Date: Mon, 23 Aug 2010 18:16:09 -0400 From: Jason Subject: Scot's Seduction Chapter 5 Scot's Seduction Part 5 of 7 By Jason Sterling When I first took on the job of seeing to Scot's introduction to real-world life I was hesitant to expose him to some of my own proclivities, mostly those things that would be considered far-out or downright kinky. After a few days together I found him to be much more attuned to sexual matters than I was at his age, so I stopped trying to shield him from experiences that could be, in some circles, considered harmful to his growth into manhood. What gave me the freedom to be more open with him was a talk we had about his familiarity with such things as boy to boy sexual contact. He divulged, with no hint of embarrassment, that when he was fourteen and on an overnight encampment with the scout troop he was in, they had a 'circle jerk' that opened his eyes fully to the fact that the sight of other naked boys openly jacking themselves off was a turn on to him. Sucking dick in the privacy of a two-man tent afterwards by some of the older scouts was a lesson in understanding more about the diversity of relationships, be they boy/girl or boy/boy or even girl/girl for that matter! Then he asked me a question that I still have trouble finding a definitive answer for, "Why is the sight of two good looking babes making out together such a boner inducing action?" I took an easy way out of that conundrum by telling him that when he finds the root answer to that question to get ahold of me first and share this wisdom. I probed this kid's inner awareness of himself and the strange things other people do by asking him how he feels when he is at the Y pool and showing off his physique to the other male swimmers. "I'm kind of proud of my body and spend a lot of time trying to get into shape so I look good. So many of those other 'schmucks' with big, fat potbellies or skinny undeveloped arms and legs just make me puke. I may not be the smartest kid around, or the most popular, but building up my body gives me a goal to aim for. Who knows? Perhaps I could make a good living as a gigolo and eventually marry some rich bitch and be set for life." When I popped his bubble and said that there were not that many "rich bitches" in the pool at the Y, he responded, "Who gives a shit if they got a cunt or a set of balls between their legs. What you fuck at home at night is not the most important factor. I've learned to keep all my options open." This kid was a lot older than the tender age he displayed on his driver's license. Quite a bit less troubled by what Scot picks up by being around my own perverted life, I made no specific plans to ditch him for my usual Friday evening activity. I have been hosting a special friend of mine on an almost weekly basis for some time now. This friend was a high level manager at the company I worked for who had an extremely taxing and emotionally stressful job dealing with all sorts of personnel problems all week long. He was primarily straight in his orientation and a devoted family man who needed an outlet for his frustrations that he encountered on the job. I got to know him before he moved up the corporate ladder and since our jobs rarely put us together in the same arena we find no ethical dilemmas involved in continuing our friendship. I prepared Scot by only saying that I was expecting a visitor around six that evening and when he showed up we would take off and leave him alone for several hours, go out to dinner and when we got back home I'd go through a weekly routine with the visitor and for Scot to be not shocked by what he saw afterwards. This of course greatly perked up the interest of my young friend and all manner of sly and not so subtile questions poured forth. I just told him that there were different ways of dealing with stress and he was about to see one of the stranger ways of doing this. At precisely six a quiet knock at my door indicated that my friend had arrived for a session designed to bring him back down from the mental tension that had plagued him all week. He stood at the door with a small tote bag in his hand and dressed in an Armani suit that must have cost a thousand bucks, if not more. I introduced my friend to Scot and told him that later in the evening Scot would join us in our weekly 'behavior modification' bull session. I referred to my friend only as Fifi which put a quizzical smile on Scot's lips every time I used it. Leaving Fifi standing in the middle of my front room, Scot and I left to go out and have supper. All during the Italian pasta with delicious sauces and the great Chianti wine Scot peppered me with curiosity questions about my visitor. I brushed them off with a blanket, "Wait until later my little naive fellow. Just be prepared to have your mind opened to new experiences that smolder within every one of us." I was betting that Scot would have a rich learning encounter from all this rather than what some people might think of as a soul destroying, traumatic event. When we returned to my apartment after eight the whole place looked as neat as a pin. The mess created by two guys over the course of a week had been all replaced by orderly piles of tidy material. The carpets had been vacuumed, the beds made up with clean sheets and all the dirty dishes had been done and put away in their proper places. A light was on in the bathroom and the sound of scrubbing could be heard. I called out, "Fifi. Get your sorry ass out here now! I want to know why a slut like you isn't finished with a simple job that should have taken you less than two hours to do." In walked Fifi, a sight to behold. There in front of us was a blond wigged, dumpy broad wearing mascara and bright red lipstick. Her/its legs were sporting heavy, thick fishnet stockings and the feet were wrapped in tight stiletto heeled shoes. An extra tight corset was laced so severely that the wearer had to stand with perfect posture or risk not being able to breathe. The pressure of the corset lifted the normal man's nipples into small but ample breasts and rougue covered the nipples making them stand out even further. Around her waist Fifi wore a pink tutu which only drew more attention to her/its fat ass. Fifi demurely responded, "Oui Monsieur. You called?" In my deepest, most censorious voice I told my French maid that I was unhappy with the sloppy work she was being paid to do and to get into the living room and prepare herself for some well deserved discipline. She quickly hobbled into my bedroom closet, withdrew a slim whipping cane from the top shelf in the back and arranged a foot stool in the middle of the front room. "Am I to keep my stockings up or rolled down Monsieur?" "Drop them down to your ankles you bitch. I don't want anything between your ass and this switch to interfere with the sting you are going to feel when I try to teach you simple work methods. Sorry-assed bitches like you have to be made to pay for sloppy work. Is that understood?" The trollop standing there with a dejected look on her face was only able to cast a downward glance. She was prevented from showing a physical, submissive posture by the few garments she wore. "Assume the position, slut!" End of Part 5 Comments or suggestions always welcomed. sterling.jason (at) gmail (dot) com