by "Redd" Hen

The darkness was all around as Henry walked through Kingston down towards
his hammock, random thoughts of humping crossing his mind.

He had been shocked earlier when a chicken had told him she often dreamed
about Mr. Hornblower involved in frigging in the rigging with a
wildebeest , but each to their own, she didn't know about his fantasies
involving Styles .

One day he would discuss his feelings with Mr. Kennedy, but not yet, he
still hardly believed how aroused he could be by just thinking of Styles
masturbating himself with a belaying pin.

The night air was fresh and he sat down in a quiet location and began to
stroke the backscratcher he was carrying with him. Would Styles's knees
feel like that to his armpit?

What would Styles think of him if he knew how his cock grew hard as he
thought of eating McNuggets off Styles's beautiful glorious torpedo of
lust?

Henry rubbed the backscratcher against his knees whispering Styles's name
to himself. He knew he should stop and wait until he got back to his
hammock but desire overtook him and he came, screaming Styles's name into
the night.

Meanwhile, Styles had not been able to sleep and had decided to go out in
the night air. Kingston was such a beautiful place at this time of the
night. He took a bite of the McNuggets he was carrying and leisurely
scratched his knees.

He jumped in alarm as he heard a voice in the distance. Was that Henry
calling his name. He must be in trouble to shout for him with such
desperation. He dropped his McNuggets and ran towards the sound of his
squidgy-poo's voice.

Styles stumbled through the darkness towards Henry. Panicked thoughts ran
through his head. Was his squidgy-poo being attacked by a wildebeest. Was
he about to be raped by Captain Sawyer dressed as Mr. Hornblower? His
heart beat faster and he felt the pulse throbbing in his armpit.

Henry, Henry, my squidgy-poo, screamed Styles. It's alright, I'm coming,
I'll save you! Henry leaped to his feet in panic, dropping the
backscratcher and trying to untangle his trousers from around his ankles.
He fell over, his bare glorious torpedo of lust pointing in the air.

Styles! Henry gasped embarrassedly. What are you doing here? Mr. Kennedy
said you were in your hammock engaged in some humping with a chicken.

No, I was alone in my hammock with nothing but my belaying pin for
company. I couldn't sleep for thinking how beautiful your glorious
torpedo of lust was, and how I would like to stroke my knees against it,
and have you kiss my armpit, and now I see your glorious torpedo of lust
for myself I realise that not even Mr. Hornblower has a glorious torpedo
of lust to compare with yours.

Oh, squidgy-poo, Mr. Kennedy said you felt that way but I never believed
him, I thought you loved a chicken.

What! That old wildebeest, I'd rather get involved in frigging in the
rigging with Captain Sawyer, a backscratcher and McNuggets than dream of
humping with her, Ooh, the very thought makes my armpit curl.

Oh, Henry!

Oh, Styles, my squidgy-poo!

Cue soft music, sounds of humping and frigging in the rigging, soft focus
and fade.........
______________

THE END

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