...he empty wet tub.
He watched the muscles of his yellow penis contract, and thrilled at the dollop of clear precum that oozed from its engorged head. Deciding he could wait no longer, he deftly gripped his shaft and slowly stroked it's 5 inch length. After a few gentle strokes, he felt his muscles begin to tense. He pulled his legs
toward him, and with his fingers traced the boundary of his sac to its base, and beyond until his middle finger found his puckered tan anus.
He circled his boy button, and ran his fingers up and down his crack. Bart was near the brink now, and he began to time the strokes of his boyhood with the touching of his boycunt. He felt it - the tingle of unescapable destiny, but he fought it, attempting to deny it. This pushed his sense of pleasure even
higher until Bart knew he could resist no longer.
Bart pushed the tip of his middle finger into is butt, and he shivered when he felt it penetrate his own sanctity, the walls of his anus tingling with lust as he wiggled the yellow intruder merrily. This pushed Bart over the brink, and on the downstroke his penis erupted, firing a gob of cum onto his chest.
Bart began to convulse, consumed in his self-pleasuring. He stroked his pulsating shaft shakily, and fired another salvo, the fruits of his labor splashing onto his face. Third and fourth rounds coated his tummy as he continued to wig...