Hutch has a taste test for Starsky.
For Matsir, to thank her for her support that involved giving me something she, Starsky, and I love dearly.
“Why do I gotta be blindfolded and tied up for this, Hutch?”
“What do you think ‘blind taste test’ means, Starsk?”
“Okay, I get the blindfold thing but why do I hafta have my kink cuffs on?”
“‘Cause I said so.”
“Geez, you’re a tyrant sometimes, you know that, Blintz?”
“And you love it, kitten.”
“Don’t call me that when we’re not in play.”
“Ooo, touchy are you? What would you prefer–tiger or puddy tat?”
“How about my name, dirt ball… Or tiger.”
“I’ll be right back, dirt ball.”
“Hutch!”
***
“Hey, I smell chocolate!”
“Of course you do, puddy. You can smell it if it was hidden in my filthy gym bag stuffed in the crawl space of that disgusting drug den over on Williamson.”
“Not my fault my nose is in tune with the finer things in life–like your scent, my luxuriously fragrant lover. Now can we get on with this taste test?”
“Sure. Just a sec.”
“Hutch, with you straddlin’ my chest, it’s real easy to hear ya strokin’ yourself. Givin’ me butterflies in my stomach.”
“Is that right? What kind of butterfly?”
“Huh? Whaddya mean, ‘kind’? Monarch of course. Only butterfly there is.”
“One of these days, I’m taking you to the Museum of Natural History, mush brain.”
“Only if you buy me a steak dinner at the Ranch House, nature boy. So, does all this activity mean I’m gonna get a Hutchsicle?”
“If it’ll shut you up for just a little, then yeah.”
“’Feed me, Seymour!’”
“Oh, god, Starsky, that’s soooo good … Okay, stop, stop.”
“Hey! I was just gettin’ going good. Hutch… Hey, what’s that sound?”
“Open wide! And it’s not a spoon.”
“I can dig it. Your wish is my… ummm.“
“Get it all off, babe … Oh, yeah, that’s it. Not too … Okay, what do you think of that?”
“Chocolate, really good chocolate. Is that… raspberry I taste, too?”
“Very good, Starsk! … ‘kay, next up.”
“Up.”
“Don’t snicker; suck. … God, you are the best cocksucker on the planet.”
“I take pride in my fun. Helps when the cock is the best on the planet. Anyways, that was easy–chocolate with a little mint. Got another, Hutch?”
“One more. … Here it is… Jesus, Starsk, are you tryin’ to suck my cock right off my body?”
“Nope. I like it attached to the beautiful bod it pokes out of… or is that away from?”
“Who cares? What was that flavor?”
“Chocolate with a nutty taste. Not peanut. Maybe pistachio. Naw, that’s not it. Not Hutchnuts, either. … I got it! Hazelnut?”
“Go to the head of the class–pun intended. So which one was your favorite syrup?”
“I like ‘em all, ‘specially the utensil. But ya know, I’m missin’ ice cream. Or better yet, Hutchcream. C’mere, darlin’. Time to feed the butterflies.”
“You nut. Love you, Starsky.”
“Love you, Hutch.”
The end
March 2021
Chapter End Notes:
Un-beta’d.
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