by Charley Hart

FEEDBACK to Charley

"Be careful wi’ that, mate, if you pull it off, you won't grow another." Styles grinned devilishly.

Oldroyd's head jerked up in surprise, his cheeks red. Preoccupied with stealing a moment for pleasure behind a stack of barrel staves, he had neglected to listen for footsteps. He fumbled as he tried to tuck his cock back in his trousers.

"The women ain’t good enough for the likes o' you?" Styles sat down beside him, watching his awkward effort to cover himself.

"You know how it is, eh, Stylesie? Them that ain't poxy stink," Oldroyd said, pulling a face.

"They smell a damn sight better’n you do. Here, I don't mind. Go on wi' what you were doin'." Styles took a piece of biscuit from his pocket and inspected it before biting down.

Oldroyd gaped at him. "With you watchin’? You think I could do somethin' like that with your ugly phiz starin' at me?"

"Yer not ashamed of it, are ya?" Styles leered.

Oldroyd gave a worried frown and moved a few more inches away from his companion. "Jesus, Styles! I didn’t know you were like that."

"Like what?" Styles asked through a mouthful of bread.

"Like Hornblower and Kennedy." He rolled his eyes.

Styles swatted him in the head. "Lieutenant Hornblower. Show respect, ya nick-ninny. Didn't say I was like that. I'm just sittin' here eatin' me biscuit. If you wanna churn the butter whilst I do that, it won't bother me none."

"No use, I wasn't likin' it much anyway," Oldroyd said glumly.

"That's 'cos you ain't doin' it right, you stupid sod." Styles reached over and took the sagging organ in his hand and began to pump gently.

Oldroyd jumped. "Get yer friggin’ hand off me cock, you bloody heathen!"

"Yer cock likes me friggin' hand better'n he did yours. Look at him, he’s standin’ to attention," Styles grinned.

"Damnation, Styles!" The sensations flowed from the suddenly hard, weeping flesh in Styles's hand and spread through his groin, then to his arms and legs, warming him all over. "Damn."

"You got to do it proper, not like you was rammin' a cartridge into a musket. See, like that." Grasping the shaft more firmly, Styles rubbed his thumb across the ridge.

Oldroyd closed his eyes and sighed as the rough, callused hand caressed his balls, kneading them gently.

"You like that, do you, mate?"

"It ain't right, you touchin' me like that … " Oldroyd couldn't stop his voice from shaking, or his hips from bucking upward as the firm hard fingers coaxed him towards coming.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with it," Styles said, pausing suddenly.

Oldroyd barely supressed a cry of exasperation. "Fergodssake, don't stop -- let me finish!" he hissed.

Styles gave him a playful little smile. "I know somethin' even better." He knelt on the floor in front of his friend and bent forward.

Oldroyd gasped as the warm mouth enveloped him, sucking alternating with teasing licks up and down the shaft and around the head. The pleasure ended all too abruptly.

Styles pushed himself up off the floor and tousled Oldroyd's hair. "Now you try it."

Oldroyd's mouth hung upon. "What, on meself? Yer dicked in the nob!"

"I do it all the time," Styles said coolly. "Jus' bend over as far as you can til you can get a good mouthful."

Oldroyd leaned forward, stretching until his back ached. He grunted with frustration. "I can't do it."

"Yer neck's too stiff," Styles said, grinning. He gave him a hard pinch just below the hairline.

"Ow!" Oldroyd jumped up, turning furiously on his laughing friend.

Styles grabbed his arm in time to avoid a wicked punch in the jaw. He wrestled Oldroyd back down to a seated position and punched him lightly in the arm. "Aw, I was just having you on," he said, smiling roguishly.

Oldroyd's anger did not abate. "How would you feel?" he asked hotly. "Bloody bastard."

Styles scratched the back of his head. "I reckon you're right. How about I finish what I started. Would that make us alright again?" he asked softly.

Oldroyd thought a moment, then nodded without meeting Styles's eyes.

This time the hot mouth didn't stop its ministrations. Oldroyd felt his breath quickening, his heart beating wildly as new sensations jolted through his body. It was beyond anything he had ever experienced with a woman. No one had ever done something like this just for his pleasure. He climaxed with a stifled cry, grasping Styles's hair in his hands, holding him like that until the last shudder passed through his limbs, leaving him panting.

Styles wiped his chin with his hand and picked up the last piece of his biscuit. He stuffed it into his mouth.

Oldroyd managed to coax his flaccid cock back where it belonged. He let his fingers linger on it for awhile, remembering the intense satisfaction with wistful longing. "How’d you get so good at that?" he asked at last.

"Mm? I’ve had a lot o' practice. Like you said, the women are poxy."

"I was thinkin' … maybe sometime you could show me … some other things you're good at."

"You ain't worth hangin' for, mate."

Oldroyd thought a moment. "We could use that little storage room below."

Styles shook his head. "You know who goes in there and why. They'd catch us for sure."

"They might would, but what could they say?"

Styles's grin broadened. "You know what, Oldroyd? Maybe you ain't so stupid after all."

"Yeah, well, you ain't all that ugly."

THE END

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