Chapter 9

Tom’s lips stayed firmly on Dale’s. They sucked each other’s tongues, each other’s lips. Their kisses were hungry, desperate even. All the hidden passion, the eternity of longing, was being revealed. For now they were alone in the universe. The rest of the world had disappeared; the room around them had gone. Somehow they had been cast adrift on a raft, a raft that contained the only two things that existed in the universe…their bodies and the sound of their lovemaking.

Dale’s fingers crawled their way into Tom’s damp arse crack, brushing against the hairs that lined that sweaty cleft and tickling the pink pucker of his arsehole. He heard his uncle groan and felt him thrusting harder. Was that a hint to continue? He poked at the arsehole and felt it contract beneath his touch; a natural reaction and one not to be taken as rejection. He wriggled the tip of his finger inside, using the sweat and traces of lubricant there to ease the rest of the digit in.