Jerry
By:
Will B
(© 2009 by the author)
Ably Assisted by Ed
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
consent. Comments are appreciated at...
A part of the wall of the ballroom had collapsed and a chest containing a mysterious journal called The Journal of a Barrel Boy by Jerry Smith was found. It contained descriptions of sexual fun and games on board a ship of the seventeenth century.
On the recommendation of Sam, Trace hired a young black man, Adrian Castle, to manage the lunch counter on the patio outside the Hotel.
Chapter 11
It was the morning of the day the FARTS Conference was to begin. As Trace began to wake up after a wonderful night’s sleep, he became aware of something pressing against his butt.
After he was a little more awake, he realized that the ‘something’ was long and firm, and in the words of the old cigarette commercials, ‘oh, so round and fully packed!’
“Hmmm!” he said aloud. “Who’s that knocking at my back door?”
“It is I, the big bad wolf. Cunt-boi, cunt-boi, open the door and let me come in,” replied Jerry in a ‘ferocious’ voice.
“Oh, Wolfie, will you huff and puff and blow me away?”
“You got it, my little whore-boi!”
“In that case…” Trace rolled over on his back and pulled his legs up and held them away from his quivering pucker. “… come on in, you big bad wolf, and have your way with me!”
When Jerry had had his way with Trace, Trace said plaintively, “Don’t I get a thank you gift for being so cooperative?”
“You certainly do, my love!” said Jerry and he paid ‘lip service’ to Trace’s family jewels.
At the end of the session, Trace wrapped his arms around Jerry and pulled him into a hug and said, “I know it’s been said many times, but, Jerry, I love you so much.”
After a little more cuddling and canoodling, Trace said, “I guess we’ll have to get up and get dressed.”
“Aww! Do we have to?” Jerry ‘whined.’
“Yes, you horn-dog, we do. We’ve got company coming in a couple of hours, and I want to keep the vision of you in all your glory just for me!”
After a breakfast prepared
for the entire staff by Sam and Adrian working together, Trace called a staff
meeting.
Tapping on his water glass with his fork for attention, Trace stood and began
his remarks.
“Guys, in the last few weeks you have all worked hard to get the hotel ready for this conference. Not only have you worked hard, but I've also noticed that you have worked well with others. I have also detected that some, er, special bonding has been taking place. I want to thank you all for your hard work. Sam has planned meals that our guests will enjoy; Pete, has taken care of the cottage and room assignments.”
Clearing his throat, Trace went on, “Adrian has the lunch counter ready for the onslaught. You seven dwarves have your cottage assignments, and I understand that you have planned some wonderful entertainment for the evenings. Andy and Wall-Eye have gotten the ‘play room’ ready with all kinds of fittings that will appeal to all tastes.”
Turning to look at Jerry, Trace said, “And you, my dear Jerry, have been both my rock and my, er hard place.” That got a laugh from the others. Kevin and Anton held hands and a couple of the others looked at each other with love in their eyes.
“And so, guys, let the games begin.” Trace sat down to a round of applause and cheers.
At twelve o’clock the first cars pulled into the hotel’s parking lot. A tour bus drove up and a laughing and chattering group of men climbed out.
Pete had arranged tables where the arrivals could register and get their plastic room-entry cards. The guests were directed to the dining room where the seven ‘gentlemen’s gentlemen’ stood waiting to meet them.
When everyone was seated, a tall man with gray hair, who had an ‘ex-military’ presence, stood and said, “Good afternoon, my dear fellow FARTS. Welcome to this conference. I am the Webmaster, Chuck, and I thank you all for coming. I hope you all have a good time this weekend.”
When the applause and cheering subsided, Chuck continued, “I’d like to introduce some guys to you. On my right is Gerry, who has assisted me in running this web page for quite some time, and I hasten to say we have become good friends.”
Gerry, a handsome man in his late sixties with a mischievous grin, stood and took a bow.
“And next,” said Chuck, I’d like to introduce the guy who made this all possible. He has been a faithful contributor to tickiestories, and you may know him by his one extremely ba-a-a-a-d habit, of making the most excruciating gosh-awful puns. Guys, please put your hands together to welcome … Will!”
Will was a rather ordinary guy about seventy. His hair was white, but he did have a nice smile. Everyone stood and applauded. Will gave a wave and sat down.
Chuck continued. “I would like to take a few minutes to have people stand and introduce themselves… ah, yes, you, sir?”
A tall slender guy in his thirties stood up. “I’m Oscar, from Madison, and I just want to say I’m just wild about all of the stories, but I would especially like to meet Jaden. I love his stories about the wilderness.”
Lee stood up and said, “Thank you, Oscar. I write as Jaden and I’m happy that you like my stories.” Lowering his voice, Lee said to Oscar, “Maybe you’d like to come up to my room later, and I’ll open up my laptop and show you some of my, er, scribblings?” Lee wiggled his eyebrows.
Oscar and Lee went off to inspect some, er, ‘scribblings,’ as Lee put it.
After some more introductions, Chuck announced that beverages and light snacks would be served, and the conference attendees would have the chance to ‘munch and mingle.’
It wasn’t long before Will was in conversation with another guy about his age—his friend, his advisor, his comma-catcher, Ed. The two were chatting about each other’s stories for quite a while when Ed went to talk to some other people. Will felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned around and saw a sixty-one-year-old man smiling at him.
“Will, I’m D, and I’m so happy to meet you in person. You have edited some of my stories, and I thank you so much. How about we get some wine and snacks, and sit out on the patio and chat?”
Elsewhere, Jess and Etienne were discussing the various types of music they liked to include in their stories. They almost got into an argument over which requiem was the best. They discussed the merits of Mozart, Faure, and Durafle, but they finally decided that beautiful music was beautiful music and they would just enjoy it all.
Miguel and Jamie met each other face-to-face for the first time, and sat talking nineteen to the dozen. “Is David coming?” Jamie asked.
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. I sure hope so, but he does have a long distance to travel.”
Miguel and Will chatted about writing stories set in another time. Both had written stories set in medieval times. Will had written about seventeenth century England. “Boy, one of the hardest things is to know what things had been invented at the time,” Will commented.
“You know it,” said Miguel, “and it’s difficult to get the speech patterns of another time just right.”
“You know what I like?” Will asked. “It’s stories that have character development and feelings of real love developing between the characters.”
Deep had come up and joined them, and added, “If I might add an opinion, I see that many of the writers draw in their own real life experiences and fields of expertise. Will, you obviously love history, and Miguel has to have been an EMT.”
“Gerry loves ancient history,” added Miguel, “and freely states that he’s an ‘old soul’ and has ‘been there and done that’, and Chuck writes stories about the west, and Ed obviously loves children.”
“Yeah,” chuckled Will, and we all try to add some ‘spice’ to our stories. We may do it in different ways, but it doesn’t matter how we do it—it comes through.”
With laughter, chatter, and sipping, the afternoon passed and soon it was time for dinner. All the attendees moved to the dining room, where they found a delicious buffet had been set out by Sam with the able assistance of Pete and Adrian.
Chuck tapped his water glass and said, “Guys, before we enjoy this meal, I’d like to introduce the owners of the hotel. Please welcome Trace Mackenzie and Jerry Taylor. Gentlemen, thank you for providing this wonderful setting for what I hope will be the first of many FARTS Conferences.”
The two men were greeted with applause, cheers, and whistles. Sitting with Chuck, Gerry looked at Jerry and thought to himself, ‘So that’s what he looks like! Even though Will told me a lot about him, I could never quite picture him, but now I know.’
Trance announced, “I have your room assignments. Some of you will be in single or double rooms, but some of you will be in the guest cottages. Each cottage has its own attendant who will see to your morning tea or coffee, and make sure your rooms are made up.”
Trace handed a list to Chuck who announced, “Jamie and Miguel will be in Cabin ‘A’. Peck Harris will see to your comfort.” Peck raised his hand, and Jamie and Miguel smiled at him.
“Gerry and I will be in Cottage ‘B’, and Dirk Jones will be our valet.” Dirk waved, and Gerry and Chuck nodded.
“Will and Deep … in Cottage ‘C’, with Jake Lewis as their attendant.” Will and Deep did not know this would happen, but they caught each other’s eye and smiled. Jake waved to them.
As soon as the other cottage and room assignments were made, it was time to attack the buffet table.
“Uh, guys, before we begin,” Chuck said, "I would ask each of you to reflect for a moment, in your own way, on the food we are about to receive, and the happiness that is ours.”
Everyone was silent for a moment, and then Chuck said, “Amen.”
What a buffet! There was crab, shrimp, oysters, beef, chicken, ham, pork, salads, soups, vegetables of all sorts, and I won’t even begin to describe the dessert table! There was something to suit everyone’s taste.
When the meal was over, Trace came to the front of the room where there was a little platform and said, “Gentlemen, some of our staff have put together a little entertainment for you.
Hank Owens, twenty-three, who was six-foot-one with a slender body and ‘weedy,’ black hair, appeared on the platform wearing only a loincloth. “Good evening, gentlemen. My nickname is ‘Ass-Full.’ because that’s where I like to take it.” That got quite a few laughs, and whistles!
Ben Lowery who was twenty-five and was five-foot-ten with brown hair likewise appeared, and, like 'Assful,' was wearing only a loin cloth. He stood on the platform and smiled. “Howdy, all. My nickname’s ‘Leaky’ because I’m so full of, well, you know what I mean. Heh heh!” That also got some laughs, and some whistles, too.
Hank said, “Ben and I are going to favor you with some poetic readings. We know not if everyone likes poetry, but these are, well, just a little different.”
Hank started:
“Gary, Gary, quite the fairy,
How does your penis grow?
<Hank gyrated and groped himself. >
By groping balls and cock rings too,
And pretty boys’ asses all in a row.”
Hank took a step towards Ben.
Then it was Ben’s turn:
“Old King Cole had a very long pole
A very long pole had he.
<Ben rubbed his crotch, and he obviously was getting aroused. >
He lubed up his dick
Until it was slick,
And called for his cock-suckers three.”
Ben took a step towards Hank.
Hank had another poem:
“Jack and Phil went up the hill
To do some sixty-nine.
Jack went down and sucked Phil’s crown
And the cum that came was mighty fine!”
Hank moved a little closer to Ben.
It was Ben’s turn again.
“Perry had a bitch-slave, his ass was white as snow.
And everywhere that Perry went his ho’ was sure to go.
It followed him to the pool one day, which was against the rule.
As Perry stripped, his bitch did sip
And the jism shot out of Perry’s tool.”
Now Ben moved closer to Hank.
Hank took his turn again.
“A studly sailor out on the blue
Was horny from needing to screw.
He bent o’er the rail,
Got rammed in his tail
And said to his buddy, “It’s your turn now, so I’ll do you.”
Ben replied:
“There once was a handsome young twink
Whose cockhead was shiny and pink
He let his buddy give him a wank
Now in the circle jerk he’s a horny link.”
By now Hank and Ben were standing face to face. Hank said “You ready?”
Ben nodded, so Hank said, “On the count of three, then… One, …Two…Three!”
At the same time the two reached out to each other and pulled each other’s loincloths away.
At that moment the lights went out.
While the audience cheered, whistled, clapped, and shouted, the two ran off the stage. When they came back, wearing boxer briefs, they got a standing ovation.
To be continued...
E’s comments: Well, I’m not about to let my grandchildren read Will’s version of these nursery rhymes. They would be warped for life if they read them. I am concerned about what’s going to happen to me at this conference. It’s a good thing I packed my Geritol.
Beta’s comment: “Gerry-tol?” A little dab’ll do ya. Open wide … and swallow.
Posted: 08/21/09