"But Jiminy - Lampwick says a guy only lives once!" -Pinocchio
WOO, so yeah, that is an actual quote from the movie and I thought it fit so I used it in this fic.
A Pinocchio/Lampwick fanfic written in response to a prompt on the Disney Kink Meme on livejournal.
It's Slash, obviously. No like, no read.
Warning: extreme amounts of fluff. also, towards the end, the theme of masturbation is explored, but there's no sex.
I wish there was more of this pairing around, because man are these two CUTE. (corruption-of-innocence, aw yeah)
Enjoy~
A Guy Only Lives Once
Lampwick had never been to anyplace quite like Pleasure Island.
Everything a naughty boy could ever want was here on this mysteriously isolated amusement park - food, beer, and cigars of which there seemed to be an endless supply, for starters. No one seemed to know who was operating the constantly shifting and whirring rides, but no one cared as long as they could have as many turns as they wanted, which they did, 'cause, really, who was going to stop 'em? There were absolutely no figures of authority to be found, unless you counted the leaders of the various makeshift gangs of boys that sometimes formed around the place - but it was rare anyone didn't do what they felt like anyway.
After you got tired of spewing up the contents of your stomach (which could've been any combination of ice cream, pie, pickles, roast chicken, you name it!) from riding the coaster so many times, you could mozy over to the Model Home to wreck up the joint. There always seemed to be a window to smash, a painting to vandalize, potted plants to chuck off the roof... and later, if you *really* wanted to have fun, you could pay a visit to the Rough House where, except for the occasional busted lip and black eye, picking a fight was consequence-free! Encouraged, even!
So what if being raised in a family where he'd learned more lessons on the street than in an actual schoolroom had robbed Lampwick of the thrill of 'no more school' that the other boys seemed to glorify? Tch. Pleasure Island was a paradise and as far as he was concerned, the best thing about it was the lack of a single sissy girl. Not that he hadn't loved his mother and all that, but girls of his own age had always grated on his nerves, no matter *how* cute they were.
Sure, they seemed pretty okay some of the time, many of them being prim and pleasant with their frilly dresses and soft, silky looking hair, but Lampwick found it extremely difficult to TALK to them. Not that he *couldn't* talk - he wasn't shy, he could spend hours on a nearly one sided conversation with all the interrupting he did - but it was more the fact that they wouldn't let HIM talk.
And boy, did Lampwick like to talk - loved, even, to brag about feats he'd never dared and places he'd never been. It was just something that came naturally to him, with the large ego and all. Besides, he was a born entertainer and when you told someone something, you wanted to entertain them, right?
It could have been his lousy luck, but the fact was that every girl he'd ever wanted to pick flowers for seemed to see this flattery as an opportunity to go on and on about boring things like gossip and their feelings. Lampwick had tolerated this at at first, because, while he was a naughty kid, even *he* knew not to interrupt a lady (his mother's wooden spoon had taught him that). It was a sweet relief, the day he finally asked the latest dame he was courting if she 'could just shove it' and stomped away, bouquet of daisies crushed underfoot. It was that day that he decided that he was done with girls - for GOOD.
Not a big deal for him, really; the boys in his neighborhood might not've liked him after being talked out of their allowance and school snacks one too many times, but at least they were a satisfying audience for his taller tales. He'd even managed to impress some of them on his more convincing days. They weren't his friends, but he decided he far preferred their gullible open ears to a girl's pretty but relentlessly yabbering mouth any day.
Okay, so the whole talking thing might have been a bit hypocritical of him - but he'd long since decided that he'd rather be a lone hypocrite than bored stupid.
Yup, Lampwick was a smooth talking loner, so when he found out about the carriage bound for Pleasure Island, he'd boarded it by himself, intending to keep it that way.
That is, until his desire to impress betrayed him and he'd trotted out what little knowledge of their destination he had to the thin, mousy mannered kid sitting next to him.
Lampwick hadn't let the boy talk at all, really, 'cause he assumed this would be a temporary thing and wanted to make the most of it. When they hit land, the kid would be sick of his gab for sure, desperate to dart off in a random direction, and they'd never see each other again.
So, it was to his immense shock, that he turned from the bright, colourful lights of the most amazing carnival he'd ever seen in his life - and found a view just as incredible to him: the same kid from the coach STILL hovering at his side, gaping at the sight before them with a foolish awe that probably mimicked his.
"W-wow! It's so... so BIG! Honest John didn't say-"
"Eh, I've seen bigger," Lampwick lied, shrugging and stuffing his fists into the pockets of his worn trousers, the picture of nonchalance.
"So, eh, what's your name, kid?"
The boy turned his head and locked eyes with him for the first time; Lampwick was instantly struck by how brightly blue they were, like a cloudless sky. Innocent.
"Me? I'm Pinocchio! And you're..." He paused, cocking his head, a cute look of concentration taking over his face.
"...Lampwick! Right?"
Lampwick grinned at the joy in Pinocchio's voice, his buckteeth sticking out. It wasn't often someone said his name with a smile like that. He liked this kid already.
"Yep, you got it! But I prefer Lampy if y' don't mind." He didn't have a preference really, he'd just felt like saying it.
"Why?" Pinocchio questioned, unexpectedly. Lampwick paused.
"'Well, cause... that's what my friends call me," He easily fibbed. Friends! Pfft.
"Oh," the shorter boy looked thoughtful, "You mean, *we're* friends now?"
Another unexpected question. This kid...!
"Eh, yeah, I... guess we are," Lampwick said, scratching the red hair at the nape of his neck, a little uncomfortably.
"Sure! Why not, huh? Put 'er there, new pal!"
They shook on it, the furious enthusiasm with which Pinocchio's smaller, white gloved hand gripped his own pale, freckled one surprising him.
"Whoopee!" Pinocchio clapped his hands together with an odd, dull clunk, "Another friend! Now I've got you and Jiminy and Honest John and Figaro-"
"Yeah, yeah,"Lampwick cut across the boy's ramble, "We can talk about your Jimmy or whoever later - what's say you and me go have some fun, eh? That's what we came here for, ain't it?"
It gave Lampwick a sense of satisfaction when Pinocchio simply nodded his head with an eagerness that matched his handshake and proceeded to tag along in the taller boy's wake. Back home, no one had *ever* let Lampwick be the leader of anything. It was pretty gratifying to know he'd be running the show, as they submerged themselves in all of the temptations and sinful diversions that Pleasure Island had to offer.
It might've been the charm of the island, but Pinocchio and Lampwick's first evening together was a blast.
First, they'd hit the bar, where Lampwick showed the kid how to play pool and gamble and smoke a cigar like a tough guy - Pinocchio was pretty good at pool, but he the gambling and the cigar smoking would take some work. The kid was too honest about his hand in cards and he seemed afraid of matches when it came to lighting his own cigar. Eh, he'd get used to it, Lampwick thought.
After they'd pigged out on the vast amounts of junk food available at the stands, Lampwick felt like a good tussle to loosen up, so he steered them towards the Rough House. Upon finding out that the kid was as hopeless as a twig at fighting, he taught him how to throw a good punch - or at least one that was less sissy. It almost seemed like a mistake when Pinocchio landed a pitifully weak blow on the biggest, meanest looking boy there. To Pinocchio's credit, the jerk HAD been making fun of his blue bowtie and Lampwick HAD told him that it was important for a guy to defend his honor.
'Well, so much for a friend...' Lampwick had thought with a sense of loss, certain that Pinocchio was done for as he trembled under the large, beefy kid's stoney gaze. However, the tables turned when the terror reached out to yank the small boy by the arm – and he suddenly shrieked, drawing back. It was with amazement that Lampwick watched the boy crumple into himself and then hilarity as the big baby ran away, squealing something about splinters. Heh, what a lousy excuse! Guess he hadn't been such a hard guy after all. Needless to say, Pinocchio had been showered with pats on the back by the other boys for winning his first fight, Lampwick proudly standing by and loudly making certain that everyone knew he'd 'trained' the winner.
The glow of victory hadn't quite faded before they turned their attentions to the Model House. Lampwick, having by now assumed that Pinocchio came from a very sheltered household, patiently instructed Pinocchio on how to properly wreck stuff. It was with relish that eh watched as Pinocchio, with the smallest of hesitations in his trembling, wiry arm, shattered his first window with a rock.
They'd hit the rides last, spending the most time on the enormous Ferris Wheel; after Lampwick had bragged his fill about the time he scaled one at a carnival back home to save a stranded kitten, he let Pinocchio show *him* something for a change - how to find the North Star, or ' the Blue Fairy' as he so fondly called it. Lampwick had noticed a weird guilt pass over the smaller boy's face as he talked about it, so he quickly distracted him by pointing out the beautiful view of the park. He'd figured Pinocchio missed his folks, but he didn't want the kid to get all homesick and weepy on him. It'd be pretty annoying and besides, Lampwick couldn't picture that dinky carrot-like nose all swollen and red. Wouldn't look right.
Altogether, it was a really fun evening, more fun than Lampwick had had in a long time. Even when all of the rides suddenly switched off (it *had* gotten late) and the pair were stranded at the top of the Ferris Wheel, it still wasn't bad. It was kind of nice that they could see the stars and Pinocchio even discovered a thin blanket underneath one of the seats in case they got cold. Morning found them curled up together underneath it, Pinocchio's plump cheek resting on Lampwick's tan vest, the taller boy's hand on Pinocchio's shoulder, both of their hats askew.
A few days had passed on Pleasure Island before it hit Lampwick that he'd actually made his very first friend.
Pinocchio was unlike anyone he'd ever met.
He never swore or spat on the ground like some of the other boys (and Lampwick) who'd come from families who'd lived on the street. In fact, the kid had this doe-like innocence about him, like he'd never even heard of cigars or alcohol or gambling, which was amazing to Lampwick as he certainly hadn't had such a wholesome upbringing. In all regards, Pinocchio was what one might refer to as a Goody Two Shoes.
Yet, for all his lighter qualities, Pinocchio had still made the choice to leave a home where he was well taken of and, like other boys, he had no aversions to mischief. Lampwick could tell that he enjoyed the vandalism and the gluttony and the other sinful going-ons they'd gotten themselves into on Pleasure Island.
In all odds, Pinocchio should have been like those middle class children back home, like those girls who yammered endlessly and aloofly about the mundane, but he wasn't.
For one thing, Pinocchio was a *fantastic* listener. He never ever interrupted Lampwick in the middle of his schpeal or seemed to mind the constant stream of advice and information. The boy drank up every word like he was learning things for the first time and, talker that he was, Lampwick liked that curiosity. Found it compelling, even. All he knew was that he'd thought of some of his best stuff since meeting the kid.
Yup, 'why?' seemed to be Pinocchio's favourite question to ask and that was just perfect, because it was Lampwick's favourite question to answer.
The feeling Lampwick got was that no one had ever bothered to explain the world or any of the other basic fundamentals of being a boy to him.
And now that they were friends, that job was his.
Hey, it was the least he could do, right?
During their short time together, Lampwick explained a lot of things about life to Pinocchio - from what made birds fly ("Eh, must be magic or somethin'.") down to the reason why chocolate ice cream tasted better than vanilla ("It just does, Pinocchy."). He enjoyed the way the smaller boy more or less clung to his side, looking to him for guidance, like a marionette to a puppeteer. One of the more important values that Lampwick passed along the strings was his motto.
"What does that mean, Lampy? 'A guy only lives once'?"
"It means, don't waste time! We've all only got one life to live, so if y' wanna do something, just do it!" Lampwick declared. To emphasize his point, he licked the lollipop he was holding and stuck it to the back of a passing kid's trousers, "Hehe. Get me?"
"Uh-huh! I get you, Lampy!" Pinocchio nodded, giggling a little himself.
Lampwick couldn't help but smile; even on the evening of their third day perusing the carnival together, the kid's receptiveness still enthused him. He'd really grown on him, this kid...
Suddenly, something caught his attention.
In the dark alley near the entrance of the pool house he and Pinocchio were heading towards, there huddled a crowd of boys. Most of them were taller, older and usually Lampwick would've ignored them, but tonight, there was an odd vibe to their congregation. Their bodies were pressed together in a disorganized mass and a few of them kept casting looks over their shoulders, as if they were shielding something secret from view. Even with the din of the carnival rides and happy screams around them, Lampwick realized that these boys were all talking in hushed, excited voices and their hands seemed occupied... wait!
Could they possibly have... ?
Lampwick instantly veered away from the entrance of the pool house, making a beeline for the alley.
If they DID have one, there was no way he was going to let this opportunity pass!
"Lampy? Wait! Aren't we going to play po—"
"We are! Just gimme a minute, alright?" He interrupted, not taking his eyes off the group.
Pinocchio quieted at once, but kept up.
When they reached the shady crowd, Lampwick pushed his way past one of the smaller boys, standing on his tiptoes. He was just tall enough to see it, what every greedy eye in the circle was fixed on - a book of pin-ups.
Now, Lampwick was fully aware that he'd given up girls a long time ago, but *women* were a different story altogether!
"Oh boy, oh boy! I knew it - someone musta smuggled in one of them special magazines!" He rubbed his ruddy hands together, a seedy grin splitting his face. It'd been way too long since he'd last seen one - his pants were already feeling tighter. He just HAD to have a peek.
"'Special magazines'?" A quietly curious voice next to his ear almost startled him.
Oh yeah: Pinocchio. He was innocence personified, but surely he knew about *this*...
"Y'know - those rags all them adults have, but pretend they don't? The ones with the *real pretty ladies*?" He waggled his eyebrows, adding a wink for effect.
A blank look. Oh geez.
"Okay, Pinocchy, I'm about to introduce you to one of the many wonders of being a guy in this world - hey! Quit hoggin' the magazine! Let someone else have a look, will ya?"
It took a few minutes and a brief scuffle over whose turn it was, but eventually, the pin up book made it into Lampwick's grubby hands. He eagerly flipped through the pages of curvy, long legged women before settling on a particularly slender one with sleek black hair and heavily lidded eyes. She was beckoning to him from a richly decorated parlor couch, outlined by a fierce blaze alight in the fireplace behind her - the picture of lustfulness.
"How's about this one, guys?" Lampwick smirked.
There was a general murmuring of agreement and other appreciative noises from the boys surrounding them. Lampwick reached down to undo the buttons on his trousers, his breath already hitching.
"Lampy, why isn't that lady wearing any clothes?" Pinocchio was peering around his friend's shoulder, the only face in the crowd that wasn't coloured some shade of pink. Lampwick, who'd already began his ministrations, did his best to answer between pants.
"N-not now, Pinocchy - just, just do what I'm doin' and you'll - *gasp* - understand, hear me?"
"Okay, Lampy..."
Lampwick tried to drown himself in his fantasies, to keep focused on the nude female on the page before him, to get swept up in the collective warmth and varied groans from all of the other boys working their hands under their belts, but it wasn't working. Pinocchio was distracting him. It wasn't because of the way he was pressed up against his side like that, but more the fact that he was *completely still*, Lampwick realized.
Well that was... weird. He tore his gaze away from the luscious beauty on the page and stared into Pinocchio's clueless face instead.
"Hey, whats'a matter with y-you?"
"What do you mean, Lampy? I'm standing here with my hand down my pants like you and the rest of the guys are." Pinocchio pointed at his trousers with his free hand, as if to emphasize that he was doing it right.
Lampwick's hand stopped moving, irritation tinting his weaselly voice.
"Yeah, I can see that, but why aren't ya.. y'know... touching yourself?"
"Touching myself...?"
Heh, look at him, his eyes scrunched up with confusion as if... as if...
Oh.
OH.
Lampwick withdrew his hand and wiped it on his trousers.
"You ain't *serious*, Pinocchio..." He muttered, incredulously.
Pinocchio mirrored Lampwick's actions, wiping and all.
"Serious about what? Why is everyone sticking their hands in their pants and making funny noises? What's going on? Is it a game?"
The taller boy could hardly believe his ears. Not knowing about the racy papers was one thing, but THIS was too much.
Lampwick cast one last longing look at the page with the seductress on it before passing the pin up book to the next pair of grabby hands. Then, he turned to his friend with a fresh determination and indicated for him to follow. They began shoving their way out of the throng of boys (which seemed to be growing as word of the magazine spread).
"C'mon, Pinocch - let's go to the pool house. I have somethin' to teach ya."
"Oh boy! Is it a new trick shot?"
"Not exactly..."
"This—" Lampwick indicated it,"— is called your manhood."
Once inside the pool house, Lampwick had steered them into one of the empty back rooms that was hardly ever occupied. No surprise either - most of the light bulbs were broken so the lighting was too dim to play pool by, for one thing, and for another, the only pool table in the room was missing balls. Thus, privacy was ensured - not that Lampwick had been shy to masturbate in front of the other boys before, but it was different when you weren't hiding it in your trousers, when it was in *view* for all to see and compare...
Somehow, he didn't care if Pinocchio saw it. It was just Pinocchio after all, right?
So Lampwick had sat himself down on one of the dusty wooden chairs in the corner of the room, Pinocchio flopping himself down onto the floor to watch the demonstration. And watch he did – from the moment he'd revealed himself, those wide, wondering eyes hadn't wavered for an instant.
"Manhood?" Pinocchio parroted. Loudly.
"Sshhh! Keep it down, will ya?" Lampwick growled, on edge. The smaller boy instantly clapped his hands to his mouth.
"Sorry, Lampy!" Pinocchio stage-whispered, eyes wide. Boy, was this kid too cute to stay annoyed at.
"Eh, no worries – anyway, your manhood is also called your penis, or your wiener, or, sometimes your wood." Lampwick continued, grinning a little at the euphemisms. Pinocchio seemed to perk up.
"Ohh, I've got plenty of *that*!" Pinocchio nodded, a spark of conviction in his eye.
Lampwick frowned, lowering his gaze to the rather average sized protrusion from his pants.
"Yeah, yeah, no need to brag about it," He grumbled, then added, "Are y' sure you never learned this stuff? I'd think you, of all guys, would be curious enough."
Pinocchio shook his head.
"Nope! I haven't got anything like yours," He admitted, his blue bowtie bobbing as he shrugged his thin shoulders.
Lampwick was about to ask what the heck he was talking about (how could he 'not have anything'?) when comprehension dawned on him. The kid had been stretching the truth a minute ago and now he was being honest.
"Well, don't worry, Pinnoch, most guys put too much on size anyway." Lampwick waved the matter away, "So – are ya ready to see how it's done?"
Pinocchio began to nod, but paused.
"How what's done?" He cocked his head, blue eyes clear and questioning. Lampwick facepalmed, feeling a little dirty when he spoke next.
"Masturbating, silly – touching yourself."
"Oh... okay, Lampy! I'm ready."
Lampwick took a deep breath and reached down. His manhood was still half hard from the pin up book earlier.
"Alright, so the first thing you do is grab it like this," Lampwick wrapped his hand around his manhood, a small gasp escaping him, "And y-you start off slow, see?"
He began to move his hand up and down in short, even strokes.
"Why?"
"'Cause you c-can't just jump into somethin' like this, Pinnoch – y' have to b-build it up a little first, it's just how it works. Now pay attention," Lampwick grunted; his manhood hardened another inch.
A few moments passed in which there was silence except for increasing number of gasps and groans from the older boy. Pinocchio broke it.
"Are you alright, Lampy?" His voice was soft, worried.
"Huh? Whuh...whaddaya mean?" Lampwick panted.
"It's just that master-baiting sounds like it really hurts!"
"N-no, it doesn't," The older boy retorted through clenched teeth, "Don't be a moron, k-kid."
Lampwick could practically hear the pout in Pinocchio's voice.
"But, then why are you making those sounds? Why does your face—"
"B-because that's how *good* it f-feels!" Lampwick cut across him. Unbelievable...
"Oh... so what happens next?"
Without looking up, Lampwick was aware that the boy had inched closer for a better view. Not too close for comfort, though – he was still a good couple feet away.
"Hold yer horses - we're getting' there! Just keeping watching, alright?"
He wasn't getting aroused quickly enough, so Lampwick closed his eyes and tried to conjure the image of that busty woman from the magazine. She'd been so slender and attractive, her hair black and soft looking, sort of like the swirl of dark bangs that stuck out from under Pinocchio's cap and drooped over his smooth, almost feminine face...
Pinocchio who was so innocent and kind and his only friend, maybe even his best friend... kneeling in front of him and watching him touch himself... because this is what friends did, didn't they? They helped each other out, no matter what, and this was just part of the deal of friendship. Heh, the kid's blue eyes were most definitely lavish with that appealing childish wonder of his right now as he focused in on this all important lesson of boyhood...
Lampwick moaned softy, increased his pace, rubbing himself quicker and quicker now that he was almost fully hard. He'd completely forgotten about the pin up girl, so immersed in thoughts of his friend and what he was doing. Lampwick's buckteeth gnawed his lip, furiously; his length was throbbing, growing slick in his hand and that warm draft that had suddenly drifted into the room felt kind of nice...
"Hey! This is like the time I lied to the Blue Fairy, only my nose grew!" The whisper came. Close.
TOO close.
Lampwick's eyes shot open – Pinocchio's face was inches from his manhood.
"PINOCCHIO!" Lampwick yelped and the volume of his voice seemed to blast the poor boy backwards with shock.
"Are you outta yer mind? What WAS that?" Lampwick demanded, his heart racing, his face as red as his hair. Pinocchio was similarly frazzled - his shoulders were bunched up as if he were trying to make himself smaller, his arms in a self embrace.
"I'm not, Lampy, honest! You *said* to pay attention and I was just trying to—"
"You can't get THAT close to another guy's manhood," Lampwick said, running his clean hand over his sweatily flushed forehead, still reeling. "It just ain't proper!"
"W-why not?" Even in a semi-fetal position, the boy couldn't seem to resist the question. Lampwick sighed; his pulse was calming now, but his blush remained.
"'Cause... y' only let someone get that close to your manhood when you REALLY like them, Pinocch." He explained, "And they have to like you back."
Pinocchio dropped his arms now, shifting so he was sitting back, supporting himself with his spindly arms.
"But, I DO like you, Lampy! And you like me – so it should be okay, right?"
Lampwick almost laughed. Oh, Pinocchio... only *he* could turn things topsy-turvy in barely a minute.
"Listen, kid, it ain't that simple! Besides, guys is only supposed to like *girls*."
Pinocchio frowned, uncomprehending.
"Why?"
"I... don't know, Pinocch," Lampwick said, uncertainly. It was the first time since they met that he'd flat out confessed to not knowing something. "It's some kind of a rule, I guess."
"But we're on Pleasure Island, Lampy – there are NO rules. You said so yourself," Pinocchio argued, his small hands clenching into determined fists.
Lampwick stared at him with supreme awe; the kid actually had a point.
He did sort of like Pinocchio... no, not sort of. He definitely liked him. Liked him from the moment he'd met him, to be honest. There was just something about the boy, whether it was the way he allowed himself to be lead without complaint or that spunky curiosity that lent a certain innocence to his view of the world, Lampwick wasn't sure which captivated him more, but he did know one thing: Pinocchio trusted him more than anyone ever had.
And that trust was mirrored back in that not all of the stories he'd told about himself were lies, that he'd let himself think of Pinocchio as a real friend, that he was comfortable with Pinocchio seeing his naked privates when he'd feel too subconscious with anyone else...
It didn't hurt that he'd always had the lingering thought that the kid was kinda cute... in a way he was reminded of how he'd felt about the girls back home, except this was better. What they lacked in personality and listening skills, Pinocchio had plenty of.
No doubt about it - Lampwick liked him.
And Pinocchio had pretty much just admitted to sharing the feeling.
"Aw, phooey, you're *right*," Lampwick said, "What was I thinkin', us listening to a dumb rule we're not even sure exists? We're on this island 'cause we're naughty boys – we can do whatever we want!"
Pinocchio's face seemed to light up; he jumped to his feet.
"You – you mean you *like* me?" He asked, his blue eyes glowing with boyish hope. Lampwick smiled, his buckteeth flashing.
"Sure do, pal! A whole lot, actually."
"Whoopee!" Pinocchio joyfully threw his hands into the air, "I like you a whole lot, too Lampy!"
And before Lampwick knew what was happening, Pinocchio had bounded over to him and planted an excited kiss on his freckled cheek.
To his embarrassment, Lampwick felt his face grow hot again. Pinocchio's hands jumped to cover his mouth, his plump cheeks adorable-y tinged with pink, eyes wide with at what he'd just done.
Lampwick's face, which had slackened into a similar stunned expression, gave that up for a rather lopsided grin instead. He must've looked like lovesick jackass, but he didn't mind – who was around to see?
Pinocchio seemed to relax at the sight, lowering his hands from his face with a shy little smile of his own.
"Well... 'a guy only lives once', right, Lampy?" He offered, sheepishly.
They laughed then and nothing felt more right than Lampwick's nasally chuckles mixing with Pinocchio's squeaky giggles.
Of course, after they'd gotten their feelings straightened out, Lampwick still had that raging erection to worry about. They'd resumed the lesson, Lampwick outlining the techniques of the actual act of masturbation more deeply, because he realized that his sponge-like pal preferred the insight as opposed to the relative silence in the beginning. When he was close to finishing, Pinocchio had suddenly asked if he could 'help' and simply the idea had sent Lampwick over the edge. Following the explanation of what "that white stuff" was, he promised Pinocchio that he could put their lesson into practice 'next time,' whenever that would be. Then, he taught him how to kiss to make up for it.
It wasn't like they were in a huge hurry, really— boys would be boys and on Pleasure Island, two young boyfriends could find scours of other fun ways to be naughty together besides the obvious.
And naughty they were.