PANCAKES AND PASSION
I was so far gone I didn’t care who or what Rory was. He could be the devil’s spawn. An alien. A flippin’ vampire. As long as I got horizontal with him, he could be the bloody Messiah for all I cared.
Screw it, I’d do it kneeling. Standing. Upside fucking down. As long as my dick had intimate contact with either his mouth or ass I’d have done it swinging by my toenails from a freaking chandelier.
Come to think of it, if his dick became intimately acquainted with any of my orifices, I’d be equally happy.
Yeah, you could say I was keen…
It’s as I always say: in for a penny. In for a pound. Or maybe, more accurately in for an inch. In for a foot! Slight exaggeration. But I’m good for at least eight inches…
He pushed me and I fell on top of the bed.
“Slow down, Pancake Boy. I want to peel you like a grape.”
CHAPTER 04: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
And peel me like a grape he did. I couldn’t help wishing he’d peel me like a banana—much quicker. Better yet, why not think of me as a juicy apple and just take a bite? Too crunchy? Well, what about a peach then?
Methinks Rory has a cruel streak…
He took forever to get me naked. I mean, are you kidding me? All I was bloody wearing was a pair of board shorts, a tee and my jocks. Oh, and my flip flops. How long should it take to shed the lot? Five seconds? Ten? Def no more than thirty! He took at least freakin’ ninety just to get my tee up around my armpits!
Like I said. The boy has a cruel streak.
Still, he did pause to suck on my nipples, so I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Okay, he nibbled too. But that’s no excuse. He had to know I had the boner to end all boners trying to punch a hole through two layers of fabric. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that is? Well, I tell you no lie, it’s mighty uncomfortable. As in, all I could think about was freeing my trouser snake, uncomfortable.
And do you know what he said when I ground it against him as a subtle hint? Yeah, yeah, I know, real subtle, but really, you have to put it into context. I wanted to scream it from the hilltops so dry humping his thigh like a dog in heat was extremely subtle.
He said, “Patience, Pancake Boy. Patience.”
I kid you fucking not.
He told me to be patient.
My dick, not to mention my undies and board shorts, were about to explode into a million smithereens and he told me to be patient.
I know what you’re thinking. Cruel… right?
He had to know. No way known could he have been unaware of my predicament. Eight inches of hot throbbing titanium is a little hard to disguise.
And I wasn’t trying to disguise it.
Quite the opposite.
If he didn’t do something real quick I was going to make Chernobyl look like a flippin’ New Year’s Eve sparkler.
When he finally got to the button of my board shorts, having detoured via my belly button, I swear I heard the Hallelujah chorus.
Which reminds me.
I think he has a belly button fetish. He sure as hell spent enough time poking his tongue in and around mine to qualify. Another time, another place, I could have gotten into his kink, but right then, a certain appendage desperately required his attention. I only had the safety of the known universe at heart. I was trying to stave off a nuclear disaster.
Can I interject right here? I love Velcro. The sound of it ripping apart has to be the best sound in the world. It’s the sound of relief. Yep, def relief.
And the flood of relief joined the flood of excitement to form a tidal wave at my crotch. I’d be prepared to swear on the bible (I know, how sacrilegious, but I can’t swear on my mum or gran’s graves ‘cause they’re both still alive) that when Rory tore apart my shorts my dick swelled another inch.
My cock was obviously feeling as impatient as the rest of me and was poking his head out above the waistband of my jocks.
Rory looked up at me and winked, licking his lips.
“Well, hello, big boy,” he cooed.
Christ, he coos well. My cock rose like a snake to the snake charmer’s lute, or whatever the hell instrument it is they played. I decided, then and there, I believed in reincarnation. It was the only explanation. Rory had to have been a mermaid in a past life. How else could he have serenaded my dick that way? I think, at that point, he could have gotten it to jump through fire hoops and thrown a somersault or two while he was at it. Hell, it would have climbed Mt Everest, sans snow gear, had he asked it to.
Yeah, I reckon I was Stretch Armstrong in a past life. That was the only logical explanation for the size and flexibility of my joystick. I could have tied my cock into a pretzel and still punched a hole in the stratosphere. You think I’m kidding. I’m not.
A lifetime later. I’m not exaggerating. That’s what it felt like. A lifetime later I was finally naked.
Rory smiled sweetly.
I panted like a dog.
Rory leaned down.
I panted like a rabid dog on uppers.
And then his warm breath fanned over the head of my aching dick… and I thought, “Fuck, don’t come! You can’t come from hot breath!”