charisstoma (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
charisstoma) wrote2013-10-12 06:13 pm
charisstoma) wrote2013-10-12 06:13 pm
Theo & Ed’s Anniversary or Do-you-dunk-your-penis
Title: Theo & Ed’s Anniversary
Author: charisstoma
Word count:440
Blame this on Meep, she wouldn't write this so I did, and this site http://www.mumsnet.com/Talk/mumsnet_classics/1875847-Do-you-dunk-your-penis
The bed looked comfortable, turned down sheets a white that had the sheen of luxurious thread counts and promises of embracing softness to the skin. Embracing too was the billowing comforter and equally bloated pillows gracing the presence of the headboard. Theo, when he stretched his talents, found deluxe accommodations to celebrate anniversaries.
Heaving a sigh that could be assumed to be appreciation or was in truth ‘what now’, Ed entered into the suite, carrying in the suitcases. Theo would want bang for his buck and Ed wanted romance and a time to relax with the man he loved, relax being the operative word. It shouldn’t be a talent show of who’s mouth or ass could work the best and most magic. Knowing Theo it would be both mouth and ass, in the right order.
When Theo had mentioned where they were going, it was Theo’s turn to choose, he’d hoped for a laidback place where they could be alone with a fireplace snapping warmly and dim lights and cozy cuddles, maybe even reading of a favorite story to each other. He wanted … something that wasn’t … this.
“You don’t like it,” was almost an accusation.
“It’s fine,” and when did he think that Theo couldn’t read his mind by now, 8 years later.
With a smile that a practiced lecher would envy, “I know you. You wanted something more sedate and rustic.” Gathering Ed into his arms, “But I like my comforts and even here, when the sky goes dark and the city’s light reflect shimmery off the ocean, there’s possibilities for romantic. The beach will still be there and it is long and secluded. Yet finding a small diner with delicious homey foods I’m assured is but a short walk. Or,” Theo brought out his I want to go to bed with you voice, “we can order in. Everything we need is here in this room or within easy reach, we’re together.”
Turning in Theo’s hold he looked into his husband’s eyes, “True. We do have everything we need and more. Though, where did you find a place that has penis dunking beakers beside the bed? Yes, I know what they are. They have got to go.”
Theo shrugged. “I’m told that those are all the latest thing. And we get to take them with us as souvenirs. They’re even personalized. See?” He held one up for Ed to read.
Theo and Ed
8 Years Is Just The Start
May Love Make Your Cups Overflow
Ed sighed giving his hubby an affectionate glare and putting the beakers carefully away where they would or wouldn't be forgotten.
Author: charisstoma
Word count:440
Blame this on Meep, she wouldn't write this so I did, and this site http://www.mumsnet.com/Talk/mumsnet_classics/1875847-Do-you-dunk-your-penis
The bed looked comfortable, turned down sheets a white that had the sheen of luxurious thread counts and promises of embracing softness to the skin. Embracing too was the billowing comforter and equally bloated pillows gracing the presence of the headboard. Theo, when he stretched his talents, found deluxe accommodations to celebrate anniversaries.
Heaving a sigh that could be assumed to be appreciation or was in truth ‘what now’, Ed entered into the suite, carrying in the suitcases. Theo would want bang for his buck and Ed wanted romance and a time to relax with the man he loved, relax being the operative word. It shouldn’t be a talent show of who’s mouth or ass could work the best and most magic. Knowing Theo it would be both mouth and ass, in the right order.
When Theo had mentioned where they were going, it was Theo’s turn to choose, he’d hoped for a laidback place where they could be alone with a fireplace snapping warmly and dim lights and cozy cuddles, maybe even reading of a favorite story to each other. He wanted … something that wasn’t … this.
“You don’t like it,” was almost an accusation.
“It’s fine,” and when did he think that Theo couldn’t read his mind by now, 8 years later.
With a smile that a practiced lecher would envy, “I know you. You wanted something more sedate and rustic.” Gathering Ed into his arms, “But I like my comforts and even here, when the sky goes dark and the city’s light reflect shimmery off the ocean, there’s possibilities for romantic. The beach will still be there and it is long and secluded. Yet finding a small diner with delicious homey foods I’m assured is but a short walk. Or,” Theo brought out his I want to go to bed with you voice, “we can order in. Everything we need is here in this room or within easy reach, we’re together.”
Turning in Theo’s hold he looked into his husband’s eyes, “True. We do have everything we need and more. Though, where did you find a place that has penis dunking beakers beside the bed? Yes, I know what they are. They have got to go.”
Theo shrugged. “I’m told that those are all the latest thing. And we get to take them with us as souvenirs. They’re even personalized. See?” He held one up for Ed to read.
May Love Make Your Cups Overflow
Ed sighed giving his hubby an affectionate glare and putting the beakers carefully away where they would or wouldn't be forgotten.
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Which, he says, is a good thing, cos the horse trough probably isn't big enough.
::grins::
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When Jack Met Huw:
Jack looked up hopefully at the impassive face of the Macintosh wrapped farmer. Rain dripped in tandem off their heads – Jack’s running down through his sodden fringe and off his nose; the other man’s off the peak of his flat cap.
Jack hoped the man couldn’t tell that it wasn’t just water dripping from Jack’s nose.
“You worked a farm before?” the man said finally, his voice gruff. He was younger than Jack’d expected, having become used to labouring for farmers who had undoubtedly been working their patch of land since before Stonehenge was erected.
“Y-yeah . . . I mean, yes, well kind of . . .” Jack stammered eagerly. “I’ve been travelling, see – hitchhiking, and doing day labour when I can get it.”
The man frowned. “You don’t have the look of the Rom about you.”
“W-what?” Jack sniffed loudly and resisted the urge to run a soggy sleeve across his equally soggy face. “N-no . . . I’m not a gypsy, n-not a traveller. I mean I’ve been touring around, kinda . . . well, just seeing what there is to see I guess. I was born in the city . . .”
“Hmmph,” the man’s expression turned sceptical. “City fold don’t do so well out here.”
“B-but . . . I can work . . . I mean, I’ve done a bit, and I’m quick to learn . . .” Jack could see his chance of a warm bed for the night fading. He should have stayed in the village and paid for lodgings for the night. But . . . well . . . his wallet was almost empty, and while he still had his savings to call on, that didn’t fit in with the spirit of this whole venture. Travelling around earning his way, learning to live off what he could conjure up with his own to hands.
Yeah, getting back to nature and finding yourself sounded real good when you weren’t standing in the rain with snot dripping down your face and the beginnings of a headache pinching behind your eyes.
Maybe the man would let him pay for a bed for the night – Jack wasn’t sure he could face the trek back to the village.
“Bit late in the day to start working, anyways,” the man said finally. “Can you cook?”
Jack’s heart leaped. Could he cook? “Y-yes . . . I’m a chef by trade . . . I can . . what do you . . I mean, anything, I’ll make anything.”
“No need to be getting fancy,” the man snorted. “Go on up to the house. Mud room’s by the back door – laundry and shower off it. Some of my sweats in the dryer if yer need them. Get cleaned up then see what you can find to put a meal together. We’ll talk about real work on the morrow.”
“Uh – yes, yes of course,” Jack grinned at the man, not at all disheartened when he didn’t get a smile in response. The man was turning away, back to his tractor, and Jack did likewise, when he paused a moment. “I’m Jack by the way.”
The man stopped walking, but didn’t turn back. “Huw." The single syllable was barely audible over the rain, and the man - Huw - immediately started moving again, hauling himself back up into the driver's seat. Shrugging off the disappointment of meeting someone so unpersonable, Jack continued on his own way, slogging through mud of the farmyard towards the back door of the house.
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Do you want me to repost this, this seems the making of a longer story that you might want to submit to Torquere?
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Sequel
Another Year More (http://charisstoma.livejournal.com/524480.html)