Date: Wed, 13 Aug 2008 17:24:08 -0700 (PDT) From: Beautiful Creamer Subject: Sissyboy Showoff Sissyboy Showoff By Beautiful Creamer One -- The Boy Timmy Skinner opened the room to his bedroom door, walked in and locked it behind him. The 12-year-old little charmer tingled all over in anticipation at what he was about to do. It was "show time." The boy knew that the neighbor man watched Timmy as he undressed. Mr. Santos's bedroom window was about 15 feet from Timmy's. The man stood there every night. Watching Timmy. Mr. Santos kept the lights off, but Timmy spotted the glow of the man's cigar one night two weeks earlier. Since then, Timmy made sure he gave the man a nice show every night. That night, Timmy slid off his shorts and underpants, showing the man his plump, pink bottom. He pretended to drop his clothes on the floor, giving himself a reason to bend over and show his parted cheeks to his audience. He knew Mr. Santos was probably gagging at the sight of "pink." Probably stroking his fat cock as he watched. Timmy couldn't resist giving his bottom a little wiggle as he stood up. The boy stripped off his shirt and turned around, giving a full-frontal view to the man-who-would-be-his-lover. He was already nice and erect, just thinking about what was to come. And how Mr. Santos would surely react. He liked Mr. Santos. He really did. The man was a longtime friend of his mother and was always nice to Timmy. Giving him candy and such when the boy was younger. It wasn't until Timmy was 11 or so that Mr. Santos had begun to look at the boy with that I-want-to-throw-you-on-the-living-room-carpet-climb-on-top-of-you-and-fuck-you look. Which Timmy recognized right away, but Mama never seemed to catch onto. Mama had been preoccupied lately, what with that hot love affair she was having with Carlos. Timmy liked Carlos. He would have liked Carlos's cock up his bottom. But Carlos only had eyes for Mama. Carlos was younger and better-looking than Mr. Santos, who, at 38, had a small beer belly and wasn't exactly gorgeous. But he made Timmy's pecker nice and stiff. Just thinking about "doing things" with Mr. Santos. Timmy wasn't sure how to move things along with him and Mr. Santos. Wasn't that supposed to be the man's job? Timmy wished the man would get with it. Timmy wasn't getting any younger. Mr. Santos worked some kind of a job where he got his hands dirty. And calloused. Timmy thought a lot about how those calloused fingers would feel in his bottom. Rubbing on his prostate. Ooohhh Mr. Santos wanted Timmy. The boy knew that. Why else would he spy on Timmy every night? Fortunately for their inevitable love affair, there was no Mrs. Santos. Not any more. She had run off with the pizza-delivery man a year ago. Right about the time Mr. Santos had begun "looking at" Timmy. That night of the "Big Show," Timmy had a nice surprise for his audience. He reached between his bed's mattress and box spring and extracted a "masturbation aid." Timmy often masturbated in bed. Naked. In full view of Mr. Santos and his glowing cigar. That night, he had a copy of "Sissy Boy" magazine. Oooh. Sometimes, as he wanked, Timmy looked at the men in "GQ" or even "Sports Illustrated". "Sissy Boy" was better. It was a wonderful magazine with a rapidly growing readership. He was way too young to buy it of course, but the man at the newsstand gave it to Timmy. And all the boy had to do was go into the storeroom and pull the man's "thing" a few times until he spurted. He wanted to do way more than that with Mr. Santos. Way more. Timmy lay on his back and opened his legs. To give Mr. Santos a nice view of his "pink bag." The boy opened the plain, brown wrapper and extracted the latest issue of "Sissy Boy." Wow! The cover alone was a ball-drainer. Excellent photography of a gorgeous, 13-year-old angel who was lying on his back in bed. His face was masked in thick, creamy cum. His bottomhole was gaping and drooling out a man's thick, baby juices. His tummy was drenched with his own boy's cream -- his innie was a lake of cum. His beautiful, five-inch prick was limp and drooling boy juice. Timmy had never seen a happier looking boy! Timmy wanted to be like that boy! He opened the magazine to the lead "article." It was called "After-School Delight" and it used pictures to tell the story of two beautiful boys around Timmy's age. They came home from school together and... Timmy stopped to apply some baby-oil gel to his aching privates. Oh, that felt so nice. If only a man would rub him now. Kiss him. Put his big cock inside him. Timmy went back to the literature. The boys were dressed for only the two pictures showing them at school, then coming to one boy's house, where they went to a boyish bedroom, took off all their clothes and love-wrestled for the rest of the "article." Kissing. Sucking each other's pretty cocks. In almost all the 30-or-so pictures, one or both of the boys was spurting cum. So they may have photographed it all in several sessions. Who cared? It was fucking hot! Timmy blew two shuddering loads "reading" the article. Who knew how many spurts Mr. Santos made? Timmy almost came again when he saw the article's wrap-up picture of the two boys lying side-by-side on their backs. They were smiling at each other, chests heaving with exertion. They looked really happy. Cum covered their faces, necks, chests, and pubic areas. Timmy noted that they didn't fuck each other. That was for men to do to them. Should Timmy proceed to the second half of the magazine? Could Mr. Santos's heart stand it? Timmy's balls ached a little, but it was a good ache. He turned the page. Oh my. There was the boy from the cover. With a rampant, naked man. Who was fucking the boy as they stood, facing each other. The title of the article was "Birthday Kisses from Daddy." It showed a boy and his father sharing a birthday cake with 13 flaming candles. Daddy was handsome!!! Was that his real Daddy? Undressing his boy. Sucking his pert nipples, then his hard, little cock. Fucking him from seven of eight angles. Spurting about nine loads of cum on and in the boy. The thought of that...the dirtiness... Poor Timmy spurted again. Just some dribbly drools that time, but a powerful tearing of his abdomen. Timmy didn't have a Daddy, but he was ready to fill that position with Mr. Santos. Two -- The Man Marty Santos could only hold his spunk back until he saw Timmy pull out that "Sissy Boy" magazine and start whacking off to it. That excited Marty for lots of really good reasons. Since his wife left him, Marty had become an avid reader of "Sissy Boy". Why not? He'd tried women and look what it got him. The first time he bought a "Sissy Boy", two days after his wife left, Marty creamed his pants before he got the magazine home. As he was driving. Just from looking at the cover. Every month, Marty would be the first customer at that pervert Josh's newsstand. He was a little ashamed for Josh to see Marty buying such raunchy literature. But all Marty did was read the magazine. Marty knew that Josh was "selling" copies of "Sissy Boy" to young boys in exchange for certain "favors." Young boys who dreamed of men dominating them sexually. The way Marty wanted to dominate Timmy. Ah, Timmy. Those beautiful boys in the magazine, the ones whose pictures he jacked off to every night, those weren't the ones he truly dreamed of fucking. It was his neighbor boy Timmy. Marty Santos loved Timmy. He was obsessed with Timmy. Sure he knew it was wrong. In a way. But how could it be wrong if, in a world where there was such little love, Timmy loved Marty to? Marty was pretty sure that Timmy loved Marty. Or Timmy was the biggest cockteaser in history. Every night the boy "showed his goods" to Marty. Then, for good measure, the boy played with himself until he emptied his testicles. Right in front of Marty. For Marty. And let's face it. If the boy read "Sissy Boy", he wanted cock. "GQ" and "Sports Illustrated" may have had some girls' pictures Timmy was looking at when he spunked. But whacking off to "Sissy Boy" was completely unambiguous. It was time for Marty to connect the dots. Find a way to bring Timmy and himself together. Give Timmy the opportunity to...enjoy himself in new and wonderful ways. Soon. He had a plan. Not a great plan. But it was a start. Marty picked up the phone. Dialed Timmy's mom's number. [Ring] "Hello" "Hi, Grace. It's Marty." "Hi, Marty. How are you?" "Great, thanks. Listen, Grace. I know you're really busy, but, I just called to offer some help." "What kind of help, Marty?" "With Timmy. I mean, Timmy and I have been friends for a long time and I thought that maybe sometime you and Carlos would like some time alone. I could take Timmy out for pizza or something." [Long pause, during which Marty was panicked that he had gone too far. Though he couldn't say why.] Then, voice choked with emotion, "Oh, Marty. That is so sweet. You've always been my favorite neighbor. I'm touched. Marty, I hate to ask you this. It's such a big favor... But Carlos and I were hoping to go away tomorrow night for the weekend. We had a babysitter, but she's sick. And my Mom wouldn't approve, if you know what I mean. It's such a big imposition, but, could Timmy stay with you this weekend? If it wouldn't be too much trouble." Marty choked out his response. "Uh, sure, Grace. That would be fine. Timmy and I could hang out. We'll have a good time together. Uh, I should be home from the job site tomorrow around five. Would that be OK?" Grace squealed happily. "Oh, thank you, Marty! Thank you. You and Timmy will be just fine together, I know it. We'll be home by six Sunday afternoon, if that's OK." OK? It was potentially the greatest thing that had ever happened to Marty Santos. Alone with Timmy for a weekend. Timmy wanted him. Marty knew that. Marty wanted Timmy. And it looked as if he was about to get him. Marty was so excited that he just had to get comfortable and spurt his cream. He went upstairs to see if it was still "show time," but Timmy had turned off his light. The little nipper was sleeping, Marty thought. Rest up, Timmy, he thought. I'm hoping you won't get much sleep this weekend. Marty looked through his extensive, cum-stained collection of "Sissy Boys" and selected the latest swimsuit issue. He stripped naked, lay on his back on his bed and lovingly applied babyoil gel to his thick, foreskinned cock and heavy, hairy balls. Stroking with his oiled right hand, Marty held the magazine with his left hand. Four beautiful, sissyish, almost-girlish little angels were undressing in a locker room. For the thousandth time, Marty reflected on how sissyish all the boys in the magazine were. His assumption was that showing the most girlish boys increased readership, drawing in the men who still considered themselves "hetero," despite frequent ball-draining while reading a magazine about men fucking pretty boys. In the pictures, the boys in the locker room had all stripped naked and were in various combinations of kissing, sucking and cumming their pretty guts out. But that was only the appetizer. The boys put on the most obscene, briefest, teasiest bathing suits ever created -- thongs, speedos -- wispy little things that barely covered their stiff little prongs, plump testicles and puffy little bottoms. They left the locker room and onto the beach, sissying past a string of hunky, sweaty men. Cockteasing shamelessly. The men gave the boys what all cockteasers deserve -- a good, stiff fucking. The men pulled the boys' bathing suits off and plowed their bottoms with their big, hot, hard cocks. Right there on the beach. Spurting inside and all over the delighted boys. Making the boys spurt joyously all over themselves and each other. When Marty was close to cumming, he paused at the centerfold. A long, landscape-oriented picture of Marty's two favorite boys of the four. A blond doll, who, when he emerged from the locker room, was wearing a pink thong suit so brief that his six-inch stiffie tented it to expose most of his hairless ball bag. The other boy was a brunet cutie who had once worn a baby-blue, mini-Speedo over his 2.5-inch mini-prick and baby balls, but was as naked as his blond friend. The boys were on all fours, facing each other, and kissing as a muscular, sweaty man at each end split a boy's tiny bottom with his massive rammer. The photographer had caught the boys in their simultaneous moment of ecstasy, spurting their creamy tributes to Love as they hungrily ate each other's tongues. The boy with the teeny weenie was spurting a respectable load! And so was Mr. Marty Santos in anticipation of his wonderful weekend to come. Three -- Man and Boy Somehow, Marty Santos got through a very distracted Friday of construction work without losing an appendage. It was difficult for the man to think of anything other than the realization of his dream/obsession by loving Timmy. The only thing that kept Marty just a bit grounded was the fear that Timmy would turn out to be a prickteaser. He knew women teased and never pleased. Had known lots of them. But he couldn't imagine a boy would do that. Boys need to empty their bags. And so do men. Marty checked out of work and got home around four -- one hour until he took "possession" of the boy. Ohhhh. Marty had to clean himself up, get dressed and be careful not to "lose a load." He had a feeling he would need every drop of his manly juices that weekend. Timmy had gotten home from school at 3:30, went to his room and, uncharacteristically, closed his curtains. He wanted Mr. Santos getting ready for their "date" and not spilling his stuff watching Timmy. The boy wanted all that creamy stuff for himself. Timmy took a nice, hot bath, dried himself off, then powdered his pretty tummy, bottom and "privates." The boy was very excited about the weekend. Though he acted like an experienced dickteaser, Timmy had really only stroked off one man -- the newsstand guy who gave him "Sissy Boy." He and his best friend Greg had been french-kissing lately, but Greg had put the brakes on whenever things were about to escalate (or ejaculate). Greg's worries about being gay. Stupid, eh? Anyway, Timmy had read about sex, had dreamed about sex, had jacked off to pictures about sex, but now he was going to be having sex. Wow. Timmy wished he had some really sexy underwear, but all he had were tightie-whities. He put on a tshirt that some might say was too small for him and shorts that all would say were too small -- except for men who wanted to fuck him. Flip-flops that showed off his pretty toes. He looked in the mirror, pronounced himself "fuckable" and looked at his watch. 4:37. Twenty-three minutes to wait. Ick. But no. His mother was calling him. "Mr. Santos is here. Bring your things." Timmy had packed his bag the night before. He was ready. And glad that Mr. Santos was early. Eager was good. Timmy loved the look on Mr. Santos' face as Timmy descended the stairs. The man was hungry for Timmy. Mr. Santos loved how effing beautiful Timmy was as he descended the stairs. Gosh, he couldn't wait to fuck him. Mrs. Skinner couldn't wait for them to leave so Carlos could give her a nice fucking before they drove off for their weekend of fucking. Everyone would get his or her wish. Timmy and Mr. Santos went to Mr. Santos's house. Both were clearly nervous about what was unsaid and unfucked. At Mr. Santos's suggestion, Timmy went to the guest room and put his bag on the bed. Nice room, Timmy thought. The boy went downstairs and rejoined Mr. Santos. Now what? "Let's go get pizza. Do you like pizza, Timmy?" I like cock better, Timmy thought. But he said, "Sure." They drove to Timmy's favorite pizza place and chowed down. Nervous, trite conversation. Drove home. At 6:10, they were back at Mr. Santos's house. Spring night. Two more hours of daylight. What the hell, Mr. Santos thought. "Why don't you go get dressed for bed, Timmy?" Mr. Santos asked. Great idea, Timmy thought. When he agreed without mentioning the incongruity of jammies at 6:10, the ice was clearly cracked. "I'll get changed too," Mr. Santos said, as he closed the living-room drapes. For privacy later. Lots could happen in 47 hours and 50 minutes. So it's going to happen., Timmy thought. Cool. Man and boy climbed the stairs together. Not touching. Not talking. Timmy to the guest room. Mr. Santos to the master bedroom. Mr. Santos stripped off all his clothes and washed his hands, armpits and face again. Brushed his teeth again. He put on his bathrobe and was looking for his slippers when his bedroom door opened and there was Timmy. In his pajamas. Sort of. Part of his pajamas anyway. The gorgeous boy was wearing only a pajama top and a very sexy smile. He was carrying a floppy, stuffed rabbit. Bare legs and feet. The pj top barely covering the boy's scanty pubic hairs. The ice was rapidly shattering. Mr. Santos had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. The man slid off his robe and stood naked before the overheated boy. Beer-gut-beginnings and all. Timmy knew his time had come. He walked toward Mr. Santos, dropped his bunny and threw his arms around Mr. Santos's naked torso. Mr. Santos wasn't rushing this. He held the boy's torso in his strong hands, lifted him a foot and a half, and kissed his lips. Then, gently, he laid the steaming boy onto his bed. On his back. Timmy trembled as he imagined the man mounting him and with one painful thrust, impaling him on his stiff prick. Which Timmy was sneaking peeks at and judging quite boy's-bottom-worthy. But impetuous youth would have to wait. Mr. Santos was about to enjoy his feast one course at a time. The appetizer was Timmy's pretty toes. Mr. Santos unbuttoned Timmy's pajama top and opened it to expose the boy's soft tummy and pouty, brown nipples. Then he took a deep breath and began to kiss, then suck each precious toe on Timmy's beautiful left foot. Timmy gasped with newly defined lust as, for the first time, he found himself the object of sexual worship. Mr. Santos took his time, licking all around and between each cute digit as the boy writhed in obscene appreciation. He licked the boy's sole making the boy squeak, kissed his heel, then his ankle, at which point he abandoned the left foot and went to work on the right. Timmy was panting and gasping as the man adored his feet, then kissed and licked his way up the boy's right leg until he reached Timmy's inner thigh. Soft, butterfly kisses along the fleshy inner thigh had the boy moaning with unrequited, needy lust. Feeling the boy was sufficiently steamy for the moment, Mr. Santos stopped kissing and used the tips of his calloused fingers to explore the boy's pubic regions. He reached under Timmy's tiny scrotum and lifted his pretty pearls gently. Then kissed each sweet sphere with soft lips. Delighted with the boy's squeaks and moans, the man used his tongue to bathe each beautiful egglet. Poor Timmy. He was only human. He wanted to hold his first creamies in as long as possible. That point had been reached. Timmy arched his back and hurled thick, creamy ropes of cum toward his tummy, his chest, and even his chin as the roguish Mr. Santos watched in lustful awe. The man licked and sucked each delicious testicle until the boy's heaving orgasm was finished. Then he abandoned the scrotum and set about tidying his lover up. Slowly, Mr. Santos licked his way from Timmy's cum-tangled pubic hairs, to his cum-puddled belly button, along his cum-spattered chest, particularly his cum-streaked nipples, to his cum-globbed neck. Timmy was in erotic paradise. He loved being the object of a man's man-to-boy desire, even more than just teasing said man. His little peter was getting all stiff again, even though Mr. Santos hadn't even touched it yet, with his lips or his hand. That would change. But not quite yet. When Mr. Santos had licked up all of Timmy's scrumptious sperm. He stood up and looked into Timmy's lovestruck eyes. He produced a tube of some very slippery stuff, then slathered it on the middle and index fingers of his right hand. Mr. Santos looked into Timmy's baby blues and saw Timmy making eye contact. With the man's fat cock. Which was drooling profusely. Timmy licked his lips. Mr. Santos liked that in a sex partner. The boy can wait for the "meal of his life," Mr. Santos thought. But not much longer. Mr. Santos asked Timmy, "You're a little cockteaser, aren't you?" Timmy whimpered and licked his lips again. Mr. Santos repeated the question. "You're a little cockteaser, aren't you?" Timmy croaked out a yes. Mr. Santos slid his two well-lubed fingers into Timmy's ultra-tight bottomhole. Timmy cried out. Oh, that felt good, the boy thought. Mr. Santos found Timmy's prostate and began to rub it. Timmy yelped, then settled back into a new, higher plane of pleasure as Mr. Santos rubbed his prostate and said things like, "Little cockteasers like you deserve a hard fucking. A big cock in this tight, little bottom of yours. That's what you want isn't it? That's what you need?" Timmy couldn't answer, merely nod, gasp and pant. So Mr. Santos stopped talking and took the boy's cock into his mouth. And gave it several long, wet sucks as he tormented the boy's prostate with his thick, slick, calloused fingers. Timmy screamed and, in full, erotic agony, wrenched the cum from his balls, hurled it through his little stiffie and into the man's hungry mouth. Yum! Mr. Santos swallowed his big reward, kissed and licked the boy's cock throughout his puerile orgasm, then removed his fingers from paradise in order to replace them with his cock. He stood and leaned over to kiss Timmy on the lips, tonguing Timmy's mouth, letting the boy taste the remnants of his own sperm. When the boy had sufficiently recovered from his full-body orgasm, Mr. Santos lifted the boy's knees, placed three pillows under Timmy's hips and placed his drooling peehole at the boy's lubed, dilated puckerpoint. "Now I'll give you what cockteasers get, Timmy boy. I'm going to fuck you in your cockteasing, man-disrespecting, sissboy ass. It'll hurt at first, but that's what cockteasers deserve." Mr. Santos wasn't angry or vengeful. He just figured that Timmy wanted to be told exactly that. And he was right. "Yessir," Timmy said. "I'm a cockteasing, little, faggoty sissyboy and I deserve whatever you do to me. Stick your big cock into me. Now! Please! I need it!" And that was just what Mr. Santos needed to hear. He pushed his cock past Timmy's anal ring. Which hurt the little cockteaser a lot more than it hurt his lover. If Timmy's blood-curdling scream meant what it seemed to mean. Mr. Santos stopped to let the boy accommodate the stretching. Then he pushed in a bit more. Engendering only a half-scream. One more push and the whole salami was hidden. Timmy gasped. His bottom was filled with his dream man's cock! He was a fucked little sissyboy. He was practically split in two by the lustful, snorting man, but he was OK. He might even live through it all. It was still a little painful when Mr. Santos started to thrust back and forth. But even that discomfort passed. Timmy settled into full enjoyment of his first fucking. And a great one it was. He felt like the total "possession' of a rutting, snorting dominant man. Covered by the man's powerful body. A helpless little sissyboy. Powerless under the massive, masterful man who was satisfying his own disgusting needs. Just like in Sissy Boy magazine. Only way better. Mr. Santos had never enjoyed a fuck more in his life. Timmy was hotter, sexier and more enthusiastic about sex than any woman Mr. Santos had ever been with. And his ass was heaven on earth. Mr. Santos was getting close to his orgasm, but he didn't want to cum yet. Then Timmy blew his third load of that wonderful evening. And that was that for Marty Santos. The gripping of the ass muscles on Mr. Santos's cock! The pure lustful rapture Timmy demonstrated as he shuddered through his climax. Mr. Santos heaved his sperm into Timmy's perfect bottom. It was a magnificent moment for them both. And more were imminent. Young Timmy loved the "dirtiness" of having a spunk-and-cock-filled rectum. Scant moments after his loss of virginity, he was already quite the little cock lover. The lovely boy scrunched his face in disappointment when his anal passage involuntarily rejected Mr. Santos's deflated cock. In a naughty impulse of passion, Timmy slithered up to the reclining Mr. Santos's cock and began to apply soft kisses to its cum-and-poop-flecked tube of flesh. Mr. Santos groaned with lust as the boy kissed and licked his way up to the cum-drooling peehole. With a bit of sweet effort, Timmy got Mr. Santos all stiff again. And Mr. Santos knew just what to do with his newly formed wood. Back where it needed to be, firmly lodged in his new "boy" friend's asshole. And there it stayed for most of that fantastic weekend. Four -- Man, Boy and Boy When Grace Skinner and her friend Carlos returned from their own fuck-filled weekend on Sunday night, she thought Timmy looked wonderful. He seemed happy. Happier than she had seen the boy for some time. Good man, that Marty Santos, Grace thought. A real father figure for her son. Grace was delighted and couldn't thank Mr. Santos enough. "Oh, Marty! Thank you so much. You were wonderful to watch Timmy for me. I hope he wasn't a bother." "Oh no," Marty said honestly. "I loved having him." He actually loved having him three times on Friday night, seven on Saturday and five on Sunday. Plus some nice cum loads that the little sword-swallower managed to extract with his hot mouth. Mr. Santos awoke both mornings with Timmy nursing on the man's swollen cock, greedily claiming the first-and-creamiest-of-the-day load for his hungry belly. "In fact," Marty continued, "Any time, and I mean any time you want to send him over, that's fine." Grace turned and looked at Timmy, who said, "That would be cool, Mom. Mr. Santos is a really great guy. We had a lot of fun." So much fun that the boy was walking very stiffly. Grace's eyes filled with tears of gratitude. Now she could pursue her romance with Carlos and not neglect her boy. Plus, Timmy was gaining a role model. She didn't think Carlos would be much of a role model for Timmy, what with his rap sheet and all. But he sure was hot in the sack. Though not as hot as Timmy was. Mr. Santos was planning on going straight to bed after Timmy left. To sleep. For at least 12 hours. Hooked up to an IV bag to restore fluids. Timmy went over and gave Mr. Santos a goodbye hug, rubbing his stiffie against Mr. Santos's crotch. The boy was one in ten million all right. Timmy slept the sleep of the innocent that night and didn't even dream of sex. When he awoke on Monday morning though, he was once again quite randy. It would have to wait. Timmy got home from school around three. Mr. Santos got home 90 minutes later; Timmy's Mom at sixish. Timmy was the proud owner of a key to the Santos estate. He planned on going over to his lover's house a few minutes before Mr. Santos arrived. Getting undressed. Greeting his man stiff, naked and ready. But then his friend Greg suggested that they go to Timmy's house after school and "hang out." Was Greg ready to go beyond "French-kissing?" Had he gotten over his "fear of fagging?" Timmy was determined to find out. The boys arrived at Timmy's house at 3:05, at which point, Timmy announced, "I have a key to the next-door neighbor's and he has dirty magazines Want to go?" No 12-year-old boy in history has ever said no to that question. The boys sneaked over to Mr. Santos's, opened the door and giggled their way to Mr. Santos's bedroom, where Timmy went straight for the stash of "dirty magazines." Greg was astonished to see that they were all back issues of "Sissy Boy." Greg had heard of "Sissy Boy," but had never seen one. One day, a few weeks ago, when Greg was in the park, a man had approached Greg and told the boy he was a "talent scout" for "Sissy Boy" magazine. The man offered Greg a "tryout" right there in the park's public restroom. Greg ran home. But he didn't run that fine Monday. At first, Greg was disappointed that there weren't any magazines featuring superannuated bleach blondes with huge boobs, black garter belts, black, seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings and five-inch-stiletto pumps. But then he got a closer look at "Sissy Boy." The first issue he looked at featured twin 12-year-old blond angels who were making their twin, mid-30s uncles very happy. Sucking the men's fat cocks. Taking their massive pricks into their miniscule, boyish bottomholes. Cum everywhere. Even making the pages stick together. Greg was stricken by what he saw. It was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed. It made him feel heat in his ears and his legs trembled. His cock was so stiff that he was afraid Timmy would notice and think Greg was gay. Until Timmy stripped naked, lay on Mr. Santos's bed and began to flog his cock as he "read" an issue of "Sissy Boy" where a teacher was fucking a beautiful boy who was pressed face-down on the teacher's desk in the classroom after school. Greg had never seen Timmy naked before. That made him even hotter. What to do? Timmy stopped wanking, motioned to Greg in a "come on in, the water's fine" way, then resumed wanking. Greg sighed, then plunged in. He stripped naked and lay next to Timmy on Mr. Santos's bed. Touching bare legs as they wanked. Timmy sneaked looks at Greg's body. Not bad! Excellent, in fact. Yum! Though Greg had joined the wank party last, he spurted first. Blowing his load as he watched the "Sissy Boy" twins lying side by side, being fucked to thick, creamy spurts by their uncles as they leaned over and kissed each other's pretty lips. Seeing Greg spurt and listening to his friend's little squeals made Timmy spurt too. So there they were. Lying next to each other. Naked. Cum puddled on their tummies. Boys who had French-kissed before. Time to do it again, though "naked kissing" is an entirely different sport than its clothed cousin. Greg actually initiated the kiss. And the rubbing of cummy privates as they sucked each other's tongues. Beautiful boys kissing. Ultra-gay magazines strewn about. Beautiful boys fondling each other as they kissed. Each rubbing his sperm on the other boy's privates to make his lover stiff. On a man's bed. A man who had gotten off work early that day and was standing at the bedroom doorway watching in full fascination. Timmy noticed Mr. Santos first. Which is a good thing because if Greg had, they would have had to call 911. Playing his part, Timmy squeaked out, "Mr. Santos, you're home early!" Mr. Santos, recognizing yet another opportunity of a lifetime, waited until he saw Greg's terror-stricken reaction. The boy froze in fear. Mr. Santos answered Timmy by saying, "It looks as if I got home just in time to see two gay little sissyboys cumming all over each other. And don't even try to tell me it's not what it looks like." Timmy gave a pretty good imitation of a tremble as he nakedly embraced his friend Greg. "Oh, please, sir. Don't tell anyone you saw us. Everyone will hate us if they think we're gay. Think of our families. You can do anything you want to us, sir. Anything! You can even fuck our bottoms if you want!" Greg looked at Timmy with the same horror he had viewed Mr. Santos moments earlier. Promising Greg's bottomhole to Mr. Santos's cock wasn't something Timmy was authorized to do—speaking bureaucratically. Greg was about to note that for the record when he saw that Mr. Santos had already removed his pants, flipped Timmy onto his stomach and was eagerly and actively eating out the boy's bottomhole. Much to Timmy's squealing, squeaking delight. And Greg's frozen amazement. It occurred to Greg, somewhat dimly, that he could leave that sordid little scene quite easily. Gather his clothes. Put them on. Go downstairs. Walk home. Never speak of it again. Just leave. He wanted to, but his cock wouldn't let him. He was stunned that Mr. Santos, or anyone, would do anything as "dirty" as tonguing a boy's bottomhole. He was stunned that Timmy was taking such obvious delight in that horribly emasculating act. And he was doubly stunned that he wished very much that he were Timmy at that moment. Just as in "Sissy Boy," a beautiful boy was being "sexed" by a powerful, lustful man. And they were both having the time of their lives. Greg audibly gasped when, after eating Timmy out completely and utterly, Mr. Santos stood, leaned forward, and impaled Timmy on his thick, hot, hard cock. Timmy gasped with pleasure and began to beg to be fucked harder! Mr. Santos complied, pumping and thrusting. Making Timmy cry out and cum at least twice before the man shot his sperm deep within the boy. Time to leave, a wide-eyed Greg thought. Nothing else to see here. Just move along. But he didn't move. Not even when Mr. Santos withdrew his cock from Timmy's bottom, took Timmy onto his lap and kissed him. Greg did, in fact, move when Mr. Santos motioned for him to join Timmy on the man's hairy lap. He quickly sissied over, sat and opened his mouth for the man's kisses. And his legs, so that the man could enter his bottom with two calloused fingers. As his friend Timmy got onto his knees and sucked Greg's overexcited cock. Oh my. That was nice. Very nice. Especially when all that delicious fingering of Greg's prostate made it so that Greg's spermies wouldn't stay put and shot all over Timmy's pretty face. Very nice. Somehow, Greg's hand had gotten onto Mr. Santos's cock and his delicate, sexy touch had made Mr. Santos hard again. Mr. Santos had put some slippery stuff on his digits as he finger-fucked and dilated Greg's sweet bottomhole. And then Greg was on his stomach, on the bed. Just as Timmy had been. Mr. Santos was behind him and then he was inside him. The man's cock was inside Greg's bottom! Greg was a submissive, simpering sissyboy, just like the little thrillers in that dirty magazine. How could Greg have ever thought, when he got up that morning, that he would be butt-fucked that afternoon? Or that it would hurt like the fires of the "bad place?" Or that, despite the pain, he would enjoy it all very, very much. Greg screamed, and not from pleasure. But Timmy kissed his friend's neck and rubbed his friend's back, soothing him. And then it was all right. Not painful. Nice. Then it was what Greg needed more than anything on earth. A good, stiff fucking. It's what most people need. And it's the happiest ending of all. I welcome your comments at beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com. Other stories on nifty: "Sweetyboys" (gay young friends) August 31, 2007 "Boarding-School Bedmates" (bisexual adult-youth, though it's quite gay) May 5, 2008 "After-School Stroke Club" (gay high school) May 28, 2008 "Pretty" (gay adult-youth) May 21, 2008 "Hotel Management" (gay adult-youth) June 2, 2008 "Dating Pretty Boys" (gay young friends) July 2, 2008 "Schoolboy Pleasures" (gay adult-youth) July 26, 2008 "Sissyboy Stepson" (gay adult-youth) July 30, 2008 "The Little Prickpleaser" (gay-incest) August 1, 2008