(Author Note: This is the fourth story in a series. This series is based on characters and situations originally introduced in the CP novels, Camp Torowa Falls and Camp Torowa Falls 1964 .
This series may be read independently of those novels.)
For best results, you should read the first three chapters of this series first.)
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God rest ye merry gentlemen
Let nothing you dismay
Remember Christ our Saviour
Was born on Christmas Day
To save us all from Satan's power
When we were gone astray
O tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" - Traditional 18th Century Carol

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Mike and Jamey enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in on Saturday morning. By the time they had showered, put on clean clothes and headed downstairs it was nearly 9 AM. As they descended the stairs they could smell the aroma of some kind of breakfasty goodness. Mike briefly worried that they were too late and breakfast was no longer being served. He needn't have worried.

It turned out that the main dish for breakfast was a large Cheesy Sausage Breakfast Casserole and there was plenty left. Best of all, it was kept warm in a steam oven so that latecomers would not be stuck with a dried out main dish for their breakfast.

Mike and Jamey enjoyed the casserole, which featured eggs, smoked Amish sausage, Gruyere cheese and bits of croissant, which was a new one on Mike. He had to admit that the feather light French bread product really made this casserole wonderful. They had a side of buttery grits with their slice of delightful eggy casserole. Add in some milk and freshly squeezed orange juice to drink and it was a princely breakfast - one of the best Mike ever had.

After breakfast Mike remembered to ask Uncle Corey about something he had been wondering since last night. "Uncle Corey, did you and Major Groff serve together?"

"No," said Uncle Corey. "Major Groff is a retired Army officer. He is a regular customer at our gun store."

"You own a gun store?"

"Yes indeed, Mike," said Uncle Corey. "Jerry and I own a store called the Weapons Locker Armory in north Jacksonville. We sell pistols, revolvers, rifles, shotguns, combat knives, accessories and ammunition."

"Weapons Locker Armory?" said Mike. "That's kind of an odd name for a gun store, isn't it?"

"Not really, Mike," said Uncle Corey. "In the Navy a storage cabinet or closet is called a locker. So the cabinet where we store our weapons is called..."

"A weapons locker," said Mike. "Cool, do you sell machine guns?"

"No," said Uncle Corey. "Selling semi-automatic weapons requires a Federal Firearms License (FFL). Jerry and I have FFLs. So do several members of our management staff. But to sell, or even own, fully automatic weapons you need a special Class 3 FFL. Those licenses are extremely difficult to get, even for veterans with honorable records. And the Weapons Locker Armory is a veteran-owned and operated business. All of our employees are veterans."

"But Grandpa," said Jamey. "You and Uncle Jerry are retired flag officers, you can't get one of those Class 3 FFL licenses?"

"Sure we could, Jamey," said Uncle Corey. "It would take time and money, but we could get them... if we actually had any interest in owning or selling full-auto weapons. We don't."

"Why not?" said Mike.

"Jerry and I are big believers in Second Amendment rights. But that doesn't mean we believe that everyone should have fully-automatic weapons. Besides, if you know what you're doing and really know how to shoot, you can deal with virtually any kind of threat with a semi-automatic weapon. You've seen Jerry's semi-auto pistol and mine. If either of us is ever forced to fire at a real human being in self defense, that person won't be around long."

"You'd shoot to kill?"

"Definitely, Mike. If I have to defend myself and other innocent people, like you boys in the alley last night, I will put down the assailant as quickly as possible. That shooting the gun out of the opponent's hand is a bunch of nonsense that only happens in movies. When you are faced with a lunatic who wishes to die in the commission of a horrendous crime, the only way to deal with them is to grant them their wish before they can commit the crime."

"That reminds me, Grandpa," said Jamey. "Do you still own the Browning 22 pistol you used to teach my Dad and Uncle Will how to shoot?"

"I sure do," said Uncle Corey. "I take it you guys would like to learn to shoot?"

"Yes, sir!" said the two friends in unison.

"Very well," said Uncle Corey after looking them up and down, as if taking their measure. "I'll take you both to the Armory one day next week so you can see the place. I'll pick up some 22 shells while we're there. Then we'll hit the range and get you guys initiated into the gun fraternity."

Gun fraternity? Mike suddenly wondered how complicated this "initiation" was gonna be.

The two boys agreed to the plan and thanked the old sailor. He seemed quite pleased to be asked to show them how to shoot.

Commander Dan took the four boys out shopping after breakfast. It was Christmas Eve, so this would be their final opportunity to pick up those last minute Christmas gifts. Mike asked about good Christmas gift ideas for their hosts.

Commander Dan groaned and shook his head. "I wish I could help you guys out with some good ideas. The problem is that my parents just buy things they want, when they want them. This makes them a real pain in the butt to shop for. I usually try to find something unusual or entertaining that they might enjoy."

The weather was overcast with an occasional drizzle. They ended up browsing through three stores. One was a t-shirt shop where Jamey purchased presents for his grandparents. Another was a "Two Dollar Store" where Mike found some humorous gifts for his hosts after consulting with Jamey.

Commander Dan took the boys to lunch at a place called the Flying Colors Beach Shack on the beachfront in Jacksonville Beach. It looked like a real beach shack that had somehow been built on stilts. Two cables lined with Navy signal flags ran from the peak of the roof to poles located between the parking lot and the street. The signal flags flapped in the breeze, hence the name Flying Colors. Part of the space under the building was actually used for parking. According to the fire department occupancy permit inside the front door the restaurant could accommodate 108 people indoors and 60 people on the oceanfront deck. Unfortunately the inclement weather kept the deck closed for lunch.

They managed to score a table right by the windows with a view of the deck and the choppy Atlantic Ocean water beyond. They all had fried seafood baskets, the Shack's specialty. Mike enjoyed his Fried Sea Scallops and Hushpuppies. Jamey had the Fried Coconut Shrimp and Hushpuppies.

While they were waiting for their desserts Commander Dan informed the boys that they needed to have a serious discussion. They all paid attention to the man as he spoke. "Tomorrow my parents are hosting a huge Christmas party with more than twenty people. Three of those people will be Alan Dunson and his sons, Andy and Sam. There is something you need to know about those men. Jamey and Timmy already know about this, so this warning is mostly for Mike and Jack."

Uh, oh. Mike wondered what was going on now. He and Jack looked at each other, than they both back looked at Commander Dan and nodded. The man looked sad as he said, "Alan was the father of three sons, Andy, Mike and Sam. Mike Dunson was a college student working an internship with a Wall Street financial firm in Tower 1 of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001 when the terrorist attack took place. He never made it out."

Mike was stunned. He couldn't speak for several seconds. Finally he exclaimed, "My God! Uncle Alan had a son named Mike? He isn't freaked out by guys named Mike, is he?"

Commander Dan shook his head, "No, no. Nothing like that. But Alan doesn't like it when people mention the 9/11 attacks. He wouldn't even allow them to put a memorial for his son in the foyer of the ERIC club. Even worse, Alan's wife divorced him in 2003. Alan hates discussing that, too. So be careful not to mention 9/11 when Uncle Alan is around. Frankly it wouldn't be an appropriate topic of conversation for a Christmas party anyway. Also, don't ask Alan any questions about his wife or being married."

Mike was grateful for the warning. He would have hated to upset a kind old man like Uncle Alan. But... "What about Commander Andy and Chef Sam, are they sensitive about those things too?"

"Not about 9/11, at least not as sensitive about it as their father. They did lose a brother that day so it's not a subject they care to discuss much. Sam has never been married though he does play the field. Apparently talented gourmet chefs see a lot of action these days if they have decent looks. Andy was married briefly. His wife divorced him after he joined the Navy."

Jack said, "So Commander Andy didn't always plan to join the Navy?"

"Nope," said Commander Dan. "He had planned to become a civilian surgeon just like his Dad. But after terrorists attacked his country and murdered his brother in the process he decided to become a Navy surgeon. Andy told me he wanted to care for guys like me who were gonna hunt down the bastards who planned the murder of his brother and all those other innocent people. He also wanted to care for our families. Unfortunately for Andy his wife was not willing to deal with being married to a Naval officer."

"Hmm." Mike had some experience in that area. "My Mom complains a lot about being married to a Naval officer. But she'd never divorce my Dad over it."

Jamey chimed in, "Mom doesn't have any problem being married to you, Dad, does she?"

"No, of course not. But it's different for your mother and me. We met as plebes at the Naval Academy, as you well know. The Navy is in your mother's blood too. She only left the service when she became pregnant with Timmy."

Jamey chuckled. "So Timmy's been causing trouble since he was born! That figures!"

Timmy groaned. "Shut up, you drunk! I didn't ask to be born any more than you did."

"You shut up, squirt!" Jamey sneered.

Commander Dan rolled his eyes. "Both of you shut up! Neither of you asked to be born, but you're both cruisin' for a bruisin' right now."

Mike watched in stunned silence as the brothers glared at each other. He actually liked the idea of Timmy being spanked, that little brat. But he would hate to see Jamey spanked again. He glanced over at Jack, who had a worried look on his face. Apparently Jack didn't expect his best friend to back down.

Fortunately Jamey eventually smiled and raised his right hand. "Peace, bro. Let's call a truce, at least until after Christmas."

Timmy considered the offer for a few seconds. "So we leave each other alone until after Christmas?"

"Correct," said Jamey. "No smart remarks, name calling, or practical jokes."

"Okay!" said Timmy, extending his hand across the table towards his brother. "Deal."

Jamey shook hands with his brother. "Deal."

"That's better," said Commander Dan. Mike breathed a sigh of relief as their desserts arrived.

Hark! The herald angels sing,
"Glory to the newborn King;
Peace on earth, and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled!"
Joyful, all ye nations rise,
Join the triumph of the skies;
With the angelic host proclaim,
"Christ was born in Bethlehem!"

"Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" - Traditional 18th Century Carol

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After they got back home they had to prepare to leave for the show. Jack and Mike traveled to the club with Jamey's family in the Pacifica. They arrived just after 4 PM and had to enter through the stage door in back since the club was already open as a restaurant.

The sign out front of the club was displaying new rotating messages:

• Sat: Lighthouse & Friends Christmas Show
• Merry Christmas from the ERIC Crew!
• Mon: Open Mic Night

Mike finally felt more relaxed when entering the club. He had survived the first show without making a fool of himself. He should be able to manage the trick one more time.

He noticed a few things about the club that he had missed the previous two days because he was so nervous and working on getting his bearings. For instance, there was an acoustic guitar in a display case behind the bar. The guitar actually looked... broken. There was definitely a crack in the guitar body. Hmm.

The bartender saw Mike looking at the broken instrument and said, "That's a concert-played guitar that belonged to Elvis Presley. Admiral Lane and his wife saw Elvis play that guitar on stage in Las Vegas. A couple months later Elvis managed to break the guitar during a concert and handed it to a fan in the audience. This all happened just a few months before he passed away."

Mike was well aware that Uncle Corey was an Elvis fanatic, but wow! "How did the Admiral get the guitar?"

The bartender snorted. "He bought it at one of those celebrity auctions. I forget how much he paid, but it was a lot more than I ever paid for a car."

Mike could understand Uncle Corey wanting to own a concert-played guitar once owned by his idol, but a broken guitar? That was kind of weird.

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Before he knew it Mike, Jamey and the other three boys were back in their elf costumes and taking the stage for the first set. One more Christmas show, comin' right up. Commander Dan stood next to them with his electric guitar and he also acted as the unofficial choir master. He asked the boys if they were ready. They all answered in the affirmative and the man nodded to his father.

Uncle Corey gave a signal and Aunt Anna began her opening violin solo. The first set was an interesting mix of Christmas carols and genuine rock and roll songs. The most uptempo songs were the classic song Old Time Rock and Roll and the KISS version of God Gave Rock and Roll to You, which featured six people playing electric guitars.

The little comedy bit that Aunt Becky and Aunt Anna did near the end of the set seemed funnier to Mike the second time he saw it. Aunt Becky began singing a classic rock song...

Jeremiah was a bullfrog
He was a good friend of mine
I never understood a single word he said
But I helped him drink his wine
Yes, he always had some mighty fine wine
Singin'

Joy to the world
All the boys and girls now
Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea
Joy to you and....

"Woah! Stop it, Becky!" yelled Anna as she tapped her on the shoulder.

The music stopped and Becky stopped singing. She turned angrily towards Anna. In her best Bronx accent she yelled, "Hey! I'm singin' here!"

Sporadic laughter could be heard from the audience as Anna said, patiently, "Yes, but you're singing the wrong song."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Look, you," said Becky. She pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. She held it up so Anna could see the page and pointed. "It says right here... after Dana sings 'Florida Wonderland' I'm supposed to sing 'Joy to the World'. That's what I was doing when I was so rudely interrupted."

The laughter increased as Anna shook her head. "You're singing the wrong song by that name. We're not supposed to be doing the Three Dog Night version of the song."

"Really?" said Becky skeptically. "What version are we supposed to be doing?"

"Let me give you a hint. What day is today?"

"Saturday!" Becky's confident statement was followed by a rimshot from the drummer. The laughter really blossomed as Becky wheeled on the drummer and glared at him. "Try that again and you'll be wearing that bass drum, Chuck!" Chuck Eastman shrugged as the audience laughter continued. Becky turned back to Anna and said, "What?"

Anna said, "It's Christmas Eve!" through clenched teeth.

"And that means..."

"It's time to celebrate!" Then Anna and Becky turned to the laughing audience and broke into another song:

Joy to the world! The Lord is come
Let Earth receive her King
Let every heart prepare Him room
And heaven and nature sing
And heaven and nature sing
And heaven, and heaven, and nature sing

The first set ended and the boys found themselves standing outside the stage door cooling off once more. It was Uncle Jerry's turn to stand out there keeping an eye on them. After the events of the previous night and the conversation with Uncle Corey Mike realized that Jerry was also there to guard them. The presence of the big man made Mike feel completely safe. Not only did the retired Marine have an imposing physical presence, he also carried a concealed 45 caliber hand cannon.

The little group was quiet for a few minutes. Then Mike decided to ask about something he had been wondering about since they started rehearsals on Thursday. "Uncle Jerry, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

Jerry looked down at Mike with a sly grin on his face. "Of course not, Mike. Shoot."

Mike grinned back, "I know you play steel drums, marimba and percussion for Lighthouse. Have you ever thought about playing regular drums like Chuck Eastman?"

Jerry chuckled ironically. "Oh, yeah. I have most definitely thought about it... hell, I still dream about it." The man obviously saw the confusion on Mike's face. "I used to play the regular drum kit. I was the first drummer for Lighthouse when we opened ERIC's club back in 2012. Then I had to quit because of my wrists." He held out his hands.

Mike suddenly understood. "Oh, the scars from the fire bothered you too much."

"Not those scars, Mike." He turned his right hand palm up and pointed at a surgical scar right where the palm met the wrist. "That scar. I came down with a bad case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome in mid-2013. It required surgery and I couldn't touch a percussion instrument for more than a year. Lighthouse broke up and Alan formed a band called GMT, which stood for Greenwich Music Time. Alan found Chuck to play drums for GMT and he agreed to be the drummer when we reformed Lighthouse in early 2015."

Mike was still a bit confused. "So you can play steel drums and marimba, but not a regular drum kit?"

"Correct, Mike. Let's just say that I tended towards heavy rock drumming whenever I could get away with it. All that speed and force wore out my wrists. Basically I was told by the Docs that if I wanted to retain the use of my right hand for the rest of my life I had to give up that kind of drumming. So I gave up drum kit all together and just play steel drums and marimba these days. Those instruments place much less strain on my wrists plus I don't play them for every song."

Mike finally understood. "So that's why you don't play on every song."

"Oh yes. Even if I was tempted to do it, Becky and Alan watch me like hawks. I have no choice but to behave myself."

"You're scared of them?" said Timmy.

Jerry snorted. "Scared of Alan? Not really. Scared of my wife? Hell, yes!"

Mike joined the other boys in laughing at the idea of the huge man being afraid of his diminutive wife. Then he stopped laughing. Aunt Becky might be small, but she radiated a kind of power. She was clearly a force to be reckoned with. His own mother was nobody to be taken lightly, but he would hate to find out what it was like to have Aunt Becky really pissed off at him. It occurred to him that Uncle Corey must have led an interesting life, what with his sister being angry with him all the time. Once again Mike found himself glad to be an only child.

At that point a stage hand popped his head out the door and called them back inside for the second set. The band rolled through the set with no problems. The boys did their piling their hands on the drum trick again at the end of The Little Drummer Boy and the audience loved it.

During the break after the second set the boys were joined outside by Commander Dan and Uncle Will. The brothers briefed the choir on a program change for the third set. Near the end of the set Uncle Corey and Aunt Anna would be doing a different duet. Instead of "Wonderful Tonight" they would be performing "You're The One That I Want" from the Grease soundtrack. None of the boys were familiar with the alternate song so they were told to follow Commander Dan's lead.

As it turned out the choir mostly just sang "Oooo, oooo, oooo" for that duet. Mike was amazed at how Uncle Corey and Aunt Anna faced each other while singing that song. They were clearly singing to each other, and the rest of the people in the room might as well not have been there. Those two people obviously loved each other. Kind of amazing after 40 years or more. Apparently some people do stay married for life. Mike wondered if he would be lucky enough to find the perfect partner to share his life with. One can always hope.

As the band moved into the encores Mike noticed that Uncle Corey seemed to be favoring his right hand. He didn't seem to be picking his guitar quite as dexterously and between songs he was flexing the hand in an unusual manner. Mike wondered if the man was in some kind of distress.

If Corey's hand was in pain he still managed to get through the rest of the encores, including his amazing solo during "Stairway to Heaven". After the show the performers took their bows and wished everyone a Merry Christmas. Then Uncle Alan led Uncle Corey into the kitchen. Mike found out later that while the band members packed up all their equipment and cleared the stage Alan crafted an impromptu ice pack for Corey's wrist and hand out of some towels. Anna drove the Range Rover home that night so Corey could rest his hand.

Sing with me, sing for the year
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear
Sing with me, just for today
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away
Dream on
Dream on
Dream on
Dream until your dreams come true

"Dream On", Aerosmith, Aerosmith, 1973

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Mike was confused. How did they get in this mess again? Damn it! He and Jamie just seemed to keep getting into jams caused by other irresponsible boys. Last time it was Jamie's stupid cousin T.J., but this time it was Stuart Groff, the 15-year-old youngest son of Major Groff. All three boys were standing there in their elf costumes while the Santa-clad Army veteran berated them for some offense they had committed together, but none of the words made much sense to him.

Mike looked at his two doomed peers and noticed an odd thing. Apparently Timmy and T.J. were correct about the choir's costumes. His and Jamie's elf costumes were much nicer that the costume worn by Stuart Groff.

Jesus! Why was he worried about fashion when he and Jamie were about to get their asses beat... again... for something that wasn't their fault? At least he assumed it wasn't their fault. It would help if he could remember what had happened.

Major Groff ordered the trio to strip below the waist. They reluctantly complied. Mike took off his green elf pants and his sky blue briefs. Jamie and Stuart dropped their costume pants and their tighty whities. Mike was kind of terrified. He remembered the strapping that Stuart and his older brother had received out behind the ERIC club on Friday night. Was this going to be as bad, or even worse? He didn't have to wait long to find out. Santa soon took off his belt and extracted the nasty leather spanking strap he kept concealed inside. Then he sat down and ordered Stuart to approach.

Stuart very reluctantly approached his father and quickly found himself draped over Santa's lap once again. The man wasted no time and began lashing the twin pale mounds with his short strap. The gangly boy writhed as the tanned leather reddened his hind cheeks. Craccckk!! Craccckk!!

As the strap rose and fell, continuing its punitive work, Craccckk!!, Stuart began yelping in pain and after a while pleading for mercy. Craccckk!!

Mike eventually realized that this spanking had been going on for an awfully long time. Craccckk!! He exchanged fearful looks with Jamey and started wondering if this is what Major Groff was talking about when he mentioned "making a proper job of a spanking." This was gonna be intense - certainly a lot worse than any spanking Mike had experienced before.

Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Mike had no idea how much time had passed before Major Groff finally relented and pushed his bawling son off his lap. It took a minute or so before Stuart was able to gather himself and plod back to stand in line next to Jamey.

Rather embarrassingly both Mike and Jamey had developed sturdy erections while watching Stuart take his strapping. Major Groff must have noticed the change, but he said nothing. That was something at least. Mike would hate to be in even more trouble with the old army officer.

And then it was Jamey's turn over Santa's lap. His best friend slowly and unwillingly took step after step towards the costumed Santa... whose costume did really look amazingly good when seen under normal indoor light as opposed to a poorly lit alley at night.

Focus! Why did he keep thinking about such trivia? Probably to avoid thinking about Jamey's immediate future, and his own.

All too soon Jamey was draped over Santa's lap and the nasty short leather strap began its painful work. Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Craccckk!!

Mike couldn't believe it. Here he was, just a few months away from his 13th birthday, waiting in line for his turn on Santa's lap. He would gladly have passed on the opportunity, but that wasn't gonna be an option. Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Craccckk!!

Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Jamey was soon yelping in pain. Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Eventually he was pleading for the whipping to stop.

Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Mike was embarrassed that his dick was harder than Chinese algebra, as the saying goes. This from seeing his best friend strapped by a stranger. Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Craccckk!!

As the strap continued to lash poor Jamey's bright red, writhing bottom Mike became concerned. When was this gonna end? He wanted it to end as quickly as possible for Jamey's sake. Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Craccckk!! On the flip side, that would mean that his own turn was up next.

Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Fuck it! It was high time that this was over. Jamey was just bawling and apparently had lost the ability to speak coherently. Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Craccckk!!

He tried to maintain control, but shit! Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Craccckk!! Finally he decided that enough was enough. Craccckk!! Mike yelled, "Stop it, Major! Stop whipping him. Leave Jamey alone! He's had enough!"

Mike noticed Stuart staring at him in horror. Major Groff stopped swinging the strap and turned to glare at Mike. "Shut up, you idiot boy! I'll be done with your friend shortly. Then it will be your turn, and your arrogance has doubled you own punishment!"

Groff turned back and raised the strap to continue whipping Jamey. Mike yelled, "No! Stop that you old fool, this is over! Let Jamey go now!"

Groff pushed the squalling Jamey off his lap and said, in an ominous tone, "If you insist, Michael. It's over for your friend, but just beginning for you. Get your little ass over here!"

Mike rushed over to comfort Jamey, who was kneeling on the floor. "Forget it, you creepy old man. You're not hitting any..." What the fuck? The kneeling Jamey had taken Mike's hard as steel erection in his mouth and began licking and sucking. Mike looked up and saw the enraged look on Santa's face and... suddenly... he died.

Or woke up from a nightmare, or something. Mike was lying on his back in the Nautical bedroom in Uncle Corey's house that he shared with Jamey. He glanced over and Jamey's bed was empty, although recently slept in. The wall lamp next to the bed was switched on which explained why there was some light in the room.

Mike realized that he was still getting incredible pleasure signals from his penis. He looked down towards the foot of his bed and discovered that Jamey had climbed into his bed and was giving him a blow job. Holy shit, that felt good! He and Jamey had masturbated each other a few times in the past year as puberty kicked in, but never anything like this.

He wondered if this was real, or just another in a series of dreams. He pinched his own forearm and felt pain. Apparently that meant that he was actually awake. Huzzah! The feelings were overwhelming, in fact it wouldn't be long before... Sure enough, his rock solid boner began shooting his wad into his best friend's mouth. Mike grunted and thrusted as he held the back of Jamey's head. He didn't recall choosing to do any of those things, they sort of just happened. The ecstasy seemed to last forever... far and away the most intense experience of his life.

Mike lay on his back, gasping for breath and completely spent. He released Jamey, who eagerly licked off Mike's rapidly deflating penis, removing any remaining traces of semen.

By the time he got his breath back Jamey had finished cleaning up. His best friend was looking at him with what could only be love in his eyes. "So, what did you think of it?"

Mike gasped. "It was incredible... but why?"

Jamey smiled. "Several reasons, actually. When I woke up your were clearly having a nightmare and I wondered if I should wake you up. I pulled down your covers and realized that you had pitched an amazing tent in your PJ bottoms. Frankly I had been longing to taste that spicy Italian sausage of yours for a couple months now. It's Christmas morning, a time for miracles, so why not? Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" said Mike, who was stunned. "Wow! Great minds really do think alike. I had been wondering what your fat English Banger tastes like for a while now."

Jamey grinned as he pulled off his PJ bottoms. "Well, there's no time like the present to find out."

"I'm game." Mike did have one question. "Did you ever do that before?"

Jamey snorted, "Oh sure, loads of times. I'm very popular with the sailors of the Atlantic Fleet, don't ya know?"

"Very funny, retard. Some of the grungier swabbies might let you lick their boots, but that's about it."

Jamey pretended to be hurt by this comment. "Well... if you don't want me to ever do that for you again..."

"I take it back!"

"That's better. Seriously though, that was my first time, which should have been obvious." Jamey thought a few seconds while they got into position. Then he asked, "By the way, what was your nightmare about? Do you remember?"

"Oh yeah." Mike proceeded to explain the dream to Jamey.

"I see, so that's why you were shouting to leave me alone?"

"Yep." Mike noticed something. "I see that the tale of the dream excited your interest."

Jamey gave a quick rub to his rock solid boner. "Yes, sir. I'm ready for my close up."

Mike licked his lips. "Banger and two mash. Very nice looking. Guess I'll have to mash them."

Jamey growled. "Not unless you want to eat your own meatballs for Christmas breakfast."

"A charming host, as always." Mike decided to knock off the witty banter and get going with the job at hand. He began with a very familiar motion, stroking his best friend's rock hard penis. Then it was time to put his friend's dick where it had never been before, in his own mouth. He wrapped his lips around the very familiar erection and began licking.

Mike wondered if he was doing this right, but it quickly became apparent that he was indeed. Jamey was quickly groaning and holding the back of Mike's head as he thrusted slightly with his hips. The tastes were interesting. It was kind of weirdly salty at first, which Mike guessed was dried pee. The taste got a lot better very quickly. In fact the whole thing seemed to go very quickly. After what seemed less than a minute Jamey took a tighter grip on his head and thrust madly while grunting. Mike felt the warm pulses of hot cum at the back of his throat and swallowed. After about five pulses it ended and Jamey released his head.

Mike remembered to lick his friend's deflating sausage clean before removing it from his mouth. "So, what did you think of that, stud?"

"Beyond belief. Way beyond..."

"That sounds right. Merry Christmas!"

A very tired sounding Jamey said. "Yes, indeed. Merry Christmas."

Author Note: Surprise! Yes, I went there. ;-)     Merry Christmas!

The author welcomes comments from readers. You can contact Bobby Watson by e-mail at: mrbwatson (at) gmail.com
Please be patient - Bobby doesn't always check his e-mail every day.