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Subject: Sissyboy Fashion Two (gay adult-youth Sissyboy Fashion Two (gay adult-youth) By Beautiful Creamer This is all fantasy. I don’t do this stuff and you shouldn’t either. What you should do is contribute to fty. I know. Part One was six years ago. Is it my fault that the space aliens who dictate this stuff to me through voices in my head dropped the ball? I don’t think so. Anyway… RECAP: Brett Tightpants, a gorgeous, virginal, seemingly heterosexual ten-year-old boy, was selected as one of ten delicious boys aged 8 to 11, whose parents took Sissy Boy Magazine publisher Biff Buggerall’s millions for surrendering their sons to Biff’s gentle embrace. Biff’s latest multi-billion-dollar venture was Triple-M (for “Molest Me, Mister”) Fashions. Clothing that young sissyboys would wear to tell men everywhere that they want men to molest them. Why couldn’t you or I have had a bit of that geus? Anyway… Traing as one of ten beautiful models for the introduction of Triple-M, Brett was surprised at how ce and non-sexual everything was. Eight-year-old Alex Pucker was assigned, with Brett, to room 269, a Holiday Inn-type room with en suite bathroom. And separate, queen-sized beds so there would be no gay hanky panky. All was well until the first real show — in New York. Unbeknownst to the boys, the Sissy Boy Enterprises man in charge, Mr. Bossman, encouraged the crowd to hoot, holler and make lewd comments. Mr. Bossman pulled another fast one on the boys. Instead of the polos and khakis the boys had been wearing in practice, the grown-ups made the boys do the runway in costumes that cannot be described in a mere recap. Brett’s fear and humiliation had the audience exuberant. Poor Brett even shot his spunk into the crowd. Untentionally. While humiliated. After the show, Brett and Alex were lauded by Mr. Bossman and asked to do him a big favor. Mr. Oleg Spermi, famous fashiosta, asked for a personal visit with Brett. A so-called Mr. Smith asked the same of Alex. Both boys were wearing their last runway outfit. Which was essentially naked. The boys agreed. Against their better judgment. As always. Of course they were molested. But not fucked. While precocious Alex did admister a lovely blowjob to Mr. Smith, Brett’s inevitable slide into cocksuckerhood was delayed by Mr. Spermi’s early departure. Both men vowed to see the pretty boys again at a future fashion show. Brett and Alex returned to their room and decided to practice what they had learned that ght. Just when the two naked boys were writhing around in Alex’s bed… Just when Brett and Alex were kissing and cooing after they had made love until they both orgasmed… The story stopped. Rats. But now, better than ever, I give you Brett and Alex. And their friends. One — Moments later (or six years later if you want to get techcal) Alex broke the world’s longest, wettest, tongueiest kiss in recorded history. The kiss was heavenly, but he just had to look down at Brett’s and his recovering peses. Alex was fascinated by Brett’s cock. And his creamy spendings. Alex knew at eight years old that he was too young to make boy’s cream. But he could sure have orgasms. Lots of them. And he also knew that Brett was only two years older than Alex. So Alex could be expecting his cummies to report for duty sometime in the next two years. Which sounded like an eterty to an eight-year old. Poor Alex, it seemed, was doomed to two years of men like Mr. Smith. They would be molesting him. Sucking his tiny cock. Having their cocks sucked by Alex. Giving him knee-buckling cum after knee-buckling cum. FORCING him to submit to men. While naked! All this before he was old enough to shoot. Oh! Alex needed cock. Right then. He slid down Brett’s body and took the pretty boy’s cock into his mouth, then showed him what he showed Mr. Smith. A really good, very cummy time. “Oh, Alex, Baby! That feels so good! You look so beautiful when you’re doing that. You were the prettiest boy in the show toght. The men loved you. And I think you love men. Oh, Alex! Honey!” And with that, Brett gave pretty, young Alex the sissyboy’s big reward. A mouthful of hot, delicious, nutritious sperm, Yum! Brett had never tasted sperm or even given a blowjob. Heck, he had just received the first knob bath of his life. Alex was the experienced roommate, having given and received a lovely pes-tonguing from Mr. Smith. It was time for Brett to catch up. Thinking that a ce, wet, tonguey, cummy kiss would be very sexy, Alex had saved a ce portion of Brett’s creamies in his mouth. Somewhat more skillfully than a boy of his limited experience should have been able to do. Brett was precocious too. He tounged about 90 percent of his own sticky cream into his own mouth, then slid south to apply his cum-filled mouth to his roommate’s teeny peeny. That day, Brett was brimming with precociousness. His first delivered BJ was worthy of a BJ veteran. The cum that Brett was drooling over Alex’s sissy pole as he fellated him was a lovely little extra. And lovely little extras seem to make for lovely big orgasms, don’t they? Alex shuddered as if he were having a seizure. Then again. And again. Dry cums can be multiple cums. So keeping score became difficult for Brett and Alex. But they had a lovely ght. And morng too. Two — Preparing for Milan At traing the next day, all the boys were wearing the prescribed new uform of the day–: “Molest Me, Mister” short shorts with wide leg opengs to invite molestation, a tiny T that said “Pleasure” or “Satisfaction” or “Lust” or something like that in spangles, bare feet encased in strappy, pink sandals with a two-inch heel. It became clear to Brett and Alex that they were not alone in their newly discovered sexuality. Nine-year-old Toby and his almost-12-year-old roommate, Charlie, were obviously swapping blowjobs and kisses. The other three sets of roommates were less blatant, but the sexiness of the New York show had surely aroused all the boys’ libidos. Hidden cameras in each of the boys’ five rooms showed Mr. Bossman that Brett and Alex had gone at it hammer and tongs as the Brits say. No surprise there. Nor was there any surprise about Toby and Charlie, since Toby had been copping feels from the other lads for the past week. Tommy (age 11) and Adam (age 9) had undressed and, instead of changing into their pajamas and getting into their own beds, got naked and got into Tommy’s bed, where they kissed and rubbed each other’s cockheads to some smashing big O’s. Colin (age 10) and Billy (age 8) got into their pajamas, but soon shucked them and ended up naked on the same bed. Just as an experiment, Mr. Bossman had left a babydoll ghtie on each boy’s bed in the last room. Pink for Marco (age 11) and white for Skippy (age 9). The boys blushed and hesitated. But when Skippy put his naughty little bedthing on, Marco’s boner was ridiculous. He wanted to look as pretty as Skippy did. They both wore the tiny garments. Matching panties were AWOL. They admired themselves and each other for ten minutes. Then tongue-kissed and groped each other for ten more. Until they fell onto Marco’s bed together and committed a very natural act. Skippy sucked Marco’s pretty pes to a blaster of a cum. And vice versa. With a lot of subsequent vices and versas. Oddly, none of the lads had yet engaged in any anal play. That would change soon. Mr. Bossman planned for it. The man had ached to “look in” on Brett and Alex the previous ght, act shocked at their disgusting display of homosexual depravity, then allow himself to be drawn into their wanton circle. But no. Biff himself had a development plan for the ten lovelies. And Mr. Bossman’s cock was not in the plan. Only two days of traing were left until the troupe left for Milan. Half the day had already been given to the boys to wind down after the show. Mr. Bossman had an excellent plan for the remaing time. “All right, you little cuties,” he said to the gathered boys. “By now you’ve figured out that the clothing you’re modeling wasn’t approved by any woman’s orgazation. No. What you’re doing is striking a blow for men’s freedom.” The boys looked at each other. Showing their stiff peses and plump bottoms to that pack of sex-ravenous creatures made them “freedom fighters?” Puzzling. Mr. Bossman continued. – “For the past million years or so, women have controlled sex, therefore controlled the world. But today, men no longer need to negotiate with women for sex. They no longer need to be nagged, mapulated and emasculated by women. Now they can have amazing, earthshaking sex any time of day or ght. Thirty days a month. Without nagging, mapulation or emasculation. They can have sex with the best sex partners on earth — sissyboys!” The tantalizing ten looked at Mr. Bossman intently. Unsure of his meang. Until… Brett said, “Mr. Bossman, are you saying we’re sissyboys?” “That’s up to you, Honey. I think you saw at the show yesterday how you sexually aroused all those men in the audience.” Sheepish nods all around. “My guess is that several of you explored each other’s scrumptious bodies last ght, am I right?” Oh dear. The boys looked at each other. Sharing their shame. Until, one by one, the boys realized that they had all done “homo” things yesterday. Now Mr. Bossman really had their attention. “I thought so. Now imagine this: you’re sitting and talking with a man — a real man — with a hairy chest, buff body and big pes. The man is in love with you because you’re sweet and beautiful and he won’t be able to live if he doesn’t OWN you! You’re so submissive and he’s so dominant. He puts his hand on your bare thigh and starts to move toward the flared leg openg of your Triple-M shorts. What do you do?” Mr. Bossman waited three seconds for an answer and then he got it, Eleven-year-old Tommy cried out and spunked his panties and Triple-M short shorts. Nine-year-old Skippy followed with a dry explosion. Mr. Bossman smiled. “OK boys. Thanks for the feedback. Time for traing. Today, we’re going to start getting you comfortable wearing some of the molestable things you’ll wear in Milan. Barry! Would you get these freedom fighters dressed, please?” The boys moved with a purpose to Barry the dresser. It took five minutes for the boys to dress. Fifteen more for them to admire themselves and others in the ubiquitous mirrors. They began to rejoin Mr. Bossman. Tottering in the four-inch-stiletto, outfit-color-coordinated sandals that Barry gave them. Wearing a variety of pastel-colored, very brief, very short, babydoll ghties. With filmy, designed-for-boys’-things, panty thongs that kept each boy’s goodies on display, yet secure. With straps keeping things up and covering the anus. One boy emerged from the gaggle first. “Oh, Mr. Bossman,” eleven-year-old Marco almost lisped. “I feel so bare.” “Imagine how exciting that is to a man, Marco. You’re displaying yourself for his pleasure. Surely you’ll let your man kiss you, won’t you?” Marco smiled shyly, batted giresun escort his pretty eyes and looked away. It was time for Mr. Bossman to advance the game. “Let’s not theorize, Marco. Let’s find out for sure.” And at that moment, a strikingly handsome, rugged-looking, buff, 30-year-old man joined the group. And stood by Marco. “Marco, this is Mr. Gropemore.” Marco stood stunned. It wasn’t fair. If they wanted to test if Marco was gay, they should have had him paired up with a 50-year-old guy with a big belly and a bad smell. Anyone would want some of that Mr. Gropemore guy. The guy was smiling at Marco. Who asked himself, “Why is that beautiful man smiling at me? He must think I’m pretty. And he wants to do sex things with me. He knows I’m a boy. He can see my pes. My achingly stiff, starting-to-drip pes. But he still wants me. He wants to MOLEST me! If I let him do that, I’ll be gay! I don’t want to be gay, right? It was bad enough what I did last ght with Skippy. But that was just boys fooling around. If I did sex things with men, that would be gay. But Mr. Gropemore is so handsome. And I think he NEEDS me. Because I’m so pretty.” Mr. Gropemore was no mind reader. But he had a pretty good idea of what Marco was thinking. “You’re very beautiful, Sweetie,” he said to the blushing Marco. “Are you happy here? Do they treat you well? Do you and Skippy have a ce room?” Marco thought for a moment. Does he really want me to answer all those questions, or does he want something else? Marco put his money down on “something else.” “Would you like to see my room, Mr. Gropemore?” “Oh yes, Honey. That would be amazing. Lead the way.” “OK,” the suddenly shivering-with-fear-and-lust boy said. Then he extended his hand to the man to lead him to what would surely be the site of Marco’s awakeng to gayness. They entered Marco’s room together. The man was fully dressed. Marco was dressed is a fashion that wet dreams are made of. The man sat in the room’s only easy chair. He didn’t beckon Marco to sit on his lap. The boy just did it. And, oh yeah, we should mention that Marco stepped out of his panties before he sat. Panties can be such an obstruction. Was Mr. Gropemore going to molest him now? He certainly hoped so. “You’re so beautiful, my angel. May I kiss you?” That would be so gay. Maybe if he kept his tongue in his mouth… Oops. That ship had sailed. The man was KISSING Marco. And tongue was playing a major role in the best kiss of Marco’s life. Maybe anyone’s life. The boy was steaming as the man ran his hand along Marco’s inner right thigh. Under the filmy, pink skirts of Marco’s babydoll ghtie. Oh dear. That felt so good. Poor Marco wouldn’t be able to resist any of the filthy, disgusting things that Mr. Gropemore would arrogantly expect of him. Because he was a big powerful man. With strong, compelling, filthy and disgusting urges and needs. Marco hoped they would be really great, filthy, disgusting things. No problem there, dear reader. The things they would do would be filthy and disgusting in the best possible way. Did Marco just open his legs a bit to give the gorgeous man full access to all his most private places? Apparently so. Marco surrendered completely to his molester. A man he barely knew. A man who wanted to make Marco gay! It was awesome! Mr. Gropemore’s naughty fingers had just reached the crease between Marco’s thigh and his torso when Marco cried out and spunked. How unmanly, the boy thought for a fleeting moment. “I guess I am a little man-loving sissyboy.” If so, now defitely was the time to begin to enjoy it. “I’m so happy you’re enjoying our time together, sweetie,” the man said. “You’re so beautiful and so sexy, you’re exciting me beyond belief.” Mr. Gropemore continued praising Marco’s beauty and docility as he rubbed the boy’s sperm all over his young cock and ballsack. Soon enough they were both naked. Fused together in kisses and cockrubs. On Marco’s roommate Skippy’s bed. Which tripped a switch in Marco’s brain. “What about Skippy, Mr. Gropemore? Will he be bothering us?” “No way my sweet darling. You boys will all have your own rooms from now on. In case you would like overght guests and such. Skippy is with a new friend, a colleague of mine. Having fun, I’m sure.” Oh dear. Mr. Bossman was making it easy for the ten beautiful boy princesses to be gay. Sounded good to Marco. As long as the overght guests were all like Mr. Gropemore. As Marco considered the delightful future opportuties, Mr. Gropemore slid south. Taking Marco’s little cock into his mouth while the semen were still relatively fresh. Oh! Skippy had sucked Marco’s cock, but this was a man. Wow! He was licking that one spot — the arrowpoint under the knob — exquisitely well. But that was the least of it. As he deliciously kissed, licked and sucked Marco’s pretty peeny, the rude man slid a rude finger into Marco’s asshole. His asshole! The first object that had ever traveled in that direction to his insides. Yowie! 100,000 volts! The boy groaned and lifted his head and shoulders as high as he could without dislodging his molester. What was that? Nothing, actually, until Mr. Gropemore found Marco’s boy’s place. Some call it a prostate. The man rubbed it. Marco called it orgasm time. Again. And again twelve minutes later. Marco was worn out. But he had to rise from his bed of homoerotic bliss/exhaustion and do his reciprocation duty. And a very pleasant duty it was. Mr. Gropemore wasn’t overly endowed, but Marco was too fresh to his new “orientation,” so no matter. Regardless of its average length and girth, Mr. Gropemore’s cock was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Stiff, skinned and drippy. With a prominent blue vein runng haphazardly up the right side. It looked delicious to Marco. And so pretty that the boy just had to give it a kiss. Right on the drooling peelips. And, having learned that kissing is so much more fun when tongues are involved, Marco extended his naughty tongue to the lips of the man’s peehole, and licked up all the pre-juice that the man was secreting. All was not going according to Mr. Gropemore’s timetable. But that was OK, because the man did not expect the boy to adore the manly cock quite so soon. It was really ok, because Marco was showing the kind of enthusiasm Mr. Gropemore had been contracted to stir up. And he hadn’t had to do much stirring up at all. Oh my. Having a beautiful boy suck his cock so delightfully was new to Mr. Gropemore, who was an old college chum of Mr. Bossman. Mr. Gropemore hadn’t done anything “gay” in his life. But he had certainly thought about it. That inclination was tuned up when he saw candid pictures of Marco (naked and naughtily clothed) and considered the ridiculously huge payoff from Biff himself. Mr. Gropemore signed on eagerly. He never expected it to be fun. Maybe the best fun he had ever had. Oh that little cocksucker was so beautiful. And so sexually attractive. Only bummer was that he had been warned about the consequences (permanent and severe) if he fucked the boy. “Introduction to the Anus 101” was the class he was supposed to deliver. But not a moment teaching “Introduction to Bumfucking 102.” Biff Buggerall wanted the boys to remain virginal. At least sodomy-wise. For now. Should he cum now, he thought. Or wait. Should he shoot in the boy’s mouth? On his face? Onto his chest? Oops. It all became moot when the man grunted helplessly and filled the young beauty’s gullet with his man’s cream. Wow! Suddenly, Mr. Gropemore packed. Had he grossed out the boy? Would the boy leave the troupe and blame Mr. Gropemore? Would he be getting one of those permanent and severe pushments? The boy backed away from the man’s cock. Sperm was runng from his mouth, forming the cutest cum beard. He locked eyes with Mr. Gropemore, smiled broadly and said, “That was awesome, Mr. Gropemore. Will you kiss me some more and then suck my pes until I shoot in your mouth?” Whew! The only permanent and severe things on Mr. Gropemore’s horizon were the permanently memorable orgasms they would give each other that fine day. Starting auspiciously with Mr. Gropemore delivering an exciting extra to the second blowjob he gave to the young beauty. Anal play. Excellent. As he licked the boy’s oozing knob, Mr. Gropemore slid an impolite finger into the boy’s vise-tight pootie. Marco yelped. And squirmed. But not vigorously enough to dislodge the welcome invader. So ce! So extra-naughty! The second finger was quite difficult to insert. But Mr. Gropemore was on a mission. A mission from Biff. In that second finger went. Marco gasped. Then squealed most unmanfully when Mr. Gropemore found the boy’s prostate and gave it what for. Oh, baby! The man was sucking and licking Marco’s pes in a highly ball-draing manner. And doing something powerful “on the inside” that had Marco’s spermy paratroops on full alert. The jumpmaster gave the order and millions of soldiers fled their aircraft. Marco didn’t just cum. He detonated. Everything inside Marco that could be called sperm or semen was evicted. The boy’s balls were arid. Mr. Gropemore’s mouth was flooded. He loved it. All of it. And he was proud that he had introduced Marco to his anus in such a pleasant manner. When Marco’s breathing was semi-normal, Mr. Gropemore embraced him and offered him some of his own boyish sperm to swallow. The two lovers divided the spoils equally. Then they kissed. Really kissed. And groped. Really groped. For a good hour. A very good hour. Defying several laws of the Uverse, Marco was erect again. Could he have made enough sperm for another wet cum? Mr. Gropemore was eager to find out. And there was one more teaching moment still on his agenda. Mr. Gropemore lay on his back, head on a pillow. He beckoned to the boy who would have jumped off a cliff for him at that moment. “Come here, Sweetie, and sit on my face, facing my feet.” Huh? Marco didn’t quite understand. Wouldn’t sitting on his face asphyxiate him? Only if the man’s nose was covered, Marco reasoned. Marco was quivering with anticipation of what this fresh heaven would bring him. He knelt on either side of the beautiful man and lowered his magficent bottomhole directly onto Mr. Gropemore’s hungry mouth. Beginners’ luck. Now what? Oh! The man was licking his poopie hole! Licking it. It was beyond erotic. Marco felt as if he were being worshipped. It’s not the kind of thing one’s sexmate does casually, after all. He had a bright flash of insight. It’s not just the mouth and pes for lovemaking. The bum can play a HUGE role in sexy fun. And then he stopped thinking. And gave himself over to pleasure. Marco didn’t know it at the time, but if he were to revert to heterosexuality, he could say goodbye to “tongue in bum” delights. And Marco really liked tongue in bum. As did Mr. Gropemore. He was a little grossed out when his pal, Mr. Bossman, described the task during gölbaşı escort his “orientation traing.” He was a bit grossed out then. But a payday is a payday. Eating ass for real was one of the loveliest tasks of his life. The boy LOVED it. He was so responsive. So impressed. And so grateful. A boy like Marco’s gratitude is a big prize. And seeing the boy develop as a committed, enthusiastic, underage, homosexual, sperm-inducer was its own reward. Remember how we said that every single one of Marco’s paratroops had jumped during his last orgasm? Well, apparently some of the troops had been hiding in the barracks. Or on pass. Or sick call. Because a full airborne division made the jump yet again for young Marco. Just from having his bum licked so lovingly. Curvy strands of sperm and semen leapt from the boy’s peehole. The boy screamed out in amazed bliss as the greatest feeling he had ever had set him ablaze. Well. Mr. Gropemore was proud of his work. And was barely able to resist doing what any same man would do after eating out a stunngly beautiful boy’s bum hole. That’s right. Roll him over and SHOVE your pes into his sopping anus. Mr. Gropemore fought the urge. And saved himself from a permanent and severe pushment. But it was a close call. Three — On to Milan Two days later, the boys were all smiling as they boarded their charter plane to Milan from New York. It seems that over both ghts each boy had been offered ball-busting, cum-soaked sex by amazingly hunky men. And they had all accepted. Eagerly. Each boy had a boy-hungry hunk the first ght. A different one on the second ght. A system designed not only to provide the boys’ scrotums some customer variety. But also to mimize episodes of “lovesickness for the man who took me around the world and back for two ghts.” The boys’ balls ached a bit from all the overwork. But it was a good ache. It was a good thing Mr. Bossman led a good, eight-hour practice on the last traing day. They had some new material for Milan. Material the boys heartily approved. And if they had had to spend those eight hours in their rooms with their “new friends,” they would have been too exhausted for Milan. The boys were strictly prohibited from sexual activity on board the airplane ride. Which suited them because a) they were tired after a ght of testicle-draing and b) they were promised men after the show in Milan, and they already preferred men over their troupe mates. So there they were. Backstage at the Milan show. Dressed. Lined up in groups instead of individuals. Ready to put on a different fashion show. There would be no runway. As the boys calmed their mild stage fright, they listened to Mr. Bossman telling the crowd that they could hoot and holler and catcall all they wished. Mr. Bossman peeked out at the crowd and counted. Exactly 29 top-flight fashiostas, influencers and media. Just as Biff had on his guest list. No man has ever scorned an invitation from Biff Buggerall. One man was missing, but Mr. Bossman was fully confident that he would appear. The show began. Brett was not the first out that time. Mr. Gropemore was. Huh? The audience was confused. They thought they were going to see tasty young boys in molestation-ready clothing. Instead, they saw a beautiful young man emerge from backstage, sit on the park bench prop, and pretend to read the local newspaper. For a crowd-restless 20 seconds. Murmuring in the audience, Until… Eight-year-olds Alex and Skippy appeared. Holding hands. Looking beautiful and AVAILABLE in their Triple-M short shorts. No panties. The crowd gasped. Mr. Gropemore didn’t. He kept reading as the boys walked back and forth in front of him. The crowd was yelling things like, “Put that newspaper down and molest those boys, you big dope!” Alex got tired of waiting. And used his pretty finger to rid the oblivious man of his newspaper. And his composure. He saw the two mega-beauties throwing their hot little selves at him and his eyes bugged out. Briefly. Then the man opened his legs so that a dollface could sit on each thigh. The man then proceeded to molest the boys. Stroking their precious boy’s things as he kissed them with lots of wet tongue. After a minute of this, the other eight beauties, similarly dressed, emerged. Alex and Skippy jumped off Mr. Gropemore’s knees and joined the troupe. They- all left the stage and mingled with the 29 guests. Allowing all manner of molestation to take place by the highest echelon of the fashion industry. What a lovely half hour ensued! For the rest of the nety-minute show, the boys would leave the molestation pit in twos. Coming back in a variety of fashions designed for both dickteasing (highly discouraged) and dickpleasing (highly encouraged). Brett had to pretend to fight off many molesters when he appeared in pink stockings and four-inch stiletto heels with garter belt. Topped by the briefest, filmiest pink babydoll so short it gave the potential molesters a fine view of the pretty boy’s lovely pink parts. Alex appeared in an all-black lingerie set that looked completely perverse on an eight-year-old virgin. Thus ridiculously arousing. He was molested all right. So were they all as they wore dresses and peignoir sets, lots of high heels, sometimes just micro-panties or no panties. A popular outfit was, naked except for sissy shoes and socks — black, patent-leather, single-strapped, Mary Jane shoes and frilly, turned-over socks. The boys orgasmed an average of five times each during the most exciting nety minutes of their lives. Except for Brett. After his second orgasm, while he was still wearing his pink sissyboy lingerie, he was cut from the herd by Mr. Spermi. That’s right. Mr. Spermi said he would be back for Brett and he kept his promise. Brett threw himself into Mr. Spermi’s loving arms and the man carried him to his waiting limo. Kissing all the way. “We’re spending the weekend at my Ritz Hotel honeymoon suite, my beautiful darling,” Mr. Spermi said. “No rush this time and no restrictions. I’m going to slide my pes into you and fuck you all weekend, my precious little bum virgin. You’ll love it. And it’s all been cleared with your employer. How does that sound, my beautiful angel?” “Oh, Mr. Spermi! That sounds wonderful. It’s what I’ve been dreaming of since the ght we met. Will it hurt?” “Maybe a little, but then it will be all pleasure. Yours and mine.” “Will it make me pregnant?” “I don’t think so. But I’ll do my best.” Four — Post-show in Milan It was a very pleasant weekend for the men who attended Biff Buggerall’s fashion show. Biff selected what he believed were the ten men who could most help him sell his new line. They got the fashion troupe virgins. The other 20 got an excellent second prize. Biff had assembled 25 of his finest fuckboys on the occasion of Biff’s latest multi-billion success. The 20 runner-up men were taken to a lovely hotel with exactly 20 uts on a floor of luxury suites. The lucky 20 had a sissyboy spunk party all weekend! Not bad. The top ten, of course, got the grand prizes — an almost innocent ass-virgin who is impossibly randy and even more impossibly beautiful. AND they would get to snatch away their virgities. Drown their virgities in a lake of sperm. Having five-star sex every moment they wanted it for 48 hours. Just as an extra extra for the elite ten couples, Biff arranged for a switcheroo of partners halfway through. Mr. Spermi asked that he be allowed to run his thick cock out of Brett’s tiny, helpless anus without switching. Since Mr. Spermi was number one on Biff’s I-need-you-as-a-friend-so-I-can-make-more-billions list, he got his wish. Speaking of Brett and Mr. Spermi, Brett would have probably been impressed with the massive suite the rich and powerful man had selected for Brett’s first fucking. Only problem was, he didn’t see any of it. Mr. Spermi carried Brett in, locking him in a deep, wet, very tonguey kiss as they covered the considerable ground between the door and the bedroom. Ah, the bedroom. Brett was impressed with the bedroom. And was glad he was getting his first fuck in that bedroom rather than in a boy’s bathroom at school. Or in the backseat of a teacher’s car. Or a 30-second fucking in a neighbor’s woodshed. Yuck! The bed, which approached the size of the national debt, would be the scene he would always remember. So let’s make it as memorable as possible, Brett thought. “Let me bathe you my darling before we make love. I know it’s your duty to allow those peasants to maul your beautiful body, but I want to be the only one who molests you from now on. So let’s get that stink of those rogues, who call themselves `fashiostas,’ off you.” “Ooh!” Brett thought. “My man is going to bathe me! I’ll be naked, I mean more naked than I am now. And he’ll be rubbing soap all over me with a warm washcloth. Then he’ll dry me with big towels, powder me and dress me. Dress me for anal penetration.” Ooh! It was way better than a two-Ooh experience. Mr. Spermi took his time. And emphasized the cleanliness of two key areas — the pele region and the anus. The man must have spent ten minutes washing Brett’s pes and testicles. Ten lovely minutes. The sweet boyparts were squeaky clean and stayed clean until — oops — Brett shot his boy’s cream. Which delighted Mr. Spermi, of course. And made Brett feel pretty good too. There were good feelings all around as Mr. Spermi switched his attention to the care and cleang of Brett’s stunng ass. The two men with whom Brett had recently enjoyed an eveng, showed Brett that he was quite anally oriented. He loved the attention that the men had given to his ass, but they wouldn’t go far enough. Brett knew that men could fuck boys. Goodness knows he had seen the Spermbutt Anal Lubricant ads enough on TV. He remembered watching the Super Bowl with his Daddy earlier in the year. Brett couldn’t help noticing how Daddy’s cock tented his pants when the ad introduced a naked man and his naked son. The son testified: “Two years ago, when I was ten, Daddy started fucking my pretty bottom. It hurt and I didn’t want to fuck very often. But then Daddy started using Spermbutt Anal Lubricant and now we fuck seven or eight times a day. Thanks, Daddy!” At which point the naked couple demonstrated the product. Daddy Spermbutted the boy’s anus while the boy Spermbutted Daddy’s huge cock. The boy got on all fours and his Daddy speared him good and proper. Seconds later, since ad time is expensive, the boy shot his sperm (caught lovingly by the camera}. The camera then watched as Daddy dropped a large load in his boy’s pussy hole. The last shot was of the boy’s asshole leaking cum as the announcer said, “Spermbutt Anal Lubricant, your sissyboy will thank you.” So Brett was pretty sure he knew how his eveng would develop. And he was all for it. The man’s warm washcloth lightly scrubbed Brett’s pink pillows. If you can call three long minutes cleansing each magficent göztepe escort bumcheek “lightly.. This was followed, of course, by the man’s open adulation or Brett’s bum, kissing every pore of the soft, pink pillows. That was all soothing and loving. And sexy in its own way. But it was time for man and boy to get down to serious business. Gently, almost reverently, Mr. Spermi used his thumbs to separate Brett’s bum cheeks. Revealing the grand prize. Brett’s anus. His pootie. His poopyhole. His wrinkle. His bumhole. The place where the really big fun would be happeng that glorious weekend in Milan. Brett shivered with fear. The man was half love-crazy over Brett’s bumcheeks. What would the man do to the poor, defenseless sissyboy’s most private, intimate spot? Would it hurt? How badly? Would he like it? So far, Brett liked it a lot. Thinking rationally, which is no easy task when a man is drooling over one’s anus, Brett knew that Mr. Buggerall would disembowel anyone who hurt one of his boys. Beyond the normal hurts of “first anal,” of course. Anal was Brett’s destiny. Brett knew it. He also knew that he would be “doing anal” for the rest of… Whoa! Mr. Spermi just stuck his face into the fold between Brett’s bum cheeks. He wasn’t just licking and kissing that private area all over. The man seemed to be EATING Brett down there. The man was a ravenous beast! He was chomping away in a delicate area and… Double whoa!! It didn’t hurt. Therefore the man’s sexual voraciousness was doing only good. Lots of good. Good good. Oh baby! Brett knew what it felt like to be adored. And he loved it. He knew he would never be able to feel that way as a straight boy. Mr. Spermi could chomp away all day as far as Brett cared. It was wildly exciting for both lovers. Especially when Mr. Spermi stopped eating and started lubricating Brett and himself with Spermbutt Anal Lubricant (the sissyboy’s friend). Oh my. It was fucking time at last. Doggy style. Mr. Spermi rubbed his peelips against Brett’s slippery entrance to bliss. Kissing the anal lips before slipping in. He pushed. Just enough to make Brett gasp. Was it from pain, pleasure, or wonder? At the moment, Mr. Spermi didn’t care. He would ask Brett about it all later during pillow talk. He pushed again, lodging the head and three of his pes shaft’s six inches. Brett whimpered. But pushed his ass back in the direction of the man’s cock. He wasn’t trying to get away. He was after more cock. Last push and a satisfied squeal from the boy. Mr. Spermi paused. Brett wiggled his ass and said, “Please fuck me, Mr. Spermi. I need it.” A phrase we would all like to hear more often. Mr. Spermi was eager to comply with Brett’s wishes. He gave Brett a lovely bout of in and out. Every square millimeter of Mr. Spermi’s pes fell in love with Brett’s boypussy. The boy’s love hole pleasured the man intensely. And the boy himself, of course. Brett felt only a tiny smidgeon of pain as Mr. Spermi began to fuck him. Then it was all anal delight. The ce man even gave Brett a sweet “reacharound” to run the pleasure meter into the red zone. As the man approached orgasm, he began to speak only Italian to his lover. Brett didn’t mind. He just wanted him to focus on the fucking. Who wouldn’t? It was some great fucking. Brett told Alex afterwards that he had never enjoyed anything in his life one -millionth as much as he did that fuck-filled weekend with Mr. Spermi. Who, by the way, switched back to English when he said, “I’m cumming, Honey! A big, creamy man load in your beautiful ass. Just for you. Cum with me baby!” And Brett did. Bang. Zoom. A mutual masterpiece! Was Brett’s orgasm pele or anal? Probably both. So it was XXL. And there weren’t enough X’s to describe the other 24 orgasms Brett had that fine weekend. Or Mr. Spermi’s stunng total of 17 orgasms (some of which were mere dribbles, but they felt like gushers). Maybe Brett was homosexual after all. Let’s check in on Alex, shall we? We haven’t said much about the first episode’s co-star in the second episode. Alex was expecting that after the show he would be paired with Mr. Smith, to whom Alex had given the first blowjob of his life. And Mr. Smith had given Alex the same. So imagine the boy’s disappointment when… Wait. Someone was arriving late for the show. Why would anyone want to miss ten seconds of molestationpalooza? The guy must be a real loser and… Yet another whoa! It was Mr. Smith!! Racing to Alex’s loving arms. Oh, frabjous day! Alex didn’t want to hear apologies for lateness. He just wanted to be alone in a ce hotel room with Mr. Smith. Giving himself to his man. Getting love and debilitating sex in return. Mr. Smith wanted to fuck the eight-year-old beauty right then. But Biff Buggerall, via videophone, convinced the pair to keep it in their pants for ten more minutes. The love nests were all upstairs in the hotel where they held the fashion show. Biff was pleased that Mr. Smith made his date with Alex on that historic day. Since it had been a busy day for Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith, it seems, was also known as Senator John Bumsticker, chairman of the Senate Boyish Consent Committee. It was the day that the Senate passed the Twenty-Ninth Amendment to the Constitution. Making it legal for a man to fuck a consenting boy aged at least ten years and three months. The states were standing by, eager to ratify. John Bumsticker was a hero to America’s men. And most of the boys. Question: When there had been all that kerfluffle about ten years and three months, why was Mr. Smith about to spend a weekend fucking an eight-year-old beauty? Why did Hillary climb Everest? Because it was there. And he didn’t need any sherpas or oxygen masks to fuck Alex. It was quite a testament to Mr. Smith’s self-control that he was able to hold back his molestation of Alex until they got to his suite. Alex had been on his mind every minute since the New York show, When they arrived at the suite and sped to the bedroom, Mr. Smith did pause to gaze once more at Alex in his last virginal moments. Alex was wearing what Biff was sure would be a huge seller for Triple-M. All black. Seamed, fully-fashioned, ultra-sheer, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings. Four-inch-stiletto, patent-leather pumps. Ruffled garter belt dotted with tiny pink bows. Ultra-sheer peignoir set, open in the front. No bra. But panties that Biff believed would be his best seller. They were mere strings except for the pretty little, sheer, filmy, black, stretchable pouch that saucily held the boy’s pretty things and expanded with his excitement. OK, you say. This won’t work, Biff. You can get all that stuff cheaper at a Frederick’s online. Not in the sizes for really young boys. And not individualized for each boy after the salesclerk lovingly measures each lad’s full body. Including his pes size. And his “responsiveness.” Those intimate, girlie things on a gorgeous eight-year-old boy made the whole, sexy situation extra obscene. Thus way more exciting. Alex knew he looked smokin’ hot. Which in itself is a great aphrodisiac. Mr. Smith knew Alex looked smokin’ hot. And he aimed to do something about it. Starting with some famished kissing and groping. Mmmmm. Lots of that. They could have done just that all weekend and it would have been the greatest weekend ever. But there was so much more they could do. And they did it. All of it. Beginng with Alex’s pert, puffy pples. Alex gasped with erotic delight as the Sissyboy’s Hero sat on the bed and went to work on the standing Alex’s love nubs. “Oh! He likes my titties!” Alex thought. “I wish they were bigger, but he seems to really like them. I like what he’s doing. A lot.” Mr. Smith took his time with Alex, who was showing great patience for his age. In Mr. Smith’s experience, a boy is usually too impatient for his fucking until he is 10 or 11. Not Alex. He moaned with delight when Mr. Smith turned him around and began to kiss his neck and back. Slowly working his way down to the boy’s bubble bumcheeks. Kissing the pink pillows all over. Making Alex shiver when he “parted the twins” with his thumbs and began kissing and licking the tender skin flanking Alex’s anus. And there we have it, dear reader. Alex’s first orgasm of that incredibly lovely weekend. Mr. Smith had had enough of warm-ups and was ready for the main event, Two more pleasant tasks to go before fucking that tiny heie. Mr. Smith showed young Alex’s asshole what a good, old-fashioned “boylover’s favorite meal” looked like. Wow! Alex really liked that. Though he winced when the man used two fingers and a 55-gallon drum of Spermbutt in an attempt to lubricate and dilate, It was going to be an extremely tight fit. Mr. Smith could see that already. Before Alex added two and two and realized that Mr. Smith’s six-inch bumblaster was going to stretch things a bit painfully, Mr. Smith did the gentlemanly thing. Mr. Smith fucked Alex. Pain, shmain, Mr. Smith thought. The little beauty is desperate to be fucked. Somebody will fuck him soon. Why not me! Another well-rationalized action. Where would we be without rationalization? Mr. Smith slid Alex’s panties down, had him lean over a table in the suite’s kitchen, stood him on a couple of boosters the hotel generously provided for men checking in with pretty boys, and ask to be fucked. “Oh, please, Mr. Smith. Please fuck me. You’re my dream man. And I need your cock in my bottom!” OK. Lined up. Push. Wow! Mr. Smith was an experienced boy fucker. He prepared the boy in the best way he could. The boy was begging for a shagging. But he hit a wall of tightness. Mr. Smith was undeterred. He rubbed his peelips all over Alex’s anus ring. Kissing Alex’s neck and telling him to relax. Alex took a deep breath and untensed his shoulders. It opened a tiny window for Mr. Smith to push. In!! Just the knob. Alex opened his mouth to scream out the worst pain ever. But before Alex’s scream made a sound, Mr. Smith SHOVED the rest of his cock in. And that scream woke up roosters in the next time zone. Mr. Smith kissed Alex’s neck and rubbed his pretty cock. Just the way a boy likes it. He praised Alex’s beauty, telling him how stunng he was and how men would do anything for him. He praised Alex’s courage, telling him how Mr. Smith had never known an eight-year-old boy who could take a real man’s cock in two thrusts. It worked. Alex got with the program. Wiggling his bum a little to enjoy its fullness. Mr. Smith tried his first stroke. Long and slow. Another. That one defitely rubbed Alex’s prostate. Which had Alex seeing stars. Another and another and another. So exciting. So exhilarating. So much man’s cream in Alex’s besieged butt. Oozing so cely right after Mr. Smith withdrew his beef bayonet. Kissing. Lots of kissing. Promises of eternal love and devotion. An excellent bout of fellatio — man on boy. Followed by an even better example of the sweet art — boy on man. What a weekend it was for the fashion world. What happened when the troupe went to Paris for their final show? I have no idea, but I’ve been talking to Brett and Alex to get their side of the story. I’ll report back to you. Please tell me what you think at beautifulcreamer@yahoo ail.

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