Irish Tea & Biscuits
Note: This story is weird enough as it is - please do not read if you are under eighteen.
Email is tell.machus@aol.co.uk - say hi if you want.
He had been walking for four and a half hours and he was shattered, so when someone stopped to offer John a drink he accepted without thought. The hike had been an impromptu decision, a spontaneous reprieve from a difficult few days, and as such his preparation had been next to nil. He had finished the bottle of water from the shop before he had even started climbing.
"Good day for it," said the older man. Short grey hair, stubbled beard, eyes the colour of the trampled grass under their feet, here was a figure that did not give John any cause for alarm. John wiped his eyes and squinted at him through the drizzle that had over the past few hours soaked him to his very bones. "You wouldn't want to have climbed it when the sun's out," the man elaborated.
"I already have." Smiled John. "I'm always a state no matter what the weather's like."
"I wouldn't say that," the older man said slowly, and for a moment John didn't know where to look.
He took another few gulps of water and handed the bottle back.
"Thanks. What did you say your name was?"
"Conn. What's yours?"
"John. At least there's not long left now; we're only about ten minutes from the car park I think."
"But you're shivering," said Conn.
There was silence.
"I'm sure I'll be grand," said John. He pulled the up zip of his mac a little further.
"It's sheltered up in those trees, and I've some hot tea with me. Five minutes and guarantee you'll feel right as rain."
John gazed at the line of forest beginning a few metres from where they stood. All he knew was that he needed to get out of the sharp damp air that seemed to cling to his very lungs.
"Well, all right." He said, feeling that he could not reasonably refuse.
Some minutes later John was perched on a large moss ridden rock in the gloom of the spine-like coniferous forest.
"So did you make the tea before you came, or do you carry the teabags separate?" He asked, eying Conn's bag which lay abandoned on the forest floor. "My da always always says it doesn't taste right if you make it too soon, though I never notice a difference."
"You're white," said Conn. "Open up your coat. I'll warm you up a bit."
As he spoke the older man had moved across the rock so that he was pressed right against John's side.
"Probably just because I'm sitting still." John thought it would be too impolite to edge away.
"I'll warm you up," continued Conn, slipping his arm in around John's side. His big hand rubbed the thin t shirt underneath.
"So the tea," broached John when a few moments had passed, feeling that the utter stillness of the branches high above required something to be said. He rubbed his pink, numb hands on his knees to try to bring some life back into them.
"Of course," said Conn.
He was so close that John could feel the older man's chest vibrate as he spoke.
"I've been brewing it just right, keeping it nice and warm," he continued. He gave John's side a light squeeze.
John watched as Conn reached down with his free hand and unzipped his fly. Pressed into Conn's embrace as he was, so close that he could feel the damp heat of the man's shirt against his bare arms, John was afraid to move or to react in any way.
"Go on," said Conn. "Kneel on down there between my knees. I've got it ready for you."
John dropped to the ground, keeling in front of the rock so that he was level with the older man's open fly. His knees dug into the tree roots and pebbled earth beneath him. John smiled nervously at Conn, who winked in return, then looked closer at the view in front of him. A dense, brown bush peeked out from the man's trousers around the pink and vein ridden cock that hung limply to the side.
Conn leaned back and picked up his member.
"Open up wide," he sighed. "The tea's ready."
John had still not come to terms with what was happening when the steaming yellow current began trickling through his lips and over his tongue.
"I'm starting off slow, but I'll have to start pouring faster in a minute. Nod when you're ready."
When John had swallowed his second mouthful of the hot, slightly acidic liquid he signalled for more. He knew that if he chose he could get up and walk away - that under the circumstances he would not be considered impolite for simply leaving. But something about the situation fascinated John in a morbid way, and kept him frozen to his spot.
"Might help if you lock your lips over the spout," said Conn, adding "that's a good lad," once John had obeyed.
Almost at once the trickle began to gush into John's mouth and it was all he could do to swallow at the right pace. The piss was everywhere - under his tongue and in his teeth; a few drops trickled down his chin but most flooded warm and full into his belly.
When John had swallowed the last few dribbles that Conn shook into his mouth, the older man lifted John up onto the rock and sat him on his lap.
"What did you think of that?" He murmured into John's ear. "Brewed in my bladder just for you."
John smiled tentatively. He knew that this was strange - stranger than anything he had ever done - but something was drawing him into the moment. Slowly, very slowly, he was pulled closer and Conn pressed his older lips against his. John felt the man's stubble rub against his cheek and the thick, scaly tongue slip through his teeth and into his mouth.
They seemed to kiss for hours; they seemed to kiss for days. It was Conn who drew away several seconds later.
"Are you hungry?" He whispered.
And then Conn was bent over the rock, trousers down to his knees, arse sticking out to where John kneeled in wait. They had both taken off their shirts, and his back legs were white and odd looking in the evening light. Without prompting, John leaned forward and slowly licked the red, angry looking hole in front of him, pressing his nose into the deep crack and breathing in the man's stale musk - savouring it.
"The biscuits are ready," murmured Conn. "Straight out of the oven. Lean back and scoop them in your hands."
In his cupped fingers, John caught the three big, green veined turds as they emerged from Conn's ass. Without prompt, John cleaned the hole in front of him, wetting it good and well with his saliva. Then Conn pulled his trousers back up and sat opposite.
"I think there's enough to share." He said.
John looked from the turds, warm and damp in his palms, to Conn.
"Don't worry," continued the older man. "I'll feed you first." And as he spoke he lifted half of the top biscuit with his big hands and brought it very close to John.
"How does it smell?"
John nodded in response. He could not find the words.
Slowly, Conn brought his palm full of shit closer to John's cheek until John felt the heat of it on his skin. Conn proceeded to smear it, thick and messy, over his face and his lips, pushing his big dirty fingers into John's mouth when he had finished. Then he he brought another heap of his load and pushed it straight in through the younger man's teeth.
John groaned with pleasure as he chewed. He swallowed several mouthfuls of the sour, rank waste. When he had ingested most of it, John felt a mushroom slip in between his teeth; probably left over from Conn's dinner the night before.
When he had finished John reciprocated and smeared the red, veined cheeks of his benefactor with the brown green nectar, right up to the grey hairline. He watched as Conn chewed his own shite and swallowed almost instantly, grinning contentedly with dirty teeth.
"Let's share the last one," he said.
John lifted the large turd and they each took an end in their mouths. John stared into Conn's green eyes as he sucked on the perfect biscuits, taking it piece by piece through his lips and onto his tongue.
Then John couldn't control himself any more. He edged forward and pressed himself against Conn, so that their chests were touching and the rest of the shit was squashed and mushed between their mouths as their hard lips drew together.
Conn fell backwards and John lay on top of him on the forest floor, both sweaty shit smeared messes. He yanked down his own jeans and then slid Conn's trousers off as smooth as he could.
He started to wank his own cock as they continued to kiss and paste the shit in each other's mouths with their hard tongues.
But then -
"Oh," said John, and his eyes expressed all the panic that he felt.
"Yes," snarled Conn. "Yes, come on, vomit over me, come on and be sick everywhere."
John felt him grab him his own cock and pound it, even as John felt his stomach muscles contract and heave faster and faster and then -
"Oh yeah," Conn whined, as John's sick flooded the older man's mouth in the middle of their dirty shit kisses. The vomit kept coming; overflowed and spread between them. It was slimy and wet between their rubbing torsos. The smell of it burned John's nostrils and the taste of it in their mouths made his stomach contract again.
"Oh yeah," Conn repeated, as they continued to kiss and wank with vomit soaked and shit smeared skin and then, before he knew what was happening, John let go of his full bladder and his hot piss sprayed up between their heaving bodies, soaking them even more.
Conn pushed John over and, to the younger man's surprise, he watched as Conn's throat contracted and he too vomited over them. Thick yellow liquid drenched John's chest and arms; soaked his hair and gathered in his ears. He thought he could feel pieces of undigested pasta on his abs. John wanked his cock, his back and his arse throbbing with energy against the rough stony forest floor beneath them. He was in bliss; shit, piss and sick drenched heaven.
Conn started to pound faster above him.
"Ready for one last treat?" He shouted. He moved up so that John's head was enclosed by his thighs and his throbbing, leaking cock was all that John could see. He could feel Conn's ball sack rub against his neck as the man moved closer and closer to the edge.
John stared up at it, soaked and dirty and naked, willing the cock to do it's worst.
"Yeah," grunted Conn. "Yeah, come on, come on, come on -"
John opened his mouth wide. He smeared the thick, salty goo through his mouth, over his teeth and the roof his mouth and began to pant as he felt himself reach the same point. He licked the rest of the cum over his lips.
"Hold on," said Conn, and then John felt a hard, slimey tongue pushing against his own hole.
"Oh," he said, for that was all he could say. "Oh, oh, oh -"
"Hold on," said Conn, and John felt the tongue plunge deeper inside him. His breaths started to come in shallow pants, the air grating against his throat as his skin began to throb with heat.
"I can't -" he whimpered.
Conn stuck his big, shit soiled thumb in John's mouth for him to suck on as the younger man climaxed. He raised his head to John's torso, and then slowly, carefully, licked every inch of young skin so that the mix of seed and saliva was spread glistening all over John.
Afterwards they lay together on the earth, still soiled with each other's fluids.
"What did you think?" Conn murmured into John's ear some time later with his dirty lips.
John only smiled and gazed up at the branches high above, almost invisible now in the evening light, for there were no words.