CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH
Dave bounced on the bed in a bad moody sort of a way. How was he supposed to go to sleep with a best friend sprawled over him like ceran wrap? Ceran wrapped sausage. Ceran wrapped hot throbby sausage which was mating with his own piece of meat. This was impossible. Different kind of best friend cuddles were one thing but he hadn’t had any of those sooper sekrit special sleepy night time cuddles since they’d arrived at this madhouse.
Wiping away the little tear Dave adjusted himself in his boxers… and again… and again. Then he adjusted Jimmy’s jammies and had a long grope. Sometimes he felt a bit guilty that James thought he still wet the bed at night but it was true in a way… with a little help from his friend.
He looked around the room and sure enough the paintings were staring down at him again. Freaking cameras everywhere! What the heck did Uncle Joss care if they had a bit of fun now and again? After all he’d certainly enjoyed getting a helping hand more than once in a while.
It was no good; Dave was getting all hot and bothered and however much he rubbed himself against Jimmy all he could feel were the narrow beady unblinking eyes of old Marsters -- (the paintings you evil readers) -- watching him with avid fascination.
There had to be somewhere in this place he could go and relieve himself. The bathroom was a no no. He was pretty much sure that even Joss wouldn’t be sick enough to have cameras in there but Jimmy could sniff out spunk a mile away and he didn’t want to upset his buddy again, so wrapping the robe tight around him Dave snuck out of the bedroom, flashlight gripped in one hand wavering slightly along with the trembling of his manly muscular arm.
“If there’s something strange in the neighbourhood, who you gonna call? Ghostbusters,” he sang as he edged his way along the spooky corridors trying to find a suitable broom closet in which to have a quiet wank.
Opening door after door Dave peered in at the sleeping occupants until finally he found what he was looking for - the janitor’s closet full of overalls and sheets and other material stuff.
David whipped his cock out at break neck speed, fucking his fist hard and fast and whispering sweet nothings to the soft silky material that reminded him of when his best friend was trying out for the role of Eliza Doolittle. “Yeah, Jimmy, yeah, Jimmy do me hard. Dick me baby one more time.”
“Is that a Gunn in your fist or are you just glad to see me?”
The room was illuminated by harsh blinding light and Dave shielded his eyes from the glare trying to see what was going on. It was reminding him very much of Close Encounters of the Third kind when all of a sudden his eyes became accustomed to the light and he saw and he was afraid. “I-I-I-I-I…”
“…I like you very much. I-I-I-I-I-I really do,” sang Andy, radiant in a floral baby doll and frilly panties, “But this is no time for show tunes, my sweet. Let’s get into bed and I’ll show you how a real man takes it up the ass.”
“Oh my God,” screamed Dave, waving his flashlight and his cock then dropping both in confusion. How could this pervert say such filthy things to him? What was he doing jacking off in the middle of the pervert’s bedroom? He picked up the torch and ran, howling like a banshee and hiding himself in the first unoccupied closet he came to.
At least he thought it was unoccupied until he felt a subtle tap on his shoulder.
“Excuse me,” said the disembodied voice. “I know it’s most frightfully rude of me but I wonder if you wouldn’t mind helping me out. I’m the Jackal, most pleased to meet you and as you can see I’m in a bit of a muddle.”
The batteries were running low on his torch and Dave couldn’t see anything at all but eventually he found the closet light switch and flicked it on, screaming in terror when he saw the hideous sight of the steel encased spirit with tears running down his decayed cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” sniffed the Jackal, “I know I don’t look my best at the moment. The other twelve ghosts in this establishment, practical jokers that they are, decided to play a little trick on me and put my head in a cage just for a giggle.”
Dave gingerly examined the bars. “Looks uncomfortable,” he said.
“It’s not that head that’s the problem,” howled the Jackal, dropping his pants and showing Dave his rather putrid todger and bollocks which were locked tight in a mini-cage.
“Ouch,” said Dave sympathetically. The guy may have been a hideous ghoul but no man deserved to have the circulation -- maybe that wasn’t the right word for it -- cut off from his privates. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Not being terribly bright, all Dave could think of was pull hard and hope for the best so they were busy having a very unusual session of tug the willy when a hideous sound came from the door outside.
“God is in his holy temple. Earthly thoughts be silent now,
While with rev'rence we assemble And before his presence bow.
He is with us, now and ever, When we call upon his name,
Aiding ev'ry good endeavor, Guiding ev'ry upward aim.
God is in his holy temple, in the pure and holy mind,
In the rev'rent heart and simple, In the soul from sin refined.
Banish then each base emotion. Lift us up, O Lord, to thee;
Let our souls, in pure devotion, Temples for thy worship be.”
Oh God, David was so terrified that he jumped and his fingers jammed inside the cockcage.
“Oh no no no no, it’s the ancient preacher man from that horrible film, Poltergrease Two. I saw it on telly the other night,” wailed the Jackal.
“It’s worse than that,” whispered Dave, frantically trying to free his hands.
The door opened and James looked in at them in horror then fell to the ground, his small delicate hands threading into his rather attractive gelled two tone wavy hair.
“Who is that over actor? And why is he frightening the ghostly poop out of me?” asked Jackal.
“He’s no ham, he’s my best buddy and he was just rehearsing for the off off off off off off Broadway musical version of Poltergeese two. His agent thinks he maybe too old to play Cane the Preacher but I think he’ll be great.”
“Why are we discussing my jobs when you’re in the closet giving hands jobs to weirdos, Davey?” James stood up and crossed his arms looking from ghost to best friend and back again, tapping his foot and waiting for an answer.
Dave whimpered and pulled really hard, freeing the Jackal from his cage.
“Oh how can I thank you?” howled the ghost in relief as he fell to his knees from the backlash, accidentally burying his face in Dave’s limp prick which of course was still hanging out of his boxers and getting less and less limp by the second.
“Not like that,” said James pulling David out of the closet and holding his hand tightly as he marched him back to their bedroom. “I can see I’m going to have to keep a firm grip on you, Davey.”
“I’m so sorry, Jimmy. It wasn’t what it looked like. I was scared after Andy told me where he wanted me to hide my sausage and I ran away and bumped into Jack and it was all completely innocent.”
The more Dave said the more Jimmy pouted and the more his flashlight twitched angrily. Dave just knew he ought to keep quiet and he was wondering when he was gonna stop digging himself deeper into the pit when James screamed and leapt into his arms. Dave buried his tongue inside James’s mouth, just to shut him up of course.
“Well boys, what is going on here,” said Eliza switching on the light and waving her large impressive weapon at them.