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Henry was stuck. It was Week 6, “Pastry Week”, and he was at a loss for how to complete his Signature Bake. The theme was “Choux Pastry”. Twelve identical choux buns in any size, filled with his choice of creams, custards, or jams, and decorated with craquelin or ganache. A simple enough challenge, but one he kept fighting himself on. Should he do a chocolate craquelin to top his cardamom choux buns filled with an coffee and cardamom diplomat cream? Or should instead try an espresso white chocolate ganache and topped with torched meringue? He was torn, which was unusual for him. He was so used to being sure of himself, always knowing what came next, being able to predict his weaknesses. But ever since struggling through “Dessert Week” and tasting the existential dread of leaving the tent, he had lost his self-confidence. He chuckled to himself: he never had this problem when he was back home, playing the organ at church. It was a safe, predictable, and boring life, one he begrudged. And even though he was taking steps to escape, he felt still trapped.
In times like this, when he was at uni, he would corral his classmates to help inspire creativity in his baking. But here he felt alone, isolated both in age and ideas. Not that he was immature, just inexperienced. He lay flat on his hotel bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling, waiting for an idea to drop. At that moment, a shower of kernels came flying down on his face as he heard a thud coming through the wall next door. He sat up, startled and partially blinded, and looked around to assess the damage. He was unharmed, save for some debris studded in his hair and oversized sweatshirt. If it wasn’t from his room, and he was at the end of the hallway, then it must be from his neighbor’s room. Surely he needs me to check up on him, Henry told himself as he hastily slipped on his loafers and tried to hide his smile.
He practiced his knock in the eight steps he took from his bed to David’s door. Be concerned, but try not to seem too concerned; just play it cool, he told himself. He gave a soft but brisk two-tap rap on the door and followed with “Hey David, it’s Henry. Everything ok?” Yes, he wanted to know everything about David, ever since the first day in the tent. Every week, David asked Henry to tie his apron for him, and every week Henry would tug a little harder at the knot. The thought of gripping that lean physique the way his apron did, it was enough to make him sweat. And as his mind drifted to that moment, the door swung open, and he gazed on a shirtless David, with custard all over his gym shorts.
David had been practicing his choux filling on his hot plate, and he too was feeling the creativity wane from his bakes. Cinnamon rolls one week, then cinnamon spice meringues…he felt like his well was running dry. And as supportive as his boyfriend acted, he couldn’t help but notice the distance. This competition was creating tension that neither was willing to address, and that made focusing on his work impossible. So it was no surprise that in his absentmindedness he knocked his saucepan to the ground. And here in front of him was the person he least wanted to see him struggling, the wunderkind Henry, with that patronizing mix of concern and pity painted on his face, so many other tall men before. Indeed, Henry was a good 6 inches taller than his measly 5’8″, and even at 36, he still felt this insecurity bleeding out. But in this case, this one instance, he was willing to allow this boy to help him out. “Come in. As you can see, it’s a total disaster.”
Henry crossed the threshold and felt his breath quicken. He was in his room, seeing for the first time the work of art that was David now completely decomposed. He felt almost wrong for being here, alone, with him in his bedroom while he was half-clad. He tried to keep eye contact with David as he explained how he heard the accident take place, and only glanced when David motioned to his custard-covered shirt and then his bare six pack. Henry quickly busied himself, unplugging the hot plate, picking up the saucepan, and bringing it over to the sink to rinse off the remaining custard. A few moments of silence passed as the two of them worked to right the scene and avoid the tension.
Much to Henry’s surprise, David started in, “Do you ever just…feel like you’ve lost it? Like, I know what I’m capable of and I feel like now I’m second guessing myself all the time. This is the third custard I’ve tried tonight, bloody unbelievable. The sad part is I’ll probably just use the recipe I practiced at home. No point in taking a risk Bostancı Escort on a signature.”
“No, actually I know exactly what you mean,” replied Henry. “I’ve been stuck trying to figure out a way to do something different without ruining the entire bake and I’m…well, sort of embarrassing, but I feel out of my depth.”
This caught David’s attention. “What do you mean? You’re the token youngest-contestant-this-year and so far you’ve lived up to the hype. The judges love you, Noel and Sandy love you, and frankly I think Alice is in love with you and your ties.”
“Alice is…great. She’s fine and nice and…great. But you–you don’t like my ties? Or me? You don’t, I can tell. I’m not even wearing a tie right now and you still don’t like me.”
David could see frustration shoot across Henry’s face. Did this 20-year-old actually care what he thought? “It’s not that. You just seem so confident and level-headed, and part of me thought you were just saying you were struggling to make me feel better. Because obviously my life is a mess.” He motioned to his shirt and shorts, “Exhibit A.”
“Chaos looks good on you.” Henry proffered a sheepish smile. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought. First of all, he’s way out of my league, and second of all, he has a boyfriend. He hadn’t thought about the words he said before they came out of his mouth, and now they were airborne and felt paper thin in hindsight. He shrugged his shoulders and hurriedly started towards the door, growing ever redder by the second.
“I like your ties.” Henry turned around and saw David sitting on the bed, looking more relaxed than he’d ever seen him. He was wearing a soft half-smile, and transferring custard from his shirt to his mouth with his two fingers. The fingers lingered at the edge of his tongue, pressing on his bottom lip. “You know, this is actually quite good. Would you like to try some?”
David felt a swell in his throat. He couldn’t talk or breathe or think. These moments were usually only saved for after the bake was over and the judgment rendered, but here he was getting to sample custard from the contestant he admired the most. Rather than speak, he joined Henry on the bed. He looked down at the shirt, then at David, up close for the first time that night. David’s tan was even all around, clearly garnered from time spent outdoors in rigorous exercise. Not a chest hair or deltoid or cheekbone out of place. Henry sat paralyzed, unable to look away and unable to feel anything but overwhelming lust.
Carefully, David used the same two fingers and scraped up a glob of custard. “Orange blossom honey and white chocolate.” He brought his fingers to Henry’s lips, and Henry engulfed them, custard and all. He pinched his eyes shut as a feeling like electricity ran down through his throat to his loins. He opened them and locked eyes with David, who was starting to quicken his breathing. Henry took those fingers and greedily rolled them around in his mouth, pulling his neck back and shoving them deeply again into his mouth. He gripped David’s forearm and watched as his eyes closed shut and his head tilted back. This was now the most relaxed Henry had ever seen him.
With his other hand, Henry grabbed onto David’s firm pecs. Grazing the hairs on his chest, he bounced from one nipple to the other, and then brought his attention to David’s abs. With each wave of pleasure, he could feel David contracting every fiber in his midsection. Even his back was taut with anticipation. Every inch Henry touched lit a fire under David’s skin that blossomed into salacious bliss.
David opened his eyes and stared at Henry, looking into his hazel eyes with wonder and euphoria. He and his boyfriend had stopped foreplay completely since the start of the show, and it was the first time since that someone had touched him or shared in a moment of intimacy with him. He grabbed the tail of the oversized sweatshirt and lifted it above Henry’s shoulders. Henry’s arms went up, and David scooted in closer to pull them off completely.
And there they were, faces inches from each other, close enough to count eyelashes. David leaned in and lay a kiss on Henry’s porcelain cheek, then onto the nape of his neck, and finally to his mouth. David finally pulled out his fingers and kissed him in earnest, clutching the back of his neck so as to bring his tongue deeper into Henry’s mouth. With his other hand, he went in search of Henry’s lightning rod, where the currents of pleasure had coalesced.
Henry never let go of David’s body, now feverishly groping David’s Ümraniye Escort firm back, kneading it as if it was Bread Week all over again. With his index fingers, he slid down to the only soft spot he could find on David’s body. He leaned into it and felt David quake with every bout of pressure. He felt the guttural nonsense resonating through his mouth as he ensnared David’s tongue. With his remaining fingers, he squeezed the dough and separated it into two mounds, now giving him the room to feel the pulse of David’s hole hastening through his shorts.
Meanwhile, David had found Henry’s sizable rolling pin. Even through his pajamas, David could tell that Henry was going to be a welcome challenge. He could make out a shaft that he struggled to one-hand, and coaxed the foreskin from base to tip, at least 24 centimeters. As David neared the opening of the prepuce, he milked what he could of the shaft and was rewarded with an ooze of precum that seeped through Henry’s trousers. Now he could tell: this is something Henry had been wanting for sometime. And who was David to disappoint?
David got on all fours and gnawed at the turgid beam vibrating through Henry’s pajama bottoms. He teased himself, nudging the monster with his nose while he buried his face in Henry’s heavy sack. Finally, with one hand to support himself, he yanked at the drawstring and untangled the tassels to reveal a mighty hammer of a cock, curved slightly heavenward as if to say, “Ride on this chariot to a divine beyond.” David knew how he wanted to worship at this beautiful altar, so he placed his puckering lips on the tip and slowly slid his watering mouth over the entire length. As each inch went down, he felt another part of his throat relax, until finally, Henry’s dickhead was throbbing in the center of his throat. He looked up at his youthful lover, now with his head tilted back and eyes shut, unable to comprehend the deluge of this sensation. And so David got to work.
While David inhaled Henry’s massive tool like it was oxygen, Henry had to make himself busy or else he was sure to lose his faculties and his load. He grabbed on to David’s shorts once again and pulled them down slowly, to reveal an ass hovering above the bed like the penthouse of a skyscraper. Each cheek was beautifully fuzzy and plump, but as his hand found its way to the top floor and reclined on his astral bodies, the muscles didn’t budge. He began to salivate and, letting his instincts guide him, dunked a finger into his mouth. Henry dangled the very finger above David’s bum as he gripped and gathered his right cheek with his other hand. A drop of saliva streamed down from the finger right into David’s pink hole, and he let out a groan. The reverberation traveled from David’s lungs through Henry’s dick and into his abdomen, like the first descent on a roller coaster. And so, Henry plunged into the hole to prepare for the exciting ride to come.
Henry didn’t waste time teasing, but rather focused on feeling the weight of his slender fingers push and pull David’s chamber until he felt the resistance slacken. The groans continued, and David never removed his mouth from Henry’s colossal cock. He felt he couldn’t, lest he lose a minute not servicing such a worthy piece. He could deepthroat Henry for days, shoving the bulk of his manhood back into his throat while using his tongue to engage the base and balls with fervor. But with every thrust he felt more and more desperate to have his quivering buns piped and filled. The thought alone caused him to start leaking precum, something he rarely ever had the chance to do. And now this precocious puff pastry of a man was about to make him beg to be creamed.
Almost telepathically, Henry pulled out his index finger, surveyed his work with his thumb, and judged the strip ready for landing. He cupped David’s chin, brought it up to his face and laid a kiss on his lips. “I’d like to fuck you, if that’s alright,” Henry said, now flushed with passion rather than embarrassment.
“Do whatever you want to me. Own me.” David looked Henry dead in the eyes, then pivoted to present a pristine pursed hole framed by a furry set of balls beckoning for a jostling. David dropped his head to the bed and grabbed at his uncut cock, palming his foreskin and rubbing it against his dick head, bringing more precum out with each stroke.
Henry had never had sex, and never knew he could want it as much as he did right now. But there he was, the most beautiful man Henry had ever seen, his dock waiting to be wrecked by his maiden voyage. He propped Kartal Escort himself up onto his knees, drained his still flooding mouth onto his glistening cock, and grabbed the base of his dick. “You want this big fucking cock?”, he asked rhetorically. All David could do was nod and shove his hole back, almost daring Henry to do his worst.
Now unable to stop himself, he slapped his sword on David’s pink sheath, watching his hole wink with every tap. And then, the head engaged. David briefly tensed up, but as depravity took him over, he shoved himself onto the mast, this time taking in half of Henry’s half-pounder. Henry finished the work and pulled David’s hips back until every square centimeter was insulating David’s walls. Now the groans were audible, and David’s breath was short. This was the pounding he had so desperately needed.
Henry gripped David’s sturdy shoulders as David gripped Henry’s sturdy cock. Henry started off slowly, feeling his precum now gush out as his foreskin slid over and around his cock. Now that he had some purchase, he began to shove his cock in with every breath. He grunted and gyrated while watching David recoil with each thrust. David looked back, grinning with a bead of sweat running down his chiseled jaw. “Unload in me. I want your fucking cum, you nasty fucking boy.” David felt like the strings of an old violin being plucked for the first time in ages. The delight came in waves, usually every time Henry broke through his second sphincter. Not even his boyfriend could give him the sense of rapture that consumed him. Nothing he experienced before could compare to the pure unwinding he was now experiencing.
The sweat was precipitating on Henry’s forehead and abdomen. He thought he would have long since climaxed, but the communion he was sharing with David felt more spiritual than physical, and he suspended a desire for resolution long enough to let the beauty and passion of this moment engulf him. He looked down at his implement as it impaled his inamorato, and for the first time he felt powerful. Something primal in him had awakened, and rather than run from it or suppress it with an Oxford shirt and tie, he leaned into that urge. Shifting his hands from David’s shoulders to his neck, he asked, “Want me to breed you? Beg for this load in you, you fucking pig.” The words felt foreign to him but natural and unforced in that scene, especially because he was on the cusp of a terminal release.
“Breed that fucking cunt. Destroy me. Don’t pull out that monster fucking cock…FUCK!” David couldn’t help but smile now. When the sex was good, the orgasm was an afterthought to the euphoria that led up to it. Now he was frantically pulling at his erection while being pumped by one of the biggest dicks he had ever taken. It was proving to be too much for him, and he knew he was reaching the point of no return. But before he could say anything–
“I’m going to bust. Take this huge load, you greedy little cock whore.” Henry had a crazed expression on his face that made him unrecognizably feral. David looked back for one last time, to savor this moment right before his fated release. At that second, Henry fiercely clasped David’s neck and delivered the full length and girth of his erection into David’s depths. And then came the warmth. David could feel waves and jets of semen like tides crashing into a shore. He had long since given up trying to breathe against the resistance on his neck. Rather, as he inched closer to disorientation, he felt the seamless surge of cum shoot from his dick onto his chest, his arm, and finally his sheets.
The two of them were paralyzed for a second, still engaged and unable to evacuate the paradise they had built with each other. Henry slumped over, powerless, and kissed David’s back. David, too, collapsed forward, soaked and satisfied. With trepidation, Henry pulled out his tender, engorged cock and flopped down on the bed beside David. “You were amazing–you are amazing. Holy shit.” David pushed himself up, wrapped his arms around Henry, and planted a kiss on his lips. The two embraced, mouths open and tongues tied in gratitude. In that instant, the floodgates opened, as if their sex had unlocked a creative gateway to help them push back against their collective baker’s block. They paused, now realizing they were as much rivals as they were lovers. After experiencing the release they had both been craving, they now had the endurance to power through another long weekend in the tent.
“I should get back to my room. But if you need a helping hand, you know where to find me.” Henry put his pajamas back on and started for the door. In all the scenarios he had run in his mind, he could not have predicted this outcome. Never had he been so uncertain of the future, and never had that excited him more. “Oh, and your custard was delicious.”
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