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This is a work of Fiction. If the names of the characters bring to mind actual people that you may have seen somewhere . . . perhaps on television? . . . I assure you these characters are not those actual people. This is true even if, as you read this story, and you picture all that it describes (big as life on the flat screen between your ears), some of the fictional characters in this story look and sound remarkably like people you may have seen on TV.
IN THE TENT What Happened Next
It is interesting to note that throughout the hours of footage every cock remained erect, and both men and women seemed to cum repeatedly and copiously, with the men's refractory period apparently measurable in nano-seconds.
More than one of the investigators who were trying to make sense of `the incident' asked a baker if he had a recipe for madeleines.
And if so, could he, please, share it?
Matt has Noel over his knee and is slapping his buttocks with a wooden spoon, grinning gleefully and leaving garish red marks on the goth comedian's pale skin. Noel's head jerks up with every stroke, his eyeliner making his wide eyes look even wider, his open mouth dark against his pallid face. He is smiling dementedly and occasionally howling. It sounds not so much like a dog howling at the moon as like a man performing an exaggerated imitation of a dog howling at the moon.
Paul is naked now except for his trainers, leaving you with the distinct impression of a silverback gorilla. His face is buried between Prue's thighs as she sits, legs spread, on the gingham altar. The judge stands with his feet apart and his arse sticking out, and he makes no protest when David drops to his knees behind him and begins to lap greedily at his arsehole.
After several minutes of tonguing him, the handsome baker stands, spits on his cock, and slowly presses into the older man's hole. Paul flinches and tenses up for a moment (David's prick is not small) then relaxes and pushes himself back till the last inch has disappeared inside him. Every movement of David's muscles beneath his skin is clearly visible as he grabs Paul's waist and begins to slide his prick in and out of the judge's hole. He falls into an easy, regular rhythm, pushing in deep, nearly pulling out, taking his time with the fuck.
Tobias is on his back, and Tamal is on all fours. They are positioned like two legs of a triangle, Tamal's face hovering above Tobias's, their lips meeting again and again in a lingering kiss. Tobias's legs are spread, and Richard is plunging his short fat cock into the trans man's pussy. The Welsh daddy is clearly having a great time fucking him, even though (or perhaps, because?) Tobias is several years younger than his youngest child.
Joao is squatting behind Tamal, slowly sliding his monster cock all the way in and all the way out of the Indian baker's arse. Dodzi strolls over, and Joao pulls out and offers him a turn. The camera operator gives a cheeky grin and shoves his cock into the open hole in one swift thrust. Tamal groans and kisses Tobias with even greater intensity.
Dodzi thrusts vigorously in and out several times before giving Joao his place back. As Joao returns to fucking Tamal (somewhat faster and harder than before), Dodzi nudges Richard's shoulders forward, giving himself access to the carpenter's hole. He gently slides his long thin prick into the Welshman's arse. Richard pauses his fucking of Tobias until Dodzi is fully inside and then resumes his movement with renewed energy, pushing as deep as he can into the set runner's pussy as he thrusts in, and impaling himself on the full length of the camera operator's long black prick as he pulls out. Richard's hole gets noticeably redder and puffier as it rubs against Dodzi's bristly pubes, but if he feels any discomfort, it does not slow him down.
William is lying on one of the baking stations. Or more accurately, his shoulders are lying on the station, and his legs are draped over Guy's forearms. The young recording tech's hips are suspended in midair, where the electrician is jackhammering his arse. William's soft, unblemished skin could not look more unlike the extravagant tattoos that swirl across Guy's lean torso, but their faces share nearly identical expressions of lustful eagerness.
Now Matt is fucking Noel, who crouches on all fours, on display atop one of the baking stations. The pairing of the two hosts brings to mind a small but determined bulldog mounting a large black Labrador retriever. (To picture this properly you need to imagine the black lab getting really excited by the activity.)
Hamish appears suddenly behind Matt, and he positions himself so his enormous cock pokes into Matt's plump bum every time he withdraws from Noel's arse. As Matt's thrusts become more exaggerated, Hamish presses in deeper, until the roly poly co-host is skewered on the full length of the Scotsman's cock. If before he brought to mind a bulldog, he now resembles nothing so much as a pink piglet wrapped in the arms of a large and hungry bear.
Glenn is on all fours on the floor, with Prakash at his back door and Anthony at his front. The sound recordist and the production manager are both pounding into the baker pretty hard, but Glenn is not complaining. Anthony and Prakash trade places several times before the trio reconfigures, this time with Anthony on all fours receiving the same treatment. The older blond's eyes are wide (apparently, he is not used to this much action), but he gamely takes what Glenn and Prakash are giving him. After Anthony has had the Sikh's fat brown cock in his arse, his mouth, his arse, his mouth and his arse once again, the three men shuffle their positions one more time. Now Prakash is on all fours, and he quickly proves that his firm and meaty arse is more than just decorative. With a bulky white bear at each end, the dark-skinned muscle man is grunting happily at every thrust.
With his cock in the Sikh's arse, Glenn gets a mischievous expression. He pulls out and staggers on stiff legs over to a refrigerator, where he grabs a bowl covered in cling wrap. He quickly fills a piping bag, his back blocking the camera's view. He crouches behind Prakash, whose mouth is still occupied with Anthony's prick, and pries the Sikh's arse open with three slick fingers. The piping bag nudges into his hole, and Glenn squeezes. Prakash gasps and jerks his head up (whatever is in the piping bag must be quite cold), but he shakes himself and goes down again on Anthony.
Glenn tosses the empty piping bag aside and shoves his prick back into the Sikh's arse. He pulls the helmet head all the way out and plunges it back in, and soon his prick and pubic hair are covered with a pale pink froth (compared to the pink of Prakash's turban, the froth might as well be white). Glenn drops to all fours and buries his face in the hairy brown arse, greedily licking and sucking at the frothy hole.
Since Glenn's recipe for the day's signature bake required a cherry Chantilly cream, the investigators concluded that this is most likely what he is eating out of Prakash's arse. Given the gusto with which he slurps it up, it must be remarkably tasty. It is not clear if Prakash's arse was `cherry' at the beginning of the day, but at this moment it clearly both is and is not.
Matt pops up out of nowhere and gobbles the cherry froth off of Glenn's prick and pubes. Glenn fucks Prakash again, generating another foamy mess, and Matt again licks him clean. Glenn offers his place to Matt, and the plump co-host plunges his face into the Sikh's arse crack. He eats his fill, mounts the muscular brown arse and soon fucks a load into the hole. Now it is Glenn's turn to lick a cock clean and eat out the sweet and salty hole.
Anthony wants in on the fun, and the three men rotate round Prakash, who patiently sucks whichever cock appears in front of him and welcomes in whichever cock comes knocking at his back door. Twenty minutes later he is still pushing out Chantilly cream for whomever wants a taste.
Nearby, Tamal is now sprawled on his back, his delicious brown curves contrasting with the angular whiteness of Andrew's thin body as the Irish baker thrusts into him. They are snogging madly as the doctor takes a rough shag, moaning and muttering "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck" under his breath whenever his mouth is free. This is presumably not the way he talks at hospital.
Andrew brings down a bowl of crme patissiere from a cooking station and dips his hand into it, feeding delicate mouthfuls to Tamal, who sucks it off his fingers as Andrew continues to fuck him. The young ginger scoops up bigger dollops that Tamal gobbles greedily, then whole handfuls that he smears across the doctor's face. Tamal laughs, the red of his generous lips framing the white of his glistening teeth and framed in turn by the soft yellow of the custard that streaks his cheeks and chin.
Andrew pulls his dick out of Tamal's arse, dunks his whole hand in the crme pat, and starts fingering the doctor's hole. Two fingers slide in effortlessly, followed easily by three. Four fingers, greasy with custard, stretch him further, and Tamal's eyes and smile grow wider along with his hole. Andrew cocks his head as if asking a question, and Tamal hesitates just a moment before nodding assent. His mouth goes to a tight crimson `O' and his brows lift as Andrew folds his thumb into the palm of his hand and slowly pushes five fingers in where the four fingers have been. We see Tamal's chest rising and falling rapidly in his excitement. Suddenly a look of astonishment lights up his face: Andrew's hand has slid fully inside him.
Their eyes are locked on each other, and they seem oblivious to Nigel's camera zooming in on Andrew's pale wrist, which has disappeared inside the soft brown pillows of Tamal's arse. Andrew shifts his arm slightly, gently, rocking his forearm barely a centimeter in and out. Tamal thrashes about in ecstasy, his back arching and his arms waving wildly, his eyes bugging at the intensity of the sensation.
"Nigel, get your arse over here!"
someone yells, and the camera slides away to where Hamish is standing. He is in a shallow squat, wiggling his huge backside towards his fellow camera operator. Tamal's epiphany has apparently inspired him.
"Gimme yer fuckin' fist."
Ever the professional, Nigel keeps shooting with one hand while grabbing a container of lard with the other. He works gobs of lard into Hamish's hole, smears lard on the skin around the hole, and rolls his hand and wrist in the goopy mess till it's completely coated. He acts with the calm confidence of someone who has done this many times before.
He brings his five fingertips together into a sort of cone and, with deliberate pressure, pushes the point of the cone into the larded hole. As Nigel's fingers sink in deeper and deeper, the increasing width stretches Hamish's hole wider and wider till suddenly the fattest part of the hand is past the tightest part of the hole, and three inches of wrist slide smoothly inside.
Hamish grunts and mutters "Oh fuck!" in a tone of quiet reverence.
Nigel slides in a little deeper and then starts withdrawing, pulling against Hamish's hole from the inside, the heel of his hand emerging briefly before slipping back inside. He zooms in for a closeup of his own pale forearm, the rooster tattoo vanishing into the fat, ruddy arse.
Nigel slowly picks up his pace and increases his range of motion. Eventually his hand is pulling all the way out of Hamish's arse and plunging smoothly back inside till his elbow has completely disappeared from view. He looks confident and in control as he pummels Hamish's gut from the inside, and the Scotsman is responding with an unending stream of heartfelt but not especially creative exhortations, mostly along the lines of "Aye, you fucker, fuckin' punch me fuckin' cunt."
Nigel obligingly curls his fingers into a true fist, grabs more lard, and pushes the blunt ball of bone and flesh against Hamish's gaping hole. There is a moment of resistance before the fist pops past the muscular ring, and Hamish yells,
"Oh FUCK yea!"
as it slides up inside his gut.
At some point Joao bounces over to see what's up. His jaw drops as he realizes what Nigel is up to (his bicep, at that particular moment in time). Joao strokes his huge cock and looks on in awe, until Nigel winks at him and says,
"You want to give it a go?"
Nigel slides his arm out of his colleague, scoops up a fistful of lard, and smears it all over both of Joao's hands, wrists and forearms. This task takes barely a minute, but Hamish is not interested in waiting patiently. He growls at them,
"Stop dickin' around back there, fuckers, and get back in me cunt!"
Nigel ignores him and offers Joao instruction,
"Hold your hand like this. Just press it in. Don't force it, but don't be shy. You'll feel the muscles open up. Once you get the feel of it, just go to town."
He laughs and adds,
"He's a pig Đ he can take whatever you give him!"
The skinny assistant follows instructions eagerly, and he shoves in a bit too quickly. Hamish grunts, reaches his big hand around and grabs Joao's arm, immobilizing it until his arse adjusts. Once he lets go, Joao resumes his in-and-out at a slightly slower pace, and there is much happy grunting and a resumption of the stream of obscene encouragement.
As Joao's right arm grows tired, he shifts to his left, and before long he is thrusting one hand in deep, pulling it all the way out, and thrusting the other in, switching off between hands with every stroke. Eventually the Portuguese twink's arms need a rest, so he sticks his cock in instead. It looks fully as thick as his wrist was. As he wraps his greasy arms around Hamish's torso and thrusts into his arse, Nigel starts sliding fingers in next to the huge prick. Two fingers . . . three . . . four . . . half his hand, curled around the pummeling shaft . . . . Nigel wraps his hand as far around Joao's prick as he can reach, slowing its motion, and together the prick and the hand push through Hamish's ring, slowing fucking back and forth so the huge camera operator can feel the fatness of the fist-wrapped cock squeezing back and forth through his stretched-out hole.
Hamish roars,
"FUCK YEA!"
but even he has limits. After a few minutes of this intense treatment, he reaches around, grabs Nigel and drags him in front. (Nigel's camera, which has been faithfully capturing this whole scene in extreme closeup, gets very shaky for a second or two.)
As Joao continues to fuck him, Hamish takes hold of Nigel's head and starts to face fuck him, forcefully. Nigel is not a big man, and the idea that this jaw-dropping slab of meat can even get past his lips seems implausible in the extreme. But Nigel is a walking (kneeling?) testament to practice making perfect, and the massive cock works its way deeper and deeper with every thrust. When Hamish finally roars and blows his load, it goes straight into Nigel's belly.
. . . to be continued . . . .