They spread out enough hay to make a comfortable bed, even though they didn’t intend to do much beyond stroke each other’s pricks. The feel of George’s hand exploring his length beneath his britches, learning what caused it to twitch and grow harder, made Bart want to do more.
And George’s prick…Bart had managed to get a brief look at it when they’d jumped into the Sound River one hot August day a few years back. It had been a pretty prick, but George had done some growing since then, and holy Moses but he was a nice handful now. Bart thought he was going to unman himself. He flipped George onto his back.
“Hummingbird, can I…can I see you?”
“Here I am.” George spread out his arms, almost in an invitation, and smiled up at him. “You called me hummingbird.”
“You move quick like one.” Bar
