Date: Wed, 3 Jun 2015 21:04:11 +0000 From: Beau Kramer Subject: Sissyboy Transition (gay adult-youth) Sissyboy Transition (gay adult-youth) By Beautiful Creamer This is all fantasy. I don't do this stuff and you shouldn't either. What you should do is contribute to nifty.org. NOTE: My last three stories have been "corrupted" somehow. Apostrophes and quotation marks were replaced with question marks. The Nifty Archivist recommended that I switch from yahoo for sending stories from now on, so you'll note a new email of origin. You can still write me, and I wish you would, at beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com One – Carter at almost 15 Carter Firmwood checked himself out in the bathroom mirror one more time before joining his husband, Mr. Firmwood, in their bedroom. Not bad, Carter thought, as he examined his classically beautiful face. Not as young-and-innocent looking as he had been at almost age 12 nearly three years ago, perhaps, But still strikingly beautiful. Enhanced by a little bit of blush, some light eye makeup, and a very red, very transferrable lipstick on his full, kissable lips. Carter thought briefly about the first 18 months of his and Mr. Firmwood's happy marriage. His man had never asked Carter to use makeup or lingerie at bedtime. Or at any time, But as time passed, Mr. Firmwood would gently request that his boywife try "this or that," just to see if they liked it during lovemaking. Ever a good boywife, Carter complied. And, for the most part, enjoyed wearing stockings, panties, basques, teddies, peignoirs, garter belts, big high heels and many varieties of nighties. Six months later, Carter even began to shave his body below the nose every day for his man. Six months after that, Carter began to wear lipstick to bed. Then makeup. Carter didn't like to think about the reason why Mr. Firmwood wanted Carter to do all that. But he knew why. Carter was getting old. He had married late as a sissyboy. He was almost 12 when he and Mr. Firmwood walked down the aisle. A sissyboy-Daddy wedding was only valid for three years, so on the night this story begins, Carter and Mr. Firmwood had only six weeks of marriage left. Which made Carter sad. Because he loved Mr. Firmwood. And he believed Mr. Firmwood loved him. He was also sad because Mr. Firmwood had told Carter that he was marrying another boy – a 10-year old beauty – within 30 days of their marriage termination. So much for Carter's wild dream that Mr. Firmwood might want to marry Carter again. But Mr. Firmwood had been good and loving to Carter. And had left him financially comfortable for life. Though socially uncomfortable for life, as Carter saw it that night. Carter took a deep breath and checked out his outfit for that night's sex session. Carter was wearing a pink corset, pink, opera-length gloves with the fingers removed, pink stockings with matching garter belt, and strappy, four-inch-stiletto mules. He had a major woodie just looking at himself. Yes, Carter could have denied Mr. Firmwood sex because his husband didn't want to remarry Carter. But that would be denying Carter sex too. And Carter needed sex. Plus he did love Mr. Firmwood. And even if he didn't, the terms of their marriage were that said boywife would "submit" to said husband's lust for at least five husbandly orgasms – whether induced by anal, manual or oral activity - per day. Five days a week. During the other two days of the week, the typical sissyboy wife spent one sperm-drenched night with his Daddy and another with a very lucky person of the boywife's choosing. Carter did follow that pattern to a tee. Though he noticed that Daddy's enthusiasm for Carter was waning too! Daddy sometimes cut their fuck sessions short or said he was busy on the appointed days. Though not too busy to spend time fucking Jimmy, the family's nine-and-a-half-year-old, next-door neighbor. [Sigh] Rejected by both his husband and his father. Though still beautiful and fuckworthy! Thank goodness Carter had a long list of suitors for each week's free day and night. They were all handsome. Well-hung. Romantic. Madly in love with Carter. And each fully, oddly and counter-intuitively thought himself to be heterosexual. Which was the kind of lover-man Carter liked. Hetero males treated Carter as their precious little flower. As Daddy's little princess. As the culmination of all their naughtiest fuck dreams. Hetero males worshipped Carter. And Carter loved being worshipped. Seven days a week. Not just one. Maybe two. Oh well. Maybe Carter could drown his funk in Mr. Firmwood's sperm. Carter stood, balanced on his impossibly high heels. And sissied into the bedroom he shared with his husband. Mr. Firmwood was sitting up in their emperor-sized bed. On top of the sheets. Naked. A very impressive naked. Displaying his magnificent sissypleaser. In all its 9.47-inch, blue-veined, fully-skinned, red-knobbed glory. The boywife's husband's cock twitched when he saw Carter. Which proved that Mr. Firmwood still loved Carter, right? The flame of love did still burn for Carter in Mr. Firmwood's heart. But Mr. Firmwood's heart was a roaring inferno for Peter Boffable, the ten-year-old angel that Mr. Firmwood had been dating two days a week for the past seven weeks. And would marry in ten more. Mr. Firmwood had no bad feelings for Carter. He had orgasmed with the young beauty more than 4,000 times (at least 5 times a day, 5 days a week, for three years) and every one of their more than 3,000 anal fucks was a great one. But time marches on. Carter was the 45-year-old multi-multi-millionaire's third boywife. His fourth marriage if one counted four hellish years with Mary Jane Slutsky. Carter was the best of the four by a large margin. But he was getting old. Deeper voice. Hair, though scrupulously shaven, in the wrong places. Carter was becoming a man. And Mr. Firmwood didn't fuck men. Because he was heterosexual. In his mind, if not his cock and tongue. Mr. Firmwood was not about to leave Carter stranded on a metaphorical bleak shore. He had a plan. Which we'll discuss later. Because Carter's cock was stiff and Mr. Firmwood's was stiffer. A time for action, not story exposition. Carter looked into Mr. Firmwood's eyes and saw what he wanted to see. Mr. Firmwood was Carter's "Daddy" and Carter was "Daddy's Princess." Taking care of Carter. Loving Carter. Protecting Carter. Beckoning Carter to kneel across Daddy's hips and feed Daddy his girlish cock. Mmmmm. Daddy loved Carter's cock. It was just the right size for an ideal sissyboy. Just short of five inches. Bigger would mean that some of the young beauty's manfriends would be "outgunned" by Carter. Smaller and it would have been less fun to suck and worship with lips, tongue and mouth. Mmmmmm. Carter's cock! Daddy licked the knob just the way that Carter liked. He held onto Carter's plump, perfect bumcheeks just the way Carter liked. Then slid two rude fingers into Carter's bumhole just the way Carter liked. Which was physically delightful. But a bit boring in its sameness and predictability. Even as Carter was squealing and squirting his thick cummies into Mr. Firmwood's mouth, the whole "same-old, same-old" nature of his five-days-a-week sex life struck the pretty boy. Maybe it WAS time for big changes in Carter's life. But what? And how? The Panty Life had been so good to Carter thus far. He aimed to keep it that way. Two – Carter at almost ten It had been a little over five years since Carter Firmwood (nee Analust) had discovered sex. The summer before Carter's tenth birthday occurred around the time that his mother decided to go back to work. Which left Carter without a parent to supervise him. Naturally, Carter begged his mother to let him "watch" himself. But Mom and Daddy reasoned correctly that a boy who leaves his underwear on the floor, his plate at the table and his school book bag at numerous locations was not ready to be left alone. Especially in a house with a swimming pool, where Carter's irresponsibility could result in his drowning. Mom was surprised to see that, among the applicants for Carter's babysitter, was a 16-year-old neighborhood boy named Brandon. Brandon seemed to be such a manly boy that Mom thought he would want to be a lifeguard or work construction or something. But Brandon did well in the interview and Carter seemed to like Brandon. So that was that. The first two days of summer vacation were rainy. Brandon drove Carter to the science museum on the first day and the movies on the second. The third day was sunny. Carter wanted to swim in the Analusts' backyard pool. Brandon wanted to see what Carter, whom Brandon had lusted after over the past year, looked like in a bathing suit. And out of a bathing suit. For his part, Carter, who had had neither sex education nor experience, was still feeling a bit sexed-up. And didn't know why. The little angel had hardly known Brandon until two days earlier. But the older boy had shown a genuine interest in Carter. Which was flattering. Plus, Brandon seemed to take a great interest in pleasing Carter, to the point of doing what Carter wanted, not himself. Which would prove to be the key aphrodisiac throughout Carter's life. Carter liked being pleased. Carter noticed the way Brandon looked at him too. The way Daddy looked at Mom sometimes before they would go into their bedroom, lock the door and make all those squeals, moans, grunts and screams. Did Brandon want to take Carter into his boyish bedroom and do things that made them squeal, moan, grunt, and scream? Did Carter want that? Yes. He was sure of it. Though he had only a rudimentary notion of what engendered squeals, moans, grunts and screams. Over the past two days, Carter got a terrible stiffie when he thought about being in bed, naked, with Brandon. Rubbing bodies and [blush] cocks! Brandon sent Carter to his bedroom to put his bathing suit on. Waited four minutes. Then barged in to ask Carter a question about some irrelevant instruction that Mom had issued to Brandon earlier that morning. Carter was naked of course. As Brandon had hoped. Carter made no effort to cover up. Merely took his time answering Brandon's question. Giving Brandon a nice, full frontal view. And his glorious little stiffie and attendant pink purse. Then turning to display his evolving, but already perfect ass. Brandon left Carter's room. Face flushed. Breathing unevenly. Carter smiled slightly. Brandon liked what he saw. Carter was sure of it. But now what? The boys met at the pool. Brandon was wearing a remarkably skimpy suit, even by European standards. But it looked like a burka compared to what Carter was wearing. Which was nothing. "Daddy says that since our pool is private, we don't have to wear suits if Mom isn't home. Is that OK?" Brandon gulped. And said, "Sure. Then he stepped out of his suit. And showed Carter his first live-and-in-person man-cock. That little story about Daddy endorsing poolside nudity was a big fib, of course. Carter just wanted to be naked with a naked Brandon. Carter gulped when he saw the naked Brandon. And pushed Brandon into the pool. Giggling fiercely as he joined his baby sitter in the cool water. Carter thought about Brandon's cock as they horsed around in the pool. He hadn't gotten much of a look at it, but what he saw looked big, hard and drippy. All good things, right? Brandon got a few quick feels in as they aqua-wrestled and was pleased to see that being nude with Brandon had Carter in a bit of a state. That was enough encouragement for Brandon to cross the big line. Trembling, Brandon held Carter in his arms and kissed the boy's pretty lips. Carter didn't respond at first. Which terrorized Brandon momentarily. Seeing himself in juvie lockup. With an unsavory roommate intent on the wrong kind of romance with Brandon. But Carter's reason for responding was that he didn't know how exactly this kissing business worked. It was his first kiss, after all. So to reassure his new best friend, he grabbed his new best friend's lifelong best friend. And stroked it as Brandon kissed him. Terror attack aborted. Brandon introduced his tongue to the kissing and began to stroke Carter's cock as well. Underwater cock stroking has its pleasures. But the new lovers wanted to get dry and get serious. So four minutes and 45 seconds later, the dry, naked boys were lying on top of Carter's single bed. Kissing and stroking each other's fine pricks. Cock stroking was new to Carter too. But he was a fast learner. Carter paid attention to how Brandon used his thumb to maximize the infliction of pleasure on Carter's "arrowpoint," and copied his technique quite nicely. Yum! Brandon was in heaven. The sissyboy of his dreams was proving to be a randy little cockhound. Even better, it appeared that Brandon had been the one who unearthed Carter's propensity for cockhoundedness. Brandon was Carter's first, Brandon was sure of it. Did that mean he should go slowly? Or take full advantage of Carter's innocence and inexperience to satisfy all of his disgusting urges in as disgusting a manner as disgustingly possible? In the few, fleeting moments before the blood rush to his cock cut off all reasoning brain functions, Brandon took anal sex off that day's agenda. Brandon had never had anal sex. He needed to get online and read up on it so that he didn't screw it up, hurt Carter, and have Carter swear off all future anal sex and any further sex with Brandon. Fortunately, that left a delightful array of satisfying, exciting activities for that day's carnal fiesta. Brandon had seen how Carter was repeating whatever Brandon did. Brandon wanted a blowjob really badly. So if he sucked and licked Carter's pretty jewel first... Brandon scooted south on the bed. Stopping for ten glorious minutes to pay oral homage to Carter's amazingly cute and hair-trigger sensitive nipples. That surprised Carter. He had no idea that his nipples were so... Oh! What was happening? Carter's stomach was tingling. So were his pretty thighs. Brandon was licking that left nipple so sweetly as he was rubbing a rude finger all around the outside of the place where Carter pooped! It was all so intense! Carter felt as if he were losing control of mind and body. His tiny balls ached to do something. Something new. Something he wanted to do a lot. And then... Carter squealed like a banshee schoolgirl at a scary movie. His body shuddered. He felt detached from the surly bonds of his home planet. It was his first orgasm. Dry. But remarkably intense. Oh! So that was what all that fuss regarding sex was all about. Well. Carter liked it. A lot. He also liked what Brandon was doing with his mouth and Carter's penis. Brandon was licking the skinned head very, very nicely. And Carter's pink purse as well. With lots of saliva. And...oh! Brandon's finger had actually entered Carter's poopy hole!! Just to the first knuckle. But the combination of having his bum violated and his prick licked was heavingly intense for the sweet boy. He looked at Brandon with wide eyes, then abandoned himself to sex-pleasure for the second time in 15 minutes. The second orgasm was more stunning than the first. Being a generous boy, Carter soon returned Brandon's sweet favors. Carter's mouth was little and Brandon's cock was a healthy 6.47 inches. But Carter took note that Brandon had never actually consumed Carter's prick. Merely licked it. So Carter licked all around Brandon's cockhead as he slid two fingers into Brandon's bum. Wriggling his fingers as he ran his tongue hither and yon around Brandon's cockknob soon produced the desired result – the Sissyboy's Big Reward! And it was a very big reward. Carter had no real knowledge of male sperm birth at the time. So he was totally surprised and thoroughly delighted when Brandon frosted his face with seven hot blasts of something creamy, hot and sticky. Brandon's moans of joy confirmed that Carter had done well. As did the hot session of devoured kisses and cum smearing and eating that followed. At their age, Carter and Brandon didn't need much of a rest period. So 15 minutes later, Brandon was licking; kissing and sucking Carter's prick again. But that time, Brandon had entered Carter with two fingers that knew where they were going. Straight to Carter's prostate. Carter sat up as if electrocuted when Brandon touched his pleasure button for the first time. Tears of hard lust filled his eyes as he lay back down and endured the dual assault on his delicious body. The sweet boy's next orgasm convulsed him so intensely that Brandon worried he had gone too far. He had not. Carter had fallen in love. With sex. And, to a lesser degree, with Brandon. Still, fearing discovery and the possibility of injury to Carter, Brandon called a halt to the day's sex session. An edict which he revoked when Carter begged Brandon to allow him to orally pleasure Brandon's cock once more for that lovely day. Ever the brilliant copycat. Carter found Brandon's prostate by trial and error. No arching of the back and moaning in ecstasy meant Carter hadn't found the prostate. Arching of the back and moaning in ecstasy was success. Carter noted that sweet button's location for future reference. A tidbit of knowledge that he would later employ thousands of times. Having one's prostate tortured as one's hard, aching cock is licked by a gorgeous, nine-year-old sissyboy is not a condition one can sustain for long. Brandon "rewarded" Carter in an even more copious fashion that second time around. Carter was pleased. Brandon was delighted, except for worrying about that whole "juvie hall" thing. But Carter promised to tell no one of their activities and Brandon believed him. Brandon almost defenestrated caution. Maybe a nice fucking would top off things the way such a glorious day should be topped off. But the three remaining drops of blood in his brain allowed him to reason that the next day would be a better time for both of them to lose their anal virginity. The lovers showered together (with lots of tongue-filled kisses), changed the sheets, washed the sheets, and were content with kisses and fondles for the rest of the day. Except at 2:17 p.m. when Carter got onto his knees and begged Brandon to let him suck the man-boy's cock again. And when, half an hour later, Brandon sat in a chair as Carter dropped his pants, turned around and let Brandon lick out his bumhole for a lovely 54 minutes. His bumhole! Licked! Out! The sheer dirtiness of it all made Carter dry cum three times. Mrs. Analust arrived home at 5:45 and was delighted to see everything tidy and Carter so well behaved. Mr. Analust arrived home five minutes later, appraised his son and the babysitter and thought, they're fucking. Or have done everything but and are about to fuck soon. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Daddy Analust knew his son was a sissyboy long before Carter did. He had seen the way men looked at his beautiful boy and how Carter looked back. Carter would be ten years old in a couple of months, so the sex was due at any day. Live and let live, Daddy always said. As Carter's father, however, he had to ensure Carter's safety – physical and emotional. And he had to ensure that he got his fair share of that beautiful ass. Daddy would give the young lovers a chance to get their bearings. Then he would expand his role beyond mere parenthood. The next day, a newly-educated-via-Internet Brandon appeared for his babysitting job with a smile, a concealed bottle of Spermbutt Anal Lubricant and carnal intentions. Lubricate, dilate, penetrate, and fornicate was the older boys new life motto. Five minutes after Mom and Daddy left for work, Carter and Brandon were in bed. Naked. Kissing. And rubbing stiff, hungry cocks against each other. That alone was enough to declare it the "nice day" everyone implores one to have. But wait. There was more. Brandon waited until things were ho and steamy before making an historic proposition to Carter. "This is great, Baby," the older boy said. "I want to suck your sweet prick, lick your nipples and your baby balls and tongue your asshole all day. But there's something else that is even better. Something big boys do." Intrigued, Carter asked, "What is it, Brandon?" "It's called fucking, Honey. I get your asshole nice and wet and open. Then I put my prick inside you and rub the special place you have with my stiffie. Doesn't that sound great?" It sounded odd to Carter. Brandon's cock seemed awfully big to fit into Carter's poopie hole. But if all the big kids did it, Carter didn't want to be a baby. "OK, I guess. Just once, maybe. But don't hurt me." Brandon was astonished at how easily Carter gave it up. Brandon was about to become the first person to fuck one of the great sissyboy asses of the 21st Century. After he loosened and lubed. Carter liked how Brandon ate out his pooper for a good half hour. He really liked how Brandon used that slick stuff to help him get three fingers into Carter's hole, stretch it and assault his prostate. He was amused by the reverent attitude Brandon took while putting that slick stuff onto his own cock. Brandon asked Carter to get onto his knees, then lean forward and put his head on two pillows. Exposing his lubricated and dilated ass to the lustful indecency of Brandon's rampant prick. Brandon knelt behind Carter, said a silent prayer of thanksgiving and slid his cockhead into Carter's boyhole. Brandon was expecting a scream. Or at least a whimper. All he got was a satisfied "Mmmmmm." That was a bit insulting. Brandon wasn't super big down there, but hey, Carter wasn't even ten yet. Maybe Brandon did such good preparation... The truth was that Carter's lack of pain from his first fuck was 60% from Brandon's preparation and 40% Carter's natural ability to accept big cocks in his bum. A genetic trait that would serve him well. Anyway, Brandon SHOVED the rest of his cock in and got a sharp squeal, followed by a deep intake of breath. And a comment: "So good. Don't stop." Good enough. Brandon fucked a delighted, active Carter for several minutes in that position, then withdrew and repositioned him missionarily. On his back. A helpless, powerless pansyboy on his back. Dominated by his MAN! Who was FUCKING him hard! As well as kissing him and skinning his little prick. Carter was in heaven. He loved fucking! Brandon was in heaven. He loved fucking Carter. Carter drygasmed moments before Brandon wetgasmed. Carter used his versatile ass muscles to keep Brandon from withdrawing until he had restiffened and fucked Carter again. As it turned out, Carter had very talented ass muscles. A bright future as a sissyboy was becoming a nova of potential. Being young and incredibly randy, the new lovers managed seven fucks that fine day. As well as a mutual sucking of their well-used pricks. That night, Daddy was sure of it. Carter had been fucked. Multi-fucked. Good for Carter. Good for Daddy, because he could now make his move. The next day for Carter and Brandon was a delightful repeat of Opening Day. At 2:30 in the afternoon, the boys had just finished their seventh fuck and were resting a moment before going about the pleasure of breaking their own record. Lying on their backs, side by side on the narrow bed. Looking a proper mess. Unlike in porn, where the well-fucked woman's makeup is always perfect, her hair coiffed just so, Carter and Brandon looked like a couple recharging for their eighth fuck. Carter had cum in his hair, on his face and chest, and had globs of it oozing from his half-open bumhole. Brandon was sweaty and breathing heavily. His penis was red and sore-looking. A good sore. But sore. And he looked tired. But his cock was almost hard and he was just about to kiss Carter and request a Round Eight when... "Hi, boys. Looks like you're having a good day." OMG!!!! It was Carter's Daddy!!!!!! Home early from work!!!!!! And he had seen it all!!!!! No way to explain away the loss of clothing and several million sperm. Was Brandon's life in danger? Was Carter's? "Hi, Daddy," Carter said. "You're home from work early. Would it be OK if Brandon and I played for another hour or so before he goes home?" Huh? Brandon was amazed. How was Carter being casual about them being caught with their pants down and their cocks up? Daddy smiled at his boy and said. "I think it's time for Brandon to go home, don't you? Here's your pay for the week, Brandon. Thanks for taking such good care of Carter. See you Monday." A stunned Brandon took the pay envelope, kissed Carter goodbye (on the lips, of course), grabbed his clothes and bolted. Leaving Carter and Daddy alone. Alone. "Thanks for being OK with Brandon about this, Daddy," Carter said. "It was as much my fault as it was his. We're in love, Daddy." Daddy winced. "We're in love." It was the old, "I know I shouldn't have left our six kids and the farm at harvest time for that travelling salesman, but we're in love" defense. But Daddy merely said, "You're welcome, Honey. I'm a little surprised that you're so calm about me catching you and Brandon like this." Carter smiled through the dried cum on his pretty face. "I knew we would get caught sooner or later. I'm just glad it was you who caught us. I was sure you would be OK, because I know that you wish it was you and me doing the things Brandon and I are doing. I do too, Daddy. I love you too." [Big pause] [Long silence] Then – Daddy stood up. Removed all his clothing. Paused to drink in Carter's reaction to his truly man-sized cock. Then covered Carter's naked body with his own. Kissing. Rubbing cocks. Daddy felt Carter's hand grab the bigger cock and relocate it to the entrance to bliss. "Push, Daddy," Carter said huskily. Daddy pushed. Carter's pooper had been well-lubricated and dilated by a day of fucking, but Carter felt a slight sting engendered by Daddy's bigger torpedo. But it was all carnal pleasure after that. It flashed through Daddy's brain that he may be doing something "wrong" by fucking his nine-year-old son in the boy's delicious anus. Or maybe he should have shown Brandon some indignation for fucking Carter, instead of paying Brandon and inviting Brandon back for babysitting the next week. But there wasn't enough blood in his brain to sustain such complicated thoughts. All that blood was in his penis. So he just fucked Carter. And Carter fucked right back. Fucking with Brandon was awesome! But feeling Daddy's manmeat inside him, as Daddy's hairy chest rubbed Carter's boyish nipples was double awesome!! Daddy's cock was rubbing Carter's prostate better than it had ever been rubbed. And Daddy's wet tongue was practically down Carter's throat. Carter threw his legs around Daddy and screamed out what sounded like, "I love you, Daddy!!" And then twitched and convulsed and HEAVED through his orgasm. Something was different about that orgasm. Carter was sure of it. And, after Daddy grunted his way manfully through the best orgasm of his life thus far and rolled off of Carter, Daddy examined the evidence. Carter had spunked. Just a few drops. But it was spunk! During his first fuck with his very own Daddy. Such a beautiful, touching, Hollywood-worthy moment. Did Hallmark have a card for that occasion? "Congratulations on your first spunking with Daddy" If so, it would be a big seller. Anyway, Carter was delighted. So happy that he sucked and licked Daddy's poop-and-cum-soaked cock back to life, then got onto all fours and gave Daddy a nice doggy-style fuck. Carter spunked again! Whew! That made nine buttfucks for Carter that day and his ass was pretty sore. So Carter proposed a nice shower and a change of sheets before Mom got home. Daddy's brain was almost back to working condition, so he agreed. They changed the sheets, then put the cum-drenched set in the wash. Then they showered. Together. Which always seems to lead to a nice fucking. Carter bent at the waist for that one. And Daddy really unloaded on the poor, double-digit-fucked boy. Double whew!! When she got home to a nice man-and-cheese dinner, Mom suspected nothing. Other than Carter had started masturbating by the smell of his room. Which was no big deal. Later, in bed with Daddy, Mom was told everything. Which was no big deal either. She grew up with five brothers and her Daddy fucked three of them on a pretty regular basis. With her brothers' full and eager consent. Everyone in Mom's family seemed really happy with the arrangement. So Mom was too. The next day, Daddy took Carter to Sissy Boy World to get the things he would need to be a proper cock-sucking, ass-fucked sissyboy. Driving there. Daddy said, "Making love to you is the most fun I've ever had, Honey. But we have to consider your health. I'll never fuck you more than once a day during the week. Twice on weekend days. Three on special days and holidays. It's for the best." Carter already knew that when a man says something preposterous like that, one should just agree. So he did. Daddy nodded. It was good to know that his word was law. "I'm taking you to Sissy Boy World because you need sissy things. Panties. Lots of panties. Nightwear. Sissyboy short shorts. All the cockteasing and cockpleasing things that a proper sissyboy wears. Carter winced at that. Was Daddy saying that Carter would be wearing things that told the world that he was a cock-loving, take-it-hard-and-hot-up-his-tiny-bum sissyboy? He flushed at that. And asked, "Are you saying that I'll be wearing sissy panties all the time? Even to school? Even on gym days when I'll have to drop my pants in the locker room and show all the other boys what a little cock-hungry pansy I am?" "Especially on gym days, Honey. You're so beautiful and love fucking so much. It would be criminal to hide your fuck potential from the world. With me only fucking you once a day, you'll need to find other nice friends, won't you?" Carter nodded. It was all so new and terribly exciting. The poor boy was very stiff and very drippy thinking about his new life as sissy princess of the universe. His baby balls were aching. His little cock was painfully erect. "Daddy, I don't feel so good. I think I need... I know I need..." "Just hold on a minute or two while I find a parking space. There. Let's go into the store." Carter frowned. How would "going into the store" help his condition? Moments later, they were in the store's lobby. The Sissy Boy World store's greeter, a very handsome, 30-something man said, "Oh dear! This poor boy needs to be fucked, doesn't he? And quickly. Will you be taking care of that sir, or should I call on a staff member?" "I'll do it. I shouldn't have let him get like this. I should have fucked him when he woke up then again right before we left. I'm a terrible father." "It's all right, sir," he greeter said. "You're obviously new at dealing with a sissyboy's needs. Lesson learned. Here. Take this sweet little beauty into Relief Room Three. Right here. Take all the time you need to fuck him properly and completely." Relief Room Three looked like an upscale hotel room, with an enormous bed and a humongous bathroom. Daddy stripped Carter to a delicious nude, then had him stand while he sat on the bed, and applied sissy CPR. Daddy sucked Carter off while fingering his prostate. Just to bring him back within normal parameters quickly. Poor Carter responded well. Shuddering through a sweet orgasm that produced six creamy drops of young cum. As Carter's chest heaved through the after throes, Daddy stripped, easily found some Spermbutt Anal Lubricant [bottles of it seemed to be everywhere], and began to manually lubricate and dilate Carter's bum as they tongue-kissed. Things got steamy quickly and Daddy was into Carter from behind. Plowing Carter's cornfield as the boy squealed, moaned and gasped for air. Daddy tried to hold back for a 30-minute fuck-a-thon, but Carter was just too beautiful and docile and loving and tight and fuckworthy. The man unloaded into his son's bum in seven minutes and twelve seconds. Daddy valiantly kept shoving his deflating cock up the Love Canal until Carter reached his own crisis. Relief! But just to make sure Carter wouldn't get "sick" again, his loving Daddy kissed him all over, with particular attention to his boyish nipples and wrinkled ball sack. Which restiffened them both for a Carter-on-his-back-with-his-legs-in-the-air fuck, with its attendant kissing. Sated for the moment, father and son dressed to face the world. Or at least Sissy Boy World. Where the greeter regreeted them, then led them around the store. Helping them select $2,165.43 worth of sissy gear. Including three cases of Spermbutt Anal Lubricant; two dozen panties of all colors and varieties; a dozen transparent, sissyboy "nightshirts;" a dozen pairs of sheer, stay-up stockings in black, tan and nude; two pairs of patent-leather, single-strap, Mary Jane shoes [one black, one pink]; seven pairs of turned-over, white, ankle socks with ruffled lace and satin bows; and two dozen skimpy, "Come fuck me now" outfits. When Carter tried on the turned-over, white, ankle socks with ruffled lace and satin bows and the black, patent-leather, single-strap, Mary Jane shoes; the young angel and his Daddy were so excited that they had to use Relief Room Six for another hour. With Carter wearing just those sissy shoes and socks. A good thing that relief rooms were complimentary for all purchases over $1,000. Well-fucked and well-supplied, Carter was ready to face life as a sissyboy. Three – Carter at almost twelve Two years had passed since Carter's introduction to sex. And if it were possible you to be on top of the world, you would be sitting next to Carter Analust. He was the undisputed fuck dream of every sentient man within 50 miles of Carter's home. For 42 men and 18 boys, Carter had been more than a dream. They had fucked him. And secured the greatest memory of their lives. Carter wasn't a "boy slut," exactly. He was friendly. And sexually generous. Men were equally generous with Carter. Showering him with expensive gifts and pelting him with marriage proposals. Men wanted to POSSESS Carter, of course. But Carter wasn't ready to be possessed. Carter felt a little funny taking gifts from men who fucked him. Or wanted to fuck him. That seemed a little too much like the P-word. But Carter still took the gifts. A sissyboy has to think about his future. And since Carter was turning 12 in a couple of months, he knew that if he was going to marry, thus make REAL money for his future, age was catching up with him. But he loved the single sissyboy life. He loved the variety. The freedom. The bone-jarring sex. But most of all, he loved being adored almost to the point of worship by the men he "dated." Things got a little messy sometimes when a man thought he OWNED Carter and couldn't understand why he was only getting to fuck him two or three times a month. But Carter had found a way to deal with that: Colleagues! Carter was the first boy at Oscar Wilde Elementary School to "come out" as not only gay, but generously gay. "Open for business" for nice men and boys willing to adore Carter in return for ball-blasting sex. As a 5th-grader (elementary schools in the USA go from kindergarten to 5th grade) ten-year-old Carter set an example that younger, closeted sissyboys were eager to follow. As were Carter's classmates. First two 4th-graders came to school in severely cut-off cut-offs that revealed wisps of their panties. Then three more, as well as two eight-year-old 3rd-graders. Female teachers sent these young "sociopaths" to the vice principal, Mr. Smegma, for discipline. Mr. Smegma, being in possession of all his good sense as well as two palpitating testicles, fucked the young angels instead. Thus began the town-wide cultural revolution that Carter initiated. Carter's good influence spread to Rock Hudson Junior High School (6th through 8th grade, ages 11 to 13 or 14) and soon the local supply of sissyboy pussy found a sort of equilibrium with demand. Carter's sissyboy pussy, of course, still held the greatest demand. But he only had one of them. Carter's new best friend became classmate and new-boy-in-town Jason, who was the first after Carter to come out. Jason was a lovely sissyboy Carter's age, who loved cock and fucking every bit as much as Carter did. When they weren't with their "dates," Carter and Jason were with each other, both in school and out. The lads would giggle and "dish" about the men and boys who adored their bodies. And would often kiss naked and suck each other's cocks, of course. Carter and Jason would often swap dates and even [blush] Daddies. Carter got just a tiny bit jealous the first time he saw how happy his Daddy was after an all-nighter with Jason, but he got over it. For the record, Jason's Daddy was totally in love with Carter from their first kiss. So there, Jason! During the summer before Carter and Jason would be entering the 7th Grade, when they were both almost 12, Jason began to talk about Mr. Harddrive, a man who seemed to be serious about marrying Jason. "He's VERY handsome and hunky, Carter. And the trust fund he's setting up for me is huge! Plus, we'll only be married five days a week. The other two would be mine." Carter looked at Jason as if he were a strange visitor from another planet. "Didn't we talk about this, Jason? We're having so much fun now. The best fun. Didn't you tell me you were half in love with Brandon, my first boyfriend, who has since fucked every sissyboy in six counties?" "That's the beauty of it, Carter. I can still get fucked by Brandon and my Daddy and your Daddy and lots of others. Just two days a week instead of seven. The other five days, I'll be having hot sweaty sex with my husband. At least five times a day by the marriage contract. For three years. Plus, any sex I have in school, when he's not around. We're not getting any younger, Carter. We could just go what we're doing until we're 16 or 17 and no one sees us as desirable sissyboys anymore. And we'll be broke." Carter's emotional response was to see if he could have Jason burned as a heretic. But he knew that his pantied friend was telling the hard truth. So he wished Jason well, then attended the boy's wedding to Mr. Harddrive four weeks later. Three weeks after that, an exquisitely gowned and strikingly beautiful Carter married Mr. Firmwood, a 42-year-old multi-multi-millionaire with a big cock and a bigger love for Carter. Four – Carter at 15 Mr. Firmwood's love for Carter was still intense when their marriage ended. But it didn't stop the permanently randy 45-year-old from moving on to a younger sissyboy. Besides the astounding monetary arrangements Mr. Firmwood left for Carter's lifelong well-being, the ex-husband offered the services of Mr. Wiseman, a "transition counselor." Carter didn't need no stinking counselor. He was perfectly happy living with his parents, living the "normal" life of the high-school sophomore. Or so he told himself. There was a big hole in his heart. Not for Mr. Firmwood. For the sissyboy royalty Carter had once been. Carter and Jason, who was also newly single, got together frequently. Not so much to suck each other thingees (though they both enjoyed that very much). They mostly loved complaining about how shitty life was. To the rest of us, Carter and Jason are probably not sympathetic characters. All that cock they got! All that adoration and admiration. And they were still stunningly sexy at age 15. Though way past there sissyboy prime. So what were their options? Status quo, which still involved many first-caliber men lining up to fuck them. But not ALL of the first-caliber men. Heterosexuality. (Ha!) Celibacy (Kill me now!) Transition counseling. Just to see what was out there. Carter didn't like any of the options. But maybe there were more. Carter's text to Mr. Firmwood was all it took for the ex- to add Jason to the free counseling list. So off they went to see Mr. Wiseman the next day. It was difficult for Mr. Wiseman to counsel Carter and Jason because they were frighteningly sexy. In a mature sissyboy way. It was difficult for Carter and Jason to listen to Mr. Wiseman because he was frighteningly sexy. So, by mutual agreement, they all "cooled themselves off" by fucking and sucking for two hours and 17 minutes. Right there in Mr. Wiseman's office. Breathing normally, Mr. Wiseman asked all the right questions and offered a possible solution. "You can become pantyboys." Carter and Jason looked at each other. "What's a pantyboy?" Carter asked. "A pantyboy is a boy or man who dresses like a woman. I know that in the later stages of your marriages, you boys wore lingerie and used some minimal makeup to please your husbands. And it worked, didn't it?" Carter and Jason were VERY skeptical. But they nodded affirmatively. "A pantyboy's charm and sexiness can extend into his 50s or 60s. He represents all the femininity a hetero man wants from a woman but never gets. To a man, a sweet, beautiful, permanently randy, ultra-feminine pantyboy is an object of lifelong adoration." Carter was ticking off boxes in his head: not nearly washed up at 15, hetero men, adoration, lots of sex, sexy clothing. "Tell me more," Jason said. "If you boys want to do that, I'll arrange for classes in femininity, makeup and hairstyling. I'll get you with someone who will help you pick out a full starter wardrobe. All paid for by Mr. Firmwood for the next 35 years. You'll then start living and dating as pantyboys. If you like that, we'll get you hormone treatments so you have no beard and big titties. You'll keep your cocks and balls, of course, but you'll need to lose the Adam's apples. Sound good?" Carter and Jason looked at each other. "Sounds good to me," Jason said. "Me too," Carter agreed. Then the boys spent the next three hours thanking Mr. Wiseman for his wise counsel. Five – Eight months later High-school sophomore and pantyboy Carter Firmwood swallowed another load of his friend Richie's cum, listening with pleasure to Richie's moans of ecstasy. When Richie's spasms ended, Carter lovingly kissed the tip of Richie's cock. Then Carter got off of his pretty, stockinged knees and stood tall in his four-inch-stiletto pumps. "You have to go now, Richie. You know how much Jason and I love you for giving us a ride to and from school every day. And we both thank you – me on Wednesday afternoon and Jason on Monday afternoon. But you know I have my weekly overnight date with Mr. Stiffer on Wednesday and I have to clean up. Especially those two nice loads of man juice that you shot into my bum. Now run along and we'll see you tomorrow morning." Richie reluctantly agreed. He kissed Carter goodbye, gave the pantyboy one last ass feelup, remembered that he had the best driving gig on Earth and shouldn't mess with it, and left. Phew! The downside of being one of the most luscious pieces of ass in the world is that it's difficult to get men to leave when they should. Men and boys followed Carter wherever he went. Hoping to at least breathe some of Carter's air. Carter and his pantyboy best friend, Jason, were the most popular students in school. And the most popular people in their county and five surrounding counties. Carter and Jason were hot!!!! And getting hotter every day, with no peak in sight until their late 30s, at least. The former sissyboys had made their transition better than even Mr. Wiseman's highest hopes. They endured the Adam's apple surgery well, even though they couldn't fuck for a week during their recovery. Thank goodness there was a horde of volunteers eager to ease their pain through oral procedures. The hormones worked incredibly well. Jason had almost busted out of his A-cup bra and Carter was already a B. Almost all of which was puffy nipple. Of critical import was putting together a hormone mix that would bring out the boy's femininity while maintaining their full virility. The important parts of virility. Erections. Orgasms. Lots of sperm and semen. Check, check and double check. Except for their cocks and balls, Carter's and Jason's bodies were that of beautifully developing teenage girls. Without the drama. The backbiting. The sexual stinginess. No nagging. No manipulation. No emasculation. No, we can't fuck today, I'm having my period. No GRRRRR! Don't you dare say I'm being bitchy because of my menstrual cycle. LOTS of incredible, life-altering sex. Carter and Jason were gorgeous, feminine creatures with cocks, who wore fuck-me clothing, and had a sex drive at least equal to every man they met. And at age 15, men thought of them as young. Mr. Stiffer, one of Carter's nicest and most generous friends, had set Carter and Jason up in a lovely two-bedroom condo in the best part of town. So they wouldn't have to suffer the indignity of living with their parents after their marriages. And the inherent lack of privacy in that arrangement. All Mr. Stiffer asked in return was Carter's "full attention" from 6 p.m. Wednesday to 7 a.m. Thursday each week. Carter was especially pleased with the Mr. Stiffer deal because 1) Mr. Stiffer was an outstanding hunk who loved pantyboys and knew how to take them on guided tours of the universe and 2) Mr. Stiffer was married, which meant he was only available one night a week. Leaving Carter six other free nights. Unlike Carter's ex-husband who thought he OWNED Carter five nights a week. Sometimes Carter was even free seven nights a week, since Jason felt obligated to show his appreciation to Mr. Stiffer at least one Wednesday each month. A more than fair deal for all. It was 4:15 p.m. Carter hurriedly stripped off his stockings and bra, changed the sheets and sprayed air freshener. Then he stepped into the shower (after a mandatory three-minute pause to admire his beautiful, more-feminine-by-the-day body ). Carter was particularly delighted with his decision to let his hair grow out. It was long and straight and colored in rich, blonde glory. Blonde hair was worth the 15-point drop in IQ, Carter thought. Mr. Stiffer doesn't deserve me, Carter thought. But no man does. I'm too beautiful. Carter broke his narcissistic spell and entered the shower. He washed himself all over, with particular attention to his sperm-drooling "pussy," which was what he was calling his bumhole since becoming a full pantyboy. Carter washed his hair too, even though he knew that a good deal of the cum that Mr. Stiffer would shoot onto Carter's face that evening would end up in Carter's hair. A good reason to have an easy, do-it-yourself, hair style. Carter patted himself dry with big fluffy towels, then powdered and perfumed himself in all the right spots. He wanted Mr. Stiffer to smell his "Poison" perfume when he was licking the underside of the pantyboy's "pink purse." Deliciously naked, Carter sat at his industrial-strength vanity and began to brush and dry his hair. Which gave Carter more self-admiration time in the vanity's three-way mirror. His evaluation: a stunningly beautiful face. Even without the makeup that he had learned to apply so skillfully and artfully over the past eight months. Carter would have been fine with skipping the make-up, but the men loved it. And Carter wanted to please his men. He giggled when he thought of how Mr. Stiffer had requested that Carter wear extra mascara on their dates, since he loved to see it run when Carter was sobbing his way through a ballbuster orgasm. Or when Mr. Stiffer's jism hit Carter's eyes and made the mascara flow. Anything for his men was Carter's motto. And it had served him and his men well. Just as Carter was about to begin his make-up ritual (extra-slutty for Mr. Stiffer), Jason appeared. Carter's smile lit up the room. He was always happy to see his best friend, roommate and lover. Jason, who was already dressed and made up leaned over to give Carter a don't-mess-my-face-I-worked-too-hard-on-it air kiss. Carter wolf-whistled. Jason was that hot. The pantyboy was wearing a black, micro-mini dress that barely covered the tops of his black, seamed, reinforced-heel-and-toe, fully-fashioned stockings. His skyscraper stilettos pushed his delicious ass back and his developing boobs forward. Extra-extra-slutty make-up made the beautiful brunette even more stunning. "Wow, Honey," Carter said. "Remind me again who's fucking you tonight. You're such a complete slut that I lose track." Jason huffed and faked a punch at Carter's pretty nose. "I told you the story. It's my 5th-grade teacher from when we lived in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Before my Daddy got smart and moved us here where we can wear pretty clothes outside all year long. His name is Mr. Piston and he was my first...my first lover." Carter was ashamed of himself for forgetting. A boy's first fuck is a big deal. Carter made a point of fucking Brandon at least once a month. The 22-year-old was grateful and always hungry for more Carter. "I'm so sorry I forgot, Sweetie," Carter said. "Mr. Piston is a lucky man. I'll bet he didn't find any Yooper boys half as sexy as you, though. Watch him move next door to us after tonight." Jason giggled. Then the two sissy princesses chatted amiably about men and their big penises while the still naked Carter finished his stunning makeup. Carter took one last look and wondered for the thousandth time if blonde hair was compatible with brown eyes and dark eyebrows. Then, for the thousandth time he dismissed it. In his estimation, Carter couldn't possibly be more beautiful. Even with blue eyes and blond, shaped eyebrows. Noting the time, Carter began to dress. The doorbell rang. Carter knew it wasn't Mr. Stiffer. He was always precisely punctual and it was only 5:30. Jason jumped up. "Oh my! It's him. How do I look? Will he think I'm too old? Will he still want to fuck me?" Carter giggled. "Any man who doesn't want to fuck you is deeply delusional or has his priorities messed up. Is he taking you out to dinner, then bringing you home?" "That's the plan." "Then go get him before he goes back to his igloo." Jason hugged Carter, which gave them both outrageous stiffies. Then Jason hustled off to his "Golden Oldie." Jason opened the door and there he was. Five years older. Maybe a half an inch more on a slim waist. A few grey hairs. But still gorgeous. Jason waited for Mr. Piston to step forward and hug him. Or at least say something. But the poor man was in Catatonia. Which is, I believe, a new EU country. Mr. Piston was dumbfounded! Was this the beautiful ten-year-old with the puppy eyes who wanted to be fucked more than life itself? Jason was an astounding beauty! A bud flowering well before its time. Women, Mr. Piston believed, peak in beauty around age 30. But Jason wasn't a woman. He was half of 30. And a boy. Mr. Piston could only say, "Jason, I missed you so much." Jason stepped forward and folded himself into Mr. Piston's arms. Giving himself to his man the way only a sissyboy or a pantyboy could. The promised dinner was forgotten. Jason and Mr. Piston would feast on each other. Luckily, the bedrooms in the condo were at opposite ends. So the screams of erotic agony were muffled somewhat if both pantyboys were both "entertaining" at home. Jason would be uttering lots of those screams that lovely evening. Holding Mr. Piston's hand, Jason led the way to his girlie bedroom. With a man-sized bed. "Unzip me, please, Mr. Piston," Jason asked sweetly. Mr. Piston hustled to comply. He saw Jason's bra strap and wondered if Jason had developed actual titties. And wondered how such a wonderful wonder could wondrously occur. But no time for details. Jason slid down his little black dress and let it flutter to the floor. Stepping out of the dress, he also divested himself of his black mini-slip. And stood before his man, the Defiler of his Virginity, in all black – panties, stockings, garters, heels and bra. Mr. Piston gulped. He had fucked many of his 5th-graders over his 22 year career. But he forgave himself each time for five reasons: One - If he didn't, someone else would. And soon. Two - The job paid poorly, so he was due a perk or two. Or a pork. Three - The little cock hounds wanted it! Four - As an educator, was he not charged with educating? Five - It felt really good. Rationalization makes the world go round, doesn't it? Despite all that experience, Mr. Piston had never had a fuck partner as thrilling as Jason. The boy wanted it all! And gave it all back. When he recontacted Jason on social media, Mr. Stiffer wasn't sure about this whole pantyboy thing. Mr. Piston fucked boys. Young boys. Pretty boys. He had standards. The notion of an over-the-hill, 15-year-old sissyboy reinventing himself as a pantyboy was way outside of his comfort zone. But it was Jason. Inviting him for a night of unrestricted carnality. Older Jason. Femmed-up Jason. But still Jason. Mr. Piston leapt at the opportunity. And there he was. Mid-leap. Kissing Jason's glossed lips. Tonguing Jason's tongue. Oh! Jason was making those sounds that Mr. Piston liked hearing from his "conquests." Pleasure sounds. Did Jason have real titties? Did he still have his cock? Ooops. Mr. Piston felt Jason's stiffie rubbing against him. That answered that. The man reached behind Jason and, with a skill he hadn't employed since high school, unhooked Jason's bra. Oh my. He felt something that seemed to be breasts rubbing against his chest. Petite. But definitely breasts. Mr. Piston decided. It was time for him to get naked. Which he accomplished in county and state record time. Meanwhile, Jason removed his panties. Freeing his lovely, girlish, boy's things. Stiff, drippy and pouting for attention. Which was all the stripping he planned for that evening. He was frighteningly erotic in just his stockings, garter belt and stilettos. And eager to make a real connection with his first lover. So he took the direct route. On his knees. Sucking the first cock he had ever sucked. Yum! Mr. Piston remembered that mouth. He had a didactic memory when it came to his sexual experiences. Jason's mouth remembered Mr. Piston's cock. It was like going home to the Upper Peninsula again. Only warmer. Hotter. Mr. Piston was in paradise. He told himself that he deserved this for all of the off-duty time and effort he had put into ensuring that young 5th-grade boys were fully prepared to enter 6th-Grade in a proper frame of mind. He was a true humanitarian, after all. And finally, he was being fully rewarded by one of the lads he had set on the right path. Jason had clearly learned how to thrill a man with a cocksucking since their last encounter. Five years earlier, young Jason wouldn't have inserted a busy finger into his teacher's bum. It was delicious! And as exciting as Jason's tonguework was on his cock and the delightful, concurrent prostate massage, the thought that the universe had adjusted to give Mr. Piston justice was even more thrilling to the man. Mr. Piston's balls jettisoned their cargo. Unlike five years earlier when Jason had gagged and struggled to swallow half of Mr. Piston's creamy load, Jason easily consumed every drop. Practice makes perfect, doesn't it? Jason was delighted that Mr. Piston had been so excited that he gave Jason the pantyboy's big reward so thoroughly and quickly. And even more delighted that Mr. Piston knew what to do with his pantyboy during the mandatory ball-recharging interim between fucks. Kissing. Cockstroking. Titty licking. Cock licking. And then, as the man felt life returning to his fuck weapon, ass eating. Mr. Piston was way better at each of those life-essential skills than Jason remembered. But let's not forget that Mr. Piston had five years to improve his game. Not just Jason. The fuck that followed was not the technically best Jason had ever experienced. Mr. Piston's cock wasn't so big and thick that Jason feared for his life (he had had four lovers like that). He didn't have the endurance for an hour-plus ass-pounding (three lovers had done that). Yet, Jason spunked three times in the 21 minutes and 13 seconds that Mr. Piston rubbed Jason's prostate with his medium-sized cock. Jason and Mr. Piston shared a history. The mind is the most important sex organ and emotion always trumps facts and measurements in good fucking. Meanwhile, at the other end of the condo. Mr. Stiffer was clutching his heart at the sight of Carter's raw beauty. Which was exactly what Carter expected from his dates. And why Carter insisted on a defibrillator in the condo. Carter was wearing a diaphanous, silky, skimpy, black bolero jacket that barely covered Carter's shoulders and completely exposed his puffy, perky nipples and B-cup titties. Puffy half-sleeves and a puffy collar. Black, seamed, reinforced-heel-and-toe, fully-fashioned stockings, of course; and a ruffled black garter belt with tiny pink ribbons. The pantyboy added large gold hoops and a delicate pearl necklace. No panties. He was adorable. Turning this way and that. Balancing on his five-inch stiletto sandals as he shared his narcissistic vision of perfection with Mr. Stiffer. Recovered slightly from his heart-clutching shock, Mr. Stiffer proved that he was only human. A human animal. With a ferocious response to a ferocious provocation. Mr. Stiffer "assaulted" Carter. Without even a howdy-do, Mr. Stiffer flung Carter into the bed and glued his mouth to Carter's right nipple. Engendering a squeal of half-terror, half-lust from Carter. Mr. Stiffer JAMMED two fingers up Carter's "pussy," with no lubrication. A real scream from Carter that time. Carter wondered if he had shown a man more sex-dripping, carnality-provoking beauty than a man was capable of assimilating. He made a mental note to tone it down a skosh the next time. Assuming he survived the night. After Carter's second scream, the boy realized that he was, in fact enjoying the semi-rough treatment from his lover/financial-benefactor. Carter after all had triggered the feral response, which was fuel to his high-octane ego. And the rougher-without-cruelty-or-craziness stuff was exciting. So much so that, three minutes from the moment Mr. Stiffer caught eyes with Carter's body, Carter was shooting his pantyboy cream and squealing out his love for Mr. Stiffer. The sperm that collected on Carter's belly inspired a sexy response by Mr. Stiffer. The man scooped a dollop of boy's cream up with two fingers. Carter thought Mr. Stiffer was going to eat Carter's spunk. Carter's spunk being man's true nectar. Instead, he used nature's true lubricant to lubricate Carter's pussyhole. Scoop by scoop. Using one finger. Then two. Three. And four. Carter was whimpering to be fucked at that point. Mr. Stiffer eagerly complied. Pantyboy on his back. Stockinged legs raised. Begging for his man's cock. Mr. Stiffer covered Carter's body with his own. Pushed his whole cock into its favorite spot on earth. And pistoned away. Mr. Stiffer was a BEAST!! Blindly fucking Carter just to satisfy his own filthy urges. Carter couldn't have been happier. The next morning, after Mr. Stiffer and Mr. Piston left, Carter and Jason showered together and discussed their respective evenings. "I had a great time with Mr. Piston, Honey," Jason said. "He's a really great lover and he was my first. But I've moved on. I told him I would see him when I'm up his way. Which will be never. I think he understood." "I'm sure he did. And I learned that I had better tone it down a little if I want to live until I'm sweet sixteen." Jason giggled at Carter's tale of Mr. Stiffer's ferocity. The pantyboys skipped their lesbian-like sex for that morning, having been sated by their beaus' hungry lovemaking from 5 a.m. to 7 a.m. So they just dressed for school and made themselves daytime beautiful. Richie drove them, of course. And they were late, as usual. The pantyboys were unconcerned about silly school rules. They said goodbye inside the main door and went toward their respective classrooms. Carter clacked down the halls of Anderson Cooper High School in his yellow, five-inch-stiletto-heels sandals. He loved the feel of his garter straps tugging at his tan, seamed, reinforced-heel-and-toe, fully-fashioned stockings and the breeze up the skirts of his pretty yellow-with-white-polka-dots mini-sundress. Carter loved being a beautiful pantyboy. Which was millions of times better than being an aged-out, washed-up sissyboy. Carter and Jason had chosen the best option. I welcome your comments at beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com