WARNING: This ADULT fiction contains sexual accounts between boys

and men with boys AND IS UNSUITABLE FOR MINORS.

SNOWY WHYTE AND

THE SEVEN ANORAKS!

A FAIRY TALE FOR BOYS.

by Graham Day

Authors note:

  1. This story may contain descriptions of sexual acts between boys and/or men and boys so if this is not to your tastes, please leave now. If you are under age, or if it is illegal in your state or country to read or possess material like this then it is in your own interest to leave now.
  2. The author owns all copyright to this story. A copy has been placed in this archive for your enjoyment. Please do not distribute it to any news groups and/or other web sites without permission of the author. Authorisation for the free transmission of my unaltered writings can be requested from the author.
  3. This story is pure fiction. Any resemblance to any individuals, real or fictional, living or dead is purely coincidental.
  4. The author neither encourages nor condones any acts of illicit or underage sex, nor does he encourage any of the unsafe sexual practices described herein.
  5. This story is a parody of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs by the brothers Grimm, which is in the public domain, and is in now way associated with any property of the Disney Corporation.
  6. You can e-mail your constructive comments to at: g_day@hotmail.com

DICTIONARY ENTRY FOR NON-BRITISH READERS: ANORAK (PERSON)

Function: noun - BRITISH DISAPPROVING

A term that has been used since the 80's meaning a Geek or a Nerd. A person who is very interested in the trivia and unimportant details of their hobby and does not like to be sociable. An 'anorak' is always male, usually unfashionable and possibly a train-spotter.

-PART SEVEN -

"Happy"

12

WEDNESDAY MORNING EARLY

The tent was totally dark as Billy Bunion lay there listening to the sounds coming from outdoors. Billy could hear a single bird twittering a slow and mournful song in the dead pre-dawn silence. He wished the fucking bird would choke and die as its song was hurting his head.

His guts ached, his tongue felt thick and his mouth tasted like something had died in it. Billy Bunion was experiencing his very first hangover -- the consequence of having shared one-too-many strong lagers with the other occupants of the blue tent. But the rest of Billy' condition was worse. His ankle hurt where Adolph, the Doberman, had bitten him; his face hurt where Grumpy Smyke had bopped him, smack between the eyes; and his balls hurt where Jock had kneed him in the groin. Billy Bunion was not a well boy.

The fourteen-year-old closed his eyes tight as his hand crept under the safety of his sleeping bag, reaching for his cock as it came to life. In his mind, he could see himself thrusting in and out of one of the nubile women from `Bare Breast & Bottom Barracks'. Hot beads of sweat ran down the imaginary woman's face, while she caressed his neck and body -- which, in his imagination, had abruptly transformed a stringy fourteen-year-old, into a virile model of strength and masculinity. From behind he could see the tight arse of the imaginary Billy pounding away, forcing his suddenly huge dick in and out of the willing hole before him.

The imaginary Billy's legs were parted a little, and he could see his balls, hanging in their hairy sack, gently smacking against female flesh with every forward thrust. Every few seconds the imaginary Billy withdrew his gigantic hairy shaft, teasing the bitch, before ploughing it all the way back inside, and straining the woman's hole to capacity.

With one hand the real Billy grasped his six-inch hard-on and started to rub himself backwards and forwards, with the other he pinched his nipples and caressing his chest. His aching head was spinning with images of the illusory lovers, as they approached their climax.

The bitch was looking more and more like Ms. Lobelia Lobotomy, the security guard from `Bare Breast & Bottom Barracks'. Bunion would show her no mercy! The genteel lovemaking in his head transfigured into a wild rape scene!

He could hear animal like grunts from the phantom Billy, who was now violent and angry. His huge cock had doubled in size yet again!

With one huge thrust the daydream Billy slammed into the bitch making her cry-out - loud enough to startle even the real Billy! Caught off guard by his own fantasy, Billy's hand was pulling down in mid-stroke, when his body went ridged and he could feel his balls tighten up against his body. Fuck they hurt!

Frozen for what seemed like hours, Billy Bunion lay there, basking in the throbbing ache that centred on his tender bollocks. He felt his cock twitch in his firm grasp as the last warm cum dribbled out making a squeegee mess in his pubic patch.

This was fucking awful! This was becoming a habit! Every night he would leave his mark on the inside of his sleeping bag -- it was starting to smell as vile as the interior of Smyke's nasty anorak. He was becoming a wanker!

It was difficult not to, though, the talk between the guys in the blue tent seemed to be all about sex --how to chat up a girl; how to coax her back to their tent; how to get her between the sheets; then how best to fuck her senseless. Billy joined in the talk, of course, but he lacked the fire-in-the-belly of his tent-mate, Jack Jerker.

Jack was his best mate. They had been mates forever. No matter where they went, or what they did, Billy and Jack did it together.

It had started off innocently enough they had discovered the joys of wanking together when they were only nine. They could simply not keep their hands off each other.

Even when they were at choir practice they would grope each other much to the amusement of the other choristers. Often, during the lesson or the Vicar's boring sermon, they would pull out their todgers and have a good wank.

When they were about twelve, things started to become a little difficult for Billy and Jack. They both started enjoying wet orgasm, that year, and cum made a hell off a mess of their red cassocks and white surplices and therefore, tossing off during the service became more problematic

That was when the discovered the broom closet at St Giles! And then Damien Smyke discovered them in the broom closet! Since then, things had just become harder and harder.

Smyke and Prim pursued the couple relentlessly; they could not seem to get enough! Billy though it was an easy way of getting no-commitments sex, but Jack Jerker had reservation! He said he hated Homo's and that he, Jack Jerker, was not a queer and he did not want to do the dirty thing ever again!

They had argued a hell of a lot about it recently. After their encounter here in the showers on the first night Jack had accused Billy of "not fucking caring less where yer puts yer dick." He reproached him for being bisexual, saying: "Ya can bleeding fuck Smyke's shit-hole one minute, an' chat-up the birds the next! It ain't natural."

Billy lay there, covered in his own cum, feeling sorry for himself. What could he do in this situation? Should he laugh or cry? Should he laugh - because it was so ridiculous? Should he cry - because the situation was so hopeless? Jack was desperate to prove how straight he was, and Billy was trapped into trying to keep up with him. All Billy Bunion actually wanted was to have a good cum with anyone, or anything, willing to help him.

Billy heard footsteps padding around the tent and he abandoned his maudlin thoughts to check on his own safety -- could it be the brown-tent seeking revenge? It was Jack he must have been to the bathroom - perhaps his nose had been bleeding again.

Billy stayed where he was, not moving. He could feel his chest was covered in a layer of drying cum and he didn't want to have to explain that to Jack. Jack had suddenly decided that wanking was for losers, and Billy didn't want to be counted as a looser!

Billy opened an eye, he hoped that Jack wouldn't notice he was awake. Fuck his eyes hurt! He was certain he would sport two shiners in the morning. The only light in the tent was the deep blue glow of the moon through the canvas of the tent. He could make out little more than a shadow of Jack walking in between their sleeping bags. Jack whispered Billy's name, checking to see if he was awake. Billy made no reply.

Billy saw his mate throw his St Giles choir T-shirt on the floor and he could make out Jack was wearing only his jeans. He kicked off his trainers and his hands reached for the buckle on his belt. Seeing Jack stripping just inches away from where he lay was starting to get Billy worked up again. He could feel his dick start to fatten once again. Billy Bunion longed to grab hold of it and give it a couple of tugs, but there was no way he could have done it without Jack noticing and there was no way he wanted to risk another argument with Jack.

He could hear Jack unzipping his jeans the gentle sound sent a shiver up his spine. Jerker parted his jeans and that gave Billy a chance to eye up that Jack's basket, encased by white cotton Jockey briefs. He saw Jack's hands moved back to his jeans as he began to move them down his legs. Involuntarily, Billy licked his lips and swallowed hard.

The bottom half of Jack Jerker was becoming that of a man hairy! It was a bit weird, for a fourteen year old. His chest was totally smooth, as was the whole of his upper body, except for a sparse patch of hair under each of his arms. But his scrawny legs, his arse and his crotch were covered in a thick layer of dark hair. Billy had been watching this grow and develop since they had both entered puberty.

Jack let the jeans slip to the floor before stepping out of them. There he was before Billy, literally a few inches from his face, in his underwear, which bulged obscenely. The bulge in the front of Jack's underwear, fascinated Billy. He could make out the familiar outline of his mate's cock as it rested on top of his balls but it might have just been his imagination, as the light was very poor. Poor Billy's cock twitched again, to let him know it was still there!

Jack whispered his name again. Billy froze! He was sure that his mate had caught him ogling him. With relief Billy saw him bend and take something out of his rucksack, but Billy couldn't make out what it was.

Jack sat down cross-legged on top of his sleeping-bag with whatever it was, he had fished out of his bag, then he turned on his flash-light, but quickly twisted it away from Billy so as not to wake him up. The illumination from the Ever-Ready provided Billy with a much better view: he could tell that the thing in Jack's hand was a magazine. As his mate flipped through it Billy could see the front cover and he could make out the title:

'Big Tits & Hot Slits'

This little revelation caused Billy's cock to surge forward to its full length. He could feel his heart race inside his chest as he realised that Jack had been checking to see if he was asleep, so that he could have a quiet toss off with a wank mag! Clearly, Jack was pretty adept at ignoring his own `wankers are losers' injunction when it suited him.

Bunion's mouth went dry as Jack began to turn the pages of the magazine, stopping periodically and staring at the page. He saw Jack move a hand down to his underpants and massage the beast that lay beneath.

A few pages on and a several gropes later, and Billy Bunion knew he had to get hold of his own dick and go for it! Billy felt precum leaking out of the tip and running in little rivulets down his shaft, provoked by the remarkably horny show before him.

His fingers made contact with his engorged member and Billy involuntarily breathed a sigh of relief. This was not want he intended.

"Sorry mate, did I wake ya up?" he heard Jack say. His body froze and Billy swallowed hard.

Never much of an actor, Billy did his best pretending to be waking up from a deep sleep.

"Alright, Jack?" Billy greeted his mate. "It's okay mate, I'd only just drifted off." He said as Jack calmly hid his crotch with the magazine.

"How's yer foot, doin'?" Jack asked, recollecting the injuries from the previous night fracas with the occupants of the brown tent, and the siege of `Bare Breast & Bottom Barracks'.

"Not too good, mate. It `urts like fuck." Billy knew better then to ask how his mate was faring, for Smyke's lowest, dirtiest street-fighting techniques had done Jerker's looks no good at all.

"Vat Smyke is bleeding certifiable!" Jack grumbled. A `Glasgow kiss' - or head butting, smack between the eyes - had rearranged Jack Jerker's face. His eyes were swollen into tiny slits, his nose looked as if it were made of putty by a disturbed modern artist, but fortunately the fountain of blood had dried up.

"Totally barking!" Agreed Billy.

"`E should be banged up for keeps!" Thank God Felix and Doc had dragged Grumpy Smyke off before he hospitalised Jack.

"Wot ya up to, then?" Billy asked, trying to forget the previous night. But Billy already knew the answer to his question.

"Nofing." Jack said, a little bashfully. Then he held up the magazine showing Billy the front of it. "It's just vat I was finking about them birds next door." A grin extended across his bruised acne-covered face.

"Yer a'orny fucker, Jerker and vat's a fact!" Said Billy. Jack giggled. Then Billy suddenly thought of something. The fourteen-year-old whispered nervously: "But, wot about Dick?"

"He ain't' `ere, is `e." They both turned and Jack shone the torch light on Dick's empty sleeping bag.

"Where is `e? It's va middle of the fuckin' night." A look of surprise spread over Jack's ugly pockmarked face.

"Fucked if I know, mate." He said, the added conspiratorially: "Look at this, then. Cop a load o' these knockers. It will give yer todger something to get stiff over." Jack said, as he moved over on his sleeping bag and patting the side of it, indicating that Billy should sit next to him.

Billy's mouth went dry and a rather pathetic, "Wow!" was all he succeeded in saying.

Jerker laughed at his mate's reaction, causing his bruised face to twist painfully. With that, Jack reached down and in one fluid movement, raised his bum off the sleeping bag, pulled his underpants down and threw them on the tent floor, confronting Billy with his naked cock.

Billy hauled himself out of his sleeping bag, making a vein attempt to hide his still painfully hard erection as he leaped over and onto Jack's sleeping bag. Moving his hand away, Billy revealed a fine six-inch cock, fully erect. It angled up Bunion's thin belly and extended up to his navel.

To Billy's satisfaction he saw Jack's dick was unmistakably half-hard. It must have been about four inches long at that point and fatter than Billy's and the fucker wasn't even hard yet! His shaft was covered in hairs about half way up. Jack's bush was pretty luxuriant for a fourteen-year old.

His big balls were cushioning his thick prick. Billy had noticed right from the start, when they were about twelve that Jack had balls much bigger than you would expect in a lad that age. They hung down loosely in a sack; itself covered by a layer of hair.

"Ain't yer the geezer wot told me all wankers are losers?" Billy joked.

Jack laughed derisively and he waved the dirty magazine at Billy as he said: "Fair cop, mate!"

Jack opened the magazine again and held it up for their inspection. Billy was forced to lean over to get a look at the pictures. Now, Billy Bunion was ordinarily a big fan of porn. Hell, the flash of naked flesh, either male or female, usually got him wanking in a second, but he had no need of added visual stimulation, he was hot enough at the prospect of a wank with his mate. Notwithstanding his lack of interest in 'Big Tits & Hot Slits', he keep the act up, conscious of Jack's sensitivity on the matter. In Jack's book wanking off with your mate `because it was Bird that got you going' was okay -- while wanking off with your mate `because you thought he was hot,' was not!

"This is cool, just like old times, mate." Billy said a little nostalgically.

Jack reached an arm over Billy's shoulder in a matey kind of way, as he flipped the pages. With each page that was turned, Bunion sneaked a peak down between Jack's legs. Sure enough his five-inch, semi-hard was getting bigger with each picture that they looked at.

By the time they reached the centre fold, Jack's poor thing positively ached between his legs and he seemed to have discharged litres of precum. It shimmed down the sides of his six-plus-incher. The fourteen-year-old, was longer and thicker than Billy's six-incher and his mate could clearly see the way it bent to the left.

"Cor, get a load o' vat, mate!" A small moan escaped Jack's lips as he studied in detail the picture in front of them. Jack Jerker allowed himself to stroke his stiffening rod. The two teenagers' naked sides were touching.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer Billy, placed a hand on Jack's hairy leg, no more than an inch or two away from his straight mate's crooked cock.

Jerker snapped his angry eyes around to glare at his mate.

Shit, Billy thought I've been caught. He'd spent too long looking at Jack's dick and not enough time looking at the page in 'Big Tits & Hot Slits'. Billy's six-incher was pointing skyward, and Jack was certain that Bunion was aroused by him and not Miss November in 'Big Tits & Hot Slits'. Jack's ratty face bore a sneer of disgust, as he looked Billy up and down. Billy had never seen his mate looked at him like that before. In the silence that ensued, Billy could almost feel Jack Jerker confronting a dilemma.

When he looked back up, Jack's eyes stared directly into his. Billy wanted to say something, anything, which would get him out of the hole he was in. But what the fuck do you say in a situation like this? Billy's lips parted; he was about to speak, when Jack threw the magazine down on to the tent floor. Shit, this was it; he'd landed himself into another fight with his best mate.

Jack's face was so close to his, that Billy Bunion could feel his breath. Then he saw, to his amazement, Jack's split-lip twist into a wicked smile: a smile that creased his ugly battered-and-bruised face and altered it entirely.

"Nice one mate!" Jack Jerker said very softly: "Blimey, me cock don't `alf turn ya on, ya sneaky perv! Yer not gonna turn out to be another poofta?" So saying, Jack gave Billy's erect cock a frisky tug.

Then, without so much as a by your leave, Jack leaped across and straddled Billy Bunion's legs. Leaning in their cocks touched! It was as if fireworks were detonated all around Billy Bunion. He could feel the throbbing head of Jack's hot tool against his own and their precum mingled together. The straight lad gripped his hands around Billy's back, roughly pulling their bodies together allowing the two hard teen cocks to squash together.

He could feel the hot skin of Jack's, hairy todger pressing against the side of his own. Then Jack did it! Jack started rubbing his off against him! So astonished and thrilled was he, that Billy almost forgot to carry on breathing.

The precum which had leaked between their bodies, acted as lubrication as Jack polished his shaft against his mates boner. Jack's cock was so big, so hard, Billy could almost feel it burning into his skin. God! Billy could not believe it was happening -- Jerker and he had never done this before!

As his mate moved rhythmically on top of him, Billy alternately found his cock immersed in Jack's big furry scrotum, then he felt Jack's cock rub against his own smoother nuts.

Plucking up his courage, Billy managed to feel up between their legs as he continued rubbing. Billy's fingertips played with their balls, alternating between Jack's nuts and his own. Rolling them around in his fingers -- he caressed each hairy nut separately and then rubbed the four of them all together at the same time.

"Oh fuckin', yes, mate!" Jack groaned out in ecstasy.

Their sexual friction proved to be long and rough. It was as if Jack were trying to scour his cock with his wiry bush and trying to direct his bent cock to Billy' most sensuous parts. Bunion reached a hand down and took hold of his arse. Sweat seemed to be pouring down his mate's crack. It was hairy and inviting.

Their acne-wracked stubble-covered face's ground against each other and Billy was badly tempted to kiss his mate. Jack began rubbing himself harder up against his mate. Looking into his mate's eyes, Billy saw Jack's slits were slightly glazed over, as if there was nothing else he would rather be doing right then than rubbing off with his buddy. Jack's body seemed to be aflame with lust for this guy.

Billy looked down between their bodies, at their erections pushing together. He breathed in the mixed aroma of sweat and precum, which lubricated their coupling. Billy looked back up at Jack again and smiled, as if to say that they were doing a good job.

"Fuckin', yes!" Billy hissed his satisfaction. Billy's moans were stifled by Jack's groans.

Sweat continued to drip relentlessly from all over their bodies and Billy's nose was overcome with the scent of Jack's crotch -- it was becoming too much for him and he knew it was time to get to an end.

Jack continued to writhe around on top of his mate on the floor of the tent! He massaged his bent prick up and down, against whichever part of Billy seemed to need his attention.

It felt so perfect - so hot! Billy Bunion could feel he was coming close to orgasm as they continued buffing willy-on-willy.

Then Billy Bunion climaxed! He screamed as he rammed his cock home. He could feel his balls come up to meet the base of his dick, as he felt his cum start to rise up from his balls, shooting through the length of his cock before spraying out between their bodies!

"Spunk up, mate! Sperm on me!" Billy begged and Jack Jerker complied! He felt his cock blast-off into orbit.

"Fuck `ere I cum mate! Yessss!" Jack Jerker wheezed as he thrashed around even more. His orgasm seemed to last forever, but really it was no more than half a minute as he ejaculated wave after wave of his hot sticky cum all over his mate. Jack's legs flailed about and his body rocked from side to side as he filled the gap between them with loads of teen slime.

Sex hung heavy in the air, as they started to settle down, both lads were still whimpering and panting.

"Tell yer wot, mate, bet them queers ain't never thought `bout getting off like this, then!" Jack said, very proud of having invented something so sexy, which a straight lad could safely engage in with an equally straight mate!


******


Like the bough on a willow, Dick Flaunting-Flasher might have been bowed but he was not broken. He was a Flaunting-Flasher, after all, and they could not take that away from him!

He pondered what would his father, the Regimental Sergeant Major, might have done in this situation. The answer came to him -- firstly, he would not give up! If he wanted to get into `Bare Breast & Bottom Barracks', then he would get in!

Secondly, he would not consort with the lower ranks! And, whatever way you looked at it, Jack Jerker and Billy Bunion were decidedly lower class!

Thirdly and finally, you do not show weakness in the face of the enemy, and in this case the enemy were the appalling perverts in the brown tent!

So, in true military style, Dick wrapped himself in his camouflage anorak and made his way to the abolition block were he slept on the concrete floor, as any trained S.A.S. man would! In the early light of dawn, he took up position, - bivouacking in the soft rain -where he could keep his eye on his target - the high hedgerow defence-line between him and `Bare Breast & Bottom Barracks' - and he waited. As any trained S.A.S. man could tell you, time was your friend in a battle, and Dick Flaunting-Flasher was at war!


******


The names of Jack Jerker and Pip Pratt appeared on the Breakfast Kitchen-Duty Roster for Wednesday morning. This was both foolish and dangerous.

Foolish -- because Pip's idea of breakfast catering was handing out one of his M&M's, in an appropriate colour (brown for Fred, yellow for Doc), to each of the campers.

Dangerous -- because in his current mood, there was good chance that Jack would lace their scrambled eggs on toast with rat poison!

Snowy Whyte and Fred Marley bridged the gap and volunteered.

"What is the time, Fred?" Asked Snowy, who was worried that the large pan of scrambled eggs, he was stirring, would be dried out before the campers turned up for breakfast.

"Well, mon, da is another thing," began Fred as he gingerly picked up two further slices of hot toast, which the ancient toaster had just spat out, "my watch has disappeared. I don't know if the strap broke in da fight last night, or if it was stolen by dem blue-tent thugs."

"Oh dear!" said Snowy sympathetically, but in reality, he was rather consumed by dark thought about the turn of events at "The Woods." What had been intended as a fun getaway, was turning into a trail by fire. Snowy wished he knew what to do to put things back in order.

Fred was silent for a while as he studied the boy with the wooden spoon in his hand. Now that Snowy had removed his turban of bandages, the black teenager could see how truly beautiful he was - the kind of unnatural beauty that caused hearts to stop. Fred loved his steely-white hair, which Snowy wore longish and curved into a natural pageboy style. Fred loved his slender, but beautifully proportioned, body. Snowy was probably around five feet tall, was Marley's guess. Fred loved the boy's smooth-flesh, which seemed to have no suntan whatsoever - flawless snow-white skin.

"I suppose Felix will have to cancel da hiking trip, after last night." Fred was heartbroken, as he had, secretly, been anticipating sharing one of the two-man tents with the blond lad.

"Well no, not really!" Said Snowy, who then disclosed the results of a pre-dawn conference in the bungalow, where he, Felix, Doc and Bashful had agreed that the proposed overnight hike through the Peak District National Park would go ahead, after all. The Barbarians from the blue tent would naturally be excluded. Besides Billy Bunion could not walk the distance, because of the dog-bite wound to his ankle. Felix's apprehension about leaving the three of them alone and "The Woods" undefended, was resolved by the simple precaution of asking Doc to stay behind with Pip and Dopey Pratt. Armed with his mobile phone, Doc could call the police, if there were any further trouble.

"Dat is good, mon!" Said the handsome black tenor! Snowy could no longer resist the temptation! Stretching up, he petted Fred's shock of shinny, blue-back, crinkled hair, which felt so wonderfully springy beneath his fingers.

Then, with a disarming smile on his face, but a mischievous twinkle in his pretty eye, Snowy said: "And while we are hiking I will have plenty of time to think about how to fix you up with a boyfriend!"


******


Pricilla was up early on Wednesday morning and was sitting, at the kitchen table sewing her very latest Girl Guide merit badge to the to the sleeve of the shirt of her uniform.

All of this industry, and even the fact that she was up before the crack of noon, was part of Pricilla new resolution to be more like the three women she most admired. Hyacinth Snodgrass, who had introduced her to the joys of scouting and the Girl Guide movement; Chrysanthemum Whyte, her beloved mama, who was working hard at repairing the family fortunes; and Poppy Baker, their new cook-housekeeper.

"But why does he have to come back?" Pricilla whined irritably. It had been so wonderful NOT having Snowy Whyte around the place. She could not comprehend her mother wanting to have the boy back.

"Your Mama explained it to you already, sweetness, it is part of the terms of succession. If your stepfather is to be declared the 14th Earl of Windsor, then he and his rightful male heir, need to take up residence in Whyte Hall."

"But it is so unfair!" Pricilla grizzled like a four-year-old, who had just peed in her panties. "Why can't I be his heir?"

"Ah but you can be! You will be!" Said Poppy Baker, who was busily whipping up scones with cream and newt-egg jam. These delicacies were intended for Mrs. Whyte and the attorney, who sat discussing family business in the Library at Once upon a Time. "That is precisely what your dear Mama is discussing with her lawyers, my sweet! Once the title is secured, should something awful happen to Snowy, then the title and ownership of the Whyte Hall estate, can pass down through marriage to the wife of the Earl and her children! But you must be patient, my sweetness."

"I hate being told to be patient!" Pricilla stomped her feet. "I am very, very patient!"

"Think of it my sweetness, your mama will be The Right Honourable Lady Whyte, the Countess of Windsor!"

"What will that make me, I wonder?" asked Pricilla thoughtfully, "If the daughter of a Queen is a Princess, does that make the daughter of a Countess... a Cuntess?"

Mrs Baker blushed but said nothing. Pricilla returned to her sewing.

Showing friendly interest, Mrs Baker tried to make out what was on Pricilla's very latest Girl Guide merit badge, which the stocky girl was fixing to the sleeve of her uniform. It was rather puzzling - two objects, which looked alarmingly like bombs, were crossed - sword-like, on the embroidered scrap of fabric.

"Now, Pricilla my sweet," said Poppy Baker scrutinising the badge, "and what, exactly, did you win this badge for?"

"I told you before, Poppy, it was for masturbation technique!" Said Pricilla petulantly, "Those are crossed dildos! And this week I am going after the Beaver Badge!"

"Oh my!" Said Poppy Baker, who could never recall these, vastly more interesting categories for scouting accomplishments, from the Girl Guide movement when she was a girl. "I could never manage knots, let alone trapping wild animals."

"Oh no, silly!" said Pricilla in her most irritating piggy-voice, "the Beaver Badge is for cunnilingus!"

"Oh... that is a form of martial arts..." suggested Mrs Baker.

"Mrs Baker!" Pricilla snorted in indignantly. "Cunnilingus is licking out the Scout Mistress's lovely hairy pussy! Goodness you are old fashioned!"


End of file: SNOWY-WHYTE-7.5 The story in continues: SNOWY-WHYTE-7.6

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