Finished by Hand by William Anthony Read Free Book Online

afraid it’s the boys’ bedtime.’
    I feared that. I slowed my hand on my raging hard-on, and swallowed with equal difficulty, as the four young men disengaged and stood up. Their succulent pricks glistened with saliva, their beautiful faces were flushed with the fever of performance. ‘Yes, yes … Of course, of course,’ I gasped.
    â€˜Bid the gentleman goodnight, then, boys.’
    They swarmed around me in my armchair, kissing me on the forehead and cheeks and lips and nipples, the cock and balls. Tongues flashed wetly around scrotum and shaft, the naughty young sprites. I surged and shimmered, filling my grasping hands with as much hot flesh and heated appendage as I could, before Bertrand slapped their bubbled bottoms and sent them scurrying off up the stairs of his home.
    The eroticist then assumed a position of oration by the mantelpiece, his new poem in his hand. I assumed a position of aural posture at his cock, the better to suck on his member as he mouthed his latest explicit creation.
    He began reciting, and I took his cock in hand, stroked the turgid, purple-headed tool, gripping its heft and groping its length. And as his obscene rhymes rattled in my head, I twirled my outstretched tongue around his cockhead, lapped at his shaft; then sucked up as much of his massive manhood as I could and tugged with my lips and mouth and licked with my tongue.
    I must confess, however, that even as I rejoiced at his words and cock, my addled mind was still upon the four young men, replaying in my brain their erotic entreaties of earlier, picturing their perfect young bodies and faces and maturely hard dongs. The stunning scene I’d witnessed was one I just couldn’t shake, no matter how in how bellicose a fashion Bertrand spoke or how belligerently I sucked on his throbbing cock and twisted his shaven balls and jutting nipples.
    The man soon read my dirty, dizzy mind, being the pornographer par excellence, empathetically realising that my mouth and hands were just going through the motions. He broke off his seductive soliloquy to shrewdly observe, ‘My boys made quite an impression on you, eh? Perhaps you would like to wish them a more intimate goodnight in their room?’
    I popped his cock out, licked up some of the stringing slobber. ‘Oh, I say, Bertrand, I’m terribly sorry if –’
    He waved his hand and his cock. ‘Go ahead, old boy. Go ahead.’ He bobbed his wise head and wettened dong. ‘We’ll be waiting for you down here, fear not.’
    I sprang up out of my crouch and turned tail and raced up the stairs. Gaining the second floor hallway, I streaked down the carpeted length to the open bedroom door at the end. The young men were not in the blissful grip of the sandman at all. Rather, they were grappling with one another again, naked on the spacious feather bed, their bronze limbs flinging and flailing, bold cocks bouncing and banging against each other, pressing into hot flesh. My sharp intake of air caught their ears, and they instantly flung themselves inert upon their stomachs, four golden boys with four sets of cheeky buttocks all in a row.
    â€˜I – I just came to – ’
    â€˜Kiss us goodnight!’ they chimed as one, giggling into their pillows. They all then reached back simultaneously and sunk their slender fingers into their taut buttocks, spread the caramel mounds, revealing four pert puckers.
    It was a sight to put starch in the sturdiest of even a straight man’s phallus. The boys’ smooth, slender, sunkissed bodies laid out on the bed side by side, bum to bum, their cute, curvy feet and tapered, tender toes tilted upwards, their stretched back-hillocks clasped between burning white fingers, their bared, blossomed buttholes ablaze with virginal pinkness. I swallowed the lump in my throat and trembled to the thump in my chest, my cock snapping almost straight up into the air, rigid as the flagpole