“You do it,” I said, taking his hand and putting it between my legs. He did me one better. He eased himself down so that we were in a sort of “...ideways 69,” his head between my thighs and his cock in my face. And he licked that chocolate off in no time. But no chocolate was necessary after that. He kept licking and flicking and tonguing like he’d almost forgotten about his cock. But when I deep throated that sucker, he flung his head back and shivered. “You’re killin’ me!” he cried. “I can’t. He sipped his wine and thought that it would be nice to be down there in the greenery. They had flopped down onto the grass and were leaning back against a lichen-covered squared stone that remained from some earlier building, perhaps, or had been the base of a sculpture now long-gone. George imagined the feeling of the cool stone on their bare skin. They had finished their beers and tossed the bottles into the ferns. What happened next startled him. The boy with the chestnut hair reached over. More

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