Tiny Tim and Little Whorrit by Cucciolo

I'm writing this just before Christmas but, as sex has no season, I'm sure you'll enjoy it any time of the year. It was originally entitled 'Surelick Holmes and the Baker of Baker Street' but that was a bit too long and anyway Tiny Tim and Little Whorrit kind of took over the story halfway through. Erotic stories, like life, have a tendency to go off on tangents. I filched and reworked the names from Dickensian characters but Tiny Tim turned into the baker from Baker Street so there's a little shift towards Conan Doyle but not so you'd notice.

I've always been fascinated by bakers. All those hot ovens and dough and stuff and I'm always in need of kneading ... and stuff. Lots of it in fact. I've often wondered what it would have been like living in those bygone days and advertising myself as 'Cucciolo the cook with the thick cock' in order to get a job in a bakery or a Victorian gent's kitchen but I don't suppose in those days you could be so bold although I'm told that a lot of those stiff upper lip guys led double lives even if the word 'gay' hadn't been invented yet. So I did the next best thing and got myself a highly paid day (and night) job in a magnificent Victorian building overlooking Hampstead Heath, London.

It was run as a five-star hotel but was unofficially known as a male whorehouse. Great efforts had been taken to give it a veneer of respectability. It was lushly furnished in green and red velvet and had huge chandeliers in every room. The clients were rich and often extremely generous with their tips. We all had gainful employment and worked as waiters and cooks and serviced the rooms as well as the clients so it was all very discreet. Of course, their 'extreme generosity' depended very much on what extremes you were prepared to go to in order to satisfy their needs and a lot of the boys I worked with didn't stay the course. The manager's name was John Jacob Holcombe but we called him Surelick Holmes because he was tall and thin and used to go for long walks on the heath in a deerstalker hat and because he had a great variety of pipes in his office. The way he sucked on the stems gave you some idea of what to expect if he ever called you into his private chambers. I'm about to take you on a pleasurable tour of the premises and introduce you to some of the lads.

We all had somewhat modified Dickensian nicknames depending on our individual proclivities or protuberances. Mine was Oliver Twink as I look so young and innocent. The others had much more fanciful names such as the Arseful Lodger, Little Whorrit, Martin Nuzzle-tit, David Stopper-filled, Tiny Tim (he wasn't) and Sidney Hard-on. And of course we referred to some of the clients as Mr. Dick, Doctor Wad-Some or Mr. Thickwick. Innocent backstage fun even if our performances on stage were anything but innocent and not always that much fun.

I stayed there for nearly a year and regarded it as a kind of sexual finishing school. It was a very good starting point too. We had to go through a kind of initiation ceremony supervised by Surelick who insisted on being addressed as Mr Holcombe, although if you became one of the favoured few he would let you call him Jay-Jay. Not that that was an appropriate name for him as he looked more like a bald eagle and anyway we all preferred Surelick.

He could sure lick your cock into a froth and a frenzy and lubricate your anal passages until you lost all reason and became sexually insane. It was also excellent preparation for being made love to by some of the horrors of nature we were eventually obliged to service and pretty hot and satisfying if you closed your eyes and just went with the flow. Of course, the best part was when we were allowed to practise on each other and give vent to our finer feelings.

I had the hots for Tiny Tim as he had the biggest cock of us all and knew what to do with it too. Unfortunately Jay-Jay didn't like us getting attached to each other which was somewhat difficult with Tiny Tim and a pail of ice cold water was sometimes necessary to prise you and him apart.

I'd never taken it up the ass until I met Tiny Tim. He taught me most of what I know. He stretched my mind and my sphincter. The first time he 'initiated' me he used his tongue and a lot of lubricant but most of all his thumbs. He was very clever with his thumbs as he'd worked as a baker for many years, making bread and pastries and also pizza. He was therefore older and more experienced than most of the other boys which is why Surelick chose him as my sponsor. His huge dong reminded me rather too much of my mother's rolling-pin but he had a very soft touch, especially with flaky pastry and I appreciated that as I was feeling pretty flaky the first time he fucked me.

He started by slowly stroking my cock and then beating me off with his hand. Whipping up cream he called it. He said he'd get round to my cherry later. We also did quite a bit of French kissing and his tongue went to many places nobody had visited before. In fact, there was always an element of surprise in his lovemaking. He'd get me relaxed and horny and then strike when my iron was hot.

He told me my asshole looked like the face of an old woman and he was going to smooth out the wrinkles with some cream. Give me an uplift. Just like the ads promised. Then he explained to me about love buttons. I knew next to nothing about prostates and sphincters in those days. I was very much the 'whip it in, whip it out and wipe it' kind of guy. Tiny Tim taught me how to finger fuck. He called it 'finesse' or the finer side of fucking. With him I learned the gentle art of massaging the prostate, using the tips of my fingers as sensual touch paper and sending a tingling train of horny sensations up a guy's love passage to set off a sexual time-bomb. Rubbing it in a constant, circular motion, up and down, and to and fro, and back and forth, always increasing the pressure.

When Tim tried it on me I was almost delirious with delight and I sobbed and throbbed. Strangely I began to feel like I needed to piss but at the same time wanted his arm in me right up to the elbow. I never wanted him to stop. I was overcome with tidal waves of pleasure. Then came the element of surprise. He asked me to open my eyes and I saw something long and rubbery in his hand. I freaked.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm not going to do anything terrible with this. It's just to prepare you for the real thing. It will loosen you up."

"I'm pretty loose now," I said as he lubricated the rubber monster.

I closed my eyes again and opened my mind to new possibilities. I also opened my ass. I knew full well that there was often a thin dividing line between pain and pleasure and I was more than ready to experience both. After all, I couldn't remain an anal virgin all my life although, looking back, I realize I could have started with something a bit smaller than Tiny Tim's enormous dick.

I gritted my teeth as I felt the cold head of the dildo at my hole. It went in an inch or two and Tim hesitated a bit to let me get used to it. "It's alright," I said but my voice wasn't very convincing.

The last time I'd had a feeling similar to this was when I was at the dentist's and he was standing over me with his drill poised. Tim rotated the dreaded dildo around a bit and my hole complied. The lubricant was doing its job. He pushed it further in. My sphincter muscle gripped it as it had gripped his fingers. I produced some horny sobs and moans but it didn't feel so bad. In fact it felt good.

I must have sounded like a cow in labour during the long process but Tim took this as a good sign.

"I'll have you producing milk and double dairy cream any minute," he said.

I groaned and moaned some more and then swallowed hard as I felt the dildo slide in even further than Tim had penetrated with his fingers and thumbs.

"Four. No, now five inches," he said, as if he was using it as a measuring stick.

I heaved a sigh and kissed my ass goodbye.

"Six inches," he continued.

My cherry was now ripe for the plucking. It felt so good.

"More," I said, just like my namesake in the famous story.

The lubricant was taking greater effect. My ass felt electrically charged.

"Seven inches. But that's as far as this goes. I've got a lot more waiting for you than that I'm afraid."

"I'm not afraid," I said.

I jiggled my shameless ass a bit to underline this statement.

"You're doing fine. Needs to be a bit wider though."

That didn't sound too inviting. I wanted a hot cock in me not a cold piece of slippery rubber. I felt him rotate the dildo around in my hole. It had a curve to it and I could feel the head massaging my colon walls. I stopped feeling like a cow in labour or a stuffed turkey and started behaving like a cat in heat. It was awesome. I'd never felt so good. Then the dildo was out and Tiny Tim was in.

He lifted my right leg with his left hand and spread it out as far as it would go. I felt like one of those illustrations in the Kama Sutra. He positioned his dick with his right hand, lubricated my hole some more and pushed into me with a satisfied grunt. The dildo was a piece of cake compared to this. At first I bucked my pelvis trying to force him out but that had quite the opposite effect. My bucking drew him further inside me, through the sphincter and right up against my prostate.

I writhed like a snake on concrete and squirmed and moaned and groaned but Tim's dick was well plugged in and giving high voltage to my, by now, well-exercised prostate muscle. He grabbed my other leg, split me up, out, and open and walked another two inches into me. I shuddered, trying to make some sort of escape move, but not having any leverage. "Found it again, didn't I?" he said with a big satisfied smile. I just groaned in pain and steeled myself to receive the full impact of his red-hot curling iron. I was ready to short circuit at any moment.

"God, I'm good," he said, "And you're one fine piece of ass."

"Please Tim, enough already. You're splitting me apart."

"I'm not even in as far as the dildo went, baby. Although I guess I'm a whole lot thicker."

"You can say that again," I panted.

"Gee, I just love what your love channel is doing to me. Hold on, I'm almost up to the root."

"Please stop," I begged him, "Just for a moment. Just until I get my breath back."

"Wild horses wouldn't tear me away from your ass at this moment," he growled. "This is the best ruttin' I've had in years."

It felt like a whole herd of wild horses were stampeding right through me. Then he stopped to draw breath and almost collapsed on top of me. Great I thought. Now it's just about over. But, of course, it wasn't. Slowly but surely he started to pump me. His great barge of a dick trying to prise open my canal gates, all the while taking longer and longer strokes. Just when I thought I couldn't take any more of him, he withdrew his dick only to plunge it in even further so I gulped and gasped like a drowning rat. I seemed to have morphed with half the animal kingdom in the shortest of times.

He drilled into my butt like he wanted to strike oil, making me feel I was on the Big Dipper at the fairground. My breath came and went as he sank into my depths and we hit the heights together. I shuddered and shook like an out of control roller-coaster racing over rickety rails and begged him to stop the world so I could get off. I didn't seem to have a single bone left in my body. Just his big boner taking me on a dizzy joyride. I closed my churning channel tightly round his pounding pole in a vain attempt to make him come. He laughed and squeezed my butt cheeks with his baker boy hands. "Nice try, baby," he said. "But your Daddy's in full control. He's got the knife by the handle and he's going to use these cute buns of yours as an oven and bake them just a little bit longer."

He grabbed my hips and brought me into a sitting position on his lap, skewering my ass as he did so. Down, down I descended onto his rock hard charger. I felt his pubes scratch the base of my butt.

He told me to arch my torso back. I obeyed. My face was covered in sweat and tears and I feared my ass was beginning to shed blood by now. But he hadn't finished with me yet.

He rotated me around on his dick for a while holding me at the side with his thumbs under my pecs. Then, as if to take my mind off the work in progress, he pinched my nips and made me scream with pain as he impaled me again. I tore at his hair while he tore into my ass. His dong was now about as far up me as it could possibly go. My head was swimming. I was out of my depth but he wasn't out of his. He rocked me back and forth on his pounding piston and fucked me senseless. But I was past caring. Any pain I'd felt before was now engulfed in pleasure. We were at the point of no return and he kept on going .... and cumin. His chest and my hips were both heaving as the pair of us roared to a hairy climax. He let go his load. I felt the cum ballooning in waves inside me and flowing freely from my butt. At the same time I flooded his face and watched my jizz drip down towards his lips.

"That was amazing," he said as he kissed me. I tasted my cum on his tongue. It tasted good. Soon I was halfway down his throat and he was still halfway up my ass. He'd obviously meant what he'd said about using my buns as an oven. In spite of Jay-Jay's warnings, we were already attached to each other although we had to play it cool and for a while managed to meet outside in order to be together. Walls, and jealous neighbours have ears, and eyes unfortunately as it wasn't long before we were discovered renting a room at Jack Straw's Castle, a gay pub near Kenwood House.

We were reprimanded by Surelick who seemed to have his spies everywhere and the bastard took a hefty slice out of our tips and threatened to dock our pay if we continued seeing each other. Shylock Holmes would also have been a good name for him. He sure loved his pound of flesh. In more ways than one. That was the downside of working there. At times, it was a bit like being in a harem and you had to come up with the goods or lose your job. The 'lick' part of his name not only applied to his tongue but to his riding whip and schoolmaster's cane and I soon learned all I needed to know about corporal punishment. But I developed a taste for even that. There's a fine line between being a masochist and a sadist too. I took it all out on Little Whorrit who was another of my brief flings to sexual freedom before we were clamped down by clients. He was really cute and my same age so we snuck off into the bushes a few times too. Two babes in the wood near Jack Straw's Castle.

It used to be a famous cruising spot and probably still is. I met lots of famous people there too. Actors and politicians all out for a grope and a bit of sexual fun. Of course a lot of them eventually found their way to Holmes Hotel and had to pay for their pleasures. Not that they always got away scot- free out in the open as there were a lot of rent boys around Jack Straw's.

I suppose we were rent boys too but working as waiters and desk clerks and cooks, as well as with our asses and cocks, made us feel legitimate. And protected. I must give old Surelick/Shylock his due. He did look after us and we had regular check-ups and were told to use condoms at all times. It was a rigid rule. Although once again I found the rubbery taste, and feel, distasteful and preferred to ride bareback with a select few. One of these was Little Whorrit. He was extremely good looking but very shy as he'd come from a very strict, religious background so I'd taken him under my wing. His real name was Dory and he hadn't originally intended to turn his good looks into a profitable profession. It just turned out that way. It was hard to believe but, until he started working with us, he'd had difficulty being laid because he was so gorgeous. Good looks can be a hazard sometimes. He would sit all by himself in gay bars and never talk to anyone and most people were afraid to approach him because he looked stand-offish and unattainable. It had taken Surelick's persuasive tongue to 'bring him out.' Dory started telling me about it one Sunday afternoon as we sunbathed on the heath but he never actually finished so prepare yourself for an anti-climax.

The old lecher had sat down next to him in a rather sleazy bar, offered him a drink, and put his hand on his knee. Dory had moved away of course. Surelick had taken the wind out of his sails, as well as his dick nearly out of his pants, by asking him if he was always so shy and why he frequented such places if he didn't want anybody to proposition him. Dory didn't have an answer to this and nervously began to peel the label off his bottle of beer. Surelick looked him in the eye and told him he would like to peel the clothes off his back which got him all excited in spite of himself. As there was no response from the tongue-tied twink, Surelick tried another tactic. He apologized for being so forward and got up to walk away. Dory felt guilty. He was also lonely."We can talk if you want," he said real quick. "I don't want you to think I'm some kind of stuck-up jerk or anything. I was just taken aback when you .... you know. I don't mind if you talk."

So Surelick talked the virgin ass off him and told him all about his 'establishment' and plied Dory with more drinks and Dory eventually complied. He may have appeared like an 'innocent abroad' but he was a whore in the making - hence his nickname - and didn't really mind being seduced by this unattractive guy as long as there was some money involved. It transpired that 'Little Whorrit' had quite a few hang ups about sex and had to be paid for it before he could enjoy it. This somehow justified things for him and made him more aggressive and outspoken. I don't quite know how but different strokes for different folks, I suppose. Which reminds me, he also got a sexual kick out of being smacked and whipped. Part of his rigid, highly disciplined upbringing.

When he got to the hotel and Surelick's intentions, and dick, were much in evidence, Dory asked if they might turn the light out. It was Surelick's turn to remain silent. He drew Dory towards him by his belt buckle and unzipped his jeans. They fell to the floor. So did Surelick.

From this point on, I'll let Dory tell you the story himself. I don't want to butt in and put words, as well as Surlick's dick, in his mouth ... and butt!

"He went down on his knees and tried to go down on me." Dory said.

"What did you do?" I asked him.

"I told him it would cost him," he said.

"Don't worry," said Surelick, "you'll be well rewarded."

"How much?"

"How much do you want?"

"$50 for a blow job, then we'll negotiate."

"I think I can manage that," he said and pulled my shorts down.

"Give me the $50 first." I told him.

"Whatever turns you on," he said and took some cash out of the bedside drawer.

I picked my jeans up and put the money in my pocket. I asked him to turn the lights off.

"Are you still shy?" he asked.

"Please turn out the light," I said.

I didn't want to look at him. I found him rather repulsive.

He turned off the light.

There was still a bit of a glow from outside but I quickly forgot about that. Soon he had my whole body glowing and my dick jumping for joy. However, he didn't start straight off with my dick but got me to lie on the bed. He pulled off my socks and kissed my feet and licked the insteps. Then he sucked my toes, one by one, and slid his tongue over the top of my foot and along my ankle, over my calf, and up my thigh. My dick was dripping with excitement but instead of sucking me off he blew gently on my balls. It no longer mattered to me how unattractive he was, I just appreciated the sensations he was sending right through me. He began to softly chew on my nuts with his lips. He sucked them into his mouth and popped them like cherry pips. It was awesome. He made a cradle for my butt with his hands and drew me closer towards him. He licked his way slowly up my shaft and drove my dick delirious, easing the tip of his tongue under the foreskin and sipping the pre-cum that spilled out of it. I slid into his mouth like a sword into a sheath. It felt so good in there. So soft and silky. So smooth, moist and warm. For a moment, I forgot where I was. Forgot that he was paying me for giving him pleasure. Forgot it wasn't supposed to be the other way round.

Then he tried to work his fingers into my butt and I called halt once again.

"We haven't agreed on a price for that." I said.

"I think we're both getting our money's worth, don't you?"

"Depends how far you want to go."

"All the way, of course."

"Then I'll need some more cash."

"How about I give you $200 on account and we take it from there?"

"Ok." I said waiting for him to drawer some more money out of the drawer.

I slipped the extra two hundred into my jeans and prepared myself for what was to come.

Little Whorrit stopped at this crucial point. The sun was setting and we had to get back to work. He said he'd continue 'some other time.' I hadn't realized till then what a huge cock-teaser he was, as well as a little whore. He just told me that a lot of sucking and fucking went on and, at the end of it all, he'd made $350 and got himself a full time job. As well as a full mouth and ass, of course.

His graphic account had been pretty hot and given me a woody I couldn't wait to hone down but he hadn't really told me anything I didn't already know. As I said, it was all part of our training with Surelick Holmes. I'd 'been there and done that.' Just hadn't been so well compensated that's all.

I hope I haven't left you hanging and dissatisfied like a pair of unsucked balls or deflated dick and also hope you've enjoyed meeting two of my carnal chums and hearing about our exploits. If so, please let me know because there's much more still to cum and I haven't yet introduced you to the Arseful Lodger, Martin Nuzzle-tit, David Stopper-filled and Sidney Hard-on or told you what we get up to with our clients. If you're curious, please drop me a line. I'd love to fill out your boner with some more juicy items and help you get your jollies. I sure got mine turning over the 'loose' pages of my diary and telling you about the goings-on at Surelick House.

Hope you enjoy the photos too.