Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair

by Biff Spork

Chapter 8

What woke me into the full morning light was the sound of Lucino giggling. I looked over and saw that Amicus wiggling his tongue around in Lucino's armpit. Amicus looked over at me and said, "Ain't these guys terrific? I don't know which of them I love the most."

"They're fantastic," I said.

"Let's go get some breakfast!" cried Lucino hopping out of bed and racing for the bathroom. The three of us followed in hot pursuit.

After breakfast, Lee and Lucino took off for one of the gardens, where they were helping in the harvest of some vegetables. We agreed to meet in the afternoon at the swimming hole. Amicus and I headed into the forest, but instead of taking the usual trail to his sweet potato patch, he branched off and led us into the undergrowth.

While we wended our way through the bushes and vines, he said, "I thought we'd take a break from weeding today. I've been thinking about some things for quite a while, and with you to help me, I think we may be able to make some discoveries this morning. It's going to involve our bums so I hope you're not going to be squeamish."

"Amicus, anything involving you and bums sounds like fun to me. Lead on!"

After a half hour of climbing over fallen trees and through dense undergrowth, we came to a shallow stream. Bush-whacking seemed easier when I was naked. My body just seemed to slide over and around things more easily. We went upstream for until we came to an open area on one bank with a couple of shallow pools there.

Amicus sat down cross-legged and I sat down opposite him. "You know that position I showed you for conscious farting?" he said.

"Yes."

"Well, I've been thinking about that and bums. I've heard there is a place up inside your bum that can feel really good, like a come."

"Bums are interesting," I said. "When you guys were doing the Mango Juice thing to me, Henry kept sticking his tongue up my bum, and I was surprised how nice it felt."

Amicus continued, "Mostly we just play with our dinguses, and that's great, but this other thing is really interesting to me. The only problem is I'm a little put off by the possibility of ending up with some shit on me. I mean, shit is just shit, but I don't want it in my mouth if I can help it."

"Yeah," I said. I was definitely in agreement on that, but I couldn't help adding, "I wonder what it tastes like?"

"I hope I never find out," said Amicus.

"I suppose it depends on what you've been eating," I said.

Amicus ignored me. "So," he said, "I've been thinking of a way of getting the bums really clean so we can explore them."

"Without ever really thinking about it I always assumed it would be kind of chocolatey. I guess because of the sort of brownish color," I persisted.

"I'm talking about our bums here," said Amicus firmly.

"Then again it might just taste like nothin' much, like mud maybe."

"Getting the bums really clean!" said Amicus, wearing a suspicious look with his eyebrows arrowing down toward his nose.

"But poop has such a strong smell, it's hard to imagine it doesn't have a strong taste too…."

"Morgan, if you really wanna know what shit tastes like I can think of a very easy way for you to find out. In fact, I will personally save a spoonful of my poop tomorrow morning, and you can taste it to your heart's content."

"You know," I said, "sometimes there are things it's better not to know. And I think the taste of shit is one of those things." I was on my back by this time, holding my belly. Amicus loomed over me and began poking me in the ribs.

"You're a terrible person, you know. Really bad! Not a serious bone in your body. Now can we get back to the bum experiment I planned for today?"

I pulled myself together and sat up. "Right," I said, "Bums!"

"Okay, so you're going to get into the conscious farting position – you know, with your head on the ground and your bum up in the air. Then I'm going to put some of this nice clean stream water inside your bum. You will slosh it around in the bum-pocket to get it nice and clean."

"Bum-pocket?"

"Yes, that place where your poop sits until you're ready to push it out. There must be some kinda pocket or storage area in there that we can flush out."

"That's what it's called? The bum-pocket?"

"it doesn't matter what it's called – you know what I mean."

"It's not going to come running out of my mouth is it? I mean that nice clean stream water full of poop from the bum-pocket."

"No, no. Our intestine is like 35 feet long or something. We're just gonna clean out the last few feet." Amicus was explaining this all so calmly, I realized he had thought it all out well in advance.

"Okay," I said, "After I've got some of this nice clean stream water up my bum or actually, down my bum and in the bum-pocket, my bum-pocket, what happens then?"

"Well, when I figure there's enough water in there, then you get up and flush it out, just like taking a poop. Maybe just go over to the edge of this clearing instead of doing it right here. We might have to do it two or three times to be sure your bum is really clean and ready for deep inspection."

"Deep inspection…"

'Yes, I wanna be able to root around in there with no fear of little nuggets."

"Little nuggets…"

"Repetition is an excellent way of learning but if you're going to repeat everything I say we'll be here all morning." Amicus was looking quite severe.

"Sorry, sir. Shall I adopt the position?"

"Yes, we might as well begin."

I got up on my knees and then bent over with my head right down on the ground. Amicus got up and stood behind me.

"Okay, now arch your back so your bum is pointing straight up. And relax your asshole so it just hangs open and any fart gas in there can escape."

I followed his instructions and felt my bumhole gaping open. Scarcely a minute later, I felt some farts escaping. I squeezed a few notes out. Excellent tone, I thought. Even a little vibrato on the last one.

"Please," said Amicus. "I appreciate you wanting to practice melodious farts, but it would be better if you allow all the gas to escape without hindrance so it doesn't start bubbling up when I'm trying to fill you up with water."

"Sorry, sir," I said.

"That's okay," he said, "Now if you can just hold that position – it's really neat – I can actually see a little way down inside you – I will go and get some water. I won't be able to talk because I am going to carry the water in my mouth and squirt it directly into your bum. Okay?"

Mostly I was concentrating on not falling over laughing, but I managed to hold the position while he took a few steps to the stream. The next thing I felt was his lips kissing my bumhole and then a strange cool sensation as he squirted his mouthful of water into my bum.

"Okay," he said. Just hold that. I'll put another mouthful in. This is working very well."

He repeated the procedure twice more and said, "Okay, close your asshole now and stand up and move over to the edge of the clearing."

As soon as I stood up, I could feel the water rushing toward the exit, and I knew I had only a few seconds to get the bushes. I bent at the waist as I reached the edge of the clearing, and at that same instant, a stream of water shot out of my bum. It felt great. Amicus applauded.

"Bravo! Very nice and the water was quite clear. I'm sure if we do that again your asshole will be clean enough so I can explore the interior."

I was amazed at how the great pressure shot the water out of me like a garden hose. "Did you see how far it went? Like five feet or something?"

"No, only about three feet. But I'm glad you weren't pointed at me. Now lets do it again."

"Why don't I do you now, and then you can do me again? And we can take turns until we're both clean."

Amicus agreed and got into the position. It was really interesting and exciting for me to see his anus open up so I could actually look down inside his bum a little. I really wanted to get in there and explore, nuggets be damned! I got a big mouthful of water and carefully placed my lips on his 'lips' and shot it into him. I quickly pumped three more big mouthfuls into him. He ran toward the bushes but bent over and turned after few steps. A really high pressure squirt spurted out of his bum.

"Impressive!" I said. "About four feet. If you put five big mouthfuls into me I bet I can blast a five foot spray at least." I got down into the position and relaxed while he topped me up. But five big mouthfuls were too much. I had hardly stood up and taken a single step before the flood was bursting the dam. I bent over and let fly. Amicus was drenched.

"Okay," he said grimly as he took the position. "I want six big mouthfuls." I kissed six into his bum and gamely stood my ground when he sprayed it all over me, while screeching like a maniac. We both rolled into the stream and washed the bum water off – though there was neither sight nor smell of poop and nary a nugget.

"Okay," I said. "Now we're clean. I'm glad we did that. I really like playing with your bum. It's really a cute little hole. What next?"

"Let's find a place that's a little sunny where we can get dried off." He led the way upstream until we came to a sunlit little clearing. We lay down on the fresh green grass, and he said, "Let's do 69 but a little further around so we each have access to the other's bum, and see what we can discover."

Instead of having our faces directly opposite our dinguses, we lined up so our faces were looking directly into our bums. My head was completely between his legs.

"If you're up for it, I think some tongue exploration is a good place to begin," he said and I immediately felt the tip of his tongue teasing the entrance to my bum. I began to worm my way into his interesting little hole, rotating my tongue around the outside and then diving in and out just a little way, to feel the reflex squeeze. I felt very comfortable with my chin nestled between the bottom of his bum cheeks just above his ball bag.

"Oh, that's nice," he cooed.

"The dinguses find this very interesting," I said as I became aware that both of them were getting hard and pushy.

I felt his tongue pushing in ever more deeply, and I found I could consciously relax the muscle that was trying to eject his tongue.

"That's great," he said, "When you squeeze out then relax I can push my tongue a long way in before you crush it again."

I imitated his his tongue movements and felt my tongue slide into that hot slick tunnel as far as it could reach. I just let it sit there for a while and then I began to wiggle it, pushing here and there along the walls.

If you had told me a week before that I would be lying naked in that green forest with the birds singing and the sun shining down on us – me and another naked brown boy — and that I would have my mouth glued to his bumhole with my tongue exploring that wonderfully hot and responsive tunnel while he teased and tickled my insides with his tongue, I would never have believed you. But it was happening, and it made me so happy I would have burst into song if my mouth hadn't been fully occupied.

We lay quietly, not rushing toward any conclusion, just steeping in a mild pleasure that seemed complete in itself.

I lifted away for a moment and said, "you know what this is?"

"What?"

"It's not a 69. It's a 96."

"That's brilliant, Morgan. I should have thought of that."

We went back to tonguing each other for another quarter hour. Then Amicus raised his head, "Morgan?"

"Hmmm?"

"Your bum is so nice and it's so relaxed and sloshy with my spit, would you mind if I tried to put my dingus inside you?"

"Amicus, I would love to have your dingus inside me, all the time. But do you think it will fit down there?"

"Well, it's longer than my tongue but no fatter and my tongue is sliding in and out now without any resistance."

"Then let's do it," I said.

He rolled me onto my back, bent my legs up over my head, then dropped them onto his shoulders. "If it hurts, even the tiniest bit, just say so and I'll stop. Okay?"

He took a handful of his spit and rubbed it on his dingus. Then he leaned forward. He held his dingus in his right hand and aimed it at my bum. Then he pushed forward. I concentrated on relaxing the entrance, and I felt the spit-slick head of his dingus slide in with no problem. He held it just inside the entrance and asked if it was okay. I said, "Go ahead, it's fine."

And it was fine. He pushed a little more, and a little more went inside. I angled my bum up to meet him more directly.

"Oh, Morgan," he murmured. "It's so hot and tight. It's beautiful. I'm about half way in now. Can I keep going?"

"Just keep going slow – it feels fine. I love having you inside me."

We pushed together and then I felt his crotch tight up against my bum and knew he was completely inside me. I relaxed and let the muscles squeeze him like they had wanted to ever since he popped inside the entrance.

I pulled him down for a kiss. "This is great," I said. I loved the feeling of being full and that it was him that gave me that feeling. His most tender, favorite part was that rock-hard, hot pole packing my interior. He pulled it back, just a little, then pushed it forward again. I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensations – my bum clutching him on the in-stroke and again on the out-stroke. I was learning a new way of holding him, of enfolding him. He lengthened his strokes so he was pulling out further before pushing in. We adjusted our positions a little from time to time, finding better angles. I took my legs off his shoulders and wrapped them around his back under his arms. Then on the next in-stroke, his dingus touched something that sent a little shiver of pleasure through me.

"Amicus," I breathed, "there's a spot there — when you hit it it feels super-good."

"Okay, I think that's what we're looking for," he said. "Just tell me when I hit it again, and I'll keep on hitting it." He pulled back very slow and then equally slowly pushed forward through my insides.

"That's it, right there!" I said. He stopped and pulled back just a little then pushed forward again just against the sensitive spot.

"Oh, yes!" I said, "Like that, just like that!"

Then he went back and forth under it a half dozen times, rubbing it on both the in-stroke and the out-stroke. He adjusted his angle a bit so that he was stabbing that spot more forcefully, coming up from beneath it and butting it. Then he drove his dingus all the way into me and pulled it nearly all the way out before sliding in to tap that spot again. He alternated long and short strokes so I never knew when he would hit that spot and every time he did, it emitted little bursts of pleasure that got stronger and stronger, and lasted longer and longer until the bursts overlapped, a new one spreading out before the previous one faded.

It was strange because even though it was the same kind of pleasure that I had grown familiar with feeling in my dingus, this pleasure wasn't in my dingus but seemed to come from that inner spot Amicus was touching, and the pleasure radiated out, not just into my dick but to the ends of my fingers and toes.

Every time he hit that spot, the pleasure grew greater until it was the same intensity as a come but through my whole body. I started to shake and groan it was so intense, and I felt my insides contracting in spasms with the waves of pleasure. Amicus continued to plow me slowly but forcefully, returning again and again to that magic spot.

"You're coming," he said. "This has made you come." We both looked at my dingus that was jerking up and down between our bellies.

"Just keep doing what you're doing," I gasped.

"I don't know how much longer I can last," he said. "What you're doing to my dick is so beautiful I know I'll come soon."

But he managed to continue and for at least another five minutes – it seemed to last forever – I came and came and came and eventually, so did Amicus, jerking and plunging into me with delightful force and unleashing even more powerful surges of pleasure. We lay exhausted, clutching each other and my insides continued to clasp and squeeze his dingus to milk a little more sweetness out of it.

We lay then, beyond words, for a time out of time. Then I used an elbow to push us over so he was on his back, and I was between his legs. I lifted them up and put them over my shoulders, rubbed a mouthful of spit onto my dingus, and pressed lightly against his lovely dimple. I felt it open then, and I slid inside his sweet hot tunnel. I had a pretty good idea where I would find that magic spot, and I knew I had succeeded when he gave a little cry, and then another when I returned to that spot. I caressed it, and rubbed it, and nudged it with my dingus, and he began grunting, "Unnnnh, unnnnh, unnnnh, unnnnh!" His grip on my dingus tightened and his tunnel grew slicker. Then I began to pound that little spot as I knew my own climax was inevitably rising within me. He began squeezing me rhythmically. I looked down to see his dick swelling and jerking in time with the contractions of his belly, and I knew he was in that endless come he had earlier given to me. I held back as long as I could, but eventually I too was thrashing against him uncontrollably. When it was over we lay quietly, gazing into each other's eyes and sharing the wordless realization that everything had changed.

And that is the story of Amicus and me. That green and gold forest glade was our marriage bed. When we returned hand in hand to our friends, we were no longer the same. I knew part of me was in Amicus and would be, forever, and part of him was in me. And though we have both loved others and been loved by them in the time since, we always return to each other's arms, our true home.

~The End~

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We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну

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