his robe, and he was manipulating his cock. He stood there, with eyes half closed, and a beatific smile on his face, enjoying the sight of eight naked studs hugging hands.
“All right, horn dogs, take a seat,” commanded Doc. “You’ve done very well, but there are some more inhibitions we have to work through. Now I have here eight cards. Each is marked with either a ‘T’ or a ‘B,’ and there are four pairs of cards, marked ‘1,’ ‘2,’ ‘3,’ or ‘4.’”
Doc continued, “Each of you will draw a card and you will pair off and go to four separate rooms, and decide what you will do tomorrow, after breakfast, to show that (a) you’ve lost your inhibitions, and (b) that it’s all perfectly normal. “
“And a lot of fun,!” interjected Happy.
Spindle raised his hand and said, “Doc, what’s the meaning of the “Ts” and “Bs?”
Doc grinned and replied, “Well, the ‘T’ stands for ‘Top,’ and…”
“Oh, I gotcha, Doc. Thanks,” said Spindle. He sat back thinking, ‘I hope I get Gus. He’s kinda hot.’
All eight guys drew cards, and the results were posted on a white bulletin board by Happy, who was chuckling. The results posted as follows.
Ones - Tommy, T. Thorn, B.
Twos - Beau, T, Sidney, B.
Threes - Dagger, T, Charmley, B.
Fours - Gus, T., Spindle, B.
“Now, you guys go to your rooms, and plan what you’re going to demonstrate tomorrow. And remember, ‘What happens at the guesthouse, stays at the guesthouse!’”
The four teams went to their rooms to talk, to plan, and of course, to practice what they were going to do tomorrow. Tommy thought to himself, ‘When we get back to the castle, maybe Beau and I could…’
Gus was thinking that Sidney was really a hot looking stud without his royal uniform with all of his medals.
Dagger and Charmley were sitting side by side, fondling each other’s tumescent tools. Suddenly, Charmley leaned over and slowly licked Dagger’s helmet. Dagger groaned, and Charmley licked around the shaft, sending shivers of delight throughout Dagger’s body.
Dagger moved his body so that his lips were lined up with Charmley’s pole, and he took the whole pink shaft into his mouth. His tongue caressed the hot organ, and very shortly he was rewarded with a load of hit jism in his mouth.
“Shall we demonstrate this tomorrow, Dagger?” Charmley asked, after he had come down from his mountaintop.
“I think we can add something for a little variety,’ said Dagger. He told Charmley his thought, and Charmley replied “Oooooh! I like that! Let’s do it!”
The next morning, eight excited guys met on the patio. Doc had arranged a couch, some chairs, and two benches that might be used as props. Doc asked Sneezy to draw a number out of a hat, and Sneezy announced “Team number …Three!”
Dagger and Charmley stood up, faced the audience and said, “We’d like to share a variation on an old game. We call it ’70!’”
“What’s ‘70’?” asked Tommy.
“If you take ‘one’ from ‘seventy,’ what remains?” asked Charmley.
“That’s simple,” replied Tommy. “You have sixty-… Oh! OK!”
Dagger and Charmley arranged themselves on one of the wide benches, and after some tongue-kissing began to arrange their bodies in ‘that’ position. Slowly, delicately, their tongues licked the tips of each other’s tools. As they proceeded, they began to salute each other’s penises more and more vigorously.
The others watched breathlessly as the two deep-throated each other, and then each raised his free hand and began to rub the others butt-crack, rub, and explore, explore some more, and then each digit entered the portal and found the hot spot. Sucking and exploring. Licking and drilling. Pushing in and drawing out.
‘This is too much,’ thought Thorn. “I’m gonna cream myself.’ Dopey was watching, entranced, his eyes, half closed as if imagining.
At last two simultaneous ejaculations coated Dagger and Charmley’s throats with that creamy white foamy substance.
Their exhibition brought a round of enthusiastic applause.
Once again, Sneezy drew a card. “Team number … Four!” he announced.
Gus and Spindle stood up and went to the front of the crowd. “We’re going to demonstrate a variation of frottage,” announced Gus. “In our room we found a book with pictures of Greek gods and heroes, and it seems that this was one of their favorite ways to ‘do the deed!’”
Gus lay down on the couch, face up, with the lower half of his body half off of the couch. Spindle lay down on top of him, also face up, and Gus’s thick appendage stuck up between Spindle’s legs, rubbing against Spindle’s round, hairy, testicles. Gus reached around Spindle and began to pump his appendage. Pump … pump … Pump … PUMP … faster and faster. Spindle closed his legs, capturing Gus’s cock between his own muscular legs.
Hands flew faster, legs squeezed harder, faster and harder, Faster and Harder, FASTER AND HARDER.
Again there were two geysers of jism that blew almost simultaneously! Jism was everywhere, but Dagger and Spindle knew what they were about. They cleaned each other’s hands, pubic areas, and chests until not a trace of jism remained. They sat up with shit-eating grins (or would that be ‘cum-eating’ grins?) on their faces.
It was Tommy and Thorn’s turn. Thorn lay on his back, and raised his legs into the air. Tommy spit on his hands and lubed Thorn’s waiting entry, and then with no further ado, began to attack Thorn’s castle-gate with his own, seven-inch, thick, hard battering ram. Again and again he pushed, and each time Thorn groaned.
Ram, ram, RAM! Finally, the gate was breached and the invasion was complete. Tommy kept moving in and out, with long strokes, short strokes, long strokes. As he got into the rhythm of the pounding, he reached forward and rubbed Thorn’s chest, and tweaked his nipples. Thorn responded with short high sounds of Yip! Yip! And finally, “YIP! AAAHHHH!”
After loud applause from the others, it was Beau and Sidney’s turn. Beau announced, “We are going to give our own version of that popular movie, ‘Bareback Mountain.’”
With that he got down on his hands and knees and Beau came to the performing area, completely ‘ready’ for anything. Not a single stitch of cloth adorned his glistening buff body, except for a strip of black cloth, which he had wound around his head so that his eyes and mouth could only be seen through slits in the cloth.
Leaning over Sidney, Beau began to introduce, firmly, his seven-inch cut fucker to Sidney’s hairy, quivering pucker. With a ‘Ooof!’ and an ‘Aah,’ Sidney let Beau know that he was ready and all too willing to proceed. Not to put too fine a point on it, Beau pounded Sidney’s butt, at the same time reached under Sidney’s torso, grabbed the prince’s pole, and massaged it while he massaged Sidney’s walnut.
Finally, climax came for both men. Spunk was everywhere. The odor of testosterone was in the air, and the other six guys were groping and fondling each other’s cocks and balls.
All good things must cum to an end, however, and the eight guests sat or reclined at their ease, thinking of all they had experienced that weekend.
The four princes were almost simultaneously thinking that they would allow their princesses to get out of the palace or do whatever they wanted to as long as … as long as they could have plenty of private time with their companions, or get together with the other studly princes.
Just then Beau’s I-phone rang. “Hello … oh hello, All-din. How are things? ... Oh, Jasmine’s off again to the bazaars, collecting old lamps… Yes, pal, I know how you feel. Listen, why don’t you and your jinn come over to my place one afternoon … We can talk… Good. Bye. See you then.”
Tommy Potts, who had been lying next to Beau on a couch, running his fingers through the hair on Beau’s chest, had overheard the conversation and thought to himself, ‘Hmmm! I wonder what Arabian meat tastes like?’
All eyes turned to the seven Dwarves who were standing tall in front of their guests.
Doc smiled and said, “You all have been such good guests, we hope you will come back again, and bring your friends.”
Grumpy gave his customary ‘Harumph,’ and said “I would just love to get my hands on you … I’ll give you such a hand job… well! Harumph!”
Happy spoke up and said, “You all know why I’m called ‘Happy,’ don’t you? It’s because my mouth is so wide I can take two guys’ cocks at once. So come on. Hee hee hee!”
The others offered various physical pleasures, but it was Dopey, lovable Dopey who had never been known to speak, because, well, because he had never tried, who surprised all of them the most.
He stood, turned around, wiggled out of his robe, bent forward giving his guests a good glimpse of his glutes, and looking over his shoulder, he said … he almost shouted … “Won’t somebody fuck me, please? PLEASE!”
The End
Posted: 02/05/10