I placed a hand on Bruce's taught ass and slowly rubbed his cheek. My other hand found the bar of dial and began rubbing my chest with it. Putting the...soap back down I reached my soapy hand to my cock and stroked it, causing the slippery soap to cover its bulging head and throbbing shaft. Leaning forward, I placed the mushroom head of my cock up against Bruce's ass-pounding fingers. He slipped his fingers out, grasped the slippery shaft of my cock and pulled me into him. My cock slithered. His arrows were straighter, flew farther and faster, and he almost always hit where he aimed. No truer friend than him have I met either. He saved my life several times, at the risk of his own. He hated the taking of another hunter's life, but he did it when it meant saving my life, or when it was necessary to protect our war party and to further our cause. No enemy arrow killed Broken Stick, it was a fever that came in his sleep and took him by surprise. His last words were to try to comfort. More

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