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...
The ‘Friends, Authors, and Readers of Tickie Stories’ (i.e., the FARTS) have arrived for a weekend conference at the Souchard Hotel.
Chapter 12
The morning of the second day of the FARTS Conference dawned bright and sunny. It was a beautiful day for relaxing on the beach, meeting for ‘cummings’ or arousing, or carousing on the beach or anywhere else that might strike one’s fancy.
It was ten o’clock, and Adrian was busy at the outdoor lunch counter preparing lunchtime goodies. While he worked, he was alternately whistling or humming ‘Some Day My Prince Will Come.’
Pete brought out some more flour and another case of hot-dogs. “Ummm, Adrian, two questions, if you don’t mind?” he asked.
“Sure, Pete, go ahead and ask,” the tall black man said.
“Well, your name is kind of unusual. Is that really your real name?”
Adrian laughed. “Oh, no. My real is Dick Smith, but I’ve always loved the Disney movies, and I decided to take a name from the young girl, Adrianna Castelotti, who was the voice of ‘Snow White’ in Disney’s movie. I know it’s kind of corny, but some people like corny jokes.”
“Hah hah!” laughed Pete. “OK, Adrian. Now I know. I’ll bet very few people would ever get the connection.”
“What’s your second question, Pete?”
“What exactly are you making today?”
“As you can see, I’m rolling out biscuit dough. I take some dough and wrap it around the hot-dogs, it’s like ‘pigs in blankets,’ only I’m using hot-dogs instead of sausages.”
“I see that,” Pete said, “but why are some made so the hot dog extends for an inch beyond the dough, and some are so made so that only the tip of the hot-dog is showing?”
“Oh. Huh! That’s because some guys like ‘em cut and some like ‘em uncut.”
“Oh. Hah Hah hah. Hah hah hah!” Pete was nearly doubled over from laughing so hard.
“Adrian, you’re a real asset to the hotel! I’m glad Sam hired you.”
“An Asset, am I? I thought that Hank was “Ass-full.”
“I’d smack you on the butt if you weren’t holding that knife. I never smack anybody when they might retaliate?”
And so the banter went on.
Gradually the conference attendees straggled out to the counter. Some of them looked like they were still half-asleep.
Jamie and Miguel were arguing. “Did, too!”
“Did not. And you were louder!”
“Well, I like that.”
“Hey, guys. Whassa matter?” asked Pete.
“It’s Miguel,” said Jamie. “He claims my snoring kept him awake, and it was his snoring that kept me awake.”
“Well, you kept me awake, too, and after I saw you come out of the shower, I…”
Suddenly both men started to laugh. “Come on, Jamie, let’s have some of these… oh my! Look at those… What do you call them, Adrian?”
“Ahhh! I haven’t quite made up a name for them,” he replied. “I guess ‘pricks in blankets’ might be a mite gross.”
“Perfect name,” said Miguel, “and I’ll have one of each, because I’m very … versatile.”
Jamie snorted.
Will and DD came out of the hotel. They looked a little sleepy because they had stayed up late discussing many different topics: life, the importance of faith, writing and editing stories. They had never met face to face before this, but they were fast becoming good friends.
Chuck and Gerry showed up, looking ‘bright-eyed and bushy-tailed’ as the saying goes. They had been friends for so long that they hadn’t stayed awake talking, but, after discussing a few details of the conference, had fallen into a deep sleep.
Lee and Oscar came out onto the patio. It was obvious they had hit it off right away. They each chose a couple of Adrian’s culinary masterpieces and a can of soda, and strolled down the beach where they found a nice dune where they could spread their blanket, shed their inhibitions, and get on with whatever it was they had been getting on with (or should it be ‘getting off with’?)! <wink>
During the morning, T. Henry was moving around the beach with his digital camera taking both candid and posed shots. Sometimes he took shots of one person; sometimes it was a group shot.
One hunk asked him, “If I do a strip here on the beach, can you take a series of shots so that if I print them out, I’ll be able to bind them into a booklet? I want to be able to flip the pages so my boy friend can watch me strip?”
“Sure,” said T. Henry.
The hunk stood up. He was wearing black shorts, and his well-muscled chest and abdomen was smooth and tanned. He had a dark treasure trail of hair leading down from his navel. He grinned and faced the camera.
<Snap>
He unbuttoned the top of his fly.
<Snap>
He ran his hands over his chest and pinched his nipples.
<Snap>
He edged his shorts lower….
<Snap>
And lower….
<Snap>
The top of his pubic bush appeared.
<Snap>
The shorts were lowered a little more.
<Snap>
He turned around and pushed his shorts so that his taut ass cheeks appeared.
<Snap>
He turned around again and faced T. Henry. Now his flaccid, but thick, man meat lay hanging down.
<Snap>
He stepped out of his shorts.
<Snap>
Turning sideways, with one hand he massaged his butt cheeks and with the other he manipulated his organ.
<Snap>
Once again he faced T. Henry and his erection was at full staff. He moved closer so T. Henry could get a close-up.
<Snap>
Using his hand he pumped his handle….
<Snap>
And pumped…
<Snap>
And pumped some more….
<Snap>
And shot five spurts of creamy man-milk…
<Snap>
<Snap>
<Snap>
Right in T. Henry’s face and all over his camera.
<Snap>
<Lick>
<Lick>
<Swallow>
“Thanks, T. Henry. What do I owe you?”
“Nothing, my friend! This is on the house. I’ll send you your prints as soon as I can print them out. I’ll even send you three sets.”
“Thanks a lot… Oh! Almost forgot! My name is Dick B. Long. I live at 69 Wisteria Lane, Wistful Vista, California.”
That afternoon, Will and DD led a discussion on the ‘care and feeding’ of authors and editors.
“DD, I notice that whenever someone sends you an e-mail telling how much he enjoyed your story, you forward it to the editor. I’ve gotten several from you.”
“Yes, Will, I feel that my editors do a great job making my stories look better, and I appreciate all their hard work. This is the only way I know how to thank them,” DD replied.
“I’ve taken a leaf out of your book, and I’ve started doing the same for my editors or readers or however they want to be known as.”
A distinguished man with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard raised his hand and said, “Good afternoon, Gentlemen. I’m Terry, and I always send notes to the authors when I read stories that I enjoy. I only wish I had more time in the day to read.”
“Don’t we all, mates. Don’t we all!” came from another distinguished looking older man with a monocle.
“David! I’m so glad you could make it,” Miguel welcomed the owner of Pan Stories.
Chuck and Jamie went to shake the newcomer’s hand.
When the greetings and meetings had quieted down, DD said, “I hope all of us, authors, editors, readers, and fans, appreciate all the hard work that these webmasters and site managers do to keep the web sites alive and well.”
Will said, “Guys, will Chuck and Jamie and David and Chris and Miguel please stand up?”
“I have enjoyed posting my stories on three websites,” Will went on, “And I have never met with anything but friendliness, encouragement and a willingness to answer questions from any of the webmasters. If I’ve left anybody out I do apologize.”
“Gentlemen, put your hands together rapidly and loudly to show how much you appreciate what these men do for us.”
The applause and whooping and hollering went on for several minutes. The five honorees stood there beaming at the crowd, and, if I’m not mistaken, one or two eyes were glistening, and one or two hands surreptitiously brought out handkerchiefs to wipe one or two eyes.
After that the discussion group dissolved into small groups of three or four talking about their favorite stories.
That evening, after a scrumptious dinner prepared by Sam and his small kitchen staff, a number of guys went down to the playroom.
The playroom had a number of padded benches and several raised platforms, all padded in blues and reds. The walls were decorated with pictures of well-endowed nude men. Hey! They were pictures of Greek gods, so there was absolutely nothing pornographic about these classical statues. I think. Well, I’m pretty sure.
<Wink>
Terry, Lee, and Oscar stood up on one of the platforms and began to do a strip tease while music from an I-pod played the traditional music to which strippers have bared their all for years.
Will, Chuck and Gerry sat and led the cheering, and calls of ‘Take it off.’ “Show More!’
At the end of the strip show, the lights went off and a mass orgy ensued. Fingers, nips, butts, lips and cocks all went into over-drive.
* * * * *
In the Hotel’s office, Trace and Jerry were discussing the Hotel, the Conference and lots of little things.
“Jerry, this hotel is going to be a success, but I think we’re going to have to hire more staff.”
“Trace, you’re right,” his lover and partner said, “But where would we put them?”
Just then the computer, like some dramatic deus ex machina, began to blink.
“Jerry, come read this. It’s an e-mail from Sheik Mohammed.”
To be continued...
E’s comment: Well T. Henry got more than he bargained for didn’t he?
Posted: 09/04/09