Date: Wed, 20 May 2009 11:50:42 -0700 (PDT)
From: Beautiful Creamer <beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sissyboy Sanctuary  (gay adult-youth)

  Sissyboy Sanctuary
  By Beautiful Creamer


  One -- An Amazing Discovery

  Cameron Hotspunk was glad to be teaching again.  Though he had certainly
enjoyed his just-completed sabbatical year in Europe.

  Mr. Hotspunk was a skilled, affable, 36-year-old history teacher at
Moistboy Middle School.  Mr. Hotspunk's 6th-, 7th, and 8th-Grade, all-male
students were happy that Mr. Hotspunk was teaching again.  He was popular
for two reasons (or so he thought): he cared about the boys and he was a
very interesting teacher.

  The sabbatical year had enriched Mr. Hotspunk in all ways except his
finances.  It was time to start earning some money again.  And to educate
young, eager minds.

  Two weeks into Mr. Hotspunk's first semester back, the teacher was still
working on restoring his work ethic.  He had stayed after school and was
sitting at his desk, mentally struggling a bit while grading the
6th-Graders' essay question answers on that day's Medieval European history
quiz.

  A break to clear his head seemed in order.

  Perhaps it was Fate whispering in his ear, because that break changed
Mr. Hotspunk's life.  And others' lives.

  Mr. Hotspunk stretched and strode down the hall.  It appeared that his
fellow faculty members had all left the building, enjoying the good
weather.

  He almost didn't hear it.  It wasn't really loud.  But Mr. Hotspunk had
good ears.

  Whimpers.  Little grunts. Smaller gasps.  Then a short squeal.

  Coming from the second-floor supply room.

  Huh?

  In the horror movies, the busty teenager always investigates.  To her
violent demise.

  Mr. Hotspunk investigated.  There was no violence and no demise.

  But there was a big surprise.

  Mr. Hotspunk opened the supply room door.  Noiselessly.

  And saw something VERY interesting.  And just as shocking!

  Two boys, whom Mr. Hotspunk instantly recognized as his 6th-Graders --
Chase Lickwood and Jesse Gulper -- were naked!!

  Their clothes were on the floor and they were standing NAKED (!) and
face-to-face, in a deep embrace -- of both bodies and tongues.

  The gorgeous eleven-year-olds were kissing with deep tongue.  Running
their hands lovingly over each others' naked bodies.  And, apparently,
rubbing each others' erect cocks together as they kissed!

  They were so engaged that they didn't hear or notice the intruding
Mr. Hotspunk.  Who was standing in stunned silence.

  Mr. Hotspunk had arrived just in time for the "big finish."  The boys
were both "close to satisfaction" and then it slammed into them.

  Mr. Hotspunk watched in aroused horror as first Chase, then Jesse
squealed and as each boy pumped his boy's cream all over his lover's tummy.

  Mr. Hotspunk bit his lip to avoid crying out.  Until he could figure out
what to do.  But when he saw Jesse's scrunched-in-ecstatic-agony, yet still
pretty face during his shuddering orgasm, the man groaned.  Loudly.

  Jesse's eyes fluttered open.  And focused on Mr. Hotspunk.  The boy's
beautiful eyes got wide, then filled with tears.  Then he sputtered
out..."Oh no!  Chase...it's.  Oh no."

  Chase's eyes opened and he turned his head to face what he thought might
be an attacker.  Animal self-defense instincts at full alert.

  The fact that the threat was non-lethal was of little comfort to the
terrorized boys.

  They had been discovered.  Gay and naked!  Cocks spurting all over each
other, Kissing.

  Discovered by a teacher.  Who would surely tell everyone what gay little
faggots they were.  The school would probably take them right out to the
schoolyard, where they would be tied to posts and face a firing squad.
Probably.  At the very least, they would be sentenced to Gay Prison.  Maybe
for life. Their parents, despairing of lost grandchildren, would disown
them.

  They cried and sobbed.  In complete despair.  Life as they knew it was
over.

  Unless...

  Unless Mr. Hotspunk would show mercy.

  Chase asked for mercy first.  Though Mr. Hotspunk didn't hear him right
away because he was captivated by what he knew to be the most beautiful
sight he had ever seen.  Two naked, stunningly-beautiful boys were
"full-frontal" before him.  Their tiny, pinkly precious cocks were drooping
after their orgasms and drooling long strands of boy's cream.  Each boy's
belly was coated with a thick film of his lover's boyish juices.  Their
little ballbags hung saucily, twitching with each sob that racked the
frightened boys.  Mr. Hotspunk even stole a look at their nipples, which
were still orgasmically erect.

  It was all the man could do to contain a moan of lust.

  In all of his 14 years of teaching, Mr. Hotspunk had never touched a boy.
He had had flashes of desire now and then.  Who wouldn't when among such a
boyish beauty pageant each work day.  But had never acted on it.

  And he wasn't about to amend his policy.

  No way.

  What was Chase saying?  Oh.  "...couldn't help it, Mr. Hotspunk.  Jesse
and I are in love and the world doesn't understand.  We had no other place
to go.  Couldn't you please have mercy on us, Mr. Hotspunk?"  [sob]
[whimper]

  "Oh, please, Mr. Hotspunk.  We're not bad boys.  Please don't tell on
us," Jesse whined plaintively.

  The man noted that nowhere in their pleas for mercy, did either offer to
"never do that again."

  Maybe they were in love.  Truly in love.  Love is such a rare commodity
on our world.  Why would anyone try to squelch it?

  Mr. Hotspunk knew he was a soft touch when it came to the boys.  Letting
them get away with minor offenses that others reported routinely.  But this
was a big thing.  Maybe he should report them.

  The teacher thought about it and realized he didn't have the heart to
turn Chase and Jesse in.  An unpleasant thought flashed through his mind
just before he reported his decision to the boys: "No good deed goes
unpunished."  Would he be punished for his good deed?

  Quite the opposite.

  "Boys," he said, "getting naked on school property and spunking all over
each other is, I'm pretty sure, against school policy.  But I'm not going
to report you if you promise not to do such things on school property
again.  Is that a deal?"

  Chase and Jesse stopped bawling and looked at each other.  Mr. Hotspunk
was going to let them slide!  And he didn't say stop being gay with each
other.  Just don't do it on school property anymore.  Which was more than
fair.

  The boys' reaction startled Mr. Hotspunk. The little angels both flung
themselves forward and surrounded Mr. Hotspunk's torso with their arms and
bodies.  Thanking him with words and hugs.  As they smeared a great deal of
their boy's cream all over his clothing.

  Mr. Hotspunk felt the boys' sweet, naked bodies rubbing against him and
two things happened.  He came much closer to breaking his self-imposed
"don't touch the boys" rule than he had ever come.  And he got a ferocious
erection.  All 7.5, red-alert inches of it.

  Which the boys couldn't help but notice as they hugged him and smeared
him with their spermies.

  Grasping for some decorum, Mr. Hotspunk good-naturedly disengaged from
the boys, said, "Get dressed and go home, boys. I'll see you tomorrow" and
left the supply room.

  He went back to his classroom to deal with the spunky-clothes issue.
What to do?  Not much was feasible.

  Moments later, as he was considering the thorny issue of boy-spunk
removal, he saw the fully dressed Chase and Jesse walking past his
classroom, giving the man a sweet smile and a cute little wave as they
headed for the exit.

  Maybe the cum on the clothing was Mr. Hotspunk's "punishment" part of
that old adage.

  It was a warm day, but Mr. Hotspunk would have to wear his raincoat to go
home.  Or be arrested, or at least "tssk-tsked" for "sporting spunk" on his
clothing.  The man scooped up the as-yet ungraded papers, stuck them into
his briefcase, and left his room.

  By way of the supply room.  Where he opened the door and looked in.  Just
to relive the experience a bit.  Beautiful, sperm-covered, naked boys had
been in that room moments earlier.  And now there was nothing.

  Wait.

  There was something.

  On the floor.

  Could it be?

  Two pairs of very skimpy, cotton panties!  One baby-blue.  One white.
Were they?

  They were.  Soaked with cum.

  The boys had used their panties to clean themselves, then left them at
the "scene."

  For whom to find?

  The janitor?

  Mr. Hotspunk???

  What did that all mean?

  Mr. Hotspunk wondered about that as he held the still-warm treasures in
his hands.  Just holding a boy's, or two boys', spunky panties was a
naughty act as far as Mr. Hotspunk was concerned.  A wrong-minded act.
Sick, even.

  And yet, it was all very thrilling.  Cock-stiffening.

  The teacher held the white panties up to his nose and smelled them.  Then
the blue boypanties.  Mmmmm.  He was no connoisseur of such smells, but he
knew what sex smelled like.

  Mr. Hotspunk slipped the cummy prizes into his raincoat pocket and left
the building.

  Driving home, Mr. Hotspunk wondered if he had done the right thing with
the boys.

  He was sure that not punishing the boys was the right thing.  Now that he
had had some moments of reflection, he wondered if he should have at least
asked for some hot, wet kisses from them.  Or even [gasp] for one of them
to suck his cock in gratitude.

  A very improper thought.

  But it was just a thought.

  Which boy would he have picked to suck his cock?

  He pictured the naked Chase on his knees between the man's legs.  Sucking
his stiff, fat cock as naked, pretty Jesse sat on his teacher's lap and
kissed him with full tongue.

  Oh.  That was bad, bad, bad!

  He needed to let off some steam or...who knew what would happen?

  Maybe he should stop at the supermarket, get dinner and pick up a copy of
that filthy magazine he had been tempted to buy ever since he could
remember..."Sissy Boy."

  People who read Sissy Boy were pervs.  Mr. Hotspunk knew that.  All eight
million of them each bi-weekly issue.

  He knew that HE wasn't a perv for buying the latest issue of Sissy Boy.
He just needed to explore his feelings about "things."  Get some additional
"background."

  At the supermarket, Mr. Hotspunk was careful to buy his copy stealthily.
Using the self-checkout line.  It wouldn't do to have one of the school
parents see the history teacher buying underage, gay smut.

  He managed to get the magazine and panties home.  Where he could give
them the full attention they deserved.

  Full attention.

  After getting that hot raincoat off.  And all the rest of his hot
clothes.

  Mr. Hotspunk lay on his back on his bed.  The boys' spunky panties to his
left; Sissy Boy magazine to his right.  His mind racing with wild surmise.

  He picked up the magazine and examined the cover.  "Making the Grade"
issue, the headline proclaimed.  Subhead: "Boys and their teachers."

  Fate was almost talking to Mr. Hotspunk directly.

  The cover picture was a scorcher.  Two delicious boys, close to Chase and
Jesse's age, and every bit as naked as Chase and Jesse in the supply room.
A handsome, naked, big-cocked mid-thirties man, who was supposed to be the
boys' teacher.

  The three were posed exactly as Mr. Hotspunk had fantasized earlier.  One
boy, a blond like Jesse, was sitting on the man's naked left thigh.  He was
kissing the man with deep tongue as the man skinned the boy's cock.
Meanwhile, the other boy, a brunet like Chase, was avidly sucking the man's
stiff, skinned, nearly-purple cockhead.

  Mr. Hotspunk groaned.

  He put the book down and retrieved a bottle of baby oil from his
nightstand.  Every man pretty much has something like that handy.  Then he
quickly slathered his stiffie with the slippery stuff.

  Bottle down, magazine up...and open.

  The picture story's plot was thin.  But who cared?  The boys had
apparently decided to "waste" the time when they should be studying for a
test by sucking each other's cocks to several messy, well-photographed
climaxes.  When the boys failed the test, they decided to make their
teacher an excellent offer...all he could eat sex for two undeserved A
grades.

  Their teacher accepted.  In graphic, startlingly spunky, photographic
detail.

  Poor Mr. Hotspunk.  He wanked and spunked so many times that night that
he never did have dinner.

  Even worse, he spunked the first time while the blue panties were over
his nose.  The second time while the white panties were in his mouth.  In
subsequent spunkings, he mixed his sperm with the boys' spunk that was
imbedded in their panties.

  When he fell into an exhausted sleep, he was ashamed and guilty.  But
knew that something about him had changed fundamentally.  He could ignore
his students' budding sexuality no longer.


  Two -- Linking history and the present

  Mr. Hotspunk awoke with a start at 6:30.  His midsection was caked with
dried cum.  Two pairs of cock-ravaged. Stuck-together panties lay to his
left.  A half-empty bottle of baby oil and a spunk-stained copy of Sissy
Boy lay to his right.

  The man was disgusted with himself.  Humiliated at his weakness and
depravity.

  He made a full and eternal promise to himself that he would NEVER
entertain such wicked fantasies again.  That day, he was going to ask the
school secretary, Miss Bigchest, for a date.  If they got along well, he
was going to marry her -- perhaps at Christmas time, which was in three
months.

  No more boys.  Or ideas about boys.

  Just a straight, normal life.

  And that solid, fully-baked plan almost succeeded.  Until he looked out
at the 7th-Grade boys in his first period class.

  So many of them were so beautiful.  And, unless he was totally misreading
"signals," so sex-needy.

  The teacher wavered on his lifelong commitment to Miss Bigchest.

  It was all very disturbing.  And got much worse during 4th period, the
class with Chase and Jesse.

  Must...stay...strong.

  Mr. Hotspunk avoided eye contact with the boys completely.  Focusing on
his lesson, which was about medieval European church practices.  He
included anecdotes about his sabbatical in Europe the past year.  A good
class, well-received by the boys.

  When the bell rang and the boys began to file out, Mr. Hotspunk
congratulated himself on getting through things as well as he did.  Maybe
he would be able to woo and win Miss Bigchest.  And wed her by Halloween.

  But then...

  "That was a great class, Mr. Hotspunk," the man heard Chase say.  He
looked up from his desk and saw Chase and Jesse smiling at him.

  Mr. Hotspunk cleared his throat.  "Thank you, Chase.  Don't you boys have
to get to your next class now?"

  "We have lunch now, Mr. Hotspunk," Jesse said.

  My goodness, they're beautiful, the man thought, in spite of himself.  He
found himself wondering whose panties had been blue and whose were white.
And what color panties they were wearing that day?

  Chase went on: "Jesse and I liked what you said about persecuted people
being able to find `sanctuary' in churches back in medieval times.  They
couldn't be arrested and all.  And that got us thinking."

  Mr. Hotspunk didn't like where this was going.

  Jesse said, "Yeah.  Chase and I are `persecuted' too in a way.  We're in
love, but the world doesn't want us to be.  We're too young to have our own
place or rent a motel room.  We can't even drive to lover's lane or
anything.  We need sanctuary."

  Mr. Hotspunk REALLY didn't like where this was going.

  Chase's smile would melt steel.  "Could you give us sanctuary,
Mr. Hotspunk?  In your house?  Sometimes...once in a while...after school?"

  Mr. Hotspunk began to feel his upper lip sweat coldly.

  Jesse said, "It would be all about real justice, just like you've taught
us about the good people who defended people's rights throughout history."

  "Would you give us sanctuary, Mr. Hotspunk?" Chase asked.  "Please.  We
would be totally grateful!"

  Those last five words stabbed Mr. Hotspunk's groin.  Two hot sissyboys in
his house after school.  Making love to each other.  Naked.  Being "totally
grateful" to him.

  Every wisp of logic in his body screamed and pounded on his chest to say
no.

  But all the blood that should have been feeding his brain had rushed to
his painfully stiff penis.  His cock was calling the shots on this one.

  "123 Maple Street.  I'll be home by four.  Use the back door."

  The boys squealed happily and hugged Mr. Hotspunk gratefully.  A display
that was, thankfully, neither seen nor heard by others.

  The boys left and Mr. Hotspunk sat in his teacher's chair asking himself,
"What have I done?"


  Three -- After-school with the sissyboys

  What had he done indeed?

  All afternoon, the weight of his peniley-induced folly weighed on
Mr. Hotspunk's chest.

  It was insane to harbor two beautiful, naked boys in his house!  Giving
them "sanctuary" to commit all manner of gayness.

  Even if he didn't touch them, he was aiding and abetting their
spunk-filled perversions.  And his own.  Who would believe that he had
merely granted two sissyboys a "love nest?"  Without "getting involved" in
thoroughly moist ways?

  Still...

  Two hot boys...  Hot not only for each other, but possibly for their
teacher...  Doing the kinds of "things" that the paragon of literature,
"Sissy Boy" magazine, had featured in its current issue.

  Between panic attacks, Mr. Hotspunk groaned with lust.

  He arrived home at 3:45.  With just enough time to stow away the illicit,
cum-seared panties, the baby oil and the cummy sheets from the previous
night's serial perversions.  Then remake his bed.  And draw all the shades.

  Just in time.  Because at precisely four p.m., there was a knock at
Mr. Hotspunk's back door.

  He took a deep breath, then opened the door to Chase and Jesse.  Looking
illegally cute.  In tiny tshirts, mini-shorts, and sandals that showed off
their angelic feet and toes.  They were each wearing a baseball cap and
carrying a baseball glove.

  "Hi, Mr. Hotspunk," Chase said.  "We told our moms we're playing ball and
won't be home unto supper at 6:30."

  No one going to play baseball ever looked cuter.

  Mr. Hotspunk hustled the boys inside, lest they be seen by nosy
neighbors.  He closed the door and quickly led them upstairs to his spare
bedroom.

  Keeping them away from all windows just in case neighbors had those X-ray
specs.  To thhe fully-shaded spare room he had prepared for them.  It had a
single bed, but that didn't matter to the boys.  They were going to have
true privacy for the first time since they had begun their torrid little
love affair.

  Chase looked at Jesse.  Jesse looked at Chase.  Tears filled four
beautiful eyes.  They looked at Mr. Hotspunk, then hugged him in grateful
ardor.

  They weren't making it easy for Mr. Hotspunk to act merely as the
sanctuary granter, not a participant.  Hugging those boys was the basic
cure for anyone's erectile dysfunction.

  Jesse broke the embrace first, then Chase.  They both looked at their
beneficent teacher with pure love and admiration.  Then Jesse, in his
blondness, did something that surprised all three of them.  He reached up,
stood on his tiptoes, and kissed Mr. Hotspunk.  Right on the lips.

  "Thank you, Mr. Hotspunk," he said, when he broke the delicious,
ten-second smooch.  "We'll never forget this."

  Mr. Hotspunk trembled in shock at how much he adored that kiss.  Then
"endured" a second surprise when Chase laid a lovely 15-second smoochie on
him.  With just a hint of tongue.

  Oh dear.

  Time to end that stuff.  Mr. Hotspunk said, "If there's anything you
need, I'll be in my bedroom next door.  Enjoy yourselves."

  Then he left the boys to their pleasure.

  Semi-reluctantly.

  Would they have included Mr. Hotspunk in their debauchery, had he
insinuated himself?

  What do you think?

  Mr. Hotspunk wasn't sure.  But he was taking no chances.

  He went to his room and began grading papers.  Or trying to.  He heard
what sounded like little whimpers and squeals of pleasure as the boys
undressed and began their "deep kissing exercises."

  Ten minutes of that.  Torture.  Then...a knock on his bedroom door.

  "Come in," the man choked out.  What was this?

  It was Chase.  Wearing only the skimpiest pair of pink panties
Mr. Hotspunk had ever seen.  The boy's cock was fiercely erect, tenting the
panties obscenely.

  "I'm sorry to bother you," the young beauty said, "but do you have any
lubricant?  We forgot to bring some."

  Oh dear, again.

  Mr. Hotspunk was a bit embarrassed to produce the half-empty bottle of
baby oil from his nightstand, but he gave it to Chase.  Who gave his
teacher another one of those "grateful kisses."  Followed by a very teasy
exit, punctuated by a little wave and a good look at the boy's
barely-panty-covered, pink bottom.

  Those papers were doomed to be ungraded. Though Mr. Hotspunk pretended to
grade them, should he be visited yet again.

  But no visits appeared to be forthcoming.  For 30 long, agonizing,
squeal-and-scream-and-whimper-and-moan-filled minutes. Then silence. For
five minutes.

  Hmmmm.  Were they asleep?  In a coma?  He may have heard them whispering
to each other, but could have been imagining it.

  Then, a knock on his door.

  The first time Mr. Hotspunk tried to say, "Come in," nothing happened.
The second time, he succeeded.

  The door opened and there they were.  Chase and Jesse.  Naked as the day
they were born.  Except they weren't born with boy's cream coating their
pretty faces.

  What?????

  "We talked about it, Mr. Hotspunk, and decided," Jesse said.

  "Decided what, boys?" Mr. Hotspunk somehow managed to say.

  Chase said, "We decided that if you're going to take a huge risk, you
deserve a huge reward.  It's only fair."

  Mr. Hotspunk gasped.  Audibly.  Which made the boys' "frosted faces" grin
broadly.

  "What reward would that be?" he asked.

  Jesse said, "We want you to fuck us.  We lube up our fingers and stick
them in each other's bottoms, but we know that's not as good as a big cock
`back there.' We've always wanted a man to fuck us.  And no man was ever as
nice to us as you.  We also decided we never met a hunkier man than you."

  "I agree," Chase said.  "You're our dream man.  And we want you to take
our real virginities.  Jesse fucks me sometimes, but his little peeny isn't
big enough to really rub my prostate.  You're the best man in the whole
world and we want you to fuck us.
Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssssseeeeeeeee!!!!"

  Some days it just pays to get out of bed in the morning.

  Mr. Hotspunk gulped.  No need to think that one over.  It was a
no-brainer because his brain was never involved in the decision-making
process.

  Rather than risk speaking again, Mr. Hotspunk stood and stripped off all
his clothes.  Much to the boys' delight and even a round of limp-wristed
applause.

  Then he lay on his back on his king-sized bed and invited the two naked
dollbabies to join him.  An invitation they eagerly accepted.

  Chase on his right.  Jesse on his left.  Each with a hand measuring and
stroking Mr. Hotspunk's thick cock.  As the man took turns tongue-kissing
his new lovers.

  Kissing each boy's gorgeous face, he licked each boy's lover's cum off,
swallowing it with unashamed delight.

  The world's luckiest man rubbed each hand along a pair of perfect
bottomcheeks, feeling their nourishing warmth and the unspoken invitation
each posterior made to his manly cock.

  He was going to have to fuck one of them soon or lose his
first-and-creamiest load to the ten delicate fingers caressing his stately
pole.

  Who would it be?

  Chase broke his deep kiss with his dream man and said, "You can kiss
Jesse while I get him ready for you, Mr. Hotspunk.  I'll just lubricate and
dilate him with my fingers and that baby oil.  Is that OK?"

  It was quite more than OK.

  Jesse thought so too.  Grunting and whimpering as Mr. Hotspunk kissed him
and his lover Chase "buttered" his bottom.

  Chase communicated that suitable preparations had been completed.
Sissyboy buttfucking could commence.

  But how?

  The first time, it doesn't pay to get fancy.

  Mr. Hotspunk had the boy lie on his stomach, with his bottom elevated by
four pillows.

  The perfect target faced the ultra-randy, ultra-rampant man.

  Pink and wrinkled.  Opened as much as could be expected for an
11-year-old's first real fuck.

  Chase said, "Go ahead, Mr. Hotspunk.  I can wait my turn.  As long as you
promise to `eat me out' to get me ready."

  At that point, Mr. Hotspunk would have agreed that he had killed Kennedy
and Archduke Ferdinand.  Whatever an "archduke" was.

  Mr. Hotspunk knelt, slid up behind Jesse, leaned over and, despite the
presence of much baby oil, he gave the boy's anus a nice kiss, then lick.

  Which put poor Jesse a hair's length away from draining his pretty
testicles.

  When Mr. Hotspunk rubbed the "wrinkly" with his peelips, that did young
Jesse in.  He began a heaving orgasm, which allowed the man to penetrate
the boy at the exact moment when he would be most distracted from the
inevitable pain of initial insertion.

  It almost worked.

  Distracted with orgasm though he was, Jesse gave full-throated expression
to his feelings when Mr. Hotspunk slid ten pounds of meat into a one-pound
bag.

  Which scared the observing Chase so mush that he considered either
celibacy or heterosexuality.  Both impulses gratefully passed when he heard
and observed Jesse settling into a fuck for the ages.

  Mr. Hotspunk allowed time for the boy's bowels to adjust to the rude
intruder.  When they did, he rubbed back and forth.  Slowly at first.
Clipping Jesse's prostate exquisitely with each pass.  Making the boy cry
out -- with pleasure that time.  Feeling the man's cock fill him and thrill
him.  Rubbing his "boy's place" in a way unlike and unequalled by anything
in his experience.

  So intimate.  So erotic.  So passionate.  So agonizing.  So good.

  Youthful passions won the non-race and the boy orgasmed first.  Though,
as Jesse experienced his first real prostate orgasm, he noted three
differences from his usual spunk-ups.

  First, there was the intensity of his orgasm.  All his boyish orgasms
were intense, but that one blew the top of his head off.

  Then there was the delay.  When he felt himself falling into ecstasy, he
was used to an immediate, semi-violent emission of spunk.  Not with that
fuck.  Something seemed to be blocking it.  It was Mr. Hotspunk's cock!
The spunk wouldn't come out and he would implode!  Panic!!! Then relief.
If you can call disassembling your guts then loosely stitching them
together "relief."  Or getting hit with a freight train "relief."

  At least Jesse wouldn't "implode."

  The third difference was in the amount of sperm expended.  Not much.
Just a small, weak, watery, but exceedingly thrilling drool emerged from
his cocktip.

  Was that because he had already spunked twice earlier.  Or because it was
an anal orgasm?

  Jesse looked forward to further study of the issue.  After he made
Mr. Hotspunk cum so his friend and lover Chase could "get his."

  Jesse couldn't wait to compare notes on anal orgasms later with Chase.

  But business first.

  "Oh, Mr. Hotspunk, he groaned.  "You're so manly!  You're the best lover
in the world.  I feel totally dominated and I'm totally in love with you.
Please cum in my bottom and make me yours forever.  Please!"

  Verbal masturbation is often the little extra a man needs to "deliver the
goods."  Jesse's words did the deed that time.

  Mr. Hotspunk spunked his guts out into Jesse's boiling bottomhole!

  Six, thick gloppy gobs of his finest.

  Hands down, it was the best orgasm of his life.

  So good that he strongly considered a nap.  Until he looked over at
Chase.  Politely waiting his turn.  Skinning his cock and exposing the pink
perfection of its head.  He was so beautiful and needed to be fucked so
badly.  Mr. Hotspunk couldn't let him down!

  When Jesse's bottom involuntarily rejected Mr. Hotspunk's half-limp cock,
the man fell onto his back.  And the boys went to work.

  Jesse began the critical "Cock CPR," licking and sucking the sexy/nasty
mixture of sperm, semen and boyish anal juices from the man's cockhead and
shaft.  Tonguing under Mr. Hotspunk's foreskin to get all the spicy bits.

  Chase made Mr. Hotspunk deliver on his promise, straddling the man's
shoulders and literally sitting on his teacher's face.

  To which Mr. Hotspunk offered no objection.  What he did offer was a
tongue, which, unlike his cock, was still hard.

  The man licked and kissed and tongued and "muff-dove" into the boyish
pootie.  Making sweet Chase spurt several ropes of boy's cream all over
Mr. Hotspunk's hairy chest.

  The thought of which, along with Jesse's outstanding cockwork, brought
the stately manpole to a full, glorious stand.

  This time, Chase chose the position.  Preferring to control his own
initial impalement.  Semi-reluctantly, he slid his bottom off his
loverman's face, then repositioned himself astride Mr. Hotspunk's hips,
facing the man's head.

  As Mr. Hotspunk and Jesse watched in admiration, the brave boy sat on the
man's fat cock.  Steadily.  Ignoring the pain.  Focusing on the pleasure he
knew was soon to be.

  Within two spiky minutes and 43 stinging seconds, Chase Lickwood was
sitting on a man's fully inflated cock.  To the very hairs!

  Jesse's eyes were wide with wonder.

  Chase's eyes were wide with pain and tears.  Both of which passed.

  Leaning forward, he kissed his impaler's mouth.  Regaining control,
Mr. Hotspunk rolled onto his left side, Chase's right.  Keeping his cock in
its fabulous new home.

  A delicious fuck followed.  Longer than Jesse's, since the second one
doesn't "crest" as quickly.  But with similar results.

  Viciously intense pleasure for the boy, accompanied by a watery dribble
from a half-stiff boycock.

  A groaning, back-arching testicular purge from the adoring man.  Who
wondered why he was being rewarded so lavishly by Fate.

  No matter the reason.

  Mr. Hotspunk's good times were just beginning.


  I welcome your comments at beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com.

  Other stories on nifty:

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