Date: Wed, 8 Dec 2004 06:43:16 EST
From: PixaJax@aol.com
Subject: Men and boys Part 2

In fact, although I wasn't going to say so to Pierre, I thought that my
neighbour Michelle's son Jeannot was indeed a "pretty boy", long dark
hair that was almost falling into ringlets contrasting with a
surprisingly pale skin. He had one of those cupid's-bow mouths that
always startle you because they are the kind of full lips that you expect
only to see on a girl. He was friendly, polite and always eager to
please. I really liked him. Not sexually, of course, although I
instinctively flirted with him, offering him glimpses of my boobs and
once of my pussy when my bathrobe "accidentally" fell open. No,
definitely not sexually; it's just that I am a natural prickteaser, I
guess, and I was glad to see positively he reacted. And then, out of the
blue, my husband asked me to invite Jeannot round to find out if had
started masturbating!
I knew that luring Jeannot would not be a problem - he would come
running, sniffing like an eager puppy at the first whiff of my "assets".
But how to proceed after that, how to seduce him, was going to be a
challenge. Especially as there were TWO seducer's: me and my would-be
pedo husband. Another chat a couple of days after he first broached the
subject confirmed what he was after.
"Did you invite Jeannot round yet?"
"Not yet. Anyway, what on earth do you want to find out about his
masturbatory habits for?"
"The sexuality of pubescent boys has always fascinated me."
"Pubescent? The kid's barely 10! What sexuality?"
I refrained from mentioning the boy's eagerness to glimpse my breasts or
look up my skirt.
"A technicality," Pierre said dismissively. "Boys are horny little
beasts. Like male dogs, sniffing and mounting anything that arouses
them."
"Mounting?! For goodness' sake, you're not suggesting that sweet little
boy is into fucking yet?"
Pierre laughed.
"Probably dry-fucks his pillow. I did at his age."
"Oh ok, I guess you being a man know best. But I still don't see what
your interest is in a ten-year old boy."
"He's very pretty."
"Yes, you said."
"I love his mouth. So sensual. And those ringlets. Mmmm. And...."
His voice trailed off.
"And?"
"And he has such a lovely round plump bottom," Pierre concluded,
breathlessly.
A movement of his hand caught my eye. He was caressing himself through
his pants! A felt a sudden surge of anger.
"Don't tell me you're getting a hard on thinking about a young boy's
'cul'!" (cul = arse/ass in French)
"As a matter of fact, yes," Pierre replied calmly.
"Et tu veux l'enculer???" (and you want to bumfuck him? (enculer is from
cul)).
"That would be nice...," he said, as if it was the most natural thing in
the world.
"You are disgusting!"
"No, merely honest."
"But it's... it's....." - I couldn't find a strong enough word to express
my disgust - "....unnatural."
"Au contraire, ma cherie, On the contrary, my love, it's the most natural
thing in the world. There is a long and glorious history of men's love
for boys. The Greeks, for instance...."
"Fuck the Greeks!"
"Well, yes, dear, at least if they are young boys as delicious as our
Jeannot."
I sat fuming, unable to speak. Finally, as I thought more about it, I
started to calm down. Pierre poured another couple of drinks for us and
continued.
"You remember the stories about the Tuareg when we were in Tunisia?"
"What have they got to do with......." - and then I suddenly remembered.
Apparently, it was the custom for a Tuareg man to have a boy lover,
adopting one as early as 5 or 6 and training him in the arts of
lovemaking. When the boy reached adolescence, he was deemed to be a man
and would in turn find a very young boy to be his catamite, and so the
process was repeated endlessly. In fact the only sexual contact a man had
with a woman was for the purposes of procreation; otherwise he had no
sexual interest in women.
I turned to Pierre. I was calm now.
"So, you want little Jeannot to be your catamite, your boy lover?"
"That would be nice."
"God, you men are pigs, all of you!"
"True, my dear. It always amazes me that any woman should want a man. If
I were a woman, I would want a woman! Or maybe a young girl!"
He laughed.
"I would be a gouine (lesbian), my dear Marca!"
That struck home. I had already had some very heavy encounters with
Michelle, Jeannot's mother, and had to admit I liked the passion that
exploded between us.
"That's silly," I said, but without conviction. I couldn't keep the
giggle out of my voice.
"So, dear wife, will you invite our young friend round, and let's see
what happens?"
"You want me to lure him into this house so you can fuck him?"
"Oh, darling, let's not be so crude. Let's just say that the three of us
- you and I and the boy - can explore certain possibilities."
"That's what I said: you want me to lure him into this house so you can
fuck him."
"It may take time, Marca, we don't want to scare him off, do we?"
My antipathy to the idea had gradually softened as a growing curiosity
took hold of me. I tried to visualise watching my husband impaling a boy
on his cock, and at once felt a tingle. God, the idea was beginning to
turn me on!
"OK, you win, I will invite the boy round."
"Good. You are a good woman, Marca. And now, if you don't mind, I need to
jack off. All this talk of buggering little boys has got me so fuckng
horny...."
I felt excluded.
"Sure I can't help with that, Pierre?"
"Not really, dear. Think of me as your house Tuareg."
It was at that moment that I realised my husband's true sexual
orientation. And I was going to help him fulfil his pedophile desires.

[to be continued. Comments to pixajax@aol.com]