Date: Tue, 09 Aug 2016 15:37:50 +0100 From: Boy Ahoy Subject: THE TOMGIRL Gay Adult/Youth THE TOMGIRL by Boy Ahoy Disclaimer: Don't do this kind of thing, ever. Donate to Nifty instead! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html _____________________ Strauss, again. On the other side of the wall, violins and celloes tapped out the one-two-three rhythm of another, more romantic age. The apartment complex was built of paper and glue, it seemed, and my neighbors had no secrets from me. So when he massacred another army with his online squad on his battered Xbox, I knew. And when his drunk father came home, late at night, and fucked the shit out of his little tomgirl, I knew. Now, I had first heard him slam the door after school, the screech of living room table and chairs being pushed against the wall, waltzy tones booming from the stereo, and the tap-tap-tap of him practicing his ballet moves. Then a thump. - Fuck! he mumbled from the other side of the wall. A timid knock at the door, again. A boy, who looked like a tomboy girl. Big eyes, bad haircut, full lips, ratty second-hand leotard, white novelty store tutu. - I need to practice my balance, Mr. Ryan. Do you have the time to spare? So proper. Dainty, even. - Sure, I said. - Come in. And for a while, to second hand waltzes from his apartment, I steadied him, watched him stretch his thin boy limbs, held his naked foot (ballet shoes yet to be added to his thrift-store costume) high in the air while he tortured his toes on the other foot and held his arm in a graceful arc, again. My hand found the enticing little bulge on the front of his crotch. No girl he, even though he was one in his mind when he danced. My finger traced the line of his tomgirl boy cock, stiff, damp from his strenuous exercise. I moved closer, sniffed the sweaty ballet boy. Let him feel my big, hard desire of him. Her. Whatever. He stayed there, stretched out, breathing with an open mouth. I rubbed him gently. Then I found the hole in the back of his leotard, the one I made earlier. Sweaty boy ass. I pushed my sweat pants down, spit on my cock and pushed the head through the hole. It stretched, so did his anus. Up against the wall, I fucked him slowly. I let down his foot, and fucked him faster, my hips moving in a white tutu cloud. Now he was ungracefully supporting himself against the wall with both hands, to withstand my steady thrusts. Cock through leotard, into boy. Sliding in, appearing again. My thighs complained from the slight bend, because I had to lower myself to match the level of his exquisite tomgirl ass. My index finger found his spike again, stroked it up and down, feather-like, just as he liked it, in double-time to my heavy fuck-rhythm. - Oh, oh, oh, he piped. I was the beast, he was the beauty, and the beast fucked his thick, gnarly cock through the smudged white leotard, and my animal cum was charging. And then he came. His ass hugged my cock tight, and that was it, I pumped beast cum into the little dancer child, and stayed there, sperming the inside of him with dirty joy. I watched the base of my cock pulsing, the rest invisible within the white leotard tinged brown around the hole, the sex sweat seeping into our clothes and the air. Child ass. Man beast. - Thanks for helping, Mr. Ryan, he said, up against the wall. I pulled my cock out. Yellow-white stuff ran out of his hole, soaked up by white fabric. - I like helping my little dancing girl, I said and kissed him on the top of his damp head. He smiled happily. In a little while, he would be shooting up monsters on the other side of the wall again, and I would know. Tonight, his father would come home drunk again, and I would know. And tomorrow? Strauss. Again. _______________________________ This is a fictional story, and quite different from my other, more savage ones. It is inspired by a real life boy and a real life man, and what could have happened in a different world. As always, thank you to Zach for not holding back, whether something is bad or something is good, and to Proton, for reminding me that pleasures don't always need to be extreme. Although this IS pretty extreme, too, I'm sure he'll point out. Any feedback is welcome, short or long. I answer all emails. If you want, I'll send you the list of my other stories, but they are - as I said - different, longer and often kinkier than this. You have been warned :) My mail address is mj290858@riseup.net