Skippy Written By Studstick Tenth Installment
Written by Scott Grimes (Studstick@mail.com)
Part 24 In Which The Boys Belly Up To The Bar
"In the Hummer you go, kids! Strip and pull on these jock straps. That's the boys' dress code where we're going. Your daddies are going to see a friend about his business and you two will be on hand for what needs doing. That would be cock sucking and getting fucked, I'm thinking."
Josh and I piled into the black Hummer with the tinted glass and we raced across town, laying rubber, running lights, honking more than not. Scott put us in the back seat on each side of Mr. Stone and told him to keep a finger in each of our butts so we'd be warm and ready. Dutifully, he reached down the backs of our pants and got on with his assignment. Brian did more than stick us with his digits, he poked and finger fucked us nearly non-stop, pausing from time to time to stick a finger in our mouths for re-wetting, then returning to our naughty knots. It was his on-going chuckling and Scott's glances in the rearview mirror that made us feel used. We loved it, of course. Sometimes he'd stick the finger that I'd squirmed on into Josh's mouth, sometimes the other in mine.
"You two faggots are really getting to be asshole buddies, aren't you?" He and Scott laughed so hard they choked and the Hummer veered all over the road. Josh and I squirmed and turned red.
"We're here guys! Brian, have the boys clean your knuckles again and let's move out."
`Skip and Josh, this is the A-Team Bullpit, a watering hole run by a bro and financed by our old frat, Alpha Chi Omega Kappa. Alpha-COK's got a lot of investments around here. You may be checking out some more with us, who knows?
We walked into a club with high ceilings, tiny tables, a couple of dance floors, DJ booth and a bar that took up one entire mirrored wall. Suspended from the ceiling among a lot of theater lighting were steel cages connected by ladders and walkways. Under the long bar were another series of cages, and what looked like one for every bar stool. I was beginning to get the picture about where and how guys who weren't frat brother were seated each night. There were giant sport screens suspended everywhere you looked. Four young men in jock straps and flip flops ran brooms and cloths over floors and tables.
We could see that some screens had cameras showing the entrance of the place, a couple others the interiors of restrooms. Apparently more were mounted under the bar and some of the tables showing floor to waist high views.
Behind the bar, cleaning glasses was a mountain of a man who looked like he smacked around professional wrestlers for a living. Broken nose, steely gray eyes, naked chest covered with tats of all kinds.
"Welcome gentlemen! Glad you could visit. Haven't seen you in a couple of months! Keepin' em high and dry when you want em that way? Have a seat and tell me what's yours." His accent was pure Harvard.
Scott high fived the man and called out a couple of favorite labels. He and Brian climbed the stools. We stood waiting at their sides.
"Good to see you Winston! We got tired of hanging around the house and thought we'd take our boys for a ride. They're staying at my folks old house and getting ready to go to State in the fall. Say `Hi' to Mr. Reicher, little dudes! He's a good ol' bro and our excellent host."
"Hello Mr. Reicher."
Mr. Reicher just looked at us, like he was figuring out whether to swallow us whole, or chew us up on the way down. It was chilling. Josh's and my dicks thought otherwise, of course. We quickly popped wood in our shorts.
"So... you know we're not really open in the afternoon. That's why I've got my cleaning crew in."
Like circling sharks, the four cleaners were gradually closing in on our bar group -- still cleaning but mostly watching us all with hungry eyes.
"So Scott, are you and Brian sharing or showing?"
"Just showing today, Winst. These twinks still have kinda tender twats, so we're bringing them along kind of gradually."
"Shame, but I won't be complaining. I wouldn't mind seeing these two used and abused a bit. They look like a couple of lost puppies, don't they? Do they whimper?"
"True, they do, but the little fellows can sure fetch. Get our bones, boys, get our bones."
Josh and I unzipped the men and knelt before their bar stools, sucking the meat that fell out of their pants. Scott and Brian leaned over us to grab the double scotches Winston had set in front of them. The bar man snapped his fingers and the cleaners stopped their work.
"Terry, Timmy, front and back, NOW!"
The two young men dropped their brooms and scurried behind the bar. They unfastened the big man's shoes and pants and slipped them off and away. We could see the action out of the corners of our eyes. They knelt, and between them slicked down the big man's junk and ass hole. I swear they were snarfling.
The two other cleaners began to polish the bar right next to us, staring...staring.
"Skip! Josh! Have a seat!"
I stood and followed Scott's gesture to turn around, then stepped up behind myself to the stool's foot rung and began a slow grinding descent on his impaler. It took a while even with all the lube I'd slobbered on it. That thing was a rock. A big rock.
Josh was doing the same on Brian's boy basher.
While the four of us looked at Winston and ourselves in the mirror behind him, we could also see phasing montages of our impalement on the multiple big screens. Cameras under, beside, above, and behind the bar gave an every changing geography of sexland.
"Brucie and Chucky, give the kids some happy dick," ordered Mr. Reicher. The two cleaners crawled into the cages in front of Josh and me and licked us from our balls to our knobs. Oh...how they could clean.
"Say Winst..think you could give our little guys one of your pep talks?"
The mountain of a man spit on the floor and leaned onto the bar. He stared at Josh and me, his eyes moving slowly from one of us to the other. He was starting to sweat and his pupils were dilating from the good work his cleaners were doing. His hot moist breath hit us in the face.
Josh and I squirmed a little on the men's spikes.
"If you pussies didn't have my bro's dicks up your twats right now I would be fucking you across the room until you had floor burns on your balls, then I'd..."
Fuck!! The big dude was righteously intense! He was glaring in our faces, getting redder and redder. You might say it was a little intimidating. Josh and I began squirming a LOT while Scott and Brian sipped and simply sat - their dicks unmoving steel rods in our worried holes.
On and on the two cleaners polished our poles. We squirmed some more as Mr. Reicher continued.
"...then I'd bull fuck your tiny pink puckers until they cried for pity, hold you up against the mirror so you could watch your own face as I cock punched you up and down the glass...you'd be begging..."
Winston had a very personal style of description. His glaring face was inches from Josh's and mine. It was like staring at a snarling Rottweiler about to break its chain.
"Open your goddamn mouths you cocksucking..." he worked up a ball of saliva "little spit gobblers!!"
"SPPLEEEUUUUUWW....SSSSPPPPLLLLEEEUUUUWW," he chucked a wad in my mouth, then in Josh's.
We gulped it down.
Our men reached around and trapped our pink nips between thumb and finger, then began a slow, relentless pinch. Brucie and Chucky dialed up the suction while focusing on our raw knobs. Josh and I juttered and twisted on our stud stakes as our nuts rose to the occasion.
"...and I'd fuck you goddamn candy ass pussies `til you were fucking fucked to hell and back... and then..."
...and then we came. We nearly all came. The men up our asses, Josh and I into Brucie and Chuckie, and Winston into Timmy while Terry continued to slobber at his rim.
Timmy shared Winston's bull batter with Terry as the rest of us caught our breath.. Brucie and Chuckie stooped to lick up Scott's and Brian's spooge that had been fucked out of our holes and was running over the big men's balls.
"Yep, kids! That's what the fuck I'd do to you faggots, so you'd better stick close to your men if you don't want to be limping off to college in the fall.
"Yes Mr. Reicher!" We could hear Brucie and Chuckie feed each other while Terry noisily sucked out Tim's load. Mr. Grimes and Mr. Stone chuckled and chugged the rest of their drinks, each high fiving Mr. Reicher.
"Well Winst, we're off. Thanks for the tipple, sir! We've got plans for tonight, but we'll be back tomorrow evening when you're open for business. Want to show the little dudes around some more. Again, thanks for the scotch and we really appreciate your giving the kids the pep talk. I think it made quite an impression. We'll come again some afternoon too, when the kids need a little more spit and polish.
Back in the Hummer, Josh and I fell together in a pile in the back seat. We were bushed.
"Awe Brian! Is that cute or what? The little dudes are just fuckin' fucked out, aren't they? Look the hell at Skip, man! I just love it when he's half past out and I fuck him really deep and slow until he's almost asleep then slam fuck him awake and power through to another blast. Great way to throw a fuck, man. His jerks around and he does those machine gun moans before he spooges hands free. I love to turn him face down and start plowing him again while he licks his spew from the sheets. What a hungry twat that little man is!
"Say, Brian, I've got a bet for you, when we get back to the house I bet you can't keep your dick in Josh's knob polisher for an hour without cumming. Whadayasay, guy?"
"Hhmmmm. I don't know, Scott. What if I have to take a piss?"
"Okay man. You got two choices then. Either give the little man the gift of gold, or stick his face in your ass while you piss in the bowl. If you do that, you'll have to start over from minute one. Either way, call me in to confirm your choice. Man, I trust you, but I gotta verify, ya' know? Think you can do it? Winner pays for dinner tonight."
"You and Josh go have fun. Skip and I will be in the den. His mom's calling in. He doesn't think he's in trouble, but I want to be there for him. I want to make sure he knows I'm really behind him!"
Part 25 In Which Skippy Calls His Mom
I took my mom's call.
Mr. Grimes was behind me and I was needing him like a junkie needs a fix.
"Oooohhhhhhh! How's my little baby doing right this minute, sweetheart?" Mom's voice hammered in the earbud of my headset. Scott had a bud in his ear so he could listen in.
"I'm doing really really well mom!"
Mr. Grimes dick was rooting around in its favorite pussy hole.
"It's so good to talk to my little man. Tell me how your are!
Mr. Scott's started long dicking my hole, giving me the slow slide.
"I'm fine mom, everything's totally cool...awesome!...Yyyeeeep!!"
The big man tapped my balls a few times.
"What's the matter, little darling? What's going on?'
"Urumm...nothing, mom! Well, er.. Mr. Scott said I've been working so hard that he thought I should relax a little, so he arranged for me to have a...a...a...well, I guess it's a kind of seated massage. You know, like a guy and a chair and a massage and everything."
"A chair massage! Right there at the house! What a thoughtful gentleman young Mr. Grimes is. So handsome too! Shall I call back later, son?"
"No mom, I'm cool. I think I'll be pretty busy later on."
I was watching Scott play with my nipples, reaching around me from behind to stroke my chest, reach up and hold my throat and feeling it vibrate when I talked.
"Well, Skippy, with Mr. Grimes being a rich lawyer and all, I bet he makes sure you get what's best, sweety!"
"Oh, yeah! He sure as hel...I mean, he sure as heck does, mom. Always the best. It's awesome."
Scott was sitting on a desk chair with me impaled on his dick while he packed me like a steamer trunk. We were facing a portable mirror set in front of the big screen. I was staring at my red face and helpless body as it bounced on his thighs. He sneered at me from over my shoulder. Who knew sneers were so sexy? On the screen were more moments from "Skippy Gets His Pink Pussy Smashed" and other house favorites.
"Scott licked my free ear and grumbled softly,"Tell her you've got a great big dick in your ass and I'm going to make you squeal like a little girl, you pussy!"
"Uh...uh...uh...uh...uh..." My voice vibrated as Mr. Grimes punched fucked into my guts.
"Well Skip, it sounds like that man knows what he's doing alright. He must have to be really strong to do a job like that!"
"Yesyesyesyesyesyes..hehehehehe...isisisisisis, mom, you wouldn't believe it!"
Scott rested a moment, reached across my groin and picked up my reddening hardon.
"Do you know if you're getting Deep Tissue Massage, Skip?"
Mr. Grimes smacked my abs right above my crotch curls -- smacked them fucking hard and a lot. He was smacking me right where his big knob gouged into my prostate, sending my fuck nut into spasms of joy. He pushed down slow and hard so his hand could feel the outline of his dick in my guts. I think it was some sense of ownership or something.
"Smacksmacksmacksmack..."
"Yeah...it's...really...DEEEPPPPPP...MOOOMMMMMM!!!"
"Oh Skippy! You really are getting worked over, aren't you? I'm so glad Mr. Grimes is seeing that you are taken care of. You're my little treasure!"
In my ear Scott muttered, "...and you're my little pussy!"
"Your father said he Skyped with Mr. Grimes yesterday and they had a nice little chat. They talked about old times, he said. Said they got up to some mischief years ago at a state championship and they were laughing about what a good time they had.
"Your dad also tells me that you're being worked hard but that you been a really good boy about it. I was very glad to hear it! I wouldn't want you to embarrass us, you know."
"No mom, I'd never want to embarrass you and dad." As luck would have it, just then the screen showed a clip of me diving down on Scott's pole as he Skyped with my dad." Scott chuckled in my ear.
"You know, you're really lucky to be able to stay there in that house, especially since the senior Grimes won't be returning. We always seem a bit short on cash, dear, and you know we sometimes have to stretch and stretch things, don't you?"
Scott spread his legs wide, pushing my knees open to the max as I hung on his dick, my balls rebounding on his much bigger ones every time he rammed up my wide open rump.
"Yeah mom, I want to help with the stretching anyway I can. Stretching..uh..uh... is good."
"Well, don't worry Skip! Your father said that Mr. Grimes would take very good care of you. I'm so pleased that he is! And he's so very handsome, as I said. Must be a fine father too, I would think, a really good daddy, I'll bet!" Scott's signature smirk spread across his fine face.
"I'm such a fucking good daddy for my favorite faggot that I'm going to screw your pink twat until you puke spooge," whispered Scott in my ear.
He grabbed my balls and churned them in their sack, then stuck the thumb of his other hand in my mouth. I gurgled and sucked.
"You must be hydrating, darling! Be sure you get enough moisture too! Hard work in the summer can be brutal!"
Scott pulled his thumb out of my mouth, reached between us to wipe up some of the sweat off his chest, pick up some more off his dangling balls, then brought his palm to my mouth. God what a fucking great smell!
"Slurp, lick, lick."
"That's right Skipper! Don't forget to keep your lips moist too, little one."
My butt ramming stud ran his thumb down to the base of his cock, slid it through the wetness seeping from my honey hole, then out and up across both my lips. It then went into my mouth for another nice suck.
"Oh Skip! I don't want to keep you too long, since you're obviously busy there. Remember baby, if you get home sick, you just let us know. We would understand. Well, I'll say goodbye for now and let you enjoy the rest of your body work!"
"Bye mom!" I shouted hoarsely. "Uh! Uh! Uh! Uhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh."
Scott had my dick tight in one blurring fist while his other shook my nuts like party dice. His dick was a drilling machine punch on high speed as it threaded my wide open twat.
"Bye dear! Remember, you still have a home here, dear...you can come any time!"
She was about right.
She clicked off as Scott snorted like a hog and injected my ass with his hot white wash. My roughed up prick flowed like a fountain, my cum bubbling down over his knuckles, down his balls, then dripping to the floor.
"Glad to see we got you loosened up a little, Skippy! And so good to know that your mom approves of it all. I'll bet she'd want you to clean up now, wouldn't she? You can start with my knuckles, then my balls, then my dick, then..."
Mom would have been proud of my clean floor too.
Part 26 In Which The Boys Learn To Appreciate Fine Dining
Humming along in the big Hummer, Scott drove and Brian sat in back. That let us boys sit to the side and lean over to give the men road head. Every time Scott would shift his beefy thighs would harden under my throat and he'd bounce my head a couple of times on his dick before leaving it again on my back.
I timed my sucking to the gangster rap blaring from the car's big bass speakers.
"Whew Brian! That was one of the best bets I ever lost. No problemo since I've got the big bucks. But it's so worth it to buy dinner after seeing the look on your face when the hour was up. You and Josh were fucking depraved, man! He was perving on your unit like a crazy man. It took him about two sucks nursing on your knob and you blew like a pipe bomb! I couldn't tell who wanted it more -- him to get your nut in his gut, or you to blow it in him.! By the way, Josh looked soooooo adorable, going all Joshi-big-eye-shit while your piss gurgled down his throat. Loved, loved, loved the way his cheeks and lips worked to take it all in. Contented calf at the bull tit, I'd day. I think he's got a major new memory there. I'll bet you won't be getting out of bed to take a leak ever again.
Scott pulled to a stop, dropped his window, pulled my face off his junk and said `Hey!" to the parking valet. The guy was cute and oh, so amused.
"Yeah, dude," laughed Scott. It's a Hummer with a hummer interior. When I'm on the road, I can really open it up!"
Josh and I put the dicks back in their pants, wiped our mouths and got out. We walked toward the restaurant in front of the guys. They each had a hand on one of our butt cheeks, squeezing and kneading, sliding up to slip down inside and probe our pussy lips with a finger tip. Our sport jackets had a high cut center vents in back so I guess it looked pretty much like they were just pushing us along.
"Mr. Grimes, Mr. Stone..." The doorman grinned at the men and waved us in.
Standing in front of the maitre d's podium, we waited only a moment. In that moment, Scott's other hand reached across my chest, slipped into my shirt and began to tweak my nipple.
"Ahhhhh yes! Mr. Grimes and Mr. Stone. It's been way too long. So glad you are with us tonight. Mr. Edgers reminded us that you two were in the same fraternity and to be sure to take very good care of you. I trust we've always met your expectations in the past! We have a semi private booth for you, not too near the stage. I hope you enjoy the evening. Thierry will be your server. Anything we can do to make your visit more enjoyable..please ask!"
Between Scott's poking my hole and pinching my nip, my face was hot as a lightbulb. I could hear Josh squeaking quietly behind us. He told me Brian likes to palm my buddy's balls and roll em til they sweated. From the sounds Josh was making, the humidity in his trousers had gone tropical.
"I am Thierry, gentlemen. Would you and yours please follow me?"
The place was modeled on some famous Hollywood club from the past -- all hanging draperies, art deco panels and mirrors. Pools of shadow, soft lighting. Quite the place! There were both booths and tables, each with an honest-to-god rotary phone and bowl of orchids. The waiter seated us in a padded booth along the wall, open on one side. We could see the stage where a jazz trio softly played old standards. Josh and I were seated together between the men as we all looked out into the room.
The other clubbers were all men of course. Well, men...and much younger men, collected in couples and small groups at the other booths and tables. A bar in back held five or so big guys who had come solo. They gazed across the room like a pool of sharks waiting for the blood to blossom.
While we waited for our drinks, Scott and Brian were making eye contact with most of the other guests, nodding, muttering hello, raising water glasses to acknowledge the silent toasts offered them. Their importance became ridiculously obvious. What in the hell was this frat, anyway?
"You boys loosen your ties and chill a bit. Yeah, really loosen them. That's it," said Scott. "Go ahead and pop a few buttons too, while you're at it. Go ahead, we're here to relax."
Josh and I looked at each other. I don't think we could have gotten any redder. Nervous sweat started to pit out our white shirts.
Eyes out in the room glanced at us, lingered a few seconds, then looked away. Lips smirked. Voices chuckled quietly.
"Slip off your coats, boys, you don't want them mussed. Just fold them on the seat beside you."
Our drinks came. Double martini's for the men, an angel's tit for Josh and a pink lady for me. The men had insisted on ordering. Along with the libations were four little steaming towels on individual trays. We watched Scott and Brian to see what to do. They calmly freshened their faces, wiped their hands and dropped the cloths back on their trays. Following their lead, Josh and I picked ours up.
"Wait, little dudes!" Open your pants."
Shocked (Jesus, we could still be so fucking shocked!) we popped out top buttons and zipped down, our junk falling out. Thank god for long table cloths.
The men grabbed our hot towels and plopped them on our junk. It felt SSSSOOOOOO FFFUUUUCCHHHIIINNNGGG GOOOOODD!!! The snickering and yukking from the floor sounded a little louder.
The men swabbed our gonads, wiping our boy bags, pulling our dicks...dicks that so loved to be touched. Of course those dicks showed their gratitude.
"Our little buddies are starting to enjoy themselves, getting kind of laid back I think."
Scott raised a hand and Thierry zoomed to our table like a bee to a flower.
"Sirs?"
"Thierry, I think our table needs a little early attention. Would you please send over a couple of busboys? Some extra service is required."
"Right away, Mr. Grimes!"
They weren't twins, I guess, but guys who showed up were damn close. Dark hair, dark eyes. Not so big... kind of like Josh and me and about the same age, maybe. Built though. They stood just behind Thierry, each with a crisp white towel on a wrist cuff. As they stared at us, their tongues peaked through their lips and scrubbed a little at each corner. Josh and I managed to turn redder.
"These are James and John. What do your require, sirs?"
"Thierry, our young friends seem to have something missing at their place service."
The maitre d' raised both brows in alarm.
"What? I see there are..., but what is missing sirs?"
Brian spoke up, "Their mouths aren't on the little dudes' dicks. Would you see to it please?'
"Certainly gentlemen!" Thierry clapped twice and the busboys backed up a step. He pulled one end of the table away from the booth and clapped again. "Get it done!" he commanded.
The two guys crouched and crawled in before Thierry moved the table back again. Setting their butts on the heels of their patent leather shoes, they draped their towels across the top of our thighs -- soft hammocks for our steaming junk. As they sucked in our dicks, the phone in our booth rang.
Mr. Grimes answered, of course.
"Oh hello Mark! I thought that was you I saw over there. Cute looking piece you're hauling around with you! Butt like a pumpkin. Bet it's tasty too, eh? Yeah, they're a recent acquisition and they're working out really well. Sure...they're pretty new to things but they're coming along quickly. Really eager types, these two. What? Oh hell yes! We'd be glad to share what we can tonight. I'll let Thierry know."
Sipping our drinks and being sucked from under the table, Josh and I started to swoon a little, getting really relaxed. The two cockcobblers below were anything but. It sounded like a commercial dishwasher under there.
Scott whispered to our waiter who then snapped his fingers. Another lackey immediately appeared and received instructions. Seconds later, the entire dining room went silent as the amplified sound of wet, sloppy slurping came over the loud speakers. Our table must have been mic-ed!
The jazz trio went on break.
Dumbstruck, Josh and I stared out into the room as all eyes slowly turned to us and an overhead spot brightened until we were blinded by the a follow spot.
Scott reached over and grabbed my nipple while Brian did the same to Josh. Some serious pinching pulling and twisting began, accompanied by our nervous whimpering. The sucking got louder. There were five fingers on each of our balls, pulling, squeezing...prepping the little fuckers to give their all. Our shirts were soaked in nervous sweat. We were a couple of sex crazed deer in the head lights, and we were really happy to be there.
Out in the room, the voices were getting louder.
"A hundred bucks on the kid with the big round eyes, that he loses his load first!"
"Done!"
"I put five hundred on the one with the open mouth hole to scream when he creams!"
Laughter and lots more betting ensued.
Josh and I were starting to lose it big time. We were panting, our boy bats chewed and vacuumed by fucking pros. Scott and Brian leaned in to lick our ears and coach us along, growling out instructions.
"Come on Pussy! Give it up for Daddy, baby?" crooned Scott in my ear. "That kid's working for a big tip, and you've got one in him. Give it up, little dude. Feed that fag. Make this fucking crowd happy...show em how a cute little queer boy busts a nut. Cry and moan for em, pussy! Blow out your balls for Daddy!"
I could hear Brian speaking a little firmly to my bud too. "Sparky, spit your cock slop down that kid's pipe. You goddamn faggot! Puke your balls in that suckhole for me. He'll just keep suckin' til you're dry, then he'll suck you some more. Your little man worm's going to be one hurting unit before we can pry that love leach off you. You're going to squirt so much pussy paste your eye will cross. You're going to fire into that hold til you're shooting blanks, and then you're going to fire some more! Got that, you dick chasing little pansy?"
That put us over the edge.
An attentive silence filled the room.
Gotta admit that Josh went off first, and it sounded like he'd be going off for quite some time. Of course I screamed. It went on for what seemed like minutes. We slumped, drained and exhausted as the men freed our nips, and the busboys sucked us into limpness. Then they gently dried our `nads with their linen towels. A really class place. They then zipped and buttoned our trou' just as the waiter returned, and poured glasses of prosecco for the table.
Warm but reserved applause filled the place. Scott and Brian lifted their glasses and nodded graciously at the acclamation. Thierry pulled out the table, the busboys backed out, wiping their lips on the funky towels and sneaking some quick licks at the remaining smears of jizz.
Out in the room, a lot of money was changing hands, accompanied by taunting and crowing.
"You're entrees will be out in a moment, gentlemen. Is there anything else you require at the moment?"
"I think we're fine for now. Thank you."
Then the phone began to ring. It rang a lot.
Scott: "No, he's not available. Well he is, but only to us tonight."
Brian: "Yeah, I know. Don't you love it when he gets that what-in-the-hell-is-going-to-happen look on his little jock face, and then when he..."
For maybe ten more minutes, the phone rang off the hook as other diners called and chatted. People talked about us as if we were dishes on the menu. I guess we had been.
As the food arrived, the trio came back from break and began playing. The busboys returned to spread Scott's and Brian's napkins on their laps, then picked up all the silver service from my place setting and Josh's.
"You won't be needing these," was all they said.
The men were served thick chunks of filet mignon. Our plates each held a weisswurst -- a sizeable, pale white German sausage made of tender young veal. I knew the feeling.
The men used their napkins, each picking up the end of a wurst and lifting it to our lips.
"Mouths!" said Scott. We opened.
"Down they go! Sorry you don't get to taste them." Scott and Bri shoved those things right down our pipes, straight into our guts. Fortunately, our experiences last week helped keep us from choking. Our throats were becoming quite adaptable.
"Button up, boys, and straighten your ties. Your second course is under the table. Help yourselves."
Thierry returned to pour the Burgundy as we were slid under the table. Knowing the drill, we lowered two zips and started sipping two dicks. We felt a draft as the front of the table cloth was gathered up so the room could watch us at our work.
The voices began...
"I'll bet you fifty that Grimes feeds his first."
"I'll take that bet!"
Time past. Bets were lost, bets were won.
Somewhat later, as we were finger feeding Mr. Grimes and Mr. Stone cheese and figs, the maitre d' returned a last time.
"Gentlemen. The management greatly appreciates your being with us and sharing your young guests so graciously. Dinner is on the house with our compliments!"
Overhead, we heard the men's goblets clink in a toast.
We'd found another way to our men's hearts.
A word to you junk juicers out there from Scott:
"Put your hand in your pants... pull out your big roll and feed our little friend, Nifty http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html . Like Skippy, it's loyal and ready to wait on you, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week giving you what you want, any time, all the time.
Like Skip's pussy, you gotta put something in it every once in a while to keep it going. Feed the thing some money so it's always hot, and ready. Then grab your mouse with one hand and your dick in the other and go for it! Drop some of your wad in Nifty's pussy...I mean...kitty. Keep it happy, dude!