Date: Wed, 29 Jan 2020 23:19:10 +0000 From: Zack McNaught Subject: Scarecrow chapter 3 While you're here, Nifty could do with a few quid (dollars/pesos/yen/Bitcoin?) to keep paying for bandwidth. If you could help out, that would be wonderful: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html --- Scarecrow - Chapter 3 There's a tale I haven't told you yet. Sue told it to me on the train beck from the literary festival; luckily the carriage was otherwise deserted. On the way to the train, we had passed a young lad with his dad, holding on tight to a well-worn teddy. I made no mention of it at the time, but as we sat down on the train, I couldn't help saying to Sue, "He looked a little old to be hugging his teddy, didn't he?" Sue shrugged, which wasn't quite the reaction I was expecting. "He's not that old," she said. "Maybe seven or eight? Hugo still has teddies, too, although in his case - " She stopped, and reddened. "What?!" I demanded. She looked across the table at me, searchingly. "Zack, can I ask you a really, really personal question?" "Um, OK." "Tell me to get lost if you don't want to answer, OK?" "Sure." "OK. So... Did you ever hump your teddy when you were Hugo's age?" Oh. Oh shit. So that's what this was about. My mind went straight back to the little boy with his teddy, and suddenly what had seemed like an innocent little vignette was suffused with erotic overtones. "I... um. I don't think I ever thought about doing it," I answered, quite honestly. I wasn't the most adventurous boy in that sense. "Well, Hugo certainly has. He has one, Mr Turtle, who seems to bear the brunt of it as far as I can tell." "Mr Turtle being a turtle, I suppose." She shook her head. "No, a teddy, from Build-a-Bear Workshop. No idea why he's called Mr Turtle." "And Hugo..." I led, hoping Sue would fill in the blanks. "Hugo gives that poor little teddy more love than it should have to handle!" she said, trying not to laugh. "How do you know?" "Well, for one thing, Mr Turtle has a hole in his backside about the diameter of a finger." She held up her index finger to demonstrate. From the briefest glimpse I'd had of it, I'd say that was about the size of his thing. "And another - I caught him at it one morning. I went in to get him up and there he was humping away at something under the covers. His little hips were going up and down like crazy. He was facing the wall so he didn't know I'd caught him, and I got out of there as quick as possible. When I went in later, the covers were thrown back and there was poor Mr Turtle, lying there with the hole in his bum." By this point I was shaking with adrenaline, imagining the scene in my mind. But still, I wanted more. "And you're sure that's what he was humping?" I pressed. Sue nodded. "I... er... I... well, I sniffed it." "Sniffed it?" "Yeah, sniffed the teddy. I mean, where the hole is." "And it smelled like..." "Like the front of his boxers. God, that sounds awful, doesn't it?" she laughed. "It's not like I go round sniffing his boxers, Zack. Just once or twice to see how clean he's keeping." I raised an eyebrow and she reached over and thumped me on the arm. "It's perfectly normal!" she protested, and then hit me again when I laughed. --- For a while, dreams of what Hugo got up to in bed with his teddy were all I had to go on. I fantasised endlessly about watching him going at Mr Turtle. My favourite dream had me staying overnight again, and Hugo coming down to watch TV, as he had before. This time, though, he brought Mr Turtle, and lay down with him on the other sofa. Eventually, he rolled onto his tummy, and Mr Turtle ended up underneath him, and then - lacking any kind of self-consciousness - Hugo would pull down his pants and insert his dick into the bear, and hump it into submission, while I watched on, unobserved, wanking myself off at the sight of his tight little bum flexing over and over, and his little balls peeking out from between his legs, and the base of his dick (all that I could see at this point) pumping uselessly as Hugo came. It was about this point in my dream that I, too, made my usual mess of things. --- "Zack, can you swim?" Sue asked, a few weeks later. My God, it was like a line from a terrible Nifty story. What a cheap set-up! "Uh, yeah. Pretty well, actually. I used to compete for county at school." "I can't, not really. I take Hugo, but I just stay in the shallow bits. I'm scared shitless of getting out of my depth, and I'm meant to be going on this stupid beach holiday with Hugo in a few months. He keeps going on about me learning to surf!" "Well, you can't do that if you can't swim." "Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious. What do I do about it, though?" "There are adult courses at the pool. An old school mate of mine is still a life guard there, and he teaches. In the adult lessons, he gets in the pool with you to make sure you're comfortable, and help with your technique." "Is he good looking?" she asked with a grin. I shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose so. Not exactly my type! He's incredibly successful with the ladies, and I can assure you that's pretty much all Mike cares about in life." Sue gave me a sideways look, but I couldn't quite tell what she was thinking. "So you think I should go to one of these adult lessons then?" "Well, if you need to swim, and you can't, it sounds like just about your only option." "Are you sure about that?" she asked, with a sly smile which suggested she had a dastardly plan. "Well, what else are you going to do?" "You can teach me to swim!" she exclaimed, with forced enthusiasm. I should've seen it coming, shouldn't I? "Er, me?" "Yeah, you. If you used to compete, that must mean you used to get trained a lot, so you must know how to teach me." "No, no way. It's not safe. And they wouldn't like me down there teaching you in their pool; their insurance wouldn't cover it." She huffed. "Fine, then. I'll go and meet this Mike of yours. But you have to come with me." "Me? Why?" "Because it's all your fault that Hugo wants to surf, after you gave him that book about that girl who carried on after she got half eaten by that shark." "What, Soul Surfer? I just thought it might be inspirational for him. I didn't think he'd get ideas! If anything, I would've thought it'd put him off surfing for life!" "Nope, not a bit. And it's all your fault, so you have to come to the pool and take Hugo swimming while I have my lessons." Oh, well, all of a sudden it was quite a different conversation. Why hadn't she put it like that before? It took some serious acting skill to appear to accept grudgingly, while inside my heart was doing backflips. Me, in pool with Hugo wearing nothing but swimming trunks? Hell yes! --- It was a couple of weeks before Mike had a slot in his training diary for Sue, but that just meant I had longer to anticipate what might happen. Which lover of young boys wouldn't think about it? We've all done it, haven't we? Imagining what it would be like when we got there, how Hugo would come into the men's changing room with me, how he would have no inhibitions and let it just dangle there while he chatted to me about something, completely naked. Well, that didn't exactly go to plan... "He's already in his suit under his clothes!" Sue told me brightly as we drove away from her house. "Not that he needs any help changing, of course, but it'll make it quicker. Gone are the days when he could come into the ladies' with me, but he does take an age getting changed when we go. I wonder what he does in there." I had my own ideas, but didn't think it was right to share them just then. I looked in the rear view mirror at Hugo; he was staring out of the window, paying no attention to me or his mum. "Oh, that's handy," I replied at last, with entirely false enthusiasm. "Well," said Sue, "one thing less to deal with when we get there." "Yep." It turned out to be a bit of a strained drive to the pool. Sue was nervous, and chatty. I was nervous, and quiet. Thank God it only took ten minutes to get there. When we'd paid and walked through to the changing rooms, I made a bee-line for the men's communal area. I saw Hugo hesitate for a moment, not quite sure what to do within the new dynamic, but Sue steered him over to the individual cubicles and he went without complaint. I didn't imagine for one second he was going to come with me to sneak a look; more likely was that he simply didn't know which adult to follow. The men's changing area was a washout - not a single boy in there of any interest - so I got changed pretty quickly and met Hugo and Sue by the pool side. "Right," Sue said, more brightly than I think she intended, "I'm off to my lesson. I'll come and tell you when I'm done!" Hugo nodded and smiled, and watched her head off to the other pool, then turned to me. He looked unsure of himself, all of a sudden, and crossed his arms across his chest. "You alright, Scarecrow?" I asked. He nodded, then said, "Are we allowed to go on the slides?" "Er, yes?" I wasn't sure why he'd even asked; wasn't that half the point of being there? "It's just that mum doesn't let me," he continued. "She can't come with me and she won't let me go on my own, even though I'm big enough." I was beginning to get a sense that Hugo was a little mollycoddled by his mum. "Well, I'm with you, and I can swim really well, so I think we can go." "Yes!" he shouted, with a little fist pump, and with that we were off to the races. Of all the wonderful moments that morning, Hugo's enthusiasm shines out as the most memorable part of the trip. He was a bundle of energy, dragging me from slide to slide, unrelenting in his desire to make sure he thoroughly tried out each and every one. He pulled me along between the slides, and then stood ahead of me on the stairs, more often than not hopping from one foot to another in his impatient excitement. He chattered constantly, too - sometimes about the slides and what had happened, at other times about the latest goings on at school. He was entirely unselfconscious about his subject matter, too, as if anything he was interested in would be interesting to me, and because he was saying it, it was. I was distracted, though, by the very fact that he was a boy. His skin - tanned golden all over his upper half - glistened wetly; drops of water on the finest silk. His hair, normally unruly and unkempt, was plastered to his head, darkened by the water. His torso had lost none of the definition it had had when I last saw him topless. His trunks - white, yellow and orange in thick bands like an inverted sunset - clung wetly to him, revealing the colour of skin beneath, and the exact shape of the lining. I tried often to glimpse the front for signs of his boyhood protruding, and was disappointed at each turn; eventually I gave up and accepted the gifts I was given, rather than wanting more. So lost were we in our adventure that it took ten minutes for us to spot Sue waving to us from the poolside. By the time we'd reached her, she was royally pissed off and cold, though when I asked her how Mike was, the colour seemed to return to her cheeks pretty quickly. "I'm getting a shower, anyway," she said. "You two idiots can carry on messing around in the pool if you like. I'll see you in the cafe. Hugo, I'll get your bag from the locker and take it with me." That was quite alright with me and Hugo, so we splashed back into the pool, and I started heading for the slides. "Zack, wait a second," Hugo said, lingering. "What's up, mate?" "Could we do some proper swimming for a bit?" he asked. "I never really get to practise." I shrugged. "Of course." So we ended up in a little pool which must have been for junior lessons, but wasn't currently in use. A couple of families were milling around in there, but it wasn't much fun, so we had the pool to ourselves. Hugo and I swam lengths together, he trying as hard as he could, and I trying very hard not to just swim off into the distance. After a few lengths at Hugo's full pace, we pulled up at one end. "You weren't even trying, were you?" he said, panting slightly. I grinned at him. "Not exactly. But I'm twice your height." "And really muscly," he breathed, scanning down my body. I'm sure his breathlessness was entirely down to his recent exertion; he wasn't panting in lust... He was right about my body, though. I wasn't quite chiselled and toned (more bulky and lumpy) but years of swimming had started me off well, and with no relationships - let alone family - to slow me down, I'd definitely managed to keep myself in shape, even though I spent my working day reading. I loved my body, I just didn't usually have anyone other than the beef at the gym to show it off to. I looked down at his body, and actually he was better toned than I was, just skinny as anything. His nipples could've cut glass, and there were definitely goosebumps up both arms. "Come on," I said, suddenly feeling rather paternal, "you need to get into the showers and warm up." He nodded, and shivered slightly, and we retreated to the changing rooms. The showers were all shared and open, so no-one over than the littlest kids were taking off their suits. Hugo and I just spent the time under the warm water rinsing the chlorine out of our hair and our suits, and getting the colour back in his lips. Stopping off at the cafe for a moment to get Hugo's bag from his mum, we headed back to the changing rooms. I expected Hugo to dive into a cubicle on his own, but as we were passing the larger rooms - meant for families - Hugo ducked into one, then turned round to look at me. "Come on," he insisted. "This way we can keep talking." I didn't need to be asked twice, though I have to admit that I glanced around to see if anyone saw us going in together. No-one would have said anything, because I would happily have passed for his father or his uncle, but still I felt a little guilty because of the thoughts running through my head. Hugo wasn't quick getting changed, that's what his mother had warned me about. And now, in the cubicle, I could see why. He wrapped his towel around his shoulders and sat on the bench, and started chatting away again. All the time I was getting changed he watched absolutely unabashed, especially as I stripped my shorts off and my manhood flopped out. Shrunken though it was by the cold, it was still far bigger than Hugo's, big enough that when it emerged his narrative paused for a moment. He looked up and caught my eye, and giggled a little, before carrying on talking as if nothing had happened. His gaze, though, didn't leave my midriff the whole time I dried myself. Very thoroughly... Eventually I couldn't take any longer with the towel. I stood for a moment completely exposed to him, while his sentence trailed off again. I started pulling on my clothes - t-shirt first to give him longer staring at my meat - and suggested that he might want to start getting dry, given that his mother was waiting for us. As if surprised by the idea, he jumped up and started towelling himself off. When he got to his shorts, he managed to untie them with no trouble at all (neatly avoiding another fairly standard Nifty storyline), and without pause shoved them to the floor. The world ceased to spin. It paused on its axis. Surprised birds suddenly flew into now-static trees. The oceans sloshed against their shores. People in skyscrapers were flung against the walls and windows. It's amazing how three inches of a young boy's penis, perfectly ramrod straight at forty five degrees with a lovely little pucker of foreskin over the head and a tracery of thin, blue veins beneath the alabaster skin, and a soft little pouch of twin nuggets beneath can change the course of physics for the entire world. At least, that's what I assume happened. It felt like it. Hugo stopped. He looked at me standing there with my mouth agape, and he looked down at his willy, which beat in time with his heart, like a conductor's baton come alive. Then he looked at me again, and grinned. His hips wriggled, and he pointed the little weapon at me. He pulled the tumescent prong down and let it slap back against his tummy, and giggled again at the sound it made, a sort of dull thump twinned with the slap of skin-on-skin. I sat with one unlaced trainer in hand, staring at him. My heart thumped loudly in my ears, and the outside world faded into the distance. Then, as quickly as it had come about, the moment was gone. Hugo stepped out of his swimming shorts, bent forward to dry his legs - not too effectively - and then forced his way with damp limbs into skinny boxers (Star Wars, for the aficionados; BB-8 was more cylindrical than spherical...). We were done very quickly after that; why spend any longer than you have to hanging around after the show is over? I considered following Hugo into the gents when he said he needed a wee, but I wasn't sure my heart was up to the added strain, and there's such a thing as pushing it too far. In the car on the way back to their house, I spotted him grinning and making faces at me in the mirror a few times, but it seemed that our mutual genital appreciation session was well and truly over for the afternoon. If Sue suspected anything, she didn't let on. --- I'm in another dream. I know it is, but I let it play out; I want to see where this goes. I'm in his house, on the sofa, beneath a blanket. Perhaps I have stayed the night; who knows? He joins me in the living room, and for some reason snuggles beneath the blanket in his soft cotton pyjamas. I smell his hair, and it has the scent of the shampoo he washed it with last night. His body is all bones and angles, and he wriggles excessively. My hand goes to his lower back, and he calms, but there is still something sticking into my hip. He looks up at me, and his breath washes over me; sweet, not sour. "Sorry," he grins, and I know he's not apologising for wriggling. He's excusing the rampant erection he is rhythmically digging into my side. My hand slips lower and cups his bottom, and his head falls back to my chest as the humping picks up pace. His hand toys with my chest, making my nipple hard through the fabric of my t-shirt. I lift my hand and slide it back down, and now I am holding naked, sweaty boy bottom. He sighs as my fingers explore, and sighs again as I push his pyjama bottoms down. They catch on his spike, and there's a dull thump - a familiar sound - as it pops free and reasserts its right to be pointing to his navel. He shoves the pyjamas down, and I hear them fall to the floor at the end of the sofa with a swish. Suddenly, he is atop me, and his hands are on my shoulders, and he grins down at me, grinding his little pecker into my tummy, sticky and hot and hard as bone. I don't remember what happened to the shorts I slept in, but they are gone, and my manhood rises from between his thighs to slides against his bottom, panting it with little streaks of precum. I shove his hips lower, and now my tool is running along the length of his crack. With his narrow bottom it's not a deep crevasse, but it's enough. I hold it in there with my fingers, and my stomach tightens as I feel my skin passing over his wrinkled entrance. Too much! I cannot hold back, crushing him to me as he tightens his thighs around my erupting manhood. His dick still presses repeatedly into me as he humps himself up and down on my rod, with my emission seeping down between his legs, across his scrotum and into my crotch. He leans in to me and our lips touch. --- I woke with a start. I could still feel his skin on mine, still smell the shampoo in his hair, still taste his lips. The dream had felt more real than ever. It worried me how often the dreams came now, because each made the possibility of something happening seem more real. I doubled down on my determination not to give in to my desires. --- Of course, Sue wasn't going to learn to swim in one lesson. Thank God. The next week we were back at the same time, and I was back on Hugo duty. Sue didn't seem to think it might be any kind of imposition to ask me to come with them, and to look after Hugo. Of course, it didn't feel that way to me at all, but if she knew why I was so happy to be looking after him, I would never again have been given the chance. Spend long enough doing something and you'll inevitably get used to it, even if that thing is spending time with a cute little boy you're totally infatuated with. This second week, I was less on edge, less desperate to drink in his beauty as if this was the last time I might ever see it. There was almost a sense of routine to what we were doing, and Hugo and I quickly developed a shorthand so as not to waste too much effort discussing slides instead of getting to them. "One more blue and then the red?" I'd say, and he'd nod, before replying, "And then green?" "Yeah, cool." And off we'd go, racing as fast as we were allowed without running. I tried on a couple of occasions to slow down and be a grown-up, but Hugo just came back and grabbed my hand and dragged me on, so in the end I caved and acted just as enthusiastically as he did. The moment finally came when it was time to get out and get changed. It was a moment I had thought about all week, and I knew my plan: I was definitely going to refuse to go into the cubicle with Hugo. Instead, I was going to go to the communal men's area, somewhere I knew he wouldn't follow. Then, I wouldn't be tempted to gawp at him changing. Stupid Zack. When I told him of my plan, he shrugged, turned around and followed me, without a second's pause. There was to be no repeat of the previous week's breathtaking views, though. Seemingly chastened by the open environment, Hugo's willy remained resolutely flaccid, and despite the fact that he was still a slow-coach getting changed, he still didn't spend very long with it waving around. Nope, this was very much more a sensible, perfunctory changing experience, and I was all the happier for it. I didn't want to perv over Hugo, despite the effort my libido went to, to change my mind. The only slight allowance I gave myself was to stare a little while he had his back turned to me, because even though I'd seen his willy a decent handful of times now, his bum was still unknown territory. I wasn't disappointed. To me, a little boy's bum can be the height of aesthetic perfection; it's no wonder that young boys were so often chosen to be depicted by great sculptors and artists down the years. A perfect posterior is only ever found on a young boy, and Hugo was blessed with an absolute stunner. Not too big, nor a skinny nothingness. Just two perfect peachy halves which emerged seamlessly from his lower back to flank a shallow valley. His bottom was neither saggy, nor pert - it was just effortlessly perfect and round, neither jutting out too far, nor flat and lacking definition. I stored every detail of that image for my later consumption. My heart rate had returned to a canter by the time we left the pool, so I was able to accept Sue's offer of takeaway and a film at their house without hyperventilating. We stopped of at KFC on the way home - Hugo's favourite, apparently - and sat down in front of the TV to watch something or other Hugo wanted, and which Sue and I didn't have the energy to reject. We sat happily munching on greasy chicken for a while, then paused the film while Hugo was sent upstairs to have a proper shower to get rid of the chlorine smell, and Sue and I cleared up a bit and took a moment for a chat. "So, how's the swimming coming?" I asked, having felt unable to do so while Hugo was around, in case Sue was embarrassed talking about it. She shrugged, and smiled. "OK, I suppose. I certainly feel motivated to learn!" "I'm sure Mike enjoys having you in his class," I said, not needing to lie - Sue was a rather attractive lady, if that was your thing, despite being ten years older than Mike or I. "Shut up, you! He's far too young for me!" Sue was laughing, and waved away the comment, but there was definitely a twinkle in her eye. I tried to hide my alarm at the thought which suddenly popped into my mind - if Sue and Mike got together, there would probably be little reason for me to spend any time with Hugo, as he could have Mike as his adult male influence instead. Yeah, fine, that wasn't very logical, but then when it came to Hugo I wasn't exactly Mr Rational. Before we could go any further, Hugo arrived downstairs with very wet, messy hair, and wearing only a pair of light blue cotton pyjama shorts, which did very little to hide the shape of his family jewels, nor his lovely bottom. Sue rolled her eyes. "Right, into the living room, let's get the hairdryer and sort out that mop." Hugo made a face which suggested hair drying was torture. "Can Zack do it?" he begged. "I bet he wouldn't make it hurt as much." Sue looked at me, and I shrugged, and so she shrugged back, and it looked like I would be drying Scarecrow's little straw mop. He sat between my legs in front of the sofa while I went to work with brush and hairdryer. It wasn't a job I had huge experience with, but then it wasn't exactly complex either. While I worked, Sue was upstairs having a quick shower herself, so I was left unguarded to admire his shoulders, his neck, the delicacy of his ears, and to peek forward over his shoulder to look at his hard little nipples. Hard nipples? Surely nothing more than the sensation of the air from the dryer passing over his skin, but it increased my heart rate. On the pretext of moving to more carefully brush the front of his hair, I leaned forward and peered down into Hugo's crotch, but there was nothing much to see in the folds of his pyjama shorts. I was lucky Sue was quick in the shower, because she reappeared before I was tempted to do anything stupid. She came over and took the hairdryer and brush from me. "I'll go and dry my hair in my room," she said. "That way you boys can enjoy the rest of the film before Hugo has to be in bed." "Thanks," I said drily; the film wasn't exactly to my taste. But that didn't really matter, did it? Because I wasn't watching it, I was hanging out with Hugo. This time, instead of going automatically to the other sofa, he climbed up next to me. It was nothing more than convenience, surely, but I glowed inside. He sat at the far end from me, leaning on sofa's arm with a leg up between us. It was a defensive wall which kept all his most interesting parts hidden from my roving eye. I spent the rest of the film glancing his way every few moments hoping that the situation would change, but to my great frustration he remained resolutely closed to me. Only when the credits were rolling and Sue came in to send him to bed did I get even the slightest glimpse of anything interesting: as he stood, the lump in the front of his shorts was maybe lifted a little higher than it normally would be. But by the standards of the pool changing room, this was little by the way of excitement. With the boy gone, and Suer looking exhausted, I made my excuses and left. --- I dream of him again that night, a tumultuous fantasy that leaves me sweaty and breathless. I am babysitting him while Sue is away. He has a football match on a Saturday afternoon, and I go to watch him, cheering from the sidelines. He's not very clean by the time we're done, and as we walk back to his house we discuss the fact that he will need a shower. He refuses with a laugh, and the more insistent I become, the more amused he is by his own refusal. The mud is only on his kit, he argues, so only they need to get clean. As we enter the house I go on the attack, a pre-emptive strike which aims to unsettle him. His t-shirt is up and over his head before he knows what's hit him, and despite fighting for it he can't stop me making him topless. He giggles and runs away, sticking his tongue out at me over his shoulder. I drop the muddy shirt on the floor and follow him. Stripping is suddenly his game, though, and as I round the corner his soggy shorts hit me in the face. Laughing I throw them aside, and try to follow him. Hugo disappears behind the sofa, and very soon a rolled-up sock comes my way. I shout, "Ha! Missed!" only for the other sock to come sailing over the ramparts and hit me. Figuring he has nothing left to launch, I go on the offensive, running to the sofa and going straight over the top. Not quick enough, though, as he darts to the side and runs towards the spare room, a room which only exits in this dream. I catch him as he's climbing onto the bed, grabbing at an ankle so that he falls forward. He's clad only in a pair of bright yellow briefs - certainly not his usual fare, but something out of a fantasy of mine. I climb onto the bed and lie down next to me, and he smiles, panting with the effort of having run away. Occasionally he giggles, but then he becomes more serious as I reach out to brush a strand of hair away from his face and tuck it behind his ear. I lift myself and lean forward over him, bringing my mouth to his. I pause just before contact is made, agonisingly close, living hi the decision. His arms snake around my neck, and he lifts himself until we are kissing. My hand goes to his side, feeling each rib as it drifts slowly down toward his hip. Across the rise of the pelvis beneath, and I encounter the ridged elastic waistband of his briefs. Staying outside for the moment, I run my hand down across the perfect mound of his arse, revelling in the heat emanating from beneath the soft cotton of his briefs. The dream shifts and he his atop me, while I lie on my back, both hands inside the back of his briefs, holding him and guiding his hips as he grinds against me. My clothes are gone, and his narrow torso presses into my more manly body as his cotton-wrapped boner glides up and down my rampant manhood. I'm pushing the briefs down now, so that our shafts come into contact, his hot and small and dry, mine large and turgid, and very, very wet. My premium smears all over his tummy and boyhood, lubricating our slip-slide as he sets a frantic pace on me. The dream ends we cum, his dry and mine very much not so. He quivers and his cheeks clench in my hands as I thrust hard against him and liberally coat both our crotches in my cum. --- I woke with the imagined taste of him still on my lips, and tried to hang on to the memory of the sensation of his bum in my hands. End of Chapter 3