Date: Sat, 13 Nov 2021 16:54:48 +0000 From: Beau Kramer Subject: Sissyboy Scenes 29 (gay, adult-youth) Sissyboy Scenes 29 (gay, adult-youth) By Beautiful Creamer I don't do this stuff and you shouldn't either. What you should do is get vaccinated and donate to nifty.org. Each posting of "Sissyboy Scenes" is a complete story, unrelated to the others in the series. Do the Math (Teacher) One -- Special delivery On Friday afternoons, minutes after their little savages have been dismissed for the weekend, most middle-school teachers race to the exits. Not Paul Spunkslinger. He was a dedicated educator who loved teaching fifth-grade mathematics to his ten- and eleven-year-old students. He loved his students. Especially one Brandon Lovely. His best student. And his prettiest. Paul was befuddled by his feelings for Brandon. Paul did not think of himself as gay. He was not attracted at all to men or other boys. Just Brandon. Brandon. The prettiest human being on the planet at that moment, Paul believed. He was lovelier than his surname. Slim, but with an exceptionally large posterior that was not fatty. Just big. Long, pink legs that Brandon kept under his desk. Paul could see clearly those long beauties as he looked out into the class. Was Brandon saying something to his teacher when he wore the shortest of short shorts? It certainly gave Paul fuel for his fantasies. Even though Paul was almost positive that Brandon wasn't prickteasing his teacher. One day recently, Brandon must have forgotten his underwear, because the tip of his penis, just the hooded tip, was peeking from beneath his shorts leg. Paul felt bad for Brandon that day, since the boy must have been embarrassed. Paul sighed. Brandon! Oh, the spunk Paul had spent dreaming of Brandon. That Friday afternoon, Paul had to force himself to grade papers, a task he wanted done so he would have the weekend clear. To think about Brandon. At 5::47, Paul was packing up his things to go home when he took one more look at Brandon's desk and chair. Wait! Was that? It was. Brandon had left his math textbook. That wouldn't do, since Paul had assigned the class homework for the weekend and Brandon wouldn't be able to do it. Should he be a good person and deliver it to Brandon's home? Getting one more whiff of Brandon before Monday? Would Brandon be grateful? How grateful? Paul decided that he wanted to find out. Two -- Brandon in his natural habitat Paul was apprehensive, of course as he approached the door of Brandon's upscale apartment. He considered the worst-case scenario first. Brandon and his parents would figure Paul for either an unwelcome intruder into their family time. Or a perv. Making Brandon even less likely to do those things Paul imagined when he was pulling his penis. As if any of that was possible anyway. The best-case scenario wasn't that much better. Maybe Brandon would answer the door, thank Paul, give Paul a two-masturbation smile, then close the door. Total time: 35 seconds. Reality, for once in someone's life, was considerably better. Paul knocked. Heard the tap-tap of high heels, and watched the door open. To the most stunning and sex-dripping woman he had ever seen! The woman apparently was used to the startled look that Paul gave her and waited politely for him to reroute his brain away from his penis. Paul stammered out his name, rank and serial number, as well as his mission. He was ready to leave when the stunning woman said, "Oh, Mr. Spunkslinger, thank you so much for thinking of and helping my Brandon. He talks about you all the time. You're his favorite." He was? Brandon said that? Paul could die happy now. As they say in the infomercials, "But wait. There's more." "Please come in. I'll go get Brandon, so he can thank you. He would be so upset if he missed you." He would? Paul staggered to a seat on a living-room loveseat. And considered himself already having the best Friday night in his life. It got better. As Paul watched Mrs. Lovely's ass wiggle toward wherever Brandon was, he was puzzled over why she was at home, with her son, dressed in stockings, heels, a micro-miniskirt, and a blouse that showed way too much cleavage. As if she wanted to get laid. No sign of a Daddy around for Brandon. Hmmm. Mrs. Lovely knocked on Brandon's bedroom door, then entered. The young beauty was lying on his back, on his bed, wearing the wispiest of pink panties. The pretty boy was reading a nifty story on his ipad. Dreaming of the day he would have his exquisite bottom stuffed with cock. Perhaps that day had arrived. "Thank your Mommy," Mrs. Lovely said. "Why, Mommy?" "That little left-behind-book trick I suggested worked. Your dream man is in the living room. His heart pounding and his cock stiff. Waiting for his dream boy." Brandon jumped from the bed and hugged his mother. "Oh, Mommy. That's awesome! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Wait. Can you stall him for ten minutes? I need to do some things to make sure I get what I want and need tonight." "Of course, Honey. This is your night. Enjoy every second of it." Mrs. Lovely rejoined Paul and discussed teaching, local politics and the weather until Brandon made the entrance of the century. She had cautioned Paul that Brandon had just taken his bath and would be dressed for bed. Paul shivered at the thought of seeing Brandon in his Star Wars jammies. The room illuminated when Brandon appeared. It was a good thing that Paul was 27 and in great health. Otherwise, cardiac arrest was a strong possibility. Star Wars jammies were nowhere to be seen. Brandon was wearing a sheer, black, knee-length peignoir; sheer, black stockings with matching garter belt; and pink, two-inch-heeled, bedroom slippers. Brandon's most private things could be viewed through the sheer material. "Oh, Mr. Spunkslinger, thank you so much for bringing my book. I was so worried that I wouldn't be able to do the homework you gave us. I don't like to disappoint you." And with that, he moved in and gave Paul a small kiss on his cheek. Paul gasped. Brandon smiled with satisfaction. "Oh," Brandon said. "I'm sorry that you had to see me the way I dress at home. Did I disturb you?" Paul fell over himself with denials. Then said, "You look beautiful. You always look beautiful." Paul bit his lip. Was that too much? Apparently not. "Thank you, Mr. Spunkslinger. But that's not true. I like to dress pretty when I'm home. I hate wearing those clothes we have to wear at school. I feel so ugly in them." "Oh no, Brandon. You look beautiful at school. The most beautiful boy in the school. The world even. You would look beautiful with no clothes." Oops. That was too far. Paul knew he would be getting hustled out the door in seconds. No more flirty smiles from Brandon at school. Life over. Wrong again. Brandon actually blushed and said, "You're so sweet. And so beautiful too. In a manly way. Would you really like to see how I look with no clothes? I'm just a ten-years-and-four-months-old boy. I see you more with someone like my Mommy." Paul gulped. This was going WAY better than he had imagined. But he had to tread carefully. "Your mother is gorgeous, but you're even prettier." Another genuine blush. This was going WAY better than Brandon had imagined. Brandon raised the stakes by sitting next to Paul on the loveseat. Close. Very close. "Do you like my lingerie, Mr. Spunkslinger? I have a lot of it. Mommy bought most of it. And some of Mommy's `very good friends' bought me some too." "I like it very much, Honey." OMG! Had Paul just called Brandon "Honey?" Too far? Nowhere near it. Brandon cuddled up to Paul and said, "You're awesome, Mr. Spunkslinger. Just like I knew you would be. Let me show you something." With that, Brandon stood and ambled over to the nearby coffee table. The boy bent over at the waist. His peignoir had risen to his waist and his bare ass was facing Paul as he rummaged through the magazines looking for something. Giving Paul a full view of the glory that was Brandon's broad, delicious butt. It was all Paul could do to restrain himself from leaping off the loveseat and thrusting his tongue into Brandon's tantalizing anus. Brandon was taking his time. "Showing the merchandise." Until... "Here it is." Brandon grabbed a magazine and sat back down with Paul. What was the magazine? Oh! "Mommy buys me this wonderful magazine every month. It has all the lingerie styles for boys like me." Paul got another jolt to his brain. And his penis. It was "Sissy Boy Lingerie," Biff Buggerall's "Sissy Boy" magazine spinoff that does, in fact, show boys Brandon's age wearing a variety of cock-draining lingerie. But it also shows those boys draining cocks! Brandon flipped the pages for Paul. Pointing out his views on what the cum-covered boys were wearing. Ignoring the herd of elephants stampeding through the room. Paul decided that either he was in the middle of the biggest pricktease in world history, or his cock was going to be up Brandon's butt in short order. "If I had known you liked lingerie, I would have shopped with you to buy whatever you like," Paul said. Brandon smiled warmly. "I know you would, Mr. Spunkslinger. You're an amazing man. My favorite man. I should have told you. Then we wouldn't have wasted a month." Paul was baffled by that and asked. "I was ten years and three months 32 days ago, Mr. Spunkslinger." No glimmer of understanding from Paul. Brandon: "The Twenty-Ninth Amendment to the Constitution? Boys aged ten and three months can consent to, you know." It would take a platoon of longshoremen to unpack the meaning of that awesome exchange of words. Brandon was saying that he regretted not getting with Paul a month ago, when they could have had consensual sex. And STRONGLY implied that he wanted consensual sex with Paul in the exceptionally near future. Paul took deep breaths for a moment and gave thanks that he was born a man. "Is it OK if I kiss you, Mr. Spunkslinger?" Paul answered by holding Brandon tenderly in his arms and kissing him lips to lips. Nirvana! Nirvana Prime when Brandon opened his mouth and Paul's tongue slipped in. Brandon was the first to lay hand on cock. Freeing the large boypleaser from its surly bonds and awaiting the ten microseconds that Mr. Spunkslinger would respond with strokes on Brandon's pink jewel. Not just yet. Mrs. Lovely reappeared. Disturbing a beautiful moment by saying, "Well, I'm happy to see that you two are getting along so well. I have a big favor to ask, Mr. Spunkslinger. I have a date tonight and my babysitter cancelled. Would you be able to keep an eye on Brandon while I'm gone?" And the hits just keep on coming. "Of course, Mrs. Lovely. Brandon and I could go over some math assignments. Or something." "Oh, thank you, Mr. Spunkslinger. And don't worry about math tonight. You and Brandon should concentrate on the `or something.' And don't define `or something' too narrowly. My Brandon wants lots of different somethings from you." Ohmygosh! Mrs. Lovely was going to leave Paul and Brandon alone for five or six hours? Until midnight? [Gasp!] "Good night, Sweetheart. And to you too, Mr. Spunkslinger. I should be home by noon tomorrow. But you can certainly stay the weekend if you like. Brandon would like that." And she was gone! Twelve hours alone with Brandon!!!!! Maybe 36 or 48 hours with Brandon!!!! Where was a paper bag when you needed to hyperventilate? Paul gathered himself. Brandon needed a MAN now. Not just somebody being frightened at his unexpected success. Paul became the MAN. And stayed the MAN. "It's time I ease your pain so I can start to love you properly, my sweet angel. Stand up on those sexy heels and face me. That's it." Brandon whimpered. Sensing that control had shifted to Mr. Spunkslinger. Just as Brandon wanted. The young beauty undid the belt on his peignoir. Leaving the naughty piece of lingerie perched on his shoulder. Barely still on. Exposing his glorious nipples and astonishingly magnificent and painfully stiff manpleaser. Paul's mouth watered. But only for a moment, as he put that excess saliva to best use. Licking from his young lover's pink purse, all along his five-inch delight center until he reached the new headquarters of Paul's universe -- Brandon's red prick knob. Brandon shivered with delight. And moaned out his appreciation. The pleasure was so intense, it was almost painful. For both lovers. Two minutes and three seconds later, Brandon was sobbing with frantic lust as he screamed out his love for his teacher. Deluging Paul's mouth with virgin sperm. For Paul, it was nourishment at last. The essence of Love. Testicular elixir passed from one lover to another. Feeding Paul's mind and body. He swallowed every drop. Savoring it. Taking care to ensure that no molecules of sperm had hidden under Brandon's foreskin. Brandon collapsed toward Paul. Who caught the young lovely on his lap. Enfolding Brandon in his arms and pelting him with soft kisses. Oh dear, Brandon thought. What was that? It was a couple of billion times better than those times he had played with himself while reading those stories on nifty. Was such pleasure possible? Let us foreshadow here and say that Brandon ain't seen nothin' yet. As he melted into pleasure, it occurred to Brandon that Mr. Spunkslinger had not yet slung spunk. Well. Brandon had a solution for that. Reluctantly, the pretty boy left Paul's lap and migrated between the still-seated man's legs. Kneeling. Making eye contact as he pulled the man's trousers and boxers down and off. Staring with hot lust into Paul's eyes, Brandon began to "examine" his lover's private parts. A very respectable, well-above-average hunk of sissypleaser it was. With interesting veins up either side. And a sneaky foreskin that tried to hide Brandon's man's cock knob from the boy. Until the boy pulled the pesty skin back. Fully revealing the very part that was the epicenter of Brandon's dreams. Sweet drips were oozing from Paul's pouty peelips. Brandon tasted them with the tip of his delicious tongue. Paul grunted. Brandon swirled his tongue around the exposed area. All of it. Then just the underside. By the arrowpoint. Mercilessly. And then, Brandon the Merciless upped the ante. He entered Paul's bumhole with TWO fingers, one of which found Paul's prostate. Which was akin to striking gold. Brandon staked his claim and jumped all over it. Licking. Fingering. Erotic torture at its finest. Where had Brandon learned to attempt such techniques? Nifty.org stories, of course. An encyclopedia of eros. "Oh, my angel. That's so... Watch out. I'm going to... Oh..." And Paul gave Brandon his first mouthful of Love's Nectar. A big mouthful. Of which, Brandon could only swallow half. The rest drooled onto Brandon's chin. Giving him a cum beard. Then onto his chest and sweet nipples. The boy had never been prettier. A glance at a nearby mirror confirmed that for Brandon. He liked being a cum eater already. Grateful, cummy kisses and licks followed, until the boy's cum-covering had been replaced by Paul's saliva. It was time to get serious. Brandon stood, reached down and grabbed Paul's deflated penis. He gave it a playful tug. Paul got the idea and stood. Brandon led Paul by his cock into Brandon's bedroom. Paul's Holy of Holies. It was much as Paul had imagined it. Simple. The only unexpected items were 1) a queen-size bed instead of a typical twin bed for a boy, 2) posters of hunky, naked men with stiff, sometimes spurting cocks, and 3) lots of anal toys, vibrating, revolving and stick-on. Nice additions, eh? Brandon led Paul to the bed and asked him to sit. Then he shed his peignoir, leaving on the black garter belt, stockings and heels. "Please fuck me now, Mr. Spunkslinger! I need it so badly. I've dreamt about you forever and I want you inside me. Please eat my ass first. I cleaned it good for you. When you're done eating, your stiffie should be back. There's some Spermbutt Anal Lubricant that I use with my toys in the drawer." Now that's a paragraph we would all like to hear more often. Am I right? Anyway, Paul accepted the invitation. Brandon turned from Paul and presented his glorious ass to its defiler. Seated, Paul was exactly the right height to feast on Brandon's most hidden parts. But not until a pause for richly-deserved reverence. Brandon's ass was not only outsized in girth. It was outsized in beauty. A perfect playground for a man fortunate enough to pay it proper attention. Paul shuddered briefly, then parted the plump bumcheeks with his thumbs. Paul gasped. If there were a prettier sight on earth than Brandon's wrinkled, pink anus, no one has ever reported it. Paul praised Brandon's anal beauty, which made the boy wiggle just enough to effect a sexy, cheeky jiggle. Then Paul set about the most welcome task of his life. Complete and utter anal adoration. A tiny lick. Just the tip of the man's tongue on Brandon's anus. Brandon squealed. It was going really well thus far. Wanting to show the range of actions Paul could inflict on Brandon's unguarded anus area, Paul slid his face south, nuzzled in and took one of his Love's palpitating testicles into his ass-famished mouth. Giving it a nice, long, suck and lick. Brandon liked that too. I make that statement with complete confidence, since the boy cried out and spurted. A nice, creamy load. As Brandon was cumming, Paul gulped the boy's other ball into his wet mouth as well. It was going WAY better than either man or boy had fantasized about. Paul returned to his core mission. Rudely sticking HALF of his tongue into Brandon's asshole! HALF! Paul had Brandon's complete attention. Twenty minutes later, the boy was whimpering and begging to be fucked. Paul didn't spend more than a minute dilating the boy's pussy further with his Spermbutted fingers. Slapped a nice coat of the stuff known as "the sissyboy's friend" on his own outrageous cock. Brandon's time had come. As had Paul's. As a math teacher, Paul was qualified to address the geometric problem at hand. He wanted the proper fucking angle to get maximum cock doing maximum fuckage at maximum comfort. The different heights of the lovers complicated the dilemma. But an educator is a problem-solver. Calculating quickly, he lay on his back and had Brandon straddle his manly hips. "My cock is poised at the entrance to paradise, my love angel. Sit down on it at your own pace. Inch by delicious inch if you wish. When you're all in, I'll show you how we'll make fucking history." Brandon was a little scared. He was just a wisp of a boy. His mother wasn't there to protect him. A big, powerful man was in complete control of him. That stiff penis was so big. And his tiny hole was so unfucked. Thank goodness his lust overcame his fear. By a landslide. One millimeter at a time, gasping for air and courage with each passing centimeter, Brandon sat on his destiny. It took seven minutes and 43 seconds to get Brandon completely stuffed with Paul's thick cock. The brave little sodomite looked at his lover and smiled through his anxiety. What now? Paul showed him. The man pulled Brandon into a tongue-rich kiss, then rotated their bodies so that Brandon was on the bottom, fully impaled, and Paul was on top. Both were happier than they had ever been. Paul was home, truly home, for the first time. They kissed, as Paul allowed the boy to feel the affirming fullness of being completely stuffed with his man's aroused prick. Then Paul moved to more active measures. Pushing. Pulling. Reveling in each squeak and moan his cock drew from the sex-fired boy. Their lust grew exponentially with each heave into and out of Brandon's magnificent ass. Until the inevitable... "Oh, Daddy! I'm cumming!!!" Daddy? Did the most beautiful boy in the Milky Way Galaxy just call Paul "Daddy?" That was the clincher for Paul. The lovers achieved the rare simultaneous orgasm. First time out. Beginners' luck? They would need to fuck again. Just to find out. Three -- Follow-up fucking After their second love match, Paul proposed a nap. Before Brandon could agree, Paul was dozing. Brandon seized that opportunity to hit the refresh button. The boy slid out of his naked lover's arms and sissied to the en suite bathroom. Oh dear. What a mess. Cum, lots of "Daddy's" cum, was oozing from Brandon's asshole. And his own cum was splattered all over his stomach and chest. Brandon stripped to a fine nude and took his time using a warm washcloth to freshen up. Being an avid nifty reader, the boy knew that a 27-year-old senior citizen like Paul would need a lot more recovery time than Brandon needed. So unless he wanted to wait four or five hours for Paul to wake up, he would need to spark his man's arousal. He had a two-part solution. First, he slid on a sheer pair of pink, stay up stockings. Then a micro-mini wisp of a pink nightie. Second, he rejoined Paul in bed and began to kiss and lick his man's hairy asshole. Paul winced in his sleep. His eyes fluttered open and after a few moments of orientation he sorted out his situation. His lover was dressed in an even sexier way than before and the boy was licking Paul's asshole. His asshole! A far more reliable dick-stiffener than Viagra or its cousins. Three blissful minutes into re-invigoration activities, Paul reluctantly drew away. Three or four more anal licks and Paul would be unloading his cargo. He was sure of it. So Paul laid Brandon on his stomach and placed the boy -- chest on the mattress, knees supporting a view that Paul never wanted to stop seeing. The boy was still dilated enough from their last love bout. But Paul gave his lover a few licks "back there" to ensure easy entry. Entry proved easy. So did Paul and Brandon's frantic pleasures. That time, Paul was truly down for the count. At six a.m., Paul awoke to the sight of Brandon bobbing his pretty head up and down on Paul's morning woodie. So it hadn't been a dream. Though the sex that followed was dreamy. The lovers pried themselves from bed and shared a shower. There's something ultra-sexy about being in a shower with someone. Usually sperm is spilled. Theirs was a doubly usual shower. It was 8 o'clock. Time for breakfast. Paul confirmed his supposition that Brandon probably set the kitchen on fire each time he tried to make a peanut butter sandwich. So Paul would need to do the fire-free cooking. Faced with the prospect of Mrs. Lovely returning any time that morning, Paul was old-fashioned enough that he didn't want her catching the lovers eating bagels while naked. The only clothes he had were the ones he wore to the Lovelys. Brandon offered him a man's robe. "Mommy keeps stuff like that for her special friends when they `date' here in our apartment." At least that's what Paul thought Brandon said. Because Paul's attention was glued to Brandon's outfit of the day. Pink panties so brief they contained his boy's things in the front, but exposed 98.3 percent of the boy's splendid ass. A pink bow around his kissable neck. Pink, patent-leather, single-strap, Mary Jane shoes with white, frilly, turned-over sissy socks. Lots and lots of bare skin. Paul's cock was telling him to say, "Fuck breakfast," and fuck Brandon now. His stomach told him to eat before he passed out and couldn't fuck for a while. Oddly, the cock lost. Paul rustled up eggs, sausage, bagels, orange juice and coffee. Blessed coffee. Fucking eats up a lot of calories. Masturbation, not so much. They were just finishing up breakfast and thinking about future fornication when the door opened and Mrs. Lovely came in. For one irrational second, Paul forgot about Brandon having legal consent status, Mrs. Lovely giving all but spell-it-out consent, and what Brandon's attire implied. Prison! Only in the past. Brandon ran to his Mommy and hugged her. "Mommy! Mr. Spunkslinger and I had the best night! He fucked me three times, then twice this morning. And we sucked each other's pricks, Mommy. I spunked nine times. Cummimg is awesome." Mrs. Lovely, who looked like someone who had cum a few times over the past few hours herself was delighted. "I told you that you picked a good man to introduce you to sex. Thank you, Mr. Spunkslinger." Paul choked a little, then said, "Thank you, Mrs. Lovely. It was my pleasure. Brandon is an amazing boy." "I call him `Daddy' when we're fucking, Mommy. It makes him fuck me even harder. That's OK, isn't it, Mommy." "Of course, Honey. Your birth-Daddy was a no-good rat. And, as we discussed, anything that makes your man fuck you harder is a good thing. Did you try that little trick I taught you when his flag drooped? They all droop eventually." "Oh, yes, Mommy. I licked Daddy's bumhole and he came right back to life." Paul was astonished by the frankness. But he glowed at the good report he had received. "Were there any pain issues, Brandon?" "Just a little the first time, Mommy. Mr. Spunkslinger was so gentle with me. And ROUGH when I wanted it." "Hmmm," Mrs. Lovely said. "May I see for myself, Brandon? Mr. Spunkslinger?" Paul was unclear what she meant until... Mrs. Lovely tottered over to Paul on her five-inch heels, reached into Paul's robe and extracted his cock. Wow! Paul's cock was hanging limply at five inches. Mrs. Lovely rubbed it a bit, quite expertly, and rubbed her large tits against Paul as well. Nothing. "Well, I can see why there was no pain," she said, "which is a good thing. I guess. But..." "Mommy, you're doing it all wrong. Let me show you." The young beauty held Paul's cock, gave it five or six rubs, smiled at Paul, and the man's cock stood tall and hard at a majestic 8.24 inches. Mrs. Lovely was impressed. For several reasons. "Mr. Spunkslinger and his cock seem to know who they love, Brandon, and I'm delighted that it's you. It seems you have a proper manfriend. Also, he has a quite formidable cock which you seem to be consuming with ease. So you have a bright future of sodomistic joys ahead of you. It's a win, win, win and win some more." She continued. "I'm going to take a six-hour nap. After that, I'll be going on another date, now that I know my snookums' butt is being properly and lovingly stuffed. So A-plus, Mr. Spunkslinger! Oh wait. I'm presuming. Do you have to go home and let out the cat or water your plants? Or do you want to stay and continue your pet student's education?" Instead of answering, Paul took the nearly-naked boy by the penis and led him back to their bed of delight. Four -- An excursion There is no finer sound than the rustle of a sissyboy's panties as they flutter to the floor. Paul heard that in less than a microsecond after he and Brandon had re-entered the boy's room. The naked boy flung himself into Paul's arms, pelting him with kisses, saying, "Oh, Daddy. I love you so much. You stood up for me, literally stood up for me with Mommy!" Paul smiled and was proud of himself. But praise was only the beginning of the man's rewards. "Mommy always worried that some evil guy who only wanted Mommy's pussy and her money would seduce me to get to her. You proved to her, PROVED that you love me, only me! And did you hear her call you a `proper manfriend?' That was Mommy telling me two things, one, you are now a full member of our family and you can take me to `Lingerie Paradise.' Mommy's treat. I always wanted to go there, but Mommy said not until I was fucking the right man. Can we go, can we go? PLEASE??" Right. Paul hated shopping, but one doesn't turn down...yadda, yadda. Paul got an extra hug for that assent. Then Brandon said, "I am SO grateful to you and SO happy and SO in love with you. And do you know what grateful, happy, in love sissyboys do? Let me show you." And so Brandon did. At 4 p.m., Paul awoke. Vowing to add his local funeral director to his contacts. How could one boy drain so much sperm and semen from one man? Paul guessed that was what grateful, happy, in love sissyboys do. "Wasn't that fun, Daddy? I had fun too. I know you want to go to sleep for 12 hours or so, but could we just do one thing first?" Paul hoped it wasn't another fuck. He just couldn't... "I want to go to Lingerie Paradise. They're open until 9." Shopping. Ick. But wait. "Can you try things on and show them to me?" "Every lacy, revealing, seamed, tight, pink, teasy, ruffled thing." "I'm in." Brandon was blazingly happy as he and Paul showered together before going out. Against the laws of nature and the universe, Paul succumbed to Brandon's soapy hand and managed another chubby. Brandon claimed it as his own, turned around, bent over and directed Paul's cock into its new and splendid home. Paul worried that Brandon would want Paul to hurry up, wishing to rush to the store. Brandon acted as if it were his first fuck and he had all the time on the planet. They were dressed and ready to go by 5:15. If you can call what Brandon was wearing "dressed." The boy, thank goodness, wasn't going to wear just lingerie. And he had no girlish, outside clothes. But the sissy outfits Mommy bought for him all said, "I am an outrageously cock-hungry sissyboy." Paul winced a little, but remained supportive. "You look lovely, my angel." Brandon beamed. "So do you." Before she took her nap, Mrs. Lovely pulled Paul's keys from his pants pocket and arranged to bring over some of his clothes from his apartment. So Paul didn't have to wear a terrycloth robe to Lingerie Paradise. Brandon was wearing lavender, Mary Jane shoes with frilly, white socks; shorts one would need a microscope to see; and a lavender, belly-button-length tee with "Sissyboy" in white spangles. Brandon was not a believer in ambiguity. As Paul held the car door for his lover, watching those long, exquisite legs, he wondered if they could risk walking from the parking lot to the store at Lingerie Paradise. The boy oozed sex. And men would pick up the pheromones and attack! He overthought all that. But not by much. Paul hustled Brandon into the store for safety. They were greeted by a woman as mega-babish as Mrs. Lovely. "Good afternoon. You must be Brandon and Paul. My name is Amber. Brandon's mother called me before her nap to tell me you would be here sometime today. Please follow me to our VVIP (very, very important person) changing suite and I'll get you both comfortable." Paul was impressed. Brandon was randy. The VVIP suite was elegant, with about 30 full-length mirrors, a lit stage, easy chairs for Paul, and a large bed, should the trying-on session prove too arousing for patrons' patience. Amber said, "I've set out some selections for you in the back room, Brandon. Please remember that your mother insisted that you were to get whatever you want and as much as you want. But it appears you have that already. Your man is a real manly man." "He is that. We love each other. And we fuck each other's balls off, don't we, Daddy?" Still not ready for all the frankness, Paul still affirmed Brandon's point. "I tell you, Brandon," Amber said, "If I had a man like that, I would never nag, manipulate or emasculate him. Wait. That's not really true. OK. But I wouldn't enjoy it. That's not true either. Well, I would give him lots of sex to make up for it. Oops. Oh for three." Brandon smiled. "You haven't even seen all of him yet. Is it OK if Mr. Spunkslinger takes his pants off here?" "It's almost a rule. No man could ever survive the show you're about to put on without ruining pants." Brandon asked, "Please take your pants and boxers off, Daddy." Blushing a bit, Paul complied. Amber was not impressed until... "Would you like to give me a kiss for luck, Daddy?" And the boy turned around, lowered his shorts and panties and stuck his majestic ass in Paul's face. Paul kissed and licked out Brandon's anus quite enthusiastically. And his cock grew to its regal magnificence. Amber was impressed. Paul kept licking until Brandon spunked. He turned, kissed Paul on the lips and followed Amber to the back room. Three minutes later the truly greatest show on earth began. Brandon modeled teddies (ah, teddies), chemises, peignoirs, waist cinchers, something called basques, every variety of nightie on the globe, garter belts, panties and LOTS of stockings. The clothing was designed for a boy. Everything fit Brandon perfectly. And aroused Paul furiously. Paul had to ask Amber. "Do you do a lot of sissyboy business?" "About 60 percent of our trade is sissyboys and their fuckers/daddies. Another 35 percent is single women looking to land the big fish or cheating wives. Five percent is married women with lesbian lovers. Don't think we've ever had a woman looking to arouse her husband." Made sense to Paul. Paul didn't want to spill his seed until Brandon was done with the fashion show. It was a genuine struggle. The big finale almost broke the sperm dam. Brandon entered the stage wearing full sissy bridal gear. All in white. Fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings with seams Brandon had worked to get straight. A lacy garter belt snapped on. A floor-length, filmy peignoir. And, get this, a BRA!!" Brandon had never worn a bra. "Do you like my outfit, Daddy? Oh. The way you're dripping what Mommy calls `pre-fuck juice' tells me you do." Paul was steaming hot. "Would you like to watch me come down the aisle in this, Daddy? We could be married. Or do you just want to fuck me?" Paul was astonished. Not because Brandon was being a bit pushy after they knew each other carnally for only 36 hours, but because Brandon would even consider doing the incredible honor of being Paul's sissy wife. "My perfect love, nothing would please me more than to marry you. I'll take you engagement ring shopping next Saturday and I'll work out the details with your mother. That is, if you agree. I love you so much." "Oh, Daddy! Marry me! Take me! Fuck me! And Daddy, one dealbreaker first. You've been ignoring my little titties. My nipples are big and puffy and need your kisses." The joyful teacher said one last thing before attaching his mouth to Brandon's left nipple and carrying him to the bed. "Imagine the scene a week from Monday when you show up in my class at school wearing a two-carat engagement ring." Brandon imagined as he surrendered to his man. Five -- Nipples and nuptials Paul gave Brandon's nipples a fine seeing-to, vowing to never neglect the puffy, little taste treats again. Paul was about to eat another meal of sissy ass in preparation for their first fuck as a semi-engaged couple when Brandon announced, "I lubricated and dilated my pussy backstage for you, Daddy. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me when I wore this last outfit." Was Brandon going to be the best wife in history or what? They almost forgot that Amber was in the room. She said, "I'll be going now. Ringing all this up. Planning the Hawaiian trip I'll be taking with my commission. If you would like me to assist with your lovemaking in any way, I would be glad to... I guess not. See you downstairs at the register." A kind offer, but quickly rejected. It was a furiously fought love match for both sexual athletes. Both were BIG winners. When they left the store at the nine o'clock closing, Amber assured Paul and Brandon that the lingerie mega-wardrobe would be delivered to Brandon's home by an 18-wheeler the next day. At home, the lovers kissed each other to sleep until Sunday morning at 7:09. Just when Mrs. Lovely was getting home. Paul was eager to ask Mrs. Lovely to bless their engagement. "Good morning, Mrs. Lovely. I hope you had a good night. Brandon and I need to talk to you..." "About marrying my son. Amber called me." What a big mouth Amber had, Paul thought. He opened his mouth to talk, but Mrs. Lovely was quicker. "I couldn't be happier, as long as you two understand what's involved." Paul and Brandon gave each other a look of joy. But Mrs. Lovely still had the floor. "A sissy marriage is different. It's only for three years, though both parties can end it earlier. After three years, either party can withdraw. But the real difference is in how the week is structured. Man and sissy bride must agree on how many nights they will live together each week. The options are three, four or five nights. Thus the couple has two, three or four nights per week to fuck other people. NQA, it's called. No questions asked. "It makes perfect sense, since no sissyboy in world history has been able to be monogamous for more than two or three weeks. I would recommend two NQA nights to begin. You can change that later if both agree." Wow! Paul was VERY surprised. Brandon had heard it all before. So Paul would be fucking Brandon only five nights a week and then the sweet, innocent angel would be in some vile man-creature's arms the other two. Still, Paul could get some "strange" those two nights. And what guy doesn't like strange? "There is the matter of how you'll be able to support my precious boy on a teacher's salary. I have a suggestion for that." Paul was all ears. "My date last night was with Mr. Omnivore, your principal. He occasionally dates women instead of his school's young boys. We discussed the fact that your position as a teacher of consent-card-carrying young boys is a very valuable asset. Let's just say that he has had several inquiries about buying that position. He is prepared to offer you two million dollars cash (I got him up from one million) for your resignation letter effective at the end of the semester in six weeks. I recommend you accept. Also, I own another apartment in the building that I will rent to the happy couple for one dollar a month. Of course, I will need to supervise your lovemaking every night." Paul's face showed horror. Brandon laughed. "Good one, Mommy. Mommy's kidding, Daddy. About the supervision, not the other stuff." Mrs. Lovely laughed too. "See, Mr. Spunkslinger. I have a sense of humor. Do you accept the terms except for my joke?" Paul stepped forward and hugged Mrs. Lovely. "Thank you, mother-in-law! I'm starting to love you too." Six -- Monday Paul and Brandon agreed that the practical approach at school for the next six weeks would be to downplay their relationship. Give no hint that hours earlier, Paul had been eating that beautiful ass that was sitting in the second row of math class. Neither chose practical. Brandon wasted no time thrilling his schoolmates with luridly true stories of anal invasion during an unforgettable weekend. Paul couldn't help but swagger a bit in the teacher's lounge. Drawing envious stares from his coworkers because Paul had bagged the biggest game in the school jungle. They kissed openly in the hallway between classes and sneaked off to a supply closet for a lunchtime fuck. By dismissal, Paul had revised his plan. With a bit of assistance yet again from Mrs. Lovely. Her text to Paul said: "David Geldmacher of Geldmacher Jewelry is a special friend of mine. He will give you an excellent deal on a superb ring. You can repay me when you get your two million. Today would be a good day to go." What a mother-in-law! Brandon was THRILLED to go engagement-ring shopping. So thrilled that Paul had to fuck the boy to calm him down. So they got to Geldmacher's ten minutes before closing. No problem. Mr. Geldmacher loved Mrs. Lovely's pussy. He would stay open as long as it took. It took one hour and 42 minutes for Brandon to select a modest three-carat rock at the price of a one carat. Repeat after me, "Mr. Geldmacher loved Mrs. Lovely's pussy." It took another 32 minutes for the rock to be attached to the ring, during which the lovers made use of a special "excitement-relief room" Geldmacher kept for such situations. Brandon was bursting with happiness as Paul slipped the ring onto the boy's pretty finger. Mrs. Lovely even skipped her date that evening so she would be home to share the couple's joy. Paul and Brandon fell asleep in each other's arms. Fucked out for that day, but blissfully happy. Seven -- Ever after The next day at school, despite the difficulty of lifting his hand while wearing such a rock, Brandon made sure every living creature saw his ring. Paul beamed with pride as his fiancée showed off. It took the man a while before he recognized the other dynamic filling the air. Boys were openly and competitively flirting with him. That baffled Paul, but as they enjoyed their lunchtime closet fuck, Brandon explained it to his fiancé. "They know that by getting married, we'll each have at least two days a week of NQA time. They want you to fuck them on those days." Paul jumped to proclaim his innocence. "I never gave any boy encouragement for that. I love you and..." "Of course you do, and I love you too. But in our post-Twenty-Ninth-Amendment world, we're admitting that forcing monogamy hurts a love- affair or marriage. You'll fuck boys and I'll spread my legs for men. Two days a week. That's how we'll keep our marriage fresh for three years or longer. Please don't tell me that you could pass on all the boypussy you were offered this morning." Brandon was wise beyond his tender years. Paul did not lie to Brandon. The thought of being a bit of a harem master was very appealing. That afternoon, in a class where Brandon was not a student, Paul picked up some intriguing messaging from a boy named Marco. Marco seemed a polar opposite of Brandon. There was nothing sissy about him. He would never be the type who would wear lingerie or be the least bit femboy to attract a man. But Marco was pretty, in more of a fully male way. And he was giving Paul come-hither looks from the Come-Hither-Look Hall of Fame. Paul's stones stirred. And his Big One was tenting his pants. Marco noticed. After class, Marco paused for a word with Paul. "Brandon is telling people that he and his Mom are going wedding-gown shopping on Saturday. All day on Saturday. By sissyboy tradition, that's an NQA day for the groom, since no one could expect him to stay celibate for ten hours. Here's my address and phone if you get lonely." [Gulp] The school was a sieve for gossip and as the lovers rode home that afternoon, Brandon said, "Brian saw Marco slip you what looked like his phone number. I hope you kept it for Saturday. If you have to be celibate all day, I'm concerned for your health." "Thank you, Honey," was the perfect answer. Saturday arrived and Brandon was practically peeing his panties with happiness. Was it because he was going with Mommy to buy his sissy wedding gown? Or was he excited because he was going to be fucked by someone other than his loving fiancé? Paul would never know. After a kissy goodbye and a farewell blowjob, Paul wasted few milliseconds before he called Marco. The boy didn't squeal when Paul called. Because he wasn't that kind of sissyboy. But he did sound happy. Thirteen minutes later, Paul was knocking on young Marco's door. Marco opened it wide and asked Paul in. Oh, wait. I forgot to mention that the boy was naked. Nude. Starkers. Things were off to a great start. But Marco seemed startled when Paul embraced him and began to kiss his cherry lips. The masculine boy swooned a little when Paul consumed him with a deep, lippy kiss with lots of tongue and saliva. Despite having withdrawn his spent cock from Brandon's mouth only 18 minutes earlier, Paul's cock was disgracefully aroused. Marco seemed to be bewildered, but three minutes later, both were in Marco's room, on Marco's bed - naked, kissing a lot more and exploring. Paul was already noticing things. Marco reacted differently than Brandon to Paul's kisses, caresses and fondling in certain areas, the same in others. The first super surprise for Paul was when the man began to fellate the boy's red, aching prick. Marco once again seemed startled. Then became fully engaged in pleasure. Surrendering to Paul's ardent lovemaking enthusiastically. The boy cried out in full rapture when his grand crisis overtook him. He was so loud that Paul wondered why the boy's mother or father didn't appear with a baseball bat to save their son. Neither parent appeared all day. When Paul had swallowed a full glob of Marco's boy juice, he had to ask. "Am I doing something wrong? You seem startled." "Oh, Mr. Spunkslinger, you're doing everything right. All the men who have fucked me have refused to kiss me or suck my penis. They said it was `gay.' But it wasn't gay for me to suck theirs." "That's too bad, Honey. So I'm guessing that they never did THIS for you before they fucked you either." Paul positioned Marco on his stomach and began to feast on the boy's pretty ass. Marco's pervious surprise was miniscule compared to his reaction to analingus. He squealed in sodomistic delight as Paul dug deeper and deeper with his sturdy tongue. Let's not forget the cherry on Marco's ice cream sundae that day. Paul was hung! Bigger than any of the selfish creeps who had fucked Marco previously. So the rutting was furious and spectacular. There was one big difference between fucking Marco and fucking Brandon. Marco wasn't giving himself to Paul because he wanted Paul to be his soul mate. He was giving himself to Paul because he liked to fuck. It was cheap, tawdry sex. Devoid of love. Animalistic instinct, not the love he shared with Brandon. Paul was OK with that. Marco and Paul were most compatible regarding anal sex. Though that felt different to Paul too. Not better. Not worse. Different. What a day it was. As the sex traders finished their third act of anal destruction, Paul asked his only pillow-talk question. "Would you ever consider wearing lingerie for a man?" Marco replied adamantly. "No way. I don't do that femboy, girlie stuff." But then he added, most coquettishly, "Unless [giggle] the man asked me [tee hee] very nicely." Perhaps not so different. Both of his boy lovers wanted to please their man. Paul and Marco parted on very good terms. "I think we'll be seeing each other again before you think, Mr. Spunkslinger," the boy said. Paul wasn't sure what Marco meant by that, since the wedding was several weeks off, followed by a three-week honeymoon. He and Brandon wouldn't be starting five-and-two weeks for a couple of months at least. But he stopped thinking when Marco slid to his knees and gave Paul a proper goodbye blowjob. Thank goodness Paul was able to get back to Mrs. Lovely's apartment two hours before the shoppers' scheduled arrival. He took a second shower and was able to regenerate four or five sperm cells to deliver to his lover when they returned. Well. It became a three hour and 47 minute wait. Paul was beyond anxious. Was Brandon fucking everyone at some fire house? Or "volunteering" at the local hospital? Or on his knees fellating six or seven of his mother's special friends one after another? Even worse, did he find some guy with a bigger dick then Paul's? Someone who Brandon liked better than Paul? Was the wedding off? No questions asked would have to be no questions asked. When Brandon and Mrs. Lovely FINALLY returned, Brandon rushed to Paul and consumed "Daddy" in his arms. As they kissed, Brandon didn't smell bad or seem damaged. And he appeared to be just as randy for Paul as always. Maybe more so. Brandon's ass tasted no different. He was just as anally tight. It was truly their best fuck yet. This NQA thing looked as if it would work after all. During a between-fucks break, Brandon brought up something that was on Paul's mind too. "Daddy, do you think we should start the NQA breaks now, instead of waiting until we're married?" "I think that's a great idea, sweetie. It worked for us today, didn't it? I think it's a good way for us to stay fresh for each other." Brandon added, "Would you like to start four nights together, say Thursday after school to Monday when we go to school, then three NQA nights each week?" "You read my mind, my angel," Paul said. Thinking how he could see Marco again as early as Monday night. Or one of the other boys in school. Brandon hugged his Daddy and kissed him, thinking about that invitation he got to return to that firehouse. The fire chief was Mommy's special friend. Brandon wore no lingerie. He just got naked on all fours and said, "There's a fire in my boypussy! Who's going to put it out?" Seven heroic firemen answered the call. It was cheap, tawdry sex. Devoid of love. Animalistic instinct, not the love he shared with Paul. Brandon was OK with that. So Paul and Brandon had the perfect situation: a loving, caring, sex-drenched, steady relationship punctuated by three nights a week of tawdry, meaningless, guilt-free sex. It was going to be a great marriage. NOTE: This will probably be the last story I post for a while. My worst creative fears seem to have been realized and I feel as if I must be repeating myself. Please tell me what you think at either beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com or bc20002015@hotmail.com.