Page 135 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“You’re probably right. They’d definitely have taken my collection of butt plugs.”
“You have a—” Devan rolled his eyes when Jonty sniggered. “I’ll turn up the hot tub. It won’t take long to reach temperature. Fortunately, it’s one of those that’s left on permanently or it would have been days before we could use it. I might have had to keep dipping part of you in and out to test whether it was warm enough.”
By the time Devan came back inside, Jonty was naked and there were ingredients all over the work surface. Devan’s cock reacted instantly.
“Bonjour, mon petit.” Jonty’s French accent was terrible.
“Not so much of the little.” Devan’s gaze honed in on Jonty’s trim arse and he found himself licking his lips. As he stripped, he stared at Jonty’s face. Jonty’s eyes fluttered from Devan’s face to his cock and back to his face, over and over.
“You’re giving my eyes whiplash.” Jonty moaned.
Devan laughed. He came up behind and pressed himself against him.
“I’ve forgotten how to make pizza,” Jonty wailed. “My mind has gone blank. What do I need? Seaweed? Cornflakes? Chocolate?”
“The sooner we eat, the sooner we get in the hot tub.”
“Okay. Wash your important parts.”
“My hands, right?” Devan moved to the sink.
“Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes,” Jonty sang. “Mouth, cock and balls and nose, balls and nose—ouch!”
Devan had flicked him with the tea towel. “Good voice but a terrible choice of song. Now what?”
“The oven’s on. That’s a beginner’s mistake. We need it nice and hot.” He waved a pair of scissors. “These… are… called… scissors. See? They snap. I’m using them to cut open the packets of pizza base mix. Now you add them to the bowl. Not the scissors.”
Devan tipped in the mixture.
Jonty gasped. “How can you miss the bowl?”
“Only a bit missed.”
Jonty growled.
Eventually, they had two balls of dough on a floured surface and Jonty had flour handprints all over him.
“I’m a mess.” Jonty sighed.
“And I haven’t touched you.”
“This place must be haunted.”
“It’s flour not ectoplasm.”
“How do you know?”
Devan licked Jonty’s shoulder. “Definitely not ectoplasm. Not sweet enough.”
Jonty laughed. “Now you have to shape the dough and put it on one of these greased trays.”
“There doesn’t seem to be very much.”
“It swells up when it’s put somewhere warm and cosy.”
Jonty waggled his eyebrows and Devan almost choked. He concentrated on trying to form the dough into a circle, but it was harder than it looked. Thin in the middle and too thick at the edges. When he glanced at Jonty, his jaw dropped. His was already on the tray, an erect cock and balls complete with a thick vein running down the length of the dick.
“What’s that?” Devan kept the smile off his face.
