Date: Sun, 1 Jun 2008 14:13:42 +0100
From: tina foster <tinafosteruk@gmail.com>
Subject: Attached Enclosed (TV/Dom teen)

I'd met young John at an evening course we'd both been doing. We had
actually met in the queue to sign up, with me dropping a coin and bending
to pick it up, the start of the tale. It'd been much later that things got
interesting, as it were. And, that was after we'd not seen each other in
ages.

I'd introduced him to some friends and soon he'd been socializing with a
whole different group of people, very different from the no-marks he hung
around with.

I'd really liked his company and some evenings we'd sit and talk, smoke a
weed, watch films and all the while, there'd been that sexual undercurrent
between us.  He knew I was bisexual and one day, had asked me if I fancied
him. Of course I'd said `yes', but never pressed the point as it were, as
I'd not wanted to ruin the friendship.

Then one day, he stopped calling; stopped answering my calls and emails;
and that was it, I'd thought.

I'd resented his disappearance from my life, wondering if he'd just used me
in order to meet those I'd introduced him to. `Or was it something else?'
I'd mused.

And that might have been it, except for that email and a photo I'd not
forget in a hurry. In the subject line it had said, `check this out' with
an attachment, a .jpg.  Needless to say, curiosity had got the better of
me; and, I'd opened the attachment.  There on the screen had been a pretty
large fleshy member, the crown bigger than most I'd seen.

I'd seen that picture before, just after I finally confessed that I enjoyed
wearing women's lingerie and that the slip of pink lace that he'd noticed
above my coal black jeans that time we met at college wasn't a one-off, as
I'd insisted that it was.

That admission of mine one evening had led to his question and then to us
exchanging photo's, with mine showing some quite submissive poses, dressed
in my pretties.  I'd liked what I'd seen in his pic and told him so.  And,
for awhile, every time young John called round to get stoned with me,
there'd been that sexual tension in the air; a sweet frission that filled
me with anticipation.

Then he'd stopped calling.

Over the days since that email, that photo's image stayed with me, as I had
thought of myriad things I'd have done for him.  That photo, of his boxers
round his thighs, tee-shirt drawn up, to expose his flat stomach; while he
held his shaft in his hand. He was about my length, but thicker, with that
large-domed cut crown, oozing pre-cum.

And, the message that had accompanied the pic, `Want this?'  Simple,
direct: to the point.  I knew I had to reply; I just had to. But, what to
say? I'd not heard from him in ages; and although I'd missed his company,
it was that beautiful cock I'd thought of, everytime I'd closed my eyes, to
blink. I'd been obsessing and, knew it.

Yet pride kept me from replying. After all, how would it look for a man of
fifty to be chasing a young man like this? `Easy, it'd look like it was,' I
reminded myself.  Finally, after several hours and a couple of whiskey's
though, any hesitancy was lost and thought's of lust took over.

I had re-opened the email, then pressed reply.  "Very nice," I'd written,
the pressed send.  When I'd next checked my account, there'd been an
answer, a simple one: "Still interested?" It had read.  "Yes" I'd replied,
having looked at it again, just seconds earlier.  "So do you want it?" he
had asked.  "Oh yes," I answered.  "But I do need something Sir, I need a
cuddle and my nipples played with first..."  "??"  "I need to feel
femme. Before a man takes me. Is that alright, Sir?!"  I think he had liked
the honorarium I had bestowed on him.  "Yes. Saturday. Be ready..."  He
knew I'd be free Saturday of course, after all, we'd been hanging together
for awhile, till he stopped calling.  "Yes Sir," I replied, "I'll be
ready."

I had shaved my chest and my legs, then found a crisp white shirt, which I
wore with a red wool tartan skirt, that ended mid-thigh. It was tight
across my backside and had an elasticised waist, so I'd not too much
difficulty easing it over my hips.  The panties I wore, were brief, light
pink and edged in lace: and, I wore them back to front, so my genitals were
hugged into place, with the gusset pulled tight between my arse-cheeks,
rubbing hard against my anus, liberally coated with Vaseline.  On my shaven
legs I wore a middle-denier pair of tights in American Tan.  Once I'd
finished getting ready, I thought I looked pretty good. Well, at least I
hoped that John would think so. Gawd, how I'd wanted him: so badly.

When he knocked on the front door I was wearing my blue terry-towel robe
over the outfit, ready for him, yet nervous as hell.  Although I'd known a
lot of men, this was the first time I'd wanted to submit, to another; not
just his femme, but his slut, cunt, whore, anything he might want.  I'd
opened the door, cautiously at first, as John entered my home, a smile on
his face.  Then, I quickly closed the front door, anxious to be alone with
him.  I'd taken him through to the kitchen, where I gestured for him to sit
at a bench-seat at the table.  "Do you want a coffee, with your cuddles?" I
asked with a grin, very aware that John was staring at my nylon covered
legs, with a smile, as I'd motioned round the kitchen.  I was so sexed-up
I'd do pretty well anything he wanted of me. But thankfully, John didn't
know that. He wasn't aware just how bad I wanted his cock.  "Why don't you
take the robe off? He asked me, with a distinct leer on his face.  The
curtains were open and I already felt quite vulnerable, my femme clothes
neath the blue terry-towel bathrobe.  No matter how much I wanted him, or
rather his cock, that was asking too much, I thought.  I looked at him;
this wasn't the quiet lad I'd developed a friendship with.  "If I'm taking
this robe off, can I do it in my room, please Sir?" I added the Sir, as I
knew that John liked it.  Yet he was quiet, still looking legs. I didn't
have heels; though I'd like to have worn them, for him. But, from the end
of the robe down, it was apparent what I was wearing and it was obvious
from the look on his face, he liked what he saw.  I felt very
conspicuous. Other than the ex, who'd taught me of my femme side, I'd never
dressed before another.  I'd cottaged, before her. I liked cock.  But, John
would be my first, in ever-such a long time.  He would also be the first to
see me dressed in my pretty-things, since Tina.  "I'll put on some blue for
you to watch, while we cuddle," I encouraged, then added as an
afterthought, "and there is a joint waiting in the ashtray."  Still
nothing.  But, I noticed him lick his lips.  It was plainly evident john
wanted me, a lot.

"Finish making the coffee," he instructed.  He stood and made his way to
the kitchen door.  "I'll be waiting for you, okay you slut..."

I hadn't expected him to call me that, but then I hadn't expected the email
he sent either. Besides, `slut seems appropriate,' I thought as I finished
making our drinks, considering just why I'd invited him round.  I was a
slut, for that cock I'd seen pic he's sent me. That much was true and the
fact that my anus twitched at the name he called me, suggested I was as bad
as he thought.

That thought had me smiling, as I walked through the living-room, to my
bedroom, where I knew John was waiting for me. `To fuck me?' I hoped so.

Just behind the door, on several shelves facing my bed, were my tv, vcr and
dvd recorder. I turned the tv on and placed a dvd in the machine, then
stood to face John, who lay in the middle of my bed, left hand behind his
head, as he stared at my legs.

Behind me the television flickered into life, adding its light to that of
the single bulb above our heads, resplendent in a very seventies blue
plastic glove, whorls etched into its exterior.

John was already smoking the joint.

I placed the drinks on the unit to his right and smiled, gently.

"All I want is cuddles and my nipples played with John... er, Sir and I'll
be your willing sub."

I looked at him, `arrogant sod'. He knew it was not mere words, I'm
sure. John must've realised my need and how he could use it. And boy, had
he been right.

"You want cuddles, you do something for me..." he said flatly.  I was going
to say, `that wasn't the arrangement.'  But I couldn't, not with the
prospect of his cock in me so near. I just couldn't.  "What do you want
Sir?" I asked in a quiet voice instead.

He lay back on the bed, caressing the bulge in his groin.  "Show me your
legs," he told me.  Nervously, I'd hiked up the hem of my skirt.  My
arousal was evident; but that wasn't why he was here.

"Turn round," young John told me, with lust in his voice.  I did as I was
told, doing so slowly, as I drew the skirt higher still.  At last he could
see my nylon-clad buttocks, with a hole cutaway in a strategic area, for
ease of access.

"Nice," he murmured in a soft-voice, raking another hit off the joint.  I
was looking down at my toes, as I pulled my buttocks apart, so he could see
where I wanted him: as blatant as that.

Then as I used a few fingers to pull the panties gusset to one side, I
easily slid two-fingers into my well-lubed hole. I eased the fingers in and
out gently, till they were as deep as they could be. Then I pulled them out
slowly, leaving me wanting, more.  "Can I join you, for cuddles Sir?" I
enquired, as I looked over my left shoulder.  "Yes," he grinned.  I
straightened my shirt and smoothed my skirt back down over my full
buttocks, then turned to walk toward the bed.  I lay on his right on the
outside of the bed and as I cuddled up to him I drew my right nylon clad
leg over his right thigh. He felt tense and uneasy as I ran my right hand
over his firm chest and down his flat stomach, as I undid the zip on his
windcheater, then began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

"If you enjoy it Sir," I whispered in his ear once all the buttons were
undone and ran my hand across his taut belly.

"You can do me again, any way you want and dressed any way you want," I
added, as I ran my hand toward his belt buckle, , looking down at his
smooth bare flesh, so young, so lovely. Then my wandering hand moved
downward, to the clasp of his jeans, which I snapped open.


"I want to dress like this again for you and be you fuck-slut. If you like,
Sir," I said softly to him, as I slid my hand inside his jeans, delighted
to be with him.


I was hard, yet that was irrelevant. I was just cunt to him, a hole to
fill: and then and there, that's just what I wanted. His cock and my need
were all that was important.  That and the idea that he might call again:
to use me.

Yet despite all my attentions, John just lay there, watching the screen, as
a luscious Brazilian SheMale shook her long dark hair, just prior to
undressing in a hotel room.  Like him, I watched the scene unfold, as the
Latin lovely began to stroke a medium-sized, circumcised erection, staring
into the camera and thereby me, the viewer.

I looked quickly to my left. John was engrossed by what he saw; and his
hips rose almost unconsciously to my touch and it was apparent from his
breathing that he enjoyed the feel of my hand on him.  He was wearing white
boxers and he filled them well, my hand could attest to that. Yet, it was
that cockhead that fascinated me, it felt massive.

I rubbed John's length gently, slowly: and he groaned softly.

Would I be able to take him, I'd wondered.

Then John passed me the remainder of the joint and I inhaled deeply on it,
anxious and horny at the same time. Oh how I wanted him, to use me.

"Please Sir, play with my nipples..." I entreated, pressing up against his
young, toned body, aware that my needs weren't his, whilst being mindful of
his erection.

John was hard, he wanted a hole to fill: `after all, wasn't that why he was
here?'

"Please Sir, I whispered, desperate for his touch, "please play with
them. Make me feel really girlie and ready to be fucked."

I inhaled again, closing my eyes a little, as a mild euphoria swept through
me and then began to feel elated, as young John's left hand undid two of
the middle buttons on my shirt and slid inside.

I loved the feel of his smooth, small hand on my flesh: and I adored it, as
it moved upward, toward my right nipple, already aching for his touch.


Stubbing the roach into the ashtray, I squirmed with a long groan of
pleasure, as his palm grazed my erect nipple.

"You do want this, don't you?!" He queried: as I savoured his touch,
imagining the look on his face as he questioned me.

"Oh I do, Sir..." I sighed.

"And I get what I want?"

"Oh yes Sir," I assured him, eager for him to continue what he was doing.

He squeezed the flesh, between forefinger and thumb and I opened my eyes,
to see him smile, as I winced in pain.

`Would I do what he wanted?' Of course I would.

Shit, with what he was doing to my tit-flesh, I'd soon be feeling real
girlie and ready to beg for his cock.

"Thank you," I murmured against his neck, as he mauled and mistreated each
nipple, in turn.

Within a heartbeat, I groaned with pleasure and slipped my hand beneath the
elastic of his white jockey's, to take his warm fleshy tissue in hand.

I edged the elastic over the dome of his powerful, young erection, revealed
in the flesh, as it were.

Uncovering it fully, I began to caress him. Not that much longer than my
seven inches, like me john was circumcised, a little thicker than me, with
that dome-head that was much wider in real life than I'd first thought,
seeing that picture.

He pinched my right nipple hard, as I slowly pumped at his flesh.

The pain, my femme attire and his cock-in-hand: It couldn't get
better. Then it did.

He kissed me. John turned his face towards mine and actually kissed
me. Heaven.

My lips opened and I held him with my free hand, as his tongue entered me
and his nails bit into my nippleflesh. Ecstasy.

"What do you want now, Sir?" I asked eagerly, as he drew away from me a
little, still torturing my left nipple.

"Now?" He asked, snapping his nails together and blinding me momentarily
with the sheer pain of it, before he moved to the right nipple.

"Now Sir, anything, anything you want..." I murmured against his neck, as
he pinched hard into my tender flesh, before snapping his nails apart, as
he had earlier.

"Oh yes," I hissed, breathless.

"Onto the floor and over the bed. Is what I want..." he muttered, sliding
me of the bed and onto the floor and my backside.

"Get over the bed," he told me, with a smile, as he stood himself, his
hardon bobbing as he did so, already leaking pre-cum.

I knelt on the sheepskin rug on the floor, and then resting my upper body
over the bed I hiked up my skirt.

Gawd, I wanted him inside me. I was eager, very eager.

I looked back, over my left shoulder, as John knelt behind me.

Cupping my right buttock, John's fingers glided onto my flesh, where I'd
cut away the tights for that very purpose.

"You're ready to be fucked, aren't you?" John asked, as he slipped his
finger under the pants gusset and pressed it straight onto my anus.

"Yes!" I replied, wriggling my buttocks to feel the finger better,
encouraging him to enter me.

A fingertip teased my well-lubed pucker open; and as it eased into me, it
was joined by a second.

I'd groaned against him, as John opened me up; and the gusset of the pretty
panties was no obstacle.

Then, fully inserted, he began to move those fingers back and forth,
widening me further, as my muscles relaxed somewhat.

"I think you're ready for me, now..." John told me, slapping my left
buttock.

Slowly he pushed the head of his proud, young cock against my anus,
watching my face, smiling, as my sphincter opening to accept it. The lube
helped, but the fit was still intense and painful. I felt I was slowly
being split in two. When it was fully inside me, I groaned. But, that was
just the head.

Now he eased his length fully into me, until his belly rested against my
buttocks.

Momentarily, he stilled all motion, a look of intense concentration on his
face.  For a second I thought he was going to cum, then hands on my hips,
John began to pump his hips back and forth, his flesh in me. It was deep
and intense.

He started to thrust steadily and deeply, full-length penetrations, ending
with the thump of his pelvis hitting my buttocks, as I pressed back against
back against him.

He maintained the slow rhythm initially, as I revelled in him fucking me,
with my face pressed into the duvet. My whole being was focussed on John
stretching the ring and the sensation of that hard shaft sliding through
it, and the wonderful feeling of being full, as he possessed me a little
more with each thrust.

I could feel my anus being pulled in and out, as the speed increased, as
with each thrust John became more urgent, his breath heavy, as sweat
dripped onto my backside.

Soon his thighs were slapping on the back of mine, his ballsac swinging
against my buttocks.

John grabbed my shoulders and with each stroke deep inside me, he pulled
down on my shoulders, pulling my body to meet his thrusts.

"Oh yes," he exclaimed, as he pumped his length into me, harder and faster.

With each powerful stroke, I grunted in pleasure and pain, as his thick
cockhead stretched me. I had got what I wanted, his beautiful cock, inside.

I can sense that John is close to cumming, as he bangs hard, making my anus
sore as he hits sensitive spots inside, Yet, I'm becoming very excited by
the roughness of it, and the feeling that John doesn't care how I feel,
only interested in his own needs.

I'm his slut; his whore; his cunt, to use and abuse. I love it and want it
to last. but, it is apparent, by the tremor in his thighs, his grip
tightening on my buttock flesh and hips that he will cum very soon.

"Oh, yes. Fuck it, I'm going to fill you now," John began to suddenly grunt
and shout, as he begun to thrust without any hesitation.

As it was withdrawn, my anus was pulled with it, as it was thrust in, my
anus was forced back into him. Inside, I felt a great emptiness as the
prick was withdrawn, and then the beautiful sensation of overwhelming
submission as pushed back into me, refilling that space inside me.

John was gasping now, very close. Then he is there, thrusts deliberate and
deep.  I can could feel his spasms deep in my belly and in the shaft, which
my ass walls gripped so tightly.

I can almost imagine, that moment he exalts his cries, I am his woman being
filled with is seed.

Abruptly I cum myself and I flood my panties, with my own cum, at the
thought of it.

"Oh yes, I can think of several of my mates, who're desperate and want a
bit of ass, just like this ..." he says to me, caressing my buttock-flesh,
as he wilts and plops out of me.

I feel empty, without him inside me. I want more of his hard youthful cock,
filling me: and I listen, as he quietly dresses.

As I lay panting, I looked back to see John finish button his shirt, zip-up
his jeans and buckle-up his belt.  He looked distinctly thoughtful, I
mused.  "Yeah, that wasn't bad at all ..." He said finally.  "So, you'll be
back again?" I asked, hopefully.

The scene on the television was an attractive brunette on all fours on a
patio on a sunny day, sans bikini, a mouth full, cheeks parted, as another
pressed forward.

He turned from the moving image on the screen and back to me. I lay over my
bed, as he'd taken me: a submissive toy, `coz that's how I felt.

John was obviously thoughtful, while I felt shagged out, literally. I
seemed to contract after he'd pulled out. Now I relaxed those muscles, I'd
held since then: and I feel his cum leak from me and down my left
inner-thigh, into the edge of the nylon.

I listened to John talk, half to himself, with growing interest. I had
two-fingers knuckle-deep, but I wanted more.

"You could entertain one of `em, every Saturday..." Then he stopped,
watching me as I swirled cum coated fingers inside myself.

"Of course there'll be something in it, for you..." he told me, "but not
money, of course. My friends are always broke." He paused, deep in thought.
"I know, they'll give you a weed for your services..." He furthered, adding
to his ideas.

"An I'll want my nipples played with awhile, before they fuck me," I
suggested, getting, into the spirit of it myself.

"Yeah I guess, why not?" he retorted blithely; "After all, you'll sure as
hell be satisfying them."

It sounded enthralling.

I wanted to cum again, I was aching for it: and his words increased my
arousal.  "Though by the looks of things, a weeks going to be a long time
for you to wait for you, won't it?" John said to me, with a light smirk, as
he fastened up his windcheater jacket.

"You're leaving?" I whined in desperation. Oh-Gawd, I needed filling,
badly.  "Yes," he told me, watching as I drew my fingers out.  He continued
to watch, as I grouped together my fingertips, then eased them into anus,
stretching myself wide, to his gaze.

He liked that he saw and that was apparent. So, I was all the more upset
when young John said to me: "Have fun. And, be waiting for a phone-call at
about 12:00, or so..."

Realizing I couldn't stop him, I stopped fucking my cummy hole and made to
stand.

"Nah, slut..." John started, don't stop. I'll see myself out."

I got back onto my knees and pushed my steepled fingers back into as John
closed the bedroom door after himself, as he left the house.

Much as I was disappointed that John had left, I was eager to fuck myself
at the thought of being his whore, for his young friends.

`Would there me more to cum... ?'


tinafosteruk@gmail.com